could you do like the fluffy alternative? that steve is a really handy boyfriend too, and you ask him to do projects all the time? and he just adores reader? just something with handyman steve being sweet!
It takes Steve Harrington exactly once to right his wrongs.
He's a quick study, adaptable, and despite what some may say about his intelligence, he's great on instinct. If suddenly you briefly mention how much you love lilies when he brought you daisies home, the next day, he comes home with a whole new arrangement of lilies. If you casually mention your preferred pizza spot, he's filing that away for later. It's something inherently domestic about him; the desire to provide for his partner and go above and beyond.
That didn't mean he was immune to slipping up occasionally. You had been asking him to mount your hanging pot in the kitchen for the past three days. But he was busy between the radio station and chasing after the kids that it slipped his mind.
You figured that you were handy enough fighting the Upside Down; how hard could it be to hang by yourself? The answer was apparently very difficult.
Somewhere between opening the basket and sliding the plant in, it all had come tumbling down while Steve entered the kitchen. Dirt was smeared all down your front as the basket twisted in its own netting.
Steve dropped whatever was in his hands and rushed over to you, "Honey, are you alright?"
His large hands cupped your jaw while his eyes flitted about your face and head for injuries. His thumbs wiped away the dirt that speckled your cheeks. He did not care for the poor plant beneath his feet, the frayed edges of the once pristine basket, or the slightly striped hole in your kitchen ceiling. He just needs to make sure you are okay before anything else.
From that day on, he does things almost as soon as he's asked. His conscience doesn't need to fret about the alternative of you just doing things without his help.
"Hey, babe, can you come hold the ladder?" You called out to him, "It's a little wobbly."
Steve's gliding into the room, not even a half second later, "What did I say about getting on the ladder without me in sight?"
"I call for your help, I only climbed the first two steps," You shrugged as his hands grasped at the bars.
"You should've mentioned that these lights were out. I would've handled it," He says, as if you've forgotten that he wants to be your handyman.
You descend the ladder and press a kiss to his cheek, "Then who would hold the ladder?"
hii! i had a really troll thought and was wondering how hotch would respond to the reader just casually referring to him as a dilf. maybe they're just talking to the other members of the team and he happens to walk by and is just like 🤨 what did you just call me?
Hear me out! I'm a gremlin so what if we make it bearded Hotch 🤤. (Also tbh Jack not liking the beard was my 13th reason, I'm gonna beat that kid up)
Like ughh look at him 😍
"Penny, Penny! Have you seen Hotch today?" You practically drooled on the floor as you burst into her little tech-filled cave. Penelope was the only person in the entire office who could match your level of unhinged thoughts when it came to men, and you knew she’d never tease you for it.
Penelope grinned knowingly, keeping her secret that Hotch was quietly standing in the doorway behind you, having come in just after you.
"He looks so scrumptious today. What a total DILF."
"Excuse me? What did you just call me?" A deep voice resonated from behind. You spun around, eyes wide in horror, only to find your boss standing there with his arms crossed, an amused but questioning expression on his face.
"I... I—" You stammered, completely frozen in shock that he’d overheard you. "I'm so sorry, sir."
Penelope, ever the quick thinker, jumped in to try and save you. "What (Y/N) is trying to say is: keep the beard. It really suits you."
Hotch chuckled, his stern demeanor softening. "Well, Jack’s not a fan, so it’s going."
"NOOOO!" you yelped, louder than you intended, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth as your eyes widened in embarrassment. To your surprise, Hotch winked at you, clearly in a rare, playful mood.
brb, I became a little too much of a feral gremlin in the process. I'm gonna go dump my head in a bucket of ice.
Hiiii been reading your stuff for a little bit (which gagged loveee) and thought I'd try my hand at a lil request if that's alright?
So if you're feeling inspired, would you be down for a fic featuring Eddie or Steve, where the reader gets overstimulated by like a party or a concert and the next day has a hard crash, stuck in bed, exhausted, but they don't like care? Even though reader feels bad.
