#pure cotton is ok though

[glitter-epoch]

Hiii, always love to see people obsessing over love and deepspace (bc I'm addicted too), can I please request zayne fic about his hands and fingers? Can be suggestive, can be pure smut, up to you lol, ok thanks byee

HIII yes i can!!! i can't believe my first request is a zayne's hands request this feels like a gift. thank you for requesting i hope you like!!!

[ there’s a part 2 now :) ] ☄. *. ⋆ gn! reader | 2.8k words | suggestive, not smut | zayne gives reader stitches but it's deliberately not described in detail/no mentions of needles/blood

“my lunch break ends in fifteen minutes,” zayne had said, staring past your head in thought. “it would be a waste of time to check you in.” 

you stood there in the bustling lobby of akso hospital, one paper-towel-bound hand pressed to the sliced skin over your hipbone, and waited. surely he wasn’t telling you to just leave. you were only friends, so it’s not like he had an obligation to you; but he was your primary care doctor, and...

and. there was, is, an and. you’re not sure what exactly to call it, and zayne is so adonis-like you’re embarrassed to even suggest he might like you.  

“i’m sorry,” you said in earnest, a little surprised by his usual coldness that you’d arrogantly assumed would thaw upon seeing your injury. “i didn’t mean for you to drop everything for me. i should have gone to an urgent care, or something, i just thought since you’re here...” 

zayne looked down from the spot over your head, clearly removed from his pensive mood. his intention to argue with you was clear, but he held his tongue stonily until you finished your rambling. 

“no,” he replied. “you should never go to another doctor. i was just thinking.” 

you blushed like an idiot. “ever?” you mocked. 

“mm,” he murmured, back to thinking again. he brought his forearm to circle the small of your back, not touching, and motioned you forward. “come with me.” 

and now, here you are: sitting on the grey sofa in front of the wall-length window, early afternoon light bleeding white all over zayne’s office. for a few moments, he’s left you alone to gather materials, and you relish in what feels like a small victory. 

i’ve been personally invited to the office.  

not like it’s the first time, though.  

zayne returns with a small kit swallowed by the size of his pale hands; the sleeves of his button-down pinned up to his elbows. you shift, balancing your weight unnaturally on one leg. His eyes snag on you as he grabs his glasses from his desk (far taller than the tabletop, he must lean down to grab those, too). 

“lay down,” zayne commands.  

you blink, glancing around to try to figure out the most convenient position to get into for him to work. by the time he’s come over and sat down on the glass table in front of you, you’re still sitting up. 

“you can put your head on the armrest and your feet that way,” he nods, not a hint of impatience in his deep voice. “i can see you squirming. when you sit up like you are, you’re putting pressure on the wound. it must hurt.” 

“i haven’t even shown you the wound,” you retort, not sure why you’re arguing so much- and swallowing a wince as you turn to prop your head up on the side of the sofa.  

“i see your handywork,” zayne replies. he pulls on a pair of blue latex gloves and they snap quietly against his wrists. he’s clearly careful not to let the noise be too loud. “hm.” 

you frown in place of a (shameful) gulp at the sight of the gloves hugging his hands.  

“is this bad?” you ask. “i’m sorry. i tried not to mess with it too much.” 

zayne pieces through the small kit on the table beside him. even his rummaging is succinct; long fingers deftly parsing through the stack of metal utensils inside. he comes up with two sets of narrow pliers and a cotton round.  

he passes the pliers through his fingers like pencils, balancing them between his knuckles, and pours a solvent that looks like lens cleaner onto the cotton pad. 

“not bad,” he says, eyes on the pliers as he polishes them. “the paper towel is fine. but you got it wet beforehand.” 

“and that’s bad?” 

“you’ll be alright,” he murmurs- or maybe he always sounds like that- and discards the cotton round. the corners of his lips just barely curl. “you won’t die, i suppose.” 

“well, i’d hope not. it’s just a cut.” 

“and what did you do this time?” zayne demands softly, fishing in the kit for what you now realize will be sutures.  

“i had an assignment with xavier and failed to climb a fence.” 

“you impaled yourself, then,” he remarks coldly. “and xavier.” 

he sets a roll of sterile surgical threads on a wider cotton pad and turns his eyes to your midriff, which is still mostly covered by your shirt; wound hiding beneath it.  

“xavier, yeah,” you inhale deeply, mentally preparing for the stitches. “my partner. i’ve mentioned him, i think.” 

“yes, you have,” zayne says. his voice is strained. then he inhales, a whole breath through his nose, mouth closed in stoic secrecy; and nods to your hips. “lift your shirt, please.” 

you’re grateful that he’s given you a task and you don’t have to look him in his eyes after that tiny display of disdain (for your partner? for your hips? hopefully the former?). But as you lift your shirt, the paper towel comes loose. 

“ouch,” you hiss. 

you realize you’re probably stressing him out.  

“it’s not bad,” you add, uncharacteristically hoarse. 

“it’s not,” zayne agrees softly, eyeing the wound with his usual cold stare. his eyes refuse to flicker above or below the cut, which rests just over the shallow ridge of your hipbone, right above the line of your trousers. “but it hurts, i'm sure.” 

you nod. “sure.” 

“sure,” he repeats, almost as if to mock you, almost as if he’s just making sure he heard you right.  

zayne busies himself preparing a cotton round of saline, and in the middle of this, says, 

“you’ll have to unbutton your pants. can you fold the waistband over?” 

your neck is suddenly clammy. “oh. yeah, sure.” 

“if you can’t fold them down far enough, you’ll have to take them off.” 

your eyes blow out like glass. 

zayne, whom you suspected might have been deliberately extending the length of his cotton-round-preparing, is surprisingly the one to smile first. almost wickedly. “i would get you a cover, of course.” 

“oh, how nice of you.” 

he laughs barely, an exhale from his nose. you unbutton your trousers, fabric shifting against metal.  

he inhales at the sound. 

the blue latex over his knuckles catches light from the windows. you watch moments later as he threads the sutures, fascinated by how efficient his hands are. they’re longer than they are wide, and slender, not bear-like; but big nonetheless. and yet his fingers move like knitting needles, never missing a beat, never shaking. “would you like to do it yourself?” zayne asks suddenly. 

his voice is like a hum, always vibrating in his chest. 

you bristle. “god, no.” 

