#gym fic

[olives-and-lilies]

Remember those previews??? Well guess what, it’s time~!

I got to work with the ever charming oniifans on a piece for Labrys Bang on twitter, called Strength in Sisterhood

It a super cute gym gals fic where Ochako is encouraged by her friends to try going to a gym after some less than savory encounters at her previous one. Y’all will love it

Designing everyone’s workout wear was a good time, to be honest. And its such a wholesome fic~!

[daughterofhecata]

I'd like to her about the gym fic 👀 hehe

[WIP Wednesday]

Oder dass Cotta es auf die Anstrengung schieben würde.

Obwohl er nun konzentriert die Ampel fokussierte, konnte er ihn am Rande seines Sichtfelds immer noch sehen, die gleichmäßige Bewegung seiner Arme, das langvertraute Gesicht, das er sich in der letzten Zeit vielleicht mehr als einmal abends im Bett vorgestellt hatte. Seit sie sich mehr auf Augenhöhe begegneten; Cotta gelang es scheinbar mühelos, ihn eher wie einen gleichberechtigten Kollegen zu behandeln anstatt wie der neugierige Junge, der er gewesen war.

[vampiefemme]

modern!vi who’s down horrendous for you. she gets home from the gym, sweat-damp and sore, ready for a much-needed shower after hitting a new pr and kicking her own ass during her workout. she’s undressing in the foggy bathroom when her phone pings from the counter, your name lighting up the screen. she tosses her shirt to the side and unlocks the phone to see your message.

missing you sooo bad right now, you’ve texted her. attached is a photo of you, shirtless, with your perfectly manicured nails delicately cupping your tits. might have to touch myself… help me out?

vi scoffs at your message, but she clicks on that photo again, zooms in and analyzes it until she’s sure she’s memorized every individual pixel.

fuck, you’re perfect. fuck fuck fuck.

steam from the shower has fogged up the mirror entirely, and it’s deathly humid in the bathroom. but vi’s got a soft spot for you - she’d do anything you asked her to, even if your version of asking is merely suggesting… no, bribing. that photo was definitely a bribe.

vi messes around with a few potential angles, propping her phone up on the counter, then on the floor, even on the back of the toilet. nothing looks right, and she’s so sweaty and frustrated that she almost decides not to send you anything at all. she rips open the shower curtain, huffing an annoyed sigh before her eyes land on the shower head.

huh, that’s an idea.

fifteen minutes later, as you’re lazily dragging your fingers through your cunt, horny and annoyed that vi hasn’t texted you back, you get a notification. it’s a video, you realize with a giddy whir of excitement, and you click play without a second thought. one hand cradling your phone, the other between your thighs, you watch as vi settles the camera down on a shelf by the window. her scarlet locks are damp with sweat, droplets of water from the shower rolling down her inked skin. fuck, you’ll never get used to that body - she’s all lean muscles and sharp edges, so dangerous until she’s holding you with those calloused hands and curling her frame up against yours.

and now? she’s biting her lip, trying to make a show of trailing a hand down her abdomen - she stops short, though, reaching off to the side instead. her hand returns with the running shower head, and you draw in a sharp, excited breath. as if she could hear you, vi lets out a little chuckle and says, “i know, unexpected. i haven’t done this in years.”

she fiddles with the shower head, flicking a switch at the neck until the water flow changes to a more… optimal setting. the stream’s a lot more focused now, more intense.

“worked myself up a bit before this. hope that’s okay, princess.” vi flashes a smirk at the camera, but with her cheeks painted that pretty pink shade, you know she’s a little embarrassed. uncertain.

you’re grateful that the camera angle lets you see every detail of what vi’s doing - how her body moves. she hitches a leg up against the shower wall, just high enough to spread herself open. the soft curls between her legs are untamed and wet, and your cunt twitches at the sight of vi’s pink, pink cunt, spread beautifully - you only get one glance, though, before the silver shower head blocks your view. vi hisses through her teeth and her hips twitch. you sigh, your fingers playing in the wetness between your legs as you watch vi toss her head back in pleasure. every moan that passes her lips goes straight to your clit - you’re needy, gushing wetter every time you see vi’s tits bounce or her jaw clench.

“fuuuuck,” she cries out, her face a vision of pleasure. mouth hung open, brows knitted together, eyes foggy with lust. “gonna come, shit, baby…”

water drips from vi’s hair down to her shoulders, rolling in beads down her tense chest. she’s heaving, panting, gasping your name as her orgasm slams into her, tatted biceps flexing as she forces the shower head to stay in place. her orgasm seems to last forever, streams of water gushing from her pussy down to the shower floor - and then she’s done, spent.

it’s almost like vi forgets about the camera for a moment. she hums in pleasure, still panting a bit as she comes back down from her high. she licks her lips, then her eyes meet the camera - and oh, she looks wrecked.

“hope that’s enough material for you, pretty girl,” she says to the camera, winking playfully before the video cuts out.

[cupcakeinat0r]

Thinkin' abt DadBod!Miguel at the gym <3

You'd been going to the gym routinely, or at least trying to. You decided to go after working up the courage and convincing yourself that this was just for fun. That your body was your temple, and you were tending to it, no matter how it looked <3

The first week wasn't so bad. After embarrassingly tripping on equipment or accidentally dropping weights here and there, it was alright! Though at times, it was still difficult to stay consistent, until one day, you saw him.

Over on the other side of the gym, curling some dumbbells (100s, mind you), was a total 6-foot, thick, hairy dream of a man. You first noticed his chiseled face adorned by fine lines, locks of black hair framing it. With each draw of the weights, his biceps bulged. Beads of sweat trickled down his bulky chest and wide shoulders. When your eyes wander downward, you're surprised to not find washboard abs.

Oh no, what you find instead excites you even more than any pack of abs could offer you.

Your mouth waters slightly to find that his tank top has ridden up slightly over his hefty belly, graciously allowing a peek at a happy trail, its path sadly blocked by some basketball shorts (his cute bubble butt and giant dick print made up for it tho).

Despite his low, breathy grunts and intense crimson gaze towards his own reflection, he was making it look easy. You thought about how easy it'd probably be for him to carry you bride-style and throw you onto a bed before spreading your legs with those enormous hands so he could feast until your eyes crossed. Or how it'd be effortless for him to hold you tightly with your legs wrapped around that stocky midsection of his while he bullied his-

"'scuse me, you waiting for this bench?" a deep voice snaps you out of a daydream. You see the man is now looking at you with what looks like a knowing smirk. Fuck, he noticed you staring.

"Oh! N-no, was just looking for the 10s!" You blurt, evoking a velvety chuckle and dashing smile from him.

"Right over there." He motions with his chin toward the weight rack where the 10s are obviously displayed. After you thanked him, He smiled and nodded back to you, turning back toward the mirror to do his last set.

The second week felt like no problem. Instead of dragging yourself to the gym, you looked forward to it, scanning for your new gym crush every time you entered.

You'd feel a lil surge of happiness when you do find him there, feeling brave enough to exchange smiles and sometimes even little waves from across the gym. One time, the older man made you swoon when he winked at you upon entering the gym. After seeing your cute reaction, this would be how he greeted you every time.

The third week came You're at the squat rack, feeling stronger than usual, so you opt to go the heaviest you've ever gone. Big mistake. By the third rep, you fail to get back up, panicking and legs shaking. Just when you feel yourself start to fall, you see a pair of hands dart toward the bar from behind you, lifting it with ease and allowing you to stand back up. The bar is re-racked and you turn to find gym bae.

"You okay?" he gently prompts, a worried look on his face.

"Yes, thank you... think I might've gone too heavy." you nervously chuckle. He does as well, seeing that you're alright.

"Next time you go for a PR, you need to ask for a spotter, hun." He gives you that dashing smile again, his hands on his love handles.

"Yeah, I probably should've," you lower your head in defeat, "I didn't bring anyone with me though."

"You could've asked me," He says matter of factly as if it should've been obvious that he should be the one to spot you. "I would've done it with no problem, mama." His pet names make your womanhood pulse.

You look back up at him, your lips curled into a shy smile.

