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ovaryacted · 8 months

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Autumn Delight

Pairing: DI!Leon x fem!reader

Summary: As you cook to welcome the change in season, your daughter plays grocery shopping with her father.

WC: 2.1k

Notes: After reading @cinnarette write for girl dad!Leon, I wanted to add on to the hype and do some fluff because that man deserves it and I want him happy. Also I know I said Death Island Leon for this one, but I imagine him older. Anyways, enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing this one. Reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

The sun shined through the window as you hummed to yourself, the pot in front of you blowing off steam and filling the kitchen with the aroma of sweet tomatoes and fresh herbs. The scent felt nostalgic, like a soft weighted blanket that reminded you of what your mom would make for dinner after you came home from school.

The season was slowly transitioning into autumn now, a more prominent breeze shaking the leaves as they began to change color from their vibrant greens to shades of orange and dark red. Warm air now starting to cool down every passing day, tank tops and shorts exchanged for sweat pants and cotton crew necks. Soon enough, it’ll be time to go apple picking and welcome all things pumpkin, you mostly looked forward to having apple cider come back in stock at your local grocery store.

A loaf of fresh sourdough bread rested in front of you, already knowing the cheese you needed for this meal was cooling in the fridge, ready to be melted to your heart’s delight. Grilled cheese and tomato soup were on the menu tonight, a nice hearty meal to welcome the first day of fall. You covered the pot of tomato soup, letting it simmer for a while longer. As you were ready to step to the side and tend to other tasks, you heard rambling on the upper floor of your townhouse, already knowing where the source of the noise was coming from.

Stepping out of the kitchen entirely, you went up the stairs, careful not to be too loud as your slippers moved over the hardwood steps. Walking down the hallway of the second floor, you continued until you were met with the white door to your left, wide open for you to take in the view inside.

Your husband was on his knees, surrounded by pastel green walls and soft carpet. Toys were all over the floor, a Barbie dollhouse in one corner of the room and a plastic play kitchen in the other. You leaned against the doorway and let out a snort, trying not to draw attention to the 3-year-old who walked around her bedroom with purpose. The man’s eyes were drawn to yours at the sound of your laughing, vibrant blues paired with soft wrinkles on the rounded corners of his gaze. A pearly white grin came your way, one that drew you to him all those years ago.

“You know, this place is quite small. Limited options”, Leon said, pushing a toy shopping cart that was comically small against him and skimming the shelf in front of him. He tilted his head to the side, finger on his chin as he thought heavily about what to grab next. Of course, he took this decision seriously, looking at the plastic toys resembling different foods from fake cereal boxes to ketchup bottles and eggs.

He reached forward and took a can of tuna, putting it in the cart and moving along. The cart was already full of a few things, plastic fruits and vegetables that were completely necessary. You watched him move around, going to the mini-kitchen that was set up on one side of the room.

“A drumstick in the sink? This is such a safety hazard for a grocery store”, Leon grumbled, knowing his daughter was right behind him, watching him diligently like a good sales associate. Her matching dirty blonde hair and blue eyes looked over him as he reached for the misplaced doll currently folded in the tiny microwave. He tried his hardest not to laugh, putting the doll back where he found it and gave you a glance.

Leon continued to shift around the room, finding plastic cookies on the floor and throwing them in the buggy with dramatic flare. He leaned down on the ground and found more toys littering around him. Grapes were underneath the toddler bed, toy crackers were in the hot tub in the dollhouse, and singular hot dog sausages were thrown in every nook and cranny imaginable.

Just looking at the room was stress-inducing, but the agent didn’t have the heart to be mad or irritated. If anything he was glad to have a mess like this to deal with in the first place. Had someone told him years ago he’d be happily married in a townhouse he bought with a three year old daughter that was his carbon copy, he’d laugh in their face. The image of having a loving family was a dream he had thrown away after the horrors he witnessed at 21. Being exposed to such monstrosities almost fully turned him away from ever thinking of having something more in his life besides fighting manmade monsters. He never thought he’d be able to have a life worth living outside of survival.

That was until miraculously, he bumped into you when he went to try a new cafe that opened in town. Years later having regained that dream he buried deep in his subconscious, he gets to be in a home full of love he never thought he’d get to experience. He has a reason to wake up every day, something and someone to fight for, and he wouldn’t take that for granted.

Leon shook his head and blinked at the sound of your voice, your eyes looking over him once or twice already knowing what happened. He zones out less as he gets older, but it still happens from time to time. Before, his memories used to haunt him, the traumas and burdens he carried would make his nervous system go haywire and put him in a constant state of paranoia. Now, he has moments where he’s reminiscing about his past and feels gratitude instead of self-hatred or fear. You didn’t mind, you accepted all parts of Leon with open arms, even the parts he couldn’t accept himself, and if it weren’t for your support lord knows where he’d be now.

“Hm?”, he hummed, giving you a look and silently admiring you like he often did, as if you were his guardian angel sent to ground him to this current reality.

“I asked if you could pick up some ice cream on your shopping trip”, you told him softly, your daughter now distracted and leaving her post at her fake cash register to collect all of the individual chip pieces she could find.

“Thanks for reminding me hun”, Leon said now returning to the present, shuffling to another part of the room to look for the ice cream pieces. He could only find the plastic waffle cone, not the strawberry ice cream scoop. With a shrug, he put it in the shopping cart as you held in your giggle with a bite of your lip.

Finally facing his daughter, he pushed the cart towards where she stood. Out of the kindness of his heart, he helped the toddler scan and swipe the toys, her small grabby hands reaching for whatever food item he gave her. It was moments like this you enjoyed the most, seeing just how much Leon loves the child you both created and how he treats her like the center of his universe. She’ll never fully understand just how much her dad cares for her, pure unconditional love if you ever saw it.

You couldn’t be more proud to see Leon become the father he never had, and the man he’s always wanted to be.

Leon now started to talk with his mini-twin, giving her sassy remarks as her tiny fingers threw the things she scanned back into his cart rather aimlessly.

“What? No bag? You’ve got to be kidding me”, he teased, playing the part of an angry customer all too well for your child to realize. She wagged a finger at him and pressed the button of the scanner towards his face, a beep sounding through the room as she did. She responded to him with an equal amount of sass, making you snicker under your breath and Leon had to bite his tongue so he didn’t follow you. Not only did your child inherit her father’s most noticeable features, she also got his corniness and attitude.

She continued to scan and beep all of the items until there was nothing left to pass, looking up at Leon with her hand out and demanding him to give the money for his groceries.

“Do you have change for a 20?”, Leon spoke, making you shake your head in disbelief at how dedicated he was in playing his role. He had a fake $20 bill he borrowed from the monopoly board sitting on the coffee table of your living room.

“Mine”, his daughter nodded with a bubbly giggle. She snatched the bill from Leon’s hand with enthusiasm, pressing some buttons on her cash register before the drawer opened with a ding. She pushed the bill inside and closed the drawer with no change in her hand. Leon only gave her a raised eyebrow.

“Wow. Is this how you treat your customers? You know what, I’m just going to go to Trader Joe’s down the block”, Leon playfully threw a hissy fit, making the 3-year-old laugh as she waved at her father and mumbled bye bye.

The blonde got up from his knees with a grunt, walking up towards you and pulling you in by the hips with a smile. Leaning down he kissed you on the cheek, then on the tip of your nose, and finally on your lips as you hummed against him, putting a hand on his chest and the other rubbing the back of his neck. It was an occurring routine of kissing he started years ago when you were still dating, all beginning the day he asked you to officially be his partner.

“You know our daughter is really starting to be more like you every time I see her. I’m getting scared, one of you is enough”, you taunted him, making him chuckle. You couldn’t help but stroke his stubbled cheek, loving the feel of the coarse hairs against your fingers.

“C’mon, you know you can’t get enough of me. I’m not that bad”, he grinned, offering you a corny wink that made you roll your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night”

“I sleep just fine knowing you’re right next to me sweetheart”, he openly flirted with you, a sneaky hand coming towards your rear and giving you a playful tap. “You’re cooking aren’t you?”

“Mhm, grilled cheese and tomato soup, all from scratch”, you told him, noticing how his ears perked up at the sound of cooked food. You learned early on in your relationship that Leon was a foodie and preferred home-cooked dishes above anything else. So you made sure to get your clutches on him by making him some Tuscan chicken pasta, aka marry me pasta, on your 7th dinner date together. Safe to say, he hasn’t left since.

“God I love you”, he declared so frankly and so often that you knew he meant it. You never questioned his devotion to you, and you can tell from the way he says it as if it’ll be the last time that it’s always sincere.

“I know, you would go hungry without me. I love you too”, giving him another kiss on his lips and letting him savor it.

You heard a tiny voice coming towards you both, something yanking on Leon’s jeans by the shin and forcing him to pull away from you for a minute. He looked down at the smaller blonde, cerulean eyes matching his own like a reflection of himself.

“Yeah sweet pea, what’s up?”, he turned towards her, reaching down to pick her up in his strong arms like he usually did. “You want some of mommy’s food too?”

“Yes! Sammi!”, it slipped out of her mouth, clapping to herself as she got excited at the mere idea of eating whatever was being made. She was always eager to eat, finding joy in the way she gripped her small spork and made a mess of herself with crumbs on her soft cheeks.

A passionate food lover, just like him.

“Hell yeah. Grilled cheese sammi and tomato soup. Let’s go help mommy cook”, Leon said, carrying his baby girl in his arms and marching down the stairs, allowing you to hear her laugh intertwining with his own. You followed them down the steps, watching your husband tickle your daughter’s tummy, beaming from ear to ear.

A warmth fluttered in your chest, silently watching the way they’d talk and interact with one another that would have anyone think they were the same person. You smiled again, going to the stove to stir the pot of tomato soup before you started on the grilled cheese sandwiches.

You don’t know how you got here to have all that you did in your life, but you wouldn’t change an absolute thing.

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #dad!leon kennedy #girl dad!leon kennedy #resident evil leon kennedy #resident evil death island #di! leon #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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finelinevogue · 11 months

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bestie is there an update on LI harry?

ummmm hi?! here's a little something:

1 Year Later

"Babe!"

You hear Harry yell from inside your semi-detached house. You smile to yourself as you are reminded that you have the most perfect, quiet, life now with the guy you love.

It's been a whole year since the beginning of Love Island and you can't be happier that you made it out of there together - only after winning too.

The sponsorships that you both got, after coming out of the villa, have set you both up for life. Even after giving away a quarter of your money to family and another quarter to respective charities, you managed to buy a house in the country on the outskirts of London and Harry recently saved up to buy you your engagement ring.

"In the garden, lovie!" You call back.

His presence is felt before he actually speaks around you.

You are trying to catch a tan in the back garden, laying on a sun-bed. Today was supposed to get up to 25 degrees and the UV would be at 5, so it was a good opportunity to tan.

You squint one eye open to see him hover over you with an ice-cold beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

"Have you got enough suncream on?" He asks, handing you the bottle of water and sitting down on the sun-bed next to you.

"Think so." You nod.

"Think so, is not good enough. Turn over." Harry instructs you, ever the bossy and concerned fiancé.

He takes a swig of his beer and puts it back down on the floor.

You hear the bottle of suncream open and you turn over and lay on your front.

"Fuck!" You squeal as the cold of the suncream meets your hot back. "Could've warned me."

Harry just chuckles and continues rubbing the suncream into your back. It was like getting a free massage. He really lathers the suncream on, so your black glistens with the stickiness of the cream, but only because he cares about you.

Next his hands land on your bum - his favourite part of your body.

He can't even lie when someone asks him what his favourite part of your body is and say your eyes. It is always going to be your ass. He claims it's too peachy for your own good.

"You having fun back there, H?" You tease, noting how long he is spending on applying suncream to your ass.

"Time of my life."

"You're going to rub all the suncream off if you keep massaging it."

"Well, then I'll just have to reapply." He hits your bum lightly to signal that he has finished. For now.

Your head it resting on one side and you watch Harry sit a bit further up on the chair so he is in line with your face. You have a hard time focusing on anything when his chest is right in your line of vision.

"What did you need me for?" You ask.

"Was gonna ask whether you wanted me to put the BBQ on and we can have burgers off the grill for dinner?" He takes another sip of his beer and it shouldn't be as hot as he makes it look.

"Sounds nice."

"Bacon too?"

"And cheese, onions and burger sauce."

"And a salad, because God knows you need to eat more greens." Harry always teases you about your lack of eating vegetables, just because you don't enjoy eating broccoli.

"Oh piss off." You laugh.

"Y'know, if I do this BBQ I'm going to need help." He leans over a bit, so he blocks the sun from your face and he's only a few centimetres in front of you. He smells like a mixture of beer, suncream and aftershave.

"And how am I going to help? I burnt our pasta last week."

"By giving me a kiss." He smirks.

"Oh really?" You tease, leaning your head up a little to close the distance between you.

"Yeah. It's been proven the best help for me."

"Hmm. Sounds a little too convenient for you."

"I don't really care."

Harry doesn't let you bicker back, because he's cupped the back of your neck and pulled you towards his lips. The kiss is messy and ungraceful, considering the positions your both sat in, but you make it work. Your lips work over Harry's deliciously and he doesn't break away until he's satisfied. Your lips both tinge a little afterwards and not because of the sun.

"Will never get over the way you make me feel." Harry says.

"Thanks for finding me." You kiss him again, but just a little one this time.

"And thanks for loving me."

You smile at him as you watch the love transfer between him and yourself. The feelings will always be magical between you both.

"Now go make me my burger." You flop back down on the sun-bed.

Harry slaps you on your ass for the attitude, but you were expecting it so it only makes you laugh.

