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bangaveragewhitewine · 5 months

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feel the magic

Steve Harrington x Reader

Seven days before Christmas, you find yourself stuck in a snowstorm in the middle of a city you're still finding your place in. You wait out the weather with a handsome stranger.

This prompt is from @allthingsjoeq & @bettyfrommars ❄️ Holiday Prompt Party ❄️ which was so fun! Thank you ladies for sharing these ♥️

You both rush to find shelter in a bookstore or bar during a snowstorm

Word Count: 6.6k

Contents: Set in 90’s Chicago, reader & Steve are both mid-late twenties. Nothing explicit, some kisses and mentions of arousal. Some talk of Steve’s shitty parents. No physical descriptions of reader. Steve Harrington’s charm comes with its own warning.

Note: Thank you @specialagentmonkey for proofreading and being my hype woman as always ♥️

Chicago in December was cold. Very fucking cold.

A million miles from the hot and heavy city you moved to in the summer, there was something about that bitter chill of the air, the frosted pavements and the warm glow of the Christmas lights decked across the city that made it feel like something right out of a movie. You never felt like you could relate to those leading ladies in the romantic comedies and the coming-of-age romances you grew up watching, more like some side-friend character who faded into the background, inconsequential to the plot and action.

It was your first winter in the city, your first Christmas too, and it wasn’t long before you realised that your grandma had been right - investing in a good winter coat was a must for the Windy City. Despite the cold, the shininess of your new adventure in a new city still held up, feeling like the city girl you had always dared to dream of being.

With the holidays too close for comfort - just seven days before you caught a cab to O’Hare to make the journey home - you cashed in some of your overtime and finished work early to hit the city to get the last few presents for friends and family.

The snow had started just before you left the office, a light dusting that made your shopping trip feel even more magical. You had carefully stowed your camera in your bag to snap shots of the big tree at Civic Centre and the lights around City Hall to show your Mom and friends at home. When the snow started to come down heavier and heavier, the fluffy fat flakes falling in the shot made it feel more magical.

As you looked around, soaked in the festivity of it all, you thought that maybe for one day you could play pretend and let yourself feel like the glossy, confident main character of the movie in your head.

By six o’clock the magic of it all had well worn off and you were ready to go home. Your wool winter coat kept you warm-cheeked and overheating as you waited in line in Macy’s to pay for a scarf and fancy hand cream that your Aunt would fake-smile at before tossing it to the side. It felt like years since you had stepped inside the huge store, some sort of liminal purgatory where time didn’t exist and it was far too easy to get lost amongst the shiny Christmas displays and the disorienting overstimulation of the cosmetics and fragrances department.

Your head was surely going to explode if you heard some poor impression of Bing Crosby crooning another Christmassy jingle over the store’s speakers. You were feeling distinctly less festive and fun now - less merry and bright, more murderous and bad-tempered.

Over the tinny muzak and the scratch of your scarf on your too-warm neck, you tuned into the conversation going on behind you.

“That snow is really coming down, huh?”

“Didn’t you hear? It’s some sorta weather-bomb - only going to get heavier.”

You and every other shopper within earshot looked toward the windows, seeing the white flurry instead of the warm glow of Christmas lights.

You became all too aware of the sheer number of bags you were carrying, weighed down with books and gifts and trinkets, the heft of your camera and the bottle of wine you had bought to sip when you got home. The overheated parts of you longed to be cool again, but this felt like some sort of karmic mockery. The tad-too-short-for-work skirt you had chanced and got away with that day felt minuscule beneath your coat as you imagined how cold a weather-bomb was going to be.

By the time you paid and politely refused gift-wrapping for your purchase, the snowstorm had thrown the city into chaos. Traffic was at a near standstill when you reached the front door on State Street, the sidewalks packed with shoppers and commuters battling through the snow and each other to find a way home.

The subway entrance was one street away but seeing the pushing and shoving crowd cramming themselves underground made you feel claustrophobic, twisting hot panic in your gut. Maybe the stop before might be less crazy, you thought, hoping for a better chance of getting home sometime before midnight, so you squeezed away from the crowd and braved the worsening blizzard.

The magic of Christmas had almost fully waned now, despite the snowball fights starting up amongst the gridlocked traffic. You just wanted to get home, feel your fingers and toes again perhaps. You picked your steps through the icy streets, trying not to slip or whack other flustered pedestrians with your bags; they didn’t have the same courtesy or kindness. Patience and Christmas cheer had worn thin, battered by heavy snow.

“Watch it!” one sharp-elbowed woman hissed over her furry coat collar as she shouldered past you, sending you off-balance just as a rogue snowball hit your shoulder.

Had your feet not been aching so badly, you would have stamped like a toddler.

“Bitch.” Your frustrated whisper went unheard as you continued down the block, squinting to pick out a landmark to orient yourself in the snowy city.

You tucked yourself into a side street to regroup and take a breath, attempting to condense your too-many shopping bags to protect the preciously picked-out presents inside. The welcoming glow of a bar sign caught your eye, a blinking beacon through the fluster of snow.

Tucked away down the side street, The Snug appeared like a mirage. Twinkling Christmas lights blurred by the steamed-up windows winked at you, inviting you inside. It was fate.

Surely the snow will stop soon, you thought as you gathered yourself again. One drink and some fries would be plenty of time to let the streets and subways settle.

The cold air made your nose and lungs feel spikey-sore after a few deep steadying breaths. With your bags clutched safely in your hands, you picked your steps toward the almost-hidden bar, dodging patches of ice to get to the door.

Inside was cosy-calm, with clusters of friends and a few fellow solo drinkers hiding from the heavy snow and chaos. It was quieter than the streets and packed subways, their chatter backed by songs queued up from a jukebox glowing in the corner.

You squeezed yourself and your bags into a free booth, taking a load off with a sigh that pulled the tension all the way up from the tips of your toes.

Daringly, you chanced a look in your compact to assess the damage of a day of shopping and going head-to-head with the bitter cold front. Mascara smudged beneath your eyes, hair a riot.

“Shit,” you murmured, pulling the attention from the man at the next table.

He smiled, sympathetic when he saw your flustered state. “You look like you’re in the right place.”

After blowing hair from your face you returned a tight smile. “Thanks, I think.”

His brown eyes widened. “Oh no, no... I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, horrified that he had offended you.

You shook your head, “No, I get it. I look insane. It’s been a day.” Handbag in hand, you looked at him again, smiling a little softer at the flustered stranger. “Could you keep an eye on my bags for a sec? I’m just going to the ladies' room. And the bar.”

The man nodded, sitting back in his chair. “Sure, go for it. I’ll guard them with my life.”

You didn’t miss his charming smile, or the pink tint of embarrassment that lingered on his cheeks after accidentally telling you the truth about just how crazy you looked. You caught the subtle once-over he gave you after your coat was removed and hoped that your sixty-denier tights hadn’t laddered. Your cheeks felt warm again as you made your way to the ladies' room, purse in hand to wrangle your messy hat-hair and fix your face.

As you patted rose-tinted balm onto your lips, you quietly hoped that first impressions could be overwritten.

Armed with a glass of red wine and your receipt for a basket of fries, you returned to your table and tried not to sigh too obnoxiously (or moan) at the relief of sitting down. At the next table, the brown-eyed man was looking over a piece of paper and tapping his pen against his full lower lip.

“Thanks, Stranger,” you said, looking and feeling at least ten times better.

“Oh. You’re welcome,” he said, smiling distractedly before raising his half-drunk beer to you.

You raised your glass in return, sharing that little smile with the stranger before plucking one of the new books from your cluster of bags to distract your busy mind.

Wine and a book in a cosy bar? Maybe the day had not entirely gone to shit.

The stranger went back to his list, and you tried not to let your gaze linger too long on his broad shoulders or his sharp jaw. He looked like he had just finished work, a few shirt buttons undone beneath his navy blazer, his coat and scarf bundled on the chair opposite him with one lonely Macy’s bag on top. You watched him push his honeyed hair back, raking his fingers through the strands falling over his forehead. It was easy to forget to even open your book to start reading in favour of being distracted by him.

There was no denying he was attractive. And there was no denying that you were caught looking when his brown eyes met yours and his lips twitched with a charming smile.

“Steve.”

“Huh?” Wide-eyed, and flushed-hot with embarrassment, you could not find a quick way to explain away your gazing.

“You called me ‘stranger’ before. My name’s Steve.”

“Oh. Of course. Steve.” You gave him your name, watching how he smiled when you said it before repeating it as you had done with his.

“Pretty name. Guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I guess not.”

His mouth curved up as he lifted his glass again, taking a slow sip. Your eyes drifted to two perfect moles on his neck as he swallowed; they matched the twin set on his cheek.

Some sort of alarm started to scream in your head; you had forgotten the feeling of being flirted with. If that’s what this was.

“Christmas shopping?” he asked, nodding to your bags.

“Yeah, just about have everything,” you said, “Now I have to wrap it all.” After a steadying sip of wine as your fries arrived, you watched how he twirled his pen between thick fingers, names left uncrossed on the paper in front of him. “Are you stuck?”

Steve slumped back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head before running his fingers through his hair again, making it messy in the most artfully effortless way. “Yeah, a little.” He rubbed his face before looking at you again. “Um, can I pick your brains? I don’t wanna impose…”

This was never how your day was supposed to go. As the snowstorm raged on outside, inside the cosiness of the bar felt like a whole other world miles from your planned evening of gift-wrapping and most of a bottle of wine. Instead, surrounded by soggy shopping bags, you found yourself with the attention of an Adonis-like stranger. You felt like it was some sort of fair deal from the universe.

When you made the move to the city, started afresh with this new chapter, you made yourself promise to take life as it came and not be too uptight. Maybe this was all part of the flow you had vowed to go with…

Smiling at Steve, you pushed your unopened book to the side and leaned forward on your arms, “Sure. Go for it.”

Steve relocated to your booth after a few minutes of chatting. An hour and a half later, he had made himself at home opposite you with his bright smile and dreamy dark eyes.

The bar had become a refuge to a few more bodies seeking shelter from the bitter cold front raging outside. He didn’t need much convincing to share your booth, freeing up the table for a couple huddled together over hot whiskies.

You had insisted on sharing your fries with Steve as you gave suggestions on what he could buy for the last few names on his list. A second basket and another round of drinks had been ordered on his tab when you realised that neither of you would be going home any time soon.

With a greasy-hot fry between your fingers, you tried not to drool over his thick forearms as he rolled up his shirtsleeves, and went back to navigating Steve’s complex network of friends-turned-family.

“So he’s your ex-girlfriend’s little brother? And you stayed friends… because he’s friends with Dustin…? Who’s like your brother?”

As you figured out who the hell ‘Mike’ was, Steve nodded encouragingly and chewed another fry.

“You got it.” His straight white teeth glinted in the warm light of the bar.

“And his sister - Mike’s sister, your ex-girlfriend, Nancy… Is Robin’s girlfriend now? Robin, your best friend?”

“Yep. See, told you you’d wrap your head around it eventually.” His smile was proud as he nudged the fries your way again.

You took two more fries as your reward before nudging the basket back to Steve. You tried not to focus on the way the fries had left his lips shiny, or the pink glow on his cheeks when he caught you staring. Again.

When you realised that this serendipitous stranger who gave you butterflies wasn’t someone else’s boyfriend, you dropped your shoulders and your guard and relaxed into the booth more. You willed yourself to relax, to go with the flow. It was not difficult to let yourself sink deeper into those warm brown eyes of Steve’s as he slowly upped his flirtations and snuck his own barely subtle glances at your lips.

He was smooth.

Steve tapped the paper list with his finger, transferring more salt and oil from the fries to the now annotated and doodled-on list.

“So, any suggestions? He’s the hardest one to buy for, so of course I got him for Secret Santa. Again.” He leaned his head back against the booth. “He’s a little dweeb. Big dweeb now. Taller than me.”

He spoke with such fondness of the kid he swore didn’t like him. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that Steve was maybe one of the most thoughtful people you had ever met. Most of what you had learned about him had been through what he told you about his friends - where he grew up, his collection of poorly paid jobs after high school before going to college in Indianapolis, then onto Chicago. His best friends were never far behind. He would be spending the Holidays with friends and their families instead of his own, which he seemed perfectly fine about.

He was funny too, heavy-handed with charm and kindness. You were definitely done for.

Steve Harrington seemed like an enigma, one you would happily devote hours and hours to figuring out.

The basket fries were pushed back and forth and you wracked your brains to think of a gift for this random college kid you didn’t know. The barman announced that the snow was still coming down heavily, and to make yourselves at home. You had lost all track of time, cosy in the bubble of the booth with your new friend.

His brown eyes fixed on you as he rested his chin in his hand. “All you wanted was a quiet drink and a place to hide from the snow, and now you’re helping some dork with his shopping list. M’sorry, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The butterflies in your gut swooped.

Warm-cheeked, you shrugged, “I don’t mind. It’s distracting me from panicking about how I’ll get home, or if I’ll ever get home. I’m still figuring out the subways.” Picking at the crisp ends of the fries, you tried not to get lost looking into his shiny amber eyes. “I was only going home to wrap presents anyway.”

Steve smiled when you mirrored him, cheek resting on your hand.

“I think this isn’t such a bad way to spend the evening, Steve.”

A pink glow - not entirely from his beer - warmed Steve’s face and he looked down at his almost empty glass. You would think he was being bashful had there not been a grin spreading on his handsome face.

“Oh, you’re trouble.”

You shrugged, attempting to play coy. “What were you supposed to be doing tonight? What are you missing to be here with some strange girl?”

Steve shrugged. “Well, I was Christmas shopping, like you. Killing time. I was supposed to meet my buddy for dinner and drinks, came in to use the phone to cancel when the snow got bad. I’ll catch up with him tomorrow.”

“A buddy on your list?” You asked, nodding to the piece of paper.

“Mhm. Eddie. He didn’t mind too much, I’ll make it up to him.” He sipped his drink again. “He has a gig tomorrow night, so I’ll see if I can help with lifting amps and shit.”

“He’s the heavy metal guy?” you asked, remembering back to Steve labelling him as so easy to buy for.

Steve had not smiled so much in weeks, maybe months. With you, tucked away in The Snug, he basked in the ache in his cheeks, the way you laughed, how you remembered little things about him and his friends.

“I hope these friends of yours realise how much you love them, Steve.”

He liked that blunt edge of your delivery too.

You watched him fluster a little for the second time that evening.

“I do mean that. You’re putting so much of yourself into these presents, not just… I don’t know, throwing money at stuff. There’s so much thought in all of these.” You tapped the paper for emphasis, recognising a little of yourself in the way Steve put thought into his gifts for the ones he loved.

You knew the sting of that thoughtfulness not being returned, or even noticed.

Watching Steve flounder, seeing him resonate with your assessment, you felt a sinking stone in your chest. Too much. Too far. He was still a stranger, a stranger you were practically snowed in with and had probably developed some sort of cabin-fever-bond with, and you had to push it.

“Sorry. Shit. Steve, I should just shut up. I don’t know you, or your friends. I would be so mad if some stranger just-”

His hand, his much bigger, warmer hand, reached for yours and squeezed.

“Stop. It’s okay.” Steve squeezed again, his palm warm as it curved around your hand. “What you said, it’s true. I.. Shit.” He smiled, a sadness in his eyes you had not seen and blamed yourself for, “Here I am dumping my baggage on you.”

Steve sighed but didn’t let your hand go. You didn’t mind; you didn’t want him to.

“My parents just threw money at gifts for me. Totally impersonal shit I didn’t need, or want. They didn’t know me or what I liked, all for appearances and shit like that.” You watched soft fondness pull at the corner of his mouth. “So I put thought into stuff for my friends. They’re my family now. They annoy the hell out of me some days, but I want them to know… I dunno, that I listen. That I hear them. And see them, what they like…”

He trailed off when you turned your hand beneath his and squeezed.

“That’s the sweetest, Steve. They’re very lucky to have you.” Your voice was a gentle murmur, loud enough for him to hear.

He shrugged, playing smooth again despite the reality check he had been dealt. “M’the lucky one. They’re buttheads, but they have my back too. Promise.”

You nodded and tried not to flush when you looked at your joined hands.

“Tell me something about you then, Steve… I don’t even know your last name. What’s your favourite colour?”

He smiled again, back on some new track now after that detour to the trauma dump. “I like yellow. I usually say blue, because when I say yellow people look at me like I’m crazy or somethin’. Yellow. Definitely.”

It clicked then, the warmth of his smile and his presence glowed like yellow sunshine and the golden bulbs of Christmas lights that could warm up the most frigid places. Warm like melted butter on toast and the glow of the lamp beside your bed for reading late into the night. It made you feel warm despite the winter cold.

“And it’s Harrington. Steve Harrington.”

“Yellow suits you, Steve Harrington.”

You and Steve moved on to clove-heavy hot whiskies as you traded questions back and forth, learning about each other little by little. You found it hard not to fall a little bit in love with him as he became less of a stranger to you.

He played basketball in school and swam competitively. His favourite films were Top Gun and Dirty Dancing. He preferred pancakes over waffles and didn’t like bacon on his burgers. You spoke briefly about what you did for work and focused instead on trivial things that showed each other the real you, the real Steve Harrington.

What’s your middle name?

Best Halloween costume?

Most important question ever, crunchy or smooth?

He was as close to perfect as you had ever dreamed someone could be.

Two middle names, Henry Michael.

Maverick, or Sandy from Grease - don’t ask, I’m not drunk enough.

Crunchy, duh. Have you tried it with honey instead of jelly?

A tiny cynical part of you waited for something about him to dislike. You could have kept waiting, kept wondering, but instead you decided to relent to the simple serendipity of it all. Maybe there was nothing to dislike about Steve (Henry Michael) Harrington, and that was perfectly okay.

You sat alone at the table, watching Steve’s broad back as he leaned against the bar to get change for the jukebox. That golden glow of his made him like the North Star in the business of the bar; simultaneously exciting you and making you deliciously nervous.

The first couple of people left the bar to bravely trek home through the mean cold streets a little after nine, promising to call to let the bar staff know they got back safe and advise whether others should stay or chance the journey home. Everyone had agreed to a lock-in until morning if the snow didn’t stop or if the conditions got too dangerous.

You all waited on a collective breath for the phone to ring; drinks flowed, and conversations continued and deepened over strong drinks. Feeling comfortably blurred around the edges, the spirits stayed high despite the less-than-perfect circumstances.

The shrill ringing of the phone behind the bar pulled the air from the room, silence fell.

Home safe. The barman gave a thumbs up and relayed the message that the streets were walkable, a few taxis were running if you were lucky to catch one.

Steve’s searching gaze found yours as everyone else cheered. The bubble had burst.

His smile was a little sad, matching yours despite the good news that you could actually go home. He held up a finger, ‘one sec’, and darted to the jukebox with his handful of change to queue up some songs before you had to say goodbye.

Goodbye.

You didn’t want to say goodbye to Steve Harrington.

A heavy weight settled in your chest as you took stock of your bags, distracting yourself until Steve settled himself across from you again. His hand patted the smooth table top twice, head tilted to look at your face.

“Y’okay?” he asked. “Guess it’s good that we don’t need to sleep here tonight..?”

“Mhm. Definitely. Just… trying to figure out how long it’s going to take me to get home,” you said, not totally a lie. Your smile didn’t meet your eyes, even though you looked forward to getting into your cosy bed with the brushed cotton bedsheets and your fuzzy flannel pyjamas.

“Me too. What way are you headed?” Steve said, an innocent glimmer of hopefulness in his eyes.

When you told him where you lived he nodded. “M’not far from there. I’d… really like to walk you home, if that’s okay? Or try to find a cab…We could share?” Steve rambled a little, his smooth exterior cracking. “Fuck it. I want to make sure you get home safe, and I like talking to you. A little part of me was hoping we’d get snowed in or something so stupid so I could spend more time with you.”

You looked at him across the table, wide-eyed as your heart hammered in your chest.

“Is that crazy of me? I’m coming on way too strong, aren’t I?”

“Steve.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “That would be really great. I kinda hoped the same. I’d like it if you walked me home.”

His smile was blinding as he took your hand between both of his, warm and large. “Okay, great. Cool.”

