#But I love 10mph so much

[black-and-yellow]

If you watch the Ten Minute Power Hour let me know your favourite moments, I feel like sketching some chaotic scenes.

[vaguelylikeabutt]

10 minute power hour patreon extras - s3e17 - “hair stylists”

[tao-lay]

[hotluncheddie]

For the lovely @sidekick-hero as part of @steddiesummerexchange

Using the prompt 'meet ugly' which was so fun and pushed me to do some new stuff! so thank you! i hope you enjoy!! 🫂

Ao3 | wc: 6.2k | rated: M | cw: panic attacks | tags: 90's AU, No Upside down, Meet-ugly, Platonic Hellcheer, Background Buckingham, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Yoga Instructor Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson needs a hug

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‘Munson, this, there’s nothing here man.’ His manager sighs, looking over Eddie’s scribbled notes. 

Eddie sucks another lungful of his cigarette. arms and legs crossed on the too soft office sofa, foot tapping. 

He knows. 

Of course he knows. 

It’s shit. 

All of it. 

Disjointed song ideas and cord progressions that don’t work outside of a shitty blue grass wannabe and the weird none metal bullshit that somehow got him here; that people keep insisting is grunge.

‘You have till mid June, ready for Lollapalooza in July. Label said so.’ And Jake is a good guy, a good manager, but Eddie wants to rip his skin off and never see this ugly fucking Chicago office building or anyone in it. Ever. Again. 

He wants to write. He wants to create, and perform. 

But he can’t. 

It all shit. There’s nothing here. 

-

He speeds down the interstate. Foot pressing on the accelerator, pressing steadily harder and harder. The speedometer ticking up 10mph, more, 20, more. 

‘Shit, fuck.’ Eddie curses, trying to light the cigarette at his lips. Lighter sparking but no quick catching flame, just the click and fizz, dead. ‘Stupid. Fucking.’ He sniffs, scrubbing at his eyes, tears leaving sticky tracks across his cheeks. 

‘FUCKER!’ He shouts, throwing the shitty bic lighter out of the passenger window, into the inky blackness, scrubbing at his eyes again. 

He can’t fucking see. He needs a fucking cigarette. 

He’s running out of gas, fast. Rain starting to fall, heavy and sleeting. His hissy fit can’t last forever, but the itch is still under his skin. Mind blank to anything that could be remotely useful. He’s so creatively drained it’s a joke. A mean fucking joke handed out by god himself. 

Because Eddie had his whole life to write that album. To pour his brain out and stick it together into a mangled beautiful little thing. 

And now he’s expected to do the same thing. In months. 

And he knows. He knows, it’s possible, and it’s been done, and he has thoughts and feeling and music left inside him. 

But it’s hard. And he’s scared. 

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever write another song again. Dry to the bone. Like his Dad always expected. Always knew. Knew he had nothing in him. Good for nothin’. 

Snot drips onto his top lip. He, he can’t see. ‘Fuck.’ He whispers - he. 

The lights of a gas station shine up ahead. 

Tiredness dripping down into his bones, suddenly. 

Eddie pulls off, parks off at the side. 

Punches the steering wheel till his knuckles go bloody. 

‘W-wayne ‘m sorry, I, I just can’t Wayne.’ Eddie stutters into the receiver. The distance between then crackling. Cold wind rattles the glass walls of the little gas station payphone. 

‘Ed’s? I need ya to take a breath for me kid.’ Wayne’s voice sounds deeper through the phone, more smoky. 

Eddie’s hands are shaking so hard he shoves one up under his armpit, can barely feel his fingers, tucking his elbow in close and squeezing. Stomping his feet, trying to ground himself into this time and space. He breaths in through his mouth and nose, shuddering as he tries to get as much air as possible into his frame. Blood pumping loud in his ears, and he still can’t fucking see. 

‘That’s it son, and again for me.’ Wayne says, in the same tone he says most things; calm and plain, for as long as Eddie can remember. 

He only heard his uncle raise his voice a couple of times, and never once over Eddie. It was always the disappointed looks that would get under his skin, keep him on the straight and narrow (or, not straight, and mostly narrow), kept him safe.

The main one that Eddie remembers, was when his dad came. 

His dad came to try and get him, take him home, wherever that was, whatever that meant. Wayne lost his shit, as much as Wayne can. Held his hunting gun too close to his dads heart and told him brother-in-law to ‘Get! Out!’ 

Eddie had hidden behind the arm of the sofa, crouched and only daring to peak over when he heard his dad huff, punching the doorframe once and stepping back to leave. ‘Fine, fine!’ He’d spat. ‘Don’t want the kid anyway.’ He glanced at Eddie then, a dark sort of indifference in his eyes. ‘Fucking useless.’

That darkness fills Eddie now, coating his lungs and stopping the air flowing through. His Dad’s right, he can’t be anything, not really. Doesn’t have it in him. 

Part of him is still there, cowering behind the couch. A coward, still now. Maybe always. 

‘You stop that right now Eddie y’hear? You might be yer Daddy’s son but you’re in no way him. Ain’t no way.’ Wayne says, stern. 

Eddie sobs, palm pressed across his eyes, fingers digging into his temple. ‘Fuck.’ He fucking, he just can’t. 

‘M’sorry Wayne. M’sorry. It’s so stupid but I nearly fucking killed him Wayne, if I wasn’t there he woulda’ got away, woulda’ got away fine.’ 

‘If you make one more excuse for that sack of shit Eddie I’m coming up there myself to talk it outa’ you.’ Wayne says. ‘You were a kid Ed, didn’t do nothin’ wrong other than trustin’ your own Daddy.’ Wayne’s voice softens, making sure Eddie’s still listening. ‘What happened wasn’t your fault kid.’ He says, like it’s final. 

‘Okay.’ Eddie takes a wet breath, shivering. ‘Yeah, okay Wayne, I hear ya.’ Closing his eyes, squeezing the receiver and rolling his forehead across the cool glass of the booth. 

‘You ring Chris for me now Ed, tell her you’ll be home soon. And I’ll ring tomorrow once ‘m off, leave you a message if you’re not in.’ Eddie sniffs again, a few more tears slipping down his cheeks. 

‘Ok Wayne.’ He agrees, it’s easier. He’s so tired. ‘Night.’ 

Eddie sneaks through the door, not sure if he wants a whole pity party right now. He kind of just wants to go to bed. 

Chrissys head pops up over the couch, looking at him with wide, wet eyes. 

Maybe he does want a little party, actually. He feels tears well in his lashes again. 

‘Hey Chris. I um, sorry for leaving. It uh, it’s bad again.’ He admits, voice cracking. 

‘Eddie.’ She soothes, coming around to him by the door and wrapping him in a hug. Holding him so tightly in her skinny arms. Too good for him. ‘I’m sitting with you while you ring the doctor tomorrow okay? And you’re coming to yoga with me Thursday.’ She says, wiping Eddie’s tears with her sleeve. ‘And I don’t want any buts mister.’ She mumbles darkly, squeezing his waist when Eddie snorts. 

‘Fine. I, fucking, anything to not feel like this anymore Chris.’ He sighs, he’s so tired. ‘Even fuckin’ yoga.’ And he knows she can hear his eyes roll but she just squeezes him again, humming. 

He buries his face in her neck. Taking deep breaths, till the shuddering goes away. 

-

They’re in the coffee shop below the yoga studio. Eddie’s anxious, already itching for another cigarette even though he finished his last one right before entering the cafe, not five minutes ago, shivering against the cold wind. He didn’t sleep last night, or get any words out, he just watched the shopping channel all curled up on the couch, biting his nails and wishing for something to come change him. 

But he’s here, as much as he doesn’t want to be. He trusts Chrissy, and the last call with the label about the very none negotiable schedule for a new song release in conjuncture with the tour has him ready to try anything. 

Even fucking yoga. 

‘I just don’t see how this is going he help Chrissy, it’s just breathing and shit.’ Eddie says loudly, stress making him obnoxious, the bell above the cafe door tinkling. ‘It’s not gonna help me get stronger. Plus it’s wrapped up in all that pseudoscience bullshit. Just trying to make money off unhappy people and their shit.’ He’s staring down and the flyer in his hand. They were on the counter and Chrissy had shoved it at his chest as she ordered. Probably a queue for him to shut up. 

‘Who the hell even is Stevie anyway?’ Eddie asks, flapping the paper around. It’s pink, with bold black writing and the outline of a striped flag in the corner. Hm. 

But no, gay yoga is still yoga, Eddie won’t be converted that easily. 

‘Chrissy, hey!’ Comes a deep voice from behind him, making Eddie jump. When he turns his arms fall limp at his sides. 

Golden skin and soft brown eyes. Hair that curls around his ears and sits on his head in a highlighted swoop; kinda messy, like he runs his fingers through it. Little gold hoop in his ear, neck covered in moles. Beautiful. 

They’re around the same height but this guy is broader, thick and sturdy with a layer of squish over his muscle, a layer of chest hair over his pecs, peaking out of his tank. He could suffocate Eddie with those thighs. Eddie could take great pride in holding all that bulk down, making him scre- 

‘Stevie! Hey!’ she beams. ‘Eddie meet Steve Harrington. And Stevie, this is Eddie Munson, my best friend.’ Chrissy say, introducing them and pulling the stranger into a side hug. 

