#bobbie writes

[bmodiwrites]

So, @infinite-orangepeel made this post & I got immediate inspo. Here be the result. Check back soon for the next part ;)

Running sucks.

Eddie repeats that mantra every year he’s forced out onto the track for the dreaded mile run. Those that argue school isn’t organized torture absolutely overlook the utter humiliation of having to pant and sweat and die a little more with each step… in front of others.

As a firm rebellion against such a horrible organized event, Eddie takes his time walking around the track. He smokes enough weed to break a sweat doing just that, so that’s all he’s really capable of, anyway. No matter how much he’s heckled or how often the gym teacher yells in his direction, Eddie’s pace doesn’t increase, nor does he try to do anything but put one foot in front of the other.

There are others who are much more equipped to run that pass him by, lap by lap. As the years went on and Eddie starts to notice certain features of a certain someone, the leisurely pace becomes about more than flipping off the establishment.

So much more.

See, Hawkins is known for the ugly green and yellow of their school colors. It’s all over the walls and decorations, the cafeteria and every sign – even their gym clothes are representative of the horrid spirit of Tiger Pride. While Eddie’s always been of the opinion that no one looks good in the palate of vegetable medley, he’s yearly proven wrong by Steve Harrington’s ass.

Without fail, The King is one of the first to sprint off the line when the whistle is blown. His long legs propel him down the track like a gazelle. Eddie’s fond of the way his muscles stretch as he rounds the corners to take on the straightaways. There’s no denying that everything about Steve Harrington is attractive. His pretty boy looks become more deliciously combined with his steadily developing manliness.

Most of the Hawkins High population thinks so.

Eddie’s is more than certain, however, that no one has cracked the magic code like he has. While all the girls walk in a line and complain, Eddie minds his own business and waits for the perfect moment when Steve passes him on the left. He’s zoned in and focused enough to watch the most wonderful thing. It’s a treat to witness Steve’s glorious ass bounce in those green shorts. They are just short enough for the break between hamstring and glute to be visible with every forward step.

Eddie’s never been more grateful for the bunching of fabric.

The only downside to his nefarious plan is the last lap. Since Steve is the golden boy and gets his mile done quickly, Eddie is forced to complete the last lap without any worthwhile stimulus. His breathing is erratic, not from the arousal that he briefly allows, but from the lack of oxygen getting to his lungs. It’s a struggle, but more than worth it to spend brief moments ogling the finest ass that Eddie’s ever seen.

Eddie’s second attempt at a senior year, something changes. Steve isn’t out ahead of everyone else, anymore. He’s jogging, though it’s nothing like the all-out sprint he seemed to do before. In fact, he’s running just enough to be about 100 meters ahead of Eddie. He’s in the perfect spot for Eddie to enjoy the rhythmic shift of Steve’s ass without having to look away.

It’s the absolute best, until Eddie breaks out of his trance enough to see Steve peering back over his shoulder to look at Eddie, too. It’s surprising and exhilarating and more than enough confusing stimulus for his feet to get caught up.

Eddie trips over himself with his tongue out like some feral dog.

The situation’s only saving grace is a strong hand that grabs Eddie’s arm and helps him up from the pile he made of himself on the track. Eddie doesn’t need to hear the dulcet tones of Harrington’s voice to recognize who’s come to his rescue. The pervy boy that’s been watching Steve run for the last few years recognizes hairy calves and shapely quads in his peripheral vision.

“You okay, Munson?” Steve asks once Eddie is stable on his feet. His eyes are dark with amusement and something Eddie can’t quite place.

Unsurprisingly, the look makes Eddie want to eat him alive.

Pushing that thought aside, Eddie absently nods his head. “I’m good. I uh – lost my footing. There’s a wet spot on the track over there – or something.”

Embarrassment and the low thrumming arousal that always fills Eddie up whenever Steve’s around keep him from saying something that actually makes sense – his tongue is thick with a desire that’s hard to tamper down. Especially when Steve licks his lips and smiles at him.

What the hell did he ever do to deserve such teasing?

“Maybe you should watch where you’re going.” Steve leans in then, dropping his tone. “My ass trips everyone up.”

Gasping, Eddie lets Steve’s words wash over him. Blood and shame and adrenaline and lust flock to a bunch of different places all at once. Eddie suddenly doesn’t know up from down. He can’t think straight, so he shrugs in the least casual way and hums awkwardly. It’s too good to be true, anyway.

Steve is just an arrogant ass who knows he’s beautiful.

And fuck if that’s not even more attractive.

Eddie continues to gap like a fish, while words escape him. Steve, the gentleman that he is, tries to hide the laugh bubbling up inside of him. He really does. Eddie can’t blame him when he snorts adorably.

“It’s okay, Munson. I get it.” Steve, who never actually dropped Eddie’s hand after helping him up, squeezes their fingers together before backing away. The touch is broken so quickly, Eddie’s head spins. He didn’t know it was there just a moment ago and now it’s like he can’t live without it.

His pain is somewhat soothed when Steve leaves him with a wink and knowing grin. The gesture is new and exciting – more than enough fodder for the spank bank Steve is the main star off. It allows him, at least, to forget about the humiliation of tripping all over himself as he gets up to start walking his mile again.

This time, when it takes him twenty minutes, he actually has an excuse. The scrape on his knee and brand new memories of the Steve Harrington jiggle are still distracting him.

Eddie thinks about what just happened as he ignores the slack he’s going to be getting for months to come. The situation occupies his mind as he strips down to nothing and wraps a towel very quickly around his hips. It’s all his brain can toss around while the water heats up.

And there’s certainly no stopping it when all too familiar legs step into Eddie’s view.

check out part 2 here!

#steddie #bobbie writes #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington's butt in little green shorts #thirsty things #infinite-orangepeel #ficlets #blurbs #more to come

[firstprincewrites]

This Magnetic Force Of A Man

Henry is captivated by Alex Claremont-Diaz, there's no other way to describe the heat in his belly or the instant infatuation. For a long time, Henry is hopeless, dreaming a dream that seems so far away. When a media disaster strikes and things change for the better, Henry is left overwhelmed by the intensity of Alex - the man himself is a force to be reckoned with. In their heavier moments, Henry leans into the soft grip of dark curls, leans into the feeling of being grounded by another. Read to find out how Henry navigates all the big moments in their relationship, one hair pull at a time.

Caught Beneath the Landslide

What if Henry hadn't been emotionally unavailable leading to him being rude to Alex upon first meeting him in Melbourne? What if, instead of hating each other, their relationship starts right then and there? Come find out what happens when Henry and Alex find themselves growing up together, nursing a connection, and navigating hurdles in life without the fear of being alone in the fight. What could our boys possibly get up to now?

When Everything's Made To Be Broken

Henry is happy to be back at Etton College for his senior year but that's thrown off course by the president's son untimely arrival. A personal catastrophe brings Alex to England to rain on Henry's parade - at least, that's what the Prince thinks when the First Son arrives. Soon, Henry finds that there's a lot more to Alex and the relationship meant to exist between them.

Keep Breaking Me In

After a long night, Henry isn't expecting Shaan to knock on his door to bring bad news. Yet, his equerry stands there with a sheepish look on his face, nonetheless. Henry is quick to find out that Phillip got his hands on a damning video and plans to use it as a way to dishonorably discharge Henry from military service. Too bad Phillip doesn't recognize the other man in the video - Alex Claremont-Diaz is a high caliber Civil Rights lawyer just waiting to defend instances just like this.

Try To Document This Light

Buying the brownstone is both the start of Henry's path away from the crown and a concrete future for himself and Alex. It's a place he can call home with the man that he loves, a place where they can grow, change, and shift into the men they're going to be for the world to come. After a lifetime of not really belonging anywhere, Henry finds a space that's truly his. Read to catch little peaks into his life with Alex and what the future has in store for them between the walls of that simple little brownstone.

Just the Thought Of You (Gets Me So High)

"Amy helped me plan it."What went into Henry's ocean crossing surprise? What were his thoughts going to the DNC where he'd finally see Alex on the stage, doing what he loves & looking amazing while doing it? Read to find out Henry's side of things as the night of the DNC unfolds.

I Like That Thing You Do

Ever since the first polo match Alex attended, his obsession with Henry on a horse has only grew. Years into their relationship, Alex is still hanging onto the pitch's fence, watching with rapt fascination. Read to find out what happens when Phillip asks a question that creates a lust monster Alex can't control. No one ever said those white pants Henry wears aren't meant to be destroyed.

With the View In the Morning (You Won't Ever Go Back)

Despite being together just shy of a year, the night of the election is a first for both Alex and Henry. After sneaking away to linger in their victory, Henry is surprised by Alex's initiative. They're on his home court so Henry is expecting the usual but Alex has something different in mind. The shift is enough to knock Henry's world off kilter in the best of ways. Read to find out how Henry survives his first time topping.