“Cool,” you echoed, placing your other hand on top of his like a stack as you tried not to giggle or kick your feet.

The familiar opening chords of Old Time Rock and Roll played from the jukebox, making you both grin wider at each other.

“It’s a classic, I couldn’t not put it on,” he said.

You threw your head back, laughing happily as Steve murmur-sang along with Bob Seger, bobbing his head as he crooned quietly for you. You knew about the scar on his arm from when he recreated that scene at a party; slid too hard, right into his mother’s second-favourite vase as his friends cheered him on (then drove him to the ER).

“Don’t tell me you put something from Dirty Dancing on next, Steve,” you teased, seeing his eyes sparkle with a sly sweetness. “Steve!”

Your laugh made him feel tingly-warm all over.

“It’s not Time of My Life or She’s Like the Wind, promise,” he said, smirking as he kept his cards close to his chest. “Promise. We can go when it’s over. If you’re ready to head out?”

You nodded, squeezing his hands before rooting in your bag for your gloves. Knowing that you didn’t have to part ways just yet made the idea of being out in the cold a little more tolerable.

“You been taking photos of the lights?” Steve asked, picking up your camera from the table after taking it out of your bag.

He remembered that ‘new in town’ excitement, still had the photos of him with Robin in front of the tree at Civic Centre (fresh-faced and pink-cheeked after too much mulled wine). The big tree had been nothing on their own lovably wonky tree in their tiny apartment, decorated with cheap baubles and coloured lights and tinsel that shed so much .

“Yeah, to show my Mom. Super cheesy, I know,” you rolled your eyes and watched as Steve turned it so carefully in his hands. “Might get some snaps of the snow, to remember tonight.”

As Steve nodded, an idea bobbed to the surface of your mind.

“Steve? Feel free to say no but… Could I get one of us? To remember…”

As if you would ever forget the night you met Steve Harrington.

Steve watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, let his eyes linger before catching your eyes. You saw the whiskey-brown disappear, swallowed by deep black pupils.

“Only if you get me a copy of it.”

His voice was low, smooth, and made your thighs squeeze - not for the first time that evening either. Without saying as much, you knew it meant he would like to see you again, that he didn’t want to forget you either.

You kept your voice remarkably cool and calm, despite the urge to squeal and kick your feet. “Yeah. Of course…”

He winked before leaning over to catch the attention of the woman at the next table, checking with you before he passed your camera to her with that bright charming smile of his.

The woman directed you both to lean in a little across the small booth table, taking her task very seriously. “You two look great! So cute!” she said, beaming behind the camera.

The opening bars of Hungry Eyes started up as she counted down.

It made the perfect picture; Steve grinning as he watched a giggle burst from your smiling lips. Your head was spinning, your heart beating hard in your chest - when you looked at that photo in years to come, you would never forget that feeling.

He thanked the woman and took the camera back as you soaked the lyrics in, thinking of Steve instead of Swayze. As you tucked the camera away, you realised that the song said more than either of you were brave enough to say out loud.

I feel the magic between you and I…

When your glasses were empty, when the butterflies had settled again, you began to wrap yourselves in your scarves and coats, hats and gloves, and gather your bags and belongings before braving the cold together.

The warmth in your bones from the bar was quickly extinguished by the bitter air outside, though you couldn’t pretend that the snow was not beautiful. A little post-apocalyptic perhaps, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Fuck, that’s cold,” Steve hissed, his words turning to vapour as you set off together, leaving footprints side by side in the crunchy snow.

“No shit,” you teased, giggling at Steve’s scowl.

The combination of frigid air and the alcohol in your blood made you feel delightfully dizzy. Steve’s hair was crushed beneath his beanie hat, the longer ends peeking out beneath between his turned-up coat collar and scarf. Something about how much hair he could squeeze under that fine (expensive) knit hat made you feel terribly fond and giddy about it.

“Okay, smartass. You were such a nice girl in the bar,” he tutted, teasing you back.

“Tricked you,” you shrugged, “I was never nice.” Your chattering teeth make your playful quips much less believable - as if Steve couldn’t see right through you.

“C’mere. Stick by me, we’ll either stay warm or freeze together.” Hooking a hand around your arm, Steve pulled you close to share body heat. Closer than you had been in the bar, body to body, you found that you fit nicely under his arm. Spicy-warm notes of his cologne mixed with whispers of cigarette smoke buried deep in the wool of his coat.

You smiled up at him, a shiver of nervousness down your spine as you realised you were alone together - actually alone now - for the first time.

“This okay?” he asked, pink nose matching his cheeks as he steered you both through the snow.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling back. With your arm wrapped around the thickness of his torso, you squeezed gently and hoped he could feel it through the winter layers. His grin told you he did.

You walked in silence for a while, carrying the weight of ‘when can I see you again?’ and ‘please tell me you feel that spark too?’ with all of your shopping bags.

“Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah?” His eyes shone, sparkled with something when he looked down at you.

“We still haven’t figured out a present for Mike…”

Steve hung his head, eyes squeezed shut as your feet slowed down. “This fuckin’ kid.”

He lifted his head after sighing so hard you swore he was going to turn inside out.

“Mike Wheeler is going to be the death of me, I swear to god,” he said, speaking up to the sky. “He’s getting a Sam Goody gift card. Done. I don’t care anymore.”

“Steve Harrington, you can’t pussy-out and get him a gift card,” you tutted, leaning your weight against him to make him swerve.

The way Steve’s laugh echoed through the empty snow-capped streets made your heart flutter. “You did not just accuse me of being a pussy. You’re breaking my heart here, baby.”

When he looked down at you, eyes sparkling with mirth rather than genuine hurt from your playful betrayal, you could not miss how his tongue darted out to wet his pretty pink lips.

Baby echoed in your ears, warming you from the inside.

“You cannot get him a gift card.” Voice quiet and insistent, you squeezed him again, “Think, Steve.”

“I am.” Played-up-pathetic, Steve’s whiney voice made you double-take and giggle at him. “He’s impossible.”

“No one is impossible. Tell me what he likes again. Don’t say ‘nerd shit’, Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes and you poked his ribs, far too cosy and familiar with the man who was a stranger just a few hours ago.

“Dungeons and Dragons, weed,” he listed, “He writes stuff sometimes, films, uh… Taco Bell?”

“He likes films too?”

“Mm. Studying film. Wants to be a screenwriter or somethin’...”

You hummed and looked up at the clear sky for an answer. “How about… a framed film poster?”

“Say more.” Steve looked down at you, prettier than the stars ever could be.

You forced yourself not to look at his lips, knowing you were a weak tipsy woman at heart. “Well, what’s his favourite film? Posters are pretty easy to find, a nice-ish frame. Slap a bow on it, Merry Christmas, Mike.”

Padded fingers tapped your upper arm as Steve thought, wracking his brains. “When they were kids, they dressed up as Ghostbusters for Halloween. Recreated it this year. Oh, you’re a fuckin’ genius!”

Steve squeezed you tight against his side, and with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, scooped you up with admirable ease to spin around in the snow.

“Steve!” your voice was an undignified yelp, cracked with laughter.

“You’ve saved Christmas!” Steve’s smiling face was brighter than any Christmas lights guiding your path home. Still turning with you, slower now and more careful, he rested his forehead against yours and murmured, “You’re some kinda miracle, baby.”

Steve’s warm whiskey-tinted words whispered over your mouth. Your breath was caught, choked in a gasp in your throat, as he slowed down his spinning to ease you down onto the snowy empty road. Arms still wrapped around each other, shopping bags crushed and be-damned, you stood toe to toe just looking at each other.

“Can I..?” Quietly smooth and charming, Steve’s eyes dipped to your lips.

Instead of giving him an answer, using your words like a big girl, you grabbed a handful of his coat to bring your mouths together in a kiss.

Christmas lights twinkled above you, like movie magic or fairy dust. Lips pressed and lingered, kisses slow and sweet. It was everything you dreamed it would be, better even as Steve hauled you closer still and traced his nose against yours.

Smiling, breaths warming each other’s faces, you let Steve lead the next kiss - after all he had asked so nicely. One gloved hand on your cheek, his lips slotted with yours before he deepened the kiss with a tenderness that made your bones ache. Had he not been holding you so close, had you not been moored safely in the circle of his arms, you would have surely swooned.

His kisses warmed you, sending sparks through your limbs as his tongue grazed yours with a promise of more. You felt his lips tug and smile in response to the tiny gasping noise that escaped from your throat. Slowly, so sweetly, he kissed the side of your mouth and up to the warm apple of your cheek.

“Wanted to do that all night,” he murmured, making sure you were steady to stand before peeling away slightly.

“Me too.” You grinned, a giggle barely held behind your teeth. “Knew you were looking at my lips.”

“Oh yeah? Should’ve kissed you sooner then.” A smiling peck pressed to your lips as your reward, your gold star for being so observant, before you righted and reoriented yourselves for the rest of the walk home.

With most of your bags in Steve’s steady hand (the one that was not keeping you close to his side), you trekked together toward home as more frosty flakes fell from the dark night sky.

The heat of your kiss had melted something more between you, both relieved that you weren’t the delusional one, that you both felt that same something.

Without much traffic, meeting only a few other pedestrians trekking home in the snow, it felt like the journey was about to end far too soon. You passed and pointed out the place where you got your photo-film developed, your favourite diner, Steve’s favourite coffee place which happened to be by the bookstore you liked.

“I don’t wanna be presumptuous,” Steve said, “But I’d love to see you again.” He looked down at your face, feeling his heart beat harder. “I’ve never met someone like you… Y’know, when you click right away?”

“I’d like that, Steve. I’d like that so much.” Butterfly wings fluttered hard in your chest as you watched his smile melt onto his handsome face. “Anyway, I want to know how that Secret Santa goes down.”

His grin was brighter than the snow. “You have full credit for that, honey.” Smiling lips kissed your forehead, just where your hat ended. He had scribbled his number on a clean napkin back at the bar, tucked it in his pocket to slip to you if (when) you said yes to seeing him again.

You let yourself lean into him, nuzzling his cologne-and-smoke-spiced arm before sighing. With your door in sight, you took a breath and made yourself be brave.

“This is me, just up here.”

You spotted the recognition on Steve’s face. This was goodnight - at least it wasn’t goodbye.

“We’re not so far from each other. I’m like.. Five blocks that way.” He pointed off to the left, somewhere you did not bother to follow in favour of looking up at Steve.

Now or never. This didn’t have to be goodnight…

“Hey, so I don't love the idea of you out here on your own in the snow. What if you freeze into an ice cube, or slip and crack your head?”

As your teeth grazed your lower lip, you watched his cheek pulse as he tried not to smile at your dreamed-up worries. Your own smile was barely hidden, ducked briefly behind your thick scarf.

“Huh. I didn’t think of that.” Steve bobbed his head, faux-thoughtful as he considered his next steps. “Pretty perilous…”

“Christmas would be cancelled…” You bit the inside of your cheek.

“Oh shit, you think?” his brows raised beneath his beanie, a knowing smile gave him away. You couldn’t possibly match Steve’s smooth charm.

You took a little breath in before asking the question you both knew the answer to.

“So, you might… You could stay the night? With me. If you want to.”

Steve measured himself and tried not to be too eager at the thought of more time with you, more kisses. “You sure?” he asked, glancing up at your building before looking right back at you.

You nodded slowly, smiling when you spotted the fresh snowflakes on his lashes, dusted over his broad shoulders too. “Mmhm. I’m sure.”

Steve smiled, closing the gap between you to kiss you again as the snow fell. “Then I’ll stay.”

Thank you for reading💙 Likes, reblogs and comments are loved, cherished and stored in a little locket 💙

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #90's steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington x f!reader #promptparty #steve harrington #holiday prompt party #steve harrington fanfic #bangaveragefics

329 notes · View notes

icallhimjoey · 8 months

Note

when is Tupperwear Joe™ dropping his new leftovers recipe for us? 😊

right nooooooooooow baby Wordcount: 4.2K

---

More Than This

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe'd seen you.

You'd not seen Joe.

You know how sometimes you can just be going about your day when suddenly, a feeling of uneasiness takes you in a chokehold? The unsettling and deeply uncomfortable feeling that triggers the fight or flight response your mother installed within you when speaking of dangerous men who would try to lure you into their vans with empty promises?

The self-checkout voice was screaming at you about an unexpected item in the bagging area – there wasn’t one, you’d only just placed one item down – when you felt it. Only for a second.

The feeling of eyes on you sort of touched you on the arm and made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You were quick to look around, to scan the area, to see if you were being delusional or not.

Who was watching you right now?

There were plenty of people about, all seemingly doing what you were doing – picking up some quick food, anything easy and quick to make, quick to put together, because it was the end of the week, and it was late, and the weather had been unforgiving and–... you were lazy.

Simple as. Just very lazy.

You always pretended to be a classy French lady going to the market to just pick up the ingredients for a one-person meal for the evening, but in reality, you were just a lazy sad excuse of an adult who was about to microwave mash and not complain about how fucking bland it tasted.

You couldn’t see anyone paying attention to you... but you still felt it.

“Unexpected item in bagging area, remove this item before continuing,”

“For fuck’s sake, there’s nothing–” you took the item off the bagging area, plonked it back down and picked it back up again when the self-checkout bitch wouldn’t stop.

Someone was watching you. You felt it. Knew it. There were eyes on you. You became hyper-vigilant, looking around once again to confirm you weren’t crazy. You ducked into your shoulders when you glanced at the sliding doors of the entrance and saw a figure stood there, staring directly at you, making you jump.

You clutched your chest and felt how the adrenaline-rush shot down into your feet, hurting your toes.

What the fuck was Joe doing here?

He smirked at little at your reaction, the way you closed your eyes to seemingly collect yourself from the scare you got of unexpectedly seeing him just outside the shop.

Before you could even raise up a middle finger, a spotty teenager came up beside you and used the card on his lanyard to reset whatever was wrong and shut up the machine.

“Thanks,” you said after it’d been sorted, and you went on to scan all your embarrassing processed foods whilst doing your best to ignore Joe outside the sliding doors. You could see him from the corners of your eyes now and knew he wasn’t going to just wave at you and leave. He was waiting for you there.

After paying, getting the receipt, and collecting everything, you turned to walk towards him.

Joe looked at his wrist like he was checking the time – there was no watch there – and then looked back up at you like he was in a hurry and you’d taken ages. Made you smile and shake your head at him because he was being an idiot.

In the couple of steps it took to get to him, he raised his eyebrows up at you in question and gave a quick nod sideways.

In the direction of where he lived.

Joe’d spotted you buying dinner and waited to ask you if you wanted to go over to his place right now.

Was that what was happening?

“You’re such a creep,” were the first things out of your mouth when the sliding doors opened to let you out.

“I was on my way out when I saw you walk in,” Joe explained, and you saw he was also holding a plastic bag, main difference being his held fresh produce, leeks sticking out the top and everything.

“Still, that fucking scared me,” you laughed, and like it was second nature, when Joe held out an arm for you to link yours through, you just... did. Fell into step together. On the way over to his flat.

When you realised what you must’ve looked like to outsiders’ eyes, you were quick to unlink your arm from his. Pretended to need to check your phone to not make it seem weird.

“Nice to see you don’t just save the scolding for me,” Joe joked, and you rolled your eyes all annoyed, mocked the unexpected item in bagging area under your breath and made Joe huff out a laugh.

“Serves you right for buying ready-made mash,” Joe winced as he said it, mouthed ‘what the fuck’ at the bag in your hands straight after.

“Oi, piss off. Mind your business.”

You shoved him slightly, making him smile before stepping back and trying to get a peek of your shopping.

“What other atrocious shit you got in there?”

“Mind your business. I can buy whatever I want.” You moved the bag slightly more away from him, then said, “I can do whatever I want.” which got a hearty laugh from Joe. One people on the other side of the street could hear and made them look in your direction.

“Yea, no, I know. You’ve made that very clear.”

Ew. You didn’t like how Joe said that. You steered the conversation back to the food in your bag.

“If I want buy microwavable meals exclusively and spend the night sat on my sofa instead of cutting leeks in the kitchen for over an hour, that’s just what I’ll do.” You shot a judgmental look at Joe’s shopping when you said leeks. Like that was something you could be making fun of.

Joe frowned as a chuckle escaped him. “Cutting leeks for over an hour? Darling, where did you learn to cook?”

You held up your bag a little, ignored the way he called you darling.

“I didn’t.”

When you finally made it to Joe’s flat, everything felt a little different than it usually did. You never really made your way up to his flat together. It was always you making your way up by yourself after some spicy texting and then you’d just... get straight down to it.

Now, you were both carrying shopping and were having conversation, sort of, and even though the implications of why you’d even gone with Joe in the first place were clear from the start, this was different.

Neither of you seemed horny yet.

So now what?

Think fast.

Joe let you into his flat, put his bag down on the floor as he took his jacket off and you knew you only had a small window of time. If you’d wait too long, Joe’d get you into his kitchen with him to cook a whole ass meal together or whatever.

Like, he’d put some music on and make you wash your hands and wear an apron before he’d teach you things about how to peel a potato. He would curl himself around you to help as you’d be terrible at it and very nearly would peel your own hands in tandem.

Couldn’t have that.

None of the soft shit.

So, before Joe could pick his shopping back up and take it over to the kitchen, you stepped in close and placed your palm over him just below his belt.

Joe froze, and you heard how his breath got caught in his throat. For a second, neither of you moved. Then, you squeezed a little. Pressed down a little.

“I thought we’d get some dinner in first,”

See? You fucking knew it. Knew Joe was going to try some sappy shit.

“But I’m hungry,” you whined a little, tried to make it sound a little breathy to get him hard faster as you pressed your body into his side.

“Yea, that’s why–”

“Hungry.”

You saw realisation hit Joe in real time. Got to see how quick he was to catch on, and when he did, he dropped his head forward. Let you touch him over his jeans a little longer as he just stood there, focussing on what your hand was doing.

“Yea,” he then said softly, followed by a more determined, “Yea, all right,” before reaching for your face and ducking down to kiss you.

Amazing.

Little touching of his dick and tits pressed up against his arm was all it fucking took.

Buttons were undone quickly, hands frantically pulling at fabric, jeans getting caught around shoes, and whilst each of you was quick to undo yourself of clothes, neither of you could withhold from helping the other where you saw fit.

You helped Joe yank his T-shirt down his arms after he pulled the back of it over his head. Joe yanked up one of your legs to undo the foot of a shoe as you were trying work your jeans down.

And talented as you were, whilst all of this was going on, you were also moving towards Joe’s bedroom leaving a trail of clothing from two bags of shopping that desperately needed the fridge all the way to Joe’s bed.

You continued to try your best at non-intimate sex. Have the intimacy just be of two bodies being close, but have it end there. Significant emotional disconnection worked a lot better if you weren’t facing him, so when flopping down onto the bed, you were quick to mount Joe in reverse.

Held onto his legs just above his knees. Heard him fumble himself into a condom behind you and only took a quick glance over your shoulder, then down between your legs to check before you helped and guided him inside.

Primarily focussing on the physical aspect of it all, you made sure that this was nothing more than fulfilling a biological need. Just a release. Just the way you liked it.

No deep emotional connection.

Minimal communication.

No soft shit.

You needed it all to go fast, and to go hard, and you knew if you left it up to Joe, you’d get neither. Being op top and faced away from him was crucial, and you felt weirdly proud for getting your way without it having been an awkward scuffle across his sheets.

It was good like this.

Felt good like this.

But then Joe’s fingertips started trailing up your back, stroking and caressing before they went all the way up beyond your shoulder blades. Softly squeezed your neck where they massaged and disappeared up into your hair a little and scratched your scalp and, fucking hell, why was Joe always trying to make everything all romantic?

You whined a little, more out of annoyance than anything else, but you knew Joe could’ve easily contributed it to pleasure. When he moved his hands back down your spine, you were quick to grab them as they rounded out to hold you by the hips.

“Yea, yea,” you breathed, your grip on his fingers strengthening in an example of you needing him to squeeze you harder right there. Really hold onto you right there. Bruise you right there.

