#i don’t want to be in the middle of a case and then machinations and deductions starts playing and i’m like “oh is that my phone”

[moutainrusing]

love letters

786 words, @pandalilymicrofics

“Barty, I swear on my dad’s dead corpse, if you carry on simping over my brother, I will stab this pencil through your eye,” Pandora threatened, emphatically raising the fist clenched around her pencil.

“But Evan—”

“Do not. Say his name. Anymore,” Pandora shook the pencil, and Barty sighed wistfully. Fed up with this, Pandora suggested, “Why don’t you write him a love letter?”

“A love letter?” Barty pulled a face. “Ew?”

“How is a love letter more disgusting to you than the way you wax poetic about Evan out loud, to me?” Pandora bared her teeth in frustration. “It’s expressing the exact same thing that you already do in paper format and sending it to the actual recipient, instead of his sibling. Because in case you’ve forgotten, I’m related to Evan, and I don’t want to hear what you think about his mouth!”

Barty rolled his eyes, as if what Pandora was saying made no sense at all. “If I write this… love letter… you must give me something in return. After all, friendship is a business transaction.”

Pandora rolled her eyes. Sometimes, Barty made no sense at all.

Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Barty finally decided, “I’ll write him love letters instead of gushing to you all the time if you buy me lunch everyday.”

“Deal,” Pandora shook his hand. She also poked her pencil into his palm while doing so. The jury would be forever out on whether or not that was purposeful.

- - -

Dear the love of my life (Pandora: “Why are you calling him the love of your life?” Barty: “‘Cause this is a love letter? You basically told me to do that?”)

I am in love with you. (Pandora: “That’s unnecessary. It was stated in the first line.” Barty: “Was it though? Do you think your brother’s smart enough to understand if I don’t clarify?” Pandora: “…You make a good point.”)

Love from the love of your life (Pandora: “You’ve written ‘love’ way too many times.” Barty: “It’s a love letter!”)

- - -

“Now slip it through his locker,” Pandora advised.

“Where’s his locker?”

She shrugged, “Dunno.”

“You don’t know where your brother’s locker is?” Barty asked incredulously.

Haughtily, Pandora sniffed, “Stop acting like it’s an expectation of sibling relationships to know everything about each other.”

“It kinda is—”

“I think that’s his locker,” Pandora interrupted, pointing to a locker graffitied with ‘EVANS’ in bright red capital letters. Again, she sniffed disdainfully, “He’s the type to graffiti his locker. And miss out the apostrophe in Evan’s. It’s probably Evan’s locker,” she nodded. “It’s been branded Evan’s at least. Without the apostrophe. ‘Cause he’s a degenerate vandal.”

Bary side-eyed her, “I’ll never understand sibling rivalry…” He slid the folded paper through the frame, before the two of them shoved each other past the crowd of students, positioning themselves behind a vending machine to watch Evan’s supposed locker for any action.

But instead of Evan, a person who Pandora recognised very well, with the green eyes she’d dream about and the red hair she’d see while gazing at the person’s back during class, walked up to the locker. Oh. Evans. Lily Evans.

Suddenly, vandalism seemed very cool. And the graffiti was actually grammatically correct, so Pandora could let it slide. Plus, red was an ingenious colour choice, Lily’s taste was exquisite, Pandora was mesmerised by the sheer talent of it, the way the letters were perfectly positioned to spell out the surname of the love of her life. When Lily stood in front of her locker, rivulets of her red hair cascaded beside the graffiti, creating a remarkable gradient, perfectly blending orange into red like the sunset over a beach in the hot, humid summer—

Barty nudged her, probably to say that the mission had been a failure, except Pandora wasn’t really concentrating, so she stumbled out from behind the vending machine, winding up in the middle of the corridor and hovering there aimlessly.

Having read the letter, Lily looked around curiously, and Pandora was just there, staring at her. Eventually, Lily’s eyes landed on Pandora like darts pinning a dartboard, rendering her frozen in place, just looking at each other for an extended period of time, seconds which had slowed to hours, too long, this was dumb, Pandora should move, what was she doing? Then Lily smiled at her, hands fiddling with the corner of the letter.

She made her way towards Pandora, and they were both standing in the middle of the corridor, and Pandora’s heart was a drum beating inside her throat, reverberating through her body, echoing within her bones, loud, aggressive, but it calmed to the sound of waves in a conch shell when Lily said quietly, “Hi, love of my life.”

[potatoattorney]

I was about to try to set my phone ringtone to something from the TGAA soundtrack

And then I realized that is probably Not a great idea while I’m still playing through the game

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

meet the in-laws | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

“would-would you like to meet my mom?” spencer stopped in the middle of your hotel room, he shoved his hands nervously into his khaki’s pockets.

you slowly set a pair of folded clothes into your duffle bag, a slightly surprised expression on your face. “i- i’d love to. would she be comfortable with an unfamiliar face?” your fingers twisted around each other, “i don’t want you to force this since we’re dating. only if you’re okay with this.”

spencer took four long strides closer, his fingers delicate near your wrist. “she already knows about you. i’ve- i’ve been mentioning you to her after our first encounter, she’s the one insisting to meet you on her good days.” he seemed embarrassed, shy at the slipped information.

you felt yourself brighten, “really? i’m already in her good graces!” joking just a bit, but relieved to know that spencer hasn’t kept you hidden from her.

spencer rolled his lips, “so would you like to join me for a visit?” perking up at the prospect. you nodded, “absolutely.”

luckily since your finished case was in las vegas and the team was given an extra layover day, it was the perfect opportunity to finally meet your boyfriend’s mom. you texted hotch that you and spencer were going out together in case he needed either of you to contact, everyone else seemed to head for the slot machines or tables.

the drive was about thirty minutes. it felt weird to see spencer behind the wheel, but it was a refreshing sight to behold. he kept his hands safely at ten and two, always used his blinkers, and he only went about five miles over the speed limit. but many cars sped past him, so he was still probably driving at the speed of an elder.

“she’ll probably be in the community room at this time. she enjoys doing sudoku and crosswords.” he linked a hand with yours and walked through the building with ease. many of the nurses and doctors waving, saying a quick hello as you both passed.

standing at the threshold you took notice of the scattered people filling the brightened space. “there she is,” spencer tugged you along as he walked more to the back were a couch sat. a women with short blonde hair had her head bent as her lips moved while looking at her book.

spencer pulled up a chair and let you sit first then dragged another beside you. “hey mom. it’s me, it’s spencer.” his mom looked up, “oh crash, hi honey.” then her eyes moved to you, “and who’s this lovely lady?”

“mom this is y/n. the girl i always mention, she’s my girlfriend.” you stretched a hand out, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, ms. reid.”

she took your hand gently, “call me diana, hon. is my boy treating you well?” raising a brow spencer’s way.

you couldn’t help the slight laugh, you looked over to him with a delicate smile, “raising the bar everyday. and i’m glad he chooses to put up with me.” giving his knee a loving squeeze.

diana hummed, “so when do i plan to hear about some grandbabies?” you heard spencer give a choking noise and your neck instantly warmed. “we’ve only been dating a month, mom.”

she shrugged, “oh, i can tell this will last. she’s all you can talk about in your letters.” and threw a wink at you. you had a feeling she’ll be right in the end.

[604to647]

Photocopies

2.2K / Javier Peña x fem!reader

Summary: You catch Javi off guard in the embassy photocopy room.

Warnings: Angst (sorry!), longing, some hurt (no comfort). Previous relationship, mention of past infidelity (or is it??). Mainly Javi's POV. Nicknames as usual (Pretty bird, baby).

A/N: This is a direct follow-up to Birthday Present, taking place S1/S2 Narcos, ~2 months after reader’s birthday; I don't think you need to read it but it gives some context. I'm sorry, there is no HEA for these two dummies yet, this is just another little one shot (not quite ready to commit to writing another long series!), but I hope those of you who remember them from Birthday Present will still enjoy seeing them again 🥹🥰

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Tagging @milla-frenchy who knows why 🥹😘

Mierda. 

Javier can see the consecutive flashes of the photocopier’s green scan light accompanied by the hum of the machine in repetitive use as he walks down the hall towards the U.S. Embassy’s main floor copier room.  It sounds like whoever’s occupying the photocopier is in the middle of a big job – he sighs with an air of unjustified frustration.  Such would be his luck when he’s already running late for his meeting with the CIA attaché. 

He rounds into the room chest first, ready to barrel over whichever unfortunate intern stands, however unintentionally, between DEA Agent Javier Pena and something he needs to hopefully get ahead of Escobar, when he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

It’s you.  You, with a thoughtful look on your face as you adorably chew your bottom lip while counting the sheets in your hand, surrounded by neat piles of paper covering every available flat surface in the copier room.

Mierda. 

Still preoccupied by your collating project, you haven’t looked up to notice that you’re no longer alone in the small, stifling room – out of consideration or cowardice, but most likely both, Javier loathes to disturb you.  He hasn’t spoken to you in nearly four months - he’ll be damned if the first time he does so causes you inconvenience.  He’s already done so much worse to you. 

Fuck it - those spooks can make do with one copy of his Satellite Repositioning request.  If the CIA needs a second copy so badly, let them come down and make it themselves, he convinces himself.  Javier steps back silently, slowly backing out of the room. 

“How many copies do you need?”

Stunned by the sweet lilt of your voice, Javier remains motionless.  He suspects that you don’t know it’s him, but rather you had felt another person’s presence in the room and your considerate nature simply offered what you intuitively knew was needed.  But to his surprise, your eyes meet his directly when he looks up; he searches them for any sign of distaste or distain now that you recognize him as your intruder, but sees nothing except sincerity.  Your hand is already outstretched, waiting for his form.

He should leave.  Say he changed his mind about needing copies.  Say he got lost in this building that he’s worked in for years.  Say something.

“Don’t want to interrupt you.  I’ll come back.”

You throw an easy, encouraging smile his way and wave your still reaching hand dismissively in graceful sweeps that only serve to remind Javier of how effortlessly charming you are; your voice an enchanting song with its lightness, “I’m going to be forever.  Come on, gimme.”  You wiggle your fingers playfully, beckoning Javier to give over his paper - not knowing you also call for his heart with this enticing gesture.

He can refuse you nothing, though you could never know that, and hands over his single sheet readily, “Just one please.”

You take his form and titter to yourself as you diligently set aside the stack you were organizing, careful not to lose your place before laying his paper face down on the glass to copy, “I’ll make you two, just in case.”

Though the sound of the copy machine whirling to life fills the room, the silence between the two people in it somehow rings louder.  Javier looks around awkwardly, his eyes taking in the goliath of paperwork that you were in the middle of taming – should he apologize for interrupting?  No, it would likely ring hollow to your ears; he’s committed worse transgressions for which he still owes you an apology.  But the lump in his throat compels him to engage you; he’s a man starved, ready to beg for any meager scraps of attention you’re willing to throw his way.

“I thought you had a secretary to do all this admin for you – is Renee away?”

You laugh and the sound chimes in Javier’s ear like a chorus of cathedral bells; he never thought he’d have the honour of drawing such music from you again.  “No, she’s here.  But when it’s big booklets for interdepartmental meetings, I just like to do it myself.”

Right - Javier knows this about you.  You take such prodigious care with everything, of everyone.  Any fool at the embassy, and there were many, could see you’re a powerhouse, work ethic and dedication unmatched, and completely deserving of the respect and praise you reap – he’s always been proud of you.

Handing him his two copies and original, you toss Javier another soft smile before turning back to your task.  Whatever this interlude was, whatever grace granted him a few moments of cordiality with you is gone now, and Javier takes the papers from you with a genuine, but melancholy, “Thanks.”  He heads out of the room, feeling somehow happier and yet just as lost as he has been these past few months.

“Javi?”

