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seokgyuu · 4 months

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You might have a thing for Seokmin’s hands. Seokmin, your best friend. Who you definitely do not see as anything else! Really. Not at all! And he obviously doesn’t see you as anything else either. Like, for real! … Right?

Pairing: Seokmin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Best friends to lovers, Smut (MDNI!).

Requested: yes, thanks sweet anon!!

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Going through my requests right now and this one stuck out because I too love Seokmin’s hands. I mean… look at them!! Thanks for the request lovely anon and sorry that it took literal months for me to finish this (yikes).

tagging: @wongyuseokie, @the-boy-meets-evil, @multi-kpop-fanfics, @onlyseokmins, @dkakapizzaboy, @honeykyeom, @drunk-on-dk, @cheolism, @wooahaeproductions <3 just because i want to, hihi.

Smut Warnings under the cut!

Smut Warnings: masturbation (f), finger sucking, fingering, dirty talk

In your many years on this planet most of these have been spent being best friends with Lee Seokmin.

At this point you probably knew him better than he knew himself and vice versa. There was nothing the two of you didn’t share, sometimes being mistaken for a couple when in reality all you feel for each other is nothing but platonic admiration. You love each other, but platonically! You sleep in each other's arms most nights, but platonically! Sometimes you wish he would hold you a little tighter and sometimes he wishes he could touch you in places he shouldn’t, but it is all, of course, platonically!

In fact, your relationship is so platonic that you are currently holding your beloved vibrator to your throbbing clit staring at a picture of his hands. His beautiful hands, his long fingers graced by rings you had gifted him because, fuck, did you love seeing him with jewellery you had given him. Especially rings.

The high you’re craving as much as you feel guilty is nearing and you arch your back, hips chasing the feeling of the vibrations on your bundle of nerves - and when the thought of Seokmin above you with his fingers fucking you open, rings on and all, occupies your mind once more, not leaving any space for a guilty conscience, you finally come undone. You sigh his name over and over, riding out your orgasm and once your vibrator is off and your panties are back in place, you slowly start to realize what you’ve just done. Again. How many times have you told yourself you wouldn’t do this again? How many times have you sworn that Seokmin was your best friend and nothing else?

Best friends don’t think about the other when they get off. Best friends don’t crave the other’s touch when they aren’t around. Best friends don’t want to get finger-fucked by the other!

Maybe, you think, you aren’t Seokmin’s best friend after all because all of these points apply to you. With a groan you lock your phone and swing your legs off the bed, still feeling a bit dizzy from your orgasm. Just when you are about to head to the bathroom, you hear knocks on your front door.

Frowning, you look at the clock hanging on the wall across from you. It’s one o’clock in the morning, who would ever- another knock. More vehemently this time. You blink a few times, not even registering that you’re wearing nothing but one of Seokmin’s shirts and your panties when you open the door.

Glossy brown eyes look at you, reddened cheeks and lips on the face you think about more than you should.

“Seokmin?!”

“You’re- you’re wearing my shirt.”

He is inside your apartment with the door closed behind you in mere seconds. His hands somehow landed on your waist and you are now stuck between him and the cold wall, your eyes big and round looking up at him.

“What are you doing here, what- what’s going on?”

“I kissed someone,” he breathes and you hate that the words make your heart drop, “I kissed this girl when I was at a club with Mingyu and- fuck, I kissed her and I somehow realized that I don’t want to kiss her.”

“Okay, that’s okay, Seok. You stopped kissing her then, right?”

When he shakes his head, you feel another pang of pain inside your chest.

“I kissed her some more, she asked me to go home with her and I was already on my way out, ready to get into the cab and let her take me to her place, but…”

The way he looks at you, the way his fingers dig into your skin. He doesn’t say it, and you don’t want to ask.

“You’re drunk.” You somehow stumble out, freeing yourself from his grasp and instead walking over to the kitchen, to get your best friend some water.

“I didn’t even drink that much.” You hear the pout before you see it, turning around to face him, your eyes settling on his body leaning against the doorframe.

“You should still drink some water, Seok, alright?”

He doesn’t try to stop you when you hand him the glass and he even takes two big sips before putting it down.

“Why didn’t you call before you came here?” You ask then, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Phone’s dead.” He explains and you sigh, pulling a hand over your face.

“So, you didn’t tell Soonyoung you’re not coming home tonight?”

“I-,” Seokmin starts but then realizes he, in fact, hadn't told his roommate he was going to be gone for the night.

“Lee Seokmin,” you shake your head at him, “get my phone from my room and text him, I bet he’s dying of worry right now. You know how he is.”

As much as Seokmin wishes it wasn’t true - it is. Soonyoung his (other) best friend and roommate is overbearing as much as he is kind. Pouting once more, he turns around to walk into your bedroom, seeing your phone laying on top of your bed. For a split second he feels guilty - had he woken you up? Gnawing on his bottom lip, he rids himself of his coat and hangs it over your desk chair, also taking off his shoes in the process and putting them next to yours by the closet, before finally grabbing your phone and unlocking it with the code he just so happens to know.

He stops in his steps. Stares at the screen. Then, he blinks a few times and feels his body react right away. Electricity shoots through him and explanations as of why he is seeing what he’s seeing, explanations that have his stomach flip and his heart triple in speed, that have his imagination go wilder than he’d usually allow himself around you.

“Y/N.”

“Did you not find it?” You call back from the kitchen, getting out a pot to make some late night ramen, only to turn around and look at him and feel your face fall. He is holding your phone up for you to see the screen, his zoomed in hands still on your display. Fuck.

Coming up with an explanation as of why the fuck his hands are on your screen at almost 2 o’clock in the morning leaves your brain blank. There is only so much you can say that isn’t totally weird - and even then, it still is.

But something about the way Seokmin is looking at you isn’t even allowing you to open your mouth and stutter out a lame excuse.

“I want you to be honest with me,” he begins calmly, slowly walking over to you now, “why are my hands zoomed in on your phone screen in the middle of the night, darling?”

The pet name bolts through you and leaves your brain even more blank. Suddenly, you don’t know how to speak, how to think. Yet, Seokmin seems to know that he caught you in something he didn’t even know it was possible to find you in.

“Y/N, be honest,” he repeats when he is back in front of you, when you’re caged in between him and the kitchen counter, when all that’s between you is the little space he has left, “do you have a thing for my hands?”

Shit. He’s so close now, your phone discarded on the counter next to you and you still don’t remember how to speak. It’s stupid, you know it is, he’s probably just teasing you, just trying to get a reaction out of you before he laughs it off.

Just that he doesn’t.

Seokmin doesn’t move, instead he comes closer, one of his insanely pretty hands softly grabbing your chin, turning your head to make you look straight up at him. God, his eyes are sparkling. Everything about him seems to be sparkling.

“Answer me, love.”

You wish you could, really. But your mouth is dry and your body is burning and all you can focus on is the hand on your face. So, instead of verbally answering you, very slowly, nod. The smug smile that spreads on Seokmin’s face is something no one could have prepared you for.

“Interesting. Let’s see.” He moves his hand up just slightly, thumb brushing against your lips and you can’t help but drop open your mouth, sucking it right into your wet heat. The moan that escapes him catches both of you by surprise and has you pressing your thighs together. Seokmin doesn’t speak, he just looks at you, letting you suck in his thumb with wide eyes that have his cock twitching wildly in his pants.

He begins thrusting his thumb into your mouth, saliva building up and beginning to trickle down out of the corners of your lips, his eyes glued on your face. When you begin to swirl your tongue around him, he breathes out a strained sigh, quickly replacing his thumb with is middle and index finger.

Now it’s you who’s moaning. How many nights had you stayed awake with your fingers inside your cunt, with your vibrator against your clit, with you humping your pillow, imagining exactly this. Sucking on his finger’s as he fucked you senseless with either his other hand or his cock.

“Fuck, baby, you really do have a thing for my hands,” he mutters, perhaps even more to himself than you and he instructs you to suck on them, his free hand sneaking around you, pressing you against him flat on your ass.

