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corroded-hellfire · 1 year ago

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Where the Heart Is: Epilogue - Eddie Munson x Reader

Part 5

Summary: It’s moving day and the next chapter of your life with Eddie is beginning. And somewhere down the road, pieces of your heart collide with one another, making your anniversary all the more meaningful.

Note: The story has finally come to its close. It amazes me that this was never intended to be a series at all—it turned into one purely because it became so requested of me. It’s been a year since this fic first posted and the number of you who have stood by all this time to see it to the end hold such a special place in my heart. Thank you all for your kind words, generous reblogs, and all the love I’ve received over this story. I have loved writing in this world and would always be open to receiving requests in it. I hope you enjoy this little slice of their happily ever after 🧡

Words: 4.6k

[Where the Heart Is masterlist]

“Jesus Christ, Munson.”

Steve sits down on the edge of the U-Haul, trying to catch his breath after shoving Eddie’s amp on board. The bed of the moving truck is decently full already. The Harrington household was the first stop, and Steve’s things bound for Boston were loaded yesterday.

Today at the Munsons, it’s time to do the heavy lifting. Well, for Eddie and Steve to do the heavy lifting. Not to say that you and Nancy aren’t helping, but you have the easier job of loading up the back of Eddie’s van with boxes full of clothes and other smaller and more delicate objects that are certainly lighter than the alternative.

“What’re ya whining about now, Harrington?” Eddie says, sweat dripping from the curls that frame his face. His hair is in a bun at the base of his neck but it’s not enough to keep him cool in the late August heat.

“That amp weighs more than your bed did,” Steve says.

“No shit,” Eddie argues, wiping his sweaty forehead off on the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Because one is a mattress and a basic frame to hold it up and the other is a goddamn expensive piece of musical equipment. I hope you didn’t ding it at all.”

“I’ll ding you,” Steve mumbles under his breath as he stands back up.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” Steve says as he hops up the steps back into the trailer.

“How ya doing, babe?” you ask, coming over to Eddie after carrying a box of his D&D stuff over to his van.

“Hot. Sweaty. Tired.”

“Aww,” you coo and wrap your arms around his neck. It doesn’t matter in the slightest to you that he’s all sweaty—you’ve been the cause of him getting sweaty many times before. Eddie rests his hands on your hips and pecks your lips.

“Eddie!” Wayne calls from inside.

“Yeah?”

“Are you bringing your desk?”

Your boyfriend chews on his bottom lip, deliberating. “Well, do you wanna keep it?”

“What the hell do I need a desk for?” Wayne asks, making you chuckle.

“Okay, we’ll take it.” Eddie huffs a laugh and gives your hip a squeeze.

“I’m glad that Wayne’s getting a proper bedroom back,” you say.

“And I’m sure he’s glad that we’re bringing the old bed with us and he’s getting a new one. I don’t think he’d get much sleep on it thinking about what you and I have done on it.”

“That doesn’t even include you on your own for years before that,” you tease. Eddie digs his fingers into your ribs, making you squeal and giggle as he tickles you.

Nancy comes out of the trailer, balancing two medium sized boxes in her arms. She raises her eyebrows at Eddie as she walks past him to get to his van.

“Wayne looks like he’s planning on helping Steve carry that desk out here. I’d get your ass in there,” she warns.

Eddie sighs. “Ugh, stubborn old man.” He kisses the top of your head before disappearing inside his home—or rather, former home.

You walk over and help Nancy load up the two boxes she just brought out. Both of you walk over towards the U-Haul and Nancy smacks her hand against the side of it.

“I am not looking forward to driving in this thing with Steve all day,” she says. “He’s never driven something this big but of course he’d never admit that it’ll be difficult.”

You chuckle and nod along, knowing your boyfriend would be the same way. You open your mouth to respond when you hear yelling coming from inside.

“No, tilt it like this!”

“I know what I’m doing!”

“Remind me to never let you work on my car if this is the way you handle things!”

Nancy sighs and shakes her head.

“Do you think it’s too late to tell them that they can’t move in with us?” she asks.

Once everything is on the truck and ready to go, Steve and Nancy say their goodbyes to Wayne and slip into the front seats, giving you and Eddie the chance for a more private farewell. You give Wayne a big hug, which he happily returns.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him,” you promise.

Wayne chuckles and shakes his head as the two of you pull apart.

“Just worried about how long before you call me to come pick him up ‘cause you’ve had enough of him.”

“Never,” you assure Wayne, taking one of his weathered hands in yours and giving it a squeeze.

“You heard her,” Eddie says, nodding his head towards you. “She’s never letting me go. I’m gonna be a prisoner.”

“Locked up in a nice Boston apartment with your girl and two of your best friends,” Wayne says, shaking his head. “When will justice be served?”

When you step back from Wayne, you’re not sure if Eddie wants you to stay or go wait in the van while he says goodbye to the man who raised him. When your boyfriend playfully tugs your ear on the way to his uncle though, you take it as it’s fine for you to be here.

“Well, I’ll see ya soon, Old Man,” Eddie says as he pulls Wayne in for a hug.

“You drive safe, okay?” Wayne asks, his hand clapping his nephew on the back as they hug. “And I mean real safe, not ‘Eddie safe,’ okay? You got precious cargo there you’re carrying.” Wayne throws you a wink over Eddie’s shoulder.

“Oh, I know,” Eddie says. He pulls back and sighs. “Gotta make sure my guitar gets to Boston unharmed.”

Wayne shakes his head and turns to you. “He ever acts up, just smack him on the back of the head. Like this.”

“Ow!” Eddie complains, reaching up to cover the spot where his uncle just thunked him. With a small giggle, you nod your head, affirming that you’ll know what to do.

There’s a brief moment of silence before Eddie sighs and claps his hand onto Wayne’s shoulder.

“You take care, you hear me? Don’t make me start sending Red over here to check on you. Or maybe I’ll just call Abigail.”

At the sound of his new girlfriend’s name, Wayne rolls his eyes.

“I can take care of myself. I’ll see you up there in Boston for Thanksgiving,” he says.

Eddie nods. He goes to take a step towards the van but twists and gives Wayne another hug instead.

“Thanks for everything, Wayne. I mean it. For everything.”

“You’re a good kid,” Wayne says as he hugs him back, tighter than the last time, you notice. “‘M proud of you, son.”

By the time they break apart, your eyes have misted over. Blinking away the tears seems to help, but one or two manage to escape and slide down your cheeks.

Eddie walks over and laces his fingers with yours.

“Ready, sweet girl?”

“Let’s go.”

The two of you hop into the van and, ahead of you, Steve starts up the truck. Eddie’s van rumbles to life and you just pray this thing makes it to Boston. Perks of having a mechanic for a boyfriend, though, are that you don’t have to wait around forever to have some mechanic come by and check it out, then fork out the big bucks for whatever is wrong with it.

Eddie puts the van in drive and follows Steve down the road, towards the exit of Forest Hills. Dark brown eyes flick up towards the rear-view mirror. Eddie watches the front door to the trailer close behind Wayne and takes a long look at the home he grew up in. It’s small, old, and not in the best condition. But it’s where he’s lived his life and had some of the best times he’s ever had. It’ll be weird to him to have a new home. To be in a new city. In a new state. But he’s excited. Excited to turn the page and start this next chapter of his life with you.

Rough, callused fingers find yours as you pull out of the trailer park. You intertwine your fingers with his and bring his hand up to your hand for a kiss.

“You okay, handsome?” you ask.

The grin he gives you makes your breath catch in your chest. You’ll never get over how breathtakingly beautiful he is. The way his curls frame his face just right and how his long eyelashes brush his cheeks every time he blinks.

“Me?” Eddie asks. “Never been better, baby.”

If Steve and Eddie thought that getting furniture out of both their houses and into the truck was hard, they’re in for a nasty surprise. The apartment you’re all sharing is on the second floor of the off-white building the moving van and Eddie’s truck are parked in front of. Both Steve and Nancy’s cars are parked behind the building, in a small private lot. Steve had driven his car here and then flown back with Nancy before the move.

“Ah, Jesus,” Steve sighs as he takes a look at the staircase the two of them will be maneuvering furniture up.

One of the advantages of living close to the school though, is that students are always around, either passing through or lodging somewhere nearby. Luckily, two guys from your and Nancy’s English class last semester come out of the apartment building next to yours.

“Whoa, need some help?” One of the guys, Jerry, asks when he sees the U-haul stuffed to the brim with furniture and boxes.

“Boys?” Nancy asks, turning to face your boyfriends. “Will your pride allow you to let others help?”

“Shit, my pride got knocked out of me the second time I dropped my dresser on my foot,” Eddie says. He turns to Jerry and offers his hand. “We’d appreciate that, man.”

With the help of Jerry and his friend Rich, all of the furniture and belongings are moved into apartment 286 within a few hours. The two good Samaritans wouldn’t accept pizza and beer as a thank you, just insisted helping was no trouble and it counted as their workout for the day.

Between the loading of the vehicles, the long drive, then the unloading of the vehicles, the four of you are thoroughly exhausted. All of the furniture is still in pieces and none of you care beyond making sure each bedroom has the right mattress in it for your inevitable crashes tonight.

“Thank God the bedrooms are on opposite sides of the apartment,” Eddie says to you as you walk out from your shared bedroom.

“I said the same thing to Nance not ten minutes ago,” Steve says. He sets down a box labeled “Living Room” in big black letters. “I don’t wanna hear a damn thing that’s gonna go on in that room of yours.”

“Glad we could finally agree on something,” Eddie says as he slings an arm over your shoulders.

“That’s fine,” Nancy says as she comes out of her and Steve’s room. “But you know we will talk about what goes on in there to each other, right? Girl code and all.”

“Girl code consists of telling each other what goes on in the bedroom?” Steve asks, eyebrows so high they’re practically hidden in his hair.

“Not everything,” you say to placate the men. Even though, obviously, you and Nancy do discuss just about everything that goes on in there with each other. What else are you supposed to talk about when getting coffee together?

“Okay, I’m starving,” Eddie says, resting his free hand on his stomach. “Please tell me we have a goddamn phone book so I can order some food.”

Pizza is ordered and delivered, and since none of you had brought a couch to your new home, the four of you sit on the floor in the middle of what will become your living room as you eat it. Steve pours a cup of Pepsi for everyone, and you all raise your red solo cups.