He’s stopped again, this time not just by your melodic voice, but the song of his shortened name on your lips – his own heart longs to sing back a response in duet.  Turning, he finds you already looking at him, the irises of your knowing eyes swirling with tenderness, 

“Thank you for my birthday present.”

How did you know?  Javier had been so confident in the stealth of his actions, he’s silence by the revelation that you know he left a gift on your desk two months ago.

“I wear them all the time,” you turn your elegant neck slightly to show Javi the silver hair clips, each adorned with a small, delicate bird, tucked prettily behind your ear.

He manages to choke out a confession, “I know.” 

He does know.  Like a lovesick magpie, Javi’s heart would leap every time he caught the flash of silver in your hair at the embassy: during the meetings you expertly lead that he had the privilege of attending, via quick glimpses of you as you hurried towards the breakroom with your colleagues for a much-needed cup of coffee, when he stole longing glances at you from the DEA’s offices down the hall from the windows that ran alongside your desk in Treasury.  Each time you wore them, it gave Javi a surge a pride (and some relief) to know that amidst all the pain he had caused, he could still bring you some joy.

You’re looking at him now, eyes shiny and full of emotion, “I love them – they’re so beautiful.  Thank you for having thought of me.”

Javi’s body carries him across the small room and into your waiting arms of its own accord. All the strength he strains to wield on a daily basis in order to stay away from you evaporating under that tender gaze he thought had been forever lost to him.

He holds you close but not too tight, unable to tear his eyes from the sweetness of your expression.  How could you still look at him with anything other than disappointment, hate?  Despite what he did, you remain good.  Kind.  Feeling.  You wash over him like an inevitable wave and Javi wants more than anything to drown in you again.

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Baby.

Drinking in his soft utterance of the endearment, you earnestly study the man who was once yours.  Javi looks apprehensive and guarded, like he can’t quite settle into the tenderness of this moment – expecting at any second for you to shove him away, curse him.  Your heart aches to witness his anxiety – he’s still the man you knew, believed in: one whose bravado and tough exterior harbours a sensitive and deeply feeling heart, one who never thinks he deserves good things even when he extends himself for the sake of others.  You take Javi’s face into your hands, feeling the flex of his strong jaw beneath your palms as he inhales and swallows deeply at the loving gesture, still convinced this unexpected peace will be ripped from him.

“Do you miss me, Javi?”

How can he possibly answer but truthfully? Even if you weren’t looking at him so tenderly and with such vulnerability, Javi’s never been able to hide from you, lie to you. Insinuate falsities, yes. Mislead, perhaps. But outright lying? Never. How could the moon ever lie to the sun?

“Yes, pretty bird. Every day,” Javi closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours, sealing in the truth of his words.

He’s being selfish.  It’s selfish to want to pull out the knife that’s lodged permanently in his chest; the one he placed there himself when he broke your heart, to stab and remind him with every breath he takes of what he’s lost.  What he’s broken.

If he could remove the blade for even a moment, then for that moment he can be your Javi again.  The one you trusted to take care of your heart.  The one who was ever grateful that an angel like you saw something in him, something he thought had long been snuffed out by the savagery of the Columbian sicarios and the cruelty of Escobar.  The Javi you had patiently nurtured back to life with your compassion and gentle touch.  The one whose vow of love you never questioned; he hadn't thought himself capable of such devotion, but you had easily unlocked it from within him with your own.

Selfishness wins today.  Javi removes the knife and lets himself be that man again with a tentative press of his lips to yours.  Immediately, he’s overtaken by the honey of your kiss – every brush of your pretty pout reminds him of all his favourite kisses with you: soft, secret kisses in hidden corners at the office; hard and heavy make outs outside the embassy walls away from prying eyes; tender kisses of promises intended to be kept while on dates or just laying in bed; possessive, dangerous kisses used to muffle moans of pleasure not meant for the ears of any other; hungry and urgent kisses heralding toe-curling, earthshattering orgasms; and sweet kisses of affirmation after every declaration of I love you.

Javi kisses you to make up for every single kiss he’s missed since he kissed you last.  He kisses you like he has the forever with you he threw away so cruelly all those month ago.  He tightens his arms around you as you melt into his kiss, momentarily forgetting how to let you go again.  Your soft whimper of surrender into his mouth jolts him back to reality.  He doesn’t have forever with you.  You aren’t his, and you shouldn’t be his.  He’s been warned.

It’s time to put the knife back in and Javier knows it won’t just be his own heart he wounds when he does so.

“Baby, we can’t.”

“Javi…” The way you say his name now has none of the harmony that invited him in earlier; this is a plea.

“Pretty bird, I’m no good for you.  Look at you – you’re perfect and you have everything going for you.  Everything you are is beyond my wildest dreams – you’re destined for the kind of future that has no place in it for a guy like me.  You deserve someone who can give you the best things in life.  You deserve someone better than me.”

You’re shaking your head, ready to argue and Javier thinks, no – he knows you would prevail.  He’s come over to your side of every argument the two of you ever had - won over by your intelligence, your passion, or simply for the joy it brought him to give you anything you wanted.  He has to put a stop to this before your eloquence and kindness can disarm him, so he pushes the knife in further, “You deserve someone who can be loyal to you.”

Javier can physically feel the flow of air that rushes in to fill the space created between the two of you as you shrink away from him.

It’s as if he can see the cinema in your eyes replaying that horrible scene from four months earlier when you caught him bare chested and pants unbuttoned, with a half naked Vanessa on his couch.  And just like that, the ache of his betrayal is renewed and your hurt rolls off your frame in lines so thick Javier thinks he might be able to pluck them out of the air with his fingers.

He twists the knife, even though it kills him to do so, “I never got the chance to apologize for that. I’m sorry.”

You nod, otherwise unmoving - stilled by that old pain you thought you had buried dead threating to crawl up your tightening throat.

Javi’s shoulders hunch, drooping with a defeat of his own making, “Thank you for the copies.”

“You’re welcome, Agent.”

Agent.

And just like that he’s Agent again.  Not baby, Javi, or even Javier.  Just Agent.

This third time he goes to leave the copier room you don’t stop him and Javier is thankful; unable to trust himself should he look back at you, he doesn’t – Agent Pena sets his face to a grim scowl and stalks down the hallway away from the best thing that ever happened to him.  Grateful that you had the forethought to give him an extra copy of his form, Javier discards the top sheet before going into his meeting – it’s completely unusable: the words on the page blotted and blurred from tears he didn’t have the strength to prevent from falling, the ruined, damp paper evidence of his failures.

[angelicpoison12]

walking w/ the eggs ღ

You help Alastor with getting rid of the eggs. Of course, more bonding is done rather than harm.

MFA, SFW, TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

Who would’ve thought some talkative, energetic, and annoying eggs could’ve brought you and Alastor closer?

— ✩ —

You finally finished hammering in the final nail to Charlie’s poster. It read, ‘Happy 1st Week, Sir Pentious’. Charlie was so bubbly and full of energy as she told Vaggie, “I’m so happy Sir Pentious decided to stay at the hotel!” You noticed she was so excited that she dragged out the ‘el’ in ‘hotel’, and it was really cute. That was just something Charlie often did, and you adored it. You kinda wished you could be as optimistic as her. “Uhm, just a few days ago, he was trying to blow up the hotel..” Vaggie cautiously reminded Charlie. Sir Pentious then walked by with a large machine; it looked like the combination of a canon ball and a flamethrower. Your eyes widened, and all you did was nudge Vaggie nervously, climbing down the ladder you were on. “Uhm, Sir Pentious, what’s that?” You asked nervously. “Ah! Hello, my fellow resssident! I call this ‘The Ssskin Flayer 1100’! It issss my newessst invention! I am looking forward to ssshooting the other ressidents!” “What?! Why?” Charlie asked, seeming confused. You noticed Sir Pentious press against his creation almost protectively as he nearly hissed under his breath, “Everyone is too nice! It musst be some sort of trick!” Vaggie then sighed as she said “Pentious, people are nice because they’re genuinely nice. Nobody wants to hurt you-“ Right before she could finish, one of Sir Pentious’s egg minions snapped a latch on his invention, causing a beamed hole to burn through the ceiling above us.

Everyone’s jaw seemed to drop, and Vaggie cried out, “UGH! What did I say?! What did I just say? No more eggs!” “Not my little egg boyss! They do my evil bidding for me!” Pentious shrieked, his arms wrapping around their bulbous bodies. “Do you want to stay here and redeem yourself?” Vaggie asked, her arms crossed. “Y.. Yesss..?” “Then no more eggs. And no more buying parts or making weapons.” Sir Pentious was so sad. You kinda felt bad for him, to be honest. He sobbed and wailed as he waved off his eggs, watching them walk away.

“I need to get rid of these things..” Vaggie moaned in annoyance. You perked up, quickly saying, “I’ll help!” “I know you want to help, Y/N, and I appreciate that.” Vaggie said with a sheepish grin. “But I won’t let you do this alone. You’re still a little new, and I don’t want anything happening to you.” “I’m strong! I can take it-“ “I mean.. I don’t want you getting mugged or something, Y/N. You’re smaller than us, I just want you to be okay.” You rolled your eyes and huffed playfully at that. The eggs followed you and Vaggie as you both walked to Alastor’s room.

Vaggie opened Alastor’s door. He was sitting at a fancy small round table, fork and knife in hands, cutting into a decaying deer. He was humming, twisting his fork in its innards and eating it. You were glad you had a somewhat strong stomach. Thankfully you couldn’t smell it for some reason, but the deer looked oddly lacking in color.

“Alastor!” Vaggie called to him. Alastor stopped, still widely smiling, fork full of grayish meat almost to his lips. “Do you mind? I’m in the middle of breakfast.” Alastor said calmly. Vaggie sighed irritatedly, the eggs behind you and her slapping each other and fighting like toddlers on a mini playground. “Pentious’s eggs are out of hand and I need you to get rid of them,” Vaggie told Alastor. He immediately stood up, his cane appearing out of nowhere, popping into his hand. “Oh! Well in that case, I’d be delighted to!” Alastor said, his smile wide-not in a genuinely happy way, but in a sinister way. Vaggie then calmly said, “.. Humanely.” “Hm. Well that’s a lot less fun; but, I guess I can take care of them on my outing today.” Alastor said in a chirp, walking past us. You followed behind Alastor, trying to keep up with him and his face pace in walking.

— ✩ —

The eggs were annoying as fuck. And not the subtle, soft annoyance; they were genuinely annoying. Like blisters on the back of your ankles after walking for a day on a hike.

“Oh boy! What’s the plan boss?”

“I like your suit!”

“What are the antlers for?”

“Can I touch your staff thing?”

“Are those your ears? Or is it your hair? I can’t tell!”

You noticed Alastor’s eye visibly twitched a little, and it made you have to refrain from giggling. It was adorable. Oddly enough, Alastor didn’t snap at the eggs. In fact, all he responded with was, “Follow in silence if you value your shell,” whilst tapping his staff against one of the egg’s shells kindly. Alastor walked with you, his hand accidentally brushing against yours. His skin visibly prickled. “Oh! I apologize, Y/N.” His speech was formal, yet hints of nervousness were in there. All you did was say quietly, “It’s fine, Al, really.”

Alastor couldn’t get rid of the eggs no matter what he did. And eventually, they were whining and moaning about being hungry. “You little creatures require food, too? Very well,” Alastor said tiredly, his voice in clear annoyance. We stopped at a small shop where it seemed to be a bakery. All of the little egg boys got a blueberry muffin, Alastor got an egg sandwich in spite of the situation, and you just settled for a smoothie. Everyone was at a round table like a tiny family almost. The egg minions wouldn’t stop fussing and slapping each other for each other’s muffins. You found it rather entertaining and amusing. Alastor just sat, smiling and humming.

