#Now he doesn't remember his time with the Waynes anymore

[bored-platypus]

swim in circles (sniper! tim)

au where tim's parents get kidnapped by obeah man earlier on but they survive. and he becomes a sniper. :)

inspired by @yjcorefourenjoyer's sniper! tim idea, who graciously let me run around in their sandbox. :D

Turns out, when you leave your child alone without a parental figure for months, you can’t integrate yourself back into their life and just pretend all is normal.

You never wanted to parent me before, Tim wants to scream. Why are you even pretending you care now?

But he says none of it, swallows it down his throat dry where it resides in his chest, thick and cloying like a good son. His parents narrowly escaped being killed. Tim is being selfish because he isn’t used to this. It’s fine.

Jack wants him to transfer to a nearby private school and live at home instead of boarding school so he and Mom can keep an eye on him, fine. Tim can adapt, take advantage of the fact that he’s home more to take pictures of Batman and Robin. 

So Tim is twelve years old when his father brings him to a shooting range and puts a hand on his shoulder. Some good ol’ father-son bonding, his dad claims. His dad is too scared to admit what the true purpose is; so Tim won’t be defenseless in case he’s kidnapped.

But it doesn’t matter whether his dad verbalizes it or not: Tim knows, so there’s no point in saying it out loud.

(For a brief moment, he thinks of becoming Robin, of fists and swinging staffs and acrobatics. Of following Batman’s no-kill rule.)

It’s a silly thought. Tim’s parents are very much alive, and his reality is this: gunpowder and cameras and slow, choking patience. Tim is athletic, but doesn’t exactly make a point to get into fights— if he’s attacked, he would have the best chance with a gun.

But for the next few months, Tim drowns under his father’s expectations and his mother’s worried and guilty gaze. The knot in his chest tightens until he struggles for air, and Tim needs something, needs to get out of the house, needs to do something other than follow Batman and Robin because his parents keep checking on him in the middle of the night.

Tim flounders, kicks fruitlessly at the waters until another weekend, when his father brings him out again and he adjusts his stance, aligns his handgun, and waits until his hands are steady.

It doesn’t take long until he speeds through a fire safety certificate test and all but owns his father’s 9mm pistol.

For the first time in what feels like forever, Tim breathes.

It’s a hobby his father supports and something his mother, who sits in her wheelchair, loosens the furrow in her brow for. Before he goes, she quietly brushes her hand over his hair. Remember your gun safety, Tim, she says, and he nods before heading out for another lesson.

Really damn good, his instructor says, and Tim smiles, because his arms are getting used to the recoil and Tim has one of the highest accuracies among all the teens in the class, even if he takes a little longer than everyone.

But it’s no matter: Tim has experience with being patient.

It doesn't take long for Tim to start bringing his handgun out with him while he goes birdwatching. It takes even shorter for Tim to start eyeing the bolt-action rifles jealously, thinking of how much farther he could take it, what he could do. Eighteen years old, he chants, eighteen years old.

Except when Tim turns thirteen, Jason dies. Batman grieves his son’s death in a way that leaves Gotham a bloody, destructive swathe of pain. And Tim can’t just watch, anymore. He goes to Dick, pleas in his mouth, begging him to see that Batman needs a Robin. 

It doesn’t work. And now Two-Face has Bruce and Dick, and Tim has nothing but his 9mm pistol and the location of the Wayne manor. Alfred looks down at him, lips pursed in hesitation, and Tim knows, knows that Robin doesn’t use guns, knows that it would be an abomination to Bruce’s values and Dick’s legacy but he doesn't know what else to do. 

“Please,” he begs.

Surprisingly, it is easier to convince Alfred that he can protect himself with a gun. Tim suspects that Batman will have a different reaction.

–

Bruce and Dick are safe, Two-Face is safely in jail, and Bruce looks at his guns with poorly concealed suspicion and apprehension. And that’s the crux of the matter: Tim uses guns, Robin does not. Tim cannot be Robin, not with his parents so closely around and his only method of protecting himself being a lethal weapon. The worst part is, it all feels like a waste. The hours at the shooting range, his father’s proud smile, his rising accuracy rates, and it sucks, because Tim doesn’t want to feel this way. 

Tim never meant to be Robin. But he needs to become Robin now and Tim has never trained in hand-to-hand combat or swung a staff before. His way out has become another trap, and Tim has never shot a dart gun before, nor is it sustainable to use tranq darts. 

Funny. Tim never seems to be given a choice. But he can’t complain, so he does the next best thing. Tim throws himself into convincing Bruce, tries to prove that he can be Robin, even if he’s fighting a losing battle. There’s really only one way Bruce will accept, and Tim knows it. 

He screams until his voice is hoarse after Batman nearly dies, but he can't be Robin, not until he gives up Tim Drake. Timothy Jackson Drake holds tightly onto a hope that isn't sustainable, thinks of his father who looks at him in the eye and makes him promise that he'll keep his life over everybody else's.

TIm is selfish and he’s drowning again, but so is Gotham.

–

“Tim.”

His dad looks angry, flickers of worry shining from behind his eyes. Tim knows he’s been acting suspicious: too many bruises on his legs and cuts on his arm, coming home later than usual.

Tim shrugs self-deprecatingly. 

“Please, dad? I know it’s not what you want but it’s getting to be a lot and I need to move around my schedule to fit in more.”

“Tim… This wasn't brought on because the boys in your class have been roughhousinging you because you’re better, right?”

“No! It’s not, it’s not,” Tim shakes his head, face burning with mortification. That would be so embarrassing. It seems so juvenile, quitting because he was bothered by the envious comments, rather than quitting because he wanted to take on a vigilante mantle that had a fifty percent mortality rate to make sure Batman didn’t go off his rocker. 

Tim is so grounded when his dad finds out. His father sighs, running a hand through his hair, and Tim guiltily shrinks under his gaze. 

“You spent so long practicing,” his father accuses. There’s the hidden panic Tim was expecting. “I really thought you were into it, Tim.”

Tim flinches. 

“It’s not that,” he mumbles, trying not to feel like he’s wasted so much of his and his father’s time. “I’m just not that interested anymore and…”

And the truth is, Tim hates this choice. But it’s still his decision, to pick up Robin and put down Tim Drake. He goes for the low blow.

“Let me make my own choice for once, okay? You always want me to do this and that and I’m trying, but I want some space to figure out what I like instead of just balancing what you want in favor of what I want.”

His dad freezes, frustration playing out over his features, but Tim knows he’s won this one. 

“I’m going to check up on your mom. I don’t want to talk about this tonight, but we are talking about this.” I can’t stand talking to you right now.

It’s fine, because Tim has won. 

The situation will blow over, and Tim will prove that he can protect himself in other ways, to both his father and Bruce.

And once again his reality shifts: swinging fists and lies and the fast, spiraling rapids of life.

He thinks of steady hands and the quiet click to the loud bang of a gun. He will wait it out, he foolishly thinks. He has practice being patient.

a/n:

so basically this could go a NUMBER of ways, holy. i had so many plans that i derailed and thought over and whatnot

i originally was going to go for tim being a sniper wayyy earlier, like shooting bruce with tranqs post-jason death (which, by the way, tim would've gone through SO many hoops for that, dude is way too tiny to pass as over 18 and has to be a pretty damn good liar to his parents), never becoming robin (prob would've become a vigilante, just with guns)

but oh man in this version i haven't even GOTTEN to sniper! timmy yet...

also! discussed another cool idea with my wonderful beta @pinkcowzz about reverse robins where tim comes back from the dead as a sniper would also be fun. there are many ways that this au could branch out lmao

#tim drake #sniper! tim drake #tim drake is a huge liar lmao #unreliable narrator ofc #red robin #tw gun #plot bunny spinoffs #my writing #title from the song hope by roar #btw i know nothing about guns #so if anything is inaccurate please tell me lmao #jack drake #janet drake #bruce wayne #batman #lots of metaphors for drowning #weirdly felt like it fit sniper! tim ig? #might finish this up with more parts... eventually #somehow stuffed twenty motifs in here #lowkey wanna post a reverse robins snippet of this au

[stevesbipanic]

Eddie was scared.

The room was bright and the walls a pale blue, the AC was running combatting the summer heat. He was sat in the corner having been left in this room a few minutes ago.

"Hello! Do you want to colour with me?"

The young boy who'd been sitting at the short table by the couch had seemed to notice his presence. Eddie glared at him, he wanted to be left alone.

"Why are you angry? Do you not know how to colour?"

That was a stupid question, of course Eddie knew how to colour. Sometimes Mrs Martin across the street would watch him and she always had crayons for her grandkids.

"I know how to colour," he replied sternly not moving from his spot.

The other boy brightened at this however, "Then come colour with me! I'm not very good at staying between the lines but I'm getting better! Miss Sarah always has colours in here."

Miss Sarah had been the one to bring Eddie here, she'd told him to wait while she made a phone call. Begrudgingly, Eddie stood up and plopped down next to the boy.

"Do you come here often? You said you colour a lot?" Eddie asked picking up the big red crayon for his picture of a truck, it kinda looked like his dad's truck but that was blue. Eddie didn't want it to look like his dad's truck.

The other boy nodded, his mood seemed to dim at the question, "Yeah, I missed too many days of school this time so they called Miss Sarah. But it's not my fault the bus doesn't go by my house and it's too far to walk!"

"Doesn't your mom drive you?" This boy seemed like the kind to have a mom, his clothes didn't have any holes in them like Eddie's.

"When she's home, she's usually away with my dad though, but I'm glad when he's gone, he yells a lot."

Eddie nodded at the admission, his dad yelled a lot too.

"They took my dad away, and I don't have a mom anymore," Eddie said, his eyes began to itch.

The other boy put down his crayon and moved around the table wrapping his arms around Eddie, "It's ok, Miss Sarah will help you, I promise."

"Why hasn't she helped you?" Eddie asked, if Miss Sarah was so good why was this boy always here?

Before the boy could answer, Miss Sarah returned, "Eddie, sweetheart, your uncle is here, you'll be staying with him from now on ok?" Eddie hadn't seen his uncle in years but he could remember that his truck was a bright red colour.

"Really? Uncle Wayne is here!"

"Yep, he's already got your backpack so you can see him now."

Eddie got up quickly, he stopped at the doorway as Miss Sarah continued, "Steve, I'm sorry honey but your dad's lawyer got involved again, he's here to pick you up." Steve, at least Eddie knew his name now, nodded sadly like he'd expected this answer.

"That's ok Miss Sarah, you tried," she knelt down to him giving him a big hug, "Next time you call the number I gave you right away ok?"

"I'll try Miss Sarah, the phone isn't always on."

Miss Sarah led the boys out of the room to the waiting room. Eddie's uncle stood up immediately opening his arms which Eddie ran to.

"I'm sorry son, if I'd have known I'd have come got you years ago. Your daddy ain't hurting you no more." Eddie squeezed him tighter. As he and his uncle passed by Steve he gave him a smile and a wave.

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing this was Steven? We'll be having a long discussion about this when we get home." Steve looked like he needed that smile.

Years later, when they were grown Eddie would find a carefully folded piece of paper amongst the other knick knacks the kids had given Steve over the years. He unfolded it to find a bright red truck.

"You kept it?"

"Had to give myself hope she'd help me like she helped you, plus your dimples were adorable."

It may have taken awhile, but eventually both boys found themselves a happy home.

#tw child neglect #tw child abuse #tw social work #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #pre steddie #theyre kids #ficlet

[luveline]

For Eddie and Roan, can you write a ficlet where Roan wakes up sick and goes to Eddie's bed to wake him up and tell him she doesn't feel good and he's worried and takes her temperature and sees that she's fever, so he stays at home taking care of her?

eddie and roan ♡

Roan's head feels heavy as a bowling ball. She focuses very hard on not falling over, and so she doesn't realise you're awake and sitting up until she's climbing onto the bottom of your bed. 

“Hey, princess,” you whisper, holding your finger to your lips, “daddy's still sleeping.” 

She loves you, but she ignores you. She loves you, capital L, but she needs her dad. You don't try to stop her, the book on your thighs closing as you let your hiked knees fall. “Ro?” you ask. 

“Dad,” she whines, “I need you to be awake.” 

Eddie puts his hand up to her face. Roan groans and tips her head back as he feels along her head to the soft crop of hair at the base of her neck. “Why?” he asks hoarsely, pulling her in blindly.  

Parcelled against his chest, Roan can hardly breathe. “Daddy,” she says urgently. 

He lifts his head on the pillow, eyes peeled back painstakingly slowly. “What's the matter, Ro?” 

She knew he'd know there was something wrong. Her dad knows everything even when he says he doesn't, and her eyes fizzle with tears in the gentle embrace of his arm. He rubs her back accordingly. “What's wrong, baby?” he asks, adopting his softest of tones. 

Roan hides her face in his chest shyly. “I feel bad…” 

Eddie feels suddenly and extremely worried at the sight of her. He panics hard, heart in his mouth sort of panic, but then you touch his elbow and he remembers he's not doing it alone anymore. 

“What kind of sick?” he asks. 

Roan curls into her pill bug shape on top of him and cries about her head feeling weird and her tummy aching. He puts his hand on her stomach and finds it bloated despite it being rather small otherwise. He has no idea what it means, but he assures her it'll be okay the way he always does, murmurs said between teeny kisses pressed to her temple and his fingers raking down through her hair one rumpled curl at a time. 

Your second alarm rings. 

You get dressed quickly and Eddie doesn't move. He knows he can't go to work, not when she's like this. He can't imagine sending her to school, and can't imagine leaving her home this sort of sick without him. He remembers all those years ago feeling sick as a dog wishing Wayne could stay home just to keep him company, and he remembers being smaller, his mom on the couch, his sweaty head in her lap.  

You hop into one of your socks, smiling at him over her head. He smiles back. What can you do? it says. 

Perfume sprayed, hair done, you stand in the doorway brushing your teeth. “I can go get you some stuff before I go to work if I rush. Sorry, I wasn't thinking. She likes the cream of mushroom soup, right? Or is it cream of chicken?” 

“Both. Mushroom’s her favourite. And white rice. And cranberry juice.” 

“I know she wants cranberry juice,” you say around a mouthful of froth, waving your hand, “don't insult me, Eds.” 

He feels her forehead. She'd felt warm enough to guess she was sick, but her forehead is ember hot. “Aw, god,” he says, sitting up despite his twinging back, Roan held tight to his chest. “Can you get me a hand towel? Soak it in some cold water?” 

“Sure thing,” you say, rushing off. 

“This isn't cool, Ro, you weren't gonna tell me you're a human furnace? Thought we told each other everything?” he asks, brushing her hair back from her face. 

“I'm hot,” she says. 

He taps the tip of her nose. Her eyes focus on his finger, so he figures she'll be okay for now. “I know. I can feel it.” He'll hold a cold hand towel to her head for a bit to give her the chance to calm down, and if she doesn't cool he'll give her a lukewarm bath. There will be things to do, taking her temperature, calling the school, calling the doctor, rubbing her small back, but he's done it before. He can handle it without you. 

“I'm just a phone call away, okay?” you say, passing him the wrung towel carefully. “If you need anything, just call me.” You kiss his cheek, then Roan's. “Promise?” 

“I'll call you,” he says honestly. “But we'll be okay, won't we, babe?” 

Roan mumbles something unintelligible. Eddie's pretty sure she's saying we'll be fine. 

#eddie and roan #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson scenario #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

[unclewaynemunson]

CW for body issues and negative thoughts surrounding weight gaining

Cold autumn air has fallen over Hawkins for the first time in months. Steve reaches into the back of his closet to find his favorite sweater, the dark red one that his grandmother made him when he was in his junior year. The wool still feels just as soft in his hands as it was last year.

He pulls it over his head, welcoming the warmth it immediately gives off around him, but it feels tighter than he remembers it being. He pulls and adjusts the fabric, then gives himself a critical look in the mirror, and - fuck. It must've shrunk somehow. He messed up his favorite sweater.

But... The last time he wore it, on that one cold night at the end of April, it still fit him perfectly. He remembers that night clearly: they were all sitting around a campfire in the trailer park for Wayne's birthday, and Eddie had kept looking at him like that sweater was causing all kinds of unholy thoughts - partly the reason why it's Steve's favorite.

The sweater can't possibly have shrunk lying unused in the back of his closet for months. It didn't shrink; Steve has grown.