"C'mon, let's try again." "No, no, mama, I got that, I'll put it away for you." "Keep your knees like this-theeeere you go. "Gimme one more, mama, just one more, you can do it." "Atta girl! Good job, mamita."

You learned that his name is Miguel. He'd become your designated spotter on leg days, the sensation of his larger frame against yours making you nervous in the best way.

Your favorite is when his tummy accidentally brushes against your back, and borderline, your ass, and if not his tummy, it'd be his prominent bulge (which isn't there bc he gets to spot the adorable girl with an amazing ass from the gym... totally not that).

On the Fourth week, Miguel would ask you if you wanted to be workout buddies altogether. Of course, you accept, in which he asks for your number so like that, he can text you when he's going and vice versa.

It's the fifth week, and you both have worked out together a couple times already. Miguel texted you in the morning asking if you'd like to join him, which you were totally down for.

You two started with lateral pull-downs. Once it was your turn, you sat on the machine and reached for the handle, pulling it as you began your set.

Anytime you felt like you wanted advice or correction, Miguel eagerly helped you.

His hands would stay on your waist, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Mhm, there you go, you're doin' so good, mama." He praises in almost a whisper.

If only he knew he was making the exercise only harder. As if that weren't enough, his finger would occasionally message your hip. Your bodies were so close that you were able to hear each satisfied hum from his lips, suggesting you were doing the exercise right.

"Good girl, that was better. You feel it now?" He says, letting go to let you off the machine.

"Yeah, thank you! When it comes to upper body, I'll need all the help I can get. I'm just glad I’m getting it from an upper-body master." You flirtatiously add, playfully poking at one of his biceps.

This makes him blush, but only for a moment before he returns with a cocky response, "Thanks, hun. I'm glad to be working out with a leg-day goddess."

Now it was your turn to blush, except you didn't have any smart comeback, boosting Miguel's ego.

"Listen, let me treat you to smoothie after this, yeah?" He says it more like a statement than a request, and you happily oblige.

What you were expecting was a simple, cheap smoothie from a spot you usually go to, but instead, you're met with a drive-thru menu listing shakes from $20 and up. Oh he got moneyyyy.

Miguel tells you to pick any that looks good to you. He orders for himself and you as well, parking the car once the two of you get the smoothies.

As he sips from the cup, you take the opportunity to subtly glance at his figure, his muscles, how his pecs sit beautifully on top of his soft belly, his thighs constrained by the confines of his gym shorts. You think how badly you wanna sit there, grinding on the print 'til there was a wet spot-

"Something on your mind, mama?" You look back at him, taking a few seconds to register his words.

You hastily look back down at your drink and shake your head, “Nothing… thank you so much for this, it’s delicious!”

then he grabs the shoulder of your chair to lean toward you, “Of course, mama, but I don’t think you’re being completely truthful with me, hm?”

You look at him, playfully shaking your head again, knowing full well you’ve been caught.

“What’s in that pretty lil head of yours, hm? dime.” He puts the smoothie into the cup holder to free his other hand, placing it on your thigh, and softly squeezes it. “Just say the word, and you’ll get anything you want.”

Your lips curl slyly as you think of a response.

“Well… we never did cardio.”

Now you were here in his car, being bounced on his fat dick on the passenger seat, holding onto his his big shoulders for dear life. You were basically his fleshlight at this point… with those big hands.

You could feel his body now taut against yours, your tits bouncing relentlessly, his muscled, thick thighs below your ass, his balls slapping against your pussy lips, his bush tickling your clit, his pelvis pushing your ass up and his curved belly against your front side. It all was sending you into euphoria.

With you vigorously bouncing on his cock and his beautiful moaning, you fully let go. “Aw yes, Daddy,“ you mumbled without thinking.

In fact, you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was this fat cock and your pussy was memorizing all its veins and curves.

“Mmfuck baby, yea, say that again f’me”, he groaned through gritted teeth as he mercilessly bounced you down his painfully hard shaft.

“Please, Daddy, please!” You whined with your hands desperately seeking support on his big shoulders.

You can feel the sheet of sweat on his belly and on his thighs, which turned the smacking of your ass sound even more lewd.

“Fuck, say it again.” He growled, getting faster now.

“Mmmm, Daddy— Daddy, pleaseeee.”

“Louder, baby, c’mon—“

“UNGH DADDYYYY”

“Oh FUCK… you wanted cardio, baby, I’ll give you cardio… fuckin’ take it… coño.” Your panting became synchronized with every pound of his cock into your abused and bruised cunt, getting higher and higher in pitch, firing him up to go faster and harder.

“Gonna cum on this fat cock, right? Gonna cum f’me, mami?” He ordered, dropping octaves from his usual gentle tone with you.

“Mmmnn, Nnyesyyesyesyes—“ you babbled, the shakiness of your voice the result of the aggressive bouncing.

“Ah… carajo…” his cock accidentally slips out from your cunt, making you wince from the sudden empty sensation.

Holding up your ass, he takes a moment to admire the view, hissing from the sight of his angrily red cock and veins pulsing from your cunt sucking him in so deliciously. A ring of your cream erotically placed at the base of his length, just above his perfect bush. He guides his fat tip back to your dripping cunt using his thumb, pushing it back into your swollen folds.

He was back to ramming into your abused cunt in no time, chasing each others high’s.

“C’mon…fuck, c’mon, mama, you’re almost there…. Aw f-fuck… almost there…” he moans with his brows knitted and through a clenched jaw.

“Daddy I’m g’na— I’m cummingimcummingimcumming—“

“Aw, fuck, asi— asi mami— ah, ah…” Miguel holds back choked whines as he get closer, not allowing himself to let go until he knew you came first.

You speak in gibberish before crying into your climax, Miguel letting out a long, exasperated groan when he reaches his. You can feel his hot cum overfilling you, making you whine as it leaks down your thigh.

After draining himself completely, making sure every drop was in you, he gently pulls out, “Fuck… you did so good for me, mama… so good.”

Miguel lets you rest against his heaving chest and soft belly, rubbing your back as you caught your breath. You smiled a tired smile when you notice how hard Miguel is breathing as well, knowing you worked him out, too.

“You ok, mamita?” He plants a tender kiss on your shoulder, making a trail up your neck and finally to your forehead.

“Mhm,” you hum, you look up at him and are met with his plump, wet lips, tongues becoming entangled with each other as he groans into your mouth.

“I say… we do cardio like this every day.”

A/n: Haiii, I hope u liked it <3 Love my man sm <3 None of my gym baes could ever compare to himmmmm😭😭😭

@angel-of-the-moons Ty Ty Ty my luv for planting the seed in my head <3

Want more DadBod!Miguel ? Here’s my master list, bae!!

[frownyalfred]

Broke: Dick hates being Batman because he’s his own vigilante and doesn’t want the responsibility of the cowl

Woke: Dick hates being Batman because he has to bulk for a few weeks beforehand in order to look convincing in the suit

I feel like Dick gets the heads up text from Bruce, groans, and turns around to hit Costco for chicken breast and greek yogurt.

Because he’s muscular as Nightwing, absolutely, but he’s not carrying as much muscle on a given day like Jason and Bruce are. He needs to be more agile than them, and as a result he’s a little leaner.

Taking on the cowl, even temporarily, means bulking up as quickly as possible. Because even if he pads the suit, the goons don’t know that. They’re still gonna hit Batman like he’s carrying the same amount of mass.

[webbluvrsugar]

in a different world, Rafe would be one of those gym bros…

No cause he would be very smooth with his plans, he would see you all the way up from where you’re doing your Pilates class, and when you’re not taking a class, he would glance at you when you’re doing legs and be sneaky about it, and when in the middle of your sets, he sees you refilling your drink with one of those fruity mixes you love so much, he smiles, approaches you from behind like those classic moves, claiming he didn’t see you and playing around with how short you are compared to him, just that typical chad you know, and somehow it works on you. He leans against the fountain drink dispenser and flips his cap back, looks up and down at you with a smirk on the corner of his lips, tells you that if you ever need help on your sets that he doesn’t mind helping, he’s free anytime - even when he’s training - so you smile, nod and leave with the bottle on your lips, walking around with your little shorts back to your machine as you feel the look he’s giving straight to your ass, pretending you don’t notice his techniques.

