#How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: part 1

Jason meets Single Dad Danny who is taking care of a de-aged Dani while trying to get his degree at Gotham U. Both of them fall hard, hijinks and shenanigans ensue, simping on both sides.

Edit: background info/lore found here

Edit: part 2 now found here

~~~~

Step 1: Meet an attractive single parent

As a Crime Lord/vigilante Red Hood had multiple safe houses that he used in and out of the mask. Some were for each exclusive identity to prevent anyone from linking them together and others used for both. Currently, Jason was walking out of his 2nd favorite safe house and the mostly permanent residence of “civilian and non-profit worker: Jason Todd” with a plate of cookies and a pan full of lasagna for his new neighbors that moved in two doors down. He may have been a street rat but he’d be damned if Alfred and Talia hadn’t taught him hospitality (it was a fact of life that grandparents and Asian people would try to feed their guests like their honor depended on it). Plus it was a great way to do some reconnaissance on whether or not these new neighbors could potentially pose an issue. The apartment complex was on the border of Crime Alley and Burnley meaning the people who lived there weren’t doing too hot money-wise but were at least able to avoid the worst of Crime Alley. Jason was just planning to go over introduce himself, hand over the homemade food, and head off to a different safe house to get his gear and patrol. However, he was not expecting to see his new neighbor standing outside struggling to open his own door, a six-year-old on his hip, arguing with someone over the phone. The young man had a lean build and appeared to be no older than 20, give or take a year or two. He had black bangs that cast a shadow on his face making his eye-bags appear even darker and startling blue eyes clouded with anger and resentment, likely towards whoever was on the phone. He was so occupied with his conversation he didn’t seem to notice that someone else had stepped into the hallway. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a loose white shirt with a NASA logo on it that slightly hung off his shoulder. He also wore a black hoodie with a white hood and neon green accents that seemed to be subject to his sister(?)’s death grip. Despite his disheveled state, there was something about his new neighbor that drew him in. His aura washed over Jason like a cool breeze on a hot day making it hard for Jason to look away. He would have continued assessing the man if he hadn’t made eye contact with the identical blue eyes of the young girl perched on his hip, who looked at him with a curious sparkle in her eyes. He discreetly turned back around to lock his own door, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation the elder (brother?) seemed to be having. It could provide some info on these new neighbors.

“-shut up Vlad! I’m not moving into your rich guy penthouse! I wouldn’t be taking any of your shady money if I didn’t need child support for Ellie!”

Huh. So her dad/guardian then?

“ Of course I have to do this Vald! What’s the other option, sending her back to a Frootloop like you?! … I’m not going to abandon Ellie for something that wasn’t her choice. She didn’t ask to be created Vlad that’s why she gets a chance.”

Okay so setting aside the rather concerning parts New Neighbor Guy™️ was definitely that child’s parent. Seems fairly rational as well.

“How do I know you’d be a terrible guardian? Plenty of reasons, do you want the list chronologically or alphabetized! You violated me, who you said you wanted to adopt despite me having two living parents, you created Ellie and several other failed attempts without my knowledge, you hid her from me, you tried to teach her to hate me before we even met, you named her Danielle after me instead of giving her her own identity, the list goes on and on Vlad! Do you want me to continue because that’s just the stuff that involves Ellie— I was 14, you middle-aged vampire look-alike! Of course I wasn’t jumping at the chance to become a teen dad! I was a freshman in high school! Besides you know what my parents are like, lab safety regulations were more like a healthy suggestion to them. I was in no position to be taking care of a child!”

Rage flashed in Jason’s eyes as he tightened his grip on his glass Tupperware pan full of lasagna. This conversation was not painting a pretty picture about his neighbor’s situation. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself before belatedly realizing his neighbor had gotten real quiet. He turned around, catching the tail end of his neighbor’s conversation as he finally succeeded in opening the door.

“Whatever Vlad, just keep paying your child support and for Ancients’ sake please stop trying to date my mom. …. Yeah, yeah screw you too Count Chocula.”

The neighbor set his daughter down, likely so she could enter the apartment, and slipped his phone from between his head and shoulder into his hand to hang up on that Vlad guy. Now seemed like as good a time as any to approach. Jason walked up the the young man and coughed trying to get his attention. The young man met Jason’s eyes with a somewhat surprised look. As if he wasn’t unaware of Jason’s presence but hadn’t expected him to talk to him. Jason decided he should start speaking now before things got too awkward.

“Uh- Hi, I’m Jason. I live a few doors down in 357,” he said glancing at the 353 on his neighbors’ door before he continued. “I heard you moving in a few days ago and thought I’d swing by with some food to welcome you to the building.” He stuck out his hand for the other to shake.

“Hi I’m Danny, Danny Nightingale,” he said taking Jason’s hand and ‘Wow his hands are cold’, “ and this little munchkin here is Ellie!” Danny and Ellie flashed him matching smiles like twin suns making Jason's heart melt. He returned their smiles before extending the food to Danny.

“ I don’t know if you’ve had time to get groceries yet but here’s some homemade lasagna if you need a quick meal while you’re getting settled,” he then crouched down to Ellie’s level and stage-whispered in her ear conspiratorially “ and there are some chocolate chip cookies on that plate too.”

Ellie giggled out a thank and threw her arms around Jason’s neck, giving him a quick hug before letting go and dashing into the apartment. Jason watched her go, stunned but feeling warm and fuzzy inside. He turned his attention back to Danny, who shook his head and huffed amusedly. They made eye contact as Jason rose and realized he was a head taller than the guy. He felt the heat expanding in his chest and crawling up his neck, curling behind his ears. He decided now that Ellie had gone in it would be a good time to talk to Danny about what he overheard.

“ So it really wasn’t my intention to do so but I overheard some of that conversation you were having over the phone earlier,” he watched Danny’s smile drop a bit as he winced. Jason awkwardly brought up his hand to scratch the back of his neck and continued.

“ Look I don’t wanna insert myself into your situation but if you ever need help I’m just a few doors down. And if that guy gets pushy or stops sending his child support I can help you find a couple of avenues you can take. Plus, although we’re technically outside Red Hood’s territory I’m sure he wouldn’t mind extending protection over you like he does for the other Crime Alley folk if ya really need it.”

Danny’s face smoothed out looking a bit flushed and appreciative as he went on. He gave Jason a small smile and replied, “ Thank you for the offer. I really do appreciate it. Might just take ya up on it at some point. As for Red Hood? I think I’ll avoid needing the protection of a crime boss vigilante if I can help it. Don’t worry too much about Vlad though. I’ve got him handled currently and he’ll behave if he knows what’s good for him!” Danny smiled threateningly towards the end of his reassurance. (‘His canines are peaking out that’s so cute’)

Jason chuckled with Danny as their eyes locked once more. They stayed lost in each others’ eyes for what seemed like hours before they heard a thump followed by a small “oof” coming from inside the apartment. Danny turned to the door and called out to Ellie,

“Ellie, what was that? Are you okay”

“I’m fine! My shirt just fell!”

“That sounded heavier than a shirt?”

“I was in it!”

Danny sighed, shaking his head before turning to Jason once more.

“Thank you again for the food, any chance you’d like to come in and have something to drink?”

“Thanks for the offer but I’ll have to decline. I need to start heading out for work.”

“Well then, I shouldn’t keep you. I’d hate to make you late for work.” He waved goodbye as Jason nodded his head and started walking down the hall.

His neighbors seemed entirely harmless he decided as he walked away. ‘The kid was cute’ he thought to himself. A smaller voice from the back of his head that sounded vaguely like the Pits chimed in ‘Her dad was even cuter.’

~~~~~ Please let me know what you guys think and if you want to see more of this. I thrive on feedback so feel free to leave any notes or comments!

[chaoticace2005]

Where the fuck did Pentious’ Eggs come from??

(A list by Angel Dust at 2 am at the bar.)

1. He laid them then did some fucked up shit to them.

2. Laid them and they came out fully formed???

3. Ate a ton of eggs, got sick and then shat them out??

4. Boiled them in some fucked up chemical.

5. Was trying to make hard boiled eggs but was just REALLY bad at cooking.

6. Some eternal punishment because he was a dick to chickens when he was alive.

7. He has a chicken trapped in the basement (do we have a basement?) that he forced to lay eggs for him.

8. Bought them at the store.

9. He died by drowning in eggs and now has the power to make sentient eggs.

10. He just really likes eating eggs and wants easy access to food.

11. Made a deal with the Easter Bunny.

12. They’re ancient beings that already existed and decided to follow Pentious of their own free will (which WHY?!?!)

13. They’re GODS.

14. Pentious turns his enemies into eggs, taking their intelligence (what he does with it is unknown, cause he clearly ain’t using it)

15. They’re robots!!

16. They’re orphans that Pentious found and adopted.

17. He stole them from some chicken themed overlord.

18. Really REALLY bad sinners (like Nazis?) become eggs as punishment.

19. It’s what happens when you give eggs crack.

20. They’re his imaginary friends (wait then how can I see them?!)

21. They’re high and none of this is real. (FUCK! You don’t have to throw something at me Husk!)

22. I’m not high but I AM mentally ill.

23. They’re what happens to bad kitties who say that “OF COURSE” I’m mentally ill.

24. Maybe they’re NISS’ kids. Cause he’s a spider. So he can lay eggs??

25. Wait. IM a spider. I could lay eggs! What if they’re MY kids?! FUCK I DONT WANNA BE A DAD!!!

26. Does this mean I have to pay child support?? Cause I’m broke.

27. Have I killed my own kids??

28. Do I need a lawyer?

29. How does Husk feel about being a step father?

30. Fuck I really need to go to bed. Or do crack.

31. Kid, what the FUCK is this list??

32. NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS!

[gaywarcriminals]

Rating Scum Villian characters based on how milfy they are:

Shen (Yuan) Qingqiu: an easy 10/10. You can’t tell your disciplesonwife that you wouldn’t abort him without becoming a milf.

Luo Binghe: and on the opposite end of the spectrum, 0/10! He’s just a little baby. He is 1,000 years younger than shizun and he likes it that way! He’s a wife, but an 18 y/o, husband’s-third-remarriage wife— he’s the same age as his husbands kids from the first wife. no milf vibes to be seen.

Liu Qingge: 1/10. Deep down he might have some parental traits, but as-is he is somewhere between weird (autistic) uncle and half-feral farm cat.

Liu Mingyan: 5/10. She’s still in her larva state of milfdom but someday she will be an excellent Mommy.

Ning Yingying: 3/10. Right now she’s baby and she likes it that way, but she has the bite of authority to her, and maybe in the far flung further she’ll spec into the Dommy Mommy skill tree.

Sha Hualing: 0/10. She’s baby, she’s a brat, she’s going to bite you and have a temper tantrum.

Shang Qinghua: 2/10. I have to give him a few points for being Binghe’s daddy, but we all know he’s a deadbeat dad who ran off with his new wife and left his kids alone with their step mom. The closest he gets to being nurturing is homoerotically saving his sexy OC, which is a Whole Different Thing.

Mobei-Jun: 5/10 for them tiddies.

Yue Qingyuan: 10/10. No I will not be explaining.

Shen Jiu: 9/10 because he’s abusive as only a mother can be 💖

Luo Bingge: -10/10. This man canonically has a fuck ton of kids and I don’t believe he knows any of their names. He is simply too Babygirl to parent 😔. SY come pick him up.

Qi Qingqi: 8/10 step on me mommy

Mu Qingfan: 6/10 I believe he can to unspeakable things to you while shushing you with a gentle smile

Tianlang-Jun: 7/10 for breedability, tits, and nephew raising, small point deduction for fumbling his actual son.

Su Xiyan: 0/10. She’s a Daddy, there’s a difference.

Zhuzhi-lang: -3/10 he is so tiny so small he is just a little guy just a snek

Madam Meiyin: 9/10 I fully believe all those succubi are her daughter-wives who she raises and teaches to hunt and comforts them when their prey gets away—

Six Balls: 6/6 six balls.

[dclovesdanny]

Dcxdp fanfic recs w/ specific tropes

Also, all of these are on AO3 unless specified otherwise.

First off: Deaged Ellie\Teen Dad Danny

Since this got first place, here are three fics for this trope

My first submission for this is How To Become a Step-dad in 5 Easy Steps by CallMeStrega. It’s dead on main, with a ton of misunderstandings and pining Jason. Ellie is 6 in this fic, and it is so adorable

My second recommendation for this trope is Issues Regarding One Daniel Jonas by SIRDUCK_07. It has some dead serious, but that hasn’t shown up much in the fic yet. It delves more into how creepy Vlad is, and has twins Ellie and Dan.

My third submission is Brothers Ever After by Music_Feeds_My_Soul. It is somewhat centered around Damian and Danny being twins, but Danny being ‘pregnant’ with Ellie is a huge part of it, and it is a really good fic.

Next trope: Dimension Travel

My first recommendation for this one is Ghostly Delivery by WeirdNCrazy. It is very funny, and goes through Danny meeting all the main heroes, not just the Batfam.

My second recommendation for this trope is Danny's Accidentally Super-Inducing Adoption Chaos Filled Extravaganza! By Conartist170. Two of the tags are ‘This fic is not to be taken seriously’ and ‘Take everything with several ounces of salt’ which describes its vibes perfectly.

Next trope: Dead on Main

My first recommendation for fics of this ship is When You Accidentally Kill A Clown by SchlalensitzBucket. It’s only visible to those with AO3 accounts, but it is 100% worth it, with tons of shenanigans and shipping.

My next recommendation is Arctic Siren by Magpie_Crow. It is so cute and Danny is both androgynous and flirty as hell. Plus, something really cool happens in chapter one, leading to a smitten Jason.

Next up: Undead Dad Jason

My first rec for this type of fic is The Boy King and the Dark Knights by smallgaything. It is not only funny, but it hits you in the feels while incorporating several different tropes. Also, it’s one of the first Dcxdp fics I ever read, so it has a special place in my heart.

My second rec is Don’t Leave Me in the Dark by Astra_Nova_Kat. It has Good parents Fentons and Undead Dad, which isn’t really common, but works so well in this fic. It also has a bunch of misunderstandings, which everyone knows I adore.

And that’s all (for now). Let me know in the comments if you want more!

[calumfmu]

masterlist.

Steve Harrington

spread thin. (18+) You and Steve have been best friends for the entirety of your lives, always platonic and nothing more. As graduation approaches, you find yourself wishing that something would come out of this decades long friendship. During a recurring Friday movie night, you confess your feelings to him, not realizing the man had felt the same way the entire time.

bad decision, right? (18+) You were new in town, guarded from the wandering eyes of everyone in Hawkins High. You had one rule, don't overshare, even if it was at the hands of Steve Harrington, certified asshole and heartthrob of the school.

the king's reign. (18+) King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

sugar coated melting. (18+) Being assistant to the famous Steve Harrington wasn't an easy task, he was demanding as ever and made sure he was nice to everyone but you. But a job was a job, and it was the cost of working in Hollywood.

baby, no attachment. (18+) the 5 times Steve Harrington was an asshole to you, with the 1 time, he revealed his true self.

+blurbs

meeting drunk steve for the first time

first time with inexperienced steve

+requests

steve x fuckgirl!reader (18+)

loser!steve turned step-dad!steve (+part two)

steve stealing reader from eddie (18+) (+part two)

steve finding out you're pregnant with twins

Eddie Munson

arms of a careful lover. (18+) You didn't know how he was, the stranger driving you home. He knew you, knew all about your life, and his picture-perfect ideal of you. As you traveled through the town of Hawkins, you couldn't help, but ask yourself 'Who The Fuck is Eddie Munson'?

+blurbs

bad influence (18+)

Steddie

i heard you liked magic. (18+) Eddie spoke often of Steve, mentioning how much he couldn't stand him, him stealing Dustin from him, being rude, so perfect in his perfect little house. You thought the feeling was mutual until you laid eyes on him, immediately understanding the tension was more than they both led on. (Steddie x reader)

+requests

steddie x reader who is playing them both (+part 2)

Felix Catton

tell me what you need. (18+) Felix was exactly what you needed to get your hands on, right here and now. Finding him in the maze was the easy part.

Sterek

whatever happens tomorrow, we had today; and I'll always remember it. (18+) Derek and Stiles meet on the day of their graduation. It's supposed to be the start of the rest of their lives, yet they can't get rid of each other, no matter how hard they both try. They weren't meant to meet that night, they weren't meant to be in each other's lives for the rest of it, yet they can't get rid of each other. Over the course of the next 15 years, they keep intersecting in each other's lives becoming the main reasons for why they keep on going.

inbox and requests are open ! xx

updated 24 apr 2024 <3

[written-in-flowers]

Aegon Targaryen spending time with his four kids and wife, Almost 5?? I loved the four becomes five fic.

A/N: okay, this isn't exactly Aegon spending time with his kids, but that is at the end. I kind of like dad!Aegon despite how OOC it can be.

Tags: loads of parental fears, parental worries, mentions of pregnancy issues, mentions of premature illness, mentions of baby illness, miscarriages, stillbirths, but loads of aegon being fond of his babies and giving them dragon eggs. Yes, Aemond married Helaena, and I love every second of that.

***

Four Becomes Five pt. 2

Aegon knew children would be a part of marriage. They are a part of life. They keep the family going, the future bright and the lineage strong. Yet, the thought of having one of his own terrified him. He had no idea how to be a father; his own did nothing to teach or guide him in fatherhood. He saw how his siblings turned out, how he turned out. He worried he might ruin things, and the child became terrible. What if he ends up raising the next Maegor the Cruel? The child could become a deadpan lunatic like Aemond or a spineless worm like his father. Aegon worried his bad habits might influence his children, who then become unloved and scorned by his family. He thought of the possibility of them being deformed, and he’d be the reason they were. He might injure them by accident or teach them the ‘wrong’ things or be too distant or too suffocating or too neglectful or too attentive. Aegon had no idea how to raise a child. He had no desire to have one. Babies are so fragile, noisy and gross. He told you on your wedding night only one baby. You two would only have one. He wouldn’t run the risk of screwing up more than once. 