Suddenly, he looks at himself in the mirror and sees a whole other person. He zeroes in on all kinds of details he had never paid much attention to before, and he wonders how he could've ever missed what was happening to him: his expanding belly, the fat that has gathered around his hips, his stretched-out thighs... His upper legs are looking more chubby than muscled now that he stopped swimming regularly, and his sweater is tight around his upper arms and too narrow over his belly, the imprint of his belly button clearly visible in the stretched-out fabric.

He has no idea for how long he has been staring at himself when the bedroom door opens and Eddie comes in, still roughly brushing a towel over his wet hair. He's wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Again, Steve wonders how he could ever have missed the way his body changed, especially next to Eddie: Eddie, who has always been lean, on the verge of being scrawny, his ribs almost visible underneath his tattooed skin and not a single curve in sight.

Eddie freezes in his tracks when he notices Steve, his eyes hovering over the red sweater. Steve feels caught, exposed under Eddie's gaze. He must be coming to the same conclusion that Steve had reached a minute before: that Steve's best days are behind him. That he's getting fat and that his body will only deteriorate further from now on. That he stopped taking good care of himself. That he's only going to get uglier with age.

'Sorry,' he's quick to say when Eddie won't stop staring. He turns his body away from Eddie's gaze, and starts rummaging around in his closet to find something with a looser fit. 'I didn't realize it wouldn't fit anymore, I'm gonna get changed right away. I suppose the red isn't really your color, but you can have it if you want to, I'm sure it'll fit you perfectly.'

He feels hands grabbing the underside of the sweater from behind.

'No.'

'What?'

He turns around, facing Eddie again, who now fists his hands into the sides of the fabric instead.

'Don't you dare take this off. Only one person is allowed to do that from now on, and that person is me.' There's a look in Eddie's eyes that Steve only recognizes from very different settings, like when he used to get home after a run all sweaty, or when one of them sinks to his knees in front of the other.

'What is happening?' he mumbles under his breath.

'You, in this tight sweater?' Eddie's voice is low and breathy. 'You are a fucking dream, Steve Harrington.'

Steve takes a step backwards, but Eddie's hands stay plastered right where they are.

'Are you making a fool of me?'

Eddie frowns and he finally lets his grip on Steve's sweater go.

'Why would you think that?'

Steve huffs, needlessly gestures to his own body. 'I look ridiculous!' he points out, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. 'It doesn't fit anymore, I let myself get fat, I'm getting old and ugly, I–'

With one step, Eddie is right in front of Steve again, shutting him up by placing his index finger against Steve's lips.

'Not another word,' he says. 'I don't want to hear you talk like that about yourself ever again. You got it all wrong, you know. I mean, don't get me wrong, you were already hella sexy in your jock days, but your soft pillow belly is, like, the closest one can get to heaven here on earth.'

It should be too much, it should sound insincere because of how dramatic it is - but Steve is used to Eddie's dramatics and he can see that Eddie is being one hundred percent serious right now.

'You are the sexiest man I know, and every pound you've gained is a beautiful one. You are gorgeous, Steve – and you will keep being gorgeous and sexy in every shape you'll get.' His hands are roaming over Steve's sweater again, comforting and hungry at the same time. 'I do have to ask you not to wear this sweater outside of our house, though. It'll cause riots. People might die because of it.'

He looks dead serious saying it, and Steve can't help but laugh before he tugs Eddie closer and presses their lips together.

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #i saw people wanted the s2 red sweater to make an appearance again so here we go i guess #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fruity ficlet #tw body issues #tw body image #tw weight #(lemme know if i forgot a tw please)

[steveshairychest]

Time travel au where Steve is the last one to go through the gate in Eddie's trailer, except when he comes out, he's not in his Hawkins anymore. Instead of being greeted by the sight of his friends safe and sound and Wayne's mug collection, he's standing in some random guys trailer.

He gets shoved out the front door and into the strange new world that is undoubtedly Hawkins, but not the Hawkins he remembers.

Everything feels wrong. The people look strange in their weird clothes and a lady across the park screams into a flat rectangle in her hand. The trailers look the same but there's something about them that's definitely wrong. Some guy blows smoke in his face while walking past and instead of the gross smell of cigarette he was expecting, it smells sweet, almost like strawberries. He's so fucking confused. He knows he's causing a scene by walking around gaping at everything, but what else is he supposed to do? Steal a car and drive off? He's never seen cars like this in his entire life!! Do they even work the same way?!

Maybe he has a concussion. Maybe this is his version of a vecna hallucination.

And then things only get more confusing when a little girl runs over to him and beams up at Steve like they've been best friends forever. "Hi, Mr Harrington! Why are you here?" She can't be older than 9.

Why does this little girl know him? He stares at her and his confusion must show because she tilts her head and frowns. "Are you okay, Mr Harrington?"

She keeps calling him Mr Harrington, is he a teacher here? Oh god, does that mean there's another version of himself running around here?! Wherever here is.

"I'm... fine. I'm just a little lost." He walks away before he scares the poor girl with his rising hysterics. Steve knows these roads like the back of his hand, he's driven them his entire life, but he takes a million wrong turns because there's suddenly so many new streets he's never even heard of. Where there should be a huge clearing, there is now a building so high Steve swears it touches the sky and the tree him and Robin used to have picnics under is now gone and replaced with a parking lot filled with more weird cars.

"What the fuck? What the fuck?!" Steve finally makes it to where his house should be and there's... nothing. It's just a block of land for sale. It tips him over the edge. He can't remember the last time he cried but right now he is balling and hiccuping as he stumbled down the street he grew up on. But it's wrong. It's all so wrong. People drive past and give him weird looks, a lady even stops jogging and takes out the tiny earplugs that play music so loud Steve can hear it, and asks if he's OK. "No, I'm not. This isn't real. This isn't real!"

It has to be vecna. He's got him. That's why he's stuck in this nightmare. "You have to play music! Give me your plug things! Make them play anything! Get me out of here." The woman refuses and does nothing but stand there in shock as Steve sinks down to the sidewalk and starts singing Everybody Wants to Rule The World as loud as he can.

"I'm calling 911. You need help." Steve doesn't hear her. He's singing so loud people are starting to come out of their houses to see what's going on but that doesn't matter to him. This isn't real. Vecna has him and he needs to get out.

When the ambulance pulls up, Steve's run out of tears. He's cried himself dry and he's resigned to the fact that any minute now, Vecna is going to snap his arms and legs. "I'm ready." He says quietly to no one but himself. He'd rather it be him than any of his friends. He knows they are probably watching him and trying to bring him back but it's too late. He can't hear the music they're playing.

"Steve?" A familiar voice drags him out of his own head, but it can't be real. He heard that voice take its final breath just mere minutes ago, he can still feel his drying blood under his fingernails. Steve lifts his head and there he is, it's Eddie, no doubt about it. His long hair is tied up in a bun and his eyes are sparkling with worry as he crouches down in front of Steve. It's then that Steve realises Eddie is in full paramedic gear and he's pulling all sorts of things out of a bag to check on Steve.

"Eddie, you're alive." He whispers in disbelief as Eddie checks him for any head injuries. "Where are we? How do we leave?"

Eddie pulls back and there's panic behind his eyes as he slowly helps Steve to his feet and gestures to his partner to grab the stretcher. "Steve, love, I need you to tell me what happened. Why aren't you at work?"

At work? What is Eddie going on about? And did he just call Steve love?!!

"Eddie, this isn't real. I need to leave. I can't stay here with you." He says it slowly so that Eddie understands. He may be some figment of Steve's weird dream imagination and he doesn't want to freak the poor guy out by telling him he's actually dead.

Eddie breathes in and out, his hands a little shaky as he helps Steve onto the ambulance stretcher. His partner helps get Steve set up in the back of the ambulance before they're driving off. Eddie reaches out and holds Steve's hand gently, the gesture surprising but not unwelcome. "Steve, baby, this is very much real life. You're in Hawkins. It's March 21st, 2023. Your name is Steve Harrington, remember?"

"Wait, what?!" Steve tries to sit up but Eddie gently pushes him back down. They hit a bump in the road and Eddie swears softly under his breath about his partner's driving. "It's not 1986?!" He's panicking. He can feel his heart rate spike and his breathing starts to quicken. Eddie tells him to stay calm and just breathe in and out but Steve can't hear him.

Maybe this really isn't Vecna. He'd be dead by now if Vecna had him and Eddie's touch feels too real to be a dream.

Before he knows it, his vision is going spotty and then he's out; the panic and absolute absurdity of it all finally getting to him.

"You'll be okay, Stevie."

Except this isn't the Steve Eddie knows and loves. His Steve, his darling husband, is currently having a dilemma of his own back in 1986.

#HELLO MY SWEET DEAR LOVELY PEOPLE !! #I HAVENT PROOF READ THIS #ENJOY #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #st4 vol2 #stranger things s4 #steveddie

[hairmetal666]

cw// cancer mentioned, no character death

Eddie's moving to Chicago with his boyfriend and their best friend.

Eddie's moving to Chicago and it feels like everything is finally coming together.

Eddie's moving to Chicago, Steve Harrington is his boyfriend, and his life is starting.

Eddie's moving to Chicago, but then Wayne gets sick.

He tells Steve that he can't leave, not yet, needs to take care of his uncle.

And Steve, his Steve, perfect Steve, says with no hesitation, "I'll stay. Eddie, I'll stay with you. We'll go in six months. Together, that's the plan."

But Eddie can't let Steve do that; Steve who is everything bright and good and right in the world. Steve needs to get out, even if Eddie can't.

He insists Steve go, insists so hard that Steve can only agree, though Eddie can tell it's killing him.

Before they leave, Steve and Eddie cling to each other.

"Six months, baby. Just six months and then I'll be with you."

"I'll stay, Eds. Let me stay for you?"

"Not in a million years. What's six months in a lifetime together?"

"You mean that?" Steve whispers, the words tickling against Eddie's neck.

"Of course, sweetheart. Never meant anything more in my life."

They cling harder, crying against each other, despite it being goodbye for now and not forever.

They haven't said "I love you" yet, and the words hang on his tongue as the embrace ends, but he can't say it now; not when six months of time and 200-plus miles will separate them.

Except Wayne isn't better in six months. He's not worse, but the cancer's still there, he's still sick. And Eddie can't leave.

Eddie figured something like this would happen. Knew in the back of his mind that Steve and Robin and Chicago were never anything but a pipe dream.

When he calls Steve, he thinks he's ready.

"Okay, so Hopper's letting us borrow his truck, but he needs to know our timeline. You think next Saturday--"

"Steve." He says. His stomach clenches.

"What's wrong?" Because Steve knows, like he always does.

"Wayne's not better."

Steve is silent for a beat. "Okay...that's okay. I'll come back. Right now. Tonight. We'll do this tog--"

"You know I can't let you do that."

"Eddie--"

"No, Steve, don't. Okay? Let's just. It's time, you know?"

"It's not. Eddie, it isn't. Don't do this. Please, please," Steve cries.

"It's for the best. I know you can't see it now, but it is. You need to live your life, Stevie. Get that degree. Be someone."

"Eddie," Steve sobs. "Please. You have to know that I lo--"

"Don't," Eddie snarls. Doesn't mean to but can't hear those words, the three that will break him in two. "This is for the best, Steve. A clean break, yeah?"

"No." And Eddie hears Steve shuffling on the other end, like he's getting up. "I'm not letting you do this. I'm coming back, and we're doing this together. A lifetime, remember?"

Eddie's crying now, can't help it. "Please, don't. Steve, just--it's over, okay? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't do this anymore."

He hangs up the phone before Steve can argue, cries himself to sleep.

5 Years Later

Eddie never gets over Steve Harrington. His golden boy, the brave, perfect, kind, bratty man who has his whole heart.

Wayne is okay. Will never not have cancer, but he's doing good. And Eddie runs a record store in the town over. Visits some bars in Indy when he feels a certain kind of lonely. He's settled, finally, is the thing. He's settled and happy enough, so of course, that's when it happens.

He's at the grocery store, stopped in produce. There's a little girl, maybe 3 or 4--bright pink shirt, chestnut hair, little overalls--sitting in a cart by the tomatoes.

The sight of her sparks something in Eddie's chest, but he doesn't understand what or why, and then she's pointing at him, smiling and wiggling. "Daddy!" She shrieks.

That's when Steve Harrington swoops around the corner, reaching for the girl, his daughter, and Eddie takes a step away, ready to run from this.

The girls says, "That's the boy in all your pictures." She giggles and points at Eddie more. Steve blushes, and Eddie's assaulted by so many things all at once he thinks he may pass out.

"Stevie," he hears himself saying.

Steve freezes, looks at Eddie, so much knowing in those hazel eyes it makes him a little sick. But it still surprises him when Steve pulls him into a hug. Being in those arms again, It's like everything keeping him together falls apart. He sinks into the hold, breathes in deep, feels like home.

It shouldn't, though. Steve's got a kid. Probably a wife. Can't have his ex-boyfriend falling apart in his arms in the grocery store. Eddie disengages, steps back a little. Steve blinks, eyelashes fluttering, and Eddie is still so in love with him it hurts.

"I should--I should go," he mumbles, gripping at the back of his neck like it's a lifeline. The little girl giggles more, bouncing in her seat, and he's overcome with fondness. Can't help but give her an exaggerated bow as he goes.

He makes himself walk to the end of the aisle, but once he's left Steve behind, he runs.

That night, when a knock comes at his door, nothing prepares him for a sheepish Steve Harrington standing on the other side.

"Sorry to drop by unannounced," Steve says, manners still impeccable. "Wayne gave me your address. I'm glad--I'm glad he's doing okay, Eddie."

Eddie's too astonished to respond, nods for a few seconds before, "Th-thanks. Uhh, you wanna come in?"

Steve does and then they're in Eddie's little living room together and what the fuck is he supposed to do?

"Where's the kid?" he asks. He gestures Steve to the couch.

Steve smiles, a soft thing that's a knife to Eddie's heart. "Oh, I left her with Robin. They'll be fine for a few hours. Her name's Ellie, by the way. Ellie Jane Harrington."

"She knows who I am?" Eddie asks.

"Course. I told her about everyone. Showed her pictures. I hoped she could meet you one day."

"Yeah?" Eddie can't stand the thing that unfurls in his chest, blooming with love, so much care it aches in his teeth. "I swear next time I won't run away."

Steve laughs, hazel eyes fond in a way that Eddie can't look at for too long. "You didn't run away, Eds. It was a weird--reunion."

Eddie chuckles, pulls hair over his face. "A little bit. Not every day you run into your ex and his daughter scoping out tomatoes."

"I was hoping to give you a call, ask you out to dinner, or something. Not my kid recognizing you at Bradley's Big Buy."

"You wanna take me out to dinner, Stevie?" He asks before he can think better of it. Steve blushes red, and god Eddie missed him.

"Thought it might be nice, yeah. Get to know each other again."

It's Eddie turn to blush. "Why are you here?" He asks, good of a segue as any.

"Here, like, in your apartment, or here in Hawkins?"

"Both."

"I'm--uh--the new counselor at Hawkins High. Might coach the basketball team."

"But--Chicago," is all Eddie can say.

Steve laughs. "It was fun for a while, but--I don't know, man, it got hard with a kid. Joyce told me about the job opening and I decided to try."

"And Ellie's mom?" Eddie doesn't want to ask, can't stand not knowing.

Steve's eyes fall. "Ah," his hands squeeze into fists. "She's not in the picture. Never really was. After--" he takes a deep breath. "After we broke up, I sort of. Lost myself for awhile. Slept around. One night, I got this call saying that a baby had been surrendered at a fire station, my name listed as the father."

"Oh, sweetheart. I bet you didn't hesitate."

Steve stares at his hands, smiles. "Not for a second. I cried when I saw her, Eds. Just fucking sobbed. She was so beautiful. Then I had to figure out how to raise a kid and finish school."

"But you did it." Eddie can't hide that he's crying anymore.

Steve nods, is crying too.

"I'm really proud of you, sweetheart," Eddie whispers.

They look at each other, tear stained and sad but somehow so happy, and Steve leans forward, presses his mouth to Eddie's. He freezes, shocked to stillness, overwhelmed with the thing he never thought he'd have again.

Steve pulls back, face red and eyes wide. "I'm so sorry. I got it in my head--" he stands, fumbling for his keys. "I should have never--you told me we were done and I know you meant it. But I saw you in the grocery store and I thought, you know, I'm never getting over him. I'm so stup--"

"Steve, wait" Eddie snaps out of it all at once, hurrying to where the man he's never stopped loving is shoving his feet inexpertly into his shoes.

