#this was a perfect prompt ty

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

"you're gonna get through this" for saving eddie instead of letting him die? i'll be honest i don't watch st so i don't know exactly how this might work but i know he didn't deserve to die

Hope I did him justice 🙏

Request more comfort prompts here!

.....

"Goddamn it Eddie, where are you?!” Racing through the upside down, your heart was beating loudly, breaths labored as you searched for the metalhead who ran off.

That idiot severed the only tie he had back to the real Hawkins when you and Dustin went through, and sprinted away to distract more demobats.

But he already did that with a one-man heavy metal concert! The three of you could’ve easily left right now.

So why was he risking his life yet again?

The answer was probably simple: Because he’s sick of running.

You’ve seen it and heard it before; Eddie’s cowardly nature that constantly made him run away from danger and all things horrific. From Chrissy’s murder to a town who wanted him dead..he tried running from it all.

Now he wanted to save people that looked down on him as nothing but some cultist freakshow.

Yep..that was Eddie, alright.

This sounded like an insane session of D&D: fighting swarms of demonic bats in an alternate dimension while your friends hunted down Vecna, the “main villain”. How badly you wished that’s all it was, or that this was some just crazy dream as a result of your obsession with the fantasy game.

But this wasn’t a dream nor a board game. 

This was real.

Eddie could die here--any of you could. But if push comes to shove, you’d rather die side-by-side than leave him all alone.

You just prayed you wouldn’t be too late to help him.

Eventually you found yourself amid a vicious swam of bats. It was almost blinding, with some noticing you and trying to take bites out of your flesh. But when one chomped down on your arm, it only tasted the metal from the makeshift armor pieces you wrapped around yourself as a precaution.

You could never be too safe.

With your handheld weapon you swatted at the monsters like they were flies, all while shouting for Eddie. You almost couldn’t see anything; they were coming at you from every angle.

“Eddie!! Where are you?!!”

You ceased your killing streak to listen, shielding yourself to the best of your abilities, and only a second later you heard him screaming. Almost immediately you spotted him tumbling to the ground, the demobats descending upon him with ravenous hunger.

"HEY! LEAVE HIM ALONE!!” You shouted and charged forth, trying to get them away from him by any means necessary. You kicked them, strangled them, impaled them, before taking out a secretly-packed gun and shooting it in the air, killing one bat while the rest of the swarm dispersed for the moment.

All the while, Eddie noticed you and watched with awe and shock as you fought to save him, tearing a bat away from his chest before it could sink its teeth in.

Seeing you fight strengthened his resolve as he swung his shield to knock away another one. Soon he staggered to his feet and hit them with all his might, neither of you stopping.

The others must have incapacitated Vecna at some point, because eventually the bats stopped coming, and you were both surrounded by the corpses of many.

Dazed and exhausted, you sat on the ground together. You shed the metal plates that were now dented, scratched, and just barely hanging onto you, seeing no need for them anymore. Then you looked at each other, covered in cuts and bite marks.

“Hey.”

“Hey..” Eddie flashed you a slightly bloodstained smile before suddenly slumping into your arms.

“Woah--hey, hey..stay with me, Eddie.” You were quick to hold him and let him lay down in your lap. And you tore off a part of your sleeve that was already falling off to cover the bite wound on his neck, hoping he wasn’t losing too much blood. It didn’t look deep, but you weren’t taking any chances.

“It’s okay. It’s over. You’re gonna get through this.” Your voice was shaky, but you remained calm for his sake. You had to.

“Y-You came back for me...?”

“Of course I did.” Nodding, you smiled tearfully, relieved he was talking. “I couldn’t abandon you in this hellhole. But...why did you do that? We could’ve made it.”

“I didn’t wanna run away this time..” He choked out as a tear slipped down his cheek. You wiped it away, not minding the blood that stained your fingers. With a sniffle, he looked at you with large brown eyes, which seemed nearly pitch black. “I couldn’t run, [y/n]. N-Not again.”

“That’s what I figured. God, you’re the bravest motherfucker I’ve ever met, Eddie.” With a tired laugh you held him close, keeping pressure on the wound as you both waited for help to arrive.

It was gonna be okay.

He’ll make it. Both of you will.

#this was a perfect prompt ty #clanask #anonymous #stranger things x reader #st4 x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things spoilers #st4 spoilers #comfort prompt #hurt/comfort prompt

[enhanced-operatives-division]

Junicrane/Starstruck Ramble

I will not be brief, all under the cut

To clear some things right off the bat:

No corpse, no proof with Juniper. Obligatory this is set in a canon where he's alive and adjacent to the agency in some way.

Reggie & Juniper are just gay to me, but I don't mind any interpretation of their sexuality

The games are set in 1967/68 to me (based on a couple bits in game) which is before it was legal to be gay in America at least (1971), which is relevant to how I interpret canon as being somewhat grounded in reality, despite unrealistic elements.

This is just an insane amount of headcanons/elements of and AU all culminated into one post. I will talk about some headcanons like they're just facts because they are established in my head, and it saves me over explaining literally everything, however I will explain some parts a little bit for clarity.

Alright. Actual beginning of the ramble:

Juniper is a character to me who had gotten so lost in his job as an actor and a social presence that in the end his whole life revolved around that 'role'. Because of this, by the time he's put into the situation where he's around the Agency, he basically knows nothing about himself, though he doesn't realise at first. Furthermore, what little identity he had has changed in so many ways. He's no longer a beloved famous actor in the prominence of public light, he's legally dead and he tarnished his career just before he was supposed to die, with the bonus of that making him lose the majority of his estate. From that, he also has horrific facial scarring from the electrical burns from literally having his face fried. I believe a friend of mine made a post about this a while ago (I also think they were the first to think it up also), but, to me, Juniper has a permanent trimmer in his right arm (aka his dominant hand) from the electrical current and it is messing with his nervous system.

All in all, he's not doing great, but he's too proud to admit that he's not doing great, because if anything, what's left of his ego is all he has as a defense since he's deep in unfamiliar water.

Before ending up around the agency (I have multiple interpretations of this, so I'm just going to bring it up generally), he'd never actually seen Reggie, and his only impression of him is a single voicemail, which was his only reference he had to later impersonate him. Juniper probably has very little feelings other than the ones he projects onto him because of Phoenix and that, at the very least, he's physically attracted to Reggie to some degree (that's like the beginning of how everything else would tumble into place in this sort of interpretation at least).

And on Crane's side? His feelings towards Juniper are probably very intense and muddled. On the one hand, he adores musical theatre, and that's his now ex-favourite actor. The thought of just casually being around him blows the bit of fanboy in him away at first because THAT'S the GUY, plus the inklings of a celebrity crush which still poke at him. And then there's the rational side of him, which knows Juniper has committed absolute atrocities on the side of Zoraxis, and hates him for that. Then there's how much Juniper comes off as an asshole at first because he refuses to cooperate with anything the Agency tried to put in place. He finds Juniper endlessly frustrating, and yet he's stuck working with him since, afterall, he's the one who knows the Agency's history with Juniper the best. I imagine him acting a lot like how he does IEYTD 1 around Juniper.

At this point, I'm just describing the pitch for a romcom.

I think the start of their relationship with one another largely started with Juniper trying to wind Crane up. It was a way of getting his attention, and I don't think Juniper knows why he's so dead set on that at first, because I don't think he realises he has a crush on 'this grump' at first. (I think that's actually the fun part about these two, because it's almost like a role reversal of the celebrity crush dynamic. This ex-big name actor has a TERRIBLE crush on an average joe and it is KILLING HIM.) But of course the Agency keeps them together because Juniper is at least conversing with Crane, so it's a start.

Through one way or another, they actually get talking casually, at least mildly at first. It takes Juniper a long time to fully deconstruct the wall he's built, and the thing is, Crane isn't the one trying to deconstruct it, at least at first, because yeah, Juniper realises if he wants Reggie to actually like him in any way, he can't keep winding him up. So they talk. Small talk at first, something rhythmic and almost easy to keep to a script. And over time that turns into actual conversations. Genuine ones in which Reggie rips out the occasional one of his jokes which Juniper is endlessly endeared about. The way he smiles just before he makes them, like he wants to chuckle at what he's about to say before he says it. That's probably when Juniper realised that he does have some vague crush on him, and that it wasn't going away.

This is what kickstarts John I can't-buy-you-things-to-impress-you-so-acts-of-service-it-is Juniper to do little things for him. It mostly starts off as him trying to make Reggie his tea how he likes it. However, the nerve damage in his arm makes that hard, as the weight of the kettle and trying to pour is hard all of a sudden. And he refuses to accept that, so he tries for a very long while. Long enough that Crane would go to investigate what was going on. And when he does see Juniper leaning over a cup with the kettle as he uneasily tries to pour it, and when Crane asks Juniper responds so matter-of-fact that his intention is nothing but genuine. And it catches Reggie off guard because Juniper hadn't done anything like that up to that point, and his very apparent vulnerability is so clearly on show.

It shifts something between them.

From that point on, conversations are longer, more familiar. Both of their attitudes soften, and Reggie makes more jokes. Juniper learns how to better use his left hand while strengthening his right back to a point where it could be used again. Slowly, they're both spending time with one another not because they have to, but just because they can. Little bits at first, not too far outside what they already were doing, but those little bits turned into long bits to a point where the other person's company was genuinely desirable.

As time passes, Juniper probably realises that he doesn't genuinely know much about himself or what hobbies he's into, because he never really had the time when he got big, and his home life in his youth wasn't bad, but it wasn't picturesque. I think Reggie would pick up on it, and absolutely try to introduce him to some things he's into. Some things stick, other things don't (corn husking very much stays Reggie's passion, and John will go with him sometimes because it's him, but it's not something he strongly cares for). Crane introduces him to a lot of music, and it's something that becomes a staple between them, with tracks they listen to more than others (tragically, I know relatively little about 60s music so I couldn't really say what). Occasionally they dance, never anything intense, think slow dancing, but the closeness is nice.

Through all of it, Juniper is battling the worst crush of his life, and he can't stand it, because I think he struggles to read people since he doesn't have anything like a script or a director to refer back to, so he has no idea if Reggie likes him back or if he's just desperate for that to be true. I think because of that any sort of confession between them would be incredibly raw, not only because of the time they live in making it hard for them to be truthful about how they love, but because it's a complete show of Juniper who's worked to be this better person. I don't exactly know how that would go, mainly because I don't have one set version of their dynamic, this post is just a generalisation of main consistent points.

Reggie does like him back, because he's gotten used to Juniper being just this guy, not a figure in the public eye, not a Zoraxis lackey, and not any sort of Agency operative (despite being under their care to some degree). He's someone he genuinely cares for, because they've given one another the time of day to learn one another, and I think because Reggie was a field agent, he was a lot better at reading Juniper than Juniper was at reading him. Eventually Juniper's company becomes something he could see around him for the rest of his life, and I think he accepts that he likes Juniper a lot more gracefully.

I think any affection directed at Juniper would at first be met with him feeling a little muddled. Reggie was a very physically affectionate person when he could be, and sure the initial flirting with one another came with the occasional little touches, but everything now was so deeply intentional. I also don't think Juniper would almost ever get over the novelty of being able to kiss him, or many other gestures, because it made the fact that they were together so very real, and it was great. I do think it comes easier to Reggie, and it's a big way of showing how much he cares, so it's important for Juniper to try and show it back because he knows how much it means to the other.

I like the idea of them eventually living with one another, too. I think Juniper would have always had a quiet little daydream of sorts where he does just live a domestic quiet life, and he can with Reggie (well, as close as they can get between the Agency and Zoraxis always being at odds), and he loves that, and he loves him, and it's immense.

I think they cook for one another a lot, it helps Juniper work on his dexterity in a controlled environment, which means a lot because it's a huge point of insecurity (that and his scars). He does improve, and Crane is proud of that and shows it and it's great. I also think they'd probably cook together too, because they can deal with being in the kitchen together and they work well with one another. It's probably a good way for them to unwind because over time they can do it in relative silence.

As I said before, I also think music is a staple in their household, and that Reggie listens to things on vinyl almost all of the time because he likes the background noise. Sometimes Juniper will catch him chuntering along to the music which he finds endlessly endearing. I wouldn't put it past his dramatic ass to also join in to fluster Reggie, but I also don't think Reggie would mind that terribly because Juniper has listened to the music enough to know the lyrics, and that's huge to him.

I don't think they are without rough patches, no relationship is, but I think the good part about them is that they're willing to talk about it (... eventually). They're used to long conversations, and while they're often less fun conversations, they're needed and they know that, and it works out.

Alright. I think I'm done for now. I haven't mentioned everything, but this definitely got the worst of it out of my system. If you ever want to hear any specific thoughts my ask box is open but other than that, behold my general dynamic for these two which has been festering in my head for years. I think they're great

#ty right-agent for explicitly telling me that this would be welcomed you a real one #i had a massive babble to my friend abt what if they all feed me to the hounds for speaking #and he said “girl that fandom is like 12 people big they need you to speak” and yeah that also helped #i have a hard time talking if I'm not asked/prompted to that's why i adding tags is great for me. that and i like the format #anyways. #THESE TWO.............dear lord can you tell I have been unwell abt them forever.. #this is propeganda (/j) for them. btw. please you have to understand the potential here. it's so good. #it's slowburn <- my (probably) demiromantic ass cannot handle romance without a build up and this set up is perfect (it will never happen) #also i find it easier to write ANYTHING between these two from Juniper's perspective because i find it easier to get into his head #idk reggie is like the gay version of the: what is he thinking of? i could take a bear in a fight. audio ive heard. #whereas with juniper i have him trapped under a microscope #im going to tag this now so i can use the remaining tags to RANT #ieytd #john juniper #reginald crane #junicrane #starstruck #i expect you to die #<- being BRAVE!!! #when I get really excited i start getting like this internal shaking feeling and uh. yeah this rant started that #the worst part abt that is it also triggers my tourettes so like. double whammy. excited about blorbos? jail :( #but. yeah I uh. yeah. sorry this IS so long..I did warn but . AUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAHHHHHHHHHAUUUUUUAHHHHHHHHHHHHH #also i did this rant in 2 parts. last night and this morning so yeah uh. yeah. #god im so messed up about these two #make me a boat by the family crest came on while wroting this and while it's mainly a roxanix song to me......AUUUUUG..... #i struggle to find music for these sillies because they have such a specific vibe to me amd I've not quite managed to find something which - #- genuinely feels correct for them and it drives me up the WALL #GOD NIGHT SHIFT JUST CAME OF SHUFFL.....all my ieytd songs are coming out to drive me up the wall....... #FINISHED I've been adding tags as I've gone alonga #thank you for reading hope you enoyed and if you didn't im sorry

[dungeons-and-dragon-age]

Merrill for A8 c:

pics taken seconds before murder

[prompts]

#ty for the prompt!! #loved drawing her :] #da2 #merrill #my art #drawing prompts #perfect expression for perfect girl

[warblercore]

never leave christmas shopping til the last minute: christmas shopping with klaine <3

ty @kurtsascot for the idea!!!!

#my art #dont worry about blaine holding all the bags!!!! kurt will help soon he's just very stressed about finding the perfect dress for his roomie! #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #klaine #glee #glee fanart #tumblr user kurtsascot u always give me great art prompts ty ty ty

[florthier-than-thou]

I found this on Reddit, but I have been informed it was originally made by @manaquartz! :D

#iwatex #i was a teenage exocolonist #iwatexfanweek2023 #beach day #Vace exocolonist #Rex exocolonist #I probably should have drawn something but this meme is already so perfect for the prompt lol #ty whomever posted this on reddit

[the-penguinspy]

19. “You deserve so much better.” mary x shannon

thanks for the prompt, em :)

--

The late afternoon sunlight casts a muted, golden hue on the courtyard, light shining through in lazy bursts at the behest of the clouds fast-moving eastward. A gentle breeze ruffles the grass and provides a welcome respite against the heat, no doubt refreshing for those sister warriors at the tail-end of the day’s training sessions, especially evident to those who close their eyes and tilt their heads toward the heading of the wind.

All-in-all, a serene end to the day. Mary is certain that she’d be enjoying it a lot more if she wasn’t currently following Shannon to the outdoor sparring mats.

