#for jim i feel like i got his hair right but not much else
Text
did a few lil trek doodles at work the other day and thought some of yall might like :D
#i'm especially proud of the bones!!!!!!!#for jim i feel like i got his hair right but not much else#and i hardcore need to practice my spock lol#DAMMIT JIM I'M A DOCTOR NOT AN ARTIST#but bones??????#somehow i think i nailed him???????#like that is him. that is my man leonard bones mccoy#grumpy old man doctor#i love him#OH MY GOD WAIT#ANOTHER TIME TRAVELING OLD MAN DOCTOR BLORBO#ahh well but he's not exactly eccentric. more jaded#OKAY ANYWAYS. time to tag this bad boy#bones mccoy#leonard mccoy#leonard bones mccoy#doctor mccoy#dr mccoy#dr leonard mccoy#star trek: the original series#star trek: tos#star trek tos#star trek the original series#tos#star trek fanart#tos fanart#star trek#enjoy :)#my art
32 notes
·
View notes
Note
what were everyone’s reactions to el telling the fam that lovie was pregnant ?
i decided to use this ask as a gateway for a joint blurb post on how everyone found out so…
Luke was the first one to find out, which they tried to hide for as long as possible, because they really wanted to tell him with everyone else, but he found out on accident.
because it’s Lovie’s second pregnancy, her bump appears faster than it did in her pregnancy with El, so beginning to mid october, when she’s 3 months, her belly has already popped, but it’s small enough that she can hide it by wearing Jack’s shirts around the house and not wearing tight fitting clothing. which keeps Luke oblivious. until….
**
i sit at the end of the bed, sweatpants and a sports bra adorning my figure, showing off my 3 month baby bump.
my eyes track my husband as he gets ready for morning practice. it’s still too early for El to be up, but i can hear Luke clashing around the house, getting his gear together.
Jack crouches down in front of me, his warm hand pressing against the side of my belly. he leans forward, leaving a soft kiss on my bump, and my heart flutters at his gentle touches.
“love, you gotta finish getting ready for practice. Luke has knocked on the door twice now.” i remind him, running a hand through his wavy hair.
“i don’t wanna leave.” he groans, standing from his spot at the end of the bed. he holds a hand out for me to latch onto, pulling me up from my sitting position and into his arms.
“you’ll be back in a few hours.” i laugh. “and by the time you get back, El will be awake and bugging me about you.”
Jack chuckles and steps away from me, double checking his gear bag that sits on a chair in the corner of our bedroom.
i rest a hand on my small bump, looking at the full length mirror in front of our bed.
“Jack, let’s g-” the bedroom door swings open, and through the mirror, my eyes lock with Luke’s which widen at the sight of me and begin to flicker between me, my stomach, and his brother.
“what the fuck, Luke?” Jack huffs, moving to step in front of me, as if it’ll erase the sight of my protruding baby bump from his younger sibling’s mind.
“what the fuck, me? what the fuck, you!” Luke exclaims, pointing at his brother with a face of shock. “Lovie, you’re pregnant? does mom know?”
“Luke, we’re married adults that already have one kid, mom doesn’t need to know everything.” Jack reminds him, rolling his eyes.
“so, no?” Luke raises an eyebrow, and i take this as my time to step in.
“Momma doesn’t know yet, Lukey. we plan on telling her, Dad, and Quinn on the trip to Vancouver at the end of this month.” i explain, stepping out from behind Jack, to show myself to brother-in-law.
“we were gonna tell you there too, but you don’t know how to knock.” Jack scoffs and i reach back to smack his chest, making him pout.
“was this one planned?” Luke eyes my bump warily, as if at any moment the baby could just pop out.
“yeah.” i nod. “we’ve always talked about having our kids 2 years apart, like you guys, and with El’s second birthday in March, we knew we should start trying. we didn’t expect it to happen on the first try though.”
Luke’s face contorts, his lip spreading in a wide smile, and he steps forward, pulling me into a tight hug.
“congratulations, you guys.”
“thank you, bubba.” i pull back, watching as Luke claps my husband on the back.
“how far along are you?” he asks, poking my bump with an index finger. Jack swats his hand away from my belly, rolling his eyes again.
“14 weeks. so, 3 months.”
Luke’s eyes get wide again.
“oh gross, you guys! my bedroom at the lake house was right next to yours.”
**
Jack and Lovie’s plan to tell Ellen, Jim, and Quinn pretty much blew up in their faces once they got to Quinn’s apartment though.
**
i wrap my coat further around myself in attempt to hide my growing baby bump. 4 months along and i’m already feeling like i’ll be back the waddling instead of walking any day now.
Jack holds El on his hip, letting her watch the glowing little elevator light that tells you which floors you’re on; finding amusement in her entertainment.
the elevator stops at the 10th floor and we all pile out. i trail behind my husband and his younger brother as we walk down the hallway, stopping in front of Quinn’s apartment.
it’s not but a moment after Luke knocks that Quinn answers the door, letting us in as he’s mid-talk with his mother.
he hugs Luke first, before moving onto Jack and pressing a kiss to El’s cheek, making her giggle from the scratch of his beard. finally, he gets to me moving in to give me a hug but i bypass him, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek before stepping away.
Quinn’s brows furrow, his nose scrunching in confusion as he eyes me while his parents join us from the kitchen.
“oh look at my baby!” Ellen calls as she steps in the room.
“mom, i’m not a baby anymore.” Luke huffs, but his mother rolls her eyes.
“i was talking about El.” she shakes her head, opening her arms for a hug from my daughter. Jack sets El down, but all the talk about babies must turn a light on in her head, because as soon as her feet land on the floor, she’s turning to me.
her little hands quickly rise and press against my bump and she calls out “baby!”
the room goes silent, Jack and i exchanging a flustered glance as Luke stares gobsmacked at his niece. Ellen’s eyes go wide as she rises to her full height, clutching Jim’s arm, and Quinn’s jaw goes slack as he look between my husband and my daughters hands.
“what?” Ellen is the first one to speak, a grin on her face.
“mommy, baby!” El shouts, hitting the bottom of my stomach now. i wince, causing Jack to go in full dad mode and scoop our daughter back up.
“what did we say, El? we gotta be gentle with mommy’s tummy.” he scolds, looking straight in her eyes. El pouts, her lips falling in an exaggerated frown, and she hides her face in Jack’s neck.
i can see the guilt in Jack’s eyes at the fact that he’s upset his baby girl, but i don’t a chance to comfort him before Quinn is speaking up.
“you’re pregnant?” he asks, excitedly, making his mother smack at his arm.
“let them say it themselves!” Ellen scolds her eldest son and i giggle.
“i’m pregnant.” i confirm. Ellen squeals, bounding over to wrap me up in a hug.
“oh honey, congratulations!” she pulls away her hands hovering over my bump as she looks up at me for approval. at my nod, her hands drop down to touch my belly, a large smile gracing her lips.
Jim and Quinn say their congrats to Jack before Ellen moves over to her middle son, allowing her husband and eldest to get their turn with me.
“congratulations, hun. can’t wait to spoil the little one.” Jim tells me, wrapping me in a bear hug.
“you already spoil the first one, i think Jack might not be too happy if you spoil this one too.” i laugh, pulling back to let Quinn hug me.
“he’ll get over it.” Jim shrugs, stepping back.
Quinn looks at me with a fond smile first, before his arms wrap around my shoulders, his hand running over the back of my head.
“congratulations, sis.” he whispers in my ear, swaying our bodies back and forth just slightly.
“thank you, Quinny.” i grin, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“this one planned?” he asks as we pull apart.
“why do you guys keep asking that?!” i chuckle, hitting his arm. “yes! this one was planned, you asshole!”
he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “just had to check.”
Jack, Luke, and i shed our coats and the family moves to the living room, sitting all around on Quinn’s furniture.
“so, how far along are you?” Ellen asks excitedly, her fingers drumming together as i dig through my purse for a sonogram picture.
“four months.” Jack tells his mother, watching as her face lights up when i hand her the photo.
“not too long until you know the gender.” Jim chimes in, looking over his wife’s shoulder at the photo.
“that appointment is in a few weeks.” i tell them, smiling as Ellen hands the photo to Quinn, who grins down at the black and white picture.
Ellen looks between me and Jack, who plays peekaboo with the almost two year old that sits on his lap. “oh, i’m just so happy for you two.”
281 notes
·
View notes
Text
Evermore - Part 6
Summary: It’s been 7 years since the love of your life left you behind for his career. When he decides to come back, is it too late to start anew? Will you decide to start over or realize what's been right in front of you this whole time?
18+ Only! MDNI!
Warnings: AFAB reader! Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is given the nickname Peach. Angst/Pining. Drunken behavior.
Word Count: 3K
Masterlist
You had been trying to read a new book all evening, but your mind kept drifting. Worried about Eddie, even when you knew better.
It was around 10 when your phone started to ring, knocking you from your thoughts. You got up from the couch and shuffled to the kitchen where it hung.
Your fingers hesitantly drew it from its cradle on the wall, “Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Jim. Hope I didn’t wake you.” The gruff voice of the older man, sounding a little tired, maybe annoyed.
“Oh, hey Hop. What are you doing up this late? Everything okay?”
He sighed before beginning, as you instinctively held your breath.
“Listen, it’s… uh… Well, it’s Eddie.”
“What’s wrong? Is he ok?” feeling a sense of dread wash over you.
“He’s fine, he’s just drunk.”
You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose between your finger and thumb, closing your eyes. You should have known. Seeing him earlier in the parking lot was sounding the alarm bells that you had ignored.
“Hop, you couldn’t have called literally anyone else?”
“Kid, he’s a mess. And he keeps asking for you. Won’t take no for an answer. Won’t shut up about it.” Now regretful that he bothered you, but he continued, “I didn’t want to call Wayne; I think he’d be too much for him to handle tonight. I’d hate for him to see him like this.”
“Randy kicked him out of the Hideout? Never mind, don’t answer that. You guys still there?” already spying the keys on the counter, ready for a hasty exit.
“Yeah, I’ve got him in the back of the cruiser.”
“I’ll be there in 20,” you hung up. Throwing on some sweats and a hoodie, slipping on some old sneakers as you headed out the door.
Wondering the entire ride over what the hell you were even doing. You should let him spend the night at the station, sleeping his hangover off there and call Wayne in the morning.
But you thought of Wayne. Agreeing with Hop on one thing, you would hate for him to see Eddie in such a state. He’d never been immune to his antics but that was years ago. Being thirty now, you’d think he would know how to conduct himself better, given his profession and scrutiny in the public eye.
You pulled up to the Hideout in record time. Your headlights hit the old Blazer, illuminating Hopper who was standing outside leaning against the old, battered ride, raising a brow as you pulled in beside him.
“Speeding, were we?” Hopper admonished with a sarcastic lilt to his voice, as you got out of the car.
“Not sure what you mean Hop.” Meeting the older man halfway, embracing him in a warm hug.
“Good to see you Kid. Wish it were better circumstances.” You parted as he started toward the back door of the cruiser.
“Think you can handle him like this?” opening the door and pulling Eddie up by the arm.
He grunted and opened his half-lidded eyes as far as they would go. Hair disheveled, bangs sticking up from where he had laid down in the seat while waiting for you to arrive.
“Alright Ed, your ride is here.” He helped him from the car, threatening to teeter forward, you wasted no time reaching out to help steady him, placing a hand to his chest.
He wavered toward your space, and you put yourself under his other arm not being held by Hopper, encircling his waist ensuring you had him held tight. He looked over toward you then, and smiled that big, dimpled grin you used to love.
“Hey Pe…*hiccup* Peach,” he uttered, whiskey and cigarette laced breath wafting toward you.
“Well, at least you’re coherent enough to know who I am.” You huffed and led him toward the waiting vehicle. Hop let go so he could open your door for him to get into the back.
Once he was settled, laid out in the seat, you said your goodbyes to the older man.
“And you sure you’re ok to handle him?” asking one last time, giving you a chance for an out as if you would change your mind at this point.
I’ve dealt with worse.” Nodding toward the Hideout. He knew exactly what you meant.
“Alright kid, if you need anything just let me know.” He patted the roof of the car and took his leave.
Eddie started groaning as soon as you pulled out onto the road, you assumed from the immediate jostling. You knew all too well what that sickly sound usually meant.
“Edward James Munson, I swear to God, I will kill you if you throw up in this car!” you yelled, checking him in the rearview, half obscured from his leaned over position.
His eyes snapped open at that and sat up wavering with the car movement. “Hey Peaaachhh,” he slurred. “I won’t throw up, ok? Scouts honor.” Raising his fingers.
You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. “Yeah, ok Eddie. You we’re never in the Scouts.”
He became quiet again as you made your way back home, not a long drive but seemed longer than usual with his presence. Once you pull into your drive; you turn around expecting him to be passed out but he’s already staring straight at you with an incredulous look.
“What?” you whispered, low enough you thought he didn’t hear in his inebriated state.
“Nothin’ Peach, I just missed ya’,” he smiled again, goofy and warm. Eyes trying to stay focused on yours.
“And you’re drunk” you quipped. “Let’s get you in the house to get a little rest. You’re going to feel like shit in the morning.” Turning then to remove yourself from his space, suddenly feeling too warm, to close to him.
You took a deep breath. Telling yourself you could do this. Just let him sleep it off. It’s no big deal.
You opened the back door thankful he wasn’t close enough to tumble out. He let you help him up and out. He leaned into you and rested his arm atop your shoulders, you wrap your arm around his waist once more as you made your way slowly up to the house, weaving side to side, holding him up the best you could. That scent of cigarettes and leather invading your senses. Trying to push the feelings deep down that the familiar once comforting scent brought you.
He leaned over closer to you, while you tried desperately to get the door unlocked.
“Where’s Stevie boy?” he spoke so close lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, breath fanning your cheek sending a shiver through you.
“He doesn’t live here Eddie.” Answering as you finally pushed opened the door contemplating whether he could make it up the stairs.
Eddie thought about your answer for a moment, quizzical look on his face, tilting his head, smile faltering for a moment. You didn’t have time to decipher it, the matter at hand was trying to get him to the couch in one piece.
He was only getting heavier by the second, feet almost dragging instead of taking full steps. You were weaving your way slowly down the hall, when he suddenly lost his balance, your hold on him wavered but he gripped your arm pulling you along with him toward the wall. His back hit with a thud, earning yet another groan.
Your free hand landed on his chest, effectively catching yourself before your body could completely land on his but leaving little space between the two of you, now facing chest to chest.
“Eddie, come on, it’s only a few more feet.” Patting his chest as he looked toward you, your voice drawing him in.
His doe eyes big and shining. You could almost see the Eddie from years ago looking back at you.
He was warm under your palm. Heart steadily beating there. His eyes flitted to your lips before looking back up, his eyes searching yours for an answer or confirmation. You gave no inclination of resistance.
He tentatively rested his other hand on your hip, fingers gripping slightly as he drew your body closer to his. You didn’t stop him, letting him pull you further into his warmth. Your hand that still rested on his chest began to smooth down the length of his torso letting it come to rest on his side.
He started to bring his face closer to yours, noses almost brushing, eyes falling shut as he was aiming to close the distance.
Your own heart beating rapidly, breath caught in your throat. Standing there for a few more seconds, cheeks heating from the sudden closeness. Closing your own eyes as they began to brim with unshed tears, as if finally came to your senses.
You turned your face from him. His lips brushed your cheek, and he pulled back quickly knowing he missed his mark. Quickly withdrawing his hand and letting his head fall back, as it too made a small thud against the wall.
You tried to ignore the buzz that his lips left in their wake and the lingering warmth where his hand had rested on your hip.
“Come on Eddie,” you broke the uncomfortable silence and helped him straighten back up as he righted himself using the wall as leverage.
Making it over to the couch he practically fell onto the cushions. You could tell his body had started to give up the fight of trying to stay awake with all the alcohol lingering in his system. His body started to tilt sideways, his eyelids starting to droop once more.
“Eddie,” you tried gaining his attention, lightly smacking his cheek, “at least take your shoes off. I don’t want your dirty ass boots making a mess of my couch.” He grunted, but relented and did as he was told, untying them one at a time, letting them hit the floor.
You helped him remove his jacket, struggling to fling it from his shoulders on his own, thrashing. Your face closer to his, but his head was still facing down. The leather finally slid from his arms as he let you take it without protest.
“M’sorry Peach.” He whispered so low you barely heard it. Deciding to ignore him, taking the jacket, and turning instead to go find him a blanket, he halts your movements by lightly grabbing your wrist. Searing warmth in contrast to the cool rings on his fingers.