"Don't leave," he says, almost whispering. "Please don't leave. Steve, I'm so, so sorry for how I ended things. I was so young and stupid, and--I didn't want you to lose your dreams for me."

Steve turns then, tears trickling down his cheeks. "You were my dream, Eds. You still are. I should have come back, made you let me stay. But I thought--maybe your feelings had changed. That you didn't--that you weren't--"

Eddie can't help it, pulls Steve into his arms. "I was. I am. You're all I've ever wanted." He presses his face to Steve's hair, breathes in deep. "I loved you then. I love you now. I've loved you every day in between."

"I love you," Steve sobs. "I love you so much."

They kiss, lips slotting together like they never stopped. It's salty with tears, but it's perfect. It's them.

Their mouths part, but they stay in each other's orbit; need the proximity after years apart.

"I have a kid now, Eddie," Steve says into the silence between them.

"Yeah," Eddie nods. "She's beautiful. Looks like her dad."

Steve smiles, flushes again. "She needs stability in her life, you know? She's my priority. Always will be. And if I--if this--"

Eddie knows. Understands his boy just as well now as he did back then. "We'll take it as slow as you need, baby. I want to be there for both of you. When you're ready. And until then, I'll be wherever you need me."

More tears escape Steve's eyes, but Eddie brushes them away. "We have a lifetime to figure it out."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #oneshot #break up #second chance at love #reconnection #mutual pining #angst #angst with a happy ending #girl dad steve harrington #steve harrington has a kid #good nephew eddie munson #wayne has cancer #getting back together #eventually ellie calls eddie daddy and everyone cries #soft #a little bit of fluff amongst the heartache

[upsidedownmvnson]

my hero | eddie munson

“Eddie,” you whisper, stolen phone held close to your face as you look around the room. He hasn’t picked up the phone and you're afraid he wont answer, but he does, he always does.

“Eddie!” you whisper again, relieved but still in fight or flight. “I’m at a party.”

“Y/N? what the hell? It’s like 3AM, Wayne was asleep…”

“Eddie listen, please. You have to help me I don’t feel real anymore.”

“You don’t feel real?” his frustration quickly dissolved, as it always did with you, and replaced with only concern. Wayne too.

“Will you help me, please?” you sounded so small. Eddie was already putting on his jacket, listening to you intently as you babbled about your fuzzy head.

“Babe, I need you to breath, okay? It’s just me and you talking, ya? Just take a breath, and tell me where to go, and I’ll come okay? I’m coming right now, just tell me where to go, baby.”

When he finally coerced enough of an answer from you, he was out the door, rushing to your aid. He was speeding down deserted streets to get to you, sick with worry. He felt like this was somehow his fault.

You guys were friends because you tutored him. At first he hated it, but he grew to like you... a lot... so he kept going, just to spend time with you. And you guys had been working together earlier when you dropped a bomb that some basketball prick had asked you out to this stupid house party - the one he was currently rescuing him from - and it had led to a small fight. Eddie didn't remember exactly what he said but it was something along of the lines of "don't come crawling to me when he doesn't call you back."

Eddie was just jealous, and he knew that. He should've just told you the truth, but instead he just got mad, defensive. He really had no right and he knew that, as far as he knew, you got paid to tutor him. Paid to be in his life.

He parked like shit and ran into the house, looking for you. He drew everyone's eyes, but he didn't care. He figured you'd be in a bedroom, since there was no one by the phone in the kitchen. His heart raced as he ran up the stairs, opening every door without hesitation.

He knocked on one door and was met with you yelling, "go away!"

Thank fuck, he thought, knocking again. "It's me, it's Eddie."

The door flew open a second later, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Eddie guided you back into the room and closed the door.

"You came," you cried, pushing your face deeper into his chest. He melted into you, wrapping his arms around your an holding you close. You were fine, you were with him. His hands soothed you, spreading warmth everywhere they touched you.

"Of course I came," Eddie said, like it was an obvious thing. "What happened?"

"Too many drinks," you mumbled, squeezing him tighter. "You were right," you cried, "he never called."

"I wasn't right," he said, quietly. "I'm sorry I was so mean to you."

"S'ok Eddie," you mumbled, you pulled back from him enough to look up at his face. He looked so soft, eyes filled with worry and care for you. Your tear stained cheeks made his chest tighten, and he wished he could take away your pain, and sadness. "He never called, or picked me up so I just came by myself," you explained, eyes welling up with more tears, making the knife in Eddie's chest spun. "And made friends with some girls and had some drinks and then, and then-" you choked on a little cry.

"Then what, sweetheart?" Eddie cupped your cheeks, brushing his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, clearing them of the wild tears, leaving flushed skin across your cheeks and nose. His hands found place on either side of your face, gently forcing you to look up at him. Every move was tender and comforting.

"Then Chance showed up with his friends and they all laughed at me," you pushed yourself back into his chest, your shoulders rising and falling with frantic crying. Eddie just held you, keeping you close and giving any comfort he can. His own eyes got hazy just from hearing your sad little whimpers.

"Will you take me home?" you mumbled, slightly muffled by his chest.

"Yeah," he said, "course, sweetheart. Let me just..." He pulled away to properly wipe all the tears off your cheeks.

You looked up at him again, and he felt his heart melt. He had a big crush on you, and he already knew that, but it had manifested by teasing you while you tried to help him with algebra. But it was different now, he still wanted to do that, but he also wanted to hold you, love you, know you. Even with tear stained cheeks and shitty guest room lighting, you still looked beautiful.

Eddie wondered what rumours would fly around the school as you led him by the hand out the front door. All eyes were on the two of you, but you didn't seem bothered by it. In fact, he was surprised about how casually you connected yourself to him in front of all these people. Eddie wasn't exactly popular, but you never seemed to treat him different from anyone else.

He couldn't stop thinking all of these nice things about you as he walked towards to van.

"Thanks for coming, Eddie," you said again, as he opened the passenger door for you.

As you climbed in he said, "Anytime, babe."

You had to wonder if he knew that he was sending butterflies on a rampage in your stomach everytime he called you sweetheart, or baby. If you were honest with him, you should've stopped tutoring him months ago. You'd stopped tutoring when you got a job at the bowling alley in town, but you just didn't want to stop seeing him. So even though you weren't getting paid anymore, you kept going to the library at 3pm on Tuesday, and Thursday. That's when you would get a full hour, sometimes two, of totally uninterrupted time with Eddie.

But that was your little secret. Eddie had no idea.

"Why did he do that?" you asked once Eddie was driving. He reached over the middle to scoop up your hand, and hold it softly in his. He brushed his thumb over yours.

"Those guys are assholes," Eddie muttered, "it's not even worth thinking about."

You made a sad noise in response, looking out the window at the dingy street lights.

"Chance is an idiot," he reassured, mocking tone over his name. "I bet you a thousand bucks he regrets what he's done as soon as he sees your pretty smile at school on Monday."

You hiccuped. The memory of the many drinks you had at the party was still fresh. And your stomach swirled suddenly.

"Time for bed," you said, slumping against the seat.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get you to bed all right," he joked, winking your way. You blushed, sinking into the seat a little more. You smiled a little. "Awh, there it is. Just trying to make you smile, that's all."

The rest of the ride was mostly silent. Eddie's stereo playing something quiet. Your hands were still weaved together, and you were hesitant to remove yourself when he stopped in front of your house. He took his seatbelt off, but stayed by your side, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes. You could feel yourself falling into them, so you pulled your eyes away, forcing yourself to push those feelings down.

"Thank you for everything," you whispered, voice hoarse from all the sobbing. "Maybe sometime we hang out it won't be about math or me crying," you joked. When you got out of the car, Eddie followed; being the gentleman he is, he walked you to the door. You fished the keys out of your pocket.

"I'd like that," he said, no edge to voice. No smirk or grin or joke. He really would like that.

You unlocked the door, and even though you didn't want to, and he didn't want you to... you left him for the evening. Chance was long forgotten, and new feelings of appreciation brewing for Eddie. Maybe there was something there. Suddenly... it didn't seem that unrequited.

And you two continued on, but it was all different. While studying before you were very goal oriented, but now, you found yourself lulling into easy conversation with Eddie, finding the time to be sidetracked by every question he asked you. And he felt it too, you were more open to him, more welcoming to his flirtatious teasing.

Instead of meeting at the library, he tried to catch you at your locker, or leaving class, just to have those extra moments to walk with you.

Your favourite part, was that it wasn't just two scheduled days anymore. He would seek you out everyday. He'd come join you in the cafeteria, just to ask you a million questions about your book but never let you actually read it and, "ignore all the great things right in front of you."

Even when the Hellfire club looked at him with questioning looks as he sat elsewhere, he just wanted to talk to you. They never said anything about it, they couldn't ignore the genuine smile across his face every time he spoke to you.

Today, you weren't anywhere to be found after class, so he made his way over to the library.

Everytime you studied, you guys were in study room two, so Eddie headed there without much thought. When he opened the door, two random students were in there, scared by the intrusion. He mumbled out a little apology and closed the door as quickly as he opened it, a little too loud, drawing a few eyes in the library.

He found you by the desk, whisper talking to the librarian. You were talking about him.

"...and Eddie in study room two."

"The study rooms are designated for the in school tutoring program, you know that."

"What's going on?" Eddie asked, smiling at your cute little angry face as you huffed and crossed your arms. The librarian left you two, after all, there was nothing she could do.

"They booked out our study room over me," you said. He didn't care about that at all, but his heart fluttered at the sight of you. You were just so fuckin' cute.

"We can just do it somewhere else," he said, putting a hand on your elbow to gently rotate you away from the desk. You let him lead you to an open table. He would admit, it left for less opportunity for him to flirt which he didn't like, and you'd have to whisper.

You started opening your books, and the librarians answer lingered in his mind. "Hey, aren't we in the tutoring program though?" And it made a wild blush flash across your cheeks, and he grin, thinking he found something. "Hey, what's got you blushin'?"

And that too made you blush. You whispered, "stop it," and tried to reel him back into the textbook, but he didn't bite.

"Hmm," he teased, leaning towards you with his fits under his chin, watching your features. "I don't know, I'm dyin' to know what makes those cheeks light up, I saved you, you know."

"My hero..." you mumbled, "I couldn't be in the program anymore if I took the job at the bowling alley," you admitted, wanting to sink into oblivion. "And I kept showing up so I guess they never reassigned you."

"Wait," he grinned, his eyes flashing down to watch as you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth. "You just wanted to see me bad enough to do it for free, huh?"

"Don't say it like that," you whispered, wishing you could sink into your clothes. Maybe get totally raptured out of here. If you blushed any longer you were sure that your cheeks were going to stain that way.

"Hey, c'mon," he said softly, hooking his finger under your chin to bring your gaze up to him. "It's cute, I appreciate it a lot."

"I just liked hanging out with you," you admitted, conjuring up a smile. He smiled back.

"Shoulda told me, we could've not been doing algebra this whole time." You laughed, and still he wouldn't look at any of the work. "Hey, let me take you somewhere else to study."

"Will we actually study?"

"I'm shocked by such a tone, sounds like you assume I have ulterior motives."

"Because I just know that you do!" you laughed, only to be shushed by the librarian. You two made your way out of the library anyway, "I've never been shushed before."

"I'm a bad influence," he mused, smiling at you.

He insisted on carrying your bag after you packed up your books, he only had his textbook and a beaten up notebook tucked under one arm. He would be happy to do this everyday, escort your wherever you needed to go, chauffeur you around town, he didn't care. He just wanted you to be safe and well taken care of.

"Where are we going?" you asked, when you realized he was leading you out of the school.

"Well, that depends on two things." Eddie stopped when you two were in the parking lot, right beside his van.

"What are those two things?"

"The first is; do you trust me?"

You looked at him for a second, and with a soft smile you answered, "I do."

"The second is; are you dying to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?"

The blush on your cheeks was clear, and the anxiety in the back of his mind calling him crazy for asking was roaring. But you shuffled your shoe, and without looking at him mumbled, "I am."

Eddie smiled at what he heard. He dropped your bag so he could scoop up your face with both of his hands, cupping your cheeks lovingly and looking at you before leaning down to place his lips on yours. He kissed you like he'd been dying and you were the antidote. His lips were tender, but dominate. He tasted like stale weed and spearmint gum, and you were totally lost in him. The way his arms moved to your waist to hold you close, as if this was his only chance. As if when you parted it would be over.

By the end you were both smiling so much it was hard to kiss. When he finally had to seperate, he kept you close, sneaking a hand back onto your cheek, giving you something to lean into while you slowly regained your breath.

"Could kiss you all day," he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours.

You looked at him and nodded eagerly, biting your swollen lip. "Yes, let's do that."

He laughed, kissing you on the forehead a few quick times. "What's the rush, petal? We've got all the time in the world."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fiction #stranger things fic #stranger things s4 #stranger things

[strawberryspence]

They both have different stories when asked, “When did you first meet?”

Steve says it was in school, along the hallways with freshman Steve Harrington and sophomore Eddie Munson locking eyes for the first time. Eddie says it was in a party, drinking beer and selling drugs, a transaction.

Wayne Munson knows the truth. The truth that way before monsters, way before creatures from games came true, way before the end of the world, way before everything, that Eddie and Steve have already met.

Wayne remembers that day so clearly. A social worker coming to his work in the middle of the day looking for him. Something about Wayne being the closest relative, about his brother going to jail and his mother running away.

Eddie's been living alone for two weeks. Two weeks. Cooking and cleaning for himself, the only reason it got suspicious is because he didn't go to school and one of his teachers called home.

He watches as Eddie swings himself at the empty playground. He brought Eddie here because— where do you bring children? Playgrounds are perfect right? He doesn't have the slightest idea as to what he's doing.

Sometimes in the morning, Wayne doesn't even have clothes to wear because he forgot to do the laundry. It's the same reason he doesn't have a wife and children. If he can't take care of himself, how could he take care of a whole other human being?

Out of nowhere, there's a kid running to the playground. Stopping just in front of Eddie and introducing himself with a bright smile.

His nephew stares at the boy for a few seconds before answering, "Hi, I am Eddie."

Wayne listens to them chatter for a few more minutes, before the boy asks if Eddie wants to be pushed.

Eddie's still giving the other boy a look of disbelief, before he finally says yes.

The boy's guardian sits beside Wayne. She looks better off, with an expensive looking coat and purse. But there's a warm, comforting smile on her face.

She turns to Wayne, “Is that your son?”

Wayne turns to her, pursing his lips, “I— Yes— No— It’s complicated.” He sighs. He doesn't even know what Eddie is to him now. “He’s my nephew. I just got custody of him today.”

“Oh.” The woman breathes out. Wayne turns back to the kids, Eddie's laughing now and it's music to his ears.

Wayne spills his heart to the random stranger, some part of his heart knowing that it will be safe with her.

“I don’t know what I am doing. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a child.” Wayne starts, “But he’s never got a good home and I want to give that to him.”

She smiles at him, "Just the fact that you want to give him a good home is telling me that you’ll be just fine. Don’t overthink it, life’s too short for that.”

It hits Wayne straight to his chest. He still doesn't know what exactly to do, but he feels better knowing that he has a chance to give Eddie the home he deserves.

“Thank you.” Wayne says, smiling at the woman as they watch the kids giggle and play.

“Steve’s your boy?” Wayne asks.

She beams back at him, answering without missing a beat, “Yeah, he’s my boy. Not my son, just my nephew. But I love him like he’s mine.”

Oh. Well, isn't that just perfect? Wayne softens and thinks— huh— she does understand.

When the time comes, Wayne watches as Eddie says a tearful goodbye with the other boy. There's daisies in his hair, like it grows right with his hair and Eddie has one tucked between his ears. It's intimate, the picture perfect to describe puppy love.

Eddie stands and waves at the boy's moving car, until he can't even see it anymore. And then, Eddie looks at him, "Where do I go now?"

Wayne stoops on his knees to see him eye to eye, "You're coming home with me. But before that we're gonna go get some milkshakes, does that sound good with you, Ed?"

Eddie looks at him curiously, brown eyes staring at him, "Do you have money for that?"

It floors Wayne, how grown up this child is. Eddie deserves to know nothing about this. In his age, he should be thinking about playing and making friends and being a child. No, Eddie is concerned if Wayne has enough money for a fucking milkshake.

"Of course, I have money for that, Ed!" Wayne laughs, patting his head. He stands, hoping it'll hide the pain in his eyes.

