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sp0o0kylights · 13 days

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Eddie was all about desecrating corpses.

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt.

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors.

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs.

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to.

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man.

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess.

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig.

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely.

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing.

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets.

They understood things like appearance and public reputation.

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that.

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so.

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation.

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne.

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too.

Eddie would be damned without him.

But he knows his uncle needs help.

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way.

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar.

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time.

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills.

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.)

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say.

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough.

Sometimes it was fetching information.

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk.

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built?

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months?

Who was even paying for it?

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up.

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over.

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch.

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer.

"A retrieval, Double D."

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said.

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take.

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.)

“Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player.

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall.

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it.

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked.

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire.

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style.

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react.

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest.

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it.

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up.

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…”

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front.

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after.

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there.

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive.

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station.

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.”

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout.

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong.

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.”

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.”

“That too.”

#this is a two parter #the second part has the steddie lol #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #season 3 AU #sorta #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #I mean really how did he get his keys back #breaking and entering #you cannot tell me eddie wasn't drawn to starcourts remains like a moth to a flame

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emeraldkniight · 2 months

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Hi this is my first time requesting! Can you write a Damian Wayne NSFW where it’s my first time meaning the family he is stressed out and needs relaxing. (But the bat fam is home for the holidays) so no noises. I hope this makes sense!! Thank you so much love your writing!!!

— 𝓣𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ✧!! eng.

older!damian wayne x fem!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀… drabble. porn with plot. smut. dirty talk, fingering, p in v.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁. . . no copying of my work is allowed. Free translation is allowed as long as I am credited.

𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲. . . as I said in my other posts, English is not my first language. I have tried to make corrections with the translator, but as you all know, it is prone to making mistakes, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or if anything sounds weird.

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲… I'm so tired with college that I didn't even have time to proofread it properly. An apology for that ;(

For a long time, Wayne Manor was the home of several people who, as they grew up and matured, moved on to other places to perform their duties as vigilantes. As a result, the mansion has had three primary owners: Bruce and Damian Wayne, as well as Alfred Pennyworth, the mansion's butler, now considered part of the family. Meanwhile, the others came and went on the grounds of the mansion. Holidays were one of the most important times when the whole family was finally together.

When Damian explained it to you in a simple way, despite not being a member of the detective clan, you could easily deduce how stressful it would be for your poor boyfriend to have the whole family at home for a week or two; so you offered to go and keep him company. Unfortunately, you never thought he would take you up on your offer.

It was the moment you found yourself on the huge bed in his room that you realized how stressful this situation would be for Damien. His face reflected incredible discomfort as he stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his hips.

You couldn't help but feel assaulted by the fleeting physical beauty that young Wayne possessed. Aside from the fact that only a towel encircled his waist, leaving the line of defined abs completely exposed, every inch of his body with such masculine features stood out when he showered...and when he was in a bad mood.

In a bad mood as it is now.

He hadn't said a word since he came out of the bathroom. He just walked over to where you were lying and moved in until he was completely on top of you, so close that you could not even move your body without running the risk of brushing an inch of his skin.

Immediately, he moved closer until his lips reached the exposed skin of your neck. You longed for his warmth, but you were still afraid that someone might hear you with so many people in the mansion.

— Damian... someone might hear us — You told him quietly as you tried to pull his lips away from your face.

— That's not a problem... — He said, admiring you with his deep green eyes. — Only if you know how to keep quiet.

The seriousness of his words sent an electric current down your spine. Your heart pounded against your chest and quickened as you felt Damian's breath on your pants and soon the sound of the zipper coming down.

Not long after that, he was so deep inside you that he had to cover your lips with his hand to keep you completely silent.

You knew it was a bad idea. You did it mostly because Damian needed it to relieve his stress, but sooner or later the pleasurable sensation deep in your stomach that prevented you from making a sound would suffocate you.

A finger slipped between your wet lips to give you some kind of incentive. He slid his thumb around your throbbing clit, leaving you stunned and breathing fast, so close to cum that even the gentle touch began to feel sensitive.

Later, he moved the hand that was silencing your sounds away from your face, but when the air hit your lungs again, he came closer and stuck his tongue deep into your mouth and gave you an embracing kiss.

— Shh, it's okay, beloved. You can do this. — He murmured, admiring you with malice reflected in his eyes.

#dc comics #dc universe #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne smut #batboys #smut

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orionremastered · 5 months

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Damian Wayne x Paramedic!Reader

Soulmate AU

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

CW: Poisoning, respiratory failure (just another Tuesday in Gotham)

When you were born, your parents were eager to see the first words of your soulmate written on your left forearm. You were woken from your sleep, wrapped in a soft blanket, when your mother gently took out your arm from the fluffy fabric.

Yet when she saw the words- no, word, singular- she paled. Your father leaned over and froze to a statue. Written on your wrist was;

Poison.

Yet your family's reaction wasn't even comparable to the confusion felt by the Al Ghul's in Nanda Parbat. When Talia read the words on her son's forearm, she could feel her heart stop for a moment.

You need to breathe.

The first words that the soulmate of Damian- the next Demon Head, next leader of the League of Assassins and the most intimidating and highly-trained man on Earth- would ever say to him shook Talia and Ra's to their core.

And once Damian was old enough to know what it meant, it shook him too.

Twenty Two Years Later...

The day started out as normal; you say hello to Harper, your partner in your ambulance unit, handing him a coffee before getting into the ambulance for a long twelve hour day shift, the day after Halloween.

"I don't want to be here," Harper says immediately.

"Neither," you reply before you pull out of the station and out into the street.

Not two seconds later, a beep sounds and Harper reads from the computer beside him; "Twenty-two year old male has collapsed and is struggling to breathe. Wayne Tower building on the top floor- that elevator better be in service or you're crashing this ambulance into a brick wall."

You snort, flicking on lights and sirens due to the nature of the incident and speed off towards the tower. You don't even need directions; the building looms over the entire city like a god and is a beacon of wealth- something two underpaid paramedics definitely do not have.

Arriving on scene and parking the ambulance hastily so that the back doors opened right next to the entrance, the two of you pull out the stretcher and rush into the building, many thoughts filling your mind as you reach the elevator- luckily in service- and hit the button for the top floor.

What could it be? Countless nights spent studying rather than sleeping fill your head as you sort through knowledge.

The elevator seemed to take forever, and maybe it did- this tower is extremely tall after all. You and Harper exchange glances just before the doors open.

Moving swiftly to the meeting room, full of businessmen in suits, your gazes are immediately drawn to the man on the floor.

Damian Wayne. Probably one of the few people who never needs to introduce himself.

He's not just struggling to breathe; you reckon he's paralyzed, too. Something sours in your gut as you crouch behind his head, Harper at his feet.

The Wayne's eyes lock onto yours as he takes in a raspy breath. "Poison," he chokes out. The words don't register just yet as the two of you lift him up from the floor and onto the stretcher.

"You need to breathe," you chide, and swear his eyes widen the slightest fraction. Harper straps him to the stretcher before giving you a nod. The only other person more famous than Damian follows you when you and Harper walk out with the stretcher. Bruce Wayne.

The elevator ride seems even slower going down. Bruce grips the side of the stretcher, knuckles white as Damian fights for each breath he wishes to take. But every second or so, Bruce's gaze flicks to you and makes you prickle with unease. Soon you realise Harper is doing the same thing.

Why- It hits you like a semi truck hitting a motorcyclist without a helmet on a highway. Damian Wayne's first word to you was 'poison', the same as it is written on your forearm.

The elevator dings and the door slides open. When you finally get him into the ambulance, Harper tosses you the keys without a word and settles beside the stretcher in the back, Bruce beside him.

You'll thank Harper later; right now, you need to get your soulmate to hospital.

"You should go check on him," Harper says at the end of your shift after handing the keys to the next crew. The two of you walk to the parking lot, tired and still processing the things you've seen. "Like, now. You've been angsty all shift."

"How can I not be?" you sigh. "Yeah, I guess I will, then. See you in two days."

Getting in your car, you pull out the parking lot and out into Gotham. The sky's getting dark- or darker- and the traffic is thinning. No one wants to be out at night, especially first responders. Yet instead of going straight home like normal, you drive to Gotham General Hospital.

The lady at the front desk frowns slightly when you ask for Damian Wayne. It's understandable; you're practically a nobody yet you're one of the most important people in the city.

"You are not immediate family or friends," the nurse says after a long back and forth. You bit your lip to stop yourself from saying anything you'll regret, but then again, she's a nurse. Nurses and paramedics don't get along.

"She's allowed," a low voice says from the hallway. Bruce Wayne, now changed into more comfortable clothing, looks almost as tired as you. Almost. He beckons for you to follow, leaving the nurse at the front desk flustered.

Damian's ward is private and more... luxury, if that's even a word used in the sense of hospitals. He's still asleep, and you find yourself checking his vitals with a glance. Not too bad, all things considered. He's definitely breathing better.

A weight lifts from you chest as you take a seat beside his bed. Bruce sits beside you in almost a casual way, yet you couldn't be further apart.

"What was it?" you say after a long moment of silence.

"Pardon?"

"The poison. He said it was poison."

"... right. It was curare," Bruce responds, rubbing his eyes. "Someone poisoned him with curare."