“then why are you staring?”  

you’re hoping he won’t finish on that very word, but he does, and he looks at you with his usual resolve of steel. you decide that no answer is the only good answer, and instead say, 

“okay. good luck. don’t mess up, please.” 

he chuckles and leans over you, the breadth of his sharp shoulders blocking the sun. “i never mess up.”   

the words ‘mess’ and ‘up,’ are foreign on his tongue, like he’d never refer to a mistake so casually, like he’s never made one in his life. he probably hasn’t, you think. 

zayne lifts up the cotton round, which is practically the size of a pea in his hand. “i’m going to clean around it. the solution may sting, but not much. it will be over fast.” 

you nod. “sure.” 

he chuckles again. “sure,” he hums, and then, before he presses down, “here.” 

he swipes the cotton round over your hipbone, startlingly light. goosebumps rise instantly on your flesh. his fingers are icy, even through the gloves; they radiate cold like a lamp radiates heat.  

zayne is kind enough not to mention your instant squirming and moves quickly to start the sutures. 

“this will be fast, too,” he says, looking unwaveringly into your eyes. like he’s trying to will the fear out of you. “not as fast as that, but faster than you’d imagine.” 

you nod. “sure.” 

“there it is again,” he smiles. “sure.” 

you grin incredulously. “i don’t know what else to say. you’re about to stab me.” 

his smile is thin and almost prideful as he grabs his glasses and slips them on. he leans over your hips, then looks up at you; pushing them up the bridge of his nose. 

“aren’t you glad it’s me, at least, and not some stranger?” 

you’re busy inhaling and exhaling like a horse, trying to calm down. “i am glad it’s you, yes.” 

your desperation throws him and his jaw sets like a stone, adam’s-apple bobbing.  

“alright,” zayne says, nearly whispering. “now.” 

he begins the sutures. you gasp, instantly, at first through your nose and then through your mouth; which pops open unwittingly. it’s nearly a whine. 

“i know,” zayne murmurs, leaning back a tiny bit as he works; so his face is visible to you. “i’m sorry.” 

“it’s okay.” 

you bite down hard and screw your eyes shut, but all you do is flinch each time his fingers move. he stops almost instantaneously, like pulling the plug on a treadmill. 

“look at me,” zayne says, deep voice rumbling against your thigh.  

you peel one eye open and then the other. 

“i know it hurts,” he says gently. “but you can’t move. i could seriously hurt you.” 

“sorry, sorry,” you nod. “i know.” 

the pools of his eyes are clear. he’s resolute in his instructions as he speaks, every word confident. 

“breathe the entire time, through every suture. i can work while your stomach moves; i can’t work if you’re flinching away.” 

“okay.” 

his brows lift. “okay?” 

again, you nod. “okay. i’m sorry.” 

“no apologies,” zayne says. 

he presses his hand flat to the side of your belly that’s unharmed, the tips of his long fingers just barely curling around the slope of your waist. you inhale slowly at that, blinking rapidly. his hand is cool as glass.  

you panic, as if he can somehow feel the coil that winds up in your stomach; watching his fingers splayed across your navel.  

“i’m going to try again,” he says. you can feel the words all the way down to his fingertips. then his thumb moves, caressing the skin just over your waistband. “breathe.” 

well, i can’t now. 

“got it,” you grind out. 

“good,” zayne hums. “three, two, one...” 

and it starts again. you bite down, tongue taut to the roof of your mouth. 

“don’t,” zayne warns, stern as ever, but his fingers keep working. “breathe. i can see whether you’re doing it.” 

the coil in your stomach tightens. you peel your eyes open and watch him work, knuckles grazing over the soft, thin flesh that’s been revealed from behind the waistband of your trousers.  

his eyes flash away from your navel as you start to watch. moments later, you’re stunned to see how laser-focused he is, pupils never moving from your cut.  

“do you ever get nervous doing this?” you ask, apt to make the time pass faster by talking. like your mouth isn’t wet just watching him do his job. “are you nervous?” 

“no.” his reply is instant. “i’ve done this hundreds of times.” 

you’re stunned. “i would be nervous.” 

“you are nervous,” zayne murmurs. “close your eyes.” 

the ball of his wrist presses into the juncture of your hipbone.  

“no,” you gasp. too fast. 

zayne’s fingers slow, utensils suspended. he looks up at you, somehow feeling taller still. “no?” 

you shake your head. “i-i don’t like not knowing what you’re going to do next.” 

oh, sure.  

he’s stopped working at this point, watching you like a hawk. “then i’ll tell you what i’m going to do before i do it.” 

“that’s okay,” you exhale. i’m dying. 

zayne’s eyes rove over yours, not unkind, but uncaring about how visible his assessment of you is. clinical, even still. the corners of his lips curl up.  

you’re not sure how it’s possible for your stomach to drop while laying flat on your back, but it does; your ears hot as irons.  

he goes back to work without another word. you’re so embarrassed, you finally shut your eyes and let your head weigh on the armrest until he’s done. 

“alright,” zayne says. “that’s it. don’t move.” 

you keep your eyes shut, nodding. “i really can’t thank you enough, i-” 

“watch.” 

for a moment, you lay there. then you open your eyes, peering down at him, too uncertain to be shocked yet. “what?” 

zayne takes his small kit from the table and places it on your lap. you startle, blink, as he sifts through the contents of it. gloves still on.  

“this is another cleanser,” he hums, his voice uncharacteristically musical. “i’m going to clean around the sutures.” 

you stare incredulously at him. “...okay.” 

he’s not fooled by your aloofness. zayne’s right hand works slow circles with a cotton round around your cut; the other comes down flat to keep the waistband of your trousers from getting in his way. both are cold to the touch; never quite warming.  

your jaws come apart and you barely manage to stop your mouth from falling open as discards the cotton round and takes the corner of your waistband into his hand. 

he buttons your trousers; pulls the zipper up. 

you watch like a fool. then, when he’s done, and you think you’ll have to admit to what you’re thinking, he furrows his brows at your face.  

“did you cut yourself here, too?” he murmurs. 

“where?” you croak. 

zayne shakes his head and slowly peels off the gloves; letting them slide slowly off his fingers. “mm. here.” 

he reaches forward and spreads fingers to cup your temples. one thumb glides over your browbone, low enough that you can see it; four or five times before removing his kit from your hips and leaning back.  

you exhale harshly and move to sit up, wondering if you’ll be able to somehow flee the office without another word. 

“not yet,” zayne says. “lay back again. you don’t have to put your head back; just lean back.” 

and you do it, instantly, because...well, because.  

zayne pulls a rectangular gauze pad with an adhesive border from the small kit. then he leans forward- he'd be positioned between your legs, if you opened them- and pulls your shirt up once more. 

as he presses the bandage over your sutured wound, it seems like even he can’t look at you. but his usually statuesque expression is lifted with amusement, plus something more sinister.  

“you like to watch me work,” he hums. 

his fingers dip under your waistband to smooth the bandage over. 