Eddie can’t think straight. 

This, is Stevie?

The barista calls his name, Eddie coming back to himself to turn and grab his order. Plaster some kind of smile on his face in leu of an actual human greeting. 

Chrissys looking at him, smiling like she knows something. Knows more than Eddie does. 

He sips his tea. Doesn’t look at her. 

‘…Well nice to meet you man, I’ll see you both in there.’ Steve says, pointing his thumb towards the door. ‘just wanted to say hi. Gotta go prep some more pseudoscience bull before it all starts.’ He says, clapping. Smiling at Eddie like a fucking Stepford wife. Eddie gapes at him. Steve winks. 

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut. 

Slimy fucking guy. Eddie seethes, sipping his tea, watching Stevie leave. He looks like he could be the son of any of the record execs that’ve tried to fuck over Eddie’s music. Breathing down his neck to get another hit album, like Eddie has any control over that, can get himself to write anything like that again. Like he can handle the plans for a tour next spring, into the summer for festivals, said they want new songs to keep the fans interested. Fucking Steve looking at him like that, all spotless and put together and prefect and Eddie cannot fucking let this guy beat him. Not today. 

‘What does that look mean?’ Chrissy asks, amused. 

‘Means that I’m about to have the best fucking yoga session that guy has ever seen.’ Eddie says, still glaring at where Steve had just been. He hooks his arm through Chrissy’s and heads for the door. 

The studio is a renovated townhouse with hardwood floors and long windows. There’s a wall of mirrors and a bar across one wall, aerobics equipment stacked in the corner.

Eddie finds a spot with Chrissy nearer the back, but the rooms really not that big, he can see Steve’s set up at the front just fine. 

Chrissy leave his side to go pay, and apparently flirt with the tall freckled girl who’s taking said payments. Standing in the corner with a clipboard and a laugh that ends in a snort. That must be Robin, Chrissys long time yoga crush, and by the way Robin playful taps Chrissy on the head with her pen, she’s not doing too badly. 

Looking around Eddie’s surprised that there’s other people like him, with tattoos and some more visible piercings. 

Older ladies with pink in their hair. A younger guy with a cane and a Prince shirt on. People of different sizes, colours, shapes.  

Steve is making his way around the room, talking to people, he knows most of them by name. 

It’s. It’s almost nice. 

But when Eddie looks at Steve all he sees are the jocks who spat on him in high-school. The rich kids who said they couldn’t be friends because their parents found out he lives in a trailer. People who look at him with awkward, dead eyed pity when he mentions his uncle but not his parents. 

Steve walks over, snapping Eddie out of his head. ‘Hey, so Chrissy knows how it goes. But Eddie, I want you to take it easy tonight, okay? First session means you should be careful.’ 

Eddie leans back on his palms, festered. ‘Don’t think I can handle it Steven?’ 

Steve doesn’t take the bate, neutral face barely twitching. ‘Have you done yoga before?’ 

‘No’ 

Steve crosses his arms. ’Then no, I don’t think you can handle it actually. Last thing I want is you disturbing my class because you pulled a muscle being dumb, kay?’ 

Eddie just grunts, smiling at him in a little closed lipped sneer. Jerking his head and clenching his jaw. 

Stevie just rolls his eyes, walks away. 

Eddie hates him. 

Fucking yoga. How hard could it fucking be…

Eddie muscles are burning. He takes it back he takes it back. 

But he can’t let Steve know. Can’t bare to see that smug little smirk on his face again. 

‘Stay here if you're comfortable. But, if you want a little push tonight’ Steve says to the room, eyes flashing to Eddie in warning. ‘Move with me.’ And he bends down to touch the floor, hands then coming away, held in place by his core. 

‘Fuck’ Eddie grunts, tries releasing his hands but he comes too close to toppling over. His palms are sweating and his hair is sticking to his neck. Fucking yoga… 

‘Just breathing and shit right Munson?’ Steve says as Eddie spaces out on his mat, session over. Eddie can see more thigh at the angle, up the stupid fucking shorts Steve’s wearing. A little patch of sweat on his tank, sticking to his chest hair. 

‘Whatever Harrington.’ He grunts, forcing himself to sit up. Not looking Steve in the eye. 

Everything hurts. Even his fucking brain hurts from trying to imagine the smooth lake that Steve talked about during the ending meditation. Eddie couldn’t seem to imagine his without a ghostly pirate ship bobbing in the middle of the water. 

Fucking yoga. 

-

‘I hate him.’ 

‘Yeah sure, next thing you’ll be pulling his pigtails’ Chrissy rolls her eyes. ‘You don’t even know him, and I heard how well you slept after the session, your snoring woke me up Ed’s. Don’t give up just because the teacher is hot.’

‘He is not hot!’ Eddie seethes. 

He is so hot. So, so incredibly hot. 

Chrissy raises one eyebrow. 

‘Fine. I’ll keep going. but I hate him. ‘ 

-

One session, a few weeks in, Eddie feels it.

He dips down, back bending, coming out of downwards dog. Flowing onto his palms and toes. He breaths, feels his blood flow in his veins and his lungs fill. Rising back up and feeling the stretch in his feet, in his shoulders and hips. He breaths through it, moving with himself, connected to himself. 

Mind blank, room gone, just him and his breath. The smooth voice of Steve telling them to repeat. Eddie does. His eyes close and his mind smooths out. He flows. 

He doesn’t look at Steve again. Misses the glint in his eye, noticing the space Eddie holds on his mat, the tensions that’s been released. Misses Steve’s smile. 

Eddie breathes in. A chord progression plays in his mind. 

He breaths out. It plays again. 

It works perfectly with that scribbled line he re read this afternoon. 

Eddie breaths in. 

He goes home and writes. 

-

Winter eventually thaws and Spring begins slowly, slush still gripping to the sidewalks as the sun peaks through thick clouds. 

Eddie continues to work on demos, that don’t quite hurt so much to look at anymore, and goes to yoga once a week.

Twice a week for a couple weeks now, while Chrissy is away visiting family. Eddie doesn’t want to disturb her too much by phoning. But he misses her, the apartment too quiet, and empty. 

He gets to class early. Kind of exited to feel the stretch in his muscles tonight, see if he can hit the lower warrior stance he’s been working on. Any excitement sifts into annoyance though, once he sees Steve, mingling, in a bright pink shirt and shorts that sit way too high up on his thighs. Eddie’s not a prude, but, does he really need to see so much leg hair and smooth inner thigh when he’s trying to work out? Trying to relax?

‘Ready to feel the burn Munson?’ Steve asks as he saunters past him, clicking on the boombox as he goes

‘Bite me Harrington, ‘m not in the mood.’ Eddie says. annoyed. Always annoyed that Steve is still as fucking handsome as last time. Always so annoyingly handsome. 

He misses Chrissy. 

He’s annoyed

Steve’s shorts are too fucking short… 

Steve’s smug smile does not go unnoticed when Eddie actually falls asleep during the wind down meditation. Steve had skipped the ending applause and instead ushered everyone out quietly, leaving Eddie to sleep for a solid 20 minutes while he packed up. 

Eddie has glared, not able to extend any gratitude to that being the best sleep he’s had all week, his cheeks bright red at being caught. But Steve’s smugness seemed to be thawing with the ice. A softness to his eyes as he bid Eddie goodnight; once Eddie had wrapped himself back up in his winter coat for the walk home. 

Eddie couldn’t help but say goodnight back. ‘See you next week Harrington’ Didn’t seem to sound so bitter anymore. 

-

Eddie watches Chrissy try and show Robin an old cheer move, somehow moving topics once Chrissy had added her money to the pot. Robin’s arms don’t seem to stay straight for long enough, too distracted so she looses form. Chrissy giggling and reaching over to grab her wrist and squeeze. 

‘You two been dating long?’ Steve asks, suddenly next to Eddie and joining him in watching the two girls dance around each other. Eddie gives him such a look of confusion and judgment that Steve puts his hands up in defence. 

‘I’m joking dude, Rob’s been crazy about her for months. Too bad she’s too chicken shit to ask her out.’ 

‘I know, I’m honestly just glad she’s real, Chris wouldn’t shut up about her.’ 

‘Tell her to make it obvious, would you? More obvious that she would expect, Robbie needs that.’ And Steve is smiling, eyes sparking as he looks at them. 

Eddie nods, and he doesn’t know why he feels the need to say what’s he’s going to, why he needs to explain. Why he feels like Steve needs to know, but.: ‘We uh, both swing away from each other on the ol’ spectrum, just so, so that we’re clear.’ 

And Steve is looking at him. At the side of Eddie’s head, because he refuses to see what kind of face Steve is making. 

‘That right?’ Steve says quietly. ‘Well, good to know.’ 

Eddie.. he. ‘Good?’ 

‘Yeah good.’ And Steve’s voice is soft. And Eddie still doesn’t know why but, he blushes. 

And Steve’s moving away and calling Robin to start the session. 

Eddie doesn’t look up from his mat. 

-

He can’t be in the apartment anymore. Going stir crazy, buzzing, trapped in his own head. Its too early, class doesn’t start yet. But Eddie needs out. 

