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multifariousqueer · 11 months

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Ok here’s my request and it’s not smut so don’t worry lol.

What if like Yn tried sneaking into Mike’s room with some good news or smth and she catches him doing the deed with another girl so she decides to leave and then he’s blowing up her phone but she cuts him off. Idk just angst angst and more angst lol

Ofc love!!!

A/n: It’s good to be back writing fluff, hopefully no one has an issue with this but if they do, oh well🤷🏽‍♀️. As always, feel free to request, just know if it’s a smut req, it’s gonna be written on AO3. Speaking of Ao3, follow it, its in my bio ❤️

Warnings: Cheating, suggestivness, language, reader being a boss as bitch and cutting Miles off, angst, brief mentions of vomit, breaking in, toxicity

“Congratulations, Y/n L/n you were admitted into (your dream college). We look forward to seeing you in the fall!” the admissions letter read

It felt like you were working towards this your whole life; your parents sacrificed everything to send you to a great school like Visions and they spent a ton of money investing into your future. To be honest, it seemed like a fever dream at first; you had wanted to go here since you were 11 and you were making your younger self so proud

You decided to call Miles and tell him the good news. Your parents were already informed and they were throwing you a party that weekend and you had told your friends, the only thing left to do was to tell the man you loved most in the entire world and his family that took care of you like their own.

You tried calling but it went straight to voicemail. This was unlike Miles because he never left you on delivered and he never declined your calls, even when he was doing Spiderman stuff. You decided to take a short walk over to his dorm to see if he was okay, since if he wasn’t home, Ganke was and you could just ask him where Miles was. So, you grabbed the letter, your phone and your bag and walked the 10 minute walk over to his dorm.

When you reached his dorm, you heard moaning and it sounded like the bed was hitting the wall. Your heart dropped to your stomach and tears welled in your eyes.

“no. It can’t be, Miles would never” you tried to reason with yourself

You knocked on the door and you immediately heard an “oh shit” come from the room, followed by shuffling. You begged and pleaded with God that this was all a mistake, a dream gone wrong, something other than what it was.

When no one answered for a second, you opened the door with the spare Miles gave you and you saw him on top of another girl. The girl was blonde, blue eyes, tallish, had an eyebrow piercing and looked like she could dog walk your ex-boyfriend

“m-Miles?” you questioned

“Y/n, It’s not what it looks like; I promise” He said frantically, trying to come towards you as you backed into the door

You felt sick to your stomach; it felt like someone dropped a two ton weight on your chest and crushed your heart. Miles and you shared some of the best and worst moments of your lives together and you never in a million years, thought that he would cheat on you. His mother raised him better than this and in that moment, you considered calling her to tell her what a whore she raised. You ran out of the room and to a trash can where you vomited, your stomach emptying all of it’s contents and hopefully, all of the memories you shared

“OMG ARE YOU OKAY?” Miles questioned

“GET AWAY FROM ME” You said, running away

He quickly webbed you in an attempt to explain but you weren’t having it

“How could you do this to me?” you kept whispering as he pulled you close and attempted to kiss your forehead and hug you

“I-I don’t know, it just happened. I still love you, Y/n I’m so sorry” Miles said, tears pouring through his eyes

You stood there motionless, numb and with tears glossing over your cheeks. This moment didn’t feel real, it felt like someone took you out of your body and Miles was hugging your shell.

He let you go but not before you looked in his eyes and said:

“I’ve been there for you for four years. I have been your girlfriend, engineer, friend, and in some cases, your mom. I feel so sorry that a beautiful soul like her could raise a poor excuse of a son like you. Don’t call me, text me or do anything to me. You just lost the only person who truly cared about you”

Miles just looked at you with rage and sadness in his eyes. His mouth was slightly agape but you just shoved your letter in his chest and stormed off.

You told your entire family, friend group and Miles’ parents about the affair and they all took your side. Miles’ mom was especially hurt, seeing as she saw you as a surrogate daughter

“Dios mío, Mija. I’m so sorry, from all of us No sé dónde me equivoqué(I don’t know where I went wrong)” She said, offering you a hug and a kiss on the cheek

“Gracias, Mama Rio but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. He made that choice to sleep with her and he has to live with the fact that he lost me forever” you spoke into her chest

“Si, si. I know it hurts but you’ll find someone one million times better than him, prometo” she said

“Thank you so much for understanding. I’ll still come over and participate in family functions if you’d like.” you spoke, even though your relationship with Miles was gone, you still valued your relationship with his mother

“Of course, mija. You’ll always have a home here” she said warmly

She wiped your tears and you headed for the door where you saw Miles. It had only been three days but he still looked disheveled, sad and had bags big enough to carry a gallon of milk under his eyes.

“Y/n, please listen-“ he started

You put in your headphones as you walked away, heading for the subway and fetching a taxi. Your friends already knew and were waiting for you in your dorm with chick flicks and food

“Heyy, we heard about the news. We’re so sorry, and we are here if you need anything” your roommate(your best friend) said

“Yeah” they all agreed

This time, the tears in your eyes were from the support you were getting, you smiled and sat down as they gave you your pajamas and slept over

The next week was a blur of you going to classes, Miles trying to speak to you, your friends talking about how shitty he was and people sending their condolences. You guys were the one couple people thought would never break up so this came as a shock to everyone. The Morales family send flowers(paid for with Miles’ allowance) and food, your family offered to come get you one million times, your friends comforting you in any way possible and even your teachers being a bit more lenient with you.

Miles was a train wreck on the other hand, he was broke, sad, and alone. Miles barely showed up for classes and when he did, he looked awful and stank. Where a clean, soft, sweet boy had once been; he was replaced by a crumb bumb who couldn’t keep his grades, friends or family afloat. The only person there for him was the girl he cheated with and he didn’t even want her anymore. He craved your sweet scent, your infectious laugh, your cooking, your kindness and your intelligence and so much more. Everything reminded him of you and it was killing him, even Ganke stopped talking to him.

People whispered in the halls as you two would walk through and even in the classes you had together. You had moved your seat away from him and your teachers were gracious in granting your request.

It was now nearing Summer and you were grabbing your things, smiling and getting ready to leave to your dream school. You had given Miles’ stuff back(lead to him begging for you back but you just left), erased any pictures of y’all together, said goodbye to his family and had wiped your hands clean of him. You began to feel like yourself again; you changed your hair, clothes, makeup and hangout spots(you avoided any graffiti clad buildings because you knew Miles would frequent there), you even went on a few dates

Most of them were a bust until you met one, his name was Thomas and he was nice and he was good looking. Where Miles and you differed, you and Tom came together. You shared common interests and you felt happy for the first time in a while. It began to feel like you had your groove back and you were a whole new person

It was a gorgeous summer day, the sun was shining and the birds were chirping; you had just gotten back from a cafe date with Thomas where you talked about nothing but everything at the same time, he offered to walk you home and gave you his sweater. You held his hand as you reached your apartment.

“wanna come inside?” you had asked for the first time

“yeah, sure. Only if you’re okay with it, I mean-“ he stammered

“I’m fine with it.” you smiled

You lead him to your apartment and kicked off your shoes.

“Hey, where’s your bathroom?” Thomas asked

“It’s right down the hall” you called, grabbing the remote and lighting a candle

“Okay, thanks babe” he called

“Hey who are- AHHH” Thomas screamed

“THOMAS. THOMAS?? OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?” you asked, running to the bathroom where you saw Thomas webbed to a wall with a figure standing in front of him

“Miles?” you asked in disbelief

“Hola, Mami” he smirked

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales headcannons #miles morales #miles x reader #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman #across the spiderverse spoilers #into the spider verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanart #spiderverse #marvel #foryou

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 year

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This is a crack post. Read until the end. Karen Wheeler noticed that Steve matured quite a bit when she saw him after his 20th birthday, and she just divorced Ted. Imagine Nancy coming home one weekend from college, not knowing what day it was, and hoping her mother would do her laundry when she finds Steve in bed with her mother.

"Steve?! What the hell are you doing?" Nancy exclaimed, horrified.

"Your mother, apparently," Steve said, and Karen. "We wanted to give her a happy Mother's Day."

"It's Mother's Day?" Nancy asked.

"Not until Sunday, but we're celebrating early," Eddie said, coming out of the bathroom. "Isn't that right, mommy?"

Nancy screamed and stormed out of the room.

"You're right, that was funny," Karen laughed.

"Serves her right," Steve scowled as he was about to get out of bed. "Mother's Day was a couple of weeks ago."

"And you boys were so sweet, delivering flowers to all the mothers in the Party,' Karen said, and then they heard Mike coming in. "Mike's home. Eddie, dear, can you go back in the bathroom again?"

"Damn, he forgot, too?" Eddie asked. "Maybe we should tell him that we made you a mommy again."

"We don't want to kill him," Karen laughed, and Eddie went back into the bathroom.

"Oh my God, Mom!"

Yeah, it was all a joke.

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #karen wheeler

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0daylighthours0 · 21 days

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My Mother's Unbiased Byler + Milkvan Opinions - Viewing ST for the 1st Time!

(UPDATE)

My Mama has now witnessed Stranger Things in its entirety. Her favourite season was the third, her favourite characters Hopper and Joyce, her favourite pairing would be those guys too, and her most disliked pairing? Can only assume.

I wanted to write out her thoughts on the second to last episode previously, as she'd held many, but before I knew it we'd finished the whole show and I was forced to an income of NEW opinions which ruled out my memory of any old ones. Shucks. But boy did this lady have much to say. The only way I can break it down is by providing a sample of quotes she'd delivered, in order, a day after having finished the series.

All are just things she said about milkvan and byler, as they're this post's main focus. There's simply much to say about these relationships too, being so up in the air over where they ought be expected to turn out. These are all direct quotes too (as I typed as she talked, unkown to her) so you'll have to excuse the natural way in which some lines come off as unfocused, being written after real time conversations. Let's get into it:

Ok I really don't know whether she likes Mike very much. She actively disliked the guy earlier on, and now her feelings appear to be more mixed. A lot of her discussion was solely around this guy's actions.

"It's almost like he's [Mike] forcing himself like- ok Hopper he was kind of very passionate and kissing, you know he sort of instantly- with Mike, from being obsessed and spending so much time with her [El], suddenly he starts cooling off more and more and suddenly- they even separated right? I mean yeah that was out of his control but he, but he didn't really seem like he missed her you know it's like he just got on with it."

This point caught me off guard. I don't know how much I agree with my mother on this. It made me realize that during Mike and El's separation, there weren't many quiet Mike moments in which he expressed worry for her, beyond a couple that blend into him simply having breakup concerns. Any time Mike mentions distress for her whilst she's away, his talk evolves into him simply anxious over the state of their relationship. As a group, everyone in our Cali gang clearly wanted to save Eleven, but Mike really should have gotten more heartfelt moments in solitude (that means without Will you suffer bros) in which it is demonstrated to the audience that he really does miss her, as someone who is in love. Her being away shouldn't simply come off as a writing excuse for him to vent to Will. There wasn't enough of that tenderness milkvan desperately needs, and if anything I watched was an attempt then it really wasn't translated well - never trumping everyone else's familial or close frienship-like fret for El, never showcasing his concern to come from a more personal place. I mean how hard is it to have him in her room, staring longingly at a photo of hers, with a background composed of soft music. Then literally leaving it at that. I mean that is it. No Will rushing in there to insist, "you can tell her that thing when you see her k? It'll all work out trust me ight, you're the heart you're the HEART!" que affectionate gazes, constructs a byler scene for no reason I guess .

"I mean how do we know that he missed Will? He articulated it. Why didn't he articulate this the same way to El?"

True. I mean the fact that I can't remember a moment after they find El in which milkvan ask oneanother how they are, and communicate how much they missed eachother, does indeed say something. They shared a hug and touch when they first reunited, which was gladly interrupted by Will. That pineapple + pizza thing was not long enough, or sensitive enough, to be their moment. There was clear bonding, but it didn't breach a level of romance and chemistry nearly decently. It's good that they got at least that, I mean we need to know that these guys are at LEAST really close friends. And then the camera just felt like panning over to Will about to burst into tears in a corner. Like huh? Bruv you've now made it so that milkvan's pizza bit leaves a bad taste in our mouths. If I were a milkvan I'd be furious.

"You know what, I think it's done purposefully to create that sort of cold, distant, confused, you know they wanted to make people say he's [Mike] bisexual. For people to question. They want to get people to think that."

My Mama believes writers intentionally soured milkvan for viewers to "confuse" audiences, build up anticipation, make them question milkvan's relationship and wonder if our main man will spin to Will. I agree. They want that good ol' triangle comeuppance.

"They really are trying to bring that across- so that people start thinking Mike, you know he doesn't love El, he loves Will. They're really trying to, make people think that. Giving them [milkvan] a really nitty gritty relationship."

Yup.

"When you're gay. Coming out like that it's- it's terrifying. You have to be very careful. And Will could, he could tell. You know when someone is attracted to you. I think, things became sort of- sort of complicated. And Will sensed, he could feel that Mike is attracted to him. And that's why he could open up like that. Because you can always tell. You know, you just know, so that's why Will was able to confess these things to him [she sees painting scene as a confession, whether Mike realized it or not, and so do I]."

Well damn Mama. And there you have it folks. My.. I'm not gonna call her the h word but.. my- notabigfanofgaythingsandwouldbehappytopretendtheydon'texist mother, perceives Mike as a homosexual kid, and just that. Well bloomin heck that's all the confirmation I need.

I didn't expect this as a turnout, I mean so particularly. My Mama actually didn't like byler - I think. Well. Bloomin heck. She actually enjoyed Vickie x Robin, and this shocked me to my core. I don't know whether this is simply due to her being a fan of Vickie's actress (recognizing her from Anne With an 'E'), but I do know that my mother has a bias in gay relationships and sees ones involving females as more "pure" than that of two males. So her language when describing Will has changed since her realization that he loves Mike for sure (which became undeniable in the van scene). She describes him as being 'obsessed' with Mike, and says writers really wanted to get that obsession across. I agree with Will having been one note during season 4, him hopefully having more time to shine in the approaching season, but I thoroughly disagree with him coming off as obsessive. I suppose our camera man displayed the guy's little glances at Mike so often that my Mama felt it was overdone, and unable to be ignored. I also think she's just avoiding use of the word 'love' when describing anything homosexual.

She still doesn't think Mike demonstrates how much he loves El enough to leave no room for debate. According to her, his moments with her seem surface level. Just as a reminder she does not know my thoughts. She watched that entire 'I love you' thing and still isn't secure in any genuineness of the guy. I believe she supposes that we're intended to acknowledge milkvan's romance, but also probe it.

I now wonder whether my Mama was good enough representation for the average audience, because she actually does own a bias - this being that she usually actively dislikes gay things. So I puzzle over whether her brain overanalyzed any of the boys' highlights, wanting to "expose" their homo intentions. At first things were up in the air, but it became clear that Mike did not pass her gaydar, he was simply too intimate with Will to make that pass. And this wasn't the case in other seasons, she never questioned their friendship til now. She also hasn't acknowledged any supposedly queer relationships besides rickie (vobin?) and byler, meaning that other fan favourites such as elmax, steddie, ronance and such else didn't stand out as gay to her. This doesn't signify those other relationships to not have a chance, I'm elmax's personal cheersquad, it's plainly clear that my mother didn't have a tendency to point at every same sex relationship and yell suspicious. Byler was purely undeniable. You can thank Will's love being canoned for this, otherwise noone would have a need to read into Mike.

I don't know whether she supposes byler to have a chance moreso than the milk in the van, even with Mike's ambiguity. It would seem that as of right now her guess is that watchers are intended to second guess both relationships in order to build up interest. However, she doesn't know how unlikely Will's love life is to turn out negatively seeing as those damn writers manipulated crowds into consistently sympathizing for him. Dunno about the rest of you but that sounds like good news to me.

I have no idea how to close this analysis. Is it an analysis? There's much more I want to say, much more she said, but I fear this to be too jam-packed and aimless as is. I'm writing a third part to my most recent milkthevan failing relationship deep dive, and that'll possibly consist of thoughts I wish to input after gathering so much data from my mother.

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strangersatellites · 1 year

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happy valentine’s day steddie nation! have some lumax & steddie shenanigans as a treat! i love you all! 🫶🏼

February 11th, 1987

It’s not that she’s particularly interested in watching E.T. again. It's more so the fact that the back of the VHS box has enough words that she can pretend to read it for an extended period of time without looking suspicious.

See, Max is a planner. She plans. Plots might actually be a better word. Perhaps even schemes.

Whatever. She plans.

When the time is right, she executes.

Luckily, Lucas is good for two (2) things.

Anything and everything Max asks of him

Causing problems on purpose

That’s how she finds herself here. Pretending to read the back of a movie she’s seen at least ten times while she acts like she’s not able to hear the conversation happening at the Family Video counter.

“Oh come on! It’s for Valentine’s Day!”

Steve stops whatever he’s trying to do on the tv and props a hand on his hip while he levels Lucas with a look.

“What makes you think I don’t have plans already, Sinclair? Huh? I could have my own date to plan for all you know.”

Lucas snorts. “Yeah, right. Please, Steve? I already told Max you said yes so she’s expecting it to be a whole thing! I’ll ask Eddie to drop us off and everything! Plus, my mom said we can only have a date if you chaperone and no offense, but I’m not taking you to a restaurant.”

“Well maybe we need to practice honesty in our relationships,” Steve says, pointing the tv remote at him. “You’re lucky Max is my favorite, or else you would’ve been in deep shit. Now what did you tell her I was cooking?”

Max has to hide a giggle behind the horror movie display at the way Lucas visibly sags in relief. He throws her a wink when Steve turns back to the screen.

*****

February 12th, 1987

Finding the money is easy.

It’s not Max’s fault Eddie is an absolute idiot and leaves his wallet in his unlocked van during Hellfire.

The man is just asking to be a victim of petty theft.

