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upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months

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Simmer #3

CH.3 Sunny Side Up | The Menu [4.3K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Talking to Eddie became a little easier after that night. Just a little. You greeted each other on morning shifts with tired nods, maybe a small ‘hi’ from you, a grunt from him that you’d learned not to take offence to. You’d watched time and time again as Jonathan brought his coffee to the kitchen, handing Eddie a mocha full of chocolate syrup and the boy received another grunt in thanks too.

The diner became more familiar, as did your colleagues and it made your heart ache a little when you realised you melted into their routines, their little world as easily as they did with each other. Steve knew your favourite song, liked to turn it up when it came on the radio, pointing at you with enough fanfare to make you flush when he sang the lyrics into the end of a wooden spoon.

Robin had invited you to hers, an unofficial girls night after a Sunday late shift that became a habit without meaning to. You shared her apartment space the way she shared yours, leftover pyjama shirts in each other's drawers, rented movies swapped between television sets. And at times, when she was home from college, Nancy would join you both, curled on the loveseat with Robin as they listened to your horror stories from Chicago.

Argyle would offer you rides to work, always passing you on the days you missed the bus, pulling over his brightly painted van with a lazy grin and a yell of “jump in my ‘lil Chicago pizza.”

It was easy, comfortable, a slow kind of life that you craved in the city, the long days and quiet nights that you were more suited to. Hawkins was far from the white picket fence dream, but you loved your little apartment with its view of the cornfields, the long road out of town that you knew took you to work. And when the bus stopped on Sundays and you walked to the diner, you’d pass that old garage the same way you did on your first day in town and wave to Wayne.

It was easy. It was simple.

That Tuesday, you clocked in early after swapping a shift with Nancy, the heat rolling into the side door with you as the sun rose. It was the earliest you’d started and the diner was still quiet, a lack of customers between the midnight hours that the truckers frequented and the breakfast rush. The radio was up louder than usual, the smell of fresh bread coming from the ovens, a huge bowl of batter on the counter beside some chopped strawberries, glittering with sugar.

“Hey! Hey what's the matter with you, feel right? Don't you feel right, baby?”

You could see Jonathan in the front of the diner, setting clean tables with new cutlery, Argyle trailing behind him - not necessarily helping, but definitely talking animatedly about something. Jim was in his office, groaning over receipts and copies of everyone’s vacation requests, two empty mugs of coffee in front of him. You weren’t sure where Ed—

“Jesus, watch it!”

You gasped on instinct as someone collided with your shoulder, a dull pain that wasn’t all that sore but scared you nonetheless. Eddie was glaring at you, holding a hot tray of morning rolls aloft with a dish towel.

“I could’ve fucking burnt you,” he snapped, setting them down on his station with a clatter.

You winced, an apology on your tongue, already tasting sour. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I didn’t hear you say corner, or, or door or—”

You watched as Eddie’s frown disappeared momentarily, a soft drop of his expression that made you realise at the same time he did, that he didn’t give any of those warnings at all. You thought he’d apologise then, maybe back track with a rare smile but instead his scowl deepened and he set about pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

“Stumbling ‘round like a baby deer, man,” Eddie huffed, his voice low, like you maybe weren’t meant to hear. But you did. “Gonna end up seriously hurtin’ yourself— or someone else. Not supposed to be in the damn kitchen, told you you weren’t made out f—”

Tears burned the corners of your eyes at the first sign of conflict but your heart pounded and you let yourself get wound up. You squared your shoulders, sucked in a breath and let the sting of your eyes and the lump in your throat fuel you. “Hey!” You snapped, only sounding a little watery, a little soft. “It wasn’t— it wasn’t my fault. You’re supposed to tell someone you’re coming if you’re holding something.” You blew out a breath, acutely aware of how Eddie was watching you with raised brows. “Especially something hot. And I don’t stumble.”

You glared right back at the boy, hoping you looked as intimidating as he did, throwing your hands on your hips for good measure until you felt too much like your mom and dropped them back by your side. You squirmed in the silence, pulling self-consciously at the hem of your uniform dress, still trying to keep your lips in an annoyed flat line, your brows as turned down as Eddie’s. Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes, throwing a pound of butter into a huge mixing bowl. It made the station shake with a thud and he turned his back to you before he spoke, shoulders stiff, a tattoo that curled up from his back to the nape of his neck just visible for the way he’d pulled his curl up in a bun.

“Why are you always in such a bad mood? Huh? And I’m allowed in the kitchen,” you added, hating that you sounded haughty, but fuck this boy and his attitude problem. The hot and cold act was starting to wear thin. “I work here too.”

He turned then, the sleeves of his chef whites rolled up to his elbows, ropes of muscle and lines of ink curling around his forearms. His fingers were covered in butter and sugar, and when he took a few steps closer, brows raised at you in a challenge, he smelled like cinnamon. “That right, sweetheart?”

You didn’t back down, even though your stomach flipped. You lifted your chin higher, tried to give it back to him as good as he gave it out. “You think I come here for the good of my health?” You wanted to bite, you wanted to sink your teeth in and draw blood. You wanted to hurt. The taste of honey on fresh sourdough lingered on your tongue. “I heard the food is shit.”

Eddie’s nostrils flared at your childish barb, but as immature as it was, the boy gritted his teeth and stormed back to the work station. The bowls clattered against each, steel on steel and the spatula he’d been using got launched into the empty sink.

“Just stay out my way,” Eddie grunted.

The sharpness of his words made your throat tight, face scrunching unhappily because what had you ever done to him? You decided not to answer, pressing your lips together instead and hoping Eddie didn’t see your watery eyes when you stalked past his table. You ducked into the office, slamming your locker door as you shoved your bag inside, shouldering into Steve by accident on the way back out.

“Oh, sorry— hey, hey,” Steve frowned, catching sight of your face. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer, just smiling and shrugging him off, already pulling out your pad and pen from the front of your apron, as if the quiet diner was suddenly full of people who were desperate for their orders to be taken. You didn’t look at Eddie as you left, disappearing between the table and booths, hoping for something to clean until a table filled up.

You didn’t see it, you didn’t hear it, but Steve walked to Eddie’s station with a scowl that matched the other boy’s and stole the spoon that was in his hand.

“Hey!” Eddie’s head shot up, eyes narrowed, ready for a fight. “Give me th—”

“Stop being a dick,” Steve scolded, holding the spoon over his head when Eddie tried to grab it across the bench. “You’re being an ass, man. And for what?”

Eddie glared, reaching for the stolen utensil and swearing when Steve rapped the back of his knuckles with it. “What’re you even talkin’ about?”

Steve scoffed, “don’t act dumb, Munson, it isn’t cute. What have you got against the new girl?”

Eddie didn’t answer, giving up and crossing the kitchen to rake through a drawer for another spoon instead. He stalked to the refrigerator too, still scowling, piling more ingredients in his arms as he went. He walked back to Steve with eggs and fruit, jars of spices that were all different colours. Steve was still standing, shirt sleeves rolled up, his name badge on upside down.

“Well?”

“Steve, just—” Eddie let out a huff and set a pan on the stovetop, flicking on the switches until a blue flame appeared. It bloomed into red, orange and Eddie spooned some butter into the pan. “I don’t have anything against her.” His cheeks were hot, he could feel it. A pink flush that went across his nose and attacked the tips of his ears. He cracked an egg too vigorously, shell in the yolk, making it burst. He swore.

“No?” Steve didn’t look convinced. He handed Eddie back his spoon. “Doing your damn best to convince her otherwise. Poor kid looked like she was about to cry.”

Eddie’s eyes shuttered closed at that, guilt gnawing a hole in his chest. He cracked another egg, watched it turn white over the heat. He really wanted a cigarette.

The bell for the diner door rang, signalling the arrival of customers, a bleary eyed bunch of business men that looked like they were from out of town. Their suits were too sharp, close shaven beards and briefcases making them look like sore thumbs against the garish decor and sticky booth seats. Both boy’s watched you approach their table, smiling sweetly and nodding shyly as you scribbled down their orders. When you turned to head to the hatch, a piece of paper ready to be slapped onto the stainless steel bar, Eddie watched as the men eyed your behind, appreciative faces and shared whispers about the way your legs looked in your dress.

He cracked another egg, eyes narrowed, chest tighter than before.

“Say sorry,” Steve finalised the conversation with a friendly slap to Eddie’s shoulder as he passed him. You were only a few tables away, head ducked down, eyes hidden as you approached. Steve looked serious as he said, “fix it.”

—————

By the time the clock hit eleven am, Jonathan was coaxing you into going for your break, handing your orders to Steve as he cleared the table your customers just left. He waved away your protests, voice quiet and soft as he handed you the dollar notes that were left for you beside a ketchup stain.

“I’ve got it,” he tsked. “Go on, go get some food or somethin’.”

So you smiled and pulled off your apron as you headed through the back, already sipping on a glass of lemon water you’d poured yourself at the bar. You could hear Steve greet a family at the front door, all charm and sweetness, and the radio in the kitchen was still playing. Breakfast was almost over but the place still smelled sweet, syrup and cinnamon, cooked pancakes and fresh bread, maple bacon that the diners always ordered an extra plate of.

Argyle was at the sink, washing a pot and he smiled as you walked across the tiles. “Wassup Chicago town?” There were bubbles on his arms, a walkman clipped to the waistband of his chef whites and headphones around his neck. “You lookin’ for Eddie?”

You frowned without meaning to, wondering if you could get away with pinching some leftover breakfast without anyone realising. Jim didn’t mind, but Eddie was way too particular with his leftovers.

“Uh, no,” you answered. “Should I be?”

“Think he was lookin’ for you.”

You didn’t get to ask anymore questions, or even laugh at the idea of the chef seeking you out, because Eddie was coming back out from the pantry with a new bag of sugar. His eyes flitted to you as he walked to his bench, cheeks a little pink and he sprinkled some of it over a bowl of chopped fruit before he said anything. He nodded to the stool he made you sit on the other day, the one at his station and it was only then you noticed there was a plate sitting.

Two perfectly cooked eggs, sunny side up with a huge slice of orange that was arranged like a smile. There was a single blueberry in the middle of the plate, plucked from the bowl that Eddie placed beside it, finishing off the smiley faced breakfast.

“You hungry?” Eddie murmured, his voice softer than it had been when you last ran into him. He kept his head bent, curls framing his brown eyes, lips twisted. “You didn’t have breakfast.”

“Wh—?” Your lips parted, your apron still fisted in your hand and you rounded the station slowly, eyes on the boy like you were waiting for the joke to land.

Eddie’s gaze shot from you to the stool and he tilted his chin once more. “Sit.” His demand wasn’t bossy, despite the bluntness. His voice was so much more gentle than you’d heard it before. The frown was still there, the stitch between his brows but his eyes looked softer, honeyed caramel, brown sugar, the stickiest kind of toffee. “Gonna get cold.”

So you sat, looking behind you to glance at Argyle, wondering if this was strange enough for him to take notice too. Sure enough, the boy had stopped scrubbing, his hands still in the hot water as steam rose up around his confused face. He was watching the both of you, eyes glancing between you and Eddie as he tried to work out what was happening.

Eddie turned his back on you as you stared down at the meal he’d made you, eyes still wide and something inside of you sank at the idea of his walking away. But he spun back, a fork and knife in his hand, wrapped in a napkin. He didn’t hand them to you, but he slid them across the counter, his expression neutral - you couldn’t work him out.

“Thank you,” you whispered and Eddie nodded. You wondered if Steve and Jonathan got their breakfast made for them when they went on break, if they came into the kitchen to a bowl of fresh fruit - mangoes and berries and brightly coloured slices of citrus. You thought it would be best not to ask. “Looks good.”

Eddie hummed and nodded, waiting until you picked up your cutlery and unfurled it from the wrapping. He made his leave then, cheeks pink, curls going a little frizzy in the heat and he ducked away, picking up a crate that he took into the freezer, the large door thumping behind him.

The napkin fell to the table as you took out your fork, marvelling over the way the yolk burst perfectly as you dug in, golden liquid pooling across your plate. You picked up the blueberry nose before it got caught, popping it into your mouth and humming at the flavour. And when you looked down, there was a word scrawled across the napkin, faded black ink on white tissue.

“Sorry.”

—————

Eddie made sure he waited long enough for you to be gone by the time he appeared from the walk-in, nose red with the cold, skin goose pimpled under his uniform - because fucking hell, why did he decide to hide in the freezer? He came back out warily, keeping his back against the tiled wall as he peered around the corner. You were gone from his station, your twenty minute break already over and he could see your empty plate and bowl stacked at the sink beside Argyle.

He squared his shoulders and tried to act normal as he stomped back into his kitchen, frown set back on his face but his heart was thundering. It made him feel ill, the way his chest got right, the way his stomach flipped. His station was clear of your plates, but you’d left the napkin there, the corner of it tucked under a plastic quart container so it didn’t float away.

There, in your much neater handwriting and the pink pen you liked to take orders with, was a reply to the boy’s scrawled apology.

“Thank you.”

Eddie stared at the words for too long, until the rosy coloured ink went blurry and his cheeks turned the same shade. He wasn’t sure where you’d gone, but he could smell perfume he assumed was yours, lingering between the stacks of chopped strawberries, the halved mango on the counter.

“You got a crush, my friend?”

Eddie’s head snapped up, a scowl set back on his face instinctually. He liked Argyle, he didn’t mind him at all, but the boy was standing by the sink and was looking at him knowingly. Argyle grinned and raised his brows, waiting for Eddie to answer.

“What? No.” Eddie slammed the napkin back down on the desk. Argyle was still grinning. “Shut up.” Eddie waited until the other boy returned to the dishes before he took the napkin and folded it up, tucking it into his pocket.

He’d bin it later, he told himself. It wasn’t a big deal.

—————

The day Eddie was scheduled off on the rota was a much busier day. It seemed like bad luck, the main cook’s day off coinciding with the monthly farmers market that was set up in Hawkin’s Main Street. The square was filled with stalls, fresh fruit and vegetables in crates, the smell of homemade soap, lavender and rose on the breeze. The tiny storefronts helped funnel the crowds in the direction of the diner, lines of cars driving to the restaurant for breakfast, their trunks full of fresh goods and Mrs Sinclair’s apple pie slices.

It meant your day went too fast, the tips good and the chance of a break slim. Argyle was pushed to his limit, the freezer used more than ever as the full tables called for a quicker turnaround, the frozen burger patties being used instead of the way Eddie liked to make each one fresh. But Eddie wasn’t here and you certainly weren’t thinking about him, so he didn’t need to know. And when your shift ended at five, the dinner rush was just as crazy so you stayed on until six and helped Nancy clear a table of twelve guests, two families from out of town that had too many kids and there were lines of coloured crayon along the walls that just wouldn’t shift until you gave in and brought out a bottle of bleach.

She was grateful enough that she split the table’s tip with you, something you tried to wave away but she insisted and stuffed the dollar bills into the front of your apron, not caring about the stains, the dryer grease, the spilled coffee there. Nancy looked just as undone as you. But it had been a good day - you missed the chance to eat, and maybe get something made for you by Eddie - but you had enough cash rolled up in your purse to start a new stack in your freezer at home and the bus back into town should be due any min—

The bus rolled past before you could get to the stop, the tires squeaking in protest as it passed you by, your feet not able to take you out of the parking lot quick enough. And it was still fine, there was still a little light in the sky, that navy-lilac kinda way that told you nightfall was coming soon, or maybe rain. Maybe both.

So you pulled the strap of your bag across your chest and wished your uniform wasn’t as starchy and tight, ‘cause the heat still lingered even in the evening, warmth collecting in the shadows even as indigo coloured clouds rolled in above. The rain didn’t hit until ten minutes into your walk, a Misty drizzle that had you scrunching your face until it turned into a downpour. A heavy summer storm where thunder shouted at you from the distance, way out across the cornfields and making the sky flash white. You ran down the sidewalk where there weren’t many places to stop, to shelter and you suddenly wished more than ever that you still had your shitty old car that you barely needed to use when you lived in Chicago.

But the garage was coming up, a familiar building with peeling red paint on its walls and a huge shutter that was already closed a third of the way. You hoped and prayed that Wayne was still around, wondering if it would be too cheeky to ask if you could finally take him up on the offer of that ride he once asked if you needed. Weeks of passing by and waving to him - and offering a snickerdoodle from the box you once took into work for Jonathan’s birthday - had built up a quiet sort of friendship.

The garage was quiet and the bell sounded as you pushed open the door, the workshop floor stained with oil and paint, leftover footprints that would never clean off. Cars sat asleep, some with their hoods up, engines ripped out and dismantled on the floor, and thank god, there was still a light on in the office. A warm glow through a window, the outline of a man sorting through papers and his head lifted when he heard you bump into the side of a workbench, a tool you didn’t know the name of clattering to the floor.

You winced and raised your hand in a greeting and an apology. “Sorry, hi— I just— it’s raining.”

Wayne laughed after he got over his surprise, beckoning you in with an oil stained hand. His tiny office smelled like gas and burnt tires but his smile was as friendly and tired as it always was. “Miss the bus?” He asked.

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. Out of the summer air, the garage was cooler and you were drenched, goosebumps trailing across your forearms. “Drove right by me.”

Wayne tutted, sympathetic and he pushed what looked like a stack of invoices into a tray for tomorrow. “That’ll be that Hagan boy, never should’ve been allowed the job. Doesn’t pay any darned attention to nobody.” The man patted down his pockets, searching for his keys. “Jus’ gimme a minute and I’ll drop you off, think the boy took my damn keys. Hey, son—”

Another figure appeared in the doorway, cutting off Wayne’s call. This man was tall and broad shouldered, with dark curls that weren’t tied back. They hit his shoulders, wild strands springing around brown eyes that quickly widened at the sight of you.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Hey!” Wayne snapped with a frown. He whacked the boy’s shoulder with a rolled up newspaper he grabbed from his desk. “That’s no way to speak to a lady. I raised you better than that, you little delinquent.”

Eddie looked astonishingly different out of his chef whites and your surprise showed on your face. Out of his uniform, you could see more skin, more ink. Tattoos curling around his forearms and creeping up towards his biceps, black leaking across lithe muscles that you didn’t get to see at work. He was all dark, black jeans with rips in the knees, a black T-shirt that was well worn, the band logo on the front unrecognisable from wear and from the fact that your music taste was wildly different.

Jewellery he didn’t get to wear glitter on him, silver rings on almost every finger, skulls and orjer horned things around his knuckles, a silver chain peeking out from underneath his collar. There was a hole in the hem of his shirt, heavy scuff marks on his big boots. He was still scowling at you though, a familiar sight that made him look more like the Eddie you knew.

You glanced at Wayne, still confused as to why he was scolding the line cook from your work. You looked back to Eddie, lips trying to wrap around an explanation. He made you feel like you weren’t supposed to be here. “I— the bus. I missed the bus.” You swallowed, an awful shyness coming over you, or maybe it was nerves. “It’s raining.”

The weather was making itself known as the storm closed in, heavy, fat drops of rain pounding on the tin roof of the garage, a deafening roar that only got heavier.

“Yeah, no shit.” Eddie called back, raising his voice to be heard over the din and his cheek got him another smack from Wayne.

“You better hope I don’t find out you talk like that in the kitchen, boy,” Wayne pointed an accusatory finger at Eddie, to which the boy merely rolled his eyes at. “I’ll ask Jim, he’ll tell me.” When Eddie didn’t reply, Wayne pulled on his jacket and set about collecting more sheets of paper. He asked Eddie for his keys and pocketed them before saying, “Ed’s, be a good ‘un and take my friend here home, yeah? I gotta finish up this mess.”

When Eddie raised his brows and dropped his jaw, you were pretty sure your expression was the same. Except you were burning, both at the embarrassment of Wayne being so sweet and the idea of having to spend time with Eddie alone.

“Friend?” Eddie scoffed. “Since when?”

You wanted the floor to open up below you. “I can, I can just walk.” You jammed a thumb at the door, at the torrential rain that was still falling angrily outside of it. “I think the rain has stopped…”

Thunder bellowed from above. A leak in the corner of the work floor dripped onto an old tire. Wayne stared at you both, unimpressed.

And that’s how you ended up in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #linecook!eddie

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readerthatreadsss · 1 year

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Requesting more dom!peter 😮‍💨🥵

𝗔/N: Your request is my command! (especially since I've been searching for more dom!Peter fics myself and have been failing so I might as well do it my damn self!) Also, yeah, it's been a damn long time lmao. I planned to finish up and release this like 4 months ago. Then a whole bunch of bad shit happened and I kinda gave up on writing for a little bit (outside of school cause I need that damn Bachelor's degree) BUT I've slowly started reading again and that bled into me opening up my drafts and finding this and spending some time with it. If you couldn't tell I had a shit ton of fun with this one...so feel free to check my newly updated Masterlist and request guidelines and send me more requests! The more I get, the more I'm gonna force myself to actually write them. (If you already sent one just know I’m working on it I promise)

𝗔𝗹𝗹 𝗡𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 | 𝗧𝗮𝘀𝗺!𝗣𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

(heavily inspired by the song with the same title by Adele.) It came up in my shuffle and when I started listening to the lyrics it was just too perfect.

he's so fucking pretty aghhhh (gif not mine)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: Tasm!Peter Parker x Vigilante!Fem reader

𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5.6k+ (This is my big comeback so I might as well feed yall)

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺��𝗿𝘆: You and Peter have been broken up for about 3 years, but when an impromptu visit to your apartment takes a turn...that may no longer be the case...

