#hey hi hello I’m uh not dead

[fiishes]

Get ‘em space mage…

#mass effect #mass effect 3 #mass effect original trilogy #kaidan alenko #hey hi hello I’m uh not dead #yeah boy I know it’s been years I totally lost the plot for a while there #I’ve drawn something very similar before but okay hear me out #myart #masseffect

[luveline]

losers | remus lupin

“Please.”

“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?” 

you find remus’ number on an abandoned motorbike. things snowball from there. [10k words]

fem!reader, fluff, first date, smut mdni, implied inexperienced!reader, almost rockstar!remus, mentioned that remus takes painkillers, muggle!au, early 2000’s au

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ There’s a motorbike outside of the cafe.

It’s huge. Too heavy for you to move. Technically, you hadn’t found it at all, it was left there in the dead of night a few days ago and hasn’t budged since. It’s illegally parked, a fact that your manager won't stop muttering about while she’s elbow deep in latte foam and coffee cakes. 

“I’m getting the bastard thing towed,” she grumbles that morning. “Let the police deal with it.”

That seems rather harsh to you. It isn’t necessarily in the way, and it looks well loved. Perhaps whoever left it can’t remember where they left it, having stumbled home on inebriated footing after one too many at the pub across the street. You think about how much it must cost to get your stuff back after it’s been towed, and though you aren’t sure of the specifics, you know it can’t be cheap. So, when your manager falls into conversation with a regular and your break begins, you creep outside to do some investigating. 

It’s a hulking thing made of more black than silver. There are stickers across the left side of the body, weathered and peeling, though one is newer than the others and immediately draws your eye. 

A phone number. 

If lost, please call. 

You take your phone out of your pocket, a flip phone with one dangling charm in the shape of a star. You click each faded button slowly. You're scared to talk to someone you don’t know, but relieved to maybe save the day. 

It goes for ages. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you say, dropping your voice into its sweetest tones, though nerves make you too soft, and you worry you’re hard to hear. “Hey, um, sorry to bother you. I work at The Mill, it’s a– a cafe in the city centre… Are you missing a bike, by any chance? A motorbike?”

“Oh, thank you. Yeah, it’s my friend’s. He can be… forgetful.” The voice that speaks is both smooth and gritty, impossibly, like whoever it is that’s talking smoked half a pack of cigarettes before he answered the phone. He clears his throat. “I hope it hasn’t been an imposition for you.”

“Actually, uh, my manager wants to have it towed. Like, now. I can try to fend her off but honestly she’s like, that physics law, um, unstoppable force? Uh,” —you’re stuttering, making it worse, because his voice is surprisingly handsome and you’re an idiot through and through— “yeah, so could you come and get it?”

“Yes! Yeah, absolutely, we’re on our way. Thank you.”

“Sure. Of course.”

You hear something not meant for you, the tail end of, “Sirius, get up. You better call Marl and—”

Phone back in your pocket, you take a quick glance around the street before reaching out to run your finger over the cracked leather of the motorbike seat. You’ve never ridden one before. You’ve never wanted to. The level of fearlessness one needs for it isn’t one you possess. 

You’re the opposite of fearless. 

The sun hides behind a wave of clouds. Your skin chills near immediately, your prim slacks and apron a worthless defence against the cold. It’s an average day here, grey and quiet. Occasionally a couple will pass you, hand in hand as they traverse the worn pavement. You smile at an elderly man and his dog as they shuffle across the street and into the cafe. Your smile fades as you tune into the fierce tones of your manager, demanding to know where you’ve gone. If your absence is what distracts her from calling the police, so be it. 

You’re considering getting your phone back out to play Snake when a passing car slows beside you. You straighten up and out, feeling your spine click in more places than it should as the passenger door opens and an insanely attractive man throws himself out of it. 

“My angel!” he cries, heading straight for you. 

You take a panicked step backward. The man dives for his motorbike. You flinch, mystified by his enthusiasm and his opposite appearance. Short sleeves reveal arms full of dark tattoos, with one side marred by a brutally long scar from his elbow to the back of a ring-laden hand. You tear your eyes from him as a second door closes across the street, and feel all the air rush from your chest as a second man approaches. 

He’s very pretty. It might be redundant to say it to yourself, presented as you are with an undeniable truth, but you think it anyway. Sandy brown hair, pale skin, and in enough layers to make up for his friends lack thereof, the second man ignores any dramatics and meets you head on. 

“Hi,” he says, holding out his hand, “you’re the one who called?”

Closer now, you can see the scars on his face. They stretch over the ridge of his nose and into his eyebrow. A smaller one tugs as he talks against his top lip. 

You take his hand and shake it limply. “Yeah, that was me.”

If he’s concerned with your nervousness he doesn’t show it. His smile doesn’t move. “He wants to say thank you. He will, once he gets over himself.”

“Thank you!” the dark-haired man calls. “She’s my everything. I’ve been sick with worry.”

“Have you?” the man in front of you asks, his voice steady, almost intimidating in its impassiveness. 

“Yes, Moons, I have been… not that you’d know.”

“Some of us have real problems,” Moons snips, though he quickly looks at you like he’s embarrassed. “Sorry. He brings out the worst in me.”

“You must be good friends.” 

You don’t know why you say it. He only smiles. 

“We must be.”

The first man stands up from checking over his motorbike and beams at you. You suspect it’s an expression that works in his favour more often than not. “What can I give you, doll?” 

“No, nothing. Please. I’ll just be glad to hear the end of it.”

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, really." 

Your manager calls your name, clear as day despite the thick pane of glass and brick walls separating you. 

"That's you?" Moons asks. 

"That's me. Sorry." 

"No, don't be. Thanks so much for calling." 

You nod hurriedly, throwing them both a 'nice to meet you, I'm sorry for leaving so fast' kind of smile and head back inside. 

You take a sneaky look back when you're behind the counter again. They’ve turned their backs to you, Moons' friend ruffling his hair roughly. After a minute or two, Moons gets back in his car, and the motorbike pulls away like it was never there to begin with. 

What sort of name is Moons? you ask yourself. It's a question that stays with you for a few days. You find yourself hoping you'll see him again, or that his friend's motorbike will turn up outside of the cafe for a few long days and give you an excuse to call him. His number stays unsaved in your recent calls menu for a while. Eventually, you forget about him altogether; the motorbike, the call, the gentle wave of his hair. 

You're hard-pressed to forget his voice, though. There'd been something familiar about it. 

"Nice highscore." 

You jump hard and wince as the metallic taste of blood hits your taste buds. To make it worse, you slam your phone up into the counter it was hiding under in shock. It makes a fatal crunching sound. 

You shove it into your pocket and look up. Standing there, in all his handsome weariness, is Moons, sans friend. He's wearing nice clothes, clean and clearly ironed. You're immediately aware of your ratty uniform and your unkempt hair. 

"Shit," you say, which is so fucking embarrassing, honestly, you could fall through the floor and stay there, "Sorry. What can I get you?" 

His eyebrows inch up his forehead. "What's the easiest thing to make?" 

That's not a question you get often. "Uh, regular black coffee, or tea, or, the uh– the hot chocolate's not that hard. But you should order whatever you like, of course." 

Moons smiles at you. You're starting to understand the nickname (assuming it is a nickname). He has this odd but enticing presence about him, like that awestruck feeling of looking up at night and seeing all the teeny tiny stars and the moonlight that comes down with them, bright and somewhat daunting. 

"Sure you don't mind?" 

"I'm paid not to mind." 

"Can I get the biggest cup of tea you can make? Milk and two sugars, please." 

"Absolutely." You sidestep to the register and click a bunch of the wrong buttons. You're unprofessionally flustered. "Uh, three sixty five?" 

He passes you a five pound note. Your tip cup is for the more generous type, and he has no trouble dropping his palmful of change into it. He barely looks. You're expecting him to take a seat but he stays standing, one arm pressed to the counter, the other held up. He scratches behind his ear absentmindedly, as though he has nowhere else to be. 

"Are you in a hurry?" you ask, confused. 

He stays quiet for enough time to shit you up. You're tipping milk over your hand and hoping he hasn't seen it when he says, "No rush. I'm here to see you." 

You look over your shoulder at him. You can't help it. "To see me." 

"Yeah." 

You spin back to his tea. The counter is covered in spills and sugar, cup tops and wooden stirrers. You take them all in with wide eyes. Nobody ever comes to see you. Not your friends, not family (unless they want something). Especially not boys you met once for two minutes. 

"Is there something wrong?" you ask. 

You clip the lid onto his big tea and wrap it in napkins so it doesn't burn his hands. 

"Nothing's wrong," he says kindly. "I wanted to apologise. Your boss was upset with you. It was Sirius' fault. We owe you for it." 

"You really don't have to say sorry. She wasn’t that mad. No harm, no foul." 

You put his cup of tea down in front of him and try to smile like girls do in the movies. Soft doe eyes, not too bright, not too awkward. You give up after a second and feel it twist into something regrettable. 

His long silence makes you squirm.

"A thank you, then.”

He offers you an envelope. You take it. 

The paper is crisp and thick. Your fingers are clumsy, and it takes you too many seconds to fold the envelope's lip and pull out the card stock inside. 

You look up in shock. "I can't–" 

He's not there. You look to the door, catching what might've been his hand as he walks out of view. 

He's left you two concert tickets. You don't go to concerts. You might have, when you were younger, and had friends to follow. As it stands he's given you two seated tickets for a show in the Pointer Arena not far from where you work, for a band you've never heard of. The price on each is a solid £20, which is way too much repayment for ringing a number from a sticker. Worse, you're not sure you have somebody who can use the second one. 

You hope he'll come back for clarification alone, and a little to see him, but he doesn't, and soon the date on the ticket matches the date on your calendar and you're standing outside of the venue with no clue how to hold yourself. 

You stand in line for a while. It's a very long line made up of mostly younger women. You listen for the calling of a reseller and spot a group of young girls trying to haggle with them, reluctantly leaving your place in line. 

"Hi," you say quietly to the one furthest from the epicentre. "I'm sorry if this is weird. I have an extra ticket tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like it? I know it's seated, but maybe you could use it to get in and then, uh, not sit? Or just sit." You could writhe around on the ground in shame. You hold out the spare ticket. "If you want it." 

"Are you kidding?" 

"No, seriously." 

She takes the ticket and you walk away before she can try and give it back to you. Whether she uses it or not, it's no longer your problem to deal with. The lady who'd been standing behind you lets you back in line, for which you're extremely grateful, and you shiver your way to the front with nerves churning your stomach. 

You've imagined being turned away twenty times by the time they usher you through the doors. The air is buzzing with excitement, enough of it to ramp up your nerves, and you smile weakly at the people who pass you on the way up to the seating area you've been designated. The Pointer Arena is a smaller venue with much more standing than seating capacity available. The seats are at the sides and back of the second floor, looking down at the pit with a safety barrier in front. 

You slide into your seat and peer down at the crowd as it fills up one ant of a person at a time. You can't distinguish one person from another after a while. It’s a moving sea of dark clothes. 

It takes a long time for the opening act to come on. You're not having much fun. You'd tried to use the computer in the cafe to research the bands playing tonight but the dial up hadn't been working and your manager hates when you take long breaks, so you aren't sure you'll even enjoy yourself. You're not sure why you came here — is it sad, to come here alone? It looks sad, you think, pathetic, but it doesn't feel sad. You're not very good at talking, anyways. It's so difficult. Or maybe you just make it that way. 

This is why you regret coming. Any time spent by yourself is time to think. You hate thinking, but it's all you seem to be able to do. Think and think and think. Your mind runs in the same circles. Things you've done, things you wish you did, things you want to do so badly it makes you feel sick. You can't stand it. 

The crowd begins to rise in volume. Cheers echo against the atrium ceiling, and you push yourself to the edge of your seat to see what's making them all so excited. 

The opening band. They're too far away to see clearly. First on stage is a man with brown skin and a head of black curls, a guitar swinging from his neck, the body barely held as he waves to the masses. Next comes a paler man with hair tied up in a bun who sits down behind the drum kit and doesn't move much after that. A girl practically sprints to centre stage, scooping up a waiting guitar (or bass?) and strumming down the body appreciatively. She has purple hair, bright and choppy, particularly abrasive against the alabaster white of her skin. 

And last on stage… last on stage is Moons. 

You move forward suddenly, smacking your face against the plexiglass barrier and biting your cheek for the second time in a week. Used to your mistreatment, the poorly healed skin wastes no time splitting, and the metallic taste of blood makes you cringe. 

That's Moons. There are two huge screens either side of the stage that magnify him. First his hand on the microphone, a scar coiling up from his wrist to his thumb purple against his skin. Then his face. You wouldn't forget what he looks like so soon, not when you've half obsessed over him for days with could-be's because he'd wanted to see you and you have a bad habit of inventing future's with people you don't know, but even if you did it wouldn't matter. You've never met anyone else with three scars as he has across his face, taking centre stage. 

You hadn't realised the tickets were to see his band. It makes sense, now, why your seat is in such a quiet area, and why the people sitting close by aren't firecracker happy at the sight of them. They must've received their tickets in the same way, gifts or thank yous for small favours. 

Your mouth dries as they begin to play. It's not what you're expecting. Of course, you haven't really had time to expect anything, and yet you're shocked when they start to play a slow song. He doesn't really look like a rockstar, but a heartthrob? You can see it easily. The long lengths of his lashes, and the dark honey of his eyes. His smile, so small but somehow piercing. 

His voice is careful. He doesn't sing anything impressive —there's no belting or high notes— but you still find yourself wringing your hands together, entranced by his confidence. He dances around the melodies and fills up every space he can find between the beat of the drums and the searing guitar riffs that follow. 

They only play five songs. By the time they've finished you're feeling sick to your stomach, and you can't get your heart to calm down. You hadn't known a word of the lyrics, but you'd felt them. 

They're good. 

Like, too good to be openers for long. 

The crowd echoes your sentiment. They clap and scream and wolf whistle. The noise vibrates in the depth of your stomach. The cheering doubles when the headlining band’s techies emerge. The lights go down. Equipment begins to roll out. 

You scrounge through your purse for a lip balm and think about heading downstairs to the concession stands for an overpriced bottle of water to wash away the unfortunate tang of blood. It aches to pay, but if you don't soon you might get nauseous, and that would be a real disaster, throwing up here of all places. 

You hear his voice before you see him. He's laughing, talking to somebody about the set. 

"It was great!" compliments a feminine voice. "I don't know what you were so worried about, Remus, you're really great. And if you weren't, Marl would've saved the day anyways with her gorgeous showmanship." 

"Thanks, baby," says a second voice. Marl. 

"Thanks, Mary," Moons says. 

What had Mary called him? Remus? Odd, not quite as strange as Moons. 

You try not to tense as footsteps approach. 

"Can I sit?" he asks. 

You look up too fast. He's a little damp, the hair closest to his face curled with it, but he smells good as he sits down. He must've washed up. 

"I– I've been calling you Moons in my head," you admit, not sure what to say. 

He's intimidating. You don't imagine he knows it. He sits in the chair without any fanfare, setting his forearm on the rest between your two seats and turning his face to you completely, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, almost like he doesn't want to smile but can't help himself. His eyes are the slightest bit lidded, emphasising the brilliance (and unfairness) of his lashes, so thick and dark you wonder if he's wearing makeup. 

"You can call me whatever you want to, but my name's Remus. I should've told you that before. I was… distracted." 

He isn't being coy, you realise. He easily could be if he wanted to, but he was genuinely lost for words for a second.

"I didn't really tell you mine," you say, hoping to ease his gentle confusion. 

He says your name like it's easy. Like he enjoys the sound of it. "Y/N. Do you like music?" 

Is that a trick question? His eyes trace up to your eyebrows as they pinch together, but he doesn't amend his question. Not a trick, then. 

"I like music,” you say.

"I realise it's brave to ask someone to come and see you on stage. And that I look like a tosser sometimes with the stage lights and makeup." 

"No," you say quickly, "you don't. You looked just fine. You looked good. I bet it's hard getting on stage like that, and in front of this many people. And singing. You have a really nice voice." 

His eyes soften. "Thank you. Do you wanna go get a drink with me? There's a bar. It's quiet." 

Your elbow brushes against his long sleeve. "Yeah." You're not breathless enough to embarrass yourself, but it's a close call. 

Remus leads you up and out of the seats. The venue is large in that it has just as many hallways and back rooms as it has places to watch the show. Remus’ warm hand catches your elbow, a friendly touch that guides you around the barrier and through a dimly lit hallway that takes you to the bar. 

The bar overlooks the stage, but the sound of the band and the crowd is dampened severely, making for a sorely needed respite. VIP's mill around the room on plush leather sofas and cushy bar stools sipping from sweating glass bottles. Remus' hand moves up to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as a familiar face waves you over. 

"Hey, it's you!" 

You smile at Remus' motorbike friend. You're a hundred percent sure his name is Sirius, but you won't say it aloud in case you're wrong. Beside him sits the other man you'd seen on stage with them, the guitarist with brown skin and a head full of thick hair. You look between the three of them in secret shock, wondering if handsome attracts handsome or if it's just dumb luck that they ended up together. 

"James, this is the babe that found Stacia," Sirius says.

James wrinkles his nose. "Hi," he says, in a voice that sounds deeply apologetic, years of it like the rings of a tree. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Um, and you?" 

"I'm good! Thanks, I'm good, it's nice of you to come see us. Did you like the show?" 

"Yeah, I did. I had no idea you guys were musicians." 

He splits his attention between you and his jacket. He pulls a glasses case out of his pocket, clicks it open, and straightens out a pair of wire frames. 

"Couldn't tell from our baby boy's general demeanour?" he asks. "Hey, that's better, I can see you now." 

"Sirius is the youngest," Remus says. 

"And the handsomest." 

"No, Marl's clearly the handsome one," James says lightly. 

Sirius takes the rebuttal in good jest and brandishes his drink toward you like a toast. "Want a beer?" 

"I'm getting her one," Remus says, "come on, give me a minute here." 

Everybody laughs. You laugh too, turning your face into your shoulder to smother the sound. 

"Well, come and sit with us, make yourself comfortable," James says, moving his jacket off of the chair in front of you.

Remus makes a small, apprehensive sound. "Drinks first." He looks to you for confirmation. "Yeah. We'll be back." 

You follow him to the bar. Your shoes, a pair of dirty converse you wish you'd swapped for heels or something sophisticated, squeal against the hardwood floor. How were you supposed to know you'd see him again tonight? In what world does stuff like this happen to scruffy waitresses? You're starting to think he might be somebody. 

Not that it matters if he is or isn't. 

But if he is… This is embarrassing, right? Not knowing who he is. 

There must be a couple thousand people here tonight. Then again, his band were the opening act, so it doesn't necessarily mean they're all famous or anything. 

"Hey," Remus says softly, stopping your thoughts cold. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. Sorry. I've never been in here before, anywhere that's like it,” you say. 

"Venues are all different but the bars don't change," he says. "What do you like?" 

"I'm not a big drinker." 

"That's okay. I just wanted an excuse to be alone with you." He doesn't even give you time to recover. "Truth is, I wanted to ask you out. But between shows I couldn't find time, and next week I'm in San Marino." 

What you mean to say is, you wanted to ask me out? But instead, you choke, "You're going to Italy?" 

Remus pushes a seat out for you, helping you up with a solid hand, and, while your fingers are still warm from his touch, he says, "San Marino isn't Italy. I didn't know that 'til a few months ago. But pretty much." 

"What's in San Marino?" 

"A wedding." He climbs into the seat next to you, smiling.

The tan colour of his long-sleeves contrasts his pale hands. Your eyes flash to his ring finger. Not his wedding. 

Remus isn’t easy to talk to. It's not wholly his fault. He doesn't force conversation, leaving you awkwardly searching for something to say. You're not the best conversationalist either. He clearly doesn't mind it. 

You're in the midst of a clumsy retelling of a shitty customer service moment when he tips his head to the left just a touch. 

"Maybe we can go on an actual date when I'm home,” he says.

He says it like he's talking about the weather. You'd be worried he was messing with you, but then he smiles again, flicking his index finger against your wrist mildly. "You don't have to answer me now. Finish telling your story."

"It was pretty much finished. And– and I'd like to. Go on a real date. I've never been out of the country, so you'll have to forgive me if I want to know everything about San Marino." 

He looks at your lips. Says, "Good," and doesn't give any indication that he's noticed how nervous you are. That is, until he covers your trembling hand with his and presses it flat to the bar. 

"You're really pretty," he murmurs. He takes a moment, and he smiles. "Come with me? If I don't give Sirius some attention soon he'll start showing off."

— 

James is starting to wonder if he should invite you to San Marino. He's not that stupid; it would be a huge pain if you were standing in the middle of all his wedding photos and you and Remus don't work out. But, while he's certainly and majorly jumping the gun, he has a suspicion he’ll be seeing you again. 

James has never seen Remus like this before. 

His friend is usually quiet, quipping every now and then perhaps at Sirius' insufferable antagonism but otherwise brooding. He hasn't seen him smile this much, ever. 

James is under no illusions — he knows Remus loves him very much. He knows Remus is happy, and not always healthy but managing. He knows Remus is pleased with their lives and ecstatic to have their music take off. But he also knows Remus won't let himself have a good thing, not really. Maybe that's why he's asked you out now, when in a week they'll be in San Marino, and a week after that they'll be in Cardiff to officially start the new tour. 

He knows Remus, sweetheart, kind hearted, miraculous Remus, tends to let people down. He's a stickler for asking people out and cancelling the day before. It's how it always goes. James will ask how the date went and Remus will shake his head and say, "it didn’t work out." 

He knows Remus doesn't mean to hurt anybody. He just… can't get close. 

But he's trying, with you. A glass of cordial in one hand, the other behind your chair, Remus tells you one of his more embarrassing stories about how he'd taken a bad fall and ended up in A&E with half of an eyebrow. He doesn't mention the painkillers that made him woozy. 

You've relaxed considerably since sitting down. James would be happy to report that you're having a good time. You have your own drink in hand, and your eyes are bright, with a receding space between your face and Remus' as the story goes on. It's like watching two magnets fight to hold themselves apart.

Matter of time, James thinks to himself smugly. 

—

Honesty is important. You admit to yourself that you and Remus aren't exactly a perfect match. Both quiet, both not quite social butterflies, your conversations had occasionally been stilted and slow, but you've only met twice. Things don't have to be perfect, and more than that — there's a spark there. A twinge of a possibility. He'd liked what little he knew about you enough to ask to see you again, and you'd like what little you knew about him in turn to say yes. 

It doesn't have to be perfect, you insist to yourself, a bundle of nerves. Nothing does. 

He looks pretty perfect. Base of his palm pressed to the brick wall of the cafe, hand angled down as his fingers grasp the neck of a bouquet whose flowers have been shedding petals onto the damp pavement below. He holds his other hand against his chest, clicking buttons on his phone. 

You approach from the left and watch him play a game of Snake. 

"You play Snake?" you ask.

"Doesn't everybody?" he asks back, his smile softening what might otherwise feel like a chastisement. He doesn't look up from his phone.

"Woah, how long have you been out here?" you ask, eyeing his weirdly long snake.

Remus guides the snake into a wall on purpose. It dies, his high score flashes across the screen, and he aims an apologetic look your way. "Sorry, that was rude." He doesn't try to hide that he's looking over your face. "Thanks for coming." 

He leans in and kisses your cheek. Delighted warmth curls in your stomach, worse when he passes you the bouquet of flowers. They've mostly survived his poor treatment, and there's a lot of them. He's left the price tag on and you're not sure if he's noticed. You pretend not to see it. 

"Thank you…” You look away from the flowers, all whites and reds and baby’s breath, to ogle him as subtly as you can manage. “Wow, you've caught the sun. Was it lovely in San Marino?" 

"I'll tell you all about it over dinner,” he says. “I thought we'd walk, it's not far." He holds out his hand. You wipe your palm against your side before you take it, worried you'll have clammy hands. He must guess, because he says, "Don't be nervous." 

"I am," you say hopelessly. "I've never been on a date before." 

"This is your first date?" 

You feel a hot flush coming on. "I– yeah. That's embarrassing, I shouldn't have told you that." 

"No, it's a good thing. Now I know it has to be extra special." 

"It doesn't," you say. 

"I was hoping it would be." He pulls you down the pavement and further into the city centre toward the main high street. "San Marino. It was beautiful, and I took a couple of photos but I didn't have room on my phone. Well, I could've deleted Snake–" 

"Why would you?" you joke, grinning. 

He laughs, and squeezes your hand slightly. "Exactly. I have priorities. It's a long flight, and looking over the photos can only take up so much time. No, but it really was… it was beautiful. I'd never given much thought to a destination wedding. They make sense, right? It's the best day of your life, why would you have it here?" 

He tilts his chin toward the grey sky. You look up with him, feeling the cold wind kiss the sides of your face and pull through your hair. 

"Come on, Remus, it's not that bad. If it's sun you're after, you could just wait for British summer time. You know, the whole three days of it." 

He laughs — you've made him laugh twice already. This is going okay. Laughing while looking at one another, a bouquet in one hand and his hand in the other, you feel that curl of delight begin to bloom. It fills your insides up, has you smiling until your eyelashes brush in the corners. 

"It was James' wedding. Do you remember which one that was?" 

He asks so kindly. You don't doubt for a second that he wouldn't care if you forgot. It's refreshing, even if it's something you'd expect. 

"I remember. I didn't realise he was getting married." 

"Don't ever say that in front of him, he'll put himself on the cross." He swings your hand as you turn a corner. The Italian restaurant you'd agreed on winks from a distance. 

"He's devoted," you guess. 

"He's insane. He was worse when we were younger. His girlfriend– his wife," he amends, "Lily, she's really something else. Warm and funny, but she's been keeping him on his toes for years. She has family in San Marino, hence the wedding." 

You listen to him talk eagerly. His voice is as handsome as his face, and the more he says the less stilted he becomes. There had been a strained quality to it before (strained, or restrained? something he wasn't saying) that's all but disappeared. 

"It was like a movie. White linen, sand, crying." 

"Did you cry?" you ask, expecting a puffed up chest. 

"So much. Too much, maybe. I was half of the best man." 

"Half?" 

"We had to share, me and Sirius. They've always been…" Remus slows his steps. "Am I being boring? I'm talking too much about me." 

"We have time. I want to hear it. I'd like to hear it," you say. 

James and Sirius are brothers. Remus sees your surprised look and doesn't condemn you for it. Sirius is unofficially adopted. The Potter's fostered him from ages thirteen until he aged out, and though they tried to adopt him, Sirius was reluctant. Remus doesn't get into the reasons beyond that, and you don't ask. You suspect he's only telling you about it to drive home how much the Potter's love Sirius. How much James does. 

Remus had been Sirius' friend from their very first year of comprehensive school. Sirius moved in with the Potter's, and, adoring as they were, they let him have friends over whenever he liked. James, Sirius, and Remus spent the next decade together like that, hiding in Sirius' room. Best friends, entirely inseparable, and all fiercely protective of each other. 

"They've always been like brothers." 

"But not…" 

He understands what you're worried to say. "I think it would've been weird… I had a candle burning for James. For a long time." 

Your jaw drops a little. "And you just had to watch him have the most romantic wedding ever," you whisper sympathetically. You're joking: it's clear the candle isn't burning now. 

"Told you I cried," he says. "No, but you've seen him. He's a supermodel. It's awful." 

"Remus, I think you might be underestimating how handsome you are," you say. You bite your lip and look at his chin rather than his eyes. 

He's generous. He gives your wrist a tug and chuckles warmly. "I'm glad you think so. Tonight might have been awkward, otherwise." 

You duck together inside of the restaurant, hands falling apart as Remus gives his last name for the reservation. Lupin. Your face has a mind of its own. 

"Charming, isn't it?" 

"It is," you say emphatically, denying his sarcasm. "I've never heard anything like that. Lupine, like a fox?" 

"Wolf."

A server shows you to your table and hands you two leather covered menus. Leather, not plastic, a sign that tonight is going to be classy. You've dressed for the occasion in a smart blouse and slacks, too terrified of wearing a dress. Remus seems to have done the same as you, reaching for smart but dodging the mark in a button down and a casual jacket. When he takes off his coat, he looks perfect. He fits right in. 

"Could we get a glass?" he asks the server. "For the flowers? If it's not too much trouble." 

"No trouble at all." 

You run your hand across the silken tablecloth and the space between you both feels somehow smaller than when you'd been holding hands. Outside, you could let your gaze drift to the pavement, the fenced in trees, the couples that passed you by. Here, you're forced to watch one another. 

It's not so bad. It's agonising. 

"This is weird," you say. You flinch when you hear yourself. "Sorry, not that you're weird! I'm weird. I've never ever done this." 

"No, I know," he says, almost murmuring, "it's okay." 

"I just blurted out what I was thinking–" 

"I know." He sits back in his chair. His head tilts down, his eyelashes kissing the skin above his brows as he fixes you with a look. It has the intended effect, tension easing from your rigid spine and tight shoulders. "This is weird. But it's still early. It could get weirder." 

You like that he says it as if it's a good thing. 

You order the same thing he does, and you don't turn down his offer to get a bottle of wine, though it feels too grown up. You keep forgetting you're an adult, and that your life isn't on hold. Things can happen to you at any time. 

"I want to address the elephant in the room," he says. 

Not promising. "Okay." 

"Are we having dessert?" Remus leans forward on both forearms. Hair falls in his eyes. He's dressed nicely and he's handsome but there's something homespun about him, something golden. You can't help looking at him and thinking impossibly forward thoughts, cheesy waffle from the films. He's familiar. "Nobody ever wants to get dessert with me. It's actually a real issue for me." 

"I'll get dessert with you." A smoother you with more confidence, who wore the dress and asked him to go to the Thai restaurant instead, would've said something more suave. We're having whatever you want, handsome.

Remus flips the menu to the very last page and reads the desserts aloud. For himself, it seems, half-muttered and apprehensive. "Chocolate cake from places like this will either be the nicest thing we've ever eaten or burnt in the microwave. And it's childish that I want chocolate cake. I should be spoon feeding you creme brulee. Or whipped cream and strawberries." 

He tips his head back and rubs his eyes. It's a charade of feigned self loathing that makes you laugh. 

"I'm a child," he laments, thumb and index finger pressed into his eyes. He checks to see if you're watching before doubling down. 

"I like cake," you say, and you'd lie if you thought it was what he wanted to hear. Handsome, kind, and funny. Not to mention talented. He needs smart for the sweep. 

Remus falls out of his dramatics. You mourn the loss, beggy a good look on him, but forget all about it when he slides his chair around the table to share the menu with you, your heads inclined as you read it together again. He smells woody. You hope he likes the jasmine of your perfume. 

"It all sounds really nice," you confide, afraid to disturb the comfortable hush. "I haven't had gelato since I was a kid. Oh, did they have real gelato in San Marino?"

“They had a lot of stuff in San Marino… I want to hear about you.”

“What do you want to hear?”

The questions start and don’t stop. Where did you grow up? That’s the easy part. What did you study in school? Were you in sports? The art club? And what do you do now, when you aren’t working in the cafe? The more he asks, the easier it is to answer. He doesn’t slow when the waiter brings a glass for your bouquet, simply stands and places them inside with exceedingly gentle hands, smiling at you from between the stems. You eat slowly when the food arrives — you're busy talking. 

It feels fucking amazing. To have someone want to know anything about you. And unless he’s an actor of the highest regard, he’s obviously enjoying your conversations, though they wilt and wane and wind around one another. You lose track of time and thread as the night goes on, distracted by the near unnoticeable asymmetry of his smile, and the way he laughs when you laugh, like an echo. 

You get cake like he wanted. Triple fudge cake with buttercream thick but melting from the heat. It looks straight from the pages of a magazine, glossy and dusted with sugar powder, but he doesn’t seem to like it. He takes a couple of bites and leaves it alone. You don’t want to look greedy, so you do the same. 

The date is suddenly over. 

“Could I walk you home?” he asks, when you’ve both put your coats back on, and the damp roots of your flowers are leaving an imprint on your chest. 

You nod rather than answer. 

Things are good, not perfect. That’s what you keep thinking. There’s something he isn’t saying. Or, horrifyingly, something he doesn’t like about you. Still, the sky is velvet black and the air is crisp. Stars like needlepoints dot the air. Street lights work to hide them, casting a warm yellow glow over the pavements and your meandering shoes. 

A brisk wind whips past you. You shiver and press your lips together hard, hands quick to rigidity. Remus looks at you sideways, and breaks the quiet. “Are you cold?”

“A little.” No point in lying when he can see you trembling. 

“Do you want my coat?”

“No, no, it’s alright–“ You cut off as he steps in front of you, his hand vying for yours. 

He tucks the flowers under his arm and sandwiches your fingers between his. He has short fingernails, and another scar down one pinky finger. How’d you get that one? you want to ask. How’d you get any of them?

His breath clouds the air. “I should’ve thought about the cold.”

“This is better,” you say. Than a warm taxi home. His thumbs brushing down the backs of your hands. 

You walk to your flat building and hesitate at the foyer door. The potential for a kiss goodnight has flayed your thoughts. The image of his hands climbing your arms, holding you still, plays like a flickering film. You have no idea if he’s going to do it. 