“M’sorry for everything. I… I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. I never meant to hurt you. I… I know I fucked it all up.” He released you from his gentle grip. His gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer before he finally laid down.
He probably wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning. It would be better that way. You made your way upstairs to the linen closet, grabbing a spare pillow and blanket.
As expected, he had completely passed out by the time you made it back. You laid the pillow beside his head and covered him.
He was lying on his side, face pressed into the couch. His curls were a mess, fanned out against the cushion.
“Oh Eddie,” you whispered, turning to take leave, glancing one last time before heading to your own bed.
So many emotions swam within you. He had tried to kiss you, and you barely turned away. All coherent thoughts in that moment had eluded you. All you were thinking was how much you had missed his touch, his kiss. His everything.
You tossed and turned most of the night.
Waking the next morning, already dreading the journey down the stairs, half expecting him to be gone. He was exactly where you had left him.
Blanket a mess, his waist still covered, but his arms were raised above his head. Feet were kicked out, one sock now missing. Which came as no surprise, he had always been a fussy sleeper.
At some point in the night, he had made use of the pillow. You stared for a few more minutes listening to his deep breaths. Eyes lingering over his sleep mused hair, tangled no doubt. But he looked peaceful, face half hidden behind the locks. You started to brush the hair from his face, but quickly put your hand back down. Another slip up, muscle memory without a thought.
You started the coffee pot, knowing Steve and Maddie would be there soon. You weren’t sure how you were going to explain why Eddie was on your couch, knowing how it looked. You sure as hell weren’t going to mention the almost kiss.
You wouldn’t have long to think about it as you heard the car door. Looking up through the window as he was retrieving Maddie from the back.
“Crap,” you hissed, abruptly putting your mug down, barely missing the warm liquid that sloshed from the side.
You made your way to the front door, meeting them before he pushed it open. He never had to knock, always an open invitation.
“Hey!” you spoke, cutting him off. Blocking the entrance slightly.
“Hi. What’re you…” furrowing his brows as his eyes drifted behind you, spotting the metalhead still passed out on the couch. Something flashed in his eyes you couldn’t quite discern.
“Steve, before you say anything, it’s definitely not what you’re thinking, ok.” You opened the door, bidding them both in. Closing it and following behind as they made their way into the kitchen.
Maddie was still half asleep in his arms. Head on his shoulder. She yawned and opened her eyes slowly taking in her surroundings. Mumbling something then, rubbing her eyes with the back of her small hands. When she spotted you, she reached for you without a second thought, taking her from Steve, as you searched his eyes. He remained uncharacteristically quiet.
She laid her head on your shoulder, pressing further into your neck until she seemingly found a comfortable spot.
“Steve, it’s…” you started.
“It looks like Eddie slept over last night. Yeah?” He said brusquely, a tone he never used with you.
“Yeah,” your voice sounded meek, looking to the floor. “He got drunk at the Hideout. Hop called me. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Right,” he scoffed, turning to put Maddie’s things on the table. Choosing to ignore the sour mood he was in; you aimed your attention toward her instead.
“Hey Baby,” you cooed, rubbing soothing circles to her back. “You want me to make you breakfast?”
“Nuh. Uh,” shaking her head, nuzzling ever closer to you, curls tickling your cheek with each sway of her head.
“Someone sounds grumpy this morning,” Looking back up at Steve, whispering mostly to yourself, “you don’t seem to be the only one.”
His eyes were already on you, seemingly scrutinizing you. Swinging Maddie, a little back and forth, before she lifted her head squirming a bit to be let down. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she scurried off toward the cabinet where you kept the cereal and breakfast bars just for her.
Once she was no longer in direct ear shot, you turned back toward Steve as he spoke up first, pushing himself off the counter he was leaning against to get closer to you.
“Listen, Peach, I’m not sure what this was but, really? You let him stay here after everything you went through?” raising his voice an octave, sounding exasperated. Shaking his head in disbelief, hands on his hips, turning his face toward the ceiling and exhaling a deep breath.
“Steve, I..”
“No, it’s fine.” Cutting you off. “It’s your life and none of my business, right? You can do whatever you want to. Just, uh, don’t let him corrupt my daughter while I’m gone. Okay? You could’ve called me, I would’ve taken her to Rob’s.”
“Don’t do that to me. Don’t act like that.” You stated more forcefully.
Steve rarely showed any anger toward you. He was trying to hold himself back, whether for your sake or Maddie’s, you couldn’t tell.
He looked down at his watch instead of directly addressing you.
“I’ve got to go. I’m running late.” Sighing, letting his arm rest by his side once more as he turned to leave. You knew it was a lie. It was an excuse to get out of your house, away from you.
“Steve, wait.” You caught his arm, tugging him slightly backward. Getting the point, he stopped and turned back around.
“Cut the bullshit and talk to me, I know you aren’t running late. You are the most insufferably punctual human being I have ever known.” Crossing your own arms over your chest now.
He huffed, rolling his eyes at you.
“I’m just disappointed you’d so willingly let him sleep a hangover off here. You owe him nothing. Nothing Y/N!” Shaking his hands toward the living room for emphasis.
“You don’t think I know that, Steven?” Only calling him by his full name when you were annoyed or trying to get under his skin, as he had just spoken yours.
He took a step back, hands back on his hips once more. Nodding his head, as his tongue darted out to lick his lips, biting his lower lip a moment getting ready to lay into you.
You looked around the kitchen then, realizing Maddie wasn’t where you had left her. Cabinet open but abandoned. At some point during the bickering, she snuck away.
You heard muffled voices coming from the living room then. Without another word, you brushed past Steve, bumping his shoulder slightly.
“Real mature” you heard him mutter. You wanted to turn around and argue some more but instead shook your head, ignoring his quip.
Passing the threshold that separated the kitchen from the living room, you spotted Maddie next to Eddie, furrowing her small brows seemingly examining him. Her eyes alight once she spotted you.
“Maddie, baby, there you are.” Eddie’s eyes darted to you, then to Steve hot on your heels.
“Peach! Daddy!” she excitedly squealed, hopping from her perch to join you, taking her hand in yours.
You ignored the confused look Eddie gave the both of you, eyes darting between you and Maddie before you exited the room leaving him to wonder why the hell your daughter had just called you Peach.
Taglist: @josephquinncore @theawkwardbutterfly @munsonmecrazy @jadedhillon @pettydonuts @angelina16torres-blog @justheretoreadleavemealone @heyyimmisunderstood @micheledawn1975 @devilslittlebabyxx @luciferiorbxtch @bebe07011 @yunnie-f1 @akiratoro420 @evansslutt @sheerfreesia007 @tlclick73 @bakugouswh0r3 @vintagehellfire @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @ali-r3n @foreveranexpatsposts @sashaphantomhive
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson fic#steve harrington fic#eddie munson x female reader#steve harrington x female reader#eddie stranger things#evermore#older!eddie#older!steve#dad! steve harrington#evermore wip#evermore part 6
126 notes
·
View notes
Text
Confessions Pt. 1
Warnings: Angst
🫵 @ladysaturnsdust @bloodhaven99 @wyyvernn @konnisart @psybrepunk @heiress-prime @haytham-loves-chocolate @demigoddessqueens @memoriesofafallen @amefuyuu @grandmaster-haytham-kenway @dairsmuids @anli-rambles 🫵
A/n: feels rushed but whatever. Hope you enjoy 🩷
Haytham had been pining over you for weeks, maybe months. You've been friends with him for awhile now, having already known nearly the full extent of what hes gone through, over drinks and vulnerable moments, so he naturally already trusts you. He wanted to make his ever growing feelings known but each time he walked toward you, he panicked, suddenly realizing that you never looked him that way and to ruin such a close, trusting friendship is too hard to bear, so his thoughts were never said aloud.
He hadn’t expected to fall so hard but you filled a part of him he thought he’d lost long ago. You were smart, almost too smart, you could read him when no one else could, you were also inquisitive, eager to learn any and everything. There was also an eye for detail he didn’t have, you could notice a heart shape where he saw nothing. You had a mouth too, you weren’t afraid to speak up if a plan didn’t sound good or if you felt disrespected, the both of you got into arguments because of it but he never got mad, only mildly annoyed. And by gods, you were beautiful. Eyes that seemed to make his heart beat faster when his own met them, hair that made him want to run his hands through, to feel the soft locks run in between his fingers, to smell what shampoo you used and the prettiest lips he wanted to kiss, to feel.
Haytham never loved life, finding it too cold to love but with you, the sky seemed more blue, the trees more green, the flowers and his heart bloomed. No, he would never love life but he would love a life with you, as much as he tried to deny himself such a luxury.
When he had yet another restless night, his sleep filled with nightmares of losing you, dressed simple trousers and a billowy shirt, with his gun on the side. he left his home. He didn’t know where he was going nor did he care but fate somehow lead him to your door. His shaky hand knocked softly, unsure if you were even awake at this point.
‘Well, no going back’ he thought to himself
He waited for you to answer for what seemed like an eternity but was no more than a minute.
“Who is it?” You asked from inside
“It’s just me.” He responded
You opened the door, surprised to see Haytham standing there, looking almost… lost
“Is something wrong, Haytham?” Concern lacing your voice
“No. I… I need to speak with you. Please?” His voice wavered
You let him in without another word, the warmth of you your home inviting compared to the cool night. You were nervous; he looked like he hadn’t slept, his body was slack, hair was down and messy, something clearly wasn’t right.
“Ok, Haytham, cut to the chase, what’s going on?”
“I apologize for disturbing you, I just needed someone to talk to.” He sounded emotional.
Stepping closer, your hand coming to rest on his arm. This wasn’t Templar related was it? You briefly considered grabbing a bottle of ale.
“Y/N… I’m scared.” He finally confessed
“You? Scared? Of what?” You could laugh but he was serious
“You. You scare me, Y/N.”
...Wait, what?! Haytham Edward Kenway? Scared of you?! ‘Am I dreaming?’ You thought
“Why? What did I d-”
“I’m scared of losing you.” He cut you off, his confession knocking the wind out of you. You went to ask why but once again he cut you off
“I have nightmares of losing you; whether it’d be you leaving or dying, I don’t know which is worse. I’ve been so scared to tell you how I feel. You’re my closest friend and I don’t know what’d I do without you.” He paused, taking a deep breath then making eye contact with you.
“Y/N, over these past couple months… I’ve noticed my feelings go from friendship to something deeper. You’ve awaken something long lost in my heart. You’ve been there through finding my sister, losing Jim, Birch, everything. And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t tell you. You have more a soul than I ever could. Not even the gods could compare to you.”
“Haytham…”
“Y/N, I’m in love with you and I’m scared. Scared I’m going to lose this friendship, going to lose you. And I can’t.”
All you could do is stare at him in shock, your face burning. You swore he could hear your heart beating. Suddenly his face fell.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that. I’ll leav-”
“NO! Don’t leave! I-I-” You started but the words couldn’t leave. You had started growing feelings too but never said anything, thinking it would pass but it never did, if anything, they grew. You took a deep breath
“Haytham, I feel the same. You mean the world to me and I’d give anything to not lose you, even if it means not telling you how I feel. You’re such a hardass but I’ve seen the other sides, the softer and vulnerable, it only makes me love you more. And to know that you trust and care about me means the world. Thank you for telling me.”
The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, there was a spark in his eyes you’ve never seen before.
“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” He asked, heart beating out his chest.
“Please…” You responded. Leaning in closer, feeling his body press against yours, his arm coming to wrap around your waist and his other hand coming to cup your face, pulling you toward him. Your hand that held his arm was now wrapped around his neck with your free hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
Haythams lips met your own in a sweet, gentle, tentative kiss. Finally affirming your shared feelings. He felt fireworks go off in his chest, what he imagined your lips to be couldn’t hold a candle to how soft they really were and how perfectly his locked with yours.
Reluctantly, you pulled way, coming to see how dazed and in love he looked. He looked at you like you were the only thing that existed. Suddenly, you found his lips on your again, this time more feverish, desperate to have you and to make up for lost time.
“Stay here, I want you with me.”
“Anything for you.”
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you start working at the hawkin’s police station as a secretary and hopper takes a liking to you against his better judgment. [big ol’ grumpy hopper x smol ray of sunshine]
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jim hopper x fem!reader
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | none – just angst and fluff.
𝐰𝐜 | 2.8k+
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | thought about ending this with smut but i have another idea for a grumpy!hopper x sunshine!reader smut and i didn’t want to make them too similar.
*•.¸♡masterlist *•.¸♡ao3 *•.¸♡twt
It didn’t take Hopper long to notice you when you started working at the Hawkin’s Police Station in the fall of ‘83. In fact, it took no time at all.
Brooding and willfully ignorant to the more personal matters happening around him, Jim Hopper had no idea a new secretary was starting. When he slipped into the station on your first day, nervous to make a good impression, Hopper halted in the same doorway he had been stepping through for years. His eyes were still hazed in sleep and red from a hangover, but that didn’t prevent him from spotting you.
He had only made it a few feet into the station before he froze and turned back around to face the substantially shorter girl smiling brightly up at him.
“Hi,” you said a bit too cheery for such an early time in the morning.
Hopper furrowed his brows as he examined you. His eyes traced along your long dress that clung to your waist and the way your hair was pulled back exposing your neck and collar bones. How was such a sweet thing like you making the chief of police at a loss for words?
Flo had noticed his hesitation so she took it upon herself to prevent the situation from becoming painful and introduced you to him.
He grumbled back what sounded like a hello and went straight to his office.
He had left you feeling a bit pathetic for already making a bad impression on your boss your first day on the job.
Jim made it a point to avoid you as much as possible, treating you just like everyone else: at a distance. This left you frustrated. Why did all your coworkers take a liking to you except for him? Was everyone else just being polite and you were actually insufferable and Hopper just didn’t have it in himself to put up a facade?
Flo told you not to mind him. “He was dealt a terrible set of cards,” she said waving her hands until one settled on your shoulder. “Don’t take it personally, dear. It takes a lot to get him to not act like a giant brute.”
That didn’t make you feel that much better.
It wasn’t until late one night that you realized you had been wrong about Hopper. Usually, Flo stayed late with Hopper, but that night, she had plans to get to. You offered to cover for her. It got close to midnight before Hopper made his way out of his office, his coat and hat on, ready to go home. You watched as he absentmindedly strolled towards you. “Alright Flo, think I’ve taken up enough of your–” He stopped in his tracks when he made it to the front desk and saw you where he expected Flo to be.
You meekly waved at him, hoping he wasn’t going to be mad at you for not being Flo.
He glared at you for a moment, making you gulp. And yet, behind his eyes, he was cursing himself out for being so drawn in to someone so delicate and innocent. He would do nothing but ruin you.
“Flo had a family thing to get to…” you mumbled out nervously, wanting to break the silence. You felt ridiculous for acting so shy around him. You just didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
“Right.” He nodded, snapped out of his thoughts. He continued heading out of the station with you following close behind.
You watched as Hopper made his way to his truck, the sounds of his boots on the pavement echoing in the quiet night.
He opened his driver’s side door when he saw you still standing by the front door out of the corner of his eyes, illuminated by the street light. He paused and shouted back towards you. “What’re doing?”
“Oh,” you said surprised by his booming voice. “I’m just waiting for my ride.” You gave him a smile.
He took a moment, arguing with himself that interacting with you a bit wasn’t going to be the end of the world. Hopper was a grown man; he could control himself. He has talked to plenty of pretty women before. You were no different. At least, that’s what he told himself.
He shut his door and walked back over to you.
You tried not to blush as he came stomping towards you, his eyes locked on yours and his hands slouched in his jacket pockets.
He stood beside you and leaned against a post by the entrance doors, pulling a cigarette out and lighting it.
“Y-You don’t have to wait with me. I’ll be fi—“
“Not gonna leave you here in the middle of the night. Not with everything that’s been goin’ on lately.” His words were stern so you just nodded in acceptance.
Of course you didn’t want to have to wait with him, he thought. But he couldn’t be more wrong.
After a few wordless moments passed when you spoke in a timid voice. “Thank you.”
In all honesty, you were a little worried about having to wait alone for your dad to pick you up so late by yourself. Hopper’s company made you feel… safe.
He peered down at you and blew out a puff of smoke.
“You always this shy?”
You looked up at him wide-eyed, his words catching you off guard. Was it that painfully obvious?
“I– No.. It’s… I don’t know. I guess you just…intimidate me a little…” your words trailed off, worried you were being rude by telling him that.
Hopper felt something shift in his stomach. You were intimidated by him? Fuck, no shit you were. He’s done nothing but lurk over you and bark orders out since you met him almost a month ago.