Nothing has ever been as much of a turn on as this. Seokmin’s fingers in your mouth, his other hand squeezing your ass as he is very obviously rubbing himself against you, his erection visible through his pants and hard to miss against your lower stomach. He doesn’t speak for a while, just enjoying the feeling of having all the power over you, something he had never thought possible, bathing in the knowledge you want him just as much as he wants you.

When he deems it enough, he pulls his fingers out, thick saliva connecting them to your red lips and he groans at the sight, quickly bringing the fingers down and straight to where you need them the most. He doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease, instead he slips his hand into your folds and feels them, coating the two fingers he just pulled out of your mouth in your juices, reveling in your small noises.

“Want them inside of you, don’t you, baby girl? Want me to fuck you with them?”

It’s merely a whisper coming out of his mouth and you whimper, nodding your head yes once more, Seokmin chuckling as he leans forward, his breath hitting your face.

“Need you to use your words, okay?” He says, lips touching your cheek and you swallow hard, hips bucking to meet his fingers.

“I-,” you stutter, “I, f-fuck, Seokmin, please-,”

“Please what, darling?”

“Pl-please p-put them i-inside,” you cry out, your hands gripping the material of his shirt, eyes begging him to do as you asked.

“God, you’re so desperate, might just make me cum in my pants. Gonna fuck your pretty pussy with my hands while you’re wearing my shirt, fuck,” his voice is breathy against your ear and you’re just about to beg him again, when he finally does what you’ve been dreaming about for years.

The second he breaches your hole, you already feel like the gates of heaven just opened up for you. His fingers are like the drug you knew you’d get addicted to once you’ve got a taste of them and the second they are fully inside you, you fear nothing will ever come close again. Your body reacts by shaking uncontrollably, your pussy sucking him in as far as possible, Seokmin’s moans in your ear the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard. As his fingers begin to thrust inside of you, his lips begin to kiss your neck, up to your cheek and finally your lips, both of you sighing in relief when you finally take one step further. Because somehow this is more intimate than his fingers fucking you.

This could have easily been mistaken as a tipsy Seokmin helping his best friend blowing off steam by finally giving into her desire for him, but the second he kisses you both of you know this is going to be so much more.

Your arms move to wrap around his neck as you spread your legs further for him, giving him better access and more room to move his hand as he continues his thrusts, your whimpers against his lips skilfully getting caught by his tongue.

“So fucking wet and tight, such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” He mumbles against your mouth and you nod, pulling him closer, lips back on his to begin yet another heated kiss. The two of you make out, one of your legs around his waist as he picks up his speed, thumb finding your clit no problem, causing you to arch your back and pant into the kiss.

“Seok- so- so close!” You cry out and he chuckles again, kissing down your neck, sucking harshly on your skin as he pulls his fingers out only to come back with one more.

Three fingers fuck you open for more, your moans getting louder, fingers digging into his nape as you chase his fingers with your hips, tears behind your eyes threatening to spill because of how fucking turned on you were. You’re dripping down his fingers, down your thighs, your panties shoved to the side by him, probably cutting into his fingers, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Yeah? Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Cum on my fingers? How long have you wanted this, hm? How long have you dreamt of my fingers fucking you until you make them drip in your cum?”

His dirty words are so out of character for your usually so bright and sweet best friend, but they do their job perfectly. Accompanying your whines is your pussy clenching around him repeatedly, throbbing against his fingers and Seokmin really thinks he could shoot his load just from this.

“Faster, pl-please!” Your hips are moving at rapid speed and Seokmin meets your efforts, thumb pressing down on your clit and letting his fingers quickly pump in and out of your perfect pussy, already feeling your nearing climax around him.

When he kisses you again, his tongue finding yours, circling it skilfully and sucking it into his mouth, you feel your orgasm rush over you, cum soaking his whole hand as he fucks you through it, your moans landing right in his hot mouth.

“That’s it, darling, cum on my fingers, soak them in your cum, show me how good I made you feel, fuck.”

Tears are rolling down your cheeks, tears of pleasure and happiness, tears of desperation as you ride out your orgasm, almost crying more when he pulls his fingers out of you to lick them clean like a starved man. Your head spins at the visual and you let yourself fall against the counter, sure you could probably count the stars floating around your head currently.

“Delicious, so pretty and delicious.” Seokmin hums when his fingers are out of his mouth and he smiles at you like the soft puppy you know he is.

“Seokmin…,” you don’t even know what to say, still in awe and still recovering from the best orgasm you’ve ever had. He shushes you, both of his hands on your waist, pulling you into his chest.

“Later, love. Now, I need you to ride my cock, how does that sound?”

Smiling at him you think that nothing had ever sounded sweeter.

1K notes · View notes

seunmong-in · 1 month

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🌅Sunsets in Sydney🌅

Genre: Fluff, childhood best friend to lovers, Idol! Felix x Reader, Humor, slight cursing, she fell first but he fell harder.

Words: 2.1k

Summary: After being on tour for a whole year, Felix is finally back in Sydney for a well-deserved break. While he is ecstatic to be with his family again, there’s one person who he wants to see most. His childhood best friend and crush, Y/N.

A/n: Okay, can I start this off by saying, Holy crap… Thank you to all who like or reblogged my first fanfic with Han!! ( click his name if you wanna read it ! ) I honestly thought it wasn’t that good since I wrote it in a very sleep-deprived state, lol. But y’all proved me wrong🥹❤️‍🩹 That said, I hope you guys also like this story with Felix! Like always, if you have any feedback or want to make a special request just DM me!! Here’s also my latest one with Seungmin as well 🫶🏼

P.S Does anyone else have “that’s not very nice” stuck in their head too?

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

365 days.

That's how long Felix has been away from the place he calls home. And no, he doesn't mean his actual home back in Sydney. He means being away from his childhood best friend, Y/n.

Felix and Y/n have been best friends since grade school. They have always been there for each other, from performing in talent shows to caring for each other when one falls ill. They are like two peas in a pod; wherever one goes, the other is sure to follow.

On the day Felix had to tell Y/n that he was leaving Sydney to become an idol in Korea, he broke down crying. He was worried that being thousands of miles away from his closest friend would strain their relationship. As he was about to board the plane, he turned around to see Y/n waving goodbye to him with tears streaming down her face, and he couldn't help but cry, too.

Surprisingly, Felix and Y/n's friendship didn't end after that day. Instead, their bond grew even stronger. Y/N would constantly update Felix through text or calls, sharing the details of her day and making sure he didn't miss out on anything important. While Felix enjoyed receiving these updates, what he loved most was the pictures his mom would send him of Y/n with his family on small family trips. Seeing her smile and taking selfies with his sisters always warmed his heart.

He had already surpassed the stage of simply developing feelings for Y/n. Felix adored her. He loved her. Whenever he watched a video of a couple on TikTok or Instagram, he imagined how to recreate the same videos with Y/n by his side. His heart skipped when Y/n surprised him at one of his earlier concerts with Olivia and Hannah, Chan's sister. The memory of her dancing his part of God's Menu while Hannah danced Chan's part on the big screen was something he would never forget. Since that night, Felix had been planning to confess his love to Y/n, and he decided to do it under the sunset in Sydney.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽

Under the hot summer sun, Felix's freckled face is lit up with a big smile as his family rushes to greet him. Olivia is the first to embrace him, screaming, "Oh my God, do you even know how I miss you, Lix?!"

Felix laughed, embracing his youngest sister and repeating, "I miss you more." He noticed that Olivia had grown a bit since the last time he saw her and that her hair was now dyed at the ends. Noticing her brother staring at her hair, Olivia mentioned that Y/N did it a few days ago at one of their usual girls' nights. His mom and dad were the next two to hug him tightly, with his mom shedding a few happy tears.

"I say this every time, but I am so happy to have my baby back home."

Felix wraps his arms around his mom, hugging her as he says, "I am happy to be back home to Mom."

Felix was sitting in the back of a car, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Y/n. He was waiting for her message, asking if he had reached home safely, but he had yet to receive any message from her. Although this was unusual, he assumed she might be busy.

Suddenly, Olivia abruptly interrupts Felix's train of thought, "So, are you finally going to ask Y/n to be your girlfriend while you're here, or are we still sticking to the whole 'she's just my best friend' excuse?" The unexpected question catches Felix off guard. His face turns red with embarrassment as his mother turns her head around from the passenger seat, waiting for a response.