"Bossiest fiancé in the world." He mumbles as he leaves, making you fall in love with him a little more.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #love island fic #loveisland!harry #harry styles love island fic #li!harry #love island universe finelinevogue

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thissortofsorcery · 1 year

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It’s just a green Hawkins Tigers sweatshirt, kind of old, color already faded after too many washes, lumpy on the armpits from being used too many times.

Billy makes it look brand new.

Even sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed, eyes fixed on the window, with the line of his spine hunched with the weight of what he ran from, of why he came to Steve tonight, he looks beautiful. His hair is damp from the shower, curling around his ears and his neck, and his bare toes are digging into the carpet. In the soft light of Steve’s bedroom, in Steve’s old sweatshirt, Billy looks almost delicate.

Steve loves him so much, he doesn’t know what to do with himself sometimes.

“Hey,” Steve says, from the bedroom door, and Billy turn to him. He doubts the thoughts Billy was lost in were good, so he doesn’t mind breaking him out of them. “Found you some cigarettes, if you want them.”

Billy arrived at Steve’s in workout clothes, just a tank top and shorts, shivering with dried sweat and with a bloody lip. It looked like he didn’t have time to grab anything but his keys.

Billy lights a cigarette as soon as Steve hands the pack over. It’s cute how he goes straight to the window and opens it, blowing the smoke out into the night air, like Steve minds. His hands are shaking a little, still, and he’s jiggling his foot where one leg is crossed over the other, leaning against the wall.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says, like he does every time. He sits on the bed where Billy was. “It’s fine.”

Billy’s eyes flick to Steve, from where he was staring out the window again. His face is set in a deep frown, with that awful crease between his eyebrows that means his head went somewhere shitty. He takes a deep drag from the cigarette, but his hand misses his mouth once before he gets it right. Billy doesn’t say anything, but he pushes away from the wall and starts to pace.

“Are you hungry?” Steve asks, and starts bouncing his own knee. He tries to think of what food he has in the fridge. “I can make you a grilled cheese. Or I have leftover pasta, if you want.”

“No,” Billy says quietly, even if his expression would demand him to shout. Smoke comes out of his mouth, of his nostrils, and Steve pictures it coming out of his ears, almost, like a pissed off cartoon character. Except he knows when Billy looks his angriest it’s because he’s the most sad. “No, I had dinner.”

Steve watches him pace. Thinks of what else he can offer, how else he can fix it even knowing he can’t actually fix it. He wants to hug Billy, to hold him, but being still isn’t what Billy needs right now.

He’s pacing the room like a caged animal, going from the dresser to the nightstand and pulling on the cigarette. For once, the wallpaper in Steve’s room seems fitting.

“Steve?” A crackle comes from the nightstand, and both of their heads snap toward it. “Steve, come in. It’s Max. Over.”

Both Steve and Billy lunge to grab the walkie, and Steve only takes it because he was closest. Billy hovers by his side, staring at the walkie anxiously.

“This is Steve. Max, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Is Billy with you?” The walkie crackles again, and Billy’s face goes slack, eyes closed. Relieved.

“Yeah, he’s right here. He’s alright,” Steve says, and Billy huffs, like they’re being dumb for worrying about him.

Billy grabs the walkie from Steve’s hand, “Max, you okay?”

Steve thinks any other thirteen year old would be annoyed to be asked that twice, but Max just says,

“Yeah, I’m in my room. I told them I was going to sleep,” They both go silent for a while, then Max says, “Are you really okay?”

Billy shoots a glance at Steve, moves only to tangle their fingers together briefly.

“I’m good, shitbird. I’m gonna spend the night at Steve’s,” Billy says. “Same as usual for school tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Max says, and she sounds calmer, but still subdued. “I’ll grab your bag and stuff.”

Billy lets out a long sigh, shoulders slumped, and presses the walkie hard on his forehead for a second.

“Thanks, Max. Night.”

“Bye, Billy.”

The walkie clatters on the desk, and Billy puts out the cigarette bud on the ashtray Steve got for him ages ago. Where he was almost vibrating before, now Billy is too still, almost dragged down, like he ran out of gas and rolled to a stop on the side of the road. Steve hates to see him like this. Billy should always be full of energy, full of life.

Steve approaches slowly, makes sure his steps make sound, and lays a hand on Billy’s back. He leans back into it right away, so Steve plasters himself against Billy, runs his hands down his arms, lets his hair tickle Billy’s ear.

“What do you need?” Steve says, laying a kiss on Billy’s shoulder. “How can I help?”

“I don’t know,” Billy says, almost a groan. He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, hiding his face. “Can we just-”

He cuts himself off, like he doesn’t know what he means. Steve thinks he does, though, Steve knows Billy, has seen him rage and cry and laugh a hundred different ways since November. Has been by his side for a good portion of it.

So he takes Billy’s hand and leads him to the bed, gets in after him and pulls the covers over them both. Billy rolls into Steve immediately, tucks his face into Steve’s neck and breathes in, and Steve runs his fingers over Billy’s scalp to help him relax. To make him sigh.

“You look great in that sweatshirt,” Steve says, out of nowhere, out of a desire to make this moment theirs and talk about stupid stuff. “I like seeing you in my clothes.”

Billy’s breath hitches, and his fingers squeeze Steve’s waist, but he doesn’t say anything. Steve runs his fingers down Billy’s spine, shifts his head to lay a kiss on Billy’s hair, on his temple.

“I mean, you look good in anything,” Steve says, voice so quiet it’s almost a murmur. “But when I came in and I saw you… You’re so beautiful, Billy.”

“You trying to get in my pants, Harrington?” Billy’s voice comes from Steve’s neck, muffled. He doesn’t move.

“I’m serious,” Steve laughs, “Do you even know what a catch you are?”

“Of course I am,” Billy mumbles. “Sex on wheels.”

That’s not what Steve meant. He runs a hand down Billy’s arms until their hands meet, laces their fingers together. His lips kiss from Billy’s temple to his brow, and he speaks against his forehead:

“I meant more like how great you are,” Steve says. When Billy huffs, he continues, “You’re so, so smart.”

“Shut up,” Billy says.

“And you’re a smartass but you’re actually hilarious about it. You make me laugh so much,” Steve kisses the bridge of Billy’s nose, his eyelids, his cheekbone. “You’re honest. You’re dependable. When you want something, you give your whole self to it.”

Steve can hear Billy’s breath shake, and his eyes are closed. He rubs their noses together, says against his mouth, “I really feel like I can trust you, Billy.”

“Steve,” Billy breathes, and when he opens his eyes they’re wet, spilling over the bridge of his nose and onto his temple.

“And you’re good,” Steve says, “You’re a good person.”

Billy squeezes his eyes shut, and presses his forehead to Steve’s, breathing against him, fingers tangled together close to their chests.

“Smelled like you,” Billy says, “the sweatshirt.”

Oh.

Warmth spills in Steve’s chest like a fountain, like smoke from Billy’s lips, filling it with happiness until there’s no room for his lungs to expand. He rubs his nose along Billy’s cheek, presses a path of kisses until he finds the center of his lips. Kisses him gently, unhurried.

“I love you,” Steve says. “You know that. Right?”

“Yeah, pretty boy. I know,” Billy says, and his smile is small but it’s blinding. “Love you too.”

every time anti bullshit shows up on my dash, I write Steve loving on Billy | II

#harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fic #billy and max #billy hargrove #steve harrington #mine #sorcery writes #spreading billy love

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estrellami-1 · 3 months

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53

“You wish,” Steve teases, then looks wide-eyed at Robin. “What about all the pictures we have?”

“We’ll take new ones,” she assures him, then grins. “And hey, maybe Starcourt will be built, without the Russian base underneath.”

Steve hums. “Maybe then I could avoid one of the concussions from Billy.”

Robin freezes suddenly. “Steve,” she says, “is it a good idea for the party to meet Max? Because of the first concussion from Billy? That wasn’t Upside Down related, was it?”

Steve grimaces. “He’d been Flayed at that point, yeah. Even if he is a racist asshole, I can’t imagine him coming after us like that again.”

Robin hums. “But if he does-”

“Tell me,” Eddie says suddenly, “does he like Mary Jane? Because I can make sure he never sees her again if he goes after Steve.”

Robin blinks at him, then begins to grin. “Sorry, Stevie, Eddie’s my new favorite.”

Eddie laughs and fist-bumps her. “Likewise, Birdie.”

“Hey!” Steve says, faux-affronted. It’s ruined by the grin he can’t hide.

El pokes gently at Steve’s arm, then the waffle iron when he looks at her. “It’s done.”

“Ah,” he says, opening it. “Thank you, Ellie. Mind getting me a plate?” He grins at her. “Without grabbing it?”

El grins. Without moving, she opens a cabinet, floats a plate out to Steve, then shuts the cabinet again. She wipes underneath her nose, then grins at Steve. “No blood!”

“That’s great!” He celebrates with her, offering her a high-five. “You think you’re ready?”

“I’m still scared,” she tells him. “But yes. I do.”

“Y’know something else?” Steve asks. “Vecna needed four more years to be strong enough to do what he did. You needed two more days. I think you’re much stronger than he is right now.”

“Speaking of the big bad,” Eddie interjects, nibbling on a corner of his waffle, “shouldn’t we go over the plan?”

Steve sighs. “Probably,” he agrees.

“I think we should wait for everyone,” Alli says. “Let’s just have as normal a morning as we can for right now.”

Steve smiles at his sister. “Sure, Al,” he says, then rolls his eyes when she pulls him into a hug and ruffles his hair.

“Love you, Bubba,” she murmurs into his ear, and he can’t help but to melt into her hug.

“Love you too, Al,” he murmurs back, then grins at her. “How about grilled cheese when we all make it outta this intact?”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” she nods, then steps away. “I’m gonna call Cass. Come and get me when everyone’s here?”

“Will do,” he nods, and she smiles in response as she walks off.

Eddie pulls his feet up onto the counter he’s sitting on, looping his arms around his knees. “So, Cassidy is Alli’s-?”

“Girlfriend,” Steve nods. He takes another waffle out of the iron and scrapes the last of the batter into it. “It makes me wonder how I would’ve ended up, if I had her the entire time, y’know? Cause I know I was an asshole. And I’m trying not to be anymore.”

“You’re succeeding,” both Robin and Eddie say at the same time, then excitedly point at each other.

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “Thanks. But I wonder, if I’d had her the entire time, would I have ever gotten as bad as I did? Would I have ever worked at Scoops or Family Video and met you, Robin? Would any of his have ever happened in the first place?”

He only notices his hand is shaking when Robin gently takes his fork and puts it down, then grabs both his hands in hers. “Squeeze,” she requests, and he does, letting out a harsh breath and resting their foreheads together.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Shuddup,” Robin says. He laughs.

After a few seconds, he pulls away to look at her. “Am I being crazy?”

“I think you’re being exactly as sane as taking this mission in the first place makes either of us, Dingus, I don’t think either of us were all there in the first place.”

Steve giggles. “I think you may be right.”

“Maybe you would’ve been different,” Eddie says. He’s taking the last waffle out of the iron. “Maybe you wouldn’t have. Maybe all of this would’ve happened, and maybe it wouldn’t have. Maybes aren’t gonna change anything that’s currently happening. All we can do is our best to get through it.”

El slips between Steve and Robin and wraps her arms around Steve’s waist. “I can do things you can’t,” she says quietly. “But I can’t see the future. I don’t know what could’ve happened. But I know I’m glad that you’re here now.”

Steve sighs contentedly and wraps her in his arms. “Me too.”

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#stranger things #if I should stay #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #el hopper #platonic stobin #el and Steve are siblings #steve has a long-needed mental breakdown #he deserves it honestly #fix it #fix it fic #time travel #time travel fic #time travel fix it #time travel fix it fic #starambles

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lizzieislife94x · 4 months

Text

Long Distance (e.o)

Requested ❤️

Lizzie x Fem Reader

GirlxGirl

Y/ns POV:

I wash up my plate as I watch my phone like an excited child its 6:30pm meaning my girlfriend will be calling any minute its 10pm where she is at the moment on location, I dry my dish as I wait for the call after 5 minutes my phone rings with the facetime call.

Me: babyyy I've missed you so much.

Lizzie: I've missed you too, how was your day today baby.

Me: it was great work was chill I hung out with one of my new co workers Jane she's awesome.

I say with a smile as I look at lizzie her smile doesn't seem proper maybe I'm over thinking

Lizzie: that's good did you eat.

Me: yeah I just had dinner just finished 15 minutes ago, how is work going liz.

Lizzie: ugh good yeah just really tired I wish I was with you though.

Me: yeah me too me too.

After an hour on the phone we hang up and I have a huge smile on my face lizzie said she's coming to visit next week she has 2 weeks off and I couldn't be more excited about it I decided to go for a shower then bed and fall asleep with a huge smile on my face.

4 days later:

"So you have any plans for this weekend y/n" I look up from my food and smile sweetly "actually I don't do you wanna do something" I ask Jane as she grins "yessss lets go dancing and let loose" she says excitedly as I giggle "ok so tomorrow night I'll meet you at the club?" I say and nods "yes definitely " we continue to eat our lunch as my phone rings I look and notice lizzies name causing me to smile "Jane ill be right back I have to take this my girlfriend is calling" I stand up and walk away to answer.

Me: Hey baby is everything ok

Lizzie: yeah I just missed your voice babygirl how is work.

Me: yeah we're on lunch just now I'm going to the club tomorrow night with JaneAll I hear is silence for bit

Me: lizzie are you there liz baby

Lizzie: yeah sorry I'm here thats great as long as you have fun princess

Me: oh you no I will but hey I can't wait to see you on Monday I'm counting down the hours

Lizzie: me to princess I can't wait to just chill with you go out and most importantly have you in my arms.