Usually, bashfulness was not something he would have admired. But, god, if you weren’t a breath of fresh air.
He shifted his stance so he could look at you better, your face flickering in the streetlamp’s light. “Sorry about that, kid. Guess I can be a little… unwelcoming. But I’m glad you’re working here.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “You brighten up the office. And we needed some of that.”
You felt your cheeks red from the cold and smiled. Your heart was racing at his words. You brighten up the office. Maybe he didn’t hate you after all.
It was a stormy night when you realized you were getting feelings for Hopper.
You were sitting at a big booth in a diner right down the street from the station with the rest of your coworkers. You were celebrating Flo’s 30th year working for the Hawkin’s PD.
You stared at the empty plate in front of you, pie crumbs sprinkles across the white ceramic surface. You laughed when you heard something outrageous from Flo’s mouth. How many drinks has she had?
The place was pretty empty apart from your group, so when one of the guys chose a popular song on the jukebox, a mingle of bodies broke out in dance.
You found yourself giggling along as you watched them make a fool of themselves, happy you worked with such great people. Hopper slid into the booth beside you–he needed a seat after having one too many drinks–as he watched the others goof around. You tried to stop yourself from panicking at his close proximity.
Crash
A loud rumble of thunder broke the night air following a flash of light. It sounded like shattering glass as it echoed off the pavement. You jumped and closed your eyes. You were never a big fan of thunder.
Hopper looked over at you and raised an eyebrow. He was about to make a joke about you being scared when another crash sounded. This time, Jim’s arm wrapped around you and pulled you into the side of his chest. “You’re okay,” he muttered. You tilted your head to look at him but he was already looking away, busy saying something to someone else across the table. You could feel the rumble as he laughed. You felt your cheeks heat up, Hopper’s hand resting firmly on your upper arm.
After a few moments, Hopper unhooked his arm. He could see the way your body tensed again as another thunderous explosion rang through the air. His hand stretched out and rested on top of your own that sat in your lap, wanting to calm you. He would never had done that if it wasn’t for his high blood alcohol level.
You tried to play it cool, but you felt your heart flip when he absentmindedly started rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.
Hopper found himself flexing his hand late into the night when he subconsciously remembered the feeling of your skin against his.
Then there was the whole crazy alien encounter bullshit going on in Hawkin’s. Weird shit was happening all the time. The little boy who went missing then came back to life. The monsters in the wall. You had been in the heart of it along with Jim, somehow being the one wrapped up in this mess.
You followed him closely as you walked through the woods, the only light source coming from the moon and Jim’s flashlight. He reached his hand out behind him. “C’mon.”
You took his hand and his fingers wrapped around yours, pulling you along behind him. You tried to not think about the way his hand engulfed yours.
A bit later in the night, when what sounded like a large dog growling, you jumped and went running towards Hopper.
“What is it?” He asked concerned as you came darting towards him. You looked over your shoulder, making sure no monster was chasing you, and you collided with Hopper’s body, making him stumble against a tree root and fall backwards.
He caught you on top of him as you both tumbled to the ground.
Your breathing was loud as he clung on to your arms. You looked down at him, your hair hanging above his face and tickling his cheeks.
“What?” He asked again, his voice laced with concern.
“Thought I heard somethin’,” You whined.
You gulped when you realized how close you were to him, your body laid against his, your knees holding you up on either side of him. You had thought he fully noticed at the same time you did. You could have sworn his cheeks began to pink. He felt his breathing break as he felt your weight against him. God, he wanted so badly to reach out and touch your cheek. He wanted to pull you in to him and–
Shit, shit, shit. This was not good.
Your lips parted as you stared at one another until Hopper broke the moment by pushing you up as he got to his feet.
“You okay?” He asked as he straightened himself out. You nodded, unable to look at him for fear he might be able to read everything you were thinking.
And then the day Jim was tormented with the idea of asking you out. He tried to push down this rising feeling he had for you, but with each interaction, it grew stronger. The sugar laced in your words. The way you would laugh and smile all the time. You were everything Jim wasn’t.
He figured you’d be disgusted if you knew the way the chief thought about you. What would a pretty young thing like you want with a big old grump like him?
And still, he found himself staring at you all the time. Where was his self-control?
Sometimes he’d walk into the main room at the station and lean against the door frame as he talked to one of the guys. But his eyes would drift over to you while you stood at the front on the phone.
And a few times when you had handed Hopper some files, your fingers brushed against one another and it felt like his skin was burning. He could have sworn he saw your arms get goosebumps.
And then that one time he was busy yelling at some drunk asshole, his hands gripping the man’s shirt and moving him around like he weighed nothing. He looked over at you and your face was bright red as you watched him in action. He felt something tingle in his stomach.
So, he got this stupid idea to ask you out. But he was never going to act on this thought. It was simply an idea. An unattainable figment of his imagination. Something he just liked to imagine, thinking about what it would be like if he did ask you out and you had said yes.
Then, late one night, only a few stragglers left in the office, you appeared in his doorway while he scribbled on sheets laid on desk.
“I’m heading out for the night,” you said sheepishly.
He glanced up at you and gave a half-hearted grin then looked back at his papers. You rolled your eyes. “You really should call it a night, Chief. You can’t keep working these 12-hour days.”
“You’re starting to sound like Flo,” he chuckled.
“Well, I am around her enough.”
He put his pen down and looked back up at you. “You’re probably right.”
“I know, I’m always right.”
“Don’t act smart,” he grunted as he slowly stood and slid his coat on. You tried to hide your grin as he walked behind you out of the station.
You were going to make the first move and ask him to get coffee. It might end in humiliation, but if he rejected you, maybe you could play it off like you meant just as friends. It was definitely a bad idea, but you couldn’t get this man out of your fucking head.
When you slipped into the brisk Autumn air, you took in a deep breath and turned around, “Hopper, I wanted—“ You were cut off when he bumped into you. You hadn’t realized he was so close behind you. You froze and looked up at him. He knew he should have backed away immediately after colliding with you, giving space between your bodies, but you drew him in, your soft eyes capturing his. You felt your breath get caught in the back of your throat.
“What were you saying?” He asked quiet and breathy, his eyes never breaking from yours.
You stuttered, “Oh. I-I…” You found yourself at a loss for words, unable to finish your sentence from earlier. You couldn’t even remember what you were thinking.
It felt like your heads were slowly leaning into one another, and neither of you seemed to be able to stop yourself.
Then, as crazy as it sounded to you, suddenly his hand was on the side of your cheek and you gasped at the contact. “Hop…” you began, but your words faded again as your eyes fluttered, his thumb stroking your jaw.
He crashed his lips against yours and you immediately reciprocated. Maybe a little too eagerly you went onto your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you in, his hands dropping to your waist. You felt his tongue slide along your lower lip and your lips parted. You pushed yourself against him making him stumble backwards, your kiss never breaking. You heard a rumble in his chest as you pressed your body flesh against him, his internal furnace making you heat up like you were on fire. You attacked each other feverishly, months of pent up longing finally escaping through this act of touch. He couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted. Hopper felt himself holding back–he wanted nothing more than to slam you against the side of the building and take you right there. God, he wanted you so fucking bad.
The sound of someone coming made you both abruptly pull away.
You stood beside him trying to look casual as you both caught your breath.
Hopper was about to turn to you and apologize, his mind was telling him you only kissed him back because he was your boss and you didn’t want to reject the person who controlled your paycheck. But then your sweet voice, quiet and breathless, sounded before he had the chance. “Did you want to get a coffee or something?”
He looked at you and furrowed his brows. You shrugged your shoulders and he felt a smile rise to his mouth. You were impossibly gentle as you spoke, your words sugary like candy, the complete opposite to him. And, fuck, did he have a sweet tooth.
#jim hopper#hopper#jim hopper oneshot#jim hopper fanfic#stranger things#hopper st4#chief jim hopper#chief hopper#jim hopper x reader#insert fic#hopper x reader#stranger things hopper#jim hopper fluff#fluff#angst#jim hopper angst#stranger things fluff
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
A short Slimav story. Kissing and touching and ravishing Sli’s big tiddies on the couch on a cold day because they are gay and happy. Set somewhere in the early 90s—the same universe as my longfic. Enjoy!
Winter has come in Miramar. The day is shortening and the temperature is dropping. Don’t forget to bundle up, check your tires just in case—the vigorous DJ says on the radio as Maverick tosses beneath the blanket for the thirtieth time.
Maverick never handles the cold too well. This winter is no exception, even though Slide insists it’s really not that bad. It’s cold, sure, this year’s relatively chilly by the San Diego standard they’re both used to, but not I-get-my-shit-done-in-a-blanket-don’t-judge-me level cold.
Well, whatever he says, Maverick thinks in a somewhat groggy state after sleeping in. That bastard spent a considerable amount of time at his nana’s place in New York, for God’s sake.
Crawling back under the cozy fort, he curls himself and indulges in the snugness of the velvety fabric. The comfort of the couch, combined with the radiating heat of Slider’s body, is nothing but pleasantly addicting, more so on a chilly Sunday like this.
“Hey, Froggy.” A soft, amused tenor calls him. “Freezing much?”
Froggy.
Maverick never handles the cold too well. If one thing that entertains Slider in this frigid weather, that would be teasing his boyfriend for his very amphibian antics.
He peeks his head from the blanket and loops his arms around Slider’s torso. The sleeves of his lightweight sweater are rolled up below his elbows. The material is pretty tight-fitting as far as he can feel on his hands, hugging his toned physique in all the right places.
“Should I say yes?” Maverick mutters. “Or should I just accept my fate and say…hi-ho!”
“What? Kermit?”
“Who else am I supposed to be, jackass?” Maverick pouts, throwing his arms in the air. “Hi-ho! It’s Kermit the Frog here, little Ronnie.”
“Sounds like a strangled car horn right there, huh?” Slider smirks. “But sure, Froggy.”
Froggy. Jim Henson-esque.
Maverick shifts under the cover, snuggling Slider’s stomach.
“Haven’t got to practice much lately.”
“Mm-hm.”
“I used to.” His voice trails off before it turns into a small sigh. “But Bradley’s all grown up for Sesame Street lately, y’know.”
He relaxes in Slider’s lap as he strokes his head, playing with the short strands of his brunette hair. He likes it when his big hand caresses him like this, always so gentle and soothing.
Maverick slips in his fingers under Slider’s sweater, playfully pulling it up to reveal a part of his tanned skin underneath.
“Pete?” Slider whispers. “What are you—oh.”
Maverick hikes up Slider’s sweater just high enough to bare his muscled chest. His fingers trail on the toned abs, tracing and rubbing every curve as his hands move up to his sternum. His touch is no more than a light brush over his skin, but it is enough for the taller man to jolt. He drapes himself over Slider’s body and wallows in the warmth that feels so encompassing against his skin.
A small moan escapes his lips as Maverick’s cold hands brush against his chest, adding a good amount of friction to his sensitive nipples. He gently sucks the tips, drawing a small, sensual gasp from his robust lover beneath. The contrast between his tanned complexion and the dark gray sweater is what hooks him. The nasal moan Slider sometimes lets out under him adds to the eroticism—and a sense of satisfaction, that he is the one who’s making Slider melt under his touch, that he is the only one at this moment who’s allowed to devour every part of his man.
“All warmed up, weakass?”
If there’s anything to please Maverick more, it’s the daring flame in Slider’s outwardly nonchalant gaze. An invitation he knows he could never resist.
“Bullshit.” He laughs, placing another gentle kiss on Slider’s forehead. “Not enough yet, sweetheart.”
A soft grin paints Slider’s sharp features.
“Do you wanna hear something funny, Froggy?”
“What?”
Slider throws his arms over Maverick’s neck, tugging him by the shiny strands of his short brunette hair.
“I don’t hate this.”
A kiss on his temple. A kiss on his earlobe. And—God, those swollen lips on him—pink, puffy, and wet, parted slightly, tempting him with their unmistakable softness against his flushed skin.
“Yeah,” Maverick whispers into the hollow of Slider’s neck. “How strange, is it?”
Slider loops one of his legs around the brunette’s hip, drawing him closer. His sweater is left hiked up, revealing just enough skin for Maverick to taste and wallow in the healthy yet sinful beauty of his toned chest.
“Mind warming up a poor froggy, darling?” Maverick grins.
“Shut up and show me what you’ve got, Kermie.”
#slimav#slider x maverick#top gun fanfiction#top gun 1986#ron slider kerner#pete maverick mitchell#ao3 writer#Mav and his big tiddy bro bf#originally intended as a ch 4 of my longfic but I abandoned it because it didn’t really fit the vibes#slice of life#lil snipet of Sli and Mav’s idiot adventures#and they have gay sex because they are gay
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 12
Part twelve of the fourth crossover with @whumpsday!
Call me a silverware drawer the way I have all these spoons for writing rn
K&J masterlist
MMSS masterlist
K&J x MMSS crossover masterlist
To be added to the taglist, contact @whumpsday
Warnings: Aftermath of torture
In this chapter:
Valen checks what time it is when they wake up. Close to morning, and sunrise. He slips back into bed and plants light kisses up Jim's neck. "Good morning, sleepy peepy."
Jim jolts almost violently at the feeling of a mouth on his neck, then relaxes when he realizes it's just Valen.
"Shit. Sorry." He's been able to enjoy neck kisses from Valen for the last couple years without issue, but he's been extra jumpy lately with Kane's return. He kisses Valen on the cheek. "Just got a little startled." He's definitely not a sleepy peepy anymore.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." He runs his fingers through Jim's hair. "How's your hangover?"
"Bleh. I've had worse, though." He snuggles against Valen. "You're going tonight?"
"Yes, I missed my window to go last night, but we should be fine to wait. What about you, are you still going to the shops?"
"Yeah, I am." Jim's stomach turns at the thought of being left alone with Kane again, even with their positions reversed. His fingers brush over the side of Valen's neck. "Just, just make sure you come back okay. Like always."
"I will. I'll go straight there and come right back." He stretches and yawns. "Kane is locked in the basement if you'd like to check in on him. Want me to start breakfast for you?" Valen occasionally tries to cook human food, and he enjoys doing it, and it inevitably comes out tasting very weird each time. He's not as bad at cooking as he is at driving, but it's close.
Jim likes Valen's weird cooking even when it sucks. It's the thought that counts. He's sometimes better than Liz, though that's not saying much. And besides, interacting with Kane without Valen always there is something he'll have to get used to if they're living together again.
"Yeah, thanks, that'd be great. Surprise me." Jim gives Valen a kiss before getting out of bed to let Kane up.
Valen goes to the kitchen and starts making an omelet. He cracks a few eggs into the pan, but then can't quite remember what all goes in an omelet. Try as he might, no matter how many times he watches Jim cook, he just can't remember which ingredients go together. Cooking seems to require an innate sense of human taste that he just does not have. He would have thought that just through sheer rote memorization he would have been able to do it, and yet...
He puts in a bell pepper (stem and seeds and all), some cheese, and some bacon in with the eggs. He's fairly certain about those ones, as well as garlic and black pepper, which seem to go on everything. He then gets some bread, before remembering the bread just gets heated up and served on the side of eggs, not in them. He pops two slices in the microwave. What else? Pickles and condiments go on sandwiches sometimes, so he throws the pickles in the pan, folds the omelet closed, and then squirts ketchup and mustard on top before putting it on a plate. He then takes the bread out of the microwave, which is at this point slightly soggy and limp and steaming, and puts it next to the eggs. There, it has protein, carbohydrates, fiber. That seems like a good mix. He puts an orange on the plate as well, then sets it on the kitchen table. "All right, Jim, you can come eat when you're ready!"
Jim comes up with Kane shuffling behind. Kane's starting to get a little less scared: while he's still having trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that Jim wouldn't want revenge, he hasn't been hurt so far, and Valen seems willing to protect him. Kane also looks a lot better, hardly a sign of injury left on him. He smiles at Valen when he sees him, sitting at the kitchen table. "Good morning."
Jim sits too, examining the omelet. He takes a bite. It's interesting, weird but not that bad. "Thanks, I love it."
Valen beams, clapping his hands. "Wonderful, I'm so glad. Kane, you look well this morning. Have you ever cooked human food before? It's one of the trickier things I've done. I would have thought my background in the sciences would aid me, but it appears relatively useless."
"Oh god." Jim comments. He does not think Kane would do very well at it.
"I haven't. You made that? And it's good?" Kane asks. He would like to feed Jim. It feels... appropriate. "Can I learn?"
