#wanted to draw all the robins like this but I simply do not have time :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

catherinnn · 11 months

Text

Thigh High Boots

request: @kellyxo1 asked "Idk if its weird it just popped into my head but maybe a eddie x reader where hes been busy with his campain and paying no attention to reader and she teases him with wearing thigh high boots and nothing else and she teases him and they make love"

warnings: SMUT +18, p in v, oral (f), fingering, orgasm denial, dirty talk, unprotected sex, cursing, not proofread sorry :)

words: 2k

masterlist

“Baby, I’m back!” you shout from the door closing it.

“Hey” he says without taking his eyes off the sheet of paper he’s writing and drawing on.

“You’re still with that?” you complain.

He has spent the entire afternoon writing the new campaign. He was having a hard time with his creativity and imagination lately. He couldn’t think of anything, nothing that was good enough. You were gone for a couple of hours to help Robin buy a new outfit to wear for a date she has —and you bought something for yourself too while you were there.

“Yeah, I had to start again” he quickly answers. It was the truth though, at first he started with something, but as he read it again, he realized it was too basic, he had definitely wrote something similar before. So he threw that away and forced himself to keep thinking until he got something good. He started with a new idea, but he still was having a hard time. He had to finish it though, the campaign was in three days.

“Eds, you’ve been with that all day” you complain again.

“Shh, wait, wait” he lift a hand making a stop sing so he could keep writing.

Your eyes widened at this attitude, you were clearly bothering him. He kept writing, completely ignoring you. You sigh and walk away thinking of what you could do.

More time passes, maybe half an hour, and he still didn’t even lift his head from the paper. You could see his frown or his stressed expression, cursing under his breath or mumbling something to then write it on the paper in front of him.

You sigh louder. Nothing.

You get into the bathroom with what you bought. Closing the door and opening the box inside the bag, you take out your new thigh high boots. Black, leather, shiny.

You have had your eye on them for a while, and when Robin asked you to come shopping with her you had your opportunity to finally purchase them. You came home exited to try them on and show them to your boyfriend whom you were a 100% sure would go crazy over them.

The problem was he’s ignoring you. But you have an idea.

You take your clothes off. Shirt, pants, shoes, underwear. You put the boots on and you feel powerful, sexy, confident.

You walk out of the bathroom with a smirk, feeling yourself. Eddie’s still clueless, eyes and attention completely taken by his work.

You walk over to him until you’re behind the chair he’s sitting on. You hug him from behind, slowly passing your hands from his shoulders to his arms and land on his torso.

He keeps erasing words on the paper and writing over them.

“Eds, can I get your attention for just one second?” you whisper on his ear.

“Mhm”

You walk a few steps to stand in front of him, still touching his arm with one hand.

His face changes so beautifully. From a stressed frown and faintly pursed lips, to a slightly open mouth, doe eyes going up and down your body, not deciding what to land on. Your pretty face, startling breasts, voluptuous hips, or black thigh high boots making him go week on the knees.

“I wanted to show you what I got today, do you like them?” you say innocently, like you’re not completely naked but the sinful pair of boots on you.

He whispers your name, almost whimpering.

You very slowly spin around to show him all sides of the boots on you, but the boots weren’t the only thing he was looking at. Gazing at your back and ass first.

“What do you think?” you tease.

“Baby” he definitely whimpers now. “Fuck”

“What? What do you want” you softly ask him.

“Want you” he simply says.

“Okay” you move the notebook and the pens on the table to a side, forgetting about them, and take a sit on the table right in front of him. You open your legs planting your covered feet on either side of him on the chair. His gaze goes straight to your pussy. “I think you know what to do now”

His face quickly shoves into your centre and you moan surprised. He starts making out with your pussy making you even more wet.

“Mmh, slowly baby” your hand stokes his hair and he slows down running his tongue through your folds. “Fuck”

Then he focuses on your clit, flicking it with the tip of his tongue, his hands grabbing your thighs that are on both sides of his head. “Eddie, you’re doing so good baby”

He moans at the praise and you keep talking to him, making his erection hurt. “Right there, what a good boy, so good for me baby” One of his hands leaves your thigh to start palming himself through his jeans.

“You better not be doing what I think you are” you say and his eyes open to watch you with guilt. “Are you touching yourself without asking me first?”

“Please, it hurts” he complains.

“Never told you to stop eating me out” you order and he goes back to your pussy. “You were doing so well, why do have to misbehave?” you say disappointed. “First you ignore me all day acting like I’m not here and paying more attention to your game than me, and now you’re not even grateful I’m not punishing you but also you touch without permission”

His tongue stops moving, he slowly pushes his head back and a smug smirk forms on his face.

“What are you doing?” you ask getting angry.

“You’re such a spoiled brat” he laughs pursing his lips. “Was that why you did all that fucking show for? Cause you needed attention?”

“Eddie-“

“No. Get off the table and turn around” he orders now. You move slowly still doubting. “Quicker baby” he mocks your tone from before.

You stand facing the table with him now stood up behind you, no longer sat down. He pushes you down so your front is pressed against the table. You moan surprised. His hands run through your back, your ass and your legs covered by the boots.

“I love these new boots by the way, you look absolutely sinful with them” he says. His hands go back up to your ass, groping it, and smacking it once. One hand lowers to your core, running his fingers through it and slowly pushing two in, you moan. “Such an attention whore” he goes quicker, you can hear the squelching from how wet you are.

His thumb starts working on your clit and you try to hold onto something but all you find is the endless table. You don't even try to be quiet while his fingers work inside of you, he curls them touching just the right spots.

You clench around his fingers and he notices. “You’re gonna cum baby?” He asks and you nod. “Answer me, use your words”

“Yes, Eddie!” you moan. And just when you’re about to release, just when you were feeling the pleasure build up in your belly, it suddenly stops, he took his hand out. A whine comes out of your mouth before you could even think about it, a sign of complaint.

“You think you can act the way you did and still cum anytime you want?” he asks sarcastically. “Such a slut, coming out naked wearing only these fucking boots, just for me to look at you for a bit. Was it too long of day without my attention on you? I don't know how you did it before me, princess"

If he was hoping for an answer he didn't get one. I don't think the right expression for your state right now could be 'fucked out' because you didn't even get to cum. Maybe it was because of that, your mind could only think of his fingers, arms, torso, tattoos, neck, lips. His dick. Basically just Eddie.

Eddie Eddie Eddie.

Who, speaking of, lifts your upper body so you're standing up against him. "You okay, princess?" he softly asks, no longer teasing or rhetorically asking.

You nod you head. "Just want you, please, Eds"

"Want you too, baby" He confesses, you can tell he's softer now. He takes his shirt off and lowers his pants along with his boxers. He takes a sit on the chair behind him and helps you turn around so you can sit on his lap. "Are you comfy there?"

"Mhm, very" you bite your lip and give a smile.

He starts kissing you, bringing your body even closer to his, chest to chest. His hands run all of your back, to your ass and thighs. Your hands tug at his hair which makes him groan against your mouth.

It's a heated kiss, to show how much you need each other right now. He positions the head of his cock on your entrance and you understand what he wants. You push it in, slowly, until it's all in. He groans louder, you moan higher.

You start going up and down with his help, he's holding your hips and guiding your moves. Up and down, side to side, front to back. Moves that just make it feel amazing.

You keep kissing, swallowing each other's moans that are louder and louder each time. He kisses your neck, or more like attacks it with kisses, licks and bites that leave marks behind.

"Fuck, Eddie!" that's all you can say, a variation of profanities and his name. But he loves it and drives him crazier than anything else.

He grabs your hips harder holding you in place and starts bucking his thrusts upwards hitting your spot even harder.

"Eddie! Oh, fuck!"

"Princess, fuck, you make me go feral. I fucking love you so -mghh" his voice is groaning and he the only thing he can think of is harder, faster.

You start playing with your clit and he's mesmerized by the sight. Your pussy swallowing him and taking every inch of his fat cock, your puffy and wet clit being played with by your tiny and delicate fingers. He moans louder.

You watch his pretty face, he's checks are red and a slight layer of sweat is making his skin shiny, his mouth is opened in a rounded position, and his eyes are fighting to stay open just so he could watch you.

"Yes baby, play with your clit, fuck you're so wet you're dripping onto my lap, so fucking tight"

Your other hand placed on his shoulder starts grabbing harder pushing your nails into his skin. Your moans are incontrollable.

"'m cuming!" you manage to say.

"Yes please, cum for me, cum on my cock, make a bigger mess baby" he begs and it makes you cum right there with a scream. He keeps fucking into you. "I'm almost there, sweetheart, oh fuck I'm-"

He groans against the skin of your shoulder, grabbing your hips even harder, leaving the marks of his fingerprints. He stops moving once all of his cum is inside of you.

After a few minutes of catching your breath, Eddie helps you to the couch and takes care of cleaning you up.

“Now every time you wear those boots, I’m gonna get hard” you laugh at his joke.

“I’m gonna wear them often, then” you joke now.

“I’m sorry for being a dick today, I shouldn’t have ignored you like I did” he states. “It’s just I’m running out of ideas and I have the campaign is in three days and I feel like everything I have so far is shit”

“It’s fine Eds, I’m just worried about you, I don’t want you to overexert yourself” you explain. “I know you’re against postponing the campaigns but maybe you should consider it. They would understand… and if they don’t I’m gonna have a talk with them”

In the end, Eddie did postpone it for next week. Gareth and Mike were the only ones who got mad, but after Dustin had talked to them, they finally understood.

Dustin had been worried about Eddie too, noticing how stressed he got every time the campaign was mentioned, and was the first one to defend his dungeon master before you even had the chance.

You helped Eddie write the campaign. You read what he had so far and realized you were right from the start, he was overthinking it. But you helped him change the things he didn’t like and helped him with the ending. Finally the campaign was held on Monday, so didn’t waste any more time.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine

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gatitties · 1 year

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Hi 👋😊.

I just had this a idea for almost a whole year and it about a young teen female Reader who have a father figure or mother figure from the pirate they like the most but~~ I want them to be the older version from the future like when they are at the age of 40 or 60 . ( Strawhat pirates & white beard pirates & kid pirates)

And if you don't write about the whitebeard pirate's it okay .instead of it I would like it to be the heart pirates 😊♡.