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 (𝟭𝟴+ 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗗𝗡𝗜): SMUT!, lil bit of angst at the end (ex to lovers so ofc), minimal use of y/n, P*rn-with-plot, Reader and Peter are FERAL for each other because of their powers (enhanced senses and all that), p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly), a lil possessive Peter, oral (r receiving), fingering, praise kink, Peter using his webs to restrain reader (pre-consented ofc), dom!Peter, sub!Reader (bratty at first tho), pet names (sweetheart, baby, pretty girl, angel), choking, rough sex, brief spanking, other positions, creampie, etc...

The remaining sunlight of the evening bled through your wide studio apartment windows as you finished folding what was left of your newly washed laundry. The plan for the rest of the evening was simple;

Drink two bottles of wine (knowing that your enhanced metabolism would sober the effects), catch up on a few missing assignments to keep your NYU professors off your ass, then jump into your suit and go patrolling.

It was a familiar routine.

Or at least, it had been...since he left.

Your relationship with him ended during your first year of college. To say it hurt like hell would be an immense understatement.

What hurt the most was the fact that you both gave everything you had to make it work...but long distance can be a bitch.

On that warm Saturday night in May, your ex-boyfriend received a call informing him that he had been accepted into a very prestigious engineering program (with a full-ride scholarship attached) all the way in California.

You applied for the very same program, so you knew just how big of an opportunity it would be. And, in good faith, you pushed him to take the offer.

You both insisted, "we'll make it work," and "we'll video chat and text every day. It'll be fine!"

What a load of horseshit.

It took 6 months for you to both arrive at the conclusion that you couldn't juggle your individual academic loads, your nighttime hero personas, AND a long-distance relationship all at the same time. A three-hour time difference didn't help matters either.

It took a while, but you eventually moved on. You kept your grades up, went on a few dates here and there, and even managed to convince yourself that you were doing fine without him.

Until...

*knock knock knock*

Your head peeked out from the fridge to look where you heard the strong yet hesitant knocks on your front door.

Only a handful of people knew where you lived and you weren't expecting to see any of them today.

Assuming it would be a postal worker or someone along those lines, you swung open the door with a polite smile.

"Hi-"

You felt your voice die in your throat as you locked eyes with the deep brown ones you hadn't seen in three years.

"Peter," his name fell from your lips, barely audible.

"Hi, Y/N," he replied with that awkward grin you knew all too well.

His hair was shorter than the last time you saw him, but from the tight fit of his jacket, you could see that was about the only thing about him that shrunk.

You wanted to actually hit yourself in the head for actually imagining yourself doing many things to his large...meaty...biceps- NO, no, no, no get a grip! a voice of logic sounded in your mind.

You hadn't realized how long you stood there silently sizing him up until he spoke again. "Can I...uh...come in, maybe?"

"Umm...sure," you nervously answered, finally taking note of the small cardboard box he was holding.

As you stepped aside to allow him entrance into your apartment, his familiar scent invaded your sensitive senses.

"Oh God," you muttered under your breath, knowing that he heard you, yet unaware that your scent had basically the same effect on him as well.

"You alright?" he turned and asked you in concern trying to hide the tightening of his jeans with the box he brought.

You nodded way too fast, promptly putting some distance between yourself and him. He hadn't been there for longer than 5 seconds and he was already having an effect on you.

"How've you been?" he questioned you, scratching his neck and actively avoiding eye contact. Unbeknownst to you, he was currently repeating every physics law he could remember in his mind to try to quell his growing erection.

It wasn't working very well.

"I've been fine. You?" you quickly spoke, slightly out of breath.

"I-uh-I'm alright," he shook his head with a tight-lipped smile.

He soon found himself just looking at you. It wasn't a blank stare, no, it was the sort of intense look you unintentionally gave someone when trying to commit every single feature to memory as if you weren't certain when you'd get another chance to.

It was a habit of his you noticed a lot when you were dating. And just as it did back then, it sent chills running rampant down your spine. Not to mention your nipples growing obviously hard behind your large shirt with no bra to hide it.

Peter noticed it immediately and fought back a smile, which you glimpsed.

"Why are you here, Peter?" you decided to get down to business before your body betrays you any further.

The brunette let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before actually coming up with an answer. "I wanted to drop these off," he placed the small box on your kitchen counter.

Your eyes immediately narrowed. "You could have mailed it. Or you could've just dropped it at the door and then left. So why are you really here Peter?" you would have felt worse about your tone if you weren't so bothered.

Why the hell did he feel the need to suddenly show up and make you start feeling things you swore you wouldn't feel for him again?

Peter took a deep breath. "Aunt May called me last week. She's not doing too good. So, I came back to help take care of her."

You felt your stomach sink at his words. While you both dated, May grew to be like a second mother to you. You had no idea she was sick.

"Oh shit Peter-I'm so sorry," you crossed the room to engulf him in a hug, despite your initial reaction to his visit.

Peter immediately accepted your hug and found the anxiety in his body dissipating soon after. Your hugs tended to have that effect on him.

He couldn't stop himself from deeply inhaling and drawing in your hair's familiar scent when he wrapped his hands around your clothed waist.

A few seconds passed before you released each other, with you also savoring the feel of his body against you and the way how your skin lit up with goosebumps though there was a thin layer of clothing separating his hands from you.

"I was just cleaning up my old room at May's and I found some of your stuff so I figured I'd drop by and..."

You nodded in understanding and walked over to where he placed the box.

It was mostly filled with old t-shirts, tools, and gadgets from days when you would sleep over at Peter's or stop by to help each other with school projects.

"Thanks," you sent him a smile as you closed the box.

Your smile warmed Peter's heart. It was actually his second favorite thing about you, after your hugs of course. "Yeah, you're welcome," he smiled back, running his hand through his hair. It was a mess by now, but you still wanted to run your hands through it…or maybe even pull on it-

"Sorting through some of this stuff made me realize how much I...missed you," he said, his tone growing more assured.

Thankfully, you were still facing away from him, not giving him the chance to catch the pained expression that briefly crossed your face.

But you could feel him slowly approaching your frozen figure and found your body silently reacting in ways it shouldn't be, yet again. "Do you miss me?" he asked, his voice heavy.

You held back the urge to scream "Yes!" because admitting that out loud would be taking 3 steps backward.

Admitting that you missed him would be undoing all the work and tears you put into moving on from him and the hopes and dreams you had for a life with him.

Admitting that you missed him would mean giving in to the part of you that thought back to your most intimate moments with him when you touched yourself.

And admitting that you missed him would mean letting him back into the four-cornered box you had locked yourself in for the past 3 years.

But, with every step closer that he took, your resolve disappeared that much faster.

"You okay?" he called for your attention.

Your sharp intake of oxygen brought a tense silence over the room when you turned to face him and realized that he stood close enough for your lips to nearly brush his.

"Peter, I-" you tried to form words, but then you saw his lust-filled brown eyes lower to your lips.

And that was all it took for the last of your self-control to disappear.

"Damn it," you mumbled once you realized what was about to happen.

Before Peter could question your outburst, you found yourself latching onto his jacket lapels and pulling him down to meet your lips.

It took mere milliseconds for Peter to react. After all, he had been thinking about doing this since you swung open the door and looked up at him with those eyes of yours.

His large calloused hands took hold of the sides of your face as you clashed in a heap of teeth and tongue. It was desperate and feverish but it was perfect.

It was a language only you and Peter seemed to master, even now after three years apart.

Your lips moved swiftly against his, eager to taste more and more of him with each passing second. You felt him press his growing bulge flush against you, causing a pathetic whine to involuntarily tumble from your lips and a smirk to find its way onto his.

"I did miss you," you softly spoke, "but we can't do this Peter," the logical part of your brain made an appearance, though you kept peppering his lips with kisses.

As his lips moved to your neck, Peter's hands slid down to your ass where he effortlessly lifted your legs off the ground and up around his waist. The feeling of his hands against the bare skin of your thighs garnered yet another moan from you.

"You don't sound so sure angel," you felt him smirk against your heated skin.

You hadn’t heard that nickname in years yet it sent small chills down your spine for the second time that night.

A mumbled curse slipped your lips when he nipped a particular spot below your ear. That was definitely gonna leave a mark.

You soon gathered the strength to pull Peter's hungry lips away from your body, swinging your arms around his neck to hold yourself up.

"We can’t go back from this, you know that right?" you spoke, the both of you panting from the effects of the last minute.

"I don't wanna go back," Peter shook his head, "I wanna fuck you, right here, right now," his lips immediately found yours before his words could fully resonate.

This caught you by surprise which allowed Peter to slip his tongue between your lips.

As his taste continued to flood your senses, you felt yourself grow alarmingly wet.

Peter knew it too because he slowly pulled back and smirked down at you. "I could smell you from the moment I walked in here. Glad to see three years hasn't changed the way your body reacts to me, angel," he accompanied his words with a quick slap to your ass.

His slap and the familiar pet name left you a moaning mess. Just like he knew it would.

A lovely laugh left Peter's mouth before his lips met yours again.

He walked your entangled bodies over to the kitchen counter without breaking the sloppy kiss.

Peter used one hand to blindly clear the counter and place you on it, which sent your box of things flying toward the floor.

Not that either of you cared.

"Too much clothes," you were barely able to say in between kisses.

You followed up by shoving Peter's jacket off his shoulders which fell to your hardwood floors with a thud. He immediately got the message and got rid of his t-shirt as well.

A shameless whimper left your lips at the sight of his very toned muscles. You easily maneuvered Peter's body closer to you and began kissing and sucking his neck and every other available inch of skin just as you had pictured earlier, making sure to leave a few purple bruises in your wake.

“You’re killing me here baby,” Peter harshly swallowed, his eyes sliding closed as you continued to have your way with his chest.

"Wouldn't be a terrible way to die though, right?" you mumbled between lovebites and licks. You felt like an animal in heat but you just couldn't get enough of him, the occasional flex of his muscles with each slither of your tongue and his deep groans only egging you on more.

The taste of his skin alone could've made you cum easily.

But the same could be said for Peter as the feel of your tongue slithering all along his chest had him practically creaming his pants then and there.

Fucking enhanced senses, he cursed inwardly.

“Alright, ease up pretty girl,” he reluctantly grabbed your head, detaching your swollen lips from his body.

“Your turn,” he tugged at the hem of your top.

You quickly pulled off the oversized t-shirt you were wearing to reveal your bare top half to him.

He spared no time in cupping your breasts with his eager hands. "Fuck, I missed you so much," he mumbled.

"Me, or my boobs?" you jokingly raised a brow at him.

"Definitely both," he grinned, bringing his mouth down to your tits.

As his tongue made contact with the soft mounds, you loudly moaned and wrapped your fingers in his unruly tangle of hair.

He switched between nipping and sucking on your nipples, in the way he knew you liked, while his free hand pinched and squeezed the other.

"Just like that Peter fuck-" hearing his name fall from your lips drove Peter insane.

His tongue flicked your sensitive nipples harder, and his eager sucking pleased you to no end.

Peter eventually pried himself away from your supple breasts, remembering the other parts of you he wanted to worship, and brought his hands to rest on the sides of your head. Your lips connected once more in a delicate kiss.

Though you knew what lay ahead for the evening, you were both perfectly content with each other's lips at the moment, just enjoying the constant waves of pleasure from the intimate contact.

But it wasn't long before the kiss grew heated and you tried to take control. Peter, however, wasn't giving you a chance.

"I leave for three years and you think you're hot shit, huh," he smirked.

"Why don't you ask the guy I fucked on this counter last week," you retorted, knowingly riling him up.

"Don't say shit like that, it's not funny," he nearly growled as his grip on your ass grew more forceful.

You secured your grip on his hair before pressing a small kiss on the side of his lips. "Gimme a reason to shut up then," you challenged him.

“Trust me, I will,” Peter grabbed your hands from his hair and forced them to your sides. His movements were swift as he laid you flat on your counter and ripped your thong off your body.

There he is, you smiled to yourself. This is the Peter you wanted to fucking ruin you.

You felt his face ghost your drenched opening as he deeply inhaled your scent. "You smell fucking delicious baby," he praised you, his mouth actually watering at the thought of tasting you.

A genuine smile found its way onto your face but morphed into a gasp when Peter teasingly ran his tongue up your sensitive slit.

"You taste even better," he added, using his strong arms to bring your thighs closer to his head. He wanted to tease you but it was getting harder to resist the urge to dive right into your heat like a man starved.

"Holy shit," you all but screamed as he briefly nipped at your swollen clit before sucking on it to soothe the sting.

His grip on your thighs combined with the ministrations of his tongue was pure bliss.

You attempted to slip your hands in his hair once more, but found that they were suddenly held in place against your counter by two of his webs.

Your eyes briefly widened at the feel of the rough, sticky material against your wrists, not having felt it in a few years. Back then, you expressed to Peter your desire to engage in some bondage, but being the daughter of a super soldier, it was clear that no rope or wire would be able to hold you. Peter's webs became the next best choice.

"That's not fair," you pouted, though it melded into a moan as Peter continued to suck and lick between your glistening folds.

The sounds of Peter devouring you resounded through the small apartment.

"I'm close Pete," you whined, your chest heaving in arousal.

Peter decided to focus his tongue on your eager bundle of nerves while he slowly inserted two fingers into your pussy. He instantly curled the digits causing you to briefly squirm at the sudden pressure against your G-spot.

"More," you begged, and Peter delivered, adding another finger inside of you. He immediately sped up his motion inside of you, making sure his fingers gauged that spongy spot to drive you over the edge with each thrust inside of you.

“That feels so fucking good, Peter, oh my God," you loudly moaned at the feeling of his fingers inside of you, calling forth an orgasm with no warning.

You repeatedly bucked against Peter's face as you came, white-hot pleasure filling your veins. Peter locked onto your stare, still skillfully working his fingers in and out of you, loving the way you constantly clenched around his fingers.

"Jesus fucking Christ," your legs jerked when Peter dove in and drank every ounce of slick you had to give while still fucking you with his fingers.

With his face now damp of your juices, Peter looked up to meet your blissed-out eyes. "Gimme one more, angel," he placed a soft kiss on your thighs, "I know you can do it for me."

You would do anything to keep Peter's mouth between your legs.

So, you eagerly nodded in response before taking a deep breath in preparation for another onslaught.

You didn't have to wait long.

Peter’s tongue went to work on your glistening hole while his fingers fiddled with your overstimulated clit. And, within minutes, your thighs were trapping Peter's head as an even bigger orgasm rocked you again, the borderline pornographic sounds leaving your lips shooting straight to his hardened cock.

Peter seemed perfectly fine with staying between your legs all night, but you had other plans.

"Pete, I need you inside me," you begged, tears of pleasure leaking from your eyes.

He rose from beneath you and climbed up to free your hands from his webs. "I know, baby, I know," he softly replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips and using his hands to soothe your reddened wrists. Your own taste on his tongue flooded your senses which made you even more desperate.

Peter obliged, slipping out of his sweatpants and sliding his girth between your folds. He used one hand to hold himself up above you on the counter, and the other to slowly guide his dick into you.

You both shared a long moan as he buried himself to the hilt inside your pussy, your wetness making it way too easy.

He held still for a few seconds, waiting for you to adjust and give the all clear for him to move.

Eagerness guided your words. “Fuck me, please.”

Peter set a brutal pace, knowing you were more than capable of handling it. Satisfied cries left your chest as you dragged your nails along Peter’s back, hard enough to leave trails.

“You can take it, pretty girl, I know you can,” he groaned as he continued to pound into you, trying desperately not to blow his load with the way you were constantly clenching around him and marking his back.

You tried to reply, but all that you could form were sloppy moans and broken syllables.

“Oh look at you, drunk on my cock already?” he teased with a particularly hard slam that prodded your cervix, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Pleasure-filled cries mingled with words continued to fall from your lips as Peter gently moved a few fallen strands of hair behind your ear with a hand. "-feels so fucking perfect," you muttered, your lips curved into a drunken smile.

Peter reached down and pinched one of your nipples, gaining a loud whimper from you. “I love hearing you make those pretty sounds for me baby,” his strokes grew harder and deeper.

“All for you, Pete, all for you,” you panted as he fucked into you, the delicious smell and sound of sex lingering in the air.

Peter used a hand to wrap around your throat before using the other to reach down and fiddle with your aching clit.

The combination of Peter’s dick hitting that perfect spot, his fingers massaging your clit, and the lack of air from his hand around your neck was making you dizzy and overstimulated.

You fucking loved it.

“God, I missed you,” you spoke breathlessly.

He moved closer to kiss you briefly and tenderly. “I missed you too, baby.”

No amount of time could take away his knowledge on how to please you, how to get you like this with ease, not when you were all he thought about for years on end.

Peter pressed a quick kiss to your forehead then continued to fuck you on your kitchen counter.

"I'm gonna cum again baby, right fucking there," you moaned out.

Peter's grip on your neck grew tighter. "Not yet, don't you cum until I tell you to sweetheart," he commanded you, removing his fingers from your clit.

A frustrated groan rumbled in your chest as you forced yourself to sustain your orgasm.

"Don't pout," he smirked.

And before you could realize it, Peter had pulled out of you and effortlessly flipped you onto your stomach.

A hand soon gripped your hair, yanking you up against his chest and eliciting a pitiful whine from you.

"Tell me what you want,” Peter commanded, using his free hand to strike your ass. Hard.

You whimpered again at the sting of his slap. “I need you inside me. Please,” you pleaded.

He seized your hair harsher and leaned forward for his lips to graze against your ears. “Beg.”

A small whine left your lips at his words. You were so desperate you didn’t even care how embarrassing this would be in retrospect. “I need to cum, Peter. Please baby you're the only one who can make me cum.”

Peter pressed a kiss to your neck, nearly causing you to lose your footing. And he soon complied by ramming himself back into you.

“Oh my Fuck-“ you cried before biting your lip, suddenly aware that you had neighbors.

But Peter pulled his cock from your heat, with just the tip remaining, before roughly slamming into you, his hips slamming against your ass with the motion. “Come on, lemme hear you angel.”

He repeated the action, knocking the air out of your chest, “Peter!” your hands gripped the sides of your counter with such force you were sure you felt it crack under your grasp.

Peter caught wind of this and freed your hair before using his hands to pull your hands behind your back. "You're so perfect baby," he mumbled in your ear, continuing to brutally fuck you from behind, "So fucking beautiful with my cock inside you."

"I can't hold it anymore," you cried, "I need to cum, Peter, please."

With that whiny tone and those overstimulated tears to top it off, Peter couldn't deny you any longer. "Let it all out for me sweetheart. Cum for me," he littered your shoulders with kisses.

Your eyes slammed shut as your walls contracted around his cock, pleasure shooting through you and rocking you on a seemingly cellular level. Your mouth opened in a silent moan, unable to form a sound from the satisfied tremors attacking your nerves. The intensity of your finish is one only brought on when Peter fucked you and it was damn near cosmic.

"Shit," you groaned in relief, your long-awaited climax passing.

Peter slowed his movements inside of you and released your hands. "You did so good for me angel," he pushed your hair aside and kissed your neck, trying to stave off his own orgasm for a little while longer.

Aftershocks rocked your body while Peter continued sporadically moving inside of you, yet you couldn't get enough. Your body was more than ready to keep taking whatever he dished out.

Peter didn't need to read your mind to see that, but he needed to make sure. His lips kept up their onslaught on your neck as he softly spoke, "You wanna keep going?"

"Hell yes," you panted with a grin that he couldn't fully see, "You still haven't cum yet, and my bed is still fully made."

Happy with your response, Peter gave your ass a sharp smack. "That's my girl."

He pulled out of you and turned your body to face him, smiling at the sight of your fucked out face. "Three orgasms and a handful of tears later and you're still the most beautiful girl in the world," he held you by the sides of your face.

His words left you reeling, causing a slight blush to dust your cheeks and butterflies to swirl within your stomach.

Before you could form a response, Peter leaned down to kiss you. He soon hoisted up your legs around his waist, preparing to escort you to your bed as per your own demands.

As he looked around for the bed's location, you took advantage of his momentary distraction and latched your lips onto his neck, reapplying the bruises you left there that were slowly fading already.

