#when they were fishing up nametags | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chestharrington · 7 months

Text

I Think We're Alone Now || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Set in the S3 Starcourt era... Steve develops a fixation on the shopgirl-next-door.

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut || sexual fantasy (includes oral, f and m receiving, p in v sex) and solo masturbation, kind of a panty/lingerie fetish if u squint or even just stare

Word Count: 2.9k

Whoever was in charge of Starcourt Mall planning was a sadist. That was the only explanation as to why a lingerie store was situated directly next door to Scoops Ahoy. Really, what business did it have in a food court of all places?

It also didn’t help that Steve Harrington was in the sex drought of all sex droughts— caused not just because of his stupid uniform, but probably also owed a lot to the fact that he had no college prospects, had lost his proverbial crown to Billy Hargrove, and had been cheated on with Jonathan Byers. Nothing kills a reputation quite like that.

So there he was— showing up to work every day, walking past scantily clad mannequins and shopgirls wearing tight miniskirts, none of whom gave him the time of day when he was dressed like that. Well, none of them except you.

“Good morning, Steve!” You greeted, wearing a tight white button-up shirt with a black pencil skirt. Like a sexy librarian had just walked off the page of a centerfold and decided to work retail. You were lifting the gate from the front of the store and placing a sale sign right between your two shops as he passed.

“You’re opening again?” He asked, pausing in front of his stupid, sticky helljob. You blew a loose piece of hair from your bangs as you stood and nodded.

“And closing. It’s our summer savings sale,” you explained. “You should probably expect a lot of rollover customers. Stop by if you’re in the market for anything. Maybe a nice gift for a girlfriend?” Before he could respond, you gave him a pretty smile as you disappeared into your dimly-lit storefront to finish opening.

You’d gone to high school together, though he doubted you remembered him. You were, after all, a senior while he was just an annoying sophomore on JV Basketball. You were on homecoming court, voted most friendly for senior superlatives, and were probably the hottest girl in your class. He didn’t have a chance then, and he definitely didn’t now.

But you always said hello when he passed by, and you would stop by Scoops sometimes after work and buy a cone of the flavor of the month. He wanted to talk to you more— to actually get to know you beyond a schoolboy crush, but you were so far out of his league that he couldn’t bring himself to try.

When he walked into Scoops, his boss, Allan, had already begun the process of opening. His task of vigorously polishing the glass case of ice cream felt pointless when it was about thirty minutes from being smudged with a toddler’s fingerprints.

“Steven, you’re late,” He said firmly.

Steve glanced towards the clock. “I’m five minutes early.”

Allan slung the rag he was cleaning with over his shoulder and sighed. “In my book, thirty minutes early is on time, and on time is late.”

Steve made a face as he refrained from telling Allan that payroll would disagree. Instead, he put on the stupid sailor hat and pinned on his nametag. And, just because he could, he clocked in early.

His morning was hectic. Like you’d said, there were countless rollover customers who wandered in after the sale next door, each clutching a bag of lingerie and giggling with their friends. His wrist was aching from scooping so much ice cream by the time lunchtime rolled around. He would’ve gone back for his fifteen, but there you were, your hair pulled back in a banana clip, fanning yourself as you stepped into the long line for ice cream.

When you finally reached the counter, you smiled like the two of you shared a secret. “Busy day?” You asked as you fished cash out of your purse.

“It’s been crazy. You?”

You peered up at him and laughed wryly. “God, you wouldn’t believe the number of women in this town who jump at the chance for discounted racy lingerie. I’m drowning in satin and lace today.”

He managed to smile without looking like a complete idiot as he scooped your ice cream, handing it across the counter as you looked at him with amusement.

“You memorized my order? That’s so sweet, Steve.” You handed him a few bills and coins across the counter. “Keep the change, alright? Hopefully I'll see you later.”

His cheeks burned hot. “Yeah, for sure.” He stared dumbly as you licked your ice cream and walked out into the food court.

He needed to find an excuse to buy lingerie from you... if only to have a reason to see you again that day.

��——

It was late afternoon before he got his first break and darted into the lingerie store to the shock and horror of the women inside. He hip-checked a table displaying hosiery before he stopped in front of you, smiling expectantly.

You put down the stockings you were folding and looked at him with amusement. “Steve! What can I help you with?”

“Oh, uh… just…” He floundered as he searched for a reason, then remembered your suggestion that morning— buying for a girlfriend. “My girlfriend.”

“Oh? What’s her name? Maybe I know her.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, before saying the first girl’s name to pop into his head. “Her name is Nancy.”

As soon as your brows furrowed, he knew he fucked up. “Oh, I heard you two broke up, or something.”

He hesitated, mouth open as he tried to find words to dig himself out of the hole. “Oh… no, not that Nancy. It’s a different Nancy. You probably don’t know her.”

You raised your brows, but said nothing to suggest you doubted him. “I can help you find something. What were you thinking?”

He reached back and scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn’t thought this far. “Uh, what would you suggest?”

You considered it for a moment, looking at him carefully. “Well, that depends. Are you buying something she’d like to wear, or something you’d like to see her in?”

Steve blinked dumbly. “Both?”

You laughed lightly and walked towards a table displaying an array of underwear. “So, if you’re going for practical and sexy, I’d recommend panties.” You held up a lacy white pair and his mouth went dry. “A pair like these is pleasing to the eye, but totally invisible underneath clothes.” You stepped back and gave a tiny spin. “I’ve got them on now, and you’d think I wasn’t wearing any. Absolutely no lines at all.”

Steve swallowed hard. Don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t picture it don’t— “Yeah, I’ll take those.”

You chuckled and grinned. “Well, you’re an easy sell. Do you want the matching bra and garter belt to go with that?” You gestured to the mannequin atop the table. “The set is absolutely stunning when worn all together.”

He hesitated, knowing he had no use for any of this stuff. Still, the vision in his mind of you wearing the set was enough to make blood rush south and all rational thoughts leave his brain.

“I really can’t afford the full set,” he finally said after a synapse successfully fired in his brain. “I’ll just, uh, grab her size then.” You nodded and smiled. He had to pretend like he wasn’t thinking of you wearing this same pair, imagining what size would be closest to yours. He grabbed blindly at the folded pairs and retrieved the first ones his hands touched.

“I’ll ring you up! I’ll even throw in our gift wrapping just because I like you so much.” You smiled and guided him towards the register, letting him cut the line of women waiting to pay. After he paid, you handed over a white box with a silky red bow and gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I hope you both enjoy.”

————

The box sat on his bedside table— the proverbial elephant in the room.

God, he thought. You probably thought he was a weird pervert who wanted to wear them or something. Well, he probably would if someone hot enough asked him to, but it wasn’t like he was seeking it out.

His thoughts wandered as they usually did when it was late and he was home alone with nothing (or no one) to do. That night, though, his thoughts were focused solely on you.

He thought about the professional pencil skirt you wore, of lace and stockings beneath. He yearned to peel them off of you with his teeth and bury his head between your thighs, tasting all you had to offer him. He wanted your manicured nails tugging on his hair, scratching his scalp as you cried out in pleasure above him.

He groaned, almost involuntarily reaching down to palm himself over his sweats. Talk about pathetic— even the tiniest mental image made him swell with desire. Fucking dry spell.

“Fuck,” he muttered, bucking into his own grip. Just the lightest pressure made him groan and toss his head back, the expanse of his neck bared. He imagined your pretty mouth pressed against his throat, sucking bruises into his pale skin and felt his cock twitch beneath the confines of his pants.

He was quick to strip off the rest of his clothes, not wanting anything in the way. The dry glide of his hand along his hardening length made him hiss. With clumsy impatience, he reached for the bottle of lube inside of his bedside table, almost empty from solo use, sitting beside a mostly-full box of condoms.

Immediately, the slick sounds of him working his length filled the room— desperate and messy with need. Maybe he could’ve been patient— taken it slower, but he was overcome with lust and a desire for release.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Feels so good— don’t stop, keep goin’ just like that.”

As the words mindlessly slipped past his lips, he knew he was well and truly gone. It was an entirely new level of desperate and horny to dirty talk to the girl you were hot for when she wasn’t even there.

His free hand was splayed across his chest, just resting against the thatch of chest hair where his heart was pounding just beneath his ribs. As his desperation grew, his hand wandered lower, fondling his balls as his other hand squeezed the base of his shaft. A desperate, feral noise escaped his mouth that he’d never even heard himself make before.

He closed his eyes and he could imagine you pulling him into a dressing room, a wanton look in your gaze as you pulled the thin curtain shut, the only semblance of privacy you could get. You’d smile as you stripped off your clothes, only clad in the skimpy lingerie you’d paid for with your employee discount.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet for me, okay?” You’d say as you pulled down his stupid Scoops uniform shorts. “Don’t want to get caught, right?”

He could feel sweat beading at the base of his neck and around his forehead, on his chest, tummy, and thighs. His entire body was burning up as he touched himself, like he was on fire from the inside out.

He’d waste no time kneeling before you— tugging your stockings and panties down and hiking up your skirt so he could slot himself between your legs and taste you. There were few things Steve loved more than eating pussy. There was something about the taste, smell, the sounds that he could elicit with a few deft movements of his tongue. You’d pull his hair and tilt your head back as moans escaped your lips.

He worked his length quickly as he imagined eating you out. His head was thrown back, tongue lolling out of his mouth as short pants escaped him. The slick sounds of lube and the slap of his hand at the base of his cock were pornographically loud. He’d have been embarrassed had he not had the house to himself.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “Wanna make you cum so bad. Wanna taste you.” He could only imagine the pretty sounds you’d make as you came, the way you’d tremble as your knees threatened to give out. He’d wait until you couldn’t take anymore before finally relenting, meeting you with a kiss.

Your hands would be soft. He knew this not just by looking at them, but also from the few times you’d put a hand on his arm when you passed by him in the service hallways. He liked thinking about your hands on him, squeezing him just the way he liked.

“You’re so big, Steve,” you’d say from your knees, peering up at him with big doll eyes. Your hand would glide along his cock— slow, teasing. Your tongue would dart out, kitten-licking his tip before you took him into his mouth entirely.

“Mmm, fuck— feels so good,” Steve cried out, his chest heaving as he continued to work his hand along his cock. “Doin’ so good, taking it all for me. Just like that.”

Steve felt himself nearing his finish and slowed down, practically to a snail's pace to keep from busting early. What was the point of having a sexual fantasy if you finished before getting to the best part?

He returned his attention to the image of you in his mind. How the drool at the corners of your mouth would drip messily, how your eyes would be wet and glossy as his cock bullied its way into your throat. Your free hand would move to cup his balls, heavy and full for you as you kneaded them in your palm.

He’d bring you up to him and give you a kiss for good measure— slow and messy like you had all the time in the world. But he’d get impatient, like he was then to just give in and make himself cum.

He’d press your back against the wall and lift your legs around his waist. You’d still be wet from his mouth, dripping with desire. You’d take him with no resistance at all, just a tight warmth like he belonged there.

He needed more. Just jerking off wasn’t cutting it. He reached out clumsily with his free hand and grabbed the gift-wrapped box from the bedside table and tore at the silky red ribbon so he could knock the top of the box off. He grabbed the white lace panties from within and groaned at the sight.

“Ah!” He got a full-body shiver the moment he wrapped the lace panties around his cock, the fabric soft against his flushed length. They wrap around the head as he sets a fast pace, imagining that they’re yours— the same pair you’d been wearing that day.

“Fuck,” he cried out, bucking up into his fist and the lace. “Holy shit, ‘m cumming. Fuck— fuck—“ He came with a shout, his spend soaking through the white lace, sticky on his hands and dripping down his shaft, pooling at the base.

His breath came in soft pants as he came down, his cock still twitching weakly, rivulets of cum dripping from the slit. “Goddamn,” was all he could manage as he laid limp against his pillows.

He’d made a mess, not just of himself, but of the lace panties he’d spent a day’s paycheck on. He grimaced at the sight of them, completely soiled from his exploits. With more effort than he even felt capable of, he sat up and tossed them into the hamper in the corner of his room.

Afterward, he looked down at himself— the mess of cum and lube left behind. He stood and stretched on slightly weak legs and went to wash off. He’d deal with the shame of it all tomorrow.

————

You were smiling at customers when he came in for his shift the next day, feeling sensitive from the second round he’d put himself through in the shower the previous night… and the quick session he’d had in the morning.

Part of him felt like a perv for thinking about you like that, but then you looked up, saw him, and smiled… and he felt the wariness wash away like it was nothing.

At lunch, he walked into the store, which was far less crowded than it had been the day prior. You saw him and approached with a casual confidence that made him want to crumble to his knees.

“Hi, Steve! Did Nancy like the gift you got her?”

His brow furrowed. “Nancy? We broke up last year.”

You laughed lightly and shook your head. “No, I meant your new girlfriend. The other Nancy.”

He swore internally as he nodded. “Right! Yes. She loved them, actually. She wants another pair.”

“Great, just meet me at the register when you’re done.” You smiled and departed. Steve couldn’t help but stare at your ass in that tight skirt as you walked away.

He grabbed two more pairs— black and red— and approached the counter where you stood. You rang him up without further comment and smiled as you passed the bag and receipt over.

“Come back soon, Steve,” you said with a grin before departing into the back of the store.

That night as Steve was unpacking the bag, he found a small note written on blank receipt paper.

“Steve, if you wanted to talk to me, you didn’t have to buy lingerie for a fake girlfriend to do it. XO” Beneath it, in clear print was your phone number circled twice.

Steve grinned, running his thumb over the note. Maybe his dry spell was going to end sooner than he thought.

#lazyghoulskinktober #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic

567 notes · View notes

howlingday · 1 month

Note

Dark AU: An idea of how to transition into the Dock scene could be Jaune and Penny go into Vale proper to buy things, Penny gets distracted (pet shop with Betta fish on display perhaps?), notices Jaune isn't around and Sun runs into her while running away. As an apology of sorts Sun helps Penny search for Jaune. Meanwhile Jaune was taken by some faunus on orders if spotted for questioning. (He may not have been revealed as the sole survivor to the public but there are ways to find out for an info broker.) Questioning becomes violent when Jaune gives answers they don't like. Brought to the docks heist to be left behind as an example. Somewhat escapes (Roman/Neo taking pity?) as Penny shows up lasers blazing. Aftermath Jaune gains confidence by saving someone, Penny maybe tells Jaune the truth and Sun eats a banana.

Just an option; if taken change how you like.

Also thanks for listening and for the content!

I like your idea, but I think I know just how to tweak in the way I've been looking for...

-------------------------------------------------

"Do you really have to see the betta fish again?"

"Yes, of course!" Penny replied, walking next to Jaune. She couldn't stop herself from shaking with excitement. Her favorite time of the week was to go to the pet store and look at all the beautiful betta fish on display. This had become routine since her arrival at Beacon a few months ago, and it was one that she and her partner had no intention of breaking. "Oh? It's closed?"

"Looks like it's being renovated." Jaune noted from the sign. Oddly enough, there were still pets in the window, including betta fish. "Kinda weird for these animals to be out here where it's so sunny."

Penny didn't respond. She was too engrossed in the elegant dance of the betta fish darting about in their tanks and bowls. Jaune smiled as her green eyes darted from one fish to another within seconds between them.

