#stevie scribbles

[catspores]

I realized I never post any art that gives glance to my AU other than Yuri Fag Slop so here's a doodle

[catspores]

I'm a huge fan of the alien cat thing btw

mspaint dodles 4 today

[purplepri]

It's been running around my head the idea of Eddie and Wayne inheriting a house from like, a distant aunt or something, and then they move to a distant small town

It's nothing fancy, actually pretty much the opposite, what with it being abandoned for some time. The lawn is overgrown, the roof is falling, the plumbing is shit, but it's theirs and nobody can take it away from them.

They start working pronto, with Wayne assessing what they'd need to make it somewhat liveable until they could make it a true home. He sends Eddie on his way to the hardware store, where two bored employees were behind the counter.

Eddie nods at them, and grabs everything Wayne put on the list that he can find, then goes to the cashier to pay.

He smiles at the guy, who's looking at him a little wide eyed. Maybe he's never seen a metalhead before. He eyes the name tag pinned to his (very form fitting, very flattering) shirt.

"So, Steve. There's some stuff I couldn't find in store, where could I buy them?"

The guy clears his throat.

"Can I see what you're missing?" Eddie gives him the list, some of it crossed out. "Yeah, we can order it for you, but it may be a while until it's here ."

"Eh, I don't mind. My uncle and I just moved in, we're fixing up a great-great aunt's house, just down the street. I think it's okay for now, with what I have. I'll just order in and pay for what I already got."

Steve rings him up, throwing some discreet looks at him, then turning away and blushing lightly. Eddie finds him adorable.

"So, that house looks a lot run down, do you guys need a hand?" Steve says while giving Eddie his receipt. Eddie smiles.

"We certainly wouldn't mind a little help. Look, here's my number." He pulls Steve's hand closer to his, snatches a pen from the holder and scribbles down his number. "Bye, Stevie."

Eddie winks before walking to the door. He doesn't hear Steve answering a trembling bye, nor Robin's (his co-worker and best friend) slapping his shoulder.

"Steve."

"I know, Robin."

"Steve!"

"I know, Robin!"

"You're a disaster with any type of construction work!"

"I fucking know, Robin!"

She looks at him.

"You're a lost cause, doofus."

"... I know, Robin..."

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Hawkins High Hotties

Written for the @steddiemicrofic challenge, April 2025 edition

Prompt: score, 351 words

Rated: E

Tags: Explicit sexual content; Nudity; Established relationship; Awkward sexual situations; Idiots in love

Notes: Everything is going under the cut bc we're jumping right in.

“You have lube?” Eddie asks. Steve moans against his mouth, cock twitching in his hand.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, gesturing at his nightstand. “Top drawer.”

The drawer reveals three titty magazines, some candy wrappers, assorted knick-knacks, and …

“Hey, what’s this?” Eddie pulls the dog-eared notebook out, frowning at the cover. “Hawkins High Hotties?”

Steve stops moaning.

“Shit, give it here!”

He tries to snatch the book, but Eddie dodges and skips to the other side of the room, dick jumping merrily. The pages are filled with pictures of freshmen and seniors from years long past. Noticeably male freshmen and seniors, accompanied by several columns of notes.

“Hair, eyes, body ...” Eddie squints at the faded pages. “Charme, humor… Is this a fucking scoring system?”

There’s a scale of five hearts next to each category, some filled in with pink marker and some empty.

On the bed, Steve groans into his pillow. “It was Carol’s idea. I just helped her with the ratings.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Remind why you thought you were straight again?”

Steve lowers the pillow to glare at him. His face is as pink as the marker. Eddie gasps in surprise.

“Shit, am I in here? Am I a Hawkins High Hottie?”

“You’re an asshole,” Steve grumbles, but he sits up and pats the empty spot on the mattress. “Page twenty-seven.”

And there he is, face a little rounder, hair a little shorter.

“We had a small disagreement,” Steve murmurs, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I see that,” Eddie grins. The color of the marker doesn’t match, so it’s glaringly evident that someone completed the scales at a later point. Someone who was so angry they scribbled over the lines of the empty hearts in their hurry to fill them all in.

“Aw, Stevie,” Eddie gushes, kissing the top of his head. “I knew you were a fan all along.”

“Whatever.” Steve rolls his eyes, plucking the book from his hands and pressing him back into the pillows. “How about we continue where we left off? If you do well, I might still find room for an extra column.”

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Day 24 for @steddie-spooktober, Pumpkin. I'll just finish this hellish month and then write all the good Halloween-y stuff when people already look forward to Christmas. There.

"Oh my god. That's Eddie Munson!"

Steve's eyebrow did that treacherous twitch. Here we fucking go again.

Robin just snickered. "Oh wow. That's like what, the fifth one today?" She didn't even look sorry for Steve, the traitor! She just kept making the coffee order, creating a lovely heart in the milk foam.

The woman who ordered the coffee didn't even bother to try and whisper to her friend. She was squealing and pointing at the unsuspecting rock star who had earphones over his head. "What do you think he's reading? It must be something dark. He has a reputation, you know."

Another twitch in Steve's eyebrow, but he was a professional. It was fine. He could do his job even when annoyed. Maybe.

Robin flipped the whiteboard with their seasonal specials. The other side revealed a meticulously prepared game of Eddie Munson-themed bingo. "Wanna play, Steve?"

He scowled at the board. All of those were classics, the stupid shit people say when they meet a rock star like Eddie Munson.

He took an erasable marker and scribbled X next to the questions, comments and other atrocities he managed to catch.

I wonder if he'll show me that special tattoo if I ask nicely. Check.

I heard he's unforgettable in bed. Check.

People say he has a...you know. A piercing down there. Check.

I don't believe the rumors. A guy like that can't be taken for long. He was made to sleep around. Check.

I wonder what he's drinking. Probably something dark and bitter. Mmm, how mysterious!

"Bingo!" whispered Robin. "Now, as per the rules of this humble establishment, once we have a bingo, you get to go there and be a bitch. Do your worst, oh platonic soulmate of mine. I'll be watching."

Who was Steve to deny Robin one of her favorite hobbies? He fluffed his hair and re-applied his lip oil, arranged some pastries on a kitten-shaped plate and made his way to Eddie Munson.

Eddie was lost to the world, but there was a familiar pattern in Steve's footsteps, one that reverbated through the wooden floor. In a second, Eddie had dropped his book and gave Steve the widest smile. One that he couldn't even conjure up on stage. This smile was only for Steve, and Steve fucking hoped the women noticed that.

Eddie made grabby hands at him, pulling him down into a quick kiss. "Is your shift over, Stevie? Can we go?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah, two more hours to go. Ish. Are you sure you don't want to wait for me home? You must be tired."

"Tired?! Pffft. I mean, yeah, but I want to spend time ogling my boyfriend when he's at his sexiest - covered in flour and sugar. And speaking of sugar..." He glanced at the plate. "Is that for me?"

Steve laughed and set the plate in front of him. "Honestly? Even if it wasn't, those doe eyes of yours would persuade me in a second. But yeah. It'll be Halloween soon, and I was testing out some spooky cookies. Do you like pumpkins?"

Eddie gasped and clutched his heart. "Do I?!"

Steve kissed Eddie on the top of his head and put his earphones back on. In a few seconds, Eddie was back in his own world, book, music and cookies.

In a corner of his eye, Steve saw the two young women, speechless. Robin was serving them their coffees, giddy with anticipation. She'd prepared them in to-go cups, just in case.

Steve stood in front of them, flipped his hair and smirked. "Well, ladies. You've had many questions or guesses, and I'm happy I can answer them. You know. To give you some peace of mind" He nodded to Robin. "The list, Rob?"

Robin glanced at their bingo board. "I wonder what he's reading!" she read out.

Steve nodded and returned to the frozen guests. "The book to end all books. That's what Eddie calls the...uh. Tolkien bible thingy. Silmarillion." He pronounced it gery carefully. "He reads it to me sometimes, when I can't sleep. Works like a charm." He might have smirked at the blush creeping up the woman's face. "Next."

Robin saluted him. "Special tattoo?"

"He won't show it, I made him promise he'd no longer get arrested for public indecency. Besides, it's only me that gets to see it. Next."

Robin fake gagged. "Is he unforgettable in bed?"

"Sure is. He talks to my chest hair. I think they're a couple."

Robin gagged again. "Why...ladies, get better questions! That piercing down under?"

Steve snickered. "Very real. Very...effective." He sneaked a glance at Eddie. Sexy and charismatic, yes, but more importantly warm, happy and home.

In a sing song voice, Robin got to the next point. "Is he really taken?"

"Take a guess," Steve winked at them. Or at least tried to, because the customers were already halfway out of the door with their coffee cups, and a very generous tip left on the counter.

"Aw," muttered Robin. "Shame, I thought these two would last longer. It's been ages since someone lasted the full Munson reverse bingo."

Steve laughed and helped her clean the table. "Would a pumpkin cookie console you?"

"Only if I don't have to hear about your bedroom rituals ever again," she said and reached for a cookie. "Or at least until the end of the shift."