Me: oh god me to baby I can't wait shit hey baby I gotta go I gotta get back to work ill text you later have fun filming.

With that I quickly hang up and rush back up to the office and get back towork after a few hours it's home time I quickly head home and throw myself on the couch oh jeez its been a long day I decided to just have grilled cheese for dinner I can't be bothered cooking once I eat I head up to my room and throw myself onto the bed and open tik tok must have fell asleep though because I'm being woke up to the sound of my alarm I roll over and groan getting up to shower and brush my teeth I get dressed for work and head to my car.

Me: Good morning baby I hope you have a great day still counting the hours down till your here but I'm heading to work so I'll text you again later

I put my phone down and drive to work as I pull up my phone beeps causing me to smile when I see her name on my phone

Lizzie♥️: Good morning princess I hope you have a great day at work and don't get to drunk tonight ill text you later beautiful

I smile and walk into the building to get my work done at lunch Jane comes running over to me "dude you still on for tonight" she says excited "yeah of course haha I'm looking forward to it ill meet you at the club at 8" she jumps up and down a little making me laugh.

after a long day its finally time to head home I need to go and pick an outfit.

2 hours later:

I finish putting the last touches to my make up and admire myself in the mirror I do look pretty hot if I do say so myself I went with tight black dress and black heels decided light make up and curly hair I grab my phone and take a full body picture and decide to send it to lizzie.

Me:*1 image attached* baby do I look ok

Not even a minute later my phone dings

Lizzie: Wow wow wow you look fucking sexy baby not gonna lie I'm hella jealous right now if anyone looks at you a little to long punch them in the face for me babygirl😳

I giggle at her text blushing slightly

Me: Baby no one's going to look at me and even if they did let them I have the best girlfriend in the world I don't need nor want anyone else but you your eyes and your staring are the only ones that matter to me

I spray some perfume and head out getting into my car and driving towards the club after 20 minutes I arrive right on time I park up and head to the front of club and see Jane "wow you look amazing" she says as we hug and head inside.

4 hours later:

"Oh my gosh that was so fun I yell to Jane" she nods and agrees we head outside and I call an uber "I haven't been out in a while and I had so much fun thank you Jane" she looks at me and smiles "same thanks for coming with me" we part ways heading into our own ubers after 20 minutes and a stop to Mcdonalds I'm home I decided to drunken facetime my girlfriend while I munched my Mcdonalds we spend roughly 2 hours on facetime before I passed out

Time skip to Monday

Work was boring today maybe its because lizzie gets here in the next hour and I'm counting down I get to finish in 10 minutes so I can pick her up once I finish I practically run to my car and head towards the airport my excitement rushing through my veins after 15 minutes I arrived at the airport I get out and stand against my car patiently waiting after a few minutes I spot her walking towards me with a huge smile I jump up and down and run towards her screaming with excitement as I jump into her arms she catches me and we both squeal in joy holding eachother tight "I missed you so fucking much" i mumble into her neck as she holds me tighter "I missed you to princess" we stood holding eachother for 10 minutes before I took her bag and put it in the trunk then opened her door for her "thank you baby" she smiles fuck I've missed her smile so much Irun to my side and start to drive to my house her hand automatically rests on my thigh making my thoughts run wild I haven't seen her in 6 months so its been 6 months of no action I pull into my drive and get out running round to open her door "there you go baby" she giggles and smiles as we walk inside she plops down on the couch and I follow instantly cuddling upto her "fuck I've missed you" I mumble but loud enough for her to hear"I've missed you too beautiful" she says as she plays with my hair I Bury my face in her chest and bask in the feeling of being in her arms and her playing with my hair I let out a content sigh this is perfect.

AN: ok this is gonna be a 2 parter I didn't think it would be this long but this part is basically just leading up to them being together again part 2 will have the action if it sucks I'm sorry lmao hope your all good and stay hydrated people I feel like I've not wrote in months

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nyoomfruits · 9 months

Note

Ohh for the prompts: jamming out to the radio at midnight with Lando/Oscar pleaseeeeee 🥰

@etherealszs

this idea has been banging around in my brain since i got these two prompts a MONTH ago and i finally FINALLY got around to actually writing it lmao. takes places directly after the silverstone gp :)

It’s probably a little telling, Lando thinks, that he’s here, sitting on the counter of Oscar’s tiny little kitchen in Oscar’s tiny little London apartment, rather than at Christian Horner’s big BBQ bash, or whatever it’s called that Max had insisted he’d come to.

And before he would’ve gone, without a doubt. He was planning on going, even. But then Oscar had approached him after the race debriefing and had tentatively asked him what his plans for the evening were and if he maybe wanted to come over. His face had that unreadable quality it always has, but Lando’s gotten pretty good at reading Oscar’s tells. The little twitch of his mouth, revealing he’s nervous. How the flush on his cheeks darkens ever so slightly.

So he’d agreed, tried to hide his own nerves, tried to squash down the hope that started fluttering in his chest, and had followed Oscar here, to his kitchen.

Oscar is at the stove, making them grilled cheeses, because according to him they’re allowed a little cheating on their diets for the race they’ve just had. Plus, they’re both starving, even though the clock has now definitely ticked past midnight.

“All right, I think I’ve finally got it,” Lando says, looking up from his phone, where he’s been trying to connect to Oscar’s speaker for the past ten minutes. Only seconds later, the sound of the Spice Girls telling them ‘what they want, what they really really want’ starts filling the kitchen, and Lando does a little victory fist pump.

Oscar laughs. “You really are on top of the world today, aren’t you,” He deadpans, buttering a piece of bread. “Lando Norris: Almost winner of the Silverstone GP and king of the Sonos speaker.”

Lando hops of the counter and does a little twirl. “Give me a few weeks, I’ll win a race and figure out how to work the AC in my drivers room.”

“Only one of those is a realistically achievable goal,” Oscar says, as Lando leans against the counter and tries to steal a piece of cheese. Or well, there’s no real trying to it, because Oscar lets him without any protest.

“And I have you for the other one,” Lando says, beaming at him. “You and your magic AC fingers.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, puts a few pieces of cheese on the buttered bread. “It’s called using the remote. You should try it sometimes.”

Lando sticks his tongue out at him. Oscar places another piece of cheese on it and watches as Lando squawks in indignation as he nearly drops it on the floor. “You’re going to be up there as well,” Lando says, when he’s managed to actually get the piece of cheese into his mouth.

“What, on your AC unit? I’d rather not.”

“No, idiot, on the podium. With me. 1-2 baby,” he grins as he says it, leaning back against the counter again, watching as Oscar does that thing he does where he ducks his head to hide the blush on his cheek.

“Sure, yeah. Eventually,” Oscar’s focusing on assembling his sandwiches a little too hard, so Lando grabs his hands, pulls them away to force Oscar to look at him.

“I mean it. Today sucked, you deserved that podium. But you will get there, and I will get there too, and it will be awesome.”

Lando hadn’t realized, how close they were standing until right now, hips pressed together, his fingers encircled around Oscar’s wrists. Their faces are only inches apart, and Lando has a flashback to yesterday, after qualifying, him pressing Oscar against the wall behind the Mclaren motorhome, frantic and giggly and drunk on victory. Their mouths slotting together in a heated kiss. Oscar’s hands on his neck, pulling him closer closer closer.

They hadn’t talked, after. They still haven’t talked. Lando is too to bring it up, afraid that this fragile little thing they have will shatter in his hands when he does.

Lando pulls away a little frantically, grabs his phone. “You know what we need?” He asks, and when Oscar just stares at him blankly, he continues. “Hype music.” And presses play on his phone.

It takes a few seconds for Oscar to grasp what is playing over the speakers, but then he groans. “No, absolutely not,” he says, grabbing for Lando’s phone as Lando cackles loudly.

“Ooooh Oscar Piastri,” Lando sings over the White Stripes’ drum beat, and dances out of Oscar’s reach. “Come on, Oscar, dance with me!” He says, turning up the sound as music intensifies, jumping up and down.

Oscar sighs, but his eyes are twinkling and there’s a smile tugging in the corners of his mouth and then before Lando knows it he’s jumping along, making Lando laugh when he does some kind of weird head bang motion.

It’s just. It feels exhilarating. Like they’re letting go of all of the hardships and the terrible races of the past few months, and just celebrating. They had a fantastic race. They made out behind the Mclaren motorhome. And now they’re here, in Oscar’s tiny kitchen, and it’s just them and the White Stripes, and it feels liberating, like there’s a huge wait falling off his shoulders.

Eventually the song ends and Lando and Oscar collapse against each other in a heap of giggles, Lando burying his face in Oscar’s shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

When he pulls back he realizes the next song has started playing, Spotify randomly shuffling his music, and it’s Adele’s Make You Feel My Love. Suddenly, the moment feels entirely too intimate. Oscar’s arms are still wrapped around his waist, and Lando’s head was just on his shoulder, and they’re practically slow dancing without the moving, and their noses are only inches apart.

“Hi,” Oscar says, a little out of breath, still.

“Hi,” Lando says, and he should pull away, he should pull away, but he finds himself frozen in place instead.

“I-“ Oscar starts, before taking a deep breath. “I really want to kiss you,” he blurts out then, making Lando’s breath catch in his throat. “But,” Oscar goes on, “But I don’t want. If this is just like, a fling for you, I can’t do that.”

“Oh,” Lando says, because holy shit. “You mean, uh. You want to like. Date? Be boyfriends?” Get married buy a house have children grow old together.

“Yeah,” Oscar says, smiling softly. “If that’s what you want.”

“If that’s what I-“ Lando mutters incredulously before surging forward, pressing his lips to Oscar, who lets out a surprised little ‘mmph!’ before melting into the kiss. “Yes, I want to, you dumbass,” he clarifies, when he pulls away.

“Dumbass? Says the guy who can’t even figure out his own AC,” Oscar says, eyes shining with mirth.

“Oh, shut up,” Lando says. “That’s what I’ve got you for, don’t I?” He says, and then he kisses Oscar again.

#landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #drabble

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 10 months

Text

You Don't Need a Menu

Yang: What time is it going to be?

Ruby: Oh yeah. If we're going to be here all night we might want to order food.

Jaune: Chinese okay?

Yang: Yeah Chinese works.

Ruby: Sounds good.

Jaune: Lets do ming moon's. They close in five minutes so just tell me what you want to order and I'll call it in.

Weiss: I'll have the general so's combo.

Ruby: Uh sorry do they have a menu?

Jaune: I mean yeah presumably. But its a chinese food restaurant so they have chinese food.

Ruby: Okay let me just look at the menu and I'll decide what I want.

Jaune: Okay well they aren't on yelp so there is no menu but they have chinese food. You wouldn't need a menu for ordering pizza.

Ruby: Wait were getting pizza? Now I definitely need to see a menu.

Jaune: *Slams his table* No! We're not getting pizza. We have exactly four minutes until this place closes. We're not getting pizza and even if we were none of you should need a menu. Right? You know what kind of toppings you like, every place has the same toppings, and you should know generally what you like by now. Look, you've had chinese food before.

Ruby: Uh um I don't know I'm not sure!

Jaune: You're not sure???

Yang: Come to think of it I really want to see a menu too. Because what if I want to change things up?

Jaune: Yang, you can live in some magical universe where you try something new and make new and exciting decisions but we all know you're getting the steamed beef and broccoli fried rice and an egg roll like you do every time and Blake is getting the chicken lo mein.

Blake: Leave me out of this!

Weiss: What if they don't have general so's?

Jaune: They have general so's or something like it.

Ruby: But what if they don't?

Weiss: What if they don't, though?

Jaune: I promise you that they will have general so's or something like it.

Ruby: I just don't know what I want unless I pick it off a menu.

Jaune: Okay. Alright. Fine. Using the power of your imagination construct a menu in your mind's eye consisting of all the things you've ordered from chinese places in your entire life. Then using that mental menu, tell me what the fuck you want to order!

Yang: What if they don't have dumplings?

Ruby: What if they don't have dumplings, what then?

Jaune: As the gods as my witness they will have dumplings.

Weiss: But are they on the menu because it would be really rude to ask if it's not on the menu.

Jaune: Menus are for cowards and simpletons Weiss. Persons of character look in their heart and know what they want to order.

Ruby: So you always know what you want to order?

Jaune: I haven't looked at menu for ten years.

Ruby: Bullshit!

Jaune: Try me.

Yang: Tai food?

Jaune: Chicken pad krapraw.

Weiss: Indian?

Jaune: Chicken marsala with garlic knots.

Ruby: Italian?

Jaune: Chicken parm.

Yang: They're out of chicken parm.

Jaune: Feduccini alfredo.

Yang: Go to hell!

Jaune: You first.

Weiss: Genie grants you three wishes?

Jaune: Worlds greatest sorcerer, new magic lamp, freedom for the first genie.

Ruby: You're at a diner where you can mix and match. Menu is ten pages.

Jaune: Cheeseburger deluxe medium well bacon and grilled onions and wafflefries. If they don't have that, curly fries. If they don't have that, regular fries. And a chocolate godsdamned milkshake.

Weiss: You're going to give yourself a heart attack!

Jaune: You're going to give me a heart attack. Two minutes!

Ruby: So what? You order the same meal every time?

Jaune: I order the best meal every time.

Yang: You can't have a cheese burger for breakfast!

Jaune: Can too!

Weiss: What if you're not in the mood for a cheese burger?!

Jaune: Then I'd be in the mood for a cheddar omelette with two slices of plain white toast and a cup of coffee with some hashbrowns on the side. And you know what?! I wouldn't need a menu to know it!

