#rescued by the single dad

[authorwhitleycox]

NEW single dad, small town series! Grab this Little Mermaid meets Overboard romantic mystery!

  Title: Rescued by the Single Dad Series: The Single Dads of San Camanez: The Brew Brothers Book 1 Author: Whitley Cox Release Date: April 6, 2023 Title: Rescued by the Single Dad Genre: Contemporary Romance Tropes: forced proximity, small town, fish out of water, single dad, military, little mermaid rendition, whodunnit, suspense, brotherhood     What happens when the brewery prince falls for…

[moregraceful]

I name all of my snake plants after Baltimore Orioles players because...I don't know why I do that.....anyway Adley (she/her pronouns according to my parents) and Adam Jones are making the trip with me but Chris Davis is TOO BIG FOR THE CAR and I'm so sad now. That was my emotional support snake plant through my FMLA leave. He has seen the worst of me (mental illness, forgot to water him for a month) and survived. Now he's like four feet tall and I have to leave him behind because he is so big that he takes up more than a third of my luggage space in the car 🥲 I took such good care of him that now he has to live independent of me. Goodbye Chris Davis I will think of you fondly as I encourage Adley to grow big and strong.

[aiden-stardancer]

Yk what? Props to transformers for repeated positive representations of single dads. Of all the series I've watched, only one didn't have a single dad character, and it had a single mom.

Sparkplug Witwicky, Professor Isaac Sumdack, Chief Charlie Burns, Denny Clay (Yes, I like rid 2015, bite me!)

All single dads who are honestly doing pretty damn well, their kids are growing up to be good people with good relationships with their dads. Good on them.

[angelsdean]

plagued with too many fic ideas i'll never write (bc it takes me like 2.5 yrs to write a long fic RIP)

[wolves-in-the-world]

@darkfinch just described brad pitt's character in the lost city as having "big supernatural trickster god energy" and I haven't recovered

[egregiousderp]

i have a question that ive been thinking about for a while

Whats ur favorite pokemon?👀

I have several plushes so all of them get honorary talks. (So I have Squire the Cubone, Soup the Sobble, and Heelies the Helioptile. With Azula the Torchic, Whippet the Bulbasaur, and Red the charmander in storage.)

If you were fighting me as a gym leader though I’d be one of those asshole gym leaders who makes you do a double battle with Pants the Slowking and Wonderboy the Rhydon so I can check out your Pokémon teamwork dynamics. (I LOVE Rhydon and Slowking. But that’s because these are the two I raised together in my Go team.)

I used to have a whole six slot team planned out for if you wanted to get a badge off me, so you’d have to use all your own six team slots, and my Pokémon tend to be tricky things that cover one another’s gaps and weaknesses. (I know my second tier involved Nanii, my Sceptile. Who’s named for @naniiebim —the person who created my icons here and on discord.)

Let’s see…

I LOVE Wobbuffet and Makuhita.

My favorite legendary hands down is Raikou because Raikou is freaking chill as shit. (Oh, you’re an ex team rocket member who’s an electric trainer? I choose you to wield my power. And if it changes you for the better then I’m going to pretend not to notice. Oh, there’s a salon maiden who’s also a trainer? Free hair care and nails done? Yeah I’m good with this. SO. CHILL.) but also because it’s the first legendary I ever caught in Go. (Not for lack of trying.)

And I caught mine RIGHT after hurricane Irma.

(My Raikou is still named Irma. And I have a Raikou pin I sometimes wear at work with a little Wizard!Kakashi next to it.)

I bond with my pixels in a normal way. I am very normal. 😐

I haven’t done anything for the later generations because I don’t have a switch. It’ll trickle into Journeys or into Go and I’ll develop favorites then.

You uh. Might have to narrow down by type and watch me explode about my favorite ones in Go. ^^;;;;

[boredelle]

someone feed my delusion and tell me mr. aaron hotchner would absolutely fall for me if he was real. tell me that I’d be ✨enough✨ for him.

[op-sys-chaos]

DPxDC prompt (demon twins au)

A video from your son, the email was titled. Bruce was confused. Which of his kids would send a video to his public work email??

Bruce clicked play.

On the screen was a boy who look a lot like Damian, but most certainly wasn’t him.

“This video is for the eyes of Bruce Wayne only.

Hi Dad. I’m Danny. You likely don’t know I exist, and if you’re receiving this, I’m already dead. Well, more dead than I already was. Maybe it’s cruel of me to send you a message post-mortem, but you deserve the truth, and telling you earlier would’ve put you in danger.

This email is set to automatically send if I haven’t opened my computer for 3 days. I sometimes set it longer if I’m on vacation or expecting trouble, but I’ve mostly likely been away from home for a bit over three days if you’re receiving this.

I don’t know who killed me. Obviously. I’m recording this in advance. But it was probably either the GIW or my adoptive parents, the Fentons. I half-died at 14 and became a local ghost superhero, but they never realized I was trying to help and kept talking about tearing ghost-me apart molecule by molecule, so I bet that’s what happened. There will be nothing left of me to bury. Sorry about that!

The rest of the story is this. I was raised in an assassin cult, eventually escaping at the age of 6 when they sent me on mission and I successfully faked my death.

My biggest regret is that I escaped alone. And that’s the reason I’m reaching out to you.

You’re a civilian. If you know too much about the League of Assassins you’ll be in danger. But I need you to save my twin Damian. He’s likely still there after all these years. He never wanted to escape; he took pride in being the heir to the league. He’s probably going to be stabby; he’s an assassin after all. But it’s not his fault. Ra’s - our grandfather - brainwashed him a lot more than he brainwashed me because Damian was more susceptible to it. It’s not his fault. Please. Save him. I’m begging you. My biggest regret is leaving Damian in the league. You have a chance to save him. Please, please do it.

I wish it would’ve been safe for me to get to know you. You seem like a cool dad, from what I’ve seen of you on the news with your oldest kids. I bet you’re like that with the youngest you hide from the public too. I wish you all the best. Thank you for listening.

Your long lost almost certainly dead by now son, Danny Fenton.”

Bruce took a second to process this, then picked up his phone and dialed his youngest’s number.

“Father.”

“Damian, did you have a twin named Danny?”

“…Who told you?”

Bruce hung up and sent Damian the video. He needed a minute to process this anyway.

Damian called back a few minutes later, after watching the video.

“Father. I do not care what state he is in. We must discover exactly what happened to Danny. Even if there is only a single molecule left. We must discover the truth.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Damian.”

Dealer’s choice on whether Danny is alive. The few ideas I have for this are:

- they find him mid-vivisection and rescue him

- they find what’s left of him post-vivisection and post his core being crushed

- he’s perfectly fine and just forgot to open his computer (maybe clockwork made sure he forgot?) and now he’s panicking about the fact that his family knows about him and could be in danger. He wanted them to know he existed, not make themselves a walking target for the league by finding him and trying to bring him home!

- Jazz found the automatic email and, deciding to meddle in her brother’s life and him back to his family and maybe get a good parent for herself as a bonus, sent it early

- Technus decided to start shit and sent it while haunting Danny’s computer

- Clockwork screwed with time to make sure it got sent

Lmk what yall do with this!

[vivwritesfics]

Grandparents

Jimmy is a frisky little fuck, gets the neighbour cat pregnant. But hey, that's an excuse for the neighbour cats owner to introduce her to the pretty man with the mesmerising blue eyes who also can't wait to become a cat grand parent

1.7K

Beaver had been acting incredibly strange. When her owner acquired her (literally rescued the little cat from a bin - she had been sitting in the apartment dumpster literally chewing a bit of wood, how she got her name), she had never been one to beg for food. 

In the three years she'd owned Beaver, she'd always filled up her bowl in the morning, and then Beaver would sporadically eat from it. She'd never finish the bowl before noon and then yowl for more. 

And Beaver was definitely getting fat. 

Her owner was incredibly worried.

She scheduled an appointment with the vets and then spent maybe two hours trying to coax Beaver into her cat carrier. But the cat was a wild child. If she didn't want to do something, she wasn't going to do it. 

The cat carrier idea was abandoned. "I kinda hate you," her owner muttered with little conviction as she scooped Beaver up into a blanket and left the apartment. 

It was a little awkward, carrying a cat through Monaco like it was a baby. But Beaver was pretty happy to lay in her arms, happier than she would have been in the cat carrier. 

When, at last, they got to the vets, they were the only beings in the waiting room. Thank God, the last thing she needed was a dog freaking Beaver out, or Beaver chasing somebody's pet rodent across the room. 

She couldn't stop her knee from bouncing as they waited to be called. Her eyes couldnt stop drifting across the room, to that ugly, magnified picture of a tick. When they were called (which didn't take too long, maybe everybody else's pets were thriving that day), she carried adjusted her grip on Beaver and carried her into the waiting room. 

Pregnant. Her mangy little street cat who she loved more than anything was pregnant. "Beaver, you hoe," she mumbled as they walked out of the vets office. But then she looked at Beavers swollen belly. She had kittens in there.

Who the hell was the father? Beaver hadn't left her apartment (by choice), so who had gotten her pregnant?

She didn't mean to gasp as loudly as she did. In the hall of the apartment complex, she stopped walking to look at Beaver, her eyes wide. "It's the neighbours cat, isn't it?" She asked, but Beaver didn't confirm or deny. 

But it madde sense, didn't it? The neighbours cat had a habit of breaking into her balcony to check Beaver out. It wouldn't be a surprise if he and Beaver got busy while she was at work. 

"Well," she said to Beaver as she unlocked the apartment door, "at least you've got taste." 

Yeah, the neighbours cat was pretty beautiful. A Bengal, if she knew her cat breeds (which, she barely did). And his owner wasn't bad to look at either. 

The owner that she should probably inform of what was going on. 

She placed Beaver down on the sofa, and she climbed out of the blanket. "Okay, Bea," she said, holding out her hand (so that Beaver could push her head against it). "I'm gonna go and tell your baby daddy's dad what's going on. You stay here and... try not to let any more boy cats in." 

Beaver ignored her and made her way to the bedroom. 

Standing up straight, she brushed the loose cat hairs from her jacket. She grabbed her keys from the side and made her way out of the apartment, to the one just above her own. 

As she waited outside of her cats baby daddy's owners apartment, she could hear an incredible amount of commotion from inside. Well, I say commotion, but it was one single voice, sometimes shouting. She raised her knuckles to the door and knocked. 

The shouting stopped. Their was a pause, so long that she thought he wouldn't answer, before he pulled open the door. 

Eyes so pretty she got lost in them, and quite literally forgot what she was going to say. She'd never properly met her neighbour before, just seen him when walking through the building. Her mind blanked as she continued to stare into those pretty blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" Her neighbour prompted, and she shook herself out of whatever trance he had her under. Witchcraft, I tell you. 

"Uh, yeah. Sorry to bother you but I live in the apartment beneath you with my cat, Beaver, and I think your cat might have gotten mine pregnant."

His face dropped, and then a smile split across it. "Really?" He asked, and she nodded. "Jimmy is going to be a dad?”

"If Jimmy is the pretty little Bengal that Beaver is obsessed with, then yeah, Jimmy is gonna be a dad," she answered, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Suddenly he was reaching into his apartment and grabbing a set of keys. "Can I come meet the momma?" He asked, his voice so excited. How could she say no to that?

On the short journey form his apartment to her own, they introduced themselves. Max was Jimmy's dad, and he was a car mechanic (okay this girl clearly didn't know who Max was, and he didn't want to come out with the whole F1 driver thing. So he took a leaf out of Daniels book and called himself a car mechanic).

(She thought it was a little weird, how did a car mechanic afford a luxury apartment in Monaco? Maybe he was a car mechanic to the stars or something).

"Why is she called Beaver?" Asked Max as she pushed her key into the lock on her apartment door.

She didn't judge him for asking, it was an incredibly strange name for a cat. "Well, when I found her she was chewing this bit of wood and she looked sort of like a mangy little beaver. Turns out she was just a mangy little cat," she said and let Max in.

