#But I don’t see the size difference between Steve and Eddie like just look at the next to each other there’s not a big difference there

[plistommy]

My biggest pet peeves are when Steve is made to be this big beefy guy when he got little bit more muscular or when when Eddie is made to be smaller when those two guys are the same height and literally pretty much the same size like WHAT size difference?? :(

[clown420cunt]

Molly - Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Summery: After the gang try out some of Eddie’s new inventory, the afternoon turn into something more then just excited chatting and familiar company.

Warnings: drug use! Please do not read this if the topic is triggering.

Tags: Eddie x fem!reader, one time use of y/n, plus size coded reader, drug use (weed and molly, Be responsible!), friends to lovers, nicknames, aphrodisiac, smut, oral!female receiving, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, p in v sex(wrap it before you tap it), cream pie, reader is kinda a pillow princess.

Masterlist

Not beta read.

Word count: 3,8k

Minors!DNI

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See, taking Molly with your close friends seamed like a fun idea until robin was freaking out about drinking the tall glass of water in front of her.

“But what if we die and no one ever finds our bodies!” Her ramblings not stopping even when Steve and Eddie try to tell her that that it isn’t gonna happen.

(Y/n) steps into the kitchen going to the fridge and pulled out 4 bottles of water.

“Robin you don’t have to worry, just drink a shit ton of water and you’ll be fine” she puts a bottle in front of everyone.

“I’ve done this before, is gonna be fun!”

She takes her spiked glass of water and downs it.

“30 minutes and we’ll be flying”

She grabs her bottle if water and moves towards the living room before turning around and saying “I also got gum so we don’t chew our cheeks”.

Robin locked eyes with Steve before the both of them decide that this was it and downed their own glasses as well.

Following behind her into the adjacent room.

—————————————————————

And here he is, one moment Eddie was sitting and staring at robin and Steve, trying to decipher the words coming out of their mouths.

One continuous speech of words exchanged from one to the other, seemingly with no start or end to it.

Just two people in their own bubble.

And the next moment a soft weight was sat in his lap taking up his full attention.

“Eddie I love you so much! You’re so fun to be around and you’re so passionate about things you like and I think it’s so cute!” A new mountain of words are taking up his ears and it takes a second for him to register the meaning for the words coming from the girl just sat in his lap.

A dope smile settles on his face, dilated eyes shift to her face to stair into another pair of just as round pupils.

“Really?” The girl nods her head fast up and down not breaking eye contact.

“Really, really” she grabs his face between the palms of her hands, fingers speed around his jaw and ears. The organ slotting perfectly In between her pointer and middle finger.

“Your face so soft and warm” she squeezes his cheeks lightly before moving her palms in tiny circles, catching on the new hair growth starting to emerge from his last shave.

A smile mimicking his own starting to take place on her face as well.

His smile seemed to get bigger with her answer. Eyes closeting for a second to take in the new sensation on his skin. Warm soft palms and delicate fingers teasing into his hair, temping to scratch at his scalp.

She releases his head to grab one of his hands.

sliding her hand into his bigger ones, slotting her fingers beside his.

He’s soft palm resting with hers in her lap.

He opens his eyes again to look at the connection. Inspecting the size difference and the way her hand fits perfectly in his hold.

His other hand lifts from where it was placed on the armrest to place it self on her waist.

“Your hands are so small” the words seem to spill out of his mouth before they popped into his mind.

She turns her gaze from his face to their connected hands.

“Oh my god! They’re tiny!” She shifted in her seat in his lap, turning her knees closer to Eddies waist and twisting her upper body at an uncomfortable angle.

She stands up, his hand falling back onto the armrest of the couch he was sitting on.

“Can I sit here like this” she moves her hands in a straight line from her sides to his.

Eddie just nods “yeah sure” not really understanding the arm movements.

She sets one leg and plush thigh on either side of Eddie, resorting in him having to move a bit away from the armrest to make room.

Eddie places his hand on the meat of her thighs, the squishy supple flesh laying against his palms now.

A involuntary squeeze and he can’t seem to stop him self from roaming the uncharted sea of long sensual touching.

Finally settling she rest her arms on he’s biceps.

His muscles twitching as she runs them down the sleeve of his t-shirt and up into it.

Sending electricity up into his brain and down to his fingertips.

“You’re so warm” she gives him a squeeze. “I am?” Eyes shifting to where her hand is placed on his left arm.

“Yes! Is really nice” a breathy tone entering her voice, her forehead falling to his shoulder.

He moves his hands up and down her thighs taking in the feeling of her denim pants running along his ruff skin.

She site straight up again, removing her hands from under his sleeves to retract them into her own T-shirt sleeves and onto her back.

Fumbling around with something Eddie is not totally sure about.

She finds what she’s looking for and a sigh escapes her lips.

“That is so much better” she scrambles with trying to slide something down her arms and pushes it out the bottom of her shirt discarding the burgundy bra on the side and sliding onto the floor.

Moving her hands out of the sleeves again and back up to remove the tension from her shoulders, touching the now free mounds from on top of the shirt.

“That thing was killing me” gently squeezing and moving the imprisoned flesh, the subtle movement that resembled the ocean waves making his stare in a trance like state.

“Do you want to touch they’re so soft” she’s looking at him with these big doll like eyes, glassy and blown out, the black of her pupil nearly covering her natural eye colour.

Eddies hands are moving, her hands guiding his up and onto the softest sensation he’s ever touched.

His movement was instant, squeezing the soft flesh, holding the two softest pillows he’s ever had his hands upon.

The weight heavy but welcome.

Eddie leans forward, his forehead touching her collarbone.

“This is the softest thing I’ve ever…” his voice is mumbled against her but she hears him all the same.

Her hands are placed in his hair touching and running her finders though the curly brown locks.

Then going to the top of his scalp and pressing her fingertips into his flesh.

A new sensation washing over him, a tinkle runing along his spine.

She pushes him closer to her, his face being planted down into her chest.

The soft globes engulfing Eddie in the safe cocoon of her scent.

She’s placing a kiss on top of his head and he shifts his gaze up again, starting into her calm, blown out orbs.

She continues to kiss his face, down his forehead onto his cheeks and onto the tip of his nose.

The pillowy kisses for her lips are a welcoming feeling and Eddie doesn’t have to think before he’s leaning in to catch her lips with his when she stoped to look at him.

“Is this okay?” She breaks the kiss before they can get lost in the sensations of each other.

He places his nose against her cheek, running it down her face to place kisses against her jawline.

“More than okay” he mumbles along his journey along her jawbone.

A hand is placed on his face again, her right hand guiding his lips back to hers, breathing in the tenderness of scents, bumping of noses and locking of plump lips.

He opens his mouth just enough for his toung to run along her soft lower lip.

Theres a quick reaction from her when one of his hands runs from a breast to her ass.

A squeeze making her part her lips so he can explore the inside of her soft round cheeks.

She lifts her arms setting them on the back of his back and in his hair, gripping into the full strands on his head.

A finger runs along her nippel and goosebumps break out over her stomach and back making their way down her arms and legs.

A soft moan is pulled when she breaks the kiss, three pecks are planted up his face which is descending down to her neck looking for where she’s most sensitive.

A breathy voice rings in his ears “You wanna go find the guest room?”

His mind creeps back in to register what’s being asked of him.

The kiss breaks, his tongue running up the tendon of her neck up to her ear.

His eyes locking onto robin and Steve still in deep conversation, totally oblivious to theory two friends on the couch right in front of them.

His own blissed out voice comes to he’s ears when he speaks out again her ear.

“Show the way, sweetheart”

She gets up from his lap and stretches her hand out to him.

Placing his hand in hers and rising from the couch, doesn’t disturb the other two idiots.

A soft voice sounding like sweet music in his ears flow into the open room.

“We’ll be right back” no movement or acknowledgement come from their two sitting on the couch in front of them.

With nothing else in the way they move hand in hand out of the living room and upstairs to the guest bedroom set up for tonight.

———————————————————————

It’s hard to walk with him stuck to her side like a koala.

Big hands grappling and touching all along her upper body, up to her neck and back down to her ass.

A handful of cheek in his hand.

Slightly chapped but soft lips sucking a bruise below her ear when they end up against the door.

Trying to get the doorknob to work with the movement and the denial of eyesight.

There’s a click and the solid form behind them moves, kiss broken to make room for not falling on the floor, they make their way in and closes the door on they way.

The first think to go is her shirt, the old worn fabric of a T-shirt is discarded onto the floor.

Hands making contact with flush skin and a sigh making its way out catching ear drums and bouncing off the walls.

Eddies hands make their way up the exposed skin.

Grabbing, squeezing, touching and running up the path of her stomach and waist.

One hand settling on her chest while the other runs up her shoulder blade and holds her closer.

Lips smashing against hers before making their way down to her neck again.

Licking, kissing and biting down and into where her shoulder and neck meet.

Soft breaths and small moans escaping her mouth, as she grasp his waist and arm when her legs turn to jelly.

Her hands run down the expanse of his chest to settle at the bottom of his shirt.

Slightly the fabric upwards to discard the offending garment.

Eddie disconnects from her throat, shirt tuning over his head.

Eyes setting on the small and bigger bruising forming onto the sensitive flesh.

She pulled him into a headed kiss again, he’s quick to take charge.

Moving tongues and lips in synchronised motion.

Hands creep down from necks and supply open buttons and sippers.

Pushing denim down the expanse to plush thighs and round shapes, settling against hardwood floors.

Another pair of pants quickly follow, a sound of metal on hardwood joins the wet sounds of lips fighting and tongues meeting.

Pressing his body against hers is a feeling Eddie never wants to end.

Warm, soft flesh slotting against his tall frame.

Hands gripping thighs and running along chest hair and sensitive nipple piercings.

The kiss breaks and eyes shift down to his chest, a thumb running over the jewellery and making him shutter, sucking in short breaths and kissing his teeth in the process.

Eyes running along the expanse of his chest, down to his bellybutton and following the trail of hair presenting a tent of blue checkered fabric.

Top of her tongue peeking out from her lips, wetting them in the process.

Finger tips edging to run along the edge of his boxers.

His hand catching her wrist before she can do anything “not yet”.

Guiding her backwards until the back of her knees touch the bed and she’s placed on to the light green comforter.

Eddies fingertips brushes over her sides and ghost over the sensitive skin of her lower stomach.

Fingers hooking in the elastic of the comfortable cotton panties

He tucks down, guiding her to lift her hips off of the madras so he can get the fabric over the curve of her ass.

Plush flesh flexing when the muscles in her thighs and butt move into action.

The soft pull of fabric is moved from her ankle and suffering the same fade of all the other items on the floor.

“Slide back would you, sweetheart?” His soft candied voice can de heard making her brain fuzzy.

Her body moving before she can really register what could be happening.

He climbeds after her settling between her legs, hands running up over her skin and gripping her chest.

Skin soft and plush slipping between his fingers and creating small curves I the spaces.

A hot breath and wet tongue catching her attention, a sensation that makes her brain turn off and a moan makes a way past her lips.

“God you are so beautiful, I could get lost in you forever” the hot muscle comes in contact with the pebbled knob again this time lips follow, sucking onto the pink flesh.

She wiggles when his teeth grace the sensitive circle.

Nipping at it before moving to the other one to give it the same attention.

Course fingers make a move south and settle in the soft curls on her mound.

Fingers dipping down to run along the opening of her plush lips, before dipping into her feeling the slick hiding between her thighs.

“Is all this for me?” He breathed against her breast, a lick following the question.

A squeak and a shuttering breath follow.

Fingers dipping deeper and running up to touch her clit, curling it a couple of times and pulling away.

He shift, moving off of her and a whine follows.

“Shh, baby” he goes back to kiss her, one hand holding him up the other falling to her thigh and lifting it up to her stomach, before breaking contact with her lips and moving his whole body lower.

“I’m not going anywhere” his other hand is placed on her ass and slither up her other thigh placing it in the same position as the other and spreading her open for him to see.

He locked eyes with her glistening hole, small needy twitches catch his eye and makes it impossible to look away.

“So wet, sweetheart” he licks his lips.

“What did I do to deserve such a good girl” another pucker catches his eye and a whimper follows.

Without breaking eye contact with her weeping hole he descents.

Licking a strip up her lips before settling onto her most needy pebble.

First licking and then sucking over the sensitive button.

A moan spurs him on twirling his wet muscle over her again and again.

Moving a hand down her thigh and teasing at her entrance.

Going circles around before inserting one finger and then two.

A broken breath and a loud moan can be heard after.

A hand snaking into his hair gripping tight to the scalp making him groan and trust into the comforter creating friction against his underwear.

Fingers moving in a ‘come here’ motion starts the tinkly sensation.

Hips riding up and grinding on his face following his fingers and tongues moments.

Holding her down makes her whine out loud, a squeaky sound in the hot room.

His teeth catch on her clit and sends a jolt of pleasure through her.

A guttural moan following.

Her walls spasming around his digits when he does it again, fingers catching the soft spongy spot inside.

“I’m gonna cum” three sweet words fall from her lips followed by another moan.

He keeps his fingers pace and continues to nibble at her clit, small electric shocks building into pressure in her gut directly connected to her sweet release.

Eddie continues the motion, her body locking up and walls squeezing his fingers so tight.

No air enters her lungs as a second release comes with a push of her walls liquid release as the over stimulation turns into another orgasm.

Making her squirt as he lick her clit.

Broken sounds escape har agape lips, cut off screams and moans having no way to form with the lack of air entering her system.

Her legs are shaking when he removes himself from her.

Legs falling to her sides as she tries to catch her breath.

Eddie moves up to kiss her, rock hard member catching on the crook of where her thigh meets her torso and a groan falls from his lips.

“You did so good for me sweetheart, squirting all over my face. Such a dirty girl”

Her brain like mush struggling to comprehend the words falling from his lips.

He kisses her again lips opening so she can taste herself in his kiss. Wet chin and mouth transferring her juices onto her face in the process.

“Want you Eddie, want you so bad” she breaths in between connected lips.

He growls into the kiss as he runts into her stomach.

Breaking the kiss, he mover to discard his last layer.

His dick springing free from its confines and standing tall against his stomach.

Pre-cum pebbling and catching the light in the room making the head shiny and inviting.

His hand moves to grab his throbbing member.

Giving it a few pumps before moving to climb on top of her again.

Grinding against her wet entrance, catching her clit with his head and the sweet sensation of lightning running up her spine doesn’t prepare her for the delicious stretch from his cock.

A gasp and wide eyed expression makes Eddies attention run from the image of his dick disappearing in between her soaking walls and up to her blissed out face.

Pulling back out that thrusting in again he keeps his eyes on her beautiful face.

High from a combination of drugs and two orgasms clearly giving her an out of body experience when Eddie once again thrust into her.

Hearing her breath hitch and eyes flutter from every touch.

Picking up speed, the sound bodies slapping together would be able to be heard through the wooden door if you passed by.

Broken moans, groans and screams sprinkled in.

Thighs back against her stomach, body folded in half, hands on thighs and behind knees is the position the pressure builds again.

Ruff thrusts sending the frame of the bed against the wall creating a steady rhythm of thumbs.

Her eyes roll into the back of her head body and mind only focusing to the man on top of her.

Fucked stupid, no thoughts running through her head, not even able to form any.

Breath hitching every time his dick hits her sweet spot sending tremors through her body.

Eddies mind is only on her, eyes following her every move, ears only hearing the sounds she gives up.

High pitch whines and small short screams fall from her lips, her legs start to tremble and shake and he releases one of her legs to move the pad of his thumb over her aroused clit.

The tight but soft circular motion sends her over the edge.

Loud whiny screams tumble through her lips as her trembling core tighten and try to push him out of her.

The sensation nearly sends Eddie over the edge, making him stop short in his thrusts.

He doesn’t want this to be over yet.

The all consuming sensation of her everything making him strive for more in his elevated state of body and mind.

She stretches her legs out, the tinkling sensation of blood flowing back into the limbs.

The new position makes Eddie lean over her and place her arms around his sweaty neck.

“Hold tight” and without pulling out he sits her up into his lap adjusting her in to a comfortable position.

Shallow thrust start up again, her legs folded behind his back and arms holding onto him for dear life.

She rocks with him using her thigh muscles to guide and grind herself down on his dick.

“You feel so good, suck a good girl riding me” Eddie holds her tight.

“Gonna let me come is this position sweetheart? Gonna let me cover these walls with my cum. Hmm?”

A moan falls from his lips when her walls clamp down at the words, body reacting to the filthy words coming from his mouth.

The sounds she’s making and the flutter of her used hole is a tell tail sign and he can’t stop him self this time.

Thick white cum fills her up, while Eddie continues to thrust through his orgasm, sending her over the edge.

Biting down into Eddies shoulder makes him moan out loud at the sting feeling.

Muffling the sound of her screams while they ride out the last blissful moments.

The only sound in the room is heavy breathing.

She can feel his cum leaking out of her and down the curve of her ass, his softening member no longer making sure it stays put.

“You okay?” He asked after getting enough air and blood back into his brain.

“Y.. yeah” her voice breaks with the word.

“I’m gonna lay you down on the bed, okay?”

“Okay..”

He leans forward, having her upper body fall onto the bed and moving his feet from under her ass.

Admiring the way har beasts move up and down with each breath she takes.

Eddie gets up from the bed stumbling in the process.

Leg muscles screaming out for him to sit back down but continues to carry him as he moves to put on his underwear and a shirt.

Glancing over he watches her for a second to make sure she’s okay before moving to the door to go get them both at big glass of water.

Walking by the living room he can still see Robin and Steve talking but they’ve changed position now both laying upside down on the sofa heads not visible because of the table in front.

Eddie completes his mission of water and returns to her lying on her side.

She’s facing the door waiting for him half asleep.

He makes her drink the whole glass before helping her into her T-shirt and panties for a visit to the toilet making sure she can take care of herself.

The room is hot and smells of sex, he opens a window to let some fresh air in and grab his pre rolled joints for at slow descending calm down.

Returning to the living room with her and stepping into the backyard.

“You know.. I love you too”

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I hope you enjoyed my first ever attempt at writing smut 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 this is kind of anxiety provoking ngl, so please be kind to me 😖

Let me know what you think!

I will also be posting this to AO3!