[catspores]

I FORGOT I DID A CATREY BECAUSE OF THIS CONVO

He's the type of cat that would stand on its hind legs exactly once in front of you while you were alone, go back to normal and never do it again tbh

What if benry but cat 👀

Brewed by members of the xen den discord @catspores @untitled-moth

Also shout-out to my early fandom cat Hlvrai

(I'm also loving the disign I made for vet Tommy I based it off my cosplay)

[munsonsmixtapes]

The Prophecy

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

After recommending a movie to you, Steve invited you you over to watch it with him and to his surprise, you agree.

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I have no idea why I never posted it.

Based on “The Prophecy” by Taylor Swift because that song is Steve.

Steve would be the first to admit that his sex life is nothing but vanilla. He’s always on top and always so sweet and gentle. But now he’s starting to wonder if that’s the problem. If that’s the reason why women don’t seem to want anything more than a one night stand.

He doesn’t get it. He used to be King Steve and now he can’t even get a call back? What the fuck is that about? He goes on a date almost every night and still somehow the only action he gets is with his hand.

The “you suck” side of Robin’s board is so full that she had to get another one and what started as a harmless joke has now made Steve start to think badly about himself. He used to have so much confidence and now it’s withering away bit by bit with each rejection.

He thinks all hope is lost until you walk in to Family Video. You’re all smiles as you ask him for a suggestion and he’s convinced it’s all a prank. It’s going too well if he’s being honest. You’re laughing at his jokes and genuinely seem interested in what he’s recommending. He’s now wondering if Robin put you up to this so he’d stop complaining to her about being single.

He decides it doesn’t matter and that he’s going to play along because you’re pretty and now he’s following you around the store like a lost puppy, holding a large stack of tapes that you’ve handed to him. Normally, he hates when people treat him like he’s their personal shopper but he’s going to let you do whatever you damn well please. You might as well tell him to jump because he’ll ask how high.

“Is this one any good?” You ask, holding up a tape to him and he audibly gasps. He didn’t think anyone hadn’t seen the movie so the fact that you haven’t is genuinely shocking to him.

“You’ve never seen the Princess Bride?” He’s acting like he just witnessed you commit a crime. Sure, you’ve heard of the movie and listened to people rave about it, but there’s something about it that turns you off.

“No,” you shake your head and Steve plucks the VHS from your hand and heads over to the counter with you following him.

“I can’t allow that. You’ve gotta watch it. It’s one of the best movies of all time. So, I’m renting it to you.”

“Well, maybe we can watch it together.” Are you…flirting? He hasn’t been flirted with in so long that he’s having a hard time telling whether it’s that or you’re just being friendly.

“Y-yeah. I’ve got whole movie theater in my basement. We can watch it there.” That’s become his make out spot when everyone found out about skull rock, but this time, he just wants to watch a movie with you.

“It’s a date,” you glance at his name tag to get his name. “Steve. Can I call you, Stevie?”

“You can call me anything you want.” He internally cringes at his words, but you seem so into it that he can’t possibly take them back.

“Well, I’m y/n, but you can call me anything you want.” The line completely goes over his head as all he can focus on is your name. He’s heard so much about you and now that he can put a face to a name, he finally understands.

You’re new to Hawkins and it’s clear that you’re the talk of the town as everyone seems to want a chance to either be you or under you. And he can see why. You’re sweet and very easy on the eyes. You’re probably the most stunning woman he’s ever seen and you’re flirting with him? He’s wondering if this is some sort of cruel prank.

You set your purse on the counter then pull out a notebook and pen from it before setting them both on the counter in front of him. “Here, write down your address and I’ll write down my number and you can call me whenever you’re available.”

He’s scribbling down his information so quickly that he’s afraid you can’t read it. But you read over the words without a word then scribble down your number before ripping off the piece and handing it to him. You then put your things back into your purse before pulling out some cash to pay for your rental.

“Oh, he’s always available. How does tonight sound?” Robin has inserted herself into the conversation and Steve really wishes she hadn’t. He can get a date all by himself thank you very much.

“Stop helping me,” he whispers to her and he really hopes you can’t hear him.

“Tonight is perfect,” you smile and Steve swears he’s already in love with you. “Call me when you get off?”

“Oh, he’ll be getting off, alright,” Robin says under her breath and Steve is quick to elbow her in the stomach.

“Seriously, stop,” he turns to her to give her a glare and you honestly just find their whole dynamic to be funny, like siblings. Steve slides the VHS across the counter to you along with your change and as soon as you’re gone, he’s going to let Robin have it.

They’re so engrossed in their conversation that they haven’t even noticed that you’ve left your purse. The bright pink thing is sitting there in front of them they’re not even aware, too caught up in their silly conversation.

“I’m helping you get laid and this is how you repay me?” She asks, leaning against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t need your help,” he tells her as he heads over to the cart of returns to put them away and Robin follows.

“Clearly you do. Or else I wouldn’t have had to step in.”

“I was fine. I’ve still got it.” He honestly doesn’t know how he even got a date with you since he almost always flounders now. Maybe this will be the one that finally sticks.

“Good for you, dingus, you scored a date with the hottest woman in town. Maybe this time I’ll actually be able to put a tally in the “you rule” column.”

Robin knows that it’s a cruel joke to make when he’s so sensitive about the whole thing, but she can’t figure out why. Even thought hasn’t been and will never be attracted to him, she totally understands the appeal. He’s sweet and funny and much more intelligent than people give him credit for. She doesn’t know why he can’t seem to find someone to settle down with when that’s really all he wants.

She knows he’s not as happy as he lets on, that he’s much more lonely than he tells people he is. That he always goes out with his friends or is over at her house because his is far too big to be alone in.

That’s why he’s always got a girl in his bed so he won’t be going to sleep alone, but that’s how he always wakes up as they always leave him before he’s awake.

It’s not fair, she thinks. That everyone has seemed to have found his person but not him. He’s such a fucking catch so it just doesn’t make sense. She’s really hoping that maybe you’ll be the one.

“Fuck off,” he shoves her away with a laugh. He’s being a good sport about the whole thing, at least that’s what everyone thinks. No one knows that sometimes he’ll go home and have a good cry in the shower because of how alone he feels. And he feels so fucking pathetic for it, but it's the only way he knows how to cope.

The bell above the door jingles, signaling that a customer has entered the store. Steve and Robin turn to see Dustin carrying a stack of VHS tapes he's going to return. He's got a bright smile on his face as usual as he makes his way over to the counter where Steve meets him.

“Everyone’s coming over tonight to watch Star Wars if you guys wanna join,” Dustin says as Steve returns the movies to the system.

“I’ll be there, but Steve has a date,” Robin replies, patting Steve on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner.

“Right, with your hand, a sock, and a bottle of lotion, just like every night?” Dustin is wearing a knowing look and Robin is grimacing in disgust while Steve’s cheeks turn bright pink.

“No,” Steve glares. “With a girl. We’re going to watch the Princess Bride.”

“What’s her name?” He’s asking in a way that makes it seem like he doesn’t believe Steve, but he does. Dustin just likes to give him shit any chance he gets.

“Y/n.” Steve’s tone is smug and Dustin scoffs in response because now he really doesn’t believe him. There’s no fucking way that he scored a date with you of all people. Maybe back in his “King Steve” days, but definitely not now.

“Y/n as in y/n l/n? No way dude. She’s way out of your league.” Dustin is laughing now as if he’s just heard the most funny joke.

“Gee, thanks, Henderson.” Steve grabs the tapes now that he’s put them back in the system, then turns his back, heading for the break room because it’s time for his thirty. He doesn’t have time for this.

He can hear the two of them still yapping as he closes the door. He reaches for his punch card, punching that he’s on his break then grabs his lunchbox from the fridge before sitting down at the table with a sigh.

“She gave him her number and everything. And let me tell you, she’s even hotter than they say.” Robin had never seen you in person until tonight and she totally understands why everyone is head over heels for you.

“Don’t believe me?” She asks, eyeing the purse on the counter that you had apparently left.

“This could be anybody’s,” Dustin glares at her just as you enter the store again. All of the air is sucked out of his lungs as he’s come to the realization that you are in fact real.

“Totally forgot my purse,” you tell Robin with a little laugh as you grab the thing from the counter, slinging it over your shoulder. You then turn in Dustin’s direction, staring at him with your signature bright smile. “And who might you be?” You ask, and Dustin’s mouth goes bone dry as he looks up at you. You really are hotter than they say.

“D-“ he clears his throat before trying to introduce himself again. “Dustin.”

“Dustin,” you repeat and his name sounds so angelic coming from your mouth. “That’s cute. Well, it was nice to meet you Dustin and I'll see you, Rob,” you wave at her from over your shoulder like you’re old friends and yeah, she’s going to be thinking about that for a very long time.

You flee the store yet again and Dustin’s eyes are following you as Robin opens a magazine, staring down at the page to hide her blushing cheeks. He’s trying to figure out how he can become four years older while Robin is crossing her fingers that you’re also into girls.

They both know it’s pathetic, especially since you’re going out with Steve tonight, but they can’t help it. There’s just something about you that draws people to you, like they’re all sailors being lured to their deaths and damn if that isn’t a good way to go.

It’s the way you carry yourself, as if you don’t have a care in the world. And you don’t. You just go around with all of that confidence and maybe that’s why everyone either envies or wants you. You never pay attention to that, though.

