Steve Harrington x fem!reader who he calls accidentally [1.9k words]
prompt: I called the wrong number and started talking about my life and you only interrupted me after a few minutes of me revealing some pretty personal stuff and now you're invested in my life troubles
find part two here
CW: swearing, Steve feeling particularly sorry for himself, reader and Steve know nothing about D&D and neither does the writer, no mention of upside down stuff, fluff/crack
Steve lets the door slam shut behind him with a resounding thud; the cavernous, lifeless space echoing the evidence of his loneliness.
He takes a moment — the briefest of things — to thank his pretentious, asshole of a father for his foresight on buying the most technologically advanced cordless phone [“we’re the first house on the block to own one, Steven”], because this is a pacing matter.
He barely pauses to hiss in pain – clipping his hip on the corner of the island – as he blindly dials Robin’s number on his quest for the fridge, ripping it open to expose a whole lot of nothing.
“Add that to the list,” he mutters into the barren fridge as he tucks the phone between his ear and shoulder to reach for the carton of orange juice.
The line is ringing as he operates off of muscle memory, reaching for the cupboard for a glass and hesitating when he realizes that he lives alone and he bought the damn orange juice himself; he can drink straight from the carton without anyone here to snap at him for it.
But the spout is nearly to his lips when he remembers seeing Lucas doing the very same thing from this exact carton not two evenings ago and decides to ultimately reach for that glass instead.
Steve’s just taking his first sip when the line stops ringing, hardly an inquisitive “hello?” uttered before he launches into a soliloquy.
“I’m gonna kill him, Rob. I mean it; Henderson’s ass is grass the next time I see him. You know what he said to me today? Let me tell you what he said to me. That twerp had the nerve to hitch a ride from me to RadioShack; said he needed some shit for whatever nonsense he’s up to in that mad scientist lair of his. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he spends probably twenty-seven minutes-” not quite, it was more like nine, which is still an absurd amount of time, thank you very much “-chatting up the employee at check out like Dustin himself was getting paid to do it before turning to me – to me, Rob! - and asking for the $17.50 that the bill came up to.”
Steve scoffs. “Said I owed him from the arcade last week. As if I owed him seventeen-fif- Robin, in what world would I ever spend seventeen-fifty at an arcade? Whatever, fine. I gave him the cash for his purchase mostly so I could get the hell out of geek-city only to learn that I had to drive the kid to Eddie’s. Turns out they were having another one of their stupid game nights- no, sorry, campaigns. And you know what?”
Steve shifts the phone from one shoulder to the other before hoisting himself up onto the kitchen counter, feet swinging back and forth and hitting the lower cabinets with hollow thump, thump, thump’s.
“I owed him from the arcade last week? What about the fucking gas money from the past, like, four years of driving those kids around the entire town? If anything, I should start charging them, plus interest! As if I didn’t just get home to my empty house to open my empty fridge because those twerps ate all of my food, and I can’t even drink the orange juice straight from the goddamn carton like the heathen I am because one of those heathens did the same damn thing just the other day! Unbelievable.
“So we get to Eddie’s, right? Which is bad enough because it’s, like, a giant nerdfest. But I figure I don’t have anything better to do, you know? So, I went to get out of the car and Dustin hurriedly thanked me for the ride. So now I’m sitting there in my car like a total loser basically banned from a geek-off that I didn’t want to be a part of anyway, thinking…what the hell?”
Steve slides off the counter before taking practiced steps along the tiles of his kitchen; routes well carved into every odd tile from many-a-phone calls before.
“Apparently” Steve continues, flinging his hand away from his head as though pointing to some invisible answer to his dumbfoundedness “Eddie says I’m not allowed to join their campaigns anymore because I can’t get their, fuckin’, I don’t know, lingo right. But hey! I just used campaign right, didn’t I? And I mean, what the fuck is a druid? Do you know, Rob? Does anyone know what a druid is? But apparently I have no respect for the art of D&D and bring the vibes down. Whatever that means.”
