#cass ficlets
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inspired by the recent events (think of a singer and football player) and ofc, inspired by the brilliant, @henderdads, who has graciously allowed me to make this into a whole thing. 👀
check out the original post!
*i don’t know ANYTHING about the NFL, so sorry for the obvious mistakes*
”What do you mean?” Steve looks up from tying his shoelaces, and stares at his agent.
“Harrington, how many times do I have to say this?” Robin smirks at him, “He’s here. He’s sitting with Mama Joyce.”
Steve’s 100% sure a wire short circuits in his brain. He blinks rapidly at her before asking once again.
“Eddie Munson?”
Robin hums, “Ahuh.”
“Like the 12 time Grammy winner, Eddie Munson, from Corroded Coffin?”
Robin slaps a hand on her forehead, “Yes, Steve! Eddie Munson is in the stadium right now. You’re the one who asked me to arrange his seats.”
Steve jumps from the wooden benches, “I didn’t think he would come!”
Robin crosses her arms, “First of all, you were the one who made that bracelet with your number on it—“
“I WAS DRUNK!”
Robin puts up a finger, “You weren’t drunk when you brought it to his concert and asked Lucas Sinclair to hand it to him. You also weren’t drunk when you announced it on a podcast, when it could’ve been a secret for all of us to keep. Second of all, you whined and annoyed me until I finally caved in, called his publicist to finally arrange the whole thing and the thanks I get is more whining?!”
Oh no. Steve stares at her, as all of the things she said finally sinks in. Oh no. Eddie Munson is in the crowd. He came. Steve asked and Eddie came. He’s gonna watch Steve Harrington play. Weirdly, he wonders if this is what Eddie feels when he’s about to play sold out arenas. Steve’s never felt nervous to play, the field is— well— his comfort place and not once has he had this sense of dread to play. Not even when he had to play the Super Bowl.
"I didn't think he'd come!" Steve panics.
“Uh-oh. No time for panic attacks. The game starts in about 15 minutes.”
“Oh my god.” Steve groans as she pushes him out of the locker rooms to the halls. There’s TVs in every corner, and one TV catches his attention.
There he is.
Eddie Munson’s sitting beside his adoptive mother and his siblings. Dear God. In what world is this real?
The commentator squeals in delight as he broadcasts, “Here’s one for the books, one that’s surely going to break the internet tonight. In the crowd tonight, we have the lead singer of best selling metal group, Eddie Munson. The rumors are apparently true! Harrington and Munson are definitely friends, maybe even more?”
Steve groans as Sinclair moves pass him, bumping shoulders. A huge smirk on his face, “I didn’t think you could do it, but I have to say, I am very proud of you.”
”Leave me alone.” He sulks as Lucas walks down the hall laughing his head off.
When Steve started talking to Eddie, he never really thought he’d end up here. Did he want something serious with Eddie? Well, yes. He’s been crushing on the man since he realized he was bisexual and Eddie was already the cover of the Seventeen magazine for nth time. But Eddie was a superstar singer who’s still on a world tour that has already sold billions, so no, Steve didn’t expect him to be here. He also knows that Eddie just got out of a pretty public break-up, so he didn’t expect anything but friendship. He just— shoot his shot and prayed to the Gods.
Steve thinks back to the conversation they had a few nights ago. A conversation only possible through the help of prayer and two shots of vodka.
“You wanna go out this Sunday?” Steve asks, trying his best to keep the nerves under the wraps.
“Isn’t that the day of the game?” Eddie speaks over the phone and Steve still can’t fathom the fact that he’s talking to Eddie Munson on a regular Wednesday night.
“Yeah, I mean. We can go out after the game.” Steve gulps, and he feels the need to take another shot.
”Huh.” Eddie hums, “Would that be a date, Harrington?”
“Yes.” Steve lightly bangs his head on the wall, “I mean, if you want it to be.” Steve covers his mouth to muffle the embarrassing sounds that comes out from him. What a wuss.
“Here, let’s play a fun little game. Let’s wait till Sunday.” Steve can hear the smirk in his voice, and god, Steve will have to look up the damn “Eddie Munson smirks for 10 minutes” compilation on Youtube again.
”What do you mean?”
“I’ll think about it. On Sunday, if I’m in the crowd then maybe we can get some dinner. If I’m not, then maybe next time.” There’s a playfulness in his voice that makes Steve want to tear his hair out.
Steve gnaws at his lips, that sounds easy enough, “Okay. That sounds… easy.”
Eddie laughs. It’s music to Steve’s ears and he feels pathetic, “Not so easy, big boy. If I’m there, you have to get a touchdown and then it’s a date. If not, then we hang out with your siblings. They’re pretty cool.”
Steve stares at the wall in his room, there’s maybe 50% chance he’ll get a touchdown. He could talk to Sinclair and McKinney to get him the ball. He could do it. It’s just another touchdown. He’s done—what?— like 50 touchdowns in his life.
”Okay.” Steve gulps, “Let’s do it.”
“HARRINGTON!” Steve blinks back to the present, lifting his eyes away from the picture of Eddie Munson wearing the red windbreaker representing his team.
Hopper’s calling him over, a smirk clear on his face. Why is everyone fucking smirking at him? “I see you’re distracted. I hope this doesn’t cripple your ability to play.”
”Hop!” Steve groans, only for his coach to laugh and pat him in the back.
“Go on! Line up!” Hop smiles, winking at him, “Good luck out there.”
Steve puts on his helmet, before taking a few deep breathes.
He just needs a touchdown. One touchdown.
Steve smiles.
He’d do anything for Eddie Munson.
A touchdown is nothing.
#okay so again i dont know anything about nfl and football#i will write more after i finish this three hour long video about football#thank you cass for allowing me to write this#i love you from the bottom of my heart#this are the only worms i have right now#steddie#dae writes#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steddie rants#steddie headcanon#daeheadcanons#steddie famous au#steddie fanfic
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Some sick!Steddie headcanons.
Steve never lets anyone knows he's sick until he's dead on his feet and way sicker than he would've been if he just rested a day.
Steve actually never used to get sick before becoming a pseudo mom to the party but now when one of them gets sick he's on call for soup and tea and always catches what they get.
Eddie actually has a great immune system. Years of running around in the woods behind the trailer park and touching everything within reach means he's exposed himself to plenty of germs. However in the winter he hates wearing heavy coats, claiming they jack his style but really they give him sensory issues, Steve thinks he is allergic to wool.
So Eddie inevitably gets sick and when Eddie gets sick he goes down hard. He's also a big baby about it, playing it up to get extra attention from Steve as if Steve doesn't enjoy being a little nurse doting on Eddie.
Eddie jokes that Steve should go to school for nursing, Steve laughs but later he thinks about it, maybe it would be good for him. He gets into a program at the community college and throws all of his energy into study and work to pay for it.
He's so run down that he eventually gets sick from exhaustion. Eddie doesn't mind though. He thinks Steve is cute even with a sweaty forehead and a red nose. So he calls for help.
Dustin brings soup from his mom.
Max brings her walkman.
Mike and Will bring their comics.
Lucas tells Steve all about the game he missed while he slept.
El brushes his hair softly.
Nancy makes him tea.
Robin brings him his favourite movies.
Joyce cooks him dinner.
Hopper gets him medicine.
Argyle brings some pizza when he's feeling a bit better.
Jonathan takes over driving duties from him.
And Eddie.
Eddie sings him softly to sleep every night until he's better.
#stranger things#steve harrington#stranger things s4#eddie munson#st4#steddie#sick fic#ficlet#steddie ficlet#stranger things season 4#the party#the fruity four#the spicy six#for Cass hope you feel better soon
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An Excerpt from my TMA Au
Ft. Archivist! Dick, Spiral! Jason and Steph, and Stranger/Beholding Cass! TW for broken bones and horror themes, canon typical esoterica @perseus-jackass thought you'd like this!
"WHAT IS GOING ON!" Dick trips through the winding halls of the Head Institute, skidding to a halt in front the heap of limbs sprawled on the ground, bent in weird positions even by his standards.
Jason wriggles around on rubbery bones while Steph laughs at him, hanging upside down from her trapdoor in the ceiling.
"Humans are so...fleshy." he complains. "They break too easily." He wriggles his awkwardly bent limbs, and Dick can hear the broken bones grinding together under the skin. He tried to breathe through the nausea.
"Are you...okay?" It's a nasty break, multiple even, but Jason doesn't seem pained, and he's still not-human enough that his patron might lend a hand.
Cass, whose crouched oddly on top of a nearby table stares with wide unblinking eyes, studying the state of him. "Looks fine." The canned audio of the radio she's using as voice box crackles and cuts abruptly.
That's not reassuring, Cass's limbs look like a poly-jointed dolls on the best of days. "Steph, can you, um, help with this?" He looks to the blonde whose moved onto positioning Jason's limbs into increasingly strange positions.
"Why would I do that?" She seems occupied trying to...spell Jason's name with his limbs? What the fuck.
He doesn't get paid enough for this. Actually now that he thinks about it, Ra's doesn't pay him at all these days. No point paying an employee who can't quit and already lives with you.
#dc#tma au#jason todd#dick grayson#stephanie brown#Cassandra Cain#Spiral! Jason#Spiral! Steph#Archivist! Dick#Stranger/Beholding! Cass#fic excerpt#my fic#my writing#idk when I'll do a full fic but I have a shit ton of ficlets to post#The Head Archives
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Dreamgirl by @tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones
Pairing: Sarah Wilson & Bucky Barnes and Cass & AJ Wilson | Rated: G | Words: 300-ish
* * * * * * * * * *
Summary: Much to Cass and AJ’s (and of course, Bucky’s) delight, Sarah is dolled-up for a special event she and Bucky are attending. Before they leave home, he grabs Cass’s camera to get some pictures. Hopefully, one will end up in his wallet. Yes, he has a cellphone with a camera and a Camera Roll, but he’s admittedly old-fashioned enough to want to carry a photograph of his intanda in his wallet.
Sarah reminds the boys of the Dreamgirls, from one of their mom’s favorite movies.
Shenanigans ensue, and they learn something new about Bucky and Dora Milaje General Okoye.
* * * * *
“Are you done messing around with Cass’ camera? We still have to drop the boys off at Aisha’s.”
“This is the last one, nandi. I swear.”
“Baby, we’re going to be late, and you know how Sam gets with his ‘you’re either early, or—“
“—you’re late!!” Bucky, Cass and AJ all finish the sentence in unison, each in their own imitation of Sam.
“Stop playin’,” Sarah laughs, “and take the picture before you drop the camera!”
“Can’t help it. You’re stunning. ‘m I right, fellas?”
“Yeah! You’re stunning, Mama!” Cass declares, pushing his glasses up and grinning.
“Yeah! You look like one of the Dreamgirls in that movie you watch and lip sync all the songs with!” AJ nods in agreement with his big brother.
Bucky looks at Sarah, eyebrows raised, and a delighted grin spreads across his face because he’s watched Lip Sync Battle with Sarah.
“Really! Lip sync, you say. All the songs?”
“ALL of them,” Cass confirms. “You should see her, Uncle Bucky. Especially that one song where one of the Dreamgirls gets fired by her boyfriend and she says—“
“AAAAAAAAND I am telling you…” both boys strike dramatic poses, Cass clutching his chest, AJ throwing his head back, closing his eyes and joining in. “I’m not going!!”