Edited!\ take your time okay, love your writing by the way👋😊♡

─Strawhats, Heart Pirates, Kid pirates & Whitebeard Pirates x teen!fem!reader (Platonic)

─Summary: some headcannons with your mother/father figure and the rest of the crew

─Warnings: the characters are older, like in those 40/60 year old drawings (reference)

Well yes I write for whitebeard and as a bonus you will have all four crews, ty!! ;)

─ You're like the baby of the crew, no matter how strong or smart you are, for them it's like a duty to keep you safe even though you don't need it.

─ Luffy, Chopper and Usopp are your best allies when you get bored and want to play or play a joke on others, although they are not so young for their usual games they can always make a small exception for you.

─ As for family roles… Sanji was like a father to you, he was the most attentive to everything, he controlled that you had a balanced diet, that you hydrated, and he made sure that nothing and nobody could bother you or harm you, physically or mentally.

─ This cook already has an age and a past that makes him want to protect every possible child, and despite the fact that you were not a child, in his eyes it still seemed that you were 5 years old and not 13.

─ You called him 'dad' once by accident and he cried after you left the room.

─ Sometimes he just walks into your room to tell you something random "did you know that swordfish can swim up to 100 km/h? They are great hunters" and leaves without saying anything else, he doesn't even wait for you to answer, "Close the door!" of course he never closes the door after that.

─ You spend a lot of time in the kitchen and he teaches you to make your favorite dishes.

─ Despite being forty years old, the fights with Zoro won't stop, and he always puts you in the middle to give him support, "yellow looks much better" "green is better, it doesn't look like piss" "Of course not, honey, what do you think about this? Yellow is better isn't it?" "I guess?" "Ha! see, my little girl is always right marimo"

─ Franky and Brook are like the uncles who spoil you.

─ Now… if you're looking for who won to be your mother figure, the award went to Nami, despite not being as young as before and having lived more adventures, she will never stop being like a scared cat and tends to separate you from danger when she sees it.

─ She earned most of your affection pretty quickly.

─ Typical mother who makes you save as much as possible, she'll lend you her old clothes if still in good condition, "this shirt suits you better than it did when I was your age, you'll be a beautiful girl when you grow up!"

─ Although she doesn't mind pampering you a bit if she wants, it's practically difficult for her to deny you something if you really want it, overall, she can always put others in debt to get more money.

─ Lots of relaxing baths with her and Robin, you like to gossip about everything you see when you stay on an island for a while.

— Many moments of shopping together, it doesn't matter if you like it or not, she will simply drag you down because she needs the opinion of someone younger to stay "in fashion".

— She'll also teach you everything she knows about cartography and navigation.

— Father figure Law lives under stress, his night schedules are still as shattered as when he was young and now he has a teenager under his wing to care for.

─ He is very strict with everything, he wants you to maintain a healthy life so you will have many restrictions, ranging from not spending much time inside the submarine to correcting your posture when you're sitting wrong. "You look like a shrimp sitting like this, correct your posture or you'll have back pain" "You look like an emo in your forties and nobody says anything to you" "…"

─ He's worried because teenagers are so carefree and stupid sometimes, he'll have Bepo supervise when he can't.

─ You have many arguments with him for small things, but don't worry, if he punishes you Shachi and Penguin are the uncles who get you out of trouble.

─ This duet with you by their side only means one thing to Law and it's headache.

─ Whenever you're in a bad mood, the crew jokes that Law has infected you with his continual sulking disease, and that now you are like father and daughter.

─ Law is a proud dad inside of him, he won't show that he is proud of you out loud, but in his mind he has you as someone smarter than half the crew.

─ He will teach you everything he knows about medicine, unless you don't like it or are too squeamish about operating or dissecting, however you are required to learn everything about basic first aid.

─ Ikkaku is the only woman on the whole ship so she was the mother figure who helped you not go crazy among so many men and an adorable bear.

─ You're always welcome in the kitchen to help or observe, but mostly to gossip, sometimes Bepo joins.

─ She has small details with you, like buying some matching pendants or bracelets, she also likes to comb your hair with different styles, definitely your personal hairdresser.

─ Unlike Law, Ikkaku will always let you know that she's proud of you for any little thing, like if you've only managed to take down a few guys on your own without help and will yell in mid-battle "Well done, that's my girl!"

─ God bless you with this crew because you will not have a day off, just because they have aged doesn't mean that they are not as chaotic as before.

─ Although they will respect you, you are not in this crew for nothing, and also, all these guys are afraid of an angry teenager with little hours of sleep. "Dude, shut the fuck up if you don't want me to insert this knife as a new piercing in your forehead" "Yo… ok, chill kiddo"

─ The closest thing to a mother figure that you found was Heat, because he was the one who acted the most like a mother hen with you, apparently he was the most concerned about your physical integrity because he was at that age of wanting children and you were the closest to that.

─ It's not like he was depriving you of potentially lethal weapons for a teenager, but he was more afraid of what people would do with someone young like you.

─ Because being in this crew most of the time means fighting and going to clubs, so yeah, he always had an eye on you just in case some nasty person tried something weird with you.

─ Wire always took care to relax Heat when you'd rather just walk around the village than be in a bar because you weren't much of a fan of drinking alcohol at your age. "What if she gets kidnapped? She can be there all alone being scared" "She literally dismembered a guy last time we fought, she'll be fine."

─ Wire is the cool uncle who lets you do whatever you want as long as your worried mom doesn't find out.

─ And if we talk about a father figure… Killer, Killer acted like a responsible father most of the time, not as worried as Heat but always watching over you and above all that you didn't let yourself be influenced by some of Kid's stupidity.

─ Because Kid was like your demon on your shoulder, despite already being of an age, this man wouldn't stop being impulsive and you're an easy-to-influence teenager, so you and Kid have a sibling relationship.

─ Killer just watches the two of you while he looks disapprovingly, you can't even see his face and you already know that he is disappointed with your decisions. "You guys broke what? oh okay." a lot of passive-aggressiveness whenever he scolds you.

─ But he will always scold Kid more because he is of legal age and should be responsible, he definitely doesn't leave you alone with him because the last time you ended up drunk.

─ And despite not being of many words, he's like the presence you need by your side at certain times, someone you can turn to if something bothers you and that you know that he will be there for you.

─ Overprotective squad in general.

─ Everyone sees Whitebeard as a father, however in your eyes he is like your grandfather, because Marco had earned the position of father figure.

─ This man wanted to establish a life a few years ago, start a family etc, then one day you just arrived and he decided to take you under his wing, literally.

─ He is the least worried if you compare him with the men of the other crews, he knows that he has many people who protect you by his side, so he is calm in that aspect.

─ He will still scold you for your bad habits. "Eat slower you'll choke if you keep eating like a turkey" "Don't you have a nest to make or something? I know how to eat, I'm not Ace" "Hey!"

─ Ace may have matured a lot more but he'll still be a bad influence on you, so Marco always asks Izo to keep an eye on both of you, because the last time he left you two alone you ended up in the stomach of a sea king.

─ His chest will swell with pride if you call him 'dad' in front of people.

─ He's the kind of dad who tells all the shits that have happened to you and he embarrasses you in front of the crew just because he wanted to tell a funny anecdote about you, although he later apologizes to you if he really upset you.

─ As for a mother figure, this crew is short of such things, but the closest thing was Izo, because without a doubt, within this crew full of testosterone, he was much more elegant and careful than the others.

─ And more than anything because you could steal his makeup to use it, although you didn't know how to apply many of the things he had, he helped you with that. "Honey you're spreading the makeup wrong" "Can you teach me Izo?"

─ He taught you a lot about self defense in case someone bothers you more than necessary, like using guns, you should know how to protect yourself just in case.

─ Proud mom watching you kick ass.

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rosewaterandivy · 4 months

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Award season starts tomorrow and I can’t help but think of actor Steve and rockstar girlfriend attending all these award shows. And the public isn’t aware of their engagement until they hit the red carpet at the golden globes and anytime a reporter asks about the ring they both act coy 🥹

You are so right for that baby!

Regardless of the awards show, the prep remains the same: Steve doing fuck-all until the last possible minute, while you get poked and prodded within an inch of your life for the majority of the day before getting quite literally sewn into a gown for the rest of the evening. And he feels for you, really he does because it’s not fair that you’ll be raked over the coals for the slightest perceived misstep— choice of designer, amount of jewelry, hairstyle, makeup, etc.— while he can just show up in a Thom Browne suit and call it a day.

As much as he’d like to whisk you away, back to the cosy mountain chalet and honeymoon engagement haze (he very much misses the days of you running around an oversized cashmere sweater, illuminated by the lights of the Christmas tree— even better were the times when you were wearing the engagement ring only), awards season beckons. And you take it all in stride, god does he love you for that.

Vickie had absconded with you not long after breakfast and Steve hasn’t seen or heard from you in hours at this point. It’s torture and he finds it’s something he’d rather not take part in again. Robin is doing what she can to keep him occupied, going over upcoming projects and reminding him of his schedule while he idly sips from his drink. He half-heartedly keeps up with a texting conversation with Eddie, speculating on the ridiculous red carpet interview questions and whether or not you’ll be wearing something that will make Steve weak in the knees.

The answer is always yes, and Ed’s got odds in favor a brief exit during the awards ceremony that will have Steve returning slightly flushed with a dazed look in his eye.

“Rally the troops,” your voice startles him from the entryway. “Harrington, let’s get this show on the road!”

Robin shoots him a knowing smirk and follows him into the foyer. Vickie stands behind you, her hands full with her clutch and yours, free hand carrying the excess black fabric of your gown.

And holy shit, Steve is in for a rough evening.

Hasn’t even gotten to the venue yet and he’s already slipping. Robin claps a hand on his shoulder with a wicked grin, “Deep breaths Steve, keep ‘em coming.”

He doesn’t know where to look first— your tits pressed against the black fabric, looking as if they could spill from the corset any second now, the high slit of the skirt showing an expanse of your thigh bracketed by a black garter and stocking drawing the eye down to an impressive heel that makes your legs look positively delectable, or the prominent gleam of the sparkler on your ring finger affixed over the black sheer opera gloves on your arms.

Steve wants to fall on his knees to grovel and beg you to skip the ceremony and let him worship you for hours instead.

The man is simply not going to make it.

When his eyes finally make their way back to yours, he raises a solitary brow as you wiggle your fingers in the gloves. “Yeah?” He asks with a nod to the ring on your left hand.

You smile so sweet and he swears he’s falling in love again.

Christ Harrington, get a fucking grip.

“Yeah,” you say, soft and low, extending your hand to fall into his. “Always.”