"Hey, kid." Jaune turned, seeing a man in a black apron. "You lookin' to buy?"

"Oh, no, just browsing." Jaune waved off, quickly dismissing his excited partner behind him. He swore he heard her neck snap.

"You sure?" The man tilted his head down, brow raised. "Maybe you want a pet? Something to keep you calm? Like a cat?"

"No, no, really, I'm sure, Mister..." Jaune narrowed his eyes on the nametag. "...Leon?"

"Well, if you're sure. But would you like to help feed them? Kinda got a lot and my back's been aching all morning."

At this, Jaune's face lit up. This was his chance to do some good for once, instead of just sitting around and wallowing in his own self-pity at Beacon. And huntsmen did help those in need, right? Jaune gave a nod.

"We'd be happy to help, right, Penny?" He turned to see his partner didn't respond, too engrossed by an especially red and blue fish. "Well, I'd be happy to help." He got closer to his partner. "Hey, Penny? I'm going to help feed some animals. I'll be inside, okay?"

"Mm..." Penny said, though it may not have been in reply to him.

Giving a shrug, Jaune followed the man inside. The inside was warm and dark, with no lights or any kind of air conditioning on. Were the animals really okay in this kind of environment? It didn't seem safe.

"So, uh, where are the animals?" Jaune asked as he entered the room in the back.

"It's faunus!" Everything went loud and dark. All of a sudden, Jaune couldn't feel anything. Not even the throbbing swelling lump on his head.

----------------------------------------------------

"Okay, I think I lost them- ACK!"

Penny fell to her side as a young man was straddled over her. His shirt was unbuttoned and wide open, showing off his toned abs while a golden tail swirled from his torn-up jeans. Penny gave a blink a couple of times before she realized what had happened.

"Oh, excuse me!" She said. "I'm sorry if I was in your way."

"Nah, nah, it's cool." The monkey faunus pulled himself to his feet before lending a hand. Penny took it and quickly rose to stand. "Sorry about that. I was just running away from some, uh..." She scratched his head. "Uh, nevermind. The name's Sun Wukong! What's your name?"

"I am Penny Polendina, and this is... Jaune?" Penny turned, looking around. "Jaune?"

"Is Jaune your pet?"

"He is my assigned partner at Beacon Academy."

"Oh, you're going to Beacon? Same! I'm from Haven Academy!"

"I see! Where is your team?"

"They'll get here eventually. I took the fastest way I knew!"

"You abandoned your team?"

"Ah, they'll understand." Sun waved her off. "So, uh, where'd this Jaune partner or yours go? He ditch ya?"

"He would not ditch me. He could not ditch me."

"Oh..." Sun clicked his cheek. "You guys are like that, huh?"

"He is my partner, and I am his. It is up to me to ensure his mental state does not diminish to critical levels."

"Uh... huh..." Sun walked around. "Well, if you guys are that close, then he probably didn't get far." He pointed to the pet store. "You think he's in here?"

"Unlikely." Penny answered. "The building is being renovated."

"With the door wide open and nobody inside?" Sun entered the building, followed by Penny. "Seems kinda weird, not gonna lie." He sniffed. "Wait." He sniffed again. "Oh no..."

Sun quickly rounded the empty cages to the counter, tossing the door aside. Looking down, he could see a clean floor, but his nose didn't lie. Following it to the closet in the back, he found a person laying inside, unconscious.

"The shopkeeper!" Penny shouted. She swiftly turned and ran for the back room. "Jaune?!"

"Ah, hell..." Sun groaned. "The last thing I'd want is to get the cops involved, but it looks like that's what's gonna happen." Sun picked the phone off the counter but set it down when there was no dial tone. "Lights out, hot as Vacuo, and no phone service? There's a lot wrong with this picture."

"Sun! I have found something!" Sun jumped the counter, running to the back room where Penny stood. The inside looked to be a garage with an open door to the back alley. There were skid marks on the ground and a white flag held aloft in the girl's hands. "I think I know who has Jaune."

On the flag was a familiar red symbol of a beast and claw marks.

----------------------------------------------------

"Where is Jaune now?!" Glynda screamed as she paced the floor of the headmaster's office. "You don't know is not an acceptable answer, Miss Polendina. Jaune Arc is your partner, which means he is your-"

"Glynda!" She flinched, looking to Professor Ozpin. The look on his face was a rare instance of anger. He seldom showed it, which meant it wasn't an emotion to be taken lightly from him. "Hand me the scroll. Focus on finding Jaune from here and ensuring all students are back at Beacon Academy."

"Yes, Headmaster." She gulped, handing over the scroll. "Excuse me, I didn't-"

"You're scared. It's understandable, Glynda." The way he used her first name to calm her down worked, though only a little. "But fear is not what we should be using to respond to this. Now do as you were instructed." With a nod, she left the office, tapping on her personal scroll. "Miss Polendina, this is your headmaster speaking. Remain calm and explain to me what has happened."

Ozpin sat and listened, simultaneously coordinating with police and huntsmen across Vale to find his missing student. This wasn't the first time a student went missing, nor could he hope it would happen be the last. But there was one thing he would do if his power allowed. Jaune Arc would not die. His first years for the current semester may have been single digit numbers, but they would not drop lower than they'd already had.

"Can you determine which direction the tires were going?" He asked, at the same time updating the mission board for the responding huntsmen to read. "Have you contacted the authorities? Are they with you now?" Thankfully, the woman and the animals in the store were alive, though blunt force trauma to the former and heat injuries to the latter hardly constituted as 'and well'. "And you say a student from Haven Academy is present with you?" This would be the most awkward task, since that meant he'd have to explain to Leonardo that one of his students had arrived in Vale months early for the Vytal tournament.

Unfortunately, with all these questions being answered, too many were still left unknown as they appeared. Why was the White Fang in Vale? Why would they kidnap Jaune? And most importantly, where had they taken him?

"Ozpin!" Professor Goodwitch slammed open the door to his office. "We've found him."

----------------------------------------------------

"Good evening, I'm Lisa Lavender. Tonight, for our top story, we have an interview with the student who survived the initiation of the mass student deaths at Beacon Academy, Jaune Arc." She smiled to him. "Thank you for coming to us, Jaune."

"N-No problem." Jaune gulped. When he woke up, men with bone-white masks pointed guns at him and told him to stay where he was. One of them had pointed ears on his head and the other had a tail curled over his belt.

"Now, Mr. Arc, I understand this is a very difficult topic to discuss, but the audience would appreciate if you could tell us what happened to you at Beacon Academy."

"Uh..." He glanced to the side, where the camera was looking right at him, but not as threateningly as the man next to it holding a gun. With a shaky breath, he made the choice to relive that horrible day. "I... I left for Beacon Academy and when I got there, I..." He gave a chuckle. "I threw up in the trash as soon as I got off the bullhead. A little while after, I met a girl who was in a crater. I... I think it was a dust explosion. She... She told me her name was Ruby."

Jaune's throat dried up, but he kept talking because if he stopped talking, what was going to happen? He'd get shot? He'd die? Telling this woman, the people in the room, and if the camera was any indication, the whole world, everyone was listening to him. However, the next part of the story was the worst part.

"I... I watched as Ruby, she..." He swallowed, feeling tears well in his eyes. "She wasn't as old as me, so seeing her like..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, do I have to keep going?" He looked to the woman with tears spilling from his eyes.

"Only if you want to." She placed a hand on his.

He flinched as the gun racked, reminding him of who was really in charge.

"I-I-I..." He shuddered. "One girl was tossed over the side of the cliff. I listened as she screamed until I couldn't hear her anymore."

"Do you remember who it was?"

"It... It was the girl with the white hair."

"Do you mean Weiss Schnee, the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company?" He nodded. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "A tragedy felt just as tenderly as everyone else who'd perished that day."

He could hear one of the gunmen give a chuckle.

"My partner and the blond girl... I think one of them was Ruby's sister... They... They both died to the big scorpion one."

"The Deathstalker." She nodded. "And your partner was Pyrrha Nikos, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, she... She helped unlock my aura."

"You entered Beacon without your aura unlocked?" She sounded genuinely caught off guard. "What would possess you to do something so dangerous?"

"I..." He sniffed, glad to be away from the topic, if even for a little bit. "I wanted to prove myself. I was a nobody, and I just... I didn't want to be a nobody forever. A disappointment."

"Well, Jaune, I have to say that what you did was, in my personal opinion, the most selfish, stupid thing you could have done." Jaune's eyes widened. "People have dedicated their lives to training and honing their bodies, their skills, their mental fortitudes so that they can protect innocent people from the horrors of the Grimm, and you attended Beacon because you, 'wanted to prove yourself,' if I'm using your words right. People are dead, Jaune, and how exactly did you survive?"

"I... I went into the caves and..."

"And you hid." Lisa venomously spat. "Like a coward. Weiss Schnee is dead, Jaune. Pyrrha Nikos is dead. Ruby is dead. Every single one of those students is dead because you couldn't act. Because you didn't have the training to do what innocent people would be counting on you to do if you did make it as a huntsman." She threw her arms in the air before folding them. "What did you expect to happen, Jaune? That you and these girls would go to the academy, be best friends, and then just spend the rest of your life going on adventures as a huntsman?" She jabbed a finger at him. "The world isn't a fairy tale, Jaune. People fight and die because the Grimm are monsters who won't stop until we're all dead. But you wanted to prove yourself? Well, I think you've proven yourself well enough... as a coward."

Jaune... did nothing. What could he do? He'd just been slandered to people all over Remnant. His parents, his teachers, complete strangers just heard him get broken down by this woman and called a coward for all the tears he shed. And the worst part of it all was that she was right.

Jaune fled with that girl into the caves after the others died. He didn't have any power to stand against those giant monsters those girls died to, and he thought he could come into Beacon at the same level they did. He was a sham, a fraud. Every word said against him was the truth, and he just had to sit there and accept it.

"I'm Lisa Lavender. Thank you for watching."

"And cut!" The world became loud around Jaune as people moved this direction and that, leaving him seated in his chair. Lisa Lavender had already left the room, though not before shaking her head and scoffing in disgust.

"Come on, kid."

Jaune was grabbed by the shoulder and shoved. He looked up and saw the bone-white mask with red marks. Suddenly, the person in the mask didn't look or sound like a person, but like a monster, growling at Jaune as he fell over, kicking himself away across the floor and to the wall. It gave a bellow, roaring at him to no move. Breathing quickened, fingers twitching, Jaune wanted to let out a scream but couldn't figure out how. Fear attracted the Grimm and his body was in a panic, set to remain frozen so he wouldn't be bothered. The Grimm bellowed a chant.

"One! Two! Three!" Light flashed, and Jaune shut his eyes to not see the girl's face. When he opened his eyes, a different girl was looking right at him.

"P...Penny?"

"S-Sal-u-tations, Jaune!" She cheerily replied. "Do you... require assistance?"

"Surrender your weapons!" Another familiar voice called. "You're all under the custody of Vale Huntress Goodwitch!"

"Over here!" A blond boy waved over to the pair.

As they started moving towards him, a gunshot was heard, making Jaune flinch and fall to the floor. He could feel himself sliding before hands grabbed him by his cheeks and green eyes filled his vision. "Jaune, it is okay. I am here!"

"Penny?" He grunted, blinking before shaking his head. "I'm... I'm good. Thank you, Penny." The students met up through the doors, Jaune panting as he leaned against the wall. "Who... Who are you?"

"Name's Sun." He said. "You're Jaune, right? Penny's told me about you."

"Yeah. Did sh-" Jaune stopped as he looked at Penny, who had her back to him. She'd been shot, but where there should have been a wound, or maybe even nothing because of aura, there was an indent in her body. Like bent metal. Jaune's feet gave out under him and he fell into the black again.

----------------------------------------------------

"Heck of a performance you did, Miss Lavender."

"Thank you, Roman." The woman on his scroll said. "And really, thank you for providing me with that interview. I'm sure to get an award for that one."

"Anytime, sweetheart." He grinned. "Your news special was just thing we needed to get these schmucks to look somewhere else tonight."

"Will there be a story for me to report tomorrow?"

"Isn't there always?" He chuckled. "I'll deliver my appreciation with the flowers." With a tap, the call had ended, and Roman reveled at all the dust him and his boys had managed to haul from the docks. Walking out of the warehouse, he lit up his cigar, taking a few puffs. "And they say there's nothing original on the news."

#rwby #jaune arc #penny polendina #sun wukong #lisa lavender #dark au #ozpin #glynda goodwitch #roman torchwick

63 notes · View notes

dingochef · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Angst with a Happy Ending, Stalking, P in V, oral (female and male receiving), Semi-public sex, light spanking,

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: A girl's night out gets steered in a different direction, much to your disgruntlement. You meet the human version of a Ken doll, who happens to be a Naval Aviator and are not impressed.

Masterlist

Chapter 1: Lieutenant Mansplain

You're on your way back from the bathroom when you see that the table you left your two friends at is now empty. Scanning around the bar you spot Lydia’s unmistakable red hair in a sea of khaki clad bodies around the pool table. This was supposed to be a stereotypical “Girls Night Out” to help soothe Beth’s (the other friend lost to military uniforms and god knows what else) recently broken heart.

You were looking forward to it after the week you had at work. The good news was that the latest Darkstar prototype had made it Mach 10, the bad news was that it vaporized somewhere over the Sierra Nevada mountains. By some divine reason or mostly the life preservation pod that you had worked months on worked exactly as designed and the pilot survived without injury. The pod had worked a lot better than the heat shielding had. Such was life working for Lockheed Martin's legendary Skunk Works. The cutting edge of aircraft design meant big successes and failures.

Instead, Lydia has turned it into a fishing expedition, the girl has a serious military kink and was probably drawn in by some tractor beam to all the uniforms, nametags, and those ribbon thingies you can never remember the correct name for. Sighing deeply, you walk up to the bar and catch Penny’s attention for another gin and tonic, you're going to need it for the long extraction mission that awaits you around the pool table. As you wait, you look over and see the usual pilot stereotypes, (yup, they’re pilots - unmistakable with gold wings on their chest and aviator sunglasses hanging from their collars.) Posted up in the corner on a bar stool messily eating popcorn is the only guy wearing glasses; you peg him as a flyover state guy who probably married his highschool sweetheart. Most likely a WSO, he seems too unassuming to be a pilot. Beth is talking to him more out of boredom than anything other motivation. She's watching Lydia work her magic out of the corner of her eye. Leaned over the pool table is a brunette gal with her hair pulled back into a bun so severe it makes your head ache in sympathy looking at it; she’s got a coy smile on her face as she sinks the last ball to win the pool game. The vibe she gives off is all confidence with a touch of “I’ll be nice and not kick your ass” along with a bit of sweetness.

You'll probably get along well. She is rolling her eyes at Lydia’s attempt to engage a rather tall guy with scrubby hair and an unexplainable mustache out of a porno from the 70s. He had to have lost a bet to have that mustache, right? Whatever Lydia is rolling out, this guy is reeling in. Odds are 3:1 that Lydia will fuck that guy in the back of her Subaru before the night is over. You make a mental note to ask if she brought condoms next time you get near her.

Thankfully your G&T slides across the bar to your waiting hand. Penny leans over and says over the classic rock blaring out of the jukebox, “Lydia’s up to it again, you want to bet on it?” You roll your eyes and laugh darkly,

“Not this time, it’s already a done deal the way they’re looking.”