Steve lets out a sigh as he leans against the same edge of the kitchen island that left the bruise quickly blooming along his hipbone. “And listen, I know what you’re going to say, alright? Maybe if I didn’t immediately call them a bunch of nerds when I stopped understanding what the hell was going on, I would be invited to game ni- campaigns. But everyone’s pretty quick to call me a dingus when I stop understanding too, okay? So, maybe, we shouldn’t be judging the student but rather the teachers, alright? Some Dungeon Master Eddie is; can’t even teach a reformed jock how to play Dungeons and Dragons.”
He’s officially muttering now, Steve can hear it with his own ears. He groans and continues pacing.
“I don’t even want to play Dungeons and Dragons, Rob. Not really, I mean…I mean sometimes it's nice just to watch Max rip Mike a new one every once in a while, you know? And I mean, I like pizza…and candy…and there’s always pizza and candy there.”
The line is dead silent on the other end, completely out of character for Robin though Steve assumes she’s simply letting him run his course on his current temper tantrum. God only knows how many of Robin’s own temper tantrums that Steve’s sat through; the woman sort of owes him at this point.
“Oh my God, Rob. It’s a Friday night and I’m whining that I’ve been – not only uninvited, which would be bad enough, honestly, but – banned from Dungeons & Dragons night- Jesus Christ, the fall from grace is brutal. No wonder you guys are always laughing at me.” He rubs a rough palm across his face. “King Steve did not fall off the throne, he was torn from it and the descent has been brutally humbling. Holy shit.”
And then, Steve hears sniffling. No, snickering; he’s being laughed at.
“Alright, alright. That’s real nice, Rob. Kick the man while he’s down; classy.”
“No, I-” more giggling “-I’m sorry. I- oh my God, seriously? All of this over Dungeons & Dragons?”
That’s…that’s not Robin. That’s not Robin at all.
“I’m- you’re not- who are you?” Steve manages, rubbing at his chest which – now that he’s taken a moment to breathe – feels raw.
“Well, I don’t know! You called me,” you snicker on the other end of the line. Steve’s nodding at you as though you might be able to see him trying to play it cool now that he’s just made an entire fool of himself.
“Right, right, yeah. ‘Course, yeah. But- shit, yeah. I’m sorry I- I must’ve dialled the wrong number, uh, you know, in my…uh, fuck, in my…haste.”
“Haste!?” You all but squeal in excitement. “Oh this just gets better and better; what other words do you have in your vocabulary, king Steve.”
“Okay, alright. I’m hanging up now,” Steve threatens half-heartedly, resigning himself at your bubbly beggings of no, no, no.
“I’m sorry, honest,” you placate. “That sounds rough.”
Steve sucks in a breath as he runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah? You sound real sympathetic. Which part read as particularly rough to you?”
“Awe, come now, Steve. No man should come home to an empty fridge.”
“Right!?” Steve grabs hold of your tiny olive branch and gives it a shake, desperate for whatever crumbs of pity might fall upon him; he’s feeling particularly pitiful tonight. “I stocked that fridge like three days ago, babe-” the epithet falls from his lips involuntarily when he realizes he doesn’t know your name. Alas, he’s already embarrassed himself enough tonight, he’s not going to dwell on misnomers this far into his spiral “-there should at least be a block of cheese for me to, like, grate or something.”
“For dinner?”
“For something.” Steve agrees begrudgingly. This fall from grace…
“Well that’s just not right at all,” you tsk. “And after being banned from D&D at that.”
Steve merely groans.
“By the way, a druid is a nature-based spellcaster with shapeshifting abilities.”
Steve groans again. “Oh God, you’re one of them.”
Your laugh is bright and sharp. “Not quite. I visited family for Thanksgiving and my younger cousin has a new, very intense special interest. It’s all I heard about.”