Avoiding eye contact with his mother and sister, Felix clears his throat, allowing himself to find the right words.

"Um.. what makes you think I even have feelings for her?"

Olivia stares at her older brother, scolding him with his earlier response, "Felix be so fucking for real right now. It's obvious you have feelings for Y/n. You look at her as if she is your whole world, your face lights up with a smile whenever she texts you, and you always seem to find a way to talk about her when we talk on the phone. If that doesn't scream, "I am in love with my best friend," then I don't know what does. Oh, and before you go and argue with me about this, even the boys agree that you are completely strung up on her. So do us all a favor and tell her how you feel, will you?"

Felix sighs as he looks up to see his sister's gaze. He knew he had to come clean now before his plans got ruined.

"Have I mentioned how much I dislike you sometimes, Liv?"

"Yeah, but I'm your favorite sister, so start spilling before I call Hyunjin and have him tell Y/n to you."

During the last five minutes of their car ride, Felix confided in his family about his plan to ask Y/n out when they reached the house. He made them promise not to say anything to Y/n about his plan since he wanted to create a memorable and private moment between them.

As Felix's father pulled into the driveway, Felix noticed Y/n's car parked across the street. His heart raced as he jumped out of the car, ignoring his mother's yelling about not going inside yet.

Felix barges through the main door and stops when he sees the handmade "Welcome Home Lixie" banner that Y/n was struggling to put up. He chuckles softly and leans by the living room doorway, watching as she gets on her tiptoes to hook the string onto the nail.

"You know, I could've helped you put up the banner, sunshine if you would've waited a little longer."

Y/n turns around to find Felix smirking. Blushing, she runs to him and hugs him. He hugs her back, lifting her up and spinning her around.

Trying not to cry on his shoulders, Y/n ever so softly whispers, "You have no idea how much I missed your hugs, Lix."

"Me too, sunshine, it's been way too long."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

After returning home and having dinner early, Felix went upstairs to his room. There, he discovered a welcome-home basket in the center of his bed. The basket contained his favorite candies, face masks, a small chicken plushie, and gift cards to his preferred places. Felix smiled, realizing that it was a gift from Y/n. She was always the type to spoil others with gifts, even if it was a small occasion. Looking through the gifts in the basket, he heard a soft knock on the door, and Y/n walked in. When Felix looked up at her, they locked eyes for the second time that day. Time seemed to come to a standstill, and after a while, Y/n was the first to break the silence.

"I hope you like it; I saw it on Tiktok late last night and thought I should make you one."

"I love it a lot; thank you, sunshine."

He gives her a soft smile and motions for her to sit with him on the bed. She walks over and sits beside him, watching him unwrap more gifts. Y/n can't help but laugh as Felix brings the chicken plushie up to his face, jokingly asking, "Do you think it looks like me?"

"As much as I want to say yes, I feel like I am going betray BbokAri, so I must lie and say no."

Felix and Y/n laugh as Felix places the plushie back on the shelf behind him. The room lights up in a golden hue, indicating the sun is about to set. Without wasting more time, Felix takes Y/n's hand and leads her out of his room and towards his car.

"Lix, what are you doing? Where are we going?"

"I was hoping we could watch the sunset together again, just like we did as kids. It's been quite some time since the last time we did, and let's face it, we're not getting any younger. Before we know it, we'll be as old as old man Chan."

""I'm going to tell him you said that," she says, laughing as she follows him to his car. They both jump in and drive to the nearby beach.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

As the car pulled onto the sandy shore, Felix practically flew out of his side to open the door for Y/n. She beamed with delight as she stepped out, feeling the warm sand under her toes. Felix swiftly closed the car door and took her hand, leading her towards the beach. The sky was ablaze with a breathtaking display of pink and orange hues as the sun descended below the horizon.

"I forgot how pretty the sunset could be when you can see the reflection on the water."

"I know, but it's even prettier with you beside me," Felix responds.

Y/n stands before Felix, unsure if he is joking or serious. He chuckles as she becomes flustered.

"You know that's not very nice."

"What isn't sunshine?"

"You saying that to me and not explaining what you mean," Y/n states as she turns away from him.

Felix grabs Y/n by her waist and spins her, holding her close. Y/n's face flushes a deep shade of pink as she catches her breath. They've been close for years, but something feels different about this moment. There's a palpable tension in the air, a feeling of unspoken love that's hard to ignore. Felix looks deep into Y/n's eyes, examining how the sun's warm glow illuminates them. The sound of waves crashing against the shore adds to the moment's magic. Fighting the urge to kiss her immediately, Felix takes a deep breath as he stares into her eyes.

"Do you remember why I decided to return home for a break instead of staying in the dorms with the boys?" Puzzled by his random question, Y/n nods her head, looking back into his dark brown eyes.

"Of course I do. It was because you wanted to be with your family since you were homesick, Lix."

"You're right. But there's something important that I need to tell you, something that should've been said from the very beginning. Y/n, I like you. I'm in love with you. I love you so much that it hurts not to have you by my side most days or even to call you mine. The night before I left Sydney, I intended to confess my feelings to you, but I knew it was bad timing since I was leaving, and I didn't want to end our friendship. So, I kept it to myself for years. However, seeing you with Liv and Hannah at our concert earlier this year, dancing and singing to our songs, made me realize that what I felt for you was more than just a simple grade school crush. Y/n, I'd be lying if I said you weren't the person I want to spend the rest of my life with because I do. I want you to be mine, my only sunshine. And if you don't feel the same way, I understand..."

Felix was toward the end of his sentence when Y/n suddenly cut him off by pressing her lips against his. It was a bold move, but she had been crushing on Felix for what felt like an eternity and couldn't hold back any longer. When they finally pulled away, Felix looked at Y/n with a knowing smile, pressing his forehead on hers. In a very soft voice, Felix finally finishes his sentence.

"I cannot imagine spending a single day without you by my side anymore. Will you do me the greatest honor of all and be mine forever?

""Until forever stops existing, my love."

#stray kids #straykids imagines #straykids smau #stray kids fake texts #stray kids x reader #straykids fluff #lee felix #lee yongbok #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz fanfic #skz stay #skz x y/n #skz smau #stray kids imagine

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harleehazbinfics · 2 months

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ermm ermmm ,,,,, , cannibal!reader has like a sad past right (i saw u mention they were abused hence the obsession w approval) ,, well okay what if the hotel residents found out? like ... idk one of reader’s parents shows up at the hotel ... idk , honestly i just really love how you write cannibal reader theyre wildly silly

Crazy for you!

--- cannibal chef m.list

a/n: AWWW THANK YOU SO MUCHHH they/she is indeed very silly, i most of my inspo from myself and other fans of alastor and their reactions lmao. ive been stuck on one fanfic for days i gave up today and words just flowed for cannibal chef reader, i can't--. also plsplspls if you find any of this triggering pls turn back, i want all of you to be in a safe space.

warnings: abusive mother, shaming choice of clothing, weight shaming, typical asian behavior of 'be a doctor or lawyer' but rudeness level maxed out, being called ungrateful, useless etcetc DISCLAIMER: Any scenarios are entirely fictional and have no direct relation to any person and taken from behaviours I see, read or hear from. Thank you. word count: 1292

You, Alastor, Niffty, Husk, Angel and Sir Pentious got together and were enjoying a lazy weekend just lounging around the parlor just enjoying each other's company and talking amongst each other. The lot of them fitting on the couch and the floor. You stood beside Alastor sitting on a chair by himself drinking his coffee indulging himself in a casual conversation.

You all turn your heads when the door opens expecting to see Vaggie and Charlie, preparing to greet them and get them to join you all. However, they stop in themselves from doing so when they see the both of them touring a person in.

Your constant smile drops at the sight of her. You immediately recognize the face and voice making you slowly and quietly hid behind the chair Alastor making yourself small as to not catch their attention. Alastor, of course, notices this action and raises his eyebrow.

"And this is Angel and Sir Pentious our other guest, Niffty our cleaning maid and Husk our bartender. Alastor here is the host of the hotel, he's the who supported all our endeavors!" Charlie states.