"Okay." Eddie answers. Wayne offers his hand for him to take, Eddie stares at it.

"Let's go?" Wayne asks, and Eddie nods, finally taking his hand, "Let's go."

From that day on, Wayne swears to protect Eddie, give him the home he deserves. He changes his shift to the evening one so he can stay home with him, gave him his room so he can have the privacy he deserves. Wayne loves Eddie like he's his own.

Even when Eddie finally comes out, that love didn't falter, "Hey, Wayne?"

Wayne turns to him. Eddie's bigger now, curly hair growing into longer wisps. He's wearing a vest with patches, they sewed it together months ago. "Yeah?"

"Remember that boy? In the playground with daisies in his hair? The day you took me home?" Wayne hums, nodding.

Eddie stares at him, arms crossed like a shield, "Yeah, he was my first love."

Wayne blinks at him.

"And I think— well— I know. I am gay."

Wayne nods, "Alright."

He turns to turn off the stove. Sits down and talks to Eddie, makes sure he knows that he can't be out because it's too dangerous, makes sure he knows that there's nothing wrong with loving another man.

And at the end of the night, Wayne tucks him in, just before he goes to work, kisses his forehead and says him, "I love you, Ed. Nothing will ever change that."

-

It's not until years later that he sees the boy from the playground again. Wayne's pretty sure he saw him in a few of the local papers, but he wasn't really sure, the pictures are too blurry, too small.

But this— this is the clearest picture Wayne has ever seen and he's damn sure that the boy sleeping beside Eddie's hospital bed is the boy with the daisies.

Wayne coughs, and the boy immediately springs back to life. It's odd. It's the same boy, only older. But there's so much weariness in his eyes, the same look Wayne has seen on war veterans. He still has brown hair, smooth and golden.

Eddie wakes up right after him, eyes bleary, with a small smile as soon as he sees him, "Uncle Wayne. I love you."

It's the first thing Eddie's said to him after a week of missing. Wayne chokes with tears. He moves closer to hug Eddie, tears in his eyes.

There was a time that he thought he'd never be able to do this again, that this was the end. Wayne was ready to burn this whole town, the whole world even, for whatever they've been doing to his pure, innocent nephew.

But he's here, alive and awake in front of Wayne and he thinks he can finally, finally breathe again.

"Never do that to me again, Ed. Never."

Eddie chuckles, "Alright. I promise."

"I love you too, okay?" Eddie nods.

They separate and for a few solid seconds, they all just stare at each other before Eddie speaks again, "Oh, uhm, Uncle Wayne, this is Steve. Steve, this is my Uncle Wayne."

Steve immediately stands up, shaking his hand earnestly. Wayne stares at Eddie, waits for any indication that he knows, remembers that this boy was his first love.

Nothing.

Nada.

After breaking every NDA he signed and telling Wayne every little tidbit of his crazy week, Eddie finally falls asleep again with the help of a handful of drugs.

Wayne takes his chance, just before Steve goes to go and check on their other friend, the Mayfield kid.

"Hey, kid?" Steve stops on his tracks, before facing him.

"Sir?"

Wayne scoffs, "None of that Sir stuff. Wayne would do. I just have a question."

"What is it, si— Wayne?" Steve blinks at him, lips pursing at the obvious mistake.

"Do you have an aunt?" Steve looks visibly taken back, eyes widening.

"Yes. I have." He blanches, "I did."

Oh. Oh, no.

"You did?" Wayne asks; he knows what the answer is but he still wants to know what happened to that woman from the playground that day. The same one that he still thinks of when he has a tough time.

Wayne has always thought that they'll meet again someday, that he'll get to thank her for that one conversation. He missed his chance.

"She died when I was a kid. Cancer." Steve answers, his voice quivering for a split second, "Why do you ask? Did you know her?"

Wayne shakes his head, "No. I don't think so. You just reminded me of someone, and guess I got it wrong."

Steve nods his head, accepting his answer wholeheartedly, "Goodnight, Wayne."

And Wayne watches, as the door closes shut behind Steve, "Goodnight, daisy boy."

-

Steve and Eddie, Wayne thinks, are utter idiots.

First, they dance together for ages before they finally get their act together and date. Wayne might've as well held a white poster paper with "KISS" written on it behind them.

Second, they fight over when they first meet and none of them are even right. Wayne is exhausted, listening to them argue about it day and night.

Third, they're blind. Literally blind.

The day of their wedding, Wayne hoped that the two boys would finally realize that they've met that day on the park. He asked that nice girl, Nancy, to pick some daisies and to put it on Steve's hair for the ceremony. While, Wayne went out to pick one to tuck behind Eddie's ear.

As Wayne watched as the two boys proclaim their love for each other in front of their family, with daisies tucked in their hairs just like the day they first met; he's overcome with the feeling of joy and happiness over the fact that the two boys still found each other even after everything.

It's ridiculous watching them not recognize each other, so Wayne finally decided to end their (his) misery.

Eddie clinks a glass with a fork, "Uncle Wayne! Speech!" There's a flurry of clinking before Wayne finally stands up.

"Alright, alright. I'll do it." They laugh, putting down their glasses.

It's a small backyard wedding. The Hopper-Byers has decked the yard with bright lights that brightened the whole night. In the middle, there's one long table to fit all of them. On the end of the table, side-by-side, is Eddie and Steve.

"Alright, I have a confession to make." Everyone straightens up in anticipation.

"I know it's been a running debate between Steve and Eddie, as to who's right about where and when they first met." Wayne can hear Eddie saying, "It's me obviously!"

"Settle down, boy." Wayne says, making them laugh.

"The truth is they're both wrong. You both have been very blind to the truth." Eddie makes an appalled noise as Steve laughs.

"The truth is I know when they first met." Eddie squints at him, confused. Steve whispers something to his ear that Eddie answers with a shrug.

"Steve and Eddie first met as kids. It was the same day I got custody of Eddie. I bought him to the park after that, let him play, you know? Out of no where, this kid—" Wayne chuckles.

"This kid comes up to Eddie, introduces himself and asks if Eddie wants to be pushed. His aunt— his aunt was very kind to me even though I was a complete stranger spilling my guts out to her."

"When it was time to leave, Eddie says goodbye to this kid, and it was so intimate. I remember thinking it was the perfect picture for puppy love. The boy goes home with daisies tucked in his hair, while Eddie goes home with one in his ear."

"It's not until years later, when Eddie came out to me that he tells me that the same boy with the daisies was his first love. And it's not until a few more years later after that, when I first meet the daisy boy again, sleeping beside Eddie's bed in the hospital."

Wayne turns to Steve and Eddie, there's pure surprise in their faces as they watch and listen to Wayne's speech.

"I could never really forget about that day and that boy. The way he made my nephew happy on one of the worst days of his lives. And now, he gets to make Eddie happy for the rest of their lives." Wayne sniffs, hiding it with a fake cough.

"Love is iffy." Wayne says, causing everyone to chuckle, "But what you guys have? It's been set into stone way before you knew each other. That's as true as love can ever be and I hope you nurture and care for it for the rest of your lives."

There's no dry eye in the yard. Wayne's heart is full and content, because he's sure that his son will be happy and taken care for, for the rest of their lives.

Wayne raises his glass,

"A toast to the daisy boys."

-

→ Annalyn's POV | BONUS

(thank you for the overwhelming love for Annalyn's POV! i am so glad y'all liked it. 💗)

TAGS: @7-starboi @emly03 @a-new-kind-of-blue @leather-and-freckles @tiny-enthusiast @cherrycolas-things @the-redthread @lady-silkwing @ancielsol @sunshine1066 @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @makewavesandwar @hunterbow04 @resident-gay-bitch @swimmingbirdrunningrock @bidisastersworld

#let me cry #i love wayne so much #uncle wayne supremacy #FOREVER #dae writes #daeheadcanons #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fluff #steddie fanfic

[coupleoffanfics]

Part 2 of Batfam and batsis y/n headcons

Masterlist

It was a surprise to see y/n at the of the manor one night after her "outburst" that was a couple months ago. Alfred is happy to see her but notices her troubled expression. She greets him and asks if Bruce was here.

Entering the Batcave for the first time in years, it hasn't changed too much from what y/n remembers. The first to notice her walk in is Damian. "Sister, what are you doing here?" It's always so weird hearing him call her that now. He's never called he that until her "outburst".

This gets the attention of Tim and Babs, making them look away from the monitor. Tim is glad to see her again and hopefully, she is here to mend their broken, not completely burnt, bridges. Babs is also glad to see her as they haven't been communicating as much this past week, but concerned as to what brought her here. She has a feeling that y/n wouldn't come here without a reason.

"I need to talk to Bruce." Damian is almost upset that y/n didn't say she came to see him. He doesn't even have to open his mouth as Bruce is right behind her. Bruce makes his presence known which made y/n jolt up a bit.

Turns around to see him suited up just like the others. Not seeing his full face made her more comfortable oddly.

She takes a deep breath before talking, "I want to clarify that I'm talking to Batman and not Bruce Wayne. I have some information and I desperately need your help." Everyone's interest was already peaked before she said anything.

Bruce watches her pointer finger curl around her hair, her eyes shifted away from him, and her shoulders somehow become even more tense. "Jerome is looking for someone, not me, but I'm worried about them. Wait not looking for he's found them and I- ugh, I'm sure you've already done a background check on him. He has a twin brother and he supposedly wants him dead. I'm…"

All their eyes on her were worsening her anxiety. "I'm best friends with him, Jeremiah Valeska." Babs is already putting the pieces together that Xander Wilde was just an alias. She does remember thinking that they look similar, but she's only met y/n's boyfriend a handful of times and never looked that deep into Jerome's relatives. There wasn't any need to look at his family as long as they aren't committing illegal acts with him.

"Jerome, he did something to Jeremiah. There was this gas and it messed him up. He…" y/n was trying not to get too emotional from talking about a topic that was sensitive to her. "He's not right in the head anymore. It's almost like he's turning into Jerome. He's losing control, he knew a week ago that something is wrong but now he's saying…"

Their eyes and her various feelings on the matter were making her feel that this was a dead end. It's been nearly three months and things have been getting progressively worse. As she looks at Bruce and all she expects is to be rejected. To tell her that she was overreacting and that time was going to heal whatever this mess was.

y/n looked Bruce in the eyes and for the first desperately begged, "Please. Please help find a cure or something to end Jeremiah's madness. I…" She choked back the urge to say that she loved him. There wasn't a need for that and she'd rather keep them in the dark about her life. "…I don't want to lose my best friend. I know you're busy, but I had try asking. Just tell me now if you'd be able to help in any way possible and I'll leave you alone."

This came out of nowhere, but with y/n looking Bruce in the eye with glassy and a scared look in her eyes. How could he say no? "I'll do everything I can, but I'll need a blood sample."

Anything that he said after that went in and out of y/n's ears. She was just relieved that she had the greatest detective help her. "Yeah, um, I can do that." Her voice was softer than a few seconds ago. She wiped the tears of relief with her palm and quickly made her way out of the cave.

Tim wanted to go after her, but Damian was already following behind her and Babs gave him a discouraging look. Babs finally understood why y/n has been so quiet these past weeks. She also knew that y/n needed time to herself and she'd hope that Damian would understand that. She thinks Bruce knew that as well as he stared at the exit for a moment before swiftly going back to work.

Damian kept calling out to his sister before grabbing her wrist. y/n really wanted to shake off his hand and tell him to just leave her alone. Though feeling how firm his grip is she knew it would probably be best to go with whatever to not trigger another meltdown. That was the last thing she ever wanted to see or deal with.

Genuinely though she didn't know why he followed her. It didn't matter if he was trying to repave their relationship, she always expects the worst to come out of his mouth. As a shield, she says what he thinks he'll say. Putting herself down before he or anyone can do it.

"Yeah, I know I shouldn't be down there. It's no place for me and I get in the way. I'm not going to lie and say I'm fully sorry. I am, but I need to try everything to save him, and if that means you'll all have to bear witness to a living failure once more then so be it."

Damian is stuck by her words again and lets go of her as if her skin burns him. He was unsure of how to respond to that, but that wasn't the reason he was there. He tells her with full confidence, "Father will find a cure. Your friend will be okay."

She doesn't look at him. Surprised that he didn't degrade her and slightly smiling that he was comforting her. "Thank you, Damian, that was nice of you to say." Then walks out of the manor just like last time, but this night Damian can fall asleep without regretting eating him alive.

Bruce hires a team of toxicologists. Buys a whole new laboratory for the team. Making sure that there is progress being made while he's not working on it. Tim is the one who spends the most time searching for a cure.

The day after y/n would make her regular trip to the psychiatric hospital with Tim watching from a distance. Tim wasn't stalking y/n he'd claim fully knowing that's exactly what he's doing. He just felt that something was missing and he just wanted to know. He was sick of all her secretiveness. He's given y/n some space after her "outburst" unlike Damian and Dick. So he feels like he could do this because it's not like he forcing her to be around him like the other two.

But regardless the stalking. He was concerned about seeing y/n walk into a mental hospital. It wasn't Arkham, but personally knowing her track record of depressive episodes made him wonder why she was here. Was she admitting herself again?

y/n going through a mental low is difficult no matter how many times Tim sees and helps her through it. She'd stop having this bubbly aura around her. Not being able to get out of bed. There were few times she talked of how hopeless and empty she felt. When she had these episodes they'd never last a few days. They'd always be a week and the worse he's personally seen it last for 2 months. Then the mental image of her dealing with this on her own and coming to the point that she felt the need to admit herself was devastating to him in many ways.

Disguised as part of the staff, Tim followed y/n. Quickly realizing that she wasn't admitting herself, but visiting. He stood by the door of the patient's room that she dispersed in and closed the door. Interestingly Echo walked out of the room at one point and went back.

Seeing y/n standing by the door and about to leave, Tim quickly put some distance between himself and her. Watching y/n, Echo, and a man wearing a hat walk out. Following close behind as they left the hospital and entered the parking garage. He noticed how closely y/n and the man were walking together while Echo walked behind them.

Suddenly Echo came to a halt making the others stop and look at her. Then she ran full force toward Tim and pushed him against the concrete wall. A sharp knife pressed against his throat.

The handful of times Tim has seen Echo he's never seen her exhibit any emotion. There was a sort of underlying anger as she calmly ask who he was and why he following them. He's not able to get his mouth open because y/n runs up panicked while the man walks slowly.

y/n doesn't even need a second to see that it was Tim. Makes Echo let go of him before asking what he was even doing there. There is no good lie that he can come up with on the spot and he knew lying was just going to make y/n more upset than she already was.

"You never talk or are around anymore. You're so secretive now that it makes me worried." Tim would continue if he didn't notice y/n clench her jaw. He would have to be blind to not see y/n trying to keep her cool.

That's when the man placed his gloved hand on her shoulder. Just that simple action alone got rid of any tension in y/n. The man would introduce himself as Jeremiah.

Tim felt uncomfortable by Jeremiah. It could have been the fact that y/n did say his mental sanity has deteriorated, but Tim could just feel something was off with him. His bright green eyes remind Tim of someone. His face also looked to be caked with makeup and the way he talked was unnerving.

The three leave Tim behind. y/n stating that they'll talk about 'this' later. He goes back to the manor even more perplexed by everything.

Later that day y/n drops by the manor. Trying to be discreet as possible because she doesn't want to trigger Damian jumping out. Handing the blood sample to Bruce then turning her attention to Tim.

They have a long drawn-out conversation about what transpired earlier. Explaining why he felt the need to follow her and how he wants her to be open with him.

"— I want us to friends again." That made y/n's heart and mind stop for a moment. Just a moment because she immediately rebuttals. Not trying to mean when saying she doesn't want to be near any of them. That just things change, that they've changed, and they drifted apart. That he had nothing to worry about, but to also never do that again.

y/n spends most of her time with Jeremiah until she has classes and takes a minute to drop by the manor for any updates. Now that y/n is visiting the manor, Damian doesn't surprise her with visits anymore. Since she comes over quite often, daily almost.

He always tries to prolong her time there. He remembers the few things she's interested in. Art and fencing. He'll try almost bribe her to spend more time with him. Mentioning that he's going to an art museum or that he's done with his latest painting. It doesn't get her attention. Talks about how he's got tickets for a fencing match, but that doesn't interest y/n in the slightest.

It's like she's purposefully ignoring him. It's not the case, but that's beside the point. One day when y/n drops by and gets ready to leave, Damian walks up to her with one question. "Can you teach me how to fence?"