“How will you get home?” you ask quietly. 

“I parked by the cafe, it isn’t far.”

“Oh…” The lights from your building paint him the faintest shade of pink. Your breath fogs out in front of you, as does his, and the warmth of walking will soon fade. “I–“

“Here,” he says, handing you the flowers again. 

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Fits the recipient.”

It takes a second for you to get it. Oh, you think. You can hardly feel the cold now. Your heart hurts, and you’re begging him to want to take a step toward you. The silence goes for too long. 

“I– I’d love to see you again,” you say. Love comes out funny. Maybe because you can feel his rejection coming. 

“I won’t be here next week. Not for a long time. We’re touring properly, now.” He scratches the side of his face.

“Right. Right, of course you are. Um, good luck with that. And thank you for tonight, for dinner.” You wave your flowers weakly. 

He looks at you. He takes a half step toward you. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. 

“You really are pretty,” he says finally. “Goodnight.”

He smiles quick and turns quicker. You watch him walk a few steps but ultimately can’t face it, pushing into the foyer of your building with a hardset frown. Your hands shake, minute abstractions of the sharp rejection panging in your chest. Your ears roar and then go quiet. What did I do wrong? you think, shocked and upset and trying to rationalise. He doesn’t have to kiss you. He asked you out on a maybe, and now whatever question he had is answered. 

The door creaks open. You spin on your heel, too wrapped up to think about hiding your expression. Remus stands in the doorway of the porch, his arm pressed to the glass panel, the other held out to you. 

"Come here," he says quietly. It isn't a question, but he's asking. 

You step into his reach, letting him pull you by the waist against his chest. He leans down until his nose glances against ýours, and he starts to say something. You push your chin up in your eagerness and he doesn't try again. He kisses you, once, contrite, and he pulls back and his hand clasps your arm tight as he ducks in for another. His lips are fast to lose the cold of the weather, but his tongue is a hot shock at the seam of your own. 

You go weak in his arms. The flowers between you crunch and smother themselves. You can’t think about it. Your hands are numb. He takes over every one of your senses until you’re more kiss than thought, reciprocating his slow, deep searching. You run out of breath. 

He eases you backward, cupping the side of your head in his big palm. 

“I want to see you again,” he says hoarsely. “But I– I don’t know when I’ll be back.” His hand adjusts against your cheek, like he’s worried you’re slipping out of his hold. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I can wait,” you say. 

“I couldn’t ask you to.”

You rub your buzzing lips together, each heaven of your chest marked by the crinkling sound of cellophane. 

“Do you want to come upstairs?” you ask.

He strokes the edge of your mouth with his thumb. “Are you sure?”

You kiss him. You don’t know if this will work, any of it, the broad stroke or this one night, but you want him. 

—

Remus doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows how to fuck somebody, that isn’t the problem. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with you. The same thing that made him walk away had pulled him right back in, had him skipping steps on the staircase up to your flat, drinking in the back of your head and roll of your shoulders as you’d made apologies for the mess inside.

He doesn’t feel like himself when he’s with you. He thinks of it like this — what he is, his pain, his wants, that’s all set in stone. Any change is an erosion, and little by little over the years he’s managed to whittle himself down into the smallest, cleanest version of himself. Then suddenly the band’s making money, people are listening to his voice on the radio in countries all over the world, and he can’t hide anymore. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, after all. What else inspires a performer into the spotlight? The music, he thinks desperately, knowing it’s half a lie. 

Isn’t it why he’d asked you to the show? Come and watch me sing. See me at my most impressive. My most curated. 

And now he’s following you into your bedroom after one date, about to strip it all away. 

“You didn’t have too much wine, did you?” he asks. You hadn’t really finished your first glass, but it won’t hurt to make sure. 

You peel your jacket off and drop it over the back of a wide armchair. “I don’t think so. Did you?”

“No.” His head has never been this clear. 

He thinks about what you said. This is your first date, and he’s not clueless enough to assume that never going on a date means never having sex, but he wants to be careful with you anyway. He wants this to last beyond a dinner date. 

Which means he has to get out of his head. 

Beyond all of his own mess, he really does think you're pretty. More than pretty. You’re beautiful, and your voice… 

He wants to see what other sounds you make. 

Remus gets his hands on you. Soft touches, his hands coasting from your elbows to your warming hands. He squeezes your fingers, leaning in for a quick kiss. He rests his nose against the skin beneath your eye. “Tell me if it’s too much?” he asks, a murmur of hot air. 

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go slowly.”

“Okay.” Your voice is barely audible. 

He pulls away to make sure you’re alright, and is surprised to see a glassy sheen in your eyes. He holds your face in both hands and works your lips open against his, guiding you backwards into the plush of your poorly made bed. He’s all sweet touches and eager kisses, cautious not to hurt you, or let too much of his weight press against your soft torso. His kisses follow to the corner of your mouth, the tip of his nose tender against your cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he says. He isn’t complaining, but he wants to hear your voice. 

“I’m a bit preoccupied.”

He laughs into your skin, kissing down to your jaw. “You’re right,” he says, revelling in the goosebumps that rise under his hands. 

Your shaking inhales cleave a pit in his stomach. He mouths at the side of your neck, half-kisses, tiny warning nips before he thumbs open the first button of your shirt. He meanders, dropping a path crescent moon kisses into your front until the fabric of your bra gets in the way. The soft hill of your breast staggers to a halt beneath him. He can tell that you’re holding deliberately still. 

Kisses. You need more kisses, an absolution from any lingering nervousness. Your hands thread into his hair gently, your fingers raking wavy strands behind his ears as you give in. You melt into your sheets, your legs parting from the pressure of his hips. 

Your hands fall from his hair to needle between your two bodies and undo the rest of your buttons. The fabric falls aside, your chest and tummy his to catalogue. He drops his hand against your stomach, smoothing a line down to your slacks. His lips ache against yours as he asks, “Can I?”

“Please.”

“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?” 

He smiles at your daunted expression. “Can I take these off?” he asks you, his fingertip running under the edge of your underwear. “Please?” he teases.

Your skin is a furnace, hot hot hot everywhere he touches as you nod your permission and Remus undresses you, one piece of clothing at a time. Your trousers, your shirt. Your bra, your underwear. His fingers slip in his ardency as he tears out of his own button down. 

Your thumb traces a scar. 

He looks up from your chest, startled, but you aren’t giving him anything he doesn’t want. There’s no pity in your gaze, no curiosity, no sadness. Just lust, your trembling hands pulling his slacks down the lengths of his thighs. 

He pulls the condom from his wallet in his pocket and lets it fall to the floor. 

Remus hooks his hands under your arms and urges you back against the headboard, a pillow behind your head, your thighs tipping open as his hand runs down between them. He grabs at them greedily, handfuls of fat that have his mouth dry as a bone. 

“Has anyone ever done this to you before?” he asks. He needs to know.

You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head. 

Fuck. “Hey, look at me,” he says, waiting for your eyes to meet before continuing. “I just want to make you feel good. If I don’t, you let me know.”

He waits for you to answer aloud. “I will,” you say, your hand behind his back and urging him forward. “Please.”

“What did I say?” he jokes gently, letting his weight bear down on you again. 

He closes his eyes, his lips in what feels like a new home at the juncture of your neck. His hands skirt dangerously close to your heat. 

He’s gentle. He rubs a sweeping line against your cunt with the front of his fingers, heart hammering fast as a mouse’s when he finds the little button of your clit. You shiver and shudder and squirm as he toys with you, your fingers steadfast against the plane of his back while he opens you up. His lips part in tandem, not nearly as kind as his hands. His teeth scratch against your throat. 

Your soft moans move through him as he hickeys over your pulse, chasing each capering thud of blood. He winds you up. You’re snug around his fingers, fluttering, and he knows he’s probed something sweet when your breath catches and you whine. 

“Was that alright?” he asks. 

You nod, heavy headed, and lick your lips as he tears open the condom and eases it onto his cock, one measured roll at a time. 

“Can you– I want you to–” You turn your face from him, the line of your jaw kissed by the lamplight outside, and the rest hidden. 

He drags you down to lay flat on your back and holds himself over you, nudging his nose against yours until you lift your head. Face to face, he gives himself time to adore the shape and colour of your eyes, the side of his hand brushing along your cheek. “Do you think you’re ready?” he asks sincerely. The slickness between your legs is obvious, but he doesn’t want to blindside you. “It will feel…”

You nod, saving him the explanation. It will feel weird. Good, but foreign. “Will you kiss me again?” you ask feebly.

He can’t stop himself. He kisses your lips sore, his hand behind the crook of your knee pushing your leg up toward your stomach as he slides into the space he’s made there. He breaks the kiss to listen to your breathing as he pushes forward.

Remus hadn’t been lying — he wants it to feel good. He takes it slow, his thrusting almost languid as you get to grips with the feeling. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, struggling to smother the moan that escapes him as he feels you clench around him. You gasp, your arms tightening around his waist, destroying any semblance of space between your sweat-damp bodies as you hold him tight. He murmurs praises in your ear, his forearms tucked beneath your shoulder blades, hands gripping your shoulders a touch too hard. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to somebody, can’t remember ever feeling so maddeningly lost, like he’s one good push from hurtling over the edge. 

He kisses your cheek, calling you all the things he’d been too scared to say before. “Lovely girl,” he pants, “how’s that feel?” And, when you answer, “Yeah, you’re taking it so well, dove. Think you can take a little more?”

All that nervousness and desperation shrinks down to dust, and the smiling girl he’d been with at dinner comes to the forefront. There’s no mistaking it. You giggle something awful and turn your face into his, kissing him between sounds, dizzying him with the tender scratch of your nails down his back as he starts to move. 

“There she is,” he says lightly, almost smirking. “Feel good?”

“Feels– oh,” —you shiver violently, filled all the way up— “feels good.” 

Remus let’s his forehead fall to your chin, his eyes closed in pleasure, his cock to the hilt. Every move he makes evokes a near sinful sound from you, mewling, silvery whimpers and pleased little laughs when he angles his hips right. He’s a mess, desperate to cum from the second you touched him and running on stolen time as he presses you deep into your mattress. One of your hands flies backward into the pillows and scrunches up into a ball, the look on your face too tempting to ignore. 

The first time you fuck someone — it’s never timed right. Remus knows he hasn’t quite figured you out, but he knows enough to get you where he wants you. He slides his hand between your bodies and your soft cunt to draw circles into your clit, entranced by your twitching lashes as the pleasure builds. You chase him with your hips, and he grabs your hand at the last second to stop you from covering your mouth, holding it above your head as you come apart. 

He cooes at you. The sound you make — the breathless little cry that leaves you, your hips jutting up to meet him. He’s at your mercy, just like he said. 

Remus fucks into the extra tightness, drawing your climax out for as long as he can. You’re smiling as you shove his arm away, a playful chastisement that wanes when you see the look on his face. “Are you close?” you ask, brushing a curled strand of hair from his eyes. 

Close? Remus is fucked. 

“You can go faster,” you say, “rougher, whatever you want.”

“Shit,” he hisses, leaning back. 

His rutting hips slap the backs of your thighs. He squeezes your waist, his eyes fixed on your cunt as it pulls him in. One last wavering, “Oh, fuck,” from you is all it takes for Remus to lose it. White hot pleasure tightens his whole body, his abdomen aflame. You scramble to gather him back into your arms. You kiss him, swallowing his resulting string of moans. 

He has to catch his breath afterward. You comb the hair back from his face, your eyes droopy with pleasure.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice stringy.

“Of course not.” You’re quickly losing your confidence. Remus hates it, but he understands. This vulnerability can only stretch so far. 

“Let me clean you up,” he says.

“You look like you’re gonna fall over if you stand.”

He strokes your face with the back of his ring finger, his nail ghosting along the highest point of your cheek. “Funny,” he says dryly. 

He gets confused in your bathroom, and you won’t let him towel you off, but when he lies down beside you with his boxers back in place you don’t push him away. You drop your face into his chest and curl up. 

He drags the quilt over your naked back. 

Was that okay? he wants to ask. “Sore?” he worries instead. 

“Don’t think so.”

He chews his cheek. “You’re alright?”

You stir, looking up at him through your lashes. He thinks you’re the kind of pretty people might not always see. You’re clearly beautiful, but there’s something else to it. The way you move, maybe. The way your eyes smile before your lips can catch up. 

“I’m fine. I’m good… Can I…”

He hums. “What?”

“Could I kiss you again?” 

You speak so quietly, he hears the vibration in your throat more than the sound of your voice. It’s endearingly timid. He feels his attraction for you flare violently. 

He wants to ask you to come with him to Cardiff. He knows he can’t. It’s yards too soon, but for a second he entertains the thought. 

“Wait for me to come home,” he says. He’s still asking for more than he should. “I want to see you again. You can kiss me as much as you want, if you say you’ll wait.”

You nod immediately. Not a flicker of reluctance to be seen. 

You lift your chin and kiss him. He tries to make it the kind of kiss worth waiting for.  

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging cos it helps more than you might think <3

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[eddiesxangel]

I Don’t Think We Are In 1986 Anymore? Part 2

Big thanks to @allthingsjoeq @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing for the prompts. The Stranger Prompts - directly from the Twilight Zone.

Sort of proof read, if you see mistakes no you didn’t… Sharing is caring. Reblog and comment 💙

You have to read part 1 for this to make any sense.

Cw: time travel, modern/Henderson reader, the aftermath of the upside down/ finding out who your father is and the reunion they never thought possible. Angst, fluff, smut 18+ content, fingering (f), oral (m) p in v sex, cream pie, MDNI

wc: 10k. oops

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…”

"What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!"

You watch and listen as your father has a mental breakdown in your open-concept kitchen. You just got off the phone with your uncle Steve, telling him to get to your place ASAP.

Your dad was stunned… and Eddie was stunned… What were the odds that Eddie would stumble into the house belonging to Dustin Henderson’s daughter?

Eddie could barely discern any similarities. You resembled the woman who came in after Dustin, and Eddie could only presume it was your mother. If he squinted, your eye shape was somewhat reminiscent of Dustin's, but even that was a stretch.

“How?! When?! Holy shit, man, you’re-you’re dead! You died in the upside down!” Your father was dumbstruck, as was your mother, because Eddie died in 1986. Everyone mourned and moved on with life. 

“The upside down?” You looked to your mom to see if she knew what the two men were discussing. It seemed that she was also withholding something from you. 

“I don’t know, man! That was only a few hours ago for me!” Eddie yelled.

“Holy shit,” your dad whispered.

“Wait. You think I’m dead? Like you guys just left me there? In that place?! With those demo-bats?” Eddie’s eyes were wide and, if you were being honest, he looked a little crazy.

“Well… I mean… so much shit was still happening!” 

Your dad was interrupted by a frivolous knocking on the door. 

You rush over to the door. Standing on the other side are your Uncle Steve and Aunt Robin, aka the woman from whom you got your nickname. 

You grab both of them before they can even say hello and drag them by their shirt sleeves. 

“Woah, Birdie, what’s going on!” 

You didn’t need to speak because you were in the kitchen before they could continue. 

You hear your aunt audibly gasp, and your uncle’s mouth hangs agape, stunned. 

There he was, a dead man walking in your kitchen, clear as day. 

“What the fuck”-“That’s not?”

“Uh, hey,” Eddie waves. 

“Holly shit,” they both say in unison. 

Before Eddie knew what was happening, Robin charged at him and wrapped him in a bear hug. 

This was weird for Eddie. He hardly knew the woman—not really. He had only spoken to her for the first time a week ago… well, a week and thirty-eight years ago. 

“Ouch!” -“Sorry!”

“What the actual fuck is going on” she pulled back, still gripping his shoulders. 

“Hey, uh, Robin.”

Her long fingers trailed up his shoulders to grab him by the face, squishing his cheeks together, not believing the sight before her. 

Despite the passing years, her youthful features still shone through. Her face was adorned with a sprinkle of freckles, her hair, still a beautiful shade of dirty blonde with some strands of silver, was now cut a little shorter, but it looked just as radiant as ever. She was unmistakably Robin, just a more mature and refined version of herself.

“Ohhhh-okay,” Eddie forced her hands off his cheeks. 

“Okay, what is going on here?” Steve spoke.

Eddie's eyes lingered on his acquaintance, taking in the lines etched into his face like a map of time. Despite the signs of age, he still looked strikingly handsome, with broad shoulders and a sturdy frame that spoke of years of hard work. His hair, once a wild mop, was now tamed into a close-cropped salt-and-pepper buzz cut. Eddie couldn't help but admire how his friend had aged with dignity and grace, and he felt a twinge of envy at his own mortality.

“One minute, we're in the upside-down fighting off those… those creatures,” Eddie looks to your dad, “and the next…” Eddie waved his hands above his head before flinching from the pain of the bat bites. “I was here!” 

“I don’t understand,” Robin said. 

“You think I do?!” He looked at her. 

“Woah, guys, let’s just calm down,” Steve tried to defuse the room. 

“Calm down? I just learned everyone left me for dead.” Eddie’s voice hitched. 

God, you had a lot of questions. 

“Come on, man, we couldn’t go back without another one of us dying. You stopped breathing in my arms! I swore you had died. I-I-I,” Dustin stammered.

You had never seen your father so distraught. 

“Fuck, come here, man” Eddie reached out to hug his friend. 

It had been mere hours to Eddie, but for his friends, it had been years of mourning and grieving, the acceptance that Eddie Munson was gone from the world. 

“What are you guys talking about?” You ask, breaking the moment. 

“Not now, honey,” your dad spoke, wiping a stray tear. 

“Yes, now!” You screamed. “What are you all talking about? Leaving him for dead? Fighting off creatures? Bats? I saw his wounds! A bat did not make that so. What. happened. in. 1986? And do not tell me an earthquake…” 

After a long explanation, you still could not understand what the most important people in your life had been keeping from you for twenty-eight years. 

“So that brings us to now…” Dustin looked at Eddie. “Tell us exactly what you remember.” 

“I was with you,” he said, pointing to your dad. “And the bats got me; I passed out, I guess because I didn’t remember anything, and when I woke up, I was in the trailer park, but it wasn’t the trailer park anymore… I was here.” 

“There must be an explanation… do you think a gate is open now?” Steve spoke. 

“Not possible; that was closed years ago.” 

“Wait, so what happened to Vecna?” Eddie asked. 

“El dealt with him; he’s long gone.” 

“Wait… Aunt Jane?” You clarified. 

“Yes,” the group confirmed. 

You still cannot believe what the fuck was going on? How everyone seemed so casual about the topic of supernatural occurrences happening in the eighties. 

“I think I need to lie down…” you excuse yourself from the conversation. 

This was too much, too overwhelming. How were you to believe all of this? The evidence was right in front of you… Eddie had time-travelled, and your family confirmed that. 

“Birdie honey, I’m sorry; I never wanted you to learn about all the shit we went through.” Your father pulled you in for a hug before you got too far. 

You needed a second to collect your thoughts, so you went to your living room to lay on your couch. 

You replay the details of what just sprung on you. A man with supernatural powers wanted to take over the town of Hawkins, Indiana, and your aunt, who also has supernatural powers, defeated him. Your dad and his friends, your aunts and uncles, helped. Your super nerdy, uncool father helped save the world. And Eddie, their dead friend, was now alive; somehow time travelled unknowingly and is sitting in your kitchen…

You’re unsure how much time has passed, but you feel the couch dip by your feet. 

“Hey,” a deep voice you’ve now recognized as Eddie filled the empty room. 

“Hey,” you open your eyes and face him. 

“I uh… I just wanted to thank you for everything. You’re being super cool about all of this, about not calling the police on me, calling Dustin- uh, your Dad-that’s so fucking weird to say- I’m glad it was your home I broke into.” He fiddled with the hem of the borrowed shirt you lent him. 

“I wouldn’t say I’m being cool. Honestly, I’m freaking out, but you’re welcome.” You half-heartedly smile. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m just as freaked out about this whole mess as you are… in the same boat and all, I guess.”

You hum with acceptance.

When you finally came around and decided to get off the couch, Eddie had already returned to the group's elders, and you walked in on their conversation. 

“Oh, god! Wayne?! Is he? Where?” Eddie couldn’t believe this was the first time he thought of his uncle’s whereabouts. 

“I’m so sorry, Ed.” Dustin couldn’t look him in the eye as he spoke. 

“He’s… what happened?” His voice shook. 

“We would visit from time to time over the years; he found a wife, he never stopped talking about you, he loved you.” Robin smiled as tears welled. 

“The uh… the smoking caught up to him. Lung cancer. He was diagnosed about ten years ago. He fought it for a long time but passed in 2019.” you hear your dad sigh. “…but even if he were still alive, Eddie, you’d sure give him a heart attack if he saw you,” Dustin chides 

“No… yea... No, I guess he would be almost ninety-four now…” Eddie sniffles, trying to hide his glossy eyes.

Not even five hours into living in the future, and it sucked immensely; who knows if he would get to go back home to his time. you felt for him your heart yearned to hug him and tell him it was all going to be okay, but you just met the guy.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” Your dad touched his shoulder, and your mom looked at him sorrowfully. Like you, she had never met the man your dad idolized. 

As a kid, you were told stories of the great Eddie the Banished, and you worshiped what your father told you about him. But now, seeing the real man in the flesh, wounded, scared, and confused, humanized him. You felt so sorry for him; you wanted to do all you could to help him. 

“Ed, I think we should take you to a hospital,” Steve spoke, breaking the tension. 

“How? I don’t exist. I can’t pay for anything.”

“We have insurance and money; we can pay for it,” Steve rebutted. 

“What if someone recognized me?” 

“What if we gave you a makeover?” You suggested. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“My daughter is right, Eddie; you stick out like a soar thumb.” 

“What do I need to change?” He asks hesitantly. 

“The hair,” you nod. 

“No."

"Not like all of it, but, you know... shorter" You cocked your head, amazing his features.

He was very handsome, and you were attracted to him more than you would care to admit. You should not feel like this toward your dad's friend. Technically, he was thirty years your senior, but you were older than him in the real world.

Eventually, you will accept your supernatural time-travelling weird-ass family secret, but for now, you need to focus on Eddie healing and looking like he was from this century. 

You take to your phone for inspiration. Tapping away on the touch screen, Eddie is memorized by the new technology before him. 

“Can you uh- show me that stuff?” He points to your phone in your hands. 

“Yeah, of course,” you blush; Eddie's intense gaze on you didn’t go unnoticed by your overbearing father. 

“Woah woah woah, no—nope,” Dustin spoke as he wedged between you and the time-travelling man.

“Dad!” You scold.

“What are you even talking about, man?” 

“I know you, Eddie,” your father gave him a stern look. 

“I had no idea what you’re talking about?” he shook his head. But he was lying. He thought you were hot; there was no denying that. It was weird that you were Dustin’s offspring, but did that matter to Eddie? No. He has experienced much weirder these past few days.

“Let’s focus people.” Steve snapped. “Makeover—than a hospital.”

After some internet sleuthing, you and Eddie decided on a haircut you both agreed on. 

“You trust me?” You raise your brows. 

“No, but I don’t really have a choice.” He looked at your overprotective father, hovering, not leaving the two of you unsupervised. 

“Dad, there is not enough room in the bathroom for all of us. Can you leave?” You sass. 

“No funny business,” he points.

"No funny business? The girl has scissors to my head." 

“Mooooooom,” you call for her to help.  

This was ridiculous. You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices, and Eddie is injured; that’s probably the last thing on his mind… and he’s probably not even thinking about you like that. So what could possibly happen? 

You turn to Eddie with a smile as your mom drags away your father. 

As you work away chopping at his hair, rewinding, and re-watching the tutorial off TikTok, you are not paying attention to Eddie's reaction to cutting his hair. If you looked down, you would see a man in pure heaven, blissed out by your touch. To see Eddie's eyes close when your fingers run through his hair. Eddie hadn’t had someone touch his hair in years, not since he first started growing it out. Fully immersion making sure his hair is even, you also don’t notice that you’re standing between his legs and your tits are sat directly at Eddie’s eye level, bouncing around in your tank top, as your arms work above his head. 

Eddie tried hard not to stare; that’s another reason why his eyes were closed, but here he was, basking in your touch while fighting with himself to keep his eyes from zeroing in on your chest. He felt overwhelmed by you in the best way possible, your delicate voice and gentle touch mixed with your sweet-smelling perfumes and hair products. It didn’t take much for Eddie to get wrapped up in you. You had been so kind to him; he was so scared this morning. He was scared of the pain of his injuries; he was alone and the fact that he was no longer in his proper time. 

You made him feel comfortable and safe, but you also made him nervous because he is attracted to you. Once the fright wore off and the calm washed over him when you offered your shower and food, it was instant; how couldn’t he fall for your beauty? 

“What about my face?” Eddie speaks, his eyes still baring into your chest. 

“What about it?” As you step back, your eyes are drawn to the man beneath you. You can't help but admire the striking features that define his face. You trimmed his unruly, chocolate-brown hair, but it still falls in gentle waves that frame his face beautifully. The freckles that dot his cheeks and nose add a touch of playfulness to his otherwise serious expression. But it's his eyes. Those are what captivate you the most. Thick, dark lashes frame deep, earthy-toned irises that seem to hold a whole other world. You can't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him.

“Should I shave?” She cocks his head, a few wet tendrils fall on his forehead, and you can’t help but admire his beauty. His scratched face bore a five-o-clock shadow; the circles under his eyes only darkened as the hours passed. However, it only made his deep brown orbs that much more compelling.

“No,” you smile. “I like the scruff.” 

You step back again to admire your work, and Eddie’s eyes awkwardly try to look everywhere but you. 

“Okay, I think we are good,” you smile as you run your fingers through his curls again with a bit more holding mousse. 

Eddie holds back a whimper when your fingers are no longer in contact with his scalp, but he swallows it and stands up off the chair to look in the mirror. 

He smirks at the soft mullet look you’ve given him. It’s still a nod to the eighties but more modern. It’s long still, but he reluctantly doesn’t hate it. 

“I don’t have anything to tip you with,” he awkwardly giggles. 

“That’s okay. You can thank me later.” 

“SHIT” 

“What? What's wrong?” Eddie whipped his head around. He hated hospitals.

“It’s Andy.”

“As in Jason’s friend Andy? As in, Andy that tried killing me, Andy?” 

“Yea, he’s a doctor now.” 

“Fuck” Eddie whispered under his breath. 

“Ok, new plan. You’re my nephew, and your name is Jeremy.” Dustin removed his glasses and put them on Eddie as an extra disguise. 

“Jeremy?” 

“Jeremy.” 

“Dude no, that—“

“How can I help you, gentleman, this afternoon?” Andy. Dr. Andy pushed aside the curtain. 

“He was out hiking and was attacked by a… a….” Dustin stumbled. 

“Bobcat,” Eddie finished. 

“A bobcat in Hawkins?” Dr. Andy raised a brow in question. 

“I was up north. I patched it up, but I thought it should be looked at.” Eddie cleared his throat. 

“OK, let’s take a look. Where is the injury.” He puts down his tablet and watches how Eddie lifts up his shirt, revealing the amateur job you’ve done. 

“It’s also on my leg, but it’s uh, this is the worst of it.” he clears his throat, wincing as Andy peels back the medical tape. 

He lets out a whistle as he examines Eddie’s torso. 

“A bobcat you say?” 

Eddie nods his head silently. 

“Okay, it looks like it’s been cleaned pretty well. You did a good job, but I’ll have to suture some of the gashes that are still bleeding. Andy looks at Eddie and really looks at him this time. 

“Do I?  What did you say your name is?” 

“Jeremy Potter, my nephew! On my wife’s side.” Dustin interrupted. 

Eddie gave him a look to cool it. He was so jumpy it would be suspicious. 

“Huh. Ok. Let’s get you all fixed.” 

A half-hour later, Eddie and your dad stroll out of the examination room with some antiseptic creams and low-grade painkillers. 

“So, uh, it’s getting late; should we grab dinner and go back to Birdie’s?” your dad says. 

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.” Eddie can hear his stomach growl again. 

After picking up the food, Eddie and your dad finally arrived at your place, almost five hours later. You had spent the entire time waiting at home, feeling anxious and restless. As you waited, you couldn't help but imagine Eddie being tended to by a cute nurse. You pictured her doting on him, taking care of him in ways you never could. The thought of him falling for her made your heart ache with jealousy. Despite your best efforts to push away these feelings, you couldn't help but imagine him walking away from you, leaving you behind.

You didn't understand why these feelings were happening. You’d known him for less than twenty-four hours, and the urge to protect and care for him was so strong. You were already starting to miss him and worry about him.

Your mom kept you company, as she felt it wasn’t good for either of you to be alone. The others had to leave, but your mom stayed, and you discussed more of what happened before you were conceived. She knew exactly how you felt, overwhelmed and crazy. It took a while for her to come to terms with what your father described to her all those years ago, but she loved him too much not to believe him, especially when she saw what Jane could do. 

A sense of relief washed over you as your dad and Eddie returned from the hospital. They were okay; his injuries weren’t bad, and he could return to you.  

“Could I stay with, uh, with you guys? Eddie asks your folks, and you set the table, and your stomach drops.

“Shit, man, we are renovating right now; we don’t have space.” 

“You can stay here,” you quickly offered. Your whole guest room hadn’t been used in months. 

“Are you sure? I don’t—you have already done so much for me.” He blushes. 

“Please? I insist.” 

You couldn’t sleep, and he wasn’t going out on the street.

“You raised a good one, Dusty Bun,” Eddie teased.

“Dusty Bun?” You giggle.

“Oh yes your dad had this imaginary girlfriend, Suzy, and—“

“She was real!” Your dad boomed back.

And the three of you laughed.

The house fell silent when your parents left. After saying your goodbyes, you and Eddie stood awkwardly by the door until you offered to show him the room in which he would be staying.

“Sorry if it’s a little feminine for your taste, but the mattress is really comfortable; it’s memory foam,” you smiled.

“Memory foam?” He questioned.

“You sink into it and feel like you’re on a cloud, trust me. Give it a go,” you gesture to the bed for him to sit on.

You watch as Eddie takes a few steps, and she’s his body to sit on the edge; when his bum hits the comforter, his eyes widen, and he falls back and lets out a moan.

“Holy shit, I’m never leaving” he splays himself over the mattress, and you can’t help but giggle.

“I mean-“

“It’s okay, Eddie, I understand. You can stay as long as you need to.”

Who knows how much time he will be here? How would you even begin to figure out how he gets back home? And can he even get back home? Would he have to go through the upside-down again? Or could he just appear back in the real Hawkins? So many unsolved answers were running through everyone’s minds.

Did Eddie even want to go back? Probably. That would be a bummer, you like him, and not only because he is your father’s good friend….

The longer you pondered, the more awkward the silence became.

“Hey, you want a drink?” you offer, not really thinking; you just need something to ease the tension.“Wait, are you old enough to have a drink?” you eye him. 

“Trust me, sweetheart, I can take a drink.” 

“How old did you say you were again?” 

“I’ll be twenty-two this….year? Well, uh, you know.”

You both walk back to your kitchen and grab the bottle of white wine from the fridge.

“This is all I have, I hope it’s okay?”

“I’ll take anything,” he smirks, and your stomach does a summersault.

You ignore the deep inner attraction and walk over to the cabinet where you keep your glassware.

“So, uh— you gonna call me Uncle Eddie?”

You turn to see that smirk still plastered on his face.

“Absolutely not,” you deadpan.

“Why not?”

Because that would mean I want to fuck my uncle…

“I’m older than you.” You uncork the bottle and pour two big glasses each.

“Not technically."

"Technically, you'd be old and wrinkly," you giggle.

"I would still be a badass, though."

"A badass?"

"Oh yeah, everyone is scared of me." He looked a bit sad.

Your dad did tell you how the town was scared of devil worship and shit but you never took it seriously.

“Not scary to me,” you smile.

“Oh yeah, you could handle all of this?”

“I’m a grown woman; you couldn’t handle me.” You pass him the wine glass.

“I’m technically older than you,” he reminds you again. 

“You’re lucky you’re the legal drinking age.”

“Still legal.” His tone implies something more. 

“I could run laps around you.”

“You think so?”

“I know sweetheart”

The name made your stomach flip, and you took a big sip of wine before you moved to sit on your sofa in the living room.

Eddie followed and sat on the other side facing you.

“So tell me more about the future.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Shit, everything.” He took a long sip and hummed at the flavour.

“What’s Ozzy doing?”

“Like Ozzy Osborn?”

“Yea.”

“He’s fine; he used to have a reality show," you giggled.

“About what?”

“Him and his family.”

“Really? And people like that?”

“Oh, yeah, it was huge. I never watched it, but it was pretty mainstream…. You like metal?”

“Like is an understatement. Had my own band and everything.”

“Oh yea dad mentioned that Uncle Jeff was in a band… coffin something?”

Eddie bloomed with pride that you knew of his band. His face turned flush but he could blame that on the alcohol.

“Corroded Coffin.”

“Yes that’s it!” You snapped your fingers. “You cover anything I would know?”