"Well, I can't speak for Jim, but I can show you how I do it. Which is probably not exactly correct, but appears close enough." His eyes flick over to Jim as the human bites into a piece of omelet that has bell pepper stem in it. "It's probably about as passable as human food as the blood I make is as passable as blood." He smirks. "Given the right equipment, I can manufacture substandard yet sufficient meals for either a human or vampire. I should be featured on some sort of cooking program!"
Jim laughs through his mouthful. "That would be amazing. You're so right." He spits the stem out like an olive pit. "Kane, you could use a cookbook before you start experimenting, if you really wanna learn. Prolly best to get the basics down first." Jim finishes his omelet and orange happily, and his bread with a little less enthusiasm.
"Alright. Kane, I'm gonna grab you some clothes, a toothbrush, basic stuff. Anything specific you need?" Jim asks.
"No, that's, that's great. Thank you."
"Okay, later." Jim gives Valen a kiss on the cheek before heading out. Before Jim leaves, Valen pulls him aside and politely tells him that although Kane loathes to ask for anything out of fear, Valen has noticed that he seems to prefer long-sleeves and long pants, to cover his skin up.
Once they’re finally alone, Kane tentatively asks, "You're really... together? With a human?"
Valen smiles at the question, blushing. "Yes, I am. Most vampires already consider me a sexual deviant, so I figure, might as well go all in."
"Huh." The concept is still a little odd to Kane, though not as odd as he supposes it should seem. "I suppose there's a little hope for us all, then. If a vampire and a human can fall in love."
Valen smiles so, so wide. That's such a romantic notion, and Valen didn't even have to say it himself and then be embarrassed about it. "I suppose so. Have you ever fallen in love?"
"No, I'm not the romantic type." It's better this way. No one would ever possibly like him back, he'd only experience heartbreak if he were to fall in love with someone. "What's it like?"
Valen's eyes go distant, his expression warm, his mind fuzzy and elsewhere. "It feels warm. It's difficult to describe without resorting to meaningless fluffy metaphors, but it feels like someone is finally on your side. Like you've discovered something rare and precious and all you can think about is how to keep it safe for as long as you can, and how lucky you are that the stars aligned in such a way that you get to enjoy a little corner of life that you've made for a while, in the huge vastness of the cosmos. It's on your mind all the time, like a worry, but it makes you feel better instead of worse."
"It sounds beautiful. I'm glad you've found that with him. As long as you can." Kane says softly. Valen has to be aware of humans' short lifespans. He's probably thought about it a lot. There is no spending your life together with a human. He's a ticking time bomb to heartbreak. Jim has to be, what, a third of the way through his life? More? He can't help but pity Valen.
Valen nods. "Yes, for however long it lasts. I'm quite reminded of how heartbroken I was when my first cat died. It will surely be painful in the end, but that doesn't make the happiness and love we share while we have it worth less. I'm sure love is not so rare that Jim is the only person I can experience it with, nor me with him.'
"Yes, I'm sure." Kane decides to change the bleak subject, picking absentmindedly at the padding on his cuffs. "You're going to vampire territory tonight?" He's glad there will be more blood available, but nervous to be away from Valen's protection.
"Yes, I'm planning on going straight there and back. I'm going to advise Jim to simply keep you in the basement unbothered until I return, as I think that will be safest for all of us."
"Yes, that, that sounds good." Kane can't fuck up if he's just left alone. In his wonderful blanket nest in the nice, sunless basement. His new favorite place on earth.
Valen can just go home, back to vampire territory, anytime he wants. It's strange to be captive in the presence of a free vampire.
Jim comes home with a week's worth of clothes, all long sleeves and pants that Kane can use to cover himself, and a few other basic items. Kane is overwhelmed by the gift, clutching the bag to his chest.
It's so nice here. If Kane could live like this forever, he could be happy, captive or not. He's fed and unhurt. That's all he needs.
"Thank you. Thank you so much. I know it's still... undecided, what the two of you would like to do with me. Um, I would do anything to stay here. Anything. Please."
Valen looks unsurely to Jim. "Well," he says hesitantly. "I don't think Jim has plans to send you away or anything. We're not going to let you go, on account of the risk, no matter how small....and we're certainly not going to give you back to those dreadful hunters. I'd count myself lucky if none of us ever saw them again."
Kane is immensely relieved by Valen's words. He looks to Jim for confirmation.
"Yeah. You're staying. And no matter what, never going back there."
Kane puts his face in his hands. "Thank you. I don't know how I could ever repay you."
"Just keep bein' nice is all." Jim says.
"What they did to you was wrong," Valen says firmly. "To be clear. It would have been wrong no matter who you were. Under no circumstances would it be right to leave you there, knowing what they were doing to you. Even if you weren't 'nice.' It's nice of you to want to 'repay' us, but it's just basic decency. Same as how I had to save Jim, when he was out alone and vulnerable."
"Exactly. Even if you started being a shithead again, we wouldn't send you back there." Jim agrees.
Kane doesn't really get it. He did deserve it, didn't he? They're just kind enough to save him anyway.
"Yes. Decency." he agrees. Maybe he'll understand one day.
***
@barebarb
@cc1010foxy
@emcscared-whumps
@gt-daboss
@hurtpluscomfort
@jakersdaboss
@lolrpop
@melancholy-in-the-morning
@pigeonwhumps
@secretwhumplair
@some-thrilling-heroics
@starfields08000
@t0rture-me
@thecyrulik
@thejinglingcourtjester
@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff
@whuarri
@whump-cravings
@whump-my-heart-away
@whumpycries
@wolfeyedwitch
@whump-addict
@why-not-ask-me-a-better-question
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Jimtober 2023: Dawn
Here's what I got done for Jimtober! It's not very long, but eh.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/50540605
Orange light filters in through thin satin curtains, giving the room a warm glow. Outside, Jim can hear the calls of early morning birds, the first signs of life greeting the new day.
He should still be asleep – they had a late night celebrating his birthday, having stopped over Arcadia so he could see his mom and they could all go out for drinks and a good time. They hadn’t returned home until the wee hours of the morning, those ungodly hours in the darkest part of the night when sane individuals are long asleep in their beds, when the nocturnal animals are all out to play and the world seems suspended and unreal. They had stumbled into Castle Camelot drunk on alcohol and partying alike and subsequently collapsed, though some made it further than others. He’s pretty sure Douxie’s still in the entrance hall, everyone else having been too drunk to move the sloshed wizard after he passed out, and he doubts anyone has woken and done so yet. He and Claire were part of the few who had managed to make it to their own rooms, and they were up a while later before finally falling asleep long past their bedtime. But despite that, here he is, awake. He can’t say for sure why – one moment, he was asleep, and the next, he was awake, like someone had flipped his on-switch, far different from his usual groggy stirring into consciousness.
His gaze sweeps across the still room. Clothes are strewn across the floor, mostly from last night, and half the stuff that sits atop their dresser has been knocked over – he has a vague memory of nearly wiping out by falling into it while trying to rid himself of his pants. This includes some of Claire’s nail polish – all bottles thankfully still intact and sealed as far as he can tell from his vantage point – as well as a book he’s been reading as suggested to him by Toby, one of Krel’s trinkets he made as a gift for Jim last Christmas that Jim still can’t figure out, and the big group picture they’d taken during their ‘The World Didn’t End!’ party four years ago after they defeated the Order.
It's hard to believe that happened that long ago if he’s being honest. The memories are all still so fresh and vivid. He can still feel the heat of the Fire Titan and hear Bellroc’s dual-tone voice. He can still feel the fear and that heady, intoxicating relief when they realized that it was truly and finally over and they had all miraculously made it out on the other side. He can still see the Ice Titan reforming despite their efforts and Claire’s hair turning white as she cast the spell to move the Life Titan.
There’s a soft snuffle beside him, drawing him from his thoughts.
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear – though Claire is much better, in his opinion. She’s sound asleep next to him, pressed to his side with her head tucked against his shoulder and chest, cutting off the blood flow and making his right arm feel more like static than an arm. Her white hair – with small sections of brown still remaining – spills over his arm and across the pillow, now much, much longer than it had been back in high school. Dark eyelashes flutter as she readjusts herself just ever so slightly before settling back into perfect quietness. He can’t help but marvel at how beautiful she is – the curve of her cheekbones, the gentle slant of her jaw, the shape of her nose and lips. He could happily spend forever just staring, meticulously memorizing each and every inch of her tan skin and her bright hair and her dark eyes over and over again.
He slowly works to wiggle his fingers and restore some feeling so that he can curl his arm around her bare shoulders and hold her closer.
Between the curtains, a single ray of brilliant sunlight shines through, the star finally emerging from beyond the eastern horizon.
With the way it lights up her face and lays in a warm strip across his skin, he can’t help but think back to the day he was turned human again.
There were so many emotions and so much confusion, but Claire stood before him to light up the darkness and bring him back into reality, and he knew the moment their eyes connected that he would be ok. He couldn’t say how long it might take, how long he would be disoriented, how long the fog in his mind would sit heavy, how long the exhaustion in his bones would weigh him down, but he knew he would be ok. Every day, he counts his lucky stars that he has her.
That he has everyone, really. He cannot imagine where he might be if even a single one of his friends was removed from the equation, he doesn’t want to imagine it.
He feels Claire shift a little more, and looking, he sees her brow scrunch in an obvious tell that she’s waking up.
She opens her eyes, doing her best to blink the sleep away, and a warmth bubbles up inside him at the sight of her sleepy gaze, intensified by the deep brown of her irises.
“Morning,” she greets with a hum, nuzzling further into his chest.
“Morning.”
“What time is it?” she asks.
“Far too early for either of us to be awake,” he says. Especially after last night.
“Mmm. So why are you already awake, then?” she asks.
“Beats me,” he says.
More sunlight spills into their room, and Claire’s eyes turn from dark chocolate to warm liquid caramel. She smiles sweetly at him, and his heart swells in his chest. She brings a hand up to lovingly brush a piece of hair from his face and then trails down to caress his chess and settles to cup his jaw.
He all but blurts out, “I love you,” the feeling too big to possibly contain.
“I know,” she says, her smile turning cheeky.
“Ok, Han Solo,” Jim teases.
“You and I both know I’m Princess Leia,” she says. “Now, how about we go back to sleep, hm?”
He nods, and her hand slips from his face to settle atop his chest as she nuzzles back down, closing her eyes once more with a content sigh.
His mind goes to the velvet box sitting at the bottom of one of his coat pockets, inside of which can be found a ring wrought from sterling silver and studded with a violet diamond he cut himself with the guidance of Blinky.
He thinks about late nights like last night, falling into each other’s arms. He thinks about early mornings like this one, sleepy in the newborn sunlight. He thinks about that being every night and every morning, getting to have this every day of his life.
He can’t wait.
29 notes
·
View notes
Note
Identity porn college au you say 👀👀 also ;) ;) 👉👉 Bad Days 😳
💖💖💖 glad to see you active again my friend
glad to be active again!! I have a bunch of health stuff going on that's really pulled my focus from writing much of anything, but it's nice to just let myself think about fun stuff again 💖
I'm putting this under a read more cause this got LONG
YEAHHHHH IDENTITY PORN COLLEGE AU!!! I have a snippet for that one!! A nice, long snippet:
It all went wrong right before Tim had his coffee, because that was always when everything went wrong.
He had just picked it up off the counter, rolling his eyes at the name on the cup. Jim.
Whatever, it was his. It wasn’t like anyone else was ordering a large red-eye with two extra shots. He lifted it to take his first sip and turned—
Broad shoulders, scar on the neck, white streak in the hair, angry green eyes—check, check, check. And check.
“Jason.” Tim’s voice cracked mortifyingly on the word. “Hi,” he added, before he finally managed to force his mouth shut.
One thick eyebrow raised at him.
“What's up?” he asked delicately. He didn’t want to have a very public interaction with Jason here, because they would draw attention and someone would realize he wasn’t Jim, but Tim, Tim Wayne, and then this would be in a tabloid.
But apparently, Jason wasn’t interested in having a very public interaction. Apparently he wasn’t interested in having any sort of interaction with him at all.
He didn’t know why he expected Jason to resume talking to him now. Being ignored by Jason was easy. Seeing his anger, the way it twisted in his eyes when they used to be pliant and soft, felt worse.
Tim just sighed, deflating as the air left him. “Right.” It had been for the best, he reminded himself. “I’ve gotta go.”
“As always,” Jason drawled. Tim’s eyes snapped back to Jason’s, and he looked vicious, but a little hurt under it.
basically, the premise is that they meet in college and then start dating, and then they break up because Jason knows that Tim is lying to him about why he's constantly disappearing in the middle of dates, etc. etc. He basically tells Tim the last time that he can either tell him why he's leaving in the middle of the date, or he can not come back. So he doesn't come back. Then Red Hood and Red Robin start hooking up because both of them are looking for outlets, and it's a casual/antagonistic thing until Red Hood ends up taking Red Robin to one of his safehouses after an injury... that Tim had been to for a date with Jason. And of course from there it all spirals! 💚
and now for your snippet of Bad Days. A nice long one for being so patient with me:
“I don’t even know why you and Tim like this crap,” Jason grumbles as he tosses the controller on the coffee table.
“It’s more fun when you’re evenly matched. You should see Tim play against Bart, he loses his shit.”
“Tim says he cheats,” Jason mutters as he turns a suspicious eye on Kon.
“Only if having superpowers you can’t shut off is considered cheating.”
Jason narrows his eyes at Kon.
“You’d know if I was using my TTK on you, Jason.”
“Would I?”
“Oh... yeah, I guess not. I don’t think I’ve ever used it on you.”
Jason’s face goes a little surprised, and Kon’s stomach sinks.
“You don’t think?”
“I… can’t always control it. Not like, I can’t get it to work or anything, but sometimes it has a mind of its own when I’m relaxed. Especially when I’m sleeping.”
“What does it feel like?”
“I don’t actually know. Tim says it feels like a hand sometimes, though.”
“Show me?”
Kon’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment, before he forces them back down.
“Oh, uh—”
Kon takes a second to put down the controller, then he places his hand on Jason's forearm.
For a split second, he isn’t sure what he plans to do, but he relaxes the part of him that has his power held back. It’s a little like noticing his jaw is clenched and forcing the muscle to loosen.
In the second he relaxes his hold, he feels his TTK reach out, and he watches as Jason’s face turns towards Kon, slowly, like he’s being tilted by a hand on his chin.
“Oh,” Jason says softly, and Kon feels a flare of heat across his cheeks.
Thank you for the ask!!! 💚💚💚
send me an ask about one of my WIPs!
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
This is me humbly requesting some Jimmy and Joel/Grian interactions from your dance floor au🙏
Additionally I would kill for a d&d au that genuinely sounds so fun as someone who played dnd years ago (unf the group was not fun to play with, I feel bad for our dm)
hungry busy people
also on AO3
sequel to let's ditch the dance floor
(4048 words)
“Friday night,” Joel sarcastically cheers, under his breath. “Living the dream," Jimmy refuses to pay attention to him. He’s got his planner, his Google Calendar, and all his course websites open in front of him, but he still feels like he’s forgetting something. He goes down this weekend's to do list for the third time, comparing it to upcoming deadlines.
“Class signup starts next week right?” he asks, whipping up to look at Joel, across the table. Joel pauses his lamenting on missing on date night with Lizzie.
“Registration isn’t for another two weeks.” Joel says slowly. Jimmy flips to two weeks out and, sure enough, there it is on Thursday in capital letters: “CLASS SIGNUP 8 AM!!” Jimmy groans.
“Are you forgetting something?” Joel asks, barely hiding his amusement.
“Tell me you know what I’m forgetting.” Jimmy leans over his open notebooks and half the table to beg properly.
Joel leans away from Jimmy’s hands and smirks. “How should I know what you’ve forgotten?” He reaches for his phone as he speaks and starts typing without breaking eye contact.
“If you’re texting Grian to make fun of me—” Jimmy starts, in his best attempt at threatening. It isn’t very good, given how Joel’s smirk just grows.
“Do your homework Jim.” Joel pats the top of his hand. “It’ll come to you; probably when you least expect it.” Joel sounds too happy about this for Jimmy’s taste. He sighs and sits back. Joel has decided to be unhelpful and there’s no changing his mind. Jimmy hates him a little.
“I hate you a lot.” He tells Joel. Joel is not bothered by this.
Truthfully, Jimmy can only hate Joel a little today. Joel agreed to go to the vet school library with him on a Friday night, even though it’s a good 15 minute bus ride from their dorm, because Jimmy focuses better here than at the library on main campus. Jimmy needs to be at the library on a Friday night because, at some point this semester, his workload went from substantial to overwhelming. And on top of that, there’s… something else. Something is happening this weekend and that means Jimmy has to get as much work done today as possible.