They might have been in the same building, but her apartment was much smaller than his own. A lot more full, too. Where Max had little else beside his set up in his living room, she had so much stuff. A fluffy colourful rug, a sofa big enough for a whole group of people, a cabinet full of DVDs.

"The little miss is probably in my bedroom," she muttered as she kicked off her shoes. "I'll go and get her."

Max kicked off his own shoes. He took a moment to look around properly, careful not to invade her privacy.

She emerged just a few moments later from a little way down the hall, a little black and white cat in her arms. "This is Beaver," she said, holding the purring kitten towards him.

"Hi Beaver," said Max as he took her from her hands. "I'm Max, Jimmy's dad. You're gonna make me the happiest cat grandpa out there."

Beaver pushed her head against Max's, still purring. "She likes you," said her owner as she sat on the couch.

"They're gonna have the prettiest babies," Max said as he sat beside her, Beaver happily sitting in his lap. As carefully as he could, Max fished his phone out of his pocket and passed it to her. "Give me your number, just in case you guys need anything."

But it wasn't just in case they needed anything. After Max went back to his apartment, they texted almost constantly. It started off being about the cats, but then it went further (I say further, but it was just them sending each other memes, giggling from behind their phone screens as they laid in their respective beds).

Max invited her out for dinner maybe a week before the kittens were born. It wasn't anything fancy; he was just craving something unhealthy and he wanted some company.

And then the kittens were born. As Beaver hid herself away in her closet, she pressed her phone to her ear. "C'mon Max, pick the fuck up" she whispered as she sat on her bed.

She was panicking, admittedly. But who could blame her? Her cat was about to give birth!

Max finally picked up his phone. "Hey, I'm at the pet store. What sort of bed should we get for momma and babies?" He asked, sounding all too relaxed.

"Shut the fuck up and get your ass over here!" She cried. "The babies are coming!"

Max ran out of the pet store. He'd never moved so quick in his life (not with his own two legs, at least). In ten minutes flat he was outside of her apartment door, knocking insistently.

Max was just as stressed as she was. But, upon seeing the look on her face, Max let the stress drop. "She'll be okay," he said, pulling her close for just a moment. For a moment was all they had; they had to get to Beaver.

He took charge, sitting her on the bed with a glass of water. The two of them waited while Beaver gave birth. There wasn't much more they could do. Once the kittens were born, Max brought in towels and blankets. He kept a nice distance to her while he set up a lovely warm bed for her and the kittens.

"They're beautiful," he said, not daring to pick them up. "Should we bring Jimmy down here to meet them?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. Let momma and babies rest," she said, laying her head on Max's shoulder.

He squeezed her. "We're gonna be the best cat grandparents," he said. When she held up her hand, Max gave her a high five.

"Can the grandpa take the grandma out for dinner? Is that something a new cat grandparent would enjoy?" He asked, looking down at her with her head still on his shoulder.

She hadn't yet taken her eyes away from the kitten. "Real dinner? Or you just want company?"

"Real dinner, date dinner."

"Love it."

[ink-n-shadow]

I am begging on my knees for more Babysitter!Price SMAU. It’s really good. Feel free to ignore this ofc, don’t wanna make you feel pressured! All your SMAU’s and other works are freaking amazing!

i am so sorry that this part took so long. i have been so busy and tired recently )): so the creative motivation to write this was a little lacking. hopefully y'all like it ;-;

[ DADDY ISSUES ] 𝜗𝜚 the text series where price hires you as his babysitter

⤷ part 𝜗𝜚 one , two , three , four 𝜗𝜚 pairing: single dad!price x babysitter!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: price to the rescue, slightly possessive!price?, price being jealous of some random man

[dcxdpdabbles]

Master Posts Links

All the dabbles I have posted on my DC x DP account. Under a read more due to how long it is. Broken into three categories:

Multi-parts - Dabbles that have more than one part written.

One-shots- Dabbles with only one part written.

Requests- Dabbles written for the requests of readers. (Note: If a request is for a continuation of the other two categories, they will be filed in Milti-parts)

Master Post 1 Link

Master Post 2 Link

Completed AUs Master Post Link

Master

Please read the indexes to determine which master post each au is filed in.

As of 02/10/2024: The newest stuff is inside of Master Post 2. If there are many parts from Master Post 1, they will remain on that one.

MASTER POST 1 INDEX:

Multi-parts:

The Royal Consort,

Child Support

Alfred's Boy

The Adoptive Son

Phantom's Number 1 fan

Passion for Fashion

Danny and The Fan Blog

Congratulations! It's Triplets!:

Ghost King Summon dare

The Dauntless Matchmaker

Demon and Angel Brat

Single Dad

Jason's Doll

Alley Boyfriends

One-shots:

The Assistant

The Ghost Trio's Food Trip

Legal Compensation

Love Among Fans

Lex Luther's Youngest

Misplace Baby:

The Infinite Realms Hobby Store:

Obsession Runs in the Family

Farm Hand

Vague Threats

Game of Deadly Love

Retired-Rouge

The Real Blood Son

The Kid of Candles

Magic Older Brother

Keep The God Kid Busy!

Dog walker

Clockwork's Cookbook

Respawn and Relive

The Summoning Conditions of the Ghost King

Finders Keeper

What's the rule again?

The Contact, the Butler and the Sly Time Lord

Big Fish in Gotham Pond:

Immunity system:

Wrong Number:

Timeline Prevention Squad

Requests

The Masters are Aliens

Ghost Zone Read

Red Hood's Snow

Jason Sees Dead People

Ghost Dad

Wayne Manor Ghost

The Siren of Iceberg Lounge

The Orginal

The Ghost King's Fibs

Red ParentHood

Woo thy Butler, My Lord

Cass the Halfa

Double Vision

Dealeyed Soulmates

Rescue Mission

Danny's Online Persona

Practice makes perfect

MASTER POST 2 INDEX:

Multi-Parts

Cass the Halfa

Danny's Grill

Freelance Inventor

The Audit

Why Ten?

Mr. Flavor

Cluster of Cores

Demon Head Slightly to the left

Danny Fenton's Ex

New Management

One-Shots

Red Yummy

It's all Fun and Games Kids!

Professional Protector of Love

The Backroads

In 30 Minutes or less

One hell of a good bellhop

Mr. Flavor

Danny Fenton's Ex

Corporate Rivals

Rude Kryptonian

The Summoned Demon

New Management

Ecto-Specialist

Side Hustle

Copyright

Love at first (club) meeting

Catnip for heroes

Old Friends

Danny the Nanny

Lights and Camera

Hot Wings

Marriage trap the Office Supplier!

Requests

Batman with a gun's lover

IRS's boogie man

Super Robin

Dear Elder Brother's mistakes

The Undead Florist

Pit's Merman

Dullahan is my roomate

Nightowl Appartement

The one with Sunset Hair

Phone a friend

Billy's Parents

The Cinnamon Roll's son

The ost In-Laws

Cassandra's Curse in Gotham

The Lady and The Dad

Big Brother does not approve

Gotham's star and Shadow

COMPLETED AUS MASTER POST INDEX

The Bakery is a Front!....right?

Cave Boy

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue the movies, nachos, cherry cough syrup, and a couple of moments of clarity. [10k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!! tw sick fic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has the most peculiar curl tucked up by his neck. Where most are frizzy and loose, this one falls in a perfect shiny ringlet below his ear. He shifts and it's out of view, a curtain of dark hair falling forward and hiding his face as he puts your car in park. 

"Remind me why you had to drive?" you ask, ducking down to look at the glaring white lights of the movie theatre across the street. 

"You were gonna fall asleep behind the wheel." 

For once, Eddie might not be exaggerating. He grins at your lack of rebuttal and throws an arm behind your shoulders, twisting in the driver's seat to set his sights on Junie. 

"Are you ready?" he asks her. 

She wiggles. It's an ecstatic movement. Her clothes are prim and sweet if you do say so yourself, a long sleeved shirt under a pair of the world's cutest dungarees. They crinkle as she moves, pressed to perfection. 

You and Eddie open opposite doors in tandem and step out into the brisk, early night. The sidewalk shines with rain, a black slickness stretching in every direction. You shiver and pull your thin jacket tighter to your torso as you turn back to the car, intending to retrieve Junie and rush into the theatre before you can freeze on the spot. 

Eddie's already swung open the door and rescued your daughter from the confines of her car seat, neatening up the hem of one of her socks with her face pushed over his shoulder. 

She giggles about something and Eddie says, "Sorry, June. 'M tickling you, am I?" so fondly you have to avert your eyes. 

He locks the car and hands over your keys with a smile. You smile back, heart flipping like a spinning coin. Head over tails, over and over. 

The big, ring-heavy hand he holds to Junie's back reaches for you suddenly enough that you flinch.

"I'm sorry," he apologises, suppressing a laugh, "your necklace is twisted." 

He moves in a second time and you raise your chin, chest aflame as his fingers glance off of your bare skin. He slips the chain over his index and pulls, encouraging the links around until the clasp is hidden again. 

"Thank you." You huff an awkward, sheepish laugh.

"You owe me," he says, mock-severe. 

Your laugh is much more genuine as you follow him across the road. 

You're squinting as you approach The Hawk movie theatre. The title cards are hard to look at, aggressively white with black capital letters that read, 'The Great Mouse Detective 7'. 

There's a small line of families waiting by the front. You realise it like a shock, that the three of you must look like a family too. 

Eddie carries Junie with the surety of a dad that's carried his child a hundred times before; he strokes the back of her head with the affection of one, soothing the mess of flyaways she'd acquired by squirming in her car seat. Junie responds with familiarity, hands tucked into his hair and tugging. She's trying to be nice but his hair won't allow it, all his long curls tangled at the ends from a day at work. 

Still, he says, "Thanks, baby. Make sure you get the back, okay?" 

"Okay," she echoes. 

You look down at your wringing hands. There's ink smudged up the side of your writing hand. You scratch at it half-heartedly, blinking against your fatigue. 

You're exhausted tonight and it's only Wednesday. You can't imagine how you'll fare tomorrow considering how little sleep you're expecting tonight — there are a thousand things to do when you get home. Laundry to wash and press, cleaning to do, dinner to make. 

You'd been writing cheques for due bills when Eddie had come knocking, well-dressed, stupid-handsome, and announced that tonight you would be accompanying him to the movies. He'd actually said 'accompanying'. 

Despite a full agenda, you'd said yes. You're not very good at saying no. At least, not to him. 

It takes you a moment to realise you're at the front of the line. You pay for the tickets before Eddie can try it, and with his hands full he can't really stop you. He whines about it all the way to the concession stand. 

"You can buy the snacks," you say. His face lights up, and you amend, "If you're reasonable." 

"I'm always reasonable…ly over the top," he says, chided by your hard stare. 

"Yes, you are." 

He follows you down the two steps to the concession and cuts in front of you. "How did you do that? What face was that? I felt my soul leave my body." 

"That's my disapproving mom look. I'm disapproving." 

"Ah." He pats Junie's side sympathetically. 

She pulls her head from over his shoulder and smiles at you. Her arms vy for your hold. You steal her from Eddie and kiss her all over her tiny face, uplifted by how much she loves you, how happy she is to be in your arms. 

"What snacks do you want? Do you eat popcorn with butter? Without?" Eddie asks, his newly emptied arms already posed thoughtfully, a hand under his chin as he thinks over his options. 

The theatre has a huge array of jellies, an even bigger array of candy bars. There are more brands of soda than there are glasses in your kitchen cabinet. 

You're daunted. 

"Whatever you want," you say.

Eddie groans and tips his head back. "Don't play with me like this. Butter or no butter? It's an easy question." 

"I don't know. Without?" 

"You are so weird," he says happily. 

You pout and pull Junie closer. 

Standing at the side while he gathers concessions, too many things, you watch in awe as Eddie stacks it all against his chest with the sure confidence of someone who's done it before.

He grins at you from between two huge cups. "Are we ready?"

If you could, you'd leave him here in the foyer with his jumbo deluxe popcorn. As it stands, you like him too much to leave him behind. You juggle Junie and your bag to push open the doors for him outside of screen two. 

"Thanks, babe," he says outside of screen two. You bite your lip, surprised by his easy tone. 