Can We Dance In the Dark?

"Who would you be?""Be a writer. Live in Paris."Inspired by this beautiful quote, this fic follows Henry Fox, a writer who's famous for crafting stories about a fictional prince - The Royal Blue series follows James through the trials and tribulations of being young, royal, and gay as a maypole. He loves what he does but inspiration is dry. He can't find the words and is severely stuck in a bout of writer's block. To try and abate it, Henry takes David for a walk - fate, the dear she is, finds a way to intervene. After a collision, Henry comes face to face with Alex Claremont-Diaz, law student and first son of the United States. Read to find out how their relationship develops into something worth writing about.

This Happily Ever After

For such a natural, easy sort of relationship like Alex and Henry's, there is a lot of weight on their shoulders. Despite themselves, they're making history with each new step they take in their relationship. It's a good thing, then, that neither man is a stranger to the limelight. When Alex teases about them making history, Henry doesn't know how deep that comment will run or how true it actually is. Read to catch a few pieces of Alex & Henry's relationship where they make their own history. Sometimes, two people are meant to shape the world, no matter the circumstance.Or - 5 times Alex jokes about making history and 1 time Henry reciprocates.

I Get Lost, I Get Washed Away

Law school is stressful from the start but it reaches a fever pitch during Alex's last semester. He decides Henry's birthday is the perfect excuse to get away from it all so he hatches a plan to not only be there for Henry's birthday but surprise him with his presence, too. They're on the cusp of something in their relationship and Alex is ready to help whatever it is along. Everything works out perfectly, down to the moonlit car ride they take at the end of the night. Read to find out how an overstimulated Alex pampers the birthday boy - in the end, they both take care of each other.

I Got A Girl Crush

Alex Claremont-Diaz has been the object of Henry's affection for longer than the prince cares to admit. He's usually pretty sane about it but his brother's wedding has put everything on high alert. After reading a particularly upsetting gossip rag, Henry is distraught by the idea of seeing Alex with her - Nora Holleran - everything that Henry is not. He decides he wants what she has as the night goes on and her closeness with Alex becomes apparent. Though, Henry is quick to learn that not all things are what they appear. Sometimes, it takes a little frosting on the cheek to realize how wrong one can truly be.

Then Wiggle With It

What if, instead of balking at the request, Henry takes Alex up on his offer to dance during 'Get Low'? Alex has been wondering why he feels a little funny whenever Henry is around but an errant touch while their bodies are close causes him to reevaluate everything he's come to know about himself. Can the simple bump and grind of a raucous club song really change everything for Alex? And does their relationship shift now that Alex comes to a groundbreaking realization much quicker than ever imaginable? Read to find out!

The Perfect Genius Of Our Hands and Mouths

The first time they make love, that soft press of Henry's hand to the small of Alex's back is a guiding light. He's not a fumbling boy learning how to walk - he's a man with someone showing him the ropes. It's a wonderful thing that Alex never forgets. In fact, he comes to rely on that hand on the small of his back leading him through the ups and downs of life. Read to see a few slices of Alex and Henry's time together where making love and feeling that touch play starring roles in the biggest instances of their relationship.

A Solid Embrace

Despite the not so good nature of the holiday, Thanksgiving has always been special to Alex. Throughout the years, he learns things, eats good food, and grows into the man he is today. This year, Henry gets the freedom to spend the holiday with Alex and his family out at the lake house in Texas. Determined to make it the best yet, Alex goes through all the motions, perfecting them along the way. Somewhere throughout the day, his priority changes, however - Henry in a striped rugby shirt is suddenly the object of his fixation, food and tradition forgotten. Read to find out how a little football makes Alex realize his family is finally complete.

#firstprince #firstprince fic #firstprince fluff #firstprince smut #red white and royal blue #red white and royal blue movie #rw&rb #rw&rb fanfic #rwrb #alex claremont diaz #alex #prince henry of wales #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry #bobbie writes #masterlists #masterlist #firstprince masterlist

[webethepeachesfromrockford]

Hi! I love your writing. I creeped into your blog and see you’re taking requests for prompts. Would it be okay to request something really smutty with underlying tones of jealousy/angst? Like Carson is forced on yet another date with Greta and a man with a shirt after the fact that Greta and Carson are secretly a thing and can’t keep their hands off each other? Idk..🙈

Well thank you! That's kind of you to say. Heck yeah that's okay - I love the idea!! I'm going to put everything from here on out under the read more; it's going to get a little smutty. You can read it over on AO3, too. I've decided to call it Gave Me Something to Lose.

Leave all your prompts/plot ideas here!

There’s been a hard to control anger bubbling under Carson’s skin all day. Which is rather unfortunate because the previous night with Greta in her arms was more than spectacular. Carson went down to breakfast floating on an air of satisfaction and happiness, only for it to be crushed by Bev’s arrival. Since Carson took on the gig of coaching, their chaperone walking into the room always means something catastrophic. Though it’s nothing to do with baseball, Carson thinks the result of Bev’s announcement is devastating all the same. Another guy with a shirt wants to take Greta out for a date. It’s made worse by the fact that Bev doesn’t hesitate to volunteer Carson for babysitting duty again. The last time was cruel and unusual punishment that Carson has no intention of repeating. She can hardly stand to have Greta be a couple of feet away from her; sitting across the table as she flirts with some random man is a recipe for disaster.

Carson can’t really say that though, so she tries to shift her grimace into something that looks like a smile as she nods her head and accepts her fate like the polite lady she pretends to be. Catching Greta’s eye is impossible in that moment, if Carson lets herself glance up she might not be able to hold herself together. There are already words of protest starting to creep up her throat. The effort used to swallow them back is worse than squatting behind the plate for innings on end. Carson retreats because it’s the only thing she knows how to do in a situation that is a bust from the beginning. Carson doesn’t even try to make any excuses, either. Her chair makes a loud screech when she pushes away from the table and hastily leaves the room.

There’s peace and quiet in her own space for about five minutes before a knock on the door breaks through the serenity. Carson is fuming but with it enough not to let it show. There’s only one person that can be standing there waiting for permission to enter. It’s not Greta’s fault, she knows that the redhead isn’t keen on being near a man any more than Carson wants her to be. Expressing her frustration in any way towards Greta would be stupid – there’s nothing either of them can do about the situation. So, Carson wipes under her eyes and sits up on her bed. “Come in,” Carson says. She’s happy to note her voice isn’t strained – it’s nice to know there’s something going right for her.

“You okay, Shaw?” Greta asks. Her long legs carry her quickly over to Carson’s bed where she sits down without waiting to be asked. They’re comfortable with each other now, sharing space is like breathing. Carson can’t help but smile at that thought. Regardless of what the world demands of them, no one can take away the closeness that exists when they rotate around the same axis. With Greta close, Carson feels strong and able to take on anything – even a night filled with fake laughter and a random man looking at her woman. At the end of the date, Carson gets to take Greta home.

It's with that reassurance in mind that Carson nods. “Yeah, yeah – I’m fine. Bev just caught me off guard.” Carson sticks with the bare minimum knowing Greta understands the things she isn’t and can’t say. There’s no need to talk about how unfair it is, how intolerable the farce will be. Out of the two of them, Carson is sure that Greta is more than familiar with the slights people like them are dealt. The frustration of the situation is clearly felt by both women in the room.

Greta makes a soft sound at the back of her throat, then moves a little closer to Carson on the bed. They can’t be all that outright with their affection but Greta doesn’t hesitate to slide her hand across the mattress and wrap it around Carson’s. She gives it an affectionate squeeze and holds on. “I don’t want to go, you know that,” Greta needlessly admits. Her fingers tangle with Carson’s before continuing. “I wish more than anything it could just be you and me. That’s what I’ll be thinking about all night.” She drops her voice a little, using the pitch that makes Carson’s skin pebble with want. It does the trick because Carson immediately relaxes. The problem isn’t solved and nothing has changed but Greta’s good and her words are enough to calm Carson right down.

Despite it being a risky move, Carson reaches over to cup Greta’s face. Her thumb possessively traces the arch of Greta’s defined cheekbone. The rouge she wears isn’t enough to make up the blush that blossoms along Greta’s porcelain skin. Carson grins at the easy way Greta opens up to her. Her fingertip moves to trace the bridge of her nose and the arch of her lip. Carson claims her with the barest hint of a touch. When their lips finally meet, Greta openly moans. It’s a delight to collect the sound and kiss it away. They try not to give up the handle of control in open spaces but it’s too easy to press in a little harder, to slip their tongues together in a now all too familiar dance. Carson forces herself to pull back but not before Greta is making happy little noises into the shared space between them.