“Uh maybe? Metallica, Dio, Ozzy… obviously.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard some stuff from those bands. Uh, here, let me put in something. “ you smile and grab your phone.

Eddie watches in awe as your fingers click against the glowing rectangle in your hands.

“That thing can play music?”

You nod your head and smile.

“Anything it can’t do?”

“Not really” you shake your head.

You find an 80’a playlist, thinking it will make him feel at home and he was in awe.

“Can you show me more about that?” He points to your smartphone.

“I’m yea sure.” You scoot closer to him so he can see and he looks down at the glowing screen.

As you show him the different features, he’s enamoured with Spotify. He loves how you can have any music at your fingertips.

Google was also another thing he had way too much fun with, asking anything and everything he could think of. He googled Metallica and was shocked when they were nominated for a Grammy only a few years later.

Online shopping was also a whirlwind to explain. Amazon was a trip for him; he couldn't believe in one-day shipping for anything you could desire.

“You mentioned you liked fantasy stuff, what do you like?” You snuggled into him closer so you could see the phone in Eddie’s grip.

“Lord of the rings, D&D, Excalibur— "

"Oh my god!" you jump, and so does Eddie.

"What?!"

You don't answer but scurry to find your TV remote.

"Woah," Eddie mumbles as he sees the crisp picture on the flat screen, which lights up the dark room.

You hold down the mic button on the remote and speak into it. Sure, you could have typed it out, but showing Eddie futuristic things was fun.

"Lord of the Rings"

You turn and watch Eddie to see his eyes light up when the trilogy of movies appears on screen.

"No way!"

"There are also three movies of The Hobbit," you giggle.

It was like watching a kid on Christmas morning. The pure joy on Eddie's face said this was the best news he’d ever heard. And to his defence, this was the best thing that’d happened to him in about three weeks.

“Well, I know what I’m doing tomorrow. I need to be all in and clear-minded when I get to experience these.”

“We can make a day of it.” You smile, not even thinking about your job or any responsibilities. Sure, you worked from home, but you were not getting any work with Eddie in the house.

“Really?” He smiles.

“Yea.” You smile back.

The look in his eyes was too intense. You had to break eye contact and excuse yourself to get the bottle.

You don’t even ask Eddie if he wants more, but you empty the contents into his glass and then return to get the second bottle in the back of your fridge.

The conversation held its own as you explained to Eddie about Tesla, social media, legalization of weed in some states, LGBTQ+ rights, 9/11, Obama, Trump, and the pandemic. You didn't want to overwhelm him with too much at first, but you settled on important things.

“Is sex still the same in the future?” He asked casually. And you almost choke.

“Explain to me how it is in the eighties, and I’ll let you know,” you giggle. The alcohol was definitely taking effect.

“W-w-well I….shit” he didn’t think you’d bite.

“Come on, Eddie. We are both adults.” You slide your foot across the couch and nudge his leg playfully.

“Never mind, forget it.” He blushes.

“No, come on, what do you want to know?”

“Is porn still a thing?” He meekly asks, and you can’t help but burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I promise I’m not laughing at you; it’s just like the biggest industry on the internet.”

“Yea?”

“Oh yea. Anything you are into it’s there. Trust me.”

“Trust you? You’ve paid for porn? Sweetheart, I didn’t take you as that kinda girl,” He accuses.

“Hell no, I don’t pay for it.” You laugh.

“Then how do you know what’s out there?” He retorted.

“Because it’s free.” You take your last sip of wine for the night.

Eddie stares at you, mouth agape.

“I’m a single woman, and I have needs.” You defend.

Eddie was stunned. Did he just hear that you touch yourself to free porn on that tiny electric box in your hands? Yes, he did.

“Uh— uh, is there any chance I could brow that phone thing you got there?"

"Absolutely not!" you laughed.

"Why not?! I’m a curious man! I need to learn I have needs too."

"Good night, Eddie," you laugh as you get up off the couch.

“Birdie, come on, please!”

“Goodnight, Eddie.” You shake your head and leave Eddie alone to get ready for bed.

The next morning you were tired, to say the least. You’d gone to bed late and decided to call in sick for the rest of the week.

You woke up around 10:00 a.m. to find the guest room door ajar, and Eddie was still sound asleep. He probably needed a good night's sleep after everything he’d been through, so you made your way downstairs to make breakfast for the both of you.

As the smells wafted through the house, they made their way to the guest room and woke up Eddie instantly. He woke up with a jerk, having forgotten where he was for a split second, but he calmed down once he remembered you.

“He pulled on the same sweatpants and shirt you gave him yesterday and stumbled down to the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepy head,” you smiled over your shoulder.

Eddie wasn’t ready to see you in only a small tank top and tiny sleep shorts.

“M-morning” he stuttered as he took in the view of you.

“I’m making us some food; hope you like bacon and eggs”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“How about coffee?” You walk over to your specialty coffee bar. You loved making gourmet coffees with the syrups and milks.

“Black, please.” he walked over to see the different options.

“That’s so boring! Let me make you something special.”

He gave another funny look, but you insisted.

So you ignore his request, brew your cinnamon coffee pod, add dulce de leche-flavoured syrup and a splash of cream, and slide it over to him.

He looks at you suspiciously, sniffs it and gives a curious look.

“Oh my god, it’s delicious. Just taste it.”

“I’m not sure what freaky futuristic shit you put in this,” he teases.

You squint your eyes but then give a smirk of satisfaction as his eyes bulge as he takes the first sip.

“Shit, that’s good,” he mumbles before taking another sip.

“Told ya” you turn back to the food of the stove to start platting it.

It was fairly quiet as the both of you ate. Eddie was still scarfing down the food like he’d never eaten a home-cooked meal, which made you more curious about the events he’d been through.

“I was thinking we could go shopping today. Can we get you some clothes and maybe a phone?” You tease.

“A phone?” He perked up.

“Maybe, I’m not sure how long you’re staying, and if you wanted to keep in contact with everyone, it’s the easiest way.” You shrugged.

“O-o-okay. But then we can come back here and watch Lord of the Rings?"

"Of course." You smile

Your dad and Uncle Steve met you at the Starcourt Mall around noon. You never thought you would be shopping with these two and their dead friend, but here you were.

After a very long time in Target, and a fashion show, Eddie got a full wardrobe.

“Can we get Eddie a phone?” You ask as you hrough the familiar halls.

“Really? Do you think he needs one? We don’t know how long he’ll be here,

“We don’t even know if we can get him back home”

“I think I’d like one… if it isn’t too much money.” Eddie asked.

“Don’t worry about that Ed’s” your dad turns.

So you and Eddie walk over to the mobile booth and get him a basic smartphone so he can interact with everyone.

Eddie was still enamoured by the touch screen technology, especially in your car. You had to tell him off for messing with the music but he couldn’t help himself.

You let him know you’d help him with his playlist once you got home.

When you and Eddie get home, you teach him how to use it. After the painstaking lesson, he seems to eventually get used to the new technology. He seemed like a natural after an hour or so then the two of you settled down to watch the movie.

You had the whole set up with blankets, pillows, snacks, and drinks.

Turns out Eddie has a knack for new technology because that night, it didn’t take much for him to find porn. He was overwhelmed by the thousands of options. He clicked the first few that were featured and basically came without seconds of watching, but Eddie was determined and unbelievably horny. After the first time, he wasn’t satisfied, so he continued to look for videos. His curiosity took over with all of the categories, but he found himself going back to the ones where the girl resembled you.

As you’re laying in bed trying to fall asleep, you hear him. Did he not release how loud he was? How incredibly hot he sounded as his grunts travelled through your walls. You couldn’t get the image of Eddie touching himself out of your head, no matter how hard you tried to block him out. You couldn’t even get your headphones because they were in your purse downstairs, and you didn’t want to get up and alarm Eddie.

So you lay there on your phone, scrolling mindlessly until you see Eddie’s new contact pop up. You click on it instantly. It’s a voice note.

Do you dare? You know what he’s doing down the hallway. Even if it is muffled, it’s obvious. You can hear the moans of a girl getting fucked on the screen.

The little devil on your shoulder wins as you find yourself pressing play.

‘Uuuuuuuh fuck-yessssss, just like that! Unnnnnngh mmmmmmmm so hot, fuck-“

His voice was deep and gasping with need.

You didn’t even know you could record a voice note while watching a video, but who knows?

“Such a good girl. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm”

And it cuts off. You rewind it again to listen to him say goodgirl, and your stomach flip flops, and you can feel something burning in your core.

It’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone. You can’t help but reach for your vibrator hidden in your nightstand.

You replay the voice note and turn it on. You imagined Eddie’s body on yours, how he would touch your skin, kiss your collarbone, eat you out, praise you; God, his voice was so hot, you were quivering with pleasure. Before you knew it, you had been cumming within minutes.

The next morning, you, too, were oblivious to Eddie also hearing your needy breaths.

He had no idea that he was the reason behind them, but when he heard the toy's low humming and your moans, he had a slight hunch that you were also doing the same as him.

“Sleep well?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to see Eddie trying to figure out the coffee maker. He turns to see you in nothing but a large T-shirt, fuzzy socks, and bunny slippers, and he never thought he could feel more butterflies looking at someone. It’s fast, it’s strong, and it’s scaring Eddie. His attraction to you is nothing like he’s experienced before.

“Uh yeah— you?" you think back to how you fell asleep, blissed out.

“Yeah,” he smirks, also thinking back to how he made himself cum three times last night, a new personal best.

You think for a minute that you should tell him about the voice note, but you decide against it. It would only be an uncomfortable situation. So you leave it and pretend like nothing happened.

You drove both you and Eddie to Uncle Steve's house. It was a strange and surreal experience watching Steve and Eddie interact, as if no time had passed since they last saw each other. It was like they had picked up their friendship right where they left off.

As you and Eddie caught up with Steve, you learned about what happened after the incident. There was a funeral, which was attended by few people, but the ones who mattered were there. You discovered that the kids took turns visiting the empty grave, cleaning up the graffiti left by the townspeople. Eventually, the graffiti stopped and people ceased to care. However, Hellfire and the rest of the gang still visited the grave and left flowers from time to time.

Steve got married, but the marriage didn't last long. You remembered how much you disliked her when they visited you as a kid. Steve never got over Nancy; he still loved her, even though she chose someone else. He hoped they would find their way back to each other someday, but she had moved overseas for investigative journalism.

Eddie wasn't surprised to hear that Uncle Mike and Aunt Jane got married. Although he had never met her, he remembered how fondly Mike had spoken about her. Mike loved her with all his heart.

You also learned that Will, the other boy Eddie never met, became a big animator working in LA. Steve shared that Lucas was the basketball coach at Hawkins High, and Erica had become a CEO.

Eddie asked about Max, and Steve replied that she was okay now. It took a while, but after Vecna had gotten to her, she was in a coma for months. Her vision never came back, and it took a long time for her to recover. Steve half-heartedly smiled. Eddie cringed and asked if Vecna had any more victims, and Steve replied that Carver hadn't made it. There was a huge earthquake that came from the Upside Down that killed about ten people they didn't know. Talking about it was clearly bothering Steve, but Eddie needed to know.

"Can you show us some pictures?" You asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, sure, kid." He smiles and leads you to where he kept the photo albums. After seeing all the memories Eddie missed out on, he felt a feeling he's never felt before.

"You okay?" You ask, noticing how quiet he was on the drive back.

"Yeah? No? I don’t know. I’m just— I missed out so much! I was supposed to be there with them! I'm starting to regret my choice of staying back… I. Shit that sounds awful, but I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be back there, in 1986, with my friends and my uncle! And now I'm stuck here and don't even know if I'll be able to go back home?!"

You don't know why you're hurt by Eddie's words, but you are. This wasn't about you, but the thought of Eddie not wanting to be here made you feel like he doesn't want to be with you.

"Don't say that, Eddie! What you did was brave; it was dignified! You chose to help save your friends. Sure, it was a little stupid because you died. Or didn't die? I don't know… but I always saw you as this hero my dad would talk about! You're honourable and kind and so selfless. And somehow, it led you to here…"

To me.

"Thanks, Sweetheart."

The nickname made your heart flutter. It's not the first time he called you that, but each time it doesn't go unnoticed.

"I'm scared," Eddie finally admits as you pull into the driveway.

"I know," you whisper.

You would be terrified if it were you in Eddie's position. You don't know how he's held it together this long. You weren't lying when you told him he was brave. He's the bravest person you've ever met."

Several weeks have passed, and you and Eddie have settled into a comfortable routine. You’re back at work, and Eddie has accepted that he will be stuck in the future. You and Eddie wouldn’t want to leave one another at the end of each day. You’d catch one another, with both of your lingering glances.

Your family had searched for anything and everything to research and look into anything that could be used as a portal to the upside-down or time travel. But the gate was permanently closed and had been for over thirty years, and there was no way they would risk opening it back up just of the possibility of Eddie getting attacked again, so maybe he could get back. The possibility of a gate on the other side was extremely slim because it had been sealed.

Eddie would spend hours sitting by the window, gazing at the vast expansion of houses before him. It was hard to believe that the once-desolate trailer park he called home was now this fancy. The years he had spent away from it had brought about so many changes that he struggled to come to terms with. He often found himself pining for a life that should have been, but he knew deep down that he had to accept the way things were now.

Despite feeling emotionally numb, he took solace in the fact that he was still here, breathing and healing. Each day brought with it small signs of progress, and he clung to them with all his might. He knew that he still had a long road ahead of him, but for now, he was content to sit by the window and watch the world go by, slowly but surely regaining his strength and sense of purpose. he was dead to the world but here he was, living, breathing... healing.

His physical wounds were healed; all that was left was a nasty scar. His mental wounds, however, were still ever-present in his mind. He would have night terrors; he couldn’t hide them. You would hear him screaming in the night, sometimes multiple times, if he was able to fall back asleep.

He tried talking about it with Dustin and the others, but nothing seemed to help. He was exhausted and mentally drained by the fact that nothing was the same; nothing was familiar. Sure, his friends were there for him, but they had changed; they weren’t the same people as he remembered them.

Eddie had another awful dream tonight if you could call it that. It was more of a memory; the exact events of that fatal night replayed as a loop inside his brain.

It always starts when he's with Dustin in the boarded-up trailer. Then, he watches as Dustin crawls through the gate. Eddie waits, watching him for a split second before running back out. He no longer wants to be a coward or a runner. He's surrounded by unearthly creatures, fighting for his life, but there are too many. He can't escape. All he feels is the pain, terror, and then nothing. It's all darkness, quiet, and loneliness. The worst part is the solitude, the feeling of being so alone. He longs for the day when he no longer feels that way.

Sometimes, when he's with you, he forgets that he's not supposed to be here. But as soon as he returns to this room, which is not his, it all comes crashing back down.

As the night wore on, Eddie's screams pierced through the stillness of the house. You had been lying awake for hours, listening to his panicked cries, feeling helpless and powerless to ease his distress. You can no longer take it; you can't listen to him suffer. You push the covers off, not caring that you’re only in a big T-shirt, and walk over to Eddie’s room and timidly knock on the door.

You slowly push it open as he never latches it fully shut. You can see him in the dim light of the moon fling the room and the light from the hallway. He’s a bit sweaty, trashing under the covers. He’s still sleeping, if that’s what you can call it. You can’t imagine the image playing in his mind as you slowly make your way over to wake him, to not get knocked out in the process. The room was dimly lit, and Eddie's ragged breathing was the only sound as he tried to calm himself down.

Eddie hadn't noticed you walked over to him, he was still sleeping. You sat beside him, gently stroking his hair, and whispered comforting words in his ear. Slowly but surely, his screams subsided, and his breathing became more regular.

“Eddie,” you gently whisper, brushing your hand across his bare back. His skin is sticky with sweat but he’s cold.

“Eddie,” you repeated, slowly circling your hand around his back in comfort.

He jerks awake with a gasp, and unexpectedly, he grabs you and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I’m so scared, Birdie.” You can feel him trembling in your arms as your body slowly relaxes under his touch.

“Shhhh. I’ve got you; I’m here.” You hold him as silent tears fall down his cheeks, staining your shirt. You rock him slowly to help calm him down. You lay beside him in silence, there for him, holding him.

“I don’t- can you-“ he takes a deep breath. You stay quiet to let him gather his thoughts.

“Can.... you stay with me tonight?”

Your heart melts as you hear the words trickle from his lips. He’s so delicate. He needs to be cared for, and you’re more than willing.

“Come.” You take his hand and lead him to your room. You pull him into your still-warm bed, snuggling under the covers together.

This isn't the closest youve been to Eddie. You've managed to fall asleep on his shoulder while watching the lord of the Rings movies a time or two. But this felt different. It was more intimate, and you weren't sure how to go about it.

You let Eddie take the lead as you lay beside him. You feel his fingers intertwine with yours under the duvet, and you squeeze his hand before opening up your arms so you can hold him. He lays his head on your chest. The tears have subsided for now, and you kiss the top of his head without thinking. You let your lips linger on his head before he looked up at you. His pleading eyes long for any source of comfort, especially from you.

You have been there for him, even when you should have called the cops after he broke into your house. But you were selfless; you let him find shelter, a shower, clean clothes, and food, all before you knew who he was. He was so frightened, but you showed him compassion. He started falling for you then, even if he didn't really see it a month ago; he sees it now.

You're so kind and fun; you get him to the fullest degree, even if you're not from the same time. Maybe Eddie has Dustin to thank, but he is falling for you. At this moment, in another time of need, you're with him in the middle of the night, comforting him even if you have work tomorrow. Eddie sees that didn't matter to you. You're here for him. So can he really blame himself when he tilts his head further to see more comfort from you in a gentle kiss? No, he can't. He's been longing for this, pining and itching to feel his lips on yours.

It takes you by surprise; his lips are so soft and delicate. It's been so long since you've kissed someone you've developed feelings for.

Eddie is desperate for more. He wants this so badly; he moans as he feels you start to kiss him back, but that snaps you out of it.

“We shouldn’t. This is wrong; you’re not in the right headspace.” You pull back, looking into his pleading eyes.

“Please, I want to forget. I don't know how else to forget," he begs you. He needs this to not be remembered, even if it is temporary. Eddie's lips hover centimetres from yours. His hot breath fans over your skin as you try to think of what to do.

You want this, he wants this, so what is stopping you?

"Birdie, if you don't want to, I'll go back to my room; I can move in with Steve or Robin or someone. I'm sorry; I overstepped. I just-"

You cut him off with another kiss, but you're not overthinking it this time. You need him to feel how you're feeling, how everything is only right when you're with him.

Before Eddie came into your life, you felt like everything was average and unremarkable. But since he's entered your world, he's brought a sense of excitement and adventure that you never knew existed. Even though his presence can be chaotic sometimes, you find yourself drawn to him and the thrill he brings. You feel like he's exactly what you've been missing and never want to return to your old, mundane life.

"I need this too, Eddie," you mumble into his lips, and Eddie sighs; his heart skips a beat.

You feel his weight shift as Eddie leans into the kiss. He leans you back into your pillows, taking the lead. You feel how his hands trace up your arms so he can cup your face.

He wants to feel you, breathe you, and be with you. No one has ever shown Eddie so much selflessness as you have. You deserve the world in Eddie’s eyes, and he wants to let you know how grateful he is to have you.

But he also wanted to forget it all—all the terrible things he’d witnessed and gone through. He just wanted it to go away for a while. So, for now, while he’s with you, his anxieties and fears are slowly being plucked away with each moan, gasp, and timid graze.

Eddie can feel your heat through the thin pyjama pants adorning his waist. You’re only in a shirt and your panties, but Eddie needs to see more of you.

“Can I take this off?” He mumbles in between desperate kisses as his fingers grip the hem of your sleep shirt.

You don’t let him ask again before you tug it over your head. You didn’t think his doe eyes could get any bigger, but here he was, proving you wrong, and it only made him look more endearing.

You reach out to Eddie as he sits there like a statue, staring at you. You take his hand, bring it up to your chest, and place his large hand on your breast.

“Hollyshit,” he whispered, realizing he was touching his best friend’s daughter. But that thought quickly passed as you leaned up in to kiss him; it's sloppy, it’s desperate, it’s wet, it’s so hot Eddie thinks he might just bust in his pants here and now when you ground your hips into his already painfully hardened cock.

You can’t help but moan when your pussy brushes up against him. You can feel how turned on he is, and it only makes you want him more.

“More,” you moan as Eddie’s hip grinds into yours.

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers find the twists of your underwear, and he lets his fingers slip down to your slit. You widen your legs so you can feel it all. His long fingers trace up and down your slit, collecting your slick before he impressively finds your clit on the first go.

His lips travel down lower so they can latch on your neck.

“Oh, Eddie,” you breathe as the combination of his fingers and lips sends a shockwave of pleasure through your body. His mouth leaves a mark on your delicate skin.

“Good girl, say my name.”

Another wave of pleasure travels through you these words.

“Eddie,” you moan. You don’t even recognize your own voice. It’s so desperate and needy. If you weren’t so desperate, you’d be embarrassed.

“Fuck, that’s so hot” he slips a single digit up into you to test the waters. “Baby, you’re soaked. All for me?” He groans with need.

“Yes, Eddie, I want you so bad; I need you so bad,” You squirm under his touch. He pumps his thick, long finger in and out before adding another one.

His head travels lower, and his mouth latches onto your perked nipple. His warm, wet mouth feels so nice, but that quickly is gone as he nips at your bud, and you let out an unexpected yelp.

“Fucking love your noises” Eddie moved onto your other nipple doing the same thing, only this time you’re prepared, and you arched up into his touch. His fingers are still working on you, and you’re so close.

“Don’t stop” You’re so close, and he knows it; he can feel your pussy clamping down on him with each pump of his hand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Pleasing you has been the only thing that has made him feel this good in a while.

All his worries and anxieties were by the wayside. His only purpose was to please you, to touch you, to please you.

You could feel it coming; you were so close only a few more seconds, and you would be flooded with ecstasy.

A roar of Eddie’s name rips from your lungs as you soak his fingers. Eddie never thought he would be so lucky to experience this with you, but here he was, watching as your body shook with pleasure all before of him.

“Fuuuuuck, you did so well for me, baby.” You don’t even notice when he sticks his fingers in his mouth to taste you. You’re too blissed out.

You didn’t think your pussy would need anything more, but hearing his praises only makes you quiver with need. You need his cock; you need to make him feel good. This was about him forgetting; this was about the both of you making one another feel good. You needed to take care of him.

Once you caught your breath, you shuffled so he was under you.

Eddie watched as you discarded your soaked panties and were fully naked for him. Kneeling at his waist, drooling over what was under his tented pants.

“Can I?“ you bat your lashes innocently as you reach for the waistband of his pants.

“Fuck, you have to ask, sweetheart; any time you want to, just do it.”

You giggle at his eagerness, but it’s cut off when you see just how pretty his cock is.

The head is so pink; it’s just screaming at you to put it in your mouth.

Your mouth waters as he grips his cock in his hand, guiding it to your mouth.

You stick out your wet tongue and the moonlight reflects off of it, it’s that wet.

Eddie can’t help but tap it a few times before you take his tip fully.

Eddie’s messy curls fall back as he lets his head hang, you looked up through your lashes to see his exposed neck and it only made you want to mark him as yours.

Your attention shifts when you feel his large hand run along your scalp, gently tugging at your roots. Your eyes roll back as his grip tightens, and you sink deeper.

His hard cock feels heavy in your mouth. His small whimpers make your pussy drip as you bob your head up and down his shaft. His taste and smell are overwhelming. All you want is to please him. To help him forget. Selfishly, you only want him to focus on you, and it’s working.

Eddie can’t believe he’s in your room, in your bed, watching you naked as you give him the best head of his life. He’s forgotten everything; he only knows you and how you’re making him feel. He’s feeling good. It's the first time in weeks he feels good, amazing even.

“Such a good girl, Birdie.” He tried so hard to not thrust his hips up into your mouth, but it’s so hard when he feels you take all the way.

You nuzzle your face into the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. It’s soft and smells of him; it’s overwhelmingly Eddie. You drool out of the sides of your mouth as you finally come back up for air. Replacing your mouth with your hand. Jacking him off as Eddie takes your mouth in his own once again.

“Need to be inside of you.” he pulls you up so you're straddling his lap.

You adjust quickly so you can sink slowly on his cock. I'm not even thinking about a condom; you’re on birth control anyway. You need him. He needs you. Simple.

You hold his shoulders for balance as you ease your way on his thick long cock. It burns slightly as he stretches you out, but you need it. You want it.

“Fuck you’re so big, Eddie” your head falls back as you sink to the bottom.

Eddie watches in awe as your body envelopes itself around him. You’re so tight and warm around him that he can’t help but grip your hips to help guide you up and down his cock.

Slowly you start to rise and fall on his cock. Both your mouths hang open as the pleasure courses through your veins. You slowly build up your place until you’re bouncing on his cock.

“Got, you’re so fucking hot,” Eddie pants.

He can’t help but take your breast in his mouth again. This had to be the hottest experience of his life. An ‘older’ girl from the future wanting him just as much as he wanted her? Fuck maybe this was heaven?

“Does that feel good, baby?” you coo. All you want is for him to feel as good as you do.

“Shit, yes, your pussy is so tight, fuck me. You’re so sexy.”

“You’re so big,” you moan.

You silence him with another kiss. You feel his tongue in your mouth immediately. He’s so skilled it makes you think how he can use it elsewhere….

“I’m so close, Birdie. Are you close?” He pulls back.

“Mmmmmmmmmm” you nod your head yes.

You need more, but your legs are burning and about to give out. Your pace falters, and Eddie can see you’re getting tired, so he steadies your hips and fucks himself up into you.

“Oh my god!!! Eddie!!!” You hold on to his shoulder to brace yourself. His cock hits your g spot with each powerful stroke; it feels so good you can’t focus on anything else but cuming all over him.

“That’s it, Birdie, come on my cock, good girl.”

“Holy shit,” you cry out.

“I’m going to come. Where do you want?”

“Inside!” The aftershock still taking over your senses.

You listen to Eddie’s grunts as he releases himself inside of you, it sounds so hot you didn’t think he could be any more attractive, but he was holding you down on his cock, not letting any of his cum leak out just yet.

You collapse down onto Eddie chest as your heavy breathes become synchronized.

“I think they nicknamed you the wrong woodland creature.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to call you Bunny stress of Birdie.”

Your brain is still foggy, and you’re unsure what he means.

“You’re like a bunny hopping all over my cock”

“Eddie!” You playfully slap his chest before you decide to go off of him.

“So, is sex really that much different from the eighties?” You giggle as you roll over to lie beside him.

“I think it might be better,” he says as he pulls you in for another hot kiss.

“You wanna go again?” You look at him, surprised.

“What? Can’t keep up with a younger man?”

“It’s four in the morning, Eddie. I have to work,” you moan. Your heart wants it, but your head says otherwise.

“Shit! I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. Tomorrow, I’ll show you what I can do; that first round was nothing.” You giggle.

After Eddie helped you get cleaned up, the room was silent for a bit.

"Thank you for being there for me, Bridie." Eddie takes your hand and gently squeezes it.

"No need to thank me, Eddie, I'll always be there for you."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson imagine #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #modern eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson fluff

[kinopio-writes]

Hello dearie!!

How are you? I hope you're doing well!

I saw that your asks were open,and your content is really cool and silly,So I decided to leave you a nice ask to enjoy!

Could I have a headcanon platonic! Alastor,Vox and Husk finding a random child next to their dead mother, except that they don't really understand that she's dead and think she's sleeping,so they pity the child and take them in?

The child is really polite and nice,pretty calm,too. Sure,they do child stuff,like running around,being excited,etc,but they still are more calm than others.

They always talk about their mother,how she's the only one left,and how they love her.

Would the characters say the truth? Would they lie?

I just love hurt/comfort and platonic relationships so :3

Anyways,I hope that's not too much,and that you enjoy writing this!

Have a really nice day,don't forget to drink and take breaks!

Stay proud!

-Nina <33

A/N: Thank you for the reminders, heh. Btw, I’m going to have to change the reasons as to why they took you in because I just don’t see characters like Alastor and Vox taking you in because of pity. Sorry about that. The rest is untouched. You’ll still get a bit of that hurt/comfort (mostly from Husk, lol. Both Alastor and Vox are non-existent, but Alastor is somehow better than Vox).

Warnings: Mentions of death

———

Alastor, Husk, and Vox adopting a deceased mom’s child

Alastor

• Alastor paid no mind to the dead corpse

• it didn’t really look that appetizing anyway

• “How unfortunate.” You heard a weird voice from behind you as a hand was placed on your shoulder. “A child mourning in the demise of its mother. Tragic, really. You have my condolences.”

• “What are you talking about, mister?” You stared up at the mysterious man, watching his eyes flick from your left to right eye while his grin only grew as the seconds went by

• “I think you’ve just found yourself the perfect dwelling,” he abruptly said, letting go of your shoulder to fix his bowtie as he sprung back to life. “Why don’t you come with me?”

• “But what about my mother?”

• “She is in good hands, I can assure you.” He offered his hand to you. “Come along, now. Children shouldn’t dwell long in places like these.”

• and so he took you in to be a patron at his hotel

• I mean, what’s more easier to redeem than a child? (assuming you’re a sinner. I don’t know if it’s canon anymore that only hellborns can reproduce. Look at Cannibal Town’s people)

• he intended to leave you in the rest of the residents’ care while they could only guess what his actual motivation was for taking you in

• but it seemed you ended up favoring him more than the rest

• you’d follow him around like a duckling—a lost puppy—you’re attached to him like a leech

• and you’re so well-behaved, too

• up until he leaves your sight

• he actually leaves the hotel a lot more often now because of that

• he finds you wrecking chaos in the hotel entertaining as hell

• and the fact that the others beg him to come back to calm you down

• I don’t think you would ever know what happened to your mother

• even when you talk about her a lot

• those rambles never really prompt him to say anything

• well, it’s not as if he knew what happened to her

• but, hey, at least he listens!

• maybe it’s because he feels a little nostalgic hearing the way you talk about her…

———

Husk

• Husk was fucking spooked when he found you lying beside your dead mother

• not because of the corpse, but because of the way you were staring at him

• with eyes dull and wide open, just like your mother

• while Husk wouldn’t have given two shits if it was a grown-ass adult, you were a child

• so he took you in

• “But what about my mother?”

• “Shi—I, uh—your momma will tag along soon. Now c’mon. She wouldn’t want you out here alone.”

• since Husk is constantly around the hotel, there were never really instances where you wreaked havoc

• you just silently watch him tend the bar and sometimes talk about your mother

• your talks about how much you love her make him feel pretty guilty for some reason

• but he’d probably tell you when you’re older enough

• only if you were asking him about her though

• he wouldn’t want to have to sit you down and tell you something that sensitive of a topic when you didn’t even ask

• “Why don’t I have a mother?” you would suddenly ask when you turned 18

• today was your birthday. Charlie insisted on having a little party for you just like every year. But you didn’t want one; you wanted to be with Husk for the day

• the man in question sighed

• he knew you were building up the courage to ask all day

• “I’m gonna give it to you straight, kid, I don’t know what exactly happened to her. All I know is that she’s in a better place.”

• “Oh…”

• “Do you…wanna talk about it?” He continued, voice a little unsure, “Not as a bartender…but as a dad.”

• you smiled, grateful. “I think I’ve already said plenty when I was younger. But thanks, Dad.”

• he smiled back

• you two would then sit in silence together, basking in each other’s presence

———

Vox

• so, uh, I’m going to have to completely skip the taking you in part with Vox because I genuinely cannot see him adopting a random child (unless he could gain something, but, like, you’re just a kid)

• so you’ll just get the aftermath of it (hope that’s okay)

• based on the way he handled Val’s tantrum, I think it’s safe to assume that he’s somewhat good with children

• but he’s a pretty busy guy

• he doesn’t have the time to take care of a random child, so he’d make sure to keep an eye on you on his cameras

• but despite that, your existence in the tower warrants his

• as you’re too chaotic whenever he isn’t around

• but only around the other expendable employees

• you’re relatively well-behaved when Velvette and Valentino are with you

• but he doesn’t exactly trust them to take care of you

• they aren’t exactly good with children

• so he tried doing video calls

• you will definitely grow up as an iPad kid

• he’d hear you talk about your mom during those calls

• he’d let you go on and on, but it’s not guaranteed that he’ll listen

• I don’t think he would ever tell you what happened to her (he doesn’t know, anyway)

• he won’t lie, he’d just work around your question

• skillfully

• like, extremely so

• even if you ask him directly, he still manages to dodge the question somehow

• I don’t know what else to say, he’s gonna be a pretty distant father—

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #husk x reader #vox x reader #child!reader #child reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel vox #kinopiowrites

[katnisspeetaprim]

Father Figure

Lucifer Morningstar/Platonic!TeenReader

Summary: You'd had a hard time in the sort while you'd been alive, so when your new boss shows you kindness like you've never seen, you can't help but be suspicious...

Warnings: Platonic relationship, teenage fem reader, implied drug use, implied sex work, implied underage sex, dead beat parents, assault, swearing, panic attack, crying, angst, fluff A.N; not sure if I will write a part 2 yet, see how this does!