Bucky joins in with them on “No-no-no no way!”
“Uncle Bucky! You know this song?” AJ asks, eyes wide with amazement.
“Well, don’t tell her I said anything, but, General Okoye absolutely loves Dreamgirls. She played the Broadway cast version on the way to and from a mission with the Dora.”
“Alright you guys. Uncle Bucky’ll tell you about General Okoye and the Dreamgirls later. Grab your backpacks and let’s go, or we won’t just be late. We’ll be—“
“Late-late. Got it, sweetness. But, wait right there. Hold on. Don’t move. Just one more, Dream Girl.”
#sarah wilson#bucky barnes#sarahbucky#buckysarah#sarah x bucky#bucky x sarah#sarah wilson x bucky barnes#bucky barnes x sarah wilson#cass & aj wikson#buckysarah fanfiction#fleur de louve#fleurdelouve#fanfiction#ficlet
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Randomized One Word Prompt: Strike
“Listen, you don’t want to do this.” Sam tried to talk down the blue-haired girl. He hovered in mid-air, edging closer to her.
“You stay back!” Cursed Cass screamed, jumping away from him. Her hand tightened around the detonator of the bomb strapped to her. All of the Champions backed off immediately.
Might laughed loudly from the sidelines, “You’re gonna let her win, just like that? Cowards.”
“We’re in a crowded metropolitan area.” Amadeus warned, “There are innocent people who will die if you do that. Please, just let this go, and put down the bomb.”
All around them, people were starting to gather at what they imagined to be a safe distance, whispering to each other and pulling out phones to film the altercation. Kamala shifted uneasily, the weight of the world’s gaze on her shoulders. The Freelancers had a way of operating that always ended up with the Champions coming out of it looking like assholes.
And it pissed her off to no end.
The other Freelancers didn’t look the least bit concerned, because of course they didn’t. They had been flown here from California. They didn’t have to commute to work and school. They didn’t rely on the trains to keep running. They wouldn’t be affected at all when this place was thrown into disarray.
“Come on, Cass! Finish the job so we can head back home!” Hotness yelled.
“We’ll stop you. But we don’t want it to come to that.” Miles told them carefully. He was bluffing. These guys had them up against the wall and everyone knew it.
While Cass had a detonator for the bombs on her body, the whole thing was actually just a trigger for the bigger explosion rigged around the bridge. Viv was working hard to secretly disconnect the contraption so that the worst of the damage didn’t happen, but until then, they had to stall. No matter what. Even if she just really, really, really wanted to bash their faces in.
“Do it, do it, do it…” Panic began to lead the chant, and the other Freelancers followed along, gleeful for bloodshed.
A vein pulsed in her temple. And Kamala stopped reasoning with them.
Her fist launched forward at a speed which she normally couldn’t reach, knocking the detonator out of Cass’s hands, and expanding her fist to throw Cass to the ground.
One fell swing to the side, and the other Freelancers were ploughed over too.
She was seeing red. Wanted to bash their heads in and bring them to justice. But she couldn’t. She had made a vow, and she had to stand by it.
So, Kamala glowered at them, and let that single strike speak for itself. The others were stunned for a few moments, before rushing to apprehend Might and Cass, the only ones still conscious after the attack.
“Sheesh, didn’t expect her to Hulk out, of all people.” Amadeus shuddered, “That was terrifying as fuck.”
“What about the plan?” Scott asked, looking between Kamala and Viv, who materialized in front of them.
“Fuck the plan.” Kamala growled, biting back the urge to scream like a child, “I hate these guys.”
[A/N: Might make a series out of this. Like, 500 word snippets based on randomly generated words]
#kamala khan#marvel champions#champions marvel#viv vision#fanfiction#sam alexander#amadeus cho#ms marvel#nova#totally awesome hulk#the freelancers#cursed cass#tw domestic terrorism#like... fiction. but just in case#ibis ficlets
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Ceilings Ficlet
TW: sad ending, but nobody dies. Canon adjacent.
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The ceiling is flaking overhead. There’s a seam in the paneling that’s ripped and the papery corner is curling back as Eddie stares idly, zoning out while the rain beats down on the theater parking lot. Steve shivers beside him, rubbing his hands together before tucking them under his arms with a huff. Eddie catches sight of it; little puff of warm air like dragon smoke. He smiles to himself, imagines that warm breath on his face.
They’re nestled under the marquee, but the storm has picked up in the last 10 minutes and they’re both definitely soaked through. Eddie’s sneakers squish as he wiggles his toes, trying to keep the circulation going.
“How long did she say she’d be again?” He sniffs, keeping his gaze on the ceiling.
“15 minutes… 20 minutes ago.” Steve groans, so unimpressed and petulant and Eddie can’t help but smirk at that. He’s so cute when he’s annoyed; Eddie could just bite him.
“What did you say when you convinced me to let you drive? Something about my van being an ‘unreliable hunk of junk’? Did I quote that right?” he teases, twinkling as he spies Steve bristling in defense.
“There’s nothing wrong with my car!” Steve argues. “I just… lockedthekeysinitbyaccident,”he murmurs under his breath.
“Sorry, come again? Did you just say something about keys? Didn’t quite catch that.” Eddie taps his ear and leans close, mock-serious. Steve just rolls his eyes and sighs, more puffs of dragon’s breath and Eddie sways instinctively closer before catching himself. He shoves Steve with his shoulder to recover the moment and angles back with a laugh as Steve shoves back.
They haven’t talked about it, this thing between them. But Eddie feels it all the time, like he’s constantly being pulled into Steve’s orbit and can’t bear to try and resist it. It doesn’t really help when Steve does something like take him out to the movies, frequently. It almost feels like an actual date if Eddie thinks about it too hard. But it’s obviously not and he tries his best to keep things in perspective. Steve is just his friend; his really good friend. His really good, unusually close, adorably lame, impossibly sweet, totally hot, definitely straight friend.
As they wait, they slowly start to curl closer toward each other against the rain. It’s cozy all things considered; sharing warmth and the last of the theatre candy between them, knocking knees and shoulders and elbows like it’s natural. Like they’re alone in their own little space and touching is just an essential part of existing in it.
They’re just friends, but if Eddie pushes the bounds of that friendship a little at times, Steve doesn’t seem to mind. It’s just harmless flirting and a little light touching. It doesn’t mean anything to anyone but Eddie anyway. His own secret. His crush.
Nancy finally does arrive, apologizing rapidly but giving vague excuses as she fishes out the tools necessary to unlock Steve’s car door. Eddie makes quick work of the ordeal and then they’re waving goodbye to her and squelching into their seats for a sopping drive back to Eddie’s trailer. They pull up sometime later and Eddie reaches for the door to haul himself out before Steve’s hand finds his sleeve to pause him.
“What’s up, buttercup?” Eddie grins, turning back to Steve with a quirk of his brow.
“I just wanted to say I had a really nice time tonight.” Steve flushes slightly but his tone is even, gaze intense and smile creeping at the corner of his pretty mouth.
Eddie flushes too at what clearly sounds like a line. He chuckles, nervous energy bubbling to the surface that he tries not to encourage. “Even with the torrential downpour that ruined your perfect coif and the locked keys situation and the fact I ate all the Red Vines?” He reaches up, can’t help himself, and peels a strand of wet hair off Steve’s forehead, brushing it away with his thumb. He lingers for just a second and Steve moves to catch his hand as he pulls away, holding it in his own. Eddie freezes.
Steve giggles, bright and sincere, “Yeah, Ed, even with all that. I really had fun and…” He pauses, swirling his thumb into the pad of Eddie’s palm, looks down a moment before locking eyes again, smile spreading fully. “I wanted to tell you that I like spending time with you like this. Just us.”
Eddie’s breath catches and his brows shoot up to his hairline. “Like how?” he asks cautiously, trying to keep his voice from cracking.
“Just doing this, going out.” Steve squeezes his hand lightly and laces their fingers together. Eddie's mind is swirling as he absorbs the words ‘going out’ and narrows in on the sensation of his fingers intertwined with Steve’s. “And I’d like to go out again. On a date next time.”
Eddie inhales sharply. He’s started shaking as Steve says this and it’s like everything goes silent but for a distant echo of thunder in his ears. “On a… on a date?” He breathes the words in almost a whisper, awestruck that this moment is happening.
“Yeah, on a date. Is that okay with you?” Steve whispers back, a hint of anxiety finally creeping into his voice.
Eddie cackles suddenly, shrill and manic and overwhelmed with joy. “Is that okay?! Fuck, Steve, yeah… yeah that’s really god damn okay with me. I can’t believe fucking Steve Harrington just- you just asked me that! Jesus Christ!”
Steve laughs softer, flirty tone seeping in to replace the nerves, moves his hand to cradle Eddie’s cheek tenderly. “Wild, I know. But what can I say? You’re kind of irresistible, Eddie.” He leans forward then, gaze seeking a silent permission as his eyes flick to Eddie’s lips and back. Eddie nods minutely, closing his eyes as he leans to meet in the middle, and then they’re kissing.
It’s soft at first, chaste and warm. Then Steve presses closer, curling his fingers around to hold the back of Eddie’s head, and their mouths open in tandem, Steve’s tongue slipping gently across Eddie’s upper lip before licking further in to deepen their kiss. He tastes like popcorn and coca-cola and summer rain. It’s magic, it’s sweet, it’s hot as hell, and it’s everything Eddie has ever dreamed of. They make out for what feels like ages, just reveling in the feel of each other before Steve pulls away, panting lightly and smiling like the sun.
“This is like a movie scene or something. Holy shit…” Eddie murmurs in the space between them, eyes still closed and head dizzy with want. “Outcast freak kisses the popular girl,” he jokes before he realizes what he’s said.
He looks up quickly to backtrack but Steve just chuckles low and says, “I could be your girl if you let me. Make everyone we know jealous.” He practically smoulders and tips Eddie’s chin up for another kiss to silence him, nipping at his bottom lip before he pulls away again completely. “Right now though, I think we both need showers and a good night’s rest. You look like a wet dog, Ed.” He laughs again, rich and teasing and Eddie would snap back at him if he wasn’t so thoroughly besotted in this moment.
Instead he just grins stupidly and nods, “yeah okay. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” he asks, suddenly shy and worried that this might actually be a delusion even though that makes no sense. None of this does so forgive him for questioning it.
Steve beams at him, scooping both Eddie’s hands into his own and kissing his knuckles sweetly. “Of course you’ll see me tomorrow. I can’t wait to. I’ll call you after work and we can plan. Sleep well alright?”
Eddie smiles wide at that, ducking in to kiss Steve’s nose and vibrating with relief. “You too, big boy. I’ll be waiting by the phone, twirling my hair all cute and shit. Good night!” he sing-songs before he’s bolting out of the car and scrambling up the slippery steps of the trailer. Steve waves through his window and then he’s gone, leaving Eddie feeling like it’s all too good to be true. He grins to himself and does a happy little wiggle-dance before he heads inside for the night.