“What should we toast to?” you ask.

“A smooth semester,” Nancy says.

“To Munson and I finding good jobs here,” Steve adds.

“And to the many adventures we’re gonna have and how they’ll make everyone back in Hawkins completely jealous,” Eddie says.

“Let’s try and keep them in this dimension, yeah?” you say.

“Deal,” Eddie replies.

“To our new beginnings!” you say as you lift your cup.

The four of you tap your cups together, being careful not to be too hard lest you spill some.

It’s an early night, considering how exhausted you all are. That’s why when you come out of the bathroom, yawning and rubbing your tired eyes, the last thing you expected to see when you walked into your room was Eddie plugging in a strand of multicolored Christmas lights. The strings of lights are draped over piles of boxes, Eddie’s dresser, your bedside table, and a bookshelf you’d brought.

The lamp connected to the fan on the ceiling is still on, so it’s hard to really see the glow emanating from the little bulbs.

“What’s all this?” you ask, tapping your fingernail against one of the small red lights.

“Well,” Eddie says as he stands up from his crouched position, “I remember you told me at Christmas you would hang lights in your room and watch them blink and shine as you fell asleep. And, I mean, I know it’s not Christmas time, but I figured these lights might make you happy anyway.”

Your face feels stuck between a grin and a cry as you walk over to your boyfriend. His cheeks are warm as you cup them in your hands and press a kiss to his lips.

“I love them. I love you,” you say softly. “They do make me happy. But you make me the happiest.” You take another look around the room, watching the different colors do their best to be seen in the brightly lit room. “These lights kind of follow us, huh?”

Eddie chuckles and nods his head. “Pretty sure we have custody of them by this point.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can hang them up? Like they were in the van?” you ask. “I mean, who needs crown molding when you have Christmas lights?”

Eddie chuckles and runs his hands up and down your arms.

“God, I can’t believe this is our room. That I get to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up to you each morning.”

“And some fun stuff in between.” You smirk and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Think we should christen the room?” Eddie asks.

Instead of answering, you get down on the mattress that’s on the floor while the bed frame is still dismantled. You pull your pajama shirt up over your head and toss it behind you.

“Pants off, Munson.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

Eddie practically hops out of his pants and throws them in a corner. He yanks the longer chain attached to the ceiling fan and the main light goes dark. Dozens of pretty lights twinkle and dance as you take in the strands around the room. The only word you can come up with to describe how it looks is magical.

There’s a dip on the bed next to you and you look over to see Eddie stripping himself of his shirt as he sits down. He lays back against his pillows and opens his arms for you.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie says. “Let’s fool around on our bed.”

Three Months Later

The apartment is fuller than you’ve ever seen it. You’re in the kitchen, checking on the green bean casserole that you made. Your friends and boyfriend unanimously decided you should be in charge of the side dishes for Thanksgiving because you’re the best cook. Nancy has been making cookies for the last few days with Holly, who flew in for the holiday. That left Eddie and Steve in charge of the turkey. You’re not sure how that’ll go, and if you made a few too many side dishes in case the bird ends up inedible, so what?

“Oh, sweetie?”

You turn around from washing off your hands in the kitchen sink to see Steve’s mom standing before you with the pumpkin and apple pies she brought.

“Can I help you, Mrs. Harrington?” you ask.

When she smiles you immediately know where Steve acquired that feature. Similarly, Mr. Harrington, who is out in the living room talking with Wayne, has the same eyes and nose as his son. They share the same confidence too, even if Mr. Harrington’s sometimes borders on cocky.

“Did you want the pies in the fridge?” Mrs. Harrington asks.

“Oh! Yes, please.” You open the refrigerator door and carefully take the desserts from her and lay them near the carton of milk. “I’ll put those in the oven after everyone is done with dinner.”

Mrs. Harrington takes one of your hands in hers and gives it a soft squeeze.

“Take a deep breath, dear. I know it can seem overwhelming, but you’re doing great. Everything smells delicious. If you need any help, you let me know, okay?”

“I will,” you agree. “Thank you.”

She gives you one last kind smile before walking back out to the living room.

Somehow, you feel calmer after just those few words from Mrs. Harrington. You’ve never even met her before today, but her nurturing presence was comforting. It’s a melancholy feeling because you’ll never have that with your own mother. As much as you’ve accepted that, it still finds a way to sting every now and again.

A ding on the oven lets you know that the biscuits are done. Once you’ve gotten them out of the oven and given the stuffing a few stirs, you see someone come into the kitchen out of the corner of your eye.

“There’s my favorite cook.”

You giggle and step forward to hug Wayne. You’d hugged him when he arrived earlier, but you’re stealing another one now anyway.

“And look at that!” Wayne says. “Wearing the apron I got you for Christmas last year.”

“Oh, I wear this every time I cook,” you tell him proudly, looking down at the turquoise material tied around your waist. There are a few stains here and there despite your best efforts to keep it pristine.

Eddie pops into the kitchen claps a hand against Wayne’s back before coming to stand next to you.

“Need any help, babe?” he asks.

“Actually, I think dinner is just about ready. Help me set the table?”

“No way,” Wayne says with a shake of his head. “You worked hard cooking all this for us, Eddie and I will get everything out on the table.”

The dishes exit the kitchen one by one, to be laid out on the dining room table and Eddie’s old desk that have been pushed together and covered with a burnt sunset tablecloth. The chairs are mismatched as well, but you all had to work with what you’ve got.

Once it seems like everything has been situated, you take a deep breath. It’s out of your hands now. All you can do is hope people enjoy the food you made.

Everyone is gathering around the table, sitting down in front of lovely place settings that Nancy worked very hard on. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington take two seats at the far end of the table. Steve sits down next to his father at the head of the table, with Nancy on his other side. Holly giggles about something Steve said as she slides in the chair next to her big sister.

Wayne slips past you and takes a seat next to Mrs. Harrington. The second head of the table, opposite Steve, is free and you give a little bow and motion for Eddie to take it. He chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead.

The two empty place settings on either side of Eddie seem to stare at you. The extra chairs mock you as you look over the people sitting at the table in your home. Steve and his parents, Nancy and her little sister, Eddie with his uncle. Family. Not just the individual ones, but as a collective group. The four of you who live in this apartment have brought the people in their lives into all of your lives. It’s an extension of a family that keeps going on and on.

“Ah,” Eddie says as he hops up from his seat. “Forgot the wine that Wayne brought.” He gives your lips a quick peck before walking into the kitchen. You can’t help but smile as you watch him. This is where you belong. Eddie is your family and your home.

The quiet knocking pulls you out of your latest Eddie-zone-out. It sounds again and you realize someone is knocking on the front door.

“I’ve got it,” you say as Steve starts to stand.

The cold doorknob bites your hand as you twist it to reveal who’s standing there. At first your eyes are too high, catching on a familiar face but not quite the one that fills you with glee. When you look down, there she is. Large, inquisitive eyes, wide smile, and two pigtail braids to top off her lovely purple dress.

They’re here. You’d extended the invitation to your sister months ago, but never heard back. That wasn’t unusual of your sister, but it did complicate your planning. Nancy insisted that you have the extra place settings and chairs for them just in case. Though you truly believed it would all be in vain, you agreed.

Tears collect along your waterline, and you know it won’t be long before they’re leaking down your face.

“I am so happy you’re here. Look at how tall you got!” You lean down and Chloe instantly jumps into your arms. The hug you give her is as tight as it can possibly be without hurting her. “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you, too!” Chloe says as she pulls away and you stand up.

More surprising than opening your front door and seeing your sister and niece, your sister leans in and pulls you into a hug.

“It’s really nice to see you,” she says.

As stunned as you are, you manage to hug her back. It’s a warm and comforting hug—something you never thought you’d get from her again.

“It’s nice to see you too, Melanie.” You find yourself actually meaning those words. This is certainly no indication that things will become more stable between the two of you, but at least it’s a nice gesture on a holiday.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” you tell both of them, but give Chloe a wink. “Eddie? Babe?”

He steps out of the kitchen, wine bottle in hand, and his head swivels as he searches for you. You see his eyes take in you, then the woman and little girl who look very similar to you. A grin lights up his face and you just know how happy he is for you. He sets the wine bottle down on the table and walks over to you. The closer he gets, the shyer Chloe becomes. Though she’s too big for it now, she tries to hide herself behind your legs.

“Eddie, this is my sister Melanie and my niece Chloe,” you say.

Your boyfriend squats so he can be on more of an even level with the girl. He offers a hand to her.

“It’s nice to meet my girlfriend’s favorite person,” he says.

Chloe still looks a little unsure, but she comes out from behind your legs just enough to shake his hand.

“I think that’s you,” she tells Eddie softly.

“Why’s that?” Eddie tilts his head in curiosity.

“Because she’s never smiled like that when she’s looked at me before.” Chloe looks up at you, now a speechless mess, and then lowers her head to look at Eddie again. “When you came outta the kitchen. It was a big, big smile. I never seen her smile that big before.”

Heat rises to your face as your niece calls out your terminal case of lovesickness. Eddie doesn’t seem to know what to say either as he stands back up and takes your hand in his.

“Let’s, um. Let’s all sit down before the food gets cold,” you suggest. In your frazzled state, you forgot you didn’t exactly introduce your sister and boyfriend properly. You quickly remedy the situation and let them shake hands and have a polite greeting while you bring Chloe to the other side of the table where you’re sitting.

“Here we go,” you say as you help her into her chair. “This is Holly. She’s my friend Nancy’s little sister. That’s Nancy there, that’s Steve, those are Steve’s mom and dad, and this is Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.”

Chloe is seated directly across from Wayne and gives him a shy smile.

“Hi, darlin’,” Wayne greets. “Are you happy to see your aunt?”

“Yes!” Her face lights up and it absolutely melts your heart.

Eddie and Melanie come over and join you at the table; Eddie next to you at the head of the table, and Melanie directly across from you. A special sort of warmth you’ve never felt before overtakes your body. It's comforting, like wrapping yourself in the fluffiest blanket on a cold day. The source of this feeling smacks you in the face. You’re sitting between your two favorite people in the world. A part of you never thought this would actually happen, but here it is. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

Steve rises at the opposite end of the table, his wine glass in hand. It looks like someone poured it in Eddie’s absence. All heads turn to Steve, some unfamiliar faces staring back at him, and a lot of familiar ones. It doesn’t make a difference though. Steve is addressing everyone at the table.