"Oh! Isn't that the Radio Demon? Dear it is him! I'm a big fan of yours," your mother mooches at Alastor earning a displeased static sound from him when she abruptly shook his hand without his permission.

"Alastor, where's (y/n)? Aren't they always with you?" Charlie asks making you cringe as you cautiously walk towards them.

"(Y/n)? Is that you?" your mother asks in disbelief before enveloping you in a hug, which made you sick to your stomach. "Oh gosh! It's been years! Look at you! You look so skanky with that clothing. You also look like you've gained weight. I told you not to go to culinary school and be a doctor or lawyer instead. You look so fat now, probably from all that meat you're eating. You should've gone vegan look how your Aunt Karen slimmed down, she's been going around and teaching, crazy bitch. Anyway, take my luggage to my room, I need to talk to everyone here. Good? Great."

You tried to get a word in with dejected eyes but lose your voice when she gives you harsh glare. You sigh and take her bags and answered, "Yes mother."

Without you noticing, all the others went deathly silent as they watch you look so sad. Your almost permanent smile disappeared from your face making them surprised and worried. You always smiled around them, mimicking Alastor's grin that was plastered on your face. Sure, they've seen you drop the smile when you were separated with Alastor before but eventually you opened up to them and was seen constantly socializing and smiling around them making them feel relieved being the youngest of all of them, but they never seen you look so sad before. Coupled with the backhanded comments made by your mother, they couldn't help but feel hostile.

Indeed, you were crazy and a bit of a monster, but you were the sweetest most thoughtful thing that ever happened to them. Any occasion was prepared by you ranging from the Hotel's Anniversary, Birthdays and even as miniscule as just a mission accomplished on their rehabilitation program. This encouraged everyone to do better with how much faith you put in them. (That and your cooking is so out of this world that even Angel would dial his drug intake from a 15 to a 13 for a treat.)

So, when your sweet and genuine smile faded, they glared at the perpetrator that made you react so drastically. However, in respect for Charlie they held their tongue first.

"Sooo, what's your relationship with (y/n)?" Charlie asks trying to be polite despite the tense atmosphere.

"Oh, her? She's my daughter. Ungrateful little wench, I took care of her her whole life and the thanks I get is her running away home. Next thing I know she's in a boarding school for taking culinary classes. Where'd that bitch even get that money, she should've paid everything he owed to us first! Her parents! Say, can you make me a drink Whiskers? Just thinking of that bitch makes my head hurt. Make it snappy," she orders around slumping onto a vacant seat making herself very at home.

"Don't call me Whiskers, only my friends get to call me that. And I ain't taking shit from you," Husker replies turning his back at her.

She gasps dramatically and yells, "You call this hospitality?!"

She stands up trying to reach Husk, Angel stands in between them along with Pentious and Niffty before a black tendril shoots out from the ground wrapping around her.

"This is where I draw the line," Vaggie growls pointing her spear at your mother.

"What? You actually like that girl? Pft, what the fuck's that all about. She's ungrateful and good for nothing. You actually like someone as useless as her?" your mother laughs at the protective group, her eyes widen as she sees Charlie change into her demon form.

Alastor gently pushes her behind him stopping her in her tracks. He says, "I'll handle this. This obviously concerns my closest companion so this will fall into my hands."

Your mother scrutinizes him finding his tone and gesture quite odd then her eyes lighten up in recognition. She laughs at him and yells, "You can't be serious! You like that--"

She gets cut off as the tendril wraps around her mouth and drags you in his shadow, ceasing her muffled screams. As soon as she disappears, you come down finding all of them but your mom.

"Where's my mom?"

"Sheeee changed her mind! Yeah! She told us that she had something to do," Charlie lies between her teeth with an anxious look in her eyes making Vaggie elbow her despite her doing the same.

"Oh, I see," you say still not smiling, "Will she come back? Her things are still here."

"Nah. She ain't comin' back, sweet cheeks. She's got better shit to do apparently and wanted us to drop off her stuff on an address," Angel casually lies beckoning her to sit with them petting your head after.

Husk nudges Pentious making him confused for a while before getting the message, answering, " Y-yes! I will do it right now. Eggbois! Take the woman's things outside the hotel!"

While the little eggs tottered to do their master's bidding your eyes slowly light up but not fully their yet.

"Look kid, we won't prod into your business but know if you ever need someone to talk to, you've got a bartender right here," Husk jokes with a grin holding onto his suspenders in a pose making you slightly giggle.

"Hey, hey you got us too!" Angel, Charlie, Niffty and Pentious (that got back from telling them to throw the old bat's shit into the garbage) joined in earning a smile from Vaggie and Alastor.

After you felt better, you called in for the day and left to your rooms. After escorting Alastor to his room he snags you inside then comes in close before petting your head tenderly.

You look at him surprised, although without your normal heart eyes that you give him, confused at his actions.

He brushes his fingers against your cheek electrifying you and states, "Whenever you get into trouble, tell me. I'll handle it myself, after all you are mine."

Your eyes shape into hearts, legs turning into jelly, heart beating faster and faster by the millisecond, trying to comprehend the weight of his words and engraving them into your brain.

"Understood?" he asks pleased with your reaction.

"Yes, Sir~" you breathed out finding yourself flushed red, breath hot and heavily.

"Good," he smiles devilishly.

(I'll leave the ending as ambiguous 😌)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #cannibal chef reader #harleehazbinfic

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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

Text

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

Text

burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter one

summary: leaving your old life behind, you move to copenhagen to follow your dream of opening a restaurant. almost a year after opening, luca's quest for inspiration brings him right to your doorstep.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2500

a/n: remember when i said we'd get pastry chef luca fanfic whether we liked it or not? well, it seems i can't be normal about anything bc i have an outline of (potentially) 10 chapters right now based on this headcanon. while i try to keep reader characters pretty neutral so that you can picture yourself, i have this reader creating food from her own life experiences/cultures so do what you will with that. also, i tagged some peeps from my headcanon post, but please let me know if you'd like to be removed.

masterlist | part two

He’s in search of inspiration when he finds the restaurant – your restaurant.

It’s an American stagiaire and a single conversation that makes him realize that he’s missing something – that he’s been in need of something fresh, a new perspective– setting him on his quest.

The best things are inspired.

Luca stares at a blank piece of paper for what feels like hours, writing a few things down, sketching up an idea, before viciously crossing them out, hopelessly stuck on new ideas for the new menu. After a few half-baked ideas that go nowhere, It occurs to him that he may be in need of a little inspiration himself. He can’t think of the last time he’s taken his own advice, mulling over the carefully-chosen words of wisdom imparted to Marcus a couple of weeks ago, and he’s determined to change that.

A review in the paper, an old colleague’s recent trip there, and a glowing recommendation from a close friend are what bring him to the restaurant.

He’s not sure what to expect – having forgone any interest in cuisine described with the words trendy or fusion a long time ago – but Luca reminds himself that it’s the writer’s word choice, not the chef’s, when writing the article.

When Luca steps into the small home-turned-restaurant, he’s immediately inundated with a warmth, a homeyness, that takes him by surprise. From the open kitchen, to the golden lighting, it feels vastly different from the classic Danish-style, fine dining establishments that have swept the country.

But Luca reminds himself that the announcement of noma’s 2024 closure, has shifted the conversation around dining culture in Denmark, and already, he can feel that this is the breath of fresh air that he’s been looking for.

Luca’s seated quickly with care and hospitality by a highly-attentive host, which he only assumes is a symptom of the fact that he read somewhere that you’re an American. While Danish, the host is boisterous, as if he’s known Luca since childhood. Luca smiles politely in response, graciously thanking the man and his chocolate brown curls.

The menu is small, indicating that each dish receives enough care to be excellent and he likes that, despite being described as trendy and fusion-focused, your menu is creative. It’s different. It’s inspired.

He chooses the special of the day: the mapo tofu bolognese – a traditionally Italian concept done from an Asian perspective – and the suggested wine pairing.

It doesn’t take long for him to receive his glass of wine, or his food, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how efficient service seems. Stealing glances through the open kitchen, he watches as you and your sous lead dinner service with a kind of compassionate leadership and playfulness that warms him from the inside out.