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The bedsheets are artfully tangled around Steve as he sleeps, crossing his waist and legs like some ancient Roman sculpture. His hair is mussed and laying gently across his relaxed brow, broad chest rising and falling with each quiet breath. A strong arm is pillowed behind his head, naturally flexing his bicep and exposing his well defined torso. He’s simply stunning - that’s not even an adequate word for it - and Eddie can’t take his eyes off him, gazing longingly like a starstruck Selene to his slumbering Endymion. He wonders how he got so damn lucky as to have someone like this beautiful man in his life.
He lingers at the ensuite door where he’s leaning, admiring how the moon is casting a soft glow over this painting of a man before him, when Steve begins to stir. He blinks slowly, turning away from the moonlight and looks at Eddie with a lazy smile.
“Wha’cha doin’ all the way over there?” he mumbles sleepily.
“Just admiring the view,” Eddie says simply, smirking as he saunters back toward the bed. Steve casts a hand out and reels him in, pulling Eddie right on top of his chest and grunting at the weight. He grins stupidly and kisses his nose, curling his arms around Eddie’s slim waist and squeezing lightly.
“Sweet-talker, you’re just trying to get in my pants,” Steve teases, kneading his fingers into the small of Eddie’s back, firm soothing pressure.
“Don’t know if you noticed, Harrington, but your pants are all the way over there.” Eddie gestures over his shoulder to the piles of their clothes scattered around the room. Steve follows his thumb and blushes. “You’re too easy, babydoll, gotta make it harder for me next time.”
“You want me harder?” Steve quips, a terrible glint in his eye as he reaches down to palm at Eddie’s ass.
Eddie barks out a laugh. “Such a fucking tease. I thought I was the charmer in this relationship, you little minx.” He grinds down into Steve, pulling a moan from him as he leans in for a filthy kiss. God he loves this guy. The thought makes him pause, reality spiking his anxiety as he pulls away from Steve’s lips. He shifts, composing himself quietly and stealing one last peck before he sits up. “As much as I’d love to rock your world a second time, it’s pretty late and you’ve got work in the morning.”
“Aren’t you the responsible one. You sound like my mom.” Steve rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. He’s such a goddamn adorable bitch.
“Ouch! Way to kill the vibe, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, shoving off Steve and sitting on the edge of the bed. Steve reaches and snags his wrist before he has a chance to stand.
“Sorry! Sorry, you’re right. Just 5 more minutes? We can just cuddle, I promise I won’t try anything. I’ll be good.” He looks up with the biggest puppy eyes and Eddie melts on the spot, heaves a weary sigh.
“I highly doubt that, but alright. 5 more minutes mister, then you take me home,” he commands, turning back and slipping under the covers to tuck Steve into his side.
Steve snuggles in and tucks his head under Eddie’s chin. He smiles against Eddie’s neck and says after a beat: “Yes, mommy.”
Eddie groans loudly. “Jesus H. Christ, you’re gonna kill me. Come here, you hellion.” He latches on and rolls them so Steve is on his back again, pinning him down and kissing him soundly, stifling Steve’s giggles as he squirms. They settle eventually, Eddie buried in Steve’s chest and Steve’s hand tangled in his hair, just breathing together in peaceful companionship. It feels like home and he doesn’t ever want to leave.
Before too long they’re back in the car headed to the trailer. It’s quiet and Eddie is burning up inside with all he wishes he could say. Steve parks and turns to him, tired smile and tired eyes and so much adoration written on his face that it makes Eddie’s chest ache, feels like he could explode. “Hey baby, you alright?” Steve asks, a tiny wrinkle forming on his forehead.
“Yeah I… I just…” Eddie swallows hard, fighting whether or not to let it all out. Steve reaches out and rests a hand on his face, soft caress that makes him press into the touch and release the breath he was holding. Just go for it. “I love you…” he breathes, eyes closed and heart pounding with the confession.
Everything is still for a moment - two moments - and then, he feels soft lips press to his brow and he shivers. Kisses at his temples, on his eyelids, down his cheeks, along his jaw. He whimpers quietly at the tenderness, feels tears brimming unbidden and he blinks open to release them. He stares into the green-brown warmth of Steve’s gaze, amber lit by streetlights, and he’s got tears in his eyes too. He’s smiling, small and sweet and somehow still radiant, and he reaches out and places his other hand over Eddie’s heart even as it thunders in his ears.
“I love you too. So much.” A tear slips down Steve’s cheek and he leans to close the space between them, kissing Eddie deeply and reverently. It feels like he’s breaking apart with the weight of it all. He closes his eyes to the kiss, feeling it wash over him. It’s so much, it’s everything he’s ever wanted given so freely, and it feels too good to be true.
It feels too good to be true.
It can’t be true can it? This can’t be real? How did they get this far, to this point? How did Eddie get this lucky? He’s never been this lucky in his life. He’s always been a failure, a reject, an outcast. This can’t be happening. He doesn’t deserve this kind of love? No one has ever loved him this way. This can’t be happening, can it?
——————————————
Eddie jolts awake.
Overhead the ceiling is flaking. There’s a seam in the paneling that’s ripped and the papery corner is curling back as Eddie stares up, hearing the crashing of thunder outside his bedroom window. Red lightning streaks across the dark sky and he hears the shrieks and chittering of monsters in the distance. He feels the aches of his broken body, torn and eaten by the demobats. He’s been in and out of a fever since he came to, alone on his bed in the Upside Down. They must have laid him to rest there, thinking him dead. God he wishes he was instead of whatever half-life this is.
He chokes back a sob and closes his eyes again, tears rolling cold down his face, pooling in his ears. He doesn’t move to wipe them away, too weary for the effort.
He’s alone. His dream, his fantasy, is nothing more than that: a dream. Just a nightmare to torture him in this godforsaken dimension for wanting what he could never hope to have. It isn’t real, Steve doesn’t care for him that way, never did and never will. Eddie is all but dead anyway. You can’t love a deadman. He is dead in hell and all he has is his longing and pain to drive him deeper into the grave.
He slips back into unconsciousness after a moment, the fever dragging him down once more, and he sleeps fitfully as the thunder roars across the land. Dreams of Steve and what could have, might have, never will be.
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#cass says random shit#my writing#Spotify
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To Be A Bat
It had been a week since Helena Wayne had returned to Gotham from her three months’ worth of business trips. She had heard about Terry taking over the mantle of Batman, yet Terry had not heard about how she was his predecessor. So, imagine Terry’s surprise when he walked into the Bat Cave one abnormally sunny afternoon to see a woman with the same eyes as Bruce and the smile of Selina, admiring his suit in the case. Of course, he had seen pictures of her in the papers and around the manor, but he had not yet had the honor of meeting her. Nothing had prepared him for the actual moment their paths would cross much less the words that she spoke upon first looking at him.
“I like the improvements to my old suit,” she said, her fingers tracing over the red symbol on the chest. Her eyes, fixated on Terry as he stood there with his jaw wide open.
“He has never been silent for this long,” Bruce said from the chair in front of the Bat Computer, “Terry this is my daughter Helena.” He did not turn as he was reading a file on the screen.
Terry managed to compose himself and walked over to the Wayne heiress. He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said.
Her handshake was firm but the roughness of the skin on her hands took him aback. There were a few calluses on her fingertips and a couple of noticeable scars. “Likewise,” she said in quite the bubbly tone.
“Silly question, but was that really your old suit?” Terry asked.
Helena let out a hearty chuckle. “You don’t know, do you?” Then she turned to her father and shook her head. “Typical you to not set the record straight.”
“It was not my secret to share,” Bruce countered, slowly turning around to face them both at last.
She rolled her eyes at him. “We’ll have that conversation later.”
“Um…what exactly am I missing here?” Terry asked, scratching the back of his head.
“I was Batman,” Helena said calmly, meeting his eyes and holding his gaze.
“What…but….??? Huh?” Terry stammered. “It’s not because you’re a woman, that’s actually pretty schway, but, you were actually Batman? You’re not pranking me?”
Helena walked over to him, a smirk on her face. “I was. I started when I was twenty-five but only lasted seven years due to a hip injury. She walked over to the sparring area and began to wrap her hands. Her body language changing from polished and collected to pure intimidation. “Now, square up and show me what you got.”
Terry swallowed, suddenly nervous as he followed her lead. “I see the family resemblance now more than ever.”
Before he even had even the slightest idea she was going to attack, Terry found himself laying on his back staring up at Helena, the shadows of the cave swarming around her as if she were one with them. “If you don’t start paying attention, I’ll call Cass to come teach you how to do so.” She reached a hand down to help him up.
Terry hauled himself back on to his feet. “Who is Cass?”
Helena smiled, a hint of mischief gracing her features. “My predecessor.”
“Come again?” Terry asked.
“You heard me,” Helena said.
“How many Batmen are there?” Terry asked.
Bruce and Helena both laughed in response. “Dad, I think we should have a proper family dinner soon,” she said, “and invite Terry.”
“That sounds like a disaster in the making,” Bruce said, clearly exasperated by just the thought of it.
Helena threw a punch that Terry was able to dodge. “Exactly, that’s half the fun of it.”
“I’m now even more confused,” Terry said, his own punch getting blocked in the process.
“That’s half of what it means to be a Bat,” Helena said, landing a punch in his stomach.
“What’s the other half?” Terry asked.
Helena’s smile grew. “You’ll see.”
#terry mcginnis#helena wayne#bruce wayne#cassandra cain#batman#ficlet#fanfic#mine#earth 187#the answer by the way is including terry there have been seven people to use the name batman#bruce jean-paul dick jace fox cass and helena#jean-paul and dick were temporary and jace i'm thinking used the name at the same time as bruce for a bit#then cass took over and helena took over from cass#batman beyond
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this one's for my cassie banana (@henderdads) who wanted a HAPPY grammy related ficlet. but because i wrote it, of course there's going to be a tiniest hint of angst. 🙄 ily and i hope this satisfies ur craving 💗🌷🏆
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As a gay, rock star in the late 90's, Eddie's had to keep his and Steve's relationship under the wraps. He's had to sing songs and change the pronouns from he to she.
In his heart, he knows Steve doesn't mind, knows that he understands that this is the life his boyfriend chose. But Eddie hates it, hates that he can't scream on top of his lungs, on top of the highest mountains, that he loves Steve Harrington and he, miraculously, loves him back.
As Eddie stares at the wall of awards in front of him, he thinks— knows— that not one of these gold, silver, bronze awards mean as much as Steve means to him. No award is as important as the love of his life.
People still remember the Grammy Awards on 2001. No, it's not because of the famous singers. No, it's not because of the performances. No, it's not because of their outfits.
It's because the singer-songwriter of rock band, Corroded Coffin, won their fifth grammy award and what they thought was a normal award speech would change the course of the industry.
Eddie walks up alone, accepts the award and smiles.
"Well, the band— Gareth, Jeff and Grant— has trusted me enough to do this speech without fucking it up." He laughs as he hugs the award closer to his chest.
"Thank you to the recording academy, our managers and our label, for the last 10 years. The last 10 years has been crazy and amazing and surreal. But just this morning," Eddie takes a deep breath, "We— Me and the members of the Corroded Coffin— has decided to move labels. Somewhere we'll be free to express ourselves and be out true colorful selves."