“We’re grateful that each of us has some family with us today. The world is crazy, and you never know when things are going to go upside down.”

You, Eddie, and Nancy share a look, smirks on each of your faces at Steve’s hidden joke that only you three would get.

“So, here’s to family, friends, and the moments that bring us together.”

“Cheers!”

Everyone clinks their glasses together, reminiscent of the four of you knocking your red solo cups of Pepsi against each other. The difference between then and now is purely the nicer dinnerware and fuller apartment. The sentiment is still the same. A celebration of what you’ve accomplished so far and excitement for the adventures that lie ahead.

Under the table, Eddie laces his fingers with yours. Your mind wanders back to last Thanksgiving. The first time you and Eddie held hands. The first time you kissed. The first time you met. Back then, you never could have imagined what was beginning to blossom. The surprise of it sneaking up on you is half the fun.

Now you’re here, exactly where you belong. The people around this table own pieces of your heart, with Eddie holding the largest shard. This is what family is. This is home.

Eddie lifts your hands from under the table and presses a kiss to your knuckles. The soft chink of your charm bracelet the only sound penetrating the bubble that you and Eddie are in. Your newest charm, the little silver turkey you received this morning, stares up at you from where it rests on your wrist.

Soft lips on the back of your hand have your eyes rising to meet Eddie’s again. He leans in and steals a soft, tender kiss. A small giggle from behind you lets you know that you’re being spied on. But you couldn’t care less who watches you kiss your boyfriend.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” someone calls, you’re not sure who.

Eddie just smiles and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Eddie.”

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

#Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #WTHI

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princemick · 1 year ago

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TUMBLR F1BLR RULES!!!

hi, hello and welcome, we've seen what's been happening to twitter and we welcome you to our little corner.

there are however some things that differ from Twitter to Tumblr and so we have some different rules and behaviour then you might be used to!! I'm gonna try to explain them to you in this post! everything is below the tab!

reblog reblog reblog!!! likes do absolutely nothing, and your blog 'aestetic' in reblogs doesn't really matter unless you're a specific aesthetic blog, reblog are the way people see the content. likes are private! so remember to reblog the stuff you see and like!

DO NOT STEAL GIFS/GRAPHICS I WILL COME AFTER YOU!!! always ask if you can use a gif an then ALWAYS CREDIT properly

shipping is, prevalent. shipping even rpf is ingrained into tumblrs culture on every side of it if you dont like it thats a you thing, you can 'blacklist' tags so just add 'rpf' or the shipnames to them and you should be good!

continuing with that idea, curate your own experience is the most important thing on this site, blocking and blacklisting is normal and very much allowed and welcomed. almost no one is going to change how they do or act around here for one person, just unfollow or blacklist.

but do NOT put long posts or x reader fics, anything in the main tag without putting it under a 'read more' tab people will get annoyed by you

followers dont matter!!! no one CARESSS about basically anything this site is wonderfully anonymous and we can't see how many followers anyone has so genuinely no one gives a shit do whatever you want

remember to trigger tag and unlike twitter spell it out completely! so when a crash happens or is talked about make sure to tag it 'tw crash' even with reblogs!! also remember to tag when you're being negative about a driver as 'anti *insert first name*' never do full name then it will show up in their tags which defeats the purpose of anti tagging.

adding to that, use tags! they're one of the best tumblr features its free to be overenthusiastic and excited in the tags BUT the blog you can reblog it from AND the op can also read those tags so keep that in mind!!

be nice! this shud be a given, be nice, let people do their thing and vibe, just support people and block when u you dont vibe with them! when you do wanna send hate asks do it off anon, dont be shy do it on main

and things arnt 'weird' in the same way they are on twitter, this place has no drivers and no public figures so shame is a lot less existent here, you have to get used to that

and lastly as quoted by my anon 'Don't be afraid to be funny or weird be thirsty on main ship the middle aged man no one cares.'

and most of all. HAVE FUN!!! dont be scared to ask people how things work most of us are very okay with answering 'dumb' questions a lot of us have been here for about a decade we know its a confusing platform please ask away!

#kyle.txt #f1 #formula 1 #f1blr

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ryescapades · 2 months ago

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characters i can try to write for (most > least confident in) :

kn8: narumi, hoshina, reno bllk: rin, sae, nagi, isagi, kaiser, bachira, reo, oliver, chigiri, shidou, karasu, hiori, barou wbk: sakura, suo, togame, endo, umemiya, takiishi, kaji, kiryu hq: (too many to list so i guess almost all of them ?? except for the coaches) genshin: childe, kinich, alhaitham, scara, xiao, kazuha, wrio, thoma touanki: mudano (i'm biased but if someone asks for the others i can make an attempt) jjk: megumi, yuta, maki, nanami, yuji, gojo knb: kise, aomine, akashi mha: katsuki, shoto, hawks, dabi, shinsou

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rosewaterandivy · 1 year ago

Text

9. part-time soulmate, full-time problem

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, cursing, sexual situations - SMUT & idolatry (my usual bullshit), we think we’re ~prank Sinatra~ to disastrous effect i.e. a fake elopement, Modern!Teacher AU, English teacher reader, History teacher Steve, slow burn, friends to lovers, romance.

A/N: hey girl, u up? lemme come thru 💦💦💦 🥵🥵🥵 *slaps roof of fic* You can fit so much reverence and smut in this bad boy. Here’s 5.1K of pure filth and debauchery, holy water can’t help me now! Poetry excerpt from Sue Zhao. 18+ mature content (minors dni). Reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated, please let me know what you thought; enjoy & thanks for reading! 💜

series masterlist | playlist - newly updated!

Steve's playlist for Trouble: trouble will find me

previous || next

Now, Spring Break, Joshua Tree, CA ➡️ Las Vegas, NV

“You did what?”

And it’s not a question, not by a long shot.

If Nancy Wheeler wasn’t some 1,800 miles from you, you’d be seeing the patented snarl right now. The one that says ‘you’ll be dead by my hand and my hand alone.’

There’s a very real possibility that you’ve overplayed your hand this time. What started as a prank, a harmless lark, had devolved into one screeching phone call from Steve’s mother for him and a blistering series rapid-fire of texts for you, followed by a phone call during which Nancy was going to rip you a new asshole.

She didn’t appreciate your texts as you’d hoped.

Trouble 👁️👄👁️: so BDE is not *just* an energy with Steve. got it, good to know.

Natty light 💯: She lives! We haven’t heard from you in days. Wtf did you idiots do?

Trouble 👁️👄👁️: nothing to be concerned about! on an unrelated note, before you check insta remember that i am your BESTIE and you would miss me terribly(!!!) if i died, even if it was at your own hand

Natty light 💯: … I’m going to kill you, and resurrect your dessicated corpse so I can strangle you … slowly and painfully

Trouble 👁️👄👁️: pls mother, no, i’m scared

But hey, it’s not like you woke up and decided to potentially fuck up your life today.

So, yeah. Definitely went too far with it this time, but in your defense, it’s not like anyone was there to reign you in. Steve was just as liable to go on with your half-cocked schemes, even more so now that you could sit back on your heels, all pretty smiles and wide, sweet eyes as your hands unbuckle his belt, still supplicated with chin on his knee, “You said anything...”

Folded like a house of cards the second you got your mouth on him. Shudders when you begin with your tongue first before eager lips stretch to fit him, guiding until he’s nestled in your mouth. And then you move, deliberately measured, building a lazy pace, sluicing him up with spit.

“Ah, shit…” Steve’s words are already betraying him. You smile as his cock pops out of your mouth.

“How’s that? Still wanna make that dinner reservation?” Thick lashes framing glittering doe-eyes peer up at him. Purposely coy. “Or do you want to stay here?”

He returns to himself. Dazed, he blinks at the bright lights and the glossy tiled floor. The marble countertop of the sink where he grips like a lifeline.

The restroom down the hall of the restaurant. Turn a corner and twenty people are sitting at tables, drinking cocktails and cajoling. Your mouth back on him wipes the thoughts from his brain.

Squelching when you push him back past your molars, crushing your tongue.

You slide him out, voice hoarse and breathy and it chills him to the bone the way you whisper, “C’mon baby, let’s have some fun.”

The second day in California runs a lot more smoothly, and the third day is as easy as a breeze. Granted, it’s a hot, humid, sticky type of desert breeze as you wipe a hand across your forehead in the heat of the day.

Steve hums a patient tune, leans back on both palms and you watch the sunlight drape his bare chest in a warm flare. Glowing gold and bronze as if it’s transmuted from the hue in his very eyes.

He is hard and hot when your bare skin touches his. Steve lies down on his side to face you, panting slightly as you glide your hand up and down his arm. Oh fuck, it’s been months and the first man you touch is more like something carved by a master sculptor of Renaissance than any other man. It should be illegal for someone to look this good.

Trembling, you touch the hard planes of his torso, the ridges in his abdomen, the swell of his chest taking hard breaths. You shut your eyes and imagine the way he looks right now—breathless and wild. His knee parts your legs easily and one hand descends to feel your center, saturating your underwear.

“Jesus, baby,” Steve sighs into your neck. “You’re makin’ me crazy. This–” He begins to slide his digits up and down, getting the slippery wetness all over his fingers, “Already…”

A shudder rolls through your body upon hearing his words and you arch into his touch, moaning when he rubs your clit in perfect pulsing circles. He moves forward, kissing the tops of your breasts through your bra, nipping at the soft flesh spilling from the cups.

“Steve, you’ll make me come.” You admit, a little shyly even as your hips rock consciously into his hand. You paw at his arms, squeezing the ridges of muscles.

And you’re abruptly startled awake by the sound your own moans. It’s past four in the morning when you rouse from sleep, frustrated to leave behind the pleasant escape the dream provided.

Damn it all to hell.

A creak of the wood door alerts you to his arrival. Steve is quiet when he sits on your bed, one knee pulled up to his chest while the other leg slinks down by your side, thigh brushing yours where your legs kicked off the covers. A sigh rolls through him at the early hour.

There is discomfort. His body retreats with the shift of your atmosphere. Always too itchy in your own skin. Afraid of being seen, noticed, thought about. He’s good at hearing your silence. Good at reading your language.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He glistens like a god come to drown you in the sweetest of dreams. It makes your heart plummet to its death at the thought of his departure when you shake your head.

