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yorshie · 2 months

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Hi there 😊 I saw ur request opened and wanted to see if I could request reader having a nightmare and they call the turtles (or one of them) in the middle of the night bc they’re too panicked and they try to help calm them down maybe over the phone or go to their place to help! Sorry for the long ask haha Thank you!!

Hello Nonnie! I'm finally (slowly. so painfully slowly) cleaning out my ask box and replying lol. I went with Leo for this one, simply because when I started writing his name just kinda popped up naturally.

Bayverse Leonardo x GN Reader, SFW

The whir of the ceiling fan woke you up.

It was usually a comforting sound, but now, with the press of adrenaline against your chest and the echoes of the dream clinging to your skin like a fine sheen of oil, the creak of the paddles spinning overhead read as a threat to your muddled mind.

You pulled the covers back, feet finding the cold floor and bringing a new shiver that informed you of the layer of sweat behind your knees, at your elbows, making your shirt stick to your spine in crinkly ridges where you’d tossed through the dream. Your heartbeat pounded at your temples, your jaw, relentless as it told you you had to run, had to hide, had to go.

The clock on your bedside table read 3:14 am. Too early to get up, to eat food to soothe the latent fear still in your stomach. But superstition had you moving, padding into the kitchen to pull a tortilla from the package left on the counter. You rolled the piece of bread up and shoved it halfway into your mouth, stopping at the bathroom on your way back to the warmth of the bed.

The reflection greeting you over the mirror after you did your business looked sane, looked normal. Nothing to indicate the nightmare still haunted you, still peered over your shoulder, just waiting for you to fall back to sleep. You didn’t feel the phantom clawed hands reaching for your shoulders until your back hit the mattress, tortilla still shoved in one cheek, and the spinning ceiling fan was there once more to greet you.

You squinted, watching the paddles in the low light from the window. The dream was starting to fade, but it lingered like the curling, tacky edges of the vinyl tabletops in an old diner. Waiting to leave just a little residual glue on your skin, to follow you around.

You glanced at the clock again, contemplated staying up until the sun rose and could blanket out the hushed magic of the early morning, when your eyes snagged on your phone, lying crooked and part way in the opened drawer where it usually charged.

Your fingers found the familiar edges, pulled it across the bed towards you. There was a new message, from Blue, about thirty minutes ago. The notification extended a lifeline, a buoy to hold onto while the frigid waters of the dream still lapped at your consciousness.

Your thumb tapped the screen, slid open the message.

He was home from patrol, wanted to let you know everything was fine, that he and his brothers had gotten home safe. The balloon of unnamed fear deflated just a touch in your chest, the unknown fear in the heartbeat at your temples tripping up in its terror before lessening just a touch. Like a ship sighted in a storm, you stared at the little blue heart attached to the last message, a wish for you to sleep well.

Without thinking, you hit the call button, bringing the device to the cradle of your ear and shoulder. The rings stretched out in front of you, one after another. You could almost imagine the boat getting further away, the line of safety attached to the buoy growing taunt…

“Hello?” Leo’s voice, soft and questioning on your name, like a light cascading from the boat, finding you immediately in the dark. His voice was a halo of safety as the captain turned the rudder and you were pulled in.

“Leo?” You confirmed, childishly, knowing his voice, but needing the confirmation to yourself as much as to let him know you were there. “Sorry, I uh, saw your message… had a bit of a nightmare, wanted to talk to you if that’s ok?”

And because it was Leo, because he never really stopped worrying, he answered immediately, tone dipping a bit as he used the voice that meant he was processing intel. “Of course, are you ok? Do you need to talk about it?”

The concern, him using the ‘leader’ voice on you, brought a reflexive smile to your face. If you asked him, he’d be there in ten minutes, you knew, regardless if he was technically supposed to or not. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I promise. I just… needed to hear your voice.”

Leo exhaled, the sound a little staticy over the line, and you could almost picture the relief sliding the concern off his shoulders. “Do you need me to come to you?”

Heart in your throat, you let yourself have the imagined fantasy. His shadow at your window, his scales pressed up against your skin, entangled in the too small bed with you. His hands running through your hair, simply existing for a moment.

But with that fantasy came the little bubble of reality. The way he’d watch the horizon, the gaps between the buildings outside your window for the first flicker of light. Always on a timetable, like Cinderella and her pumpkin coach, on the lookout for the danger of traveling back to the Lair with the sun always encroaching.

Reeling in the selfish desire, you spoke low, just for him. “No, I’m ok, it’s almost four already.” You rolled the tortilla to the other cheek, took another bite.

Leo must have heard the sound, because he chuckled softly. “Do you have a tortilla stuffed in your mouth right now?”

“Grandma’s superstition wearing off on me, I’m afraid.” You told him, honest, not fearing judgment from the turtle you’d gladly call your best friend.

“I like her recipe you made last summer, with the peppers and cheese.” He admitted, and you heard his words echo just a touch when he placed you on speaker, followed by the rustle of clothes and a long sigh. You knew what he was doing, getting ready for bed, likely folding his pants. You could close your eyes and imagine yourself there with him, beside him in his bed, maybe back against his headboard while he laid on his plastron, one arm hooked around your waist and a pillow half over your lap for his head…

“I’ll make it for you again this weekend, if you’d like.” You offered, letting the imagined scenarios soothe you, letting the lull of Leonardo wash away the tacky residue of the dream. You breathed in deeply, listening to him hum low on the other end of the phone.

“Deal.” Leo agreed, and you just knew he was smiling in the dark of his room. Maybe that little dimple at the corner of his mouth was showing, maybe…

“Are you falling asleep on me?” He asked, voice soft, so soft.

You murmured dissent, but he still chuckled, breath hitting the receiver once more in a familiar way. “Take the tortilla out of your mouth at least, darling. Text me when you wake up, alright?”

You murmured agreement, swallowing the last bite of gummy flatbread thickly. The waves rocked you gently, a tide of Leo’s even breaths in your ear, the mantra of his lungs working as a leading drum for your heartbeat to slow to.

Before you dropped off, comforted in the buoy of your mind tied to safety, Leonardo murmured over the phone, “Love you, sweetheart. Goodnight.”

#my writing requests #tmnt bayverse #bayverse leonardo #bayverse leo #bayverse leonardo x reader #bayverse leo x reader

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rosepinksky · 2 months

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Pay For My Time (pt. 6)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female reader

In which Ghost's neighbour drags him in for dinner, and then ruins his life.

Warnings: alcohol use, implied dub-con due to alcohol use but it's stopped in its tracks!, ghost being a possessive mess and i am FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FOR IT

word count: 2.5k

ao3 link

part 1 (smutty!)

masterlist

Ghost had sat there, perched on the stairs outside her floor with his leg jerking in anticipation, for upwards of an hour. He rested his chin on his knuckles, breath misting in the November chill of the stair close. Another glance at his phone- 1:40am- and he rose, storming down into the street. He slipped past the raucous crowds milling outside the pub across the road, his hands clenching in his jacket pockets to keep warm.

The club Lucy danced in was on a side of the city far shittier than the one they lived in, and that was saying something. He could feel the passersby’s eyeing him up as he walked, sizing him up. None approached.

It was sort of understandable, the way this demographic of patrons flocked to this street in particular. The kind of place where everybody implicitly understood to not discuss their activities there in the office the next day. A fucking rural Westworld, tucked away in a northern English city. A casino with its bright neon signs spilling a rainbow onto the chipped pavement, a pub advertising £3 pints- Christ, he’s been in London too much- and the Black fucking Lace, cartoonish vinyl stickers of women on poles plastered to the frosted windows.

He can hear her before he sees her; a cackle of drunken laughter around the back of the building. He heads toward the sound, and there she is; scantily-clad form draped in a man’s suit jacket that hangs on her like an oversized coat, stumbling a little on her ridiculous heels. She’s leant against the railing of the fire exit stairs, eyes glittering and hazy as she grins lazily up at the man spouting shite at her. He laughs, wrapping his arm around her waist to draw her closer, and she lets him, responding with her own bright little giggles.

The bottle of beer in his hand sloshes in his grip, droplets splashing onto her exposed skin and she takes it, taking a long drink as she holds the man’s gaze.

Ghost’s fists clench even tighter in his pockets as he watches the stranger’s eyes light up at her contact, his pig hands sliding up over her lower back. Creepy fucker, touching up the woman practically swaying on her feet in front of him.

He clears his throat as he approaches the pair, Lucy’s head turning to face him. Her smile wavers but doesn’t drop, her eyes taking him in from head to toe. He’s sure he looks the picture of wrath, all squared shoulders and hulking black mass, but tries to keep his expression composed.

“You alright, Vi?” He does his best to keep his tone soft as he keeps his eyes on her, yet to acknowledge the greasy little man with his hands on her.

She nods, taking another swig of the beer. “Never better, John. Did you need something?”

He bristles. “Looks like you might need someone to walk you home. Long night, huh?”

She smiles, and he swears it’s cruel, and she turns her attention back to the man attached to her. “Yeah. Danny here’s got it covered, don’t worry.”

