#i’m the one blowing bubblegum

[bunnysarchive]

Modern Maidens

artist: Gerard Mas

[moonstruckme]

emt marauders where they go away on a hokiday and reader gets sick but hides it so they can have fun?

cw: some phlegm talk? idk hardly a trigger but a little gross depending on your tolerance of all that

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

“Ow,” Sirius whines. 

“Sorry,” says Remus, clearly being as gentle as he can in smoothing sun lotion onto Sirius’ pinkened shoulders. “It wouldn’t hurt if you’d reapplied earlier.” 

“No one else had to reapply,” he grumbles, then hisses as Remus moves to a new spot. 

“You’re extra special.” James simpers, kissing Sirius’ cheek. “You can always hang back in the room if it hurts too much, you know.” 

Sirius glares. “I’m not going to sit in the room by myself while you all play Baywatch and make out in the ocean.” 

“We don’t do that.” Remus frowns. 

“I’ll stay with you,” you offer. You hope your eagerness doesn’t sound as obvious to your boyfriends as it does to you.

Sirius softens some. “You don’t have to miss out for me, baby.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“I’m not going to waste a day of holiday anyway,” he says decisively, just as Remus puts the cap back on the sun lotion. “Onward!” 

You try not to deflate, resigning yourself to spending the afternoon as you spent the morning and all of yesterday before that: camped out under an umbrella, using toilet paper stolen from your hotel room as tissues when the boys aren’t looking. 

“Can we stop for ice cream on the way?” you ask as you make your way out of the room. 

“Again?” James laughs. “Angel, at this rate you’re going to be going through sugar withdrawal on the flight home.” 

You shrug. “That place by the boardwalk is really good.” 

You wouldn’t actually know. Your taste buds have gone rather lackluster since the onset of your cold; you wouldn’t know much difference if you got strawberry or bubblegum or peppermint candy cane. It makes your sore throat feel much better for a few minutes, though. 

Ordinarily one of your boyfriends might push back against you eating sweets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but because it’s a holiday you’re sitting on the sand finishing off a cone of pink something a short time later. Sirius has taken up residence by your legs, slowly covering them with sand to fulfill his vision of making you a mermaid tail. You’re trying not to wince as the sun worsens your headache. 

You want to enjoy your trip, you really do, but the beach is just too hot and too bright and too coarse when what you really long for is your bed and a cup of honeyed tea. No one drinks honeyed tea at the beach. You wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for some. 

“Do you think you ought to have scales?” Sirius asks. 

You hum, furrowing your brows like you’re paying attention. “I think so. Most mermaids do, right?” 

“Probably right.” Sirius leans forward, kissing you before you can stop him. “Brilliant girl.” 

You think you’re a horrible girlfriend. Even when he does sweet things like that, you want him gone badly. Before Sirius got sunburned and took shelter under the umbrella with you, it was him and James in the water all day long and Remus lying next to you but too absorbed in his book to notice you occasionally sneezing or blowing your nose. With Sirius here, you can feel the buildup in your sinuses like a dam ready to break. 

You know it would be easier to just tell your boyfriends you’re feeling under the weather. Easier for you, but not easier for them. They’d want to look after you, and they’d be giving up their own fun to do it. You won’t ruin their holiday because you’ve got the sniffles. 

“Hey, if you lay back I can give you a mermaid torso too.” 

You frown. “Don’t mermaids have human torsos?” 

“Yeah, but with a seashell bra.” 

Before you can come up with an excuse for why you don’t want to lie down and let Sirius cover you up to your neck in sand, James comes bounding over. He’s dripping wet dangerously near to Remus, who pulls his book closer with a reproachful look. 

“No one wants to come out in the water with me?” James asks. 

Sirius pouts at him. “You need a playmate, babe?” 

“Yeah, I do actually.” 

“Too bad. Get the sun to be nicer to me, and I’ll come out.”

“Why is that my job?” James looks to you, pleading. “Come on, lovie. You haven’t been in the water nearly this whole time. Do you really want to go home without having been in the ocean?” 

Guilt eats at you. “I’m okay,” you say, apology in your tone. “I’m having a good time here.” 

“Why don’t you go for a little while?” asks Remus. You hadn’t realized he was paying attention. “Just to say you did.” 

“Don’t make me carry you out there,” James teases. 

You try to smile before eating the last piece of your cone. “Okay,” you say, “just for a little while.” 

“Fine.” Sirius throws up his hands as though he’s lost a long and onerous argument. “If you’re going to leave me here with boring old Remus” —he drops a wink, though Remus only rolls his eyes— “I’ll come too.” 

James half drags you both to the water, you and Sirius grimacing at the sun for different reasons. The water isn’t terribly cold, but you shiver still, grateful when James pulls you close before starting to make his way out to a sandbar he found this morning.

Only, the sandbar seems to have gone away further than where he left it. James and Sirius don’t mind, laughing and splashing each other and trying to coax you into their games. You smile tersely, using all your energy to continue swimming. You’ve gone far enough out that the tips of your toes are barely skimming the sand, though when you turn around Remus and your umbrella really don’t appear so far away. 

It’s because you’ve turned to look that the wave takes you by surprise. 

You’re underwater in an instant, thrown head over heels and tumbling like a piece of litter caught in the tide. You choke on saltwater. It takes you what feels like forever to figure out which way is up, but then you push down on the sea floor, shoving yourself towards the surface. 

You emerge coughing. Sea water streaming from your nose and mouth, tears welling in your eyes. It stings. 

You hear the boys laughing, James’ warm hand landing between your shoulders. He rubs consolingly. 

“Aw, sorry, lovie. It happens. That really took you down, huh?” 

You try to laugh along with them, but it’s hard when saltwater seems to flow endlessly from your nose. You realize at the same time as James that it’s not all saltwater. 

“Whoa. Needed a purge, did you?”

“Sorry.” You wipe your nose on your arm, rinsing it off in the water. You feel disgusting and embarrassed. 

“No, don’t be.” James palms your face, smiling as he wipes the couple of tears that have escaped your eyes. “This is what saltwater does. It cleans out your nasal passages. It’s a good thing, getting all the muck out.” 

You’re about to respond with something equally positive when you sneeze violently. More snot comes out of your nose. 

“Shit, baby,” says Sirius. “You were really clogged up. You feeling sick or something?” 

You think that maybe it could be a joke, but your guilty expression gives you away. 

James blinks. “Really?” 

“I’m fine,” you say. You know it’s not very convincing when you’re trying and failing to stop the globs of mucus leaving your nostrils. 

“You’re sick.” Sirius sounds aghast. “For how long? Why didn’t you say?”

“A couple days,” you admit, “but it’s really not bad. I didn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun.” 

“Ruin everyone’s fun,” Sirius repeats, muttering. He pulls you into a hug, mindless of the snot getting on his shoulder. “You are the fun, baby.” 

You nearly snort. “Not like this.” 

“Did you ever think that maybe I like making you tea and bossing you around? Hm? Did it occur to you that that might be fun for me?” 

“I think it’s occurred to all of us that being bossy is fun for you, babe,” says James. His smile has a pitying edge as he begins to shepherd you both back towards the shore. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“Please don’t let my cold mess this up for you,” you plead.

Sirius gives you a stern look. “Shush.” 

“Angel, how could it?” James asks in a nicer tone. “We’ll still be together, won’t we?” 

[lovebugism]

hello sweetheart, i read your prompt list and saw this one "hug?” “clingy, much?……” but hugs them anyway and my heart melted, i don't know if you already did this, but can we have something like that with our sweet but grumpy eddie? 🤍

ty for requesting! — eddie doesn't know why you're avoiding him (fluff, ditzy!reader, 0.9k)

Eddie lost sight of you ten minutes ago. 

You were squished between Robin and Steve on the loveseat last he saw you, giggling into your solo cup while they belted Total Eclipse of the Heart to you — at you — over the music and in their best Muppet impressions. 

He only remembers it so vividly ‘cause he was jealous. Not jealous because you were subjected to Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum’s drunken antics, of course, but jealous because you were with them. And so, so far away. 

Now you’re gone, and he misses you like a stray dog — aggressive and hungry and hurt. He walks up to Steve in the kitchen just the same. Hair wild. Button eyes glittering. Slightly reluctant. 

“Where’d she go?!” he shouts over the music, half-muffled into his drink. He uses the plastic cup like a shield ‘cause he doesn’t want people to know he’s missing you. The metalhead freak from the wrong side of town isn’t supposed to need the ball of sunshine from the suburbs. 

But alas.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Steve slurs, half-distracted as he pours himself a drink. He doesn’t need Eddie to tell him who she is. There’s only one person in the whole world he’d go looking for. “She went outside with Robin, I think—”

Eddie spins on the worn heel of his sneaker before the words can properly leave his mouth. He ducks through the bustling, drunken crowd and finds you sitting lonesome on the porch outside. Prettier than the full moon and all the stars in the velvet black sky combined. 

He walks to stand beside you, shoes thunking heavy on the wooden deck. You tilt your chin to smile brightly up at him while he slips a cig into his mouth. He cups the stick as he lights it. Pretends that’s what he came out here for. Not to see you, of course. 

Definitely not.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he mumbles beneath the cigarette in his mouth.

“Robin just left,” you answer plainly, half-shy.

“Why didn’t you come find me?” he asks with an air of nonchalance, still trying to play it cool. ‘Cause there’s nothing less metal than yearning.

You shrug. “‘Cause you were busy?”

It’s easier than telling him that you thought he wanted the space. Or that you actually spent the whole night aching to hang on his side — too scared of embarrassing him in front of all his friends to act on it. 

You know who you are just like you know who he is. Bubblegum pink doesn’t always go well with black. It gets in your hair. Makes everything go all sticky. It’s an acquired taste you know Eddie’s still getting used to — too much of it, and his stomach will start to hurt. So you figure it’s best to keep your distance.

You just didn’t think he was as grieved by it all as you were.

Eddie scoffs. I’m never too busy for you, he wants to say. He might’ve if he wasn’t such a coward. Instead, he blows smoke from his lungs and jokes, “I wouldn’t call keeping Argyle from crowd-surfing in the living room busy, sweetheart.”

A laugh tumbles from his plush lips. The golden sound falls over your skin like stars. You smile absentmindedly back at him as you rise from the creaking rocking chair. You plant your feet ahead of his and smooth your palms beneath his leather jacket, over his warm sides.

Eddie meets your twinkling eyes with narrowed chocolate ones. “What?”

“Hug?” you ask in a mousy voice.

The boy laughs like he’s too cool for affection, though he’d be lying if he said your offer doesn’t have his chest sparkling something fierce. He flicks the cig to the ground — sheepish gaze going with it — before snuffing it out beneath his sneaker.

“Clingy much?” he scoffs.

You nod with a proud smile. 

Eddie’s chest swirls with an unfamiliar feeling. You’re strangely brave about all this — affection and love and all things sweet enough to make him gag. 

It makes him feel like he can feel brave, too.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and holds you with all the intensity of someone wanting to swallow you whole. You hug him back just the same. “I missed you,” you murmur with your cheek squished against his chest.

“Then what’re you avoidin’ me for, huh?” he teases, chin bobbing against your head.

You pull slightly back to squint at him. “I’m not avoiding you.”

“You’ve been hangin’ out with Steve and Robin the whole night,” he grieves, hiding his sincerity behind boyish theatrics. With a feigned pout that feels totally real, he says, “And you didn’t even sit next to me when we played Never Have I Ever.”

“I thought you wanted the space,” you confess in a hushed voice.

His face screws up like he’s tasted something sour. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know…” you shrug. “You always talk about how much you like being alone and stuff, so—”

“Well, yeah! I like my space— just not from you!”

It’s likely the least metal thing he’s ever said.

“Oh,” you hum, mouth contorting into a sheepish beam. “Well… Sorry.”

“Yeah. You should be,” he scoffs, mostly joking. He pouts softly and pulls you back into him again, nosing at your hair until his chapped lips brush your temple. “Just don’t let it happen again, alright?”

[saerins]

𝑩𝒀 𝑴𝒀 𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑬

dabi x reader. cw: they smoke, timeline is before dabi revealed who he was, mentions of death, very suggestive.

notes: for @saeist my beloved <3 i hope i didn’t massacre your boy :’)

“i’m bored,” you whine, sauntering over to the living room where the villain you’re so generously housing (for now) is sat, playstation controller between his palms, thumbs on the buttons, body half-naked leaving nearly nothing to your imagination.

you notice that he’s wearing your ex’s sweats, probably something he fished out of a random closet. but you also notice that dabi makes it look much better.

call yourself screwed up or whatever, but even in this age of impending war between heroes and villains, is it so bad to find dabi so attractive?

“and i’m a villain, what do you want?” dabi states the obvious, barely paying you any mind, eyes glued on the screen, blues and reds bouncing off his face from the game he’s playing.

normally, you’re too cautious to get up in his space, choosing to steer clear of him whenever he’s around. you’re too timid to even bring up the fact that you don’t come from money and it’d be really nice if he could pay some rent! unfortunately today, you’re not. you’ve just had a hell of a bad day, getting disrespected and ridiculed at work, and you’re in the mood for a distraction.

anything, even if it means it has to be dabi.

besides, you’ve been cohabitating for so many months now, he probably won’t kill you, right?

you take a puff from your device, blowing into the space in front of him, obscuring his vision even if just a little. his eyes narrow, turquoise hues flicking up as he sneers at you—but they soften, turning amused when he gets the hint; you’re the kind to wear your heart on your sleeve, it’s easier than normal to guess what you want.

“getting a little stressed out is all it takes for you to come my way?” the wide smirk that graces his face almost takes you aback; it almost makes you feel like he’s any other normal human being and you’re both a normal pair of people flirting.

you lean into it, finding that you don’t want to let go of it. the small glimpses of humanity you see in him are few and far between, and while you know it’s probably you reaching, it’s still intriguing.

“what flavour?” he asks you, nodding towards that little thing in your right palm as you straddle him on the couch, controller tossed to the side and already forgotten, even when the game’s still running. 

mirroring his smirk, you take another slow, long puff, pressing your forehead against his as you exhale, “wanna take a guess?”

dabi watches as you take another puff, eyes staring into his like you could be medusa. and you’re irritating, because there’s no way he can tell whatever’s rolling off of your tongue when you’re this close. you’re saying something, and you’re taking another puff, and everything’s muffled—all the noises are one, and all he can do is stare at your lips, half-lidded with his hands on your waist.

not a thought crosses his mind when his other hand pulls your neck close, his mouth pressing over your own, his eyes glinting with mischief as he inhales whatever’s left inside of you before pulling away and leaving you breathless.

“ew, what is that, peach pop or some shit?” he grimaces, internally chuckling when he sees you mildly horrified thinking he meant otherwise.

you roll your eyes, “excuse you, it’s grape yoghurt and i think it tastes great.” you’re ready to retract the idea of doing anything with dabi, moving to get off of him when his firm grip around your waist tightens, pulling you back.