Until Daella. Nine months following your wedding night, you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. She had his violet eyes and silver blond hair, but your skin tone and nose. Aegon stood outside the birthing room, anxious and needing a drink, when the maester came to tell him the labor ended. He guided Aegon into the room where he saw you sitting up against pillows, body drenched in sweat and hair clinging to your forehead and face. You wore a white garment that was still bloody around your legs, which were still slightly spread. In your arms, you carried a white bundle. Tears of joy slipped down your cheeks as you and Mother stared down at the baby in your arms. The child cried and cried while you tried shushing it. Aegon stayed on the outskirts of the scene, watching from the dark. This was it. He was a father now; no going back or running away. Well, actually, he COULD run, but he didn’t dare. He’d never leave you. He couldn’t even if he tried. You finally noticed him, smiled widely, and beckoned him closer. You knew about his fears of parenthood. 

“Would you like to hold your daughter, Aegon?” you asked him kindly. 

“What if I drop her?” was his first question. 

“You won’t.”

You instructed him on how to hold a newborn, and that’s when it happened. Seeing Daella’s violet eyes blink for a moment, her little body bundled up in a soft blanket, and simply holding her put out those fears. Yes, this felt right. He felt as if he were made for this. He’d screwed up most of the things in his life, and he feared he might mess this up, but dammit…he’d try his best. He rested back in a chair while you recovered, holding Daella and watching her sleep. 

He went to the dragonpit himself and picked out an egg from the incubating chamber. It was a white, sparkling egg with a blue gradient to the bottom. A beautiful egg for his beautiful princess. 

Aegon tried to quit drinking so much. He tried being there more. He tried helping with the baby as much as a man could, but…what if he’s doing too much? What if he should step back? He shouldn’t be all over Daella because she needed to experience things herself, and let her discover it on her own. You’d tell him ‘she’s only a baby, Aegon’, yet he insisted it stood. Daella made it easy by being the happiest baby around. She giggled easily, smiled often, and loved to play with toys and with others. Aegon liked this part the most. He wanted to be a part of it. He enjoyed playing ‘dragons and princesses’ with her; being a ‘guest’ at her tea parties and playing hide and seek in the apartments. 

Then, you and him had drunken sex on Daella’s second nameday. This very steamy, passionate moment resulted in a second pregnancy. That was fine. A second baby is okay. He’s gotten some experience with Daella, so a second would be fine. Right? Yes? It’s not as if he could screw up two different children. 

Saera came after, and what a beauty she was too. She looked like you in his eyes; you said she looked like him. It didn’t matter. Aegon chose a rose gold egg from the chamber that glittered magenta when turned the right way. An egg as enchanting as Saera. Even as a baby, people fawned over her. His grandsire commented that when Saera grew of age, he’d be knee-deep in marriage proposals. This never occurred to Aegon until that moment. He stared down at his daughter, fast asleep in his arms, and realized he’d have to give her to someone. One day, he’d have to marry her off…to a man…who might hurt or mistreat her. No, he’d obviously marry Saera to a brother or cousin or uncle. If she ended up never having a brother, she’d marry Aemond and Helaena’s son, Maelor. He’d have to make sure his brother raises his son right so he’s a good match for Saera. Yes, that makes sense, certainly. 

Daella being three, and Saera having just turned two, you announced you were pregnant for a third time. He’d wracked his brain to recall the time when you reminded him of the morning you both spent ‘taking the air’ in the palace gardens. He was positive he’d pulled out that time, but clearly, not quick enough. Aegon had Daella and Saera now, so a third child should be easy. His mother and father prayed for a Targaryen boy to keep the bloodline going. You said you didn’t care what their sex was; you’d love them regardless, and he felt the same. The third pregnancy came with complications. The maester told him there was a fair chance you might miscarry with all the delicacy of the situation; he felt helpless. This isn’t an enemy he can fight off or an illness that can be cured with a tonic. If the baby miscarried, he could do nothing about it. He could only pray…A thing he never did until the night you’d woken up to a puddle of blood in the bed. While the maester quieted you with milk of the poppy, Aegon went into the royal sept, where he lit a candle to every god. It surprised his mother, who’d come for the same reason that night. He told her he did not know what else to do, and she knelt there with him in silence.

Prayers were answered. On a cool, breezy morning, Baelon Targaryen came into the world. But, the maester told them not to exhale too deeply. Baelon came with many complications: thin, frail, and sickly. They feared he might not make it through the week. Aegon prayed again. He didn’t care if his son became crippled or disfigured from his illness, as long as he lived. The maesters did all they could for Baelon, but they feared he might not make it. Aegon and you both stayed beside his crib every night; you both prayed that The Mother showed mercy and took care of your boy. He feared the moment the baby stopped breathing or became too still. When Helaena told you she’d seen Baelon as a dragon in her dreams, hoping it meant something good, Aegon realized what he must do. He rushed to the dragonpit where one of the she-dragons recently produced a clutch of eggs. Emerald green with flecks of gold, when Aegon held it in his hands, he sensed the power within. He couldn’t explain it, but this dragon would be mighty and so would his son. He came back and placed the egg in Baelon’s cradle. A desperate attempt of a father who’d do anything for his son’s health. 

Finally, one hot night, when the city stunk and sweat stuck his clothes to his skin, young Baelon’s fever broke. His screaming woke up half the castle. Aegon thought there might be something wrong, something hurting the baby, but when the maester came, he suggested the boy nurse at his mother’s teat. You both sobbed together when you realized the worst had passed. Baelon became precocious and wily. He picked up walking faster than either of his sisters, and he liked cuddling with his dragon’s egg. He cried whenever someone tried removing it from him. Baelon was four by the time the egg hatched. ‘Endrys’, a dragon of dark green with golden lines under his scales, joined the other dragons in the dragonpit. The dragonkeepers declared that Endrys bonded with Baelon in the egg, a very, very, very rare thing. Aegon took this to mean his boy would be a strong dragonrider. 

Three children was enough for you both. You each had plenty on your hands. His mother said he might still drink and occasionally stray from his duties, but he’d become a decent father. Not a great one, yet better than his own. Aemond said fatherhood changed him. He didn’t think so. He still drank until he passed out, but only after the children went to bed. He still loved bedding you, though it became less frequent after Baelon’s risky birth. He thought you two might stop at three. Daella was already five, Saera was two and Baelon was one. It was enough. When you and him made love after a heated argument, he swore he’d pull out in time to keep it from going inside you. But, as Aemond said:

“Seems your technique is getting weak, Brother.”

Unfortunately, the child never made it to full term. He’d woken up one morning to find out you’d started your labors too early. You spent hours in complete agony, screaming and crying over the pains bursting in your body. Eventually, the maester withdrew the child. Deformed, pale white, with scales on its body, neither of you could understand the monster you’d birthed. Regardless, you’d named her Rhaella, and your dragon, Moonfyre, burned her body on a funeral pyre. Aegon shared your sadness. He comforted you as best as husband could, while also trying to explain to your children why they didn’t have a sister anymore. You became pregnant two more times in the passing years. One miscarried, and the other was another stillbirth. He guessed the gods were trying to tell him that he had plenty of children already. 

Then Vaelen came. He came slowly and quietly, like a snake sneaking up on prey. Aegon made this analogy because Vaelen rarely cried. He rarely smiled. Aegon joked that he appeared to be ‘in thought’ all the time. He'd placed a matte orange egg with reddish scales in the cradle, though Vaelen paid no mind to it. The quiet baby turned into a reserved, solemn boy who liked listening to stories, going on walks with his mother, and looking at plants. 

In the sitting room after dinner, Aegon sat in his chair by the fire and admired his family from afar. Daella worked quietly on her needlework, which her septa said needed vast improvement. She grumbled to herself, much like you do, and hissed angrily when she’d skewed a stitch. You told her to be patient, relax, and take her time. Saera sat at her feet, making two of her dolls kiss. She said they’d gone on a fantastical journey across the kingdom, fighting monsters and villains, before coming home to get married. He smiled at her imagination, her innocence. Vaelen sat at a table nearby, crushing leaves with a mortar and pestle with a few other ingredients in front of him. When asked, he said he was recreating Maester Orwyle’s soothing salve for burns. He only did this because Baelon returned from the dragonpit, slightly singed with a burn mark on his arm and chest. He’d accidentally come across a hatchling that escaped the warming chamber. When trying to take it back, the hatchling panicked and spewed hot air that burned through Baelon’s clothes. Baelon wasn’t angry with the baby, but the burns it left irritated him. Aegon could tell when his son put up a front, acting as if he wasn’t in so much pain. Still, he rested against you and quietly listened to you read to the room aloud. 

Your belly is the first thing he noticed. Four months into the pregnancy, you already began showing slightly. After that quick one following a reunion dinner with family, he’d somewhat hoped to have another child. Aegon took a swig from his ale mug, smiled softly, and pictured a fifth child sitting amongst the ones he had now. He prayed that the child would come out healthy. He quite enjoyed being a father now. 

He didn’t mind it so much anymore. 

[oliveisme533]

My dad’s neighbor is a dilf

Chapter 5 (last chapter)

Joel Miller x You

Summery: You had decided to spend your summer in Austin with your dad. You used to spend almost every summer there, but hadn't spent a summer there since you were a teenager. Which means you hadn't seen a certain Joel Miller in years..

Warnings: Smuttttttt. Minors dni Sexual content

Joel put his hands by his sides and calmly watched as your chest rose and fell rapidly. You took another generous swig from your bottle and pushed past him back towards the kitchen. Joel didn't try to stop you. He turned and slowly followed you. You were leaning against the counter and almost halfway done with your bottle of wine. Joel walked slowly to you and gently pried the bottle from your hand and set it on the counter. You didn't protest. His other hand found the curve of your waist and his fingers gripped just slightly on your side. "Then how do you want me to see you?" He asked in a voice so low you almost couldn't hear it. You looked up at him through hooded, lust filled eyes. "It seems you already know." You whispered back. You snake one arm around his next and his hand slips further around your waist and pulls you in. You let out a sharp inhale as your body becomes flush with his. "It seems I do." He says with his nose pushing into your jaw as he places a kiss your neck. You arch your back in effort to make your body even closer to his. You moan as the scruff of his beard traces your jawline. "Yeah?" He whispers with a handful of your ass in one hand and the other sliding up your neck. You press your lips to his and almost explode when he moans into the kiss. He pulls away slightly, breathing deeply he says "fuck fuck fuck baby what am I doing." Joel takes a step back from you and massages his temple and groans. "This isn't right, I'm takin advantage of you and this is not what your dad meant when he said to keep an eye on you." You were afraid he might do something like this "Joel please" you say softly. "I'm 25 and im not a fucking kid. I would have gone after you regardless of whether or not you scared off my ex. I've been into you for years at this point." Joel's expression was one of shock and shock you found it kind of cute how clueless he could have been. You laugh "Joel come on ...you really never noticed my hopeless crush?" "Umm honestly sweetheart..no I didn't" "yeah and sometimes when I'm lonely, at night" while you speak you start to lift up your dress ever so slowly. "I touch myself and I pretend it's you." You pull the dress over your head and drop it on the kitchen floor "you wanna watch what that looks like?" Joel was done for "oh baby" he groaned, making his way back to you in 2 quick strides. His hands were in your hair and his lips locked with yours in a heavy kiss. "Are you sure?" He breathed. You locked eyes with him and gave him a clear and resounding "yes!"

Joel hoisted you up in one smooth motion so quickly that you almost didn't realize you weren't standing on your feet anymore. You pressed your lips into his neck, breathing heavily as he walked towards stairs. "You don't even know where my room is creep" you teased Joel pretended to drop you in a motion with his arms in response to that comment. "Hey!" You giggled and wriggled free from his grasp to dash up the stairs. Joel grabbed your hand as the two of you sped up the stairs like a couple of teenagers who were home alone for the first time. You pushed your bedroom door open and let Joel admire for just a moment. "Okay that's enough looking at my room...I'm standing here half naked and you're still in jeans and a t-shirt" you said feeling a bit self conscious. Joel reached back with one hand and tugged off his shirt saying "I'm so sorry baby where are my manners?!" And with that he scooped you up and tossed you on your bed. You sat up before he could climb on top and you wriggled your hands inside his belt buckle. It was hard to do with shaky hands. "Easy easy baby, let daddy help" Joel slowly removed his belt and let it fall to the floor. He held your chin in one hand as he watched you unzip his jeans and complied when you tugged at them signaling it was time for them to come off. As if Joel could read your mind he said "you ain't gotta do anything baby, I'm here for you." You laughed a little, feeling nervous for the first time since this exchange started. Joel picks up on this.

"It's just me, relax." He bends down to kiss you, this time with gentle motions. He climbs on top of the bed whilst simultaneously placing one hand on your lower back and lifting you towards the headboard. You put one hand on his hip and push him away just slightly "um ..it's kinda been a while since.." Joel chuckled "baby I'm not exactly gettin every weekend either." You contemplated whether this next question was appropriate "how long?" You said simply. Joel propped himself up with hands on either side of your head. "Well, my daughter is 12...I'll let you do the math on that one ." You didn't mean for your mouth to fall open. You closed it quickly hoping Joel didn't notice. Joel was a good humored man and laughed genuinely at your response. "You're so fucking cute darlin" he went in for another kiss and this time slipped a hand down to your thighs and began to massage. His lotions became more rough and you found yourself moaning into his kiss. You could feel his boner pressing against your stomach and FUCK he was big. You arched your back to try and get more friction for your aching center. "You need more huh?" Joel said with a voice that was dripping with lust. "Can I move these?" He asked, hooking two fingers under the band of your panties. You nodded vigorously as slid them down. He tapped your thigh and you lifted your hips to help him remove your soaking underwear. "Oh baby. You're not even real. This all for me?" He rubbed the crotch of your underwear under his thumb before tossing it to the side. He licked the wetness from his finger and then put his thumb to work on your clit. The sudden stimulation made you gasp. "Breathe" he coaxed. He dipped two fingers into you and to your delight groaned at his findings. "God baby you are just a mess ain't ya?" All you could do was nod. You felt shy and out of practice and overwhelmed by the fact that you were laying naked underneath Joel fucking miller. Joel pulled back from you and sat up "we ain't gotta do this baby. We can't put our clothes back on and watch a movie. I'll cuddle with ya if your like and we can try this another time...only if you want" "no no I want this and I want to do this with you tonight! I just can't believe it's happening and I don't know how to act." "Baby it's me. I ain't nothin special. Just relax and tell me how you're feelin. Okay? I need to hear you tell me what feels good and what doesn't. " You nod. "Uh uh Use your words darlin" Joel dipped into you with his two middle fingers and watched your face as your lips slowly part. His fingers make the come hither motion. "Yeaaahh" you breath. Joel is intoxicated by you wriggling beneath him with such a look on your face.

"Oh baby you're doin things to me" he comes back in for another deep kiss. "I want you. All of you" you beg. Joel props himself up on one elbow and centers himself before looking up at your face. You nod in consent. Joel slowly pushes into and the noise he lets out is simply pornographic. You've never heard any of these college boys make such a noise while they flop on top of you for 3 minutes. Joel's hips grind into you with the smooth wave of his lower body brushing with yours at every thrust. "How you doin darlin?" Joel asks, taking a pause with his strokes. "Good" you say in a weak voice. He presses a kiss onto your cheek that makes you giggle. Joel doesn't just fuck, he also makes love. He makes sweet, sweet love. The kind that Marvin Gaye would write about. Joel placed one hand lightly on your thigh before continuing his strokes. Without warning he slipped his hand under your thigh and put it over one of his shoulders. "That's it" Joel says as he holds your leg steady with one hand and locks fingers with you with his other hand. God god this man can fuck. His pace increases and your mouth falls open as you say "I'm gonna cum" in a high pitched breath. Joel doesn't need to tell you with words that he's about to finish too. His thrusts become harder, faster and sloppier. His grip on your thigh tightens and his eyebrows knit together as he lets out one final moan and spills himself onto your stomach. "Fuck baby" he breathes before collapsing on top of you. You scratch his head as you both catch your breath. Suddenly he picks his head up to look at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes. "I am so sorry darlin where are my manners?!" He rolls off of you and picks his boxers off the floor before going into your bathroom to get a towel. You hear the faucet running and he returns moments later with a warm rag that he gently uses to clean you up. He tosses the rag in your laundry bin and collapses back onto the bed. He taps the inside of your thigh twice "go pee" "yeah yeah I'm getting up"

You and Joel take a cramped but sweet shower together and he puts new sheets on while you comb your hair. "Aw you didn't have to do that." Joel shakes his head. "Yeah I did. I don't like sleeping in sheets that smell like sex" "But now my bed won't smell like you.." Joel just smirks "you really think I'm going to leave you here all by your lonesome?" He holds out one arm "cmon baby let's go to bed" you didn't need to be told twice!

[ficnation]

Chapter 2: The Guilt She Bears

Series: “She” Word count: 2,5k+ Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female! Reader; Past! Angel Reyes x Luisa Espina Warnings: SPOILERS for Mayans MC season 5 episode 7, mayans mc typical warnings A/n: I’m starting to enjoy all of this angst muahaha

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A few days have passed since Luisa’s death. Angel tries to return to the life he once knew, but it isn’t easy. He tries not to think about Luisa, but the apartment they once shared reminds him of her every second of the day. Every moment he spends there makes it harder not to reach for a bottle of cheap whiskey and the company of another woman.

One day he shows up at your doors, hastily packed bags in his hands as he supports Maverick’s bottom with one muscular arm. Angel’s fist shakes as he raises it to knock on your door. The sound echoes in his ears. He wonders if you’re even home, he forgot to text you before getting in the car, but something in his heart tells him you will be there. You’re always close when he needs you.

