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bangaveragewhitewine · 2 years ago

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soft slow, morning glow

Steve Harrington x Reader

A prosaic peek at Steve Harrington’s inability to sleep in and stay in bed and his reasons for changing his ways.

October 1997; a cosy easy morning, where kisses are shared and ABBA songs are sung as a lullaby.

Word count: 4.3K

Content/Warnings: TW for talk of bleeding during pregnancy, borderline neglectful parents.

Mention of sex (18+), not explicit. This contains dad!Steve & mom! reader toward the end; pregnant reader. Kinda rambling. Very soft. Low angst (but not none).

Note: Thank you to my ST rewatch for making me fall for Steve all over again.

Proofread by @specialagentmonkey | Divider by @silkholland

Steve Harrington was always an early riser.

As a honey-haired little boy, he spent Saturday mornings on the sofa watching cartoons with the volume dialled low as his parents slept. He knew not to make a mess with the cereal, or the milk, rewarded with a stack of pancakes or a new toy for keeping himself amused as Richard and Katherine Harrington slept off the previous evening’s dinner party hangover.

Always the first awake at sleepovers, he would wait with bated breath for Tommy to stir or feign a sneeze to wake him.

He never had to be dragged from bed to go to school during the week, always up and at ‘em to go see his friends, play tag and swap baseball cards on the playground.

As a sporty and popular teenager, he started running when he didn’t have early swim practice or basketball. Steve rose with the sun and waved to his neighbours politely as his shiny sneakers slapped the pavements of Loch Nora.

He was never sure what he was running from, or towards, but the burn of chilly morning air in his lungs made him feel alive.

When he started going to house parties and hangouts on Saturday nights, his Sundays still started early, dragged to show face at his parent’s church. It was less about faith and god and all about appearances. He snuck out of bedroom windows, hopped white picket fences as the sun rose, fought hangovers as the priest’s voice droned and caught the eyes of pretty girls from the convent school a town over - they always blushed when he smiled at them or dropped them a sly little wink as the collection plate was passed around.

When his parents started travelling more, after the shortlived re-commitment to the church, Steve’s Sunday morning hangovers were kept at bay with cold swims in the pool or hot coffee and loud music in the kitchen as he tried and failed to focus on homework.

Steve started working right out of school as punishment for unsubmitted college applications and lower-than-predicted grades. He volunteered for the opening shifts in Scoops Ahoy and Family Video - he liked the responsibility and having a purpose, having an excuse to be out of the house before his parents could tutt and fuss and lecture him. It was easier when they weren’t there; when the office in Indy needed Richard’s attention more than his wife and son did, when Katherine spotted smears of lipstick on his collars again and insisted she spend some time with him in the city apartment.

In their absence, the Harrington house was a mausoleum of failure that Steve couldn’t bear to be in. So he raised his hand for early delivery shifts and stock takes and drove his friends to school when he didn’t have to, already awake after another night of nightmares, memories of flying fists.

Steve Harrington rose early and burned bright; burned out quickly when he realised he didn’t know what to do with himself or what his purpose was.

He filled his time with making himself useful to other people, chasing and seeking a purpose or a person to fill the gaps and spaces in his chest; the hollows once reserved for the people who didn’t return the outpouring of love he offered so freely, so innocently. He found and made a rag-bag bunch of friends, a found family, who returned the love he deserved in the ways they knew how. Woven and knotted friendship bracelets, squished candy bars, mixtapes, weed sold and rolled at buddy rates or for nothing at all.

Steve Harrington moved to the city with his best friends; a Beemer and a battered van filled with boxes and suitcases. The early morning drive made Steve Harrington glow golden in the rising sun, his excited eyes hidden behind dark-tinted sunglasses as Robin Buckley snored in the passenger seat and Eddie Munson listened to metal at an ear-bleeding volume in his van and flipped Steve off with that big grin in the rearview mirror. They stopped for strong coffee and sweet pancakes and started a new chapter in the city.

When you fell in love with Steve in 1990, he found a reason to stay in bed a little longer. A reason to slow down, soak up the sunshine glow you shone on him.

You spent Saturday nights with friends, a patchwork group cheering on Corroded Coffin and selling T-shirts and tapes at a merch table when they scored a bigger venue and a bigger crowd. Movie nights and takeout Chinese food and a stack of new and old movies from Blockbuster. Date nights at swanky bars and restaurants, with flickering candles and pizza on the way home because you didn’t want the night to end yet. You spent hours in bed together, night and morning, talking about everything under the rising sun and dwindling moon, learning about each other’s life and mapping each other’s body with kisses and gentle touches.

In the morning he gazed at your sleepy softness and took his own pulse to make sure he wasn’t dying. No heart attack, just falling in love.

He brought you cups of coffee and sweet pastries from the bakery a block away when his limbs felt restless. He always got back into bed with you to cuddle and while away the morning without a moment wasted. With Steve, those mornings were syrupy slow; he worshipped you between your thighs and held your hands as the headboard bashed against the wall.

You became Mrs. Steve Harrington in the spring of ‘94.

A small wedding. A big party for your friends. A honeymoon week where every morning felt like a perfect lazy Saturday.

When Steve found his reason to stay in bed, together you created a reason that kept you from it.

Bethany Rose Harrington. Born June 21st 1995.

Beth had her Daddy’s eyes and her Mama’s nose, and the sweetest little dimples in her smiley pink cheeks. She was her Daddy’s little doughnut, her Mama’s little bee. She inherited Steve’s charm and wrapped her extensive collection of doting uncles and aunts right around her tiny finger. She took after you in the way that Steve was completely and utterly in love with her.

Just like her Dad, Beth liked to start the day early. After a few weeks of seeking out and settling into a routine, Steve spent the earliest part of the day feeding his little Bethie her bottle of milk in the cosy armchair nestled in the corner of her pale yellow nursery. As he watched her big brown eyes gaze and blink, felt her tiny fist wrap around his finger, Steve decided that these were the happiest mornings of his life.

On those soft and slow mornings, you could hear Steve’s low murmur to your little girl through the baby monitor when his excitement to see her gummy smile or stop her sad fat tears bypassed the off-switch. You fell back asleep to the sound of Steve telling Beth about how the Cubs and the Bulls (their teams now) were doing this season, or about the walk in the park you were going to go on once ‘beautiful mama’ was awake. He sang to her; never typical lullabies, Queen and ABBA and Dusty Springfield.

Steve basked in the joy of her little smiles, soaked in the soft cooing noises as Beth found her voice to talk back to her Daddy. When she fell asleep again, milk-drunk with her cheek against his heartbeat, Steve watched the morning sky shift and brighten and listened out for the sound of your waking time. The soft thud and shuffle from bed to bathroom, running water, your yawn and stretch, the gentle steps to seek and find him and your little treasure. You filled reams of camera film, documenting Steve as a Dad, your little girl's first weeks and months. Lit by morning light, by afternoon sun and the shade of the tree in your yard, and dusky nighttime lit by nightlights.

When your laundry list of chores allowed it, you took one of your three options on those mornings of parenthood - take turns to bask in the warmth of lavender and milk-scented baby cuddles while the other showered; bring the sleeping beauty back to your bed to gaze at the ten fingers and ten toes you had created together; or leave the sleepy and full-tummied grub to sleep in her crib again to spend the slow dawn hours holding each other and trading kisses, and knotting yourselves up in the sheets together once the doctor gave you the all-clear and a prescription for birth control.

You did plenty of all three.

Summer turned to Autumn, then Winter, and Steve balanced being a father and husband with keeping a roof over your heads and the final year of his programme to get his qualification to become a guidance counsellor. His mornings with Beth were part of his routine, leaving her smiling and drooly for you when he kissed his girls goodbye. Missing him during full days of supervised sessions and hours in the college library when he wasn’t in classes bonded you and Beth, thick as thieves and lovestruck for the golden Harrington boy-turned-man. You made sure that he never missed a moment with how many pictures you took, and Beth saved all of her firsts for when he was home. You coached her to say ‘dada’ in Steve’s absence and he sobbed happy tears when she parroted it back. (He had been coaching her to say ‘mama’ during their early mornings together).

Your late nights of talking turned to early-to-bed nights, sleeping when the baby slept and when your little home was some semblance of clean and tidy. Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bethie’s breath on the monitor, your heart under his cheek and the soft stroke of your fingers in his hair, along the length of his arm.

Both of you were exhausted. Neither of you had ever been happier.

When he graduated in the Summer, you and Beth cheered and clapped for your golden boy along with his best friends - the loudest bunch in the college auditorium. A picture of the Harrington trio - Steve in his shirt and tie and graduation gown balancing a smiley baby and his degree as you kiss his cheek and tickle Beth’s tummy for the camera - was placed with pride on his desk when he started a counsellor job that landed in his lap in the late summer of ‘96. He coached basketball two afternoons a week on the side; it was perfect for him.

You go back to work part-time and you balance taking care of Beth and each other with the utmost care. With help from your family and Steve’s trust fund from the Harrington’s, you make it work. You are what he holds dear, pride of place in the centre of his chest, once vacant and hollow. The gaping space he yearned to fill with the wrong friends, the wrong girls, watery beer and too many cigarettes.

By the Fall of ‘97, Steve had learned to sleep again. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Enjoy your days off. Enjoy every moment. He is. He’s so tired but never happier.

This morning, you wake first.

Your little house in the Chicago suburbs is bathed in autumn darkness on a lazy Saturday. Six a.m. and Steve snores peacefully.

Beth is silent, dreaming of her two favourite things: fairies and pancakes. That top five list favourites is rounded out by her Daddy and Mama and Mrs. Murphy’s orange cat that visits the backyard.

The littlest Harrington is an early bird too, twirling in your tummy beneath Steve’s protective hand. Until Steve can take the morning shift, you are the early riser.

Beth is your sleepy little dreamer, she loves her bed like her Mama. She sneaks in between you and Steve (and the bump now too) when she wakes too early; you spend those mornings gazing and counting fingers and toes again like when she was a tiny thing.

This baby however seems to take after her father’s love of sport, the way she practices the aim and strength of her kicks on your bladder. You don’t officially know yet (they were less than cooperative at the last ultrasound), but you know it’s a girl. Steve swayed to boy for a day or two before realising you were right. Maybe next time…

The flush and sigh-groan from your aching back pulls Steve from sleep. When you pad back in from the little bathroom, he’s just about upright and wild-haired.

“Y’okay?” Eyes swollen with sleep, he reaches blindly for you to help you back into the cosy nest of blankets.

“Mm, needed to pee.”

You try to keep your cold feet away but Steve sandwiches them between his own size fourteen and always warm feet. His lips brush your shoulder and the back of your neck when you settle into a comfortable position; Bump dictates what will suffice as ‘comfortable’ and settles under her father’s comforting hand. Harrington’s magic touch is famed in your home; settling gassy babies and working out knotted shoulders, fixing leaky faucets and carrying all of the groceries inside in two heavy handfuls, making shadow-puppet shows on the bedroom wall and holding back your hair when you’re not well.

Slowly, small-spooned by Steve’s bigger body, you drift again. Sleep comes and goes like an inconsistent tide, and you are anchored safely in his arms. Baby names ebb and flow into your tired head and you wish Steve was awake to tell you what he thought of ‘Heather’ or ‘Ava’. Whether your (very slow) re-read of Little Women was influencing you too much to ‘Josie’. You wonder about how much candy you should get for the trick-or-treaters, and whether Beth will be too scared to help you answer the door to them this year.

You wish he was awake - because you always wish your every waking moment was spent with Steve Harrington - but you’re so glad he is sleeping soundly, snoring sweetly behind you. You wish you could take more responsibility, take the pressure he puts on his own shoulders from him, but this pregnancy is less easy than the first and you hate that you can’t do it all anymore. You take solace in the fact that Steve is asleep, not awake worrying or nesting.

Turning in his sleepy hold, you place his hand back on the bump to keep the littlest Harrington settled and content, and watch your handsome husband look like the teenager you wish you had known. You map the laughter lines instead of the ones etched by worry, counting the happy memories (which are insurmountable) as you fall back to sleep with him at last.

Sleeping Beauty herself slumbers on until almost 8 a.m., meaning that both you and Steve sleep until almost 8 a.m. too - later on you will toast coffee (decaf for you) over that parent win. For the next few months, the weekends mean Steve will be hitting snooze on his body clock when the chances arise.

This morning Beth’s little voice sings his name down the hall. Steve wakes with a smile and kisses your sleepy face as you stretch and peel your eyes open.

“You’re up, Coach.” Your voice is a tired yawn, mumbled into the fluffy duvet Steve untangles himself from.

“Bring her in for cuddles please.” You pout for a tired kiss and hum happily when he grants your wish.

Steve’s ankles crack as he walks from your room to Beth’s. She’s wide awake and wild-haired, matching her Dad, and she sits up in her bed with her bunny-teddy clutched in her fist.

“Hi bumblebee,” he gasps, his tiredness swept away by his genuine joy to see her. Steve lays down on her too-small-for-him baby bed and pretends to get comfy to sleep again. “Sleepover?” he asks, opening his arm for her.

“Nooooo, yo’bed!” Her sweet voice crackles with sleepiness and the remnants of a cold she picked up as the seasons changed.

In the warmth of your bed, you can hear the mini-eye-roll she’s giving her Dad as he plays up to her dramatics. Uncle Dustin has a lot to answer for.

“Bethie,” you call from your nest, “I miss you.”

Steve watches with barely restrained amusement as her face beams bright like sunshine before leaving him in the lurch to seek out Mama. “Hey! What about me?!”

You can hear his grumbling as he hauls himself up from the tiny toddler bed but your focus is the bundle of sunshine that bounds her way to your room in her sky-blue jammies. Pushing messy hair from her face, she squeaks happily as you lift her before Steve can beat you to it. You didn’t want another moment apart from your girl and she burrows against your chest under the toasty-warm duvet.

“Morning Betty Boop.” You press kisses to her smiling face and hear Steve stomp and flop back into the room and into the bed.

“Is Daddy not invited to this love-in? Just for Mama and Beth?” he asks, scowling at your smushed-together faces.

You cuddle Beth and stroke her back as the girl shifts her impish gaze to Steve. “What do you think, Betty? Kisses for Dada?”

She can never ever resist him and reach-grabs out to be gathered in his big strong arms for kisses and cuddles.

Steve lights up, features relaxing from his feigned annoyance, as he gives and receives morning kisses. You are gathered up alongside the titch of a girl and with her help, you smother kisses all over Steve’s happy face.

“Never ever not invited to the love-in, my love.” You kiss his shadowed jaw once and tuck yourself under his arm.

“Kiss d’baby?” Beth’s messy head pops up and looks at you hopefully.

“You wanna say good morning to Baby?” Steve asks, and she nods. “Mama?”

“I think she’s asleep, but I bet she’ll wake up when she hears Big Sis and Dada.” Beneath the pitched tent of the duvet, you lift Steve’s t-shirt and present the rounded bump for inclusion in the morning love-in.

Beth has been immensely eager to meet her baby since she took notice of your bump and realised the new baby was actually in there.

The little girl’s pillow-soft cheek rests against the curve as she hugs around your middle. “Moh’nin, baby.” Her little voice is still a little stuffed up, nasal.

Your heart and tears swell as you watch her with Steve, who kisses the bump and murmurs hello. You’re at that point of pregnancy where you could cry when the wind changes and you cover your eyes so Beth won’t go out in sympathy-tears with you.

Steve’s big hand squeezes your hand as he distracts Beth, who babbles in toddler talk to her sibling. His eyes are wide and worried as he looks up and sees the hitch of your chest. He’s had that worried look since you bled at ten weeks and the doctor put you on bed rest, just three weeks into actually knowing you were pregnant. Everything has settled bar your hormones and emotions; two perfect heartbeats, an active healthy baby, a happy but tired Mom. Steve is more scared now than he was with Beth but pretends to be brave for you.

You swipe at your hot tears, dry your hand in your t-shirt before reaching down to stroke through Steve’s thick hair.

“M’okay.” You give him a watery smile. “She’s just… so sweet, Stevie.”

Moving up to lie along your side, Steve wipes your cheek and presses a kiss to the trail of the tears left behind. “Sweetest. Sweet Bee. Feelin’ okay?”

His hand stays on top of your bump and then passes over Bethany’s bedhead when she looks up curiously.

Seeing that she is missing out, Beth decides she has had enough and wants to cuddle with you instead of the baby who won’t kick back hello. She wiggles up to lie on Steve’s chest, little fingers poking into the freckles and moles as he pulls the duvet back around you all like a cosy cocoon.

“Feeling good. You okay?”

Steve has tucked away his worry again, but you still see the pinch in his brow - though the curious little fingers might be the reason for that.

“Peachy.” He chases the poking fingers with a growling kiss, pulling a shrieking giggle from Beth. “Hello, can I help you? Why are we poking Daddy this morning, huh?”

You giggle with Beth and kiss where her fingers had pressed, modelling the gentle sweetness you know she possesses in multitudes. “Poor Daddy. See, Betty? Gentle kissies.” A kiss is snuck onto his mouth for good measure.

“Daddy,” Beth sing-songs, patting his cheek lovingly.

“Bethie,” Steve sings back to her, echoing her melody. He accepts a wet baby-kiss as you curl close to them both.

You twirl a finger in the messy wave of her hair. “What will we do today? Do you want to get some library books? Or we could… go to the park?”

Steve pats her back gently. “Oh wow. All the possibilities, huh?” His lips press to Beth’s forehead as she cuddles up to him, her fingers distracted by the gold chain he wears around his neck. “Gentle, please.” He kisses her head again and looks at you. “We can do both… Go get a t-r-e-a-t?”

You smile and nod, covering Steve’s hand on Beth’s small back. “I like t-r-e-a-ts. What do you want to do, big guy?”

Steve’s fingers slot with yours. His lips brush your head as you share his pillow - the firm one to help with his neck pain. “Just be with you two. Could stay right here all day and I’d be the happiest guy.”

You press your nose against his cheek and close your eyes; you’re both surrounded by your favourite people, it is utter bliss.

“I love you.” Your voice is soft and tired against his stubbly jaw.

“Love you. So much, babe.”

Steve tilts his head so you can share a morning-breath-be-damned kiss. He wishes he had woke up sooner, before the wide-eyed toddler, so that he could have showered you with kisses, made out like teenagers (despite the baby bump between you).