Peter was the happiest man on earth as he walked over to your bed, his cock prodding your soaked entrance, and your lips ravaging his neck.

He carefully sat on the edge of your bed, with you now on his lap and your legs still around him. You expected him to ease his length back into you but he slowly brought your head down to meet his intense stare.

You carefully wrapped your hands around his shoulders to keep yourself up, the silence in the room growing deafening.

You could tell from his eyes that he desperately wanted to say something, and you wondered if it was the same thing you had been considering as well.

But you were both aware of what saying those words would mean for your broken relationship and simply settled for smiles instead.

Peter brought a hand up to lay your forehead against his, allowing your breathing to momentarily sync.

"You ready for me?" he questioned you with a hand at the nape of your neck to hold your head against his.

You immediately nodded in response causing his own head to shake in time with yours. A small laugh was shared between you both as your nose continued to brush his own.

"You're adorable," you said before you could stop yourself.

That stupid full-toothed grin that you hadn't seen in a while soon spread across his beautiful face at your words, gaining another laugh from you.

"Last round?” you eventually pleaded with a smile.

"Anything for you," Peter replied, meaning it in every way. Adoration littered his stare as he slowly lowered you onto his length.

A satisfied mewl slipped your lips at the familiar feel of him.

The slow drag of his cock in and out of you, while he rocked your hips back and forth to grind on him, had your bottom lip sucked between your teeth with eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure.

But Peter wanted to see it all. He wrapped a hand around your neck and forced you to meet his dilated eyes. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.”

His soft yet stern tone caused you to swallow back a moan as you continued to move on his girth.

He then slapped your ass with his free hand, silently urging you to move faster.

You leaned down and quickly kissed his lips before happily obliging, now beginning to bounce in his lap, chasing your next climax.

“There you go angel, just like that,” Peter’s stare never wavered.

Peter furiously fucked up into you, your moans and the constant smack of skin on skin filling the apartment.

His other hand which never left your throat now squeezed it harder. “Fuck!” You were barely able to moan out as your breasts bounced with your every move.

“Shit, you’re gripping me like a vice,” Peter groaned, his crude pace never faltering though his orgasm was closer than ever.

Your bed creaked under the onslaught of your bodies, but neither of you payed it any attention only having one goal in mind.

“One more time,” Peter planted his feet on the ground to get a better angle, "Need you to cum on my cock one more time."

But from the broken pacing of his hips to the strong furrow of his brow, you could tell he was close too. “Together?” You breathlessly suggested, grasping the nape of his neck with your hands.

Peter nodded in agreement before engulfing your chest and back with his arms, pulling you closer to his body.

Your breaths mingled, eyes focused on nothing except each other as his grip on your upper body allowed him to help you ride him even faster.

"Yes, Pete, oh my God-" pleas, curses, and moans tumbled from your lips as your skin buzzed at your incoming release.

"There you go, cum for me," Peter's voice grew strangled as his hips stuttered below you.

"Fuck," you wailed, your finish hitting you like a freight train and your pussy leaking into Peter's length.

The intense clench of your walls around him was all it took for Peter to explode with a groan, his pace faltering with that final pump.

"Holy shit baby," he panted, his cum painting your walls in spurts.

His firm hold on your body brought you collapsing on your bed together, satisfied and smiling.

And, for what felt like hours, you lay there in his arms. But of course, your thoughts began to run rampant.

Peter could damn near hear your thoughts spiraling.

"I don't regret this," he suddenly broke the silence you had elapsed into, "Do you?"

"Peter I-...I don't know," you freed yourself from his hold and sat up to look at him.

His brows furrowed at your response, hurt briefly flashing across his features.

"I loved you," you spoke, "I loved you more than anything."

"I know. I loved you too," Peter nodded with a small smile.

"And I will never blame you for leaving. Ever," you slipped a hand in his own and squeezed briefly.

"But?"

Your eyes stung with tears threatening to fall. "What happened to us, it damn near destroyed me, Peter. And it took so so long to put myself back together."

Peter swallowed harshly at your words.

"And then here you come, waltzing in here, fucking my brains out and making me feel things," you lowered your head, looking away from him.

You heard Peter move closer to you before feeling him lift your chin to face him again. His expression wasn't as disappointed as you'd expected, just confused. "Spit it out. I know you're holding something back."

"Why'd you come back here and-and do all this? Reminding me of what we had when you know you're gonna be gone again in the next few weeks?" you felt your voice shrink to a broken whisper.

Peter used his thumb to wipe away a lone tear that fell from your eye, his previously puzzled look now morphing into a smirk. There was obviously something he wasn't telling you.

You sniffled and lightly hit Peter's shoulder. "Well, now it's your turn bug face, spit out whatever you're hiding!"

You received no answer other than Peter leaning forward and pressing a deep kiss against your lips. You eagerly accepted and returned the spontaneous action but were left even more confused when he pulled away.

"That wasn't an answer," you arched a brow at Peter.

"I'm not going anywhere," he smiled.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm moving back to New York, or already moved, technically," he began to explain.

Your mouth opened and closed in shock as your brain fumbled for a response and came up inconclusive.

"I'm gonna finish out the school year online and stay here to take care of Aunt May. I mean it, baby, I'm not going anywhere," he grinned, watching tears of joy fall from your eyes.

"This better not be some sick fucking joke Peter, I swear to God," you pointed a finger at him accusingly.

"Can you shut up and just come here?"

You couldn't help but laugh as you obliged and grabbed Peter's neck before pulling him in for another kiss, your face still wet from tears and a smile almost permanently etched onto your face.

You pulled away but sank into his open arms. You relished how securely he held you. "I'm so happy," you said aloud, truly meaning it for the first time in a long time, though it was only meant to be an inner thought.

Peter kissed your forehead and looked down to meet your eyes, "I'll never stop making you happy, Y/N."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

#tasm peter parker #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader #tasm!peter smut #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter x y/n #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield #marvel smut #smut #oneshot #welcome back #tasm!peter parker smut

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stayconnecteed · 3 months

Text

❪⠀🪐.⠀say i'm what you need⠀𓏔⠀lee know⠀❫

☆ㅤlee know x afab!reader⠀★⠀3.3k words

warnings / note: this is just a silly fic based on my lovely @skzms minho's drabble 'minho in love', which i totally recommend before you read this. i hope you like it, may, and that i made justice to your words!! ♡ i listened to say i'm what you need by låpsley while writing this, ofc. and it's just some thoughts about how minho and you met, but from your point of view.

You knew it was pouring outside the bar, but you didn't care. That night you had gone out with your friends in the area you lived in, escaping the rain on short runs from bar to bar, spending the money you had saved for the occasion, the shifting spring weather announcing that there was not much time left before the end of your last college term. You had met in your dorm room to get ready, glasses of cheap alcohol and makeup products everywhere, your favourite playlist playing in the background as you exchanged skirts and tops and little hair hacks, laughing and telling each other the latest gossip. And you kept laughing, showing off the dress you were wearing for the first time that night, while you danced with your friends downstairs in the bar where you had arranged to hang out with other students from your faculties.

It was those moments, your mind free of worries and exams, simply enjoying the present, with a couple of drinks downed and the music flowing through your body, in which you felt more alive than ever. And it showed. You became a magnet for anyone who approached you, inviting them to meet you with the beautiful smile that curved your lips and narrowed your eyes, your extroverted energy blending with the innocent look in your irises. You had greeted most of the people in the bar, most of them accepting your hand shake with a complicity of who had already shared nights of fun by your side, and the few that hadn't, accepting your touch with confusion written all over their faces.

You exuded confidence, in that silky dress you never usually wore, with its thin strings crossing your bare back in smooth motions, and the empty glass of rum and coke in your hand. Or so Minho had thought when he had really seen you, your hips moving under your best friend's hands like a leaf swaying in a current of air, your hands in the air and shouting the lyrics of the song at full volume. When he had entered the bar where Chan was waiting for him, the first time he had saw you at all, you had approached him, even if you had no idea of who he was, welcoming him as if you were lifelong friends, only to disappear as quickly as you had arrived, leaving with you the breath that had gotten stuck in his throat.

And after that first interaction you'd felt his eyes on you all night, following you around the bar, running over your skin as you'd used the dance to get attention you already had anyway. You had laughed when you had pretended to slide your own gaze around the room and made eye contact with him, his ears tinging with a reddish hue that the darkness of the night didn't allow you to see, but the sheepish smile he outlined as he averted his eyes from your figure giving you to understand everything you needed to. Your best friend had dared you to kiss one of the guys in the bar in exchange for a drink, and you wondered if he would be the one suited for your little games, despite his self-conscious aura.

That's why you knew you had fallen for him. You, never one to turn down a juicy challenge, had detached yourself from your friend, approaching the counter after shooting a quick glance at the guy, more than willing to steal a kiss and get on with your night. But as soon as he joined you, ordering what he had seen you drink so far, his nervous smile creating butterflies inside you, and you greeted him again, it was clear to you that this challenge was not going to do any good. First, because you didn't see yourself capable of doing that to him. But also because you were sure that once you tried him, you wouldn't want to stop. So you stayed next to him, your shoulder brushing against his, exchanging hellos and names, telling him who you were and what you did, listening to him tell you about his work and his family, who your friends were, where you came from, what you wanted to do with your lives. And by the time you left the bar, cheeks flushed as your hands accidentally touched, you felt like you had known each other all your lives.

You had had breakfast together, once the sun had risen, in a nearby coffee shop, reluctant to let the moment end, stretching the conversation until the bubble inevitably burst. And when he had accompanied you to your residence, your breaths drawing trails of steam barely perceptible in the air, he had quickly stammered something about your phone number, and you had not been able to deny him, so you took the device from his trembling hands and wrote it down among his contacts, absolutely sure that it was impossible for that midnight bond to go any further.

But you were surprised to wake up two days later with a couple of messages from an unknown number, simple words that hid a fear of rejection that you could not see, but that Minho had felt as he wrote it. And in that first chat interaction, which had been an aberration to all the ones you had had so far, you formally and politely agreed to meet again. Later you would smile as you reread it, noticing the urgency in your messages, that hidden truth that screamed that you didn't care about the place, that you just wanted to see each other again, but that you weren't going to confess it because it was too soon.

Actually, with Minho nothing had been too soon. Somehow, every step you had taken, however small, had seemed the size it deserved at the time. You had feared that the spell you had fallen under that night was over, but when you arrived at the café where he had asked you to meet him, time seemed to stand still around you. Not in the dreamy way of every romantic movie, time slowing down when you made eye contact, but you were so at ease with each other that the numbers on your phone screen didn't seem to move, engrossed as you were in your conversation, in each other.

Minho had remembered the order you had made at that first hurried breakfast, and when you arrived he waiting with the steaming mug in front of him. He greeted you with a shy smile, one end of his lips curving more than the other, looking down nervously. One of your favourite snacks was also waiting for you, a detail that made you squeal with excitement when you told your friends, noticing how attentive he had been to everything you said. And by the time you realised it was way past breakfast time, the clock ticking just at one o'clock, you smiled when you saw in his eyes that even though it had been hours, just for both of you it had felt like a few minutes.

And the days turned into weeks, and your get-togethers became more frequent, always brightening your days. Waking up in the mornings was wonderful, just because when you unlocked your phone you had a "Good morning" from him, accompanied by a photo of his cats, or a selfie, just before he left for the gym. And you had developed an amazing ability to invent excuses, each one worse than the next, just to spend a few more seconds by his side, even if it meant asking him to accompany you home, or inviting him to dinner at one of the restaurants he had written down to try together.

The best were the memories, and the first times. You couldn't forget the first time you'd noticed how he tried to be the one to walk closer to the road, and how you'd noticed it ever since. A couple of weeks after you met, on your way to nowhere, just walking around, a car had passed too close to you, and he had bent down to tie his shoelaces, even though they were perfectly knotted, only to gently push you to the safe side of the sidewalk. You had watched his frown soften, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened, but the relief was evident on his face. And when you got home you relived it in your mind, and your heart was filled with warmth by his antics.

And the first time he had touched you was still etched in your memory. You had noticed that Minho was not much given to physical contact, and you had respected that, so every little interaction, every brush of his skin against yours, sent shivers down your spine. But that time had been special, and he hadn't been able to refuse. You knew it was chilly outside, but as clueless as you were, when you left home you had only grabbed your favorite leather jacket. As you headed to the new restaurant Minho had discovered and offered you to go to that night - where they supposedly made the best sushi around - you had started to shiver. You didn't feel it was that cold either, but it was seeping through the thin fabric and soaking into your bones. He noticed right away, but it took him a while to muster the courage to stop you in the middle of the street, take off the scarf he was wearing and tug it into place around your neck.

Your reaction, you thought, had been pathetic. Your face falling uncertainly, your eyes anywhere but on his, another shiver running through you and not because of the cold, your fingers atching to take his hands in yours. You had noticed the way his fingers had brushed your collarbone the same way he had, but you had been petrified, not quite sure what to do next. Minho took the initiative, eternal gentleman, taking you by the hand, and you just ignored the rushed way your heart was pounding, the beats echoing in your ears, clumsy steps to follow his determined strides.

The first time he had invited you to his place, a casual evening with his friends, so you could get to know his friends. How it hadn't taken you two seconds to strike up a conversation with them, finding common points and shared hobbies, exchanging phone numbers and laughs, appreciating how easy-going they were. You knew Chan, whom you had seen many times in your favorite pub, and also Seungmin, the first in your class, and the one you talked to for hours. You could feel Minho's eyes on you as he bit his nails, half paying attention to whatever Jisung was telling him, and you tried to smile at him or make eye contact with him, to see if he would come closer, wishing he would come closer, just to feel his presence next to you. But he didn't, and during the walk back to your flat seemed he to be too much in his head to engage any conversation.

The first time he slept over at your apartment, at a point in your relationship where you can't even remember how long you've known each other because the answer always seems to be "since always". You had spent the entire evening watching movies and anime, sitting on the couch, so close that you could feel each other's body heat, yet miles apart. By the time you realized, as it had happened so many times before, instead of a few moments Minho had been there all day, and it was too late for him to return home, so you offered him to spend the night with you even though you wanted to beg him to stay. And he, unable to refuse you anything, accepts. And waits for you looking at his phone while you take a shower, seemingly calm, although once outside you fear you have made him uncomfortable because he locks himself almost instantly in the bathroom, mumbling an excuse between his teeth. You sit on the couch, taking the spot where he had been, your favorite sweater slipping its sneaky black fabric over your shoulder, but by the time he sits down next to you again that distance is more present than ever.

And the memory of his touch, which you spend longing for every time you allow yourself to think about it, a dangerous recurring thought in his presence. It is unusual for him to hug you, only two or three times that you keep in your heart as the greatest of treasures, and at such occasions when he only wrapped his arms around you to keep you from breaking into pieces, because you had asked him to, because he was able to make you forget what it was that had made you suffer so much. And the first time you were the one who witnessed that vulnerable side of Minho, that night when your phone rang before the hand of the clock brushed midnight, when Chan begged you to come, and before he finished talking you were already on your way out the door, your heart in your throat.

The way you hadn't bothered to put on a coat, and you knew Minho would scold you, but you couldn't think, not when he was suffering. So you drove to his home, your badly knotted converse stepping on the gas pedal to the legal maximum, and rushed up the stairs, throwing yourself at him the instant he opened the door for you, his face hiding in the crook of your neck, the strands of his hair brushing against your nose. And you had both closed your eyes, him fearing that by parting you everything would collapse, that it would all be a dream, you tightening your grip as if the magnitude of the force you used would be enough to free Minho from his grief. And when you heard the first sob you didn't move, a warm, soft statue he could trust and lean on, until he was ready to speak.

But when hearing the mewing of one of his cats you noticed him twitch, and you let him go, his absence heavier than the worst of regrets in your mind, waiting for him to tell you what he wanted you to do. You don't leave him, you don't push him away, you just stand by his side, trying to figure out what his condition was due to. When he explains it to you, his teary eyes exuding exhaustion, you decide to take the lead, finishing preparing the dinner he had left half made. You make sure he's fed, that he doesn't go into a trance, while you fetch Soonie's carrier, the sick kitten that had alerted Minho, and carefully lay him down inside, stroking his fur as you hear him cry out. And then you accompany his owner to the vet, staying beside him while they examine the cat, letting him nap on your lap while they operate his pet in the adjacent room, moving in for a few days to his apartment to take care of the little family Minho has formed.

And during those days you come to understand how deep the bond you share is, when you see his toothbrush next to yours and it seems like the most normal thing in the world. When you wake up in the mornings and find him sitting next to you on the couch, staring at his kitten, slowly recovering but certain that he will be fine, and you gently pull him up, whispering silly nothings to him and accompanying him to his bed to rest, always staying out of his room, respecting his personal space. When hours later he wakes up, and even with his eyes clouded by sleep he mumbles a "thank you", his raspy voice talking about your caring nature and the plate of food you've just left in his hands. From the first moment you had fit together like two pieces of the same puzzle, and you had never wanted to develop that sense of familiarity, too busy forgetting your surroundings and losing yourself in each other.

But there is something that has changed in his gaze, and there is something that has changed inside you, and in the loneliest moments of the night you realize that this routine you have developed while living with him is too inherent in you, and that you need him to need you in that way. Not broken, not sick, just that he wants to have you close, that he can't breathe knowing you're not there, that he longs for your presence even when you're just a few feet away from him. Because that's the way you love him, and if it's not reciprocated the pain may be too much for you. You need him, because it's him, because Minho has made his way deep into your soul, and has decided to stay. And because if at any moment he had to leave you, you would lose a part of what makes you who you are.

That's why you think you are dreaming the night you fall asleep on the couch, while watching a movie. And it's a beautiful dream, because amidst the haze of sleep you are able to hear Minho's tentative voice whisper a quiet "I love you", almost as if it had slipped out. You don't know if it's real because it's not the first time you've dreamed it, because the certainty that you're in love with him warms your heart and makes you smile even in your worst moments. But the trembling lilt in his voice as he utters those three words sounds different that time, and it hurts you to suggest the idea that he really told you, but it hurts you more to think that he would never be able to say it, not even in the privacy of his living room.

But the next day you decide you don't care. Because you've always felt that genuine connection with him, and his nervous gesture has never changed since he's known you, but mostly because you need to know it's true. When you wake up, the blanket you had laid out anyway the night before is carefully draped over you, and Minho is gone, but the space next to you that is shaped like his body is still warm, so you make your way with clumsy steps to the kitchen, sitting down in one of the chairs. You watch him prepare breakfast with quick movements, and you stare at him with that love-struck silly face you know you only make when your eyes fall on him. And just as it had happened to him the night before, it slips out.

"I love you" you say, almost a chuckle, as if you can't believe you're really blurting it out. And you see the expression on his features change, and for a moment you think it was a mistake, that you should have swallowed the words. But then he scoops you up with a half angry scowl on his face and places you on his lap, the hopeful gleam in his eye accompanying that question he asks you, wanting to know if you're serious, if you're not joking with him. And like every time you feel his touch against your skin you melt, nodding quickly, your heart pounding. You hear him mumble something about how you shouldn't be throwing those things out like that, to protect your heart, but you couldn't care less because then he whispers "I love you too" and you feel his lips against yours. And you kiss him like you need him to breathe, you kiss him because you know he's all you need in your life.

taglist: @jazziwritesthings · @rylea08 · @starlostastronaut · @manuosorioh · @kpopmenace143 · @skzms · @atinyniki

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#stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #lee know #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know imagines #lee know x reader #☆ㅤ🪐 writings!!#☆ㅤminho recs!!