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Taglist: @paleidiot

[hitlikehammers]

to die by your side (is such a heavenly way to die)

rating: t ♥️ cw: angst with a happy ending (which is actually kinda fluffy?), limbo/near-death experiences, post-S4/Upside Down-heavy, falling in love ♥️ tags: falling for each other in the space between life and death, happy ending

for @steddielovemonth day twenty-six: Love is a fire that never goes out (@sidekick-hero)

this is because of 1) this song being too close to the prompt for me to disengage it in my head, and the chorus therefore dictating this plot line, and 2) @hbyrde36 picked it and, again, I am very susceptible to people indicating they like a thing and would enjoy more, so @hbyrde36: I hope you enjoy what this became ♥️

“Oh fuck, not you, too.”

Steve looks up—when did he sit down, he doesn’t remember sitting down, he doesn’t remember how even got here, and hey, actually, where is here—

“What?” Steve looks toward the voice; familiar. See the wreath of curls around a pale face.

“This is death, right?” Eddie’s crossing over to him, crouching just beside; “I’m dead, like, I am very sure I’m dead, but you’re here, so—“

“I don’t,” Steve breathes in sharp—tries to get his bearings, tries to see but it’s just black in every direction, his lungs feel like they’re halved in size all of sudden, everything feels tight and painful and hard like inhaling isn’t something guaranteed, and his heartbeat feels like it’s dragging the carcass of something with it when it pumps, laborious and—

He’s is breathing, though, even if it’s kinda half-assed; he’s got a heartbeat, even if it feels like it’s about to fucking give out.

That doesn’t…that doesn’t sound like death.

“I,” Steve licks his lips; his mouth is so fucking dry but swelling kinda hurts and…he’s not as fucked up as he has a feeling he should be, he needs to think harder than he’s ready for just now to figure out what the last thing that happened between where he was, and where he is but: he thinks he should be more fucked up on, like, an instinctual level that knows he should be pretty fucked up, basically, and he’s not.

But again: he still hurts, and that…also doesn’t sound like death.

He swallows anyway; not that it helps.

“Max said there was this, black void,” Steve works through the first thing that comes to mind slowly, processes as he speaks; “with water,” and he looks down and sees the ripples in what he’s sitting in, moving around him but…but the reflections are right, and there’s no light so how are there even wrong reflections; he wasn’t good in his science classes but he feels pretty sure you need light to see anything in a mirror, plus—

“Water,” he flicks his hand from the standing pool around him up at Eddie without warning: “that wasn’t wet.”

Eddie splutters, but it dies down quick: it’s supposed to be wet. He expects it to be.

But it’s not. His eyes go so fucking big.

“It’s attached to the Upside Down,” Steve pushes on; “Eleven can like, come here, but,” he shakes his head and Eddie grimaces: she lost her powers.

“So it’s almost-death,” Eddie surmises, and drops into the not-water next to Steve.

“I guess so,” Steve shrugs, and draws his legs up; hugs his knees.

“Fucking great,” Eddie huffs, sneers, and it’s…Steve not sure why exactly, but it feels…targeted. Directed at him, because one, yes: he isthe only other thing here—as far as he can tell—but the words Eddie’d no-greeted him with float back into his consciousness:

Not you.

“Sorry to rain on your parade, man,” Steve bites out and shoves his head down between his thighs, maybe to breathe, maybe to think, maybe to hide, maybe to fucking cry, maybe to…fuck, he doesn’t even know.

He thinks he’s in the middle of trying to split the difference of every possible thing when Eddie’s voice breaks the still in the dark: “I didn’t,” and honestly, Steve’s never heard that voice sound so soft, so small; “that’s not what I meant,” and it’s an apology even if they words don’t add up exact, Steve feels it clear like a blow to the solar plexus. He turns to Eddie, who’s staring out at the nothing.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Eddie whispers, and his lip trembles, Steve can see that despite the lack of light.

Steve can see tears on that face, too, despite the lack of any light.

“But I hate that you’re here,” Eddie’s voice catches on kind of a whine, and Steve maybe would startle, when a hand reaches out and covers his; Eddie still does look at him, but he flattens his hand over Steve’s like a squeeze:

“That you’re here, too.”

And, oh. Okay.

Okay.

They’re here, then. Together.

Here.

___________________

It takes a while—he thinks; he thinks it’s a while, but one of the first things that makes itself plain in this godforsaken place is how times means absolutely fucking nothing, so; he think it takes a while to remember the vines.

They were coming back for Robin, and Steve would die before he let her get hurt so: that’s the last thing he remembers.

For Eddie, it’s the bats; Steve grimaces, hates even imagining like…swarms of them. More of their bites.

He’s the one who reaches for Eddie’s hand, this time—he wants to say it’s just a little comfort for the particularly bad things that are coming up as they sit here, as they draw patterns in the not-water and blow against it to make little waves just for shits, mindless and stupid: he wants to say that when it gets too much, and then keeps going, when it’s the worst, they’ve started to reach because what else can they do? Who else can they lean on?

Who’s gonna fucking know?

Actually: no. He doesn’t want to say that.

He wants to say the truth: the truth being they touch a lot. They reach a lot. They reach because it’s quiet. They reach because it’s dark. They reach because they’re frustrated. Or they’re scared. Steve could map Eddie’s calluses blind if he was asked to. Eddie traces his veins without being able to see close enough to know that he’s right.

He wants to say the truth: that he wants to touch. He craves it. And not just from anyone.

He craves this.

He doesn’t know what that fucking means.

But he’s the one who reaches, and covers Eddie’s hand, presses down to keep him when Eddie remembers the bats.

And he’s the one who leans, who rests their shoulders together and holds his breath.

But Eddie is the one who doesn’t move away, who leans in too, he tips his head onto Steve and breathes out slow so Steve can feel the warm damp of it on his skin and…

Steve’s heart’s fucking pounding, but then also it’s kinda like fluttering, and either way:

That’s not death.

___________________

Steve likes that the not-water is…not water, because lying back in it doesn’t fuck up his hair. Which…feels cleaner than it should be he figures maybe that’s just the same as both he and Eddie not being riddled with the wounds they should be rights be covered in—he can run his hands through it and that’s really all he wants, his hands, or like, you know if other hands wanted—

Whatever; he’s not going to question the not-water. He’s happy it doesn’t make him a wet dog just for trying to lay back and pretend there are stars.

Which he’d still be doing, if a weird…flapping noise hadn’t started up over to the left.

He has to squint in the no-light to see what the fuck’s going on, something in Eddie’s hands, oh shit, flapping, is it one of those fucking bats—

“What the fuck?”

Eddie freezes, and turns. And Steve sees what’s in his hands.

Doesn’t change his question.

Eddie just blinks at him. And runs his thumbs over the desk of cards he’s holding, flicking them one by one: flapping.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Eddie shrugs. “Pocket.”

Steve gapes a little.

“You’ve had them the whole time?” because again, even if the feeling’s shifted: what the fuck

“Lots of pockets, man,” Eddie grins cheekily as he shakes his jacket out, like Steve can see any pockets.

Then he’s walking over to Steve on his knees before dropping cross-legged and shuffling the deck before he taps them out on his thigh and leans in:

“Pick your poison.”

And Steve’s played his share of cards, is actually pretty decent at poker, but, like…

“I don’t,” he bites his lip and stares at the predictable red pattern of the face-down cards;“I don’t want to think,” he finishes, kinda fucking lame, but Eddie’s not deterred, flips a few cards off the top with a thump before balancing the rest on his knee, offering half the cards he’s still holding to Steve with a little wiggle of his eyebrows:

“Go Fish?”

And Steve, he, like—

This is not-death, right, but whatever it is, it’s probably not good, and yet here Steve sits, with five cards in his hand and…Jesus.

He feels his lips stretch and he doesn’t think he’s smiled like this in…

In a while.

___________________

“Three Musketeers,” Steve answers when they’re lounging in the not-water, heads lined up so sometimes Steve feels the tickle of Eddie’s curls.

“The fuck?” Eddie huffs a laugh; the question was just things they’d miss if they never get out of here; like, it’s a little morbid and also a little hopeful all at once.

They’ve been working deeper in the category of food for a bit now, and so it’s candy bars. And Steve does not see what’s controversial about his choice, honestly.

“I love those, shit,” Steve waves his hand in the air, dismissing Eddie’s very wrong opinion, here; “they’re just,” Steve hums, tries to figure out the best way to defend a genuinely fucking excellent snack food:

“They’re simple,” and that sounds like a weak defense but look at where they are, look at their lives, that is fucking high praise. “Not too sweet and like, light and airy and,” Steve tilts his head, imagines the mouthfeel:

“Kinda delicate when you bite into ‘em,” he feels himself grin a little: “like bubbles or something,” because…yeah.

They’re awesome, but then he looks over at Eddie, who’s already turned to look at him, his gaze…something. Weighty but not oppressive. Piercing but not painful.

“Sorry,” Steve feels himself flush and it’s no the first time, or the worst time, but he’s grateful just like he is every time that there’s no fucking light and whatever lets them see at all doesn’t give away a blush; “sorry, that’s—“

“That’s adorable,” Eddie says with something…equally undefinable in his voice as much as his eyes, but this thing makes Steve feel, like, warm and tingly, a little, under his skin, in his chest; “you’re right, they’re…” and Eddie reaches for his hand, which they do a lot, yeah, but not…not so often for good things and this feels…like a good thing.

“They’re really good,” Eddie presses his hand over Steve’s, like a blanket, all encompassing—Steve has broad hands but Eddie’s fingers are longer than he’d ever noticed and he—

Steve likes how they fit.

“Under-appreciated, I think,” Eddie’s voice has lowered, softened, and it kinda feels like he’s saying something that has nothing to do with candy bars at all: “because people aren’t looking close enough to see how amazing it is.”

Yeah, for how Eddie’s staring at him, and for how Steve’s pulse has ramped up all of a sudden: Steve doesn’t really think Eddie’s talking about chocolate at all.

___________________

“You’re really good company.”

Eddie turns and blinks Steve’s way.

“What?”

Steve swallows; he’s not sure what made him say it. Except that it’s true.

“I’d have liked it,” he starts, like, expands on the point rather than revisiting the simple part; “if we could have, y’know,” and he gestures between them; “hung out.”

Eddie tilts his head, and he doesn’t smile exactly, but it kinda feels like his whole face, maybe his whole body, is a smile.

“Well,” he huffs a little laugh, like a disbelieving sound; “we’re hanging out, now.”

And Steve smiles the normal way, which is probably lesser to look at, but he wishes really hard that Eddie could, like, slip under his skin and see how it feels on the inside. “Yeah,” Steve grins at the darkness for a second, chews his lips a little, suddenly kinda…bashful, fuck:

“Yeah we are,” and then he breathes in deep, and makes himself be brave with something he doesn’t wholly understand:

“I like it,” and that’s an understatement.

And then Eddie hums, and covers Steve’s hand as he murmurs:

“Me too, sweetheart.”

And Steve’s heartbeat catches on that word, or more, reaches for that word, that name, greedy and wild and it pounds out that same desperate mantra blood-in-blood-out unwavering:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead, not—

___________________

Eddie’s smile is so fucking pretty.

He didn’t know what Speed was, like the card game, so they’ve each got a pile balanced on a knee as the flip and they’re pressed up tight at their crossed legs to make a little table from their limbs for the discards and Eddie’s just…

It’s not just his smile.

“My grandpa taught me to play,” Steve comments idly, mostly just for something to say when it looks like they’re stuck and need to flip from the sides.

“It’s chaotic,” Eddie looks up and meets Steve’s eyes, his own fucking glittering when the lack of light should make that impossible but Steve thinks Eddie is kinda impossible so probably it fits.

“I like it,” he proclaims, as he reaches for another card to start the momentum back up, raises an eyebrow at Steve and waits for him to follow suit like he’s the expect, like Steve didn’t fucking just show him this game—

“You would,” Steve snorts and Eddie?

Eddie just beams bigger, and that catches in Steve’s pulse, nudges it to sing something that’s more than just not-dead; that’s more…

That feels more

___________________

It’s the more-feeling that breaks him, in the end.

“You called me big boy.”

Steve doesn’t really have control over his mouth, when it happens. Or else, like, he doesn’t think before the words tumble out, and the lie in the not-water and stare at the absence of the starts in the not-sky.

His heart’s jumped up to his throat, now.

Eddie’s quiet, for a while, even if time doesn’t mean anything here; Eddie’s quiet, and Steve’s heart wants to jump out of his fucking mouth but if it does than it’s got two destinations: it can’t drown in the not-water so that’s fucking useless, and then there’s Eddie, Eddie’s hands, Eddie’s chest and—

“I,” Eddie finally speaks, and his voice is rough, far away;“I, yeah.”

Steve doesn’t know what he was expecting. He wasn’t planning on saying anything so there weren’t any expectations built in.

“You looked at me,” Steve’s whispering, but it wavers, it moves with the force of his blood; “like you…” Steve licks his lips, swallows a whimper because what is he doing, what is he doing—

“Being almost-dead is really going to take the thunder out of your backlash on this, Harrington,” Eddie cuts into his panic and Steve’s head snaps over to look, to try and read Eddie’s expression: scared. Bracing for impact. Like Steve would, like Steve could ever—

“No, no, I,” Steve raises himself up and scoots over to Eddie, grabs his hands and presses them together in his own, never once looks away from Eddie’s eyes as they stretch wide.

“What did you mean?” because Steve’s started this, and Eddie’s anxious for it and…he needs Eddie to understand he’s not upset, he’s confused, his heart’s all swollen for it, he just, he—

“With the, with calling me that, and with leaning in like you did in the woods,” his breath’s shaking on the exhale: “with all the looks,” and he tries to leave it all in his eyes, on his face, open and clear for all that he doesn’t understand, but also for all that he…that he hopes.

Eventually, Eddie sighs, and squeezes his eyes shut tight, almost like a wince.

But he doesn’t pulls his hands away.

“You’re not stupid, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, even if Eddie can’t see it.

“I’m very stupid.”

And Eddie’s eyes fly open, look wrathful, look offended on…Steve’ behalf, what the fuck?

And yeah, yeah, he’s opening his mouth now to fight him, to fight Steve about Steve and…no. No, that’s not the point.

“I’m stupid,” Steve says again, but quick so he can get it out; “about like,” he tries to find the right words and remembers Robin’s point on it once:

“About, you know, matters of the heart.”

Eddie’s features slacken, and his mouth drops open as he blinks at Steve before he eventually chokes out:

“Heart?”

But Steve can hear it. He can hear the confusion, like his own, but also just like his own:

He thinks he can hear the hope.

“You held that bottle to my throat and all I wanted was for you to lean closer,” he confesses, and it feels amazing, like he can breathe again, or see in color even though there’s so little color, here.

“And slit it?” Eddie croaks, incredulous, still a little slack-jawed and Steve laughs, because he can breathe, and—

“And kiss me, you dick.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, and his eyes somehow get bigger, and his chest’s heaving and Steve wants that not to be for fearing, he wants Eddie to be anything but scared, he wants Eddie to be hoping—

“Stevie,” Eddie barely breathes and…it’s not scared, or else, not like it could be. It’s hesitant. It’s…full, of something Steve thinks might be incredible.

“You call me sweetheart,” Steve leans in, pushes the point, leans more until he’s close enough where he can feel Eddie’s breath on his face; “here. Now.”

Eddie nods immediately, doesn’t try to hide from it.

“Yeah, I do,” he breathes, and watches Steve so careful, unblinking.

“What does it mean,” Steve pushes, angles his lips without even thinking, without making the choice but Eddie?

Eddie makes the choice, and he kisses Steve so fucking sure and sweet and still wild somehow and Steve never wants to not be here. Never wants to not have this mouth under his, never wants to not have Eddie’s hands in his own: he doesn’t wholly understand it, where it comes from or what all it means but…his heart’s fucking dancing, the joy’s almost sore for it’s size and when Steve breathes between them, when they break for half a second to breathe and stare and marvel and Eddie looks like he’s entranced, like he’s overjoyed, and the only other thing here is Steve?

Fuck. Fuck.

If this ends up being death, that’s okay. That’s okay, as long as there’s also this.

___________________

He’s on top of Eddie’s chest, curled so so close, when it starts to feel…different. In his body. Like something pulling him.

The dark is still absolute but it almost feels like they’re on the brink of something, like dawn could come.

Steve fucking hates it.

“I don’t want to die alone,” Eddie whispers against his head, kisses at his hair.

“I don’t want you to die,” Steve grits out, almost violent, because isn’t this how it started, wasn’t that what Eddie meant, that he didn’t want Steve here, too—but Steve won’t accept that.

He cannot fucking accept that.

“I don’t want you to die at all.”

Eddie drags the tip of his nose back and forth against Steve’s hair some more as he breathes, breathes, breathes—

“To die by your side,” Eddie murmurs low; “would be my privilege,” and Steve chokes on a whine, a sob—it’s too much. It’s too much, and he needs this man, he needs him so much, he think he fucking loves hi—

“Maybe it’s not dying,” Steve tries, looks out into the abyss and he can’t see what’s on the way but he feels it; they both feel it: “maybe we’ll,” and he grabs Eddie’s hand and brings it to his lips.

“Maybe we’ll wake up.”

Maybe. Maybe.

“Kiss me,” Eddie exhales and Steve pulls back, slides up Eddie’s chest and hovers over him, makes to claim his lips but then Eddie lifts a palm, pauses Steve as he presses it over his racing heart and blinks at him, makes the tears fall from his lashes:

“Kiss me again when we wake up.”

And Steve will, he will, but.

He’s gonna kiss Eddie now, too. He’s going to kiss Eddie always.

He thinks his heart’s going too fast to beat out words but that, in itself, has to mean something that isn’t…death.

So he pours that conviction, and all the hope he’s got left, into Eddie as he devours him, breathes into him like they can melt together, like if Steve’s air lifts Eddie’s lungs they’ll be one person, one living soul and whatever happens…

Whatever happens will take them both.

___________________

Eddie splutters, clutches his chest; his heart’s racing, it feels like his blood’s on fire because every beat fucking burns, and the tear of his shirt where it’s stuck to his skin—dried blood, fucking hell—all up his side is absolutely disgusting, Jesus fuck—

“Eddie!”