They reach the mats and Shannon starts stretching immediately. Mary stares for a second before she starts her own warm-ups. “Remind me why we’re doing this again?”

“Your shotguns do an excellent job at keeping enemies at bay, but what happens when you run out of ammo? What happens if someone gets inside of your guard?” Shannon stands and brings her legs together, bends at the waist until her palms touch the floor. Mary simply continues with her arm stretches. Show off. 

“That’s why I have two shotguns, instead of just one.” 

Shannon frowns, straightening her body once more. “I’m serious. I know you can take care of yourself, but I still worry about you.” She takes Mary’s hand and squeezes gently, and when she speaks, her voice is soft. “Humour me this once. We can see how it goes.”

Mary squeezes her hand back and sighs. “Fine, but only if your next prank is played on Lil. It’s her fault that I still double-check the sugar and salt shakers each time I use them.”

//

A dozen instances of eating mat and Mary finally, finally performs the disarming maneuver successfully. Shannon grins proudly, canines sharp, and Mary looks at her mouth just in time to catch a tongue darting quick over teeth. She resets her body into the starting position once more, and Mary rolls her shoulders before mirroring her stance. 

“Again.”

//

By the time Shannon calls for a stop, the sun had already reached the horizon and painted the sky into a beautiful red-orange. Mary flops down on her back to better appreciate the view, heartbeat hummingbird-quick, her breathing still ragged from the impromptu training session.

She hears Shannon shuffle down beside her, looks over to see legs stretched parallel to her own. Shannon leans back on her hands, nary a hair out of place and with only the slightest sheen of sweat on her forehead to give evidence of physical exertion.

They stay that way until Mary’s stomach growls. “Any idea what they’re serving for supper?”

“Mashed potatoes and roasted veggies, if my sources are correct.”

Mary closes her eyes and groans. “Ugh, mashed potatoes again? After that workout you put me through? I deserve so much better.”

“You deserve so much better,” Shannon agrees.

Something’s off about her voice. It wavered a bit at the end, and Mary looks over to assess if there’s anything wrong. Shannon keeps her gaze trained in front of them, squinting at the sunset, her mouth set in a neutral line. Her face is a careful mix of nonchalance and solemnity, and she would have succeeded in her portrayal of such if her lip hadn’t wobbled when Mary looked over, if her teeth hadn’t bitten down on the inside of her bottom lip to tamp down a smile. For an enthusiastic practical joker, Shannon’s got a surprisingly bad poker face.

Mary narrows her eyes and scrambles to sit up. “Shan.” A responding hum. “I know that look. What do you have planned?”

Shannon turns to face her and, now caught, releases the abused lip to offer her happiness freely. “You deserve so much better,” she repeats. “You deserve someone who you can kiss in public, someone you can love in the open.” Her smile wavers slightly. “You deserve someone who can stay.”

“Shannon.” The name rasps out of Mary’s mouth, and she brings a hand up to cradle Shannon’s cheek. “It’s my choice to be here, to be here with you. I love you, I’m staying, and there’s nothing that you, or anyone, or the goddamn universe can do that’ll make me leave.” 

“Language,” Shannon says, but her smile settles, is no longer turbulent, and she turns her face into Mary’s palm to hide it. The heat of her cheek spreads evenly through Mary’s palm, and the small kiss that Shannon places there electrifies her skin. Tiny bolts of lightning travel up her arm and through her veins, thousands strong; restarts her heart and awakens her body, and Mary blinks fast in an effort to stabilize her focus.

“You also deserve,” Shannon continues, “a reward.” The words come out muffled against Mary’s hand, vibrations smoothing out over the skin, and Mary leans in to hear her better. “Seafood paella. That place by the beach, the one with the perfect shrimp-to-clam ratio? I’ve made a reservation.”

Mary laughs, touched, and her affection spills out in the form of a thumb stroking reverent over Shannon’s cheek. “And what exactly am I being rewarded for?”

Shannon’s smile turns sharp. “Finishing a session of hand-to-hand combat training. I think they call that positive reinforcement or something.”

The eye-roll from Mary is inevitable. “They don’t take reservations. It’s barely busy at this hour, too.” “Is it so wrong to want everything to go smoothly?” 

Mary smirks. “Everything, huh? There’s more to this little date of ours?” Shannon flushes, cheeks turning rosy. She keeps her gaze locked with Mary’s and brings her own hand up, fingers circling Mary’s wrist. Her thumb brushes over Mary’s pulse – a quick one-two pass – and Mary watches as the thumb is replaced with lips, as Shannon presses a slow kiss over thin blue veins, pressure feather-light, imprint barely-there. 

The expression on her face must be amusing at the very least, because Shannon’s mouth curves upwards and chuckles, and the breath that Mary had been holding in finally finds its way out. Her lungs snatch greedily at the air, and she’s certain that her unsteady breathing isn’t due to the lingering exertion from their earlier spar. 

“Are you coming, or what?”

Shannon’s already on her feet. She stands in front of Mary, extends a hand down and wiggles her fingers to entice a handhold. The sun from behind her casts her shadow long and dark over Mary, over the courtyard. In the shadow of her face, her smile is a gentle arc; small and shy, directed towards one recipient, and one recipient only. 

Mary takes her hand and hoists herself up from the ground. “Obviously. Can’t let that hard-fought reservation go to waste.”

Shannon shoves at her shoulder playfully, but their hands stay linked all the way to Mary’s parked motorcycle.

#warrior nun #warrior nun fic #mary x shannon #shotgun mary #shannon masters #penguin writes #[grits teeth] it doesn't have to be perfect. it doesn't have to be perfect. it doesn't have to be- #nahh 'twas a fun one as usual so ty em :) #brain's just gotta thinkie less sometimes...smth im working on #sloooowly making my way thru these prompts jfdjdjf #birgittesilverbae

[phloxmagpie]

Hi! , A random prompt idea, a Brio scene inspired by one of your favorite Jess x Rory scenes ( or any of your other fav otp scenes) please . 🥰 ✨

After she uses her elbow to make some room on the counter completely obscured by an array of dirty mixing bowls, open spice jars, and soiled paper towels, Beth sets down the dish. Then she tosses the sweet potatoes with a dressing of oil, balsamic, lime juice, and cilantro she’d whisked together earlier, and grabs her phone to flip back from her text thread with Dean to Instagram. 

rio_dedinero: you going for first place?

making.marks: It’s not really a competition

rio_dedinero: isnt it tho

making.marks: No! It’s a fundraiser. The money goes to all of us.

rio_dedinero: but whoever has the best basket gets the highest bidder… that’s the winner yeah?

making.marks: Technically. I guess.

She says it as if it hadn’t already crossed her mind, as if it didn’t inform her choice to make such an elaborate spread for her own basket. She didn’t know if Dean would bring enough money for her to get the highest bid (or if he was coming at all now), but she did know that no basket would be worth more than hers. (And she knew Mrs. Yoder, the Culinary Club advisor, would be impressed, too.)

rio_dedinero: so are you gonna win or not marks?

Nibbling on her thumbnail, she glances around the room. Then, impulsively, she stacks every dirty dish she can by the sink, takes a soapy sponge to the kitchen island, and pulls every single one of her Tupperware out of the fridge. With a hop, she perches on her step stool and then snaps and sends him an aerial photo of her spread, making sure to choose a filter that makes the colors pop—the reds of the watermelon and tomatoes, the greens of the jalapeños and cilantro, the oranges of the hummus and potatoes. 

Slipping her phone into her apron pocket, Beth dumps the dry ingredients into the other bowl and stirs. She swipes her finger through the concoction and tastes the perfect hint of chili powder. Licking her lips, she pours the finished brownie mix into the baking pan. Then, while carrying it over to the oven, she sneaks a peek at her phone again. 

rio_dedinero: goddamn 

rio_dedinero: nobody else stands a fucking chance 

making.marks: ☺️

rio_dedinero: maybe ill have to come bid

Beth stares at the words on the screen, and suddenly she feels warm all over, scorching, even—like the entire kitchen is sweltering in the heat of the oven. Her tongue feels thick and heavy in her mouth, and when she tries to think of something to respond, she finds her head is as empty as the batter bowl she’d just scraped clean. 

A text pops up at the top of the screen. 

Dean again.

What was taking him so long between texts, anyway?

its a friends birthday today

Instinctively, she knows it’s Amber’s. She doesn’t need to check—doesn’t need to see the post that she knows will be there of her wearing a tiara or a sash or something else stupid, like a birthday girl crop top—but she does anyway. 

Or she does after she impulsively double taps Rio’s last message and the little red heart appears, at least. 

She types one final message to Dean. 

It’s as important as you want it to be. 

Then she turns off her phone. 

#this prompt made my INSANE ty anon #i've weaved so many rory/jess moments into delinquents but i always wanted to do the picnic scene and never could make it fit #this gave me the perfect excuse #i wrote 3k yesterday and i'm not even at the picnic bidding yet lol #wip stuff #going once going twice

[byanyan]

@gcldfanged sent:ㅤ"So, pretty please with fucking sugar on top- Who the FUCK is Sol and why's he more important than doing work for me, huh?" Jae demands, clearly not very happy that he hadn't been able to get in contact with his favorite little pickpocket/contraband pack mule.

ㅤuh oh.

ㅤit's true that they played a little hooky from work this evening, but wasn't supposed to be for long — half an hour, that's all! they'd spend half an hour distracting sol from his homework, and then they'd be right back to it. ...except, half an hour had turned into an hour, distraction turned to dinner, to letting themself get distracted, to not realizing how late it was until they noticed it was pitch dark outside and they had several missed calls and unread messages.

it was a mistake, sure, but not one they thought much of. they'd come up with some excuse on their way to meet up with jae, feed it to him, and things would be fine.

ㅤ—that's what they thought, anyway.

met with a none too pleased looking jae-hyo, byan's mouth opens to spew some bullshit about having to search for their phone after dropping it off a rooftop, about how they had to run around for hours trying to find somewhere to get it fixed or find a replacement— ...only to be cut abruptly short when their boyfriend's name leaves the other's lips. eyes widen in alarm, panic fluttering in their chest as they stare at the man before them in stunned silence. they've... never mentioned sol before — not even in passing, let alone by name — so... where did he hear it? —and how does he know that that's who they were with? had they been watched? did someone go through their shit? who told him?

ㅤㅤ" that's— "ㅤall but stammering in surprise, the teen bites their tongue and fights to regain their composure. okay, so their excuse is off the table, so what? they can still get out of this! and they can do it without admitting to having been distracted by their boyfriend, too! they can keep him out of all this. they will keep him out of all this.

clearing their throat, byan relaxes their stance, forces down the hint of fear that flickers at the corner of their mind, and shakes the shock from their features with an intentionally casual roll of their shoulders.

ㅤㅤ" he's just some kid in my class, "ㅤthey lie easily, although perhaps less believably than if they had come out the gate with it rather than staring dumbfounded at jae for a full minute beforehand.ㅤ" he was helpin' me with some'a my homework, tonight was the only night he was free. didn't think it'd be a big deal, i wasn't there that long. 'sides, i still got all night that i can work, so fuckin' chill. "

is it wise, telling the pissed off guy they work under to chill over their own fuck up? probably not, but being more respectful would surely only raise more suspicion. with an idle sniff, byan reaches back to pull free their loose hair tie, beginning to regather the ponytail that had ceased to be thanks to their rather frantic run to get here from sol's place, all while squinting at jae.

ㅤㅤ" how'd you know who i was with, anyway? you got someone babysittin' me? 'n here i thought you trusted me. "

#gcldfanged #━━ ˟ ⊰ ✰ answered: ic ⋮ i am a vulture that feeds on pain. #byan vc: *chuckles* i'm in danger #.........look so this got away from me a little bit #but they have this Thing about wanting to keep sol separate from the more serious illegal activity they get into #and this was too perfect to not explore that a little (: #.....also i genuinely wasn't sure if this was unprompted or a prompt for that meme i reblogged earlier lmao #EITHER WAY it was fun so ty

[inafieldofdaisies]

🖊🖊🖊 + any oc! <3

Prompt: Send me a “🖊 + an OC“ and I will talk about that OC. It can be a headcanon, a fun fact, a small paragraph of backstory- anything.

🖊️ Mer's real last name (the one she was born with and always returns to once she's done with a con) means "army hill". Symbolism. And yes, she chose it before I even knew of the meaning. 😂

🖊️ Cal used to and would still on occasion flirt as a joke (and she'd flirt back naturally) with Adelaide because he thinks it's hilarious how flustered Hurk gets about it.

🖊️ His dream is indeed to see Leslie dressed as John, if only just so he can prove to him once and for all they look alike 😂Leslie's not amused by his insistence.

#Calahan - a menace even to his friends 😂😂😂 #Mercedes - set on proving to me she's perfect for Jakey 😂 #ty for the ask <3 #oc: mercedes “mercy” sibley #oc: calahan hartley #oc headcanons #oc ask #ask prompt #character ask #fc5 ocs #friends ocs #wip: in hope of tomorrow #original characters #character insights #character info #character background #my ocs #fc5 deputy

[taintedcigs]

i slept with someone from corroded coffin and all i got was this stupid song written about me.

ROCKSTAR!FBOY!EDDIE X READER

summary: fooling around with a famous rockstar who's a notorious playboy sounds perfect on paper, until you catch feelings for him. that's why you decide to end things, to not get your feelings get hurt, and its all going perfectly, until eddie releases a song, written all about you.

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising?, lovey dovey, kinda angst and arguments, drgs & alcohol mention, swearing? idk this is kinda cheesy n cute with a mix of fluff sprinkled honestly!

author's note: the indented parts are texts between steve and reader and thenn reader and eddie. they look confusing as fuck im sorry i just wanted to make them look unique but they look stupid. also yes. i patted myself in the back after i found this title (thank you fob). and yes the lyrics are inspired by i don't care im on a fob kick sue me! and ofc fboy!eddie isn't actually that much of a fboy bc if i can't write lovesick eddie ill die. this is super cheesy so i still struggled a lot but UGH. not proof-read ignore all mistakes

also credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts! (i changed them but still!) and @saradika for the dividers! pls like + rb + interact w me in anyway to support my writings!! ty!!

DINGUS sent you a spotify link. did you listen to this? yeah. its kinda romantic. no. the lyrics are insane. n all about u okay? are u at the party rn? yeah. u comin? soon he’s there too u already knew that, didn’t u?  false accusations r rude, steve.

You click your phone off with a groan, but he was right. You couldn’t stay away from him, and maybe, just maybe, this was your way of running into him, accidentally. 

Because ever since he released the song, the tabloids had gone crazy with it, half of the lyrics screamed you and all of the old headlines pointed at you, the mystery girl Eddie used to be seen with, and you really were growing tired of seeing your name next to “Munson’s new girl.” 

Because you weren’t his new girl, you weren’t his anything. He was a cocky asshole who was good with a guitar and was even better at fucking. And that was something both of you could relate to, the only thing you had in common with him. Or, so you thought. 

But of course, as with everything else, the things between you changed, you started staying over, he started staying over, and the two of you even went on fucking dates, disguising them under ‘we were just hungry, is all.’ 

You tried to keep up the cool girl act, like you could fuck someone and not catch feelings. Every inch of you itched not to care, to act like it was all fine, but it was all fucking bullshit, you cared, so fucking much that your chest ached. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him, and the more you fell for him, the more you realized there was no fucking way this would work. 

Cocky rockstar who spent more time doing drugs than sleeping, with girls all over him? The imaginary red flag bells rang in your ear, even now. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and you knew that. That’s why you ended it two months ago. Or at least, you started ignoring him two months ago. 

Yet, he had been calling and texting you, wanting to meet up, drunken slurs of nonsense, gibberish voicemails, and yet you never answered, because if you did, you knew you’d be back to pathetically swooning over him.

Until today, just because of that stupid song, like it meant anything. That douchebag probably wrote songs about every girl he fucked. 

You weren’t special. 

Another ding sound from your phone almost startled you, the contact name made you groan even louder. “don’t FUCKING answer.” That didn’t mean shit. It was just something stupid to make you feel better that you couldn’t stay away from him, because you knew, deep down that if you really didn’t want him to contact you, you would’ve deleted his number, and blocked him. You were too chicken shit to do that, and still desperately wanted to hear from him. 