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writingsbychlo · 7 months

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okay but the world needs a how would the 🐍 boys react to a taylor swift concert (and if you categorized them by album i would also not be mad)

😘💋

for you, my love? anything 😌

slytherin boys + taylor swift concert/albums

draco: draco is impartial. it’s not his typical music taste but he will hum to songs when you play them, he knows you like them. he hires someone to make sure he gets really good tickets and says you can take anyone when he surprises you with them. when you say you want to take him, he fucking loves it. he doesn’t show it, but knowing you’d share something so special with him, it makes him so happy. would wear a basic fit, lets be real. would pay someone to custom make your outfit for your favourite album, though. also, he bought tickets to a tour spot of a place you’ve always wanted to visit and he makes it a whole vacation. splashes cash for extra packages. rich boy vibes. he’d never admit it to anyone but he has listened to All Too Well (10 min version) when he’s in his emo moments.

he’s giving Red, though, and would make the effort to sing along to any songs he knows enough of just to see you smile. like tell me he isn’t giving the youthful innocence of 22 but also I Knew You Were Trouble, like???

mattheo: has an alarm set for tickets and tries to get them so eagerly with you. again, not his usual music taste, but his has been known to scream-sing Shake It Off when drunk. would wear a toned down outfit to match whatever you’re wearing and would absolutely wear any bracelets you make him. holds all your belongings so you don’t have to worry about anything. holds your hand the whole time and sings with you. you’d stay in a fancy hotel overnight the day before and after, he wanted to make it special. buys matching tour hoodies with you.

he’s giving Fearless, like lets be real, The Way I Loved You was written for him. he isn’t ashamed to admit he loves that album, though. that dedication of slightly toxic but mostly just obsessed love, sweet and adorable first love feelings, y’know?

theo: asked if you’d seen there was a tour coming up and chuckled at your excitement when you screamed yes. gets tickets when you don’t manage to and makes a joke like ‘how many boyfriend points did this just earn me?’ spoiler: it’s a lot. wears all your bracelets that you make on one arm and helps you make trades with people. researches the set list to make sure he knows all the lyrics to any possible songs that might play so he can sing with you, but already knows quite a lot. not ashamed to listen to her if he’s with you or missing you. buys you any merch you want, has so many bags to be taken home.

his album is Folklore, just because I think the hazy indie suit him. august is friends-to-lovers with him after spending the summer with his family in italy. change my mind, you can’t.

enzo: baby boy goes all out for this. he’s so lover coded, but he knows all the albums very well. listens to her music with or without you and is proud of it. you sat together to book tickets and try to double your chances and it worked. not only wears and trades bracelets but makes them with you, makes his own set to swap with people too. looks for celebrities and gets to excited when he spots them. he’s the kinda guy to propose during Love Story. matching outfits, matching merch. you guys both have lost your voices the next day and he can’t stop grinning about it. is convinced taylor made eye contact with him. would wear a custom outfit with you, too.

his album is Lover. no doubt. he’s a cutie pie and he’s so pastel-sunshine-sparkles-love. Paper Rings? he belts that. You Need To Calm Down? he bodies it with so much sass just to see you giggle. London Boy? I don’t even need to say.

tom: hears you didn’t get tickets and starts pulling strings to get them for you because you were sad. tries to be casual and just leave them on your desk one day, but can’t help his smile when you burst into his dorm at 11pm and kiss him stupid for it. is willing to let you pick his outfit as long as you make it ‘normal’. you guys match but in a subtle way. like mattheo, books a hotel for before and after, and also will hold your things. doesn’t sing along but he’s not a buzzkill, y’know? stands with his arms wrapped around your waist the whole time, sways slightly to the music for you. he will spin you occasionally. so defensive when you’re looking at merch, growls at someone to fuck off while they still have teeth for telling you to hurry up and pick. gets a hoodie when you tell him it would look good on him and actually wears it for you. also buys the special packages like sound checks etc.

Reputation. you’re gonna look me in my eyes and tell me Look What You Made Me Do isn’t his anthem? if he had a gun to his head he would name that as his favourite song.

bonus for you bc we’re talking abt him right now: all I’m gonna say is reggie + enchanted. that’s it, that’s all.

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #mattheo riddle #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott/reader #theodore nott x reader #draco malfoy/reader #draco malfoy x reader #tom riddle/reader #tom riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle/reader #lorenzo berkshire/reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader

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spikedsoul · 1 year

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Imagine the fanfic happening in the movie universe.

Honey is the maid (Human, maybe?) that takes care of Bowser, feeding him and listening to his new Peach songs. Until, one day, the songs aren't about Peach anymore.

Gently hold small husband with salad tongs-

CAN YOU IMAGINE also um I couldn't help myself. Did i get carried away? Yes! (Although I didn't include the last bit, sorry!) Hopefully I kept him in character from the movie lmao

You were used to hearing Bowser talk and sing about Peach as you made his food, did his laundry, cleaned his room like the giant manchild he was. The only time he acknowledged that you existed was when he needed to bend someone's ear about his plans (marrying Peach) and Kamek wasn't around... but you weren't complaining. It was steady work and steady pay, and you were taken care of well enough that for now, you could handle it. In fact the only regular direct interaction you had with him was bringing his food, and he usually just snatched it from you without a word.

You'd also been privy to some of his more tender moments, a mere anonymous shoulder to lament to. Over the years, you'd learned to see past the anger, past the obsession, to know he's got a heart buried deep inside that chest - if only someone could reach it. But you kept it all to yourself - he probably still didn't know your name.

And why should he? He was a king, and you were paid to be a maid, silent and invisible. And that was fine. Things didn't need to be complicated. It was a simple business transaction.

You slipped into his music room as you'd done so many times before, listening to him play as you quietly got to work tidying up around him.

Sometimes it felt like he didn't even know you were there - but that allowed you to sort of see under that spiked shell of his, so you really didn't mind. Although, he never stopped playing either way, so who knew?

"Tell me, sweetheart," you heard him rumble over the music, "what is it that keeps you here?"

You hadn't heard those lyrics before, but the spoken word style suited them.

He chuckled - well, cackled more like - as he continued playing. "So diligently taking care of my castle, and me, and never once caring to speak up. So content to stay hidden in the background. You've never recoiled from my touch or looked at me like the villain I am, nor have you let leak any of my.... hmm, less than proud moments. So tell me, my sweet little handmaiden, do you think you're invisible to me?"

You dropped your broom in shock and spun around to see him, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. The only sound that echoed through the chamber now was the clatter of the broom handle hitting the floor.

What the fuck just happened? Did you hallucinate all of that just now? Your wide eyes swept the room in front of you, your mouth hanging open; it's been a while since you'd been on a proper vacation, so maybe you had imagined it...

With a quiet sigh, you turned around to pick up your broom - only to be met with a massive, scaly paw wrapping gently around your throat, clawed thumb forcing your head back by your chin. Your face flushed brightly as you stared doe-eyed right into King Bowser's grinning face.

"L-Lord Bowser," you stammered, absolutely ashamed of how you felt about his warm hand encompassing your neck so easily. Through all your interactions, this was the first time you'd ever touched him, and you had to admit his scales were smoother than you'd expected.

His eyes narrowed as he watched you, his nostrils fluttering as he dragged you a little closer to him. That terrible, beautiful grin didn't leave him.

"My silent little human minion," he purred; his breath wafted over your face, the smell of woodsmoke heavy in your nose. "I've been thinking a lot lately, you know.... about you. About us. About what could be..."

"Wh-what can I do for you, sir?" Your voice quivered and you could feel your throat bob against his hand when you swallowed; his not so subtle implications were making you dizzy.

He hummed, bringing his free hand up to drag his claws through your locks. "I want you to tell me about me. I want to know what a mere human like you thinks of the great Lord Bowser - and I want your true feelings, got it?" he growled quietly. "You've seen more of me than even Kamek is privy to, and I demand to know why you stick around."

You resisted the urge to let out a sigh; he was just fishing for compliments, thank God, despite his thinly veiled threat. If you actually told him the truth, you feared you'd end up dead. Not that you really had bad things to say! Bowser was just a little unpredictable sometimes.

You brought your hands up to lightly rest them over the one that held your throat, but you didn't try pulling away one way or another. That seemed to confuse Bowser, his head tilting to the side as his grin slowly faded.

"Well, sir," you murmured, slowly relaxing, "even though you desire to dominate other kingdoms and crush your enemies... you still seem like you would treat your allies well. I mean, look at me: I'm a lowly maid, but I get paid well and I feel relatively protected on the occasion things get a little... ah, rough. As fierce as you are... I don't feel like I need to fear you, exactly. Which is a good thing as your employee."

Bowser's pupils dilated slightly as he seemed to consider your words. You just hoped they were honeyed enough to appease him instead of set him off, but either way you'd find out in a few seconds.

"...That ain't all, is it?" he finally huffed. "I know you got more opinions on me than that political shit you just spouted, so tell me. Promise I won't get mad." And then he gave you the best puppy dog eyes you'd ever seen.

Oh, heavens help you. There was zero reason for this koopa to be so.... cute.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and then practically blurted out one of your deepest feelings about him: "Sometimes you seem like you could use a real hug and a caring friend."

His jaw dropped as he stared at you in surprise. You stared right back at him, just as surprised that that's what came out.

The silence between the two of you stretched on until you couldn't bear it anymore and you finally turned around, chiming, "M-maybe I should get back to work-"

"Wait!" Before you could even blink, Bowser snatched you off your feet, holding you up in the air like he was afraid you'd try to run.

You blinked at him, a little surprised. "...Yessir?" you asked calmly despite the blush threatening to return. Momentarily, all he did was stare at you a little dumbly before recollecting himself a little.

"I-I, uh, just thought - I mean, if you wanted to give me a real hug, I'd - I'd allow that. And the... friend thing..."

Ah, you knew that code. He wanted a hug, but he didn't want to seem like he wanted it. Poor guy.

"...You know what, now that I think about it, I think a hug would be real nice. How about you let me know every time you're in the mood to allow me to hug you, huh?" you murmured. "And if you'd like me to-"

Bowser nodded, and without hesitation (or letting you finish) he held you to his wide chest, pressing your face right against it. Unfortunately your arms were pinned to your sides so you couldn't really hug back, but you could still feel some of the tension leak out of his body when he realized you weren't squirming or trying to get away.

"You know..." The vibration of his deep voice made your head buzz pleasantly, pressed against his chest as it was. "Between you and me, maybe Peach is just a siren trying to lure me into a false love, using her pretty face to keep me from seeing someone who'd really care about me..."

Since he couldn't see your face, you rolled your eyes. "Then does this mean you have your eyes suddenly set on someone else, sir?" you asked politely.

He set you back on your feet and crouched so that his face was level with yours, his large hands keeping a gentle hold of yours. "I don't know if "suddenly" is the right word... there's been a slow realization over a few years, but I suppose I'm finally ready to give up on Peach in favor of a more promising potential."

You smiled a little, daring to reach out; Bowser's eyes watched your hand as it fell gently on his nose. His pupils blew wide. Although you opened your mouth to say something, it was then that it dawned on you that Bowser wasn't actually crouching - he was kneeling.

"B-Bowser?" you breathed as, once again, your face grew hot with the intensity of your blush. But even as you stared at that adorably sweet face he was making, the sincerity and silent plea for some sort of consensual companionship was almost overwhelming.

"I'm gonna make you my bride one way or another... sweetheart."

#bowser #bowser x y/n #bowser x reader #super mario bros #ficlet #fanfiction #fanfic #I HOPE Y'ALL LIKED IT

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distantdarlings · 6 months

Text

WHAT FEELS LIKE FOREVER // t. nott (Multi-Part) PT. 2

RATING: R / 1.8K WORDS (Pt. 2)

Theodore Nott x Reader-Insert (No gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - Your first performance in America starts off roughly. Theo makes the decision to perform a song you wrote. The only problem is that you wrote that song for him, attempting to express your feelings towards him. He was never meant to find it.

+ WARNINGS - Language, tension, angst, eventual smut

+ MUSIC (Listened to while writing) -

Big Black Car - Gregory Alan Isakov

(Small note before I begin: I have been very inspired by Gregory Alan Isakov while writing these chapters and sort of imagined the band sounding like his music and Theo's singing voice sounding like his. Just wanted to mention that so y'all could be on the same page of imagination as I was if you wanted! :) Enjoy!)

---

Theo’s lips spoke the words you had written down in a small journal. Written—unbeknownst to him—for him.

The day Theo had caught you whispering the lyrics as you nursed an alcohol-stained cigarette beneath the stars, was the day the song had been discovered. Theo loved it instantly and demanded the two of you wrote the rest of it together and record it. You had kept your mouth closed for fear of a dry throat and a clenched heart saying things you truly meant.

Now the whole world knew how you felt when even you didn't know how you felt. It wasn't an ideal situation in the slightest and the knowing glances Mattheo and Enzo shot you made you feel even worse.

"Everything you do…," you harmonized with Theo, hearing the way your breaths mingled through the amplifiers. Your chest ached with the dull knife of holding tears in. This song always fucked you up. How you’d begged Theo not to record it…

"...changes how I see us, how I saw us then…," your voice cracked under the pressure of the tears you were suppressing. Theo gave you an odd but worried glance. You swallowed thickly, looking down at the instrument in your hands, focusing on that rather than your screw-up and the sobs that pushed rapidly up your throat.

You finished off the chorus successfully, having stared at the lights trained on the stage until the tears receded. This was your last song…or it wasn't…you couldn't remember and you didn't care. You swiftly slipped the strap of your bass off your shoulders and set the instrument down on its stand.

If you didn't get out now, you would explode. The heat and the lights and the crowd and Theo and Enzo and Mattheo—it was too much. You pushed through the backstage door and felt the autumn air abuse the sweat on your neck. Your hands spread over the balcony, holding your weak back up. The tears that threatened to spill rose in your throat once more. You hurriedly loosened your tie and unbuttoned the top button of your shirt, ripping the suit jacket off along with it. It was so stuffy in there and the cool air felt like the touch of an angel.

Your head hung between your shoulders, feeling them shake with each sob that racked your body. The roots that had planted in your heart burned like a hot poker in your sternum, scorching through your ribs and skin from the inside-out.

You cried out at the pain caused by a single man and the way it felt to be without him. You needed to tell Theo how you felt but the fear of animosity coming from him scared the hell out of you. The thought of hatred any deeper than their normal arguments made you feel like you were dying.

The desire to feel Theo’s hands on your body was more than anything you’d ever felt in your life. It wasn't just a sexual thing. It was something much deeper than that and had been for a very long time. You feared his reaction more than death at this point. But you wanted—needed—to tell him.

The backstage door opened much gentler than it had when you had come out. You could hear shoes scraping against the concrete and light exhales. You recognized the pattern of them, knowing the way Enzo breathed.

"Hey," the man said quietly, placing his hand on your back. His presence seemed to invoke a sense of tranquility almost instantly. Your cheeks dried and the pain alleviated a bit.

"Enzo, I—"

"I know."

You shut up at this. You knew that he had known for a while now, it just felt odd speaking openly about it. It felt wrong but he seemed to make it alright.

"I don't know what to do…," you whispered.

"You will."

There were no more words after this. Only Enzo’s hand on your back and his gentle breathing that soothed you like a lullaby.

× × ×

When the group arrived back at the hotel—still, no words were spoken. Enzo’s hand no longer touched your back and his breathing was too far away to hear.

Theo did not look at you once and your neck ached with the weight of the older's coldness. You could taste the bitter mood on your tongue and you tried to swallow it, but it remained. The aftertaste seemed to be stronger.

The silence became almost suffocating once you had stepped through the door to your hotel room. You shut it and collapsed against the broadside of it, sliding the length of your spine down its surface.

You brought your knees to your chest and buried your face between the two of them, covering your ears with your arms. Radio static and honeyed oatmeal voices rang in your head at a deafening volume. You sighed at the aggressive cacophony within your brain, wishing desperately for it to stop.

You had to tell Theo—that much was obvious. But how? If you were going to get practical, you’d technically already told him. You’d confessed when he had found the song. But the older man hadn't known this.

You pulled himself from the floor and approached the cream telephone that sat menacingly on the bedside table. Your breathing picked up uncomfortably, making a bit of panic set in. Your fingers closed around the receiver and you brought to your ear. You called the front desk and asked for Theo’s room number. Your heartbeat echoed in your ears at the anticipation.

"Who's this?"

"Um…Theo, it's me."

"Oh," the voice on the other end chuckled. "I thought you were some crazy fan or something. What's up, love?"

"C—" you choked on your words, your throat swelling as if a pillow had been shoved down it. "Can you come to my room, please?"

There was a silence on the other end that lasted only a few milliseconds. It was most likely Theo hearing the question and making a decision, but it felt like years to you. The fingernails on your free hand creased into the flesh of your palm so deeply you could've sworn you were drawing blood.

"Yeah, sure thing," he spoke. "I’ll be right over. Do you want me to bring my pillow?"

"If you want," you said, a breath of air slipping past your lips in delighted relief.

"Alright," he whispered into the phone, the crackly connection making it seem as if Theo was there next to you already.

The line went dead and, still, you stood there, with the phone pressed to your ear. It was as if you were waiting for him to come back and tell you he was just kidding. That he would never help you out or stay with you.

Your throat felt tight again. but the feeling did not remain when there was a knock at your door. The phone slipped from your fingers and clattered against the dresser, dangling against each individual drawer.

You made your way to the door and pulled it open—perhaps a bit too harshly. Theo waited on the other side with his pillow tucked beneath his arm. He was already in his night clothes—the same trousers and shirt as this morning on the beach.

"Hey," you spoke breathlessly.

"Hey," he replied, equally breathless as if he had run the whole way here. Your stomach tingled at the thought of him hurrying as fast as he could to see you. It made you feel as warm as if he had just wrapped you in a blanket.

Theo stepped in and threw his pillow on your bed, collapsing against the old mattress right after it. He made himself comfortable, slipping his feet beneath the duvet.

"I have to take a shower, okay?" you said.

"Of course—I'm not your mum," he chuckled which made the younger suppress a smile.

"Okay."

You made quick with your work of grabbing your night clothes—the jumper and trousers you wore this morning—out of the dressers and exiting the room. You walked down the hallway to the communal showers at the end of it. You didn't like having to share showers with strangers but you reckoned it was better than nothing.

The shower was quick and hot and steamed up the bathroom fast. The moisture in the air filled your lungs and made it somewhat difficult to breathe. In an effort to get out of the suffocating room, you dressed quickly and hung your towel around your neck.

When you arrived back into the room, Theo had drifted off. His eyes were peacefully shut and his body was curled around his pillow like a child to its mother. Your chest ached at the small tells he seemed to have that always compared him to a young boy.

The duvet had been pulled up to his waist and tucked messily. He looked comfortable.

You smiled softly and ran the towel over your hair once again, attempting to dry it a bit more. You threw the used material in the corner of the small closet and made your way over to the bed.

As gently as you could, you slipped beneath the heavy duvet and laid on your side, watching over Theo. You watched as his body rose and fell with stable breaths.

The older's eyes fluttered and he found yours. He was suddenly awake and glancing around.

"Oh, I'm sorry…I didn't mean to nod off like that," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. "What did you want to talk about, love?"

"Nothing, it's alright. Go back to sleep," you smiled, reaching over to pat the top of his hand.

"No, you wanted to talk, let's—"

"Really, Theo, go to sleep."

The older looked unsure but also incredibly tired. He sighed and leant his head back against his pillow. He seemed to be physically fighting sleep, trying his hardest to stay awake for his friend.

"Go to sleep," you whispered once again. You continued to watch as the young man drifted off again, his fingers curling around your hand, seeking subconscious comfort.

You stared at the two of your hands before slowly turning it over. You entwined your fingers with his, marvelling in how they looked together.

"I love you, Teddy," you whispered to your sleeping love. You wondered if he was awake in the slightest and whether or not he'd heard. If he had, he said nothing.

You watched as the man's lips trembled under the weight of his dreams. You decided that you should probably go to sleep as well. You all had a big day tomorrow and you knew well enough that the man lying next to you was going to paint your dreams with gorgeous devastation.

Part 3!

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #harry potter smut #slytherin #x reader #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #story #chapter 2 #gender neutral reader #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #alternate universe

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huntingingoodwill · 1 year

Text

waterloo! (t.s.)

masterlist

send in requests for my 1.3k sleepover 💕

requested by: @notyour-valentine (tysm bb!)

pairing: 1970s! au tommy shelby x reader

“Hurry! It’s about to start!” You whined, impatient.

You stood outside your front door, watching Tommy take his time rummaging through his pockets to fish out the keys.

“ABBA!” You exclaimed, perfectly in sync with the host.

The cameras cut toward the band and you cheered, squealing as the opening riff of Waterloo kicked into life, the lively twang blaring through the room as you turned up the volume. The music exploded from each slam of the piano keys, and you watched excitedly as the singers appeared on screen, glittering in their costumes as they lifted the microphones to their lips.

You hummed along, nodding your head to the beat. Tommy slowly made his way into the room, having swung his suit jacket over his shoulder, his tie hanging loosely around his neck. He watched you, happily nodding your head to the music, splayed out on the ground in your best dress.

“This is what you made us leave early for?” He chuckled, a little incredulous as you nodded your head, eyes not breaking away from the screen for a second. “I don’t get why you like this band so much.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What’s not to love?”

“Their outfits for one.” He remarked, voice dripping with derision.

You squinted at the screen, the sequins of their jumpsuits glittering even through the grainy footage.

“I quite like the outfits. You could do with a pair of those.” Your nail clinked against the glass as you pointed at Björn’s boots as he teetered on them, the towering platforms making his svelte body rise into the air like a skyscraper.

“Not my style.” He muttered, the soft click of his lighter sounding out behind you as he settled into the couch, the smell of tobacco filling the air as he took his first puff.

“I still think you ought to try it, people might actually listen to you once you’re taller.” You teased. He leaned down, swatting you affectionately on the leg. “Well, there’s more to them than the outfits. I quite like this song in particular.”

“Why’s that?”

You tossed a coy smile over your shoulder. “It reminds me of us.”

“Really?”