To start: this godforsaken discussion post that’s due at midnight. He switches windows back to the week’s reading and continues skimming it, hoping for something to jump out at him. He just needs to find something vaguely interesting to write 150 words about and then he can tell two random classmates they “brought up some very intriguing points, I hadn't considered that” and be done with the class—at least until next Friday’s discussion post.
It’s on his fourth reread of the same sentence (so much for skimming) that Jimmy feels a presence behind him. He freezes and considers. Joel is still in front of him, intently focused on his laptop screen. There’s only one other person Jimmy knows who would stand behind him and silently wait like this, but he’s an hour drive—this is the thing Jimmy forgot!
Jimmy whirls around, his suspicions immediately confirmed when he nearly smacks Grian in the stomach in his excitement. “Grian!” he exclaims and immediately winces at his volume.
“Hey Tim,” Grian grins. “Took you long enough to notice.” He ruffles Jimmy’s hair before sitting down.
“He’s been here for seven minutes.” Joel says as he reaches across the table to bump fists in greeting. “I timed it.”
“You’re getting sloppy Tim.” Grian shakes his head.
“Shut up.” Jimmy whines. “Where’s your stuff man?” He cannot believe he forgot Grian was staying the weekend; it’s not like their plans were what got him through the last few weeks.
“In my car, which is by your dorm, because that’s where you told me you’d be.” Grian pokes Jimmy in the chest. “Joel had to coach me through your bus system by text!”
Joel smirks at Grian’s annoyance. “Sorry, not all of us have the cutting-edge infrastructure of HCU.”
“A functional, easy-to-understand bus system is not cutting-edge—”Grian starts, voice rising, before Joel and Jimmy shush him.
“Yes, yes, HCU rules, ESU drools.” Joel says mockingly, rolling his eyes.
“Don’t give us Scar’s public transportation rant, I have homework I need to finish.” Jimmy pleads. Grian splutters like he can’t decide what to be offended by first.
“It’s not a rant—It’s not Scar’s—” he squawks. Jimmy and Joel glance at each other and laugh.
“Hush, both of you,” Grian folds his arms. “You’re doing homework? I drove all the way here, rode your horrible bus, to watch you do homework?”
Jimmy can't help but laugh. He’s missed Grian so much.
“Don’t laugh!” Grian exclaims and Joel shushes him again, still laughing as he does.
“The grind doesn’t stop.” Jimmy shrugs. “Gotta finish this today so I’m free tomorrow.” At the mention of tomorrow, Grian brightens.
“Yes! I’m looking forward to your gym.” he enthuses and Joel groans. “You guys actually have more climbing space than HCU does.” Grian continues and Joel groans louder.
“You’re obsessed.” Joel complains.
“Alright, Mr. Thought of Baby Names Three Months in.” Grian scoffs.
“I did not—not three months—” Joel fumbles to defend himself, flushing. “I would never—I was totally cool and normal about Lizzie.” His flush deepens at the mention of his girlfriend, which doesn’t really help his case.
“So, we’re just lying now?” Jimmy asks Grian in a stage whisper and they grin at each other.
“Shut up,” Joel groans, head in his hands. “Do your homework Tim.”
Jimmy frowns, but before he can say anything, Grian pokes his arm. “Yeah Timmy,” he says teasingly, switching sides easily. “Finish your homework so we can get out of here.”
“Boo,” Jimmy mumbles and he and Joel start working again.
Grian leaves them alone for about ten minutes, entertaining himself with his phone, before getting bored and scooting his chair closer to Jimmy. He rests his chin on Jimmy’s shoulder and starts reading along. Jimmy, used to this, lets his shoulder drop a little so Grian is more comfortable.
“Jim,” Grian says after a moment.
“Hmm?”
“If you don’t pick a random quote and start writing—” Grian starts and Jimmy just laughs. Joel looks up at the two of them, an eyebrow raised. “He’s overthinking this.” Grian huffs, sounding personally offended.
“I’d never accuse Jimmy of thinking too much.” Joel smirks.
“Hey!” Jimmy exclaims. “I wasn’t sure where to start and—” Grian cuts him off.
“That doesn’t sound like ‘Thank you for the advice, Grian, I’ll get right to it!’”
Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Thank you for the advice, Grian, I’ll get right to it.” he parrots. Grian pats him on the head and sits back, looking smug.
The worst part is: Grian is right. Jimmy finds the sentence he had to read four times and starts writing, “A quote that I found particularly interesting…”
Grian watches him type for a few minutes before getting bored again and rolling over to watch Joel. “That doesn’t look like homework.” He remarks dryly. Jimmy looks up to see the familiar expression of Joel caught texting Lizzie something gross and cheesy and quickly looks back to his own laptop screen, happy to let Grian take care of that.
- - -
They’re at the library for a few more hours, until it’s almost 12:30. Jimmy finished his discussion post and the two replies and starts on his math homework (Grian immediately teases him for “taking a finance class, that’s not even real math!”). Joel, eventually, probably because she fell asleep, stops texting Lizzie and starts reading. It’s a lot of highlighting, mumbling to himself, and looking like the book in front of him insulted his mother. Grian steals Jimmy’s phone, gets the passcode right on the first try because Jimmy hasn’t bothered to change it since Grian first learned it in high school, and starts playing Angry Birds. Jimmy doesn’t even remember having Angry Birds on his phone.
Eventually, Jimmy’s mind feels like a thick soup and Grian has given up on Angry Birds in favor of spinning his chair worryingly fast. Joel, seeing the state of the two of them, snaps his book closed and says, “Let’s get out of here.”
“Finally!” Grian exclaims, jumping up to his feet. He sways and stumbles and Jimmy laughs as he packs up his stuff.
Grian is buzzing with energy as they leave the library and head to the bus stop. The night air is warm and heavy with humidity. The sidewalk is lit a hazy orange-yellow from the streetlights. There’s no one else at the bus stop. Jimmy stands by the sign and bounces on his toes. Grian squints at the bus stop bench, like he's grading it. For a moment, it’s quiet—only the sounds of distant traffic and bugs.
“I’m hungry.” Joel announces to the night air, startling Jimmy a little.
“Nothing’s open right now.” Jimmy frowns.
“Do you not have food in your room?” Grian asks. Neither Jimmy nor Joel dignify his question with a response.
“There’s gotta be something open.” Joel pulls out his phone and opens his map app, pinching and panning and zooming in on nearby streets. Both Jimmy and Grian crowd around, bumping their heads together.
“I really cannot believe ESU doesn’t have stuff nearby open past midnight.” Grian mumbles. Jimmy can’t believe HCU would.
“There’s a Waffle House not far from our dorm, which is good because this is the last bus.” Joel announces, zooming in on the Waffle House in question. He looks a little too excited about this. Jimmy glances at Grian, who looks more caught up on the idea that the buses are stopping now.
“I could eat,” Jimmy offers and, just like that, their plans have been made.
“Waffle House!” Joel cheers and switches over to stare at the bus tracker app.
- - -
The Waffle House isn’t very busy, unsurprising for it being nearly 1 am, only another group of five college students crammed in a booth and only two people working. The blond, middle-aged cook yells at them to “sit wherever!” when they enter and Grian picks a booth for them. Joel slides in next to Grian and drops his backpack on the opposite bench right as Jimmy’s about to sit. Jimmy rolls his eyes, pushes the bag further in, and accidentally kicks Joel as he’s getting settled. Joel, of course, immediately kicks him back, and things devolve from there.
“Boys!” Grian admonishes as the waiter comes up to the table, menus in hand. “Can’t take them anywhere.” he jokes, like he didn’t just kick Jimmy in the shins. The waiter, a tall, lanky guy about their age with a yellow sweater on underneath his Waffle House shirt, looks unimpressed and drops the menus on the table. Joel, noticing the waiter, straightens up.
The waiter says, “Yell for me when you're ready.” and leaves.
“Christ that dude is tall.” Joel remarks as soon as he’s gone.
“You’re just short.” Grian rolls his eyes and pulls the menu Jimmy was reaching for towards himself.
“Taller than you!” Joel says indignantly.
“Don't start,” Jimmy begs, head in his hands. Joel takes this as an opportunity to the remaining menu. Jimmy doesn’t react. They all know what they want anyway.
He twists around to wave the server over. He’s talking to the cook, who looks a little more stressed than Jimmy would like the person making his food to look, especially if they work at Waffle House. When the tall man notices, he pushes off the counter and heds over.
“What can I get you guys?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. Jimmy catches his nametag: Wilbur.
“Double hashbrown, scattered and covered please.” Jimmy says, ignoring Grain’s responding gag. The server nods and turns to Joel, who’s puffing out his chest. Jimmy has to stare really hard at poor Wilbur’s beanie (red, a little dirty, definitely not in-uniform) to avoid Grian’s eye.
“All star breakfast, with bacon.” Joel replies and at least he’s not dropping his voice like he used to do in front of Lizzie all the time.
“Double waffles,” Grian says. “And we’ll all have orange juice.” Jimmy hates orange juice.
“It’s gonna be a while on those waffles.” Wilbur informs them. “We’ve only got one iron working at the moment and they”—he gestures behind him lazily to the other table— “all ordered waffles. That explains the cook’s expression. All three of them wince sympathetically.
“That’s fine.” Grian reassures him. Wilbur nods and leaves before Jimmy can remember he doesn’t like orange juice.
- - -
Their food comes fairly quickly, except for Grian and Joel’s waffles of course. “Yeah it’s gonna be about an hour.” the server tells them, faintly apologetic.
“Holy moly,” Jimmy breathes and Joel and Grian grimace in unison.
“We’ll wait,” Grian tells him.
“Waffle House welcomes you 24 hours a day.” Wilbur replies flatly before leaving, clearly quoting something from his training. Joel snorts into his food.
Jimmy slides his orange juice across the table to Grian. “Timmy, you've got to get your Vitamin C.” Grian says, taking a massive gulp of Jimmy’s orange juice. “What if you get scurvy or something?”
“I’m not getting scurvy.” Jimmy says and starts eating.
“You’re eating potatoes and cheese; that’s not exactly a balanced diet.”
“He does have a point.” Joel agrees, mouth full.
“You’re not any better!” Jimmy doesn’t exactly yell, and Joel and Grian both shush him.
- - -
Thirty minutes later, hashbrowns long gone, Jimmy has his head on the table, pillowed under his arms, half-asleep. Grian and Joel have been talking about this ghost-hunting video game for at least twenty minutes. While Jimmy plays it all the time with them, he barely knows the rules, nevermind the intricate strategies they’re discussing. Instead he lets their voices wash over him and, between them and the rain. He’s almost—
Jimmy sits bolt upright and blurts, “It’s raining?”
Grian and Joel pause to exaggeratedly glance between him, the window, and each other.
“Indeed it is, Timmy,” Grian claps mockingly. “Well done.” Jimmy groans.
“No, walking back is gonna be a pain.”
“Neither of you have an umbrella?” Grian asks, somehow surprised.
“I’m sure it’ll clear up soon.” Joel tells Jimmy. They both leave Grian's question unanswered.
- - -
Twenty minutes later, the rain hasn’t cleared up and, in fact, has gotten much worse. The water’s coming down in sheets angled by the wind. Jimmy was woken up by a loud crack of thunder and nearly jumped out of his seat, much to Joel and Grian’s amusement.
A little while later, Wilbur comes by with their waffles. “Sorry for the wait,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I’ll bring your bill in a moment, you guys paying separately or together?”
“Seperate,” Jimmy mumbles distractedly staring out the window at the storm. He can’t even see the streetlight by the bus stop.
The server pauses and adds, a little more sincerely this time, “You really are welcome to stay as long as you gotta.”
“Thanks,” Joel grins around a mouthful of waffle.
“Gross,” Grian groans around his own mouthful of waffle. Wilbur leaves, somehow looking both disgusted and disinterested.
Jimmy’s startled out of his storm-induced daze when every phone in the building goes off in quick succession. He scrambles to silence his, not even reading the warning displayed on the screen.
“Flood warning,” Joel reads. “No shit.” Flooding does indeed seem like a given as water streams down the sidewalk and starts to puddle over the one visible storm drain.
Jimmy drums his fingers on the table. His backpack is water resistant, but that doesnt mean much in a storm like this. None of them even have an umbrella or even jackets; it had been so warm that evening.
“I think we should wait.” He says.
“I’m not getting my laptop wet.” Joel agrees.
“Fine,” Grian sighs. It’s almost 2 am.
- - -
By 2:15, they’ve paid and their dishes sit in a neat stack next to a not insignificant cash tip that the three of them pooled together.
“For you and the poor man with only one waffle iron.” Grian tells Wilbur when he comes to collect their plates and raises an eyebrow at the bills. He actually laughs as he tucks it apron pocket.
When he leaves their table, they hear him yell, “Hey old man, tip for you!” and fall over each other trying not to laugh too loudly.
- - -
By 2:30, the rain has slowed enough that Jimmy can actually see through it. A couple, two college-aged women, had emerged suddenly into the yellow-white light of the Waffle House sign. Now, they stand by the counter, dripping.
“You can, like, walk but it sucked.” Jimmy hears one of them tell the cook, a little too casually for someone who was just out in the middle of a flood warning. The other apologizes profusely to Wilbur who’s brought over a mop.
Grian’s entertaining himself on Jimmy’s phone, so Jimmy looks over to Joel, who said he restarted his reading but is actually on his phone. Joel, as if sensing Jimmy’s gaze, looks up. “I don't wanna be stuck here all night with no sleep—we’re supposed to meet Lizzie for breakfast before work” he says a little sadly. Grian looks up from Angry Birds to glance between them.
Jimmy weighs his options. On the one hand, his laptop is out of warranty and he can’t afford to get it or his notes wet. On the other hand, Lizzie’s busy all weekend and the only chance she has to see Grian is at some cafe 20 minutes away tomorrow morning. At 8 am.
“It’s still pouring.” Grian complains. “Give it a bit.” They give it a bit.
- - -
By 2:45, the rain has barely slowed while Jimmy definitely has. He and Grian started stacking creamer pods and every so often Jimmy knocks them over and just stares, blinking, while Grian cackles.
He sets down the creamer he was about to stack and whines, “We can’t stay here any longer.”
Joel snaps his book closed and jumps up. “Right, let’s get going then so we can sleep and then wake up on time because I refuse to be late to meeting Lizzie.” He leans across the table, reaching for his bag, as he says this.
“Wait, wait, hang on a minute,” Grian says, still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “Can we be smart about this please?”
Joel, practically laying on the table to reach his bag tucked against the window with one hand while balancing off Jimmy’s shoulder with the other, says, “I’m always smart.”
“Uh-huh,” Grian says, unconvinced, and slides out past Joel's legs to talk to the cook, who’s leaning against the counter looking half-asleep. Jimmy manages to escape from Joel to stand and laughs as Joel flounders, trying not to fall off the table.
Joel’s upright by the time Grian returns with a small trashbag. Jimmy squints at the trashbag, trying to understand. “Wha’s that for?” he asks after Grian fails to explain, clearly more amused by Jimmy’s sleepy confusion.
“Well if you put something in here, you can keep it dry.” Grian starts, condescending. Jimmy blinks, still catching up. “Gosh, Tim, you really need to sleep.” Grian laughs, breaking character. “Put your laptops in here and then in Tim’s bag.” He instructs Joel. Jimmy just moves away and lets Joel handle things, swaying where he stands.
“Jesus Tim, you big baby,” Grian complains, propping him up a little with his shoulder.
Joel straightens up from where he was rearranging their stuff and hands Jimmy his bag. “Let’s get this show on the road!” He says, clapping his hands together once they’re free.
“Thank you, have a good night!” Grian calls to the Waffle House employees as he none-too-gently herds Jimmy out the door.
“Stay dry!” Wilbur calls after them from where he’s leaned next to the grill, blowing vape smoke up the exhaust.
“Complete dumbasses,” Jimmy hears the cook laugh as the door closes behind them.
He’s immediately soaked, barely three steps out the door and much more awake. The wind has died down considerably, which Jimmy is grateful for. “Lucky it’s not as windy,” he remarks, though he’s practically yelling to be heard over the rainfall and water rushing down the street gutters.
“Lucky?” Joel repeats, indignant.
“Oh yeah, let’s talk about how lucky this weather is!” Grian yells. He’s leading them across the parking lot like he knows where he’s going. Water sluices across their shoes as they push uphill, flooding Jimmy’s sneakers.