You climb up the stairs and into your seats. You're high enough for Junie to sit in her own chair between you and Eddie and see the screen comfortably but she adamantly refuses, stretching out in your lap like an alley cat hungry for affection. 

Eddie moves into the ragtag velvet seat beside you, a million things in his lap and at your feet. He's pretty enough under the theatre lights to dull the panging ache at the back of your head. "If she won't sit here, I will. I got you a lemonade, is that cool?" 

If it weren't you'd hardly tell him. 

"She's being extremely well-behaved," Eddie notes, an inkling of pride in his tone. 

You could sucker punch him. Why does he do this to you? 

"I know," you say with a shy smile, "it's suspicious, isn't it?" 

"I don't know. If I were in your lap I might be well-behaved too." He raises his eyebrows, an over-exaggerated show of flirtatiousness. 

You reach over the arm to take a handful of popcorn. Eyes on Junie, you offer her your stolen goods and say, "I've got two thighs." 

"Don't tempt me." 

Junie all but snatches the popcorn and tilts her head back. A kernel falls from her hand and disappears between the seats. You make a mental note to pick it up afterward, ears full of her chomping. 

You'd worried she might be a little loud for the movies but there's a bunch of kids and none seem keen on keeping quiet, a cacophony of childish complaints to hide your conversation. 

"Are babies supposed to eat popcorn?" 

You freeze up. "Oh- I don't know," you say, turning Junie toward you so you can watch her swallow. 

"I thought I read that somewhere, but-" 

"No, I think you're right. Um…" Junie looks at you with obvious confusion. "Was that yummy?" you ask. You hide your concern with a strained bubbly attentiveness. 

"I guess she's old enough." 

Eddie's being very casual – it is casual. He's just thinking out loud. You know he's not criticising you. He never has, though sometimes you think he should. 

It must show on your face anyhow that you're having a 'I'm a bad mom' crisis. A mean stroke of insecurity.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says suddenly, brows pinched, "it's alright. It was just a thought. And she had no problem eating it, I'm sure she's gonna be aces. Better than aces." 

Junie climbs out of your lap and into his. He sets the popcorn on the floor to take her, and when her hands reach for his drink he holds the straw to her mouth. All the while his eyes move between her and you. 

"Okay," you say, because you're being silly. 

Junie is fine. Eddie was only saying something that's very well true. Babies aren't supposed to have popcorn, but June's not a baby, really. She knows how to chew properly. It's unlikely she'll choke. 

Eddie has to keep his focus on her to avoid getting soaked – she barely knows how to use a straw and keeps trying to turn the cup upside down. 

"Not like that, trouble. Right way up. You got it." 

You pick at the loose stitching at the end of your shirt and have to change the subject before the embarrassment of it all swallows you. Such a small thing. 

"Can I try one of these?" you ask, grabbing the first bag of candy you can find. They're a bag of Super Sour Suckers. 

He looks at you over Junie's head, startled and hiding it poorly. Then, a smile so bright it increases the embarrassment you're feeling tenfold.

"You have to! Robin said they're even worse than the normal ones, I don't wanna go through that alone," he says urgently. 

Robin is one of his friends. You're not jealous that he has friends (though you are, because you want your own, but not jealous that he has friends that aren't you). He's mentioned her in passing before. When you'd asked as bravely as you dared if they were anything more than friends he'd laughed maniacally.

"We're definitely just friends," he'd said.

You fight to stay smiling and pull open the bag of candies. Ironically, the jellies inside are shaped like pacifiers. Covered in sugar packed densely and looking almost wet with what you suspect to be citric acid, you shake the packet wearily and search for a candy that won't ruin your tongue.

Eddie holds out his hand. You drop a green one into his palm. Your fingertips ride up the curve of his thumb. 

He's unflinching as he eats it. After a few seconds his eyes screw up and he clutches June tight to his chest, raising an unhelpful hand to his jaw. 

"Holy sugar," he says, wincing. 

You bite into a pink pacifier unfortunately layered in sugar and wait nervously for the sourness to kick in. Sure enough, it comes quick and torturous. It's a knife cutting through fog. 

It's hard to feel tired when there's something this sour in your mouth.

"You can't spit it out!" Eddie says.

You stop with your hand halfway to your mouth. "What?" you ask incredulously, trying not to dribble. 

"You gotta eat it! Chew and swallow!" 

You chew miserably. He laughs at your expression – a warm and hyper sound, practically giggling. Junie joins in as she always does. His joy can't be overstated. 

The lights go down while you're still fighting for your life. Your eyes water and you have to smother the taste with a quick drink and a gasping breath. 

"You're sick. I can't believe you let me eat that," you whisper. 

"You saw me eat mine! You knew what you were getting into… Think June wants one?" 

Your outrage has him laughing again. It's a magnetic sound. Every time he does it you want to touch him, his arm one pole and your hand another. 

Junie gets comfortable on his right leg, head tipped expectantly against his chest and eyes drawn to the screen as the trailers begin. You don't bother with jealousy; in ten minutes she'll be climbing over the arm to sit with you again, or want to sit in her own seat. She may even try to walk around. Toddlers are indecisive and easily distracted. 

Even if she weren't. Even if she sat there in his lap for the next hour and a half and didn't look your way, you're not sure you could harbour any envy against him. His hand spreads over the front of her torso with fingers splayed against her ribs, stroking thoughtlessly through the fabric of her thick clothes.  

He tips his head toward your chair. "There's nachos." 

"I saw." 

"Wanna eat some before they get cold?" 

"Subtle." 

He snorts. "Yep. That's what they call me. Eddie Subtle Munson." 

You reach over the dark floor for the tray of nachos and balance them carefully on the armrest between your two seats. Eddie digs in without fuss, you fret over which ones have jalapeños on them, and Junie gets mad that nobody's sharing with her. She puts her hands straight in a mound of orange cheese. Her face is a picture when she brings it to her mouth. She's discovered molten gold. 

"Junie," Eddie says lightly, carding hair away from her ear so she can hear him properly. "Don't get cheese on your pretty clothes. It took your mom a week to get the rocky road out of your strawberry jammies, you know?" 

He doesn't care that she's mauled the food. He's worried she might stain her dungarees. Your heart goes crazy, another sudden surge of clarity.  

Junie climbs back into your own lap as the movie begins. You whisper to her about proper theatre etiquette in your mommy voice and she doesn't do too bad a job at listening. She finds the appearance of the Great Mouse Detective himself quite funny, and laughs at his grave features and expressions every now and then. It's a golden sound. 

Try as you might, you can't keep your eyes open. Junie's having such a good time and Eddie whispers funny commentary beside you, but eventually your eyelids creep shut and Eddie squeezes your arm, skin braceleted by his thick, warm fingers. 

-

"C'mere," Eddie prompts, hands vying for your daughter where she's perched in your lap. 

"Why?" Junie asks. 

He's surprised at her inquisition. "You don't want a hug?" 

She nods voraciously. Eddie lifts her off of your lap before she can use you as a climbing frame and into his own.

"I think mommy's sleeping," he tells her. 

Junie looks at you curiously. You've got a wet wipe in your limp hand, which he takes and discards, and your head's fallen to one side. You'll have an awesome crick in your neck when you wake up.

Junie gives him a hug. He loves her hugs. They're so small and sweet, she's genuinely an extremely loving little girl. Her smile when she hugs people is beautiful as yours is, though her affection is less hesitant. 

Everything's going well until she catches a look at the huge, scary bad guy Professor Ratigan somewhere in the middle. 

Eddie's crunching through a greedy mouthful of popcorn and almost chokes as she turns around and hides in his chest. He brings a hand up to her back protectively though he doesn't know what happened, eyes moving between her and the screen at lightning speed. 

"Aw, June," he murmurs sympathetically. He really is a scary looking guy. 

"Eddie," she says, dangerously close to tears. 

"Sweetheart, it's okay! He's only on TV." 

She says something that might be, "Don't want." It's not quite there but Eddie thinks she's doing a great job lately with her talking, patting her back in a silent well done as he attempts to reassure her. "Basil's gonna outsmart him, Junie. The Great Mouse Detective is gonna save the day, scout's honour." 

"No," she whines softly. 

He covers her unhappy face with his hand. 

"It's okay," he murmurs, melted and bemused. "It's okay, junebug. I swear." 

Despite his best efforts, she starts to cry. Eddie freezes up because she doesn't cry often, not with him. When she does you're always there to find a solution. He supposes the novelty of being a new person has long worn off, and that he's going to have to make more of an effort than just tickling her or petting her hair to make it better. 

Her volume increases. He shushes her, clumsy and awkward but earnest, trying the best that he can to make it up. He offers candies and drinks, he rummages through your baby bag for Mr. Bear. She takes it all but none of it lasts.

Someone in the chair behind him coughs pointedly. 

Eddie turns to wake you up. He gets one good look at your face and can't follow through. 

You're sleeping deeply, at the movie theatre of all places. How tired are you, and why hadn't you said? He'd known to some extent — it's why he'd offered to drive — but with the movie blaring and all the kids and noise and now Junie's crying, he realises you must be exhausted to sleep through it. Why hadn't he noticed? He kicks himself.

He lifts her up with his head angled down, giving your shoulder a swift squeeze and then bumping down the steps with Junie until he's out into the lights of the hallway. The door swings closed. 

It's oddly quiet and extremely bright. Junie stops crying to blink, and starts to cry again once she's adjusted. 

Eddie does not know what to do. It's a kick to his ego that he quickly accepts, though he does murmur a rueful, "Babe, I thought you liked me." 

Lost on deaf ears, his comment hangs in the air. 

He pats her back some more, wracking his brain for how you take care of her when she gets like this. Mostly, you're patient. You hum and you wait. Eddie tries to emulate you and your kind heart, walking her up and down the hall as he taps the bottom of her spine. 

"It's okay," he repeats. The more he says it the easier it feels. It is okay. He has to find a way to help June understand that, is all.

She grizzles. It's a long process. A couple of times he wonders if he's in over his head, if it's even his place, if he should wake you up and admit defeat. 

But Eddie Munson is trying to prove something. 

He works Mr. Bear out of Junie's iron grip and pinches his back taut so that his face and arms wiggle when he wants them to. 

"Baby June," he begins, in as gruff a voice as he can manage. He tries to channel his uncle's sternness, and his fondness. "Won't you quit crying? You're getting tears on the neck of your t-shirt and all over your cheeks." 

Junie quietens. She still cries, but the severity of the situation noticeably shifts. 

Eddie keeps on. "I got just the thing," he says, pushing Mr. Bear forward and making smacking sounds as he kisses both of her cheeks. "Gotta kiss these tears right off a'you." 

She laughs as Mr. Bear kisses her face dry and laughs some more when Eddie kisses the top of her head.

Eddie loves Junie. 

He knows it for a fact. 

She's very easy to love. She's beautiful as you are, she's loving, she's sweet. Her laugh is adorable and her smile is more. When she cries, Eddie finds he's never annoyed. Grated by the repetitive sound, maybe, but he can't find it in himself to be mad with her ever. He wants to help her work through it. To get you both through it. Eddie wants to be good at this.

He has Mr. Bear kiss Junie all over her face. 

"See?" Mr. Bear asks. "Isn't that better? No more tears, little girl, or we'll never see the end of the movie!" 

As Eddie says it, he wonders if taking her back into the theatre is a good idea. 

"Hey, junebug?" he says, all drama set aside. 

Junie lifts her flushed face. 

He smiles gratefully. "Do you wanna go back inside? Go check on mommy?" Leaving you by yourself doesn't exactly sit right with him.

Ah, there's the face he was expecting. Puzzlement, surprise. Junie frowns at him and looks over his shoulder, her own, searching the empty hallway for you and finding only reflective floor lights and patterned carpet. 

Eddie starts back into the screen room before she can cry over your being missing, chatting quietly but in a way that commands her attention. He's effective in the art of distraction if nothing else.  

The mouse detective and his friends have defeated Professor Ratigan, though Eddie shields Junie's head from the screen in case he's thinking about making a comeback, finding his way back to you in the dark. He picks over other people's snacks and then the abundance of your own, finding you still sound asleep. The sight doesn't spell good tidings. 