Chrissy isn’t going tonight, working late. The weatherman said there might be a thunder storm in the early hours. the rain already started, pelting his windows and sending a deep swirling ache dripping through Eddie’s nervous system. 

It’s raining so hard he can barely see in front of him but he manages to slop to the studio in one piece, waterproof and face dripping all over the floor. 

It’s warm, once he’s through the doors, the now familiar soft yellow lighting and smell of hardwood greeting him. 

He can hear laughing from the usual room. Moving closer can hear Robin and Steve giggling about something. 

Eddie slips through the door, not really sure what to do but he’s almost ready to admit that he craves the soft light of the familiar yoga room. 

He slips through the door and the first crack of lightning snaps in the distance. 

Steve is in a head stand, giggling and telling robin to knock it off, whatever she’s said making him almost loose his balance. 

Upside down Eddie can see Steve’s back, his T-shirt up around his shoulders. 

There’s old raised lines of jagged scars all along the planes of skin and muscle. Sewn back together and healed all wonky. 

Eddie’s mouth is dry as he stares at them. The muscles moving under Steve’s skin, the softness at his hips. Eddie gulps. 

His dad setting the stupid boat house on fire, once he’d heard the sirens, not leaving enough room between himself and the gasoline. Throwing the lighter while he was off balance. The flames licking his arms and face. He told Eddie to run. Eddie did. 

Eddies mat slips from his fingers and smacks against the floor. Steve coming down from his position and turning around, shirt falling back and covering him. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ Eddie stammers, not sure what about. His hands are sweating. Steve, with skin like that. He’s not his Dad, he’s not. 

Eddie doesn’t even know if his Dad is out of prison. The lightning cracks again, closer. It was raining the day of the verdict, the courthouses grey brick so waterlogged it looked black. 

Eddie can barely look at him. Who even is this guy? 

‘Hey man, you okay?’ Steve asks, voice soft and Eddie needs to leave. He needs to leave. 

‘Water.’ Eddie slips back out of the room, into the hallway and he speed walks down the corridor to the water cooler. Thudding his shoulder into the wall next to it and sliding down into a crouch. Thunder claps and rattles its deep booming cry. 

His breath is shaky, a little too fast. When he closes his eyes he sees the black smoke and orange flames licking the forest skyline as he ran. Feet pumping and sweat dripping into his eyes. His dad told him to run. So he had. Leaving him there. 

Eddie can barely breathe. He’s already run for so long, the sirens faint and distant. His dad’s cold eyes on him in the hospital; burns unit. In court. Wayne dragging Eddie home in tears. Soaking wet. 

His head jerks and smacks the wall behind him. Pulling him back to the present. The wet slap of his hair against his cheek. Eddie can’t breath, his hands are shaking and, and. 

Steve is crouched in front of him, lips moving but Eddie can’t hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. 

Steve counts on his fingers; one, two, three. Holding them up for Eddie to see. Then his other hand reaches forward and pokes Eddie in the sternum over his slimy waterproof. Steve breaths in, fingers counting again. Steve hold it, fingers. He breaths out, fingers. 

For the next round Eddie follows, hands shaking and cupping over his ears. He breaths in, unable to hold it but he breaths everything in his lungs out. Does it again. Following the count of Steve’s fingers. He has a plaster over his thumb. Eddie wonders what happened. Eddie’s breaths in, holds it for three, breaths out. 

Eventually Eddie can breathe on his own, still shaky, but consistent. The thunder and lightning having moved off into the distance. 

Steve gets him a cup of water from the cooler, handing it over slowly and Eddie grips it in both hands. ‘You scared me there Munson.’ He says without heat. 

‘Yeah I, sorry.’ Eddie cheeks burn, it’s been, a long time since he’s had one like that. 

‘S’okay. I know these are pretty scary.’ Steve motions to his back, shifting to sit against the wall next to Eddie. Sad sort of smile pulling on his lips. 

Eddie panics. ‘No, no that. They’re, they’re not.’ Because they really aren’t. He just, he wasn’t expecting it. 

‘I’m kidding Eddie, you’re good.’ Steve says, smiling for real now, small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Those will look pretty as he ages, Eddie’s thinks. He nods. 

Steve nods back, eyes Eddie, flicking over his face. ‘You wanna do class tonight? I can take you home?’ 

‘Oh uh no.’ Eddie drains his water. ‘I mean no, I want to do class. It um, it helps.’ He stares into the little plastic water cup. 

But in his peripheral, Steve is smirking, smug as shit and Eddie tries to scowl. But he just ends up hiding his grin behind his hair. 

‘Let me give you a lift home after though, yeah?’ Steve asks, bumping their shoulders together. ‘Storm isn’t due to let up until tomorrow and I can’t have one of my best students getting sick.’ Steve says, standing up from the floor with an ease that Eddie still envy's. Holding his big hands out to haul Eddie up. 

It takes a second to reorient himself, Steve is, Steve is pretty strong. ‘Uh, thanks. Thank you, Steve.’ He manages, squeezing Steve’s fingers once. 

‘Don’t mention it.’ And Steve’s eyes are soft and kind and endless. 

Eddie pulls away. Slips down the corridor and back into the studio. 

Steve’s car is nice. A beemer that’s a few years out but it looks like he takes care of it. The interior cream and the leather soft, it’s tidy, and there’s an air freshener hanging from the mirror, a pinup of a sailor. Eddie flicks it, smirking. 

‘Gift from Robin. We used to uh, work at a sailor themed ice cream shop. The uniforms were, really somethin’.’ Steve says with a pained sigh, pulling into the street. 

Eddie smiles, aggressively forcing his mind away from Steve in any kind of sailor uniform, steering towards safer territory. 

‘Can I?’ He asks, motioning to Steve’s little box of tapes at his feet. 

‘Have at it man.’ Steve says, squinting slightly and turning up the speed on his wipers. 

Eddie picks the new Queen tape, Steve has a decent collection, a lot of pop and some 70s rock. Eddie nodding his head slightly to “innuendo”. 

He sneaks glances at Steve as he drives. His hand big and veined where it rests on the gear shift. There are raindrops stuck in his arm hairs and the bomber he slipped on is dark across the shoulders. He doesn’t really look anything like those record execs, or their sons, probably. His socks are mismatched and there’s a spot of stubble on his upper lip that he must’ve missed this morning. He runs a yoga studio and is aggressively accommodating when he teaches. He always learns clients names before the end of their first session and he loves his best friend. 

Eddie feels his fringe sticking to his forehead, half sweat half rain. The car windows are slightly misted and he blinks a few times to clear his eyes. ‘Thanks, uh, thank you. For the lift man. You really didn’t have to.’ 

Steve smiles at him, glancing away from the road. Some of his hair has tucked itself into the his little hoop earring, something in Eddie’s chest softening. ‘Do you want to talk about it? Earlier?’

Eddie, he doesn’t. Not really. 

‘It was raining the day my dad got sent to prison. Thunder and lightning by the time my uncle could got me home.’ Eddie settles on, voice thick.

‘Fuck, Eddie. I’m so sorry.’ 

‘’S fine. I’m, he wasn’t that great of a dad.’ Eddie huffs, he really doesn’t want to get into that. 

Steve glances at him, smile sad. ‘I’ll cheers to that man. But yeah, still.’ He shrugs. 

‘Thanks. Um, if you take a left here my place is just at the end.’ Eddie says, quietly, tired. 

They arrive at the base of his apartment, the rain hammering on the roof and blurring the glow of the yellow streetlight. Eddie moves for the door, hand on the mat between his knees. 

‘Oh hey, wait, uh.’ Steve says, moving in a little closer. 

He reaches out, fingertips brushing the soft skin below Eddie’s eye. ‘Eyelash.’ He murmurs, holding the little hair up for Eddie to see. ‘Make a wish.’ 

Eddie swallows, feels the ghost of tear tracks still crusted over his cheeks. A boy just touched his cheek. He sniffs.

When he was a kid and his dad remembered his birthday he’d get Eddie a slice of pie from the diner. Linda who worked there always managed to find a candle out back for him; squeezing his shoulder and giving Eddie a smile that only read a little bit like pity. His dad would tell him to make a wish and ask for money, or fame, or for Al to one day own a new Mustang. 

Eddie always wished for the same thing.

For something to change. 

Figured something had to give. 

Now Eddie thinks about it, again, and maybe evrything has changed. Maybe everything is exactly what it looks like, and he’s here, in the centre of it. And there are parts, parts that are quite beautiful. 

He breathes in, opening his eyes and watching the eyelash flutter away on his breath. Eddie wishes to be able to see it.

-

‘Mind if I touch you?’ Steve asks from behind Eddie. ‘You almost have it.’ 

Eddie starts, muscles shaking a little. ’Sure, sure Stevie.’ He whispers. 

Steve’s warm finger press gently under Eddie’s arm so he lifts it slightly. Then on his shoulders so they dip minutely lower. Finally his palms wrap around Eddie’s waist, twisting him so he’s facing forward more fully. 

Eddie breaths out the air he’d been holding, long and slow, sinking into the pose. 

‘That’s it. Perfect.’ Steve soothes and moves on to the next person. 

Eddie falls asleep that night with the phantom press of palms on his waist. 

-

It’s raining again, but, no thunder. On a Tuesday, the session that Chrissy and Robin can’t make. The session that only Eddie attends in his now comfortable bi-weekly yoga routine. 