“You know, Y/N..” Alastor’s voice caught you off guard. You looked at him, eyes wide as you waited for him to finish. “You’re not a bad egg.” “I’m sorry?” “What I mean, is you’re quite welcoming, Y/N. You seem kind.. I like someone who is kind.” His words made your cheeks flush. Alastor was known for not liking affection, or taking a fancy into anyone. But maybe you were special. Alastor gently patted the top of your head, his claws surprisingly soft even though they looked sharp.

You were a good egg, he said. Meaning you were special to him.

— ✩ —

[hairstevington]

call me when you get this

Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: Eddie and Steve are best friends, but even the best of friends have secrets.

WC: 3K

Warnings: Story told through voicemails, mild angst, coming out to each other, secret feelings, friends to lovers, kissing, swearing, light angst very brief, references to Robin and Gareth, drunk shenangians, idiots in love, set in 1991 but it doesn't matter too much, no mention of the Upside Down stuff

A/N: I have like three other WIP's happening and zero time but this idea was given to me by the beloved @tinytalkingtina in the discord and then I couldn't get it out of my head. Ao3 link here for those interested!

Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 12:52am

GARETH hi yes I know it’s late but HAVE YOU LISTENED TO THE ALBUM YET? I need all of your thoughts immediately. Like, all of them. Every thought. Dude, my head is spinning. Ohhh, man. Kurt is a fuckin’ legend. Woooow. Okay, I could talk about this shit for like three hours but I don’t want to run out your tape so just call me back when you get this and then talk to me about it for three hours. Can I come over a little early tomorrow? Yeah, I’m gonna come over a little early tomorrow. Maybe a lot early. Alright, catch ya then. 

Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 3:40pm

Uhh, ha. Hey Steve. Thiiiis is Eddie, obviously. I, uh, I just realized I called you in the middle of the night last night on accident, and - uhh, sorry about that. It was just - ah, screw it. You know what I am. Byeeeeee-

Tuesday, September 24th, 1991, 7:30pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Eds, how many times do I have to tell you to change your answering machine message? What if, like, the president calls? Okay, maybe not the president. But an employer or something. Or, like, what if you give the girl of your dreams your number and she calls you and hears THAT? Food for thought. Uhh, anyway, it’s fine. I wasn’t even home when you called me. Robin was, though, and so you’ll probably hear her wrath next time you come over for movie night. Good luck with that. Oh, wait. You’re at a show tonight, right? Damn. I swear I’ll make the next one. Okay, bye, dickhead. 

Wednesday, September 25th, 1991, 1:12pm

“You have reached Steve Harrington. Figured I should say that in case whoever is calling me thinks they’re calling someone else. Anyway, I’m busy right now so I’ll call you back. Bye!”

Ha, ha. You are so funny, Harrington. You ever think about being a stand-up comedian? Jesus, and you say I’M the dramatic one. Uhh, the show last night went well, by the way. Not that you were THERE. Seriously, what kind of friend even are you? I’m hurt, Steve. I’m hurt. Anyway, see you tomorrow for movie night. I get to pick. It’s only fair, right?

Thursday, September 27th, 1991, 4pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

You’re not picking the goddamn movie. No way. Last time you did that we got scarred for life. Also, um. I can’t tell if you’re joking or not about me and your shows. I didn’t realize you - uhh, you’re probably joking. Forget I said anything, and see you tonight. I’m at work right now, so I’m gonna rent some backup options just in case.

Sunday, September 30th, 1991, 2pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Dustin says you were being a total dick last night. Good. That shrimp deserves to be humbled every once in a while. Your answering machine message still sucks, by the way, and yeah I’m gonna tell you every time. 

Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:21pm

“Hey, this is Steve.”

“And Robin!”

“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”

“We are probably together.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, that too.”

“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”

“Probably.”

“Probably!”

Steve. My guy. I can’t believe you make fun of me for my bullshit message all the time and now you’ve created and advertised THAT abomination?? I’m - wow. I forgot why I even called.

Monday, October 1st, 1991, 3:23pm

“Hey, this is Steve.”

“And Robin!”

“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”

“We are probably together.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, that too.”

“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”

“Probably.”

“Probably!”

Okay, I remember now. I know you said you have that date tomorrow with Heidi or Melissa or Samantha or whoever is currently obsessed with you, but I really do want you at the show if you can make it. You can bring her, if you want. Actually, it might be a good test. If she hates metal, she fails. I only want the best suitors for you, Steve Harrington. Be there or I’ll be REALLY annoying about it forever. 

Tuesday, October 2nd, 1991, 11:45pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Hey, it’s Steve. So, uh - I saw your show tonight. You’re probably not home yet, but I don’t know where you are. Cuz like, I tried to find you after your set but you disappeared. I hope everything’s okay. You sounded great, by the way. I mean, you all did. Remember me when you’re playing at the Garden? Oh also, I heard like three women talk about how badly they wanted you, so…I dunno, just figured you’d like to hear that. Hey, maybe you got with one of them and that’s why you’re not answering. In that case, hope you’re having fun? Okay, now it’s weird. Bye, Eds.

Wednesday, October 3rd, 12:54am

“Hey, this is Steve.”

“And Robin!”

“And you’ve somehow managed to call us when neither of us are here.”

“We are probably together.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Or we just don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, that too.”

“Either way, leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”

“Probably.”

“Probably!”

Steeeeeeeeeeeve. You absolute buffoon. You beautiful, oblivious man. Why’dya think I wanted you there’so badly t’night, Steve? T’wasn’t for the girls. Ha, girls. Yeah, okay. I may have had several alcoholic beverages, Steve-o, but you’re still the dumbass. Cuz you’d have to be an absolute idiot t’think I have any interest in those women. ‘Specially yours. Your women, I mean. Sandyyyyy. Ugh, she was perfect for you, Harrington. Juuuust perfect. So perfect I didn’t wanna stick around to see any more of it. I hope you two have beautiful children. Name one after me, will you? Uhhhh I think I might puke. So, I’m gonna go, but - but do you get what I’m saying? Do you - do you get it? Tell me you get it. Steve, I - Oh, hey Gareth. Do you wanna talk to Steve? Wait why are you - Dude, I’m FINE. I’m handling it! Stop! Gareth, don’t hang up the phone, I haven’t -!

Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 9:05am

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Dude, did you fucking break into our apartment last night? Robin and I came home this morning and found a broken lock and some shitty note we could barely read next to the answering machine, and - what the fuck, man? You wiped the damn thing clean. Just - call me back, okay? Jesus. 

Wednesday, October 3nd, 1991, 11:36am

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

Eddie, come on. We really need to talk. I’m not - I’m not mad, honest to God. Call me back, as soon as you get this. Got it?

Thursday, October 4th, 1991, 3:47pm

“Hey, it’s Eddie. I proooobably won’t listen to whatever you’re about to say, but shoot your shot anyway.”

It’s movie night, but I’m assuming you won’t be here considering you’ve pulled your magic disappearing act. Thanks for that, by the way. You know you really piss me off sometimes? All the time, actually. I’m getting real tired of you constantly poking fun at me, and then you pull this breaking and entering shit and just take off? Just like that? We’ve been friends for years, Eds. You and me. But you never want to just be serious, not once in your goddamn life, and I’m over it. So, uh, thanks for that, I guess. I dunno what I did. 

Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:12pm

Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!

Huh. You know what? I kind of miss the old message you had. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m impossible to please, yada yada yada, and now I’m doing the avoiding with humor thing again. Shit. Uhh, hi. Listen, I’m sorry I disappeared off the face of the earth for a while. Really, really fucking sorry, if you can believe it. I was just, like, mad embarrassed, and I didn’t wanna - uh, can we meet up soon? Alone? Like, without Robin even? I know that’s - like, unheard of these days, but I figure maybe you’d make an exception for me. Or maybe you won’t. Just let me know, yeah? 

Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:30pm

Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!

See, I would just hop on over to your place to talk but the thing is, I’m a total chickenshit and it’s not like I did super well the last time I showed up to your place unannounced, so…Uhh, while we’re on the subject, I’m sorry about your lock. If you haven’t replaced it yet, I will. I’ll at least pay you back. In my defense, that thing was like two seconds from falling off anyway. But still. Anyway, I know you always spend Sundays at home, soooo…hellooooo? Come on. At least pick up the phone and tell me to fuck off. I know you’re listening. At least - I hope you are, anyway. Just pick up, man. I - I really gotta talk to you. 

Sunday, October 7th, 1991, 1:37pm

Hi! You have reached Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley’s home. Leave a message at the beep!

So, quick update, I called Henderson. He confirmed you are at home, which means you are DEFINITELY listening, and either you’re trying to punish me or a part of you still finds my piece of shit ass charming somehow. Look, I know I fucked up, but - but I can explain. Shit. I mean, I’m not good with words or anything and I’m a total asshole but I - just, please. Pick up. Pick uuuuup. Come on. Now you’re just being a dick. Ha. Figures, I’m apologizing and calling you a dick in the same message. Dude. Seriously. Your tape is gonna run out of space and then what? You stop hearing from me? I’ll find other ways to annoy you, promise. This is a threat. Steve. Steeeeve. Pick up pick up pick up pick upppp -

“Will you just shut the hell up already?”

Eddie dropped the phone and heard it clack against the floor. He would have recognized that voice anywhere. 

He turned around and there he was. 

“Steve, what are you -?”

“You would just be yapping on that damn answering machine my whole drive here,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “I don’t know why I expected any less. And, thanks to you, we had all the space in the world for you to take up, so -”

“H-how did you get in here?” Eddie stuttered. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “What? You think you’re the only one who’s not afraid of breaking and entering?”

They hadn’t seen each other in five days. Hadn’t even talked, aside from a few voicemails. And those never told the whole story. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie began. 

“Yeah, you should be,” Steve replied, taking a step closer to Eddie in the kitchen. 

Eddie winced, his heart racing a million miles a minute. He just had to get all of the words out, while he still could. While Steve was listening. 

“I left you this really stupid voicemail,” Eddie explained. “That night, after the show. I was drunk off my ass, and - and Gareth told me I’d said shit I shouldn’t have said, and then I panicked, and the two of us went to your apartment and I - well, you know the rest.” He slumped down into the chair at the dining room table, putting his head in his hands. “Which is all just so dumb. And I didn’t wanna deal with the aftermath, so…”

“So you stopped talking to me?” Steve said, taking another step closer. “Because you thought that would be the straw that broke the camel’s back in our friendship?”

Eddie shook his head. “I dunno, I -”

“You’ve done some real weird shit over the years, Munson,” Steve continued. “Sneaking into my apartment doesn’t even make the top three.”

Eddie buried his face in his hair. No amount of boyish charm would get him out of this one. Jesus H. Christ. 

He sighed. “Okay, so I overreacted, what else is new?” 

“I heard the voicemail, dickhead.”

Eddie’s heart went from breakneck speeds to stopping entirely. 

“What?”

Steve sat down in the other seat at the table. “I heard the voicemail. It was 1am, again, so yeah I was at home.”

“I thought you would have been with Sandy,” Eddie muttered.

Steve shook his head. “Nah, Sandy was - she’s great and all, but she isn’t - she’s not -”

“So you heard the voicemail, but you weren’t home when I showed up,” Eddie noted.

“Right,” Steve said. “Because I was headed to your place.”

“What?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I just - I didn’t understand why you never told me you were queer. Like, you know I don’t care about that. You know about Robin…”

As Steve talked, Eddie realized that Steve only heard half of what that voicemail was trying to express. So, it was time for Eddie Munson to face the music. 

“I didn’t tell you I’m gay because I knew that once I did, you’d figure out the rest of it,” Eddie blurted out.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “The rest of it?”