Weiss: So you only have two moods? Is that it?

Jaune: Two moods is more than enough for anyone!

Ruby: You're insane!

Jaune: One minute!

Weiss: General so's combo.

Ruby: Wanton soup.

Yang: Beef and broccoli with steamed rice and an egg roll.

Blake: Chicken lo mein.

Jaune: I knew it you slime!

Jaune: *into his scroll* I'll have a number one, a number three, a number five, a number seven, and a wanton soup and an eggroll for pick up. Have a great night. *hangs up*

Jaune: You mother fuckers!

Yang: You know technically an egg roll is a sandwich.

Jaune: Oh go to hell.

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby incorrect quotes #weiss schnee #ruby rose #blake belladonna #yang xiao long

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thatspookyagent · 1 year

Text

Dating Heimdall (Black!GN!Reader) would include...

Warnings: Typical assholery and bastard behaviour lmao otherwise none

a/n: First time writing for a video game franchise and I hope that y’all enjoy this! Heimdall is easily my favorite GOW character besides Freyr and Angrboda. There’s not much fanfiction out there for GOW: Ragnarok right now, let alone for Heimdall, and like none for a Black!Reader specifically. So this is me PUTTING that content out there in the void for someone to find, read, and share! Side note: I am yet again writing Black!Reader headcanons with a darker skinned!reader and 4 type hair!reader in mind unapologetically. <3

If you want to be tagged in any of my content, don’t be afraid to tell me via my ask box or through messages! Just remember to be clear about what specific kinds of content, characters, and fandoms you want me to tag you in or if you want to be put on my general tag list! I’m always looking to add more people and I’d be more than happy to add you (if you wish)! :3

If you were to describe Heimdall with just one word it would aggy lmfao

No really, he makes you want to kick both his ass and those grills in his teeth all the way to the Light of Alfheim

But regardless you fell for him because Reasons™

When you reflect upon why and how you did so, you can’t really come up with a definitive singular answer

Maybe it's because he treats you differently especially when it comes to teasing

It’s more playful than brutal like he is with others and it gives you boy who pulled your hair back in kindergarten cause he secretly likes you vibes

Whenever Heimdall does tease you, his body language is different as well

Less condensing and try me and more goading and trying to vy for your attention kinda thing

That and he smiles relentless while he does it, like a genuine heartwarming smile not I’ll eat your kids and your pets smile

Just imagine him walking backwards slowly on his heels while swinging his arms and bringing them forward occasionally to make a soft clapping sound

He’s poking fun at you tripping earlier and thinking that nobody saw you when he absolutely did

Your comeback is to ask him why he was staring at you in the first place

He replies with “I just liked what I saw.”

You jab back with "If I only liked what I see now back."

That’s another reason why he really likes you, you always have a comeback to his remarks when most don’t

You really don’t take his comments lying down and actively engage in fun spirited banter with him whether you're starting or finishing it

While others shy away from it and avoid that man like the PLAGUE

To be fair his demeanor and vibe with you is MUCH less hostile with others so nobody wanting to be around him is very understandable lmao

Even then when there’s moments were Heimdall steps outta line (and there are), you don’t hesitate to push back and check him

He NEEDS a s/o who can do that cause otherwise Heimdall won’t read, understand, or internalize boundaries and will eventually continue to keep going

Those moments where you check him are usually answered by long periods of silence from Heimdall or curt nods, he knows your limits, and chooses to respect them

Partly because you do the same with him, which for you is mainly out of respect, and cause you like him

On another note, Gulltoppr is y’all’s child I said what I said

You were deathly scared of them at first cause who the hell smuggled a whole ThunderCat into Asgard hELLO???

But after awhile you warmed up to the battle cat since Gulltoppr can see just how much Heimdall cares for you and if you’re good enough for Heimdall, you’re good enough for them

Heimdall often scolds you for feeding Gulltoppr apples and cheese a lot but you also scold Heimdall for not giving enough treats to them cause how else do you remind them that they’re doing a good job protecting Asgard???

When he’s not looking you like to give Gulltoppr head pats and belly rubs cause they do NOT get enough of those in their life

You’ve managed to persuade Heimdall to snuggle with you and Gulltoppr while he reads on his breaks and you bet that there’s even more cheese and apples involved in that

Now onto some stuff that’s more Black!Reader specific-

This man is a bit OBSESSED with your hair don’t @ me !!!

If your hair is longer, especially long enough to be in box braids or have extensions in, he will be in total and complete awe at them

Catch him staring at your hair whenever you’re in the Asgardian mess hall together

At some point the staring gets so frequent that you sorta call him out on it and he’ll just...freeze

Later on when you two are more alone he’ll go “So...how does THAT work?” and motion towards your head

Sure Heimdall braids his own hair from time to time but his braids are different in many ways

Speaking of Heimdall and braids, you bet your ass you braid his hair stop playin !!!

You’re kind of a whizz at it and he doesn’t let ANYONE touch his scalp so you’re fumbling with a gold mine here

Heimdall only trusts you to mess around with his golden locs and will only really allow you to see him with his hair down OR messy

Speaking of hair down, he’s down for you to do or help him in his hair care routine lmao

Washing it, brushing it, putting some kind of good smelling product in it, you name it

Also if you leave your hair care products just lying around he WILL sniff and try them out

SO if you’ve got some expensive stuff that’s really for your hair type usage only, you better hide it better next time

For revenge you can put his hair in cornrows and then watch it fall out the next day sksksk

Now back to your hair, even if you hair is short or you use wigs, he will still be intrigued by it

Imagine Heimdall being dumbfounded at your waves like WHy is the ocean on your head and HOw?

He will return the hair care time favour and learn how to take care of your hair if you wish

Will steal your bonnets, durags, and head scarves BEWARE

He claims that it was just “lying around” and that he needs to protect his hair too <3

You roll your eyes and just make sure to order more protective hair fabric for the both of you

If you ask him if he has any design requests, anything with gold ornate on it will suffice (similar to his outfit that he wears)

That way y’all can tell your stuff from one another’s and he can color coordinate with his own natural hair color

Also he WILL throw at you and or remind you to put on a bonnet, durag, or head scarf if you aren’t wearing one before you go to bed

Something else that he admires about you is definitely how different colors of clothing make your skin tone stand out

Heimdall always stands out honestly due to being albino and having gold teeth like even for an Aesir God

It admittedly is different and a bit unfamiliar for him to see someone with darker skin and textured hair

Though don’t get him wrong, he welcomes it with open arms

Especially whenever the two of you are in bed together, cuddling, and just lying there together

He likes to have the windows open and have you on whatever side of the bed is facing that particular window

Cause it means that when he wakes up before the sun rises, he gets to watch the sun come up, and bounce light off of your melanin <3

He will absodoodley lay with you in bed all day (for as long as he can get away with it) while he brushes his hands against certain parts of your skin that are being lit up by the sun

He’ll only get up to get you some food or shower, basically basic needs until he has no choice but to get up cause he’s The Watcher of Asgard™ n all that

You know that his love for you has to run DEEP if he’s slacking off on watching Asgard cause he’s too busy giving you the attention that he deserves

And his love does indeed run deeper than a Jotunn’s ass crack for you truly if Odin doesn’t really approve of his relationship with you and he still actively decides to continue it anyways knowing this

Regardless of what other people think, he knows where his love lies, with him every morning and night, in front of sunny windows while he caresses and admires them

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goodluckclove · 10 days

Text

The Hot Dog Scene (Migration Patterns Preview)

I feel like I have to include this to provide closure to those invested in my Hot Dog Discourse. It's a first draft so it might look different when the book comes out next year, but like...here it is. The Hot Dog Scene.

Edgar lingered. He looked tired in a positive way. Tired like how a person feels after they stop shouldering as much of their unimaginable burden. His eyes locked with Tenzin and he twitched an attempt at a smile.

“You want to get a hot dog?” Tenzin asked him.

He blinked, startled. “Excuse me?”

“Or chili fries, maybe? I’m probably going to get chili fries.”

“It’s the place next door,” Jude told him. “It’s good. They make a great Seattle dog.”

Edgar furrowed his brow. “What’s that?”

“Polish sausage with grilled onions and cream cheese.”

“They also,” Tenzin’s stomach lurched again and she sighed inwardly. “They also make regular hot dogs that humans can eat.”

Apparently all it took was the concept of a new type of hot dog to immediately start lifting Edgar’s spirits. “It’s – good?” He asked. “I never thought...I couldn’t even imagine that to be a thing that existed.”

Jude got this devilish look on zir face that Tenzin hated. “You’ve had a bagel with cream cheese and lox, right?”

“I suppose I have.”

“It’s the same idea! If Riley’s working the counter ask them to add grilled cabbage with a sprinkle of jalapeno brine. You won’t regret it.”

A slow, warm smile blossomed over Edgar’s face. He was excited, genuinely excited, despite the looming life-changing circumstances hanging just above their heads. Earlier today he was questioning if Scott would still love him under a new set of pronouns. Now all of that was rendered unimportant thanks to the promise of a singular, five-dollar hot dog.

It was childlike in a way that struck Tenzin right across the face. She knew then why Scott fell for him so instantly. Why Katy considered him family.

She bopped him with the corner of her briefcase and nodded towards the door. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go. I’m hungry.”

“Right now?” Edgar looked uncertain. “Don’t you still need to..?” Eventually his anticipation for a new flavor overtook whatever hesitation he had. “Uh – yeah! Yeah, okay. Cool!”

The hot dog place was dingy, yet clean. The checkered tiled floors were scuffed in the way that implied a heavy amount of foot traffic, while the furniture looked brand new. Tenzin and Edgar took a seat at the counter by the large window after they ordered.

Tenzin got a bite to eat here whenever she was in the area because it was a weird enough eatery to stock RC Cola. She sipped at the rim of her mug and enjoyed the icy, sweet fizz. Beside her Edgar watched out the window with the straw of his own glass held between his teeth.

“It’s interesting,” Edgar began.

Here we go. “What is?” Tenzin asked hesitantly, wiping her mouth with a napkin from the nearby dispenser.

“RC Cola is more sour than I expected. It’s not bad – I like how smooth it is. It’s like…” Edgar took a drink from the straw and analyzed it carefully. “Cinnamon, maybe. Some kind of orange or lemon, and – it’s crazy, but I almost get a hint of rose. It reminds me of kombucha.”

She didn’t even realize that Edgar got the same soda as her. It looked like he enjoyed it, though with much more thought than Tenzin tended to give to anything she ate or drank.

“Do you do that all the time?” She said. “Do you just analyze everything you taste?”

Edgar shrugged. “It helps me appreciate it.”

“You never just eat something just to eat it?”

He looked close to embarrassment, but something changed at the very last moment and he doubled down. “It feels more mindful to...know what I’m eating. And why I like it. How it makes me feel. I mean, growing up I didn’t always get – I don’t know. I like to be grateful for things like this.”

Tenzin let out a stifled laugh. She worried Edgar would take it personally, but when he spoke again there was a smile in his voice. “Do I sound like a crazy person?”

“You sound like a birthright.”

She looked at him sitting beside her. Edgar was newly relaxed – more so than usual, especially with it just being him and her on their own. He smiled easily with his eyes shimmering in a soft gold glow, one that held its potency without trouble. This might’ve been the first time she saw him use his abilities with total control. He looked in that moment like any other witch town member. If she noticed him in the Mess Hall she’d take him to be a new employee she just didn’t get a chance to meet yet.

And he was reading her now. Reading her like Regina used to when they first met. Or was he? Growing up Tenzin would see her mom’s eyes glow momentarily in moments of high emotion. Regina told her it was an empty gesture, a reflex that couldn’t actually gain any real information. Not from Tenzin. Not anymore.

Edgar wore another beaded bracelet around his wrist that she didn’t notice until now. It was done up in multiple colors, just a repeating line of black and gray and white and green. She recognized the Agender pride flag as one of the gender identities Scott, and by proxy Tenzin, were informed of in their childhood.

That must’ve been one intense conversation between Edgar and Jude. Tenzin was grateful she didn’t have to be the one to navigate it.

“You never showed her your work,” Edgar said, eyes pointed down towards Tenzin’s bag.

“Mm,” Tenzin quickly put on an indifferent demeanor. “Don’t really need to.”

Edgar raised his brow. “Really? We drove all this way.”

“Well that’s the thing, isn’t it? That’s exactly what Jude’s thinking right now. So when I go ahead and ignore most of what ze told me to do, ze can’t get that upset,” Tenzin raised her drink to punctuate her point. “Because we drove all this way.”

“Clever,” Edgar said.

He said that with both sarcasm and admiration. Very recently she described Edgar as her brother. He technically was in at least a few senses. Absolutely not in many others.

When they met Tenzin was so crazed by her Knight’s Bond that she elbow struck him off his feet and could’ve easily beaten him to death. She cleaned the blood off his face once she healed him and he sat so carefully, not even wincing at the sight of his own blood.

It could be that he was used to the sight. The smell. The taste, even. Enough so that it didn’t surprise him anymore.

I won’t let anything put you in danger, she told him when he lingered in the car before meeting Regina. Tenzin meant it, too. She couldn’t explain why and even now the reasons confused and aggravated her.

The cashier that took their order came by with two baskets with hot dogs and fries. The teen placed one in front of each of them, muttered a weak bon appetite, and retreated back to the register.

Edgar’s attention was fully enraptured by the meal. He looked down at it and grinned. His eyes were massive and bright with shy excitement. Tenzin wonders how something so tarnished could be cleaned to glimmer so brightly.

It is unfair for Tenzin to feel an echo her feelings for Scott reflected in a separate human being. It just wasn’t right.