Leaning her forehead against Greta’s, Carson closes her eyes and allows herself to take everything in. The flowery scent of Greta’s perfume, the huff of gasped breath against her lips, even the satiny feel of Greta’s dress beneath her fingers. It’s the last time they’ll get to be close like this for the rest of the day. Between practice and the date, it’ll be hours before they can even think about being alone. Carson can feel Greta getting a little worried about their proximity, so she pulls away after another moment of reveling in just being near the other woman. When they part, Carson scoots over another inch on the bed to curb the temptation to reach out and keep a hold of Greta.

Like Carson predicted, the rest of the day is a chaotic rush of practicing cut offs and hitting until their arms are close to falling off. She’s so intent on ignoring what’s going to happen later that night that Carson keeps them a little later than usual. Everyone is glaring at her by the time practice is over but they’re ready to play the Blue Sox over the next couple of days. In her attempt to continue to stall, Carson takes a stupid amount of time in the locker room. She uses her game cards as an excuse and makes them all more than ten minutes late for supper. The rest of the girls are forgiving when they walk into a house that smells like something delightful – Carson’s folly isn’t enough to take away the joy of being embraced by fresh food.

Greta’s eyes follow her, though – Carson’s been wanting to have that gaze on her for so long that the particular feeling of being watched is something she’s come to look forward to. While she usually tries to be stealthy and look over her shoulder, Carson stares straight ahead. There’s no use in flirting when the need to wrap it up tight is approaching. Her feelings for Greta are so strong that Carson can’t stop once she gets going. The man that’s salivating at the thought of taking Greta out probably wouldn’t appreciate Carson’s brand of flirting. It’s easier to just ignore the entire situation until it’s right in her face – Carson has learned she’s relatively good under pressure.

Except she’s not and the whole evening’s activities are a terrible idea. Greta comes down the stairs in a red dress that highlights her hair and lips. Carson feels her jaw drop at the sight. She’s probably drooling, too, though she lacks the available brain bytes to check. All of her effort goes into stopping the gasp that so desperately wants to fall from her lips. Greta looks beautiful and Carson wants to eat her alive. She’s stripped Greta out of that particular dress before – Carson knows what it looks like as the fabric moves across pale skin (and what it looks like in a crumple on the old car’s floor, too). Her fingers ache with the need to grip the small maroon zipper and pull it down. Carson doesn’t have to think too hard to recall the glorious view that is Greta’s naked back. Creamy skin and freckles and signs of life drag Carson in each and every time. It’s silly how much time she spends mapping Greta’s flesh.

It's imperative to look away, so Carson forces her gaze towards the floor. She takes a couple of deep breaths to lessen the bubbling heat in her stomach. Between the residual anger and sudden arousal, Carson’s already so strung out. The prospect of making it through on the other side seems like a miracle. Her body physically does not want to move when it’s time to go. Carson is reluctant to admit that petulance is creeping in, but there’s no other explanation. She feels like a child that’s not getting her way. Regardless of the emotional upheaval happening, Carson gets it together and follows Greta out the door. Their walk to the bar the team usually frequents is silent and heavy. The tension is hard to swallow after being so open with each other, though Carson is somewhat glad for it. At least she has something consuming to focus on.

Instead, Carson watches Greta closely. Her date, Matt or Mark, is a solider home because of some sort of arm injury. He’s still in a sling, even. It’s obvious that the man is confident and smooth – if this were a normal situation, Carson’s sure he’d be bagging the dame before him. Greta, however, is only giving the interaction half of her effort. Carson recognizes the forced smile Greta uses when talking to one of the league’s board members or a jerky fan. Though it shouldn’t be relief that floods through her, Carson recognizes the heavy weight lifting off of her back. Understanding starts to settle in – suddenly the date isn’t so bad.

That’s not exactly true, though. Carson still hates the way Greta reaches across the table to run a finger teasingly up the back of her date’s hand. Carson’s felt that same move done to her, she knows how wild it makes her. Recognizing the same look in Matt/Mark’s face is infuriating. Her fingers curl into a fist on their own accord. While Carson knows she’ll never actually swing, the desire to sock a man has never been more consuming. Luckily, Greta’s the only one who notices. They share a look before Greta goes back to pretending to pay attention to some half-baked, probably made up story. Carson stopped listening a while ago, so she quietly seethes in her chair. Despite her initial outlook on the evening, Carson finds this date to be akin to torture, too. Especially when the night ends with Greta’s lips pressed against someone else’s cheek.

Carson sees a new shade of red in her vision. It completely overtakes her for a moment. Blinking it away, Carson is happy to see that she didn’t lash out in that brief lapse of control. It takes everything in her not to grab Greta by the arm and guide her home like a naughty little child. Another part of her wants to slam the taller woman up against the brick wall separating the bar and the theater to show her who her lips truly belong to. There are so many thoughts flying across the forefront of Carson’s mind that it’s hard to process Greta’s words when she says “let’s go home, Shaw.”

Mindlessly, Carson nods and follows Greta back to the house on autopilot. Her brain is whirring at an alarming pace, if she says or does anything now, it’ll all blow up in Carson’s face. By the time they’re walking up the driveway, Carson knows they’re back well before curfew, so showing their faces right away isn’t exactly necessary. She unsubtly uses her shoulder to guide Greta towards the garage where they can have a few minutes of peace and privacy. The redhead goes without any further prompting. Her hand even reaches out to grab Carson’s – Greta doesn’t let go until they’re both working to get the dust cover up enough to get into the car. Carson ushers Greta in first. Once the door closes, Carson knows there’s going to be no way to justify her actions.

She doesn’t let Greta say a word; Carson is on her so quickly that they topple back against the seat in a hectic tangle of limbs. Stopping or drawing back or even thinking isn’t really an option, though, so Carson readjusts and continues with her attack. Both hands are buried in the silky strands of Greta’s hair, gripping there to deepen and control the kiss. Greta’s hands are passively on Carson’s hips, simply holding on for the ride. That’s a tantalizing thought that makes Carson pull away and look down. She’s taken off guard by how done in Greta looks already – her hazy eyes look up at Carson with curiosity and impatience. It’s obvious that Greta is enjoying the take charge attitude Carson can’t help. The knot in her stomach tightens – it’s moments like these where Carson realizes that Greta is the sexiest woman alive – and she’s all Carson’s.

Desperate to remind herself of that, Carson drags her lips away from Greta’s to kiss and nip at the skin of the redhead’s neck, instead. She’s tall everywhere, including the long slope between shoulder and head. It’s all pale complexion and traceable surface area that Carson will never be able to get enough of. The greedy want to mark Greta’s skin steamrolls her. Carson is certain the shape of her lips on Greta’s skin would be the most beautiful thing. Too bad propriety calls for an image that doesn’t coincide with possessive sex. Maybe one day.

Carson doesn’t stop herself from littering kisses on the skin there, though. Her tongue and lips make paths up and down a neck that Greta stretches to its full length to give Carson more room. It’s satisfying to hear Greta already breathing heavy, despite Carson only getting started. Impatient hands reach up to trace Carson’s hips and cup both her breasts, but she’s immovable. Greta doesn’t realize how terrible it was for Carson to see Greta’s lips on someone else. Claiming Greta’s skin back is the only way to purge the memory. Though an explanation of that would be simple and better for them both, Carson is stubborn and wants to put the other woman back on her heels. At the end of the day, it’s Carson’s way of showing Greta how much she truly means. If the stolen moments are all they’re ever going to have, Carson intends to make them good.

Soon, Carson’s moved her attention to small buttons that come undone after a couple of fumbles. Carson is so spun up that coordination is becoming tougher by the second. Finally, there’s enough bare skin to dive into Greta’s dress, the rest of the buttons and zipper be damned. Eager palms cup both of Greta’s breasts through the brazier she’s wearing. The weight of them is familiar and exhilarating in a way that almost makes Carson forget her objective. She’s gluttonous in her exploration for an extra second or two before moving on. By the time Greta’s dress hits the floor, Carson’s patience is close to running out.

Thankfully, Greta is selfish, too. She works to rid Carson of her clothes until they’re both in just their underthings. There’s a special delight Carson takes in watching Greta take off her armor. With nothing but a bra on, her strong lover is just a woman with a great rack and gorgeous curves. She’s vulnerable in a way that makes her reachable and man does Carson want to touch and grip and never let go. In these intimate moments, Carson meets a piece of Greta that she’s not sure anyone else has ever seen before. At least, Carson hopes that’s the case. The fondness in Greta’s eyes as she stares up at Carson is too good a thing to ever want to share.