None of them truly know you and they don’t care to either. You’re just something pretty to look at, someone who will look good on their arm, but the second they get you into bed or even hang out with you with everyone watching, they’ll leave you in the drop of a hat. Because really, all they want is for you to make them look good.

But Steve? He actually treated you like a person. He wasn’t falling all over you, just genuinely trying to help you find a movie. You’re not usually one to randomly ask someone out, in fact, the whole thing made you super nervous. But he was so eager to agree and that made you feel like your usual self again.

You've heard a lot about Steve. You know his reputation and how he's very popular with the ladies, so you're surprised that he's available on a Saturday night. You figured that someone else would have already snatched him up and put a ring on it. You're both about that age now so it's honestly surprising that he's single. How has no woman in Hawkins come to their senses and married this man? You suppose you should be grateful since you're the lucky woman he's invited over tonight.

Steve exits the break room as soon as his break is over still thinking about you and how he still can't believe how you actually asked him out. The prettiest girl in Hawkins. Maybe he really does still have game.

He makes his way over to Robin feeling more confident than he has a long time. She's scribbling something down in a notebook and he lets out a deep sigh. He was really hoping that she would have gotten bored of that stupid game by now. But apparently not.

As always, his love life has just become a joke to everyone. Because it's just so funny that poor Stevie can't get a date. He'll die alone while everyone else will end up with someone. That's just his fate, he thinks.

The rest of the night goes by so slowly. It's almost painful for Steve to look at the clock, watching the minutes tick by at a glacial pace. He has never been so eager to go home, actually wanting to be there for the first time in a long time.

He's so close to asking Robin to close up for him because he just realized he doesn't have anything to eat or drink besides shitty beer and a pizza that's been in his freezer since he was a kid. But he decides that he'll just hurry to the store on his way home because he's already had her close for him more times than he can count.

"Would it offend you if I picked out your outfit for tonight? Because no offense, Steve, but this,” Robin refers to his outfit. "Is just not going to cut it.”

“Gee, thanks, Rob.” He's already nervous enough and doesn't need Robin making him second guess what he's going to wear even though he was already going to anyway.

“I'm just saying, would it kill you to switch it up every once in a while?”

“Are you of all people seriously trying to give me fashion advice right now?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against the counter, fixing Steve with a glare. He doesn't actually mean it, he just suddenly feels a lot of pressure about tonight and he's taking it out on her.

"Nothing, I'm just nervous, alright?" He runs a hand through his hair and just by the look on his face, she can see that he's telling the truth.

"Thought you didn't get nervous." She's smiling smugly now and Steve really doesn't appreciate it.

He ignores her and rounds the counter, making his way over to the door, turning the sign to signify that the store is now closed. He's now counting the minutes until he's able to go home, actively watching the hands on his watch tick, tick, tick by.

"I haven't done this in a while, alright?" He asks as he locks the door. "I'm a little rusty."

"A little?” She scoffs and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Alright a lot.”

“You need to relax. It’s just a date.” But it’s not, not to Steve. He thinks this could actually be something and he hopes he doesn’t blow it this time.

“So are you getting out of here or what?”

“What?” The question genuinely catches him off guard. He didn’t think she’d actually want to close for him since she’s done it so many times in the past.

“I can hold down the fort. Go get the girl, Steve.” He smiles widely, before pressing a kiss to Robin's cheek before hurrying out the door to his car. For once, he actually thinks he has a chance and he’s totally going to take it.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

I’m afraid I’m never getting that one nerd ani/stevie req from the depths 😔

- 🐇

PAIRING: stephen glass x f!reader

FLUFF ❦

Late afternoon's friday. It's this day when STEPHEN GLASS finally gave in and laid his head down on his work desk with a tired sigh. He’s been buried in paperwork and equations for hours, scribbling away like some man possessed, like a damn hamster in a cage. So it was just a matter of time when exhaustion would slowly took over.

But still, let's get this straight, he really didn't mean to fall asleep—he really didn't—and before he knew it, he was out, snoring lightly against the pile of notes.

Minutes passed, maybe hours..hes not really sure, before the realization hit in. He fell asleep. At work. During his work. He suddenly jerked awake within a heartbeat. Hands fumbled in panic as he frantically searched the desk, knocking over a pen and a pile of papers in the process.

“Shit, shit, where are they?” He muttered to himself, hands desperately grasping at the clutter.

While he was panicking, you were walking proudly through the hallway, before crossing to the right. When you found yourself before these doors, you leaned against the doorframe of his small office room. A smile curled your lips, faint but warm. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t find my glasses!” Stephen's voice was strained, a hint of embarrassment bleeding through. “I—goddammit, where are they?!”

He stumbled to his feet, knocking into his chair, letting our a painful groan, barely catching himself before his head slammed into the wall. His eyes squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights, the edges of everything being a disgusting blur.

You stepped into the room, amused yet concerned, watching your overworked, adorable man. You offered him a soft smile, eyes softening at the sight of his ruffled hair and the slight panic that overtook him.

“You’re looking for these?” you asked gently, holding up his glasses between your fingers.

He froze, a relief and frustration rushing through him. He looked at you through his blurred vision “How did you—”

You raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the bathroom. “You left them in the bathroom, sweetie. And, you know, I couldn’t let you struggle with your favorite pair.”

Stephen blinked again, still disoriented. “I don’t—what?”

You giggled, slipping past him towards the bathroom. With slow, measured steps, you carefully cleaned his glasses under the warm water. It was almost like you were performing some kind of surgery—delicate, precise, and thoughtful.

Stephen on the other hand leanped gainst the doorway, watching you with a grateful expression. He could feel his heart do a flip and swell as he took in the sight of you, so effortlessly loving, so kind.

After a few moments, you finished cleaning his glasses and carefully tiptoed over to him. Of course, he was still standing there, blinking rapidly as if trying to make sure his brain and his body were on the same page.

“You want me to put them on for you?” you asked softly.

He chuckled nervously, face flushed. “I’m not an invalid, you know.”

But despite his straight reaction, there was a softness in his eyes, something only you could see. With gentle movement, you gently placed his glasses on his face, fingertips grazing his temple, sending a warm shiver through him.

You grinned up at him, and before he could react, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips, "There," you said softly, "all better."

His eyes softened when his gaze moved down at you. His heart race, not just because of the exhaustion and relief, but because of the overwhelming amount of love he felt for you in this simple moment.

Stephen couldn't really help himself any longer and leaned in closer, planting a second kiss on your lips. Although it was deeper this time, as if he was trying to communicate everything he couldn’t put into specific words.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured, pulling you into him

You rested your head against his chest, letting his arms envelop your waist. "I’m just doing my job, babe."

He chuckled; a small, a little breathless sound. "Well, yu’re my favorite part of the job."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake

[steventhusiast]

STWG prompt 18/4/24

prompt: the beemer

pairing/character(s): steddie

-

"I didn't see your van outside, you need a ride home?" Gareth asks as everyone's packing up their dice sets.

Eddie looks up from scribbling notes down about important character actions with a hum, and notices that the concerned look on Gareth's face is mirrored by Jeff and Freak.

The freshmen members of the club aren't interested, whispering excitedly amongst themselves about something that will probably cause Eddie problems at their next session. (He catches some complaints about biking home too. Losers.)

"What? No, no, don't worry man." He assures with a smile, and goes back to his notes. Steve's picking him up today. They have a date. Which, sure, he's been on a few official dates with Steve now, but they still make him so... jittery and excited.

He shakes his head at the half-finished page of his notebook and readies his pen. He can't forget that Mike now has a bag of holding, so he writes that down and then closes the notebook and nods to himself, satisfied.

When he looks back up his bandmates are still staring at him in concern.

"What?"

"You literally never leave your van at home." Jeff points out, and then Freak adds on:

"You call it your child sometimes."

"Hey. Pac-Van is a she, thank you very much." Eddie says, "But seriously, it's fine. I just got a ride this morning and he's picking me up too."

He hasn't gotten round to telling them about him and Steve yet. He knows they'll take great pleasure in making fun of him getting with a jock. You know, because of all those rants he likes to go on at the lunch tables about said jocks... Whatever.

"From Wayne?"

"No." He rolls his eyes at the questioning and shoves his stuff into his backpack, then makes a quick decision. Fuck it, "I promise I'll be fine, you big babies. Harrington's a good driver."

"Harrington?!" They all ask in sync, and that gets the attention of their newer recruits, who are still chattering away. Their heads all snap over to them.

"Why're you talking about Steve?" Mike asks, looking vaguely disgusted. Dustin elbows him in the side.

"Don't worry your angsty little head about it, Wheeler." Eddie says with a grin, and then finally picks up his backpack, "Now I have places to be and people to see so I trust you all to leave this room as you found it? I gotta go."

And with that he leaves the room, ignoring Freak's voice from behind him.

"I thought he was just giving you a ride home."

He makes it to the parking lot just as the beemer pulls in, and finds a smile appearing on his face at the sight. Because he's feeling dramatic, he does a wild little wave at the car. He can't see Steve yet, but he knows that made him chuckle, or at least smile.