“No! Me!” The frustrated little whine makes you smile apologetically to each other, chancing one more peck before you both look to scowling Beth.

“Sorry, Bee. Mama’s too delicious for me to resist.”

“Steve!” you tuck your face in his neck as you laugh, an affectionate headbutt.

“What? The kid’s gotta know.”

The two-year-old smushes her face to her Dad’s chest, still too little to comprehend her Dad’s silly banter when she just wants to be the centre of both of your attention. You have a few months left to figure that out before the baby arrives, but it scares you that she might feel like she’s not the best thing that ever happened you (bar her Dad, of course).

Your pout matches hers and you push back the stinging Mom Guilt Tears. She is only coaxed away with sweet little cheek-kisses from you as you hum-sing Take a Chance on Me (accompanied by Steve’s tapping fingers on her back ‘take a chance, take a chance, take a, take a chance-chance.)

The girl's smile splits her frustrated face, a quiet giggle as she is serenaded by her current favourite song (you have just got I Was Made For Lovin’ You out of your head after Steve had introduced her to KISS in the car). Her little arm hooks around your head as you whisper how much you love her, soft voice tickling her ear and cheek.

Beth’s laughter coaxes a fluttering kick against your belly, which Steve feels against his side as you spoon against him. He wears the same wide-eyed joy on his face every time he has felt your babies kick.

“Oo, she’s awake again. Finally joining the party.” You rest your hand against the side of your rounded belly and telepathically tell the tiny one how much you love them too, how you can’t wait to meet them but please stay in there until they’re fully cooked and ready.

Steve’s free hand - the one not keeping Beth upright as she sits up on his torso - joins yours and echoes your telepathic communication to the littlest Harrington - I love you, I can’t wait to hold you, please stay safe in there and be nice to your Mom.

His wide palm on your bump settles the fluttering before she aims her kick right against it Hi Dad! Okay, Dad!

You share a secret little smile with him and kiss his cheek as his eyes shimmer before rolling onto your achy back, feeling the satisfaction of the pop and crack as your spine relaxes against the mattress. Steve’s hand stays on your belly, and you hug his arm to your chest, as Beth sings her toddler-babble version of an ABBA mashup for you both from her throne.

Steve’s face hurts from smiling as he listens to her, hears some semblance of the lyrics in Beth-speak. He doesn’t remember mornings like this with his parents, few and far between were the times he was even allowed to cuddle with them in bed on a weekend morning.

You glance at his face, watching shifting emotions come and go as he remembers, tries to forget and focuses on the memories being made right now in your cosy nest of a bed. You squeeze his arm and hold his hand on your belly - matching gold wedding rings clicking against each other as your fingers intertwine.

Steve squeezes your hand, three pulses. There is simply nowhere he would rather be.

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metalmonki · 4 days ago

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It's All So Wrong, Yet So So Right

Cheater!Bobby Nash x Cheater!Reader

4.2k word count

Summary Your a firefighter with the 118. Your engaged to Evan Buckley who you've been madly in love with for 4 years. Life is perfect. That is until a late night in the fire house sees a spark between you and your Captain Bobby Nash who happens to be a married man.

Slow Burn/Fluff/Angst/Cheaters

Next Chapter

Authors Note: I know this seems super fast paced but the next chapter will make it make sense. Trust the process!

Walking into the firehouse everything hits me—the smell of truck grease, the faint whiff of yesterday’s coffee grounds, and the buzz of a shift about to start—it makes my blood hum. Or maybe it’s just the caffeine kicking in.

Buck’s beside me, coffee in one hand, jacket slung over his shoulder, looking way too smug for someone who definitely hit snooze three times.

“So,” I say, nudging him with my hip as we walk toward the doors, “I saw a listing in Silver Lake. Three bedrooms, little backyard, big kitchen. I mean, it’s not exactly Malibu, but…”

He groans. Loudly. “Oh no, not house talk before breakfast. I’m barely awake.”

“That’s what the coffee’s for,” I tease, taking a long sip from my own cup.

Behind us, boots scuff against the pavement and Eddie’s voice joins the mix. “Morning. You two making real estate moves already?”

“Trying to,” I say, glancing back at him. “Emphasis on trying.”

“We’re discussing it,” Buck clarifies, giving me a sideways look. “Apparently, one bedroom is suddenly unacceptable.”

I smirk. “It’s fine, if you like storing laundry on top of your dresser.”

“My system works,” he insists.

“You have a pile labeled ‘clean-ish,’ Buck.”

Eddie chuckles, falling into step with us. “So what’s the rush? You planning to make room for some mini firefighters?”

And just like that, the conversation takes off in a direction I wasn’t ready for at 7:53 a.m.

We hit the locker room, everyone falling into their usual rhythm—shirts swapped out for uniforms, radios clipped, boots stomped down tight.

“Did I hear something about babies?” Hen calls as she walks in, Chimney right behind her with Ravi in tow.

“Whoa,” I say, holding up a hand. “We are not having this conversation yet.”

“Oh, we’re having it,” Chim grins. “What, you two finally get engaged and now it’s white picket fences and matching lunchboxes?”

Buck shuts his locker with a little more force than necessary. “Okay, let’s just slow way down. Not that I don’t want kids—because I do—but maybe let us find a place with, like, a closet before we start talking diapers and car seats.”

I can feel the blush creep up my neck but I’m grateful. Buck’s not wrong—it’s been on my mind, yeah, but there’s a long road between apartment hunting and family planning.

We head upstairs to the kitchen where the smell of bacon and pancakes is enough to make me forget the chaos downstairs. Captain Nash is at the stove, flipping something in a pan like a Food Network host who just happens to command a firehouse.

“Morning,” Bobby greets us, looking over his shoulder. “Smells like big life decisions are happening down there.”

I laugh and slide into a seat at the table. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’ve earned it,” he says, placing the last of the food on the table. “Now dig in before—”

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

The alarm cuts through the kitchen like a slap. Every fork freezes mid-air.

“Of course,” Buck mutters.

“Station 118, structure fire reported, corner of West 6th and Bixel—possible entrapment. Respond Code Three.”

“Move!” Bobby barks, already headed for the pole.

We’re all up in a flash, breakfast forgotten, adrenaline already spiking.

Back to work.

I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of the rush that comes with a call. No matter how many times I’ve slid down that pole or pulled on my turnout gear in record time, there’s always a jolt of something electric in my chest. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s purpose.

We load into the engine fast—Eddie at the wheel, Bobby beside him in the passenger seat. I jump into the back with Buck and Ravi. Hen and Chim take their spot in the ambulance. The sirens wail a second later, and we’re flying down the street, weaving through early morning traffic as the city wakes up around us.

“Structure fire with possible entrapment,” Bobby’s voice goes over the radio to the other rig. “Let’s stay sharp, team.”

My fingers tighten around the strap I’m gripping. Possible entrapment. That changes things. That heightens things.

Buck turns slightly in his seat, catching my eye. He doesn’t say anything, but I know that look. It says be careful. It says don’t do anything stupid. It says I love you, in that weird firefighter way we’ve all learned to speak.

We round the corner onto West 6th and I spot the smoke before I see the flames—gray-black tendrils twisting into the sky from a two-story home, flames licking out from a shattered front window.

“Looks like the fire’s concentrated in the living room and heading up the stairs,” Eddie reports as we jump out. “Neighbors said someone might still be inside.”

“Alright,” Bobby says, already donning his SCBA. “Eddie, Buck, Y/N—you’re going in for search and rescue. Hen, Chim, Ravi—set up the hose line and get that fire under control.”

I yank on my mask and pull my helmet tight. No time to think. Just move.

We head in as a team, Buck kicking down the already-charred front door. The heat punches me in the chest the second we step inside. Visibility’s crap, and the smoke is thick—like breathing in cotton soaked in gasoline.

“Y/N, take the right,” Buck orders. “Eddie and I will sweep left and head upstairs.”

I nod and drop low, flashlight cutting through the haze as I move past what used to be a coffee table. Couch is half-consumed by flames. Family photos are curling on the wall like they’re ashamed to be here.

“Fire Department!” I shout. “Call out if you can hear me!”

A creak to my right makes me freeze. I shine my light that way and spot a shape—small, low to the floor. A kid. Crawling, coughing, eyes wide with fear.

“I got one!” I yell.

I move fast, scooping the kid into my arms and wrapping my turnout jacket around him to shield his face from the worst of it.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you,” I say, even though my voice sounds muffled in my mask. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Y/N, status?” Buck’s voice crackles in my radio.

“Got a kid, heading out now.”

The way back feels longer. The fire’s angrier now, growling through the ceiling as I dodge falling debris and push through the front door.

Hen meets me on the front lawn with a medical bag, already on her knees to check the boy’s vitals. Chim’s got the hose steady, and water’s pounding the house in steady, determined arcs.

“Go back in!” Bobby shouts from behind his mask. “Second victim reported upstairs!”

I don’t even hesitate. I catch Buck and Eddie halfway up the staircase as they’re hauling an unconscious woman over Eddie’s shoulder.

“Fire’s about to eat the roof!” Buck yells. “Let’s go!”

We move like a unit—trained, automatic, in sync. I cover them as they descend, shielding their backs from the worst of the heat as we escape through the now-sagging front doorway.

The woman’s handed off to paramedics before we even finish stripping our gear. I kneel on the grass, gasping in clean air like it’s a gift.

Buck’s hand finds mine, and I squeeze it. Hard.

“You good?” he asks, crouching beside me.

I nod. “Kid’s alive. Woman’s still breathing. I’m good.”

There’s soot on his cheeks, sweat beading beneath his helmet, and his eyes are all I see for a second. Bright. Worried. Loving.

“I know we were joking earlier,” I say between breaths, “but if we ever do have kids—”

“We’re teaching them to run the other way from fire,” he finishes for me, a crooked grin spreading.

“Exactly.”

…

If there’s one thing they never show you in the firehouse recruitment brochures, it’s the mountain of paperwork that follows every major call. For every life saved, there are twelve forms to fill out in triplicate. If the fire didn’t kill me, the keyboard just might.

I let out a slow breath, resting my forehead against the edge of the desk in the common room, surrounded by half-empty coffee cups and scattered report pages. My eyes burn—not from smoke this time, but from staring at screens and fine print for too long.

“Buck’s handwriting is actually worse than I remembered,” I mutter to myself, trying to decipher a sentence that could either say “debris cleared” or “debrief cleared.” Honestly, I might just type “clear” and move on.

The shift’s quieted down since the fire. No more calls, no more drama. Just… admin. Even Ravi looked ready to fake an emergency by hour four.

One by one, the others trickled out as the clock crept toward the end of shift—Hen heading out to pick up Denny, Chim grumbling something about needing sleep and also tacos, Eddie with a wave and a “see you tomorrow.” Buck kissed my cheek on his way out, promising to grab groceries and “maybe not burn dinner this time.”

And now? Just me, this never-ending report, and the hum of the vending machine in the corner.

I don’t notice Bobby’s still here until he clears his throat gently behind me.

“You’re still working?” he asks, voice warm but worn. He’s got a coffee mug in one hand, sleeves rolled up, and that quiet sort of calm he carries like armor.

“Trying,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “My brain is officially jelly, but this report’s not going to file itself.”

He walks over and sets his mug down next to my elbow. "You did good today. With the kid. And everything else.”

“Thanks, Cap.”

There’s a pause between us, not uncomfortable, just… still. Peaceful in a way the firehouse rarely is.

Bobby leans against the table, arms crossed loosely. “You thinking about that conversation from this morning?”

I blink at him. “You mean the house? Or the part where everyone suddenly thought we were pregnant?”

He chuckles softly. “Both.”

I lean back in the chair, letting the wheels squeak as I tip my head toward the ceiling.

“Yeah,” I admit. “I’ve been thinking about it. Not that I’m in a rush or anything, but… I guess it’s starting to feel possible now, you know? A house, a future. Kids, eventually. That call today kind of… hit different.”

Bobby nods, quiet for a beat. “It always does. The ones with kids… they stay with you. Make you think about what matters.”

He doesn’t say more. He doesn’t have to.

“I think Buck’s a little freaked out,” I say after a minute. “Not in a bad way—just, you know… Buck. He’s got a good heart. He just doesn’t always know how to pace himself.”

Bobby smiles gently. “He’s got you. That helps.”

I return the smile, softer now. “Yeah. We’ve got each other.”

The last rays of sunlight stream through the windows, painting gold across the quiet kitchen. I glance back at the computer, the blinking cursor still waiting for me to finish.

“I should wrap this up,” I say, sitting forward again. “Or I’ll never leave.”

“You finish that,” Bobby says, picking up his mug. “I’ll clean up the kitchen. Deal?”

“Deal.”

As he walks away, I feel a strange kind of peace settle over me. Not the loud kind. Not the adrenaline-fueled, high-stakes, rushing-into-flames kind. The quiet kind. The home is waiting kind.

And maybe that’s enough—for now.

The keys clack under my fingers as I finish typing the last sentence of the incident report. I reread it three times, squinting through the dull ache behind my eyes, and then hit submit like it’s the most satisfying thing I’ve done all day.

Done. Finally.

I lean back in the chair and let out a long sigh, rolling my shoulders. The station is almost eerily quiet now—no voices, no movement, just the low hum of the overhead lights and the occasional creak of the building settling. It feels different when it’s this empty, like the place is catching its breath between shifts, too.

Across the room, Bobby finishes wiping down the counter and sets the rag aside. A moment later, he moves back toward the table with two steaming mugs in hand.

“I figured you earned this,” he says, setting one down beside me. “Fresh pot.”

I smile, grateful. “You’re a saint.”

He chuckles and lowers himself into the chair opposite me with that same unhurried, grounded presence he always carries. Not saying much. Not needing to. Just being here.

I wrap my hands around the mug, letting the warmth soak into my fingers. It’s quiet again. But not awkward. Just… calm. Comfortable.

We sit like that for a while. Not talking. Just sipping.

And then—somewhere in that silence, something shifts.

I glance up at him, and he’s just watching the steam curl up from his coffee, brows slightly drawn like he’s thinking about something far away. His sleeves are still rolled to his elbows, and his wedding ring is long gone. I know his story. Everyone does. But sitting here now, something about him feels… different.

Or maybe I feel different.

He catches me looking, and offers a small smile—just the faint curve of his mouth, nothing big, but it hits deeper than I expect.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” I answer, but it comes out a little breathless.

I drop my gaze, suddenly way too aware of how quiet it is. Of how close we are. Of how this doesn’t feel like just two coworkers burning the midnight oil anymore. It feels intimate—but not in a way that feels wrong. Not rushed. Not inappropriate. Just… real.

I try to focus on my coffee, but my mind won’t stop tracing the lines of his face. The quiet strength he carries. The way he listens. The way he sees people—not just the job they do, but who they are.

I think about Buck. About how safe he makes me feel. About how loud our love is—messy, passionate, chaotic in the way only Buck could be. And I love that. I do.

But this—this right now—isn’t loud. It’s steady. It’s stillness after the storm. It’s the kind of feeling that sneaks up on you when you’re not looking.

I realize I’ve been staring again, and I shake myself out of it. I don’t even know what I’d say if I tried to speak. What am I doing? Bobby is my captain. My friend. Someone I trust with my life.

But there’s a small, undeniable part of me wondering—what if that trust could be more?

He doesn’t say anything, just lets the silence stretch, safe and easy. His eyes are warm when they meet mine. Not questioning. Just… patient.

And for the first time, I don’t look away.

I don’t know how long we sit like that, just the two of us with cooling coffee and the low hum of the station around us. Long enough for the tension in my shoulders to ease. Long enough for the strange flutter in my chest to become something I can’t completely ignore.

Which is exactly why I need to say something. Anything.

I clear my throat, forcing my voice to sound casual. “You know, we haven’t seen Athena all shift.”

Bobby glances up from his coffee, mildly surprised. “No, I guess not.”

“She okay?” I ask. “She’s usually around—even if she’s just glaring at Buck for doing something mildly illegal.”

That earns a quiet laugh, the tension in his expression easing. “She’s good. Just pulling doubles this week. Got roped into covering for someone out on leave. She texted me earlier, said she wouldn’t be by.”

I nod, sipping my coffee and trying not to think about the relief that settles in my chest at that.

Not because I don’t like Athena. God, I love Athena. She’s fierce and brilliant and somehow even more intimidating than Bobby on his worst day. But I guess… right now, a small part of me is glad she didn’t walk in while I was looking at Bobby like I forgot what breathing was.

“That’s gotta be weird,” I say. “You two are usually like a package deal.”

He offers a half-smile, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Yeah. It is. But things change.”

He says it simply. Not with sadness exactly—just a quiet acceptance that speaks louder than anything else.

I wonder what that means. I wonder if it’s really about Athena… or something else.

I stir my coffee even though there’s nothing in it to stir. “You miss her when she’s not around?”

His gaze lifts to mine again, steady, thoughtful. “I miss the idea of her sometimes. More than the reality lately.”

The words hang in the air like a match struck in the dark.

I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t think he knows what to say to that. He doesn’t take it back. He just… lets it sit.

And I feel it—the space between us shifting again, but not in a dramatic way. Not fireworks. Not sudden declarations. Just… a pulse of something unspoken. Something waiting.

I nod slowly, letting his words settle. “I get that,” I say. “Sometimes the idea of someone is easier to hold on to than what it really feels like day to day.”

We’re not talking about Athena anymore. Or Buck. Or anyone, really. We’re just talking. Two people sitting in the almost-dark, trying to make sense of things we don’t want to admit are changing.

He doesn’t look away this time. And neither do I.

“Thanks for the coffee,” I say after a while, standing slowly and wrapping both hands around the warm ceramic like it’s some kind of shield.

“Anytime,” Bobby says. And he means it.

As I head toward the hallway to grab my stuff, I don’t have to look back to know he’s watching me go.

And I don’t know what that means yet.

But I’m starting to want to find out.

The second I walk through the door, the scent of takeout hits me—Thai, if my nose is right—and something else: clean laundry and the familiar, warm mess that is home with Buck.

He’s in the kitchen, standing barefoot in sweats and an old department t-shirt, shoveling noodles into his mouth straight from the carton like he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. When he sees me, his face lights up with that boyish, earnest smile that still gets me every time.