She took a french fry from the pile in her basket and bit into it. It was hot, but no too hot.

“How is it?” Edgar asked, hushed and eager.

Tenzin ate another fry. “Uh – good?” She attempted. “It’s...crispy. Salty. Made of – potato.”

Edgar picked up a french fry. It was a french fry. It was the first result in a stock image search of the word french fry and did not deserve remotely as much focus as Edgar was giving it.

“You know what I don’t see a lot of?” He looked at Tenzin but didn’t give her time to answer. “Waffle fries. Why do you think that is?”

He’s supposed to be the normal one, Tenzin thought in stunned silence. He’s supposed to be the one that got to be a regular human being.

Edgar didn’t look like he noticed her silence. “I think they’re harder to fry. That’s just my theory though. I never got to work a deep fryer,” he ate the fry in his hand and smiled. “Ooh, it’s fresh.”

He took a sip of his soda and took a deep breath, rubbing his hands in private anticipation. Edgar Gallows was the origin of Scott’s agony for his entire life, and now the guy was revving himself up to eat a hot dog. Treating it like he was about to land a perfect back flip on the first try. How did the events of Tenzin’s life lead up to this of all things?

She watched Edgar tenderly handle his Seattle-style hot dog, a title of which sounded deeply questionable since Tenzin had been to Seattle for business and didn’t see anyone slathering their processed meat with cream cheese. She wasn’t sure if it was an actually style native to the city as a whole. It was far more likely to her that some pervert thought himself clever and decided to make Washington worse as a result of it.

Edgar bit into the end and chewed. His focus was refined and laser sharp, but Tenzin knew she could’ve left the restaurant right now and he wouldn’t notice her absence until she was halfway home.

An entire conversation was being held with himself through the slight twitch of his brow and narrowing of his large eyes. The gold returned in a soft shimmer, showing just how much emotional stimulation Edgar was getting from just one bite.

He’s...reading the intentions? Tenzin truly felt one misstep away from losing her mind. Is Edgar reading the intentions of his hot dog?

She smiled deliriously thinking about it. Then, softly, she began to laugh. Eventually the sound was loud enough to attract Edgar’s attention. He swallowed and smiled sheepishly.

“’S good,” he said.

Tenzin tried to speak and could only laugh. She held her hand over her mouth, lolled her chin down to her chest, and laughed even harder. By the time Tenzin finally got a hold of her senses Edgar was already halfway done with his hot dog. He ate calmly and paid little mind to her hysterics. Edgar remained perfectly satisfied with the situation he was in.

“It’s really good,” he clarified while she caught her breath. “It’s probably top – top five. In my list of hot dogs.”

“It’s not even number one?” Tenzin’s voice was hoarse from laughter and she was forced to drink some cola to dull the burn. “Ah. Ah man. What a shame.”

“No, it’s good!” Edgar grinned. “I always love to try a new food.”

He looked happy. The affection Tenzin felt for him in that moment was stark and disorientating. It was something long-sleeping in her chest suddenly startled out of hibernation.

This was her brother. No. Yes. Maybe. The answer didn’t matter as much as Tenzin’s new conviction. Edgar was here now, after all this time, and there was no point resenting him for things he didn’t know, understand, or have any control over.

Scott was willing to die in his search for Eddie. If he didn’t find Edgar when he did, he likely would be dead. Or worse. But none of that happened, and now the two of them could sit together and eat a strange and slightly sacrilegious hot dog.

Edgar went back to happily eating. Tenzin decided to join him then, and she picked up the soft bun and bit into the sausage. She tried to focus on what she was eating. It was – crispy? Crispy, but not crunchy. It tasted like cooked meat and tangy cream – so creamy meat, but not like that because that sounds terrible.

It was okay.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writing #authors of tumblr #queer writers #actually writing #migration patterns #novel excerpt #book excerpt #writing excerpt #the hot dog scene #hot dog discourse

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harrywavycurly · 11 months

Note

Can I request more face timing Eddie with reader (wrong number, right time)? Maybe cooking together or watching more movies?

I love their interactions, real soulmates ❤️❤️

Hiii lovey!! Uhg aren’t they just such soulmates??? Of course you can get some more FaceTime type conversations! I hope you enjoy this!💖

-find all things Wrong Number, Right Time here✨

*Eddie doesn’t know why he agreed to watch you make dinner because now it’s 11 at night and he’s hungry*

“What’s that?” “What’s what?” “That stuff you’re putting in the sauce?” “It’s called salt Eddie…” “oh yours is in a fancy little…bottle.” “It’s just a green salt shaker Eddie…good lord you need to get out more vampy.” “Hey I’m usually face down in the pillows by now okay? Cut me some slack.” “Well you shouldn’t have agreed to have dinner with me then that’s your own fault.” “So what exactly are you making?” “Just some pasta and a pesto sauce.” “Why is it…green?” “Oh my little vampire boy…you’re totally hopeless aren’t you?” “No…not like…totally hopeless…I don’t think?” “What’s on the menu over at the Munson house?” “I had spaghetti o’s…and a grilled cheese.” “Oh that sounds good…how was your day?” “It was…a day…I had to change Nancy’s muffler and it was a stubborn bitch.” “Who? Nancy?…don’t call her names Eddie.” “No no not Nancy the muffler was being stubborn…so uhm…any uh..plans for next week?” “Nothing too exciting just work and seeing a movie with Melissa on Friday…” “oh nice…what movie?” “Some comedy I think? Not sure she picked it…” “oh cool cool…that’s…cool.” “You okay vampy?” “Yeah yeah I’m fine sorry…just tired so show me the gross looking sauce of yours.” “It’s called pesto…”

#wrong number convos #eddie munson series #eddie munson soulmate au #eddie munson social media au #eddie munson friends to lovers #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x you fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

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bruciemilf · 1 year

Text

No, but Battinson and Simon "Ghost" Riley? Copy and paste. Emo in italics vs Emo in Bold.

For my " Alfred trained Ghost at some point and of course Bruce grows up with an annoying ass older brother" agenda.

I'm sorry, but I simply can't help but drool and cry and scream over Clark visiting the manor because Bruce demanded to keep traction of his powers, -

(translation: Bruce is worried and wants to offer healthcare to the indestructible Kryptonian in the best way he knows how)

-, and look. He can't exactly HELP peeking through privacy. But, honestly? A part of him feels like it's better.

He hasn't felt an ounce of awkwardness around Damian ever since he heard that " how to make friends" tutorial from his room. It's easier to make eye contact with Jason when Clark knows he cries at Little Women. (He gets it. He does, too.)

And Tim can't really intimidate him like he used to now that Clark knows he needs a tutorial on how to grill cheese.

He likes it. Its not a bridge, not quite yet, but it IS a foundation.

One thing IS curious, thought. Alfred.

Alfred, whose warm voice is very comforting, like a spoon of sugar In a cup of mint tea,

" I don't suppose you'll be visiting soon, love?"

There's one detail that actually MAKES Clark want to listen. He didn't know Alfred's accent had a twang of Manchester to it.

But it's the voice on the other line, - gruff, grainy but pleasant, deep and whispery, - that stirs his curiosity,

" Don't tell me Bambi's dyin' to see me?"

Bambi?

" He specifically instructed me not to invite you again, actually. He's never quite recovered from that tea bag incident."

Faint gun sounds. Then a deep, chilling silence, " Ain't my fault no one thought 'em street combat. Soap says hi, by the way. Price still waitin' on that dinner date."

" Tell him to come here and get it. If he dares. And bring John at once! This silent pining of yours won't get you anywhere."

A pause, in which Clark feels an invisible pressure settle over him. He feels cornered. It's foreign, and nasty, on the wrong side of admiration.

" ...I'll see you in a blink, Pop."

" See you then, love."

When Bruce comes back, elegant, dainty, violence stained hands full with sweet treats Clark has no taste for, entirely for him only, he burns to ask about this mystery son.

But then again, it's really funny seeing Bruce on the receiving end of being investigated. He has no clue how Clark finds these things out, putting Superman above petty things like eavesdropping.

Clark Kent, however, won't bother. It's way too much fun.

If he had half a mind to ask, then maybe future Clark would know how to prepare for Simon "Ghost - AKA Bruce Wayne's Tank Older Brother " Riley better.

Why Am I looking up why am I looking up why am I looking, -

"You're hard to kill."

" ...Thank you."

" It's not a compliment. "

Bruce pouts, - and a fragment of Clark, who's currently doing his best not to hide behind his cape like an overfed 6 year old (because good lord, that mask), is endeared.

It's nice to see Bruce like this, - grumpy but relaxed and filled with loving annoyance. " This could've been a Facebook message."

Ghost shrugs, big hand messing up Bruce's hair, all bored and affectionate, " We celebratin' Jay's 9th birthday, don't we? Can't do that over call."

" Jay is 23."

Ghost shrugs, " I stopped counting after Dick, Bambi."

That...Was adorable. In a messed up, way too accurate manner.

"Besides," And Jason clearly learned " stabs you with a single stare" from the right person, " I heard it's open season in Gotham."

Clark gulps behind his smile.

#if dc refuses to give bruce cool older siblings guess what???? i will #clark kent #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #simon ghost riley #simon riley #dc x cod #cod mw2 #batfam #batfamily #protective simon riley #soft bruce wayne #superbat

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sparklyslug · 2 years

Note

hi! if you are still looking for prompts, steve/eddie, one of them cooking or otherwise preparing food for the other one. if you are not still looking for prompts, totally ok! either way, hope things are looking up for you.

Ask Steve a year ago what his favorite food was, he’d probably struggle with the question a little, internally. Say something simple like, a burger. Steak. Pizza. Just because he knows that’s like, what foods people like. Those are the Favorite Food Groups. And he likes them too, likes them plenty. Has just felt kind of food-neutral, honestly, for most of his life. He’s eaten fancy catering at his parents lavish dinner parties, buckets of KFC at modest kitchen tables, and his own simple chicken and broccoli standing up at the counter alone at the house. And felt kind of the same about all of it. Food was food, generally. Favorite didn’t really make sense, as a concept to apply to it.

That was then, though. He gets it. He has a favorite food now.

Eddie has tied his hair back with one of his banadas, shoulders on display and almost irresistible in one of the cutoff tanks he likes in the summer, this one an old Hawkins Basketball shirt of Steve’s that also has a hole right over the nipple (why he had initially stopped wearing it, and why Eddie had quickly claimed it before lopping the arms and a good four inches off the bottom of it, because he thinks shit like that is hilarious). The whole look is pretty well calculated to drive Steve out of his mind, a goal Eddie had made short work of just about an hour ago.

He’d finally pulled himself up off Steve’s chest, face red and glowing, and shook his hair out of his eyes before saying “shit, I could eat. Grilled cheese sound good?”

It did sound good. Sounded fantastic. Sounded like Steve’s favorite food, is what it sounded like.

So shirt’s back on and hair’s tied back, but Steve is keeping his hands to himself, just sitting back and watching Eddie at work. Head mercifully clear and nicely floaty, body feeling heavy and warm and right, and yeah, definitely ready for some food.

He’s watched Eddie make his grilled cheese a hundred times or whatever, and he doesn’t get how it turns out so fucking good. It’s not a complicated process. Getting the pan warmed up, buttering both sides of a couple of creamy-white slices of bread. Four slices of plastic-wrapped cheese per sandwich, always, Eddie carefully tearing some of them in half to create even layers, not too much cheese stacked in the middle or at the ends.

The butter smells amazing at the bottom of the pan. Smells fantastic when the bread hits it with a little pop, a tiny sizzle.

Eddie’s gorgeous doe eyes are narrowed in concentration as he works, pressing the flat of a spatula down on the top of each sandwich. This is the stage at which Steve is least likely to catch an elbow, while Eddie is just watching the pan and waiting for the universe or some kitchen god to send him a signal that it’s time for the Almighty Flip.

“Got a gig tomorrow, mmm?” Steve asks, sliding his arms around Eddie’s waist, and tucking his chin over one shoulder.

“Eddie Munson, unplugged,” Eddie confirms. “Jesus I really have to try and find a band soon.”

“I’ll keep looking in the papers,” Steve promises, with a grin.

“Send me on another synth-pop goose chase and I will absolutely shave you bald in your sleep,” Eddie swears, brandishing the spatula into the empty space in front of him, since he can’t reach Steve to swat him with it. Small victories.

“Never again, I promise,” Steve lies. “Think that one’s ready.”

“It’s not,” Eddie says. “I’m nervous about playing acoustic, man.”

Steve knows he is, he’s been jittery about it ever since he confirmed with the organizer that he’d be playing the open mic. “You’ll kill it,” Steve says. Squeezes him a little tighter, enjoying Eddie’s little bitchy oof of protest. “You don’t need an amp to blow the roof off the place.”

Eddie ducks his head a little, shy and pleased. Steve presses his lips against the top notch of his spine, nosing Eddie’s hair out of the way to get to skin.

Enjoys the way Eddie shivers a little, the skin at the back of his neck maybe extra sensitive because of how it’s covered all the time. It’s a theory Steve is happy to keep exploring for a good, long while.

“Okay,” Eddie says, softly. “Now this one is ready.”

Steve peers over his shoulder. “I have no idea how you can tell that.”

Eddie shrugs, and Steve knows his face has got to be fucking smug as hell without even being able to fully see it. “What can I say,” he says. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Well, that’s just a fact, and Steve starts listing them in an undertone directly into Eddie’s ear, until Eddie is shifting a little in his arms, and laughing, and elbowing him out of the way just when Steve feels his breath catch, the shift in his hips– “sit the fuck down, you animal,” Eddie says, twisting enough to sink a hand in Steve’s hair and reel him in for a quick, sweet kiss. “Food first, seduction later.”