"Hey, taxi for Munson?" Steve yells out of his window as he slows the car to a stop, and Eddie's smile widens.

"Oh, we're roleplaying tonight, are we?" He asks as he walks around to the passenger side and gets in. He's pretty sure Steve rolls his eyes at him, but he's also pretty sure he's doing it in a fond way. Hopefully.

Steve doesn't drive off immediately, a glint of something intense in his gaze as he looks at Eddie. He's leaning toward Eddie a little too, and having Steve Harrington's full attention on him is not something Eddie's used to yet, so an unbidden blush appears on his cheeks.

"Good day?"

"Great day, Stevie."

"Good. Can't wait to hear about it over dinner." Steve nods, and his eyes flicker down to his lips for a second, and then he leans out of Eddie's space to start the car up again.

Right. Public space. Homophobic small town. Yadda yadda, kissing can wait until they're safely indoors.

Eddie's too busy fiddling with the radio as the beemer drives off to notice Freak, Gareth and Jeff stood staring at the car from in front of the school doors, perplexed looks on their faces, as the freshmen run over to the bike racks. But he'll definitely be hearing all about their thoughts at band practice.

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

❤︎ first meeting ❤︎

❤︎ Dean x Salem ❤︎

Warnings: mentions of Bobby Singer's ghost, language.

Word Count: 1,619

Dean met you in a salt circle.

Not the usual kind—the hastily scribbled, panic-drawn kind he’d seen smeared across motel carpet or church floors. No. This one was art. Chalked with purpose. Candlelit. Scattered with herbs he didn’t recognise and crystals that hummed when he stepped too close.

He didn’t mean to find you. The EMF had been going haywire two towns over, and the lore led him here—to a crumbling Victorian at the edge of nowhere, dripping with ivy and bad vibes. He kicked the door in expecting a demon.

What he got instead was you.

You didn’t even flinch. Just sat there in the middle of that salt circle, cross-legged on velvet, fingers stained lilac and glowing faintly in the candlelight. The room smelled like lavender and danger. Something heady and sweet, like sugar and sin. You were sucking on one of those old parma violet candies, purple tongue curled around mischief.

And you smiled at him.

Like you knew him. Like you’d been expecting this exact moment all along.

Dean raised the barrel of his gun before he even thought about it. “You summoning something nasty in here, sweetheart?”

You blinked once. Tilted your head. Twirled your amethyst ring like it was a nervous habit—or a hex. “Depends,” you said, voice syrupy and slow. “You here to stop me or help me?”

He should’ve put a bullet in the chalk. Doused the room in holy water. Walked away and never looked back.

But every single candle in the room bent toward you—just slightly. Like the flames wanted to be closer. Like they belonged to you.

And Dean—hunter, skeptic, man who’d seen too much—stood there, heart skipping a beat like it had forgotten how to handle pretty and dangerous at the same damn time.

He licked his lips. Lowered his gun a fraction.

“I don’t help witches.”

You grinned like you knew he would say that. Like you liked it.

“Good thing I’m not just a witch, then.”

He didn’t have a comeback for that. Not one that made any sense. His brain was already molasses.

You stood up slowly, like the air moved different for you, all velvet and violet and fuck me. You stepped over the salt like it never held you, and he realised—too late—that it didn’t.

You weren’t trapped in the circle. You’d drawn it for protection. From whatever else was coming.

And now you were walking straight toward him, sugar and danger and Stevie Nicks under your breath.

Dean swallowed hard. Told himself to move. Didn’t.

You stopped just close enough that he could smell your perfume—lavender and smoke and something sweet. You looked up at him through lashes spiked in shadow, smile lazy, dangerous.

“Something tells me you’re gonna be fun to hex,” you whispered.

Dean’s jaw clenched.

God help him—he wanted to see what that felt like.

Dean didn’t move as you stepped closer. Just watched you through narrowed eyes, jaw tight, whole body coiled like he was expecting something to lunge at him.

But you didn’t touch him.

You just tilted your head… and looked right into his eyes.

Not at them. Into them. Like you were reaching in and sorting through the mess of him—past the leather and scars and bravado, past the guns and the ghosts and the whiskey-worn edges. You didn’t blink.

Then—just as suddenly—you looked past him. Right over his shoulder.

Dean frowned.

You tilted your head, slow and thoughtful, your brows pinching slightly like you were listening. To what, he didn’t know.

He turned to look behind him—instinct more than anything—but the room was empty. Just shadows and incense smoke.

He looked back. You were still watching that same spot. Still listening. And that? That made something crawl down the back of his neck.

Then you looked at him again. Soft. Crooked smile. No games in it. “You’re surrounded by some beautiful people, you know.”

Dean blinked. Scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Cut that out.”

“Cut what out?”

“That spooky Miss Cleo shit,” he snapped, shaking his head. “I’m not buying it.”

You shrugged. “I’m not selling anything.”

“Right.” He dragged a hand down his jaw, exhaled through his nose. “You got a name? Or do all witches just answer to trouble now?”

You smiled wider. Didn’t rise to the bait. “Do you always come in this guarded, or do those walls ever come down?”

Dean smirked. That cocky, don’t-look-too-close smirk he wore like armour. “You always this nosy, or just when someone doesn’t fall at your feet?”

“Touché,” you said, sweet as sugar, then stuck out your hand like this was a meet-cute and not a mid-hunt standoff. “I’m Salem.”

Dean barked a laugh. Loud. Sharp. Disbelieving. “Of course you are.”

You raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at you—really looked—and the thought she’s hot for a witch crept in before he could stop it. He scowled. Internally. Jesus, get it together, Winchester.

You watched him with that unreadable, almost fond expression, like you could see every thought he didn’t say out loud.

And maybe you could.

Damn witch.

"I'm Dean."

You didn’t flinch when he said it. Just stood there, patient and a little amused, like you knew what was coming next. Like you were waiting for it. Then you tilted your head again. Slightly to the left this time. Past his shoulder.

Dean’s smile faded.

You nodded. Softly. Then again. A little laugh slipped from your lips—short, surprised. Like someone had said something funny. Dean tensed.

And then you looked at him.

“He says you’re an idjit.”

Dean’s breath caught. Eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he covered it with a scoff and a glare. “What?”

You didn’t blink. Just tilted your head the other way, like you were trying to get a better listen.

Dean glanced behind him. Just shadows. Nothing. Still.

He looked back. “Who?”

You smiled. Like you’d been waiting for that question.

“Bobby,” you said, like it was obvious. “He says you’re an idjit. And—” you paused, looking over Dean’s shoulder again, then let out another soft laugh before meeting his eyes, “you should trust me. I, and I’m quoting here, ‘ain’t Rowena.’”

Dean froze. Everything in him stilled. Jaw locked, heart thudding once—hard. He looked around the room again, slower this time, scanning like maybe, just maybe, you weren't full of shit.

But the room was still empty. Still candles, still salt, still you. And you were watching him like you knew exactly what those names meant to him.

Dean cleared his throat. “That’s a hell of a guess.”

You raised your brows. “It wasn’t a guess.”

Dean looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you. All violet and velvet, sugar on your tongue and ghosts in your pockets. Pretty. Sharp. Dangerous. Useful.

Shit. He didn’t trust witches.

But right now? He wasn’t so sure you were one. And even if you were—Dean couldn’t deny it anymore. You were hot as hell. And you were talking to Bobby, right in front of him.

Fuck.

Dean still hadn’t moved.

You just smiled at him, like all this was normal. Like reading him like a book was your party trick and haunting him with the ghost of Bobby Singer was just Tuesday.

“Y’know,” you said, eyes dragging over him like you were cataloging something ancient and worn and deeply interesting, “your aura’s all… leather and fire and regret.”

Dean raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” You leaned in slightly, like you were telling him a secret. “And horniness. Can’t forget that.”

Dean choked. “Jesus.”

You just grinned. Popped the last of your candy into your mouth and rolled it between your teeth like a threat. “Not Jesus. Dean.”

That made his stomach flip. He hated that it did. He scowled again, which only made your smile soften.

“You’re not as hard to read as you think you are,” you murmured, gaze flicking briefly to his hands. “You wear everything you’ve lost like armour. And you hate that I can see it.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, because you weren’t wrong. And that pissed him off.

But instead of doubling down, you turned—spinning slowly, that violet corduroy swaying at your hips like the hem of some goddamn fairytale—and walked back toward your circle. You crouched again, trailing a lilac-stained finger over the salt, humming something under your breath that sounded like Fleetwood Mac filtered through static.

Dean watched you for a beat. Too long.

Then: “You always talk to ghosts mid-conversation?”

You looked back over your shoulder. “Only when they’ve got something to say.”

“And they always do?”

You nodded, dreamily. “Mmm. Especially around you. You’ve got that vibe. Haunted. Hot. Stubborn.” You paused, then added with a wicked little smile, “Daddy issues.”

Dean made a face. “Alright, I’m leaving.”

You laughed. Bright. Real.

But then your tone shifted—just a touch. You didn’t look at him as you said, “You should call me, y’know.”

He paused. Half-turning. “Why would I do that?”

You tilted your head, still facing the candles. “Because something’s coming. Something big. I don’t know when, but I’ll feel it. And when I do, you’ll want someone like me on your side.”