The pornstacher (as he has been named in your head) has his hands on Lydia’s hips and is leaning down to whisper something in her ear. You shake your head, grab your drink, and take a hefty pull from the only thing that is going to make this next hour of your life bearable. Penny shouts over the noisy bar, “Good luck!”

“Here we go again,” you mutter to yourself as you make your way over to the corner.

Walking over to the pool table to hopefully get your friends back on track for the original mission which was supposedly to include too many girlie shots, trash talking men, and some karaoke if you made it that far before needing to call an Uber. Lost in your thoughts, you collide with another form wearing the ubiquitous khaki. Before you know it, your drink, your liquid sanity is now dripping down the front of your shirt and onto the very broad chest of a very tall blond man with freakishly green eyes.

“God damn it,” you shout. It’s your go to swear of choice. The blond guy steadies you with hand on your upper arm and says with a noticeable twang,

“Well that’s one way to guarantee I buy the prettiest gal in here a drink, let me get you a new one. What’s your poison?”

The way he smiles after what he thinks is his witty retort is straight from a 1950s toothpaste commercial. You can hear the “ding” and almost see the animated sparkle. You roll your eyes, and say,

“I’ll take a replacement, thank you. Just know that’s the only drink you’ll be buying me tonight. Gin and Tonic, tell Penny it’s for Elsa and she’ll know which gin to use.”

He laughs, “Ice queen in name and presence.

"I loathe that movie with an undying passion."

“Well, Icy, I’ll be back in a few and we can get to know each other a little bit better.” He smiles that damn toothpaste commercial smile again and heads over to the bar.

Finally, you reach Lydia and she is just starting to reel in pornstacher with her usual playbook. Laughing too loud at jokes that can't possibly be that funny, her silly little slap to his chest that lingers a bit too long, leaning way too far in to hear what he’s saying. It’s a really well defined plan, she could package it and sell it given her success rate.

“Hey, Lydia!” you shout over the music, some bastard has played Slow Ride for the second time in 20 minutes. She leans out from the bar stool she’s sitting on while the pornstacher's hands still are attached to her waist.

“Elsa! Glad you found us! Here, meet everybody!” she says like she’s greeting you at the door for a dinner party. Lydia definitely had the social talent to get people together wherever she went.

She nods at pornstacher,

“This is Rooster, he’s a pilot.”

You're not sure if Rooster is a better name for him in your head. He nods at you in recognition. She points over to flyover state guy and says,

“That’s Bob, he’s a wizzo-wizard thingy.”

Rooster laughs as she trips over the words partly because she gives zero fucks about what he actually does and her third or fourth cosmo is definitely hitting her.

“At the pool table, that’s Phoenix, next to here is Coyote, then Fanboy, and Payback.”

“Do any of these people have names that aren’t from American Gladiators?”

She giggles way too long and then says in mock exasperation,

“They’re call signs, silly.”

You dryly respond,

“I know what call signs are, Lydia. Remember my dad was a pilot?”

You look upwards for some kind of divine strength to endure whatever this all is. You wonder where your drink is and scan the bar for the human Ken doll that owes you a G&T. The way Lydia is attached to Rooster you know this is going to be a long night and you're glad you live within walking distance of the Hard Deck. On cue a deep voice says,

“Here you go, little lady. Penny knew exactly what you wanted.”

He takes a swig of his beer, and asks,

“So your dad was a pilot? Who’d he fly with?”

You move past your irritation of the phrase, little lady. It’s true you're definitely short at a whole 5’1" without heels. Tonight you've got a pair that at least gets you to a respectable 5’5”, which is still nowhere near tall enough to be eye to eye with this guy.

You breezily say,

“The Navy.”

He nods,

“Well that’s good not sure I could be seen with someone not of the proper lineage.” He starts in with the usual rapid fire “get to know you” questions,

“Where are you from?”

“Michigan,” you offer no other information.

"You?"

"Texas."

“What brings you here tonight?”

“It was supposed to be a girl’s night out to help Beth,” you cock your head to Beth where she and Bob are showing each other pictures of their dogs, you assume.

“She got dumped by some asshole Marine a few days ago."

He mutters,

"Figures."

"However, Lydia has taken us on a different path,” you point to Lydia where she and Rooster are proving that personal space isn’t necessary. you give it 10 minutes before she and Rooster will try to discreetly leave the bar for other activities. “And that leaves me talking to you while I finish my drink and can hopefully go home and call this night over.”

“Ouch, am I really that bad to look at and talk to?”

He puts on a mock frown for a second that he is confident makes him look cute before putting on his toothpaste commercial smile.

“I don’t even know your name and I'm not sure I even need to. I’m at the point of the evening where my feet hurt from these stupid heels and I’m really just ready to go home, take my bra off, put on some comfy pants, and watch some shitty TV before I fall asleep. It's been a week at work."

You finish your rant with a hefty swig of your drink. The mention of your bra coming off distracts him for a split second before he says,

“Well, I can solve one of those problems, the name’s Hangman.”

“Hangman, do you have a name that doesn’t sound like a cartoon character?”

He laughs just hard enough that you can see the beginnings of laugh lines at the edge of his eyes.

"Yes, my real name is Jake, Lieutenant Jake Seresin at your service, maam."

“Okay, Jake. I’ve got a question for you. What’s the deal with pornstache, Rooster, or whatever the fuck his name is? Lydia’s definitely putting out her trap line and he’s hooked on. Good guy, creeper, weirdly close relationship with his mother, kicks puppies, or punches nuns? Anything Lydia should be on the lookout for?”

He laughs again, and says,

“Naw, Rooster is mostly harmless. I’m surprised he’s as bold as he is tonight, must be a bit of liquid courage. That’s how he got his call sign. He can be kind of a chicken shit in the air, and the powers that be wouldn’t let us put “Chicken Shit” as his official call so sign so it had to be amended to be rated G. As for him being horrible,I can attest he leaves cabinet doors open and those awful mustache hairs all over the bathroom as I have the unfortunate luck of being his roommate for this assignment.”

"My condolences. What about Bob, over there?”

“He is either the most bland person ever to exist or a serial killer, I can’t figure it out. From one of those corn states Iowa, Nebraska, or whatever.” You were correct on his point of origin.

This thought makes you laugh as you see Bob and Beth talking a little more animatedly about something that you can't make out from across the pool table. She’s smiling and actually looks like she’s having a good time, so you resolve to stick it out for a while for Beth’s sake.

"He married?" you ask in case you need to intervene before Beth's heart is engaged.

The thought makes him almost spit out his beer.

"Nope. Can you imagine anyone wanting to have sex with him?"

You nod in agreement. Beth is now leaning in closer to Bob and her hand is inching closer towards his on the drink rail.

Damn, you'll actually have to make some conversation while you wait this wing-woman assignment out. You have no worries about Lydia, she’s going to do exactly who or what she wants. Beth worries you a little more, she is so tender hearted and kind that any time she cries you're ready to crack open your chest and give her a piece of your heart, despite it being described as “Colder than the dark side of the planet Pluto,” by an ex boyfriend. Of course you had to remind him that Pluto hasn't been a planet since 2006. The relationship was definitely done, so any bit of mental superiority you could keep was a bonus.

“So, I take it you’re a pilot,” you wave your hand vaguely at the wings on his chest. “What do you fly?”

“Airplanes.” He answers without any further detail. You roll your eyes.

“I gathered that. What kind of plane? You lugging cargo for the Navy, cruising around in a radar rig, or something more exciting?”

“I didn’t think you’d know the difference, most people don’t. I fly a F-18.”

“Nice. Good aircraft. Too bad it's made by Boeing."

The whole sentence flies past Jake's head without any notice. You had hoped that might start a discussion about the plane. You're always interested in hearing from the people who actually end up flying your designs. The moment passes and when Jake's beer has been emptied, he leans out and calls to the group to see if they or anyone else is in need of a refresh. A few raise their hands in agreement. You still have over half of your drink left so you shake your head back and forth when he points to you.

He returns beers in hand and instantly reappears at your side. The second half of G&T Number One is spent discussing the climate differences of Michigan versus California versus Texas. The conversation transitions into other vanilla topics. You find that he shares a love of baseball and football.

You discuss the Padres season in great detail. That brings you to the bottom of your drink. You take a look around to get a status check on your friends. Lydia is now almost sitting on Rooster's lap, Beth is still talking with Bob and sharing a basket of popcorn. She looks content, so you resign yourself to another drink.

G&T Number two finds you discussing books with Jake, not a subject you expected to talk about tonight.

"I read a lot of nonfiction, history, aviation and military history, the natural world. I like learning things."

He responds,

"There's only so much tv I can watch when I'm at sea, so reading a book is a nice break. I prefer a good whodunnit or cheesy mystery novel. The trashier the better."

"So, no life changing literature?"

He nods and finishes off his beer. You're starting to notice that his pace is about twice that of yours. A bit of quick math in your head determines his BAC is definitely in the tipsy territory heading towards sloppy.

He returns with a new beer and a few tequila shots for the group. Jake offers one to you and you respond,

"Hard pass."

He shrugs and takes the shot and moves to the rest of the group.

G&T Number three is spent playing a game of pool with the rest of the group. More shots come out and you see Jake go back to the bar a few times for another beer. Jake uses the opportunity to lean over you to "help improve your technique". You enjoy the smug thought that he will likely be hungover tomorrow.

The pool game finishes and you're in a good mood finally, just the right side of tipsy. There's about an inch of your drink left and you're planning on heading out soon.

Jake is instantly close and looming over you. He is very tall compared to you and he reminds you of a giraffe the way he stretches his neck down to talk to you. His drunkenness adds a slow loll to his presence. You decide to throw out an easy question to round out the night,

"So, tell me about being a fighter pilot."

He hears the question and you can almost see the brain cells connecting and searching his memory bank for something to say.

“It's a great gig. It's always amazing to me that those giant machines get up in the sky somehow," he responds in what feels like a very practiced way.

"You know how planes fly, Elsa?”

“Yes, I actually have a–” you're interrupted by Jake and you suddenly feel an episode of mansplaining with a heavy side of drunk confidence coming on. He grabs your drink from your hand and places it on the rail next to where you're standing. He gently grabs your upper arms and rotates you around so your back is against his chest.

“Here, put out your arms.”

You decide to play along for the eventual reward this conversation is going to bring. Out your arms go. He mirrors your arms with his and starts the most definitely memorized spiel.

“It all works on how the wings are shaped, air goes faster over the top of the wing than the bottom of the wing because of the way it’s shaped, kind of like a teardrop on its side. That creates the lift to get us in the air. Follow me?”

You nod, playing dumb for now. He takes his hands and moves them to your waist and continues,

“That’s not enough though to get flying so we need to add thrust in the form of an engine."

He has moved close enough behind you that you feel the not so subtle surge of his crotch against your ass when he says the word “thrust”. Your eyes begin to roll at how cheesy this whole situation is.

“And then wham-bam-thank-you-maam, we’re up in the air and flying.”

As he says “up in the air”, he picks you up off the floor. At this point, you're done, no matter how many gin and tonics you've had and no matter how good he smells, this is such a silly act you can't take it anymore. You turn your head, and say flatly,

“You can put me down, now.”

He obliges and you can see the mental calculus of him trying to determine how successful this party trick of his has been. The smug shit eating grin on his face makes what you're about to say even better.

During this time, Lydia has stopped weaving her web around Rooster, to lean out and see the look on your face, the eye rolls, and your general impatience with the routine that she is curious what you'll say next.

You turn around to face Jake, and you begin your rebuttal,

“Do you get a lot of women to drop their pants for you with that demonstration? Decent explanation. If we’re going for 4th grade level science, but that might be as far as you got, who knows. You did leave out a few important factors including the effects of drag, aircraft weight, pressure differential over the wing, you know the basics.”

You hold up your hand ticking each item off on your fingers to emphasize your point.

His face freezes with one eyebrow arched up in alarm. This is where Lydia lets out her trademark guffaw cackle, and says,

“You didn’t ask what she does for a living, did you?”

Rooster has turned around and is looking satisfied that Hangman is going to go down in flames right there on the bar floor.

“No, why does that matter?” he croaks out, moderately alarmed.

“I’ve got a Phd in aerospace engineering from Stanford and work for Lockheed Martin, you jackass."

Jake's eyebrows continue to rise and his face pales. You take a breath and continue,

"If you hadn’t interrupted me in the first place or even listened to a god damn thing I've said in the last two hours you might have picked that up. Like who else would know who makes an F-18, or who else would read a lot of aviation history books? You could have saved yourself some embarrassment. I design shit you haven’t even had the chance to fly yet or maybe won’t ever be granted the privilege of flying.”

You emphasize your last point by jabbing your finger into his chest just left of his gold wings.

At this point the whole khaki crowd has stopped and is now listening to this exchange. Snickers start to form around the pool table as Jake flushes with embarrassment.

He stammers, “I didn’t know…I’m sorry.”

You wave off his half ass apology with a dismissive hand flick,

“It’s okay, you keep trying that shtick and see who you can get into the sack with it. Don’t worry your little pretty head about it. It’s been an evening and I think I’m going to head out. Beth - Lydia?”

Beth replies,

“I’m good here for a few more minutes, I’ll text you when I get home.”

Somewhere in this moment Lydia has moved into the final phase of her plan. You can hear her whispering in Rooster’s ear,

“Want to go somewhere a little more quiet?”

He nods enthusiastically like a kindergartner and grabs his beer as Lydia catches his hand and leads him towards the exit. As she passes, you catch her arm for a quick second and lean in to whisper,

“You prepared? I’ve got some condoms in my purse if you need them.”

She winks and pats her own purse,

“All ready to rock and roll,” she whispers back,

"I think this guy is going to need a Magnum, lucky me!”

And with that bit of info Lydia has practically dragged Rooster out the door and is gone before you can even think to close your tab.

You leave Jake gaping like a fish out of water near the pool table and head out to close out your tab. Penny leans in as you sign the credit card receipt, and says,

“That was stone cold, sister, he’s not a bad guy, mostly the ego that comes with pilots, but you might find he’s got more beneath the surface.”

You sigh and reply,

“Yeah, the presentation is good, but man, does the delivery and content need some work. See ya around, Penny.”

You're back at home in a loose hoodie from your undergrad years at Notre Dame, no bra, and comfy pants and with opening credits of Bridgerton rolling within 15 minutes.

Chapter 2

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

#top gun fanfiction #hangman fanfiction #top gun maverick #hangman x you #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #hangman #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun smut

182 notes · View notes

seattlesolace · 2 years

Text

cherry wine // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: barista!jay x fem!reader

summary: desperate to find a plus one for your sister's wedding, you ask out the cute barista who works at the cafe you frequent.

content: sfw, fluff

word count: ~1k

for tropetember -- 06/09 boyfriends for hire // tropetember masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The journey to your office was unusually tiring today, probably because of the lack of sleep you got the night before. You decided to stop by a café that just opened a couple of months ago which was strategically located on your way to your office.

“Hi,” the barista greeted you with a smile. You noticed the slits in his eyebrow, the many piercings he had on both ears, and the tattoo sleeve covering his right arm. He was wearing a khaki long sleeve that was rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was blonde and slightly long. An apron was covering his dark brown pants and he patted both hands on it as he greeted you. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll just have a pain au chocolat and an iced latte, please,” you fished for your card wallet inside your bag.