Leaning forward to kiss Greta on the lips again, Carson brushes that thought aside. She’s better off thinking about sliding her hand into the waistband of Greta’s skirt slip. Carson gets much more satisfaction from discovering how wet Greta is. Her fingers brush through Greta’s excitement, collecting some of it to ease the way as her fingertips start to make small teasing circles over Greta’s clit. Though they aren’t in total privacy, Greta feels comfortable enough to moan when the going gets good. Carson soaks up the noises, hoarding them in a special spot in her brain for moments when they can’t be together. Greta’s usually so bottled up that Carson delights in the fact that her actions are good enough to drag out groans of pleasure. Now’s not any different, either. Greta’s got her bottom lip between her teeth, but it’s of no help. The gasps and chopped up mumbles of Carson’s name are tangible despite the effort.

She keeps circling her finger until Greta’s thighs start to tremble. Carson recognizes she’s close and pulls away. Her hand, still wet from Greta’s arousal, reaches to undo the clasp on the bra keeping the rest of Greta’s skin hostage. Carson wastes no time getting her lips around a nipple she licks cleverly with her tongue. Her fingers gently tease at the other one until they’re both hard. As Carson moves to cup Greta’s breast, she feels goose flesh rush across Greta’s skin. The reality of how much Carson’s touch does to Greta amps up the pleasure. Carson hasn’t so much as touched herself, yet she knows she’s sopping wet. Her clit aches for friction and attention but there’s something sweet about denying herself, too. She’s all about Greta at the moment, anyway.

There’s a little fumbling to get Greta out of the rest of her clothes but they take it in stride. It’s fun to laugh during a time that sometimes can get tense. They share kisses and make each other smile to push through the awkwardness. Greta naked is something that can stop any negative thought, anyway. Carson never deprives herself of the opportunity to trace her eyes over long legs that give way to hourglass hips and a stomach Carson always wants to stuff her face into. Greta is a gorgeous woman that makes Carson appreciate what it means to be feminine, to have curves, to be well endowed with perfectly shaped breasts. She doesn’t shy away from the fact that the things she likes about her own body are qualities she finds attractive in Greta, too.

“You’re gorgeous,” Carson mumbles as she places kisses down the valley between Greta’s breasts. Her hands trace down Greta’s sides until they’re on hips and thighs and then between them. Greta doesn’t take any prompting to open her legs and make room for Carson. Despite the small space in the car’s back seat, they make it work. Sure, Carson’s knees will be sore by the time she’s done but it’s well worth it. Watching Greta bite her fist and buck her hips off of the sticky leather seat is more than enough to make up for the muggy air and shoebox feeling. Carson’s pretty sure she’s willing to do anything to be this way with Greta, though that truth is still one she’s trying to navigate and understand. For now, she focuses on finding Greta’s entrance to tease at with two of her fingers.

Greta doesn’t say anything until Carson’s face level with Greta’s clit. The tips of two fingers have been teasing around Greta’s hole, incessantly teasing. Carson never slips them fully inside but uses most of her fingertips to make their presence known. She pushes just enough to feel Greta clench around her. Her “fuck Shaw” lingers in the thick air, echoing in Carson’s ears. She looks up, catching Greta’s eye as she leans forward and starts to lick lightly over Greta’s clit. It’s swollen and Carson feels it pulse under her tongue. Greta even tightens up around her fingers. Despite not knowing what the hell she was doing when things started, Carson is a quick study. She knows all of Greta’s tells and signs because the redhead has learned to speak just as loudly with her body as she does with her words.

Besides, Carson has always been the type of person to wants to do things to the best of her ability, so she pays attention. She knows that when Greta throws her head back, Carson is sucking at the perfect intensity. Greta’s fingers in her hair mean more, though she’s not afraid to ask for it, too. Magic things start to happen when Greta lets go and gives herself over to Carson completely. Despite being on fire and aroused out of her brain, Carson still has enough thought to revel in the fact that Greta deems her worthy. Losing the fight to passion in its entirety is a vulnerable thing. Other than Jo, who’s been a lifelong friend, Carson’s positive Greta hasn’t given up any piece of herself to another human being. It’s an honor to watch Greta fall apart all because Carson can use her mouth for more than just blathering words and inspirational speeches.

The concept of being special to such a jaw dropping person gives Carson the confidence to start moving her fingers and mouth in tandem. Both fingers are deep inside of Greta, thrusting and stroking upward with each draw back. As her hand fucks Greta with precision, Carson’s tongue works to tell a story around Greta’s clit. She can feel the other woman’s juices dripping down her chin. Between spit and excitement, Greta’s so wet it’s mindboggling. Every one of Carson’s motions is eased by restless hips and slick. Carson’s never been more turned on in her entire life, though every new encounter with Greta makes her feel that way. Her own cunt is throbbing with the sort of want that makes it a lot less shameful to run a hand down the middle of her chest to slip under the waistband of drenched panties. It heightens the experience, touching herself while Carson goes down on Greta with passionate enthusiasm.

Though it’s getting harder to breath by the second, Carson doesn’t let up or think to draw away. Greta’s thighs have started to tighten around Carson’s head as her orgasm grows near. The telling quivering of Greta’s stomach adds to the irritable shifting of hips and gasping breaths. Carson loves the few moments right before Greta is thrown off the edge of the cliff. What her tongue and hands and dedication has done is spread out before her. This is raw Greta Gill that Carson is lucky enough to witness in all of her glory. Never mind the fact that Carson’s name sounds so pretty coming from Greta’s mouth in that deliciously breathy way. Greta loses all words other than Carson and it’s a glorious thing. Though she has no real claim to the women sweating with pleasure under her, Carson enjoys the little things that are just for them that reminder her that Greta is hers. At the end of the day, Greta’s legs are wrapped around Carson’s neck as she fights to hang on to those last seconds of carnal pleasure before bliss finally comes about.

Carson’s eyes fly up to Greta as her orgasm hits. The taste on her tongue is almost as divine as the look on Greta’s face – it’s twisted and contorted into the physical manifestation of unthinkable pleasure. Her eyes are closed, clenched up tightly, even. The red of her lips is smeared from kisses and rough bites in a hopeless attempt to stop unruly moans. Flush on Great’s skin matches the lipstick Carson made imperfect. It’s a glorious sight, way more than enough to yank Carson over the edge, too. She shudders in the best of ways, kissing the soft skin of the inside of Greta’s thigh while her body works its way through it. Carson’s mindlessly lipping at Greta’s skin when a hand is yanking her up and into kissing range. The fact that Greta doesn’t give a shit about Carson’s messy face is another reason why Greta is the sexiest person on the planet. She simply presses her lips to Carson’s like there isn’t cum and spit and slick all over.

They don’t need to say anything as their deep kisses taper off until Carson is simply resting her head against Greta’s cheek. It’s hot in the car and the minutes in which they’re free are dwindling down – dawdling in any matter is always a risk. Somehow, Carson figures it’s worth it to have Greta petting a hand through her hair while their heart rates decrease and the world becomes something that doesn’t just revolve around them. One day, they won’t have to endure a fake date before taking each other apart. Carson will be able to ask Greta out on her own without any pretense. Until then, laying in arms that swing bats and take on the weight of the world for the seconds she can is more than enough for Carson.

Despite hating every second of playing the third wheel, Carson is a winner in the end. Greta’s throat is sore from panting out Carson’s name. No man with a shirt can say that, not while Carson’s around.

#gretson #greta gill x carson shaw #carson shaw x greta gill #greta x carson #carson x greta #greta/carson #carson/greta #carson shaw #greta gill #a league of their own #aloto #a league of their own series #bobbie writes #writing prompts #gave me something to lose

[bmodwritesdinluke]

Hi friends! I'm getting my feet wet in the fandom today both with a new fic and a new blog! I'd love if you guys checked out my first dinluke fic & let me know what you think! I'm really excited to start my journey & make new pals in a new fandom. This one's 18+, so minors DNi! Click over to AO3 to read And It's All Alright!

They start with harmless staffs that clank and groan under the pressure of two brilliantly gifted fighters. Mando is quick on his feet and efficient with the armor that covers most of his body. His recklessness is a testament to always having his most fleshy and important bits covered. Luke tucks that knowledge away for when their sabers join the party and the true fun really begins.

For a while, Luke inevitably beats up on the Mandalorian until one day, the staff is knocked out of Luke’s hands and Mando is finally, triumphantly hovering over him.

With his chest still heaving, Luke grins up from his place on the floor. A bubble of laughter escapes when a soft sigh leaves the Mandalorian’s lips – even through the vocoder, Luke hears real pride in the gesture.

“That was amazing. I didn’t even see you coming,” Luke gushes, still heaving out laughs and trying to catch his breath. The next moment, Mando holds out a hand that Luke eagerly accepts. Being lifted to shaky feet is too much for the euphoric feeling Luke’s floating around in and his legs give out. As Mando pulls him up, Luke loses his balance and goes tumbling into an armored chest.