The only question left to answer now was who.

~~~

Masterlist

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #batfam #batfamily #bruce wayne #batman #x reader

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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year

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Eddie Munson does do the whole rock star thing, but it doesn't quite go the way it did in the daydreams of a sixteen-year-old kid trying to stay awake in school.

He leaves Hawkins after the world doesn't end, gets himself out there, takes all the hurt and fear and fucked up shit and puts it into a handful of good enough songs to get himself signed.

It's not quite the genre he grew up with, not quite something any of his idols might have played, but only because it is so entirely Eddie, so influenced by where he's been and what he's seen that it kind of doesn't fit one specific influence.

It's new and it's good, is the point. Really good. And he skyrockets fast enough to give himself the spins.

He's recognizable and then he's famous and then he's too famous and too young to know what to do with it and too far from home and everyone he loves to really cope with it and it's just.

Eddie isn't built for it. Eddie hasn't even processed the fact that he was maybe supposed to die in that place, or the fact that he did watch people better than him actually die, but he's out here shooting to the top of the charts and being called the next big thing and it's too much.

It's just enough, at the end of it all, for him to self-sabotage his way out of being more than a one-hit wonder.

One big hit, a contract broken by the guys at the top with the fancy lawyers because Eddie has become the too much thing, just like always, and it's over as quick as it started.

He disappears, becomes one of those whatever happened to him? he was supposed to be the next big thing? stories that travel by word of mouth and then fade with the shift in conversation.

So what does happen to Eddie Munson?

He falls hard, he hits rock bottom, he crawls his way home to an uncle who deserved for Eddie to really make it, make him proud, have him financially set for life and get him into a real house with two stories and a garage to park the truck in, maybe even a yard for a dog.

He spirals and isolates and falls apart and stops letting himself make music at all and makes some personal choices that will probably have lasting effects on him for the rest of his life and then somewhere along the line a girl with hair like tangerines and terrible aim manages to smack him with her cane and says if I learned to walk again, so can you, asshole.

There are people in his life again after that, a reason to get out of bed and realize that he can make Wayne proud in more ways than the one he'd already fucked straight to hell.

Eddie watches a bunch of kids graduate high school and then he packs up and chases down some people who pulled him out of hell once before up in Chicago, crashes on Steve and Robin's couch until he gets himself a job painting houses and they can afford three bedrooms instead of just the two.

He cuts his hair, not short but shorter, and he gets more tattoos and itches for the guitar that sits in a case under his bed, ignores it. Itches for the pen in his hand, ignores that too.

He's still barely past his mid-20s and he still has some fucking around left to get out of his system, some finding out to accomplish doubly so, but he learns as he goes no matter whether it's forwards or backwards.

He falls in love and falls out of it, gets fired from jobs and tracks down new ones, gets into fights with his friends because they're all a little fucked up and codependent and weird but makes up with them for the same reasons.

The thing with Steve happens slowly, going from tolerating each other for the sake of knowing they'll always be on the same team to genuinely liking each other to discovering a care between the two of them that's a bit too strong to be normal about even if it still takes them a half-dozen so-called turning points to really name it and take it and keep it.

Eddie's 33 when they buy a condo together on the outskirts of Chicago two weeks after they fall into bed with each other for the first time, and he's over a decade on from being a kid who rose to the top too fast but it doesn't feel dissimilar, that sensation of a too-good thing that's bound to go wrong.

Only this time he doesn't try to sabotage it, tries the opposite, tries to hold it tightly in ways that would probably be too tight for anyone other than Steve Harrington with all his deeply intense feelings and inability to love at anything other than an eleven.

It's in the move that Steve finds a box of notebooks, snoops because it's who he is, and finds years worth of words that never made it past the tip of a pen but did, eventually, make it that far.

And it's not an easy thing, convincing Eddie that they're words worth sharing, because Eddie doesn't want it to be an easy thing. He can't let kind words shoved into his orbit by a beautiful man be enough to make it feel worth it, can't see a world where sharing his art doesn't end in another great big self-induced mess that he can't let happen when he's finally found something good.

He doesn't want to go on tour and get screamed at on stage and, besides, he's pretty sure the rest of the world doesn't want to scream for him anymore either, but then Steve has to go and remind him--

"You don't have to be the face of it. You can just be the words; you are so fucking good at being the words, Ed."

Which still isn't quite enough to be convincing, but it's a start in a solid six months of the words coming easier now that he has someone to share them with, someone to listen as Eddie plucks away at a guitar that sits out in the open now, free of dust.

It stops feeling like something shameful to hide, his music, and the thing is? It doesn't feel how it did back then either.

It's not an escape or a purge of violent energy or a distraction from everything he didn't know how to think about. Sure, it takes all of that into consideration because it takes the whole of Eddie into consideration, but more than anything it's just fun.

Like he's thirteen and still learning how to play the guitar, like it's just a hobby that never has to go anywhere, like it's just art that maybe deserves to be heard.

Everyone pitches in on ideas when they find out he's trying to come up with a pseudonym, and it's goofy and supportive and kind of the final straw in reaching out to old, burned bridges to see about any new artists looking for equally new tunes.

The first time Eddie and Steve catch familiar lyrics being sung by a new hotshot band on the radio, Eddie cries not because he's jealous or disappointed, but because it feels right.

He doesn't like being up in front of the crowds, had only ever walked across tables and made himself big and scary and loud out of self preservation, would always rather his biggest performances be for the people he knows really care.. Besides, after everything he's survived he's learned, albeit slowly, that he really likes the freedom of the quiet.

This way he still gets to say what he has to say, gets to throw his hat into the ring of an artform that he loves without selling his soul to a machine that tried to eat him alive (trust him. he knows what that feels like.)

Of course, someone is going to put 2 and 2 together eventually, the industry isn't as big as it looks and pseudonyms only pull so much weight when you went out in such a spectacularly messy and memorable fashion, but Eddie's got his condo in Chicago.

He's got the guy he shares it with in his bed.

He's got two cats and a windowsill full of plants he's going to keep alive this time, Steve, just you watch.

He's got his uncle settled in Indy these days, a small place with a small yard.

He's got music, too. Turns out even his own tendency to self-destruct couldn't take that away, huh?

It's what got him out of hell alive, after all.

#dot post #dot fic #eddie munson #steddie #one hit wonder eddie has lived rent free in my head for too long you guys have to join me in this before I lose my mind to it #rockstar!eddie #writer!eddie

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solarmorrigan · 10 months

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The crack of thunder is loud enough to jolt Steve awake, and for a moment his sleep-clouded eyes search the room wildly for the threat, for whatever woke him, before another peal of thunder seems to roll the tension right out of him.

“Shit,” he sighs, relaxing back into the mattress. “Big one.”

“Yep,” Eddie says tightly from where he’s sitting up against the headboard beside him.

Steve squints up at Eddie in the dim light of the bedside lamp (which Eddie has no plans to turn off, despite the fact it’s gone past two AM). He’s clearly not quite awake, but something in Eddie’s tone has pinged in his brain, and he’s trying to work it out.

Another crash of thunder rattles the house and Eddie can’t help it – he jumps.

It’s small—maybe more like a twitch—but Steve catches it. He always does.

Frowning, Steve reaches out and soothes a hand up the top of Eddie’s thigh, stopping at the bend of his hip and rubbing circles with this thumb.

“Hey,” he says softly, half muffled by the pillow. “Okay?”

Eddie shrugs, hunching over the book in his lap that had been an adequate distraction until the storm had rolled right overhead.

“Not a fan of thunderstorms, I guess,” he admits, lowly, because he’s kind of embarrassed, but willingly, because he knows Steve won’t give him shit – not for something that really upsets him.

“No?” Steve asks, still looking up at Eddie through his lashes, still not entirely awake and an invitingly soft distraction from the rain spattering the window like bullets.

“Nah.” Eddie shrugs again.

Steve hums—a short, distracted sound—and leans in to press a kiss to Eddie’s hip. Then he’s sitting up and stretching with a sharp intake of breath before draping himself over Eddie’s side, kissing his shoulder and looking up at him with expectant eyes.

I’m awake now, he’s saying. You can talk to me.

And Eddie knows he can – and Eddie would, except he’s never really had to put into words why he—Eddie Munson, champion of chaos and discord—has never liked thunderstorms. He’s never had to articulate how the trailer walls had never felt thinner when he was a kid than when a storm was furiously beating at them, or how all the noise and destruction had been something totally out of his control.

Wayne is the only one who really knows, and Wayne had just gotten it. He’d started playing music for Eddie when those Midwestern spring storms started rolling in – and maybe Eddie didn’t love thunder and lightning, but that had been how he’d fallen in love with the idea of making music.

There, at last, had been a form of noise and chaos that Eddie could control and wield for himself.

But it’s late, and Eddie is strung out and wrung out and it doesn’t feel like he has the energy for that conversation.

“Never really liked them when I was a kid,” he says instead. “And then after all the shit with the Upside Down, I think it was the final nail in the coffin.”

Steve makes a little wounded noise, maybe at Eddie’s phrasing, maybe just in sympathy, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the side of Eddie’s throat.

“Anyway, it’s stupid, and I can deal with it. You can go back to sleep,” Eddie says, very much aware that he’s clutching one of Steve’s hands as he does so.

“Not stupid,” Steve says. “I’ll go back to sleep if you lay down with me.”

Eddie sighs. “Steve…”

“I’m serious. Hit the light and lay down with me.” Steve kisses Eddie’s neck again, twice, three times, trailing up to the hinge of his jaw, where he murmurs, “Trust me.”

And Steve is a bastard, because Eddie can’t say no to that, so with another (greatly put-upon) sigh, Eddie leans over to put his book on the nightstand and then, after just a moment of hesitation, he turns out the light.

The storm wastes no time in reilluminating the room with flickering lightning, followed by another crash of thunder.

But Steve’s hands are on Eddie, warm and sure, and he’s telling him come here and then pulling him nearer like he can’t wait.

Eddie lets himself be rearranged without complaint and finds himself lying face to face with Steve, legs tangled, arms caught between them, their foreheads brushing. He can feel Steve’s breath against his lips when he begins to speak.

“When I was a kid, I loved thunderstorms,” Steve says, voice soft.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, the word feeling small in the scant space between them.

“Yep,” Steve says. He takes one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it to his chest, pressing it flat there where Eddie can feel the beat of his heart, calm and steady. “My favorites were the ones just like this. Loud and strong, in the middle of the night.”

Frankly, Eddie can’t imagine a worse type of thunderstorm, listening to the deluge falling on the roof of the tiny house he and Steve share, his body practically rattling along with the windows when thunder booms overhead.

Still, he dutifully asks, “Why?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, still collecting his words.

“The world didn’t feel as empty, when there was a storm outside,” he finally says. “If there was noise, it didn’t feel like I was alone.”

It’s a much more thoughtful admission than Eddie was expecting, much more somber, and he’s not quite sure what to say. He presses a little closer to Steve, nudging their foreheads together.

Another rumble of thunder passes over them, still so loud that Eddie can feel it in his bones, and Steve sighs like he’s perfectly content.

“I liked that, too,” he says. “When you could feel the thunder in your chest like a second heartbeat. Like there was someone there with me.”

Eddie finds Steve’s free hand with his own and squeezes.

“I think I just forgot after a while. Or maybe it wasn’t enough. When I got older, I went out and surrounded myself with people instead. The noise at a really big party felt like a storm sometimes.” Steve gives a subdued little laugh. “But when I was a kid… just this was enough.”

“What about now?” Eddie asks, practically whispering, just loud enough to be heard over the percussion of the rain.

Steve tilts his head forward until their lips meet, sweet and certain.

“This will always be enough,” he says when they part.

He doesn’t go far; their foreheads are still pressed together, their noses are still brushing, hands and arms and legs are still tangled like Steve wants to pull Eddie inside of himself so he can feel the storm the way Steve does.

So Eddie closes his eyes and he tries.

He and Steve lay there quietly, listening as the storm finally begins to pass from over their heads. It isn’t great—it’s loud, it’s violent, it’s nerve-wracking—but Eddie never has to check to know that Steve is still awake, still with him, keeping Eddie’s hand pressed to his steady heartbeat.

Eddie doesn’t start to magically enjoy the storm. He’s not sure he ever will. But – for the way Steve loves them, for the way they had given him comfort for so many years, Eddie thinks he might just be able to make his peace with them.

[Prompt: Touching foreheads]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #can you believe I used to say that I didn't like romance?#what a fucking liar #I mean look at this shit. soft as hell. valentine's day heart confetti for your brain #solar wrote

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trashmouth-richie · 4 months

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𝐜𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐫

1.3k | just for fun since it’s blizzarding here rn

The wind blustered against the cracked windshield. Sending waves of sleet and snow against the van, hitting like gravel against the tin body.

He silently curses himself for not getting the windshield fixed before winter came. A huffed breath drags from him, little puffs of frigid air in the cold interior of the van, as he attempts to blow warmth to his chilled to the bone fingers. Aching from the repetitive motions from work.

Eddie’s life didn’t end up how he had planned. The rockstar gig was nothing more than that— a gig. One show maybe two a month at the hideout, a small little escape into the world he once was determined to get to.

But life had other plans for him. Things he never saw coming.

The sharp right turn into Forest Hills was blanketed by thick drifts of snow, covering the usual pot holes. Still he avoided them anyway— the last thing he needed was a blown tire in this weather.

Forecast called for “1-3 inches” but what the stuck up weather man didn’t predict was the wind.

The wind brought with it freezing temperatures, a high of barely four degrees. He called Wayne on his break, telling him he’d stop by after work and shovel his pickup out so he could make his shift tonight, but Wayne only grunted and told Eddie he was perfectly capable of doing it himself, just to get home safe.

The ill maintained roads were horrible, his tires slid and skid anytime he tapped the brakes or eased on the gas pedal, making the usual ten minute drive home turn into twenty, then thirty.

He was crabby, hungry and itching for a cigarette, but the gas stations were closed for the upcoming storm, leaving an itch in his jaw that drove him mad.

Anything and everything that could go wrong in one day had. Equipment broke, most of the shift hadn’t shown up due to the storm causing him to work in place of two other jobs on top of his own. The lunch he brought was left in the van by mistake after hurrying to get punched in when his alarm hadn’t gone off.

And now throwing the van in park he realized he never turned the lights off in his rushed attempt to make it to work on time.

Punching the steering wheel he curses again, the light bill would be outrageous next month.

The van door was stuck, probably frozen from the outside, and he shoved his shoulder into the frame to try to loosen it enough so he could get out. The wind hit him like a freight train, stealing his breath and pelting his face, chapping his cheeks red and ruddy.