Plus, she doubts he even pays enough attention to the amount of money he has in there anyway. He probably won’t even know it's gone.

Picking the flowers out wasn’t difficult either.

Steve’s favorite flowers are tulips, and under any other circumstances they would be the obvious choice. But everyone knows a dozen red roses means true love.

And it's Valentine’s Day. Come on.

The florist had watched the pair look at all the flowers with a twinkle in her eye. No doubt she thought Lucas was buying them for Max.

Gross.

Convincing her that they needed them delivered to Family Video on Valentine’s Day was a little trickier.

“No they’re not for me, ew.” and “They’re for a friend.” and “Yes, we know it's last minute.”

But arguably the most difficult part had been choosing what to put on the card.

They’re sitting on the sidewalk outside the arcade writing and crossing out and writing again while everyone else is inside.

“Lucas, are you kidding me? We can’t just say Happy Valentine’s Day. That’s so lame.”

He throws his hands up in an exasperated gesture. “Well what else? We can’t be all ‘roses are red, violets are blue, I’m a big dumb idiot who won’t make a move.’”

Max snorts a laugh and gives him a conspiratory smile before she starts writing on the back of a receipt.

“No. But you know what we can do?”

*****

February 13th, 1987

“I don’t know… this feels a little risky.”

Max swats at Lucas’s bicep and glares.

“Just trust me. All we have to do is get Eddie there and his own desperate need to be nosy will do the rest.”

Lucas takes a deep breath in and accepts his fate. “If this doesn’t work it's your fault.”

She just rolls her eyes and shoves him up and off the couch.

They’re in the Wheeler’s basement finishing up yesterday’s campaign so they can all have Valentine’s day to do their own thing. Eddie called for a ten minute break after Mike and Dustin had to very nearly be physically held back during an argument about what move they should make next.

He’s propped on the arm of his chair and writing something in a little notebook when Lucas approaches.

“Uh hey, Eddie? Can I ask you something?”

The older boy raises his eyes up to meet Lucas’s and squints at him.

“Roll for charisma.”

Now it's Lucas’s turn to roll his eyes. “Are you serious?”

Eddie breaks into a bright smile and settles into his seat with a laugh. “Nah, man. What’s up, Sinclair?”

“Are you busy tomorrow? Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day I mean?”

Eddie’s brows furrow and he tilts his head a bit. “No way, dude. I’ll be sitting at home with a movie and a bowl of Wayne’s spaghetti if the past is any indication of how my day will play out. Besides, you know how I feel about all that shit.”

Max squints from her place on the couch braiding El’s hair. She does know how he feels about all that shit. She heard him telling Robin alllllllll about how he wanted to have a real Valentine’s Day date one day.

She’s grateful at this moment that he’s publicly sticking to his guns. No “forced conformity” in sight.

That would’ve ruined the plan.

“Perfect!” Lucas claps.

Max cringes but he recovers.

“Uh, I mean– I mean that’s perfect for me then! I was going to ask if you could come pick me up from Steve’s tomorrow. He told me he’d let me go through his closet and pick out something to wear.” He looks down and picks at a string on his jacket and Max has to hand it to him. His acting skills are pretty impressive. “I’m taking Max on a real date tomorrow.”

Eddie’s face softens and he cuts the shit with his false bravado almost instantly.

“That’s sweet, man. But why can’t Harrington drive you to Max’s exactly?”

And shit.

Max didn’t think Eddie would question him. Not with the way he drives them places all the time.

Then again so does Steve. So maybe that was a bit of an oversight.

But Lucas takes it in stride. “Oh he said something about cooking for his own date when I leave.”

Max might be a bit more worried about Lucas’s ability to lie off the cuff if she weren’t so impressed.

Eddie just nods. “Sure, kiddo. I’ll be there at 7 o’clock sharp.”

Easy.

Now they wait.

*****

February 14th, 1987

Max is sitting on the counter swinging her feet while Steve and Robin bicker back and forth about what order the new display movies should go in.

It’s ten minutes before six and she’s starting to get nervous.

Her inner monologue is screaming, “I knew she would forget to deliver them.”

Just about the time she’s going to ask to use Keith’s phone to call Lucas, the florist van pulls up.

Steve furrows his brow and looks at Robin. She just raises her shoulders and shakes her head. He opens the door and leans against it.

A young girl hops out of the passenger seat with the prettiest bouquet of red roses Max has ever seen. She has to bite back her own smile.

“Hi!” The girl greets while rustling through the leaves to find the card. “Delivery for uh– Stevie?”

Robin snorts and slaps a hand over her mouth.

Steve runs a hand through his hair and stutters out a “I’ll just get those. Yeah– yeah thanks. Have a good one,” and comes back inside.

Max puts on her game face when he puts them on the counter and steps back with his hands on his hips.

Robin has propped her chin in her hands and is looking on with barely concealed glee.

Max levels him with a bored look. “So… What does the card say?”

He reaches for the card and reads it quietly to himself. If Max isn’t mistaken, his cheeks are dusted with a pink flush.

He smiles and laughs. “They’re from Eds.”

Eds? Gross.

“Dear Stevie, something happened and I'm head over heels. Happy Valentine’s Day. Love, Eddie.”

Robin mimes being struck by Cupid and Steve giggles at her antics and thumbs over the petals of one of the flowers with a soft smile.

Before Max can unpack that, the door bursts open so hard the bell swings into the glass with a clang.

Steve’s head snaps to the door with a “LUCAS!” already ringing out through the store.

He holds his hands up in a placating gesture and catches his breath.

“Sorry! Sorry! Max, you ready to go?”

And, oh. Right.

She hops off the counter and grabs her bag. Spins around to Robin and Steve with a smile.

She leans in to whisper, “We’re going somewhere on a date tonight. He thinks I don’t know.”

Robin bites back another smile and salutes Lucas while Steve laughs under his breath and grabs his own keys and the vase off the counter.

��Have fun kiddos! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Robin calls out as they take off out the door.

*****

As riveting as the idea of hiding in a bush and watching Steve cook and sing to himself for an hour sounds, in practice it is painfully boring.

“Seriously? We couldn’t have just gone to the arcade until 7 o’clock?” Lucas angry-whispers.

Max adjusts her elbows on her knees so her binoculars are steadier.

“No. We need to be here to make sure everything goes to plan.”

Lucas groans and Max gives him an aggressive shush.

“Steve already liked the flowers and he double checked with me yesterday that you still wanted his homemade pizza. Literally all Eddie has to do is show up and take the bait.”

Now it’s Max who’s groaning. “Ugh, I don’t know, okay! But it's like five minutes ‘til seven anyway so it doesn’t matter.”

It’s just when they see Steve set the plates on either side of the bouquet on the table that they hear the sound of Eddie’s van turning into the driveway.

They both inhale sharply and duck further behind the bushes.

When Eddie climbs out he looks… nice.

Nice for Eddie at least.

There’s no chains, no dirty sneakers. Instead there’s a black button up and his nice boots. He’s got his hair half pulled up and all of his earrings in.

Max and Lucas share a bewildered look. Surely he didn’t lie about not having plans tonight, right?

Realistically the two know they’re too far away to hear or be heard but that doesn’t stop them from holding their breath as Eddie knocks on the door.

Steve opens it with a towel slung over his shoulder. He’s dressed the part too. Dark jeans and a dark red sweater, looking exactly like a parent chaperoning a kid’s date.

His smile is bright as he opens the door and gestures for Eddie to come inside.

They stand beside the foyer window and chat while the two look on through binoculars with bated breath.

“Surely Eddie’s noticed I’m not there by now, right?” Lucas questions.

Max hums and nods. “Yeah and I’m guessing that Steve has realized Eddie isn’t dropping us off either.”

The two boys throw their heads back in what they can only assume to be hearty laughter from their lack of sound. Steve nods his head towards the kitchen and Eddie gestures for him to lead the way.

“It worked! Max! It actually worked! He’s staying!”

Steve pulls out Eddie’s chair and lights the candles; dims the lights, and takes his own seat.

Max just laughs. “Of course it worked. They’ve been into each other for months! They’re both just too stupid to notice it without a little push!”

They look on in silence as Steve has magically procured a bottle of wine and two glasses and is filling them while they talk.

Lucas smiles and nudges Max with his shoulder. “Dude. Best Valentine’s Day ever.”

She smiles back and punches his arm. “Yeah. Best one ever.”

*****

Meanwhile in the Harrington House

“So, should we tell them?”

Eddie snorts. “Tell them what? That we knew they were trying to set us up or that we’ve been together for four months?”

Now it’s Steve who’s laughing. “I was thinking more about the fact that we can see them in the bushes.”

“Nah. I want to keep that one until I need to sandbag them for something.”

Steve shakes his head and looks at the table.

Eddie grabs his hand and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Hey.”

Steve looks up and meets his eyes, gets a little lost in the way they sparkle in the candlelight.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.”

He lifts Eddie’s hand and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles, the new devil ring Steve gave him before he left this morning.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Eds.”

Maybe if Max and Lucas had looked a little closer, they would have noticed that the plates on the table didn’t have homemade pizza, they had spaghetti.

That the bouquet on the table wasn’t a dozen roses.

It was tulips.

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questionableratatouille00 · 20 days

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𝓨𝓸𝓾’𝓿𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓐 𝓢𝓽𝓻𝓪𝔂

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Moving to a new place is always a tough time, but the knowing you have a mysterious neighbor doesn’t exactly help.

Warnings: None?

[📞 Series Masterlist 📞]

𝙃𝙤𝙢𝙚

“On Friday, April 4th, three helicarriers from the US government affiliated organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D. fell into the Potomac River in Washington, DC. This occurred only thirty minutes after many previously confidential government, S.H.I.E.L.D., and HYDRA documents were leaked onto the internet. With us today we have Mr. Ed Brubaker here to talk more on HYDRA and how…”

It was like the same news story had been playing for the last week.

Your family had immediately urged you to move somewhere else, somewhere safer. You intended to move anyway, but their persistence was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

And so, you packed up your shit and moved.

You were an artist, so there was plenty to pack. You were only partially concerned over your financial situation—most of your art was bought online, so as long as you could mail things, it would be okay.

And, if worst comes to worst, you could always get a job at like, a sandwich shop or something.

“That over there is the barn. Concrete floor, sturdy walls, perfect for tractors and other vehicles and machinery. Right in front of it is the garage—four wheelers and whatever else is good in there. Here’s your main house. All one floor. Four bedrooms.” Mike said as he walked you up the porch to the sliding glass door.

He led you inside the house. “Master bedroom down the hall, master bathroom connected to it. These are your two living rooms, this one has a television. Back room’s got the laundry machines, and plenty of storage. It’s also got the big freezer. One of your bedrooms is connected to it.” Mike explained. “Nearest neighbor is two fields away—nobody but old folks like me live up here. ‘Cept for Mr. Blackwood, I believe. Though, I have no idea how old that gentleman is, I never seen him ‘round here when I was gettin’ this place here ready.” He pondered.

“Mr. Blackwood?” You echoed.

“Yeah. Chris or Charles or Chase or somethin’ like that. Never hear about him in town, didn’t even know he lived in that there house until recently. Either way, there’s the thin tree line separating you.”

“Right,” you nodded. “You are amazing. The place looks great.” You said to the man who’d sold you the house.

“I do my best, ma’am. The pantry’s fully stocked. You asked for fully furnished, and I planned to deliver.”

“You really did—this is absolutely perfect.” You would admit that the way you’d gotten this place on such short notice was a little shady, but you weren’t going to complain.

“Why, thank you.” He smiled. “Radio’s in the master bedroom. WiFi and internet aren’t the greatest back here—always plan like you won’t have it. Power can get rocky during storms, so always make sure you know where your radio is jus’ in case.”

“Right. Got it.”

Mike left a little later, and you got to bringing in boxes. You put the boxes in their designated rooms before beginning to unpack the necessities first. Things like clothes and stuff.

You wondered about Mr. Blackwood. He was your only neighbor for literal miles, so you had to wonder what he was like. Was he old, like Mike had said? Was he around your age, or maybe somewhere in between? Was he nice? Or would he be annoying?

You had other things to think about. Besides, this wasn’t the most important thing at the moment. You got back to unpacking.

The Captain walked through the halls, the sound of his shoes against the floor audibly telling the world that he means business. His blonde hair was slightly messy, as if he’d just been on a mission. His brows were furrowed, his fists clenched at his sides. A woman with red hair rushed to match his pace. She looked equally concerned, but more for him than whatever he was focused on.

The Spy reached out, attempting to put her hand on his shoulder. He paused to let her do so.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she told him. “You thought he was there so you followed your lead. You made all the right calls.” She attempted to soothe him.

“He wasn’t even there. All that time we could’ve been finding him and I was too busy leading everybody the wrong way.” The Captain frowned.

“It’s okay,” she hummed. “We’ll find your guy. We will.”

The Captain nodded as the Spy gently cupped his face.

“Besides,” she said after a moment. “There’s always one person we can ask for help.”

The Captain gave her an unsteady look, one of pure displeasure. Whoever the other person was, the Captain was not fond of him.

A/n: it’s been a long time coming, huh?

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes

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twistedcharismaaa · 2 months

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Lost & Found Pt. 10.1

Summary: You’re living a suffocating life and you finally find breath in Masego.

Author's Note: Hi guyssssss! I hope you’re doing well! I love and miss you guys!!! I’m back with an update! An actual update for this story (can you believe it? Lol) ! It’s been a thousand years it feels! I highly suggest going back and reading the previous chapter for a refresher! I hope you all enjoy reading! Please leave a comment for ya girl! You know I live for the commentary! Love you guys!!!!!

(Flashback)

Slowly, Tiffany shifted from her relaxed state and sat forward. She uncrossed her legs and placed her notebook on the mahogany-colored coffee table in front of her.

“So, you broke up with Desmonde?” she questioned.

“It was mutual I guess,” you shrugged. “Not much was said,” you continued.

“Can you tell me a little about Desmonde?” she quizzed as she interlocked her fingers.

“I met him shortly after my mom died. He was the local mechanic in the neighborhood. Before I knew it, I just fell into his arms I guess,” you answered reluctantly.

“And with all the time you spent together, how did he make you feel?” she asked.

“He made me feel..” you paused. “He was like…” The word lingered on your tongue as your eyes danced across the room as if you were visibly looking for the right words to say.

“Take your time,” Tiffany insisted.

“He was like the breath in my lungs?” you responded as if you were unsure.

“Ah, he was your love,” Tiffany replied smiling.

“That’s the thing. I don’t know if I ever truly loved him,” you admitted.

“Can you explain further?” she quizzed.

“I think I just depended on him. He made me feel less alone in the world,” you explained.

“And in his absence, you feel like you can’t breathe? As if you don’t have anyone to depend on? Am I close?” she guessed.

You nodded quietly in agreement.

“I would consider Desmonde more of a distraction for you,” she answered.

“A distraction from what?” you questioned feeling somewhat confused.

“Your grief,” she breathed. “You lost your mother and you lost your baby. You distracted yourself with him. He was nothing more than a tangible coping mechanism.” she added. “And now that he’s gone, you can grieve so that you can heal,” she continued.

Immediately, you closed your eyes to shield the oncoming tears that were determined to be set free. Nervously, you bounced your leg repeatedly as you crumbled the hem of your shirt sleeve in the palm of your hand.

“Feel it and let it pass. Breathe Charisma,” Tiffany whispered. —--

(Present)

You answered the phone and readied yourself to hear all of the bullshit that was going to spew out of Desmonde’s mouth. Dramatically, you rolled your eyes and pressed the phone to your ear. With an exasperated sigh, you answered with such disinterest. The sound of desperation that coated Desmonde’s voice caught you by surprise, but what shocked you most, is the news he delivered. The moment the news traveled from his mouth and into your ear caused an instantaneous reaction. Your eyes widened with disbelief as your free hand found residence over your quivering lips. Quickly, you closed your eyes in hopes that your incoming tears wouldn’t shed. You didn’t realize you were frozen until a drunken stranger bumped into you snapping you back into reality. Your eyes were forced open and naturally, apologies were exchanged between you and the partygoer.

“Charisma are you still there?” Desmonde questioned.

You completely forgot that your phone was still resting against your ear. You never did verbally respond to the news.

“I’m here,” you breathed.

“I-I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but believe me when I say that I do care about you. I always have and probably always will,” he admitted.

“Desmonde -” you paused. Before you could respond you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder.

Slowly, you turned around and were greeted by one of Micah’s security guards, Big Mike.

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt but Sego just finished his meet and greet session. He’s looking for you. I can escort you to him if you’re ready?” he quizzed.

“Okay. Can you give me a minute?” you responded politely.

“Absolutely,” Big Mike answered as he nodded.

Soon after Big Mike walked away and allowed you to finish your conversation. He made sure not to stray too far away, he could sense something was wrong.

“Desmonde, you still there?” you quizzed.

“I’m here,” he replied softly.

“Desmonde, I think it’s better if I figure this out by myself,” you responded, calmly.

“Charisma but I think - “ Desmonde tried to interject.

“I think it's better if I figure this out by myself,” you repeated, but this time more sternly. Thank you for telling me.” You added before abruptly hanging up.

Gradually you approached Big Mike.

“Actually, can you take me back to the hotel? I’m feeling a bit tired,” you confessed.

He nodded in agreement. “I’ll let the boss man know,” Big Mike stated.

Easily, Big Mike escorted you to the car safely. He watched you climb inside.

“You good? Comfortable?” He quizzed, with a warm smile.

“Yes,” you answered with a slight smile.

“Cool, cool. I’m going to make a quick call and then we’ll pull off,” he promised.

“Sounds good,” you replied.

“Aight,” Big Mike responded before closing the car door. —-----

Big Mike dialed Micah up to give him an update on the unexpected change of plans.

“Ayeeeee Big Mike!” Micah answered cheerfully. “Y’all on the way?” He asked.

“Not exactly. We’re heading back to the hotel. She said she doesn’t feel too well,” Big Mike explained.