You bite into it, start asking more and more for his help cause “chest is so hard to do rafey, I can’t do it alone.” and he likes it, likes feeling needed and likes that he’s helping you on something you pretend to not know how to do, acting all girly and feminine next to him because you’re low-key into it, into the toxic masculinity he expresses, so eventually you give him you’re number and go on a few dates, you lead him onto your bed to see if what he says is really true and he’s nasty with it. rough. careless.

He’s pounding you onto the bed while he makes you take it face down, one hand fisting your hair as he presses your face on the mattress, the other occasionally marking your butt with slaps because he says “that sweet lil’ ass has been tempting me for too long now.” you clench around him and cry out underneath - drooling the pillow underneath you and whining - he only scoffs, smirks and slaps you harder, “know that shit turns you on, look at her, clenching ‘round my dick like a vice.” and he’s right, because all of this does turn you on, his groans on your ear as he acts like he doesn’t care about nothing but your cunt and the way you arch for him, the filthy things he says.

“Not going tomorrow are you? don’t even know if you’ll be walk.” and you can’t answer him, you’re too busy moaning, whining and crying, because the man on top of you has a lot of stamina and you can’t handle it, and when he’s finally done, letting you go with a final slap on your ass, he gets off from your bed, throws the condom away and leaves, you have no idea if he’ll text you or not, if you were just a good lay, but it passes a few days and he’s asking you out on a date.

[goldenspringmornings]

acotar definitely has the worst mmc’s in modern romantasy cause why can I not think of one single interest rhysand has outside of feyre like damn this series is really gonna make me give edward cullen his flowers cause at least he had a life outside of bella😭

[rainbow-nerdss]

"How come you never talk to me about sports?"

It's late in the afternoon on a lazy Sunday, and they're just curled up on the couch together. Eddie's got a book in one hand, and he's carding the fingers of his other through Steve's hair. Steve's got the sports pages from the morning paper in his lap, and he's looking through it idly.

He stops when he hears Eddie's question, though, cranes his neck back to look at him.

"Huh?"

"How come you never talk about sports? I just realised I don't even know what teams you support." Eddie dog-ears his book and sets his book aside as he asks.

Steve frowns. "But… you don't care about sports. Like, at all. Why would I bore you by talking about it?"

"Are you bored when I talk about D&D?” Eddie asks, hand stilling in Steve’s hair. Steve shakes his head. “I tell you about my sessions all the time. I tell you about the books I'm reading and music shit, and you always listen to me. You don't really care about any of that stuff, either."

Steve shakes his head. "Yeah, but that’s different,” he tries to argue.

“How so?”

Steve wracks his brain for the words to describe it. “I like listening to you talk about D&D because you get so excited. I like hearing you talk about something you care about."

Eddie smiles and kisses Steve’s forehead. He looks almost smug, like he’s won a debate Steve hadn’t even realised he was part of.

"So let me ask again. Why don't you talk about sports more?"

Steve is quiet, staring at nothing in the distance as he puts the pieces together.

"I never... Nobody ever.... I mean, except Lucas, but Robin and Dustin always rolled their eyes when I made references to it, so..."

Eddie cups Steve’s face and looks him in the eye. "Tell me something."

"What?"

"I don't know. What's the drama right now? How's your team doing in the league or the championship or whatever it's called? Tell me about the last game you saw on TV! I wanna hear you talk about your interests, too."

Steve feels warmth burst in his chest as he sets the newspaper aside. 

Eddie leans back against the couch, watching fondly as he listens. Steve is hesitant at first, stumbling over his words. A little voice in the back of his head keeps tripping him up, telling him Eddie doesn't care about any of this and you're boring him, wrap it up.

Every time he lets the voice win, though, every time he stops talking, trails off, or tries to change the topic to something Eddie might enjoy more, Eddie asks him a question.

"What does that rule mean?"

"How does team selection even work?" 

"What would your dream line-up look like right now?"

And Steve answers. And Eddie listens.

When Eddie finally runs out of questions, Steve's surprised by how happy he is.

"You're really cute when you talk about sports, you know that right? Your face lights up with it."

Steve leans in and kisses Eddie. "I love you."

"Love you too, babe. I really do."

[elliebarker]

keepin’ it steady ( a. anderson )

category: gym-rat!abby x gf!reader blurb 

author’s note: inspired by this post…ty @iiseor, i don’t workout so all my knowledge for this post comes from those two guys on tt who do gym skits.

with hands tightly clasped behind her head– for better form or to keep her hands off you is debatable– your girlfriend, abby, began lifting her hips up and down, in crunch-like formation. only, this time she wasn’t using a weight. she had you sitting on top of her lap whilst she was exercising.

“quit moving,” abby said, in reply to you shifting our weight; trying to find a spot in which her pelvic bones were stabbing into your thighs.

“i’m trying the best i can abs.”

“it’s alright, sweetheart, just trying to make sure my reps are even,” she replied, “keepin’ it steady.”

“this good?” you say, adjusting your weight to around the middle.

“it's perfect.” abby slurred. and my wow, did that give you butterflies. yes, she might've said it solely to get you to stop moving, but there in the moment, hands on her chest, that was so goddamn intoxicating. you thought back to earlier this morning…the two of you had sat down for coffee and breakfast and abby had something on her phone she was pulling up for you.

“wouldn’t that be so cool?” you looked at her like she was insane. 

“you're telling me, you want me to be on top of you while you workout?” you asked, smirking at abby. 

“c'mon baby, please?” she begged.

“i don’t know…” you replied, “i think i might weigh too much. plus don’t you need to focus on the goals you're already lifting?”

“aw, baby,” she cupped your face, “nothing’s too heavy for me.” she boosted. “plus, you're the weight i need to be focusing on,” she said, winking at you. abby’s voice then dragged you out of your reflection to that morning

“you know you can take your hands off right?” abby snarked, ”you're not gonna fall, girl.”

“what?” you said, “oh,” lifting your hands off her chest and crossing them against your chest. abby finished her set, tapping you on your back– a signal to stand up– and then went to cool down, as you made your way to the locker room.

[fourtyforever]

doodletober 14: we're going with show me your neck by @lil-shiro. iconic strollonso behavior tbh, and my apologies to henry who is oddly hard to draw right

[starsinthesky5]

see this? keep this joe, this sweaty gym joe in mind for the next part of nothings gonna hurt you baby 🗣️

he’s so fucking hot im gone

[metamatronic]

i have so many things i need to do and yet my brain continues to supply me with new, absolutely insane AU concepts (pokemon edition)

[orykorioart]

Some pride art for these guys :-)

(+little wip sketch for a cover of a fic I’m working on that I’m hooooping to get out this month)

[growup-thatbeautiful]

Can I get asking gym crush!Dave Lizewski to spot you and needing his help. I think that could spark a beautiful romance

a:n: yes of course!! if anyone wants more of this idea definitely give me any thoughts. college aged dave :)

It's embarrassing. You don't even know his name, and you've never once talked to him. Sometimes he comes in with his friends- two of them- but you haven't caught any information about him besides his frankly impressive workout routine. And it's not like you see him a lot; he comes here way less than you. Yet somehow he seems to be stronger than most other regulars at the gym.

It’s probably for the best that you don’t see him a lot, though. Because when he is there, you find it hard to focus on anything except for him. Everywhere you look he seems to be there in the corner of your eye or in the glimpse of the mirrored wall.

It's unfair, really. No one should be able to look that good while covered in sweat, his curls sticking up in every direction and matted to the back of his neck. The compression shirt that he's wearing is dark with sweat, but his expression doesn't look fazed at all.

Today, though, you're determined for it to be different. You have a few more reps you want to do at the machine, then your plan is to go to the bar and do squats. Then you have your usual cool-down mile and stretching routine. Distractions don't fit into your schedule, especially because you’re already bone-tired today.

You do the last rep, timing your breath in and out to your movement. There's a pleasant, constant tiredness in your legs that you’ve come to love, and the music blasting in your ears pushes you towards your next exercise.