“Can I have your name?” He asked as he gave you back your card. He then took a cup and a sharpie, ready to write on your drink.

“It’s Y/N.”

“Alright, Miss Y/N. I’ll call you when your order is ready,” he smiled again to you and you thanked him before walking away to pick a seat.

Since then, you made stopping by the café a regular thing. You purposefully left the house earlier to have more time to go there, and even the cute barista has memorized your name. You would spend just under twenty minutes there for your morning coffee, and you would always clean up after yourself, making sure you left no crumbs or spills. Every time the barista saw you picking up your bag and ready to leave, he would always shout out ‘have a good day, Miss Y/N!’, and you always responded with a smile and a wave.

---

One day, you arrived at the café fairly early, and you saw the cute barista munching on something while jotting down some notes. When he noticed you looking at him, he chuckled and quickly chewed, wiping his fingers on his apron before greeting you with a smile.

“Sorry to disturb your breakfast,” you beat him to greeting you first.

He quickly swallowed and took your order. “What pastries have you tried here?” He asked, gesturing to the display in front of you.

“Just these two,” you pointed at the one nearest to you. You then noticed that he was cutting a freshly baked croissant into bites. He picked up the little tray and served it to you, making you take the bigger piece.

“Try this,” he said, and as you carefully ate the piece in one bite, he observed your face trying to get a reaction out of you. “Is it good?”

Of course you nodded, you weren’t going to let down the cute barista. He then mentioned that it was a new menu they were trying to sell, which is why he was testing it. You got your drink in an instant and as you sat down at your usual table, you sighed in annoyance when you saw the notification in your family’s group chat.

Your sister’s wedding was in two weeks, and unfortunately you were born into a family who would always be nosy and ask if you had a boyfriend of your own. You had to bring a plus one, but all your guy friends weren’t available for the date. You finished your morning coffee and was about to leave when you hear the barista call out your name again.

“Thanks for coming, Miss Y/N!”

You turned your heel and walked back to the counter. The barista instantly reacted and took a few steps to meet you there. You glanced at his shirt and saw the nametag he was wearing.

“Hey,” you read his name quickly before looking up at him again. “Jay.”

“Is there anything you need?” Jay asked, wiping one hand on his apron.

“I need a plus one for a wedding,” you blurted out, thinking there was no easy way to state the request. “My family is gonna flip out if I come alone, but I don’t have anyone to bring, and if you want I can even pay you for your time. You’ll be like a hired boyfriend. A boyfriend for hire. I don’t know. Will you?”

---

Jay turned out to be a great pretend-boyfriend. His customer service skills translated into the way he interacted with your family members, cruising through each conversation with such ease. You were relieved that you didn’t have to take the lead since he was so good at acting, and his performance was so believable that for a second it really felt like he was your boyfriend.

It wasn’t just the things he said, it was how he said it and how he carried himself around you. You mentioned that he was allowed to do anything to make their relationship believable, so whenever he was walking by your side he would put his hand on the small of your back, and when the wind blew a little too hard he would tuck the strands of your hair behind your ear. You didn’t think much about it until it was time for dancing. You had excused yourself to go to the bathroom but never made your way back to your table.

You were standing on the dock that leads toward the lake near the venue. Jay found you and immediately made himself comfortable, standing next to you as you looked at him, puzzled.

“Am I doing a great job?” Jay asked you, fixing his tie and standing up straight.

You chuckled and looked down. “You are.”

“One last thing to do,” Jay cleared his throat before reaching out his hand. You tilted your head in confusion and he responded with a whisper. “Dance.”

As if he needed to prove himself more, Jay guided you to the dancefloor and spun you around like a princess, making you feel more confident in your amateur dancing skills. He held you tight enough to not let you fall, but also loose enough to give you comfort and respect your boundaries.

By the time the song ended, your cheeks flushed red and you were unsure if it was because of the amount of cherry wine you drank or because you were in close proximity to Jay. All you know is that when Jay asked if he could see you again after the wedding, as actual acquaintances and not fake lovers, you couldn’t find a way to say no.

-END-

tropetember authors: @vivvys @nyanggk @aira-mai

for more tropetember, click on the hashtag below

the masterlist for my tropetember entries will be updated regularly

#writtenbynana #tropetember #fic: cherry wine #enhypen #jay #enhypen jay #jay fluff #enhypen jay fluff #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #jay park #park jay #jongseong #jongseong park #park jongseong

208 notes · View notes

shares-a-vest · 1 year

Text

Fruity Four Advent Calendar, Day 7: Coffee Shop AU but make it festive

Prompt List

It’s Christmas 1999 and Steve and Robin work in an internet cafe. They are just two dorks, slinging coffee beans and helping hapless old ladies with their computer problems, all the while fawning over a rockstar and a star reporter, respectively.

I had intended on making this waaay longer but I’ve got total writer's block/brain-mush happening right now (I'm surprised I managed to get something together to post, actually). So if this a totally meh, I'm sorry, please ignore me.

'A Very Y2K Christmas'

"Hey! Earth to dingus!"

Steve snaps out of his lovesick trace at the sight of his co-worker Robin clicking her fingers directly in his face.

"Any more ogling that leather-clad weirdo and you'll curdle that milk," she adds, reaching up to tug his dorky felt Christmas hat further down, thoroughly flattening his fringe under the damn thing. Now his hat hair was going to be impossible to straighten out.

"And what about star journalist, Miss Brainiac? I can tell you are lingering, waiting for her to come in with her pretentious laptop. When she came in yesterday, did you spill milk all over yourself again?" he retorts, setting aside the milk he'd, admittedly, heated far too much.

"I’ll have you know, I talked to her yesterday."

He snorts a laugh. Of course this happened when he wasn't there.

"I asked her why she was in town," Robin explains, straightening up his festive apron like a fussing mother. "She said, staying with her parents and she might stay until New Year to write a quick story."

He wacks her hand away and asks, "About how dumb internet cafes are, with their cheap coffee and clumsy baristas?"

Before Robin can come up with a witty retort, a middle-aged lady comes rushing over, fretting about her computer having a different start-up screen than it did a few days ago.

He makes quick work of the order he’d ruined which, of course, was for the customer in question, who was wearing a leather jacket despite it almost snowing outside. He'd been coming in for about a week and a half now, almost every day, ordering the same thing: a double espresso with three sugars in a takeaway cup. Obviously jet fuel for the amount of writing he seemed to do when he was in the cafe.

Steve tries to ignore Robin’s completely conspicuous ogling as she helps customers with their computers (more tech support than a barista, like Robin ever actually stood still long enough to make a coffee anyway) as he makes his way over to Eddie. He sets the coffee down and awkwardly lingers, fishing in his apron pocket.

"Um, I…" he stutters, producing a garish green flyer featuring the cafe's Christmas specials, supposed 'exotic flavours' that were just the normal crap they sell but in festive packaging. "I’m obligated to give these out."

He sets the leaflet down and waves it away, trying to stay casual.

Eddie looks it over as he asks, "Actually, I was meaning to ask you, man, what cocoa do you recommend? I want to get my uncle some."

"None," Steve answers, folding his arms and causing Eddie's eyes to momentarily flit to his biceps. "The coffee we sell here is awful. Go to the department store down the block."

"You're cheating yourself out of a sale here, Steve," he laughs. He seems to register Steve's questioning eye so he adds with a flash of teeth, "You’re wearing a nametag, dude."

"Oh," Steve says, brushing his hand over his red name tag and chuckling. "Silly me."

He shakes his head, cursing himself internally as he whips around, making a beeline back to the coffee machine, utterly mortified.

He continues between the register and the coffee machine as a quiet afternoon turns into a dead night. He busies himself with cleaning, periodically looking over at Eddie who is writing between humming and tapping his ring-clad finger on the table. Robin appears, slapping a sheet of paper on the spotless countertop.

"Intel," she says, mischievous and proud. "He’s famous y’know."

She tilts her head in Eddie’s direction.

"And where did you get this?" Steve asks, looking over the paper in spite of himself. She flicks him on the side of the head.

"Computer Fusspot Francine just said her kid listens to his music so I went and looked him up on the pervert computer," she offers proudly. "For the designated pervert computer, the internet is slow as hell in that back corner."

Steve rolls his eyes. There was, in fact, a computer in the cafe commonly referred to by employees as The Pervert Computer, the only machine in the store whose screen was not at all visible from any angle other than the chair plonked at its desk.

"Heavy Metal?" he groans, looking over the paper.

"Hm, yes. A bit of a problem for someone who's been listening to Cher's Believe non-stop all year."

She suggestively side-eyes a very cute picture of Eddie included in the printout where he is smiling brightly despite his leather clothes and wild hair.

Robin suddenly gasps, grabbing Steve's arm.

"Loverboy is leaving!"

Steve rushes over to clear the table next to Eddie before he leaves. He clamours around, almost dropping an empty coffee cup, too busy watching Rockstar Eddie out of the corner of his eye.

"See you tomorrow," Eddie says, ducking into Steve's personal space with a wide grin. He winks.

Steve merely waves, wiggling his finger with a lopsided smile as he walks out the door.

"Explain to me again why you don’t totally suck?" Robin says, materialising right in front of him. Her smugness only lasts a few minutes before Nancy comes in with her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and Robin almost walks directly into the festive spiced tea display.

The following day, Eddie doesn't come in at his usual time which has Steve moping around the cafe, feeling like a promise has been broken despite it being so casual. Nor does Nancy, which makes for a pretty miserable shift, made worse by the fact there is not a damn thing to do as their customers dwindle further the closer they get to Christmas.

Steve is about to close up, setting his bag and red sweater on the counter ready to leave (if only Robin would hurry up with stealing the chocolates from the storage boxes out back). The front bell rings as Nancy pushes the door open with her elbow, arms filled with shopping bags and bringing a freezing winter chill in with her. Eddie suddenly rushes up beside her, nose reddened from the cold. At least he was wearing a hat and winter coat now.

He grabs a bag from Nancy and reaches over her slight frame to hold the door open.

"No, no, no. I’m sorry," Nancy insists, shaking her head and ridding it of enough snow to build a snowman. She attempts to take her bags back but Eddie holds them out of her reach with a grin.

"After you," he says, nodding his head and bowing as Nancy walks in the door.

"I'm so sorry," she repeats. "Last minute shopping."

"Been too busy sitting over in the corner making goo-goo eyes at Robin, have we?"

Her eyes dart around, eyelashes fluttering as she stutters out, "I've been doing work! … Also that."

"You're cool, star reporter Nancy Wheeler," he insists with a wink, the pair setting her bags on the counter in unison. "I'm here to take Steve on a date. But I’m not sure he knows it’s a date. I’m kinda late."

He looks over with a tight-lipped smile to a slack-jawed Steve.

"Huh?" Steve grunts, unable to form words.

Eddie’s snorting laugh is cut off by Robin, who halts with a yelp in the doorway to the back room.

"Hi," Nancy says with an awkward wave. She straightens up before declaring, "Um, do you want to go to a movie? I'm sorry I'm so late. I got carried away buying presents for my little sister."

Robin's eyes go so wide they look like they are going to pop out of her skull.

"That's, that's cool," she splutters. "We were just closing."

Steve realises he is still wearing his stupid Christmas hat and yanks it off his head, only to find Eddie smiling at him with his stupid dimples. Eddie tosses Steve’s sweater at him.

"Come on, Big Boy. Put your dorky sweater on and let’s go get a drink. Promise I won’t talk about how we've only got one week left on earth."

"Y2K," Nancy laughs, rolling her eyes. "Nothing is going to happen."

"You don’t believe the machines are coming to harvest our organs?" Robin shrieks and Steve just groans at the amount of time he has wasted over the past few months listening to Robin ranting about the millennium.

"If you believe that computers are going to glitch at the turn of the new millennium and destroy human existence, why do you work at an internet cafe?" Nancy laughs.

Eddie clicks his finger and points at Robin. "Wheeler’s got you there."

Robin merely shrugs, "The end is inevitable, mass-produced coffee products and Christmas aprons, or not."

"Woah," Eddie says, somehow completely amazed by Robin’s nonsense and Steve can’t help but giggle.

#robin and steve are total dorks pass it on #i'm hoping my brain mush will be gone after my appointment tomorrow - just love that it has consumed my whole brain this week #StrangerThingsFestiveFun #steve harrington #eddie munson #the fruity four #CoffeeShopAU #stranger things ficlet #steddie ficlet #lily writes a fic

85 notes · View notes

localvoidcat · 11 months

Text

dirk tmcblr is so fun. he looks more like dave than the actual dave did. he used to work at a bass pro shop. his boss tried to murder him. he was in a coma in a field for several months and woke up with no idea what year it was. he's bisexual. his favorite fish is the kissing gourami. his coworker convinced him they had to fight like kissing gourami. he ate coffee grounds for eight months straight because he was told he needed to do that in order to make coffee. he says "oh my cod!" and "holy mackerel" and "sweet mother of salmon!". his adopted niece is a squid. he's physically trans but isn't sure if he is. he calls himself a guy-adjacent fellow. he killed a man. he wears khaki shorts. he has a ponytail. he had a fish wife that disappeared. he's an alternate that wants to be human so badly it hurts. his middle name is strider. he only learned what a cat was two months ago. when asked to create a new gender, his answer was fish. there's worms in his pocket. he has a nametag with someone else's name on it. his sunglasses are his actual eyes because he did not know dave's sunglasses were not, in fact, his actual eyes. his home is a cardboard box. he sits at the lake for several days on end. he's the most wanted man in all of mandela county right now

#tmcblr #he's a joke character that became serious. the canon dave lee effect

27 notes · View notes

insomniacwriter17 · 5 months

Text

Saved from the Flames - Chapter Twenty-Eight

"When you’re born in a burning house, you think the whole world is on fire. But it’s not.” –Richard Kadrey

Billy Hargrove is 9 years old. He tries his best to be the son his father wants him to be - quiet, respectful, and obedient. But Neil just pushes harder and harder, all in the name of raising a “strong man”. When Billy is removed from his father’s custody and placed in foster care, it takes some time for him to realize his world is no longer burning around him. New experiences, new people, new opportunities all make Billy realize there’s a whole lot more to life than respect and responsibility.

AKA: The story of how Bob Newby became a real life superhero for one little boy who needed saving.

Inspired by this post I saw from @connordax

read on ao3

Summer flew by, and Bob learned a few things over the warm months.

Number one, growth spurts happened quick. What seemed like overnight, Billy had grown a few inches and filled out. No longer did he look like the scrawny, terrified little guy that Gabby had dropped off months ago. Instead, Billy was taller, stronger, and he walked with his head held high. There had been a number of shopping trips over the summer to get Billy new clothes, just because he’d wake up one morning and his shorts wouldn’t fit, or his shirt was too short now. They didn’t buy much each time, because quite honestly, Bob wasn’t sure Billy was done growing.

Secondly, Bob learned that Billy liked Joyce more than he liked Bob. Any chance he was given, Billy was ditching Bob at Radio Shack to go help Joyce stock shelves at Melvald’s. And yes, Joyce had managed to get the boy a Melvald’s nametag, which Billy wore proudly. And when the Friday night movie nights at the Newby household continued, there were many nights where Billy snuggled with Joyce instead of Bob. Not that Bob minded, of course. It warmed his heart to know that Billy’s circle of support was expanding and growing. The night Bob looked over to find Will fast asleep with his head in Billy’s lap and Billy playing with his hair, Bob was pretty sure his heart melted into a pile of goo right then and there.