“There she is!” he says around a mouthful. “I was starting to think you’d fallen asleep at your desk.”

“Almost did,” I say, managing a small smile. “Paperwork marathon.”

He nods like he understands—which he does. Buck’s done his fair share of desk duty, even if he usually finds a way to avoid it with some kind of overly dramatic injury or suspiciously timed plumbing emergency.

“I got you pad see ew,” he says, holding up the second carton. “Extra broccoli, like you like it. And don’t say I never do anything romantic.”

“Thanks,” I say, and I mean it. I take the food and head for the couch, kicking off my boots and curling up into my usual corner. Buck flops down beside me, draping one arm along the back of the couch like he always does, comfortable and familiar and… safe.

I should feel safe. I do feel safe.

But there’s something different tonight. Not in the room. In me.

I can still feel the quiet weight of Bobby’s eyes. Still hear his voice when he said, “Things change.” Still feel the way the silence between us had shifted, like something had cracked open just a little.

And now I’m sitting beside the man I promised forever to, eating takeout and watching reruns of The Office, and I’m smiling when I should be… God, I don’t know. More present.

Buck leans over suddenly, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You okay?”

I glance at him. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He studies me for a second, like he can sense something’s off but doesn’t know how to name it. Buck’s always been good at reading my moods—just not always great at knowing what to do with them.

“You sure?” he asks, quieter this time.

I nod. “I promise. Just a long day.”

And that’s not a lie.

He lets it go, settling back and turning the volume up a little. I force myself to eat, to laugh when he quotes a line from the show, to pretend everything inside me isn’t twisted into a quiet knot.

Because I love him. I do.

But that moment back at the station won’t leave me alone.

And for the first time, I wonder what it means that I didn’t tell him about it.

…

The end-of-shift energy buzzes through the firehouse like a slow leak of pressure. Everyone’s winding down—gear cleaned, lockers shut, half-finished cups of coffee abandoned in favor of getting home.

I’d made it through the whole day pretending everything was normal. Smiled at Buck across the rig. Laughed at one of Chim’s dumb impressions. Even helped Ravi fix a stuck drawer in the supply closet.

But every time I caught Bobby’s eye—just a passing glance in the kitchen or a nod during call debriefs—it felt like something tightened in my chest.

He didn’t treat me any differently. Didn’t say a word about the coffee or the conversation or that split-second pause before I walked away last shift. But it was there. We were there. Still suspended in that space between everything and nothing.

I’m halfway through zipping my duffel when I hear his voice from across the bay.

“Y/N? You got a second?”

My stomach does something stupid and traitorous.

I turn, nodding before my voice even works. “Yeah. Sure.”

I follow him into his office, trying to keep my breathing even. It’s quiet in here—door half closed, blinds tilted just enough to blur the outside world. He sits behind the desk but doesn’t pull out any forms or check his computer. He just gestures to the chair across from him.

I sit. Try not to fidget. Try not to look too hard at the way his eyes linger on mine a little longer than necessary.

He exhales slowly, then says, “I wanted to check in. You’ve seemed… a little off.”

That’s Bobby—cutting right through the noise with gentle precision.

I shrug, a practiced move. “Just tired, I guess.”

“Is it Buck?” he asks, and it’s not a jealous question. It’s careful. Kind.

I shake my head. “No. He’s… he’s Buck. Nothing’s wrong.”

He nods once, like he believes me. Or maybe he doesn’t—but he won’t press. That’s never been his style.

He leans back in the chair, hands folded in his lap. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About changes. About what we let ourselves want, and when.”

His words hang there, quiet and honest.

“I think,” he continues, “sometimes we hold onto things just because we promised to. Not because they still fit.”

My throat tightens. “Are you talking about you and Athena?”

He’s silent for a long moment. Then: “I’m talking about a lot of things.”

The silence that follows is thick, full of everything we could say and everything we’re too afraid to.

I nod slowly, my fingers twisting in my lap. “I’ve been thinking too.”

His eyes flicker. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I look down at my hands, then back at him. “And I don’t know what it means yet. I just know something’s… shifted.”

It’s the closest I can come to admitting the truth out loud.

He studies me for a long moment, then gives a small, almost sad smile. “That’s okay. Shift happens slowly. One degree at a time.”

I return the smile, even though it aches a little. “You’d know.”

The air between us shifts again. Just a breath—barely a beat.

But something changes.

He steps out from behind the desk. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just closes the space in a way that feels intentional. Measured. Like he’s spent the whole day thinking about whether this was the moment, and finally decided he can’t let it pass.

My breath catches as he stops in front of me. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of him, smell the coffee still lingering on his clothes.

His voice is low. Steady. “Tell me to stop.”

I should.

God, I should.

But I don’t.

I don’t say a word.

So he kisses me.

Soft. Brief. Nothing wild or possessive—just the kind of kiss that says everything he hasn’t. Everything we haven’t.

When he pulls back, his eyes stay on mine like he’s afraid to move, afraid to breathe too loud and shatter what just happened.

I take a step back. Not because I regret it—but because I can’t stay. Not right now.

“I should go,” I whisper.

He nods once, but he doesn’t apologize. And neither do I.

I walk out of his office, out of the station, into the fading daylight with my heart pounding and my thoughts a tangled mess.

I kissed my boss.

I kissed Bobby.

And I wanted to.

But I’m going home to Buck.

And I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with that.

#bobby nash x reader #bobby nash #bobby nash x athena grant #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #911 abc #911 x reader #please forgive me for this betrayal of Bathena

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jinxfixeseverything · 11 days ago

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16/26 The Date: Part 1 (Chapter 16)

Notes and disclaimers: Story is JINX/FEMALE READER. Most chapters contain SMUT and or FLUFF, there is LIGHT ANGST in a few.

Important notes: Reader refers to Jinx often as Pj, for a term of endearment and rare but occasional reference to Jinx as Powder, by the people closest to her, as this is set after her redemption arc she does not mind it used in context!! But still prefers and continues to go by Jinx. She is mainly referred to as Jinx in the story and by the characters in it, don’t worry! Jinx is canonically bisexual in this story. I do not own any of these characters, I just play with them.

Warning: Story will contain VERY graphic depictions of WLW, main coupling will consist of two switches to keep everyone happy. I’ll shut up now and I really hope you enjoy!

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

You left the Kiramman’s early not wanting to bump into Cait and Vi. Knowing it was likely her sister banging on the wall. Jinx told you Vi was always like a bear with a sore head if she was woken up, but she’d get over it.

“It was worth it.” Jinx told you pecking your lips.

You walked with Jinx to the fancy market region in Piltover, holding hands and stopping to look on the stalls, it felt so nice to just spend time together, like a couple. You hadn’t done it in so long, you don’t actually know if you guys had even been on a real date. When you were first hooking up you’d mainly meet at the bar, then started hang out at the arcade, take out meals were soon eaten there, most talks, most make out sessions. Those early days spent getting to know each other were all spend at Jinx’s place. Swapping stories of how you grew up and the things that shaped you both into the adults you became. You tried to think of a time you guys had ever done something like this together and you couldn’t remember. Closest to date nights you had were doubled with Cait and Vi.

Walking around with Jinx in the day, sun shining, seeing her smiling and joking made your heart feel light. She looked like she needed this day. So you were going to make it amazing for her. You only had a few more days ‘til you were gone for two weeks work in Bilgewater.

“Ooh, look at those!” Jinx said, pulling you by the hand from the market to a café shop window. Pancake looking delicacies, covered in tall cream and cherries, filled each shelf. She pressed her face against the window.

“You want some?” You ask her. “We haven’t had breakfast yet, and it’s almost time for lunch.”

Her eyes widened with excitement as she grinned. Dragging you inside to purchase them.

You take the tray of pancakes outside, it was such a beautiful day in Piltover, you sit close together eating on a small round table. Jinx sipping from the straw of a tall, cold drink.

“Wanna try this one?” You say to her offering her a small macron type snack.

She holds your wrist and bites the sweet little treat. Leaving practically a quarter. “So fuckin’ good.” She says, her words muffled by the chewing and small crumbs falling from her mouth. You laugh at her, bemused.

“You wanna try this?” She asks waving a fork full of pancake and cream, like she wants to feed it to you.

“Sure.” you say, leaning towards her, she purposefully misses your open mouth, smearing the cream on the corner of your lips.

“Messy eater.” She teased learning forward.

“I knew I couldn’t trust you.” You say chuckling, bringing your hand up to wipe it.

“Yes you can.” Jinx said, pushing your hand away and lacing her fingers with yours. “You can trust me to do it.” She said licking at the corner of your mouth, you chuckle and shake your head, she places her other hand on your chin to keep you still and licks the corner of you mouth again, removing the last spot of cream.

Smirking at your smile she places a small kiss on your lips, then another, then one last peck. Both of you stay leaning forward to each other, grinning.

An elderly couple walk by arm in arm, catching your eye, both women look at you, as if they were reminded of themselves in their younger days, at the start of their relationship.

Jinx follows your eye to see them smiling at you both and she looks away shyly, leaning back. Seeing Jinx shy was rare.

“So what else you got planned for me today, Ace?” She asks.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” You tell her grinning.

Jinx ate her pancakes like she hadn’t eaten in days. You slyly watch her, trying not to laugh. Both cheeks bulbous, packed with pancake. Jinx and Vi both had a habit of ravishing their food, much to yours and Caitlyn’s amusement. It was good to see her enjoying herself. After you ate you took her hand again and walked through mid town. Jinx had a skip in her step, swinging your held hands, occasionally looking at you with a goofy grin and looking away again. Seeing her happy made you happy. The Piltover sun making her pale skin even more apparent.

It was late afternoon by the time you got to the south side harbour.

“We going fishing, Pixie Stix?” Jinx asks as you lead her by the hand to a dock.

“Yes, I thought you’d find fishing romantic.” You say rolling your eyes.

At the end of the dock was an old man with wizened, greenish skin, balding with white tufts of hair at the side, smoking a pipe.

“Yo, Sonny!” You greet him, he nods. “Brought my girl for some sight seeing, before I’m off for Bilgewater.” You dig into your pocket, passing him a small handful of bronze washers.

Sonny nods again, not even counting, pushing them into his pocket and carries on smoking his pipe.

“Wow, you gotta take a breath there, Sonny. I can barely keep up!” Jinx jokes with him. He completely ignores her. You pull her away to a ladder on the dock, trying not to laugh. It leads down to a small boat for two, the engine looked like it was about to fall off.

You make it down to the boat and hold a hand out to help Jinx. She apprehensively climbs down the ladder looking back at you.

“Are you sure this old dog’s sea worthy?” Jinx questions reaching for your hand to help her down.

“Oh sure! Sonny’s assured me it’s all working above board.” You says sitting by the engine.

“That’s comforting.” Jinx replies, her tone one of scepticism. “Couldn’t get the old guy to shut up.” She continued.

“Shh.” You tell her, trying to keep the smile from your face. “You wanna steer?” You ask her, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes light up and she gently shoves you out of the way to take position by the engine. “Aye, aye! Cap’n!” She says with her usual mischievous excitement. She cranks the starter cord, a couple of times, getting the engine running.

“Ok, keep south…” is all you managed to say before Jinx sped off, hardly giving you any time to hold on.

“Whhoooo hooooo!!!” She screamed. Boosting the tiny boat so fast you could feel it bobbing in and out of the water. A look of pure maniacal happiness on her face.

“Fuuuuuck!!” You cry as sea foam covers you both.

Nearing a built up island off the south harbour you yell at Jinx to slow down. It’s mainly filled with small houses and warehouses but the southern area has a smaller sandy stretch. You tell Jinx to head there.

“Whoooo!” Jinx exclaims, exhaling. “Now that was fun.” She said. Cutting the engine, letting a tide beach the boat onto the shore.

You let go of your grip on the boat, knuckles completely white.

“I think I’ll drive on the way back.” You tell her. Your stomach still flipping from the bobbing motion.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Jinx asks you, hopping out of the boat onto the sand. She holds her hands out to help you step out of the boat.

“It went into the sump when I got all wrangled up with an adrenaline junkie.” You say, taking her hands and stepping out. You bring her closer to you, guiding her arms around your waist and kiss her. She chuckles into the kiss. Her lips were still sweet from the pancakes earlier.

As you cup her face, she deepens the kiss. A familiar stab of arousal hit below your stomach as she did so. You hum into the kiss, reaching down with one hand to the side of her shirt, and stroke the side of her breast, always easily accessible when she wore this. You kinda loved that.

“You didn’t have to bring me all the way out here if this is what you had in mind.” She said smiling against your lips and using her tongue to kiss you. Her hands travel down to your pants as she attempts to unbutton them before you catch yourself.

“A little public don’t you think?” You say softly into the kiss, placing your hands on top of her to stop her.

You break the kiss and both look around. There were little people shaped movements up at the busy warehouses and further down the beach a few other couples could be seen in the distance, sitting on the sand.

“So, Captain McHandsie, what we doing out here?” Jinx asked you with her hand on her hip.

“I thought we could, take our boots off and walk along the shore a little. Just to kill some time, I’ve got plans for later.” You say, pulling your nap sack out of the boat and securing a tether to Sonny’s boat and the shore.

Jinx stands close behind you putting her hands on your hips as you fasten the rope.

“I might have a few plans of my own for you later too?” She says, suggestively, pulling your butt towards her hips.

You laugh and let her as you finish up with the knot.

You bring a towel out of the nap sack and lay it on the sand. Jinx pulls off her gloves, pulling one back and snapping it against your butt with a flick of her wrist. Laughing you sit on the towel and begin to pull off your boots and socks, rolling your pant legs.

Jinx plops down beside you and unlaces her boots, wiggling her toes once they are free of the chunky footwear. Her toe nails were painted blue and pink in succession, with both little toes yellow. You didn’t ask, but you suspected why.

“Wanna piggyback?” You ask her with a lopsided smile, standing up.

“Like last nights or a real one?” Jinx replies, her voice low and sexy.

“Be good and you’ll get both.” You promise, stroking her chin once she stands. Jinx jumps onto your back, she feels lighter than some backpacks you’ve lugged around on your travels.

“Full speed ahead!” Jinx yells from your back, pointing to the water and you run down to the surf, plowing through it up to your knees.

Jinx is giggling as you run, splashing around and kicking up the water, spinning in circles, making engine sounds and harsh break noises. She screams as the water comes up getting her pants wet. After a while of playing like this, Jinx hugging close onto your back as you carried her, you head back towards the towel you laid out. Putting her down after she complained you got her butt wet, then threatening to dump her in the water if she doesn’t quit complaining.

“You wouldn’t dare.” She challenges you. You begin chasing her.

“Don’t, don’t!” She cries out, laughing, holding both her hands out in front to guard herself. You pick her up effortlessly, carrying her under your arm a short distance, tickling her stomach while she laughed hysterically. You pretend to drop her further into the water, as she wriggles around in protest, pleading with you not to, absolutely knowing that you wouldn’t. You carry your giggling girlfriend back to the towel, unceremoniously dropping her.

“Lung Blight.” She insults you. Jinx leans back on the towel, stretching out her legs.

“Snipe.” You call her, sitting next to her, leaning over to kiss her. She raises a hand to your face.

“Your Trencher insults are coming along.” Jinx tells you as you pull back from the kiss, settling to lay next to her.

“You’ve taught me well.” You tell her smiling.

“Where we going after this?” Jinx asks, laying flat.

“Back to your place.” You tell her.

“Hoh, hoh, heck yes!” She grins rubbing her hands together.

“To get changed, we’re going out again.” You correct her.

“But why go out again when we can have just as much fun inside?” She says grinning suggestively, bumping her leg to yours. You roll your eyes smiling and shaking your head. She leans across you to kiss you. “Bet I can get you to change your mind.” She says, her hand trailing up inside your shirt.

“Not this time.” You tell her, kissing her back. Jinx loved making you crack when you were trying to be serious or sensible. She got a real kick out of it. Watching your will power slowly ebb away as she pushed a little further. It was a fun challenge for her.

“We’ll see, Chuckles. We’ll see.” She countered confidently, pushing her tongue into your mouth, trying to dominate the kiss but losing as you bring your hand up to her cheek, pulling her further into a passionate kiss. Tongues battling. After a few minutes she pulls away, her chest rising and falling.

“Too easy.” You tell her, laying back with your hands behind your head. Smugly enjoying how hot and bothered you could get her.

Jinx jokingly narrowed her eyes at you. Her jaw tensing. She was a sore loser. But paybacks were a bitch. She looked around.

“Come ‘ere.” She said suddenly pulling you to get up.

“Where ya going?” You ask her confused.

“Get up.” She tells you pulling the towel from below you. Getting in the boat she hands you the towel. “Hold this up.” She tells you. You comply with her wishes as she starts pulling off her shirt.

You look around to make sure no one else can see. “What are you doing?” You ask her.

“We’re going for a dip.” She says matter of factly her raspy voice.

“I didn’t pack any suits.” You tell her, still holding the towel up to cover her while she pulls off her pants and underwear. You look around one last time.

“You think they’re wearing suits.” Jinx’s asks, motioning with her head to another couple further out in the water, locked in an embrace.

“I don’t know I can’t see this far away.” You reply.

“Exactly, Sweet Cakes.” Jinx says, jumping out of the boat and running into the water. “Your turn!” She calls after you, when she’s shoulder deep in the crystal blue waters.

You look around and drape the towel over your shoulders, undressing. When you are fully naked you walk with the towel covering you down to the shore line.

#jinx x y/n #jinx x fem!reader #jinx x you #jinx x female reader #girlfriend jinx #soft jinx #jinx x reader

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daysofyellowroses · 1 year ago

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cherry

carmen berzatto x reader | 2.2k | 18+ minors dni | tw: smut, more smut & tooth-rotting cuteness

prompt was: Carmy doing something mad cheesy and cute for his girl on v-day like he tells her that he has to work on valentines just to surprise her with a super romantic evening like you get home and there’s nice music playing there’s heart confetti in the entry way leading to the dining room and a huge bouquet of roses and a cute teddy bear is on the table and he’s in the kitchen finishing up something looking straight out of a Michelin star menu and he’s like “ oh I bought you new comfy clothes and I got your favorite movie ready for us “ and there’s candles and champagne and you’re just over the moon happy bc he would just do it for his girl bc he wants her to be happy and feel loved and not just bc he wants his dick wet (even though I mean after all the effort he’s ofc getting a big reward) but I could see him totally not even caring about the sexual part and just wanting to worship his girl that day and appreciate how much love they share - as requested by the very lovely and extremely talented @thecapricunt1616 if you don't go check out their work then..you are missing out, go read the bear & his honey it is phenomenal 🌼

this is a valentine's themed story, and i may not be posting it on actual valentine's day but i am posting it on galentine's day which is, frankly, the superior day anyway 🌼

🐻

As much as you didn't really care about Valentine's Day, part of you was still a little disappointed when Carmy told you that he'd put himself down to work a late shift, having forgotten what day it would be. Nobody could swap with him and you accepted that it would just be a regular day.