"Here she is," Eddie tells Junie, "here's mom. You wanna give her a kiss?" 

He sits down in his seat and squishes a bag of gummy worms under his boot. Junie immediately bends over the armrest and grabs at your front. You'd worried to him once that she had separation anxiety, and Eddie didn't know anything about it to agree or not. This display makes him think she might. She's clinging to you, desperately wanting your attention. 

Eddie winces as she grabs your face. She's obviously not trying to be cruel, hand stroking over your cheek as you'd stroke hers. 

"Mom," she whispers, the action itself enough to get Eddie laughing. Her version of whispering is almost like a character in a pantomime. 

He doesn't laugh for very long. You're not easy to wake up. Junie squishes your cheek and tries again. "Mommy," she says.

You groan in your sleep and your eyes scrunch together. "What?" you murmur finally, voice scratchy. 

"You're missing the movie," Eddie says, patting your thigh. 

Your arms come to life before you do. You wrap them around Junie's short torso and encourage her up your chest until you can nose at the top of her head. You rub slow lines, a steady back and forth. Eddie would bet money you don't have a clue in the world where you are. 

"S'loud," you complain. Your voice is weak with sleep. 

Junie looks at Eddie weirdly. He suspects it's her way of asking him to help out without asking. 

He tenses his hand where it rests at your thigh. "Do you wanna go home?" 

You don't answer. You go limp under his touch and Junie's weight, nose and lips set in a frown but otherwise near languid. 

Eddie's small (and alarmingly ever-present) worry for you multiplies by a hundred. 

He grabs up a bag of chips and entices your daughter back onto his thigh. She digs through half the bag as the movie draws to a finish, distracted if not happy, her face and fingers swiftly flaked in corn dust. The lights are thrown up and the noise is immense, a hundred pairs of shoes over tipped popcorn, babies and young kids unsettled, their parents eager to head home and watch their own movies no doubt. 

Eddie can't say he'd really watched the film besides precursory glances, his focus on you and your fidgety offspring. He'd been excited to tell you about his Junie success, but now he just wants to get you home.

He says your name as clearly as he can, his hand finding its way to your thigh for the third time. He rubs down toward your knee and gives your leg a shake. 

Junie climbs off of his own. Now the lights are on she can see the grand assortment of snacks laid out before her, and she seems eager to try them all. 

You eventually, thankfully rouse, you drag a palm over your eyes and cross your legs, squishing his hand in the process. He steals it back.

"Babe, you gotta get up. The attendants are looking at us funny. I think they think I've run you ragged, and while the dad tag doesn't bother me, 'cruel husband' doesn't suit me." 

"What?" you ask. 

He shrugs. "Junie pissed her pants." 

Your eyes open, lashes parting clumsily. You move like the air around you has turned to glue and moan in a quiet display of agony as your neck clicks. "She leaked through?"

"Nah, I'm messing with you. Movie's done. Getting some weird stares." 

You're quiet, but you shrug on your jacket and Eddie packs what he can of the leftover candy into your bag. He swings it over his shoulder. 

"You wanna come up?" he asks Junie. 

She raises both arms. 

You stand on shaky legs. Eddie stations Junie on one hip with one arm wrapped around her and holds out the other. You let him fold you up into his side.

"You okay?" he asks. 

Your face drops into his shoulder. "I'm so tired." 

"You're alright to walk out to the car?" 

His worry is like a rubber band. You snap to attention, disengage from his hold. It's a foreign and really uncomfortable feeling to see you out of sorts. 

Eddie walks behind you with a hand nearly but not touching your back. If you topple, he's not sure how he's gonna save you. Determined anyways, he guards you down the hollow stairs and through the hallway, one step behind you. 

It's a cool, crisp night outside. 

The smell of rain sticks around. You lift your chin. It's much colder now that night's fallen. The breeze kisses your damp skin. When did you start sweating? 

He presses his hand to your shoulders and guides you across the road. 

Junie starts her lovely babbling in his ear. "Mouse 'tective," she says at one point. You don't react, affirming his theory: you're more than tired. You're sick. 

"Mouse detective," he agrees, arm around your shoulder to assuage his own worries as he gives Junie the best of his attention. "You liked that one, huh?" Besides the evil Professor. "Better than the Muppets in New York? Junebug, you little traitor. How easily your favour changes." 

"Are you surprised? She took to you like," — you yawn wide enough that Eddie feels it under his arm, a full body thing — "a duck to water." 

He beams, relieved to hear your voice. "Yeah, well, I'm special." 

"That's true."

Eddie walks you around to the passenger side and opens your door. 

"Flirting! Awesome. You're not too sick to forget how much of a catch I am. Watch your head." 

"I gotta do Junie's straps," you say. 

"I think I can do it by now."

He's only sort of bluffing. It takes him much longer than it would've taken you. He celebrates his win by pinching her cheek lightly and then whacking his head hard on the roof of your car. 

"Fuck," he mutters as he jogs around the hood, scrubbing at the back of his head. 

You're staring at him as he opens the door. 

He puts the baby bag in your lap and shoves the key in the ignition, trying not to buckle under the weight of your gaze. He cracks quicker than he should, hand paused in its action.

"What?" 

"You tryna give yourself a concussion?" 

"Kiss it better?" 

You kiss the tip of your finger and touch it to his head. It's an instant healing potion. 

Getting you both home is easy enough, it's the trying to leave that's hard. You collapse heavily into the couch, Junie drapes herself over your lap and begs for her clothes to be taken off. Your second wind has worn away to nothing, leaving you plainly exhausted. 

Eddie can't go home, not until he knows you're alright. 

He slinks into your bedroom and tries not to look around too much. It feels like an invasion of privacy despite having made it in here a couple of times, always with his hip to the door as you search for something. He fails spectacularly and straight away, always hungry to know more about you. These days especially. 

Your bed looks like you shook out the duvet but never tucked the corners. Your pillow's on the floor, your thin throw blanket is screwed up in a ball. There's a bunch of Junie's stuffies against the headboard. He grins at their straight backs.

He makes for your wardrobe, a cheap bit of cherry wood with one sagging door. As much as he wants to outfit Junie in her goodwill band t-shirt, he pulls a soft pair of cotton pyjamas out from a neatly folded stack, thumbing the blue fabric fondly. There's a noticeable disparity between her clothes and yours. One work skirt and one work shirt hang from two lonely hangers, accompanied only by your infamous 'best jeans'. He frowns at a small stain at the knee and scratches it fruitlessly. Not her best jeans, he thinks in horror, picturing your unhappy face. He can see it so clearly, the pinching of your brows.

Junie squeals happily from the living room. Eddie remembers himself and follows the sound, finding you both on the ground. You're kneeling, blowing raspberries into Junie's naked stomach where she lays on her changing mat, a discarded diaper and her dirty clothes to the side. 

There's a big break between raspberries where your eyes drift shut sluggishly. Junie whines for another.

Eddie sits next to you. Stupidly close, his crossed leg kisses your thigh. He could wrap you up in a hug easily right here, and he wants to. Your tired face has his stomach aching with guilt. 

"Sweetheart," he says to you firmly, "get back on the couch. You look like you're gonna fall asleep right here." 

You don't argue, leaving Eddie the impossible duty of dressing your baby. Junie hates the shirt more than he can describe, loathes the fabric as it covers her face. He has to pick her up to get her into her pants, another fury. She forgives him easily once he's done, lingering by his side with Mr. Bear in hand. She pinches his back and imitates Eddie's low growl, laughing at herself as she does. She finds it very funny. Eddie can't help giggling with her. 

"Eddie?" you ask. 

He turns. You look miserable. 

"What?" he asks softly, startled by your intense expression. 

"Thank you." 

"Oh, baby," he says, loud and brash as he twists where he is to grab both of your knees. He practically throws himself at you, at your feet, ducking his cheek to your leg. "You really are sick as a dog." 

You look visibly embarrassed.

"Listen," he says, insistent, "If we start saying thank you to each other, we won't stop. We'll be a loop of thank yous." 

"I think I have more to say than you do," you murmur. 

He shakes his head, exasperated at your inability to see him for what he is even now. It's funny. Eddie thinks you've a better view of him than anybody else, that you see him more generously than anyone has ever seen him, and you still haven't noticed he's a boy in love. 

You must feel his grin as he kisses your knee, his thumb stroking over the ridge of the cap. 

"If I started to say thanks for all the things you've given me I wouldn't stop. I'd talk myself hoarse," Eddie argues. 

You laugh at his dungeon master dramatics, but reaffirm, "I haven't given you anything." 

"You don't know what you've given me," he says into your leg. 

Eddie lifts his head, weary of his chin digging into your leg. 

Now isn't the best time to declare devotion, or drop kisses into you when you can't offer any in return. Not that he's expecting you to. Not that he wouldn't receive them gratefully. 

"I should go home." 

You reach for him. Your hand moves slowly like you've a weight around your wrist, but your fingertips curve over his cheek; you move from the corner of his lip, under his eye, and then finish your circle at the skin beneath his ear. 

"Can you hug me?" you ask. 

"Yeah," Eddie says. He doesn't waste any time.

He gets up, slides a knee between your knees and rests his full weight on the couch between them as his arms curve around you and his hands feel for the dip of your lower back. He clutches without any hesitation. 

"Can I? Did you mean it like that? My arms work fine." 

You curl your arms around him and groan. "You're gonna crush me." 

"Really?" He pulls you closer. "How 'bout now?" 

"Ow," you whine. 

He laughs and pushes his face toward your ear. "Liar," he whispers. "No way that hurts." 

"Why's everybody always on top of me?" 

"That's your issue?" He pulls back. "You want to sit in my lap?" 

"No!" 

"Aw, my poor girl. You totally wanna sit in my lap. Alright, get in it." 

He sits down beside you and waits, one arm still behind your back. He gives you an encouraging tug. 

"I'm not sitting in your lap." 

"I didn't think you would, just- Just c'mere," he prompts, pulling your face into his chest. 

Your arms slide around his waist. He can feel the scratchy skin on your left index finger, a scar of a recent kitchen accident, against his hip where his shirt has ridden. 

"You're really handsy. Has anyone told you that before?" Eddie asks, trying to cover the entirety of your back with his arms alone. 

You push your face as far as it'll go into his chest. Eddie keeps you there, and soon a little body has found its way onto the couch next to you both, demanding to be included. Eddie quickly drags her in. 

Long minutes of quiet hugs. 

"Wish we could stay like this forever," you murmur.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. If you were worried." 

He massages over the slope of your shoulder, a tight looking muscle. You sigh inaudibly, a hot patch over his heart. 

"I wasn't," you say. 

Eddie thinks you might finally be on the same page. 

-

You get really, really sick. 

"On my days off!" you croak, the injustice too much to handle. 

Eddie laughs from the end of your bed, a bandana tied around his face like a doctor from one of his awful horror movies, though the bandana is far from a clinical white. "That's exactly why you're still sick. Your body sensed the weekend." 

Hadn't it? You'd been achy and awful on Friday and Benny had sent you home at lunch, citing a need to keep his patrons from infection. Which sucked, because you'd really wanted to stick around for the very beginning of the Friday night rush and get some payday tips. People are generous when they're high on the buzz of a forthcoming weekend, especially to over obsequious waitresses.

It had sucked worse when Junie came out of daycare in the best mood ever and demanded kisses. You'd had a headache the size of a tennis ball behind your eyes and didn't want to pass anything over, and the crushed look on her face had made you cry in the car on the way home. 

Eddie dropped in particularly early that night with soup. "I had a feeling," he'd said. 

And now here he is again the day after. 

"At least one of us is enjoying this," you say. 

"You think I'm enjoying this?" Eddie asks. 

You give his precautionary outfit a once over. "Yes." 

"This is just something I had lying around." 

"Shut up! Shut up, no it wasn't!" You're voice cracks, giggly and giddy even with the spikes of pain to your tender head. 

"It was. We did a campaign, I was a plague doctor-" 

"That is in terrible taste." 