“You’re too good to me,” Steve says. It doesn’t… ah, fuck. It doesn’t come out even remotely like a joke.

Eddie though, Eddie’s eyes just go soft. His full, gorgeous lips twist into a small smile. “Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart. Now. Plates and napkins, please.”

Steve obeys, though they don’t even really need them– Eddie slices the finished sandwiches into neat triangles on the cutting board, and hands one right off to Steve, still loitering and half-draped over him. The cheese is perfectly melted and gooey in the middle, the bread crisped just right and saturated with golden melted butter. The noise he makes at the first bite is genuine bliss, eyes closing to savor the taste. When he opens them again, Eddie’s holding the other half of the sandwich in his hands, eyes on Steve, mouth a little open like he’d lost track of what they were doing here.

The noise Steve makes at the second bite, okay, that’s for show. And Eddie knows it, kicking a bare foot at his shin with a laugh.

They polish off the sandwiches in no time at all. You want to savor something that perfect, Steve thinks, but it’s hard to take it slow when you know how good every bite will be. And when you know there’s a bed waiting for you at the end of it, a bed with Eddie Munson in it, and a whole afternoon stretched blissfully ahead of you both.

Yeah. Favorite food. Grilled Cheese By Eddie Munson. No question.

#thank you darling i'm feeling much better!#a night of halloween faves and fic writing is good for all ills #though now i REALLY AM CRAVING A GRILLED CHEESE FUCK #ty for the prompt!#steddie as she goes boys #stranger things fic #my fic #prompts #asks #that's all for tonight but there are SO MANY FUN ONES STILL TO GET TO and I have time this week so that's my plan YAAAAY #mop

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ashes-writing · 1 year

Text

stranger things ● the new girl pt 7 ● g.emerson

warning

heaaavy kissing / saliva shared. petnames (bunny, sweetheart, angel), PDA, a lil angsty but sweet, there is/will still be bullying, confrontations, smoking/ w**d / alch + parentless house parties cos teen drama/romance, total absence of sci fi plot and no deaths. 1 through 3 did not happen, either. Gareth is aged to 18 so.. season 4 = his senior year.

<- reader/you is female, with female parts, clothing/personality/hair/petnames and nicknames. this is self indulgent, when is it not with me, and i am.. not even a little sorry either.

word count

2762 exactly. for any missing context part 6 <- click to read.

summary

He pulls you onto his lap and you lock eyes, swallowing down a huge lump the second it starts to build in your throat. “Gareth?” you question, confused.. Because it hasn’t quite clicked for you.

taglist + shoutouts

-- taglist is here <- click to be taken to the doc and added. if you're here for eddie/steve or other characters and you don't want to be tagged in my Gareth writings, please lmk.

@tbmunson bestie. babes..babeeee. i love you sooooo much and i really hope you're having a good day today. also, this may be hella fluffy, oops rip. your daily reminder that you inspire me.

@littlestarfighter03

@nana90azevedo you are toooo sweet, omg. your comments had me giggling and kicking my feet and you don't know how much they mean to me, you really do not. thank you!

@allelitesmut

@chaoticcancer

@caravelofthesun

@dylanwritesgood

@eddiemuns0nl0ver

@just-a-blue-nerd

@slyisbehindyou

other links

masterlist ● gareth's masterlist ● about + rules

You’re settled in on the sofa with a stacked plate of grilled cheese and Sprite. Young and The Restless is just starting but you can’t pay attention, your mind won’t just shut down like you want it. You keep thinking about what happened at school this morning. And it’s not even the rumors -or Molly choosing something you told her, a traumatic time for you, to use against you and hurt you when it’s not even true.

It’s the fact that no thanks to these stupid rumors starting up all over again, you’re almost absolutely certain that by the time Gareth Emerson hears them, he’s going to write you off like so many others in the past.

And you don’t even blame him, it’s not like you were a thing. You wanted to be with him. Everything feels a little better when he’s around. But now, you think to yourself, that’s likely not going to happen.

You take a few shaky breaths and wipe your eyes.

“I’ll get her back.” you mumble.

You’ve only just taken a bite of the sandwich and it’s like sandpaper in your mouth but you refuse to just not eat. You’ve just tossed the sandwich back onto the plate for now when you hear a vehicle door slam shut.

,, probably just the lady next door.” the thought comes and you turn your attention back to attempting to follow the storyline of the soap opera, sipping your Sprite. And you don’t even realize you’re crying again until you feel the warmth of tears slipping down your cheeks again.

The silence in the house is almost oppressive right now. It’s crushing.

A little too thick, a little too much. You’re overthinking everything.

The door’s being knocked on and you jump a little at the burst of sound as it intrudes.

“Damn it, guys.” you mumble as you slip off the couch. You’re not even bothering with the formality of actual clothing because you’re at least 90 percent sure that it’s just Mari, Edie and Adi because they called earlier and even though you told them you were fine a thousand and one times, they said they’d come over later. After school.

So you’re not expecting to throw open the door to your parents house and find Gareth Emerson standing on the other side. Leaning in the doorway, filling up the frame.

“G-gareth?”

His cheeks are on fire and he doesn’t have the first fucking clue what to say. But he knows you’ve been crying, from the looks of it, you’ve been crying since you walked out of school earlier. He steps up to you, pulling you closer by the hips. “ ‘S okay.. C’mere, bunny.” he’s quiet. Coaxing you right into his arms which he wraps around you. You break. And you’re crying all over again, soaking the white part of his Hellfire shirt in inky mascara tears. All he does is stand there and hold you, hands moving up and down your back to soothe you.

You’re choking up as you tell him everything, all of it. Including every single rumor that went around about you at your old school so he’d have context as to why you’re so upset right now.

“Hey.. Shhh.” Gareth coaxes, gripping your jaw to make you look up at him because even though it’s killing him to see you this upset, he wants you to know that he doesn’t believe anything Molly’s been saying to anyone who will listen all day. He had a grand speech well-planned and rehearsed on his way over, but.. He’s in front of you right now and that’s all gone out the window.

,, She loves you, man. Do somethin’. Fix this.” the thought comes and it’s what prompts him to pick you up, step into the house as he’s holding you in his arms. You’re deposited on the couch and he goes back to your front door, shutting and locking it.

You’re still making an attempt to process why he’s even here to begin with, Hawkins is really, really small.. Surely he had to have heard everything Molly started up all over again -or some twisted and over the top version of it. He seats himself on the sofa again and pulls you close. Lets you lay your head on his shoulder. And for a long pause, minutes that drag out to hours it seems, you both sit there in total silence. You’ve calmed down just a little, he can hear and feel the way your breath has leveled out.

“You’re missing lunch, Gareth.” you mumble quietly. He glances down at you and shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. They were having that congealed whatever anyway.”

“O-oh.” you stammer around the O and take a shaky breath or two. And you can’t take it anymore, you have to ask the question.

“You uh.. You’re here. And still talkin’ to me.” you go quiet, the question you were about to ask falling flat because you got halfway there and you realized that maybe you don’t want the answer after all.

It clicks for him then. The one thing you were most afraid of. Probably a big reason you left school walking after you got out of the principals office earlier. And normally, he wouldn’t even let himself have the teeniest sliver of hope but he heard you say everything you did out of your own mouth this morning.

You’re in love with him.

And he’s in love with you too.

It’s something he’s still trying to get his head around, even now as he sits here in your living room.

His hand raises, rests against the column of your neck. The pad of his thumb rolls over your cheek. “I didn’t believe her.”

You blink. “You..” you go quiet. The relief washes over you in waves and you’re shifting around in his lap. Trying to get comfortable without invading his personal space too much because you’re just so afraid to do anything that might mess everything up right now. Gareth’s hand lowers and both arms wrap around your body, pulling you against him completely. He keeps his arms around you and you lean your head against his shoulder, your nose nuzzled into the side of his neck.

You don’t mean to blurt it out when you do but it comes out anyway. “The worst part about all of this was that I was afraid you would believe her and I…” you go quiet because you stop yourself when you realize you’re probably just about to say too much. Your face hidden in his neck, you can feel the way his pulse is beating strong and steady and you focus on that. Calming yourself down.

“You what, bunny?” Gareth asks after a second or two of trying -and failing, to pull himself together because the way you’re melted against him while sitting on his lap is definitely having an effect right now and the last thing he wants is to make things weird or awkward. “C’mon. You can tell me anything, okay?I-I mean it.”

You nod. Sit up a little and now you’re staring down at the way your bodies connect as you sit in his lap. “I didn’t wanna lose you.. Because of this. I’m..” your breath catches in your throat before you can get anything else out and Gareth raises a hand, gripping your jaw so you have to look at him. “You’re..” he prompts quietly, “Just say it.. Please?”

“ I’m in love with you.” you mumble, swallowing hard as you say it. “You don’t.. Like.. you don’t have to feel the same way, it’s okay if you don’t, really, I–” your words are cut off because he leans in, his mouth collides with your mouth, a thick pink tongue splitting your lips to massage alongside your own after he’s ran it over your teeth. One of his hands leaves your hips and tangles up in the thick mess of hair on your head, tugging your mouth deeper until you’re breathless and he’s panting, trying to catch his breath without breaking the kiss because right now, it’s the last thing he wants to do. “What if I wanna, bunny? What if I feel that way too, huh?”

“You.. you do?” your words are swallowed by the slow and steady deepening of the kiss and as the shock starts to wear off, you both pull apart to breathe and stare at each other. Wild eyed and breathless. You raise a hand, settling it against the column of his neck as you continue to try and process what he’s just said.

It changes everything.

Unless he doesn’t want it to, you think to yourself, the thought makes you frown just a little and he picks right up on the little frown, leaning forward, into you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin, it’s just I..” you laugh at yourself. ,, do not push this. Just let it happen. Stop trying to push for more. “

You shove the thought out.

“C’mon.” he coaxes, “Talk to me, beautiful girl.”

And he’s doing it again, he’s making you look him in the eyes. And it’s him, you can’t keep anything from him, it’s nearly driven you crazy to keep your feelings hidden the past few weeks. You swallow hard. “I wanna be.” you trail off because it’s so hard to blurt it out right now. “Your girl.” you finish softer, voice barely a whisper. But he hears it and he shifts the way he’s sitting because he’s trying not to have a raging boner in the middle of a very delicate situation because he wants all his focus to be on you and what you need right now.

“You..” he’s trying to process. He feels like he could fly, what you’ve just said is everything he wants too. His hands slide up and down your sides before settling on your face. His forehead meets yours and he chuckles quietly, cheeks burning hot, a feverish blush covering his entire body. “ You wanna be my girl? All mine?”

You nod. You can feel your skin burning. You shift in his lap because you’re trying to get closer, you’re trying to get ready to hide your face in the side of his neck again. But then he’s guiding your mouth back to his own, greedy. Hungry. A kiss filled with teeth as they nip your lips and tug until you feel aching, bruises raise to the surface of your soft pout. As the kiss breaks, he pulls away and he’s just staring at you. Quiet. Trying to process everything because today has been a whirlwind.

“You are, bunny.” he mumbles at last, leaning into you all over again. His forehead against yours and big blue eyes fixed intently on you. Your hand raises, fingers clutch against the front of his Hellfire shirt, gripping to pull him in even closer, his mouth deepening the kiss, his tongue massaging yours lazily. You’re giggling quietly through the last of your tears.

“I think everybody ganged up on Molly. She left cryin.” Gareth mutters against the crown of your head when the kiss breaks for a while and you settle in against him. You look up, nodding. “I should’ve just punched her this morning.”

“But it’ll be okay now, alright? I mean that.”

You take a few shaky breaths and you nod because you know. He isn’t lying. He does mean it.

He’s probably the only person you actually feel like you can trust.

“Gare?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he’s staring down at you, a pounding heart and the only thought in his brain is that he’s the definition of a lucky bastard. He caresses your cheek and you open your mouth only to close it several times. You’re frustrated with yourself, he can tell. Your cheeks are pink. He leans down to press a kiss against your hairline. “Just say it, ‘s okay.”

“C-can I come with you? You know… to your Hellfire thing? Don’t wanna be..” you start to say you don’t want to be alone but it’s still very much ingrained deep in you that you’re pathetic if you need someone, a holdover from all the times you’ve had to tell yourself that just to keep from trying to reach out, trying to let people in.

“Course, bunny.” he answers and you smile up at him. The two of you settle in, the television becomes mostly background noise until Gareth leans forward, reaching out for the remote you’ve sat on the low table in front of the sectional, bringing you with him as he leans. You give a weak laugh and he kisses the bridge of your nose. “How d’ you even watch this crap, angel?”

You shrug. “General Hospital is better but Helena, that bitch was on today and she annoys me so..” you laugh softly, the laughter dying away as soon as you realize blue eyes are locked on your lips and he’s leaning in all over again.

“I’m never gunna be able t’ stop doing this.” he says it as if he’s apologizing as his mouth meets yours and you sigh into the kiss, your mouth falling open to accommodate his tongue’s invasion easily. “I’m never gonna want you to stop.” you admit, breathless.

–

The door to the drama classroom opens and Eddie chuckles to himself. “You finally make it, Emerson?”

“What the hell happened?” Mike Wheeler asks, fuming to himself about having to wait to start the campaign as Gareth flips him off and takes his usual seat at the table after he’s dragged up a chair so you can sit beside him.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks, gazing at you in concern. You smile and nod. Just the slightest hint of color creeps into your cheeks. Doe eyes settle on a few telling marks on both your neck and Gareth’s neck and he locks eyes with Gareth to mouth, “Finally?”