Rage filled his lungs as his sweat soaked bandana started to feel like a frozen sheet of ice on his head. Crunching his curls into icicles.

The cold air seeped through his jeans, and he shivered when his boots sunk into the snow. Dropping his keys three separate times into the snow, Eddie yelled into the night.

And if he weren’t so mad he might have noticed a set of footprints leading from your trailer to his.

He might have heard the radio buzzing about the incoming bad weather.

He might have smelled a delicious slurry of cooked meat, beans and tomatoes boiling on the stove.

The front door was frozen too, and when he finally jimmied the handle and flung the door open, he nearly burst into tears.

The place is spotless.

Ashtrays were emptied and sparkling like the countertops, the heap of clothes on top of his washer were folded and put away. A candle is lit on the table. You must have brought your own vacuum over because his hasn’t worked since the 70s.

The small patch of linoleum under his feet was swept, his other pair of work boots and shoes were lined up neatly against the wall. A new rag thread utility rug was also underfoot.

His eyes brimmed hot with tears at the sight of his clean house, and you, standing at the stove with a wooden spoon to your lips.

“Hi! Made a cobbler with that jar of peaches from Joyce Byers,” you chirp, pulling the oven door open and placing the dessert dish onto the potholders, “I know it’s not the season for it but it just sounded so good.”

It wasn’t your mess and you shouldn’t have to clean up after a grown man. But you do, and Eddie is more than grateful for your caring heart, for how sweet you are to him even on days he wants nothing more than to rot on the couch and feel sorry for himself.

His eyes soften, and before you can ask him how his day was, he’s grabbing your cheeks with ice cold hands, bringing his frigid mouth to the warmth of your temple before kissing the tomatoey stain from your lips.

He sighs into you, his body releasing all the pent up anger and pain from the day. Solace of your arms melted away the glacial cold from within him.

The kisses don’t stop, and you have to lean back to turn the stove off in hopes that the chili doesn’t burn before you can eat it.

His cold nose nudges down your neck, kissing the chain he placed there a year ago, one you never took off. He mumbles into your skin and his stomach groans with emptiness.

“Let’s get you fed big boy,” you mouth against his sweaty curls, and he happily obliges.

After he places the last bite of chili from his bowl into your mouth, you drag him to the shower.

Rinsing the shampoo from his curls and warming his still cold skin with your body. The heat from his tongue lapping at your skin, and something else prominently making itself known on the cheek of your ass.

“Didn’t have to do all of that, baby,” he murmurs into your ear, fingers slowing working soap into your skin.

“Wanted to, I love you Eds.”

You’ve said it many times before, never once pressuring him into saying it back if he wasn’t ready. A life full of shitty people, it was hard for him to open up, but you opened something up in him that he hadn’t felt before, and he couldn’t get enough of you.

Tangled limbs climb from the shower, skin barely rinsed and wet tendrils of hair hang down each of your necks. Your lips still taste like chili, and he still smells like work, but neither of you care.

Lips smack together and skin is left hickied and sweaty. Elbows and knees are rubbed raw from the itchy sheets on his bed, his hair is drying into a mess from your fingers lacing through it, your breath making the curls go frizzy when he pulls you into him and rocks your body against his sat cock.

Pulling sugary noises from you again, and again, he finally says it there. Chin between your legs, your orgasm dripping wet from his lips.

You sit up to see him, not sure if you heard.

He says it again, liking the way it sounds, something he had been scared of saying for a long time, but he always knew he did.

A single tear slips down his cheek and it’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever seen, the cobbler would sit untouched until tomorrow, Eddie having found a sweeter dessert to indulge in, love.

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #eddie fan fiction #eddie fanfic

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mokulule · 1 year

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The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 1

So figured I could show what else I am working on aside from Salt in the Bones with @clockwayswrites. I still blame Clock for this though, they are way too fun to brainstorm with, and I have too many WIPs already. Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

Danny was sick and tired of this city, this entire dimension in fact. And this vigilante family, or whatever they were, were more dogged in their pursuit of him than the GIW or his parents had ever been - all this for a few gizmos.

Danny rolled his eyes and ducked a kick from the most violent midget since Youngblood.

Seriously he was just trying to build a portal home, and it wasn’t like he was hurting anyone. He’d mostly stolen from villains anyway! And Wayne industries was like a multibillion dollar company, they shouldn’t miss a few scraps or prototypes. It would hardly put a dent in their budget.

Midget was back on his feet and had now drawn a freaking sword. Yeah, this was it, Danny needed to leave before bigger and battier arrived. He faked left but then spun right around the probably actual literal kid with the real sword, jumped to the railing and kicked off towards the next rooftop. Ignoring gravity’s pull for a just a couple of seconds was the only reason he landed safely on the other roof.

He felt a moment of worry that the kid would try following him and glanced back, but the child was fuming in safety on the other side, having lost that grappling gun thing he used earlier in the chase, it seemed Danny was safe for now. The kids mouth was moving, probably talking to more of the heroes.

He wasn’t gonna be safe for long, but Danny allowed himself a moment to breathe in relief. Suddenly his breath stuck coldly in his throat and he froze. Impossible! The shades of this city barely tickled his throat, he hadn’t met anything that would even halfway classify as a ghost to his senses. Urgency was like a cold hand around his throat, a desperate longing hummed in his core as he slowly spun trying to get a sense of where - he only managed to see a blur of red before a heavy weight knocked into him slamming him to the ground. The cold mist in his throat was pushed out in a pained oof, and his head bounced first on one thing then another, but that didn’t matter because his core was singing; close, not alone, hug!

Danny’s head spun, his whole body felt pained and smushed. A man, no a freaking tank, was laying on top of him. Body armor dug into his ribs, probably something there was bent or broken and he felt certain that ominous red helmet had left a mark where it hit his forehead. Also his hair felt a bit wet beneath him. Yet that didn’t matter because he was so overwhelmed, warm with hands and feet tingling from the humming joy in his chest. Hug! His core sang again.

Somewhere in the fog in his head he recognized this was no hug, but he hurt, his head was spinning, and he was not alone and he was happy and wasn’t that more important than a bit of pain? Oo o oO

Jason was unsure what was going on.

He’d managed to tackle the elusive thief Dick had so “creatively” nicknamed the Ghost for his ability to go invisible and the inability for them to land a decent hit on him. In fact if he hadn’t seen footage from previous run-ins with the man, Jason would have thought they wildly exaggerated his skills.

After all the man had frozen up strangely when Jason pulled himself onto the rooftop as he listened only with half an ear to the demon brat angrily grumbling in the comms, that he would have had him had he not been a coward who ran away all the time. Their thief was slowly turning around as if looking for something, the green glass of his goggles reflected in the moonlight and for a moment gave the illusion they were glowing.

Jason had not wasted a moment, got to his feet, crossed the distance in a mere three large steps before he crashed into the man - so, he’d halfway expected the man to move and therefore hadn’t prepared to soften another person’s landing. His helmet hit the shorter man’s forehead and his head rebounded and hit the roof with a sound that made Jason internally wince. The next moment there was a snapping sound and a gasp as the man’s ribcage was caught between the roof and Jason - he really wore no armor, just that thin hoodie. No matter what B said about the danger of the stolen items, Jason was really starting to doubt they had a budding super villain on hand.

He immediately made a move to get up, but stopped, a strange feeling of something overtaking him. It took a moment for him to discern because of the dichotomy, but it was… happiness? What the fuck, it wasn’t his emotions, that made no sense. The pits had only ever sent him rage and in rare moments gruesome satisfaction. This was joy, he felt almost like he was floating caught in a wave at the beach, weightless, happy, warm in the sun. He shook his head pushing the foreign emotions away like he would the pit and focused on his dazed perp.

There was something wet glistening in his unruly black hair.

“Fuck,” Jason muttered, thankfully too low for the helmet to project, but loud enough that he got a breathless but insistent “report” back from Bruce where he was clearly hurrying toward their destination.

“I knocked the Ghost down, he’s bleeding from a head wound,” he muttered at his comms as he pulled the goggles up to get a look his eyes to check for signs of concussion, but immediately froze. The goggles, he’d thought it was a trick of the light earlier, but no, his eyes were glowing - bright and green and just a shade lighter than the Lazarus pits. A shudder ran cold down his back. Somehow the foreign emotions were coming from him, Jason was sure of it, but it explained absolutely nothing! Unrestrained joy? Was this some kind of shock response?

More footsteps landed on the roof and Jason didn’t need to look to know it was Bruce with the Brat along for the ride. He finally remembered he’d been trying to get off the other man at some point.

Oo o oO

No, no, no, Danny’s core protested when the other ghost moved away, and he clutched onto what he could grab, which he dazedly recognized as a very nicely muscled arm. The other arm, because human shaped ghosts have two arms (good job Danny), supported Danny by holding onto one of his arms and that was good. Getting upright gave him the worst moment of vertigo, and his breath whooshed out of him. His legs were like jello and didn’t support him, but that didn’t matter, because his new friend had a good firm grip, could probably even hold him up entirely without Danny clutching his arm, good friend, mine. He butted his head into his chest because that was what he could reach and just leaned there. His core hummed so happily he felt like he’d almost shake apart.

Friend.

Mine

Good friend

…

Why no response?…

Hello? Danny was confused, why wasn’t he getting a response. Also why did his head and chest hurt so bad?

“Tt, what is the matter with him?”

The question, delivered in a haughty voice was like a bucket of ice water on his senses. He gasped and pushed away from where he’d been nuzzling some guy’s chest! Alarmed, he stumbled, but dodged the hands reaching for him, to support him, to catch him, he wasn’t sure. There was the big bat and the midget and the tank in the red helmet; the guy who felt like a ghost and he just wanted nothing more than to go back to him, and- Danny shuddered taking another step back, his face was hot and flaming red right now. This was, this was- he couldn’t-

Hiding his powers be damned; he sunk through the roof.

So embarrassing! He closed his eyes fighting tears as he sank down down down, all the way into the ground where they for sure couldn’t follow him. All the while his insides screamed, because he didn’t want to be lonely anymore. Fuck, he just wanted to go home.

He was so sick and tired of this city.

So... yeah hope you enjoyed this, now I can reveal why I blame Clock, they said and I quote "Danny, like a cat with catnip suddenly" and now Danny is a cat, what can you do ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Jason's gonna have to lure this feral ghost in slowly with food and hugs.

edited with link to the next part:next Masterpost where you can subscribe: link

#dead on main #dp x dc #Jason is catnip to Danny #Missed connections #cause that's a shorter tag for this story than the title #long title is long but it makes sense #because danny is in a another dimension and missing his friends and family back home #angst #cw depression

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gffa · 11 months

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You would think, after a month of voracious reading of BATFAMILY fic, that I would at least begin to slow down, because I still primarily read I’m Having Dick Grayson Feelings And I’m Making That Everyone Else’s Problem, but I have also discovered that I have Jason feelings, I have Tim feelings, and I have Damian feelings. Which of course I knew before, but what I really learned is that other people have made this my problem now, too. And by that I mean that there’s amazing fic on all of the Bat babies and I am not immune. So, you may still have to scroll a bit, but if there’s an idiot badass with black hair and blue eyes, you’ll hopefully find something here to cry about with me, because what are any of us even in this fandom for, if not for the Feelings Hell About Vigilantes With Emotional Problems? BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ it is with my whole life by dustorange, dick & bruce, 2.2k Nine-year-old Dick’s been kidnapped. Bruce tries not to fall apart. ✦ World’s Finest: Lake Weekend by WingFeathers, dick & bruce & clark (& clark/bruce), 10.3k Bruce and Dick invite Clark to the lakehouse for a long weekend around Rosh Hashanah, but Dick has trouble sleeping outside the Manor, and Bruce isn’t as available as he should be. And all of this brings up a question: what exactly are the three of them, a bat-vigilante and his ward and his superhero boyfriend? Could they be something like a family? (And how will they eat with Alfred not taking care of them?) ✦ Revision by takadainmate, dick & bruce, 3.8k New to Bruce Wayne, new to being Robin, new to being alone, Dick didn’t believe there would ever be anyone there for him again. ✦ count the stars by emavee, dick & bruce, 3.7k He doesn’t know what to do. It’s not like he can stop the storm. If he could wave a magic wand and make the sky clear—or even if he could call up someone from his large contact list full of metas who could control the weather—he would. He would honestly disrupt Gotham’s weather patterns if it meant Dick would stop crying. Or: Dick doesn’t like thunderstorms, so Bruce takes him somewhere where they can’t touch him. ✦ cautionary tale by drakefeathers, dick & bruce & young justice, 11.4k Q: “Why did Queen Bee want Robin taken in alive in Bereft?” A: “Think of Speedy as a cautionary tale.” ✦ batman & robin by chickenmuffinsoup55555, dick & bruce, 4.8k The Batman has a shadow. A shadow clad in reds and greens with a smile like sunshine. Bruce is adjusting. ✦ five times someone told Bruce he was a good dad… by emavee, dick & bruce & clark & selina & cast, 10.3k …and one time it mattered ✦ Phobias by RascalJoy (DarkQuill), dick & bruce & alfred, 18.4k wip It was stupid. It was irrational. Dick knew that. There was no good reason for him to be afraid; he had been doing this for most of his young life. And yet… Five times Dick fell, and the one time Robin didn’t. ✦ I Hate Dick by JeanjacketCarf, dick & bruce & talia, 3.7k “Robin wrapped his legs around the Bats’ neck and rested his head on top of the cowl. Then he stuck his tongue out at Talia. Talia felt her face growing hot with anger. She tried to restrain it. The Bat loved this child for some unholy reason.” ✦ shades of blue by thatsveryambitiousofyou, dick & bruce, 2.4k Dick Grayson has blue eyes. Or the one where Bruce tries harder BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ Withdrawal by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & bruce & cast, 1.8k It’s been six hours since he got dosed. The green ring around his eyes has been faded since dawn. It won’t be long before the withdrawal hits him in full force. ✦ The Post-Mission Ponderings of Brucerman and NightBunny by Ptelea, dick & bruce, 4.8k This is just sheer (metaphorical) fluff to follow up on the (somewhat more literal) fluff of Wayne Family Adventures, season 2, episode 54, S'tel ees a cigam wohs! Heavy on the puns, even heavier on Bruce being struck by amazement at how much he loves his oldest son. ✦ gotta make a stand (but I am just a man) by CaptainOzone, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k Bruce makes it back to the Cave, injured and exhausted, but remarkably alive. He expects Alfred to meet him. He meets someone else. Or: a third credit scene in which Nightwing makes an appearance. ✦ The Hand in My Hand by audreycritter, dick & bruce, 4.4k Dick offers himself in exchange for some hostages and it does not go as planned. ✦ Yesterday by I_Have_To_Get_Off_This_Planet, dick & bruce, 1.5k Dick was pretty sure this was what dying felt like. He was curled up, almost in fetal position, on his bed in the Manor. He was there for the holidays, and he had been looking forward to their entire family being together for once. Even Jason had agreed to come. And now he was gonna die before Christmas even arrived. ✦ I Bet On Losing Dogs by Anonymous, dick & bruce, 2.5k (Or; Bruce’s relationship with his oldest and how it slowly starts to mend, with