You rolled over, getting up on your feet again. Your hips swayed to the rhythm as you held your hands out to Tommy. He took hold of them, allowing you to pull him up from the couch. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bobbing from side to side, getting him to dance with you. He did so, a little begrudgingly, but soon, his steps fell into the rhythm of the music, an amused smile dancing across his lips.

“Listen to the lyrics, darling.” You smiled, plucking the cigarette from his lips and taking a puff for yourself. “When I met you, I was convinced I wouldn’t cave into you.”

“In what sense?” He replied.

“Well, I knew I was done for the moment I saw you, but I wouldn’t let myself fall in love with you. That, and I wouldn’t let your Blinders take over my territory.”

“Sorry about that. Had I known a girl as lovely as you was the leader of one of my rival gangs I would have taken a kinder approach.” He chuckled, extending his arm and twirling you away from him, pulling you back in once more as the two of you stepped across the room. “But I was persistent.”

“You nearly shot me.” You laughed.

He shrugged. “Persistent. I was persistent after that too, sending you flowers everyday.”

“My office reeked of roses for three months.” You shot back, voice shaky with laughter.

“But I won you over, eventually.” He smiled, proud of himself, even now. “The territories… well, they’ve been 50/50 ever since our wedding day, so I consider that a win.”

“Oh, you won.” You conceded as he spun you around once more, making you feel giddy with joy. “You certainly defeated me.” You grinned, echoing the lyrics as the two of you turned to gaze at the TV, swaying from side to side.

“Promise to love you, forevermore!” You sang along with a cheesy dramaticness, holding your balled fist to your lips like you were performing with all your might into a microphone.

You held the invisible mic to his lips, watching as he rolled his eyes, silent as the girls on TV sang on.

“C’mon.” You laughed, nudging him.

“Knowing my fate is to be with you.” He muttered bashfully.

You cheered, pulling him close.

From that day on, whenever Waterloo came on, no matter time nor place, the two of you would dance. It was an odd choice, to everyone around you, your intimidating statures melting away at the first opening keys of the bright, cheery song. But how could you resist? It was your song, after all.

#tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby blurbs #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fics #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders imagine #bbc peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #70s au #70s! peaky blinders

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kaldurahms-lover · 11 months

Text

Cardigan

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem Reader (version of jason isn’t mentioned but i wrote it with his original storyline death from Batman: A Death In The Family, not a later, retconned version)

Warnings: angst but also fluff, reader is a famous singer, use of Y/N, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, lmk if i missed any), swearing, makes references to other songs (Lover by Taylor Swift, Lucky People by Waterparks, and Favorite Record by Fall Out Boy), i reread this like 8 times but i couldve missed things so don't flame me if theres any fuck ups in there lmao

Word Count: 4,175

A/N: (yes i know cardigan is part of the teenage love triangle songs, yes i made it into somewhat fluff because i fucking wanted to, whats it to you? I was just listening to cardigan (by taylor swift if you were unaware) in the shower and had this beautiful idea of like what if rather than it being about getting cheated on, i make it about the reader experiencing Jason’s death (and resurrection)? also i color coded the dialogue which is something i normally don't do soooo fun little touch i guess.)

IMPORTANT NOTE: Italics mean it’s a flashback, bold and bigger means it's a song lyric, regular text means it's happening in real time. (with very obvious exceptions) Cool? Cool. also, real quick, THE FLASHBACKS ARE NOT IN PERFECT CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER!!!!

“HELLO GOTHAM CITY!” The crowd roared in excitement. Y/N was excited too, it was her first show in Gotham in a long time. This was her first tour in a long time. Of course, she let the public think that it was just because she was a teenager focusing on school, not because when she was 16 her first love the love of her life had been brutally murdered…

“It’s really nice to be playing a hometown show, and since this is my first one in forever, how about I play you something brand new?” Screams erupted in the audience, people pulling out their phones to get the first recording of a brand new song.

“This one means a lot to me, it’s about someone very special to me, and how he came back to me when I needed him most. This is a quieter one so I'm gonna need you all to listen, and please don’t judge me if I cry during this. Alright, this one’s called ‘cardigan’ everybody!”

Rows and rows of people buzzed with excitement as the music began to play.

Vintage tee, brand new phone

Y/N and Jason walked in, strutting about as if they were models in the new vintage tees Y/N had bought for them at the thrift store just days before. They strolled about the mall, eventually making the stop to get Jason a new phone, he had dropped his from a rooftop on patrol the night before. Oops.

“Jay, baby, you can’t just use Bruce’s credit card without asking all the time” Y/N smiled, knowing Jason wasn’t going to listen to her

“Says who? Besides, I told him I was taking it. If he didn’t want to pay for me to get a new phone, he should’ve given me a secure pocket in the suit for it like I asked.” Jason shrugged. He wasn’t atrociously rebellious at all times, but he knew Bruce had more than enough money for him to get a new phone, and to treat his girlfriend, and best friend, when he wanted to. “Plus, if I didn’t take his card, I wouldn’t be able to spoil you, would I?” He wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her temple as they walked out of the store.

High heels on cobblestone

Y/N’s heels clicked loudly against the cobblestone walkway as she made her way to the entrance of the Wayne gala, arm linked with Jason’s.

“Are you sure I look alright? I’ve never worn a dress this fancy Jason. Should I even be at a Wayne gala I mean–” Jason cut her off.

“Sweetheart you look perfect. And if anyone tells you otherwise I will personally ask Bruce to kick them out.”

“Jay you can’t do that.”

“According to who? I have adopted Wayne privilege and you’re the one who’s Bruce’s favorite”

“I am not Bruce’s favorite!”

“Yes you are princess.”

He dragged her into the gala, excited to spend a night with her, and after that, her first Wayne gala was nothing but history, as she attended every single one at her lover’s side.

When you are young they assume you know nothing

“That boy is a delinquent Y/N! I doubt you even know anything about him, has he even told you how he came to meet Mr Wayne?” Y/N’s father shouted. He’d never liked Jason, despite him being Y/N’s best friend for years before things ever became romantic. She used to be able to avoid it, but when her mom moved out of state for work and Y/N wanted to stay in Gotham… well this was her only option.

“Yes dad, I know how he met Bruce! You realize I knew him long before he was adopted by Bruce Wayne right? That I didn’t just go for him because he was rich? You assume because I’m young that I know nothing!”

“Clearly you don’t know anything if you would choose to be with a boy who is a thief! He tried to steal Mr. Wayne’s tires!”

“He was trying to steal them because he was living on the streets and needed money to fucking eat, Dad! Clearly you’re the one who knows nothing here!”

She stormed out of the house, furiously texting Jason and trying to will away the angry tears.

Sequined smile, black lipstick

Y/N grinned at Jason, her black lipstick fresh as they prepared to go to a party. Bruce had cleared Jason of Robin duty for the weekend and they’d decided to take time to enjoy being normal teenagers.

“What do you think?” She asked, still smiling

“I think… I’m really tempted to kiss that lipstick right off of you”

“Come do it then.”

Sensual politics

“Do you ever think about sensual politics?” Y/N looked up at Jason, her head in his lap as he read a book.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘sensual politics’?”

“Like the politics of being flirtatious or like building a relationship with someone, but like also kind of a play on sexual politics and people’s perception of the difference’s between men and women and the politics of it, you know? Like they’re both very different things but you can name them the same thing”

“And you’re calling that sensual politics?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“I wish I could understand what’s going on in that brain of yours, you’re such a nerd princess”

When you are young they assume you know nothing

“Jaybird if you hurt her I hope you know I’ll have to break your legs” Dick shrugged as if this was common knowledge.

“I won’t hurt her, Dickwad. She’s the best thing to happen to me.”

“Okay, but you’re young and stupid, anything could happen.”

“Just because you knew nothing when you were young doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

But I knew you

Years ago, Y/n was 11 and Jason was 10. Y/N was on her way home from the school when she saw someone she recognized.

“Hey! You’re the boy from the library! You showed me my favorite book!”

Jason flushed, unaware that she’d remember him, or that she’d take the recommendation he’d once given her seriously

“Yeah uh, hi. My names Jason, Jason Todd.” He stuck his hand out to shake.

She placed her hand in his and shook. "Y/N."

Dancin' in your Levi's

Y/N and Jason slow danced in her room, her record player spinning some old collection she’d snagged from Wayne manor.

“I was unaware that Levi’s were ballroom attire Monsieur.”

“And I was unaware your bedroom counted as a ballroom Mademoiselle”

Drunk under a streetlight, I

“Jason you’re drunk.”

“No I’m notttt. Please Y/N pleeeeaaassseee be my girlfriend.”

“You’re drunk Jay, if you weren’t then you’d remember I already am.” She laughed, watching her lover shoot up in excitement

“Really? That’s so cool!”

I knew you

"Y/N what do you think? Do you think he'd like this for his birthday?"

"Why are you asking me? You're his brother!"

"Yeah but you know him better than anyone else"

Hand under my sweatshirt

"Jason Peter Todd get your cold ass hands out from under my sweatshirt!"

"What do you mean princess?" He dragged his freezing cold hands further up her back

"Eek!"

Baby, kiss it better, I

Y/N carefully finished wrapping the bandages around Jason's waist.

"I can't believe you got stabbed!"

"Kiss it better?"

"Dork." She pressed a kiss to his bandages, before making her way up to his lips.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

“What’s got you down princess?” Jason quirked an eyebrow, the moment Y/N entered the manor there was an unhappy energy on her, like she was faking her smile. He knew her all too well. “Come here”. He opened his arms to her, gesturing that she should come lay with him on the excessively large couch (rich people bro) and she happily obliged, latching onto his side like a koala with her head on his chest.

“It’s just… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like an old cardigan, under someone’s bed. Just… forgotten.”

“I could never forget you. Sometimes people lose things that are important to them. If you’re an old cardigan then I’m finding you and putting you on because the whole time you were my favorite.” He pressed a kiss to her hair.

“How poetic” She could feel his chest shake as he laughed.

“What can I say? I’m a man of literature. Speaking of which! Do you want to watch Pride and Prejudice?”

“Again?”

“Yes, AgAiN”

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend, beaming. “Always.”

A friend to all is a friend to none

“You can’t keep acting like nothing is going on Jason. You love her, so why are you friends with someone like the asshole who ruined her reputation?”

“Dammit Dick, I didn’t even know that he was the one who did that until a week ago!”

“And you’ve hung out with him twice since then! A friend to all is a friend to none, Jaybird.”

Chase two girls, lose the one

Surely all of Gotham had heard them arguing from their favorite spot on the roof of the library.

“Jason I understand that you want to go meet your birth mother, but why does that mean you have to not be in touch for an undetermined amount of time? I don’t understand why finding her means leaving me!” Y/N hadn’t meant to shout. She wasn’t actually mad at him. She understood why he wanted to go, but that didn’t make him leaving hurt any less. Why should she have to lose contact with him, let him run off to another continent without any knowledge of if he was okay?

“Sweetheart I’m not leaving you, I’m just trying to find my mom…”

“Yeah, at the expense of me! Jay I will never prevent you from doing something this important to you but that will not change the fact that this hurts me. That I’ll be lying awake at night not knowing if you’re okay or if you’re even going to want me when you come home! Not even being able to ask Bruce if you’re okay because you plan on doing this without his knowledge! For fucks sake Jason do you realize how that would feel?”

“God dammit Y/N why can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Because you’re LEAVING ME. You know what, go ahead and go Jason. You’re choosing to chase two girls and you’ve lost this one.” She made her way down, trying not to let her hands shake from all the emotional turmoil, at least not until she was on the ground again. There was no way she would know how much she’d regret saying that to him.

When you are young, they assume you know nothing

“It’s your first heartbreak Y/N, you’ll get over it. It was teenage puppy love, something was bound to happen.” Her father had no clue. It had been days and she hadn’t heard from Jason. Last she checked with Alfred, Bruce had followed him out to the middle east somewhere.

“This was, this is so much more than that. You’re doing it again, assuming that because I’m young I must know nothing.”

“Clearly you don’t know anything.”

But I knew you

“When were you gonna tell me that you being a literature nerd was knowledge Dick wasn’t supposed to get his hands on?” Y/N gave him a look. The look that says ‘i didn't know this was a secret so you can't be upset i spilled’

“Shit princess please don’t tell me you told him… he’ll never let me live it down!”

“Oops?” She shrugged. He started to say something else but she kissed him before the words could escape. “It’s alright Jay, it makes you a romantic. And it means I know you better than him.”

Jason smiled. “I guess you’re right…”

Playing hide-and-seek and

“Do you wanna play hide and seek?”

“Sweetheart aren’t we too old for that?”

“Who said that? Come onnn"

“Y/N.”

“Hm?”

“You know I can’t say no to you.”

Giving me your weekends, I

“You know we don’t have to spend every weekend together right? You can hang out with your friends or your family if you want.”

“Why would I do that when I could give you all my weekends?”

I knew you

"How did you know to tell Bruce I wanted adjustments on the Robin bike?"

"Because I'm just cool like that. And i know you. Now come on let's take it for a spin!"

Your heartbeat on the High Line

Y/N pressed the side of her head to Jason's chest as a stranger took their photo on the High Line. The trip to New York had been spontaneous, something they'd decided to do for spring break.

After taking her phone back from the kind stranger and thanking them, Y/N turned to her dear boyfriend.

"I could hear your heartbeat you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you'd think it was our first date or something." Y/n grinned.

"Because you make me feel... I don't know, like Pip if Estella was actually good for him?"

"Did you just reference Great Expectations at me as a way of expressing your feelings?"

"Maybe?"

"Kiss me."

Once in twenty lifetimes, I

Y/N often thought of how her mother had once told her that true teenage love like the one she had with Jason only came once in 20 lifetimes. Although, in retrospect maybe it's twice in two lifetimes, or once in one, for the partner who didn't die.

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

"Would I still be your favorite person if I was a worm?"

"Well no cause you wouldn't be a person anymore, but you'd be my favorite worm-"

"You know what? I'll take it."

"You'll always be my favorite."

To kiss in cars

"Jason Todd you are a menace to society."

"What? How?"

"You brought me out to Bruce's Rolls-Royce to make out."

"So?"

and downtown bars

"Who would've thought the boy wonder had a fake ID?"

"Maybe his girlfriend who's cousin made it for him"

"What? Which one?"

Jason smirked at her, knowing it was going to eat her alive not knowing yes im projecting how nosy i am onto the y/n "Sorry princess, that stays a secret"

Was all we needed

You drew stars around my scars

"Jason it's just an old scar from scraping my knee a little too deep, it's no big deal!"

He continued drawing small stars around any scars he found on her, gently dragging the red marker along her skin. "I didn't say it was!"

But now I'm bleedin'

When Jason hadn’t come back, Y/N had done one of the only things she promised him she would never do: taking up vigilantism. She told Bruce it was only temporary. She told herself it was only temporary. But the longer she was in the game the more attached to it she became.

"FUCK!" Y/N yelped as she sat on her bathroom counter, pressing a damp rag to her wound, carefully wiping it off. "God dammit, I used to be patching up Jason's stab wounds, not getting stabbed..." She picked up her phone, dialing the only number she cared to call anymore.

"Yeah, Dick? Can you come over real quick? Need you to make sure this stab wound doesn't kill me..."

The audible "WHAT" echoed throughout the bathroom, despite the phone not being on speaker.

'Cause I knew you

"How'd you know I'd be here?"

Y/N found Jason at their spot on the roof of the library after Dick informed her that he'd had a particularly rough argument with Bruce.

"Because I know you better than anyone else."

Steppin' on the last train

Jason dragged Y/N towards the last train of the night, what they never knew would be their final date before everything went astray.

"Come on! The last train is the best one!"

Marked me like a bloodstain, I

The image of Jason, dead, being carried away by Bruce was forever marked in Y/N's head. He was dead. There was nothing else to say.

I knew you

Speaking at Jason's small memorial was never something Y/N saw herself doing.

"I uh- I really don't know what to say. You all always said I knew him better than anyone else, and I just wish I could've known the way to prevent this."

Tried to change the ending

Y/N tried so hard to change the ending of her story. Make it so she wasn't just the girl who lost herself in grief. But until unless she saw Jason again, nothing was going to happen.

Peter losing Wendy, I

As she sat there writing 'Cardigan' it occurred to her that Peter losing Wendy was a choice, and her losing Jason never was, but it fit. Their love was a magic only to be found in Neverland.

I knew you

"Hey Red, do I know you from somewhere in civilian life? You seem familiar..."

"No way, too new in town, sorry."

She knew she knew him. She just couldn't place why...

Leavin' like a father

Even though she'd told him just to go, Jason still stopped by Y/N's house before he left to find his mother.

"Please don't leave me Jay." She cupped his cheeks, pressing his forehead to hers as tears streamed down her face

"Don't cry baby, I'll be back before you know it."

Running like water, I

Of course, Y/N hadn't known the identity of the Red Hood the first time she'd spotted him. All she had time to think was wondering why such a large man, with guns nonetheless, ran from her like she was out to get him.

And when you are young, they assume you know nothing

"Why do people love to assume that because I'm young I must know nothing about love or heartbreak?" Y/N had asked one day. No one answered. No one knew, they only knew that they were all too aware of just how much she truly knew about both of those things.

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss

"I want a blue jay on my forearm. Full color. Can you do that?"

Y/N had walked into the tattoo parlor like she owned the place. She needed a way to let him permanently linger. The kiss of a needle in her skin the only way to physically represent him.

I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs

"What if I had made him stay?!"

"Y/N there's nothing you could've done that would change things."

"But what if—"

"There was nothing any of us could do."

The smell of smoke would hang around this long

"Thought you told me that you quit smoking years ago Red."

"Yeah, well, old habits die hard."

"Rough day huh?"

"Yeah. Girlfriend from before all this almost saw me in the library today. She doesn't know about me."

"About you being a vigilante?"

"She thinks I'm dead."

"You know, maybe I'll do this and be totally mistaken and realize im delusional, but I swear to whatever fucking god is listening if i tear off that domino mask and Jason Todd is under there I will be pushing you off this rooftop."

"If I've been hanging out with Y/N this whole time I'm throwing myself off."

'Cause I knew everything when I was young

Y/N was playing a show in Los Angeles, touring at age 15 was insane, but then again, she never thought anyone would listen to her music.

"Alright everyone, I may be young, but I also consider myself to be quite versed in romance, who knows, maybe it's my lovely boyfriend, or the fact that I'm a hopeless romantic, but either way, this one's called Favorite Record!"

Even at a young age, she'd known everything she needed to about love, because it encased her every moment she spent with her favorite person.

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time

She sat at Jason's grave in the Wayne family plot for more hours than she could count, swearing at his headstone

"God dammit! Why didn't you come home? Why didn't you come back to me?" Sobs wracked her body. "I was waiting for you to come home."

Chasin' shadows in the grocery line

Every once in a while Y/N would see someone and think someone was him. Maybe it was her brain's sick way of coping. She reached towards the stranger in front of her.

"Excuse me-"

But when he turned around Jason was gone. It was just another high school boy who had vaguely reminiscent hair.

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired

A knock came on Y/N's bedroom window. She opened it warily before the Red Hood came clinking in.

"Thrill of letting me think you were dead over?"

"Y/N please-"

"Did you sit and watch as I grieved? Stand by while I lost my mind because I thought I'd lost you?"

"Sweetheart just let me explain–"

"Don't fucking 'sweetheart' me. Get out. Get out of my fucking room."

And you'd be standin' in my front porch light

"Get off my damn porch Jason." He was standing in civilian clothes, shuffling his feet nervously as if he was a little kid again.

"Not until you let me explain!"

"Fine. You get to come in for five minutes. See if you can explain to me how there is any way you can justify this."

And I knew you'd come back to me

Y/N sat with her jaw slack in shock after hearing Jason's story. How saying he died wasn't even a lie, how he'd been brought back, the madness he'd experienced, the resentment for nobody killing the Joker. (she flat out told him she would've if she thought she could do it without getting herself killed in the process)

"i'm such a fucking asshole."

"No you aren't"

"No you went through this whole traumatic experience and I've just been a dick to you!"

"And it's been totally justified! You should've been the first person to find out I was back. Honestly I'm surprised Dick or Bruce didn't tell you..."

"I'm going to ignore the urge to castrate both of them and just be happy you came back to me."

You'd come back to me

"I'll always come back to you."

And you'd come back to me

"Make sure you come back in one piece?" They were on the same mission, much to Jason's dismay, but they had to be split up.

"When have I ever not come back to you?"

"...."

"Don't answer that."

And you'd come back

They'd made it out of that atrocious mission. It all worked out in the end but it certainly had taken longer than they planned.

"hey, you came back in one piece, just like I asked."

"I always do, just for you."