The night that it’s also routine for Steve to drive Eddie home. 

Tonight Steve wore a long sleeve and track pants to class. It’s not that unusual but, it’s warmer out now. So, a little unusual for Steve really, who’s usually sweaty during class even with ice clinging to the windows. 

He’s quiet too, doesn’t roll his eyes at Eddie playing one of the handful of tapes that he’d squirrelled into the car for these short rides. Doesn’t bat Eddie’s hand away from the temperature dials, telling Eddie to zip his coat up if he’s so frail. 

Tonight Steve is just quiet, moving the class into child’s pose three times. Leaving the ending meditation in silence. His breath wavering on the classes final group goodnight. 

‘…Steve? Are you okay?’ Eddie finally asks, the quiet too suffocating, the downward pinch of Steve’s mouth making Eddie’s heart feel heavy and rotted. 

‘Hm? Yeah, I’m just. Bad day, scars itch.’ And Steve smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks almost sadder. 

‘Can, uh. How did? I mean, you don’t. But.’ Eddie stammers, he’s never been much good at comforting but if Steve needs someone to listen, he can do that. Wants to. 

Steve sighs, pulling up next to the sidewalk, Eddie’s apartment just at the end of the street, cutting the ignition so it’s just the two of them, and the rain. 

‘They’re from a car accident. When I was 18. I, shouldn’t have been driving, it was so stupid. I wasn’t drunk or anything just, upset. Had a fight with my Dad, bad one. This other car was driving, pulling up along side me. It was this asshole from my high-school asking to race. I said yes like an idiot. But I was so, so angry. At everything. I thought, winning maybe, winning and wiping that smug fucking look from his face. Would like, help?’ 

Eddie doesn’t really know what to say, or do. Steve is picking at the skin on his knuckles, the joints going red and raw. So Eddie takes his hand, holding his finger between both of his own; smoothing his thumb over its ridges. 

Steve sniffs, corner of his mouth tucking up, bottom lip wobbling. ‘Anyway, we’re driving way too fucking fast and then there are these kids, suddenly, biking on the road. And, and this asshole, he speeds up. Planned on running straight into them, I could see it in his, cold fucking eyes. And I just, I swerved. Went right into him. Better me than those kids u know?’ Steve runs his free hand through his hair, laughing in a way though could just as easily be a sob. ‘He got off without much of a scratch, but uh, my door crumpled against a tree and like, fucked up my back a load, got these scars and aches and stuff now. Didn’t get charged with anything, luckily. Those kids actually vouched for me, babysat them here and there and, now we’re actually friends, as much as they annoy the shit outa me.’ And Steve’s cheeks are red, wetness glistening in his lash line, threatening to spill. He sniffs again, scoffing and turning his head away. 

Eddie pulls their joined hands into his lap, so Steve turns back towards him again. He’s hunched; looks young, and scared, and tired. 

‘But, yeah. I dunno why I told you all that honestly but. I guess. Anger only gets you so far, usually somewhere stupid. That’s my, uh, my pro tip I guess. Harder to forgive but way better for you.’ 

The silence stretches again, more comfortable this times. Eddie runs his thumb over the downy hairs on Steve fingers, over the scar by his thumb. Massages his palms, digging fingers into sinew. 

‘You know, I hated you that first session.’ Eddie says, tired of the ache that Steve’s tears are causing in his ribs. Tired of being angry, tired of being scared. 

‘Yeah.’ Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes, grin stretching slow and sweet. Like it’s a good memory, a memory to savour. 

‘Yeah. Too fucking handsome for his own good this guy. And charming, and rightfully cocky; you’re good at your job Stevie. Really good, and it pissed me the fuck off.’ Eddie says, his own smile stretching.

And Steve laughs, a honking snoring ugly little thing and it makes Eddie heart swell, his cheeks flush and his cheeks hurt from smiling so big. 

Steve is looking at him, tears gone. 

‘You wanna go get something to eat? The diner around the corner does really good cheeseburgers? My treat?’ 

‘Yeah Eddie, I’d, um, I’d really like that.’ Steve says.

-

‘We’re going to get coffee, don’t wait up.’ Chrissy shouts at them, linking arms with Robin and pulling her down the street. 

Robin sends Steve one wild grin, honking a delighted snort of laughter and following Chrissy. 

‘Well.’ Eddie says at Steve who’s grinning like a loon. 

‘Home?’ Steve asks, twirling his keys on his finger. 

Eddie nods and get in, so used to the smell and the feel of the car now. The way Steve drives with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping on the window ledge or fiddling with the temperature or gesticulating as he talks. Eddie comfortable in the passenger, curled up in his sweater and squeezing the mat between his knees. Some rides home he realises he didn’t even take a glance out of the window, eyes set on Steve the whole time. 

‘Hey, do you want to come up?’ Eddie ask. 

‘Come up and do what?’ And Steve’s smiling at him, cocky and confident and sweet and Steve. 

Eddie leans forward, kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth, which is a little stubbly from his moustache coming in. Where he smirks and licks his lips before a difficult pose. He’s Steve Harrington, and Eddie kissed him. 

-

‘Hey Wayne.’ Eddie smiles, squeezing the receiver. 

‘Hey kid, you all packed.’ Wayne sounds tired but relaxed and Eddie nudges the box by his foot, full of merch ready to load in the van come morning. 

‘Yeah, just a few more bits, Steve just left so, got distracted.. you remember Steve, he my, the uh, the yoga instructor?’ Eddie asks, cheeks flushing. 

 ‘Mmm I ‘member Steve. You sweet on him boy?’ 

‘Yes Wayne, he is!’ Chrissy shouts as she walks past. 

Eddie jumps and almost hisses at her like a cat. She, where did she even come from?

Wayne’s smoky laughter draws Eddie back to the phone. ‘I. God Wayne are you 12?’ But that just makes him laugh more. 

‘I’m going okay? Love you old man, I’ll call when I can.’ 

‘Love ya too ed, be safe. I’ll come visit once you’re back. Wanna meet this Steve everyone keeps going on about.’ 

Eddie huffs but he can’t help smiling, imagining Steve and Wayne together. 

‘You deserve someone good Ed, ye understand?’ 

Eddie blinks, blinks back tears. The things he has around him now, the people, the tools, his music. What he’s been given. What he always wished for. 

‘Yeah, yeah Wayne, I think I do.’ 

₊✩‧₊

Tag list: @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

@marvel-ous-m @tangerinesteve

title form 'Today' but The Smashing Pumpkins

[hayleythesugarbowl]

i don’t think ur req are open but i’ve been dying thinking about this idea 😭 an angela x fem reader fic where they meet at the gym or are gym buddies!!! suuuuper fluffy bc angela is the best ever

Same Time Tomorrow || Angela Giarratana x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist  ⋆˚｡⋆୨୧⋆

summary: you’ve been going to the same gym for a while now, crushing on the same girl who’s always there but never actually talking to her. that is, until the letters start appearing in your locker

word count: 2k

warnings: none

a/n: ahh it’s been a minute since i’ve written for angela, i love her so much. i kinda put a little twist on this and i hope you enjoy this!! also fem!reader!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     You saw her immediately after you walked in. 

     Gym girl, you’d started calling her. You’d seen her the past seven times you’d been to this gym. Sometimes she was already working out when you arrived, sometimes she she got there just as you were heading home.

     You’d said nothing more to each other than the occasional ‘what’s up’ or ‘hey can I use those 20s when you’re done with them?’ or ‘mornings am i right’

     But you’d remembered every interaction you’d had with her.

     She had short, brown hair and always wore the same baseball cap and white tank top almost every time you’d seen her.

     Now though, as you watched her on the elliptical, you saw that she wore a light blue zip-up hoodie overtop it. 

     You stepped up onto the treadmill, your back facing her as you began your workout.

     You’d started to come to the gym at the same time every day, knowing you’d see the woman if you did.

     Okay, now that you said all of this to yourself in your head, it sounded mildly stalker-ish.

     But you couldn’t help it, she was so gorgeous that you were drawn to her. 

     Every time you came here, you tried to think of something interesting to say to her. Something to start a conversation, more than just a couple words.

     But what would you even say? 

     Hey, I think you’re really cute and I’ve been watching you work out for weeks, wanna go out sometime? 

     Gym girl suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision, getting on the treadmill next to you. 

     You turned to her, seeing she was already looking at you, and shot her a quick smile.

     “So, you come here often?” She said, beginning to pick up the pace, now moving at a swift jog. 

     “Well, um,” you started, caught off guard. “I guess? I mean, I try to hit the gym every day if I can.”

     “That was supposed to be a joke,” she grinned. “Y’know, cause we’re always here at the same time. Not my best material, I’ll admit.”

     “No, it was good,” you chucked, giving her a reassuring smile. “Treadmill brain.”

     “Real,” she agreed, before turning back to her machine. 

     You smoothed down you hair, suddenly aware of the hasty ponytail you had thrown your hair up in before you had left.

     You bumped up the speed to 10mph, running faster now.

     “So? You always go this fast?” The woman asked you, looking over at the screen on your treadmill.

      “Oh, yeah,” you got out, lying through your teeth as you fought for breath. “I love running.”