He finally lifts his eyes from her to the man. Danny.

“Danny here looks like he has a bit more on his mind than just making sure you get home safe. Isn’t that right, mate?”

The man rolls his shoulders back, appearing to calculate the risk Ghost poses right now. More than you know, mate.

“You her boyfriend or something, man? Hey, I don’t want trouble. She seemed pretty fucking available to me.” Oh, so he’s a big man now?

“Not her boyfriend. Just don’t appreciate little shits like you taking advantage of vulnerable women.”

Lucy scoffs, stepping between Ghost and the man. “I’m not fucking vulnerable, I’m a grown woman. Back off, Ghost.”

Danny laughs sharply, pulling her back against his chest by the waist. “Ghost? What sorta fucking name is that?”

Ghost’s glare hardens. “Callsign. Counter-terrorism, SAS.”

There’s a moment of tense silence, and Lucy’s eyes are locked onto his. He swears he can see her pupils dilate in the pink glow of the buzzing neon lights.

She shoves the beer back into the creep’s hands without so much as a glance back at him, the liquid frothing and spilling onto his sleeve. “I’m tired. Let’s get a taxi, Smith.” She brushes past the both of them, ignoring the disgruntled calls of protest from the sleazebag behind them. Ghost nods, shooting the bloke a smug grin hidden beneath his balaclava.

He follows after her, resisting the bizarre urge to wrap a protective arm around her waist.

More than protective, actually.

Possessive.

He ruminates on the way he finds her so much easier to digest when she’s sitting quietly in the back of the taxi next to him, her features lit up every so often by the passing lights of the city. He’d always gone for quiet girls in the past, even if he’d never admit out loud that was something he sought out.

She’s not quiet. God, she’s a bona fide wreck, if anything. Her entire being reeks of substance abuse, of nymphomania and likely some deep-rooted parental issues to boot. She is a walking red flag, the kind of person who’d lead you astray and chip away at your morals with her siren-like smile.

He knows this; he’s no stranger to dangerous vices, makes no claim to innocence. Still, while he may not be the top subscriber of the on-base psychology facilities, he’s sat through enough mandated sessions to recognise self-destruction when he sees it.

She doesn’t turn to face him when she speaks. Her voice is lowered, cognizant of the driver separated from them only by a thin plastic screen.

“I know why you came to get me tonight.”

He hums in response, fingers adjusting their grip on his elbows.

“…I’m not going to play the sweetheart just because you wanted to play the hero.”

A pause. He takes a moment to stare at the blur of streets and lampposts outside the window before answering.

“You told me the first night we met that you’re selfish- and I don’t take you for a liar.”

She does turn to face him then, eyes swimming with an emotion he can’t quite place yet. Gratitude. Pride, maybe.

There’s another pause, and she clears her throat. “So- SAS, huh? Anti-terrorism.”

Ghost chuckles then, his expression softening. “You seem surprised.”

She shrugs, smiling softly. “I don’t know. Sort of had you pegged as a preening Coast Guard rookie.”

He laughs again, a little heartier this time. “The Coast Guard do good work.”

Her smile widens. “I know. My brother used to volunteer, when he was in high school.”

His posture stiffens in surprise. “You got a brother?”

Lucy doesn’t move. It’s like she’s gone somewhere; he wonders where. “…Yeah. Two, actually. And a sister.”

Ghost- well, on further introspection, this is Simon talking- raises an eyebrow. She hiccups, and he has to fight to hold back a smile.

“I had a brother.”

She’s quiet for a moment, long nails picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of the suit jacket. The image of Danny the Prick shivering as he heads back inside to settle his bill without it amuses Ghost to no end.

“Had?” She asks, voice gentler than he’d heard from her before.

No, actually, that wasn’t true. Her voice was soft that first night they’d spoken, her hands running along his thighs as she knelt between his legs. He hadn’t seen her like that since; all docile and tone filled with a sincerity that had him believing she actually cared about what he had to say.

He nods, and debates elaborating. She probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning- God, I wonder how much of her life she’s lost to drunken blackouts. Does she still feel 19 because she can only remember 19 out of however many years she’s lived?

She doesn’t press for more anyway, hazy eyes starting to droop. He thinks, just for a second, that she’ll lay her head against his shoulder, but she shifts her weight to lean her forehead against the condensation-coated window with a stifled yawn.

“…Simon.”

Her eyes flutter back open, and he feels the twist of regret in his stomach as he takes in the patch of smeared foundation of her forehead now.

“Huh?” She frowns at him, the drink and the sleep muffling her hearing.

With his voice still barely above a whisper, he repeats himself. “Simon.” He clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest. “My name.”

It takes her a second, but a smile spreads across her smudged lips. “Simon.” She chirps back, seemingly pleased with the way his name sounds on her tongue. She chuckles to herself, pressing her knees against his. He doesn’t press back, but does keep his legs in place, feeling the chilled skin of her knees through his trousers. He holds his breath.

He had to practically herd her up the stairs when they pull up to the building, his hands hovering over her waist in fear of her tripping and tumbling down the long flights of stairs. She looks up at him as they stop outside of her door, her fingers curling around the collar of his jacket.

“Are you gonna come in?”

“No, Lucy. Not tonight.” His response is quick, anticipating her question. He untangles his fingers from him, bringing them back down to her sides.

She shakes her head, eyes flickering over his broad chest. “Not to fuck. Just…stay.”

There’s a long pause, and she keeps her gaze down. He furrows his brows, keeping his gentle grasp around her wrists.

“To just…sleep?”

Another fleeting moment of silence, and she nods. He grunts in response, shrugging his shoulders. A flicker of a smile creeps across his lips at the sight of her own, and he’s once again grateful for the privacy mask he’d grabbed before leaving his flat earlier.

She unlocks her door, tripping over her entrance rug as she fiddles with the clasps on her shoes, tossing them in the vague direction of the hallway cupboard. He clicks his teeth at the sight of her numerous lamps and lighting fixtures still on despite her being out for the past few hours.

“Fucking fire hazard, Luce.” He chastises, and she snorts out a drunken laugh.

“Better than cracking my head open trying to fumble for the light switch in the dark.”

He hums at that, an unconvinced allowance at her logic. He follows her through to the bedroom, smirking at the haphazard piles of clothes she’d pulled out of her wardrobe earlier she’d neglected to pick up.

“You were gonna bring that Danny bloke home with your place a tip like this?”

Lucy rolls her eyes at him, shoving the crumpled heaps of lace and satin into a drawer. “Didn’t particularly care about his opinion of my homemaking capabilities.”

She strips off the flimsy material of her dress, tossing it into a hamper. He eyes the intricate straps of her lingerie, clasps tucked under layers of overlapping silk. She brushes her hair over one shoulder, and by God is he tempted to press a kiss to the bare skin exposed.

“Help me out of this?” Her tone is light, innocent, but that woman knows exactly what she’s doing. Ghost complies with a grunt, thick fingers brushing against her back as he undoes the knots, the bows and the little buckles holding the garment in place. He lets it drop to the floor unceremoniously, and revels in the way her breath hitches as he kneels to the floor behind her and hooks his fingers over the hem of her underwear.

He keeps his eyes on the side of her face turned towards him over her shoulder as he lifts the bottom of his mask and presses his lips to the back of her thigh, smiling against her skin as the touch makes her jolt forward on her unsteady legs.

He curls one hand against her knee to still her, keep her in place as he trails his lips upward, breathing in the heady scent of her. It’s a mixture of smells that has him nosing against her, rain and sweat, stale beer and sweet perfume and her. Lucy, not Violet.

He tugs her underwear down, over the curve of her hips and past the flesh of her thighs, letting the scarlet piece of lace fall to the floor next to her bra. He keeps his gaze down as he lets his finger travel up back towards her core, pinky finger extending out to swipe across the swell of her ass.

He stands, pulling her hair back over her shoulder to fall down across her back. “Let’s get you into my shirt again and into bed, princess.” He whispers close to her ear, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning at the way she shivers.

“Uh-huh.” She nods, turning to face him again. Her hands drop to his belt buckle, glancing up at him for permission. He nods, watching her closely as she gathers the coordination to pull the leather off of him, undoing his trousers too and dropping to her knees just like he had done to pull the hem down to his knees. She stares up at him for a second, pupils blown, before turning her attention towards his boots. She mumbles a soft curse as she struggles with the tightly-knotted laces, acrylic nails too long to let her undo them with any sort of ease.

Ghost chuckles, but doesn’t move to help her. He watches from above as she bends forward to tug and pull at his shoes, doing nothing more than lifting his foot slightly to let her take the shoe off. He throws his jacket over her door, pulling his shirt off over his head and offering it to her.

She leans back on her heels, donning the soft cotton tee. “And the mask?” She asks hopefully.

“Not tonight, Luce.” His words echo the ones he’d spoken outside of her door as he cups her jaw, his hands large enough to take her entire cheek into his palm. “Bedtime.”