“mmmm,” he hums, low and raspy and it’s like you can feel the distance closing in between the two of you. “i wanna know what you taste like without all that bubblegum coating though.”

is it possible for just simple words to heighten your emotions like this?

dabi doesn’t even let you get any words out before his palms slip under your shirt, so rough and so different but so welcome. he makes quick work of flipping you so that your back hits the couch, his body hovering over you.

when you’re forced to look at him like this, you can tell so much more than when you stare at him through the tv screen being hailed as an arsonist maniac. like how his eyes are so blue and how the black dye in his hair is falling off in some places. his body is more purple than normal, and you wonder just what he had been through to turn out like this.

his lips come up to yours, only for it to be stopped by your index finger coming in between. he tilts his head to the side, an amused grunt leaving his lips. “i don’t get a taste?”

“you will,” you assure him, but not before you get to be a little selfish. “once you tell me your name.”

“you know my name.”

“your real name.”

dabi sighs, rolling his eyes and getting off of you, relegating back to his original position and ignoring you.

annoyed, you take another puff and blow it at him, his jaw clenching in irritation.

“you waltz in here one day demanding either i leave or put you up, you refuse to tell me why or who you were but thank god for the news one day that reported on you and the other people in the league, i’ve never reported you or asked you anything until now and you still refuse to tell me?” you recount, giving a dramatic sigh as you sit up. you put on a pout knowing that he can still see you out of the corner of his eye. “give me something, dabi.”

feeling particularly bold today, your fingers trail a line down his arms. you can feel the heat radiating off of him and you can’t tell what it means, whether it’s just a bodily reaction to your words or if he’s about to blow this place to ashes.

but the next thing you know, he’s pushing you back down on the couch, his lips on yours and he’s kissing you this time, barely letting you catch your breath. are you crazy if you think this is him telling you not to go? your hands come up around his neck, careful with the way you touch his skin, and you’re considered breathless once again when you hear him breathe a name into your mouth.

“touya.”

he pulls away for a few seconds after that, and you let it sink in. he only says it once, probably because there’s some story attached to his real identity that he doesn’t like. and it’s enough for you.

“that enough for you?” he asks, though he doesn’t wait for an answer, hands pawing at your shirt before he removes it.

he’s not sure why he even told you his name. he’s not sure why he hasn’t burnt you to ashes like countless others. he’s not sure why you’re so addictive somehow—why this one interaction is enough to make him feel some sort of relief.

but he knows one thing: if it isn’t a sin, could he keep you?

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways to Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

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Edit: this tagging system sucks. I just fixed it! Sorry if you weren’t tagged originally!

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multi chapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, (major) use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, general horniness

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour or body shape/type

Word Count: 4.1k

Chapter 3

The heat is unbearable, the kind that provides the motivation not to do anything but lie in bed all day spread out so one could confuse them as a starfish. It’s hot enough the house wide AC feels too weak for a job this tough and needs to call in backup. The fan that stands alone rotating as it blows cold air through your room is nowhere near enough backup. 

Your skin feels sticky, your hair as far away as possible from your sweaty skin as you melt in the sweltering heat. One more than one occasion you’ve scooped under your tits to wipe at the sweat that has pooled there, coming up with miraculously slick hands. 

Fuck it’s too hot for clothes. 

The summer sun has been working late night shifts as of late, staying out until 8 or 9. As much as you revel in the longer daylight hours, today you’ve decided you hate the sun. You check the time, hoping it’s 3 or 4 in the afternoon already, having decided to forego your phone due to its inefficiency from distracting you from the heat and therefore lost track of time. 

It’s only 12:30. 

You swear softly, in a quick decision you can’t stay still anymore and need to go in your stash to fucking relax. You put on a light tank top and short jean shorts, lifting your hair off your sticky neck into a bun as you pocket your phone, some joints and some cash for an ice cream cone. 

Smoke a joint on the way, indulge on some delicious ice cream then stumble back home for what will probably be quality time with your vibrator. Seems like a decent plan.

When you get downstairs Eddie is lounging on the couch with one leg over the armrest, sunken in the corner as he watches the tv with a glazed look in his eyes in a muscle t-shirt and his long locks in a bun. He seems to share the same sentiment that it is too damn hot. His eyes shift to you as you put on your flip flops, sitting up with loud curiosity on his face. 

“I’m going to go for a walk and get some ice cream, it’s too fucking hot,” you tell him, one hand on the scorching door handle. You hiss, shaking it in a jerk move as you glance down at it. “Ow.”

”Yeah, I learned my lesson the hard way,” he observes, stretching as he stands up, his arms over his head as the lift of his shirt reveals a tuft of dark hair. 

You shake yourself out of it, opening the door quickly underneath your shirt before the handle has a chance to burn your skin again and step out into the blistering sun, putting the sunglasses over your eyes as you reach the end of the driveway. Behind you a set of running footsteps startle you, the slapping of sandals on pavement having you turn to face a set of wild curly hair falling out of its ponytail as its owner catches up to you.   

He’s smiling ear to ear, bearing those dazzling dimples when he sees your perplexed face. “A walk for some ice cream sounds really nice, when I thought about it.” You blink up at him, processing his words and distracted by the sheen layer of sweat on his toned arms. It’s a dangerous automatic shut down on your brain. 

Eddie falters, stepping back as you continue staring up at him, jaw slack and speechless. “Unless, you’d prefer to be alone—“ 

You finally snap out of it, almost swinging to grab his hand out of pure reflex. “No, um, it’s just a bit of a walk and I was gonna take my time and uh…smoke for a bit.” God, that sounded terrible.  

His eyes light up, his wild grin back on his face in a flash. “A joint and ice cream? Now that’s a hot day.” He starts putting his hair back into the ponytail, a god damn scrunchie, starting ahead as you stand dumbly on the driveway. ”Now you wouldn’t mind turning this into a blunt rotation would you?” 

Are you kidding me? Like are you actually fucking kidding me? 

“I only got two joints,” you hold them out from the stash in your bra apologetically, as you pretend to hesitate in accepting his offer. 

He yoinks one out of your hand, lighting it in a flash. “Joint’s a joint,” he states, warbled from the blunt in his half open mouth. He closes his eyes as he takes a big inhale, bliss taking over his face as it hits his lungs. “Oh that’s some good shit.” He passes it to you, clearing his throat. “Who’s the dealer these days, because that did not come from a dispensary.”

“How—“ you stop at his raised brow, grinning around the joint as you take your first inhale. God, that hits the spot. “Right. It’s some kid named Mickey. Mickey…Carver, I think.”

Eddie's fingers brush against yours as he takes it back, looking pensive as he breathes it in. “So you’re telling me that Jason Carver's son is the new dealer?” He breathes it out, grinning maniacally. “Fuck, that’s poetic.”

You’re about three doors down already, but you’re already feeling it. Usually you take much more time between inhales, not wanting to be stoned in the convenience store. It’s at least another three blocks away. “Right…I forgot his dad is the mayor. I think he’s like the black sheep of his family.” 

“Oh, sweet justice,” he mutters, yet you find yourself having no interest in the context. “Would your dad happen to know about this little past time of yours?” 

You take another inhale of the joint, absorbing the ache in your lungs for a moment longer than you usually do. “I don’t know if he does.” You shrug, stumbling past one of the sidewalk cracks. “I’m not all that covert about it.”  

“How much he smoked in college, I don’t think he’d care,” Eddie comments, chuckling. 

You stop, staring at Eddie with your mouth half open. Eddie is yanked back, tugged by his hand on your wrist. Huh, when did that get there? “You okay, there, sweetheart?”

You’re so fixated on your dad smoking you don’t even have time to process his use of the nickname. “My dad smokes pot?” 

Eddie bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling shut as he throws his head back. “Your dad has absolutely smoked pot, sweetheart. Only every time he comes to see us in concert.” 

Yet another thing that short circuits your brain, staring at him as if he grew a second head. “When has my dad seen you in concert?” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide, his laughter stopping almost altogether. “Oh shit, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you that,” he mutters, seemingly fixated on the bushes right next to the house you’re standing in front of. 

“When does my father come see you in concert?” You glare, stepping forward more into his personal space with your hands arms tightly crossed. 

“Every tour since you were born?” He answers, giving you a weak smile as he grimaces. 

“What!?” You bark, tightening up your crossed arms. “Every concert? You’ve been going on tour consistently for the last 22 years!”

He throws his hands up in surrender, smoke floating up from the last remaining bits of the first joint still between two fingers. He holds it up for you, face just a bit cautious as he says, “You look Iike you need this.”

You yoink it from his fingers, taking a deep enough breath to kill the joint up to the filter. You’re not sure if its the company, the heat, or the weed, but this news really threw you off, and yes, you really needed it. The filter lands on the ground when you flick it, mindlessly pulling out the next joint and your own lighter from your bra.

As the end glows in amber, you take another deep inhale, forgetting Eddie’s still only a few feet away in front of you. You basically accidentally shotgun him. You pass it to him, seemingly completely unfazed by the puff of smoke you just blew in his face. 

You jerk your head, suddenly remembering you’re supposed to be going for a walk. “Walk, we’re supposed to be walking,” you mumble to yourself, stepping away from Eddie as he laughs out a cloud. 

A hand lands on your shoulder, startling you as you continue on the scorching pavement. You haven’t even hit the first crosswalk, yet and you’ve gone all fuzzy. You jerk your head back in surprise, turning your head to look up at him inquisitively. 

“Sweetheart, you’re drifting,” he answers, using his wrist to fix your diagonal gait. “I think you’re very stoned.” 

“It’s possible,” you muse, allowing the overwhelming scent of his cologne to float to the back of your mind. If it was the first thing, it would be the only thing. 

The conversation quiets down for a bit, Eddie still keeping you somewhat steady as he continues to pass you the joint back and forth. 

You’re in the middle of a mental spiral, thoughts coming and going, passing through like thoughts on a road until one particularly flashy thought passes by. “I had no idea he was going to your concerts,” you chirp out of nowhere, waiting for the light to indicate you can cross. 

“To be fair it's not the best place for a kid,” he mutters, trying to make you feel better. 

“‘M not a kid,” you deadpan, smoking a little bit of the last of the second joint. 

“Compared to me, yes.” You glare at him, wanting to wipe off that stupid little smug grin off his face. “Regardless I’m sure your dad just needed some time off. He’s a single father of four kids, for Fuck’s sake.” 

“I didn’t tell him to knock my mom up four times,” you mutter to yourself, earning another scoff from him. 

“Wow, your filter is down, huh?” He chuckles, leading you across the crosswalk and towards the convenience store. “Don’t give your dad a hard time, he’s trying his best.” 

You wanna move on from your dad so you’re no longer feeling guilty as you stare at his toned arms.  Like, right now. Your eyes fiddle around the sidewalk, looking for any suitable topic of conversation. Anything. A chorus of laughter fills the air, your attention snapped to it immediately. As soon as you see the culprits, you blanch in disgust, jerking your attention back as you approach the convenience store entrance. 

“Oh, god, gross,” you groan, stumbling as you push the glass door open. 

Eddie trails a few feet behind you, leaning down as he asks, “Wh-what just happened?” 

The repetitive motion of ice cream scooping hypnotizes you, catching you in a trance until Eddie bumps his hip into yours. “Hmm?” 

“Outside. What was that?” He asks, pointing towards the door. 

Oh, right, that. “Oh, my ex boyfriend,” you explain, wondering if you’re swaying on your feet or if the store just turned into a boat all the sudden. “Two years of my life I’ll never get back.” 

“Which one was he?” He asks, putting one hand on your shoulder to steady you again.  

If he were anyone else, you’d shrug him off, literally and metaphorically, offended at their need to ‘take care of you,’ so to speak. But your lowered inhibitions and inexplicable draw towards him allow the words to free flow out your mouth. “The idiot with the Oakley sunglasses hitting on what is probably the youngest girl he can without getting arrested— ooh they have cookie dough.”

Eddie chuckles, one hand on your shoulder as he pushes you forward. “They called for you about five times now, sweetheart.” 

Oh, oops. 

The teen with braces and her hair in braided pigtails, clearly working as a summer gig, looks annoyed as you stumble forward. “I um, want one scoop of cookie dough and one scoop of cookies n’ cream in a chocolate covered waffle cone, please.” 

As she gets to work, pulling on gloves for what is probably the thousandth time for the day, reaching up for a cone off where they sit stacked Eddie leans in to say, “You know that’ll melt by the time you get home, right?” 

You watch the girl scoop the ice cream, your grin growing wider with each addition of ice cream. “That makes it all the more fun to eat,” you smirk, biting your lip playfully. 

The teen, Emma, you hazily notice from the name tag, holds out the cone with a measly single thin napkin. You have the foresight to understand the single napkin won’t be enough, but not to grab more. 

You dig in humming as the first taste of cookie dough has a perfect little chunk of doughy goodness as Eddie orders a chocolate and vanilla soft serve swirl. 

In mid bite you cough, almost exaggeratedly looking back and forth between your ice cream and the soft serve coming from its machine onto the cone. “What?” He asks, rocking on his heels. 

You take another taste, “Nothing,” taste, “just,” holy shit this is good, “um…”

“Just…?” 

He interrupts a rather delicious lick, eyes closed as you tilt the cone for a better angle. “Wha?” 

“Oh, my god, thank God Steve’s out of town, or he’d kill me,” Eddie chuckles, grabbing the cone from Emma. 

”Why?” You ask, the ice cream remaining on your lips as you take another bite. 

“Because you are outrageously stoned- here you go, sweetheart,” your bottom lip pouts out at the use of the nickname toward the blushing teen, crossing one arm across your stomach as the cash register dings. 

You have half a heart to thank him for paying, glad you wouldn’t have to hand over sweaty underboob cash as you start your way out when you hear your name, vaguely, then loudly. Oh god. You are not prepared to be hounded by—

“Andy!” You grimace, wiping some excess dessert from your jaw. “Hi! You here on break?” 

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes, that same old cocky look smeared on his face. On Eddie it’s charming. On Andy it’s nauseating.  “I dropped out in the first semester. I did not need to stay very long to know I know more than any of those pompous assholes.” 

Hmm. You’re astounded. At his gull and that he knows what pompous means. “Guess all that talk about getting out of Hawkins was just talk,” you mutter, sloppily taking another bite.  

You must’ve mumbled, as Andy leans in like he has no idea what you’ve said. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” you dismiss, missing Eddie glowering at him over your shoulder. 

“Well, now that you’re in town,” he starts, brazenly grabbing you by the elbow, “what do you say we take some time and uh, revisit old times, yeah?” 

You jerk your elbow away from him, your face squishing up at disgust by his sleazy voice suggesting you lie under him one more time for a rousing, unsatisfying round of mediocrity. “Ew, I’m good.” 