Eddie groaned. “Oh, God. See, drunk me had the right idea saying this kind of shit over an answering machine. Christ, I’m so bad at this, but I’m just gonna say it, because if I don’t I think I’ll lose my shot with you and I - I can’t deal with that. So, here we go.” He squeezed his eyes shut and powered through. “Steve, I - ha, shit. I love you, dude. I’m - I’m IN love with you. I have been since, like, forever.” He opened his eyes, but kept them fixed on their feet against the linoleum kitchen floor. “Which is, uhh, a lot, I know. But it’s the truth. So if there’s any chance -”

“Oh, my God,” Steve interrupted. His voice wasn’t angry, or scared, or anything like that. It was soft and understanding. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “Wait, what are you thinking?” He looked up to see Steve staring off into the distance before meeting his gaze. 

“I’m thinking,” Steve replied. “That I owe Robin twenty bucks.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and felt his heart skip back into rhythm. “You do?”

Steve nodded with a slight smile. At some point, his hand had ended up on Eddie’s knee. “Yeah, I didn’t believe her. Told her no way, not possible.”

Eddie didn’t know how to feel about this reaction. It wasn’t the worst possible response, but it certainly wasn’t Oh, Eddie! How I’ve longed for you all this time! Take me now! 

A middleground, if you will. 

“Oookay,” Eddie said. “Well, I don’t really know what to say now.”

“I’m queer too, ya know,” Steve continued.

"Wait, really?" Eddie balked. "Steve Harrington, ladies man?"

Steve chuckled. "Uh, yeah. Turns out, not so much," he said. "I feel like I’m pretty open about it. Guys, girls, whatever -”

“Yeah, but we all do that,” Eddie reasoned. “Me, you, and Robin all talking about how hot everyone is on our movie nights. It doesn’t prove anything.”

“Except that it totally does,” Steve countered. “Because, like, what do we all have in common?"

Eddie thought about it, and he didn’t have any other defenses.

“O-okay, so you’re queer too,” Eddie said. “And the other thing I said?”

Steve took a deep breath and looked Eddie directly in his frightened eyes.

“Eds, obviously I love you too,” Steve admitted at last. “Come on, seriously? After all I’ve put up with? I’ve been waiting around for like five days for you to call, like some lovesick puppy, and the moment I heard your voice I drove here instead of picking up the phone like a normal person. I’ve got it so bad for you that Robin is sick of it, and honestly, I’m sick of it too, because I hate having feelings. It blows, dude. I swear to God, if you try to bolt again when things get tough -”

Eddie lunged forward and cut Steve’s words off with a kiss. Their first kiss, even if it didn’t feel that way. Eddie had cupped Steve’s cheek in the past while he teased him. Steve had curled his fingers in Eddie’s hair in the past the night Robin taught him how to braid. Eddie and Steve had all kinds of physical contact in various ways over the years, and it was as if all of that was just practice for this. 

Eddie broke away from Steve’s lips purely out of necessity, because he needed to catch his breath. “Okay, woah,” he said.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Woah.”

Everything changed after that. But also, nothing changed at all.

-

Tuesday, October 16th, 1991, 4:12pm

“Hey, this is Eddie Munson’s phone. Leave a message and I’ll call ya back.”

Hi, Eds. Okay, I was wrong. This new message you have is, like, super boring. Anyway, I’ll see you at the show tonight, Rockstar. Love you. 

xx

I did have a taglist way back when but the tagging system is super annoying on tumblr, so please reblog this if you liked it and follow me or my Ao3 for other works! Masterlist is the pinned post on my page for those interested. Thanks for reading!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

[annie-creates]

I deserved it

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Genre: angst

Words: 1000

Note: This story is inspired by this amazing song so I'm very greateful to the person who used it for an Agatha edit. Please be aware there's a talk of scars in case it makes you uncomfortable.

When Agatha Harkness entered your apotheke on the outskirts of your town, you thought it must have been a mistake. She would never step into a mile radius of yours willingly. But she wasn’t alone, she had a young boy with her. A kid who was a little too excited to get on the path of death for your liking, but at the same time it intrigued you. It was clear Agatha herself didn’t really want to be here, but once he told you about the coven list, you understood she really didn’t have much of a choice. If she wanted to find the witch’s road, she needed a coven with you in it.

Against your better judgement, you came to the meeting point, other witches already gathering. Quite a weird group in your opinion, Agatha must have been desperate. You couldn’t fathom she’d choose any of them willingly. That’s how you got yourself into the shenanigans of trials and tests, each one crazier than the one before. You weren’t all exactly friendly with each other either, most of you having some old beef with Agatha. Which at least didn’t leave you alone in your reservations towards her.

In the chaos of the last trial Teen got hurt and you all rushed outside to tend to him in the calmer surroundings. Everyone seemed desperate to find something to help, but surprisingly most of all Agatha, who pushed Jen to come up with anything that would help. You stand by his side, calling to your healing powers your hands starting to glow.

„Don’t touch him!“ Agatha screams at you, the cruelty in her voice taking you back.

„Do you want him to live or not?“ You spit back after the initial shock, masking your hurt expression.

In the mean time Jennifer makes her makeshift potion, slowly healing his wound. You take a few steps back, still hurt by the refusal of your help. You watch as they take him to sleep, opting to help Lilia with setting up a campfire instead. She notices your sudden quietness but doesn’t comment on it. The day has been hard on all of you.

“He might get a scar from this one,” Alice comments as she and Jennifer return, leaving Agatha looking after the kid.

“I bet he’ll find it pretty cool,” you answer halfheartedly.

“Do you guys have any magical scars?” She asks, stirring up a friendly conversation. “You’ve already seen mine.”

“I have these from the bounds,” Jen admits showing her wrists with lines that were hardly visible now.

“Look at this,” Lilia shows the side of her neck. “It’s from a vampire… right before I knocked out his other tooth.”

That gets everyone laughing and you must chuckle a little. What a weird group, and yet you kinda did click together. Maybe the choosing wasn’t completely random after all. All covenless witches, renegades who didn’t fit into the society of the outside world. You hear Agatha’s steps before she sits down by the fire, an opportunity they can’t pass on.

“Do you have any battle scars Agatha?” Alice asks lightly.

“Check this out,” she unbuttons her sleeve rolling it up. “Knitting needle right to the elbow.”

“Wow,” Jennifer admires. “What about you Y/n?”

You slowly look up at her, being a little lost in your own thoughts to follow the conversation too closely. You debate yourself for a minute with a loud inhale and exhale, deciding to also share a little piece of your troubled past. So you open the first few buttons of your shirt. There, in the middle of your chest, lies a deep pink scar.

“Oh my god, where did you get that?” Jen asks surprised.

“Well… a long time ago, I had this… person. And I wasn’t able to protect someone very dear to them… so she promised to cut out my heart and never forgive me,” you admit, your eyes glossing over as you remember the painful memory.

“Wow that’s cruel,” Alice whispers taken back by your dark story.

“I guess I deserved it,” you shrug, suddenly feeling colder.

The other women shake their heads clearly disagreeing but it’s not their place to argue with you on your self-esteem and worth. Agatha stays quiet, remembering the day she almost cut your heart out for the loss of her son. Even now, decades later she couldn’t understand how you could fail the one time she really needed you, and it only strengthened her decision that she can’t trust anybody when it comes to important stuff.

You get up after a minute, too lost in your own mind to entertain the ladies. You walk through the forest, immediately missing the warmth of the fire. Were you a good person? Reliable? The people in your life now would surely say yes, the witches on the road didn’t know you enough to judge, and Agatha would definitely have a different opinion. So what’s the right answer? Could you even believe in yourself? If not, how could you ask others to?

Your mind travels back to earlier today when Agatha forbade you from helping, rather entrusting Teen’s life in the hands of a stranger than yours. Did she really think so little of you? That you’d hurt the kid? The answer came walking behind you, subtle rustling of leaves revealing her presence. With a spiteful feeling you think she came to make sure you didn’t poison the boy or something.

“You know, this road is like Switzerland…” Agatha waits for you to turn around and look at her. “So I won’t attack you here… If I don’t have to.”

“Oh what a relief…” you scoff, folding your hands over your chest.

“But don’t expect the same courtesy when we’re outta here,” she warns you. “I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

“Wouldn’t imagine anything else,” you sigh.

“You were right you know?” she adds, already on her walk away from you. “You deserve much worse than just a scar.”

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of my earlier jobs in life was at a little pizza place. I worked there when it was first starting up. It’s the only job I’ve ever been fired from and it was because a new manager came in and cleaned house. Because my state requires a reason to be fired he said I used too much pepperoni. So now on job applications I get to write that I was fired for “excessive use of pepperoni.” Never fails to get a laugh.

Anyway! For this story to make sense I’ve first got to set the stage. This pizza place started out as the Wild West of management but one of the original investors was super committed to work programs through the prison. We hired a ton of ex convicts and they were all, to a one, super hyped on Christianity. Like born again for the sole purpose of lauding Christ with their every breath.

I hadn’t been working there long but I’d definitely noticed the Jesus bug had gone around, and as I’ve never been religious at all I tried to steer clear of the topic for my own safety.

The day our story takes place, I was folding boxes. Anyone whose ever worked pizza can attest, there’s so much box folding. It’s something that happens at every lull, the pizza machine demands box folding on a grand and epic scale.

On my right folding his stack of boxes was a guy wider than he was tall, made of pure muscle, Corey. He was newer on staff, and due to a stutter he didn’t talk much. All I knew about him was that he got hired through the rehabilitation program and had done time.

On my left folding was a tall middle-aged woman who loved to yell at me, Cindy. She and I rubbed each other the wrong way and had nothing in common, leading to a tense working relationship.

We folded boxes in silence. This was really my best case scenario as a quiet Cindy was a Cindy not riding my ass, and Corey intimidated me.

But the weight of the silence grew too much for Cindy, who finally said, “I really want to go to bible school.”

I folded a box. I had less than no idea what bible school even was and I didn’t want to get sucked into a religious topic.

On my right Corey said, “W-why, Cindy?”

“Well, cause I believe what’s in the Bible, but I just don’t know it all.”

He nodded sagely to this.

Cindy continued, “And every time I sit down to read the Bible I get real sleepy. And I know it’s the devil.”

It’s so hard to convey her tone in written format. It was delivered with the emphasis and exasperation of an inevitable inconvenience. Like, I just know it’s the squirrels eating the bird seed.

I froze in place at this pronouncement. My only exposure to Lucifer was Neil Gaiman’s Sandman comics and I was trying to mentally twist into a frame of mind where The Morningstar cared enough about this one middle aged lady expanding her knowledge of the Bible that he followed her around cursing her with sleepiness when she picked it up.

I think I expected Corey to say, “Well that’s silly,” or something to acknowledge what a bizarre thing Cindy had just said.

Instead he said, “Yeah!” In a tone of complete agreement.

I didn’t look up. I tried to keep my face neutral at this development.

But something must have shown. Corey said, “You don’t believe in God?”

I shrugged casually and said, “If I did I wouldn’t talk about it at work.”

“C-cause it’s t-true. If y-you t-ry to r-read the B-bible on unsanctif-fied gr-round the d-devil m-makes you s-sleepy!”

I made a noncommittal sound and fled into the back room.

Over the next week it drove me crazy though. The logic of it wouldn’t leave me alone so finally one day when it was just Corey and I in front, and the restaurant was empty, I said, “Hey man, I have a question.”

He shrugged and listened.

“I really don’t mean this with any disrespect, I just genuinely want to know about the logistics-“

“J-ust ask.”

“Okay, so if Cindy gets tired when she reads any book, is it only the devil making her tired when it’s the Bible?”

His face went purple with fury and he yelled, “F-fuck you!” at my retreating back as I fled once more into the back room.

It will forever remain a mystery.