The second you let go of them, though, Joe’s hands lost their strength on you immediately because they wanted to roam. There was all this skin Joe got to look at, and his fingers itched to touch all over, but you were fast. Grabbed back onto his hands to place them back onto your hips.

Joe pushed an impatient puff of air from his lungs.

To silence him, you rolled your hips to get him extra deep before resorting to short little bounces.

It worked. Got guttural groans out of him instantly. You heard how Joe let his head fall back into his pillow.

God, men were so fucking easy, weren’t they?

But then Joe’s fingers, still held in place, started twisting to intertwine with yours, and he was being a little forceful about it. You really had to use strength to pull your hands away from him.

It granted another annoyed little sound from Joe, and before you knew it, there was a little shifting below you. You got pushed forward slightly as Joe sat up. Got his arms around your waist, pulled you close against his chest and started mouthing at your back which turned into kisses when you slowed down into a grind.

“Hey,” Joe whispered, chin hooking over the outer edge of your shoulder.

This motherfucker was trying for eye-contact.

In retaliation, you let your head slump the other way, exposing your neck for Joe to get his mouth onto. Distract him with the skin there. You knew Joe knew you fucking loved your neck being loved upon, and Joe was a man who liked to please.

But it didn’t work.

“Hey,” he repeated, still a soft whisper, and snuck an arm up to take hold of your chin so he could turn your head towards him.

You worked against him, fought his grip on your jaw and sped up your movements to increase the tempo of your bounces on Joe’s lap. Tried to make him feel good to distract from the connection he was trying to make.

But that’s not what Joe wanted.

It was good – don’t get him wrong. You made him sigh into your skin, press his forehead against your shoulder.

It was good.

Very good.

But Joe knew how to make it better, and if you just– if you just moved with him for a second, you’d see that he was right.

So Joe’s grip on your waist suddenly became a trap as he pulled you down and stilled you in his lap where he held you in place. He had his hand on your chin still, and tugged at it again. Joe said, “Hey,” once more, but this time in his speaking voice, all assertive and demanding.

When you finally gave in and turned your head to make eye-contact, you immediately wanted to go in for a kiss. Get your mouth on him with your eyes closed, but Joe moved his head back a little to avoid your attempt entirely which scared you a little. Made you instantly feel vulnerable.

Had you done something wrong?

Was Joe mad at you?

You saw two confused and... sort of worried eyes scan your face for a second, his brow slightly furrowed. You didn’t know exactly what Joe was searching for, but you knew he wasn’t going to find it.

“Joe, I–”

You didn’t know how to finish that sentence, and thank fuck you didn’t need to, because before you could, Joe leant in and kissed you. Wasn’t nice about it like you were used from him. Instead it was pushing, and vigorous, and only short.

The second you started kissing back, he broke away from you.

You didn’t understand what the fuck he was trying to do. He pulled back and looked at your mouth before he looked you in the eye, and then did the same thing again. Made you clash with him all fiery, his hand on your chin still, keeping you in place with a strong grip and, fuck off, this was the type of kissing that really got under your skin.

Joe knew how to kiss you.

Knew how you wanted it and then just handed it over without you having to ask for it.

The shorter rough clashes naturally turned into a longer kiss that felt like Joe was trying to eat you whole. He was devouring you with a sense of hunger you hadn’t ever felt from him before.

Was nice.

Real nice.

You kind of wanted to turn in his lap and just kiss for the rest of this exchange if you were being honest. But then Joe’s hand moved from your chin down to where he knew how to touch you to make you orgasm quickly and you had to break the kiss to gasp for air. To throw your head back. To loudly moan Joe’s name.

Joe took the opportunity to latch his mouth onto your neck, which only upped the volume of all your noises.

When Joe finally felt you sag your entire body against him, he knew he had you.

“There you go, that took a minute,”

He took over. Repositioned his legs, but kept you in his lap. Held your hips in place as he started thrusting up into you, setting his own pace and taking full control.

With your brain fogged-up, all attempts at trying to keep everything distant and void of emotion were out of the window.

Joe made you come on his lap, his hand working on pressure from the outside as the underside of his tip hit you just right on the inside.

You barely got a second to yourself, because as soon as Joe felt your twitching and squeezing slow down, his hands guided you off of him and turned you around to face him. Taking one look at you, the glassy eyes, the shiny skin, the kiss bitten lips– yea, he needed to be on top of you right that fucking second.

Joe expertly flipped you onto your back, rolled on top of you immediately and did what he loved doing most.

Forehead fucking.

You never really allowed it much, for obvious reasons, but Joe would kiss you and you’d forget about everything for a second.

Joe took his time, made sure you felt really good once more, decided he didn’t need to force eye-contact again, your foreheads connecting was enough, and let you gasp and moan for him with your eyes closed until he eventually filled up the condom with soft grunting pants.

Oh, fuck.

That was good.

Sort of, dared you even think it, the best you’d had in a little while.

But then Joe had to fucking ruin it by trying to cuddle up to you when he jumped back into bed after disposing of the condom in the bathroom bin.

You groaned a little and pushed an elbow into his side to stop him from snuggling up to you.

“No, come here,” Joe tried to pull you in with both hands, but you were already trying to sit up.

“Lay with me for just a second,”

You turned your head to look at him, sort of dazed, and it took you a little while to decide to not tell Joe you had an early morning the next day. You didn’t have an early morning the next day, and it wasn’t even late, but mostly, you didn’t want to lie to Joe.

So instead, you said nothing. Turned back and slowly got up and out of bed.

Joe sighed deeply and made his exhale as loud as he possibly could.

Annoyed, capital A.

“Don’t... don’t ruin it.” You requested, voice sort of small and tired.

“It’s not– this isn’t normal, I’m not apathetic.”

Getting up and out, you let your eyes scan the floor to find your underwear, your clothes, and you saw how getting dressed would lead you right back to Joe’s front door which was perfect. The excuse to leave was hidden in getting your clothes back on your body.

“I’ve got actual feelings. I’m a person.”

In the broad sense. Joe meant feelings in the broad sense. Not feelings for you. Obviously not.

“Mhmm,” your underwear was twisted in a weird way.

“I can’t only get to hold you close when you’re absolutely off your face,”

You paused, hunched over whilst stepping into your knickers, one leg in, one leg out still.

“You... you cuddled with me when I was practically unconscious?”

You made that sound like it was the most awful thing Joe could’ve ever done to you.

“Of course I did,” Joe huffed. “I got to spoon you for hours. Uninterrupted. T'was amazing.”

You narrowed your eyes at Joe and felt a lot of things. None of them positive. Joe scoffed a laugh at your facial expression and said, “You think you can come to my home, pass out in my bed without me laying with you a second?”

Joe minimized the time frame quickly; went from hours to a second in one sentence.

“I was drunk.”

“I didn’t touch you.” inappropriately, he meant.

“Yea, well...”

You weren’t going to say it, but you thought it.

I would’ve preferred that.

You didn’t say it.

Instead you let the silence that followed your loud well be whatever Joe thought it was and got back to getting dressed. Grabbed your jeans that were turned completely inside out.

“You like art?”

“I... what?”

“Art. Do you like art?”

You glanced at Joe who seemed a little non fussed, one arm slung behind his head as he relaxed in bed. All casual. Cool even, a little.

Art was a broad term, so sure. You liked art, and gave a small shrug as an answer.

“Come with me to this exhibition tomorrow, there’s this–”

“Joe... no. Please, don’t.”

Rejection. Joe didn’t hold back on showing what it did to him in his face. Just in your bra and jeans that you were doing up now, you sighed and let your shoulder slump.

“Why do you always want to hang out with me?”

“I... what?”

“I’m not a nice person. I’m mean to you.”

“You’re not mean to me, it’s...” Joe searched for the words. “It’s just banter, isn’t it?”

Sure, it was banter. But every single arrow was pointing towards Joe wanting more than what you had going together, and you were doing your very best to keep all of that at an arm’s length. You looked down Joe’s hallway and saw your top. Went to grab it, and heard Joe say, “I like you.”

When you took a step back to look at him like he’d just told a bad joke, Joe raised his eyebrows.

“What, is that such a surprise?”

Honestly, it kind of was. You wouldn't like you if you were him.

“I think...” you started, and thought for a second if you should continue with what you were going to say. You looked back down the hall, at the scattered clothes and the two bags of shopping at the end that illustrated perfectly how different from each other the two of you were.

“I think maybe you should have sex with someone else,”

“Wha–” Joe’s voice came out impossibly soft as he slowly sat up.

“Yea, no, two other people. It can’t just be me and one other girl. There’s got to be at least two others. And I can’t know them. Find– you’ve got to find two people, two people who I do not know and who do not know me that will sleep with you,”

“I don’t...” Joe moved his head to look at you from the side of his slightly narrowed eyes. “I don’t know if you’re being serious or not.”

“And then text me after. Text. Don’t call.”

“I’m going to go with not,”

“It’ll be good.” You pulled your top over your head. “It’ll be good for you.” And then realised that you’d picked up Joe’s white T-shirt instead of your own. You only noticed it once you’d pulled the hem down at the front, and you quickly checked the sleeves to know for sure this wasn’t your top. Your throat made an irritated little noise, shoulders dropping in annoyance and defeat before you were about to take it off again.

Joe stopped you.

“Wear it.”

“Where’s my–” you looked back into the hallway.

“It looks good on you. Wear the T-shirt.”

Joe challenged you and sounded a little stern as he did so. It made you freeze to look at him a second.

“Have sex with other people.” You challenged back.

Suddenly you were caught in a stand-off.

“Wear my T-shirt.” Joe spoke through clenched teeth and didn’t relax his shoulder until you slowly lowered the T-shirt back into place where you smoothed it out across your stomach.

“All right.”

A weird moment followed where you didn’t really know what to say. It passed, and you sort of snapped out of it with a sharp intake of air. Breathe, woman. Jesus.

Another glance around the room let you know that everything else that belonged to you was out in Joe’s hallway, so you turned on your heel and walked out. Made your way to find socks and shoes, your jacket, your phone, your white top, until you made it to Joe’s front door.

Picking up your plastic shopping bag full of food and stuffing your top into it, you heard footsteps behind you and saw Joe step into the doorway of his bedroom where he leant against the frame.

“I’m not joking.” you warned.

“Neither am I.” he didn't seem that affected.

In a small awkward moment of sincerity – you were in his T-shirt for fuck’s sake – you sighed, hand on Joe's door handle, ready to leave at any second.

“I hope that,” you started, then turned to look at him at the other end of the hallway. “I hope that if you meet someone who treats you like I do, that you choose to walk away.”

You didn’t wait to see Joe’s reaction, didn't wait to see the feelings in Joe’s eyes and opened the front door to quickly slip out.

If Joe wanted more, he kind of deserved more. You just weren’t the person made for more. Didn’t know how to do more. Weren’t good at feelings, so you made sure there never really were any.

Well then.

One little problem.

If there weren’t any feelings... why did they hurt?

---

The Taglisted

@a-time-for-wolvess, @adoreyouusugar, @alana4610, @ali-in-w0nderland, @alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @barfightzanddiscolightz, @bettyfrommars, @cancankiki, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @choke-me-eddie, @demonsanddemogorgons, @did-it-work, @dirtyeddietini, @dylanmunson, @eddie-joe-munson, @eddies-puppet, @electricmunson, @emma77645, @emmamooney, @everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @frogers, @frootvelvet, @ghost-proofbaby, @ghostinthebackofyourhead, @harringtonfan4, @haylaansmi, @jasminearondottir, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @kellyxo1, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @miserybeans, @nadixq, @ohmeg, @paola-carter, @pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @roosterisdaddy36, @sherrylyn628, @sidthedollface2, @thebellenouvelle, @thefemininemystiquee, @thewondernanazombie, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @yelyahcardella

taglist currently full, sorry

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #joe quinn x y/n #joseph quinn x y/n #rpf #18+#more than this

298 notes · View notes

lavendertales · 1 year

Note

Hii! So I'm here to make a request, you can totally ignore this if you don't like it, I just really like your writing and wanted to pass this idea to you ♡

It's a angsty with happy ending story, hope you like it ♡

So the idea is that Joel and reader (established relationship) are kinda new in Jackson, but Joel being Joel is not very used to being there yet, so he doesn't tell anybody that he is in a relationship with reader bc he is scared that they think he is weak or smth, and totally ignores her outside of their home, so reader obviously feels insecure, but our lovely Joel makes her feel better at the end of the day.

thank you, love!! hope you enjoy this❤️

new territory—Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: 1k

You went into this situation with Joel without having any sort of expectations. In an outbreak, there aren’t many expectations to be had. So you simply settled for the comfort of another human being.

It grew by accident, really; tentatively, till you were both overwhelmed by the need to be close to each other, and eventually, it became some sort of mutual understanding that Joel was your protector. And, whenever you could, you protected him, too.

By not breaking his already fragile heart.

You took care of each other and looked after each other, and some nights you sought solace in each other’s arms, your bodies tangled in a fit of ecstasy. Sometimes it was something primal, rough and fast, other times it was impossibly languid and caring.

Upon your arrival in Jackson, the little town Joel’s younger brother Tommy put together, things were the same between the two of you.

Until they weren’t.

The moment Joel stepped outside the door, you became a stranger. You were surprised by the shift in behavior, to say the least. Whenever you tried to approach the subject in private, Joel either shut down or distracted you. You began to think maybe it was all in your head, or perhaps a matter which had nothing to do with you.

But when you were at the bar one evening, grabbing a drink with Tommy and his wife, Maria, you became certain that Joel was purposefully being cold towards you. Barely any eye contact, no touch of any sort, laser-focused on whatever Maria was saying to the group.

Your heart sank in your chest. While there weren’t any definitions to be given to whatever resided between you and Joel, you still liked to think that there was mutual respect and care involved, certain feelings—although not voiced yet.

“I think I’ll call it a night,” you announced, standing up.

Joel’s eyes shot to you, surprised by your reaction.

“Are you sure?” Maria checked with you. “It’s still quite early.”

“I’m sure. I’m a bit exhausted. Thank you for the drinks. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya tomorrow,” Tommy wished you.

You didn’t glance at Joel; you just wanted to get home, curl under the blanket and stay there. How foolish of you… perhaps he meant more to you than you did to him. Perhaps this was all in your head indeed, and you assigned more meaning to the situation. And now you were rushing to get to the so-called home, the one you shared with Joel and Ellie. It seemed the suffering was never-ending.

You heard your name called out in the background, but you dismissed it. You felt your eyes stung with tears, and you only hoped no one would remark your distress. You were at least thankful no one could see or hear the way your heart ached, practically wept, at the realization that you had gotten too emotionally attached to Joel when all he did was simply find relief.

“Stop, please,” Joel called to you.

“I just wanna go home, Joel.”

“Let me explain.”

You stopped in the middle of the road, turning around slowly. Joel was almost out of breath, his face red and riddled with regret at the same time. Worst of all, it hurt him to see you this disappointed and angry.

“Explain what? Why you’re ashamed of me? Or ashamed of being seen with me?”

“I’m not ashamed of—“

“You won’t even look at me, you won’t touch me unless we’re locked inside the house. You can see why I might think you’re ashamed to be with me.”

“I am not ashamed to be with you.”

“Then what is it?! Because I’m sitting there, watching Tommy stare at Maria like she’s the only thing in the world for him and I just… it hurts, Joel. It hurts to know that I care more than you do.”

“I care about you. A lot.”

He was standing far too close to you, reaching for your hands to take in his as your vision gets blurrier due to the tears.

“I never asked you anything, I didn’t ask you or even expect you to feel anything for me, but I just wish this wasn’t all in vain or some cheap thrill.”

“Listen to me. I’m—I’m sorry if you felt like I could ever be ashamed of you, or us. I’m not. I just…”

He took a deep breath, contemplating, gathering his thoughts.

“I only acted that way because I felt uncomfortable with all the people starin’ at ‘Tommy’s big brother and his girl. I don’t like ‘em staring. I thought if I kept some distance, they wouldn’t annoy you with questions or stares or jokes.”

You frowned. “Why would they joke or have questions?”

“Tommy has a good reputation ‘round here. Me, on the other hand… I’m sort of the black sheep. People got a lot to say. I didn’t want you in the middle of it.”

You caressed his hands into yours, oddly touched by the confession.

“I don’t think you’re the black sheep,” you told him. “I think you’re a great man who’s been through hell and back.”

“I did horrible things. Things you don’t know about. Killed people.”

“We all did terrible things to survive.”

You were grazing his cheek with the palm of your hand, and were surprised to see Joel close his eyes at the touch, leaning into it.

“But caring for someone doesn’t make you weak, if that’s what you’re worried about. I thought you learned that lesson with Ellie.”

Joel gulped, nodding solemnly. You suppressed a fond chuckle.

“I really am sorry,” he muttered.

“Next time you just talk to me. You know I’m here for you if you let me.”

“I do, I know.”

Then your lips stretched into a smile. “So… I’m your girl?”

Joel shook his head nervously, a grin on his face.

“I could make it up to my girl if she’d let me,” he teased.

“I think she’d like that.”

#requests #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff

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tsukimefuku · 2 months

Text

The morning after is still last night

After last night, you and Higuruma share a brief pillow talk.

Tags: Jujutsu Kaisen, mentions of sex, Higuruma x f!reader, this is fluff.

WC: 800

This is part of my "Jujutsu Partners Canon Divergence AU", a sequence of short stories and random drabbles for a Nanami x f!reader x Higuruma fanfic I'll eventually write (eventually). This is the sequence to "The man who played with fire", link here. To see the ever-growing list of one-shots, please visit my masterlist :)

Disclaimer: they’re NOT written and posted in chronological order of events. To see where this story fits in the timeline, please check the masterlist mentioned above.

Higuruma was awakened by the faint stream of light that bled through the curtains and projected onto his face delicately. He was coming to his senses slowly, and realized he was still naked under the bedsheets. Looking by his side, he saw you laying down with your back facing him. He smiled discreetly, realizing you had spent the night — Higuruma was unsure if you’d do so, given you were prone to avoidance, overall.

Examining your back solely with his eyes, he noticed a prominent scar right in the middle, over your spine. It was oval-shaped, and it extended in a straight line to the right side of your back, stopping abruptly. It seemed to have been done by a blade of some sort. Before he realized, his fingers were caressing over it, pulling you gently awake.

“Hey,” you cooed, rolling on your side to face him, “good morning.”

“Good morning.” Higuruma answered, gazing at you before putting his hand over your cheek. “It seems you slept here.”

You smiled at him, putting your hand over his. “I didn’t feel like going back home in the middle of the night.” You also wanted to spend some more time with Higuruma, but spared that detail. You were starting to feel somewhat guilty, like you had used him the night prior. No need to dig this deeper, you thought.

“I’m glad you stayed. I wish I had something to offer for breakfast, but I’m not the great domestic type of person. There isn’t anything in my fridge other than yesterday’s beer.” He answered, blatantly not embarrassed at all.

You chuckled lightly. “There might be an old lemon half. You never know, Higuruma.”

His expression became slightly saddened. “I know the sun is already out, but last night isn’t over until we’re out of bed.”

You dragged your body towards his, stopping a few inches apart, and looked him in the eyes. His gaze was lovely, and you were both nearly whispering, as if to keep the fragile little bubble of this moment intact. “Okay, Hiromi.”

Higuruma instantly smiled, and closed the gap between the two of you, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “That’s more like it.”

You put your thumb on his chin and guided his face to look at you, sighing deeply. “I can’t stay. And I don’t think we should do this again.” You felt like you’d be only using him, even if you had a thing for Higuruma. You just failed to realize just how deep that “thing” was becoming.

He sighed back, because he realized you were doing that again. Fleeing to avoid touching on sensitive subjects. “I know you can’t stay, but I’d like to discuss that second part before you left.”

“What do you want to discuss?”

“I want to know why we shouldn’t have sex again.” He was a pretty straightforward and honest kind of guy, even if it meant saying the uncomfortable unsaid most of the time.

“Well, I feel like I’d be using you for self satisfaction, and I think you’re a friend I wouldn’t want to drive away by treating you like man candy.” You replied, earnestly.

“Then don’t.” He answered. “Treat me like man candy, I mean. Except if I ask for it.”