She sighs, pouting just slightly, but acquiesces and crawls underneath the floral-patterned sheets. He follows, grabbing at her waist and pulling her onto his chest.

She whines. “The light, Si.”

He raises an eyebrow, lifting his head off of the pillow to look down at her. “Si?” He asks incredulously. She just waves off the question, arousal quickly dissipated by her body’s need to pass out into a drunken sleep.

He chuckles, drawing her in tighter. He tucks his mask back down over his jaw, but not before pressing a chaste kiss into her hair, drawing in one last greedy breath of her scent without the fabric in the way.

Rain. Sweat. Booze. Something pretending to be cherry. Cinnamon- real cinnamon.

(tag list! <3 @simpxinnie)

#ghost x reader #simon riley x ofc #simon riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader smut #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader smut

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mazeinthemiroh · 1 year

Text

hongjoong x reader, long distance relationship

genre: romance, suggestive

word count: 1k

song rec: k. by cigarettes after sex

warnings: suggestive (nothing explicit), lowercase intentional

a/n: i was inspired to write this for different reasons. one being the pic of hongjoong you can see above. and another, evidently, being this beautiful song. i especially encourage you to listen to k. by cigarettes after sex while you read this fic, because that's the song it's based on. you'll understand when you read the lyrics <3 but even the vibe of it is... yeah, beautiful. i just hope i captured that here. hope you all enjoy.

the needle threaded through the grooves of the vinyl as it spun, delicately. elegantly. the soft tones of the music whispered through the apartment like wind tickling the branches.

hongjoong looked over at the figure laying next to him. you, in all your perfectness. lying beside him, with nothing but a white sheet covering your bare skin, he being in the same condition.

he recalled yesterday's events...

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

fizzy feelings, high on memories spent with you, he remembered all these things as he waited for you at the airport. the anticipation became unbearable, and yet he stood perfectly still, his heart in his throat. eyes fixated on the landing planes, praying one of them was finally yours, he wondered if you were just as excited to see him. and when your plane landed, you bounded through the airport to come face-to-face with him.

you collided and embraced each other.

"i missed you," you whispered sensually as you grabbed onto each other for dear life. that was all you felt you could do. the closeness of your bodies alone was enough to make hongjoong desperate. leaning back, he must've looked you in the eyes, getting you to stare back into his. and oh, those eyes. you knew them so well. after all the time you've spent apart, you could still read him like a book. the longing that sparkled in his warm, passionate eyes. you knew that look all too well.

so back to his apartment you went.

it was different this time. desperate kisses and gripping and grabbing and longing and passion and fire. all done in style. all done the way it was supposed to be done. this is how making love is supposed to be. this is how the poets had written it to be. this is how the movies tried to capture it, although they never quite encapsulated the intoxicating essence of love that was so real to you both.

no strings attached, you both said. too far away from each other to develop feelings, but too attracted to each other not to act on them. that was a promise you both declared to each other. then why was it all so perfect?

and as you sat opposite each other, sitting in the restaurant like nothing insanely perfect had just occurred not an hour ago, there was something different. something had changed. he could see it in your eyes. the way they kept avoiding his, shyly, perhaps coyly. where had your previous sensual confidence gone? perhaps there was something more between you that made you second guess yourself. and when you did dare to look at him, your gaze meeting his, there was some sort of electric magic that neither of you could describe. hongjoong grinned gently to himself at this thought. perhaps he was right, after all.

"i missed you," you whispered under your breath. you said that previously that day, but it was different now. so different. the flirtatious spike from your voice had gone. it was replaced with a yearning tenderness that made his heart feel light.

"let's go back to my place" hongjoong suggested, eyes full of intense fondness. "i need to hold you again."

you felt a blush flutter on your cheeks, looking back down at your hands as you fiddled with your rings. it felt good to be wanted. but the tone in his voice made you weaker than before. he was much gentler now.

"if i do that, i might not ever leave," you breathed out a laugh, but there was a sadness that welled up in your eyes immediately. you tried to blink away the tears that started to glaze over. if you looked at him in the eyes again, you knew you would break down again.

"is that such a bad thing?"

and after promising yourself that you wouldn't look into his eyes again, your head lifted at his comment. he was serious. you could see his jaw clench; he held himself back from revealing all of his feelings. such a complicated man could never put into words what he was feeling. how could he? how could he tell you why he wanted you to stay?

"stay with me, i don't want you to leave."

it was an offer hard to say no to. and as you closed the door of hongjoong's apartment, he reached for a record. you watched his fingers gently place it on the player, lifting up the needle and sinking it down. the needle settled onto the vinyl perfectly and began to play.

as you stared at him, he came closer once again. closer, closer, and closer still. until your lips were brushing over each others, gently. eyes fixated onto his, there was a giddy smile that spread across your face.

your black clothes hung elegantly off your body as hongjoong's fingers gently worked at removing them. his lips scarcely grazed the skin of your neck, bringing forth soft sighs from your lips.

laying you tenderly on his bed, his lips caught yours once more. the song was nothing but background noise now...

~ kristen, come right back. i've been waiting for you to slip back in bed when you light the candle ~

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

now, he looks at you fondly, a smile gracing his features.

could he use the word love, now? arm over your waist, he brought your body ever so slightly closer to his. his smile deepened as he watched you sink into his arms once more.

~ and i'm kissing you lying in my room. holding you until you fall asleep...~

yes. love was the exact word. he wouldn't want to admit it before, but now he knows. you were where you should be. anywhere else other than his arms would be wrong.

~ and it's just as good as i knew it would be... ~

he just hoped you could see that too.

~ stay with me, i don't want you to leave ~

ateez taglist: @a-wandering-stay, @xlovehwa, @yeosangsbiceps, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @hawaiian-angel, @chammak-challokys, @halesandy, @chansburgah

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jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka · 13 days

Text

Part 3!! I had a good time writing this chapter as well, and it’s another doozy. Hope you enjoy!

Pairings: Jake Kiszka X Danny Wagner ***slash

Warnings and tags: 18+ only please!! Adult themes including: very brief mention of past partner death, very brief mention of marriage problems, some crying, some insecurity, my sad attempt at flirting, very slight suggestive talk, dad Jake AU, uncle Danny

Word count: 5.5k

Mondays were hard for everybody, but this particular Monday seemed to be kicking Jake in the ass.

First he spilled coffee all over his pants so he had to change after already being a little behind on getting up and getting both himself and Luna ready. That made them end up at the back of the line for drop off at the elementary.

He was speeding over to the office after getting her to school. Normally it wouldn’t matter so much if he came in a little late, but someone had the bright idea of scheduling a meeting at nine am on a Monday and he still needed to go over a few things with his team before it started.

They had a big fundraiser coming up soon that he’d spent nearly six months preparing for. One of the local orchestras had offered to put on a concert and donate the ticket sales to the foundation. The event wasn’t going to be too big, but they had managed to secure a guest singer, a couple of soloist, and even a live band to agree to play afterwards while they had drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

Jake was excited about this particular fundraiser because the sales and any extra donations were going to go to giving students private music lessons, a program he’d been working on launching for quite a while now.

Though Jake had been working for the foundation for a few years already, this was the first project he’d put so much of himself into, feeling particularly strongly about the accessibility of musical education for children as a passionate musician with a child himself.

Even after his wife’s passing, Jake’s home was still filled with music to share with his daughter. His record collection specifically ranged anywhere from dusty old vinyls he had inherited from his parents house, to mint condition collectibles and limited editions he probably never would have found without his connections. His prized possessions however, were the first pressings of his and June’s album when it first came out.

The few copies they’d kept for themselves stayed tucked safely away on the corner of the highest shelf where they sat untouched since her passing, Jake still too tender to hear her voice again. Someday though he knew Luna would want to listen to them, and he only prayed he would have himself prepared enough by then.

By the time the meeting was over Jake decided to head back out for an early lunch. With the rush to get out the door this morning he hadn’t packed anything to eat so he decided to treat himself at his favorite restaurant- a spot he didn’t frequent too often since it was in what he considered to be a sketchier part of town.

Since it was just him he didn’t mind making the drive over, at least that was until his dashboard suddenly lit up with about three different warning lights. Of course he would be having car trouble today of all days.

With an annoyed huff Jake pulled over to the side of the road, leaving his car running because he was too scared that if he turned it off now he wouldn’t be able to get it back on. Being a little unfamiliar with his surroundings he pulled out his phone and googled where the nearest service shop was, finding one simply called Rudy’s Custom Auto just up the road he’d hoped would do the trick quickly and without charging too much.

His car managed to make it to the mechanic in one piece- though the sputtering of the engine misfiring was about to give him a heart attack.

The shop was nothing more than two bays behind old garage doors with a small office attached to the side. One of the bays was already occupied by an old body truck stripped of all its paint and covered in multiple patches of bondo. Jake pulled up to the next bay and waited a moment for someone to come out.