“shut up,” you bite. 

he leans back and watches you with no further offerings- words or otherwise medically dubious practices- and looks quite pleased. his breath is ragged, though; chest lifting and caving. 

“thank you,” you exhale. your tongue darts out over your lips.  

his pupils are swollen. “sure.” 

you grin, caught off guard by the joke. it sounds ridiculous in his voice.  

“my break will be ending,” zayne says, stony as ever once again as he walks to his desk.  

you stand, smoothing your hair down like something far more scandalous just occurred than stitches. 

“what do i owe you?” you ask. this earns a genuine, icy glare. 

“nothing,” zayne replies, pulling on his white jacket and grabbing his things. “but go to the front desk before you leave. i’m going to call in a prescription ointment for you.” 

you blink at him, thrice. a little dizzy. “oh, wow. thank you.” 

as zayne strides to the door, you think he might genuinely leave you there without another word. but he takes the door handle, and, almost shy, turns over his shoulder and says, 

“i’d like to stay with you, but i can’t. i’ll be working until dinner.” 

“no, no,” you rush, stepping to meet him at the door. “i’m fine. thank you so much, for doing this. i was just thinking.” 

he still can’t look at you, but at that; zayne grins. 

“i’ll call you when i get home,” he says. then, “is that okay?” 

you swallow. “of course.” 

“i want to know how the sutures feel in a couple of hours,” he adds. 

“oh, sure,” you tease. 

his eyes darken, like darts. you’re almost afraid.  

zayne opens the door for you and waits for you to pass by, eyes full of mirth as he looks down at you. “i’m glad i could be of service.” 

he raps his fingers on a clipboard until you look away. you blush feverishly all the way down the hall at how he says ‘service.’ 

☄. *. ⋆

this is not how you do stitches nor how you sterilize utensils. anyways FIRST POST. lol. anon if you or anyone else wants a part 2 of this (nsfw) i wiiiiiill do it lmk

[crimsonbubble]

Hey babe. You know part 2 to your shadow company blub. I can't help but need to ask for that specific piece where you said when they run a bath for you, you can't help but get finger fucked. Like omg I'm feeling so embarrassed to ask but you are one of the few people that gives me justice in smut ok

I'm on my period and feeling like a slut. Anyways love you. 🫶🏽

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, bath sex, fingering, overstimulation, praise, squirting *not proofread, just pure horny

[SCREAMING WITHOUT THE S,, GOOD LORD NONNIE THANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME HOW FUCKING HORNY I AM FOR THE SHADOW COMPANY // continuing the bath part of this hc thing :D] also the names are purely random bc not using names would make this way too confusing

kinktober masterlist

MINORS DNI!!

They take care of you. They always do.

So after a long and tiring session, two shadows, Logan and Stephen were assigned to take care of and pamper you. The two assigned to you were sweethearts, like two big and loving dogs. They’re just as eager as them too.

The shadows are simple, you lay back and sit all nice and pretty while they do all the work. So here you sat, in the bath of soothingly warm water as Stephen lightly washed your back. “You did so well, bunny. Did such a good job today.” You preen under the praise, closing your eyes as you get your hair washed.

Logan moved their hands down, washing along your arms and ribs. You can’t tell when the switch flipped until a hand found its way to your thighs. You subconsciously open your legs, letting out a short gasp as you feel two fingers press circles into the sensitive nub.

Your thighs clamp down around the hand before they are pushed open again. “Just want one more, baby, promise, just one more.” You lean back against the edge of the tub, holding onto Logan’s forearm.

Stephen reaches down, pressing two fingers against your sore pussy. His fingers are quick to push in, getting kisses along your cheeks as you cry out and clamp down on them. Their paces picked up immensely as you hiccuped out moans, hips twitching as all your pleasure points were pressed against.

“That’s it, sweet bun. Take us just like this, nice and easy.” It is not nice and easy. You feel like you’re gonna explode, grabbing at anything and everything in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. The water around you sloshed rapidly as you were lifted out of the water and placed onto Logan’s lap.

Logan’s fingers replace Stephen’s, while his replaced Logan's. The two continued to toy and play with your cunt, circling your swollen clit with feather-like touches and harsh curls into your sweet spot. You’re thrashing in Logan’s lap, the contrast in touches making you dizzy.

“C’mon pretty baby, give it to me, just one more time.” Stephen scissored you open with his fingers, using his free hand to hold your thighs open. The feeling was overwhelming, surrounding you and clogging your senses. Your brain feels like cotton, airy and floaty as the pleasure becomes increasingly intense.

The constant friction of fingers against your sweet spots, figure eights on your clit and the smooth purr of praises muddle your brain. Your body is on autopilot as each nerve ending is set on fire. All you can hear is water splashing, wet sounds of skin on skin and the voices of the men cooing never-ending praises into your ears.

Once the ringing in your ears had quieted down, you managed to wedge your eyes open. Through bleary eyes, you noticed the once dry shirt of Stephens was soaked from the chest down. His eyes held a look of bewilderment as he tried to calm his laboured breathing. Logan was breathing just as hard, his hands holding your thighs open.

Though your vision had cleared, your head did not. You merely looked at Stephen in confusion, before it was replaced with shock. Logan handed you off to Stephen before he kneeled in front of you, now getting his entire lower half wet as he sank into the water. “We’re not stopping until you do that again.”

[billys-slutcherson]

'Strawberries'

Peeta Mellark x Gen!Reader

────────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───────────────

Oneshot:

After it all, you are still you and he is still Peeta.

He will always go above and beyond to see your smiles, always.

Tags:

Pure Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Romance, Pre-Established Romance, Hand Holding, Hair Playing, Post-Mockingjay

────────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───────────────

The wind blew crisply through your hair, as you sat cross-legged under the morning sun. The birds chirped, it felt, for the first time in a long time, still. Feeling your skin prick under the fresh heat, hunching forward to hug your knees. Sniffing the wet dewy grass.

You swallowed slowly, and your thoughts left you. Your mind started to race. Memories darted by, slight panic rose, and sweat formed on your neck. Tricking against the digits of your spine. You raised your shoulders sharply, tensing as your breaths grew hasty, that familiar uncertainty in your chest. Biting on your lips as you feign tears.

Suddenly, it all stopped. Like a flash of warm light over your soul. Cradling your pained heart.

The warmth of his hand clutched over your shoulder. Squeezing tightly, his thumb rubbed against your cold skin. The touch is gentle, and grounding. Feeling his lips meet the top of your head, pressing into the windswept strands of hair.

Peeta.

He was standing over you, with his head tilted to the left. A soft crooked smile tugged on his lips. As he crouched, tipping back onto his rear as he sat as close as he could. A small bowl in hand.