“Is she sick? You think she caught something? You know what, I’ll meet y’all there,” Micah stated.

“Yes sir. Sounds like a plan,” Big Mike answered.

The call came to a mutual end and Big Mike hopped in the driver’s seat and pulled off. You rested your head against the window as you simultaneously looked out of it. You tried your best to quiet your mind.

“Feel it and let it pass….” you silently thought to yourself. —-

Part 9

@ghostfacekill-monger @chaneajoyyy @sapphichottie @straightouttasimulation

@soloperator @19jammmy @soulfuljas @sheabuttahwrites @thadelightfulone

@isisafrofairy @blackburnbook @neeville @nelleana

@theboldlady @geriixox @mooon-berry

@just-juicee @teardropzih @highasfantasy

@savagescorpion @xxariaxxaxx

@themajesticnigerian @theholytrinity

@theconsciousrebel @squigglyemotions

@theycallmechanty @gbdinfinitedrill

@nzia-writes @justanothernerdgirl @pinkthongs @mindnmybidnesss @charismablu @fendionmyfeet @iamrheaspeaks @shewrites02 @iammyownlover

#masego fanfiction #masego x !blackreader #masego x black!reader #masego fic #uncle sego #micah davis #masego music #tadow #lady lady #mystery lady #loose thoughts #pink polo #studying abroad

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lis-likes-fics · 2 years

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Can’t Sleep, Love

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader Warnings: Language, excessive use of “jesus” as a curse word, nothing else, this is a cuddle fic... A/N: Yes, I jumped on this wagon. Eddie Munson is among one of the many to own my ass and my heart at the moment, so enjoy the fics he’s gonna squeeze out of me for a while. I might be adding a taglist, I will be adding a divider (at a later time, it’s two in the fcking morning). Enjoy this unhinged weirdo in this best friends to lovers. P.S.: I have found that I would die for him so... ahem.

“Eddie!” you yell across the cafeteria, ignoring the looks you receive from those who turn at your outburst. The messenger bag at your side flails around as you practically sprint, being called out by a teacher who tells you to walk. You hardly listen as you move some hair out of your face. Some people snicker, others roll their eyes. You don’t care, too focused on the person you were trying to reach.

The person in question looks up at the sound of his name, brown eyes finding yours as he smiles. His hands, decorated in the rings you seem to adore so much, are clasped in front of him as he leaned on his elbows. His hair, long and dark, sits on his shoulders in tangles and frizzy curls.

You shoo away the sophomore in your usual spot, plopping down next to your best friend with a huff and a groan. Scattered ‘hey’s are spread around the table. It seems you have interrupted a conversation you had little to no care about at the moment. “I hate making calls,” you mumble to him as you drop your bag down onto the floor with a loud thud. You slouch as you grab his plate of food — food he was merely picking at, rather than actually eating — and chew on a semi-cold fry.

His face lights up at your complaint, “So you called like I said?”

You nod, but the second groan you let out as you toss the fry onto the table is a pathetic one that he rolls his eyes at. “What did they say? Did it go well?”

“I’ve got an interview tomorrow at two-thirty,” you tell him, picking at the peeling table.

“Well, that’s good. Isn’t it?”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, Eds, but that means I actually have to go and talk to people and pretend to be a normal human being. Nobody wants that.” He laughs at you — that teasing, throaty laugh that ends with an inhale as he leans back in his seat — and you scowl. “Your support in me is welling up in my soul,” you mumble, sarcasm dripping from your lips as you continue to glare.

He sighs contentedly, like he has finally stopped laughing from the greatest joke. “I’m sorry, you’re just so funny.”

“Har, har,” you said monotonously.

He gently punched your arm and you rubbed the spot as if it had hurt. “Don’t be a pussy,” he says, although his eyes convey a much less curt tone. Surrounded by all these people encourages him not to get all soft on you. He’s got a reputation to uphold and so do you. “It’s only one job interview. The worst they can do is say no.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim, slapping your hands on the table as your own rings — one which was gifted to you by Eddie — clatter against the hard table. “They could say no and I will have socialized for nothing, and wasted a perfectly good Saturday.” You mumble the last part to yourself under your breath.

Again, Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, hush. You’ll be fine, Bug,” he snorts. Your grumble is loud and annoyed as your head hits the table with a thump.

“Oo, that sounded like it hurt,” Dustin says as he approaches the table with Lucas and Mike on his heels. They take their seats, and you ignore the slight pulse in your forehead.

“What’s going on?” Lucas asks with his arms folded over the table.

You look up at him sharply, clenching your jaw as you practically snapped at him. “O’ fearless leader…is an asshole,” you seethe with no real anger or hatred in your voice, but just enough annoyance to substitute for both.

Like you were delivering a never-ending joke, Eddie laughs once again. “Bug’s got a job interview, and she’s upset because she actually has to go to it,” Eddie confesses, giving you up like chopped liver.

Mike shrugs, “You’ll be fine. You’re good at talking to people.”

This time, Eddie’s laugh is louder. It’s like he has just heard the funniest joke that could ever be told as he leans back in his seat, hand over his chest, and head thrown back. “Clearly, you’ve never seen her talk to people,” he says in between fits of laughter.

You punch his arm harshly, getting him to shut up as you shoot him a glare. He is hardly deterred, still giggling to himself as he shakes his head. “Well, that’s not true,” Lucas tries. “You were really cool when you met us.”

You roll your eyes, “That’s because you’re nerds. And you’re just kids, I can talk to kids. It’s the condescending adults I hate. And there are a lot of condescending adults.”

Eddie is still giggling when you glare at him again. “Eddie, would you shut up?” you tell him, hiding your face in your hands. “God, you’re so annoying. Why are we friends?”

“Because no one else would take you,” he answers, smirking at you knowingly.

You don’t respond to his joke the way he had hoped you would, still hiding your face away in your hands and sighing heavily. He lets out a breath, resigning from his jokes and laughter as he nudges your shoulder. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing your hands to pull them away from your face. When you're looking at him, he tilts his head down so he looks at you through his lashes.

“I’m sorry, Ladybug,” he apologizes, using that full childhood nickname he had given to you years ago. He grabs a lock of hair between his fingers, pulling it in front of his face to hide behind as he offers a kinder smile. “I’m a royal ass, I should be nicer to a ‘Lady’.” He almost bows dramatically, his hand discarding his hair in favor of twirling in your direction as he ducks his head.

You find it harder to stay mad at him when he acts like this, especially in front of others who he pretends to be harder with. That twinkle in his eyes, that genuine closed-smile on his lips, you can’t help yourself. You return his smile reluctantly, ignoring the way you could feel your heart more consciously in your chest, the way it thumped a little heavier than it had been before.

“Whatever,” you mumble. He catches the sincerity in your tone, the silent forgiveness in your voice as you roll your eyes, which still landed on him.

Eddie beams and leans forward again, turning his attention to the freshies that had joined the table moments prior, along with the rest of the D&D nerds at the table. “Alright, you little shits, listen up. I’ve got a campaign planned for next week so clear your schedules.”

When nightfall comes and you still find yourself wide awake and desperately in need of sleep, you can’t help but pace your room in distress. You always get like this, restless and anxious. This is one of the reasons you absolutely loathe interviews, tests, or even the slightest thought of having to get out of your comfort zone to interact with something or — God forbid — someone you are unfamiliar or unsure about.

You’re an acute-insomniac.

And Eddie knows it.

It is closer to midnight when you hear the quiet rap on your window, a familiar tapping that comes when metal meets glass. You turn around and are entirely unsurprised to see your best friend sitting on the ledge, a large grin on his face and the face of his rings turned toward you as he threatens to knock again. You go to the window, taking a seat and opening it to see him.

“Hey, Ladybug,” he greets, face still beaming as if the smile had not dropped from when you left him before. The nickname makes you roll your eyes. You hardly remember the last he had called you by your actual name — not that you’re complaining.

The nickname “Ladybug” or just “Bug” for short came from when you were a child. You always liked ladybugs, and you used to collect them and take them home with you, hide them in your room in a Mason jar with tiny poked holes in the lid. While Eddie admired your “hobby”, it was a tiring job having to comfort you whenever you sobbed because the ladybugs died.

“Eddie,” you greeted plainly.

“Aren’t you gonna let me in?” he wonders, tilting his head playfully.

You raise a brow, “Do I really have a choice? Because I feel like if I don’t, you’re gonna find a way in one way or another.” As you speak, he climbs through the window and brushes past you without a second thought. You nod expectantly, closing the window behind him before standing again in your pajamas.

“I’m trying to sleep, Eds,” you tell him, sighing as you run a hand through your hair.

“I know, that’s why I’m here,” he says. As he turns, you hear the chains hanging from his pants rustle as he flashes you that smile, removing his jacket to throw it on the chair in your room, leaving him in his Queen’s tee. “Eddie to the rescue.” You roll your eyes.

“I hate to break it to you, pal, but whenever you’re over, it’s usually very unproductive toward sleep,” you tell him, raising a brow.

He shakes his head, raising a finger in your direction as he plops down on the bed, “Not gonna happen. I’m amazing at getting you to sleep.”

You point at him warily, an accusatory look in your eyes as you shake your head, “If you knock me out again, I swear I will literally throw you out of the window.”

“Jesus H. Christ, you will not let that go!” he grumbles, rubbing his temples as shaking his head.

“I had a concussion!”

He flails his arms dramatically, giving you that same exasperated look he gives whenever you bring it up. “How many times do I have to tell you — That was an accident!”

“In any case,” you sigh heavily, “the last time you tried to get me to go to sleep early for that test I had, we weren’t in bed until three in the morning.”

“I thought music would help,” he shrugs innocently.

You roll your eyes as you set your hands on your hips, “It was heavy metal.”

“Still music,” he points at you. You cannot help but laugh, crossing your arms over your chest and shaking your head in response to his words. He watches you with a smile, admiration clear across his face as his own chuckle makes its way up his throat.

He pats the spot next to him and you join his side, head resting on his shoulder. Already his presence brings you comfort as your mind eases just slightly, making sleep somewhat possible, but not within the realm of the next couple of hours.

Eddie brings his wrist to his face, checking the watch on his wrist as he nods. “Let’s see… 11:47. Quest: Get Your Ass to Sleep is a go.” You look up at him, interested in seeing what he had planned this time as he removes his shoes to join his jacket.

He just opens his arms wide and smiles at you. You raise a brow, “What? Are you going to suffocate me?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, waving his arms a little to beckon you closer. “No, I’m gonna cuddle you.”

You still. He is going to cuddle you? Arms wrapped around you, body against body, under the covers cuddling? There is only so much you can handle when it comes to Eddie Munson. This is on the growing list of things that make it harder to function like the semi-normal human being he knew.

It’s not exactly like you had not cuddled before. Maybe you were at his place watching a movie and you fell asleep in his arms, or one of you had a bad day and a long and warm hug was something you needed from one another to help ease the troubles away.

But lately, even the little things — like holding his hand or catching his eye at strange times — feel like a little more than it used to be. You don’t know what it means, the long silent looks, the brushes of your fingers that seem a little more sacred, your newfound inability to decline anything now stronger than it had been before. This feels so new, and yet so familiar, but you cannot place it. Quite frankly, you don’t think you want to.

You raise a brow, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Why not?” he asks, quirking a brow as his grin falters slightly, confusion on his face with a hint of disappointment.

“It’s way too hot in here for cuddling,” you tell him, crossing your arms.

His confusion was amplified as his arms fell. “What the hell are you talking about? It’s so cold in here, it’s always cold in here.”

It’s not hot? It feels pretty hot to you with the way he opens his arms again as less of an invitation and more of a demand. “Come on.”

“Eddie!” you complain, groaning as you lean toward him — not accepting his embrace, just moving closer to him to complain easier.

He does not take your protest, gesturing to the bed with his head. “Lie down,” he orders you. You go to argue again, trying to say you had something to do — which he knows is a lie. “–It’s not up for debate, Bug. Lie down.”

You huff and throw yourself back on the bed, turning on your side away from him as you pout. You feel the bed shift behind you, and you swear you suddenly become hyper-aware of everything. He places his arm over you, almost like he was thinking too much about it. You pull your arm up and out of his way and feel his hand almost drift down to your side, wrapping around you. His other arms snakes under you so that he is finally holding you.

You can hear his breath, pulling in and out as if he has to think about it. His fingers twitch against you, the tip of his ring finger grazes bare skin where your shirt had ridden up a little when you threw yourself back. You can feel the cold material of his rings even through his shirt. It was a habit of Eddie’s he still has not broken: his tendency to forget to take off his rings before he went to bed. You cannot blame him much, as you were also wearing a couple of your own rings as you tucked your hands under your cheek.

As the silence stretches, you tap your finger against your hand gently, absent-mindedly. You bite your lip and look around the room at your lamp, which is still glowing on your bedside table. You honestly did not mean to say anything. Your mouth moves faster than your brain, struggling to find something to distract from the strange moment between the two of you.

“I’m hungry.”

“I could eat,” Eddie replies without missing a beat.

You both sit up, separating from each other as you stand. I point at him awkwardly, trying to come up with something to say. Instead, you turn around and point to the door, which you then walk out of with him following behind you.

In the kitchen, things are not as intense as they were before. It was not necessarily an uncomfortable intensity, it was just… a lot. This time, you’re able to move around the kitchen as you fix a snack with Eddie, laughing and continuously shushing him to make sure he stays quiet. Your parents are asleep by now, and you do not want to wake them. Not necessarily because Eddie is over — about that, they could not care less — but more about the fact that they value their sleep.

Your hushed giggles joined with the abnormally loud clutter of the kitchen appliances are almost scandalous as the two of you dig into the ice cream you snatched from the freezer with two spoons. At some point, Eddie begins to hum something, a song you recognize and hum with him. The humming turns the quiet singing, which turns to the two of you twirling around one another and dancing clumsily around the kitchen.

Eddie, with his hand holding yours, spins you around and you laugh when you collide with the fridge. A plastic bowl sitting on top of the fridge wobbles and you nearly panic at the sight of it. As you go to reach for it, you are too late as it tips over the edge, juggling in your hands for a moment before ultimately falling with a loud clattering sound. You clasp a hand over your mouth as the both of you still with too-big grins, staring down at each other as you wait for any sign that you have been found out.

When you hear both your names suddenly echo through a door down the hall, you laugh with Eddie as you mumble to each other to put the ice cream away and make a run for it. The sad excuse for a cleanup left as you both slip and slide down the hall in your socks is the container with two spoons stuck inside of it, the lid thrown in the freezer carelessly and in a hurry.

When he stops in front of you at the door, you pat his back repeatedly. “Go, go, go!” you whisper, pushing him inside. He takes a tumble to the ground, which you end up following directly after. You both crack up as quietly as you can manage as you find yourself fallen on top of his chest.

When the giggles finally subside, you slowly move off of him to close the door silently behind you. He sits up, tampering with his hair as you stand, pulling him to his feet. When he’s upright again, he ends up closer than you had anticipated. He’s merely inches away from you and you almost hold your breath.

As you take a step back, peering up at those dark brown eyes that you loved to watch sparkle, you clear your throat and raise a brow. “So, are we gonna try again, weirdo?” you say, trying not to sound as hopeful as you feel.

“Well, you do need your sleep,” he quips, not as smoothly as usual, but well enough that you chuckle.

You take off your socks this time before you crawl onto the bed, laying on top of the sheets as you turn off the light. He follows suit, climbing in behind you and wrapping his arms around your body like before, his movements more sure than last time. His arms rests under your head as he pulls you a little closer.

It’s quiet for a little bit as you close your eyes, letting out a deep sigh as you get ready to sleep. But as you lay there, you can’t help the nagging feeling that something is not quite right. You know what the problem is, and you almost succeed in keeping it to yourself. Key word: almost.

“I’m cold.” You almost shudder to get your point across as the chill clings to your bones.

“I thought you said you were hot,” he rolls his eyes, even if you cannot see him.

You shrug, “Well, now I’m cold.” He groans and gets up to fix the covers, bringing it up and over your bodies in an attempt to warm you up. As he moves back into his place, the both of you attempt once more to get to sleep.

And you almost succeed.

Key word again: almost.

“Move, my arm is falling asleep,” he tells you bluntly, moving his hand around as he tries to return the feeling to it. You huff outwardly, sitting up so he can take his arm back. He waves it around for a while before lying back down, this time wrapping his arms around your waist instead of tucking it under your head.

You let out a long breath as you close your eyes once more, readying yourself for bed to trump this anxiety — an anxiety you are nearly forgetting about. But as you lay still under the covers, you begin to think about how warm the covers are mixed with the heat of your bodies pressing so closely together.

You bite your lip, squirming a little bit to try and get comfortable. Eddie quickly grows sick of it as he groans, “I call you 'Bug’, but I should call you ‘Pest’.”

“I’m hot,” you state, rolling your eyes and letting out a sound reminiscent of a groan.

“You just said you were cold.”

“Yeah, well now I’m hot, Eddie. What the fuck do you want me to do?” you tell him, glancing over your shoulder.

“I want you to pick a temperature. One temperature, for the love of God.” He mumbles the last part to himself, adjusting your blankets so it sits lower on your body but still covers you. “Better?”

You nod and shift under the sheets to get comfortable again. Eddie squirms a little, bending his knee, but when he does that, it completely throws you off again. You grumble under your breath but certainly loud enough for him to hear, “Just jam your knee right into my back. This is fine.”

Again, he grunts a half-hearted apology and shifts his leg to move out of the way. But as he moves it lower, you are glad the light is out because otherwise your annoyed blush would be more visible as you tell him, “Eddie, that’s my crotch.”

“Jesus,” he cursed, fixing his leg once again.

“Look, this isn't gonna work,” you try.

He does not listen. “It will work.” His insistence almost feels like he was just looking for an excuse to hold you, rather than him trying to get you to go the hell to sleep — although you know, that is also part of the reason. You just sigh and shake your head.