only a little push from his friends.) ✦ You can pick your battles but you can’t pick your poison by woodenwashbucket, dick & bruce, 1.8k “Hey, am I bleeding a lot somewhere?” Nightwing asked. Batman gave him an unimpressed look, but Nightwing shook his head. “Seriously. I feel off.” Nightwing wobbled. Batman grabbed him by the shoulders before they could find out if he would have fallen, and Nightwing met his eyes with undisguised alarm. “Ok, maybe worse than off,” he said. BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ what’s past is prologue by Icestorm238, dick & bruce & jason & damian, time travel, 18.1k Dick Grayson, bestowed with the memories of an alternate life, decides that things are going to go better this time. Priority number one: preventing Jason’s death. ✦ exactly how this grace thing works by irnan, dick & bruce & barbara & jason & cast, de-aged!dick, 22.7k Dick gets de-aged. You’d think this would be a routine thing. ✦ sick day by daringyounggrayson, dick & roy & titans, 1.2k Dick tries to power through a cold and lead a training session with the Teen Titans. It doesn’t exactly work out. ✦ The Gravity of Tempered Grace by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & selina, 10k He’s sick, he finally catches on, and at that moment, a cough builds up in his chest, and he barely has enough energy to sit up enough to let his lungs work properly. A coughing fit later, and Dick’s breaths are making a horrible wheezing sound that makes him sound like one of Titus’ chew toys. That’s bad. He’s pretty sure that’s bad. ✦ you swallowing matches by torielle, roy/dick & bruce, NSFW, 8.2k A month after being fired as Robin, Dick is forced to attend a Wayne gala, and is grateful for a particular friendly face. ✦ The Shape Of You (Was Jagged And Weak) by WinterSky101, dick & bruce & slade & jason & tim & damian & batfam, 40.6k Six months ago, Nightwing died. They never found the body. Last week, Deathstroke arrived in Gotham. He brought a partner with him. ✦ You say you wanna stay by my side (Darling, your head’s not right) by wlwintersoldier, roy/dick & lian & donna, 2.5k Dick is stupid and reckless on a mission, whats new, and Roy deals with the fallout ✦ Laundry Mishaps by JeanjacketCarf, dick/babs & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke, 3.5k Dick’s siblings often show up unannounced and take his stuff without asking. It’s how they show their love. Or Dick’s washing machine is commandeered for Steph’s laundry, his clothes disappear, he goes to girl’s night, has brunch, gets a little shot, and picks his baby brother up from school in about a week and a half while the secret group chat has a grand old time. BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I’M GONNA THROW HIM AT DICK BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY (AND MAYBE SOME OF HIS OTHER SIBLINGS TOO): ✦ Two Dead Birds by InsaneTrollLogic, jason & dick & tim, time travel, 29k There’s some lunatic in a red helmet running through Jason’s territory. He wants to think it’s a copycat. He’s wrong. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Won’t You Stay A While? by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & cast, 2.8k Ric did not expect to find a child sitting on the hood of his cab. Damian did expect to get his brother back. ✦ birdgrief by windupclock, dick & bruce & damian, 1.5k How could you? Dick doesn’t say. Get out of my sight, Dick doesn’t say. What the hell is wrong with you? Dick doesn’t say. Tim storms out. Dick is left to deal with Damian. ✦ we’re like long lost brothers who found each other (and love each other like family) by drakefeathers, dick & damian, 9.3k ongoing collection of scenes set when Dick is Batman and Damian is his Robin, ranging from cute to sad (hopefully not too sad). not chronological. ✦ I’ll Carry You by BrickSheep, dick & damian & bruce & tim, 2.1k Dick Grayson will take every opportunity he can just to carry Damian in his arms. ✦ in my own imperfect way by notquiteaghost, dick & damian & bruce, 1.8k Dick jokes, a lot, about being the only reason Bruce still remembers how to talk to people. About breaking him in for everyone else. He was Robin first, and he was Robin longest, and he’s why Bruce took in the others, he’s why Bruce isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere. And the jokes are funny! He’s never trying to be passive aggressive, or guilt trip, or whatever else. He and Bruce have spent enough time, now, pointedly not actually looking at each other, pulling words out in painful fits and starts. Dick knows where they stand. They’re good. But. ✦ (Un)Fortunate Son by Syl, dick & damian & bruce & cast, 26.1k wip Bruce reaches a decision about Damian. Dick disagrees and decides to do something about it. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies, jason & bruce & dick, 31.4k Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance. ✦ what’s past is prologue by Icestorm238, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & steph & cast, time travel, 84.9k Dick Grayson, bestowed with the memories of an alternate life, decides that things are going to go better this time. Things take a few unintended turns, and the consequences of his actions ripple through his family. ✦ And the Scene Slips Away (To the Evenness I Fake) by Kirazalea, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & duke & alfred & cast, rape aftermath/read the tags, 37k One mistake is all it took to force Jason back into the wonderful world of the Wayne family. Now publicly and legally alive once more, he’s forced to spend the next two weeks of his life stuck in the Manor with the whole family. This leads to several strengthened relationships and the realization that maybe he’s missed a few things over the years. Things that he’s now determined to get to the bottom of. ✦ now the clock is melting (so’s my mouth and so’s my mind) by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, tim & bruce & dick & cast, 4.1k The League’s base is not built to welcome strangers. Bruce is not a stranger. ✦ what catches and who holds by victoria_p (musesfool), dick & cass, 3k Dick never wanted to be Batman. Cass always did. ✦ Bet on it by Lysical, jason & damian & jon, 2.4k Even Damian could admit that his older siblings occasionally had their uses. “I need your assistance,” Damian said, voice low and tense. “No,” Jason replied, and hung up. ✦ a soft place to land by unchosenone, dick & tim, 3k Tim rubs the back of his head, trying to affect a joking tone. “I knew I should’ve just gone for the new escrima sticks.” Dick is ready to be a good big brother to his grieving little bro. Tim flips the script. ✦ Consanguineous Ministrations by Briarwitched, bruce & kon-el & clark & dick, 23.9k “Who gave you a baby?” Dick demanded, the instant Bruce opened the front door, eyes drawn immediately to the sobbing infant on Bruce’s hip that he gently bounced to no avail. At the same time, Bruce muttered, “I told you, it’s fine, you didn’t have to come.” Alternatively titled, “Let’s give Batfleck alien baby problems”. ✦ The League of Extraordinary Bowling Bats by chibi_nightowl, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & alfred & cassandra & stephanie, 5k “What did Dickiebird do? Steal all your other shirts?” The shirt is bright green with wide yellow stripes pretending to be a pin stripe running vertically across it. On the back, in bright red letters, “Timmy” is spelled out. “You’re next,” he spits out, shooting Jason the worst glare he could muster. “He’s got one for you too.” ✦ a cheese raspberry flavored void (except not really) by dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi), Marzue, SilverSkiesAtMidnight, Squintyfist (ErzasCake), dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & alfred & cast, 3k “Jason.” Dick walks up to the desk, suspiciously peering around. Jason jerks and attempts to get in his way, but Dick is quick and fully willing to vault over his brother. Only, Jason immediately latches onto him, and the momentum sends them stumbling back, knocking into the desk. It’s a good thing Jason stopped him, for right behind the desk, where Dick would’ve landed, is a swirling void. ✦ The Talk by InsaneTrollLogic, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, 2k Bruce never gave Dick the Talk. Dick was grateful for that right up until the time Damian sat through his first health class and started asking questions. ✦ Brothers in War by IaMcHrIsSi, jason & dick & cast, 3.2k Jason, Cass and Damian ran from the League. In Bludhaven, they run into Dick. Literally. Dick just wanted to get breakfast. ✦ Baby I’m Bi Bi Bi by Sohotthateveryonedied, dick & steph, 1.5k Dick catches her staring. “Oh, yeah. Forgot I had that. I bought it for when Wally, Donna and I were planning to go to Gotham Pride last year but a Joker thing came up and I didn’t get to go. You can just toss it. I have a ton of other bi merch and I only bought that one because Donna pressured me into it, anyway.” Steph looks down at the t-shirt and bites her lip. “Actually…I think I’ll keep it, if you don’t mind.” ✦ two attempted robberies too many by tsuchann, dick & bruce & jason, 2.2k Dick could have knocked out the man before he had the chance to blink let alone pull the trigger, but he wasn’t dumb, and he worried his reaction would have caused the other robbers to shoot, because in the bank, at the middle of it all, with a gun pressed to his head, was Dick’s little brother. ✦ That the Ripest Might Fall by Ellegrine, TheFightingBull, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce, reverse robins, 2.4k Jason stared at the fallen chandelier. The priceless, fallen chandelier. They were dead. They were so, so dead! ✦ the butler’s neighbor by deargalileo, tim & alfred & bruce, 16.6k it starts with a baseball, thrown onto the wayne’s property. it’s alfred’s job to deal with such happenings, of course. but over tea and galas, it turns into so much more. after all, why should bruce be the only one allowed to adopt any child that he finds? ✦ the straw drawer by deargalileo, dick & bruce & jason & tim & alfred, 7.4k sometimes, love is stored in the straws. a story about family, traditions, and gifts, through the medium of crazy straws. (a companion piece to the butler’s neighbor, so i would suggest reading that first) ✦ you gotta push all the doubt to the side of your mouth by danishsweethearts, dick & stephanie & cast, 1.7k Steph practices mindfulness. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK/BABS FOREVER AND YOU CAN SHUT IT IF YOU DISAGREE, THEY’RE ADORABLE TOGETHER: ✦ Crime and… by Ladymercury_10, dick/babs, 1.7k “Are you punishing me with glitter? That’s not a very good punishment, Babs.” ✦ the dickbabs baby au. by thychesters, dick/babs & batfam, 49.1k wip Telling Dick she’s pregnant is much more stressful than she was hoping it would be. Them telling the rest of their families and friends? Yeah, easier said than done. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ buy back the secrets by sundiscus, tim/kon & bruce & clark & jason & cast, 48.1k wip He takes a long, slow breath. Ignores the glares from the other students. “Superboy,” he murmurs. “It’s me. If you’re listening, I could use some help.” Or: 5 times Superboy saves Tim Drake, and one time Tim Drake saves Superboy. ✦ Grevious Misuse of TTK (or, Alternate Uses for TTK) by Cfae8, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.4k Tim wakes up to someone touching him. But Kon’s hands haven’t moved. ✦ The Lost Art of Minding Your Goddamn Business by JpegDotJpeg, tim/kon & jason, 2k Tim just sputtered, looking thoroughly scandalized for someone standing in the middle of the irrefutable evidence of his own fornication. If the furniture looked this bad, Jason couldn’t imagine that little Timmy had escaped Superboy’s super cock completely unscathed. “It’s not that bad,” Tim said, gesturing to the carnage, but he didn’t even sound convinced of his own words. “It looks like the fucking honeymoon scene from Twilight in here.” ✦ Practice Makes Perfect by rotasha, tim/kon & jason, NSFW, 18.3k Kon is trying to seduce someone – he won’t tell Tim who – and he enlists Tim’s help to try to hone his flirtation skills. This surely won’t end in disaster for Tim, who’s had a thing for Kon practically since they met. BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Wait, What? by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & titans, 2.4k Dick Grayson finds something interesting while applying for college. On a side note: He should really evaluate how many felonies he commits on a regular basis ✦ Dawn Breaks Through the Window by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, depression/read the tags, 14.7k Without realizing it, Dick has fallen into a listless apathy, but when an incident cuts a little too close, Bruce and his brothers are there to remind him just how loved he is. ✦ Wisdom Always Chooses These Black Eyes and These Bruises by audreycritter, dick & bruce, 3.2k After a severe, life-changing injury, Dick and Bruce have an epic fight and then fall back together. Sometimes, family hurts you the most, but that doesn’t stop how much you need them. ✦ your continental divides by isawet, reisling, dick & bruce & damian & barbara & cassandra & stephanie & donna & roy & wally & artemis & cast, rape aftermath/read the tags, 26.7k When running doesn’t work and working doesn’t work, home is the place you go where they have to take you in. Dick’s home has never been Gotham; it’s always been the people.

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #timkon #fic recs #batman fic recs #long post #really long post

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starry-bi-sky · 10 months

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Part six of "Clone Danny"

When the Waynes leave, Danny can finally relax. Even if he's once again hit with a lingering regret that worms itself into his core like a little parasite. The final night that they're there, Bruce Wayne is not downstairs waiting for him, much to Danny's faint, lingering disappointment. He kinda liked talking to him, even if he kept it brief. Probably for the best.

Damian was still there when he returned with a sprained ankle and more ectoplasm burns. Danny tries not to make his limp obvious when he enters, and his clothing smells faintly of sulfur and burnt fabric.

Damian tells him he stinks, and Danny tells him he ran into a ghost. "The Phantom took care of it." He says, gripping his mask in his pocket tightly and avoiding putting weight on his injured foot. His thermos is pressed next to it. His fingers are freezing.

"Ah yes, your vigilante." Damian replies, "The one with the bat." And Danny can see the outline of his eyes narrowing at him.

"Can we really call him a vigilante when the people he's fighting are ghosts?" Danny asks, avoiding the 'bat' comment and leaning against the back of the kitchen chair.

"Did you actually lose your bat, Fenton?" Damian's fingers tap against his arm, refusing to move on. "Despite your ridiculous behavior and attempts to avoid my father and I, I find it hard to believe that the son of two ghost hunters would be as foolish as to forget his only weapon of defense against ghosts."

Ah, so he noticed that. Danny was half tempted to mutter that the bat wasn't his only weapon of defense. He still had his beloved jawbreakers. He's quiet, wondering how to respond to implication that he might be Phantom -- he can't believe Damian picked that up in only a few short days when nobody has caught on in little over a year -- before shrugging.

"I may have given it to the Phantom instead." He says, propping his arm up to put his chin in his hand, trying to look innocent while his heart skipped an anxious beat.

It's probably not the answer Damian wants, but when his word is the only proof he has, Danny doesn't think he should be too worried about it. Even if it meant that a second person outside his friend and enemy circle knew his identity.

He excuses himself shortly after, leaning heavily against the railing to try and hop up the stairs.

(Much to his surprise, Damian follows and lets Danny put his weight on him. He complains that its because Danny will wake his father if he allows him to bumble up the stairs on one foot.)

(Danny ruffles his hair again when they reach the top, and limps towards his bedroom.)

===

Its three months and a handful of new injuries before Danny thinks about the Waynes again. A new ghost appeared in town who called itself Riftgate and he was capable of creating teleport portals to anywhere in the world.

He was a fucking pain in the ass to fight, costing Danny three hours of his night where he could have been sleeping and nearly his hand. Danny gets dragged through the other side before finally shoving Rift inside the thermos.

But he also ends up nearly 900 miles away in fucking Gotham of all places on the top of an empty roof. Great, juuuust great. Danny is tired, he is grumpy, and he is in a city so laden with ectoplasm that he can all but taste it on his tongue. Or maybe that was just the air quality.

He can't even see the stars here, and his mood worsens.

Well, he's too fucking tired to bother handling this right now. There's no way Sam or Tucker are able to help him considering their distance, and right now Danny just wants to sleep. Maybe after that he can figure out a way home.

So he does, sort of. He walks over to the door and doesn't bother trying to open it, even if there was a 50/50 chance of it being unlocked. (This was Gotham after all.) Instead he sweeps the ground with his foot and curls up at door and he's out like a light.

....Only to be woken up by hissed muttering close to his ear and a gloved hand pressing into the pulse of his neck. "No I don't know if they're dead but I don't think so." Says the unfamiliar voice, and Danny opens a bleary eye.

"He's breathing, but his pulse is too slow to be normal. I think he needs help." The voice, a boy, -- no, Red Robin, great -- continues, and Danny looks beside him to see who he was talking to. No one. "He's probably part of some kind of gang, his mask kind of reminds me of Hood's."