Taken aback the question y/n has to take a moment to register it. She sighs, "You're better off getting a professional trainer because I haven't held a saber or epee in a hot minute." She's not even trying to avoid Damian even though he just reminds her how much of a failure she is. She's just being honest.

The boy is becoming visibly frustrated. Panicking and remembering his last tantrum, y/n quickly says that she'll teach him the basics after her classes. Seeing that he was calming down y/n makes a quick escape.

After her last class, she sees Damian waiting right outside of her classroom. Once she's in his peripheral vision he tries to drag her back to the manor and into the newly established fencing room, but she needs to make a quick stop.

Will not let her go alone no matter what. So she kinda has no choice but to bring him along. It's nothing new. She makes a quick call informing someone that she'll have someone with her before jumping into her car. They take a long ride out of Gotham and into the woods. Making Damian wonder where the hell y/n is going.

The second one to meet Jeremiah is Damian. Jeremiah only politely greets him before leaving to talk with y/n in another room. The first impression Damian has of Jeremiah is not a good one. Highly suspicious of him and is not comfortable letting y/n be alone in a room with him. Low-key impressed by the labyrinth that Jeremiah calls his house and likes the interior of the living room. Every classy.

Would have put his ear against the door to hear what they were saying if it wasn't for Echo. She was staring him down. He's pretty sure she hasn't blinked since they got here. Going off what Tim said to the others about Echo possibly being y/n's lover, Damian wonders what y/n sees in Echo.

When they leave and get back into the car Damian brings up Echo. "Your girlfriend should learn how to blink." y/n almost stomped on the breaks. "Girlfriend...? Echo?" She's very confused. "Who else am I talking about." This is when she learns that the whole family thinks she's dating Echo. The idea is funny but also irked her because that was far from the truth. Calmly explains to Damian that isn't the case and that she was simply Jeremiah's bodyguard. Damian can't wait to tell Tim that he was wrong.

Once they get back to the manor y/n teaches Damian about fencing. First going over the rules and the 4 types of fencing before doing anything physical. Surprisingly time flew by. They probably would have been fencing all night if Alfred didn't interrupt them for dinner. y/n planned on leaving, but Damian convinced her to at least stay for dinner because Alfred made her favorite dish and dessert.

This is around the time y/n starts to think that Damian isn't too bad. Out of everyone in the family, Damian is probably the one she'd be the most lenient towards. She's lenient towards the whole family, but Damian is still relatively young. He was able to move on from his horrible childhood, even though that resulted in him lashing out, y/n can forgive that to an extent. Deep down she sees him as her little brother even after their rough patch.

The fact that he isn't breaking into her apartment and trying to connect with her, makes her think that it's safe to be around him. That she isn't going to be verbally reminded that she's one of the most worthless human beings to be alive.

She starts straying a little longer at the manor to mentor Damian a few times. He starts to worry when she easily has the wind knocked out of her and has a cough that doesn't go away. She tells him that it's nothing to worry about. Might lie to him if doesn't give up on the topic by saying she's developed asthma. The lie isn't implausible since anyone can develops asthma at any age and it is hereditary.

It calms Damian down a little. Now he constantly carries an inhaler just in case y/n needs it. She feels so bad lying to him, but she thinks it's for the best that everyone should stay in the dark about her medical condition.

Seeing y/n willingly hang out with Damian gets under Tim's skin. He's given her space unlike Damian, except for that one time but it was only one time. The little gremlin has been harassing her since that one "outburst". He'd want to pull out the 'I knew her longer' card, but he knows how petty it would be. Who she hangs out with isn't his problem and he should mind his own business.

He does mind his own business, but he may occasionally check the cameras to see what y/n and Damian are up to. That's all he swears. Oh, my god, they're going to orchestral concerts and museums together now!? This is so unfair Tim thinks to himself.

They use to be so close.

Honestly, Bruce is thankful for Damian. He's keeping y/n around the manor longer so she can be completely safe from the madness of Gotham. It's also good to know that she's willingly interacting with one of her brothers. It almost warms his heart to see her not be so anxious while in the manor. Just almost because she shouldn't have to feel anxious in the first place. This was the place she once called home, it should make her feel safe not anxious.

Remember the team of toxicologists?

If you don't that's fine. They were killed by the bomb placed in the laboratory, so it's not like they'd be brought up again.

Everyone thinks it's Jerome. The loss of innocent life and y/n suddenly going missing seems like a Jerome thing to do. When they hunt down Jerome, he just kinda shrugs his shoulders while doing a poor job at hiding his smile. Damian wants to scratch his face off or rip his face off depending on the state of it. Dick has to hold back the little monster while Bruce interrogates the ginger.

It goes nowhere until Jerome gets bored of interrogation and tells them, "I'm tired of him thinking that he's better than me. We're quite the same, but I'm the better one. I just had to give him a fresh air of courage to be his true self." Everyone understands what he's say and also groaning that they have to deal with another fucking Valeska.

BONUS

Jerome, Jeremiah, Joker, and Harley being a sort of dysfunctional family is a fun idea. (Inspired by this) Joker and Harley enable the twins' unhealthy love for y/n Wayne.

Harley is more "innocent" in her enabling because she sees nothing wrong with it. The staking, the murder, it's nothing when it's the name of love. (When she leaves Joker for Ivy, she might feel guilty for egging them on. That she played a part in instating y/n into a toxic relationship. Out of anyone, she'd be the one to understand what's it like to be in one. This might motivate her to help keep y/n safe in the future.) Out of the two Harley is rooting for Jerome. He just seems like the lesser evil for y/n.

Joker finds the whole thing funny and pathetic at the same time. The twins are destroying half of the city for a girl, it almost makes him want to roll his eyes. Almost because of the lengths they'll go to. How they're always butting heads and seeing how distraught the girl gets is fun. He can't help but laugh at it. He'll be putting his money on Jeremiah because he sees potential. He's not reckless like Jerome or impatient, Jeremiah is in it for the long haul.

#batfamily x batsis #batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #jason todd x reader #richard grayson x reader #dick grayson x batsis #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x batsis #yandere x reader #barbara gordon x reader #jerome valeska x batsis reader #jeremiah valeska x batsis reader

[formosusiniquis]

There's something about the idea that every adult that spends more than ten minutes alone with Steve Harrington is instantly enamored with him 

The King Steve era house parties don't get broken up by the cops anymore. Steve is too far from his nearest neighbors for a noise complaint and the cops who would do it like Steve. They know they don't have to worry about any underage drinking and driving incidents after a Steve Harrington party because anyone who doesn't have a DD just crashes at the Harrington place, it's not like they have to worry about getting out of there before his parents get home.

His teachers can't help but let certain things slide. Excusing a middle school Steve's tardiness, the Harrington house is such a long bike ride away from the school and the bus route doesn't reach the grounds of Loch Nora. High School Steve's grades are average at best and his attention drifts, but his questions if poorly worded are insightful at heart and if you catch him away from the friends he tries too hard to keep he's polite and willing to spend time discussing his school work. By senior year they're excusing his tardiness again, they all know he has to swing by the middle school on his way over; and his forgetfulness too, two concussions in as many years it's a wonder he's not worse.

Joyce Byers, who by all accounts should hate this boy who fought her son and belittled her family, already has a snag in her armor thinking about a little boy who used to bike to Melvalds all alone for more milk and the sugar dusted cereal his mother didn't like him to have. Has her walls damaged by Jonathan coming home with a Christmas present they both know Nancy Wheeler even in her middle class glory couldn't afford. Has the adoption papers ready to be notarized when that same little boy, just a little bit bigger, offers to cart her Will around town since he knows she and Jon are busy and he has nothing better to do; really, and Will is the only one that ever says please or thank you.

Hopper, who largely left the everyday police work to the other officers, didn't interact with Steve much until the Upside Down business started. He's ready to add Harrington to the list of kids he'd die to protect the second the bloodstained boy cracks open a bleary eye from the Byers' sofa. Concussed and happy for it since it meant the youngest ones were safe.

Claudia Henderson has decided that the law has little to do with family. She's seen too many young men in the hospital grieving loved ones they can't see while parents who don't care make decisions for the dying. Steve Harrington is hers now has been since he did her Dusty's hair. The Sinclairs only let Erica roam the mall on her own on days they know Steve is working. They know no matter what Erica and Lucas promise the two of them aren't staying together. There's something rotten in Hawkins, and the kids don't whisper as quietly as they think they do. They know there's something they are missing, but they don't need to know everything to know they can trust the boy who put himself bodily in front of their child to protect him. Karen still occasionally mourns the loss of Steve as a son-in-law but the fact that he still drives Mike around even on his surliest days, she couldn't ask for more.

Wayne Munson lasted the longest. A product of night shifts and a powerful wariness around anyone whose tax bracket exceeds his by more than one jump. But he knows the kind of skittish that Steve is, remembers an eight year old boy with eyes he hadn't grown into who used to skitter away from a sharp tongue or raised hand just the same. Even then all it takes is sitting next to Steve on a rare night off, the game fuzzing in and out on the TV, listening to him softly explain the rules of it all to his boy relating it back to the ones of that dragon game Eddie likes so much and he's gone. Steve's a hard worker, a wage slave as much as Wayne these days, seems wrong to begrudge him just cause the house he's kept at is a little bigger than theirs. There are worse boys to have as future in-laws, even if he is a Cubs fan.

The only person who doesn't seem to get the memo is Richard Harrington. So rarely around his own son he isn't swept up in the charm. Richard and Stephanie Harrington make their way back to Hawkins, unannounced on a Tuesday. The sleepy morning hours are still lingering when they make their way into the house, through the foyer, and onto the kitchen; following the sounds of crooning oldies. Richard has long thought his son a disappointment, too lazy to get into college and too spoiled to leave home, catching him dancing around the kitchen like a fairy with some trailer trash punk is really the last straw. He lets the wife he wishes he didn't have make some asinine comment to this freak that's in his kitchen, and turns to the child he never wanted to say, "I want you out, I won't have a queer living under my roof."

Stephanie and that long haired bastard both rear back like they've been slapped. While Richard is forced to watch as the son he's neglected straightens up, every ounce the man every other adult on Hawkins has watched him become, look him in the eye and say, "It's not your house, it never was. Grandpa Otis left it to me. So if you've got a problem with me or my fucking boyfriend, you can get out of my house. Looks like you're already packed."

That empty house gets emptier as Richard, alone, takes the furniture he paid for and the clothes that lingered in the closet; but it's quickly filled with the hand-me-downs of everyone who has ever fallen for that Harrington charm. They're all too happy to help Steve fill what's his.

#steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things fic #steddie #steve harrington hc #wayne munson #joyce byers #chief hopper #jim hopper #steve harrington's parents #i find steves mom to be fascinating and i genuinely think she really loves her son #i think she saw her boy happy in the kitchen with eddie and immediately wanted to meet him #maybe made a comment about eddies hair like mother like son #i think theyre relationship is extremely complicated but i think push come shove her son will always beat her husband #i couldnt think of a good way to work the buckleys in here but they also think steve would be an excellent son in law

[wondersinwaynemanor]

here i go again with "big brother dick grayson strikes again" prompts.

thinking of Dick probably helping his siblings on their first dates and offering to take them to the location.

Dick to Jason: Hey, Little Wing. I know you can take one of your motorcycles, but let me take you. You can just focus on being pretty.

Jason: Shut up, Dick. But, are you sure? I don't know why my hands feel a bit numb-

Dick, takes Jason's hands on his to warm them up and untighten the nerves there: It's okay. I got you. You're okay. It's going to be okay. Don't stress yourself out.

Jason: I know I fucked up many times, Dick. I don't want.. I don't know what to do if I fuck this up.

Dick, brings Jason closer: Shh. You won't, Jay. You're very smart and strong, and so so caring and you don't even realize it it. Ask the kids at the Alley, they idolize you. Roy adores you and everything you do. He knows who you are. And trust me, I'm not that bitter anymore of one of my best friends dating my younger brother.

Jason smiles which warms Dick's heart, making him smile too.

Dick: Plus, we wouldn't want Ollie to think that a Wayne cannot dress up and be romantic right?

Jason grins this time.

Dick to Tim: Timmy, I have a great idea! I'll drive you there. I know you're tired from work already. Just let me know which restaurant then you can rest a bit when we travel there.

Tim: It's okay, Dick. You're also tired from your shift. I'll just let Kon know I'll be late for a few-

Dick: No, no. If you want to rest first, let him know, he'll understand. But I'll still take you.

Tim: But, Dick...

Dick: Nah-uh. I didn't drive you to prom, remember? Let me do this, Baby Bird. And for me to also look out for Lex, just in case he bothers Conner again. We don't want that happening in the middle of your date.

Tim, laughs: Well, Kon will just have to drag Lex's ass to space.

Dick laughs with him.

Dick to Cass: Aww, you look beautiful, Cass. So where you going? Where will you meet Steph?

Cass, fixing her necklace: By her house.

Dick: Great! I already know where that is. I'll drive you there. We don't want to ruin your beauty. I mean, that's totally impossible, but I want you to just relax before the date.

Cass, blushes: I can do it.

Dick: Of course, you can. But I want to. Pretty please, pretty please. I'm a little protective over my sister.

Cass, rolls her eyes fondly but smiles: Of course. Thank you.

Dick: You're most welcome. And tell Steph if she does something extreme like set some fireworks, tell her to lay off with those energy drinks she started on her diet.

Dick to Duke: Little D, Little D! Don't even try to say no cus maybe your brothers and sister have already told you, but this is kinda my tradition now. I'm taking you to your first date.

Duke: They did tell me. But, Dick.. I don't want to be a burden. Weren't you injured-

Dick: No, no. That was like last week. I'm good. As long as you're good with me to take you, right? Now, I don't want to be the burden.

Duke, smiles: Never.

Dick, smiles and gives Duke a side hug: Then you're never a burden too, Little D. A big bro has to look out for the younger ones. Plus, I can say that you dressing up nice comes from my influence.

Duke, chuckles: Who else am I looking up to, right?

Dick to Damian: Shush, Dami. I know you're dating a super, and he can come and get you without a minute to spare, but tell Jon I'll be taking you.

Damian: Richard, please. I'm already at the right age.

Dick, puts a hand on his little (not so anymore) brother's shoulder and he refuses not to tear up (he fails ofc): I know, you've grown up so much, Dami. So much, since I made you Robin. But please, it will make me really happy to do this. It will give me peace, in some way. It sounds ridiculous, but yes.

Damian, doesn't even try to hide the fond he has on his face: Alright, Richard. I'll let Jon know.

Dick: He's not taking you somewhere out of Gotham or Metropolis, right? Cus then we'll have to take the Batplane.

Damian, chuckles: It's in Metropolis, don't worry.

Dick: Phew. I was as nervous as the time I took Tim on his date.

so....

maybe after a few years on Dick and Wally's wedding day, Dick's younger siblings will be walking with him on the aisle by his side and Bruce, their Father, on his other side of course. and they're thankful that the aisle is wide enough to fit the whole Wayne kids. Dick is a crying mess and he hasn't even reached Wally yet by the end of the aisle. because he's genuinely happy to have his siblings take him to the love of his life this time.

#big brother dick grayson strikes again #my own personal tag #batfamily prompt #dc prompt #batfamily headcanons #batfamily #batman #batkids #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #duke thomas #stephanie brown #just gonna tag one ship for this #birdflash #as the rest of the ships are just mentions #dc universe

[punkslovepoints]

✨2023 Steddie Fic Recommendations

template from Steddie Support Podcast on twitter

Cutting Close by @anniebass

Steve Harrington is in pain.

No, not, like, psychological one, rather an unshooable bullshit of a headache, all thanks to the Russians squatting underneath a mall, torturing him a smidge.

So, when his two best friends get all chummy with a known weirdo of a drug dealer, Steve first rolls his eyes, then rolls with it, jumping on an occasion to purchase his all-natural head trauma medicine. Except, you have got to be at least cordial with your dealer, to keep the relationship, and when the guy remembers you as a shithead, well. You gotta try harder.

is your light on? by @toburnup

"Tell me a secret," Steve says and Eddie shakes his head.

"Why would I do that?

"I'll tell you one."

Eddie looks intrigued, smirks in his direction. "A secret for a secret? Okay." He looks up. "You go first."

(Steve always noticed Eddie. He's been there on the peripheral, easy enough to ignore. Until he's standing right in front of him, unavoidable. And then they collide over, and over, and over.)