When nobody came he braved turning off his car, gripping the keys tightly in his palm as he slowly tread into the open garage. Once he stuck his head in he saw a pair of dirty work boots on the other side of the truck, but the dated stereo system that sat on top the workbench on the far wall kept the person at work from hearing Jake arrive. Jake cleared his throat and called out above the sound of Steely Dan playing loudly, “hello? Are you open?”

“You scared the shit out of me!” The person inside answered him, then their boots started to make their way around the front of the truck.

Jake stood awkwardly at the threshold of the doorway, waiting to see what kind of character worked at a place like this, but oddly enough he felt like he’d heard their voice from somewhere.

“What can I do for you?” They asked with their back towards Jake as they paused to turn down the stereo. Finally he turned around and a huge smile spread across his face when they both realized who it was. Danny was just as shocked to see Jake here as he was, but he also looked really excited.

“You work here?” Jake asked, thinking it was a stupid question as soon as it slipped out. Of course Danny worked here, he was standing inside the shop in a pair of navy dickies covered in oil and white dust with a just as dirty white t-shirt (this one without any modifications to it) tucked into his waistband and tightly stretched across his chest and arms.

“Off and on. Rudy’s a friend of mine he lets me do some body work when I need a job”.

“Oh,” Jake looked around the shop aimlessly, mostly just trying to keep from staring at the tattoo he now knew peaked out just underneath Danny’s sleeve. “There’s umm… something wrong with my car. Could you take a look at it?”

“Well, I’m not much of a mechanic but Rudy is out on lunch right now. For you though I could do some digging around and see if I can’t at least figure out what your problem is”.

Jake knew Danny was giving him special service as he lifted the hood and bent over into the engine. He never once thought having an admirer would come with many perks, but as he stood with his arms folded loosely across his chest as Danny checked hoses and looked for leaks the frustration towards the whole situation started to wear away. By some strange stroke of fate the car he so tediously took care of, nearly never missing an oil change, happened to break down in the same neighborhood he had no idea Danny worked in.

“Hey! Don’t break it any more!” Jake hollered, stepping up next to Danny to see what all the banging around he was doing was.

“I think I might know what it is” Danny popped his head back out, startling Jake as he suddenly came face to face with the other man. Another shock came when Danny grabbed his hand and shoved it down into the engine. “Feel that?”

Jake wanted to rip his hand away, all he could feel right now was the residual heat from the parts around his forearm, his fingers blindly searching for what Danny may be talking about, and the way his chest pressed against his shoulder as they both leaned over so Jake’s shorter arm could reach. Finally he felt the warm liquid and realized the smell he got a whiff of was gasoline.

“Must have a leak in your fuel injectors” Danny backed away, letting Jake pull his own hand out and offered him a rag from his back pocket to wipe it off with. “Gonna be a bitch to get replaced. Let me call Rudy see if he has any spare parts otherwise he can pick some up on his way back”.

Jake wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, not being too familiar with the inner workings of an engine himself, but he figured he should probably start making some calls of his own starting with work. After letting them know he probably wasn’t going to make it back from lunch Danny came walking out of the shop again.

“Good news, he can get the parts and he’s on his way back. Bad news, I could only sweet talk him down to a couple hundred bucks”.

“Right! Of course that’s fine, let me just-” Jake bent over back into his front seat, bracing himself on the cushion with one arm as he searched the console for his wallet. After a few seconds of not finding it he was struck with the realization that he’d had his wallet in his pants this morning. The ones he spilt coffee all over. “Fuck” he grumbled to himself, backing out of the car to see Danny looking away quickly. Was he staring?

“Well actually, I think I left my wallet at home. This Rudy guy doesn’t take ApplePay does he?”

Danny chuckled and shook his head, “no, this is not the kind of place for that. Don’t worry I’ve got you”.

“Oh no, I couldn’t ask you to do that” Jake tried to quickly figure out how he could get the money before Rudy returned. Maybe he could call Josh to swing by his house and get his wallet, or bring some cash. Fuck how long was this going to take anyways? He might have to ask Josh to pick up Luna from school too.

While Jake’s mind was racing Danny turned around and walked back into the shop to get back to work on the sanding he was doing before Jake happened to show up.

“Let me see what my brother is up to right now, he might be able to bring me some cash. How much exactly is it?” Jake followed Danny inside this time, not paying much attention to where he was going as he pulled his phone out.

Abruptly he was stopped when Danny’s hands wrapped around his forearms and pulled him out of the way before Jake could walk into a tool box sitting in the middle of the floor. He looked around the inside of the shop now, seeing the entire place was quite a disheveled mess. Tools were everywhere between the ground and the workbench, and oil pans that looked like they’d been used one too many times were piled into the corner of the second bay. It was like navigating a minefield to get somewhere he could stand and wait.

“I said don’t worry about it” Danny replied once he had Jake situated in a safe place. “Besides there are plenty of ways you can pay me back”. Danny gave Jake a flirtatious wink from where he sat back on his rolling stool on the other side of the truck.

“Excuse me?” Jake scoffed, too astounded by Danny’s suggestive response to focus on making the phone call now.

“Yeah, like a date” Danny continued as he picked up his scrap of sandpaper and started to go over his most recent bondo covered spot.

“A date?” Jake blinked a few times, wondering if he’d heard him right since the radio was still playing quietly in the background. “You want me to take you on a date?”

“Well I was going to say let me take you on a date” Danny chuckled again, keeping his eyes focused on his work, “but if you want to take me out I’m not at all opposed to that either”.

“I- I mean- ” Jake was stumbling over his words, in utter disbelief and embarrassed by his lack of composure right now. He didn’t understand what had gotten into him.

“What? Are you not into guys or something?” Danny let his eyes flicker back over to Jake this time, catching a slight blush creep into his cheeks.

“No, that’s not it…” Jake replied sheepishly. It was true, from a young age he didn’t put much thought into sexuality or gender for that matter. He was always more attracted to the person and how deep of a connection he could make rather than just what was on the surface. Though he’d never actually dated someone of the same sex before, it was never out of the question for him.

“Then what is it?”

The sound of Danny’s sanding stopped as he waited patiently for a response. He had a suspicion he knew where Jake’s reservations were rooted from, having already heard a few details, but he hoped Jake would feel comfortable enough to tell him himself.

“Dates have been hard for me,” Jake began, fiddling with the rim of his phone case to distract himself from mentally screaming stop shut up if you tell him he will only pity you- “since my wife died a few years ago”.

“I know,” Danny replied without hesitation, making Jake realize- of course he knew, his sister was one of Jake’s closest friends, “and I’d respect your boundaries if you said it was still too soon”.

Jake leaned against the work bench behind him and let his head fall backwards, huffing a breath out through his nose, staring up at the ceiling as he thought for a moment. His eyes felt dry and prickly, but he absolutely could not tear up right now. No he’d told himself a long time ago that he was done with that.

Danny seemed to be one step ahead of him on this, already understanding what he was getting himself into when asking Jake for a date. “What if I said it wasn’t too soon?”

“Hmm?” Danny didn’t quite make out his question, either because it was being directed towards the ceiling instead of him, or maybe because Jake was actually only asking himself.

“It’s not too soon” he rephrased as he looked back over at Danny again, a little more resolve in his demeanor. “Are you free this Friday night?”

Danny’s face lit up in a smile, having thought there for a moment Jake was going to officially tell him to fuck off. “I can be”.

A cocky reply, Jake thought, smirking himself a little. “Alright then. Friday night, I’ve got an event to go to. You can come”.

“An event? For your job?” Danny questioned in return as he once again got back to work. “Doesn’t sound like much of a date to me”.

“Look, do you want to come or not?”

“No, no, I’ll be there,” he assured him quickly, “thanks for inviting me”.

It’s not really like I had much of a choice. The truth was he could have declined, could have told Danny to shove it and stormed out of the shop to wait in his car for Rudy to return. He didn’t though, and there was possibly even a part of him who was excited he’d invited Danny.

Originally he was supposed to be going with Josh, but then his brother had something come up that weekend that he couldn’t get out of. Josh’s partner booked them a little mini vacation not realizing the dates conflicted with Jake’s concert, and the hotel and airfare were nonrefundable.

Jake promised him he didn’t mind, ‘It’s just going to be a local group playing a few songs, nothing too special. You guys go have fun’. He was more anxious about it than he’d led onto Josh though. At least now he wouldn’t be going alone and he’d have something to distract him if he got too nervous- Danny being easily very distracting.

“What are you even doing? You’ve been sanding the same spot this entire time” Jake tentatively stepped a little closer until Danny waved him over.

“I may not know too much about engines, but I know a lot about the body” Danny replied with a smugish half smile that made Jake roll his eyes. “Come here, you have to get right up close to see what I’m talking about”.

Jake moved to stand next to Danny, leaning over slightly as he stared at the white blob on the fender of the truck. Danny stood up and got behind him, barely grabbing at his waist as he positioned Jake to get the right angle. Jake’s body stiffened and froze, unused to being freely touched so often without any warning.