“Now don’t be like that, pretty peach,” you always hated when he called you that, the reminder sending a chill down your spine that had nothing to do with the ice cream itself. “What’s one more night?” 

Only now do you realize he’s only tightened his grip on your elbow, ice cream in your other hand nearly forgotten as the hair on your arms rise. Eddie pops up, the memory of his prescience and the terror that takes over Andy’s face both send a rush of relief right through you. 

“Take your slimy little hand off her, you pathetic little weasel,” Eddie’s voice is rough and assertive, the soft serve ice cream miraculously held stable in his other hand as he starts to bend the arm that was on your elbow unnaturally backwards. “She said ‘ew, no’”

”Ow,” Andy’s once bravado is turned weak, wiggling like a worm on a hook as he cries out his little yelps of pain. “Okay, okay!” 

“If I want unsatisfying and awful sex, I’ll let you know.” Hmm, you glance back down to the cone that melted only the littlest bit, the top layer now softened and flowing down to the chocolate covered crust.You take a bite from the chocolate, the mix of cookie dough flavour with the chocolate exactly what you had in mind the whole walk over. ”Get lost, Andy.” 

You feel Eddie close behind you as the sweltering sun welcomes you, a town wide sauna you don’t think you’d ever be so glad to walk into after being engrossed in a fridge temperature. “God, if never see Andy Lewis again, it’ll still be too soon, fuck that creep.” 

“You dated him? For two years?” Eddie asks incredulously, having already eaten a chunk of his sweet tasty treat. 

“Low self esteem and a parade of gaslighting would have you believe that he was the best boyfriend ever,” you sweetly smile, squinting your eyes as you take yet another bite of the cookie dough starting to blend with cookies n cream. As the blend explodes your taste buds, some trails down your fingers messily in the hot sun, completely rendering your soaked napkin useless.   

His eyebrows furrow, giving you a look of what you assume can only be pity for a girl who thought that was a good boyfriend and had minuscule self worth until some dude in her freshman English class begged to eat her out. You still go to those receipts when you need the confidence boost. 

Unfortunately for you, when you’re stoned and the very idea of sex crosses your mind, it sends you down a spiral. The unsatisfying sex with a gross sweaty Andy isn’t the thing that set it off, but the first time your legs shook certainly turned the faucet on. Next to you, Eddie takes your silence in stride, allowing you to float in your own hazy brain as he works to finish his cold treat before it disappears at the unforgiving hands of the blistering heat. He’s seemingly lost in the taste, the desert already down to the hilt of the cone as his tongue scoops, disappearing as he focuses on the flavour.

The drop of ice cream splashing your toe alerts you of the multiple trails of cream coloured sugar, your ice cream starting to resemble soup. Dammit. You start cleaning up your hand, quickly stroking your tongue down your hand as you attempt to grab control of the situation at hand. Your hand remains sticky as you move on to the ice cream soup that has cultivated in the chocolate shell, no more semblance of where cookies and cream started and cookie dough ended. No matter, guess it’s just a melted milkshake at this point, you shrug, starting to drink, grateful you haven’t eaten much of the cone yet.  

Eddie starts slurping a little louder as he gets to the end of his soft serve, a noise you allow to simply exist in the background like white noise as arousal seemed to steadily pool deep in your gut. At this point you’re not sure if it’s the extra joint or the attraction you know better than to act on but his exuberant wet noises and grunts of satisfaction seem loud, flooding your ears until it’s all you can focus on. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have worn shorts, the arousal having surely made its way down your thighs and past their frayed edges right below your ass. “You that stoned or did your ex boyfriend just spook ya?” 

You blink back to Eddie, chewing on the last few bites of the chocolate cone. It's sadly not the same without the last little bit of ice cream tucked in. “Hmm?” 

He looks at you pointedly, raising his brow as he starts to brush the hair out of his eyes, fixing the wisps of black bangs. 

“Oh,” you giggle, the sentence finally registering. “I forgot I ran into Andy, honestly. I’m just super stoned and really need to—“ you cut yourself off, swallowing what is suddenly a very hefty case of cotton mouth, “take a shower,” you amend, ignoring Eddie’s intense stare. 

It could’ve been intense, but the more you focus on the ever increasing need for friction, the more you grow increasingly aware of everything he’s doing. 

“I just smoked a lot more and a lot faster than what I’m used to,” you mutter, fidgeting with your bun, at this point a mess of strands. 

Eddie leans in close, using his pointer and middle finger to lift your chin up to face him. He’s much closer than you expect, able to see the finer details on his face even the most HQ photos couldn’t reveal. You blink, suddenly unable to remember the basic function of breathing. 

“Next time don’t push yourself too hard when you know your tolerance isn’t as good as the person you’re smoking with. You could’ve told me.” Strange, he doesn’t sound disappointed, not in you, anyways. Just at your flagrant disregard for your own limits. His voice is smooth, yet demanding, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“O-ok,” you stutter, thinking about the pads of his two fingers against your skin, picturing him taking the pointer and shoving it past your lips. The mental image quakes your knees. God you should’ve known your body would react this extreme to Eddie, weed has always been a catalyst for raging lust. 

Unable to handle the eye contact for much longer, you rip your chin out from his grasp, recognizing the shrub you usually walked past on your way to school.

“I-I really need that shower,” you mutter, walking ahead of him to the long, windy driveway leading up to the Harringtons. Eddie’s flip flops smack against his heels step by step steadily behind you as you open the door, remembering Eddie’s haste as he tried to catch up to you. 

He says nothing as you rush up the stairs, slamming the door behind him as he saunters into the living room to fool around his guitar. 

The blasting air conditioner should be refreshing after spending an hour or so in the hot blazing sun with no water, but it does little to off-set the raging fire coursing through you. Your face feels hot, stretching to scratch an itch you know can only be scratched one way when you're as blitzed as you are. 

It’s one thing to picture him when he’s a million miles away in LA or on covers of magazines, but its another entirely when he’s right downstairs after a walk in during which he defended your honour. 

You switch back to it, his commanding tone and demonstration of strength as he so effortlessly pushed a boy whose name you don’t even want to think about in this cloud of overwhelming desire. You open your eyes, standing in the middle of your room, the weight of your hand trailing over your skin suddenly heavy but doing its job all the same. 

You kick off your sandals, having forgotten to at the front door. The shorts and thong come off as well, having no patience in teasing yourself as you normally do. Your head meets your pillow, legs spread as you start to make yourself comfortable. 

As soon as your core meets the air the stark realization of how wet you are sinks in, the arousal slick down your thighs at this point ready for something more… You feel the sharp exhale deep in your belly, rolling over you in an impatient wave begging for some kind of relief. 

As your fingers start to roll across your clit, you gasp in how wet you are. It usually takes a vibraor and some self teasing to get this far, Jesus. For some reason the fingers aren’t doing enough, whining needing as you attempt to get the friction you so desperately need. 

As two fingers slide through the weeping, begging hole you grind the heel of your hand against your clit, desperately lifting your hips up to meet it. Right now you don’t even have to picture him doing anything particularly dirty like his hips rolling against yours as he fucks into you or his pretty brown eyes peering up from between your legs. 

No.

Just the demonstration of his strength as he so easily yanked the asshole’s arm back and his commanding, harsh tone was doing it for you. His sun-kissed skin, the halo of bright yellow sun surrounding his curls, his toned arms…his lips so close to yours, that was enough to get you halfway there. 

And loud enough for any potential wandering ears. 

-

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She might get juicy next ch

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I post each part every Thursday!!

[starpens]

. ･｡･ self checkout ࿐ nagi seishiro.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content ㆍ﹒fluff, aged up!nagi, pro footballer!nagi, height difference (reader is shorter than nagi), shopping trips, slightly suggestive, established relationship. f!reader. w.c. 2k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis ㆍ﹒nagi enjoys running errands if the two of you go together. & ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: baby’s first blue lock fic !! honestly i’m supa nervous bc i haven’t written 4 them before n i’m still figuring things out but i hope u enjoy reading this anw <333

“this date is so tiring,” nagi laments for the fifth time since you stepped through the automated sliding doors of the neighborhood supermarket. he blows out a breath from his puffed cheeks, sounding as if he is on the verge of collapsing while you browse the shelves for pantry essentials and late night snacks. “when can we go home?”

a trendy song from a summer spotify mix croons over the tinny speakers overhead, its bubblegum pop lyrics interrupted every now and then by a cheery voice advertising new items and upcoming discounts. the supermarket is busier than when you and seishiro usually stop by, which isn’t all that surprising considering it’s the end of the day. college students carry armfuls of instant ramen and sugary sodas for study sessions and old ladies browse for medicinal teas while parents push full carts of groceries, ignoring their wailing children who press their little noses against the frosty glass of the freezers, begging to be given overpriced ice creams locked away inside.

and you resist the urge to roll your eyes with exasperation, glancing over to where your boyfriend leans heavily on the handle of the cart he has been tasked with pushing for you— his long fingers tapping away at a mobile game on the screen of his phone.

“that’s because,” you begin, wagging a finger at him when you turn around and toss an item into the bottom of the cart. “it’s not a date, sei. i told you that i had to run errands today and you insisted on coming with me when you hate it.”

“‘s’boring at home when you’re not there, so it seemed like a good idea at first,” he shrugs, rolling the cart further down the aisle when you’re on the move again. slothy, midwinter gray eyes drag lazily over your body— taking in the way your faded t-shirt (which is, really, just one of his old ones) rides up a little on your body, exposing the cute little dimples in the soft part of your back as you stand on your tiptoes, struggling to reach one of the higher shelves in the freezer section.

you are well aware that nagi hates daily tasks. things such as making the bed in the morning, washing the dishes after dinner, or visiting the laundromat once a week requires too much energy from your drowsy footballer boyfriend, but it makes you happy to know that he tries, even if he falls asleep while doing it; that he will do anything if you are involved, and nothing if you aren’t.

like right now, he abandons his mobile game and the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle without care to come over and help you, making a mother of two-under-two glare at him viciously. he snorts, sliding his hand into the back pocket of your denim shorts, a romantic comedy habit of his when the two of you are walking anywhere together. nagi’s head tilts cutely to one side, blinking owlishly up at the shelves. “which one d’you wanna get, shortstack?”

“i am not short,” you huff, twisting your mouth to one side at his teasing, but you point to the item you want— an assorted pack of ice lollies. “shelves are designed against short people. and i dunno— are we in the mood for ice cream or popsicles?”

it’s hard to make a decision because freezers full of summer treats line both sides of the aisle. tubs of gourmet gelatos, variety packs of creamy ice candies, and an endless selection of mochi with custard fillings in the middle that make your mouth water at the thought of bringing them home with you.

“i’ll eat them no matter what anyway,” he shrugs, unwilling to be the one to choose, but then his gray eyes glance down at your lips, then back to the items in front of you. you swear that his eyes darken to a stormier color, even though his expression never changes. “you make cute sounds when you suck on ice pops, and you always taste sweet after. get those.”

and then he faces forward, browsing the selection of ice creams with interest, as if his words didn’t short circuit a current in your brain. you’ll never understand how seishiro can say the most outlandish things so casually, only to return to what he’s doing while you’re left attempting to calm your fast heart.

“ice pops it is,” you say, a little winded. “make sure to get the second pack, and not the first.”

“mhnn, why’s it matter? the second one’s farther back. they all look the same to me.”

“they’re not. the first is one everybody has touched or returned.”

“that . . . makes sense,” he considers it, then he nods, lips formed into a little ‘o’ shape. “okay, we’ll get the second one.”

you watch as he steps forward, pushing the first pack of ice lollies aside to select the second as you requested, reaching the item with ease and heavens, it’s moments like these when you are reminded just how much bigger seishiro is. he’s always towered over your shorter height and it’s so, so unfair how he uses it to his advantage, making your tummy burn at the sight. frosty air wafts from the open door of the freezer, bringing chills over your heated skin. “‘s a good thing i was here, since you’re so little— there was no way you could reach it.”

“‘m not little,” you mumble, all pouty because nagi is squishing your cheeks between two finger pads. “you’re just so tall. it’s unfair.”

“want me to be shorter?” he asks, and before you can ask what he means, nagi drops the pack of ice pops into your hands and deflates dramatically, bending down to drape himself over your frame. his head tucked against your shoulder, the footballer’s milky fringe tickling the skin of your neck as he closes his eyes. “man, now ‘m even more tired.”

“seishiro, you’re heavy.”

“i know,” he sighs, eyes shuttering below thick lashes, but he makes no effort to move away from your body. instead, his hand slithers under your shirt. making you shiver because his fingertips are dewy and cold from the arctic blast of the freezer and the frozen treat he picked up. you hiss, squirming under his touch as his fingers trail across your belly. “but i’m tired ‘n’ you feel s’soft, like a pillow.”

“nagi, off,” you wheeze, his extra weight making it hard for you to properly breathe. it’s easy to forget how solid he is, straight lines of athletic muscle that usually has you cow-eyed and cooing, as long as it’s not weighing you down in the middle of a supermarket. you try to shake him off, but the midfielder only squeezes you against his body even tighter, his slightly damp lips pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “we’re never gonna get anything done like this, you lazy boy. if you don’t wanna walk, go wait in the sitting area with the grandpas.”

he sighs in defeat and shakes his head, pressing his lips together in that cute frown he pulls whenever he’s thinking. then, he’s dropping his arms from you suddenly. “mmhn, got a better idea.”

“and what’s that—”

you face nagi, only to catch your boyfriend with one foot in the shopping cart as he tries to hoist himself over the railing and inside of the basket.

“sei, you can’t fit in there—!” your eyes flicker between him, and the elderly man judging the two of you at the other end of the aisle. “you’re too big.”

“you’re always saying things like that,” he says, and the innuendo intertwined in the words flies over your pretty head because with one boost, he’s hopping over the railing and sinking into the cart, the metal rattling in protest. you stand there, dumbstruck as he settles. “now i can stay with you without walking.”

“yeah, but now that means i have to push you,” you grumble. “i should leave you here and get a new cart.”

but it’s hard to refuse when your boyfriend is that cute. his impossibly long legs are folded against his chest so that he can fit inside the shopping cart comfortably, taking extra care not to crush any of the delicate items surrounding him. the lower half of his face is buried into the collar of his soft hoodie as he absently chews on the drawstrings, but you can still see the sanrio bandaid you put on him yesterday after he got a nasty elbow to the cheek during football practice.

even though you two are already receiving strange looks from other shoppers passing by, you grip the handle, pushing the cart and your boyfriend dutifully, rolling it onto the next aisle.

“you look ridiculous,” you tell him, but you’re grinning. “but here, you’re on list duty. what do we need to get next?”

nagi’s eyes dutifully scan over the shopping list open in the notes app of your phone, his fingernail scrolling the screen lightly.