Heed the Ominous Warning of The Talking Heads by audacity_of_bluejays

Steve Harrington thinks he has it all together until he doesn't. A revelation about his feelings for his roommate Eddie followed by an altercation with his asshole father complicates matters more than he expects.

(A 13 going on 30 AU)

i come back to the place you are by @glitterfang

Steve should've known that Eddie was lying when he looked right into Steve's eyes and promised not to try any heroic bullshit. He should've known based on their conversation in the upside down that Eddie felt he had something to prove. And he definitely shouldn't have left Eddie to face the horrors of the Upside Down alone. And now? Now Eddie's in a seemingly unending coma and Steve is wracked with guilt. So, he pours himself into trying to fix his mistake. He helps Uncle Wayne move into a new house, he spends hours in the hospital reading to Eddie, and he even keeps the Corroded Coffin boys company. He's getting to know Eddie really well while Eddie's out cold.

(Steve is surrounded by every single person who loves Eddie Munson. How could he not fall a little bit in love with him?)

Reboot by @plutosrose

In 2012, Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson film a scene in the teen drama Normal Stuff that launches a popular ship on ao3.

By early 2013, they aren't speaking anymore.

In 2024, Robin calls Steve with an offer to reprise his role as Andy Hartley in a reboot of their old show, with one important update--his character gets together with Eddie's.

no reason by @theopteryx

There's a pause. "I'm going to be fine?" Eddie asks, voice also going high and thin.

"You're—sure?"

"Yes."

"Fascinating. Great. Are you—could you do me a favor, then, and maybe just—leave me here anyway?"

"What?" Steve says. "No. Why?"

"No reason," Eddie says, voice tight.

(Eddie kisses Steve in what he thinks are his last moments on earth. Then he doesn't die.)

carve your name into my chest by @hexiewrites

Eddie Munson just wanted to play hockey. That's almost all he's ever wanted, since he was old enough to realize it was an option for him. And now he's at the top of his game, one of the best players in the NHL.

Everything would have been perfect... if it wasn't for the small matter of the thing he's got going with his long time rival, goalie Steve Harrington.

Flashbacks by @eddywoww

"Why is it a secret?" Eddie asked slowly.

Steve felt himself shrugging. He knew why it had to be a secret. His parents would hate Eddie and his long hair, his dirt smudged cheeks. The way he shouted and ran and giggled. They wouldn't like who Steve was around Eddie. Steve knew that, so it had to be a secret.

"It just is." Steve said, looking out to see Elizabeth glaring at him. Frantically waving him over. Time to go home.

leaving like a father, running like water by scoops_ahoy

Steve is still riding the high of what he and Eddie never got to have five years after he died.

Crossed Wires by @entanglednow

Lesson of the day, no matter how busy you are, it's rarely a good idea to let your subconscious take the wheel.

Doll House by @grandmastattoo

Eddie comes of age knowing that sometimes a person doesn’t have to be one of the dead to haunt the living. A ghost can be a memory. A ghost can be a question.

It’s his own ghosts that he holds onto when he first finds himself in Steve Harrington’s house, after.

After the Upside-Down. After Vecna. After Eddie.

Soda Burn by @3minsover

When the upmarket cocktail bar Steve's working at goes out of business, he finds himself in desperate need of a job.

off-script by @pukner

Post season 3, Steve manages to figure out that he's bisexual, despite his best efforts to repress it, comes out to Robin and Jonathan Byers of all people, and figures himself out. Also, there's a cute guy who might be actually insane running the kids' dnd club and he's got his eye on him. And his bandana.

Too bad Eddie Munson hasn't had a similar revelation. He's still under the impression that he's a straight man obsessing over Steve Harrington for normal, extremely heterosexual reasons.

Tuesday’s Gone with the Wind by @thisapplepielife

Corroded Coffin's leased plane went down on June 13th, 1995 in the woods of Louisiana.

Ten people on board died. Eddie Munson survived. Before he survived, he really lived.

senior year, 1985 by tofana

Eddie wakes up naked with King Steve sleeping soundly next to him, and no recollection of how he got there.

Night Drives by @mojowitchcraft

“Are you okay Harrington?” Eddie asks gently, “Need me to get anyone?”

“No one to get,” replies Steve, so soft Eddie barely catches it. “You think I want anyone seeing me like this?"

(Night Drives is an ongoing series, starting with "No One Rides for Free" where Eddie Munson stumbles across Steve Harrington crying next to a bush at Tina's party and makes it his mission to cheer him up. Continuing on as their relationship develops over the course of fall/winter 1984 and beyond.)

i dont want to see you at my party (but i’d love it if you showed up) by nicobloodlust

When Eddie invites him to their first gig back after everything, he thinks, this is it!

Eddie is going to tell him how he feels or Steve will tell Eddie and then! They’ll be together.

He’s having a great time, that’s until he notices Eddie is flirting with someone on his right, a girl closer to the stage, and he starts to worry.

Then both of mine from this year:

The most that I could give to you is nothing at all

They make out in his basement sometimes.

Steve tells himself it's just something they do to blow off steam, to decrease the monotony of post-apocalyptic living. Nothing more.

A few months later, Eddie leaves for the opportunity of a lifetime. Steve ignores his calls, makes sure they get a clean break, that they both get over it. Trouble is neither of them do.

"The A is for Ally"

When he is seventeen Steve Harrington sees Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson pushed up against the side of the late night convenience store with his hands down another guy’s pants.

Unable to stop thinking about it afterwards, it takes him ten years to work out what that means.

(After his friends come out one by one, Steve settles comfortably into his new role as an ally. He moves to the city, joins groups, attends protests, even signs up to a gender studies class. Then in 1991 Eddie comes crashing back into his life.)

#steddie #fanfiction #steddie fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddiewrapped #long post

[faeriekit]

The Firstborn Son

dp x dc | Batman 👻 tw for: dead body, brief reference to human trafficking

(Part II available now!)

****

Once upon a time, there is a boy who dies forever...mostly.

****

Once upon a time, there is a man who wants to live forever.

He does.

****

Once upon a time, there is a daughter born to an immortal man.

"I need an heir," her father commands.

She gives him one.

****

Once upon a time, there is a King.

(He is a dead boy.)

(Most do not know that.)

"My heir, for a hundred years of your power," the immortal offers; the King accepts.

****

Once upon a time, there was a family of acrobats.

There isn't, not anymore, but the son still loves his mother and father, and gravity cannot steal his wings forever.

He sleeps restlessly, and rarely in his own bed. The allure of flying is too much to resist. At night, when the world is quiet, the acrobat joins the black darkness of an endless sky, and claims it as his own.

His guardian is one with the night.

The petit Robin is bright light and spectacle, no matter how well he hides his colors. He is spotted first.

****

Dick didn't really remember waking up from his nap. Alfred had put him down for a cold; his head hurt, and he was sleepy all the time, so B was out without him and Dick was stuck in a too-big bed in a giant, dark mansion, all alone.

Except. At some point, Dick must have gotten out of bed. Because now he's in the chandelier.

Dick doesn't remember jumping to the chandelier. And jumping to the chandelier is hard work; it's not something he could have done in his sleep. It requires weight, heft; the shirking of gravity. The night is dark around him; there are no street lights outside of their windows to light up the hallway. The darkness makes the grand persian carpet so much farther away than it is in the daytime-- entirely, unfathomably far below him. Pale moonlight flickers across cut shards of crystal. It's Dick's own little bird's nest.

Dick and the chandelier gently sway. He doesn't notice the-- the ghost, the illusion-- for a whole minute. It just looks like moonlight, until it doesn't.

It's a body. A boy's body-- not much older than Dick. Suspended, midair.

His heart drops. But Dick doesn't scream.

For a second, there are two boys midair, silent and still in the morning moonlight.

The body raises its head. Hello, Richard.

Dick doesn't move.

I have a question for you. The body blinks sightless eyes. Does your guardian treat you well?

Dick...doesn't know what that means. He rolls his weight forward, careful, so careful not to tip himself over the edge and send him plummeting.

"...Why are you asking?"

I need something looked after, the body says. Its limbs sway in wind that isn't here. It is very precious to me.

"Oh." Well, B is Batman, sometimes. And when he's not Batman, he's Bruce Wayne, and he is in charge of a lot of people. "Yeah, he's respons- reponsbile- he does a good job. Can I see it?" Dick's interest is piqued.

The body stills. And then-- like a zombie clawing its way out of its grave, it reaches through the rotting skin of its own stomach and removes. Something.

It's a baby.

Dick leans so far forward that he almost does go toppling but he's gripping the silver of the chandelier so that he doesn't, and, look! It's a baby! It's so small and tiny and it's still purple!

"He's so new!" Dick gasps, and releases one arm from its death grip to make a grabby hand. The body only floats close enough that Dick can pet the baby's cheek with a careful finger, can feel the softness of the baby's hair.

He is my charge, the body explains. As such, he is precious to me.

The baby is so small. Dick wants to bounce him, like he's seen mamas and papas do with their little ones. "Can I hold him?"

The baby disappears back into the body. It looks like a maggot burrowing back into the corpse it's eating, and Dick is heartbroken and sick about it. No. Not until I know it's safe.

Dick pouts. Also, he needs to know how to get the baby away from the...body. Babies need a lot of light and warmth. A dead body monster can't give him that.

Your guardian played his part in making the little heir, the body says. This baby was given to me by his grandfather. His mother passed him onto her own father, and her father sold him to me.

"Oh no!" Dick gasps. That is one of the things B has had to explain to Dick, one of hundreds of terrible things that happens to people in Gotham. And it happened to B's baby?

Yes. The body floats sightlessly, thin skin sliding over too-pale eyes. I must know if he is safe before I leave the baby in his care. Will you help me?

Dick...doesn't know what that means. He bites down on the soft presence of his lip. (He tastes blood.) "How?"

The body and the baby inside it are still. Quiet. Dick is two stories off the ground, midair, and any wrong motion could be his-- his-- Dick can't even see the ground. It would hurt so much. He's so high up from the distant hardwood floor and with only ghosts to keep him company.

...It would be very scary.

Dick swallows.

Do you trust that he would come get you, if you were in danger?

Dick knows so. He nods.

Do you trust he would be smart enough to find you? Mean enough to defend you? Care enough to comfort you? the body asks.

Dick nods.

The body floats closer. Closer. Until they are almost touching-- limp limbs entangling on the crystalline arms of the chandelier. It would be very scary, if you said yes, the body admits, as heavily weighted as any corpse that cannot help you hold it. But you would be in no danger. Should your guardian succeed, I will entrust him with this precious thing.

One circus boy's fears for the safety of B's baby. It's an easy choice. Dick is Robin. He is always going to pick helping people over maybe getting hurt.

His pinky touches the cold, dead flesh of the body's.

And then Dick wakes up sweating and heaving in bed.

#ooo spooky ooky #idk kid maybe ask your dad about this before you agree to anything?? #this is why I can never finish anything #I always have like ten things in reserve #contracts signed by minors without consent are illegal DANNY #dp x dc #Danny Phantom #DC #DCU crossover

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan both catching a cold and the reader takes care of them 🥺?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie x (nearly)stepmom!reader <3 all the established relationship fluff and love i could fit into 6k cw suggestive scene (fade to black) ♥︎ eddie and roan

Eddie feels like shit when he finishes work. He's sweating so much he had to change his coveralls before getting in the car, and his head is pounding with an aggressive headache, but he pops two Tylenol with a rogue bottle of water and pulls out of the lot. He beeps at Wayne as he drives past him, and then he starts on the road that'll take him to Hawkins Elementary. 

Roan's one of the youngest in her class but she sure doesn't look small sitting on the floor of her classroom. The door to the class is open, and Eddie feels a hundred miles better than he had when she catches sight of him and smiles at him like he's the best thing sliced bread. It amazes him that she seems so happy to see him day after day, each time like it's a marvel. Almost as if she's surprised. 

"Hey," he says, bending down to catch her as she runs toward him, her cardigan soft under his hands.

"Hello," she says happily.

"Hey," he says again, and this isn't the time or place to cuddle but he does it anyway. 

He indulges himself. Hugs from his daughter always make him feel better, especially when she's ecstatic to see him. 

"Got all your stuff?" 

"Yes," she says heavily. 

"Even your water bottle?" 

She shakes her shoulders. The water bottle inside of her backpack knocks against her lunch box. "Yes!" 

"Okay– let's go home." 

She beams. Eddie puts her down on her own two feet, her new cornflower blue sneakers like flowers blooming over asphalt with each step she takes. Eddie wonders what you did with all your spare cash before you started spoiling him and his girl, and he'd asked you once. You'd been sitting on the floor of a changing room with Roan, he could see your knees in the gap under the door as he waited outside, and you'd opened the door to show off the fancy dress Roan had been trying on and said, "My savings account was much healthier, but I mostly spent it on takeout. Now I got my own private chef, I don't need to get pizza so often." 

Roan had heard the word pizza and that was it. Dress shopping was paused for the day, and the three of you shared a large Margherita in the car on the way home. 

"What do we want for dinner today?" Eddie asks, Roan's hand swinging in his. 

"What do we got?" 

"I have lots of different pasta. Or we could make chicken." There's a plastic tupperware full of wings about to go bad. "Or maybe one of Y/N's favourites?" 

Roan hops down off of the club and keeps close to Eddie's side as they cross the parking lot to his car. 

Eddie doesn't wanna tell Roan you've been having a bad week because you don't wanna tell her, and it's not fair to kids to drag them down with you, but Eddie's not going to do that. He won't tell her your problem, how work has been making you especially miserable, how your coworkers aren't exactly kind. He'll just… express that you need some extra love. 

"If we could make something for her together, that would make her so happy. She's been feeling real blue," he says tentatively. 

Roan looks up at him with a frown. "She doesn't look blue. She looks normal'd." 

"It's an expression," he says fondly. "It means she's been kinda sad." 

Roan looks up at him, thick lashes kissing the skin below her eyebrows as her eyes widen. The neck of her soft blue cardigan is falling down one of her small shoulders, and he nudges her out of the way of the car door so he can get her in it before the cold catches up with her.

"Why is she sad?" she asks. 

Her concern is clear. Eddie lifts her up under the armpits and proudly doesn't bump her head, stationing her in her car seat. She doesn't need his help getting in anymore, but old habits die hard. 

"It's like… remember when those girls were picking on Stacey K, and she wanted to stay home from school? Y/N wants to stay home from work sometimes, but she has to be a big girl just like Stacey was and keep her head up." 

"I shouted at the girls," Roan says. She sounds quizzical. 

Eddie clips her seat belt over her chest and straightens out her knitted cardigan. "You're my bravest girl, that's why. You were a really good friend for Stacey." He kisses her forehead with a sticky, "Mwah!" 

She's still giggling when Eddie closes her door and gets into the driver's seat. She tapers off as Eddie twists his key and starts the engine, and doesn't talk again until they're almost home. Eddie doesn't worry — she's listening to the kids cassette in the stereo, and she gets tired after school. Despite his best efforts he's exhausted himself. He'll ask her about school once he's in his pyjamas. 

"Could you go into her job?" 

"What?" Eddie asks, not really listening as he reverses backward into the driveway outside of your house. His house, your house together. You and him and Roan and Lucky the goldfish. 

"Could you go be brave for mom?" 

He smiles. He likes when she calls you mom more than he can put into words. "I could, but she won't let me. And it might make things worse, you know?" 

"Why would it make things worse?"

"Uh, because grown ups don't really like when you try to tell them off."

"I don't like it either." 

"I know you don't, babe." 

Eddie gets out, releases the rascal, and the two of them jog up the few gentle steps to the door. He unlocks it and Roan stands patiently by the mat for him to take off her shoes. She could do it herself, but again — old habits die hard. He loves taking care of her and doing things for her, the little things and the big. Taking her shoes off is fun for both of them. She strokes hair out of his face so he's not blind and he squeezes her sock-clad toes until she squeals. 

She makes for the living room for her after school cartoons. 

"Hey, wait, Ro! I thought you were gonna help me make dinner?" 

She grumbles but it's with a good-natured spirit, spinning on her heel but remaining in the living room. "I got to feed Lucky, daddy." 

"Oh, right. You feed the fish, I'll get some jammies." 

She nods, determined. 

"Just a pinch! We don't want him to get fat and explode!" 

"Ew!"