Word Count: 3102 Hazbin M.list

Hell was a scary place for someone like you. Being a teenager in Hell was less than ideal.

Your parents were useless, always too coked out of their minds to care for you, so you left.

Due to your unfortunate circumstances, you had to resort to some... less than kosher means to survive. It was awful, but it’s all you could do.

One night, one of your clients wouldn’t take no for an answer so when you tried to fight back, things went bad for you.

So here you were.

Luckily, under princess Morningstar’s new work programme, all new sinners would be provided with a job to get them started, if they accepted the help that is. And that’s how you came to be the King of hell’s live in maid.

You’d finally found your way to the mansion, after getting lost multiple times. You felt somewhat intimidated as you stood before the large doors. It just now hit you that you’d be working for the devil himself. The thought made your blood run cold. Why would they give such a high profile job to someone like you? Maybe because you wouldn’t be able to cause any trouble? Either way you couldn’t back out now.

Swallowing back your nerves, you raised a hand and knocked on the door.

Almost immediately the door swung open to reveal a short man, who seemed a little too keen to interact with you.

‘Why hello there! Something I can help you with?’... Was he waiting by the door?

‘I uh- I was told to come here to work?’ You handed him your work certificate, and he quickly scanned it over before breaking out into a smile.

‘Wow! I didn’t expect to get someone so soon!’ It was only after Lucifer read the paper, did he properly look at you. His smile faltered slightly.

‘Uh sorry to be blunt, but you look a little... young?’

‘Well I’m 16.’ You laughed nervously. ‘Is that not ok? I promise I’ll be a good worker!’ Lucifer frowned deeply at your sudden panicked rambling.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to die young, but to end up in Hell?

He knew Earth could be a terrible place, but what could you have done at such a young age to end up here.

‘No no! Just me thinking out loud haha.’ Lucifer quickly backtracked. ‘Please come in.’ He moved to allow you to pass by, now smiling again. You entered, realising you were only slightly shorted than him as you passed by.

Maybe working for the Devil wouldn’t be as scary as you thought.

‘You have no idea how long I’ve needed a maid. I hate cleaning!’ He sighed out dramatically.

Over the coming months, you’d settled well into your job. You suppose you had it easy when it came to jobs in Hell. Cleaning was pretty easy.

Lucifer mostly left you to your own devices, thinking you wouldn’t want to hang out with an old man like him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t make an effort with you.

The first time he approached you in the middle of the day, was to gift you a mobile phone.

‘Hey!’ He slid up to you out of nowhere, making you jump out of your skin. ‘Realised you don’t have a phone! Can’t check in if you don’t have one of those!’ You weren’t used to receiving gifts with no strings attached, But Lucifer didn’t seem to have ulterior motives, so you tentatively accepted.

‘Oh! I’ll even give you my daughters number! You two will get on like a house on fire!’

Another encounter was on an evening. Lucifer was finishing up his supper, when he aught sight of you scurrying round the foyer. He called out for you to come over.

‘Have you eaten yet? It’s getting pretty late...’ You couldn’t help but feel touched that he was seemingly looking out for you.

‘I still have a lot to do... I’m a little behind today...’ You trailed off, worried about being scolded for being tardy.

‘Nonsense! Please join me, there’s way too much for just me anyway.’ Lucifer insisted, jumping up and pulling a chair out for you.

‘Are you sure that’s ok?’ You asked, still a little reserved of his kindness.

‘Of course! Always happy for the company.’

Lucifer could read you like a book. He knew you were still nervous and skeptical of him, but he couldn’t blame you. He still didn’t know the circumstances for you to end up in Hell, plus you were so young, it would take a lot to trust.

Even though you worked for him, Lucifer couldn’t help but feel protective of you.

One of the more recent incidents, was when you got hurt.

The house chef was running out of ingredients, so he asked you to run out and grab them. You happily agreed since you didn’t really have any reason to leave the house otherwise.

Ok. Maybe you’d gone a little over bored, you thought as you juggled the heavy bags in your arms.

‘Hey baby! Need some help with those?’ You looked over and saw a group of 3 men leering at you. You smiled nervously and said ‘ No thank you.’ Before turning round, hoping to get away without any trouble.

‘Hey do you know who your talking to? Don’t be rude!’ One of the men grabbed your arm, causing you to drop your bags.

‘Don’t touch me!’ You screamed out, trying to pry your arm from his grip.

‘We were just offering to walk you home lady, but if you want to get down here, that’s fine by us.’ The second man sneered at you with a smirk as he grabbed your face hard.

Your eyes widened at his words. You were now struggling even more, to no avail. The final man cam up behind you and grabbed your other arm in an attempt to keep you still.

‘Stop struggling will ya!’ The man in front of you spat out, shaking you by the arm. He shook you so violently, that the long sleeve of your dress began to rip. You took advantage of this. Pulling your arm back so hard, your sleeve came off in his hand.

The attacker behind you hadn’t been expected you to fall backwards, so he lost his grip on your arm, giving you just enough time to book it in the direction of Lucifer’s home.

You could hear them running and shouting after you, but you didn’t look back. It wasn’t far now. You just had to make it back to the house and you’d be safe.

Bursting through the main doors, you immediately fell to your knees and cradled your head in your hands as you hyperventilated.

‘Y/N!? What the Hell happened?’ Lucifer had heard the slam of the door so he came out to investigate. He hadn’t expected to find you having a panic attack in his entrance hall.

He was kneeling by your side in an instant, placing a comforting hand on your back. As he looked closer at you, he saw that your sleeve was ripped, with a bruise forming round your wrist. When you looked up at him with wide, teary eyes he also clocked some bruises on your jaw.

Lucifer’s eyes immediately darkened.

‘’m sorry I-I lost the groceries...’ You stuttered out with a shaky voice.  Lucifer’s face immediately contorted.

‘Y/N I don’t give a damn about the groceries! I want to know who did this to you.’ Lucifer was aware of how angry he sounded, but he was honestly offended that you thought he cared more about some groceries than you.

You cowered slightly at his raised voice and Lucifer felt bad. He took a deep breath to calm down before speaking again, much more softly this time.

‘Please Y/N, I need to know who did this.’

You looked up to him and you could see the genuine concern in his eyes. You tried your best to get your sobs under control so you could speak.

‘There was a-a group of three rough looking guys not far from here...’ Lucifer groaned internally. He knew exactly who you were talking about.

They were a group that had been causing trouble round the are for a while now, but he never had a good enough reason to get rid of them... Until now.

Lucifer stood and extended a hand to you with a smile. You hesitantly took his hand and he helped you to your feet.

‘Go get cleaned up ok? I gotta go out for a while.’ He ushered you towards your room.

‘Ok...’ You trailed off sadly.

‘Great!’ Lucifer grinned widely at you as he opened a portal. He stepped through before leaning his head back out to address you.

‘And I don’t want to see you doing house work when I get back, kay?’ he tipped his hat before dashing back through. Then the portal closed.

‘Evening gentlemen.’ The three men from earlier swiftly jumped up from their card game, to see Lucifer leaning up against the wall, blocking the exit to the alley. They all immediately shrunk back when they saw it was him.

‘oh your majesty... What brings you to our hideout?’ Lucifer started to slowly walk into the alley, never tearing his eyes away from the men, making them even more on edge.

‘Uh-sir?’

‘So you think it’s fun to assault kid’s huh?’ Lucifer spoke in an eerily calm voice. The men looked at each other, now sweating profusely.  They all immediately tried to deny the accusations, but Lucifer wasn’t having it.

‘Keep your filthy mouths shut!’ His demonic form began manifesting as his anger grew. ‘You dare lay your hands on someone I care about!?’

The men were no longer tough bullies, but now reduced to a quivering mass with their backs to the wall as Lucifer stalked forwards.

A smirk appeared on his face as he narrowed his eyes at the men.

‘What do you say I give a demonstration of how Hell got it’s reputation?’

Screams echoed from the alley. People knew better than to intervene.

Lucifer returned home not much later, making a bee line for your room straight away.

He was about to knock on your door, when he heard faint crying coming from the other side.

He looked down remorsefully. Maybe he shouldn’t have left you alone. He composed himself and knocked. The sobs went quiet and he heard a meek, ‘come in.’

As he entered, he noticed you’d changed from your maid outfit and now wore your pyjamas and dressing gown.

‘Hey Y/N, you feeling any better?’ He came to sit next to you with a comforting smile.

‘I guess so...’ You replied, though the defeated look was still evident on your face.

‘Well golly! I have something to turn that frown upside down!’ You were startled by his sudden energetic proclamation. ‘Ta-da!’ He pulled a small duck from his coat pocket and proudly presented it to you.

You looked over the duck, which had obviously been made to resemble you by giving it some of your features.

As you looked at the little yellow duck, something inside of you snapped. Without warning, you batted the duck from his hand and jumped up in a fury, scowl painted across your face.

‘Why are you acting like you care about me!?’ Lucifer jumped up as if you’d burnt him, his hands out in front of him as a peaceful gesture. He was stunned at your sudden outburst.

‘Y/N, I don’t thi-‘

‘Don’t try and lie to me! Nobody’s ever cared about me!’ You cut him off. You were getting more irate as you broke down into hysterics again.

Lucifer didn’t know what to say. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t find the words to speak.

When he didn’t answer, it only made you more angry.

‘What do you want from me!?’ You screamed at him, tears flowing down your face. ‘Is it sex? Is that what you want from me, just like everyone else!?’

Lucifer audible gasped at your outburst and took a step back to show he meant no harm.

‘Whoa kid! I don’t want anything from you! Especially not...’ Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to say it. Everything began to fall into place for him now. So that’s what you had to do back on Earth.

He was angry that you accused him of being that disgusting, but not at you. He could never hate you. He was angry that there were people on Earth that thought it was ok to take advantage of a child like that.

You froze in place. The way he was keeping his distance, the way he was making himself look small so as to not intimidate you... Then there was his eyes. They were sad.

They bore into you, as if he were pleading with you to believe him. He wasn’t lying.

Your eyes stung with tears and your face heated up as you looked away, embarrassed by your outburst.

Lucifer wanted to comfort you, but he also didn’t want to spook you, so you needed to make the first move.

You mumbled something under your breath he couldn’t quite hear.

‘I uh, didn’t catch that...’ You squinted your eyes and let out a shaky breath, as if hyping yourself up to repeat what you had said.

You looked him dead in the eye, face hard as you repeated yourself.

‘I said I wish I were your daughter! My life would have been so much better.’

Lucifer was gobsmacked. He really hadn’t been expecting that. When he really thought about it he realised he shouldn’t be that surprised at all. He knew you had to have a rough life, and with how welcoming and caring he’d been to you, he should have know something like this would manifest.

The more Lucifer thought it over, the bigger his hear swelled. You thought so highly of him, that you wanted him to be your dad, or fatherly figure at least.

It seemed that Lucifer took a few moments too many to digest this information, as you turned away from him abruptly. He could see you shaking.

‘I’m sorry....’ You whispered.

Lucifer was snapped back to reality by your voice. You were clearly still upset, but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading  across his face.

He made his way over to you and gingerly placed a hand on your shoulder, so as to not startle you, but you still flinched at the contact.

‘Y/N... You’ve nothing to be sorry for.’ Lucifer spoke so softly that it took you off guard. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was smiling.

‘It wasn’t till recently that I repaired my relationship with Charlie.’ You were rooted to the spot as you listened intently to what he was saying. ‘ I wasn’t there for a long time, and I truly regret how much time I missed with her.’ Your face was cast down as you hung onto every word.

You felt so stupid bringing this up. He already had a daughter that he loved, so you would just get in the way. Maybe this was his way of letting you down gently.

Lucifer moved to stand next to you, with his arm now across your shoulders. As you looked up to him, you were stunned to see him smiling. You almost passed out at his next words.

‘But maybe I can be there for you.’ More tears started to stream down your face, but this time they were tears of joy. For the first time in a long time, you felt truly happy.

Flinging your arms round his torso, you buried your head into his chest as you clung to him for dear life.

Lucifer happily returned your embrace and lay his head a top yours.

‘I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner.’ He soothed as he stroked the top of your head. You pulled back and looked up to him with a slight laugh.

‘You mean I should have died sooner?’ Lucifer cringed and pulled away, playfully throwing his hands up in the air.

‘Well of course it’s gonna sound morbid if you say it like that!’ You both laughed together and you wiped the tears from under your eyes.

Something caught Lucifer’s eye from across the room. It was the small duck he’d previously offered you.

You watched without a word as he retrieved the gift. He stood before you and offered it once again with a wide grin. This time you gratefully accepted.

Cupping your hands round the small toy, you held it up next to your face.

‘Great likeness.’ You joked and Lucifer snorted out in laughter.

‘I’m glad you like it! You know when you knocked it away, I thought you were highly offended with how I portrayed you, so good to know that’s not the case!’ He teased and gae you a thumbs up.

‘Thank you.’

‘Well.’ Lucifer spun round, making his way to the door before pausing to speak over his shoulder. ‘Thanks to todays surprising turn of events, I need to hire a new maid.’ He paused for a moment before turning back round to fully face you. ‘Can’t have my honorary daughter run ragged , now can I?’

Later that night after both of you had taken some much needed time to calm down, Lucifer had made you sit at the dining table, whilst he served you for a change. Once you were both settled, he took the opportunity to press you a little.

‘So did you ever reach out to Charlie like I said a while ago?’ You chuckled nervously and rubbed at the back of your neck.

  ‘I didn’t really think it would be appropriate.’

‘Ah come one now, I was the one who bought it up! Plus I think it would be good for you.’

‘How so?’ You titled your had curiously and Lucifer sank back into his chair with a breathy laugh.

‘Charlie showers literally everyone she meets with love, and she’ll introduce you to loads of new friends.’

‘But-‘ You stopped yourself, really thinking weather or not you should even ask. ‘Will she even want to meet me?’ Lucifer’s face softened into a warm smile. He knew exactly what you were thinking. You were scared that Charlie would want nothing to do with you, considering the way you saw him now.

He sat up and reached over, giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze.

‘I grantee it.’

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #imagine #one shot #reaction #drabble #headcannon #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #charlie #alastor #husk #angel #adam #teen!reader #platonic

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ²

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥...

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: whispers all around the marine ship warn of a new cadet handpicked by the vice admiral himself, making for fine gossip. meanwhile, the strawhat crew wonders why their captain is so frustrated with a storybook.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: opla!luffy x gn!reader, koby x platonic!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: use of Y/N, gender neutral reader, angst, platonic fluff, koby and reader team up of the century

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤: this is me trying

series masterlist

Koby really wanted Helmeppo to shut up, but didn’t have the heart to say it. So he let his new friend rattle on and on whilst they were meant to be getting important work done mopping the deck.

Though Koby did admit, the hushed whispers around the ship of a new cadet were intriguing. And apparently, Helmeppo knew all about the new recruit.

“New?” Helmeppo laughed. “They’re far from new. Been at this for a matter of months and already they’re at the top.”

“How come?” Koby couldn’t help but ask, leaning slightly on his mop. “Experience?”

“Probably,” Helmeppo considered, turning secretive the next moment. “I hear they grew up with Garp, learned all they know from him and their father, who also happens to be a major.”

No wonder there was so much praise for this cadet. “And they’re really that good?”

Helmeppo nodded through a sigh. “So they say. Apparently, they’ve been assigned to this ship by Garp himself. No big surprise there. If this cadet is as fierce as they claim, we’ve got some competition.”

Koby nodded mindlessly, getting back to swabbing the deck, trying his best to focus, but Helmeppo just moved on to the next topic of his interest. 

“Hey, do you wonder—” Helmeppo stopped short, catching sight of an approaching figure through the dark shrouding the deck. 

Glancing up, Koby saw them too, a puzzled crease forming on his brow. The figure fumbled about the dark, mumbling to themself, two buckets in hand. 

Only after nearly tripping over air and stumbling to a stop did they draw out a sigh and assess their surroundings, finding Koby and Helmeppo watching with equally curious expressions.

“Oh, uhm,” they stammered, stepping into the dim lamplight Koby had set to the side. “Hello. I’m, uh, I was sent me to help.” They set down the buckets and stepped back. “Fresh warm water, and uhm, soap.”

Koby reacted quicker than Helmeppo, who watched this stranger carefully. He went to inspect the first bucket, smiling at the sudsy water. Given that Helmeppo had knocked their bucket over and Koby could only save a quarter of the water, this was a godsend. “Thank you. This helps a lot.”

The words went straight to the stranger’s head, a smile breaking out on their face as they turned to take up a spare mop. “No problem. Anything to stay useful. That’s what my dad always says, at least. A useless soldier's a dead soldier, or something like that.”

Whatever reservations Helmeppo had faded at the prospect of another gossip buddy, prompting an eye roll from Koby as he moved to start cleaning the farther end of the deck.

“Are you new?” he asked. “I haven’t seen you before.”

“Oh, yeah,” the stranger replied. “I just transferred from that marine base we’re docked at.”

Helmeppo immediately stopped mopping and zeroed in on the stranger, like a disarming fledgling hawk to an unbothered mouse. “You would know about Y/N L/N, then. They’re being transferred to this ship too.”

There was a brief silence after the question, only long enough to have Koby cast a curious glance back at them. The stranger stopped mopping too, a thoughtful look crossing their face, before they nodded. “What about Y/N L/N?”

“So you’ve met them?” Helmeppo wondered, cutting the stranger off before they could answer. “I’m curious to see if they live up to their reputation.”

The stranger folded their hands behind their back, face quite expressionless. “Oh… What’s their reputation? From an outside perspective, I mean?”

“Only that they’re responsible for twenty arrests within the span of three months. That’s bullshit, in my opinion. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” The stranger’s undivided attention was now given to Helmeppo, and he was living for it. “Apparently, they were trained up by Vice Admiral Garp himself. I hear they’ve even had a drink with Dracule Mihawk. Can you believe that? Honestly, I’m just waiting to meet this cadet and see if they’re as cold hearted as everyone says.”

Now, Koby was smart. He had to be in order to survive. So of course he’d caught on far before Helmeppo, watching the stranger’s grip on their broom tighten and their gaze tighten into a glare. 

He rushed up behind the stranger and mimed for Helmeppo to shut up. All Koby got in return was a strange sort of look and complete ignorance. Koby ran a palm over his face.

The stranger was quiet for an everlasting moment, before they dipped their mop into a bucket and continued to do their job. “It was twenty-three.”

Helmeppo tilted his head as if to hear them better. “Sorry?”

Quite having enough of hearing what other people thought of you, you swiftly whirled back to face him with a steeled expression. “I said I took part in twenty-three arrests in three months. I was raised in the same town as Garp, so yes he trained me as a child. I’ve never met Dracule Mihawk and I’ve never had a drink with anyone.”

You jutted out your chin. “And yes, I’d say I am cold hearted when the situation requires it. Like when dealing with a ignorant, gossiping pain in my ass!”

Jaw slack, Helmeppo searched out for Koby’s assistance, only receiving a pointed glare from his friend. You mopped some more and moved to go back over the spot Helmeppo had already done. “Put some more elbow grease into it, yeah? These decks outta be spotless by morn.”

Miraculously, the deck was nothing but tranquil after that. The three of you worked in silence till just as you’d said, the deck was spotless to your satisfaction. Helmeppo retreated back to the barracks immediately, seeking to collect his pride off the floor, leaving you and Koby.

Koby was going to apologize on his friend’s behalf when he found you picking up your bucket and mop and trudging off to the afterdeck. Koby followed after you, telling you, “Oh, we don’t have to clean the afterdeck. That’s next shift’s job.”

You didn’t reply, setting the sloshing bucket down and starting to work. Koby paused. “We should sleep. We’re setting off tomorrow—”

“I’m aware,” you said carefully, without too much malice. “I know we don’t have to. I want to. I’m not tired.”

The bags under your eyes begged to differ. Koby watched you work before he hurried off, and half of you was sorry to be alone again. But then the boy came back with his own mop in hand, causing you to halt and observe as he started to join you.

“What’re you…”

“I’m Koby,” he said, holding out a hand with a scant smile. 

Glancing down, you accepted his hand and grinned. “Y/N. But you knew that.”

He grimaced. “Sorry about Helmeppo.”

Shrugging, you said, “Eh, I’m used to it.”

And you set back to mopping the night away, having the occasional laugh with Koby who did the same. Only when there was without a doubt nothing left to clean of the afterdeck, yet you continued to go back over it, did Koby stop and get in your way.

“I can see my reflection in the deck,” he tried to joke. “It’s okay to stop.”

You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. If you stopped, you had time to think. If you had time to think, you’d think of him. If you thought of Luffy, well, you’d be lost to your thoughts for the rest of the night. It was a whole cycle you couldn’t afford to go down. Not as a marine. 

Marine’s don’t have time for trivial affairs such as heartache.

But Koby was insistent, snatching your mop away from you and holding you back when you tried to get it back. He held a soft look as you glared daggers into him. “I think I understand.”

You scoffed, giving up and picking up the buckets to put away. You turned your back and headed to find the supply closet. “What exactly do you understand?”

“I... I was on a pirate ship before this,” he told you, causing you to slow enough for him to fall into step beside you. “I was forced to do things I’m not proud of. Sometimes I feel like I’ve got to make up for it.”

You cast him a glance. “I wasn’t a pirate.”

“But you’ve done something you’re not proud of,” he guessed.

Coming to a halt, you bit down on your cheek as Koby turned to face you, confusion laced in his expression. “You don’t know me, Koby. I’m proud of how I got here. That doesn’t make it easier to sleep at night.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “I understand.”

He didn’t. He couldn’t. But it was nice he tried, you supposed. “Okay.”

So he helped to put away the mops and dump out the buckets, following you back to the barracks. All the lights were off, leaving limited sight to find your way to your bunk, clambering through the dark as quietly as you could.

Koby was having a harder time, tripping over something and nearly waking the whole room. You shot him a glare and hurried to bed, hiding under the covers. The bed was hardly comfortable, and tossing and turning did nothing to provide any comfort. 

Rolling onto your back, you refrained from opening your eyes as long as you could before they pried themselves open, and you came face to face with Monkey D. Luffy. His wanted poster was pinned to the underside of the top bunk, something you had thought was a good idea at the time, but now it offered an unwanted spectator to your sleeplessness.

Still, you didn’t have the heart to take it down, pulling the thin blanket up over your head.

જ⁀➴

Nobody wanted to be the first to approach the captain, not when he was in a mood none of them had ever seen him in. If the crew was honest, it made them nervous.

“Somebody should make sure he’s okay,” said Usopp, looking around the lot of them as if to prompt one of them to step up. 

They all leaned upon the railing around the ship’s helm, eyes locked on Luffy. The boy sat cross legged on the deck, a book of all things in his lap. From the crease in his brow, he was growing increasingly frustrated.

“Not it,” Zoro quipped when he caught Nami giving him that look.

She rolled her eyes and pushed off the rail, glaring as she scathed, “Honestly.”

Taking tentative steps, Nami assessed the situation closer, not meaning to provoke whatever was going on in Luffy’s head. The book lay open to the very first page, his face a little too close to the words as he sighed every few seconds. He flipped to the next page, then the next, before gritting his teeth and going back to the first. 

Kneeling at his side, she bumped his shoulder as she settled down. “Luffy?”

“Hmm?” He barely looked up from the page, and Nami wondered if he even registered what she’d said.

“You okay?” When she didn’t get a response, she ducked forward to see what he was reading. “The Two Birds?”

Luffy snapped the book shut so fast Nami flinched, the sudden smile on his face a little bit of whiplash. “Sorry, what?”

“Luffy, what’s wrong?” she asked, concerned. “You’ve been glaring at that storybook all day.”

“Nothing,” he waved her off and tried to hide the book behind him. “Is it time to eat?”-

Nami wasn’t letting him get away from this, not when his smile was a little too bright to be real. Luffy had never been like this, and it was worrying her more than she liked to admit. “Luffy.”

Gaze flickering from each of her eyes, Luffy’s smile slowly but surely lost its enthusiasm, lips curling downward. He brought the book back to his lap, holding it ever so gently, skimming his fingertips over the cover. “It belongs to my lover.”

“Wait.” She blinked. “Lover?”

Nodding, Luffy almost smiled. “It’s their favorite book. I used to have more, but my ship sank. This is the only one I could save.”

The melancholy in how he said it gave Nami a sick kind of feeling, a million different ideas of this stranger’s fate coming to mind. She almost didn’t even ask. “What happened to them?”

“We got separated a few months ago,” he said, before giving the book a firm nod, “but I’ll find them again.”

“How do we do that?” Nami asked instantly, drawing another half smile out of Luffy as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

“Well,” Luffy laughed breathily, “it’s a bit complicated. They’re with the marines.”

They weren’t dead, which was good, Nami supposed. But this? This wasn’t what she’d expected. “Your lover is a marine?”

“Unfortunately. I couldn’t save them. But they’re strong.” His grin wavered. He thought of that sinking feeling when you remained on land, staring after him with this look he couldn't get out of his head. You'd looked like this was what you planned; him escaping, and you staying. It had been noble of you, he supposed, and he could never hate you for it.

Luffy swallowed thickly and his eyes went all misty. “They’re the strongest, kindest, truest person I know. I’ll find them, and I’ll return their book.”

Nami still couldn’t figure it out. “If they’re so good, why’re you burning a hole into their book?”

“Oh.” Luffy’s cheeks warmed at the question. “Uhm, I was trying to read it but… I got stuck. They usually read it to me.”

She should have left it at that. Really, Nami should have patted him on the back and offered to get a pre-dinner snack to cheer him up. But for some reason, Nami found herself looking at the storybook and hesitantly saying, “Can I?”

“Really?” The shine in Luffy’s eyes nearly made it worth it. 

Nami sighed and forced a smile. Only, she didn’t have to force it too much; Luffy’s quickly brightening expression warmed her from the inside out. “Sure. Hand it over.”

She’d barely laid a hand on the book when Luffy whipped his head around and shouted across the deck, “Guys! Nami’s reading a story!”

“Luffy…” she groaned, pursing her lips as Usopp jumped down the stairs, swiftly followed by Sanji and a more reluctant Zoro. 

Luffy raised a brow. “What?”

Letting out a huff, Nami simply flipped open the book. Usopp plopped down beside her, leaning in to see what book it was. 

“A story?” Zoro asked, ever unamused. Nami shut him up with one glare. 

“I personally am happy to hear Nami’s lovely voice,” Sanji piped in with a wink.

Nami gave the chef a deadpan, her head tilted. “Thanks.”

“C’mon,” Usopp urged her. “Let's see if it beats the tales of Great Captain Usopp.”

“All right, all right,” she laughed, turning to the very first page and starting to read off the story to them. 

Every once in a while Luffy would start frowning again, eyes unfocused, the words Nami read piercing his heart. It never lasted too long though, some commentary from Usopp dragging a snicker out of him. And when the story came to a close, Luffy offered his crew a grin. 

“Y/N would like you guys,” he said, raising some confusion among the men around him.

Nami tried to smile and, half to explain and half to reassure, said, “We’ll get your lover back, at some point.”

Maybe three seconds went by before all heads jolted in Luffy’s direction. 

“Lover?!”

>>

#luffy #luffy x yn #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy x y/n #one piece #one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece live action x reader #opla #opla luffy #opla x reader #opla luffy x reader #angst #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #opla koby #opla helmeppo #opla koby x reader #x platonic!reader #koby x reader

[1d1195]

Tuesday

I’m a sucker for protective Harry and exes to lovers sort of vibes.

Harry forgot that after they broke up he started sleeping on the side she did...for a while it smelled like her and as good as the break up was, he missed her and longed for her. Sleeping on her side made him feel closer to her. After a while, he forgot it wasn’t where he usually slept.

She was sitting in the coffee shop looking at her phone. Scrolling through the contacts was making her more anxious. It wasn’t super late—only nine. But it was dark out in the dead of winter and on Tuesday no less. She had class in the morning, and she didn’t want to bother anyone because she knew they had classes in the morning too.

When she closed this evening, she got a weird vibe from the guy hovering in the corner of the shop who kept asking her when she got off her shift and if she wanted to hang out afterwards. At the time she wasn’t alone, but she assured her coworker she would be fine—and was now regretting it. Something in the pit of her stomach was making her nervous. She didn’t want to go outside to her car, but it seemed a little dramatic.

So, she was scrolling through her (admittedly, not so very many) contacts deciding mentally if anyone was close enough that she was willing to bother. She was scrolling her way back to the top after her initial run through getting increasingly nervous as she crept back toward the A’s. If she made it back to the top, she wasn’t sure what she’d do at that point.

But it was the H’s that caught her attention.

“Fuck,” she whispered to literally no one but herself. Putting her hand on her forehead, she sighed. She didn’t want to call him. It had been two years since she last spoke to him. The chances of him even inhabiting the same apartment, a mere five-minute drive away, let alone the same town after he graduated and got a real job were slim to none. Plus, the idea he would answer her phone call at nine on a Tuesday night seemed downright laughable.

Honestly though, he was her only hope.

Biting her lip, she clicked on his name. It almost felt foreign. But something deep within her found it felt so familiar it was impossible to not feel at ease just listening to the sound of the phone ringing knowing he would be at the other end (if he would answer).

“Hello?” He asked. His voice sounded confused. She wasn’t surprised at his tone. It was insane for her to call him.

“Harry,” she said simply.

“Uh...hi, love,” it sounded loud wherever he was. She should have known Harry would be with people and living his life.

“Hi,” she said softly.

It was quiet for a moment other than the sound of whatever Harry was doing in the background. She thought about the last time they spoke. It had to have been right about when things ended. It wasn’t a bad breakup, but they didn’t really stay in touch. She saw pictures and updates on social media but Harry wasn’t all that active. She had no way of knowing a whole lot about his personal life—if he was seeing anyone...or anything like that.

“Love?” He said and the noise seemed to fade in the background of his concerned voice. “Y’okay?” He asked.

“Um...” she shook her head trying to remain focused and remember why she called her ex-boyfriend. “Er...yeah. M’fine...it’s just...” she sighed. “M’sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I’m just...I’m at work and...well I’m trying to leave but there was this guy and I got a weird feeling. But it’s stupid...and I just...there’s no one I know nearby, and I thought if you were still at your place close by then...” she shook her head hearing how ridiculous this all sounded. Bothering Harry on a Tuesday night for something that might not even happen. Her heart was fluttering. This was ridiculous. “Harry, I’m so sorry. This was a stupid phone call. There’s nothing wrong. I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll be fine,” she said firmly gathering her belongings in her arms and steeling herself for the cold walk outside to her car.

“Oh...hey...” he frowned as he held the phone to his ear. “S’alright love. You’re not a bother,” he promised. “Are...are you inside still?” He asked. She could hear a flurry of movement on his end. There was a rustling of keys, and a few calls in the distance were yelled but she couldn’t make out the words.

“Yeah...but really, it’s fine. It’s late and I’m being ridiculous. I’m just going to—”

“M’still nearby,” he said quickly interrupting her. “Jus’...wait five minutes. I’ll be right there.”

For a moment she stilled and silenced her rationale and the convoluted reasoning in her head. “Really?” She asked, feeling relief course through her body. She didn’t even realize how stressed she was about the situation. The brave front for Harry slowly seemed to dissipate. There was no way she could know that Harry also recognized the worry in her voice.

“’Course, love,” he said easily. They were both quiet for a moment and she could hear the jingling of Harry’s keys, the unlocking of his car. “D’you want me t’stay on the phone with you?” He wondered.

She nodded, feeling comforted by Harry just breathing. Someone was coming to her rescue, even if she was being ridiculous. She didn’t even realize she nodded. But Harry didn’t get off the phone despite not knowing her answer. It was weird to be so content with Harry silently coming to her. With her eyes closed, she could almost picture Harry’s route. Hearing his blinker, the sound of the road...it was almost too much for her. Him just coming to her without so much as a real reason—just a feeling—was heartwarming. It made her miss him all over again.

When they dated, Harry was nothing less than perfect. He did everything with the utmost respect and chivalry. He was an amazing boyfriend and she adored him more than any other boyfriend she ever had. It broke her heart when they ended their relationship, truly. She reminded herself it wasn’t a bad break up. It was mature. They grew apart and Harry graduated, and things were ending. But she was still in school. Granted, now she was on the last of her classes and graduating the coming spring. Harry was out in the real world these last two years being perfect for whoever he worked for and for whoever he was dating.

“Hey love?” He asked gently. Her thoughts pulled back to the present. “M’parking right now. M’gonna come to the front, yeah? I’ll knock, okay?”

She nodded again, making her way from the back of the shop toward the front door. She could see Harry, phone pressed to his ear, looking just as she remembered him. Tall, lanky, and handsome as could be. Always. If she wasn’t so nervous, she would have ogled him for longer. She unlocked the door and let Harry in. “Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi,” he replied. “You alright, love?” He asked.

She nodded. “Yeah,” she didn’t sound alright, though.

He glanced out the doorway and his brow creased in the middle. He looked highly annoyed. “M’glad you called,” he said quietly.

“Thank you,” her voice was so small and quiet. She looked nervously through the front window seeing Harry’s car closest to the shop. “Would you mind walking me to my car?”