[alphajocklover]

I'd like to see how my life would have turned out, 20 years ago, had I joined my college football team instead of the college theater group.

Fuck. Fucking hell this fucking sucks. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. It’s not you, you’re not the reason I’m upset. Your request is interesting and I want to help you with it, I really do. It’s just… to do this, we’re going to have to use time travel. It’s not that it’s impossible or anything, I actually own a time machine so that’s not an issue. It’s that… I fucking hate time travel.

I don’t hate the concept of time travel itself. I think it can be a lot of fun in works of fiction. Doctor Who, Back to the Future, and Star Trek are all things that heavily feature time travel that I’m a big fan of. It’s just that, in real life, it gets so stupidly complicated. You know how every work of fiction seems to have different rules for turn travel? In real life time travel follows all these rules and none of them all at once. If that seems confusing, that’s because it is. It’s insane. But it’s the best chance for doing this, so we’re going to give it a try. Now, close your eyes and hold onto me tight. This is going to feel weird.

You can open your eyes now. Be careful though, it’s going to take a second for your eyes to adjust. We’re outside now, on the football field of your old college. You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us. I may hate time travel but the time machine is pretty useful. Time travel, space travel, and camouflage. But that’s not important right now. See that skinny guy standing on the opposite side of the field? You should recognize him. It’s you, 20 years ago, as a college freshman. You really wanted to join the football team huh? I can see the longing in your eyes… but also some serious nervousness. I’m guessing this is about when you back out and decide to join the school's theater group. Not this time though. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna change anything drastic. I’m just going to give you a little… push in the right direction. Have to get you to join the team somehow. I just have to whisper some things in his, or I guess your ear while we’re in camouflage… and just like that everything is going to change. Welcome to the football team. You’re a little late on becoming a jock, but you’re a hard worker. You’ll catch up. Speaking of which…

We jumped forward in time. I probably should have warned you, I was just excited to see the changes. We’re not all the way back to the present, not yet. It’s been a year since the other you joined the football team, and just like I predicted you caught up real quick. Even when you were in theater you were a hard worker, and now that you’ve dedicated yourself to football instead, you’re an absolute beast. You’ve had a major growth spurt and fit right in with the guys who have been playing football since middle school, a total jock through and through. Looks like this version of you acts a little more jockish too. Probably because you’ve been spending so much time around jocks, they’ve been rubbing off on you. Literally in one very special case. That’s right, the new you managed to do what you never could in college: get a jock boyfriend. In the original timeline he never even looked your way, but now Tim Wire, the most popular jock in school, is head over heels for you. You two seem to have a great relationship… Let's see if it lasts.

Another jump forward, a much bigger one this time. It’s been about 5 years since you joined the football team. You didn’t go professional, not because you couldn’t but because you didn’t want to. A guy like you could have been a superstar, but you and your fiancée Tim agreed you both wanted something more stable. So you opened up a chain of gyms. It’s a small business, but it has a lot of potential for growth, especially with you as the face of the operation. You basically have it made. You own a small, successful business, have a sexy husband, and are about to adopt a 3 year old. Your life is fucking perfect. Let’s see if it gets better.

A final jump forward. We’re 20 years after you joined the football team, back into the present. You’re still the old you, but that’s only because I have to ‘finalize’ the changes. Take a look around. You might not recognize this place, this huge mansion, but it’s your home. You, your husband Tim, and your adopted son all live here together. This must be your home gym, and I believe that’s you and him flexing over there. Looks like the little guy ended up taking after his dads. He’s huge for an 18 year old. He’s smart too, all ready to take over the family business when you retire. Your gyms are a very successful franchise now, if you can’t tell from the sheer size of your house. It’s just my opinion but I think your life really would have been better if you joined the football team back then. And now it can be. All you need to do is press this button, and finalize the changes. It’s your choice-

Ok, that was quick. I guess it was an easy choice. I hope you enjoy your new life. I would if I were you. I mean a muscular sexy husband, a son you can be proud of, a successful business and an incredible amount of muscles and confidence. You’ve got it made. I just hope we didn’t change too much. I didn’t realize you’d start a gym franchise. That could have a big impact.

I’m sure it’s nothing though. I mean, how many lives can a gym really change?

[blue-babygirl]

Energy Drink

Pairing: Derek Morgan x college student! Reader

Type: Fluff/Sweet (I think?)

Description: You know you are not supposed to be drinking energy drinks. Derek restricts them for a reason. But it's not like he is around to find out at the moment.

Warnings: stern but loving Derek, somewhat dominant Derek and that's pretty much it. Let me know if I need to add anything.

You stare at the energy drinks in the vending machine near your lecture hall, contemplating whether to actually get one or not. You can practically feel the single-eyebrow-raised stare that Derek would give you if he were there.

Actually, if he were here, you wouldn't even be standing here contemplating this decision. After all, there is a reason Derek doesn't approve of you drinking energy drinks.

But as you hear your friends entering the hallway, you make up your mind and make quick work of getting your previously favorite flavor from the drinks available, checking to see how much time you have before the professor locks the door as your friends get to you and you make your way to into the hall, taking your seats in the middle.

Before you know it, you have emptied the can, recycled it, got done with work, hyper-fixated on cleaning the kitchen, cleaned the kitchen, and are distractedly working on 3 essays at the same time when Derek gets home. You run over to him before practically throwing yourself in his arms, eternally thankful for how strong he is as you realize that you could have both fallen and gotten hurt.

“Someone’s happy?” Derek looks at you questioningly as you cling to him, making you nod into your hiding spot, his neck.

You can feel him chuckle as he holds you while putting away his things near the entrance. The keys into the bowl, his wallet near the bowl, his shoes near the rack, and his briefcase under the table. You can tell everything he is doing as he does it without even looking up from your hiding spot. It’s probably the energy drink.

“How was your day gorgeous? And why are you up so late? Don’t you have work in the morning?” He questions as he walks into the living room and sees the mess of snacks at the kitchen counter surrounding your laptop in stark contrast to the surprisingly squeaky clean kitchen.

But instead of getting answers like he expected, he looks down to see you staring at him with wide eyes before asking what time it was. That’s when it clicks to him.

He carries you around as he closes your laptop against your protests before carrying your pouty butt to your bedroom.

“I was still working on that essay. You can’t just close my laptop like that!”

Your complaints fall on deaf ears as he finally puts you down on the counter of your ensuite bathroom.

“Those essays, not that essay. And I saved them before closing your laptop sweet cheeks. Now, care to tell me about that energy drink you had?” Derek folds his arms as he gives you the look. You know, the look. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, you are bad at lying when it comes to him. Or honestly, the BAU in general. But in this case, that doesn’t even matter because you don’t think before you answer.

“How did you know?” You look at him with big eyes and a pout as you realize that you just told him that you had one.

“Because, sweetheart,” Derek smiles despite knowing he should be scolding you before nuzzling your nose with his, “I know you.”

You pout but give him a quick peck before he pulls away. “I was tired before a 4-hour lecture with the bitc- witchy professor.” You quickly correct yourself, not wanting to remember the task you had given him as he tried to stop his smirk at your almost mistake.

“You have to help me stop swearing! Please, Derek!!” You pleaded, but he still seemed unsure. “How exactly will I be helping you?” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow suggestively, making you blush but nod. This took him a little by surprise. “You have to use your words Y/N, you know I won’t agree to anything unless you clarify yourself and what you want.” You blush as you confirmed verbally to what you had both talked about with just your eyes not even minutes ago.

“Anyways, I was exhausted so I thought, why not.” You shrug.

“You know why not.” Derek gives you that look. “You get way too hyper for way too long sweeetie. You usually can’t even keep track of time, like today. I got home at around 3:25 a.m. Y/N. You have to wake up at 7 for work and now you are gonna have a migraine. Did you even eat dinner? Or lunch? Anything other than those snacks?”

You are honestly surprised about how late it is, you didn’t even feel the time passing. You try to remember if you ate anything for lunch or dinner but you don’t even remember getting or eating the snacks Derek mentioned. You cringe at the thought of the migraine you are going to have along with the fact that you definitely disappointed Derek and that you are not even sleepy.

Derek sighs after staring at you thinking for a few minutes, making you realize he is still there. At this point, you at least have the courtesy to look ashamed.

“Here is what we are going to do now. You are going to get out of these clothes and get in the shower while I get a few things done. Okay baby?” You nod quickly before making grabby hands at him. He obliges and comes closer for you to give him a hug. He gives you one last kiss on your forehead before leaving you in the bathroom.

“Wet your hair too!” You hear Derek yell from somewhere in the house as you make your way into the shower after undressing and getting it set up.

Not long after you get your hair wet thoroughly, Derek comes into the bathroom and joins you in the shower. After giving you a head massage as he washed your hair and helped you clean up with you returning the favor, you step out of the shower together. You let him cover you in his towel while he uses yours.

After getting changed into some pajamas and having him partially dry your hair with a towel, you get in bed together, finally tired and ready to fall asleep.

“I emailed your manager that you won’t be able to get to work until noon tomorrow.” Derek mumbles tiredly as he pulls you flush to him and snuggles you close.

You turn around in his arms before pecking his lips softly and mumbling out a thank you before you snuggle yourself as close to him as you can. You feel him kiss your forehead making you smile softly.

The last thing he hears before your breathing evens out is a sleepily mumbled, “No more energy drinks.”

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Will you be my girlfriend?

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 14 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist | Next Part

It was the day after you arrived that the boys helped you move into what would now be your new apartment. Chan had set up the entire thing before you even got on the plane, insisting on dealing with the first month of the rent considering it was a kind of high-end apartment.

It was one you never would have chosen for yourself, even though the proximity to nearby bus stops and shopping areas was nice, and the high security made it safe for the boys to not worry about crazy fans. But you had half a mind to ask for Chan to help you find an apartment nearby but somewhat more affordable for you.

Chan hadn’t even let you voice your worries before he was already reassuring you.

“It’s all on company budget. You’re our soulmate, it’s unavoidable that you’d be spending a lot of time around us, and it’s less of a hassle if you’re not entering or leaving the building all the time.”

You had a feeling the only reason the company cared was probably because they wanted to avoid the media finding out about you. But you were also grateful for not having to be in the public eye. After all, it wasn’t just Stray Kids that currently resided in the building, and you wanted to avoid your face or name being speculated as someone important to any of the multiple idols or actors that may or may not live in the area. Hell, you wanted to avoid being in the public eye at all.

It was that idea, along with the fact that your own apartment wasn’t nearly as expensive as the boys’, that made it easy for you to accept the living arrangements with no fuss.

Your apartment was 3 floors below the boys, with a singular bedroom, one bathroom, and a small area that counted as both a kitchen and a laundry room. It was small, but it was cozy, and you weren’t quite planning on spending much time in it if you were honest. Not when, as Jeongin carried in your suitcase and Felix tried explaining the laundry machine settings to you, Chan slipped two sets of keys into your hands.

“The first one is your apartment keys. I made a copy in case you lose it, it’s in our kitchen drawer if you ever need it. The other two are the keys to our dorms.”

And it was left at that.

Felix rested his chin on your shoulder, hand reaching around you to swipe the keys out of your hands and dangle one of them in front of your eyes. “This one is ours. Remember it, you’ll probably be using it a lot more than the other two.”

“Hey!”

Jisung tried to pull you away from his sunshine twin, but Felix wrapped an arm around your waist, letting out a laugh as the sudden resistance caused Jisung to rebound back towards you. The rapper had to grab onto the kitchen counter to avoid barreling into you. He let out a huff.

“Maybe they’ll want to spend more time in our dorm. We’re the cool ones, after all.”

“You guys don’t even spend time in your own dorm most of the time. You’re always at the studio, or the gym,” Jeongin countered.