“You see how smooth it looks?” Danny muttered behind his ear making the hairs on the back of Jake’s neck stand up. “Run your hand across it now”. Jake did as he was told and placed his palm on the cold metal, feeling a small ripple as he swiped it slowly over the surface.

“You see sometimes things look perfect from the outside, but when you get your hands on it you find tiny little flaws. I’m a perfectionist, I’ve got to get every little dent and scratch out. Sometimes that takes days of just filling and sanding it back down until I run my hand across and it’s smooth as can be”.

“Doesn’t it get annoying?” Jake asked, thinking about how long and tedious that process must be.

“I’m very patient” Danny shrugged, letting go and sitting back on his stool.

Jake couldn’t help but let his mind wander in this moment as he watched Danny from just a foot away now. He wondered what Danny might think if he ever got an up close look at him. Sure maybe from the outside he looked put together, just like this fender solid and sturdy, but once he got his hands on him he’d be able to feel all his flaws- the cuts that dug deep into his very being and had scarred over.

Only about ten minutes later Rudy returned and Danny took a break from what he was doing to help get Jake’s car back in good working order. Thankfully they were done just in time for him to get to the school and pick up his daughter without having to call in reinforcements.

“Wait, could I get your number?” Danny stopped Jake before he could drive off, hoping but also confident that their fix worked. “So we can coordinate the date?”

Jake looked over Danny’s shoulder, seeing his boss tossing more tools around, not even bothering to clean up and not paying attention to what his employee was doing- clearly harassing customers. He gave him his number anyway, finding a text presumably from Danny when he got home. Just a simple wink face emoji.

Before he could save the number in his contact list though, Luna called for his help in the kitchen and he dropped his phone off on the bar. Completely forgetting about the little message left on read.

It wasn’t until Thursday night after he’d gotten off the phone with Josh that he received another text from the unknown number.

What should I be wearing tomorrow?

10:34PM

Jake waited a moment to reply, he’d just about concluded that maybe Danny had forgotten about the ‘date’ because he hadn’t heard from him since leaving Rudy’s shop Monday afternoon. When Danny didn’t show up to Wednesday’s soccer practice either Jake was a little discouraged, but he told himself to get over it. He walked Emma home and her mom looked like she’d had a rough day so Jake didn’t bother asking about her brother's whereabouts. Should he really care anyways?

Something nice but not too formal

10:48PM

No jeans and a crop top

10:49PM

Crop top?

11:00PM

Wait, that’s my favorite shirt

11:00PM

Good to know. Don’t wear it.

11:02PM

Ok I won’t, but you remember it?

11:02PM

Jake panicked for a second as he read the text. Why did he have to bring it up? Stupid mistake.

Danny continued to text while Jake stumbled for a reply, writing something out then thinking it sounded stupid and erasing it, knowing Danny was probably watching him type.

Did Luna see the video I sent her? Of the soccer ball slime? I thought she’d like that one

11:05PM

If Jake didn’t already feel awkward about bringing up the crop top, now he felt even sillier about having thought Danny had sent that video to him. Of course it was meant for Luna.

He debated not responding, just closing the messages app on his phone and going to sleep, but he knew that would be rude- a little white lie might be better.

Yes, she liked it

11:08PM

I’m glad, sorry I wasn’t at practice this week

11:09PM

Danny didn’t offer a reason why he was absent, but at least he’d thought to apologize. Not that he had to, it’s not like Jake was hoping to see him there or anything. Again he didn’t know what to say; it was getting late Danny had to know he was probably in bed right? Before he could reply again another text came in.

I’ll let you get to sleep. I’m excited to see you tomorrow. Good night Jake

11:11PM

Good night

11:12PM

Friday was a frenzy, hustling around between the office, the venue where the orchestra and band were getting to practice with the soloists for the last time before the show, and then home to get Luna ready to stay at Emma’s house while he was out.

The air was heavy at the venue when Jake left, some issues with sound they were able to get a tech to fix, and some tiny adjustments to the breaks in the program had everyone tense and on edge. Jake knew it was just pre show nerves though and he had full faith that the night was going to go over well.

The confidence in his peers didn’t exactly extend to himself however, as he held his breath when he rang the doorbell, Luna standing at his side excitedly.

“Daddy you’re going to a party?” She asked, ever curious about what he was up to.

“I’m going to a work party” he explained to her again, having already told her she was going alone to play at Emma’s house tonight for just a couple of hours.

“Will there be presents and cake there?”

“No presents, but there might be some cake. Do you want me to save you some?”

“Me and Emma?” She asked, grabbing his hand and looking up at her Dad with a pleading smile.

“Of course, I’ll bring you both some” he returned the smile down at her until the front door opened and she bounced inside off to find her friend.

“Thank you for watching her tonight” Jake told Emma’s mom as he waited around for Danny to show. He’d text him when he was on the way, offering a ride since he was coming over anyways.

“Of course any time” she kept the door open, also aware who Jake was waiting on. The silence was a bit uncomfortable, how much did she know about them anyways? The two seemed to be close, but he worried if she thought it was a little strange her friend and her brother were going out together.

“I know someone who gives piano lessons will be there tonight. I can ask them if they have any space for Emma” Jake offered, just to fill the time.

“Oh, that would be nice. We’ve got a lot going on right now though so we might wait until next year”.

“No worries, I can just get her contact information. Has Michael been having to stay late again?” He didn’t want to pry too much, but after a couple of years of knowing them he could tell there seemed to be some new unresolved tension coming from the household.

She sighed and shook her head, obviously frustrated but biting her tongue. He realized there might be a little more to her irritation than just her husband working late, but before she could break and spill her worries Danny finally emerged from the hallway.

“Sorry for making you wait, I was ironing my shirt”.

Jake’s eyebrows shot up when he saw Danny in the doorway, the light from inside the house casting his long shadow across the porch Jake stood on. He was wearing a dark colored button up with a diamond pattern, the sleeves rolled a quarter of the way up his arms with subtle gold chains across his wrists and neck. “Is this okay?” He did a little spin, holding his arms out so Jake could get a good look at his outfit.

“Yeah it’s great. You look great” Jake cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his own shirt, glancing over to see Danny’s sister watching them with amusement in her eyes.

“Well you two have fun. Jake don’t worry about hurrying home we’ve got the kids”.

Jake nodded and Danny gave his sister a quick side hug before joining Jake on the porch. She shut the door behind him and Danny gave Jake a big eager smile.

“You look great too. I like this” he ran his thumb across the lapel of Jake’s suede coat he’d chosen for the night, already knowing it got cold at the venue they were going to. “I like these too” Danny’s fingers moved next to one of the necklaces that sat against Jake’s chest, picking up the circular charm and examining it.

“Thanks, they were a gift” Jake replied, trying to remain as still as possible and keep his breathing steady.

“Well, shall we?” Danny gently laid the pendant back down and retreated, clasping his hands behind his back like he was reminding himself to behave.

The ride over was nice. They talked about music finding out they had similar taste, Jake leaning more towards blues and Danny towards folk but both sharing a passion for the classics of old rock n roll.

When they arrived at the event Jake had plenty of people to greet and thank for being there. He worried Danny might feel out of place or get bored, but every time he glanced over to him Danny was lit up with a smile and conversing with those around him. Soon it was time to take their seats; Jake showed Danny where they would be at the back of the room, and waited by the stage for his quick speech before the concert started.

Jake held the mic tightly in his hands, not having felt that weight in his grip in years. He’d always had a bit of stage fright, but getting up in front of a crowd with June had never been less than amazing and he tuned into the memory of that feeling when he stepped in front of the audience tonight.

“First of all I’d just like to thank everyone for taking the time out of their weekend to be here with us. For those of you I don’t know, my name is Jacob Kiszka and I work for the foundation who put on this event. All of our ticket sales from tonight are going towards our new program that offers students free private music lessons. I really hope you enjoy the performance. Over the past six months I’ve been overseeing this project, I've gotten the opportunity to know some of these brilliant musical minds and promise they have some treats in store for you. Again, thank you so much for coming and after the show please feel free to check out the live band and refreshments we will have in the conference room next door”.

The crowd clapped for him as he exited the small stage and scurried off to rejoin Danny at their seats. They had the last row reserved to themselves, and with the venue not being close to full there wasn’t even anyone sitting anywhere near them.

As soon as he plopped down next to Danny the lights dimmed, getting darker where they were compared to the stage lights that focused their intensity on the musicians down below and the first song on the program began.

Jake’s focus stayed on the stage, but he felt Danny shift closer to him and whisper into his ear. “You did a good job”.

Just as easily as he’d leaned over, Danny sat back in his seat and enjoyed the performance, letting Jake do the same. Despite any hiccups they’d had earlier, the soloists were flawless, the transitions between pieces seamless, and the audience was loving every minute of it, clapping enthusiastically after each final note.

“Isn’t she amazing?” Jake asked Danny when his favorite performer finished by far the hardest song of the night, The Habanera from Carmen. It was her idea to include it in the program, and although Jake worried it might be too difficult for an intermediate orchestra, he was blown away by their hard work and dedication to the art.