Time passes, a reasonable amount of time. Your eyes begin to grow heavy, but it isn’t enough just yet. Maybe a few more minutes and you can try and give in to whatever you can grab for sleep. You start to zero in on Eddie: the rise and fall of his chest against your back, the feeling of his hands on your waist with his ring finger still very much grazing bare skin, his gentle breaths fanning over the back of your hair.

Everything is still and calm. You can probably hear his heart beating if you listen closely enough.

But Eddie suddenly ruins it as he lets out a heavy sigh, it fades into a groan. The sound makes you aware of how close you were to getting your mind to shut down and prepare for sleep because a haze lifts from your mind as you open your eyes again.

“Eddie.” Your voice is very nearly a threat, laced with venom and annoyance bordering on anger — well, not exactly anger, more just intense frustration… Eddie hears this in your tone and allows another sigh to pass through before he speaks.

“Your hair, I can’t… I can’t breathe with your hair in my face like this,” he mumbles, one of his hands practically swatting at your hair to sort through it.

You curse under your breath as you sit up, “Here, how about this?” You turn over onto your other side, pulling the sheets up just enough as you lay back down. The new position places you face-to-chest with Eddie, and you look up at him as you settle.

Eddie looks down at you, slowly wrapping his arms back around your body in a more comfortable way. His arm cradles your head while the other keeps you close by your waist. From this new angle, you can properly hear his heart beating, feel his chest rising and falling, hear his breath blow gently into the still air. You can smell him, leather and cigarettes, a scent you have grown to adore.

Your hand comes to rest on his hip, the other crumples into your chests — although, not uncomfortably as you absent-mindedly wrap your fingers around his shirt. You feel the cold material of his guitar pick around his neck underneath your hand, and it causes a small grin to unknowingly spread over your lips.

You are much more comfortable this way, cradled against him like a precious thing held closely to his heart. You hardly notice your legs entwine, wrapping an arm around one another in a search to be closer. He provides a new warmth for you. Any part of you that seems unfortunate enough not to be in contact with him feels colder and encourages you to cuddle closer to him. He welcomes you gladly, his hand lifting gently to stroke his thumb over your cheek.

You hear him whisper your name, to which you reply with a lazy hum as you find yourself much closer to rest than any of the other times combined. When he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and whispers, “I love you, Ladybug”, it feels a lot different from all those other times when he would tell you when you needed to hear it — or even at times when he just felt like saying it to you. You know it does, you can feel it in the way that you feel your heart flutters at the words, feel it in the way that his heart flutters at the words.

And still you whisper back in that different-from-all-those-other-times way, “I love you, too, Eds” because you know it’s true.

My Megalist: pending... Eddie Munson taglist: pending... Tag yourself here...

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie my love <3 #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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deanismysavior · 2 years

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This really put the nail in the coffin for me:

The Mike monologue to El is NOT supposed to come across as romantic, at least, not in the sense that you would expect.

In Mike's monologue, he tells El "You can do anything! You can fly. You can move mountains. I believe that."

This is important, because this part of the monologue sounds a whole heck of a lot like the speech that Brenner gives El when she tries to leave to go save Max.

In this scene, Brenner says, "You came to me broken, and you've learned to walk again, but if you want to stop One, you'll need to do more than walk. You will need to do more than run. You will need to fly."

This is not the first time in the season that we see Mike getting paralleled with Brenner. In fact, this happens at the end of the S4E2 when Mike sees El hit Angela over the head with a rollerskate and says "What did you do?," the exact same thing Brenner said after finding El in the rainbow room surrounded by the other lab kids who were all killed.

Before we get deeper into the monologue itself, let's take a look at the note that Mike and El leave their relationship on before she leaves. We see their fight in her bedroom where El brings up that Mike never expresses love to her. El tells Mike that she doesn't belong anywhere, and that everyone looks at her "like a monster," and accuses Mike of seeing her this way too. Here he deflects the allegations and calls her "Eleven," not El. When he attempts to mend this with her, he uses the words "incredible," and "superhero" to describe El.

We've already talked about the implications that using these adjectives describes idolization rather than love, but what's more here is that he puts the same emphasis on her powers that Brenner does. By referring to her as Eleven, not El or Jane, he subliminally sends the message that he is thinking of her as an "other," and to her, this holds the connotation of an experiment since that's what the numbers signified in Brenner's lab.

It is made very evident here that we are supposed to align Mike with Dr. Brenner.

Before El leaves, in her last scene with Mike when she is being placed in the cop car, we see him say to her, "Eleven, Eleven, listen to me, okay? Eleven, will you please look at me? Everything's going to be fine. I'm going to fix this."

Not only does he repeatedly once again call her Eleven, instead of the affectionate nickname he gave her, but he specifically uses the word "fix," perfectly mirroring what Brenner says when he refers to El as "broken."

So when we then see language from the same conversation El has with Brenner come back in during Mike's love confession with the word "fly," the viewer is once again subliminally meant to associate Mike with Dr. Brenner.

What's so interesting about this confession scene is that it also heavily mirrors Mike's shared memory with Will in season 2 as he's trying to break through the Mind Flayer's possession of Will.

In this scene, we see Mike describing the first time he met Will. We see Finn give a shockingly visually similar performance to his monologue with El, but here we see Mike shedding tears, and the way in which Finn delivers these lines is not frantic or off-the-cuff, but instead the tone is quiet and the strength of the speech lies solely in the emotion behind his words. This scene comes across as much more tender and genuine, and stands in stark contrast tonally to the way we see Mike speak to El.

Here, Mike says that he "felt so alone" during that first day of kindergarten, but then he "saw [Will] on the swings, and [he was] alone too," establishing a kinship and connection with Will immediately. Mike continues by saying, "I just walked up to you, and I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend. And you said yes. You said yes. It was the best thing I've ever done."

In this monologue, we not only see that similar language is used in the Mike love confession scene in which he tells El his "life started" when he found her in the woods, but we get this interesting contrast in which Mike's words are actually able to break through to Will here, whereas when he is confessing to El, Vecna's grip tightens until she looks over at Max.

By drawing this parallel, it simultaneously codes this monologue from season 2 in a romantic light, since we are meant now to associate the scene with the "romantic" love confession in season 4, but it also discredits the genuineness of Mike's season 4 monologue as we see the stark contrast in Finn's performance. In both scenes, the stakes were high and people he cared about were in danger, so why does one read with such deep emotion while the other comes off as clichéd and inconsistent with past events?

When we combine the messages of these two parallels in Mike's monologue we are left with a rather confusing and disturbing message: that Mike and El's relationship is entagled with other parties, and here's why it's important to consider these points together:

Subliminally, El is associating Mike's words during this monologue with the way Dr. Brenner makes her feel, while Mike subliminally associates his words in contrast to the way he feels about Will.

Therefore, for El, what's getting in the way of her relationship with Mike is that he seems to see her in a similar way to how Dr. Brenner does, zeroing in on her powers, her usefulness, and her otherness.

But for Mike, what's getting in the way of his relationship with El is repression and the complicated feelings he has for Will. I've tried, for arguments sake, to find a non-romantic reasoning for this parallel, but I really don't think there is one.

If we're able to take these parallels and draw these conclusions, then the exchange that occurred within the Mileven monologue is not the romantic triumph that I think a lot of casual viewers saw it as. We are meant to feel the wrongness in this scene.

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #el hopper #stranger things #st #stranger things 4 #st4 #stranger things analysis #mikes monologue #mike wheeler i know what you are

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sebstanaddict · 9 months

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Too Good To Be True

Sebastian Stan x Reader Story

Summary: A romantic comedy story where Sebastian Stan falls in love with reader but she is not who he thinks she is.

Having moved to LA reader finished her acting course and went on to do her very first audition. One thing she didn't expect was that her dream of meeting Sebastian came true! Sebastian was one of the people who was judging the audition! Will she do the audition successfully in front of her idol? Or will her nerves get the best of her and ruin it all for her?

Pairings : Sebastian Stan x Female!Reader

Chapters : 2/20 (Might add more)

Chapter List >

Warning : none

Word count : 5k words

This story is inspired loosely by Sebastian's love life so it will have characters from his real life but I will not name their real names. I will only use Sebastian's real name in the story.

---

Chapter 2 - Hungry Eyes

Los Angeles Performing Arts Conservatory, Los Angeles, California

Y/n's eyes widened and her heart seemed to stop as she continued to gaze at him. Him. The one person who had colored her dreams and fantasies for the better part of her life. Him. The one person who she had idolized and admired for so long. Him. The one person who she never thought she would ever meet. Yet there he was, sitting not more than twenty feet from her, gazing at her with his gorgeous blue eyes full of curiosity.

"Miss, can we help you?" The man with the graying hair asked, jolting her back to reality.

"Uh.. yes. I'm here to audition." She said as she finally ripped her eyes away from Sebastian and looked at the man with the graying hair.

"What's your name?" The man asked.

"It's Y/f/n Y/l/n." She replied.

"Okay. Go on up there." The man beckoned his head towards the stage.

She nodded and immediately went up to the stage. She tripped at the stairs as she went up and stumbled a little, but she caught herself on time so she didn't fall. How could she be so clumsy? She grumbled internally.

"Careful there." Sebastian called out.

Her heart skipped a beat in her chest as she heard him. She turned to look at him, nodded and smiled, feeling warmth crawling from her neck up to her cheek. He smiled back at her and she felt butterflies in her stomach. So, this was how it felt to fall in love. She thought in amazement.

"Whenever you're ready." The man with the graying hair said.

Right. She blinked. She needed to get herself together. Her first audition ever and she should not mess it up. Especially not with Sebastian Stan sitting right in front of her.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment and imagined herself as someone else. She was Sarah not Y/n. She was Mike's sister. She was twenty, a college student at Stanford majoring in pre-law and she was just going to tell her brother how much she was going to miss him when he's away.

She opened her eyes and delivered her first line. She wasn't even finished with her first line when the man with the graying hair called out. "Stop!"

She stopped, her heart dropped to her stomach. Was she that bad? She didn't even get the chance to say the full line and she was already stopped?

"Miss Y/l/n. What role are you auditioning for?" The man with the graying hair asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Um.. Sarah." She said slowly.

"Well, I'm sorry but you're late. We've already finished auditioning for Sarah and we're now auditioning for Celeste." The man said.

Apparently she was too late. They were already auditioning for the role of the main character's girlfriend.

"Oh. I'm.. I'm sorry. I didn't realize.." She stammered.

"Alright, move along now." The man with the graying hair said, effectively kicking her off the stage.

Feeling so embarrassed with herself she started to walk towards the stairs of the stage.

"You can still audition for Celeste if you want." Sebastian suddenly called out, making her stop in her tracks.

"Umm.." She actually studied some of Celeste's lines and had memorized some, but she wasn't sure she was ready. She looked towards where Sebastian was sitting. He was smiling at her, making butterflies flutter around in her stomach. God, he really was gorgeous.

"Well.. Miss Y/l/n? Are you going to audition or not? Stop wasting our time." The man with the graying hair said, snapping her back to reality. She really needed to get a grip on herself.

"Oh Harold, don't be so hard on her. Have some patience." The blonde woman sitting next to him scolded him.

She should have just said no. But something inside her encouraged her to go on with the audition. It was not everyday she got the chance to audition to be Sebastian Stan's girlfriend. It was an opportunity of a lifetime! It would be stupid to pass it up!

"Thank you. I'll audition for Celeste." She finally said as she walked back to the center of the stage.

"Good, take your time, dear." Maya Carver the director said, smiling encouragingly at her.

She had read the whole script so she knew in which parts of the script Celeste appeared and she tried to remember Celeste's lines, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't remember them. Moments passed as she stood in the center of the stage. Her stomach was in knots as she continued to stare at the people sitting in front of the stage who were staring back at her expectantly.

"Maybe you need some help." Sebastian suddenly said. His words startled her. She blinked as Sebastian stood up and went onto the stage.

She didn't know how but her heart seemed to beat even faster like it was going to burst out of her chest as she watched Sebastian walking closer towards her.

He stopped right in front of her and smiled. "Don't be nervous. Just imagine us all naked." He said with a low voice only she could hear and winked.

She laughed nervously. "That doesn't help at all."

Sebastian laughed. "Okay, maybe not naked. Maybe imagine us all wearing the Minions costume. We're all just Minions who can't even speak English."

She laughed again and nodded. "Okay."

"So, which part do you want to use from the script?" Sebastian asked.

"Um.. the one where Celeste tried to persuade Mike not to use doping." She replied as memories of the scene flooded her mind.

"Alright." Sebastian nodded.

They both took deep breaths together and let it go. For a split second she could see the change in Sebastian. His expression changed, his eyes changed and even his posture changed. It was awe inspiring.

"Celeste.. it's not like I'm gonna use it continuously. I need it just for the mountain leg of the race, you know how hard that part of the race is." Sebastian delivered his line as he placed his hands on the sides of her arms.

Yes, she was Celeste not Y/n anymore and she needed to persuade Mike not to go through using the doping, for his own good.

"Mike.. what if you get caught?! You won't be able to race anymore! Can't you understand that?!" She finally delivered her line as she stared at Sebastian's eyes intently, her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"They won't find out, Celeste. Trust me! The doping I'm gonna use has been tested so it won't be detected even with a blood test! I.. I need this. I can't lose anymore. Not after years of joining the race and not a single win!" Sebastian said in frustration.

She sighed and reached her hand up to touch the side of his face. She gazed at him softly. "There's always next year, Mike. The risk is too great. It's not worth it. Besides, you'll be putting not just yourself at risk but the others on your team as well."

Sebastian gazed back at her and for a second she felt like he was really seeing her. Like he was seeing into her soul. No one had ever looked at her that way and she felt like she could melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Oh Celeste, I know you mean well.. but, I promise I will only use it once. Please, sweetheart, try to understand." Sebastian squeezed the sides of her arms gently and continued to gaze at her with hope in his eyes.

She blinked several times and dropped her hand from his face.

"Okay." She sighed. "But just once. Promise me you'll only use it once."

Sebastian's face broke into a smile and he put both hands on the sides of her face, making her heart skip a beat.

"Thank you, Celeste. I knew you'd understand." He smiled and continued to gaze at her with love in his eyes.

The realization suddenly hit her. The next scene was Mike kissing Celeste!

She waited with bated breath as Sebastian continued to hold her face in his hands and leaned in closer to her. She closed her eyes and could feel his breath on her lips. Her heart did somersaults as he leaned even closer to her. Sebastian f*****g Stan was going to kiss her! Her first kiss ever and it was going to be with Sebastian Stan! She felt weak in her knees all of a sudden.

"Okay, stop! That's enough." Harold called out and she felt Sebastian's hands released her face. She opened her eyes and Sebastian smiled at her.

"That was good. You did well." He winked, making her weak all over.

"Thank you." She replied shyly.

"Alright, thank you Y/f/n Y/l/n. Who else would like to audition?" Harold called out behind him and she could see almost all the girls in her class raised their hands up in the air.

"Come on." Sebastian beckoned his head towards the stairs, encouraging her to walk first. She walked towards the stairs with Sebastian following her close behind.

She felt like she was dreaming as she went down the stairs. Well, she was disappointed that Sebastian didn't end up kissing her. But still.. he held her face! And more importantly, she managed to do a great audition! She couldn't be more proud of herself!

She was about to step onto the last landing of the stairs thinking that she had already reached the bottom of the stairs. Her misjudgement caused her to skip a stair and she fell down onto the ground, twisting her right ankle in the process.

"Ouch!" She yelped in pain.

"Are you okay?!" Sebastian quickly went down the stairs and knelt beside her.

Great! Why must these things happen to her? She thought she was going to survive this unharmed but there she was, hurt yet again.

She whimpered in pain as she sat on the ground, rubbing her swollen ankle.

"I think I twisted my ankle." She winced.

"Oh okay. Can you try to stand up? I'll walk you to the infirmary." Sebastian offered. Some of her friends had come and crowded around her, wanting to help her out.

"I can try." She said.

With help from Sebastian and one of her girl friends she tried to stand up. But the moment she tried to walk and put a little weight on her twisted ankle she immediately collapsed in pain, hanging onto Sebastian for dear life.

God, this is so embarrassing. She grumbled internally.

"I don't think you can walk." Sebastian stated.

"Guys, just continue on without me. I'm going to take her to the infirmary. I'll be back in a few minutes." He continued to say to his colleagues.

Without waiting to hear whether they approved or not, he put one hand under her legs and another under her back and he hoisted her up and carried her bridal style towards the exit, much to the surprise of everyone including herself!

"Put your arms around me." Sebastian looked down and commanded.

"So you won't fall." He continued when she didn't react.

She nodded and immediately circled her arms around his neck. One of her girl friends, Maya, followed along. Maya helped in opening the door of the auditorium and showed him the way to the infirmary.

All throughout the journey to the infirmary her heart galloped fast in her chest. Never in a million years she thought Sebastian Stan would carry her like this! She looked up and couldn't help but admire his perfect face. His eyes looked straight ahead, his eyebrows furrowed a little, his sharp jaw set. His face was so close to her she could probably kiss his cheek if she wanted to. She could even smell his cologne. He smelled fresh yet masculine, she couldn't place what scent it was but it was intoxicating. She now understood why most fans that had met him said he smelled good. He really did smell good and she felt like she was falling head over heels for him.

The journey to the infirmary finally ended much to her disappointment. Sebastian placed her gently on one of the beds in the infirmary.

"Ow!" She yelped as her legs were settled down onto the bed and her twisted ankle hit the bed.

"Sorry." Sebastian said, looking at her in concern.

"What happened?" The nurse in the infirmary asked as she stood next to her.

"Twisted my ankle." She explained.

"She tripped on the way down the stage." Sebastian added.

"I see." The nurse examined her ankle and she could see some bruises there, her ankle had also started to swell.

"I think you just twisted the ligaments, no sign of a fracture, so don't worry. I'm going to give you some ibuprofen gel to help ease the pain and some cold compress to reduce the swelling." The nurse said after she was done examining her ankle.