Luckily, the bar is open and you’re able to start your set right away. Maybe it's because you're still a little bit sore from your last leg day, or maybe you're just not feeling it today, but it feels harder than usual. By the third set, your legs are shaking much more than usual and you’re having trouble getting through the reps.

It’s definitely not your smartest decision ever to keep going, but you really don’t to stop early. Some part of you thinks that you can just push through and make it; the reasonable part of you is saying that you’re going to need someone to spot you.

Looking around, you don’t see anyone you know- no friends or friends of a friend. It’s relatively empty for the time of day, but you need to ask someone to spot you.

And in the opposite corner of the gym, there he is. He’s not doing any reps, and from the way he’s checking his phone you don’t think that he’s in the middle of any.

You try to tell yourself that everyone else is busy and he’s the only option, but you know it’s not true. Even if he was busy, you would wait for him to finish and ask him anyways. There’s no telling when you’re going to have another opportunity like this to talk to him- at least you have an excuse to go up to him.

If your legs weren’t already shaking, they are as you walk over towards him. It’s a sin, for him to look at good as he does without really doing anything at all. Your own music blasting through one of your dangling earbuds isn’t enough to calm your nerves. He’s wearing headphones too, so he can’t hear you coming, and he seems immersed in whatever he’s doing, so you stand there awkwardly while he finishes. When he looks up at you, a smile makes its way across his face, and he holds out his hand for you to shake it, not caring about the obvious sweat.

You tell him your name and shake him hand, your stomach doing flips the whole time.

He, in turn, introduces himself. “I’m Dave. Do you need something?” He says it with a pleasant tone, but he must think that he’s been rude because he backtracks immediately. “Shit, that sounded rude, sorry. I just- people don’t usually come up to me.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a laugh. “I actually wanted to ask you if you could spot me. I only have a few sets left.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” He looks genuinely excited at your request, and he dutifully follows you to your rack.

You take a deep breath and look at the weights waiting for you. The soreness in your body seems worse now that he’s there standing behind you, his hands clasped behind his back. When you take another breath, it sounds a lot like a sigh. You’re thrilled that he’s willing to help you, but you don’t want him to think you’re weak.

“Hey, you got this,” he says lowly. “I’ve seen you do this a million times before, it’s just another rep, yeah?”

You don’t have the brainpower to think about him saying he’s seen you do this before because all of your thoughts go to his hand on your back, gently urging your forward towards the bar. He doesn’t say anything more, but the message is received.

You step underneath the bar and stand up straight, the bar’s weight settling into your shoulders. You can’t see Dave behind you, but you can feel the heat of his hands underneath your arms as he supports you.

You breathe in. Go down.

Breathe out. Push yourself up.

Do it again. And again 8 more times before stepping forward to rerack the weights.

When you turn around, Dave is looking up at the ceiling, his hands straight down at his sides. You fix your hair and pause your music before taking a sip of water.

“Dave?” you ask. “You can look at me, you know.”

“I didn’t want you to think that I was checking you out,” he explains while he brings his eyes to yours. “M’not gonna be that guy.”

“I appreciate it,” you respond, your heart warming at the sentiment. “Really, I do. But I wouldn’t mind you looking.” It’s not exactly the most subtle hint you’ve ever given a guy, but something tells you that subtle isn’t the right approach with Dave.

“What?” He really looks clueless as to what you’re talking about, his head tilted to the side. Your brain helpfully supplies you with “puppy dog.”

Too subtle, then. “Do you want to get coffee after this?” You’re positive that your smile is uncertain and crooked.

“Me?” he asks.

“Yes, you,” you laugh. “Look, I know you don’t know me, but I’d like to get to know you.”

“I’d like that, too.” The grin on his face is wide and full, bringing light and laugh lines to his eyes. You haven’t seen this smile from him yet, which is probably a good thing because it has a dangerous effect on you. “You have another set left,” he informs you. “So why don’t we finish that up and go get coffee after?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, stepping back underneath the bar, a renewed vigor in your legs. That vigor, of course, goes away when you actually start the last set.

You do the first five without an issue, but you start struggling more with the sixth. By the eighth rep, you’re face is twisted with effort and you can barely get back up.

Dave doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s there. And his presence is fully reassured to you when he mutters close to your ear, “Come on, just a few more. I’m right here.”

He has to help you with the last rep, his arms supporting you underneath your armpits as he takes some of the weight off and helps you get back the the rack. It forces him much closer to you than before, and you can feel his heart racing against your back. You know yours is beating just as fast.

“Thank you,” you tell him, a little bit out of breath still. “You’re a live-saver.”

A funny look comes across his face at that, but it clears away in a blink. “Anytime.”

“How about that coffee?” you ask, grabbing your keys and water before shooting a quick text to your friends so they know where you’re going. Then, holding out your hand, you say, “It’s the least I can do.”

He takes your hand in between his own, leading you towards his own pile of things. “I know a good place around here.”

“Lead the way,” you tell him.

Maybe asking for his help wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[onlyforyoukook]

Cherry Vanilla || SCB

paring: personal trainer¡changbin x fem¡reader

synopsis: changbin is a well known bodybuilder in your gym. so everyone wants to be his client, but he doesn’t do personal training—so he says.. though he only makes an exception for you.

genre: oneshot„ smut, non idol au.

wc: 2.9k

MDNI.

warnings: gym sex, dom¡changbin, pwp, public sex, pussy eating, cum swallowing, rough sex, unprotected sex, (as you all should know wrap before you tap) choking, dirty talk, possessive kink, use of the name princess.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glance toward the weight rack, your legs already aching from the last set. The gym is buzzing as usual, but your eyes can’t help but wander to Changbin. Everyone knows him. How could they not? The broad shoulders, the sharp jawline, the way he moves like the weights are just an extension of his body. He’s untouchable.

And yet, here you are—his one and only exception.

“Take five,” he says, his deep voice pulling you out of your daze. He leans against the nearby bench, crossing his arms in a way that only highlights the definition in them. “You’re rushing your sets again.”

“I’m not rushing,” you argue, though the burn in your muscles says otherwise.

Changbin raises an eyebrow. “Really? Because your form says differently.”

You groan, sinking onto the bench beside him. He hands you a water bottle, and your fingers brush briefly, sending a jolt up your arm. You try to ignore it, but you know he doesn’t miss the way you fumble with the cap.

“You’re lucky I agreed to this,” he teases, his lips curving into that signature smirk.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you shoot back, though the truth hangs in the air between you. You had asked. Hesitantly. Half-expecting him to shut you down like he did everyone else. But instead, he’d said yes.

His eyes soften slightly, and he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

Your heart skips. He doesn’t look at you often like this—serious, vulnerable. The air feels heavier than the weights scattered across the floor.

“Why me?” you whisper before you can stop yourself.

Changbin exhales a small laugh, shaking his head like you just asked the most ridiculous question in the world. “Because,” he says, his gaze locking onto yours, “you’re not like the rest of them. You don’t want me for my name or my reputation. You just want… me.”

The words hang between you, wrapping around your heart and leaving you breathless.

“And I want you,” he adds quietly, his voice softer now. His hand brushes against yours on the bench, and this time, neither of you pulls away. “Not just here. Not just for this.”

Your chest tightens as his words sink in, and suddenly, the gym feels like the smallest place in the world.

“You know, this training thing?” He smirks again, but there’s a new warmth behind it. “It was just an excuse to spend more time with you.”

You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. Instead, you let the moment speak for itself as you lean closer, his breath mingling with yours, the scent of sweat and something distinctly him filling the air.

“Guess we’ll have to see where this goes,” you whisper, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing softly against the back of your hand. “Let’s see where it goes.”

He straightens suddenly, pulling you to your feet before you can ask what he’s doing. Without a word, he nods toward the locker rooms, a playful spark lighting up his eyes.

“Changbin?” you ask, confused.

“Follow me,” he says, his voice low and filled with something that sends heat rushing to your face.

You hesitate, glancing around the gym, but his hand is firm around yours as he guides you toward the shower area. Your heart pounds louder than your footsteps, every step feeling like a line you’re crossing—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Once you’re inside, the sound of distant showers running and the hum of fluorescent lights fill the space. Changbin turns to face you, his expression softer now, his earlier teasing replaced with something deeper.