"It was perfectly appropriate, thank you very much. You're determined to vilify me. Need to slow down with the cold medicine, I think." 

You shriek as he tries to take the bottle. "No! No, please, my throat hurts." 

He takes the bottle. It is a hurtful defeat. You curl your fingers around nothing and sulk, slouching down into a sanctuary of pillows and blankets to hide from him. Extra pillows provided by Eddie. With fresh covers, duh. They smell like him anyway. You turn your nose into it indulgently. 

"You've had too much to safely be responsible for any further consumption." 

"Further consumption," you echo, eyes closing in defeat as he leaves. 

"You okay, June?" you hear him ask, voice occluded partially by the sound of the TV. 

"Okay, Eddie?" she asks. 

You grin to yourself. 

"I'm great. This looks very fun. I'm gonna make mom a cold pack for her head and then you can help me make dinner, okay? Does that sound fun? Tell me, June." 

The 'Tell me, June,' isn't a command so much as a gentle reminder that she can answer the question if she wants to. 

"Fun," she says.  

"Hey, great. Oh, thank you. Thank you." 

They better not be cuddling without me, you think bitterly, grin swiftly replaced by a self-pitying frown. 

You cough into your hand, roil in your own misery for a second and then grab the big glass of water Eddie had insisted on from the night stand. You tip it down yourself in your hurry. 

"Missed your mouth," Eddie says, appearing at exactly the wrong moment. 

"Don't baby me." 

He pads into the room with a cold pack wrapped in a hand towel. "For your head." 

"This is silly. I don't need to be in bed."

"Obviously you do. You're sick, did you notice? Stupid question," he adds regretfully, gesturing for you to lie back. He sets the pack to your forehead. "You wouldn't notice a hole in your stomach. You'd be dripping entrails in the freezer aisle wondering if Junie wants corn on the cob or mashed potato with dinner tonight." 

"What does she want for dinner tonight?" 

"Boo! Exactly my point." 

"I'm gonna go ask her-" 

Eddie puts an unapologetic hand in the middle of your chest and pushes down. "You will do no such thing." He lowers his face to yours. "I'm willing to get physical. So behave." 

You flush with heat because you're sick and not because he says it a certain way, dropping back down into your fluffed pillows without another word. 

Eddie's hand climbs up to your collar, your neck. His fingers slide one after another behind it. It's a blessed cold. You can't find a comfortable temperature today, moving between chills and hot flashes at the drop of a hat.

Or a bandana. Eddie unties the dark fabric from his neck and leaves it where it lands, staring at you without saying anything. 

His thumb presses into your sore throat carefully, the barest hint of pressure, and his lips part. He doesn't say anything for a while. It looks like he wants to. 

"Do me a favour?" he asks finally.

"Of course." Anything to feel useful right now. 

"Take it easy." He again lowers his head, talking to you with a private smile. "The sooner you chill out, the sooner you'll beat this thing." 

"Don't say that. Like I have something serious." 

"The sooner you'll beat this moderate-" 

"Mild-" 

"-affliction." He strokes quarter-circles into your neck.

"I don't need to lie down. There's things I have to do." 

"On a Saturday?" 

"Yes. There's things I need to do everyday." You clear your throat. It's useless, the lump remains and your voice stays scratchy. "I have- I always have laundry. So that first. Gotta wash it and put it out and bring it in and press it. I gotta make sure Junie has lunch for daycare this week 'n if she doesn't I have to go get it, I gotta," — you cover his hand with your own thoughtlessly — "make sure her rash is getting better. And I promised we'd do a tea party tomorrow, I have to make sandwiches!" 

"We both know she doesn't remember the tea party." 

"I promised." 

"And if I… If I tried to get all those things done, would you stay in bed?" 

"You can't." 

"But if I tried it? I can do laundry. I'm good at it. Get oil stains out of Wayne's coveralls every Sunday." 

You slump into a lump of sadness and achy arms. "Don't do my laundry. Don't do any of that stuff. I'll punch you if you do." 

Eddie bursts into laughter. "You'll punch me? You horrible woman." 

"I will," you promise, fingers curling around his arm to hold him in place. 

"Why don't I believe you?" 

"I don't know. 'Cos you're a know-it-all who dislikes me." 

"I far from dislike you." He grins at you, all dimpled and pretty. "I don't believe you'd hit me because I know you, idiot." 

"Name-calling." 

"Uh-huh. Are you sleeping or am I helping you out onto the couch?" 

While you're happy for the compromise, you have one problem. "I don't think I can move." 

Eddie lets his face fall amicably to your collar. "No, I bet you can't. More reason for me to get you on the couch. I think you've genuinely had too much cough syrup," he worries, warm breath fanning over your skin. 

You bring your spare hand to his head. He has so many curls. 

He lifts his head and you're close enough to kiss. There's no other reason anyone has ever been this close. 

"I can see your beauty mark," you say, hushed. You don't wanna breathe on him too much. 

"Freckle." 

"Your freckle." You lift and drop his curls, fingers toying through the softness towards his roots, the frizz at the ends. 

"You- You smell like fucking cherry syrup."

You abandon his hair to clap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry." 

He covers his own mouth. "It's okay," he says, similarly muffled. "I like the sweet stuff." 

What the fuck does that mean? Your stomach doesn't flip — it leaps right up into your throat. "You're an idiot," you breathe, caught off guard. 

"What was that?" he asks, taking away his hand. "Didn't catch it." 

"I said, 'You're an-" 

"Amazing friend and confidante?" 

You try to talk and he says, "A real stand-up guy?" 

You try again and he says, "A total rockstar? Baby, if you really think all this you should've said." 

You flop completely onto your back, away from his hands, his jokes and his lovely brown eyes where they bore into your own. Eddie hums and rubs brashly over the top of your arm until the skin glows with heat. 

"Please stay in bed," Eddie says as he stands. 

Medicine or his touch, you're feeling pretty tired. You pull up your blankets and sink like a stone, head disappearing into a mess of pillows and throws. 

-

It's much later when you wake. You move into the land of the living abrupt as whiplash. 

Eddie seems very sorry. "Sweetheart, June's past due for a new diaper, and I-" 

"Oh, right," you say, sounding much more alert than you feel. You're a girl made of sandpaper. 

"I would've, I mean. If it wouldn't make you uncomfortable, I would've tried. But I've never changed a diaper in my life." 

You scratch your flaky eyes, disorientated and head like a boiling saucepan with the lid glued on. 

"That's okay," you say. Your voice refuses to cooperate with you, gruff and too quiet. "It wouldn't bother me, but it's also not your job, so… Um." You yawn wide and cover your entire face. 

You spend a minute rubbing your eyes. 

"Fuck, what time's it?" you ask, squinting at him and bringing your hands to either side of your face.

"Like, seven. Ish." 

"Eddie…" 

"I know. I thought you could use the rest. I knew you could. And it's not urgent, you know? Come around, first. Everything's stellar." 

You peel back the sheets. You're a clammy, too-hot mess with weak legs. 

Eddie sees you wobble and rushes to wrap an arm around your waist. Completely unnecessarily, heart-achingly kind. You wince at the dampness of your shirt under his touch.

Junie sits on the couch in her jammies with a yellow-green soup stain down the front. She's propped up like a princess, a pillow behind her head between the armrest and her blanket covering her legs, cheek pressed to the cushions. Eyes trained on the TV and her bottle propped in a slackening grip, your baby is peaceful, near luxurious. 

Only a little wiggle might suggest she's uncomfortable.

You part from Eddie's side and sit down beside her, the seat warm. She doesn't even look up. 

"What, no hi for mom?" you ask tenderly, hand falling to the top of her head. She's lovely. 

She gasps, little lungs fit to burst. It's pure excitement, her bottle dislodged and the blanket pushed away immediately. She doesn't bother getting to her feet, throwing herself into your lap and assuming you'll do the rest. Of course you will. You pull her up and kiss the top of her head, though you quickly hold her at arm's length. 

"Sorry, mommy's still sick," you tell her, sympathetic at her crushed expression. 

"Mis'd," she says. 

"Yeah? You missed me?" you ask hopefully. 

Her lips part in comprehension. "Missed you," she confirms. 

You throw your gaze over your shoulder to Eddie. He stands by Junie's changing station with a smug smile. "What?" 

"You're not very convincing." 

"I'm not trying to convince you, thanks," he says, holding up two hands in surrender. 

"She didn't learn that herself," you argue. 

"She might've. You tell her enough." 

You go back to your girl, pleased at her own smug smile. "I missed you, too, I missed you so much. Missed you millions. Sorry I've been sleeping all day, you've been such a good girl. She has, hasn't she?"

Eddie sorts through a nearly empty bag of diapers and brandishes one with fish printed on the back. "Oh, yeah. Junebug's been amazing. She came in with me to see you earlier, took your temperature." You frown. "From a distance. Kind of. I held her above you. It was… acrobatic." 

You close your eyes at his absurdity, your laugh prompting another spike of pain. 

Junie forces herself closer and gets both arms around your neck. 

You sag into the contact, defeated. "Aw, June," you mumble ruefully. "M'trying to make sure you don't get sick too. Wasting my time." 

"Mommy," she says into your neck. 

"That's me." 

You know she has something she wants to say. You can't wait for the days where she can. Exciting, to think that one day she'll be able to share all of her thoughts. 

Right now, she's probably thinking, Woah, mom, you smell weird. And you look weirder.

You feel her back with your hand and cringe. Definitely time to get her changed.

Afterward, you sit with your back to the open front door on one of the porch steps. Physical exertion of any kind seems to be inadvisable; you're sweating up a storm. Junie sits beside you at her own insistence, her hand clasped in your hand and her head on your arm. You look down at her thighs next to your own and marvel at their small size. The evening breeze is a blessing. 

Eddie stands in front of you with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a checklist. 

"Tea party sandwiches are badly made and saran wrapped in the fridge. Junie doesn't have lunch for Monday but I can go tomorrow if you want me to. Her clothes are folded in the hamper. Uh, some stuff got left out, you might need to press them. Not tonight though, please." 

"Thank you." 

He talks around a smile. "Soup's on the stove. I'll come back later, if-" 

"You don't have to." 

"I want to. I wouldn't actually leave, but-" 

"Eddie-" You cough into your shoulder. He waits for you to finish. "You- You didn't have to take care of me." 

"What does that mean? Of course I did." 

He hikes his backpack higher up his shoulder and pads back up the steps, not all of them but enough for him to lean down and stare at Junie. 

"Thanks for the best day ever," he says seriously, looking out of the corner of his eye at you. "Almost. See you later?" 

Junie nods voraciously and reaches up with her empty hand. Eddie takes it and kisses her temple. He does the same to you, lips brushing soft as downy-feather over your skin. 

"I'll come back around ten? Is that cool?" 

"Don't knock too loudly," you mumble, very aware of his proximity. 

He backs up and bows like an idiot, hand moving in circles. 

You and Junie wave him off. 

"To work?" Junie asks.  

Your eyebrows jump as you pull your gaze from his retreating figure. "Huh?" 

"To work?" 

You play with her fingers. "No, he's not going to work. He's going to take care of someone else, now." 

Wayne, Eddie said, in a fondly exasperated tone that explained everything you needed to know. His uncle's self-preservation must come in similar disinterest to himself as yours does to you. 

"We'll see him tomorrow," you say. It's not even a lie, you will both see him tomorrow. 

But apparently he's coming back tonight. 

-

True to his word, Eddie Munson knocks your door carefully at nearing ten o'clock. 

Wayne's dismissal chases his heels. He'd spent an hour worrying about you at the dinner table with his uncle, fingers curling anxiously in his hair. 

Wayne had been talking about some gab the boys in the shop had heard about killer mice or killer lice or something when he'd suddenly cleared his throat and snapped Eddie to attention. 

"You're a good kid. Notice how I said good, and not smart," Wayne had said. 

"Gee, thanks. You always did know how to make a guy feel loved, Wayne." 

"You don't wanna be here." 

Eddie had frowned. "Obviously I do." 

"Kid, what I mean is, you gotta," — he'd nodded his head hard to one side and raised his eyebrows — "you know." 