“Me neither.”

He lays back on your bed with a tired sigh, close enough to touch. Your own personal wonder.

“C’mere then,” you tug him to your side. Steve presses his lips to your neck, smiles into the wispy hair at the nape, nuzzles your locks aside to reveal more shoulder. Breathing soft and slow with his face against your neck, chest to your chest. He’s folded and tucked against you, all his strength and gravity nestled to your side.

“Honey—” Steve murmurs, more purposefully now, rasps your name, so soft and reverent you almost don’t hear it.

A confused noise, a second of readjustment to a new position, to his touch, and then you stir and purr.

“Hey, you.” Voice like warm fire, even with disrupted sleep from past few days.

A heavy silence falls between you.

Tell me what you’re thinking. If it was a mistake, tell me. If it wasn’t, tell me. You’ve been avoiding me and look—I want your goddamn babies, but c’mon. You gotta throw me a bone, I’m shit at reading signs.

He wants to take you to pieces, eyes roving your sleep-drowsy form, shorts rucked up on your thighs, shirt askew. Would devour you whole if you’d let him, savor your cries and moans at his capable hands. Make a ruin you only to build you right back up, unable to think of anyone else save him.

Steve arches, brushing the tip of his nose against your chin, up to your own nose, mouth hovering but not quite touching, just feeling each other’s atmosphere. You cross the distance and kiss him, grip tighter now like he could collapse right into you and god, you wish he could. Let you keep every last bit of him forever.

“Can we—”

You savor his lips, caressing the line of his cupid’s bow with your own, tongue flicking over the corners of his mouth, punctuating it chastely like a ritual. He moans, hand on the plane of your back moving, fingers scrambling at your spine before he palms your thigh and slots you flush against his torso with one leg hooked around his waist.

“God yes. Lemme just—”

He tugs at the waistband of your sleeping shorts before he changes his mind and his hands slip into the leg opening of the silk instead, keeping you right where you are. He rucks his own sweats down, just enough to spring himself free, shushing your whines, never letting you get too far, slipping upward, finding your heat.

“Eyes on me, baby.”

“Okay, Steve—ah—”

Right. So this is happening. Like, right the fuck now.

Oh god.

You’re both surprised and terrified, blinking at his urgency, and then you start scrambling, too. A beatific grin blooms on your lips before you tip forward and slowly glide yourself down his considerable size, rubbing back and forth, hips moving easily.

Steve stutters breathlessly like he might go into shock. “You’re all fucking— oh fuckin’ hell.”

You only arch into it, holding his chin between your thumb and forefinger, kissing the bristles of his jaw. You’re soft and warm and he’s utterly overcome. Little noises fall from one mouth to another. An awkward shift and your thighs slip off his, head knocking into him, but neither of you are bothered.

A half-hearted cluck of your tongue gives way to a low moan and you shuffle, flush against his chest, bare bodies warm and growing hotter now. Your palm rubs down his chest, savoring the rougher feel of his hairs there, contrasting your own skin, grasping his jutting hipbones, the strong plane of his abdomen.

Eager fingers slip between flesh. Velvet and surprisingly slick and wrapping around his digits like syrupy flower petals. “Baby girl,” Steve hums at the way you sigh. “Pretty girl.”

Shudders. You’re weak and boneless, slack and supple, pliant to his fingers and words. Little sweet-talker, you never knew he had such a clever tongue until he first slid it against yours in that fevered kiss in December. Now he’ll know all your weaknesses, know every lock and how to pick them until you’re all the way opened up for him.

It’s hard to focus when he’s like this. Perfectly warm. Perfectly adoring. Perfectly fitted. So, so bright with the faintest pink bursting over his cheeks.

You whimper with his every stroke. Every plunge. His other hand runs itself up the nape of your neck, fingertips in your scalp and you arch like a cat for more.

“So good,” Steve praises, “Nice and tight, squeezin’ around me. All wet for me, aren’t you?”

“Uh— mhm.” Inarticulate noises. Woozy and wrapped in his affection.

His eyes– pupils blown wide, half-hooded with lust and love– immobilize you, memorizing every inch of your face. He smiles. Christ, a smile that could launch a thousand ships. That could blind the whole world.

You curse quietly, blood pounding in your ears, your chest, your throat where he latches on with his perfect mouth, marking you up with his spit quickly followed by his teeth.

“Keep going—oh, don’t stop–“

“You want it like this, honey?” He sucks on your collar, on your shoulder, taking every whimper and cry as a command to continue.

They flower all over your chest. Red and purple and swollen bright for everyone to see—just like him. And the very thought of him, of you, lost to it takes you over the edge, calling his name like you’re at an altar in supplication.

“That’s it, honey. Be a good girl and come for me.”

With a tremble that vibrates all the way to into Steve’s soul, you obey. Onto his hips and abdomen, gushing a little, and with some embarrassment that it happened all so quickly.

Your lids flutter open and you see as Steve hitches himself deeper, grinding his hips, gripping your thighs, and fills you all the way up until the stars behind your eyes whites out your vision, making you stutter and keen as you continue to fall apart.

Then he stills, pulling you even closer, body slick with dew in the early morning light. The two of you lie in perfect symmetry, trembling in each other’s arms.

And because you’re a sap with too much poetry rattling around your brain, all that pops into your head is:

In my dreams I am kissing your mouth and you’re whispering ‘where have you been?’ I say, ‘I’ve been lost but I’m here now. You’re the only person who has ever been able to find me.’

You allow yourself to sink into the feeling, expecting the tight fit of something new but finding that not to be the case at all. But rather brushing against something well-worn, as if it had been waiting for you all this time.

“God, Steve—” you rasp. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Steve laughs low, kisses the blooming bruises up and down your neck, makes you whine again, sensitive and aching. His clever tongue wonders sweetly, “How’s staying in bed all day sound?”

You laugh. He’ll learn everything you like. Know all your weaknesses. How can you say no to something like that?

It’s different, almost tender in the afternoon.

His abs clench in time with his fists, wet fingers digging into his palms, bit-back groans barely contained. You keep going, marveling at the way he’s sensitive, kissing his neck, letting him feel good. Steve begins to protest, embarrassed at the way you’re moving, at how he’s powerless against you.

“S-slow—hold on—“

“Let me do it, Stevie.” He’s so hard it hurts. “I wanna learn everything you like.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Steve holds himself to calm down, other hand steadying your teasing. Nothing’s happened yet, you just started back up again after a late breakfast, having slept soundly through the morning, and he might already blow his whole fucking load.

“Okay—just—will you give me a second–”

Using the position you’re already in, he pushes you up against the mattress and guides you back down, hitching your thighs around his hips, sinking a bit at a time until you’re landing on him with a gasp. He eases into you with what he hopes is restraint, letting you have it slow, feeling you shudder from inside your goddamn bones with every further inch until he takes it away and you shimmy down to the hilt.

Your eyes roll back. And you look perfect.

“Was it good?” He blurts, “With Eddie?”

He doesn’t know why it slips out; he never thinks about it, honest. It was a series of hook ups. A few times over the years—and he’s not jealous like that because you’re all adults, and it’s not like he’s a virgin or an ascetic, either. You freeze, but he really is an idiot because instead of apologizing or rectifying that outburst, he cuts you off.

“I can give it to you better.”

Because Steve wants to. He really does.

He presses onward before you can respond, taking hold of what little courage he has, making you whimper, feeling prouder as he goes. Another one and you’re meeting him with a roll of your own hips. Another one, harder now, and you’re shaking down below him, tipping back into the pillows, grinding recklessly with that exhilaration he adores.

“Baby, you feel amazing.” Tongue-tied like a schoolboy, he’s keening after your words. “Can I have you all the time?” And Jesus wept who knew you could talk so sweet and filthy.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Steve promises, his jaw hanging open in awe, “I’m yours. You can have me as much as you want— anytime.”

You bite your lip, skin of it pulled taut and snapping back bruised, light-headed and reeling. Glistening across your collarbones with his spit, body trembling like a high note. He feels it— just a little more— god, you look incredible— he’s gotta hold out for this— and then—fuck.

It’s wet and divine when you come. Slick and tight, dragging him under as you ride out your orgasm, pulling him in like he belongs in you forever.

And he knows. He knows, he knows, he knows.

Steve could die happy seeing your face like this every day.

Two weeks prior…

“Eddie…tell me the truth,” You ask slowly, folding clothes (well, that’s a generous term— it’s more haphazardly tossing and bundling laundry into your open suitcase). “It’s good, isn’t it? Shawty, tell me what that thang do!”

You waggle your brows, make a V-shape with your fingers, and lewdly run your tongue up and down between them. Steve thinks he sees you looking at him, but he feels himself flushing at your comment and pretends like he’s enthralled with the most recent episode of Keeping Up with the Kardashians. Half-keeping an eye on you to make sure you actually pack actual pajamas and pants for this trip.

“Dude. Stop it.” Eddie groans, knowing you’re all too familiar with his endowments and prowess from previous experience.

Whomever currently was getting the Eddie Munson midnight special was having a helluva time.

You lob a pair of leggings toward your suitcase, “Kobe!”

You miss.

Eddie cackles, “How’re you gonna disrespect a legend like that, and miss?!”

“Okay!” Steve yells, pushing you off the couch in the living room, “That’s enough of that. I’m going for a run.”

Landing on your shoulder with a grunt, you brush away the rough sting of the carpet and catch the last second of his shadow before he’s gone from the room.

“What?” You call, projecting your voice and hoping he hears, “What’d I do? Steve!”

The scrape of the chair legs signals Eddie standing up, too. A shake of his head and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“You know,” he starts, “For all your insight, you’re pretty dense.”

There’s nothing in your head but sawdust and thoughts about his… activities under the sheets his flavor of the month. You shake it out of your brain before it lingers too long. Eddie points sharply down the hall to where Steve’s shadow has slipped out of view and hearing-distance.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Uh? Your brain is the mac loading wheel, just spinning. “Of course he does? We’re buddies?”

Eddie cuffs you in the back of the head, “Get it together. Like is putting it lightly, too. Love is closer to the truth.”

“Now,” Eddie leans over you, menacing you with his height. “How about you go listen to the record he gave you and think about what you’ve done, hmm?”

Then, he saunters off, shaking his head all the while, leaving you to gape down the hall like a fish. Steve? In love? With you?