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan

Under someone's bed

You put me on and said I was your favorite

Y/N heard Jason coming in. His duffel bag clunked loudly against their closet floor, and she assumed he changed out of his gear at a safehouse before returning to their apartment. She flipped over the edge of the blanket, making room for him to crawl in bed with her. Once sufficiently comfortable behind her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist, Jason spoke.

"Hey Y/N?"

She turned around in his arms so she could face him. "Uh oh, you didn't call me any kind of pet name, just my name, whats up?"

"Nothing I just... I just wanted to let you know you're still my favorite."

The tears were flowing freely by then. The audience screamed, cheering at the sweet song. “My favorite person didn’t get to be around for a while, but… he came back to me, and that’s all that matters. Now that's enough crying, I’ve got some much more fun songs, ARE YOU READY GOTHAM CITY!?” And with that, the show went on.

Hours later, Y/N made her way backstage, where she was immediately enveloped by the arms of a mystery man. She wasn’t scared though, she knew who it was. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he spun her around.

He sat her down gently, beaming. “You wrote a song about me?” “Jay… baby a lot of my songs are about you.”

“What?”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you managed to not know that even though I’ve told you before.”

“I just assumed you weren’t serious!”

“... You really think that Lover or Lucky People or Favorite Record, could have possibly been about anyone else?”

“And if I just like hearing you say it?”

“Then I’ll tell you forever.” When their lips met, it was a promise, one that this, this feeling in this moment, was real, and that it wouldn’t ever go away, because they knew everything when they were young.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #the red hood #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd angst #red hood angst #oh how i love this man #need to marry him NOW

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every-aj-needs-an-angel · 10 months

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wishing the wonderful @flowercrowngods the happiest of birthdays 🥳🫶🤍 fair warning this quickly turned from 5k to 10 🙈 i hope it's not too boring 🤞 i tried my hardest to give you the angsty fic you asked for but i don't think it's my forte 🤷‍♀️ anyway happy birthday darling i hope you're having the best day 🤍

Steve's birthday started the same as all his birthdays had for as long as he could remember now; waking alone in his big old, empty house. Not that he could say he minded. His first ten birthdays had been pretty perfect, but his eleventh birthday changed everything. The only thing he'd asked for was a birthday sleepover with Tommy and his new school friends. It was all going amazing until late into the night, he and Tommy were laid awake, Tommy was telling him about how he was nervous to kiss Carol for the first time, when somehow, in a way Steve couldn't really remember, one of them had ended up suggesting that they practice together.

They'd snuck off to the airing cupboard across the hall so their friends wouldn't see, what they hadn't considered was getting caught by Steve's parents. His mum hadn't said anything, just left quickly, leaving his dad to glare at him with that creepy polite smile he always had whenever Steve was going to get it as soon as they were alone. And he had, as soon as the house was empty, his dad yelled and yelled and yelled; about how kissing boys was unacceptable, how it was a sin, "Harrington's are family men, Steven!" A direct quote from the serial adulterer.

It went on for two whole days, and then they never spoke of it again as though it'd never happened, but Steve wasn't allowed another sleepover nor was he allowed over to any of the other boys houses; which was how by his late teens he only had Tommy and Carol left as friends, they were the only ones who truly knew what went off in his house. And his birthday's hadn't been a big deal ever again, half the time his parents hadn't bothered to even be in the country; not that it made any difference to Steve, a birthday without their presence and constant judgement was already a happier day.

His alarm clock blaring pulled him from his musings back to the present. Not that he'd really needed the alarm, he rarely slept these days; it was more like a series of naps interspersed with part memories, part overactive imagination-induced night terrors. He poked an arm out of the covers, flicking the switch on the clock, yawning and stretching; feeling the pull on his freshly healed wounds. Clambering out of bed and scratching lazily at the stubble on his jawline as he headed into the en-suite; flicking on the stereo as he passed by just for something to fill the void.

Holding Back The Years was just beginning, as it often was these days. The one nighttime DJ who'd bothered to stick around seemed to think the song said "holding back the tears, because nothing here is gone." Idiot! The moron had some whole elaborate deluded idea that the song was some kind of metaphor to do with living with the aftermath of the quake or something, repeating the same nonsense every morning like if he kept saying it his theory would become true.

Steve, however, had actually listened to the lyrics and recognised Mick (Hucknall) as a kindred spirit. He heard the pain of a child longing for parents that loved him, felt the pain for his younger self deep in his soul. He'd long since accepted that he'd never have that, that they'd had him solely for their image and let him go as soon as he didn't fit, but the song tended to just rip open the wound every time he heard it.

He turned on the shower, biting down hard on his lip to stop it quivering, testing the temperature with his hand and stepping under the spray. He knew they weren't worth being upset over, but it didn't take much to tip him over the edge these days, and he was very much hoping, as he had every morning, that this ritual he'd started would wash away the deep-seated sadness that he seemed to have stuck in his chest since the day they'd fought and lost.

In a weird way his life was better now, sure he had flesh eating creatures and an alternate universe, but he also had people who loved him, people who appreciated him and depended on him. The scars of his shitty past didn't matter any more, not in the face of actual scars, not when the monster hunting them down was still out there, not when the people he loved needed someone to protect them.

He made quick work of washing his body, still gentle around his wounds. Eddie's exquisite sewing skills had more than done the trick at the time but all the strain he'd put on his body getting the five of them out of hell had ripped new holes into his skin and made a bigger mess than the bats ever had; it was only when he collapsed in the ER that any of them had even noticed he was bleeding again, the nurses had patched him back together, but his body was still tender.

Just as he was shampooing his hair, the song changed again, only just about hearing Cyndi Lauper over the patter as he applied his conditioner. "If you're lost you can look, and you will find me, time after time", fresh tears quickly blurred his vision. Max.

They'd been told off for the fifth time about having too many people visiting at once, Wendy threatened to never let any of them step foot in the building again, and they believed her too, just as the adults who still had jobs and needed to work had finally accepted that the kids could be there to be with the wounded in case they woke up. Nancy had sighed heavily but resigned herself to the job, not that it had taken her long to set up a visiting schedule; ten minutes of leaning over bits of paper with visiting times, days people could chauffeur, work and volunteer schedules, working out who could sit with who and when and she'd had it all figured out.

They were just getting into the swing of things when El had snapped, hurling a plastic chair into the hospital wall, blood pouring from her nose, sucking in breaths like she'd just run a marathon before actually running from the room. Steve hadn't seen it happen, just heard the commotion through the wall and came running. No one had wanted to go after her; Mike, Dustin and Lucas all looking between each other like they were psychically discussing who'd drawn the short straw.

Steve didn't bother to wait to find out what they'd decided, he'd just chased after her, finding her curled up in a ball in the corner of the corridor. He hadn't known what to say at first, "are you okay?" seemed like the dumbest question ever given the state of her. Plus he'd seen the two of them together when they'd had their day trip to the mall, he knew she was far from okay. He'd just knelt down beside her and wrapped her tightly in his arms when she'd mushed her face into his chest, stroking her back and rocking her slowly.

Using his well versed technique of 'What Would Robin Do?' he asked what had happened. She just looked up at him with big sad eyes, a sob catching in her throat, her face crumpling as she'd broken down. Telling him that she couldn't find Max, that she'd been trying ever since she'd restarted Max's heart (with her mind!) but that she couldn't find her. She'd made him promise not to tell the others and as soon as he agreed, she'd promptly burst into uncontrollable sobs before he'd even had a chance to ask what that meant. All he could do was hope that Max wasn't either gone forever; or worse, stuck with One, enduring unimaginable torment.

The song had changed again as Steve switched off the water, stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel securely around his waist. Switching on the tap to run a bowl of water and grabbing the shaving foam and his razor from the medicine cabinet; glancing as quickly and as efficiently as he could in the mirror, doing his best to avoid his own reflection. He knew he looked rough, he didn't need confirmation. The scars around his neck were gnarly, his eyes were bloodshot with thick black bags underneath, his hair limp and uncared for, obvious even fresh from the shower. Ugh!

He let Billy Ocean's soulful voice wash over him, focusing on making neat lines in the foam and trying his best not to nick himself. It wasn't a song he'd heard before, but he liked it, the tune was gentle, he found himself swaying slightly, waiting with the razor poised, "I always stop and think of you especially, when the words of a love song, touch the very heart of me". Huh!

He forced himself to focus on the task at hand, he was going to be late if he didn't get a move on and the less he thought about love songs making him cry, the better. The song ended, and the DJ signed off letting the commercials play. Steve headed into his bedroom, half-heartedly blow-drying his hair just enough to stop it dripping down his collar, throwing on his jeans and sweater.

Flicking off the radio, he jogged down the stairs, clicking the red flashing button on the answering machine as he passed the telephone table on the way to the kitchen to throw some bread in the toaster. The last time he'd seen Joyce, she'd made him promise that he'd eat, so he was eating, dry toast wasn't his favourite thing in the whole world, but it was nourishment.

Beep. "Dingus!" Robin whispered into the phone, causing Steve to grin, "it's one minute past twelve, so I can officially say Happy Birthday! Okay, that's all I wanted. See you later, love you." Beep.

Beep. "Steve-o! Happy Birthday! See you later, man!" Beep. That kid, Steve thought shaking his head fondly to himself.

Beep. "Happy Birthday, Steve!" El mumbled, she barely spoke these days. He felt honoured. She was quickly interrupted by Hop, "Is that Steve?" he asked, "No, just the machine," she responded followed by sounds of the receiver being passed from one person to another, "Happy Birthday, kiddo, we'll see you later, okay?" Beep.

Steve couldn't fight the lump in his throat, he tried to swallow around it, but it wasn't going anywhere. They were just… he didn't have the words. It meant so much that they'd thought of him. That Robin had snuck out of bed, had probably sat up by the phone until the clock struck midnight to make sure he knew she was thinking of him. She really was the best friend he'd ever had.

And the kids! Dustin calling was probably what had woken him. He didn't know when he'd decided on Steve-o as a nickname, but he liked it regardless, it made him feel like one of the gang instead of just the babysitter. With El, Steve wasn't sure whether it was a teenage phase or not being able to find Max, but he'd barely heard a peep out of her since her breakdown, he just hoped it wasn't the latter, so they wouldn't lose both girls to this fight.

He pressed replay, warmth filling him as he listened to Robin's message again. He missed her terribly when they weren't together, and he'd seen less and less of her recently. She'd basically been on house arrest since the "quake" and given she wasn't ready to tell her parents what she'd told Steve whilst high on truth serum, Mr and Mrs Buckley basically thought he was about to become their son-in-law.

Unfortunately, it meant he couldn't sneak over to her house to sleep any more like he had after the mall and the one time Robin had snuck out to sleep at his, her dad had been so worried he'd called the cops. Luckily, Hop had been the one to get the call, sighing heavily when he'd picked her up from the McMansion (as Steve's house had been dubbed by the kids) with a "Sorry kid, but her mom's practically hysterical. Come stay at the cabin, get a good night's rest."

For once, Steve had done as he was told. The Party was tighter than ever, but there were still the few with families who got caught on the edge's that kept the group from becoming a totally codependent pack. None of them slept well any more, not without being curled around one of the others. Robin and Dustin had it bad, unable to explain what was going on and trapped by parents who loved them too much to let them out of their sight, but Steve thought Erica had it the worst.

Lucas was out of his mind with worry over Max, her parents were holding her tighter than ever and her best friend had moved away. She couldn't use sleepovers as an excuse to escape her family's grasp like Robin and Dustin could, she was having terrible nightmares, lashing out and blaming everyone for the state of Max's health, Steve just wished she’d let it out properly before she exploded. He'd tried to get her to once, used one of Robin's new psychology tricks but got nothing out of her but some sassy comment and a glare.

His toast popping out of the toaster dragged him out of his musings, tucking the dry, warm bread into a napkin, he grabbed his keys off the hook and headed out to the car. The sun was barely in the sky, but it was already unbearably warm, he was glad to be spending the day indoors. He liked being out early, the world seemed almost peaceful before the rest of the town had a chance to get out of bed. Normally he'd drive without the radio on, just with the window rolled down, letting the breeze finish drying his hair, enjoying the sounds of the world waking up, the birds singing, the wind rustling the trees, the roar of the beemers engine, but that damn song had turned into an earworm, just that little bit of melody and "saying I love you, I love you" whizzing around and around his head.

He sighed and flicked the radio on, the funky beat of Kiss making his head bounce, only being able to resist for a second before he was smacking the steering wheel in time with the beat. Steve couldn't think about much else with Prince singing in his ears, the sun beating down on his arm that dangled out of the open window, warming him as he bopped along. "I want to be your fantasy, maybe you could be mine. You just leave it all up to me, we could have a good time!" Steve hollered along, catching the attention of old Mr Baker, who was bent down collecting his paper as he sped by. He smirked at the old man's face as he caught him grumbling in the rearview mirror, making Steve chuckle.

The song was just ending as he pulled into the parking lot, it was always blissfully empty this early, just the cars of the staff and the overnight visitors. He threw the car into park as Let's Hear It For The Boy started, he contemplated sitting in the car just to listen, but he knew the song well enough, and he was edging ever closer to being late. Steve found he almost had a spring in his step as he switched off the engine and clambered out of the car, being careful as he crossed the road, the peppy tune well and truly stuck in his head.

He waved to Edna at the front desk as he headed for the stairs (no way was he getting in a lift ever again, not after the last time) hearing Deniece Williams clearly in his mind as he turned the corner and all but hopped up the staircase, muttering "Maybe he's no Romeo, but he's my love and one man show, oh oh oh oh, let's hear it for the boy!" pausing on the step to wiggle along to the music in his head. One of the nurse's smirked at him as she skipped down the stairs, passing him with a giggle. Not that he minded he'd been reliably informed he was a good dancer, it did make him wonder if maybe he was finally losing it though, taking the rest of the steps two at a time, shaking his head trying to clear it. This is a hospital, for god's sake! What’s wrong with you?

Drifting quickly down the corridor, Steve gave a quick nod to Nurse Wendy, she was one of Owens’ and seemed to find the hospital environment rather alien, she didn't appreciate anything other than cordiality and silence while she worked. Sliding open the door, Steve found Wayne sitting as he always was in an uncomfortable plastic chair by Eddie's bedside; chatting aimlessly to his nephew and yawning every few words.

He, Dustin and Steve had become close over the past few weeks, each taking turns to keep Eddie company. Wayne hadn’t wanted Steve anywhere near his nephew at first, not that Steve had been surprised by his reaction, hurt maybe but unsurprised. Wayne had relented when Dustin had regaled him with Steve’s “heroism” but Robin had been the one to convince Wayne that Steve was their friend, that he wasn't the dickhead jock who'd stood by and done nothing as Tommy had made Eddie's life hell; and that he was certainly nothing like the elder Harrington. Wayne had relented quickly, had warmed to Steve faster than he'd ever dared to hope, now he thought Wayne might even like him, just a little bit, even if it was because as Wayne put it, "well, at least you've got better taste in sports than you had in friends".

"G'Mornin'" Steve greeted, once Wayne finished with his tale. His stories were amazing, at first he’d started with just random tales but eventually when they realised it was going to take longer than any of them hoped for Eddie to wake, he’d started as far back as he could remember and was just slowly retelling his whole life story. Steve thought he should write a book, his life was fascinating and the more he listened, the more it was obvious where Eddie had got his storytelling abilities.

"Mornin'" Wayne returned, stretching his back before standing with a creak and a groan.

"No change?" Steve asked, looking over to Eddie's pale, sleeping form.

"No change," Wayne confirmed with a sigh.

Steve hummed, just watching Eddie for a second, hoping for a twitch, a flicker, anything really. Just any sign of life that he'd been praying for since cracked ribs and a ten minute repeat of “one and two and three” and screams to “drive faster!” Eddie didn't move, not more than the slow rise and fall of his gentle breathing that hadn't changed since he got out of surgery; Wayne did though, patting Steve on the shoulder as he passed by him with a quiet "G'night, son," successfully snapping Steve back into the moment.

He turned quickly to catch Wayne on his way out, a fragile smile on his face and a lump forming in his throat, "Night, Wayne. Drive safe," Steve pleaded quietly. Wayne was as much one of them as Eddie was now, and the last thing any of them needed was more heartache. Wayne nodded with a slight smile, closing the door with a quiet snick, the noise kicking Steve into action; he rounded the bed picking up the tattered copy of The Hobbit off the bedside table and landing heavily in the still warm chair and flipping the book open in his lap.

Wayne might be a natural storyteller but not Steve, his childhood stories were either sad or stupid, but none of that mattered because here in this little cold side room all Steve could think was a repeat of please wake up.

He was taking his first shift of watching over Eddie when he'd first spotted the book sticking out the top of the bag Wayne had brought for Eddie when he’d heard he was in the hospital. Honestly, Steve thought it looked like more of a go bag; Max’s bag was full of pyjamas and a dressing gown and slippers, a soft toy or two and some of her comics. Eddie’s bag was full of clothes, at least four pairs of jeans, a couple hoodies, a winter coat, underwear and cassettes. And the book, of course.

Steve wasn't much of a reader, he’d always hated assignments at school where reading an actual book was necessary, but he couldn't stand the silence, and he couldn't think of anything to say and Owens had said the best thing they could do was keep talking to him so he'd started to read. He was rubbish at it, stumbling every few words and making humming sounds every time he came across a word he didn't know or couldn't pronounce, but it filled the silence and given how dog-eared the pages were it was obviously a favourite of Eddie's, so he could only hope it was bringing him some comfort, wherever he was.

"Good morning, Edwin. How're you feeling, hmm? Comfy? It's a lovely day today, blue skies and green leaves, it's gonna be a warm one. It's my birthday, you know? Robin left a nice message, and the kids too. I wonder if I'll get a cake? I've never had a birthday with real friends before! I don't really know what to expect, but you've had your little club for a long time, you'd know, maybe you could wake up and tell me, hm? That'd be nice. No pressure though. How about we read some more? I quite like this book. I've never really had a favourite book, not since I grew out of the Mr Men ones anyway, but this one's good. Let's see where were we?"

Steve got as comfortable as he could on the crappy hospital furniture, flipped to the page he'd marked with a cafeteria napkin and began to read, letting the words flow over him and paint a picture of a group of disparates on an adventure together. He thought they were sort've like The Party, none of them really fit together either, not on paper anyway, but somehow it just worked; they, too, each had their own strengths vital for their collective survival.

It saddened him in a way to think that if none of the Upside Down stuff had happened, that he wouldn't have any of this. As fucked up as this was right now, with Eddie and Max still unconscious; to not be called Dingus, or son, or Steve-o, that’s just not a life he’d want. Nor would he want a life without a platonic soulmate or a whole gaggle of little siblings. Without two mums and two dads, none of whom were biological, but parents in all the ways his never were. Without three older siblings in Argyle and Jon and Nancy because it wasn't half as weird as they all expected it to be; because none of them were those people any more. Those stupid teenagers were long dead, the shit they’d been through together far stronger than any hormonal teenage dickheadery.

He especially wouldn't want to be without an idiot who doesn't listen when Steve says don't be a hero because he also loves Dustin; because down to a choice of himself or their little brother he would always put himself in the firing line and as much as Steve had raged that Eddie was a dumbass, as soon as Robin had twisted it around, Steve hadn't been able to honestly say that he wouldn't have done exactly the same thing.

That didn't mean he didn't wish he could trade places with Eddie, didn't mean he didn't wish they'd had more time to get to know each other, didn't mean he didn't spend every spare second thinking about that walk to the Wheeler's, didn't mean he couldn't stop wishing Eddie would wake up, didn't mean he didn't hope for something more he could do to drag Eddie back into consciousness, just to hear his voice one more time, didn't mean he didn't wish he'd stayed with the boys, didn't mean he didn't yearn to know what Eddie had meant to say in that pause before he'd said "Make him pay!"

Steve realised he'd stopped reading, flicked over the page and picked up where Bilbo was imagining summer in his home, the same type of summer that was streaming through the hospital window, bathing Eddie’s sickly form in warm light. Steve hoped that wherever Eddie was, that he was somewhere happy, maybe he was berry picking with his uncle or playing with his band, maybe he was rough housing with Dustin while Steve and Robin watched on.

He hadn't dared to ask El if she could find him, he couldn't bear to think they were both stuck somewhere unreachable, he wasn't sure his heart couldn't take it.

He swiped roughly at his damp cheeks, swallowing hard, wiping the pages dry and smiling waterily at the group finding shelter and finally relaxing, creating smoke rings and thinking of Eddie doing the same thing at the last party they'd both been at. All the girls had gone wild and Steve chuckled to himself, knowing now that this book full of mythical creatures was where Eddie had probably got the inspiration, knowing how many hours Eddie must've taken to perfect his technique, knowing the girls who'd oohed and ahhed, knowing that most of them had never read a book in their lives, it was just funny.