As Angel waits, staring intently at the door, each minute feels like an hour. The weight of worry and anticipation seems to become physically tangible. Finally, his impatience wins, and the man reaches for the doorknob, but the door is slowly pushed open from inside before he can make contact.

The door opens just an inch so you can peer out at the intruder with a grimace. You look exhausted, your hair is all over the place, and your eyes tell him you haven’t slept in a while. You give the impression of someone who has been through hell and is struggling to survive. On top of all that, you seem stressed and worn out, ready to give in at any moment. Angel knows he doesn’t look much better, but seeing you like that still worries him.

The grimace falls from your face when you recognize him, and you open the door wider. You see the bags he’s holding in his hands as he stands before you, your expression turning into one of pure confusion.

“Angel? What are you doing here?” you ask him with a raspy voice. You notice Maverick in his other arm. The baby looks just as tired as his father, his big brown eyes drooping sleepily.

“Please, can I come in?” His voice is pleading even though he knows you’d never refuse him that.

You nod, stepping back out of the way to let him in. He can feel your eyes studying him intently as he walks inside. You watch his every move, every breath, and every blink.

“What’s going on?” You grab Maverick from his arms, holding him against your chest as you kiss the crown of his head softly.

Angel heads over to the couch and sets his bags next to it, letting himself fall onto the furniture heavily. He ignores your question for now, and you refrain from asking again, focusing instead on the child in your hold.

“Is he okay? Does he feel better?” you question, observing the little boy. He’s so quiet and tired. You wonder if he can’t sleep without his mommy, if he can sense her absence in his life.

“He’s okay. Just doesn’t sleep well lately,” your friend explains with a deep sigh.

“Oh… poor baby,” you say to Maverick, caressing his soft hair. The child presses his face into the crook of your neck, grabbing your shirt in his tiny fists. You turn your gaze back toward Angel. “What’s in all those bags?”

He doesn’t respond to that question, instead cutting right to the point. “I can’t be there anymore. Everything reminds me of her,” the man confesses, his eyes pleading.

You pause, trying to understand what he’s asking. “You want to... live here?” you finally say, your expression conveying your confusion. It’s not something you had anticipated. It hasn’t even crossed your mind.

Angel nods, shamefully hanging his head. “Please, it’s either you or my dad.”

You bite your bottom lip, noticing how abashed he is to ask you this. Angel has always been so strong and independent that you never expected him to need you this much. Even when he was at his worst, drinking himself into oblivion, he has never turned up to your door asking for a place to stay. Not even once. He was always the one making sure you were alright. But you know the circumstances are different this time.

“Angel,” you begin, and the man sitting on your couch prepares for you to say no. “You know that you’re always welcome here.”

He sighs in relief, some of the tension disappearing from his muscles as he slumps down against the couch. He thanks you wordlessly with an appreciative nod of his head.

“What about your dad?” you inquire, meeting his tired brown eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to live with him, but he’s old, you know. He needs his sleep and I don’t wanna be a burden,” your friend explains. “Not that I’m not gonna be a burden to you but—”

You cut him off before he can doubt himself even more and try to explain something that doesn’t need to be explained. “No, no, Angel, you’re not a burden. Trust me,” you reassure him, “you and Maverick are more than welcome here.”

You know their company might help you too. You have been lonely lately more than ever. The nights seemed too long and restless as you kept overthinking every little thing—the guilt swallowing your whole being, drowning you in its darkness. You kept thinking day and night—what could you’ve done to save Luisa, what could you’ve done to take her place and die that night instead of her.

“I’m not sure where I’ll be in a few months. My lease is almost up. But for right now, and as long as you need it to be, my home is your home.” You look down at Maverick, who’s fallen asleep in your arms, the corner of your lips arching as you kiss his head softly.

A faint smile crosses Angel’s face as he watches the two of you together. It’s painful to know his mommy will never hold him like that again—will never kiss him like that again, but he cherishes the fact that at least you’re there for him and his son. You bring them the comfort—the love they need so desperately right now.

“I have a spare room.” Your voice breaks through Angel’s thoughts. His eyes follow you as you step toward the archway and nod your head in the direction of one of the doors across the corridor.

You can feel the nervousness radiating off him when he follows you. He’s uneasy at the prospect of crashing here, at your house. It’s not like he hasn’t been here before—he has—many times, sometimes with Luisa or Maverick and other times by himself, but he’s never spent the night.

“I don’t have a crib, but we can arrange something. Get the one from your house or get a new one,” you offer, opening the wooden door and stepping inside. You make a gesture with your hand to bring Angel’s attention to the room.

He looks around curiously. The room isn’t too fancy, but it’s cozy and bright. There’s a bed, a small dresser, and other minor furniture. The walls are a light blue color, with a few clouds painted onto them to give the feel of a dreamlike peace. You can tell that Angel likes it by the way he takes it all in with sparkling eyes, the corner of his mouth curving up.

“I can bring it. I planned on that,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I knew you wouldn’t have those stuff.” He sets the bags down by the wall, the tips of his fingers trailing over one of the painted-on clouds.

Maverick fusses in his sleep, still cuddled up to your body. You hum softly, caressing his back. “He’s finally getting some good sleep,” you whisper, a smile crossing your face.

“He feels safe with you.”

Angel’s words are simple, but nevertheless, they stir something inside your heart. Something you’ve buried deep within a long time ago.

The two of you remain silent for a few more minutes. You take in the fact that your friend will be living with you, sharing your space—your mornings, evenings, and nights. The thought of it makes you feel peaceful in a way you haven’t felt before.

“We can take out the mattress from the bed frame and place it in the corner of the room,” you propose, making Angel look at you confused. You roll your eyes at him. “So Maverick doesn’t roll off the bed,” you explain further.

“Yeah, that’s smart,” he agrees, nodding his head at your idea. It feels like his mind is somewhere else.

Your eyes soften, and you giggle softly as the realization hits you. Angel’s head is in the clouds, almost literally. “Well, my hands are kinda busy, so you have to figure it out yourself.”

It takes your words a minute to reach the man. He shakes his head and looks at you, confused. You repeat the sentence, and Angel chuckles softly—the tension relieved by a bit of humor. Just like when you first met him, your heart can’t help but soften at the sight of his smile.

“Oh, you’re funny. Just wait until I’m holding Maverick,” he says, moving past you toward the bed.

He kneels down in front of it and tries to lift it up without success. You notice his struggle and almost let out a very unladylike snort, but you catch it at the last second, not wanting to wake the baby in your arms. Angel doesn’t look like he wants to ask you for help—his manly pride is not allowing it in this matter.

Knowing fully well he won’t be able to figure it out on his own—you decide to save him the embarrassment. “It’s attached to the bed frame. You have to reach underneath and pull the elastic loose,” you guide him, amusement in your eyes.

Angel listens to your instructions and reaches under the bed. He feels out the elastic and begins to pull at it. It takes some effort, but he’s successful in freeing the mattress. He straightens up and lifts it off the bed frame, placing it in the corner of the room.

His brown eyes look down at his little son, cuddled up in your arms. “He looks comfy,” he says softly. “He’s still asleep?”

You walk up to the mattress and place Maverick in the middle, the mattress barely dipping beneath his weight. “Sleeps like a rock. Just like his daddy.”

“So small,” Angel whispers quietly, his eyes glued to the boy’s tiny body—to his clenched fists and his small chest, rising with every steady breath, to his round pink cheeks and the little waves of his hair. His little miracle.

You look back at your friend, tears prickling in your eyes. You know you can both see so much of her in Maverick. The resemblance to his mommy was painfully evident. It was hard for both of you to look at his innocent face and be reminded of what you’ve lost.

Angel notices the tears threatening to escape your eyes. He feels responsible, knowing his presence has indirectly brought you to tears. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes in a whisper, his hand reaching out to gently caress your arm.

“No, I’m sorry. I know you’re hurting just as much as I do.” You wipe your tears away with the sleeve of your shirt. You stand straight, stepping out of Angel’s reach and nodding at him in appreciation.

“Do you want to get some rest? You look like hell,” you say, glancing at him.

He still hasn’t taken his kutte off; he looks exhausted and worn down. But he still refuses with a shake of his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

You know it’s a lie, but you don’t push.

“Come on, I will make us some tea.”

You walk into the kitchen, Angel rubbing his temples in an attempt to relieve the headache he caused himself by the lack of sleep and food. You take out two mugs from one of the cupboards above as your friend moves to lean on the counter beside you.

“How are you holding up?” He can easily guess the answer to this question, but he still lets it slip out of his mouth, concern in his voice.

You’ve known Luisa for years; you’ve known her before Angel has even joined her world. The lack of her quiet presence in your life is devastating—sometimes, it just makes you want to blow your brains out. But you know you wouldn’t be able to do that—not when you had people who still loved you and needed you there. And you know Angel is one of them; he cares about you probably more than he cares about himself. The two of you have grown much closer after Luisa’s death. In the span of those few days, you became each other’s lifelines.

“Just getting through, I guess... I miss her a lot.” You let out a deep sigh. “How are you holding up?”

“It’s been hard. Especially—” Angel pauses; he hesitates, unsure if it’s something he should share with anyone. He clears his throat, his voice breaking slightly. “Seeing him… It’s a constant reminder.”

You sense the pain in his words, the struggles he goes through every day. It kills you to hear it. You squeeze his hand in yours for a second, wordlessly showing him your support.

You can tell the conversation took its toll on Angel. He remains nearby, not wanting to leave your side. You fill the kettle and place it on the stove, turning around to lean against the counter next to your friend.

“I miss her,” the man admits; he wraps his tattooed arms around himself. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. I thought I was just dreaming.”

“It’s tough,” you nod in understanding.

“I always knew someday we would have to say goodbye. I always knew that,” Angel continues, his eyes gazing off into the distance. “But I didn’t think it would be so soon.”

He turns his attention to you. You can see that there are so many things he wants to get off his chest, but he doesn’t know where to start. You reach for his hand to hold it in yours, to comfort him. You wish you had the ability to make it all better, but there’s not much you can offer him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles out, his voice so shy and quiet you can barely hear him. “I’m sorry that you have to be here for me when I’m like this.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Angel.” You squeeze his hand to make him look you in the eyes. “I want to be there for you.”

You watch as his eyes fill with so much love and gratitude. He looks like he wants to pull you close, hold you in his arms, and cry it all out. But he fights it, trying his best to stay afloat.

“I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“You’d be miserable by yourself. Now, at least you have some company,” you joke, trying to change the topic. It was starting to be too much; you could feel the darkness of guilt crawling up the walls of your brain. You couldn’t save her. You did nothing to save her.

[storiesbyrhi]

Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 5: Buzzkill

Eddie Munson x Chubby & Inexperienced!Reader 5879 words A sneak peek at what to expect from this fic here

Previous Chapters: 1 - Valium; 2 - Carrie; 3: Honey; 4: Starcourt

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault (chapter 2); disordered eating and thoughts of food; shitty/abusive/critical parents; porn magazines; mild smut; no beta; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Chapter Summary: Time to face the fallout of the night before, and to step boldly (and topless) into the next phase of your relationship with Eddie.

There wasn’t anything graceful about the way you had fallen asleep in Eddie’s arms. The exhaustion had knocked you out, turning you into dead weight. Eddie had carefully slipped you onto the mattress and tucked you in.

He wasn’t anywhere near close to tired. The anger was simmering inside him, no healthy avenue for escape. While you slept, he got stoned out of his mind. After he ate an entire tub of ice cream and two packets of chips, he threw up just off the porch while he tried to smoke a cigarette.

In the small bathroom, he looked at his reflection. How lines and shapes wouldn’t settle. How he looked like he’d been dragged through hell. He fucking hated your parents. You’d been so happy on the weekend. And, on Monday he heard you telling the freshmen about Build-a-Bear, about how when Suzie came to visit Dustin, or Mike to El, they should have a date there. “I don’t know if it’s something Max would be into,” you’d told Lucas apologetically.

You’d been sunshine smiles and free flowing kisses and happy.

Fuck your parents for taking that. So, yeah, he hated them.

Eddie usually avoided the feeling of hate. It would be too easy to become bitter and sad if he let hate in. His mum. Dad. Half the fucking town. No, Eddie Munson didn’t hate. But he seethed with the feeling whenever he thought about your parents.

Eddie brushed his teeth, the minty toothpaste making him feel sick again, so he resigned to an early night, laying down next to you and watching your chest rise and fall. The only thing quelling the hate, keeping it mute, was the love he had for you.

Eddie focused on that until his eyelids grew heavy and sleep finally took him.

The next morning, Eddie waited for you to talk about what had happened or acknowledge the fact that you’d slept over, but you didn’t. You simply got up, dressed and made toast for the both of you.

“Come on, we’ll be late,” you urged when Eddie was taking his sweet time looking for his second Reebok, half-assing it at best.

The drive to school was quiet, silence eaten up by The Cure. You could tell Eddie was on edge, one of his ringed fingers tapping on the steering wheel nervously. There was nothing to say, you thought. He knew what had happened and let you crash the night. After school, you’d go back home to your parents and the cycle would inevitably repeat again. That’s just how it was.

“I love you,” Eddie said when you took a step away from him at your locker after a kiss that felt like it was saying something Eddie wouldn’t dare to.

“I love you too,” you replied with a small nod.

“You sure you’re… okay?”

“I’m fine. Really. It’s… whatever. I’m fine.” It was easy to see your best attempt at convincing had fallen flat.

Eddie watched the clock all day.

Eddie had never, not once in his life, wanted a day at Hawkins High to go slowly, but every minute that went by brought him closer to the moment he’d have to let you go home. His stomach flipped when the final bell rang.

“It will be better this way,” you said as you headed to the bus. “If they don’t see me get off it, they know you dropped me home. Even if they don’t see you,”

“Yeah, I get it. But I don’t have to like it,” he said, truly pouting. You kissed again, ignoring the wolf whistles and fake sick sounds from the line of students getting on the bus.

“One more day. Then it’s the weekend.”

As you parted from him and climbed the bus steps, Eddie moved to lean against the bike racks lined up near the sidewalk. He watched you take a seat close to the driver. He’d always been a back seat kind of guy, but you knew there was safety near the adult in charge. Also, the least amount of teenagers you had to walk by on shaky ground, the better.

The bus departed and disappeared from view. Eddie sat on the curb in the orange afternoon glow, lit a cigarette, and thought of you.

…

The cool metal of your locker door felt good against Eddie’s cheek. He pressed into it, eyes closed, leaning against the wall for support. He was hungover, felt both tired and overslept. Someone threw something at him, “Freak,” a ball of paper at a guess, but Eddie’s eyes stayed closed.

After he’d put you on the bus home, he’d made his way back to his trailer and got blackout drunk. It was an effort to arrive at school Friday with enough time to see you in the morning. But there he was.

The bell rang for homeroom and you’d not shown up. The hallways cleared of students, but Eddie remained. He sunk to the floor and waited until fifteen minutes of the first period had gone by before making his way to class. He decided that if he hadn’t seen you by lunch, he’d leave to go look for you.

As Eddie launched himself from his chair, he stacked it, landing hard on the ground of his Biology class. He was too laser focused on leaving to care that everyone laughed, Jason calling out some bullshit as Eddie was off in the direction of the cafeteria.

“Thank FUCK!” Eddie’s loud voice drew the attention of the entire room. Eddie cleared his throat, made a weird saluting gesture to everyone, then quickly jogged to the Hellfire table.

“Angel,”

“Hey,” you greeted.

Eddie was grabbing you by the arms, fingers digging in, pulling you up into a tight hug. It was too tight, you felt trapped and hot, but you also felt loved. Needed. Wanted. Missed. Worshipped.

“Where’ve you been?” Eddie asked, face pressed into your hair.

“What? Here?”

“You weren’t at your locker,”

“Yeah. I had to go hand in my Classics thing,” you said.

Fuck. He’d forgotten. You had an essay on character development or lack thereof in The Odyssey. Eddie had listened to you explain that Telemachus, son of Odysseus, was the only person in the story to really change and grow because of what he went through.

“Right, fuck. Yeah. Sorry,”

“S’okay. Are you okay?”

There were shadows under his eyes and knots in his curls that weren’t normally there. You reached out for his hair, brushing it through with your fingers. Eddie dragged his chair closer to you and let you fix him.

“Yeah, just…” His usual wit and fox-clever timing were clouded by the night before.

“Hungover?” you guessed.

Eddie looked guilty, but you weren’t angry. Firstly, you were worried. Secondly, you were confused. But it wasn’t the time or the place. You continued to detangle his hair, running your nails across his scalp to elicit shivers from him. Eddie hummed happily.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” you said quietly. Eddie nodded and leaned into your touch even more.

Eddie had told you before, on multiple occasions, that the Hellfire boys looked out for each other. Sometimes it was big and obvious, like standing up to a bully or covering for them to a teacher. Sometimes, like it was that day, it was small kindness.

It was all the guys seeing something was off, pretending that they weren’t that hungry and had other places to be. It was a pile of food left for Eddie because he was clearly too much of a mess to bring anything to eat. It was you and him being left alone at the table to care for each other in silence and love. You had to hand it to Eddie, he sure did know how to curate a group of special lost sheep.

After school, you climbed into the passenger seat of Eddie’s van and waited for him. When you spotted him walking across the parking lot, Jeff at his side, you smiled to yourself. They came to your window, which you had wound down.

“Hey angel,” Eddie greeted, leaning in to kiss you. “Gonna give Jeff a lift over to Family Video, then we can go home, ‘kay?”

You nodded and moved to climb into the back.

“Ah, no, angels in the front. Jeffs in the back. Those are the rules,” Eddie said, sliding the back door open and pushing Jeff in.

“Sorry,” you said, turning in your seat and looking over at your friend.