      “Well, props to you, cause I max out at 4,” she breathed. 

     “Well in that case,” you slowed down the speed of the treadmill. “So do I.”

     You both burst out laughing. 

     You couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your face. This was the longest conversation you’d had with gym girl. It only took a week, but you were finally having a conversation with her. 

     And she was funny and charming and kind.

     “What?” She looked at you quizzically.

     “Nothing,” you covered. “It’s just, I always feel so much better when I’m at the gym. It’s relaxing.”

     “I feel ya, sister,” Angela nodded her head. “It’s nice to get away from work and just focus.”

      You braved asking her an actual question. “So, what do you do for work?”

      “I’m in digital media,” she answered. “Entertainment. What about you?”

      You told her what you did while you both ran, your legs in sync. She took off her sweater, throwing it to the side and revealing the white shirt she always wore.

      You went on like this for many minutes, working out in silence, in each other’s company. 

     There were may other people in the gym, but you hardly noticed them. You were only focused on yourself and the woman next to you. 

     Finally, after an hour or so had passed, the woman stopped running and stepped off the treadmill, grabbing her sweatshirt and throwing it over her shoulder.

     She ran a hand through her hair, looking towards you. “Well, I think I’m going to head out. I’ll see you later.”

     “See ya,” you called to her as she walked away.

     You realized you had never caught her name.

     Your head was filled with thoughts of gym girl as you made your way to the locker room sometime later. You couldn’t wait to see her again. Not only because you thought she was the most attractive person you had ever seen, but also because you had enjoyed talking to her and you wanted to do it again. 

     You made your way to your own locker, passing the one you knew was her’s and opening the door. 

     As you did, a small slip of paper fell out. You picked it up off the floor. 

     Roses are red, violets are blue, I had an amazing time working out with you.  —A

     Your heart beat faster. Whoever had written this must’ve slipped it in one of the holes at the top of your locker.

     You immediately thought of gym girl. Could it have been from her? You dared to hope, even though you tried to tell yourself there was no way it was from her.

     Then again, you didn’t know her name. It could’ve started with an ‘A’. 

     You stood there for a moment, contemplating this, before you finished gathering your things and headed out of the building.

     You couldn’t wait for tomorrow. You couldn’t wait to see her again.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     Tomorrow ended up being kind of a bust. 

     The woman was there, but other than a quick ‘hey’ and an expectant look at you which you couldn’t decipher, she kept to herself and you didn’t cross paths. 

     You had looked forward to talking with her again. And also finding out if she was the one who’d left the note in your gym locker. 

      But, when she didn’t approach you, you gave up and left to go get changed. 

     You opened your locker to another note, this time catching it before it hit the ground.

     Daisies are yellow, tulips are pink, you looked even cuter today than yesterday, i think. —A

      You smiled at the rhyme. It was corny, but you got the feeling the author knew that, and that just made it even better. You thought it was sweet, that someone would go out of their way to do this for you.

     And you couldn’t pretend you didn’t desperately hope that that someone was gym girl. 

    That was pretty much the thought that occupied your mind all week, 24/7, as you kept receiving the notes. You had collected six more of them, all rhyming, and had still yet to discover who actually was giving them to you. 

     After that one conversion you’d had with gym girl, you’d yet to talk again. You had tried to make yourself go talk to her multiple times, but she always looked busy or uninterested and you always got in your own head about it.

     What if she wasn’t the one writing you the notes? Just because it made sense, didn’t mean it was the case.

     It didn’t look like you were going to get an answer to that question anytime soon. 

     Until finally, one Friday, as you went to put your stuff in your locker before you started your workout, you saw her.

     Gym girl. She was walking towards her locker, looking like she was in a rush.

     You quickly stepped behind a pillar, safely out of sight. 

     You watched her set her own stuff down, before hurrying over to your locker. You held your breath. You watched as she pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket, and slipped it into your locker.

     Your heart soared. So it was her! You were beginning to worry that it was just some gym creep! 

     She began to walk in your direction, and you hurried into a bathroom stall a few feet away, letting her pass.

     Once you were sure she had exited the locker room, you left your hiding spot. 

     You set your stuff in your own locker, stopping to read her note.

     Lemons are sour, so is the lime, I’d really like to go out with you sometime. —A

      You held the scrap of paper to your chest. Now that you knew for sure that it was her who was writing these, you let yourself get all giddy.

      She wanted to go out with you! She thought you were cute! 

     You walked towards the exit door, feeling more confident and sure than you had before. You were going to walk up to gym girl and talk to her. Maybe even ask her out.

     You were about to walk out the door when you realized you were will wearing the pajama pants you had worn there. 

     Right after you changed! 

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     You spotted her instantly amongst the dozens of other people working out. She seemed to stand out, but maybe that was just because you were looking. 

     “Hey,” you approached her, sitting down on the weight bench next to hers.

     “Sup,” She looked up at you, a question in her eyes. She had a light sheen of sweat on her bare arms and you had the sudden urge to rub your hands all over her.

      Focus! You told yourself.

     “Hey, can you help me with something?” You asked her, your heart racing.

     “Need me to spot you?” She asked.

     “No, not exactly,” you answered.

     “Good, cause I don’t know what that means,” she shrugged. “What do you need?”

     “Well,” you started. “There’s this song that’s stuck in my head—and has been for days—but I can’t figure out what it is. I was wondering if you might know.”

     “Shoot. I’m a walking Shazam,” the woman rested her chin in her hand. 

     “It goes a little something like this,” you said, pretending to think. ��Roses are red. Violets are blue…”

     You watched as her eyes widened, searching yours for a sign.

     “…and then something about working out and a cute lemon?” You finished.

     “I don’t know if I know that one,” Angela breathed. 

     You shrugged. “Probably just some cheesy rhyme I heard somewhere,”

     “Hey!” She smiled. “I put—I mean, whoever wrote that, probably put a lot of time and thought into it.”

      You giggled. “Shakespeare would be proud.”

     “How long did you know it was me?” She asked you. 

     “Not until today,” you answered honestly. “But I’d kinda hoped.”

     Her eyes snapped up to yours. 

     “But then I thought, there’s no way the girl I’ve been too scared to talk to cause she’s so cute, is the same one who’s been writing me love poems,” you finished.  

     The girl smiled, “I kinda figured I was being really obvious. When you never said anything, I thought maybe you thought they were lame—I mean, you were so cool and pretty and can run a lot faster than me.”

     You shook your head. How could this woman, who was so gorgeous and charming and perfect, have been worried that you wouldn’t like her? 

     “I can’t run that fast,” you teased her. “I was just trying to impress you, remember?”

     “Oh yeah? Well, maybe we could go running together sometime and you can prove it to me.”

     She paused.

     “And by running, I mean like a coffee shop or something.”

     You booth laughed and you nodded. “I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

     “It’s a date then,” she said, standing up and letting your shoulders brush as she walked past you. 

     You couldn’t believe it. Gym girl thought you were pretty. You were going on a date with her. Which reminded you…

     “I never did catch your name,” you called to her, as she began walking away.

     She turned around. “Angela. It’s Angela.”

     A.

     “I’m (Y/n).”

     “Well (Y/n), I’ll see you around,” she said, winking at you as she walked backwards.

     “Same time tomorrow?” You called.

     She grinned. “Same time tomorrow.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope you enjoyed this lovelies!! have the best of days 💘

[itisnotdefended]

run my hands through my hair pull it out and breathe in deeply. rub my eyes, ignore the makeup poke your eyes out try to see past the dizzy colors and observe the world around me. it's time to write, my dear. time to put that pen in my hand stab yourself with it and scribble away my worries. sip my coffee in the cafe before i drive on home. 10mph over on the highway drive off the overpass so i can get back quicker to safety and warmth and walls to bang your head against all of my lovely things. i didn't do much today, but it sure would be nice to rest from all my wicked daydreams.

[yachtlily]

Weekend away - Day 2

Sunday, 15th September 2024

Wind SW 10mph                        Cloudy bright                                            Temp 20°C

Total distance sailed 13.75 miles

The temperature fell away under clear skies during the night. Despite that we were both cosy and snug in our bunks, aided by blankets and hot water bottles. I awoke around 0700 but decided I would not stir from my bunk until 0730 to make the early morning tea and coffee. We then lay in our bunks drinking that and listening to the 0800 BBC news and newspapers. We then got up and breakfasted. The cover had become quite damp in the night. My side, facing the early morning sun, had speedily dried but Mrs Crew’s side, still in the shade, was still very wet. Using another mud weight from the stern I brought the boat around broadside to the breeze and to allow sun to reach the wet area. The cover then dried quite speedily. We took it off, stowed it, lowered the roof and boom.

It was a lovely morning for a sail but we needed water so we motored over to the water point at Barton Turf and filled our tank. Then we departed the staithe, raising sail as we approached the Broad. We had a good breeze and spent a very happy hour sailing around the Broad. There were a few motor boats in the channel but only a couple of other yachts sailing so we had the Broad pretty much to ourselves. After an hour of play we dropped sail and motored down the Ant, dropping our mast shortly before the bridge. Once through I went forward to raise the mast, only to find the boom and gaff crash off their crutches. One of the shrouds had caught beneath them both when we lowered the mast and raising it like that had caused the problem. Once we realised what was wrong we quickly solved the problem and raised the mast. Joining the Bure we came alongside at St B’s where friends, Chris & Rachel, had reserved a  mooring for us. We all four lunched aboard Lily.