“It absolutely could be worse!” Jimmy argues. As if on cue: a distant rumble of thunder.
“Shut it.” Joel says, pointing at Jimmy threateningly. “If we get struck by lighting and miss breakfast, Lizzie’ll kill me.” This is, of course, not the threat he wants it to be and Grian and Jimmy fall over each other with laughter. When they finally straighten up, Joel is ahead of them and they rush—Jimmy slipping and nearly falling—to catch up.
“Do you guys remember that episode of Mythbusters?” Jimmy asks, once he’s caught his footing—and his breath—a bit.
“Which episode?” Joel asks, not kindly. “They made a lot.”
“About running versus walking in the rain?” Grian asks.
“Yeah!” Jimmy exclaims. “You remember the conclusion? I don’t.”
“No,” Grian admits and Joel groans.
“Why’d you bring it up if you don't remember the conclusion?” he asks the sky, throwing his head back.
“I thought Grian might!” Jimmy protests but he’s drowned out by Joel making choking noises. They all stop immediately.
“I just swallowed so much rainwater.” Joel croaks, looking a little red but fine, and Jimmy has to laugh.
“Why would you look up when it’s raining?” Grian admonishes, but he’s rubbing the part of Joel’s back that isn’t covered by his bag.
“I wasn’t thinking.” Joel straightens up and Jimmy doubles over, laughing harder. “C’mon let’s keep moving.” He tugs Jimmy’s arm.
“He’s delirious.” Grian says, pushing Jimmy from behind.
Together, they push-pull Jimmy to the intersection before the campus entrance and, with barely a glance, decide to cross without waiting for the crosswalk light. There’s no traffic anyway and, unsurprisingly, no one else out as they make their way to Jimmy and Joel’s dorm.
They make one last turn and, as if on cue, the rain slows to a steady drizzle. Jimmy, too tired to be mad, tilts his head back to feel the rain across his face.
“This is fucking bullshit.” Joel gripes.
“You’re the one who wanted to leave right then.” Grian points out, his own tiredness removing the usual sharpness of his teasing edge.
“Oh I’m Grian and I can perfectly predict the weather.” Joel says mockingly, never too tired to be insulted.
Grian, of course, has to respond. “Oh, I’m Joel and I’m so worried my girlfriend’s gonna be mad at me I make my friends walk half a mile in the middle of a flood warning.”
Before Joel can reply, Jimmy steps between them and slings an arm over each of their shoulders. “I’m glad you’re here this weekend.” He says. He’s sleepy and a little too earnest and probably putting a little too much weight on his friends but he’s ridiculously happy to have his two best friends with him.
“Gross Tim,” Grian and Joel complain in unison, but neither of them move away.
By the time they’re squelching up the stairs and entering the dorm the rain has stopped completely. Joel and Jimmy’s room is illuminated by moonlight streaming in through the permanently broken blinds. Joel immediately starts spreading his notes out on the air conditioning unit to dry. Jimmy finds a pair of shorts and a t-shirt (that was probably Grian's to begin with) to give Grian to sleep in. He grabs his towel and slimy shower caddy and heads to the hall’s bathrooms.
When he gets back, there’s wet stuff everywhere and the room is starting to smell like wet dog and sweaty boys and old pennies. Whatever, that’s a problem for Monday Jimmy.
Jimmy pulls on the shorts and t-shirt he uses as pajamas and clambers onto his slightly too-tall bed. Grian’s already made himself comfortable and he squints, half-asleep, at Jimmy. “That’s my t-shirt,” he grumbles.
“Shush,” Jimmy replies, nudging Grian to the side so he can fully fit on his own bed. Grian, begrudgingly, accommodates him. Jimmy falls asleep tucked against Grian’s familiar frame, tired and happy and finally dry.
#life series#traffic smp#bad boys#limited life#jimmy solidarity#grian#smallishbeans#limited life smp#my fic#chaddex#lddf-verse
59 notes
·
View notes
Text
jim hopper | only you
masterlist | request | ko-fi
words: 2.8k
warnings: fighting, accusations of cheating, strong language, reader has a past of toxic relationships which leads to insecurities, tiny reference to sex because it's hopper and he makes me h word
prompt: I see you like Hopper, and angst. So maybe fic where reader thinks Hopper is cheating on her? or vice versa? Like they break up or something angsty like that, but fluffy ending?
It starts on your lunch break. You’re on your way to grab food from the local cafe when you find your partner, Jim Hopper, in what seems to be a very engaging conversation with the librarian, Marissa, while he sips coffee from a to-go cup and offers her a donut. Of course, you and the rest of the town know they used to date, and you try to remind yourself of all the times he’s told you he fooled around for the hell of it, not because he actually liked her, but…he’s been distant recently, and you’ve been too exhausted to even try to reignite the spark.
And you know from a long list of shitty experiences that when men aren’t getting it from you, they’ll probably seek it out somewhere else.
Shit. Your heart sinks, a blade slicing straight through the middle when she laughs and he joins in. Shit, shit, shit. When was the last time you made Hopper laugh? You can’t even remember.
You swallow down the bile in your throat, trying to convince yourself to walk away now before the paranoia kicks in. When her hand brushes his, flirtatious and teasing, you spin away with tears pricking your eyes. You don’t see him pull away quickly, too busy whipping back around the corner, lunch forgotten.
You feel sick for the rest of the day, and not just because you haven’t eaten. But still, you convince yourself you’re just being insecure, jealous. You’re prone to it after your history, and you know that if you question him, he’ll only pull away more. So you let it lie.
Until the next time, in the library, when he uses his charms to get access to archives of anything involving Hawkins Lab. And the time after, when he doesn’t come home for dinner and only grunts “work” when you ask him where he’s been. And the final time, the time that finally makes you blow up, because he smells like her perfume. Or someone’s perfume. Someone who isn’t you.
You’re reading to El when he comes home that way, top button already undone and his hair mussed when he takes off his hat. You smell it as soon as he perches on the edge of the bed, beer already in hand. It's sweet, fruity. Not yours, and certainly not his.
“How’re my two favourite girls?” he asks. You don’t reply as El tells him about the story you’re reading to her. When she asks you to finish, you do without so much as looking up at him, though you can feel his bewildered stare burning into you.
And then you both wish El a goodnight, closing the door. Hopper doesn’t collapse onto the couch as usual, and he doesn’t kiss you hello either. He just stands there, eyebrows knitted together as you cross your arms over your chest and take a deep breath. “You smell like women’s perfume.”
His frown deepens. “What?”
“You smell,” you ground out, “like women’s perfume. And you’re home late. Again.”
“Okay…” Finally, he sits down, as though this conversation is no longer worth the extra energy it takes to stand. “I got caught up at work. Someone broke into the library.”
“Right. Where Marissa works. Is it her perfume?”
He runs a hand through his tuft of tousled hair, casting you a sidelong glance. “Why do I feel like I’m not even a little bit part of the conversation right now?”
“Is it her perfume, Hopper?” you repeat impatiently, anger rolling through you because you’re afraid you already know the answer. And all you can think is, It can’t be happening again. Not again. Not with Jim. Jesus, you can’t piece your heart back together after this. Not if he’s the one to break it.
“I don’t know. Christ. I can’t smell a damn thing.”
“Well then let me make it easier for you. Why would you smell like her perfume?”
“She was rattled. She hugged me. It lasted two seconds. Are we seriously doing this?”
“No.” Your heart beats the word over and over again. No. No. No. You can’t stick around for another heartbreak. You can’t find out that you’re not enough for him. “No, we’re not doing this.”
So you march into the bedroom and get the first bag you can find, shoving in your belongings haphazardly. Hopper’s heavy footsteps follow slowly, the old floorboards creaking until he’s so close you can feel your back burning. “Where the hell are you going?”
“I can’t…” You choke on a sob. “I know you’re cheating on me, Hop. I know. I’ve seen you around town with her. I’ve seen how she is with you. How you are with her. She makes you laugh.”
“What?” Disbelief clouds his voice, and he grabs your wrist, your elbow brushing the soft cushion around his ribs, and god, it doesn’t feel real. It’s over. You’re losing him. “What are you talking about? Can you stop giving me riddles and talk to me a minute? Who’s ‘her’? Who makes me laugh?”
You roll your eyes. “Marissa. Why, is there more than one of them? You seeing so many women you can't keep track?”
Hopper sighs in that way he usually does with El; the one that means he’s doing his best to stay patient. He pinches the bridge of his nose, his jaw clenching. “Are you kidding me right now?”
You shake your head and go back to packing. The fact he wouldn’t even try to defend himself…
You suppose you should be grateful because it makes it easier, but a part of you still hoped it was all in your head.
“Baby —”
“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, slapping his hand before he can stop you from packing. “Just don’t.”
He releases a puff of breath, placing his hands on his head so his stomach ripples. “Do you honestly think I’d cheat on you? Is that what you think of me?”
That technique, you’re used to. The deflection. The guilt trip. Because how could you possibly accuse him even though you both damn well know it’s true. You should be ashamed of yourself.
You zip up your bag quickly. “You forget I’ve been through this before.”
“And it’s made you fucking crazy! Jesus Christ, just stop a minute. Please.”
“I’m not fucking crazy, Hop!” you erupt finally, jabbing a finger at him. “I saw it. I fucking saw it. I can smell it. While I’m reading goodnight stories to El in your stale fucking cabin, you have the nerve to fuck around and then come home with her all over you! What is it? Is dad life reigniting your commitment issues? Huh? Or am I just not doing it for you anymore? Am I only good for making you dinner and taking care of your kid now?”
“Or maybe you’re just too damn fucking paranoid and insecure. You ever thought of that?”
“Fuck you,” you spit, brushing past him. El stands in the doorway of her bedroom, concern etched across her features, but you can’t find it in you to cease fire for her benefit anymore.
Hopper follows you out. “No, Y/N, fuck you!” And then: “Go back to bed, kid.”
“Please don’t fight,” El whispers.
“Go back to bed,” he orders firmly. “Please.”
This time, El does, but not without slamming the door first. The lamp flickers a moment later, and you shake your head, a kernel of guilt planted in your stomach. She deserves better than this. You all do. It’s just one broken home to another.
“You gonna slam the door on me, too?” Hopper asks.
You turn around, shuddering with trapped sobs. There he is. The one man you actually trusted. The man you loved more than anybody else in the world. The love of your fucking life. And still it all turned out the same. It always turns out the fucking same.
You can feel his anger rippling off him and wonder if maybe you deserve it. Maybe you should have expected the cheating. Maybe you should have let it go. But you never can seem to. You just fall into the same patterns over and over.
He was supposed to be different.
More tears dampen your cheeks as you close your eyes. “Guess so.”
“Where the hell are you going to go? We’re in the middle of the damn woods. If you just stopped for a fucking minute, you’d realise how crazy you sound.”
You flinch against the word this time, so tired of hearing it. Maybe you are crazy. Maybe you’ll never be loved. Maybe disappearing into the woods is the best thing you could do for everyone.
Hopper seems to notice this time. He softens and takes a step forward. “Y/N…what the hell are we doing? Just put your shit down and look at me. Talk to me.”
But you can’t. You walk away, and you slam the door behind you.
***
Hopper’s lost without you. It takes him all of five minutes to realise that. He runs out for you, but you’re long gone. The day after, he has one too many beers to numb the pain. The day after that, he tries to call your old phone and finds it disconnected. He doesn’t even know where you might go; your friends are his friends, and Joyce would tell him if you were hiding out at her place.
The cabin is empty. El won’t talk to him. He hasn’t done a damn thing wrong, and his best girls are mad at him. For what? Even now, he can’t work it out. You might have been going through a stale patch, but that’s because you’re trying to manage a telepathic twelve-year-old in hiding among the rest of Hawkins’ bullshit. It hadn’t changed anything for him. He still slept beside you every night. Was still grateful to wake up next to you every morning. He’d quit drinking too much, quit the drugs, for you. He fucking adored you, and you’d just walked away like you didn’t know him at all.
And he can’t just let you go thinking the worst of him. He can’t. So when, five days later, Callahan claims to have seen you around the trailer park, he goes right away. Knocks on every damn door until you appear in the dingiest trailer on the lot. Dark circles hug the space beneath your puffy eyes, maybe something to do with the barking dog on the other side of the lot, but he doesn’t think so. He thinks you’re hurting just as much as he is, and he’d do anything to make it better.
“Can we talk?” His voice is nothing more than a rasp as he uses his toe to stub out his cigarette.
You eye the ash sinking into the grass before nodding. “Okay.” And then you step inside, and his heart flutters with just the tiniest bit of hope.
He sits on the tatty old couch while you remain standing. The counter is covered in empty wine bottles and full ash trays, and it breaks his damn heart. What did he do for it to get to this? Let Marissa hug him briefly, apparently.
But he knows that’s not all. He stopped coming home early to spend time with you and El. Stopped showing you the appreciation he felt, too exhausted by everything else he contended with on a daily basis. He stopped making you feel safe, loved, and that’s on him. Even if it still makes him sick that you’d ever think of him as a cheater.
“How’d you find me?” you ask.
“Callahan said he saw you round here.”
You nod, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s temporary. Till I find somewhere else.”
“You don’t need to find anywhere else, Y/N. Just come home.”
Your breath hitches. “I can’t do that.”
So you’re still choosing to believe he’s the enemy, then. He bows his head, steepling his fingers. “I didn’t cheat on you. It hurts me that you think I would. Especially since you’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You purse your lips, but they wobble all the same. “It doesn’t matter whether you did or not. I think I made it pretty clear that if you don’t ruin this, I will.”
“No. You didn’t make anything clear. That was the problem. You just walked away like it was nothing.”
“I know. Because you’re right. I’m insecure. My past…it’s made me crazy. I think the worst. I have to think the worst.”
“If you don’t let yourself trust me,” he says softly, “I can’t give you the best. And that pattern…it’ll never break.”
You rub your cheek absently. “Yeah. Maybe. Maybe some people just aren’t meant to be loved, y’know?” A mirthless chuckle. It leaves him cracked, shattered. Because if anyone deserves to be loved, it’s you.
“Too bad.” He looks up finally. “Because I love you. And you can keep pushing me away, but that won’t change. I’m sorry for all the times I came home late. I’m sorry I let you think I’d ever want anybody but you, because I wouldn’t. It’s been you since the minute we met. It’s always gonna be you, whether you’re in this trailer or the cabin or five thousand miles away. I can’t make you trust me, so the rest is up to you.”
Lines wrinkle your forehead, your eyes turning glossy. “Why would you want me after this?”
He smirks, bearded cheek dimpling. “Why wouldn’t I? If nothing else, you keep me on my damn toes.”
You have no response to that, but he waits. For minutes, he waits, listening to the clock tick along with his racing heart. “El’s barely talking to me. She misses you like hell.”
“I should go and see her. I just…I needed some space.”
His inhale shudders through the heavy silence. “Do you really want all this to be over?”
You squeeze your eyes closed, and he’s certain he catches the faint shake of your head. “I just don’t know…”
“What? What don’t you know?” He stands up, avoiding the coffee table to make his way over to you. “What don’t you know, baby?”
“I’m always going to be insecure. I’m always going to be paranoid when I see you with other women. It’s…” you clutch your stomach like it’s physical pain, “it’s embedded in me now.”
“Then I guess I’ll always have to reassure you that you’re the only one I want. Hopefully, a little better than I did last time.”
“But that’s the point. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
When tears spill onto your cheeks, he can’t help but finally cup your jaw to catch them with the pads of his thumbs. “I’m gonna deal with that because I love you. And I’d rather reassure you a thousand times a day than not be with you. We’ve all got baggage, Y/N. Hell, I’m not easy to be with, but you never turned away from the scary shit. From Sara and the divorce and the fucking shitshow in this town. Look at me.” You do. “I’m still here. I still want you. Let me back in.”
You lick the tears gathering on your lips, eyes glistening. “And Marissa…”
“Nothing happened with Marissa. She gets a little over-friendly sometimes, and I should have done more to stop it. We slept together a couple times before I met you, but she’s nothing to me now. And everybody in town knows I’m smitten by you. Jesus. I’m growing my beard just to hide my fucking blush.”
Your lips twitch and he thinks, Finally. Finally, she’s coming back to me. You trace a finger along the rough stubble peppering his jaw. “I do like the beard.”
“Yeah?” He’s unable to bite back his grin now as he nuzzles his chin into her shoulder, tugging a laugh from her. “You like it, huh? Enough to come home?”
“Maybe,” you whisper between tearful chuckles.
“Maybe is good. I think I can think of a few more ways to convince you.”