"Okay." She nodded.

"If the swelling gets worse within a day you'll need to go and get an X-ray on it to make sure there is no fracture. In the meantime you need to rest your ankle and limit your mobility. Give it a cold compress for about twenty minutes every couple of hours for the first two or three days and put it in a raised position above the level of your heart, like this." The nurse said as she guided her to lie down on the bed and placed several pillows under her ankle.

"Okay." She nodded.

"You can take over the counter painkillers if you want but for now I think the ibuprofen gel should help." The nurse continued.

"Okay." She nodded again.

"You're also advised to limit your movements for the next week or two. You'll also probably need crutches to help your mobility." The nurse continued.

"Crutches?!" She exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yes, to limit pressure on your ankle so that it can heal faster." The nurse explained.

"Do I really need crutches?" She whined.

"Well, stand up and show me you can walk without one." The nurse challenged her.

She put her legs over the edge of the bed and placed both legs gently on the floor. She winced as she started to try and walk, pain shot up from her twisted ankle as she put pressure on it and she collapsed right into Sebastian's arms again.

"You need crutches." Sebastian stated as he held her tight and helped her get back on the bed gently.

"Yeah, thank you." She said, blushing so hard as Sebastian laid her back down on the bed and placed her ankle gently on top of the pillows.

"So you see why you need crutches. The less pressure you put on it the swelling will heal faster hence you'll recover faster." The nurse said and she could only nod as the pain from her ankle continued to throb.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get the gel and cold compress for you." The nurse said.

She nodded again and the nurse finally left them.

"Great, I need crutches. How am I supposed to get home?" She sighed in defeat.

"I can drive you home." Sebastian said.

"What?! No, thank you Sebastian. But I don't want to bother you too much." She declined. She already felt so embarrassed that he had to carry her to the infirmary. She couldn't possibly allow him to drive her home.

"Yeah, I can drive her home. You don't need to do that Sebastian." Maya, who had been silent all this time finally chimed in.

"No, It's fine, I'll drive her. Wait, didn't you want to audition too?" Sebastian asked, turning to Maya.

"Umm.. yes I do." Maya nodded.

"Well you should go back to the auditorium then or you'll miss it." Sebastian suggested.

"Yeah, okay. Y/n, I'll come back later, okay." Maya said.

"Don't worry, you don't need to do that. She's safe with me." Sebastian smiled and patted her hand gently. Her heart did somersaults as she heard him. She felt like she could melt into the bed.

"Oh! Okay then. Thank you Sebastian. I guess, I'll see you later Y/n." Maya said, looking confused at the both of them.

"Yeah, see you later Maya. Thank you." She said.

Maya finally turned around and left the infirmary, leaving her alone with Sebastian with her heart still doing somersaults in her chest. How could he be so sweet to her? She didn't get it.

"Sebastian, you really don't need to drive me home. One of my friends can take me." She said.

"Hey, it's fine. Don't worry about it. Besides, I owe you." Sebastian said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"What? What do you mean?" She asked in confusion.

"Do you remember about a month ago someone hit your head with a frisbee at Venice Beach?" He asked.

"Yeah. Wait.. how did you know?" Her eyes widened.

"That was me that hit you. I'm so sorry. I didn't see you walking by when I threw the frisbee. My dog Zander was supposed to catch it." He explained.

So she was right! It really was Sebastian Stan that hit her with the frisbee. She couldn't believe it!

"Oh, that was you?!"

"Yeah. Sorry. I didn't intend to just leave you like that but Zander ran away and I had to catch him. Hope you were okay?" He asked as his eyes showed a little regret.

"Oh yeah, as you can see, I'm fine. Well, I was fine." She chuckled.

"Good." He smiled and for the nth time that day her heart skipped a beat.

"At first I didn't realize it was you. But when I got on the stage and took a closer look at you, I knew who you were." He said.

That I am the love of your life? She added internally.

"I knew you were the girl that I hit with a frisbee back in Venice Beach." He laughed and her fantasy was gone in a puff of smoke.

She laughed along with him. Well, there was no way she was the love of his life. To be honest, just him remembering her was a milestone for her. Men usually didn't even see her let alone remember her.

She looked up at him as their laughter subsided and found him looking back at her. She felt it again, how he was seeing her, really seeing her deep into her soul like no other person ever had.

For a moment there was a comfortable silence between them. She didn't mind if she stayed like this forever, just gazing into his gorgeous blue eyes for eternity.

"So, here's the gel and cold compress." The nurse was finally back, breaking their comfortable silence.

"Well, looks like you're in good hands." Sebastian smiled and she felt her heart skip a beat yet again.

"Now I'm gonna get back to the auditorium, and I'll come back here after the audition is over." He continued.

"Okay, thank you so much, Sebastian." She nodded.

"No problem. Take care Y/n and see you later." He patted her hand gently, sending shivers down her spine. She could only smile at him and he finally left her, leaving her feeling like jelly all over.

"He was so nice wasn't he? Most famous actors wouldn't care." The nurse commented as she applied some gels on her ankle.

"Yeah. He is so nice." She commented as she continued to stare at the door of the infirmary where she last saw his retreating back.

She didn't think she could fall in love even more with Sebastian Stan yet there she was. She was deeply in love with him and she was in it so bad.

—

She did not expect Sebastian to carry her again but there she was, a couple of hours later, once the auditions were over, circling her arms around his neck again as he carried her from the infirmary to his car. She had tried to stand earlier thinking that she could walk a little while holding on to the nurse, but her ankle was still in pain so she collapsed again. She had told Sebastian not to carry her again and let her friends help her instead but he was adamant.

"I can carry you, Y/n, it's no big deal. No need to bother your friends." He insisted.

Her face must have looked as red as a tomato as Sebastian carried her and they passed other students on their way out. She opted to look down in an effort to avoid the stares of her friends. She could imagine the gossip everyone was talking about behind her back.

Minutes later they finally arrived at his car. His car was a Jaguar, something she didn't think she should be surprised about but yes, she was a little surprised.

"Alright, where to Miss?" Sebastian turned to look at her and smiled a little once they were both settled in the car. Yes, her heart skipped a beat again as she looked at his smile. How could somebody look so cute when they smiled? She pondered.

"Y/n? Earth to Y/n." Sebastian called out and she blinked.

"Sorry.. My apartment is at W76th street." She finally said. She really should get it together and stop fangirling over him. She scolded herself.

"Okay. That's not far at all from here, right?" He asked as he switched the gear and stepped on the gas.

"No, not at all." She replied.

She was silent all the way back to her apartment, not sure what to say to him and what to talk about. She still felt like she was in a dream and that soon the alarm was going to blare and let her know she was in the land of dreams. But minutes passed by and she didn't hear an alarm. Instead she heard someone humming.

She turned to look at him and he was humming a song. She laughed as she recognized the song. It was Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen. She knew it was one of his favorite songs. She loved it herself and often sang it at home whenever she felt like it.

His humming intensified and he ended up singing the song. She couldn't help but join him. Before she knew it they finally arrived at her apartment, just as their singing of the song concluded.

"You have a nice voice." Sebastian turned to look at her and smiled.

This time her heart didn't just skip a beat but it went into somersaults.

"Thank you." She replied, feeling warm on her cheeks.

Sebastian continued to stare at her and smiled, making her feel once again like he was really seeing her into her soul. What was happening to her?

Sebastian averted his eyes just when she thought she was going to drown in his beautiful ocean blue eyes and he got out of the car.

Please, get yourself together! She scolded herself.

Much to her delight, once again Sebastian carried her. This time he carried her from his car right to her bedroom. Her roommate Haley who was the only one home at the time was completely shocked upon seeing her in Sebastian's arms.

"What happened Y/n?" She asked, her mouth agape as she continued to look at them.

"I twisted my ankle so I can't walk." She explained as Sebastian made his way into her apartment.

She felt really bad for him because her unit was on the third floor and there was no elevator so they had to take the stairs. Multiple times she persuaded Sebastian to just stop and let her try to walk but he would have none of it.

"You still need to rest your ankle. Didn't you hear what the nurse said?" He scolded her as they arrived on the second floor.

Several huffs and puffs later from Sebastian they finally arrived in her bedroom. He placed her gently on the bed and this time he was careful not to let her ankle hit the bed.

"There you go. Finally safe in your own bed." Sebastian panted as he wiped some sweat from his forehead.

"Thank you so much, Sebastian. I'm really sorry to have bothered you so much." She said as she placed her hand on his and squeezed it.

Sebastian smiled. "Oh no problem Y/n. Like I said. I owe you. This is the least I can do."

"Thank you again, Sebastian. By the way, would you like something to drink? You must be thirsty." She offered.

"Oh yeah. I'll have some water, please. Thank you." He said.

"Haley.." She called out and Haley nodded.

"Water, coming right up." Haley responded and soon left her bedroom.

"So, this is a nice place you have here." Sebastian looked around.

"It's a mess. Sorry." She said in embarrassment as she noted that she had left some dirty laundry on the floor.

"Well, not messier than my own place." He chuckled.

"You don't have maids to clean your place?" She asked, raising her eyebrows.

"No." He chuckled. "I'm not the King of England. I can clean my own place."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to insult you." She realized what she had said and kicked herself internally.

"It's okay. People have their own perspectives about people in my profession. Some have maids perhaps, but not me. I mean, I live alone so no need for a maid really."

He lived alone? That was an interesting fact. She thought.

"Oh. Okay. I thought you lived with Aurora." She said, referring to his actress girlfriend.

He laughed. "No, we don't live together."

"Okay." She nodded.

"What about you? Does your boyfriend live here too?" He asked.

"I don't have a boyfriend." She shook her head and blushed. Why was he asking her this? There was no way that he was interested in her whatsoever.

"Oh okay." He nodded. For a split second she felt like she saw relief in his eyes but the next second it was gone. She must have hallucinated. She kicked herself mentally.

Just then Haley came bringing a glass of water. He was really thirsty it seemed. It took him no time to finish the glass of water.

"So, do you have crutches?" He asked as soon as he finished drinking.

"What?" She asked, completely forgetting about crutches.

"Yeah, you know, the nurse said you would need it to move around." He reminded her.

"My boyfriend has crutches. He broke his leg a couple of months ago. He has recovered so he doesn't need it anymore. I can ask to borrow it from him." Haley chimed in.

"Oh okay. That's great! Cause if you didn't have it I thought I could go out and buy one for you." He said.

How could he be so sweet? She pondered internally as she felt warm in her heart.

"Sebastian, you really didn't have to." She protested.

"Oh stop it Y/n. By now I'm sure you know I would insist."

"True." She laughed and he laughed as well. His laughter was so cute. She felt like she could listen to it forever.

"Anyway, I better get going." He said as he glanced at his watch.

"Oh yeah, of course. Thank you again, Sebastian. I really appreciate all that you've done for me." She said, smiling at him.

"No problem Y/n. Hope you'll recover soon, and I hope next time we meet you won't get hurt again." He chuckled.

"Oh I hope so too!" She laughed.

He leaned down and gave her a tight hug much to her surprise, then he released her.

"Take care, Y/n." He winked, making butterflies flutter around in her stomach.

"You too, Sebastian." She croaked, still feeling weak after being hugged by him unexpectedly.

He smiled then turned around, followed by Haley, leaving her alone in her bedroom with her whole body feeling like jelly.

This is the best day of my life! She screamed internally as she made an effort to excitedly move her body on the bed up and down but she immediately regretted it as she felt the shooting pain from her ankle again.

"Ouch!" She yelped and stopped moving.

Okay, it might not be 100% a good day, but even though she twisted her ankle it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. How else could she get 'the' Sebastian Stan to carry her bridal style? How else could she get him to carry her at all if she wasn't injured?

Now that she thought about it, he really didn't need to do all that for her. He could've just ignored her and let someone else help her. But he went to great lengths to help her out. He even remembered that he had hit her with the frisbee in Venice Beach. She wondered if he had feelings for her.

Stop it! How could he? There was just no way. Besides, he has a girlfriend, remember? Her logic reminded her and she sighed.

Yeah, he had a girlfriend. How could she forget about that? Besides, no other men ever showed interest in her for all these years. There was just no way someone like Sebastian liked her. He probably just felt sorry for having hit her with the frisbee. Besides, if he really was interested in her, why didn't he ask for her number? He was just being nice. She finally concluded.

Well, no matter what motivation he had for helping her out, she would forever remember this day as one of the top ten best days of her life. For once she felt kind of lucky. Maybe life was finally turning good for her.

Unfortunately her feelings of being lucky lasted only a short while as what happened next forced her to change her perspective back to the way it was. Luck really was rarely on her side.

Chapter 3 >

Taglist

@dhoruwolfie

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan fluff #sebastianstan

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paintingformike · 2 years

Text

i need milevens to realize that mike didnt just randomly gain the ability to say ily to el, there was obviously something that made him change his mind and motivated him enough to spill out the words 😭

like think about it, just minutes before will delivered this grand speech of el needing mike and feeling lost without him, mike was already resigned to el not needing him anymore and ending things between them. now, you could say that his insecurities talked for him and he was just feeling worthless in their relationship, but it’s actually more than that. because remember, when did mike realize that el didn’t need him anymore?

he saw it in her eyes, the last time they talked. that was right when they had their fight about mike not telling el he loved her. so based on these sequence of events, and based on the context from the aftermath of their fight, mike knew that el didn’t need him anymore because...he couldn’t offer her the love that she wanted from him.

going by this logic...wouldn’t all mike have to do is reassure el that he loved her so that she wouldn’t leave him or stop needing him? he literally believes that himself, “maybe if i said that thing, she’d want me there with her.” if his sole problem was his inability to verbalize his feelings and he actually loved her deep inside, then he wouldn’t be feeling like it’s over and finished for them, because atleast he knew the love was still there and he’d just have to gain the courage to spill the words so that he wouldn’t lose her. so why was he feeling so defeated in the van?

because he had no hope that he was gonna be able to say “i love you” to el right at that point.

not long before his monologue, mike had no intentions of ever telling el what she wanted to hear from him. he knew he’d never be able to bring himself to say it to her because it wasn’t actually true. he didn’t love her, atleast not the way she wanted him to. and thanks to this, el realized she didn’t need him. she left on a finished note (from el) that clearly showed how she didn’t want mike to stay by her side or be a support system for her, which just confirmed his suspicions even more for him, which in turn fuelled his insecurities...“i’m no use to her at all, and the fact that i can’t love her that way just gives her even more reason to leave my life for good.”

so what made him suddenly go a complete 180° and be able to tell her he loved her?

surprise, it was all will byers.

all will had to do was pull out the painting and confess his love for him and suddenly mike is overwhelmed by a myriad of emotions at once, catching his breath, gulping hard and smiling the biggest he’s ever had all season. will had the kind of love mike desperately wanted and mike fell completely head over heels for it. but the problem was that he lied and made it all sound like it came from el. although mike wasn’t immediately on board or happy about el “commisioning the painting”, because everytime will brought up her name, his face just fell and he’d start looking at the painting suspiciously. but in the end, it was his undying trust in will that made him buy what will was trying to put out for him. even though he was confused about certain things not adding up, he chose to believe his best friend of 10 years who rarely, if not, ever lied to him. a different version of el was successfully planted in mike’s head, which was really just will byers in disguise. and mike felt this newfound love in his relationship based on the wrong feelings.

(i’ve seen some bylers try to point out that mike probably saw right through will and knew deep down that he was talking about himself, but i just don’t see that being possible, because imo the monologue wouldn’t have happened in the first place if he knew the painting was all from will. he wouldn’t have used it as the basis for his speech to el if he knew those weren’t her feelings. he wouldn’t have even felt motivated enough to attempt to salvage their relationship in the first place! it was will who successfully made mike feel like el still needed him and that there was still a way for him to keep her in his life. romantically, because he thinks there’s no other way to make her stay without losing her.)

and what does will tell mike right before his monologue?

“don’t stop, remember you’re the heart.”

yeah² i know that people are gonna start reasoning out that mike would've told el he loved her even without will encouraging him to speak, but that just makes this line of dialogue even more incriminating. if you admit that will’s words of encouragement wouldn’t have been necessary in a genuine love confession, then why did the duffers decide to write it in anyways?

because it serves a narrative purpose.

it was to make it clear exactly who and what mike felt motivated by. not el, not his actual girlfriend, but will, his gay best friend who’s in love with him, the one who made him the painting that came with all the feelings and words that made mike feel true love for the first time, the painting that will lied about el “commissioning” and bore all the sentiments of mike being the heart and the leader, it all came back to mike right at that moment because will reminded him of it by calling him the heart. that was genuine romantic love coming from will, and mike was about to respond to those feelings while under the impression he could finally give el the kind of love she wanted after being so moved by those feelings, but that wasn’t el at all, just this fabricated image of her.

this is why mike wasn’t really intentionally lying in the monologue. but his words still weren’t true, he didn’t need to be fully conscious of it for him to be inauthentic. because he was trying to return the feelings of a completely nonexistent el, someone that was just born out of will’s speech to him. he loved the el that will described for him, an el that he might’ve loved if she actually felt that way about him, but el doesn’t really need him nor does he make her feel better for being different. and that’s why it wasn’t enough to manage to free el in time to save max and she suffers her biggest loss for the first time. because if love saving the day and freeing people is one of the biggest themes in the show, then why did they decide to ditch it this time and directly followed mike’s declaration of love with death and loss?

there was another common argument from milevens that i wanted to talk about and it’s that he apparently was already gonna say ily to el when they had that conversation in surfer boy pizza. even without considering the lack of romantic build up to that moment and mike, with lifeless and somber eyes, saying “i guess” and “i don’t know” way too much for it to sound romantic, a love confession from mike in that situation would have still happened in the context of will already having given his veiled love confession to him, since that happened after the van scene. meaning he would have still been motivated by will’s words and feelings, and this time, mileven actually would’ve been doomed faster because he had even more opportunity to bring up the painting. what if, right then and there, he was going to thank her for the painting, tell her how much it made him realize his “true” feelings for her, and used it as a way of making it known to her that he finally understood her and why she acted the way she did during their “last talk” (what with will even going into detail about el being mean to him because she was “scared of losing him”)? it would’ve been over for them immediately, and now it would just seem like they had mike interrupted in the middle of talking to delay the inevitable. this is why the moment will lied about the painting and it became the sole basis for the security and love mike felt in their relationship, the downfall of mileven was irrefutable. because the truth will inevitably come out and reward the person behind it all.