"So yeah, thank you for them and the chance. But this award," Eddie holds it up, "Is for every gay kid who was scared and who thought they were alone. It's for every gay kid who thought they will never, ever get to express themselves and thought they'll have to hide forever."
The audience starts cheering, people clapping and standing as Eddie smiles, bulldozes on, "This grammy is for little Eddie Munson, Gareth Emerson, Jeff Best and Paul Grant. Four gay kids, in the middle of Hawkins, Indiana, just finding each other. We're Corroded Coffin and we're the proof that you could also be free and true to yourself."
"To my boyfriend. Yes, my boyfriend. Every she in every song I wrote was originally an he. Every word and tune was meant to be for you. Sweetheart, baby, you are my whole heart. Steve Harrington, I fucking love you. This fucking grammy is for you."
He holds up the award as he starts walking back to the back of the stage. The people in the crowd give him a standing ovation.
Somewhere in New York, there's a boy, who once survived death himself, smiling and beaming so hard it hurts his jaw. He'll call Eddie later, and thank him for what he's done for people like them. He'll sleep peacefully, knowing that a few kids will sleep better tonight, knowing that everything is going to be okay.
Somewhere in LA, there's a girl, sitting on the couch with a cold champagne and confetti in her hands, waiting for Eddie and Steve to come home. She'll kiss both their cheeks, happy to have them both home. They'll drink, cheer and celebrate being out to the whole world.
But before that, just behind the curtains, a man is waiting for him, with the biggest smile on his face and tears streaming down his face.
Eddie greets him with a smile, and an earth shattering kiss on the lips.
"I am proud of you." Steve says, and Eddie melts in his touch.
"I can sing with boy pronouns now. I am going to be so insufferable." Eddie laughs.
"You go do that, be what the world needs." Steve laughs, hooking his arms with his boyfriend, walking deeper in to backstage.
"What about what you need?" Eddie asks, looking at the man beside him, the one who saved him and who's still saving him.
Steve smiles, holding Eddie's free hand and intertwining it. There's people walking around them, but they're in their own little world. For the first time, they're not hiding.
Steve holds up Eddie's hand, "I've got everything I need right here."
#famous eddie munson my beloved#i hope u love this cass#or ill post the sad one#wooooo 👻#daeheadcanons#dae writes#steddie#steddie headcanon#famous eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#steddie hc
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DPxDC Prompt
Summoning is an imperfect art, mispronouncing a name or having an incorrect symbol can lead to unexpected, and sometimes explosive results.
Summoning can open unexpected doors.
No one's prepared for what--or who--steps through when a rising gang tries to summon backup.
My little ficlet for this is below the cut:
Smoke. The acrid slam of it in the nose, brought on by the screaming wind. Chanting. A chorus of voices, steady and thrumming. Pain. Everything is hazy, and it’s equal odds on it being from the smoke or the potential head injury.
Bruce stumbles to his feet, body throbbing.
This was not how he’d planned this night.
Of course, he hadn’t planned for Gotham to suddenly be overrun with a new…gang? They claimed to be a government organization, but Bruce has his doubts. He hadn’t had a chance to go through the GIW’s information, but according to Barbara, their claims were sketchy at best.
The shouting about ghosts and waving around sci-fi weapons with no trigger discipline certainly didn’t help their claims.
Government organization or not, they had no right to raid homes, to drag people out onto the street, or overall threaten his city.
His ears ring, and the chanting rises in volume, impossibly. His chest reverbes with the sound. It’s steady enough to feel like a second heart. His blurry vision locks onto the center of the summoning circle. Because this night couldn’t get any worse, of course.
First the GIW had rocketed up his list of threats with one simple move.��
They’d gone after Jason.
Jason, who even now was laid out in the middle of the summoning circle, eyes bright, bright, bright green through the haze.
First they’d taken his son.
Then they’d used him as a sacrifice.
Bruce bared his teeth, locking eyes with the closest GIW agent. The man held up his weapon, a glowing baton. His form is weak.
The baton gord flying, Bruce’s armored elbow slamming the man to the ground. The agent curls up, groaning. Nightwing’s escrima sing electric in the background, followed by the whip of Tim’s bow staff. Damian’s sword glints through the haze, and purple flashes through the crowd of white, white, white.
He can’t see Cass, but he doesn’t expect too.
The ground rocks under his feet, and it takes several precious seconds to regain his balance. There seems to be an almost endless flood of agents, with more and more meeting his fists as he tries to make it through the gauntlet.
Suddenly, the air shifts, the scream of it heading for the circle instead of out.
The circle glows toxic green, and Jason’s at the center, frozen in the light.
“No!” Bruce shouts, the sound ripping from his soul.
It’s echoed by Dick, who stands just outside the circle’s boundaries. His hands are pressed against the light, his blue eyes a shock against the green.
It’s a confusion of people - GIW white and the summoner’s black. The GIW is here to end whatever it is they need Jason to summon to them. The summoners themselves seem to have broken away from the “agency” and want power from the being they’re calling. It’s a fight on multiple fronts, with the GIW fighting the summoners and Bruce and his family fighting them all.
The temperature drops.
“HOOD!” Dick screams, as Jason is swallowed by the green.
The chant is all he can hear, even as he shoves towards the circle, even as he slams against the same wall Dick’s against.
The world goes bright and he can’t keep his eyes on Jason. On his son.
When the light fades, Jason’s not alone.
A being sits six feet in the air, Jason collapsed over his lap, somehow hovering with the - what is he? He looks human, but there’s something wrong. Off. Bruce can’t quite pinpoint his age. A crown glows on his head, an ever shifting cape spills down his back, dragging close to the floor. His eyes are green as Lazarus, and just as deep. Jason is breathing, Bruce notes. The being’s hands curl in Jason’s hair, playing with it idly.
The air is *rigid, and everyone’s stopped fighting. No one can draw their eyes away from the being.
“You dare to summon me with one of my own?” The being speaks, and it’s like crackling glaciers. Someone whimpers.
“We - wanted to give you a gift,” One of the men in black says, his voice chattering.
It’s like breathing in ice.
“A gift?” The being says and the sound is fury, banked in a waiting avalanche. “What kind of gift is this? A denizen of my Realms, trapped and tortured? Used to summon his king, against his will? This is no gift.”
“B-but we didn’t know,” another speaks, and then obviously realizes he shouldn’t have.
“Ignorance will not save you,” the being says, and it - he’s? - still holding Jason like he’s something precious. “And I am not the only one you have infuriated.
“I am not the only one you have awoken.”
To a man, the GIW agents cry out in panic. Bruce turns, looking for the threat but - the agents are buried to various depths in the cracked concrete floor. The ground is decidedly solid beneath Bruce’s feet but the agents would obviously not agree. They flounder, like the concrete is quicksand. The summoners are next, but it’s ice that gets them, crawling up their bodies until they’re locked into place.
“My lord!” One cries and promptly finds himself gagged.
Bruce can’t stay silent any longer. “Hood was used against his will to summon you,” he starts. The being’s eyes meet Bruce’s. “He didn’t want this. Is he alright?”
“Your son is fine,” the voice is rough, but feminine, and obviously not from the being. It’s around him, dancing through the steel beams and pushing through concrete. “You are mine, my knight. You and yours are mine. The little king will not harm him, nor you.” A figure forms off to his right.
“Holy shit,” Dick whispers. Bruce has to agree.
She’s made of concrete, of broken brick and dust, of bone and police tape, of twisted metal and more.
“Gotham,” Bruce breathes, and he doesn’t know how he knows but he does.
“Hello, my knight,” she says, her form shifting. She turns slightly, and there’s something sharp in her movement. “Hello, little king.”
“Lady Gotham,” The being - the king? - returns. “You look well,”
Lady Gotham laughs, a ringing sound - it’s bells and gravel, fresh air on a summer day and rising wind. “How you flatter me, little king. Do you fear me?”
The being grins, mischief dancing around him, white hair floating high. “I respect you. It’s good to see you awake, Milady.”
“What is happening?” Tim asks no one in particular. Dick shrugs and Steph just leans harder on Tim. Cass holds Damian’s shoulder firmly, watching carefully.
Bruce wishes he had an answer.
“It is good to be awake,” Lady Gotham says, and she shifts closer to the circle, fingers skimming against the barrier of light. “How long do you intend to keep my reaper from me?”
Reaper. Bruce thinks, and it’s a gut punch.
It makes sense, to describe Jason. Jason can go where Bruce cannot, do what Bruce cannot.
The king laughs lightly. “The summoning harmed him, Milady. I’m just keeping him safe. I’m not here to undermine you,” the king’s eyes glow. “But remember who is king.”
Lady Gotham smiles. “I’m aware of hierarchy little king.”
“My son,” Bruce says, because there’s no point in pretending Jason is anything less. He’s talking to - the embodiment of gotham and a king of - something. “He’ll be okay?”
Lady Gotham sighs. “He will be fine, my knight. The little king cares for his own.”
“What - what are you the king of?” Tim asks, bold.
The being smiles.
“I am Phantom,” he says. “I am the Ghost King.”
Jason stirs in his lap, and the implications crash over Bruce. Maybe Reaper has more meaning than he’d thought.
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For my lovely Cass @henderdads because I owe you a happy, birthday fic 🎂
Steve had a weird relationship with his birthday.
When he was little his birthday was a big event. His mum would wake him up with a big pile of pancakes that he'd get to eat in bed and wouldn't need to worry about getting syrup on the sheets. Then his parents would load him up in the car and they'd go to Indianapolis where they would have lunch in the big park and then his dad would take him to the biggest toystore he'd ever seen and little Steve would pick anything he wanted. He would always fall asleep in the car ride home and his parents would carry him upstairs and tuck him into bed.
Once he started school his parents would throw a big pool party for him and his classmates with cake and presents, one year he even had a bouncy castle. Tommy would get to sleep over and they would get to stay up watching movies and eating popcorn.
Steve could remember the year it all changed.
When he was twelve his parents had to leave for work at the last minute, some emergency Steve didn't really understand. They apologised that they'd miss Steve's birthday but they'd make up for it when they came back and left him money so he and his friends could get pizza or go to the movies while they were gone. It was ok, it felt weird not getting birthday pancakes, he just made himself some cereal and hung out with Tommy and Carol. When they came back they still went to Indy but it felt different, felt forced.
The next year they missed it again, they still left money but there was no Indy makeup trip on their return.
The following year they didn't even realise they missed it until they came back, they gave him some money for pizza, they were leaving again.
By the time he was sixteen he didn't expect anything. He made himself pancakes now, still ate them up in bed, he was a lot better at cooking now. He hung out with Tommy, took Nancy on a date. It was fine, it was just another day but with pancakes.
Robin brought back the magic of birthdays.
When she discovered what his birthday was she insisted she get to plan his day. Steve had no plans so he agreed easily with his best friend.
The night before his birthday she slept over, they crashed on the couch together under a pile of blankets, the TV still on. Steve woke up the next day to noise in the kitchen. He saw Robin making pancakes and almost cried.
"Hey birthday boy! Sit, sit, these are almost done, my mum always makes me pancakes on my birthday so I thought you'd like the same."
"Y-yeah thanks, Robin."
They ate their pancakes as Robin told him about her plans for the day, she had convinced Jon and Nance to carpool the kids to the quarry and they were going to have a picnic down there with the whole little family.