“Is that right?”
He squeezes your hips, longing to press his face between your thighs and taste you. See if the beard’s enough then. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Don’t ever forget it.”
“I’ll try not to.” You wrap your hands around his neck and kiss him softly.
Neither of you apologises, and he likes it that way. You’re just a couple of broken humans doing your best, and it’s not really something you should apologise for. He knew about your past when he fell for you, and though your insecurities hurt him, he understands. He’s lost things, too. He can’t ever lose you.
So he forgives you, and he hopes you forgive him, even if you don’t say it.
And after making use of the empty trailer, you go home. Together.
#jim hopper#imagines#request an imagine#fandom imagines#imagines masterlist#multifandom imagines#x reader imagines#masterlist#multi fandom imagines#multifandom#x reader#hopper#jim hopper x you#jim hopper fanfic#jim hopper x reader#jim hopper thirst#stranger things#stranger things one shot#stranger things imagines#stranger things fanfiction#strangerthings#hopper stranger things#chief hopper#hopper x reader#hopper x you#david harbour#david harbour imagines#jim hopper one shot#hopper one shot
284 notes
·
View notes
Text
In Our Favor
Part 33
McCoy
Something was definitely wrong with Spock, McCoy decided by Friday afternoon. Jim too, but McCoy hadn’t sat next to him in class for two days. He had with Spock and the curtness that had been present on Thursday was markedly stronger on Friday. Annoyance seemed to vibrate off him and McCoy left their shared class on edge.
Walking across campus McCoy saw a familiar flash of blond hair and hurried to catch Jim.
“Hey! Jim!”
McCoy saw Jim’s shoulders tense before he turned around.
“Bones!” he greeted McCoy too loudly.
“What’s wrong with Spock?” McCoy asked bluntly.
“What? Nothing,” Jim said far too quickly for McCoy’s liking.
“I grew up with the guy Jim,” McCoy raised a brow. “Something’s off. Something happen between you two?”
“We’re fine,” Jim waved him off with a smile. McCoy saw it didn’t reach Jim’s eyes.
“We’re all here for you, you know. You just have to tell us—”
“Great,” Jim interrupted. “But nothing’s wrong. I’ve got class, I’ve gotta run.”
McCoy frowned as Jim hurried away from him.
McCoy turned to walk to his own class, his last of the day. He would have all afternoon after lunch for homework and relaxing. And some investigating. Something was wrong with his friends and he was determined to help.
He pulled out his PADD as soon as he sat in class and quickly typed out a message.
*Keep this to yourself. I’ll call you after I’m out of class. Has there been any talk there about Spock?*
He hit send. If there was anything to know in the palace, Leah would find out.
In their dorm room, McCoy shucked off his jacket and sat at his desk. He set the PADD in front of himself. He sent another message to Leah to see if she could talk or if she was busy.
A moment later the device began to ring.
“What’s going on?” Leah asked as her face appeared.
“Hi to you too,” McCoy replied.
“Hi,” Leah rolled her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” McCoy said, running a hand through his hair. “Spock is acting weird. He’s snapped at me and seems angry. Really angry. So much he's nearly shaking.”
Leah frowned. “I take it you’ve asked him.”
McCoy nodded. “You know how tight lipped he is.”
“What’d Jim say?”
McCoy made an exasperated noise. “He says everything is fine. I don’t believe him for a second.”
“Did they break up?” Leah asked. Her expression changed to worry.
McCoy shook his head. “I don’t think that’s it. I don’t know why, but I don’t feel it’s that. So any word there?”
It was Leah’s turn to shake her head.
“I haven’t heard anything, but I haven’t been hiding behind doors either. Maybe he’s catching a cold or something? Earth germs affecting him differently?”
“Maybe,” McCoy said, sitting back in his chair. “He’s never spoken to me like that before.” He paused and frowned. “I don’t like it.”
“You can’t make him tell you,” Leah offered gently.
“I know. But with everything he’s done for me, it’s the least I can do to look out for him too.”
“I’ll keep my ears open,” Leah promised.
“Thanks,” McCoy said.
“Everything else is good?”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” Leah said. “Call Mother tomorrow and tell her all about it. You’ve been there a week and haven’t called yet.”
McCoy rolled his eyes at his sister bossing him around.
“I will.”
“There ye are Len!”
Scotty came through their door with a look of relief.
“Ye skipped lunch.”
McCoy was sitting back on their bed reading. He lowered his book to look at his husband.
“I had to call Leah.”
“How is she?” Scotty asked, depositing his things on his desk and undoing his jacket.
“Good. I- I wanted to know if she’d heard anything at home about Spock.” McCoy continued as Scotty looked over at him. “Something’s wrong. He’s angrier today than yesterday and that’s not like him. Jim insists everything is fine. What were they like at lunch?”
“Spock wasn’t there, and Jim sat down just before I left. He looks like himself, but he’s not right either,” Scotty said as he joined McCoy on the bed.
“I don’t like it,” McCoy said again. “I just want to help.”
Part 34
Scotty
The next morning, Scotty could still see how much the matter with Spock was bothering Leonard.
Once again, the Vulcan did not appear in the dining hall and this time Jim was also missing. It really was worrisome.
The rest of their friends had also noticed that something was wrong. Everyone could feel the tension at the table quite clearly, but no one dared to broach the subject.
Instead, they all tried to talk casually and cheerfully about their weekend plans.
Uhura wanted to explore the city with Cora and Jaylah and maybe do a bit of shopping.
Christine was meeting up with Roger.
Chekov and Keenser had arranged to play an online RPG game with Robbie and Sulu wanted to try out the fencing course offered by the Academy.
"Maybe we should take a look at the city too," Scotty suggested as he gently touched the arm of his husband, who was lost in thought.
The dark-haired boy flinched slightly and his eyes widened as he turned his head towards Scotty.
"What?"
A soft smile formed on Scotty's lips and he moved closer to Leonard.
"I said we could go and see the city today," he repeated his idea and Leonard just nodded, putting on a smile.
"Oh, um, sure. I was actually going to suggest that to you too."
"Well, it's a deal then," Scotty said, before pressing a kiss to Leonard's cheek.
Maybe the time in the city would take their minds off things and distract them.
They set off straight after breakfast. The sun was shining quite strongly, but the cool breeze blowing in from the sea made it quite bearable outside.
At least for Scotty.
He already suspected that it might be a little too cool for Leonard, who was used to different temperatures from Georgiares. The lad had even put on a thin jacket.
"What do ye think? Should we go and see the sea?"
Scotty was very happy that they were studying in a city that was near the water. It reminded him of his home.
When he once again received no answer, the young Scotsman frowned and squeezed Leonard's hand, which was resting in his, a little tighter.
His husband looked at him and his cheeks turned a soft pink.
"I'm sorry, leannan. I was just thinking-"
"About Spock and Jim. Aye, I know," Scotty finished Leonard's sentence as he nodded his understanding.
Leonard ran his free hand through his hair and sighed.
"I just want to do something for them!"
Scotty slowly came to a halt and he grabbed both of his lover's hands.
"Hey, ye did something for them. Ye offered them the chance to talk and ye informed Leah. And I'm sure she'll let us know as soon as she knows more."
Leonard had told Scotty about the call with the princess and although Scotty hadn't been particularly enthusiastic about him using her as a spy at first, he knew that Leonard only meant well.
"All we can do now is wait."
Leonard put on a pout and Scotty couldn't help but chuckle softly.
"And I know how much ye hate waiting, mo ghràdh, but we have no choice."
Leonard just sighed loudly, then nodded.
"I know."
They were silent for a moment before Scotty started moving again, pulling Leonard with him.
"And now, let's go to the beach!"
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
open a bottle up (pour a little out in your memory) | 2.7k | trans jim kirk, modern au
whumptober prompt no. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.” | delirium | “They don’t care about you.”
also on ao3!
>Morning kiddo< Sent 06:48
The text isn’t that unusual, even for the early hour. But Chris’s typing bubble has disappeared and reappeared about fifty times now while Jim’s stared down at his phone in consternation.
He really doesn’t need the extra nerves. Not today.
Jim’s phone finally vibrates again and he hurriedly swipes at it to wake the screen.
Then he stares some more.
>You need a ride to the hospital?< Sent 06:59
Jim’s thumbs hover over the keyboard, his brain zipping through all the possible replies he could send.
No.
Absolutely not.
(yes please god)
Or, possibly, how the everlivingfucK do you know I have to be at the hospital today???
After a vicious debate with himself in which he tosses his phone away and picks it back up more than once, he taps out a >yeah sure< before he can think any better of it.
—-----
Fifteen minutes later, Chris pulls into the driveway.
Jim hauls himself up off the front stoop and stalks toward the car, shoulders hunched and feet full of lead.
“How’d you know I was here?” Jim mumbles as he’s fastening his seatbelt.
“Called around when your mom mentioned you’d disappeared again. Hikaru caved, but don’t be too hard on him - I may have threatened him a little.”
“You what?”
“I’m kidding,” says Chris drily, throwing a hand over the back of Jim’s seat to reverse onto the street. “He knew I was just worried.”
Jim shifts uncomfortably. “Yeah, well, you worry too much.”
Chris just hums, eyes on the road.
Jim watches the houses and trees fly by outside the window. Eventually the silence grows so thick he can’t stand it anymore. He flicks his eyes to Chris.
“You know where you’re taking me?” he asks, but it’s more like an accusation. A challenge.
You know what you’re taking me to do?
“Yes,” Chris says simply. “Phil told me.”
Jim gapes at him, almost forgetting to be self-conscious in the face of his indignation. “He can’t do that! What about all that doctor-patient confidentiality crap? And he’s not even my doctor!”
Chris glances at him, unimpressed. “He’s not your surgeon,” he clarifies. “But he got tagged to assist, and your paperwork isn’t legit.”
Jim’s stomach flops. Well, shit.
“How the fuck did you get Frank to sign off on it?” Chris asks, glancing at him again with scrunched eyebrows.
Jim shrugs and forces his hands to unclench from his thighs. “Just mixed it in with a bunch of papers and told him it was a disciplinary notice from school. Wasn’t that hard.”
Chris huffs a laugh that’s half-disapproving, half-impressed. “Well that was a risk - what did you plan on doing if he actually read all of it?”
“Frank, reading,” Jim scoffs. “Yeah, right.” After a pause, he ventures, “Are you guys gonna report me?”
The corner of Chris’s mouth quirks up, but it’s a little sad. “No, we’re not. You’re sixteen. You did everything else right, all the therapy - ”
How does he know about that? Goddammit, Phil.
“ - and you’ve always had a pretty good idea of what you want,” he finishes. He chews his lip and taps his thumb on the steering wheel a few times. “But I want you to come stay with us after, while you recover.”
Jim grimaces. And wouldn’t that just be awkward as hell.
“Is that supposed to be blackmail?”
Chris gives him a look. “No, it’s an invitation. And a request. Or do you really want to recover from surgery on the Sulus’ couch?”
“They said I could,” Jim mumbles. Chris doesn’t dignify this with a response. After another minute in which Jim glares out of the window and works through vague feelings of mutiny, he gives in. “Fine, just…don’t tell my mom. Please?”
Chris blows out a breath that ruffles the hair at his forehead. “I’ll have to at least let her know you’re staying with us - you know I don’t have a choice about that,” he adds pointedly at the look on Jim’s face, “ - but I’ll leave the rest for you to tell her, if and when you feel like it, alright?”
“Oh okay, like when hell freezes over?”
Chris just raises his eyebrows at him to punctuate his point.
Sighing, Jim gives a slow nod, crosses his arms tightly over his chest, and counts himself lucky.
—----
It’s a short drive between Riverside and the University hospital (plus, of course, Chris has visited here too many times to count and knows exactly where to park) so before Jim knows it he’s standing in the antiseptic-smelling lobby and the excitement hits him for the first time.
He’s spent months - years - waiting for this, and as really fucking nervewracking as it is, it’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to him and suddenly it’s not moving fast enough.
Jim sits filling out the last-minute anesthesia paperwork, leg jiggling up and down and brain circling around and around everything that’s about to happen.
His knee stops bouncing abruptly. He looks up at Chris sitting next to him and says almost accusingly, “Wait…you said they asked Phil to help with the surgery.”
Jim’s guts bottom out at the thought, but Chris is already shaking his head.
“They asked, but he recused himself.”
“He did?”
Chris gives him a lopsided smile. “Can’t operate on family.”
That shouldn’t make Jim’s throat feel tight, so he pretends it doesn’t.
“Oh,” is all he says. But maybe something shows on his face because Chris reaches over and squeezes Jim’s shoulder in that way he always does, thumb swiping over the bone and taking some of Jim’s anxiety with it.
—----
The doctor asks Jim if he’d like her to put on some music while he’s getting his IV set up. The first few notes start to filter through the speakers, and his last thought before going under is that Frank would absolutely hate this song.
Jim sleeps just fine.
—----
He comes around nauseous and disoriented.
There’s a tightness around his chest, and he looks down at himself, eyeing the compression band.
Oh. Right.
A slow, sleepy smile spreads over his face.
He realizes after a minute that he’s not alone. Chris is lounging in a chair next to his bed, but he straightens a bit and grins when he sees Jim’s eyes are open.
“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”
Jim rasps something incoherent and Phil enters his vision armed with a paper cup of water. He pops a straw into it and hits the button to raise the head of Jim’s bed so he’s sitting up just a bit. “Drink,” he orders gently, holding out the cup. Jim makes a clumsy grab for it, but Phil just hangs onto it and supports the back of Jim’s head to help him sip. “You’ll be thirsty for a few hours while the anesthetic works its way out of your system.” When Jim releases the straw, he sets the cup down on a side table. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” Jim mumbles. “Sleepy.”
Phil smirks. “I bet.” He smoothes the edge of Jim’s blanket unnecessarily and exchanges a brief kiss with Chris. “I have to get back to my rounds, I’ll check in on you two later, hm?”
“M'kay,” says Jim, eyes already falling closed again.
—----
The surgeon doesn’t see any reason to keep Jim overnight, so when Phil’s shift ends at four they all head out together. (He’s offered a couple days’ worth of painkillers, but he thinks of his mom and decides he’ll do just fine with ibuprofen, thanks.)
Chris brings the car around and Phil helps Jim into the backseat before sliding in next to him. It’s only when they’re a few miles down the highway that Jim thinks to ask groggily, “What about your car?”
“I’ll pick it up later,” Phil explains, an inexplicable fondness in it.
Jim relaxes into the seat and spends the rest of the drive listening to Chris and Phil talk quietly over the low buzz of the radio.
—----
Jim half expects the guest room to be straightened up and scraped clean of any sign he had ever been there.
It’s not.
The bed’s been made, but other than that it’s the same as Jim had left it the last time he stayed two months ago. Old homework scratch paper strewn about on the desk, the pair of shoes he’d kicked off by the closet, his copy of The Great Gatsby lying on the nightstand.
He sits on the edge of the mattress and breathes in the smell of the house.
—----
He tries not to leave his room much.
(Honestly, Jim spends a lot of the time looking at himself sideways in the mirror and trying not to overexert himself from how fucking giddy it makes him.)
It’s summer, though, so Chris doesn’t have to go into the school and this leaves him with plenty of time to bully Jim into eating something or watching a movie or flattening Chris at MarioKart.
Phil tries to act like he’s not hovering, but he is. Every time he comes home he wants to check Jim’s dressings and his temperature and make sure he’s not lifting anything or moving his arms too much.
Jim should be grateful.
Instead he just feels like he’s suffocating.
They haven’t really talked about it - Jim’s surgery, and all that it means. He gets the feeling they’re waiting for him to bring it up, but each time he tries it’s like he can’t unstick his throat. He doesn’t want any of it to change (even though everything is going to, everything has) - Phil and Chris have been there for him, even though there wasn’t ever any good reason for a high school history teacher and his husband to look out for a kid who did nothing but fuck up approximately three times a week.
Jim knows, deep down, that they won’t kick him out, or say anything nasty to him about all of this, but this doesn’t stop him from expecting it anyway.
—----
Three days after his surgery, he wakes up with a fever.
He pops a few more NSAIDs and doesn’t mention it.
—----
“Feeling alright?”
Chris settles on the arm of the couch and Jim blinks up at him. He shivers again and pulls the blanket more tightly around his shoulders.
“Yeah…just cold.”
Chris frowns and puts a light hand to Jim’s forehead, pushing his hair out of the way. His frown deepens, alarm flashing in his eyes. “You’re burning up.”
“I’ll be okay,” Jim protests, eyes glued to the television. “I took some ibuprofen.”