“And you listened?” Steve asks in disbelief, sinking into his sofa as he wonders what kind of magic you wield in order to avoid going cross-eyed as nerds rant about their magic board game.
“Well, it beat listening to my uncles talk politics.”
The two of you share a commiserative hum of agreement.
“I’ll tell you what, Steve,” you say, and Steve finds himself sitting up in anticipation of what you might tell him. He wonders if it’s terribly weird to like the way his name sounds from your lips; he doesn’t even know yours yet. “I’ve got a book called Advanced Dungeons & Dragons Players Handbook-”
“You’ve got a book?”
“Well, of course,” you say as though that makes perfect sense. “It was what my cousin gifted all of us for Christmas.”
Steve hums as though that clears everything up.
“You’re, uhm-” you hesitate, and Steve finds himself leaning further into the phone as though you’re sharing a secret with him “-you’re welcome to- well…I could lend you my book, if you’d like.”
Steve can’t help it, he laughs. Not at you, but at the thought of the first book he picks up after (barely) graduating high school being one about Dungeons and Dragons. “Thanks, but…I’m not- well, I’ve never been very studious.”
“Okay fine,” you proclaim, apparently having come to some conclusion, “we’ll study together, then.”
“Together?”
“Right.”
Steve laughs again. “You’d sit with a stranger and study Dungeons and Dragons with him just so he gets unbanned from future campaigns?”
“Well, sure. Plus, I mean…I kind of need to study for Easter, you know? Timothy’s going to expect me to have put in at least some time with his Christmas present.”
“Right, right. We wouldn’t want to offend Timothy,” Steve agrees.
“Exactly.”
“I mean, he put a lot of thought into that gift for you.”
You laugh again, and Steve’s sitting on his couch smiling like an idiot.
A few beats of silence pass between the two of you before you eventually break it. “Don’t worry, King Steve-” he groans at the use of his high school nickname. “-we’ll have you D&D royalty in no time.”
“Okay, well, I don’t need to be royalty, just, like, invited would be nice.”
“Consider it done,” you declare. “It’s officially my New Year’s resolution to get Steve invited to future campaigns.”
Steve eventually ends the call with a girl’s phone number, a girl who now has his phone number, plans to meet up tomorrow after his shift for his very first D&D study session, and a spring in his step as he moves to actually call Robin this time; he has some bragging to do.
Danny flopped onto his bed, phone in hand, glaring at the screen. Another long day of dealing with Vlad's manipulative nonsense had left him frustrated beyond belief. He opened his messages, found the contact labeled Trucker, and began furiously typing.
Danny: You will NOT believe what Plasmius did this time. The absolute NERVE of this guy. You’d think being half-dead would make someone LESS petty, but nooo, this man’s ego is bigger than the Ghost Zone.
Danny: He tried to "buy" my parents' company AGAIN. He offered to “help” with ghost containment tech but really just wants to snoop around for weaknesses in the portal.
Danny: AND he had the audacity to call me “Little Badger” like it’s a term of endearment. I swear, if I hear that ONE MORE TIME, I might go full ghost and dropkick him into the Fenton Thermos.
Satisfied with his venting, Danny tossed his phone onto the bed and buried his face in his pillow. Unbeknownst to him, he had made one critical mistake.
Jason Todd, aka Red Hood, was sitting in his safe house, polishing his guns when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.
Unknown Number: You will NOT believe what Plasmius did this time…
Jason raised an eyebrow. “What the hell is this?” he muttered, scrolling through the tirade. By the time he got to “Little Badger”, he was smirking.
He typed back:
Jason: Kid, I think you’ve got the wrong number. Unless this “Plasmius” guy is a Gotham villain I’ve somehow missed.
Danny’s phone buzzed, and he rolled over to check it. His heart dropped when he saw the reply.
Danny: Oh no. This isn’t Trucker, is it?
Jason: Nope. But you’ve got my attention. Who’s Plasmius, and why does he sound like the type of guy I’d shoot on principle?