“I actually can't believe I just heard that in real life” Danny’s mouth was agape, his eyes glittering with sheer delight.

Jake’s smile faded as he observed Danny watching the performance now, but it wasn’t because he was upset or anything. Quite the opposite, he was suddenly being filled with an overwhelming sense of relief and reassurance. He expected Danny might like it otherwise he wouldn’t have invited him. Even if he didn’t that would have been ok, but Danny seemed to be genuinely appreciative of his time here and that made Jake even happier he’d come.

Feeling like he was being watched, Danny looked over and made eye contact with Jake who was sitting on the edge of his seat. A shiver broke through undeather his coat when Danny’s eyes took him in next, looking him up and down through hooded lids and finally settling on his hands in his lap.

Internally Jake was screaming at himself to move, say something, do anything, but on the outside he was as calm as ever when Danny reached over and grabbed one of his hands, intertwining their fingers together and giving it a squeeze. Jake let out a shaky breath as his eyes fell to his lap, hoping Danny could not feel his heart pounding in his wrist.

“Jake…” Danny muttered his name in the dark, swiping his thumb over the back of Jake’s hand making him look back up again, only he didn’t look him in the eye this time. Jake found himself staring at Danny’s lips, hoping he’d be the braver of the two again.

Before either of them could make the next move though their moment was cut short when Jake heard someone else start speaking over the microphone.

“This last piece was not included on the programs, it is a special thanks to our Director Jake for all the hard work he’s put in. We hope you’ve all had a great night and be safe”.

Jake snapped his head back towards the stage, shocked and completely unaware of this secret addition to the performance. He gripped Danny’s hand tighter when the song began to play and he instantly recognized it as a rendition of one of his own.

The singer started in after the acoustic guitar opening, and Jake was taken aback when he heard his late wife's lyrics bleeding through the speakers for the first time in over three years.

He could feel the sting but he didn’t even register the tears rolling down his cheeks until Danny sat forward as well. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” he felt his voice crack, his face and chest burning hot as he shook his hand free from Danny’s and excused himself.

Jake went out into the hallway to collect himself, furiously wiping at his cheeks until they were rubbed red and drying his palms on his pants. Thankfully he was alone, until he heard the sound of the door behind him allowing someone else out.

“I’m sorry, that just caught me off guard” Jake’s knee jerk reaction was to apologize, suck it up, and walk back in with his head held high. All of that flew out the window though when Danny silently came from behind him and wrapped his arms around Jake’s shoulders, pulling his back against his chest and resting his chin on the top of Jake’s head.

More tears began to pool along his lash line when Jake reciprocated the touch by wrapping his hands around Danny’s forearms and pulling them tighter around his shaking frame.

“Don’t apologize. You’re allowed to feel every emotion coming to you right now” Danny muttered behind him.

Jake shook his head and nuzzled his face into the forearms folded across his chest, waiting for the moment to pass before he popped his head back up and inhaled sharply.

“Ok, I’m going to go to the restroom. People will be coming out soon. Will you wait for me in the conference room?”

“Yeah, I can do that”. Danny released his hold and took a few steps back to give Jake some space now. Though as he watched Jake cover his mouth with the back of his hand and walk away, he wished he’d let him follow.

Tags: @lyndz2names @gracev0609 @lipstickitty @sanguinebats @kultavalo

A/N: So there really is a program called Austin Soundwaves that does offer free private music lessons for children in that area. I was able to go to one of their concerts and the performer really did start belting Carmen, it was awesome. Support your local musicians 👏

#greta van fic #greta van fleet #danny wagner #jake kiszka #janny gvf

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

Text

Boy For All Seasons

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 Ao3

By the time the first snow began to fall upon Hawkins Eddie knew he was falling in love with one Steve Harrington. Most nights the boys shared a bed feigning exhaustion or cold weather as an excuse to be close to each other. Eddie was weak to Steve's wishes and selfishly wanted to keep the younger boy in his orbit for as long as possible.

Christmas break had just started and Eddie was helping Steve hang up lights on the roof of Family Video.

"Ya know Stevie, usually when I help you with work it's to steal corporate America's heating system not freeze my balls off."

"I told you to wear I sweater when we left this morning."

Eddie's cheeks flushed and it wasn't from the cold, he mumbled a response.

"What was that?" Steve asked as he climbed back down and they headed inside.

"I said you're wearing my only sweater." Eddie was at least feeling warm now under Steve's gaze.

"Eds why didn't you say something, I could've survived!"

"I didn't want you to get cold, besides you look cute in my clothes."

Steve smiled softly, "Oh yeah? Trying to get me all dressed up a metalhead Munson?"

Eddie leaned in, a smirk dancing over his face, "Well you would look pretty h-."

"Oi! Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee! A little help would be nice!" Robin called, startling the boys apart.

"Sorry Robs."

"We helped with the lights little Birdie!"

"Mhm, Steve did the lights, you enjoyed the show, Munson," Robin muttered under her breath. It hadn't been long ago that the two had done the questioning gaze at each other revealing they had more in common than they thought. It made Eddie happy that it was unlikely Steve would punch him if he found out but even with all the flirting Eddie wasn't willing to risk it.

"What time are we supposed to be there on Tuesday, Steve-o?"

"Five, 'cause you know the kids are gonna want presents before dinner. Is Nance still picking you up?"

"Yeah she said she's got room, Joyce says she's gonna borrow Ms. Sinclair's car while they're here so she's got the rest of the kids handled."

Steve smiled and continued stacking the shelves.

"You guys having a little Christmas Eve party with the sheepies?" Eddie asked trying not to feel a little hurt that he'd been excluded.

"Hm? Oh shit! Eddie yeah everyone's coming over that day, you should bring Wayne too if he's not working."

"Dingus, did you forget to invite him?"

"Maybe," Steve said sheepishly, "In my defense, I assumed we'd be hanging out that day anyway."

Something warm bloomed in Eddie's chest at the assumption, at the inference that Steve would want to be around Eddie all the time.

"Wayne's working sadly, but you're right, we should probs sleep at yours Tuesday then so you have time to get everything set up." If Eddie hadn't been hiding his own blush behind his hair, he may have caught the light dusting across Steve's cheek at the word "we".

It wasn't long before Christmas Eve had rolled around. The Harrington house looked warmer when it was bathed in soft yellow Christmas lights. Steve had spent all day moving around the kitchen getting the feast ready, Eddie a dutiful taster and switcher of vinyls.

Before long the doorbell rang and a stampede of noise and laughter filled the home. Steve had been correct, the kids wanted to do presents first, and a mess of wrapping paper and cheers flowed through the living room. Eddie in typical Eddie fashion had dressed up as Santa Claus and helped pass around the gifts.

"This is for you, Eds," Steve said shyly passing a small gift to Eddie.

"Thanks, sweetheart." Eddie unwrapped the gift to find a chain with a black and red guitar pick attached.

"You've got so many rings, thought you needed something a little different, plus it matches your guitar."

"It's awesome, thank you, Stevie." Before Eddie could stop his own actions he'd leaned into Steve's space and pecked his cheek.

Steve immediately flushed, his hand reaching up to softly touch his cheek before standing quickly and telling the group that it was time for dinner. Briefly, Eddie thought he'd ruined everything but at the table, Steve still smiled and sat beside him.

Later, when everyone else had been taken home leaving Eddie and Steve warm and safe in Steve's bed Eddie thought about mentioning it. He thought about mentioning everything, all the flirting, the jokes, the costumes, the smiles, the stares, the fact that they slept together almost every night. But he didn't, instead, he whispered softly as they both softly drifted to sleep.

"Merry Christmas, Stevie."

"Merry Christmas, Eds."

Tags: @zerokrox-blog @smallfrogpleasedtomeetyou @eboyawstenn @sharingisntkaren @goodolefashionedloverboi @the-redthread @steddie-there @questionablequeeries @liorereshkigal @mightbeasleep @carlyv @my2amgaythoughts @gregre369 @space-invading-pigeon @bisexualdisastersworld @epiclazershark @sherrylyn628 @raisedbylibrarians @swaghettoni

#merry christmas #sorry this update took a quick sec uni has been hectic #only two more parts to go!#christmas #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fluff #there may be angst next chapter tho....

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moirtre · 3 months

Text

‎ ‎ ⋆⠀⠀&.⠀⠀٬⠀⠀❝ 2 : 33 AM : EVERGREEN. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

one day, i will stop falling in love with you. some day, someone will like me like i like you. until then, i'll drink my coffee, eat my pie, pretend that we are more than friends. then, of course i'll let you break my heart again.⠀–— from, “Let You Break My Heart Again - Laufey & Philharmonia Orchestra”

&.⠀⠀CHARACTERS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀NAIRA CHRISTIANSEN, CARTER KIM. &.⠀⠀WORD COUNT⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀2.7K &.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀suggestive content, manipulation. &.⠀⠀NOTES⠀⠀┉⠀⠀*⠀apologizing in advance. it's not heavy but it approaches being heavy. carter (derogatory) can be found at @genav0s. naira's (unfortunately) a little dumb in this one but i really can't blame her! not proofread bc i never proofread anything <3 takes place in 2019 when both of them had way too much time on their hands.