You chuckled and covered your face at his antics. “Hiromi, oh my God.”

“I mean it! We’re adults, and the lifespan of a jujutsu sorcerer isn’t that long from what I could tell, anyway. It doesn’t mean this will taint our friendship, as you pointed out, and we can always talk about it if things get strange in a bad way.” He negotiated with you. This was so much different from being lectured that you couldn’t help but feel glad to be sharing this moment with Higuruma.

You stayed quiet, studying his features as he awaited for a response, and your gaze wound up resting on his lips for a while, something he noticed. He approached you carefully, brushing his lips to yours, and it instantly made your heart race. You could hear each pump in the back of your ears, as you pressed your lips against his quickly, pulling apart before you both could get entangled together again for round two, after you explicitly told him you shouldn’t.

“Can I think about it?” You asked.

“Of course. But please, do think about it, and don’t just take time to stall on an answer.” Higuruma replied, ash colored eyes piercing through you.

“Oh, stalling to not give you an answer about something uncomfortable or compromising? That definitely doesn’t sound like me.” You answered, mockingly. You were aware of your intimacy issues.

He smiled and pressed his forehead against yours. “ I’m a lawyer, I’m quite familiar with buying time to avoid consequences.”

“Consequences, huh?” You asked, rolling to the opposite side of the bed. “Come on, Hiromi. Time to start the day.”

Defeated, he rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling, as your feet touched the cold morning floor.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #higuruma hiromi #hiromi x reader #higuruma angst #higuruma x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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athanza · 11 days

Text

Starlett - Part 2

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some Cooper dad fluff because why not ♡

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse and (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 3 | Final part

2296

The harsh sun was setting now which meant he needed to find somewhere to settle in for the night. The rickety second floor of one of these buildings would be the best option so he'd have a good vantage point if something were to happen.

As he searched for the right building he began to hear muffled screaming coming from further in the crumbled town. At first, he couldn't give a rat's ass, but he needed to know if it was a big enough threat for him to keep moving.

It didn't take long for gunshots to begin ringing out through the ruins, but they were only from 3 separate guns...then 2...then 1.

As he reached the area where the shots were coming from, the sounds of a pissed off Yao Guai became apparent, and there was one singular person left to fight it off but she looked like she was badly injured.

"You son of a bitch!!" She yelled when her gun jammed and the wounded beast readied itself for another charge.

As it lunged at her one more time a shotgun shell slammed into the side of it's head and it went down, a pink mist left in the air for a moment as the rest of it's brains splattered to the ground.

The woman turned to where the shot came from to see Cooper walking casually towards her, unable to see his face very well in the dark. She pointed her now un-jammed rifle at him just in case.

"Those things'll kill ya." He quipped.

"Yeah, no shit." She replied, wincing at the pain from a gash on her side.

He cocked his head a little. Her voice sounded familiar.

"Why don't you put down that gun so I can cut myself some bear hide and be on my way?"

She scoffed. "So you can shoot me in the face and steal all my shit? No thanks cowboy."

That was it, the confirmation he didn't think he'd get.

"Irene?" He said.

The woman paused briefly, then aimed her gun properly. "How do you know my name?"

He stepped a little closer so that the light from the lantern on the ground could illuminate his face.

It took her a moment but she recognised his eyes and immediately lowered her weapon.

"Cooper?"

2077

A scream woke Cooper up in the middle of the night and he instinctively got up and ran to his daughter's room.

"Daddy!" Janey cried when she saw him.

He came over and hugged her tightly. "Hey, hey, it's ok, it was just a dream, you're ok."

She cried into him for a moment before spluttering "Why don't you and mommy love each other anymore?"

That caught him off guard. He had no idea what to say and it hurt so much hearing her say that.

"It's not that we don't love each other honey, it's just..." He tried desperately to search for the right words. "Well...your mom and I just disagree on somethin' really important and we tried to figure it out but it was too hard."

"What did you disagree on?"

"Well...that's grown up stuff baby girl."

She sulked quietly, putting her head back on his chest.

"We still love you very very much, that hasn't changed at all."

"Is it my fault?" She asked and his heart broke.

"No baby girl, no, not at all. None of this is your fault."

"I know I haven't been doing my homework, and I don't always feed Roosevelt when I'm told and-"

He cut her off, kneeling beside the bed so he could look her in the eyes. "Janey," he held her hands. "None of this is your fault. Your mother and I loved you since the day we found out we were gonna have you. And when you were born, we looked at you and we just cried and cried.

I have never been prouder or happier than I was in that moment. And you know what? That hasn't changed a bit, not even a little."

Janey smiled, her face still wet with leftover tears.

"Really?" She sniffed.

"Yes." Cooper chuckled, scooping her up and hugging her again and she giggled. "Now, how about a hot chocolate, with double marshmallows?"

She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

She hugged him as he carried her downstairs. "I love you daddy." She said.

His chest burst with warmth and happiness and he smiled. "I love you too sweetheart."

The next morning, Janey was watching cartoons on the TV while eating her breakfast and Cooper sipped greatfully at his cup of hot coffee, having not gotten much sleep.

He smiled as he heard his daughter giggle at the TV, her mouth full of cereal, and sat down at the dining table with his newspaper.

But just as he sat down the loud ringing from the telephone rang out through the kitchen and he sighed heavily.

"I'll get it!" Janey yelled and ran over, hoping it was her mother. Her face dropped when it wasn't her mother's voice she heard on the other end of the line. "Yeah he's here, I'll put him on."

Cooper looked up at her tone and she held the receiver out to him. "It's for you dad."

He walked over and took it, kissing her on the head before she went back to her cartoons.

"Hello?" He said.

"Mr. Howard, it's Irene. I'm sorry to call you at home but I need your help."

Her voice told him it was serious. "What's wrong?"

"You were right. About Frank. I know we barely know each other but I need somewhere to stay for the night before I go to my mother's up in Sacramento. Lee...Lee doesn't know."

"I uh..."

"...no, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you." She said.

"No, no, it's ok. I'll make up the guest room for you."

He could hear a faint sigh of relief in her answer. "Thank you, so much, I owe you one."

He gave her his address and they hung up.

"Who was that dad?" Asked Janey.

"A friend from work. She needs a place to stay tonight so she's gonna stay in the guest bedroom. You'd like her."

She kind of shrugged in an uninterested way and took another bite of her cereal, her attention back on the TV.

He hoped no one sees Irene at his house, that's the last thing he needs in the papers, especially now.

Part 1 | Part 3

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imtrashraccoon · 2 months

Note

Ooh could you perhaps write something for cross? Like an X reader? I haven't seen many of those- like- at all, and it's incredibly sad because the boy deserves love :c

Feel free to ignore this if you don't wanna do it <3

I'm so sorry for the wait, Anon! I didn't realize it had been almost a month since I received this! In my defense it took me like two weeks to figure out what I wanted to write in the first place. I hope this doesn't disappoint because it's way longer than I intended it to be...

A Gentle Soldier

Cross!Sans x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 4,875

You were simple person, just doing what you could to get by in the world. It wasn't an easy or comfortable life but you made the best of it.

After your father passed away, you were left with the cabin he'd built that had been your childhood home. It was a small one room building with a loft for sleeping and a fireplace set into one wall, which was especially nice in the Winter when the stone bricks it was built from radiated the heat throughout the entire cabin.

You kept a small vegetable and herb garden out back and regularly hunted or trapped animals for meat year round. You also preserved anything extra for the cold months when you might not be able to leave the cabin during bad storms for several days. Other than the occasional trip into the nearby village for rifle ammo and a few other things that you couldn't make yourself, you were self sufficient and almost never interacted with anyone.

Maybe one day you'd meet someone and start a family, but they'd have to be adaptable because you weren't about to just abandon the life you'd worked so hard to build for yourself. You liked to think that you were a reasonable sort but there were some things that you wouldn't compromise on. Moving back into the village was one of them, so unless you had no other options, you were going to hang on dearly to your little piece of paradise.

Today was a bit of a gloomy one, but despite the heavy rainfall the previous night, many dark clouds still remained overhead. There was a cool breeze as well, but you figured the inclement weather would hold off for a few hours at least, which was enough time to check your traps.

After putting on a thick coat for warmth and in case you were wrong about the rain, you shouldered a rucksack which held extra traps and some small tools. You also slung your father's hunting rifle over your shoulder, which while you didn't think you'd need it, there was always the possibility of running into a hungry bear or wolf this time of year. You were a decent shot, but hopefully if you did end up missing, the loud noise would be enough to scare them away.

While checking each of your traps, you thought it was strange how quiet the forest seemed today. Not even the occasional birdsong interrupted the silence and none of the traps had even been touched. That was disappointing, but you still had some meat you'd smoked previously and you had enough flour to make some bread so you wouldn't go hungry tonight at least.

You were on your way home again when you heard a loud noise.

It was like several trees had been knocked over or like a landslide had been triggered.

That wasn't something an animal could do.

You checked that your rifle was loaded but kept the safety on for now as you carefully made your way towards the strange noise. You only wanted to take a peek, just in case someone had gotten hurt. Although, it soon became apparent that whatever or whomever had caused the disturbance was still in the area and, as you drew closer, you began to hear people shouting as if they were in the middle of a fight.

You stopped at the crest of a hill and peered down into the little valley below.

There were at least four monsters below you, three of which were seemingly working together to attack the fourth. They all looked like skeleton monsters, however there were some anatomical differences between them and human skeletons. They were dressed completely different from both each other and from any monsters you'd ever seen before too.

The first was a skeleton whose outfit was rather intricate but it was also completely black and white. It was hard to describe with all the layers of clothing, but the basics of his outfit seemed to be a white parka with a fluffy hood, a narrow white cape with black edges, and a pair of black shorts with white stripes that were shaped like an X. He had twin bone daggers with hollow blades and even from here you could tell that he was quite experienced with them.

The second skeleton was wearing a metal chestplate, a light blue bandana tied around his neck with matching gloves and boots, and sturdy looking jeans. He kind of looked like a warrior from an RPG to you and the large maul he was wielding only solidified that thought in your mind.

The third skeleton was a bit shorter than the others and he seemingly flitted about like a leprechaun with what looked like a giant paintbrush. His outfit was mostly brown but some of the straps holding it together were bright yellow and green. He also had on a pair of fingerless gloves and sported a very long brown scarf that somehow didn't impede his movements at all.

Their outfit choices seemed to be representative of their personalities since you couldn't think of any other reason for the variety on display. The first struck you as the strong and silent type, with the second seeming like he was dependable, and the third looked almost carefree and yet also rather bubbly at the same time.

Their opponent though, just looking at him seemed to fill you with dread, and while you had limited experience with people, even you knew he was bad news.

He was several inches taller than the three, not counting the numerous black tentacles protruding from his back. His bones and clothing also seemed to be completely black, in such a way that gave him the appearance of having been dipped in ink, except it didn't seem to leave a mess everywhere. Speaking of clothing, while it was hard to differentiate where his bones ended and clothes began, his outfit looked like it consisted of a fancy overcoat and you could see that he was wearing a gold circlet and several rings on his phalanges. He seemed to only have one working eye socket, which had a piercing cyan eyelight, if the way he kept guarding his right side was any indication, but other than the uncountable number of tentacles, he didn't appear to have any weapons of his own, not that it seemed to be a problem for him.

You knew in your heart that you shouldn't be sticking around and risk being caught in the crossfire, but at the same time, you couldn't help but want to continue watching. It was almost mesmerizing with how fluid their movements were and even though each had their own techniques, they all seemed to work flawlessly together. Their opponent seemed frustrated in comparison and yet he was managing to hold his own against all three at once. You didn't know what the stakes were or how the fight had even started, but you couldn't help but silently cheer for the three skeletons to win.

The monochromatic skeleton was suddenly grabbed by a tendril and sent flying until he collided with a nearby tree. You watched in horror as his body slumped to the ground and when he didn't move for several long seconds, you felt the sickly feeling of dread beginning to pool in your stomach.

The other two skeletons were too busy to check on their compatriot and you could tell the nightmarish looking one would send each of them flying as well if they lost focus for even a second.

You had to see if he was hurt and how badly.

Not caring if you were seen anymore, you scrambled down the steep incline, scattering loose stones and dirt under your boots in a mini landslide as you did so. Somehow you didn't lose your footing but it certainly did slow you down.

Although, before you could reach the fallen skeleton, there was a flash of bright light and another one appeared by his side.

This skeleton was a bit taller than the others, but still shorter than the scary one, and you almost had to squint to even look at him. His presence almost seemed to warm up the immediate area and, rather confusingly, just seeing him made you feel calm and like you should be happy. Considering the situation, it also felt unnerving but you couldn't place exactly why that was.

Somehow, he was dressed even more fanciful than any of the others. Over a form fitting black body suit, he had a loose white outfit that kind of resembled a tunic with bright yellow accents. The best way to describe it was like he'd stepped out of an ancient Egyptian mural, only he was somehow more beautiful.

This new skeleton knelt down by the first and placed his gloved hands on his still crumpled form. A soft yellow glow flickered from between his fingers before the monochromatic skeleton's body jolted awake. The bright one then stood up and said something you didn't quite hear, which the other nodded in response to.

He summoned a gorgeous longbow with a string made of glowing blue energy. Then, he appeared to notch a similarly glowing arrow and turned as if to join the fight, before his gaze locked with your own.

You were completely awestruck and for a moment you found yourself lost in his golden eyelights. You felt like you should be overjoyed that he'd noticed you but the disinterested look on his skull quickly quelled those thoughts. He looked like he was about to say something to you, when a shout from the nightmarish skeleton interrupted him.

"Dream! So you've resorted to collecting pawns now?!" his voice thundered across the little valley.

The bright skeleton, whose name was apparently Dream, let out a tired sigh and turned to face the antagonizing one. "I'm tired of fighting, brother. So I'm here to finish this once and for all," he responded in a tone that, while much calmer, still held a certain level of venom and he'd notably ignored the accusations.

The two brothers practically leaped at each other and their resounding blows echoed throughout the surrounding area. Dream was far more agile than you'd expected and his arrows seemed to burst like a firecracker as they found their mark. His brother seemed to transform into a form that struck so much more fear into you than his first had, so much so that you couldn't bear to watch them any further.

"hey, are you alright?"

You startled and glanced to your left to find the monochromatic skeleton had hauled himself to his feet and apparently had also noticed you.

He looked rather banged up but fortunately didn't seem to have any broken bones or other obvious injuries. Although, there were several tears in his jacket, which you could now see was actually short sleeved and that he was wearing a long sleeved shirt underneath. The ends of his cape were also frayed but you could tell they were already like that before he'd been whipped into a tree.

However, the most striking details about him were his white eyelights, that almost seemed to have a soft purple glow at the center, and an old jagged red scar under his right eye socket. He seemed genuinely concerned about you too, which was a little odd since you were the one who'd originally been concerned about him.

"Yeah, I'm okay, I think..." you managed to respond.

His bonebrows knit together in a way that seemed to suggest that he didn't fully believe you. He didn't choose to press you further though and instead retrieved his daggers from the ground where he'd dropped them earlier.

"okay then, but you should probably try to get as far away from here as you can. as you can see, things get messy fast when these two meet."

"You don't need to tell me twice."

With one last glance to make sure you really were okay, he charged back into the fray again, leaving you to figure out how you were going to get back up the hill. The rain had left the already steep slope much softer than usual and even if you crawled up on your hands and knees, there was no way you'd make it without sliding back down.

Which meant you'd have to find another way.

While you were trying not to focus on the terrifying fight going on, you couldn't ignore it completely. Still, you did your best to make as little noise as possible and hoped that they were all too occupied to notice you.

Just as you'd found a place with decent looking handholds to haul yourself up, you heard someone shout a warning from behind you.

As you turned to see what was going on, your vision was engulfed in a bright blue light.

You heard something impact the rocks behind you.

Then you heard a crumbling sound and felt some small stones hit your head.

[...]

When you came to, you were lying on your back staring up at the grey sky. You could still hear fighting so you must've only been out for a few minutes. You started to sit up but a firm hand on your shoulder kept you from doing so.

"easy there." The monochromatic skeleton was leaning over you now and he still looked rather concerned. His pale eyelights flitted over your face looking for injuries before focusing on a spot just above your right temple.

Your head was throbbing in such a way that you knew you'd get a headache later and when you gingerly ran your fingers over your scalp, you discovered that you were bleeding. Whatever had knocked you out had apparently been sharp enough to give you what seemed to be a nasty cut.

As soon as you'd registered this, the skeleton quickly tore off a section from his cape and wrapped it around your head to serve as a makeshift bandage. He also applied a firm but gentle pressure in an attempt to stem the bleeding. You couldn't help but admire how calm he was as anyone else would probably be a little panicked in this situation. It was almost like he had done this many times before.

"What happened?" you finally asked.

His cool demeanor faltered for a moment to be replaced with a tight frown. "you were spotted by nightmare and he tried to grab you, but dream stopped him..."

You noticed his phalanges twitch as if he wanted to clench his fists before stopping himself and continuing to try to patch you up. Sensing that there was something else that he wasn't saying out loud, you tried to press him further.

"I'm grateful of course, but what's bothering you about it?"

"he was careless and if his aim had been off just a bit more, he could've actually hit you," he grumbled under his breath.

He closed his eyes and took a long-suffering breath. When he seemed to have calmed down some, he made eye contact with you again.

"are you alright otherwise? does anything else hurt?" he asked.

You took a second to flex each of your limbs, but other than a few aches that would probably just become bruises, you didn't seem to have any other injuries.

"No, I think I'm fine. A bit shaken up but that's pretty normal in these situations, right?"

He raised a bonebrow and was about to respond when a sound that sounded like a mix between a harsh hiss and a deep growl interrupted him. He whirled in the direction it had come from, simultaneously drawing his daggers that he must've sheathed earlier when he had stopped to help you.

Two shadows wielding battleaxes had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and they started advancing on the two of you. With the black armour they were wearing and the way they easily dwarfed everyone else on the battlefield, you knew these guys were bad news. Other than the glow of their cyan eyelights, they were entirely black and while it was hard to tell, save for their sharp teeth and claws, they also appeared to be skeletons.

Your rescuer didn't hesitate for a second before basically launching himself at them. When they responded to his assault by swinging their heavy weapons, you half expected him to get knocked back, but he ducked under one and sidestepped the other.

He moved so quickly that you could barely keep track of him with your eyes but it seemed that he was using his smaller stature to his advantage. He wasn't wearing heavy armour either which meant he could dodge pretty much every blow with relatively little effort.

In the blink of an eye, he sliced clean through one's torso and simultaneously beheaded the other.

The bodies of the shadowy skeletons seemed to flicker before dissolving into thin air.

He'd won!

"Wow..." you gasped. "I could tell you were good but I didn't know you were that good..."

He nodded and took a cursory glance around the area before letting himself relax again. He was breathing quite heavily after all that, but there was a small glimmer of relief in his pale eyelights when he looked back at you.

"thanks." He seemed to study you for a moment before approaching and holding out his hand. "do you think you can walk?"

"Yeah..." As he helped you to your feet, you felt your cheeks grow slightly warm and you were certain that you were blushing.

What was this day? You'd never seen any skeleton monsters before now and when one of them had showed this much concern for your well-being, you were reduced to nothing but a flustered mess, as if you were a grade schooler with a crush all of the sudden.

He held onto your hand for a few seconds longer than he probably should've but when he realized, he quickly dropped it like he'd been burned. Even though he looked away immediately afterwards, you thought you saw a soft purple glow flicker across his cheekbones.

In that moment, you were struck with the realization that he looked kinda cute. Unfortunately, he seemed a bit unsure of himself all of the sudden, despite how confident he'd been fighting moments prior. It was...rather endearing actually.

"Hey, um, thanks for stopping to help and...for just saving my life too."

He smiled and, while it was a small one, you could almost feel how genuinely glad he was. He let out a soft chuckle and fiddled with the wrapped handle of one of his daggers as that same purple glow coloured his zygomatic arch again.

"yeah...of course. i couldn't just ignore you, especially when you had no part in this," he muttered.

You introduced yourself before asking the one question that had been on your mind from the moment you had first seen him. "What's your name?"