Dean frowned. “Someone like you?”

You finally turned back around. Walked toward him until you were toe to toe, and looked up at him with that lazy, lidded gaze that made his brain short out.

“Someone who sees what you won’t say. Who’ll be two steps ahead when the lore runs cold. Who can make the spirits talk. And—” you licked the sugar from your bottom lip, “someone who looks very good in violet.”

Dean swallowed. Hard.

You reached for his hand, traced your number on his palm with your fingertip like a sigil. Not a pen in sight. But he felt it.

Then you stepped back.

“Remember, I’m Salem,” you said again, voice silk and smoke. “Try not to miss me.”

And with that, you slipped back into your haunted greenhouse, the door creaking shut behind you.

Dean stood there a second longer. Then looked at his hand. Still warm. Still tingling.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind it.

Just something he couldn’t name.

And maybe—just maybe—the start of something he wasn’t ready for.

A/N: Broke my own heart writing Bobby into this, because I ADORE that man. Most girls be Sam or Dean girls... I be a Bobby girl. And honestly? Valid. I freaking love Salem so much. She's gonna absolutely torture Dean, with his witch-hating-ass, and we love to see it. Tell me what y'alls thought, pleaseeeee. All the love.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @0ccvltism @lyarr24 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl @blossomingorchids <3

[catspores]

skeletons stop being hard as fuck to draw challenge

anyways Skeleton Benrey for my AU

[goodkushnalchohol]

SOUND OF LOVE ‧₊˚ੈ steve rogers x fem!reader. smut / steve’s a little freaky / fresh out of ice cap / glazed donut ahh / maria hill mention / intentional use of lowercase / not proofread

there were many things you could be and most definitely should be doing right now, like completing those progress reports fury asked for last week, or doing a background check on tony's new intern that he wanted done two days ago, or maybe just returning your mom's call she's been so desperately wanting since you moved to manhattan a couple of weeks ago.

you could be doing all those things right now instead of sitting here, with steve, naming songs, movies and events he should catch up on if he wanted to fit in smoothly. you don't know why you found yourself here. you could've went home a long time ago, yet your feet had a mind of their own when they led you to the couch beside him two hours ago.

almost seven months ago, nick fury had been kind enough to drop another important task on you. mentor captain rogers. it was heavy at first, teaching a war veteran who was actually the same age as you all about the world and it's drastic changes since the 1940s. but as you got to know him and work with him and eat with him and see movies with him and go shopping with him, it got a whole bunch easier. yet not with your friends barking down your ear how handsome he was.

and it took every fibre in your being not to act upon that fact. because he was just handsome. he was sweet, and kind, and caring, and charming and all the right things, but you couldn't. your boss depended on you to take this seriously, and it would be unprofessional to do otherwise.

so about once every week, you do a run-down of all the new topics and learned and all the new topics he could learn, like right now.

"uhh... michael jackson! you should definitely know him, he's like one of the greats."

laying sprawled out on the couch of the S.H.I.E.L.D compound with your legs thrown over steve's lap was a lot more comfortable than you thought it would be. "I've heard of him, don't know much of his work though." steve responded, scribbling down the musicians name in his small notepad.

he sat at the bottom end of the sofa, rubbing an absentminded hand over your calf, waiting for you to name another as you held your phone over your face, searching through your playlists like a files room.

"do you know fleetwood mac? stevie nicks and all them?" you moved your phone slightly, peering at him as he shook his head, jotting down the band again. "god that's so upsetting." you muttered lightly, continuing scrolling through the lists of songs. he scoffed quietly, tipping the top of the screen down so you could see his face that was etched in confusion. "how so?"

you smirked at him, lifting your body up to lean against the couches armrest. "well it's just kinda sad how you've never heard such great music before, i mean... silver springs, the chain and dream are all fantastic songs that you have never even heard of, let alone listened to, so it's pretty clear you haven't found good music yet." he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head in disbelief, laughing as he did so.

"i've been here eight months with sam constantly giving me new sources of media to consume. trust me, I've found good music."

his confident expression almost made your knees weak, lucky you were sat across the sofa. "really? like what?" you challenged him, tilting your head to tease him, edging him on to take your bait. "nirvana, acdc, queen, the eagles, kate bush." he listed them off with ease, smiling at you while doing so. "any more?"

he pursed his lips, before nodding his head and continuing. "david bowie, radiohead, oasis, blur, the beatles, lauryn hill, metallica." your brows raised, and a surprised gaze played across your face. metallica. huh. you wouldn't have pictured him to like them. "what was that last one?" he smiled slyly at you, his fingers now following a steady flow of drawing spirals on your leg. "metallica?"

you nodded, folding your arms across your chest and gesturing to further explain. "yeah i like them, and i think they're music is a very different to what i know, i guess that's why i took an interest in them." you laughed at him slowly, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

"i like em too, what's your favourite song? mine would probably be enter sandman." steve hummed in agreement, stroking his chin in a train of thought. "master of puppets. i even learned it on guitar." his words made you scoff and your sure he gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned his head to look at you. "now what?"

you shook your head, grinning at him. "nothing! i just - didn't expect you to play the guitar is all. didn't know you had it in you." steve smiled at you, unaware of the heat pooling in your chest and in your stomach. dirty thoughts swirling in your mind, picturing his fingers playing with the strings of a guitar, then playing with your pussy like a fucking toy, having you however he wanted. it was disgusting, and the image of his hands drawing patterns into the fabric of your jeans right infront of you drove you insane.

it was vile. it was gruelling. it was sickening. it was - "well after i came out of the ice i had a lot of time to myself, y'know, recovering and stuff. so i taught myself how to play one of the best songs in the world." steve pulled you from your mind and you caught his eye, awaiting an answer. you stood abruptly, hoping to clear your mind in a new atmosphere. "come on." you spoke smoothly, walking past his body on the couch.

he followed soon after, catching up quickly. "where are we going?" the blonde asked, casting you a questioning look. you exhaled heavily, leading him farther away from the living area. "my office. you're in dire need of finding a better song to call 'best in the world.'" he snickered at you, figuring out the path to your office. "and you have music in there?"

"of course i do. cds upon cds upon cds of beautiful songs."

the office was cold, with metal filing cabinets against the walls and a large desk in the middle covered in stacks of papers and folders. dim light casted through windows from behind the table, so you moved to turn on the small desk lamp. "cozy" steve mumbled.

two large shelves on the wall held a large sum of cds and cassettes, all organised into alphabetical order. as you beelined for that, the large man found his way around your desk, picking through bundles of sheets and examining reports. you flicked through the abcs and found your way to the middle, finding your disc of choice.

'the only exception' - paramore.

"found it!" you spoke, voice echoing down the empty hallways of the building. you pull the cd to your chest while facing steve. he smiles fondly at you, leaning against the desk as you giggle to yourself. "paramore. one of the best bands to come out within the last few years." you hand him the cd case and let him examine it, reading the song names from the album typed on the back of the plastic. he dips his head in approval, flipping it back around to look at the cover.

you bite your lip in anticipation, hoping for him to be interested in it. "looks good. any songs in your favour that you want me to like?" he responds in a sincere tone. you nod, taking a step closer to him and turning the cd over one last time, pointing to the song. "the only exception. it reminds me of you for some reason."

"really?" he asks, glancing down at you with an expression you just can't make out. "hmm." you murmur quietly, before continuing. "i guess it's because you're one of the few people from work i like, and i mean actually like because i don't make friends with anybody here." you look up at him, and he'a still staring down at you with his strong blue eyes with a smirk playing across his mouth.

you both pause, standing in silence as his hand wraps around yours that previously gestured to the disc. your breath goes shallow as he stares, like he's debating something he shouldn't do. he opens his mouth to speak slowly, as it it's paining him to do so. "and that's it?" you nod carefully, keeping your mouth shut. "no other reason?" he swallows when you shake your head, his adams apple bobbing slightly and you try to ignore the dampness building in your core and his husk voice.