Something ish along those lines, but take your full creative freedom here! (Can you tell it's 1000% self indulgent as I lay in bed, perhaps experiencing said crash rn? Lmao)
Anyways, I hope you're having a lovely day.!! And thanks for at least reading the request, even if you don't decide to do it 😊
i hope i did this request justice!! i wasn’t too clear on if you wanted them not to care that you’re crashing as in ignoring or as in loving u anyway so i did a little of both! hope ur feelin a little better <3
Get My Mind Right
masterlist | send a fic/blurb request
best friend turned lover!eddie, he just wants to take good care of u!!!! Ft. best friend!steve <3 gnc reader, no physical description, angst, hurt/comfort, anxiety, overstimulation, mentions of depression and anxiety, a couple uses of y/n.
2k words
—
Steve’s house buzzes with the collective noise of strangers. Loud music thrums through the walls, making your ears ring. Everyone’s drunk, or high, or both. Except for you. The world feels far away, you’re tired, and you’re ready to leave despite the fact that you’ve only been here for two hours.
“Hey. You okay?” Eddie waves a cautious hand in front of your blank stare, and the rings reflect the low lights, making you squint.
“Hm? Oh. Yeah. Jus’ tired.”
“You need me to give you a ride?” You look up at him then, registering the worry in his voice. You shake your head, and can feel the headache already forming. “Nah, I can drive.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. Will you call me when you’re home?”
You nod, giving him a meek smile before leaving the room. You find Steve and Robin playing flip cup out on the deck, and deliver the same goodbye.
“Wait, hold on!” Steve calls, pausing his turn to approach you. “You able to get home?”
“Yeah. Promise, I only had one drink. Just don’t think I can hang tonight.” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst with how fast it’s beating, and every voice sounding like silverware scraping across china plates.
“Okay. Call me in the morning.” He wraps you in a bear hug, and you relish in the comfort before he lets you go, too soon.
—
It’s a hard crash. You get home, ignoring your family as they greet you from the couch.
“You’re home early!” Your mom calls.
“Want some ice cream, kiddo?”
“Huh? No, just gonna go to bed.”
“Okay, sweetie. Love you!”
“You too.” It’s barely audible, but you don’t care enough to repeat yourself before climbing the stairs to your bedroom. Once alone, you let the tears fall. You hate when this happens, and lately it’s been far too frequent. You swear every time, you’ll be able to handle the crowds, the socializing, the noises. And every time, it’s a lie. You end up leaving every get together early, and all of your friends have stopped asking you to stay.
You decide not to call Eddie. Instead, you strip yourself from your cutoffs and tank top and turn your shower faucet on. Even in the summer, you run the water scalding hot, willing the warmth to wrap around your brain like a neutralizing fog. You’re still crying by the time you’ve scrubbed yourself clean, unable to wash away the weight in your chest.
You stare at your phone as you get into your pajamas, and crawl into bed without dialing. Even as you drift off to sleep, the phone doesn’t ring with a concerned friend on the other line.
—
It’s noon when you finally wake up. There are no messages from Eddie, but Steve has left about one thousand since this morning.
“Hey, Steve.” You greet him when he picks up on the first ring.
“Hey, you. You alright?”
“Yeah, just overslept. Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“No, not at all! I’ll be over later with a movie, alright? We’ll just chill, no parties. Thanks for tryin’ last night, though. It was great to see you outside.”
“Yeah,” You sigh into the receiver, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you, Stevie.”
“I love you, too.” You feel the sob in the back of your throat, but swallow it down and dig through your bed for the TV remote, hanging up the phone.
“Honey?” Your mother’s soft voice floats through the door the moment you turn the television on. “You awake?”
You groan, throwing the blanket over your head. You're in no shape to socialize with her, but you don’t have the heart to tell her that either.
“You have a visitor.” She coaxes, and it catches your attention. You peek out from under your comforter, and your mother meets your eyes and smiles. She opens your door further, revealing a disheveled and exhausted looking Eddie.
“Christ,” He seemingly sighs in relief. “Thought you were dead in a ditch or something.”
“I’m making lunch soon. Try to come eat, both of you.” She even has the trust in Eddie to close the door all the way.
You hear her footsteps retreat, and turn to your friend. “Hi.”
“Hi.” He’s staring at you far too intensely, not letting you avoid returning eye contact. “Are you okay?”
“I’m dandy.”
“C’mon. What’s goin’ on? You’ve been acting weird for like, weeks now. And you didn’t call. I’m worried about you.”