It was a perfect day.
Steve spent his twentieth birthday in a hospital room. Eddie had been here for weeks, Max just down the hall, Steve barely left, only to help volunteers and get a change of clothes. At least Eddie was awake, Steve loved talking to him, learning everything about him. He didn't even realise his birthday had arrived until Robin arriving with a little Tupperware of pancakes.
"Didn't think I'd miss the big day did you? You're old now dingus the big 2-0."
Steve cracked a smile, his eyes stung a bit with tears seeing the pancakes.
"Thanks, Robbie."
"Stevie, you didn't tell me it was your birthday, shouldn't you be doing something fun."
Steve smiled at Eddie softly, "I'm exactly where I want to be, Eds."
The three of the shared the pancakes and swapped stories of birthdays past.
Steve could never pick a favourite birthday but the morning of his 21st came pretty close. He woke up just as the sun started filtering through the curtains of his tiny apartment. Their soft rays gently stirring him. He opened his eyes to see the space beside him empty, he was confused briefly before the bedroom door opened.
Eddie cracked a soft smile as he gazed at his boyfriend.
"Good morning, sweetheart, special delivery for the birthday boy."
That morning they shared a big stack of pancakes in their bed and didn't worry about getting syrup on the sheets. Pretty close to a perfect birthday.
#happy birthday cass#love uuuu#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#stobin#robin buckley#enjoy some sweet fluff#fluff with a sprinkle of angst#ficlet
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It's Cass Day!!!! Happy happy happy happy birthday @henderdads. i love you so so much, and I'm so thankful that you let me plot all my fics and ficlets (including this one ha!) in your dms. (and of course, I'm thankful for you forever and always for everything). I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful birthday :))))
Wednesday afternoons are Steve’s favorite afternoon out of the whole week.
There’s something about pushing a squeaky cart around the local grocery store and making small talk with the Wednesday regulars - a gossipy book club of moms who do their shopping at the same time so they have more time to complain about their husbands - that really fills Steve heart. (Or maybe it’s just the slight bitchy side of him that loves to rag on Elizabeth’s husband Tom who really needs to get his head out of his ass and appreciate the beauty in front of him, and of course he can’t forget Charles, Lisa’s dick of a husband who apparently doesn’t know what a date night is, oh! And Margaret’s husband Al… and really, he could go on about these husbands for hours without getting tired of it)
Really, he loves the routine of it all. And the way the women dote on him for being so kind to his girlfriend back home - which he constantly reminds them is not his girlfriend. But he sometimes wishes the groceries in his cart and the scribbled list in his hand was for someone he could go back home to greet with a kiss. (After giving Robin a hug of course, because in any fantasy, some of those things on that list and in the cart are always going to be for Robin).
But really, it would be nice to have someone to brag about to the group. Maybe bring up their spirits that love is not lost and-
Steve stops in his tracks, all thoughts gone from his head as he does a double take at the magazine rack near the checkout. And yeah, he knows that Corroded Coffin is popular. Hell, he’s seen Eddie’s face on the same rack at least five times before. But never like this.
The picture on the front page is taken at a lower angle, with Eddie clad in leather pants and a tight mesh black shirt that might be a crop top, but Steve can’t tell with the way Eddie’s guitar is covering his midriff, hands flying over the frets, showing off silver rings glimmering under the stage lights including the one that Steve helped Dustin pick out for him as a celebratory gift. But as Steve’s eyes trace over Eddie’s bare arms and the stark black tattoos, he’s led to wild curls perfectly framing Eddie’s face which stares down at the cords, mouth parted in an ‘o’ shape and eyebrows knitted together in concentration in a way that makes Steve feel weak in the knees.
And Steve’s suddenly hit with the question: Why didn’t anyone tell him that Eddie was hot???
He snatches the magazine off the rack before he can even really think about it, and tries not to think of what the moms will say about him when he leaves.
Maybe they’ll stop assuming he has a girlfriend at home at least.
During his drive home, he can’t help but think about the magazine laying between the loaf of bread and carton of ice cream that were packed together by the newest bag boy - which the ladies have a lot to say about, but Steve can’t think of anything besides that damn picture.
Once he’s back at the apartment, he puts the groceries away at an alarmingly fast rate, before making his way to the couch and laying back with the magazine in his hands.
It’s nice to see Eddie on the front cover of a magazine without it being attached to some weird scandal that Eddie had nothing to do with. Usually it’s an ill timed photo because he always happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But this time…
Steve let’s out a deep breath and flips through the magazine, hoping that there’s some type of interview with more pictures that he can secretly stare at and panic about later.
There’s a bunch of boring looking articles and ads until he spots a page with bright red lettering and a number of pictures. Steve can’t help but wet his lips when he opens the page to find a picture of Eddie smiling at something off camera, looking totally different from the front cover. He just looks like… Eddie.
Yet, Steve finds his heart racing even harder at this picture, missing those dimples and that glimmer of mischief in Eddie’s eyes that’s usually directed at him. And Steve suddenly wonders what or who Eddie's looking at, feeling a bloom of jealousy in his chest.
He glances away from the picture and scans the page for another one. He smiles when he sees Eddie with the rest of his band mates, leaning heavily on Jeff while pulling his signature expression, nearly elbowing Jeff in the ribs to do his devil horns.
Steve laughs at Jeff’s face scowling down at him while Gareth and Frank cackle beside them. He wonders when they’ll be back in town.
Wait.
Steve dog ears the page before running up to his calendar where Robin had written “Dustin’s favorite day ever” on the upcoming Friday.
“Oh no,” Steve mutters to himself. That’s way too damn soon for Eddie to come home after Steve’s realization. He needs to give him at least two weeks to panic and process.
Okay, if Eddie was there with him, the panicking and processing would probably happen in two hours- no, minutes- maybe even seconds. But giving Steve two days is not the right amount of time. That’s just enough time for Steve to really start and settle into the panic. But hey, maybe he can dedicate the next twenty-four hours to panicking and the twenty-four hours after that to processing. Right?
Absolutely. He can do this.
-:-:-:-:-:-
"Robin, I can't do this."
Robin rolls her eyes at him. "I can't believe one picture wrecked you."
"It's not my fault! It's the damn photographer and whoever put that picture on the front cover," Steve complains, running a hand through his hair. "They're the ones who made me think of him like that."
"Uh huh."
Steve glances over at Robin who looks completely engrossed in painting her nails a deep purple color that looks black from where Steve is standing. He glances at himself in the mirror, nervously styling his hair before picking up the magazine from where it has made a permanent home on the coffee table. He flops down on the couch next to Robin who yelps and groans, "You made me smudge my nail polish!"
"We have more important things to worry about than the state of your nail polish."
Robin carefully cleans around the edge of her nail, stained with the dark color before turning to Steve. "Yes, the sudden realization that Eddie is hot is very important to me."
"You know what I mean," Steve sighs, leaning back against the couch as he opens the magazine to his favorite picture of Eddie in this edition. He looks at it for a moment, immediately closing it when he realizes he's smiling.
Robin blows on her nails and frowns before glancing back at Steve. "Okay. He's going to be here in less than an hour. How can I help you? Although, I really don't think you'll need my help at all."
"What do you mean?" Steve asks, a pinch forming between his brows.
Robin gives him a look. "You're going to act weird around him. He's going to eventually pick up on it. And then you're going to confess all these feelings you're having and then..." Robin has a sudden look of realization and immediate disappointment. "Then, I'm going to have to find somewhere else to stay tonight since you told Eddie he could stay here on the couch, which is not going to happen after your little confession."
"He's going to leave?" Steve asks quickly in confusion and slight panic.
Robin huffs, "No, he's going to be staying in your bed. And I really do not want to hear that."
Steve frowns. "You don't even know if he thinks I'm hot."
A look passes over Robin's face, first humor, then a bit of confusion, disbelief, and, once again, disappointment. "Steve," she asks, grabbing his hand, eyes staring hard into his. "This whole time you've had the magazine, you never read the interview?" Robin asks as if it's the most important question she's ever asked him.
"Why would I read it?" Steve asks with a shake of his head. When Robin's jaw drops, he gets the sudden message that he is definitely missing something. He snatches up the magazine and flips it open, somehow not getting to the interview right away although he was sure that he opened it to that page so much that it permanently creased the spine.
Just as he gets to it. There's a loud, persistent knock on the door.
Steve's and Robin's eyes meet in a panic. "Hide the magazine," Robin all but hisses as she makes it to the door raising her voice to say, "We have neighbors! Keep it down, dingus!"
Steve looks around, wondering if he can shove the magazine under the couch, but he knows Eddie would somehow see it in his antics. When he spots the stack of magazines on their side table, he rushes to put the magazine right in the middle of them. Hiding in plain sight. Perfect.
He stands up as soon as the door swings open, trying not to look guilty and failing miserably, only to breathe a sigh of relief when he realizes it's only Dustin. "Henderson," he says with a goofy smile launching into their handshake and ending it with a quick laugh, knocking off Dustin's hat to ruffle his hair.
When Dustin starts complaining about his hat being on the floor, Steve bends down to pick it up, only for a pale, ring-clad hand to grab onto it at the same time Steve does.
Steve glances up and locks eyes with Eddie. His heart starts to pound at an alarming rate as he takes in the familiar deep brown irises, moving on to take in the slight blush on Eddie's cheeks alongside a wide smile. "Steeeve Harrington," Eddie drawls out, the way he does when he hasn't seen him in a while.
"Munson," Steve says with a nod, a wide smile tugging at his lips that he tries to push down, as he always does when it comes to Eddie as if pretending not to care. The same way he does when he's trying to get someone to like him...
Oh.
Shit, he doesn't just think he's hot. He likes him. Hell, he's liked him for a long time even. And now he has even less time to panic about that.
Steve glances up, finding that Eddie has stood up, hat still between their hands as he stares down confusedly at Steve. He offers a hand, and Steve takes it, easily being pulled up into his space. He lingers close to Eddie, eyes dipping down to his lips, realizing how much he wants- needs this.
He glances up at Eddie, finding his pupils blown wide and his brow furrowed. And Steve finally feels that electricity that he's been searching months- no, years for.
"Am I getting my hat back?" Dustin asks, clearly annoyed.
Steve and Eddie both shove the hat over at the same time, eyes reluctantly leaving each other, only for Steve to see Robin giving him an unimpressed look. He can practically see her trying to figure out who she's going to call to spend the night with.
Steve glances back at Eddie and rushes out, "It's- uh, good to see you again."
Eddie grabs a strand of hair and pulls it in front of his face, kicking nothing as he says, "You miss me, Steve?"
Steve shakes his head automatically, "No." He turns to Dustin and asks him when the others are getting there, but his question is answered when the door opens behind them again.
"Do you guys knock?" Robin asks, stealing the words out of Steve's mouth.
"Do you guys lock your door?" Mike snarks back.
Steve sighs and moves to Robin's side, watching as the kids all greet Eddie excitedly. "Why don't they greet us like that?" Steve quietly bitches.
"Because we're not famous and gone all the time," Robin answers with a frown. "By the way, tonight is going totally as I planned."
Steve rolls his eyes. "No, it is not. I have been acting completely normally around him."