“I didn’t bring you here for anything crazy,” he says quietly, as though reading your mind. His hands slide up your arms, holding you steady. “I just wanted a moment with you. Somewhere quiet. Just us.”

His gaze drops to your lips, and you feel your breath hitch as the warmth of his hands spreads through you.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he murmurs, leaning closer until there’s barely any space between you.

And then his lips meet yours, slow and deliberate, as if he’s pouring everything he feels into the kiss. The world outside the locker room disappears, leaving only the heat of his touch, the strength of his hold, and the way your heart races to keep up.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet.

“Tell me this is okay,” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of the showers.

You nod, your voice trembling as you whisper back, “It’s more than okay.”

He smiles, his hands sliding down to intertwine with yours. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon.”

His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pulls you closer, flush against his body. You can feel the hard muscles of his chest against yours, the heat radiating from him. His lips trail down your jawline, leaving a trail of soft kisses and nips.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Your core starts to heat up, just by his words.

He moves his lips to your neck, finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. He bites down gently, causing a soft gasp to escape your lips. His hands roam over your body, exploring every curve and contour.

“Every time I see you, I just want to take you right then and there,” he growls, his words sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

He pushes you against the lockers, his body pressing against yours. His lips move back to yours, claiming them in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, exploring and dominating. His hands slide under your shirt, gripping your boobs.

“You're mine,” he whispers against your lips, his voice possessive and fierce.

Changbin slowly drops to his knees in front of you, his hands moving down your body as he goes. He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire and hunger. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down slowly. You moan at his actions.

“Changbin please”

“You're going to have to keep quiet, princess,” he says, his voice low and seductive. “We don't want anyone hearing us, do we?”

“No.. we don’t” you quietly say if not below a whisper

“Good girl” he says as he pulls your pants down completely, tossing them aside. He leans forward, his breath hot against your skin as he kisses your inner thighs. His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he continues to tease you.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, his lips moving higher and higher.

He reaches the apex of your thighs, his tongue darting out to tease your sensitive flesh. He looks up at you, his eyes locked onto yours as he begins to work his magic.

“I could do this all day,” he says, his voice muffled against you. “You're so responsive.”

“c..come on don’t tease me please” You moan out

“cute. a good girl, who’s also respectful” He begins kissing up your core, his tongue circling around your clit, slowly building up the tension in your body. He alternates between licking and sucking, drawing soft moans and gasps from your lips. His hands grip your thighs, keeping you spread open for him.

“You're so beautiful when you're like this,” he murmurs, his words sending vibrations through your body. “So desperate and needy for me.”

Changbin's tongue flicks against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You let out a moan, unable to control the sounds escaping your lips.

“Please... don't stop,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Changbin grins against you, sensing that you're close. He increases the pace of his tongue, working you relentlessly towards your peak. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, and he's doing it with expert precision.

“That's it, princess,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “Let go for me.”

You feel the familiar coil of tension building in your core, your body tensing in anticipation. Changbin knows you're on the verge, and he doubles down his efforts.

“I can feel you getting close,” he growls, his voice low and commanding. “Give in to it, baby.”

The coil snaps, and you let out a cry as your orgasm washes over you. Changbin holds you steady, his tongue working you through it as you shudder and tremble above him.

“Good girl,” he says, his voice filled with satisfaction. “You did so well for me.”

Changbin doesn't pull away as you cum, instead continuing to lick and suck until he's swallowed every drop. When he finally pulls back, he looks up at you with a satisfied smirk.

“You taste so good,” he says, licking his lips.

The sight of him swallowing your cum is so damn sexy that you feel your core getting wetter again. You can feel the heat building up inside you once more, your body craving more of his touch.

Changbin's patience is wearing thin, and he's starting to get impatient. He spins you around, pushing you against the lockers with a rough shove.

“Enough of that,” he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. “I need to be inside you, now.”

He slides down his pants, freeing his hard cock from its confines. He strokes it a few times, letting out a low groan as he prepares himself for you.

He lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock teasing your sensitive flesh. He looks down at you, his eyes dark with desire and dominance.

“You ready for me, princess?” he asks, his voice rough and demanding.

You nod eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation. You arch your back, presenting yourself to him, ready to be taken.

“Please, Binnie,” you beg, your voice breathless and needy. “I need you inside me.”

The nickname slips out of your mouth without you even realizing it, but it has an immediate effect on Changbin. He lets out a low growl, his grip on your hips tightening even further.

“Say that again,” he demands, his voice rough with need.

You look back at him over your shoulder, a sly smile on your face.

“Binnie,” you repeat, drawing out the word slowly. “Please, Binnie. I want you so bad.”

Changbin's eyes darken even further, and he lets out a primal growl as he slams into you in one swift motion. He buries himself to the hilt, filling you completely.

“That's it,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he begins to move. “You're mine, and you'll always be mine.”

You cry out as he starts to thrust, the sound echoing through the locker room. You press your forehead against the cool metal of the lockers, trying to ground yourself as he pounds into you from behind.

“Y-yours,” you manage to gasp out, your body already overwhelmed by the intense pleasure.

Changbin's movements become rougher and more demanding as he loses himself in the moment. He pulls you back against him, one hand wrapping around your throat as he holds you in place. He doesn't apply too much pressure, but the feeling of his hand around your neck is enough to send shivers down your spine.

As he continues to pound into you, you can feel your body responding to his dominance. Your pussy squeezes his cock, clenching around him tightly as if trying to pull him even deeper inside you.

Changbin lets out a strangled moan as he feels your pussy tighten around him. He tightens his grip on your throat, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Fuck, princess,” he growls, his breath hot against your ear. “You're so tight...so perfect for me.”

You whimper as he tightens his grip on your throat, the sensation of being held in place by him adding to the already overwhelming pleasure. You can barely form coherent thoughts, your mind consumed by the feeling of him inside you.

“Y-yes,” you manage to gasp out. “I'm yours...yours to use...yours to do whatever you want...”

Changbin's pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he approaches his climax. He releases your throat, his hand moving to grip your hair instead, pulling your head back.

“That's right,” he grunts, his lips finding your neck. “You belong to me, and I'll do whatever I want with you. You're mine to claim, mine to mark, mine to use however I please”

He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving behind a trail of marks that will be visible for days to come. His breath is hot against your skin, his words sending shivers down your spine.

“You're mine, and everyone will know it,” he growls, his grip on your hair tightening as he continues to pound into you. “Every time you look in the mirror, you'll see my marks on you. You'll remember who you belong to.”

You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body trembling with the force of your impending orgasm. Changbin's words and actions are driving you wild, and you can feel yourself giving in to his complete dominance over you.

“P-please,” you whimper, your voice hoarse from moaning and gasping. “I'm so close...please, let me cum...”

Changbin grins against your neck, his lips curving into a smirk as he feels your body tense up beneath him. He knows you're on the edge, and he's not about to give in so easily.

“Not yet,” he says, his voice rough and commanding. “You're going to hold it for me. You're going to wait until I say you can cum.”

You let out a frustrated whine, your body aching with need. You want to cum so badly, but you know that you have to obey his command.

“B-but I can't...” you protest, your voice shaking with desperation. “'m so close, Binnie...please, I can't hold it anymore...”

Changbin chuckles darkly, clearly enjoying your struggle to hold back your orgasm. He slows his pace slightly, prolonging the torture as he continues to tease you.

“You can and you will,” he says firmly, his hand tightening in your hair. “You're going to be a good girl and hold it for me until I give you permission. Understand?”

You nod frantically, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes. You're so desperate to cum, but you don't want to disappoint him. You bite your lip, trying to focus on anything other than the pleasure building up inside you.

“Y-yes, I understand,” you gasp out, your voice trembling. “I'll be good...I'll wait for you...”

Changbin's breathing becomes ragged as he nears his own release. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he fights to hold back.

“Fuck, I'm so close,” he groans, his hips stuttering as he struggles to maintain his rhythm. “I need to come, princess can I cum inside of you?”