Flashes explode in your brain like fireworks. His jacket over your shoulders—not the first time. Sitting underneath your legs— nearly tradition. Morning errand runs even though he hates them. The banter—him, scolding your motor-mouth, you— never stopping. Circles he rubs on your knees— the laughter—damn it, so much laughter.

Steve? In love? With you? It’s more likely than you think.

Back in your bedroom and chastened, you wait until the front door closes signaling Steve’s exit. Turning to the wall dedicated to your impassioned analytical skills, you eye the various colors of yarn showing the various connections that could be drawn from the song choice and order in which they were placed.

Printed out pages of lyrics have been annotated to death, some phrases scrawled more largely than others for importance. You stare at the wall for the better part of an hour, long enough to come to the end of the playlist. Sufjan Stevens rhapsodizes on the mystery of love and fades into Matt Berninger singing how he needs his girl.

A gasp. A choke and a wail somewhere deep inside your chest as you slowly, methodically begin removing the pins and pages from your wall. Realization settling on you heavy with mood.

Clearly, this was not some bush-league bullshit.

Hesitant, but growing in the knowledge that Steve, your best friend whom you annoy to no end, is irrefutably and undeniably in love with you. You’d have seen it sooner if you weren’t such a dumbass, all the signs had been there just lying in wait. The front door opens once more, his voice calling out to Robin in the kitchen about dinner.

“Steve.” You light out of your room, tearing down the hallway. “Stevie! Steve! I’m sorry! Steve oh my god! I’m a fuckup!”

You trip on the corner of the floor runner, as he turns, slightly confused, one hand reaching out to catch you as you careen into his chest with a thunk.

You must look a wreck, hair in disarray and panting hard, him sweat-slick, bearing your weight as he sets you right on your feet.

Steve raises an eyebrow, blinks at the way the front of your shirt slides from your shoulder and takes his ear buds out, looking at you like you’re a first-rate idiot.

And well ... he’s not wrong.

The flight to Vegas is painless, though you are put out at having to leave the love nest that bloomed like a night flower in the Californian desert. A lazy, slow start to the day. Sticky and sweet like biting into a ripe peach, juices flowing down against sun-warmed skin.

His hand pulling at yours, guiding you through the crowds of the airport, looking back to you frequently, as if he can’t bring himself not to. One hour later and viva, Las Vegas!

As it turns out, it’s fairly easy to fake a Vegas elopement. Just a matter of subterfuge and a wedding chapel, which are a plenty in Clark County. Steve in a suit (“You weren’t even wearing a tie, Steven! Who gets married looking like that!?”), rotating the signet of his ring out of sight, the ‘H’ resiting against the underside of his ring finger so just the band was visible.

You in a dress, something white and off the rack from Neiman’s, your ring, courtesy of Steve, moved from your right hand to your left. Sapphire earrings as your something blue, Manolo Blahnik pumps in your favorite color, a gift from Steve, as your something new.

A well-timed call to Jonathan, he was in town for a shoot and just so happened to have a few hours to kill. An appointment at the Graceland Wedding Chapel and 250 dollars later, you have yourself a believable elopement, no marriage certificate required.

Even drove out to the Red Rock Mojave desert outside of town for a photoshoot courtesy of one Jonathan Byers, professional photographer. By the time you’d made it back to your room at the Wynn that night, he’d already done a rough edit of a few photos for you to post to the ‘gram. Piece of cake, really.

It was all well and good. Steve even let you tag him and posted his favorite images himself, miracle of miracles. The man does jack shit with social media, claims he only has the account for the groupchats and memes. Captioned it something like ‘married AF’ because he’s a dork; first photo in the carousel was a shot of your hands, showing off the new bling with the wedding chapel sign in the background.

You opted for the more truthful, ‘ew, boy. you’re, like, obsessed with me’ and selected a photo where your legs wrapped around Steve’s hips after he’d told you to ‘time to giddy-up, yeah?’ with a wink and caught you in his arms before kissing you stupid. You were quite pleased with yourself until the phones began to ring.

“Jus’ ignore it, honey.” His teeth pull against your bottom lip, bringing your attention back to him. You screw your eyes shut, hand falling to cup the nape of his neck as his lips continue their mapping of your skin. Purposefully, he plays with a lock of your hair, tucks it behind your ear, and lets his finger ghost over your neck. “Gonna kiss you now,” you murmurs, “Doin’ some of my best work here and you’re missing it.”

He pouts.

Your throat clenches, bobbing with a thick swallow and Steve thinks if this wasn’t so tender and sweet, he’d be latching onto that pulse instead. “Okay…” Your mouth parts expectantly, eyes fluttering closed, hand coming up to caress his jaw.

It’s sublime. It’s perfect. It’s the biggest relief he’s ever felt when you return his touch—parting your lips to receive the tip of his tongue against yours. Thirst. Desperation. Enthusiastic limbs scrambling to feel more of him. A bucking of your hips against his thigh and he’s soaring up into heaven with the sensation.

Except the damn phone won’t stop ringing.

“Steve,” you pant, hand reaching up to fist his hair and pull him from your the sensitive spot he’s located behind your ear. As you tangle your fingers in his mane of hair, securing your grip with a tug, he breaks contact with your slick skin with a strangled moan.

Oh.

You file that particular reaction away for further investigation and direct his attention to the loudly ringing phone on the nightstand. He rolls off of you with an exasperated noise and answers the call in a sulk. “Hi, Ma.”

His expression changes so quickly you nearly have whiplash; lazy and pouty one moment to shocked silent in the next while his mother lectures him, a mile a minute. Eyes cutting to you, he grabs your phone from the same table and holds it in font of you to unlock it via Face ID. You roll your eyes and bat him away, taking a slug of water from the glass on your bedside table.

“Shit,” Steve mutters, putting himself on mute and his mom on speaker as he scrolls through your phone. “Holy fucking shit, nonono.”

You lean over and take a peek. He’s thumbing through Facebook, pupils blown wide in shock at the sheer number of notifications on his accidental post. Because yes, Steve accidentally cross-posted the photos from Instagram to Facebook as an update, like genius.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?”

He drops your phone on the bed when it starts to ring, like it’s a venomous thing that could take him down in one strike.

Sheepishly, he looks to you and mouths ‘I’m so sorry’ as he returns to his mother’s raging diatribe.

After checking the caller ID, you answer, voice flat. “Hello.”

“You little scamp,” Eddie tuts, “Stole my idea of eloping in Vegas and everything, I hate you.”

In spite of yourself, you crack a smile. “It’s a prank, babe.” A sigh as you pull your hair up and off of your shoulders. “Not legally binding at all. Having Byers on deck really sold the idea though.”

“You are the absolute worst, Trouble.” You warm at his soft laughter, “What’d you do to get Steve to agree? Drop to you knees all nice and pretty?”

A swell of pride accompanies the rush of heat at the thought of your earlier rendezvous. “Y’know Eds, I did exactly that. How perceptive of you.”

He cackles. “It’s tried and true for a reason, babe.” Steve is nodding furiously at whatever his mother is yammering on about, bare back toward you as he sits on the edge of the bed.

A push and a slide across the rumpled sheets and you’ve wrapped around him like a vine. His thumb rubs at your ankle, pulling your leg to envelop his hip. Opposite arm dangling across his chest as you press your face into his neck, revelling in his scent—cypress, vetiver, and something slight musky tinged with salt. All warm and pliable.

“Nance may have called in some reinforcements.” Eddie says carefully. “I told her to fuck off, but she’s beyond reason at this point.”

“Whaddya mean?”

He sighs, “Just be on the lookout for an angry lesbian, alright?”

You snort, drawing Steve’s attention. He twists in your hold, phone discarded on the table finally, fingers trailing tantalizingly up and down your sides. Pushes you back against the bed, chin resting on your sternum as you talk with Eddie, head tilted as he listens.

Begging off the phone call, you say your goodbyes. “Hey,” Eddie says before you go, voice soft and warm, “You happy babe? You sound it.”

“Yeah,” you turn your head and grin at the ridiculousness of your life. Steve follows your lips, his own blazing a trail across your chest and up to meet your shoulder. “I’m really happy, Eds.”

Steve plucks the phone from your hand, “Bye Munson!” He sings before ending the call and unceremoniously dropping your phone on the floor.

And Steve never thought a person was supposed to laugh so hard during sex, or maybe that’s just your own brand of love, but he doesn’t want to find out with anyone else.

It’s the fifth time, and Steve’s dick is about to fall off—how are you still doing this—just a few thrusts in when the banging on the door frightens the both of you into your clothes.

Robin swings it open and Steve is desperately tucking himself into his pants before—please, no.

“It smells like ass in here!” She hollers, “The hell have you two been—oh my god.”

“Shut up, Rob!” You respond from the corner of the room, head ripping through the neck hole of a shirt, legs wiggling into a pair shorts. Steve is still shirtless, hoping he might spontaneously combust.

“Oh my god,” Robin whispers again, “Oh… my god.” She sputters on the verge of either eruption or death.

“You freaky little—” she hisses, before screaming, “Oh fuck no! I’m here picking your asses up. Got on a flight at ass o'clock from Indy— you're butt-ass-naked in here—” She stands ram-rod straight, hands on her hips angrily. “I’m tellin’ on you.”

“Telling on?! What are you, five!? You’re so annoying, Rob!”

“Annoying? What’s annoying is—I’m exhausted! And well— you're exhausted too, huh?”

“I hate you.”

She snickers, high-fiving herself before crossing her arms, “Now get your freaky asses outside so I can go home and drink myself into forgetting I ever saw Harrington’s dick.”

You pat her on the shoulder, “It’s nice, huh?”

Robin dry-heaves, “Uh-uh. That’s enough. Go wash your damn hands.”

A few minutes later, Steve closes the door to the now-silent hotel room, damp with sweat and the lingering aroma of musk. Robin trots on ahead, leading the pair of you through the lobby and out into the dry desert heat.

His hand pulls at yours, reassuring and warm. A small smile blooms across your face and you allow yourself to revel in it for a moment: heading home with Steve, can't even bring yourself to be all that mad at Robin's antics.

Not when he turns back to check on you, all tan skin and that devastating smile. Tugs you closer as Robin flags down the Uber, lays his lips against yours, and kisses you with a sweetness only he could bring.

Oh yeah, you think tangling your free hand in his shirt. This'll do just fine.