After lunch, slipped our mooring and raised sail for the passage home. The wind had dropped off a lot but we still made good progress with the tide under us. Reaching the mouth we dropped sail and came alongside in our berth. This was not as easy as it sounds as the depth of water was limited and we needed a lot of engine power to drive the boat through the mud. With rain forecast we quickly tidied away and got her cover on. I wonder whether that might be our last night afloat this year?

[viewstitch]

It’s Day 247 of the Windy Wessagusset Wimple of 2024. The wind was out of the NNW at 6mph with gusts at 10mph at 12pm. The temperature was 68°, and felt like it was 62°. I used the Medium Purple color of Red Heart Super Saver yarn to show the wind was out of the NNW. I worked my knitting in garter stitch since the wind was blowing at 6mph. It was a lovely day in Wessagusset, though with the wind it was cool. I wore long sleeves, and long pants with socks, and I sprayed my hat with Off, and it did keep the mosquitoes away. It was windy out, so that made have had some benefit, too. It was a quiet day to take it easy, and relax. I must say that today I enjoyed my retirement. I don’t really miss teaching that much any more, but I do miss the children who always kept me in stitches, and happy. Be safe out there.

.

#WindyWessagussetWimlple2024 #Day247 #12pm #NNW #wind6mph #gusts10mph #mediumpurple #garterstitch #stitches #yarn #patterns #needles #skeins #redheartyarn #supersaver #worstedweight #knittingisbest #knittingingpublicdaily #tumblrknitter #knittumblr #knittersoftumblr #tumblr #WindyWessagussetWimple2024 #9/3/24 #Day247 #tumblr

[nahgul]

ChesNUT

[meteorito618]

oh OH

He just found out how it’s done

[vaguelylikeabutt]

10 minute power hour patreon extras - s3e4 - “history of the challenge”

-

“do you want me to rub mayonnaise on you?”

[tao-lay]

i said it once, i will say it again: DO IT YOU COWARDS

[aringance]

wholesome

[faebirdie]

Bionic Exile: Chapter 8

Series Masterlist / Personal Masterlist

Summary: Takeshi makes a choice he can’t come back from. You and Rick finally get some time to yourselves.

Coauthor: @lacontroller1991​

Warnings: lots of angst, lots of smut, language, insecurities all around, small mention of self hate

Word Count: 4,719

The portal comes to life with a deafening roar. 10mph winds blow random documents and files around but do little to distract you from the swirling hues of blues and purples that make up the entrance to this other world you’ve only heard stories of. You can’t help but wonder about what could await you on the other side, even though you know that it isn’t for you to find out. It’s for Takeshi. 

Takeshi, who you’ve been avoiding for days since you’d drunkenly begged him to stay in this world with you. Since he’d ignored your pleading and left you with little hope of a future for your relationship with him. 

And now after burying yourself in the details of what it would take to send the man you had fallen for home, in the exact circumstances and codes needed to direct the portal, it was all set to go. The only thing left to do was say goodbye and pray everything worked as designed to get him back safely. You hate yourself for it. 

As wrong as it is, part of you wishes you had pushed this off somehow. You could have ‘accidently’ broken a piece of the machine’s directory or just have taken a few sick days. But it was too late for all of that now. Everything is ready to go and there is no longer anything you can do to stop the inevitable. 

Maybe that’s why all you do is stare into the kaleidoscope like entrance to his world. To where he belongs. 

Where you can’t follow. Staring mindlessly at the portal, you ignore the sound of the door opening until you feel a presence move to stand beside you. “Is it ready?” Waller’s terse voice asks. You swallow a lump in your throat and barely manage a  nod.

“Yes, we just need him now,” Waller nods, neither of you looking at each other, instead both of your attention moves to the door as Rick walks in with Tak. It strikes you as odd, for just a moment, seeing the two of them walk in together like this. Shoulder to shoulder, both heads up. They almost resemble a team.

“Mr. Kovacs, thank you for your patience. We understand how hard it must have been for you,” Waller’s words sound sincere but everyone in the room knows she doesn’t mean a damn word, rather, they all knew Waller wouldn’t give two shits about what happens to Tak in the next couple of minutes, “the portal is set. I wish you a bon voyage,” Waller’s voice drips with sarcasm and it’s noted by Tak who represses a scowl. Pulling out his packet of cigarettes, Tak lights one and presses it to his lips, taking a deep inhale before blowing the smoke into Waller’s face.

“I’m not going back.” 

“Excuse me?” Although her reply is monotonous, anyone could see the blind rage in Waller’s eyes. Not you though. Your entire focus has turned to the two men standing across from you.  Your eyes flit over to Rick for assurance, who simply nods in reply. The smile that breaks across your face is almost painful. Without so much as a second thought, you jump in Tak’s arms, your limbs wrapping around his body as he holds you up with ease, dropping the cigarette and stomping on it.

“I knew you’d stay,” you whisper loud enough for just him to hear as you ignore the looks you get from everyone.

“Mr. Kovacs, that is not your decision to make.” Jumping down from his arms, you move to Rick, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it in thanks. He had something to do with this. It was the only thing that made sense. Then you turn back towards Waller, stood between the two men you loved, ready to do anything to keep them by your side.

“Actually it is. I’m staying,” he replies, stepping closer to Waller and with his tall frame, he easily towers over her, “end of discussion.” Tak and Waller stare at each other, seeing who would back down first as everyone else in the room just stands and watches, allowing the tension to roll over them. Rick slightly pushes you to stand behind him in case something happens, his other hand instinctively going for his gun in response to the hostility crackling in the air.

“Okay,” Waller backs down, though the strain in her voice is noticeable, causing everyone to remain on edge as she turns around. “Shut it down people,” her voice commands and everyone rushes to shut the machine down. Turning back to Tak, she glares at him, “you don’t know who you’re messing with.”

“No,” Tak shakes his head with an icy chuckle, “you,” he points his finger at Waller, “don’t know who you’re messing with.” Huffing, she walks off as the rest of the crew slowly dissipates, eventually leaving you, Tak, and Rick alone in the room. Letting go of Rick’s hand, you quickly move over to Tak and pull him down for a hug. 

“Tak, you do realize there’s no way you’ll ever get back now. Right?” You ask, stepping back to be able to look him in the eyes. Takeshi thinks for a moment before nodding his head, his arms still resting around your waist.

“I know. But you’re worth it,” he whispers as you freeze, suddenly remembering Rick was right behind you.

“Even though you know Rick and I….” he shakes his head in dismissal before looking over at Rick.

“We actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

—-------

“You guys want to… share me?” You ask slowly, tasting the sound of it on your tongue, staring at the two men that stand in front of you. Rick looks over to Tak for a brief second before Tak responds. It feels as though the whole room is holding in a breath.

“Yes. He wants you. I want you. You want both of us. Instead of having you choose, you could have both.”

“What do you think of this Rick?” Your voice is full of care, as  Rick’s eyes shift to you, deep in thought.

“I guess we can try it out. I still want at least some aspect of privacy,” he comments as Tak shrugs, silently agreeing to his request, “But what really matters to me is you being happy and getting to be with you. I think this is the best way for this to work.”

“How would we handle… affection?” Although it was still too early in your and Rick’s relationship, you and Tak have been intimate for weeks now. The question had to be asked, even if it did bring a warmth to your face. Tak takes a deep breath in while tilting his head to the side.

“Nothing has to be set in stone right now. There’s two ways we could do it, one on one, or just at the same time,” Tak’s suggestions have Rick quickly scolding him over his flippant handling of such an intimate discussion. But you couldn’t help the butterflies that flutter in your stomach at the imagine of both of them taking you at the same time. I wonder if they’re the same all over, you think to yourself as your eyes flick down across both of them slyly, I mean they seem the same. 

“Y/N, our eyes are up here,” Rick’s southern drawl is laced with amusement as the two men catch you staring at their groins. Your head snaps up in embarrassment. 

“So sorry,” you mutter as Rick’s face continues to bloom red while Tak simply smirks. 

“I mean you already know what mine looks like, you just need to see his,” Takeshi muses as your eyes widen, Rick glaring daggers at Tak who only continues to snicker, “Though on that note, I was thinking I’d head out for the night. Find a bar. You two can finally have some time to yourselves and start to settle into this idea.”

“Are you sure, Kesh? You don’t exactly know your way around here well,” You’re incredibly thankful for his offer, already feeling better about the prospect of being with both of them, but you can’t help but worry about Takeshi out on his own in a world he’s still getting to know. 

“I think I can handle myself for one night, sweetheart. Hell, maybe I’ll invite Harley to drink with me. She seems like a fun time if how wasted you are after a night with her is anything to go off of,” he teases. 

“No!” You exclaim.

“I’m not sure you and Harley at a bar together is such a great idea, man.” Rick seconds. 

A look of genuine offense overtakes Takeshi’s face, “What? You think I’d actually try something with her? Right after a conversation like this? Me deciding to stay wasn’t enough for you?”