You’re toying with the necklace he slipped onto your neck and Eddie catches sight of light glinting off of the silver skull, nearly choking.

He nods to Gareth, calls his name when he realizes Gareth isn’t actually paying attention. “Emerson, hey.. C’mere, man.”

Gareth wanders over to the side of the classroom Eddie’s standing on, staring out the window.

“What?”

“She’s wearing your necklace. Wanna explain? Did you fuck? What happened?”

“Later, man. But no. No, we didn’t, okay? But..” Gareth chuckles quietly. “She is my girl. Mine. So none of that stupid flirty shit, alright?”

Eddie chuckles, and he’s snickering until he sees the stern warning look in his best friends blue eyes. “Her little friend the future librarian.. Uh.. she’s more my speed, dude.”

Gareth nearly chokes at this and he’s gaping. “Since when?”

Eddie blows out an exasperated breath and he’s stammering, he’s grumbling and he’s tugging at his hair. “We uh.. We may or may not have had words earlier… I-In the hall. She was goin’ t’ go into the bathroom and kick in the stall door on Molly before she left. Maybe I calmed her down. Either way, I physically prevented Molly’s murder and Edie, she uh.. She was not happy about it. How’s somethin’ so cute so goddamned murdery, dude?”

Gareth’s doubled over laughing by now because of all of the group, Eddie Munson is the last person one would think gets flustered easily, but here he is. Face all flushed, stammering over his words. Frustrated beyond belief. “Oh, it’s bad bad.” Gareth says it as he stops laughing.

“Fuck you, Emerson.”

“Can we start the damn campaign now?” Mike Wheeler is frustrated.

“Keep your goddamn pants on, kid.” Eddie replies, giving the black haired boy a stern look. Gareth sinks down into the chair beside the one he dragged over for you to sit in and you lean in against his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you sit in on the beginning of a new DnD campaign.

And from what you’re seeing, it definitely looks like a fun game. You’re just not entirely sure you’d ever be able to come close to grasping the complex rules and the thought of an entire character you’d have to come up with, well.. You know you couldn’t do that.

But it’s fun to watch your boyfriend.

At the thought, your heart’s fluttery all over again.

Gareth Emerson is your boyfriend.

This is.. Not how you saw the day ending, not at all.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson fic #gareth emerson imagines #gareth emerson x fem!reader #gareth emerson x you #gareth emerson x yn #<- my writing ● gareth emerson #<- warning | see above but also kissing/pda/saliva + use of petnames #fandom ( stranger things ) ● season ( 4 - complete no sci fi au ) ● character ( g. emerson )

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littlemisspascal · 2 years

Text

Mailroom Crush Part 8

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word Count: 2900+

Summary: A story about Reader who works in the mailroom of the embassy and her encounters with a handsome, brown-eyed DEA agent.

Warnings: Language, fluff, angst, harassment--Stechner needs a warning all for himself, mild violence (a punch), blood, inaccurate depiction of an embassy mailroom, this is only loosely based on canon of Season 3 so the timeline does not 100% match the show’s

Author Note: *awkwardly throws this out there after several months of nothingness* Thank you everyone for the lovely support! Hope you enjoy this 💝

PART 7

Javier’s absence is sorely felt from the moment you first enter the embassy the following morning. The hours seem to drag by at a snail’s pace, your lunch break a depressingly lonely affair filled with worrisome thoughts about what your boyfriend’s doing right now. How was his flight? Has he arrested Franklin yet? What if there was a fight between them? What if he’s been hurt?

You try to keep yourself busy to avoid overthinking things, offering to make Riley’s delivery rounds for her which she happily accepts. But even the usually bustling and loud atmosphere outside of the mailroom seems to have lost its energy, staff members quiet and on edge.

Recognizing your increasing anxiety, Riley sets up a radio on her desk to fill the silence. The music notes fill the space like water in a bathtub, slowly lulling you into a relaxed state as you organize a pile of letters. It’s almost as if a protective bubble has formed, and as long as you stay in it, everything’s alright. Javier will come home safe and sound. You’ll have another grilled cheese date together. Life will carry on like usual.

An hour later, Stechner strolls into the mailroom, the smarmy smirk on his face a needle putting a fatal end to your peaceful sanctuary. He walks right up to you, circling around the table and bracing his hip against the edge like he’s got all the free time in the world to bother you with more of his taunts.

You don’t think it’s a coincidence he’s chosen this precise moment to enter the mailroom when Riley’s stepped out to grab a snack from the vending machine. No witnesses means he’s free to speak whatever’s on his mind.

Stechner clears his throat, causing the hair on the back of your neck to prickle. He’s looking at the bundle of letters in your hands, mouth curled at the corner in what you would call a friendly smile on any other person in the universe. With him it only has your spine tensing up even more.

“You’re a hard worker, that’s a good character trait to have,” he says as casually as someone would comment on the weather. “You’re pretty, too, always a plus. It’s just a shame you display some shaky judgment in men.”

It takes all your self-control not to clench your hands. Think of the letters, you tell yourself, neatly arranging them in a pile. People would be mad to receive torn and crinkled mail.

“You and Peña, still going strong I’ve seen,” he continues, looking at his cuticles now. You can’t help noticing how short his nails are, cut down to the plate, no hint of white. Or, maybe not trimmed, but chewed off. Maybe the man isn’t as immune to stress as he likes to present himself. “I guess it’s true what they say, true love prevails no matter the opposition.”

Before you can bite your tongue, you find yourself responding, “Opposition? Is that what you call those pictures you sent me? Because I think a better term for them would be ‘misleading’. They didn’t exactly tell the whole story.”

“Maybe not,” Stechner agrees, a mocking note in his voice. “But around here nobody ever knows the whole story. Not even certain dashingly handsome DEA agents.”

Your eyebrows lift, annoyance buzzing under your skin. It’s growing steadily harder with every conversation with the CIA Station Chief to resist being dragged into the grudge match between him and Javier. You still don’t know your boyfriend’s reasons behind his obvious detestation, but at this point it’s not necessary for you to know them to join his side. You have your own laundry list fueling your disdain.

“Let me tell you something, honey, maybe it will make you hate me a little less or maybe not but,” he lifts a shoulder, not at all bothered which way you feel about him, “there’s always going to be new bad guys to fight. That’s what happens when there’s a war going on. And this particular battle with Cali, it needs soldiers willing to follow orders. Not heroes sticking their noses where they don’t belong and certainly not naive little mailroom clerks.”

Your vision seems to tunnel, teeth grinding against each other. The idea of stabbing this man with a letter opener abruptly comes to mind, but your limbs remain frozen stiff.

“I thought a little push might put you back in your lane, but no such luck,” he continues with a woeful sigh, and you feel something caged inside of you begin to rise to the surface. “I get it though. Really. Guy like Peña pays a nobody like you some attention, flirts a bit, takes you home…it would be hard for anyone to wanna close their legs. There’s not exactly a line of men waiting to fill the void. Although, if I’m being honest, I’d be tempted to try.”

Crunch.

It’s supremely satisfying to feel bone break beneath your knuckles and watch blood gush from his nostrils, staining the front of his suit jacket. Stechner lets out a pained grunt, grabbing at his face and staggering backwards a step. You relish the sight. He’s not untouchable. He’s just as fragile as any other man.

Riley walks into the mailroom then. All it takes is one glance at the scarlet fountain pouring out of Stechner’s broken nose to have her gasping aloud. “Oh my God!”

Her shout is a bucket of ice water on your anger. Dread swells in your chest, clawing at your insides, and you’re suddenly aware of how much your trembling hand is throbbing.

Oh fuck what have you done.

Several staff members have appeared in the doorway now, drawn by Riley’s distress. Their gazes dart between you and Stechner, putting the pieces together and murmuring amongst themselves.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Stechner’s saying to a worried Riley who’s offering him a box of tissues. “Just a difference of opinions.”

It doesn’t matter what filth he’d said to you, that he’s smiling right now through his bloody teeth. At the end of the day, you’re a lowly mail clerk and he’s the CIA Station Chief. This was a battle you were destined to lose.

Naturally, you expect to be fired for your transgressions. You punched an extremely important and respected government official, it only made sense to cut all ties with you immediately.

You walk into Ambassador Crosby’s office thirty minutes later anticipating being told to pack your things and catch the first flight back home.

What you don’t anticipate, however, is being told you’re suspended for two weeks without pay. That the only reason you’re not walking out of there jobless is because Stechner apparently was gracious enough not to have hard feelings and insisted you stay, that the mailroom–no, the whole embassy in fact—benefited from your hard work and dedication to your tasks.

Ambassador Crosby says you should be grateful to be sticking around. But when you leave that’s the farthest emotion on the spectrum you feel.

You have no idea what Stechner’s weird mind game is, and yet you have the sinking feeling you played along exactly as he wanted you to.

Perhaps the only benefit of being suspended from work is now you have an abundant amount of free time to catch up on your chores. The pile of laundry has been overflowing for a good week or two, not to mention the dust bunnies multiplying underneath your couch.

Riley calls in the afternoon, probably on her lunch break given the amount of noise in the background. She balances the thin, blurry line between a concerned friend and a nosy coworker hungry for a piece of what she calls the most exciting gossip to ever spread through the embassy. You’ve gone from an unknown entity to a public spectacle overnight, everyone curious to know what made you snap.

You collapse on your bed after she tells you that, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how the hell is this your life. It’s definitely not anything close to what you thought it would resemble after losing that dumb bet with your mother. Maybe handling mail all day isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it’s safe, comfortable. Not a forever kind of thing, there’s still so much you want to do and see, but for right now it’s good.

Wonderful, actually, because without this job, without the mailroom that has become your second home, you never would have met Javier. Never would have known the sound of his laughter, how his jaw clenches when he’s frustrated, what he looks like with swollen lips and hair tousled by your fingers and half-lidded eyes dark with arousal. Your heart pangs painfully in your chest, missing him dearly.

He’s brought so much warmth into your life, so much of that precious unspoken feeling you think–no, you know you want to tell him, to whisper it against his lips, his skin. There’s no denying it anymore, no doubts or insecurities, just absolute certainty your heart belongs to him.

I love you, Javi darling. More than I’ve ever loved anyone else before.

It’s almost midnight and you can’t shut your brain off long enough to sleep. Your eyes burn with exhaustion, pajama-clad body sore after a full day of vacuuming and scrubbing and dusting, splayed out on your mattress. And yet, your thoughts are stubbornly wide awake, ricocheting off your skull like a dozen bouncy balls.

They’re not even coherent thoughts. More like…sensations. A silent alarm. An invisible clock counting down seconds. Anticipation of something about to happen, but what that ‘something’ is, whether it’s good or bad, you have no idea.

You’re contemplating a late-night snack, maybe even a movie, when there’s a knock at your front door echoing throughout the apartment.

You lift your head from your pillow, wondering if you’re so tired you’re hallucinating sounds now, if it’s–

Another knock, harder this time. A fist striking the wood without concern for bruises.

Throwing off the covers, you make the short trek across the apartment, footsteps cautious as you approach the door to peer out the peephole. There’s a second of disbelief that hits you because that’s–that’s Javier on the other side. Javier who’s supposed to be on a manhunt in another country. Javier who you’ve achingly missed these last two days. Your Javier who you love.

You can’t unlock the door fast enough, fingers trembling and breaths coming out in short pants. Wrenching it open, you all but throw yourself at the man, arms winding around his neck.

“You’re back,” you say needlessly, voice muffled against his throat where your face is buried. He returns the embrace just as tightly, hands roaming over your back and touching your hair, like he’s refamiliarizing himself with your body.

“Tesoro,” he murmurs, lips pressing against your temple, and the nickname comes out as a shuddered breath, thick with restrained emotions. Your heart skips a nervous beat, those antsy sensations flaring up beneath your skin.

Something’s wrong.

“Javi?” you ask, pulling back for a better look at his face. He won’t meet your eyes, jaw set so hard you worry he’ll hurt himself. It’s not because of anger though. You’ve seen him mad before, seen him with fire in his eyes and a snarl on his lips, and this isn’t that. This is…this is something worse.

This is a man who’s on the cusp of falling apart, holding on by his own stubborn willpower.

“I’m sorry for coming so late.” He swallows, throat bobbing, and something inside of you aches. “I just…I had to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, tugging on his hand. “Please, come on in.”

He follows without protest, through the door and past the couch, down the hall to your bedroom. With only the dim light of the lamp on your nightstand, everything’s softer around the edges, troubles not quite so heavy. You sit on the edge of the bed, Javier coming to stand in-between your legs, looming yet unthreatening, almost like he’s shielding you from the world. You grab onto his hand, find yourself tracing the creases and calluses. He’s lost one of his nails, the tender skin ugly and black, and you think about what that means. If it means anything at all.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, keeping your voice purposefully low, still staring at his hand. The fingers curl reflexively, a tremble he can’t quite repress.

“Oh, tesoro,” his answer seems to rumble out of the darkness, washing over you like icy rain, “I don’t even know where to start.”

You ignore the shiver of unease running down your backside, pulling instead at his arms and sleeves until he’s lying down on the bed beside you, faces scant inches apart, noses almost brushing. For the first time, you detect the faint scent of alcohol on Javier’s breath, brown eyes shining even in the dimness.

“Wherever you want,” you finally say, lacing your fingers with his. “I’ll catch up.”

And for a second time, Javier indulges your request to open up. Words tumble out of his mouth and are immediately soaked up by your ears. You say nothing, only listening, only gripping his hand.

Franklin Jurado has been arrested. His wife though, beautiful and blonde Christina, has been snatched away in the night by the very same cartel her husband works for. Her whereabouts? Currently unknown. She might not even still be alive. And without her by his side, Franklin refuses to cooperate. Javier’s case against the Cali Cartel has now become even twice as complicated. Has the risk of falling apart entirely if he doesn’t come up with a solution fast.