"Yeah, because you two have the tendency to eye fuck each other for an uncomfortable amount of time." Robin pauses and considers what she said. "Actually, I take that back. You two are acting completely normal."
"Since when do we-"
"Hey," Eddie says, successfully cutting Steve off, "When the pizzas get here, I'm paying."
Robin nudges Steve in the side after a few seconds pass, and Steve can't help but stare at the man instead of processing anything he said. "Hmm?"
"I'm paying for the pizza you all ordered," Eddie says, brows still furrowed. "Are you okay?"
Steve nods and crosses his arms. "Yes, it's just that we didn't order any pizza."
"But Dustin said..." Eddie trails off and glances at the kids. "Those little shits."
"Someone needs to give them a stern talking to."
Eddie raises his brows. "Are you shirking your co-parenting duties while I'm away?"
Steve huffs out a laugh. "Don't worry, I'm keeping your sheep in line."
Eddie offers him a big smile and leans in to say, "Sorry, I can't be here often, sweetheart."
Steve shoves him away with a roll of his eyes, ignoring the way his heart flutters at the nickname. "Go do your part and entertain them."
"And pay for the food!" Eddie reminds him yet again, walking toward the group, eyes not leaving Steve.
"My hero," Steve says, taking a page from Eddie's book of dramatics by crossing his hands over his heart and fluttering his lashes.
Eddie stops in his tracks, looking over him before shaking his head and going to the table where everyone is setting up.
"That was painful to witness," Robin says, scaring the shit out of Steve. She crosses her arms. "Did you really forget I was here?" When Steve doesn't respond, she walks away, muttering, "Unbelievable."
Steve runs a hand through his hair, willing his heart to slow down before he has to sit through this long-ass campaign - that he secretly really enjoys, but no one except Robin will ever know.
-:-:-:-:-:-
A few hours later, Steve finds himself giving the kids hugs as they rush out his door, nearly missing their curfew. When they make their way to Eddie, he whispers to Robin, "See, the night didn't go as planned at all."
Robin raises her eyebrows at him and whispers back, "Yeah, you're not going to act weird at all when you two are alone."
Steve gives her a panicked look. "What do you mean- you're not leaving are you?"
Robin throws her hands up in a shrug as she backs up into her room, leaving the door open as she very obviously packs an overnight bag. Steve wonders if there is any way to stop her without alerting Eddie.
"What's Buckley doing?" Eddie asks, startling Steve. Eddie reaches out and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay? You've been on edge all night."
Steve nods automatically. "Yeah, I'm fine." And yeah, he is fine. And he has not been on edge at all because that would mean that Robin is right.
Speak of the devil... "I'm heading out tonight! You two have fun," Robin says with a salute. "I'll see you tomorrow." Before Steve or Eddie can stop her, she's already out the door, leaving them entirely alone. Steve doesn't even remember when the kids all left.
"I'm guessing you know what that's about," Eddie says, eyebrows disappearing under his bangs as he stares at the door.
"No idea," Steve replies, making his way back to the dining area to clean up the remaining mess the teens made, and really he was going to have to give them another lecture about cleaning up after themselves.
"Steve," Eddie says softly.
Steve hums in response but doesn't dare to look his way as he stacks up various empty plastic cups.
"Steve," Eddie tries again.
And Steve knows that tone. Knows that if he fully engages, Eddie will want to have a serious conversation which is not something they often do. So he just keeps cleaning until there's nothing left to do except brush imaginary crumbs off the table.
"Steve," Eddie says, voice impossibly close to him.
Steve takes a deep breath and turns to him, heart skipping a beat when he finds Eddie hovering in his space.
"What's going on?" Eddie asks gently.
Steve shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing." He quickly moves away from Eddie, grabbing a napkin off one of the kitchen counters and tossing it into the trash on his way to the living room.
"Why are you acting weird?"
"I'm not," Steve says, resting his hands on his hips in the same way he does when the kids start to annoy him.
Eddie raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms, staring but not saying anything.
Steve stares back, jutting his hip out in a show of how adamant he is about his answer.
After a few tense seconds pass by, Eddie slowly walks closer to him, and Steve fights for his eyes to not flicker down to his lips. When Eddie is within arms reach, he leans forward. "Steve, what is wrong?"
Steve shrugs nonchalantly, but his eyes betray him and flicker to the stack of magazines beside the couch. He tries to keep his features carefully blank, but he sees the moment Eddie realizes there is something significant about that glance.
Before Steve can stop him, Eddie is diving down to the magazines, snatching up the whole stack in his arms. Steve moves forward to grab them, only to realize his error when Eddie scoots back and smiles wildly. "This is it, isn't it? What, did you hide a filthy magazine inside here or something?"
"Eddie..." Steve warns, standing above him, hands still on his hips.
Eddie smiles before turning his eyes to the stack and leafing through them. Steve moves down quickly, knocking the magazines out of his hands as he practically straddles Eddie. He stares down at him, eyes wide, about to move back when he notices Eddie's eyes resting on his stomach.
Steve glances down between them only to see the image of Eddie on the front cover staring back at him.
"Shit, I didn't know they released that yet," Eddie says, laying fully back, hands dragging over his face. He lets them rest there before spreading his fingers to ask, "You read the interview, didn't you?"
"No," Steve says honestly.
Eddie frowns and props himself up on his elbows. "When did you get this?"
"Wednesday." And curse his damn mouth for rambling without his permission.
"You got this two days ago but haven't read the interview?" Eddie's expression shifts from fearful to cocky. "Steve Harrington, did you buy this just to stare at me?"
"No," Steve says, crossing his arms.
Eddie sits up fully, and Steve becomes very aware of the way he's still sitting on top of Eddie's thighs. "Did you get all flustered about this?" Eddie asks, holding up the magazine teasingly.
Steve's eyes flicker to the front cover again, and his lips suddenly feel very dry. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. He glances back at Eddie and shrugs. "You look fine."
"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"
"Has anyone ever told you you need to get your ego in check?"
Eddie smirks at him. "Why would I need to do that when I know Steeeeve Harrington bought the magazine with my face on it?"
"Stop saying my name like that," Steve says, leaning forward trying to be menacing, but only satisfying Eddie by getting closer to him.
"Why? Steeev-" Eddie's cut off when Steve suddenly moves forward and kisses him, hands flying up into his curls to pull him closer.
Steve stills before pulling back, searching Eddie's eyes.
"You...?" Eddie asks before raking a hand through his hair. "You actually bought it to stare at me?"
Steve rolls his eyes. "You already knew that since I'm 'such a bad liar,'" Steve says adding air quotes.
"I was hoping you were. Christ, Steve, this?" Eddie asks, holding up the magazine.
Steve runs a hand through his hair. "You look hot!"
"Christ," Eddie says again, this time dropping the magazine to pull Steve into another kiss. He breaks it to mumble, "I can't believe you haven't read the damn interview." His hands run through Steve's hair messing up the strands before he pulls back suddenly. "Wait."
"Yeah?" Steve asks as Eddie's eyes practically glaze over in panic.
Eddie's chest heaves for a second before he says, "Fuck, you bought it because you thought I'm hot not because... fuck." He looks away from Steve and stares down at the magazine as if it personally offended him.
"Huh?" Steve asks, knees starting to ache on the hardwood floor. He climbs off of Eddie with a groan, but Eddie must take it wrong because he almost immediately stands up.
"Sorry, it's stupid," Eddie says with a humorless laugh. "Hey, do you think Buckley will be upset if I take her bed for the night? It's been a long day, and I'm about ready to clonk out."
Steve can feel his face morph into an expression of bewilderment. "Eddie, what?"
Eddie shakes his head. "Yeah, you're right. Dumb idea. Robin would kill me. I'll take the couch like usual."
Steve carefully stands and steps into Eddie's space, but Eddie sidesteps him easily. He watches as he flops down on the couch, refusing to look at him.
Steve's eyes settle back on the magazine, reaching down to grab it to find whatever the hell is in that interview.
"Steve, please don't."
Steve ignores Eddie the same way he ignored him, opening the magazine to the same page his eyes have landed on several times before. His eyes settle on the image of Eddie before moving to the words, skimming before he finds his own name staring back at him. He backtracks, looking at the question and answer.
Do you guys have any sources of inspiration?
Jeff: Oh, Eddie sure does.
Frank: He has what you might call a muse back at home.
Eddie: Please shut up.
Gareth: A beautiful muse with the most beautiful hair you've ever seen.
Eddie: Please stop talking about Stevie.
Jeff: He's just shy when it comes to his little crush.
Eddie: Next question, please.
Steve glances up at Eddie who sits red-faced on the couch. He clears his throat. "They told me they would cut it out entirely, but then they reached out later saying it was too good not to publish, but they did me the favor of changing your name to something more feminine so they didn't out me. Still fucked though. I'm sorry you got pulled into this mess."
Steve looks back at the magazine and then at Eddie. "Is it true?"
Eddie groans and lays back on the couch dramatically. "Please don't make me answer that. I've gotten enough shit from the guys, and I know you don't feel that way about me. It's okay that you only find me hot, I'll take what I can."
It hits Steve all at once what Eddie's sudden dramatics are about. "Oh my god. Eddie, I like you, too!"
Eddie's head pops up. "What?"
Steve turns the magazine to him and points at the picture of Eddie laughing. "This is what I've been so flustered and weird about. Yes, the front cover made me realize that, hey, I find you really attractive. But I've been staring at this picture for way longer, and I didn't know why until you got here tonight. And it hit me that I like you. I think I have for a long time, but I just didn't connect the dots before."
"You like me?" Eddie echos, dumbfounded.
Steve laughs. "Yes, I wouldn't have kissed you if I didn't have feelings for you."
"That's a fucking relief," Eddie says, scrambling off the couch and racing to pull Steve into another kiss.
Steve smiles into the kiss, pulling Eddie as close to him as possible as Eddie attempts to do the same.
"I'm going to give that photographer the biggest tip ever," Eddie says breaking the kiss for a moment only to kiss him again.
Steve smiles so wide that he can barely kiss Eddie back. When they break away, Steve says, "I'm going to have to buy another."
"Why?"
"I have to get the front picture and the interview framed," Steve says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"Of course," Eddie says with a laugh before wrapping his arms around Steve and pulling him in close. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you, too," Steve replies.
They hold each other for a while, not willing to break the moment until a sudden thought has Steve groaning.
"What?" Eddie asks, pulling back to look at him.
"Robin was right."
Eddie smiles. "When is she not?"
"Never," Steve answers simply.
They stand in each other's arms just happy to be so close, taking each other in as if it's for the first time. Steve wonders what to tell the Wednesday regulars and how they'd respond if he introduced Eddie to them. He thinks back to Lisa's comments about how the group should just date each other and how Sarah had responded with a little too much enthusiasm, and Steve thinks things will be just fine.
"What are you thinking about?"
Steve shakes his head with a smile. "What are you doing this Wednesday?" he asks, making a mental note to add two frames, another magazine, and Robin's favorite ice cream to the list.
"Anything you want," Eddie replies easily.
And with that, Steve finds himself looking forward to his Wednesday afternoon even more than usual.
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Ficlet: Bodyswap (Dick-Jason and Tim-Steph)
Based on my own prompt, which wouldn't leave my brain.