The Golden Globes was always fun.

Drinks and carousing, an atmosphere of humor and frivolity. Plus, Eddie always managed to sneak his way to Steve’s table with his screenwriter girlfriend in tow. He’d have you snickering and laughing more than the host could ever hope to, making it a boon for the camera operators to zip by for a shot of your table. Steve, ever the professional, had honed a poker face over years of these events. You, however, had decidedly not and, as a result, various memeable moments had occurred thanks to yours truly.

Eddie had one as your contact photo, as a matter of fact.

Before you can relax and settle in for the show, the red carpet had to be walked. In years past, Steve had braved it alone and done the perfunctory interviews, graciously dodging any inquiries about your relationship per the PR team’s advice. And you had done the same for the AMAs and Grammy’s. It was a good system and it worked a treat, occupying the media outlets with soundbites and quotes while one of you walked in after last call and bypassed the entire circus.

But this year…

“Steve! Cherry!”

A cacophony of voices calling your names as you step onto the red carpet and stand for photo call. As you exited the car, Vickie all but threw the black clutch at you, waving her left hand all the while. Now, the supple leather was safely in your grasp, effectively blocking your left hand from prying eyes. Steve’s arm winds around your back, settling his large hand at the small of your back.

His thumb moves in soothing circles against the fabric, pulling you close as the flashbulbs fire. “You look down right evil tonight,” he murmurs, voice pitched low, breath fanning against the sensitive skin of your neck. “Anything to say for yourself?”

You smother a laugh and look back over your shoulder, spotting Eddie. “I plead the fifth.”

As you wave him over, Eddie wolf-whistles loud enough to wake the dead. He cackles and drags his girlfriend over by the hand. “Damn girl, can I call you sometime?”

Rolling your eyes, you tug him into the photo. “Edward, you know I cannot be held responsible for the varied ways in which Steve will kill you.”

His girlfriend huffs a laugh, “That makes two of us then.”

A few photos are taken of the four of you before the handlers single out Steve. He parts from you reluctantly, dropping a kiss on your brow before he leaves. “You’re paying for that later, y’know.”

“Sure, honey,” you brush him off with a smile, “We’ll see if you can walk the talk once I’m through with you.”

He nearly stumbles at that, earning another laugh from Eddie.

“Steve!” The reporter crows into the mic, waving him over, “So good to see you, thanks for stopping by.”

“You as well, and thanks for having me.”

Steve hates this part. Well, truthfully he loathes most of his charade, but he’s not about to bite the hand that feeds him. Give a little, get a little, or so his publicist says. She prattles on about something or other— his nomination or upcoming projects, he’s not really sure— and turns back to him.

“Congratulations on your nominations tonight, but are additional congratulations called for? Maybe for you and certain Grammy award winning artist?”

“Oh thank you very much,” he effuses with a smile. “You mean Eddie over there?” He glances over his shoulder, finding the long-haired man easily. “I mean we’ve been buddies for a while—“

The reporter laughs, “Not exactly, but it is nice to see him here supporting you.”

Steve refrains from rolling his eyes, “He’s supporting Liz Finch. She’s nominated for best original screenplay, but I’m sure you already know that.”

You slowly turn, catching the last part of Steve’s clipped response, eyes narrowing. ‘Be. Nice.’ you mouth at him, knowing he should’ve eaten something before you left the house.

“Of course, my apologies.” The reporter has enough sense to look abashed, “I just meant that it’s nice to see the four of you together, supporting one another.”

He hums in assent, eyes trailing you as you chat with a few friends making the rounds. Their eyes generally fall to your left hand, still hidden behind the clutch you’re carrying, curious as you exchange pleasantries.

Steve does his level best with the remaining interviews, but they always try and cajole a confirmation from him either about his relationship with you or a potential engagement. Little do they know that behind that little black bag, nestled just underneath your engagement ring, sits a wedding band.

To his mind, it really doesn’t matter if he comes home with a Golden Globe tonight because he’s already won something better than another statuette or accolade: a rockstar wife.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #modern actor!steve #fic: hmlahr #awards season blurbs #cee’s got mail!

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panfluidme · 2 months

Text

Incorrect Quotes

Do note that all of my DC knowledge comes from friends, text posts, and three shows (Young Justice, Teen Titans, and Teen Titans Go)

— Damian: I like saying no. It lowers their enthusiasm — Tim: I’m fine Tim: It’s just that life is pointless and nothing matters and I’m always tired — Damian: Do you think that marrying penguins made some kind of statement? Tim: Yes Tim: The statement was that you're really lonely and you need a pet — Jason about Dick: Suspect is... obnoxious and irritating, even from a great distance —

Dick: I'm too young to die and too old to eat off the kids' menu Dick: What a stupid age I am

— Robin!Jason: Look. I might not have been a saint, but it's not like I killed anybody. I wasn't an arsonist. I never found a wallet outside of an IHOP and thought about returning it but saw the owner lived out of state so just took the cash and dropped the wallet back on the ground Batman: Okay, that's really specific, and that makes me think that you definitely did do that

— Alfred after setting up one of the Batkid's birthday parties: I would say I outdid myself, but I'm always this good. So I simply did myself — Jason: I came up with hundreds of plans in my life, and only one of them got me killed — Jason after acting like he was Tim so he could stay up later: Why do bad things always happen to mediocre people who are lying about their identities? — Bruce: how did you get my children to gang up on me like this? Alfred: I asked them if they wanted to embarrass you, and they instantly said yes — Bruce: Until I was 25 I thought the only response to ‘I love you’ was ‘Oh crap' — Tim extremely sleep deprived: You know what’s weird? Donald Duck never wore pants. But whenever he’s getting out of the shower, he always puts a towel around his waist. I mean, what is that about? Jason drunk out of his mind: Jason: I've never thought of it like that— — Jason: It hurts my Jason’s apple! Tim: For the last time, it’s not named after each individual man! — Tim: You didn’t cry when Bambi’s mom died? Bruce: Yes, it was so sad when the guy stopped drawing the deer

#batfam #incorrect quotes #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #the good place #parks and rec #brooklyn 99 #friends

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chervbs · 1 year

Text

the barber predicament— s. harrington

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

synopsis: when steve complains that he can’t find a new barber after his old one retired, eddie recommends you; an old friend of his that’s a stylist. and you seem to know the way right to steve’s heart-through his hair. based on this request.

warnings: reader and eddie are besties, brief mention of eddie and max’s shitty childhoods, probably incorrect depictions on what it’s like to be a hair stylist, FLUFF to the max and terrible writing

a/n: I really really don’t like how this came out but I loved to request so much that I forced myself to finish it. everything I know I about being a hair stylist is from getting my hair done so much and from tiktok, so I tried to keep the details I wasn’t sure of vague. I apologize if anything is wrong, please let me know if it is. also I completely guessed on how much hairciuts were in the 80's so sorry if thats wrong too. otherwise, like always, i’d love any feedback you guys give me

masterlist

“Steve, I sympathize with you, I really do, but if I have to listen to you complain that you can’t find a barber for another second, I will tell Keith that you’ve been letting pretty girls get away with their late return fees.”

Steve’s jaw fell open, staring dumbfounded at Robin. “W-well, excuse me,” He stuttered, offended. “For wanting to confide in my best friend about my troubles. Truly, Robin, I don’t know why I assumed you’d be supportive.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, shaking her head lightly at her friends dramatics. “I was supportive up until the fourth time you talked about it. What’s the big deal, anyways?” She asked. “There’s like 3 different barbers in town. Go to one of them.”

Steve stared at her incredulously, as if she’d just told him to shave his head. “Are you being serious? Do you know me at all?”

Robin sighed, pulling the bin of returned movies out from under the counter. “Yes, Steve, in fact I do. I know that your hair is weirdly important to you. But what do you expect me to do about the fact that you won’t trust any of the barbers in town?” She asked, organizing the movies by genre on the rolling cart next to her.

“You looking for a barber, Harrington?” The additional voice caused the two Family Video employees to jump, looking over to see Eddie leaning on the counter casually.

Recovering from the startle, Steve nodded skeptically. “Yeah, I am. Why, you have someone you know?”

Eddie nodded with a grin. “Indeed I do. This girl that graduated the first time I was supposed to. She was in Hellfire. Went to school for hair and everything. Even does mine on occasion for a discount.”

Steve’s eyes shot up to his hairline, head nodding slowly. “Right.” He said, drawing out the vowel. “Well, listen, Munson. I mean no offense when I say this, but I don’t know if I trust someone with my hair that leaves you looking like that.” He explained, gesturing to the other boys head.

Eddie looked at him blankly. “Offense taken.” He deadpanned. “You think I want my hair like this simply for convenience?”

Both Steve and Robin stayed silent, giving Eddie knowing looks instead. He sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine, that’s partially why. But, I also have to give credit to my ultimate role model, Kirk Hammett.” He grinned.

He received blank looks from his friends and the metal head threw his arms up in exasperation. “Really? Kirk Hammett? Lead guitarist of Metallica? Nothing? Why am I friends with you guys?”

Before either of them could respond with a witty remark, Max came skipping up to the counter with two movies in her hands, throwing them down onto the counter. “I’m ready.”

“2 movies?” Eddie glared at the redhead. “Really, Maxine?”

Eddie and Max had a very odd brother sister relationship that was built almost entirely on a consistent basis of bickering and shoving each other around. Still, they looked out for one another, and Eddie felt responsible for making sure the little bit of Max’s childhood that was left was positive. Which he did so in different ways, including bringing her to rent movies for their movie nights.

“Yes, 2. Because you still owe me for the last movie night you forgot about.” She spit back. Eddie gritted his teeth, sliding over the correct amount of money to Steve for the movies.

“As I was saying,” He sent the redhead one last glare. “Even though my hair is convenient for my lifestyle, I ask for it to look a certain way to resemble someone I look up to. She’s the only one who’s ever gotten it to how I want.” Eddie told Steve, snatching a pad of sticky notes and a pen from behind the register.

He scribbled down a series of numbers before sliding it back. “That’s the number for the salon she works at. Give her a call. If you want.”

You were on your lunch break when the call came in. On a Wednesday, there was no need to have many stylists in the salon at once. Most appointments and walk ins would happen in the afternoon and as a younger stylist you were more often than not told to come in during the day for walk ins. The other women in the salon were older, more experienced stylists that didn’t need the extra cash you normally got for the services.