You couldn't help but stare at him. He was so pretty under the morning sun. So beautiful all the time. The light danced across the blonde hairs on his head. The freckles of his nose, you wanted to count each and every one. Tilting your head into the nook of his neck. Smelling that familiar scent. The lavender from washing his clothes, and an earthy dirt smell from pruning his little garden patches. With a lingering hint of primrose.

His smell was like home.

Peeta was your home.

"Hey..." His soft voice whispered against your skin. Shivering a little as your breath tickled his neck. His fingers grazed your cheek, silently wiping away the stray tear with his thumb. Moving to brush through your hair softly. Nuzzling his chin against you, feeling you rest closely into his touch.

"You are up early, have you eaten?..." Asking peacefully, without pressure, but with purpose.

You shook your head softly.

His brow furrowed only a little, though he wasn't all too surprised. All Peeta wanted was to ensure you were ok. More than ok, blossoming. He felt dedicated to providing you with the care you deserve.

"Well, I have a surprise." He nudged with his elbow narrowly. Noticing your sudden gaze. Gotcha.

Peeta sighed softly with a short laugh.

"Never change." He begged joyously, seeing that little glimmer of light in your eyes. Hope. Peeta carefully lifted a small cotton cloth off of the little clay bowl in his hands.

Raising your head abruptly, almost knocking his chin. Peeta watched you eagerly, encouraging you as he felt you clutch at the bowl.

"Strawberries..." You whispered, almost inaudibly. His other hand cupped your cheek softly. Your smile that you couldn't hide, healed him. You felt like you were melting under his warm hand that caressed your face so affectionately. Peeta gave your cheek a quick squeeze. His touch was delicate, and he couldn't prevent his shy laugh.

"I know they are your favourite... Haymitch managed to snag some seeds for me. I grew them by the Primrose..." Pressing his forehead to yours. Noses brushing.

Flicking your eyes to his, you felt them well up with tears. Your breaths shuddered. How long, had he kept them a secret? Biting your inner lip, unable to find the words. Peeta knew, he always knew. He didn't require the words. Nodding to you.

The dedication, the time he had taken to grow them, and tend to them. Nurturing them, like he nurtures you.

He thumbed your bottom lip. Shaking his head as he subtly stopped your anxious chewing. Without words, or chastising.

"How did I get so lucky?" You murmured. Peeta's face warmed, the pink on his cheeks grew as you said it.

He shook his head, his little smirk showing.

You felt him wrap his arm against your waist. Lifting a strawberry from the bowl, the sun struck the bright fruity red as he nudged it towards you. Lifting your head to take a bite. The sweet juicy taste filled your mouth, and you could smell it filtering through your nose. That lovely sweet almost floral smell. Humming as you chewed the mouthwatering fruit.

The red stained your lips pink, as Peeta smiled. He couldn't look away, not for a second. Incapable of missing any moment of your happiness. Ever.

Your eyes opened catching his gaze as he offered another, you nudged it to him and he tutted.

"Hm, do you think I didn't steal some already when picking them? These are yours." The sound of your laughs after he said it made him glow. He utterly adored you.

Shaking his head, as he lifted the bowl, setting it on the grass in front of him. Patting his lap gently, you scooted softly to lay down against his thighs. Watching the blades of grass waft in the wind. As your fingers crept into the bowl stealing another strawberry. His soft lips crooked back to that smile as he played with your hair gently, brushing his fingers through each strand so attentively. Fingernails tickling against your scalp, tracing little shapes, and squiggles.

Shifting his hand to a little daisy nestled in the earth. Peeta plucked it gently, tucking it behind your ear.

"Almost as lovely as you." Mumbling a little as he said it.

Leaning down to kiss your cheek. Feeling his soft lips sink on your skin. Lingering the way he always does. You could smell the strawberries on his breath and it tickled your skin feeling his exhale. Reaching to take his hand in yours, he instinctively curled his fingers between yours. Squeezing tightly.

"I am here, always." He reassured.

"Always." You echoed.  

────────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───────────────

So, after all these years, I finally watched all of the Hunger Games films.

NO, I AM NOT OKAY, OR NORMAL ABOUT IT.

I will continue to break my heart about it, and I would die for Katniss and Peeta.

This one shot is totally inspired by Bill and Frank from the Last of Us, because what is love, if not growing strawberries for the love of your life?

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 1/? 3.5k Series Masterlist

✏︎ Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him.

Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, perv!eddie, smut (18+ mdni), true love, internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

A/N: I've poured my heart and soul into this one.

Fourth period English was the only class that Eddie Munson could seem to pay attention in, though not exactly to the lessons. 

He propped his cheek against his knuckles as he watched you from the back of the classroom.

“See, everything is filtered through Holden’s limited first person narration, so we get really pure insight into how he sees the world, but we also have to take it with a grain of salt,” you said, delicate heels clicking against the tile floor as you paced back and forth. “We see what he pays attention to, and therefore what we ought to pay attention to as readers.”

Eddie’s eyes traced the curve of your waist, over the back of your tweed pencil skirt as you turned to place the chalk back on the ledge at the bottom of the board. It was hugging you in all the right places, as it did every time you wore it. His favorite.

“Alright let’s break out the quotes and notes assignment from chapter ten. Who would like to share their thoughts on a quote with the class?” 

Your eyes scanned the room. Students shifted in their chairs in an awkward silence before a hand shot up in the front row. 

“Nancy,” you smiled and gestured to her, “Take the floor.” 

“Ok so one of the quotes I picked out was where he says ‘I damn near gave my kid sister Phoebe a buzz, though. I certainly felt like talking to her on the phone. Someone with sense and all.’ I think it’s really interesting that he says that she has sense,” said Nancy.

Eddie barely registered a word of what Nancy said. He was too transfixed on your shirt, the way the fabric parted at the buttons when you leaned in just the right way. Sometimes if he was lucky he could catch a flash of skin, a glimpse of delicate lace from your bra. It almost made him wish he would have picked a seat closer to the front of the class. 

Nancy continued. “Right now he’s surrounded by very mature things at the hotel that he’s trying to make sense of and has really negative opinions about. He keeps thinking of his little sister though, and that’s always positive, so that’s in contrast to the rest of what’s going on.”

“Thank you, Nancy, that’s exactly right. A juxtaposition, very perceptive of you.”

Eddie shifted in his seat, feeling his pants start to tighten. 

“Does anyone else have a quote they’d like to share their thoughts on with the class?”

Chairs creaked, a few legs scooted loudly against the floor in the restless silence. A sniffle.

“Come on, Nancy can’t carry this entire class.” You tapped your fingers on the desk behind you. “Well, I know she could but I’m not going to let her,” you said, giving her a little wink.