So you settled on that contact name. Like it made a difference, like it changed anything. 

DONT FUCKING ANSWER did you listen to the song?

Don’t fucking answer. The contact name should be enough to convince yourself that.

Too late.

                                                                   no. don’t lie to me, sweetheart.                                                                            why would i lie?

You sink into the couch, a much quieter corner of the party, not even bothering to socialize. Your brows furrow, index finger flying to your lips anxiously, as you chew on it to patiently wait for an answer.

You sip on your drink with a nervous gaze on your screen, barely noticing the way the couch sink further when someone else took a seat next to you. 

“Hi.” The gravelly voice pulls your attention away from the screen, making you set your drink aside as you look up, finding yourself face-to-face with him. 

Shaggy bangs cascade onto his forehead, and with your exaggeration, it looks longer than the last time you saw him. Black jeans cladded with chains. A graphic tee messily thrown over his heavily tatted chest, that you could still imagine right about now—pathetic. He looked just about the same, the deep dimple adorning his soft cheeks had seemed to disappear, wearing a scowl instead, that tiny voice in your head told you that was your doing, that maybe he was just as miserable as you. Maybe your feelings weren’t fully one-sided.  

Shit. 

“Eddie?” Squeaky, and annoying, you were sure that’s how your tone sounded, yet he didn’t seem to comment on it.

“‘m glad you remember my name, sweetheart,” he scoffs sarcastically, leaning further into the plush couch, elbow propped at the side, eyeing you with frustration. 

“W—what the hell are you doing here?” You stutter as if you weren’t expecting to run into him. Full of bullshit. 

“Did ya really think you could ignore me forever, huh?” He tilts his head slightly, almost expectedly, earning an eye roll from you. 

“I wasn’t ignoring yo—”

Eddie tuts quickly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cuts through the ambient noise of the party, “I thought we said no more lies, huh?” 

With a huff, “Why are you here, Eddie?” you mumble.

“Am I not allowed to party?” He banters, brows slightly raised, making you huff out an exasperated breath, your eyes bore into him, almost to signal him ‘Take this seriously.’

“I wanted to know what you thought.” He shrugs like it was normal to just come running after everything just to know what you thought of the song. 

“The song?” He nods in confirmation.

“Didn’t like it,” you confess, avoiding his gaze, but your brows betray you, lifting ever so slightly.

He tsks, shutting you off quickly, “You see that little quirk your brow did? That only happens when you lie, you can’t help it. You do that when I ask you if you ate the last pizza slice, or when I ask if you watched the next episode of the show we were supposed to watch together, or when you—” 

“Fine, fine! I liked it,” you groan, interrupting him and suddenly standing up from the comfort of the couch, being so face-to-face with him immediately making your nerves bubble.

“Just liked?” He tilts his head slightly, a smirk curving on his lips. 

A deep sigh of breath, “what do you want, Munson?”

He stands up with you, making you back away from him with a heavy footstep, the entire party was too loud and crowded, yet, in this stupid corner, it was just the two of you. “For you to admit that you loooved the song, and how much you missed me,” he sing-songs, taking a step closer to you, musky smell invading your senses, making you take a deep breath.

Both of you stand near the wall, and it should be awkward, it should be enough to make you leave, but all it does is draw you closer to him.

“You’re annoying.” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t avoiding—” He tuts, with his stupid index finger up, rejecting your lie.

“I—I don’t know what you expected.” You shrug, so nonchalantly that his gaze narrows, chest aching with the implications of your words.

“We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, didn’t we?” You chew the inside of your lip to stop those tears that had been begging to flow ever since you listened to the song, wiping off that smirk on Eddie’s lips. 

“Would’ve been nice if I got a reminder, and not have been just fully ghosted, huh?” The brunette grumbles with a downturn of his lips, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, isn’t that what you do all the fucking time?” you snap, gaze narrowed, and arms crossed against your chest. 

“Fuck girls and then leave them? Did it crush your ego this fucking much that I did before you could?” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” He retaliates. 

“It means I was smart enough to pull myself away from your bullshit,” you rasp, disdain written all over your face.The room seems to shrink as the distance between you decreases. 

Another step closer to you, and you didn’t realize your back had hit the wall now. “My bullshit? God, that’s fucking rich, if I seem to recall correctly sweetheart, you were in this as much as I fucking was!”

“Oh, was I?” You bark out a chuckle, cruel, mocking, “I don’t remember being okay with you fucking half the city.” Realization of how bitter and jealous that sounds, dawns on you much later than the words leave your lips, and thankfully, Eddie’s too fucking immersed to realize the double meaning of your words. 

“Are you fucking kidding? No strings attached! Non-exclusive! That’s what you fuckin’ signed up for!” His voice echoes, mirroring his frustration, and you open your mouth.

But he doesn’t let you speak further, cutting you off sharply. “Is this all because of that new guy you’re seein’?” 

“What? What guy?” 

“The one who was all over you earlier,” he bites out, jaw clenched, and you can almost taste his bitterness in the air.  

“The same one you fucked at Jeff’s party.”

“Are you stalking me, Munson?” 

“Did you just want an excuse to end things? Are the two of you serious or somethin’?” His voice wavered between anger and desperation, gaze pathetically searching for yours, to gauge your reaction.

You scoff. Did he really think you’d end things because of a stupid fling you had which in the first place occurred just so you could forget him? He was so goddamn clueless it drove you insane. 

But what you didn’t realize was that you were just as clueless, if not more, because why would he write a song all about you, if this was just about sex? Because who would get so jealous of someone they didn’t care about? 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

The lyrics from his stupid song swirled your thoughts, yet you were still too stupid to see it, weren’t you?

Another step closer to you, a dangerous game the two of you liked to play. He smelled alluring, a fucked up mix of nicotine, his musky cologne, and that damn leather jacket. “Do you really think, he could compare to me, sweetheart?” 

Say my name and his in the same breath.

“Tell me he’s fucking better, and he’s actually what you want, and I’ll fucking leave, I’ll bury all the other songs I wrote, tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

I dare you to say they taste the same. 

And just like that, all the defenses you put up, all the times you ignored him, they are cracked, disappearing into thin air. You hate it, you hate that he has this effect on you, you can feel your mind getting hazier, eyes blinking rapidly to process what the fuck is going on, and his face is mere inches away from yours. You knew their names didn’t taste the same. And you knew he could never ever compare to Eddie.

“Tell me,” he encourages, dares you to. You fail to notice how much emotion his gaze carries, how the corners of his lips twitch, just at the thought of you finally admitting you don’t want him. His stomach turns at the thought, this is his last chance, he knows that, and he can’t fucking lose you. He can’t. 

And you don’t know any of that, but you knew, know that no one else could compare to him. And you hate yourself for thinking that, you hate yourself for falling for him, the world stops rotating on its axis when he’s in your peripheral vision, and it’s fucking disgusting. Pathetic. Stupid. Because you know the two of you have no chance. But here you are. 

“H—he is b—” Of course, your brow quirks up almost immediately, betraying you quicker than you can even attempt to lie. 

That dawning smirk appears on his lips again, it’s mocking, and just as much smug. You want to wipe it off of his stupidly pretty face. “Tell me,” he dares you, again. This time much cockier and confident, and you suddenly realize how small you feel under him.

“He isn’t,” your meek voice is barely audible.

And you don’t register the shaky breath he draws when the words leave your lips, giving him the confirmation he needs. You wanted him, he had no fucking clue why you ghosted him, yet you still wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you. 

Both of his hands were placed on the wall now, towering over you, making your breath get caught up in your throat. “Speak up.”

“No, fuck! You know he’s not, you know he could never fucking compare to you, you fucking know tha—” He shuts you up with a rough kiss, lips pressed against yours messily, letting the petty comments die down your throat. Because this is all he wanted, needed to hear anyway. 

“Up,” he grunts into the kiss, tapping your thighs, hoisting you up from your waist to help you wrap your legs around him, tight, he wants you at his mercy, locked to him. 

You wrap your legs around him, barely, the melty sensation in your knees making you so shaky that he barks out a laugh into your lips, holding you close, firm, the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across your body.

He lifts you up as if you are weightless, arms wrapped around you strongly as he carries you to the nearest empty bedroom, impressively without hitting your back anywhere, so roughly that your core throbs at the feeling of his arms around you.

“Baby,” he mutters as he lowers you down on the bed swiftly, smooth, gaze darkened and pupils blown wide, all the pent up desire waiting to explode. 

“Eddie,” you beg, shaky voice sounding purely angelic to his ears once he got rid of his shirt, shrugging it off with a huff, his fingertips grazing against your top, feeling your hardened nipples, causing gasps out of you, he’s quick to pull it over your head while you run your fingers up the grooves of his stomach, the tip of your fingertips almost burns everywhere you touch. 

He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, “missed thi-you,” he corrects himself, because that’s all he wanted anyways, you. 

He nips at your nipples, tongue good at giving attention to both of them, all wet and warm, making you squirm under his touch, you’re quick to get rid of everything else, leaving you in your panties, making him grunt. 

The pad of his thumb rubs against your left nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake, while his other hand travels down your chest, then your stomach, finally drawing circles when it stops between your thighs, ghosting over your panties before he tugs them down your legs, spreading them apart with a slight hum, pupils blown so wide that you can’t admire those chocolate hues anymore. 

He visually drinks in that sight of you, laid down on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re completely at his mercy and his chest aches with need. “So pretty like this f’me,” he coos into your chest, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Making you feel so good that you can’t stop the gasps coming out of your lips.   

Pleasure shivers through everywhere he sucks and touches, his finger eases into you when he adds another one, a moan escaping you quickly. “Need to be in here, sweetheart, d’ya have any idea how much I missed this?” 

You don’t. You don’t know about the sleepless nights, the drunken ones, the drug-induced ones in an attempt to recreate the high you gave him. It’s fucked up, it’s insanely toxic. Yet, he can’t get enough of you. 

His gaze upon you is dangerous, maybe it’s because he had missed you so goddamn much, or maybe because he didn’t know where this would lead, but it felt fucking sentimental, different somehow, and he could feel you, everywhere on his skin.

Your hips start rocking up against him when the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit, making you arch your back, whines, mumbles leaving your lips. And all he can muster is, “so goddamn beautiful, look at you whining for me.”

You can feel his bulge rub against your thigh every now and then, it’s distracting, almost agonizing. You desperately need it inside of you, you had missed him, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him filling you to the brim, you missed seeing his face contort in pleasure when he was inside of you, you wanted him to never forget you again. 

That’s why you feel so numb, can barely speak, and of course, Eddie notices, how unusually quiet you are, and he wants to make this unforgettable, just so you have another reason to come back to him. Just so you don’t leave him, just so you stay forever. 

“Gone too quiet on me, honey, tell me what you need,” he coos down at you, thumb still caressing your pussy, and all you can fucking do is chew down on your bottom lips, eyeing his bulge that was begging to get out. And he barks out a goddamn chuckle, “P—please, Eddie.” Pathetically leaves your lips. 

And normally he would make you beg, tease further, but he reaches to tug down his pants quickly, because fuck, he had missed you. And he can’t bear the thought of not being inside of you any longer. 

Thinking is not your strongest suit right now either, your brain is mushy, all the nights and days spent thinking about him, about this explodes into your body. Your pussy aches when you finally see his cock again, a sound of need leaving your lips as you eye his length, so big that pleasure ripples through you, especially when you see his gushy tip, glistening with pre-cum. 

You want every fucking inch inside of you, and Eddie’s more than ready to oblige, “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“Need you, Eddie,” you moan, all fucked out, his fingers slip in and out of you still, but it isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he craves your validation like he never has before. 

“God, you’re soakin’ my fingers, princess,” he grunts, wedging himself between your thighs, weeping cock drips onto your inner thighs, making you moan breathlessly. “Tell me exactly what you fuckin’ want, honey.”

“Eddie.” His name sounds like silk, even when it’s so lewd, Eddie decides, and it makes him let out an impatient huff. “P—please. Need you to fuck me.” It’s so goddamn desperate that you can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but it’s everything to him.

“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart,” he grunts, lining his cock through your entrance, coating himself in your slick, enjoying your mewls before he doesn’t hesitate to push his cock inside of you, inch by inch, relishing the way you cry out for him. 

Greedily, you rock your hips into him, making him let out a frustrated groan. “Have no fuckin’ idea how much I missed this greedy cunt, sweetheart, shit.” He thrusts in a few more inches, and breathless moans and babbles of his name fill the air.

“Suckin’ me right in, baby, fuck, you’re so pretty like this, mhmm.” His cock moves inside of you, and your hands are wrapped around his back, desperately clawing at it, the fullness making you want more, “you like that, baby, like bein’ full of me?” A heavy sound leaves his lips, pathetic and you pulse around him. 

“S’so good Eddie, and s’big,” you barely manage to let out, and he watches you with that burning amber gaze, thrusting all the way in without hesitation. Those plushy lips that hang open, that filthy mouth, the prettiest fucking features—you, were going to be the death of him. 

Maybe it’s because you had missed him, or maybe because you hadn’t experienced this in a long time, or fuck, maybe, just maybe that the song had created a new type of need between the two of you. Using sex as a sort of connection that the both of you desperately needed. But, shit, was it this different this time. 

He felt different—his lips, touch, skin as it slapped against yours, it was different. 

Full. You feel so fucking full that your back involuntarily arches against him, fingers clenching desperately, your screams and cries filling the room the more he plunges inside of you, deeper, hungry, and just as greedy as you. 

“Yeah, better than that asshole?” It rolls off his lips so bitter and jealous that you can barely register it. Not being used to this possessive side of him, and it’s glorious, especially when he’s pounding his frustrations and insecurities into you. 

“Mhmm, so much better.” You clawed at his back, every thrust of his hip making you feel higher and higher, mind filled with nothing but him. 

“So pretty like this when you say my name, sweetheart… so goddamn beautiful, and all mine, yea?” He wants a confirmation, and wants to hear you say it, his head ducking between your breasts again to kiss, taste, suckle them. Make sure he never forgets it. 

“Wanna hear you say it.” He hums, the vibrations reverberating through your chest straight into your core, cock plowed so deep inside of you that you can barely speak through your cries, hitting that sweet spot that every other asshole misses. 

You’re too scared to give him what he wants. But you feel him, everywhere, and you still want more, of course, you’re his. That’s all you fucking wanted anyway. Plushy lips shake as you gaze up at him, his amber hues are so sticky-sweet that you still struggle to process it, words come out in a ramble “All yours, Eddie.”

His mouth crashes onto yours roughly, desire coursing through both of your bodies, almost interconnected. “Shit, fuckin’ hell sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last long.” His thrusts are getting sloppier, yet you feel the ravaging desire coursing through your veins. 

“So perfect,” he murmurs, the kiss he lays on your lips just as relentless, not letting you breathe or think for a goddamn second, you’re so goddamn close.

And you wonder, how the fuck did you even go two months without this? Without him?

“Eddie!” You cry out once you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against your clit, eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pure bliss overtakes you while you claw at his back, his body tenses, and cock flexes as he cums inside of you, groans and curses left in your hair. 

Minutes pass of you lying next to each other, breathless, processing everything that just transpired. And you should feel guilty, embarrassed, and should run to the hills for doing this with him again. 

But you’re obsessed, addicted. He’s like an excitement that you’re sure you’ve never felt before, running through your veins, like a fucking drug. 

Both of you get dressed in silence, the party booming outside is quick to bring the two of you back to reality, and out of the trance that he pulled you in. 

He breaks your bewilderment with a slight “Fuck.” Standing on the opposite side of the bed before he fully turns to you. “This wasn’t—I was supposed to talk to you.” He mutters, fingertips anxiously running through his tousled hair.

Caught off guard and awfully curious, you mumble, “About what?”

“The song…”

“I told you I liked it.”

His brow furrows deeper, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No, that’s not it—uh, did you not listen to the lyrics?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Your face searches his for some clarity, you take a step closer to him, the distance between the two of you was still awfully much according to him. “What are you asking of me, Eddie? Did you really think one song would just solve everything?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“W—what am I supposed to get Eddie? You wanna have your cake and eat it too! And I just can’t fucking do that, not anymore.”