You whimper at his question, the thought of him filling you with his cum sending another wave of pleasure through your body. You're desperate for it, desperate to feel him release inside you.

lY-yes,” you gasp out, your voice pleading. “Please, cum inside me, Binnie..”

Changbin lets out a low growl at your response, his control slipping further away with each passing moment. He picks up the pace again, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he chases his own release.

“You're going to be so full of me,” he pants, his words sending shivers down your spine.

Changbin's grip on your hair tightens even more, and he suddenly pulls your head back, forcing you to look up at him.

“Now, princess,” he growls, his eyes dark with lust. “Cum for me. I want to feel you clench around me as I fill you up.”

His words are all it takes to push you over the edge. You cry out his name as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing with pleasure as you finally find release.

Changbin groans as he feels you clench around him, the sensation of your tightness sending him over the edge as well. He buries himself deep inside you, his hips jerking as he spills himself into you, filling you with his hot seed.

“Fuck, that was incredible,” he pants, his voice muffled against your skin. “You're so good for me, princess...so perfect.”

Changbin pulls out of you slowly, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips as he sees the mess he's made between your legs. He leans over to grab a towel from his gym bag, gently cleaning you up.

“You're a mess, princess,” he teases, his voice low and husky. “I guess it's a good thing I have some spare clothes in my locker.”

Changbin scoops you up into his arms, lifting you effortlessly off the bench. You cling to him, still feeling weak and boneless from the intensity of your encounter. He grins down at you, a possessive gleam in his eyes as he carries you out of the locker room.

As you both exit, all eyes turn towards you. Whispers and murmurs fill the air, the other students unable to hide their surprise and envy at the sight of Changbin carrying you like a bride.

“You're mine now, y/n,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. “And I'm going to make sure everyone knows it.”

masterlist

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOURTEEN

in which eddie finally offers you an honesty hour. which is great, until you learn you've bit off more than you're capable of chewing. (oh, and we find out more of what happened at steve's infamous party)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 5k+

→ a/n: there is still one more bit of the memory left for steve's party!! i broke it into three bits because otherwise it would be too long as one giant clump lol. sorry this is being posted so late... but hey! it's here! see y'all again thursday lol thank you to everyone for continuing to be so kind about this story and show it so much love

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

14:00 ────────ㅇ─────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER 

It’s Eddie. You only know because when Nancy opens the door, she greets him loudly, letting her drunken squeal echo down the hallway and into the kitchen. 

“Munson! Finally!” her voice carries, and you fight the urge to try and move to peek through the doorway to see him, “Took you long enough!” 

Eddie's voice is too quiet for you to hear his reply. He’s not drunk, not fueled by reckless decisions and overflowing affections like most of the other friends were already. 

There’s a terrible twisting in your gut at his arrival, and you know it shows across your face when Robin looks at you apologetically. As if for a moment, they had forgotten they way you and Eddie avoided each other. As if for a moment, they had all pretended that the entire group could convene and it could be easy, and that was on them instead of you or Eddie. But it wasn’t on them. That blame could never fall on them.

It was on Eddie, you decided. He was the one who more ardently avoided you rather than vice versa. He was the one with a sharper tongue between the two of you, always snappy, always irritated with you. It was on Eddie. It should be on Eddie. 

Except, you still felt bad about the Chrissy ordeal. He may have acted as if he disliked you for no reason before, but now he was hating you with reason. You can’t blame him; you’d do the same thing.  If he ruined a date like that, stomped all over possible potential and threw it away without even considering your feelings involved, you’d be out for blood.

You sort of needed to apologize, and needed to apologize soon. 

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle calls out from the couch. It captures your attention just in time to look over and watch as Eddie enters the room, his back facing you, his shoulders slack beneath his leather jacket. 

He’s relaxed. You’re immediately sure that he doesn’t know you’re here yet. 

“Hey, man,” he greets with a gravelly voice, an edge of fatigue to it you’re familiar with. It’s the kind of tiredness that follows long weeks, as you two had spoken about that first night. For a second, you wonder if he’s still having those. And if he is, how often they happen, if he ever comes home from them and thinks about that night, if he has anyone to call when it’s late and they haunt him.

You know you don’t. Neither Steve nor Robin are ever awake that late, or at least don’t answer the phone at that time of day, and you don’t feel close enough with the rest of the group to burden them like that.

There had been a time where you would wonder if Eddie could have become that person, if the type of conversation you two had at the bar the first night could ever translate over phone lines. But that time had been early on, and was long dead. It laid in an unmarked grave with all your other ponderings of what a friendship with Eddie might look like. 

“We can keep you two apart,” Robin whispers, or at least tries to whisper. She’s loud, “He said he had work and wouldn’t make it. We… We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.” 

Oh. 

Oh, what a knock to your pride. Robin means nothing harmful of the words, they should be neutral and just an explanation offered to you. But your mind takes them in its grasp and runs, runs, runs. 

“We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.” 

You’re the backup plan. You see it now, and it sucks, but you press your lips into a cellophane smile that Robin can’t see through in her flurry to distract you with an offering of you two plus Steve having another round of drinks. You decide to take a straight shot of the nearest bottle of vodka, swallowing it down to drown your already sinking heart. You fake laugh when Steve tells bad jokes, you make up lies about your dates of the last few weeks, deciding you no longer care if you add in more details to look less pathetic. 

You’re the backup plan. So you’re sure they won’t notice when you spin a new version of yourself.

This version of you that spews from your lips has gotten lucky more times in the last month than you have in the last year. This version of you is always the one having the last say in conversations, the one leaving men on read rather than the tables being flipped as they were in reality. 

Robin says nothing, even when she notices some of the things you say not aligning with what you’d told her earlier that week.  She only side-eyes you as Steve drinks in every detail, only disrupting to suggest another shot. 

At some point, she gets too drunk to side-eye you. 

“Fuck,” Steve sighs, throwing his head back as he glances out to his living room, where Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, and Eddie have taken to sitting in an oblong circle around on his and Robin’s furniture, “I need some fresh air. Anyone else?” 

“Me,” Robin responds so quickly, you would have made fun of her if you didn’t notice the sickly shade of green creeping up on her. 

Steve looks at you, raising an eyebrow, but you only shake your head. It makes the room threaten to spin. Maybe, just maybe, you should have slowed your roll with the vodka shots. Maybe.

“I’ll stay in here, hold down the fort,” you promise, letting your eyes fall shut before you inhale deeply through your nose, exhaling softly through parted lips. 

No way. You hadn’t drunk nearly enough tonight to excuse getting sick as Robin was seemingly about to. 

Robin and Steve leave you be as you compose yourself. You think you hear them extend the offer to everyone in the living room, but you can’t make out who agrees to go and who stays. But as you listen to all the footsteps making their way out the front door, Steve calling out that they’d be back soon, you start to become convinced you’ll open your eyes to an empty apartment. 

You open them to an empty kitchen. So far, so good.

But then a voice clears their throat from the living room, just as you pull your phone out of your pocket. You open it to find the cursed dating app still open, your messages with the bartender still staring you back in your face. The bartender you thought you’d hit it off with. The bartender that had stood you up the night before. 

Fuck him, you think bitterly as you turn to find Eddie entering the kitchen. Because of course, given your luck, Eddie was the only one who stayed back. 

“Those apps fucking suck,” Eddie notes, using the neck of his beer bottle to gesture in the general direction of your phone. 

You look between him and the lit up screen for a moment, finding half the mind to click out of the private messages, “You’ve used them in the past?” 

“Nope.”

You wait for a second, giving him the chance to elaborate. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, he’s Eddie. If he explained himself to you, that would just be too easy. 

“Okay,” you sigh, squinting at the page and past the vodka, trying to fumble your way back onto the screen that would show you eligible bachelors in your area, letting you swipe and judge them by solely looks as if they weren’t actual people on the other side of the phone. As if they weren’t more than a reservoir of attention at your fingertips. 

Maybe that had been your mistake with the bartender – you let him become a real person to you.

“Why are you even still on them? I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.” 

It’s something in the way he says it. One moment, you’re looking down, ignoring him. The next, you can’t help but lift your head in shock. The words all felt sharpened and poised for a kill, ready for an attack you hadn’t expected so early on in the night. 