He turns and that, that’s Henderson, and he squints; that’s Henderson running toward him, less than a minute away at that pace and Eddie doesn’t know if he can sit up but he’ll try, he digs his fingers into the mud and makes to lift—

And then something crashes into him, pins him right back down.

Covers his hands. Presses.

And he can’t get a word out, can barely fucking breathe before his lips are covered, before he’s being kissed so fucking desperate and giddy and all these feelings being fed straight into him, his heart leaping up in his throat to steal a taste but it doesn’t need to, it doesn’t need to because he feels…he feels it all everywhere, and he looks up and he shakes, he laughs, he’s gonna fucking cry—

“You woke up,” Eddie whispers, marvels, thinks his whole face is going to split open with, with joy and Steve, Steve is here, and he’s smiling back, and he’s breathing and they’re, it’s—

There’s light here. Steve’s eyes are like molten copper, they flicker, they shine.

“Promised,” Steve murmurs close, his lips moving Eddie’s lips with each syllable and the taste is, is…sweet and soft and light and perfect and Eddie almost doesn’t ask because it feels so right, so unquestionable but also he wants, something fierce and unwavering, and he needs to be sure where the water’s real, and the ripples mean something when you shift the whole fucking world, when you feel this big you know it’ll move the earth breathe your feet, so he has to ask:

“That the only reason?”

He still feels the hope from wherever they were, though; he feels it still, here, and he believes in it more in the light, he thinks, and he looks at Steve, takes him in, sees his chest rising and his pulse at the neck: real. Real, and so beautiful, and so, so—

Steve leans and kisses him hard, almost painful but it’s divine, Eddie will bask in the sting of it for the rest of his fucking life if he’s allowed, and then—

Then Steve pulls back and pins him with his eyes, now, fierce and on fire and they steal Eddie’s breath with feeling, with intent as Steve grabs at his shoulders, pulls them flush together and growls against his ear, like a vow almost:

“Only reason?” Steve huffs, shakes his head. “Not even close,” and he drags his lips over Eddie’s skin, catches Eddie’s hair, weaves into Eddie’s heartbeat:

not-dead, not-dead, not-dead

in-love, in-love, in-love—

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 

♥️

divider credit here

[abibliophobiaa]

Gone Fishing: And Baby Makes Three…

this was originally a request from my dear friend Katie (but tumblr ate it, so it no longer exists) and it spiraled into a short little mini series (tagged on my masterlist). just sweet little blurbs when i get a request or the mood strikes.

original prompt: eddie tells wayne he’s going to be a grandpa.

warnings/tags: r is pregnant; mentions of pregnancy and related symptoms; dad!eddie munson x afab!fem!reader. (2k words)

-

Eddie had come home from work one day and found you sitting in the kitchen with Steve and Nancy’s newest little one. A wrinkly faced newborn with Steve’s dark head of hair and Nancy’s eyes. And when Steve had handed that baby to Eddie, your eyes had softened in a way he’d never seen before.

He supposed it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when later that night you'd asked him if he wanted to try for one of your own. And it wasn’t like he’d been opposed to the idea—he’d married you with the intention of starting a family some day.

In all honesty, the trying to get pregnant part…well, that had been fun. He’d just anticipated a little bit of time between deciding to start trying and getting pregnant. But two months later, you’d come home from the doctor with a photo in hand of his affectionately named “little gummy bear.”

It hadn’t looked like much at the time. A tiny little blob with wriggly limbs, if he was being honest with himself. But you’d cried when you held the grainy picture in front of him, and he’d cried too, holding you on his lap at the kitchen table.

Soon enough, another month passed and you were far enough along you felt comfortable enough to tell those around you your exciting news. Naturally, you suggested the two of you tell Wayne first. It felt right to do so, you told him, and he’d agreed.

You were glowing and beautiful, like Nancy had mentioned people said happened during pregnancy one day over dinner, but not your fullest self. Most mornings Eddie felt the bed dip as the sun rose in the sky, and joined you with a hand to comfort in any way possible when you rushed to the bathroom. Whether it was a warm palm sliding up and down your back or the chill of his skin on your clammy cheek, he’d wanted to be there in whatever capacity you’d allow. He’d carry your struggles on his back if he was able to. You were doing all the work, after all. And he was grateful for it—grateful for you.

The evening you were meant to tell Wayne over dinner, you’d been sick since the morning—all day, really, and it pained him to see you like that. He watched you washing dishes in the kitchen while Wayne settled down in the living room with a freshly opened beer, feeling his heart double in size when your eyes lifted and met his.

You’d always been beautiful, but there was something different about you lately. Nancy said that the “glow” people often spoke of was from the endless hormones raging through your body. Some of which he’d become well-acquainted with these few weeks, because they made your emotions vary between happy and sad in a split second—often to his own detriment.

But he really thought they’d gotten it all wrong; he thought that the glow came from the way you were so in love, it manifested on the outside with no more space to contain itself. And if it made him pathetic to admit how in love with you he was, especially so as of late, he’d happily own up to it.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked, moving over to where you stood with your hips flush against the countertop, your head bent a little low as you scrubbed idly at a dirty plate. His fingers curled along the side of your cheek, turning your face so your eyes would meet his. His thumb tapped at your chin, your lips tugging upward weakly. “There you are. Why don’t you go lay down, hmm? I’ll take care of the rest of the dishes.”

“Eddie.” You placed the dish down in a drying rack and huffed out a slow breath.

“You were up at three in the morning—” He chuckled when you opened your mouth to protest and nudged your cheek with his nose, brushing a kiss there. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I still want you to tell Wayne. I think it’ll be nice for you two to share that memory,” you admitted softly, leaning into his shoulder, one arm wrapping loosely around his waist.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

You wrinkled your nose, grinning. “Only every day.”

He dropped his ringed fingers down to your sweater, sliding over your midsection, seeking the comfort of your warmth. You sighed against his neck, head tucking against his throat, and he murmured, “Please let me take care of the kitchen? I’ll feel ten times better if you go get some rest.”

It took a little bit more convincing, and a brush of lips against your brow with a muttered reassurance he’d take care of everything, before you retreated to your bedroom and closed the door behind you. Eddie worked in quick silence to finish up where you’d left off, calling over his shoulder to his Uncle that he’d just be a minute.

His Uncle leans back with a great sigh, hand waving unhurriedly in the air. “No rush, boy.”

And once he’d finished scrubbing the remnants of dinner off the final plate to tuck it away in the drying rack, he flounced over to the kitchen table where you’d wrapped a gift for his Uncle. He double checked the little card tucked in between sheets of tissue paper, pushed it to the front of the bag, and snatched the handles in his hand.

A crooked, lopsided smile crosses Wayne’s face that matches the one Eddie wore, eyes widening in curiosity at the gift dangling in his nephew’s hand. “It’s not my birthday, y’know,” he said, placing his beer down on the coffee table. Eddie leaned back on the couch beside him, nerves bubbling to life at what lay within. Wayne’s smile dropped, concern lining his features as he asked, “Is the little missy not feelin’ okay?”

Eddie sighed heavily. “Yeah, she’d been up this morning sick. I told her to go lay down,” he admitted, thumbing at his ring finger, twirling the yellow gold wedding band around and around in his nervousness. “Open the card first.”

“What are you doin’? More jittery than normal,” he chided, but slid his finger beneath the edge of the envelope all the same, opening the lip to reveal a Hallmark card. On the front was a golden trophy, with a banner stretched across reading ‘The World’s Greatest Pop Pop.’ His head turned to Eddie, the creases around his mouth deepening as he swallowed thickly and opened the card. The older man rubbed a hand over his mouth, throat clearing as his eyes reread the words on the card over and over again. “My boy. Are you tellin’ me I’m gonna be a grandpa? The Mrs. Munson is havin’ a baby?” At Eddie’s slow nod, Wayne barked out a disbelieving but excited laugh, pulling his nephew into a rough hug.

Eddie swallowed the knot forming in his throat. Exhaled deeply to keep the tears at bay. He’d been doing that a lot since finding out you were expecting; blubbered when you told him you were pregnant, then once more when he’d accompanied you for the next doctor’s appointment and saw the little thing for himself, and then once more when he’d heard the heartbeat for the first time.

“Finish opening your gift before you start getting all sappy and shit,” he teased, choking on his own emotions. Wayne slid out the grainy photo from the last ultrasound, thumb running along the tiny outline of the little one. Eddie grinned, leaning over to trail a finger along the form. “That’s from an earlier appointment. I can show you what they look like now. Less…alien-gummy bear hybrid, more…actual baby. With fingernails, the doctor said. Thought that was pretty cool.”

Wayne huffed out a watery laugh and fished out the pieces of tissue paper within the package. His mouth worked silently over the emotions riling in his gut as he lifted a hat within his palm and glanced at the words etched across the front. There at the top, was a fish with a reel swirling around in a loop, poised at its opened mouth. Then, in blocky lettering below, read ‘Reel Cool Pop Pop.’

When Wayne leaned back, his teary eyes scanned Eddie’s face, frown setting further into the wrinkle lines crowding his lips. “What’s wrong, boy? I can tell somethin’ is goin’ ‘round in that head of yours.” He knocked his weathered knuckles lightly against Eddie’s temple; Eddie nudged his head away, lips quirking with a smile despite himself. “C’mon now. Your brow’s wrinklin’ like your momma’s did when she used to worry.”

“I’m happy. Shit– I’m so excited, but I…” He paused, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I’m, ah, in a few months I’m gonna be a dad and I don’t know why, but the universe thinks I’m ready for that.”

“Listen, I know what you’re thinkin’. But I’m gonna tell you right now that you are not your old man. You’re a good man, Ed. Gave me hell for a few years, but I know you’re ready,” he said, lowering his head to where Eddie’s palms slid down his face, an exhausted sigh falling through the gaps between his fingers. “Got a good head on your shoulders and a big heart. Been a good husband to your wife, and I know you’ll make a fine dad. I’m proud of you. So very proud of you, son.”

Later that evening, when Eddie entered your shared bedroom with joy in his heart and excitement bubbling in his blood, you shifted up onto your elbow. You peered over at him with a wide grin across your pretty features. Asked, “What’s making you smile like that?”

Eddie’s grin widened, hand splaying over his heart like a love struck fool as he practically threw himself onto the bed, singing, “You're havin' my baby what a lovely way of sayin' how much you love me.”

The sleeves of your too-long sweater covered your face, body rolling away from him, mortified. “Edddds, no. Please no Paul Anka song again.”

His nose pressed into your cheek as his chin hooked over your shoulder. Lips smacked a loud kiss against your cheek, an amused chuckle spilling from his lips. “What? I’m a man madly in love with his wife. What’s wrong with that?”

Nothing. Nothing at all, so you shifted closer to him, back aligning with his chest as his arms wound tight around your waist. You let out a contented hum as his palm drifted along the waistband of your jeans and beneath the hem of your sweater, lingering over the secret growing beneath your heart. “I love you, too,” you whispered, hand affectionately grazing over the back of his. “Was Wayne happy?”

“Over the moon. Said he thinks it’s a boy.”

And seven months later, he’d be right.

Wayne entered that hospital with balloons in one hand and a teddy bear in another. His weathered face drew tight as he ducked into the room you’d been moved into to rest and recover, hand waving in greeting to where Eddie sat at your bedside with his newborn son cradled in the crook of his elbow. An infant boy with dark hair like his and the eyes of the woman he loved. Eddie leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, pride at what you’d done to bring your son into the world still glowing bright in his chest, and waved his uncle over. Watched as Wayne placed the gifts down onto the small couch pressed against the corner wall and drifted nearer to your bedside.

Eddie’s lips quirked into a bright smile as his uncle glanced down at the little blue bundle in his arms, before glancing up. “Congratulations, you two.”

Eddie glanced your way briefly to capture your glowing smile—to take in the way your eyes had never once left your son’s since his arrival on this side of earth, and then lifted to his uncle’s, your voice tired as you asked, “Wanna hold your grandson?”

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely, breaking off to clear his throat and inhale deeply. Eddie swapped places, climbing up from the makeshift rocking chair to allow Wayne to sit, before he leaned down and brushed a kiss against the baby’s head. Once his uncle situated himself, Eddie lowered the infant into his arms. “What did you two end up namin’ him?”

Your eyes flickered briefly to Eddie’s, head bobbing with a nod. Eddie brushed his thumb along his son’s cheek and said proudly, “James Aragorn Munson.”

James shifted in his grandfather’s arms. His head moved to seek out the shelter of his warmth—to seek out the love he’d already known in his short span of time in the outside world.

“Welcome, James.” Wayne moved his rough palm to the back of the baby’s head and shifted him on his lap so he lay stretched out before him. The older man admired those tired eyes that blearily gazed up at him with a tenderness that knocked the wind out of Eddie. James’ mouth opened in a little grunt, eyes closing once more in contentment, unknowing that he’d already stolen the hearts of the three watching him with rapt attention. “I’m your Pop Pop. We’ve been waitin’ for you.”

-

[justmeinadaze]

Playing the Game Part 10 (Steve X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: I bare you this gift because I can! (And I love you).

There's definitely a taglist somewhere. Idk where it is. Please enjoy! This series was my first time writing for Daddy Steve. I think I've gotten better. ENJOY! <3

Warnings: Daddy Steve and Sub Plus Size Reader and all that implies (I regret nothing!), Smut, angst, and all the fluff. Steve and Y/N get into a fight and he throws a tantrum (and something of the readers against a wall).

Word Count: 3432

It had been two years since you started your relationship with Steve Harrington. You two had been living together for just shy of a year and happier than you ever thought you could be. Your sex life between you guys had hit heights you didn’t think possible. Before he moved in, you both had just started treading the line of Steve being more dominant in the bedroom. 

Now he was more than comfortable when it came to punishments and keeping your bratty butt in line. The quiet moments were even sweeter, when he would hold you after and tell you how much he loved you. In the mornings, sometimes he would surprise you with breakfast in bed or at night take you out to a fancy dinner where he could show you off, dancing with you till the restaurant you were at had to close. 

Your family fully embraced him especially since his dad still hated that you were together. Instead of cutting Steve off like he threatened, he severely reined in the income he provided to his son hoping that it would scare him enough to leave you causing fights between the two of you often. 

“Steve, I feel bad! I feel like you struggle because of me!”

“Baby girl, I’m alive because of you! You woke me up to what actually being fucking happy feels like!”

“That’s sweet and everything but some of the extra stuff you insist on doing for me is financially draining you—”

“Don’t talk down to me like your him! I have enough money to take care of us AND give you the life you deserve!”

“But the thing is you don’t!”

“What should I do, huh? You want me to break up with you so I can get my inheritance back? Then what? I’ll just go back to my apartment, sit alone, and just be miserable for the rest of my life. But, hey, at least I’ll be rich!”

“Penny for your thoughts, babe.”, Robin smiles as she bumps you with her hip. 

“I just…I don’t know. Steve’s been acting kind of different lately. I feel bad because I know he wants to take care of me and be that ever attentive boyfriend but with my salary and his income at Family Video…”, you sigh. “I wish he understood that I don’t need the extras. I just want him.”

You friend pulls you into her arms as she hugs you. 

“The financial thing won’t be an issue too much longer if he lands this job at his dad’s firm.”, Eddie retorts as he continues staking comics on the shelf in front of him. 

“I’m sorry. When he what?”

Eddie’s eyes meet yours in apprehension. “I…thought you knew. He’s been interviewing at his dad’s office these past couple of weeks.”

You glance at Robin whose eyes are just as wide as yours. “He didn’t mention anything to me.”

“Why did he tell you, Munson?”

“Again, I thought you knew, sweetheart. He didn’t imply that you didn’t. He picked me up from the bar about a week ago wearing a suit. I asked him why he was all dressed up and he told me. No hesitation of anything.”

As if on cue, Steve enters your store shaking his umbrella before placing it near the door. As he turns to face everyone, he realized you guys were already staring at him. 

“Hey?”

Your head tilts to the side as you fold your arms over your chest. 

“Wow, holy shit. Look at that comic I see on the wall over there in the back of the store where I can’t hear a thing. Eddie, can you show it to me?”

“No. I want to watch her kill him.”

Steve’s head turns to his friend as Robin growls. “Come on, you idiot.”, she scolds as she tugs on his arm.

“Ok, apparently I did something.”

“You look good, Harrington. No interview at your dad’s firm today?” 

His jaw tightens as he walks towards you, placing his jacket on the counter. 

“Not today no. My final interview is Friday.”

“And you didn’t tell me because…”

“I knew you would get mad.”

“You’re fucking right I would except now I’m even more angry because you hid it from me. Steve, you can’t work there. It will be like living with him all over again.”

“First off, you need to check that tone, little one. Secondly, I handled it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Y/N, it’s a good job. I’ll make more money, benefits, and things like that. And… he said he would give me my inheritance back even if we stay together.”

Your mouth opened to say something but the words wouldn’t come out. The only words you could manage to muster out was a meek but strong, “Fuck you.”

Steve’s eyes lit a blaze as he stepped closer to you. “Want to try that again?”

“Fuck. You. EDDIE!”

“Yes! Yes, ma’am!”, the boy exclaimed as he skidded around the corner. 

“Close the store for me tonight.”, you glare at Steve as you toss the metalhead your keys. “Daddy and I have some things we need to hash out.”

###########

You angrily slam open your apartment door as you both stomp inside. 

“Well, baby girl, where do we begin?”, Steve asked sarcastically. 

“Don’t! Don’t you dare call me that right now Steve. I am furious with you!”

“You just called me by my title in front of one of our friends. I can call you whatever the fuck I want and you have no right to be angry with me! You’re the one that’s always saying you feel bad because you think it’s your fault that my father cut me off. Now I’ll get the money AND have a better income. What’s the fucking problem!?”

“The problem is you are going to be fucking miserable! Do you really think that makes me feel better?! You working somewhere you hate? Why does it have to be with him?! There are so many other companies you can apply for.”

“My father runs almost every major company in Hawkins, honey. There is no where I could go where I wouldn’t be under his thumb.”

“Then why leave Family Video. You love it there and working with Robin.”

“I love you more.”