Naira feels the buzz of her phone before she can process its awakening by her side.

Her hands, covered in the gray mush that rests on her wheel, scramble to grab onto the towel that lies discarded beneath the carefully sectioned block wrapped up in plastic. The mush splatters onto her cotton overalls as the wheel comes to a halt. The music playing in her ears mimics the wheel, ceasing to play as her ringtone fills her ears through the white headphones attached to the jack of her phone.

She huffs in frustration as the towel sticks to her hands. Pressing against the material, she silently prays she can free up a few fingers before the call disappears.

It’s 2am in Seoul, midnight in Bangkok.

“Must be important,” is what she tries to rationalize in her mind as she continues the scramble.

The ringing ends before she can put the towel down. With a low curse under her breath, she relents to cleaning her other hand. Before she can pick up the phone, it buzzes with a notification.

thought i was special :(

A scoff leaves her lips, her hands clamoring to answer the melodramatic man on the other end of the text.

it’s 2am carter

She responds, fighting off a smile that pulls at her cheeks and warms her skin.

The late-night texts from the Canadian were nothing new between the pair. In the month or so since the two had begun whatever this was, Naira had found herself in conversation—or in his sheets—more times than she would readily admit to the other members of their respective groups. A part of her found it a bit embarrassing; how easily he could draw her in with his empty words and blistering kisses. But they were good together. So good she’d forget her name and giggle a bit too loud at his half-assed flirtations.

It takes a simple, come over, for Naira to pull herself away from her wheel. She smiles a bit too widely and moves a bit too quickly. With a glance towards her reflection in the mirror adorning the left side of her entryway, she grabs her keys with one hand while fluffing her hair with the other.

He doesn’t try to text her again as she makes the drive from her apartment to his penthouse on the west side of the city. Naira’s not sure she would even notice a text coming from him with the way her imagination runs wild. The embarrassment of the situation is lost on her. She can’t bring herself to worry about the chances of getting caught when she can practically feel the warmth of his body and the drawl in his voice pulling her in gently.

Her hands shake in anticipation as she twists the key—one he’d taken her to get a copy of last week. His foyer is dark, devoid of both light and life. He had just moved in the day before she had gotten her copy of his key. She remembers the box tossed to the side of his couch; the same box she had tripped over as she lied to Sanghyuk and Romeo about her presence in the kitchen that early morning.

The fading smell of cigarettes draws her to his room where he stands over his record player. His favorite ashtray sits on the small nightstand next to the wall of vinyl she had organized for him—by genre and artist—the last night she was here.

“What am I doing here?”

Naira rubs at her face. The cold from the blistering wind battered at her nose, chapping her lips during her walk from the parking garage to his door.

Her accent blends familiarly into the consonants. The English leaves her lips with the subtlest twang of uncertainty; though she’s fairly sure he senses it from the way he smiles graciously.

They always spoke in English. Carter never cared enough to pretend to learn Thai for her. She had asked him about it once during one of their early encounters on a company trip to Tokyo back in September. He had looked away from her naked face as he told her that he felt safe around her—vulnerable might have been the word he used back then.

Naira wasn’t quite sure she bought it then. But she couldn’t think much about it after the words left his mouth. And how could she? Not when his chest was so warm underneath her blossoming cheek. Not when his hands wandered slowly beneath the covers shielding her bare chest. Her mind let go of the thought just as quickly as she perceived it.

She never asked him again.

Carter barely spares her a glance before motioning her over to his side. Sensing her wariness of the lit cigarette resting in the ashtray, Carter chuckles, taking a slow drag before stubbing out the flame in the tray it once lay in. With a release of her shoulders, Naira carefully crawls into the mess of his sheets, perching herself against the headboard to watch as his tanned hands skim over his collection of records.

“What are you doing here?”

He laughs at her question.

It was one of the things that annoyed her about him. Everything seemed to be a joke to Carter Kim. That distinct, perfect laugh he always managed to release made her feel smaller than she already was by his side. He’d throw his head back. His perfectly browned, floppy hair mirrored his movements; falling back, perfectly, over his face once he was done. She’d get caught up in the shine of his perfect teeth—another thing that annoyed her about him.

Carter Kim was always perfect.

“I can’t answer that for you, hon.”

Hon. It was embarrassing the way she sucked in a breath at the release of the pet name he had chosen for her. If Carter noticed, he never said a word, continuing on in that perfect Canadian drawl he added to the ends of his sentences.

“I called, you didn’t pick up. I asked you to come over, and you did. Don’t know why.”

She rolls her eyes playfully at that, leaning up to shove at his shoulder.

“You know why.” She mutters slowly.

Her hand caught in Carter’s as he continued to skim his collection. With a tug, she’s pushing herself off his bed and onto her feet. He guides her hands to the player. Having finally picked an album to play, her fingers nudge the play button at his will. French Exit’s opening track soothes out of the player so low Naira strains to recognize it.

With a turn, Carter finally faces her. A shared glance is all it takes before her hands are on her waist—hers crawling from his shoulders to the nape of his neck—and his lips are on hers. In what feels like forever, Naira lets go of any clever quips loaded to bite back at the Libra.

“I knew it,”—he’s deliciously breathless between kisses—“you’re obsessed with me.”

Naira groans into his mouth, pulling away to shake her head. He’s pulling her wrist to his lips before she can think of any words to say.

That was simply all it took for her to lose herself in him. That was what it always took. A tug of her waist, a caress of her neck, the sweeping off of her feet.

Naira was aware of the absence of rationality every time she let him draw her in like this. She was aware of the way he tugged at her boundaries, pushing them a bit farther every time he summoned her with a text. She was aware that she knew next to nothing about him—instead, he would distract her from any personal details the same way he lured her to his bed in the first place. She had known all these things, but all of a sudden she was aware.

He bites at her neck—something he never did—and it rouses her out of her Carter-induced haze. With a jump, she pulls away from him, suddenly too aware of all the things she knew before. All the things she chose to ignore. His eyebrows furrow as the record changes to the next song. The silence between the two of them cut away at any notes lifting from the player. Their eyes catch in a deadlock, Carter’s firm hands unmoving from their place underneath her shirt, her own pulling into a fist from their place on his chest.

“I’m obsessed with you.” She whispers. The edge of her lip twinges in realization, and his eyes remain fixed on hers. Unrelenting and emotionless.

“Hon,” he sighs, finally breaking eye contact. His arms bring her in closer as he tries to distract her once more, “Is that supposed to be a bad thing?”

He laughs again. Naira grits her teeth, turning her head away from him.

“Yes, Carter.” She snaps. If he was taken by surprise at her outburst, he doesn’t let on to it.

“I’m obsessed with you and that’s a fucking problem.”

His eyebrows raise as his hands loosen their hold on her body. Naira frees herself from his grip, suddenly feeling uneasy in his presence. Her anxious pacing does nothing to tick Carter off. Instead, his eyes slowly track her movement away from his side to the other side of his room.

“Why are you doing this?” Carter groans, his hands resting on his hips. Eyes continuing to track Naira’s pacing figure.

“Because you…” Her words fail her with a groan. She can feel the words on the tip of her tongue but they don’t connect to her brain. And it frustrates her.

“Because I what, Naira?” His voice rings out once again, this time much harsher. She makes contact with his eyes through the mirror laid out in front of her. She can just make out the furrowing of his eyebrows and the irritation set in his hardened jaw.

“Because you’re not obsessed with me.”

The words connect with her brain in Korean.

The switch visibly knocks Carter off of his chilly pedestal, the shock marked in his face striking Naira. She—admittedly—had never conceived Carter could process any other emotions beyond being smug and just okay. The shock held a bit of fear she could not begin to recognize amongst his features. It was odd how quickly it all happened. How quickly he became an entirely different person altogether. How quickly she could knock him off balance and a version of himself she was sure not many people could get to.

“I don’t understand,” He resorts to English once more. Though Naira understands what he truly means, she refuses to meet him there. With a shake of her head she mutters, “Of course not.”

His arms cross over his chest, guarding himself from Naira’s words. The pensive anxiety in his eyes brings Naira to turn to face him. He refuses to meet her eyes.

“You know, there’s only a few things the girls can all agree about recently.” She trails off, drawing herself closer to his guarded figure. “And I should’ve listened closer when they said you were a problem.”

Stoic as ever, Carter takes one step closer to Naira, towering over her as he does so. His eyes held a darkness she had never seen in him before, different from the general emptiness they usually held whenever they met up on their late nights.

“How am I the problem, hon?” He hums, his hands reaching out to brush the hair away from her face. Pulling her hair into a makeshift ponytail held in the fist of his hand, he tugs her closer to him; her legs following the yanking of her body.

With a whine, Naira shuts her eyes.