It wasn't like you and Carm never had dates or didn't do romantic things for each other but..it would have been nice to spend the evening together, even just relaxing on the couch.

From the moment you woke up on the 14th, there was seemingly no escape from the fact that it was Valentine's Day. Every song on the radio was a love song, social media was already flooded with endless posts of love heart pancakes, it was a little much.

Then there was work. At first it was a little cute, the management had arranged for everyone to get a little rose, and there were a couple of boxes of fancy chocolates in the break room. But then there was a seemingly unending stream of couriers dropping off huge bouquets of flowers, giant teddies, endless cards. You were sure some of them had been sent by the recipients anyway, rolling your eyes as yet another excited shriek sounded.

It wasn't that you were jealous, it would actually be pretty mortifying to have to stand there while some random guy belted out a song or recited a horribly cheesy poem at you. It was more of a reminder that you were just having a normal day, you wouldn't get to go home and spend the evening with your boyfriend, feel immense love and happiness.

At the end of the day, you could barely breathe in the elevator, cramped in at the back, surrounded by teddies and flowers, the scent overwhelming. You looked up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath and trying to tune out the chatter happening around you.

‘We actually got reservations at Ever’

‘We're spending the night at the Peninsula’

‘I definitely think he's gonna propose, I found a Tiffany brochure in the nightstand’

When you got to your car, you took a moment to enjoy the silence once you sat in before hooking your phone up to the speaker and blasting your least romantic playlist.

You stopped off at the nearest supermarket on the way home, picking up a bottle of wine, a frozen pizza and some already half-off heart shaped candies by the cash register. There were at least three men ahead of you in the line, all frantically checking their watches as they clutched slightly wilted bouquets and expensive cards.

By the time you got home all you wanted to do was sink into the bath with your bottle of wine, and forget about the day. You took your phone out as you left the car, sending a quick message to Carmy as you made your way into the building.

‘Hey babe, hope work is going okay. Love you ❤️’

You tucked your phone into your pocket before reaching into your bag for your keys, jostling the grocery bag in your other arm.

As soon as you opened the door you could sense something was happening, raising a brow as you heard music playing. The lights were on, dimmed low. You closed the door, looking down at the ground and turning slowly.

There were rose petals strewn across the floor in the shape of a heart, with more loose petals leading down to the living room. You smiled to yourself, biting your lip as you shook your head. Either you had a boyfriend who'd told you a white lie or a very romantic burglar had broken in.

You set the grocery bag down in the hall, taking off your coat and hanging it up before walking into the living room. You couldn't help but laugh with joy, placing your hand over your mouth as you found the biggest bouquet of roses you'd ever seen sitting on the middle of the coffee table.

Sitting on the couch was a stupidly large teddy bear, wearing Carm's beef t-shirt that was more often worn by you anyway. You walked over to the couch, smiling as you touched the teddy's soft head. You looked over your shoulder as you heard a familiar voice, finding your boyfriend leaning against the doorway, his sleeves rolled up and a dish towel over his shoulder.

“Hey,” You grinned. “could've sworn you said you had to work tonight.”

“Well..about that,” Carm grinned, holding out his hand. “there's a chance I was lying.”

“Just a slim chance, is it?” You raised a brow with a smile, stepping closer and taking Carm's hand before he gently dragged you into the kitchen.

“So slim,” Carmy nodded, pulling you in for a kiss before you pulled back and took in the sight of the kitchen. The lights were dimmed low, candles dotted about on the counter and the table, a bottle of wine you knew was super expensive and two glasses waiting.

“Hope you don't mind.”

“I suppose I can forgive you,” You murmured softly, unable to stop smiling as you looked back at your boyfriend. “just this once. This is all..incredible, I can't believe you've done this.”

“I can be romantic when I want to be.” Carm winked at you, walking to the oven and slowly opening it.

You took a deep breath as you took everything in, your hand over your heart.

You wanted to tell Carm that he was always romantic, even when he didn't think he was. Like when he would bring home a dessert for you, when he would let you steal his clothes, dance with you in the kitchen after a long day, spend whole days wrapped around you when you just needed him to be there and couldn't go anywhere.

You wanted to tell him he didn't need to do so much, but..you loved that he did. Yes, it was a slightly ridiculous made up day that had driven you crazy but when it was Carm making such an effort to treat you..it felt important and real.

“Oh, before I forget,”

You snapped out of your thoughts as you heard Carm's voice, looking over to him.

“I know you said you didn't need it but..I got you that hoodie you wanted,” He smiled. “with the..letters and all that. It's in the bedroom.”

“I don't know what to say,” You smiled, tears starting to well in your eyes. “I..”

“Then don't say anything,” Carm shrugged with a grin. “Just enjoy.”

“That I can do.” You nodded, stepping closer to give him a kiss before heading to the bedroom, your heart achingly full.

Sitting on the floor by your bed was a pink gift bag, red tissue paper with white hearts placed on the top of it. You pictured Carm carefully arranging the paper, wanting it to be perfect.

You went to the bag, carefully moving the tissue paper and reaching inside it to pull out a ridiculously soft hoodie, tears starting to spill from your eyes. You had mentioned, weeks back, when you were laying on the couch with Carm one evening that you had seen a hoodie you liked, lifting your phone to show him. He'd asked if you were going to buy it and you said you'd think about, but it was a little too expensive.

And suddenly there it was, in your hands. You carefully laid it on the bed before going for a shower, laughing to yourself when you thought about how lucky you were, barely able to believe it. After your shower you put on your new hoodie, letting out a relaxed sigh at how soft it felt.

Once you were ready you went to the kitchen, just in time for Carm to hand you a plate and a glass of wine.

“It's just pasta,” He smiled, kissing your cheek. “Come on, I got the movie ready to go.”

You looked down to your plate, raising a brow. In theory it was just pasta, in reality it was a work of art.

“This is too beautiful to eat,” You grinned, looking over to Carm as he got his own plate. “But I'm willing to ignore that.”

As you walked into the living room, you laughed softly as you saw what was waiting on the screen, looking over to Carm.

“We don't have to watch it again.”

“I know, but we will,” He grinned. “It's your favorite.”

“You're my favorite, you softy.” You smiled, sitting down on the couch beside the teddy and resting your plate on your lap. Carm went to sit beside you, picking up the teddy and carefully setting it aside.

“Sorry buddy, she's all mine.”

After the most perfect dinner, you laid down on the couch, your head in Carm's lap as he trailed his fingers along your arm.

“I love you,” You murmured softly, turning to look up at your boyfriend. “kinda feels like I should tell you, getting that vibe today.”

“That's so funny, I got the same vibe,” Carm grinned, moving his hand to touch your cheek gently. “I love you too. So much.”

You sat up, gently touching Carm's cheek as you leaned in for a kiss, your heart swelling as you felt him smile against your lips.

After a while you found yourself sitting in Carm's lap, your hands gently moving through his hair, his hands under your hoodie and gently stroking your waist.

It was slow and intimate and perfect, but you could feel a growing need for more.

As if he could sense your rising desire, Carm pulled back and smiled as he touched your cheek, his eyes focused on you.

“We don't..we don't have to do anything, if you're not in the mood,” He murmured softly. “I'm having the time of my life just being in the same room as you.”

You could have cried. Cried because you knew he truly meant it. He never did anything for you because he expected something in return, never made you feel like you owed him something. Even on a day that basically forced couples into bed, you knew he wouldn't be upset or push you if you said no.

“Look at you,” You murmured with a grin, touching Carm's cheek. “you are so perfect it makes me worry that you're actually a psychopath. Luckily you're a chef so I don't have to worry too much about that.”

He laughed and kissed you deeply, your arms winding around his neck.

“I'm serious,” He smiled as he rested his forehead against yours. “just because it's a certain day it doesn't mean we need to do anything.”

“I know,” You grinned, pulling back and moving your hand to gently stroke Carm's hair. “but I would want to be with you no matter what day. And I haven't given you your gift yet.”

“Oh yeah?” Carm raised a brow, unable to hide the grin on his face. “What is it?”

“A surprise of course,” You teased, getting up from the couch, holding your hand out. “come with me and find out.”

He does.

You take him to the bedroom, after a couple of stops for one of you to pull the other in for a kiss.

You tell him to get on the bed, you stand at the end of it.

Despite the slight nerves, you relax when he smiles at you. Your leggings are slowly peeled off, your hoodie pulled away to leave you in a lingerie set that, judging by the way Carm's jaw fell open, was absolutely worth the money.

You give him a full view, turning around in a slow circle before crawling onto the bed and into his lap.

It's quite impressive how speechless he is, taking a moment before he surges forward and kisses you deeply.

His hands are everywhere, fingers digging into you in the most wonderful way. It doesn't take long for marks to bloom on your neck and chest, for you go be laid out on your back, panties tugged aside. He stops you when you go to peel them off, tells you how pretty they make you look .

He takes his time, tongue working you over slowly. You beg for more, he gives you more. His fingers stretch you so perfectly it's almost enough but not quite.

You see stars, breath catching in your throat as you cry out. He moves on top of you, you pull him in to taste yourself.

He's pushed onto his back, you graze your nails over his jeans, tell him to take it all off, slowly. He obliges, a deeper hunger growing in you as he reveals himself to you. Every time feels like the first time, fills you with desire.

Your hand grips his wrist as he goes to take off his shorts, you tell him you got it. His hand moves into your hair as you taste him, endless praise spills from his lips.

Your hands grip the sheets, your back arched as you moan louder than you ever thought possible. His hand moves along your back, his touch firm but full of love.

You lay side by side, hands reaching out to touch each other as your heads turn and eyes meet.

There are no words, but you both know what they are.

After a while you slip your hoodie back on, give Carm a wink as you leave the room.

As you sit between Carm's legs, his arms wrapped firmly around you as you look back and feed him a half-off chocolate, you think maybe this Valentine's Day thing isn't so bad after all.

#the bear #the bear 🐻#the bear fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #valentine's day

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dollarstoreartsupplies · 9 months ago

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things that remind me of the nerdy prudes

(because like two people reblogged this one i did forever ago for the losers and i forgot how fun these are)

grace:

getting veggie tales songs stuck in your head as an adult, knee socks, eating all your broccoli, sparkly butterfly clips, watching sunlight glint off a lake through the treeline, guinea pigs, friendship bracelets off a water bottle, being secretly glad when someone you don’t like turns out to be a bad person, a bunch of cellophane candy wrappers crinkling at the bottom of your purse, being a little too into archery at summer camp, pastel bible highlighters, banana pancakes, tying way too many ribbons around the advent wreath, leggings under dresses, daydreaming about how you’d escape if you ever got kidnapped, strawberry ice cream, roller skating with almost too much protective gear on, cloud gazing, obvious family secrets that everyone refuses to tell you, feeling weirdly guilty for ordering your steak rare, bringing too many swaps to girl scout camp so you can trade with everyone, asking a new friend for their email address, long denim skirts

steph:

really dry liquid lipstick you bought in your freshman year of high school but refuse to throw out, 24 hour diners, typing in all lowercase but never actually changing the setting in your phone, listening to music you hate but gaslighting yourself until you enjoy it, really dark purple nail polish that looks black, collecting crystals even though you don’t really believe in them, saying your team bella (but secretly being team jacob), getting mad your vape was confiscated at your high school graduation, one million rings, coffee ice cream, tinfoil in a microwave, exclusively wearing sports bras, shoplifting, pink monster, thinking cigarettes are really hot, never wearing a jacket even if your cold, penny boarding, drinking four loko, regretting four loko, refusing to put your hair up even when you really should, kuromi, half fallen down led lights, playing your mom’s old guitar, sour skittles

pete:

planetariums, being overly competitive at board games, ginger ale, using a chapstick until it runs out, really liking marshmallows, really liking hot chocolate, hating marshmallows in your hot chocolate, buying a bunch of cool notebooks and never using them, forever dm, pretending you didn’t find asdf movies as funny as you actually did, m&ms, freezing cold hands, hand-me-down sweaters, only ordering chicken fingers and french fries, being intrinsically trusted by cats, carrying a clarinet to school every day, skipping episodes of next gen if they don’t feature data, praying on the first day of school that your teachers didn’t have your older sibling, transition glasses lenses (that you absolutely regret), dry krave cereal, secretly finding most museums really boring, grow-your-own-geode science kits, wing tip tap shoes, messenger bags, only doing extracurriculars that look good on college applications

ruth:

your comfort gay newsies fanfiction from middle school, being jealous of your younger sibling, those phone cases with glitter and charms floating in water, team edward and team jacob, wishing you hadn’t quit dance, buying fun jewelry and never wearing it, being devastated your hair is too dark to dip dye in kool aid, sticky lip gloss, painting every nail a different color, self sabotage, crushed velvet scrunchies, the grease soundtrack, wanting to be a rockette when you grew up, never learning how to do make up, begging to do figure skating as a kid, begging to do beauty pageants as a kid, begging to do cheerleading as a kid, turquoise braces bands, sinclair gas stations, showing up to an audition that you didn’t realize had a dance call, dunkin’ donuts munchkins, squirrel girl comic books, one half of a best friend necklace you wore longer than you should have

richie:

trying to get the marble out of a ramune bottle, wearing big headphones 24/7 (even if they aren’t playing anything), staining your best friend’s bathtub blue with hair dye, sour patch kids, enamel pins, discord calls across like three different time zones, the charlie bone book series, getting in trouble for drawing in class, being the friend with a car but also being a terrible driver, a pokémon card binder, that one kid who was really, really good at cup stacking, wearing shorts in the middle of winter, thirty-nine minute long voice memos, being exceptional at claw machines, vocaloid songs, your pet parakeet hanging out on top of your head, that one vaguely traumatizing round of the pocky game from seventh grade, regularly broken duolingo streaks, getting in trouble for bringing a real katana to your freshman year halloween dance

#npmd #starkid #nerdy prudes must die #grace chasity #Stephanie lauter #peter spankoffski #ruth fleming #richie lipschitz #this is pretty much just for me because these are such unreadable blocks of text #but I think they’re FUN #and also I’m really trying to remember how to write these guys #hatchetfield

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ninakoll · 4 months ago

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@mayobleachigosns5eva firstly, THANK YOUU!! secondly, SOOO GLAD YOU ASKED AAAAAA since meat is expensive as hell i'll list the first 3 non-meat dishes that came to mind!!!

tahdig is rice cooked as one big crispy dish that has the mooost beautiful crust if cooked right. love it with a salad made of just cucumbers and tomatoes, + lime juice, salt and peppermint to taste. here is the recipe i learned it from first...! i once made a vegan version by swapping the greek yogurt out for alpro greek style, worked great.

miso-braised cabbage is something i discovered very recently but became instantly enamored with, i'm a cabbage head thru and thru. this recipe is pretty good altho i skip the sesame seeds!! it also comes out so beautiful it almost makes me mad i cant be a cabbage sizzling in a seasoned pan.

my grandma's rhubarb pie was written down on a random scrap of paper but is a great one. difficulty is 1/5 because it uses a lot of butter that you first put in the freezer to make it hard and then use a cheese slicer to coat the top of the unbaked pie with beautiful slices of butter that sear the top crust to crispy perfection. if you are interested i'll find the exact recipe..!!

overall i put a lot of love into taking care of my pan, it was a gift and i season it constantly.. i have a specific handkerchief to wipe it with and sometimes i just look at how shiny it is..... and pancakes turn out rly great in it too. in this house we hate teflon pans 👎👎👎

#food #😊😊😊😊🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤...

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ficretus · 4 months ago

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Vacuomon

*Vacuo during Salem's invasion*

Qrow: Salem could attack from any direction.

Ren: Why are we here instead of frontline?

Jaune: We are backup in case they somehow find a way to bypass our frontline. It happened in Atlas, it might happen again.

Nora: So we'll fight Cinder?

Jaune: It's possible. She'll be the one to go after Summer Maiden and Vault.

Gillian: Your guess is wrong.

Jax: But what can one expect from bunch of mongrels.

Qrow: So Salem sent local theater group after us. How pitiful.

Jax: Watch your mouth. You are in presence of royalty.

*someone jumps down*

Tyrian: Theater group. He he. I do have flair for drama, but even better flair for carnage. HA HA HA.

Qrow: You again. Your luck has run out Tyrian. *unsheathes Harbinger*

Tyrian: But I can always count on you to help me out a bit. Just like in Atlas.

Qrow: You bastard.

Gillian: Talk is cheap, time to settle this with combat.

You are challenged by Team Crown Leader Gillian *8 bit music blares*

Jaune: Huh?

Team Crown Leader Gillian sent out Jax.

Jaune: What am I suppose to do?

Ren: I think you need to send out someone to fight him.

Nora: We believe in you Fearless Leader.

Jaune: Ok... Ren I choose you.

Gillian: You picked unfavorable matchup, how odd. Jax, use Confuse Ray!

Ren is confused.

Ren: What's going on... I feel dizzy.

Jaune: Ren, use Leaf Blade!

Ren: Ouch.

Ren hurt himself in confusion.

Gillian: Fu fu fu. Time to lock you down. Jax, use Thunder Wave!

Ren: Ouch.

Jaune: Ren, Leaf Blade again!

Ren is paralyzed, he can't move.

Gillian: Jax, use Knock Off!

Jax: Idiot like you doesn't deserve such fine weapons. *knocks away Stormflower*

Ren snapped out of confusion

Ren: What did you say?

Jaune: You got him! Ren use Zen Headbutt!

Jax is immune to Psychic type attacks

Jaune: What?

Gillian: Amateur. Jax finish him off with another Knock Off!

Ren's Aura was broken. He is unable to continue the fight.