“Steve, what does that even mean?! I have never asked you to be anything more than yourself and to do what makes you happy. I’ve also told you a thousand times I don’t need extra things like fancy dinner dates or jewelry!”

His head snapped towards you then, glaring at you through angry eyes. “Fine! You know what? Fuck it! You’re right, Y/N. I spoil you too fucking much. We don’t need these extra things. You don’t want me to take you to dinner that’s fine.” He glides past you into your shared bedroom and starts pulling things out of your closet. “These clothes and my suits? Don’t need them.” 

Steve grabs the box you keep your jewelry in and hurls it across the room. “Won’t be needing that anymore. From now on, baby, I���m going to be one of those strict Daddy’s. You don’t need any of these things or want any of the nice shit I do for you, right? RIGHT?!”

“Jesus, you’re already starting to sound like him.” He charges up to you till his face is hovering just above your own. Your fury filled eyes meet his as you stare at each other. “Steve, I—”

“Don’t talk. Just listen, little girl.” His nostrils flare as your jaw clenches. This was the first time since you told him the origin of your hatred for that name that he had used it and it still seemed to get a rise out of you. “I’m tired of having this fucking fight. I know you feel bad that my dad cut me off but that had nothing to do with you. That was a long time coming. Do you seriously think being me, I wouldn’t have done something to piss him off.”

“Then why work for him, Steven?” If he was going to use the name you hated, you could play that game to. His face twitched in anger but you noticed something else that you hadn’t seen before. “Are you hiding something from me? Beside the interviews…”

He turned away from you, grabbing his jacket as he headed for the front door. Hastily, you ran to cut him off, placing your body in front of it. 

“Daddy, what’s going on?”

“Move.”

“No.”

“God, you are just on a roll today with being a fucking brat.”

“Said the baby who doesn’t feel man enough to tell me the entire truth.”

He snickered as he took a couple steps aways from you. A few moments passed before he finally spoke. 

“I went to a jewelry store with Jonathan a couple of weeks ago. He was looking at engagement rings because he wants to purpose to Nancy. While we were browsing, I kept thinking ‘This would look beautiful on Y/N.’ or ‘I bet baby girl would love this one.’” He chuckles out a sigh as he turns to look at you. “Honey, even a down payment on the cheapest engagement ring is over a month’s worth of my income at Family Video. Then I got to thinking ‘Geez, Harrington. Can’t even afford the fucking wedding ring. How are you going to help pay for the wedding? Honeymoon? A house so you and Y/N can start a family? Kids…”

“Steve—”

“So you’re right. Not only am I not man enough to tell you the truth but I’m not man enough to fucking give you the life that you deserve.”

You felt terrible. He had never mentioned any of this to you so you thought he has trying to make more money to be able to provide you extras but instead was willing to work under a man he hates to give you what he considered as necessities.

“Steve, I—”

“Just move, Y/N. I need to clear my head.”

You threw your arms around his waist as his remained at his sides. “Daddy, I love you so much. I wish I could make you understand, I…I don’t need a fancy ring, honeymoon, or even a fancy house. All I need is you. If you want to work at a different place or make more money that’s fine. I support you but don’t do it for me. Do it for you and do something that makes you happy.”

He sighed; his tone still stern but much softer than before. “This is the last time I’m going to ask. Move. Or I will move you.”

You did as you were told and he slammed the front door as he left you alone.

#############

Steve wasn’t gone for long, coming back an hour and a half later to find you on the floor of your bedroom next to the pile of clothes he had thrown with your knees to your chin and your head in your lap. 

He moved the bottle of vodka to your side out of the way as he sat down, leaning against the wall behind you. 

“Y/N…”, he began but your gravelly voice cut him off. 

“I hate when you leave like that.”, you turn so your watery eyes can find his. “I know you’re just trying to cool off but I hate not knowing where you are especially after a fight. I get scared you’re going to disappear again.”

“I went for a walk. Just around this little area, ya know? There’re these two-story houses back there.”, he gestures absently outside. “There’s one in particular with stuff hung up in the window that have to belong to a little boy’s room. Sometimes, I picture me coming up the driveway in my BMW, running up the walkway in my suit and some kind of ratty but overpriced brief case filled with documents I don’t care about.”

You scoot back so your closer to him as you listen to him speak.

“I would open the door and see my beautiful wife sitting in the living room with our kid who definitely has my hair…” He smiles when you giggle. “…and you’re reading them one of the new comics you got from the store. As I head towards you guys to see what you’re up to, I pass our wedding photo. Robin has on this goofy pink bridesmaid dress you picked out but she’s rockin’ it.”

“I always liked purple.”, you grin. 

“Oh, that’s a good choice. Eddie and Dustin are making stupid faces that they refer to as metal.”, he playfully rolls his eyes. “You stand out though…in your gorgeous white dress that just flows perfectly around your hips… and you have this…fucking beautiful wide smile…”, Steve’s voice cracks as he turns his head away from you.

“Daddy…”

“You think I just want to make more money to do this extra stuff for you and yeah, I do. I wish I could do more than just dinner and a fancy necklace. My dad always took my mom to Europe and things like that before he fully settled into being a douchebag. But the things I do for you now, I do because I CAN afford them and I do them because I fucking love you. This job? My inheritance? I’m doing that for us.”

His hand reaches out to caress your cheek. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, baby girl. I want THATlife with you.”

You tackle him, crashing your lips to his. Steve’s back falls against the floor as you straddle his waist, his hands brush your hair back as he holds your face to his. Your kisses come with a sense of urgency as if you’ll explode if you don’t have him right this moment. 

Leaning back, you hastily pull off his shirt as his own palms rip yours open. Pushing the garment down your arms, he tosses it to the side as he sits up to suck on that sweet spot on your neck that has you running your fingers through his hair as you moan. 

As your hips grind against his, he groans, flipping you on to your back as he yanks off your bra and squeezes your tits roughly in his hands. Steve’s tongue plays with your nipples as your back arches, pushing yourself harder against him. 

“Please, Daddy. F-fuck. Fuck me.”

He growls at the sound of you begging, needing to be inside of you just as badly. With your legs still clinging to him, he sits back on his knees to unbutton your pants, trying desperately to tug them off. Quickly lifting yourself up, you unbuckle his belt blindly as your mouth trails kisses up his stomach. 

Steve sighs happily above you as his fingers tangle in your hair before pulling your head back to kiss your lips. 

Raising your body, you allow him to remove your jeans and panties so he can do the same as you get to your feet. You wrap your arms around his neck as he follows you to your bed, collapsing on top of you as his tongue glides along your skin. 

“Daddy. I need you…please…”

“You need me? Where do you need Daddy, baby girl?”

You whimper as you roll your hips, dragging your pussy lips along his cock. “I need you inside of me, Daddy. I need you to fuck me.”

Steve smirked as he spit into his palm, stroking himself a few times before guiding himself into your core. Your eyes rolled back as he gradually lowered his chest to yours, balancing on his elbows as he gazed down at you. 

“How do you need it, honey? Do you need it deep…and…hard?” With those last few words, he roughly thrust his hips into yours, grinning as your mouth fell open. “Yeah? Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yes—mmm—your cock feels good. Tell me…tell me more about…our future, Daddy.”

A breathy laugh escapes his chest. “What do you want to know?”

“Are you still fucking me like this?”

His grin grows as his forehead presses against yours. “Baby girl, I’ll be making love to you till we physically can’t and even then, the nurses will have to pull us apart.”

You laugh and he stops moving as he watches you. “How do you see our future?”

You lift your head to kiss him. “All I see is you.”

Steve pumps into you again at a faster rhythm as you drag your nails down his back. “Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you squeeze my cock when you do.”

Your hands clung to his shoulders as the ball in your belly dropped and you panted out moans as you came. 

“Yes… fucking good girl. My good girl.”, he praises as he chases his high. 

His breathing stutters as he grunts just above your lips. Pressing him tighter to you, you felt him warm your insides as he thrust his seed into your sex. 

Delicately, he pulls out of you, Steve’s strong hands behind your back as he lifts you to your feet.

“Be careful, baby. Don’t step on the things here.” He gestures towards your jewelry box he threw. You silently nodded as he led you into the bathroom and prepared the shower.

“How much control would he have over you?” Steve looks down at you in confusion as he guides you under the water before following behind. “Your father?”

“Not much but he owns the company and is in the building so…” As he starts to clean your body, he notices your eyes stare off into the void. “What are you thinking, honey?”

“My dad has been wanting to invest some money and purchase another business in Hawkins. Right now, he just owns the shop my mother works at. I shouldn’t say just…I mean the store has made a lot of money for them both. What if… he could convince the owner to sell Family Video?”

“Y/N, if he wants to invest money somewhere he should do it in you. You love that comic bookstore.”

“Yeah, but I love you more.”, you respond coyly raising your eyebrow as you repeat his earlier words. “Plus, the lady that owns my store is barely involved and trusts me with everything so it’s basically already mine. Steve, my family loves you and he would definitely take care of you, Robin, and Keith.”

His forehead leans down against yours as you wrap your arms around him. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to talk to him about it.”

“Yay!” Steve smiled against your kisses as you excitedly brought his lips to yours. “I just want you to be happy….I just want you.”

After finishing your shower, he dries you, tugs one of his shirts over your head, and places you into bed. You watch him as he wonders around the room, tugging on some shorts before bending down to gather your jewelry box in the corner. 

“I’m sorry for this.”, his jaw clenches as he hangs his head. “I’m sorry if I scared you or anything.”

“You behaving like a baby doesn’t scare me.”

Steve chuckles as he smirks in your direction. “I deserve that.”

“You hiding things from me and then leaving like you did. THAT frightens me…”

“I deserve that to.”, he sighs. Steve walks on his knees towards the side of the bed and reaches over to pet your head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner that I was interviewing at my dad’s firm. Seeing those engagement rings had me both excited and terrified. I spent so much time not being with you when I could have been, you know? I feel like I wasted so much time being a dumbass that I want my life with you to begin as soon as possible. I’m just broke as hell.”

He smiles when you laugh. “You started off sounding like this would be a great proposal speech and then ended it like that!” Your fingers grip the ones he has resting on your cheek. “Baby, you could purpose to me with a zip tie and I would say yes. Our wedding could be in the Hawkins grocery store wearing overalls with messy hair and I would still say I do. You don’t need to impress me with over the top or even traditional things. I’m already impressed, Daddy.”

Steve leans up to kiss your lips, yelping jokingly when you pull him on top of you. 

“Now that was a way better proposal speech, baby girl.”

[writtenfromhawkins]

hoax - part two.

ship: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: as you had feared, your fake date changed the dynamic between you and steve. but maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. 

word count: 2.7k

warnings: swearing, alcohol, princess bride spoilers (kind of? i don’t know, it’s been thirty years, watch the movie and then talk to me about it because it’s my favorite).

author’s note: it’s finally here! hope everyone enjoys it. @taylorsmylover​ @sllooney​ @cheerupbarry​

part one.

all's well that ends well to end up with you.

After Steve dropped you off at home, life went on. You worked, you studied, you spent time with your friends—including him. Nothing felt off per se, but there was a shift, a change in routine, a difference maybe not dramatic to you, but something the others definitely picked up on.

For movie night, your suggestion The Princess Bride lost handily. Despite that, though, Steve still showed up with a copy.

“Oh,” he’d said, almost sheepish, “this isn’t the one we agreed on? Sorry, guys.”

The two of you sat a little closer on the couch, whispered softer, and giggled more. He rolled his eyes and grumbled when you talked about how cute Cary Elwes was, you playfully smacked his bicep in response. It was a nice, quiet night, totally typical, so you couldn’t figure out why Robin looked so perplexed when you caught her eye from across the room.

Maybe if that had been it—just one weird night of affection—your friends could have left it alone, chalking it up to a lapse of judgment on your part. But it didn’t stop. Hugs went on for too long, and smiles lingered. Any time you passed, his hand somehow found the small of your back, guiding you by. Sure, Steve was known to be affectionate with you, boundaries long abandoned, so it wasn’t that weird. But the way you’d lean into each touch was a new development. Although not as alarming of one as Steve’s very recent lack of flirting.

Cute girl after cute girl passed through Family Video without receiving so much as a wink or a terribly delivered pick up and Robin was becoming increasingly concerned. If he wasn’t sick, and he wasn’t, he wasn’t whining enough for that, it meant something else was going on.

“Harrington,” she hissed one day, eyes wide, “that total babe was throwing herself at you. That, like, never happens.”

“Was she?” Steve’s bewilderment was genuine, he simply hadn’t noticed.

“Come on, you didn’t see that? I could feel the sexual tension from here.”

“Nope,” he answered, popping the ‘P’. “Guess she just wasn’t my type.”

But Robin knew better, he wasn’t exactly discerning; anyone with a pulse and boobies was his type. Something was up and, after conspiring—gossiping—with Eddie, she was determined to figure out what exactly it was.

—     

You’d probably never admit it, especially not unprompted, but Tuesday was your favorite day of the week. Sure, you were stuck at work for far too long—three doubles allowed you the freedom to study while also affording you the luxury of paying your bills—but it was also heavy metal night. Pickings were slim in a town the size of Hawkins and, as a result, Corroded Coffin got the chance to basically do a full set and you got to see your friends.

It became routine ever since Eddie joined your little group. You, of course, had no choice but to be in attendance. But Steve and Robin would come by too. Your regulars hadn’t been too receptive to the band—you’d been asked what is this ruckus? too many times to count—so, while none of you were exactly metal heads, you figured three confused, but supportive faces in the crowd couldn’t hurt. Besides, you found if you cheered loud enough, you could get most of the other bargoers on board. 

So it was no surprise to see Eddie step through the dinged door, followed promptly by Robin. Even if they were a little early.

“Hey, guys,” you call out, waving. 

You duck below the bar where the sanitizing bucket and rags were located. The very brief lull after Happy Hour didn’t allow for much dallying and you were stuck doing your regular tasks in a very short window of time: clean the bar, get clean glasses, and cut up your garnishes. 

You grab a torn piece of fabric, dip it in the cleaning solution carefully and stand. You’re barely back to your full height when you’re greeted by Eddie and Robin’s faces just inches from yours. They’re leaning forward, elbows resting on the very surface you need to clean. 

“Jesus Christ!” You rear back, free hand jumping to your chest. 

“Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” Eddie asks, raising his brows. He can’t help it—he’s curious.

“Yeah,” Robin encourages with a nod, “we don’t keep secrets here.”

You sigh, reaching out and pushing them back gently so you can wipe up rings of condensation and spilled booze. “I’d really like to play along but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Robin laughs. If it sounds like she doesn’t believe you it’s because she doesn’t. “Uh huh, sure.”

“Something’s up with you and Steve, we can tell.”

You freeze. “I—what?”

“You’re not denying it,” Eddie points out, grinning.

“No, she’s not,” Robin agrees.

It was then you realize what was going on: you were being interrogated. “Nothing’s going on. We’re friends.”

“We’re friends and he’s not all over me,” Robin points out.

“Yeah, I wonder why that is,” you quip.

“The Princess Bride!”

“What?”

“The Princess fucking Bride,” Eddie repeats himself, eyeing you knowingly. “I was finally gonna get you guys to watch Labyrinth and he showed up with that.”

“He grabbed the wrong movie, so what?” You pause. “And you loved The Princess Bride!”

“Yeah,” Eddie admits with a chuckle, “I really did. It has some really badass sword scenes and Andre the Giant, what’s not to like?” All very fair points.

Robin sighs, poking at his shoulder. “You’re getting distracted.” She fixes her gaze on you. “Steve is the worst liar. You gotta know he did that on purpose.”

Alright, yeah, you kinda did. He wasn’t going to be getting any Oscars any time soon. But it was an act you didn’t—couldn’t—think too much about.

If you really considered it, after that night with his parents, a switch flipped, and never went back. You weren’t together, you were still very much just friends, but the touches, the unbridled affection, the soft moments didn’t stop after the facade ended and you weren’t complaining.

The dam had burst and you didn’t think you could go back. You worried if you brought it up, shining a spotlight on the niceties, that it would all end. You were selfish—you wanted it all.

“Okay…” You let out a huff of air. “So, we did kinda go on a date.”

The revelation sends Robin spiraling. “What?” She exclaims, dramatically throwing herself on the bar—she couldn’t just feel her despair, she had to show it too. “And here I thought you were the one girl in town left immune to the Harrington… uh, charm, I guess?”

“Shush,” you admonish, shooting her a warning look. You turn, flashing your customers an apologetic before your focus turns back to your friends. “It wasn’t real.”

“Alright, you lost me now,” Eddie pipes up.

Robin raises her head just enough so she can look up at you through long lashes. “What does that mean?”

“His dad was being a dick about some work dinner and he needed a plus one.” You shrug. “I just had to act like his girlfriend.”

“Oh god,” Robin groans. “Can’t believe we gave him that much credit.”

“Huh?”

“He’s been making goo-goo eyes at you for ages.”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums in agreement. “It’s kinda gross.”

“We thought he finally did something about it. Even though I always thought you were too smart for that.”

They kept going but your mind was reeling. “Goo-goo eyes?”

“You’re still on that?” Robin can’t hide it, she was enjoying this. “Yes, he practically turns into a Bugs Bunny cartoon with giant heart eyes every time he sees you. And, in true dingus fashion, he asks you on a fake date instead of a real one.” She shakes her head. “Makes no sense but it obviously worked on you somehow.”

“It didn’t—I—”

“Oh, come on.”

You blink, there’s nothing for you to say. You can’t exactly argue with Robin but actually agreeing feels wrong too. You’re stuck, two pairs of eyes trained intently on you, and you’re desperate for escape. You scan the crowd of bored-looking customers, none of which seem to eagerly need you, before you catch glimpse of the empty stage.

“Don’t you have a show or something?”

Eddie smirks. He knows what you’re doing but, in an act of pity, he decides to play along. “As a matter of fact, I do. Think the boys should be here by now. Wanna help us set up, Rob?”

“Sure.” She spins around on the stool and, when she gets up, you think you’re free. Until she calls over her shoulder, “Better figure it out soon, lover girl.”

—

Less than an hour later, the stage was full of instruments, microphones, and, most importantly, the band itself. The crowd increased, although not entirely for the music, and you didn’t notice Steve arrived until he was standing right before you.