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #reader insert #teacher!steve #the kids aren't alright - rosewaterandivy

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kairiscorner · 1 year ago

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AWOO AWOO ANON IS BACK WITH ANOTHER GWEN PROMPT 🚨🚨🚨 (but it’s abt like parent talk and annoyances so its okay if you don’t wanna do this <33)

HELLO P!! Hehehejhee I hope ur doing well!!! I just come up with a bit of a wholesome kinda angsty idea

Details: reader comes to Gwen’s apartment to rant abt parental issues (minor inconveniences, bickering with parents, details that are pretty minor but it’s so triggering)

(Alam mo yung usual na pinapagsabihan ka like they’re scolding/annoyed kahit na minor lang yung topic 😅?)

Ex. “Ugh my mom rolled her eyes and honestly scoffed when i talked abt Barbie etc.”

(Tas pag tatay nakakatakot mag salita parang galit lagi)

Ex. Pag sinigaw pangalan to call you tas pagutos. BASICALLY ACTING LIKE HE’S BETTER GANON

(TAS LIKE YOU HAVE TO WALK ON EGGSHELLS W BOTH) ((ofc it’s different for everyone but idk why i feel like this is almost universal BKA AKO LANG HAHAHAHAH))

AHEM

So! Just a deep talk with Gwen about how she deals with bickering/fights with her dad would be a cool conversation!! Especially since it’s only them too

(Doesn’t hav to be specific! You can play around with it ofc!! Loaf u and hav a splendid week <3)

(AY CLARIFY LANG suggestions r different from fanfic reqs right..? I don’t wanna be makulit sa suggestions tas yun pala bawal ehe ^^”)

HI POOOO ooo i love the idea! esp bc i'm always one to rant about my parents when we fight 😭😭😭 loaf u too platonically boo 🫶🫶and also, yes! suggestions would be kind of like an idea, but not really asking for a fic to be made, just an idea you wanna share (at least that's how it's gonna be like on my blog!) PERO OK, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS !!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

gwen plopped herself down on the edge of the bed next to you, her expression full of dismay and aggravation. you looked over at her with a semi-fretful gaze. "what happened, gwinny?" you asked her as she sighed and looked into your eyes. "it's my dad, again..." she muttered as she covered her face with her hands, falling back down on your bed as your eyes followed her. you lay down on your side next to her and gently asked her in a whisper if she wants to talk about it. gwen breathed in deeply removed her hands from her face and looked at you from the corner of her eye.

"oh, where to even begin?" she asked aloud to nobody in particular, smiling ever so slightly in an ironic manner as she looked up at your ceiling. she didn't speak for a few moments, until she finally found the strength to open up, even by a tiny bit. she opened up about how her father has been putting a curfew on her, after hearing her sneak back into her room after her nightly patrols. she got mad at him for enforcing that curfew, and he got mad at her for not realizing how all he wants is for her to be safe. "he just wants to feel at ease, like he's not... like he's not failing as a dad." she grumbled out as her eyebrows scrunched up a little as her gaze towards your ceiling morphed into a glare.

"i get how he wants me to be safe, bravo for you dad, but... at least i come home. you leave all the time, what difference does it make if i'm not there at home? what difference does it make when we're both on patrol, we're both concerned about the city and each other, i have your back, it's just... you don't know i'm the one doing the saving, which is good for you." gwen ranted as her voice became softer, as if her inner turmoil had simmered down and hearing her speak her thoughts out was less gratifying than she thought it'd be. gwen breathed in deeply as you moved closer to her, not tearing your eyes away from her one bit.

"i know how you feel, kinda. i sometimes feel like my parents never want me to have any fun, but at the end of the day... they do it for a reason. might not always seem like good reasons, but trust me when i say that among all those reasons," you placed a hand on her shoulder, which caused her to look at you with eyes shimmering with twinkles of shame in them, slight shame that she spoke about her father that way, but they were still gleaming with confusion and frustration, "his love for you as your dad is the biggest reason of all." you finished with a smile as gwen's expression went from agitated to remorseful.

gwen leaned over towards you and pressed her forehead against yours. she gently took your hand in hers and interlocked your fingers together. "thank you... well, i have a lot of explaining to do the minute i get home, then. can't really tell him i've been spider woman for the night again, but i can't really tell him any other made up reason. i just... i want him to stop worrying sometimes." she confessed as you squeezed her hand. you chuckled as you brushed away her hair from her forehead. "he's a dad, he's supposed to worry." you reminded her as you kissed her forehead. "and it's okay." you said as gwen wrapped her arm around your waist and hugged you.

"i guess... sorry i had to dump this all on you when you're supposed to be sleeping." "gwen, never be sorry for letting off some steam. you work so hard to save people you don't even know... and yet you're hesitant about saving yourself. let me save you, at least once for all the times you've saved me." you said as you hugged gwen back. gwen couldn't murmur a 'thank you' anymore as she felt like that wouldn't be enough to do you justice. she held on to you tighter, wishing this moment could last longer. she swore to herself, though, that by tomorrow morning, she'd say sorry to her dad. she'd say sorry and express how she doesn't want to worry him, how she wants nothing more than for him to be at ease, to trust her. and she hopes that one day, she'll be okay with him, they'll be okay with each other; and she has you to thank for helping her realize this.

tags !! @fiannee @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy

#gwen stacy #gwen stacy x reader #gwen stacy x you #gwen stacy x y/n #gwen stacy fluff #gwen stacy angst #ghost spider #spider woman #spider gwen #atsv #atsv fluff #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff #spiderman across the spiderverse angst #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader

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fandomfluffandfuck · 6 months ago

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hi S ok you definitely dont have to answer this bc its basically just me venting and its pretty lame haha but im curious if its something you've ever dealt with or if u have advice... basically i have diagnosed ASD and marvel is my special interest and has been since i was a kid and im pretty positive its going to stay my favorite thing for the rest of my life lol. and sometimes i get so sooo sad and kinda lonely thinking about the fact that like .. i know its basically still one of the biggest fandoms out there but like all my favorite fics were posted like 5-10 years ago mostly from authors that arent even in the fandom anymore and theres never gonna be another movie with steve and bucky together that everyone gets excited about and wants to talk about and theres also just so much less of a fun goofy little tight knit community for stucky on tumblr and online like ... idk i just miss so bad when the mcu was at its peak and there was so much content to consume and so many people passionate about it... and i know theres definitely still a huge presence and like im so thankful that youre an author that i love thats still super active and im always glad to visit your page and to see that theres still so many fans out there that care and wanna interact yknow. but tumblrs different now and its been like ten years since peak stucky content and the actors are all doing their own thing now idk it just makes me sad 😩😩 i feel like such a loser saying it i swear i have other interests and an irl life that is very fruitful and lovely hahaha its just makes me a bit frustrated at my autism because i know i wont be able to ever really stop loving these characters even as others move on

Hey, sweets!

I understand what you mean and you're not a loser, not at all. It's fucking great to have an interest in something, anything--what else is life for? You gotta have something to be focused on and interested in that gives you joy, otherwise, what is there? Just blandness. And, yeah, Marvel fandom is still very much active and that's wonderful and great! But, it's also true that it will never be the same as it was in its heyday. Personally, I wasn't around when the stucky fandom was exploding along the release of CA:TWS/the general MCU height, but I certainly see all the old art, edits, cosplay, etc. that's still reblogged and I've read so many of the fics from years prior, so I have a grasp of what was happening. And I can totally see how you'd miss generally, but especially if your fixation has attached deeply to these characters.

I have a sibling on the autism spectrum (who's old enough to have been diagnosed with Aspergers's syndrome before that was phased out but they are, of course, on the spectrum regardless of arbitrary hierarchical labels that I will restrain from ranting about because I fucking hate that shit, don't talk to me about "high functioning" ugh) and they have a few different life-long hyperfixations as well. So, you're not alone, but, it is hard to think of any actual advice per se. I think you're already doing what you need to be doing, y'know? You're here and enjoying what is going on now, connecting to blogs that are active, finding space where you can talk about these characters, you've got other things to do that also capture your attention, and, of course, you know you're sad about what isn't going on anymore. It's okay to be sad. You can't control what you're passionate about in the same way you can't control who you fall in love with. Are these silly little fictional characters not just people we've fallen in love with a little or a lot, no matter if they don't "exist"? I love that for us. Humans are so cute and full of love.

Fandoms and people change and sometimes it fucking sucks when it happens, sometimes it's great. Either way, it's part of the ecosystem of life. Water and nutrients and air and sun--it makes people change, it makes them grow, and you're allowed to be sad about what they used to be, you just have to keep growing, too. Remember what they were and know who they are now.

Hopefully, something in there helped you feel better, even if it was just from telling someone how you feel.

#asks #stucky #fandom discourse

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andydrysdalerogers · 1 year ago

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Sliding Into Home ~ Maybe I Should Have Ducked?

Pairing: MLB!Frank Adler x Abigail Hernandez (OFC)

Synopsis:

After a trade from Boston to Los Angeles, first baseman Frank Adler would seem to have it all. Money, women, an amazing niece, yes Frank should have it all. Except for one thing. One thing that left after a mistake five years ago. Los Angeles should be the chance to start over. Except she is supposed to be in Boston. Not his new medical director.

* A Frank Adler AU x Major League Baseball Story**

Warning: ANGST (i can't stress this enough), second chances, cheating, S~M~U~T!!, slow burn, drug use, abandonment issues, betrayal, domestic violence (i may have missed some), flashbacks

Dividers by me

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Previous: Wanna Feel Safe Again

Sliding Into Home Master List Main Masterlist

San Francisco is usually beautiful in late Spring. The air wasn’t sweltering yet, the flowers were in bloom.

And the rivalry with Los Angeles was in full swing.

Frank gritted his teeth at the thought of having to see Bobby Fuller again. That asshole had been traded two years after the Vegas incident and he and Frank had been at each others throats during that time. So seeing him with the Giants was hard. The Dodgers would be playing the Giants more often than he did with the Red Sox.

During the first inning, there was almost a full out brawl when the pitcher almost hit Frank in the head with an errant pitch. Frank got into his face but never made a violent move. The benches were given a warning and play continued.

Abby sat in the dugout as the trainer on the field, a responsibility that she enjoyed because not only was she involved with the team, but she was also close to Frank. They didn’t interact much, knowing the TV cameras were everywhere, but Frank gave her a side smirk every once in a while, allowing the butterflies to gather in her stomach. When he could, he gave her a gentle touch, so she knew he was there.