That was until it all went to shit for the allies; Steve read faster and faster, hoping that they'd make it safely out of the tunnels, thinking of the tunnels he'd fought in with the kids, remembering that moment he'd thought he and Dustin were toast, still able to feel the Demodogs racing by them. Then Bilbo was falling, and suddenly he was as unconscious as the boy in front of him.

Steve sighed and shifted, leaning the book against Eddie's too still leg, he never thought he'd miss someone's nervous energy but even when Eddie had been still and quiet his leg would still always bounce, or his fingers would drum, it used to drive him crazy back in school, he used to wish the other boy would just sit still, mainly because he was struggling to concentrate, and the constant movement was a distraction, but now he longed for some form of movement, anything to add to the consistent rise and fall.

Steve would usually keep the book up in front of his face so that lack of anything wasn't quite so obvious, but his back was aching and begging to be stretched, so Steve leaned his elbows on the bed either side of the book, propping his head up in his hands, trying to read the words faster in some bizarre hope that if Bilbo survived the pitch black alone that Eddie might too. The Gollum creature just was creepy, with the hissing and the glowing eyes and calling himself precious, it didn’t endear itself to Steve when Bilbo started a back and forth of riddles with it, the narrator commenting that because the reader was comfortable that the answers were somehow obvious.

“Not obvious to everyone,” Steve muttered mainly to himself, “I bet you knew these the first time you read them though, didn’t you Eds?" he asked just for something to say while he found his place again.

"No," muttered so softly and raspily it was almost inaudible, Steve's head snapping up to look at Eddie's face.

"Eddie? Did you speak, or have I finally lost it?" Steve asked disbelievingly. Eddie didn't speak again, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, puffing out a breath that could've been a laugh, immediately sucking one in through his teeth, hissing in pain.

"Wendy!" Steve screamed, jumping up and slamming the red button on the wall, only realising as he did that he'd wrenched his fingers from Eddie's grasp. Leaning his elbow by the side of Eddie's pillow, Steve peered down at him, placing his hand back into Eddie's, "Can you hear me, Eds?" he asked gently. Eddie made a rumbling sound followed by a quivering lip and a whine. "No, no. Don't try to talk, man. Can you squeeze my hand?" Steve asked, running his fingers carefully through Eddie's now sweaty hair, brushing it away from his face and neck. Eddie squeezed his fingers hard, choking a laugh out of Steve as his throat tightened, only realising he was crying when a tear splashed down onto Eddie's cheek, an intense feeling of relief and joy sweeping over him.

Steve had just enough time to wipe the moisture from Eddie's cheek before all hell let loose, nurses and doctors bustling in, Wendy gently removing Steve from Eddie's bedside but not from the room. His mind was racing, unable to really grasp onto anything, just watching detachedly as the professionals adjusted wires and tubes pressing buttons on machines, taking liquids from bottles with syringes and all Steve could think was that he was glad Wayne wasn't there to witness the chaos.

And all of a sudden, it hit Steve like a freight train. Wayne. He needed to know, but Steve was terrified that if he left the room that he'd wake up back in his bed, that Eddie wouldn’t have woken and that they’d be back stuck in the limbo that he might never wake. Steve glanced at the clock, knowing by the time that Dustin and Lucas should be next door watching over Max; it was unusual that they hadn’t come to check on Eddie, but if there had been traffic they just might not have had time.

"Dustin!" Steve yelled through the wall, one of the nurse's turning to snarl at him with a tut, obviously for being loud, but Steve couldn't have given less of a fuck, he just pulled a face at her behind her back when she turned back to Eddie.

Dustin slammed into the room in less than a few seconds, clocking the chaos around Eddie and looking to Steve with wide, frightened eyes.

"He's awake, call Wayne," Steve instructed, Dustin didn't argue, didn’t fight the grin splitting his face either, "The plant or yours?" is all he asked. Steve was so grateful for this kid, glad in that moment that his little brother was a fucking genius. "Mine," Steve didn't even have time to finish the word before Dustin was gone from the door frame.

There was a bit more hustling around the bed before slowly but surely the nurses and doctors started to file back out, leaving Owens and a once again unconscious Eddie.

"What did you do?" Steve raged, his voice so low and hard it was hardly recognisable even to his own ears. Owens at least had the good sense to approach slowly, hands up and placating, except Steve couldn't hear him over the blood rushing in his ears, panic and fury blurring his senses.

"...ve, Steve, Steven!"

His eyes snap from Eddie's form where he'd been desperately watching Eddie's chest rise and fall, to Owens, who swallowed visibly and took a step backwards.

"We didn't do anything, Steve. I know he's been asleep for a long time, but it's going to take a while for him to get used to being awake again. He's just resting right now; healing like he's supposed to. Now he's regained consciousness, his chances are much better. We're not out the woods yet, but we're a step closer, okay? I'll check in again later, alright?" Owens said calmly as he backed out of the room, leaving Steve alone to nod to himself.

Steve didn’t know how long he stood there nodding to himself, the next thing he acknowledged was Dustin crashing back into the room, all but ready to throw himself at Eddie. Steve quickly stepped between them, blocking Dustin’s path. He parroted everything Owens told him and only allowed himself a breath when Dustin grinned toothily. And Steve, even though he couldn't quite believe what just happened, couldn't help but grin back.

"What a birthday present, huh?" Dustin teased, as he headed out the door back to Max's room.

Steve's hands landed automatically on his hips, yelling after him to shut up, even though he could hear Dustin cackling and feel his own cheeks burning, fucking smartass.

He sighed, mentally arguing with the kid, desperately trying to come up with a response for next time, when Wayne came dashing in; Steve suddenly felt guilty for disturbing him, but he had promised he'd call if Eddie even so much as twitched. He repeated to Wayne what had happened in as much detail as he could remember, Wayne's smile growing and growing until it looked like his face might split in two, he grabbed Steve around the head and kissed him firmly on the forehead with a relieved “Thank you.” Steve’s brain shorted out when Wayne pulled him into a hug, all he could do was blink owlishly at the wall until his brain kicked in, and he wrapped his arms around Wayne purely on instinct, Wayne squeezing him tight before letting him go.

He insisted on staying, much to Steve's dismay given the poor man had already been up all night and that he couldn't have had more than a few hours sleep, but he just waved Steve off, merely reiterating that he can sleep anywhere, that he'd been in the army, snd that he didn't need a cushty bed.

Wayne had only caved about staying at the McMansion after the third or fourth day in that godawful chair, and then he had bemoaned that beds that comfortable should be illegal, that he'd been spoiled for life; Steve had just mentally renamed the spare room "Wayne's room", he knew Owens was sorting them some new accommodation, but he was kind of hoping he and Eddie would choose to stay.

The house had never felt emptier since his parents phone call, they hadn't even tried to get a hold of him really, they'd just left a message saying that they'd heard about the quake, requesting he give them a call to let them know if there'd been any damage to the property, so they could claim on the insurance. Steve had nearly thrown the answering machine at the wall. Robin had just sighed, told him she didn't know why he continued to let them disappoint him when he had all the family he'd ever need. He knew she was right, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He hadn't bothered to call them back, and he hadn't heard from them since.

Wayne went down to the phones to call in sick then folded himself into the bedside chair, the one that was technically meant for patients, not that any of them had dared to use it for fear that they’d get too comfortable and nod off and miss out on any changes, but Wayne trusted Steve to wake him, he just wanted to be here to see his nephew. Steve couldn't blame him.

He gently placed his plastic chair back next to the bed, he hadn't realised he'd flung it across the room when he'd jumped up earlier. Both Munson's were sleeping peacefully and although a little piece of Steve's soul had settled, he still felt jittery in the almost silence. He grabbed the book back from the night stand, unsure as to how it'd ended up there, flicking through the pages trying to see where he'd last got to.

He propped the book back against Eddie's thigh, tucking his feet under his chair and resting his elbows on the edge of the bed. Originally, he started off reading to himself, not wanting to disturb either of them. He found he could actually read quite quickly to himself, and got through a whole chunk of the story just muttering commentary on the story to himself. But eventually, his eyes started to get tired, and he just started mumbling along with the story, trying desperately to stay awake.

"How the fuck are you supposed to say that? Eye-ry, ear-ry, err-ry, I don't fucking know, I'm not entirely sure what that's even supposed to be," Steve muttered with a sigh.

"It's their nest," Eddie whispered, rasping and hoarse, tightening his grip on Steve's fingers, where he'd once again been absentmindedly stroking up and down Eddie's hand while he read.

Steve sat up straighter, so he could reach the glass of water with a straw that'd been left on the table, pressing the straw gently against Eddie's lips, "Hey, you," he said softly, "only sips, Eds, or you'll make yourself sick," he murmured putting the glass back on the side when Eddie let go of the straw.

"Thanks, man," Eddie murmured and sighed, sinking back into the pillow. Steve turned to give Wayne a nudge when Eddie squeezed his hand hard, "Don't," he pleaded. Steve hesitated but found he couldn't deny Eddie anything and was rewarded with a soft smile when Steve turned back to him, "He okay?" he asked.

Nodding, Steve ran his thumb over the back of Eddie's hand, "Yeah, we're taking good care of him," he promised.

Eddie hummed, tried to smile again, but it was obvious how much effort it was taking, "'nd Dust'n?" he mumbled, eyes drifting closed.

Steve couldn't help smiling to himself, "Next door, watching over Max."

Eddie's eyes sprung open, "Not Red?" he whined, big brown eyes sadder than Steve had ever seen them.

"'fraid so. She'll be okay though, she's a fighter like you!" Steve muttered, determination lacing his tone because he believed you had to believe something wholeheartedly if you wanted it to go your way.

Eddie let out a little sceptical huff, eyes already closed and breaths evening out. Steve was just about to go back to reading quietly when Eddie made a little incoherent noise. "Hm? You need something, Eds?" Steve asked quietly, standing to lean over him, brushing his hair away from his face where it'd got stuck to his cheek when he'd turned to look at Wayne.

"'m sorry," Eddie murmured, trying to open his eyes, Steve just huffed out a humourless laugh, sitting back down.

"Nah, man, got nothing to be sorry for," he muttered, swallowing around the lump in his throat, "Go back to sleep," he whispered, stroking the back of Eddie's hand rhythmically. Eddie listened this time, whether through choice or sheer exhaustion, Steve didn't know, he was just glad Eddie was resting.

Steve took a deep breath, scrubbing his spare hand over his face, he didn't know what was wrong with him today. Eddie was fine, he was on the mend, there was no reason to be upset, yet he couldn't stop the tears rolling down his cheeks. He wasn't sad exactly, it all just felt like too much, all the previous weeks of worry, the lack of sleep, the constant stress of it all going to hell again before they even had chance to recover. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder, Dustin tended to pop in at lunchtime to give Steve a chance to get some lunch and stretch his legs. But being met with those big concerned eyes just tipped the scales in the wrong direction, he grabbed Dustin round the middle and pulled him into his arms.

"What's wrong?" Dustin whispered, rubbing Steve's back soothingly, which just made him feel all the more guilty because he was supposed to be the strong one for the kids, not the other way around.

"Nothing," Steve murmured, sucking in a deep breath and coughing around the lump in his throat, pushing the feelings as far down as he could, letting Dustin go with a pat on his shoulder, "Nothing, I'm fine, everything's fine," he lied.

Dustin obviously saw through it but didn't push him, just demanded a Coke from the cafeteria as Steve got up and headed for the door, making him laugh. Steve loved him so much, especially when he was a little shit.

Heading straight to the bathroom, Steve splashed cold water on his face, leaning on the sink and looking at himself in the mirror. It'd been years since he looked this rough, his hair floppy and dry as hell, black and bloodshot eyes from the lack of sleep, even his skin wasn't quite the colour it was supposed to be but eating dry toast in your car and crappy hospital sandwiches will do that, he supposed.

He sighed heavily, pushing off the sink, he headed to the cafeteria, grabbing lunch for the four of them and Dustin's Coke, picking up a Diet one too just to annoy him with, in the hopes his moaning and whinging would buoy him for the rest of the day.

Steve bobbed in to eat lunch with Lucas and spend some time with him and Max like he always did, before heading back to relieve Dustin. Lucas barely wanted to talk these days, just wanted to continue to read to Max in the hopes that she could hear them.

Knowing what El had told him just made him feel guilty, but he’d promised he wouldn't say anything and given there wasn't anything else he could do for her, in the very least it was making Lucas feel useful. If anything Steve thought he sounded a little more annoyed than usual today, but he didn't dare to ask, he just put it down to the fact that Eddie had come back while Max was still lost.

Wayne was awake and chatting with Dustin and Eddie when Steve got back. They all looked tired, but they were smiling, even if they did have tear tracks down their faces. Steve didn't say anything, just squeezed Eddie's foot as he passed by him handing Wayne and Dustin their lunch, who as suspected kicked off about his drink giving them all something to giggle about until he pulled out the red can, the petulant look on Dustin’s face making the three adults in the room laugh harder.

Eddie soon fell back asleep, then after they’d eaten Dustin went back to Max and Wayne decided he was going to find some decent coffee, which was code for he was going for a smoke. Steve sighed as everything settled down again, back to the normal they'd settled into over the past few weeks, except he felt free now to get comfortable in his chair resting his head on his folded arms on the side of the bed. He told himself he wasn't sleeping, just resting his eyes, but Robin made him jump when she came bounding into the room.

"Happy Birthday, Dingus!" she yelled, waking both him and Eddie with a start.

"Jesus, Bobs, shh," Steve chastised, trying to soothe Eddie back to sleep by rubbing his thumb across his knuckles where their hands had yet again ended up connected.

"Sorry," she muttered, not sounding sorry in the slightest. It'd been her way of trying to wake Eddie and Max, blasting into their rooms all loud and full of energy, like a kids entertainer at a birthday party.

"Mornin' Edwin, done sleeping?" she teased, waggling his toes, Steve knew she wanted to hug him, but Eddie's legs were the only place he hadn't been bitten, and she didn't want to hurt him like she had Steve when they'd finally got Eddie to the hospital, and she'd all but thrown herself at him; he'd hissed involuntarily, and she'd cried for an hour even though the pain had gone before she'd even had chance to let go.

"Stop tiring him out, he's supposed to be resting," Steve grouched, reluctantly letting go of Eddie, standing up to grab another plastic chair for her to sit beside him at Eddie's bedside.

She tutted and rolled her eyes dramatically before all but flopping into the hard chair, making Steve wince on her behalf. Now he'd sat back in his chair he didn't know what to do with his arms, it felt weird to reach across and take Eddie's hand, folding them over his chest felt too confrontational, letting them flop by his sides felt weird, finally settling on placing them in his lap.

Robin was just watching him amusedly, "So, having a good birthday?" she asked with a smirk. All he could do was narrow his eyes at her, Wayne was back and watching them knowingly, trying not to smile.

Steve looked between the two of them before shrugging as nonchalantly as he could manage, "Better than last year," he answered not half as blasé as he would've liked, it wasn't exactly a lie given anything would've been better than last year when everyone had forgotten.

Robin just hummed thoughtfully, leaving them in uncomfortable silence. She'd been a nightmare since she’d started reading psychology books; she was worried about their collective mental health and wanted to have constructive ways to help, but it seemed to Steve that she was just using everything she was learning to torture him.

"How's your mom and dad?" Steve asked, trying to deflect onto a new topic.

"They're good," she replied, letting the silence linger, glancing at Wayne with a playful smile.

The silence was deafening, it made him want to babble endlessly and at the same time say nothing at all, just out of sheer stubbornness.

Luckily, he was saved from their torture by Mike, El and Will, the three of them came in every day to check on Eddie before going to see Max; which Steve thought was sweet given Mike was the only one who actually knew Eddie. He just knew Eddie was going to adore Will, they were like peas in a pod, and he couldn't wait for them to meet properly.

"Dustin said he woke up," Mike said as though that was his excuse for being there, not that it was something as wild as him caring whether Eddie lived or not.

"'m here, y'know," Eddie grumbled, making Mike's whole face light up.

"Eddie!" Mike cheered, heading towards him for a hug.

"Careful!" Steve yelled automatically, Mike pausing mid-step to glare at him.

"I know!" he snapped, carefully placing his hands either side of Eddie's shoulders and leaning gently into him.

"How're you, man?" Mike enquired, purposefully ignoring everyone else in the room, while Steve purposefully ignored Wayne and Robin's knowing gaze.

"Not dead!" Eddie teased, finally prying his eyes open, looking behind Mike at Will and El who waved warmly. "Hi," Eddie croaked, Mike grabbed the drink off the bedside and placed the straw against Eddie's lips.

"This is El and Will, y’know? The ones I told you about," Mike reminded him, focusing on the water leaving the glass.

Eddie just hummed, releasing the straw, doing his best to smile at the newcomers, his eyelids drooping.

Steve had already had enough, Eddie was supposed to be sleeping so he could heal, "Alright, you three, he needs his rest. Visiting's over. Out! Go harass Dustin!" Steve demanded, standing to physically shoo them out the door while Robin and Wayne giggled.

"Don't make me throw you out, too, Buckley!" he threatened, pointing at her with a hand on his hip as the door slid shut behind the kids.

She lifted her hands placatingly, with a delighted smirk, "Here, sit. I've brought your gift," she announced, gesturing to his chair.

Steve couldn't help the endeared smile splitting his face; he hadn't had a birthday present in a long time, his parents just added money to his account, he had no other family, and he hadn't got one from a friend since Tommy.

Robin reached into her bag and pulled out a rectangular box wrapped in blue paper, "It's not much, and I know nothing could top waking from a coma," she muttered rolling her eyes playfully in Eddie's direction, "but I hope you like it," she added with a soft smile.

Steve felt his lip quiver again, biting on it hard enough he tasted iron. He didn't care what was in the box, well he cared, he just didn't mind if the box was the present, he already had the best friend in the whole world, what else could he want. He smiled gratefully at her, hoping she could see without him needing to say it, before tearing off the blue wrapping and lifting the lid.

As soon as he saw what was in the box, tears started to fill his eyes, blurring his vision, no amount of self-control would be able to stop the wave of gratitude for the girl in front of him.

"Sorry it's a bit homemade," she mumbled as he continued to stare at his gift. All Steve could do was shake his head, a smile on his face even as tears poured down his face, tugging her into an awkward hug over the box.

"It's the best," he whispered, releasing her to stare down in awe at his present again. It was a picture frame, but inside was all bits of their friendship; a few Polaroids of the two of them, a napkin from Scoops, their name badges sitting side by side in the middle, tickets from the Star Wars movie they went to see together, quotes from songs they loved written on Family Video receipts, the dried flowers of the daisy chain he'd made her while they were hanging out in her garden, the matching friendship bracelets they'd bought from that street artist when they'd gone to Indy last year and immediately lost, newspaper clippings of a game they'd both played at, a little picture of Kermit the frog. 'The Band Geek And The Jock' written across the top of the frame in bubble writing, and 'Platonic With A Capital P' written across the bottom.

He felt the sob hiccup out of his chest, too overwhelmed to do anything to stop it. Knowing it was the most thoughtful gift he'd ever received, he wondered how he was even supposed to begin to thank her.

Looking up at his little miracle, he saw her watching him with sad concerned eyes, "You can just say if you think it's awful," she joked, making a tearful laugh burst out of him.

Shaking his head, he swallowed hard, "It's wonderful. You're wonderful. How'd I get so lucky, huh?" he asked rhetorically pulling her into another hug, "Thank you," he murmured, hugging her tighter, wanting to snuggle into her neck but not wanting to get snot on her top or in her hair, he let her go.

Eddie whined, demanding their attention. He was awake, watching him and Robin with the softest fond expression, opening and closing his hand like Holly used to when she wanted something. Steve automatically placed his hand in Eddie's causing a choked little sound to come out of the three of them, only for him to realise that Eddie probably wanted to see the frame, his cheeks flushed crimson and just as he was about to let go, both Robin and Wayne put a supportive hand on either of his shoulders, starting up a conversation between themselves about the latest conspiracy theory to be printed in the local paper.

Steve stayed perfectly still, afraid of breaking the moment. He'd never felt safer, more loved or supported as he did right then, than he had in his entire life, and it was almost bizarre how these three random people he'd barely known a year ago could give that to him so easily. Eddie squeezed his hand gently, blinking owlishly with a soft smile. Steve gently lifted his present onto Eddie's stomach, so he could see it, he tried to lift his other hand up to touch the frame, but it was proving too much, drifting off again with his dimples on display and a gentle hum.

Taking the gift back and placing it carefully back into the box to keep it safe, placing it on the bedside with The Hobbit knowing he wouldn't miss it there when he headed home later. Robin was still deep in conversation with Wayne, telling him about her grandma's worries about their safety after the "quake", Steve already knew that she wanted them to move away, Robin had called him in a panic when she'd heard her parents discussing whether they should.