Third, Billy loved to swim. The kid took to water like a fish. Joyce and Bob had decided to take the boys to the lake one Saturday morning, and Billy had just about lost his mind. Bob had expected him to be hesitant, but Billy had run straight into the water and it only took a few minutes of guidance for the boy to figure out how to keep himself afloat and swim through the water. And then he was off, swimming as far as Bob would allow, but obediently returning to shore when the man would call out that Billy had wandered too far.

From that day forward, anytime Bob asked Billy what he wanted to do, he asked to swim. So they became regulars at the Hawkins Community Pool whenever Bob wasn’t working. Sometimes Eddie and Steve tagged along and Joyce often brought her boys, so Billy was always hanging out with his friends, it seemed. He’d go all day long, having the time of his life, and then fall asleep on the drive home. It became routine for Bob to have to bribe Billy to shower and eat some dinner, and then the boy would crash hard and fast, sleeping through the night. Then he’d ask to do it all again.

Finally, Bob had learned just how much someone’s appearance could change in just a few short months. Billy’s pale skin had tanned from the hours of playing outside, and a few haircuts had helped tame his unruly curls into a more manageable hairdo. But Billy liked his hair long, and it was one of the few things he had an opinion about, so Bob was happy to help Billy learn how to properly take care of his hair.

Before too long, summer was drawing to an end and Bob was gearing up to take Billy back to school shopping. It took some convincing, but Billy eventually warmed up to the idea of being able to pick what he wanted as far as school supplies and clothes. Since they’d done it a few times over the summer, Billy knew what to expect, but this was to a much larger scale. For a few days, it felt like all Billy had done was choose clothes and school supplies – backpacks and pencil cases, t-shirts and tennis shoes, binders and scissors and a calculator.

It was like Bob blinked, and suddenly it was time for Meet the Teacher, which meant that Billy would start fifth grade the next week. Bob was entertained by the internal monologue he could hear from his office as Billy agonized to Winslow over which outfit to wear tonight.

“I could wear the blue shirt, but I think I want to wear that on the first day, so maybe I should wear the yellow shirt? But Dad said we were going to get dinner first, and what if I spill? That’ll show up on a yellow shirt. So maybe I should wear the black shirt.”

Eventually, Bob heard Billy shuffling around, and then a quiet knock on the doorway to Bob’s office. “Hey, Dad?” the boy asks, and Bob turned from where he faced his desk to look at Billy. “Do…do you think this outfit is good enough for Meet the Teacher tonight?” he asked. He was wearing the black button-down shirt Bob had picked out and a pair of light-wash denim jeans along with his new black Converse.

“I think you look absolutely dapper.” Bob smiled, nodding his approval. “Good fashion choices, dude.”

Billy cocked his head to the side. “What’s dapper mean?”

Bob chuckled. “Means you look good, bud. Handsome.” A grin stretched across Billy’s face and he stood up a bit straighter, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

“Really?” he asked with a giggle.

“So handsome,” Bob agreed. “You look like you grew up way too much over the summer,” he shook his head. “Need you to stop that.” Then he leaned back in his chair and looked the boy over once more. “Have you decided where we should go to dinner?”

Billy nodded. “I want to go to Benny’s! I want a chicken quesadilla. And Sprite.”

Bob tried not to get too emotional at how quickly and how surely Billy gave his opinion. It didn’t happen quite as often as it did at first, but sometimes Bob remembered a little too harshly what Billy had been like when he first arrived at the Newby house. How careful and how quiet, uncertain Billy had been. It was like Billy was a completely different kid now, and Bob was simultaneously ecstatic and heartbroken.

He was so happy to see Billy growing into the boy he was today, but his chest ached daily for the little boy who hadn’t gotten to grow for all these years. He wondered what a little toddler Billy would’ve looked like, what TV shows he would’ve liked, what activities he would’ve done as a little kid.

But Billy wasn’t a little kid – not anymore. He was standing tall in front of Bob right now, grown into his gangly limbs and somewhere between last night and now Bob swore Billy had tipped the scale from little kid to preteen.

“Benny’s it is,” Bob replied when he realized Billy was staring at him and waiting for an answer. He looked at his watch, doing some mental math before he said, “We should leave in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay! I’ll make sure all my school supplies are ready and labeled!” Billy turned and ran back toward the living room, and Bob laughed quietly to himself as he turned back to his work.

Before long, Billy and Bob were leaving Benny’s Diner and heading to Hawkins Elementary School for Meet the Teacher. “Do you think Eddie and Steve and Jonathan will be in my class?”

“We’ll find out!” Bob replied cheerily. “But even if they’re not, you’ll still see them at lunch and recess.”

Meet the Teacher went better than Bob could have imagined . He’d been a little worried about the idea of Billy switching classes and having multiple teachers, but that fear squashed itself as Billy confidently waltzed himself into each classroom. The first time Billy held his hand out to his teacher, he said, “Hi! My name’s Billy Hargrove, but in a few months my dad’s adopting me, so it’s going to change to Billy Newby.”

The statement was so confident, so proud, that it nearly sent Bob into a breakdown standing in Mr. Todd’s history classroom. But instead, Bob tried to focus on Billy’s attitude – how well he spoke to his teacher, how polite and kind he was without dimming himself. And that pattern continued all night – for each teacher Billy introduced himself to, he was polite and conversational.

After making the rounds to all the classrooms, Billy was able to meet up with Eddie, Steve, and Jonathan in the school gym while the parents did a few last minute pieces of paperwork. Billy ran off to meet up with the other three boys who were standing by the basketball hoop, leaving Bob to his own devices.

“Hi guys!” Billy greeted as he approached.

Eddie perked up when he saw his best friend. “Billy! Please tell me you’re in Mr. Todd’s class! Otherwise, I’m the only one! I’ll be all by myself!” The boy’s lament was dramatic but probably at least somewhat genuine.

Billy laughed loudly and nodded. “I am!” he told Eddie quickly, and the boy squealed happily. “Are you guys in Ms. Garcia’s class?” he asked, directing his second question to Steve and Jonathan. They both nodded, and Billy sighed.

“Man! That means I’ll only see you a few times a day,” Billy pouted. “We have to make sure to eat lunch together every day! And we can play on the playground at recess,” he added quickly. The other boys nodded in agreement and that seemed to placate Eddie, so the four of them began a game of tag in the large gym.

On the other side of the room, Bob was standing with Joyce, filling out the necessary paperwork for the school year. Will was sitting content at Joyce’s feet, scribbling in a notebook with some crayons. As Bob was circling the option that no, Billy didn’t need to ride the bus, Joyce nudged his shoulder. “I was thinking of taking the boys for ice cream after we leave here, would you and Billy like to join us?” she whispered so that her youngest couldn’t hear.

“That’d be great,” Bob smiled. “Yeah, thanks for the invite.” He looked down at Will and asked, “When’s Little Man’s Meet the Teacher for Kindergarten?”

“Tomorrow night,” Joyce replied with a sad smile. “It’s too soon, Bob,” she chuckled. “Kid was born yesterday!” Then she stilled a bit. “Any chance you want to take Jonathan for a few hours tomorrow night? Lonnie will be home but…he’s been having a bad few days,” she said softly. “I’d rather Jon be somewhere else,” she admitted.

“Of course,” Bob nodded immediately. “He’s welcome anytime. You all are, you know that,” Bob smiled. “You can stay for movie night after you get back from Meet the Teacher, if you want. One more fun night before school starts next week?” he offered.

Joyce smiled, but the grin faltered the tiniest bit. “Maybe the boys could stay the night?” she questioned softly. “You know, like one last hurrah.”

Bob nodded without any sort of hesitation. “I think Billy would love that,” he smiled. “Yeah, of course they can stay.” So can you, he wanted to add. But he didn’t want to make it weird.

Joyce hesitated before she nodded, almost like she was going to ask something else but she decided not to. “Great, I’ll bring their things tomorrow when I drop Jonathan off then,” she smiled tensely. Then she was back to focusing on the paper on the clipboard in her hand, and Bob did the same.

Billy and Jonathan’s Meet the Teacher night ended with Joyce and Bob sitting at a booth with the boys and milkshakes. As Jonathan and Billy talked about their new teachers and Will continued coloring in his notebook, Bob and Joyce watched the scene in amusement.

At the end of the night, when Billy was curled up in bed with Winston and Bob sitting beside him, getting ready to read him another chapter of The Hardy Boys book they were currently working through, Bob looked down at Billy.

“Did you have a good day, kiddo?” Bob wondered while opening the book. “Your teachers seem nice.”

Billy nodded, snuggling deeper into the blankets wrapped around his shoulders. “They do! Mrs. Evans, my science teacher? She told me that her sister was adopted,” he yawned.

“Oh yeah?” Bob hummed, settling back against the headboard of Billy’s bed. “That’s cool. Do you think you’re going to have a good year?” Billy hummed an affirmative and then he looked up at Bob with a shy smile. “Dad, I think this is going to be the best year ever.”

#stranger things #billy hargrove #ao3 #insomniacwriter17 #fandom #bob newby #bob newby deserved better #billy hargrove deserved better #cw: child abuse #foster care au #sftf #saved from the flames

8 notes · View notes

godlizzza · 1 year

Note

prompt: danbert meeting for the first time in an aquarium? like maybe one of them works there? (I love your fics btw)

Herbert glanced up from his book as a shadow fell across the page. He was met with the sight of a boy around his age, wearing a garish blue polo shirt and lanyard. Pinned above his nametag was a badge that read, Ask me about manatees!

"Hey there," Dan (thank you, nametag) greeted. "You need help with anything?"

Herbert, who just wanted to be left alone to complete his Trig homework, replied curtly, "No."

He'd hoped that would be the end of their little interaction. Herbert could get back to his work, occasionally looking at array of fish swimming past in the huge tank, and Dan could go tell some brats facts about dolphins or something. But Dan simply grinned and sat down beside Herbert on the viewing bench.

"I see you here all the time," Dan said.

"I have a season pass."

"What's your name?"

"Do you always bother your customers this much?" Herbert groused.

Dan just laughed and ran a hand through his hair, making Herbert's stomach swoop. It was unfair how cute he was.

"When I want to," Dan quipped. He leaned over to look at Herbert's notebook. "What're you doing, anyway?"

"Homework," Herbert snapped, flipping his book closed. "Nothing too exciting, I'm sure."

Dan raised an eyebrow at him, which really was ridiculous. He was the one pestering him, and yet he had the gall to act as though Herbert were being uncouth by not wanting to share scribbled equations with him?

"You know," Dan began conversationally, "most people do their homework in a library. Your school not got one of those?"

Herbert huffed an irritated breath. "Obviously it does."

"Just can't resist Stella, huh?" Dan said, gesturing to a huge sea turtle swimming lazily past the screen.

Herbert glared at him. Dan didn't need to know he preferred the aquarium to the library. The library was too crowded, full of students all clustered together around shelves and tables, talking loudly more than they were studying. Herbert missed his elementary school days. The school librarian, Mrs. Pillsner, had been militant about maintaining silence at all times. He'd respected that about her.

Also, he did like the aquarium. So long as he came on weekday mornings when no kids would be running around, squealing every time a fish so much as blew a bubble, he had peace. He could sit in front of the saltwater tank, bathed in the ethereal blue glow of the water, and solve his problems without the annoying nag of chatter itching at his ears.

Rather, he usually could. When he wasn't being interrogated by employees.

Herbert didn't answer Dan. Instead, he flicked his eyes down to his chest and asked, "What about the manatees?"

Dan paused then blinked at him. "Huh?"

"Your shirt," Herbert said, nodding at his badge. "It says you have something very exciting to tell me about manatees."

"Oh." Dan glanced down at his manatees badge, as though just remembering it was there. "Right. Well, every month we try to raise awareness for different species of endangered sea creatures. Last month it was humpback whales, now we're onto manatees."

Herbert hummed. "I prefer whales," he said, turning to face the tank.

They sat in silence for a moment, watching a nurse shark swim by, when Dan spoke up.

"I can, uh, still tell you some pretty cool stuff about whales," he ventured.

Herbert looked at him out of the corner of his eye. He was scratching at the back of his neck, sneaking glances at Herbert. He turned away when their eyes met, seemingly embarrassed. Ugh. Even when he was nervous, he was cute. How annoying could he be?

"Alright," Herbert said anyway. He coughed into his fist at the grin Dan aimed at him. "I mean, if you really want to. Seems like you've got nothing better to do."

"Alright then," Dan replied, his smile dazzling. "You still haven't told me your name though."

Herbert rolled his eyes. "It's Herbert. I don't know how that's relevant to whales but there you go."

"Nothing to do with the whales," Dan agreed. "I just wanted to put a name to the face."

Then he started listing off random quips about whale anatomy--"You couldn't swim through the heart of a blue whale, but you could probably sit in it."--and Herbert listened. They sat there, just the two of them and the glow of the tank, for most of the morning, and Herbert didn't even mind. In fact, he might've actually liked it.

He certainly wouldn't be returning to the library anytime soon.

#the inherent romance of a glowing aquarium fishtank #theyre college aged here #like 20 #dan cain #herbert west #danbert #re-animator #my fics #asks #writing prompt

45 notes · View notes

mrcspectr · 2 years

Note

Hey bestie I just had a thought that's a little small and insignificant but its consumed my brain and its because I'm looking at those icons you just reblogged. But you know, I'm looking at Marc and Steven's jackets, and they look really similar. I know they aren't the same jacket, but like... there are similarities.

Anyway, Marc's jacket get ruined and he seems upset about it when he's changing clothes in the car with Layla, albeit briefly. But, that made me wonder if Steven's ever fronted in the mornings before he knew about Marc to find that his favorite shirt was now gone, or stained, or covered in odd holes that look like they could've been made by knives or bullets (but that's loony talk, innit?) I wonder if he's ever wandered into the museum without his nametag because the jacket it was attached to disappeared in the middle of the night. I wonder how many times he's had to get it replaced. I wonder if Steven ever fronted in the midst of a shift at work and looked at himself in the reflections of the display cases, thinking, "Huh... that's odd."

I wonder how often he checked the laundry and found these weird shirts, pants, jackets, etc. that he definitely doesn't remember owning. I wonder if he ever tried them on and felt a little silly because obviously, this wasn't something he would've bought for himself. I wonder what he did with them after the fact. Did he shove them in a drawer and forest about them, his skin crawling like there were eyes watching him from somewhere unseen? Or maybe he just closed his eyes, and just as suddenly as they appeared, they were gone again.

I wonder how much attention Marc (and even Jake) had to pay to Steven's wardrobe in order to mask as him in public. I wonder how many times Marc ruined something of Steven's on accident, and how many times he beat himself about it after the fact. I wonder how often he mixed up his clothes with Steven's and scrambled to fix it before Steven would catch on.

I wonder how many times that fish died and Steven never noticed.

Just thoughts. I don't know.

Bestie, in retaliation I am here to tell you that this is very much not a small thing, because I am constantly thinking about the lengths to which Marc had to go to maintain Steven's life, when he put next to no effort in maintaining his own.