Danny hesitated, then decided to just roll with it.
Danny: Short version: he’s a half-ghost fruitloop billionaire who’s obsessed with ruining my life, becoming my creepy stepdad, and taking over the world. Think Lex Luthor but undead and ickier.
Jason burst out laughing, earning a curious glance from Roy Harper, who had just walked in.
“Who’s got you laughing like that?” Roy asked, setting down a bag of takeout.
“Some kid who texted me by mistake,” Jason replied, showing him the messages.
Roy skimmed them and snickered. “Plasmius? Sounds like a knockoff vampire villain.”
Jason’s fingers flew over the keyboard.
Jason: Okay, kid, you’ve officially got my interest. I don’t know who you are, but if this Plasmius guy’s half as bad as you say, I’ve got some creative ways to deal with him. You in Gotham?
Danny stared at the message, blinking. Who even was this guy? But... he did sound like he knew how to handle problems.
Danny: Uh, no. I’m from Amity Park. It’s kind of a supernatural hotspot, so I’ve got it covered. But thanks for the offer, I guess?
Jason smirked.
Jason: Supernatural hotspot? Kid, you’re talking to someone who’s been resurrected. Ghosts don’t scare me.
Danny froze. Resurrected? Oh no. This guy might actually know about the supernatural.
Danny: ...Wait, who ARE you?
Jason: Name’s Jason. Most people call me Red Hood. Ever heard of me?
Danny blinked, then groaned. “Of course. I text a vigilante. Just my luck.”
Danny: ...Yeah, I’ve heard of you. So, uh, thanks for not tracking this number and showing up at my house or something.
Jason: Yet.
Danny felt a shiver run down his spine.
Danny: That’s not funny, dude.
Jason: Relax, Little Badger. Your secret’s safe with me. For now. But hey, if you ever need help dealing with your undead billionaire problem, hit me up.
Danny sighed, shaking his head.
Danny: Sure. Thanks, I guess?
Jason leaned back, grinning as he saved the number under Ghost Kid.
“Roy, I think I just found the weirdest contact in my phone.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Roy replied, tossing Jason a burger.
“Not bad. Just… different.” Jason chuckled. “Plasmius, huh? Sounds like fun.”
DPxDC short angst cause why not if you put this on TT I want credit :(
It starts with the incessant ringing of a phone that shouldn’t be going off til the sun has fallen below the city skyline. Yet the sun hangs heavy in the sky watching through the cracks of curtained windows as the phone chimes away from its place.
A nap interrupted by the ringing draws out anger so easily let lose in curses as the phone is lifted from its charger and the call is answered.
“Someone better be-“ Jason hadn’t even gotten all of the words out before he is stopped by the sound of crying on the other end. Crying itself would be unordinary for anyone contacting him of all people. but these? These are truly heart wrenching wet sobs. The kind that shake the entire body and rattle ribs.
“Jazz…’m sorry!” The person -a kid from how young the wet voice sounds- cries over the phone, having not heard the start of Jason’s sentence. Whether that be because of his own crying or the shouting a commotion in the background, Jason can’t tell. “I told mom an-and dad.” He stops the stutter out a breath, sobs berly breaking. “You tol’ me not to without you an’ I did any way. And now they’re gonna-“
The call didn’t end only his voice stopped as the sounds in the background came closer to the phone. Shouting, threats of violence and then the phone call ends. Just like that.
It’s early noon when Jason is woken by a wrong number call from a terrified and sobbing kid.
summary:A wrong number text about “sad pancakes” turns into daily updates, ridiculous live commentaries, and eventually a full-blown friendship — maybe even more. Follow Y/N and Felix as their random messages turn into something neither of them expected: love.
lee felix x reader
・❥・✎ intro → masterlist → taglist ✎ ・❥・
A/N: I DO HAVE AN APP FOR THIS! but my phone keyboard is currently not working so i had to do it like this instead!!
It started with pancakes.