He opened his mouth to answer when a bright light from the still ongoing battle grabbed your attention.

While his clothes had been slightly torn and dirtied, Dream stood tall with his bow drawn, ready to fire the notched golden arrow at his brother. He'd only been using blue energy arrows before, but this one seemed much more powerful, if the magic that was pouring from it like a hungry flame was any indication.

In contrast, Nightmare was in a combat ready position with his tentacles poised to strike. His clothing seemed relatively untouched, but the inky substance covering him had either served to protect him or at the very least hide any damage he'd incurred.

While both skeletons were breathing heavily, Nightmare definitely seemed like he was much more worn out than his brother. Which was probably why Dream had brought the others along in the first place now that you thought about it.

Time seemed to stand still as the golden skeleton let the arrow fly.

The world was instantly bathed in an explosion of light.

The nightmarish one let out an anguished scream and clutched his chest as he fell to his knees.

The edges of his form seemed to blur together and for a moment you wondered if he would disappear like the dark skeletons had earlier.

Then the ground suddenly erupted around the golden skeleton.

He was abruptly run through with several black tentacles.

Your hands flew to your mouth in shock as he collapsed as well.

The monochromatic skeleton next to you seemed frozen in shock but in the few seconds that he hesitated, the other two reached Dream first. They seem to briefly examine him before the one in blue gingerly picked up the injured skeleton.

The skeleton in brown swung his large paintbrush which summoned a swirling golden vortex in mid air.

"Cross! We have to go now!" the blue skeleton shouted.

That seemed to spur the skeleton by your side into action and he started to hurry towards them, but stopped himself and glanced back at you. He had a conflicted expression on his skull, as if he knew that he should go with his colleagues but he also looked like he didn't want to leave just yet.

"Cross? Is that your name?" you asked.

He nodded firmly, "yeah..."

"You should probably go with them. I'll be fine, okay?"

He hesitated for a moment longer before his skull took on a determined expression. "stay safe then," he said before sprinting across the valley to the others.

They disappeared into the portal and silence blanketed the forest once more and for the second time today, you shouldered your bag and rifle, neither of which seemed to have been damaged from the debris that had hit you.

Just before you climbed back up the hill, you glanced around the little valley. While a couple of trees had been knocked over, no lasting damage seemed to have been caused by the conflict. There wasn't even any bodies that you'd have to think about burying.

[...]

Time passed as it always did. Summer came and went without anything else out of the ordinary happening and you began preparing for Winter.

You couldn't stop thinking about the kind skeleton that had saved your life. His skills were impressive and you'd never met anyone who actually knew how to fight like he did since it really wasn't necessary nowadays. Oddly enough though, you began to realize that you also found him...handsome.

You'd never heard or met any other skeletons before him and you certainly hadn't since. Maybe they were very rare or maybe there just weren't any living in the area. Either way, it was probably because you'd never found actual skeletons scary. You never would've imagined actually being attracted to one though, monster or not.

You wished you could see him again.

But you didn't know where he was from or really anything else about him besides his name.

So you tried to it put out of your mind and focus on stockpiling food and fuel for Winter.

Today you were chopping up some firewood. You'd been doing a little at a time over the past few weeks so as to not overwork yourself and by now you'd managed to stockpile just about two month's worth. You estimated that you were probably almost halfway done but you wanted to be sure you had enough just in case.

Just as you cleaved yet another log in half, you heard someone approaching from the forest. With your trusty axe still in hand, you turned to see who or what was intruding on your little piece of rustic paradise.

To your shock, Cross was standing only a few paces away from you. He looked much the same as he did before, although his uniform had since been mended.

"uh, hey again," he said in a quiet tone of voice.

For a moment, you were tongue-tied but quickly tried to recover. "H-hey! Um, what...brings you out here in the middle of nowhere?"

A purple glow flickered across his cheekbones and he rubbed the back of his cerebral vertebrae. "i wanted...to come check on you..." he muttered. "i hope this doesn't sound weird, but i just had to see you again..."

You leaned your axe against the chopping block so as to not risk dropping it on your toes. Running a hand over your face, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.

"No, it's not weird. I was actually hoping we'd see each other again."

His eye sockets widened in surprise and his pale eyelights quickly scanned your face as if he didn't believe what he'd heard. After a few moments, he grinned, although his cheekbones were still flushed that beautiful purple which you thought was adorable.

"really? you don't mind that i just showed up? i mean, i would've called first but..." He glanced away from you as he trailed off.

"Well, I don't exactly get cell service out here so you couldn't have anyways," you responded with a chuckle.

Cross chuckled as well as he moved closer to you. "on another note, did you need any help here?" he asked as he motioned to the pile of wood.

"I think I'm done for now but if you don't mind, you could help me carry all this back to the cabin," you suggested and began to scoop up an armful.

He nodded and started to pick up what was left of the pile. You walked around to the front door and propped it open to make it easier to bring the firewood inside. By the time you'd unloaded your armful in the large stack you had been steadily building, Cross appeared in the doorway with a much larger armful of wood. He didn't seem to be struggling with the weight but he also didn't have a free hand to unload.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him and wondered how he'd even managed to pick up such a large amount in the first place. Still, you took pity on him and started taking off a couple of the pieces from the top of his armful.

"You didn't just bring all of the firewood in at once, did you?" you teased.

He smirked but shrugged his shoulders as his hands were still occupied. "well, it wouldn't make sense to go back and forth if we didn't have to, right?"

You shook your head and just continued helping him. He was right in a way. If he hadn't offered to help, you would've had to make probably a dozen trips, which would have been pretty tiring.

Your fingers brushed against his hand by accident and you quickly pulled back. Although, Cross didn't seem to notice your embarrassment and he finished stacking the remaining pieces of wood he had been holding.

Clearing your throat, you tried to distract yourself from what had just happened. "So, how are you doing?"

"i'm doing alright, i suppose," he hummed. "what about you? did your injuries heal properly?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I don't even think it left a scar but if it did, my hair covers everything anyways."

His expression turned into one of relief. "that's good, i'm really sorry that i had to leave abruptly like that."

"No, I completely understand!" You hesitated for a second before asking, "Was...Dream okay...?"

His eye sockets narrowed and he seemed to grow more serious for a moment. "yeah, he's fine."

"Oh, that's great to hear."

A bit of an awkward silence settled between both of you. Since he seemed like he wasn't going to expound on what had happened further, you decided to try to lighten the mood and motioned for him to sit down on the couch by the fireplace. He sat down gratefully but his posture seemed a bit stiff.

"Can I tell you something?"

He tilted his skull and gave you a curious look. "what's up?"

Rather than answer immediately, you reached over and placed your hand on his. He briefly glanced down but when he didn't pull away, you took that as a signal that he was okay with the contact for the time being.

"This sounds weird, but I haven't been able to get you out of my head for months."

One of his bonebrows twitched but his expression otherwise remained neutral.

You took a deep breath and continued. "Cross... I really like you."

He placed his other hand on top of yours and smiled. "well, that does sound weird...but i really like you too." His cheekbones flushed with purple as he spoke but he didn't look away from you this time.

You couldn't help but laugh. This conversation felt like it'd come straight from a fairytale and yet it was real. Your heart swelled with joy and while you were certain your cheeks had turned bright red, you couldn't care less right now.

Cross chuckled softly and, to your surprise, he reached over to wrap an arm around your shoulders. This brought you closer together but not uncomfortably so. Even like this, it seemed he was still being considerate of your feelings.

"does this mean i can come over again to see you?" he asked in a quiet voice.

You nodded vigorously, "For sure!"

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dazaiandhislovelybandages · 6 months

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No Commitments {Kishibe}

A/n: okay so... can someone tell me why I see Kishibe as something more than just someone who is there to fuck you? Am I sick? Depraved? I am not going to say anything else. Just enjoy this

Pairings: Kishibe x f!eader

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her very early 20s and Kishibe is in his 50s), mentions of death, implied sexual activities, mentions of drinking, mentions of virginity loss

Work was tough. You both knew it. Being a devil hunter was not easy.

You had no idea how the two of you had ended up working together especially since you had joined the organisation just two months ago. But you were good and you had ended up climbing the ranks, quickly gaining respect from your coworkers.

Meeting Kishibe had felt like meeting a legend. Everyone talked about him as if he was some sort of god and you understood why as soon as you saw him in the battlefield.

The very same night the squad that had been sent to that mission went out for drinks to celebrate the fact that no one died. Everyone ended up going in seperate ways but aparently you and Kishibe lived towards the same direction.

Long story short the two of you ended up making out. The excuse was simple: both of you drunk too much. But it was a lie. You had had only three shots of sake and Kishibe had only downed two glasses of whiskey.

The sexual tension became stronger as time passed by and soon enough you ended up in his bed.

But you had had an agreement with him that day: it's not a relationship, it's not exclusive and it was simply because you were too bored to find someone else, both of you. It wasn't even friends with benefits.

"We'll get caught." You breathed out, your back pushed against the wall of one of the very few secluded spots in the work building. Kishibe's mouth left your neck in a matter of seconds as the two of you heard footsteps.

Ten minutes later you had to leave for a mission in which he wasn't included.

Of course the mission went well, thankfully there were no casualties amongst the demon hunters and you returned to your apartment after completing the necessary paperwork, having received the weekend off.

The rest of the day passed with you sitting at the balcony of your apartment, a bottle of wine placed on the table. Old school rock could be heard from inside your apartment, coming from the long forgotten laptop on the couch.

You just sat there, enjoying the view of the setting sun, occasionally taking a sip from your glass of wine. It was really a scene out of a book on second guess, your feet on the chair across from the one you were sitting on, your head thrown back enjoying those sad love songs from your playlist.

It was peaceful. Like life should be but the world was too fucked up.

It was really peaceful.

Until there was banging on your door. At first it had been the doorbell but you hadn't even heard it with all the music. So when the banging intensified, you quickly stood up, heading back inside and answering the door.

"You have a phone for a reason." Kishibe entered your apartment with an angry expression on his face. It wasn't like him to show emotion.

"It was a tough day." You mumble and sit down on the couch.

"The fuck I care. Three teams were sent on missions today and two of them didn't make it." It was weird. Having him scolding you for something you didn't even know yet had certainly not been on your bucket list. Even the way he was standing, looking down at you, a cigarette between his pointer and middle fingers, was odd and so unlike him.

"I am sorry?" You really were. Hearing that some of your coworkers would never return home crushed your heart everytime but you had slowly and cruely gotten used to it.

"Listen, kid, I have been a devil hunter for god only knows how many years and not once have I ran to look at the diceased list like I did today."

Your lips parted slightly at the sound of that. "Are you drunk?" You couldn't help but ask. Kishibe never acted like that. He had never been worried for you all this time you two knew each other. Or at least that was what he showed you. There was always this bored expression on his face, a pained one as well, with the wrinkles near his expressionless black eyes and the scar across his cheek showing exactly what he had been through and why he didn't even care anymore.

"Wish I was." The tone of his voice was harsh and that was why your words shouldn't have had that teasing tone.

"Why? Were you worried?"

Next thing you knew you were naked in your bed. You had to give it to him though. For a man his age, he had an excellent stamina.

"You should find someone better." He exhaled the smoke, turning his head slightly so you wouldn't have to smell it, the window of your room, open.

"There's better?" You mumbled, completely fucked out and still in a slight bliss.

Kishibe chuckled, putting out his cigarette in the tray on your nightstand and for the first time since the two of you had started having sex, he caressed your hair. It felt as if he was pressing your head further against his scarred chest.

"Someone who isn't an old pervert."

"Why do you care old man?" You lifted your head slightly to look at him. "It's not like we are together. We're just fucking."

You didn't want to say those words. Maybe because sex with Kishibe never felt like 'just fucking'. Or maybe you had been delusional and crazy to think that there could be even the slightest sign of emotion in his actions. He was a sick old pervert after all.

Had you been this naive? You had given your virginity to this man.

But then again... you were simply repeating what he would always say to you.

"You're right kid." He mumbled, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He had caught his breath quicker than you which was impressive on its own. "I don't even know why I am here."

"It's just fucking." You hadn't meant to say it out loud but those words just kept repeating in your head. You were trying to convince yourself that you didn't have feelings for this man.

"Is it?"

"You said you didn't like commitments."

"I don't."

"But?"

"There's no but." Maybe not looking at each other was for the best. "Shame on you, kid. Shame on you for thinking that an old pervert like me could keep our agreement after giving me even the slightest sign that you care if I am dead or not."

"I never said I care." It really was a shame. It was a shame because you thought he would have never seen past the cold and snobbish act you put on when around him. As if Kishibe was blind.

"Stop lying to yourself."

A long pause followed. You didn't know what to say. You knew that one of you could die in the very next mission so what would be the point of getting in a relationship just to lose one another someday?

"I don't like labels." Kishibe finally said, reaching out his hand to grab the lighter from the nightstand to light the cigarette between his lips. That was when you decided it was time one of you actually initiated eye contact. "So let's just say that I want to be the only one who gets to see you like this."

#kishibe x reader #kishibe csm #kishibe csm x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #csm #csm x reader #writing #manga #anime and manga #anime #kishibe chainsaw man #kishibe chainsaw man x reader #kishibe fluff

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neopuppy · 4 months

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I want to start writing and posting my very hush hush🤫 battle of the bands AU without anyone bothering me about updates. im not asking for a lot in actuality BUT……the way people act on here…

if I do this it would be a series. I think I will split up how each part gets posted too……since two groups are involved.

but also if it’s a waste of my time….I’ll just move along and keep rolling out one shots instead.

THIS WILL BE A CROSSOVER AU: nct dream/enhypen🤨

the premise: two childhood best friends(Heeseung/Jeno) fight over a girl in middle school and end up going to different high schools/both have little garage bands that play local shows but both gain notoriety in their districts, enough that a lot of people vote for them to make it to the top 5 for Battles of the Bands in their county

here’s where you come in- you are friends with the ‘00 liners and often help them sling demos/sell merch bc they let you go to all their shows for free, and offer to pay for stuff etc. throughout high school you always had the same boyfriend whose a year older than you and right before you’re ready to graduate you find out he’s been cheating on you in college. broken hearted and full of despair, your buddy Jeno’s like ‘hey if we win this battle of the bands thing we get a spot on Warped tour, you should come, it runs through summer. once in a lifetime opportunity.’

ur like nahhhh, but you go to the battle of the bands and meet their rival group(enha hyung line) for the first time and the singers REALLY into you, which leads to a run-in between him and *gasp* his ex-childhood bestie Jeno, they start talking shit to each other and you’re like😅😅😅??? ‘Why are you yelling at my potential rebound’ to which Jeno shouts ‘ABSOLUTELY NOT!!! HIM(yes.. its heeseung) NEVER!!!!’

yaddayaddya blah blah……you end up going on the tour, both bands come in as the top 2 finalists, and it ends up being the most chaotic memorable summer of your life……tons of drama, LOTS of guys, a lot of hooking up, some feelings, some confessions, jealousy, first times, etc etc. very coming of age with y/n running train on the whole squad as usual. I want to also really focus on each character and sort of how they all ended up in their bands/became friends, very ‘my teenage angst has a body count’-esque. each character has a song attached to them that delves more into their personal story/persona, etc……it wouldn’t be a super long AU, but maybe.

these updates would be SLOW, not weekly!!!! and tbfh if you even ask me once🤏 abt updates I may block you. Boom was like the last series I rly consecutively updated and it STRESSED me out/ruined how fun it was to write toward the end bc of the constant nagging for updates. its actually so much more annoying to read that message more than anything…maybe..

I want to write this bc, I love both groups and I think this type of story is something *I* personally could make something really fun out of, but yeah, like I’ve explained… the ‘when are you posting again/when will you update’ etc or snarky ass ‘FINALLY YOU UPDATED’ etc…..don’t do that!!!

with that being said..…I dare to ask the audience…

#🚶🏻‍♀️#not tagging bc whatever if u see it then ur opinion was meant to be used lol

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dracoandthehounds · 3 months

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White Noise - One-Shot

5.1k | Drarry | AU | M | also available on AO3

Draco had nightmares.

It was something Harry had noticed immediately upon his arrival to their safe house. Even though they’d managed a whole room to spare for Draco and all the space they thought he must have wanted, Harry was still woken in the night by the sound of bleary shouting, and gasps, and, once or twice, broken sobs. It went on like that for the first month, with a sort of quiet agreement that fell into place at once that nobody would speak of the nightly ordeal Draco suffered with. Afterall, they all had nightmares, with all the horrible things they’d seen, all the horrible things they’d done. So it was definitely nothing to be embarrassed about.

But Harry learned that with Draco it was different. Because Draco had them every single night.

And Harry became sort of obsessed with fixing it.

Hermione said that Harry was just getting stir-crazy, having to wait for word from the Order about their next mission, and that was why Harry had become so determined to find a way to fix Draco’s sleep, despite the fact that Draco told them all that there was no point, and he’d been having them for years, now. And maybe it was boredom, exhaustion borne from having to pace the old decrepit house in the middle of some forest in Ireland, the exact location known only to Remus Lupin, their secret-keeper. Maybe Harry had gotten tired of watching Hermione pour over books that he knew she’d already read, or of playing chess with Ron, who always, always won, no matter how hard Harry tried, no matter what clever move Harry pulled. Whatever it was, Harry didn’t really care. Because all he saw was a problem that demanded a solution.

His first tactic was simple. After dinner, and just before they all ticked off to bed, Harry brought Draco a mug of warm chamomile tea with a dash of milk to encourage deeper sleep. Draco stared at the mug for several moments, as though waiting for it to explain Harry’s behaviour, before he looked up, eyebrow raised, at Harry, himself.

“To, erm…” Harry stuttered, “help you sleep.”

“Right,” Draco said, looking back down. The muted candlelight caught against the scar that now stretched, jagged and forked, across Draco’s cheekbone. A weird part of Harry couldn’t help but think about all the times Draco had given him shit over the years about his own scar.

And now they matched.

Harry shook the thought from his head.

“Cheers, Potter,” Draco said, sipped the tea, then split off toward his bedroom.

Harry awoke, just a little past two in the morning, to the sound of a strangled gasp coming from the wall that separated their two rooms. And he couldn’t fall back asleep with the sounds of Draco’s panic so close, echoing in the still of the night.

The next morning, after he’d heard Draco leave his room and go turn on the shower in the loo, Harry snuck into Draco’s bedroom. In short order he found the mug from the night prior, and found, to his delight, that the mug had been drained. It gave Harry two answers.

The first was that the tea hadn’t worked to quell Draco’s nightmares, since, obviously Draco had still had them, despite having clearly drank the tea.

And the second was that Draco was willing to accept Harry’s help.

The next thing Harry tried was his muggle wireless. He showed it to Draco the following night.

“And I think we should try two different things with it,” Harry explained. “First, some muggle music, and if that doesn’t work, we can try turning it to a static station— for white noise, alright?”

“White noise?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Harry explained. “It’s like a steady noise that you can tune out, and then you won’t be bothered by, like, random sounds. Muggles use it all the time, I think. I read this article in a muggle magazine about it, once. When I couldn’t sleep, summer after fourth year.”

Draco stared at him, then held out a hand. Harry gave him the wireless.

“Are you going to show me how it works, or am I meant to just jab at it until something happens?” Draco asked, eyebrow raised.

Harry huffed out a laugh, then stood up, so he could sit beside Draco. He spent the next twenty minutes explaining the different knobs, and cycling through the different radio stations, until Draco got the hang of it. And he tried to ignore the warm press of Draco’s leg beside his, or the gentle smell of spearmint and lavender that seemed to come from Draco’s white-blond hair. From this close, Harry could see a few small freckles along the back of Draco’s neck that he’d never noticed before. This new knowledge felt like gold.

That night, Harry could hear the gentle sounds of classical music, a bit fuzzy from how far off they were from civilization, as it filtered through the wall separating them. There was something peaceful about the muffled sound. It gave Harry a strange feeling of a far off peace. The lie that maybe, somewhere, things were working out okay.

But, again, it didn’t work. Harry woke to Draco screaming, some choked and pleading cry. He was begging that his mother be spared.