#starting to feel like im just constantly making the same posts about the painting and the monologue but reworded #but i need to drill it into people’s heads somehow...#byler #byler analysis #byler proof

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andydrysdalerogers · 6 months

Text

Sliding Into Home ~ The One with the World Series

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: Trial by Fire

Sliding Into Home Master List Main Masterlist

Two weeks later...

“I want to know.”

“So do I.”

“So why can’t we?”

“Because It’s too early for it to show up.”

“That seems stupid. Why are we here? You’re perfect.”

“I’m a mess.”

A chuckle. “But you’re my mess.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Frank kissed the top of Abby’s head. “You’re beautiful Cricket.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“You’re twelve weeks pregnant, Cricket.” Frank took her hand. “You’ve been nauseous every day for the last two weeks. Plus, the stress from the hearing wasn’t helping.”

“And you’re leaving,” she mumbled.

“Sweetheart, you know I don’t want to leave you. I have to go to work.”

“Stupid playoffs.”

Frank chuckled. Abby had always hated when the playoffs started because he would have to be on the road for five days at any time during the current series. They were starting in LA, the Dodgers having the best record in the West, facing off against Arizona. “Cricket, it’s gonna be fine. Marco and Scott will be home to help. Please, just take it easy, ok?”

Abby sighed. She knew this but it didn’t stop her anxiety. She thought back on the last couple of weeks.

Mike had been officially charged with kidnapping and endangerment since there were drugs found in his house. He was fighting it, of course, but now Frank and Abby had a protection order against him. He went back to Boston in custody, his bail revoked.

Diane pled no contest to her charges of assault and battery. The deal she made was to allow her to stay in treatment in Boston as long as she had no contact with Abby or Mike. She asked for a letter to be delivered before she accepted. Abby read the letter, Diane’s apologies all over it. Abby closed that chapter in her heart, grateful her friend had found peace and recovery.

Bobby Fuller was suspended pending a full investigation for his involvement with Frank’s incident in Vegas as well as helping Mike with the kidnapping. He made a statement, saying he was not going to fight any charges or decisions made by the league. He had earned what would happen to him after everything had concluded and offered his apologies to the Adler family.

Now, she was dealing with the playoffs and the push for Los Angeles to make it to the World Series once again. She came out of her thoughts as her doctor entered the room. “Hello Dr. Adler.”

“Hey Dr. Montgomery.”

“Mr. Adler,” she shook Frank’s hand. “Ready to start the playoffs?

“Absolutely Doc.” Frank flashed her a smile. “Game one tomorrow.”

“You better bring that trophy home,” she replied. “Now Abby, how are you feeling?”

“Nauseous and thirsty at the same time. Kinda weird.”

“Yeah, that happens. Any drowsiness, bloating, cravings?”

“A little bit of everything.” Abby smiled. “Just generally tired. Had back to back surgeries yesterday and then Mary decided it was time to learn a new hobby.” She gave Frank a pointed look.

“How did I know she wanted to learn the drums? She said she wanted to play an instrument.” Frank shrugged and gave his best boyish grin.

Dr. Montgomery chuckled. “Yeah, I can understand that. Well, your blood work came back great, your weight is on track for twelve weeks.”

“When will I pop?” Abby placed a hand over her belly. “Right now, I just feel big but Frank says I look the same.”

“No, I said you look beautiful,” Frank argued.

“Whatever.”

“Usually, moms pop their bellies closer to 15 or 16 weeks. Like I mentioned, your weight is great for twelve weeks. Now, are we ready to see baby?” Abby nodded. “Ok, scoot down, shirt under your breast and pants down a little. Sorry, this is a little cold.” She squirted gel onto Abby, grabbed the wand and rolled over her skin. Frank and Abby stared at the screen, just a mix of black, white and gray, until...

“There it is.” A little peanut shaped blob appeared. It was different from the first scan where it was just a blip of something. This time, a head was clearly taking shape. “That’s your baby.”

“It’s like a little peanut alien,” Frank said.

“Frankie,” Abby whined.

“What? Cricket, it’s a peanut. It's our...” he stopped as Dr. Montgomery turned on the sound and a rapid noise echoed in the room. “Is that...”

“Baby’s heartbeat. Its nice and strong, about 150 beats per minute, which is perfect.”

“They are perfect,” Abby breathed. A tear ran down her face.

“Cricket, what’s wrong?”

“I just thought with the stress, that I did something to the baby.”

Dr. Montgomery cleaned Abby up. “Abby, you are doing everything right. I know that the hearing was stressful, but everything is perfect. I don’t think you need an amniocentesis, so I would relax and enjoy.”

Abby nodded as Frank said, “thanks Doc.”

“Pictures will be up front, and I want to see you in four weeks. Good luck, Frank.”

As Abby and Frank made their way up, they started to talk about baby names. “I like Emily for a girl or Steven for a boy,” Abby said.

“I’m ok with Emily but Steven? Steve Adler?” Frank twisted his mouth in disgust.

“It sounds good.”

“No Cricket it doesn’t. How about Daniel?”

“Dan Adler? I mean, its ok.”

Frank sighed. “We have time right?”

“Yes, we do.” Abby leaned into him. “When are we going to announce this?”

“Let’s do it after the playoffs. You won’t be showing for a few more weeks, and we have the box, so you’ll be hidden.”

“Ok, now if we can only guarantee that Mary will keep her mouth shut,” Abby muses.

“That’s like asking Johnny not to call himself the ‘Human Torch’. Just impossible,” Frank smiled and kissed her head. “But keep dreaming.”

The Dodgers make it through the Wild Card and Division series, defeating The San Diego Padres and the Chicago Cub, respectively. Johnny had pitched a no hitter in the first game against the New York Mets, but a rouge bounce made Frank miss a ground ball in game two, letting the Mets win that game. Fortunately, the Dodgers held themselves together for games three and four and were sitting on the verge of their 13th World Series appearance.

Frank was pumped. He was already a two time World Series winner with Boston and he wanted to make his new team proud. They were away in New York, but it was Saturday, so his family and Abby’s parents were able to make the game.

Abby: No matter what, Mary, peanut and I love you so much Frankie. Good luck baby!

Frank smiled as he finished dressing. Johnny was also looking at his phone, smiling like a goofball. “What has gotten into you? Or should I say who?”

Johnny dropped his phone. He scrambled to pick it up. “Nothing, no one, what, wait, huh?”

Frank grabbed his chest and laughed so hard it brought attention from the entire team. “What is so funny Adler?” Mookie Betts asked.

“Johnny Storm, our own Human Torch, has a girl!” Frank said through gasps of air. “Pay up losers!”

Over half the team grumbled as they pulled out their wallets with Frank and a couple of others holding out their hands. “What the actual fuck is going on?” Johnny asked.

“I told the guys you were going to be infatuated with a girl. Thanks for this,” Frank holds up his hand holding up a few bills.

“You bet on me meeting a girl?”

“No, that’s a stupid bet. I bet you would fall for a girl. Told them I introduced you to one and said I think this is the one for him and Betts said there wasn’t a chance in hell and others agreed so we made a small yet rather fruitful wager.”

“You couldn’t have waited until the end of the season, could your Torch?” Betts slapped his back.

Johnny tried to be angry but instead smiled. “Hell no. Have you see her?” He showed off a picture of him and Katie together by the beach. “She is smart, gorgeous...”

“And should have no business with you,” Kershaw said. “She is smoking.”

“She likes baseball, hangs out with Mary and likes it and she...” he stopped himself. “Never mind. All I’m saying is that I hit the jackpot with my girl so you all can fuck off now.” He turned back to his locker to finish getting ready.

“$100 says he’s engaged if we win the World Series,” Kershaw says.

“No bet. I think he’ll do it at Christmas. More romantic,” Frank says. Johnny just flips them the bird and the team laughs.

The game is tense, but Johnny manages to throw only one hit the entire game. Mookie hits a grand slam and seals the Dodgers fate to another World Series. After the celebration in the locker room, Frank showers and heads out. He sees his wife, daughter and best friend in the family room, Mary asleep in her grandfather’s arms, Abby leaning against Scott and Susie in Marco’s lap. Johnny walked in right after and saw his sister. Before Johnny could say anything, Frank covered his mouth. “Shut up,” he whispered. ��

“That’s my sister,” Johnny pointed.

“Have you not noticed she been dating my brother in law?” Frank hissed. “Since the All Star game.”

“Seriously? I thought she was with that nerd Reed.”

Frank sighed and ran a hand over his face. “According to Abby, Reed said he didn’t have time to date because of some crap project about a cloud in space, who the fuck knows. Anyway, when everyone was trying to find Mary, I guess Susie broke down in the backyard and Marco comforted her. One thing led to another, and they started seeing each other in LA.”

Johnny looked at his sister. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

“Geez, I wonder,” Frank deadpanned.

“Yeah, alright, you don’t have to be a dick about it. Let’s take them to the hotel and get some sleep before we fly home.” He took another look at his sister. “She’s happy, and he’s a good guy?”

“I couldn’t trust anyone better to protect this family.”

The Dodger has two days off before they have to start their series with Boston. The irony was not lost on Frank. Playing the team that had traded him after missing the playoffs last year would either be glorious or gut-wrenching. They are starting on the road this time and Frank is nervous. Not for the game, but for the fact that Abby had now been dealing with a streak of morning sickness that left her pale, dehydrated and bedridden.

“Cricket, maybe I can miss the first game? Just until I know you are better.” He smoothed her hair away from her clammy forehead.

“Frankie, you can’t miss. Susie said she would stay with me and Nugget and Marco. Scottie and Steve are going to go and support. If I feel better, I’ll fly out with Mary for game two.”

“But...”

“No, Frank, this is your job. Win this, babe, and come home and finish it for me here in LA. I promise, if something is wrong, we will call. Your baby just likes to test me is all.”

Frank ran a hand through his hair. “The minute something is wrong?”

“You’ll be the first call, ok? I love you.”

He knelt next to the side of the bed. “I love you Peanut. Be nice to momma, ok?” He kissed her stomach and then kissed her forehead. “I love you, Cricket. So very much.” One last kiss, he grabbed his suitcase and was out the door.

Mary, Susie and Abby watched their boys play in Boston. They took game one with ease, Frank making a spectacular dive in the fourth for a double play. Johnny hit two homers in the ninth securing the win. Game two was a different story. Boston came to play, outscoring Los Angeles by ten. Abby flipped off the TV at the end of the game, tugging on Mary’s ponytail. “At least Frank hit it.”

“But they lost.”

“I know, but you have to look at the positives, Nugget. I’m sure Dad would appreciate it if we kept to the positives. It’ll make flying home easier.”

“I guess.” Mary shrugged. “I don’t remember Boston being that good.”

“Me neither.”

Frank and the rest of the team came home in a dejected state. Losing that hard took its toll but it just made the Dodgers want to work that much harder. He hadn’t mentioned it to Abby, but a couple of the Boston guys jeered at him when his was on base. Fans did too, during game two. It had messed with his head a little bit. Johnny had heard it and reminded Frank that he hadn’t chosen to leave Boston. It still stung.

The next three games were at home and the Dodgers took the lead after five, with spectacular performances from Kershaw and Storm. Betts hit homers in every game and Frank had two RBIs. Abby had been feeling better to attend the games, making Frank feel better knowing his girl was at the stadium with him.

Game six and the teams were back in Boston. It had been a close game, but Frank fouled up in the ninth allowing the winning run on base. But former Dodger Justin Turner would not be denied. He had come over during Frank’s trade and had something to prove. He launched a walk off rocket off a fast ball from Joe Kelly that went right over the famous Green Monster wall. Joe and the rest of the team walked off of the field with the crowd going absolutely wild in the background.

As Frank woke up on the day of game seven, he stared at the ceiling. This was the last day to prove to everyone that, despite the year of chaos he had, he was still the best at this game. He turned and looked at his beautiful wife. Abby’s hair cascaded down her naked back, finding comfort of no clothes during her fourteenth week of pregnancy. Frank moved a piece of hair that had fallen over her face back. Winning her back, completing his mission to marry the love of his life, he knew he had already won the year.

Abby curled more into his side and Frank wrapped his arm firmly around her. He could snooze for a few more before the chaos of the day began.

The game was tight and scoreless. Both teams were playing with no errors. It was the top of the ninth and Frank was on second, having a lucky bounce allowing him to get the double. Johnny was now at bat and had a two count. Frank took a small lead of the base and could see a fastball would be delivered. Johnny read it perfectly and it bounced in left field. Frank ran for third and the third base coach waved him through to home. Frank slid and beat the throw home.

Dodgers –1 – Boston – 0.

The next batter strikes out, but the damage has been done. It's up to the defense to hold off Boston for the next half of the inning. Johnny came in as relief to Kershaw and has been on his game all night. He quickly dispatches a batter but walked the next and now it's do or die for Boston. And Justin Turner is at bat.

Johnny settles, a shake of his head, then a nod, and let go of his patented fast ball. Strike. He gets the ball back and takes a breath. He looks at Frank, who gives him a reassuring nod and he turns back. Another nod and Johnny threw his change-up, leaving Turner swinging.

One more.

Johnny sets, rears back and lets go of the ball.

It's perfect.

Until the crack of the bat sounds.

And Frank watches as it sails over the right field wall.

Boston has won the World Series.

I'm sorry, don't kill me...

Taglist

@patzammit

@texmexdarling

@slutforchrisjamalevans

@firephotogrl74

@before-we-get-started

@tinkerbelle67

@bunnyforhim

@peaceinourtime82

#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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probsnothawkeye · 1 month

Text

I cant sleep so we're gonna talk about the new @souloperatorpod episode right now!! There will be spoilers as there always are but short review: I'm gonna commit acts of cartoon violence against a fictional character

Let's get started!

Let's start off on a positive which is that I love John-Michael Cassidy with my whole heart he's just a cowboy and he's great 🤠. 10/10 no one is doing it like him. I also really like Sandra but I do not fucking trust her. She's got a soothing an authoritative voice, milf energy for days, and so many secrets I'm sure of it. Why must Tot make me distrust a milf? Truly unfair. Also putting Tessa basically on public trial to make an example of her? Absolutely bullshit and even more reason not to trust Sandra idk what she's hiding but she IS

Fuck Austin. All my homies hate Austin. Where did he even come from? He's talking about how Tessa isn't part of the neighborhood but mate I have never heard of you before in my life you truly showed up just to be an antagonist and I will commit acts of cartoon violence. Especially for the slut shaming of Tessa and Nates friendship like yes I am a Tessa has 2 hands truther but that doesn't mean she's fucking these people! I love that Nate came to Tessa's defense and I love that John-Michael Cassidy got to punch Austin in the face.

I love you, John-Michael Cassidy.

Moving on in the episode I personally am never going to forgive Tot for Nate and Tessa's argument because that shit HURT TOT! I know I said you could do whatever you want forever but OUCH MAN WHY DID YOU DO THAT. Nate saying "You promised" before leaving BROKE ME. Mike LeBeau is delivering 10/10 voice acting as he always does but also Mike please my heart can't take it. Following that up with Tessa and Anisha talking and Anisha trying to her Tessa to understand why and how she fucked up I'm still screaming about it. Just. The whole vibe of it is Tessa thinking she's expendable and Nate and Anisha trying to prove to her she's not through caring for her in different ways and TESSA HAS TWO HANDS GODDAMMIT Tot I'm gnawing on these characters I love them so much

A fun fact for anyone who hasn't listened to Soul Operator yet: you can get through everything that's currently out in roughly 2 hours. We did a group listen in the The Grotto discord and it wasn't all that long so if you're looking for something short and amazing to sink your teeth into then you gotta check out Soul Operator it's so fucking good

I'm not just annoying about it because I promised Tot I would be, it truly is a phenomenal show and I would be annoying about it with or without promises PLEASE listen to Soul Operator its good for you

#soul operator #souloperatorpod #im so normal about this show (lying)#its really fucking good and episode 6 did irreparable things to my heart #pine throws thoughts into the void of tumblr

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demogordon · 2 years

Text

How Soon Is Now?

Pairing: Steve Harrington/GN Reader

Wordcount: 8.2k

Summary: Over the course of eight months, Steve finds himself falling in love.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: language, implied AFAB!Reader, lightly implied nudity, some hurt/comfort, reader gets kissed on a date and isn’t entirely thrilled about it, light Stancy mentions, implied Neurodivergent!Reader

Notes: I’ve been writing this for three weeks now, it’s become much longer than I anticipated. Happy Volume 2 Eve, everyone.

----

Dustin Henderson’s instructions had been very specific. On December 15th, the night of the Snow Ball, Steve was to pick him up at eight-thirty. Not eight-twenty-nine, not eight-thirty-one, eight-thirty. Dustin wanted to arrive fashionably early to a party which started at nine, for which he had nothing in particular to be excited about.

Steve was to take him to the dance. Not like, take him-take him, like drop him there and then buzz off and make himself scarce until eleven-thirty, when the dance would be over. Then he had to pick Dustin up and deliver him back home in one piece.

It was a bit contrived and over complicated, but Steve knew his scheduled dates and his times all too well, even double checking that this would all take place during the p.m. and not the a.m. Dustin had stared incredulously at him for a full and very silent thirty seconds before blinking once and nodding.

When he gets Dustin’s frantic call on December 8th and can’t get Dustin to relax for the life of him, Steve nearly descends into cardiac arrest, especially when he can’t get the kid on the other end to calm the fuck down enough to explain a single word. After a solid two minutes of the both of them near hyperventilating, Dustin finally spits out, “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“What?”