Still silence. 

“Alright, fine.” You glanced around at the rows of averted eyes until yours settled on the young man in the leather jacket seated at the very back far right corner of the classroom. “Eddie,” you said with a gentle smile. 

His dark eyes shot up, face flushing. 

“Do you have any thoughts on what you read in chapter ten last night?”

Eddie licked his lips, casting his eyes downward in thought. “I uh,” his mouth was like cotton, “No I don’t really think I… understood the chapter,” he said, giving a sheepish grin. The soft pout of disappointment on your pretty lips made his stomach drop.

“I don’t think he can even read the chapter,” muttered the blonde athlete in the seat next to him.  

“Jason,” you began, but Eddie didn’t miss a beat.

“I don’t think you can even read your girlfriend,” he said, to which the class awakened audibly.

Jason shot daggers at Eddie. “Why don’t you quit talking to her and find a girlfriend closer to your  age, huh? There’s plenty at the senior home across the street.”

The class erupted in laughter.

“Stop it, both of you!” you shouted over the din. “The next person to make another sound has detention,” you said sternly. The class grew quiet again, allowing space for your voice to soften. “Eddie, please see me after class.”

“Oooh,” mocked Jason as he sat back and laughed.

“Jason, detention.”

“What? No!”

“I told you, the next person to speak has detention. I don’t make idle threats.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as he watched you command the room.

“Please,” Jason begged,  “It’s the last practice before the game tomorrow.”

“No. You can use your time in detention to work on practicing some self control.”

Jason huffed and shot Eddie another glare but Eddie’s eyes were fixed on his desk, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his face contorted. It took all of his strength to bite back a laugh.

You sighed and leaned back on your desk at the front of the classroom. “Now then,” you started, composing yourself, “I’ll be very curious to read all of your assigned journal entries from this chapter, since clearly so many of you have something to say.”

Chairs shifted. A cough.

“Alright, pass them forward,” you said, gesturing to the class. 

The room was filled with the sound of sheets being torn from notebooks, binders opening, paper shuffling. The students passed the pages forward up the four rows and you walked by to collect them.

“Why don’t we spend the last fifteen minutes of class silently reading the book, hm? Then maybe tomorrow we might have something to talk about.”

You returned to sit at your desk with the papers as the students opened up their books. 

Eddie dug his beat up copy of The Catcher in the Rye out of the mess of his backpack. The red, soft cover spine was beginning to peel away from abuse.

He opened it up to a random page and began to gloss over the words but none of them registered. His mind was too full of other images — the arch of your back, the way you toyed at your lips with your finger in thought, of what you would look like bent over that desk of yours with him on top of you.

Fifteen minutes passed like this. The bell rang. 

Eddie waited in his seat as the other students filed out of the classroom, turning to bury the book in his backpack in an effort to avoid Jason, but it didn’t matter.

“Watch it, freak. I mean it, I’ve got my eyes on you,” said Jason, to which Eddie simply raised his eyebrows in mock fear.

After the last student left, Eddie slowly approached you, dragging his feet a little as he walked. 

You swiped the last of the chalk from the board with the eraser, leaving a small cloud of dust as you turned to face him. 

“Sorry for the outburst today.” The chain on his wrist rattled as he brought a hand to his chest, “I meant no disrespect,” he said earnestly. “Well, I did to Jason, but never to you.”

You returned a soft smile, “Thanks, I appreciate the apology even though I can see that you weren’t exactly the instigator.” 

“Yeah, well, Jason, like any basic primate, seems to think that any male who comes within three feet of his mate is a threat.”

A snort escaped you. Basic primate.  

Eddie’s eyes crinkled, his smile contagious. “Besides, Chrissy’s the one who came over to talk to me anyway.”  

You sighed and shook your head, not really knowing what to say.

“Sorry, I know, I���ll stop.”

You gave him a gracious look and took a deep breath to compose yourself, “Eddie,” you started.

His mouth curved ever so slightly as he relished in the way his name rolled off your tongue.

“We’ve been in class for about a month now,” you began, “You haven’t turned in an assignment in the last two weeks.”

Eddie scratched the back of his head, “Yeah, uh, sorry about that.”

“Now I might be new to teaching here, but I know this isn’t your first time in this class, nor your second. Clearly there must be some part of you that wants to graduate, or else you would have just dropped out two years ago, right?” you asked, searching his eyes. “You don’t strike me as the sort of person who does anything they don’t want to do.”

Eddie smirked, “It’s only been a month and you already know me so well, miss.”

There was something about the way that he said it that brought a heat to your cheeks. You tucked your hair behind your ear in an attempt to hide it. “Well, what do you think we can do about this little conundrum then? I don’t want to see you fail.” 

“I dunno, maybe I just… need a little help?” he said sheepishly.  

You hummed, bringing a curved finger to your lips in thought. “I want to help you, but you have to be willing to put in some effort.”

“I know, I’ve been totally slacking. That’s on me. I can change that,” he said assuredly, “I promise.”

You smiled softly at his earnestness. “If you’re willing to put in the effort, I would be open to tutoring you. I have some time after school today if you want to stop by my classroom, we can come up with a game plan then.”

Eddie’s dark eyes widened at the suggestion, “I’d appreciate that very much, miss.”

You gave a nod, “Sure thing. I’ll see you after school then. I’ll be here.”

 “See ya later,” he said, grabbing his well worn backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. “Oh, and,” he turned back toward you, closing the distance between you even further. His eyes lingered over your lips for a moment before meeting your gaze again, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you half whispered.

You turned toward your desk to gather the papers in as neat a pile as you could manage with the frayed edges left by spiral notebooks and placed them in your fourth period grading folder. The bell rang out again through the halls signaling lunch period. You grabbed your purse from under your desk and closed the classroom door behind you. 

Walking through the halls of Hawkins High was like a strange recurring dream. Same drop ceiling, same tile floor. Same weird smell when you walked past the science room. The same cliques too — the jocks, the burnouts, the party animals. This time with less bell bottoms and fringe, more leg warmers and hairspray. Surprisingly little had changed. 

You opened the door to the teacher’s lounge adjacent to the cafeteria. The wood paneled walls and old carpet were much less familiar to you than the hallways and classrooms you had spent countless hours in. It was strange to be on this side of things now.

“How’s your day going so far, sweetie?” chimed Ms. Click, putting the glass coffee pot back on the warmer. 

“Oh, you know, just another day of pulling teeth from my class. I swear Nancy Wheeler was the only one who read the chapter last night.”

A swoon swept across the room. “Oh Nancy, she really is such a bright star isn’t she?” Ms. Click remarked, her voice sweet like table sugar.  “You know she kind of reminds me of you when you were her age, doesn’t she, Doris?” 