Qrow: Damn kid, that was a major blunder. Send me in next!

Tyrian: Oh I can hardly wait to fight you Branwen.

Jaune: Wait, what are types suppose to be?

Nora: Oh that's so easy. Basically Fire beats Grass. Grass beats Water. Water beats Fire. Fire beats Ice. Ice beats Flying. Flying beats Bug. Bug beats Psychic. Psychic beats Poison. Poison beats Fairy. Fairy beats Dark...

*five minutes later*

Nora: Fairy is immune to Dragon. Dragon beats Dragon. I beat pancakes. I am immune to Ren's healthy diet nonsense. Got all that?

Qrow: I need to start drinking again.

Jaune: So that guy is Dark type?

Nora: I mean duh. Dark/Psychic. Qrow is Dark/Flying. I'm Electric/Fairy. That girl over there is Psychic/Ground and Tyrian is Dark/Poison.

Qrow: I'm too sober for this.

Jaune: Alright, I understand it now. Qrow, I choose you!

Qrow: Finally...

Gillian: Jax, use Thunder Wave! Cripple that bird.

Jaune: Oh I don't think so! Qrow, use U-Turn!

*Qrow backflip kicks Jax before jumping behind Jaune*

Jax: You mongrels! It doesn't matter, you are still going to be paralyzed by my attack.

Nora: Nu-uh. Because I got swapped in.

Nora's Motor Drive was activated

Nora: Yummy electricity you chump.

Jaune: Nora, finish him off with Wild Charge!

Jax: Wait, wait, wait...

Nora: I heard you were talking shit about Ren. Come on pretty boy, time to light you up!

*Jax electrocuted by Nora*

Jax' Aura was broken. He is unable to continue the fight.

Gillian: I did not expect that. No matter. Carmine, I choose you!

Carmine: Oh I'm too stylish to be kept back.

Gillian: Carmine, use Sand Tomb!

Jaune: Nora, switch out. Qrow I choose you!

Qrow is immune to Ground type attacks.

Gillian: Tsk. Carmine use Sacred Sword!

Jaune: Qrow, retaliate with Night Slash!

*Carmine and Qrow clash with blades*

Carmine: I was itching to fight someone of your status Qrow Branwen.

Gillian: Carmine, use...

Jaune: Qrow, Sucker Punch!

*Qrow punches Carmine in the face*

Carmine: Huh?

Jaune: Finish her off with U-Turn!

*Qrow backflip kicks Carmine in the face before swapping with Nora*

Carmine's Aura was broken. She is unable to continue the fight.

Gillian: That was dirty!

Tyrian: Luckily I don't care about that. Come on, who am I ripping apart?

Jaune: This is not good I...

Nora: Don't worry Fearless Leader, I got this!

Jaune: Nora, use Play Rough!

Gillian: Tyrian, Cross Poison!

Nora was Poisoned.

Nora: Ghhhh.

Tyrian: Come on girlie, fun has just started.

Jaune: Nora, use...

Gillian: Tyrian, Sucker Punch!

*Tyrian smacks Nora*

Gillian: Two can play that game. Tyrian finish her off with another Cross Poison.

Jaune: Nora, Wild Charge!

*Nora and Tyrian clash. Tyrian wins*

Nora is unable to continue the fight.

Tyrian: Ohhhh that's no good Branwen. Your allies really like to lose against me.

Qrow: Time to finish this off once and for all Tyrian!

Tyrian: Finish off? He he, that's my favorite word.

Gillian: Tyrian, Cross Poison!

Jaune: Qrow, Brave Bird!

*Qrow and Tyrian clash*

Jaune: They are evenly matched.

Gillian: Not for long. *activates her Semblance* Tyrian, AURAMAX

Jaune: What?

Tyrian: Time to rip off your little bird wings!

Qrow: What are you doing kid? Boost me up!

Jaune: Qrow... *activates his Semblance* Auramax.

*Qrow gets boosted*

Qrow: Now we are even.

Gillian: Tyrian, MAX Ooze!

Jaune: Qrow, MAX Airstream!

*Tyrian and Qrow clash*

Gillian/Jaune: AGAIN!

*Tyrian and Qrow clash*

Gillian/Jaune: MAX Knuckle!

*Still evenly matched*

Tyrian: He he. Come on Branwen, die already!

Qrow: You first!

Jaune: Hit and run. Qrow, U-Turn!

Gillian: Not this time. Tyrian, Baneful Bunker!

*Tyrian blocks Qrow's strike*

Tyrian: I believe I left you parting gift.

Qrow was poisoned

Qrow: This shit again. We don't have much time.

Jaune: Do you think you can beat him with next strike?

Qrow: Gonna need lot of luck... so no.

Jaune: Come on Qrow, what would Ruby say if she saw you giving up already.

Qrow: Using my niece against me... You play dirty kid.

Tyrian: Any last words Branwen?

Qrow: None for you to hear.

Gillian: Tyrian end this! Cross Poison!

Jaune: Qrow, Brave Bird one last time!

*Tyrian and Qrow charge past each other. Qrow falls to his knees*

Tyrian: He he he. Don't worry, I won't keep your friends in sky waiting Branwen.

CRITICAL HIT!

Tyrian: What? Ughhh....

Tyrian's Aura was broken. He is unable to continue the fight.

Qrow: Yeah, fuck you.

Huntsman Team Leader Jaune has won the fight.

Gillian: Curse you Jaune Arc.

*Gillian, Jax, Carmine and Tyrian disappear*

Jaune: Huh, this was a close fight. Just need to heal a bit and...

*someone flies down*

Cinder: Oh Arc, there is no healing... this is a gauntlet fight.

You are challenged by Fall Maiden Cinder *8 bit music blares*

Jaune: Aw crap...

#jaune arc #rwby jaune arc #rwby #rwby shitpost #rwby nora #nora valkyrie #rwby ren #lie ren #rwby qrow #qrow branwen #rwby tyrian #tyrian callows #gillian asturias #jax asturias #rwby carmine

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 11 months ago

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Pancakes|Felix

Felix enjoyed mornings.

He enjoyed how he would wake up and feel rested and refreshed. And how the tiredness from the previous day was gone and not a burden to him anymore.

He enjoyed walking into the kitchen and watching the sun shine through the small window above the kitchen sink. He loved how it would cause sparkles to float through the air. Even though he knew it was just sun illuminated dust.

He'd enjoy turning on the stove, and grabbing ingredients to make a wonderful breakfast from the cupboard. Sure, he'd realize that you guys were running out of flour and sugar, and that he'd probably have to stop by the store on the way back from work tonight, but he loved going to the store.

He enjoyed perfectly placing every single chocolate chip into his batter and mixing it all up, undoing the meticulous work he had just done.

He enjoyed how it only took a few minutes for those pancakes to be made and how he'd smile as he placed a plate in the microwave.

He'd start the coffee machine as he washed his favorite orange mug. A mug that used to have a design on it. It had since been rubbed off since he used the mug so much since you had given it to him.

He'd watch the steam come up from the coffee mug and then remember to grab the syrup from the fridge,

He'd delicately drizzle the maple sauce on his pancakes in thin and precise lines.

He'd be tempted to drizzle on more, but then remember he had to keep his physique in tact.

Once the coffee machine was done he'd pour a mug and add just one packet of sugar and a splash of cream.

Then he'd put the syrup in the fridge and swap it out for the orange juice, which he'd pour in a crystal clear cup.

He'd grab his fork and sit down at the small kitchen table.

He'd contemplate buying a bigger table so it would be easier when the guys came over.

Or it'd be easier when he had a family with you.

Then he'd clear the thought from his mind and listen to the birds as they sung their sweet serenade to the rising sun.

He'd slowly chew on his pancakes, and look towards the doorway leading out into the hallway.

His ears would perk up when he heard footsteps walk into the bathroom, and the sink turn on.

He'd smile as he waited for you to walk into the kitchen, sleep still snug in all the features of your face.

He'd laugh as he saw your adorable (yet understandably frustrating) frizzy hair. You'd walk with your eyes half closed, almost running into the table.

He enjoyed watching you take small little shuffles that couldn't even be considered steps towards the coffee machine, and how you'd chug back almost a half of a mug of just black coffee. Then you'd pour in your cream and sugar and top the cup off with the dark drink.

Then you'd find your plate of pancakes in the microwave and warm it up for twenty seconds, Not a second more. Not a second less.

He'd watch you pour a glass of orange juice and set it on the table.

He'd smile as you'd forget to put the carton back in the fridge when you went to grab the syrup.

Then he'd smile even bigger as he watched you pour syrup without any restraint.

Then you'd leave the syrup on the counter and sit down at the table.

He'd laugh quietly as your head nodded down.

He'd tease you later for falling asleep at the table while you'd retort with the answer that you were praying before your meal.

Felix would still be finishing his pancakes while you scarfed yours down, morning energy slowly filling you up.

After you both finished, you'd wash your plates together.

You'd go for your second cup of coffee as Felix was drying them and then Felix would go for his second cup of coffee.

You'd finally be awake enough to ask him if he slept well.

He'd smile as he responded as he always did. With a kiss to your nose and a yes.

And then you'd respond how you always did, with placing a kiss on his lips. Quick and chaste.

He'd have butterflies in his stomach every single time. And the smile plastered on his face was sure to be pointed out by Han or Hyunjin.

Like it always was.

Felix would be thinking about how great that kiss was (even if it was sweet and pure) all the way until he reached work.

He'd think about how great his morning was all the way until he reached home in the evenings.

And he'd fall asleep happily knowing it would happen again tomorrow.

Felix loved mornings.

Because they had you in it.

And well...

He really did love pancakes.

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

Reminder: Enhypen requests are still open/needed. I keep getting Skz but my requests are closed for them atm. All members of Enha/OT7 are open though :) the list will be dropping once I have all requests queued because I want write what you guys want not what I want :)

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

#skz stay #skz imagines #skz x reader #lee felix #skz fluff

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716chr · 1 year ago

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Chihiro Natsuyaki SSR Story “Dazzling Dancing!” - Part 2

#ちぃとデートなうに使っていいよ

Location: HAMA Street

Chihiro: Haa~….. Those pancakes were a total delight, so fluffy and chewy~!

Kaede: For sure. The sauce wasn’t too sugary, but you can still taste the fruity flavor….

Chihiro: Yep, yep! The strawberry flavor is the perfect match for Turysuke. That cafe is totally worth a recommendation ☆

Chihiro: Thanks for sharin’ Stakichi’s pancake too

Chihiro: Gettin’ to eat both made Chii’s belly and heart so full of happiness~♪

Chihiro: Huh? Is that music coming from somewhere?

Kaede: There seems to be something going on over there….. Ah

Kaede: That boy is using the storefront windows’ glass as a mirror to practice his dancing

Chihiro: ……Somehow, that’s pretty nostalgic

Kaede: Nostalgic?

Chihiro: Yeah, yeah. This feels super nostalgic!

[Alternate Choice]

Kaede: That boy resembles you, Chihiro-kun

Chihiro: Eh, is that so?

Kaede: Yeah. It’s not about his appearance, but the way he’s carefully checking the choreography and the attention he gives to each of his movements

Chihiro: …..Mana-pii, ya got a sharp eye for details

Chihiro: You see, actually, when I was little, I used to practice dancing in front of stores’ windows in the city, just like that

TL Note: From this point onwards, Chihiro swapped over to using オレ so I’ll be using first person pronoun instead of third person pronoun like before

Chihiro: This is long before I even appeared on an audition show

Chihiro: No one taught me; I was practicing dancing alone, copying whatever I saw

Chihiro: “Quiet down!”, people would sometimes yell at me as they walked by, but I was too immersed in dancing that I didn’t pay any attention to that……

Kaede: Chihiro-kun….

Chihiro: W-Well, even though I practiced my ass off, I still got rejected from the audition show!

Boy in uniform: Sorry I’m late, I was on duty today!

Boy practicing dance: No worries. Let’s pick up from where we left off!

Girl in jersey: I’ve been practicing those steps on my own. Today’s gonna be the day I perfect it!

Chihiro: Ah….. That kid’s part of a dance group….

Kaede: (The boy who was dancing alone earlier looks much happier now…..)

Kaede: …..To me, that’s how Chihiro-kun looks like right now

Chihiro: Huh?

Kaede: Chihiro-kun, just now you talked about how you “used to have fun dancing”, as if it’s a thing of the past

Kaede: But aren’t you also having a great time dancing with everyone in Ev3ns right now?

Chihiro: Wh…. Wha…..!?

Kaede: …..Am I right?

Chihiro: …..Hnng. Yeah, it’s definitely… much more fun now

Chihiro: Brainstorming ideas for the fanmeets with Raitin, rehearsing songs with Kinyari….

Chihiro: And making progress with Tao-Tao, us gradually being able to do things we couldn’t do before; each one of them makes me really happy

Chihiro: Because I wouldn’t be able to make all of this a reality by myself

Chihiro: ——The reality of being an idol alongside everyone. And to Mana-pii who gave me that chance…. I couldn’t be more grateful

Chihiro: Seriously, I’m so done! I always end up spillin’ everything in front of Mana-pii!

Kaede: Ahaha, I’m all ears if you ever wanna talk, so feel free to tell me anything

Chihiro: Geez….. You shouldn’t say that so casually. It’s gonna make me wanna be all needy around you

Chihiro: Today was really fun. Can I invite you out like this again?

Chihiro: But next time the line might be real bad though….

Kaede: Absolutely. No matter how long the line is, as long as I’m with Chihiro-kun, it’ll always gonna be fun

Chihiro: ……Yeah!

Part 1 | Part 2

#18trip translation #chihiro natsuyaki #18trip

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mars-ipan · 8 months ago

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hiii looking around... did somebody say komahinanami... hehee.. im blanking a teensy bit bc i wasnt expecting to be consumed by a lake of fire (the joy of them squishies) when i got off work. but nyaaaaa hai i'll dig around in my pockets.

i dont know if ive mentioned this in passing b4 on thirst or not but it's still True so. but i think hajime forever doomed True little spoon. he's getting cuddled from both sides, like forever. he settles into bed with just chiaki and he thinks just Maybe he's gonna get to hold her but komaeda is very quickly chasing them and he's back in the middle squished again. it's nice but he's forced to the one armed side hug and he's :( until theyre just sliding all over him. rolling on his chest like bugs throughout the night.

they wake up all sleepy yawn rubbing their eyes and hinata drags them to the kitchen. im not sure eee how their home would look, if theyd even Want one. would they build one, would they swap between cabins? do they just steal the lobby of the hotel for a little bit? no great idea they just use their Fuck Nest (old house)'s kitchen. they just live there for the most part because it's spacious and it's.. well it is a house? besides the freako kinda hotel lobby it's a house. i think they have a cute little island with barstools in their ugly fucking restaurant grade kitchen. their just fucking giant stove they use to make like pancakes and like spaghetti. i think hajime's properly the designated cook because freak 1 and freak 2 are just so accident prone. chiaki tries her best, even thinks of cooking as a minigame to motivate herself but hajime found her asleep washing dishes and the oven with Something on fire. it was supposed to be a cake, hajime can not even tell it used to hve a shape it's just ash by the time he gets it out. theyre' lucky they dont Die. and nagito. he's just banned from using the kitchen to cook even small things like he's not allowed to make a pb&j , so he's forced pampered hehe. he's not allowed bc last time he tried to make a sandwich he broke the fridge which then flooded the kitchen because the switch for water just wouldnt stop gushing even unplugged. he still feels bad when he walks over to get a drink and the floor is bent inward a little.

nyaa hm. i just really like their domestic life i think they deserve to lounge about after Everything. they have designated game nights where chiaki crushes them each and everytime no matter what

you were probably expecting a cute doodle but i envisioned komaeda fucking SPRINTING to join hinanami for a cuddle session like an overexcited cat and couldn't stop giggling

#ask #mice #martzipan #hajime hinata #nagito komaeda #chiaki nanami #komahinanami #get glomped . idiot #also i had completely forgotten abt the Fuck Nest headcanon seeing it mentioned here took me out #i need to clear out the confessions inbox actually. maybe tomorrow #these are all really cute hcs and you're very correct btw. super cute super sweet

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magpiepills · 1 year ago

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Misunderstood

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!resder

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Marcus has a bad day at work and needs you to help him feel better.

Warnings: SMUT, established relationship, PIV, oral (f and m receiving) fingering, big dick Marcus, multiple orgasms, thumb sucking, cum eating, cum swapping, dirty talk, some degradation, use of a tie as a leash sort of?, alcohol consumption, pancakes, cardigans, NPR, idk what else man, this is not fluffy Marcus.

A word from the author: this is a repost! I’ve got no idea what happened here. I was up at 5 am writing Marcus Pike smut. I haven’t even seen the mentalist. Thanks to the magic sluts, home is where the whores are!

The door opened and closed with a familiar sound, but ushered in an energy that was foreign to the serene atmosphere of your apartment. “Fucking…art crime.” Marcus muttered, taking off his jacket as if it was responsible for his sour mood. He loosened his tie, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his once crisp white shirt, now wilted with sweat and the dirt of the day.

You dried the last plate and put it in its slot in the cabinet before going to greet your love.

Quiet, like you were approaching a deer, trying not to startle him, you sank onto the sofa beside where he slumped, jaw set and eyes boring into the middle distance.

“Marcus, I'm glad you’re home. I'm just about to start dinner. H-how was your day?” Your voice was soft and warm, meant to soothe, but it was a foolish question. The crease between his eyebrows was all you needed to see.

Thinking better than to press him, you went to the bar cart and poured a generous splash of whiskey.

“Hard day.” Was all he offered.

Finishing the glass in two gulps, Marcus handed the glass back to you, “more” he requested wordlessly. You obliged, another heavy pour and this time he drank it slowly, turning the glass in his hand to watch the light shift in the etched glass while you watched, eager to help him forget whatever had him wound so tight.

Of course no one saw what you saw. They saw his easy, affable manner, his smooth shaven jaw, his casual Friday cardigans, how he listened when people talked, how he laughed at dumb jokes, how he always refilled he coffee pot, and they saw all of these qualities, and they chalked them up as weakness.

They didn’t see how his eyes glowed dark, how his hand held firm in your hair, cracked against the round of your ass, didn’t hear him whispering into your ear all the methods he had thought of for ruining you while he waited for the coffee to brew in the break room.