Harry’s heart felt heavy and broken all throughout the next day. Draco’s skin, which had always been pale, did little to hide the growing dark shadows underneath his eyes, as each restless night stacked against each other. It made Harry feel as though he were losing some sort of battle, right at his homefront.

“So, the white noise tonight?” Harry asked Draco over lunch, right after Hermione had shown them the results of her past week of research, some new theories as to why Voldemort hadn’t died after Sirius had hit him with the killing curse last year, during their battle in Diagon Alley.

“Alright,” Draco said, a quick nod. “White noise tonight.”

That night, after dinner, Draco had turned to the three of them, and asked the question they knew was inevitable. “Dumbledore really didn’t tell you? Before he died?”

Hermione sighed, her face falling.

“No,” Harry said. “We think… we think he meant to—”

“We’re not even sure if he knew, Harry,” Ron said, sighing.

Harry shook his head. “I know he was onto something, alright? He’d written me, remember? The night before. That he had an idea how Voldemort came back after that night in Godric’s Hollow.”

“You’re not convinced?” Draco asked Ron.

Ron sighed. “I was, for a while. But… to leave us so in the dark… I don’t know anymore.”

Hermione sighed. “He was caught by surprise. We all were. He didn’t have time to explain.”

“And that’s even if his theory was right,” Ron argued.

Harry rubbed his forehead. They’d had this conversation plenty. He wasn’t sure if it was doing them any good.

But Draco was the one to break it. Draco coughed, mouth tight, then spoke. “I didn’t even know, you know,” he said. “About Barty Crouch Jr.— I had no idea he was still alive.”

Ron looked back up, and Harry could see his strategizing mind running behind his brown eyes. It was like the few times he’d seen Dudley at the computer, and the way the machine would cycle through its programming, its lights beeping as it thought. Harry could sense the same sort of hidden calculations now running behind the neutral expression of Ron’s face.

Right before they’d rescued Draco, the three of them had agreed to not immediately pester him for information, no matter how vital they knew it was. They’d all agreed that giving him the space to answer and to settle was what mattered most, and that if they tried too hard too soon, then the only thing they’d ensure was Draco clamming up, surely assuming that they’d only saved him for information. If they acted like all that mattered was Draco’s insight into Voldemort’s inner circle, then Draco would never trust them enough to realise that they’d saved him for a far simpler reason: that he deserved to be saved.

The inside knowledge was just a bonus.

“We thought,” Ron said, each word slow, “that you-know-who found a way to restore Crouch’s soul. Either that or Crouch never received the kiss in the first place. But, well, if that’s the case… then that would mean that Fudge had been compromised, too.”

“Which, of course, we can’t know either,” Hermione said quickly. “With Fudge dying so shortly after.”

Harry nodded along, but kept his mouth shut. He was no good at this sort of thing. Gentle interrogation, basically, if he were being honest. And they really were lucky that Ron could manage it, as Hermione didn’t have the patience for it, either. She didn’t know how to change tactics in real time, to adapt to constantly changing information. Like a game of chess. What Ron excelled in.

Draco frowned. “I don’t know, either. I only found out that Crouch was still alive after Dumbledore died. I tried to ask my mother, but, well…” he trailed off.

Ron’s eyes flashed quick to Harry and Hermione. A sign, Harry could read, to not say anything more. This was all they’d be getting for the night. It wasn’t much, but anything helped, Harry thought.

At the very least, it seemed to mean that Draco was finally beginning to trust them. Maybe.

Through their shared wall, Harry listened to Draco fiddle with the wireless that night. It clicked past station after station, until Draco seemed to find one that was static enough to his liking. Harry heard a small thump, Draco putting it down, he assumed, then listened as Draco settled into bed.

Another failure.

Harry awoke just past midnight, and the sounds he heard had him choked up before he was even fully conscious.

This time, Draco was crying. He was saying, through tear-choked sobs, that he didn’t know where Potter was, he didn’t know who was in the Order, and he didn’t know how many times he had to tell them the same thing, over and over. He begged and begged until Harry couldn’t stand it, and shoved a pillow over his own head, desperate to stop the pain building in his chest from the misery in Draco’s voice.

After half an hour of this, Harry couldn’t stand it anymore. He stood up, took a deep breath, then tip-toed to Draco’s bedroom.

When he creaked open the door, Draco didn’t wake. In the muted moonlight streaming in through the boarded up window, Harry could see streaks of tears down Draco’s pale face, shimmering like dew on grass. Harry sighed, then walked over to Draco’s bed. He sat, as quietly as he could manage, as Draco continued to thrash, mumbled and unintelligible pleads spilling from his mouth like broken prayers.

And with all the gentle measure he could manage, he reached up and put his palm against the side of Draco’s face, hoping to gently wake him from his nightmare.

Draco didn’t wake.

But he did calm.

Harry watched, in frozen shock, as Draco turned his head toward Harry’s palm. At once, his face softened, as he pressed harder against it, breathing in Harry’s skin like it had been the answer all along. Harry stared, not daring to move, as Draco continued to sleep soundly for the next ten minutes. He didn’t stir, or thrash, or mumble. He only slept. His face was still and content.

When Harry’s arm went numb, and he couldn’t justify staying any longer, he removed his arm as gently as possible, stood up, then walked as quietly as he could back to his room. And from what Harry could tell, Draco slept through the rest of the night in complete silence.

When Harry saw Draco the next morning, his face heated immediately, as though something far more scandalous had happened between them in that shadowy room.

“How’d you sleep?” Harry choked out.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “Differently,” he said after a moment. “I think… I think I still had nightmares, but maybe not as many…” He looked up. “I suppose the muggles might be on to something with that ‘white sound’ of theirs.”

“White noise,” Harry corrected automatically.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He walked off, and Harry considered telling him about what might have actually helped. But he didn’t know how to say it. Didn’t know if he could stand the look on Draco’s face as he did.

Around midday, it began to rain. It started as a dull drizzle, but really began to pick up around dinner, with thunder and lightning to boot.

“Rain is also a sort of white noise,” Harry explained as he picked his way through the bland vegetables that Ron had cooked. They’d run out of spices months ago, and were meant to get a package from Katie Bell a few weeks ago, but it never showed up. Harry was trying very hard not to think too much about what that meant. It could only be bad, afterall.

“Should I not use the wireless, then?” Draco asked.

Harry shrugged. “Might be worth testing the rain instead. Maybe it will work better, I dunno,” he said, looking away, so he could hide in the truth he wasn’t admitting.

“Alright,” Draco said. “Whatever you think is best.”

Harry laughed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s your experiment, isn’t it? Don’t want to mess with the results.”

“Spoken like a true scientist,” Harry said, smiling.

“That’s a muggle thing, isn’t it?” Draco asked. “I think Blaise once… he explained.”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

Draco watched, as though expecting him to continue.

“Er— Another time, maybe. It’s complicated,” Harry said, shrugging. Afterall, he still hadn’t found a good way to manage his rudimentary knowledge of science against the existence of magic. He definitely didn’t have enough that he felt confident to explain it to Draco. All of that sounded like something he ought to leave up to those Ministry researchers in the Department of Mysteries.

If there were any of them left, that is.

Harry heard Draco open his window that night. The wireless was off, just as Draco said it would be, and with the sound of rain falling outside of his own window, Harry felt himself pulled to sleep even quicker than usual.

He woke to the sound of Draco yelling. For a moment, Harry’s heart thudded, as Draco sounded more lucid than usual, but only a moment later, Harry realised it was only another nightmare. They weren’t under a real attack. At least, for now.

And like a true scientist, Harry felt he had to test this new theory of his.

He walked, as quietly as he could manage again, to Draco’s room. With a gentle touch, he opened the door, and Draco’s shouts got louder as he moved in, and the space between them cleared of walls, and doors.

And then, a sudden clap of thunder, and a flash of lightning that was far too close, and Draco was shooting up, shouting, eyes wide-open and wild.

“Potter?!” he demanded to the open air, hand over his chest. “What on— what on earth…”

“Sorry!” Harry said, gasping, staring. “You were… you were having another nightmare, I’m sorry, and last night, damnit, I’m sorry—”

Draco’s breaths finally settled, as he continued to stare bewildered at Harry. “What?” he asked again, shaking his head, eyes darting around the room, as though looking for more assailants hidden in the corners.

Well, Harry figured. The ruse was up. He began to explain.

“Last night, you were having a nightmare, so I came in, and I tried to wake you up, but, I dunno, when I touched you… you actually slept soundly, for once, and I wanted… I wanted to see if it worked again… I dunno, I’m sorry,” Harry admitted, his cheeks heating hot and strong. He felt embarrassed, and horrible, and very, very stupid.

Draco only stared at him, mouth still parted.

“Right, well, sorry, again. Goodnight,” Harry said, turning on his heel and walking toward the door.

“Wait.”

Harry’s heart thudded. He turned around to Draco staring at him.

“What?” Harry asked.

“If that… if that worked,” Draco said, speaking softly and slowly, “we should test it, again, shouldn’t we?”

“Are… are you sure?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, though he still looked scared, as though waiting for the trick surely just around the corner. And Harry could only stare at him, struck into a bit of awe, as Draco, in small little movements, edged to one side of his narrow bed.

He was making room for Harry.

Saying nothing, too afraid to ruin this momentary miracle, Harry walked forward, then climbed into bed beside Draco. And, still staring at him, Harry lied down, laying his head on Draco’s other pillow, as Draco mirrored him, staring right back. All movements that might, in any other scenario, be simple and common, but, in this exact scenario, couldn’t be more improbable. Couldn’t be more miraculous.

“Where, er—” Draco asked, his voice hoarse, likely from the yelling, “did you… where—”

“Here,” Harry answered, bringing his hand up as slowly as he could manage, trying his best not to startle Draco. He laid it against Draco’s cheek, the exact way he had the night before. Draco’s cheek felt just as soft to the touch.

And at his touch, Draco’s eyes widened, then flicked to Harry’s hand, where it cradled his cheek. And then they shot back to Harry, who could really see how grey they were in this close proximity. They were the same shade as the stone walls of Hogwarts, or maybe they were more like the gentle grey clouds that covered the English sky in the winter. They seemed to have that same sort of diffused glow, as though sunlight lingered behind them.

And Harry could smell the spearmint again.

“I don’t think I can fall asleep like this,” Draco said after a moment, the corner of his mouth creaking up into a smile.

“Oh!” Harry said, a small breath. “Right, of course,” he said, pulling his hand away.

“Maybe, um,” Draco said, before pausing.

And Harry watched as Draco turned over, facing away. For a moment, Harry was confused, until he felt Draco’s hand, his sharp narrow fingers, grab his own.

So they could pull Harry’s arm up and over, so that it would wrap around Draco’s waist.

Even with the thunder and rain outside, there was no way that Draco couldn’t hear the sound of Harry’s heart, as it hammered in his chest.

“This alright?” Draco asked. “I think this might be the only way we can fall asleep, if you’re supposed to be touching me, and all.”

Harry coughed, his mind like fuzz. “Yeah… this, er— it works.”

“Alright,” Draco said. “Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” Harry said, wondering if maybe all of this was a dream. A really, really good dream.

And Draco was mad if he thought Harry could fall asleep like this.

But Harry didn’t exactly mind. He was more absorbed with marvelling over how different Draco was now, how easy and pliant he had become. Harry couldn’t imagine the Draco of his younger years ever entertaining this sort of thing from Harry. Ever agreeing to sleep in the same bed with him, with Harry’s arm laying curled around his waist. Ever trusting Harry to only want what’s good for him.

But, Harry supposed, war tends to do that. Change people. Soften their edges. Or harden them, sometimes. Harry was glad that it hadn’t broken Draco. From the stories they’d heard, the visions Harry had seen, through Voldemort’s eyes, of what had been done to Draco, that too was a miracle, all of its own. A miracle that Draco was still alive, beneath Harry’s arm. That that good heart of his, that he’d spent so long pretending didn’t exist, still beat inside of him.

Beneath Harry’s arm, Draco’s breaths seemed to deepen.

Harry realised that the tosser had actually fallen asleep. He huffed out a silent laugh, then closed his eyes and tried to sleep himself. And despite how impossible of an idea it was, to think he could relax with Draco only a few inches from him, with the warmth of Draco’s waist, pressed tight against Harry’s arm, the gentle rumble of Draco’s magic, teeming beneath his skin… There was also the sound of rain, a constant patter against the forest around them, and the smell of ozone and wet dirt that blew in with every breeze, and all of it together began to culminate into Harry actually succumbing to the sweet quiet of sleep.

Harry awoke to the stream of sunlight, and something tickling his nose.

He wrenched his eyes open, and in the blurry haze without his glasses, realised something very quickly.

During the night, Harry had somehow managed to shift even closer to Draco. So close, in fact, that Draco was now pressed entirely against him, still breathing slowly, still asleep. But his back was tight to Harry’s chest, and their legs were tangled up together beneath the sheets, and he could feel Draco’s arse, pressed right up against him, and—

Immediately, Harry’s heart set to hammering again, at the feeling of Draco’s warmth, now basically surrounding him.

And Harry, unable to help himself, could only pull Draco even closer, dipping his own head forward, and pressing his face against the back of Draco’s neck.

Harry fell back asleep, surrounded by the smell of lavender.

When Harry woke up the second time, he was alone. Ignoring the weird thud in his heart at that realisation, Harry got up, and trudged back to his room to get dressed.

He nearly walked straight into Hermione on the way.

She stared at him, her mouth opening and shutting, as though cycling through a hundred different things to say.

“Were… were you in Malfoy’s room?” she asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“Er— yeah,” Harry said, scratching at his head, feeling his cheeks redden. He looked everywhere but Hermione’s eyes. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do that.

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Okay.”

In surprise, Harry met her eyes.

She smiled.

And that was all they said of it.

Harry eventually found Draco, crouching in their back garden and surveying over their collection of recently sprouted herbs.

“Hi—”

“The basil doesn’t need to be in this prime of a location,” Draco said, at once.

“Oh.”

“In fact, you could probably swap it with the rosemary— they usually like a bit more sun than I think the one you’ve got here is getting,” he continued. “Rosemary is Mediterranean, so that means they like pretty much all the sun they can get, but basil is tropical, so all that sun it’s currently getting might be drying it out, I think. At least, from what I remember.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “You can, er— take it over, if you’d like. I’m sure Hermione would like the reprieve.”

“Okay,” Draco said, standing back up. “I’ll talk to her.”

Harry watched as he walked stiffly past him, and, as though on instinct, couldn’t help but shoot his hand out, to grab at Draco’s thin wrist.

Draco startled, before staring back down again at Harry with those big grey eyes that Harry was getting to know so well.

“How did you sleep?” Harry asked.

Draco scanned over Harry’s face before responding. “Better.”

“Good,” Harry said, nodding. He released Draco’s wrist.

And Draco took a step inside, and Harry wasn’t sure what any of it meant, but then, just before he’d walked away entirely, Draco turned back around.

“Again, tonight?” he asked, over his shoulder, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “We ought to be thorough. For the experiment, I mean.”

And, miraculously, Draco laughed.

That night, Harry spent a good twenty minutes sitting on his bed. It was one thing to sneak into Draco’s bedroom in the middle of the night, heralded in by a nightmare, but it was another thing entirely to go off to bed with him. Like they were… like they were something else.

But ever the brave Gryffindor, Harry managed.

He crossed down the hallway, wondered briefly if Hermione ever did this with Ron, before he knocked on Draco’s door, just twice.

“Come in,” Draco said.

So Harry did.

The only light came from a flickering oil lamp on the rusted metal bedside table next to Draco’s side of the bed.

Draco’s side, Harry repeated in his head, accompanied by a weird, almost painful, thud of his heart.

Draco was holding a book between his slender fingers.

“What’re you reading?” Harry asked, as he forced himself to continue forward, climbing into bed with Draco like any part of this was normal. Like it was routine.

“A muggle book,” Draco answered. “The Great Gatsby. I found it in the cellar.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “How is it?”

“A bit sad.”

“Oh.”

Draco sighed, stuffed the ripped bit of paper he must have been using as a bookmark back inside the book, then placed the book on the bedside table. Immediately after, he blew out the lamp, sending them into a sudden darkness.

Harry lied back down, but couldn’t bring himself to pull Draco back into the position they were in last night. It was too much, he felt. He’d need Draco to do it, or else he’d never allow himself something so unbelievable.

“Potter,” Draco said, still sitting up, and not looking at him.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows. “Yeah?”

“Is this… is this part of your whole… saving-people-thing?” Draco asked.

“What?” Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“I heard Granger call it that, back in sixth year, after you told Pansy that you’d find a way so she wouldn’t have to go back home for Christmas… you know, after you heard about her family, and how terrified—”

“No,” Harry said, interrupting him. “I, er— I know what you’re referring to, I mean.”

“So?” Draco asked again, still not looking at him. “Is it?”

Harry paused, bit at his lip. How was he supposed to tell Draco that no, it wasn’t? It was something far, far more than that. Something that Harry might not have had the words for yet. Something that Harry wanted all to himself.

“No,” Harry finally said, after a moment.

Draco didn’t respond, continuing to stare forward.

So Harry reached his hand out, graced his fingertips along the cotton back of the t-shirt that Draco was wearing to sleep. Draco once wore silk pyjamas to bed, Harry knew, but he didn’t have them anymore. He didn’t have anything of his own, really, since he had no idea he was to be rescued, and therefore no clue to pack any sort of bag on that night that Harry and Ron had broken into Malfoy Manor like thieves, coming for his rescue.

Instead, Draco wore a combination of Harry’s and Ron’s clothing, along with some other bits and pieces they’d managed to collect in the long time they’d spent on the run. A flannel shirt Oliver Wood had forgotten to pack when he’d left, after only the one night with them. A thick heavy sweater that Lavender Brown gave to Hermione after Hermione had mentioned to her how cold the nights were getting, back in November.

A wool beanie that now had one or two holes, but that Harry still treasured deeply, because it had come from Colin Creevy, on the last time Harry had seen him before he’d been murdered in cold blood by Alecto Carrow.

Harry thought Draco might have shivered at his touch, as his fingers trailed along the ridges of Draco’s spine. Draco turned around, and Harry could only just make out his eyes in the heavy dark of the room. In the momentary silence, Harry could hear that the rain had started up again, just barely.

“Then what is this?” Draco asked.

Harry sat up fully. He placed his hand back against Draco’s cheek, and felt the warmth of his skin beneath his palm. For a moment, Draco looked at peace.

“It’s me being selfish,” Harry said, then leaned forward and kissed him.

He felt Draco gasp beneath him, and waited, unmoving, so he could allow Draco the space to choose for himself what he wanted next.

And Harry really did feel selfish, as he sat there, in the middle of all that tragedy and war, because, in that moment, he’d never felt so lucky. No, all he could feel was unbridled, selfish relief, as he felt Draco kiss him back.

Draco’s lips pressed firm against Harry’s, and Harry’s hands fell to Draco’s waist, where he pulled him in tighter, finally succumbing to something he’d always wanted and never thought he’d have, never thought he’d be lucky enough to find.

It felt like everything Harry had always dreamed it might, yet somehow more, somehow brighter, and stronger. As Draco’s lips slid against his, and as his tongue glided out, soft against Harry’s lip, Harry wasn’t even sure if he was still breathing. If he still needed to, at all.

Draco pushed him by the shoulders, until they were lying down, Draco half draped across Harry’s chest as he continued to kiss him, demanding, yet soft, almost like those fights they used to fall into like clockwork, but with the need, raw and scorching, that underscored all of them.

Harry doesn’t know how long they laid there, kissing, praying into each other’s bodies like they might never see the sun again. He felt as though they’d slipped into some pocket of time, far away from the world surrounding them. Because it no longer felt like war.

At some point, they fell asleep, Harry’s arms around Draco, holding him, enveloping him, like the promise Harry wanted to make him, that he’d never let Draco suffer again, the way Harry knew he had. It was an impossible promise, Harry knew that. But he wanted to make it all the same. He wanted to make it to Draco every night. He wanted to find a way to hold this fragile incredible thing safe in the palm of his hand.

He knew it was impossible. He knew everything around them was as temporary as the frost that lingered in the trees during the dark morning hours, before the sun rose to melt it all. Harry knew that, at any moment, he could die, he could be captured, he could finally meet the death he was famous for evading. He knew they were all living on borrowed time.