He nodded. “Course, love,” he promised easily.

“You really didn’t have to come,” she said. It was a phrase that sounded like she should be annoyed—even though she was the one that asked him here, in so many words. But Harry knew her. He knew she wasn’t annoyed. He knew she was scared and didn’t want to be a bother. She was annoyed that she bothered him, if anything.

He shook his head. “Nonsense, love. Don’t mind at all,” he kept glancing out the window then he turned his attention back to her. “M’gonna...” he rolled his lips into his mouth and then sighed. “Kitten, m’gonna hold you, alright?” He said softly. She glanced out the window again, trying to see around Harry, but he stepped in her view. It wasn’t good. He must have been out there. A shiver ran up her back and she let out a small, nervous noise that came from deep in her soul. “Don’t worry,” he shook his head quickly and kept her from seeing. He took her bag off her shoulder and put it on his own. She had her keys in her hand and she swallowed. “M’here,” he promised. “M’not going anywhere.”

*

Harry wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing his side fully to hers as they walked toward his car parked right next to hers. They were silent except for Harry quietly whispering directions toward her. “Are you alright t’drive?” She nodded silently. Harry opened her driver’s door. He waited for her to sit, and he physically blocked her view outside the door. “Are y’sure y’can drive?” She nodded. “Are y’still at the same place?” She nodded again.

Harry reached past her to settle her bag on her passenger seat.

“Love?” He questioned again. He was hesitant to ask his next question but the way she looked so nervous and scared had him reeling.

It also didn’t help there was a creep a mere 30 meters away from them waiting for her like she was bait. She turned to look at him, her breath shaky, her hands kept shaking too as they reached for her steering wheel.

“Y-yeah?”

“I want you t’come t’my place, yeah?”

She felt scared so she just nodded. “Okay.”

“Kitten, m’not gonna let anything happen t’you, okay? I promise.”

“Okay,” she nodded again but it felt a lot more right this time.

Pressing the lock button on her door, he gave her arm a gentle squeeze as she turned her car on. “M’gonna follow you so wait until m’in the car,” he said softly. She nodded once more.

*

Harry was fuming about all of it. Seeing her name pop up on his phone made him confused and worried. But nothing prepared him for the feeling of helplessness and worry he actually felt when he went to the coffee shop and saw her car and a one other car waiting for her to exit work. He hadn’t spoken to her in two years, but he didn’t want to think about what he would do if he found out something terrible happened to her. As he started his car looking toward her waiting to go Harry waved to her to indicate he was good to go.

Harry would murder him if he followed them.

Harry spoke to his phone. “Call Niall.”

The phone rang twice before he answered. “Harry, where did y’go?” Niall asked curiously.

“Everyone needs to leave,” Harry said.

“Harry, what are—”

“I don’t care what y’tell them, everyone needs t’be gone in the next three minutes.”

“Harry—”

“Niall! Jus’ get them out!”

“Okay, okay,” Niall said with a tone of defensiveness in his voice. “I’ll get them out.”

“Thank you, I’ll explain when I get there.”

Harry glanced in his rearview mirror and didn’t see anyone following him. But now Harry was paranoid, and he wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He called her again. “Hello?” She asked tentatively.

“Hey love. When y’park, I don’t want y’to get out. I’ll come around t’you, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “Harry?” She whispered.

“Yeah, love?”

“Thank you,” the gratefulness was so thick on her voice Harry could have cried. What if he didn’t see her call? Or what if he decided not to answer? He was worried about things that weren’t but the idea of something happening to her made him feel sick.

“M’really glad you called,” he promised.

She didn’t say anything again. He felt so bad she was so nervous and worked up. She wasn’t one to need saving. She usually did most of the saving her friend group. She was the one with an extra hair tie or a stain stick at restaurants. She never let anyone be hungry or thirsty. If someone didn’t have medicine handy, they could ask her. She was the one that did the saving. She wasn’t the one that needed it. Rarely did she ever ask for help. Asking Harry was not only huge for her, but it meant she really needed it.

When she started downplaying how nervous she was on the phone, Harry thought how terrifying it was that she never needed anyone. Especially for a situation like this. He thought for two seconds what would have happened if her instincts were right, if Harry did ignore her worries, or if she convinced him that she was alright.

Harry quickly brushed those thoughts aside. “Do y’want me t’stay on the phone?” He asked her this earlier. Just like before there was no answer, but he knew she nodded. So, he stayed quietly on the phone listening to her breathing, the sound of her directional, and the road.

There were several cars passing as they pulled up toward Harry and Niall’s place. Harry was grateful Niall got everyone out. “Okay, love, stay put,” he said hanging up as he hurried out of his parked car to her driver’s seat.

Niall was standing on the front stoop waiting to see what Harry was so worked up about. When Harry opened the driver’s door and ushered her out Niall finally understood. “Must have skipped my last eye appointment, is that you princess?” Niall said cheerfully and hurried to give her a hug. It was a bit awkward though because Harry wouldn’t release one of her hands.

“D’you need anything else?” He asked ignoring Niall’s greeting.

“Uh...there’s a bag in my trunk,” she said softly. “I can get it in a minute—” Harry finally released her hand and headed back for her car.

“What brings you here this evening?” Niall asked.

“Oh...uh...” she swallowed. “It was nothing really,” she said shyly. Niall glanced at Harry’s embittered expression. He could see it halfway across their yard while she looked at the ground before looking back at Niall. “I actually think I overreacted and I didn’t know who else to call—”

“She did not overreact,” Harry said simply closing her car up and then coming to her to put a hand on her lower back. He ushered her toward the door. “She’s gonna stay tonight,” Harry told Niall.

Niall blinked then raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What about—”

“No,” he said simply, shaking his head and pushing her more toward the front.

“Harry, that’s not necessary...I think I can—”

“No,” he repeated.

There wasn’t room to argue.

*

She said goodnight to Niall and Harry continued ushering her into his room. It was the same as before except he moved the bed to the middle of the wall and changed the position of the dresser and the desk in his room. “D’you have clothes or d’you need clothes?”

“I don’t have uh...clothes to wear to bed—”

“Here,” he said quickly and opened the drawer. “Think y’left these here,” he said handing her a pair of leggings that she had lost years ago. It made her feel confused that he kept them folded neatly in a drawer readily available. She wondered if he let other women wear them. She honestly didn’t care. She was glad they were getting some use.

Harry assumed she was questioning the fact he kept her leggings in a drawer folded neatly. He offered them to a girl staying over every now and again. Gem even wore them on occasion. Harry didn’t need to read her mind, to know she was probably happy to help some stranger when they were over and needed something comfy to sleep in. “And y’can wear this,” he said and tossed her a long sleeve shirt that had a logo on it she hadn’t seen before.

“What’s this?” She asked curiously looking at the logo. It wasn’t really the time, but she was potentially in shock and Harry wasn’t going to let that happen, so he just answered her.

“The company I work for,” he shrugged and pulled his shirt over her head.

She dated Harry for two years, so she was used to seeing Harry naked. But not seeing him for two years and for him to casually pull his shirt over his head...well, she missed seeing him. “You got new tattoos,” she said suddenly.

Harry smirked for the first time all night and he paused with his arms in his shirt, but he held off on tugging the shirt over his head. “Uh...jus’ a few,” he said quietly. “One for m’godson, another one for Gem, one ‘cause I drank a little too much one night,” he said shyly.

Harry looked at her gentle smile and thought he would melt. She was all stressed and worked up and so was Harry, but she was beautiful. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. If Harry wasn’t so nervous about her safety, he would have reveled a bit longer in how much he missed her voice and suddenly hearing it woke some part of him that he thought was long gone. The part of him that was hers.

Harry opened the door again. “Hey Ni,” he called. “You still do her skincare routine?”

She let out a huffed little laugh thinking about the night she showed Niall and Harry all the steps to having a clean face before bed making sure to prevent wrinkles and damage to the only skin they had. Harry thought it was too many steps, but Niall was smitten with the routine and asked her no less than fifty questions about what he needed to do to have baby soft skin. Harry was grateful now that it was going to pay in tenfold, because he could make her feel at home and have Niall comfort her for a few moments while he fixed up his room. “Yeah! Princess, you want to share?” He called.

Harry looked at her and then opened the door wider. “All yours,” he said softly.

She took the borrowed clothes and nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered again.

Harry watched her walk to the shared bathroom and Niall followed in behind her to show where he kept everything, but he caught Harry’s eye as he entered quirking one eyebrow at him. Harry shook his head and left the pair to their spa treatment.

Harry’s phone vibrated as he propped up the pillows and got a few more blankets for the sweet girl from his closet. For someone that always ran much too hot, she always wanted more blankets to sleep in at night. He was planning on offering to sleep on the floor or the couch, but he knew she would deny it immediately and probably offer to do it herself. Of course, Harry wasn’t about to let that happen so they would have to settle for sharing. He glanced at the name on his phone and sighed.

Do you want me to come over? Harry felt guilty but he shouldn’t have. It was an arrangement they had agreed upon, and they both knew it.

Not tonight.

Oh. Okay.

Sorry.

No, it’s fine. Just surprised. Everything alright?

Yeah.

Okay.

Harry stopped answering. She deserved more...and if Harry had a little bit better self-esteem maybe he would realize he deserved more too.

There was a knock outside his room. “Y’don’t need t’knock, kitten,” he said with an eye roll as he pulled the covers back for the two of them. Harry heard his door click shut.

“Well...it’s sort of ridiculous that I’m even here, and I feel bad intruding and making you even—”

“Love,” he said turning toward her. She was in his shirt and her leggings now. She settled the clothes she was wearing with her stuff, and she looked toward Harry with so much trust in her eyes Harry wanted to cry. He was so thankful she called him. So thankful she trusted her gut and glad he could help her. “I am so glad y’called me,” he said softly. “You’re not intruding or anything,” he promised. “M’glad you’re here.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “Thank you,” she repeated again.

Harry gestured to the bed. “I was gonna offer t’sleep on the floor or the couch—”

“Absolutely not.”

He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “—But I already knew y’wouldn’t care for that, and I won’t let y’do that either so...” he said and gestured to the bed again.

She couldn’t argue with him so she grabbed her bag and pulled it toward the side of the bed she was used to sleeping on. However, Harry forgot that after they broke up he started sleeping on the side she did...for a while it smelled like her and as good as the break up was, he missed her and longed for her. Sleeping on her side made him feel closer to her. After a while, he forgot it wasn’t where he usually slept. But for tonight, he would have to go back to his side. Harry settled into his bed, pulling the blankets up over him as he scrolled on his phone. It was eerie how comfortable they could get into a routine that was very much the same as the one they used to have.

“Do you mind if I just...finish my essay really quick?” She asked softly.

“Take your time, love,” he nodded easily. “How is school?” He inquired.

She nodded. Harry watched her as she pulled her laptop from her bag and opened it. “It’s good. I’m almost done...I have an internship a couple days a week and they’ve offered me a job when I officially graduate.”

“Kitten, that’s awesome,” he smiled. “Congratulations,” it was so heartfelt it made her stomach flutter.

“How is this place?” She asked, pointing to the logo on her shirt. “Have you been there this whole time?”

“Yeah, I have. It’s a great place. I like it. It’s quiet. I get t’keep t’myself mostly. M’told I’m better than the last guy they had,” Harry chuckled.

She smiled and nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

Harry felt his face warm. “What are you working on now?” He wondered.

“It’s for my history of psychology class,” she said. Harry was always dumbfounded she wanted to be a psychologist but rarely looked at how her own behavior was maddening every now and again. Like tonight when she was willingly about to put her life in danger for some creep because she didn’t want to bother Harry. “Just relating different philosophies to a disorder over time and how the founders of these philosophies would have approached it.”

“Cool,” Harry smiled. “Do you like it still?”

“Very much,” she nodded. “Except,” she sighed. “This keeps happening,” she showed him her computer. “I’m sorry,” she said. She hated asking Harry about tech. It never bothered him. He was happy to help her, and he gave her tips to better the lifespan of her devices. She knew he would probably still look at it for her, even after all these years.

He tilted his head and sat up more and looked at the blue crash screen analyzing the codes it presented. “Hold on,” he mumbled turning into his IT self and googling the code from his phone. “How often does it do this?”

“Err...like once a day.”

“Kitten,” he admonished. She knew better than that after all of his tips and tricks. “May I?” He asked. She handed it to him.

“I can’t really afford a new laptop right now. My dad said he would get me one when I graduated in a month,” she shrugged.

“How is your family?” He asked while he fiddled with her computer.

“Good,” she nodded. “How’s yours?”

“They’re good. Gemma visits frequently,” he smirked.

“That’s nice, tell her I said hello.”

He was busy clicking through her screens and checking settings on her computers that she didn’t know existed. “Y’should really clean this,” he murmured.

“Er...m’not sure how...you always did it for me,” she reminded him.

He chuckled. “Fair enough, I can do it in the morning if y’have time.”

“I have class at eight,” she told him.

He shrugged. “S’okay...m’usually up at five.”

“Five?” She asked in surprise. “Harry, it’s so late, you should be asleep,” she said with concern in her voice.

He shrugged. “S’okay. Niall and I usually have movie night with friends on Tuesdays,” he said. “S’pretty early t’be in bed right now, on a regular Tuesday night, for me.”

“I interrupted movie night?” She asked quietly.

“That’s what y’took from that?” He smirked.

She was silent for a few moments. “He was out there, wasn’t he? Waiting for me?” She whispered.

Harry didn’t want to answer her question. “Yes.” She nodded and swallowed around a lump in her throat. Biting the inside of her cheek she looked at her hands while Harry took his gaze from her computer to look back at her. “Kitten,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

“What if you couldn’t have—”

“Love, don’t. I was there. S’okay,” he promised.

“But you might not have been able to...and you shouldn’t have—”

“Baby,” he said softly and put her laptop on the floor beside him. He turned to face her, and he reached for her cheek. He rubbed his thumb over her soft skin. He could feel her melting into the touch and it reminded him of every time he ever touched her and how much he missed that. They were so different now. Older, wiser. Harry still adored her so very much, seeing her name was the first time he thought of her in months and months. Hearing her voice was like hearing a song he forgot about, and it sounded like hearing it for the first time and it sounded so much like angels he was wondering if tripped down the steps of his house and died. Touching her, even if he felt she was in danger, was like magic. It changed something in him. It was familiar and new and all at once. Holding her was warmth and light, something he had forgotten about until that moment. Even in a situation he didn’t want to be in. “I would do anything for you.”

“Still?” She asked with a snort before she could stop it.

Harry rolled his eyes. He brushed his thumb over her cheek again; he would do it all night rather than sleep and then work a full week. If this was the last time he saw her, touched her, smelled her, he would do it for just another minute. “If y’need me, love...that’s...a big deal. Yeah...I would do anything for you.”

“We’re not even together,” she whispered. “Actually...I think you have a girlfriend.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he shook his head.

“You’re seeing someone?”

He sighed. “Kitten, I don’t care about anyone but you, right now.”

“I can’t in good conscience—”

“Love, m’not seeing anyone. That’s it,” he said with a touch of frustration in his voice. She was quiet another moment.

“Harry?” She whispered.

“What, kitten?”

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“Oh, love,” he cooed and pulled her toward him. She started to cry and Harry held her against his chest and while he hated the way her tears soaked his shirt, he was so glad he was there to comfort her.

*

She was anxiously walking into the coffee shop the next day. She knew the chances of him being there again after he was clearly rejected were slim. It didn’t quell her nerves though, as she walked into the shop.

As she settled her things in the back and came to the front to clock in on the register and begin taking orders, she finally noticed the curly brunet locks cozied up in the corner of the shop in an armchair with a book in hand and computer bag at his feet. She blinked. Doing a double take between the customer waiting to place his order and Harry, sitting quietly in the corner, focused on his book and unaware it seemed that she was at work.

As she made the drink requested, she looked at Harry and then her coworker. “Did you see Harry come in?” She asked.

She glanced over at the corner. “Yes.”

There was no more discussion.

*

At the end of her shift, she went over to Harry in the corner halfway through his book. “Why are you here?”

“I told you I’d do anything for you, love,” he said gently, earmarking his page and closing the book. “Ready t’go?”

She bit her lip and nodded. He stood up, gathering his things and headed for the door.

*

When Harry came to her shifts over the next week, she thought that this was over the top. He didn’t say anything, didn’t offer any explanation, he was just there. When they left he tucked her neatly into her car and followed her home before she entered her apartment and waved goodbye from the front entrance.

On Sunday, she anticipated seeing Harry in the corner at some point in her morning shift, but instead she was slightly disappointed by not seeing him. She got used to seeing him and more than that wanted to see him.

So when she got into her car and locked her doors before she pulled her phone out.

“’Lo?”

“Are you mad at me?” She asked.

“Kitten?” He responded. It sounded like he was suddenly awake out of nowhere.

“You didn’t come to—”

“Are y’alright? Did he come back?”

“No!” She shook her head as she answered hurriedly. “I’m fine...I just...”

“Love, m’sorry. I...I had something t’do this morning, I figured—”

All at once she felt like the biggest idiot in the world. “Oh my God,” she whispered and covered her eyes. Thank God she didn’t video chat Harry. Thank God she was alone in her car and no one could see the bright red cheeks she was sporting. “Oh my God. Harry. I’m so sorry. I...oh my God,” she shook her head.

Hearing her worried tone, Harry hurried away from his morning plans. “Angel, are you okay?” He repeated. “I can come be there in ten minutes, love. M’worried that—"

“No, m’fine. Really. Please this is mortifying. You're very obviously with someone...and...I’m fine,” she told him. “I feel like—”

"Love, m'not with anyone. Haven't been since we started talking again. Kitten, I want t’see y’too,” he promised. “I’ll be home in ‘bout an hour. Does that work for you?” She nodded, feeling ridiculous as ever. Harry couldn’t see her nodding. But he knew she was. “An hour,” he promised. “I’ll see you then, love.”

*

She felt stupid once more as she pulled up to Harry’s place and noted Niall’s car wasn’t there, fortunately. At the very least her humiliation would remain just between herself and Harry. Harry met her in the yard almost as soon as he saw her pull up. “I was worried y’were lying,” he admitted and stuffed his hands in his pockets looking at her as she walked toward him.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” she promised crossing her arms in front of her.

“Good,” he smiled gently. “Then...is everything alright?”

“I missed you,” she whispered quietly.

“Yeah?” He murmured.

“Yeah,” she nodded not making eye contact.

Harry tilted her chin up and rubbed the pad of his thumb over her lip. “I missed you more,” he said so cutely she could have turned into a puddle of love and mush on his front yard.

“Yeah?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded and smiled at her. It was so adorable, so utterly Harry, and made her want to throw herself at him and never let him go.

So she did.

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[taintandviolent]

Like Right Now? ; Peter Maximoff x Reader

summary: Part 2 of this fic! Peter waited as long as he could - which wasn't very long. He wants round 2 and you do too. Like.... right now.

word count: 3.3K words!

w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, couch sex, sex while parent is in the same vicinity dry humping, kissing, neck kissing.

a/n: not beta-read. by popular request... aaaah I'm still as nervous as I was posting the first part of this! anyway, I hope it's good and satisfies the peter craving! as always, sorry for any clunky weirdo writing!!!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

With a contented sigh, you opened the door to the house you shared with your mother. Even though you were technically an adult now, you had decided to stay with her, helping her around the house. A child of divorce, you’d always been a little overprotective of her, and couldn’t imagine her alone. 

“Did you have a good skate, honey?” Your mother asked, watching from the living room as you hung your skates on the hook by the door. With your thumb, you furiously rubbed off a scuff mark off the shiny surface and nodded. Boy, did you. Best skate you’d ever had. Using your heels to slip your sneakers off, and kicking them towards the rest of the shoes, you laughed. “Yeah, I went real fast tonight and–” 

The phone interrupted your next words, ringing shrilly. You practically stumbled towards it, reaching out for it like a parched man reaches for water. Your insides wound themselves in knots, just knowing that it was Peter on the other end. 

“H-hello?” 

“Hey cutie.” He’d waited. As long as he could without losin’ his ever loving mind. Which, he wondered if he already had, considering how bad he was aching to hear your voice again. Maybe he’d already lost it. 

“Hi,” you hummed, turning away from your mother. You brought your tone lower, hushed. 

“Did you just get home?” 

“Yeah, Peter, I did.” 

“Dang, slow poke. I’ve been home for a while.” 

“Okay, well,” you laughed. “That’s not fair.”

“When do we get to uh… hang out again? Huh? I’m already jonesin’ to see you again. With or without skates.” Peter adjusted the phone against his ear, waiting. 

You peeked around the corner. Your mother was busy with her program, no longer paying attention to your conversation, likely assuming that it was just one of your girlfriends. How wrong she was… 

“Hang out? Is that what we did?” 

“Yea’, er… somethin’ like that.” 

“Whenever you want.” 

“Aw, man, don’t say that…” 

“Why not?” You ducked around the corner and plopped down on the third step of the staircase, winding the cord around your fingers. You knew why. You heard the way that Peter’s breath hitched in his throat, even through the phone. 

“Like… now?” 

“...Right now?” You asked back, almost in a teasing tone. “Like right now?”

“Yeah!” His tone was bright and excited, and it sounded like he was already out of breath.

“My house?” The suggestion was brave, but you knew your mom would be going to sleep within the half-hour. If you stayed quiet, she wouldn’t hear you over her bedroom TV. 

“Yeah! I mean…” He cleared his throat, trying to act casual. Way more casualness was needed - he was acting super lame and way too into you. Maybe you liked that. Maybe you didn’t. He couldn’t risk it. “Sure. If you want.” 

You began whispering your address, your eyes flitting to the living room. Your mother rose from the chair and went to the kitchen, none the wiser. You continued, knowing Peter had already committed it to memory. Your mother leaned down to cup your face as she went up the stairs and mouthed goodnight, and you covered the receiver with your hand.

“Night, mom. Love you.” 

“Be there in a flash.” You heard him say. 

You wanted to tell him to wait, but the line was already dead. As you moved, your hands shook and fumbled the receiver, dropping it once before getting it back on its cradle. Your mother had hardly gotten up the steps, and he’d be there any second, if he wasn’t already. You heard the door click shut and heaved a sigh of relief. 

“Mom?” You said, testingly. She didn’t respond, so you launched your body up the carpeted stairs, running up them like a four-legged animal. Her door was shut, nothing but the dull glow of her bedside table seeping through the crack at the bottom of the door. You raced back down the stairs, your socks padding quietly down them, despite the speed.

Your bedroom was down the hall, past the kitchen. You’d never been gladder to be on the bottom floor. You crept into your room, edging the door shut until the latch clicked into place and as it did, paused to laugh at yourself; you were doing everything so sneakily, as though you were a child acting out. You were a grown woman, albeit still in your mom’s house, but the point remained. Pushing aside the curtains, you carefully maneuvered the window up. It was a warm summer evening, there was no reason why you wouldn't open your window - perfectly normal, if your mother heard it. You stuck your head out. No Peter. Surely, he’d have been here by now. You breathed, looking at the base of the tree outside your window. A squirrel skittered up into the branches. Just as you were about to pull your head back inside, Peter’s head comically poked out from the corner of the house. He had clearly been standing by the front door, which horrified you.

“Took so long, I was about to knock – .”

You shushed him, and whispered harshly for him to get inside. He stuck one leg in, climbing in carefully – the last thing he needed was to be a total klutz and eat it on your bedroom floor.

“You’re crazy, you know that? The front door!?” 

“Cool your jets, babe. You didn’t tell me which window was yours. Where’s your mom?” 

“Upstairs, hopefully sleeping.” 

“Good,” he murmured into your lips, suddenly in front of you. He’d caught you off guard with his speed, but like everything he’d done from the moment he’d complimented your skates, he was so frustratingly cute. The kiss was warm and soft, you were in no position to resist it. He kissed you back towards the bed, his hands cupping your breasts, thumb tweaking your nipples over your shirt. Which reminded you… you were still in your skating clothes. There was far too much fabric in between his thumb and your nipple. 

“Lemme’,” you murmured sloppily into his lips, before finally pulling back. “Lemme’ change first, okay? It’ll look less suspicious. Who needs to cool their jets, huh?” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Hands up, Peter took a step back, watching you as you sauntered off towards your small closet. Your hips swayed back and forth to a song that wasn’t playing. Probably something you’d heard at the skating rink. You could admit it, you were putting on a bit of a show in hopes of arousing him. 

Still though, you hurried, sliding the doors open and pulling your shirt over your head. You reached around and undid your bra, glancing back at him cheekily. Woah, jackpot… he thought, hoping, that at that point, he wasn’t drooling like a cartoon dog. He was watching you intently, a crooked grin plastered on his face. Neck turned, you held his gaze, daring him to look as you slid your shorts and panties down over the curve of your ass. He looked, but it was so fast of a peek that it was impossible for you to notice. Now finished with your impromptu strip tease, you pulled a sleeping shirt from the shelf and threw it on, spinning on your heels to face him. 

Clad in nothing but the oversized t-shirt, you marched back to Peter, who had taken a seat on the edge of your bed. You climbed behind him, sliding your hands up the round muscle of his shoulders. On your knees, you were just taller than him and decided to take advantage of that by kissing his neck, slowly. You nipped here and there, suckling in other places while your hands explored the front of his shirt, ghosting over the faded print. 

Peter started sweating, and the stiffness between his legs got worse. Much worse. There was no hiding it, or ignoring it and he could’ve sworn that he heard you giggle behind him. His expression was a melange of pain and pleasure, and as your hands neared his crotch, he couldn’t really tolerate much more of your tender kissing… 

“Babe,” In a blur of motion, your back was pressed against your mattress, and he was back to tweaking your nipples again, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. The action made you squirm. “Your foreplay is bitchin’, but you’re driving me crazy. Loco. I feel like I’m gonna’ bust.”

“Okay, so now what?” 

“Now what?” He repeated, almost mockingly. “It’s my turn.”  

His hand trailed down from your breasts over the curve of your stomach to the soft mound between your legs. You felt a buzzing directly on the sensitive bundle of nerves and looked down, equal parts confused and aroused. It was his hand, and not a vibrator, but instead of seeing his fingers move back and forth, you saw a flesh-coloured blur. Everything you’d learned about fingering… in the span of a few hours, he’d completely shattered. So, he could finger-fuck you at super-speed, and he could literally vibrate your clit. Of course he could. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, an intoxicating lilt to your words. Peter groaned, and ground his hips against the side of your thigh. His finger dipped down, collecting some of your warm, slithery wetness and pulling it back up, smearing it around your folds.

You clapped your hand over your mouth, legs quivering. The pad of his middle finger continued tapping your clit and you felt the very rapid climb of your orgasm. Without warning from him, Peter’s hand drifted away from your pussy, his slick fingers gripping your thigh. “Babe, I’m thirsty.” 

“Wh-what?” Breathless and sweaty, you quirked a brow at him.

“You got a soda or something?” 

“Uh, yeah, in the kitchen. Y-you’re really thirsty right now?” 

Before you could protest, you stood in the kitchen. He had opened the fridge, popped the tab on a can of Coke, guzzled it, and tossed it into the bin. You blinked. “What… Peter…!” You sniggered, covering your mouth to muffle the sound of your own voice. Your mother’s bedroom was right above the living room, and the last thing you wanted was her to wake. 

He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t wait any longer. He’d gotten you downstairs, and now it was time to up the ante. Wrapping his arms around you, Peter zipped to the couch, and could’ve fucked your wet little cunt right there on the sofa. In the span of a few seconds, Peter could’ve drilled his aching cock inside of you, just long enough for you to feel it, just long enough for him to bust inside you and just long enough to make you quiver. Instead, he hovered over you, looking deep into your eyes, chest heaving. 

“What’re you so nervous for, babe? You know that the second I hear footsteps, we’d be back in your room.” 

“Peter, we can’t… my mom is right above us, dude!” 

“You’re no fun, c’mon.” He craned his neck down, pressing a few teasing kisses along your exposed collarbone. “C’mon, babe.”

You whimpered, rolling your lips inward and your eyes upward. For being such a top tier goof ball, he was unnervingly good at making you feel like your entire body was on fire. That electric current that you felt at the roller rink was back, buzzing through you at a high voltage.

“Peter…” you begged, hoping he’d change his mind because the reality was that he’d get his way if he didn’t. You were too turned on and too into him to say no. 

“C’moooon.” Another kiss. Internally, he was ripping stuffing. His confidence was outrageous, where did he get the balls? He wished you were holdin’ his – no. Stop right there. You ran your tongue along your teeth, and Peter watched the wet muscle as it swept across the enamel, glistening. 

“You promise?”  you asked. 

He nodded, too eagerly, his silver hair flopping with the motion. “Scout’s honour, or whatever. She won’t know a thing.” 

With a little huff, you spread your legs, allowing him in. Peter wasted no time in letting that wet, aching monster free, immediately pulling his gray boxers down over his balls. You pressed your hips into the couch cushions, backing away from the heat that met your groin and Peter followed them, pressing his hips right back into you. He groaned breathily, rutting his hips. You were soft and warm underneath him, and felt so soo good. The shaft of his cock met your wet folds, and he immediately found a rhythm, humping you in long, steady thrusts that had you curling your toes. Every time the velvet plush head of his cock bumped into your swollen clit, you whimpered. Ecstasy deluded your senses, eyes rolling back in your head.  

“Peter, oh my god…!” His hand clamped over your mouth, his dark eyes widening in a warning. 

“Shhhhhhh –” 

You nodded underneath his grip, remembering the threat of the situation. Peter kept his hand on your mouth, pressing tightly against your soft lips. He reached down, taking hold of his cock and pumped it in and out of his own fist a few times before lining up with your entrance.

“Ready?” 

With lusty, half-lidded eyes, you nodded. 

Peter pushed his leaking tip inside of you, then with a shaky breath, sunk the rest of the way in. The sensation of your walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock was indescribable; hot, tight pleasure coursed through your body in waves as Peter found his rhythm. Fast. Fast rhythm. He fucked like a teenage boy, and you liked that – his bunny humps were deep and intentional, like the crimson head was trying to find the deepest point inside of you. Peter pressed his lightning-bolt patterned socks against the armrest of the couch, using it as leverage to push himself inside of you.

His cock made slick by your arousal, his hips moved against yours rapidly, hammering your cunt in a way that you physically thought impossible. In the darkness, you saw Peter smirk crookedly, pleased with the visual below him. Your tits bouncing underneath the shirt with each thrust, your eyes wide and lust-blown. His gaze dropped to them, watching, entranced. With your free hand, you reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it up to your collarbone and letting your breasts fall free. 

“Oh fuck,” he whispered. 

Skates fast. Fucks fast. Cums fast. You thought, watching as his face contorted, his eyebrows knitting together, jaw dropping. His breaths came out in hurried little huffs as he pumped inside of you, filling your cunt with sticky, white heat. 

“Honey?” 

He froze. You froze. Stiffly, you turned your head towards the staircase, looking up into the darkness, petrified. 

“YEAH! YEah, mom, just… getting a drink!” You tried to keep your voice level, but there was something so inherently naughty about having a guy on top of you, his dick inside of you while you spoke to your mother. Your stomach was tight, muscles burning with the contraction. 

“Oh, okay! I thought I heard - I don’t know. I love you!”

“I love you too! Goodnight!”

Once the door clicked shut, and your head snapped back in Peter’s direction, who was still panting on top of you. Slapping his pectoral muscle hard, you mouthed go go go go! Naturally, before you’d finished the last ‘go’, Peter had pulled out and you were back in the safety of your bedroom before a drop of cum had time to leak from your swollen cunt. Back on your bed, your hair splayed out on the satin pillowcases. Peter was at your side, drawing circles on the exposed flesh of your stomach. 

“Did you uh -”

“No… I didn’t have a chance.” 

“Oh, uh… sorry about that. That happens a lot, y’know? Part of the whole speedster thing, I can’t always –” 

“Peter… shhh… it’s cute. It means you like me.” 

He pointed a finger at you, pushing his bottom lip into his top. “That… that is true. Hey. I have an idea.”

In the darkness, only illuminated by the moonlight that filtered in through the window, you saw Peter sink down to his stomach, resting between your legs. He moved both legs atop his shoulders, pulling you forward.

You felt a hot breath against your thighs, and whimpered. When a warm tongue licked between your wet folds, you moaned out, grinding your head back into the pillow. Peter slipped a single digit into your cunt gently, twirling his tongue around your clit as he did. He pumped it in and out a few times, feeling the way your cunt squeezed around him. Your wetness coated his finger, dripping down the length into his palm. 

You felt your cunt clenching, uncontrollably. Peter did too and withdrew his finger. His tongue flicked at your clit rapidly, the wet, slick sounds filling the quietness of the bedroom. His dark eyes flitted up to yours, watching every minute expression that flashed across your face. 

“S-slow down…” you whispered, not loud enough for him to hear. It was more of a desperate breath in the shape of the words. He didn’t hear you, and even if he had, he was far too busy burying his nose in your cunt, tasting your sweet fluids. His tongue lapped at your entrance and curled back towards his throat, swallowing. He groaned into her, the sound resonating through your core. 