In the morning light, you think these bombshells he’s dropping will hit harder than they do now as the clock displays 2am. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep which keeps your emotions calm, like you’re floating outside of your own body; or maybe it’s his nearness, that greedy internal part of you too pleased to have him here to care about anything or anyone else.

It’s hard to imagine such horrors exist outside the walls of your apartment when the best thing that’s ever happened to you is nestled beside you in bed.

But you see the look in his eyes, that scorching flame of determination he always has when talking about justice and bringing down the cartel, and it’s still there now, flickering in the midnight hours despite the crushing pain of disappointment and defeat. And you know that in the morning light he’ll be out there again, chasing after those unimaginable horrors, because Stechner, the fucking asshole, was right: Javier’s a hero.

And you—

Impossibly, you find yourself loving him even more.

Javier’s the first to fall asleep, nudging his forehead against yours, arm slung over your waist. He looks younger while he dreams, endearing in the way he curls his shoulders inward, making himself smaller in order to better fit in the curve of your own body.

Your nose bumps against his, and it’s strange how the feeling of his exhaled breath against your mouth actually makes something loosen inside of you. A knot come undone. You lay a gentle hand on the side of his cheek, thumb ghosting along the smooth skin beneath his closed eye. It’s a gesture of affection and reassurance.

A gesture that says: Sleep, my love. Tonight you’re safe with me.

You wake up to a line of heat molded against your backside, lips pressing a trail of kisses along your shoulder, neck, ear, cheek. Each spot of contact makes your heart perform funny little flips every time. God, you’re so gone for this man. Your mouth curls into a smile even as your eyes remain closed, and you hear Javier’s quiet hum when he realizes you’re awake.

“I’m sorry tesoro,” he says lowly, not sounding very apologetic at all, “I couldn’t resist.”

You snort, imagining your bedhead and the pillow creases on your face are so utterly attractive. “I don’t mind,” you murmur, tilting your head to give Javier’s lips better access to your neck. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you closer against his body and burying his face in the space, mustache tickling the tender skin.

You really don’t mind. In fact, you’d love it if every morning began this way.

With one hand still beneath your pillow, you move the other to run your fingers through his hair only to wince at the protesting throb from your knuckles. It’s been days now since you broke Stechner's nose, but the pain of the punch still lingers as an ugly bruise. You make a mental note to ice it later.

Javier shifts, lifting his head from your neck despite your disappointed noise, and you know the second he sees your injured hand because his whole body goes tense. In the next beat he’s sitting up, cradling your hand in both of his with the same gentleness one might handle a baby bird that’s fallen out of a tree.

You sit up too, legs folding underneath your rear, eyes flicking nervously between his eerily blank expression and your bruised knuckles. The warmth of the morning has all but evaporated, a cold chill piercing your chest that has your lungs constricting.

“Tesoro,” he says finally, bland and stoic and perhaps the closest you’ve ever been to Agent Peña.

“It’s fine,” you say, too quickly, and your teeth immediately sink into your bottom lip. This is not how you wanted this morning to go.

“Tesoro,” he acts as if your mouth never opened, gaze slowly rising to connect with yours, dark and inscrutable, “what happened while I was gone?”

#javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fic #narcos fanfiction #my fic #My writing #pedrostories #mailroom crush

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lovebillyhargrove · 11 months

Text

A follow up to this *billy's camaro fic*

Next day the boys are busy. Well, it's mostly Steve who's busy. While having breakfast Billy tries insisting on coming with him to the repair shop, because of course he needs to see for himself who they are entrusting his precious baby to, but Harrington tells him it's too risky to be seen in public just yet. It's a small town, you never know who you're going to run into when you turn the corner. It might be Tommy, it might be Max, it might be their high school Lit teacher or Billy's former manager from the Hawkins community pool. It might be literally anyone who Billy is still not quite ready to see. Or, who aren't ready themselves to bump into a supposedly dead teenager looking very much alive and walking around the town like it's the most natural thing. Harrington has already resurrected the car once. To be more exact, he's found the right people to do it, so. He's not new to this. Billy finally listens to the voice of reason and just grabs the medicine kit to treat a couple of wounds that still bother him. Steve calls the tow truck service, and in two hours he's standing near the repair shop watching the camaro being unloaded from the truck.

"Kid, you gotta stop doing whatever you're doing to that car." - Old Joe tells Steve, shaking his head in disbelief, and Harrington just throws up his hands like the situation which led up to this was out of his control. It actually was, so it's nobody's fault.

When Steve gets home, he hears sizzling sounds coming from the kitchen.

"You want a grilled cheese sandwich, Harrington? Found stuff in the fridge, making some."

Wow, that's kinda new. Nobody has cooked anything for Steve in a long, looong, no you don't understand, a really long time

"Yeah, if that's okay?"

"So how did it go?"

"Well, the old man was uh .. confused? I don't think he expected me to be back like that. He was also sad .. ? Cause they fixed it up so well. Looked brand new, just a few weeks ago."

"He'll just have to do it again. If he agreed. Did he?"

"Yeah, yeah, he did. He knows the car, knows what to do. It's not as bad as the last time."

"When are they gonna be done?"

"He said he would call me tonight, or tomorrow morning, tell me about the time they'll need."

"How much is it?"

"Well, he didn't tell me the exact price, because .. he still needs to look into it, so .."

Hargrove's looking at Steve intently

"Listen, I'll give you the money back. But obviously not right now."

"Yeah, I mean .. You don't have to give me back anything."

"I will, Steve."

"If you want to, okay. We can talk about it later, really. We have like .. so many things to figure out first."

Billy's putting a sandwich on a plate and sliding it to Harrington.

"Lunch."

"Oh wow. Thanks."

After lunch Steve goes upstairs and searches through his drawer for Dr. Owens' phone number.

When Owens hears Steve's name, he asks immediately

"Is it acting up again, Steve?"

"What? Oh, no. No, everything is okay here, just .. do you remember Billy? Billy Hargrove?"

"Of course. The guy who died in Starcourt?"

"Yes. Well .. what would you say if I told you that .. hypothetically, I had some information about him being alive?"

Steve's feeling kinda stupid. He's not completely sure they can trust Owens, but they really have no-one to turn to if they need help with documents. Billy Hargrove is officially dead. Even if they are talking about a fake ID, with a different name, Steve doesn't have connections like that. And it's not just an ID. Driving license, high school diploma, where are they supposed to get all the papers from??

Steve's afraid he's not good at this trying-not-to-get-too-involved-with-the-government stuff. Fucking spy shit. Outlaw level.

"I'd say, it makes sense, Steve."

"R .. really? Why?"

"Well, you don't know that but .. when the scene was cleared and all of you were sent home after what happened in Starcourt, Billy's body .. was gone. After the paramedics announced his death, I believe the body was just laying there unsupervised for .. really, not more than only a few minutes, but when my people came to pick it up, it wasn't there, on the Starcourt floor. We searched everywhere, but it just vanished into thin air."

"Oh my god. So .."

"So I am not even too much surprised to hear your news."

"Why didn't you say anything .. to Billy's family? Who did you bury in that grave??"

"Steve, he was dead. How could I have explained this to his family?? It was a closed casket. It was an empty casket."

Owens is silent for a second.

"Now .. The more important question is, if Billy is alive, is there a chance that he's still flayed? Is he dangerous?"

Steve's looking at Billy sitting across from him and he understands that Billy understands too. What they are talking about. Probably he can hear Owens voice.

"Look, Dr. Owens, I uh .. first of all, the key word here is hypothetically. Like .. I don't even know if he's alive or not. But if he was and he didn't present any .. danger to people, would there be any possibility to get his life back to normal somehow? I mean, paperwork?"

"Anything is possible, Steve. But we would have to run some tests first probably."

Billy's tensing

Steve actually doesn't think it was such a great idea to call Owens now. Fuck. "One of the good ones", my ass.

"Dr. Owens, listen. Hypothetically .. -

Hargrove's rolling his eyes at hearing the word for the third time now

- .. speaking, a guy who came back from the dead would be very traumatized, right? What if .. what if there was a way not to run any tests in a lab or something like that?"

"I hear you, Steve. I would still need to see him, even if it was only me. How does that sound?"

Steve's looking at Billy. Hargrove is shrugging his shoulders.

"How can I be sure that it's only going to be you, Dr. Owens?"

"Steve. You've already been through so much. We've been through certain things together as well. You might have noticed I do things differently than my other colleagues. Will and Jane, they are living a usual life in California, right? We let them go. I just need to make sure Billy is not a threat."

"I see."

"Let's make a deal. I'll make all the papers ready. We'll meet and talk, the three of us, in a public place. Or I can visit the place where, hypothetically, -

Steve's covering the receiver with one hand and whispering to Hargrove "Is he mocking me?" -

" .. Billy is staying. Just me. If I see that everything is alright, that'll do. Billy will get his identification, and he's free to go. Believe it or not, we also want this mess to finish, once and for all."

Steve is hesitant, but, really, what choice do they have?

Billy's nodding.

"Okay. Okay, Dr. Owens. When and where should we meet?"

They agree for Steve to call Owens again in a week and decide on the meeting place.

"Good bye, Dr. Owens."

Steve can see that Billy is not very happy with this conversation.

"Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all."

"It's fine, Steve. What other options do I have anyway? I'm a dead man according to the system. I need the fucking papers. I can't get them without the fucking government."

"Yeah, yeah I know. But hey, I still think Owens is a good one."

"We'll see, Harrington. It's fine. Thanks for making that call."

Steve's still doubtful that it was a wise move, but he's honestly trying to help.

"What are you going to do for the rest of the day, Harrington?"

"Well I .. I need to call my mom? Check on her and kinda find out about their plans .. make sure they aren't gonna make a surprise visit here. And then, go grocery shopping. Can't take you with me, but uh .. tell me what you maybe need .. or want?"

"Steve, everything is fine, I don't need anything. I think I'm gonna go nap now. Do you wanna watch a movie later?"

"Sure. Sure, what do you have in mind?"

"What's new?"

They end up spending the afternoon and the evening cooking dinner together and watching "Back to the future" and re-watching "The Terminator" cause, apparently, they both like it, and Steve is enjoying it all so much, because he hasn't spent a day like that in a long, really long time. Also, he sort of has a suspicion Billy is enjoying himself as well, and it's not even awkward between them,

and this is strange, because if Steve recalls high school correctly, it was so strange, like Billy was out to get him and Steve was annoyed by it, and if you asked him about Hargrove he'd just say that he hated that loud Californian fuck, but in reality, and that's something he would've never told anyone, Steve sort of enjoyed his attention. Add in there those couple of times with those couple of dreams when he might've woken up with a situation in his underwear cause he ..

He really shouldn't think about it now.

Before going to bed Billy says to Steve

"Good night, man. Tomorrow we are closing that fucking portal." He's yawning and stretching and Steve still can't believe Hargrove's turned into some kind of a superhero.

***

In the early morning Old Joe calls and catches Steve on the doorstep leaving for work. He says everything is definitely not as bad as it was the previous time. They'll need two weeks, maybe two and a half, tops.

It's good news. Other good news is that Steve's parents are not planning on visiting their son for quite some time, and Steve was relieved to hear that yesterday.

Tonight they are having plans. Big plans. If he's honest with himself, Steve has been feeling so .. alive. Ever since this mess with the camaro started, and then with the hope that resident asshole Billy H. is somewhere out there, Steve's never felt lonely, or without a purpose, or like he was just wasting his life away.

***

They drive to the ruins of Starcourt after dark has set down. Billy is amazing. He throws his hand out and the air is charged with electricity, high voltage, skull and crossed bones, and

he does close the portal.

And even though he collapses on the ground right after it and Steve has to literally drag him to the beamer and inside the house to the couch again, Billy is still fucking gorgeous.

That night Steve dreams of the school basketball court and feels Hargrove's hot sweaty body pressing into his.

***

The next couple of weeks it's quiet. They get some kind of a routine going, and Steve would lie if he said he wasn't in a hurry to get home every evening. Robin's onto him and thinks he's got a girlfriend. Steve just surrounds himself with mystery and tells Robin that he can't go to the movies with her tonight, again, "Sorry Rob, some family business."

Everything is quiet and calm, and nothing really happens except their meeting with Owens. In a diner outside Hawkins, Billy's wearing a beanie and sunglasses on an absolutely sunless day, just like in spy movies, Steve's nervous, but everything goes well. Probably because they look like two teenage dumbasses "Just avoid using the word hypothetically, Steve." - "Shut up, Hargrove." and Owens understands no-one is flayed here anymore. Billy gets the whole shebang of brand new documents, and he's a free bird.

The camaro gets fixed, and when Steve brings her back, they celebrate. They are sitting in the car, shooting the shit, one of old Billy's tapes playing, and Billy smokes his first cigarette after July the 4th. He even gets through one bottle of beer and hugs Harrington before going to the guest room for the night "C'mere, man. Fucking thank you." His words are a bit slurry and eyes teary, and Steve melts into that brief hug although it's just a usual bro hug and he can't read too much into that, otherwise he won't be able to sleep tonight so he just says "See you in the morning, Billy" and watches Hargrove turn his broad back and close the door to the guest room. Billy's been gaining his weight back, and he just keeps looking better every day.

In the morning Steve's coming down to the smell of coffee in the kitchen. Billy's sitting at the table crunching on cereal. They exchange morning pleasantries and then Billy says

"Hey, Steve. I think I have to .. I have to go see my father."

To be continued

#billy's camaro #billy's camaro fic #harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove fic

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