Jeff shrugged, then held his hand out flat at his head level. “You,” he said, then lowered his hand a bit. “The band.” Lower. “Hellfire.” Lower. “Everything else,”

“You forgot Wayne,” you told him. “He’d be top of the pyramid.”

Jeff made a ‘mmmmm’ sound that meant ‘I don’t know about that.’

Eddie had rounded the van and jumped into the driver’s seat. It wasn’t far to Family Video, but it took longer because you had to listen to the two guitarists say phrases like “did you see how he pulled the G string with his teeth?” “yeah, but he’s fingering is too fast, I lose it every time,” “I need you to get dirtier though,” and “the dude said I need to have a better relationship with my wang bar,” without laughing.

As Eddie pulled up, you were chewing a fingernail trying to keep it in. He looked across at you. “What’s… this?” he asked and vaguely motioned to all of you.

“Wang bar,” you whispered.

Eddie’s face broke out into an ear-to-ear grin. “Mind out of the gutter! Just another name for the whammy bar.”

You giggled stupidly as Jeff got out of the van and waved goodbye. As soon as he was out of earshot, Eddie informed you that he was meeting a girl to pick out movies.

“Jeff has a date?!”

“Sounds like it. Said she’s moved in across the road from him,”

“I should tell him about Build-a-Bear,” you said, trying to see if you could spot Jeff and the mystery girl inside Family Video as Eddie pulled out onto the road.

Eddie bit back a smile. “So, are we doing a covert drop off, or can I steal you until curfew?”

“Actually… I have a surprise. My parents had to go to Indianapolis today, because Dad’s brother got put in hospital with kidney stones last night. And there’s nobody to go feed his dog and let him out the apartment. Well, there’s his ex-wife but she hates him because he’s, like, well he’s just like Dad, so. But yeah, she wouldn’t do it. So, they went today, but now my uncle isn’t getting out until Monday, so they have to go take him stuff and stay over. They won’t be home until tomorrow.”

It was probably too much information, but you were excited.

“I didn’t know you had an uncle,” Eddie said.

Not the reaction you expected. “I never see him because he lives in the city and he’s an asshole. Not even Dad likes him,”

“Kidney stones, huh? Heard that’s meant to be real painful.”

Still not the reaction you were looking for. “He has to try to pee them out,”

“Fuuuck… And, uhhh, what kind of dog is it?”

“Eddie!” you yelled, immediately getting laughter from him. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?” he asked innocently. You huffed, frowned, and crossed your arms across your chest. “Okay, okay. Sorry. So what you’re telling me is that there is no curfew? That I can keep you all to myself all night?”

“Ah-huh,”

“Well, fuck, angel. Why didn’t you just say so?!”

When you made a frustrated, high-pitched sound, Eddie laughed even harder.

In his trailer, Eddie found a note from Wayne saying he went to get dinner with a mate before his shift at the plant. ‘Frozen pizzas are defrosting in the sink. Salad pack’s in the fridge. Need to get ya shit together Ed. Eat some vegetables. – W’

You re-read it a few times. “What’s he mean?” you called out to Eddie, who had disappeared into his bedroom. “Is this about last night? He doesn’t normally give you shit so easy, does he?” You walked the hall and stood in Eddie’s doorway, leaning against the frame.

Eddie was changing into sweatpants and a clean t-shirt. “Um, no. He’s just… worried.”

You nodded and sat on the bed, taking your shoes off and moving to sit on the pillows against the wall. “You’re hungover,” you stated.

Eddie pretended to look for something, moving from drawer to drawer. “Not anymore,”

“You don’t drink on school nights,”

“Uh, yeah, no. Not normally,” he agreed, sitting on the carpeted floor and pulling things from under his bed, only to push them back into the dark.

“Was it because of me?” you asked, voice quiet.

Eddie stopped, looked up at you. “No, baby. S’not your fault,” he said firmly, getting up and joining you on the bed. He sat next to you, took your hand as you rested your head on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about Wayne. I’m normally good at… pacing myself. Two nights in a row is a Munson red flag,”

“Two nights? But I was here Wednesday,”

“Yeah. You were asleep and I was… Pissed off. Not at you! At your parents. The world. Whatever. I got a bit too high. Chucked outside. Would have got away with it, but that fuckin’ park dog was eating it when Wayne got home.”

You whined, screwed up your face. “That’s… really fucking gross.”

Eddie grinned. “Yeah… yeah, it is,”

“And last night?”

Eddie was too introspective and it fucked him up a little bit sometimes. Most of the time, it was a good thing. Emotional intelligence is a surprisingly useful quality in a drug dealer. It meant, however, that he knew why he opened a bottle of cheap beer and didn’t stop. It meant he had to be honest with you.

“I was still angry, but I got… sad. I got home an’ couldn’t focus on anything. I was thinking about you going home to them. About if you were gonna get grilled about where you’d spent the night. About what they would be sayin’ about me… About what you deserve. I was just… sad. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You’d begun to cry, the tears silently drawing wet lines down your face. “I’m sorry,”

“No, angel,” Eddie said softly. “You don’t have to say shit. It’s not your fault. I’m fine. I’m okay. Like I said, just something Wayne picks up on.”

There were a lot of things you were thinking and feeling, but it was all a mess inside your head and you didn’t know how to stop them moving around long enough to grasp onto. You just held Eddie’s hand tighter.

“Was it bad? With your parents?” Eddie asked, unable to live with not knowing any longer.

“I… Um, I don’t really know? It wasn’t like on Wednesday. I think… maybe because that was bad they didn’t want to, like, repeat it. Dad ignored me when I got home. He pretty much won’t look at me now. He said some stuff at dinner.”

Specifically, he had said that perhaps it was good that you had put on weight, that you would fit in with the other trailer park women. Except, he didn’t use the word women.

“What about your mum?”

She had said you smelt dirty.

“About the same. It’s… It’s like, stupid, because I’m not doing anything bad. Like, what would they do if I was a bad kid, you know?”

Eddie nodded. “I know. It’s fucked,”

“I think they were…” You almost said what you hadn’t even let yourself acknowledge in thought. The tears were hot and salty, burning your eyes. You sniffed, trying to pull the snot back up into your nose. If you just said it, maybe it wouldn’t feel so bad. “I think Dad was so close… to… you know…”

Eddie was shaking, but your own efforts to stop yourself from crying made you oblivious. If you wanted to say it, he’d let you, but it was excruciating to hear.

“Hitting me... that he freaked himself out. I don’t know,” you finished.

Eddie was quiet for a moment, then pulled you onto his lap, curled his arms around you, and held you close. Weirdly, you did feel better after verbalising it. You controlled the crying and slowly started to breathe easier.

“Surprised you’re not banned from seeing me.”

You chewed your lip and played with Eddie’s pick necklace. “What… What do we do if that happens?”

Eddie didn’t let himself think about it. “Dunno. Don’t need to worry about shit that hasn’t happened yet, okay? What we need to worry about is if you’re too chicken to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

Your head shot up and you looked at Eddie outraged. “I am not chicken!”

…

When your parents returned from Indianapolis, you avoided them. They argued about the money they had spent on the hotel room. Your father blamed your mother, said she was too much of a control freak to stay in the same house as a dog. Your mother blamed your father, it was his brother they were there for after all.

Neither of them told you how your uncle was, not that you cared. You read about kidney stones in a medical book while Eddie completed a practice test. You kept time and walked around the school library, bored. The book told you they were indeed painful, and part of you hoped your uncles were hard to pass. There was a small spark of joy when reading that there was a genetic component; maybe your father would get them too.

The days of avoiding your parents turned to a couple of weeks. The quietness wasn’t a comforting one, though. It felt like the calm before the storm. Something wicked this way comes. You took your wins where you could. And the fact that you were supremely distracted by all things Eddie was one of those wins.

Eddie’s hold on your body was like a vice grip. His kisses were deep; sometimes it felt like he was trying to map your mouth with his tongue. The way he held your hand was needy. It was all adding up to a feeling you knew he had. An insurmountable desire. A carnal need.

The only thing that rivalled Eddie’s want was yours.

It wasn’t enough anymore. It didn’t matter how long you made out for, how many bruises he left just under your collar, you were never satisfied. When kisses ended and you stared at each other, breathless and shaky, you knew what the other was thinking.

Eddie was all caught up in his head about it. He wanted to ask clearly and specifically if you wanted more. To go further. But he didn’t want to ruin the fun of spontaneity. He didn’t want to be presumptuous. He didn’t want you to feel pressured.  

Of course, you knew he was navigating the minefield of you and your body. Despite trusting Eddie, you couldn’t muster the courage needed to just tell him yes. Yes, you were ready to take off a few more layers. Yes, you wanted him to explore. Yes to further.

The best you could do was make vague comments about things with the hope Eddie would play along.

“I don’t think other girls have snail trails.”

Eddie was starfished on his bed. At your sentence, he sat up and watched you as you stood in front of his mirror, lifting your shirt to examine your belly.

“Can I see?” he asked.

You moved next to the bed. Eddie slid to the edge and held your hips, pulling you to stand between his legs. He pushed your shirt up and smiled at the dark but sparse hairs that went from your belly button downwards, disappearing into the top hem of your pyjama pants.

“See?”

“I see… a very cute tummy,” Eddie said, looking up at you. God, that look burned. He grinned, a cat with its cream, then softly kissed your stomach a few slow times. “And I see your snail trail, and I think it does what it’s meant to,”

“What do you mean? What’s it meant to do?”

Eddie shrugged. “Like how eyebrows keep sweat from rollin’ into your eyes,”

“What? Is that even true?” you asked. Eddie was fifty percent weird but true facts, fifty percent eloquent bullshit.

“Yeah. And eyelashes are to stop shit getting in your eyes. Everything’s doin’ something,”

“Okay… so what do snail trails do?”

“Obviously,” he started, rolling his head around dramatically. “They’re a trail to follow. Breadcrumbs, you know?” Eddie’s fingers slowly began to twitch around your hips. “A pathway to heaven, baby girl.”

Before you could stop him, he’d caught you in an attack of tickles, pulling you onto the bed with him. You squealed with laughter. Yelling, “Never call me that again!”

“S’not sexy?” Eddie asked, pausing the attack but not moving from where he had you pinned. You shook your head, a firm no. “Whaaaat about… Sweet cheeks?”

“Absolutely not,”

“Hot stuff?”

“No,”

“Foxy lady?”

You pulled a face. Eddie continued, finding more pet names to amuse and disgust you. Every couple of entries to the list, you gave him an ‘eh maybe’ shrug.

“So, we’re sticking with angel then?”

“Yes, please,” you answered sugar sweet.

“Alright… And, ah, as for your snail trail,” Eddie said, letting himself fall to lay beside you. “Other girls do have ‘em.” He moved to rest his head on your stomach, close enough to follow the trail and leave kisses as he went.

“How do you know? Girls in magazines don’t.”

Eddie considered his options. He could pull out some dirty magazines and show you that, in fact, some women do have snail trails. Alternatively, he could admit that in his limited but no less valid experience, women in the real world do too. Either way, you needed proof.

“Maybe not in yours. But… in mine…” Eddie offered.

You propped yourself up and looked at him. “Show me,” you demanded.

“Promise not to judge? Can’t call me a pervert or anything,” he said as he rolled off the bed and went digging under it.

You sat up and bounced with excitement. Eddie shot you a look. “Yeah, I promise. Of course,” you said quickly.

As soon as he produced a couple, you were greedily flipping through the pages. Some of the women were the stereotypical ideal of what a woman should be. Most of the women, however, were not. Apparently, Eddie looked for diversity in his porn.

“See?” he said smugly.

It was the inception of the idea that maybe there was nothing unique about your body. Maybe you were just like all the women that had come before you and would exist after you. It was an entirely comforting thought, borderline revolutionary.

“You wanna see my favourite?” Eddie asked.

It hadn’t even really occurred to you to look at the sex of it all. That’s what the magazine was selling, after all. The women were posed, promising something through the lens of the camera that could never be delivered.

These magazines were Eddie’s. They weren’t casual reading. The thought of how he used them made you feel unsteady. But, there he was, willing to be honest with you. Yet again inviting you into another part of his world with no expectation on your part.

When you nodded, Eddie flipped through a couple of pages, leaving it open on a double-page spread of a woman with a body not entirely unlike yours. She was proportioned in a way you felt made her more beautiful than you, but Eddie would argue that point if you let him.

Although she was naked, she’d been styled to look like a 50s pinup girl. A curled fringe and plastic tiger ears sat on her head. Obscenely red lips. Her long red nails were drawing attention to the shiny stretch marks that cut across her thighs and stomach.

“I have those…” you said, the thought coming from your mouth before you’d even registered it in your mind. “Only on my legs though.”

Eddie said nothing, but his lips curved into a smile as he watched you try to comprehend the fact that your body was normal. Another truth, one harder to digest, but maybe your body was desirable.

As Eddie stood up to flip the cassette in his tape deck around, you swapped magazines and continued your education.

“Should I be jealous?”

His voice made you jump. He’d leaned over and whispered in your ear, laughing when you squeaked.

“Eddie!”

He was still laughing as he climbed onto the bed, taking the magazine from you and pushing them all away. You let him do it, then followed him to lay down, head on the pillows.

“You don’t need to be jealous,” you told him.

Eddie reached out and held your face in his hand, running his thumb along your bottom lip. You opened your mouth and took his thumb between your teeth.

“No? Just me then?”

You nodded, closing your lips around his thumb and sucking. Eddie’s pupils blew out, darkening his already deep brown eyes. When you let go of him, he quickly replaced his hand with his mouth, kissing you and pulling you into him.

“Can I… Ah, would it be okay if… Your shirt.” You’d never heard Eddie that breathless, an almost whiny note to his voice. It did things to you, caught you between wanting to tease him sweetly and drag it out, and give in and let him do anything he wanted to you.

“Yeah, and yours,” you answered.

Eddie’s skin felt hot against yours.

“Do you want to, to keep that on or, ah…?” he asked. Eddie’s fingers were hooked under the straps of your bra.

On a breath out, you told him, “Off. You can take it off,”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yep.”

Eddie was gentle, letting you shimmy out of your bra. He kissed the lines it had left along your shoulders, checking on you as he wriggled lower. Your eyes had closed, tongue poking out from between your lips in anticipation. Eddie smiled as he kissed along your neck and down past the point where you used to spend time wishing visible collarbones would appear.

“Good?” he checked.

“Yeah.”

The kisses turned into a feeling you didn’t recognise. He was sucking, which in theory sounded strange but in practice felt good. When he licked along your nipple, then blew onto it, the cold made you shiver and the feeling made you whimper a little. The sound went through Eddie like a lightning bolt.

“I love you so fucking much,” he said into your chest, the words tickling against your skin. “I wanna… wanna touch you and make you feel good and… fuck.”

Eddie was unravelling and you loved it, laughing at his neediness. The happy sound just spurred him on. He kissed up and down your arms, across your chest, and licked a wet line down your snail trail, stopping at the waistband.

“Fuck,” he said again, pressing his forehead against your belly and stopping himself from doing anything more.

“Hi,” you cooed as he joined you back up on the pillows.

“Hi. Sorry. I, ah-”

“Don’t say sorry,”

“Okay, but, um, we should… Ah… I should ask you…” The fact that you didn’t know what exactly he was saying was evidence enough that he definitely did need to slow down and talk. Eddie studied your open expression. “This is the… most you’ve… done.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded. “Yeah,”

“Right, so I just want to make sure you’re good. That’s everything’s good,”

“Everything’s good, Eddie,” you whisper, smiling, still not quite on the same page as him.

“Okay… Okay, but, um, I don’t know if it matters… But, um, it feels like I should tell you that it’s not, like, that for me.”

Eddie watched your smile drop as your expression went completely neutral. A painful second then two ticked by.

“You mean, like, everything?” you asked. Eddie nodded. It hurt, but the hurt quickly turned to guilt because you didn’t want to be like that, didn’t want to care.

“It’s not been like this though. Nobody’s like you… Do you want me to tell you about ‘em?”

“Them? More than one?”

“Angel,” Eddie said, his voice low and soothing. He pulled you close and kissed you hard. “I’ve never loved someone before. Never wanted someone like I want you. I promise. I fuckin’ swear on Ozzy and Ronnie and… on Wayne. I love you,”

“I know. It’s okay. I’m okay,” you said, annoyed that Eddie could tell you were upset.

“Lemme tell you. Seriously. You’ll get it then,” he swore. You nodded. “First time was last year. I was at a show in Louisville. Made some friends and went back to someone’s house. We were all drunk and I ended up in some girl’s bed. I was… terrible, but she was nice about it and that was that,”

“Was it her first time?” you asked. Eddie shook his head no. “Did you, like, stay in contact?”

“No. She was, ah, like, twenty-one, two, maybe? She got pissed when I told her how old I was, which is fair, but it wasn’t like either of us talked much before, so… Yeah…” Eddie shrugged like the memory held no emotion. Honestly, it didn’t really.

It made more sense to you why Eddie wanted you to feel special. Why he was concerned with communication.

“That was in… March, maybe? Then in the Fall, I met this girl who was visiting family. Like, in Hawkins. She was here for a week over Halloween. We hung out a couple times. Messed around, you know?”

There were so many questions you wanted to ask, but you wanted Eddie to think you were totally chill. Wanting to know everything was probably weird, right?

“Okay,” you said.

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, lifted his chin a little – two tells that he was suspicious. “Just okay? You don’t want to, like, ask anything?” You shook your head. “It’s okay if you do. If it were you, I’d be going crazy. I’d need every detail.”

You bit your lip and gave in. “Was it her first time?”

“Nah. She had just broken up with her boyfriend… I was probably her rebellious rebound thing,”

“How many times did you… have sex,”

“Like, sex sex? Um… three. Yeah, three…” Eddie could see your mind going a hundred miles an hour. “Her name was Eve. We didn’t have much in common, except being bored. And, uh, we didn’t swap numbers or anythin’ like that.”