The food on your fork was midway to your mouth when the phone rang and you let it fall back onto your plate with a sigh.

“Thanks for calling Hawkins #1 hair salon, how can I help you?” The slogan spewed from your lips like a broken record.

“Uh..hi.” You straightened at the deep voice that came from the phone. Of course, you had men in the salon, usually though just to wait for their wives or kids to get their hair cut. There was the occasional male client, but most went to the local barbers and wouldn’t be caught dead getting their hair done in your salon. As if getting a haircut from a woman made them more feminine.

“Hello!” You chirped. “How can I help you today?”

The man on the other line hesitated for a second. “I’d like to book a haircut? With, um…Y/N.”

You perked up at the sound of your own name, a bashful smile appearing on your lips. Someone had recommended you?

“That would be me.” You chuckled. “Can I ask who referred you?”

The nameless man gave you a polite laugh, the deep timbre of the sound sending a warmth to your cheeks. “Uh, yeah. Eddie? Eddie Munson? He said you guys were friends in high school. Said you were good at what you do.”

The kind words certainly did nothing to quell the heat in your skin, but you still beamed at the mention of your friend. “Yeah, Eddie, of course. I’ll have to give him a discount the next time he comes in.” You joked. In all seriousness, you already didn’t charge Eddie the normal amount that you did for haircuts, fully aware of his financial situation. “But, yeah, I can put you in for a haircut. What day were you hoping to come in?”

“Is tomorrow okay? It’s my only day off.”

You opened up the binder that kept track of all appointments, making sure there were openings for the next day. “Yeah, it says here I have an opening at 10am and another at 1. Either of those sound good?”

The line went silent for a second too long, and you have a feeling the man nodded before remembering he was on the phone. “1pm would be great, thanks.”

You grabbed a pen and crossed out the 1pm slot. “Awesome. What’s the name I can put down for you?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

Steve was irrationally nervous for his haircut. Never mind the fact that he was risking, in his opinion, his best feature, but the thought of meeting you was annoyingly nerve wracking. The way your voice sounded over the phone was borderline angelic, and he could only imagine what kind of beauty you radiated in real life. Not to mention, you and him briefly walked the halls of Hawkins High at the same time, and he wondered if you were aware of his reputation back then. He couldn’t recall your presence, but then again, he had his head so far up his own ass that he didn’t recognize most people from high school.

He was so antsy that morning that he was ready to go by 11, leaving him to pace and try to find little things to keep himself busy. The second it hit 12:50, Steve was sprinting out the door, making it to the salon in a record 5 minutes.

The bell above the door rang as soon as he stepped in, alerting the few stylists and customers that were there of his presence. One of the stylists, an older, heavier set woman took a glance at him as she blow dried her client.

“Y/N!” She called towards the back of the salon. “Your 1 o’clock is here!”

A second later, a woman stepped out, who he could only assume was you. You emerged from a beaded curtain, a sight to behold. Steve felt his breath hitch and he tried to wipe the sweat from his hands on his jeans.

You weren’t doing much better. Of course you knew who Steve Harrington was. He’d been a year younger than you, but he’d quickly climbed the social ladder in school. Every party was a big deal when it was held at Steve’s house and if you were friends with him, you were automatically cool.

You hadn’t cared much about the social aspect of school, focusing only on passing your classes and playing DnD. It’s where you met Eddie, who had easily become your best friend. It had been upsetting when you found out he wouldn’t be walking the stage with you, but you’d been supportive of him ever since.

And like every girl, you’d had a crush on Steve Harrington. How could you not? He was a total dreamboat and you’d be crazy not to find him attractive. You’d always been able to push that desire to the back burner, considering your best friend was continuously labeled as The Freak and you certainly didn’t gain any popularity by being associated with him.

When Eddie told you that he’d befriended the former King of Hawkins High, you truly believed he was fucking with you. But he claimed that the man had changed; matured. He told you that Steve’s best friends were a senior girl who Eddie knew band from marching band and a freshman that was in Hellfire. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about this new man Steve Harrington had apparently become.

Oh, and that crush you had? Definitely still there. That much was evident by the dryness of your mouth that occurred the moment you laid eyes on Steve.

He was even more handsome than you remembered. Long legs clad in light blue Levi’s, polo shirt fitted nicely to his toned chest and big brown eyes looking back at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

Steve wished he remembered you. He couldn’t help but wonder if things had been different, would he have noticed you? He wanted to kick himself for not having. You were probably the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and he realized now that describing you as angelic didn’t do you justice. You were ethereal–otherworldly.

He could see why you and Eddie were friends. Your outfit was mainly made up of black articles with a few splashes of color here and there. Your makeup was dark, creating a contract between the black eyeliner and the color of your iris’s. You were stunning, to say the least.

“Hi!” You exclaimed breathlessly. The sound of your voice broke Steve from his jumble of thoughts, only making his brain fizzle further. Your voice was even sweeter in person. “Steve, right?” You asked, though you knew the answer.

Steve cleared his throat, nodding. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Y/N?”

You grinned so brightly it nearly made Steve’s heart stop in his chest. “That would be me. You can come sit at my station.” You said, patting the chair you’d stopped at.

He obeyed silently, taking a seat in the chair. You had to crank the lever a few times, lowering the height of the chair to accommodate for his large stature. You tried not to focus on the intoxicating smell of his cologne and he tried not to focus on your hands taking through his hair.

“So, what were we thinking of doing to your hair?” You asked, leaning your arms on the back of the chair.

Steve made eye contact with you through the mirror and hoped you couldn’t tell how red his cheeks were, because he definitely could. “Um, I was hoping to keep most of the length. Shorter on the sides, longer in the front?” He was really just spitting out words, hoping they made sense. Honestly, he was finding it difficult to focus on your question when he felt your fingertips on his scalp.

“So..we’re thinking Swayze but longer?” Steve’s jaw fell slack, staring at you in awe as you put his thoughts into words with incredible ease. You really did know what you were doing.

“Yeah, exactly.” He responded quietly, a little stunned.

You sent him that brilliant smile once again. “Cool.” You stared thoughtfully at his reflection, head tilted to the side. “Can I-could I suggest something? And you can totally say no, but I personally think it would look really good.”

Steve thought that you could ask him to commit arson and he’d say yes. “‘Course. What is it?”

You pulled a couple of strands around his face, trying to visualize your idea. “How would you feel about getting a little bit of highlights?”

His eyebrow cocked in questioning. “Highlights? Don’t only chicks get those?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a bit, and Steve’s stomach immediately dropped. He fucked up, he offended you, he–

“No, silly. There’s actually a lot of actors recently that have been getting them. It wouldn’t be any drastic, just a few streaks that would be a shade or two lighter than your natural color. I think it would compliment your skin tone, bring out your eyes.”

The boy found himself nodding before he really considered what you were telling him. “Yeah,” He blurted, realizing he had yet to give you a verbal response. “If you think so. I trust you.”

“Great.” You laughed. “I’ll get you mixed up.”

Steve didn’t know what that meant, but he did know that his haircut had now upgraded to a lengthier process, and he was just happy to have a reason to be around you longer.

As promised, you came back out a couple minutes later, using a brush that looked like a big fork and mixing up a gooey mixture in a bowl. You were quick to start slathering the light purple substance in his hair, carefully applying it to chunks that you had placed over a piece of foil. Each section was enclosed and folded into a little square.

“So what brings you to me? I know you said Eddie referred you, but guys aren’t usually very willing to go to a stylist rather than a barber.” You said.

Steve shrugged a little. “I had a barber before, but he retired and moved out of Hawkins. He’s the only one that’s ever gotten my hair exactly how I want it.” He blushed, reluctant to reveal the reason he’d agreed to be there. “My hair is kinda important to me, I didn’t wanna go to just any barber and risk them fucking it up. Eddie said you were great and I really just needed a haircut.” He explained.

You nodded understandingly, finishing up the last couple sections of his highlights. “I get that. Hair has always been really important to me too. Obviously.” You gestured around you. Steve laughed and you felt the sound bring a warmth to your chest. “It’s always been the easiest way besides my clothes to express myself. And it’s nice to have control over something as an adult when so much is out of your control.”

Your eyes met in the mirror once again, his big doe eyes staring deep into your soul with an understanding that only came from shared experiences. You didn’t know much about Steve’s home life, only what you’d heard during school. His parents were loaded but were often never home. As a teenager, that’s the best thing that could happen to you, but as an adult, you saw how that could get pretty lonely.

The time passed by far too quickly for either of your tastes. You and Steve hadn’t even noticed the time flying so quickly as you talked about anything and everything. It was crazy to think that this man, this sweet, charismatic, beautiful man, used to be a douchebag in high school.

Steve was in heaven as you washed his hair, not even bothering to hide his bliss as your fingers massaged the hair products into his scalp. He could die happy right now, he was sure of it. You held back a giggle as his eyes closed and a convent hum came from his throat. Not wanting to embarrass him, you refrained from commenting and continued your routine.

After a few cycles of shampooing and rinsing and conditioning and rinsing until Steve’s hair was clean and silky smooth, you shut the water off and gathered his hair in a little towel.

“Okay, all done. I’m just gonna blow dry your hair, style it a bit and you’ll be all set.” Steve couldn’t help the frown that appeared, not wanting your time together to end.

It seemed like you read his mind, commenting as you dragged a hairbrush through his brunette locks. “If you’re happy with how your hair came out, you can always come back for trims, o-or touch ups on your highlights.” You stuttered, smiling sheepishly and silently praying that he couldn’t tell how desperate you were to see him again.

“Yeah?” He asked. You nodded, biting your lip shyly as you refocused on his hair. You sat in a forced but comfortable silence as you blowdried his hair. Once it was all nice and fluffy, he watched as you poured a series of liquids into your palm, raking them through his hair. You messed with the strands for another few minutes, doing stuff he didn’t understand but somehow styling his hair exactly how he likes it.

He had to admit, you were definitely right about the highlights. They brought a brightness to his complexion that hadn’t been there before. He felt like he looked younger somehow, which was surprising, considering the kids he always hung around with made him feel like he was pushing 80 sometimes. He told you as such, reveling in the sweet sound of your laughter.

“Well, that’s my job. Just glad you trusted little ol’ me with your most prized possession.” The words came out teasingly. Steve grinned back at you through the mirror, shrugging slightly.

“Guess I owe Munson, huh?”

You agreed, guiding him back to the front to check him out. You typed something into the register at the counter. “Your total is gonna be $10.”