"well, there - there might be one other reason." you whisper, breaking eye contact and instead gazing out the window to avoid awkwardness. his brows furrow but his eyes don't leave your face for a second, and he prays you keep going. "go on."

his voice is needy, yet you don't want to admit it. not when this could ruin the sacred job fury gave you and absolutely tarnish all respect people have for you. but you can't. you cant go on for any longer without him. you want him so bad, and right now its clear steve wants you too. "what is it? please just tell me." his voice breaks and it comes out a little whimpered, and all you want to do right now is sit on his face until the only thing you hear are those sounds from underneath you.

jesus christ.

your hands find the collar of his shirt and you pull him down like a fucking starved woman. your lips meet in a clash of tongue and teeth, but it doesn't matter. there's a chance you won't ever have this again, so you're making it matter. your on your toes, his neck his craned to hard it looks painful, but he doesn't care. not when he's getting what he wanted since that first meeting.

his hands are splayed across the surface of your back, pushing you against his body like he'll never feel you again. your tongue slides across his lips, and he forces his mouth into yours - something you hadn't expected from captain fucking america.

those long, rough, calloused fingertips graze the fat of your ass, yet pull back quickly like he's dancing on the edge of impurity. you moan unintentionally into his mouth, making his hands grip your hips tightly and a pained "fuck." is muttered quietly. But you still hear it. steve grasps the nape of your neck, holding you against him like he needs it.

the sound of breathy exhales and deep groans echo down the hall, and you only hope no one came in to get last minute paperwork. you try to hear it, his laboured breathing and whimpered whines, you try to feel it, scraping your nails down his chest through his button up and grip his biceps harshly, yet nothing beats the taste of it. his sweet mouth working against yours, like he's savouring it, and you are too.

his knee presses between your legs, and you nearly cry out at the feeling of his muscled thigh. "please." you don't know what your begging for, but you need it now. you rock against his leg, pleasing the ache in your core. a hand makes it's way to the bulge in his jeans -

its fucking huge.

his body stutters with yours as you palm him slowly, and a soft groan bounces of the walls. "god - sweetheart, y-you're so good." his words go straight to your head and you almost feel dizzy, riding his thigh harder like a rabbit. he lifts your body up with ease, hands placed tightly on your waist as he places you on the desk.

theres a pause in the air as you both catch your breath, a piece of saliva connecting you two as you were before. his leg is still between your heat and your hand is still rubbing him slowly, like two teenagers fucking for the first time. his chest is rising and falling rapidly while you lean against it, and your eye catches the weekly mission report you're supposed to send fury tomorrow. "this is bad, this is so so bad." you glance at his concerned face, his head already thinking the same as you. "fury would kill us if he finds out." you whisper, head dipping lowly like a sad dog.

you're both still, yet the feeling of need still lingers in the air. "do we stop..? the farther we go the more likely he'll know and i -" his breath falters and bucks up into your hand as you press harder onto him. "shit. I don't want to stop." he says quietly, gazing into your eyes with such desperation you think you might cry.

you shake your head aggressively and your hands close around the back of his neck. "neither do i."

your lips trailed down his neck, sucking, biting and kissing all you can get your mouth on as his hands hold your thighs and he grinds against your hand. you exhale shakily when your other hands moves down to undo the buttons of his shirt, exposing more and more skin for you to get your hands on. when you get the last button, the shirt is gone immediately, thrown behind him somewhere as you bring both your hands to his chest and claw down it.

steve sighs in discontent when he loses the friction, but he grows more satisfied once your fingers find the hem of your top and pull it over your head, revealing your chest that's only covered in a bra. his tongue makes its way to your chest, licking and suckling all down your breasts.

you feel his growing tent and its urge for release, your hands just barely unclips his belt and he's already humping your hand, begging for your touch. he whimpers into your chest needily, practically having dry sex with your hand, you couldn't care less though, his mouth his hot and wet and it makes your cunt fucking drip.

his hips grinding against your hand speed up, yet you don't notice with the sounds of his moans ringing in your ears. "fuck, keep going, so beautiful sweetheart, you're so good, god."

both your jeans are still on, and he's blabbering over your tits, and it's so fucking hot. his work on your chest freezes and he lets out a guttural groan as his hips continue fucking into your hand while he comes, a large damp area spreading over his bulge. "shit." steve rogers, captain america, just came in his pants. and it was the most lewd, hot and sexiest thing you've ever seen.

you both catch your breath again, and your replaying that moment in your head over and over again to remember it well, because you will most definitely be thinking of it every time your hands are buried in your panties while you're a moaning mess.

steve swallows watching your face with slight embarrassment in his eyes. "i'm sorry, it's just uh.. it's been a while." he says slowly, a small awkward smile playing across his face. you giggle, rubbing soothing circle into his shoulder. "don't be sorry, that was so fucking hot."

a loud door bangs closed at the end of the hallway, startling you and steve. the following footsteps makes his head shoot up and look at you with wide eyes and an open mouth. "quick!" you utter quietly, jumping off the desk and pulling your shirt on over you head and fixing you hair.

steve takes longer, fumbling with the many buttons of his shirt and you know he won't look ready quick enough so you usher him behind the door, hoping whoever it is won't peer in as you sit at your table, pretending to be working.

the footsteps pause right at your door, knocking twice before opening it, and hiding steve from your view. you glance up, holding a pen over a page in a fake act, smiling at the person across from you. "maria! what are you doing here so late?" you question the woman, eyes following the sheets of paper in her hand. "hey, could ask you the same question." she says skeptically, looking at you with a funny look. "just dropping in some forms fury wants everyone to fill in, nothing special."

you nod along as she hands you the form, turning around swiftly and walking back out the door. "i'll see you tomorrow then, you too steve!"

©veluques - please do not copy or post my works on any other platforms!!

[firefly-party]

"You clean up nicely, Stevie"

cw: mentioned blood and gore | mafia/mob AU | steddie pre-murderhusbands relationship big thanks to @dapandapod for beta reading and improving my poor attempt to write sth

Steve Harrington is good at his job. He's quick, he is thorough and most importantly, he doesn't ask questions.

There's nothing that could shock him anymore. He's seen everything.

Steve doesn’t mind severed limbs, gore, blood and body fluids, sometimes creatively mixed in more ways than are pleasant to imagine.

He's used to it, and cleaning it is what earns him a nice living as a crime scene cleaner.

Or just... scene cleaner maybe.

He doesn't work with the police or authorities. No, his specialty lies outside the law, which means he arrives before a mess becomes a nuisance. He cleans until there is not a speck of blood left, until there is nothing to indicate that something happened there. Was there ever a crime committed if there is no crime scene?

The money's amazing by the way. Of course cleaning the remains is a shit job but if you add the hush money on top, well, ain't that a nice bonus.

Again, Steve doesn't ask questions. He doesn't care. It's none of his business.

–

Eddie's shoes are squeaking in the puddle of blood he tried and failed to not step into.

He flips the business card around and squints at the hurried scribble of a phone number that was added right under the name "Stevie".

He trusts Chrissy's background check.

They were in a dire need of a new guy after the previous one decided to catch a bullet with his face after snooping one time too many. 

Eddie looks up to the blood stained walls and ceiling and dials the number on the card.

"Hello?"

"Watergate Street 53", is all Eddie replies.

"How many?", Stevie asks.

"Uhm, five?"

"You sure? Might wanna go check again?", Stevie laughs into the phone.

Bitch.

"It's five." Eddie answers, annoyed.

There's a low whistle. "Alright, I'll be there in 20. Payment upfront. 50k."

Then the line goes dead. Eddie rolls his eyes, pockets his phone and looks around for a clean spot to sit while he waits.

–

It's exactly three hours and thirty two minutes later when Stevie empties his water bucket for the last time.

Eddie watches curiously as Stevie takes off the gloves, mask and safety glasses he arrived in. Eddie didn't mean to stick around but he's not trusting this new guy yet (he's also curious, sue him). 

His gaze turns into a stare when the other man pulls down the zipper of his squeaky yellow biohazard suit, throwing back the hood and running a clean hand through his sweat soaked hair. He has a strong jaw and long, mole dotted neck that Eddie just wants to taste.

Eyes wide, Eddie’s not able to hold back the sharp intake of breath as he watches in horror the moment Stevie's eyes lock with his and -

Fuck.

Stevie's lips curl into a smirk.

Eddie is so fucked.

[spaceycat]

Fic request where the reader asks Steve Rogers to draw her “like one of his French girls” 🤨

-🐇

white rabbit has returned, UH YES?? i think we all kinda glossed over the fact that steve was actually a really good artist? even though we only saw it for like 2 seconds, enjoy !!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

➶-͙ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝚒𝚝'𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: meet me in the hallway by harry styles (3:47)

✰ pairing: steve rogers x reader

✰ cw: fluffy, kissing, shared feelings, swearing

✰ word count: 0.6k+

✰ summary: reader finds out that her bestfriend steve can draw, and asks him to try and draw her. it soon leads to feelings shared.

✰ a/n: this is such a mood change from my usual posting of until dawn, enjoy regardless?? also fun fact i haven't watched titanic sooooo

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ 

༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ steve ☀︎

You were looking for something in Steve's drawers, it was normal for you to do so - you were bestfriends after all. You were searching when you accidentally bumped the drawer, books and journals falling to the floor. "Shit--" You'd mumble to yourself, crouching down to pick up the mess of books, that's when one caught your eye - a journal full of drawings. You never thought Steve was one to be the drawing type, always caught up in work with the Avengers or something of the sort. You'd pick it up, realising it was a journal dating back to his time in the war. As you flipped through the pages, you saw sketches of trains, landscapes, the occasional drawing of Bucky or Peggy. Your eyes eventually landed on one of a monkey dressed up in his Captain America outfit, a monkey on a unicycle on a tight rope? Why would he draw this.. that's when Steve's voice cut your thoughts.