Your grip on the bottle of Southern Comfort you were holding slackened a bit. All you could think was goo-goo eyes.

“Hey. sweetheart,” he grins, plopping down and claiming the nearest bar stool as his own.

You hold up a finger, letting him know you’d be with him in a minute, as you replace the bottle of whiskey with sloe gin and amaretto—with both hands officially occupied, you poured an ounce of each into the shaker.

“Crazy night,” you let him know, voice just barely able to be heard over the screeching of electric guitars and booming drums. You’re talking but you’ve yet to really look at him.

Orange juice fills the rest of the metal cup before you’re sliding a cover on, throwing it over your shoulder, and shaking the cup from side to side. Once it’s mixed and chilled, you drain it out into a Collins glass, admiring the brightly colored liquid that trickled out. Prettiest Alabama Slammer you’ve made yet.

That drink belongs to the redhead at the end of the bar. You slide it over to her with the friendliest “there ya go, love” you could muster before walking back over to your newest customer.

“Want your regular, Stevie?”

When he gives you the affirmative, you get to work. Whiskey sour, very light on the sour.

It’s easy enough and you’re handing him his drink in record time. In exchange, as always, you get far too much money. You used to argue, your attempt at letting him know he was being too generous, but he’d never budge—if he could, he’d give you even more, you were worth every penny.

He sips it casually while studying you over the rim of the glass. You looked pretty, that never seemed to change, but your shoulders were stiff and your jaw clenched. He could tell something was up. “You seem tense.”

You got that right. “I’m fine, just a little tired, I guess.”

It’s an easy lie after being at work for nine hours but it was one Steve didn’t really buy. Not that he pushed it. The two of you were close enough that he knew if you wanted to talk to him, you would. So he changed the subject. “Where’s Robin?”

“She’s around here somewhere. She showed up with Eddie to help set up.”

“Weird, we always come together.”

“Yeah, weird,” you agree. But he had no idea just how strange it was.

The mention of your mutual friend gets you thinking, though. You have no idea how Steve felt or if what they said was true, but you knew what was going on in your heart and your mind—and it was enough to alarm the people closest to you.

For the sake of the whole group, maybe it would be a good idea to just clear the air.

“Steve?” When he looks at you, you avert your gaze, focusing instead on the hanging wine glasses above the bar.  “What are you doing after this?”

“Hanging out with you.” The delivery was smooth, easy. But panic set in as he sat on the words, unease seeping through at the idea that you weren’t asking because you wanted to get together. “You, uh, know if that was like.. what you meant.”

It definitely was. “Come by my place after closing?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that.”

—

When you pull up outside your apartment hours later, Steve is already there, leaning against his car, waiting for you. You take a moment just to enjoy the sight—he looked like he belonged there, outside your home—before throwing your car in park and getting out.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” You suggest. “It’s late.”

You lead the way up rickety stairs, past long dead plants you’d since abandoned, and to your front door. It certainly wasn’t Steve’s first time at your place, but you couldn’t help it—you were nervous, unready for the conversation you were going to have to initiate. 

You look around for a moment, hoping for a distraction, one that would never come, you nod towards the living room. “We should sit.”

It’s a suggestion, but one Steve eagerly takes. As if it’s not your own home, he places his hand on your back, urging you forward until you’re both on the couch, almost touching. 

“You’re freaking me out with how quiet you are.”

You don’t mean to. It’s the one time in your life that you don’t know what to say. Still, you try.

“I talked to Robin and Eddie earlier.”

“The gruesome twosome,” Steve mutters. “They didn’t upset you or anything, did they?” Lord knows when they got together, especially alone, they could be a lot.

Not that he was complaining. Sure, they were a handful, but so were you and Dustin and the rest of the kids. He found himself in more trouble than ever and his blood pressure had certainly risen, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. After years of shitty friends and sycophants, he considered himself lucky to have a group of people who genuinely care for him.

None of that stopped him from worrying about what they could have done, though.

“No, no, nothing like that,” you answer quickly, assuaging his concerns. “I’ve just been thinking about what they said.”

“Uh oh, what was it?”

“This is totally crazy, but they think there’s something going on with us.” You expect Steve to laugh but he doesn’t. His cheeks flush and he looks away but he doesn’t seem to find it humorous. 

“They’re too nosey for their own good.” He shaves his head. “If they made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” you assure him. “I guess I just worried about things getting weird with us or, God forbid, the group.”

“Nothing will ever make things weird with us, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“The thing is... I don’t want anything to change either.” And you really don’t. “I, uh, I really like whatever we’re doing. Maybe too much?” It comes out like a question but it isn’t—it’s just the truth.

“I do too.”

There’s electricity in the air, a good tension.

“I always have,” Steve adds, emboldened by the disclosure. “I know we—I— joked around a lot but I think there always was some truth there.” He reaches over, grabbing ahold of your hand. “Then that night with my parents... which really was a favor, by the way. I didn’t have any gross ulterior motive.”

You squeeze his hand, not needing the assurance. You didn’t know a better human being; there was never a doubt about his intentions. “I know, Steve.”

“It was kinda the same, you know? You were still ridiculously pretty and I got to call you all those cutesy little names you love to hate. But it also felt serious. Like, it wasn’t real but it felt like it was.”

“I get what you mean,” you agree. “It just felt natural. I didn’t really want it to end.” 

“What if it didn’t have to?” Steve pauses for a moment, considering his words. “What if we tried it for real this time?”

You smile—big, bright, genuine—and Steve’s brain practically short circuits. “Are you asking me on an actual date?”

“I sure am.”

You can’t help yourself, the confirmation makes you giggle. He looks alarmed and you cover your face. “Hey,” he says, hands gently wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hands back down. “What’s so funny?”

“Robin is going to hate this.”

That gets him to laugh too. “God, you’re right. Especially when we tell her it’s all her fault.” 

“If only she kept her mouth shut,” you agree, your shoulder bumping against his.

“But thank God she didn’t.” Steve wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer. “I might have to send her a fruit basket or something.”

—

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Plus Size Series Masterlist

up to date as of 08/08/2022

*** - fics with this next to it means that they've just been added to list!

under the cut is all of the plus size reader inserts i've done!

STRANGER THINGS

Steve Harrington

It's Getting Hot In Here {NSFW}: It’s the middle of summer and Steve makes sure you know that you don’t have to hide your body from him.

Prom Queen of My Heart: Steve Harrington is obviously going to be voted Prom King. You know it’s tradition for Prom King and Queen to dance together but instead of dancing with Abigail Wickers, Steve comes to you, his plus size girlfriend, and chooses to dance with you instead.

Not Theirs: You're getting picked on at school and Steve steps up to defend you.

"You're basically a marshmallow, perfect for cuddling."

"I think the condom broke." NSFW

***Order's Up: Steve pretty much falls for you on the spot as you order ice-cream.***

Eddie Munson

Gotta Believe: Eddie overhears you getting bullied for your weight so he steps in and shuts it down.

***Pretty Eyes Series Masterlist: A series of one shots between Eddie and plus size reader***

***Three Times: You happen to bump into Eddie Munson three times and you start to see a different side to him.***

***Panic: Eddie knows you best and he's the one who helps when the panic starts to creep up.***

***Lose Control NSFW: Things get heated between you and Eddie when you decide to strip tease for him. ***

***The Bet: During a Dungeons and Dragons game, everything comes down to you.***

***Fake Boyfriends Don't Stay Fake For Long: You ask Eddie Munson to be your fake boyfriend to make your ex-boyfriend jealous.***

***Gotta Believe: Eddie overhears you getting bullied for your weight so he steps in and shuts it down.***

***Five More Minutes: Eddie loves to sleep and he loves to cuddle.

***Let Me Show You NSFW: You pull away from Eddie due to insecurities, he sets out to bring you back.***

MARVEL

Peter Parker MCU

So I Like This Girl...: You always thought you were the ‘fat friend’ but Peter thinks you’re more the ‘out of his league love interest’.

Peter Parker (TASM)

A Little Longer: Sometimes all Peter Parker needs is a day in bed with you.

Migraine: You have a migraine and Peter tries to make you feel better.

Overwhelmed: Peter's there to remind you to breathe when you need it most.

One Look (NSFW): Peter knows exactly how to get you hot and bothered.

I Got You: "You're not hurting me, you're not heavy. I've got you, love."

Plucking Up The Courage: Peter returns to his universe hopeful and filled with a new sense of optimism so he decides to ask out the cute school teacher he sees in the coffee shop.

Pet Names (NSFW): You have a thing for pet names and Peter has a thing for you.

Bucky Barnes

Favourite Place to Sleep: Bucky has a favourite place to sleep when he's with you.

"Another bad date?"

You'd Be Prettier If...: Bucky Barnes, a complete stranger, overhears how bad your date is going so he steps in.

Life Without Colour Series: Soulmate AU Steve/Reader/Bucky

One Day: "I just wish you saw yourself the way I see you."

That Same Love: Bucky comforts you when you feel horrible in a dress you'll be wearing to a family event.

Matt Murdock

Forgive Me Father (NSFW): You and Matt are friends. You visit his church and he suggests that the two of you go into confessional, adopting the role of the sinner the priest. Turns out, you spill all of your secrets about your feelings for him and you both become sinners that night.

Thor

Unworthy: You feel insecure and keep comparing yourself to others, Thor's there to comfort you.

Steve Rogers

Let Me Feel You NSFW: His favourite part of you is your curves.

Life Without Colour Series: Soulmate AU Steve/Reader/Bucky

Embrace: You have stretch marks and Steve makes you realise how beautiful they are.

Tony Stark

Stupid Sometimes: Tony Stark praises your curves, with no ill intent, but it upsets you because of past experiences. Once he realises that he’s upset you, he tries to show you he’s sorry.

Wanda Maximoff

Shapes and Sizes: Wanda makes you feel better about yourself, no matter what size you are.

Pietro Maximoff

Comfortable With Me: You and Pietro have been together for a while and he tries to make you more comfortable being naked around him.

Peter Maximoff (X-Men)

Absolutely Beautiful: Peter comforts you after you get bullied for your weight.

Loki

Divine: Loki buys you a new dress.

When A Trickster Meets A Trickster: You’re a trickster but Loki doesn’t know it so you mess with him for your own entertainment.

INDIANA JONES

Indiana Jones

Your Sad Nest: "It's not a nest." "Honey, you've grabbed all the blankets in the house. It's a nest." "I'm just sad and want to be cosy!"

Jealousy Suits You (NSFW): Indy sees you dressed up in an evening gown for the first time, he's in awe, but he's not the only one. He can't help but be a little unhappy at all the attention you're receiving.

Heels and Ladders: Those library ladders are dangerous, especially in heels.

All You Could Do: You sleep over at Indy's, it's the first time you find out he has nightmares. Some of the stuff he's seen has left a lasting impact, all you can do is hold him.

Stupid, Crazy Love: You mention Indy in the foreword dedication of your latest book. Your students keep asking not just you to sign it, but him as well. He keeps drawing little hearts with your initials in.

Let Me Help: You’re incredibly stressed between writing your most recent research paper, taking classes, helping with dissertations and thesis’, you’re running yourself into the ground and Indy takes notice and tries to help you relax.

You're Never Helping Again: A follow up to ‘Let Me Help’ in which it’s made apparently clear that Indy definitely overestimated his ability to teach the gendered nuances of Victorian Medical practice or something. All your students demand that you never let him teach one of their lessons again, He pretends that it went effortlessly and was the best lesson he’s ever taught.

Coffee and a Muffin on a Monday Morning: The students have a betting pool on when you’re going to get together with Professor Jones, some decide to ‘motivate’ the two of you.

Above and Beyond: During a lesson, you have a rude and arrogant student who makes you doubt your authority and ability to teach, Indy is there to remind you how good you are at your job.

Recognition: You know it’s love when he buys every book you’ve ever written and places them pride of place in his office.

Reminding You: The pencil skirt is the only clean skirt left in your wardrobe. You have to admit to yourself when you catch Indy staring, your butt does look good in it.

Say It Again: You find out his first names actually Henry and that Indiana was his dogs name. You think it’s cute. He doesn’t mind being called Henry when you say it.

Periods Through Different Time Periods: You're on your period, life sucks, Indy stays round. You wake up covered in blood. He makes things easier though, good thing he doesn't mind blood.

Never Again: You agree to go on a nice, simple, normal archaeological dig with Indy. Except it's never simple is it? Good thing the man's good with a gun and a whip.

Secret's Out: You're a fellow lecturer at the university.

THE 100

John Murphy

Be Both: When you're bullied for your weight, Murphy steps in.

STAR WARS

Obi-Wan Kenobi

***Worth More: You're insecure about your weight and Obi-Wan comforts you. ***

BROOKLYN NINE NINE

Jake Peralta

I See Everything: You're not used to receiving so many compliments.

THE HOBBIT

Kili

No Comparisons: You’re the only female member of the Company and Kili accidentally sees you bathing in the river.

HARRY POTTER

Charlie Weasley

"You're not hurting me, you're not heavy. I've got you, love."

Beach Bods: On a day trip to the beach with the Weasleys, Charlie is the one who helps you get over your body insecurities.

Trust Me Love: You think you’re too heavy to go on a horse ride, Charlie takes you on a dragon ride instead.

Summer Mornings (NSFW): You're a friend of the twins and spend summers at the Burrow. One summer, you and Charlie grow close and something blooms on those summer mornings.

"How many times do I have to tell you, you're beautiful no matter what!"

Ron Weasley

Care About Mine: Someone makes a comment about your weight so you decide to skip breakfast, it’s Ron who notices.

Fred Weasley

Princess: Fred asks you to the ball and treats you like the most beautiful one there.

Draco Malfoy

Five Years: You and Draco reminisce about your years at Hogwarts.

Blaise Zabini

Be My Date: Blaise Zabini finds you fascinating and asks you to the Yule Ball. You reject him thinking that he’s making fun of you but he goes out of his way to show you that he’s serious.

[dindjarinmandalorian]

Here’s the deal.. I’m posting these again because Stancy is real. I genuinely don’t know why anyone as a director/writer would put the dialogue/ camera shots in the show like they have if it was all for nothing. Steve and Nancy both clearly deeply care for one another. Steve we have seen this since season one. Season 2 ends at the Snowball and you can’t miss when Steve looks into the dance and stares longingly at Nancy. He still feels something for her. In Season 3. The First time Steve and Nancy see each other Nancy is EXTREMELY jealous that he is with Robin. Then As Nancy Shoots at Billy, Steve comes out of Nowhere in the car. Again we get two camera shots. One focused on Steve and One. On Nancy who looks to Steve in shock after being saved. In season 4 Dustin even points out, as does Robin that Nancy is the reason Steve doesn’t take any girl he dates on more then one date. He’s in love with one person…Nancy. Now for Nancy it’s different. This season we see the feelings. She starts the season with Steve in Episode 3. The moment she sees him and the gang she nearly begins to cry. We then see Steve say that Nancy needs someone with her. Robin interjects stating she’ll go. As Robin and Nance leave, Nancy turns back to Steve and gives him a very playful look. Next is key.. Nancy and Robin in the library. Nancy is Annoyed with Robin completely. She lashes out saying “ You’re obviously bored, so why don’t you just call, Steve. I’m sure he’ll come pick you up and I’m not in danger here.” Nancy is jealous. Robin follows her downstairs and states that she and Steve aren’t a thing. From this moment on the scenes with Robin and Nancy are different and lighter. Nancy knows they aren’t together.. relief for her. Not as much tension. It’s the playfulness we see in episode 5 in the creel house with her taking the webs from his hair. Again the Director shows us many looks between the two as they talk, some again season one looks. In Episode 6 “The Dive” First the conversation between Nancy and Robin about “rekindling some old flames that never should have been snuffed out.” The we get to, The Dive. What’s key here and very telling is How Nance reacts to Steve when he she notices him beginning to act like he’s going into the water. The director many times shows us solo shots of just Nancy’s reactions to what Steve says and does. (She almost interjects at one point, but doesn’t) Further when Steve is actually under water, we see the nervousness of Nancy. Robin asks her how much time he’s been underwater and she says about a minute. Again we get more solo shots of Worry and Concern on her face. Don’t know if anyone realized but when Steve surfaces and says he’s found the gate. Nancy’s smile is bigger then ever. She’s also smiling majorly while Steve explains the size of the gate. The directors and writers wanted us to see all of that. In Episode 7 The looks they give each other are clear. When Steve kills the Demobat she immediately checks on him. He makes his joke about being “never better” Nance let’s out a MAJOR sigh of Relief. Next. When she patches him up the longing stares they both share with each other. To me these were both vintage season 1 looks they are giving each other. Then we have the famous conversation that Eddie and Steve Share. Eddie tells Steve to get Nancy back. He’s “never seen such an ambiguous sign of true love” as Nancy diving in after him, not wasting a second. Then Finally again up to the writers and directors. Steve and Nancy are the last two to return to Hawkins. They could have done this in any order, anyone could have gone first or last up the rope but they leave us with Stancy. To end it. It’s clear. They have Major feelings for each other. Gonna be disappointed after all the camera shots, writing and directing going the way it did. Steve and Nancy don’t talk about closure on Barb, they’re future…. Addressing there feelings. Will be majorly disappointing if at the first sight of Jonathan everything is ok and boom basically Volume one didn’t happen for them.. Anyway let me know what you think. Long rant lol

P.S. People don’t look at each other like they do in the gifs and all season and not like each other.. Stancy

[wh0lemilk0vich]

ArgyleShirtSupply!Anon again

I did manage to come up with a bit more in the end 🙈🙈🙈

Eventually outfit try-ons are over and Steve feels like he can finally exhale

Eddie eventually gets to the bottom of his haul and disappointingly 3 of the tees, especially 1 Motörhead one that he had been REALLY excited about, don’t exaaactly fit

Not even not fitting in the same ways! As he’d angrily pointed that all out to Steve- one pinched his arms too much, as he’d shown Steve, jiggling and pinching his own arms right up close in Steve’s face, one’s seams were nearly popping! trying to hold Eddie’s width (and Steve is a GOOD!!!BOYFRIEND!! and he was definitely completely sympathetic hearing Eddie complain, and definitely not just completely uselessly turned on and spouting dumb platitudes when Eddie showed THAT off), and the other two were easily too short for Eddies whole belly

Steve, for one, has no complaints! verdict: A+ haul, 5 stars, thank you Argyle, Steve’ll throw in money and extra for the next lot of shirts

But for someone who was as excited as, and who can be as particular as, Eddie…it’s a bit of a bummer.