Doris O’Donnell hummed and pursed her lips with a little nod.

“Well, smarts-wise anyway. Boy I try not to pick favorites but you certainly were a pleasure to have in class. If I’m remembering right you were valedictorian, weren’t you?” 

You offered a weak smile, “Yep, class of ’74.”

“’74? Goodness it hasn’t been that long has it? Gosh we sure are getting old aren’t we?” she called over to Ms. O’Donnell, the beads on her glasses chain rattling as she laughed, “Oh goodness I don’t mean you sweetie,” she said, putting her hand on yours reassuringly, “Heck if I didn’t know you I would have mistaken you for a student!”

“Thank you Ms. — I mean Peggy.” You grabbed a mug from the stack and turned it over in your hands. #1 Teacher. The matte apple and text printed on the front of it was fading with age. You filled it with coffee and and grabbed a small open milk carton sitting nearby, watching the cream swirl in the mug before taking a seat at one of the three round tables with plastic veneer to look like wood. 

“Gosh, you know I don’t mean to pry, but with such a pretty face to match the good head on your shoulders I would have thought you’d have a different last name by now.”

You stared into your coffee, feeling the ghost of the ring on your finger. “Ah, yeah. Almost, but… it didn’t work out.” 

“Oh — I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t realize.”

“It’s um — it’s fine.”

“You know there’s plenty of lovely young bachelors at St. Michael’s, we’re having a potluck tonight if you want to come.” 

It took all of your strength to hide a visible grimace. Sounds delightful. “No thanks, I can’t. I’ve offered to tutor a student after school today.”

“Who might that be?” asked Ms. Click.

“Eddie Munson.” 

The whole room groaned. 

Ms. O’Donnell cackled from her corner, her toad-like face contorting. “Good luck. I’ve been stuck with him for the last three years. Honestly I don’t know why he’s still in school. He’s too old to be here anymore if you ask me.”

Your eyes shot up from your coffee. “Well, he must have some desire to be here or otherwise he wouldn’t be. Isn’t it our duty as teachers to help students achieve milestones?” 

Ms. O’Donnell huffed, “Oh yeah, he needs help alright. None that I can give him though.” 

“I can imagine that help would be a difficult thing to offer while putting him down.”

She snorted, “Sure sweetie. Say some magic words of encouragement, that’ll do the trick. Hey, pick me up a little fairy dust too while you’re at it.” 

Laughter rang out across the teachers lounge.

Your lips formed a hard line as you popped open the tupperware container which held your salad.  

“Keep us posted, will you? We’re all dying to know how it goes.”

______

You could hear the lockers slamming shut as the din in the hallway began to die down, students filtering out with the last bell of the day. You flipped through the pile of notebook papers on your desk, making small notes on each one with a green pen before setting them onto the neat pile in front of you. You never liked to use red, too harsh. 

There was a strange feeling in your stomach that you couldn’t seem to shake. You wondered if perhaps the chicken on your salad had sat in the fridge for a few days too many. 

Your eyes shot up from your papers as you heard footsteps at the door. “Hey, Eddie.”

Eddie flashed you a smile and a little wave as he dragged a chair from the far corner of the room to the empty spot across from you and plunked himself down in it.

“How are you?” you asked.

“Oh, you know, just another day in suburban paradise.”

You chuckled dryly, “Yeah, you could say that again.”

Eddie fiddled with his rings, twisting them as he looked at you with those big dark eyes.

“So first off, let’s talk about the book we’re reading in class. Have you read any of it?”

“I did read the first few chapters, kind of lost interest though, sorry,” he admitted.

You nodded curtly. “The Catcher in the Rye seems to be a fairly polarizing book from my experience. Some students love it, others hate it. I myself am in the former camp, of course. I tend to find that most of the people who don’t like it just don’t quite understand it.”

Eddie gave a short puff of air through his nose. “I could say the same thing about most of the shit I’m interested in.”  

You smiled sympathetically. “Is reading not really your thing?”

“Actually, contrary to the opinion of a certain primate, I do like to read.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Really? Like what?”

“Fantasy mostly, The Lord of the Rings, really anything Tolkien writes. I’ve read those books a few times through actually,” he said, “Probably kind of stupid to read the same thing over and over when you could be reading other things, but — ”

“No, that’s not stupid at all! I’ve read them more than once too, actually.” Your eyes were sparkling. “They’re some of my favorites.”

Eddie sat back in his chair, a smile playing on his lips. “You? A geek? Never would have guessed.”

You smirked at him. You couldn’t quite tell if he was being sarcastic or serious. “Actually incorporating world building with storytelling the way that Tolkien does is something I’ve always tried to emulate in my own writing.”

“Your own writing?” Eddie shifted in his chair, leaning in.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, glancing downward, wishing you could suck the words back into your mouth.  

“You write books?”

“I… don’t know if you could quite call them books if they aren’t published, or totally finished but — I do like to write stories.”

Eddie’s eyes were enormous. “Can I read them? Oh please let me read them.”

The heat was back in your cheeks again. “Oh jeez, I don’t know, it’s been ages since I’ve even looked at them myself.”

Eddie leaned in even more, his elbows on the desk. “Come on,” his smile was so disarming, “What,  you think I’m gonna like, judge you or something?”

You looked down at the papers you were grading and clicked the pen in your hand. “I don’t know, writing is such an oddly… personal thing.” 

“Please? You know I’m like the last person to be passing judgement on something like that, right?”

You sighed. His eyes were big, and wet, and pleading and you cursed yourself for being stirred by them. “Ok, how about this, if you can get your grades up, get at least a B in one of your classes, I’ll let you read one of my stories.”

Eddie sat back in his chair, grinning from ear to ear. “Challenge accepted.”

You tucked your hair behind your ear as you met his smile, “Whatever motivates you,” you said trying not to think too hard about the implications of the deal you just made. “You know, what I really want to talk about is the creative writing assignment you turned in the first week of class.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That bad, huh?”  

“No! Actually not bad at all. Actually quite good. You’re very creative, Eddie.”

“Oh is that what they’re calling it these days?” he deflected.

“No, I’m serious. You’ve written stories before, haven’t you?”

“Well, I am the dungeon master for my DnD club.”

You squinted your eyes curiously at him.

“Oh! So basically, I come up with the plot of the story that they players are going to play. I create the world essentially, lead them through the story. Well, to some extent. The monsters are all from a guidebook but the plot is all me.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Creativity and leadership.”

Eddie chuckled and scratched the back of his head to distract from the heat creeping across his cheeks. “Yeah, well, doesn’t change the fact that I’m 20 years old and still in high school.”