Eddie was right. It did help to know. Your mind would have filled in the blanks with stories vastly different from the truth.

“Believe me, it’s never been like this. Just this, today, is a million times better than anything I’ve done before. I promise,”

“Yeah, ‘kay,”

“Yeah?” he asked, purposefully fluttering his eyelashes and giving you puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah. I’m good,”

“Alright… Was that a bit of a buzzkill?”

“No! No. I’m-” you started to answer, but Eddie caught you in a kiss.

“Take a second,” he instructed.

Predictably, you did as you were told. Listening to your body, you could feel you weren’t as franticly turned on anymore, but your buzz wasn’t necessarily killed either. The problem was that you didn’t really know how to say that, so you just shrugged.

Eddie nodded, almost too seriously, knowingly. “Well… I have some questions… If you’re okay to keep... talking,” he offered.

“What kind of questions?”

Eddie grinned, happy to hear the right tone in your voice. “Liiiiiiike, when we… do this again, what do you want to do?”

“What are my options?” you cheekily asked back.

Eddie laughed. “I don’t exactly have a menu prepared, but I can whip one up if I’d make you happy,” he joked.

“With codewords,”

“What, like, order pancakes and I’ll have your shirt off in seconds?” He leans down and kissed the rise of your breasts in illustration. It makes you laugh and squirm. “Seriously though… I wanna know… like, what you’re good for,”

“What if I don’t know?”

“Do you know?”

You wished Eddie could just read your mind. Despite genuinely being comfortable and totally excited at the thought of doing anything with him, it was stupidly hard to just verbalise your thoughts.

“Um. It’s more like… What happens if I think I know and we go to do that but then it changes?”

“Then it changes. That’s normal. Nobody wants the same things all the time. I don’t. Well. I do. I want you all the time-”

“Oh my god, shut up,” you laughed, pushing him away when he tried his puppy dog look again.

“You love me,” he countered. “Seriously. You say the word, no matter what we’re doing, we stop. Completely or just for a minute. Whatever,”

“Okay… What’s the word?” you asked. Eddie’s head turned a bit, confused. “The… safe word?”

Eddie’s face lit up. “Oh. Oh, you know what a safe word is, huh? Not so innocent after all? Not so angelic,” he teased, tickling your sides, making you squeal and your tits bounce fantastically. Eddie stopped, let you breathe. “What do you want it to be?”

You tried to think of a very unsexy word. “Basketball.”

Eddie laughed, nodding. “That’s… yeah… That will do it.”

Eddie sighed, closed the space between you once again, kissing your neck, trying to fight the urge to leave love bites. “What’s your feeling about hickies?” he asked, thought straight from brain to mouth.

“My parents would freak.”

He knew that, hence the urge-fighting. “What about if they couldn’t see them?”

Eddie kissed down. One of his arms snaked around you, holding you close. With his free hand, he cupped you, his thumb running gently back and forth over the nipple. The other got the attention of his mouth. Your eyes screw shut and your head lolled back.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, mouth hot against your skin.

“Yes. Please,” you answered.

You could feel him smile into you. “Don’t gotta use your manners with me.”

It didn’t feel like you were just killing time before the main event. The hours slipped by so quickly, topless and warm and wanted in Eddie’s bed. He never grew bored of you. The little gasps or giggles. The rose petal softness of your skin. The trust you had in him. And you had never been happier.

Later, when you replayed the night in your head on a loop, you realised there were moments where you weren’t just tolerant of your body, but thankful for it. For its chubby size - your chest, more than a handful for Eddie to paw at and fawn over. For its inexperience – every fingertip run down your spine felt brand new and special. For its existence – for getting you through life and to the point where you could be that close to Eddie Munson, the sweetest boy you’d ever know and the only one to make you ache in a way that was still making you blush.

NEXT CHAPTER: 6 - Monsterous

End Note: Still feeling incredibly self-conscious about smut, particularly vocab (tits versus breasts versus boobs is killing me). I lowkey beg for feedback, please.

Also, find me and my Eddie zine that Joseph Quinn has personally seen and approved over on my Insta.

Fic Taglist: @ajeff855 @b-barnes04 @eddie-munson-is-a-sweetheart @nerd-squad-headquarters @word-wytch @harrys-tittie @munsonsmel0dy @sidthedollface2 @eddiethesexy

All My Eddie x Reader Content Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @munsonlives @sweetpeapod @depressooexxpressoo @thorfemmes @hawkins-high @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @mymoonisalways-in-scorpio @averagemisfit03

[quietblueriver]

Still Bright to Me (Kate/Yelena, 1/5)

Rewatched Hawkeye and this happened. I love them so much.

Post canon.

Kate's struggling, so Clint sends some backup in the form of a (former?) black widow assassin, who offers Kate a trade: she'll protect Kate from the tracksuits and Kate will show her the best of New York. Their deal ends, but their friendship doesn't, and suddenly Kate's pretty sure it's becoming something else entirely. Something big and scary and really, really good.

Read below or on AO3.

-

Kate could almost pretend this was a normal Tuesday morning. 

She walked into Bishop Security, tossed her bag behind the front desk, and took a right toward her mom’s office. She could see her through the glass walls, legs crossed as she looked over a set of files spread on the coffee table, a Bishop Security coffee mug waiting near her right hand on a cream coaster. Her suit was familiar, a favorite–navy with white pinstripes, wide legs, a white silk blouse. 

And then, of course, visible between the hem of her pants and the black leather of her heel, the shining black box strapped to her ankle, with its two tiny white lights signaling Eleanor Bishop’s location to the federal government at all times. 

It wasn’t a normal Tuesday morning. 

Her mom looked up as she got close, a tight smile working its way onto her face, and Kate felt the warring urges to run, cry, and vomit. Instead of any of that, Eleanor Bishop’s daughter did what she had been taught to do and kept her shit together, her own fake smile glued in place and her hands steady. 

Eleanor stood as Kate pushed open the door, walking around the coffee table and opening her arms. “I’ve missed you.” 

The words rang more than a little hollow in the face of the two sentence email Eleanor sent to set up this meeting and the total radio silence that preceded it. She’d been out on bail within like a day, which Kate knew because she got a Christmas NYT alert with a courthouse shot of her mom looking perfectly put together as she made her way down the steps to the towncar. (Nate won that round of Mario Kart.) 

From her mom? Not a word. Nothing until a week into the new year, when Kate did a double take at the sender on an email notification with the subject line: Meeting Tuesday. 

So yeah, Kate didn’t feel particularly missed. She felt like an hour on Eleanor’s work calendar. 

Still, she wrapped her arms around her mother, a stiff, quiet, awkward hug that she wasn’t sad to break. 

The tension between them hurt in a way Kate couldn’t have prepared herself for, and despite all her Bishop training, it took more than a little effort to hold back the tears pressing at the back of her eyes as she settled in the chair across from Eleanor. Eleanor, who, in addition to being a pretty major player in the organized crime scene in New York and several other major cities, was still her mom. 

It might never have been easy between them the way it had been between her and her dad, but she’d never doubted that her mom loved her. Not really. Not until she looked her in the eye and said, cold and hard and distant enough that Kate wondered if she regretted running that car through the window and into Kingpin, “Is this what heroes do? Arrest their mother on Christmas?” Not until she followed that up with silence loud enough to make Kate wonder if she’d become Hawkeye and lost her second parent on the same day. 

“How are you?” 

The question snapped Kate back to the moment, and she blinked away flashing blue lights and the smell of smoke and the pain of a cracked rib as she sobbed in the shower. 

“Fine,” she said on instinct, twirling the silver ring on her index finger. It was bullshit, but so was the question. Eleanor’s eyes locked on her ring and Kate stopped twisting, stood and got a bottle of water from the fridge under the counter, stared at the marble as she uncapped it and took a slow sip. 

“Kate.” 

Kate took a deep breath and another sip of water before she turned around and met Eleanor’s eyes. 

“Mom.” 

She could see her mom’s jaw grinding, considered very seriously walking out and calling Clint and going back to Iowa for as long as she fucking could. Laura had offered and meant it. Clint had nodded beside her and meant it just as much when he said, “Call anytime.” She’d only been back for like a day anyway; her stuff was still packed and PD would be pumped to be back on the farm. 

She didn’t leave. She sat back down in the chair. She wasn’t even close to sure that was the right decision. 

Her mom grabbed the small remote on the coffee table and hit a button and suddenly the glass behind them was frosted, she and her mother in a more private space. Chest tightening unpleasantly, Kate’s mind ran everything through a new filter. How much of that interaction had been calculated? How much of the hug, of Kate’s presence, of Eleanor’s smile, had been meant for the employees still at Bishop Security? For the attorneys Kate knew were waiting in a conference room just across the hall? For whoever might leak a picture or a quote to one of the reporters hanging around? For whoever her mom might’ve paid to do that? 

She pushed the tears away for another minute, let anger take the lead. It was, after all, much higher on the list of acceptable emotions than hurt. “What am I doing here, mom? What do you need from me?” 

It was hurt, though, that flashed across Eleanor’s face, brief but obvious, and shame bubbled in Kate’s stomach. She didn’t take it back. She didn’t look away either, watched as her mom schooled her features into something neutral and reached for a folder on the table, opening it and turning it toward Kate. 

“This is the information on your trust fund. There are two numbers on the last page, one for my attorney and one for my accountant. I’ve worked with them both for a long time. Call them and they’ll help you get the account handled.”

Kate took the folder and tucked it into the side of the chair. “Thanks.” 

It was a relief. She was, for the first time in her life, worried about money, and it sucked. She’d been working out how long she could make it on what little she had in her own account from her Bishop Security “paychecks” plus an envelope of cash Clint or Laura had snuck into her bag before she left the farm and refused to discuss when Kate found it. 

Her mother nodded. “It’s yours. It has always been yours. Whatever happens with my assets and the company, they can’t touch that. Or the apartment.”

Kate knew, vaguely, that she had a trust fund from her dad’s parents. She was from the kind of money, at least on her dad’s side, that meant her grandparents had set her up from the day she was born. She had never bothered with it before, couldn’t even access it until her last birthday, but she was really fucking glad for it now. 

And for whatever laws stopped her mom (and her dad, maybe, but she really didn’t like thinking about that either) from touching it. 

“Okay.”

Her mom sighed, lips turning down in that way they did when Kate disappointed her. It was a familiar look, and it was how Kate knew the next words from her mouth were the starting point of a negotiation, rather than an end in themselves. 

“I’m sorry, Kate, if what I said that night hurt you. And for taking some time to get in touch. I was angry, which I think is understandable.”

When Kate didn’t immediately respond, Eleanor added, “You obviously weren’t ready to talk either.”

Yeah. There it was. An accusation dressed as an observation. An invitation for Kate to apologize. 

Instead of guilt, Kate felt Laura’s arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders as she cried late on Christmas night, the photo from the Times article shining up at them from Kate’s phone screen on the coffee table. Heard the soft, “Oh, honey,” as Kate whispered her fears aloud, rasped and broken questions about whether her mom would ever want to talk to her again, whether she should call, whether it would hurt worse if she didn’t answer. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me. You made it pretty clear on Christmas Eve I’d disappointed you, and then I heard from the Times about your bail before I heard from you. Wasn’t really interested in leaving a voicemail.”

Eleanor’s frown deepened, deepened further when Kate didn’t flinch. Or, Hawkeye didn’t flinch. Kate would cry later, but her mom didn’t need to know that. Didn’t deserve to know that. 

Eleanor sighed, and her words had a resigned quality to them on the surface, but Kate knew veiled anger when she heard it. “I understand you probably didn’t know what you were doing when you made that call to the police. I know you can be rash. Impulsive. That’s my fault. Confidence is one thing, but I clearly should’ve reined you in a long time ago.”

Kate bit her tongue and started thinking about trick arrows, reminded herself that she could leave. 

“But now, Kate.” She gestured at her ankle, in the vague direction of her army of lawyers a few rooms over. “Now we’re all paying for your choices. Don’t you see that?”

Yeah. She could leave. Kate took a deep breath and another sip of water and leaned forward. 

“No. I don’t. I see you paying for the choices you made and trying to blame me for it.” Anger slashed ugly across her mother’s face, eyes sharp and chin jutting out in a way that Kate knew her own did in a challenge. “I don’t regret what I did. I wish I hadn’t had to. I wish you hadn’t…” Kate shook her head and stood. Her mom matched her. 

“Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, you do not walk away from me.” 

Her voice was tight and low and Kate had heard it like this a few times in her life, but it had never scared her before. She fought a sob and squared her shoulders. 

“If you were who I thought you were, and I was alone in a room with someone who had done the things you’ve done, you would tell me to run .” Kate shrugged, bent to take the folder. “Guess I know better now. Thanks for this.” She didn’t have it in her to hold her mom’s eyes but pride and resentment and molten anger at least kept her voice steady as she added, “Merry Christmas, by the way. One for the books.”

She turned to go, made it two steps before she felt the hand on her shoulder. She had broken the hold and turned, hands out and eyes assessing her mom like a threat, before she could stop herself. Her mom understood, if the look in her eyes was real, and she jerked her hand back. Kate wasn’t sure whether Eleanor was ashamed or afraid that Kate might break it, and fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How did they get here.

“Kate. Just…” She stepped back, sat. “I’m sorry. Give me two more minutes. And then,” she swallowed, and Kate saw her mom, just her mom, sad and exhausted, “I promise you can go. It’s important. Please.”

Kate hesitated for a second but walked back to the chair, perched on the edge. 

“Thank you.” 

The relief was genuine, and Kate nodded, gripped at the folder in her hands. Her mom cleared her throat and took another folder but kept it herself, thumbing at the tab. 

“I’m going to go away for a little while.” Kate tensed, eyed the ankle monitor before she could stop herself. Eleanor’s eyes followed hers and she shook her head. “No. No. They’re facilitating it. Fisk…Well, things are complicated right now, but he’s not a forgiving man.”

“I thought he was…out of the picture. For now.” It was one of the only reasons Clint hadn’t pushed harder for her to stay in Iowa. He’d heard through channels that Fisk had been shot. That Maya had shot him. That the whole organization was a mess and Maya was on the run and Fisk might actually be gone, although Clint said not to bank on that. 

Eleanor sighed. “Nobody knows for certain his condition. And it’s true that they appear to be distracted right now, but they won’t forget about me, especially if they think I’m cooperating.” 

Kate sucked in a breath. “Are you? Cooperating?”

Eleanor smiled ruefully. “The case against Fisk is much bigger than me. He…well, I’m honestly surprised there even is one, given the number of people in the city on his payroll or his hit list, but it seems like his influence hasn’t reached certain corners of the federal government.

“In any case, as far as he or anyone else knows, I’m not cooperating, but that doesn’t mean he wants to take chances.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Eleanor shook her head and smiled an almost fond smile, although it had sharper edges than Kate was used to. “No, Hawkeye, I didn’t.” She leaned forward, extended her hand over the table between them. “Kate, these people are dangerous. I’m going away, at least through the trial, and I would ask you to come, but…”

“I won’t.”

“Right.”

Eleanor watched as Kate leaned back, began twirling her ring again. 

“So, I need you to be careful. Call Clint Barton. Call…whoever. I have people from the company who…”

“Mom.”

“Let me finish, Kate. I have people from the company who are and will continue doing minimally invasive work to keep you safe.”

Kate raised her eyebrows and Eleanor ground her teeth but did not snap as Kate said, “I have no interest in anyone from Bishop Security keeping tabs on me. Even minimally invasive ones.”

Unyielding and unapologetic, her mom said, “I didn’t tell you to ask for your permission. I told you so that you wouldn’t shoot Ari or the company SUV he’s driving when you eventually noticed he was keeping track of you.”

At one point, the tone would’ve made her hesitate, but today it just pissed her off. Kate met her mom’s eyes as she responded. “Yeah, okay.” She made a note to look Ari up in the company directory. “I won’t shoot him, but I will lose him, and if he keeps trying, I just made a knockout arrow that works pretty well.”

Her mom rubbed at the spot at the base of her neck that meant she had the beginnings of a tension headache. 

“What do you want me to do here, Kate? This is serious, and whatever you might think of me, I’m still your mother, and I love you. I won’t just leave you.”

What Kate wanted was for her mom to not be facing a list of charges so long and violent that reading it had made Kate dizzy. What Kate wanted was for her mom to have never fucked with Wilson Fisk. For her dad to have never fucked with Wilson Fisk. For the people responsible for taking care of her to have been better and more careful. 

She said, instead, “I’ll install new security at the apartment. Non-Bishop Security stuff.” She clarified, and her mom barely suppressed an eye roll. “It’s all being redone anyway.” Thank fuck for insurance, Laura Barton’s ability to make a checklist, and contractors used to SHIELD’s specific need for quick and secure repairs to explosive damage. “And I will check in once a day with someone from the company to confirm that I’m alright.” 

Eleanor’s sigh could’ve been used as the model for disappointed and exasperated mothers. Sadly for her, her only audience was Kate, who was growing less affected by her mom’s opinion by the minute. (Still affected. Probably always affected. But realizing that her decision not to cover up a murder made her mom more disappointed than, y’know, aiding and abetting would have really did wonders in blunting the effects of maternal guilt.) 

“This is the best I’m going to get, isn’t it?”

Kate leaned back into her chair. “Yes. And if you try anything more, and you know I’ll know if you do, then I’ll stop checking in.” She paused, added even though she was sure her mom already knew, “Also, I’ll take whatever or whoever, wrap them up in a bow, and drop them somewhere super embarrassing for the company.” 

“You’re a shit,” she said, with clear fondness below the frustration. 