Maybe they’d regard him with a bit more authority if they heard how commanding he could be when he sat his glass on the coffee table and told you to come suck it. Maybe if they saw how he slipped his tie over your head, wound it around his fist and tugged your face to the straining erection under his sensible slacks they’d take him a little more seriously. If they could just see him now.

Your knees burnt as they dug into the rug that sweet Marcus had carried up the stairs to your apartment for you. Your eyes watered as his cock filled your throat, nudging almost far enough to make you gag. “Yeah. Just like that, baby. Breathe through your nose. Get it wet.” He eased his grip on the tie enough to let you move, making room to wrap your hand around his shaft and pump it while you hollowed your cheeks over the fat head of his cock, lips sliding smoothly over his foreskin, before you pulled it gently down and sucked in earnest. You wanted for all of his focus to be solely between his legs. You watched his eyes as he watched you spit on his cock, using your hand to spread it up and down his length while you licked his balls, cradling them on your tongue. You worked him steadily while his head fell back against the couch, eyes closed as he rocked his hips to meet your mouth. “Fuck. Fuuuuuck. Oh, baby. Suck it so good.” His hips rocked more urgently, his words slurred as he inched closer to his release and you eagerly waited to taste his cum. You’d let him film your mouth then show him how it covered your tongue, dripped down your chin before swallowing it down and pushing the drops that escape back into your mouth before you open, letting him see that you’ve gratefully swallowed every drop.

You don’t get to show him though, because he’s hooking his thick hungers back into the circle of fabric around your neck and pulling you off of him with a wet pop and a hiss. He smacks your cheek, more affection than sting, but you can feel how much he needs you to surrender to him. He’s in no mood for putting you in your place tonight. Keeping his fingers looped through the fabric he sits up straighter and watches as you rub your pussy with your hand under your dress, suddenly shy as he looms over you. Marcus watches a moment before he sighs and nods, as if finally understanding. “Sucking cock makes your pussy wet, hm? Can’t help but get on your knees and rub your pussy, huh, baby?” An image floats before his eyes, you on your knees, sucking him deep and hard while he watches you fuck yourself on that dildo he bought you, the one with the suction cup, the one he could stick on the mirror in the hallway so he could watch the way your pussy stretched and gripped the purple silicone, taking it and his cock at the same time. He files that thought away for next time, too far gone to fool with toys right now.

“Take all that off.” He gestures at you, tugging his own shirt over his head, hurriedly kicking his pants to the side, naked so he can feel your hot skin on his when he pulls you to the floor by his tie around your neck, the only thing you’ve left on. He lays you down between the couch and coffee table, a narrow space just big enough for the two of you. He likes how you’ll let him take you however he wants, wherever he wants. You’re a vessel for him to fill. Marcus takes a moment to smooth down the striped fabric of his tie, admiring the way it falls between your breasts. You try not to squirm, but you’re dripping for him, an achy throb in your cunt that only his cock can quell.

You love Marcus when he’s a gentle, tender lover. Love him when he brings home fresh bread from the best bakery, when he makes you pancakes while he listens to Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me on lazy Saturday mornings, when he holds your hand in museums, squeezing you as you lean your head on his shoulder, lost in the romance of the Baroques and the Rococos. You love him now as he pushes your knees up, grabbing your hand, showing you how he wants you to hold yourself open to him, giving him unfettered access to your puffy, slick cunt. Using his thumbs, he spreads you open, slips over your folds, teasing your clit with a roll of his digits, teases your entrance with them, pushing his thumb into you just one knuckle deep before dragging it back out to distribute more of your wetness, replacing it with his other thumb before repeating the motion, alternating thumbs, sliding up over your clit, faster and faster he moves, dripping saliva onto you to add to the squelching sounds. Winding your hips, you focus on your orgasm, just in reach when suddenly you’re being stretched further, two thumbs in your fluttering cunt, flat fingers against your clit making you cry out, body taut as your orgasm is pulled from you by the hands of the only man that owns you this way.

Before you can catch your breath, his hand is back on the tie, pulling you up to watch as he spears into you. He wishes he could go faster, he needs to be inside, but you’re so tight and his cock is so big he has to go slow. Wet thumb sliding around, over your clit and around his cock where he’s desperate to enter you, soothing the skin there with his touch, gentle despite his frenzy. You dare to look up and see him, snarling, mad with lust, teeth bared and chest heaving. “Fuck me Marcus. Please, daddy. Need your big cock so bad.” You whine. He doubles his efforts at your provocation, pushing in further, shallow thrusts becoming faster and deeper until he’s all the way in, head firmly pushed into your cervix and balls against your ass. There’s no air left in your lungs to ask him to please move already. Mercifully, he doesn’t wait long. He studies your face, your wet eyelashes, your mouth agape, cheeks and chest flushed pink, the face of a woman in need of a good fuck and he relents. He starts slowly, picking up speed, pulling out and slamming in and just the right angle to drag the coarse hair at the base of his cock over your swollen clit. It’s a lot. He sees it in your eyes, feels it in the way you squeeze his cock so tight. You’re close.

“You gonna come on daddy’s cock? Hm? You wait all day just for me to come home and fuck you like this? Treat you like a slut? Fuck you on the floor?” You try hard to answer him but all you can force out it a pathetic “yesyesyes!” As you squeeze your tits and pluck at your nipples the way he does, but not quite the same. It’s almost enough. Marcus can see that. He sees you right up against your second orgasm but unable to grasp it. He needs you to get there so he can follow you, Jack and Jill and the pail of water. He keeps his steady rhythm, holds his angle, and reaches to hold your cheek in his warm hand. He rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down until you open your mouth for him to slide it in, letting you taste yourself on his skin when he presses it into your tongue. It’s enough. More than enough. Your legs shake and your legs tighten around his waist. Words and meaning are lost between you. “Fuck, baby. Oh fuck. Oh! Ohhhhhhh.” He whimpers as your orgasm milks him of his own, draining every drop of cum from him.

You collect yourselves slowly, arms around his neck, him settled over you, kissing your face, whispering his love, his tie still hanging loose around your neck. You scratch his back, kiss his shoulder, and tap his side to let you up, you stand on shaky legs, not quite ready for gravity. You wonder what to make for dinner, consider resorting to takeout so you can just eat in bed. You think aloud, expecting some input from Marcus, but instead he holds your hips and directs you onto the couch, positioning you with your knees at the edge and your elbows on the back cushion so he can kneel behind you. You gasp, “Marcus! Marc-!” But he pays you no mind. Just licks messy stripes through your sensitive pussy, tasting himself, tasting you, humming at the vulgarity of what he’s doing, teasing your clit to make you shiver and flinch. Satisfied at last, he eases you onto your back to kiss you deep, sharing your combined flavor before taking your hand and leading you to the shower. Dinner can wait.

#marcus pike #marcus pike smut #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike fic #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x female reader #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #smut #bat writes

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winwin17 · 3 months ago

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Unraveled observations

My comments and opinions

Ch. 28-end

(Spoilers ahead, obviously)

I get that Keefe is hesitant to be buddies with Alvar, and I hate that I kinda know it's gonna happen anyway

The drop bears incident 😂😂 (Idk, Keefe and Alvar struck me as a little gullible in this part, but it's still funny)

Alvar is acting ... so not Alvar. I get that he's had a change of perspective, but it almost seems like he's completely not who he used to be?? Idk, it just feels inconsistent or ... off

Oh wow, Alvar's got his ability back! Kind of a surprise, kind of not. What repercussions are incoming??

Yeah, Keefe has a right to be upset about that.

Wait, I almost can't keep this straight. So Alvar decides what's worth living for is making a life you care about, and he's fine being done with fancy abilities and all that. And yet when Keefe partially heals him, suddenly he cares a whole lot about his ability again. Either he's just really conflicted or something's not right.

Also, what feels mostly wrong is that, amid all of Alvar's conflictedness, there's just ... no thoughts of going back to being a "bad guy"?? How is he suddenly just so super cemented as a Good Guy now?

Alvar does kinda treat Keefe the way he needs to be treated tho, tbh. It's good that he makes him face himself and share his thoughts.

That healing was intense. A little confusing and overwhelming? I want to learn more about how Keefe's new ability works, and what it's for/meant for, because honestly I'm confused right now.

The scene at the cemetery is kinda sweet. 😊 Keefe needs to stop blaming himself tho.

I love the interaction with Eleanor? It's so weird and bizarre, and they're both so confused by each other. I admittedly want more answers tho. (I think if there's any future interactions between humans and elves in the future, maybe Eleanor will be involved.)

I loved the "What *are* you??" 😄😄

Cool, we get to see that part from Stellarlune in Keefe's POV. (Also, I admire the dedication on Shannon's part to apparently go line by line with the Stellarlune account.)

But also! Oh boy, oh no!! Knowing that Alvar was hiding in there the whole time changes the scene *entirely*!

The last chat with Keefe and Alvar was kinda bittersweet. 😐 Kinda made me feel bad for Alvar, having to find his place all over again.

Also, I get that feeling betrayed/rejected by everyone and almost dying can change a person, but the Alvar arc still seems weird. Like, Alvar on the surface may have been a friendly family oriented guy in the early books, but beneath that, he never was just a chill guy. He was always looking for something, working for something, scheming, striving to prove himself, seeking revenge, his family "legacy", etc. But now he really has no driving motivation or life goal? Except surviving and ... pancakes?? Can you really just swap out a life motivation with pancakes?? Idk, Alvar is too chill now.

Also: Sure he's had a change in perspective and almost died and all that, but he has a much more balanced and healthy viewpoint than he's had time to heal from all his trauma and drama. He's kind of a mirror for Keefe, right? How did he just skip ahead to therapist level of balance and insight so fast?

I suspect he might end up back in the Lost Cities though. Probably swoop in to save Keefe and co. or something.

The bonus chapter of the Sokeefe confession really didn't do a lot for me. I didn't think changing the POV made it much different. 🤷🏼‍♀️

#kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlc unraveled #unraveled #unraveled spoilers #keefe sencen #alvar vacker #kotlc alvar #shannon messenger #sophie foster #sokeefe

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bless-my-demons · 2 years ago

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Redamancy: Chapter Eighteen

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Cuss words and angst, my bread and butter rn

Notes: I’m so sorry this is late tonight! I’m still reeling from Tuesday night’s Sleep Token concert… it was honestly life changing. I’ve been working on this chapter all day so I hope you like! I promise I’m trying to get through New Moon without dragging it out longer than necessary, I just need to set up certain things for… things👀

Word Count: 2383

Series Masterlist

• January 17th, 2006 • Home •

Reader

Long, cold fingers trail across my cheekbones - featherlight and almost reverent in their exploration. Cool lips brush my hairline and I can feel the smile against my skin. A grin tilts the corner of my mouth and I roll over to push my face into the hard chest at my side to just get a few more moments of sleep.

But my face didn't meet his chest, I rolled right onto a cool pillow.

I flip back over and blink at the ceiling of my bedroom. The fan begins to swim as the familiar tickle of tears threatens to bubble over the corners of my eyes, it was a dream.

Sleep used to be the reprieve from these feelings, but he’s bleeding into my subconscious too. Fuck, is this just life from now on? Not only just pining after someone by day, but dreaming of him by night too?

“How was your night out, sweetheart?” My mom calls as she hears me descend the stairs.

The scent of bacon and pancakes wafts down the hallway and my stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“The movie kinda sucked, but I think everyone had fun.” I go for the vague answer, not wanting to scare her by trying to explain Bella’s theory-on-danger test.

“Oh? What movie did you see?” Her eyebrows pinch together as she tosses the question over her shoulder.

“The new one that just came out about zombies, it had jump scares and chase scenes that had me scared out of my mind the entire time. And after the movie, Jessica went on this rant about how it might have a double meaning for leprosy, I had to fight not to laugh.” Pouring two glasses of orange juice, I set the table as I explained.

“Dear Lord, I worry about that girl sometimes.” Dishing food onto my plate, she pauses. “I’m glad you had a good night out.”

I opt to shove food in my mouth instead of responding to her quiet comment. Halfway through my pancakes, the familiar crunch of gravel under old tires sounds from the driveway.

“Who-?” But I’m peaking through the blinds before she could finish the thought.

“It’s Bella Swan.” I glance at my mother with raised brows before dashing to the front door.

Swinging it open before her raised fist could knock, “What are you doing here?”

“I uh, I came by to see if you wanted to hang out at the Rez with me today? I’m going to see Jacob if you want to tag along.” She toes her shoe on the corner of our welcome mat as she digs her hands in her jacket, nervous.

“Of course, let me go change! You’re more than welcome to come in while you wait.” I dash up the stairs before she can answer, leaving the door open for her to walk in.

“Isabella Swan! I’m so happy to see you stop by dear!” I sigh as I hear my mom’s over-excited voice drift through the house.

I try to hurry and swap my sweats for jeans before my mom could drill her for more information about last night. I love the woman to death, but her middle name might as well be nosy.

Snagging my current read from my desk after tugging on my ratty pair of chucks, I rush back downstairs.

“Ready!” I call to Bella.

“Thanks for letting her hang with me, Mrs. Y/l/n.” I hear Bella tell my mom before escaping the kitchen.

“Anytime dear, you hardly even have to ask.” My mom winks at me from over Bella’s shoulder and I roll my eyes playfully in response as we head out of the front door.

“Be safe you two! Call if you need anything!” Shouting from the front porch with a smile and a wave, I return the wave once I’m settled in the old red truck.

Turning onto the road, I dive right into my curiosity, “Okay so what’s really going on today?”

“We’re actually going to the Rez, but it’s a surprise.” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder to the bed of the truck.

Twisting, I notice something rather large covered with a tarp in the back. “And what is that?”

“Actually, what are those. And they were free, you’ll just have to wait and see.” Drumming her thumbs on the steering wheel to some imaginary beat, I huff and face forwards again.

If I had to go by any indication of what happened last night, this surprise doesn’t bode well.

• Black residence, La Push Indian Reservation •

Reader

Climbing from the old red truck, a tall and tan guy comes running up to meet us. Well - Bella, if his eyes souly trained on her is any indication of his attention.

“Bella! Where the hell have you been loca?” I notice the wide grin on his face causes one to appear on Bella’s, interesting.

Looking over her shoulder after spinning her in a circle, this Jacob guy finally notices me, “And who is this?”

“Oh that’s Y/n Y/l/n, a friend from school. I hope you don’t mind I asked her to tag along?” She finishes sheepishly, but he shakes her concern away and extends a hand towards me.

“Jacob Black, nice to meet you.” He flashes me a much smaller smile as I accept his handshake and nod with a small smile of my own.

“I uh, also brought you something.” Pointing at the tarp-covered-mass in the bed of her truck before flicking up a corner to show us. “It’s a little crazy.”

My eyes widen as I take in the two dirt bikes.

“Wow, scrap metal. You shouldn’t have.” Jacob jokes, already sensing the train wreck this is about to be.

“I saved them from the junkyard.” Glancing between us to measure our looks, “I think they’ll probably cost more to fix than they’re worth, but then I thought that I’d I had a mechanic friend to help me out then-”

“Oh - me, being the mechanic-type friend?” A half-laugh slips out of him as he puts the puzzle pieces together.

“That’s right.”

“Since when are you into motorcycles?” His question takes me back to last night and I play with the drawstrings on my worn hoodie anxiously.

“Since now.” A pause as she assesses him, “I get it if you think this is really stupid. And reckless-”

“It’s completely stupid and reckless.” She visibly deflates at his confirmation.

“Bella, I’m not sure this is the best idea-” but he cuts me off before I finish.

“When do we start?” Both of us snap our eyes to his face, searching for the punchline.

“Um, now! Please?” Bella responds dazed.

“Alright.” Jacob immediately reaches for the first bike to unload our new projects.

“Oh hey, be careful those things are actually-” He lifts them as if they’re toys instead, “Really heavy. Jake, you’re like, buff. How did that happen, you’re like sixteen.”

“Age is just a number baby, what are you like forty now?”

Bella’s eyes immediately meet mine and my breath stutters for a second at the discussion of age, something the both of us are all too aware of.

“Feels like that sometimes.”

We both follow him into the garage around the side of his house as he pushes both bikes inside. Settling onto the old couch behind where Jacob works, I dive into my book while Bella watches him take everything apart.

Over the weekend, Bella drops me off and picks me up again to hang out while Jacob works away at the first bike. It’s comfortable, relaxing and enjoying their company without having to feel like I need to contribute, my presence being all that Bella wants from me.

Soft music drifts from his radio perched nearby, but Bella leans over to switch it off.

“This song's good, you don’t like it?”

“Um, I don’t really… like music anymore, kind of.” Bell’s confession causes me to reread the page I’m on, sadness spilling into my chest and distracting me from the words on the page, because I get it.

“Okay, no more music.” Jacob gets back to cranking on one particularly stubborn bolt and I meet Bella’s eyes over the top of my book, a knowing look passing between us.

We’re two sides of the same sad coin, no matter how you flip it, the outcome is always the same - hurt and anger and denial. There’s no winning anything tossing this coin - it’s the crusty penny that’s forgotten about on a sidewalk somewhere facing tails-up. Nobody wants it because it’s not bringing you good luck and there’s so few people in this world that are the type to stop and flip it over for the next person. That’s what it feels like, watching everyone pass us by as they live life, no one to stop and pick us up.

Except maybe for Jacob, for Bella at least. Meanwhile, I have him in my dreams.

Light knocking echos in the large space, “Yo Jake, you in there?” Two boys emerge from the slightly open door.

“It’s okay, it’s just my boys.” Jacob informs us as he sees us tense at the intrusion.

“Hey Jake.” They both greet their friend while observing us.

“Hey guys, this is Bella,” Directing a hand towards her and then me, “And this is Y/n.” Turning to look at us now, he points at the two newcomers, “That’s Quil and Embry.”

“I’m Quil Atera.” Nodding in our direction, trying to play it cool.

I cover my mouth to stifle a giggle at the obvious flirtation.

“So the bike building story is true?” Quil Atera asks.

“Oh yeah, I taught him everything he knows.” Another giggle threatens to burst at her mock-serious answer.

“What about the part where you’re his girlfriend?”

I immediately choke on my laughter at Bella’s surprise, girlfriend?

“Actually we’re friends.” Bella fires back and I cringe.

“Ooo-burn!” Embry teases.