"Haven't brushed up on my mysterious gestures lately. Translate that one for me?" 

Wayne had flicked up his newspaper and sighed. "Don't be dumb." 

"You keep saying that." 

"You keep being dumb, boy." 

"I don't know what you want me to do." 

"Think you better go look after your girl, don't you?" Wayne had asked finally, clearing his throat. 

So here he is to look after you. A tad early, worried you'll be sleeping on the couch with a misbehaving baby in your lap or passed out in the bathroom after an impromptu cleaning. 

Thankfully, you open the door in different clothes than he'd left you in, the neckline dark with run-off and face damp under your eyes and by your ears. You dab at your tacky skin with your index knuckle. 

"You look better," he says. He wishes he could take it back instantly, though you don't take any offence. 

"Hot shower," you explain. 

You step back to let him in. Eddie closes the door behind him without turning, eyes glued to your fresh face. He's depressed by the lingering fatigue he finds lining your darling features. 

"You okay?" you ask him, perturbed by his silence. 

Eddie's better than okay. 

He steps close. You look like you might step back, make room for him he doesn't want, so he reaches out for your face and holds it in one hand, the other landing in tandem on your arm.

Your cheek lists into his hand as he wipes away what's left of the dampness on your face. He's not sure you know you're doing it. 

"Did you take any more medicine?" he asks quietly, rubbing under your eye carefully with the tip of his thumb.

"No, I- I think you fixed me, Munson. Me and Junie had your soup, and after a shower I felt way better. It was really nice. She slept easy." 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. "You don't feel too hot." 

"Like I said. Fixed me. My hero." 

He looks over your shoulder at your life — at his life, or at least where a majority of it seems to take place. All his favourite parts these days happen right there on your couch, or at that table, or knee to knee with a baby that isn't his but- but-

"You said that to me the first time we met," Eddie recalls, shaking his head. It's like there's water in his ears. A few strands of hair drift into his eyes. 

You catch his elbows in both hands. "It feels like a really long time ago now." 

Months. Only months. "I feel like I've known you for years."

He strokes over your face, chin to cheek, the tip of his thumb pressed to the corner of your mouth. 

"That's how I feel, too," you whisper. Utter. Hushed, your words ring loud anyway. "You're my best friend." 

Eddie doesn't take it for a door closing because it isn't. It's a door kicked wide open. Split on its hinges. You and Eddie stand on equal ground, and, for once, the same page.

"You know I don't mind taking care of you?" he asks, hand passing over your ear to hide behind it. He wants to see all of your face. 

Predictably, you drop your eyes to his neck, pupils wobbling as you search for somewhere to plant yourself. "I know. I'm not sure I deserve it." 

"Why wouldn't you deserve it? Everyone deserves taking care of." 

"Even murderers?" 

"Maybe not murderers-" 

"The evil guys from your game? Necromancers?" 

"They're not all evil." His left palm skirts up the curve of your neck, encouraging your face back to his. "Don't change the subject." 

You press your lips together, caught.

"I actually…" — he gathers as much bravery as he has — "want to take care of you." 

"You do." 

He holds your face in both hands. "You know you- You know you started it, right? You know it's- that without your-" He cringes internally at his stammering, but he has to get this part right. "You have gold where your heart should be." 

"Y/N The Golden Hearted. Doesn't have the best ring to it," you muse, hands clinging to the crooks of his elbows like twin pooled teardrops waiting to fall. 

Eddie stares at you, floored.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" he asks. 

"What's your name?" you demand, grinning. 

"Eddie the Subtle. Munson the Mad."  

You huff a laugh. "That's a cop-out."

"Maybe." 

"How about…" The air feels thick as jelly. Light from under the bedroom door stops short of your legs, your toes almost touching. His rubber soles, your socks. "Eddie the Indomitable?" 

He crinkles his nose. "I'd almost think you were trying to flirt with me, that's how bad that is." 

Your blinks are slow. Your eyes soften. 

"What if I was?" you ask. 

A stock-still silence pervades, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator and the droning of the bathroom light, left on. He could tell you the contents of this room by its sounds alone. 

His hand moves of its own accord, up and down the slope of your neck. "I'd say you needed a better pick up line."

"Like what?" you ask, chest rising too fast. 

Eddie takes a step and feels his jacket zipper cut into the cotton of your shirt. It's your matching band t-shirt. 

Eddie drags his gaze slowly to your widened eyes, your lashes as they move almost imperceptibly upward. Taking him in as he inches closer. 

"You're so fucking pretty," he says. 

He leans in. He closes the gap. Eddie Munson takes the leap. 

Your hand comes quickly to his upper arm and you turn your face just enough to force his lips, his kiss landing a centimetre shy of your nose. 

He struggles to keep his eyes closed. His heart thrums like a blown amp. 

"You can't kiss me," you say. Eddie struggles to discern your tone. 

His nose presses to yours. Not desperately, but almost. "I can't?" he asks, throat thick with emotion, a stickying, cloying taffy. 

"I'll make you sick." 

He turns your face with his palm, lips hovering above yours, a hair's width. Close enough to feel their heat. 

"Can I trust you'll nurse me back to health, in the event that that happens?" Would you take care of me? His hands tremble where they're touching you. He's too scared to open his eyes. 

You don't answer. 

You cover his hands and the seconds stretch endlessly, a thousand moments of terror and pining and want suddenly flattened into one as you kiss him.

He exhales against you. His relief is a palpable, viscous thing as he pulls you in and his nose digs into yours. Lips soft as he'd imagined, as he'd known they'd be, you kiss back tentatively. Sweetly.

You're kissing him like he's something that needs a careful touch. 

Eddie screws his eyes shut tight enough to see stars, firecrackers, a shattering bouquet of colours as you move beneath him. He can't believe he's kissing you. He can't believe there was a time where he wasn't.

He yields, leaning back just enough to see your face. You keep your eyes shut, your eyelashes kissing the delicate skin beneath. They move like blades of grass in the breeze as Eddie tries to catch his breath, regaining some of his composure. It's hard while he's here, this close. 

You make a small sound, a breath like a barb. The shaky demarcation of tears. 

"Okay?" he asks, more movement than sound. His lips skip over your own. 

You have to feel it. 

A laugh bubbles up through your parted lips like a hiccup. "I'm definitely gonna make you sick," you mumble regretfully. 

"Make me sick, sweetheart," he says, begs. Whatever. 

Whatever word you want to use. He doesn't care if he pays for it afterwards, he wants to be close to you now, unapologetically close. And kissing you — kissing you like this, your reciprocation, it's everything because it means you feel the same as he does. 

Or a fraction the same. He's reassured either way. If you felt a fraction of what he felt, that's enough. 

It's a lot. To be touching you, finally. He grabs at the nape of your neck and kisses, kisses, kisses. He goes slowly, not quite sweetly. He's never been as sweet as you have, never as soft or patient.

It doesn't feel like it matters. 

You pull his hands from your face, press his and your own, all four hands to the collar of your shirt. 

"It wasn't just a, uh, pick up line, was it?" you ask breathlessly. 

"Wh- No." Eddie massages the back of your hands. "No, you're the fucking prettiest girl ever. I think you're aces. Killer. Everything." 

"Everything," you say, an almost indecipherable glassiness to your eyes. 

"Everything," he says. He spreads his hand over your heart. 

You don't throw yourself at him, but you move alarmingly quickly. Arms over his shoulders, hands crossed and buried in his hair. Your laugh is magic, a bright and exuberant sound loud in his ear and then the skin underneath. He's barely got an arm around the small of your back when you start to kiss him, repetitive, chaste pecks over his pulse. It capers under your lips. 

"I don't know what kind of girl you think I am-" He begins deadpan and breaks abruptly, your second wave of laughter impossible to ignore. 

Your arms tighten at his laughing, palm cupping the back of his head. 

"You're my best friend, too," he says. "But you knew that." 

"Maybe," you murmur, your smile wide against his skin. You're uncharacteristically mischievous. 

He lets his back bend under your weight until your heels lift and you're scrabbling to stay on your own two feet and is rewarded by your shrieking laughter. 

Oh, god, he thinks, ecstatic. 

"Wait," you say, bargaining for freedom as he squeezes you hard enough to make you laugh again, and again, "wait, wait! Wait, let go. I have something to tell you." 

Eddie sets you down. He's reluctant to let you go, almost desperate to hug you now that he knows he can, but his curiosity gets the better of him. What could you have to tell him now that isn't confessional? It's like being promised something good. 

You stand sure and sweet in front of him.

"It's…" You look shyly at his lips. 

"What?" 

"I…" 

He shakes his head gently from side to side. "What? Tell me." 

"Nothing," you say, beaming. Act dropped, you take his face into both hands and kiss him soundly. 

Eddie's barely got his hands on you before you're pulling back. 

"Just wanted to do that," you say. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | this fic is multi-chapter 

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

[bluesidez]

Firefighter!Miguel Part 3

content warning: fluff, some mentions of Christianity because a lot of southern grandmothers are Christian (it shouldn't be anything that makes non-Christians uncomfy)

word count: 1.5k, not proofread

Prev | Next ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓐐𓎩 ‧₊˚ ⋅𓌉◯𓇋 Masterlist

Firefighter!Miguel who listens with a skeptical face as the trio of teenagers in front of him explain how their car ended up upside down in a lake.

“We saw a squirrel and we couldn’t just hit it, that’s inhumane!”

“So, you roll your car down a ramp instead?”

The trio stare at him with building panic.

“There’s not a single scratch or bruise on any of you.”

It takes about ten seconds of empty space before one of them crumbles to the ground in faux pain.

“I-I can still feel the sunroof on my head!”

“And you’re grabbing your stomach to show that."

The three of them stared at each other for a second, then one of them starts to cry, "We didn't mean it!"

"We're sorry!"

"I told them to just drive over a bump, they didn't listen!"

They started to crowd Miguel, each telling a different story. Miguel didn't believe a single one of them but their dedication to this bit was admirable.

"Ok. Let's get your parents on the phone," Miguel's voice demanded attention. "The totaled car is enough of a lesson, but I'm sure none of your names are on this vehicle."

The boy in the middle curses and runs his hand through his hair, "My dad's going to kill me."

"I would hope they'd be more happy that you're alive," Jess came up next to Miguel with a helmet under her arm. Her slicked-back hair has started to frizz up from the sheer amount of work it took to get a car full of water back on the ground. "If you all didn't think fast enough, there's no guarantee that we would have made it here in time to rescue you."

Firefighter!Miguel who tried his best to calm down the worried parents.

Yes, their children were ok. No, no one was hurt. Yes, with the right insurance totaled cars can be covered. No, he's not sure how the car ended up upside down. Yes, firefighters do these rescues regularly.

No, he was not giving out his number.

"What did I say about that face?" Jess sang as she sat in the passenger seat of the truck.

"Just because you say it, doesn't mean I want it to happen."

"Maybe you should get a ring. That poor mother looked so hurt when you rejected her."

"A ring doesn't stop wandering eyes or hands," Miguel gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Jess sighs, "True. That's not stopping you from staring at your phone like a sad seal while we're waiting on calls."

Miguel tried his best not to let his shoulders slump. He was a captain, not one of those reckless teenagers, "You think I did something wrong? It's been a few days."

"Maybe they think you're busy? Maybe they're nervous. Maybe they're busy. I'm sure you'll get a text soon."

Firefighter!Miguel who jolts from his sleepy daze at every notification from his phone. The 24-hour shifts can be grueling.

One glance at his phone showed some magazine emails and the reminder of a show he was excited to see.

Firefighter!Miguel who finally gets your text message on the way to his car.

You wanted to take him up on the offer of stopping by your house to check out the gas line.

His sleepy state gained a new jolt of energy and he was able to utilize it to tap along to the radio all the way home.

"When you add this, he'll never even think about finding someone else."

"Is that so?" You laughed as you listened to your grandma explain her secrets of keeping a man. Even if you found it a little funny, borderline ridiculous, and extremely outdated, you knew she was dead serious. "And how do you get the man?"

Your grandma paused and smiled, "Are you sure you're ready to hear that?"