Danny just barely remembers that he's still dressed up as Phantom before he tiredly signs, "I'm not part of a fucking gang." and pushes the boy's hand off.

=====

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

will make a masterpost soon

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour @luckybyrdrobyn @deeplyconfusedbear @epilepticnerd @beautifulmomenttodrawblank

#dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is a clone #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp crossover #shorter than normal but this update was hard to write surprisingly #ngl displeased with how ficcy this is turning out mostly because it makes it harder to write #so i'll try and bounce between 'fic like' and 'bullet-pointy'#or attempt to at least #here's to succeeding #comments fuel me

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steddieas-shegoes · 3 months

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how are you even alive?

for @steddielovemonth prompt ‘love is watching them do stupid things’

rated t | 1,351 words | cw: minor injury, suggestive language | tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, the hurt is Steve being stubborn, the comfort is Eddie loving him even though he should accept help

♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️❤️♥️

Twice a year, Steve deep cleaned the house.

Eddie had never witnessed anything like it before.

It’s not that he and Wayne were slobs, but they just did what was necessary, never spending an entire week going over a checklist a mile long to cover every inch of their house.

Steve did.

He said that when he was young, his parents hired people to do it and he was always fascinated with the way the house smelled so fresh for weeks after. He loved watching something go from dusty to shiny, loved seeing the way the windows glistened without any fingerprints from him.

And as he got older, his parents stopped hiring people and just expected it to get done, so he did. And he loved it.

Eddie couldn’t understand it, but he did love the way Steve’s eyes lit up when they got to his cleaning weeks in March and September. He’d plan it all out on a notepad by room, made a list of cleaning supplies he needed, and put stars next to things Eddie would have to help him with.

There were few stars, thankfully.

Eddie didn’t really mind helping. It was his home, too, and any time spent with Steve was time well spent. But the bleach sometimes bothered his sinuses and he’d end up coughing and sneezing for two days after.

He checked the lists now and noticed his name was only on three things:

Flip mattresses

Gutter cleaning (hold ladder and refill pressure washer)

Bookshelves (remove all books, dust, put books back)

He fist pumped once at the realization that he got off easy this time, much easier than he’d been expecting.

Actually, he almost always was enlisted to help with holding the ladder when Steve dusted the-

A bang interrupted his thoughts and he ran without even thinking what it could be.

He walked into the kitchen to see Steve on their ladder, some kind of homemade cleaning solution in a spray bottle in one hand and a washcloth in the other.

“What was that noise?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Steve reach as far as he could without falling off the ladder. He’d probably land on his feet from that height and be fine, but it wouldn’t exactly feel great.

“Dropped the other bottle I had hanging on my belt. It’s fine, just furniture polish. I can get it when I’m done dusting,” Steve was busy, barely even glanced back at Eddie as he answered.

“Why didn’t you tell me you needed a supervisor?” Eddie found the furniture polish and set it on the counter, watching as Steve furiously rubbed at the top of the cabinets.

“I don’t. But gutter cleaning is tomorrow and I’ll need one then.”

“Steve…”

“Don’t Steve me. I’m fine! I’m already halfway done.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and stepped away, not wanting to argue with Steve when he was at his happiest.

“Can you put the radio on please, baby? I forgot to before I climbed up here.”

Eddie went over to the radio on the kitchen table and turned it on, surprised to find it tuned to the rock station instead of the hits station.

“Well color me shocked! Were you listening to,” he gasped and held his chest. “Rock?”

“Yes, I was. But if you’re gonna make a big deal about it then change it to the hits,” Steves eye roll was almost audible.

“No, no. Let’s listen to Def Leppard, sweetheart. It’s been my dream for one whole minute to check out your ass while listening to Pour Some Sugar On Me.”

Steve snorted, but continued his work.

Eddie continued watching.

And then Steve wobbled a little. He caught himself, but Eddie stood up straighter.

He wobbles more and Eddie started to move towards the ladder to hold it steady.

But it was too late.

Steve was already falling.

He landed on his ass with a yelp and a groan, the washcloth and bottle flying across the floor.

“Shit, Stevie, you okay?” Eddie crouched down next to him, hands cupping his cheeks as he looked him over.

“Yeah. Just twisted my ankle a little when I tried to catch myself,” Steve gestured down at his ankle. “Might need to ice it before I clean more.”

“Maybe you should rest so it doesn’t swell.” Eddie rolled the sweatpants he was wearing up and saw the way it was already swelling. “Okay, you have no choice but to rest since it’s swelling.”

“Fuck me.”

“I can do that after we ice it,” Eddie said as he gently moved his ankle left and right to see if it was broken.

Steve snorted. “Of course this would happen the first day of my spring cleaning.”

“Maybe if you’d let me supervise earlier…”

“I never lose my balance on the ladder! I thought I’d be fine.”

“Steve, you remember how last year when you were cleaning the pool you insisted the water wouldn’t overfill because of the filters?” Eddie smirked. “And then 6 hours later we were trying to rescue your pool chairs from floating away?”

“That isn’t the same!”

“And then when we first moved in and you insisted you could paint the ceiling yourself and you insisted on handpainting instead of a roller because it wouldn't be even to you and then you dripped paint everywhere and we had to get new carpet? Remember how you ended up breaking your finger because you insisted on rolling the carpet yourself?"

"Okay, that was just bad luck."

"And when you put out the Christmas decorations last year while I was helping Wayne with his truck and I came home to you stuck on the roof?"

"Listen, I am almost 100% sure one of the neighbor kids knocked the ladder over. There was no other way!"

Eddie kissed Steve's forehead. "I'm not sure how you're even alive. You're asking for an accident to happen."

"Weren't you supposed to be getting me ice?" Steve pouted.

Eddie leaned in and nipped at his bottom lip. "You want help getting to the couch first?"

"Nope. It's cleaning week. 20 minutes with an ice pack and then I'm back to dusting."

Eddie shook his head. "You're ridiculous. We'll ice it for 20 and then you're gonna rest for at least an hour so we know if we need to wrap it and keep weight off of it."

"I'm fine, Eds."

"Humor me, sweetheart."

It's a damn good thing Steve did because an hour and a half later, they were on their way to the emergency room for x-rays.

As the doctor told them both that Steve seemed to have fractured a small bone in his ankle, Eddie did his best not to look too smug.

"It won't require a cast or boot, but I do recommend ice every couple of hours and staying off of it as much as possible for the next week or so. If anything starts to hurt worse, come back for a boot."

"Thanks, doc." Eddie waited until the doctor left the room to turn to Steve. "How about next time you want to dust above the fridge and the top of the cabinets, you let me be there to catch you?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine."

Eddie kissed his lips softly, barely brushed them just in case someone decided to walk in again. "You want me to stop on the way home to get some more pain meds?"

"Please."

"You hurtin'?"

"A little."

"You want me to take your mind off it?" Eddie wiggled his brows suggestively. "I can keep your ankle elevated, even."

"We'll see when we get home. But you know what?"

"What?"

"Someone has to do the cleaning, baby. Since I can't, looks like you've got a checklist to get to."

"Or we could just put off the cleaning until your ankle heals."

Steve shook his head. "No, I think you can handle it. I'll supervise."

"You're lucky you're so pretty," Eddie groaned.

"Don't forget I'm also very good at sucking your-"

"Yeah, yeah. Okay. Let's go before you get us discriminated against."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #love is watching them do stupid things #established relationship #cw: minor injury

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Porcelain Steve - Part 5

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

"Get a grip," Eddie mutters to himself as he places the phone back onto its cradle for the fourth time that day without having made a phone call. He paces back and forth in front of the phone, one, two, three full lines across the room and back before he picks up the phone, dials the Henderson's number, lets it ring one and a half times, then slams the phone down again before someone can answer.

He thinks he's losing it a little. All this time he thought he was the level-headed one but now that it's been two full days of not seeing Porcelain Steve, he thinks he's going to climb the walls and start ripping up the carpets. Logically he knows that nothing has happened. If something had, he would have heard from Dustin already, either by phone or over the walkie (which may or may not be on him at all times, volume as loud as it goes). They wouldn't leave him in the dark.

Right?

Right. Right.

He picks up the phone again, dialing the Buckley house instead.

Robin's dad answers, which is great. Robin's mom likes to play 20 Questions before handing the phone off. He keeps meaning to ask Robin if her mom does that for everyone that calls, or if he's just the lucky one. Robin's dad is a straightforward guy. He wants to know who is calling, and who they want to talk to.

"Robin is out, but I can give her a message, Eddie," Mr. Buckley says.

"Yes, please. Sir. Just let her know I called."

"Will do. Goodbye."

He listens to the dial tone for a few seconds before setting the phone down for the sixth time in less than 15 minutes. He has got to do something to keep busy or the carpets are toast.

Usually when he's this restless he bothers his friends, but Jeff is out of town on a family vacation, no one answered the phone at Gareth's house (first person he called this morning), and Brian has a summer job taking up his time, so now he's left to figure out distractions on his own.

His room is filled with distractions, but nothing that can claim his attention for too long. He puts a cassette in the player but doesn't turn it up to the volume that usually calms him because he doesn't want to miss hearing the phone ring. He'd been trying to distract himself with campaign planning and keeps getting off track with the fantasy that this would be the campaign he could convince Steve to at least hang out and observe, if not play in one or two sessions as an over-powered NPC.

Even Return of the King can't hold his attention for more than two pages, even if he flips through to read just his favorite parts because his mind immediately plays word association games which leads to thinking of Steve.

It hits Eddie then that he misses Steve. He misses climbing into Steve's car and bitching about whatever station Steve's set the radio on playing the Top 40. He misses late night smoke sessions where Steve seems to soften under his high and the night sky as they lay atop the trailer close enough to touch and talk about nothing. He misses being able to steal glances at Steve when he throws his head back to laugh hysterically at something he or Robin had said.

He misses Steve so intensely and fiercely that it sits like a rock in his stomach. He would give anything to hear Steve's voice again.

Oh. Oh no. He needs distraction from his thoughts now.

He successfully managed to hem and haw about his room for almost an hour before he marches back out to the living room and the phone set on the end table next to Wayne's recliner. Picks it up then sets it down again, turning on heel to the kitchen. Maybe breakfast (a glance to the clock on the wall tells him the time is 12:50, so maybe it's actually lunch) will be a sufficient time sink.

He pulls out all the fixings of a PB&J and is in the process of searching for a clean(ish) butter knife when three rapid knocks startle him, freezing him in place for a moment.

The knocking happens again, five quick raps this time, but Eddie was already making his way to the door by the third this time. There is a thought in the back of his mind that rises, unbidden, oh God, something's happened and it makes him wrench the door open with more force than necessary.

Robin stands on his porch, but not for long. She's got a backpack on and a grocery bag hanging off of one arm and when Eddie just blinks at her in a moment of confusion, she huffs and bullies her way inside. He full body turns, closing the door as he does so, to watch her deposit the bag, then backpack, onto the couch.

"Uh, hi?" Eddie manages as he watches her begin to unload the things she brought. A box of microwave popcorn, an obscene amount of candy bars, an assortment of nail polishes, and more but his attention is dragged up to the side of Robin's face when she starts talking, pulling out VHS tapes, clearly rented from Family Video.

"So, I brought a few options for us. Halloween because it was your most rented film back when Steve and I still worked there, so I thought it was a safe bet. Also go The Black Cauldron because you strike me as a Black Cauldron kind of guy, The Hidden Fortress because it's one of my favorites and you might enjoy it, too, and Top Gun, because, well, it might serve as a good distraction for a bit," Robin holds up each tape as she lists them off, setting them on the coffee table next to the assorted stuff she brought with. "Also got, like, a manicure set and some scrunchies and bobby pins. Not really sure how occupied you need to be right now."

"Uh.... what?"

Robin rolls her eyes like Eddie's slow on the uptake, "Distraction. I'm here to provide it. Though, maybe I should have called and asked what you do when you want to kill time. I just... defaulted to what Steve and I do. Movies and makeovers, but, like, if that doesn't work that's fine. It's just, you've joined us before on movie makeover nights, so I assumed..."

Eddie swallows pushing down the knot threatening to form in his throat. It's not a shock (anymore) that he's truly friends with Robin, but sometimes it's not at the forefront of his mind. When he thinks of friends, Jeff, Gareth, and Brian come to mind first. They've years of history together, after all. What he's got with Robin, and everyone else, is deeper than just friendship, the shared secret of Spring Break '86 that's made them all ride or die. So, now, with Robin showing up, instinctively wanting to help because they're friends even without Steve as a buffer, it just kinda rocks Eddie emotionally.

"No, it's great. I just- how did you know?"

Robin cocks her head at him, "You didn't leave a message."

He's not sure what facial expression he makes but everything about Robin softens just a bit. It's so reminiscent of how she is with Steve in the soft, quiet moments when she thinks no one else is paying attention to her and Steve. (Eddie's always paying attention.)

"Oh, dingbat," She says it softly and with a shake of her head before grabbing the popcorn box and ripping it open. She fishes out a packet and tosses it to him. "Get that going. I'm putting in Top Gun."

Wordlessly, Eddie obeys. He wants to ask more questions. What's the look for? Since when does she call him dingbat? What is happening? He throws the bag into the microwave, then remembers the PB&J he was attempting to make earlier. He makes two sandwiches, pausing only to dump the popcorn into a bowl once the microwave beeps. He puts the sandwiches on a plate to make carrying everything easier and joins Robin on the couch.

She accepts the offered sandwich with glee and they watch the first half hour of Top Gun in silence before Eddie gets his words gathered.

"How did you know?" He asks again.

"My dad," she says like a confession, not even needing Eddie to elaborate what he means, "it's, like, the highlight of his day when I miss a call from you. He's so overdramatic about delivering it, all bowing at me and repeating whatever lame thing you said like the esteemed Mister Munson has called to inquire if the lovely Lady Robin would like to partake on an outing the afternoon overmorrow or whatever shit you decide to sprout. Who says 'overmorrow' anyway? So, when I got back from helping mom grocery shop, he just... he pulled the grocery bags from my hands and told me 'I think Eddie needs you'."

He's only met the Buckley's face to face a few times. They don't hang out at Robin's house much so he's a bit shocked that Mr. Buckley even picked up Eddie's dramatics enough to notice something was off.

"My parents are a bit overprotective and overbearing sometimes but they care and listen," Robin says, "so when you called and seemed to different to what my dad is used to hearing- well, I asked to borrow his car, and made a quick pitstop. I was just kind of banking on the fact you need a distraction the same way I do."

He understands what Robin isn't actually saying. "From thinking about Steve."

She nods, "yeah. I know Dustin would never let anything happen to him, but it still leaves me jittery when I don't see him. Especially since the last time I went two days without seeing Steve he- well, he turned into a porcelain doll."

"I thought I was doing okay with all this, you know?" Eddie finds himself saying. "But I'm not. And it's so fucking stupid. It's not like I'm the only one who cares about Steve, or is worried, but- And it's not that I don't trust Dustin to keep him safe. I just- it's..."