Eddie finishes work at 3PM to grab Roan when her elementary school ends at 3.30. You finish work at 5PM, and you don't get home most days until near 6PM. It's a big gap where they both miss you like crazy, but it usually means that dinners all done or getting there when you finally drag yourself inside. 

Eddie can't lie, he hadn't pictured himself with a business woman. Though business might be the wrong word. You work an office job, and you wear professional office clothes, and God, it gets him pretty much every day. He prefers you in your pyjamas or your day clothes, sure, but there's something about you in your little pencil skirts and your soft cashmere sweaters, make up all smudgy and wearing off, kicking your short kitten heels in a pile at the door. 

You peel out of your coat and Eddie watches from the kitchen doorway, arms scrubbed clean of grease and crossed against his chest. 

"Hi, handsome," you say, more quietly than usual. 

"Hey," he says. His throat aches a little. He puts it down to needing a drink. "Hey, sweet thing. You look tired. Want me to cheer you up?" 

"Gotta see my girl first, sorry." 

He pretends you've stabbed him, not the dramatic, fall-to-the-floor affair he might've pulled a couple of years ago, but a stabbing all the same. He rubs his heart and doesn't feel even slightly mad with you when he hears Roan's happy cry. 

"You're home!" 

"You didn't think I was coming home today?" 

"You took six years," she says severely. 

"Six!" Your cheerful laughter draws Eddie in like a moth to a light. He slides down the hall and around the stairs to watch you take Roan's face into your hands, her pale ones behind your back to keep her balance where she's standing on the couch cushions. "You don't look nearly twelve, bubby." 

Your hand climbs her face. You press it to her forehead and he can hear your frown, though he can't see your face. "Are you feeling okay, Ro?" 

Roan blinks. "I feel happy." 

"Oh, do you? That's good!" 

You pick her up, one hand behind her back and one under her butt, messy curls all in your face when Roan wraps her arms around your neck. You carry her to Eddie where he's lingering in the doorway, shifting her on your hip, a concerned tug to your brows. 

Eddie brings a hand to her forehead himself, feeling along the warm skin gently. She's hotter than she should be. 

"You're sure you feel okay?" he asks her. 

Roan is confused by the attention, but she doesn't hate it. "Yes?" 

"You feel super hot." 

"I am super hot!" she says. She throws back her shoulders and does a practised pout, a model expression, her thin eyebrows bobbing down as she tries to wink. 

You glow with love, Eddie can pretty much see it in the air as you laugh. "Super hot," you second, giggling and dropping sneaky kisses against her temple. 

"You're beautiful," Eddie says pointedly. 

"Super beautiful." 

"Where'd you even learn that?" Eddie asks. "'Hot'?" 

"You say to mom in the morning?" Roan says, like Eddie's an idiot as the three of you make you way to the kitchen. "She's so hot, and pretty, and you need to crack the window!" 

Eddie covers his mouth. "You heard that?" He meets your eyes and he knows how he looks, a rosy tint taking to his otherwise pale cheeks. 

"And when you were singing, too." 

"Oh, my god." 

You laugh like crazy, giggles bubbling out of you like a soda rocket and quickly turning to bigger, fuller peels that would usually make him laugh too. He'd serenaded you this morning, a bumpy and extremely sincere rendition of As Long As It's Not About Love. He'd been trying to convince you to come back to bed, pencil skirt and all, for one last kiss.

"Roanie, I didn't know you were awake, baby. You should come and say hi once you're up." A warning would be good.

"I was too tired to move, daddy, I already told you." 

"Yeah, dad," you say, "she already told you, so back off." 

Eddie waves his hand at both of you. "Who needs you guys? I'll just eat this delicious dinner we made by myself."

He doesn't eat dinner by himself. He pulls the tray from the oven he'd covered over and you set the table. Roan pours juice into a cup for herself and doesn't tip any of it onto the table, for which she receives a heaping mound of praise. Eddie cracks open a can of ginger ale and pours it into a darker glass so you won't spot that it isn't normal soda and worry. He'll be fine in the morning, he knows. 

When you find out they've made your favourite, you get all mushy. You wrap your arms around his neck and rub your cheeks together, and you smile around every mouthful. You eat dinner as a family, and afterwards, Eddie lets Roan fill the bath right to the top with bubbles and brushes out her curls, which hang straight with the weight of the water. He gets her out, wraps her up in a poncho, and laments the loss of her baby curls as you sidle past him to wash the bubbles out of the bath and climb in the shower.

"Her hair's not as curly as mine was when I was a kid," he says, calling to be heard over the sound of the water. He can see your silhouette behind the shower curtain, an underwater scene of dolphins and tropical fish. 

"You think it'll get straighter?" you ask between squeezes of the shampoo bottle. 

Eddie rubs Roan's cheeks dry with a face towel gently. The hot water has pretty much knocked her out, her eyes drooping. "Probably. It's already way less curly than when she was a baby." 

He picks her up. She's limp. "I'm gonna go get her dressed!" 

"Okay, handsome, I'll be right out. Make sure there's still some hot water for you." 

Eddie dresses Roan and dries her hair with a blow dryer, cold air fighting against the fatigue stealing her away. She shivers and he turns it up to the first heat, careful not to burn her scalp. Eddie could barely look after himself at nineteen, and just around seven years later he's an expert in taking care of someone else. Well, maybe not an expert. He's good, though, and he tries hard enough and with enough pure love to make up for any mistakes. 

"You're so tired, babe," he says softly, clicking off the hairdryer to rake his fingers through her still warm hair. It looks very straight now, only the ends remaining curled. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

She reminds him of the quieter girl she'd been. Roan had taken a little time to come out of her shell, tantrums aside, and meeting you had pretty much rocketed her into extrovertedness. It happened slowly and all at once — one day she was just loud, and cheerful, and so, so charming. He loves her now and he'd loved her then. Quiet Roan is like an adorable treat, but it also points to bad tidings. 

Roan is quiet when she's sick, sad, or confused. 

Eddie's betting it's the first. He presses his hand against her forehead but of course she's warm, she'd been in a warm bath only twenty minutes ago. 

She doesn't answer him. She looks small in her big princess bed, her sheer cherry pink curtains hanging down to compliment the brand new and puffy quilt he'd bought for winter. Her legs are crossed, one bare foot sticking out. Eddie crouches in front of her, scratching the sole of her foot with his pinky nail to make her smile. 

"There's my girl." He flicks her knee. "You want me to read you something, sweetheart? I don't think we're gonna make it to the couch tonight." 

"Can we have Bad Cat Saves the World?" she asks. 

Eddie drags her up to the huge pillows against the headboard and pushes her chest mildly. She tips back into the pillows with a pleased huff. Her lack of outrage clues him in. 

Roan is sick. 

"You can have anything you want if you drink some water before bed." 

"Wugh," she says. 

"That's almost a real word. Good job, babe." 

"Thank you." 

—

You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself quickly. The bathroom is thick with heat, so you push open the window and stand in the cold breeze. The window must be open in Roan's room, you realise, when you hear the dulcet tones of Eddie's reading voice floating toward you. 

"And Bad Cat said, no, Mr. President, I'm the one flying the plane! He wiggled his whiskers and pushed the wheel left with one of his ginger paws, the aeroplane shooting through the sky at top speed. I'm going to save the world, Bad Cat cried." 

Eddie does the best voices, truly. He's high and low, scratchy and sweet. He takes all the right pauses and kicks it up a notch at the most exciting parts, reading line after line in a whirl. Your skin feels dry and chapped as his voice begins to quieten; you've listened for too long. 

You step into your shared bedroom, pull on some underwear but no bra, and try to lotion up before he comes in and sees you naked. You don't know if he'll have Roan with him. The door creaks open and you squeak, forcing yourself deeper into the wardrobe you'd been searching through. 

"I'm not dressed!" you say. 

It wouldn't really matter if Roan saw you naked, she's just a baby and you're a family, but there's nothing wrong with having the boundary there either. Luckily there's no Roan in tow with Eddie either way. 

"Is that a promise?" he asks, and his eyes light up when he enters. 

You cross your arm over your chest and dig for a t-shirt to wear. 

"Don't look, perv." 

"We're getting married," he says. "I've seen it all already." 

"I don't care, perv, stay back." You slip a loose t-shirt over your head and bend down again for some pyjama pants. 

It doesn't matter what you say. Eddie comes up behind you where you're bending over and leans into you, arms needling around your waist, one greedy hand under your shirt and squeezing the soft roll of your stomach. You shoot up and smile at him from over your shoulder. It's odd. Despite what you'd joked, you don't mind him seeing you undressed. How could you? You've loved one another for longer than you ever could've imagined, in ways you didn't know people did. You know Eddie thinks you're beautiful, and you don't look like someone from the magazines. They're two coinciding facts. 

"She's sleeping?" you ask. 

"She wiped out completely. I think she might be coming down with something." 

You frown. "Poor baby." 

"It's alright. We'll take care of it as it comes." 

"We will." You nudge the tip of his nose with yours, aware of how quiet the house is, and how much you've missed him all day. "Are we going to bed, too?" 

His hands come up. It's not not sexual, but it's more intimate than anything else as he grabs at the soft skin of your torso and then, tentatively, your chest. 

Your lips drift closer and closer, and when he kisses you it's achingly slow, close-lipped. He pulls your back to his front and your crane your neck, hands covering his hands, eyes shuttering as he gets a little more insistent. It can only be a couple of seconds, held-breath heart-pounding seconds that make your tummy roll with heat, before he's pulling away. 

"Baby, I think I might be coming down with something, too." 

It takes a second for his words to calibrate. "You're sick?"

"My head's been pounding all day. I want you, but– I don't wanna get you sick," he says. He sounds so torn. 

"You're sure it's not a one day thing?" you ask, frowning. 

He swallows a lump in his throat. "Regretfully." 

If he's sick, and Roan's sick, you can't get sick too. It would throw a huge spanner in the works. Eddie's immune system is a sinking ship on a normal day. When he gets sick, it's bad. 

You untangle yourself from Eddie's grasp and feel his disappointment. It's sweet that he wants to keep you from the same fate as him. 

You take his face into your hands. 

"Go take a shower, handsome, and then…" You stare straight into his eyes, brown honey ringed with light. "We won't kiss. Or, you won't kiss me on the lips. Yeah?" 

He pulls your hand from his cheek to squeeze your fingers, a tight bunching full of promise. "Yeah. It's gonna break my heart–" 

"I'm sure," you say. 

"–but I'll make it up." 

You walk backwards out of his arms and flop languidly into the clean white sheets on your bed, toying with the bottom of your t-shirt. "Whatever you say, bub." 

Eddie sets the record for world's quickest shower that night. 

—

Eddie wakes up. He's expecting that post-sex bonelessness, like every bit of tension has been pulled from him by your delicate fingers, but instead feels as if he'd been hit by a truck. Last night had been the total opposite of rough. It isn't the sex that's messed him up. 

He's sick. 

Shit, he thinks, rubbing his dry face with a hand warmed by your back. 

You lay over his chest, your lips to his heart, the dark tattoo covering it. One hand crushed under your side curls weakly by his hip, and the other is hidden pretty much inside his armpit. He snorts at you and your blank expression, but smiles when he remembers the sweet, soft way you'd looked at him last night, your eyelashes heavy with unshed happy tears, your arms tight around his shoulder blades like you'd worried he'd disappear. He hadn't been able to kiss you like he wanted to, lips on your lips and just a little too much tongue, but he'd found the next best thing on the slope of your shoulder. He nudges your shirt down so he can peer at the poor scandalization of skin, that purple-red mess of burst capillaries wrought by his eager nibbling. 

As much as Eddie would like to laze about with you in the afterglow at night, you're grown-ups. Which isn't to say he doesn't get his hugs in after, he does —he cuddles you, lays praise down thick, blushes without fail when you do the same— but he and you have a whole post-fuck routine; cleaning up, throwing the towel in the washing machine, changing the sheets if you need to. 

Eddie will peek his head into Roan's room to check she's still sleeping, and, exhausted, the two of you go back to bed and fall asleep yourselves. He doesn't enjoy getting back into his pyjamas afterward, missing your skin pretty much instantly, but it's necessary, and proves to be when Roan pushes into your room that morning unannounced.

Eddie sits up and tries not to disturb you, finger to his lips. 

"My stomach hurts," she says. 

He eases you off of his chest and into the cool sheets where you usually sleep. He swings his legs around and finds it takes a lot more effort than usual. 

"Yeah? Hungry hurts or like you need the bathroom hurts?" 

"Just hurts," she says insistently. 

Eddie stands, tucks you in as fast as he's able and turns to Roan. She stands at the end of the bed unsurely, hair at her neck curled up with sweat, her usually white face an unfortunate pink. He puts his arms out for her, groaning when he pulls her up his chest, her knees either side of his hip. She wants a hug and Eddie wants a second to digest what's happening, so he stops right there in the middle of the room and hugs her too his chest. 

"Think you might be sick, baby," he says gently. 

"Do I get the strawberry medicine?" she asks. 

"Depends. Can you stop when you want to?" 

"What?" 

He laughs to himself. He wishes you were awake to laugh too, but he lets you sleep. "Yeah, you can have the strawberry medicine. How bad is it hurting, huh? Does your throat hurt?" 

"Maybe." 

He frowns at her tearful voice. "Oh, no… and your toes, are they orange?" 

"Don't think so," Roan says, stretching one of her legs out and analysing her toes. 

"Good," he says, giving you one last glance before he moves to the stairs, carrying Roan down them one careful step at a time. He doesn't trust his heavy head. "I thought for a second you had Alienitis." 

"Alien-ites?" she asks. 

He nods sagely, flicking on the hallway light as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "It starts with a bad tummy, and then you start to turn orange from the toes until all your skin is shiny and slimy like a pool toy, and then your throat hurts." 

He turns on the kitchen light and sets Roan down on the counter near the fridge. 

"But you already have a bad tummy and a sore throat, so you definitely don't have Alienitis." He beams at her relieved face. "Thank the heavens." 

He peels the thermometer off of the fridge. It's a magnet, made of paper, and you press it to your kids forehead and let it sit for a minute before you read it. He slaps it on her with a pretend aggression to make her laugh, and they both wait for it to warm up. Eddie looks down at her. She looks up. 

"Come here often?" he asks. 

"All the time. Do you?" 

"Sometimes, yeah. See the game last night?"

"Which game?" she asks, pert nose wrinkling in confusion. 

"Any of them?" 

"I saw you and Y/N do the dishes dance." 

"How'd you rate that? Out of ten?" 

"You dropped your bowl." 

"A five, then." 

Roan presses her lips together. "She's always better." 

"That's not fair, my hands get all soapy from the water." 

Roan's temperature is a solid 102. 

"It's official, you're sick." He rubs her cheek, her ear, her hair soft under his hand. "But I'm gonna fix you right up good as new, babe, so don't worry." 

Roan leans back against the microwave oven and huffs forlornly. 

"Hey, it'll be fine. It's gonna be better than fine, Ro. We'll make sure you have lots of yummy drinks and medicine and I'm sure if we ask really nicely your mom'll make her soup, and…" He loves how much Roan loves you, leaning in to emphasise the importance of what he's about to say. "She'll snuggle with you all. Day. Long." 

"She will?" 

Is she kidding? The second you find out Roan has a temperature, he'll have to pry you away from her with a crowbar. 

"She will." 

"Can we wake her up?" 

He thinks about it. You've had a really hard week. You deserve to rest and catch up with the sleep you've been missing out on, but Roan's the confessed light of your life and she wants you. If he doesn't wake you up, you'll only ask why not.

"How about I put you on the couch with some TV and I'll go wake her up, and see how she's feeling?" 

Roan pouts. "I want to." 

He'd hoped to sneak in a hug, considering how his legs and arms and head are aching. But he finds it hard to be selfish when Roan looks the way she does now, her eyes pleadingly wide, thin brows threaded together at the starts. She puts her hands together. 

"Okay, you can do it. But try to be nice. No shouting in her ears. This is strictly a hug operation." 

Roan screws her hands in his shirt and he sets her down. She tiptoes down the hall, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom, Eddie behind her all the while unbearably enamoured. 

He helps her climb into your bed. You've twisted onto your back now, and Roan carefully crawls to your side, snuggling up under the arm that isn't covered by blankets. You don't wake at first, but Roan rubs your tummy, whispers, "Please wake up, Y/N," and you rouse like magic. Your eyes remain closed by life flares into your limbs, arms wrapping around Roan, pulling her onto your stomach and chest automatically. 