Steve’s eyebrows almost touched his forehead. “That’s it? For the haircut and the highlights?”

“Yeah, it’s with a discount. You are Eddie’s friend after all.” You were almost charging him just for the haircut, and Steve was not having it.

He frantically shook his head in protest. “No, no, Y/N. You don’t have to do that. I can pay you the full price, trust me.”

“Steve,” You chuckled, “It’s okay. I don’t give out many friends and family discounts, it’s not like I’m losing all that much money.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you challengingly. “Oh yeah? How much is the full price for highlights.”

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, reluctantly mumbling out the price, which was much larger than what you were asking. “Absolutely not. Charge me the right amount.” Steve was not about to leave and let you basically have a free service. Not when you worked so hard.

“I’ll just tip you the rest if you don’t.” He smirked, eyes peering at you fondly when you sighed in exasperation.

“It’s seriously fine. I offered the extra service, you don’t have to pay for it.”

A lightbulb lit up in Steve’s head, eyes shining at the obvious opportunity. He’d be an idiot not to take it.

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “At least let me do something to pay you back for it. A service for a service, huh? What do you say?”

The corners of your mouth tilted up, betraying your efforts to keep a serious face. Steve was clearly not backing down. “Okay. What’d you have in mind?”

A pink rose to Steve’s freckled cheeks. “Let me take you on a date?”

Your breath hitched. You certainly felt the tension between the two of you ever since he walked in, but you really weren’t expecting anything to come from it.

Steve took your silence as a negative reaction. “Or-I could do anything else. Doesn’t have to be a date, really. I could buy you lunch one day or-“

“I’d love to.” His big brown eyes snapped up to meet your in surprise.

“Really?”

You nodded gleefully, unable to keep your grin from growing. You could feel your cheeks beginning to ache with how much you were smiling.

“Okay.” He whispered, ducking his head bashfully. Steve quickly pulled his wallet out, handing you the 10 dollar bill.

It took less than a minute for you to input his money in, ripping the receipt that printed it. Before you could hand it to him, you grabbed a pen and scribbled something on it.

“My house number. Give me a call?” You asked in a hopeful tone.

“Definitely.” Steve grinned and you repressed the urge to swoon. He sent you a cute little wave, leaving you in the salon smiling like an fool. As soon as he was out the door, your fellow stylists squealed, crowding around you and demanding details.

Steve faintly heard the high pitched noise, smirking to himself. Sliding into the drivers seat of his BMW, he sighed happily. “Yeah, I definitely owe Munson.”

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@Cerbythepuppy

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add yourself to my taglist!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things

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thebucketpail · 11 months

Text

When You Accidentally Kill a Clown pt 8

Pt.1 pt.7 Ao3

By the time the dark knight slipped through Danny's window, they had just finished some late night Ramen (hey if they were going to face off against the Batman then they'd need something more than coffee cake from three hours ago in their stomach). It was clear that the Bat in question was doing his best at being sneaky, and to be honest, if Danny hadn't been expecting him: they would have been caught off guard in the least. However, as it were, Batman slipped silently into a well lit dorm and was met with a completely unimpressed college student.

Danny didn't even offer the man a second glance. It wasn't until the Bat cleared his throat to garner the boy's attention, that they finally pulled their gaze away from the Webb telescope livestream they had been watching.

"One second, this part's really cool," They said, turning the screen so the Bat could watch as a new image was displayed. Danny smirked a little at the man's quizzical grunt before they returned their full attention back the the livestream's host.

Danny paused the video just before the segment break and turned to Batman who had seemingly taken a much more relaxed stance as he watched the video with rapt attention.

"Told you it was cool," Danny smirked as they shut the laptop, shifting their position to face the Bat more directly whole maintaining their laid back -non threatening- demeanor. "Now what did you want to see me about? I assume it's about that clown I killed?"

"Hn," came the reply, "So it is true then? You killed the Joker?"

Danny narrowed their eyes. They had to play this right, the Batman was known to be quick to anger, afterall. And it wasn't like Danny hadn't anticipated and thought through this whole conversation on multiple occasions, it was just that they weren't best known for their planning, or tact, or thinking in general. -and maybe the bat was bit more intimidating in person-

"Yes," They found themself saying, drawing out the sounds to make more of a question than a statement. Then more surely, "Yes, I did cause the event that led to the clown's death."

___________

Bruce looked down at the kid I'm front of him, entirely aware of his status as a potential threat, yet also rather intrigued.

He was what his children tended to refer to as "adoption bait" The jet black hair, blue eyes, and ability to stare down Batman without even blinking, all set off Bruce's father instincts. Hell, instead of panicking that the Batman was in his dorm room, the boy had instead turned his laptop to continue watching a NASA livestream. All this coupled with the trauma from killing a person practically had the boy one leg into the robin costume already.

But first, Bruce had to assess the kid's threat level. It was clear from the footage he had managed to bribe out of Barbara, that the boy was a metahuman, a rather strong one at that if simply having been caught off guard managed to kill one of the city's most notorious killers. Of course, that was all the more reason to take him on as a ward. Better watched, better protected, -better controlled-.

Bruce was pulled from these thoughts as the boy closed the laptop, the video most likely having ended, and said something.

"Hn," Bruce responded, and began his questioning.

The boy admitted to killing the Joker, technically. But Bruce also took stock of the way he had worded his response, dancing around the subject as if to not outright say it.

"My sources say that you are a metahuman. What are your abilities?"

The boy scoffed, clearly building a facade of indifference to hide his anxiety. "Oh you know, plasma beams, density shifting, the works."

"Hn." The boy was hiding something. His power roster likely lengthier than he let on. The question was: whether Bruce should push or not. "Anything else?"

The boy made a show of thinking, exaggerating his movements as he rubbed at his chin. "Uuuuuuhhhhhhhh, not really no. I mean, I glow in the dark but that's not really something I like to advertise y'know? Like 'come see the human glowstick' amiright?"

That almost illicited a chuckle from the Drak Knight. *Almost*.

Last question, he thought before saying, "Are you a threat to this city?" Here Bruce wasn't really paying attention to the verbal answer as anyone one their right mind would answer to the the negative, but rather he was watching the boy's body language for a hint of darker intentions.

At the question the boy's facade dropped for a moment as if he had not been expecting that question, but it returned almost instantly with a grin akin to Jason's when he was younger. The thought made Bruce's stomach twist.

"No sir mister Batman sir!" The boy responded with a mock salute. "I promise that was a one-off thing and you won't have to worry about me any longer. Scouts honor."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, "You were a Scout?" That hadn't come up In the files.

"Nope," the boy said, emphasizing the p sound as he leaned against the wall. His face grew darker though, more serious, likely due to the frown on Bruce's own face.

"Genuine though, I promise I'm not here to cause trouble. I know you're still gonna keep tabs on me, or have Hood keep stalking me or whatever," Bruce narrowed his eyes, *Hood was stalking the boy?* "and I know you probably want me to join your furry brigade, but I'm really not interested in the vigilante stuff. Honestly I just want to get my degree and I'll keep my head down until then, promise."

Bruce didn't know how to respond to that, so he simply grunted to show he understood before heading back toward the window and slipping out.

He really hoped he wasn't making a mistake by trusting this kid.

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

Danny sighed as they flopped back down on their bed. *Ancients that was probably more stressful than it needed to be*. They laid there a moment longer, letting their nerves settle before they finally reopened their laptop. With any luck they could finish the vod before the adrenaline wore out and they crashed.

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

Wop wop

Danny and Jason's Date is next! I wonder if all will go as planned. We will see! Stay tuned

I love reading ya'll's thoughts so don't forget to comment/reblog

Joyous evening for all

Pt.9

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc #dp x dc crossover #batman #when you accidentally kill a clown #bucket writes things #fic #long post #batman interrogation time #bruce cannot avoid the adoption bait #adoption bait Danny fenton

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yetanothergreyjedi · 1 year

Text

Ghosts of Our Pasts: 8

DP x DC Crossover

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne sibling AU

Masterpost Previous Next

Ao3

Part 8

"I wasn't sure what colors were still free,"

"Tt, It is ridiculous." Damian needed to stop saying things on impulse. Even if the oversized construction-orange hoodie jacket was a monstity, everything he said sounded cruel. Everything was cruel, he was aware he was not a pleasant person. It had never seemed like a problem before.

But his brother took it in stride, just like all his brothers did. Danny grinned, "Exactly!"

"It will draw attention," Father warned, but in the resigned way most often heard when discussing Grayson's early decisions as Robin.

Danny shrugged, "I can handle that, but I'm not like, super attached to it though, if its a problem."

"It is not a problem. You're wearing pants."

"Oh?"

"Robin insisted."

"Oooohhh," Danny said, only... he was looking at Damian.

"Not me! That was Gra— the first Robin!"

"Are you sure, I remember a time when you and pants did not—"

"I am wearing pants!"

Dany made a show of considering this point before conceding. "You are wearing pants."

Damian did not grumble as he pulled a spare domino and Comm from his belt. He took a step forward to hand them off no too-quick movements, nothing that might be perceived as a threat. And Danny simply took the items, if his movements were equally choreographed he did not show it.

"Test, test?" The voice came clear through the comms. They ran the rest of the comm checks, everything came up clear.

Danny expectantly bounced on his feet, he was wearing worn sneakers not boots.

"This isn't a patrol." Father reminded them, then he looked to Danny "We may need to stop and handle something on the way. Don't feel obligated to join in."

"I haven't lost that—"

"I'm not discrediting your skills. Or saying you can't get involved. I'm asking you to take additional caution until we get you proper equipment."

There was a moment where Danny's mouth worked, the usual whiplash of being interrupted by someone who had accurately guessed your argument and addressed it before you finished the sentence. Then he responded, "Yeah, okay, makes sense."

A nod and then they were off. The route had been planned specifically so they wouldn't have to grapple until Danny had a proper harness. Damian didn't know exactly what Danny had said the night before that led to them leaping across rooftops, but he couldn't find himself suprised that Danny kept up with ease.

It was an inverse of a game they'd once played. Danny would run ahead to show the way, slowing so a younger Damian could learn the footing on his own. Only now it was Damian showing the path, and Danny attempting to reach the same place quicker or more efficiently. He melded into the shadows suprisingly well for someone dressed to meet OSHA safety standards.

As much as he had worried, this was a good idea.