“it says ‘ramen because my greedy athlete bf keeps eating it all’ so y’need to get . . . oi, you mean me—”

“i wonder who wrote that there,” you whistle innocently, plucking the device out of his hands, wheeling him away fast.

the rest of your shopping trip is a blur, except for you turning a corner too fast and nearly dumping him out of the cart or the weird looks shoppers continue to give you because by the time you’re lining up in the queue, nagi is buried under the items because he takes up too much space. there’s a bag of rice on one shoulder, a pack of ramen on the other and fresh radishes sprouting from the snowy peaks of his head. not to mention, he’s still holding the pack of ice pops, condensation dripping over his hands.

“you’re making them melt, sei.” because he runs hot a heated blanket in the summer, and you can sympathize with the poor popsicles being defrosted in his big hands.

“‘m gonna eat one so they won’t— oh, hey this one is lemon,” he says, prying open the cardboard lid and tearing open the plastic wrapper of a lemon crème ice pop. tongue peeking out to lick before he’s holding it over his shoulder for you to taste next. “try it. i don’t sound as cute as you when i eat them.”

“sei, you’re not supposed to open those before we—” but nagi pushes the cold treat between your lips insistently, your eyes rounding wide, whining in protest as the ice pop hits your sensitive teeth. but it does taste good— creamy, sweet and sour flavors coating the surface of your tongue. “oh, it’s sh’good. we should get another pack.”

“see? y’make the cutest sounds when you suck it.”

“shut up, seishiro.”

you begin placing the items on the conveyor belt, listening to the irritating bleep, bleep, bleep of the scanner as the cashier rings up each product. you’re not frugal, but you peep at the total on the screen every now and then with a wince.

“that’s it for you, or are you buying the man in your cart too, ma’am?” the cashier asks, glancing at nagi as he finishes off the melting ice pop in the shopping cart, chin resting on top of his knees.

“no,” and you giggle, cheeks warming as you roll your eyes in exasperation. “this one is already mine.”

[angelqie]

ㅤㅤㅤ(FOL.1) ㅤㅤ✿ㅤㅤA PRETTY SIGHT

﹒﹒﹒ ALTERNAT𝑖VELY — getting them to pop your bubble gum from your lips （❀）

ㅤㅤㅤCONTENT ﹑엔하이픈 OT7 𝜗𝜚 female reader, WC.1277

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ you're the closest to heaven than i'll ever be

TR𝒾GGERS ✶ kissing, skinship, slightly suggestive, pet names/ nicknames

✉️ ﹑inspo from the princess diaries <3

𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

“Baby, let’s try something for my tiktok.” Usually, he’d be more than skeptical, eyeing you suspiciously from the number of things you’ve made him do for your tiktok. “If it doesn’t include kissing, I’m not interested.” He replied, stalking out of the kitchen and downing his fresh cup of coffee. 

“Lucky for you, it does include kissing this time.” His dark brown orbs widened in interest for a moment before relaxing into his usual slitted gaze. “I’m down.” Carefully chewing the bubblegum discretely, you suggested that you test it out first before filming. 

Without hesitation, he walked towards you, resting his hands on your waist and kissing you hard against your lips, taking you off guard. Barely managing to catch the gum before it reached the back of your throat, you reached your arms to his neck, gently tugging at the hair and bringing him closer to you. 

Pulling back for a moment, you skillfully blew the bubble, maintaining the hooded eye contact. As though he knew what you were going to do, he immediately reached down with his lips and popped the bubble gum, smiling against your lips as he reconnected them with his. 

After a few moments of the kiss, he pulled back, sporting his flirty grin. “We should do that more often.” 

𝐉𝐀𝐘

 “Come here for a minute, babe.” You called, chewing your gum speedily until it was the right consistency. Appearing by the doorway, he leant his body over it and stared at you in a daze. Looking up at his dumbstruck expression, you smiled and clapped your hands together to bring him back to reality. “Come here.” 

Standing up to meet him once he had reached you, you slowly slid your finger down his tie before pulling him into you and connecting your lips. Melting into the kiss, he rested his hands on the curve of your hips, spinning the two of you until he was in a seated position, and you were on his lap. 

Separating your lips, you blew the perfect bubble, only surprised to be met by him blowing one back at you with a light grin. Popping his own swiftly, he leaned into your frozen figure and popped your bubble with his lips. Blinking at him in utter confusion, you watched as he grinned back up at you and chewed leisurely. 

“I didn’t get my jawline from nowhere.” He spoke, slowly connecting your lips again.

𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄

After perfecting your bubblegum skills for days in anticipation of this moment, you finally called Jake in, more than ready to flaunt your skills. “I want to show you something.”  Pulling him to sit beside you, you moved your hands to his neck, gently brushing the hair on his nape. 

Studying your every move, his eyes followed yours as you looked back at him, pulling him into your lips. Happily responding to the kiss, his lips dominated yours, momentarily disarming you. 

Withdrawing from his lips, you prepared to blow the bubblegum, noticing that you didn’t feel it in your mouth. Confusion laced your features while you wondered whether you swallowed it by accident in the process. In the middle of your thoughts, Jake blew a bubble from your former bubblegum and inches it to your lips, watching you pop it. 

Pulling the remnants of the gum back into his mouth, he grinned at your deflated features. “Why did you ruin it?” You pouted.

Unwrapping new bubble gum from its packet, he shoved it into your mouth. “I guess we’ll have to do it again then.”

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

“I’ve been wanting to try something recently.” You began, scurrying barefoot out of the bedroom and into the sitting room, where you found your boyfriend fiddling with his phone. Humming, he turned his attention to you and watched you excitedly chew the gum in your mouth. 

Dubiously sitting up, his face contorted into a look of confusion while he watched you sit directly in front of him and haul his head forward. Without giving him a moment to speak, you wordlessly planted a kiss on his lips, catching him by surprise. 

Quickly recovering, he deepened the kiss and moved his lips in sync against yours. Detaching your lips for a moment to blow the bubble, you watched as he moved to pop the bubble, smiling softly as he did. “Cute way of sharing gum.” He remarked, leaning into your lips again.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎

 Only a few moments into watching the movie with him, you had already devised a plan on making it happen. After a week of practice, you called him over right after blowing the bubble finally worked. “What’s up? Why did you call me over so late?” He asked worriedly, exiting his car and walking up to you, making sure that you weren’t physically shaken or hurt. 

Meeting him with a grin, you hid the gum in your mouth and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Just wanted a kiss.” You spoke, rising onto the tips of your toes to meet his soft lips, already smiling the moment he felt yours against his. 

Feeling strangely hot for a cold evening, you moved back with a flushed expression. Managing to blow the perfect bubble, you watched his facial expression turn into a perplexed one before finally realising what you were doing. 

Gently placing his hands on your cheeks, he popped the bubble and replicated the cheesy grin on your face. “Points for creativity, but next time don’t get sick for this.” Nodding, you continued grinning, more than glad that your plan had worked— even if it meant getting sick for it.

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

“Jungwon, could you please come here?” You called, laying your head back against the arm of the couch. Watching your boyfriend saunter in, he bent down in front of you, finding it difficult to resist planting a peck on your lips. 

Continuing his action, he continued to pepper kisses all over your face, causing you to giggle from the ticklish feeling. After pushing back his shoulders to hinder him from moving down any further, you matched his grin. Chewing slowly, you held on to the sides of his face and pulled him closer as you were blowing the bubble. 

Raising his eyebrow momentarily, he opened his mouth to a small ‘o’ and popped the bubble on your lips, not hesitating to connect them with yours after you brought the rest of the gum into your mouth. “Interesting way of getting me to kiss you.” He spoke after pulling away, pinching your cheeks and planting more kisses on them.

𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing dragging me here?” He asked in the cramped space, hearing the party commence outside the room. “It’s not like it’s your first seven minutes in heaven, calm down.” You spoke, taking a seat on the small chair around. 

Chewing loudly, you watched as he paced slowly around the room, calling his assistants to let his parents know where he was. “Just tell them I’m at Jakes’.” Continuing your chewing, you glanced at his excessive movement, making you feel nauseous. 

“For heaven's sake would you stop moving?” You asked, trying and failing to turn your attention to something else due the minimal space in the room. “Would you stop chewing so loudly?” He bit back, watching your expression turn sour before pulling back into a smile. “Make me.” You challenged, blowing a bubble leisurely. 

Unexpectedly, he moved towards you and leaned down, popping the bubble on your mouth and connecting your lips, exploding the cherry flavour everywhere. Pulling back, you grinned up at him and stood up, closing the minimal space between you. “Looks like we do have something to do for seven minutes.” 

note. thank you so much for reading! all rights reserved, ©️ angelqie 2024. click here to join taglist!

[jintaka-hane]

For the new years event can i request heat and rain by sleep token 👉👈

Also asked by @heats-lover-girl <3

[Masterlist] Kiss your blorbo on New Year’s Eve

HEAT

Summary: If you play with fire, one day you'll get burned. Word count: 1100 Warning: x f!reader; rough kissing All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

If eyes could eat, you'd be nothing but skin and bones by now.

You love teasing him. In fact, it’s one of your favorite pastimes, and seeing how every little thing you do gets a reaction, you get bolder and bolder.

You always pick moments when he can’t touch you. Is he following orders from the captain? You strut across the deck right in front of him, grinning and swaying your hips. Is he meticulously working on some carpentry project that keeps his hands occupied? You call his name, then give him a flirty wink while biting your bottom lip. Is he busy demolishing an enemy crew? Being a walking flamethrower takes focus, but there you are, gazing at him seductively from a distance, wetting your lips and blowing kisses his way.

"One day, I’m gonna grab you and ain’t lettin’ go," he always growls when you push things a little too far, frustrated because he can’t lay a hand on you. But all bark and no bite, you think with a laugh, skipping away challengingly while his eyes eat you alive.

You know those sunken, haunted eyes of his have traced every inch of your body. That the teeth behind his scarred lips have nearly cracked from the tension of clenching them too hard. And that beads of sweat have slid down that tattooed neck of his as he imagines all the things he’d do to you if he could.

But the commander with the blue-tinted dreads never takes action. Maybe it’s shyness, or maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment. Either way, that threat of his never comes to fruition, and you keep provoking him, like a little bunny daring the wolf to strike.

“… and to kick off the year like the last, tomorrow at dawn, we’ll conquer another fucking island! NOW DRINK!” Kid shouts, half-drunk, concluding his usual New Year’s Eve speech.

The crew cheers, raising their drinks high and spilling them everywhere, though hardly anyone actually listened. They’re too busy fighting over bites of the epic feast Killer prepared, while the blonde tries to shove people away from the mountain of roasted meat.

It’s always chaos aboard the ship on New Year’s Eve. Preparations start out orderly enough, with tasks divided to decorate the ship using whatever you can get your hands on. Stolen shiny objects, glittering scraps of metal, or pieces of looted treasure. Everything’s fair game and counts as festive if you look at it the right way. But as soon as the captain climbs up onto the massive dinosaur skull to give his speech, things spiral out of control because you all know what comes next. Barrel races over the water, drinking competitions and arm-wrestling matches with high-stakes bets, and the traditional “treasure hunt,” with a very drunk Wire as the guardian.

You clutch your stomach, laughing uncontrollably as you lie sprawled on the deck, your clothes and hair completely soaked from the countless times Bubblegum has tossed you overboard. Quincy reaches out a hand to help you up, and you grab it, letting her pull you to your feet while swiping Hop’s drink on the way up.

“Hey!” she yells, launching herself at you and knocking you back to the ground. You can’t stop laughing, and amidst the playful scuffle, you feel it again. Those eyes burning holes into your body.

The tall commander hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you all night, his tattooed arms resting on the railing and his long hair cascading over his shoulders, staring at you as if you were the only person on the deck.

"Guys, guys, guys! The cannon!!! It’s almost midnight!!" Dive yells, bouncing up and down as she points at Kid, who sets his drink on the railing and aims the ship’s main cannon at the sky.

Everyone scrambles to their feet and rushes over there. It’s going to be spectacular when he fires it, and no one wants to miss the show. You wrap your arms around Quincy and Bubblegum, and at Killer’s signal, everyone starts shouting the countdown.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven, six!"

Kid lets out a wild howl at the top of his lungs, and the crew cheers, joining him before continuing with the countdown.

"Five, four, three, two, one!"

BOOOOOOOM!!

The captain laughs maniacally as he fires the cannon, the explosion shaking your chest and making you gasp as thousands of glittering scraps of metal rain down on you. The crew roars, and just as you open your mouth wide to shout “Happy New Year!”, a few taps on your shoulder stop you. Raising an eyebrow, you turn around, and for the first time since joining the Kid Pirates, you tremble.

"Got you," Heat says, his imposing figure looming over you, eyes filled with the desperation of a ravenous man. He grabs your cheeks, guides your face upward, and before you can react, crashes his mouth possessively onto yours. His tattooed lips move against yours in a rough, almost bruising kiss, leaving you with no choice but to surrender and kiss him back.

"UUUUH!!! Woohoo!! Go get her, Heat!" You hear cheers and whistles erupt from the crew.

The sparkling rain of metal continues to fall around you as you laugh into the kiss, your hands blindly tracing the snaking designs inked on Heat's neck before tangling in his locks. He hums, low and pleased, then his hands roam over your shoulders and down your back. When you finally need to break for air, one of your hands presses against his chest. But as soon as you tilt your head back, he growls, his grip tightening on a strand of your hair to keep you in place.

Wolf-like howls echo around you and you give in. Your fingers grip the laces of his corset as his other hand moves lower, settling on your lower back and closing the small gap between your bodies. Breathless, you try once more to pull away, only for him to growl again, his jaw tilting against yours as he nips at your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open further to deepen the kiss.

"Uh, okay… I'll take Dive," you hear Killer say.

"No!" Dive stomps her feet and protests.

"Yes, ma’am, we’re going...," the first mate adds, and you’re certain he’s watching as Heat becomes wild, gripping your ass as if he can’t get enough of you. "In fact… we’re all going. Guys! The party continues in the aft castle!"

"YEEEES!" the crew roars, leaving you helpless and giddy in the wolf's grasp.

................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[chibinasuu]

Kid x Reader ― surprise; present

part of the cozy holidays event

🎁 ― anonymous tags: sfw (just a tiiinyy bit suggestive at the end), fluff, GN!reader, no use of y/n, established relationship, cw language (it's the kid pirates)

“Oi, Kid!” You shook the sleeping form of your Captain, “Wake the fuck up!”

He groaned in protest, refusing to open his eyes.

“Oh, come on!” You whined, shaking him more violently, “You promised you’d teach me how to ice skate today!”

“Alright, alright!” He finally conceded, throwing aside his blanket and reluctantly getting up, “Just shut up and let me get ready in peace.”