This is a body-swap fic with only the awkwardness. None of the bonding. Just the weird uncomfortable parts. Okay maybe a little of the bonding.
Excerpt:
Across the Cave, a furious voice echoed off stalagmites and startled several bats.
“Why are you so HORNY ALL THE TIME?!”
An indignant, and equally-bat-startling voice immediately responded.
“Why AREN’T you?!”
It seems there was an impasse.
It’s a tale as old as time. Batfamily meets warlock, warlock fumbles a spell, warlock disappears in a cloud of smoke, Batfamily realises they’re body-swapped…
You know. That old classic.
WARNINGS: Mentions of menstruation, mentions of sex drives and sexuality, swearing
Across the Cave, a furious voice echoed off stalagmites and startled several bats.
“Why are you so HORNY ALL THE TIME?!”
An indignant, and equally-bat-startling voice immediately responded.
“Why AREN’T you?!”
It seems there was an impasse.
It’s a tale as old as time. Batfamily meets warlock, warlock fumbles a spell, warlock disappears in a cloud of smoke, Batfamily realises they’re body-swapped…
You know. That old classic.
Dick and Jason were glaring at each other. Themselves. Each other, in each other’s bodies. You've got it, it's not your first rodeo right?
It’s been three days since the unfortunate warlock incident. As well as Jason and Dick, Tim and Stephanie have also been body-swapped in a move that seemed particularly designed by the spell/universe to cause maximum rage to Steph and mortification to Tim.
Jason and Dick have refused to allow the team to be locked down because Fuck Off, You Can’t Tell Me What To Do (Jason) and Bruce For The Good Of The Team We Need Some Space Because If We Murder Each Other It Will Be Bad For Morale (Dick).
Bruce might have held out for longer but Alfred’s visiting family in England and without his arched brow of British judgement, Bruce tends to let his children pick whichever course of action seems like it will cause the least about of hassle to Bruce’s personal routine.
He didn’t love them in the Cave 24/7 either. He’s had to ship Cass and Damian off to one of his nicer safehouses because having to manage four moody, hormonal, body-swapped vigilantes was hard enough without the mental load of school pickups and packed lunches. He misses Alfred. He’s hiding in his office at the moment, getting more Wayne Enterprises work done than he has in years.
Jason and Dick, and Tim and Stephanie, have spent three days in each other’s bodies, absolutely not patrolling or going anywhere that they’re likely to be recognised, but exercising and getting coffee and generally behaving like prisoners on day release. Zatanna has assured them that these sorts of spells usually fizzle out after less than a month, so it’s just a waiting game.
Apparently, they are bored. Apparently, they’re getting on each other’s nerves again.
Jason, in Dick’s body, has just raked his hands through his hair and pulled it nearly hard enough to rip it out.
“Why are you so HORNY ALL THE TIME!?” he has bellowed.
Dick’s reaction is to pull Jason’s body to its full height in indignation. “Why AREN’T you?” he shouts back.
Jason is at the end of his rope. “Everyone you see!” he says, pointing a finger at Dick. “I was just going for a fucking RUN. I just wanted some exercise, because this fucking body can’t go three minutes without goddam MOVING. And it just wouldn’t SHUT UP.”
He’s so mad. He continues: “This fucking body checks out EVERYONE. You’re constantly just sizing people up and thinking about boning them. ALL THE FUCKING TIME.”
Dick is also mad. “That’s not true!” he rebuts. “I notice people! We’re trained to be observant! Yeah, one of the things I notice about them is attraction. That’s NORMAL. That’s what people DO. At least I’m not thinking about the best ways I could incapacitate some poor 15-year-old barista.”
Jason flares Dick’s nostrils. “I do NOT think about hurting kids.”
Dick scoffs. “No, you think about hurting EVERYONE. Everyone you see is a threat. How could I take this person down? Am I stronger than this person? Is that lady hiding a gun in that baby stroller? All day long! You think that’s normal? You think that’s better than noticing if someone’s attractive?”
“It’s more fucking useful, especially in our line of work. You think you’ll ever save the day with a heroic boner?”
“Oh my god stop talking about it!”
“I wish I could stop THINKING about it! I had to SHOWER in this goddam body. Do you know how hard it is to ignore someone else’s boner in your shower? I nearly punched myself in the dick, pun fucking intended.”
Dick makes Jason’s teeth grind. “Do NOT break my penis.”
Jason points at Dick again like he’s a giant disobedient dog. “I will get your FUCKING nipples pierced if this body has one more hard on. I’m not fucking around.”
Dick flails Jason’s huge arms. His fluid, lithe movements look very out of place on a muscle-bound heavyweight. Almost campy. “I have literally ZERO control over that right now. You realise that right? You realise you sound ridiculous.”
“You’re the one who conditioned your body to be like this. Make it stop!”
“I don’t know if you forgot about this part of puberty or if you were just too busy being angry and emo and FARTING to notice, but boners are a fact of life, suck it up.”
“Firstly, some of us actually eat vegetables - YOU need more fibre in your diet, Grayson, don’t get me started on that – and secondly, sorry I didn’t condition myself to repress freakish amounts of lust. I must have been too busy DYING and being RESURRECTED and BRAINWASHED BY THE LEAGUE OF ASSASSINS.”
“Oh my god WE GET IT, YOU DIED. You cannot use that to win every argument. Stop being so angry in my body, I can feel how gross and grouchy yours is all the time and I don’t want you infecting mine.”
“That’s funny, since I’m probably keeping your body the cleanest it’s been since you were fifteen, you horny maniac.”
“There’s a difference between feeling attraction and acting on it! It’s NORMAL to notice people in a sexual way! Don’t shame me!”
“Stop saying ‘attraction’, this is not attraction, this is Ivy-level mind-fogging crotch-throbbing run-ruining-“
“Just because all YOU think about is violence and murder, don’t get mad at me for having a sex drive!”
“I’m not mad at you for having a sex drive! I’m mad at you for making ME have your sex drive!”
“I didn’t cast this spell!”
“I know!”
“There’s nothing wrong with being sexual and expressing it with whoever I want, as long as they’re consenting!”
“I know! I support you! I couldn’t give a fuck who you bone and I don’t want to think about it, but I support it!”
“Good!”
“Good!”
Steph and Tim are standing a few feet away, watching hypnotically. Steph uses Tim’s bony elbow to nudge him in her ribs. She whispers something to him and he snorts a laugh, then freezes.
“Um,” he says in Steph’s voice, expression tight. “I think you might need to teach me how to use a tampon. Or, uh. Sanitary pad. Whichever you’re most comfortable with. Or. Um. Maybe your body just peed? Many women develop incontinence after childbirth, so it’s fine, I just. Uh. I just want to know what I’m dealing with here.”
Steph gapes at him. “Jesus fucking Christ.” She grabs her phone and swears when the fingerprint ID doesn’t work. Jabbing in her PIN, she swipes to her period tracker app. “Fuck. Un-fucking-believable.”
Ten minutes later, Steph and Tim emerge from the Cave’s bathrooms with grim expressions, not meeting each other’s eyes.
Tim, valiantly trying to remain scientific, offers, “I didn’t know it smelled different than normal blood.”
Steph digs Tim’s nails into his palms. “Stop talking.”
Tim cannot stop talking. “I just mean. I’ve been around a lot of blood, but never, you know. That kind of blood. And I never thought about how, in its basic composition, it’s not just blood, it’s also endometrial cells and cervical lining so of course it would be different.”
“Stop. Talking.”
Tim is a nervous talker. “And also, good idea on using the gloves and applicator. That way I didn’t have to touch any, um, you know, touch your, touch you when I was doing the. Yeah. Not that it would be gross or bad to touch you, I mean. You’re very. Great. And women are. So brave. Every month. But it’s just. You know. It’s not. I mean you consented, but in this situation, is it really consent, since this whole thing is kind of coercive, since you don’t REALLY have control over your-“
“SHUT UP!”
Dick and Jason raise their heads like meerkats from where they’ve ended up facing off with their phones, stubbornly shout-reading each other google search results for “normal male sex drive” and “how do I know if I’m asexual”.
“Everything okay over there?” asks Dick, Jason’s deeper voice carrying easily across the Cave.
“Fine!” say Steph and Tim in tandem.
“Totally natural and normal!” adds Tim helpfully. “We’re totally comfortable. We’re blossoming. We’re very healthy.”
Steph groans. “I cannot believe I used to date you.”
Part Two
#batfamily headcanons#red hood#jason todd#dick grayson#bruce wayne#batfamily#nightwing#tim drake#stephanie brown#batman fanfiction#bodyswap au#asexual jason todd#not asexual dick grayson#sexually-ambiguous jason todd#sex-positive Jason Todd
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SarahBucky Fleur De Louve Month 2023 - Day 6 Prompt: “There’s no place like home.” | SFW
Sarah Wilson/Bucky Barnes, and Special Guest Cameos: Cass & AJ Wilson and Alpine the Cat
* * * * * * * * * *
He sees the front porch, and another piece of what he called “the Thunder-whatever thing” falls off of him.
Stepping out of the van, he grabbed his backpack and duffle, and nodded to the driver.
“Thanks, pal.”
“My pleasure, Sarge!”
The vehicle pulled away, and before Bucky mounted the steps, he looked around the yard, doing a casual perimeter check.
Some old habits can’t die.
Especially not now, when everything he holds dear is on the other side of that door.
He closed his eyes and heard the boys and Sarah inside:
“Luke! You can nevah defeat me!”
“I am stronger with the Force, Vader!”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Uh-huh!”
“Cass! AJ! Are you done with your homework?”
And he smelled food cooking.
Meatloaf, greens, macaroni and cheese.
His mouth watered coming off of 3 ½ weeks of food from fast food stores and greasy diners, none of it properly seasoned as far as he was concerned.
A small white cat stepped onto the porch, sat, and waited.
“Hi there,” he said softly, scratching behind her ear with his right hand. She jumped up into his arms, and climbed up to his left shoulder.
“I missed you too,” he cooed. “You been good, Alpine?”
‘Mrow,” she answered, rubbed her face on his ear, purring.
Before putting the key into the lock, he placed his hand on the door jamb.
“Sikelela le ndawo,” he whispered.
Opening the door, he sees a lightsaber duel in full swing in the living room, accompanied, of course, by John Williams’ iconic music coming from the TV.
“Hey fellas!”
“Uncle Bucky!” the boys chime together, dropping their plastic weapons, running to hug him and tussle over his duffle and backpack.
Alpine jumps down heading straight for the kitchen as he knelt so they could all get their arms around each other.
“Guys? Did you hear me?” Sarah calls, walking into the dining room as he stands and closes the door. “Time to get ready for—“
Her face lights up, but her “Mama’s Not Playing” voice is what the boys hear:
“Are you guys lightsabering in this house again? You know better. Go put Bucky’s bags in the mudroom, pick up your stuff out of here, wash your hands and set the table. You can play space battle outside after dinner.”
“Okay, mama!” They snickered hauling the bags into the kitchen because they knew what was going to happen next: The Kissin’ Stuff, which they didn’t mind too much because it made their mama all smiley. Mama and Uncle Bucky.
“Hey Sarah.”