“Peter… Peter!” You whispered harshly, gripping his head on either side. He didn’t budge, and his eyes drifted shut in ecstasy. Moving up to take a fistful of silver hair, you yanked him off your cunt, his reddened lips glistening and open, confused. His inky orbs looked up at you, dazed and desperate. 

“Whaaat?” he asked, a hint of annoyance tainting his usually upbeat voice. 

“Slow… down….” 

“Sorry but that’s not really… my…” He paused, looking at your weeping cunt again. “...thing. She doesn’t really look like she wants me to, either.” He reached forward, sweeping a single digit along the length of your pussy. You jerked, sensitive.   

“I can’t stand it, I’m gonna’ cum too quickly.” 

“Quick is in the name, babe.” He shrugged his shoulders, as if telling you that you were shit out of luck.

He dove back in, and picked up licking her again, from bottom to top. He was slightly slower than before – maybe he’d decided to have mercy on you. Or maybe he was just savouring the feeling of your cunt as it practically fluttered on his tongue, your clit throbbing with the sensitivity. You rocked your hips against his mouth, humping his pretty face with reckless abandon. It was the only control you had, because as soon as you started that, his tongue had returned to the speedy flipping of your clit.

You were going to cum – so fast that you hardly had time to process it. 

“Ffffuck… oh god,” you whimpered. Your cunt pulsed over and over again, and Peter was right there to feel it. He speared two fingers into her. Curled them upwards, feeling the clench of your orgasm as it came. He fucked you with his fingers until the throbbing stopped, and the first hint of overstimulation came – you whined, too loudly. 

Peter grinned, his slick fingers slipping from your pussy. With a mischievous little glimmer in his eyes, he observed them, watching as the thick, clear strands strung apart between his digits. 

You wanted to ask him on a date. He wanted to ask you on one. But neither of you said a thing. Neither of you said a thing, and just watched each other breathing, chests heaving, heavy with lust. Lookin’ cuter than she ever has… Peter thought, watching you in your post-coital state; sweaty and blushing. 

You knew you were going to be obsessed with him – were already obsessed with him. The high that you chased with skating was nothing compared to what you felt being around this silver dork, and all his little quirks.  

“So uh… same bat-time, same bat channel?” 

You chuckled. “Yeah, Peter. Yeah.” 

#Peter Maximoff #Peter Maximoff x reader #Peter Maximoff x you #Quicksilver x you #Quicksilver x reader #myfics #X-Men Movies

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #108 Part 2

The thought sounded ridiculous and yet Damian found himself unable to completely scoff at the idea. He himself had seen some strange things in his lifetime and it wouldn’t be fair to completely dismiss the idea outright. 

“I’m unsure what your point is but I guess I suppose they exist.” Damian eventually said.

Danny chuckled at this, “I guess you're not from Amity Park huh?” he joked.

Damian scoffed, “I’ve never even heard of that place but I gather that’s where I am at the moment?” He mentally filed the name to search later. 

“Yeah, born and raised. Anyways, we’re the most haunted city in America. Ghost’s are real, you’ll probably meet one at some point. They’re uh… kind of attracted to me? Kind of like… “ He trailed off for a moment, likely lost in thought trying to come up with an example. Damian was going to call him out for spacing, they were probably running out of time before one of his siblings or Pennyworth came to check on him. Luckily Danny continued, “Hey, what city am I in right now, maybe there’s a comparison I can use?” Danny asked.

“Tt, did you not even think to use GPS to find your location before calling me?” Damian scoffed, his supposed ‘soulmate’ was incompetent, “You're in Gotham.”

“Gotham? Well I guess you could compare them to Batman’s rogues then, however they tend to play a little rough. It’s kind of how ghost’s bond.” Danny’s explanation made it sound like he was the one roughhousing with these ghosts. He wasn’t quite sure where this was going but he let him continue, “so well… this next part’s kind of hard to explain especially without proof but well… I’m what the other ghost’s call a halfa. I’m half ghost half human.”

Damian opened his mouth to retort, the notion that you could be half dead was ridiculous really. But as soon as he opened his mouth a cold blue wisp wafted out of his mouth shocking him. An unfamiliar feeling washes over him and he looked down in terror as he started sinking into the bed.

“Explain your power’s now, I appear to be sinking into your bed.” Damian demanded. The feeling was odd, it was almost as if the bed didn’t exist. 

“Uh, right, Okay… so, it’s kind of emotion based? Take a few deep breaths and you’ll be able to ease yourself back out.” 

Damian did just as Danny instructed and took a few deep breaths. Soon he was able to solidify and sit back up on the bed. Suddenly, a knocking sound was heard through the phone. 

Shit, just like he thought, they took too long and one of his siblings came to check on him. He thought it was sweet that they cared, but he’d never voice this thought out loud to anyone. 

“Danny, I need you to listen very carefully. I need you to open the door and hand the phone over to them. Don’t say anything, understand?” 

“Uh Okay?” Damian could tell Danny was raising an eyebrow at this but he did as Damian told him anyway.

“Uh, Hello?” The voice on the phone said, Damian recognized it as Tim Drake-Waynes. 

“Drake, Please step into the room and listen to my instructions,” Damian waited a moment as he heard the door shut. “Alright, meet my soulmate Danny, apparently his parents study soulmates and they did something and now we’re in each other’s bodies.”

He heard Danny sigh, “It was only supposed to strengthen the soulmate pull. It’s not my fault they don’t know about my weird biology.” 

“Weird Biology?” Drake parroted, “do they not know you're a meta?”

There was a pause before Danny spoke, “No, I’m not a meta… but for the simplicity of things, and this conversation, sure, you can call me a meta.” There was a tiredness to his voice, as if he had this conversation with someone else before.

“The name’s Tim,” he told Danny, then Drake suddenly said in an excited voice, “hey, let’s let him in on the family secret and prank Bruce. Let’s tell everyone else about it and see how long it takes him to figure out it isn’t you… we’ll have to train Danny of course. If he really is your soulmate he’s going to find out eventually and it might be good to prepare him ahead of time” The idea sounded ridiculous to Damian but at the same time, he was recently having some doubts about his Father’s attention on him. Drake had a point, if Danny really was his soulmate, he’d find out eventually. 

__________________________

Danny wasn’t sure what was going on, after he handed the phone off to Tim, they talked about some family secret. Soon Tim hung up the phone and turned to Danny, “Damian say’s Sam and Tucker are there and they’ll call back when he’s back up to speed which means that we need to get up to speed ourselves,” he glared at Danny. Danny, who was still wearing Pajamas stood there as Tim approached him. Once they were a yard apart Tim spoke again, “Listen, the secret I’m about to tell you must not be told to anyone outside of this house, got it?” He fixed a hard glare at Danny.

Danny shrunk back for a moment before a thought occurred to him, “why don’t I tell you my secret as well? Damian is already learning by now and since you're his brother you’ll probably be able to help out.” Secrets for secrets, that way they would both be afforded some leverage in the situation. 

Tim seemed to think for a moment with a hand on his chin, he nodded for a moment before looking up at Danny, “Alright, but tell me yours first.” 

#dp x dc prompt #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #writing prompt #poor danny #I honestly don’t have the time to write right now #I’ll do what I can but updates are going to be sporadic #I’m working on a lot of projects like video essay type things so let me know if it sounds interesting #I own a fuck ton of video games so I thought I’d try to branch out a bit in the content I make #Danny and Damian are soulmates #dead serious #Probably a bit ooc #I dissociated a bit writing this #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use

[sattlersquarry]

orange juice (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU) Steve's world changes in the worst way when he loses you. He struggles to move on...but he learns he might not have to when he miraculously gets a second chance with you.

Word Count: ~8k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, death, grief, alcoholism, mentions of sex, mention of alcohol poisoning, and an allusion to a suicide attempt (in a miscommunication!!!! no one actually tried). the reader is presumed dead after the events of season 4. lots of angst and hurt/comfort with a happy ending bc if I ever wrote something without a happy ending my identity has been stolen. inspired by "orange juice" by noah kahan with some other references to his music sprinkled throughout.

a/n: i've been bouncing between this and bloom for the past few months and they are two very different fics tonally, but i hope you enjoy. please let me know if i missed any warnings because this one is kind of heavy.

🍊🍊🍊

ORANGE JUICE

MAY 1986

A ringing phone rouses Steve from a restless sleep.

A near-empty bottle of gin rests on the floor by his bed. He doesn’t remember drinking it, nor does he remember anything else from last night.

It’s been two months since you died. Steve’s not taking it well. 

That horrible day, Steve, Nancy, and Robin ran from the Creel House and found Eddie and Dustin sobbing over you, your eyes lifeless and the wounds on your abdomen weeping.

I’m so s-sorry, Steve, Dustin had said through sobs. W-we tried to save her!

An aftershock of the initial gate-opening earthquake caused panic amongst their group. Steve wanted to carry your body back to the real world for a proper burial, but there was no time before the aftershock got much too intense. Dustin and Robin refused to leave the Upside Down without him. He wasn’t going to let them get hurt, so despite the fact it broke his soul in half to do so, he allowed his friends to drag him back to the gate in the Upside Down’s version of the Munson trailer, leaving you behind.

When the dust settled and reality set in that Steve was going to have to move on without you, grief overtook him. He turned to alcohol as a welcome distraction. He’s been consistently ignoring Robin’s desperate pleas for him to talk to a professional, to drink less, to try and really process his pain.

Steve should listen, but he won’t. Instead, he’ll grieve. He’ll wallow. He’d rather wither away into nothing than work on bettering himself, because you died and that’s not fair. To you, to him. To everyone who loves you.

Steve groans, a deep rumbling thing from deep in chest, as he stretches and rubs sleep out of his eyes. He blindly reaches for the phone on his nightstand.

“Hello?” he mumbles.

“Steve, hey.”

Steve sits up like a rocket at the tremble in Robin’s voice.

“Robin? Is everything okay?”

“Uh, kind of. I mean, yes! But no. Sorry, I just—can you come to Hopper’s?”

“What is it?” Steve asks. He staggers to his feet, getting tangled in the phone cord. “Is it Vecna? Shit, who did he take?”

“No one!” Robin says, voice way too high to be believable. “Please just come over when you can.”

Steve drives over to their basecamp at Hopper’s cabin, a million bad scenarios racing through his head. What if Vecna cursed Dustin? Or Nancy, or any of the others?

What if somehow he got El, and the Hawkins’ team was really doomed?

It takes Steve almost forty minutes to get to Hopper’s, due to earthquake damage and military roadblocks all over town. He raises his hand to knock on the door, but it swings open before he can.

Joyce smiles at him, but her eyes are mournful.

“Hi, Steve,” she says warmly. “Please, come inside.”

This isn’t what Steve expected. Hopper, El, Will, Jonathan, Nancy, and Robin are sitting on various chairs and couches in the cabin’s main room. Usually, it’s frantic around here: everyone running around with mixtapes, weapons, and crudely drawn maps of the town with markings where the most frequent monster attacks are. It’s never this still.

When Steve and Joyce walk in, everyone looks at him, sympathy in their eyes.

Steve’s first thought: Shit, is this an intervention?

Before he can ask, Hopper says: “The gates are closed, Steve.”

Steve’s mouth twists into a frown, heart pounding in his chest. That wasn’t the plan.

“Wait, what? How?”

“We’re not sure,” Joyce says. “But Will—”

“I can’t feel Vecna anymore,” Will explains. “And El checked this morning, and she found Vecna in the Void and…”

“He’s gone,” El says quietly. “Dead. Finally.”

Steve sinks onto a couch cushion. That should be good news. Steve should be celebrating, toasting to the death of the bastard that ruined his life and took you away by way of the demobats. But—

“We were supposed to go back,” Steve says. The back of his throat burns when he swallows hard, trying to choke down the sensation of nausea that’s either from his hangover or his panic. Or both. “We were going to go back and get Y/N’s body.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Jonathan says, looking down at his feet.

Steve whirls to Hopper, eyes blazing with a flash of anger that never seems to leave him these days.

“You promised!” he yells. “You promised that we’d go back for her!”

“I know,” Hopper says, keeping his voice even. “But something—or someone—killed Vecna in the Upside Down and the gates closed. The fight is done. It’s over.”

Steve’s lip wobbles. He won’t cry in front of them. He won’t. But his head spins.

“What am I going to tell her parents?” Steve says, voice cracking.

“You don’t have to do it alone, Steve,” Nancy says. She reaches a hand to touch his shoulder and Steve bats it away. “Steve—”

“This is such bullshit,” Steve snaps, turning to Hopper again. “If you had let me go back down there before, I could have brought her body back. We could’ve given her a proper funeral. Given her parents closure! But you made me wait!”

“It was the right choice,” Hopper says firmly. “I didn’t want to invoke another Vecna attack on Hawkins until we were ready to fight.”

“Maybe there’s a gate that we missed and—”

“We checked the gates this morning,” Robin says softly. “They’re all closed.”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Joyce says. “But it’s over.”

Steve doesn’t say anything else. He storms out of the cabin, ignoring Robin’s pleas to come back, to not be alone right now. Steve drives back home, not without stopping at the liquor store first and loading up on various spirits to numb the pain.

Over the next week, you go from declared missing to officially declared dead. Steve can’t let on to your parents that he had known for months, and Hopper doesn’t want him to tell them the truth about Vecna, demobats, and the Upside Down. It kills Steve to lie to their faces, to attend the funeral where they bury an empty casket, knowing what he knows. Knowing that your body is trapped in another dimension. Dead and alone.

🍊🍊🍊

NOVEMBER 1986

“Y/N wouldn’t want this.”

Robin’s words echo in Steve’s mind hours after she’s fallen asleep in the uncomfortable armchair next to his hospital bed.

An overindulgence forced Steve to spend his Thanksgiving in a hospital—not that he had any plans with his family to get ruined anyway. Although he had been invited to Thanksgiving with the Buckleys, Wheelers, Hopper-Byerses, Sinclairs, Hendersons, Mayfields, and Munsons, Steve declined every invitation. He resigned himself to a holiday alone without you, got heavy handed with a bottle of whiskey, and passed out in the neighbor’s lawn.

When he awoke, he was in the hospital. Joyce and Robin were there, the former fretting over him and the latter chewing him out for being such a dingus and scaring her so badly on a holiday.

Like a broken record in his head of the worst song Steve’s ever heard: Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this. Y/N wouldn’t want this.

Robin didn’t say it to be mean. She said it to get him to wake up. To cool it with the drinking, because if he kept going at the rate he was going, he’d meet a worse fate than a pumped stomach.

Joyce quietly reenters the room and smiles.

“Oh, you’re still up!” she says. “I thought for sure you’d try to get some sleep.”

Steve shrugs.

“I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I’ve screwed up.”

Joyce settles on the chair next to Robin’s, ignoring the sleeping girl’s loud snores.

“When I can’t stop replaying the past in my mind,” Joyce says, “I try to think about my future instead. What are my aspirations and goals? What can I do differently to achieve them?”

Steve chews his bottom lip.

“Is it bad if I have no goals?” he says, feeling quite sorry for himself.

“Why do you think that is?” Joyce asks gently.

Steve shrugs again, before rubbing his eyes.

“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve spent the past 3 years on edge thinking I’m going to get killed at any minute?”

Steve barks out a hollow laugh. “Or maybe it’s because 2 years ago I met someone who turned my life completely around, and she did get killed, and I wasn’t there to save her or be with her when she died. And I couldn’t give her or her parents a proper end and every time I close my eyes, I see her laying there. And I don’t know what my future looks like without her. I don’t even think I want one.”

Steve hates crying in front of other people. But when Joyce wraps an arm around his shoulders, he breaks down.

“It’s going to be all right, Steve,” she says. She squeezes him a little tighter. “I know it’s hard moving on from loss, but you do have a future. You have so many people that love you and are going to help you figure it out. And Y/N would want you to keep going. She’d want you to go off and do wonderful things.”

Joyce was right. If roles were reversed, Steve would want you to keep going without him. Not waste away and drink yourself into a coma.

Steve’s life is changing. And despite everything, things might be looking up.

🍊🍊🍊

FEBRUARY 1987

There is a beautiful girl in Steve’s bed and she’s touching him all the ways he likes to be touched—but he can’t even enjoy it because she’s not you.

He tries to clear his mind of all distraction. The girl with him—Molly—is very, very hot. And the feeling of her hands all over him should be sufficient to keep him focused on the moment. But his mind keeps wandering to you.

You were the last person he was truly intimate with. Sure, he’s kissed girls at parties. But that’s different than what’s happening now. Different than being in bed with Molly and her wandering hands, her gentle touches, her salacious whispers.

Steve thinks maybe he’s finally done it. Found a girl that can help him move on from you, the girl to help him feel whole again. To not feel so alone.

But then, overcome with sensation, Steve makes the worst possible faux pas in bed: he moans the wrong name.

Molly ceases kissing him.

“What did you just call me?” she asks, sitting up suddenly with narrowed eyes.

Steve sits up as well, resting against his headboard and floundering for a response that won’t make him sound like a douchebag.

“I just, uh, well—”

“Who is she?” Molly asks. She widens her eyes in horror. “Oh my god, are you seeing someone else? Am I ‘the other woman’?!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Steve rushes to assure her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just got caught up in the moment.”

“Caught up in the moment thinking of someone else when I was about to blow you!” Molly snaps. She stomps off the bed and grumbles as she pulls her jeans and sweatshirt back on.

“Wait, hold on!” Steve says. He struggles to put a pair of sweatpants on, hopping around frantically one-footed to pull them up as Molly grabs her purse and yanks open Steve’s bedroom door. “Please don’t leave, Y/N—ah, Molly!”

“Unbelievable!” Molly scoffs as she stomps down the staircase of the townhome Steve shares with three other students at the University of Indiana.

Molly gets to the front door but stops, whipping around to face Steve as he catches up to her.

“Who is she?” she demands. “An ex-girlfriend?”

“In a sense, yeah, but—”

“If you’re still so hung up on her, maybe you should ask her to blow you instead!”

Steve thinks about being an asshole. About letting the anger that simmers in his bloodstream 24/7 rear its ugly head. About snapping at Molly, telling her that yeah, totally, he’d love to get a blowjob from a corpse stuck in an alternate dimension.

But then Molly would feel bad and give him the pitying look Steve hates. So instead, he says, “Yeah, I’ll do that. See you in class.”

Molly huffs before giving Steve’s cheek a sharp smack! He doesn’t wince. Upset at his lack of reaction, Molly storms out.

Just as well. Remembering how the love of his life is dead is a real mood killer.

Steve rubs his forehead and heads to the kitchen. He eyes the six pack in the fridge. He hasn’t touched alcohol in three months. The temptation causes his hand to graze a beer can, but he quickly pivots to a cartoon of orange juice.

He chugs the drink before stalking up the steps to his room. Steve drops to his knees and blindly reaches in the dusty space under his bed. He grips the corner of a box and drags it to the middle of the floor.

Once opened, two black button eyes stare back up at Steve. It’s Lambchop, a stuffed animal lamb that your parents gave him. After your parents held a small funeral and buried that empty casket, they gave Steve this box of your things.

Lambchop here was her favorite toy, your mother had said at the time, eyes glistening with tears. She always hoped to pass it on to her own children one day. I think she’d want you to have it.

Steve thanked your mother and father, gave his condolences, went home, drank enough whiskey to fell a horse, and passed out.

Shaking himself out of the memory, Steve climbs onto the bed and places the lamb on the pillow next to him. It’s one of few connections to you that he has left, so he’ll cherish it, even if it’s a little silly.

What Steve doesn’t realize is that in another dimension, the very person he’s yearning for lays in the version of her bedroom created by the Upside Down, holds a dirty version of Lambchop, and yearns for Steve right back.

🍊🍊🍊

MAY 1987

You and Steve used to have your futures mapped out: start at U of I together in fall of ’86. Move in together after your freshman year of college. Get engaged by fall of ’89, married in fall of ’90, and have two kids by ’95. Spend the rest of your lives together, happy and healthy, with the horrors of Hawkins far behind you.

That was before Steve’s world changed in the worst way. Before you died in the Upside Down, when you drew the bats away from the gate. You were a hero, trying to keep them from flying into your version of Hawkins and destroying it.

Steve struggled for a long time. He’s still struggling, but in a slightly better place.

He’s sober six months now. He thinks of you often, but he tries to focus less on how he desperately misses you and more on how you wouldn’t want him to spend the rest of his life miserable and drunk.

But he does miss you so, so desperately. And he would give anything to have you back.

It hurts being reminded of you, so Steve stays away from Hawkins. But he can’t say no when Mrs. Henderson invites him to Dustin’s sweet sixteen birthday party, so he makes the trek back.

“Steve!” Mrs. Henderson coos, opening the front door with a beaming smile. “Welcome!”

“Hi, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve says. She pulls him into a hug and he adds, “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s so lovely to see you too!” Mrs. Henderson says. She leads Steve through the house. “Please, come in! You can put Dusty-Bun’s gift on the dining room table. I have strawberry wine in the kitchen—ah, and orange juice, or lemonade. It’s yours if you want it!”

Mrs. Henderson pivoted to juice awfully fast. She must have found out about Steve’s Thanksgiving Break bender. Steve tamps down the feeling of shame worming its way through his mind and body, instead offering her another small smile before turning to the dining room to drop off Dustin’s gift.

Dustin and the rest of the Hellfire Club are in the den, playing a one-shot campaign that Eddie planned. When Dustin sees Steve, his face lights up.

“Steve! You made it!” he says, rushing over and giving him a bear hug.

“Hey buddy,” Steve says, hugging him back. “Happy birthday, Henderson.”

Dustin grins, and it lifts Steve’s mood immensely.

Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, and Erica greet him next, along with Eddie and his Corroded Coffin buddies. Eddie can barely look Steve in the eye, guilt from not being able to save you eating away at him. Steve’s told him multiple times not to feel bad about it—he knows Eddie and Dustin tried their best.

“Want to join the campaign?” Dustin asks Steve.

“Oh, I don’t know how to play,” Steve says. “I’ll just watch, okay bud?”

A short while later, Robin arrives. Once the campaign ends, Mrs. Henderson brings out the cake, and then gifts are opened.

“He looks really happy, huh?” Robin whispers to Steve, nudging him gently with her elbow.

Steve nods with a smile. Dustin took your death really hard—the two of you had been close ever since you helped him, Steve, Lucas, and Max fight the demodogs in the junkyard. Seeing Dustin smiling and laughing with his closest friends on his birthday makes Steve really, really happy.

Still, Steve’s heart aches. You should be here. You should be smiling as Dustin opens his gifts. You should be getting cake frosting on your nose, playing along with the campaign although you have no clue what’s going on.

Ice grips Steve’s chest. He gets a flashback of you lying on the cold ground, unmoving, and—

“You okay?” Robin whispers, brow furrowed. How the hell can she tell that he’s upset? It’s frightening how observant she is.

“Fine,” Steve says, throat tightening. He’s not. But he isn’t going to let his grief ruin Dustin’s big day.

At the end of the night, Dustin asks Steve when he’ll be back to visit again.

“My summer classes end in August,” Steve says. “I’ll come by then. Maybe we can hit the pool?”

Dustin seems disappointed that it’ll be a while before he sees Steve again, but he doesn’t push.

However, Steve ends up coming back to Hawkins much sooner. Three weeks after Dustin’s birthday party, Eleven calls Steve and tells him something that makes his heart stop:

“Steve, it’s about Y/N.” 

🍊🍊🍊

Steve is a frantic mess.

He sits in the Byers-Hopper basement, knee bouncing as he intently watches El try to find you in the Void again.

El had told him that she’d sometimes look for you in the Void, hoping to give him some semblance of closure. However, she claims that a few hours ago, she finally found you for the first time and saw you not as a corpse, but fully alive. It’s a hope that Steve didn’t dare hold onto before, not until now.

As soon as she called, Steve got in his car and drove to Hawkins, going ten over the speed limit the whole time. He picked up Robin and Nancy along the way to El, Will, and Jonathan’s, and (unfortunately) Mike tagged along.

“Do you see her?” Steve asks, voice cracking.

“No talking, please,” El says, tightening her blindfold.

Steve purses his lips. Will gives him an apologetic smile and Robin squeezes his arm to offer a semblance of comfort. Jonathan looks between Steve and El, an uneasy expression on his face.

“I see her,” El whispers after a few minutes.

Nancy gasps. Mike’s eyes widen. Steve staggers to his feet.

“She’s okay?” Steve asks. “Where is she?!”

“I can’t tell,” El says. “But she’s holding a small, white fuzzy animal. Wait, is it dead?”

“Lambchop,” Steve says.

“Come again?” Nancy asks.

“Lambchop is her favorite stuffed animal,” Steve explains. His heart pounds in his chest at the realization that holy shit, you really are alive. “She must be in the Upside Down version of her house.”

“Y/N!” El calls. “Y/N!”

After a few more minutes of calling to you, El pulls off the blindfold and wipes her nosebleed away.

“She can’t hear me,” El says with a sigh.

“Maybe because the gates are closed,” Nancy offers.

“But if you open another gate,” Steve says, “we can get back through and find her. Right?”

“Hold on a minute,” Jonathan says, holding a hand up like a traffic cop. “Is that such a good idea?”

Steve narrows his eyes.

“Is it such a good idea to save my girlfriend’s life? Yeah, I think so, Byers.”

“Steve,” Robin whispers. “It’s okay. Just relax.”

“Relax?” Steve says, voice rising in volume with every word. “Relax?! You want me to relax? What about this fucked-up situation is relaxing! My girlfriend has been stuck in literal hell for over a fucking year! We’re going to rescue her, no matter what!”

“But opening a new gate could have major repercussions!” Mike protests.

“Screw the repercussions,” Steve snaps, glowering. “We can’t just leave Y/N down there to rot!”

“None of us want to do that, Steve,” Nancy says, keeping her voice level and calm. “But what if this is a trick from Vecna?”

“It’s not,” Will says. “If it was, I would feel his presence. I don’t anymore.”

“Boom!” Robin says, snapping her fingers. “If our human monster detector doesn’t sense any bad vibes, then we should be good to proceed.”

“Maybe we should ask El what she wants to do before we make any plans to open new gates,” Jonathan points out.

“Exactly,” Mike says. “El, what do you want to do?”

El looks down at her lap, before looking up. She locks eyes with Steve.

“I’ll do it. I’ll open the gate.”

Relief floods Steve’s whole being. He feels lighter. More hopeful than he has in a long time. But it all comes crashing down when—

“That’s not happening.”

The group turns to see Hopper and Joyce on the basement steps. Joyce looks worried, face twisted into a frown. Hopper looks angry, with his brow furrowed.

“But Dad—” El says.

“No buts,” Hopper says. “You are forbidden to open a new gate. You hear me?”

Joyce places a hand on her husband’s shoulder and says, “Now, Hop…”

Steve interrupts, walking over to the older man with a wild, panicked look in his eyes. “Hopper, please. Y/N is still alive in the Upside Down. We just need one gate so I can go through and bring her back. Please.” Hopper fixes Steve with a sorrowful stare, the smallest bit of guilt etched on his features. Still, he remains steadfast.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Hopper says. “I’m not putting my daughter at risk. She won’t do it.”

El, Robin, and Will all try to convince Hopper otherwise, their arguments overlapping into a cacophony. Nancy, Mike, and Jonathan share uneasy looks.

Steve can’t listen to this anymore. He quietly excuses himself, darting past Hopper up the steps and stepping into the backyard.

He sinks on the porch stoop and stares off into the quiet, cool night. He understands Hopper’s reasoning, but he doesn’t have to like it. He’s spent over a year mourning you, only to discover he might be able to get you back—for that hope to be dashed as quickly as it blossomed.

Steve picks a point in the tree line and focuses on it, putting all his energy into watching it so he doesn’t break down or cause any more of a scene than he already has.

He hears the squeak of the back door and Robin’s tentative, “Hey, how you doing?”

Steve shrugs absentmindedly, continuing to stare. Robin lowers herself onto the stoop next to him.

For a few blissful minutes, she doesn’t speak. She just rests her head on his shoulder and lets him stew in silence.

The spell is broken when she blurts out, “You’re not going to break your sobriety, are you?”

“Jesus Christ, Robin,” Steve grumbles, nudging her slightly so she’ll sit up. “You don’t have to ask that every time I’m in a bad mood.”

“Sorry,” she says. She picks at her fingernails. “Sorry. I just worry about you, you know?”

“I know,” Steve says softly. “I worry about you too.”

“Me?” Robin says. “No, no. I’m fine.”

Steve eyes the way her hands fidget. Before he can say anything, she blurts out, “I just don’t want a repeat of Thanksgiving. I mean, you almost died of alcohol poisoning. They pumped your stomach!”

“I know. I was there.”

“No!” Robin snaps, sounding awfully harsh despite the tears welling in her eyes. It breaks Steve’s heart to see. “You were unconscious! And it was the scariest thing that’s ever happened to me, including all the torture and monsters, because I thought I was going to lose another best friend. I already lost Y/N. I can’t lose you too.”

She sniffles and Steve pulls her in for a hug. He can’t stop a few stray tears from falling down his own face as well.

“You won’t lose me,” Steve says, voice thick. “I promise, Robin. I’m not going to do that again. Okay?”

“Okay,” she mumbles, hugging him tighter. “I love you, dingus.”

“I love you, Rob.”

“That’s not fair,” Robin says, pulling away and wiping her tears on her sleeve. “You have to call me a mean nickname back or I just look like an asshole.”

Steve barks out a laugh and shakes his head.

“You are an asshole.”

“Perfect,” Robin says with a small smile. “Now we’re equally jerks. Just the way I like it.”

The back door opens and Will steps out.

“Hopper changed his mind!” he says with a grin.

Hope pumps like blood through Steve’s cold, shrunken heart. He’s going to see you again. Fuck, he’s going to see you again.

🍊🍊🍊

The next day, the group stands in the basement once more, this time making their plan for a rescue mission. Mike squealed to Eddie, Dustin, Lucas, and Max about what’s going on, and they all showed up wanting to help too.

“Not happening!” Hopper barks, a fierce look on his face. “New rule: you have to be 18 to come along.”

Eddie pumps his fist in victory, thrilled that he gets to come and try to make things right after losing you the first time. The younger teens grumble.

“But El is going!” Dustin complains.

“El is going to stay in the Lab with Joyce,” Hopper says. “She’ll open the gate for us and wait.”

“I can keep the gate open for one hour,” El says.

“That’s plenty of time to find Y/N!” Robin says brightly. “We already know she’s probably at her house.”

“And she lives close to Hawkins Lab,” Jonathan says, pointing to a map of Hawkins. “So we’ll be in and out.”

“It’ll be easy!” Eddie says.

“Don’t jinx it,” Hopper warns.

Nancy turns to Steve and pats his shoulder.

“You feeling good about this?” she asks quietly.

He nods. Although, truthfully, he’s terrified. If they come all this way, only for him to lose you again…he’s not sure he’d be able to handle that.

🍊🍊🍊

The Upside Down is not what Steve remembers.

The alternate dimension used to be dank and cold, like an endless winter’s night. Now with Vecna gone, it’s brighter, with a yellow sky and actual green foliage, not the moldy, dry shit from before. It seems less dangerous than last time.

No matter how much it’s changed, the thought that you’ve been here alone for over a year makes Steve’s blood run ice cold.

“This way!” Hopper barks, tracing his finger on his map of Hawkins and leading the group toward your house.

Jonathan and Nancy walk side-by-side with Hopper, glancing around at the tree lines constantly for any sign of danger. Eddie and Robin hang back, Steve walking slightly in front of them. He hears them whispering about something, but when he turns his head to try and listen, they quiet down.

He’s not an idiot. He knows what they’re worrying about: if they can’t find you, will Steve have another breakdown? Go on another bender? Would Steve even survive it?

Steve’s been wondering the same things himself. But for now, he stays positive, his optimism increasing tenfold when the six of them turn onto your street.

He can’t help but pick up speed, jogging past Hopper and causing the older man to snap, “Hey, stay behind me!”

Steve ignores his protests, shouting your name and pushing through the front door of your house.

He’s been here many, many times. He’s walked the pathway from your front door to your bedroom over and over again. Steve walks that path for the first time in over a year, charging up the steps and tuning out the concerned warnings from his friends.

He bursts into your bedroom, calling your name. He doesn’t see you, but maybe you hid when you heard the front door open. So he checks the closet, the ensuite bathroom, under the bed, to no avail.

Steve’s eyes sweep the space for any clues of your whereabouts. Most of the room seems untouched, except for your bed, where the sheets are rumpled and a grimy Lambchop the Stuffed Lamb sits primly on your pillow with her soft hooves crossed over her lap.

Steve picks up the toy, heart stuttering at the sight. You were sleeping here last night. You must have been. But where are you now?

“Steve!” Robin calls from down the hall, bringing him back to the present. “We found something!”

Steve gently places Lambchop back on the pillow—arranging her the way you always do, because anything else seems disrespectful—and heads back downstairs.

Hopper, Jonathan, Nancy, Eddie, and Robin are crowded around the kitchen table. On it is a sheet of paper with a rudimentary sketch of the town.