Strong arms wrap around him, holding him tightly against bright beskar. Luke tries not to breath but it’s no use. The desperate desire to look up is too much. Despite knowing eyes won’t be there to catch his own, Luke tilts his head up to stare at the dark line of Mando’s visor. He’s a second away from speaking when that very same helmet comes down to rest against Luke’s forehead, sharp armor against smooth skin.

Luke later finds out that Mando kissed him that day. It takes a few more fumbles into strong arms for the two of them to take the next step. In a post-orgasmic stupor, Luke learns what a keldabe kiss is and its importance amongst the Mandalorian’s.

“Until we’re clan, the gesture is all I’m able to give,” Mando says, a wistfulness to his modulated voice. As if to drive that longing Luke recognizes home, familiar hands come up to frame his face. Luke doesn’t hesitate to tilt his head up; he’s slowly growing used to the cool metal against his skin. The tenderness of it soothes an ache Luke never knew he had. While their carnality is lovely, Luke appreciates the affection more.

Though, that idea is severely tested the day the Mandalorian finally tells him his name. “Call me Din,” he says, sounding both shy and desperately determined. Luke is certain arousal isn’t the reaction his lover is looking for but there’s no time to argue. Moving with the force, Luke is in Din’s lap before their next breath. “Hi, Din,” Luke eventually says, a wide smile on his face.

Read the rest on AO3!

#dinluke #the mandalorian #din x luke #skydalorian #luke skywalker x din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din dijarin/luke skywalker #din dijarn #luke skywalker #skydalorian fic #dinluke fic #dinluke fanfiction #dinluke au #star wars #sw fic #bobbie writes #and it's all alright

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

If I Only Could

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: Y’all - this ship is living in my brain & I can’t get it out. This isn’t the last you’ll see of my Steddie work. They deserve all the happiness in the fucking world! Word Count: ~5K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Summary:

He still felt the shocking cold of Eddie’s silver rings against sensitive skin. Steve didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but the soft touch was not it. None of the intimacy Steve shared with anyone else felt so all consuming. Until Eddie decided to close the space between them, Steve had only experienced kisses and caresses that were one dimensional. They were for pleasure and pleasure only. Eddie made everything technicolor, locking into all of his senses in a way that made Steve truly live the moment. Each second was to be admired and clung to, stored away for later perusal.

OR - a sorry excuse for a little fluffy PWP!

Find it on AO3

#steddie #evening reblog #stranger things #steve/eddie #bobbie writes #if i only could

[knife-filled-plushies]

i love the Smiling Critters as a cartoon concept and if it ever developed like mlp or something like that I can absolutely see something comical like this happening djkfskf

lesson at the end would probably be something about getting a healthy amount of sleep and staying on a good schedule jfhskf

#pastel doodles! #smiling critters #poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #catnap #dogday #hoppy hopscotch #bubba bubbaphant #picky piggy #kickinchicken #craftycorn #bobby bearhug #wanted to write something about this but writer's block is an ass shjfhsf #also like the idea of a reverse scenario happening in contrast to the official cartoon short #the smiling critters wanna sleep and catnap is just like 'no. now drink your green tea.'

[bishy437]

チーンホワ君の日常。

sqh’s everyday life.

#svsss #moshang #mobei jun #shang qinghua #sha hualing #scum villian self saving system #mine #i feel like they probably do things differently in the demon realm like write in blood or some sh*t lmao #rip huahua the underpaid intern but at least he gets bobby face smashes

[x-i-l-verify]

Something that I've noticed ever since the Smiling Critters were introduced is that they can so easily be paired off into complementary duos, ones that are specifically designed to teach children fundamental lessons about life and self-care from two different angles. It's really interesting to me.

Like obviously you have Dogday and Catnap, with their sun/moon, dog/cat dichotomy, that stress how important it is to have fun and get things done during the day, but also that it's important to wind down, relax, and get a good night's sleep.

-

Bubba Bubbaphant and Craftycorn were introduced as a duo in the Smiling Critter show's intro, and their dichotomy is quite obvious. They are basically the right and left sides of the brain personified. Bubba is the left side of the brain, logical, analytical, focused on math and science. Craftycorn is the right side of the brain, creative and imaginative, focused on the arts and self-expression. They represent learning and academia in all its forms, the different ways people engage with and understand the world.

-

Hoppy Hopscotch and Kickin' Chicken form the sportsmanship duo. They are both portrayed as enjoying sports and the outdoors, but in different ways that highlight the different ways sports can be played and enjoyed and also what it entails to be successful at them. Hoppy Hopscotch may be loud and impatient, but she is also a team player, shown in her willingness to slow down her fast pace to make sure none of her friends are left behind. Kickin' Chicken, on the other hand, is laid-back, relaxed, and chill, the described "cool kid" of the group, but he's also described as having a ton of perseverance, more of a "slow and steady wins the race" type of person.

-

This leaves Bobby Bearhug and Picky Piggy as the last pair. Fittingly, these two are all about how to meet the fundamental needs of yourself and others. Bobby teaches children how to nourish themselves emotionally through showing and receiving care from others, while Picky teaches them how good food is important to nourish the body and soul. Depriving oneself of either of these things only makes oneself and therefore everyone around one miserable, because those fundamental needs are no longer being met.

-

Like fr, this is some pretty genius marketing right here. You have enough characters that every kid will have their favorite, but not so many that any would get lost in the shuffle, because the lessons each one of them would teach would be integral to the group as a whole. It really makes me that much sadder we saw basically nothing of the Smiling Critters during the game itself, because Mob Games struck gold with this concept, only to ultimately do nothing with it. :/

But I guess that's what fandom is for, eh?

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #smiling critters #dogday #catnap #picky piggy #kickin chicken #hoppy hopscotch #bobby bearhug #craftycorn #bubba bubbaphant #xi writes #tbh that 'slow and steady wins the race' comment makes me really wish Kickin' Chicken was a turtle instead #just to drive home that parallel even further #ngl i've been thinking about making this post for ages but i finally got off my butt and did it #me holding the Smiling Critters like Marge Simpson holding a potato: I just think they're neat! #it'd be a shame if the game company that came up with them never DID anything with them HUH MOB GAMES? #mob games don't walk away from me #MOB GAMES GET BACK HERE I HAVE THOUGHTS-

[amidnightjen]

“A toothbrush?” Hen repeats, eyebrows high and tone extremely dubious.

“A toothbrush,” Eddie confirms.

“Your girlfriend broke up with you because of a toothbrush?” Ravi clarifies, he’s not the only one seeking that clarification either, Eddie can tell he beat Chim to the question only because he didn’t have his mouth full.

“Yes,” Eddie confirms (again), sounding a little more disgruntled this time about it.

Chim finally swallows his mouthful to ask, “Is this like a metaphor?”

Eddie shrugs. “I don’t know.” And he doesn’t, that’s the thing. He’s got no damn idea why a toothbrush (of all things) had Marisol breaking things off before they’d even really gotten started.

“I’m going to need more than this,” Hen says. “What kind of toothbrush?”

Exasperated, all Eddie can say is, “I don’t know - a toothbrush.”

“I mean,” Chim says thoughtfully, “did she not like the colour? Were the bristles too hard? Maybe it wasn’t about the toothbrush but the toothpaste on the brush - do you have weird toothpaste taste?”

That earns Chim a confused look from everyone but he just shrugs which Eddie finds fair because he honestly doesn’t know. “I don’t have weird toothpaste,” Eddie defends.

“I like your toothpaste,” Buck announces, dropping down into the chair beside Eddie. “Why are we talking about Eddie’s toothpaste?”

“We’re talking about Eddie’s toothbrush,” Hen clarifies and even as she does, she looks like she can’t believe that’s a sentence she’s found herself saying.

“Eddie’s toothbrush?” Buck repeats, sounding just as confused as when he thought they were talking about toothpaste.

“Not my toothbrush,” Eddie groans. “It wasn’t even mine!”

“Wait,” and this comes from Bobby who looks as though he can’t believe he’s joining in this conversation, “Marisol broke up with you because of Christopher’s toothbrush?”

“Marisol broke up with you?” Buck says, “Sorry man.”

Eddie waves off Buck’s words, he’s not all that broken up about it honestly, just genuinely stuck on how a toothbrush could possibly be reason enough to break up with someone. “No it wasn’t Chris’ toothbrush, Jesus.”

“I’m so confused,” Buck said.

“Me too,” added Ravi.

But Hen, Hen had a look on her face and there was a note in her voice he couldn’t identify as she asked, “Whose toothbrush was it?”

“Buck’s.”