“Actually, I remember I said she’s a girl and a friend.” Jacob says, trying to cover his blunder with his friends.

“Embry, do you remember him making that distinction?”

“Nope.” Embry pops the ‘p’ to exaggerate the embarrassment.

“So you guys have girlfriends, that’s awesome.”

Jacob immediately busts out laughing at her comeback, “Yeah right, Quil's actually taking his cousin to prom.”

“Oh ouch.” This time I jump in to acknowledge the burn.

“Yeah that’s still alright. You want funny, Black? I’ll give you funny!” Quil launches at Jacob and the two go at it like kids at recess trying to take each other to the ground in a play-fight.

Embry lumbers over to us and we take turns laughing and placing bets on the two rough-housers. It’s starting to feel normal, hanging out with other people again.

Just not the normal I wanted.

• January 17th, 2006 • Ithaca, New York •

Jasper

A soft knock at my bedroom door raises my eyes from my book.

I wasn’t actually reading, it was more of a stare-and-daydream sort of thing. The words weren’t registering on the page, but her eyes were. They filled the gaps between sentences, her smile occupied the margins, her laugh drowned out the page turns.

It was useless trying to think of anything else, she was everywhere I looked. I didn’t have the option of sleep, but I know that wouldn’t be a reprieve either.

“Carlisle and I are going hunting, would you like to join us sweetheart?” Esme’s voice has always been kind and her emotions are even kinder. Patience, hopefulness, and the worst: love and understanding. Those two hurt the worst, understanding felt more like pity and the love? There was only one person’s love I wanted to feel, everyone else’s paled in comparison.

“I’m fine, not hungry.” If my gravely voice didn’t give my lie away, my black eyes certainly did.

Pain, sadness, pity-

Anger flares in my chest at the last one and I’m up from my chair in a flash, turning my gaze away from my adoptive mother and out my window. The split second of anger I felt towards Esme adds another speck of rot to the inside of my chest.

“I-I’m sorry hun, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine.” Looking over my shoulder, but not quite meeting her eyes, “Enjoy your hunt with Carlisle.”

She’s gone half a second later, her light perfume drifts through my empty room and it makes me regret being short with her.

“The fuck is your deal?” Annoyance seeps from Rosalie in my doorway.

“The fuck is yours, Rose?” Long gone is the southern gentleman I was raised to be as I spin around.

“You. You and Edward. This sulk in my room and refuse to function bullshit!”

“What does it matter to you? You have Emmett, you have everything you want-”

“Stop right there.” Her tone was absolutely lethal and I know why. “You’re throwing her away and forcing everyone else to too-”

“You don’t get to lecture me on her-”

“I can and I will! It’s quite literally tearing this family apart!” Her slender finger pokes the middle of my chest and I temper the urge to snap it.

“Since when do you give a shit about this family?” I sneer back at her.

“I care about how this is eating at the sister I never had growing up. I give a shit about how this is killing the light in my husband’s eyes. I care about how it’s hurting Esme to see two of her sons struggling for no reason. And believe it or not, I care about you and Edward too.” She pauses, eyes flicking between mine, searching. “One fuck up-”

“It wasn’t just a fuck up!” I grip her upper arms and shake her lightly. “I could’ve killed her! I went fucking nuclear and with her there is no room for fuck ups!”

“You’re in love with her.” The realization surprises her.

“It’s more than that.” I drop the hold I have on her and begin pacing.

“Mates?” Now the real shock settles in on my sister.

I don’t stop pacing, letting my silence answer for me.

“Fuck.” Rose’s response is beginning to feel like a summary of my life now.

Taglist:

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#redamancy series #bless-my-demons #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #twilight #jasper hale x female!reader #jasper hale #female reader insert

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xiaq · 1 year ago

Text

Steddie Time Travel Fix-it pt. 13 [now complete!]

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8 Pt. 9 Pt. 10 Pt. 11 Pt. 12

Good things don’t happen to Eddie Munson.

They just don’t.

His entire life up until the age of 18 has been a series of unfortunate events only rarely interspersed with positive occurrences: Wayne. His guitar. DnD.

So he knows from the beginning of whatever the hell this thing is with Steve, that at some point the other shoe will drop. Because boys like Steve Harrington do not fall in love with boys like Eddie Munson. And if they do, it certainly doesn’t last.

So when, on an otherwise near euphoric Saturday morning, Steve’s parents unexpectedly arrive home, Eddie thinks: this is it; this is where my sudden rash of good luck finally runs out.

Eddie realized early on that Steve’s parents were absent in a way that went past “absent” and veered into the territory of “neglect.” They show up once or twice a month for a few days, but thet’re never present in a way that parents should be for their child. The house is more of an item to check off a list than anything else––a place to call home in between travel, a place to keep the clothes they swap before departing again. Steve tries to play it off like he doesn’t care, like the empty magazine-pretty soulless house is a blessing––and it certainly has been recently considering the prefab walls of Wayne’s trailer do not prioritize privacy. But even if Steve genuinely doesn’t care now, no kid wants to be alone.

Eddie thinks about a younger version of Steve. Sixteen. Fourteen. Twelve. Coming home to silence. No one asking about his day. Cooking himself dinner. Eating alone.

Steve had mentioned, offhand, that he used to have a nanny before he was too old to need one. Eddie hadn’t asked how old was too old for a caretaker. He was afraid the answer might break his heart. Because Steve tells stories sometimes that he thinks are funny. Stories about leaving the television on at night to trick himself into thinking someone else was there so he wouldn’t have nightmares. Stories about missing the bus and getting sick and learning how to do his laundry. They’re self-deprecating stories. Like it’s his fault he got lost when walking the four miles home from school because he had no one to call to pick him up. Like it’s his fault that his fever got so bad that he ended up sleeping naked on the cool tile of the kitchen floor because there was no Advil in the house and he was too sick to walk to the store. Like it was his fault he used too much detergent because no one had ever taught him otherwise.

Eddie takes those stories and tucks them away and thinks that, at least now, he can ensure Steve has someone. That he’ll never be stranded or sick or confused with no one to call for help again.

They do take advantage of Steve’s parent’s absence. Eddie and Steve spend most Friday afternoons and weekends there, hosting the kids and their families: Steve cooking or Hopper and Wayne grilling, Eddie mostly getting in the way. And once summer break starts, they take turns staying at each other’s places. A couple days with Wayne, especially if there’s a sports game Steve and Wayne want to watch together, before a couple days at Steve’s house where they can feel free to…engage in their own athletic activities.

So. It’s a Saturday morning. After a slow, sweet, late-night Friday. The kind of Friday Eddie didn’t even know was possible, didn’t know he could hope for, until Steve came along.

They’re both in boxers and nothing else: Steve’s are covered in baseball bats—a gift from Max; Eddie’s are a plaid that is disconcertingly similar to the wallpaper in Steve’s room.

Eddie is sitting on the counter next to the bowl of batter Steve is dipping out of, trying to make pancake shapes and mostly failing. Eddie had done the first batch, which were nearly all dick-shaped, before Steve decided he should take over.

So now there are hearts and lopsided stars on the griddle being carefully monitored by Steve while Eddie has his battle jacket in his lap, finishing the final stitches on the back panel.

And while Steve pokes at the pancakes, Eddie is trying to convince Steve to re-join the basketball team.

This is what love has done to him.

“I don’t understand,” Steve is pouting. “You want me to quit Hellfire?”

“No, I’m saying that we can move Hellfire to a different night next year so you can do your sportsball shit and DnD.”

Eddie, unsurprisingly, is having to retake his senior year. He’s not that upset about it considering that means he’ll be graduating with his boyfriend. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley’s sudden determination that he graduate with good grades is a little concerning, but there are worse things in the world than being cared about by nerds.

“The basketball guys are all assholes,” Steve argues, hands on his hips. He looks like a dad at a soccer game, only more naked. It shouldn’t be hot. But Eddie has resigned himself to the fact that he finds Steve hot at all times, and distressingly so when he’s being bitchy or bossy, which are his default settings.

“Yeah, but you’re better than most of them,” Eddie points out. “You’d be a shoe-in for captain. And if you aren’t on the team, Lucas said he probably won’t join when he gets to highschool. And,” the most important part, the part that Eddie really has had to come to terms with, “you love it. The way I love DnD. And I want you to do the things you love. Even if they’re with sweaty jocks. Who knows. Maybe you’ll even be a good influence and by the time Lucas gets there only half of them are assholes.”

Steve flips the pancakes. “You’d really move DnD for me?”

He’d do considerably more than that.

“Baby, I may not understand your freakish desire to participate in team sports but I’m not going to begrudge the joy it will bring you.”

Steve grins and it makes him look young. Lighter, somehow.

“What if I make new friends? What if I bring them to DnD? You sure you’re okay with sweaty jocks infiltrating your inner scrotum or whatever.”

“Inner sanctum,” Eddie corrects.

“That’s what I said.”

“It’s really not.”

Eddie is 85% sure Steve is fucking with him. He likes to lean into the dumb meathead stereotype, mostly, Eddie thinks, because people underestimate him, but now with the additional bonus that Steve knows it drives Eddie a little bit crazy. And Steve, for all of his excellent qualities, is a bit of bitch.

“That being said,” Eddie leers, “you can also infiltrate my inner––”

“Okay, okay,” Steve says. He pushes at one of Eddie’s knees so he can step between his legs. So he can drop a kiss to either side of his mouth before pushing further into his space, one hand on the back of his head, holding him steady when he brings their lips together.

“If it means so much to you, I’ll call the coach tomorrow,” Steve murmurs. “Summer training doesn’t start for a few more weeks. Should be plenty of time for me to get back in shape.”

“Ehn,” Eddie manages.

Steve looks pleased with himself when he steps back to the stove, stacking his finished stars and hearts untidily next to Eddie’s dicks.

He ladles out the final batch––circles, clearly their creativity has waned––as Eddie holds up the vest for a critical once-over.

“Done?” Steve asks.

“I think so.” Eddie holds it out accommodatingly. “I need to see it modeled to be certain.”

Steve discards the spatula and turns, feeding his arms through the sleeves. He tugs at the bottom with a considering pout.

“Well, give me a spin, pretty boy,” Eddie says.

Steve spins. He peacocks toward the patio doors and then back in what is probably supposed to be a mimicry of a runway walk but is mostly just ridiculous. He pauses, just before he’s in reach, and pretends to headbang over an air-guitar solo.

“What do you think?” He asks, shoving his hair out of his eyes and somehow managing to keep a straight face, “is it metal enough?”

“Except for the goddamn ABBA pin,” Eddie grouses, like he hadn’t been delighted when Steve gave it to him last week with a shit-eating grin.

Steve sways just close enough that Eddie can reach out and grab the lapels, reeling him back in. “Only one problem, though,” he sighs.

Steve’s expression immediately sobers. “What?”

“It looks too good on you. I might not want it back. Might just want you to wear it forever.”

Steve kisses him. “Joint custody?” He suggests.

“For an only child you are shockingly good at sharing,” Eddie agrees.

And then, the front door opens.

And a woman’s voice calls, “Steve?

And Steve’s hands, cupped around Eddie’s hips, go tight before he releases them and steps back. Away.

“Mom?” He answers, looking lost.

“Steve, honey, come help me with this,” she answers, backgrounded by a jingle of keys and the clack of roller-suitcase wheels.

Eddie slides down off the counter to his feet and then just––stands there. Half-naked and wide-eyed and with a well of despair quickly drowning the quiet happiness that had previously filled his chest. And he thinks: this is it; this is where my sudden rash of good luck finally runs out.

There’s no making it up the stairs without passing through the front room. No way to get to the garage, either. He considers, briefly, just going out the back door, near-nudity be damned, but Steve must clock what he’s thinking and reaches out, grabbing his wrist.

“Did you mean it?” Steve whispers.

Two weeks before, they’d driven out to the quarry, laid a quilt on the hood of the beemer, and shared a smoke and a series of lazy kisses while looking at the stars.

“I don’t mean to be a downer,” Steve had said contemplatively, his fingers moving aimlessly through Eddie’s hair. “But this happy bubble that we’re in isn’t going to last. We should probably talk about what happens when it…” he paused, brow furrowed adorably with the deep concentration of someone stoned. “...pops.”

“Okay,” Eddie said, not following.

“The kids and Hop and Wayne knowing about us and being so cool about it––that’s not how my parents will react, when they find out.”

“When,” Eddie repeated.

“They will,” Steve had said, half resigned, half something else. He says it with confidence, maybe. Or maybe even pride. “Because if we keep spending all this time together one of the neighbors will mention it to my mom, or someone will see us too close in the grocery store and tell my Dad. Or they’ll show up unannounced one day to find us skinny dipping in the pool. And I’m not going to stop spending time with you, so. It’ll happen.”

“Okay,” Eddie repeated, understanding.

“So when that happens,” Steve said, “do you want me to deny it? And we start being more careful. Or do I give them an honest answer and probably get disowned? Frankly I’d rather do the latter but I know the house is a perk. Not just for us but for the kids. For everyone.”

“You think your parents might get violent?” Eddie asked.

Steve’s fingers went still in his hair. “My dad, maybe. I can handle him, though. If I have to.”

Eddie hated the look on his face.

“You’d be willing to give up the house and the money and everything?”

“Money won’t be an issue. The car’s title is in my name and I’ve been building a nice cushion in my savings account. Not planning to be cut off or anything but…”

“Just in case,” Eddie supplied.

“Just in case,” Steve agreed. “The problem is that it could cause a lot of trouble for you. And I’m not eighteen yet in this timeline, so getting an apartment or something would be––”

“I love trouble,” Eddie interrupted, crossing his fingers and holding them up, “Trouble and I are like this. And obviously you’d move in with us until the end of the school year. Of course you’d move in with us. We’ve got two bedrooms in the new place and Wayne thinks the sun shines out your ass and he doesn’t try to make me watch sports with him anymore when you’re around. You might have to cut down your hair routine in the mornings, though, if we’re all sharing a bathroom on school days.”

Steve had laughed and kissed him, which was the response Eddie was angling for, and they’d settled back to continue their star gazing and Eddie hadn’t thought about it much since except for occasionally at night, on the rare nights when he wasn’t with Steve. And even then he only thought about it abstractly. Living together for real. Waking up together every morning. Making breakfast. Getting to touch Steve whenever the whim hit him. It’s too soon. And they’re too young. And it would be a huge inconvenience at best and actively dangerous at worst if other people like his parents were to find out.

But they’re careful when they’re in public. And Steve’s folks are never there and Eddie hadn’t thought––well he hadn’t been certain how serious Steve was, anyway, when they’d had that conversation.

Now, standing in the kitchen, listening to Steve’s mom enter the house, he can’t reconcile the question Steve’s now asking with the reality of the situation. Standing in the Harrington kitchen at the six-burner stove, surrounded by top-of-the-line appliances, while the water from the pool outside reflects sun through the double glass patio doors. No way Steve would give up all of this for––

“Eddie,” Steve whispers urgently.

“Yeah,” Eddie exhales. “I meant it.” He did. He does.

“Then call Hopper,” he says lowly. “Get him over here. Just in case”

And then he’s walking confidently into the front room.

Eddie reaches for the phone.

“What,” Hopper snarls after the third ring. “It’s my day off.”

“It’s Eddie,” Eddie whispers. “Steve’s parents got back early and––”

Hopper's voice abruptly loses its sleepy fuzziness. “Are you safe?”

“They haven’t seen me yet. But they’re going to. And it’s––they’ll know. And Steve isn’t going to deny it.”

“Five minutes.”

“Thanks, Hop.”

He hangs up the phone and, with one last, reluctant, look at the back porch doors, he walks around the corner into the front room.

Steve’s dad, wrestling a bag over the threshold, glances up at his entrance and goes still.

Steve, helping his mom collapse the handle of her suitcase, carefully moves to place himself between his father and Eddie.

Suddenly, all the little noises from before stop. Eddie watches as Robert Harrington’s attention moves from Steve’s inarguably defensive stance, to Eddie and Steve’s combined lack of clothing, to the riot of Steve’s hair and the red of his lips. From the tattoos on Eddie’s arms and his ribs to the mouth-shaped bruises that sit like a possessive necklace at the base of his throat. His gaze moves back to linger on the vest Steve is still wearing.

“Steven,” his father says.

“Dad,” Steve answers levelly. “I didn’t expect you for two more days.”

“Clearly. What’s happening here?”

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?” Steve says. “Because once I say it, I can’t take it back. Once I say it, we can’t pretend anymore.”

“Pretend,” his mother starts with a flighty little laugh. “I don’t understand.”

Steve is still looking at his dad.

“Steven,” Robert Harrington says.

“Ok, then,” Steve says. His voice is low and firm and devastatingly certain. “This is Eddie. My boyfriend.”

Steve’s mother sits, abruptly, on the couch, still clinging to her luggage.

“No,” Robert Harrington says.

Steve laughs, a huff of a thing with raised eyebrows and a disbelieving shake of his head. “I did give you the option of ignorance,” he says. “You didn’t take it.”

He glances behind him, meets Eddie's eyes with a crooked, if sad, grin, and nods toward the stairs. “You wanna grab your stuff? I think we’re probably going to be kicked out here in a minute.”

Eddie does not want to leave Steve alone, but Eddie also does not want to be nearly naked under the baleful gaze of Robert Harrington anymore. He gives Steve a look that is meant to convey ‘yell if you need me,’ and he goes upstairs.

It takes less than a minute for him to pull on his clothes from the night before and he laces his boots on the landing at the top of the stairs, ears straining to overhear the muffled conversation occuring downstairs. There’s a lot of swearing coming from Steve’s dad and maybe some restrained sobs coming from Steve’s mother but it doesn’t sound like Steve needs help. So Eddie shoves the rest of his stuff from the bathroom counter and the nightstand into his backpack and then pulls open Steve’s top dresser drawer to pick some clothes for him. One of his own shirts is front and center and it’s purely for expediency that he tosses it onto the bed, following it with a pair of jeans, socks, and a jacket.

And then––

Then he goes downstairs.

The voices are getting louder, not just due to proximity.

Eddie pauses, just for a moment as he descends the last few steps, assessing the situation. Steve’s dad is in Steve’s face, hissing something about disgust and embarrassment and Steve’s mother is crying about knowing they were leaving him alone too much which Eddie thinks is rich. He might be shit at school but even he knows that correlation doesn't equal causation. If neglectful parents were the only requirement for homosexuality, gay marriage would probably be legal and politicians opposing it would only have themselves to blame.