“Check it out,” Jonathan says. He traces his finger across the drawn lines. “It’s a record of where the gates originally opened.”

Sure enough, there are big stars drawn over Hawkins Lab, Eddie’s trailer, the road by the trailer park, Lover’s Lake, and the Creel House.

“That’s why she’s not here,” Nancy says. “She’s out searching for an opening.”

“We don’t have long,” Hopper barks, glancing at his watch with a grimace. “El can only keep the gate open for an hour. We have forty-one minutes to get back to the Lab.”

“We could split off into teams,” Nancy says. “Jonathan and I can go to Lover’s Lake.”

“Steve and I will hit the trailer park and the highway,” Robin adds. “Eddie and Hop, you can go to the Creel House.”

“We find Y/N,” Hopper says, “and we head back to the Lab. No wasting time. We move fast, we stay vigilant. Got it?”

The younger adults all nod and agree to stay on their walkies in case anyone needs to get in touch. Then, they split off to their destinations.

As Steve and Robin sprint toward the trailer park, Steve can’t stop panic from enveloping him head to toe. What if they’re too late? What if you’re dead—again? What if you don’t remember him somehow. What if—

“Look!” Robin says, throwing out an arm to stop Steve in his tracks. He skids to a stop and sees where she’s pointing.

Behind the closed curtains of the Munson trailer is the beam of a flashlight moving around. Steve’s heartbeat quickens.

“Okay,” she whispers as the duo slinks toward the trailer. “We need to think about this carefully, and make a plan to—wait, Steve!”

He charges into the trailer.

A figure flinches and whips around, hunting knife raised. Steve almost falls to his knees in shock at the sight. It’s really happening.

“Steve?” you whisper, voice cracking. He stands in front of you, hands raised and eyes flicking between your face and your knife. The corners of his eyes burn, tears starting to form.

He says your name, and the look on your face cracks his heart into seventeen pieces. He starts to step toward you, but—

“You’re not real,” you say quietly. “You can’t be.”

“No, I’m real!” Steve says. “It’s me, Y/N. It’s Steve. We’re here to take you home.”

You step back, still pointing your weapon at him.

“Don’t come any closer!” you shout.

“Okay, okay!” Steve says. He steps back, slowly.

“Steve!” Robin shouts from outside. “What’s going on in—”

“Stay outside, Robin!” Steve yells, voice wavering as he eyes your knife.

“But—”

Steve swiftly locks the trailer door without turning away from you.

The two of you ignore Robin’s knocks and protests. Eventually, she gives up, and Steve hears the crackle of her walkie-talkie.

“You can’t be Steve,” you say, shaking your head frantically.

“I am,” Steve begs. “And I’ve missed you so much—”

“You can’t be Steve because there’s no way into the Upside Down!” you say. He notices your arm start to shake. “Trust me, I’ve checked and checked and checked and there’s no gates anymore. And since my Steve isn’t a corpse at the Creel House, I know Vecna didn’t kill him and he’s back in the real world. If you’re not Steve, who the hell are you?”

Steve swallows hard. The back of his throat tastes acidic and he feels desperation wrench its way through every cell in his body. When he imagined his reunion with you, he didn’t anticipate this conversation.

“El reopened a gate for us,” Steve explains patiently. “We thought you were dead. But El looked for you and saw you were still alive, so we came to rescue you.” He glances at his watch and his brows furrow. “But we don’t have a lot of time. We need to head back to the Lab because she can’t keep it open forever.”

“How can I trust you?” you say. “How do I know you aren’t a trick?!”

“I’m really me, I promise,” Steve says. He hesitates before stepping closer to you once more. This time, you don’t move away. “We’re safe now, because Vecna’s dead.”

“I know. I killed him.”

Steve’s eyes widen a fraction.

“You what?”

“I had to,” you say. You shrug and look a little delirious. How much sleep have you gotten in the last year, Steve wonders. “Vecna brought me back. He would've flayed me and sent me to spy on and kill all of you if I didn’t kill him first.”

Steve almost falls over. The haunting fact that you had to fight Vecna alone makes his stomach turn.

The pained look on Steve’s face seems to shake something deep down in you. Any resolve you had crumbles. You heave out a sob, dropping the knife to the ground. Your knees buckle.

In seconds, Steve wraps you in his arms as you sink to the ground.

You cry, limp in his hold. Steve cries too, choking on encouraging words and apologies and everything he’s wanted to say to you since March 1986, when he thought he’d never speak to you again.

The door rattles. You startle and Steve holds you a little tighter.

“HARRINGTON!” Hopper barks. “Get a move on!”

“We have to go,” Steve says, urgent yet gentle. “We can talk more when we’re home. Okay?”

You nod, standing on unsteady legs.

Steve squeezes your hand before leading you out the door.

The whole rescue squad is out there, and you look wholly overwhelmed at seeing everyone after so long alone.

“No time for pleasantries,” Hopper says. “We’ve got less than twenty minutes to get through that gate.”

“Or it’s a slumber party at Y/N’s,” Eddie jokes. He playfully knocks his shoulder against yours and you gasp at the sudden contact. “Oh, sorry—”

“RUN!” Hopper yells, clapping his hands.

Everyone bolts toward the Lab. Steve and you run side-by-side, hands intertwined.

Shock envelops Steve’s senses, but he keeps running. The one thing racing through his mind is to get you back to safety.

The Lab’s gate is not the gaping maw it once was. It’s about the height of a minivan door, but its width is quite smaller—and slowly but surely shrinking.

El and Joyce stand on the gate’s other side, looking relieved to see everyone.

“Hurry!” Joyce says, waving you forward first. You hesitate, but Steve says, “We’re right behind you. Go on.”

You crawl through the gate and stumble to your feet on the right side of the universe. Steve would normally let everyone else go in front of him, but he wastes no time following behind you. Next comes Robin, then Jonathan and Nancy. Eddie and Hopper bring up the rear.

As soon as Hopper’s crawled through the gate, El drops her hand and it sews itself up—for the final time.

Steve and the others swarm you, all speaking too fast and asking a million questions. Joyce opens a first-aid kid and tries to sit you down and asses your various cuts and bruises. They hurt Steve to see.

“Look at her! She needs more than bandaids and alcohol wipes,” Eddie says, nodding in your direction.

“He’s right,” Jonathan says. “Mom, we need to take her to the hospital—”

“No!” you say. You stumble toward the staircase. “I need to go home. I need to see my parents, let them know I’m alive. How long have I been down there? I’ve been keeping track, and it has to be at least ten weeks, right?”

Steve places a hand on your shoulder. You look at him, eyes wild. “Y/N,” he says softly, “it’s been 15 months.”

That seems to be your final straw. Steve catches you as you pass out.

🍊🍊🍊

SIX HOURS LATER

While you get checked over by Dr. Owens and his people, Steve paces the hospital waiting room. Robin chews her thumbnail and watches the doors to the ER. Nancy and Jonathan bend their heads together and whisper, and Eddie attempts to distract Dustin and the other teenagers by juggling snacks from the vending machine.

After you fainted, Steve didn’t want to leave your side, but Hopper said everyone except himself and Joyce had to go home.

If our entire merry band shows up at Hawkins Mercy Hospital with a presumed-dead girl, it’ll look too damn suspicious, Hopper had said. Go home. Clean up. Wait three hours, and then you can come check on her. We’ll keep you updated.

In exactly 180 minutes, Steve and the others charge into the ER asking the nurse on duty about you.

“She’s still being looked over,” the nurse tells them. “Her parents and the Chief are with her now. You can wait over there and we’ll call you when she’s able to have visitors.”

Another 180 minutes go by. Now, everyone’s getting antsy. Steve has half a mind to charge into the ER and find you himself.

“Simmer down, Steve,” Robin says, noticing the way he’s squeezing the lilac teddy bear he bought you at the gift shop. “You’re choking the life out of that thing.”

“Why haven’t we heard anything from Hopper?” Steve asks. He checks his pager for the fiftieth time. “He said he’d keep us updated.”

“She’s probably going through a psych eval or something,” Max says.

“Or an interrogation,” Mike says darkly. “Maybe they think she had something to do with the murders last year.”

“Shut up, Mike!” Nancy hisses.

Steve curses and pinches his nose. Last year, a cruel man named Colonel Sullivan swept into Hawkins, searching for the real culprit behind Vecna’s kills after Eddie was proven innocent (thanks to a bogus alibi cooked up by Owens’ team). Steve was one of the unlucky few questioned, due to his connection as Jason’s former basketball captain. The thought of you, disoriented from so long in that shithole, handcuffed to a hospital bed while Sullivan grills you makes him see red.

Another sinking realization hits Steve: he’s changed since last year. What if you don’t like him anymore, once you realize how much of a mess he became when he lost you?

Hopper emerges through a set of double doors. Steve’s charging over to him in seconds, the rest of his friends piling behind and all talking at once.

Hopper holds up his hands to silence the group.

“Owens wants to run some more tests,” Hopper says. “They’re checking for contaminants in her bloodstream. You all can see her soon.”

He points at Steve. “Except she’s asking for you right now. You ready?”

Steve nods and squeezes your new teddy bear again. He gives Robin a panicked look, and she gives him a quick hug.

“Go get her,” Robin says with an encouraging smile.

Steve smiles back before following Hopper down the hall. Joyce stands outside your hospital room and smiles when she sees Hopper and Steve approach. Steve freezes.

Through the plane of glass in the door, he sees you with your parents. All three of you are crying.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Steve says, backing away from the door. Before he can fully chicken out, Hopper bursts in and says, “Hey, look who came by.”

You and your parents look up. At the sight of him, your mother and father beam.

“Hello, Steve!” your mother says, sweeping him into a hug. “Can you believe she’s back?!”

“It’s a goddamn miracle,” your dad says, wiping tears on his sleeve. “We’ve been praying for this for so long.”

“Let’s leave these two alone to catch up,” Joyce says. “Grace, Roger, why don’t we pick up some food for Y/N?”

Your parents agree and step out with Joyce and Hopper. When it’s just you and Steve, all either of you can do is stare at each other with awkward smiles.

You clear your throat and point to the teddy bear.

“Is that little guy for me?”

“Yes!” Steve says. “Uh, sorry.”

He hands it to you. When your fingers brush, it feels electric. Still, after so long apart—no matter how much he’s dreamed of what it would be like if he somehow saw you again—everything feels stiff. You’re the love of his life and he can’t think of one thing to say.

“How have you been?” you ask quietly, seemingly just as uncomfortable as Steve.

Steve can’t help but laugh and says, “Terrible. I mean, shit. I know what you went through is way worse—”

“I don’t want to talk about what I went through,” you say sharply. Steve recoils and you wince. “I’m sorry, Steve. I just—I’ve been through this like five times with Owens’ guys, and over a cover story two more times with the cops. I don’t want to talk about me. I want to hear about you. What’s been going on?”

Steve wants to know more about what happened. About how you killed Vecna. About how you survived. But he doesn’t. He would never push you to discuss anything you didn’t want to, but he hopes that one day you’ll feel ready to open up to him.

Right now, you want to hear about his life. Where to begin. Steve thinks of sugar-coating the truth but doesn’t when he admits: “For starters, I almost died last year.”

You gasp and sit up a little straighter.

“What? Oh my god, what happened?”

“I’m fine now,” Steve says, waving away your concerns.

“Was it Vecna?”

“No, nothing like that. I really missed you, and I was in a bad place.”

You swallow hard, eyes turning glassy.

“Oh, Steve. Please don’t tell me you tried to—”

“No!” he says quickly. “It was alcohol poisoning. I drank too much being too lonely on Thanksgiving. Had to get my stomach pumped. It wasn’t all bad, though. Robin and I watched ‘A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving’ on the hospital room TV and Joyce snuck in some pie for me.”

You ignore his attempts and lightening the mood and wave him even closer to you. He cautiously approaches and intertwines your fingers when you reach for his hand.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “I feel like it’s my fault—”

“Stop it.”

“Steve…”

“No!” Steve says. He shakes his head vehemently. “Don’t think like that. I just…struggled without you. But it’s not your fault that I’m a basket case.”

“You’re not a basket case,” you say. You squeeze his hand. “You’re the hero that crossed dimensions to come rescue me.”

You kiss his palm before scooching over on the hospital bed. You pat the spot next to you.

“What if your parents come back?” Steve asks.

“I’m not trying to hook up right now,” you say with an eye roll. “I just want you to lay with me.”

Steve is happy to oblige. He settles next to you. You rest your head on his shoulder and hug the teddy bear he brought you.

“So, you didn’t move on?” you ask quietly after a few minutes of peaceful silence. “Find a new girlfriend?”

“What?!” Steve asks, looking down at you, jaw dropped. “You really think I found someone else?”

You nod, fidgeting with the bow around your bear’s neck.

“15 months is a long time,” you whisper. “I don’t want to stand in the way if you're with someone else.”

“I couldn’t,” Steve says. He rests a hand on your knee cautiously. When you don’t flinch or move away, he keeps it there. “Y/N, I don’t want anyone else. I only want you, if you’ll still have me.”

You look up at him, noses practically brushing. The close proximity makes Steve’s cheeks flush rosy pink.

“You mean that?” you ask.

Steve nods. It seems to placate you, because in seconds, you’re lifting your chin to kiss him.

It’s a soft, gentle thing. An innocent brush of lips, like the kisses you shared very early in your relationship. Not the passionate “welcome home” kiss that Steve wants to give you, but he understands if you need to take things slow. He’ll move as slow as you need.

For the first time in months, Steve feels hopeful about his future again. Steve’s world is changing once more, in all the right ways.

🍊🍊🍊

EPILOGUE

You and Steve have your futures mapped out: after six months of physical and emotional healing, move in with Steve and join him at U of I in spring of ’88. Get engaged and subsequently married sometime within five years. No kids—at least, not biological ones, because your time in the Upside Down has caused lasting physiological effects that you don’t want to pass on to children. Maybe you’ll adopt a kid, or some dogs.

It's less of a map and more of an amorphous outline of what you two want to happen. All you two know for sure is that you never want to be apart that long ever again.

Steve’s heart and soul have changed, but they belong to you, and yours to him. Always.

🍊🍊🍊

a/n please lmk what you thought 🧡

tag list; @hollandweather @starry-eyed-steve @aloneinthehellfire @tvandfanfic @a-dealwith-god @stevebabey @keerysquinn @spoookysix @inkluvs

#st fic: oj #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic

[gunthermunch]

[Transcript under the cut]

Zoe: you might have noticed already but I’m no counselor, I’m just the best tracher they have that knows how to speak to children. Max: I’m not a kid Zoe: so, why are you so fixated on Rochelle. She has something that you don’t? Thumbs up from an authority? Male approval? Max: uhh. I just think her art sucks? Zoe: hm. Zoe: …I haven’t seen you since you were a freshman. You somehow were smaller back then. Max: yeah well, I feel just the same. Zoe: care to elaborate? Max: no. Zoe: Max, are you still seeing your therapist? Max: what does that have to do with anything Max: SHE went to JAPAN and then I completely forgot to get back in touch. Zoe: uh huh. When did that happen? Max: …three months ago? Max: but I got so much better anyways! Besides, what’s she gonna do now? Tell me to get in touch with my feelings? To not push people I love away? Respect my own body? I already know all that. Max: besides, I’m still taking my meds. So take that. Zoe: yup. Noted. Knocking Zoe: Oh. by the way, since you were unconscious for a while, we took the liberty to call your mom. Just in case. Max: my mom’s dead. Ulrike: --you are supposed to BLOCK them, you BLOCK the punches from your face, sigh- Ulrike: what happened? Max: a butch Ulrike: …well, happens to the best of us. Zoe: hello! Are you his stepmother? As you can see he’s up and well, but it’s still nice you came! I’m sure he could use some family time right now Ulrike: …Max who’s this lady Max: that’s Zoe. She teaches here. Zoe: it’s a pleasure!…Ul….rich-a? Ulrike: Ulrike. Zoe: Ulrike, I’m sorry! That’s a beautiful name. Ulrike:thank you. Could say the same about yours. Zoe: I uh- aha. I mean THANKS Max: noo o o o

Max: that was so depraved of you. Ulrike: hey, she started it. And I can’t deny a gorgeous lady like that. Ulrike: You might end up seeing me around again sooner than you think. Max: …ew. Ulrike: everything alright? You know, besides your new black eye. Max: I just need to get some rest. Forever. Ulrike: how about we get some cheap lunch instead? Max: …yeah.

#well the chair worked and now people on my discord server know i wasnt being 100% honest about max and therapy #ts4 #munch #max villareal #ulrike faust #zoe patel

[kinopio-writes]

Hello! Could you write platonic Dad!Adam headcanons? Thank you,

A/N: Lol. Don’t expect too much out of this guy because…it’s Adam. Heavily focused on him rather than the reader, sorry. Also, I might have gone a little overboard with this one because, uh, this was supposed to be only headcanons as you said, and the not-requested ‘drabble’ ended up being a few scenarios with a one-on-one convo with Adam and Sera at the end. 3rd POV and the reader is referred to as they/it, btw. Enjoy.

Holy sh!t I reread your request again and I don’t know if you meant that the reader is supposed to be the child or fuuuuuuuu—tell me if that’s not what you wanted, I had fun writing this nonetheless.

Words: 727 (not including the bullet points)

Warnings: Very vulgar language because I kind of adapt to certain types of writing depending on the characters, Sex is mentioned, Adam being Adam

———

How Adam would be as a Father (Reader is the child)

• first things first, the only way I can see Adam become a dad was because he accidentally impregnated a chick when she fucking swore that, oh, no, Adam, I’m on birth control. Oh, don’t worry, Adam, you don’t have to finish in my mouth. Oh, no need, Adam, I’ve got it covered. Oh, it’s okay, Adam—yes, this is Adam mocking her

• so imagine his surprise when he found a fucking child at his doorstep crying like a little bitch (it’s a child, dude)

• “What the fuck?” was his first reaction

• he’d find a note that said something-something about oh who gives a fuck about her and her sob story about having to leave the child in his care?

• what mattered was—“THAT FUCKING BITCH LIED TO ME!”

• after that whole ordeal, he would sit in his gigantic ass living room, slumping on his couch with arms crossed and grumbling complaints as if he was the child

• now, don’t tell me this guy knows anything about being a father

• because he doesn’t

• the first few weeks he would really just let someone else take care of the kid

• Lute would be the caretaker most of the time since she’s around Adam a lot

• the problem was that she’s an exterminator

• she wasn’t made for this (I headcanon that exterminators are entirely different beings that are created and are not exactly classified as angels. Explains why all the exterminators are women)

• her purpose was to kill sinners and she certainly didn’t have babysitting on her list of skills

• so eventually, the responsibilities would fall back on Adam

• of course, he had attempted to get in contact with the woman

• he came back with nothing

• wait, nothing? Holy shit, he left the baby—

• and, if you’re wondering, I don’t think Heaven has adoption centers or whatnot because everyone is responsible when they’re thinking of having a child *ahem ahem*

• but, hey, how hard would looking after a child would be?

• probably accidentally dropped the kid once before

• will get mad that he can’t do his guitar solos because they would start to cry even louder

• has probably nearly suffocated it by leaving a pillow in their crib (edited in because this just came to me)

• doesn’t know how to hold it properly

• eventually got it right by observing some of Heaven’s residents

• thinks he’s the best dad because of it

• speaking of residents, they most likely don’t know that the first man has a child

• dude, you really think he’d be caught dead with a kid?

• nuh-uh

• sometimes forgets he has a kid

• have left it in his—I headcanon—condominium completely unattended sometimes

• so, uh, yeah…not looking good for Adam here

let’s get on with the scenarios, shall we?

———

Adam covered his ears with his silk pillows, trying to muffle the sounds of that brat’s whining.

“Ugh! Shut up, Shut up!” Of course, it didn’t shut up.

He banged his head on the pillow repeatedly, swearing he was going to fucking throw this fucking child off the fuCKING BALCONY IF IT DOESN’T SHUT UP—

He had enough and went over to the crib in the corner of his bedroom, snarling. “Y’know, since your mommy was such a quiet whore you’d expect the brat to act the same. She should’ve been honored that she even got my dick. Mine. And this is how she fucking repays me?” The child in question looked up at their father, their cries coming to an eventual stop as he rambled on and on. “Finally.”

The moment he left their sight, however, they started to cry once more.

“OH MY GOD—”

———

Adam arrived home tired as shit balls.

“Not fucking now, bitch,” he dismissed when they reached for him from their place in the crib as he flopped himself on his king-sized bed. At least it wasn’t crying. Rather, it was babbling and flailing its hands and feet. While it was a nice change, it was still annoying to listen to.

Eventually, he decided to shut it up and lazily dragged himself over to the crib, picking it up in his hands and setting it near his shoulder.

“Ugh, there there. Or whatever.” He idly patted the child’s back, plopping back on his bed.

Surprisingly, the kid soon fell asleep without further complaints, nuzzling into their father’s comfortable robe.

Ugh, rude. It fell asleep before he could bitch about his day as he usually did. Instead, he grumbled his own day to himself, his eyelids growing heavy as time passed by.

Adam later dozed off with the baby in his arms, snoring loudly as his wings wrapped around him and the child in his seldom peaceful slumber.

———

The living room was dark. Heaven’s natural light poured through his open windows and the TV played a movie that was most definitely not suited for young audiences. At least it wasn’t anything sexual. Heaven forbid.

In the midst of the oddly serene environment that is Adam’s residence, holy light flashed from beside his couch and the tall figure of Sera appeared. Adam instantly turned the TV off.

“Adam, pardon my intrusion. You still haven’t submitted your forms and they were due yesterday—” Sera interrupted herself when her eyes landed on the baby next to the first man.

“Sera, what gives? Can’t you see I’m busy? Where’s your sense of privacy? Jeez.”

“Adam, is that a child?” she asked rather accusatorily.

“Ugh, yeah, so what?”

“I didn’t think you would—where’s your wife?” She brushed her hair back behind her shoulder, her brows furrowed. “Um, I figured that after Lilith and Eve—”

“Pshh, you’d think this guy would settle down for anyone? Puh-lease. Imagine a world where you can’t fuck the original dick. Worse than any nightmare you could ever dream of.” Adam averted his gaze as his shoulders tensed up.

“So you care for this child alone? By yourself?” Sera looked more worried than ever, which Adam instantly latched on to.

“Are you doubting me? I started humankind—I know what I’m doing.” He settled his arms on the headrest, legs raising to rest on the coffee table as he gave a lazy shrug.

“How long have you kept this child?”

“What’s with all the questions? Uh, I dunno, more than two months, I guess?”

“What is its name?”

“Oh, uh…” Shit. He didn’t really think about that. He only kept calling it ‘kid’ or ‘brat’. “Adam Jr!” he blurted out the first thing that went through his mind. “Yeah, that’s right, everyone would immediately know that this kid is from me, Adam.”

Sera only narrowed her eyes. “Very well. I’m surprised you managed to keep this hidden from me. The child—”

“Adam Jr.”

“…Adam Jr. seems to be doing fine in your hands. But raising a child is no easy feat, Adam.” She took a deep breath in and closed her eyes momentarily. “We will have our discussion regarding your work tomorrow. Have a good night.”

As the seraphim was engulfed with holy light once more, vanishing as quickly as she came, Adam was left to think if the hassle was really worth this brat.

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #adam x child!reader #child!reader #child reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel sera #kinopiowrites

[arrowenchantress]

I'm Sorry.

Carmen Berzatto x fem!reader

Summary: You work with your childhood friend Carmen. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but you love it. Your memories torment you as you sleep, but when you get shot. you finally get some peaceful rest.

TW: guns, gunshots, blood, gunshot wounds, avoidance, fluff.

Word Count: 2062

NOT PROOFREAD!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Screaming

So much blood

I’m screaming but no one is coming to help

He’s dead

Mikeys dead right in front of me

I couldn’t save him

*My eyes snap open*

Stupid fucking nightmares, I can never fucking catch a break ever since Mikeys death. It feels like I keep failing him in my dreams over and over again. I can never get there in time. When I happened to bump into Mikey in a bar on my 21st birthday, I never would’ve imagined he’d be my best friend. I also would’ve never guessed that he would break my heart worse than any man ever could. The images of him lying….. there flash behind my eyes over and over again as I get ready for a long day at The Beef. The images flash as I drive and get inside, but as soon as I step inside and smell the familiarity, I’m ok. I open my locker and start slowly getting ready in silence, I’m not usually early but I just couldn’t be at home any longer. “Hey” I hear a familiar voice behind me, yet I still jump “Hey Carm” my voice comes out soft and shaky. “Why are you here so early?” concern and confusion lace his voice “Woke up earlier than usual, didn’t see a reason not to” I don’t know why I decided to lie to him, out of all people Carmen can see right through me.

“Don’t lie to me chef, please” he tries to convey his concern in his eyes, but I can’t look at him or I will spill all of my secrets. “My nightmares are back, I uh- I don’t exactly know how to deal with it, it’s not a big deal Carm I promise” I avoid eye contact and put my kitchen shoes on “You don’t have to hide from me you know, I’m not a stranger” he whispers with an undertone of hurt. “I know Carm I’m just- sad and confused and mad I- I don’t understand it” my eyes are glued to my feet “I know what you mean, I get them too, if you’d ever like to talk” he puts his hand on my shoulder and my eyes snap up to his. “Uh yeah of course, thank you, same goes for you” I feel my face heat up the longer I stare at him. Our eyes stay connected. “YO FAK! THE HELL WAS THAT FOR MAN!?” Richie yelling made Carmy and I both jump away from each other clearing our throats “I’m uh going to go start uhm” “Yeah I’ll meet you out there” “Great”” “Yup”. I quickly shake off the butterflies that have formed, why do I feel this with Carmen? I shake my head and throw on my apron and getting to work. My mind wanders as my hands are busy at work “They are going after my fucking house Carmen!!” I hear Sugar yelling, why is she here and whose going after her house? My nosey ass slows down and tries to listen when I hear her yelling for me, great. I walk out to the back where Sugar and Carmen stand “yes, hello, hi, why are we yelling” I say trying to keep everyone as calm as possible “Do you happen to know where Mikey left the tax forms” Sugar says crossing her arms with an expectant stare on her face “I’m so sorry but why would I know that” I say with a confused look, my eyes shifting to Carmys, he looked just as lost. “BECAUSE! Mikey told you everything!” Sugar yells getting more frustrated “Ok, ok please breathe, yes he did tell me MOST things but this he did not, I’m sorry lovie” I sympathize with you, putting a hand on her arm as she sighs and nods “We’ll figure it out okay” Carmen says trying to help. “Why don’t we start by looking in the office yeah?” I suggest calmly as I guide Sugar inside, shooting Carmy a look that tells him to not upset her or I’ll kick his ass. After about 45 minutes of endlessly sorting through papers and Sugar yelling Fuck You at about every single piece of paper I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes “Why the hell would he organize like this?” Sugar says annoyed that we still haven’t found anything of use “I don’t know. I’ll ask him when he’s not dead” Carmen replies so casually, my eyes snap open and I clear my throat “Ok I need a break” I say as I stand up and stretch before leaving the tiny, cramped office and joining Syd and Richie at the front.

I didn’t pay attention to what they were saying though I did catch Richie saying something about a bar closing. How could Carmen say something like that so casually, how could he act as if something super traumatizing hadn’t happened, how could he-. White blinding hot pain shoots through the left side of my body “SHIT GET DOWN!” I hear Richie yell yet his voice is muffled, I freeze. “Shit is everyone ok?!” Carmen yells out as I stand there in shock, I finally look down and just see blood “Carm-” my voice cuts out as the pain comes back full force and I start to collapse “OH FUCK!” I hear Carmen yell before everything goes black.

His images flash behind my eyes

He talks to me.

Laughs at me

I couldn’t even save myself

*My eyes flutter open to the blinding white light of a hospital room*

My vision is fuzzy as I look around, not able to focus on anything so I close my eyes again as I shift, wincing as my side hurts “Hey sweetheart” I hear Sugar softly say beside me. My eyes flick over to a semi blurry figure in the room “Hi” my voice is soft and gritty, my throat dry, Sugar gets a cup of water and hands it to me, I take it thankfully and down the whole cup.

“What the hell happened, where’s Carmen, is everyone ok?” I spit out all the questions running circles in my head “Hey, hey slow down okay, some rando shot at the place, we don’t know who it was but Richie is working on it. Everyone is completely fine, you were the only one who got hurt” she calmly states. “What about Carm?” my voice gets more concerned as she avoids eye contact with me “He’s uh, still at the restaurant, he was a mess one second freaking about your blood all over his hands and then the next…. he was back to work”. I squeeze my eyes shut, my blood boiling, of course Carmy would avoid that “I’m going to step out ang get some food and text everyone and let them know you're okay, need anything?” she says sympathetically “No. no I’m ok. Thank you” she nods and quickly leaves the room, leaving me with my thoughts.

I slowly sit up trying to find my phone, I spot it in a bag of my bloody clothes across the room. I slowly get up, wincing as I move, I drag my IV with me across the room to the bag. I quickly open the bag and grab my phone, grossed out at all the blood “Jesus Christ” I grab a tissue and wipe my phone down. “What are you doing up?!” I hear a panicked Sugar behind me “I needed my phone, I need to talk to Carm in person though I need him to see that I’m ok Sugar, help me get dressed in some clean clothes, no one will notice I’m gone” I rant out fast and panicked. “No. Absolutely not. We need you getting better and not worse do you understand me. You can call him” Sugar sounds very serious which is very off putting, so I pout “Fine. Can you step out while I call him, please” I ask as she helps me slowly back into the bed, she nods and steps out, wishing me luck.

I stare at Carmens contact name for a while before finally hitting the call button.

It rings.

Rings.

Rings.

Rings~

“Hello?” he sounds very apprehensive.

“You weren’t here.” I snap a bit.

“What?”

“You weren’t here when I woke up Carm. The one person I wanted to see.”

Silence

“Look I’m sorry okay I just, I couldn’t see you like that okay” he sounds stressed.

“What if something had happened Carm? What if I had needed you”?

“Don’t talk like that. Plus, you don’t need me.”

“I actually need you more than anyone else” I snap, tears burning in my eyes.

Silence

“I’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up.

I sit there staring at my phone, the fucker just hung up on me. Sugar comes back in and talks to me while I wait for Carmen. As soon as he arrives, she takes her leave wishing me luck.

He avoids my eyes as he stands next to my bed, I cross my arms and stare at him “Carmy, what’s wrong, talk to me” “It’s my fault” I barely catch it he says it so soft “Oh fuck off Carmen it’s not-” “I had a panic attack, that’s why I wasn’t here”. My mouth snaps shut as guilt starts to creep up on me “Carm-” “I can’t- I can’t lose you too. Not after-” his eyes stay locked on his feet, but he slowly starts to rub his hand on his chest. Fuck. “Hey I’m right here Carm. Look at me please” I reach my hand out and rub his arm, his eyes snap up to mine and I see the tears “Oh Carm” I move hand up to cup his cheek and rub my thumb across his cheek. He slowly brings his forehead down to mine “I’m not good. We’ve been over this. I’m bad for you. I’m not good at anything that’s not cooking, I’m especially not good at relationships” Carmen starts to rant “We were freshly 18 and 19 when we had that conversation Carm, we’re different people now” I whisper as I stare into your eyes. “You know how I feel Carm. I’ve never kept it a secret, even when we were kids” I laugh as he starts to smile “No you were definitely not subtle” I shake my head.

Silence followed as we basked in the others presence “Can I kiss you?” his question shocks me, I nod “Words sweetheart” “Yes Carmen, you can kiss me, I might pass out if you don’t-” he cuts me off by deeply kissing me, I lose myself in the kiss, tangling my fingers in the curls at the base of his neck. He pulls back slowly “We’ll work on your kissing” “Oh fuck off” he pulls me back into another kiss, I pull back “I’ll be back and better in no time, I guess this gives me some time to think about some new things for The Bear” he gently rubs my cheek as I talk “I’ll be here every step of the way ok” “Yeah you better be” we both laugh.

“Will you be my-” I quickly put my finger over his lips “Nuh uh. You better not be asking me to be your girlfriend in a hospital room” I shake my head with a dead serious face “Okay. Message received loud and clear” I laugh and shake my head before pulling him back into a kiss.

That night, cuddled up to Carmen, was the first night I had no nightmares in months.

Yeah. Everything's going to be ok.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leave suggestions if you have any!! <3

DO NOT STEAL OR COPY MY WORK ANYWHERE!

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear x reader #the bear #the bear fic #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you

[lenaluvbot]

First time for everything

warnings!: (smut/degration kink/praise kink/hair pulling kink/choking kink/dom sub underlines/domination kink)

smut underneath the cut

It was strange.

Orm knew he’d have to stay low til people believed her was dead like his brother told him, but that do mean he actually wanted too?

The first green flag he got he practically ran (his new favorite thing to do) his way to the city called the quote “big apple”

He had never gone away from the ocean unless absolutely necessary. Yet here he was walking awkwardly amongst a group of people when he felt a tap on his back.

“Are you okay sir?”