And Eddie has no idea why that is suddenly explanation enough for everyone.

Well except Buck.

#may writing challenge #911 fanfic #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #firefam #henrietta wilson #chimney han #ravi panikkar #bobby nash #implied buddie #implied pre-relationship buddie

[cosmicanakin]

Mile High Club

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

Pairing. Dean Winchester x Female Reader.

Outline. You and Dean slip away from Sam and Bobby for a moment to indulge Dean's neediness in the backseat of the Impala.

Warning(s). Smut (P in V – wrap it up folks), Praising, Explicit Language, Semi Public Sex, Pet Names, & Sam teasing both Dean & Reader.

Word Count. 984

Authors Note. I know that I've been slacking with writing nowadays, I'm so sorry. I was—am focusing on myself to better my mental health. But to make up for it, I give you this. So I hope you're taking good care of yourselves & I love you so much. Enjoyyyy!

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Here you were, bouncing feverishly on Dean Winchester’s cock in the backseat of the Impala, his hands gripping your hips as he moaned in pure ecstasy.

The case you were supposed to be working on with Sam and Bobby was the furthest thing from your mind right now. All that mattered was the delicious friction building between your bodies, the way Dean’s thick, throbbing length filled you up so perfectly.

“That’s it, baby,” Dean growled, voice gravelly with lust. “Ride my dick just like that. You’re such a good girl, taking me so well.”

You whimpered, your nails digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders as you picked up the pace, your hips rolling and grinding against him in a desperate rhythm. The sounds of your bodies joining together echoed through the confines of the car, only spurring Dean on further.

“Fuck, you feel so goddamn good,” he groaned, his fingers tightening their grip on your hips. “My gorgeous little slut, riding me so fucking good.”

The praise sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, and you felt the familiar coil of tension building deep within you. You were so close, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, and Dean could tell.

“Go ahead, darlin’, come for me,” he demanded, his thumb brushing against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Show me how much you love my cock.”

With a sharp cry, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, your body trembling as wave after wave of mind-blowing pleasure washed over you. Dean followed closely behind, his hips snapping up into you as he spilled himself deep inside.

For a moment, the only sounds were the heavy panting of your breaths and the occasional contented hum from Dean. Then, finally, he pulled you down for a searing kiss, his hands caressing your flushed skin.

“Damn, Y/N, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. “I could do this all day.”

You chuckled breathlessly, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw. “As much as I’d love to, we should probably get back to helping Sam and Bobby,”you said, reluctantly lifting yourself off of him.

Dean groaned in protest, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs again. “Do we have to?” he whined, his eyes pleading. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You laughed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Yes, we have to,” you said firmly, already starting to redress. “The sooner we get this case wrapped up, the sooner we can come back here and pick up where we left off.”

Dean pouted, but he knew better than to argue. With a resigned sigh, he began to clean himself up, already mentally planning all the ways he was going to ravish you once this job was done.

Bonus Part.

By the time you and Dean finally emerged from the Impala, faces flushed and clothes slightly disheveled, Sam was waiting for you with a knowing smirk on his face.

“Well, well, look who decided to join us,” he quipped, his eyes flickering between you and his brother. “And just where have you two been, hmm?”

You felt your cheeks burning with embarrassment, your mind racing to come up with a plausible excuse. But one glance at Dean’s guilty expression told you that Sam already knew exactly what you two had been up to.

“We, uh, we were just—” Dean began, only to be cut off by the gruff voice of Bobby, who came storming out of the motel room.

“Where the hell have you two idjits been?” he growled, his brow furrowed in frustration. “We’ve been waitin’ on you for over an hour! Sam and I could’ve used your help, you know.”

You cringed, fully prepared for the tongue-lashing you and Dean were about to receive. But to your surprise, Sam stepped in, his expression far too innocent to be believable.

“Oh, I’m sure they were, uh, otherwise occupied,” he said, his lips twitching with amusement. “Isn’t that right, you two?”

Dean shot his brother a withering glare, but Sam only grinned, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. You wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground, your mortification notable.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, boy?” Bobby demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Sam chuckled, jerking his thumb in your direction. “Well, let’s just say our dear friend Y/N here has been, uh, keeping Dean “company” while the rest of us were working."

Your mouth fell open in shock, and you could practically feel the heat radiating from Dean's body as he shifted uncomfortably beside you. Bobby’s eyes widened with realization, and a gruff, disapproving grunt escaped his lips.

“Oh, for the love of—” he muttered, shaking his head in exasperation. “You two idjits couldn’t keep it in your pants for five minutes, could you?”

You felt the embarrassment coursing through you, and you resisted the overwhelming urge to bury your face in your hands. But Dean, ever the quick-witted one, managed to find his voice.

“Hey, come on, it’s not our fault you two were taking forever!” he protested, his tone defensive. “We were just, you know, passing the time.”

Sam burst out laughing, slapping his knees in amusement. “Oh, I’ll bet you were,” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Just try to keep it in your pants from now on, huh? We’ve got work to do.”

With that, he turned and headed back towards the motel room, leaving you and Dean to face the wrath of a thoroughly exasperated Bobby. As the older hunter launched into a lecture about professionalism and work ethic, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the most embarrassed you’d ever been in your life.

But as you glanced over at Dean, the sheepish grin on his face told you that he wouldn't have had it any other way.

#﹙ kari writes 𝜗𝜚 ﹚ #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester imagines #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #sam winchester #bobby singer #supernatural #spn #supernatural smut #supernatural angst #supernatural fluff #spn fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction

[bmodiwrites]

Eddie sits stoically outside his gate at the airport. His flight's been delayed three times now and there's no sign of that status changing. He curses his manager for the billionth time that day - Eddie wanted to drive from the start. Now, he's stuck in an airport surrounded by unhappy people, impatient workers, and a teenaged boy that keeps staring at him.

It's understandable, the stare. Eddie has his customary airport garb on; he's so recognizable no matter what he does, it's pointless to try and hide. Instead, he wears a beanie pulled over his curls so they're not so prominent, while big framed glasses sit on his nose to obscure the odd color of his eyes. After years of avoiding fans, Eddie knows it's all about blending in, not standing out. Though he's doing a good job of exactly that, some people are more persistent than others.

The young boy stares at him with an intensity that's kind of unsettling. Eddie knows that the kid knows who he is, there's no use trying to ignore that any longer. For some odd reason, Eddie's music is starting to become popular with the new aged teens. Despite not understanding what his heavy rock music does for a youngster not raised in the age of metal, he's trying to get behind a different fanbase starting to flock towards his creations. Maybe it's the timeless look Eddie's never allowed to be taken from him that draws in all the new fans. Whatever the reason, Eddie's now being recognized by high school kids all over the place.

Trying to avoid any sort of confrontation, Eddie gets up from his seat to check the flight's status on the departures board. It's bittersweet to see that nothing has changed. Sucking in a breath, Eddie heads back to where he was - except, the kid from before is sitting a couple chairs down from him instead of across the way. There's a brief second where Eddie thinks about ignoring the kid and moving on all together. Something stops him and he moves to sit down, instead.

It takes all of ten minutes for the boy to lean over and say "you're Eddie Munson, right?" It's whispered and done in such a conspiratorial tone that Eddie can't help but laugh. His previous thoughts about grunting out an answering affirmative and signing a quick autograph fly from his head. Suddenly, the cure for boredom is right in front of him.

In answer to the kids question, Eddie brings a finger to his lips in a 'shh' motion and winks. The flush of redness that overtakes the teen's cheeks is worth the extra ten minutes he's going to have to take out of his day to answer what are more than likely going to be inane questions. He's surprised then, when the kid starts talking about himself, instead.

"I'm trying to make it to my Uncle's place for the holidays. My parents, they decided they didn't want me around anymore and he's the only family I have." There's a pause just long enough for the kid to take a breath before he continues. "I've never not been with my family for New Year's." His tone is wistful and sad, familiar to Eddie in such a visceral way that he ditches his attitude and actually listens. His story sounds like Eddie's before Wayne took him under his wing. He understands this kid more than the boy will ever know.

"Home is where you create it, kid. You'll come to see that the family you make is exactly what you've always needed. The right people will come into your life. Just give it some time." Eddie wishes someone told him that all those years ago. The journey to the peace he now feels was a long one, one that took a lot of grit and determination to make it through.

Eddie thinks that might be the end of it, but the kid eventually speaks up again. "Where's home for you? The internet doesn't have much information on Corroded Coffins' coveted lead singer." That gets a snort out of Eddie which makes his young friend smile wide. It's a nice enough look that Eddie throws caution to the wind and answers honestly. There's a reason his personal life is so hard to keep track of but this kid is more than likely not a threat.