“That’s—that’s not it!” His voice wavers, with urgency, and desperation in his tone. He takes a step forward, attempting to bridge the emotional gap, feeling so fucking frustrated that he wants to rip his hair out.

“Then fucking explain it to me!” You plead. 

“You want an explanation, fine! Fucking fine!” His frustration echoed through the room, pacing back and forth, making you take a deep breath. 

Was he… actually gonna do this? 

“You wanna know what the fuck I’ve been doing ever since you ghosted me?” He ran a hand through his hair, scared, gaze all mellow and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before. It makes your shoulders slump when you nod. 

“I go to those stupid Hollywood parties, meet asshole rockstars—the most interesting shit, yet somehow someway the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, might I add, and then I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about you the whole fucking day.” Your eyes widen, trying to absorb his revelation, yet he won’t stop rambling and you feel your chest tighten with each word, fuck, he’s finally doing it.

“I—I never—shit! I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but fuck, you came along, with that goddamn smile, throwing a manicured middle finger right in my face, a—and just put up with my bullshit.” His voice softened, and he couldn’t help but trace the contours of your face, to desperately know if you were on the same boat, and you look at him with such glistened eyes that his heart leaps to his stomach. 

“My world flipped upside down, and you have proven me, so goddamn wrong that I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore!” The tears almost welled in your eyes, because, fuck, there was no way this was real.  

You reached out instinctively, the corner of your mouth twitching uncontrollably. “E—Eddie, please… please stop saying things you don’t fucking mean.” 

“Things I don’t mean?” He gives you a breathy chuckle, ironic, and nowhere near funny. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. “Do you think I like feeling whatever the hell this is? I fucking don’t, you have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind.” Your eyes soften, the room seemingly pulsing with his emotions, making you feel hot everywhere on your body. 

He felt the same way.

Eddie felt the same way. 

“B—but fuck I’m scared, honey, I’m so goddamn scared,” He admits, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension before he’s at your side, calloused hands grabbing you by the shoulder, so softly that you melt into him.

“Because what if—what if all of this comes crashing down one day?” His voice trembles, gaze avoiding yours, he was scared, so goddamn scared of losing you. Forever. He doesn’t want that, he couldn’t afford that. 

“Just two months away from you fucking sucked. I didn’t—I don’t wanna feel these things, but you make it so hard not to.”  His forehead rests against yours, making you suck in a deep breath, it’s all so fucking sentimental, and all you wanna do this kiss him, tell him you feel the exact same way. Tell him about your fears. 

“And now I can’t fucking stop, fuck,” He confesses, admission punctuated by a frustrated sigh. 

“I wrote you a song,” he gently caresses your cheek, and you’re so scared to look up at him, to meet his tender gaze, because you know you can’t hold yourself back. 

“I came over to this party in a frenzy when I found out you’d be here,” he continued, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. “I—I just I haven’t even been able to touch another girl.” Your eyes snap open, you’re sure they’re almost heart-shaped now, with the adoration you look at him.

“And, do you actually fucking think I'd write songs for just anyone—” His question lingers in the air before you shut him up with a kiss, rough, sweet, and making Eddie feel dizzy all over, his head struggles to comprehend it all, breathless but he manages to react just in time.

The booming music becoming a mere background noise when he had you, mind swirling with all the possibilities and mouth begging to never stop tasting you. He wants to let you completely engulf him, feel you everywhere.

Everything he wanted and more.

He fucking hates himself for doing this, but he pulls away, mesmerized, eyes so wide that you can’t believe this is Eddie, he’s all flustered, salmon pink. And it makes a wider grin sit on your lips. “So… you—uh, what does this mean?”

You smile at him, lips widely stretching into a grin, as you shrug. “It means I feel the same, Eddie.” you admit, tone a tender reassurance. “That’s why I tried to shut you out… to try to move on, because I was scared—fuck, but I feel the same way.”

“So, does that mean we're dating now?”

“We can take things slow, figure everything out?” you mutter with a shy gaze, lips itching to twitch into a smile, again. “But I—uh—I like you, I really, really like you.”

“Gone soft on me already, sweetheart?” he mumbles with a stupid grin, making you elbow him softly, with an exaggerated playful huff. 

He’s quick to flinch, rubbing his arm as if you even delivered a powerful blow. “Ow—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You think I’m going soft? You’re the one who wrote his feelings as an exaggerated love song!” 

He leans further slightly, his grin widening when you gave him those adorable eyes, finding you both equally amusing and endearing. “Oh… just you wait.”

You arched a brow, curiosity piqued, “What the hell does that mean?”

“The album is coming out soon, sweetheart. If you think this was an exaggeration, you should hear the whole fucking thing.”

That glint re-appears in your eyes just as quickly, gaze softening as you melt into his embrace.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” You tease, scrunching your nose at him, so adorably that he leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your hair.

He's an idiot, a total complete fucking idiot, but he's all yours.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson

[luveline]

omg i loved the loopy wisdom teeth one w peter 😭😭 can i get that with hotch, and reader, who's usually more reserved starts flirting with him and stuff while she's loopy

ty!! and ty for ur request ♡ fem, 1.2k

"Most people have their wisdom teeth out in their teens," Aaron had said before you went in, a Spencer Reid tidbit if there ever were one. 

"I'm a special case," you'd said, accepting his kiss on the cheek but denying his half hug. "See you in a bit." 

People often lament that Aaron's ended up with a  woman so much like himself. You must make each other miserable, one ill-advised chancellor had said, to your amusement. 

We're desperately unhappy, you'd said back. 

The opposite is true. You and Aaron, or Aaron alone, at the very least, is as happy as he's ever been. Work is hard but manageable, Jack is well-tempered, growing smarter and kinder each day, and you're his sweetheart. You're reserved, a little solemn, but you understand him better than anyone ever has. It's a relief like no other to be known so well. 

And so he has zero qualms looking after you for the rest of your lives. He waits patiently for you to come out of surgery, arms behind his head in the empty waiting room. He's worried about you. This isn't a painless procedure. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway, but you announce yourself anyways in the doorway. "Handsome!" you say, a lisp to your happy sing-song, "I'm back." 

Aaron doesn't know what to say. He giggles like a kid at your sudden demeanour and sits up properly. "Honey." 

You wobble with the nurse at your back, prompting him onto his feet to take over. "You should remove the gauze in about half an hour when the bleeding has completely stopped. Clean daily with saline, there are instructions in the bag," the nurse says, offering Aaron a white prescription bag. "Okay?" 

"That's perfect. Thank you so much," he says, taking your hand. 

"You're perfect," you say, looking up at Aaron with stars in your eyes. 

The nurse laughs softly as she leaves. Aaron doesn't bother hiding his amusement, grinning at you as he puts his hand between your shoulders to guide you to the front of the building. 

It's busier here. Reception is hectic. Aaron puts his arm more firmly around you to stop people from bumping into you and you again look at him with your starry eyed gaze. "You're very tall," you say. 

"I am," he says. "Though you joke occasionally that I'm shrinking." 

"The only thing getting smaller is your waist," you say, poking at his abdomen, "my champion." 

You're referring to his recent third triathlon success. He's no record setter, but it keeps him active and happy in the summer months, and he can't pretend you don't appreciate the additional definition of his muscle during this time. You like him every month of the year, of course, but with his trim waist comes a certain amount of energy you also appreciate. 

"Completely inappropriate behaviour," he says lightly, waving a short goodbye to the receptionists as he holds open the door for you to pass by. "Next you'll be enacting PDA." 

"You'd like that, huh?" 

Hard to take any notice of you with gauze fluffing your words, and again, he laughs at you. "I'd love that." 

"Well, wait, I'll do it right here–" 

Aaron catches your hands mildly. "In the car first. Kiss after." Your downtrodden expression requires urgent care. "What, that's not okay? You're upset?" 

"No," you lie obviously, glaring down at your feet as you wobble forward. 

"Maybe we can wait until later, then." 

"What?" You gawp. "You just said in the car." 

"I'm teasing you," he says, taking your elbow. "We've been known to do that with one another on occasion. You know I'd happily kiss you anywhere you wanted to be kissed, honey, now watch your step on this curb. Watch your step. Good job." 

You're extremely pleased by his praise, leaning into his arm with your head tipped back. "You're so handsome. Can you kiss me now?" You soften your eyes. 

Alright, you have a little bit of bloody dribble on your bottom lip, and yes, there's this dazed look about you like you've had a mean shock, but you never look at him like this day to day. Perhaps in your more intimate moments, your arms around him when the lights are low, or early, early in the morning when you haven't yet remembered your more timid temperament. But it's so rare. It catches him off guard, how pretty and wanting you look. 

Aaron leans down for a careful kiss, the barest of pressure. 

"And a good kisser," you murmur, turning into his chest for a hug. "I love you, I want you to carry me to the car." 

"Sweetheart, I don't think I can," he says. He's mostly kidding in the depth of his apology, but there are real threads of remorse in his voice, hot as a flame. "Come on. We'll go home, okay?" 

"But you always do everything for me. Everything I ask for." You talk into his chest, likely leaving pink spit on the grey of his quarter zip. He couldn't care less, his arm around you, looking down with equal measures of fondness and surprise. "I had to stop saying I liked things because you kept buying me stuff. I love stuff." 

"Then why did you stop?" he asks quietly. 

"'Cos I know I don't deserve it. Don't deserve you, Aaron, you're the best man I've ever met. Can't believe it."

He savours your mumbling, and begins to walk forward slowly, encouraging you out of his chest as he formulates an answer for your confession with the same gravity. "You can't believe it?" 

"You're a tall glass of water." 

He actually sighs aloud. My girl, he thinks, rubbing your lax shoulder. "Alright. What if I thought the same of you? What then?" 

You giggle infectiously, a stickying sound like you know he's trying to trip you up. "Nice," you say. "We should always be like this." 

When he brings it up later, the extreme effects of your anaesthesia dissipated and your pain revamped, you can't think of anything worse. "I'm mortified," you whisper, your ice pack chilling the top of his arm where you've wedged it, your hand tucked between his thighs in an attempt to stay warm. 

"I quite liked it." 

"You would. You used to flirt with me so aggressively–" 

"Aggressively," he repeats, grinning. 

"–you're lucky I survived it." You sniffle, rubbing your nose into his sleeve. "Was I as intimidating as you are?" 

He presses his lips to the top of your head, not kissing, just there. "No," he says into your skin, "you weren't intimidating at all. Just lovely. It made my day." 

"I'll have to have my teeth taken out more often." 

He snorts. "If you'd rather have more teeth pulled than flirt with me unaided, things are worse than I thought." 

"Don't be like that..." Much quieter, "Will you rub my back again, please?"

Just like that, he's reminded of how much he likes your regular reserved attitude. "Sure, honey. Lean forward."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

[yanderenightmare]

TW: NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, light bondage, alcohol, misogyny/chauvinism

fem reader

You didn't know such a normal guy could turn out to be so insane. 

But thinking about it, you realized his actions had always seemed a bit too timed. As though he’d practiced – the awkward smile, the sorry laugh, the small apologies, even the blush, and those giddy puppy eyes – creating the perfect disarming cute goof you’d never possibly find threatening even in the slightest despite him being a tank of a man.

He'd been so sweet – so boyfriendly and kind. 

His behavior was just disturbing now. Acting normal with you – ignoring how he’d tied your wrists up too tight...

The room was dim – moody, with the movie playing loud in front. He had his heavy arm resting around your shoulders with your body placed snugly into his side – uncomfortably so. He’d duct-taped your mouth shut a while ago after he’d grown tired of your crying – having stuffed one of his socks in there first.

He gripped a sixth or seventh beercan in his other hand, the one not currently squeezing your upper arm – letting it rest on the dungaree of his thigh, making a dark blue ring where the dewdrops had slid down.

Something happened in the movie you were too tense and panicked to watch, but either way, whatever it was, it seemed to make him lose interest – scoffing out a gruff “Puh-” before raising his beer to his lips, chugging the rest of it down before slamming it to the ground.

“This movie is fucking boring-”

You flinched and would probably have screamed too if you could – all your nerves making you feel sick, close to giving out at the sound of the crash. Your eyes peeled with terror and tears, watching the empty can slowly roll around to a stop on the wooden floors.

He groaned, using his free hand to grab his groin – giving it a tug and shake, manspreading a little wider than what he was already.

Then, he lazily flipped the tail of his belt out of the loops, popping the buckle with a clatter of metals.

You wanted to whine or will yourself to move, but you knew it would only end in more bruises – so instead, all you dared do was breathe a little faster through your nose.

The hand kept at your arm brushed past your shoulder to cup your head, messaging your scalp in big fingers – with such pressure, it made your entire head bobble on your neck. The other hand undid his button and unzipped his fly – then moved to hook the rope tying your wrists together, pulling them to the bulge for you to finish the job.

You didn't refuse, wishing to keep him calm – so you dipped past the band of his boxers with shaking hands, put trembling fingers around his thickened shaft, and gently pulled him out.

He gave a rusty sigh, releasing a damp and sour breath of beer that clouded your head.

Grimacing at the stench, you nearly made the mistake of coughing as your fingers enveloped his fat erection in both hands – intertwined with each other neatly down along his shaft.

He jerked his hip, prompting you to start – stroking up slowly and down again, rubbing over forked veins plump with blood, making him stiffen harder in your grip – soon so hard it stood on its own in your hands, pilling with precum getting caught on your digits.

He pulled your head to his chest and rested his chin upon your cheek – watching your small hands work his cock – your skin so smooth and good compared to his, caressing him so tenderly in such a sweet and loving way.

You listened to his heart hammer on your ear, pressed tight against the tough muscles of his torso with his prickly chin stubble digging into the soft side of your face. The whole position was awkward, but you kept your hands going – rubbing him like you knew he liked until his hands gripped your arm and pulled you off, planting both paws on your hips as he lifted you onto his lap – your thighs spread to straddle him.

He'd been keeping you in just a silk babydoll – one he could easily lift for his pleasure. Gruff fingers rubbed the glassy texture of it before slipping beneath the light thing – gliding up your thighs to hold you by the fat of your ass.

He pulled you forward – tight – close enough for him to lick your collar and bite onto the strap on your shoulder – pulling it aside for him to suck your sweet little nipple into his mouth.

Your nails pressed smiles into your palms, looking down at him suckling new blotches into your sensitive skin as he rolled your nip between his teeth teasingly with a lusty growl – his hand making moves beneath the skirt of your nightie, grabbing his shaft and pushing it immaturely against your unprepped pussylips – forcing a kiss to your taut entrance before further driving himself inside you.

You couldn’t help the sounds now – whining out a pained moan into your gag as you doubled over against his chest, soon sobbing on his shoulder as he nudged himself nice and deep against your womb – fitting snuggly in your tight-knit walls.

He paid your wails no mind. Squeezing the soft flesh of your butt in his hand, with the other coming to join the action once more – digging his fingers into the supple flesh and making you rock back and forth on his lap – feeling as though he was ripping your hole apart.

“It’ feel better if you just got wet like you used to-” He said casually – fucking your dry cunt like he did your dry palms earlier. You don’t think it bothers him at all as long as it’s tight.

But soon, the slick started to form anyway, like it always did whether you wanted it or not – a protective maneuver your body conditions itself with to make the assault feel somewhat less miserable.

“There you go- now you’ll feel good, so stop your crying.” He cooed, raising a hand from beneath the tent of your dress, wrapping it in the hair at the back of your skull, forming a fistful of it – pulling you from his chest to lash your neck full of new lovebites.

He started making you hop now instead of riding – aiding you by the hand lifting your ass and the other pulling your hair. He jerked his own hips to meet you, slamming your poor cervix like a punching bag – he knows that’s how he makes your pussy cry boohoo, soaking his cock with pleasant warmth. 

A moan springs from your throat each time it runs you through – feeling it kick you in the stomach each time you slapped down on his lap – and soon you gushed in spite of it, abruptly halting your tempo before squirting violently – quaking in spasms, tits doing spins with him buried up to the hilt.

“That’s it- that’s my little whore-” He purred with a rumble in his chest, humming at the feel of your tight cunt fluttering from orgasm as you leaked sweet pussyjuice on his jeans. “Now, that’ll never get boring.”