“I said I don’t have anything to wear.”

“No. No, I heard you. I just don’t follow.”

“I need you to take me to Maureen’s. In downtown. It’s on South Main Street.” Steve knows Maureen’s. It’s practically the only place in Hawkins for formal attire, a tiny boutique run by Maureen Angelos, a shrunken and ancient woman who was, despite a sour appearance, extremely kind and just a hair shy of too helpful.

Steve had gone there for every single nice article of clothing he ever needed, including his suit for junior prom. He really didn’t want to think about junior prom because he went with Nancy and when he saw her standing there, in a satiny pink dress, huge eyes reflecting the tiny glass lights around the room, he’d decided he was going to marry her. That was all bullshit now. But he doesn’t tell any of that to Dustin.

Instead he says, “I know Maureen’s. Why do you need me to take you?”

“You’re gonna know what looks cool! If you don’t go, then it’s gonna be my mom and you know what she’s like!” Claudia Henderson, despite being one of the nicest women in town, was also one of the most dowdy and frilly. She would likely force Dustin into some awful but very fluffy sweater, printed all over with piss-yellow argyles and little pink cats. Steve can actually picture the sweater and he’s pretty sure it’s because he’s seen her wear it around town.

“Yeah, okay. What time?”

“Now’s good.” With an eye roll, Steve affirms, and then hangs up as he rolls off of his bed onto his feet. He’s mostly spent these past few weeks lounging around feeling bad for himself, drinking more alcohol than usual with melancholy fervor, and being harassed by Dustin. He doesn’t actually mind the last one. He really likes Henderson and all of his friends. Most of his friends.

He can’t look at Mike, he looks so damn much like Nancy that it hurts his chest and then he gets convinced that he’s having dysrhythmia and lays down to die only to discover that what hurts isn’t actually physical enough to kill him. And the bowl cut kid, the one who went missing a year ago, is so gentle that Steve’s hurt when he thinks about Jonathan Byers swallows itself by the tail, so while he does like Will, he doesn’t want to spend much time with him. Steve feels selfish for it but he wants to cling onto his pain. It’s really all he has right now.

Steve sort of zones out as he drives, passing places he used to haunt when he was really just a vapor of a person, held together by loutish ego and hairspray. Tommy Hagan’s worn down front door, surrounded by overgrown hedge, where the pair of them snuck beers and cigarettes back in the sixth grade. Carol Perkins’s front yard where the trio of them (Steve, Tommy, and Carol) used to practice using their best swear words. The parking lot of the local church, where he and Tommy used to do doughnuts every winter, which somehow never killed them. The park, where he and Tommy and Carol and whoever Steve was having sex with at the time and maybe Tina or Nicole or somebody used to loiter for hours until Chief Hopper would show up, half drunk and half wild and all delirious and yell at them to, “Go the fuck home!”

Dustin is waiting for him on his doorstep, practically vibrating from anticipation. Steve tries to bring himself to be annoyed that he’s been demanded out of his house on a Saturday afternoon when he’s actually maybe still a little hungover from his one-too-many pity beers last night, but he couldn’t possibly. Weirdly enough, Dustin Henderson is the closest thing Steve has to a real friend right now and it makes him happy to see him bounce his way into the car with the fervor of a puppy that’s been let off of its leash. He shuts the door a little too loudly for Steve’s beer-headache and if he notices Steve’s wince, he doesn’t say anything.

The drive to Maureen’s is chatty. Dustin likes to talk. Steve also likes to talk but when he’s with Dustin, he mostly listens, which he likes. He didn’t ever know he was a good listener until about a month ago, when he started hanging out with Dustin. Steve parallel parks just out front of Maureen’s, which Dustin is excited about, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him feel a little more like his old self. Not the bad one, but the good one, the confident one.

In the store, Maureen hobbles over and borderline clings to Steve’s arm and rests her whole body weight against him as she hoarsely asks what they need help finding. Steve tells her truthfully that they don’t need any help and pulls Dustin along to look at the dress shirts, of which there are a surprising amount in a whole array of colors. Dustin’s first pick is brown and patterned with abstract purple paisley. When Steve grimaces, Dustin shoves it back.

Green and yellow is a no. So is the fuschia one. So is the plaid one. And the carmine and cornflower one. Steve eventually starts shifting through the shirts in Dustin’s size himself, finally settling on a turquoise blue one. He produces it and holds it up in front of the kid, who looks at him skeptically.

“You have blue eyes, yeah? This one will look good.”

After a few minutes, Dustin steps out of the tiny changing booth to show him. After Steve gives his approval, Dustin averts his eyes sheepishly and asks, “Can you tell me how to tie a tie?”

Steve pulls two ties off of a nearby rack, to which Dustin starts. “A bow tie.”

So Steve grabs two bow ties and drapes one over the back of his neck and hands the other to Dustin. Steve shows him, once slowly: cross over, wrap up and over, wrap down and under, loop around, pull out the sides to present a bow. Then he watches Dustin try it several times. He gets it right and then unties it to do it again.

The bells tied to the door jingle as it opens. Steve can hear Maureen slowly ambling over and in a harsh whisper, asking how she can help. And then, clear as day, the sound of you, laughing and your voice.

Steve’s stomach drops to his toes. His blood gets cold but his face is unbearably hot and suddenly he’s sweating all over, probably through his shirt, even though it’s December in goddamn Indiana. He glances over at the full length mirror, suddenly wishing he could check up on how he looks, but Dustin is in front of the mirror, retying his tie for the fifth time now. Steve remembers that he has a bow tie tied around his own neck and goes to take it off as fast as he can, but before he can even start—“Hey, Steve!”

“Hey,” Steve says, trying and failing to act cool. You beam at him and yeah, he gets why they call it that now, because your smile is so bright and warm it makes him want to melt. It actually makes his knees liquefy just a tad, so he shifts a little so you don’t notice how weak his legs have suddenly become.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, and he wishes it hadn’t come out sounding so accusatory and he semi winces, but you only smile wider, which he didn’t think was even possible.

“I’m getting shoes for the Winter Concert.” At his clear confusion, you add, “For choir. At school. I’m in the show choir.”

“Oh.” He laughs and it comes out more like letting out a heavy exhale. You look at him expectantly for a second and it doesn’t click until it does. “Oh! Yeah, I’m here with Dustin. Getting stuff for the Snow Ball.”

“I like your tie,” you say. He glows and he’s sure you can see it on his face, that he’s lit up like a glow worm.

He’s known you for a while. During that winter of ‘83, you were a force to be reckoned with, fierce and fiery. Only seventeen and a half hours after he watched you beat the shit out of whatever in God’s name that thing was, you showed up on his doorstep with an approximate fuckton of homemade chocolate chip cookies for him and Nance along with a promise that you were always ready to lend an ear and slash or be a friend. Steve hadn’t taken you up on it much and sometimes he regretted that.

This past month, he’s had his ass handed to him in front of you by Billy goddamn Hargrove, for whom you had many choice words (“He’s so fucking, he’s just, fuck!” So mad you were borderline shaking even hours later as the group bundled up after the gate’s closure). You also smashed several of the gross, weird dog creature things, pinning them down after whacking them with the biggest kitchen knife he had ever seen and stomping on their skulls with your chunky Doc Marten boots. He questioned your method of using a knife as a bludgeon but he couldn’t deny that it had worked. You’d beaten a dog thing half to death after kicking it off of him and then helped him up off his ass with a surprising amount of strength. And to cap it all off, you’d comforted him a bit about Nancy, providing solace for his bruised and beaten heart.

Because of your far from standard badassery, you know his biggest and worst secret: Steve is not cool. He’s so uncool that it hurts and you’re so fucking cool that he can’t stand it.

“Uh, when is this Winter Concert?”

“It’s on the fifteenth at 8:30. It goes until about 9:30 ish.” Your eyes are full of something that Steve can’t quite read. Excitement, maybe? Apprehension? He’s about to confirm that he will absolutely be there, front row, wielding a giant sign with your name and maybe whatever your jersey number is on it, when Dustin pipes up from the mirror.

“That’s when the Snow Ball is! It starts at 9:00. Steve’s my ride,” he says, almost absently, like he’s just been reminded of the upcoming event. It’s almost imperceptible, but Steve swears he sees your face fall before you remember not to let it.

“Well, you guys have fun, I’ve got to, uh, shoes. I’ll see you around!” You say, very hurriedly dashing off. Steve lifts his hand in a tiny wave that you don’t see but someone else does.

“So that’s what acting like you don’t care looks like.” Steve shoots Dustin a sharp look before ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Come on, smart guy, let’s get your shit and go home.”

A week later, Steve is exactly punctual. Dustin is not. Steve knocks on the Henderson’s door and is ushered inside where he waits for him next to the front door, with Claudia ambling around just generally trying to make herself seem busy. When Dustin dashes to the door, his hair is Farrah-Fawcett-fluffy and his bow tie is tied neatly at his throat.

Steve offers parting words of advice to his small child friend and waits to make sure he makes it into the building and catches a glimpse of Nancy. She’s as beautiful as she’s always been, as most people are. Seeing her makes his stomach hurt and that feeling doubles down when he glances at his dashboard clock. 9:01. On a sudden impulse, Steve puts it in reverse and floors it across the way towards Hawkins High.

9:12. Every goddamn person in town must be at this thing because Steve is struggling to find any open space. When he finally gets himself nestled into a spot that’s probably a hair too small, Steve shuts off his car and leaps out, almost slipping on the tar of the parking lot. He sees the gym doors, glowing light peeking out and races toward them. He opens the door and tiptoes into the building, somehow managing to avoid causing a distraction as the guy who must be the choir teacher yammers into the microphone. Steve isn’t really listening to him as he stands to the side of the bleachers, tucked out of the way.

You have a dress on. It’s deep green, school colors, and hangs past your knees but he can see the pair of black flats you must have gotten that day at Maureen’s. They're the pretty kind that have ties around your ankles. You fidget your feet uncomfortably like you’re still not used to them. As soon as the director stops speaking, your head snaps up like you’re worried someone caught you not paying attention. Probably nobody even noticed except for Steve.

When your group’s last song starts, Steve doesn’t recognize it even faintly. But it's pretty. He can’t even hear anybody but you.

----

If you’re under the age of sixteen, you have to be accompanied by someone over the age of sixteen to be allowed to rent roller skates, Max explains to him. That’s why Steve has to come with her and why she can’t just come by herself. Even if her friends were coming, which they’re not, since Fridays are their D&D night (whatever that means), they couldn’t get skates by themselves anyway. Besides, it wasn’t like he really had anything better to do, something that Max made a point to remind him of.

The new roller rink in Hawkins blares neon at all hours of the day, even after its 11:30 p.m. closing time, but now, at 8:45 on a Friday night in mid April, it’s crowded to its limits. Max bounces ahead of Steve, not waiting up for him as he wobbles his way clumsily towards the floor. He’d thought since he’d always been so athletic—assigned the prestigious role of co-captain of the Hawkins High swim team for two years running and captain of the basketball team, and though they didn’t win their championship, he was their star player—he would never have any trouble with any sort of athletic feat. He has since been proven wrong.

Steve feels like a confused baby deer, knees buckling and thighs wobbling and he clings to the railing as soon as he reaches it. Max finally spares him a backwards glance and does an obligatory and very Maxish eye roll before she skates back over to him seamlessly. She holds out her hand and the moment Steve takes it, she yanks him along at top speed. He flails wildly, off balance immediately, but she is completely unfazed. Max is not very big. Steve should be far more difficult for her to tow without even really breaking much of a sweat, but she is nonchalant while flinging him around like a ragdoll. .

With no warning, his left knee crumbles inward and Steve lets go of her hand to catch himself on his palms and his right knee, which jarrs his limbs incredibly painfully. He scrambles up to his feet, slipping and very nearly falling again before hoisting himself up to anchor to the rail. Max pauses.

“You need to balance your weight fully on the balls of your feet and bend your knees. You push off with your foot and then bring it back to the ground and glide.” She demonstrates, like it’s the easiest thing in the entire world. Steve lets go of the railing and immediately pitches forward again and in his attempt to not smash his face into the ground, he twists and lands harshly on his ass.

“Fuck!” Steve yelps, barely noticing the word coming out of his mouth as Max is overcome with sudden impish glee.

“Hey!” She shouts at someone behind him, behind the railing. She waves wildly, before poking Steve with her toe brake. He isn’t really all that enthused to look like an embarrassing doofus in front of one of Max’s kid friends, most of whom he actually knows pretty well. He’ll never hear the end of it from any of those kids, except maybe the little one with the bowlcut. Steve sulks a bit, not wanting to be noticed by whoever it is that Max is so excited to see. Max turns her attention back to him and snaps, “Are you gonna get up, Steve?”

Steve grabs back onto the safety rail and hauls himself upward and leans back cooly against the rail. Then and only then does he turn to see whoever Max’s friend is. When he realizes it’s you, Steve wants to retreat into himself as hard as he can, like a very embarrassed turtle. He hopes that you didn’t just see him fall and maybe you didn’t because you’re grinning like you're excited to see him and not like you just watched him make a complete and utter fool of himself. He’s about to let out a deep breath he’s been holding when Max pipes up right as you arrive next to him through garish yellow railing.

“Did you see Steve just eat absolute shit?”

You laugh as Steve kicks at her with no real force behind it.

“I did not. Maybe I’ll get an encore performance.” Your eyes are squinty and happy. You’re teasing him and Steve feels fire swallow him up from the pit of his belly to the tips of his ears. Max looks at him very pointedly, as if she’s trying to communicate something extra with just her eyes.

“Can you promise not to break any bones while I go race with those guys over there?” Steve gives her a thumbs up after assessing Max’s acquaintances and deciding she’ll be perfectly safe. She takes off immediately. Zoomer.

When he turns, you’re gone and he thinks for a horrible moment that you’ve left and now he’s going to huddle in the corner until he has to peel Max away at closing time. Then he sees you looping through one of the openings in the railing to head over to him and all is right again. Then he realizes you’re probably here with someone and his heart seizes up again. Steve tries to say something to you, but when he opens his mouth, absolutely nothing comes out. He probably looks like a gobsmacked goldfish. He closes his mouth.

“So you’re here with Max?” He’s glad that you can act like a person when he can’t.

“Yeah. What about you?” In his mind he crosses his fingers that it isn’t a date, please don’t let it be a date, please, seriously, he won’t ask for anything else if you aren’t on a date.

“Oh, I’m here with Kevin. You know Kevin, right?” Steve knows Kevin. Steve has known Kevin since the eighth grade, when he watched Kevin cut his gums while biting his toenail on a dare. Steve does not like Kevin and it is actually mostly unrelated to the whole toenail thing.

Almost as if on cue, Kevin comes hurtling over with one large paper cup full of something and a bag of popcorn. He flings the cup into your hands over the railing. From this angle, Steve can see it’s full of blue Slurpee, but also from his very close proximity, he can smell that there is a lot of alcohol mixed into it, which he assumes Kevin brought from home. You delicately hand it back to him, pointing at the “NO FOOD OR DRINKS PERMITTED ON SKATING FLOOR” sign. He accepts it back fairly graciously, which Steve finds a little surprising. The silence between you, the three of you, is incredibly tense and awkward until a voice booms over the loudspeaker, announcing the hourly couple’s skate. Steve’s eyes meet yours but he looks away before you say anything at all. Instead, Kevin shoves both the popcorn and the drink into Steve’s arms before leaping over the rail and somehow not killing himself in the process. As Kevin takes you to the center of the rink and Foreigner’s gentle love ballad (I Want to Know What Love Is) begins to play, you look back at him and give him the softest smile he’s ever seen.

Through the entirety of the song, which is maybe the longest four minutes and fifty-one seconds of Steve’s entire life, you keep glancing over at him. Every single time, he knows you find him already looking at you, but he can’t take his eyes off of you, not when he wants to catch your gaze every time. And it’s because he’s looking so insistently that he catches the end of the song, when Kevin pulls you into his chest tightly, caging you in his arms, and kisses you. You push away after only a few seconds and look a bit frazzled, and you skate off of the rink pretty frantically, not looking at him. Steve’s stomach drops like he’s on a roller coaster but in a bad way. Kevin very nonchalantly comes over to take back his contraband.

“What’s their problem?” He punctuates his sentence with a very loud slurp of his cocktail. Steve shakes his head and starts taking slow, careful roller skate steps in your direction, guiding himself with the rail. He can feel Kevin watching him the entire time, a look of incredulousness on his face. Steve doesn’t actually really care all. He’s focused on getting to where you are, now alone at a little table near the west side wall, which is one giant window. He almost makes it.

Letting go of the railing, he continues slow, small steps, but starts getting anxious to go faster, to get over to you and check on you. Steve hopes you aren’t crying. He doesn’t want you to cry. He’s so focused on hoping that you’re not crying that he missteps. He knows you see this time, as he careens directly into the ground. He hits his forearm pretty hard and his jaw knocks against something, causing his teeth to all clash together. For a second, he’s decided to just stay there forever so he never has to face you again, when he sees your feet, your roller skates, come into his field of vision. You kneel down next to him.

“Are you okay?” You’re genuinely concerned until he nods, and then you start laughing so hard that you’re shaking and then you do his favorite thing in the whole world, which is when you lose control of your giggle fits and you snort, which always makes you giggle even harder. He can’t help but laugh too as you help him shift into a sitting position. You’re laughing and it’s so not mean and you didn't even laugh at all until you made sure he wasn’t really hurt and that makes him laugh, because he’s fine and you’re not even put off by his extreme lack of grace.

“We have got to get these death traps off of you, Steve,” you say, pinching the toe of his skate and wiggling it. The intimacy of you untying his shoe and sliding it off is not lost on him. As soon as his skates are off, you take yours off too, swatting his hand when he tries to unlace them for you. Your date with Kevin is all but forgotten, but Steve has never been known for his tact, so he immediately brings it up.

“Are you okay?” You look almost confused for a second.