“About that,” you started, “Why do you want to graduate? Maybe if you can identify the reason for reaching your goal, then you can find the motivation to work toward it. Besides wanting to read my stories anyway, like a personal reason.”

Eddie sat back in his chair for a moment, biting his lip in thought. “Uhh, maybe to prove all the assholes in this god forsaken purgatory wrong?”

You laughed, probably a bit too hard. “I think that’s an excellent reason.”

Eddie beamed. “See, I knew I liked you.”

You coyly returned his smile and fidgeted with the pen in your hand again. “Let’s figure out a day or two when we can meet weekly. Got any after school conflicts?”

“My band plays at the Hideout Tuesday nights, Fridays I’ve got Hellfire Club.”

“How about Mondays and Wednesdays then? Does that work for you?”

“Sure does.”

“Great, and I can help you with other classes too, to the best of my ability anyway. Show you how best to study, how to approach papers and essays — that sort of stuff.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said softly.

 The feeling in your stomach was back again. “Me too.”

______

Thank you so much for reading, tons more to come! Comments and reblogs keep me going! 🙏

Tag list: @ooo-protean-ooo @toxicjayhoo @mermaidsandcats29 @jadequeen88 @msgexymunson @wroteclassicaly @inknopewetrust @storiesbyrhi @kissmyacdc @cherry-vamps @willgrahamspsycheval

There are some of you are on this list who I talked to about this months ago! Sorry it took me a while to get this up but I’ve spent the last month outlining this monstrosity. That’s mostly out of the way now so updates should be pretty regular, like once a week. 💕

[ronearoundblindly]

Ro! I’ve been on a mint chocolate chip ice cream kick lately, and it makes me wish I could share a pint with a babe (that’s also probably very much the pre period hormones, but anywayyy) which ice cream flavor do you think you would associate with each of the babes? Their favorite flavor and/or personality trait-wise.

Mint chip is my favorite, too! \o/ I don't get to eat ice cream much, but this was interesting to think about. I will try not to project onto the babes, though, only their pure likes maybe...

Oh snap! I can use the banner again!!! (All characters I've ever written for below.)

James Mace - Neapolitan

When this guy indulges (very rarely), he can't decide on just one flavor, so the easiest thing to do is get multiples. If he can go to a shop where you order by the scoop, he'll ask whoever is behind the counter what the popular or new or their faves are and try three of those. Mace, I believe, can pack away some ice cream.

Curtis Everett - Birthday Cake or Cotton Candy

The sickliest sweet things are a delight to Curtis. He's never gotten over how bland and boring and miserable the food of his childhood was. He goes nuts for sugar overload, but in intensity of taste, not in volume.

Jimmy Dobyne - Peach

Fruity, refreshing, creamy, and just screaming to add a dirty joke onto the end of it, Jimmy will use any excuse to sneak a double-entendre into polite conversation with a pretty lady. "Your peaches taste the sweetest..." Yeah, dessert is more about flirting than it is about eating. Ice cream is nice in the heat, however, so it's a great date option.

Johnny Storm - Cookies & Cream

With extra cookie crumbles and caramel sauce on top, he'll demand. Sprinkles, too, if you have it. Maybe some gummy worms or cereal. At least, like, five cherries. Oh! Also preferred that it be hard frozen when he starts eating so that it's not soup halfway through his rapid eating of it. The sensation of eating ice cream gets lost when he can barely tell it's cold.

Jake Jensen - Black Raspberry Chocolate Chip

This flavor has everything (and yeah, ok, I am projecting a bit on this one, whatever). Jake likes a whole lot of flavors and textures; he's actually not picky at all. He does enjoy ~the hunt~ for this rarer find in all his travels because raspberry is a popular flavor--it's often a sorbet though--but it's not the most popular of the berry options. He also will try all of the crazy niche flavors at hole-in-the-wall places. Conversely, it is easier to work while not holding a bowl or cone, so Jake loves a good milkshake or malt. Those he can sucked down like air.

Lloyd Hansen - Mint Chocolate Chip

My theory is this man is obsessed with fresh: fresh food, fresh sheets, fresh intel, fresh meat. Bet you his lip balm is always, only mint, too. Very classic. Very pristine. Fresh. Sweetness with a purpose.

Ari Levinson - Butter Pecan

Fine, I'm projecting again, idec, but you can't tell me Ari isn't this kind of old soul who loves not-overly-sugary treats! You cannot change my mind. That guy loves the crunch of candied pecans in there, he freaking lives for that rounded slightly-savory sweet cream flavor, and he loves that it's widely available but never sold out anywhere. Easy!

Ransom Drysdale - Coffee

And it's weirdly been that way since he was too young of a kid to drink coffee? Turns out, this was the flavor his father got but told Ransom he wasn't old enough for, he wouldn't like it. Of course, Ran immediately ordered two scoops of it in a chocolate dipped sprinkle cone, and while he may not have been totally keen on it in that exact moment, coffee-flavor grew on him. He loves it as much as he loves all of the other behaviors that say "f*** you" to his parents.

Steve Rogers - Rocky Road

Created during the Great Depression, this ice cream was shared between Steve and his Ma quite a few nights when he was too sickly to go out but needed a pick-me-up. Bucky enjoyed it with him, too, but it's not his favorite. Steve tends to really enjoy eating only when there's nostalgia attached to the food.

Bucky Barnes - Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter

Rich, velvety, and made slightly different by each company. Sometimes Bucky wants ribbons of fudge and the tiny pb cups mixed in; sometimes he wants full-blown chocolate ice cream with peanut butter swirled in. Can't go wrong. Only good, heavy, decadent happiness vibes.

I am...stunned at how confident I feel in these choices HA!

Thank you for asking!

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Leather Weather

—

Time written-4:10 p.m

Jason Todd/fem!reader fluff (featuring off brand Starbucks, something stupid inspired from my lack of caffeine)

—

The rain was nice, not enough to weigh down clothes, scarcely enough to wreak havoc on your hair.

A solemn, constant drizzle emitted from dark, pillowy clouds, growing darker throughout the day.

It was cold, though. A solid 61 degrees.

You weren’t too sure if it was rain or tiny shards of ice that pommeled your cheeks, the chill leaving you too concerned about it to care.

Can we go get coffee? You texted Jason from your couch slouch, a blanket comfortably shielding your toes from the chill.

A solid six seconds pass before an echo of a yell erupts from your bedroom.

“You could’ve walked about twenty steps to come ask me!”

You stifle a giggle before opening your phone again, typing your response on screen before hitting send.

Too lazy. Can we take Batmobile?

Pure silence invades the space of your home before you finally get a response. Patience, as it’s known, brings great rewards.