"That's a complicated question. I spend more time on the road than I do in any permanent place." It's enough of his current reality to answer the kid's question, but it's not the entirety of it. The piece of his life he always leaves out makes his chest ache like it has been for the past fifteen years. The world isn't ready for a truth like that.

Though, Eddie's never met someone like the teenager looking at him so curiously. There's a knowing gleam in his eye that makes him think of Dustin sitting at the D&D table. He's about to get hit with something profound that Eddie's got know idea how to handle.

"Kind of a cop out answer, don't you think? I'm not some fancy reporter - who am I going to tell?" There's an edge to the kid's voice now, one that makes Eddie think he's been brushed off a time or two too many.

With a sigh, Eddie turns more fully to the kid, dropping his voice so it's clear it's important that only the two of them hear what he's about to say. "Home isn't a place for me. There's a person in my life that acts as an anchor, no matter where I am. He's - " Eddie falters for a second and quickly corrects himself "they're usually here with me but our best friend just had her second baby. I wouldn't be so worried about getting anywhere with such impatience usually, but home is calling."

Suddenly, Eddie understands why the kid looks so damn sad - why, after knowing that Eddie didn't really want to talk, he persisted, anyway. The look that crosses over that innocent little face says it all. Eddie's slip up in mentioning the one that calls him home bridges a gap he doesn't even know is there until he's on the other side of the divide standing next to some strange yet familiar soul. The boy looks close to tears, though they appear to the happiest kind one could cry.

"It gets better, kid. I promise you that." The words are out of Eddie's mouth before he can stop them, but that doesn't really matter. The look of hope that crosses over his face is more than enough for Eddie. He knows he's in the clear with this fan, his secrets are safe. For once, Eddie's glad to be right where he is, sharing something about himself with a random stranger.

Especially when the kid says "I can't wait to have that," in this dreamy tone Eddie hasn't heard since he was a teen himself. It's invigorating and enough of an eye opener that Eddie jumps out of his seat.

Digging into his bag, Eddie finds one of his personal business cards, holds it out to the kid with a grin. "If you need a reminder you're not alone. It was good to meet you - " Eddie stops then, waiting for the kid to fill in the blank.

"I'm Xander, Xander Cole. It was nice to meet you, Eddie Munson." Xander blushes and drops his head to take in a breath. "Thank you. For what you said."

Nodding casually, like he didn't just change someone's life, Eddie beams one last smile over at him. "Good luck, Xander. I've got to get home now."

Eddie doesn't wait to see the way Xander's brightens or the knowing grin that starts to overtake his young face. The kid will never understand just what he's done for Eddie, how he's helped him, too. There's a special sort of joy that comes from knowing the little things in life, like having empathy and being a good person, still matter. Xander's got a life full of challenges ahead of him but Eddie's confident the kid is smart enough to figure himself out. After all, he set Eddie straight.

It's a long haul of a drive that feels like a thousand miles by the time Eddie's pulling into Robin's driveway. Virginia is a gorgeous place that Eddie's never taken the time to appreciate. Driving through it gave him the chance to take in the thick foliage draped in picturesque snow. There's nothing like the glint of sunrise off a blanket of freshly fallen powder. Eddie's already writing lyrics about it in the back of his head.

He's impatient to get out of the car, though, so Eddie doesn't worry about his luggage or the presents he's got with him, or even the day old clothes that are still covering his body. Shaky hands slam the car into park and he's out of his seat before it's probably safe to be. The keys are still in the ignition, he's so impatient.

The warmth of familiarity and comfort engulf Eddie the moment he steps inside. There's a bit of noise in the house, though it's still pretty early in the morning. He tries to be quiet as he walks further into the house but Eddie's Eddie - a klutz through and through. His elbow bangs against the banister as he treads through the foyer. It's enough of a commotion to halt the movement in the kitchen before what seems like a stampede comes barreling towards him.

Eddie's breath catches when he sees Steve standing there, looking right back at him. They stare for a moment, both caught up on the feeling of finally coming home. Always the first one to lose patience, Eddie narrows the space down between them until Steve's in his arms. The hug they share is fierce and firm, much like the intensity and stability of the relationship they've been building for years upon years. Xander reminded him that family is what's important, that home, no matter the person, or place, is worth the hassle of an unscheduled trip.

As they break apart, Steve presses a kiss to the tip of his nose, making the both of them smile. "You're here earlier than we expected. Robin said you wouldn't make it before the ball dropped." Steve kisses Eddie again, lingering in his space. "Glad you decided to prove her wrong."

"That's my main mission in life, sweetheart," Eddie says, reaching up to brush some stray hair from Steve's forehead. There's a chuckle and then a soft hand on Eddie's cheek guiding him back to look directly in Steve's eyes.

"Welcome home, Eddie."

Grinning, Eddie whispers "there's no place like you, Stevie" before finally leaning in and kissing Steve's lips.

It really is good to be home.

click for part two here

#steddie #stranger things #happy new year #ficlets #bobbie writes #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #steddie au #steddie fics #holiday shit #there's no place like you

[firstprincewrites]

This Magnetic Force Of A Man

Henry is captivated by Alex Claremont-Diaz, there's no other way to describe the heat in his belly or the instant infatuation. For a long time, Henry is hopeless, dreaming a dream that seems so far away. When a media disaster strikes and things change for the better, Henry is left overwhelmed by the intensity of Alex - the man himself is a force to be reckoned with. In their heavier moments, Henry leans into the soft grip of dark curls, leans into the feeling of being grounded by another. Read to find out how Henry navigates all the big moments in their relationship, one hair pull at a time.

Caught Beneath the Landslide

What if Henry hadn't been emotionally unavailable leading to him being rude to Alex upon first meeting him in Melbourne? What if, instead of hating each other, their relationship starts right then and there? Come find out what happens when Henry and Alex find themselves growing up together, nursing a connection, and navigating hurdles in life without the fear of being alone in the fight. What could our boys possibly get up to now?

When Everything's Made To Be Broken

Henry is happy to be back at Etton College for his senior year but that's thrown off course by the president's son untimely arrival. A personal catastrophe brings Alex to England to rain on Henry's parade - at least, that's what the Prince thinks when the First Son arrives. Soon, Henry finds that there's a lot more to Alex and the relationship meant to exist between them.

Keep Breaking Me In

After a long night, Henry isn't expecting Shaan to knock on his door to bring bad news. Yet, his equerry stands there with a sheepish look on his face, nonetheless. Henry is quick to find out that Phillip got his hands on a damning video and plans to use it as a way to dishonorably discharge Henry from military service. Too bad Phillip doesn't recognize the other man in the video - Alex Claremont-Diaz is a high caliber Civil Rights lawyer just waiting to defend instances just like this.

Try To Document This Light

Buying the brownstone is both the start of Henry's path away from the crown and a concrete future for himself and Alex. It's a place he can call home with the man that he loves, a place where they can grow, change, and shift into the men they're going to be for the world to come. After a lifetime of not really belonging anywhere, Henry finds a space that's truly his. Read to catch little peaks into his life with Alex and what the future has in store for them between the walls of that simple little brownstone.

Just the Thought Of You (Gets Me So High)

"Amy helped me plan it." What went into Henry's ocean crossing surprise? What were his thoughts going to the DNC where he'd finally see Alex on the stage, doing what he loves & looking amazing while doing it? Read to find out Henry's side of things as the night of the DNC unfolds.

I Like That Thing You Do

Ever since the first polo match Alex attended, his obsession with Henry on a horse has only grew. Years into their relationship, Alex is still hanging onto the pitch's fence, watching with rapt fascination. Read to find out what happens when Phillip asks a question that creates a lust monster Alex can't control. No one ever said those white pants Henry wears aren't meant to be destroyed.

With the View In the Morning (You Won't Ever Go Back)

Despite being together just shy of a year, the night of the election is a first for both Alex and Henry. After sneaking away to linger in their victory, Henry is surprised by Alex's initiative. They're on his home court so Henry is expecting the usual but Alex has something different in mind. The shift is enough to knock Henry's world off kilter in the best of ways. Read to find out how Henry survives his first time topping.

Can We Dance In the Dark?

"Who would you be?" "Be a writer. Live in Paris." Inspired by this beautiful quote, this fic follows Henry Fox, a writer who's famous for crafting stories about a fictional prince - The Royal Blue series follows James through the trials and tribulations of being young, royal, and gay as a maypole. He loves what he does but inspiration is dry. He can't find the words and is severely stuck in a bout of writer's block. To try and abate it, Henry takes David for a walk - fate, the dear she is, finds a way to intervene. After a collision, Henry comes face to face with Alex Claremont-Diaz, law student and first son of the United States. Read to find out how their relationship develops into something worth writing about.