Chris hums. “I think I should take you back to the hospital.”
Jim grimaces; that’s exactly what he doesn’t want to do. Chris has already helped him enough.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jim insists, and he meets Chris’s eyes. “Seriously.”
“Trust me, kid, this isn’t something you fuck around with - I’m at least calling Phil, we’ll see what he thinks,” says Chris, digging around in his pocket for his cell.
Jim sighs and goes back to watching detectives dig up a skeleton that an unfortunate hiker had just so happened to find.
—----
Phil drags him back to the hospital after all but Jim’s so out of it by then that he doesn’t have the brain power to mind that much.
They put him back in a bed and pump him full of drugs and he’s pretty sure the nurse says something about an infection. Jim’s too busy trying not to throw up to pay a whole lot of attention.
He loses stretches of time and it’s dark outside the next time he manages to be semi-aware. By the light of the dim bedside lamp he can just make out the two shapes of Chris and Phil, both asleep sitting up and curled against each other on the tiny padded bench built into the wall under the window.
Jim stares at them. His eyes burn and he thinks maybe the nurses filled him up with more drugs than he remembers. The thoughts in his head are racing each other around, and he abruptly wishes the television in the corner wasn’t turned off. A glance around the room doesn’t reveal the remote.
There’s a beeping to his left, coming faster and faster, and it takes him a minute to realize it must be his heart monitor.
Chris stirs on the bench and blinks his eyes open, rubbing his neck.
Jim’s chest feels tight - of course it does - but he doesn’t think it’s just the compression vest.
“Hey…” Chris whispers. He carefully disentangles himself from his husband and steps toward the bed. “Hey now,” he says again as he takes a seat on the edge, and it sounds so damn soft.
That’s when Jim becomes aware he’s crying. The knowledge sends him spinning even faster and he can’t hold it in no matter how hard he tries.
“I’m sorry,” he says, but it comes out on a broken sob.
Chris’s mouth opens in a horrified sort of disbelief. He settles a hand in Jim’s hair, soothing his fingers through it. “For what, kid?”
Jim can’t think straight. “I’m sorry,” he cries again. Helpless. Desperate. “I’m sorry, I’m - that I - I tried not to be, I swear, I really, really tried - ”
“Tried to what?” Chris asks, with nothing but patience. Something shifts behind him and Jim sees that Phil’s woken up too.
Jim screws his eyes shut.
He can barely get it out.
“To not be a boy,” he chokes, and starts sobbing in earnest, chest aching.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Chris says, and he sounds utterly broken.
He leans down and gathers Jim in his arms, mindful to avoid squeezing him too tightly. The hand on his head shifts, moving in circles near his temple. “Shhh,” Chris calms. Whispers into his hair. “It’s alright. You’re alright…”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry I - that I couldn’t - ”
Chris just keeps holding him. Telling him things that can’t possibly be true but that Jim wants to believe so, so badly.
That he’s okay.
He doesn’t need to be sorry.
He’s exactly who he’s meant to be.
That he’s not a problem and a useless fuck-up.
Jim chokes on all the words he tries to find and just cries and cries and cries.
A weight settles at the end of the bed, and Phil’s palm rests over his shin. He doesn’t say anything - lets Chris do the talking for the both of them - but the weight is grounding, and it eases something in Jim’s heart.
—----
He’s cleared to leave eighteen hours later, hopped up on antibiotics and exhausted but more than ready to get the hell out of that room.
It’s ten in the morning, and when they get to the house Chris insists on making his specialty waffles for breakfast.
“That always takes you hours,” Jim gripes, “for some godforsaken reason. They’re waffles. Aren’t they supposed to take, like, five minutes?”
“You would think,” Phil deadpans.
“Hey,” says Chris indignantly, fastening the waist tie of his apron while Jim and Phil collapse into stools at the counter. “D’you want a gourmet breakfast or not?”
Jim and Phil look at each other, silently debating.
“That’s it!” Chris pokes a threatening spoon at the air in Phil’s direction. “No blueberries for you.”
“Me? What about him?” Phil gestures at Jim, affronted.
“He gets whatever the hell he wants,” Chris says easily and starts pulling pans out of cupboards. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.” He goes to grab the fruit out of the freezer but stops in front of Jim, hesitating. He sets the baking powder down quietly on the counter, and his expression shifts to an odd mix of curiosity and caution.
“What’s your name?”
Oh.
With a small jolt (and a wave of gratitude) it comes to Jim that for the past few days Chris and Phil have totally avoided calling him anything besides the occasional ‘kid.’
He hasn’t told anybody this. Not even his friends.
As sure as he’s been lately about his identity, and what he wants the rest of his life to be, picking a name had felt…weird.
Silly, even.
Like he was playing pretend, or maybe dreaming, and one of these days he was going to have to wake up.
But he looks at Phil and Chris, and thinks of the room upstairs that’s always kept waiting for him, and he feels safe.
Suddenly it doesn’t feel silly anymore.
It feels like who he was meant to be.
“Jim,” he says, and it fits around him so easily, warm and right and his. “My name is Jim.”
#whumptober2023#no.2#lyric#delirium#quote#star trek#aos#jim kirk#christopher pike#fic#top surgery#gender identity#found family#solv fic
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
Goodbyes
Jimmy Snuggerud x Faber sister
As soon as the buzzer sounded you were rushing to the locker room. You knew both your brother and boyfriend were going to be a mess of tears and frustration. Matthew was the first one out he wrapped his arms around you before heading to his brother who was standing next to you. You give hugs to each of the boys spending extra time with Justen before waiting for your boys.
“Brock’s a mess,” Logan says as he and Jimmy walk out of the room. Logan goes to his parents while Jimmy accepts a quick hug before you place a kiss on his lips.
“I’ll be back baby,” you state, giving him a half smile before the boys take him away from you. You sit down next to your twin and pull him into your arms. He wraps his arms around you and sobs in your embrace.
“I feel like I let the team down,” Brock sighs.
“You didn’t. I know it feels like everything is falling apart but you did everything you could. I promise you none of those boys think you let them down,” you look Brock in the eyes trying to drill the information into his head.
“I know but,”
“No but’s Brock. You tried your hardest and played your heart out.” you cut Brock off before he can trash talk himself.
“I know,” he leans back into the stall.
“Hey, it’ll be okay. You’re staying in Minnesota so you’ll still have me and the boys. Everyone will be here for you whether or not you sign. I love you B-rock,” you smile.
“I love you too little sis,” he smiles back.
“Hey it’s only 5 minutes,” you laugh as you get up, “I’ll let you finish getting ready then you're going to dinner with Jimmy and me. And before you go ‘oh I don’t wanna third wheel’ Cools and Knies are coming for sure, plus whoever else got roped along.”
“Thank you,” Brock gets up and you walk to the door.
“I’d do anything for you so remember that,” you shut the door before a few of the boys look at you.
“How is he?’ Luke asks.
“He’ll be okay,” you respond, and Jimmy wraps his arms around you. Most of the boys go back to the bus leaving only a few of you left. You can feel Jimmy’s tears on your shoulder, and you turn around. You cup his cheeks, wiping his tears before he places his forehead against yours.
“I love you,” he says, pulling you further into his arms.
“I love you too. Even if you refuse to shave,” you shake your head as the boy.
“Hey, I recall you saying something about liking that way it feels,” Jimmy starts.
“Snuggerud don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Brock yells finally coming out of the locker room.
“Eye eye captain,” Jimmy salutes, causing you and Logan to start laughing. The 5 of you head to the Uber you called while Jimmy laces his finger in yours. The 5 of you pile in before Matthew finally asks the seemingly most important question.
“So where are we going for dinner?”
“Well since you were a good boy I figured I would get you some Chick-fil-a,” you tell Matt.
“Shit I could marry you right now,” Matthew bounced his leg excitedly for Chick-fil-a.
“Hey that’s my job,” Jimmy defends his position, and the 4 of you laugh,
“Jim honey Matthew has a girlfriend he loves very much. He just loves his chick-fil-a. Do you not remember the video you made talking about Matthew’s love for Chick-fil-a,” you laugh. Jimmy's face goes red and he buries his head in your shoulder. You run your hands through his hair and he sighs. The driver pulls in and you guys get out. Yeah, the group would be different in a week but for right now everything was okay.
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
I’d love to see more nsfw fics of the archie/Jim/olu/zheng polycule! I don’t think I’ve seen anything yet, maybe an alternate ending where they’re all on zhengs ship in her captains quarters?
Summary: Olu gets a special treat on his birthday
Relationships: Jim/Olu/Archie/Zheng
Word count: 800+
Warnings: 🔞 NSFW 18+, minors dni 🔞
A/N: apologies for how long this took me but I hope you enjoy and it was what you were looking for
Olu lays on the massive bed in Zheng’s room, fully naked and hands bound to the headboard with a length of rope. When he’d been told he was getting a birthday surprise, this was not what he had imagined, but he’s definitely not complaining. He could hear his three partners giggling just the other side of the door, his prick already reacting in anticipation for tonight’s endless potentials.
Zheng is first to enter, wearing a deep red lingerie set, her hair in its usual style. He can’t help but let out a moan just at the sight of her, before he notices it, a butt plug in her hand. He watches as she takes the small vial of oil from the bedside table, pouring some over her fingers and the toy before slicking his hole. He lets out another moan as Zheng’s finger circles his hole before she inserts it, making sure he’s nice and relaxed before inserting another. By the time she’s on the third, his prick is throbbing in anticipation.
Once she’s decided he’s prepped enough, he feels the toy at his entrance as she inserts it slowly. He knows what’s coming next, but he notices that Zheng didn’t bring the strap with her, Zheng picks up on this. “Oh Jim is going to taken care of you tonight” she purrs “I have other plans for you and I”
Before Olu can ask what these other plans are, Jim and Archie enter the room, Jim wearing the strap and nothing else. Archie wearing a lingerie set similar to Zheng’s but in an emerald green, she looks stunning. They all do, he feels so lucky. Olu’s prick now fully erect in anticipation for tonight’s activities, Zheng pours more lube onto her fingers before wrapping her hand around his length, kissing him deeply as she pumps up and down in a steady rhythm.
He can’t help but whine when Zheng’s hand leaves his prick, enjoying the touch of her soft hand. “Don’t worry babe, it’s Jim’s turn now”
“I’ve got him all ready for you” she whispers to Jim before kissing them.
Jim takes the spot where Zheng just was, he expects Zheng to sit with Archie but instead she sits on the edge of the bed by his head. “Here’s how this is going to work mi amor” Jim explains “I’m going to fuck you whilst Zheng here is going to sit on your face, comprende?”
Olu finds himself nodding excitedly, it’s not the first time they’ve done something like this, and he’s found he enjoys it immensely every single time. He watches eagerly as he partners move around them, Jim toying with the plug still inside of him, Zheng removing her underwear before positioning herself just above his face, he licks his lips in anticipation.
Zheng carefully lowers herself until he can taste her, running his tongue over her folds, he can’t get enough of her sweet taste. As he continues to lick and suck he feels the plug being replaced by Jim’s strap, filling him nicely, their hips rock in a steady rhythm “you like that?” they tease.
He’s not really in a place to respond right now, but soon he hears Archie’s voice. “oh I think he really likes it babe, isn’t that right Olu?” she asks as he feels soft kisses along his broad chest before a gentle nip at his nipple “he loves all this attention” she’s not wrong, there’s a lot of times where he’d be happy to be off to the sidelines, but being doted on like this by his wonderful partners is something he can easily get used to.
An intense heat runs through Olu as the three of them continue to pleasure him, he knows he’s close but he’s enjoying it so much he tries to hold on. Focusing on bringing Zheng to completion he licks and sucks greedly at her clit, pleased at how wet she’s getting and the way he can feel her shiver slightly above him. Soon the moaning increases and she’s completely soaked as he works her through her orgasm.
Between the steady rhythm of Jim’s strap, Archie’s hand which is now on his prick, and watching Zheng come undone from his tongue, he’s close to reaching his own. Zheng lifts herself from his face, sitting beside him, giving him the view of Archie and Jim making out as they continue to pleasure him. It’s nearly enough to send him over the edge, as he announces he’s close, Jim quickens their pace, Archie stroking him through it as white streaks spill over her first.
“You did so good babe” Zheng praises, kissing his neck “you were so good for us”
Soon Jim is cleaning him up whilst Archie and Zheng undo the restraints on his wrists, carefully massaging where the rope had started to rub against the sensitive skin. “Have you had a good birthday?” Zheng whispered.
He nods, “yeah” tonight had been a beautiful reminder of how much they care about him, he felt loved, cherished “I really have”
#ofmd fanfic#ofmd jim#ofmd oluwande#ofmd archie#ofmd zheng#tealoranges#ofmd garlic soup#ofmd polycule#ofmd jim x olu x archie x zheng
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
So. I rewatched RoTT yesterday evening.
I know. How on earth did I cope with that? Why would I torture myself like that? It was because the first time I watched it I was purely feeling emotions of betrayal disappointment and anger. So I'm going to give a quick summary of points in the movie, both bad and good, and debunk common issues fans have with that ending. (Surprisingly it was not as bad as I remembered. Strickler sounded a little croaky but not so much and his design was in need of improving on his hair and eyes, but not much else.)
The kill count was insane. Me and my sister estimated that thousands of people, perhaps more, died. And Archie and Charlemagne are pretty much dead. The whole bridge collapsed.
Positives
Animation was mostly perfect. The fight scenes were beautiful. The expressions were subtle and more realistic.
Voice acting was faultless almost.
It DID have good character interactions, as well as emotional scenes. And the music was pretty amazing too.
Negatives
The fight scenes were monotonous after a while. There were too many and I felt a emotional disconnect after a while. It was a little boring compared to the series.
The only death they put significance on was Toby’s. The others were completely brushed over. And of course largely unnecessary. (writers were cruel to poor Strickler especially).
The script let it down. Some lines were good. But not many.
Okay. Onto the common complaints. Bare in mind I don't like RoTT, and do not consider it Canon.
Jim's decision was selfish. He should have dealt with his grief and not used the kronosphere.
No. It was the opposite. It was selfless. Jim loved Toby like a brother. He loved Strickler like a dad. Douxie lost the only remaining people in his life he loved literally. Nomura was a close friend. Sacrifice comes in different forms. Yes the deaths were stupid. But it showed what a strong drive love is. If it was always meant to be, it will be. Jim made a decision collectively, it was not his decision only. Blinky, Aja, so many agreed it was the correct decision. To save their loved ones.
Jim should not have given the amulet to Toby. Unbecoming showed what would happen if Jim wasn't the Trollhunter.
It was foreshadowed a LOT in Trollhunters. I'm in the middle of rewatching, and twice Toby has been first mistaken as the Trollhunter then called for the glory of Merlin. Toby was the one with the most compassion. He was the one who spared Chomsky he was the only one who called Angor’s name when he died the second time. And Jim is right there. He knows the future, he will not leave Toby. Unbecoming was a vision from Merlin. One that was pretty manipulating. Plus, Draal was the one who shouldn't be chosen.
RoTT makes the other series pointless. It undoes everything.
This is what I'm most pissed about. My mum said it would have made way more sense if the movie events happened before the series, so it didn't feel as much like a gut punch. But I've got a way around this. When Jim tells Strickler he'd like to introduce him to his mom, his expression goes from surprise to a warm smile. That's a weird reaction. It suggests Strickler might have an echo of remembrance. Which is how I think retrieving memories is an almost certain possibility. It happens with Claire too. Even Toby’s reaction to the amulet comes across as glee rather than surprise. This is the dude who thought it was a gaudy bauble in Trollhunters and dismissed it pretty quickly.
So yeah. I'm done. It was bad but not world ending. Please don't kill me. I was looking at it with zero emotion, pure logic. I still don't believe it's Canon. Not true to the characters. There's no feeling of timelessness I get with rewatching Trollhunters, no awe. It was a meh movie that had the potential to be great but fell flat on its face.
#Whoever reads this#I apologise in advance#This is a long post that could have been even longer but I'm tired now#Somehow watching it again has made me feel purged#It doesn't haunt my spirit quite as much#I'm accepting the post RoTT fics as Canon because they're more true to the source than the movie#trollhunters#tales of arcadia#walter strickler#Jim Lake Jr#toby domzalski#RoTT salt#Rise of the titans#Long post#Rewatched RoTT#Movie review
100 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
crackpot
CrackPot
brundungerelle
generic blog
a-sweet-suggestion
My Sweet Suggestions
lavender-roses
Well, hi!
wave06s-illusts
wave