You had to ask! He was walking as if he’d been shot in the ass.

“Yes..Perfectly fine- But i have a question miss..Where’s this self proclaimed big apple?”

You burst out laughing.

“Self proclaimed big apple?”

“Isn’t this the right place? i’ve been here for days yet no big apple.”

Holy shit! he was seriously saying that!

“You know that’s just a saying right? This isn’t an apple?”

“I wouldn’t know, i’m not from here” Shit. God he couldn’t keep anything to himself.

“Oh really? Where you from pretty boy?”

“Out of town, reallyyy far south like really far i doubt you’ll know where”.

“Mississippi?”

“Uh sure something like that.” He smirked, this was the longest he’d talked to a surface dweller. Let alone the fact it was a woman. A hot woman at that. Shit he hadn’t spoke in a good thirty seconds and now she was staring awkwardly.

“I um have to go but here’s my number, incase you want to actually tell me where you’re from.” You gave him your cell number and smiled as you walked away. If it wasn’t for your scheduled dinner you would’ve continued talking to the mysterious man, even though you sub conscious was telling you to run.

Damn you and being attracted to hot guys.

He continued his walk with a satisfied smirk, was it really this easy to attract women on the surface?

He continued his quest to find said apple but grew bored as he checked into a on surface hotel. He eventually dialed your number into his hotel phone (since he didn’t have a actual one yet)

“Hello?”

“It’s me the guy who was trying to find the apple earlier”

“Oh..Hey, call me to finally say where your from?”

“Something of the sorts, you should come over so we can discuss it.” He smirked looking down at the bed.

“Sure, i’ll be over in a few.”

Like you said you arrived at the hotel with a shirt that made your breasts practically pop out the shirt, pushy? yes. sultry? yes. but he had already called you over so it was obviously worth it.

“You loook…Great.” He grinned at you.

“Thank you.” Your were practically begging to climb the guy down.

“Come in come in.” He ushered you in with his arm, his hand on your back and trailing lower..Giving you a gentle squeeze. You sat on the bed with a little distance.

“Come on, i’m not gonna bite.”

“I know i’ve just never done this before, like going to see a guy at a mysterious hotel, if you weren’t hot i truthfully wouldn’t have even came over.”

“In all truthfulness, i haven’t either.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m far from a liar.”

“I doubt a guy like you has never gone to a hotel to meet up with someone.”

“A guy like me hasn’t even been to the surface before”

Surface? What the hell was he talking about?

“Surface? Okay you don’t have to be sarcastic.”

“Look between you and me, i’m not from around here. I’m from some place a little further south, And i’m here lie down for a little and just learn a few new things..” His hand slid up your thigh “If you’re willing to teach me.”

“Teach you?…Have you never had sex where you from?”

“Something like that.”

“Well i’m down to teach you as long as you finish telling where your from first.” You smirked, a deal for a deal.

“I’m from atlantis. That city in the water? Yeah that’s me. But i kinda got kicked out momentarily.”

“So are you like the king or something?”

“Well kinda-“

“Because that’s really hot.”

Oh.

He had to continue the lie now.

“Yes i’m a king. A king who’s never been with a human, one with your beauty at that.”

He kissed you and slid a hand up your shirt and squeezed your breast, your already hard nipples being squeezed made you practically squeal.

“Oh? Humans can do that?” He grinned and grabbed your other breast making you practically moan so loud even the orca whales could hear you from here.

He grabbed your legs and flipped you over his lap so now you were straddling his lap..then he stopped.

“What’s that for?”

“Well underwater we usually do it differently so-“

“Oh..Well humans do it a little differently, want me to guide you?”

“Please yes.”

You kissed him and pushed him back into the bed, un buttoning his belt as you unzipped his jeans. Precum leaking through the base of his undergarments.

You took out his cock and palmed it, already hard he let out soft whimpering from the feeling. “Keep going.”

“Hm?”

“Please keep going..”

“You going to good just let go..release in my hand come on- no pun intended.”

Almost on command he came in your hand as you slowly let yourself onto him. And god his size truly changed from palming it to now feeling it inside you.

“Now you just have to move you hips and i’ll do the rest-“

He grinded “Alright then…” He moved his hips slowly and started to make you bounce on him, you let out soft moans as you put your hands on his shoulders.

“I get it now.”

He flipped you over onto your back as your ankles were now on his shoulders as you thrusted into you hard.

“You know underwater- The current gives so much movement it’s hard to honestly get a good rhythm but here! God! It’s great! And humans truly are much more flexible-“ He grabbed your leg and pushed it over your head

“Just amazing.” He knew exactly what he was doing. Pushing his luck.

He knew humans weren’t as durable as atlanteans. But god it was fun. Watching his seamen fall out of your cunt.

He chuckled as you reached another orgasm. Calling out his name as you had never felt someone practically break through you before yet here he was. His first time ever feeling the warmth humans had to offer and he was making you throw your head back as another orgasm made way.

“Fuck-k orm please don’t stop.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, you know what i was planning on? Settling down with you..Maybe making a baby? You want me to fill you up and make a half breed baby? I can imagine it. You just full of my royal seed.”

His own words made him cum (again) as he thrusted into you. His cum leaking out as a trail as he pulled out.

“Thank you,for showing me the way of humans…It’s truly amazing.”

Hopefully plan B still worked when it came too atlantean seed.

#aquaman #aquaman and the lost kingdom #orm marius #orm marius x reader #smut #orm marius smut #dc comics #dceu #patrick wilson #patrick wilson smut #backshot #bd/sm kink #choking #spank me daddy #breeding k1nk #i dont fucking know

[callmelola111]

my summer of you ♡ part two

✄ - - - -   part 1 , part 2   - - - -   inspo track (till there was you)

synopsis: being sent to your grandparents for the summer was supposed to be a punishment, but when you came face-to-face with your neighbor, you knew it’d be quite the opposite.

      | 𓆣 | pairing & wc: loser!ellie williams x neighbor!reader. wc: 4.5k

      | ❀ | cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), modern au, fem reader, lots of fluff, marajuana use, profane language, mentions of tense family relations and childhood trauma (brief), joel cameo, ellie is so loser nerd it's actually adorable, ⭑ SMUT ⭑ … soft dom!reader, sub!ellie, mommy kink, fingering (e receiving), oral (e receiving), pet names (baby, special girl, etc.). MINORS DNI !!

a/n: hi lovelies, last part!!! ellie is just a sweet little angel baby who deserves to be taken care of!! sorry not sorry. i know dom!ellie is a fan favorite (trust me i love her too) but i feel obligated to write loser!ellie as an actual inexperienced, obsessed, space loving loser. kinda unplanned, but the end just turned into me living out my mommy fantasies tbh. ha i need her so bad, anyways... thanks 4 the love ♡~ lola

A twinge of anxiety hit the pits of your stomach as you stood, fist at the ready, face-to-face with your neighbors white front door. A deep exhale finally sent your hand into motion producing a loud knock on the wood— one you repeated 4 times before finally being answered.

The door handle rattled a bit before completely twisting to the right and revealing an older gentleman. His hair was brown, short and messy. The man's face was shrouded in a thick beard full of grays and his brows seemed permanently furrowed. You would’ve been a little fearful if it wasn’t for his sweet southern greeting that immediately softened you.

“Well, hello there little lady. What can I do for you?”

“Uh, hi… I live next door. You’re Ellie’s dad right?” you questioned.

“Mmm… kinda, I’m Joel. But um, if you’re looking for Ellie she’s still at work.” he replied, quickly moving past your question. It felt odd but you could see that asking him to elaborate wouldn’t be in your best interest- or his for that matter. 

“Oh okay… do you know when she gets off?”

“Six I think. I’m sure she’d love to see you though. Girl hasn’t stopped smiling since you moved in next door.” His answer made your cheeks hurt from the widest grin you’d ever made. 

“I guess that makes two of us.” You looked at the ground feeling somewhat bashful as you admitted how smitten you were with his “kinda” daughter. “Well uh, thanks Joel, it was really nice to meet you.”

“No problem kiddo, you too.” The man waved you off down the concrete steps and you waved back before he shut the door behind him.

Without a 2nd thought you trekked 4 blocks over to the bookstore where Ellie works, practically skipping the whole way. That sweet little bell rang once more as you pranced inside. A comforting smell of old paper immediately wafted through your senses.

Running your fingers along the yellowed edges of tattered books, you waited for Ellie to detect your presence. The girl seemed to be completely consumed by the small paperback resting against the edge of the counter she was positioned behind. The intentional clearing of your throat is what finally broke her focus with a slight startle. 

“Hi Els.” 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” she attempted to question nonchalantly, but the excitement behind her voice was clear. The frantic taming of her auburn locks and crimson colored cheeks was also a dead giveaway, and just as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, it quickly fell back to its rightful place- in front of her lovely face.

“Wanted to see if you’d wanna go to the boardwalk after your shift?”

“With you?” Ellie could hardly believe it.

“Of course with me… But, I mean that’s only if you wanna go.”

“Yesyesyesyesyes.” she slurred out frantically at a volume that was definitely not suited for a bookstore.

“Knew I could count on my special girl. You’ll be done at six right?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You almost lied to Ellie, as the topic seemed like the kinda thing that was supposed to go unsaid. But you didn’t.

“Uh, Joel told me…” 

“Oh? You talked to Joel?” Ellie seemed to withdraw at his mention, fidgeting with the pages of her book.

“Yeah… just for a second. I went over to see you and he answered the door.”

“Gotcha…” She lingered on her words like there was more to say but ultimately refrained from speaking out. You couldn’t help but pry just a little, it was in your nature.

“You seem kinda off when he’s brought up. Can I ask why?” Your bold question made you wanna squeeze your eye’s shut until the moment was over, and the growing silence made it even worse.

“Another time?” Ellie answered begrudgingly. You felt bad for even asking.

“Yeah yeah of course. I- I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” All the sudden your hands were clammy and the long thread hanging from your top was wrapped around your index finger, restricting circulation. Anything to distract from your social slip-up.

“No, no, don't feel bad! I promise you did nothing, I- it’s just me.” She gave you an apologetic smile and suddenly everything felt okay again.

“We’re still on for the boardwalk though, right?” you questioned, motivated by the need of reassurance. 

“Yes. Please.” she affirmed. “If you want you can just hang here with me until then? I’ve still got like half an hour left.”

“Okay, yeah.” you gave a shy smile feeling less in control than in your usual interactions with Ellie. The fast growing feelings had suddenly clouded your incessant need to flirt and tease 24/7. What was this girl doing to you?

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - - 

As the sun set south in the watercolor sky, the green tinted waves crashed just past the dock where you stood. Ellie was positioned beside you with both hands awkwardly in the pockets of her distressed jeans. Nerves were obviously eating her up.

“Chill out Els, this is gonna be fun!!” you smiled all teeth and nudged at her tattooed arm which she eventually released from the denims tight hold. You snatched her free hand, which was concerningly wet, and dragged her through the crowds of people. Ellie didn’t complain once and if you had asked her to jump off a cliff too she probably would have done it right then and there. 

You looked up at the towering ride in front of you and then turned to give Ellie some puppy dog eyes, “Can we pleaseee ride the ferris wheel?”

“Yeah of course, whatever you want.” And she meant it. The only thing Ellie asked of this night was to see your gorgeous smile and hear the symphony that was your giggles. She wanted you to be happy– happy with her.

After waiting in a short line of babbling kids and adults, a small blue pod sheltered by white, plastic roofing swooped down to load in more passengers. You slid onto the bench attached to the left side and Ellie situated herself opposite, hand anxiously gripping the edge of the seat. The wheel began to move as you sat face-to-face, only a thin white pole separating the two of you. You gripped it between your hands before peaking around to question her.

“Are you scared of me or of heights?”

“Huh? Wha- what do you mean?” 

“I meannnn… you’re huddled up in that corner like I’ve got Covid or something. Come sit with me Els. I miss you.” You batted your eyelashes and gave a pout like you were a sick puppy who only Ellie could cure. She could barely keep her composure when you flirted like this and was of course already embarrassed enough for sitting so far away. But how could you blame her? The poor girl was so anxious and had basically zero play to go off of.

In frantics, she scurried over to the other bench causing the apparatus to rock back and forth with a screech and you let out a little squeal in return. Ellie came to your protection leaving only centimeters between each other and you essentially lost all brain function.

With a sheepish laugh she apologized, “Sorry I’m so fucking stupid sometimes.” 

“Hey don’t say that!” You scooted to the right, closing the gap between her jean-clad thigh and yours. “You are not stupid Ellie Williams.” 

“I kinda am.”

“What makes you think that?” you asked, placing a comforting hand to her tense shoulders.

“I don’t think you wanna know…”

“I do Ellie. Seriously, you can tell me.” 

“Well, uh- I guess I just feel stupid cause… I can’t tell if this is supposed to be a date.” She looked down in shame at her confession. “And I- I feel even more stupid for wondering that.” 

Moving your hand to her thigh you gave a long sigh, “Oh els, don’t feel stupid for my shortcomings. I know it’s childish, but even now I can never seem to find the courage to say how I really feel.” Ellie’s face was teetering on the verge of surprise at your admission.

“Well, how do you really feel?” she appealed.

With slight hestance you spoke the truth, “I feel like… I also want this to be a date.” The girl smiled wide and patted your knee with care.

“I guess we’re on a date then, huh?”

“Yeah I guess we are.” you poked back. But before you could even take in the view from your spot on the ferris wheel, your pod had already reached bottom and the metal door swung open to exit. Maybe another time when you weren’t so captivated by the girl in front of you.

After a few games and an ice cream stop, the sun had set and crowds dissipated. Although it was obvious that neither you or Ellie were ready for the night to end.

“Sooo, what now?” you looked all around trying to think of an excuse to stay out longer.

“I have a joint in my bag… if you’re up to smoking. We can light up on the beach.”

“Ellie– I’m always up for smoking.” Problem solved.

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -

Sitting cozy in the sand, Ellie reached into her navy blue backpack to grab the weed and you watched dotingly. As she zipped the front pouch back up you noticed a small pin– a rocket ship

“What’s that?” 

“Just a pin. I’m into space shit.” she answered, pulling out a forest green lighter from her back pocket.

“Ooo tell me more!” Ellie released the joint that was about to be lit, genuinely stunned at your interest in her nerdy fixation. 

“Well, I wanna be an astronaut. Kinda like Sally Ride. That’s why I’m a STEM major.”

“Hell yeah, women in STEM! But ummm, who’s Sally Ride though?”

Her eyes went wide, “You don't know who Sally Ride is??” This spun her into a long tangent about the famous astronaut, and the strides she made for women, and how it’s even cooler because as Ellie put it, “she was gay!!”. As she rambled on you felt your feelings multiply. You had never seen her talk so much, and with so much passion too. It was a sight to see– one that you’d save to memory.  

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” she questioned.

“No, not at all Els! I love it. I love hearing you talk.” You gave a reassuring beam as Ellie finally lit the joint that had been rolling around in her lap after the conversational detour. The salty air picked up making it hard to ignite the paper so you offered a helping hand to shield the wind. Ellie accepted graciously, eventually taking the first inhale and passing it over to you. Sitting criss-cross in the sand, you held the burning substance between your pointer and thumb before taking a savory puff. 

“God, it feels like ages since I last smoked.” 

“Have you not been able to find a good plug here?” Ellie wondered.

“Not exactly…” you took a pregnant pause considering if you even wanted to mention it. “I haven’t been completely honest about the real reason I’m staying with my grandparents.” Ellie didn’t seem to phased at this. She had suspected something was up after the odd cigarette incident with your grandma. 

“You know I’d never judge you ____. You can tell me, really.” 

“It’s embarrassing but… my parents banished me here for acting out at school.” you admitted.

“Really? What’d you do?” she questioned, taking another drag from the lit joint.

“My smoking and drinking habits were a little ‘out of whack’. And apparently so were the little escapades that those habits got me into.”

“What do you mean by… ‘escapades’?”

“Umm, sex. With girls.” You plummeted your finger into the sand, feeling way over the situation already. “My parents swear they’re not homophobic but sometimes I wonder if they would’ve reacted the same if I was hooking up with some frat dude instead.”

“Damn I’m sorry. So they must be really mad then?”

“I guess, they rarely even call. But I’m not sad about it anymore so it’s okay.” Ellie noticed a gloss form on your eyes and refused to believe that there wasn’t at least a little part of you that was still hurt. Like instinct she roped you into a tender hug and you reciprocated with your hand around her neck. When she pulled back a small tear fell to your cheek and you quickly wiped it trying to stay tough.

“Now you owe me an explanation after that one.” you sniffled once more, eventually moving past the momentary sadness.

“Fine.” Ellie almost had to convince herself to keep talking. “Joel isn’t my dad, but he’s like my dad, and everyone thinks he’s my dad which just makes things weird.”

“Not to pry, but uh could you maybe elaborate?” Ellie stared off into the sea as she dumped her heart out.

“My real parents didn’t stick around for long. I was bouncing from home to home for a while until I turned 14. Joel found me, he was a family friend, and we’ve kinda been inseparable since. I hate when it’s brought up though. It’s a reminder that the people who were made to love me just didn’t. I had to find it elsewhere. And even now, years later with Joel, I still sometimes feel so void of worth.” Finally looking back to you she was met with streams of your tears. 

“Ellie what the fuck. That’s heavy... I’m so fucking sorry.” You just wanted to hold her for eternity and tell her that everything was gonna be okay. Tell her that she was worth something– she was worth everything.

“Hey, hey no need to cry. I’m alright now, I promise. Joel is awesome.” she reassured, using a rough thumb to brush away the drops littering the apples of your cheeks. You placed your hand on top of hers feeling the comforting warmth. 

“Els, I-” Before you could even finish her lips had met yours in a spur of the moment kiss. You reciprocated as both of her hands flew to the sides of your face to pull you in deeper.

It felt like you were the only 2 people in the world and this moment was all that mattered. Passion rose as you slid your tongue into Ellie's mouth, playing a game of tag with her own pink muscle. The girl—more confident than you had ever seen—found your wrists and sent you back into the sand with purchase, obviously hungry for something.

But just as things were getting good your phone began going off like crazy. After about 7 buzzes and Ellie’s lips traveling down your neck, you had to swiftly roll out from under her to see what was up. The poor girl looked like a kicked puppy at the loss of your touch. She watched as you read through messages and immediately jumped to your feet, grabbing your bag along the way. It was Grams. And she was mad.

“Fuck fuck fuck!! I’m sorry Ellie, I have to leave. Like now.” you blurted anxiously.

“Wait what?” 

“I’m sorry! I promise to explain later but I have to go.” Ellie sat confused and unresolved as she watched you disappear into the darkness with only the moonlight to guide.

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -

The night after coming home late, Grams had smelt the weed and in turn confiscated your phone, along with all freedoms you once possessed. “As much as it hurts to do this, I promised your parents I’d enforce some rules” she had told you as you pleaded for mercy. You were officially fucked and didn’t even have your phone to explain it to Ellie. What was she gonna think? How could you get around this? But as you lay on your bed a certain book catches your eye and that’s when it hits you. 

With a pen and a brightly colored index card you scribbled out a simple note. It read...

Dear Ellie, if you’re receiving this then my plan has worked. I’m currently writing from the confines of my bedroom which I will be isolated in for the next week. I’m sorry it’s taken so long to communicate this but my grandparents weren’t too happy about breaking curfew to go “smoke pot” (which i reeked of). I don’t have my phone either, but god I miss you Els. So… if you can ever forgive me, come knock on my window late tonight and maybe I’ll let you in ;).

You slipped the small, highlighter-yellow note into the pages of The Bell Jar and handed it off to Grams to run next door, arguing that “Ellie needs it back immediately” and “it just can’t wait”. She eventually gave in after some well thought out begging and delivered the borrowed book to Joel. He then handed it back to the green-eyed girl who at first didn’t even wanna touch it.

Ellie was convinced you’d purposefully abandoned her– just like everyone else in her life. Her heart was broken and all she had done since that night was play Valorant, high out of her mind, while ignoring the rest of the world. Luckily, Joel noticed the bright yellow peaking from the paper and urged her to crack it open and take a second look. And after a quick thumb of the pages she fell upon your note which practically gave her a heart attack as she read. Ellie instantly dropped the controller at your whim and hopped in the shower to get ready for that night.

✄ - - - -   ♡   - - - -

The girl sported some heather gray Champion sweats and an oversized band tee as she slipped through the back door of her house. She opened the back gate to a small strip of grass that was the space between your house and hers, but just as the clock hit 12:00, the automatic sprinklers shot up to do their duty. Ellie was pinned to the edge of the fence as water began spraying at all points of the yard. There was no way she was getting to your window– at least, not dry. Assessing the situation, the only thing left to do was run straight through the line of fire and hope you were keeping a close ear. 

She bent her knees, digging the toe of her converse into the moist dirt and then bolted over to the glass. Ellie was being pelted left and right as she knocked on your window to be let in, but you were taking your sweet damn time, and those polite taps soon became desperate ones. After about 8 chaotic bangs you eventually opened up, scolding Ellie for the loud noise and then taking note of her current state.

“Sprinklers–” she gasped, out of breath. “You never told me about the sprinklers.” 

“Ellie- oh my god.” you put a hand to your mouth trying not to laugh but miserably failing. She climbed inside, rolling her eyes.

“Hey! I did this for you, fuck off.” 

“Sorry, sorry I know!” You traveled to your closet still laughing as you grabbed a spare towel and clothes. “Sit. Let’s get you changed” you commanded.

Ellie placed herself on the very edge of the bed, eyes locked on your figure. She raised her arms up and peeled off the drenched T-shirt leaving her in a simple sports bra which you couldn’t help but ogle at. Then followed her sweats which stuck to the flesh of her toned thighs before finally dropping at her ankles. She wore the sweetest plaid boxers, and now naked before you, she looked so shy.

Towel in hand, you straddled her knees which dangled off the mattress just slightly. Any thoughts of self doubt had left and all she could think about was you and how close you were to her heat. You ruffed up her dripping locks of hair with the soft linen and soaked up what you could. Ellie’s arms fell back into the bed, trying to fight the urge to grip both of your thighs in her strong hands, right then and there. The silky, sheer pajama shorts adorning those thighs were not helping her case either. 

“There, all better.” you smiled, doing some final scrunches to the ends of her hair. “Wanna put on some dry clothes now?” Ellie gulped down some fear and slipped her hands to your waist.

“No, not really.” she muttered.

“Oh yeah?” you teased, slinging your hands over her shoulders and connecting them at the back of her neck. 

“Yeah.” Ellie affirmed and then slid her hands down to the fat bunching at the crease of your thighs. She pulled forward till your crotch was on hers and breaths became irregular. 

“I missed you Els.” you said, before planting a juicy kiss onto her slightly chapped lips. 

“Missed you too ___” she murmured between lips locking. “I was starting to think you hated me.” You pulled back quickly, both hands on her face. How could you ever dislike someone as perfect as Ellie? And how could you ever let her think that?

“Never baby, never.” you said, smooching the damp hairs on her head. “Let me make it up to you, okay?”

“Okay.” She agreed and the kissing resumed but this time on her neck. Wet, purple marks of your doing sent butterflies to Ellie’s stomach, and as you started to roll your hips her head flew back with a gasp. She quickly caught on, gripping your sides to assist the fervent grinding. Your fingers traveled down her abs, tracing the v-line, before finding themselves in the vats of her boxers. 

“Is this okay Els?”

“Yes, yes please” she gasped. You dipped down further and were greeted with strings of slick and Ellie already bumping against you for pressure. 

You gave a sly smile, “All this for me?” She nodded, almost proud at her quick arousal. “Here lie back and let's take these off. I’m gonna take care of you tonight.” Ellie of course followed in suit, scooching against the headboard and revealing her bare cunt. On all fours, you climbed towards her with the intent to please and only that. She slammed her lips into yours as soon as you were in reach, it was impatient and primal– a side you rarely saw from Ellie. Through breaks of tongue, teeth, and spit you discarded any and all clothes covering your flesh.

The sight of your breasts quickly shifted Ellie’s attention. Goosebumps exploded up your body when she soon took them in her grabby hands. She twisted at your hard nipples as your hands found their way back down to her anticipating folds. Your fingers split between middle and ring then gliding through Ellie’s slick, capturing her bundle of nerves with each pass. The pleasure was indescribable except through the gasps and moans she was making into your mouth. Coated in Ellie, you couldn’t help wiping her mess across the expanse of your tongue and sucking it clean.

“You taste fucking perfect.” you elated and Ellie went red. She wasn’t used to dirty talk like this. In all honesty, she wasn’t used to any of it. But god was she willing to learn. With a short preview of her taste, you inched down to try the real thing. You couldn’t wait any longer and pushed up and open at the girls knees to get a better angle. Her hole clenched in prospect as you playfully ghosted your lips past her clit a couple of times.

Finally taking it between your lips Ellie’s eyes completely rolled back, jaw going slack. You gave a gentle suck before sticking out your tongue to make slow, tight circles. This one really drove her wild which you noted from the arch of her back and guttural moans echoing off the walls.

“Els baby, you gotta be quiet for me.” She whined at your request, however complied. There’s no way you were getting caught with your tongue inside the next door neighbor, but god were her little noises music to your ears. 

Next came your fingers and she squirmed with the insertion of the middle one. You pumped in and out slowly and it was obvious that Ellie was trying her best to keep quiet. She was practically drawing blood from the strong bite she had on her bottom lip, whimpering ever so often.

Rubbing circles at her thigh and adding another finger, you praised, “You’re being such a good girl for mommy.” Ellie’s hips jolted, and olive-colored eyes went wide at the name– something she never thought would turn her on. It was something that had just slipped from your lips, too caught up in the moment, but now that it was out in the air it just made you all the more wet. Your pace picked up and it grew harder to penetrate through the desperate clenches of her walls. You took it as a challenge and added your mouth back into the mix, really trying to push her to the limits.

“Ahh f- fuck” she cursed out with ramblings of your name. Knowing how good you made her feel drove you crazy, and through swipes of tongue and fingers you found yourself grinding into the stiff mattress below. Ellie was obsessed with the way you rocked your hips and even sat up a little bit to get a better view. This, combined with the work you were doing on her core, forced her to the brink of satisfaction. Her stomach sucked in tight, feeling the build-up of pleasure inside. 

“J- just like that, a- almost there-” she sobbed through the wet squelches of her folds.

“You gonna say please for me?” you questioned, slowing down your movements just enough to make her listen.

Stuttering through it she obeyed, “P-please mommy, please c- can I cum?”

“Go ahead baby.” Just hearing those words made you almost gush right along with her so you rewarded the girl with an unfaltering pace. Ellie was right where you wanted her, clenching every muscle at the bliss you so graciously gave her. With your thumb on her clit and fingers curling up to hit just the right spot, she buckled along with attempts to muffle the groans she couldn't hold in any longer.

“Shit, I- I’m cu-cumming.” Her thighs flew shut but you quickly parted them back as you coached her through the euphoric feeling.

“You’re doing so fucking amazing Els.” You planted kisses across her thighs as she rode out her orgasm to a limp state. Ellie had yet to open her eye’s after the second finger and was still coming back down to Earth. Climbing up the bed to lay next to her, you brushed all the hair stuck in the girl's freckles, occasionally giving a slight peck of comfort. She finally fluttered her lids open and her pupils exploded with love. No one had ever taken care of her so well, and she’d thank you for it until the end of time.

✄ - - - -   masterlist   - - - -   ♡

taglist...

@endureher @gold-dustwomxn @alexpritch @4rt3m1ss @robinismywifee @sophlovesbooks @97cityy

(taglist is for all callmelola111 works, if you'd like to be removed just kindly lmk)

#wlw #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams fan fiction #ellie williams series #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #callmelola111 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #tlou #the last of us #tlou 2 #tlou 2 smut #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #tlou ellie #the last of us 2 #tlou series #the last of us ellie

[ddejavvu]

Mei that fratboy!Hotch fic was so good I’m growling 😭 He deserves it I cant even lie to you. If you want to, could you maybe write a part two? Where he grovels a little more and even when he tries to make a move on the Reader, she’s still a little apprehensive?

And you just know Garcias probably already found out what went down between those two in exactly 2 minutes and she just gives Hotch the 😑 every time he walks past her

part 1 // i'm so glad you liked it!! it was definitely a step away from what i usually do hehe // parts of this scene were definitely inspired by the comments on part one! thank you for sharing your ideas with me, i loved writing them <3

--

When Morgan finally gets to his hotel room that night, dialing Garcia is the first thing he does. He takes off his gun while the phone is ringing, and she answers from her bed instead of her desk chair.

"Hello?"

He's filled with fondness at the fact that she's already groggy, probably watching ASMR videos before bed to rid her thoughts of the case they've been working on.

"Hey, babygirl," He greets her, "I need your detective skills."

"But you said you were done for the night," She whines, shifting beneath her blankets, "Derek, when a lady is told she can get in bed, she's going to get in bed. Especially when you tell a lady to get in bed."

He scoffs, "Hey. Keep it PG, PG."

"Whatever," She huffs, "A girl can dream. And a girl was about to dream, until you not-so-kindly called me up and asked me for more help. What is it this time?"

"It's something with Hotch," Derek hums, his belt buckle jingling as he unhooks it with his phone pinned between his shoulder and his cheek, "Remember that cafe you gave us the address to earlier? Where that woman Y/N Y/L/N was working?"

"Yeah," She hums, and Derek signs through his nose.

"Well apparently she and Hotch used to go out."

Derek has a split second to yank the phone away from his ear before Penelope shrieks into it. He barely beats the buzzer, and he can hear her excited squeals all the way from where he'd thrown his phone down onto the bed.

"Alright, alright," He speaks into the receiver, keeping the earpiece away from his head, "Quiet, sweetheart. If you screech that loud Hotch'll hear you."

"That's so exciting," Penelope gushes as Derek slips his jeans down his legs. He steps out of them, leaving them messily on the floor. He'll step right into them tomorrow morning, he doesn't feel the need to clean up. "Did they set up a date or something? Or- or flirt? Or kiss, did they kiss?!"

"Slow down, mama," Derek chuckles, leaning away from the phone just enough to slide his shirt over his head, "No, they were real awkward about it. When we left I asked Hotch and that's when I found out they'd dated."

"He should go in for breakfast tomorrow," Penelope gushes, "That would be perfect!"

"That's what I said," Derek lets his shirt fall to the floor, "But you're not listening to me, baby. Just stop talking for a sec."

"That is not my forte," Penelope warns, "Get to the point, Derek."

"He got really weird about it when I asked him. He was his usual grumpy grouchy self at first, but I guess I asked one too many questions or something, and he snapped. Stopped dead in his tracks, told me to stop talking, slammed the car door, everything. And I thought he was gonna break the steering wheel off on the ride back to the precinct, I swear."

Penelope mulls his words over, and he continues after taking a short breath, "There's something more that he's not telling me, Garcia, and I need you to find out what it is."

"Okay," She breathes, just as eager as Morgan, "Okay, uh- what kinds of questions were you asking?"

"Well, I asked how he knew her, then he said they were dating." Morgan recalls, "Then I told him to go get breakfast down there, and he said things ended 'poorly', whatever that means. And then I said I bet he could still get a date with her if he tried, and that's when he went all stone cold."

"Wait," Derek can picture the sleepy furrow in Penelope's brows, "You said you bet he could get a date with her, and he snapped at you?"

"Yeah, he said some shit like 'don't say that', real cryptic." Derek remembers with a grimace, "What're you thinking?"

There's a tense moment of silence, then Derek is humbled while standing near-naked in a hotel room.

"I'm thinking that you're lucky you can kick down doors," Penelope sighs, "And that you're handsome. Because otherwise I don't think they'd let you work for the government."

Derek's face scrunches in confusion, and he looks at his phone like it's the one insulting him, "What? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should get dressed," Penelope sighs, "Get some sleep, and let me take care of everything."

Derek scoffs incredulously, equal parts fond and exasperated, "Alright, pretty girl. I'll get some sleep. But- hey, what do you mean get dressed? Do you- how did you know I'm not dressed?"

Derek rarely feels the fear of god working for the BAU, but now he feels the fear of Penelope Garcia, "Can you see me?"

She delights in his terror, "No! Well, not now, but you're definitely less careful changing on face time than you should be. I just heard your belt, dummy, and I figured you were getting undressed for the night."

"Penelope," Derek signs shakily, "You are one scary woman."

"Why thank you," Derek can hear the cheesy grin in her voice, and he tugs on pajama pants while she speaks, "I'm going to need to be, to straighten things out with Hotch and Y/N."

"Oh yeah? Gonna show him who's boss, babygirl?"

"I'm gonna give him this really withering stare," She promises emphatically, probably practicing the expression as they speak, "My withering stare is lethal, you should be glad you've never been on the receiving end of it, hunk."

"Sounds terrifying," Derek chuckles, finally fully clothed now, "Alright, thanks Garcia. I mean it, I knew you could figure this out."

"Derek, honey," She croons, "A pigeon could have figured this out."

"Rude." Derek's eyes narrow, "Goodnight, meanie."

"Goodnight, birdbrain," She croons, "I'll keep you updated!"

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner angst