“We recommend mixing the whipped tofu into the dish for a creamier sauce. Skal,” his waitress greets, with a warm smile on her face as she sets down the bowl of noodles.

“Cheers,” Luca replies, his eyes savoring every single detail of the dish.

It’s somehow elevated, thoughtful, and elegant, yet comforting all at once.

Luca picks up his fork, using it to collect a little bit of everything – a perfect noodle twirl with just enough sauce, and ground pork before running his fork the whipped topping – raising the fork to his lips for his first bite.

As the flavors hit his tongue, he closes his eyes, and it’s as if time has stopped, just for a moment.

The wheat noodles are perfectly al dente while the whipped tofu is almost ricotta-like, transforming into a silky smooth addition to the dish, cutting the tingle and heat of the Sichuan chili peppercorn-based sauce.

The corners of his lips turn up as he takes a breath, opening his eyes as he savors the delicate layers of flavors. With a crooked smile on his face, he decides that he’ll most certainly be back next week.

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

You make peace with the fact that tonight is one of those nights – a slow night – as you finish washing your hands. It being a slow night, you’d encouraged your staff to up the hospitality at the pre-shift meeting. Treating guests with the utmost personal touches in an effort to build genuine connections would be the focus of tonight’s slow service. In fact, you and Mathilde, your sous chef, had been running dishes out this evening – something you rarely had the luxury to do.

“You should go say hello,” your sous encourages, nodding towards the dining room through the expansive window of the open kitchen.

“Thought it was your turn,” you reply in a casual tone, paying no attention to who she’s referencing.

“No, I think you should take this one,” Mathilde nudges you, causing you to look up. You shoot her a funny look, your eyes flickering over the mischievous expression she has on her face, to where she’s gestured towards.

“To-?” you begin to ask, before seeing exactly who she’s talking about.

“Ehm. Tall, blonde, and tatted!” she emphasizes in a whisper yell.

You don’t really need the description as you glance over at the dining room, easily spotting the man seated at a two-seater near the front window.

“You’re right. He’s become a bit of a regular,” you agree with a curt nod that means all business, no pleasure, as you move a few things as you walk and talk around the kitchen, tidying up.

“That’s not what I meant,” she scoffs with a playful eye roll.

“You know, Jesper thought he was Swedish because… look at him… but he’s apparently a Brit,” she gossips with you, her eyes stealing a glance his way. “We’re slow tonight. He’s here every week. Sure he’d appreciate a direct thank you from the chef!”

“I-,” you hesitate, wondering why she’s so damn insistent on this. “... yeah, alright. I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl!” Mathilde cheers, in a sing-song voice, she hands you the beautifully plated bowl of pasta to take out to the dining room.

As you walk over towards his table, you make a note that it seems as if the mystery man has made this a bit of a routine. He shows every Saturday at exactly 7 pm, week after week, for the past month or so, as if it’s a standing date he has with himself. After his first visit, you half-expected him to bring a date when he returned, or bring a group of friends, or for something different to happen.

But it hadn’t and you’ve watched him come in, week after week, with a different book each time. He always orders the special of the day and whatever suggested wine pairing Jesper’s recommended that week.

Most Saturday nights you're busy leading a kitchen or cooking on the line – having little to no time to fixate or wonder curiously over your weekly diner – but tonight’s pace affords you the luxury to spend more time at the front of house. Truthfully, you know it’s the thing that sets you apart. Sure, the hospitality here in Copenhagen is excellent, but you bring an American hospitality-style to this restaurant – and above and beyond mentality – that feels welcoming, personal, even, as if your restaurant itself is just an extension of your home.

You’ve heard your staff – front of house and back of house – whispering about him, all seemingly enamored and enchanted by the charming Brit. All any of you knew about him was that his name was Luca and that he’s always more than kind to your front of house staff.

He doesn’t say much when he comes in, you’ve noticed, but every Saturday at 7 pm, he’s pushing his way through the front door with punctuality and a gentle ease.

The whisperings from your staff had all revolved around who your mysterious regular must be: whether he was Danish or Swedish, that someone that good looking must already have a partner, that he doesn’t wear a ring.

You hadn’t paid much attention to the gossip (or at least that’s what you’ve told yourself) more focused on running dinner service then trying to piece together the story of your handsome, mysterious regular.

“Hello,” you greet him warmly. “I just wanted to come introduce myself and say thank you for becoming one of our regulars. Your support means a lot to all of us.”

“Hi, I’m Luca.”

You share your name with a smile as he shakes your hand.

Luca turns his attention down to the bowl you’ve put in front of him, his eyes taking in the beautiful presentation hungrily.

“Wow, this looks… incredible,” he marvels, returning his gaze back to you.

“Thank you. I’m sure my front of house already walked you through this but if you’d like for me to-,” you begin.

“Yes, that’d be great, thanks,” he interjects, a crooked smile on his face that makes your heart skip a beat.

You have to pull your attention away from him, hoping he doesn’t notice that you’re quite possibly gawking at him.

He’s kind, charming, and he’s easy on the eyes (easy on the eyes, really being an understatement here).

“Today’s special was inspired by a childhood favorite of mine,” you begin, walking him through each component of the dish.

Crispy Rice. Caramelized marinated trumpet mushrooms and charred broccolini. Your mom’s sauce approached with classic French techniques, courtesy of your sous, Mathilde, a classically French-trained chef.

It’s a marriage of your story. Of the people around you. It’s your heart and theirs, put into a dish.

“You’re the chef?” he asks, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yes,” you answer, trying your best to get a read on him.

He balks, and you’re unsure of how you’re supposed to respond. Was he surprised that you’re a woman? That he’s been eating your food the whole time and expected a male chef? Before you can overthink it, Luca clarifies with:

“I’m sorry. It’s just-, I can't think of the last time I saw a head chef work front of house, let alone with this much care.”

Oh.

You let down your guard, wondering why you’d assumed the worst when the man’s been nothing but kind to you and your staff so far.

"We're a little short staffed tonight. And I love getting to talk to diners… especially on nights like this,” you explain, trying your best to sound like you hadn’t just assumed that he was a sexist asshole.

He shakes his head in disbelief, looking down at the picturesque bowl, then back to you.

Luca is impressed, and he has no intention of hiding it.

He picks up his wine glass by the stem, raising it to you.

"Cheers,” he says. “And thank you. This is a really beautiful dish.”

“Of course. Enjoy,” you reply, giving him a polite smile, before heading back into the kitchen.

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

“Good service tonight, everybody!” Jesper, your front of house manager, announces while clapping a few times to signal to staff that it’s time for a post shift meeting.

As you all gather in the pristine front of house space. Some of your cooks have taken their aprons off, others haven’t had a moment to unwind from the shift yet – business picking up in the last hour or so of service.

Jesper goes through his nightly wrap-up notes, celebrating the wins of tonight, and making sure to celebrate how everyone rallied to pick up pace when business spiked. He’s gregarious, larger-than-life, the kind of person who can talk to anyone about anything, making him an excellent front of house manager, and even better sommelier. You really lucked out with the twins, you think to yourself – with Jesper and Mathilde – when they were more than eager to work with you on opening this restaurant.

“Oh, and before we go, a client left a gift… table number four,” Jesper says, in reference to Luca’s table. He pulls a tan-colored pastry box from another table, setting it down on a table where everyone can take a look.

“As a thank you. He requested for me to share. So have it and let’s make a note next time he’s in to really treat him like a VIP.”

One of your most-talented servers opens the box, eliciting a chorus of gasps, giggles, and excited whispers as soon as the assortment of croissants and pastries are revealed.

You and Mathilde exchange a look as everyone else busy themselves with unpacking the pastry box. Mathilde raises an eyebrow and you’re not sure what to say. Witnessing your silent exchange, Jesper makes his way over to the both of you, before extending his arm to reveal the card he’s holding.

“And this, my dear…” he begins, exchanging a look with his sister. “...is for you.”

“What do you-, just me?” you ask as you take it, hesitantly.

“I think so, yeah,” he nods, confidently.

To the Chef, the front of the card reads.

“Jesper, let’s check out some of these pastries, yeah?” Mathilde suggests, not so subtly hinting towards her brother.

He nods, giving you a little space so that you can read the card Luca’s left for you.