Also I just finished writing a scene about Marc and Steven sharing clothes, are you hiding away in a pocket of my brain somewhere actually.

I can imagine Marc sort of panicking a little the moment he's ruined one of Steven's novelty button up shirts. Like he rolls his eyes some every time he picks one out, and he tries not to be caught dead in any of them but sometimes Khonshu's nagging is insistent and he doesn't always get the chance to wear what he likes, in the moment. So when he takes a knife to the gut, or a bullet to the shoulder, yeah it hurts for a second, but the pain isn't at the forefront of his mind every time, it's.. fuck, how am I supposed to find another one of these? My sewing skills are shit, it's not like I can just. Fix it.

And I don't think he was necessarily perfect every time. I'm sure there were nights that he stumbled into the flat, too exhausted to stand, where he'd just fall into bed not considering the way Steven might wake up. But Steven had a hand in it too, where his mind would play tricks on him and fill in the gaps so he didn't look too closely. Must've tripped and caught on something, that's why there's a tear here, a loose thread there. Bugger, I loved that shirt. And he'd toss it in a huff, none the wiser.

I think Marc must've been much better about not keeping his things in Steven's flat, but he'd definitely have some of Steven's things in the storage locker. Maybe he'd buy extra of something and keep it away in a different wardrobe, changing there after a mission so that he wouldn't draw attention when he headed home. Feeling that familiar itch of, this isn't me, I'm leaving me behind as he got closer and closer to the flat. But the times he made mistakes, the times he'd leave things.. he'd scramble to the front, stuffing shirts under floorboards, pants under the mattress. The things that did bring him some comfort, that actually made him feel like himself, hidden away like everything else.

I think about Steven, grabbing one of his jackets in a sleep deprived haze and looking in the mirror in confusion. And Marc watching in silence, a small, sad smile on his face.

Looks good, buddy.

#also why am i thinking of like..#marc having a little box with a TON of steven's nametag #just a whole bunch #like he stealthily had them all made up at the same time #so every time he lost one he could just #grab another #lksjgklsjgklsj #feelin' blurry today myself so i hope this came out ok #tankycinna #asks

90 notes · View notes

lostforgottenspaces · 1 year

Text

Dorlene mini coffee shop au

The bell jingled overhead as Marlene entered the cafe. She hummed along to her music as she slid into her usual booth. It was nice here. Looking out the window, she could observe different people going about their lives. Yesterday, she had seen two men wander into the bookshop across the road. They'd been holding hands and she watched them kiss and laugh with each other as they enjoyed the summery day. It had made her smile for the rest of the day - seeing that small joyful love, completely oblivious to the world around it. Last month she had seen a man flirting with a lady down the street. Suddenly another woman pulled up in a car next to them and jumped out screaming at the man. Marlene assumed he had cheated on her with the first lady as both of them began hitting him with their purses. He stumbled away and clambered into his car. As he drove off, the women both grabbed a handful of pebbles from a nearby pot plant and threw them at his back window. The distant shattering glass was music to Marlene’s ears. Today a teenager was sitting on a bench outside. They had bright blue hair and their pale cheeks had a smattering of freckles across them. In their hands was an old book and every now and then they let out a giggle, amused with whatever story they were reading.

Watching all these people living their own lives and having their own feelings gave Marlene a different perspective. It made her feel smaller in the grand scheme of things, but it was nice to sit in her own little world knowing that these people don't care if her hair was a mess. Or if she was wearing the same shirt she wore yesterday. Or if her eyeliner was even. Lost in thought, she didn't hear the sounds of footsteps approaching.

"Soy milk vanilla latte?"

Marlene started at the sound of a lovely deep female voice beside her. She turned in confusion, but all words left her head as she made eye contact with a stunningly beautiful woman holding what must be the soy milk vanilla latte. The waitress had a gorgeous deep bronze complexion which was offset by the green singlet she was wearing. Long dark braids hung around her shoulders, gold beads clinking on the end. She had several piercings in her ears and Marlene decided that gold jewellery had been designed specifically for this woman to wear. No one was going to look that pretty in gold jewellery ever again.

"Soy milk vanilla latte?" The pretty lady repeated again, amusement glittering in her eyes.

"Oh, yes, but I didn't order anything," Marlene managed to get out, thoroughly confused and gay.

The waitress placed the cup on the table while Marlene fished the change out of her jeans. "I'm covering so shifts for a friend this week and he said you come in here every Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Sunday at exactly 9:45, order a soy milk vanilla latte and sit in that booth. I made it when I saw you sit down."

"Thank you so much. Wow, I had no idea I was that predictable." Marlene sipped her drink. It tasted even better than usual, but she was probably just being gay or delusional. She glanced over at the waitress again. Yeah, it was both.

"I had to ask though," The very lovely waitress - who Marlene just realised had a nametag on that read 'Dorcas' - turned back towards her. "Evan also mentioned you just sit here and watch people. You never go on your phone or read or anything, you just look out the window. I was curious as to why?"

Marlene thought about it for a moment before responding. "Well, it's interesting, seeing other people go about their day and interact with each other. Sometimes it's nice to get a piece of other lives around you." Dorcas was looking thoughtful, her amber eyes studying Marlene intently. Having the attention of a pretty lady seemed to click something in Marlene's brain and she found herself much less tongue-tied and awkward. Back to her normal, confident self, she continued. "Normally I'm rather extroverted and loud."

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. "Much unlike five minutes ago."

"Ha ha, but yes. That's what's nice about this. I'm reminded of the quieter things and that the world doesn't revolve around me. It's grounding I suppose and makes me feel less self-conscious and calmer. Probably why I come back so regularly." She shrugged taking a sip of her drink.

"Oh, that's really lovely."

"Yeah, it's kinda random but it's nice. And y'know," Marlene looked directly at Dorcas, a smirk on her lips. "The view's pretty nice too."

Dorcas rolled her eyes but winked at Marlene as she turned to go back to the counter. Looking back out the window Marlene, pretended to keep watching strangers enjoy their lives. At the moment, she was quite content to enjoy her own life.

Maybe Marlene stayed at the cafe a bit later than she normally did, making her late for lunch at Lily's. Maybe she went up to the counter to order a muffin at some point, and again to grab another coffee on her way out, even though one coffee was more than enough that morning. And maybe, just maybe, she let out a little squeal halfway down the street when she noticed a number and a heart scribbled on the side of her cup.

Maybe that happened, but she would deny it if anyone asked.

#this is an apology for the most recent dorlene piece i posted #dorlene #dorcas x marlene #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #marauders era #the marauders #marauders headcanon #the marauders era #dorcas meadows #fluff #my writing #lost writes

13 notes · View notes

solsearchingnights · 1 year

Text

Thinking about early iitv chapters. Anyone want Jimmy's Double Life flashback? Because its below the cut since I giggled reading it again.

Through chance alone he had ended up sharing the life and pain of a man who was easy to fall for. Tango just hadn’t been interested in catching him.

Jimmy remembered one night, sitting beside a campfire and looking over the ravine. Cleo, Martyn, and Scott were with them, neighbors sharing a starry night. Tango was treating them once again to a retelling of his mission to surface their Warden. He was a captivating storyteller, and every time he’d recalled the harrowing adventure, there was a new close call, another daring escape. Jimmy trilled when his man wrapped a nametag around the warden’s neck, and gasped as Tango misstepped, straying from the wool path and only a breath away from oblivion as he was chased into his hastily made tunnel. When he described the splash of the warden entering his waterway, Tango kicked up sparks from his toes.

Their neighbors, having only heard the tale once or twice before, were appreciative of the theatrics. Appropriate cheers and exclamations danced around the fires of the circle, and the flames of Tango’s hair.

“And now,” Tango’s tale came to a close, “our sweet baby boy is free. Swimming to his heart’s content and able to kill all the fish he wants!” He stood on the edge of the ravine, arms spread wide, and took a bow.

Jimmy’s heart skipped as he saw just how easy it would be for Tango to be pushed slip and perish on the rocks below. Without thinking, he lunged forward, wrapping Tango in a hug and pulling him back to solid ground, to safety. He laughed, trying to play it off as no big deal. “My soulmate, everyone! Bet you wish yours was as brilliant!”

Tango beamed, hugging him back. His warmth was impossible not to relax into. “I had to avenge the Ranch! Now everyone knows not to mess with us.” He announced it to the dark night, but met Jimmy’s eyes.

The moment was over far too soon, but it left Jimmy breathless, spinning.

“So now I just have your grudge under my base for the rest of the server?” Martyn grumbled, but it wasn’t serious. “I can hear that thing when I’m trying to sleep. It’s terrifying.”

“Good!” Jimmy and Cleo quipped in unison.

Cleo giggled as Jimmy continued. “Serves you right for building that hideous thing on our doorstep.”

Wisely, Martyn didn’t try to defend himself. Instead, he stood and stretched. “Gonna go treat myself to some nightmares, then. You all have a good night!” As he left the ring of firelight, he disappeared into the blackness. There was a distant sound of rattling bones and a yelp to mark how far he’d made it. Cleo flinched and rubbed her arm, but rolled her eyes when Scott tilted his head in question.

“I’m gonna head to bed, too.” Tango rolled his shoulders, then waved to the campfire. “Y’all are welcome to stay as long as you like.” And he started towards the main house.

Jimmy hummed for a moment, considering.

“Go on.” Scott teased. “He’s getting away.”

Jimmy smiled at Scott, appreciating the encouragement. While their own relationship status was constantly breaking the dial of, ‘it’s complicated,’ Scott and Jimmy were happy to see each other happy.

Cleo snorted, “Though if you want to cuddle with this one sometime I wouldn’t mind the break.” She elbowed Scott in the ribs.

“Hey!”

“Jimmy, you could have warned me he’s clingy.” She leaned forward, mischievous smile on her lips. “Though I have on good authority that Tango’s an excellent little spoon, so you might be set.”

Blushing furiously, Jimmy coughed up a chirp. “I’m sure he is, Cleo. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna— I’m just gonna go.”

The pseudo soulmates chuckled as he left them behind.

He caught Tango tugging a sleep shirt on, back turned to the doorway. Jimmy felt his ears burn and feathers puff as he averted his gaze. “Um,” he coughed, “anything I can do to set up for the morning?” He ruffled a hand through his hair, trying to self-soothe and relax his tattling feathers. “Anything you have planned I can help with?”

Tango smoothed out his shirt and turned to grin at Jimmy. “Nah, we’ll see what tomorrow brings, but I don’t have any plans.” He scooped a blanket off a shelf and tossed it over his shoulder. He started to make his way to the ladder.

“Yeah, okay, cool.” Jimmy winced at his words. “So I wanted to thank you.” He stepped the rest of the way into the room, raising his voice to make sure Tango wouldn’t have to stop to listen to him. “What you’ve gone and done with the warden, it's really incredible.” He busied himself pulling his own sleep clothes out of storage.

He could hear the ladder creak as Tango began to climb. “Of course! Anything for the Ranch!” The creaking stopped, too soon for him to have reached the second floor. “And thank you too, Jim.”

Jimmy, his shirt half-removed, froze.

“Just look what you’ve built here, all while dealing with my less-than-stable reputation.” Tango chuckled. “A warden loose on the surface is the least I could do for you.” The creaking resumed, and soon there were footsteps on the second floor.

Jimmy exhaled a shaky breath. Trying so hard not to overthink his next steps, he dressed for bed, and followed Tango up the ladder.

The blaze hybrid was laying in his own bed, smiling idly at his communicator.

“Tango?” Jimmy begged his voice to sound stronger than he felt.

“Mmh? What’s up?” His eyes flicked off the screen to peer at his soulmate.

Jimmy took a step forward. “I’m really glad we’re soulmates. Getting to know you has been such a blessing.” He tried not to cringe at the awkward wording. It sounded as if he hadn’t spent weeks figuring out how to say this. “Every moment I spend with you I’m finding more ways to appreciate you, and if you’ll have me, I’m committed to being whatever kind of partner you want from me.”

It didn’t matter if the silence lasted seconds or minutes, it felt like a lifetime to Jimmy.

When Tango exhaled a laugh, Jimmy jumped.

“Sorry, I just didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.” Tango put down the communicator and sat up.

Jimmy’s heart stuttered.

“Jimmy, I don’t know how obvious it is, but I’ve been torn up with guilt for our first death.” He rubbed the side of his neck, where Jimmy knew a faint scar from the blast marked his flesh. “Learning you’re stuck with me like that? With me proving I can’t protect us? Absolute nightmare!”

Jimmy clicked in protest, then realized Tango might not know what it meant. “Not at all, Tango! I’m the cursed one, it was probably somehow my fault on a big ol’ universal level or something.” He wasn’t sure where his soulmate was going with this response, but despite his better judgment, he was hopeful. “And I don’t care about all that, you’re more than worth an accidental death or two.”

Tango grinned. “So we’re officially putting that behind us? Gonna take on the world baggage-free?”

“Of course!” Jimmy’s brow furrowed, trying to parse what was happening. “What part of me pouring my heart out in confession makes you think I was holding a grudge?”

The communicator pinged and drew Tango’s gaze for a second. He returned to Jimmy and tilted his head. “I don’t know if you know this, Jimmy, but you’re a super nice fella. Something tells me if you actually loathed me, I wouldn’t have any way of knowing until a moment like right now.” The comm pinged again and Tango’s hand drifted to it.

Jimmy could feel the blush return. “Right, I mean, I definitely don’t hate you.” The conversation was still very positive, complimentary, and so confusing. “Tango, I’m confessing my–” Don’t say ‘love’ that’ll scare him off for sure. “That I’m quite taken with you, here. I’m not sure you’re following.”

When he laughed this time, Tango’s sharp teeth and inhuman eyes sparked instinctive fears of being devoured. Jimmy shivered and couldn’t tell if he liked the thrill or not. “Sorry, you’re so right. I’m gonna stop overthinking it.” Tango threw his arms wide, clearly inviting a hug. “Of all the people in this crazy-ass server, I’m glad I got to be soulmates with my new best friend. Things could have been so much worse!”

Jimmy didn’t have the time (or the willpower) to stop himself from falling into the offered hug. By the time Tango had shut the iron door in his face, locking it by naming him ‘best friend’, Jimmy was tightly wound in his soulmate’s arms. He was sure Tango noticed him stiffen, positive the blaze had heard his breath catch (their faces were next to each other, how could he not?). And when Jimmy only offered a shallow laugh as a response, there was no way Tango didn’t hear the color of hysteria dancing through each sound.

But whatever should have come next would only be that: ‘should’.

The communicator pinged. It was wrapped in Tango’s hand, resting right on Jimmy’s neck. The sound may as well have been a shard of ice, cutting through the warmth of Tango’s arms and directly through Jimmy’s heart.

Tango huffed a laugh and detangled from the hug. “Sorry, Zedaph got a link through the server and I’m just getting the chance to catch up on his messages.” He leaned back on the bed, tapping at the screen with one hand and patting the mattress next to him with the other. “We’re probably gonna video chat in a second if you want to meet him? Impulse will be on too.”

And there it was, the proof Jimmy needed that he had overstepped. The warning laced in with the invitation, that there were others already filling the role in Tango’s life that Jimmy had found himself imagining he might–

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” He stumbled back. He coughed. “Actually that reminds me, we left Cleo with a lit fire next to our wooden ranch.” He rubbed his hands up and down his arms.