He unraveled the fist in your hair and began petting your back, letting you slump back against his chest as he kept doing slow lifts with his hips to squeeze into you despite being swallowed down to the base – leaving your cunt now would just be a waste of a nice throttle.

“Since your mouth’s in a timeout, I think this pussy’s the winner of today’s load- fuck knows you deserve it after that.” He continued in a strained voice – the length of his cock desperately curling to make space for its whole length, stretching your gummy walls until they stung from the workout, making you buck your hips in revolt.

But he only took it as an eager approval of his comment. Leaving his prints on your ass with how hard he clawed his hand into it while his other arm hugged you tightly to his chest – keeping you seated and himself bottomed out as his cock sprung within in you, busting out thick hot ropes of cum deep inside the comfort of your tight cunt.

He held you there long enough to make the ache of it mellow out into a numb tickle – feeling just the warmth as he finally slumped out.

Face dewy, still with a taped x marking your lips. The pain had made you nearly chew right through the sock stuffed in your mouth, but now you just sucked on it – jaw lax from exhaustion where your head felt heavy, resting on his shoulder. 

He panted for a few minutes, sweaty hands rubbing circles into your equally slippery skin until announcing, “It’s almost dinnertime, huh?”

Your eyes kept blinking softly, feeling the slow trickle of cum leave your cunt along with wetness of your own, seeping out onto the softening cock keeping warm between your thighs.

You barely even jolt when his hand comes down on your ass in one of his kinder slaps.

“How ‘bout we untie those hands again so you can shimmy this little ass into the kitchen, hm? I’m starving.”

BNHA – Kirishima, Hawks, Bakugou, Natsuo, Dabi, Mirio, FatGum

JJK – Naoya

HQ – Ukai, Daichi, Iwaizumi, Matsukawa

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut #yandere demon slayer #yandere aot #yandere bllk #yandere blue lock #yandere attack on titan #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia

[teatoptony]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 - p.j

summary; using your percy as a pillow.

pairing; percy jackson x demigod!reader

word count; 2.1k

warning(s); none, just fluff

a/n; sorry this took so long!! english isn’t my first language, so there might be a couple errors. it’s short, but hope you don’t mind, anon :) // takes place nowhere within canon in particular, but claiming happens really quickly

request(s); Hii! This is my first time requesting something EVER for anybody so that’s fun. Could you write prompt 6/ "You took all the pillows so i’m using you as one." Where Percy has all the pillows and reader decides to lay on his chest. Or the other way around, which ever is easier to write! Ty ty

Percy Jackson was the only demigod son of Poseidon. Therefore, he was the only occupant of Cabin Three at Camp Half-Blood.

However, if someone were to ask any of the campers, they would say that there were actually two people who lived in Cabin Three. One of those two people being, of course, Percy, and the other being you.

You and Percy were that couple in camp. You know that one couple that’s always hugging, holding hands, or touching each other in any way, shape, or form? Yeah, the two of you were that. He always had an arm around you, or held your hand in his. Sometimes, he snuck up and hugged you from behind while you were having a conversation or doing some other thing that required you to stand still in the same spot, often causing him to get an earful for surprising you or making the person you were talking with uncomfortable enough to leave.

Percy’s touchy demeanor only got worse when he was sleepy. While most decent boyfriends would offer to walk their girlfriends back to her place, Percy always dragged you away from the campfire singalong and straight into his cabin.

You were sure Chiron knew about this – after all, your boyfriend never really tried to sneak you off, and your half-siblings definitely knew you weren’t in your own bunk at night – but if he did, he tried his best to pretend that he didn’t. Whenever Percy got up from his seat at the campfire with you in tow, the centaur seemed to take a sudden interest in his hooves, or the grass, or his marshmallow that was already toasted to perfection in the fire.

And if Mr. D knew, he didn’t let on. He never really stuck around for the singalong after dinner, so you weren’t really sure if he ever saw the two of you. But he’s the camp director—he had to know something was up. You supposed the punishment for sleeping in another cabin involved too much paperwork to carry out. Either that, or the Mr. D simply knew that Percy would drag you to his cabin no matter the amount of times he had to wash the Camp’s dinner plates.

Percy was a big fan of cuddling. It helped him sleep—like actually sleep, without any dreams to bother him throughout the night. He joked that you were like his personal dose of melatonin, though he’d never taken any before, going so far as to gift you an ‘assorted berries’ flavored lip balm.

“Like the gummies,” he had explained, attacking your lips once you’d applied the makeup. You haven’t yet found the heart to tell him that taking melatonin could actually cause very vivid, extremely wild dreams.

You’d let him live his fantasy, for now.

Luckily for Percy, you were also a big cuddler, especially with him. While you weren't as open with PDA – Percy did more than enough of that for you both to get yourselves through the day – you rarely let go of your boyfriend when the two of you were alone, which he was extremely happy about.

The two of you always faced each other, laying on your sides. You would run your fingers through his hair, and he would hug you close while the two of you got so tangled up that you didn’t know which limbs were whose, bringing a much needed sense of domesticity to your hectic lives. In those moments, time seemed to stop, and the two of you were the only people in the world.

The only problem with these cuddle sessions was, Percy was a huge blanket hog.

Like, really huge.

When Percy started to drift off, it was like he'd been possessed by a pillows-and-blankets goblin or something. He rolled around on the bed, and when you're conscious enough to move over in order to avoid being completely flattened underneath him, he took the opportunity to take up all of your previous space, along with your pillow and around ninety-eight percent of the sheets.

You'd tried and failed numerous times to keep this from happening: tucking yourselves in extra tight, tiring him out as much as you could, all the things people on the internet claimed would keep someone from tossing and turning. Nothing had worked, hence, the oh-so-familiar predicament you constantly found yourself in. Again. And again. And again.

///

Today was another typical day. The only difference? It felt like about a week’s worth of work had been crammed into it.

At the crack of dawn, one of the protector satyrs brought three new campers to the hill. And, as luck would have it, it was your turn to show any new arrivals around. The three new half-bloods – all of them around ten or eleven years old – came to Percy’s cabin, led by one of your half-siblings. Four kids bursting through the door when the sun hadn’t even come up yet was not the best way to wake up.

After a quick change and a hasty kiss goodbye, you gave the newbies the full tour, from the lava climbing wall to the arts and crafts center to the canoeing lake. You were sure they were sweet kids most of the time, but in your sleepy and quite frankly grumpy state, all their chattering gave you a migraine. And that’s not even including all their Mythomagic questions.

“Does Athena really have two thousand attack points?”

“Can Eros really Charm his enemies with Love Shots?”

“Does Apollo really use volleyballs for his Ultimate?”

You wished you could’ve learned a couple basic things from Nico before he quit the game.

Once you got the three of them settled comfortably in their cabins, it was already too late for breakfast. Percy would have grabbed you something, but, being counselors, the both of you had classes to teach and errands to run that kept you apart. After a few hastily scribbled cabin inspections, you dropped them off at the Big House before heading off to teach Ancient Greek.

Your Ancient Greek lessons hadn’t gone that bad. A few kids’ dyslexia was acting up today, but you really couldn’t expect any less every other day. After the usual alphabet refresher for newer kids, you had the campers read a few Greek legends out loud, and the class was dismissed without a hitch.

Unfortunately, that was one of the very few times things went smoothly today.

Your second class was riding lessons. Two relatively new campers managed to offend one of the pegasi and ended up in the infirmary with a few nasty bruises—great, add that report to your stack of paperwork. And cleaning up afterwards was always the worst part. The pegasi liked you, really, but they couldn’t help that they couldn’t groom themselves, especially their wings. As for the pegasus that charged those two kids, you had to put him in the time-out cubicle to calm him down.

The thing about pegasi is, they prefer to roam around, and definitely do not appreciate being put in the time-out cubicle. You were glad you didn’t speak horse like Percy, because – judging by the amount of angry horse noises – you were pretty sure the pegasus thoroughly cussed you out.

Next task: canoeing with the naiads.

A few of the naiads claimed a canoe for themselves, and the kids each broke off into separate teams to take turns racing with the nymphs. A couple Hephaestus kids, determined to win for once, had designed a detachable motor to rig to their canoe—the naiads didn’t seem to mind, so you let them be. It exploded about halfway across the lake. No one got hurt, thankfully, but the canoe was no longer usable. You put the kids who’d built the motor on kitchen duty with the harpies for the rest of the week.

Lunchtime came around, but you were too busy to eat properly, grabbing a single piece of pizza before running off to prep a small section of the woods for a wilderness survival class one of the satyrs were supposed to teach. Apparently, he had fallen asleep and forgotten to prepare everything himself the night before, and you agreed to help him just to stop him from running around you in circles. Getting your feet stomped on by panicked goat hooves? Not so fun.

A couple more mildly disastrous activities and a small pile of reports later, it was time for your favorite routine—dinner, campfire, Cabin Three, and lots of cuddles à la Percy.

At the Dining Pavilion, you practically inhaled your food, as it was the first time you’d had a chance to get a full meal all day. After the void in your stomach had been taken care of, you dragged Percy to the campfire, where you claimed the best seat for roasting marshmallows. As usual, your boyfriend refused to sing a single note.

“Come on, just this one time?” You pleaded. The whole camp was singing The Campfire Song – the unofficial anthem of Camp Half-Blood – a song that the gods surprisingly didn’t take offense to. Singing complaints about your godly parentage was apparently received as a lighthearted joke. Judging by the unusually bright golden color of the flames, you were fairly certain Apollo even enjoyed it.

“You’re the only one here with Poseidon as a dad. We’re dying for you to rhyme something—you should see Cabin Seven, there’s this one part of the wall covered with post-it notes with bets on what you’ll sing. I saw a lyric comparing your dad to Marlin from Finding Nemo, once.” You said. Katie Gardner sang about how she’d gotten a fern in a mason jar for her sixteenth birthday. “I think there’s one for Nico, too, but that’s mostly just Will.”

“If I tried to sing, I’d probably cause an avalanche.” Percy laughed, and kissed you when you tried to say something else. He did that to shut you up sometimes. It was infuriating for sure, but you had to admit it was pretty damn effective.

“One day, Sharkboy,” you promised, giving him a determined grin before leaning in to kiss him again. A few of your siblings whooped in the background, for Katie or to tease you, you didn't know.

“Mm, we’ll see,” your boyfriend muttered, pulling you closer as Travis and Connor Stoll took up the mic.

A few more verses and a couple other songs later, you were back in Percy’s warm bed in Cabin Three. The air had that salty taste like the beach on a cool summer’s night, and the underwater plants and corals that Tyson had brought back from Poseidon’s palace took on a luminescent glow under the moonlight. Percy’s Minotaur horn glinted silver on the wall.

You were completely worn out from the day. Sure, it wasn’t as bad as going on a killer quest, but you were allowed to complain about and tire out from mundane things, too. Percy had to practically carry you from the campfire because you were already half asleep.

But as soon as Percy started to drift off – and therefore started to move towards you, and assemble his blanket burrito – your eyes flew open and you propped yourself up on the bed, effectively disentangling yourself from him. You heard him stir as he felt your warmth disappear.

“Y/N..” Percy whined, his voice gravelly with sleep, as he tried to grab you by the waist to pull you back to him. You swatted his hand away, and he begrudgingly opened his eyes. “What’re you doing?”

“Improvising.” You huffed. There was no way you were going to deal with ‘Percy the Pillow Pillager’ problems tonight. As much as you loved him, you were tired of practically hanging off the edge of the bed.

Putting your hands on one side of Percy’s premature blanket burrito, you rolled him back to his previous spot, making him lie on his back. You then disassembled the sheets to make some room for yourself underneath them. Percy happily let you cuddle into him again. But this time, you quite literally lay on top of him, draping your arm, leg and most of your torso over him and putting your head on his chest.

“You took all the pillows, so I’m using you as one,” you stated. “Stay. Put.” You poked him to emphasize each word and felt his chest rumble as he laughed.

“I will,” he promised.

“Mhm.”

You were skeptical, but you felt too warm and comfortable to care much. If you got tossed off the bed in the middle of the night, that was a future-you problem.

You felt Percy kiss the top of your head as you drifted into sleep.

#percy jackson #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson books #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x y/n #percy x reader #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson fic #pjo x reader #pjo stuff #pjo fanfic

[lnfours]

lando again :))))) fixing tie zipping the back of their dress for them because they can't reach it.

i know landos brother has a wedding and maybe they are going to and they do that prompt on the top and when they are at the wedding lando sees her fit in with his family so well and knows she the one

yes yes yes.

send a prompt

“hey, babe! can you come here for a second?”

your voice traveled down the hallway and you could hear the sound of lando’s dress shoes making their way down the wooden floor. he walked into the bathroom, damn near stopping in his tracks when he saw you standing in your dress.

“what’s up?” he swallowed, trying not to focus on how good the color looked on you, how it complimented your eyes and your skin tone.

“can you do this zipper for me? i can’t reach,” you softly laughed, turning your back to him. he hummed, reaching out to the zipper with slightly shaky hands. you moved your hair to the side, scared of it getting caught as he pulled the zipper up.

when it was zipped, he moved his hands and wrapped them around your waist, standing with you in the mirror as you both looked back at your reflections. you fixed your hair and made sure your makeup was perfect before you met his eyes.

“what?” you asked with a smile.

he didn’t realize he had been staring at you, “you look so beautiful.”

you turned around, facing him and reaching down to fix his tie, “you do too.”

he laughed softly, intently studying your face as you worked on tying the tie. once you had succeeded, you tucked it back into place, running a hand over it.

“let’s get married,” lando’s mouth poured out what his brain had said, but he didn’t care.

you laughed softly, “when? right now?”

he smiled, “whenever you want. you say it and it’s done, i’ll go buy a ring.”

you shook your head and wrapped your arms around his neck, “i thought you wanted to wait?”

his snaked around your waist again, “im a changed man now.”

you giggled and rolled your eyes playfully, “okay so, a little secret wedding where no one knows we’re married, only we do?”

he threw is head back, a smile still on his face, “perfect.”

#lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #mail time #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #🍾; jordan’s 10k celebration

[lovebugism]

hi angel! I have a little fictober request … can I pls get holding hands for the first time from the prompt list with steve harrington and shy!reader? maybe they’re in a busy place and steve doesn’t want to lose r so he grabs her hand, not realising how ridiculously flustered she gets <3333

ty for requesting angel :D this can be read as a part two to this fic!

summary: steve takes you to a mall in the city in a desperate attempt to spend time with you, fending off freaks, douchebags, and your anxious tendencies alike (shy!reader, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers cw for mentions of anxiety, 3.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Steve idles between the X-rated horror and thriller sections for several long minutes until he works up the courage to talk to you. You’re a pretty little thing behind the counter, hand in your palm as you scribble into the journal Keith threatened to confiscate from you earlier that morning.

He’s never been this nervous to talk to you. Things are different now. Post-first date, and Steve’s still toeing that wretched line between friends and something more. The puppy love is so painfully mutual, but it’s equally hard to navigate. He can’t come on too strong — not with someone as soft as you — but he’s still got some King Steve left in him. He’s still learning how to be gentle.

With sweaty hands, he walks up to the counter and tries to be subtle about the whole thing. Stealthy, like a ninja. He leans on his folded-up arms and blurts before he means to, “So you’re, like, totally coming tomorrow, right?”

You lift your chin and blink at him with wide eyes. You hadn’t heard him come over, too busy doodling a bunch of nothingness in your notebook. Your stomach whirls at the sight of him. It takes you a moment too long to answer.

“Coming… where?”

“To the mall,” he reminds, then corrects himself with a shrug. “The one in the city— not the shithole we have here.”

“Oh. Uh, I don’t— I don’t know,” you stammer. Steve invited you earlier that week, and you promised to think about it. You did. And you want so desperately to go, but your brain’s too mean, and it just won’t let you.

The disappointment that flashes on his face is fleeting, but you don’t miss it. The hurt softens his features in an unbearable way. It makes your chest ache.

“C’mon,” Steve presses in a gentle lilt. He leans closer to you, eyes twinkling and lips curling. “It could be fun, you know? I mean, everyone’s gonna be there.”

He’s trying his best to persuade you. He has no idea that that’s exactly what’s keeping you from going. Crowds are always stress-inducing, even those of the familiar kind.

“Everyone as in…?”