Unknown Number:
Okay, so Chan just tried to make “healthy” pancakes and… they taste like sadness.
You frowned at the message, sitting cross-legged on your couch. You didn’t know any Chan.
Y/N:
…Who’s Chan? And also, who are you?
Unknown Number:
Oh no 😳 you’re not Jisung??
Y/N:
Nope.
Unknown Number:
Well… uh… hi. I’m Felix. And I clearly have the wrong number.
Clicking his contact i changed his name,silently hoping this conversation wouldn’t be our last. He seemed like a funny guy.
Y/N:
Seems like it.
I’m y/n,incase you forget my number isn’t “jisungs”
Felix:
Sorry for the random food rant. I’ll… stop bothering you now.
Y/N:
It’s fine. The mental image of sad pancakes made my day.
You figured he would forget about you. But he didn’t
[day 3]
Felix:
Okay so hear me out — there’s this pigeon outside our dorm that stares directly into our window like it’s judging us.
Y/N:
…Didn’t we establish that I’m not Jisung?
Felix:
Yes. But you replied last time, so now you’re my live commentary buddy.
Y/N:
I don’t remember agreeing to this??
Felix:
Whoops oh well too late. No refunds…
[day 5]
Felix:
Today’s update: Jeongin just tried to microwave a boiled egg…it exploded.
Y/N:
PLEASE tell me you took a picture
Felix:
Nahh, I was too busy protecting my face from flying yolk next time tho..
Y/N:
That’s tragic could’ve been the perfect meme.
Felix:
I’ll keep my camera ready for the next time he’s in the kitchen
[day 7]
Somehow, your phone was buzzing daily now. It went from a stray group-chat message now and again to non stop buzzing from the random guy in your contacts.
Felix:
Dropped my phone on my face this morning. 2/10, do not recommend.
Y/N:
bruh you just ruined my plans for the day
However classic rookie mistake
Felix:
What, are you a phone-dropping veteran?
Y/N:
We don’t talk about it.
[day 9]
Felix:
I found your doppelgänger today. She was holding iced coffee and glaring at the sky like it offended her.
Y/N:
Sounds like your true soulmate
Felix:
Nah. I already have someone I like texting every day.
You stared at your phone, cheeks warming, unsure how to reply.
Felix:
y/nnnnn???
y/n:
don’t say stuff like that i might think u acc like me or smth
[day 10]
Felix:
I just realized… I’ve texted you more than my actual friends this week.
Y/N:
That’s sad for you but very flattering for me
Felix:
I’m gonna ignore the first part of that message but be flattered
You’re easier to talk to than most people
Y/N:
…You’re dangerously close to making this sound like flirting.
Felix:
Maybe it is.
[day 11]
Felix:
Chan just yelled at me because I accidentally put salt in my coffee.
Y/N:
…How the heck did u manage that???
Felix:
ok but hear me out
the sugar jar and the salt jar are the same size, okay??
Y/N:
Pancake guy, you’re a hazard in the kitchen.
Felix:
And yet you still talk to me.
Y/N:
Unfortunately for me
[day 12]
Felix:
If I can go three days without texting you, you owe me bubble tea.
Y/N:
what happened to hey,hello,how are you?
Felix:
hey
hello
how are you
If I can go three days without texting you, you owe me bubble tea….
y/n:
Okay then deal
I’ll enjoy my free drink.
Two hours later
Felix:
Okay but Hyunjin just walked into a glass door and I had to tell you.
y/n:
LOLLL knew you couldn’t last. enjoy paying for your drink
and mine
[day 14]
Felix:
Okay, so. Hear me out. Instead of texting you my live commentary today… I could give it to you in person.
Y/N:
Are you asking me out or trying to narrate our potential date?
Felix:
Both.
Y/N:
Where?
Felix:
Arcade. I’ll narrate every single game we play.
⸻
2 hours later
You spotted him immediately — blonde hair, freckles, and that same energy you’d been reading in his texts for two weeks straight.