As your staff divvy up the box of laminated pastries, sighing with joy as they taste the decadent, hand-crafted sweets, you take a few steps away to open the note. His handwriting is pristine – perfectly neat in every way, like he’s written over carefully measured invisible lines.

Chef,

Thank you for all of the great meals. I'd like to return the favor, that is, if you're open to it.

Tomorrow. 5 pm. Dronningens Tværgade 2, 1302

While Luca’s gift has been more-than-generous, you find yourself overwhelmed by questions. Was he a chef too? And why had he not said anything? And what was this gesture all about anyways?

You read the card a few more times, turning the words over in your head as you try to make sense of it.

Mathilde can see your overwhelm, your eyebrows knitted into one confused expression as she saunters back over to you.

“What does it say?” she asks, curiously. “A love confession perhaps?”

“Mathilde, you really have to stop reading all of those French romance novels!” you tease her. “It’s giving you too many ideas.”

“It’s the only way I keep up with my French!” she defends herself with a lackadaisical shrug, earning a laugh from you.

“Uh no… it’s actually a thank you card… only I think he… wants to feed me,” you share with her, holding the card out so that she can take a look.

“He’s a chef too?” she asks, taking the card from your hands.

“I think so, yeah,” you reply, letting out an exasperated laugh.

“Oh shit!” Mathilde exclaims, as soon as she sees the address that Luca’s written down.

“What?” you ask her, wondering if there’s something you missed.

“The address… that’s AOC. I think he’s a chef at AOC, babe,” she gasps, shaking her head as she hands the card back to you, sending a ‘you lucky, bitch’ look your way.

Oh shit, is right.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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ninjadeathblade · 10 months

Text

Nachos (a Nimona fanfic)

Summary: Nimona tags along on Ballister's nacho date with Ambrosius (set post-movie)

Warnings: A couple swears and that's about it

Word count: 1,050

Fluff with a tiny bit of angst

Author notes: Thanks you to @skating-is-cool for scheming with me on my other post about this. I didn't put loads of effort into this if I'm honest but I let the boys finally have their nachos together.

"You promise to behave?" Ballister asked nervously, refusing to go inside until Nimona agreed. The shapeshifter had been begging to come along with him to his date with Ambrosius. Ballister had reluctantly agreed, knowing that if he'd told her no she would've snuck along anyway. Nimona shrugged, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"I dunno. Maybe." She shot him a grin full of fangs, almost falling over before catching her balance again and leaning forward onto her tiptoes.

"Nimona, please," Ballister sighed, exasperation clawing at the inside of his skull as he brought a hand to his face to rub across his eyes. "This is the first time since…everything that me and Ambrosius have actually been able to go on a date." Ballister struggled to articulate it to her. Mentally, he understood that Nimona was over a thousand years old and had probably seen many people be in love. But he also had latched onto her as some kind of younger sibling or daughter to him, which meant he had to explain everything. "Because we've left the army now, I don't have to hide who I am as much. You should understand that."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Nimona replied, flashing him another smile. "C'mon then, let's go see your boyfriend." Ballister made to grab her shoulder before she headed into the bar but she weaved away from him, slipping through the door into the bar. Ballister gritted his teeth before following Nimona, a certain air of anxiety around him. He knew that Ambrosius still loved him, that hadn't changed. But would it be awkward? The last time they were here Ambrosius was trying to convince him to kill Nimona. Ballister mulled over his thoughts as he followed Nimona through the bar, not paying much attention to his surroundings.

"Hey handsome." Ballister jerked out of his thoughts at Ambrosius' voice, looking down at his lover. Ambrosius smiled softly up at him, moving over in the booth seat to make room for him. Ballister shot him a shy smile in return, sitting down beside him while Nimona took the seat across from him.

"You're sure you don't mind she's here?" Ballister whispered, resting his head on Ambrosius' shoulder.

"She's family, it's not like she wouldn't be here," Ambrosius responded, pressing a light kiss to the top of Ballister's head. Ballister closed his eyes, relishing in the feeling of safety. It hadn't been long since the queen had died but it felt like years of being on edge constantly.

"You know I can hear you two, right?" Nimona butted into the conversation and Ballister opened his eyes again, regarding her with a deadpan stare.

"You know you could let us be romantic together every now and then?" He retorted, earning a snort of laughter from Ambrosius. Nimona stuck her tongue out at him before turning her attention to something over his shoulder. She transformed into a mouse, scuttling across the table.

"Be back soon." Ballister sighed with relief, visibly sagging in his seat. As much as he loved Nimona, it did feel more than a little weird having her third-wheeling on his date. After all, she was like a daughter to him. And although he wanted to spend time with her, it felt strange to have her on his date with Ambrosius.

"May I get you anything sirs?" A waitress appeared almost out of thin air beside them.

"Nachos," the two of them said in unison.

"No olives. He's allergic," Ballister added, jerking a thumb at Ambrosius. The waitress nodded, walking away.

"You always have to specify, don't you?" Ambrosius teased, playfully poking Ballister in the side. Ballister laughed quietly, wrapping his prosthetic arm around Ambrosius' waist.

"I can't have you dying. Who would continue the Gloreth bloodline?" Ballister joked with a gentle squeeze to Ambrosius' hip. Ambrosius practically doubled over with laughter, banging his fist on the table a couple of times.

"Shit, Bal, you think I'd actually continue the bloodline?" Ambrosius questioned, eyes slightly teary from laughter as he looked up at Ballister. "The closest thing to a child that anyone is getting from me is Nimona. We are adopting her, right? I mean, I get she's technically older than us but she's still a child, you know?" Ballister placed a gentle kiss against Ambrosius' cheek.

"Yeah, if she's fine with it. I haven't asked her yet," Ballister told him, withdrawing his hand from its position around his lover, fidgeting with his hands under the table. The two of them fell into silence, something that had rarely happened in the time they'd known one another. The waitress returned, placing their bowls of nachos on the table and Ballister didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry." Ambrosius broke the silence. Ballister glanced towards him, noticing the tear tracks down his cheeks. He was honestly unsure if they were from laughter or not. "I'm so sorry I didn't trust you. Or Nimona." Ballister placed his hand over Ambrosius', the dark metal contrasting against his light skin. "I didn't even try to listen to you when you explained."

"It's not your fault," Ballister assured him.

"But it is. If I'd listened, if I'd tried to help then maybe it wouldn't have turned out this way." Ambrosius skimmed his thumb across the back of Ballister's hand. "If I could then I'd change it all." Ballister brushed the tears away from Ambrosius' eyes, turning in his seat to face him.

"But if that happened then we wouldn't have our family," Ballister pointed out, pulling Ambrosius into a hug. The two of them sat there in the booth for a while, feeling grateful that despite everything they still had one another.

"These nachos are delicious, I see why you both keep coming back here." Ballister pulled away from Ambrosius slightly, glaring at Nimona. She was lying slightly across the other side of the booth, a bowl of nachos in her hands as she ate some of them.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ballister swore. "Can you not see we're having a moment?"

"Yes. And I'm having nachos," Nimona replied, biting into another one. Ambrosius pressed a kiss against Ballister's temple.

"Leave her be. It's fine," Ambrosius said. Ballister smiled softly, pulling the second bowl of nachos towards him and his love.

"Yeah. It couldn't be better."