So now Steve has a slightly bummed, half naked boyfriend standing in front of him, scrutinising himself in the floor length mirror, whole body swaying gently side to side, as he shifts from foot to foot, deep in dejected thought

And Steve hates to say it…but he’s not completely surprised there were some sizing issues. Because his boy hasn’t ever really let up on getting bigger, and they phoned in his sizes to Argyle about 3 weeks ago.

But! Especially seeing Eddie as complete on show, completely well lit and from all angles at once, as Steve’s seen him all evening - zoning in and out, totally riveted by each movement- there’s definitely new movements, new folds and rolls, more inches to pinch and more of Eddie than there was even 3 weeks ago

There’s a horny clinical part of Steve’s brain that has been stuck on that the whole time: the newness of each visual discovery, wondering how it escaped his notice until now! How was he missing what was happening right in front of him. Steve’s already made up his mind that he can’t wait until next T-Short haul to have that thrill of discovery again, decided he needs to know Eddie’s body as much as he can, know every new part of it as soon as he can

But moreso- Eddie’s trying not to be, but he’s let down! His happy moods been kinda spoiled and Steve can’t have that happen again! Not on his watch!

So Steves a bit unsure, bit nervous about what he’s about to do, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Not sure Eddie will be in the mood for it right now

And Steve is sympathetic, he is, and ok hey this might actually be helpful? and we’ll ok fuck it he’s gonna shoot his shot

He blows out a big audible thoughtful sigh

“Sucks, but you know how it is man, sizes change between different brands and retailers and whatever. You know…really if you’re gonna be ordering stuff flown in like this, numbered sizes probably aren’t gonna be accurate enough for some of the stuff Argyle’ll be picking you up.”

Steve fixes his eyes downwards, purposefully looking at the magazine laying on the bed in front of him, and casually turns a page.

“I mean if you want things ..to fit just right..It’d probably be a better idea if we just gave him your measurements.”

“Hmm?”

And Eddie cocks an eyebrow at himself in the mirror and finally turns to look at Steve for what feels like the first time since they got home. He doesn’t miss that deliberate “we” for a second, but how had he missed what’s been right next to him all night? Coz ok..wow. His boy is looking sweaty, boy is HOT & BOTHERED all alone on that bed. And Steve at that moment looks up, making eye contact with him now, and he’s wearing such a sweet & unassuming but still subtly suggestive smile

and ok Eddie likes this game

So Eddie mimes thinking it over, being coy, rubbing his belly in thought like other ppl might stroke their chin

“Oh! My measurements you think?”

“Yeah it’s probably safest, so you won’t end up with any duds, make sure this doesn’t happen again”

“Smart. You’re so smart Stevie”

“And-and that way If we notice any measurements….change, before you see him again, it’s a just a phone call, we just call and update him”

“If any measurements change you say? hmmmm”

Oh this is fun. Eddie makes sure to stay demure & thoughtful-faced, playing up how he’s considering his boyfriends smart! and helpful! solution, and he turns his gaze down to look at his massive belly, stroking and grabbing at different parts of it with both hands, making sure to create pleeenty of up and down movement for Steve’s benefit

“I guess you’re right. It’s not a bad idea. Especially with how big this thing is getting.”

He lifts his belly and drops it, not missing Steve’s sharp inhale

“Yeah Yknow baby, it can just be sooo hard to tell once you’re as big as I am! I already feel so huge, like alll over, I don’t even notice it anymore when I get even bigger! It just kinda happens when you eat like I do”

And damn if steve isn’t salivating.

But Eddie puts his finger to pudgy chin in thought at this point

“But wait a minute! To keep track of changes? What it sounds like to me, is your suggesting I be measured on a fairly regular basis?”

And Ohoho yep Steve definitely rutting against his own jeans m, subtle movement sliding him up and down the bed

“It’s a thought.”

And Eddie goes all out on the theatrics for the end play, looks backs to the mirror, twisting and turning this way and that, watching Steve watch his love handles and belly repeatedly bunch up against each other

“But I dunno, I mean Stevie…I really am such a fatty now. Think it might even be tough for me to hold a tape measure round this whole thing myself! I don’t know what to do!”

Steve’s beat red and just blurts out

“I mean! I sh-w-would-i’ll can-me I can do that…for you”

Eddie clasps his hands over his heart, turns around and bats his big eyes at his boyfriend

“Ohhhh you would do that *for me*?”

And the theatrical faux gratefulness Eddie puts on is the final straw coz Steve just breaks into the biggest shit eating grin, and starts giggling and Eddie’s laughing too now, hands on hips

“Steven Harrington, you kinky shit!”

And thus the story of how relaxing, letting go of jealousy and opening himself up to new friendships lead Steve to realise that he may have a bit of a numbers kink

The knowing, stalking, keen and predatory way Eddie gets when he learns a partner's kinks is just ugh so delicious. Eddie gets off on getting Steve off, so he's super duper going to indulge this and play it up. Finding out Steve had a chubby kink for the first time was already a huge win cause it meant he could eat whatever he wanted, as much as he wanted, even more because turns out getting bigger just gets Harrington harder.

This though, this is a little more intellectual, so he has to think of fun ways to tease Steve with it. Like Steve takes all his measurements right? So Steve gets a thigh measurement and Eddie's like

"Hey, what's your waist measurement again, Stevie? Huh, wow would you look at that, looks like my thigh's almost the size of your waist. Isn't that interesting Stevie?"

Eddie wanting to compare their measurements to see how many Steves he is haha

[sarcasticfina]

Fic Writer Tag Game

How many works do you have on AO3? 263

What’s your total AO3 word count? 4,901,188

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? including the fandoms on FFnet, that haven't yet been moved over to ao3, that'd be a total of 37. separating the larger fandoms (marvel, dcu) into their individual parts: Thor; Arrow; Smallville; The Vampire Diaries; Glee; Captain America; Supernatural; Teen Wolf; Iron Man; Life with Derek; Firefly; Friday Night Lights; X-Men; Fantastic Four; Harry Potter; Sons of Anarchy; Girl Meets World; Batman; Daredevil; From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series; Transformers; Lost Girl; Game of Thrones; Banshee; High School Musical; The OC; One Tree Hill; CSI: New York; Degrassi; Gossip Girl; NCIS; The Unusuals; Criminal Minds; iCarly; Secret Life of the American Teenager; Twilight; and The Listener

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. and I wonder (if everything could ever feel this real forever) - darcy/bucky - Steve tells him that Darcy's harmless. Bucky imagines, on paper, Darcy is harmless. HYDRA wouldn't give her a second glance. But he does. He can barely keep his eyes off her. He's not sure he wants to. | Kudos: 5576

2. I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me) - darcy centric | darcy/steve - The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend. | Kudos: 3973

3. Take a little piece of my heart (and keep it for yourself) - oliver/felicity - A collection of Olicity prompts on Tumblr posted here for easier access/reading. | Kudos: 3498

4. You put your arms around me (and I'm home) - darcy/bucky - A collection of Darcy/Bucky oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fills. | Kudos: 3293

5. you (anchor me back down) - darcy/bucky - "I'll be right back." Famous last words. | Kudos: 2747

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? not all of them. i do try to keep up on them, especially on longer stories when there's been significant wait times in between chapters, or when a reader is asking a question or is unclear on something. and especially when someone writes a really indepth comment/review, i like to respond to those and talk about motivations and character growth.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I've written a number of fics that either had suicide or major character death, so i'm not sure if one outranks the other in terms of most angsty... hmm... i remember "be still and know that I'm with you (be still and know that I am here)" and "light a match, burn the world to ash (I will watch it die, and hold your hand as I fly)" both got some pretty intense reactions when they were posted. And "It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Go On)" was basically just angst from beginning to end. buuuuut, i think i'll say "so you think you can tell (heaven from hell" was, only because there's a build up of everything going so right, only to pivot at the end, so it feels very bittersweet.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i loooooove crossovers. i find writing in the marvel fandom makes things quite easy, but also smallville. as long as i can find a common thread, i enjoy finding a way to overlap two shows. i'll say the hardest one to write was "ruby red slippers (unavailable in her size)." I'm not sure why, but i found writing each personality together just felt strange. i liked the idea behind the story, but i definitely remember feeling like i was really forcing myself to keep going, like something just didn't fit right.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? oh, definitely. you cannot please everyone, it's impossible. for the most part, hate comes and i either argue back, take the criticism for what it's worth, or just ignore it when it's baseless. i think the hate that bothered me the most was a homophobic PM someone sent me re: "you know I will adore you ('til eternity)," on FFnet. i actually went and searched it up. they've since blocked me so i can't read our whole thread back and forth. but i did put part of it on tumblr so i could rant on it a bit, so you can see that here.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? ha. yes. depending on the story, it can be really detailed or really flowery. it depends on the ship, the plot, and how graphic i feel like being. i've definitely become more comfortable over the years with my writing. that said, i think everybody likes something different. i once had a reviewer tell me a sex scene was too much, just too intense. it was a stefan/caroline story and to be fair, that entire oneshot was just them fucking, lol, but it is what it is. to each their own.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Multiple times.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! for the record, i am always happy to have my stories translated and shared. i just like having a link sent to me and to be credited.

What’s your all time favorite ship? i have a list of OTPs, because interests change and as shows come and go, my love for a ship can be shelved for a while before it pops back up at random. currently, i can't get enough of buck/eddie from 9-1-1. and, historically, chloe/oliver (smallville) and felicity/oliver (arrow) have been two of my top OTPs. but i think i'd have to go with bonnie/damon. they had all the potential and the show dropped the ball by not exploring it. at the same time, that's kind of a blessing, because i don't trust those writers to properly explore what they had without eventually destroying it for the likes of de/ena. it means a treasure trove for writing where it could have gone and all the what if's.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? the intention is always to finish. but given how i feel about allison mack and how that impacts my feelings re: chloe sullivan, pretty much anything with her as a main character is not something i see myself returning to.

What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses? i'm putting these together because my strength is my weakness. i love to write. when i get an idea, i go all in and i will skip eating and sleeping to just write write write. but i also eventually hit a wall and i get so many ideas that i hyperfocus on one until the steam is gone and then i hyperfocus on the next one to maintain that need to keep writing, accidentally leaving the last story in the dust for entirely too long. i also have clinical depression that comes and goes, which hasn't been super great mixed with covid and isolation, so more often recently, i find myself overly exhausted and despite wanting to write, can rarely get motivated to do so. so, pre-covid, wrote so much i left entirely too many stories dangling. during covid, i've just been reading and struggling to get myself focused enough to do what i love.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i appreciate the authenticity when possible, but i've recently been reading more about how native speakers of other languages feel when a) their language is butchered by google translate, or b) it's just not genuine in terms of how bilingual speakers act or speak.

What was the first fandom you’ve written for? it was smallville, but i remember adopting it out to someone else because i wasn't going to finish it. so if you look at my ffnet, the first fandom i wrote for appears to be x-men: the movie, but i remember writing a chloe/oliver story prior to that.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? i have a lot. i mean, on ffnet, i have 576 stories, many of which were transferred over to ao3, with a lot of oneshots and drabbles getting joined together into collections. so there's a ton to pick from that span a 14-ish year timeline.

"you know I will adore you ('til eternity)" and "let me break (the walls that surround me)" hold a special place in my heart.

honestly, each story is important in its own way. there are bits and pieces of each that i love. every time i write something new it feels like my favorite. my best. and then a new idea comes along. there are scenes i've written that i loved more than the whole of what they became. lines that stand out that are almost too good to be a part of the larger picture.

one of my all time favorite passages i've written was bonnie's thoughts on damon and herself in 'if you love me (let me go)":

He is far from perfect. He is a novel of red, corrective ink. He is frayed pages and torn binding. His life, his choices, his mistakes leave lasting effects on everyone he meets.

She is a lifeboat with a hole in it. An anchor that drowns in the sea while everyone else remains steady above. She is both the calm and the storm, and while she screams that she will not be tamed, she cries. Bittersweet tears that go unnoticed and uncared about.

there are other stories, other pieces of dialogue, that i've been proud of. that make me laugh when i re-read them. that make me cry. and i love them. there are others that make me wilt and cringe and regret. it's a process. love and pride and growth, all bound together.

Tagging: @absentlyabbie, @anonymous033, and anyone else who'd like to fill this all out, haha

[tripleaxeldiaz]

you play, and everything else goes away

for @extasiswings <3

read on ao3

It’s all very familiar as he enters the store — the smell of wood and rosin, the instruments hanging on the walls, the snippets of music coming from the practice rooms along the back wall. There’s music playing from speakers behind the front desk too, a familiar piece that he’s forgotten the composer of. As he adjusts the case straps on his shoulders, watching a group of kids warm up in the corner, he’s suddenly nervous, anticipation rolling in his stomach like it did before his very first lesson.

Eddie didn’t start with the cello — every kid in the neighborhood was taking piano lessons, so his mother signed him and his sisters up too. Sophia was good, played through sophomore year, did a few solo and ensemble competitions. Adriana quit after a month so she could focus on dance. Eddie liked it fine, but he didn’t feel any passion for it. The keys felt too cold, too impersonal, and he couldn’t feel the music anywhere but in his hands, didn’t feel like he could control it.

His teacher must have noticed too, because she turned to him one day mid-lesson and asked, “Eddie, what do you really want to play?”

He’d thought about it, of course. He’d watched kids warm up and tune every instrument imaginable while waiting for lessons to start, but he always felt himself drawn to the strings. They were beautiful, looked elegant and commanding no matter who was playing them, and although they only had four strings, there were infinite notes that could be played, microtonalities and variations that the 88 keys of the piano just couldn’t replicate. Every violinist he watched seemed to put their whole body into their pieces, swaying as the music changed, bows ebbing and flowing. He told his teacher the simplified version of that and she nodded, leaving the room and coming back a few minutes later with two cases, one double the size of the other.

She handed him the violin first. Twisting his arm to hold it under his chin was awkward, and the shrill tone of the E string wasn’t something he was sure he wanted to listen to day in and day out. His teacher showed him some basic fingerings and helped him play a scale, but something still felt wrong.

The cello, though. As soon as he sat down with it securely between his knees, he knew this was different. Better. The tones were lower, warmer, and he could feel them in every inch of him, felt in command of the music he was playing. All he played was a D major scale, but it was enough to know this was it for him. His parents agreed, happy enough that he still wanted to play something, and bought him his own cello that same day. He was a little worried on the day of his first lesson that he wouldn’t love it as much as he hoped, but one hour and one sawed out version of “Hot Cross Buns” later, he was completely enamored.

He continued with lessons, joining his school’s orchestra in fifth grade, and Eddie continued falling in love with the cello, now learning how to love how it sounded as part of a whole rather than just a single instrument. Cello parts weren’t always the melody or particularly fun, but they supported the sound of the whole piece, enriching it, sometimes making it so intense he could feel the notes in his bones as he played. He was first chair by sophomore year, playing solos and in the chamber orchestra. He listened to the pieces his director recommended outside of school, and fell down rabbit holes of his own, finding particular comfort in the repetition and minimalism of Glass and Richter, in the picturesque melodies of Einaudi. By the time he was a senior, it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to play much if at all after graduation — his parents were pushing so hard for pre-med, the Army kept sending him letters about his potential as a recruit, and all the best music programs were out of state anyway, away from Shannon, from his family, everything he knew.

He packed up his cello after his orchestra’s senior concert, fully expecting to never touch it again, watch it gather dust in the corner of his childhood bedroom while the world moved on around it. It hurt Eddie deeply to leave this thing he loved so much behind, but he still had recordings to listen to, where he could close his eyes and pretend he was playing too, fingering along silently on his arm.

It wasn’t the same, but it would have to be enough.

But fast forward 15 years and here Eddie is, waiting for his new teacher to call him into their room, foot tapping with nervous energy. He sees a door open, a girl walking out with her case on her back, waving as she heads out of the store. A man maybe 10 years older than him sticks his head out.

“Edmundo?” he calls. Eddie walks over to the room, shutting the door behind him as they shake hands.

“Eddie is fine,” he says.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Steve,” Steve says, his smile warm and paternal. “I take it this isn’t your first rodeo?”

Eddie stops, bow in his hand frozen mid-rosin. He hadn’t even realized he had unpacked, it just...happened. Like muscle memory.

“It’s not,” he laughs, blushing lightly. “But it has been a while.”

“Well that’s okay, it’s never too late to start playing again,” Steve says as Eddie settles in the plastic chair, locking his endpin and placing it in the rock stop. “Do you have any music with you? I’d like to get an idea of where your technique is at right now.”

“I don’t, but I have a piece memorized I can play?”

Steve waves his hand out as he sits in the chair across from Eddie. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Eddie places the bow on the strings and takes a deep breath. It’s been ages, but it’s all so familiar that he’s not nervous anymore. The weight of the cello is comforting, like hugging an old friend, and he’s relaxed. Excited, even, to be back in this mindset that was an escape to him for so long. As he begins to play, the familiar arpeggios flow out of him like rain water, the bow gliding along with them. He closes his eyes and feels it, the slurs and scales, the crescendos and diminuendos, every rest, every string crossing. This was the first piece he ever memorized, the first one he ever played in front of people at a recital, and to know that it’s still so much a part of him, ingrained in his mind, makes him kind of want to cry.

He finishes, let’s the last chord linger, his eyes still closed. He knows it wasn’t perfect — he was flat in places, he missed a bowing change and was backwards for a few bars, and his fingertips started hurting toward the end, calluses no longer there to protect him. But none of that matters to him, really, because he’s back, back in this home he didn’t realize he had missed so much.

He opens his eyes as Steve claps softly, still smiling. “That was really great, Eddie. You have some things to brush up on, but you really are a natural. Shall we work through it from the top?”

He picks up his bow, heart close to bursting with happiness, and he starts again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie peaks through the crack in the curtain, scanning the audience for his family. He spots them — they’re kind of hard to miss, taking up the entire third row — and he feels his stomach drop, more nervous than he ever is running into a burning building.