It seemed the game calmed down for a few innings until the top of the sixth. Frank was back at bat and observed a pitching changeup. The new pitcher, Smith, stopped to hear something from Fuller and then warmed up. Frank was curious but he let it go, concentrating on the pitch. The first one was low and inside, the second was away. Frank smirked. He knew he just needed to be patient.

Except when the fastball went wide of the box. And bounced off of Frank’s hand and into his face.

He dropped to the ground, not moving. Abby grabbed her bag and followed another trainer out to the field. “Adler? Frank? Can you hear me?” Abby looked at Dave, the other trainer. “We need to move him. Get the brace.” After fitting Frank with the neck brace, Dave and Abby carefully turned him over. “Oh Frankie,” she whispered.

Frank had blood coming from the side of his face. “Fuck,” he moaned. He blinked. “Cricket?”

“Oh thank God. Let’s get the backboard,” she ordered Dave. As the EMTs came in, she smiled down at Frank. “If you wanted my attention, there are other ways Franklin.”

“Full name treatment. I’m an injured man Cricket.” He smiled but immediately grimaced. Johnny came over to check on him. “Hey man.”

“Adler, jesus, are you ok?”

“Maybe I should have ducked?”

Abby smacks his shoulder. “We’re gonna get him checked out Storm.” They loaded him to a cart as the crowd in San Francisco clapped and Frank gave a wave.

The ride to the hospital was quick and Abby spoke with the attending physician to advise what happened. She stood back in the examination room as the doctors on call checked him over. The lead doctor came to speak to Abby. “Dr. Hernandez, it looks like Mr. Adler has a very minor concussion, a contusion on his face that will require a couple of stitches and a broken pinkie finger. My recommendation is three weeks of healing.”

Abby let out a sigh of relief. “That's better news than I had hoped for. I agree with your assessment. I will let the team know. Thank you so much.”

“We can release him in your care today but no flying for 48 hours. Let me know if you need anything else?”

“Just copies of his records for the team.” They shook hands and Abby went to Frank. “How do you feel about a small vacation?”

“That bad?”

“Broken pinkie, a small cut that needs stitches, and a small concussion. The League is putting you into concussion protocol, which is two weeks and the pinkie will need an extra week. I’m sorry love, but three weeks on the injury reserved.”

“That’s all of June,” Frank whines as he leans his head back. Abby runs her nails through his scalp gently and he lets out a hum of contentment. “Will you stay with me Cricket?” He looked at her with puppy eyes.

“I will have to work a little but yes, I can stay with you.”

“What about...”

“He’s back east with the firm. He took a case over there that will last about a month.” She bit her lip. “We’ll be fine.”

Frank kissed the inside of her wrist. “I love you.”

“I love you. Now, let’s get you discharged and to the hotel. I need to let Todd know your status and have another trainer join the team for the rest of the trip.”

When Frank and Abby arrived back at LAX, a teary Mary and Scott were waiting for them. Mary ran up to Frank and he scooped her up with his good hand. She cried into his neck, and he tried to sooth her. “Hey Nugget, its ok, I’m ok.”

Mary pulled back and squished his face between her small hands. She pushes his head around, inspecting the cut and his eyes. “Frank, you scared me.” She pushes his lips to make him smile. “You’re smiling.”

“Yeah, I scared me too. But Abby took good care of me.” He flashed a soft smile to Abby before Mary launched herself into Abby.

“Thank you, Abby, for taking care of Frank.”

“Always Nugget. I’ll always take care of my family.” She put Mary down so Frank could take her hand and she turned to Scott. “How bad?”

“She cried until you guys called. It was pretty scary.” Scott huffs. “If he wanted your attention...”

“I did not do it to get her attention,” Frank growled. “If I wanted to get her attention, I would just need to show her my...”

“Franklin!”

Scott snickered as Frank groaned. “Franklin, that’s so lame,” Mary says.

Frank looks at Abby, who blows him a kiss. He shakes his head but returns the gesture as they make it out to the car. Getting home, Frank gets to the couch and leans his head back. “Are you in pain Frankie?”

“A little, Cricket.” He grimaces. “Just feel pressure behind my eyes.”

“Yep, that’s the concussion.” Abby reaches for her bag and takes out a couple of tablets. “Here, let me get you some water.” Scott comes around with a bottle of water and Frank looks at him gratefully. He swallows the medicine and tries to close his eyes. “Baby, if you want to sleep, you should be in your room with the curtains closed. You’ll feel better, promise.”

“Will you lay with me?” he asked pathetically.

“Sure love.” She helps Frank up and into his room. She gets him down and curled up against him. “Better?” He nodded and closed his eyes. “Rest, my love. I’ll be right here.”

The next ten days were calm with Frank still recovering from his concussion. On day 12, he became restless. He woke up with his Cricket in his arms, her butt right up against his pelvis. Christ, her ass is perfect, he thinks. He lets his hand wander down, dipping below her panties. She sighs in her sleep, but Frank wants to wake her up. He pulls her leg over his hip to open her up and lets his fingertips dip into her folds. Fucking wet and warm for him, like always. He slowly sinks a finger in.

“Frankie,” she moans softly. “Baby, your head.”

“It is clear as ever Cricket. Can I have you?” She nods and Frank smiles. He adds a finger and pumps at a steady rhythm. She cries out quietly and he palms her clit. He brings her to the brink and watches as she shatters in his arms.

“Need. More,” she pants.

“Whatever you need Cricket.” Frank pushes her panties down her legs and then pushes his own boxers down, grasping her knee and pulling it back over his hip. He let his tip dance around the remnants of her release before slowly pushing in. She purrs at the stretch, and he gives a low chuckle. “Can you be quiet for me Cricket? Can you be a good girl and be quiet?” He feels her nod against his ear. He pulls back and rocks back into her and he can feel her hum at the sensation. “Good girl. Such a good fucking girl.”

Abby is lost in the sensation of Frank taking her apart slowly. He isn’t rough or fast, just taking his time, making her feel everything. She whimpers at a particularly deep thrust into her womb but she doesn’t cry out. “That's my good Cricket,” he whispers, making her clench around him. “Didn’t realize you have a thing for praise, my love.”

“Frankie,” she whispered. “Don’t be cruel.”

“Never, my love.” He ran a finger down her skin until he met her clit. He rubbed slowly, feeling her build around his cock. “Are you almost there? I know you are, can feel it.”

“Yes,” she gasped. He didn’t stop until she shattered, seeing stars as he pumped in one, two, three and released inside of her with a low groan.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“Not possible.”

“Let’s take a trip.”

Abby looks from her coffee. “What?”

“Let’s go on a trip. Nug has her trip to DC this week, Scott’s heading back to Boston while she’s gone. I can’t stare at these walls anymore Cricket.”

“You’re on injured reserve Frankie, you can’t just take a trip.”

Frank pouts and gives her puppy eyes. “Please?”

“Oh so you think that just giving me eyes and a sweet little please is going to change my mind.” Abby turns back to her computer with a scoff. She misses Frank coming from behind her and sweeping her curls off of her shoulder. He presses sweet kisses to her neck and shoulders, watching her lose her head and tilt back, exposing more of her.

“I can stop, my love, and just go back to the couch.”

“N-no.” She closes her eyes as her hand cups the back of his neck. She can feel his smile against her skin.

“Just a few nights. Please.”

Abby starts to lose control of her gasps. She knows she needs to be quiet but the sensation of his lips on the column of her throat is one of the best she’s ever felt. “Ok,” she whispers as he nips her gently. “Fine, where do you want to go?”

After Mary is dropped off with the school for her trip, Frank heads to the airport to drop Scott off for his flight to Boston. “Have fun Frank,” he said with a wink.

“You too Scott.” He gave him a hug and walked back to his car. As he drove away from LAX, a sign blinked at him and an idea hit him. It was time, he thought to himself. He messaged Abby.

Frank: pack for the heat Abby: Why? Frank: I want to take you somewhere and it will be hot. Abby: I hate being hot. Frank: Humor me Abby: 😑 Fine. Frank: Love you. 😘

Abby packed her suitcase, smiling at the message Frank sent when another popped up

Mike: How’s the road trip? Abby: Fine. Mike: I miss you Abby: You too Mike: I’ll be home in a week. Abby: Ok, I’ll be home

“Fuck,” she muttered. She hated that she hadn’t had the nerve to just break it off yet. She was just scared of Mike’s reaction. Abby wasn’t normally a confrontational person. The last time she was hostile, well, she lost Frank. The memory made her sad. When she heard the door open, she shook it off and closed her case.

“Hey Cricket. All set?” Frank’s excitement was in the air.

“Yeah baby, I’m all set.” Abby smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Gonna tell me where we are going?”

He kissed her nose. “Nope. Let’s go.” He grabbed her bag and his and headed to his Camero.

“I can’t believe you still have this car.”

“I can’t believe you would think that I got rid of it.” Frank started the car and headed out. “This is my prize for getting drafted.”

“And here I thought that was me,” she replied without a thought. Frank smile dropped a little. He swallowed, wondering if this road trip idea was smart. He stayed silent, thinking about all the details and hoped that she would listen.

A few hours later, Abby’s face was in disbelief. Frank had taken them to Las Vegas. She didn’t know what to say. Why would he bring them to the very place that had broken them? Having never been to the city herself, she was awestruck at the lights and sounds. Frank pulled into a fancy one, the Bellagio and had the valet take their car and bags. He held her hand as they walked into the lobby. Abby gasped as she took in the glass flower ceiling. “Wow.”

“It is beautiful,” Frank commented. “When the team had come out here and we were walking around, I remember thinking that you would have loved this.”

“Is this... is there where...”

“No Cricket. I will never go back to that particular hotel ever again.” Frank checked them in and a hotel concierge walked them to their room. “This is one of our high roller suites, sir. If you need anything just call the desk and someone will be right up.”

“Thank you.” Frank tipped the man as Abby took in the room. It faced out to the strip and she could see the other hotels. Suddenly, what sounded like a cannon blasted water up in the air and the fountain began to dance.

“The fountain,” she squealed as Frank chuckled. She could faintly hear the remnants of a Frank Sinatra in the air as the towers of water began to dance. When it ended, Abby clapped. “That was amazing.”