#nimona #nimona movie #nimona film #netflix nimona #nimona netflix #ballister boldheart #goldenheart #ballister x ambrosius #ambrosius goldenloin #ambrosius x ballister #ballister #nd stevenson #nimona fanfic #nimona 2023 #nachos

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aziraphales-library · 4 months

Text

Lost Fic #164

1. Hello everyone :) for a terrible long time I've been searching for a fic I remember. Maybe you lovely peoole can help me. In it, Aziraphale and Crowley were visiting Anathema and Newt. Crowley spiked his drink with a lil hellfire and of course, our favorite Angel took the wring cup by accident. Does anyone know it? Thanks in advance and have a lovely day :) - @belowperfect

2. this is probably a long shot, but, there was this one fic that I read when the show first came out. in it, Aziraphale moved into Crowley's apartment after doomsday because in it Adam didn't fix the bookshop (I think) I can't remember much, but I know that it was a multi chapter fic with sexual themes later on and I wonder if it sounds familiar to anyone, I wanna find it again because it was the first fic of the fandom I read lol. I feel like I read it here on Tumblr but it might have been AO3 too I'm not sure honestly. - anon

3. Hello I hope you are doing well. I have had this fic stuck in my head and I’m not sure if it was deleted or what but it was this fic about like Aziraphale and Crowley’s sexual tension throughout time and like for Crowley it was initially more lustful and eventually they sleep together during the French Revolution only for Crowley to treat it like a one night stand and it breaks aziraphales heart. The fic continues with the end of season one and like over time Crowley realized he messed up and loves Aziraphale and they are about to sleep together before the swap and Aziraphale initially is hesitant because of last time. Does this sounds familiar at all? - anon

4. Hi folks, Thanks for all the recommendations, and the tagging, you’ve led me to so many wonderful fanfics! I’m looking for a fanfic where Crowley sees Aziraphale beheaded, I believe in China. There’s also a story about Crowley and Aziraphale meeting in Japan I think, the plot involving a childless couple who find a child, collect and cage too many birds, and a bathhouse. It may be epistolary, or a diary. It’s long, and it’s wonderful! I just read the bloody thing (twice) maybe a month ago, and now I can’t find it. Any help would be very much appreciated. Thanks, L - @shoemakerobstetrician

5. I’m looking for a fic where either the book or radio versions of Aziracrow somehow end up in the bookshop and won’t stop having sex and it’s driving TV!Azi absolutely bonkers. I read it like two years ago and can’t find it! - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

#good omens #lost fic #ineffable husbands #mod d

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sygneth · 1 year

Text

Echoes of Elysium | Disco Elysium AU ...something?

Warnings

General warnings for my blog's content applies. Check here.

This AU is (rather) not very alternative. I am just trying to develop further events and some background for the characters, but even though I'm making research and I try to stay canon-compliant, only to fill in the gaps, I cannot guarantee it will never happen. Especially in this fandom, where many interpretations and paths are equally canon, we may not agree on some things, I hope you'll enjoy my point of view nevertheless. Some episodical OCs will appear too.

INDEX

EOE on ComicFury!

EOE on Tumblr:

Chapter 1: New Beggings -> START

EOE on AO3:

Main plot (uhh still in the process of uploading!)

Ficlet series (additional content)

LORE:

Precinct 41 plans and explanation

Plot outline

After Martinaise things are slowly getting back to normal, but the general atmosphere in the city gets thickens every day, La Retour is hanging in the air. Despite this, Harry is trying to stay sober and make amends. It's hard to say if Kim's appearance on the 41st is making things easier or harder between Harry and his old friends.

The Return happens. In the after-revolutionary mess, everybody tries to move on, but things are changing in almost every aspect of life. And on top of this, a particularly hard case drops and somebody has to take care of it.

The start of the project is directly after Martinaise, so forgive me this vague description, but I would hate to spoil the plot haha.

Okay, from now on additional info, still important but not crushial.

I want to focus on the relationship between the people of Precinct 41 and their internal experiences. Impactful events and thicker action will happen too, but mostly in the later chapters of this.

There are also some important premises of this AU I would like to highlight:

Kim was raised in an orphanage, presumably held by some Dolorian organisation (order?). Some of his old-fashioned manners and vocabulary are remainings after growing up in a religious environment (even if he's not very religious himself).

Eyes died around 9 months before the events from the game. Since then, Kim has been willingly working alone. His superiors were not very fond of that but somehow he managed not to get partnered with anyone.

Harry has no known family members left. At least as far as he and his friends know.

Jean and Harry's partnership started four, maybe five years ago. According to the game, it was "two years minimum" but personally I think those losers were stuck with each other for much longer.

Jean's years-long, unexplained depression has roots in some sort of personality disorder. Also, he is codependent on Harry, probably co-addicted too. He had problem with speed himself, however it's not nearly as serious as Harry's. I see him as more of a weekend/party drug user, as for now.

I assume that since the communist revolution gay relationships were technically legal in Revachol. Technically, because there are still no rights for same-sex couples and the social recognition is poor and rather negative (I got inspired by my own country in that matter)

That's all I can think of now. I will probably just add new information in the description of he pages.

Okay, cool, one last thing. What do you mean by "...something?"? Is this a comic? A fanfiction series? What am I looking at?

The answer is: I don't yet know. I am planning this to be mostly a comic, but I cannot say there won't be some written as fanfics parts or some kind of in-between media. I don't really want to limit myself to one medium only, but at this point, I have no idea what this will evolve into. I honestly just want to have fun lol

#let's bring it on #disco elysium #disco elysium fanart #informative #echoes of elysium #my art #sort of?

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levitonin · 26 days

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I don't enjoy Levi as much as I used to and seeing him triggers me, brings tears to my eyes and ruins my day. I don't know where it first started, but it's more likely that it's because of some of my most disliked opinions and statements about him within the fandom that made me change my opinion of him.

It's tragicomic that a character who used to bring so much happiness to my shitty life has turned into a character who ruins my day, my mood, and leads me to depression…

But because of some 'canon truths' and rhetoric that we have to go to great lengths to get him to accept us, that he doesn't accept us for who we are, that we have to be cursorily smart strong and special to impress him, that he wants too many options, and that he is obsessed with a character who is already dead in the series, I realized how unattainable he is. (I can't believe I'm saying this)

Isayama's shitty interviews, the way he relegates Levi to the category of 'useless, his role is over' because of a dead character, and the way he discards him and even plans to kill him a couple of times makes me feel very shitty. It gives me the impression that he's not an independent, big character.

Even though I try to forget him, to get away from him, to get interested in other fictional characters from other fandoms, I somehow come back to him like a toxic relationship.

Even though I force myself to read fanfic to comfort myself and out of some love for him, even the Levi fics I used to enjoy don't make me feel comfortable. Now when I read them, I'm often afraid that I'll see something I don't like. I don't know, it seems like in the majority of the fics I've skimmed, Levi always writes a kind of toxic relationship dynamic for Reader rather than being comfortable for her. He either sends her to her death, lies to her, or uses her for profit just for 'orders'. Sometimes he runs away like a coward when he should be supporting her. And instead of giving mutual love, he throws his feelings under her feet.

Of course I know that Levi is canonically not a soft uwu person who emphasizes personal actions like "I would sacrifice the world for you" "I will protect you from everyone, I will never let you die". But I still can't understand the writing appeal of Levi's behavior towards Reader in such near-toxic descriptions. How can they enjoy and write about it when it triggers me, alienates me from my love for the character, brings tears to my eyes? I think this is the true portrayal of Canon!Levi and the way he would treat Reader if he were in love…

I don't know who to talk to about this anymore. I don't know how to explain to people close to me or to a therapist that an unreal character has been dragging my mood to shit for a few years now. It's just that whether I like him or not, he's hurting me in a big way and I need to get rid of him...

I can't understand why I'm so stuck on him among so many fictional characters. I'm not sure if I love him, but sometimes when my love for him rises, I immediately think that we have to go through many stages to love him or to make him love us. I think it might be disappointment because I've learned over time that he's not the kind of person I like…

But sometimes when I see you guys writing/drawing/talking about Levi and having fun, I wish I was allowed to love and have fun instead of feeling sad…

Well this made me sad. It’s actually true that fictional characters can have a significant impact on your life, whether positive or negative. I don’t know what to say anon but I do hope you find peace and I’m sorry you have to go through all of this. May you find happiness.

#leviackerman aot #levi #levi ackerman #attack on titan #captain levi #levi aot #levi attack on titan

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raccoonsandrangoons · 2 years

Text

Stumblin’ In

✼ Steve accepts a job as a preschool teacher. You stumble into his classroom running late to pick up your daughter.

✼ A/N : it’s been over a year since I’ve published anything but Steve holds a special place in my heart and I just had to write this for him. Named after my favorite selfship song because what else is fanfic but self indulgence?

✼ 1.7k words

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉

For years now, it was just you and your daughter, Jubilee, living in a trailer down the road from Eddie and your sister.

Her father left the moment he found out about her, scaring you away from any further thoughts of romance. But your sweet little Jubilee was enough for you.