---

This was a terrible idea. Danny reflected. He had no idea what was normal for an average human. He hadn’t stuffed himself so firmly into his flesh in ages, and trying to do that while leaping up buildings! Could normal humans jump this high? Should he be able to lift his weightlike this? Was the domino hiding the fact that his eyes were probably a fog light?!

His feet were too sure on uneven surfaces, his shoes were gripping far better than they should and he knew for a fact the shadows were clinging to him! He tried to tell Gotham to knock it off, but he couldn't do that without unfolding a bit and he was definitely gonna to do something inhuman if he did that!

Bio-dad was right behind him! He should've downplayed his skills more, should've just suggested they drive! But noooo, he'd wanted to run around Gotham's rooftops like a bat! He still wanted to, he just didn't know how to human!

It was so much easier back home, had he flown that last bit? Or had he caught a little gravity anomaly? Is he standing on a vertical surface as if it were the ground? Cool! Let's find the step that will let us do it too! Vanished from existence? Probably a portal, best avoid that area! Gotham was, while a bit more liminal than most places, was not going to hide his weirdness!

Crap, had he been breathing enough?

---

Neither of his children were out of breath. Bruce realized when he got to the top of the building. He was proud of them. But as they sprinted off across the next set of rooftops, he reflected that he was not as young as he used to be.

---

Danny stopped without warning. His shoes made the barest scrape on the ledge that alerted Damian to stop too. He was looking down towards an alley barely visible from their vantage point. Then Damian heard what Danny must have: a man's voice, demanding a purse.

Danny inclined his head, Damian nodded. As one they lept down.

He was a little insulted that the man noticed him first, instead of Danny who could only be more obvious if he was wearing reflectors. But he did notice Danny, and the crook for some reason decided Robin was the lesser threat.

Damian did not freeze up. But suprise made his actions waver, and it only took a second for the man to point his gun at his new target.

Less than a second to fire. Everyone was moving. The woman was running. The man was turning the gun Damian. Damian aimed his sword to disarm, because he had managed to retrain his instincts away from an automatic killing blow.

The gun toppled away. And before Damian could fear what the crook changing targets after firing might mean, Danny had the weapon pointed at the man.

The crook with a blade aimed at his throat and a gun pointed at his chest paled and raised his empty hands in surrender.

"Now what do we do?" Danny stage whispered to his brother.

Danny, realizing he can't suck the mugger into a soup thermos, and that human vigilanteism has so much more logistics to worry about:

The orange jacket is absolutely a reference to Haiju's sequel Shadow of a Doubt. Both Phantom of Truth and its sequel were a major part of me deciding to get into this Phandom, as well as part of the reason I write nowadays. So please check it out if you aren't familiar.

It's also a family thing for Danny, if he can wear both his dad's colors and his bio-dads symbol, idea makes the core go brrrr

Next one will be short one, because I find it super easy to set up lines that I feel close out chapters really well. And I couldn't just put more words after that! But it's already written, and so's the chapter after that, so I'll probably post it soon

Tag list!

@spectralstardustandphantomnights @avelnfear @idfk-man10 @blackroserelina @candeartist422 @mur-ururu @luer-mirin @insufferablecatenthusiast @skulld3mort-1fan @alonedustspeck @voidbornposts @meira-3919 @marshmello @aethernorwood @mimilikey @undead-essence @cloudminder @markus209 @everything163 @latheevening226 @roman4517 @moobloomrights @battybatbat @lumosfeather18581 @werv @ahyesanerd @pyramaniac @lexdamo @princessbelix @bun-fish @deeannthepan @edgyboi10000 @thatrandomsarahchick @busterkeel @aconitewolfsbane @spoopyspoony @bright-shade @spidey29phangirl @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @keimiwolf @u-a-wizard-jamie @gay-puff @bicerise @itshype @blackfoxsposts @icanneverdecide @lolottes @chubbypotato @jovialherringtacoghost @saltyladynightmare

#ghosts of our past #goop #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #grey writes

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senblades · 21 days

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hi! i love fftsr and i really enjoy the dynamics between everyone and their personas so i wanted to ask how you decided to characterise the personas/their dynamics and if you had envisioned how the other thieves interact with their personas as well?

sorry if this question is weird 😭 keep up the good work!!

interesting question...

(uhhh I didn't think this would happen with this question but SPOILERS FOR UP TO CHAPTER 46 OF FFTSR)

To be honest, the ony dynamic that I put a real degree of thought into is the Akechi & Robin & Loki dynamic- I wanted neither persona to be entirely good or rational, or one side representative of 'being evil' or whatever. Akechi's problem, is that his thoughts, feelings, and ideas so often contradict eachother, and he is entirely unable to reconcile that. So even when Robin and Loki do agree, Akechi is more likely to ignore them than take thier advice.

Of course, just because I didn't put too much thought into it doesn't mean I'm pulling all the other dynamics out of my ass lmao:

Sumire takes second place for "Persona who talks the most"- Ella, for the most part, is a supportive force that also isn't afraid to call Sumire on her bullshit. Whether or not Sumi listens is another matter entirely. This sort of stems from how Sumire's third awakening is her final resolve to stand on her own, to reject Maruki's reality despite all it could give her, to be unapolagetically Sumire for the rest of her life- So her persona is a force to remind her of that vow, when she starts slipping into her anxieties and her tendency for avoidance.

Haru doesn't get a lot of POV scenes, but her awakening was very fun for me to write. Since I've taken Haru in a direction that is distinctly angry, I wanted Milady's words to reflect that anger at her circumstances, and the need to break from it.

Ren doesn't chat with Arsene often enough for me to remember much of what he says HAHA- he doesn't have the same influence on Ren's character the same way that Akechi and Sumire's persona's do. When he does talk, however, it's usually to quip or be a smartass- a trait which I've quietly yoinked from how people tend to characterise Arsene/Shadow Ren- as, simply, the essence of Joker.

And, now that Ren has also resolved the whole Crow situation, his dynamic with Metatron is pretty much that Metatron is a forceful reminder of the kind of thinking that got Ren to make poor descisions in the first place. Metatron often speaks up any time that Ren tries to justify taking Maruki's deal, spoken with all the snark and fury of the real Akechi.

Most of the PT haven't had POV scenes, but Futaba and Makoto certainly have!

For Futaba, any time Necronomicon speaks up is usually when Futaba is trying to avoid something. Stemming from her awakening, Futaba's vow to never allow lies to decieve her again is reflected in her persona, and especially when she tries to decieve herself.

For Makoto- I actually can't remember if Johanna has spoken in a previous chapter, or if she's going to speak in an upcoming one, but Johanna's shtick also stems from Makoto's awakening. Makoto's vow was to not be trampled by authority, to ensure that she can be herself even in a society that aims to push her in a box. Johanna will speak up if Makoto is becoming complacent, if she tries to take the easy way out.

Uhh that's pretty much it! For the other PT's personas, I would similarly draw from their awakenings to decide what I would want them to say. For the most part, though, everyone's personas start getting chatty when their wielders aren't being true to themselves.

FUCK I FORGOt about Maruki. HAHA I wrote Azathoth as being a cryptic peice of shit, mostly. That kind of 'cult leader talk' is the kind of shit he pulls in canon, and I saw no reason to change that.

Shadow Maruki, on the other hand, is a more true reflection of the man himself- an echo of who he was in the original timeline. Shadows and personas are two sides of the same coin, but how they present themselves does vary. They're archetypes, rather than a 1:1 of their wielder's personality.

aaand that's all I got! ty for the ask! <3 <3 <3

#asks #persona 5 #fftsr #This was really fun to think about since I hadn't really thought about it before HAHA

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love-toxin · 2 years

Text

burn me down to ashes - steve harrington & billy hargrove

volume II

plot: shy, socially awkward little you, the resident nobody of Hawkins High, is caught between a rock and a hard place in the span of a day. the rock being Steve Harrington, the guy you've had a crush on forever and who just might like you back, and the hard place being Billy Hargrove--the guy who just can't seem to keep his eyes, or hands, off you.

cws: bullied!angelface, angel has low self-esteem/intrusive thoughts, 80s movie references, crushes, smoking, slight violence/roughousing, jealousy, drinking, angel makes friends, nicknames, angsty fluff but it goes up from here, non-canon character appearances, fem reader.

a/n: vol II coming soon! this is a longer fic i cut in half ♡

word count: 5.4k

You've never really thought there was anything wrong with you, at least not until you got into high school. The last four–five, now, since you had to repeat your last year–have been the most hellish years of your life.

You've been knocked around, had your books thrown in the fountain, your locker vandalized, your desk kicked by people walking by…every which way you could be tortured, you have. Even graduation served to be an opportunity for people to get their licks in, one of the girls that tortured you the most sticking her foot out when you went to walk the stage and tripping you in front of the whole school, resulting in a bellowing chorus of mocking laughter that you're certain you'll hear in your nightmares for the rest of your life.

But there's a life you've dreamed of, one you know you would never attain in this lifetime, but you fantasize about nonetheless. One where you're maybe not popular, or even liked, but one where you're at least protected. His name reads out in the scribbles at the margins of your notebook, and the smell of his cologne sticks in your mind and draws your thoughts to him whenever you pass by the scented section of the department store. Your protector, your saviour, at least in your mind–it's none other than Steve Harrington, the most popular guy in school and the one guy you know you would never have a chance with.

For one, he's widely adored–you wouldn't be able to work your way through all his fans if you tried, and most of them are far prettier, smarter, and more popular than you anyways. Two, Steve himself is objectively gorgeous, at least to you, and there's no way he would go for a…for someone like you, someone that looks or sounds or smells like you. Three, you don't even have friends, much less a relationship, so you really would have no idea what you were doing in the first place. Four, you can't even work up the courage to talk to him, or even look in his direction, even though you sat right next to each other all through chem class in your senior year and he asked to borrow your textbook on several occasions. And you now see him at Family Video at least once a week to rent a new movie. That's pretty much the extent of your interactions, and that's where the dream stops and real life slaps you in the face.

But it's on that day that you step into the store and hear excited chattering that you don't realize that might just change, Robin and Steve exchanging words and gestures that look like they're trying to agree on something.

"Welcome to Fa–oh, hey! You're just in time!" Robin waves to you as you walk in, dropping the corporate greeting the second her eyes meet yours. She's always been so nice to you, kind in a way you feel like you don't deserve, but it would be impossible to try and convince her otherwise so you simply go along with whatever she says. You're not really sure how else to be friends…if that's even what you are. Maybe, maybe not. It's a little difficult for you to figure out, even though you desperately want to call Robin your friend. She leans over the counter on her elbows as you walk up, and pats her hands on it as she bounces on the balls of her feet, clearly excited about something.