“It says here that it happens every half hour to a new song until midnight so we can watch it again if you like Cricket.” Frank loved watching her as she enjoyed the show. It was something he remembered from that awful October, wishing he could have shared it with her then. “C’mon baby, let me feed you and we can take a walk.”

After a delicious meal, Frank and Abby walked hand in hand on the crowded streets. They pointed at the different signs, different characters that were walking the strip, laughing, and enjoying being just Frank and Abby. As they approached one hotel, Frank’s palms began to sweat. “Frankie?”

“Can I tell you a story? It doesn’t have a happy ending but maybe we can rewrite it.” Frank looked to his feet.

“You can talk to me about anything, love.” Abby cupped his cheek. “Take your time.”

Frank swallowed. “About five years ago, I won the big game for my team, and we came here to celebrate. I really didn’t want to because I had my amazing girlfriend and my darling little niece at home, but I didn’t want to come off as a bad team player. My best friend came with me, and we lived it up. Our captain had gotten us a couple of tables at a club, and we had fun.” Frank sighed and pointed to the club in front of the MGM. “See that sign? Its for the club we went to. This is the hotel we were staying at. Anyways, we partied and went back to the suite where some of us had been staying at.”

“Alone?” She asked, quietly.

“Me, yes. Some women approached me that night, but I refused. I wasn’t drinking as much as the rest of the guys from what I can remember. Anyways, some of the guys had brought girls back with us and the hotel had set up a bar for us to drink from. There was a pool off the balcony of the room and the girls were getting in with just their underwear. I was uncomfortable. I said that to Mike. The last thing I remember clearly was him handing me a glass of scotch. He said, ‘Adler, you earned this.’ You’re a good man to Abby and a wonderful father to Mary. Just relax and enjoy.’”

“Mike handed you that drink?”

“That’s the last one I remember. When I woke up, I was in a room, not mine. My head was splitting, and I was dehydrated. I made it to the bathroom and when I looked back, I saw the blonde. I yelled at her, asking her what the fuck she was doing in my room. She panicked and said she didn’t remember coming in there with me. Mike rushed in and told her to get out while checking over with me. I asked him what I had done, and he said, I swear, he said that I got drunk, and I couldn’t make it to my room so he put me in his.”

Abby closed her eyes. “Why would Mike lie? He had no reason to.”

“Abby, I love how you are so trusting but Mike has had it bad for you since high school. But he knew I liked you and was working up the nerve to tell you for years. But back to the story. I called Steve and asked what I should do. He was here as well with another client. He asked me to stop the girl and ask her for the truth. I did manage to stop her, ask her and promise not to go to the press. I would pay anything for it not to go to press. I needed to tell you first. Steve showed up and got an NDA in place. He talked to her and she confirmed, nothing happened.”

“But then the pictures came out.”

“Then the pictures came out. I was so angry that someone, who knows who, they violated my privacy, my trust. I was desperately trying to get to you first but by the time I landed, it was too late. You didn’t let me explain and I lost you.”

“Oh Frankie,” she cried as she pressed herself into his chest.

“I’m so sorry Cricket. I should have called, I should have done something else to stop this from happening. I lost five years with you when a simple phone call would have solved everything. I am so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too Frankie, I should have just taken a moment to listen to you. When I got those texts of those photos...”

Frank pulled back. “What texts?”

“I got an anonymous text with the photos and an audio of you just says, “I can’t tell Abby,” I thought, well I thought it was more common.”

“You don’t know who sent it.” She shook her head. “Fuck, I don’t, I don’t even know what to say. I was always going to tell you but I didn’t want to do it by phone.” He pulled her back into his arms and held her tight. “I love you Cricket. I never stopped.” He kissed the top of her head as they held each other.

Abby sighed after a while. “Take me to bed?”

Frank didn’t answer, just turned away from the hotel that ruined his life and started back to the fountain. As they walked, Abby spotted something and stopped. “Cricket?”

She pointed at the building. “We could make better memories.”

Frank stared at the building and back at his girl.

Taglist:

@patzammit @texmexdarling @slutforchrisjamalevans @firephotogrl74 @before-we-get-started @jennmurawski13-writes @tinkerbelle67 @bunnyforhim

#andy's hea #andy's shenanigans #chris evans fanfiction #frank adler #frank adler au #mlb au #dodger au #ofc abigail hernandez #sliding into home #chris evans #mike weiss #johnny storm #baseball au #frank adler smut #slow burn #chris evans au #cliffhanger queen

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tommyssupercoolblog · 7 months ago

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Writing Pattern Tag Game

@bootlegfrank tagged me and @septiccoffeefreak - who shares this post w me because we're writing partners >:3 (frank tagged us indirectly. and then directly because i responded saying i was gonna do it. so in-indirect-diretly(??))

Rules: list the first lines(s) of your last 10 fics and see if there's a pattern. I also said where each one is from in case u don't wanna scroll through our ao3 and do the math urself!!!

all these fics except one r RPF, sooo BE WARNED. i'm putting everything under da cut, and i'm also putting my reblog banner since fanfiction!!! is!!! art!!!

Seán’s about ready to burn his entire calendar.

from "Scheduling Conflicts and How To Cope - A Guide For The Busy Homosexual"

Tommy hates LA with every fiber of his being.

from "City Of Angels"

it's cold, and it hurts.

from "The Part Where it Gets Better (Lads rescue AU)", and also THIS SOUNDS SO WEIRD OUT OF CONTEXT LIKE WHAT'S COLD??? it's water. the water is cold. this is the character based one btw. WE FOUND IT, THE NON-RPF!!!

Tommy inspects Seán’s behelit tattoo carefully, running his thumb over it a little, then kisses it.

I fucking would. kissing all his tattoos right now. mwah. this goddamn MOOD is from "There's No Place Like Home"

Ethan N3st0r was not expecting Seán to still be awake at three AM, even though with jet lag considered, he really fuckin should have.

I censored the name for search but it's not like that in the fic, that's just for tumblr. anyway, from "Three Drabbles In Which Tommy and Seán are bad at Keeping Secrets"

Ethan's the one to bring it up first, on Brain Leak, of all things.

OPENING WITH ETHAN AGAIN LMAOO. this is from "And Suddenly, It Makes Sense."

"So, who would have thought, huh? T0mmy1nn1t and Jacks3pt1c3y3, famous YouTubers, passed away in their sleep on the same night."

censored for tumblr again. from "Count your Soulmates- There's only one."

Seán and Tommy have sleepovers sometimes.

from "kissing practice". very original opening line /sar /lh (also tbh i feel awful about em being evil in this one :( I know its fanfic and i can do whatever I want but like. idk. i'm not accusing em of being mean IRL okay??? OKAY))

Seán spends about fifteen minutes pacing and staring at himself in the mirror, doing breathing exercises his therapist taught him and trying not to rub or scratch his wrists too much.

from "Puppy Love", the closest we've ever gotten to full misce posting on main

They were gluing ducks to a jeep the first time it happened.

FROM "PETNAMES" AND ALSO THE BEST OPENING LINE EVER

INTERPRETATION TIME!!!!

soooo yeah!!! we like to jump right into action as well but I think it's safe to say our autistic ass habits of giving exposition for everything lead to the specific outcome of starting in the middle of a scene, WITH an explanation of the scene. like we're already in the middle of something going on but also sometimes it's exposition at the same time somehow?? or like right after these first lines. idk maybe that's just me????

the way it's usually less (character does this) and more (character does this BECAUSE ____ // character is doing this and FEELING ____) feels like it's trying to give context, to me. but again idk maybe just me

TIME FOR SEÁN'S READING:

@septiccoffeefreak - "What I'm noticing here is more along the lines of just, how we almost always seem to open with a person. Usually by their actual name(s) too and not just a pronoun. I understand what you mean, Tommy, but I don't personally get that vibe? You could totally be right, of course, I just don't pick up on that. I defenitely notice, though, just how many of these are sentences where the literal first word is a name. the two exceptions to that are the pronoun "they" (which is still a person- or two people actually), and then water.

I guess the dialogue could also be considered an exception, but I don't think it counts since it also directly references us as characters.

and that's not something you necessarily have to do. You could open describing scenery or objects, or with dialogue that DOESN'T have the names of the characters in it- you could open with wind through a blade of grass or a character cursing under their breath or someone's cellphone crashing to the pavement or something. So it's definitely an "us" thing, it's a quirk of our writing style and not just normal writing. I don't know if like, we ALWAYS do this, but I do know that in these ten fics you pulled we do. I wouldn't be surprised if we did it like literally all the time as well, but I'm not going to pretend to know every first line we've ever penned to paper. or...print?? I don't fucking know, here, I'm just analyzing sentences on the internet for a tagging project.

Sorry if this ramble is kind of long, I hope it's at least interesting though??? sort of interesting? kind of interesting, in it's own way, hopefully. at least mildly, like a video you didn't turn on but aren't really reaching for the mouse/remote on to change it. You know?? Yeah. Like that. Or more interesting then that, hopefully. Thanks for uh, reading or, whatever, listening if you have a screen reader i guess, I'm getting nervous and it's very obvious because i'm rambling so I'm gonna hand things back off to the birthday boy, Toms. wish Tommo a happy birthday or I swear to fucking god your liver will be missing in the morning and you'll find it at the bottom of your morning cup of coffee."

back to me:

LMAO

wow omg i love my babygirl,,,, that made me laugh >:p

ANYWAYS. i didn't notice that!! oh em gee,,,,, name moment.

YOU SHOULD DO THIS TOO AND SEE IF YOUUUU SEE ANYTHING!!!!!

I'M TAGGING @kalcifers-blog AND.... no one else because all my other mutuals who i know for a fact write have paused as far as i'm aware, bc they're into mcyt RPF like I am and the w1lbvr situation put them on hiatus. and i don't know if any of them are back to feeling up to writing stuff.

I don't write about w1bvr ever and didn't watch him so I wasn't that affected but a lot of people were even if they just watched so like... Kalcie ur alone on here i'm SO SORRIE. ALSO this is /nf so u don't have to if u dont want to :p :3 >:D :000 >:PPPP :000 >:00

#i made a textpost #tommy's og art wow #fanfic #rpf fanfiction #rpf #fanfic rpf #rpf fanfic #fanfiction rpf #tagging game #tag game #tag chain #writting pattern tag game #septicinnit #literally all of these RPF fics. are septicinnit

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