Part of Kate resented it. The familiarity. It was fucked, that her mom thought she had the right to act like the last month hadn’t happened. Or worse, that she had fixed everything with a non-apology and a little bit of worry and a cream folder full of financial security that was there despite Eleanor’s best efforts and not because of them. 

Another part of Kate clung to the small piece of evidence that her mom still loved her the way she hoped. Hard not to feel pathetic about that. 

She shrugged, picking at the skin around her thumbnail. “Maybe. But it’s your fault.”

“Yes,” Eleanor said softly. “It is.” She took a pen and legal pad, wrote something quickly on a sheet which she tore and folded in half before brushing nonexistent lint from her pants and standing. “I’ll walk you out.”

She took Kate to the front desk and hugged her. It was still stiff and quiet and awkward, but it made Kate want to cry less. And then that made her want to cry more.  

“Here’s protocol for contact.” She handed Kate the folded piece of legal paper. “I don’t need to tell you to—“

“Destroy it after I read it. Yeah. I got it.” 

“Shit,” her mom said again, and again, Kate shrugged. 

She bit her lip, conflicted, but in the end forced the words past her pride. “Stay safe, mom.”

She didn’t bother trying to decipher the momentary slip of her mom’s mask, what it meant that it was back in place by the time she responded, “You stay safe. I love you.”

The words landed like a thumb on a bruise, the doubt a dull ache sharpened with pressure. 

“I love you too.” It felt more like an admission of weakness than anything else, and god, she needed to get out of here. 

Eleanor raised her hand a fraction but she didn’t reach out, and Kate didn’t either, and then she was gone, heels clicking and back ramrod straight as she made her way to the sea of lawyers waiting for her. 

-

Clint answered on the second ring, just as Kate was turning into the park with PD. 

“How’s it going, Hawkeye?” 

She grinned, even in the midst of her absolutely shit family crisis, because that was still so fucking cool . 

“Not gonna lie, Hawkeye. Hasn’t been the greatest day.” She gave an emotionally abridged rundown of the encounter with her mother, Clint humming and making concerned noises as she glossed over the warning her mom provided about her safety. He didn’t question her decision to decline Bishop Security’s interventions, but she could practically see the crease in his brow through the phone. “Actually,” she said, tugging PD away from a very suspect paper bag covered in grease and…things, “you might be able to help me out. You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who could hook me up with a solid security system?”

Clint laughed. It wasn’t quite his Christmas-with-the-family-in-Iowa laugh, but it was close, which made Kate relax a little. Couldn’t be too bad if Clint wasn’t stuck in Avenger mode. “Yeah. Yeah. I think I’ve got a few people for that. May or may not have already asked some folks. Mind sending me basics on the layout? I’m hoping moldy blown-out hole above a pizza joint doesn’t work anymore.”

“Nah, baby.” Kate kicked at a rock on the path. “I’ve got walls . Windows , even.”

“Livin’ the life,” Clint said seriously. 

“That’s me.” 

-

After a solid but unsuccessful (can’t win ‘em all) attempt to exorcize some trauma with a three hour workout, Kate left messages with the trust fund contacts and then spent the evening in her mostly repaired but also mostly empty apartment watching Wipe Out on the IKEA sofa she and Clint had lugged up before he left. It was fun to viciously critique contestant strategy to PD, who was a good audience and thumped his tail gamely every time Kate looked his way.

At 9:30pm, as promised, she called her designated Bishop Security agent with the safe word. It wasn’t her mom. She hadn’t heard anything more from her mom, and the sting of that was only a little soothed by the fact that she didn’t really want to have to navigate any more awkward and unpleasant conversations with her remaining bio parent. 

In an attempt at productive distraction, she made the mistake of checking her email (she’d turned off notifications after her mom’s request, hadn’t wanted any more surprises in public spaces), where she found a message from the school administration about finding a time to discuss “alternative options” for her final semester. Weirdly, they weren’t falling over themselves to welcome back a property destroying security threat whose well of money, so far as they knew, had dried up. 

Kate wasn’t thrilled at the thought of going back either. There had been plenty of nasty headlines already, and there would only be more. 

When she left campus at the beginning of winter break, she was Kate Bishop: charming archer who won nationals; fun to play beer pong with; a little loud but good on a group project; cocky and sometimes reckless but in the mostly attractive, rugged way. 

Maybe it wasn’t giving her classmates enough credit, but it felt too naive to think that she’d go back and be anything other than Kate Bishop: daughter of a massive criminal; annoyingly vocal in class; unapologetic destroyer of a beloved school landmark and a national seasonal treasure; spoiled rich kid with a massive ego who only got in because of her money. 

Kate was also self-aware enough to know that they wouldn’t be totally wrong on any of those points, including the last one, probably. The Bishop dorm that had been on campus for like a hundred years and an endowed professorship definitely didn’t hurt her application. 

Even though her mom seemed convinced that Kate didn’t realize everything she’d been given, Kate had always tried to be more than a legacy admit and a snotty, old money New Yorker and she thought, hoped, that she had been kind of successful. The last few weeks had definitely undone most of that work. Maybe all of it. 

Anyway, whatever. She’d finish with minimal time on campus her last semester, and that would be fine. Not to sound like a massive dick but Kate had never really had to try that hard to do well so it wasn’t like missing in-person classes would hurt her, and her archery season was basically over anyway. Yeah, it would be a little more lonely, but that was the life of a superhero. She had Clint. Campus was close enough that Franny and Greer could come visit whenever. And she’d make other friends. People made friends after graduation, right? That was a thing? 

She sent an email back confirming a meeting time and slammed her laptop closed a little too forcefully. 

Fighting the temptation to stare at the wall and contemplate her mom’s potential hideout locations while feeling super sorry for herself, she took PD for a last walk around the block before falling asleep to reruns of Community . Not the healthiest of habits but whatever, she needed rest and distractions. She’d worry about sleep hygiene later. (Or never.) 

She made it through three check-ins, seven walks, a depressing call with Clint confirming Fisk was still alive and likely to stay that way, four workouts, a very awkward conversation with the Dean of Students and her academic advisors, three boxes of Junior Mints, zero words from her mother, a sighting of one tracksuit goon, and the delivery and installation of what was 1000% a SHIELD-developed security system before she finally lost it, which, all things considered, was pretty impressive. 

And of course, it was a small thing. That’s how this shit went. She stumbled over one of PD’s rope toys in the kitchen, slammed her hip into the counter, and suddenly she was crying. Like, big crying. The kind of heaving, sobbing crying that hurt . She sank to the floor, where PD came to press against her in a full body lean, and she stayed there, running her fingers through his fluff, until her kitchen timer beeped annoyingly at her seventeen minutes later. 

Thankfully–also a small thing, but one that really, really helped–she had managed to get her pizza into the oven before her breakdown. She pulled it out, contemplated tearing it into pieces (wouldn’t be the first time) but was pretty sure eating hand-ripped frozen pizza over her sink wouldn’t make her feel better , so she grabbed the surprisingly useful pizza cutter gadget thing she got during a freshman year Dirty Santa exchange with the archery team and cut the BBQ chicken into squares on a cutting board, took the whole thing over to her sofa, and turned on Community again.  

She thought she was good, or as good as she could be, but when Clint called, she was back to blubbering within like 30 seconds of his, “Hawkeye,” gross, snotty, embarrassing sobs traveling through the air to Iowa. Nice, Kate. 

“Okay,” he said calmly, in a voice that Kate imagined he might use in a hostage negotiation. “Hold on. I’m getting Laura.” 

Forty-five minutes later, it was just the two of them again, Laura having worked her magic (Kindness. Kate was pretty sure it was kindness, and it was good to know that someone who had definitely been a SHIELD agent could hold on to that.) and gone to handle Nate’s bathtime routine. 

“I really don’t mind coming, Kate. This is big stuff. You don’t need to do it alone, and I don’t like that you saw one of the tracksuits in your neighborhood.” 

“I know. I know. I promise I’ll call you if I need you, but right now I’m okay. I just…it was a rough night. Look, though! I talked about it! Also, like, it definitely could have been a random dude with terrible taste in clothing and a bad haircut, okay?”  

“Mmm.” It was skeptical at best. 

“Trust me, Clint? I’ll feel bad if you come right now. There’s a kickass security system and nobody is throwing molotovs at me or even really paying attention.” This part, at least, was true. The tracksuit she’d seen was at a popular Thai place a few blocks over, seemingly just picking up takeout, and Kate hadn’t noticed any activity closer than that. “I’m a little lonely and sad, yeah, but it’s not, like, a Grey Gardens situation. PD and I are fine and we’re getting out in the world and we’re safe. I’ll SOS if things get dire. Really.” 

He sighed in concession. “Okay. I trust you. But I’m serious, Kate. Even if you’re not in immediate danger. Partners, remember? It means more than just trick arrows and car chases.” 

She’d gotten to know the Bartons over Christmas, which meant she got to know Natasha, too–through photos; Lila’s favorite sleep shirt; a post-it on the fridge saying she’d gone for a run and would be back for lunch; stories, so many stories; a late night of them ended with Nate’s sleepy voice mumbling from Kate’s lap, “I get to have her name.” There was a room upstairs that was the one place Nate didn’t explore during hide and seek, a table in Clint’s workshop that had been painted red, tiny black Barton handprints made to look like little spiders over the top, initials marked in white. Laura took a breath like she’d been punched when a recipe card fell from one of her cookbooks, neat, distinct handwriting with a PS at the bottom: Clint–Add extra cinnamon if you’re making this for Laura. 

More than trick arrows and car chases. 

“Partners. I remember. Thanks, Clint.”

- 

She wouldn’t have been surprised to see Clint on her mopey midday walk, even after their conversation. She hadn’t sounded great last night, and she knew partners also meant sometimes telling the other person to sit down and shut up and take their medicine (or ice their knee with a frozen margarita).   

It wasn’t Clint, though, who was propped casually against a tree on her regular route with PD through the park, familiar black and yellow jacket unbuttoned over a gray t-shirt and high-waisted jeans. It was, instead, the widow who almost killed him, using the combat boot resting against the tree behind her to press forward and toward Kate, grinning big while Kate stared at her like a fucking idiot. 

“Kate Bishop! Look at this coincidence!” 

She bent to greet PD, letting him sniff her hand before going in for pets. He was belly-up within seconds, and Yelena seemed delighted, kneeling to get a better angle and running dark green nails through white fur. 

It gave Kate, who was still feeling sorry for herself and definitely not ready for human interaction, much less human interaction with Yelena Belova , a chance to try to get her shit together. It also gave her a chance to admire Yelena’s hair, which was down and like, glowing, basically. Totally ridiculous, because it was gray as hell and January in New York. 

Kate, who had taken her beanie off like ten minutes ago, was pretty sure she had managed to untangle the worst of the mess before she left the apartment and was suddenly grateful she had bothered to shower, at least. 

Not that Yelena hadn’t seen her looking a lot worse. 

The assassin continued loving on her totally smitten dog, who was going to be fully disgusting from wagging and squirming all over the slushy sidewalk while Yelena praised him in Russian. 

“Yelena.”

The widow grinned up at her, giving PD another scratch before pressing to stand in front of Kate. 

“Coincidence, huh?”

Yelena shrugged, and it was annoyingly charming, her whole deal. Deadly charming. 

She wasn’t afraid, a little bit because yeah, if Yelena wanted Kate dead, she’d be dead already, but mostly because she knew more now. Clint had told her, over beer and gingerbread and conversation about Natasha, some things about his fight with Yelena, who she was to Natasha and what that meant to him. He told her a little less about the Red Room and less than that about what it was to be a widow. He told her nothing about the call he made a few days after Christmas, stepping outside speaking Russian, but Kate didn’t ask. She didn’t need to. So yeah, deadly charming but also no longer trying to murder her or her mentor.

Apparently so much in the not-murdering lane that Clint had sent Yelena to check in on her, which, weird choice, but maybe they were talking in a real way now. Clint seemed pretty hellbent on at least trying with the person who had meant so much to his person. Maybe Yelena felt the same. 

As if she were reading Kate’s mind, Yelena said, cheery as ever, “Don’t worry. Barton and I are okay. We are not best friends,” she snorted at herself, somehow making it attractive, “but we have an understanding, and I am no longer going to kill him.” 

It was nice of Yelena, not to mention why she had been out to kill Clint in the first place. Someone has hired a black widow assassin . Yeah. Someone. Kate sagged a little. God, she was tired. 

Yelena said, tilting her head down the path, “Let’s walk and talk?”

Kate couldn’t take her anger out on her mom, but Yelena was right there, so Kate, who had never been accused of not being a brat, frowned a little and took a step back. Yelena definitely noticed, because she was a fucking super spy and Kate wasn’t subtle, but she acted like she didn’t, patting PD’s head gently where he was pressing into her thigh, smile still firmly in place. 

“I…” 

“Barton sent me, if that helps.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

Yelena pointedly eyed the new distance between them with a raised brow but waited, silent and steady, for Kate to make a move. 

She could have argued. She could totally have argued. She had plenty of reasons to say no.  A few good ones, even. But she was tired and she was lonely and she had just enough sense in her to overwhelm the stubbornness and brattiness and consider what pushing away the person her friend had sent to check on her would get her. The answer was a pretty swift nothing. She already had a lot of nothing. She didn’t love it. 

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s walk and talk.” 

Yelena’s smile grew, and Kate offered one in return, a little less than full Bishop charm but more real for it. Yelena clapped her hands in front of her and turned with purpose down the path to their left, PD sticking happily by her side. 

“So what did Clint tell you?”

Yelena eyed her. “Straight to business then. Fair enough.” 

“Did you have…non…business…things you wanted to talk about?”

The quirk of Yelena’s lips made Kate’s cheeks heat. So she wasn’t the most articulate right now. Whatever. 

“Well, last time I was here, you said something about a drink.” Her lips turned down slightly. “But I think maybe you were not serious, which I have to say, is a little disappointing. I thought we had fun.” 

“Fun?” Kate said, tone disbelieving and eyebrows raised. “The part where you broke into my apartment and threatened me over mac and cheese?” Yelena made a noise of protest, which Kate ignored. “Or the part where you kicked my ass on the way to kill my mentor?” 

“Still so defensive.” Yelena tsked at her. “So for you, maybe not so much the girls’ night.” Kate snorted, which Yelena ignored. “Okay. But the sparring was fun. And you said you liked me!”

Kate shook her head but was smiling despite herself. “Sparring. That was sparring for you. God, how fast could you have kicked my ass with a little effort?” Yelena shrugged, unconcerned. “Okay well belated thanks for not breaking me in half, or whatever.”

“Removing an obstacle,” Yelena said. “I was a little annoyed, but I had a good time, in the end. I am learning to be more flexible.”

Kate’s smile widened. “Glad I could help. I meant it, about liking you. Only because you didn’t actually kill Clint, though. We would not be chill if you’d gone through with that.”

“But now we are chill?” She was definitely teasing, but it was soft, friendly, and Kate was grateful for it.

“Yeah. We’re chill. And, uh,” the calculation of her pride to loneliness ratio was depressingly quick, “I’d be down for a drink. Or food. Whatever. If you want.”

“See? Non…business…things,” Yelena drawled, imitating Kate’s accent perfectly. 

“Okay, I take it back. Drink invitation revoked.”

Yelena laughed, low and loud, eyes crinkling as she ruffled PD’s fur when he yelped a half-bark in happy solidarity. 

“So I have lost my drink privilege because I am funny. This seems unfair, but I notice you said nothing about food. That is still on the table?”

“Cute,” Kate blurted before her brain could stop her mouth, and at Yelena’s confused expression she added, a little flustered, “The pun, I mean.”

Yelena winked at her, all signs of confusion gone, and Kate rolled her eyes and ignored the uptick in her heartbeat at Yelena’s smile because not right now, Kate .

“Clint sent you?” Kate shot for exasperated but in, like, a friendly way, and it seemed to be fine, if Yelena’s nod was anything to go by. 

“Yes, yes. Barton said you’re having a bit of a shit time. I told him yes of course she’s having a shit time because her mother hired me to kill you and she also killed that rich white man who shares his name with twenty other people and then did many many other illegal things and now she is arrested.”

It was a tone Kate herself used, often in back and forth with Lila, when Clint was being dense. The hand not occasionally patting PD waved in the air in a series of gestures indicating both that Clint was an idiot and that her point was obvious. 

Kate grimaced. “Well. You’re not wrong.”

One side of Yelena’s face scrunched apologetically. “Sorry. Possibly I was too blunt?”

“Nah, it’s nice, honestly. No use dancing around it.”

“Hmm.” She continued, “Well, Barton was worried and wanted me to come see you. To make sure you are okay, which I told him was stupid for all of those reasons but also, to make sure you are safe from those idiots in bad workout clothes and whoever else, which is less stupid and is something I can actually do.”

“He…hired you?”

Yelena laughed and shook her head. “No. No. He could not afford me. But like I said, we have an understanding, and you are important to him. I was already in New York for work, and I will be here for some time, I think. So. Easy enough to find you.” Her brow furrowed slightly as she added, “We should probably work on that.”

“We?” Kate breathed to herself. 

“We,” Yelena confirmed. “I have a proposal, if you are interested.” 

PD’s tail thwacked against Kate’s leg, Yelena’s hand scratching behind his ear where he had moved to walk between them. 

“Yes, for you, too, хороший мальчик.” 

“His name’s PD, by the way,” Kate offered absently. “Short for Pizza Dog. Or Lucky.” 

Speaking down to PD, Yelena murmured something in Russian, that, based on vibes alone, was, “ Your mother has given you a series of stupid names ,” and then brought her eyes, a little judgmental, back to Kate’s. “I have been told by an associate that I need to take a vacation.” 

Her lips pulled down into a pout, and Kate tried very hard not to focus on her mouth. She was only halfway successful. 

“She was very rude about it, but also, probably, she was right. So, I finished the job that brought me back to New York and I am not taking another one right now. I want to see the city. And Clint Barton does not want to see you die.” 