"It's different. How you feel about Steve, how Dustin feels about Steve, and how I do. It's all different."

Eddie freezes. He's never- they don't talk about it. He's only said it out loud to three people. Wayne, Jeff, and his father. The last one landed him in the hospital and Wayne's custody so it's not a secret he lets out lightly.

"Dustin's his brother," Robin continues, either unaware of how Eddie's basically quit breathing or choosing to ignore it, "but he's also a dumb teenage boy. He'd never let anything happen to Steve, but that's not a guarantee that nothing will happen. I worry, too. I want to just take Steve and wrap him in bubble wrap, put him in a box, wrap that in bubble wrap, then put that in a bigger box and set him in the middle of an empty room where nothing could accidentally fall over onto the box."

He huffs out a laugh at the mental image that conjures up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Robin says before sucking her lips between her teeth, then pushing them out with a pop! sound, seeming to think over something. He watches as she mentally braces herself, the physical tales of her shifting to face him more, shoulders tensing, leg bouncing slightly. "So anyway, it's different, how we feel about Steve. Dustin loves him. I love him. And you... You're in love with him."

Even though they're inside his own home, Eddie still jerks back and looks around, for anyone who might hear what Robin is accusing him of. "Listen, Buckley, you can't believe every rumor you hear ab-"

"Eddie," she says, holding one hand out, palm up, "stop. Give me your hand and make terrible, awkward eye contact with me for, like, five seconds, please. It's important."

Eddie, very slowly, slips his hand onto hers, and she covers it with her free hand and, as promised, they make awkward eye contact.

"I'm a lesbian," she blurts out and immediately looks away from Eddie's face, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

And Eddie? Well, he laughs. It starts as just a snort but then it grows. And Jesus, it's such an awful response to Robin coming out to him, but he can't stop. He knows that Robin has gifted him with this trust, with knowledge that could get her murdered, and he should not be laughing.

Robin, for her part, takes it well. There's a few seconds of startled silence from her before she barks out her own laugh. Eddie laughs so hard and for so long he thinks he's going to puke, and Robin almost falls off the couch.

"Jesus Christ," is what he can manage to say once he's caught his breath.

"Jesus Christ," she echoes in a quieter voice.

Top Gun plays on in the background.

Eddie still can't say it out loud, so instead he says, "am I that obvious?"

"No. But I can recognize the signs of trying to hide a massive crush on someone of the same gender. You know, with all the experience I have at it."

"You are far better at hiding that then me I guess. I had no clue about you."

She shrugs, "yeah, well, it's not like we hang around a lot of girls for me to crush on. It's you, me, and Steve. Occasionally a kid or five. No offense, but I'd rather die than look at any of you lustfully."

Eddie fakes gagging at the thought.

Robin swats his arm playfully. "Anyway, what I'm saying is, I get that it makes you feel a little crazy not being around Steve. Especially when he's, like, literally unable to protect himself currently. I feel like that, too. He's my soulmate and no one knows me as well as he does. It's... lonely without him."

"So... Steve knows...?"

"Oh yeah. Me telling him it what I think kicked off our real friendship."

"I thought all the shit that happened at Star Court did that."

"That's when I told him. After barfing into a toilet."

"Gross."

"It really was. Steve took it so well. Then he mocked me for my crush."

"Which was...?"

"Absolutely not telling you. Anyway. That's enough mushy talky time. Paint my nails," she says, leaning over to grab a yellow nail polish off the coffee table.

Eddie holds out his hand to take it. He's not even going to pretend he doesn't want to.

Silence falls over them, a comfortable one. Eddie doesn't feel like climbing the walls much anymore, so Robin's distraction is working. Maybe it's just the not being alone in the trailer anymore. Maybe it's the knowing he's not alone anymore.

Maybe it's also knowing that Steve knows about Robin and still loves her.

(Funny that Steve just happened to find and befriend the probably only two queer people in all of Hawkins.)

They put in The Hidden Fortress next and Robin talks through almost the whole thing, telling him facts and that this next part is actually her favorite part.

By the time Robin leaves, well after nightfall, Eddie is feeling more settled.

#my fic #steddie #porcelain steve #robin and eddie friendship #robin and eddie bonding time!!#i am procrastinating writing the final part because i cant choose between the 3 different ways i want to end this #i mean ill pick one eventually and maybe just make a post about all the scenes that didnt make it into the fic #anyway theres 2-3 parts left

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orionremastered · 3 months

Note

could you do where they react to scars? like maybe from sh? how they would act around a s/o with them and stuff. it’s totally okay if not! and oml i love all of your hc sm they are so fun to read and like insanely accurate!

Masterlist

I Can Love You For You

CW: (past) Self-harm

Dick Grayson

It happens when he's talking about something in that animated way that makes you smile

It just so happens that he's holding a cup of coffee and it spills... all over your hoodie

You both scramble to take it off which is when he sees the scars

He holds your wrists and keeps asking you what they are. what happened. why you felt that way

He's so concerned for you it makes you feel loved in a way you haven't felt loved in a long time

Makes you your favourite snack and drink before telling you to explain everything that happened

Jason Todd

He wakes you up during him having a nightmare and you wait for him to wake upon his own accord

It's the first time you've slept over at his place and he didn't tell you about having nightmares

When he finally wakes up you comfort him and he seems to trust you

Trust you enough to open about what happened to him without you knowing him for more than a month or two. he tells you everything and almost seems ashamed of it

So you open up too. To tell him it's okay and that what happened to him wasn't his fault

Eventually you both fall silent and just hold each other. Understanding that you're both just half a person and together you might fit as one.

Tim Drake

He figures out pretty early into your relationship, like two or three weeks, that you used to self-harm

He's seen it many times and he knows the behaviours that follow, but he just doesn't know how to bring it up to you in a way that isn't forcing you into anything uncomfortable

A month or two into the relationship, this idiot is still trying to figure out how to bring it up when you tell him

He wasn't expecting it but is relieved that you feel comfortable enough to talk to him about it

He remains supportive and comforting the whole time, holding your hand and rubbing your thigh (only if you want him to, of course)

Damian Wayne

Definitely notices something's constantly off about you

At one point he's almost convinced himself you're a criminal trying to spy in him and his family, though that thought only lasts like an hour

At one point he asks you to take a shower with him and you just say 'No.'

That's when it hit him

He gave it away that he knew by constantly holding your wrists and suddenly all your razors were gone and the kitchen knives vanished too, only able to use his knives when he was the one cooking

You eventually opened up to him one night and told him everything. he didn't judge you and didn't say anything until you were finished telling him

Held you so tight that night that you almost couldn't breathe

Need mental help of any kind?

There's no need to feel ashamed about what's happened to you. Life can get the better on all of us at one point or another; but if someone does walk in and you don't have time to close the website properly, you can use the button at the top of the web page to quickly switch the tab to a weather forecast website.

#batfam #batfamily x reader #damian wayne x reader #jason todd x reader #batfamily #x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader

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bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

I'm on Fire

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!Reader

Part 5

18+Only, MDNI, implied smut, eventual smut, biker gang, violence, aggression, boxing, street fighting, alcohol consumption, slow burn, mutual pining, mature themes, angst, jealous!Eddie, first kiss, brief mention of what reader is wearing, mention of blood.

Word count: 8.4k

Series Masterlist

In part 5, a new situation blossoms between your roommate Katie and Robin Buckley, while you get up the nerve to give Eddie a call. Eddie gets questioned by the police (Chief Hopper) and you go to your first Fight Night, where the adrenaline-fueled dramas are plentiful. You and Eddie finally enter new and intimate territory.

I do re-read these several times, but it's almost impossible for me to edit my own work, so I hope it's not too fraught with errors.

“Tell me now, baby, is he good to you?

Can he do to you the things that I do?

I can take you higher.”

______

Around 8 o’clock the next morning, Robin and Steve were moving around the kitchen, bumping into each other like zombies, making coffee and dolling out the ibuprofen into each other’s palms. They both had the day off, but Wayne would be dropping Oliver by soon, and they had to get ready to be semi-functioning parents again.

Their voices were just below a whisper though, and their footsteps light as they tried to step on the parts of the old floor that didn’t creak, doing their best not to wake Katie who was asleep on the sofa in the living room.

Steve found Robin leaning against the archway that separated the two rooms, staring at the form of a body all wrapped up like a burrito in a red and white quilt, facing the back of the sofa, the top of her head the only visible part of her body.

They both had coffee mugs in their hands, steam rising from the freshly poured brew.

Steve nudged Robin with his elbow, his voice nothing but a scratchy murmur. “Should I wake her?”

“Don’t you dare,” Robin returned, quickly. “It’s her spring break, let her have a few more minutes.”

Steve put the rim of his mug to his lips and took stock of Robin’s smile as she watched Katie twitch in her sleep.

About a half hour after Eddie left the night before, you started to hit a wall as far as socializing went, and asked Katie if she was ready to hit the road. Katie, Robin, and a couple others were just setting up a folding table to play a game of cards, but you could feel your eyes drooping and knew you wouldn’t make it much longer.

“She can sleep here,” Robin said to you, but then realized she might have jumped the gun, fueled by her own enthusiasm for the idea. She turned to Katie, “if you want to, that is. You can stay here with me...on me...on our couch, I mean.”

Katie wasn’t one to casually “crash” at people’s houses; she loved waking up in her own bed. But, she was having an incredibly good time, and she didn’t want you to have to be forced to stay sober and wait for her, so she took Robin up on her offer.

You wondered if Katie might regret her decision in the morning, based solely on the fact that she was three sheets to the wind, and waking up with a hangover in a strange house is never optimal, but the intense flirting going on between her and Robin gave you all the reasoning you needed.

There were a few times you noticed Steve flirting with Katie, but she would always gravitate back to Robin; it was a fascinating triangle that you enjoyed being a witness to.

Back at the house that next morning, Robin let out a heavy sigh, and lifted her eyes to Steve for a beat before directing them back to Katie on the couch. “I think I’m going to need to take this one off your hands, Dingus.”

Steve swallowed a sip that was a bit too hot and clicked his tongue, the sides of his mouth jerking down. “Oh, I figured as much.”

Robin knew she wouldn’t get much of a fight out of him. Sure, he was attracted to Katie, but she was currently just one out of many crushes and conquests he had going on. The fact that he knew what it was like to kiss her, and been inside of her, made Robin jealous more than anything, but the second she felt her affection for Katie reciprocated, all bets were off.

“Besides,” Robin murmured just as they heard Wayne’s truck coming up the driveway. “She has already drooled on my pillow. It’s meant to be.”

Fully awake and playing possum, Katie’s nose was pressed against the back of the sofa, and a huge smile spread across her face.

----------

Later that afternoon, Eddie had a truck on the lift at his garage, wrenching away under the hood in his coveralls, hair tied back, Faith No More belting out from the stereo, when one of the other mechanics called over to him: “Munson, we’ve got company.”

It didn’t scare Eddie that the police were here, but it annoyed him. Getting questioned by Chief Hopper was standard procedure whenever the Coffin Kings were involved with something---whether Eddie played a part in it or not.

It just so happened that this time, he had played a part. He hadn’t been involved in the actual hand off at the Illinois border, but he rode as protection, hired muscle to bulk up their numbers to deter other gangs from trying to infiltrate their run. He never asked too many questions mostly because, in this particular situation, ignorance was bliss. The trade off had gone as planned, but an informant had tipped off the police about the delivery, and that’s what Hopper was there about.

“Hey, Jim, how’s the family?” Eddie came out to the parking lot to meet him at his bronco, leading with the standard polite banter they always started out with. Any other police Chief would’ve sent an officer out to ask these questions, but Jim did it himself as a courtesy because he liked Eddie, and he’d known the kid since he was in high school.

Hopper had on his tan uniform and hat, silver hair dusting his temples and mustache. “Oh, you know, the wife keeps me busy,” he grinned, referring to Joyce Byers. “All the kids have families of their own now, so the holidays are a nightmare.”

“I bet.” Eddie said it like he understood, but he had no idea what it was like to have a big, extended family.

Jim put one hand on his hip and asked about Wayne and Oliver, and then he took a deep breath before asking if Eddie knew anything about the run the Coffin Kings did the night before, and the stash of guns missing from a local warehouse.

Eddie creased his forehead like he was considering the question, and then shook his head. “The guys come here to have their bikes worked on, but I don’t get involved in that other shit. My days as a criminal on the run are behind me.”

Jim looked relieved by the lie. “I figured as much,” he shifted the brim of his hat. “I still have to ask where you were last night, just for the sake of the paperwork.”

That next part was easy, because he didn’t have to make too much of it up. The barbecue went late and he crashed at Steve and Robin’s.

“They’ll confirm this?”

Robin knew the drill, he never had to wonder. He did have to admit though, the little white lies were getting to him. He wasn’t a fan of cops in general, in the first place, but Jim had always been decent to him. He was doing his best to move away from the outlaw world, but it had been a part of his life for so long, it had its claws in him.

Once the serious questions were over, they both relaxed back into the banter of two people who had known each other for over a decade and cared about each other as friends do. Jim headed around to the driver’s side of his bronco and Eddie kept pace with him.

“We’re hosting another Fight Night here this weekend,” Eddie told him, gesturing with a tilt of his chin to where they usually set the ring up at. “You should come, have a few beers. Bring Joyce.”

Hopper chuckled. “Joyce should get in the ring, she’d wipe the floor with all of you.”

“I have no doubt,” Eddie grinned, thinking about that tiny firecracker of a woman. “If I were a betting man, all of my money would be on her.”

Jim got in behind the wheel and shut the door, leaving his window down. “Thanks for the invite. I’ll check and see if my warden has other plans for me.”

They said their goodbyes, and Eddie stayed to watch him exit the compound, offering a wave as he went.

That night, Eddie came out of the shower and into the bedroom of his apartment enveloped in a cloud of steam, with nothing but a dark blue towel wrapped around his waist, and wet hair hanging down his shoulders. He gave the phone on the nightstand a cautious look when it started ringing, his mind racing with all of the people he did not want to hear from at that late hour.

When he finally picked it up just before the fourth ring with a suspicious and informal, “Yeah?” his heart stuttered in his chest to find out that the person at the other end of the line was you.

--------

“So, are you two a couple now?” You asked Katie once you got home from work to find her giddy about the new developments between her and Robin.

“We haven’t even kissed yet,” Katie said from where she was at kitchen counter, washing lettuce for a salad. “But by lesbian standards, we’ll probably be moving in together next week.” It was a joke, of course, but there was also an element of truth there.

You sat down at the kitchen island to rest your chin on your fist. “I like you with Robin. Much better than Kelsey.” Kelsey was a long distance girlfriend that Katie had stayed faithful to for over a year before she realized that she was being cheated on mercilessly.