"You wanna go to a house party with me? Harrington here is chickening out last minute, and I really don't want to go alone."

"I'm not chickening out! I just don't want to hang out with a bunch of dickheads I knew in high school." Steve huffs, certainly because knowing them they've been arguing about it for a while before you stopped by, and he looks so good today, even though you say the same to yourself every time you see him. His hair is a little crazy from him running his hands through it, but it still looks good, fluffy, like every sway of his locks is intentionally beautiful and not accidental.

"I've never been to a house party before! I want the full, uninterrupted experience." You're not even thinking straight when you're distracted by him, and find your mouth running before you can catch it.

"Me neither, um…it sounds like fun, though. I'll go." You say rather meekly, some part of you wondering perversely if Robin's lips will stretch into a smirk as she reveals that she was just teasing, and how dumb do you have to be to think anyone would actually invite you to a party?

"Really? Sick, I don't feel so alone now!" She does a little victory dance, celebrating her triumph with a few fist pumps and the sound of her shoes clacking against the linoleum behind the counter. Safe. Everything is safe, now, you're sure, and you take a deep breath to try and steady your thumping heart.

"Well…okay, if you're both going, I'll come with you." Steve tightens his arms, still crossed over that broad chest that you've only ever seen in its full glory during those basketball games you've snuck out of class to go watch.

"Wow! Changing your mind on a dime just cause Buttercup is coming–I feel like chopped liver, seriously!" She's joking, but it still flusters you. "Buttercup" is one of the few nicknames they've dubbed you with, on account of how many times you've rented out The Princess Bride since they've started working there. As far as you know you're their most frequent customer, so it's somewhat of a game for them to find movies you haven't seen that you might like–and to be brutally honest, it's about the fullest extent of any friendship you have. "Alright, alright, Stevie, you can come keep us safe. But don't you dare be a buzzkill!"

Robin turns back to you after prodding Steve in the chest, and her eyes are brighter than they were before. Even if the realization of what you just agreed to is only hitting you now, and the anxiety is slowly starting to creep in, the fact that you made her so happy by saying yes is all that's keeping you on your feet right now.

"Just come by after we close and we'll drive you there, okay?" You nod in agreement, and that's when Robin climbs up and slides herself across the counter, dropping down beside you on the other side to wave you over to the rows of shelved movies. "Now, what movie are we going with this week? Romcom, horror?"

You place the VHS on the counter, just as pristine as when you picked it up. The Breakfast Club is always a classic for you, you'd watched it a couple times over the week–you always tend to see yourself in Ally, while you see so much of Steve in Andrew, which might be why you've watched it so many times with your pillow hugged to your chest, your eyes glued to the screen. Somehow, though, the sight of John parading around the library tables always stirs something within you, something that reminds you of someone you know, but can't put your finger on.

Either way, you shake the thought from your head as you follow Robin down the aisles, her steps more of a skip as she saunters towards the newer tapes on the New Release rack. She picks up one after the other and chitters on about each one, which ones she thinks are bogus and which ones are diamonds in the rough–but your gaze keeps drifting back to Steve at the counter, his hips pressed against it as he leans back and steadies himself with those smooth, toned biceps, and fiddles with the tape you dropped off…and you have to force yourself to look away, to not meet his eyes when you feel them turn towards you, and focus back on your friend as your mind runs wild with thoughts about tonight.

When the time comes, it's very clear when you move through the front door that you don't belong here.

Hours after picking up your newest movie-The Neverending Story–you're trailing behind Steve and Robin with a new dress you picked out weeks ago and a bit of makeup smeared awkwardly over your eyes. You've never been sure how to do it, but Robin made a point of commenting on how cute you look when you slid into the backseat of Steve's car, so it at least calmed you down a little bit before you got there.

Bodies are packed in everywhere, laughing, talking, drinking. Further into the house you spot a living room down the hall, where the music is loudest and people are dancing so close together they almost look like one full unit. People are stumbling to and from each room with solo cups filled with coloured drinks, most of them drunk already–and you find yourself trying to stick close to Robin, except that she and Steve are hurrying down the hall to go talk to someone they know, and beckoning you after them. There's no going back now, especially since you'll have to walk home if you try to leave alone. And after what happened last time you did so, you just have to swallow the lump in your throat and start putting one foot in front of the other.

You move stiffly down the hallway they had weaved through, people leaning against the walls and moving in groups with their friends to get more drinks or migrate towards the dancing area. Alone, you feel like too many unfamiliar eyes are drawn towards you, you know you must stick out like a sore thumb–but there's one face you recognize, and it immediately makes you regret ever choosing this hallway to work your way down.

Billy Hargrove leans against the wall by his arm, jacket open to reveal a white wifebeater and a packed chest that must be an absolute nightmare to face in a fight, many of which you know he's been in. He's got such a reputation, despite not being in Hawkins for too long, and he was even present at the infamous Starcourt Mall fire–that in itself is evident by the burn scars you can see peeking out from the sides of his leather jacket. Some girl is flirting with him, or trying to, because he looks like he's not paying much attention. You don't even realize it's the girl that tripped you at graduation until you get close enough to sidle past them, but that's unfortunately close enough for Billy to lock eyes with you and stand up off the wall.

"Hey, pretty girl. I don't think we've been introduced." He turns completely towards you, fully engaged, and holds out a hand to you with half-lidded eyes. Thinking about it for more than a few seconds, which is about how long it takes for you to realize that he's actually talking to you, the thought that he must be drunk crosses your mind and your shoulders tense a little bit. He frightens you, and you know he has a temper even at the best of times–you don't even want to know what he might say or do if you piss him off. So you shut your mouth and tremble as you place your hand delicately into his, hoping nothing terrible comes out of the conversation, especially when the girl's eyes are burning a glare into you. Vanessa, you're sure her name is, even though you've tried so hard to forget it. "Billy. You can call me whatever you want, though."

"Hi…uh, I think we've met before." He squeezes your hand, not hard, just an inkling of pressure. The desire to reach out and grab those words to shove them back into your mouth is so strong, but you can't, and your chest tightens so much you might just collapse right then and there. But Billy, on the contrary to what you think he might do, just smiles enough that you can see a glimpse of those pearly teeth past his plush lips.

"I can't believe that," He winks, his thumb rubbing the the heel of your hand before he finally lets it go. Is he…is this what flirting really is? It feels like it's too much like the movies, but you've really got no frame of reference since you have no experience yourself, so you truly have no idea. Including whether he's being facetious or not. "I would've remembered a gorgeous girl like you. Or, more like, I wouldn't have forgotten you. No matter how hard I tried."

Now you're stuck. Dreaded small talk. You can't believe he's doing anything but trying to fuck with you, especially with Vanessa standing right next to both of you, so that's just how you end up thinking about it. But you would be such a liar if you thought his comments didn't raise a heat to your face that must be obvious even under your touch of makeup.

"Um…I, uh…we were…calculus partners.." You're trying to get it all out fast so you can try to catch up to Steve and Robin again, but the words just strangle themselves when they leave your mouth, much like any time you try to speak to someone you're not comfortable with.

"No shit," He breathes. "I do recognize you." He says it in a way that feels more sincere than anything else he's said leading up to this. "You've really changed since then. Really…filled out that figure. Or maybe this is the first time I'm seeing you in clothes like that. You look great."

Billy's eyes roam unapologetically, drinking you in from feet to forehead and every spot in between. It doesn't feel right to be looked at in such a way, it feels perverse–not like how a partner or a love interest would do it, but more like the creepy older men that try to pick you up when you're walking home from work. Even though Billy is far from that, and he's actually a little nicer than you thought he was, it just feels wrong for you to be looked at that way. Because you're not pretty, and you're not special. You're not the type of person that people look at like they want to see you naked, and treasure you while they do so. Not like how Billy's looking at you now, until something seems to strike him that makes him finally pipe up.

"Wasn't that the class that the ginger kid pulled your hair in?" He's right, and it couldn't be more humiliating for him to remember that above all else. Sam Dunner had grabbed your ponytail in third period calculus and yanked it hard, hard enough to sting, and earned himself a cacophony of laughter when you shrieked that you felt, at the time, would be the soundtrack to your entire life. Billy had been out that day, maybe sick, maybe late–but regardless, he hadn't been there to say a word and you had always figured he wouldn't. Up until now, at least, when you nod and mumble a quiet "Yes", and his brow furrows.

"That reminds me, actually." Billy turns to the girl he's been ignoring up until now, her face lighting up when he finally looks down at her. You're surprised she's kept quiet up until now.

"Vanessa, weren't you the one that tripped this nice girl at graduation?" What he says, and the way he says it, renders you completely shocked. You could never imagine talking to someone like her like he just did, because you know she would chew you up and spit you back out for all her friends to laugh at. But evidently Billy is a lot different, because she starts visibly floundering with a stutter when he calls her out right in the open.

"Y-Yeah, so? It was a joke. It was just…in good fun." She recovers quickly if nothing else, and says it with smug venom flicking off her tongue, and you just want to disappear so that she never looks at you with that expression again.

"I think you owe her an apology, actually." He leans into her ear and says it so quietly, almost gently, that your eyes widen as you wonder whether you actually heard that right.

"Are you serious? It was a joke, it's not my fault she got all upset."

"I'm dead fucking serious. Now, why don't you apologize, before I get really pissed off." The tension you feel between them would break a butcher's knife.

"O-Okay! I'm sorry, like…I'm sorry. Jesus." She mutters that last part under her breath.

"That was pathetic, but whatever. Get out of my face." She huffs in frustration but does as he says, pushing past you and knocking shoulders in a way that's definitely intentional–but for you, it's so much of the norm that it doesn't even really faze you. You also don't catch the harsh glare he shoots at the back of her head either, since it disappears as soon as you turn to look at him again and he's pulling out a cigarette from a pack with his teeth.

"You wanna puff, sweetheart?" He reaches into the pocket of his jacket to produce a lighter, but you're quick to shake your head as he cups a hand around the end and lights it up.

"N-No, I have to…get back to my friends. Um, thank you."

"Not a problem, princess. Anyone else gives you problems, you just come to me, mkay?" He winks at you over his burning cigarette, enthused over the way you trip over your words in front of him. You just nod, pseudo-politely, and move to take a step away.