You grinned, reminding him to meet you on the deck in ten minutes, before rushing to the kitchen.

It was good that your Captain always skipped breakfast, because the kitchen and dining room of the Victoria Punk was currently in a state of chaos. 

Emma was mixing a huge bowl of red cake batter under Killer’s supervision, whilst the Commander himself was seasoning some ground meat for the filling of Kid’s favorite cabbage rolls. 

Dive was perched on Wire’s shoulders, hanging streamers from the ceiling all around the room. Quincy’s tongue stuck out as she concentrated on carefully painting elaborate letterings on a large white banner – it only said “HA” for now, but she had plenty of time to finish the rest of that sentence. 

The other members of the Kid Pirates were also busy with various tasks – wrapping presents, blowing up balloons, polishing the fancy silverware they got from their last loot, taking out the clean, non-blood-stained tablecloth. 

You nodded in satisfaction at the progress of the party preparation.

“You still here?” Heat scoffed, “Aren’t you supposed to keep Kid away from the ship?”

“Running a bit late – he literally wouldn’t budge when I woke him up.” You sighed, “But he’s up now. We’ll head off in a few minutes.”

“Don’t let him in here!” Papas yelled. 

“Well, duh!” You rolled your eyes, hand on the door handle, “I’m not stupid!”

You yanked the door open only to come face-to-face with the redhead himself.

“Kid!” You exclaimed, immediately shutting the door behind you before he could see anything. 

He stared at you with one eyebrow raised, “What’s with the commotion?”

“Oh, you know,” you shrugged, “The usual breakfast quarrel. Heat preferred hard-boiled eggs, Wire liked them soft-boiled, and now the rest of the crew are taking sides –yelling and throwing stuff at each other.” 

Kid only hummed in response, not at all suspicious of your lie since it was a likely occurrence on this ship. 

“Come on,” He offered his non-mechanical arm to you, “Let’s go then.”

You happily linked your arm with his, and off you both went ashore. Your heartbeat picked up in anticipation – it had been a while since you went on a date with Kid.

The Victoria Punk had been docked for a couple of days on this little winter island when Kid came upon the frozen lake in the middle of its woods. You had been on watch when he returned to the ship, immediately telling you all about his discovery. You had found it very endearing how he looked like a little child with that huge, excited grin as he rushed off to find his skates. 

It was never even cold enough for snow on his home island back in the South Blue, so it went without saying that Kid had never ice-skated until he entered the Grand Line and set foot on his first winter island. It wasn’t long until he found out that he had a natural aptitude for it, a fact he loved bragging about to the rest of the crew.

Yesterday, you watched with envy from the sidelines as Kid, Bubblegum, and UK raced a few laps around the lake. On the way back to the ship, you had begged Kid to teach you how to skate until he finally relented and said yes, which brought you to your date today. It also happened to be the perfect opportunity to get Kid off the ship for a few hours while the crew set up the surprise.

It was a short trek to the lake, and you shook in excitement when you caught sight of the smooth, glassy surface of the ice, shimmering with the blinding reflection of the morning sun. 

Kid dropped his bag on the snow-covered ground, crouching to rummage through it. He took out his own skates, a pair he made for you, and…

“I’m not wearing that fucking bowl on my head.” You looked disgustedly at the ugly metal thing that Kid was holding out to you.

“Yeah well, too bad, sweetheart.” He plopped the helmet on your head and tied the strap under your chin, “You’re wearing it, or I’m not teaching you how to skate.”

Kid then proceeded to help you put on your skates, making sure to double-knot the laces, before putting on his own. He then stood up easily, while your effort to get to your feet resulted in what probably would be a bruised bum.

The bastard had the audacity to laugh before pulling you up, guiding you to carefully step onto the icy lake. You wobbled at the slippery surface, knuckles turning white at how hard you were grasping Kid’s arms. 

“Relax, doll, I got you.” Kid’s unusually soft voice calmed your nerves, and you started to slowly loosen your iron grip. 

“There we go,” he grinned as he started skating backward, propelling you to go forward along with him. 

“Shit, Kid.” You panicked again, staring at the speed of which your blades were carving the ice, “Slow down!” 

“Hey, look at me!” He searched your eyes, “Keep your gaze straight.”

You met his amber eyes, and Kid smiled, “Good. Now, bend your knees a little for me.”

You did as he said, and when he started gliding again, you found it much easier to follow his movements.

The two of you skated across the lake – hands joined, eyes locked – until you finally felt like you got the hang of it. Kid seemed to sense your increased confidence too, because he smirked and asked, “Think you’re ready to try on your own? Or are you too much of a coward?” 

The thought of losing the tether of Kid’s hands daunted you, but like hell were you going to back down from his challenge.

You reluctantly let go of his hand, and Kid skated away from you – just a short distance away, but the gap between the two of you looked massive from where you stood, frozen to your spot. 

You hesitantly pushed the edge of your skate against the ice, just like Kid showed you, taking one tentative stroke, then another, and another.

He stealthily skated backward bit by bit, increasing the distance which you had to skate to reach him. 

“Kid, I’m doing it!” Your smile was so bright, Kid was afraid it would melt the ice and plunge you both into the freezing waters.

With one last broad stroke, you gained speed and flung yourself straight into Kid’s waiting arms. He caught you and lifted you a few inches from the ground, spinning you around in a dizzying twirl. You laughed in glee, holding on tight to him until the spin lost its momentum and he set you down onto the ice again. 

Kid rested his forehead against yours, “Not bad for a beginner.”

You both stood there in silence for a few moments, enjoying the warm rays streaming through the canopy of trees, and the birds singing softly overhead. 

You cleared your throat and called out his name, heat rising to your cheeks, “I, uh, got you something. For your birthday.”

You reached into the front pocket of your jeans and took out a simple metal bracelet with a single ruby embedded in the center. 

The craftsmanship was extremely shoddy – the edges uneven, the stone crooked. Kid immediately knew that you made the accessory with your own hands. 

You slightly pushed up the sleeve of your sweater to show the perfect bracelet Kid made you for your last birthday, crafted from the same material and inlaid all over with the blood-red gems. You rarely ever took it off, not even during showers.

You licked your lips nervously, the heat from your cheeks spreading to your entire face, “I wanted us to match.”

Kid took the bracelet from you and wordlessly slipped it onto his wrist. You waited with bated breath as he admired it glint under the sunlight. 

"I know it looks awful, you don't have to wear–"

“Thanks, love.” He interrupted you. He’d never admit it, and you pretended not to notice, but his voice sounded a bit choked up when he continued, “Best damn present I’ve ever got my whole life.”

His metal hand came to rest on your hip, while his other cupped your cheek. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a rare, tender kiss. 

You circled your arms around his neck, pulling him flush with you. The familiar press of your body made him groan, and his lips melded with yours more insistently, gaining a hunger that you were more used to feeling in Kid’s kisses.

You reached up to bury your hand in his crimson hair and pulled at the threads, tugging him closer. 

That was the moment your feet, still fairly unused to the skates, slipped under you. Your heart dropped and Kid’s eyes widened as you toppled backward, bringing him along with you. 

Your hand instinctively reached out in a desperate attempt to stop the fall and you felt something crack when it slammed onto the hard ice. Kid, thankfully, succeeded in planting both of his palms down, narrowly missing crushing you flat to the ground.

“Fuck, are you alright?!” Kid yelled as he helped you sit upright.

You winced at the sharp sting on your wrist, but nodded at him anyway, “I’m okay.”

You knocked on your helmet with your uninjured hand, laughing as the metallic bonk echoed throughout the area, “Good thing you had me put on this hideous thing, huh?”

Kid didn’t respond as he inspected your wrist with furrowed brows, “I think it’s sprained? Or broken? We need to get you back to the ship.”

The ship. Where the preparation for Kid’s surprise party was still in full swing. 

“Uh, you know what? I’m good. Can we just stay here for a little longer? I haven’t even finished a full lap around the lake yet–“

“Just let me take care of you for once, won’t you?”

You melted, unable to resist that look in his eyes, so earnest and caring despite his raised voice.

“Fine.” You finally answered with a sigh. 

It was fine. You just had to keep him out of the kitchen. Easy!

Not. 

The kitchen was exactly the very first place Kid marched to when you two arrived back at the ship.

“Whoa, why are we heading to the kitchen? The medical supplies are in the sick bay.”

“Killer keeps a first-aid kit in the kitchen, you know that.” He squinted his eyes, starting to get suspicious, “And it’s closer. The sick bay’s all the way across and down the deck.”

You stood in front of the door, blocking it. Your ears slightly picked up the rowdy voices inside that were definitely not expecting you and the Captain to return this early.

In a last-ditch attempt, you tried to put on a seductive look, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Wait, Kid.” You trailed your hand up his chest suggestively, “Why don’t we go back to your room and I’ll give you a proper birthday present, hmm?” 

“You’re being weird.” He scowled, “Step aside.”

When you didn’t make a move, Kid effortlessly picked you up by the waist and set you to the side, his hand reaching for the door handle.

“No!” You yelped as he slammed the door to the kitchen open.

Silence greeted you as the whole crew froze, pausing whatever they were doing and staring in shock at their Captain.

The cake was only half-decorated, with most of the frosting seemingly ending up on Emma’s face instead. The banner, still spread on the floor, now read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY K”, with a smudge on the “K” where Quincy’s brush slipped at Kid’s loud entrance. 

You cringed and glanced at Kid, whose eyes were wide as saucers, “Uh… Happy birthday, I guess?”

A cacophony of yelled-out happy birthdays started all at once, thirty voices chaotically overlapping with each other.

“Wow, you guys suck at surprises.”

A moment later, Kid doubled over in laughter and the crew let out the breaths they didn't know they'd been holding.

Kid ended up lending an extra hand to finish the rest of the preparations for his own party while Heat treated your sprained wrist.

Despite the rocky start, the festivities turned out to be a success, with everyone enjoying themselves immensely, especially the birthday boy himself. 

Kid absolutely refused a birthday song, though, so Hip and Reck busted out their electric guitars and played some of his favorite tunes instead.

The singing, dancing, and drinking went on all day and well into the night. And when some of the crew had started passing out drunk on the floor, Kid came over and whispered in your ear, “Now, about that proper birthday present…”

You dragged him out of there and into the Captain’s quarters without another word.

a/n: aksjldkj i didn't finish this in time to publish at the normal time i usually post, but it's still 10th Jan so happy birthday Kid!!!

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊ main event page || event masterlist ₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

↳ main masterlist

taglist: @jintaka-hane

[superblysubpar]

You’ve always liked taking pictures.

Liked the concept of quite literally capturing a moment in time.

You’ve always liked the way people look when they think no one sees them.

Liked the concept of an image telling you a story that maybe the person or people in it can’t say with words.

You’ve always liked that despite time always ticking past, the image stays frozen, seemingly forever.

Liked how the snapshot can’t be altered like the memory in your brain can be.

How your youth could be preserved. Every inch of child-like wonder could be saved in pursed lips about to blow on a dandelion and make a wish. Innocence never lost because it’s there, in your cherry smile and his grape tongue. Teenage defiance literally still digging her heels in - to the earth beneath them as he tried to pull you towards a pool fully clothed just to get you to laugh instead of cry.

In the pictures, these things remain intact, somehow. These moments, these feelings, this time of our lives that we don’t know we’re going to miss until it’s too late.

And it’s always too late - we never learn, we never listen.

They try, these older and wiser people around us, to get us to.

Slow down. Enjoy it. When you’re older…

You are going to miss this.

But we seem destined to learn it the hard way, no matter what’s done to prepare us for it. A lesson brutally and swiftly delivered as we take an unaware turn down a street that’s a one way with a dead end.

We aren’t a kid anymore, and it’s time to grow up.

But in those pictures?

We don’t have to.

There, fear and doubt and grief and so much more that seems to fall heavier on your shoulders with each step further from adolescence, don’t exist yet.

In the pictures, you don’t have to wonder if he smiled at you like that because the proof is right there. The chlorine and lemonade wafts up from the splash of turquoise water stark against bright red trunks. And sometimes, if you focus hard enough, it’s like his hand is in yours as you look at the indigo and tangerine and blush swirling together in a beautiful sunrise, can still feel the roof shingles digging into your back and staining your favorite shirt, but you don’t care, ‘cause you’re with him.

Your fingers glide over the polaroid square, next to an opened envelope with it’s document still sitting inside - taped to the page. A dried lilac between both.

But not everything can be so well preserved, not everything can last. It’s easy for fear and doubt to wrap around you, to take deep roots. Soon they’ll take over until there’s nothing left, and then they’ll constrict the life out of what they’ve taken, forcing you to doubt - to wonder over and over again if you remember it differently than him. If he’ll forget you.

If he already has.

You will it to never be so as you close your sketchbook once more and carefully return it to the inside of your backpack.

You’re told you lose yourself when you look at pictures, or when you’re in the process of taking them yourself. Like you’ve stepped into another world, a quieter, softer one, that acts like time isn’t real. No matter how many times it happens it’s always a rude wake up call when that isn’t the truth when you return.

The conversation of the woman behind the metal counter is still going on. Her nails click against the sleek silver as the fingers of her other hand twirl the phone cord around three times, release, then start over. Her strawberry bubblegum snaps between her lips as smoke from the more ash than glow end of her cigarette dissipates in front of her. She doesn’t seem to care, more focused on telling Beth that Ava told Margaret swear on her mother’s life that Grant was having an affair.

Your camera clicks loudly as you wonder if Beth already knew.

A woman’s needles click together across from your seat, a harmony formed with the loud clock above the pair of you, as a pale yellow hat forms slowly against her thighs.

“To or from?” She squints her eyes at you, like she’s just caught you grabbing a cookie before dinner.

“I’m sorry?”

Click, tick, click, tock.

“Are you…” she frowns at the hat and sighs, then looks up at you with the shake of her head, “Swear to god, my brother’s baby better be cute, and they told me hats were easy…”

Your pointer finger twitches against the shutter, the familiar soothe and ache in the same breath settles over your muscles and stomach as you fight the urge to capture a moment you’re sure you’re going to want to look back on before it’s even happened.

The woman shakes the needles like they’re just not getting it as her frown turns to a deeper scowl. But when she looks up at you, she’s nothing but kind. Pink smile stained with red lipstick, laugh crinkling skin next to blue eyes. The needles drop to her lap as she waves green polished fingers in the air in your direction.

“You’ve got that look about you. You’re a runner. I was just curious if you were running to or from.”

The observation catches you off guard, goosebumps shooting to the surface of the skin on your neck much like when you feel you’re being followed or watched.

“Oh…um-”

A loud bell rings, then the woman behind the counter’s voice calls out over a speaker, far less crisp than her phone conversation and much more static filled.