“I can make you a list of house stuff you’ll need to deal with,” Steve is saying with an aloofness that has to come from the few extra years he’s lived, tucked secretly behind his too-young face. “You’ll need to hire a pool company and lawn service, to start. And there’s a guy who’s coming to look at the gutters next Tuesday, so you’ll need to reschedule that since I’m assuming you aren’t staying that long.”

Eddie goes to the kitchen. He turns off the stove, bins the final, now blackened, batch of pancakes and loads up the rest––dicks, stars, hearts––into a tupperware. He tucks that into his bag, has a brief argument with the zipper, and then returns to the sitting room.

“The only place you’re going,” Steve’s father is snarling, “is someplace they can fix this.”

“That’s not one of the options I gave you,” Steve says patiently. “Either you let me stay and you get to keep pretending I’m whatever you want me to be, or I move out and I make it clear to anyone who asks that I don’t consider myself a Harrington anymore. Your choice.”

“There’s a place in California,” Steve’s dad says. “Harriet, where was it that Marge sent her son?”

Steve’s mom just continues to clutch her luggage and sob.

“We’ll sort it out on Monday,” he continues. “You can spend the summer there and be back before your junior year. And you––” he points at Eddie, you will leave and you will not associate with my son anymore. God knows what you’ve put in his head––”

“Senior year, dad,” Steve sighs. “I just finished my junior year. And I was the one that seduced Eddie. If that matters to you.”

“It’s true,” Eddie says, summoning a brashness he does not at all feel. “I was there.”

“Harriet,” Robert shouts. “Stop crying and go find the number of that place in California.”

“No point,” Steve says evenly. “I already said I won’t go.”

“You’re my son. You’ll do whatever the hell I tell you to do.”

“No,” Steve repeats, like he’s talking to an obstinate child. “I’m not. And I won’t.”

“Yes you fucking will, or––”

The doorbell rings.

Everyone goes still for several seconds until it rings a second time, accompanied by a brusque knock. Steve’s dad mutters a string of expletives under his breath and goes to answer it.

It’s only when Eddie hears Hopper's voice saying, “Robert, I didn’t know you were in town,” that Eddie finally feels like he can take a full breath.

He thinks, absently, that his intense relief at the arrival of the chief of police is more than a little hilarious, considering the same chief of police has arrested him on more than one occasion. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though.

“We just got back,” Steve’s dad says. He’s only cracked the door enough to speak to Hopper, trying to shield Steve and Eddie from view.

“That’d explain it, then,” Hopper says. “The boys invited me over for some breakfast before we go on our weekend fishing trip.” He raises his voice, “Pancakes or waffles this morning, boys?”

“Pancakes,” Steve calls.

“Fishing trip,” Robert Harrington says.

“A-yup,” Hopper says, hooking one thumb in his belt. “Steve said he was interested in learning and obviously Eddie volunteered to join.”

“Obviously,” Robert Harrington says.

“Joined at the hip, those two,” Hopper continues. “Nice to see.”

“Is it.”

“Anyhow, are they about ready?”

“We need to finish packing a few things up,” Steve calls. “You want to come in and help? I don’t know what pants would be best.”

Hopper steps forward and Steve’s dad grudgingly opens the door enough to admit him.

“Good grief,” Hop says, taking in Steve’s appearance. “I should have known you wouldn’t be ready on time.” He casts a critical eye over Eddie. “At least you’re dressed. Come on, you two, let's go. We’re burning daylight.”

***

Twenty minutes later, they pull up in front of the trailer and Hopper parks his truck with two suitcases of Steve’s stuff in the bed next to Steve’s beemer.

Before Eddie can get out of the car, before Hopper can even get the tailgate down on the truck, Steve is hugging Hopper with nearly the same desperation that he hugged Robin in the hallway all those months before.

He’d been so calm at his house, methodical as he packed his bags, reserved but steady as he drove them back to the park.

But now he’s got his arms wrapped around Hopper, hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, head ducked, just enough, so Hopper can tuck Steve under his chin and hold him back. Now, he’s––he looks like a kid whose parents just confirmed their love had limits.

And Eddie aches for him.

He can’t help but think about Wayne’s careful, leading, assertions. His stories about his gay friend in Indy. His belief that people ought to live and let live. His enjoyment of queer musical artists and his constant, constant reminders that he would love Eddie no matter what. That his love was not transactional or conditional and that even if Eddie said he didn’t want it, he’d always have it. No matter what.

Eddie wishes, so much, that Steve had a Wayne.

Then again, he thinks, watching Hopper’s mouth move against Steve’s year, watching him holding Steve back just as tight, if Wayne has taught Eddie anything it’s that you get to choose your family, if you want. You’re not stuck with the ones you’re given.

Wayne comes out the door, looking confused, and Steve wrenches himself away, busies himself with pulling out his bags while dragging the back of his arm across his eyes.

Hopper steps up to the porch and has barely said a dozen words to Wayne before Wayne stopping across the yard and pulling Steve into a hug too and––

Oh.

Eddie is going to need a moment.

“Hop,” Wayne says over Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you. For bringing my boys back safe and sound.”

Eddie is not going to cry. He’s not.

He might. Just a little.

“Sure,” Hopper says. “You let me know if they cause any trouble.”

For once, Eddie is pretty sure the “they” Hop is referring to is not, in fact, Steve and Eddie.

“Will do. You want to stay for breakfast?”

“We brought the pancakes with us,” Steve says wetly.

“I might stay for some pancakes,” Hopper muses. “What kind?”

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Blueberry. But fair warning, about half of them are dick-shaped.”

Hopper squints at him. “What other shape options are there?”

“Hearts and stars.”

“I’ll take stars,” he says.

“Hearts,” Wayne says.

“Done,” Eddie agrees.

He and Hopper each grab one of Steve’s bags from the truck and Wayne pulls away from Steve only so he can open the door. He keeps a hand on the back of Steve’s neck as he leads them inside and Eddie follows with so much love in his chest that he feels buoyant.

“We’ll take care of it, kid,” Hopper murmurs behind him. “It’ll be okay.”

And Eddie believes him.

***

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@perfectlysensiblenonsense @stxrcrossed186 @mushie8123 @starlight-archer @estrellami-1 @snowstar2368 @superfanne @starlight-archer @child-of-cthulhu @djohawke @zerokrox-blog @alwayscertainwasteland @brie-luna @sharingisntkaren @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @deadfromtheneckdown @y4r3luv @manda-panda-monium @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlprocastinator100

#steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #myfic #stranger things fic

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burner002 · 2 years ago

Text

★ only you

i lied i went and rewrote another oneshot instead of doing my ocs teehee

wc: 2.4k words

contains: unspecified godly parent and mutual subtle pining

"I swear to the gods, Stoll, if you do that one more time, I'm going to drown you."

"Yeah?" Connor mocked, cocking his head to the side and grinning like he was about to push you underwater again. Both of you tread the seawater, chins just touching the cool surface. "And what are you going to do if I splash black dye on all your clothes?"

"I'm gonna change my style, move to the Hades cabin, and stay there," You replied stubbornly. "I can learn to get along with Nico and Hazel, anyway." You glanced toward the shallower part of the beach, where Percy was trying to get the di Angelo to learn how to swim. He was clinging to him and Jason like a scared cat, pale shaky limbs glistening in the sunlight.

"Have you forgotten that Hazel is Roman? Better get used to Will's sweet-talking!" Connor splashed water in your face, getting it up your nose.

"Shit—stop!" You coughed and swam closer to him, despite strands of hair uncomfortably sticking to your forehead and a dull ache in your nose. "Does he really talk like…like that around Nico?"

"No, but he stares a lot. Like he has a really obvious stare and stops doing everything just to stare." Connor glanced at Will, sitting ankle-deep at the shore, waves lapping at his shins. "Who knows, he might be imagining them swapping spit with each other—"

You hissed and clapped a hand over his mouth. He pushed your hand away and laughed. "He's so far. He can't hear us. RIGHT, WILL?"

The blond looked up and squinted in your direction. "Huh?" His voice was barely audible over the sloshing of the waves.

You shot Connor a glare. Then you felt a leg hook around yours. Before you could retort you were pulled beneath the surface again. You grabbed his shoulder and hauled yourself back up out of the water, grumbling and wiping the saltwater from your eyes.

"Fuck. You." You started to swim towards the shore, wading through the water.

"Hey, come back! I haven't had enough fun with you. Can we at least race?"

You called him over and waved your hand, getting an idea. You stopped after a few feet, looking down at the sea floor as your shirt billowed with the movement of the waves. Connor caught up to you. "What is it?"

"I think there's a watch there."

"A watch?"

"Yeah, there."

"I can't see it."

"Yeah, because you have to look closely, dumbass."

"There?"

"Yes, there."

"Is it a Rolex?"

"I don't know." You hoped he couldn't hear the smile in your voice. Then, while he had his head bent over the surface, trying to see what you were pointing at, you took the chance and shoved his head down, creating splashes as you did.

You laughed with satisfaction at getting him back as he coughed and spluttered. While he caught his bearings, you tried to continue swimming. But when Percy asked you a question, you stood still, letting your guard down. This gave Connor an opportunity to sneak up behind you and push you back down under the water by your shoulders, which of course, he did.

"Y/N, Connor's taking forever in the showers." Travis plopped down on the biggest hammock, the one you had taken the liberty of occupying. He threw you off balance and almost made you drop the pretty rock you had found.

Leo Valdez was splayed on another hammock with Piper McLean, making something with twigs and a soda can. "You think he drowned?"

Travis settled down and caused you to drop your rock. "He's not. He answered me when I called him."

You shook your head at the thought of your crush in the shower and frowned. "Why are you asking me about this?" Crush? Yes. Exactly. You found it a bit funny that you developed feelings for Connor, out of all people in camp, but once you looked past the rocks in your pillows and vinegar in your pancake syrup, he wasn't too bad. Then again, you had to endure the water up your nose to be around him as well.

You stuck your arm through the hammock and picked your rock off the soil. "We don't even have bathtubs at camp."

"You never know."

"What the Hades is that supposed to mean?"

For the next hour or two, your mind alternated between wandering off or going blank (and maybe Connor with wet hair). The others who went swimming joined you as well, either climbing the trees to talk with their friends more or laying on the hammocks. Others went back to their cabins. You lay there, soaking up the sun and feeling too lazy to even adjust yourself. You turned the rock over and over in your hand.

Clovis from the Hypnos cabin yawned. "It would be nice to take a nap. I'm tired..." His head drooped down and he snored.

At that, you felt more tempted to nap more than ever, but your doziness was interrupted by a shout.

"Guys!" Connor called. He ran towards your area at full speed. He could've stopped, but he tripped over a tree root. He straightened up, grinning and pushing curls out of his eyes.

You bit back a smirk, not sure if out of pettiness or endearment. "Did you find a serpent in the drain? Is that why it took you three hours?"

"No. Well, kind of. I was, um, I was taking a shower, obviously, and there was a worm. Anyway, we have a new camper! I couldn't find you guys," He pouted.

"Really? Who?" Travis asked. "Where from?"

"Uhm, California."

"Everyone's from California," Someone up in a nearby tree scoffed.

"She's a legacy from Camp Jupiter! Her parents are Greek, children of Nemesis and Demeter! And they actually got to survive past 25, with a house and all. Do you know how cool that is?!" Connor rambled.

Murmurs erupted. Very few adults were seen around Camp Half-Blood. It was even more rare to even hear of them living long enough to have children. You started wondering what it would be like to be a child of two demigods.

Connor jumped, is if an electric shock went through him. "Oh yeah, I forgot. Austen!"

Will had a half-brother named Austin. You looked at him with raised eyebrows and he shrugged, equally as clueless as you.

Connor disappeared again, but came back pulling a girl's hand along. She had shoulder length blonde hair and freckles sprinkled over her nose bridge, her face had strong features and she was dressed in a blouse with a cartoon character on it and jean shorts.

Leo snickered. "Imagine if this one's named Austen River."

You were too busy thinking about how Connor was acting with her. Or maybe you were a little weird for thinking he might have held her hand for a little too long, who knows?

He glanced shyly at her. "So...you're staying in the Hermes cabin for now, right?" He chuckled. "Sorry. We're sorted by godly parent here. Not sure where you're going to be put."

"Actually," Austen tucked a strand of hair behind her ear— "I was told I'll be staying in the Nemesis cabin." Connor's eager smile faded a little.

You spoke up, trying to ignore that last bit. "What's it like in New Rome?" You hoped your voice didn't sound as stiff as you felt.

Whatever she said about New Rome or Camp Jupiter or California or her demigod parents went into one of your ears and left through the other. Instead you had paid attention to how Connor would glance at her or how he laughed whenever she'd slip in a joke or two. He put his hands in his pockets and hooked his thumbs around the belt loops, which made you frown a bit. That was a nervous habit of his.

You felt a bit guilty for being so jealous. Did you often feel like this? Was it normal?

Sometime later, one of the people in our group jumped and yelped that it was almost time for Capture the Flag.

Austen looked down, mumbling something about how she had heard of it but never played or heard of how exactly to play it. Connor perked up, and offered to teach her, even to show her some tricks and spots.

That's alright. Like you gave a shit. Besides, that didn't hurt much. It only stung like a Hellhound's bite. In the ass. Through a tight pair of crispy scratchy jeans.

As if your day hadn't already turned sour enough, you had turned up with a sunburn from earlier at the beach.

You also would have said some more colorful insults and statements, but you felt like keeping it to yourself today. It was because you had seen Connor laughing with Austen with an arm over her shoulders. Your conscience told you that you shouldn't assume, but you snapped back at it, saying it was different when you had a crush. Besides, you knew Connor, and that boy was never that clingy on the first day of meeting someone. He never put his arm around people much, either.

The Fates must have felt particularly mischievous that day, too, because Connor and you had ended up on the same damn team in Capture the Flag. That might have sounded good, but what if he let Austen's team win?

You were left with him on the defensive, guarding the flag and standing on either side of the pole, facing away from each other.

"What do you think of Austen?" He asked.

You rolled your eyes while he couldn't see your face. Wow. No hi, hello, do you have any strategies in mind or anything. Just straight to Austen. Alright. "She's fine."

"Uh huh. Well, do—"

"Do you like her?" You blurted out. When you realized you said it out loud, you decided, fuck it, and faced him. He turned to you as well, looking surprised from what you could see of his face under his helmet.

"What?"

You looked down, mumbling so you wouldn't seem too upset. "Dude, you had an arm around her earlier. And...I saw you staring at her."

"Does that mean you always look at me as well?"

You immediately scowled, digging the sole of your shoe into the forest ground. "Shut up!" When he wouldn't look away from you, you frowned even deeper. That made a victorious smile start to bloom on his face.

He crossed his arms. "What's the matter? Jealous?"

For a moment, your breath caught in your throat. Luckily for you, your mind reacted quickly. "I mean, if you like Austen so much I can go with your buddy Isaac. He has been dropping a lot of hints lately. Then you'll know I'm not jealous, right?"

"Isaac? Dropping hints? Wow. You really think he'd treat you better than I would?"

"What?"

You gripped your weapon, feeling your palms get sweaty. Your eyes widened. "You tell me!"

Connor raised his hands in surrender. "Um...You first! Why are you being weird?"

"Why are you so clingy with Austen all of a sudden? Do you like her? It's been, like, 2 hours since she came here, Connor."

Connor took off his helmet. "I don't like her! Chiron told me to give her a tour! I was on my way here when she arrived." He laughed. What was so funny about this? This boy had a strange sense of humor.

"Then what about you going to the Big House with her?"

"Y/N, I twisted my ankle." He glanced down, and you followed his gaze to see some compression gauze around his left ankle peeking out from the collar lining of his dirty shoe. "And besides, I've only liked one person for...um, a long time."

Your expression softened. "Who?"

He took a deep breath, then pressed so hard on the hilt of his sword hanging at his hip, that his hand slipped. He put his thumbs through his pants' belt loops. "Um...please don't get mad..."

Why would you be mad? "It's you, Y/N. Only you. For a year or two." He laughed nervously. "Or more."

"Me?" You asked incredulously, jaw dropping. You felt a shock run through you, not believing what you just heard.

"No, the nymph over there."

A tall, slim girl with braided hair and skin tinted green appeared beside you, scowling. You nearly jumped out of your skin at that. "Don't drag me into your lovers' quarrel!" Then she disappeared into green mist.

You looked back at Connor. "You're serious?"

"No, I'm Connor."

"Connor, please."

"Yes! Yes, of course, you! It's been so damn long, Y/N! I've been scared that you wouldn't like me back, you know, but since you asked, I can't not say it, okay? I haven't crushed on anyone else in years, because of how your eyes look when you talk about something you like, or your smile, or the way you speak, and how clingy you can get without knowing it when you're tired because you want someone to lean on. You're the only one who's on my mind, all the time. Only you." He cleared his throat, then inhaled through his teeth. He looked just as flustered as I felt.

"Oh. Me...me too." You mustered the courage to respond. Your head almost spun from the information, but at the same time your heart was going to break out of your ribcage from joy. "Me too, I-I like you a lot, I like you so much, Con, you keep me awake at night, too."

He sighed, relieved at your response. He then approached you, helmet under his arm. You reached out to take his hand, face breaking out into a grin, but then your thoughts interrupted you two once again, via your mouth. "Hey, Con."

"Yes?" You almost squealed in giddiness with the heart-eyed look he was giving you at that moment.

"What if Austen likes you?"

"Oh, no, I'm gay," Said a third voice. You spun around to see Austen, still in her cartoon design shirt and shorts, a bow slung over her shoulder and a knife in her hand. "...That's okay, right?" She asked.

"Oh, yeah, totally." Connor shrugged.

Austen relaxed. "Okay." Then she tried darting past you two, but you jumped into position, blocking her way.

You realized a second too late that your efforts were directed at a decoy. "Thank you!" Someone shouted. Annabeth Chase stood at your base, holding your flag, grinning proudly.

#— suguwuu's posts #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #pjo #pjo oneshots #pjo x reader #in the og oneshot austen had an adventure time shirt so that shouldve said enough #lets go lesbians!!

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