"Hey-- you okay? I heard a thud.." You'd look over to him, standing up to face him. That's when his eyes caught you holding his sketchbook. "Uh-- yeah, I just knocked over some books and stuff.." "Where did you find that--" He'd walk over to you, grabbing the book from your hands. Looking up at you, expecting an answer. "I-- knocked it over.. like I said-- I-I never knew that you drew.. or that well for that matter." "That was a long time ago.." He'd close the book, placing it back onto the dresser. "Do you still draw?--" "I don't have much time to anymore, but yeah-- sometimes.." "Maybe.. drawing me will kickstart some artistic instincts.." "Oh-- no, I.. I shouldn't." "Oh c'mon, Stevie.. draw me like one of your french girls.." He looked at you confused, "..Titanic?" He raised a brow, "I-- what you seriously haven't watched Titanic? 'I'm flying, Jack'?" The quote made him look even more confused. "Titanic as in-- the ship?" "I'm surprised Sam hasn't shown you it.. c'mon, we'll watch it as you draw me."

Steve and you set up in the living room of his apartment - setting up snacks and drinks while you tried to find Titanic on his tv. That’s when you heard scribbling from beside you, you’d look over. Seeing Steve looking up at you then back to the paper.

“Hey— wait, I wasn’t ready.” You’d move beside him, looking at what he had drawn, it was a small sketch of you. “Oh..” You paused for a minute, “Steve this is really good—“ "Uh-- thanks.." He'd look at you, realising how close you two were. You'd grab the book from him - focusing on it so much so that you didn't notice how intently Steve was looking at you. "I am stealing this page once--" You'd look up at him, realising he was staring at you. "Uhm-- it's good." He'd grab it from you, closing it - placing it aside. "I want to try something.." He'd look at for you for a moment, "Can I kiss you?" That took you by surprise, "Steve I--" "Can I kiss you?.." He'd ask again, you'd nod. "Need a physical answer." "Yes." He'd lean foward, placing a hand to the side of your face. Placing a soft kiss to your lips, pulling back. You'd chase his lips, moving to kiss him again. Filled with passion and love, he pulled back for air. "So-- why the monkey?" "What?--" "The monkey you drew?" "Oh-- that was back during the war.. when I was just a statement piece, a show pony.." "Oh-- right, I.. I'm sorry." "Don't apologise, it wasnt your fault." He'd tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Are we gonna continue watching Titanic?" "Oh-- right."

ONE DOWN !!!

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part eight; final)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)(part seven) (ao3 link)

It was an “if” if Eddie would actually be discharged today, but now, after some more poking and prodding, he's finally on his way home with prescriptions for pain meds and physical therapy. 

Wayne helps him up the three creaky, beautifully familiar stairs into the trailer, and Eddie collapses onto the old, beautifully familiar couch the second he gets inside. The weary groan he lets out is only slightly over-dramatized. “I feel like an 80 year old man,” he complains, entire body sore and aching to the bone already. “Now I know how you feel.”

“Oi, I ain't that old,” Wayne protests. When Eddie snorts derisively, Wayne rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Alright, fine, so we both got creaky knees now. You, at least, will be young and spry again in no time, though,” his uncle tells him. “Just get some rest, old man.” 

Eddie heaves a great big sigh, takes another breath to steel himself, and then does just the opposite of that. 

“What did I just say?” Wayne mutters as Eddie moves to stand again. 

“I said I’d call Steve,” Eddie says. Steve had to go to work, but he'd told Eddie that morning to call him if he ended up making it home today. “I’ll dip out of work and come hang out, help you settle in, if you want,” Steve had said. 

Wayne offers, “I can call him for you.” 

“No, no, I got it,” Eddie insists, words broken by a grunt as he hauls himself back to his feet. “I can make it to the phone, Wayne, I'm not a complete invalid.”

“Alright.” Wayne raises his hands in defeat and backs off. He’s never been one to hover. “You just shout if you need me.” 

Eddie limps - slowly, painfully, with difficulty - to the phone on the wall by the tiny dining table they never use, the surface littered instead with unopened mail and haphazard papers scribbled with notes and reminders and important phone numbers. He leans heavily against the table as he paws through the piles trying to find a note of Steve's number. Eddie finds it buried deep, probably long since memorized by now before his memory got erased, but there it is: a notepad paper with Steve's name scrawled on it and two phone numbers written underneath, home and work. 

“Bingo.” Eddie grabs the paper, takes the phone off the hook, and dials the work number. 

The phone rings a couple times, and then: “Family Video. How can I help you?” 

“Hey, Stevie.” Eddie smiles at the sound of his voice, as if he hadn't literally just heard it only a few hours ago. 

“Eddie!” Steve's bored customer service voice brightens. “Are you home? How are you feeling?” 

“Yeah, I’m home. I’m alright. I mean, I’m bone-fucking-tired and feel about a million years old, but it's really really good to be back,” Eddie says honestly. He adds, “I’m under strict orders to rest, though - gonna be bored out of my mind, so I could use the company if you were serious about ditching work for me.” 

“Of course I was serious,” replies Steve. “It's a slow day today anyways.” 

Eddie grins. “Get your sweet ass over here then.” 

A smile is evident in Steve's voice too. “I'll be there in ten.” 

Eddie hangs up, tries his best to wipe this stupid lovesick grin off his face. He stumbles his way down the hall to his room next, flicking on some music from the cassette player on his dresser and looking around. His room is just as beautifully familiar as the rest of the trailer, not much changed from the way he last remembers it. The same music and D&D shit clutter his surfaces, the same posters clutter his walls. His bed is unmade, clothes litter the floor, same as always.

The only differences: his beloved electric guitar no longer hangs on the wall by the mirror (he was told, devastatingly, that she hadn't survived her trip to the Upside Down), and there are photographs he doesn't recognize taped up around the corners of that mirror. Eddie staggers over to get a closer look, only to first be momentarily jumpscared by his own reflection. His face is pale, eyes sunken, and his hair frizzes out in a greasy, tangled mess around his head, unwashed and unbrushed for who knows how long. Gross, but whatever. He manages to ignore his sickly appearance and inspects the pictures he had apparently deemed important enough to stick to the edges of his mirror. 

There are photos of Eddie smiling with Hellfire and his band and the kids, in large groups and small groups, with old friends he remembers and newer ones he doesn't quite. But what catches his attention the most is a photobooth strip of him and Steve. The first picture shows the two of them grinning, arms slung around each other’s shoulders; the second, a silly face photo, Eddie sticking out his tongue and Steve crossing his eyes; the third, Eddie giving Steve devil horns while Steve laughs; and the fourth- 

Eddie plucks the strip off the mirror, stumbles, so taken aback he trips over his own lame feet until he plops down heavily onto his bed, and he stares. He stares at the last image in the row, which depicts - clear as day and undeniably real, immortalized in ink on photo paper - Steve kissing Eddie, tender hand on his cheek, both of them smiling against each other’s lips.

He stares and he stares and he stares. And the longer he stares the more he can almost feel it, taste it, see the events of that photo strip playing out in his mind’s eye like a waking dream. Like a memory. 

~ 

Steve pulls up to the trailer, the one with the metal music blaring from somewhere inside that announces to the whole park that Eddie Munson is back home. He smiles at the sound, gets out of his car and bounds toward it. 

It's Wayne who lets him in when Steve knocks on the door. “He's in his room,” the older man tells him as he steps aside to let Steve in. “Make sure he's stayin’ off his feet, will you? ‘Cause lord knows he won't listen to me.” 

“Yeah, I got it,” Steve says, and his tone and his smile say I got him. Wayne nods. 

Steve makes his way down the hall to Eddie’s room. He raps his knuckles against the door first, but he doubts that can even be heard over the music so he pushes it open without waiting for a response. “Hey, Ed-” Steve starts, only to falter when he sees Eddie sitting statue-still on the edge of his bed, eyes boring holes into a photo strip of the two of them together. “Oh.” 

Eddie blinks, expression unreadable as he looks up and over at Steve. “Why didn't you tell me?” 

“I-” Steve doesn't know what to say, what he should say. His veins buzz with a nauseating mix of hope and anxiety and it's making him feel a bit sick. He takes a deep breath, turns down the music so he can think. “I wanted to. I just- I thought it would freak you out. You didn't know me. I didn't want to force anything on you.” 

“So…we were together,” Eddie says slowly. “For how long?” 

“Since July.” Steve’s desperately searching Eddie’s face for something, anything, to clue him in to what Eddie’s thinking or feeling right now. “Are- are you freaked out? Because you look a little freaked out.” 

“I’m not freaked out,” Eddie says, and it's almost convincing. “I'm just…processing.” 

“Oh-kay…” Steve breathes out, leaning cautiously against the doorframe, still hovering by the exit just in case Eddie decides he doesn't want him there anymore once he's finished processing.

“I’ve, uh-” Eddie looks back down at the photo strip he holds in his hands and takes a breath. “I’ve been remembering some things, you know, little things - in dreams - about us. But I- I thought I just had a crush or something, because I thought if all of that was real, if we had really been that happy - that…in love - then you would've said something. You would've told me.” 

When Eddie's eyes meet his again, Steve realizes he'd misread his expression before. Eddie's not freaked, he's upset, hurt, not because of what he's learned but because it was kept from him. Of all the worst-case scenarios Steve's spiraling mind had come up with over the past couple weeks, he had not considered this one. So preoccupied with his own angst over being forgotten and fear of being unwanted, Steve hadn't thought to consider that him hiding the true nature of their past might make Eddie feel unwanted too. That's the last thing Steve wants; the ache of that trumps any other ache he feels. 