“Chicago to Indianapolis with connections to Bloomington, Carmel, Hawkins, Lafayette, and Terre Haute departs in five minutes. Chicago to Indianapolis with connections to Bloomington, Carmel, Hawkins, Lafayette, and Terre Haute departs in five minutes.”

Your knees crack when your spine stretches, uncurling from the seat you’ve been in since this morning. Your hands fiddle with the camera around your neck and the backpack straps digging into your shoulders. When you turn towards the woman again, her needles are back to clicking as the buzz of the intercom fades.

“I’m honestly not sure anymore,” you admit to her in a whisper, looking over your shoulder at the double glass doors you’re about to walk through swinging open, bringing in new travelers and fumes of exhaust with each swoosh.

“He good? This guy you’re running to?”

You’re stunned into a silence you’ve never found yourself in. Is it similar to how it feels to have an explosion go off too close and unexpectedly? The kind of silence that presents itself because the reality and severity of the situation are too loud to bear, so your body has to protect itself, only hearing what it can handle. It’s impact can’t be denied though - it’s loud, it demands to be heard and fast, only giving you seconds to wrap your head around what just happened. It buzzes in your ears before it rings, it hangs in the air, tangible and thick like smoke left over after everything was just wiped away in a second.

“The best,” truest words you’ve ever said stick in your throat, like they’re dragging your guts and heart right out with them and you’re not sure why you just offered them up like that.

She hums, her gaze flits up to meet yours before it returns to her gift. “The girl? Doing the running?”

You don’t know what makes you say it, what makes you tell this absolute stranger the truth you’ve never wanted to admit.

“A failure. Lonely. Scared. Her life a big red stamp that just reads: Error.”

Her shoulders shrug as if to say she’s heard worse. Her lips twitch in a smile. “You don’t need to listen to it, but some advice from someone who’s a little older, emphasis on a little,” she smiles when she looks up to wink at you, before she says:

“Whatever you’re running from, when you get to your to - make sure not to let go of his hand this time, okay?”

A man coughs as he passes, a heel clicks opposite a knitting needle, both patiently pausing for a tick of the clock before resuming. A newspaper page turns, strawberry gum snaps against teeth as a cigarette’s light completely dims and you look down to see your camera has no more film left.

The woman doesn’t look at you as she smiles wider, freckles scrunching over a nose.

“Guess you’ll just have to remember it all, huh?” She nods her head towards the door, “Think your ride’s leaving, hon.”

Brakes hiss, a door creaks closed just beyond the double doors still swooshing and your heart thuds in your ears as you run towards it. Clammy hands smack the cool glass as a driver rolls his eyes at you, but opens it once more.

“Ya know, last bus of the night and that station isn’t no fun over night. One more second and you’d have been shit outta luck getting to…” He holds his hand out for your ticket. You’re breathless as you pass it over. He clips off the end and whistles, low, then chuckles like it really isn’t that funny. “Well guess you’re still shit outta luck if you’re going to Hawkins, Indiana.”

He closes the door behind you, message clear:

No more running.

series masterlist | part one ->

[pricelessemotion]

love is kinda crazy (with a spooky little boy like you) | E.M.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: [2.4k] eddie takes you on that halloween date. it doesn’t go quite like you expected.

warnings: pure fluff, a little awkward date shenanigans, r is described as having frizzy hair and wearing prescription glasses, r also has an (unnamed) sister

a/n: ah! i’ve been dying to write and post a part two for this fic since halloween and i thought there was no better time to post it than now! happy valentine’s day 🖤

masterlist | part one

“There, perfect!” Your sister punctuates the end of her makeover with the snap of her powder compact and the flourish of a makeup brush. 

You turn slowly, the pink cushioned stool a little wobbly under your unsteady frame. Your reflection looks comical, all blurred edges and wavy lines. Without your glasses, the bedroom vanity has turned into a funhouse mirror. 

“What does it matter if I’m going on a date with him if I can barely see him?”

You don’t need glasses to know that she’s rolling her eyes. Even though you can’t quite see her, you can hear her exasperation in the way she’s loudly chewing her gum. “You’re going to the movies, you’re barely gonna be able to see him anyway. Besides, you’ll be able to see him when he’s close enough to kiss and that’s the whole point.”

You blink each eye one at a time, trying to gauge which one is better. Your left eye is slightly clearer, though the difference is negligible. “I think you’re severely overestimating my eyesight.” 

“I think you’re severely underestimating my dating advice.” She blows a bubble, the view of her face becoming a bright pink smudge before it pops and she continues smacking. “Just trust me, it’ll all be fine.”

You do trust her. Even though she has spent the last two hours plucking and primping and preening, you want to take her advice. She’s not doing this to be condescending or controlling. She’s genuinely excited that you have a date, even more so that it’s with a living breathing human boy and not another library book. 

You don’t have much experience. With dating, with seeing someone, with kissing someone. What it means to be dating someone versus what it means to be seeing someone. What you’re supposed to do when you kiss someone. I mean, are your lips supposed to be on top of each other or are they supposed to interlock like the teeth of a zipper? Yeesh, you didn’t even wanna think about how teeth and tongues factor into the equation. 

These types of questions would usually be the kind that you would ask an older sister. You’ve just never had the bravery to say them out loud. Sure, you’ve watched romance movies and rewound and observed so much that you were afraid the tape in the VHS was going to break. And you’ve read enough romance that Ms. Marissa gives you side-eye when you pass the library’s reception desk. But there’s a difference between fiction and real life. A bridge you’ve yet to cross. You’re sure that you’re going to need all the help you can get.  

So, you heed her advice. You let her spray you with enough Aquanet to try to keep the flyaways at bay. You let her paint your lips with a shimmery pink lip gloss that isn’t too sticky and tastes like vanilla. You don’t, however, let her see you sneak the thick frames into your bag for emergencies. If it were up to her, the frames would be set out with Thursday’s garbage and you’d be wearing contacts like everyone else in your age group. 

She drops you off at The Hawk with another smack of her bubblegum and a reassuring pat on the shoulder. She barely waits for you to close the door of the station wagon before she’s speeding away, her Halloween plans including a keg, a pushup bra, and a slightly inebriated Steve Harrington. 

Eddie’s easy to spot. His silhouette sticks out against the brick building, white shirt, black leather, and blue denim against a red background. He lights up when he sees you and it’s the first time you’ve understood the meaning of the phrase. Since you can’t quite see his face clearly, you’re paying extra attention to his body. The way he pushes off the wall to stand tall. The way his shoulders visibly relax. You bet that they could see his smile all way in Indianapolis. 

“I know you’re usually supposed to give flowers on dates, but this is the best I could do.” 

He presents an origami paper flower in the shape of a rose. It’s made from binder paper, evident by the familiar feel of it in your hands. The folds are a bit unsure. There’s evidence of it being undone and folded again with a cleaner precision, you can feel the wear and tear on the paper with your fingertips. You’re dumbfounded. 

“Thank you,” You whisper, twirling the stem between your thumb and forefinger, watching the rosebud spin. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.” 

“Never?” He gapes at you in apparent disbelief before he schools his expression. “Well then, I’m glad to be the first.” He offers his arm to you like a real gentleman and you take it. 

The leather in the crook of his elbow is cold to the touch, but being in such close proximity you can feel the body heat radiating off of him. 

“It’s a continuous marathon, so they’re showing movies all night. We can start with any one that you want.” He gestures up to the marquee above the concession stand. When you look up to the sign, the words might as well be written in Cyrillic the way the letters all blur together. 

After a trip to the concessions stand, the two of you eventually settle on The Exorcist, which you had decided to cling to after Eddie’s nervous yet adorable rambling about which movie would be better to start with. 

Horror movies are even scarier when you can’t tell what’s going on. It didn’t occur to you how much you relied on sight to be able to mentally prepare for jump scares. Eddie must think you’re a total wimp the way you practically leap out of your seat at every flash on the silver screen that accompanies a discordant string of violins. 

You jump when you feel a hand brush your bicep, your arms flinging out. It’s much too late when you realize that intimate touch was Eddie trying to figure out if you were alright. The large Coke that Eddie had gotten–two straws because he said he didn’t wanna be presumptuous–the casualty of your fright. The flimsy lid pops off like it has nothing better to do and the dark brown liquid splashes over the arm of the seat right into Eddie’s lap. 

Eddie recoils, half-jumping and half-hovering in his seat because he just got a handful of ice-cold soda in his crotch. The people behind you are jeering, grumbling about the disturbance and Eddie half-whispers fucking shit under his breath, in what you’re sure must be a mixture of disdain and disgust.  

You pull napkins out of your purse and thrust them in Eddie’s direction before rushing out of the theater, chest heaving and eyes stinging. 

It’s a wonder you don’t trip and fall on your way out. You’ve walked these dimly lit halls hundreds of times, so luckily instinct and muscle memory win out and you make it out of the theater mostly unscathed, just with a few bruises on each shoulder. Nothing compared to the mortification of what had happened inside. 

Because it’s October in Indiana and you can’t seem to catch a break, it’s raining. Only every so slightly, but enough that you’d be soaked to the bone if you walked home thanks to your sister’s insistence that you dress for fashion and not function. You huddle close to the payphone, pondering if you have enough change to call around and get your sister to pick you back up because no way are you waking up your parents for this. 

The doors to the theater creak open behind you and suddenly you’re not alone anymore. The biting cold chills you to the bone but it’s Eddie’s presence behind you that sets you on fire. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

Maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last hour and a half in the dark with your nerves on edge, but the tenderness in Eddie’s voice makes your throat constrict. 

“I’m sorry,” You blubber. “I’m so embarrassed. I just wanted everything to be perfect and I ruined it.” 

“Hey. Hey.” Eddie repeats himself more forcefully when you don’t meet his gaze the first time, “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s just a little soda. I’ll live.” 

His fingers rub the back of your hands in a soothing motion. Back and forth, thumbs caressing the valleys between your knuckles. He’s close enough that his features are almost in focus. You still have to squint. 

“You keep doing that.” He points his fingers toward your furrowed brow before mimicking the action on his own face. The finger is not accusatory, it just seems like Eddie likes to talk with his hands. 

You sigh, a resigned and weary sound. “My sister convinced me that I shouldn’t wear my glasses.” 

Eddie makes a face that you can’t quite discern in the dark before letting out a soft hmph! “Your sister kinda sounds a little mean.” 

“She means well.” You defend, weakly. You love your sister to death but there are times that your differences become much too apparent and that leaves you with nothing to do but suffer the consequences. This is one of those times. 

“Did you bring them with you?” 

“Yeah,” You reach into your bag, finding the frames folded into one of the inner pockets. 

Eddie takes them and puts them on you. “You keep doing that.” You murmur, a repeat of his earlier accusation. Now, though, you both know it’s in reference to him adjusting your glasses not just once but twice. 

“It gives me an excuse to be close to you.” 

You can see him with unrelenting clarity now. The little crinkles next to his eyes as he smiles warmly down at you. The way the slight breeze has carried the miserable drizzle under the theater awning. The way that drizzle clings to his curly hair like dewdrops on morning grass. You almost robbed yourself of all of this, and for what? Eddie knows what you look like. 

“Y’know what I thought when I saw you yesterday?” Yesterday, when you had been wearing a witch hat on top of your frizzy hair and the same Coke bottle glasses that sit on the slope of your nose now. “I thought that you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. I thought I made a fool outta myself and that you wouldn’t give me the time of day, not in a million years.” 

“The whole scaredy cat schtick was quite endearing I must say.” 

He nods seriously, just a slight hint of a smirk on his face. “I try my best.” 

You look down at the seat of his pants. Sure enough, there’s a dark stain splashed right across his crotch.“Oh god. I'm so sorry. Again” 

“What did I tell you about apologizing?”

“You didn’t say anything about apologizing.” 

“Well then, this is me saying something. Stop apologizing. You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“It looks like you pissed yourself,” You wail mournfully. 

“Well, that definitely makes me feel better.” Eddie jests before he tugs you into his chest and plants his chin on top of your head. 

You nuzzle your face into his sternum, appreciating the soft hiss he lets out when your cold nose touches his warm skin. You inwardly groan because, quite frankly, there’s nothing more embarrassing than running out of a nearly full movie theater the way that you did. The only thing more embarrassing than that, you think, is going back inside after having embarrassed yourself. You tell Eddie as much, with the reassurance that you don’t want the date to end and if he really wants to, you can go back inside and finish the movie. He’s already tugging you toward his van that’s parked on the other side of the street, saying the six words that make your night:

“I own The Exorcist on VHS.”

You spend the entire time back in the trailer park cuddled up having quiet conversation about gory practical effects over a bowl of microwaved popcorn. The closest he gets to kissing you is when you duck into his chest to hide and his lips brush your temple. He could’ve lived off of that single brush for the rest of his life if he had to. 

When Eddie pulls up to your house later that night, he really does mean to give you an innocent kiss goodnight. The neighborhood is quiet, seeing as it’s probably been an hour since the children of Hawkins had fallen into their sugar-induced comas. He turns the engine off and shifts towards you, his smile both giddy and shy while he tells you that he had a really good time tonight. You mirror his expression and tell him the same. You both lean forward, chests rising and falling in tandem, noses brushing. 

When you finally make it past the front door, your lips are swollen and your glasses are fogged up. You kick off your shoes and pad up the carpeted steps two at a time, racing to your bedroom window. When you turn on your lamp and look out to the tree-lined street, Eddie waves at you, his rings glinting in the streetlight. You wave back, watching the van disappear into the distance. 

“Hey,” Your sister is leaning against the doorframe, smiling like the cat who got the cream.

“How’d it go?” You’re already slightly aware of the answer since she’s standing in front of you with a freshly washed face and hand-me-down pajamas instead of in an empty house in Loch Nora. 

She shrugs noncommittally, “It was a bust.” 

You hum in solemn solidarity, trying to tug the grin on your face into a much more situationally appropriate neutral expression. You feel for her and you don’t want to rub it in her face that you had such a good time, despite her advice. Unfortunately, you do not seem to have as much control over your facial muscles as you think you do. Your sister sees right through you, grabbing the purple throw pillow at the foot of the bed and launching it at your face telling you to shut up. You catch it before it has the chance to hit you, huffing with righteous indignation at her before the two of you collapse onto the bed in muffled laughter. 

“So, how’d it go?” She whispers in your direction, mindful of your sleeping parents down the hall. 

You trace your cupid’s bow, feeling the chapped and swollen skin for the hundredth time that night. You turn your head toward hers, readjusting your glasses when they slide down your nose. 

“It was perfect.” 

likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished 🖤

[sunrise-imagines]

I know this is a sad one, but could you write about the reader and Finn in their twenties, and they've been in a relationship for a long time. And as Jake is getting older, He knows that he's not gonna be there for finn. jake also knows that his death would be pretty hard on finn, so he pulls the reader aside on one of their adventures and asked her to always watch over fin when he is gone.