“Ugh,” Katie shivered at the thought. “You can’t even compare the two. Not even from the same universe.”

“What about you?” Katie asked as you slumped over with your coat still on and your bag over your shoulder. “Did Eddie break the seal yet?” She turned to raise her eyebrows a few times, suggestively.

“Please,” you barked a laugh. “At this rate, we’ll be in the nursing home before this escalates to dry humping,” as much as you were ready to crack jokes, the fact that he wasn’t jumping down your throat like every other guy made you like him even more. “I think he’s kind of shy, like me.”

“Wait, you’re shy?” Katie snickered.

“You know what I mean. Cautious, reserved: insert appropriate adjective here.”

“What is this, Mad Libs for dysfunctional adults?”

You let out a pensive sigh, your shoulders dropping. “Am I an adult? Because I haven’t felt this goofy over a guy I haven’t even kissed yet since I was a tween.”

Katie stopped what she was doing and dug in the front pocket of her jeans. “That reminds me. This is for you. It’s from Steve.”

With a tired frown on your face, you opened the lined notebook paper to see a phone number written in black ink, with Eddie’s name on top of it.

What were you so afraid of? He was just a hot, hard working, tattooed biker dude, with soft lips and kind eyes who you could absolutely see yourself falling in love with. What was there to be hesitant about??? Call him!

No...wait….

------------------

It took you a few hours to build up the courage, but you finally got settled on the wicker chair in your room with your Conair clear phone with neon insides balancing on your knee.

It was a while before he answered, and you were just about to hang up when his voice came on the line, stern and gruff.

“Yeah?” He didn’t sound glad to hear from you, but to be fair, he didn’t know it was you, yet.

You cleared your throat. “Hello, I’d like to speak to Mr. Edward Munson, please. Is he in the office today?”

Relief flooded through Eddie’s body, pumping refreshing blood into his heart when he recognized your voice. “He’s not here at the moment, you might want to try is vacation home in Greece.”

“I’m not here either,” you teased. “I’m calling you from outer space.”

Wet hair dripping down his chest, Eddie brought the phone closer and sat down on the edge of the bed, hard pressed to wipe the grin off of his face.

“I...called to let you to know I was thinking about you,” it just came bubbling out. There would be no pretense of hard to get here, you had no game.

The sincerity struck him dumb for a moment, but then, he wrapped one arm around his chest, tucking his hand into his armpit, giving himself an excited squeeze. “Yeah? Well, that’s a coincidence because I was just thinking about you while I was in the shower.”

Munson! *internally slaps forehead* Don’t tell her you were in the shower, god. She’s going to think you were doing exactly what you were doing which was jerking it to the thought of her being in there with you.

“I mean, when I got out of the shower, and saw your painting, I thought about you,” his eyes closed at the pathetic nature of that rebound.

You skipped over all of that and jumped to that next thing he just said. “You hung my painting in your apartment?”

He looked over at the painting in question, adjusting the towel at his hips. “Of course, silly. Where did you think I would put it? Above the bar at the Hideout?”

You fiddled the phone cord, twisting it around your finger. “I was thinking it would go in your coffin or tomb, wherever you sleep at night.”

He gave a low grumble of a laugh. “Oh that painting is definitely getting buried with me, I can promise you that.”

The conversation ebbed from talking about work, to asking about family. You learned that Eddie’s uncle Wayne was like a father to him, and that his biological parents were no longer a part of his life. This mirrored your loneliness at the fact that your father passed away two years ago and you weren’t close with your mother. You didn’t have the equivalent to an uncle Wayne though, but you wished that you did.

After a half hour or so, Eddie said, “hold on for just a second? I need to put some clothes on,” and your brain plummeted off a cliff to a really dirty place. Had he been naked for the entire time?

There was a dragging sound and a click as he picked the receiver up again, “sorry about that. I’m back.”

“I know it’s late,” you were trying to pull your thoughts out of the gutter, but they were rolling around in the mud, kicking their feet and giggling. “I should probably let you--”

“No, I mean, I’m not---” he stretched out on the bed and put his head on the pillow, his hand on his stomach. “Unless you need to go. I like the sound of your voice.”

“Well, you see, I don’t have any clothes on either. So, if you’re dressed, then I might as well throw something on too.”

“Wait, what?” Eddie stiffened, his eyes bulging wide for a blink. Was she serious?

“Clothes are so retraining. I want to be free, Eddie.”

He snorted and ran his hand up and down his belly. You were joking. But, now he was picturing you naked and his cock was growing. He reached down to palm it over his gray sweats, hoping to calm the beast. Phone sex was not out of the question, and he’d jump at the chance if you were down, but he was enjoying the soothing effect you had on him; it was the first night in a while that he felt relaxed and not pacing around the room, moodily spinning his wheels.

You were telling him the story of how you and Katie met, because he asked, and, as you did, he stretched over to flick the bedside lamp off so that he could close his eyes and let your voice wash over him in the dark.

“What about that fight thing Robin mentioned? Is that still happening?” You asked, and then you heard a soft little snort, as if he had drifted off to sleep for a second. You were snuggled down in the cushions of your chair with your cat Charlie in your lap, and your head snapped up. “Eddie?”

“I’m here,” he groaned in a whisper. “Sorry sweetheart, I don’t know what is happening to me.”

Sweetheart.

“Oh, I have a plethora of boring stories that will have you seeing sheep in no time, trust me.”

“You’re not boring,” he smiled against the phone. It was like you could hear his smile, day old stubble scratching against the receiver, a bit of saliva popping at the corner of his mouth. “You’re one of the most unique, interesting people I’ve ever met.”

There was a self-deprecating urge to quip, “well, then you haven’t met many people,” but you decided to just accept the compliment and move on.

He hadn’t planned on inviting you to Fight Night, only because it was a powder keg of testosterone and booze, and he didn’t think you’d be into it. He had grown up on the streets, thinking that getting into fist fights was the norm, but then in high school, Wayne got him into boxing, and he was grateful for the form, cadence, and stamina it afforded him.

Also, what if he lost the fight? Highly unlikely unless he decided to throw it on purpose, but did he want you to see that? Did you even want to see that? But Robin had already mentioned it, and he didn’t want you to think he didn’t want to see you.

“Yeah, the fights are Friday night, here at the compound. It’s pretty lame, actually. Lots of grunting and dick measuring,” he exhaled a heavy breath, his eyelids fluttering. “I would love to...take you on a date though, a real one. Somewhere nice.”

“It doesn’t have to be too nice,” you bit your lip, hoping he didn’t think you needed the full white tablecloth experience like some other women he knew. A cozy dinner and a movie was the type of scene you preferred. “You might be surprised at what a cheap date I am.”

“Back to The Hideout it is,” he clapped his hand to his chest, finishing with a throaty, warm chuckle.

You could tell he was fading away, and so you thought up a story to tell him; it was a personal favorite about a road trip you took with your dad when you were little. You knew any story would do because, after about 5 minutes, you heard his breathing get progressively heavier until there was a slight whistle in his nose at the intake of breath. So, you finished the story, and then held the phone close to your ear for way too long just to listen to him breathing.

“Sweet dreams my Eddie,” you whispered just before you reluctantly disconnected.

-------------

The next morning, Eddie woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in months. He had a solid 7 hours of sleep, which was unheard of lately, and it put an honest to god spring in his step. Of course, when he realized that the phone was by his head omitting a blank dial tone, he cursing himself for an early sleep to embrace him on that night of all nights. He’d just slipped into oblivion while you were talking to him, lulled to sleep by your sweet voice. He thought he had dreamed it, but now he was sure that you had said goodnight to him. Had you called him your Eddie? Maybe that part had been a dream, but not an impossible one.

--------------

While Katie had the week off, deservedly so, you were working overtime at the gallery to get ready for another show. Eddie called you on Wednesday night, but you got home way too late and had to hear his message on the answering machine because Katie was out somewhere with Robin. On Thursday night, you were there to answer his call, and the two of you talked for hours, even though you both agreed that you hated talking on the phone. Because of the new show at your gallery on Saturday night, the two of you made plans to go on an official date the following Tuesday, and Eddie told you he would pick the place, after asking a few questions about things that you liked.

There was still Fight Night on Friday to consider, but you got the feeling that the thought of you being there made Eddie uncomfortable. You had a strange protective nature that came over you when you cared about someone, though, and this nonsensical part of you want to be there to...make sure he didn’t get hurt? How would you manage that? You had very little to offer by way of physical strength, but you would, indeed, pull the fire alarm if Eddie looked like he was getting in over his head during the fight.

Robin and Katie and Steve were all going to be there, so you felt like it was the obvious plan. You even considered inviting Jeff because he was always complaining that there was nothing fun to do in town since he moved to the little hamlet from Chicago.

Also, you just really really missed Eddie, and wanted to see him. Tuesday was only a few days away, but it might as well have been a year.

----------

On Thursday night, Eddie fell asleep while on the phone with you again, as he told you he might, and you didn’t mind. Not only was he falling asleep, but he was officially falling for you and, for the first time in his life, he liked the way it felt. He got 8 hours of shut eye that night, on the eve of Fight Night, not realizing at the time how badly he would need it.

-------

The second Robin parked her jeep around the block for Fight Night, you understood why Eddie might not want you there.

It was like a carnival, but for booze, bikers, and strippers, complete with a DJ at a huge stereo system near the fence blasting out the song Only by Anthrax, and there were hot girls...so many of them...scantily dressed to kill, wandering around the property. White string lights draped around the fence, illuminating the walkway and there were also cast iron clad bonfires at every corner that groups huddled around. You weren’t even through the front gate yet, and you could already see two half naked women in the ring, executing a few pre-rehearsed wrestling moves for a bunch of howling bikers.

“What the hell?” Jeff murmured to you as three of the young, studly Prospect biker boys walked by, hair slicked back, wearing all leather. “Where have I been? Where did all these hot, dirty boys come from?”

He held onto your arm as you walked, hurrying up the sidewalk to the compound a few steps to catch up with Katie and Robin, both of whom were holding hands and taking turns leaning over to kiss each other as they walked. Steve was ahead of them, giving a signal to the bouncers at the gate to let them know that you were all with him before they let you in. He told you on the ride over that they had to have strict security at the event, and someone from the Coffin Kings, Westside Reapers, or Hell’s Belles (an all female MC) had to vouch for you, since the one time a rival gang showed up a few years back and there was a huge brawl.

“Hey, lovebirds,” you popped your face in between Robin and Katie’s pressed together shoulders just as they pulled back from another electric smooch. “No one told me this was basically a clothes optional event?”

Just inside the gate, as the three burly, bearded bouncers looked you all up and down, Robin turned and gave you a concerned look. “Eddie didn’t warn you about what a pussy fest this would be?”

Eddie had warned you, just not about that part specifically. You left the house feeling plenty cute enough in your skirt, fishnets and Doc Martens, but the fact that you had a shirt on over your bra made you feel extremely overdressed.

Eddie hadn’t even thought to mention the strippers and the arm candy and the groupies because he truly didn’t even give them a second thought. Since he met you, other women didn’t appeal to him beyond the casual acknowledgment of their attractiveness, and the whole scene just bored him damn near to death. Aside from a few exceptions being women who were taken by other guys in the club, Eddie could take any one of them up to his room at the drop of the hat, and that just wasn’t what he wanted anymore. The thrill was gone, as they say. He was up in his apartment doing some last-minute pushups as he listened to the crowd get rowdy down below. Steve called earlier to let you know that the girls were coming, including you, and for some reason, it gave him a nervous flutter in his stomach. He wasn’t too concerned about the other women bothering you, because he knew you had the confidence to handle your own. His worry had to do with the other dudes at that party and wanting to make sure none of them tried anything with you. Pity the fool who tried to make a move on you under his watch.

The parking lot of Munson’s Garage was huge, but that night it was still easy to bump shoulders with people as you walked because there were so many of them. There was a keg and two ice tubs full of beer, as well as the many flasks of hard alcohol you saw being passed around. You saw a beautiful woman with long black hair giving one of the bikers a lap dance, and then burst of cheering exploded in your ear as one of the women in the ring threw the other one against the ropes.

Steve was immediately manhandled by two of the tattooed groupies who could’ve been models and looked like twins. He gave a shy tilt of his head but a charming waggle of his eyebrows as they kissed his cheeks, rubbed his chest, and asked him where he’d been. Robin had one arm around Katie’s waist, and her other arm motioned for you and Jeff to follow them to get some beers.

You and Jeff both looked like the proverbial deer in headlights. Not even full-grown deer, but little baby does on wobbly knees who were looking for their mommy.

Jeff assessed the cans in the tub of ice. “Not a white wine spritzer in sight,” he muttered to you, but mostly to himself. “I am not excited for the beer bloat I am going to have tomorrow.”

“Your brave sacrifice has been noted,” you told him, reaching down for a can, while the girls chose to tap the keg. There was a small fee for the beer, and Robin threw some money in, letting you know she had the first round.

The music cut out suddenly as the women in the ring did a farewell pass around, picking up the cash that was being fluttered over the ropes to them. The DJ asked for applause for the girls, and then he announced the names for the first fight of the evening. According to Steve, the first couple fights would be mostly amateur hour, a few younger Prospects from the Coffin Kings, and a couple of the other gangs that were in attendance. After that, there’d be 3 main fights, all different weight classes, and Eddie’s was last. The fights were a mix of bare-knuckle boxing/kickboxing and mostly just for fun, but there was some friendly betting that went on, and there was always a chance for someone to get really hurt as the adrenaline ran hot. Eddie knocked his opponent out so hard last year, the guy confessed to actually seeing stars.

A tan, busty blonde in a red string bikini did a tour of the ring holding up the large card to give the official mark for round one. For the first two fights, you enjoyed the time with your friends, amused at how easily the beer was going down for Jeff, considering he supposedly didn’t like the taste of it. Robin introduced you to some of her friends who rode with the gang Hell’s Belles, and she introduced Katie once as her girlfriend, which was an accidental slip up, and she worried it was too soon, but, honestly, Katie liked it.

As the third and final amateur fight got underway, your eyes shifted up to Eddie’s apartment, and in that second, you decided that you couldn’t wait, that you needed to see him, you didn’t want to hold out until the end of the fights. You gave your beer to Jeff and told him to stay with Katie and Robin, and then you made your way over as Back in Black by AC/DC played for the first fighter walk-up.

The garage was locked up, and the porch to Eddie’s door was fenced off, but there were a couple of leggy girls in skintight dresses and stiletto heels hanging around just outside of it, near one of the fire pits, as if waiting for him. You excused yourself as you weaved around them, oblivious to their judgmental stares, angling with your hand to reach down and flick open the temporary fence gate.

“Excuse me, sweetie, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The one who looked like Paris Hilton said, eyeballing your outfit.

You gave a broken laugh, confused. “I came to see Eddie, he’s a friend of mine.”