“And even when you’re here, you guys spend more time in our dorm with us,” Felix added, his deep voice resonated in your ear, making your arms break out in goosebumps.

Jisung spluttered. “Lies! Slander! I’m being tag teamed by these two. Hyung, can you believe this?”

Chan laughed but made no move to intervene.

“Hyung!”

-0-0-

It took less than an hour for you to unpack all your belongings. The boys had decided to give you some space, and you used the opportunity to finally take a moment to yourself, settling yourself against your new bed. Rain splattered against the window, and you stared at the drops for a moment. Your body hummed, something you hadn’t noticed the first time you had been around the boys but was now hard to ignore. You felt light. You felt happy.

God, you hated that your mom was right.

The thought of your mom and dad had you longing to talk to them, but it was the middle of the night for them. You sent them a message, telling them you missed them and asking to talk later that night, and then you sent a quick message to the group chat.

Soulmates

Y/N I’m done packing. Anyone want to hang out?

You took a quick shower and changed into something comfortable, since you weren’t planning on leaving the building just yet. You were still a bit jet lagged, and didn’t have the energy to go out, but hanging out with one of the boys and getting to know them better seemed like the perfect way to spend your day. You checked your phone to see 3 unread messages.

Soulmates

Felix Me! Seungmin I’m free Felix want to watch a movie? Y/N Didn’t we already have movie night yesterday?

You got a reply instantly.

Soulmates

Felix we never got to finish it everyone fell asleep :( Y/N Woops. My bad Felix what do you say, Seungmin? want to finish watching the movie with us? Hyunjin Hey, what about me? We’re supposed to finish watching that movie together! Felix fine, we can watch another movie or maybe a series? hey babe, do you like anime? Y/N Babe? Felix oh, do you not like that? do you prefer sweetheart? Honey? Y/N (,,>__<,,) Is it hot in here or is it just me? Jisung Wow, Yonbok is the rizz master Jeongin First this morning, now this? Hyunjin Wait, what happened this morning? Jisung Just Yonbok stealing away our girlfriend Jeongin Girlfriend? Jisung … I mean … aren’t they? Y/N Technically none of you have actually asked me to be your girlfriend, so I guess im still single?

The group chat went suspiciously quite for the next few minutes as you gathered your apartment keys and sent a quick text directly to Felix to let him know you were on your way up.

He sends you nothing more than a simple ‘ok’ and you found yourself concluding that the boys were probably freaking out in their own personal group chat. The next message came through just as you got of the elevator on Felix’s floor.

Seungmin Do you mind if I join you and Felix for your movie night? Y/N Of course not!

You walked up to the boys’ dorm, taking a moment to double check the apartment number that Chan had sent you earlier so you wouldn’t forget, and then you had a moment where you stared down at the keys and felt yourself hesitate. You switched back over to Seugmin’s chat.

Y/N Hey, I’m outside Do you mind letting me in? Seungmin I’ll be there in a sec Don’t you have a key? Y/N I do Seungmin So why don’t you use it? Y/N Maybe I just want to see your pretty face

The door opened, and a shy looking Seungmin waved you in. You waited until he closed the door behind you before you wrapped you arms around him, and he didn’t hesitate to slip his own arms around your shoulders and pull you in closer. You let out a soft hum. Even though it had only been that morning that you had last seen him, you felt like you had never really gotten a moment to just be close to the singer.

In fact, you were pretty sure this was the first time you had ever been completely alone with Seungmin at all. You pointed this fact out to him, and he tightened his grip slightly.

“We never really had a chance to spend any time together alone,” He said, and you could feel his hesitation to mention exactly why that was.

You pulled back enough so you could look him in the eye. “Maybe we should change that.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to go on a date?” You asked him, sliding your arms up so that they were now around his shoulders. “Just you and me, nobody else?”

Seungmin shivered as one of your fingers spread out, one hand carding through the hair at his nape and the other lightly scratching at his neck. “Depends.”

You stopped your ministrations. “Depends on what?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, and it escaped in a wheeze that shortly turned into a laugh. You pulled Seungmin back in close so you could hide your face and the smile that was forcing itself onto your face, suddenly shy.

“Wow, you really didn’t wait at all, did you,” You giggled. “I thought for sure someone would have asked me through the chat first.”

Seungmin snorted. “Jisung wanted to, but we convinced him that it was more romantic to ask you in person.”

“Well,” You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Consider me very much romanced.”

You pulled away, but Seungmin kept a light hold on your wrist, pulling you back in when you started to turn out of the entrance. You spun back into his arms, catching yourself with a hand to his chest.

“You didn’t answer my question,” He reminded you, nose brushing up against your own.

“Yes, Seungmin. I’ll be your girlfriend,” You said with a smile.

And his lips pressed against yours for a moment, and then he was pulling back with a smile of his own. “Good.”

-0-0-

You half expected Felix to ask you to be his girlfriend, or maybe some other romantic gesture, but he never even brought it up. Instead, the three of you decided to watch a series that none of you had watched before, sitting side by side on Felix’s bed with his desk pulled close so his computer functioned as a makeshift tv. He claimed it was comfier in his room than in the living room, and you thought it was just an excuse to have you pressed up against him.

Except he didn’t make any moves to pull you closer, and the three of you managed to make it through half a season with nothing more than commentary on the show and a quick pause to get some snacks.

For being one of the touchiest soulmates, he sure was doing a great job at keeping his distance from you. You found yourself pouting, wondering if your earlier texts had upset him in some way, or if there was something else going on.

You wanted to ask, but you also didn’t want to ruin the calm mood. Felix didn’t seem to notice your pout when he came back with your favorite candy, the very one you had mentioned to Chan before.

“Chris told me you liked these,” was all he said, and you pouted harder.

He definitely wasn’t mad at you; you knew that much. It genuinely seemed like he was just relaxing in your presence, but every other time you had been this close you had only gotten a millisecond to yourself before he had pulled you into his arms. Seungmin didn’t seem to notice anything off though, and you wondered if maybe you were just overthinking everything.

Again.

You decided to ignore your own worries, focusing on the show. But you drifted closer to Felix, resting your head against his shoulder and squeezing your arm between his back and the pillow he was resting against so you could cuddle up against him. He let out a soft hum, arm reaching out to pat your head, but made no moves to return the cuddle. You narrowed your eyes at him.

You waited a few minutes, letting the episode get closer to its end before you made your next move. You allowed yourself to slip lower on the bed, you head now perfectly level with Felix’s chest, and it allowed you to wrap your arms around his middle and rest yourself completely against him. The sudden shift in position also forced him to hold onto you or fall to the side from you combined weight, and he realized this immediately.

His arm slipped around you, but instead of simply resting against you, he pushed back against you until you were once again sitting up, and then he pulled away to sit back next to you, shoulder against yours. You froze, blinking in surprise at the most subtle and quiet rejection you had ever received before you reacted.

“Seriously?”

“Hmm?”

You reached for the remote to pause the show before it could skip to the next episode, and Seungmin glanced at you from the corner of your eye, but you were much more focused on Felix.

Poor soft Felix who had the perfect innocent puppy dog eyes looking at you in confusion, but you would not allow yourself to be swayed by his beautiful looks.

“If you didn’t want to cuddle me, you could have just said something,” You told him. “But if I’m bothering you, you really should say something instead of pushing me away.”

Felix gaped. “I-what!? That’s not-“

“Seriously Felix. This is how you treat my girlfriend?” Seungmin drawled, resting his chin against your shoulder to stare down Felix. “Not cool.”

“Girlfriend?! I thought we agreed to wait!”

“Yeah, until we were face to face. Hate to break it to you buddy, but this is face to face,” Seungmin said, gesturing between the two of you and Felix with an amused look. “What exactly were you planning on waiting for?”

“I-“ Felix blinked, hands coming up to swipe down his face. “I don’t know! Shit, wait, now I have to think of something to say.”

“Maybe we can start with why you’ve been refusing to cuddle with me and we can work our way around,” You reminded him.

“I wasn’t refusing, I just …” Felix glanced at Seungmin. “I didn’t want to make things weird.”

Seungmin pulled away from you, moving forward so he was sitting next to you and not behind. “Why would things be weird? You’re allowed to cuddle with your soulmate.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to make you feel left out or anything-“

“It’s fine, it’s not like I haven’t seen you cuddling the others-“

“And I didn’t want to move so quickly, because I thought we were waiting-“

You rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, Felix. I’ve literally made out with half your group. I think cuddling is definitely within the boundaries of slow.”

“Wait, you what?” Seungmin said. “I thought I was the first.”

“Nah, Minho beat you to it. Planted one on her the night after the first concert, it was the cutest thing ever,” Felix said, quick to move the conversation away from him.

“Actually, Jisung was the first one to kiss me,” You corrected them, and then you waved your hand at both of their surprised faces. “Wait, that’s not the point. We’re getting off topic.”

You pointed at Felix. “You, didn’t want to cuddle me because you were worried about moving too fast, and making Seungmin uncomfortable?”

Felix nodded, and you let out a groan.

“And he also thought he had to wait to ask you out,” Seungmin added with a snicker.

Felix let out his own groan, face turning red. “Seungmin, shut up.”

“Make me.”

There was a knock on the door, and Jeongin poked his head into the room with his eyes closed. “Are you guys decent?”

You spluttered. “Why wouldn’t we be!??!”

“None of you were answering your phones!”

Seungmin let out a laugh. “I don’t think youd have to worry about anything happening with Felix around. He wants to take things slow.”

Felix threw his pillow a the Seungmin, but he missed and ended up hitting you in the face. Jeongin let out a gasp, and Seungmin’s laughter stopped so suddenly that the room was filled with a harsh silence for exactly two seconds before you let out a sigh.

“All right, I’m out.”

Jeongin snorted. “Dinner’s ready anyways. Come one, let’s get you away from them” He hissed something at the other two, and even though it was a word you had yet to familiarize yourself with, you understood enough from the context to find yourself nodding along with him.

“Wait, no! I’m sorry!”

“Great, now you got me involved too.”

The boys trailed behind you like lost puppies as you made your way into the kitchen, immediately smiling at the sight of Minho placing food on the table, Hyunjin already serving himself up only for Minho to immediately slap his hand with the food spoon he was holding.

“Wait for the others,” Minho said, glancing up to spot you and Jeongin walking over. “Oh, never mind.”

You skipped over and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Wow, this looks amazing. Thank you, Oppa.”

You threw the honorific out as a low blow, watching in amusement as Minho ducked his head to hide his growing smile. The last two boys joined you, and the table was suddenly loud and busy, like everyone had collectively forgotten the past few minutes the moment food was placed in front of them. You took a seat next to Hyunjin, inquiring about the missing boys.

“3racha are staying late at the studio today. So it’s just us.”

“Ah, ok.” You reached out with a napkin to wipe away some food from Hyunjin’s cheek, and he winked at you in thanks. “I guess I’ll see them tomorrow then.”

“Probably not,” Minho corrected. “We have an early schedule tomorrow.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “You guys literally just got back from tour!”

“Hmm, it’s just a photoshoot for a magazine. We have the rest of the week off, so don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of time to spend with us,” Felix assured you, patting your thigh under the table.

Hyunjin waved his hands as his eyes widened in a sudden realization, but with his mouth still full of food he was left flapping them around until he finished chewing and could finally talk. “That reminds me! Me and Felix have tickets to a museum this Friday. Do you want to come along? The others have already been, but Felix wanted to check it out again since he can see colors now.”

“Oh, I remember!” It seemed like ages ago that you had been worried about whether or not you would be around for that. You nodded your head in confirmation. “Yeah, I would love to come along.”

“Great. It’s a date.”

Felix’s squeezed your thigh as he said that. The others continued to talk about the upcoming photoshoot, but you found yourself unable to think about anything other than the constant warmth his hand was giving you, and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to pull away or keep touching you as dinner came to an end.