You hadn’t realized just how badly you’d needed him to care about you.
You shrug, defeated. “Just can’t enjoy parties like that. I know you guys like them a lot, but it’s never been my scene. It’s gotten to be way too much to deal with. Especially now that it’s grad season.” You’re tearing up again, and you huff in frustration. “I want to hang out with you guys. It pains me every time I have to leave early. But no one really cares to check on me, either, and it always gets too unbearable before I can even vocalize it.” The words tumble out between your wracked sobs. “It’s panic attack after panic attack, and it’s destroying my fucking life.” You angrily wipe the tears from your cheeks and force yourself to look up at Eddie.
You immediately regret that. The boy in front of you is far too soft looking to be the best friend you know. Usually, your relationship with him consists of playful banter, cheesy flirting, and raving about your favorite bands. It’s rare for you to be vulnerable, mostly because you wouldn’t be able to cope with scaring him away.
His eyes are wide and laser focused on you, following every slight movement from the shift of your posture to the way you’re playing with your bracelet.
“You know I’d hang out with you in complete silence if that’s what it took.” He says it plainly, vastly opposite of how you’re used to Eddie speaking; with vibrato and expression.
You drop your eyes to your lap. “That’s no fun.”
“Please look at me.” He’s begging. You oblige. “I could give a fuck less about a goddamn high school party. I go because I know you’re there. I usually leave not ten minutes after you.”
“Why not leave with me then?” It’s not meant to be a difficult question, but Eddie averts his gaze to his hands.
He sighs, shaking his unruly hair around. “I don’t know. Because I’m a coward?”
It confuses you. “What is there to be scared of? You’re one of my closest friends, Ed. I don’t think leaving a party with me would mean what you’re implying.” The words sting, and you can’t figure out if it’s because you want it to imply something, or because you’re sure Eddie doesn’t.
“Is it me?” The question falls out of your mouth before you think better of it.
“What? Sweetheart, no. Well, yeah, actually.” You freeze. “But not in the way you must think. Oh god, y/n, you have no idea. It breaks my heart every time you tell me you’re leaving, ‘cause I know it means I won’t see you for the rest of the night. I figure, every time you say no to a ride it means you wanna be alone.”
That’s more than fair, you think. “I didn’t wanna put you out.”
“It’s never an inconvenience when it’s you.” You scoot closer to him, his body heat radiating, prompting you to discard your blanket from your shoulders. He continues, “I’m afraid of the things I’d say. Things I wouldn’t ever be able to take back. I stay sober enough at those parties just in case you might say yes to my offer. Usually I feel better when you call, let me know you’re alright. Figured this time it must be worse.”
“I’m sorry I worried you, Eds. I should’ve called. But it got you into my bed, so who’s to say this wasn’t my plan all along?” You mean it jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, but Eddie frowns, brow furrowed.
“Don’t say shit like that.”
“Like what?” Usually Eddie’s the one to dish out the flirty jokes, but you don’t see why you can’t.
“You don’t mean that.”
“And you do, every time you tell me I’m making you quote-unquote ‘harder than Ms. O’Donnell’s final exam.’?”
“Yes.” There is no hint of him joking, his mouth a straight line, unflinching as he looks at you. “What, you think I’m kidding?”
You don’t actually know what you’d been thinking. Maybe that’s how he talks to all his friends? Maybe he was trying to boost your confidence? “I don’t know, maybe?”
“Huh. Well, say for argument's sake that I’d been dead serious the whole time. Hypothetically, how would you respond to that?” He looks at you with wide, scared eyes, and you can’t help but smile at him.
“Hypothetically?” He nods. “I’d probably tell you I’ve been waiting to hear that for as long as I can remember.”
“What the fuck.” It’s more of a statement than a question. “You’re being serious, right? This isn’t some elaborate, cruel prank on me?”
“No, I thought we established that.”
“Sorry, just need to make double sure. Could you pinch me? Still not completely convinced.”
You don’t pinch him, instead flicking your eyes quickly to his lips and back. At first, you don’t think he gets the hint, but when you’re about to play it off, he moves.