One of the other girls snorted, and Paris put her hands on her narrow hips. “He’s busy, sweetheart, but if you want to leave a message with me, I’ll be sure to pass it along.” She was not being sincere when she said it, in fact, the rest of them started giggling, mockingly so. They were all taller than you, but only because their heels put on another 4”.

She moved to block the gate, and before you could think of the next thing to say, the Paris girl was in your face again. “Like I said, sweetie, move along. There’s nothing for you here,” and then she flicked her hand a few times for emphasis.

Confusing your politeness for weakness was her first mistake. You took a step towards her, straightening your shoulders, narrowing your eyes on her obvious rhinoplasty. “I’m not going anywhere until I see Eddie.”

“Listen, bitch---” Paris crossed her arms and sent daggers from her eyes, just before she was cut off.

“Erika!” Eddie growled from the doorway; forehead clenched. “Move.”

Relief took the vise grip off of your chest at the sight of his face. Hulking in the doorway, he gave you a tilt of his chin, and then his attention went back to the Paris/Erika girl.

“Oh sorry baby,” Erika turned around, her voice high pitched, her demeanor completely changed. “I figured you didn’t want to be disturbed so I was---”

Eddie ignored her as he went over to unlock the makeshift fencing that he only put up for events so that he could have a space of his own. He had on a black muscle shirt with wide, scooped out arm holes so that his sides were visible and a pair of sweats. Heat radiated off of him and little hollow spot his throat glistened with sweat like he had just been working out, dark hair hanging long, passed his shoulders.

He held the short gate open for you, his back to Erika, as you scooted into the space. “You look good enough to eat,” his eyes traveled down your body and then back up to meet your eyes.

“In that case, I hope you’re hungry,” you replied with a coy grin. Your responses always caught him off guard and he blew a quick laugh out his nose. One of the guys in the ring got socked in the nose by his opponent and stumbled back against the ropes, dazed.

He locked the gate again and turned toward you, but you peeked around his body to make eye contact with Erika one last time. “Have a good night, sweetie,” you told her, flashing a fake smile.

The disgust and jealousy on her face was palpable and priceless.

You and Eddie hadn’t physically progressed beyond the point of brief handholding yet, but it felt like you hadn’t seen him in a month, and you needed to be close to him. You stepped forward, leaned against his chest, and pressed your cheek above his heart, ziplocking your body to his as your arms wrapped around his muscular frame, palms smoothing in circles on his back.

Eddie returned the embrace with a needful sigh. “Mhmm this is what I needed, right here,” he murmured, planting a kiss on the top of your head. The two of you just swayed there for a bit; he rocked gently, shifting his weight to each foot, taking you with him.

You tilted your head back to anchor your chin on his chest and he looked down to meet your eyes.

“I couldn’t wait till after the fight,” you admitted. “I missed you.”

When you declared your affection for him, even in the slightest way, it made his insides go all gooey and sweet, but it also made a part of him tense up, awareness of how lost in you he could get striking a healthy amount of fear in him. Putting his trust in someone, giving over his heart, had never gone well for him in the past.

“Yeah?” he used the tip of his fingers to push a few strands of hair off of your forehead, and then ran his knuckle down your cheek. “Well that’s funny, cause I’ve been missing you pretty bad too.”

The referee blew his whistle and called the fight. You and Eddie had a close view from the front of this place, and both of the guys coming down from the ring had swollen, cut faces, and one of them was limping. The DJ played Engine No. 9 by Deftones as they prepared for the main event fights.

“Who are you fighting tonight?” You asked as you slowly and reluctantly lowered your arms, and he did the same, but he kept one hand at your back, scooping you securely to his side, craving contact with you.

Eddie checked the crowd to see if he could spot the big redhead, but no luck; there were way too many fucking people there. “His nickname is Critter, he runs with the Westside Reapers. He’s a good fighter,” Eddie shrugged, and then he looked down at your concerned face, squeezing your shoulder. “but don’t worry, Princess, I’m better.”

“Hey War Machine,” a gruff voice came from the other side of the fence, near the garage. You both turned to see a tall, bald, older man in a Coffin Kings cut addressing Eddie. “Doc is ready for you.”

The guy wasn’t actually a doctor, but he was a medic, and he helped to tape up hands before the fights, and then tape up faces after. Eddie also needed to change his clothes and get all lathered up with Vaseline.

Eddie told him he’d be right there, and then his attention came back to you. “Wait for me after?”

You were smiling like an idiot at him, loving the hell out of his face. “Of course.”

You didn’t care if “after” meant 48 hours from now; you’d still be waiting there.

And then he kissed your forehead and went over to jump the fence.

---------

“Am I drunk, or is that guy really hot?” Jeff asked, nudging to direct your eyes over to a shy looking biker boy with a curly blonde pony tail and shockingly blue eyes. He had an absolute baby face, he couldn’t have been much older than 20.

“He’s definitely your type,” you assured him. “I think he’s been checking you out for a while, too.”

“Okay, so it’s not just my imagination?” Jeff balked, relieved that he hadn't lost his touch.

Just then, the guy lifted his hand in a covert wave, and Jeff mimicked it. “Oh my god, I love you for bringing me here,” Jeff whispered without moving his lips. “Besties for life.”

You bought the next round of beers just as the second main fight finished and it was about to be Eddie’s turn.

“Damn, I didn’t know I’d get this nervous,” you told Robin, looking down at your feet.

“It never gets easier to watch, I’ll tell you that,” she returned, agreeing with you, a smile in her eyes as she caught sight of Katie coming back through the crowd. But then her eyes shifted to see the genuine set of fear and concern on your face. “Hey, I know he’s kinda humble about it, but Eddie’s a beast, and he’s smart. He can take care of himself up there, don’t worry,” and then she rubbed her hand on your arm and it felt very warm and motherly.

Critter, the guy Eddie was fighting came out to a good amount of claps and shouts; he was a stocky redhead with his hair in a faux hawk, covered in really crude, homemade tattoos. He had on silky sapphire blue shorts and the word “REAPER” inked in large, old English letters across his upper back.

He bounced around in his corner, shaking his hands out, and working his neck.

Eddie came out to Walk by Pantera and everyone went nuts for him when they announce War Machine was entering the ring; arms all raised high, cupping hands around mouths to shout, a lot of fingers throwing up the symbol for devil horns. You wanted to be closer, so you pushed your way through the crowd, keeping your eyes on him as he came up the steps and climbed in through the ropes.

His chiseled but natural muscle tone literally glistened, accentuating the big tattoo on his chest, and now you could see that part of his was a menacing bat with fangs. Big tattoos on each bicep, and then there were a few on his forearms, and a couple designs on his thigh and back that you had never seen before. The other guy, Critter, had surprisingly skinny legs, like he spent his time training upper body and nothing else. Eddie’s physique on the other hand, was built for power at all angles. His shorts were black with a dark purple cluster of bats on one side, just like his tattoo.

You had never spent much time watching boxing, but for in the movies, and both of them had a “corner man” who helped to take care of them, and in this case, for Eddie, it was the bald, older Coffin King you’d seen earlier. Eddie had his hair tied back in a knot, and you watched as his corner man helped him secure his gloves as he bounced a little in place.

You got in as close as you could, not realizing at first that you were standing right behind Steve. You tapped him on the shoulder. “Is this guy any good?”

Steve looked at you over his shoulder. “Who? Eddie?”

“No,” for some reason, you were whispering even though the place was too loud for anyone to hear you. “The other one.”

He hitched his head to one side and brought his shoulder up. “Meh, he’s alright. Nothing to worry about.”

Once the fight started, Eddie wasn’t one to dive in for a kill; a big part of his advantage was how patient he was, and how well he was able to disconnect from his emotions. He had already scanned the crowd for you, knew exactly where you were, and his eyes would shift there from time to time.

Critter charged him like a bull, and Eddie stepped away so fast, the guy looked confused, like maybe he had suddenly elevated into the sky. The guy had a lot of energy and aggression, and those things alone had won fights before, so Eddie stayed alert.

Critter wasn’t great at keeping his guard up, and so Eddie lit a good one to the side of his head, and then a jab to the gut just before the two were asked to break apart for a minute.

“Do I know you?” A voice materialized at your ear. The ref had just told the two fighters to pause, and so you looked over to see who was asking.

It was another biker, but he didn’t look like he was with one of the gangs. He had an Ethan Hawke look about him. “I don’t think so,” you told him, eyes returning to the match.

“That’s crazy,” the guy kept talking, leaning closer to you, his stubble catching in your hair. “Cause I swear I recognize you from somewhere. What’s your name?”

For some reason, instead of telling him to buzz off, you gave him your name, and then he stuck his hand out to shake yours. “Nice to meet you, they call me Brick.”

Eddie was just getting ready to dodge a swing when he saw it: the dude leaning over, in your face, with your hand in his.

Critter made contact and clocked him a good one to the eye socket. Eddie stumbled back, blinking, his skull vibrating. It took him a second, but then he drove forward and caught Critter with a left hook, and then grabbed his head and slammed it into his knee---which was an illegal street fighting move, and the ref blew the whistle.

Your hand flew to your mouth with a gasp when Eddie got hit, but he seemed to recover fairly quickly and then went after the guy ten-fold, in a way that almost made you feel bad for Critter.

Suddenly, that emotionless, in control part of Eddie was slipping away, and all he could think of was how he didn’t want that guy to be anywhere near you. He wanted this fight to be over.

Critter caught him again because Eddie slipped his guard, and then he got a second one in the ribs for losing his concentration. He barreled down on Critter like a hammer after that, landing one after the other until the ref had to stop things and check on the other dude.

You hoped that the guy next to you finally got the hint that you weren’t interested in chatting, but he was still standing there, unnecessarily close, with his shoulder locked against yours.

“Do you live around here?” Brick continued.

You were just about to say it was none of his business when there was a lull in the crowd, and Steve heard his question. The flirtatious nature of his tone made Steve turn around to see who was talking.

He made eye contact with Brick and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Dude, get lost. Go find another girl.”

“Nah, I think I’m fine right here,” Brick countered, lifting his eyebrows.

The tension got thick real quick.

The fight in the ring started up again, but now Steve was turning all the way around to square his shoulders at Brick. “I said, get lost,” he enunciated every syllable with force, dark brown eyes glowing.

Eddie got jabbed in the kidney for pausing too long, and it was at that moment when he decided he was done with this shit. He took a giant step and cracked a tight punch to Critter’s jaw that actually made him spin half-way around in the air before dropping to the mat with a final thud. The ref blew the whistle, waved his arms like crazy, and then went over to make sure the dude was still breathing.

Eddie did not look happy as he jumped the ropes.

Steve hadn’t liked this guy at first glance, and now he was being disrespectful? Not happening.

Steve got up in Brick’s face, challenging him, chest to chest, and even though you were trying to back away as quickly as you could, the crowd behind you would not give. Brick brought his arms out to shove Steve back, and his elbow caught you in the mouth. You yelped as your head snapped back, teeth clamping onto your tongue, tasting blood, rocking on your feet.

Eddie was shoving people out of the way to get to you; he felt like things were moving in slow motion, like he was in some kind of nightmare where he couldn’t get to you in time and somehow you ended up getting really hurt. Finally, he was catching you by the arms and pulling you tight to his chest. Pieces of your hair glued to the stickiness of his skin as you clung to him for dear life. He took your face in his hands to find that your teeth were pink and a bit of blood was spilling from the side of your mouth, and a low growl escaped his throat. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, trying to wipe the blood from your chin with his thumb, but it only smeared, and angry tears welled in his eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the guy swing at Steve, but it didn’t land, and Steve pushed him back with extreme force. Brick stumbled back, but then bounced off the hands of the crowd and returned like he was shot from a rubber band.

The crowd was jostling now, buzzing with shouts and people turning to see what was going on. Your vision was blurry. Some of them were yelling to break it up, but some of them wanted it to escalate.

“Steve...Eddie!” Robin screamed as she scrambled to come up next to you and Eddie, breathless, Katie and Jeff close in tow, all of them stressed out. Actually, Jeff looked more amused than anything and you knew he couldn't wait to retell this story.

“Take her,” Eddie said to Robin, passing you off reluctantly so that he could take care of business.

Eddie put his hand out to catch Steve’s shoulder and stop him in his tracks. “I got this,” he said, eyes narrowing on Brick.

Just as intimidated by Eddie as most people were, Brick took a stutter step before lashing out with his best punch, only to have it effortlessly blocked. Eddie got close enough to grab him by the jacket, making a tight fist in the material, yanking him closer, and Brick tried to get a punch in, but he didn’t have much reach. Eddie’s other hand reeled back to make a fist and land a bare-knuckle blow with just enough force to clock his lights out. Brick’s eyes rolled back in his head as he went limp in Eddie's grasp for a second and then fell sideways, and a couple of leather clad Hell’s Belles stepped out of the way so that the pavement could catch him.

Eddie and Steve walked over to stand above him, and found that the guy was stunned, eyes rolling in his head, but he was conscious. He really did have a hard head; now it made sense why they called him Brick.

Eddie spit on him. “I ever see you again, I’ll fucking kill you,” and then he looked around at all of the eyes on them, and added, “someone get this piece of shit out of here before the cops show up.” And then there were hands coming out everywhere to drag Brick away and throw him in a dumpster down the block where he could think about what he’d done.

You were scared of what Eddie would do to that guy, but you weren’t scared of Eddie. When he was on his way back, you slipped free of Robin’s grasp and met him half way, rushing into his arms, reaching up to feather your fingers over his swollen cheek and eye that was soon to blacken. There was hair stuck to his cheek and you smoothed it away just before he took your hand and kissed the middle of your palm. Most of the crowd went back to socializing as normal, as if this had been just a casual thing that they were used to, and the DJ started the music again.

Sinking into heavy, adrenaline fueled breaths, he held your chin in his curled knuckle while his other arm went around your waist. He brought his face close to yours, and cupped your throat, noses brushing side by side, foreheads touching, exchanging oxygen through parted lips, like two deep sea divers whose lives depended on it. You had wiped the blood from your chin, but you could still taste the copper penny tang, and he moved his mouth to plant a kiss on the side of your lips, softly, a low purr omitting from his chest as he did so.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice cracking, lips grazing, as your hands sought each other, trying to get as close as you could. He pulled back to inspect every inch of your face, and then brushed his lips over your mouth.

“I am now,” you told him.

He took your hand and held it to his chest, sweaty and still viscous with petroleum, oblivious to the rest of the party continuing on around you.

You could feel his mouth hovering, wanting more, but hesitant, so gentle. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathed.

“I can’t feel a thing,” you confessed, referring to your bitten and numb tongue. “But, my mouth is bloody.”

“I don’t care,” he said, and there was a bit of an eager whimper on the intake of breath as his plump lips melted onto yours, moaning as he did so, tightening his grip on you, grabbing your face, aching, feeding on the air from your lungs and your bloody kisses as the rest of the world faded away.

----------

“She took them both to the grave

to the grave

a pair of souls become undone

Where were two, now are one”

- Bloody Kisses, Type O Negative, 1994

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Part 6

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