He finally let go when you went to help Seungmin with the dishes, and it was concluded afterwards that it was late and you could finish the series another day.

You wished the other boys goodnight, and while you were tempted to stay the night with one of them (Jeongin even offered up his bed), Minho reminded everyone that they would be leaving early, and they didn’t want to wake you up.

“We’ll see tomorrow night,” Minho told you as he walked you to the door.

Hyunjin wrapped his arms around Felix. “Hey, can I crash with you tonight? I’m too lazy to go back to my dorm.”

“No! Last time I couldn’t get rid of you!”

“Yah! It was one time!”

“I said no, go bother Jeongin or something.”

“Hey! Don’t bring me into this!”

You laughed as the boys continued to yell at each other, giving Minho a pat on the shoulder. “Good luck with the kids.”

He sighed. “God, I don’t know how Channie-hyung does this every day.”

“Maybe you should treat him better.”

“Hmm. Nah.”

You let out another laugh, and finally forced yourself past the door, giving him a smile as you walked away, your heart begging to stay. “Good night, Oppa.”

“Good night, kitten.”

[sashi-ya]

HUNT YOU DOWN, EAT YOU ALIVE izumo haruichi x f! reader. voyeurism 「+18」

⋆ requested by: anon: congratulations on 8k followers my dear <3 how about haruichi w a f!reader + voyeurism. i’ve a feeling he’s secretly kinda freaky under that neat little facade ⋆tw: mdni. explicit smut. voyeuristic haurichi. masturbation. desperate to fuck you. ends up doing it on the dark ⋆wc: 1,7K // event masterlist

Mint locks cover spots of his eyes, those who watch the drops of sweat drip down your neck, down your spine.

He is always there; when you train, supporting you from the dark. When you sleep, and when you shower, that’s what he desires… to observe your hands going up and down your waist, with your hair getting wet, and your flesh purified.

But Haruichi -thinks he- is decent. He just likes to watch, not -at least until now- become a stalker.

Oh, but dear Mr. Izumo… are you really that sure?

The heat is unbearable. Your hair tie snaps.

“Damn it!” you hiss, being this hot under scorching sun with your hair down seems like torture.

“Have it ~” Haruichi mumbles, presenting before your eyes a sacred black elastic.

What kind of miracle is this?

“Ah… thank you Izumo-san! I will give it back as soon as we get a shower” you happily exclaim, as the relief device reaches your fingers. And, soon enough, puts your hair up in a pony tail.

Haruichi acts cool. Though, the imagery of you putting your hair up makes him thankful for his family creation; Izumo tecs suits don’t show erections.

He feels deeply ashamed, however, of sexualizing every step you take.

You, on the other hand, can’t think of anything else besides how good he looks with his hair down. There is no guilt in wanting the same most women around want; Haruichi Izumo is the most eligible bachelor. Not only he is hot and strong, but also he is the future heir of Izumo Tecs.

Hot and rich. Be mine, Izumo-sama.

In any case, even if his family business might be able to create it very soon, Haruichi isn’t able to read your mind. Your façade, innocent and tired from training can only make him even more guilty.

“You can keep it for as long as you want, (Name)-san” he says, swallowing with his throat dry after you squeezed his hand in friendly manner.

You give him a sweet smile, turning around to follow suit your Captain’s orders; being the Tachikawa base still under construction you have been transferred to a different one so you are all still learning about the installations.

Haruichi stands there, watching you join the group of women officers. The way your body looks with the suit on, makes him wanna rip him. His palm itches to squeeze, to slap your ass. His fingers, desperate, wish to be holding your waist. His teeth, crazy to be buried on your back flesh.

“Get a grip, Haruichi!” “I’m just tired…”

The sunset came faster than expected, and a night sky full of stars covered the whole nation. With no Kaiju alert, every officer had the chance to have a good meal as well as refreshing showers before sleep.

But there were a couple of recruits whose eyes despite being closed, couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t that their bodies weren’t tired, indeed they actually were even more than that… but their brains couldn’t help it; both had each other images burned in the back of their minds.

A walk around the base would do; a canned iced coffee from that old machine will help with the heat. Caffeine never made you less sleepy anyway.

You realize that you lied to him; that black tie is now resting on your right wrist… You didn’t give it back. You smile discovering it still there. Your left index passing under, pulling a little bit from the elastic only to release it after. A tingling sensation invades your flesh, wishing that to be his hands squeezing your wrist to pin you down for a kiss.

Allowed to walk around in short shorts due to the heat, you put a show for two pair of eyes that bleed desire from the dark. Like a twist of fate, his emerald irises met your beautiful self in the middle of a dark hall of a still unknown new base.

Haruichi stands still; he is -or think he is- aware you aren’t of his presence. A debate of stormy qualities takes place inside of him; should he watch you, should he stalk you?

“Isn’t that a little bit on the criminal side, Haruichi?!” he repeats to himself. But he also can’t stop following the line of your bare legs, how those short shorts hug every inch of tasteful meat, how your now still a little wet hair falls on your back… and that tank top, that so shamefully allows your nipples to ghost through.

Haruichi bites his lips to the point of turning them white from the missing blood flow on them. Haruichi pulls from his front locks. Little physical reactions to a much-deserved punishment as he keeps on looking, as now his shorts do show an unstoppable hardness.

He looks at you play with his hair tie; he enjoys the way shadows cast on your profile as you drink that iced coffee… that weak white light coming from the vending machine reflects right in all your curves.

“If I were a bad man; If I were a sick bastard…” he susurrus. Haruichi is not, he won’t hurt you…

And you know that, but you want him to be bad; you want Haruichi to be sick… Because you’ve seen him, because you know he is there. But he doesn’t know, he doesn’t really know…

A drop, and suddenly a trail of iced coffee drizzles your tank top. Like those summer contest of wet t-shirts, you act dumb. Men are simple, men are addicted to shitty porn coded depictions.

Taking advantage of that weak spot light coming from the bending machine you show how much of your breasts are showing through now a completely shear fabric.

“Shit!” you whisper, loud enough for him to listen. Your palms graze against your chest, helping your nipples become harder. Acting like you are -stupidly- cleaning the stains off your body, you push Haruichi to a certain extent you are not sure how unhealthy might be.

Him, thinking his hideout is perfect, fights against the need of his hand reaching his crotch. Relief, I beg you please… give. me. some. relief…

He might not notice, but he definitely can be heard. Accelerated breathing, on the verge of panting. A hand over his shorts, already stain in precum. Desperate, Izumo Haruichi, has fallen.

You take the hair tie off your wrist and use it to tie your tank top up, right under your boobs. Low short shorts, belly exposed, nipples the shade of your lips protruding so tempting, casting shadows as you turn to full show yourself towards his way.

Haruichi’s hand going up and down, pumping his dick. Hungry, aching, yearning for his sticky palm to be your insides.

Your hips, moving softly side to side, like dancing to the melody of his huffs and “nghs”. Walking so slowly, almost deadly sedated pace towards him.

“Izumo-san, you like watching me? Do you enjoy this? Spying on me? Getting off on me while I’m not watching?” you purr, coming closer and closer to his hideout.

He doesn’t answer, but should he do it? Haruichi knows he’s gone too far, but can he stop it? can he stop relieving himself if your kissable lips ask him those things? Can he lie to you saying he doesn’t like what he sees?

“Tell me, Haruichi-kun… You enjoy touching yourself to this?” you ask, playing straight with your breasts; lifting slowly the wet coffee-stained shirt.

“I do, I do… I do...” he answers back, or maybe he growls. Like a beast, him losing everything for a drop of pleasure.

You scoff, letting the darkness of a training room in the middle of the night. Haruichi’s hand snatches you, covering your mouth with it as he pulls you inside.

“As much as I enjoy watching you, I much rather fuck you right here (Name)” he whispers right in your ear from behind. He has his hand pressed on your lower belly, pinning your back against his chest and sex.

“As much as I enjoy spying on you, to see your body from afar… I much rather have your skin all for me…”

You hum in consent, grazing your ass against his hardness. Him takes advantage of your little dance, humping right over your black shorts. He most probably wish to leave stains of his pace.

He turns you around when he is over with a dry humping -that’s above all anything but dry- that left him almost on the verge of climax once again. His lips clash with yours, a kiss done in the dark, a kiss that leaves you trembling from your waist down.

A kiss that becomes two and three, and your ass sitting right on a bench that’s most often used for training.

“You know, I just need to fuck you right here. I promise I will give you everything after, just let me fuck you deeper. Now…”

“Please, do… Haruichi-kun”

You are completely ok with his desperate ways; there will be time for foreplay… now you need him deep, oh so deep inside.

In total darkness, perhaps a faint reflection of the hall filters through, he pulls your shorts down. Not even the time to pull them completely off, as you feel one of the legs tangling on your ankle.

His fingers get absolutely covered with your juices, of a dripping wet sex desperate to be used. A few ups and downs, and some fingering took him to finally get you ready.

Oh, the image of his locks framing his face in between darkness, how they messy stuck to his forehead and temples covered in sweat…

A classic missionary will do for this, he is so well trained. Your legs are spread wide, the flowy white shirt of him tucked under his chin. Your hands land on sculpted abs, and then nails carve strongly on his forearms as he finally slides it in, raw and deliciously breaking you in half…  

It is by far ironic how he didn’t actually need to see to be able to touch and enjoy your body... when Haruichi is just a little voyeuristic man!

[frootynovak]

calex vs. outdoor activities vs. being clingy

“So, you are serious about going on this hike!”

Alex stood by the sink, drying her hands with the kitchen cloth hung by the drawer.

It was a chilly morning and the sun was just beginning to rise. The kitchen windows were slightly open and Alex was reveling the refreshing scent of blossoming magnolias next door, welcoming the start of spring. She could hear frantic movements and running around coming from upstairs. A minute passes and Casey emerges from the staircase in tight underpants and sweaters, carrying a backpack and a duffle bag.

“And you’re really not coming with me?”

“I am not going hiking with you, Case.” Alex insists. She takes a plate from one of the drawers and dumps the buttered toasts she prepared. “Did you see the list I gave you detailing the many reasons why it could be dangerous?”

Casey shakes her head in mild disbelief. She puts her bags down and comments, “Didn’t paint you as a pessimist but yes, I did see the list.” She moved closer towards Alex, grabbing a piece of toast off her plate and taking a bite. “And it is ridiculous.”

“Ookay, then what will you do if a brown bear lunged at you?”

“There are no bears where I’m going, idiot.”

“You don’t know that.” Alex pouts. “You could literally die.”

Casey shrugs. She bends down to tie the shoelaces of her hiking boots. “Eh, guess I’ll take my chances.”

Alex turns off the coffee machine and pours a cup. “Won’t you have coffee with me first?”

Try as she might, Alex knew well she can never convince her stubborn wife when Casey is already intent on doing something.

“Love to but can’t.” Casey gets up and walks across the kitchen. She took the remaining coffee from the brewer and poured the liquid straight into her red thermo flask. “I’m sorry. I’m just running a bit late.”

“And who are you going with? Do I know these people that you’re going with? Have I met any of them?”

Casey grins at her hesitantly. “Not exactly… But I am in good hands, Lex.”

When Alex didn’t answer, Casey proceeded to the fridge to get the packed meals and trail mixes she prepared yesterday for her trip. She puts them inside the duffle bag and zips it closed.

Pushing the eyeglasses up her nose, Alex sets aside the newspaper she was reading earlier into the rack in the living room.

She returns to the kitchen to take a sip of her coffee and then turned towards Casey with wide eyes when she realised something. “Oh Casey! You don’t even know the people you’re going with!”

“Relax, babe, I’m going to be fine.”