“Y/N?” he asked, grinning.
“That’s me. Pancake critic slash pigeon reporter,” you said.
He laughed. “That’s me. Ready for the live commentary?”
And oh, he delivered.
“This air hockey puck is fearless.”
“I’m about to crush you in this racing game, Y/N, don’t take it personally.”
“Okay… I lost. I’m taking it personally.”
“That claw machine is a liar and a thief.”
By the time you left with matching slushies, your cheeks hurt from smiling.
⸻
The evening air was cool, your steps slow as Felix walked you to your door. Every so often, his shoulder bumped yours — maybe on accident, maybe not.
“You’re even better in person,” he said softly, and for once, there was no teasing in his voice.
You smiled. “You’re not bad yourself, pancake guy.”
He grinned, gave a small wave, and walked off — glancing back once with a look that made your heart skip.
Felix:
Today’s live commentary: met Y/N. 10/10, would do again.
Y/N:
You’re ridiculous.
Felix:
And yet you like it.
Y/N:
…Maybe.
[one week later]
Your phone buzzed.
Felix:
Breaking news: Y/N just stole the last dumpling at lunch.
You glanced up from across the table at the small restaurant you were both in. Felix was grinning at his phone, thumbs flying even though you were sitting right there.
Y/N:
Breaking news: Felix pouted about it for ten minutes.
He looked up, pretending to be offended. “That’s slander. It was only eight minutes.”
You rolled your eyes, sipping your drink. “You’ve been narrating this entire date while I’m here. You know that’s unnecessary, right?”
Felix leaned forward, elbows on the table, freckles crinkling as he smiled. “Nah. This is our thing.”
⸻
Later, walking back to your apartment, he kept up a running commentary like always:
“Y/N is walking slightly faster than me. Power move.”
“Felix is pretending not to be out of breath from catching up.”
“Streetlight turns red dramatically. Tension builds.”
You laughed so hard you nearly tripped. “You’re an idiot.”
“But I’m your idiot,” he said, so casually you almost missed it.
And maybe your heart did that thing again — the skipping, the warming, the part where you realized you were in trouble with this boy.
⸻
That night, lying in bed, your phone buzzed one last time.
Felix:
Today’s live commentary: Y/N kissed me goodnight. 100/10, highly recommend.
Y/N:
Shut up.
Felix:
Make me.
You grinned at your phone, shaking your head. Maybe some things — like bad pancakes, exploding eggs, and unexpected texts — really did happen for a reason.
‘Oi, knobhead, you’d better be coming out tonight!’
‘I think you might have the wrong number.’
‘Don’t think so. James, stop being a twat!’
‘Er, yeah, you really do have the wrong number. I’m not James.’
‘James, stop being a twat and tell me you’re coming out tonight.’
‘Fine, I’m coming out tonight… But I’m not James.’
‘Mother fucker!!!’
“James, what are you playing at?” Sirius shouted down the phone.
“Seriously, I’m not James!” the man on the other end of the phone, who was definitely not James, answered. Sirius’s eyes bulged out of his head.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“My friend must have put a random number in my phone when I wasn’t looking,” Sirius tried to explain.
“Your friend James, the knobhead?” The man chuckled.
“Yeah, him,” Sirius laughed along.
“Wait, James? Big lad, messy hair, an absolute disaster when it comes to dancing?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. How do you know him?”
“Met him at a bar the other night, asked for my number.”
“That absolute knobhead. He’s happily married, but keeps trying to find me someone so I can be as happy as he is. He’s put your number in my phone under his name, so I’ll text you.”
The man laughed even louder over the phone. “Sorry again,” Sirius apologised. “Well, bye,” he hung up with the man’s laughter still ringing in his ears.
‘JAMES FLEAMONT POTTER, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING TWAT!!!!’
‘Still not James.’
‘Fuck, sorry… Er, what is your name so I can change it in my phone?’