But in that moment, with Draco’s lips on his, and the feeling of Draco’s heart beating against Harry’s chest, Harry felt, for the first time in quite a while, the bright flicker of hope.

And that night, Draco didn’t have a single nightmare at all.

#harry potter #drarry #draco malfoy #harry x draco #fanfic #one shot #drarry fanfic #snippet

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triscribeaucollection · 10 days

Text

Hole in the Wall, Part 1

Lyle never needed to wonder ‘how did it come to this’. He could point back to the exact date and time of day, when the door of his small bar swung open, and all conversation between the handful of patrons died a sudden death.

Kid Flash, either bold as brass or too dumb to notice, walked right inside with his bright yellow costume and little red boots. To make matters worse, he dragged along a second, even smaller kid - though at least the boy with a cape seemed to have the good sense to look rightly alarmed. Most of the guys inside wore regular clothes, but off in one corner, Heatwave and Mirror Master were decked out in full gear, weapons obvious on the table between them, both men just as obviously staring at the two pipsqueaks with baffled suspicion.

Didn’t matter to the Kid, though. He came straight up to the bar’s counter dragging his buddy, and put on exactly the sort of great big grin Lyle’s nieces used when they were trying real hard to politely ask if they could break a rule. “Hi! Can we use your phone real quick?”

Lyle blinked. So did half his patrons. “...the phone.”

“Mmhm!” Kid Flash nodded towards the old landline Lyle kept up on the wall. “Our comms kinda got fried and Flash isn’t around, so-”

“KF,” his little friend hissed, casting a quick glance at the nearest guys, who made no effort to disguise how they were glaring right back.

“What? Dude, it’s fine-”

Getting over his shock, Lyle thumped a hand down onto the bar to draw their attention. “Phone’s only for paying customers.” Saying that, he cast a glare of his own around the room, saw how it immediately made most of the patrons ease back down.

Kid Flash winced, turning an apologetic expression on his friend. The smaller boy sighed and grumbled something under his breath, but nonetheless pulled a crisp twenty dollar bill from one of his belt’s little pouches. “Do you have any soda?”

Lyle grabbed them a couple of root beers.

“Thanks. Keep the change.”

And with that, the boys became patrons themselves, and thankfully everybody else inside the bar understood Lyle’s biggest, firmest, ‘broken under no circumstances’ rule: no picking fights with other customers. Now, if someone came in to cause a scene, they either ignored Lyle or he flat refused to serve them, which lit the green light for the rest of the room to ‘escort’ the troublemaker to the door. But once money and drinks changed hands, that was that, everybody enjoyed their beverages in peace Or Else.

In the back corner, Mirror Master and Heatwave scooted their weaponry out of sight, but otherwise went back to sipping and swapping complaints like nothing happened. And slowly, the rest of the bar followed suit.

Kid Flash chugged down his root beer in five seconds flat, before letting out a belch that wasn’t half bad for a middle schooler. “Okay! Can I please use the phone now?”

Lyle tipped one shoulder up in a shrug. He stayed put as the Kid came around the far end of the counter, one eye on the smaller boy still fiddling with his own bottle. “Don’t have bars like this where you’re from, huh?”

“Oh, sure. But I’d get shot full of holes in ten seconds if I tried walking into one,” boy replied flatly. “Or grabbed and tossed into a box until Batman showed up.”

That gave Lyle pause. “You’re the Bat’s kid?”

The child who couldn’t have been more than ten, maybe twelve years old at a stretch, lifted one hand to wiggle his fingers in a wave. “Yep. Robin, nice to meet you.”

What the actual hell.

Following that new train of thought got derailed, though, as Kid Flash’s phone call went through. “Hey, it’s me! Look, I know you guys thought me and D- uh, Robin- were just gonna go do some normal stuff, but we kinda interrupted a bank robbery-” Ah, that was the job Miggen was talking about the day before, “-and we’re fine! But there might have been an EMP emitter around that went off, and our comms kinda aren’t working, and since I can’t carry Rob back and he doesn’t want us to just take a bus in our costumes-”

By this point Robin had dropped his head onto the counter, both hands still gripping his bottle of root beer. Age him up a bit and swap the drink for a beer, Lyle thought he’d fit right in with the usual I’m surrounded by idiots patrons who came in to groan about friends and co-workers at the end of a long week.

“-no, we left the backpack with our regular clothes on the other side of the bridge,” Kid Flash went on. “Well, yeah, I could, but- look, Rob is from Gotham, if I left him alone for ten minutes there’s no telling what would be on fire when I came back.”

“Hey!”

Lyle almost snickered at the insulted expression on Robin’s face when he picked his head back up. A couple of other patrons also listening in did snicker, which just made the boy’s expression twist up even further.

“...where are we? Uh. So- do you, uh, remember that place Flash mentioned? The hole in the wall bar all the Rogues like to hang out at...?” Kid Flash abruptly pulled the phone away from his ear, wincing, and even from three steps away Lyle could hear a very loud voice on the other end.

“You are so dead,” Robin remarked.

“Shut up,” the Kid hissed back, before returning to his call. “I know, I know, but Rob bought us root beers and customers aren’t allowed to fight so it’s fine, we just- oh no. No, wait, you don’t need to-!” Lyle raised an eyebrow at the boy’s sudden panic. And understood it perfectly a moment later, when Kid Flash slumped in place and said in a very small voice, “Uh, hi Mom.”

Several more patrons in the bar snickered, or choked on their drinks, or otherwise looked like Christmas just came early. Robin’s head dropped back down onto the countertop.

“No. Yeah. Yes- I know that, but- yes, ma’am.” From what little of it Lyle could see, the Kid’s face appeared to be turning an even brighter shade of red than the color of his boots. “But I did do my homework!”

In the corner, Heatwave let out a startled bark of laughter, and Mirror Master went ahead and turned in his seat in order to watch the scene with a wide grin.

“That’s not due until next week!” Kid Flash continued to protest. “And it was on my desk, how did- you didn’t need to do that, I would have brought dishes down tonight!” The next pause dragged on, until the boy abruptly burst out, “Three WEEKS?!”

“I should’ve gone to bother Speedy instead,” Robin mumbled into the counter.

---

When I need a break from Inflicting Awful Things on my favorite boys in other fan fic stories, I of course turn around to instead Inflict Awful Things, Humor and Embarrassment Edition xD

#dc #young justice #wally west #dick grayson #central city rogues #fan fiction #pre-canon #I'm enjoying being mean to Wally today #/evil cackle #Nothing worse for a 13yo superhero #than talking to your mom on the phone #in a room full of guys you're supposed to regularly fight

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kitseddie · 8 months

Text

This Must Be The Place

Chapter 1: This Must Be The Place

Part 2

(Eddie Munson x GN!Reader)

Summary: You and Eddie were childhood best friends, you were both broken when you moved away in the last year of middle school. But now you're back and you want to reconnect, you will always be friends but this time something feels different...

WC: 2.4k+

Warnings: none!

A/N: I posted this on ao3 but I’m not sure how many people use that to read fics (I only ever use tumblr) so if this does okay I might start posting more (:

It was a casual Wednesday and Robin, Steve and Eddie were manning the family video store for the afternoon. As much as he despised the uniform, he needed the cash. The pill pushing business only gets you so far.

Robin leant against the desk, her head resting against her arms as her ears buzzed with white noise from the dreaded silence. She wallowed whilst Steve priced in the back and Eddie took an overly long smoke break. It was pushing 4 o’clock and there wasn’t a single customer in sight. Robin began to feel herself drift off when she was rudely awoken by a loud chime. A customer. Finally.

Immediately she lifted her head and wiped down her dusty uniform before turning her eyes to look back at the customer, her draw dropped as she took in your appearance in one glance. Bright and beautiful, giving her the warmest smile she’d ever seen. Reality soon hit her when your voice snapped her out of her daze.

“Hey sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you or anything. I’m just new in town and sort of…taking myself on a tour of Hawkins”. You admitted shyly as Robin just nodded and Steve started wandering out the back.

“Hey, Rob have you seen-“. She shoved him back through the door, smiling back as she gestured one second to you. Steve became agitated and confused, scowling at his friend.

“No nope, how am I supposed to have my shot with any of the people in this godforsaken town, if the king of Hawkins is constantly rearing his giant head and stealing them away with as little as a ‘hey, Steve Harrington’?”. She mocked his voice and did little gestures as he rolled his eyes and chuckled at her.

“You’re being ridiculous. And what is Munson not a threat to you?”. Her eyes widened as she almost forgot about her metalhead coworker taking his smoke break outside, she immediately closed the door in Steve’s face and smiled back at you before running to find Eddie.

Sadly for her, she was just a little late, as Robin searched around back to hide Eddie from your eyes he was just walking in from the side door. He pulled his jacket over his long-sleeved shirt and noticed you waiting by the counter. You tapped your fingers against the desk, waiting for Robin or anyone to speak to you.

“Hey, you need help with something?”. Eddie began walking towards you, as you slowly turned around and Robin rushed through the door and let out a deep breath. She was too late. His eyes widened looking at her disgruntled state, as she just wandered in the back without saying a word.

“She seems nice”. You blurted as he chuckled and nodded, looking back to where Robin had run off to. He began wandering behind the desk and he rested his elbows to lean toward you.

“She gets a little manic sometimes”. He whispered as you both chuckled and nodded, his teeth gleaming back at you.

“Don’t we all”. He laughed at your response, patting the table and standing up straight.

“So you here for movie recommendations? Renting? Buying? Donating maybe?”. His hands reached through the return bin, looking at the labels to find something good. You just smiled back warmly, shaking your head and playing with your fingers.

“I’m uh-new in town and I just…I’m looking for someone actually”. You said in all seriousness as Eddie nodded, you rummaged around in your bag to find something. He wandered around the counter next to you, as you finally pulled out an old polaroid and handed it to him. His eyes widened to the size of planets, inspecting the photo of a young boy. “I don’t know if he still lives around these parts or if this is just a shot in the dark, you…you don’t know him do you?”.

His eyes were still, slowly moving from the photo up to you as he tried to process the situation. “As a matter of fact, I do…”. He said, smirking to himself, shaking his head. “May I ask why you’re looking?“. You sighed and rested your head against the counter with a huff.

“Well we were kinda close when we were kids and since I’m back in Hawkins I thought maybe we could reconnect? God I don’t know, is this just super creepy?”.

“I think it’s kinda endearing.” He chuckled and shot you a smile that made you feel at ease, handing you back the photo.

“So if you know him do you know where I could maybe find him?”. Your eyes gleamed with hope and he chuckled, watching your ears perk up.

He grinned widely and held out his hand. “Long time no see, sweetheart”. Your eyes widened as you were rendered speechless, staring down at his hand in shock.

“Eddie?!”. You exclaimed in shock, as he moved his hair to reveal his name sewn onto his work vest. A wide grin passed your lips as you leapt into his arms and brought him into a huge hug, Robin finally walked out for the back and rolled her eyes at the display, storming back. “Oh my god you…you have hair! And like…so much of it”. Your hands grabbed strands of his hair as you couldn’t stop staring and grinning, his smile never fading as he watched you.

“Yeah, I look a little different huh?”. You just nodded with a smirk and dropped your hands from his hair. “Hey, you’re not exactly the same person I remember when we were kids”. You smiled and bowed your head and nodded slightly, thinking about when you were younger.

“Guess you weren’t the only one growing out your hair. At least people won’t mistake me for your brother anymore, huh?”. He chuckled thinking back to how you used to dress, it never bothered either of you at the time, he just wished kids were a little nicer about it.

“Not everything is different I mean, I’m still with my band, we play a lot of gigs around Hawkins”. Your eyes lit up at the mention of the band as it brought you back to all the times they would play. Private performances for your parents and public ones at school talent shows.

“Corroded coffin? Are you kidding me? Oh my god is it still Gareth and-”.

“And Jeff and Grant yeah.” Robin and Steve watched you both through the blinds, shocked to see Eddie smiling for once. Steve was usually the one with the game, but today it seemed his coworker was doing pretty good on his own. Eddie glanced over and noticed them immediately and sighed, shaking his head, staring up at the ceiling and praying for the Lord to give him strength.

“Here”. He grabbed a pen and some paper and started writing down his home number and handing it over to you.

“Home phone, no pressure to call. Power is in your hands.” You stared back into his eyes and beamed at him with a wide grin. Without hesitation, you pulled him into another hug and held him tightly.

“It was so good seeing you again, Eddie.” As you pulled away he stood in shock at your words and nodded nervously, watching as you waved goodbye and headed out of the store. He let go of the breath he was holding as Robin and Steve rushed out.

“Who the hell was that?”. Steve questioned, Eddie’s face erupting into a wide grin. Before he could open his mouth, a beeping came from his watch.

“Ah sorry Stevie, saved by the bell”. He said, his hands landing in his back pockets as he looked towards the door. “Clock out for me!”. He yelled back as Robin barked back a no, just before the door closed. Life just got a little more interesting.

“Hey Uncle Wayne, any messages for me?”. His uncle shook his head sadly and tried to force a small reassuring smirk.

“Sorry son, told you before I’ll let you know if anyone asks for you.” He patted his hand against his shoulder and rubbed it lightly. Eddie was silent as they shared a longing look before he pulled his leather jacket over his arms.

“I gotta go. I’ll be back after my shift, don’t wait up.” Wayne just nodded and took a deep breath, watching his nephew pile into his van and drive out of the trailer park.

It had been a couple of days and Eddie hadn’t heard anything from his former best friend, it wasn’t like he had any high exceptions but it wasn’t like he wasn’t hoping to hear back. He’d been lucky enough to not share a shift with either of his meddling friends and Robin was too occupied with band practice to bug him about it. That was until this afternoon when he knew the storm that was coming.

Today was an unfortunate double whammy, Steve and Robin. Steve alone might have been bearable, he wasn’t one to pry, but Robin on the other hand possessed no filter and that’s when Steve becomes an enabler. And he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, but the more questions Robin asks the more he starts considering his own and his mouth is already moving faster than his brain.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open with a chime of the bell, bracing for impact. And there it was, the strangest and most unsettling sight to behold. His two best friends resting their elbows against the front desk, wide smiles and eyes as he strongly considered they’d be kidnapped and replaced with creepy carbon copies who didn’t blink. With a large sigh, he stomped over to them and folded his arms across his chest.

He walked over to the counter and began pulling things out of his pockets and placing them on the counter. They shared a glance in confusion as he pulled out a small flat-edged die and held it up to the light with a smile. He rolled it against the table and gestured to it with his hands. “5”. He called out, his colleague's faces scrunched in utter disarray.

“What the hell are you doing?”. Robin finally asked, pushing her hands back and folding her arms.

“Waiting for you to do your damage”. They both rolled their eyes and stood up, groaning in anger as they waved him off and their grins were replaced with disappointed frowns. A laugh escaped him, shaking his head and refilling his pockets. Steve shook his head and sighed, looking back at him.

“You’re not even gonna ask why we were grinning at you like psychos?”. Eddie shrugged, it wasn’t something that was super out of their realm of weirdness.

“It’s because you saw me give my number to someone and you want to know if they called”. Robin scoffed with a smirk and looked back at Steve, leaving Eddie in a state of confusion.

“We don’t need to know if they called or not”. Steve interjected, looking between him and Robin. She wandered over to the work phone and picked up a folded-up piece of paper that was left on the table, his eyebrows raised trying to figure out what was happening when she grinned.

“Because we already know they did”. Eddie’s eyes grew wide, a swirling mixture of shock and fear and confusion flooding his mind as his first instinct was to grab at the note.

Robin moved it away as he growled under his breath and sighed to himself. “I’ll give you it under one condition, you tell us all about this mystery person”. He wanted to say no. To tell himself she was bluffing, but either way, they knew what they said on that phone and he would never find out unless he was complacent. So he rolled his eyes and nodded back at her lightly before he went to grab the note again, her hand still pulling away.

She handed the note to Steve who grinned and opened it up, Eddie’s patience wearing thin. “They said you missed a digit off your phone number so they couldn’t get a hold of you, they also…” Steve leaned against the counter and opened the note up to show Eddie. “Left their number and address”. He was silent and slightly embarrassed as he scrunched his face and snatched the paper from Steve, rereading the words and shoving it into the pockets of his jeans.

“For the record, you guys suck”. Eddie hung up his jacket and pulled his work vest off the hook, pulling his arms through.

“For the record, you owe us the low down on your new babe.” He smiled at her with a smile that she knew all too well, a cocky and proud one that was paired with his signature head tilt.

“Sorry Rob, I’m a sly fox”. He admitted pulling his hand from behind his back and revealing that his fingers were crossed during their agreement. Steve sighed and shook his head in disappointment, as Robin rolled her eyes. “And they're not my new babe, I mean god…it’s been years since we saw each other, a lot can change”.

“Come on man, they looked stoked to see you, even with all these...” His hands gestured to his outfit and hair. “New additions”. He wasn’t sure how he was feeling towards them yet, it was all new. They were still strangers to him now. He had no idea if they’d still be considered friends or not, let alone anything more.

“Hey, don’t know if you noticed but I’m not exactly boyfriend material ‘kay?”. He was the outcast, the nerd, the freak. He’d never fit in even before the leather and chains, stuff like relationships were never really something he needed to concern himself with. “Give it another week and she’ll know all about Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson and then you’ll have to find something else to entertain yourselves with.” His friends seemed a little worried about his self-doubt, sharing a knowing look.

“Listen, Eddie, when they called they seemed super nervous and that’s a telltale sign of liking someone! They could have given up after the phone number fumble but they called your job, they asked us about you. Come on, I know you flunked high school twice but you’re smart enough to know what this means!”. Eddie was silent as he processed her advice but struggled to accept it.

“Robin’s right, Eddie. It was written all over their face, all these years and they are running around Hawkins trying to find you? Seriously, super into you”. It was difficult to hear and he still found it hard to get completely on board with them, but he considered the facts. They did say they were looking around town for him, they did call up to try to contact him. They did hold him a little tighter when they hugged him goodbye. But that could mean anything, right?

#eddie munson #stranger things #reader insert #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things fic #jargyle

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thetombedspirit · 1 month

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Quaritch, Spider... and Teylan???

Okay, so, I've finished the game, but I'm still putting together my pros and cons post, so in the mean time, I give you this little thought experiment.

And be forewarned, it may contain spoilers if you haven't played the game yet.

WHAT IF: after Teylan gives away HQ's location and runs off after the Bombardment, he's just at the lowest of lows, sobbing and berating himself over what he's done.

Then, all of the sudden, a strange human teenager dressed like a Na'vi and a whole squad of Avatars show up and find this crying Na'vi teenager in the middle of the forest. Once Spider gets the kid to calm down, Teylan just pours everything out, because hey, someone's willing to listen.

And he just tells them about how he didn't want to hurt anyone, that Mercer promised no-one would get hurt, and so on and so forth.

So, Quaritch decides that a Na'vi kid as tech savvy as him might have a better use in tracking down Jake Sully then feeling sorry for himself in the forest (also watching the poor kid cry while his human son comforts him is getting hard to watch).

Also, Quaritch knows Mercer's a piece of shit. Like, sure, Quaritch isn't winning any popularity contests either, but Mercer just gives Quaritch all sorts of the wrong vibes. So you know what, fuck him. He's not putting a vulnerable teenager back in his care when he already fucked up the first time.

The weird Na'vi kid's his charge now.

And the entire time they're travelling together, Teylan and Spider are now best friends, finding kinship in their shared history of alienation by their peers. And hey, Quaritch is beginning to like the kid.

But of course, things cannot stay perfect forever. Their tipped off about Norm's chopper going towards the reef islands, they start harassing people and Teylan is getting all sorts of horrible flashbacks as Spider pleads for the Na'vi villager's lives.