Asyrshhfv this is so sad but I love it! I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone with formatting so this will be written like a more traditional imagine instead of my usual bulleted style. Hope you like it!

TW: Mention of death, angst and comfort

Finn Mertens x Reader Jake’s Request

The three of you were walking through a dense forest. Princess Bubblegum had tasked you with hunting down a large beast that had been terrorizing villages around the area, and with Jake sense of smell you were able to follow it’s path through the woods.

Though in the past Jake would become big and simply carry you guys above the brush, using his powers started to take more of a toll on his body as he got older, so now he started limiting large amounts of stretching to combat only.

Finn sighs, “We’ve been walking for a while now. I think we should set up camp for the night and rest up.”

Jake tries to protest, “Nah man I’m good! We gotta follow the trail while it’s still ho-“ He’s cut off by a fit of coughs, concerning you and Finn, who goes over to put a hand on his brother’s back.

Once the coughing subsides, Jakes sighs and admits, “Yeah, you’re right. I could use a break.” He smiles at Finn, trying to reassure him, although Finn is clearly still worried.

You and Finn set up a campfire and a couple logs to sit on while Jake takes a minute to breathe.

“Hey Finn, why don’t you go get some more fire wood while Y/N and I start on dinner?” Jake suggests out of the blue. Finn gives him another worried look, about to protest, but Jake motions for him to go and he relents, leaving the two of you alone by the fire.

Rummaging through Finn’s pack, he hands you a small knife and some veggies in a bag, “Cut these up for me, will ya?” You nod and get to work, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

Jake awkwardly clears his throat, trying to lighten the mood a little, “So uh, how’s living together been for ya?” He asks while he pours some canned soup into the pot.

You look up from your task of peeling potatoes, “O-Oh, it’s been good! To be honest I was a little nervous at first, but now that we’ve decorated and stuff the house really feels like our own, you know?”

Jake laughs, “Yeah I get it. I felt the same way movin’ in with Lady. I really missed the treehouse for a while but after that it was like I couldn’t imagine livin’ anywhere else.” He reaches into Finn’s bag and adds some spices he brought to the mix, stirring it around with a wooden spoon.

“I’m also glad I don’t have to hear you guys gettin’ it on anymore.” You feel the wind get knocked out of you at his words, gasping for air as Jake laughs at your expense. Warmth spreads across your cheeks as you avoid his gaze.

“You’re really good for him, you know? Like, I’ve seen him date tons of different people, but you’re the only one that he’s ever been like, REALLY happy with. Usually Finn keeps a little distance from people, even from me sometimes, but it seems like he trusts you.” Jakes muses as he brings out a few bowls, pouring some soup in before handing one to you. You thank him and blow on the hot liquid, bringing a spoonful to your lips and savoring the hearty flavor.

As you look up you notice the solemn expression on Jake’s face, stirring his bowl of soup absentmindedly. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

He sighs before he starts to explain, “So…remember when I went to see Doctor Princess a few weeks ago? And I said I was just going cause my stomach hurt?”

You nod, putting down your bowl to listen more intently.

Jake scratches the back of his head as he continues, “Well, it turns out it was a little more serious than that. Like a lot more serious than that. I’m still doing okay for now, but from what she told me, I don’t think I’m gonna get better this time.”

Your eyes widen as you take in what Jake just said to you. Since you were a kid, he had always been a constant in your life, looking out for you and Finn no matter what. You couldn’t imagine life without him, but now you were faced with the very real situation that he wouldn’t be around anymore. “Jake, I…oh my Glob.” You struggle for words as you try to rationalize your scrambled thoughts.

Jake stretches his hand and puts it on your shoulder, “Listen, I know it’s a lot, and I don’t mean to make you sad, but…I wanted to ask you a favor.”

You nod and take his paw, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, “Anything.”

Jake continues, “When I’m gone…promise to look after Finn for me, okay? I love him, but…he can be real stubborn n’ stupid. Whatever happens, make sure he doesn’t end up beating himself up.” His voice wavers a bit towards the end, and it’s clear just how much he cares for his brother.

You smile at him sadly, simply replying with, “Of course.”

Jake smiles back, “Thanks kiddo. There isn’t anyone I’d rather ask.” He balls up his fist, and you bump it with your own. In a sudden motion, you jump up from your seat, running over and hugging him tightly.

Jake flinches in surprise, but after a second closes his eyes and hugs you back. In this moment, he feels peace in knowing that you and Finn have each other, and that even when he’s gone, you both will be okay.

-

AN: WE’RE SO BACK Y’ALL. I started this fic a while ago and finally got the inspiration to finish it. I hope you enjoy!

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Hello! I love your writing style!! It's just so on spot, and I wanted to request some headcanons for the mercs with a gn! reader who doesn't really speak but they can communicate through sign language or paper for whatever reason, the thing is, the Merc and the reader find themselves in a really critical situation or just an incredibly intimate and comforting moment, blurting out for the first time something serious or stupid like "y'know when I first met you I thought you're really stupid...(affectionate)" IDK OF THIS MAKES SENSE OR IT'S WEIRD SORRY LMAOOA

(if you don't wanna do all of them you could do your faves & I hope there's a chance to add miss Pauling if possible😔) but anyway, too much to read,, sorry again!! Take care♡♡

Y/N with communication anxiety admits their feelings to the Mercs

Scout:

- He’s very chill and nonchalant about it. Although have fun hearing him talk his mouth off all the time and rant about random things. He takes a liking to you pretty quickly when you join his team and leans on the wall next to you tossing his ball from hand to hand and blowing bubbles with his bubblegum. “Heeey there slugger. What‘s your name? You look like a total nightmare today.” He says. When you don’t answer him and nervously gesture to your throat that you’d prefer staying quiet he pauses for a moment. “Not a talker, eh?”

- Literally will not shut the fuck up. Will talk to you for hours on end. Venting or just saying plain stupid shit to impress you. You find his personality rather charming and in exchange he seems to appreciate your content silence and preference to listen to him. Something that the other Mercs don’t really do.

- “Y’know, Y/N. I know this sounds fuckin’ weird but like— Thank you I guess? For listening to my nonstop ramblin. I mean.. Not many people stop to consider what I have to say.” He says this to you while you sit in Tuefort’s gazebo with him on a cold desert morning. “They just think i’m annoying I guess..”

- “Annoying yet charming and handsome nonetheless, Scout.” You finally work up the courage to mutter to him. Your voice is rasp and you smile.

- Scout pauses, then looks at you in complete disbelief. Did Y/N just speak? Atop of that it seemed to have been a flirtatious compliment. He takes a moment to process the situation and then sort of chortles. He runs his hand through his own hair and acts chill about it but on the inside he’s absolutely mad with feelings. “Wow.. That’s.. Yeah, OK.” he says, failing to find words. Face flushed with heat.

——————————————————————

Soldier:

- He was the first person to approach you in the base. Like ever. When he found out there was a new mercenary he needed to lay the ground rules to them as soon as possible. Instead of giving him a “Yes sir!” like he had hoped, you stared at him blankly. (I’d probably be rethinking this job offer.) Wondering why you hadn’t spoken up to him, he got close to your face and looked up and down you. “I’D LIKE TO HEAR A YES SIR PRIVATE!” Still nothing. You were too busy admiring his muscles. You’ve just met this man but you’d let him throw you off a bridge in an instant.

- When he still doesn’t get a response, he backs up and angrily fixes his helmet “Insubordination I see.. Heh. Okay.” He mutters and prepares to plan a punishment later. You are oddly charmed by his stupid greeting and you head to the nearest chalkboard and explain in writing why you can’t respond back. He lifts his helmet up to read it and then looks back at you. (The other Mercs are kind of stunned that Soldier even knows how to read in the first place.)

- “Ah, I see.. Strange tactical decision but not unheard of.” He responds, then straightens his posture apologetically. You two become close friends from then on. Medic has to explain to him later that you just have “mild” communication issues. For the first few months of your guys’ friendship the dumbass thought you were doing this to gain an upper hand.

- After a match one day you catch him smoking a cigar on a huge pile of bodies in the pouring rain. You step up the horrific mess of blood and guts to meet him. He doesn’t look too happy. Although Soldier never really opens up about anything to anyone. He’s way too deep in his little military fantasy. You sit next to him and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Whatever the hell he was upset about you knew it wasn’t good. After a bout of silence you whisper “You’re a wonderful strategist, Soldier.”

- You can’t see his expression underneath his helmet but you can certainly hear his heartbeat quicken because of how close you are. His mouth nearly twitches up into a grin. He doesn’t respond to your compliment but he’s relieved to hear one nonetheless after all this time.

————————————————————————-

Demoman:

- You find him making bombs in his quarters when you meet him for the first time. He doesn’t look too friendly but as you decide to walk by he immediately calls out to you. “Ayeee! New blood. Get ova’ here a second. Wee lil monster.” He beckons his hand aggressively.

- You walk over to him and he puts an arm around your shoulder. Patting you reassuringly. “Aye.. So It’s not gonna be easy livin’ here just so you know. We’re all a wee bit mad. Don’t take the others’ too seriously when dey bother ye.” He takes the responsibility upon himself to let you know as an older Merc it’ll be okay. He slaps you friendlily on the back after his conversation and sends you off. He doesn’t really question the fact you aren’t speaking.

- You immediately take a liking to him though. Mainly due to his explosive personality on the battlefield (pun intended.) He gets horribly drunk before doing any Mercenary work and acts goofy the entire time. His charisma pulls you in like a magnet. You want to speak to him but it’s so hard…

- After months of simping for this guy from afar, you slip a note under his doorframe professing your feelings to him. You hear him pick it up. The next thing you know, he barges into your quarters the next day after a match and grabs you by the shoulders. Asking you in complete disbelief if you actually meant everything you said.

- “Yes, I just think you’re really attractive!” you blurt out instinctively. Alarmed by his behavior. He lets you go; having heard your voice for the first time. The shock of the revelation and the sound of your voice, atop of the alcohol seemed to have done it for him. He immediately kissed you on the lips without warning. You’re the first person in years to say this to him.

- “I… Er.. “ He walks away after that. You have no fucking idea what the hell even happened.

——————————————————————-

Engineer:

- You hear the sweet melody of a guitar echoing off the intel room. Despite its clearly southern origins you are drawn to it. As if it was some sort of hypnosis. You’d recognize that melody anywhere. The year was 1967 and you were no stranger to your own childhood. That was clearly “El Paso.” You’ve heard that song on the radio a million times already. But somehow this was different. The soothing voice it came from was singing it as if it were his own lullaby to the multiple sentries around him. The ones of his own creation of course.

- Next thing you know, you’re sitting next to him on the intel desk, sleepy as all shit from the melody and the white noise from the patrolling sentries. You wake up an hour later to embarrassingly finding yourself on this stranger’s lap. You want to profusely apologize to your colleague but nothing comes out.

- He doesn’t even seem phased. For some reason he was stroking your hair as he gazed off into the distance.

- Ever since that day you became close to Engineer. He was completely unbothered by your communication issues and actually kind of appreciates the silent times he has with you. He rarely speaks to you while hanging out either, out of respect for your boundaries. Only the occasional conversation here and there. You are both existing together.

- “I love you, Dell.” You finally say, after a night of drinking in his workshop with him. You are perched up on his lap as always and he’s petting you. At first he misunderstands this as platonic. “Aww..” He cooes. “No, I mean it. I’ve always found you so —“ You bury your face into his chest. Muffling the last part of your sentence “Safe to be around.”

- He’s unbelievably boiling with hormones on the inside. He tips his hardhat forward to hide his flustered face. Holding his own chin. “Dammit..” He mutters in an incredibly positive way. You’ve successfully won this man over.

—————————————————————-

Heavy:

- He’s already met you before the job. Accidentally caught you in a coffee shop in Tuefort being yelled at by an ableist Karen and he took it upon himself to nearly strangle her for you. Heavy doesn’t tolerate behavior like that. You need to insult people with style or nothing at all. Don’t pick on their disabilities. Aim for the most stereotypical high school bully route possible. Come on, you gotta be an asshole skillfully.

- He could tell you were different the moment you joined the team. But that’s fine. He was quite misunderstood too. Heavy wasn’t a dumb himbo. He was a GIANT man with a lust for blood. Although he enjoyed chaos as much as any Merc, Heavy also valued silence. Something that you provided him with your presence. You catch him deliberately body shielding you on the battlefield because he knows this communication issue didn’t come out of nowhere. You’re distressed. This was his subtle attempt to let you know he cared.

- He catches you unable to sleep one night. He opens your door and notes the fact your light was still visible through the cracks. You’re sitting on the bed in an uncomfortable fetal position.

- “Little thing will not sleep?” He asks you. Although he has his typical hardened expression the question suggested he cared. “Hm. Stay here. Heavy will grab bedtime story.”

- He reads you an old Russian classic. Although depending on who you are you might not understand it. Regardless the soft sounds are alluring sleep. It’s clear he’s read people stories many times before because his whispers hit all the right places.

- You mumble to him a thank you. Which makes him pause mid sentence. He doesn’t know how the ever living fuck to process what he’s feeling right now. It’s a mixture of affection and the pang of what is typically the start of romantic attraction. Ew gross he’s feeling soft and fuzzy emotions.

- You pull him under the covers with you eagerly. He grumpily obeys but he doesn’t know why. He nearly destroys your bed with his weight and has to put you on his chest to cuddle. You can hear the sound of the ubercharged baboon heart inside him. Still pumping away and working to keep him going. You slip into slumber easily.

————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Talking is overrated anyway. Nobody really understands Pyro when they speak under the mask. Trying to say something simple like “There’s a spy behind you.” is often met with a confused expression. When Pyro meets you, it’s when he’s allured by your skills on the battlefield. In their point of view you are a glorious unicorn prancing around a field of pollen. (More like debris from the enemy soldiers’ rockets but that’s besides the point.)

- There are rare moments where Pyro is completely lucid and self aware of the fact they’re a mercenary for hire though. They compliment you on your abilities after a match and it takes you a while to understand but you nod.

- They won’t. stop. complimenting. you. You are dragged to his tea parties and childish shenanigans and you find over time it’s surprisingly pleasant to escape from the bloodshed once and a while. Cuddling sessions ensue as time goes on.

- You catch their face without their suit while they’re getting changed. That is vulnerability that Pyro wasn’t ready for yet. They break down sobbing and self depreciating and you feel heartbroken. Who the hell taught them to hate themselves so fucking much? You’re having a bit of empathy overload right now as they squeal and choke up. Finding no other alternative but to speak blissful things about their appearance and personality. Hearing you speak for the first time makes them cry more. (In an incredibly positive way luckily.)

———————————————————————

Sniper:

- Oh shit. Another person whose super quiet for some reason?! Except your situation is different. You’d like to socialize but it’s difficult. Sniper doesn’t want to socialize and he hates basically everybody. But he has that “grumpy older brother who teases you” energy. He’s well aware you’re younger than the other Mercs and therefore a tad easier on you.