"That's my girl." He breathes out a puff of smoke as he says it, eyes following you until you've moved into the main living room and presumably out of sight. It's a little dizzying when you finally get there, the familiar thumping beat of Love Shack resonating through the walls as you shuffle into what feels like a whole other world.

"Buttercup! Thought we lost you back there." Your one and only friend's voice rises above the crowd as she spots you, and she strolls over to rescue you from the rest of the party. Robin's smile lighting up when she takes hold of your hand soothes you at once, and you breathe deeply as she pulls you along to a more open area of the house where Steve and two other people are standing and chatting.

"Oh, hi! Is this your new friend?" Once she turns to look at you, you recognize both her and the guy standing next to her immediately. The brunette is Nancy Wheeler, one of the most popular girls when you were in school besides being Steve's ex-girlfriend. And standing next to her–

"I know her," Jonathan Byers cuts in, a soft smile tweaking his lips as he waves in your direction. "She and I were in gym together freshman year."

It does come as a surprise that he remembers, but then again, if anyone would, it would be Jonathan Byers. You two were famously bad in your class, constantly being overlooked by the more athletic students and criticized for your pathetic performance in any and all sports by the coach. But your saving grace had been that you were terrible together, even though you were both shy and socially awkward freshmen who could barely talk to each other, much less anyone else. He's the only other one that was really reaching the same level of an outcast as you in school, aside from the infamous Eddie Munson, whom you've only spoken to a handful of times when you've seen him at Family Video but has been one of the few to treat you with familiarity and kindness….two things you rarely find with people your age.

"Really? I feel like I should remember you…did we have any-?"

"No, uh, no we didn't." You don't have the heart to tell her you sat behind her in biology for two years straight, because she seems like a nice girl and you know it'll just make her feel bad and turn the conversation into an awkward mess. So it's easier just to avoid it. And it's already difficult for you to imagine her and Steve…it just hurts, even though it shouldn't. If they didn't last, what chance would you ever have?

"Aw, well, it's really nice to meet you! Steve's told me so much about you, so has Robin. You're a movie buff, huh?"

"I-I…yeah, I like movies."

She's so pretty that it's honestly kind of intimidating, not to mention you're stood in the same circle as not just four other people, but four very cool and charismatic people. You've got no chance, especially with Steve being one of those four, and so you know you just want to say as little as possible to minimize the inevitable embarrassment. But it soon becomes very apparent that you're just destined to be the center of attention.

"Like? She's seen like, every movie in existence." Robin backs you up, maybe intentionally or not, and the way she gushes about you makes you want to hide…but not in the bad way. It's flattering, genuinely flattering. Not something you're all that used to, at all. "She just dropped off Breakfast Club today. Classic."

"Ooh! Who's your favourite?" Nancy looks back at you, sincerity in her eyes. She really is so pretty.

"U-Um…An..Andrew…I like Andrew." That's not entirely a lie, but it also serves as a convenient enough answer to avoid drawing suspicion.

"I, uh, I like Ally." Steve pipes up from nowhere, shoulders shifting as he readjusts his jacket.

"I'm surprised you're not a Molly Ringwald fan, Steve." Jonathan pipes up, and Steve shakes his head with a laugh, but his eyes stick to yours and they don't flicker away this time. And he nibbles his lower lip between his teeth, bites down–oh, he bites down, and suddenly nothing that anyone else says makes it to your ears as you stop and stare. A warm feeling stirs within you, like the words you want to say are bubbling up to your throat–

"C'mon, let's dance! I love this song!" But before they have a chance to come out, Robin's tugging you by the hand over to the dance floor, leaving the other three looking on at the two dorks who have no idea how to function at a party. Robin pulls you to the center of the crowd and giggles as you shyly stick close to her, allowing her to take your other hand too and move them around as the two of you bounce along to the rhythm. You don't really know what you're doing, and neither does she, but the more you realize that nobody is really looking aside from the two of you at each other, it slowly becomes easier and easier to just let the beat move you and a smile to work its way on to your face as Robin twirls you around and laughs free-spiritedly. Song after song comes and goes, you occasionally get a glimpse of Steve watching you through the throng of people–and he looks like he's smiling. Some small, selfishly hopeful part of you prays he's smiling at you.

When you finally tear your eyes away and turn back, Robin's gone. Glancing around to try and find her, you only then distantly remember her speaking in your ear just loud enough over the music that she was gonna go get a drink, but you should've been paying more attention–without her around, you feel small, and scared again. Someone bumps you hard with their elbow and you squeak at the pain in your side, someone else cursing at you for bumping into them in the process, and once you have a chance after that you're slipping through the crowd to get out of the most concentrated area of people. And when you do, you still don't see her, not over by the kitchen or out by the front door.

You can't spot Robin over the crowd you just wormed your way out of, can't really see anyone with so many people in one place. Somebody jostles you as they shove past, and in the heat of the moment, the only option you have is the guy standing just a few feet away, who just pushed his way past a few people in his way–the one you've been too mortified to try and talk to one on one since you were fourteen years old.

"Steve?"

"What's up?" He's strangely alert, focused completely on you like nothing else about the party exists.

"I'm gonna walk home, I…I just need to go home."

"Already? Are you alright?" It's a little shocking to hear that, and to see how concern spells out across his pretty features as he reaches to touch your arm–your arm.

"I'm…I-I'm fine, I just…it's a little too much for me. I don't.." You can't get the words out. I don't belong here. They feel too painful to say in front of someone you admire so much, and you pull away from his touch despite wanting it so badly.

"Aw…okay, wait by the back door, I'll go tell Robin and I'll drive you home."

"It's fine. I'll walk." You're saying it as you're already heading towards the open back door, one that's sliding glass that leads out to the grassy backyard, because you'd much rather dart around the side of the house than fight your way back through to the front door. Plus, you seriously need a breath of fresh air right now. You've got no idea that he's hurrying after you, and has a full view of what's waiting for you when you get out the door.

The second you step out into the cool, airy night, the sloshing shhhh sound of running water hits your ears–and then it hits the rest of you, a spray of freezing cold water crashing into your whole body and catching you completely off guard. The grass beneath you is slippery, and you stumble back and hit the ground hard on your spine, and they're still spraying you with what feels like a fire hose of water with a cackling symphony of laughter until Steve's voice rises above the crowd.

"Hey! Knock that shit off!"

The tidal wave stops and leaves you shaking only when the garden hose drops from your ex-classmate's hands, and that's because Steve's grabbed hold of it and ripped it from his grasp before shoving him, his face so red with anger like you've never seen before. But it doesn't stop the laughing of the crowd gathered around, all of them clearly having waited for the perfect victim to come out to pull their little prank–and each and every face you recognize as someone who at one point tortured you in school.

It takes you one try, then another to get up, still shaky and cold from the water and trying not to slip on the wet grass–but when you do get to your feet you stumble out of the lit area of the yard and around the side of the house, tears welling in your eyes as they laugh even louder and jeer at you with mocking insults that make the sting of humiliation burn even harder. You just want to run as far away as you can, away from the house, the people, from Steve–he must think you're such an idiot–but you hit another wall, although this one catches you in two strong arms before you fall again.

"Hey–princess? Why are you soaked?"

It's the last person you want to see right now, the most likely guy in the entirety of Hawkins to mock you for your current state. But Billy's got confusion and concern written all over his face even so, his voice laced with something a little more…strained.

"Tell me what happened." The cigarette he must have come out to smoke dangles haphazardly from his lips, but he lets it fall and mindlessly grinds it into the dirt when he actually notices it does. Otherwise, his eyes are completely centered on yours.

"I wanna go home," You sniffle.

"Are you crying?" He pulls you into his arms, uncaring as to the fact that you're drenched and freezing. He seems more attentive towards warming you up. And he is warm.

"Who did this to you?"

"I d-dunno his name…"

"Describe him. Where is he?" You point weakly towards the back of the house, still sniveling like a crying baby. You can hear a voice in your head telling you to suck it up, that you're just trying to get attention. That you deserved that.

"Wait here." Whatever words you want to say can't squeeze around the lump in your throat. You just turn your eyes down as Billy steps around you, gait heavy and purposeful as he marches towards the back and collides with someone, yet doesn't stop.

"Watch it, man–hey! There you are," Steve's voice reaches you, but doesn't, at the same time. You don't even turn to look, just stand there staring at the grass and feeling the tears fall and hit the ground as he hurries over and moves in front of you to grip your shoulders.

"Oh, god, honey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You brusquely wipe the tears away with your sleeve, and soon you have your arm pinned to your chest as Steve tugs you into his arms and squeezes you so tight against his shoulder.

"Shit, you're cold–come on, let's go inside and warm you up-"

"No!" You push against his chest, and he leans back but doesn't let go, hands loosely holding you still. Your voice is strong but your touch is weak, at least too weak to get away from him. "I don't want to, Steve! I don't want them to laugh at me! I'm fucking sick of it!"

He's struck speechless. You've ruined it all, just like always. Just like you and everyone else in the world knew you would. Stupid, you're so goddamn stupid.

"Then…Then let's not go through the house." He pulls you closer to the side of the house, near the edge of the roof–a sturdy, box-shaped pressure meter serves as the perfect thing for him to step up on, and when he pulls you up with him he clasps his hands together once he's close enough the the edge of the roof jutting out from the first floor. "Here, step on my hands. Climb up–but be careful!"

You don't have the energy to argue with him. And you don't want to subject yourself to anyone else seeing your tears, since you're sure that more of your bullies will be lying in wait near the front of the house to hurt you even worse. But sometimes, you hate how stubborn Steve can be, even as he's lifting you up to climb on to the roof and out of the way of more danger. Once you're kneeling on the tiles, he hauls himself up alongside you with a few groans of effort, before carefully moving towards the window that overlooks the rooftop and yanking it up and open. He ushers you to climb inside and drops inside after you, and once it's closed, you find yourself standing in some stranger's bedroom.

"Steve, we shouldn't be-" He hurries past you and turns his head to raise a finger to his lips, his hand shooting out to twist the lock to the bedroom door. And to make doubly sure that you won't be encroached on, he takes the chair sitting at the desk against the wall and props it underneath the door handle, ensuring that it's properly snug before he sighs in relief.

And now, against all odds, you're standing in a stranger's bedroom at a house party with Steve Harrington. Soaking wet, cold, and cheeks still tearstained from your outburst, wondering what in the world is going to come next–aside from more heartbreak.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #harringrove x reader #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #5k

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