"If you're laying out all of your secrets, I might as well!"

Your conversation was interrupted by a knock and the ring of a doorbell.

"Well, looka here!"

You can hear the glee in your grandmother's voice as she opens the door.

"Look what the Lord brought me," she comes back to the kitchen with her arm wrapped around Miguel's arm. She's smiling brighter than ever. "And he had enough sense to bring back my good dish. Won't He do it?"

"Of course, I had to bring it back. How else could I thank you both and ask for some more at the same time?"

Miguel looked funny in your childhood home. A little out of place. Though when he opened his mouth it was like everything seemed right. He looked even funnier out of uniform. The joggers were doing something for you.

"You ready?"

You blinked a couple of times, coming back to Earth and steadying your wandering mind.

"Ready for...?"

"My poor child," your grandma grumbled to herself. "He came to go check on the house. Remember?"

"Oh! Yes, yes. Of course! Let's go."

As you made your way to the door, your grandma made sure to pull you back.

"And remember what I told you, ok? You just need a dash of it."

"Grandma there won't be any cooking until I get my gas line fixed."

"I don't mean the cooking, child, I mean the-"

You coughed loudly to cover her growing voice. The older she got the more her brain-to-mouth filter faded away.

"I got it, grandma."

You were sure she was going to say something about a bedroom technique, but Miguel was probably standing closer to you both than your grandma thought.

He didn't need to know whatever your grandma was trying to say.

Firefighter!Miguel who was happy to have someone that truly piqued his interest after so long.

Some of his hookups were either growing too attached or getting too ballsy, stepping over several boundaries. The last girl he dated was in it for all of the wrong reasons, and the woman before that sunk him so low he never knew he could bounce back.

He told himself he wouldn't try to date any of the people he saved, but life was growing longer and he wasn't getting any younger. Plus, you did look really lovely in your patterned pajama pants and flour in places they shouldn't be.

Something about your struck a match against him.

Firefighter!Miguel who walked into your house with a calmer state than the last.

There was a blue tarp plastered over the hole in your home and some debris left over from the accident.

"Sorry for the mess," your voice was quiet enough that he had to hone in on it.

"I've seen worse."

You look back at him with shock then laugh when you see the silly grin on his face.

He walked deeper into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, "It's not too terrible. I actually went ahead and called the gas company because something like this needs to be solved immediately."

Your eyebrows raise, "So is it already fixed then?"

"Took them about a day, but yeah. Now we just need to focus on getting the rest of this worked out."

"Thank you, truly," you smile up at him as you shift your weight. "Well, I guess I should do something else then, huh? I don't want to waste too much more of your time.

He was off work. "I don't mind. Glad to help in any way I can."

"Do you know how long the repairs might take?"

Miguel clicks his teeth repeatedly, "From about a week to a couple of months. From what I see, you should probably grab a few weeks of clothes."

"Roger that, Captain," you salute him as you turn to go to your room.

Miguel quelled the tiny spark that those words brought to him.

Firefighter!Miguel who watches you kick something out of the way when you enter your room.

He caught a flash of purple as you turned the lights on, but whatever it was under your bed in one swift motion.

Firefighter!Miguel who leans against the doorway as you bend deep to pull out more clothes.

Why you didn't grab things that were already on hangers, he wasn't sure, but he wasn't upset at the view at all.

Firefighter!Miguel who wanted to see you again, so he invited you to the annual charity car wash that his unit gave.

"We wash cars for a decent price, sell some goodies, and we take some pictures for the firefighter calendar."

He saw your eyes light up at those words, "I think I would love to see that."

"And I would love to have you there."

"Would you, now? Should I invite more people?"

"Yeah, for charity. I think I'm mostly going to be happy to see you."

Miguel picked a bin full of your clothes up and walked them through the door to his car, not really ready to process whatever look you might have on your face.

He may have nearly slammed his hand into the door with how fast he was moving, but he hopes that he can see you again soon.

divider by: @gigittamic + @/benkeibear (Idk if you'll see this, but I hope you're doing alright!!!) ❤️‍🔥

a/n: It's so late and I definitely have work tomorrow but here I am because I have no self control.

If you want to be added to the taglist, sign up here!

taglist: @snails-doodles22 @xerorizz @questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003

@slushycoookie @calig0sto @ghost-lantern @tatatida @haveclayeveryday

@corpsenightmarebride @samjinxx @earth2fae @maiyart @feegrh32 @jellyamour

@darkstalight82 @ladysimp @vampwin @vmpz8sauceee @sonicbutbutter

@leonsbimbogf @unwrittenletter @maxlinpetersen @beyondstarlight @madeofstar-dust

@leoeloo @just-simpins-blog @poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhidedout

@aly29a2001 @snakelore @tojishugetiddies @pigeonmama @darkstalight82

@prettygirleli @koikohib @jayskookies

[kaidatheghostdragon]

You know what mixture of AUs i havent seen here yet? Danny x Bruce with de-aged clones!

Bruce and danny are near the same age and meet pretty early in batman's career, maybe even before dick was adopted. Danny is a single dad of infant/toddler twins ellie and dante. (To make them young and at the same age, i imagine they were rescued after both taking serious damage and retreated to their cores, and remerged as newborns about the same time, but i also want to leave this open for others to flesh out.) Timeline-wise, that would probably make them somewhere around jason or tim's age.

So now we have an au where the bat kids are collected into a stable home where bruce and danny are also raising ellie and dante. Bruce is much closer to WFA characterization right from the get-go because danny would whip him into shape.

Tim probably gets adopted because one of the phantoms sniff him out, either living alone in the neighboring mansion, or following the bats and ghosts on patrol.

Talia either stole bruce's (and/or danny's) dna or drugged bruce (it didnt work on danny) to create damian. If bruce was drugged, danny is on a warpath and might even find and rescue damian at a much younger age.

Jason's timeline is the most difficult to predict, and i will forever simp halfa jason, so he's gotta die no matter what changes. I dont think that's terribly difficult because the joker specifically targeted him to lure him out (assuming i understand canon correctly - also this is definitely true in the UtRH animated movie canon). If jason isnt interested in finding his biomom in this au, joker will just find a different bait. Would be cool if danny is able to track down jason's ghost during the six-month down time and brings him home, and a potential point of angst if he revives without his memories as a ghost (and is lost for a while before danny tracks him down again.)

(Danny probably doesn't have the no-killing rule like bruce, so he'd have no qualms killing the joker and detaining/destroying his ghost. If not danny, then jazz would. Bruce conveniently looks the other way.)

Batman mythology in this universe is inexorably linked to phantom mythology. They both help each other out with vigilante stuff. Danny's team (sam/tucker/val/jazz) visit often and are considered aunts/uncle to the batkids. Batfam is highly liminal because they are part of danny's fraid. They might even develop liminal powers, if that's your kind of headcanon.

Danny may or may not be ghost king, but i like the idea that he's the crown prince and wont be coronated for several more decades. He's got time and all the resources that position affords him. Danny still gets hounded by the observants, but the batkids have made a game of pranking the annoying eyeballs.

Danny is a founding member of the justice league and of jld (the rest of his team might be as well). Batman is much more knowledgeable of the supernatural because of danny. I like the idea of constantine being more terrified of phantom than batman. He still gets called on for advice because he's the demonology and magic expert, while danny specializes more in ghosts and Realms technology.

Ellie and dante are not allowed to join the vigilante scene until they turn 12 (they managed to argue it down from 14), but because of their powers (and potentially retaining memories and experience) there are numerous occasions before then that they functioned as a sort of vigilante retrevial unit - zooming out and retrieving anyone who was injured or otherwise hit their emergency beacon and bringing them straight back to the cave. They might have even done this once or twice during justice league emergencies.

I'll leave their vigilante identities open to discussion, but im partial toward a really old drawing i remember seeing here on tumblr, someone designed a pink batsuit for ellie with exaggerated bat ears, and a sort of glider cloak that attached to her belt or her wrists to disguise her flight as gliding. (If someone knows the post im talking about, please leave a link so the artist can be credited!)

As for danny's old team...

Jazz works at arkham, helping to reform the place and causing many of batman's rogues to reform a bit earlier. She is the expert called in by the justice league to formulate ways to both detain and to help various rogues globally. She especially likes the flash because of the friendly attitude he has towards his own rogues.

Sam is a humanitarian. If she has plant powers, she's using them to establish food stability in poorer nations, helping the people there become more self-sustaining, as well as providing relief for disaster-stricken areas whose farms need to be completely rebuilt and regrown. Jazz introduces her to poison ivy, and the two end up joined at the hip, helping to reform ivy much earlier. (Would it be weird to make this au have sam x ivy and jazz x harley?)

Valerie probably stays in Amity Park to be its designated hero since danny moved out. If the fentons are good, she works alongside them as the fentons also develop tech for the justice league. If they arent, im gonna assume theyre the reason dante and ellie got de-aged, danny absconded with their cores to keep them safe, and the rest of team phantom descended on the fenton parents like hungry wolves. When the dust settled, valerie and her dad were left in charge of protecting amity and with ownership of fentonworks.

Tucker is a freelance hacker slash tech expert, and will kit out any vigilante's tech and security free of charge. His unique blend of magitech is very difficult to counter, making it all-the-more sought after. He probably helped set oracle up and maybe even trained/mentored barb to some extent.

There are lots of other potential changes, but ill stop here.

[somewhereincairparavel]

just thinking about how Jason grace had his entire life molded from the day he was born, nothing in his life was authentic, even his own name was an offering to appease a goddess.

he also died being so distant from everyone he knew (don't get me wrong, I know he was friends with the 7, but If I'm being realistic here and go by canon, only Leo and Nico were actually "close" with Jason, and maybe Percy a bit) I mean, Annabeth took a long time to warm up to Jason and didn't trust him, Hazel never quite forgave jason for mistrusting nico (I'm still a lil bitter about this one lol bc she easily forgave Leo simply bc he's Sammy's great grandkid, and Leo's kinda the one who initiated the suspicion in the first place yet she got so mad at Jason for simply laying out the arguments and exerting caution?? Yeah I know she was upset that her brother was in danger but she never even gave Jason a chance even after nicos rescue, I'm not tryna blame Leo or anything but I think they BOTH should've been forgiven equally, esp since Jason's encouragement in house of hades fuelled nico to break out of his shell), Frank saw of Jason as more of a hero and looked up to him (still avenged his death tho so big W), Piper dumped him and canonically was outwardly bitchy/a little hostile to him after the breakup.

EVEN coach hedge and mellie were such jerks to him bc they assumed HE dumped Piper. Still wished Piper made it clear to them that the break up wasn't Jason's fault but ofc she didnt. TOA Piper is such an L

He never saw Leo again and never got to spend the summer with Nico in camp half blood like he planned to. His dad is a jackass and didn't shed a single tear at his death, his sister had her own life and he felt like she didn't need him anymore.

Reyna, Jason's childhood friend grew distant from him bc of her romantic feelings + the whole Venus mess (which is no fault of her's tho, mind you)

He never felt "at home" in camp Jupiter even after he got his memory back because all he did over there was military duties.

I don't think he got his full memory back properly either because, Percy had the gorgons blood but he didn't. I'm speculating this because he still felt very disconnected to Camp Jupiter and Rome.

He never got to do what he wanted, and even if he succeeded in defeating Caligula, jason STILL never would've gotten freedom, since he promised the minor gods that he'd build temples on their behalfs, and was Prontifex Maximus. He made a diorama and everything.

His Greek friends never made it to his funeral. They never got to say goodbye.

and as Apollo noted, he died with his fingers pointing, like he was still telling them all to escape without him. His chest was spewing out blood and jason still plucked up the energy to tell tempest to get Apollo and Piper to safety.

Jason Grace was born a Roman soldier, and died a Roman soldier, full circle. He never became a grandpa to his and piper's grandchildren like he wanted to.

[lyjen]

Mistake

Summary: (Y/n) has been feeling not too well, she’s 18 weeks pregnant but still suffers from nausea. When they’re on shift they somehow get into a hostage situation and they use (y/n)’s nausea as a distraction.