“James. Come’ere, you.”
She opens her arms and he walks into her embrace.
He removed his dog tags and placed them around her neck before he kissed her, and as he did, Alpine continued to purr as she wound her way around their legs and the boys carried on with their Luke vs Vader debate while putting plates and silverware on the dining room table.
This was where he wanted to be, and where she wanted him: in kid’s hijinx, in cat chaos, and in Sarah’s arms.
He meant it from the bottom of his heart when he looked into her eyes and said:
“There’s no place like home.”
* * * * * * * * * *
Posted HERE on the AO3 .
Thanks for reading!
#bucky barnes#sarah wilson#sarahbucky#buckysarah#sarah x bucky#bucky x sarah#sarah wilson x bucky barnes#bucky barnes x sarah wilson#cass & aj wilson#alpine#fleur de louve#fleurdelouve month 2023#day 6#sarahbucky fanfiction#sarahbucky moodboard#by tllgrrl aka Nefertiri Jones#yeah it’s fluff#fan ficlet#fanfiction
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i think i vaguely remember you mentioning that you had ideas about continuing the death defying ficlet rocky road right? are you still excited by the idea, and what shenanigans do you have planned if you do continue?
A death defying fic has been something I've wanted to write for ages. I think that ficlet has a really nice chance of been something short and cute to make/let me finally write one! (I also love the fuck buddies masked one for the Titans feels and some day want to do a Talon!Dick fic.)
For that one... obviously Danny has the Bats in chaos, but if it was big enough to call Dick in on date night, something big is going down so they have to shove it all aside to deal with later.
Dick insists on going back to Danny that night which some Bats don't want because what if he's a threat? For there... honestly I don't know!
Could take it where the Bats are all hand son deck to try to find out more about Danny. Like they ran a basic background check but now need to do a better one. Or try to stalk him, but Danny always knows they're there. So he walks right over to Tim to give him a coffee, or drag Cass to a meal, or give Jason a book he borrowed. Danny is completely nonchalant about this all.
The Bats are just !!! but Dick won't let them schedule the Big Dinner while Danny is studying for midterms. And maybe being Dick he's using that as an excuse not to ask too many questions himself and keep avoiding the change it will all bring.
Meanwhile Danny just does increasingly ghostly things trying to get Dick to just ask him already.
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the moon will sing (time traveling tim)
so. i saw this super awesome post by @puppetwoman17 about time traveling tim drake and got obsessed, so here's a small ficlet i wrote about it!
The thing is, Tim expects it. He’s faintly aware of the blood seeping from his stomach, staining his hands red— hands which are uselessly putting pressure on his wound. If he survives this, he doesn’t even want to think of all the weeks of pure agony and fever, brought on by the wonderful lack of his spleen and the fact that healing from wounds sucked, period.
Death isn’t surprising— he really didn’t think he would live past, what, twenty-five? Thirty? To live until beyond 50 with his lifestyle was, well. It sounded painful, anyways. And you would need to be a deeply paranoid neurotic. Like Bruce. Because as much as he respected his father and looked up to him, if Tim turned out anything like Batman, he’d probably find a bullet through his brain sooner or later.
Half because Tim was reckless and his plans were so convoluted and insane that nobody really knew what was going on either, just to confuse his opponent. The other half was, well. You can guess.
So. He’s bleeding out, the night is uncomfortably cold and the wind bites into his skin, sand grating against his back, and all Tim can think about is how much he hopes Ra’s al-Ghul doesn’t show up like a damned wraith and drag him kicking and screaming to the nearest surgery table and take out his kidneys or something.
Tim’s also thinking about his family. And the probable inconveniences that come with his death. Like arranging his funeral and all his assets and his Nest and the fact that Tim is a very integral part of the family and Dick will probably fall apart and Bruce will mourn and brood, and, and damn it. Tim should probably revoke his thinking process or something.
—
Tim is twenty three years old when he bleeds to death alone, and nobody finds his body until three weeks later when his family has scoured the Earth and his distress signal rings, rings, but nobody sees it. His predictions about his family come true.
But that isn’t quite relevant, because Tim isn’t aware of such a thing.
Instead, Tim closes his eyes and falls and jerks up on his bed, clutching his chest as years of memories flood his brain, too much for a mere eleven year old. It feels like his head has been cracked open and molten lava had been poured through, scorching his veins and circulation. It feels like agony of the highest level and Tim is faintly aware of the darkness creeping in, his mind too overwhelmed and overstimulated from years of memories flooding into his brain.
And so for the second time in a few minutes and a lifetime, Tim welcomes unconsciousness with open arms.
The next few hours are spent in pure agony, his body being too weak to move and his limbs too short for him to coordinate. He’s pretty sure that there’s a pool of dried blood underneath him from a nosebleed, but he’s too tired to turn around, so he just uncomfortably shifts away from it. Not for the first time, he thanks his lucky stars that his parents are neglectful, because he doesn’t even know how he would explain all of this.
Two days later, he musters the strength to stumble out of bed, gulp down the bitter, carbon dioxide-filled water next to him and get to the kitchen. It’s April 1st, twelve years ago, Tim is eleven years old, and his family doesn’t know him yet.
Half of the terrible things that have happened to Dick haven’t happened yet. Jason hasn’t died yet. Duke is still a kid and his parents are healthy. Babs hasn’t been put into a wheelchair by the Joker.
Steph is still living with her father. Damian and Cass are being trained as assassins.
Mrs. Mac is due to come in a few hours. Tim looks at the blood-crusted covers of his bed and his crumpled clothes.
Oh, shoot.
So instead of researching or training, Tim spends the next hour trying to get the bedsheets off with his tiny, noodle arms, half stumbling on his feet because he’s way too damn short, and making his way to the bathroom so he can take a shower and get some of the blood off so it doesn’t stain too badly.
It’s probably a lost cause. Not that his parents will notice or care about a missing bedsheet, but it feels wasteful to just throw it away to hide evidence of his unintentional time travel.
Two and a half hours later, Tim stumbles out of the laundry room, his bedsheets and pillow finally in the washer. He collapses on the nearest chair and scans the room for his father’s computer.
He lets out a shaky breath. His family is generally unscarred. Jason is Robin again. Jason. The boy who Tim had held with a certain degree of, well, disdain. Thinking about it kind of makes him want to punch is past self in the face, or cringe in the way that you can only do when you think of something embarrassing you used to do. Like victim-blaming your older brother for getting beat to death while trying to find his mother.
It wasn’t the only way he looked at Jason, but he had always thought of him as too reckless. Maybe he really did deserve the beating. Well, not that he believed that young teenagers should be beat up by young adults in Robin cosplay, but at least Tim wasn’t exactly traumatized by the experience. Better him than some other poor civilian kid Bruce could’ve adopted.
And Tim did get his revenge. By getting Jason on his private parts. But whatever. Revenge was revenge, and Tim was better than the whole crime lord setup his older brother had. In practice, anyways.
Chewing on the ballpoint pen, he writes down the first thing on his list (in code, of course) since coming back in time.
prevent jason’s death
Well. Now that he had a comprehensive list, Tim was down and ready to plan.
—
A hour later, Mrs. Mac appears, none the wiser to what happened to him. Tim greets her as she walks in, and she smiles and greets him back, putting lunch in the fridge. She notices nothing wrong about how he stays sitting on the chair in the living room, and Tim says nothing about it. When she leaves, he pulls the piece of paper out of his book and the pen from his hair, scratching down some extra points.
Hmm. Maybe the Court of Owls should go early. Or perhaps that would create too much change?
Dick would have a better time in the future if they were gone, though. Tim frowns, dragging his pen back and forth in a short line on the table.
He still needed to factor in the fact that he was an unknown to the family. The thing is, Tim loves their dysfunctional, broken family and he knows Bruce and Dick loved him back. But to be honest, it would be easier to change events if he wasn’t being scrutinized by Bruce every day. And it wasn’t like Tim had any shortage of money, with his parents still alive and his family fortune enough to cover whole lifetimes, so he wasn’t worried about his own safety.
It would be nice to go to college too. Maybe Stanford. He was smart enough to make it, and the location was close to the vigiliante community that if he so wanted to, he could probably join and watch his family from the outskirts. Last time around, Tim just couldn’t leave Gotham. Being a vigiliante was his life— he couldn’t even justify it as a temporary thing anymore. Their family had gone through so much tragedy and Gotham was still filled with crime and Tim had an obligation to keep her safe. It just… he couldn’t escape his mantle because he loved it, and Tim had a difficult time letting things go once he loved them.
But if Tim could change things from the start, he didn’t need to be pulled back into the life. (He couldn’t have it, even if he loved it, because it was never his in the first place.) He could start anew, be a vigiliante when he was in college and far away from the family he hopefully would’ve fixed by then.
Well then. First things first, he needed to remove a factor from Jason’s death so he wouldn’t die in the first place.
—
Mrs. Mac comes by and cooks him lunch, and they eat in silence. Typically, Tim would fill the silence with chattering, glad to have someone to talk to in the empty manor. But Tim’s mind is whirring, drawing up and discarding plans. By the time Mrs. Mac stands up and tells him she’s going to leave now, Tim has thought of three contingencies and twelve more future events he needs to address.
He mhms when Mrs. Mac prompts him to, and eventually she leaves out the front door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. It’s spring break and Tim doesn’t actually have anything to do because he’s in middle school now, so he mulls over the Jason problem for a few more hours.
It comes to him when he’s microwaving the leftovers from lunch, and Tim is pretty sure he’s a genius, or something. Sheila Haywood worked at a refugee camp in Ethiopia handling medical supplies, but she was embezzling funds from the organization she was working for. It wouldn’t be difficult for Tim to trace it and report her. By the time Jason began tracking her down, she would most likely be in prison, just for a few years and everything would hopefully blow over and the Joker wouldn’t blackmail her because she had no use to him in prison.
It was cold, perhaps. But her life wouldn’t be over with a few years in prison, and Jason would be alive. Nothing more than they deserved.
Jason, alive. Then Damian, Cass, and Steph. He would see to his family, whole and happy. Then perhaps, in the future, when he was older and safely out of Bruce’s adoption zone, Tim could perhaps work with them. Laugh about how he never expected the Wayne family to be vigilantes, just to throw them off his trail.
Tim allows himself this one selfish thought, because he has nothing else but the shattered remains of a future that will never come to be, and a family he left behind but still exists.
a/n:
i wrote this in two hours under an inspired haze of time travel and tim, two of my favorite things
tim is a super unreliable narrator if you haven't already noticed lmao
also if i get any characterization wrong feel free to leave some discourse or ping me on the head
but like please be gentle cause y'know constructive crit, not bashing
thanks for reading! :D
#tim drake#batman#time travel#red robin#dc#oh my dear goodness#the plot bunnies#really thought I was out of my tim era#jk I’ll never be out of my tim era#anyways i'm a firm believer in tim#having the most insane plans out there#and nobody believes it#cause tim's this super logical#rational lookin guy#but he likes to show his insanity#once in a blue moon#tw blood#tw death#tw sui ideation#i'll prob post it on ao3 if i ever finish it#unreliable narrator tim lmao#fic ideas#my fics#plot bunny spinoffs#the moon will sing au#part 2 will come out… eventually
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