He caught Robin's eye and gestured to the door, slipping out when she smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. Slipping the door shut behind him, Steve hurried towards the bathroom, he just needed a minute, but a familiar curly head of hair was already pushing open the door. Turning on his heel, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor, he headed toward the exit only to bump into Wendy giving Sam an update on Max. The breath was coming shorter and shorter in his chest as he blindly opened the nearest door stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him; sliding down the painted wood to the cold floor, knocking his knee on a bucket because by some streak of luck, Steve found himself in the janitor's closet.

It was all just too much and the thing was none of it was bad, everything was so, so good, the nicest present he'd ever had, Eddie waking up after what felt like forever, the love and support of the people he now classed as family. He had no idea why it felt like there was an elephant sitting on his chest or like he'd had a rock semi-permanently lodged in his throat since he'd woken up. It just hadn't really felt real until now, the few nice dreams he had had been of Eddie waking up or him never getting hurt in the first place, of waking curled around each other, of Eddie smiling at him the way he had in the RV, the way he had on their walk to the Wheeler's house, the way he used to in the cafeteria.

And he hadn't really needed to deal with the feelings those dreams had brought up until he'd put his hand in Eddie's, and they'd all made that okay. With Eddie, it'd be possible to blame the drugs he's being pumped with to keep him comfortable, but Steve knew that Wayne knew his nephew, knew that he knew what others had only suspected for as long as he could remember. And he knew Robin knew him, as well, if not better than he knew himself sometimes. Hell, even Nancy had suspected when he'd offered to be by Eddie's bedside whenever he was needed; she'd just looked at him the same way she looked at any puzzle and then had pencilled him into every gap without question and with an accepting smile.

Hugging his knees to his chest, he focused on righting his breathing, taking slow purposeful breaths, wiping his face and focusing on the objects around him until he felt he could breathe again. He'd spent so long pretending, so long trying to be someone he wasn't, trying to be the perfect Harrington that dealing with feelings when they arose and the shame he felt in feeling them in front of others was hard but when his breathing settled, it was like he could breathe easier than he had in a long time, despite the chemical stench inside the cupboard.

Climbing slowly to his feet he crept out of the small space and headed to the bathroom to wash his face, splashing cold water onto his cheeks felt nice, and somehow his reflection felt easier to deal with than it had this morning, sure he still had scars and dark circles, his hair was still horrendous, and his cheeks were puffy but for once looking at himself in the eye felt less like a lie.

Once he was calm and dry, Steve wanted to check in with Sam, the guy had been a group favourite since he'd come charging into the hospital demanding to see his daughter and he seemed to like all of them too, appreciated that his little girl hadn't been left alone for a single second. He'd been wary of Steve at first, he thought it was weird that an older male was hanging around a bunch of kids, sitting with his baby, but the other parents seemed to have got through to him in a way the kids hadn't been able to that Steve was their babysitter, that they trusted him with their kids lives.

Hop and Joyce had been the ones to really affix in Sam's mind that Steve wasn't a threat, and the two of them advocating for him after all they'd been through over the years, felt amazing, he finally felt like one of the group once Joyce had wrapped her arms around him, thanking him for all he'd done; for keeping them safe, for walking into battle when he didn't have to. Hop had just put a hand on his shoulder and asked "Y'okay kiddo?" letting Steve fall into his chest with the relief that he wasn't dead, that finally the grown-ups were there, because as much as he had spent his youth wanting to be older, wanting to be away from his parents, so he could do whatever he wanted, it felt like a relief that a real adult would be in charge from now on.

He knocked and entered when Sam shouted for him to come in, smiling a small smile at Steve and carrying on with the book he was reading aloud as Steve sat on the plastic chair next to him. "How's she doing?" he asked when Sam finished the chapter and closed the book; Wendy always gave more info to the grown-ups than she ever did to the kids.

"The same," Sam sighed, stretching out the muscles in his back from being hunched over the book, "Happy Birthday," he added with a genuine smile, "Dustin wouldn't shut up about it. Lucas looked 'bout ready to kick his ass!" he told Steve with a laugh.

"Thanks," Steve murmured, he hadn't come in to talk about him, but maybe Sam just needed to think about anything else for five minutes.

He told Sam about the gift Robin had given him, Sam smiled wistfully, "Susan used to make me things like that," he muttered fondly.

For once, he didn't have it in him to correct Sam's assumption, just asked "Oh, yeah?" Let Sam tell him stories of his and Susan's courtship, of their happier years together, if nothing else Steve hoped Max could hear them, thought it might please her to know that her parents were happy once, that they had loved each other and her.

It was a while before Robin poked her head around the door with a "err, Steve?" her smile a little uncertain even as she waved at Sam, who jostled Steve playfully and waved them off with a small smile picking up his book and continuing to read to Max.

"What was that about?" Robin asked bemusedly.

"Eh, nothing. What's up?" Steve asked tiredly, it'd been a long day and as much as he hated to leave, he was about ready to curl up in bed.

"Nothing, Eds was just asking for you," she murmured, turning into Eddie's room, letting Steve follow lazily to find…

"SURPRISE!" everyone cheered, and by everyone Steve meant everyone, he was honestly surprised that they all fit into one room. Wendy was going to lose her shit.

"C'mon Dingus," Robin sighed, dragging him further into the room, "This is your party, no use standing in the doorway!" she chastised playfully leaving him at the foot of Eddie's bed where he was looking a hell of a lot more awake and had a sheet cake laid out across his shins because godforbid they used the table like normal people.

Dustin was finishing lighting the candles with Wayne's lighter, then made little conductor hands at the group, who all jumped into a chorus of 'Happy Birthday'.

Steve didn't know what to do with himself, he just stood there awkwardly, smiling gratefully at every person in the room. They were all there, the Wheelers and little Holly, the Sinclairs, Claudia, Hop and Joyce, Argyle and Jon and Nancy, the kids all smiling at him encouragingly, dare he say it lovingly.

He hadn't been sung to since he was a boy, he couldn't help feeling emotional, a tear escaping down the side of his face when Dustin and Erica wrapped an arm each around his middle, another tear splashing down into Dustin's curls as he looked down at them both wrapping his arms around their shoulders. The singing eventually stopped and Wayne muttered that maybe he should "blow out the candles, before there's more wax than frosting" making them all chuckle.

He released the kids and bent over the foot of the bed to do as he was asked when Robin yelled, "Don't forget to make a wish!'

A wish?! Looking around the room, at friends and family gathered for his birthday, at the pile of presents sitting in the corner of the room, at Robin's gift and the tattered old book and Eddie's tired but smiling face. There was only one thing missing from this picture, something he could only wish would be different in the next year.

Some wishes in life you know will come true, like putting your hand in someone else's and them tightening their grip, like going to hug your best friend when you're snotty and disgusting and them hugging you back, like a kiss on the forehead or a hand on your shoulder, like Hop's was as Steve looked bewilderedly around the room, warm and protective.

Some wishes though you had to hope for with your whole chest, some wishes were just that, but as he looked at El and Lucas he knew he wasn't the only one wishing with his whole heart as he took a deep breath extinguishing all the tiny flames to a round of applause.

Nothing could make his birthday more perfect than having his little sister by his side again, but this right here, with sleepy eyes and sibling support and more loving parents than any kid could ever dream of, with his soulmate who he has no doubt orchestrated this whole event in a hospital room, this was as close as they could get to perfect for now.

#happy birthday my love #please take ten thousand of my silly little words as a token of my appreciation #i tried for angst but i think i just made steve cry a lot 😂#i'm so sorry about my grammar i know it sucks #steve harrington #the party #eddie munson #wayne munson #robin buckley #pre steddie #sorta idk #steddie #maybe #steddie-ish #i guess #platonic stobin #aj writes

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mothgardens · 3 months

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“You’re Losing Me” By Taylor Swift is THE later season Destiel song, specifically from Castiel’s perspective.

If somebody has already said this then… uh, uh, uh- :3

Immediately, the first lines suit the two of them SO well:

Dean not understanding why he and Sam were set up for the fate that they were: Michael and Lucifer, Cain and Abel 2.0, Angel and Demon. Cass was there to tell him that he doesn’t always get it either. Take the bench scene from 04x07 for example:

“You misunderstood me, Dean, I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town.”

“I’m not a hammer, as you say, I have questions; I have doubts. I don’t know what is right or what is wrong anymore.”

Cass was always willing to explain and guide, even in times when Dean had lost almost all hope. He and Dean used to appreciate the world for its beauty and delicacy. Now it’s over and Cass sits in The Empty (the dark).

Dean became so complicated and angry as the seasons progressed. He was always so contradictory and Cass kept getting confused and lost. He got kicked out by Dean and barely even knew why. He didn’t know if everything they had become had been tossed out.

He kept rising from the ashes metaphorically and literally. Metaphorically, when he was kicked down by Dean (or anyone for that matter), he would get back up and continue to help the Winchesters for the greater good. He was stronger than he got credit for.

Dean’s anger and isolation made it nearly impossible for either Cass or Sam to communicate with him. He turned them away, got angry, broke things, drank too much, or acted plain arrogant. Eventually Cass was getting fed up (rightfully so).

Cass and HIS CANON GLARE- when he gets so angry that he glares instead of speaking because that spoke louder. Because he knew Dean wouldn’t listen to a damn word he would say.

Dean once called him a brother, but now he said that the only constant in their plans ‘s downfalls seems to be Castiel:

“The plan changed Dean, something went wrong, you know this, something always goes wrong.”

“Then why does that something always seem to be you.”

All Cass wanted was to talk, instead Dean turned it into his fault completely and blamed him for things out of his control (Mary, Jack, Rowena…).

Their air was always thick with loss off hunters, loss of battles, loss of hope. It was full of indecision of how to move forward when all possibilities seemed like dead ends.

Each time that they were in a situation that they felt stuck in Dean would be mad. Dean would take that anger out on Cass as if his presence at all was an imposition.

Dean never realized truly how much he loved Cass until Cass was gone to The Empty, for good.

THIS BRIDGE WAS FUCKING WRITTEN FOR THEM AND I WILL NOT ACCEPT A DENIAL OF THIS STATEMENT ‼️‼️

They were THE sad song for ELEVEN years. Eventually when Dean almost killed Castiel’s son in front of him, that pushed Cass over the edge. That was enough. Cass had given him everything. Cass rebelled against heaven for Dean, he lost everything for Dean. He dealt with Dean’s hot and cold temper for YEARS without complaint, only compassion.

“AND ALL I DID WAS BLEED AS I TRIED TO BE THE BRAVEST SOLDIER !! FIGHTING IN ONLY YOUR ARMY FRONTLINES DON’T YOU IGNORE ME”

That lyric IS Castiel. Prove me wrong, you can’t.

Cass always wanted Dean to just see him, and in the glimpses Dean did, Cass was his happiest. But, as the seasons progressed Dean stopped outwardly appreciating Cass at all. All he showed him was frustration and anger.

1. “Do something, babe, say something” is versatile. Early season Dean would say it to early season Cass. It is also 15x03 Cass saying: “I tried to talk to you over and over again, but you don’t care. I’m… dead to you.”

2. “Lose something, babe, risk something” Early season Dean to early season Cass.

3. “Choose something, babe, i got nothing” LATE SEASON CASS TO LATE SEASON DEAN !! Specifically 15x03 (again <3) when Cass says “Jack’s dead. Chuck’s gone. You and Sam have each other. I think it’s time for me to move on.” HE WAS SAYING HE HAD NOTHING LEFT.

This song is just so Destiel coded and I cannot keep this in my head or I will explode.

PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE if u have imput reblog or whatever and talk about it because lyrical ships are SO important to me.

#supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #spn s15 #spn #spn s5 #sam winchester #chuck shurley #destiehellers #i actually dunno what that means <3 #this show is making me insane

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michwritesstuff · 2 years

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Some Things Last Forever After All (Top Gun Maverick: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw)

a/n: listened to this song for the first time in a while yesterday and screamed at the idea of this. (i know country is not for everyone but i can perfectly see this with rooster so i hope you guys love it as much as i do!)

summary: female reader (she/her) x bradley bradshaw Flying for the Navy and returning to Top Gun gave Rooster some of the greatest memories and friends he could ever ask for. One night, he comes to the realization that he is in love with his best friend, and he can’t help but always want you around.

notes/warnings: friends to lovers? cute and fluffy rooster, mentions of alcohol (lyrics are bolded, past will be fully italicized…not to be confused with present quotes)

word count: 1.9k

Bradley never really counted on the good things in his life lasting very long. After losing his dad at such a young age, and his mom later in life, he convinced himself that the people he loved and cared about would only end up leaving and disappointing him.

When Maverick pulled his papers to the Naval Academy, setting him and his career back by four years, Bradley swore that the world was out to get him. He had never been so angry and resentful towards anyone in his life.

From the moment his dad passed away, Bradley knew that he wanted to fly. In some way, he felt like it would connect them—bring him back, even if it was just for a few fleeting moments…in memory.

This was it for him. The Navy. Top Gun. This was all he needed in life. The people he would meet and get to know, sure they could help pass the time. But that’s all, right?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

FM station on the outskirts Blue jeans after years of shift work All fading out like I always knew they would

As he pulled into the parking lot to the Hard Deck in his Bronco, Rooster couldn’t help but feel at home. Sure, the place looked like a dump on the outside, but he had created some of his closest friends here.

He still remembers the first time he talked to you at the bar.

You had just got done shooting down tequila with Natasha, whom since you last seen her been named “Phoenix.”

“Ladies, looking good this evening” he greeted.

Your throat still burned as you turned towards the voice.

A man, who you didn’t recognize, stood there. He looked to be about 6’0”, his eyes covered by a pair of aviators that rested on his face.

You couldn’t help but think “Who the hell wears glasses inside? This guy apparently.”

Taking in the rest of his appearance, he bore a dark pair of faded blue jeans and a white tank top layered with what seemed to look like a vintage Hawaiin shirt…interesting.

The sleeves cuffed his arm in just the right place, his strong arms on display. His smooth and tan skin slightly disrupted by a few small scars on his cheek and a ridiculous pornstache, which you had to admit, suited him.

Had you not taken that shot, and the three other ones before it, you would never have ranted the way you were about to. Fortunately for everyone around you, you had.

“Oh god, please. I can not do this again. Look buddy, we’re not interested. I have to deal enough with cocky pilots that think just because they’re here that they’re hot shit and can go around slinging their dick everywhere. It’s not going to work for them and it won’t for you either civvy.”

The man’s face looked taken aback before a large smile took over his face, he seemed amused.

“Y/N, meet Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. He’ll be at Top Gun with us. Bradshaw, this is Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N,” Phoenix introduced the both of you.

Your face flushed red; you were not expecting that.

“Just Rooster, no need for formalities” he clarified, a teasing smile on his face.

A loud ringing bell startled you.

You turned around to see the woman at the bar pointing at a small sign, specifically where it stated something about placing your phone on the bar.

Which you hadn’t realized you had done until Rooster approached. This was all his fault.

“I’ll take a beer, on her tab”

The woman grabbed a bottle before knocking it on the edge of the bar to pop the top off, sliding it over in Rooster’s direction.

“Thanks Penny,” Rooster smiled.

Reaching between you and Phoenix, he grabbed his beer before continuing.

“Phoenix, good to see you again. Lieutenant Y/L/N, it was a pleasure. Next round is on me,” he smiled, tipping his beer in your direction before walking away.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

They say nothing lasts forever But they ain't seen us together Or the way the moonlight dances in your eyes

The waves crashing along the shore were drowned out by the laughter as the group sat around the fire after a long day of games.

Maverick had thought it would be a good idea to take the day off and go to the beach, something about team morale.

With the footballs put away and the drinks out, everyone began to wind down.

Phoenix recounted the story of how you guys had met, a mixture of laughter and shocked faces were present as Y/N was revealed as the buyer of all their drinks that night.

“Trust me, my bank account will never let me forget it.”

Since that moment, you and Rooster had pretty much become inseparable. He was your best friend, besides Natasha of course.

You had more in common than you would have originally thought, your thoughts and mannerisms sometimes identical. Phoenix swore that you were twin flames or something, you weren’t sure what she meant by that, but it sounded cool.

From hobbies to goals in life, you were pretty much on the same page.

Not to mention, he just understood you in a way no one else really could.

When you were frustrated about training or life in general, he knew. No matter how hard you convinced yourself you were hiding it well. He knew you, better than you knew yourself sometimes.

Maybe it was all the time you spent together, but he was your best friend and he always made sure to remind Natasha of the fact as she complained that you couldn’t bail on your monthly movie night with Rooster.

“Speaking of drinks, anyone need another?” Hangman spoke up.

“I’ll help,” you stood up, patting Rooster’s shoulder as you walked away.

His eyes followed your retreating body as you accompanied Hangman into the Hard Deck.

“So when’s the wedding?” Phoenix spoke up.

Rooster’s eyes widened in amusement and confusion.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on, Rooster. We can all see it. You’re in love with Y/C/S. Just man up and tell her already.”

Was he in love with you? I mean sure, he cared about you and wanted you around. You’re his best friend, but love?

As you walked out the back porch with Hangman, arms securely holding beer bottles as you threw your head back in laughter, Rooster couldn’t help the way his heart swelled as he watched you.

Taking your place next to him he swore that you sat closer to him than you had before. But it was just his imagination, right?

With the cool breeze that fell over the group you had managed to nestle closer to Rooster to the point that you were practically in his lap, one leg over his as you rested your hands in your lap, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Cold?” he questioned.

“Just a bit,” you replied.

Without any hesitation Rooster wrapped his arm around you, his hand resting on your hip as he pulled you even closer.

“Thanks Roo.”

He looked down to meet your eyes, the moonlight shining as you smiled up at him.

Yeah, he loved you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Just a t-shirt in the kitchen With no make-up and a million Other things that I could look at my whole life

He would never admit to anyone if they asked, but this is when Rooster adored you the absolute most.

He never imagined himself liking such a domestic relationship, but after late movie nights that went far past your bedtime or times when you drank a little too much at the hard deck and couldn’t make it to your dorm and would end up crashing at his place, he would always wake up to the same view.

You.

Well—you in the kitchen making breakfast for the both of you.

It was the same routine. You would ‘argue’ the night before about who got to sleep in his room and who would crash on the couch. As a ‘guest’ he insisted that you should take his room and that he would take the couch.

Of course, you never wanted to burden him in his own home and would simply deny his request, demanding that you would take the couch.

You would go back and forth for a while until you walked up to the couch and just laid down.

Too tired to argue anymore, he would bid you a goodnight.

“Sweet Dreams Roo.”

When he awoke, the smell of fresh bacon and coffee wafted throughout the house.

Walking in the kitchen he found your back turned to him as you nursed the pans of bacon and eggs on the stove.

Your t-shirt—well technically his, which you stole, fell below your ass, leaving your legs on display.

Sensing his presence, you turned around.

“Morning sleepyhead,” you teased with a warm smile.

His morning tiredness still lingering, his eyes wandered slightly longer over your appearance than he found appropriate before his eyes found yours, greeting you with a smile of his own.

As he thought about this somewhat often routine, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to truly wake up next to you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A love like that makes a man have second thoughts Maybe some things last forever after all

The more he thought about it the more in love Rooster felt. He loved you, truly and fully.

He was scared to admit that, afraid that he would lose you.

But as time continued on, he knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

After the uranium enrichment site had been destroyed everything was put into perspective for the team.

Maverick and Rooster could have died. You could have lost him, he could have lost you.

The Navy thought it important to keep the team together, stationing you all in San Diego.

The finality of the decision led everyone to move off base.

Rooster had already been living in his own home.

As you laid on the couch, your head in his lap as you rambled on about how hard it had been for you and Phoenix as you went on your apartment search, you almost missed when Rooster had offered for you to move in with him.

“What?” you asked.

“Why don’t you just move in with me?”

“Rooster don’t be ridiculous,” you said sitting up.

“What, why not? You’re here all the time anyways. It doesn’t seem so far-fetched to me.”

“I sleep on the couch!” you exclaimed.

“There’s not even an extra bedroom.”

He went quiet for a moment, staring at the ground before him as you began to realize.

“Oh”

He wanted you to move in with him.

It was no secret to anyone that you and Rooster had something more than a friendship going on.

While there had been a few stolen kisses here and there when in the moment, neither of you had ever felt confident enough to bring it up.

“Yes,” you breathed.

This caught Rooster’s attention.

“Really?” he asked, a hint of hope in his eyes. God, you loved him.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

Before you could process what was happening, Rooster barreled over to you, your back hitting the couch as he hovered over you.

You chuckled at his forwardness, reaching your hand up to graze his cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Please,” you spoke, your voice barely above whisper.

Your hand moved from his cheek to his neck as your fingers played with his soft curls at the nape of his neck as you pulled him forward.

His lips gently brushed yours before he pulled back.

“I love you Y/N.”

“And I love you Bradley.”

a/n: If you like my work please support by liking/reblogging. Also, feel free to message me about ideas. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t have a lot of time, but when inspiration hits i’ll sit down for hours

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