“Robin, obviously. Dustin, too,” Steve answers, counting on his fingers as he goes. “Max is coming, but Lucas has a basketball thing, so he can’t. And the rest of the little shits are in California, so that’s definitely a plus.”

It’s a dumb joke, but it makes you laugh anyway — a quiet giggle of a thing that makes him grin.

“Uh… Eddie’s coming, too, I think— but don’t let that dissuade you, alright? I promise I’ll protect you from that freak. You don’t have to worry about him.”

You smile because you know he’s joking. You’ve met Eddie a couple times now. He’s always been really sweet to you. Him and Steve just have a strange complex that forces them to be assholes to each other.

“And also, I’m gonna be there. Obviously. So…” he trails off with a wavering smile. So if you don’t wanna come for them, maybe you can come for me, is what he’s really trying to tell you.

“I don’t know,” you repeat, quieter now as you shrink into yourself. You try and fail to meet Steve’s honeyed gaze. “I just feel like I’ll make everything all weird.”

His bushy brows pinch, almost in offense that you’d think you’re anything less than totally perfect. “Why would you think that?”

“‘Cause… I don’t know,” you murmur in a quiet sigh. You don’t want to lie to him, but telling the truth feels so much harder. “They don’t really know me, you know? And I feel like… like I’ll just ruin everything if I’m there…”

It takes Steve a couple of seconds to answer you. He doesn’t know how you could say something that — like you don’t light up every room you’re in. “Well, that’s… that’s just not true,” he argues with a shrug. “They like you. They love you, actually— they just wanna get to know you. And the only way they’re gonna get to know you is if you come hang out every once in a while.”

Your heart flutters. You want to believe him. It’s hard for you to comprehend that anyone could care so much about your presence, so you just nod and don’t say anything further. 

Steve is quick to comfort you, almost like he can read your mind. “But if you think it’s gonna be too much, you could always just stick with me. I’ll fend off the freaks for you, no problem.”

His cinnamon eyes glimmer with honey. He looks at you far too fondly to say no.

—————

There’s six of you crammed into Steve’s 733i. It’s already a tight fit, but it’s more suffocating when it’s full of a million different conversations. Almost all of them are pointed your way. Steve tries to bat everyone off of you, but it’s hard to yell at everyone and drive at the same time.

You’re being a pretty good sport about it despite how anxiously helpless you feel. 

You wring your clammy hands in your lap and try to regulate your bated breaths, nodding to whatever Max is telling you. It’s hard to hear her because Eddie’s talking to you, too. You’re too scared he’ll think you’re mean if you stop him.

You watch Robin reach for the radio, complaining about all the yelling as she turns up the volume. The cheesy pop song is all you can hear. The conversations around you become a monotone buzzing. You feel like you could just about explode.

“Jesus, you guys are acting like you’ve never seen another person before,” Steve shouts over it all, the only definite thing you can understand. “Let her breathe before she thinks we’re all a bunch of lunatics, alright?”

He’s met with a bunch of muffled complaints, but the noise quietens nonetheless.

Steve glances at you in the rearview, a quick check to make sure you’re still okay. You catch him doing it and try your best to give him a smile. It looks more like a wince.

“Well, it’s your fault for finally bringing someone cool around,” Max argues with all her practiced teenaged ambiguity. “I have to spend all day surrounded by freaks— at least now there’s someone halfway normal to talk to.”

“I’m normal!” Steve insists, face twisted in offense.

“You’re a jock.”

“Hey. C’mon, Red,” Eddie scolds, so obviously playful. “Let’s not go throwing the j-word around—”

The brunette boy huffs. “Thank you!”

“—Jock would imply that Steve’s still cool,” the wild-haired boy continues. “Which he isn’t.”

Poorly hidden laughter fills the small car. Steve nods and mutters beneath it all, “Yeah. Okay. Thanks for the clarification, Munson.”

He glances at you again and finds you cracking a halfway sincere smile. He shoots you a light-hearted glare. “Don’t laugh! You’re just encouraging him!”

“Sorry,” you apologize, hiding your giggle behind your fist. “’M sorry.”

Steve smiles at you, silently tells you he doesn’t really mean it. He’d let Musnon make fun of him all day if he thought it meant he’d get to hear you laugh like that again.

—————

You take your first good breath in an hour when you step out of the car. 

Steve shuts it off and gravitates towards you on instinct. His honey eyes are wide as they dart across your flustered features. You see his hands reach towards you, to grab your elbows maybe, but he decides against it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, quicker than you mean to. “I’m good.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I really tried to—”

“I know,” you cut him off with a sweet, still quiet smile. “It’s still okay.”

He sighs heavy, like a deep breath of relief. “Okay. Good,” he hums, almost to himself, nodding with a pink grin you could stare at all day. He would’ve let you, but neither of you get the chance. 

Your friends start messing around, and the chaos melts into the buzzing crowd surrounding you, and you realize the two of you aren’t the only people on earth. Bummer.

You gather around the large map at the entrance of the bustling mall. “Where should we go first?” Dustin chirps from the front of the crowd. His eyes are as wide as his smile. “Game Player? Sam Goody? Oh, look— they have a RadioShack! I’ve been looking for a new supercomm. It’s on the other side of the  building, though, but we can just work our way around, I guess—”

“Jesus, Dusty-Bun,” Robin interjects with a gritty laugh. She stands on the outside of the group, arms crossed over her chest, effortlessly too cool for it all. “Take a breath, buddy.”

“Don’t call me that!” the boy gripes over his right shoulder.

Steve shrugs. “Go wherever you want to. I don’t care.”

Dustin looks to his left, shooting the older boy a glare. “Aren’t you supposed to be the babysitter?”

“You’re fourteen!”

“Well, what if I get kidnapped?”

“No one’s kidnapping you, alright? Trust me,” Steve jokes, only smiling when he sees you trying to hide yours. He puts his hands on his waist and cocks his hip to the side. “They’ll send you right back where you came from. You have nothing to worry about.”

Dustin squints. “Rude.”

“We’ll just meet back at the food court in, like, two hours. And if you don’t get yourself killed, you’ll be fine,” Steve reasons with a nonchalant shrug and a jutted-out lip.

“Oh. Wow. Thanks, Steve. What would I ever do without you?”

He rolls his cinnamon eyes at the boy’s monotone. “Alright, smartass.”

When the rest of the group dissipates, he leans over to nudge your shoulder. It knocks you from your stupor — so deep in your own head you were practically drowning. You blink at him with wide, glassy eyes. “Hm?”

“Do you wanna go anywhere?” he asks with a wavering smile. His laugh is equally forced. “You’re kinda staring a hole into the map there…”

“Oh. No. I was just…” you trail off with a shake of your head. You’re not entirely sure what to tell him, how to make him understand your easily overstimulated mind. “I was just distracted. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. No big deal.”

“Where did everyone else go?” you wonder with a furrow to your brow, noticing the lack of familiar chaos around you.

“Eddie and Dustin went to some movie store, and I think Robin and Max are on the hunt for cassettes.”

“Okay...” you nod with a tremble in your voice. 

You’re still not totally used to being alone with Steve. Your friends are usually good distractions. They fill your awkward silences with something funnier and talk loud when you get too quiet. When they’re not around it’s just… awkward silences and quiet air. 

You get too in your own head, so eager to impress the pretty boy beside you, that you end up putting your foot in your mouth.

Steve doesn’t seem nearly as apprehensive. Instead, he’s beaming at the fact that he’s finally got you alone. He doesn’t have to worry about quieting Dustin when he gets too loud or shoving Eddie away when he forgets what personal space is. It’s quieter with just the two of you — warmer, cozier, easier.

“Wanna go down to the food court?” he wonders, honey eyes sparkling when he looks your way. “I know you haven’t eaten anything yet, so…”

Your eyes narrow, accusing and playful. “How would you know that?”

“Uh, ‘cause I know you,” the boy scoffs like it’s obvious. “I basically have to force you to eat every morning.”

“That’s not true!”

“It so is!” Steve giggles and it’s heaven to your ears, the exact sound of honey. “That’s why I hate not opening with you. ‘Cause if I’m not around to force you to eat the other half of my Poptart, I’m just, like, worrying if you’re withering away or not.”

Your face burns hot. Your heart swells with a similar warmth that borders on painful. You didn’t think he cared so much about you — or that he ever thought about you outside of work or the occasional hangout.

“Fine,” you concede with your arms crossed over your chest, trying not to seem as flustered as you feel. “Let’s go to the food court.”

Steve grins. He follows you in stride when you start to head that way. “Cool. We can go get one of those disgustingly good burgers or something.”

“For breakfast?” you wonder with a light-hearted laugh.

“Yeah! Like, one of those crazy huge ones, you know? The patties are, like, the size of your fist— make a fist.”

You do. You ball your fingers and hold them up between you. Steve holds onto your wrist for further inspection, fingers long and warm and soft. You swallow.

“Bigger than your fist,” he corrects with a laugh. The sweet sound is drowned out by the swell of yelling teenagers. They talk so loudly and over one another that their conversations become a meaningless drones.

Two in particular shove at one another, laughing loud like it’s fun. One of them almost barrels into you — long blonde hair, tight shirt, tighter jeans, and cologne so potent it stings your nose. He just narrowly misses you, mostly because Steve’s there to yank you out of the way.

The boy’s gentle grip on you tightens. He pulls you close until you’re stumbling into his side. With a strong arm wrapped around you, he shouts at the roughhousing teens — “Watch where you’re going, assholes!”

The scrawny boys walk on ahead of you. They seem apologetic, halfway scared at first. When they realize Steve’s not rushing to beat their asses, they chuckle about the whole thing and keep punching each other.

You’re still frozen in shock — not so much of fear anymore, but of how tightly Steve’s holding onto you. It’s an embrace of the firmer kind, a touch so solid you feel immediately safer inside it. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close before. The teenage girl in your heart starts to spin.

“You okay?” Steve asks when the anger ebbs.

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing tightly and forcing an awkward laugh. “You don’t have to keep asking me that, you know?”

He nods rapidly, then notices how close he’s holding you. Fearful that he’s made you uncomfortable, he uncurls his arm from around you and takes a small step back. “No, I know! I just wanna— I just wanna make sure, you know? ‘Cause I know you don’t like… all this.”

He waves his hands vaguely out beside him.

You’re immediately cold without him holding you. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate for the lack of him. 

“Yeah, but… It’s not the rest of the world’s fault that I’m scared of everything,” you say with another forced laugh, shifting your weight on your feet. If you could melt into your oversized sweater, you would. “It’s mine. So I can deal with it. I have to deal with it.”

Steve nods, slower this time and with a silent sense of understanding. He steps closer to you and shrugs. “I think the least I can do is make it a little easier on you… And I feel like I’ve been doing the exact opposite of that all day.”

“That’s not true,” you argue with the shake of your head.

His chocolate eyes widen. You’re rarely so assertive. “No?”

“No,” you answer, softer this time as you grow sheepish all over again. Your unsure gaze darts from your dirty sneakers to his twinkling eyes until it makes you dizzy. “You’re actually making it more bearable for me, so…”

“Oh. Okay. Good,” he nods with a smile, breathless because his chest is swelling with pride. He knows the world can be a little much for someone as soft as you. It’s good to know that he’s the exception to all that. 

He gets lost in the way you look at him for a moment too long. He clears his throat and stammers, “Uh, do you still wanna go get food?” he asks, pointing off beside him. “We can find somewhere quiet to eat so we don’t have to deal with teenage douchebags the entire time.”

Your heart lurches into your throat. It’s practically your love language — spending time alone in a quiet space, with no overt need for conversation or people to fill the void. 

You nod, trying and failing to hide the beam on your face. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

—————

The quiet place in question is a photo booth on the halfway vacant, furthest end of the mall. Closed curtains, small spaces, and entwined breaths. It smells like his deep cologne, your perfume, and a freshly cooked meal. It’s too easy to forget that there’s a whole world outside of here.

You sit twisted on the bench, facing Steve with your burger trays in front of you. You pluck salty fries from the plate with a trembling hand, distantly fearful that you’re not supposed to be eating here. You think being so close to Steve is worth the risk.

“Is this the day you were expecting to have?” Steve asks with a lopsided grin. He takes a big bite of his burger right after and gets mustard on the corner of his mouth.

“No,” you answer, giggling as he swipes the stain away with his tongue. “But not because it’s bad.”

“Hm?” he hums to egg you on. He’s got too much of a mouthful for anything else.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, equally nonverbal as you chew on a handful of fry crumbs. You swipe your palms together to dispel the grains of salt. “I’m having more fun than I thought I would, actually.”

Steve scoffs in disbelief. “Spending time with me? Alone in a photo booth? That’s a good time to you?”

His tone makes you self-conscious. You feel a little shameful, like a child, because you don’t need much to be entertained. You get all warm with embarrassment, too. Being alone with Steve has always felt like climbing mountains — something short of an adrenaline rush that makes you think you could conquer the world. Maybe you’re too small in comparison to do the same for him.

“Yeah,” you shrug in an inaudible murmur. “I don’t know— I just… I like spending time with you, you know? I don’t really care what we’re doing.”

Steve’s chest swells. From a girl who too often keeps to herself, inherently nervous and incessantly frightened of being a burden, it’s more of a proclamation of love than he ever thought he’d get from you.

“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he confesses with a crooked pink grin, internally praying his cheeks aren’t as red hot as they feel.

He holds his half-eaten burger out towards you. You knock yours with his, clinking them together like champagne glasses. He takes another too big bite. You go to do the same but get a whiff of the sleeve of your sweater before you can. 

“God, I smell like a teenage boy,” you groan, only half-playful. The nose-burning musk from the kid from before has seemingly stuck itself onto you. Like fruit and sage and wood and vanilla, every scent ever made combined.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you definitely smell like bodyspray,” Steve affirms, scruffy cheeks jutted out from the burger in his mouth.

“I think I’ve been tainted,” you giggle, a quieter sound compared to his boyish laughter. “Thanks for saving me, by the way.”

You’re saying it to be nice, but you watch him get all shy about it when you take a bite of your sandwich. He shifts on the bench, like he suddenly can’t get comfortable. When he rubs his palms on his thighs, you can’t tell if it’s because of the salty fries or because they’re clammy.

“Yeah— I didn’t mean to— I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” he stammers with an apologetic twinkle in his eye and a gaze that can’t quite meet yours. “Just so you know. I was just trying to—”

“Save me?” you interject.

Steve smiles when he sees how softly you’re looking at him. He shrugs. “Well, I was gonna say ‘pull you from the line of fire,’ but sure.”

“It’s okay,” you repeat for perhaps the thousandth time that day. “I didn’t mind. It felt nice, actually— you have really warm hands.”

“That’s ‘cause yours are always ice cold.”

“Well, maybe that’s because you’re not holding them,” you blurt before you mean to. 

You freeze mid-bite, eyes wide in distant horror as your blood runs cold. In a desperate attempt to break away from the awkwardness you caused, you muster a trembling smile. “I’m kidding,” you murmur, halfway hidden behind your burger.

You weren’t.

Steve knows this, too, so he smiles. 

He’d been thinking about it all day, in truth — how he was gonna get to hold your hand without having to stick his foot in his mouth to ask you. Turns out, a series of unfortunate events and an impromptu date in a photo booth was all it took. And he’s grateful. For all of it.

“No, you weren’t,” he teases, fingers as warm as his smile when he wraps them around yours. He holds gently onto your hand — even though it makes eating a little harder, even though your fingers are cold, even though you tremble.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: fictober!

[fanaticsnail]

Shameless: 2/3

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here

Word Count: 6,901

(Image Source)

Synopsis: Your shamelessness has gotten you in trouble with your captain, Trafalgar Law. When he sent you to your workshop, the last thing you expected was to welcome the foreign captain into your personal space. Bonding over tinkering, you learn more about a man who you reciprocates your shameless flirtations.

Notes: And just like that, part 2 is done! Sorry for the wait, but had to ensure language was perfect. First time writing for Kid split into two parts - 12,195 words (what is wrong with me).