This Happily Ever After

For such a natural, easy sort of relationship like Alex and Henry's, there is a lot of weight on their shoulders. Despite themselves, they're making history with each new step they take in their relationship. It's a good thing, then, that neither man is a stranger to the limelight. When Alex teases about them making history, Henry doesn't know how deep that comment will run or how true it actually is. Read to catch a few pieces of Alex & Henry's relationship where they make their own history. Sometimes, two people are meant to shape the world, no matter the circumstance. Or - 5 times Alex jokes about making history and 1 time Henry reciprocates.

#firstprince #first prince #alex x henry #firstprince fic #firstprince fluff #rw&rb movie #rwrb film #rw&rb fanfic #rw&rb #red white and royal blue movie #alex claremont diaz #alex #henry fox mountchristen windsor #prince henry of wales #henry #bobbie writes #masterlist #firstprince masterlist

[webethepeachesfromrockford]

Hey, saw you taking prompts and would love to see Jess/Lupe where Jess is playing something in her guitar.

Oh boy, I'm so excited to see a Jess/Lupe prompt! I play the guitar myself so I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you like it!! Drop your prompts/requests/ideas here!

The guitar is something that Jess uses to destress. Being surrounded by so many people growing up, Jess found a way to escape by teaching herself how to play. Now that's she's good and knows quite a few songs, it's nice just to fold herself into the familiar movement of her fingers over the strings when the pressure starts to become too much. She may be quiet but the world isn't. Everyone in the house is loud and always screaming for some kind of attention, even if they're not saying anything at all. In the later parts of the night when everyone is tucked in, Jess can sit on the porch and play through her arsenal without being disturbed. Of course that means her sanctuary becomes unsafe one evening when Lupe opens the door with a curious look on your face.

"You're pretty good," Lupe says, sitting down on the step next to Jess. She's close but not close enough for their elbows to brush. It's odd that Jess feels somewhat bereft at the thought. Lupe isn't her usual type but the bond they've formed is enticing and comfortable, it makes her feel things she's not sure what to do about. There's something attractive in Lupe's spirt that pulls Jess in like a moth to a flame. Closing her eyes for a second, Jess gets her thoughts under control and shrugs, trying to play it cool.

She reaches up to place the cigarette that's always behind her ear in her mouth, speaking around it. "I've been playing for a decade." Jess runs her thumb down all six of the strings, making a cacophony of sounds that don't make any sense. She tries not to look over at Lupe but it's more difficult than expected. Her head tilts as Jess tries to be smooth in the way she stares. It's too bad that Lupe is looking back at her with a small little smile playing across her lips. While she doesn't say anything out loud, the play of her expression speaks plenty. It's silent for a while, they sit together and look out into the night. Lupe striking a match to light first her own and then Jess's cigarette breaks up the easy atmosphere.

"Do you play for other people? Or just yourself?" Lupe asks, taking a long drag of her smoke. Jess copies her, thinking about the way she wants to answer the question. She's not known for doing anything for other people. Her time on the field is the only exception. Maybe that's not completely true but Jess tries to convince herself it is. Life is sticky and made more so by letting others in. There's a part of her that thinks it's already too late for that. The tingle of her elbow as Lupe shifts to bring the cigarette away from her mouth says so loud and clear.

Clearing her throat, Jess nods while she takes in some smoke. She doesn't say anything until the cloud she exhales disappears. "What do you want to hear?" Her range is pretty decent and if she knows Lupe, it'll end up being Jess's choice, anyway. She's right because Lupe tells her to play whatever she likes the best. In a lot of ways, that makes the decision harder because Jess likes a lot and she wants to impress Lupe. Her fingers end up making the decision as they shape around the notes to "Somewhere Over the Rainbow". Watching the movie made her want to learn it, so she played it from memory until it became perfect. She plays it flawlessly now, moving over the frets with ease. The notes linger when the song comes to an end. Jess closes her eyes and lets the reverberation pass through her chest - the tactile nature of the instrument is one of the reasons she loves it so much. The vibration of her chest and the callouses on her fingers bring her comfort like nothing else does.

Except maybe the warmth of Lupe leaning into her. Jess's breath catches before she can stop it. The gasp is audible but not unwanted in the still of the night. Without the guitar playing, the crickets are the only thing making any noise. It's serene to be sitting there with Lupe so close. Jess doesn't dare move in fear of disturbing the peace.

It becomes a thing after a while. Jess is never surprised to see Lupe out of the corner of her eye as she sits down to listen to the evening's playlist. She learns a little Charlie Parker because Lupe seems to like Jazz. On the rare occasion that her friend is feeling confident, Jess has the pleasure of hearing Lupe hum along. It doesn't happen often but it's worth the money she spends on sheet music to learn songs that are foreign to her, but good in their own right. It doesn't help that Jess's crush is becoming a living, breathing thing she nurses in hopes of Lupe some day feeling the same.

They're a couple weeks away from the end of the season when the dam finally breaks. Tiptoeing the line with Lupe extends further than the porch they share on most evenings. It's in the dugout and on the field and in the bars where Jess has stopped picking up every girl that throws herself onto the toes of her dirty shoes. The tension is palpable and Jess can't handle it anymore. She doesn't want to leave Rockford without putting a piece of herself on the line. Maybe it's a mistake but Jess isn't where she is in life without making a few.

Lupe is leaned up against her pulling on a cigarette when Jess nudges her. She sits up to look over her shoulder but freezes when she sees the look that Jess is giving her. There's a second where it all feels like a mistake and then they're meeting in the middle. It's a little awkward with the guitar that's still around Jess's neck but they make it work. It's quick but perfect in the way it makes Jess feel right like only Lupe can do off the field. They're outside so it doesn't turn into anything other than tapered off kisses that eventually lead to the two of them leaning their foreheads together. The moment they're sharing is enough for now. A promise lingers in the air that makes it okay to linger in the happiness that surrounds them on those stairs without the pressure for more.

Jess likes the guitar to escape but there's more to it now. She likes to play for Lupe who watches Jess's fingers move through the songs, who sings when the words come to her, who, after months of being stubborn, is soft in the way she embraces Jess for who she is - rough exterior and all.

#jess mccready/lupe garcia #jess x lupe #jess mccready x lupe garcia #a league of their own #lupe garcia #jess mccready #aloto #a league of their own series #writing prompts #bobbie writes

[the-ace-with-spades]

Eddie knew Buck was going to cry the first time Chris called him any variation of dad.

It'd been weeks since Chris asked Eddie about this and he'd been thinking about what to call Buck because I can't call you both dad, it'll get confusing. He had concluded that he was too big for daddy, father was way too serious for Buck, and they didn't talk enough in Spanish for papi to sound natural for Chris.

Despite that, Eddie wasn't surprised when finally, while Eddie and Bobby were lying the table at Athena's place and Buck was entertaining the kids with Maddie, he heard Chris grumble at Buck's lame joke, "Pops, that's so embarrassing."

He had expected Buck to cry and he did cry and he was holding Jee at that moment so she started crying, too, when she noticed her uncle crying and it looked comical.

Eddie couldn't not smile at the scene, fond.

He had expected Buck to cry but what he hadn't expected was for Bobby to cry.

And yet here he was, still holding a plate in his hands, practically sobbing silently next to Eddie.

"You know, Buck used to call me Pops too."

"He did?" Eddie asked because he didn't know what to do - he wasn't best at comforting people in general but that had just taken him aback on whole another level. "Why did he stop? I'm pretty sure you're more of a dad to him than his own father."

"I told him the station isn't a family," Bobby said. "Then I fired him."

Eddie had heard that Buck's been fired straight out of probation, but he had never heard the details. Definitely nothing about this.

"He got the job back on the same day but he has never called me Pops again since."

"Maybe you should tell him to call you that again, then," Eddie said, pointedly. "You know he's not the sharpest tool in the shed about this stuff."

#I'm rewatching season 1 again #its a crime they just threw in that pops thing and never came back to it #911 fox #911 abc #buddie #bobby nash #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #buckley diaz family #this was part of a fic i'll never finish btw #op #charlie writes

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

I’m in a Steddie hyperfixation right now & would love some prompts! Stop by the inbox to see your idea written.

#steddie #stranger things #steve/eddie #steddie fanfic #my boy my boys #bobbie writes

[linseymorris]

#lucas sinclair #caleb mclaughlin #eleven #jane hopper #el hopper #millie bobby brown #hopclair #chewieblog #userbbelcher #cinematv #* #dailystrangerthings #stedit #st4edit #strangerthingsedit #TWO DIFFERENT APOLOGIES BOTH MAKE ME CRY I LOVE MY CHILDREN SO MUCH #i could write an entire novel about them but i'll spare everyone #if they don't get significant scenes together in s5 we swarm the duffer estates with pitchforks #st #stranger things