Being a single mom was tough, but you refused to let your sister and Eddie help too much. You already felt like an emotional burden on your sister, and you didn’t want to burden her too much when she’s already taking care of Wayne (a work injury has him taking an early retirement).

Wayne, sweetheart as he is, always insisted that you’re no burden. You and your little one were as much as family as Eddie and your sister.

“She helps ease the day when Eddie and ya sister are out,” Wayne always said.

A soft sigh left your lips and you looked at Wayne as your daughter ran around the front yard.

“I told you,” Wayne said, leaning back into his chair with his hands behind head. “I didn’t like that boy you brought to the wedding. Said he was bad news.”

“I should’ve listened to you, Uncle Wayne,” you said. “But then we wouldn’t have her, would we?”

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Steve loves his job. He never would imagine that he would ever be a preschool teacher, but he wouldn’t change it for anything. Really, he’s a daycare employee, but he’s in the preschool room, so he would consider himself a preschool teacher.

He had gotten the job on recommendation from Robin, the middle school band director. After Robin went off to college and came back a certified music teacher and Steve was still at Family Video, she said there was an opening for preschool at childcare not far from Hawkins schools.

“I know it’s not what you ever thought of, but you’re really good with kids,” Robin said. “I mean, look at Dustin!”

“Henderson’s all grown now; he’s in college,” Steve argued. “Besides he was in middle school when we met; these are little kids.”

“You were really good with the Byers baby when Johnathan and Nancy visited,” Robin quipped.

“That’s still different. That’s a baby baby, not a preschooler.”

“The pay is better than Family Video, I swear it,” Robin pressed. “And the insurance isn’t bad either!”

Steve thought for a moment. It was close to his last year on his parents’ insurance, and he really needed to find a place of his own.

“I think it’s worth a shot to at least apply. Do you really want to be stuck at Family Video for the rest of your life?”

So Steve applied, and what a shock it was when he got a call for an interview a couple days later and was hired within a week from that.

His dad, naturally, wasn’t pleased. It had ignited a massive fight.

“I don’t know, why don’t you come work for me?” Steve’s dad said the moment Steve told his parents he had applied for the job over a rare family dinner.

“I don’t want to work for the company or even in an office,” Steve huffed while cutting into the dry chicken. “And this is a decent paying job. It’s enough that I can move out.”

“You’re always welcome here as long as you need, honey,” his mother interjected, as if Steve hadn’t spent the majority of his time at home alone.

“I’m twenty-three, Mom,” he said. “I think it’s time I find my own. A real job, and they don’t even care that I don’t have a college degree.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little gay for you to be teaching preschool?” Steve’s dad commented.

Steve set down his fork and glared at his father. “Don’t say that.”

“Well, it’s a woman’s job,” his father pressed. “So are you?”

“A woman? No.”

“Gay, son. Are you?”

Tension grew thick.

“No, but don’t say that.”

After his fight with his father, he moved in with Robin. More rumors circulated around but were calmed by Chrissy, Robin’s friend from college, also living with them. The rumors were quickly dispelled by Robin’s statement in the Hawkins Middle teacher’s lounge that the two of them were just helping a friend in need until he got on his own feet. Which was exactly Steve’s plans, to save enough and live on his own for a bit.

It had only been a month into the new school year, but already Steve knew he had made the right decision even without Robin’s “I told you so.”

Just a few more months and he would have enough saved to move into his own place and be out of Robin’s hair.

He’d long since given up on romantic love, settling on just being “professional babysitter” all his life as Dustin had said.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉

Steve didn’t mind staying late. He understood that some days things ran over and parents would inevitably run late every once in a while.

He especially didn’t mind when the kid in question is his favorite. He knows he isn’t supposed to have favorites, but Jubilee is the kindest and most well-behaved child Steve has.

Jubilee didn’t seem to mind either, content in finishing the page out of the coloring book Steve gave her. She lifts up the book to show Steve the blue

“Looking good, honey!” he praised. “I really like the blue on the ladybug. Creative!”

After an hour however, Steve started to worry.

He dug around in his desk for papers to see if Jubilee has an emergency contact. After a moment of fumbling around, he finds her folder and flips through until he sees:

_____ Hargrove - Mother

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

Hargrove

His heart sinks into his chest and he feels a tightening. Billy has a baby. Jealousy is an ugly feeling. Billy Hargrove has the cutest daughter while the clock is still ticking on Steve’s dream of six little nuggets.

Shaking his head and telling himself there are bigger things to worry about than a long dead high school rivalry, Steves picked up the classroom phone and dialed the number listed as “mother”.

No answer.

He called a second time. Still no answer.

He looked back down at the folder and scanned for other names.

Jade Munson - Aunt

Eddie Munson - Uncle

Wayne Munson - Uncle

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

Munson

Steve still regularly visited with Eddie. How could a kid in his class be related to one of his good friends without him ever knowing?

Steve sank back into his chair.

Billy was a dad and Eddie was an uncle.

With a heavy sigh, he picked up the phone again and was just about to call Eddie when the door to his room slammed open.

Breathless and her hair falling out of a once neat bun was the most beautiful woman Steve had ever seen stumbling into the doorway.

“I’m so sorry,” you panted. You hunched over, trying to regain you breath. “I thought,” you said between heavy breaths. “I thought it was Eddie’s turn to pick her up.”

Steve had about two seconds to drink you in. As you lifted your head and met Steve’s gaze, he realized immediately why you were so familiar. You were the maid of honor at Eddie’s small wedding a few years ago, the one he couldn’t stop gawking at despite Robin’s teasing—the one he almost managed to find the courage to ask for a dance before he saw you laughing and dancing with none other than Billy Hargrove.

“Mama!” Jubilee exclaimed. The young girl threw down her crayons and ran to you with her tiny arms up, ready to scooped up into her mother’s arms.

“Hi, baby!” you said. “How was school?” You placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

Steve’s gut twisted with want as he heard little cry of “mama!” and watched the reunion before him. He felt dirty thinking of a practical stranger in such a way, but he couldn’t help it. You were gorgeous and genuinely cared for your daughter, and Steve, at his core, just wanted a family to call his own.

He felt a wave of emotions, primarily guilt, before he remembered there was no father listed in the girl’s emergency contacts. No Billy, just you, then who he assumed was your sister, Eddie, then Wayne. The evil bug of jealousy had backed off a bit, and Steve, despite chastising himself, felt a twinge of hope.

He lets his gaze drift to your left ring finger and sees that there’s no ring. Once again, he chastised himself for looking in the first place, and then a second time for the relief he feels over it.

“Thank you so much,” you say, as you hold your child who’s pressing her cheek against yours. “I’m so sorry. “I really thought Eddie was off today and would be taking her home, so I agreed to work late.”

Steve smiled and assured you that it’s okay. “She’s a real angel and I can see now where she gets it,” he said.

You felt a blush furiously creep up your cheeks. Your face is hot, burning, and you know you can’t hide it. You’re not used to compliments or any kind of attention. You’d long since given up on romance since Jubilee’s father left, focusing all your energy into raising her and working.

“I swear it won’t ever happen again. Thank you so much.” You looked at the clock on the wall.

6:30.

Steve had stayed for an extra hour at least.

“Oh my god! It’s so late.” You looked at your daughter in your arms and tickle her stomach. “I bet you’re hungry aren’t you.”

Instead, it’s Steve’s stomach that growls, and it’s his turn to flush with embarrassment. You turned your face towards Steve at the sound, and he sheepishly cast his eyes down, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I know this is a reach,” you said, shuffling your feet in nerves and moving your daughter from one hip to the other. “But could I repay you by making you dinner?”

“That actually sounds wonderful,” Steve said, his voice almost getting stuck in the mess of flutters his heart and stomach were making. “Thank you, please.”

“Mama?” Jubilee tugged on your ear to get your attention. She whispered in her three year old way that everyone within a decent radius could still hear. “Is Mr. Steve coming home with us?”

“Oh well, yes? I think so?” You looked to Steve seeking confirmation. “Uh, unless tonight is too soon…”

“No!” Steve exclaimed. “I mean, no. No. It’s not too soon for me. Tonight sounds perfect.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #Steve is truly the love of my life #soft Steve

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