“Oh, I suppose we did!” He craned his neck around, peering out the window. “You think they’ve put that phase behind them, orrrrr…?”

“I’m gonna go check on that.” He tripped over his feet to get to the ladder. “I’m suddenly very unsure about a lot of things.” At least that was true.

When his feet hit the first floor he chose not to hear Tango’s excited greeting as the call connected. Jimmy made for the front door and shut it gently behind him.

Eyes closed, Jimmy let himself fall back against the rough hewn wood. He had no idea what came next. He wanted to be numb, to be lost for any feeling at all. But instead his brain was fully engaged in reliving everything he had missed, every sign he had misread. He had bombed the most basic test of their relationship and failed to notice that there were hard limits in place.

He wanted to sob. His chest was so full of emotion that there was no room left for even the heartbreak.

A laugh fell from the window above and repelled Jimmy like a cannon blast.

He stumbled away from the house, blindly moving down the hill and towards the point of light on the edge of their territory. Desperate to ignore one source of merriment, he found another. As he approached it was clear Cleo and Scott were preparing to leave.

They were talking in low but energetic voices, laughing and enjoying the night. Scott was using his sword to spread apart the logs on the dwindling fire, and Cleo was gathering the remains of roasted apples and campfire-boiled tea for disposal. Still too far to make out their words, Jimmy caught Scott throwing some remark over his shoulder, and Cleo responding by throwing a half-eaten apple at his back. Their laughter was the first clear bit of the exchange he heard. Jimmy wished he had the capacity for envy at their easy camaraderie.

“Oh, Jimmy! Welcome back!” Cleo was the first to spot his approach. “Are you doing okay there, bud?” Goddamn his friends for having empathy and being good people. It would be so much easier if they were selfish and unaware of the feelings of others.

“Oh, you know,” he gestured to the sputtering fire, “thought it might be a good idea to put the fire out, what with the Ranch’s recent history.” It was close enough to the excuse he gave Tango that it felt consistent.

Too bad it wasn’t particularly believable.

“Jimmy.” Scott’s voice was a familiar chide.

It only took a few seconds of silence for Jimmy to lose composure. There was barely a sound associated, it was a quiet cascade of tears.

There were hands on his shoulders, gentle shushes and kind words. His head was pulled down to a shoulder in a protective embrace; the familiar texture of Scott’s denim overshirt pressed against his face. He felt his cheeks burn in shame. Here he was, crying over the rejection of one man while in the arms of another he still loved. And Cleo. Cleo was there.

“Jimmy, can I touch your feathers?” Scott’s question was gentle, non pressuring. If Jimmy said no, everything would be okay.

And if it were anyone other than Scott the idea would have disgusted him. As it was, nothing sounded more right. He managed to release a chirp of affirmation, and was immediately rewarded with soft fingers on the back of his neck.

Cleo asked something, but he couldn’t hear through the growing haze behind his eyes. He just nodded, trusting that his friend wouldn’t be asking him to agree to something harmful. A second later and he was being lifted, scooped up like a sleeping child. He chirped in surprise, but a hand behind his ear and reassurances from above quelled any real protest.

She carried him through the darkness. He had enough wherewithal to marvel that she was unbothered by the act of carrying a man taller than her over rough terrain in the middle of the mob-filled night. Jimmy knew he should be insisting on his independence, that they would be mocking him as soon as they knew he was losing him marbles over an unrequited crush. But even more, he knew he should appreciate the affection while he could. His friends might be insufferable, pranking, bloodthirsty, bastards, but they took care of their own.

It took no time at all for them to be on a wooden porch, Cleo carefully setting his feet on the planks. Jimmy blinked up at the building and recognized Scott’s house.

“I’ll be just over the bridge if you need me, ya’hear?” She gave Jimmy’s shoulder a squeeze and walked away.

“Come on in, Jimmy.” Scott laid a hand on the small of his back and urged him through the open front door. “Is this a ‘give it time’, or an ‘eat our feelings’ kind of cry?”

Jimmy tried to laugh but just hiccuped.

Scott stepped past him, moving to start the furnace for light and warmth. “Pick one, the couch or the bed. I’m fine with each and I’ll not leave you alone either way.” The elf’s ear twitched as the flint and steel sparked loudly.

The practical man inside Jimmy said, “couch.” The active, sad, and needy Jimmy set his sights on the bed and made his way over to it.

“Extra blankets?” They both fell into each other’s habits so easily.

“Yes please.” Jimmy’s voice was small, but he knew Scott heard as the sound of a chest opening was followed by the overencumbered grunt of the man.

Several pounds of wool and cotton landed in a mound in front of Jimmy. “I’m going to get some hot cocoa, you arrange the bed.”

It was natural, being in Scott’s space and making it shared. No matter what else was happening in his head, Scott had a way of making him feel grounded, safe. At home, his mind supplied. As he folded and unfolded blankets, pretending not to notice how nest-like the arrangement was, Jimmy listened to the familiar sounds of Scott’s tuneless humming from the kitchen. It soothed something deep down, spreading a sense of ‘rightness’ through his bones.

Of course that didn’t mean he wasn’t still an absolute wreck. Jimmy would have to call his emotional state in that moment, “complicated and unfair.” Most overwhelming, as he fluffed a pillow and cast a critical eye over his work, was the emptiness of disappointment. It was coming from all directions. He was disappointed, of course, that Tango didn’t return his feelings. That was the easiest to understand. But even more than that was the self-loathing disappointment in himself for letting these feelings fester and embed themselves in him in the first place. He had no right to Tango’s affections, so why had he been so set on claiming them?

He warbled, a sound of frustration and mourning. Scott, accustomed to translating such sounds, called out.

“I’ll be just a moment, Flower. Trying not to spill.”

And wow, it had been a while since he’d heard a pet name. It sent a wave of warmth down his spine, fighting back the chill of sorrow. Either Scott was really tired, or he was presenting as very pathetic right now. Jimmy suspected he knew which was the culprit.

Scott came in, mugs in hand and another blanket draped over an arm. He settled the cocoa on the bedside table, and nodded appreciatively at Jimmy’s achievement with the bedding. “How bad we talking? You want me in first?”

Jimmy blushed. Why yes, he would like Scott to get in first so that he could tuck the man in and reassure himself that everything was perfect. But he was embarrassing himself enough without fully reverting to their old relationship habits. Resolutely, Jimmy climbed in first, deciding not to care that doing so messed up the blankets folded at the edge.

And this was a problem he hadn’t maintained the bandwidth to consider before this moment; the bed smelled like Scott. Cleo too, it was obvious she had spent time over, cuddling and scheming. But Jimmy hadn’t been prepared for how his fragile emotions would handle being sat in the middle of a fortress of blankets that smelled like his best friend.

He tried so hard not to fall into the stereotypes of hybrids. He kept his vocalizations to himself and his most trusted friends, covered his visibly inhuman features, and suppressed every urge to treat his friends to songs and shiny objects. But sometimes it was too much.

Right now it was too much.

The crying began anew and Jimmy threw himself into the bed. He buried his face in a soft blanket, letting the tight weave soothe his skin and the scent of Scott soothe everything else.

Fuck it was so hard to be over Scott when everything about him felt like home.

The bed dipped next to him and a hand ghosted up and down his back. Giving up all pretenses of dignity, Jimmy turned his body to face the elf and made grabby hands to Scott.

“Just a second, Lily.” Scott brought a hand to Jimmy’s chin and eased their eyes to meeting. “There’s something I need to know first, okay? Everything else can wait and you don’t have to tell me anything more than this.” The green crystals dancing around Scott’s head were soothing, like visual white noise, scattering the intense troubled thoughts.

Jimmy nodded. “Anything.”

Scott leaned down, foreheads nearly pressing together. “Jimmy, did Tango hurt you?” His eyes were hard, searching for a true answer and ready to act when he got one.

Jimmy’s own eyes went wide. “No! Not at all! He would never.” Not in the way Scott was asking, not on purpose, not cruelly.

For a few seconds, Scott’s eyes stayed on Jimmy’s face, waiting for him to change his answer.

“Really, Scott, it's nothing like that.” He leaned forward, nuzzling his forehead against Scott’s cheek. “I swear to you, Tango hasn’t hurt me.”

Scott hummed, then nodded. He wrapped one arm around Jimmy and reached the other back to the bedside table. “Thank you, I just had to be sure.”

Comfort fought a hard battle, but curiosity won out. Jimmy lifted his head up to see what his bedmate was doing. He was slightly annoyed to see him typing on his communicator. An indignant click left Jimmy’s throat and Scott responded with a grin.

“Believe me, Flower, you want me to send this message. I’m just letting Cleo know we’re good and that she shouldn’t go kill Tango in his sleep.”

Whatever sound Jimmy was trying to make turned into a choked sputtering.

Scott laughed and set down the device. “Now do you want to talk about it? Or should I just make you forget about everything for a while?”

His feathers freshly ruffled, Jimmy leaned into Scott with a groan. “I don’t know. I feel like an idiot and I only have myself to blame.” His hand shot up to cover Scott’s mouth when he felt the retort coming. “Let me be sad, Scott, don’t tell me how typical this is.” He was melting down, his face pressed into Scott’s neck. He felt the Scotsman’s laugh more than heard it.

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” He pried Jimmy’s hand off his mouth. “How about I preen your feathers and you decide if you’ll tell me anything substantial.”

Jimmy considered. “Do I have to move? Because you’re very comfortable.”

“If you still trust me to do this while I can barely see what I’m working on? Sure.”

And with how busy all the feelings in his head and heart were, Jimmy found he was happy to let trust win out for this. “Go ahead, Petal.” If he didn’t mention the pet name, maybe Scott would pretend he hadn’t heard.

If his smug laugh was anything to go by, he wasn’t going to pretend any such thing. But without comment he slipped his hands under Jimmy’s shirt and carefully worked it up and over his head.

The air in the house was warm, thanks to the shared body heat and the furnace, but Jimmy still shivered. Blankets pressed into his skin and air snuck under his feathers. Soon, practiced hands scratched small circles onto his flesh. Jimmy melted further.

“Oh Jimmy, you haven’t touched these in ages.” Scott’s voice was mournful as his hands pet down the feathers on his partner’s back. “I thought you said you were taking care of yourself?” Fingertips wove through the yellow and white down, meeting the sensitive skin below and lighting Jimmy’s brain on fire.

He gasped, unable to hold in the expression. “I– I am. I get what I can reach.”

Scott’s fingers stilled and Jimmy tried to control his pout. “Poppy, most of your feathers are back here. You’re telling me you’ve only been cleaning your shoulders for the past, gods know how long?”

Indignant, Jimmy corrected, “And my arms! And those bits on my scalp.”

Scott snorted. But much to Jimmy’s relief he resumed the light scratching. “I’m not sure I should be doing this, lovely. Are you sure you don’t want a professional to take a look?”

Jimmy’s arms pulled Scott closer. “Frankly, I’m still not sure how you ended up doing this. If I weren’t heartbroken right now, those dumb things would be out of luck for much longer.”

“I am,” he began carefully picking debris out of the fluff, “deciding which part of that to focus on right now.”

Sensing his mistake, Jimmy decided simply not to care. It was Scott. He would have gotten the answers from him one way or another.

They cuddled in silence for several minutes. Jimmy was still too wound up to be at risk of falling asleep, but he was content with the current arrangement. Scott was focused, his humming rumbling against Jimmy’s ear and punctuated by little tugs on his feathers.

He hadn’t realized how uncomfortable his back had been until this moment. Every tiny, sharp pain of irritated skin and embedded dirt was being knocked away, one by one. Whenever Scott smoothed down an area and moved on to the next, Jimmy could feel the way the skin was settling after being angered for so long. There was some part of his mind that seems to have been screaming at him to take care of this for a while, but he was only now able to acknowledge it as it was calming down.

“Jimmy?”

The spoken word stirred him. “Mmmhm?” He should get a prize for his eloquence.

“It’s okay to be disappointed. I’m sorry Tango didn’t reciprocate, but I’m proud of you for shooting your shot.”

Goddamn Scott and his goddamn paying attention to the words he said.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Scott kept at preening as if he wasn’t stirring the pot of Jimmy’s emotions. “I’ve been missing you.”

And that was acknowledgement of a whole set of circumstances Jimmy had thought he’d squarely sorted out.

“And I don’t want to be a scumbag and take advantage of your distress, or heaven forbid make you think I’m celebrating this in any way.” He smoothed down another patch and moved along. “But if you’re out there being vulnerable you deserve to know. I miss you, but I’ll be happy as long as you’re happy.”

“Scott,” his mouth was dry and he wasn’t sure why, “I thought we were over? I thought that’s what you wanted?” He shook his head, what little he could pressed into the other body. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

The laugh carried a warmth through him that Jimmy could pretend was a purely platonic appreciation for friendship. “Honestly Jimmy? I don’t know. I’m not…good, for you. That hasn’t changed. I can’t say that I would be any closer to something you deserve if we were to try again. But like I said, you deserve to know.” One hand moved off the feathers to rub circles on Jimmy’s lower back. “I’m truly happy to be your friend, even if it means I’m nothing more. Tango is missing out on a genuine, beautiful partner by turning you down, and I hope that he sees that before this is all over.”

“Pretty words, pretty man.” Jimmy grumbled into Scott’s neck. “I’m not in a headspace to know what feelings are the important ones, so I’m not gonna make any declarations.” Instinctively, he kissed the soft skin in front of him. “But thank you.”

To his credit, Scott stuttered in his motions for just a second. “You want that cocoa before it gets cold?” As Jimmy started to protest, Scott continued. “I need you to move anyway so I can get at that other shoulder.”

So they drank cocoa, and groomed Jimmy, and cuddled like there was no outside world waiting to take this momentary peace away. And nothing was decided, no problems were solved. But as Jimmy slipped out of bed in the morning and brushed cyan hair out of Scott’s face; as he delivered a chaste kiss to the elf’s forehead and silently latched the door behind him; as he got an early start feeding animals and tending crops with the sunrise coming to meet him; he was content. Things would get better. They would be worse. But there was a wordless determination to see it through staked into his heart.