“Um,” Kate said lamely. 

Yelena plowed on. “Clearly, you are not very good at self-preservation.” “Hey, that’s not…” 

She might as well not have been talking. “For example, I told you to stay out of my way and you decided to do the opposite of that.” Yelena looked at her the way Lila looked at Clint after he spent a solid minute trying to figure out how to get the Switch on. Idiot , her face said. “In fact, you slapped me in an elevator. Now. You are still alive, but that is because I like you.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

“You are welcome.” So now Yelena heard her. “But the tracksuit idiots will not be so nice, I don’t think. This brings me to my proposal. I will help you to stay alive, and you will show me New York.” 

Well, that was an easy yes. 

Option A: hang out and eat with Yelena and PD, watch Yelena enjoy tourist shit, and maybe, hopefully, learn some black-widow-y things from her while also not dying embarrassingly at the hands of a bunch of Grand Theft Auto rejects. 

Option B: continue to do everything she had been doing for the past five days, plus work super hard not to die embarrassingly at the hands of a bunch of Grand Theft Auto rejects. 

As much as Kate loved crying over her frozen dinner for one while her dog tried to comfort her, she was willing to try something new, even if it hurt her pride a little. 

And it did. 

She was Hawkeye. It didn’t feel great, needing protection, but something about the offer coming from an assassin skilled enough to kill a literal Avenger took the sting out of it. Also, the help came from Clint and Yelena, not her mom, which was pretty key right now. Plus it was a trade, even if Yelena was only making it feel that way to preserve a little of Kate’s dignity, a kindness that Kate didn’t know if she deserved but really appreciated. 

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, okay.” 

“Excellent!” Yelena stopped and bent to PD, who immediately flopped onto his back again. Kate watched the brown, icy water move under his tail and winced preemptively at the inevitable state of her bathroom post-dog bath. He was gonna look so sad in the tub. She was gonna be so sad trying to get him there. “Do you hear that? We are going to spend lots more time together.” 

When she stood again, her eyes wandered and caught eagerly on an ice cream cart. 

A list started forming in Kate’s mind, food and drinks and cute neighborhood walks, options for a good first Broadway show. The trade wasn’t exactly equal–Yelena protecting Kate in exchange for Kate acting as a glorified tour guide/personal Yelp–but Kate could still hold up her end of the bargain and do it well. She was a New Yorker, and she had opinions about most things in the city and those opinions were, of course, right. 

“There’s an ice cream shop six blocks away. Best waffle cones in the city. And I can recommend like 15 flavors. Good place to start?” 

It had been obvious to Kate, that first time in her apartment, that Yelena was performing–her eagerness about New York, the invitation to share food, her laughter and openness. Kate felt it again in their fight. Stop making me like you . Because she had been, and even though Kate knew who she was dealing with, she couldn’t help but be drawn in.

Yelena was beautiful and magnetic and god, so dangerous. Deadly in her charm. Deadly in her ability to disarm. Kate knew. She knew. 

Still, as Yelena’s face lit up at the prospect of ice cream, eyes defiantly bright against the gloom of the day, she found herself drawn in again, and more, something in her pushed back hard against the idea that being a widow meant Yelena wasn’t also a person. A weird, funny, vibrant person. 

“How many flavors will fit in a waffle cone?” She asked, gesturing for Kate to lead the way. She continued before Kate could answer. “We must try some other places to compare. Not to get us off on the wrong leg. It is not that I do not trust you, Kate Bishop the New Yorker, but I would like to learn what makes a waffle cone good. It is important to understand why the best is the best.” 

There was something about the tilt of her lips that made Kate say with confidence, “You 100% know it’s the wrong foot.” 

Yelena looked down at her feet, brow furrowing and head tilting as she considered. Kate’s momentary panic that she’d been a whole ass already dissipated as Yelena winked at her, and she shoved her with her shoulder on instinct, like she would have done with Franny or Greer or Clint. 

It was gone almost as soon as it appeared, but there was real surprise on Yelena’s face as she braced against the contact, obvious enough for Kate to follow up. “Sorry, was that okay?” She waved a hand between them. “The shoulder thing, I mean. I didn’t think about it but I know not everyone likes to be touched casually like that. I know we’ve fought, or whatever, but that’s different. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

“It’s okay,” she said. After a beat, she added, “Thank you for asking me.” 

“For sure.” Yelena was holding herself tightly, and Kate was pretty sure she got it, not being a huge fan of vulnerability herself, so she rerouted. “Back to the art of waffle cones. The question is really how many flavors do you want to combine? Because creating a complementary situation is essential to cone enjoyment.

“And yes, you’re totally right. We’ve gotta try at least a few other places so you can form your own opinion.” Yelena’s shoulders relaxed minutely, and Kate would probably spend a lot of time later thinking about how much of their interaction was organic and how much was Yelena carefully crafting, but for now, she took the win. “To be clear, though, I’m right about this. PD agrees.” 

Yelena offered her an incredibly unimpressed look. “I hope you are joking.” As Kate’s lips pressed into a line, Yelena sighed. “Kate Bishop. This is not for dogs. You know this.” 

“Hey! They have a pup cup!” 

“Pup cup,” Yelena mocked in an American accent, rolling her eyes. “Is the waffle cone part of this?” 

“I mean…” 

“Mmm.” Yelena nodded and hummed through pursed lips. “That is what I thought.” 

“Careful, PD,” Kate stage whispered. “Your new best friend is gonna take your treats away.” 

Yelena tsked at her with a shake of her head before ruffling the hair behind PD’s ears. “Do not try to turn him against me. He is too smart for that.” 

Kate watched as PD turned his little eye up at Yelena, tongue lolling and tail going hard. Smart wasn’t the word she’d use, but she wasn’t out here trying to shoot arrows in a glass house. She and PD clearly shared a deficient interest in self-preservation when it came to Yelena, both of them a little desperate and belly-up with trust, weak in the face of a beautiful, lethal weirdo. 

Kate really, really wanted to believe it wouldn’t turn out to be a mistake. 

[dallysnecklace]

“He’s my home”

Dallas Winston x Curtis! Reader

This ended up kinda long. Super fluffy! Dallas. Hope you enjoy! <33

The sun shone through the yellow stained curtains in my room waking me up, along with my brother, Darry.

“Y/n! You and Soda oughta leave in a few, your late already! ”

“I’m up Darry just gimme one sec” I yelled back.

I stumbled out of bed, managing to step on everything sharp on my messy floor.

Shit!

I’m already 5 minutes late.

Somehow I managed to get dressed and make my way to work. Staring out at the glass door of the store connected to the DX, I see a few socs head towards me. I sigh as a I hear the bell ring, signifying their entrance.

“Hey Grease.” The blonde one, Bob, spit. I could smell the disgust coming from his throat. The other three, of which I did not care enough to know their names, stared down on me, attempting to scare me.

“What do you want Bob” I spit back. I wasn’t going to allow the guy that my best friend almost killed to scare me like this. I checked my pocket for my blade, feeling an empty imprint. I must’ve left it somewhere. I couldn’t lose it, Dallas gave me that.

Me and Dallas had always been close. I was the one to initially become friends with him, then introducing him to the gang. My late Mother always loved him, my dad saw him as another son. At first I didn’t know what they saw in him, he was just another hood right? How I was wrong. I started to see the soft, heartfelt side that most didn’t see. He was just a kid after all. Like most cold, hard people he had a past that made him that way. It wasn’t his fault, he just needed someone to talk to.

After my parents died, it felt like he was the only one who could understand how I wanted to be treated. I didn’t want the sympathy and sad looks, I just wanted to talk to someone about it. He understood me, he understood my wants and needs, and my hates. He understood my anger towards the world yet my empathy to those who had it harder than me. I understood his coldness and his hatred of those better off than him, but I also understood his want for someone who cared.

Through this time we became closer, but I started to want more. I haven’t told him, I don’t think I ever will. But, it’s been making me avoid him. I feel bad. But I can’t stand being around him feeling like I am lying about how I feel about him.

“Leave her alone assholes” a disembodied voice said. I looked towards the door, seeing Dallas standing there against the wall, smoking a weed. Fuck, he looked hot. We made eye contact, and he smirked.

The Socs knew about me and Dallas, so they left quickly.

“Next time you won’t get off that easy, doll.” Dallas walked over and looked down at me.

“Yeah, yeah I know. I’m just sick of it, ya dig?” I looked back into his brown eyes.

He seemed out of it for a sec, then snapped back into it, “I dig ya. Look, I’m gonna split and hang out with John, but if you want to meet me at Bucks tonight we can have a few drinks.” He looked away and put out his cigarette with his boot heel.

“You askin me on a date Winston?” I joked.

“Sure, If you want it to be. I’ll see you there.” He smirked seeing my blush after his comment, and sauntered out of the DX. After hearing the Bell ring, I sprinted to Soda, the only one who knew about Dallas.

“Soda holy fucking shit. Did you tell Dallas anything?” He rolled out from under the car he was working on, with a worried yet excited look on his face.

“Don’t get mad at me okay, but I might’ve said something.” I gave him a look. “I know you said not to tell anybody but it’s so obvious you two are supposed to be together how could I not tell him?”

“Soda I’m embarrassed though! I- god im just kinda pissed at you.”

“You won’t be tonight” he winked and smirked.

I hit his shoulder, “OKAY! We are no longer having this conversation!” He laughed and went back under the car, leaving me to my own swimming thoughts.

Finally the work day was over, allowing me to make my way to Bucks.

The red lights infected my vision, as I stepped up to the door, knocking 3 times, stopping on the 4th when the door was swung open by none other than Buck. He looked worse than normal, having scruff running down his neck, with dark circles and tired eyes, he looked as though he’s been staying up for 5 nights straight.

“Hey Curtis. You here for ole Dal?” He said.

“Yeah. You okay man? You look a little, how do I say this? Like you got run over by a truck.”

“Don’t get wise kid, Dal has been keeping me up for a few nights, wanting to talk about shit. It’s cool” He winked at me.

“Okay whatever, I’ll see you later Buck.” I looked at him as I started up the stairs. Luckily there was no party tonight.

“See you tomorrow!” He chuckled as I made my way to Dal’s door.

It seems like everyone is in on something but me.

I walked in and Dallas was sitting on his rusty bed, playing with my switch. He looked up at me in the door way, and sat up on the edge of his bed.

“You forgot your switch last week” he stated.

“Ya, im sorry I know I should have it on me.” I rubbed the back of my neck.

“I just get worried. The socs seem to not care if your a girl anymore. I want you to be safe.” He said, still looking at the ground.

“I said I’m sorry Dal, now what’s wrong? I thought we were gonna get drinks?” I sat next to him, and the bed creaked as my weight sunk onto his shitty mattress

“Look Soda told me something the other day, and just, I want to know if he was being serious.” He looked away. He still hasn’t made eye contact with with at all. Did I do something wrong?

“Well what did he say”

“He said that you might feel more for me than what your letting on. And I know you’ve been avoiding me and shit, is this why?” Finally he made eye contact with me. He had a completely stone cold face on, not letting me know anything about his opinion on the topic.

“I didnt really want to tell you like this, but I guess yeah. I’m sorry, look I’ll- I’ll just leave okay? Bye.”

I started to stand up from his bed but he grabbed my wrist and guided me back down to his bed.

He looked in to my eyes, and in his I saw his conflicting feelings. He let the angel on his shoulder take over, and leaned in slowly to me. His hands found its way to my cheek and waist, pulling me closer to him. I had never felt anything this real and electrifying in my life. I put my left hand on his neck, and other touching his hand on my waist. He was cold, he always had cold hands, and bucks was always freezing. Yet, I was was completely hot.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, and I felt his hot breath on my lips. He smelled like firewood and Italian leather.

I nodded. He leaned closer and I felt his lips sink softly against mine. I closed my eyes and just let myself sink into this moment, along with my lips into his. His lips were soft, and plump. And damn, was he a good kisser.

He pulled away, but kept his hand on my waist, having his other hand travel to hold my hand.

I couldn’t help the smile escape from my lips, seeing his hold a genuine wide smile. I giggled and then looked away, but moved in to melt my body against his. He was warm now, unlike before the kiss.

“Dallas?” I looked up at him.

“Yeah sweetheart?” He looked down at me too.

“What does this mean?” I looked into his eyes.

His eyes searched mine for a second, and then they found what they were looking for.

“It means your my girl and I’m your guy. If you want, I mean-“ I cut him off

“I like that” I smiled at him, and started to lean in again.

Our lips once again met, but had less delicacy to them. More love, more haphazard likeness for the other. This was longer, and more passionate. I pulled away from him this time, “I’m happy I can do this now” I stated.

“Me too doll, me too. Look don’t take this the wrong way but do you wanna stay the night? It’s already late and I don’t want Darry to yell at ya.”

I laughed, “yeah, Dallas I’ll stay the night.”

He let a ghost of a true smile land on his lips, “okay good because I already told Buck you would.” I smirked at him.

Soon enough I was changed into one of Dallas’ shirts, and we were laying in his bed just talking. My head was on his bare chest, with my hand holding his. His other hand was massaging my hip and thigh, with tender and loving touch.

“Dallas.” He looked down at me, “how long did you know?”

“Soda told me a few days ago. He was the one to actually convince me to tell you aswell. Buck was kinda a part of it, I feel bad for the guy I’ve been up the past few nights talking to him about it”

“ahh, so that explains why buck looks shit” I laughed slightly.

He smiled, “yeah. Man, I didn’t even keep him up that long. He needs a fucking sleep schedule like a baby.”

He kept talking to me about something, but I was falling asleep. As my eyes shuttered closed, and I started to falling into the land of dreams, I heard Dallas whisper,

“I really think I love you darling”

“I’m in love with you too Dallas Tucker Winston”

The next morning, we woke up, went downstairs and of course Buck had to say “I told you so Curits!” As we left.

Dallas pulled up to my house, and walked in the front door with me. I stopped in front of the door.

“What if he’s pissed Dallas? Darry is so going to yell at me.”

He looked down at me, and kissed my forehead.

“Everything will be okay love.”

I walked in, and the gang all took a second glance and me and Dallas’ connected hands. They knew this was coming.

I walked into the kitchen, and Darry stood there, clearly disappointed but not to the yelling point.

“Y/n do even need to ask why you didn’t tell me you weren’t at home last night. Your never home anyways, always with Dallas. I understand your close with him but your never here!” He looked at me and Dallas’ hands, and something registered in his head.

Before Darry could say anything, I stepped in, “But Darry, Dad and Mom always told us that home is sometimes people. I love Dallas. He’s my home. You and Soda and Pony will always be my home, but I have another. I love you so much. And I’m sorry, but sometimes I get a little homesick all right?”

Darry looked at me once again, than at Dallas.

“Look Dallas, Mom and Dad always wanted you to stay here anyways, so why don’t you. So she can be with her home.” As he said home he quoted it.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but smile so wide and look at Dallas, I’ve always wanted to find him a better place than Bucks.

“You’ll take pony’s room, he’s basically sharing with Soda anyway. Just treat my baby sister right and we won’t have a problem, will we Winston?”

“Nah man” Dallas was still looking back at me, and I know he always will be.

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad: Lore

Edited: 10/16/2023

While I am currently in between writing chapters I thought I’d release a little bit of the lore that will be incorporated in the story or that I think is canon but might not get mentioned since the story is mostly Jason’s perspective.

What’s up with Jason?

So in this au Jason went through basically all his canon backstory and stuff already so that’s established and done with. Some smaller points that may or may not come up are things like his possession of the all-blades, his time on Nanda Parbat, Talia essentially adopting him, or his experience being Catatonic. Speaking of which, I have decided his resurrection came from his righteous anger combining with the ectoplasm in Gotham’s atmosphere, and he is essentially a revenant for the purposes of this story (he’s about a fourth ghost? Or maybe 3/4ths? 3/5ths? Idk yet).

He does already have a reputation in the Infinite Realms as “The Avenger” and “Son/Knight of Gotham” due both to the existence of city spirit Lady Gotham and the ghosts of people who’ve died in Gotham. He actually has a rabid fan club who want him to kill the Joker( if he became a ghost he’d be tried and banished to the nightmare realm).

I am also going to use “the pits are corrupted ectoplasm” trope in the story. However, they’re gonna be corrupted less in the sense of being straight-up poison and more in the sense of eating a weird mushroom with weird side effects (rage, slightly sentient/vocal core, white trauma streak)

As for his relationship with the Bat Family, we’ve moved to a point where everyone’s more or less made up. For Jason and Bruce specifically, they are now more civil. Their relationship is less “ What you’re doing is wrong and you have to stop.” vs “ I’m just doing what you won’t” and now it’s more “ I don’t fully approve of your decisions, but as long as you’re not killing people and coming home for dinner, I don’t care enough to nag you about it” vs “ You’re my dad and I love you. Plus actively killing people is no longer super necessary so I will give in but I still enjoy pissing you off”.

In terms of sibling relationships, Jason has like the cool older brother vibe but he’s actually the semi-responsible one that feeds you when you come over and makes you do homework and sleep properly. He’s still down for shenanigans but is low-key a mom friend. (Dick is not the “responsible one” he is a certified chaos gremlin. Not to say he can’t be responsible, he’s just not the one enforcing these things. He cares more about your social, emotional, and/or, mental state and would help you skip school to steal a penguin or go to ComiCon or smth if you said it was a “mental health day”). I think he has semi-regular hangouts with his siblings on a weekly basis.

I like to think that he and Damien did have a bit of interaction when they were both with the League so they do have a close bond there. He’s definitely apologized to Tim a bunch of times and they’re pretty close now they like scheming together, especially on how to annoy Bruce. Overall he’s largely made up and re-integrated with the family. It’s going to be mentioned later in the story that they resurrected his civilian identity as Jason Todd, so he can publicly be seen with his family and also to do work with the family.