Then the big confrontation happens, and Spider and Teylan work together to crash the ship while Payakan attacks the whalers. Teylan's size and strength hold them off long enough for Neteyam and Lo'ak to find them and escape (in this version, Neteyam isn't fatally shot)

Then the whole things over, and Teylan practically sticks to Spider like glue as they slowly acclimate to the Metkayina lifestyle. Teylan eventually works up the courage to contact the Sarentu again, who tells them that Mercer is gone and that is was safe to come back home. (they initially win in the first assault against Mercer since Teylan's not there to intervene) Teylan is... not sure what to think. Time with Quaritch and the Recons have given him clarity on his fixation with Mercer's approval and with Mercer's lies. So, on one hand, he's glad he's gone so that he can never hurt or lie to him anymore. But who is he now without Mercer's direction? He's not sure.

In the end, Teylan decides to stay where he is, though he tells the Sarentu he's okay, he needs time to collect his thoughts and figure out who he is now. The Sarentu, though reluctant to leave him alone, says they understand and to contact them when he's ready. Teylan assures them that he's not alone.

I realise that this became less of a thought experiment and more of a full on prompt, but I still think it'd be a unique AU.

Anyway, let me know what you think, and I promise, my pros and cons post is coming soon.

#avatar frontiers of pandora #avatar the way of water #avatar spider #avatar teylan #avatar miles quaritch #afop #atwow

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prodbymaui · 1 year

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Reminder

everytime you try to forget who I am, I'll be right there to remind you again

The music blasting through your ears and echoing as you danced with strangers at the dance floor was somewhat sort of comforting. Multiple types of alcohols kept being placed right at your table near, your shots became more frequent that resulted to you drinking more than you planned. Your face grimaced at the bitter yet satisfying drink, shaking your head as if it would help ease the blurring images of your vision.

''I feel like vomitting!'' Your menace of a friend yelled right at your ear, battling the loudness of the music. ''I'll go with you!'' Offering her was no avail as she answered you with a dismissive hand.

''Don't cockblock me, bitch,'' Ningning whispered, her eyes side-eyeing the man whom you were sure she had been grinding on for the past few minutes both of you were there.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed her away, to the the direction of the bathroom before giving her your middle finger to wish her good luck that she scored a big dick.

Further extending your time at the dance floor, you realized that it was less fun alone and you decided to go back to your table upstairs, wanting to feel the presence of your other friends again. As you made your way out of the crowd, your eyes somehow landed on the glass doors leading to the balcony.

There, standing proudly with his elbows leaned on the railings, was your ex boyfriend, Lee Haechan. His eyes were hooded as he sipped from the drinking glass that his fingers held carelessly. It appeared that he's paying little to no attention to whom you recognized a friend of him, Jeno.

Awareness only made itself known when minutes had already passed and yet you were still staring at him. You blinked as you met the enticing look in his eyes, gulping while you felt the familiar feeling bubbling inside you. Walking away was something your mind wanted but it seemed like your body said otherwise.

Haechan smirked at the frozen figure he was staring at, chewing on his bottom lips as he enjoyed the sight of your exposed cleavage and juicy thighs in the little skirt that he loved so much. If he didn't know better, Haechan would think that you wore those skimpy clothes for him.

The man followed you, almost immediately, when his brain processed that you were walking away. He placed his glass on their table that he passed by and traced your footsteps, finding himself at the woman's bathroom.

Observing the inside first, Haechan entered the private room, concluding that there was no one around, from what he saw with the open cubicles. He locked the door behind him and stride towards your unsuspecting figure, hands in his pockets.

His arm circled around your waist, pulling you close to his chest as he pressed his lips at your ears. The other hand of him that was free held your chin softly, tilting your face up.

Placing a sweet kiss lightly, nosing your hair as he whispered, ''Forgotten about me yet, my love?''

#lee haechan #lee donghyuck #nct 127 #nct #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #haechan scenarios #haechan drabbles #haechan imagines #haechan hard hours #haechan smut #haechan fluff #haechan angst #prodbymaui

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illunicae · 1 month

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Little fluffy snippet of my current WIP that I'm trying to get done as a one shot. It's an human au sort of thing with the rise boys. Oh and it's a mix with FNAF.

After a while the group hug fell apart as everyone got comfortable in the pillows and the movie started. By the end of the movie, Mikey was fighting to stay awake and losing as his eyes were closing for longer blinks. Raph turned off the tv and it didn’t take long for the group to fall asleep on the pile of pillows and mess of blankets.

Waking, you found yourself in a tangle of twisted blankets and flailed limbs. By the sounds of the soft breaths and snores it was clear that the boys were still very much asleep. You could see the soft light of morning just barely starting to peek over the horizon through the living room window. You smiled happily as you let yourself cuddle deeper into the pillows around you. As you let your eyelids slowly drift shut for a few more hours of sleep, you saw a figure with long maroon hair pass by the living room. The figure had paused briefly to glance at the children sleeping in the fort with a soft smile before moving. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel alarmed as you slipped back into slumber. The boys had mentioned their “uncle” before. Maybe you’ll meet the man when you all wake up for breakfast.

Someone was poking your cheek when you woke up a second time. Bright sunlight warmed your skin, but it also bashed against your eyelids, driving sleep from your body. That and the persistent prodding at your cheek had you groaning and rolling over in an empty pillow pile. You barely registered you were alone in the blanket fort before a voice was hissing your name and the pokes became more insistent.

“Mikey!” Another voice whisper shouted, “Raph told you to leave her alone and let her sleep.”

“But she’s hardly sleepin’ now.” Mikey whisper-argued back.

“And whose fault would that be?”

There was a thick pause and you decided that sleep had truly abandoned you to the waking world. You slowly sat up with a groan, pulling on your wrists above your head to loosen up your joints. The resonating popping made you hum with delight. “I’m up no worries.” You mumbled. The blanket that was resting on your shoulders fell away, bunched around your waist. You rubbed your eyes as you glanced over at the two boys staring at you.

Mikey giggled as you climbed out of the blanket fort. You could feel the static making some stray hairs cling to the back of your neck; you could also feel that your head was a little top heavy as sleeping on a pile of pillows instead of a proper bed whipped your hair into a wicked updo of bed head. You could tell that Donnie was also holding back a small fit of giggles as you blushed furiously in embarrassment and tried to tame your truly unruly hair.

You only got it halfway decent before Mikey grabbed your hand to drag you to the kitchen where you smelled something heavenly cooking.

“Pops made panacakes.” Mikey chirped as he pulled you over to the dining table with Donnie trailing behind.

“It’s PANcakes, Mikey.” Donnie corrected.

“That’s what I said, panacakes.” Mikey nodded.

Your stomach made its interest known as you caught sight of the large stack piled in the middle of the light oak table. Raph and Leo both greeted you as they seemed to be in the middle of setting the table.

“Ay, nice bed head, chica.” Leo called with a chuckle. You stuck out your tongue and ran another hand through your hair.

Everyone eventually settled down around the table to dig into the glorious golden pancakes. A new figure joined your group of five children and one adult around the breakfast table. He was tall; taller than Mr. Yoshi, that's for sure. He had dark maroon hair that reached just past his shoulders and dark eyes of almost the same color. Those eyes filled with warmth as he smiled toward you with a greeting; however, there was something slightly off, something cold and calculated. Your train of thought was derailed though as Mikey cheerfully introduced you to their “uncle” Draxum.

#my writing #work in progress #snippets #Rubatosis fic #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt draxum #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x you #rottmnt x oc #human rottmnt #fnaf au #rottmnt fnaf crossover

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lazypeachsoul · 1 year

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Like I've known you forever.

Summary: Sometimes traumatic events make you realise how deeply you love someone or a collection of moments and memories of love after the birdstrike.

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x F!Reader

Word Count: 3k.

Rating: No warnings per se but the events are a bit sad because it's after the birdstrike, hospitals, mentions of painkillers, ilnesses.

A/N: Normal is current events, Italics are memories. Inspired by one of my favourite movies and I thought the quote fit Bob so well. As always, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes. And enjoy.

Days off were a sort of myth for your little two person —one cat— household. The sort of myth you grew weary of fully enjoying because at any moment a call could end your boyfriend’s off time. But you enjoyed nonetheless because any minute you got together you cherished. But this time it was different. This time the house felt tense and cold, nothing to do with the bright and home-y feeling of mornings spent watching a show and laughing together. This time you were trying to fold for the third time the couch blanket while keeping your ears open for any sounds coming from the bedroom.

He was okay —that’s what he had said—, just needed to sleep off the tension —also his words— and spend some time with you —brown noser—. According to the doctors he had a bruised rib and you should look out for possible neck or back pain caused by falling a few thousand feet at high speed. Look out for that while being grateful that it was only pain and not a spinal break. Damn it, there go the tears again. Walking towards the living-room window, unfolded blanket still in your hand, you realised how late it had gotten. The day was winding down to and end in a mix of oranges and yellows while you wrung out the fabric between your hands.

Your mind couldn’t stop replaying the events of the last 48 hours.

You were in the middle of what your boss had warned you was a very important meeting for the company, a potential new big shot client. Robert knew and had wished you the best of luck before he left for work looking like a dream in his ironed uniform and his recently gelled hair. So when your phone started vibrating against your desk you frowned, knowing very few calls would have gone through in Do Not Disturb mode. In fact, it could only be one of four people: Robert, his mom, your mom or Maverick.

Fully ready to see Bob’s contact picture you almost had to do a double check when you saw it was actually Maverick calling.The voice of your boss speaking through the laptop became nothing but background noise while you tried to reason why Maverick would be calling you. Your gut told you to answer quickly and it spoke so loud you pressed the green button before you could properly excuse yourself from the meeting. And soon it became apparent you weren’t the only one feeling the urgency.

“Maverick?” Was the only word you could muster, your overthinking brain always negative.

“Hey, I’m sorry to call you.” Oh well, that wasn’t a good start to the conversation. “Bob and Phoenix had some difficulties during today’s training-”

“Difficulties? That sounds-” “Worse than it really is, don’t worry. They are being rescued as we speak-”

“Rescued!?” You asked raising your voice, probably an effect of the fear and that run through your veins. If the word difficulties made your heart skip a beat the word rescued restarted it completely. You could feel the adrenaline starting to flow through your veins, suddenly feeling cold and warm at the same time.

“Sorry, it’s technical talk I didn’t want to scare you. I know how hard a call like this is.” Did he? But even if he didn’t a part of your mind thanked the excuse. “The team said they looked in okay shape and are being brought to the base hospital for a check up. I wanted to call you before you received a call from the hospital, thought it would be less intimidating.” Had you been in your right mind you would have almost laughed at his sheepish voice. “Although I don’t seem to be doing it very well.”

A ping sounded through the speakers of the laptop and a chat notification from the video call system appeared. A private message from your boss. Everything okay? You look pale from that call. You knew there was more than worry written in the message, probably a reprimand about taking private calls during a meeting. But your mind at the moment only seemed to care about how injured you needed to be to be considered in ‘okay shape’. Okay?

“Are you still there? I know the news are unexpected-”

“Yeah, I’m still here.” At least you thought you were, even if you couldn’t stop picturing horrible scenarios involving a jet plane, your boyfriend and your best friend. “I should go to the hospital right?”

You probably sounded like a horrible girlfriend, the worst. But nobody ever takes the time to explain the protocol for technical difficulties resulting in the need of a rescue and hospital checkup.

“Are you okay to drive? You sound shocked. Don’t want you distracted on the wheel.”

You looked at the message from your boss and managed to type a few words: Bob was in accident. Grammar be damned. And as soon as you sent the message all the adrenaline that up until this point had been building in your body exploded. The laptop slammed shut while you muttered “See you there” to Maverick on the phone, picking up what your amped up brain considered essentials before you run to the car.

A movement outside the window snapped you from your painful memories, a bird flying to find refuge before the day became night. Birds. At one point when you were a child you wanted to be like them, flying looked to be the most freeing experience. And when you met Bob you realised that maybe your interest in flying was a happy coincidence. One of life’s funny foreshadowing moments. Birdstrike, that’s what the ha told you.

“How can something as small as a bird win against millions of dollars of military technology?” You mumbled against Bob’s neck almost without realising. The question had been in your head since Maverick tried to explain to you the situation in the waiting room.

Bob couldn’t help but let out a wheezy laugh, wanting to groan at the pain in his chest but fighting against it fearing you might remove yourself from his arms. “Isn’t it incredible? Best pilots in the US navy and a pidgeon knocked us out.” You lifted your head and looked at him with a raised brow. “Okay, maybe not incredible. Bad wording. It’s surprising.” He rectified with a small smile.

Silence, or as much silence as possible in a hospital full with beeping machines, surrounded you when you kissed his temple before pressing your forehead against it. The adrenaline rush fizzled into tiredness, but every time you closed your eyes horrible images conjured by your imagination plagued you. “I love you.” You heard him muster and you smiled. “Thank you for being here.”

It broke your heart to think how he might be feeling. You were suffering the effects of not knowing, but he probably was feeling the effects of knowing exactly what could’ve happened and didn’t. “Nowhere else I would rather be, bub.” You muttered close to his ear, not wanting to disturbe the atmosphere created in the room. “Well, maybe home without the scare. But always with you.”

“Something interesting going on with the neighbours?” Spoke behind you the same voice you had been daydreaming about, making you jump in your place.

“What are you doing out of bed? You are supposed to be on complete bed rest!” You turned to walk his way. But he quickly stopped you with a raised hand and a bright smile.

While he walked towards the window you took your time to check him out to see potential damage -what would spine damage look like? The doctor didn’t explain that part-. But you could only see his unruly hair, blonde curl falling against his forehead, and his crooked glasses. His cheeks were rosy, more than likely result of the painkillers and the deep sleep, and his eyes had recuperated the shine they lacked after a night in hospital. His wrinkly pijamas only adding to his relaxed image. Definitely not the image of someone who had fallen out of a plane at 50 feet per second 48 hours earlier. Once he was within reach he took the blanket from your hands and draped it over your shoulders before pulling you close to him with it.

“Okay mother hen.” He spoke softly, almost as if scared that any sound louder would spook you. “I think it’s more dangerous if I lie all day, blood clots from lack of movement are a real risk.” Damn, should you be looking out for that too? The doctor hadn’t said anything. Almost as if he could read your thoughts he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Stop. I’m okay.”

You wanted to say that he wasn’t. Wanted to recite the statistics for the results of jet plane ejections you had googled while in the waiting room. To repeat the diagnosis the doctor had made. But that wouldn’t have been good for either of you. You raised on your tip toes, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips that meant only three things: sorry, I love you and I’m still taking care of you.

“I am probably overbearing. I’m sure you would prefer to be in that hospital room again.” You joked, a probably too morbid joke that he seemed to get thankfully.

“Ah yes, nothing like the smell of disinfectant and sickness to feel better. Definitely, tender love and care from my favourite girl doesn’t even come close.”

His favourite girl, how you loved to hear him say it.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Maybe the disinfectant in the air could clean your system of the icky feeling the wait had left you in. You looked at the plaque on the door and triple checked this was the right room. It was. You also justified the minutes you had already spent in front of the door without moving because you could hear voices inside the room talking. Deep breath in and you raised your hand to knock and the door opened quickly, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Oh, Lieutenant. It looks like you have your first visitor.” The man in scrubs and a white coat exclaimed with too much enthusiasm for a hospital. “Please come in, I’m already done. I’m guessing you are his next of kin?”

You nodded while walking inside, not daring to look up yet.

“She’s my favourite girl, doctor.” Bob’s voice spoke up, but that wasn’t a very Bob-like phrase. Always prefering privacy over ostentatious declarations.

You looked up then, deep breaths be damned, and you realised nothing could have prepared you to see the man you loved so deeply laying in a hospital bed and hooked to different machines. Now you understood what Maverick meant with ‘okay shape’. Bob looked okay except for a few scratches and an ugly bruise in his cheekbone, but not even his loopy smile could make you stop worrying.

“Hi baby.” He said his a slight slurred voice that made your heart clench. He tried to raise his arm to wave you but dropped it a groan.

“Nice to meet you, I’m doctor Stevens.” You gave him your name with a tense smile, not wanting to remove your eyes from your boyfriend face for too long, as if he might disappear. “All his tests came back okay, only a bruised rib. But they probably already told you that.” You nodded, they had informed you while you were waiting. “He’s under the effects of the painkillers, so don’t worry if he’s a bit out of it.”

The doctor probably wanted to speak more to you, talk about tests and x-rays. But nothing in that moment meant to you more than the man laying in the bed with a smile too big to be natural. Sensing the disconnect, the doctor quickly said his goodbyes and moved towards the door. Walking towards the bed you couldn’t help to ask.

“Doctor, is Phoenix okay?” Seeing Bob had relaxed your nerves a little, but the same worry kept circling your head. And you knew even under the haze of the painkillers Bob would want to know too.

“Lieutenant Trace appears to be in as good shape as one could be in this situation. They were both incredibly lucky.”

Lucky. Your lucky best friend. Your lucky boy.

“What was so interesting? You spent quite some time looking out the window.” He repeated his first question and you turned in his arms to look out the window again. Pressing your back against his chest -carefully because of the injury- you sighed contentedly when his arms wrapped around you.

“Nothing. It’s peaceful out there at this time.” You murmur and he hums against the hair at the back of your head. “Looking at the birds.”

He tensed a little and a sigh brushed against your head. You knew it was probably soon, or maybe not an appropriate time but you also couldn’t find it in you to lie. “You always loved the birds.”

And it was the tone in which he said those words, as if instead of knowing eachother for a three years he had known you for your entire lifetime. The tone that said I wasn’t there but I knew you even when I didn’t. That’s what made the sting of tears appear. Because you felt exactly the same about him. And you knew he wanted to spare you of any pain and that he wasn’t able to protect you from the fear hurt him too. Sweet Robert, raised to put the ones he love before himself.

“I love you.” You spoke after a minute of trying to reorganise your thoughts. “I love you so much it hurts sometimes.” You could hear him huff behind you and you knew he was about to interrupt you. So you turned quickly and pressed your hand against his mouth to shush him preemptively. “Let me speak. Sometimes it hurts because I simply cannot process all the feelings and I can only hope that you understand one third of the feelings I have for you. Because I’m unbelievably lucky that I found you. While also sad that I haven’t known you for longer because I wish I could have been therefor every story you tell me, good or bad.”

By that point the knot in your throat was too big to keep talking, but just by looking at Bob’s eyes you knew he knew. And the shine in his eyes told you he was feeling something big too. You raised your hand to straighten his still crooked glasses and he grabbed your wrist, placing the inside of it against his lips to press a soft kiss.

“I don't believe in luck.” He spoke, tickling the skin of your wrist with the movement of his chapped lips. “I do believe we've known each other since forever, though.”

“Really?” You whispered while moving your hand to rest against his warm cheek.

“Yeah. You know how?” You shook your head no, enjoying the softness in his voice that paired so well with the now purple and blue tones coming from the window. “When the big bang happened, all the atoms in the universe, they were all smashed together into one little dot that exploded outward. So my atoms and your atoms were certainly together then, and, who knows, probably smashed together several times in the last 13.7 billion years. So my atoms have known your atoms and they've always known your atoms. My atoms have always loved your atoms.”

And if the Robert lying on the hospital bed pumped full of drugs wasn’t your Robert, this was exactly him. Scientific and precise, and loving and just a perfect amount of nerdy that made your stomach fill with butterflies. The Robert that could make talking about atoms the most romantic thing ever said in history. Your Robert, forever.

“Do I know you?” You asked the blonde man standing to your right at the crowded bar.

You were feeling a bit out of your comfort zone surrounded by so many people in the bar,, that’s why you had offered yourself to get the drinks not thinking this side would be even more crowded. But, somehow, in the middle of the chaos you had found yourself next to a blonde man who seemed as uncomfortable as you. While waiting for your drinks you couldn’t help but glance at him from time to time, your gut telling yo there was something familiar about him.

He looked at you surprised and opened and closed his mouth several times before clearing his throat. “I-I don’t think so.” The man answered before he seemed to rethinking his answer. “I wouldn’t forget a face so beautiful.”

And you appreciated the sentiment but it almost sounded weird out of his mouth. But he himself cringed at his bad pick up line so you knew your reaction wasn’t alone. With a chuckle you introduced yourself and he reciprocated with a bashful smile.

“Well Robert, I am so glad now I know you.” “I’m sure I won’t forget you now, pick up lines aside.”

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