“I-” you don’t know how to defend yourself. You don’t know whether to stick by the lies you’ve told tonight, or to be concerned with who was telling Eddie about your love life, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.”

Eddie grins and leans on a counter across from you, “You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the body count you’ve got there, player.” 

You’re drunk. You tell yourself that’s why you take his words straight to heart – you’re drunk, and therefore, you’re sensitive. 

“You’re bluffing,” you snap, “You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.” 

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying,” you spit finally, crossing your arms defensively. Your emotions were rising too high, too quickly, and you blame the vodka. You blame the vodka and you blame the drink Steve had made you. You blame the bartender who stood you up. And most importantly, you blame Eddie. 

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, as if he expects you to shrink in cowardice when he stands up straight and takes several steps across the kitchen to be closer to you, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up. Everyone strikes ou-”

“I’m pathetic?” you scoff and interrupt him, not even paying any attention to where he was going. The tips of your ears are starting to flame with a red tinge, “Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.” 

“I did!”

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.” 

He freezes up entirely, grin faltering before your eyes, “How do you know that?” 

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” you roll your eyes at the cracks in his composure, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” Eddie grumbles, reserving himself back to his side of the kitchen. If someone came in and squinted closely, they’d find that imaginary boundary between the two of you, an invisible line that would not be crossed. Not here, not tonight. You wouldn’t touch Eddie Munson with a twelve-foot pole if you could help it. 

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.” 

You can see his agitation spreading like wildfire across his face, in the tick of his jaw and the twitch of his eyes. You can practically see the words that linger on his tongue as he bites down on it – it is your fault. 

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice goes monotonous as he crosses his arms, and the muscles strain against his shirt. His leather jacket has long been discarded, probably thrown over the back of the couch or a chair in the living room. 

You mirror him, crossing your arms, letting the screen of your phone press into your side, “I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment,” his eyebrows furrow and you consider the consequences of chucking your phone at him. 

Your irritation, your own agitation, is all bubbling beneath your skin. If it wasn’t for the vodka mingling with it, you would have been squirming from the discomfort. Usually, he doesn’t get to you. Normally, his off-handed comments come with a sting that can quickly fade. 

None of the jabs are fading tonight. They only seem to linger. Because he’s right, and you hate that he’s right. 

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going?” you uncross your arms, waving your hands wildly into the empty air between you and Eddie, “We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?” 

Eddie swallows hard, and you can watch the words wash over him, but you’re unsure of which of your drunken slurs specifically got to him. You weren’t wrong in any of your statements, you weren’t outlandish in either of your guesses. But your words have frozen him up all the same and you aren’t sure why. 

“You’re right,” when he physically melts, the deathly chill remains in his voice, “We aren’t friends. But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?” 

It’s in the way he says it, confirms it. 

We aren’t friends.

He hisses it out as if it were a painful reminder, as if saying those words burn him eternally. He says them as if they are capable of sending ice through his veins and bones alike. 

You know why he froze now, and it’s too late. 

“Well-” you pause, unsure of how exactly to respond. You’ll be having a talk with Robin, surely. But technically, Nancy was your friend, right? Surely, she was allowed to know the drama of your love life, wasn’t she? “You say that as if Nancy and I aren't friends.” 

“Are you?” he tilts his head tauntingly, as if he knows something you don’t. 

“We… are.” 

He catches the hesitation; he runs with it. He finds the handle of the knife you’d tried to keep so hidden, and he twists as hard as he can.

“Would Nancy agree if we asked her?” he hums, as if he were seriously contemplating this, as if it were a mediocre debate rather than a question of if you had friends or not, “Do you even have her on Instagram?”

“You, her supposed best friend, don’t have her on Instagram.” 

“Because I don’t have Instagram, full stop.” 

“Instagram isn’t the normal gauge of friendship,” you defend yourself, “Some people can have thousands of followers and no friends.” 

You don’t have Nancy on Instagram. You don’t follow her, she doesn’t follow you. The most she’s acknowledged your presence on the app was tagging you in a photo on a night out once. 

“It’s not about follower count,” Eddie shrugs, “It’s about mutual followings. That’s how Hollywood dictates whether celebrity couples are still together these days, yeah? If they follow each other. If you’re friends, you’d follow each other.” 

The vodka makes you bold. Bold enough to mutter out, “Oh, fuck you,” in response to Eddie’s prodding. 

“Wait, I-” you watch an unfamiliar emotion pass over Eddie’s face, something kin to regret. But his words are already out in the air, he’s already twisted the knife in your gut fully. He’s already spilled your blood in the middle of Steve’s kitchen, with no one around to witness it. He did it for himself – he did it for his own pleasure, his own enjoyment.

He enjoys hurting you. 

“Save it,” you mutter, slowly deflating as you turn your back to him, facing the counter to grab your drink to nurse your wounds. 

If you looked close enough in the corner of the room, you would have seen the shovel you should have used to bury away your hope of a friendship with Eddie. You should have piled the dirt over the casket, should have put 6 feet of soil and earth and worms between you and that fruitless yearning. 

But you didn’t. He hadn’t taken it quite far enough yet. 

Yet. 

But then he had to cross that invisible barrier. He just had to walk across the kitchen, come up behind you, and not mind his own business. He just had to look over your shoulder just as you opened the bartender’s profile again, if for nothing else than to further hurt yourself for the night.

You were so caught up in your own disappointment, you never saw the flash of recognition that crossed Eddie’s face. Only the anger that followed.

—

HOUR FOURTEEN - 5:00 AM 

You don’t bother with putting pants back on, only Eddie’s sweatshirt. At this point, pants were just beginning to feel like a nuisance when it came to the two of you. A nicetie, as one might put it.

What were the points of niceties with him if he could never hate you? 

You have the entire five minutes he spends in the bathroom to try and compose yourself. To try and desperately ruminate through these feelings and detach them from everything that was transpiring. The emotions didn’t belong here, there weren’t twists of guilt and sorrow of loss involved for Eddie when he was fucking you. 

So why is that all you could feel right now? 

He could never hate you, but he had spent the last year doing exactly that, hadn’t he? 

“Hey,” he reappears in the entryway of the kitchen with the worst possible timing, right in the eye of the storm that had begun to cloud over your mind. He holds up a pack of cigarettes you can only assume he’d snagged from his room, “I’m, uh- I was gonna grab a smoke out on the balcony. Join me?” 

There’s something of desperation in the way he asks you. All the words are casual, but his tone is an undermining plea; please say yes, please join me, please let me in. He knows something’s wrong, and he’s not just turning a blind eye and ignoring it this time. 

You stare at the pack of Marlboro Reds for a few seconds before shrugging, “Sure.” 

It’s certainly not as enthusiastic as you’re sure he was hoping for, but he smiles at the small victory nonetheless.

The first thing you notice about his balcony, aside from the clustered furniture, is the view. You’ve never thought your city to be very charming, always looking at it from a pedestrian’s view or through the lens of a tired, crabby college student embarking on another late night. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d step foot on a higher floor of a building like Eddie’s, one just tall enough to see over the rooftops of most of the mundane buildings, one that could peer right over the skyline and show a new dawn breaking. It’s a flourish of pink, orange, and violet, each shade stealing away another breath. The sun is just barely yawning over the horizon, just finally awakening. 

God, you’re going to regret not actually sleeping during this time.

“What’s got you scowling?” Eddie mumbles the question out around a cigarette, pausing with his lighter in midair.

You turn your head, and- just like that, all the anger and confusion melts away. He’s painted in the same shades of the sunrise, in a golden light that almost seems to be emitted from him rather than the waking sun. He is all soft edges and tired eye bags, a stubble that you can imagine the itch of against your palm if you were to reach out a hand to hold his face. If you were to kiss him right now, you fear he might dissolve all over your tongue, leaving nothing but his sweetness behind to remind you it was all real. 

It’s real. Even if it doesn’t make sense with what you guys projected before tonight, even if it doesn’t align with how your lives will continue on, tonight was real. You were here, he was here, and what happened…. Simply happened. 

I could never hate you. 