Your heart breaks at the just the slightest look of Tak’s insecurities showing through. His fears of being thought of as unworthy by those he cares for had been well hidden, but you’d still picked up on them in the past. And now they were making themselves known. 

“Oh, Tak, baby. No! I trust you. 100%. That’s not what this is about at all. I even trust Harley to know you’re off limits now. It’s just…” you trail off, picking at the wording, “Well, Harley’s a bit much. To put it lightly. And you’re still getting used to your new surroundings. I just don’t want her getting you into trouble. That’s all. I promise.” You reach out to take Takeshi’s hand in yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles gently.

“She’ll eat you alive.” Rick’s eyes are practically glazed over with memories of missions gone sideways and after mission celebrations falling into chaos at the hands of the Squad’s resident mad woman.

The tension in Tak’s shoulders drops a bit at the clarification from you and Rick. A new look comes over his eyes that you can’t fully place though, even as a slight grin pulls at the corners of his lips. “Got it. No Quinn, then. Just a few drinks at the place on the corner. I’ll finally figure out these ‘sports’ of yours that are always playing.”

Before you can respond, he’s leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. When he steps back he and Rick just stare at each other for a moment, still unsure how to navigate their relationship. Takeshi settles on leaving Rick with a slight nod before he heads towards the door. As he opens it though he can’t help but get one last quip in, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, Flag.”

Rick’s eyes roll as the door slams shut behind the envoy. You chuckle at the childish behavior of the two men. Though, as the realization that the two of you are truly on your own hits you an awkward silence settles over the room. 

“So.”

“So…”

“I’d really like to make you dinner,” Rick finally breaks the silence.

—---------

After settling you at the kitchen counter with a glass of white wine, Rick had made quick work of scouring through the fridge to find ingredients for a proper dinner. He’d pulled out a few slices of chicken thigh, some lemons, and a box of pasta as well as a few other miscellaneous items. You’d offered to help him cook, but he’d refused your offer hastily. All there was for you to do was sit back and relax according to him. Which you were perfectly happy with. Especially since it meant watching as one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen made his way almost seamlessly around the kitchen in an apron you’d bought him for his last birthday. You can still remember how much he’d blushed when he’d first seen it. ‘Mr. Good Looking Is Cooking’ it proudly read. Now that you think about it, this is the first time he’s worn it since Tak had moved in. 

“So, whatcha making me, Ricky?” you ask, a teasing lilt to your tone.

“Lemon alfredo with pan seared chicken. Simple and romantic. And almost impossible to screw up,” he turns back to look at you over his shoulder from where he’s stood at the stove, stirring the sauce. The grin plastered on his face might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

“I really might be the luckiest girl on the planet. Able to cook and hot! How’d I get so lucky?”

“Trust me, darlin’. I’m the lucky one. And dinner’s ready.” 

—---

Rick can barely make it through dinner with the way you keep brushing your foot up and down his leg under the table. Based on the slight smirk you wear, you know exactly what you’re doing. 

“This is absolutely delicious, honey,” You say simply, as if your leg hasn’t made its way over his to rest between his limbs, just barely grazing his crotch. You just barely hide your devilish grin behind a swig of wine. 

Rick can’t wrap his head around how the meal had gone from easy conversation about what you might do over the weekend to this heated flirting. He’s sure as hell not complaining though. How could he? He loves the mischief in your eyes. So, he reaches forward and removes the wine glass from your hand and leans himself into you, placing a soft kiss just under your ear, “How about we go to your bedroom?” He whispers against the shell of your ear, sending tingles down your spine. Turning your head, you wordlessly nod as you get up from your seat, Rick taking your hand and noticing the fact that you seemed slightly hesitant.

“Don’t get shy now on me, darlin,” he teases, switching a flip in your mind. Smirking, your hand moves on its own accord, brushing against his very prominent bulge.

“Colonel Flag. Me? Shy?” You gently punch him in offense, “Never.”

“Good, you better not be. Cause I have plans for you,” he replies before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, playfully smacking your ass as you squeal in delight, your mind racing. Kicking in your door, Rick expertly maneuvers to your bed and tosses you down, immediately crawling on top and claiming your lips with his. Pushing you back, Rick stares into your eyes before you lean up, kissing him softly and tangling your hands in his hair, deepening the kiss with a flick of your tongue against his bottom lip. Rolling your hips upward, you smile into the kiss when Rick groans at the friction, his member pressing painfully in his jeans.

“As much as I’d like to take our sweet time, I want you now,” Rick utters, breaking apart and throwing his shirt over his head and out of the way, yours following immediately after.

“It’s okay, I’m ready for you,” you smile softly, Rick copying your expression with one of his own as he nods, sitting up and fumbling with his belt buckle. Chuckling, your hands work to undo the buckle and Rick gives you a kiss in thanks. As the two of you continue to undress, huffs echo the room while the two of you laugh at each other, both of you looking ridiculous trying to get out of your clothing at warp speed.

“Why are they so hard to take off when you’re in a rush,” Rick huffs as he manages to get his leg free from the jeans, your hands failing to reach the back of your bra from your position still half under him.

“Uh, Rick, a little help?” You motion to the clasp at the back. Nodding, Rick moves behind you, softly kissing your shoulder blade as his deft fingers free your breasts from their cage. 

“Can I touch you?” He asks as you turn your head back, meeting his lips.

“Yes. Please,” his hands reach around and take a breast in each, fingers trailing around your nipples as his lips attach themselves to your neck, teeth lightly nibbling at the flesh underneath your ear causing you to release a whimper. Backing into him, your ass presses against his member, sending chills down his spine.

“Ricky,” you moan his name and he swears he could die a happy man now. Moving one hand down, he slips underneath the waistband of your panties and rubs your folds, groaning at the feeling of your wetness against the tips of his fingers. Pulling his hand out, he lightly pushes you forward so that you are flat against the bed. 

“Is this okay, sweetheart?” He palms your ass, fingers slightly digging into the soft skin as if he’s trying to ground himself. To let himself know that you were really there and not just some figment of his imagination.

“God Rick, please. I need you,” you wiggle your hips against his as he lets out a laugh, slipping out of his boxers as you push your panties down. When he returns his attention back to you, he has to take a moment to collect himself. She’s even prettier than I’ve imagined, Rick thinks as his cock throbs, his eyes focusing on your slick cunt that invites him. Grabbing a hold of his member, he mindlessly pumps his precum over his length, taking a deep breath in.

“Last chance to back out baby,” and even though he offers you the chance, he really hopes that you don’t take it.

“Too late for that, fuck me,” you look back at him as he gives a mock solute, causing you to laugh. Guiding his tip to your entrance, he runs it quickly over your arousal before pushing in slightly and pausing, waiting for your approval. “Please,” you beg, burying your head against your arms as he fully sheaths himself in your tight cunt, releasing a loud groan.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart.”

“Are you good Rick?” He nods his head though you don’t see.

“Yeah, it’s just you feel so much better than I’ve ever imagined. And I’ve imagined it. A lot,” his admission has you looking back in shock.

“Why have you never said anything,” for just a moment, both of you forgot what you were doing until Rick’s hands found a place on your hips, his cock twitching in your heat.

“Afraid to,” he shrugs his shoulders and pulls out lightly before pushing back in, more curses tumbling from his swollen lips, “but God. I wanted this for so long,” he briefly comments before starting a quick pace, his hips snapping against yours.

It doesn’t take long for him to feel the familiar tension in his abdomen. Shit no, no, no, he thinks, his eyes wide in panic as he feels his orgasm approaching him, but with the moans falling from your pretty lips and the sound of his balls slapping against your sex, it becomes too much for Rick too fast and he cums. Hard. Biting down on his lip to prevent the moan that threatens to slip, his eyes roll back into his head as his grip on your hips tighten, his cock shooting his seed deep inside of you and you notice. Deciding to not mention it, you rock your hips back against his, coaxing him through his orgasm, and even though stuff happens, you can’t help but to feel a teeny bit disappointed. Coming down from his high, Rick freezes as realization dawns on him. Did she notice? She’s still going, should I act like nothing happened? But the softening of his shaft has him squirming from the oversensitivity and he has to pull out, doubt swimming to the surface of his mind.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry sweetheart. I did not mean to do that,” Rick quickly covers himself as he looks around your room, and though he’s seen it hundreds of times, it sure looks brand new to him at that moment. You reposition yourself so you’re sitting down next to him, his spend falling onto your sheets but you don’t care. 

“Hey, it’s okay. It happens,” you rub his arm in comfort as he shakes his head in denial.

“I’ve never had that problem. I am so sorry,” he whispers, turning his head as far away from you as possible to hide his hazel orbs rimming with tears of embarrassment, a sneering voice popping into his head. I bet Kovacs never came that quickly. Bet he could get her to orgasm. Hell, you know he can. You’ve heard them. “Fuck!” He shouts into the room and you jump back, not sure what to do in this situation. Rick sighs before moving off of the bed, “I should probably go,” he whispers to himself, standing up with his hands still covering his member, your eyes laced with concern. 

“Rick, you should stay. Please stay.”

“Not a chance,” he chuckles dryly, still not bothering to look at you. 

“Rick.”

“Nah, I’m just gonna leave for the night. Never come back,” his hand reaches for the handle before you decide to intervene. 