Themes: NSFW language, flirtatious conversation, grinding against a wall, kissing, biting, licking, mentions of missing limbs, mentions of scars, shamelessness, Kid likes you, soft moments, mostly flirting, heart-pirate!reader x captain!kid, afab!reader but can be read as gn.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun

Song suggestion: What it is - Doechii

“Gah,” you scolded yourself, kicking the leg of your workbench, “I-... I am an idiot. Why am I like this?” you clapped your hands over your eyes, dragging your skin down beneath your fingertips to hide your embarrassment. You had finally found a man who was everything you were looking for, depicting your attraction to him by flirting hard with him in front of your crew. Perhaps you had come on too strong. Perhaps he found your words too vulgar, too provocative in nature to depict your incessant need for him. 

You picked up your wrench and began tightening several bolts and screws attached to your latest project, ensuring everything was ready to be examined by your captain. The heat of the office became too much for you, prompting you to unzip your boiler suit and remove your arms from the sleeves, tying them around your waist to secure them in place. Grasping your heavy, woven gloves, you tightened the straps around your forearms and scoffed at your idiocy further. 

“I can see why Law wanted to hide me away,” you uttered, picking up your arc welding torch and face shield, “I am an embarrassment to him and my crew.” You flicked on your speaker, melodies and harmonies roaring to life at high volume. You sighed, flicking down your mask and igniting the tip of your tool to begin welding metals together.

The music and sparking metal disguised the opening and closing of your workshop door, the looming figure of Eustass Kid’s shadowy approach ignited its silhouette and hid it from your masked view. You muttered beneath your mask as you whipped the tool away from your project, smothering the flame while twirling the wrench in your non-dominant hand. 

As the melody swelled, you sang along to the lyrics and augmented your voice while tightening your newly molded bolt to ensure it was secured in place. You raised your mask over your head, plonking it down while gathering your augmented goggles to ensure your work was appropriately executed. Without turning your focus from your project, you reached behind you and began tapping your desk with splayed fingertips to search for your hammer and wire brush. 

Kid watched as you expertly twirled the tools between your four covered fingers while throwing your brush in a juggling flourish to your non-dominant hand. He was left standing dumbstruck in awe at every flex of your bare back muscles, every expert touch, every hyper-focussed gaze and how your diaphragm belted the melody in perfect time and tonality. He had every intention of taking Law up on the offer of watching you work, while he used the time to taunt you with the fact he knew he could do your job better. 

As he found himself watching the rhythm you set for yourself with your expertise and precision, he was left feeling a foreign swell within his chest once again. You had been shamelessly flirting with him earlier, in such a way that initially startled and enraged him. He couldn’t believe you would risk insulting him in front of your own captain, let alone the danger that came with his own pirate crew. 

He continued to watch you work with your hands to create a masterpiece of mechanical art, both dangerous and violent in nature - his attention was captured completely. You were focussed, your hands tearing through metal and sifting through bolts with practiced precision. His eyes were truly held hostage, shamelessly raking over your body and unable to rip themselves away. You were perfect.

Would you look as focussed on him as he rammed his cock in your mouth? Or perhaps your brows would elevate and lips curl in bliss while he harshly snaps his hips against yours to chase your mutual ecstasy. Would your words only get more filthy the more he fucks you? Or would they turn into mewling gasps and keening groans as he demonstrated just how many settings his mechanical arm had. At that thought, he glanced down to his metallic limb, his index finger and thumb clenching together as he thought on it further.

Did you find his severed limb repulsive? You made no complaint while his prosthetic hand was circling your neck and caging you beneath it. In fact, you looked eager to receive such a violent touch from him. Your lust was depicted all over your face, never once breaking your eyes from seeking his own. You could have anyone you want, looking the way you do. Why him? Did you want him, or were you simply using him to satiate your own unbridled curiosity?

He was so caught up in his own unhinged and perverse thoughts, he never noticed you turning around and silently gasping in shock. You become immediately lost in the fact the man you were just fantasizing about was standing in your personal workshop, distracted by his metal arm by his side. You cautiously placed your tools down on your workbench, removing the heavy gloves from your hands, and leant your hips back against your desk. You hooked your ankles, crossing your arms over your chest and allowed yourself the luxury of examining him further.

The music continued to blast over the speakers, the song switching to the next with a slow fade and swell into its crescendoed beginning. Kid slowly drew his eyes away from his arm, startling himself by meeting with your eyes baring directly into his own. You flicked off the music with your index finger before relacing your arms within each other once again. You both fell into an awkward silence, neither of you truly knowing what to say to one another.

“Here to watch the show,” you broke the silence with the flirtatious hum of your voice, “Or to make good on your threat of a good time?” 

Kid continued to be held in perplexed silence, allowing you to study his body a little further. ‘Captain Kid,’ you repeated in your mind. This man was a skilled captain, one your own captain deemed worthy enough to form an alliance with. You would love to get to know him further, but all thoughts swirling within your mind were as filthy as back bog water. 

“They mutually exclusive?” his smirk quirked at the corner, his vibrant lip paint decorating his lips with a partially glossy sheen, “And what happened to you calling me ‘Sir’?”

“You’re in my space,” you shrugged, pouting your lips and elevating your brows, “If anything, you should be calling me ‘Sir’ in here.” 

“Ooh,” he taunted with a harsh and low growl, “Cocky in your workshop, are you?” he taunted you, his tone dripping with feigned fear. His smile only grew further up his face at your agitation rising on your features, “Apologies, Sir. Didn’t mean to interrupt your concentration, Sir.” 

You scoffed, unlacing your hands and allowing Kid to get a proper look at your exposed flesh. His breath hitched, catching completely within his throat as he allowed the swell within his chest to grow deeper. Your brow arched up, allowing yourself the same luxury of ogling his body with your eyes while gripping the counter behind you.

“Gonna stop spurting filth at me, then?” Kid whispered before he could stop the words from leaving his lip, “Or are you as provocative with every Nakama meeting with your crew?” You rolled his questions over your mind.

“I’ll grant you a partial ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to both questions,” you shrugged, hands still clutching the bench behind you for support, “I am known for my vulgarity, but I do have the ability to behave when asked nicely.” Kid hummed in response, choosing to not engage with the conversation further than that. His heavy boots wove past you, his focus now switching to your project behind you. 

“Wanna tell me ‘bout this?” he tapped the larger, steel barrel of the base of your project. You rotated your neck, feeling a click relieve itself within the rotation.

“It’s Project Battle-Surge,” you hummed, turning and walking away from your workbench, “Been at it for a little while now, and I’ve almost got him ready.”

“Him?” he furrowed his brows, sparing a small glance your way, noticing your focus was on his metal harm hanging limply by his left side, “Alright, Sunshine. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You snapped your eyes up to meet with his, watching as he bobbed his chin to shift your focus back onto his mechanical arm. 

“You’ll tell me about how it was made? Show me how it works?” You asked him, your eyes widening and smile elevating to showcase your wonderment. He chuckled at your tone, his own eyes darting over to your own mechanical project longingly.

“Show you?” he scoffed, glancing over to the project behind you, “Baby, if that thing is what I think it is: I’ll take the damn thing off for you and let you have a turn.” 

“There you go again; threatening me with a good time,” you cooed flirtatiously at him, testing his boundaries by brushing your fingertips along the flesh of his right arm from his elbow to his fingers. You removed your hand from his, placing it on your project, “I’m willing to talk to you about him. He’s forged for war: hopefully going to function as both a sentinel tool, and a suit of wearable armor. Just trying to come up with a name for him that’s not just ‘Total BS’.”

Kid’s roar of laughter ricocheted around the room, pumping your chest with the fluttering wings of butterflies and a flush to rise to swell your cheeks. After he stifled his cackle, he shook his head and cradled his head in the flesh of his palm.

“No, no. That’s perfect. ‘Total BS’,” he reached up to his shoulders, removing his weighty jacket and placing it on your workbench. His bare skin was exposed to you, the trail of scars running from his face down his neck, to his absent arm, down his chest and stomach holding you hostage, “I love it, truly. A perfect name for a perfect creation. Definitely deserves a little bit of knowledge about my arm.” He maneuvered his mechanical arm, flexing the wired muscles within and he began removing the straps holding it in place. 

“Didn’t expect to be doin’ this today. Don’t normally enjoy takin’ the damn thing off and on again,” his brow focussed, teeth clenching as he sucked in a strained breath while removing the prosthetic limb from his stumped flesh, “But I think you’ll get a kick outta it.”

For each spurt of ‘Total BS’ from you, Kid would reflect knowledge about his mechanical arm. As you powered your mechanical man on, Kid showcased how to use his arm; how he tended to it and kept it in top condition. 

As the minutes turned into hours, your buzzed rapport continued to get more and more excitable. You felt both on edge and at ease beside him, both as passionate about this particular interest as the other was. Your brilliant and enthusiastic smiles were reflected within one anothers, both allowing the giddiness to rise within you and prolong discussion about your mechanical wonders. 

All of the questions were ‘the right ones’, all of the excitement was founded in ‘the right places’. You both felt drawn into each other, leaning into each other's warmth; your bare flesh brushing with his as if you’d known him for a lifetime. As you sat with Kid’s dismembered prosthetic in your lap, fawning over the intricate designs and pieces; he was just as enamored by the large suit of armor you had skillfully created.

He snuck a few hidden and weighted glances at you, heart swelling with longing. He craved how you’d feel beneath his hand, how you’d taste on his tongue beneath his painted lips. He felt his body draw itself closer to yours in each passing moment, as a magnet collided and stuck against a metallic force. He wanted you so desperately, he could barely contain his incessant need for you. 

You stood, bending over to lift the heavy arm and place it down on your workbench - Kid’s eyes shamelessly following the plump curvature of your covered ass as you stooped. The material of your boiler suit dipped seductively with every step, Kid’s dangerous swelling growl beginning to click and crackle in his chest the longer he stared at you. You hummed thoughtfully, finally completely understanding the concept of his arm, picking up a polishing cloth and shining lacquer. 

“It looks like you haven’t taken it apart and re-welded the underbolts for a little while,” you added with a frown while poking at the bolt with your prongs, “Did you want me to take them off, clean it up a little bit,” you waved the towel, flicking it out to ensure it was clean and sanitary, “I could solder it back together for you when I’m done, if you want.” 

Kid was startled, his loud voice no longer gracing the air with its presence. Being met with his silence, you turned around to face him, cocking your head to the side as you studied his face. His expression was not easy for you to read, vacant with a small aura of violent aggression rising in his eyes. Reading it as cause for offense from one tinkerer to another, you quickly straightened your stance, holding your hands out and frantically waving them in front of you. 

“No, no, no! I didn’t mean to offend you” you attempted to suck back in your words, desperately craving to build your rapport with this tinkerer-captain you had grown to admire, “I just figured, since you’re in my workshop, I’d offer my body to be put to good use for you.” At that comment, you mentally slapped yourself for your unintentional double-meaning.  

He straightened his spine, swooping forwards and lumbering his hulking form over your smaller body, caging you beneath his powerful aura. You squeaked out a small, shocked peep when he grasped your left arm within his right palm, thumb, and large fingers. Stooping forward, he forced his forehead to forge against your own and pushed your body backwards until your bare flesh met with the cool of the metal wall. 

“You want me to put your body to good use?” he hissed out a low growl through clenched teeth, “You got it, Sunshine.” 

Without a further word, Kid surged his face forwards and claimed your parted lips with his own. There was no subtlety, no timidness, and absolutely no hesitation to be found against his lips. His body burned with violent passion and intensity, brows furrowing and sucking in a harsh inhale of sharpened breath through his pointed nose. 

His teeth bit and bruised your bottom lip, tongue pushing past your lips and dominating yours without restraint. He raked his tongue sloppily against your own, sliding it throughout every inch of your parted lips you exposed to him. You responded to his unrestrained passion by hooking your arms around his thick neck, weaving your fingers in his red hair. 

Stapling your hips with his own, you felt deliciously hopeless and caged between his body and the metallic surface of the Polar Tang’s steel walls. You tilted your head up, allowing him to claim all of you he wanted to with his lips, body, and desperately grasping hand. Angling his stumped arm against the wall, he dragged his fingers harshly down your bicep and halted at your hips. He aggressively circled his arm behind your waist and violently clamped his fingers and thumb over the bone of your hip and hoisted you effortlessly within the air.

You parted your legs and hooked them over his hips, your feet joining at the ankles to anchor your body against his. He growled against your lips, nipping harshly at the corner of your mouth and jaw; before leaving a fluttering trail of crimson lip-paint and pinching bruises down your neck to your rapidly beating pulse. You gasped as he clamped his lips, teeth and tongue over your flesh - whimpering as a particularly harsh bite found purchase against your neck, prompting your eyes to flutter shut. 

Crying out your desperate longing for him had a rumbling chuckle vibrating against your neck. Every action he surged against you had your craving for more of his unwithheld brutality, both satisfied in receiving his touch and longing for more he could give to you. He rolled his hips against your own, feeling the growing hardness produced beneath his leathery pants. 

Your thoughts became more filthy the longer you focussed on what more he was hiding away from you, prompting you to grind your covered body against his own in response. Kid groaned, rutting into your body further by pressing you into the wall to inhibit your ability to do anything other than take what he was giving to you. Opening your eyes, you glanced down at his face as he began to nip and suck at your collar bone. 

The scars reflected silver within the darkening hum of false, electrical light. His eyes were closed and brow deep in concentration as he focussed on marking you with his mouth. You followed the trail of his scar down his neck to his shoulder, mapping your way down to his absent left arm. Every part of him was beautiful to you, the lightning marks of heavy violence depicted on his flesh showcasing how much he endured in his past - and how strong he was to overcome it. 

Sensing your shift in focus, Kid halted his marking and looked up into your eyes, noticing their fixation being solely on his missing limb. He sucked in a deep, angry breath through his grimacing teeth and his brow slunk lower in agitation.

“You that bothered by a missin’ arm, Sunshine?” he growled through clenched teeth, your eyes immediately snapping over to meet with his own, “And here I thought you liked me.” Your pupils were blown with lust, lips parted and panting and cheeks flushed with a rising warm heat. 

Without hesitation, you slowly revealed your tongue to him and used the pointed tip to lick a long stripe up his scarred flesh. Refusing to tear your eyes away from his, you swirl your tongue against his skin and map the scar with your mouth in open and passionate kisses. Once making your way up his bicep and neck, you pressed a chaste and playful kiss against his scarred cheek quickly with a smile.

“Not at all disturbed,” you chirped happily with a flutter of your half-hooded eyelashes, “I like you,” you angled your head, brushing the tip of your nose with his own, “And I am prepared to show you how much I admire every inch of you you’re willing to share with me.” Eustass Kid gulped a dry swallow of air in an attempt to return the saliva to his mouth. 

“F-Fuck,” Kid gasped, awestruck by your promiscuity and provocation alongside your cheerful disposition. You giggled at him, pressing another hasty kiss against his scarred cheek, trailing a flutter of your lips over his injured eye and back down his face again to the corner of his lips. 

“If we start this,” he began, gaining your attention back on him, “You’ll tell me to stop if you can’t handle it, won’t ya?” he whispered against your lips, anchoring his hips against yours to pin you in place while retracting his hand from your waist to caress your cheek. He bore his intense auburn eyes into yours, angrily growling, “Answer me.”

Your eyes widened, lips falling apart in shock. Pulling your face away from his, you unwove your fingers from his hair and secured them against his shoulders, leaning your face and nuzzling it into his calloused palm. 

“Yes, Sir,” you whispered against his palm, pressing a gentle kiss against the warm center of his hand, “But understand this,” you cautioned him, eyes turning serious as you met with his own, “There’s a lot I can take before I’d ever dream of telling you to stop.”

Eustass Kid groaned at your words, hunching forward to sink his teeth once more against your clavicle. He knit his fingers against the base of your hair, tugging it back to expose more of your flesh while rutting his hips against yours. You mewled for him, taking each violent act of unbridled passion as it came from the hulking figure between your thighs. Each cruel bite, lick, suck and kiss burnt heavenly against your skin; pumping your blood to elevate your pulse with every ministration from Kid. 

As he licked a dangerous and intentional stripe along the crevice of your cleavage, tracing the curvature of your breasts with the tip of his tongue; the speakers roared to life with Trafalgar Law’s bored voice depicting orders through the powered system.

“All crews and captains return to the top deck. We’ve docked, mealtime set and are waiting. Come and get it.” 