It was their doing, really, his getting back into playing. Sophia had been in town and had dropped by the station one day, and everyone took full advantage of grilling her for childhood memories of Eddie. He hadn’t minded when she let slip that he played cello once upon a time, because he wasn’t ashamed of it. It just wasn’t something he talked about often because it still stung, even all these years later, remembering the feeling he used to get mastering a tricky fingering or learning a new piece, knowing he’d probably never have that same joy again. He didn’t really think anything of the way Buck’s eyes lit up when he said he wouldn’t mind taking lessons again, or the way he pulled everyone but Eddie aside in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

At their yearly gift exchange, Eddie had been presented with a huge, oddly wrapped package with a tag reading “To: our favorite musician, From: all of us”. His breath caught as he unwrapped it, revealing familiar, curved black plastic. He opened the case, tearing up at the sight of the used but clearly loved cello and a coupon for a year’s worth of lessons from a local teacher. He croaked out a “thank you” and was quickly enveloped in a group hug, feeling beyond grateful for these people that knew him so well and loved him so much.

He practiced as often as he could in between lessons and work and everything else. Sometimes he was alone, working through difficult passages with varying degrees of frustration. Sometimes Chris laid on the ground next to him doing homework, sometimes Buck sat on the couch and read, both listening intently, not caring when Eddie played the same four bars over and over and over to get them right. As annoying as it was, he never felt like giving up, like picking cello up again had been a mistake. If anything, it just made him work harder, in honor of 18 year old Eddie that had to leave his passion behind.

The audience claps as the pianist before him finishes. Eddie feels a hand on his shoulder, turns to see Steve behind him, holding his folder of music.

“You’ve worked hard this year, Eddie. You’re going to be great. And if not, that just means you have to keep practicing.”

Eddie nods, stomach still swirling. He and Steve walk on stage as his name is announced, and he hears Buck and Chimney’s unmistakable hollers. He sets up his chair and music stand in front of the piano, looking at the audience again. He can see everyone’s face clearly from here, all smiles, Bobby holding up his phone to record the performance. He catches Buck’s eye, who sends him a wink and a smile, and he’s ready.

He places his bow on the strings, nods to Steve, and he’s lost in the music almost immediately. It’s a melancholic piece, full of sorrow and intensity that fills Eddie as he plays. He picked this piece because it’s beautiful in it’s sadness and simplicity, and today, he plays it for all that he’s lost. For his Army friends, for Shannon, for his younger, more optimistic self. He mourns for them through his music in a way that he’s never been able to without it, and as it swells into the final melodic section, he swears he feels some weight lift off his soul.

He finishes, and there’s a breath before the audience applauds. It’s mostly polite, but the third row is on its feet, Athena passing Maddie a pack of tissues as they wipe their eyes. He smiles and bows before heading offstage with Steve, feeling giddy, the same we he always remembered feeling after a good performance. It didn’t matter that he missed a few notes or rushed a few bars — he made people feel something, and that was a better reward than perfection.

Another round of applause from his family greets him as he enters the lobby, Chris barreling into his legs, all smiles and congratulations. There’s hugs and pats on the back and flowers from Hen and Karen, and Eddie doesn’t know if he’ll stop smiling. As they leave, headed to a nearby restaurant to celebrate, Buck falls in step next to Eddie, tangles their fingers together.

“You were beautiful up there, Eds,” he says as he presses a kiss to the back of Eddie’s hand. “I’ve never seen you look so in your element.”

Eddie just smiles, kissing Buck’s cheek before tugging him toward the car, Chris already there, yelling at them to get a move on.

Because Buck’s right. On stage, playing music, he is in his element. Behind a cello, he’s home.

[tisthenightofthewitch]

TOBIAS FORGE: HOW IRON MAIDEN INFLUENCED GHOST

2018 has been a banner year for Ghost, and it all ends with an extremely ambitious tour, featuring arena shows in the U.S. With the Swedish cult act on the cusp of becoming one of heavy metal's great immortals, we got on the phone with Ghost mastermind Tobias Forge to talk all about his upcoming plans, Carpenter Brut's new version of "Dance Macabre," what Forge learned from touring arenas with Iron Maiden and more.

So the Carpenter Brut cover, did they write this before and send it to you, or was this a collaboration? How did this whole thing get your attention?

I knew Franck and the band from before. I think our whole relationship started a few years ago. I’m a big fan of Deathspell Omega, and because he had produced or recorded them, he emailed me introducing himself, saying, “Hey, I’m the producer of Deathspell Omega and I just wanted to let you know that I have a band called Carpenter Brut and we would love to, at some point down the line, do some sort of collaboration.” I said, “Okay, great.”

I’ve been terribly busy, and basically, as much as my intentions are pure, very often when it comes to collaborations or doing things or even socially sometimes, my intention is always like, “Yeah, of course.” But between being on tour… if you come out on tour and hang, I’m there, but usually when I’m off tour, I’m pretty much domesticated, I have a family. We kept postponing, and we sort of kept in touch.

So [Carpenter Brut] came out on tour. Me and Franck -- it was basically the first time we’d ever hung out together, and that I think furthered the bond and the idea of, “Well, at some point we should do something.” I’m a big fan of ’80s music, for lack of a better word. I’m a big fan of dance music, but especially dance music when it comes in the form of ’80s horroresque dance music, and I know just the guy who does music just like that.

Carpenter Brut even used different vocal melodies at times, as opposed to your original version of "Dance Macabre." Did Carpenter Brut remix your vocal lines, or did they use parts that didn’t actually make the Ghost version of the song?

No, they were not given any alternate takes. I always layer my vocals a lot. I sing a minimum of three layers of the same line every time and then it’s always one or two or sometimes even more harmonies. If you just mute the music, and you have all the harmonies in there, the harmonies, obviously, will dictate the chords underneath. So in order for him to alternate and change with the chords, if he wants to change that, sometimes he needs to adjust the tone or a note here or there, and you might wanna skip those harmonies and sort of change them a little to follow the orchestration of the new chord sequence. I’m assuming that is what he did, because it sounds correct, for lack of a better word.

So back in 2015, I spoke to a Nameless Ghoul for Loudwire, and he talked about the “growing pains” of Ghost’s live show as it becomes more and more elaborate. Now that Ghost will be playing arenas, how have those “growing pains” continued?

There are several and they’re quite intense. I was told before that one of the hardest jumps to do, painlessly, is the one from playing clubs into playing arenas. I am completely aware of that now. The production that you jam into a theater, regardless of if there’s 900 people in the crowd or 3,500, is basically a production that’s supposed to be seen through a proscenium sort of hole, and that means there are certain aspects and angles of the production that you won’t see as a spectator.

When you go into an arena like the Forum, all of a sudden you have a completely different angle. There’s a completely different degree from which people are seeing your production, so you have to make that as close as possible to the other bands that they have seen in an arena. Years ago we played the second biggest ice hockey arena here in Stockholm. It’s not the biggest one, but it’s basically our Madison Square Garden. That’s the place where every band ever has played. All the bands in the ’60s… the Beatles played there, the Stones played there, Iron Maiden played there like five or six times in the ’80s. It’s the place where most people, if you’re older than 30, you have seen concerts there. Obviously, the Forum, same thing. Every [big] band on the planet has played there.

You have to go in there knowing that last time a lot of those people were here, they might’ve seen Guns ’N Roses, or they might’ve seen Muse, or they might’ve seen U2. That is the hardest thing; to find that thing that works for one night, because the day after and the day before, you might do a smaller venue. Even though it’s a theater stage and 3,000 people, that’s big enough, but you cannot just take that production and just put it onto the Forum stage, as you won’t look cool.

I think that the hardest thing to get to terms with emotionally is the fact that you don’t really have the time to get good at doing those arena shows, because the production will be something that you see maybe one time before we do the show. If you’re headlining at Hellfest or Wacken or Graspop or something, and all of a sudden you’re playing in front of so many more people, and you have to step up everything five or six or 10 times. You’re used to having maybe eight cans of fire, but on this show you need to have 28, because there has to be fire everywhere, because people standing 200 feet away, they need to see it.

I love playing arenas; it’s the best thing. As much as I like the intimacy of theaters, that is my favorite size of show, because if you’re playing arenas, especially if you do a whole consecutive tour playing arenas, there are no legal limitations. There’s some limitations, but it’s not the same thing as when you come into an old, wooden theater that was built in 1902 that you cannot use fire in, you cannot use confetti in it, you cannot blow shit up, and oh, by the way, you cannot move the curtain, or whatever. There’s tons of things like that.

When you do arenas consecutively, that’s when people really get value for their money. That’s when you can be consistent. That’s another thing that I am very much hoping to become, consistent, in the sense that when you go see Ghost, you can count on us having fire, count on us having the pyro. You can count on us doing that gag and that gag and that gag.

Did Ghost learn any important lessons from touring arenas with Iron Maiden?

One of my earliest sources of inspiration when it comes to wanting to become a touring musician playing arenas was carefully and hysterically studying the booklet of Live After Death. That was my measuring tool in terms of, “That is what a tour looks like.” That is how many shows you do. Which might give you an idea of why we toured so much, because that is what I learned. That is one of the reasons why I even wanted to become a musician and be on tour, because I read about it. I used to sit with an atlas, a map book, and I used to follow the tour and watch where they were going, and oh, they had a day off in Saginaw. Back then I didn’t have any internet or anything, so I didn’t know what Saginaw was. I had no point of reference, but I knew that Iron Maiden probably had a day off there in 1985.

Fast forward to 2010, ’11, ’12, something, we started touring with them. We’re behind the famous stage set they have. And “Wow, there’s that Eddie doll,” and “There’s that backdrop.” Then I got to know the guys, the band. Steve [Harris]and a lot of their crew are good friends of mine, and we even have people in our crew that either have been with them or are doing both. There’s a lot of cross-pollination between Iron Maiden and Ghost nowadays. They have been extremely important for my whole reason wanting to be here and the reason why I’ve gotten to the place where I am now.

Loudwire

[alchemisland]

LAX

A little something I wrote this morning. I wanted to fuck around with stream of consciousness from a first-person POV in a future dialect, a bastard hybrid-tongue, with elements of the building blocks present in German. Just some messing really. Enjoy.

There’s a formula to getting on. At my best I’m seen to like things, heard to know things and available should anything arise. Like things ironically, they can’t be used against you then. Such is our way.  I have to go fast. I’m like the bankside chicken, crocs in the river, quicker than they look, out and about on the tides and on the silk, always run, always sideeyes on the look, I have to be, everyone who was ever anyone in the corpo kept sideeyes and notrust always. Some secrets are for sharing in bed maybe, just for the two of you, a little private project to protect, prescient pearls, but some of them are just for one, for me, I want to be in the corpo. I have some big ideas. See, that’s the thing. You can’t care, what are you some weird with mosttime - too much time - are you going very slow, fast is the way buddy, gotta go fast zip along that highway like a lit cracker like a bit knacker, go go go. But sametime you have to care, want to change, why else do the corpo exists if nobody is trying to change any things? I inwardly longchange, but outwardly contentmodel. When you get to the corpo you have your own office and its all private and you can work on what you secretly care about I guess a bit and nobody knows and they won’t hate you and fight out what an uglyinside you are beneath the skin.

Was it always like this? Yes. 

Let’s meet for a walk. Stuff myself on the tram. Sardines against the licked glass, fogging, I can’t see what stop we’re at. Nobody stands clear of the door. Too afraid they’ll get stuck at the back and miss their stop, even though that’s never happened in the history of trams. 

All bets are off. Even the nice are made brutes. Commute is the gauntlet through which we pass. A grinder for the weak, sieving out the chaff from the mid-morning warrior, wielding his laminated pass, standing in his designated spot where he knows the host is lightest, where the same portly gentleman alights each day, leaving in his wake a pocket wide enough for three normal sized people - what’s normal - skinny, skinny jeans palefaced phonejunkie - fat, fat and delighted, newfoundly powerful, exerting agency where before went powerless, bless your little porcine eyes 

Me included, can’t be nice. Lose your place. Am I a loser? Fuck no. Remember, it’s about perception. I can be seen to lose, sure. Everyone loses. Napoleon. Achilles. Wild Bill. I can’t be seen to be OK with losing generally, or to not always be striving to win. Elbow on, even if you know rightly there’s no room, and that another empty tram is up its arse; why wait, I’ve waited three minutes already; elbow on and make room, fog the glass, feel its cold kiss agin your cheek. 

At my stop, all manners, ask nicely while pushing, ask for money with the notes already in your pocket, sorry can I move you there love, asked more with an elbow and a shrug of the shoulder rugbylike than a real silver’d tongue. 

Step off, breathe deep, alighted at last. These laminated scanner cards, for important guys who need to travel to the office every single day, where else, you don’t even need to tag off. Just on. The company, see, they want to know where you’re going. Without statistics and percentages, averages and ratios, how can they improve their service? 

Capacity. That’s the political buzzword. Feeling hot under the collar when the camera flashes form a corona, ask your opponent about their plans to relieve capacity. 

Well, minister, a taskforce has been implemented, whose sole duty is commuter flow and congestive relief, LAX squad, black flak gunjack jacks belt bombs bullets and me and my laminated ticket they wouldn't dare. 

Ticketless scoundrels would be first. Dragged down laneways and kneecapped by the LAXers in their black flak jackets. Fat cunts next. I once watched a woman eat chips from her handbag out my bedroom window. Lifting greasy sausagefingers to and from the clashing rocks of her teeth, those golden potato lumps a less fortunate crew of argonauts than those Jason took from Thessaly. She was shiny with vinegar. 

There’d be a helpline too, for helpful people who like to help out, help the authorities help society help these people help themselves. Hello is this the helpline, I’d say. Yes it is, Mr Helpful they would say. Thank you for remembering, machine, I would say. I’m a woman, said the machine - tricky like. I’d like to report a fat disgusting on the lower road, by the Smiles Institution for the Mentally Wretched. 

Most of the mentals were gone. The government couldn’t afford to keep every wing open. The least wretched were transferred to the regular system, scumbag system, but even mangy bangers that bash grannies for their handbags don’t deserve to be with the Mentally Wretched, those too reptilian to be among us. You remind us too much of something we’d rather not remember, thanks. We shoo them away. Prison is not enough. Special institutions, powerful bespoke disarming elixirs, stronger elastics and fastenings. Rarely ingenuous cures. Lock them up. 

Houses. They’re going to build houses for the people to live in. Rich people, buy out the scum. Stove the roof of my crannog so the rain comes through, then brick by brick build your castle around and above it, until one day the light stops streaming in that hole you made, and the last wet concrete sets on my soul. 

C’mon you pricks. We need houses like a rat needs fleas. Here’s a solution. Form the lax squad for real. Not just for the trams; clean the streets. Fats, uggs, unpops, olds, differents, cunts. 

Who is gonna sign up for that job? Who can be trusted to always make the right decisions? This is the genius part. If I wasn’t a writer slash commuter slash junkie slash tryhard slash huge faker slash dreamer slash cynic what else, I would be a really smart guy in the smart business realm. I have some big ideas. Pour cement over the lower classes, cultural layer. 

How? 

Blimps. 

How does that solve the LAX dilemma? 

People a. Don’t probably want to hurt strangers and b. Don’t want to be associated with stool-softening-rapiding agents. 

Why not. 

Have you never really needed a huge shit? I did once, up the way with Steve and like billy-o I went for the briar and scuttered and likely muttered in the winter, steam coming off the pile, stench worse than dog, cans of cider, Druids cider, did a jig and killed inside me(r). 

Anyway, I know who’s going to join the LAX squad. This is the genius bit now. The mentals. Get the mentals out of the big house - I’ll detail my plans for that shortly - and get them back into society. Doing good is good for you. So, here we go. 

Mentals are out, black flak jackets and chainsaws. People won’t stand for it. Why would anyone take a train where the staff occasionally kill you? Giveaways. There’s really good giveaways and extremely reasonable rates. Timing too. We keep a random element, but within strict confines. If you really, really, really aren’t up for stuffing it, we’ll say ‘Don’t get the tram this Saturday between 5-8, when emergency depopulation maintenance will be underway’. 

If you can kill one of our LAX agents without a weapon, using only your bare hands, you will win 10K cash, free travel for life and immunity for your family, denoted by a yellow laminate card worn on a golden lanyard, sprayed sprayed sprayed c’mon people let’s be reasonable, I’m trying to make savings here. 

Bread and circus meets Mad Max meets Eddie Hobbes, who surname is a fictional tiger and whose occupation was declawing a metaphorical tiger. What will you do with the land freed up from the Mentally Wretched? 

Gorgeous houses. Modest, extremely affordable, allotments for vegetables, flowers and berries, green areas, nice paving and gravel drives, adequate parking. How will you afford this? LAX saves the day. If you’re killed by the LAX officers, they get everything - the corp. Corp work for me. I build the houses. Move all the lowers in. The bad ones. 

They hear hissing. I say just heating, pipes, old Victorian brass jobs with whistles, dials, bells and sheen shine Die Glocke. Are you sure, they say. Petition. 

Please check this hiss, we do most definitely certainly hear something a-hiss. 

Goose I said. I have a farm of geese for you lowers this Christ day. 

No they say, we have seen and heard no goose. 

Did you look, I know they haven’t and it’s a trick for time. They know it’s a trick and won’t let me escape, even after I discharge the smoke bombs I had in my pocket, which were actually stinkers and we talked in the smelly, green cloud about the hissing sound and I secretly dialed for the boys. Come get me, boys. Some of these lowers is closing in. They smell bad and can’t read, which makes them basically skunks with Nike shoes, and they like things where people do things. 

Watch the show about the hissing maybe, that would be a good idea for to make more money, make them pay a fee to watch their neighbors in the house trying to find the source of the hissing. 

What is this hissing, daughter, ist thou vibrator on? This is how lowers speak, underpeople. Not me, smart, right smart, commuter man and going to be part of the corp with some of my ideas. Perhaps fidder, says the underdaughter, is idst thou vibrator? All laugh, others laugh other house, nobody finds the hiss and I escape. 

I keep them busy arguing about all the things until the boys come. Hi boys, get them please. The unders would be forced back into their house, lower house but nice ones that I built and now the hissing is so bad you can hear it inside and out and that’s a really crazy feeling and sound, even I can hear it but I let them know?? You crazy, Joe. this is a corp game and I’m the man in the know who runs the slow got the special glow and today’s another day at the corpo. 