You get it now. Because in this lighting, with a soft breeze tugging your hair and mind alike, you know you feel the same way about him. And you know it contradicts all you have shown him in the past. 

You could never hate him. He could never hate you. It’s unfortunate that that’s what you’d been calling it before tonight – hate. 

“It’s going to really suck,” you breathe out half a sentence. Two endings before you: letting this night go or, “Not sleeping for a full twenty four hours.” 

You don’t know how he does it, how he looks at you like he knows you had something else to say. But he gives you those eyes, and they almost elicit the truth from you. 

Almost. 

He throws his head back in laughter, and the pinks and purples and all the fights wasted are now trailing down his neck, “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” 

He’s much better at pretending than you are. You know that now. 

“Seriously,” you turn and walk to the railing, crossing your arms against the metal grate before he joins you at your side, “I’ll probably ditch my classes on Monday. I’ll have to sleep twenty four hours straight to even the score.” 

“God, I wish I could fuck off for Monday,” Eddie groans. He’s throwing his head back again, and you can’t help but wish you could replace the golden rays with your lips. You wish your warmth could sink beneath his skin like the sun’s does. 

“You can’t?” your voice cracks with the question as he finally lights the cigarette between his lips. 

He takes a long drag, shaking his head with the exhale of smoke, “Nope. I work Mondays at the shop.”

“The shop?”

“Myo’s,” the way his lips curl around the filter of his cigarette as he fights his grin burns a hole in the middle of your chest. Burning and erupting, yearning and longing, ignored and buried, “The auto shop on Main street.” 

You know by the way he looks at you that the name should ring a bell, but considering you don’t own a car, you don’t have the slightest clue what his job is, “Oh, so you’re a mechanic?” 

“I- Yeah,” he nods slowly, “Yeah, I’m a mechanic,” he pauses and you can see that he has more to say, it just takes him a moment. He looks off the balcony, shifts his weight between his two feet, takes another drag of nicotine. When he finally gathers his thoughts, you’re patient and waiting, biting back a small smile the moment he whips his face towards you, “Have we seriously never talked about that before? I swear I’ve told you I’m a mechanic.”

“Nope, seriously. Never.”

“There’s no fuckin’ way.”

“There absolutely is a way,” you laugh, letting your head fall backwards and not catching the way his gaze falls on you. The sunrise paints you in just as beautiful of a lighting as it had him. If someone asked you, you’d say that you doubt he noticed, but he did. He noticed. He always noticed, “Usually, by now, we’d be at each other’s throats.” 

“We sort of were,” he shrugs, eyes still glued to how your collarbone peaks out from beneath his sweatshirt, “Surprised we didn’t leave more hickies.” 

The topic you’d been avoiding. The topic he seemed indifferent about. 

I could never hate you. 

You decide to put his words to the test.

“Are we going to talk about it?” you ask, looking down now and picking at flakes along the metal railing, still not noticing him noticing you, “About…. what we just did?” 

“Are you always this straight to the point?” he chuckles nervously. In your peripherals, you catch the way he leans and mirrors you, side by side on the railing. His light cigarette hung loosely between indifferent fingers. Indifference, indifference, indifference. 

If you’d just look at him, you’d see anything but indifference written across his face. 

“Only when it matters,” you reply, breathing in his secondhand smoke, “Only when it’s important.”

His pinky is within reach of yours once more, just like at the parking garage. Even after feeling the entire expanse of his bare skin against yours, you still crave more – you crave for the intimacy that comes from hooking pinkies as grown adults, from knuckles curling into each other like hinges of a door of possibility. 

You don’t see the way he swallows hard, or how he nods subtly to himself before he says, “Alright. Let’s talk about it.” 

Those words make you look at him quickly, taken back and not expecting for him to give so easily. If you had noticed him noticing you, it would have been the expected reaction; if you’d seen the way his eyes traced over the pink and orange shadows of your features, you’d know he can’t really say no to you. Not anymore. 

“Yeah?” you only ask for the confirmation because you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He won’t let it. He holds it tightly, just nodding, “Yeah. I… You deserve my honesty.” 

You deserve my honesty. 

I could never hate you. 

“I’m starting to get a bad feeling of deja vu, Eddie. We don’t have to do honesty if you don’t want to-”

“Ask me anything. Right here, right now. I’ll answer with the full truth.” 

You flashback to hours before, when he’d offered his honesty this willingly and you’d only thrown it back in his face. But right now isn’t that moment, the two of you aren’t in the heat of an argument, there isn’t an impending doom on the horizon and the weight of the night no longer rests on either of your shoulders.

You don’t care as much about why he hates you now, or what he meant by never hating you to begin with. You don’t care much about the porn magazines and you don’t care what changed that first night. 

They’re all petty details that have had too long to gather dust. 

You do care about his job, you do care to know why he chose to fix cars. You do care about if he still takes night classes, and if yes, which ones. You care to know his favorite color and you care to know how he takes his coffee in the morning. Maybe you even care to know if he has a favorite coffee shop. 

You care to know all the new petty details you’d never uncovered about him. Miniscule bits and pieces of him you crave to hold in your hands, if only just for tonight- or today, at this point. 

But you need a baseline question. Something that won’t throw him off, but really doesn’t twist around your heart as severely as the others. Something that does neither damage nor nurture to the vines and blooms still occupying your chest. 

You suddenly remember a small detail that had been revealed to you by a third party tonight, “Okay, um, well…” you ponder on phrasing, and Eddie edges ever so closer to you, “At that bar we went to tonight, the bartender – Frank – mentioned how you’d been going there for about six months.” 

Eddie pales, but he nods nonetheless. Maybe the question is more loaded than you’d anticipated. 

“I guess... I…” you continue to stumble over your words and it only leaves Eddie more time to panic, “I’m just curious why you started going? Yeah, yeah. That’s… that’s my question,” you tilt your chin up, try to be seem more confident in your question. 

Even in his panic and sudden blanching, Eddie looks ready to laugh at you as his eyebrows scrunch. Somewhere between the wrinkles, you swear you could find something like affection, “That’s your question? Why did I start going to a bar that’s conveniently close to my apartment?” 

Maybe it is a good baseline question. Maybe he was just nervous from the other possible questions you could have asked about your time spent together at the bar. 

“That’s my question,” you confirm. 

The color isn’t returning to Eddie. His hand shakes when he brings his cigarette to his lips. His breath is evidently shaky on the exhale as the smoke puffs out unevenly. 

It’s not a good baseline question. 

“I…” he won’t meet your gaze, and all your gut can do is twist, twist, twist in anticipation, “I got kicked out of my last bar I was a regular at.” 

“Got kicked out? Why?” 

It’s ripping the bandaid off the wound of honesty, and neither of you even realize it. Neither of you notice the blood of your history catching up to you. 

Eddie sighs and rolls his shoulders before looking at you, “I got into a fight.” 

Your twisted gut stills. A fight? Why is he freaking out so evidently over a fight? Does he think you’ll judge him that harshly? 

“A fight?” you echo your thoughts with a soft laugh into the morning air, “You… Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing? Jesus, did you go to jail that night? That would suck, but… Eddie, I won’t judg-”

“I didn’t go to jail,” he interrupts, “I mean, they should have called the cops on me, but they didn’t. They gave me a second option of leaving immediately, and being banned for life, effective the moment I stepped out of the building that night. I took the ban.” 

“Well,” you relax your shoulders, looking over at the rising sun, “That’s nice of them, I guess, right? I’m sure whatever mean drunk swung their fist at you deserved to get their ass handed to them-”

Eddie interrupts you with a soft utterance of your name, making you look back to his hues of gold instead of the sky’s, “I swung first.” 

Oh. Maybe that’s why he still looks so wrecked with nerves. Maybe he thinks that’s the piece you’ll judge him on – it has to be the reason you can see sweat gathering along his eyebrow, just beneath his bangs. “Then I’m sure whoever it was deserved it? I-”

“He did,” he interrupts one final time. You’re about to finally snap at you, telling him to just let you speak, to just accept that you weren’t going to judge him over some bar brawl, when he drops the final bomb of an answer. Here is the honesty, you both realize at the same time, as his words slice through you, “It was about you. I got banned because of you.” 

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