“Can you tell me? Why am I the problem?” His voice is impossibly deep, oozing with both venom and lust in a way that shakes Naira out of her anger and back into that trance. “What happened, hon? You were so worked up a minute ago. Telling me that I’m the problem.”

Naira sucks in a deep breath, attempting to hold on to the last amount of autonomy she can muster. It’s all too much. His voice and the way it surrounds her. It swirls in her mind, envelops all of her thoughts, and chases them off leaving nothing but him. She can smell the mint and nicotine on his breath. A smell she had come to associate with the late nights in his sheets, covered only by the thin silk and his warm hands.

Then his lips are everywhere. Attaching themselves to her clavicle, his body bending down to meet her height. His hair tickling at her skin, his familiar clean shampoo flooding her senses. Trailing up her neck with his hands holding her to him in their impossibly tight grip. Undoubtedly, leaving a slow trail marking where he’d been along her side. Then they press against her jaw, drawing what little will she has left.

“How could I be the problem, hon?” He hums against her skin. “I’m spoiled by you. You’ve ruined me for anyone else.” Her breath escapes her as he speaks against her lips. Low and controlled, steady in a way she could never begin to pull herself away from.

“All I can do is live and breathe you. Only you.”

His hands move again. Falling away from her hair as if offering her release. When she doesn’t take the opportunity, they pull her body closer to his. Those wandering hands traveling down her arms and bringing them under his control. They pull hers to their familiar place on his chest. He’s a furnace, burning at her hands but so inviting she falls into line with him.

“I couldn’t let you go if I tried, hon. I’m yours.” His face cradles itself into her neck, his whispers slowly crawling into her ears.

“I’m yours.”

Carefully controlled desperation leaks into his tone, furrowing Naira’s eyebrows as she fights against her better interests. Sure that he’s sensed this, her hands ball into fists once more, pressing against his chest as if begging for her release from the hold he’s captivated her into.

“Relax for me, hon.” He soothes, all too familiar to her ears. “Open those eyes for me, pretty girl.” His words pull at her will, ripping her away from her judgment and leaving her waiting for his next words.

As if in control of her reflexes, her eyes pry themselves open, receiving the sight of his own gazing intently into hers. It’s all too much for her; his voice, his commands, his heat, his presence. It consumes her control over her own body and it relinquishes its autonomy to him without much of a fight. Her hands relax from their bounding tightness, her voice loses its edge, and tears begin to flow from her eyes. It’s all too much for her.

“There’s my girl,” Carter hums. His forehead presses to hers, a hand lifting her chin to keep her eyes on his.

“I can’t be the problem. Not when I make you feel this good.”

All sirenic, his voice seeps into her psyche, pulling her out of her own body and leaving her defenseless. Then his lips are on hers and everything melts away. All her anger, all her control, all her confusion. Left in its place is a yearning for his touch, a desperation for his kiss.

Effortlessly, he carries her to his bed. Laying her down as he hovers over her.

She can barely breathe as he pulls at her shirt. Her mind carried away in a sea of loss. All she can think and feel and do is him. It leaves her in a daze that disconnects her mind from her words. And despite it all, she can’t push him away.

She can’t bring herself to let him go.

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dagwolf · 1 month

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From Reverberation Vinyl on Facebook:

I'm a "record store day indifferent" type of shop. I don't carry the sort of things that people line up for, and the things I do stock that are attached to rsd are all items you'd find here on the average Wednesday. I don't hold it against anyone, takes all kinds, etc. But I am asked frequently around this time of year why I don't really care for rsd, and while I certainly have stock answers on hand, they usually come off as annoyed or negative, rather than thoughtful and well reasoned. So, short of going door to door & handing out tri-fold pamphlets, here's Ralphie's theme...

Why RSD Is Bad For Records & Record Stores by John Anderson

The "Record Store", as positioned in our culture in 2024, is (or was) a reflection of the mythical independents of the '90s & '00s, places that thrived outside both the interest in, or support from, the record industry. Truly independent stores that were usually small, primarily used, at times meeting places for music people, social hubs for weirdos, discovery zones & more. The reality was far more nuaced, but growing up in the record stores of my youth, I eventually sorted out the differences between chain stores, used shops, big label music, used selling/buying, etc, and the sense of REAL that permeated the independent shops of the world. The person/people behind these places were often big, weird personalities, but they were also the driving force behind what lay on the shelves. New horror soundtrack imports from Italy? Brand new garage rock from PNW hotspots? Skranky dub compilations for under ten bucks? Bootlegs? YES. All things that were specific to the shops, sometimes exclusive, but always reflective of what & who the place WAS. Recreating that to the best of my honest ability has always been my goal here. If its a new record in the racks or on the wall, its likely here because a) I love it, b) I own one too, and c) I'd like to share it with you. Short version: this store is a deeply personal statement. That has always been my focus and always shall be. In the words of the great Andrew Weatherall, "Music's not for everyone".

That's the mystical/romantic part. I have practical reasons as well!

1) As stated above, record stores (vinyl) thrived & grew to what we know now with ZERO interest from the record industry, when it was at its absolute $height$. As "record store culture" became more popular & increasingly commodified, the industry used rsd as a trojan horse to seize the means & the narrative back from the very people who kept it going while they - the industry - were gouging people on CDs & fumbling a cogent approach to digital music.

2) rsd stock is expensive, for us & you. Usually 25% more than your standard releases. Why? Good question.

3) rsd stock is unreturnable for shops. As a store, what you order, you're stuck with. Huge stores don't seem to mind, as you'll see bin after bin of rsd leftovers going back 5+ years, more in some cases.

4) The Disappointment Factor. When "one band fans" & newer collectors have been conditioned to seek out "the one thing", there's inevitable disappointment when smaller stores get tiny allocations of records people seem willing to fight over. That disappointment usually ends up directed at the people/place, meaning yours truly, something I want no part of.

5) Manufactured Scarcity. Undershooting demand by a few thousand units as a marketing strategy sounds fun to someone... not sure who though. Driving a rabid wave of buyers (say 500,000) into a physical marketplace that's more likely to NOT have what they want (say 10,000 copies)? Nope. Which leads to...

6) Unrealistic Manufacturing Capabililty. With seemingly every popular (read: really common) record of the last 50 years being repressed in 18 colors to satiate insane demand (a particularly impatient, Amazon era, "want it NOW" demand), not to mention the same approach to new LPs by many (Billie Eilish called this out recently), the industry is basically pretending this is the early '80s when massive, industry-wide manufacturing infrastructure meant they could turn big orders around in days rather than months. Trouble is, this isn't the '80s. The big industry titans dumped their pressing facilities & hardware at the dawn of the '90s. Now, demand greatly exceeds manufacturing capabilities, and while there have been new pressing plants opening (and thriving) in recent times, these aren't owned & operated by Warner or Universal: these are the indie operations that kept vinyl alive in the '90s & '00s, and now the big label business they can't turn down means slower turnaround for all the labels & artists that aren't major/indie property. AKA all the artists who ordered records from them for the previous 20+ years. Which leads too...

7) Astronomical Pricing. Yes, rsd pricing is "a quarter above the vig". Cost of doing business in that world, I guess. If it sounds like the mafia, it is, because rsd is 100% "big record industry" controlled in 2024, regardless of early intent. Unsurprisingly, the cost of new records across the board has seen an insane surge, with little mind paid to the audience, whether that be boomer age dudes who can afford $80 Neil Young records & $900 box sets, or high school/college kids, who are expected to drop $40 for a new LP. Regardless of the public face they put on it, the industry still sees "this", meaning records, as a trend that will at least partially fade off. Hence their lack of interest in committing to better & more sustainable pressing & manufacturing. No plants or presses, but the money will be fine for now, thanks.

8) Flipper Culture. I say this knowing full well there's no way to put this element back in the box, but your ebay/discogs flippers are the boogeyman that its easiest to put a face to. Not much nuance necessary, they just want as many copies of of whatever "hot" rsd release is fetching the most $$ online. We've all had to hit the secondary market to find some "limited" record we missed. Being forced to do it on rsd because 2000 dirtdicks who stood in a line all night & bought up 2/3 of the existing copies of the record by your daughter's favorite artist? At 10x list price? Oh, okay.

9) The Generally Punishing Nature Of Having To Stand In Line For Something You May Not Actually Get. If there's a group of folks out there who love standing in lines, I mean no offense, but come on now. I'd guess that most bands/artists probably aren't aware of what goes on around rsd, or I'd like to think they'd decline involvement, because who wants to punish their fans like that?

I could go on & on but... The record scene has changed a lot since I opened up, particularly in the last 7-8 years. For the better? I kinda doubt it, but we shall see... I've been carping out these warnings since 2011, and there isn't much I can do about it, aside from running my little shop in the manner I see fit. I don't begrudge anyone what they're into, and while my place is as personal as it gets, I don't take these weird record store times personally. I hope anyone who reads this understands that like my store, it comes from a place of love, with all the passion & care that encompasses. In the end, this should be fun... I've had some incredible discoveries, comraderies & experiences in records stores, and that I wish for everyone.

(link)

#record store day

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