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I just- you didn't know me, and I panicked; I didn't think, or-or I thought too much, but I should've just told you.” Steve pushes off from the doorway and goes to sit beside Eddie, because he can't stand Eddie looking at him with those big doe eyes and not being close to him. He leaves a bit of space, barely holds himself back from taking hold of Eddie's hand. “Because it was real, all the things you've been remembering. It was real- it is real, and I’m so sorry I didn't tell you.” 

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. His gaze flicks him up and down and across his face, and then Eddie grabs him, hands dropping the photo strip to instead clutch at Steve's cheek and jaw as he pulls him in and kisses him. As their lips slide together, familiar, the both of them sigh into the kiss. Steve feels a bursting in his heart, so similar to the way it felt the very first time they’d done this: the giddiness of reciprocation, the intuition that this is right. 

When Eddie pulls back after a few long moments, something is changed, something returned. Steve watches Eddie’s eyes flutter open; and when they do, for the first time since he'd woken up in that hospital bed, Eddie sees him, knows him, loves him. 

“How could I ever have forgotten that?” Eddie says, almost whispered, running his thumb across Steve's cheekbone. “How could I ever have forgotten you?” 

Steve could cry. Tears made of relief and joy blur his vision, because Eddie is looking at him with all the tenderness he'd been missing these past weeks, the painful emptiness of before now filled. It's all back. His Eddie is back. Steve pitches forward and hugs him bodily. Eddie returns the embrace; Steve sinks into his arms and it feels like coming home. 

He closes his misty eyes, buries his face in the crook of Eddie's neck and the tangles of his hair, and he breathes him in, clinging onto him like Eddie might just disappear if Steve ever let go. Eddie holds him just as close, one arm wrapped firm around Steve's waist while his other hand cradles the back of Steve's head and strokes his hair. Steve soaks in every touch, feels every place where they are pressed against each other, so warm and safe and loving after so long without it. He is whole again in the arms of the man he loves.  

“I missed you,” Steve mutters, lips brushing against the skin of Eddie's neck as he speaks, muffled. 

“I know, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs, “my Stevie, I’m so sorry.” 

“S’okay. It wasn't your fault,” Steve mumbles, and he thinks maybe they both need to stop apologizing for this. 

Eddie must think the same, because he says, “And it wasn't yours either,” like he knows every twisted, guilty thought that's been haunting Steve lately and he absolves him of them. He tugs gently at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head and look him in the eyes. “You know that, right?” 

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says quietly. Eddie reaches up to brush from his cheek a tear Steve didn't even know had fallen, and as he wipes it away he wipes away everything - all blame, all fear, all pain. Eddie had forgotten him, and it sucked, but now he remembers again, and none of that matters anymore. Steve hangs onto Eddie's wrist. “Just-” His voice rasps with emotion, making it rougher. “Don't you ever forget about me again.” 

It's not a promise that can be made with any certainty - anything can happen at any time, just as unexpectedly as it had this time - but Steve doesn't need certainty, he just needs to hear the words, and Eddie gives that to him. “I won't, darling,” he vows, with gentle reassurance. “Never again.”

“Good,” Steve sighs, turning his head into Eddie's hand to press a kiss to the palm. 

The last of his heavier emotions drain out of him then and now he can feel the joy of Eddie's return in its whole entirety. As he rolls his face out of Eddie's hand and settles his eyes on the beautiful boy in front of him, a grin begins to spread across Steve's face; Eddie's smile grows in tandem with his, like he's smiling just because Steve is. Steve says, giddy in full now, “You're back.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, lovely and bright, ducking to bump his forehead against Steve's. “I'm back.” 

Steve lets go of Eddie's wrist to tangle a hand in his hair, and he tilts his head up to kiss him again, just because he can, because he's making up for lost time. They draw each other in close once more, lips and bodies moving against each other, easy and natural. Steve could stay right here like this forever, never wants to stop holding him or stop kissing him. 

But a thought - a question - tickles at the base of Steve's skull, and when he does pull back he asks, hopeless romantic that he is, “Just in case - I mean, just so I know - what was it that brought your memory back? Was it like a…true love’s kiss breaking the spell sort of thing?” 

Eddie laughs, gives Steve another quick peck like he always does when Steve says something endearing. “Not quite, Prince Charming,” he responds with a grin so fond Steve thinks his heart might burst. “It was more like…the things I had remembered were just dreams to me, shallow and unreal, but kissing you was like an anchor, a reminder that allowed those dreams to sink in as proper memories and become real.” 

“So…basically it was true love’s kiss,” Steve says cheekily, just to hear Eddie’s laugh again, just to receive another affectionate press of Eddie's lips against his. 

“Yeah, sure,” Eddie concedes, smilingly, never one not to indulge whimsy, “we can call it that.” But then he amends, with a little less levity, “It wasn't exactly a magic cure-all, though. It didn't bring everything back, there are still gaps in my memory.” He looks at Steve with eyes like pools of melted chocolate, soft and endless. “But I remember that I love you; I remember that much.” 

And Steve tells him, “That's enough," and he pulls him in for another true love's kiss.

THE END. taglist: @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (continued in replies)

[catssluvr]

holy cow that playlist one was perfect☹️☹️ seriously it was better than i imagined!! and i love all of the songs u used AND i loveeee stevie nicks ugh it was just perfect thank you sososo much!!!

also.. if you still want requests! i have too many ideas i fear, but i was thinking!! maybe like reader is an intern at the bau and emily meets her for the first time and its just fluff and pining perhaps?

thank u so much again!

-🐞

i’m sosososo glad you loved it 💌 your requests always make my day 🫶🏻 i’m always open for ur requests bug, show me all ur ideas 🤍 ILY

𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆, emily prentiss

emily prentiss x fem!reader

emily meets you and is immediately enchanted <3

warnings: none<3

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

Emily scribbles down on the papers in front of her, chin resting on the palm of her hand. It's a pretty normal day at work, no current case going on, just loads of files to fill and meetings to attend. The bullpen is almost entirely quiet, the only sounds being of pens scribbling and hushed voices.

Her gaze snaps up when she hears Aaron's office door opening and closing, expecting him to tell the team to meet in the conference room. To her surprise, he's walking side by side with a girl she doesn't remember seeing before. You.

You smile politely as Hotch introduces you to almost everyone who passes, she wonders how much more beautiful your actual smile is. It feels impossible for it to get even prettier.

You're visibly nervous, hands rubbing against your blazer before going in for a handshake. Your suit looks like it's been ironed hundreds of times as it doesn't have one single wrinkle - you made sure it didn't.

She finally notices the internship card on your blazer and it all clicks. You're obviously nervous with reason, she remembers how hard she wanted to impress and prove herself when she first started working at the bau. But she can't help but think that the way you look around the bullpen in wonder is absolutely adorable.

Hotch suddenly starts approaching her desk, you following right behind. He also has a polite smile on his face, Emily's not surprised you can even get the biggest grump she knows to smile.

"This is SSA Prentiss," He proceeds to introduce you to her, she swears her heart skips a beat at you smiling directly at her now.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Agent Prentiss." You reach out to shake her hand, wide eyes starting at her in anticipation. Your skin feels even nicer than it looks, the gentle squeeze you give her before letting go making her knees go weak.

"The pleasure is all mine." She replies, feeling weirdly at a loss of words. It's not like she can say anything with Hotch standing right there, he'd notice her flustered behaviour way too quickly.

Before anything else can happen, he's pulling you to another table to introduce you to everyone else. You glance quickly over your shoulder to find her looking, a small smile escaping your lips before you can stop it.

Emily feels giddy just from the small interaction and she's not even sure why. She knows nothing more than your name yet it's like you've bewitched her in matter of seconds.

Later you find yourself grabbing a cup of coffee before leaving, not wanting to be half asleep while driving home. It was definitely a long day, a good one nevertheless. Hard work got you here and you feel proud of yourself.

Too lost in your own bubble, you turn around and head to the exit, not noticing the figure coming right in your direction. Your coffee spills all over the person's blazer, staining it in a way you know won't come off.

Lifting your eyes, you find hers already looking at you. Your cheeks feel hot in a heartbeat, embarrassment consuming you whole.

"Oh god- i'm so sorry, Agent Prentiss." You rush to get paper towels and start not very successfully cleaning her blazer.

"It's okay, it was an accident. And Emily is fine." She reassures, pulling your hands away gently and you shudder at her touch.

"I guess that wasn't a great first day impression." You scrunch your nose and signal to her blazer. You were very confident it had been a great first day moments before. Maybe you started celebrating way too soon.

"What? Just because you accidentally spilled your coffee?" Emily chuckles with raised eyebrows, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm really sorry anyway. Is there anything i can do to make up for it?" You question hopefully, throwing the paper towels on the garbage.

"Well, there's this really nice new coffee shop in town. i wouldn't mind a free coffee. Promise i won't spill it on you as revenge." It doesn't sound like a bad idea, getting coffee with her.

"A free coffee it is." It's your turn to chuckle now, spilled coffee long forgotten. "And you better not, i don't have as many suits as you probably do."

Emily shakes her head with a smile, mentioning for you to follow as she walks to her table and grabs a paper with her number on it.

Not a bad first day at all.

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛

love you,

cat 🤍