Eddie slides his arm around your waist, making quick work of dragging you closer to him, and before you can catch your breath his lips are on yours. They’re soft, and he tastes faintly of cigarettes, and it overwhelms your senses. He sucks your bottom lip between your teeth, a harmless experiment that causes you to part your lips for him to deepen the kiss. He takes the hint, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You tangle your own with it, relishing in the smallest whimper that leaves Eddie’s throat when you do. You gain confidence, sliding your hands around his neck and into his hair, twisting your fingers into the curls at the root, pulling him impossibly closer to you. It’s then that he stops, letting you up for air as he pants underneath you.
“Christ.” He huffs, his face pink and bangs disheveled. “Gonna have to gimme a sec.”
“Yeah, ‘course. Sorry.” You’re out of breath, too, and can only imagine how you must look.
“You tellin’ me I could’ve done that months ago?”
You can’t help smiling at him. “Try years.”
“Shit. I’m a moron.”
“But you’re my moron.” He beams when you say it. “No more parties for awhile, though.”
“I can live with that if it means I get to kiss you again.”
“You can do way more than just kiss me, Munson.”
“Fucking hell.”
“Y/n! Eddie! I made lunch!” Your mother calls from downstairs, snapping you out of the quiet bubble you’ve created with Eddie.
“Be right there!” You look back to him. “Care to pick this up later?”
“I’d love nothing more.”
–
Steve is in your kitchen with a copy of your favorite movie and a bag of microwave popcorn. “Oh, shit. Hey, Ed. Didn’t know you’d be joining us.”
“To tell you the truth, Harrington, me either.” He snickers, and you blush at the implications.
“Did I miss something?” Steve looks from you to Eddie.
You’re giggling now, too. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”
Eddie slings his arm around you, deepening the confusion on Steve’s pretty face. “Okay…”
send me a photo and I’ll write a little something inspired by it — a one-shot, a moody drabble, maybe something smutty, maybe something soft. depends on the vibe.
here’s how it works:
➡️ you submit a photo.
➡️ I write a blurb or mini one-shot or snapshot based on the mood, setting, or utter feral inspo it gives me.
➡️ you cry/smile/kick your feet (optional but encouraged)
📝 what to send
scenery > faces. I’m more inspired by atmosphere, places, moments in time. (think: messy hotel beds, stormy skies, empty terminals, beach towels at golden hour, etc.)
photos of harry. choose photos of him that would draw inspiration
📌 optional (but v helpful):
a little note with your vibe (e.g., “domestic fluff,” “angst and rain,” “steamy vacation hookup”)
what kind of Harry you’re imagining (e.g., “tattoo artist,” “soft boyfriend,” “grumpy professor”)
any hard no’s (no heartbreak, no smut, etc.)
SUBMIT HERE
multiple submissions are welcome — I’ll go with the ones that spark the loudest chaos in my brain.
tag your mutuals. let’s make something beautiful (or filthy, or tender, or all three).
Watching this '86 movie called Top Gun with Jake, you're laying in his lap under a blanket with some popcorn.
At the end of the movie Jake states "I'm way better than them."
it’s short but enjoy 🥰
——————
“I’m way better than them.” Jake huffed as if he was concerned fake pilots from some 80’s film would actually knock him out of the one percent.
Your knee jerk reaction was to snort. Not in a mocking way, but because the idea was laughable. The sound caused your boyfriend to lightly tap your shoulder. From your heads position in his lap the offended look on his face was rather comical. The way his brows were creased in the center of his forehead while his eyes were wide at the same time. His mouth was slightly agape, only adding to the level of offended he was.
“What?”
“Don’t snort. I am better than they are!” He started pouting and moved you off his lap. You couldn’t believe he was actually offended by this.
It was your turn for you to have the offended, and mildly confused, look on your face.
“Are you seriously offended by a noise? Because if we’re playing that game I’m offended by the noises that come out of your ass in the middle of the night.” Two could play at this game and you would win.
His head turned towards you in slow motion, eyes wide again as if he couldn’t believe you’d say that.
“That is a bodily function! You pretty much said that actors are better pilots than me.” He actually sounded hurt and you realized that maybe you had gone about this the wrong way.
In hopes of rectifying the situation and soothing his bruised ego you crawled back into his lap. “Cowboy, there’s no way in heaven or on earth they could ever be a better pilot than you. None of them have any active duty kills.” You purred softly, running your hands through is messy hair.