"I got a tummy ache," Roan says, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Your eyes open. Eddie suspects you don't even know he's there, your gaze locking onto Roan's. 

"Yeah? What's the matter, princess, do you need me to pat your back?" 

"No… it's all twisty. We took my tempa-chure and I'm too hot." 

You look first to your side where Eddie usually lies. 

"Over here, sweetness." 

You push yourself into a sitting position with Roan locked to your front, pressing the back of your free hand to her head as you look to him for confirmation. 

"One oh two," he says. 

You sit her in your lap and flatten out her frizzy hair uselessly. Your frown melds to a put upon smile, a mom face. It says everything's going to be okay.

"Well, we better fix you up then, huh? We'll havta call Uncle Wayne for some of his tools," —you clear your throat, the tired scratchiness in your voice ebbing— "and tighten all your screws again. How's that sound?" 

"I'm not a car," she laughs. 

"What? Since when?" 

You're soft in the mornings. Your eyes are swollen and puffy still, your voice a quiet but earnest hum. You look up over her head and he knows what you're thinking. 

"I'm okay," he says easily. "I'll go get the phone." 

Roan laughs full-belly. "Guys! I am not a car!" 

"You beep like one," you say, pretending to honk her nose. "Beep beep." 

It's the calm before the storm. 

—

Roan cries and cries and cries. She's in your lap again, but this time you're downstairs on the couch with her softest throw blanket and a pillow, rubbing her poor tummy. You've spent the day waiting for her to throw up, but no dice yet. Eddie's trying very hard to help you out, though he's practically paralysed by a migraine in the armchair. Each rattle of Roan's sobbing makes him wince. 

You have her propped against your chest, her shoulders heaving. There's an empty bucket used for washing the dishes at your feet. Roan is adamant she won't be sick. 

"Do you want to go to the bathroom again?" you ask softly, rubbing her trembling arms in hopes of soothing her. 

"No, I don't need to," she insists, "just hurts. I want more medicine, mommy." 

You crumple like wet tissues. "I know, princess. Another hour and you can have more, I promise." 

"I want it now."

"It's okay, Roan," Eddie says, jaw clenched but not a hint of anger in his voice. "You're alright, bub, you just need to calm down. All this crying is gonna make it worse." 

You hum your agreement. "Your dad's right. Let's try to calm down, should we? Is there something we can do to calm down? Maybe we should drink some more of dad's ginger ale, that might be yummy." 

"Let me take her," Eddie says. His skin is pale and waxy, sweat shimmering in the light across his brow and top lip.

You nibble your cheek. "Sweetheart," you say, and mean it intensely, "you can go up to bed if you need to." 

"I'm fine. Come on, give me back my girl. I'm gonna fix her with a magic spell." 

You try to transfer Roan from your lap to his. You've seen Eddie's spells in action, how he whispers words you don't don't know from a game he plays with his friends every other week, or every other other week when life is busy, pressing raspberries into the nape of her neck and tickling her arms. They're a surefire way to cure an owie. 

Roan doesn't want a magic spell, she wants medicine. She sobs and turns in your arms, seeking your comfort. She buries her face in the soft fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Eddie stands up to help, stricken by her increasing volume, and abruptly has to sit back down. 

"Eddie," you say, more severely than you mean to. "Sit down." 

"Sitting," he mumbles, dropping his head down between his knees, hands in his hair. 

He quickly lifts it with a groan. 

"Shit," he says. 

You shush Roan gently, lips near her ear. Your hand rubs a steadfast line down the curve of her spine, and when it comes back up you take a deep breath. You don't know if Roan understands what you're doing or if her pain simply starts to lessen, but long, tense minutes unravel into half an hour and she thankfully calms down, dipping into sleep after you dot her damp forehead with kisses.

"Eddie," you say, when you're sure she's knocked out. "Baby, are you okay?" 

"I'm sorry," he says, lifting his sweaty face from his hand. He looks heartbreakingly ill. 

"That's okay, I don't want any sorrys." 

"I didn't mean to make you deal with that alone." 

"Well, I wasn't alone," you say. "You're sitting right there." 

He presses the backs of his hands to his eye sockets and breathes out hard. You can't reach him with your hands, so you extend your leg until your ankle rubs against his. 

"You have a stomach ache?" 

"I think I have everything," he says. 

You pull Teddy, Roan's one eared teddy bear, off of the seat beside you, and then move the pillows and bowl of food Roan hadn't managed to eat to the other side. 

"Come and sit by me," you coax gently. 

Eddie looks stiff as a board as he stands and walks to the couch. He sits down slow, leaning back slower. He looks at the ceiling before he turns his neck to face you, one eye screwed shut. You suspect his migraine is pretty much debilitating him at this point. 

"Okay?" you murmur. 

"I'll live. Hopefully." 

He chuckles but stops with another sore wince. 

You drop your hand onto his knee. He looks sad. He looks like he's gonna pass out.

"Baby, you gotta tell me how bad you're feeling," you say,  nearly singing the words, hoping to inject that little bit of lightness he's missing back onto his pretty lips. 

"It's just my head–" 

"Thought it was everything?" 

"–is gonna explode," he concludes, flopping his face into your arm, one of his hands cupping Roan's back beside yours. 

"I'm really sorry, my love," you murmur. 

He huffs. He knows, as you know, that you're not sorry in that you think you made him sick. You're sorry that he's sick, sorry he's in any pain at all, sorry that Roan's down for the count as well. 

He turns his lips to your shoulder and leaves them there. 

"Everything's gonna be fine." 

"I know it, sweet thing." His voice sounds like it's made of crushed glass. 

When Eddie finally falls asleep, Roan wakes. You're damp everywhere they touch you— they're like two huge hot water bottles. Roan scrunches awake and you're sorry to do it, but you push Eddie away from you and climb out from under his weight, taking his mini me to the kitchen where the strawberry medicine calls her name. You plop her down in her chair with the cushion on the seat and spoon medicine into her mouth. She's too tired to realise she doesn't really like it. 

You wet the corner of a hand towel and wipe the sticky dribble off of her chin. You're patting her clammy forehead when she looks up. 

"Thanks, mommy," she says.

You frame her face, hand towel pressed to the side of her head. 

"You're welcome." You lean forward, tap your nose into hers. "I love you." 

You say it stretchy and sweet, like taffy. She lights up at the sound.

"I love you more," she says.

"No way, madam. I love you more than anybody." 

"I love you to the moon," she tries. 

"To the moon! I love you to the sun, then." 

"Is that further away?" she questions. 

You stroke her hair back from her face with your free hand, wrists on her shoulders. You do it nicely, fingers tangling in the downy soft strands of her curls, no rush to be anywhere but here. 

"It's a million trillion miles away," you guess. 

"Woah. That much?" 

You nod, head bobbing, "That much and more." 

"That's a lot of love," she says. Like a kid standing at the precipice of the world's biggest candy store, staring out at a million different shelves, a rainbow of colour reflected on her feverish cheeks. But she's not in a candy store at all, she's looking at you. 

"So much," you say, smiling. 

"Mmm… Woah." 

"Girls?" comes Eddie's voice, calling from the living room. "Everything cool?"

"Dad!" Roan shouts. "Guess what? Y/N said she loves me to the sun and it is a million'd miles away! That's more than the moon away!" 

Eddie groans. "Wait a second, don't be lovely without me. I'm…" His voice drops to a mutter. "I'm a weak man."

You wait but don't hear any footsteps. 

"Think we better go kiss him better, Ro," you say. 

She goes all shy. "Will you carry me again?" 

"Hm, let me think." 

You swoop her up into your arms so fast she's immediately hysterical, giggling at the sudden vertigo. 

"Girls," Eddie whines. "I can't get up. Stop having fun without me." 

"We're on our way with Tylenol!" you call. 

"I don't want Tylenol, I want love to the sun, or whatever." 

You princess carry Roan into the living room and settle back down in your seat next to Eddie, who, despite desperately needing the Tylenol you've brought with you, takes the kisses you offer first, featherlight kisses, all over his cheek. 

"That definitely wasn't enough," he says. He looks at you from between his lashes, slamming them shut again when he notices you watching. "C'mon girls, I'm sick."

"So's Roan and she's not making demands."

"I never said I was a good person, you know? I'm desperate." 

You give him one last kiss. He waves his hand and Roan gives him another. 

He sighs through a happy, sleepy smile. "Thank you. Now that felt like love to the sun." 

—

Bad Cat is a character from Stephen Chbosky's novel Imaginary Friend that I borrowed, he isn’t mine! thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging because it means so much to me <3<3<3<3

#eddie and roan #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie munson x reader #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie x mom!reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic

[stevieschrodinger]

Wayne's been watching this shit show unfold for over a week now. Watching Steve Harrington stroke Eddie's hair back, hold his hand, call him 'sweetheart.'

Rush in with snacks and cups of ice chips and, sometimes, reading to Eddie. He's slow and trips over his words sometimes, but he isn't shy over that and definitely doesn't let it stop him.

He's so committed to the act that, honestly, Wayne would be fooled.

But he isn't fooled. He knows that Eddie's had a crush on that boy for literally years and absolutely nothing has ever come of it. Christ, Wayne once forked over real, cold hard cash, so that Eddie could get a year book one year just to have a picture of Steve. So Wayne knows exactly how bad Eddie had it.

Even if Steve Harrington, up to this point, had been a grade A Asshole.

But.

Wayne has to put a stop to this now. They were talking about discharging Eddie. Speaking practically. He's going to need space. He probably won't be making it up any steps any time soon. He's going to need a practical place to get discharged too, somewhere where there will be someone to keep an eye on him most of the time.

The place they are describing is very much not the trailer.

And Steve had immediately volunteered. No hesitation whatsoever with that boy. His dedication to the lie is...pretty mind-blowing.

So now, now is the moment Wayne has to interfere, because this is a step too far.

He hasn't spoken to Steve much yet, and he hasn't spent any time alone with the kid, but he ups and follows when Wayne nods his head to the doorway and asks for a word. They move off together, finding a quieter bit of hallway.

'Steve, look, this is too much-'

'No, it's fine, honestly, I've got a downstairs room Eddie can use, and the bathroom-'

'I know this whole thing is a lie.'

Steve visibly crumbles for a second before getting back into character, 'Mr. Munson-'

'Wayne-'

'Mr. Wayne Munson-'

Wayne shakes his head, 'Jesus Christ, /just/ Wayne kid.'

'Right, yeah, but Eddie can come and stay with me, it's fine, definitely not a lie-'

'I meant you being his boyfriend. That lie.'

The kid scrambles and Wayne genuinely doesn't know how anyone is falling for this, the kid wears every emotion and thought so openly, 'no,no, we were just keeping it quiet l, it's -'

'Son,' and Wayne hates to be stern about this but he really really needs to, 'I found scraps of paper with Edward Harrington scribbled on them, like Eddie was practicing his signature. I found them /four/ years ago. What is your plan here? What do you think is going to happen when you rip the plaster off? He's going to be devastated. Or worse, what if he remembers on his own and you've been lying to him? To everyone?'

'I-' Steve starts but then clearly has no where to go with that because, as Wayne is fully aware, there is no plan, 'I can't do anything about it if he remembers, just hope that he forgives me. But otherwise, I was just thinking the plaster could just...stay on. There's no reason to remove the plaster-'

'Kid, I hate to tell you this, but you've got a bit of a reputation. Eddie was in a foul mood for nearly a fortnight when you started going steady with that Nancy girl, honestly, he was going through the stages of grief-'

'And that's exactly why we're not going to tell him. Eddie deserves to be happy and I'm...not like that. Anymore.'

Wayne rubs the bridge of his nose, 'I don't even know where to start with this. You- He- I mean. This is such a bad idea.'

Steve nods, fully committed, 'I know. I'm doing it anyway.'

Wayne gives up.

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #headcanon #ficlet #wayne munson #wayne pov #fake dating

[stealingyourbones]

Hey Bones, I saw your thing about a Bat family member becoming a ghost and it reminded me of a very heart breaking au a friend and I came up with a while back that I don't remember if I submitted or not. Either way, be prepared to have your heart broken.

Tim is dead. He's been dead for a while actually. But No one seems to have noticed. He looks and feels just as solid as he did before he died, even if he's got a lower body temperature and doesn't seem to get hurt on patrol beyond bumps and bruises. Never anything that would land him in med Bay, never anything that would make his family check on him.

No one has noticed the way he doesn't eat anymore, or the fact he doesn't sleep. He's extended his patrol hours and cut back on time at Wayne Enterprises. He's pretty sure not even Alfred noticed. He knows the Kryptonians aren't worried about him not having a heart beat and they have no reason to tell anyone. They know he has a special device that can hide him from their senses and tests it on Kon a lot to make him focus on spacial awareness beyond his hearing. He used it a lot before he died. They just think he hasn't turned it off in a while.

Tim remembers how he died. Not fully, but there are pieces. He remembers he was fighting someone on a bridge and he didn't call for back up because he thought he could handle it. He doesn't remember who he thought he could handle. He remembers something stinging his arm. A bug? No a bug couldn't bite through Kevlar, it was a needle. Then everything started going dark and he was stumbling back. His back hit something hard and he tiped over it. He thought he could land on the other side. He remembers wondering why his suit felt so damp and heavy as the world went black around him.

Tim's body is still at the bottom of the bay where it will likely stay forever with so, so many other bodies. It makes Tim wonder, why him? Why not everyone else who ended up down there? Why not everyone who has died in Gothem? Did he come back like Jason did, is it something to do with being a vigilante? Tim checks his own pulse again while he's alone. Yep. Still dead. He continues on his patrol and tries to shove those thoughts away.

So what if Tim's dead? He's still here and he still has work to do. His family is full of detectives. If they can't figure out that something as important as death has happened to one of their own? Well then Tim thinks they need to pay more attention. He ignores the pain that curls in the back of his mind at that thought.

It's been 6 months. Why hasn't anyone noticed? Tim can't help but wonder if they ever will.

Howdy its me @bonebrokebuddy answering. I'm Twone's (twin bones) twin who is helping answer asks because this fucker has like, over 100 of them in her ask box and I help her with making prompt ideas frequently so she trusts me to not horribly fuck up her account.

This is my first answer for her I've written because I had my screen on low brightness and on darkmode, so your profile jump scared the shit out of me when I scrolled past it. Therefore im answering this one first.

Anywho, from my chronic inability to write angst here goes: Tim died, came back and none of the Bats seemed to care. So what? It's not like his best friends hadn't done the same thing. And he was tired and sick of the Bats thinking his entire life revolved around them.

So he packed up his bags and headed to Kansas.

The Bats might not be worried but neither was Kon or Bart. They're actually thrilled after getting over their initial grief that Tim now has also personally experienced death and came back. The funeral was a rather small, breif, and quiet afar. Kon made sure to help locate Tim's corpse and Bart helped with the eulogy (surprisingly heartfelt and moved them all to tears.)

Sure, they're sad that Tim died but he's right in front of them, it's a little more difficult to morn when you've been laughing at said dead guy who got stuck halfway through phasing out of the wall. And now Tim can keep track with them!

Kon is a little pissed that Tim can now go intangible and escape his TTK so he can't take away Tim's coffee anymore. But it's kinda worth it. The first time he took Rob on his favorite flight path, he's never wanted anything else than to hear Tim's breathless laugh and see his frighteningly perfect smile again. They now often go on flights together, high above the clouds with no-one else but them for thousands of miles around. (it almost felt like a date)

Bart knew this would happen one day. He was from the future, of course he knew that Tim Drake, formerly Red Robin, died at age 19 and changed his alias to The Grey Ghost. It doesn't mean that Bart doesn't morn the passing of his friend. Tim means a lot to him and the brief guilt that he did not stop Tim's death also quickly passes. He can finally show Tim that hiding space in the walls that no one else can get to without phasing through the wall! One other thing. Bart is unsure if Kon has noticed yet, which he knows Kon isn't the most observant of the old young justice crew but he has to have noticed it by now. Ever since Tim left Gotham he's developed an insane appetite despite claiming that he didn't need to eat while in Gotham and also being dead so why does he need to eat? (Unknown to Bart, Kansas doesn't have as much ambient ectoplasm as Gotham and Tim is starting to experience the withdraw symptoms. If the trio don't realize how to fix Tim's worsening symptoms soon, Tim might actually die for good this time.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny phantom #seersnake #ones replies #twones replies #bones replies #dont worry ill make the tagging system confusing quICK #I POSTED IT BEFORE IT WAS DONE FUCK #okay fixed it.