“Richard Montgomery Flag. Come back here this instant,” you command and he turns back around to look at you, a tear having slipped down his face, cheeks still red.

“For what? So I can embarrass myself again? I talk up a big game and then I go and do,” he motions to the wet spot on the spread, “that.” He pouts as you walk over to him and grab his chin, forcing him to look at you.

“It happens. Instead of running away, why not make up for it?” You suggest and for a second Rick questions if you can possibly be serious.

“You’re just making fun of me.”

“No, I am not. Come back to bed. Please?” You pull his arm and he reluctantly agrees. Sitting back on the bed, Rick looks up to you as you straddle his lap, your hands skimming over his chest, avoiding the scar as you stare into his hazel eyes. Noticing he wasn’t all there, it didn’t take you long to suspect what he may be thinking.

“Don’t you compare yourself to him,” Rick’s attention returns as he looks back into your eyes, “I know you. I know what you’re doing Flag. You better cut that shit out or this is done.”

“He could at least make you cum,” he replies but you shut him up with your lips on his. Swiping your tongue against his lower lip, he grants you permission as he opens up, your tongue searching his like the first time. Moaning into the kiss, you slightly rock your hips up and down against his abdomen, the trail of his hair catching your clit and creating friction that has your arousal reawakening. 

“You’ve made me cum so many times, Rick. Every time I’ve touched myself, I would think of you and I would cum around my fingers wishing they were yours. So many times at work I would have to slip into the bathroom just to touch myself because you would make me so wound up. So many times I’ve cum screaming your name into my pillow so you wouldn’t hear,” you confess, your nails scratching his scalp as your hips continue to rock against his abdomen, Rick’s cock beginning to grow again. Reaching behind you, you take his shaft in your hand and pump him, watching the way Rick’s head falls back against the pillow. “You make me insane, and now I’ve got you. And might I say, you fill me up so good. You’re so big and you feel so perfect inside of me,” you wiggle down slightly so that the tip of his cock was right under you. Removing your hand, you straddle his hardening member and grind against the length, your hooded clit catching the underside of his shaft causing you to moan. “Don’t get me started on your voice. Whenever you call me ‘darlin’ or ‘sweetheart’ you make me wanna climb you right then and there. Every. Fucking. Time,” Rick’s hands find their way back to your hips and guide you back and forth on his now fully erect shaft. Looking down at where your bodies connect, Rick gulps when he sees your folds sliding over his cock, veins disappearing and reappearing with each movement. “Rick,” you call out to him, his eyes snapping back up to your face. Grabbing his hands from your hips, you place them on your breasts and squeeze around his large hands, causing his fingers to dig into the supple flesh, “Make love to me.” Rick’s eyes soften as he flips you over, you now on your back with Rick hovering over you.

“I am so in love with you,” he whispers, amazed, pushing into your heat and you groan in unison.

“I’m in love with you too,” you reply, pulling him down for a kiss as his hips slowly thrust in and out of you, taking his time. 

Breaking away, Rick rests his forehead against yours, your hands fiddling with his hair, “You feel so good baby. So fucking good.” Rick grunts and buries his head into your neck, placing soft kisses as you sigh against the shell of his ear, relishing in the feeling of him deep in you. Circling your hips upward, you feel your clit rub against his pelvic bone. Wrapping your legs around his waist digs him deeper into you, the tip of his cock lightly grazing the spot that has you seeing stars. 

“Oh God, Rick. Right there,” you moan out, your nails digging into his scalp as whines echo into his ear. 

“I got you sweetheart,” he picks up the pace, snapping his hips into you with sharp thrusts, drilling into your tight cunt, ignoring his own need.

“Ricky, you feel so fucking good. Just like that baby,” you encourage the colonel above you, the coil in your abdomen tightening more by the minute. Removing one hand from his hair, you slip in between your bodies, rubbing your clit as he pounds into you, “I need to cum. I need to cum so bad. Rick please.”

“I’m there with you too baby girl,” he moans out, working his very best to get you to your orgasm. He moves to balance himself on one elbow, forcing his other arm in between your bodies so that he can take over rubbing circles around your clit. The coil inside of you snaps, your release washing over you in waves as you let out a silent moan, breath stolen from you, your eyes screwed shut as your walls clamp down on his dick. 

“Good girl. Such a good girl for me,” he soothes, kissing over your face as he continues to thrust into you, coaxing you through your orgasm. Once you recover enough, Rick focuses on his own pleasure once more and it doesn’t take much longer until he feels like he’s going to cum as well. “I need to cum,” he declares and you grab a hold of his face, giving him a bruising kiss.

“Cum in me baby. I wanna see your face when you cum in me,” Rick shutters as he juts his hips against yours as far as he could, his load shooting deep and far inside of you as he cums with a low grunt, his eyes remaining with yours as your hand smooths down his hair damp with sweat, your hips rolling against his as his thrusts become languid and stop all together. Pulling out of you, Rick collapses next to you, both of you trying to catch your breath. 

“Rick.”

“Hmm.”

“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“You’re just saying that,” he states in denial but you curling up to his body has him questioning his rational.

“No, I’m not. I’ve waited so long for that. And even though it may not have started the way either of us wanted it to, it was so much better than anything I could have ever imagined. I swear to you.” You kiss his shoulder and bury yourself under the cover of his arm, his seed spilling out of you, but you don’t mind, “I love you, Ricky.” Rick turns his head slightly and kisses your forehead before shutting his eyes.

“I love you too.” For the first time in a while, Rick slept like a baby.

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[ransprang]

Fandom: Naruto + Gender preference: Male

Gender pronouns: She/They

Personality Traits:

1) My mind and thoughts run at 10 miles per minute.

2) I don't give yes or no answers, it always "depends". Yes, a very INTP thing to do.

3) I get bored very very easily. It's hard to keep me entertained.

Physical Traits:

1) Very short black hair

2) Long eyelashes

3) Very prominent collar bones

Favourite relationship trope: Best friends to lovers.

Ideal date setting: Spending time with cats in an animal shelter or Star gazing and long drives

Love language: Acts of service, Being fiercely supportive and protective. (Not to be confused with overprotectiveness or possessiveness)

Thank you for this and congratulations for 600 followers, your account is growing so fast :)

thank you <33 hope you have a good valentines day

Valentine’s Cat Shelter Date with Shino

600 followers event

It was a few days before Valentine’s day and Shino had no idea what that meant since he was from a ninja village based loosely on medieval Japan. Naturally, you tried to educate Shino and the rest of your weird ninja friends however when one of them asked, “So is Valentine’s day celebrated with friends or someone you love?” You replied, “It depends.” You did not realize your mistake until the day itself came. 

You woke up on Valentine’s day to Shino at your doorstep with a box of chocolates and flowers. He handed them to you wordlessly, and you nodded. Shino wasn’t much of a talker so you just stared at the items in your hand trying to decode their meaning. Shino however, continued to stand their, his face impassive and his eyes indecipherable on account of the sunglasses. His aura felt expectant so you put everything away and fetched your jacket. 

Shino nodded approvingly and took you to Konoha’s cat shelter. He knew your interests since y’all had been friends for a while. When a particularly wild cat tried to claw at you, Shino immediately grabbed it’s hand while a small bug crawled from under his sleeve and bit the cat. The cat promptly passed out. You felt your heart flutter. Your mind, at the speed of 10mph, quickly began seeing Shino in a new, romantic light. 

You both spent the rest of the day together and as the moon rose you both were lying on the roof of your house, looking at the stars. By then you had summoned up the courage to ask your mind. “Was today a Valentine’s day spent with friends or someone you love?” Shino didn’t respond but the stars of the night sky began to shift. You realizes they were fireflies and they spelled out the words “Someone I love.”

your collar bones,

admins san & sar

[fuj0]

Hi Fujo :] I tired the… comments but… my message was too long.. I have some little guys…. Ok maybe little is not the right word.

But uhm, I’ve been working on my man Geoff’s backstory, and decided he worked at a gas station! But okay- like imagine a tired, tired man working at a gas station who lives off of minimum wage in his old 1977 Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz (of which is slowly breaking down and falling apart) and THEN some punk ass semi drivers start making fun of his baby.

They make fun of Geoff’s falling apart car!! The one he loves dearly with all his heart AND HES LIKE >:/ OH YEAH? My car is ugly?? Huh? Not as much as your sisters mug, bucko. They they’re all like “…ur car is so gross dude. Bet it doesn’t even run anymore.”

And then he storms out of the gas station all huffy like, slamming the door behind him, and gets in his car like I QUIT. I QUIT I QUIT I QUIT. Starts it, right? Doesn’t start. Tries again, still doesn’t start. The truck drivers are cackling like idiots while poor Geoff is tryna start his car :,) Then it finally starts- makes a dying car noise like a choking duck, and sputters off at 10MPH. The drivers still are laughing at him till he can’t see them anymore; and that’s why Geoff hates when people make fun of his car 😌

*exhales, bows, claps* thank you for your time <3

OUGHHH I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS BACKSTORY NO WAY 😭😭 IT FITS THAT GRUMPY BASTARD (AFFECTIONATE) SO PERFECTLYY. Now the question is, how did he meet his buddies in crime?? And how does this car still run after all this?? It's but a myysteryy..... Thank you for sharing -w-) also have a shitpost because this is just too fucking funny