He pouted some more, really pulling out the puppy dog eyes.
“Promise?”
“Pinky.” You nodded and sealed it with a kiss.
A few moments of silence passed with you on his lap, your head in the crook of his neck, before he spoke up again.
I VOTE DOING ONE OCTOBER PROMPT OF EQUESTRIAN MATTY & GEORGE BTW
So, I told myself (and you all) I probably wasn't going to write anything else in the ATKH 'verse unless it was maybe some kind of prequel one day. I have however, had this idea rolling around in my brain for the last few months and after getting this ask I said fuck it. It might not be one of the October Prompts, but it's technically a request / prompt fill? IDK it's short but it's here, so enjoy a little peek into the future lives of Equestrian / Horse Boy Fictional!Matty and Fictional!George from the All the King's Horses universe. I'm sorry it's short!
---
July 2028.
George could practically feel the anxiety radiating off of Matty as he walked Sally from the warm up ring to the arena. He had warmed up well, both he and Sally forward and seemingly confident. It had been a surprise to see just how visibly nervous he was when they began the trek from the warm up to the arena, Matty nearly trembling in his show coat.
George was a few paces behind him, letting him have a moment to converse with Jamie, likely going over the final plan for the course. Ross was off to the side as well, ready to wipe Sally’s nose and shine Matty’s boots one last time before he entered the ring. George swallowed hard. He couldn’t believe that they were here, he couldn’t believe he had made it. But at the same time, they had, and Matty had worked hard for it, and George knew he deserved it.
“Hey,” said Jamie, gesturing for George to come closer, reaching out for the water bottle that George was holding so he could give it to Matty. He nodded in thanks, handing the dented yellow hydro flask up to him. Matty smiled, accepting it with a small thanks as Jamie held onto Sally’s bridle.
“Good luck,” said George, Sally was pawing at footing in the ingate, clearly annoyed she was being forced to stand quietly, “and have fun.”
“Thanks,” said Matty, his voice small, rough with nervousness, like the word had gotten stuck in his throat, and he had struggled to dislodge it. He took another sip from his water bottle and handed it back down to Jamie who gave Sally a pat on the neck.
Lana exited the ring, flashing George and Matty a smile as her grooms rushed forward to clip a lead rope onto Norman’s bridle, the stallion prancing as he made his way down the aisle.
“Time to go,” said Jamie, giving Sally one last pat. Matty nodded, swallowing hard, as he shortened his reins and trotted into the arena, leaving Jamie and George behind at the ingate. THe crowd cheered, Matty and his comeback story becoming something of a fan favorite within the equestrian community, his tarnished reputation shined and Sally earning her own fanclub.
They had shown in Temecula more times than George could count, they had shown in every ring at Galway Downs. Matty had shown more classes in this ring in particular than George even wanted to try and recall. But he knew that it was different this time, a red and blue coat on Matty’s shoulders, an American flag on his saddle pad and Sally’s bonnet. The expectation of a nation weighing him down as he faced off against the five Olympic rings.
The buzzer went off and Matty picked up the canter. The announcer was introducing him to the crowd, going over his and Sally’s biography but George didn’t hear a word the announcer said, despite having the bio memorized, having spent nearly an hour laying on their living room floor helping Matty write it. They approached the first jump, a large and colorful oxer. George smiled. Matty was an Olympian.
the reader being a pilot and crashing or gloc or something but begging maverick or someone not to call rooster cuz it’s his day off and he gets angry at her cuz she knew she was putting herself in danger
oh i like this gjfsdgljbdf okay okay also, i usually write person x "oc" but like, idk i couldn't come up with a name so yeah but i've decided her call name was "Little" because her mom was a pilot too and she's just like her so idk, maverick called her mini when she joined. k bye
also, just- i don't know shit about planes or wtv so just, bear with me it is highly fictional.
thank youuuuuu xxxxxxxxx
send me concepts or blurb ideas❤️
Danger Zone
They warned her, advised her against going out before the plane was cleared but she was stubborn just like her mother was, knowing she'd be in trouble either way.
She told them she would be fine.
She wasn't fine.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" she cried out as multiple alarms blared in the small cockpit.