9-1-1 masterlist

________

Evan opened his eyes and he turned onto his side, reaching out beside him. His arm searched for her warm body. When he found his wife, he pulled her closer to his body.

Evan plants a kiss on her shoulder, and continues kissing her until he reaches the crook of her neck. She groans at his touch, and lets her hand go through his curls.

“Goodmorning” she whispered as she kissed his temple. He mumbled a goodmorning back, barely audible because he was still merged into her skin.

“How are you feeling today?” Evan asked, while he removed his face from the crook of her neck.

Since last week (y/n) has been feeling nauseous, she is now 18 weeks pregnant, morning sickness could still happen at this time into pregnancy. So they had nothing to worry about, right?

“I’m fine, better than I felt yesterday” she answered. The day before she spent most of the time hanging with her face above the toilet. But this was actually the first night she was able to sleep through, without getting out of bed to go and throw everything she ate or drank back out.

“Are you sure you’re good to work this afternoon?” He asked while (y/n) turned around in his arms. Without any hesitation she nodded, and placed her hand on his chest. “You know Bobby would understand if you explained, right?”

Evan was worried (y/n) would do more than she could take. She was stubborn, but she knew her limits.

He let his hand slide down and rest on her stomach. “You want to talk to baby Buckley?” She smiled, she knew exactly what Evan wanted. Since they found out she is pregnant, Evan started talking to her belly, every single day. It was now a standard procedure, it didn’t matter to him if it was six in the morning or two at night. He had to talk to baby Buckley.

His hand rubbed up and down over her belly as she turned to lay on her back and sit up, so Evan’s face was in one line with her belly.

“Hello in there” he smiled as he looked up at his wife. Her hand was still stroking through his curly morning hair.

“This is your dad speaking” he softly let his hand rub over her stomach.

“I just wanted to say, be kind to your mom. Don't step on her intestines, mommy has to work and can’t feel sick.” he spoke as he pointed at her belly as a warning sign.

(Y/n) smiled as he pressed a soft kiss to her stomach. “I love you very, very much, but please stop making mommy so sick”

He pressed one last long kiss on her stomach as he pushed himself to the end of the bed. (Y/n) let out a squeal as Evan stood up, put his hands on her legs and pulled her towards him.

Evan let her legs dangle on the end of the bed as he took place between her legs. He put a strand of her morning hair behind her ear as he let both of his hands rest on her cheeks. He pressed a kiss on her lips.

“You would tell me if you weren’t feeling well, right?” He wanted her to know that it was okay to call in sick for a day.

She nodded. “Yes, I would.. But I’m fine, I swear.” her eyes connected with her husband's eyes.

She loved being a firefighter. Just like Eddie, she also could help on the ambulance whenever they needed her to. But her heart belonged to being on truck.

(Y/n) has been put on light duties, and whenever she couldn’t help with rescuing people from buildings or other heavy work, she would help Hen and Chimney out with the ambulance. Some calls she had to sit out, waiting back at the station while the rest of the team had all the fun.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid today during shift.” she spoke softly as she looked at her husband. Evan chuckled. “You know how I am. I can’t promise that.”

She playfully pushed his shoulder, so he almost lost his balance. "Okay! okay! I will try and think before I act.”

“That’s better”

A smile appeared on Evan’s face.“You know what would be even better?” She raised a brow at his words, not knowing his plan. But she knew this look he was giving her..

She felt him come closer, he kissed her once more, and he pushed her back into the mattress with his body. He hovered over her body, she felt his warm breath all over body, leaving goosebumps wherever his breath connected with her skin..

______

“You really shouldn’t be doing that..” Eddie spoke up as he was walking past the truck with (y/n)’s legs sticking out.

A sigh left (y/n)’s mouth when she pushed herself with her legs, from underneath the truck on the roller board. She sat up as she clicked her spine into place. Her vision was blurry for a second, but when she blinked a few times, the blur in front of her eyes seemed to be gone.

“Don’t worry, I already fixed it.” she said as she stood up from the board and grabbed a cloth to wipe her dirty hands with. “You could’ve just asked one of us to do it.” Eddie said, trying to make eye contact with his colleague. “I’m pregnant Eddie, there's nothing wrong with my hands.” She said as she walked past him, pushing the dirty cloth into his chest.

“I’m just saying…” Eddie’s voice spoke up as she walked towards one of the benches in the station where her water bottle was.

”There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.” he continued his sentence as she chugged her water. As if she had run a marathon. (Y/n) gave a disgusted expression and grabbed her stomach as the water was trying to escape her mouth again.

She was basically living on some water and a cracker, she wasn’t hungry this morning and most of what she would eat would leave her body within minutes.

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows. “You okay?” He asked as she held her fist to her mouth and closed her eyes for a second.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” she said when she held out her hand as a stop sign. “(Y/n)..”

“Eddie, why don’t you put your nose in someone else’s business.” she held onto her water bottle as she wanted to make a beeline for the stairs.

“I assume that is the hormones talking” he mumbled as he just stayed right where he was.

“I swea-“ just as she wanted to shoot back at him, while pointing her finger at her protective team member, squealing tires and a gunshot rang through the street.

“What the hell was that?” Evan spoke as he jumped down the last two steps of the stairs.

As soon as Eddie heard the gunshots, he clicked on the button to close the garage door. But the door was on fifty percent of closing when a car drove through the garage door into the firehouse and stopped on the ambulance spot.

Hen and Chimney were out with the ambulance on a medical call while the rest of the team was trying to do some tasks inside.

Two guys stepped out of the vehicle, one of the men went to the backseat as he dragged out one more member, his chest fully covered in blood.

“Woah woah!” Evan called out when one of the two men pointed a gun at the three firefighters. (Y/n) took a quick glance behind her, to see if Evan was somewhere near her, seeing what was happening.

Evan’s stomach turned when he reached the lower ground of the firehouse. He was just enjoying his coffee in the loft, only to be interrupted by an arguing duo downstairs, gunshots and squealing tires.

His eyes wandered to his wife as he realized what was happening. Their eyes connected. She had an frightened expression projected all over her face.

The gun the man was pointing at Eddie and (y/n) switched every few seconds between the three firefighters. “Y’all know how to give first aid, right?” the man spoke as he pointed with his free hand to his injured friend.

Eddie tried to stay calm and nodded at his question while he had his hands up in the air. “Good. Then you can help my friend.” he spoke as he pointed the gun at Eddie and walked over to him. Eddie bit his lower lip, and simply gave the guy a dead stare.

“Are you gonna help my guy or what?” the man asked, closing distance between Eddie and him. “Why would we want to help someone who’s threatening us with a gun.” Evan spoke up, stone cold. The man scoffed at Evan’s reaction, and knocked the end of his gun on the side of the firefighter’s head.

A wave of pain went through Evan’s head as he received the ice cold gun to his skin. And his hand made its way to the painful spot. “Alright, let's see if you still won't help us if I did this..” The man grabbed (y/n)’s upper arm and pulled her towards him. A shiver rolled down (y/n)’s spine as she felt a cold metal resting on the side of her head.

“Hey! Don’t you fucking touch her!” Evan’s voice yelled through the massive open space of the 118 firehouse.

His arm was around her neck, pulled strongly around it so she had nowhere to go. She could feel the man laughing at the reaction he got from doing this. The second guy who was still with the injured man pointed his gun at Evan.

Her breath was shaking, she was terrified to take another breath. (y/n) didn’t want to believe what was happening right now. She felt like she was going to be sick. She tried to stay strong, to not show any weakness. But when she closed her eyes and squeezed them, a tear rolled over her cheek.

“Okay! okay! We will help you. But first, you got to let her go man..” Eddie tried to make a compromise. The man shook his head at first. “Look. She’s a paramedic. She can help your friend. But she can’t do that with a gun pointed at her head.” he tried to convince the man. Sure Eddie was also a paramedic. But they had to get (y/n) back to safety.

The man who was holding (y/n) still in his tight grip pushed the gun deeper into her skin, as he took a deep breath and breathed in her scent. He abruptly let go of the woman and he pushed her towards Eddie and Evan, who both catched (y/n).

_______

She was scared for her life and sweating like an otter as she wrapped the man's wounds. Her head was throbbing, and her vision was blurry as she secured the gauze on the man’s chest. It looked like she could see her own heartbeat through her eyes.

The injured man started to sound like he couldn’t breathe. “He’s developing a tension pneumothorax” (y/n) said as she ruffled through the medic bag searching for the equipment she needed to help the man. “Shit” she whispered under her breath as she sighed.

“(y/n) talk to me, what do you need?” Bobby’s voice spoke as he was sitting on a bench, with Evan and Eddie next to him at gunpoint. “I need a large bore needle. But I can't find it in the bag!” She says. “Stay calm okay, we have another medic bag in the truck.” Bobby tried to reassure her. “I need that needle if you want me to save your friend here” she spoke to the man who was also holding her at gunpoint while she was working on the man.

She wasn’t missing that needle in her bag. She wanted one of them to have the chance to radio dispatch or ambulance for help.

“You. Go get her that thingy” The gun pointed at Evan. His eyes shot up, in confusion. Unsure what was going on. They had restocked everything. They had enough needles in one bag. It looked like he had zoned out, while he watched his wife help this injured man while he held a gun to her head.

Evan slowly got onto his feet, and walked towards the truck. The gunmen couldn’t follow Evan to the truck, they were outnumbered. So they just hoped that he would return to them as fast as possible.

Evan sneaked to the front of the truck, and silently opened the driver's door. He grabbed the radio with his right hand as he silently pressed the side of the radio to talk.

“Dispatch this is truck one eighteen. I have a ten one hostage situation here. In need of emergency assistance.”

As soon as Evan disappeared between the trucks, (y/n) started to make loud sounds by digging through the medic bag. She hoped deep down that Evan would get her needle hint. And took the chance to radio dispatch.

The injured guy's breath was getting worse and worse by the minute. “What’s taking so long?” One of the guys called out as he started making its way towards the truck.

“I found it!” she yelled as she held the needle into the air, as if she had just won a price. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw Evan walking towards her with also a long bore needle in her hand. Evan jogged over, dropped the needle into her medic bag and gave her a wink.

He did it. He radioed someone. He called for help.

Her gloved hands opened the package of the needle. She squeezed her eyes and pushed the back of her hand to her forehead to try and get back her vision.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks when he sees (y/n) squeezing her eyes, trying to focus on the needle between her fingers. Sweat was dripping all over her forehead. She was pale, it looked like she could pass out any second.

“You want someone else to take over?” Eddie asked her. (Y/n) stayed silent, she didn’t give him an answer. His voice was dull, as if he was an echo inside of her head.

An angry voice filled the open space of the firehouse. “Hey! shut the fuck up!” he spoke as he pushed the gun to Eddie’s chest. Eddie stood up. “You really trust her to save your guy? Look at her! She’s practically about to faint!” he pointed at his colleague who was staring at the needle in her hand.

Her breathing became shallow and the world around her started to spin. She really tried to calm herself down, to make all the symptoms she felt, to leave her body.

“Do you really have time to make such a mistake?” Eddie says as he looks over to (y/n).

(Y/n)’s eyes started rolling to the back of her head as she completely lost the balance of her body. Gravity pushed her down to the ground and the needle fell out of her hands.

When both gunmen were looking at what was happening to the female firefighter, Bobby and Evan both pushed one guy to the ground as Eddie took over the other man.

“You got him?” Evan asked when Bobby pinned his knee onto the back of the man. He didn’t wait for an answer. He just ran to his wife, almost tripping over his own two feet, screaming her name as he rolled her onto her back.

Evan’s hand gently patted the side of her face. “Hey! Hey! (Y/n)!” he softly said as he continued patting the side of her face.

Her mouth left a groan, but her eyes stayed close. “Tell your child to stop bouncing on my intestines” she spoke weakly.

Evan smiled through his gasps and pulled his wife into his chest. His left hand rested on the back of her head, and his right arm was around her back. “Don’t you ever do this again.” he says as he plants a kiss on her hair.

The garage door opened, and filled the firehouse with blue siren lights and sounds.