“I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You sort of flew over here, you know, after…” Steve trails off, looking at you expectantly. You shift into a sitting position on the floor next to him, wiggle your feet to get them to wake back up, God, your circulation is awful, and then you scrunch your nose.

“It wasn’t like, terrible or anything, you know. He just didn’t ask first. And he was holding me too tight, which I really,” you sigh. “You know how I feel about that.” Steve does. You told him one time that when you get hugged too tight, you feel like a teeny tiny little mouse getting suffocated by a boa constrictor, except inside your chest and lungs and around your heart.

“Plus, he really didn’t smell very good,” you say, frowning, which makes Steve bark out a laugh. You elbow him gently but pointedly in his side, reminding him to Be Nice.

“Sorry, sorry! I just wasn’t expecting you to say that,” he says, grinning. It drops a little when he asks, “But seriously. Are you okay? Did that, you know, hurt you?” He wants to kick himself. He knows it didn’t physically hurt you, obviously. But-

“No. I’m okay. I mostly just felt stuck, and that’s why I ran off so fast. Thanks for checking on me, though.”

“Any time.” Steve really wants to tell you that he thinks you look really pretty and that he thinks that Kevin is an idiot, especially for not listening to you, but he’s cut off by someone else plunking down on his other side. Thankfully, it’s just Max.

“What’s up?”

“It’s all just couples making out now. Can we go home?” Steve smiles and gets up on his sock feet. When he holds out his hand to help you up, he sees that you’re gazing off into space. Oh, actually you’re not though, you’ve just noticed that goddamn Kevin has found some other girl to skate with and is not at all bothered by your absence. You look a little bit hurt and he can’t stand seeing that look on your face so Steve nudges your cheek gently with his knuckles and you jump a little before grabbing hold of his hand and letting him help you up.

“Do you need a ride home?” Max asks you. “Steve can take you.”

And Steve takes you home. And then he takes Max home. If she’d noticed anything about you or your date or about Steve in the past few hours, she doesn’t let on. Once Max is safely inside her front door, Steve drives back through the other side of town, ready to collapse face first into his pillow.

And when he drives past the roller rink again, still neon and bright, he sees Kevin, now outside with that other girl. The two of them are sitting on the curb, sharing his popcorn and looking up at the stars and they’re smiling and some of Steve’s dislike of Kevin fades away a little, but he’s not entirely sure why. He just keeps driving home.

----

The pool has been under construction for months. Steve had been working there over summers since his freshman year of high school but a combination of reasons kept him from coming back for the upcoming months. For one, Hargrove got a job there and he can’t imagine trying to converse with him civilly after he tried to kill Steve and at least two of his young charges. For two, his father wanted him to work in the food service industry, something Richard Harrington considered to be far more demeaning than almost any other job. Steve didn’t particularly agree, but he’s really only one fight with his dad away from an eviction notice so he doesn’t point that out.

It’s the first Friday after the end of the 1985 school year. Steve’s young friends want him to take them to the pool now that it’s open again. It was the day before Henderson was supposed to go off to summer camp in the middle of nowhere. So Steve has agreed to take them, although he did make sure to mention it more than once to you so that he could make sure that you ended up there at the same time.

Steve ushers in the whole group, Mike and Will and Max and Lucas and Dustin and is immediately disappointed that the pool is A) incredibly crowded and B) there is absolutely no sign of you anywhere. He’s instantly huffy and mopes all the way over to a miraculously unoccupied pool chair, which he flings himself into with a dramatic sigh. At least from here he can keep an eye on his kids. Steve uncaps his sunscreen and covers his whole torso, his arms and his legs before realizing that he won’t be able to cover his own back. He pouts harder before pulling his t-shirt back on.

After about a half an hour, Dustin comes over to his chair, dripping with water and the smell of chlorine, and pokes Steve in his belly.

“Why are you so sulky? Is it ‘cause your lady friend isn’t here yet?” Steve shoots up from his theatrical recline (in case you walk in at any minute so you can see him from his best angle) to glare daggers at him.

“First off, I’m not sulking.” He absolutely is. “And even if I was sulking, which I am not, it wouldn’t be because my lady friend isn’t here.” It absolutely is. “I don’t even know who you’re talking about.” He absolutely does.

“Whatever, you don’t have to be such a weirdo about it,” Dustin scolds.

“I’m not,” Steve insists, punctuated with an eye roll. He stretches out, arms overhead, groaning quietly as his spine cracks in several spots. Dustin crinkles his nose at him with a frown.

“Staring isn’t gonna just make them appear out of nowhere.”

“You don’t know that,” Steve says, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to know who Dustin was talking about. Dustin mimes jamming his index finger hard down his throat and exaggerated vomiting. The message is clear. Henderson finds his gooeyness utterly nauseating. Steve does too actually.

He watches the gate for hours, waiting for you to walk in, lower belly tied in knots and palms sweating profusely. Every passing minute makes it clearer that you aren’t coming this time but he keeps hoping and hoping and hoping. He gets dragged in the water for a bit and tries to turn his mind off and just enjoy himself. It doesn’t entirely work but he does manage to have some fun, even when Mike pushes him over in the deep end in a very clear assassination attempt that sends a fuckton of water up his nose.

Even as he’s ushering his crowd of kids who are still too wet to get in the car, he’s on his tiptoes craning his neck to search around the parking lot for any trace of you. The kids clamor as he shoves them unceremoniously back into the car, Dustin and Lucas spending a full minute arguing over who gets to ride shotgun until Max gives Lucas a dirty look that sends him scrambling to the backseat with her.

Steve is moodily quiet as he drives home and drops all of his kids off. He saves Dustin for last. The kid scowls at him as they pull up to his house.

“Do me a favor, Steve, and get this shit figured out before I come back. You have a month.” He doesn’t have to clarify what shit he’s referring to. Steve swats his friend on his shoulder affectionately, punctuated with an eye roll. Dustin takes the swat with grace, using it to propel himself out of the car door.

“Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Steve calls out through his unrolled window as Dustin walks toward his front door. Dustin responds with a thumbs up and his typical sugary toothless grin. Steve is really going to miss him, even if he is annoying sometimes and thinks he knows everything despite being fourteen. He’s still thinking about it as he pulls into his driveway which is how he misses you at first.

You’re sitting on Steve’s front step. Your knees are all tucked up into your chest and you’re picking at your fingernails. As much as Steve had spent the day looking for you everywhere, he had to do a double take to make sure it was really you and not his brain inventing visions of you where you weren’t.

When you hear the car you jolt and look up and when you realize that it is in fact, Steve, and not his parents, you shoot to your feet, fidgeting nervously. Steve rushes to park his car and unclip his seat belt and open the door, tripping over his feet on his way over to meet you. You launch at him, screeching to a halt before making contact sort of like you aren’t sure if you should touch him.

“I’m so sorry, Steve! I wanted to go, I promise I had a good reason not to!” It’s like Steve’s stomach melts all the way onto the sidewalk like bubblegum ice cream and he can’t help but smile at you as he lights up inside like the fourth of July.

“That’s cool,” Steve says, his voice cracking in the middle of it. “Um, I’m feeling pretty worn out after all the sun today. Did you wanna come grab a bite with me?”

He stumbles over his words, but it doesn't seem to matter because you bounce on your toes excitedly, scrunching your nose as you smile. He opens the passenger side door for you, letting you duck under his arm. When he hops in on his side, he glances at you. He expects to find you staring absently out the window, zoned out in that way you get but he finds you already looking at him. The sunset is practically assaulting your eyes, giving their color an almost orange hue, and you squint a little before pulling down the visor on your side.

“Where were you thinking?” Steve asks, forgetting briefly that he asked you to get food with him. You chew the inside of your cheek thoughtfully as you consider your options. Hawkins doesn’t have a lot of choices, especially now that Benny’s old place has been forcibly reformed into a party house. Steve’s already making his way toward the only other diner in town when you relax back into your seat.

“I dunno, probably Hawkins Roadside.” Hawkins Roadside is a reformed train car open 24/7 that offers a menu of the greasiest food in existence with the added bonus of minimal seating. It’s usually decently busy, but it usually gets crowded later in the evening when the party kid’s munchies catch up with them and the high schoolers head out on cheap first dates. It’s 8:00 p.m. or so on May 31 so the sun is descending, which means that the two of you would have at least two hours or so before Roadside gets busy but Steve has a heavy suspicion that their business is about to tank because of the new mall downtown. When he parks, he hops out quickly and does a dorky little half jog around to your side to open the door for you.

It’s empty except for the two of you. The girl behind the counter, probably just a couple years older than Steve, aggressively chews on her gum while she sizes you up, probably deciding how much trouble the two of you will cause for her. She decides the answer is none. Steve is too focused on reminding himself that this is not a date and this is just a casual friend thing. And you, for your part, are usually pretty disarming.

You aren’t exactly a picky eater but fatty food really isn’t your thing. You get a cobb salad and turn down Steve’s offer of fries or splitting a milkshake. He does keep sneaking fries onto your plate when you aren’t looking at him, though. He gets that opportunity a lot. You don’t like making eye contact very much and you zone out pretty frequently. During the middle of one of his covert operations, you turn your head back from the window that’s captured your attention and catch him red handed, hand over your plate, french fry in his fingers. At your raised eyebrow, Steve chuckles awkwardly.

“I didn’t want you to be hungry.”

“Thank you,” you say, eyes teasing as you duck your head a little to take the fry from him with your teeth. Steve leaves his hand outstretched for way too long afterwards, staring at you owlishly. That was totally normal of you so why does he feel so weird about the way your lips semi grazed his fingers? When he realizes he’s still holding his arm out like an idiot, he jerks it back like he’s been burned. You don’t seem to notice.

“So what kept you today?” Steve asks, trying to be nonchalant about his disappointment. You immediately make a face that reminds him of a guilty puppy.

“Sorry. I wanted to go, really. I just didn’t feel all that comfortable going to a public pool. I, uh, I can’t swim.” Steve perks up.

“I can swim!” You tilt your head to one side. “I mean, I can swim, so I could teach you.”

“Maybe.” You’re a little bit coy about it. “I don’t know how I feel about going to the public pool, to be completely honest with you.”

“I have a pool. We-we wouldn’t have to go to the public pool.” Steve hasn’t gotten in his pool since November of 1983. The night with Nancy and with Barbara. He hasn’t been able to stomach it, thinking about how selfish he had been at that time and how a girl had fucking died in his backyard while he was busy getting his rocks off with a pretty girl. He’s always blamed himself for what happened to Barbara and it didn’t ever help that Nancy started building a resentment for him over it, truly believing him to be responsible. He’s never said any of this to you.

Your eyes narrow at him like you know there’s something that he isn’t telling you and you reach out and take his hand in both of yours. You don’t push it though, just hold onto his hand. Steve’s palm starts to sweat and he hopes that you don’t notice. You run your thumbs over the back of his hand.

“Maybe we can do that sometime.” Sometime.

Sometime doesn’t actually come. Only about a month later, Dustin is bursting into Scoops Ahoy with a secret Russian transmission and a dictionary and then, well, the rest is pretty hazy. Something about getting trapped in an elevator for several hours and truth serum and Alex P. Keaton trying to bang his mom. Shit’s complicated.

Dustin talks about Steve finding his Suzie and Steve thought that maybe he did, but Robin is not that girl even if he wishes she was, if only because she isn’t as scary as you are.

Ambulances wail in the parking lot and Steve is half deaf for the sound of car alarms. As the pair of them sit side by side, finally losing the end of their truth serum highs, wrapped in thick shock blankets, Robin smiles softly. Its to herself, sort of like a secret.

“Harrington, you know what you were saying in the bathroom earlier?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t need me to be your Suzie. You already have yours.” Robin bumps his shoulder with her own.

You’re across the way in his field of vision, hair plastered with blood and Upside Down critter goop, cuts along your face and arms, bruises swelling the side of your face. You’re still smiling as you talk to Officer Callahan, who seems to be exhausted by the evening. When you catch him staring at you, you wave at him. He waves back and then winces because his entire body feels like it went through a trash compactor.

“No,” Steve sighs, forgetting not to let his daydreams seep out of his head and into his voice. “I have better.”

----

Mid August has no right to be as hot as it is. Sweat crawls down Steve’s back even as the sun begins its slow descent over the West. Lucas stands on the opposite end of the outdoor basketball court, hunched over with his hands on his thighs trying to catch his breath. They’ve been playing for hours and the kid is good, absolutely good enough to make the team in a few weeks. Sinclair makes him feel old, like his back is ancient. It doesn’t help that his left eye has only just completely stopped hurting constantly. It woke him up pretty much every night, throbbing violently, for weeks after the Battle of Starcourt, long after the bruise had faded and the hyphema had healed. The concussion had been harder to shake.

When Steve tried to shower and scrub the caked-on dry blood a few hours after he got home, he’d had a repeat movie theater bathroom incident, where looking up at the ceiling had made him immediately nauseous and he’d slipped down to his knees as his stomach tried to evacuate its contents. It made him feel pathetic and stupid, having to call you and say, “I can’t take a shower.” He hadn’t even entertained the idea of asking anyone else to help him, even if it felt more embarrassing.

Steve hadn’t had to explain or ask for your help. You were over less than fifteen minutes later, dimming his bathroom lights and running the faucet, asking him how hot he likes the water. You’d tilted his chin up just enough to help him rinse his hair, creating a barrier between his hairline and his face with your hand to keep soap out of his eyes. And for weeks when he was up all night with violent headaches, you stayed up with him until the pain diminished enough for him to slip out of consciousness. He’d lay across your lap and you’d stroke his hair which would eventually relax him just enough to feel a dull ache.

Steve actually really hates that because it has to come to an end eventually. He’s kind of been able to trick his brain up until this point into thinking that this was enough for him and that he didn’t endlessly wish for more. That he didn’t endlessly wish that he could curl up asleep in your arms in a non platonic type of way that was because you really wanted to hold him and not because he was sick with pain.

Steve’s head is starting to hurt and his stomach is starting to swim up into his chest. He hopes that Sinclair calls this shit soon because he can’t admit that he suffers from as much pain as he does. He’s still supposed to be the protector.

They play a bit longer. Lucas is so excited about tryouts but so nervous that he’s practically vibrating over it. He keeps mentioning Max, like that maybe Max will come see his games and maybe she’ll let him back in. Steve has a suspicion that the second part has nothing to do with the basketball team at all.

“She’ll come around. She’s been through a hell of a lot. I mean, we all have, but she’s never fully understood the way that people are there for each other,” Sinclair says, dribbling the ball around Steve, heading up for a layup. Max will come around. She just needs to relearn trust and emotional intimacy.

When Steve gets home, he’s so exhausted that he falls asleep with his jeans still on, collapsing into his bed, ready for an intensive dreamless sleep. He’s wrong though, instead haunted by the fear of what happens the second he stops being alert enough to watch out for the others. His kids, his friends, his you, everyone in danger and nothing he can even do about it. As much as he wishes he could, Steve can’t make the Upside Down go away.

Steve jolts awake. His head starts throbbing the second he sits up, and he ends up just sort of sliding off of his bed and curling into a sad little ball on his bedroom floor, tucking his head underneath his bed because it's darker there. He’s sweating and hot but also clammy and shaky and he needs someone to come help him or to come and care about him. When he was little, he used to crawl into his mom’s bed and bury himself into the covers, regardless of if she was there but he’s grown out of that habit. Now he wiggles enough to reach the landline next to his bed and dial a number that has become endlessly familiar to him.

“Hello?” Just the sound of your voice makes him feel better, like he can breathe a little easier and like he has something to focus on other than his now spotty vision. .

“Hey.”

“What’s up, Steve? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says and there’s a pause at the other end of the line. He pictures you twirling the cord around your finger

“Scale of one to ten?”

“Seven and a half.”

“I’ll be right there.” It’s only at the disconnected click that Steve checks the clock on the wall and finds that it's 1:34 in the morning. Twelve minutes later, there’s a soft tap on the front door. It's a formality. You know where the spare key is.

“Oh, sweetheart,” you say as you tiptoe into his room. Steve knows he looks a mess, still on the floor, rumpled and sad and scared. You help him off the floor and back into his bed and then reach out and stroke his hair. If it were anyone else, he’d tell them that hair is off limits, but you’re you and that makes you special. You tug on his arms and he lifts them up, allowing you to help him tug his shirt off and then his jeans. And then you go to his drawer and shift through his soft clothes, bringing him a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. After you help him put them on, you pause to look at his face, cupping his cheeks in your hands.

“Big or little?”

“Little,” Steve says, a little sheepishly, but you tuck him into your arms without complaint or hesitation. He hadn’t known that being the little spoon was an option for him until about a month ago and he now steadfastly refuses to give it up. You’re usually colder than he is but tonight you’re extra warm. His hand finds the back of your arm where it wraps across his waist and he grabs onto it with the tender resolve of a bulldog.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Steve.”

“I don’t know, I just wish you wanted me, I guess.” He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Steve backtracks.

“Who said I don’t want you?” His heart stops.

“What?”

“I said-”

“I heard what you said,” Steve says as he rolls over. You look apprehensive, incredibly nervous, like you’re worried that he’s pulling your leg.

“I’m sorry, I think I misinterpreted. Or you were thinking about someone different-”

“No. You didn’t.” Steve is staring at you now, headache fading with something else to focus on.

“Oh.”

“Can you tell me?”

“What?”

“That you want me?”

“Steve, I do want you. I have pretty much since the day I met you. I’m just not very good at showing it, I guess.” Steve wraps his arms around your middle, pulling you in closer to him, crushing you as he squeezes you like a boa constrictor. You squeak and he lets go.

“Sorry, I forgot-” You put your hand on his cheek, running your thumb along his cheekbone. Steve stares into your eyes as you stare at him, unblinking.

“I really want to kiss you,” Steve says, mouth dry.

“Kiss me in the morning,” you say.

“It’s morning now,” Steve says, before closing the gap between you.

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington #reader insert #joe keery

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