"Eject, Little! Now!" Maverick shouted at her as he flew as fast as he could to join her.
"I'll be fine!" She replied, eyeing the familiar aircraft that approached hers. "Fuck!" The plane dropped again, getting dangerously close to the limit above ground level.
"EJECT, LITTLE!" The instructor shouted and she could hear her fellow pilots shout the same thing.
She pulled the lever and a shout left her lips when she felt the shock of the security straps against her chest. She was pulled out of the cockpit, stayed in the air for half a second before she started to sway, slowing making her way to the ground. It took less than fifteen seconds for her plane to crash against the side of the mountain and she held her breath.
"Are you okay?" Hangman asked her and she lifted her head to see him making his way towards her and her eyes started to flutter shut.
When she woke up, she was alone in what she could recognize as a helicopter. The woman started to feel agitated as her whole body ached. Finally, she saw another woman sat in the seat against the wall, she looked like a doctor.
Pete, Jake, Natasha and Mickey waited on the landpad when the helicopter landed.
-
Her eyes fluttered open and the harsh light made her grimace.
"Hi," she heard and tried to look but the simple action of breathing made her wince and she moved to reach her ribs but was stopped but the eldest pilot.
"You're okay." he smiled and tears pearled in her eyes while she nodded weakly.
"She's awake, I'll call Roo-" Hangman started, walking out of the room.
"No." She said with a bit more force. "Please, Jake."
"We can't not tell him." she heard a voice from the side and she tried to see who was there without much success.
"It's Fanboy." she nodded.
"Don't want him to worry." Maverick looked down at her with a frown, worried for her. "I'll be fine." she winced and he scoffed, unconvinced. "Please." she begged repeatedly as her eyes rolled back in their sockets.
A few hours later, her breathing changed, she felt too warm but her toes felt frozen. Her eyes opened slowly and she felt instantly grateful that the blinds had been drawn. She tried to wiggle her fingers and a wave of panic flooded her body when she couldn't. She snuck a peak to her left hand only to see a much larger hand cover it but she could see the tip of her middle finger wiggle and she sighed. She could barely move as her whole body was stuck in a body brace. Not without pain and difficulty, she reached her right arm over her body and the tip of her finger gently caressed the curve of his nose.
"Mmh." he groaned and a quiet chuckle left her lips.
"Wake up." she said, softly poking his nose. "Hey." she smiled when his nose twitched and he opened his eyes.
"Hey," he replied softly only for his expression to change a split second later. "are you out of your goddamn mind?" he scolded and she frowned. "Don't look at me like that." He almost begged when he felt his facade crack at her pained expression. "You could've died. Do you know how-?" The volume of his voice started to get louder but he stopped himself and breathed deeply. "They told you I don't know how many times that- that it wasn't safe and that you could get hurt."
She felt her heart drop and shivers ran up her arms.
"I'm sorry." she mumbled. "I didn't mean to, I just wanted to go. I'd miss so much already and I'd checked her and she was just fine, Brad I swear."
"You scared the living shit out of me." his voice cracked as he looked up at her. He gently grabbed her hand and pressed a few kisses to it.
"I'm sorry." she repeated and he nodded.
He stood up and leaned closer to her, pressed a lingering kiss to her lips before letting their foreheads touch for a few seconds.
"I'm so glad you're okay." He whispered and she nodded.
"I can't move." she chuckled and he breathed out.
"Fractured ribs, dislocated shoulder, concussion, broken-"
"Yeah, okay I get it." she interrupted him as he counted her injuries on his fingers. "I got lucky." she eyed him as his stare fell on the window.
"Yeah, you did..." he mumbled before he sniffled. "I love you." he finished and her heart missed a beat, literally.
"What?"
"I love you."
"I love you, too." She replied and he repeated the same action as earlier, only ending the kiss with several pecks.
"So can we finally acknowledge that we all knew you guys were hooking up regularly or do we forget we heard you say I love you?" Hangman said from the doorstep with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. The pair stared at the door with wide eyes as their friends smiled at them.
"I just want to forget that you guys are doing stuff, okay?" Maverick waved in the air and the group laughed.
"Oh god, Mav you're such a dad!" Little teased before the group all surrounded her, Rooster still sat next to her, keeping her hand in his...