Alex clenched her jaw and put her hands on her waist. “How are you going to be fine? You will be in the middle of nowhere with strangers!”

“Okay, first of all, we have a guide. Her name is Emma Wheatley and she is a childhood friend.”

Alex raised a brow. “Emma? A girl?”

“Yes. Emma. A woman.” Casey says matter-of-factly. She furrows her brows, studying the expression on Alex’s face. “Before you get jealous, she is happily married with kids.”

Alex will never admit it but she tends to be possessive when it comes to Casey. There is no doubt in her mind that her hopelessly devoted wife will ever have the heart to betray her trust but she learned halfway into their early years that Casey can be so incomprehensibly oblivious when it comes to people flirting with her.

“Do you even know the trail? You could get lost and end up on dateline!”

“Baby,” Casey heaved a deep sigh. She stood in front of her wife and stroke the length of Alex’s arms as if to pacify her. “I say this sincerely but you’ve been watching too much television. And if you’re so worried, why don’t you just come with me, huh?”

She went camping in the woods with Casey once because she wanted to learn more about this side of Casey, outside of the courtroom and outside of the shell she’s built for her fast-paced life in New York—her adventurous, free-spirited, curious, and dynamic Casey.

There was one rainy night that Alex chanced upon a sleepless Casey just watching the raindrops pelting against the big window by the living room. She remembers how she was comfortably perched on the corner next to the couch with a cup of tea on her hand. When Alex approached her, Casey told her that it would have been her grandfather’s 82nd birthday.

Casey relived her childhood memories when their grandfather used to take little Casey and her brothers to go fish and camp in the woods. She said it was always what she looked forward to in the summer—their parents would drop them off and leave her and her two older brothers for a week or two in their grandparents’ small farm.

Touched by the memory and wanting to cheer Casey up, Alex agreed to go to the mountains with her. Casey told her it would be fun and easy, and that Casey will set up their tent and that they could lay down under a starlit sky and how she would even tell her fun facts about constellations. Or bugs.

When they found an appropriate schedule for the both of them, they left for Maine. Casey was overcome with excitement, and Alex, although glad that this little gesture made Casey happy, was nervous.

In the end, they had to circle back to the center and go to the nearest hospital when Alex complained of having itchy rashes.

Alex swore she would never go to the mountains with Casey again after what Alex dubbed as her second “near-death experience”. They both just accepted that outdoor activities would be Casey’s thing, and Alex will stay with playing tennis and riding horses. At times, Casey would still ask if she wants to go in hopes that Alex changes her mind.

“You sure you’re not coming?”

“I will wait for you by the foot of the mountain and you better meet me in one piece.”

Casey rolls her eyes before flashing a childlike smile at her wife. “Okay, okay. See you in three days, Cabot!”

She wraps her arms around Alex and peppered her wife’s face with chaste kisses, and then finally, bade her goodbye with a lingering kiss on the lips.

When Casey shut the door behind her, Alex felt a vague sense of yearning; a quiet ache settling in her chest. For a second, she mentally checks weekend routine to be sure that she won’t have spare time to sulk around the house because she misses Casey’s presence.

Alex bolted outside and quietly stood by the door frame in her silk pajamas. She watched Casey put her bags in the trunk of her Honda.

She debated with herself whether to say something for fear of getting teased by the redhead as being too clingy. She stood by the frame of the main door of their townhouse. “Case?”

“Yes, baby?”

Alex combed through her thoughts before deciding to finally ask something: She cleared her throat and asked whether Casey has double checked everything and packed her essentials: water, bug spray, sunscreen, mosquito repellant, a flash light, a whistle, a hunting knife.

“Yes, yes, and yes. Lex, this is not my first rodeo.”

Alex nods. “I know.”

Casey closed the trunk and then run to the front stairs up to where Alex stood. “Would you rather I stay home with you?”

Alex looks at Casey’s bright, green eyes. Yes, she would rather Casey stays home with her for the weekend. Yes, she would rather have her cuddled up and cozy by the couch while watching their favorite TV shows. Yes, she would rather stroll around busy Manhattan and hold hands with her and stop by for gelato. Yes, yes, yes, Alex wants Casey to just stay by her side so she could keep her safe and love her and adore her and make her hers.

“No, no. Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Go. Don’t worry about me, I’m fine.” Alex kisses Casey as she caresses her cheeks. “I would really enjoy if you’d keep me company of course but you don’t have to stop doing the things you enjoy just because you’re worried about me.”

There was a tinge of red on the apple of Casey’s pale cheeks as she listened to Alex talk. “Two years and you’re ready to renew our vows?” She teased. “Your ass is mine, Cabot.”

Alex could only give her a pointed look. “Shut up.”

Casey enters the car and puts her car key in the ignition. She opened the window slightly and shouted, “Don’t burn down the house while I’m gone! I’ll miss you!”

As Casey drove away, Alex follows the car with her eyes. She frowns and whispers to herself, “I’ll miss you, too, dumbass.”

[hotvintagepoll]

Okay, but now I must know your opinions on Putt-Putt games! (Gotta disagree with you. Putt-Putt Goes to the Moon is clearly the Best of them all)

i haven't played all the games (including Goes to the Moon, sadly), but here are my unfiltered reviews for all the ones I have played!

Putt-Putt Saves the Zoo: a classic. a slowburn. the same every time but that adds to its aura of stability, the old world, a pocket out of time undisturbed. also there are cheese puffs and you can have putt-putt eat them over and over if you don’t care much about saving the elephant

Putt-Putt Travels Through Time: more hectic, meandering, a loop in a loop: the clues ever spiraling outward, the chaos of time unlocked vying with old prospector stereotypes and a deeply inaccurate Middle Ages. a singing hourglass asks putt-putt to resolve reality and he responds “and my homework?” Notable for its wagon wheel fruit snacks (edible if you want to sacrifice the entire old west portion and shoot your gameplay in the foot) and the talking floating lipstick wearing car i had a crush on as a 4 year old.

Putt-Putt Enters the Race: a!!! banger!!!!! yes you get stuck in the vegetable garden too long. yes you wonder why Outback Al, a supposed zoologist, doesn’t know what a baby yak eats. but there’s a cat stuck in a tree and a dog with buried treasure and sometimes the shed is on fire! this is riveting domestic drama and the cherry on top is the number of milkshakes one can order. (a lot.)

Freddi Fish and the Stolen Conch Shell: the most perfect of the freddi games in my opinion for channeling noir coral reef aesthetics into a chiming, dark-hue’d mystery. shady characters galore (also a monkey). an intense climax with true stakes. a squid with a cabaret act. freddi peaks. (the seaweed looks soooo edible.)

Freddi Fish and the Hogfish Rustlers: ok this one kinda beefs it ngl. yes there’s an old timey bar yes you can order a root bear soda. but the vibes? the QUEST? the menace of the deep? lacking. there is one cool part where you can intentionally drown a ship, but otherwise the aesthetic is too brown to really go full High Noon.

Freddi Fish and the Case of the Creature of Coral Cove: the character design in this suuuuucks I couldn’t tell you why I just hate all of them. BUT there is a taffy machine and I love the finale of running around the house flipping open secret doors and bribing dogs, so I give it points for that.

Freddi Fish and Maze Madness: aptly named because this game has been driving me insane for years. I played it last week and I’m still stuck on level 31. what the fuck. humongous entertainment said let’s make a game for 8 year olds so we can really let those little suckers know they ain’t shit because this thing is impossible

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

from this prompt list (send me some if you'd like!) prompt #s 35, and 82

pairing: steddie | word count: 819 | rated: M (just in case!)

“Ah, fuck!” Eddie pants, finally letting go and dropping his weight into Steve’s capable hands.

Steve lets the other man catch his breath, running his hand up and down Eddie’s bicep in a soothing motion.

“You’re doing great, Eds, that was fucking perfect.”

Eddie looks up at him, mouth still hanging open though his breath is finally slowing.

“This is a one-time thing, you know.” Steve says.

“Fuck you.” Eddie heaves out, finally catching the last of his breath.

Steve chuckles at him, “Well, it is! I told you you’ve only got to try it once.” He moves his hand from Eddie’s bicep to pat the scraggly bun on top of his head sympathetically.

“Stop laughing at me, asshole.”

“I’m not! I’m not,” Steve laughs, “Well, okay, yes, I am–but!--it’s only ‘cause I love how irritated you get.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “Shut up, Harrington, just pass me the fuckin’ weights.” 

Steve smiles as Eddie lays back onto the bench in a huff. “You think you’ll get up to 25s by the end of the month, or are you gonna stick with 20s all year?”

“If you keep making fun of me, I’m gonna bench the 5s. Now pass them over; I gotta get this done ASAP.”

“Oh do you now?” Steve asks, coaxing his boyfriend to sit back up so he can take the weights properly. 

Eddie takes the free weights and lays back down, holding them over his head for another set of presses. “Yeah, duh. The faster I’m done, the faster I get to see you do yours.”

“You got a thing for jocks or something, Munson?”

Eddie’s starting to huff again, finishing off rep seven of ten.

“You know I do, sweetheart.” he grits out, pressing out the last one; he sits up and drops the weights to rest on his knees. “Pretty boy muscleheads lifting 70 fucking pounds over their head at once really gets me going.”

Eddie’s not lying either, he’s been giving Steve the eyes the whole time they’ve been in this gym, and it’s NOT helping Steve’s concentration.

Steve does his warm-up jog on the treadmill? Eddie gives him the eyes.

Steve manages to do a full set of reps with 35s instead of 30s? Eddie gives him the eyes.

Steve loads up the leg press machine, eyes. Actually does leg presses, eyes.

Eddie sets the dumbbells on the floor and stands so Steve can take his place on the bench.

“You’re insatiable.” Steve gumbles, hefting his own weights (still 35lbs each!!) onto his legs so he can push them up properly with his knees and lay back for his presses.

“And I can’t wait for you to saiche me when we get home.” he says, relishing in the fact that he made Steve laugh in the middle of his last rep.

“Don’t do that, asshole! I coulda dropped this thing on my face!” 

They swap spots once more, Eddie finishing his last set on the bench, then Steve starts talking him through the next exercise.

“Okay Eds, you’re gonna stand up for this one. Make sure you’re standing straight, take one weight in your hands by one of the ends like this,” he cups one bell of the dumbbell in both his upturned palms, “and go behind your head with it, palms up.

“Then, all you have to do is push the weight up toward the ceiling and back. Got it?”

He demonstrates, both arms stretched up and bent at the elbow to let the weight hang from his hands behind his shoulders. The stretch causes Steve’s shirt to ride up, leaving a sliver of his soft stomach bared, the muscles at the back of Steve’s upper arms (He told Eddie the correct term for them before, as if he was going to remember that..) bunch and stretch with each movement…and Eddie immediately wants to climb him like a tree.

“Eds, you got that?” his boyfriend says, sounding slightly out of breath as he continues to press his weight above his head.

“Steve.” Eddie breathes out.

Steve keeps going, concentrating on his movements.

Eddie tries again, “Stevie, darling. Either you need to stop. Or we need to leave.” 

“What?” he stops, carefully moving the weight back to his front and putting down onto the bench beside them. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” How could he not? Does he not know how he looks right now??

Eddie feels his cheeks flush hotter as Steve searches his face, his eyes dropping down.

“Oh—oh yep, yep, okay, lemme just–” Steve wastes no time re-racking their weights and grabbing a spray bottle of disinfectant and paper towel to clean off the bench they were using.

“C’mon, lets go,” he says in a low voice as he pulls Eddie by the hand out the door to their car, “You’re lucky you’re cute,”

Eddie only grins, letting himself be towed along.

my husband gave me these numbers! so this is based on my own love for my husband and his strong arms and shoulders that make me 🥵 when i go to the gym with him lolol