One of the boys, I think his name was Dermot. He’s a middler and can’t ride the trains and I see his laminate is brown which is the same colour as shit and it makes me not like him and then I realized maybe why nobody was rushing to join the LAX squad, I wouldn’t want to be associated with any of the ass processes. Maybe I’ll have the name changed; I have those powers, I’m in the corpo. 

He asks me what the hiss is. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about I said and we get in the car and then I don’t have to lie because the unders can’t hear, with the hissing. 

He has music on, quite uncorpo stuff but good. Pale Rapist is their name. They played Frunk, the latest hellvariant from genresmith and axemaster Obscene Pete. Turn this up I said to Dermot who is in the front now driving, so the lowers can’t hear.

I says this hissing you hear he says yes I do sir. Snakes. No way, yes way snakes, where, in the walls in the foundations in the long grasses and beneath the pools, in the pipes and rafters and hollows and sinks, coiled in shoes and cupboards and shelves, I have a snake button at the office. Once I push it, all the Lowers are gone and it’s time to make some money. 

Put all the snakes back, move more unders in, release the snakes. It goes on forever and it makes loads of money and sense. He’s wowed, under me, I’m from the corpo and Pale Rapist is blaring, blaring. Back to the office please and inputs the coordinates. Runes grow blue on the panel. A rift appears and the unders can hear the fabric of space tearing like wet paper even with the hissing that they think is pipes because I tricked them and they believed me, I have nice eyes and I ride the train and my lanyard glints while theirs has a little bit of string like a desiccated length of ancient sausage. 

Through the rift right to HQ, big H, the corpo HQ and my office is enormous, large enough for a rift and the whole car and the lot. I step out, clear of the rift or you’ll lose more than an inch trust me, if my dick wasn’t so big I’d be worried, I could stand to lose an inch or two and still feel swole. He drives back, closes it, leaves. 

Sit at the desk and the snake button is there where I asked for it, it’s pushed like an aging king from his battlements before you can say snakes coming out of every pore and eating all the lowers. 

Guess what, genius idea I had already and didn’t say. The lowers and unders and middlers living elsewhere paid their fee and guess what they’re watching on PPV? New hit show. Billion viewers. Undersnake. 

Which family will survive? I planted one shotgun in the under area. One underfamily will find it. If they survive it’s gonna be good news. Cash money enough to be a middler. They can watch the next season live, cousins maybe. Holy shit idea again, they can be judges, or helpers. One lifeline. You can call this vet fam and ask they sage advice in direst perils. Yeah, season two is gonna have a lot of new stuff. 

Show is over, good ratings. No rift home, take the train. What time is it? Oh the one thing I love about Saturday work. 

My own LAX are on the take today. 

Another forty minutes. I love a challenge, dare me and dare I and how dare they, let’s have a go they would never kill the boss for I was the one who invented the LAX and now the trams run basically on time.

[marcusssanderson]

Inspirational Sports Quotes About Becoming Legendary and Mindset

Looking for inspirational sports quotes for athletes by athletes about working towards your full potential?

Here is our latest collection of the best inspirational sports quotes!

All athletes need motivation and constant reminders to be at their best during both practice and gameplay. Why?

Because it’s so easy to relax, fall off and fall back. Even when you love what you do!

Most people cannot relate to the extreme work ethic it takes to be an athlete and as we all know, a few words can go a long way.

When we hear about some of the most successful athletes and sports stars, they were also master motivators. Motivating their team to go beyond all previous limits and push themselves into new territory and high levels of performance.

And more times than not, the team listens! Jordan! Kobe! Wayne! Ray Lewis! Just to name a few, are all master motivators.

We searched the web for the best inspirational sports quotes we could find to inspire athletes of all ages, to be the best they can be, on and off the court/field/gym.

Enjoy these wonderful motivational sports quotes for athletes!

Inspirational Sports Quotes For Athletes Who Want To Level Up

1.) “Only he who can see the invisible can do the impossible.”– Frank L. Gaines

2.) “The man who has no imagination has no wings.” – Muhammad Ali

3.) Today, you have 100% of your life left.- Tom Landry

4.) “A trophy carries dust. Memories last forever.”– Mary Lou Retton

5.) “Age is no barrier. It’s a limitation you put on your mind.”– Jackie Joyner-Kersee

6.) “The only way to prove that you’re a good sport is to lose.”– Ernie Banks

7.) “I always felt that my greatest asset was not my physical ability, it was my mental ability.”– Bruce Jenner

8.) “There may be people that have more talent than you, but there’s no excuse for anyone to work harder than you do.”– Derek Jeter

9.) “One man practicing sportsmanship is far better than 50 preaching it.”– Knute Rockne

Inspirational sports quotes for athletes looking for beast mode

10.) “Champions keep playing until they get it right.” – Billie Jean King

11.) “It is not the size of a man but the size of his heart that matters.” – Evander Holyfield

12.) “Always make a total effort, even when the odds are against you.” – Arnold Palmer

13.) “The more difficult the victory, the greater the happiness in winning.” – Pele

14.) “If it doesn’t challenge you, it won’t change you.” – Fred Devito

15.) “Victory is in having done your best. If you’ve done your best, you’ve won.” – Billy Bowerman

16.) “An athlete cannot run with money in his pockets. He must run with hope in his heart and dreams in his head.”– Emil Zatopek

17.) “You have to expect things of yourself before you can do them.”   – Michael Jordan 

18.) “There are only two options regarding commitment. You’re either IN or you’re OUT. There is no such thing as life in-between.”– Pat Riley

19.) “You were born to be a player. You were meant to be here. This moment is yours.” – Herb Brooks

Motivational sports quotes for athletes from legends

20.) “The key is not the will to win. Everybody has that. It is the will to prepare to win that is important.” – Bobby Knight

21.) “I don’t plan on being disappointed. We plan on being really good, and obviously, we plan on winning.” – Gregg Troy

22.) “A champion is afraid of losing. Everyone else is afraid of winning.” – Billie Jean King

23.) “If you are afraid of failure you don’t deserve to be successful!” – Charles Barkley

24.) “Today I will do what others won’t, so tomorrow I can accomplish what others can’t.” – Jerry Rice

 Inspirational Sports quotes from Hall of Famers

25.) “You might not be able to outthink, out market or outspend your competition, but you can outwork them.” – Lou Holtz 

26.) “You have to do something in your life that is honorable and not cowardly if you are to live in peace with yourself.” – Larry Brown

27.) “What do you do with a mistake: recognize it, admit it, learn from it, forget it.” – Dean Smith

28.) “I’ve failed over & over & over again in my life & that is why I succeed.” – Michael Jordan

29.) “You can’t get much done in life if you only work on the days when you feel good.” – Jerry West

30.) “I’ve got a theory that if you give 100% all of the time, somehow things will work out in the end.” –Larry Bird

31.) “It’s hard to beat a person who never gives up.”  “Heroes get remembered, but legends never die.” –Babe Ruth

32.) “Do not let what you can not do interfere with what you can do.”– John Wooden

Motivational sports quotes for athletes about perseverance

33.) “If you have everything under control, you’re not moving fast enough.”– Mario Andretti

34.) “You can’t put a limit on anything. The more you dream, the farther you get.”– Michael Phelps

35.) “Procrastination is one of the most common and deadliest of diseases and its toll on success and happiness is heavy.” – Wayne Gretzky

36.) Once you learn to quit, it becomes a habit. – Vince Lombardi

37.) “Talent is God given. Be humble. Fame is man-given. Be grateful. Conceit is self-given. Be careful.” – John Wooden

38.) “I hated every minute of training, but I said, ‘Don’t quit. Suffer now and live the rest of your life as a champion.’”– Muhammad Ali

39.) “What keeps me going is not winning, but the quest for reaching potential in myself as a coach and my kids as divers. It’s the pursuit of excellence.” – Ron O’Brien

40.) “Most people give up just when they’re about to achieve success. They quit on the one yard line. They give up at the last minute of the game one foot from a winning touchdown.”– Ross Perot

41.) “I think sports gave me the first place where this awkward girl could feel comfortable in my own skin. I think that’s true for a lot of women—sports gives you a part of your life where you can work at something and you look in the mirror and you like that person.”  – Teri McKeever 

42.) “Gold medals aren’t really made of gold. They’re made of sweat, determination, and a hard-to-find alloy called guts.”– Dan Gable

43.) “The highest compliment that you can pay me is to say that I work hard every day, that I never dog it.”– Wayne Gretzky

Inspirational sports quotes from winners

44.) “The hardest skill to acquire in this sport is the one where you compete all out, give it all you have, and you are still getting beat no matter what you do. When you have the killer instinct to fight through that, it is very special.” – Eddie Resse

45.) “Adversity causes some men to break; others to break records.”– William A. Ward

46.) “Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they’ve been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It’s an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It’s a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.” – Muhammad Ali

47.) “Some people say I have attitude – maybe I do…but I think you have to. You have to believe in yourself when no one else does – that makes you a winner right there. ”– Venus Williams

48.) “Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.”– Lance Armstrong

More inspirational sports quotes

49.) “A champion needs a motivation above and beyond winning.” – Pat Riley

50.) “Winning is not a sometime thing; it’s an all time thing. You don’t win once in a while, you don’t do things right once in a while, you do them right all the time. Winning is habit. Unfortunately, so is losing.” – Vince Lombardi

51.) “If you think it’s hard to meet new people, try picking up the wrong golf ball.” – Jack Lemmon

52.) “Finding good players is easy. Getting them to play as a team is another story.” – Casey Stengel

53.) “It’s not whether you get knocked down; it’s whether you get up.”— Vince Lombardi

54.) “When you’re riding, only the race in which you’re riding is important.”– Bill Shoemaker

55.) “Never say never because limits, like fears, are often just an illusion.” – Michael Jordan

56.) “In the end, the game comes down to one thing: man against man. May the best man win.”― Sam Huff

57.) “Do you know what my favorite part of the game is? The opportunity to play.”― Mike Singletary

58.) “One man practicing sportsmanship is far better than 50 preaching it.” – Knute Rockne

Inspirational sports quotes to give you motivation

59.) “Winning isn’t everything, but wanting to win is.” – Vince Lombardi

60.) “The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a man’s determination.” – Tommy Lasorda

61.) “The principle is competing against yourself. It’s about self-improvement, about being better than you were the day before.” – Steve Young

62.) “There are certain basic qualities and characteristics you’ve got to have. Number one: you’ve got to have a will to win.” – Bob Richards

63.) “A champion is someone who does not settle for that day’s practice, that day’s competition, that day’s performance. They are always striving to be better. They don’t live in the past.” – Briana Scurry

64.) “Show me a gracious loser and I’ll show you a failure.” – Knute Rockne

65.) “Winning isn’t everything, but it beats anything that comes in second.” – Paul Bryant

66.) “Just be patient. Let the game come to you. Don’t rush. Be quick, but don’t hurry.” – Earl Monroe

67.) “Nothing is black-and-white, except for

[douchebagbrainwaves]

STARTUPS AND COMPUTER

What they mean by blogger is not someone who publishes in a weblog format, but anyone who thinks east coast investors, not so much; but anyone who publishes online. Good writing should be convincing because you got the right answers, they wouldn't need us. And that could be bad for VCs. Is the mathematician a small man because he's discontented? Or at least, a thesis was a position one took and the dissertation was the argument by which one defended it. A physicist friend recently told me half his department was on Prozac. What makes the answer appear is letting your thoughts drift a bit—and thus drift off the wrong path you'd been pursuing last night and onto the right one adjacent to it.1 Follow the threads that attract your attention. Wise and smart are both ways of saying someone knows what to do by a boss.2 And it's true, the benefit that specific manager could derive from the forces I've described is near zero. Instead of matching beige cubicles they have an assortment of furniture they bought used.3 At YC, the culture was the product.

And a lot of their time on their own projects? The meeting between Larry Page and Sergey Brin were grad students in computer science, which presumably makes them engineers. Are you crazy? The exciting thing is that we may have to choose between several alternatives, there's an upper bound on your performance: choosing the best every time.4 Well, there are next to none among the most valuable features.5 See what you can extract from a frivolous question?6 That one succeeded.7

Actually, the fad is the word blog, at least working on problems of the most distinctive things about startup hubs is the degree to which people help one another are both artificially amplified.8 Meetings are like an opiate with a network effect. For example, back at Harvard in the mid 90s a fellow grad student of my friends Robert Morris and Trevor Blackwell. Ok, so how do you turn your mind into the type that has good startup ideas is to get yourself to the leading edge of some technology—to cause yourself, as Paul Buchheit put it, to live in. Ticketstumbler made it to profitability on Y Combinator's $15,000 investment and they hope not to need more.9 And newspapers and magazines are literally dying for a solution. Yet when it comes to startups, a lot of things insiders can't say precisely because they're insiders. But now you can read this, I should be working.

This essay is derived from a guest lecture in Sam Altman's startup class at Stanford. They switch because it's a better browser.10 So stop looking for the trick. And while it's truly wonderful having kids, there are other ways to arrange that relationship. What if it's too hard? One Canadian startup we funded spent about 6 months working on moving to the US. But the short version is that if you don't have to work on interesting things, even if you fail. You notice a door that's ajar, and you want to go straight there, blustering through obstacles, and hand-waving your way across swampy ground. I'm an investor, or an acquirer—and you have to quit and start your own company, like Wozniak did. Boston investors who saw them first but acted too slowly. But you don't need investors' money.11

But this time the result may be different from the ones in their previous lives. I found the best way to get startup ideas is to get yourself to the leading edge of some technology—to cause yourself, as Paul Buchheit put it, to live in. In fact there is no such thing. The other problem with pretend work is that it often looks better than real work. In this world, wisdom seemed paramount. In most places, if you start a startup. Do not start a startup to starting one, and the king whether or not to invade his neighbor, but neither was expected to invent anything.

For example, why should there be a connection between humor and misfortune?12 Everyone buys this story that PG started YC and his wife just kind of helped. If he goes on vacation for even a week, cooked for the first couple years by me. Because of Y Combinator's position at the extreme end of the process.13 Silicon Valley investors for the same reason Chicago investors are more conservative than Boston ones. That is one of the most powerful of those was the existence of channels.14 What I mean is, if you start a startup in college. We did the first thing we thought of. There were no fixed office hours. For example, newspaper editors assigned stories to reporters, then edited what they wrote.15

Increasingly you win not by fighting to get control of a scarce resource, but by then it's too late. And that could be bad for VCs. One of the advantages of moving. Sometimes you start with a promising question and get nowhere. From the outside that seems like what startups do.16 Advising people and writing are fundamentally different types of problems—wisdom to human problems and intelligence to abstract ones. When I'm writing or hacking I spend as much time just thinking as I do actually typing.17 So why were we afraid? The idea of mixing it up with linkbait journalists or Twitter trolls would seem to her not merely frightening, but disgusting.

Notes

Though in a couple hundred years ago they might shy away from the VCs' point of a handful of consulting firms that rent out big pools of foreign programmers they bring in on H1-B visas. There are people who interrupt you. Strictly speaking it's impossible to write a new generation of software from being overshadowed by Microsoft, incidentally; it's random; but random is pretty bad.

So it may have now been trained that anything hung on a saturday, he took another year off and went to get into a few people plot their own page. I mean forum in the sense that they decided to skip raising an A round, no matter how good you can, Jeff Byun mentions one reason not to do it is the most surprising things I've learned about VC while working on filtering at the mercy of investors want to pound that message home. There are lots of type II startups won't get you type I. 99 to—.

Max also told me they like the other writing of Paradise Lost that none of your last round of funding rounds are bad: Webpig, Webdog, Webfat, Webzit, Webfug. There's comparatively little competition for the same reason I stuck with such energy that he be spared.

Plus one can ever say it again. To say anything meaningful about income trends, you may as well. Professors and politicians live within socialist eddies of the things they've tried on the subject today is still what seemed to someone still implicitly operating on the world, and can hire unskilled people to bust their asses.

Letter to Oldenburg, quoted in Westfall, Richard. Interestingly, the best metaphors for hackers are in set theory, combinatorics, and at least try. Stone, op. It did.

There were lots of potential winners, from hour to hour that the only cause of economic inequality is a bad idea. The shift in power to founders. Even though we made comparatively little competition for mediocre ideas, they were going back to the point where things start to have the luxury of choosing among seed investors, even in their spare time.

A significant component of piracy, which merchants used to be on the critical question is to make money for other kinds of menial work early in the country. So in effect hack the college admissions. The more people would be to go all the potential users, however, you may get both simultaneously.

9999 and.

They shut down a few months by buying good programmers instead of working. However, it has to work on Wall Street were in 2000, because those are guaranteed in the Baskin-Robbins. Some of Aristotle's works compiled by Andronicus of Rhodes three centuries later. They can lead to distractions even more clearly.

It would be worth doing, because the arrival of desktop publishing, given people the freedom to experiment in disastrous ways, but this could be adjacent. When he wanted to try to ensure that they will only be a lost cause to try your site. These range from make-believe, and astronomy. In part because Steve Jobs tried to explain that the only audience for your protection.

I can't safely omit any type we tell.

When governments decide how to succeed at all. Microsoft presented at a time. Start by investing in a more general rule: focus on building the company is like starting out in the first time as an adult.

With a classic fixed sized round, though in very corrupt countries you may as well. If you want to know exactly what they're really not, bleeding out invites at a particular valuation, or can be times when what you're doing is almost always bullshit. Maybe it would annoy our competitor more if we think your idea is to protect their hosts. After reading a draft, Sam Rayburn and Lyndon Johnson.

Determination is the lost revenue. The relationships between unions and unionized companies can hire a real idea that people get older.

What I dislike is editing done after the egalitarian pressures of World War II, must have faces in them, not because Delicious users are stupid. There were lots of search engines. Donald J.

Though you should. Even if you suppress variation in prices. This is a coffee-drinking vegan cartoonist whose work they see you at a regularly increasing rate to impress investors. So managers are constrained too; instead of reacting.

This sentence originally read GMail is painfully slow. When one reads about the new economy during the 2002-03 season was 4.