- He’s scoping out a crack in the window when he feels your presence behind him. His shoulders stiffen and that’s how you know he senses you. “Blimey. You’d make a terrible Spy.” he mutters. Bringing his gun away from the hole to put it down and face you. His hypersensitivity to noise is no doubt from being stabbed a million times.

- You wonder how he’s able to tell it’s even you in the first place. He’s possibly grown accustomed to how each Mercenary sounds when they approach his nest. You can smell the scent of strong cologne mixed in with bond fire lingering off him. Couple that with the fact that he’s so unbelievably hot? You came to bring him some morning coffee but you end up setting it down to spontaneously hug him.

- “Wh— fuck.” He growls. Both caught off guard and swaying a bit. Trying to adjust to extra weight. He hesitantly hugs you back. Wondering if you were sick or something and needed soothing. He doesn’t understand why anybody would want this from him. It takes him a minute to put his arms around you and pat you.

- “What’s wrong mate?” he says, in your ear. This man might be giving you a voice kink if you don’t already have one. Holy shit. You don’t want to be humiliated by your own voice in front of him and your lips quiver. Incapable of finding the words you’re thinking of. “You’re cute.” you finally say. In a last ditch effort when no other words came to mind. To say you desperately wanted this man was an understatement.

- You hear him take a sharp breath in. He stifles a groan from the amount of energy you just shot into his godamn stomach. Not only was it a pleasure to hear your voice for the first time but it felt intimate. He was very sensitive to things like this. You swore you could hear this man purring in your ear like a cat. He was evidentially as touch starved as you were.

—————————————————————

Medic:

- No speaking?! Oh! this man has to study you like right fucking now. What a curiosity. He’s never met somebody who had issues speaking like this before. He hates to admit —and won’t admit for that matter — that he might be doing this out of emotion as well. Believe it or not Medic can be an incredibly emotion driven person. Not just for the pleasures of harming people but the unwanted sympathy that comes with being human. He hates the idea he might care for you. Why does he even feel that way? It’s not like you’re different from any other Merc..

- Except you are. You’re you. That’s the problem. You’re lovable in every way and no amount of rumination will ever explain why.

- His first instinct upon discovering this about you is to ask you questions about how bad it is. Obviously quickly realizing how stupid that is — he hands you his clipboard and a fresh piece of paper to communicate. “Do you speak if at all?” “Do you experience this in the presence of certain stressors?” “Did you have traumatic experiences that led to this?” “Is this perhaps a case of selective mutism?”

- You scramble to write down incredibly passive aggressive and sarcastic answers but they are answers nonetheless. He seems pleased with the results. Under normal circumstances you’d hate being treated like a guinea pig but his excited smile was charming. The fact that somebody wanted to understand your situation so badly was a bit riveting. He was hungry for information about the human existence. “Danke!”

- You catch something you’d never suspect in a mad scientist such as himself. While he’s drawing mathematical equations on his chalkboard one night he periodically looks over his shoulder to frown at you while he thinks you’re not paying attention.

- He’s doing a terrible job at hiding his human nature. There was a bout of emotion in his eyes about your health. As much as the doctor tried to remove this from his work, it kept rearing its ugly head in certain situations. “I love you, Doctor.” You tell him.

- SNAP. His fingers break the chalk in half. Just like his crumbling facade. You could see his eye twitch as he accesses ten thousand possible answers he could give you in his mind. “Aheh, could you give me a moment, bitte?” He tells you. Waltzing into the other room. You could hear muffled screaming coming from his bedroom. He regrets taking this job and wished he died in police custody.

———————————————————————-

Spy:

- YES! FINALLY SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T MAKE HIM WANT TO PULL HIS HAIR OUT AND BACKFLIP OFF A CLIFF

- Spy elegantly invites you to his quarters one night after weeks of avoiding you the first time you come here. He pours you some wine and hands you a glass. (adjusting your hand in the process because you’re holding the glass wrong.)

- “Do you know why I brought you here?” He asks. Pacing around the room and lighting himself a cigarette from his disguise kit. In all honesty you have no idea why but the sight of such a handsome older man doing this for you was distracting. “It is your performance as of late. You are throughly calculated I must say.” You couldn’t agree with this, but you wondered if he had some sort of thing for competent people. (Your assumptions are correct.)

- …. “Not to mention quieter than me when I scope out prey.” He mentions. Waving the cigarette between two fingers. He was a Spy and you had no doubt he was trying to read you like a book but having difficulties. He was especially accustomed to having small talk with the other Mercs to better fake their counterparts when disguised as them. You couldn’t help but feel a little flattered over the fact that not even a Spy could properly look through you.

- He looked at you rather frustratingly once he realizes you’re still not speaking. “Not even the slightest bit of speaking. Do you realize how much harder you make my job?” He complains sarcastically. You can’t help but crack a humored grin at this. He isn’t being ableist in this situation, rather he’s angry he can’t psychoanalyze somebody. You knew it was within’ a Spy’s nature to instinctively do this.

- He responded positively to your grin. Moving away and dragging his cigarette. Trying to hide a bit of his own amusement. “Yes, yes. You find my suffering to be equivalent to the entire circus.” He says. “But in in all honesty your silence is preferred.” Spy moves in and lifts your chin up with his pointer finger.

- “Tu es agréable à côtoyer..” He hisses. His voice sounding like a hungry cat as he draws closer to you. Spy has a very distinct look in his eye. One that basically screams thoughtful and mysterious. You nearly passed out at the unintentionally romantic gesture.

- “Please throw me off a fucking building.” You say.

- “What?”

[bbytamaki]

BUBBLEGUM — eren yeager

content: eren x black coded reader (though anyone can read), established marriage, parent reader (gender neutral but referred to as mama), pet names (daughter is referred to as ladybug, eren calls you baby), not proofread

genre: fluff

note: baby fever is kicking my ass (*´-`)

when eren first sent you the photo you assumed it was a prank, but he knew you were never one to enjoy practical jokes. he learned that one the hard way. a picture of your little girl sitting on her pink princess chair with a pout and big watery eyes popped up on your phone screen. she did not. with your cell phone in a tight grip, you immediately rushed from your desk to the office break room to call him.

“put my baby on the phone right now.”

he didn’t even bother speaking, he knew what he had coming. eren stood behind your daughter with his eyes turned away, occupying himself by playing with his hoodie strings. “what happened, ladybug?”

“daddy got bubblegum in my hair!” your daughter looked at you with only her curl-covered forehead on camera. right in the middle of her fluffy bangs (that eren had done himself) was a fat pink wad of chewing gum.

eren bit his lips and waited for your harsh ‘hand daddy the phone’.

“you better be lying because if you’re serious, i’m beating the brakes off you yeager.” you were whispering but the way your words cut through him was anything but quiet.

he was serious. dead serious. just the tone of your voice made him shiver a bit, he couldn’t even imagine what you’d do when you got home. what had been a bit of harmless fun between him and his daughter had turned into a pink mess in the front of your poor baby’s hair.

“go get the conditioner ladybug, i need to talk to mama for a second.” the two of you waited for your child to leave the room before he turned back to you.

“what were you even doing for that to happen?” the bass in your voice was making his phone overheat. eren explained how he simply couldn’t say no when his baby girl just had to have candy, and the two of them ended up in a very serious and competitive bubble blowing contest.

“eren yeager when i get home, just be ready.”

“baby please, i swear it was an accident-“

he cringed at the sound of your facetime ending. eren found the peanut butter and scissors before making his way to the bathroom. this was gonna be a long night.

[lostdaffodils]

Literally losing my mind over how Adventure Time writes characters and their relationships. Which, like, no shit, but I’m especially stuck on how the way a character is portrayed and viewed by the audience is entirely dependent on their relationship with whoever the focal point of that episode is (typically Finn).

One of my favorite examples of this is Jake versus Martin. We, the audience (for the most part), love Jake and hate Martin. Jake is a cool wise older brother that loves food, Martin is a conniving selfish bastard. What’s crazy is that they’re deeply comparable. Both are reformed criminals that started a family, only to neglect that family and (more often than not) deny their children’s desire for parental affection. In fact, Martin is arguably better than Jake, as he only acts that way towards Finn in the (relative) present due to his repeated head trauma and heavily implied amnesia. In Islands, it’s made clear that Martin is willing to risk everything, including his life, for his son. The only thing that made this change is the injury he sustained fighting the Island Guardian (as was shown in the original promo art for Min and Marty) (There is something so devastating about how protecting Finn made him a worse father oh my goddddd). Jake doesn’t have any excuse, he’s just that way. Not that I am a Jake hater! I love him, but he’s very flawed, as all the characters are.

The reason we rarely consider this is because everything is filtered through Finn. To Finn, Jake is more than everything he needs to be. He’s his best friend, his brother, and his mentor. Whenever he’s in trouble, Jake is there. Martin, on the other hand, made fun of him, manipulated him, and ripped his arm off without second thought. It makes perfect sense that we’d like Jake and loathe Martin.

Another example I like is Princess Bubblegum. She’s an unethical ruler, to say the least. She’s not the worst in the show, but she’s not without (a large amount of) flaws. To Finn, though, she’s (typically) a kind person, so this is how we see her. If Adventure Time were from, say, Lemongrab’s perspective (and I’m soooooo glad it isn’t I hate that stupid lemon), her role in the narrative would be far more comparable to a character like Victor Frankenstein’s.

I actually adore how the writers use point of view in this way because I feel like it’s so rare for narratives to acknowledge it at all? In reality, it’s true that individual relationships with people can vary wildly. Everything is dependent on the context and circumstances under which you know someone, and how they respond to a near-infinite array of factors. Someone could, objectively, be a saintly presence in one person’s life and a major nuisance in another’s. Things aren’t as black and white as good or bad, and the degree to which perceived goodness or badness is dependent on individual relationships (and, honestly, complete chance) is literally mind-blowing. I think in fiction, characters are often written as broadly good or bad. Adventure Time doesn’t really do that, unless the characters are incredibly minor, and it’s one of my favorite things about it.

There’s something oddly comforting in it, I think.

[roachieboyoyo69]

Hair dye date

You mentioned a few odd weeks ago you wanted to dye your hair to match Angel, fast forward to now, she showed up at your place with hair bleach, a blonde toner, bubblegum pink hair dye and a package full of latex gloves.

“You went shopping.” You comment looking down at the shopping bag full of supplies. She smiles at you, her breath a big heavy from running.

“Hehe,” She leaned against your door frame as she caught her breath. “Just give me a second.” She wheezed.

“You okay?” You ask, grabbing the bag from her and setting it on the counter.

“Yea I just…whew, ran the whole way here.” She breathed before standing up and walking inside. “Where should we dye your hair?” She asks, smiling delicately as if she wasn’t just an out of breath mess five seconds ago.

“How are you so perfect?” You ask, unconsciously.

Angel immediately starts blushing, “Is the kitchen alright to do your hair?” She asks and you nod, pulling one of your dining room chairs to the tiled kitchen floor.

“I’m gonna go put on something else.” You tell her before retreating to your bedroom to put on a shirt you didn’t like that much.

When you join Angel in the kitchen again she’s already all set up, bowls of bleach and the pink color are sitting on the counter and she has plastic wrap on the floor and the chair to keep the bleach off of the furniture and tile. When she turned to you she had clear latex gloves on her hands to protect her pretty pink glittery nails. She smiles at you as soon as she sees you, her smile as pretty as it always is.

“In the chair cutie!” She sings, pointing to the seat. You do as she tells you and sit down. She immediately gets to work, evenly applying the bleach to your head and smacking away your hand whenever it goes up to scratch at your scalp. “Stop moving.” She commands, her voice sounding firm in an unserious way.

“But it’s itchy.” You whine, pouting at her.

“That means it’s working, I’m almost done then I’ll put a shower cap on your head and we will be halfway there.” She promises, her fingers lightly massaging your scalp before she continues applying a thick layer of bleach. After she finishes with the bleach she takes off the gloves and adds the shower cap. “Ok the box says to keep it like that for thirty minutes and then rinse it out and wash your hair with shampoo. So I’ll set a timer.” Angel says, wandering off to collect her phone from her things before returning with a timer set.

The thirty minutes could end fast enough as you writhed from how itchy your scalp felt from the bleach. When her timer finally chimed you jumped out of the chair and ran towards the sink to let her wash the bleach out. Her fingers massage your scalp lightly as she works all the bleach out before applying shampoo to your head and doing the same with it.

“Alright, I’m gonna grab a towel and the blow dryer so stay like that over the sink.” She says, and you can hear her walking away before one of your towels is wrapped around your head. She guides you back to the chair and taps the excess moisture from your hair with the towel before using the blow dryer to dry your hair the rest of the way. “You look cute as a blonde.” She comments, her fingers playing with the yellow-blonde hair.

“Ok, now time for the toner.” She comments to herself, grabbing the bowl of toner. “Face forward.” She commands as she puts on a new set of gloves and starts applying the toner. “Ok so this one only stays on for fifteen minutes.” She says, removing the gloves to start the timer. You talk about work with her as you wait for fifteen minutes, more focused on her words now that you're not writhing from the itchy pain of bleach.

Her timer chimes again and she takes her time washing the toner out. She uses the towel again to dry out the moisture before her blow dryer dries you off again. “Time for my favorite part~” She sings, excitement dripping out of every pore. “Time for the pink!” She grins happily, replacing her gloves and grabbing the bowl full of pink.

Angel slathers the tips of your hair pink, the soft color making your new blonde look like strawberry and vanilla ice cream. “Oooo this is already looking so good~” Angel cheered, practically hopping as she finished up with the pink. “Alright so this is a vegan dye so it can stay on as long as it needs to be, and I brought a lot so we can always keep doing it until it shows enough” She explains and you once again nod, smiling at her excited face.

“You must really be excited for us to match.” You smile.

“Well of course! I would’ve been able to match with Ronin if he wasn’t such a hardcore emo.” She replies, her smile even brighter.

“Well I’m glad I’m fulfilling a dream you’ve had for your partner,” you joked, laughing quietly.

“Mhm! I love you for being willing to experiment with me!” Angel bounces on her heels, her smile getting more radiant by the second.

An hour seems to pass in a flash before she helps you wash out the pink, she then shampoos and conditions your hair and brings back the blow dryer. “Oh my GOD!” Angel almost squeals, she pulls you in to kiss you on the cheek before forcing you into a picture with her. “You look so cute! We should’ve done this so much sooner!” She kisses you on the lips this time before posting the selfie into the slaughterhouse losers chat.

Your phone gets flooded with messages from the others about how it looks good and several jokes from Ronin and Misaki.

“I love you.” Angel kisses you again.

“I love you too Maria.” You kiss her back.