#iitv #flower husbands #just as close as im gonna get to promoing this like ever i think lol #i needed to feel better so i went back through the document #this still makes me feel good

19 notes · View notes

rasbburr · 1 year

Text

david wasn't exactly ready for living on his own

he knows he should've been and he knows his parents did absolutely everything they could to get him ready and he knew he felt like he had it. but a week after moving out of his parents' house, he realizes he really doesn't. he doesn't get it. everything made so much sense in life and in school and everywhere else. why didn't it make any sense now? he wasn't codependent on his family or slow or anything like that. it just caught him off guard.

eventually, he gets a part-time job at a nearby gas station that holds him over for a little while. nothing like his dreams of writing children's books, but hey, every author has their own gas station phase, right? the job can be slow and sometimes the customers aren't the most pleasant as nicely as he can put it, but it pays decently well and he makes enough money to barely pay the rent for his small apartment each month. it's pathetic, and he's okay with that.

he considers briefly asking his parents or his sister for advice, but sarah's already moved out of state with her girlfriend and is working on setting up her own sewing business (he wouldn't want to make her life any more complex than it already was. he knows how hard she worked to earn this and doesn't wanna get in the way.) and his parents have so much faith in him that he feels like he has to figure it out on his own. he'll get it soon, he tells himself, it'll all work out in a month or so.

and in a way, it does. it's one night during a late shift that a boy oddly familiar walks in. there's something strange about the way he walks and the look in his eyes as he scans the store's shelves that keeps david's eyes glued to him. finally, he walks up to the counter, setting down his items. and as he fishes in his pockets to pull out the coins he needs to pay, he glances up and squints at david's nametag. "..davey?"

oh, he hadn't heard that nickname in what felt like centuries. turns out, reconnecting with your old highschool best friend was a lot more relieving than he thought. sure, david had plenty of friends, but most of them were the "pass by eachother in the hallway and acknowledge eachother for a minute or two" friends. jack was a Friend friend. it started with jack asking for help on homework and studying, and quickly turned into meeting up after school every other day to see a movie or just hang out where they weren't supposed to on the school grounds. jack was a year behind him, so they didn't share any classes, but they always made it work. it was fun. so seeing him again was like a breath of fresh air, a trip back in time. they exchange numbers and promise to meet up with eachother sometime when david doesn't have work to catch up.

david quickly finds out that a lot's changed the moment they start talking. he knew jack had always been a bit of a pathological liar, but he was weirdly honest throughout recounting the year they'd been apart. apparently, after david graduated, it wasn't too far into senior year that jack decided to drop out. he tells david it was just a personal choice, and david doesn't ask for any further information. then all the sudden, it's his turn to share, and he doesn't find himself hesitating when he tells jack everything. his worries, struggles, work stories inbetween to lighten the mood. jack just sort of. takes it all in. honestly, david was the last person he ever thought would be in a tough spot after high school. so when he's done getting out his story, jack sort of smiles, and tell david he'd been looking for a place to stay for a while now.

flash forward about a week or so, and suddenly they're roommates. it was a hassle to get it all figured out and jack's stuff all moved in, but it gets resolved pretty quickly. jack's definitely not the.. cleanest roommate, but honestly? any company at that point was welcome, and david couldn't think of anyone better. they spend more time catching up, and figuring out exactly how the other person lived and the best ways to work together on things. it's the most normal david's felt in a long while.

jack cares. jack takes care of the things he doesn't quite understand, and helps him through other things. jack never once makes david feel like he's relying on him. it felt just how it should. he gets the hang of things, and it works out. money's still hard to get, but he's got a job interview coming up for something bigger and jack's started actually selling his art and for once he knows things are gonna be fine. he doesn't feel like a failure when jack's around. he learns to loosen up and not be so uptight. he learns it's okay to feel like you're behind sometimes. it's okay to want something better from yourself. it's okay to not have it all down the first time. it's okay to be himself. and that's all he could've ever asked for.

#newsies #livesies #92sies #jack kelly #david jacobs #davey jacobs #javid #javey #gotta admit i made up half of this on the spot lmao #anyways javid roommates is very special to me and idk why #hope this pleases the javid gods 🙏

9 notes · View notes

xamaxenta · 2 years

Text

Princes Ace and Luffy but they both hate everything about it, except Ace cleans up extremely well when he wants to

🙏🏽 arranged marriage between the Gol kingdom and the Newgate kingdom and the intial impressions were,,, dodgy considering Ace was dressed as a servant boy, covered in mud (roughhousing with Luffy, also dressed as a servants boy), dragging a giant river fish between himself and Luffy with his faithful hunting wolfdog Striker trotting behind with a full coat of mud masking her tricolour fur

Queen Rouge gives them both a look because waiting for her sons to come back whilst entertaining their to be allies herself was not polite at all, her husband Roger was out on a hunting trip looking to bring home big game to fill their celebration banquet with

the two princes track dirt and water and blood all across the palace to the hearing chambers where their esteemed guests await and Ace straight up declines the moment he sees the man waiting for him, he doesn’t wanna get married, especially not to the big old guy with the croissant moustache!!!

King Newgate realising Ace thought it was he who he would be betrothed to almost shatters the walls with his earthshaking laughter because absolutely NOT, asks the squire beside him where Marco has run off to

And the Squire (Haruta) informs their liege that Marco had become quite attached to the tapestry work around the halls and would be joining shortly… maybe…

Prince Marco’s tardiness already eases Ace’s opinions of him, if their guest was later than him then his mom won’t be too mad at him… if the look on her usually sweet face is anything to go by maybe he will survive the scolding later

then Marco arrives, windswept, handsome, equally dressed down in plain riding gear and before Ace can call Striker to heel, his muddy hound has launched herself at the newcomer, whippish tail wagging a mile a minute and Rouge watches in appalled horror as Marco is promptly taken down by large dirty canine

What a disaster, hikes up her skirts and storms across the hall to hiss at Luffy to stop laughing please, she needs to know how he escaped from the watchful eye of Dadan immediately! But she supposes her first son had a hand in his escape

Ace rescuing Marco from his overexcited dog, grabbing her by the collar and dragging her off bodily from the poor man beneath her and he just… freezes because Marco beams up at him from the tiled floor, his face may be shiny with dog spittle and his hair may have been licked into wet curls but he doesn’t seem too upset by the surprise attack

“I’m so sorry—!” Ace stammers out, more for his mother’s ears than his own willingness to apologise. Striker whines and squirms against her master’s hold when Marco props himself up onto his elbows, clearly reading his movement as more cues to play.

“Don’t be, she’s lovely.” Marco reaches out to scritch the pup behind her brown mud caked ear.

“Oh. Um. Thanks?” Ace glances over his shoulder to see his mother jut her chin at him threateningly, Luffy hides around her skirts, slouching from the weight of the fish in his arms.

“What’s her breed? I’ve never seen proportions like this.”

“She’s a wolfdog.” Ace mumbles, his chest constricting in guilt and confusion, unsure of why this would matter. Why Marco hadn’t yelled at him yet, why he wasn’t upset

“Fascinating, a wolfdog,” Marco murmurs scrubbing his knuckles beneath the wolfdog’s chin, drawing a low rumbly croon from her throat and thus his attention to the nametag dangling from her collar, “—Hello Striker, I’m Marco, would you mind introducing me to your owner?”

Licking her jaws, Striker shoves her nose into Marco’s palm in response, her ticklish whiskery muzzle drawing a soft laugh in response.

“Ace.” Sensing some kind of cue Ace answers instead, flustered at how kind Marco seemed to be.

“Ace?” Marco queries politely and Ace wants to look away, but out of spite and too much curiosity maintains their weird little staring contest, noting that Marco’s eyes were a very deep blue in colour.

“That’s me.” Ace affirms, mentally slaps himself for making this so awkward, so he tugs on Striker’s collar and whistle clicks for her to stand down. Thankfully after her boisterous greeting, the wolfdog seems far more willing to obey, “—sorry again about her, I dunno why she wanted to jump you like that,”

“Don’t worry about it, she just came home from hunting right?” Marco glances around them at Luffy who has buised himself with securing his grip inside the fish’s gills

“Yeah but that’s still no excuse.” Ace argues back, half heartedly because Marco was correct, the lasting adrenaline had Striker eager to pounce on the next new moving thing.

“Water under the bridge, Ace. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Marco smiles warmly at the younger Prince.

and there was no handshake, no bows, no courtly mannerisms or proprietary to be had when Ace first met and fell in love with his future husband (much to Rouge’s dismay but later was relieved to find out that King Newgate didn’t mind the chaotic introductions one bit)

#marcoace fantasy au #:’3 i love them your honour #Ace’s rambunctious dog jumps on and lays flat Marco who was late to the party anywy #marco being so nice and genuine and disregarding of propriety is what had Ace crushing hard!!!#i kiss them both between my hands 😭🥺🥺#basically Marco is every bit the adventurous wildhearted man Ace is :3c #so!!! they can go wrestle in the mud together and no one can tell them they cant skdhdh #long post sorry #also Marco when he sees Ace cleaned up? dressed modestly in a finer tunic and vest etc??? instant realisation that Ace is gorgeous

36 notes · View notes

self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 2 years

Text

Truth in Myth | Steven Grant x Reader

Prompt: Gold

Words: 1445

Fandom: Moon Knight (MCU)

A/N: Takes place some time after the events of Moon Knight. Ah, yes. Another fic where the reader flirts with a character at their workplace. I love it when Steven geeks out.

Summary: Reader visits the National Art Gallery as part of their research and runs into Steven Grant of the gift shop.

There was a steady flow of people traveling in and out of the gallery, another chatty group of students flooding out of the entrance as they finished their tour. You adjusted your backpack strap and made your way through towards the Ancient Egypt exhibit. There were stories that your grandparents had told you that filled you with wonder, that the stuff of legends and myths were real. As the world grew stranger and the possibilities almost limitless, a good part of you felt that those stories were true.

You marveled at the scope of the room, wondering where you should start. Sliding your backpack off, you fished out your notebook and pen and decided to work clockwise around the room. You didn’t know exactly what to look for, but you had a feeling that you’d just know when you saw it. Proof of some kind that some kind of celestial beings were walking among us. Everyone knew of Thor and Loki, but they were beings from another planet labeled as gods. What more of these so-called gods were out there?

You weren’t going to lie, you had an egyptology phase, sparked by The Mummy and the History channel, but it’s been some time since you’ve absorbed all of those ancient egypt encyclopedias and egyptian history books. Walking around the exhibit, you made a rough sketch of the artifact or art piece and took notes on the images and the info card then moved on to the next one. You felt eyes on the back of your head, but you shrugged it off as just the security guards keeping an eye on any suspicious persons.

“Oh, those canopic jars are quite interesting,” a voice piped up next to you.

You jumped, whipping your head around to see a man with dark curly hair and tired brown eyes wearing a slightly oversized gray coat and a nametag with the name ‘Steven’ on it. He smiled apologetically, then promptly continued on with his rambles.

“Completely intact, these ones,” he said, pointing at them. “Rarity, given how many graverobbers would kill to get a hand on one of these. You see, each jar has a lid that was originally just plain. Eventually, they added inscriptions and shaped the lids as human heads. By the nineteenth dynasty, they were made to be the four sons of Horus to guard its contents. Do you know what they would put in those jars?”

“Organs, right?” you said, lowering your notebook.

He nodded enthusiastically. “You see, the ancient Egyptians believed that they needed those organs in the afterlife: the stomach, intestines, lungs, and the liver.”

“What about the heart? It’s weighed by… Anubis?” you said with uncertainty, tilting your head.

His eyes widened in delight, inching closer. “So, you know some things about the afterlife,” he said excitedly.

“Not from personal experience,” you joked.

There was a flicker in his eyes, a kind of darkness that was gone in an instant. He chuckled, turning back to the display. “The heart was believed to be the seat of the soul, so they left it in the body. So, these jars here, you see, the lids are shaped like a human’s, so this was before the nineteenth dynasty. They don’t always use these jars for storage, of course. Eventually, their embalming techniques improved and they were able to preserve the organs inside the body while the jars remain as a feature. Now, the inscriptions here -”

“Steve! Stop pestering the guests!” a blonde woman shouted, her hands on her hips as she scowled at him. “And get back to work! You’re lucky I gave you back your job, I swear… I’m making you do inventory.” She shook her head and walked away.

“It… It’s Steven!” he called back, then mumbled, “For the hundredths time.”

You smiled sympathetically. “I’ve taken a lot of your time.”

“No, no. You’re fine. I was the one bothering you, so… I’ll let you continue on with your… browsing.” He gestured vaguely at the rest of the exhibit.

“I’ll be sure to stop by the gift shop on my way out,” you said.

He smiled. “Please do. We’ve got, uh, plush hippos that’s supposed to be Tawaret and a new shipment of chocolate pyramids wrapped in gold tinfoil and a t-shirt with King Tut’s mask and -”

“I’ll check it out. Thank you, Steven,” you said, turning to him. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Yeah, it was lovely. Really lovely…,” he trailed off, his eyes drifting over to the glass display case. He frowned, muttering something under his breath and shaking his head, his hands gesturing about as he spoke to his reflection.

“I should, um, I’ll see you later,” you excused yourself, backing away before heading over to the next section of displays. You didn’t know what that was about, but you didn’t want to assume.

After you went around the exhibit once, you decided to call it a day, packing up your notebook and pen. You made sure to look for the gift shop, finding Steven ringing up a small family with a tired smile on his face. The little boy snatched the recently purchased chocolate from the counter and started talking about the Great Pyramid and the pharaoh that it was built over.

There was a glint in Steven’s eyes and you could just see him inhale a breath, ready to go on a tangent and share the enthusiasm with the boy when the parents dragged him away and told him to stop bothering the gift shop worker. The boy twisted around and waved at Steven, turning back to try and keep up with his parents’ pace.

“The plushie looks cute,” you commented, picking one up and squishing it.

Steven’s dejected look melted away as his gaze landed on you. “Oh, she’s quite lovely, actually,” he said, smiling almost knowingly. He blinked, correcting himself. “I mean, I’ve heard that a lot of people like how soft and cute the plushie is. Perfect gift for a loved one.”

“I’m really tempted to get one now. Is that how you make your sales?”

“I, well, it doesn’t always work, but it helps when people come in with their kids or their dates, you know?” He scratches his head and gestures to all the merchandise. “Anyways, did you get what you came here for?”

“Well, I looked around -”

“You were taking notes of some of the displays, particularly ones that depicted the Ennead,” he said. “An interesting bunch, they are. Stubborn and a bit old-fashioned, too, in my opinion, but I supposed that’s what you expect with immortal beings who don’t attempt to understand the people that they want to be worshiped by. You can try talking to them, but everything gets so formal. Some meetings can be an email, but what can you do?”

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been speaking as if you’ve met them. Personally.”

His eyes widened as he shook his head insistently. “Oh, no, no. I guess that’s the side effect of working at a place like this, innit? I see their statues and stuff everyday that it feels like I know them. Everyone knows that they’re all myths and legends in the end,” he said.

You hummed, picking out the Tawaret plushie, chocolate pyramid, and a National Art Gallery hoodie. Steven promptly rang you up and neatly packed them in a brown bag. You watched him closely, seeing his eyes flicker back and forth between a plastic sign next to the register and you.

“You know,” you said, sliding the bag over to you. “My grandparents once told me stories about gods that would select humans to be their champion in order to carry out their will in the mortal realm.”

Steven stiffened. “Really?” he asked slowly.

“Yeah, my grandma said that her family came from a line of avatars and then suddenly it just stopped. Not sure exactly when. And then there’s all these theories out there, that these avatars actually existed throughout history and taken on different forms, like prophets.” You shrugged, stepping away from the register. “Thought I’d find something here.”

You turned to leave and made it halfway down the steps when you heard Steven calling out after you. He jogged down the stairs, panting as he caught up. He stepped down to be in front of you, his eyes sharp and stern. His shoulders squared up and his chin raised, very unlike his usual slightly slouched posture. It was then you remembered that he had called your name, but you never gave that to him. And was that an American accent?

“We have a lot to discuss,” he said.

#writersmonth2022 #writer's month #steven grant x reader #steven grant #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #mcu imagine #marvel imagine #moon knight #brief appearance of Marc Spector in the end #I also had an egyptology phase #I was so sure that I was going to be an archaeologist too

40 notes · View notes