This brings me to my next point of lore: that as Jason gains more control of Crime Alley, he focuses his efforts more into charity work. He’s helping the people get their education, get better access to healthcare, get better job opportunities, running soup kitchens, etc., and doing more humanitarian-focused work. He has got a pretty firm grip on crime and drugs so he’s shifting his focus more towards helping the people now. Even just being part of his gang can be helpful because he works with the Goonion (Goon Union) and offers good insurance plans and stuff. That’s part of the reason they resurrect his civilian identity is so that he can start working with/taking over the Wayne foundation.

What’s up with Danny and Ellie?

Okay so first things first in the story Danny is going to be the ghost prince (not king yet for a long while) and he acts as a junior member on the Council of Ancients who rule with Clockwork acting as his main regent. Meaning that Council + Danny make decisions and Clockwork is Danny’s ghost dad and is formal regent but mostly just handles things with help from the council. Essentially, after at least a couple thousand years Danny will be considered “of age” or eligible and take over the Infinite Realms; and after several billion he’ll become the ancient of space/reality and essentially become a god or primordial being of sorts. Also being of age is different than being an adult ghost. To be an adult ghost you need to have been a ghost for at least 20 years after your lifetime, unless you’re an eternal kid ghost like Youngblood or BoxLunch. So ghosts like Technus, the Box Ghost, and Lunch Lady are all adult ghosts. Whereas ghosts like Johnny 13, Kitty and maybe Ember either aren’t yet adult ghosts or became adult ghosts recently. Ellie ranks as princess and second-in-line, she’ll go through a similar process and eventually join the Council, become a diplomat, and/or rule as regent if/when Danny leaves the Ghost Zone. I’m gonna say all other afterlife’s and stuff are connected to the Zone and their respective leaders make up Phantom’s Court. (So basically he’s king and they are like the nobles). They all govern their own territories and Phantom handles any rouges or conflicts. When Ellie gets older she’ll move between realms on diplomatic missions to lighten some of Danny’s work. I haven’t decided what this means for anyone who is currently mortal and/or liminal. I might just have them live, fulfilling lives and pass away and move on to different afterlives. Or I might have them take places within the Phantom’s court or as advisors. And on the topic: Jazz, the Fenton parents, Sam, and Tucker are all fairly liminal, Jazz and the Dr.s Fenton a bit more than the other two. Everyone in Amity has a little bit of liminality, but not enough to affect their life spans or anything. Also, Vlad is still currently his usual, creepy, Frootloopy-self. But after screwing him over in this fic eventually, I want to have him arrested by the ghost police and spend several thousand years in ghost prison before he gets let out. Then he works on improving his relationships and post-redemption he’s going to be like that annoying, overbearing Uncle who tries to be cool and annoys you but ya don’t hate him. Another thing I wanted to go over is their obsessions. I wanna say the halfas all have dual obsessions bc it fits nicely with the half-and-half concept. Danny is protection and space. Ellie is freedom and family. Vlad is power and love. If I include Dark Danny he’ll be power and destruction and a reformed version would have control and safety.

As for his rouge gallery? Danny is able to help them find healthier outlets for their obsessions so they've become less of an issue. Now they kind of just act like Danny's annoying friends and/or extended family. The ones who were straight-up evil though are on indefinite time out in ghost prison though (e.g. Spectra and Freakshow). The gang still comes to visit him and Ellie from time to time though and he regularly sees them when he goes back to the realms for prince duties and stuff.

What’s up with Amity?

So after he turns 18, Danny decides to tell his parents about being Phantom. He’s legally an adult now and has been working toward getting emancipated anyways so he might as well. They took it like how I imagine slightly homophobic parents would react to learning their child was lgbt (side note: the Fentons are pro-lgbt. When Danny told them he was bi Jack said “Me too son!”, happy to have something to bond over). He tells them about the portal and becoming Phantom. They believe him and they are devastated and guilty.

In the next few weeks, they get into a couple arguments over them wanting to “fix” his ghost half. He blows up and tells them that by doing that they’d end up killing him and that Phantom is a part of who he is and they’ll just have to accept that. That night Danny leaves and with help from Sam stays in an apartment with Jazz near her college. He takes a two-year gap to get a handle of Infinite Realms and GIW stuff, plus doing a few small jobs to save up some money. Within that time the GIW gets taken down and the Fentons reach out bc their love for their children is stronger than their dislike of ghosts. Their relationship is still strained but getting better.

Dani also gets de-aged during that time and Danny decides to take care of her (partly for healing purposes and partly cause he wants to). His friends help forge documentation for her and he fights with Vlad over custody but ultimately wins and makes him pay child support. He’s saved up enough money and with a little help from Sam and Vlad gets an apartment in Gotham. He got a scholarship and is doing mostly online classes at Gotham University. He’s currently working part-time (I have not decided as what but I’m leaning toward mechanic). Vlad paid to have him enroll Ellie in Gotham Academy so she wouldn’t have to go to public school and Danny allowed it since it’d get her a better education. Ellie is going to start first grade in about 3 months since they moved to Gotham in June. (Just for reference, Damian is currently 12 and in seventh grade since I've decided not to move him up.)

Everyone in Amity knows about the discord between the Fenton's before Danny leaves. They don't necessarily know about Phantom though. Everyone kind of assumes Danny came out, fought with his parents then left. When some of them find out about Ellie another rumor circulates she was the topic of the fight. Regardless, the Fenton drama is kinda an open secret and most people sympathize with Danny. Whenever he comes back to town to visit a lot of people are really nice to him and Ellie, which he thought was weird until he learned what people thought was going on. Now he just takes advantage of their misunderstandings.

What's up with the GIW?

The GIW manages to get a hold of Ellie after Danny leaves Amity. When Vlad and Danny +Team Phantom find out they team up to rescue her. Danny also recruits people that he's met during his time away. For this mission, he recruits Constantine and Captain Marvel/Shazam. When the Fentons find out they want in too, almost as an apology gesture. They no longer want to try and "fix" Danny and are okay with Ellie's existence. They view her like family and want to help out. A lot of their views are still prejudiced but they're getting better, however, that's not the only thing straining their relationship. This is a step in the right direction though.

So they go in and infiltrate first in order to get Ellie out. Then they destroy the facilities behind them as they leave. Constantine and Captain Marvel then go back to the JL to work on getting to Anti-Ecto Acts repealed, something that is still in progress during the beginning of this fic. That's why they are gonna lay low while they’re in Gotham. The GIW attempted to experiment on Ellie while they had her but the containment unit they used destabilized her ectoplasm. She retains all her memory but is mentally and physically de-aged. Frostbite assesses her and says she needs to get extra ecto and to be near another halfa aura to help develop and stabilize her own systems. That leads to Vlad and Danny fighting over custody before Danny inevitably beats Vlad into the ground and walks away with custody and child support.

I think a full reveal about identities will happen after Danny gets confirmation that his existence is no longer illegal. It'll probably be after Jason asks him out but before he accepts because he wants Jason to know what he's getting into. Jason will probably be shocked but accept it relatively quickly. I haven't decided yet if I want him to live a mortal life with them and then die (either to move on or become a full ghost) or if I want him to be basically immortal like them and give him a position in the court.

~~~~ Find chapter one here

Chapter 2 now here

[sassyfrassboss]

Sounds weird but I’m trying to lose weight after becoming basically very fat from pandemic and mental health issues and just wondering if you and others have any workout recommendations or tips ? I will do it all safely and I eat properly too!

So I gained some weight as well during the pandemic. Here are some things that helped me get back on track.

I bought a Peloton bike, however the app is amazing and I downloaded it to my TV to do other exercises. I also have a Fit Bit to keep track of my steps/exercise. I also make sure to take the dog on a 2 mile walk 3-4x per week...used to be longer but it is hard with my schedule now we are back to in office. One thing is that I am SUPER competitive with others and myself so that helps me try and reach my daily goals. Also you can turn cleaning house or chores into an easy workout. There are also exercises you can find on Pinterest. Like 30 day challenges that are really good depending on where you want to tone.

A thing that is VERY important is a food scale. I weight ALL of my food to the serving size and keep a mental (used to write it down) track of my daily caloric intake.

Foods high in fiber are SUPER important. I eat a Baby Spinach salad every day that I weigh out that has an assortment of veggies. I usually do a protein smoothie in the morning. You can find a list of lean meats that you should try and stick to. The leaner the better and the more ounces you can have. That fattier the meat the more you need to eat less.

Do your BMI and see how much fiber you should be getting daily.

I also have pretty much cut out bread/pasta as much as I can. Every now and then I indulge but carbs sit like a lead weight for me.

I have a printed grocery list so I know exactly what I need each week to stay within budget but also to make healthy choices.

I only have water & milk in the house so no sodas or juices which contain tons of sugar. The milk is for my kiddo but I use personally almond milk. Even got my dad to switch to it from normal milk to help with his high blood pressure. You need to make sure you drink half your body weight in water daily. This will help more than you know.

An app that can help with better food choices is Fooducate. You can scan the barcode of food that is ranked by nutritionists. See where it is scored and search for healthier alternatives. You can also enter in all the food you eat during the day and it will show you where you need to adjust.

Another thing is to keep an itemized budget. When you add up all the $ you spend on eating out/unhealthy, it really knocks some sense into you how much $ you are wasting with bad habits.

When you start to clean eat and exercise, you will feel like crap for a few days but the energy you will have after about 4-5 days will change your life. Believe me.

[writing-funsies]

OP characters with a soft s/o 4

p.1 | p.2 | p.3 | p.4 | p.5 | p.6

pairings: Ace x reader, Marco x reader

warnings: none

Ace

this boy had a knack for getting into messes

(must be a family thing)

he was always ready to throw down in defense of the people he cares about

even if it meant more trouble for everyone

he wasn't untouchable in terms of fighting

but it was pretty hard to actually hurt him

at least in a way that left more than a small bruise

the wounds he suffers from aren't physical

this poor baby had a lifetime of self-doubt and the self-confidence of a potato

maybe less unfortunately

enter you

you, his wonderful s/o

you know that he struggles with his self-image because of his dad

it can't be easy

but you've never cared about his past

you only care about him now

the man he's become

the man that falls asleep in the middle of chewing his food

the man who warms you in the cold

the man who stole your heart

with you, he believes he truly has found the most precious treasure in all the lands

and sometimes, he finds himself doubting that he deserves you

but you squash those thoughts immediately

you take his face in your hands

smile

and place a gentle kiss on his nose or cheeks

with that, he knows

he knows how much you love him

how much you adore him

and that you deserve each other

you make each other happy

you show each other every day that you both deserve the world and then some

Marco

this man takes care of everyone else

he's always telling people to take better care of themselves

and patching them up after fights

he cares about his family

about all of the people he loves

to the point that he often neglects his own health

this phoenix may heal fast

but it's hard to heal what isn't physically broken

he works himself to exhaustion

and while he's still having a good time with his crewmates

he needs to take some time for himself to rest

so when he's been working for a few days straight

you bring him a snack and some hot tea

you sit down beside him

encouraging him to take just a moment to rest his eyes

knowing that you're hundred percent right, he relents

he couldn't argue with you

not over this

he'll take off his glasses

setting them on his desk

you two have a nice little chat

talking about his work and then moving to talk about the interesting things you've seen

you're able to talk him into stepping out of his office

you two stand at the edge of the Moby Dick

just relishing in the sunlight

a sense of ease settles into his heart

a pirates life isn't easy

but you make it all the better

you lift him up when he's down

and you bring him back to earth when he's floating away

he knows that at the end of the day, you'll be there

you'll always support him

you'll fight beside him

defending the family all of you have worked so hard to make and protect

and after everything is said and done

you'll provide him with everything he needs to get some quality sleep

he'll sleep beside you

a smile on his face

because what more could he ask for at this point?

he has the whole world

and he'd do anything to make sure his little bird stays safe and happy

[buckybarnesss]

Instead of pack mom let Stiles be the wine aunt (more like uncle)

I mean that’s basically the Liam plot - where Stiles absolutely is on one hand totally second hand embarrassed at Scott’s tries to tell Liam but also totally not being helpful about it at all. Kind of amused actually.

No pack mom‘ing at all.

(Also pls someone needs to do a gif compilation of unhinged stiles moments. Guy voted in favor of murder and torture, has sticky fingers like hell and absolutely admitted that one of the things he fears the most is the power he felt while possessed. This is a gremlin held together by the moral of it being against the evil guys. Like his dad and Scott and the rest are the reason he doesn’t start a judge jury executioner routine on what he deems evil.

I bet the school would vote him „future serial killer‘ every yearbook. )

i talked about this once with @dear-massacre.

stiles wouldn't be drinking wine. stiles in an goblin that is shotgunning a monster with a 5 hour energy chaser while staring you directly in the eye at 8am. he's having heart palpations and visibly shaking but it's fine.

and here's my thing: scott is derek and stiles is peter.

derek sees himself in scott all throughout season 1 and he's so deeply angry at his younger self he has problems seeing scott as scott. scott has misplaced anger at derek because he did not get a choice in becoming a werewolf. he was bitten without consent and thrust into this insane situation. derek's the easy target of all that misplaced anger, confusion and fear. derek's entire approach also wasn't great so scott wasn't responsive to it and constantly caused scott to dig his heels in further.

but peter and stiles? oooh boy. those two are the spiderman pointing meme.

for peter stiles is a mirror that both captivates and disgusts him. they share a cunningness, a similar brilliance that for peter is like narcissus gazing into a water pool but stiles disgusts him too because whereas peter's highest purpose is the continued existence of peter hale stiles isn't nearly as self-serving. he sees that as such a waste. and stiles? stiles doesn't want to be like peter. he says as much when he rejects the offer of the bite. stiles sees peter for what he is and this fascinates peter.

none of this stops stiles from being an unhinged little freak that is kind okay with murder. if not for scott and the sheriff stiles would be more terrifying and beacon hills should be very, very thankful. he advocates for people to die quite a few times and threatens it more than once.

when scott bites liam stiles is so exasperated by the entire situation his soul evacuated from his body because it was embarrassing. scott literally bites liam in a i need more hands situation. when scott gives liam the same line derek says and stiles's is just completely aghast at not only scott's audacity but he's knows how scott reacted to that (but it's the only model scott knows which honey boo no).

stiles was the reluctant step-dad to liam for a good portion of season 4. liam was the kid scott brought into the relationship and stiles was just like

[blustormrush]

Name: Matthias Lewis Holt

Aliases: Scout, Matt, Matthew, Little Rat, Mattie

Team: BLU

Age: 25 "Physically 40 something, but was stuck in respawn for 12 years"

Gender: Last time he checked, Male

Birthplace: Unknown, but has a strong Northern American accent

Height: 5"7

Weight: 140

Build: Matt is quite thin and lean, having the body of a runner

Sexuality: Unknown

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Blue

Personality: Matt is what many would call a dedicated individual with slight insecurities relating to self-worth. Being the eldest of 5, there was a lot expected of him, so he's quite harsh against his own mistakes. On a personal level, he's rather friendly and a bit mischievous. Matt doesn't care for authority, but can easily be manipulated into following an order if his reputation is put on the line. Useless is something he NEVER wants to be. Under stress, he can become quite efficient, switching to this mindset of accomplishing the mission first and foremost. Matt is anything but cocky. In fact, he remains mostly silent about his abilities and accomplishments, preferring to let his actions speak for themselves. However, he will call something out when it is absolutely stupid. As a lover, he tends to fall into a tsundere type of character. He's not super touchy or clingy, and won't say when he wants physical affection, but one hug and he's immediately touch starved. When angry, he sort of just goes quiet and isolates himself. He's easy to cry.

Backstory: Unlike normal Scouts, he was taken with his father to go on spying business. Matt was often used as the distraction and the stand in. He was taught how to swoon targets, speak in different accents, and squeeze into tight spaces. All of his siblings used to give him letters about how lucky he was to work with dad, but he didn't share that sentiment. When working with his dad, he was seen as more of an employee than a son. Matt was required to be willing to risk his life for the mission, no matter what. There were a few occasions that he almost did. Eventually, they came to work for Mannco. They offered his father high pay and job benefits that he just couldn't turn down. Matt ended up becoming the team's Scout, but it wasn't anything like they imagined.

The team they were put in had a powerful hierarchy, one he was not in favor of. Matt was constantly breaking the rules and breaking the mold, trying to encourage others to overturn this power imbalance. Od course, nobody was willing to endure the punishments he did. The team's Engineer was over him, replacing a body part with mechanical engineering anytime he stepped out of line. He had both legs, an arm, an eye, and part of his spine. It was painful until all the nerve endings set in. Now, it's just different. He puts synthetic skin over them to convince himself they're organic. One day, his father disappeared, and Matt spent most hours of his day looking for information on why. His searches eventually proved fruitful. The Scout uncovered a door marked "Classified". Using a gun, he broke off the lock and searched through the files. The minute he touched the file cabinet, an alarm went off. Matt tried to escape, but he was shot down by a teammate, his respawn being switched off. Unfortunately, it was too late to activate, stopping Matt one second before respawning, leaving him stuck in stasis.

One day, the respawn miraculously pushed him through, leaving a VERY paranoid and disturbed Scout.

Likes: Hot Drinks, Jackets, Comics, Pranks, Storms, Being Up In High Places, Food, Having A Morning Run, Getting Up Early, A Job Well Done, Sweets

Dislikes: Sleeping, Being In Rooms Without Windows (Claustrophohic), Going Through Respawn, Authority, Losing, Being Made Fun Of

Extra: His robotic eye glows when it is analyzing. It is capable of seeing through walls, scanning and viewing items in 3D, detecting heat and heart rates, identifying individuals, planning travel routes before taking them, crosshairs for firing, and how far he is from the objective. It can also turn off the lights.

Has high level skills in acrobatics, parkour, and agility.