Both you and Kid groaned in frustrated unison, feeling as pent up in lust as one another. You hooked your arms over his shoulders, pulling him desperately closer to your body while pressing heated kisses against his temple and hairline. He panted, enjoying each moment he spent within your arms and between your legs.

Whether he was ready to admit it or not, Eustass Kid had not experienced such a willing and enthusiastic lover to welcome him between their parted thighs in such a long time. The way your chest heaved with panted breath, your lips hungrily seeking out more of his skin, while your fingernails raked down his exposed flesh had his breath hitching and blood rushing to every crevice of his body. He was reveling in each moment you granted him - every worshipful touch, and every kiss you peppered him with. 

He could not comprehend how someone so intelligent, someone so skilled with their craft, clung to him with such lustful passion. If given enough time, he could truly see himself partnered with such a person as you. A fellow tinkerer; a person as nasty as he was with vulgar language and promiscuous expression. 

“We gotta stop, Sunshine,” Kid growled into your jawline, pressing his lips to vibrate against your jugular, “C’mon, your captain’s given’ ya orders.” 

“And here you were offering me an out, Sir,” you gasped, tracing his cheek with your parted lips and playfully nipping at his cheek with your teeth, “Do you want to stop?”  

He groaned again in frustration at your words, eyes rolling back in his skull while he attempted to harbor his restraint. He pressed a dangerous roll of his hips against your own, testing both his and your willingness to part from one another. As you mewled a cry of his name, he truly realized he was the one that needed to break off this encounter with you, in favor of maintaining his Nakama with the two crews. 

“Are you that shameless you’ll make me be the one to call off this little tryst to bring you to dinner?” He growled, tugging on your hair to withdraw your lips from their lustful attack on his painted skin. 

“Yes,” you gasped out, grinding your hips down onto his hardening cock beneath his tight pants. He groaned both in frustration at your admission, alongside the fact he truly did not want to part from his place between your legs to attend something as boring as a formal dinner. 

“Fucking hell, Sunshine,” he cursed at you, biting at the flesh of your neck while grinding his hips up into yours, “At this rate, I’d take you to dinner just to fuck you on the dining table in front of everyone.”

“Please,” your begging tone cried for him. His eyes widened in shock, tearing his face away from your skin to glare at you. He was perplexed, unsure if you were truly begging for him here and now, or if you wanted him to claim you in front of the three crews engaging together. 

“Are you that shameless? You’d let me claim you in public like that?” he groaned into you, his grimace splitting his face in a puzzled expression.

“Honey,” you spoke, your voice cutting through the air like a guillotine with its precise clarity, “I’d likely tell Bepo to run first, but my crew already knows how much of a freak I am,” you surged forward, a playful nip pressed against the tip of his nose, “It’s your crew I’d worry about. Also, the Straw-Hats,” you confessed, pressing a trail of kisses against his temple, cheek and corner of his lips, “But I have demonstrated my incessant shamelessness to them in the past.”

Eustass Kid saw red. He, immediately, felt a surge of need to understand exactly what you had showcased to the Straw-Hat crew prior. If it was the flirty chef, that was fine by him - that blond flirts with everything that moves. He had even witnessed him flirt with a feminine-shaped tree in encounters past. If it was the green-haired swordsman who felt your touch, experienced your lips against his own - that was something else entirely. 

“Who,” his gruff growl through clenched teeth hissed at you. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling the ignition in dangerous passion within the taut flex of his muscular shoulders. After taking a moment to collect your swirling thoughts, too wrapped in the feeling of Kid’s scorched flesh pressing against your own, you uttered your answer to him.

“Roronoa Zoro,” you gasped, soothing your fingertips against his shoulders and holding him firmly against yourself. You felt the swell of jealousy form within Kid’s biceps, trapping you beneath them by caging you further against the wall. He thrust his body forwards, his lips colliding with the sensitive flesh of your shoulder and clamping his teeth down in a punishing brutality. 

“It was only one time,” You cried out, pain melding into pleasure at his rough bite. 

“And I’ll make you forget all about the one time when it’s my cock splitting you open,” he growled against your neck, his tongue darting out to soothe over the vicious mark he claimed against your skin, “You’ll likely forget how to walk, too. Gonna need to be carried everywhere.”

“You offering?” you managed to gasp, feeling Kid’s lips travel higher up your neck to trace the trail of lip paint and bruises back up to meet with your lips. As he continued to bruise you with his passionate and violent kisses, the powered system roared to life with another dictation from your captain.

“Once again: All crew and captains are required above deck for meal time. Final warning.”

Kid’s rumbled growl vibrated your skin beneath his lips, his hips pinning you completely against the wall once more as he argued with himself whether he truly desired tearing himself away from you in this moment, or claim you completely within his arms. Should he not conclude the pleasantries with the two crews, would it truly mean the end of an alliance between the three ships?

“Dinner first,” his voice reverberated its rumble against your flesh, “fucking after.” You whined at his promising confession, squeezing his hips between the firm grip of your thighs. 

“Promises, promises,” you gasped your irritation, as you allowed him to shepherd your feet to the ground with his right arm. He groaned his own annoyance into your cheek, kneading the flesh of your waist once more within his palms.

He looked down at your body. He admired the art he had created on your flesh: marks of his trailing lip paint emphasizing every bite and kiss he had bruised against your skin. As his eyes met with yours once more, he witnessed the depiction of his future within their rotund irises. He found you incredibly beautiful, every aspect of you flawless in make. 

“By my side for dinner?” his brow cocked up at his request, his fingertips locating his heavy coat alongside his prosthetic limb. As he equipped himself with both objects, you adjusted your uniform over your shoulders and zipped up your boiler uniform.

“Your side?” you asked him, turning to face him. Your fingertips found his collar, adjusting the fabric against his throat, “You think you could pry me off your lap to simply sit beside you?” 

Although remaining stoic externally, Eustass Kid was enthusiastically screaming internally. He couldn’t believe your willingness to be by his side: A Heart-Pirate crewman showcasing their lust for a foreign pirate captain they had only just met. Although only spending a few hours together, Kid never wanted to part from you. He was already formulating bribes he could pay Law with to buy your loyalty away from him. 

As your eyes once again met with his, he realized there was truly nothing he could find, buy, or create to pry you from your crew. You were theirs, but he wanted you so desperately to be his. 

You drew your thumb up to his lips, soothing over the smeared paint in an attempt to fix its smudge to rejoin his lips instead of spilling over his lips. You bit your lip and furrowed your brow in concentration while joining your other hand on his face to fix his skin and hair. He chuckled at your fruitless attempt, raising his right hand to brush over your cheek in an almost loving gesture - pulling you from your concentration. 

“Don’t fuss so much,” he purred down at you, raking his index finger from your high cheek bone to the corner of your lips, “Let ‘em know.” As you were about to reciprocate your desire for him back into his face, Law’s frustrated growl cut over the speakers once more to alert you of further instruction.

“Can the tinkerer of the Heart-Pirates and the captain of the Kid-Pirates return above deck for the evening meal now.”

Both you and Kid laughed while hastily adjusting your uniform back over your shoulders, his clothes and his mechanical arm to fix once more on his own bodies. As you approached the door, you were momentarily held in perplexed shock at the extension of Kid’s right hand reaching out to collect your left within. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, desperately seeking out one more moment of your touch against his flesh. 

You smiled down at the floor, bashfully smoothing the fingers of your left hand within Kid’s right and allowing him to lead you above deck. You both hoped this meal would be as brief as it could for you to find yourselves clutching at each other’s flesh once more. 

As you approached the upper deck, you witnessed the amount of effort thrust into the air at the rambunctious dining experience provided for you. Rows of collaborative seats and dining settings were ornately decorated, shined silverware Law hid away for special occasions were set perfectly in front of each of the crewmen awaiting your presence. You sheepishly met your eyes with your captain’s, the swell of disappointed disdain present within the yellowed irises.

Apprehensively, Kid released your hand from his, he marched over to find his place amongst his own crew and the two other captains, leaving you to to fall in line with your own crewmen. Although words of spoken intentions requesting you by his side for dinner, as soon as your eyes met with the amber hue of Trafalgar Law’s abrasive agitation, you decided immediately against it. 

Sitting between Shachi and Ikkaku, opposite from Bepo and Penguin, you felt their eyes burning into your marked flesh. You chose not to speak, keeping your eyes fixed on your captain as he elevated his tankard - relaying a long winded toast to the three crews meeting. You elected to not engage with the gestures attempting to wave you away from your concentration from Ikkaku, Shachi and Penguin. You were the picture of innocence and obedience, refusing to tear your eyes away from your captain as he continued on with his speech.

Law’s eyes met with yours, briefly trailing down your face, neck and torso to follow the bites and lip-paint from the foreign captain plastered vibrantly against your skin. You smiled up at him, the picture of angelic and sinless appearance as he stuttered over his final words of the speech.

“May our three crews find balance and harmony over these upcoming weeks,” he concluded, elevating his tankard and prompting the crews to do the same, “Now let’s eat.” 

“Yes to food!” Luffy cried in glee, enthusiastically piling an assortment of meat onto his tray at the final utterance of Law’s speech. You refused to meet your crewman’s eyes, turning to Bepo and asking him to pass you the pressed, buttery, herbed potatoes; as if it was the most natural and normal thing in the world. 

After you all began gathering elements of your meal on the plate in front of you, you felt multiple eyes fixed on your body from all sides: your crewmates with their questions pushing against the walls of their lips threatening to break through like water through a dam wall. Zoro, with a wide smirk showcased on his lips and eyes narrowed in on the marks, also held unspoken commentary he desired to tease you with. Your Captain’s brimming intensity fuelling the ignition of rage beneath his features prompted your silence to remain exactly that. Silence. 

Whereas Eustass Kid, sitting beside his loyal first-mate and the other two captains, sought out your eyes to ask unspoken questions he craved the answers for. The one at the forefront of his mind was: “Do you wish to continue?”

In lieu of providing an exchange of words or gestures to those around you, you coyly flicked at your plate with the silvery fork; humming along to the melody formerly blaring from your workshop speakers. Seeking out a slice of the pressed potato in your fork, you slid it onto your fork before wrapping your lips over the crisped edges. 

You continued to hum while eating your meal, shoulders dancing in a subtle shake in approval while you chewed your food. Aside from your upbeat humming, you consumed your meal in silence while your closest friends attempted to seek out your attention with their eyes - pleading to be privy of the happenings occurring behind closed doors. 

“You’re really not going to say anything? Not even a denial of ‘nothing happened’, or a small ‘It was good’ if something did?” Ikkaku whined at you, leaning forward on the heel of her palm and pouting her lips into her skin, “After all that, nothing?” You sighed, placing down your utensils on the table and seeking out your napkin to clean your face.

“Nothing happened,” you shrugged with your lips pursing. You took a moment's pause, allowing a delightful shudder of the memory of what occurred a few moments prior. You picked up your fork and placed your utensil within your lips before removing it with a quick ‘pop’, uttering, “ And it was good,” you sarcastically reflected back to Ikkaku. She scoffed, toying with her own plate of food with her lips curling up at the corner.

“You climb him like a tree?” Shachi grunted out, mid-bite of a roasted carrot. You giggled out a string of quiet laughter while shaking your head.

“Didn’t get the chance to,” you shrugged after finishing with your laughter, “Can you pass the meat?” Penguin elevated the tray of meat, your fingers brushing against one another as he passed the tray to you. 

“Gagged, choked, and flogged?” Penguin attempted to disguise his question with a gruff cough, hiding his blush from view with the shadow of his cap. Your lips cracked into a large grin, again shaking your head at the question. 

“Thank you, Penguin,” you uttered, taking the tray and placing a few pieces of meat on your plate, “And I wish.” You passed the tray on to Bepo, who hungrily piled several pieces onto his plate before passing the empty plate onto the bench behind him. 

“Then what did you do?” Ikkaku asked, her elevated voice woven with exasperation. Zoro’s attention never left your body, only pausing to raise his sake bottle to his lips as he read your lips of every confession. 

“We talked shop,” you shrugged, your fingers grasping the tongs within the plate of fried broccolini, fishing out several pieces of the wilted vegetable and placed it on your plate, “He’s an incredibly skilled craftsman, and it was a delight to hear him speak about his passions while sharing mine.”

“Bet that’s not all he shared of yours,” Ikkaku muttered under her breath, raising her fork to her lips with a knowing smirk, “Your neck looks like an animals been at it.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed with a whimsical longing falling from your lips, swooning at the amount of marks Eustass Kid had littered your body with his passionately violent embrace. Your crewmen burst into an uproar of contagious laughter, prompting Zoro and Nami to follow suit once your hushed conversation was relayed to one another. 

After you all conclude with your meals, the conversations float to the next time you all get to sing, dance and drink with one another, before you witness Eustass Kid rising to his feet. The chef of the Straw-Hat crew had only just begun serving dessert for the three Nakama crews, but this did little to halt the departure of the captain of the Punk-Rock from his place at the table. 

Without meeting your eyes with his, you rose to your feet and placed your silverware atop your emptied dining plate and dusted off your thighs while straightening your uniform. You turned to where Trafalgar Law was sitting on the table, giving him a low bow: wordlessly questioning whether it would be permitted to be excused. Elevating your eyes while rising from your stoop, Law’s blushing cheeks and gritted teeth shook alongside his head with a curt, and swift, nod in affirmation. You took a moment to stifle the rising squeal of joy in your chest, before turning to address your ‘brothers in arms.’

“Goodnight, crew,” you turned to wink at Ikkaku before adding, “Talk to you in the morning, if I manage to find a leg to stand on.” 

As you walked over to the archway of the Polar Tang, you halted and waited for the heavy bootsteps falling behind your own. At the jangle of metal belt-chains, the weighted thump of shoes and the subtle purred growl of the captain of the Victoria Punk stalking behind you, your shoulders shuddered in anticipation. You felt the subtle pull from his metallic left arm caging your waist within its iron grip, pulling you to face him against his torso, while simultaneously leading you back to your workshop below decks. 

Both of you were buzzing with giddy lust simmering within your chests, swelling with the rise of passionate desperation for one another. You giggled, reaching down to touch the cool metal claiming your waist within its circular grasp.

“Are you that keen on me that you couldn’t finish your dessert, Sir?” you quirked your head to the side, noticing Eustass Kid’s predatory grin penetrating your flesh beneath its searing intensity. 

“Why would I eat something artificially sweet when I can eat you?” he purred, his head waving to the side as he leant down into your ear, licking the outer shell, before uttering, “Gotta see how loud I can make you scream while I trap your pretty cunt against my face.” He lovingly reached his right hand down to claim your left, elevating it to his lips and gently brushing his painted lips over your knuckles, “You think your neck is the only place I’d be keen on licking, biting and kissing?”

Where Kid expected to be greeted with a squeak at his vulgarity, he was met with a similar amount of crass speech. Your eyes innocently triangulated between his own, fluttering down to meet with his lips before focussing back on his auburn irises.  

“You think I’d happily sit still on your face?” you sung your intentions to him with a musical tone, “Not while I’ve got a whole throbbing and hard cock in need of my attention below your pants,” you fluttered your eyes down to his belt before slowly raking your eyes up his chest to find residency on his face. 

Gauging his reaction, you continued uttering your vulgarity sweetly up at him, brushing your fingers over his jawline and trailing them down his exposed chest. Your eyes followed your fingers, gleefully swooning at the elevation of puckered flesh shuddering to life beneath your gentle touch. 

“The real question is: should I take your belt off with my fingers, or would you prefer I use my teeth, Sir?” you halted your touch, your eyes snapping back up to gaze longingly into Eustass Kid’s auburn eyes.

“T-The fuck did you just say?” Kid breathily gasped into your ear, truly being perplexed with his ill-preparation for reciprocal vulgarity. 

“You heard, Sir,” you teased him in return, lips pulled into a sultry smirk while reaching your index finger up to trace his angular jawline, “Fingers or teeth?” After taking a moment to straighten himself, Kid leant down to your face, gazing at you through half-hooded eyes and growling his response.

“Teeth.”

#one piece #x reader #op eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #op eustass kid #heart pirates #kid pirates #straw hat pirates #zoro #nami #eustass kid x reader #shachi and penguin #trafalgar law