Ok.

Some amusing demon on your shoulder insisted Jason would be incredibly casual about bringing a limousine to take you to get coffee. Or worse.

Only someone like Dick would be crazy to bring a party bus with stripper poles. No one would be silly enough to deny it much.

“Here.” A heavy, thick weight plasters over both your shoulders. A fairly strong scent of cologne you had bought for his birthday wafted through your nose, making your heart flutter.

His leather jacket protects your body from a majority of the rain, whilst the grey cotton hoodie shields your hair. The cherry to this was the pleasantly long sleeves hanging past your fingertips.

You would think you’d have to beg to borrow his jacket, but it would be on your body before the thought even comes to mind. He enjoys seeing you in his clothes, especially one of his old leather jackets, with sweater lining inside to make it just the right amount of cozy.

“Bruce still makes you work in this weather?” You question the vigilante as he runs his hand through his damp hair, tilting his head back on the headrest with a sigh.

“Yep.”

He peers out the window, watching the rain ripple down along the surface. “Don’t get me started on how it all works. I know it’s cold, but the suit helps me deal with it.”

Gotham weather such as this, paired with the early afternoon before the work rush buzz kicks in lead to semi empty streets, making it quite a smooth ride towards the favorable coffee shop.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Jason chides shortly before you could sit up in your set and breeze the drive thru menu,

“Got it memorized up in here,” he taps along his temple. “But don’t kill me if they misplace one sprinkle, alright?”

“We’ll see,” you dramatically tease, slouching back in your seat once more. After a three car wait, Jason comes to order your drink first, leaving you focus on various raindrops grouping together before rippling down along the windshield.

“That’s it?” You chime after hearing Jason confirm the order the attendee repeated back to him.

“What?” Jason glances over whilst pulling out his wallet.

“A chai tea?” You say with furrowed brows. “That’s it?”

Jason blinks, slowly pulling out some cash.

“Yeah?” He nearly hesitates, responding with utter confusion. “Technically babe, it’s just chai. That means tea.”

“Yeah, I know, but that’s all you’re gonna get??”

He keeps quiet, unsure how else to respond.

“Yeah. It tastes good.” He shrugged, keeping his attention focused on the car in front him.

He extends his hand to grasp two paper cups with beige sleeves and signature, rich green logo. You sip your drink nearly on the spot, humming in delight.

“Perfect.”

“Dessert in a cup, more like.” Jason mutters under his breath as he pulls back onto the road.

“It’s delicious,” you insist as you take your cup, seeing him roll his eyes. “Don’t judge me cause you order boring drinks.”

“Chai is good, okay? It’s not complicated, an’ I like it.”

You stare ahead, biting the inner corner of your cheek in thought before taking another sip of your hot drink.

“You raise your pinkie sometimes,” you broadly state, your gaze just as fixated on the road as his.

“You slurp obnoxiously loud for your no reason.” Jason chides in retaliation to your statement.

“Says the guy who drinks solid black coffee seven times a week.”

“You order vanilla bean frappes thinking they have coffee in it, an’ they don’t!”

“So??”

“You’re literally drinking blended milk, babe!”

“Sometimes that’s all I need!” An involuntary giggle at such an ear sore of an amusing conversation takes place. “Come on, Jay. The stigma of guys ordering something other than coffee—“

“It’s not that,” He quickly insists, huffing a little. “Believe me, it ain’t. It just looks like an overcomplicated menu, hurts my eyes tryin’ to understand it all.”

“When Christmas comes around, you’re gonna try the Christmas Cookie. Or the candycane. It’s delicious, you’ll love it—“

“You namin’ desserts, or..?”

“Drinks. C’mon, you like peppermint.”

Jason dramatically exhales at a stoplight, bringing his drink to his lips. “I do like peppermint.”

He glanced at you, a short smile brushing along his lip as you sip your drink with scrunched leather sleeves pushed up to your wrists. “Is it good?”

“Perfectly,” you smile at him. A picture of beauty.

“Thank you, Jason.”

“I gotcha sweetheart,” Jason smiles, watching your content expression unfold as the warmth of your overtly sweetened drink fills you with such joy.

His hand settles along your thigh on the drive home.

A warm drink, a warm seat and the warm coat of a loving man. A car ride home couldn’t get better than this.

“You wanna check out Barnes and Noble?” Jason proposes.

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

[abyssal-ambience]

prefacing this with I'm not necessarily punk, but I like customizing my clothes. and i wanna help other people find stuff for battle jackets! (and other stuff) I'm not the authority on this, but I still want to give my two cents!! also don't expect much more to this, my profile is pure cringe.

If anyone is starting out and I can help, I'd like too!!

The spike/stud dilemma

one of the biggest issues i've noticed is "where do I find studs/spikes without fast fashion??" which is totally fair. something like that shouldn't have to be a minefield. obviously if you buy from a small business that re-sells them from aliexpress you're still indirectly supporting aliexpress.

im sure there ARE slow fashion alternatives and if anyone knows some please let me know so I can add it!!

BUT here's what I'd recommend.

-goodwill bins, sometimes they have old clothes or broken belts, very rare though. also any thrift store or reclaimed craft store.

-Local businesses, sex shops

-metal paper fasteners

-borrowing. it's inevitable, I know. JOANNs is definitely the best selection imo, but Hobby Lobby is better to steal from. Because They are Terrible. Michael's is OK but less selection usually. They use peal off tags usually which are easy to remove.

-also if you're feeling extra insane, hot topic uses mainly ink tags, which can be removed with heat (look up tutorials on) or just cut off a stud/spike belt. their studs are pretty easy to remove. same with bracelets, they break a lot. ofc it depends on the place whether they use beep beep tags.

-ask people for broken shit!

TEXTILES (the easy part)

-fabric samples are easy to find for free online. get whatever colors you want, i usually stick to black, white, grey and 1-3 other colors. they're usually pretty small so order around until you find the right size. you want cotton and linen, usually upholstery if you're painting on them. if you're not or you're ok working with leather, leather is easy to find too. A lot of companies mentioned how stretchy your material is something not stretchy most cases.

-FACEBOOK!! A.K.A the boomer method. This is where I got almost all of mine!! I recommend downloading FREEBIE as well! I got mine thru that, it links to facebook, nextdoor, and so on. Ofc you can pay for them- but you don't have to! I have lifetime supply of textiles basically bc of this. A lot of people get them for hobbies or work.

-the goodwill bins!!!! you can absolutely find fabric there, it's pretty common actually

-you don't need to steal this tbh it's easy to find second hand and less wasteful

PAINTING

-Facebook, goodwill, or reclaimed/used craft stores if you have them

-borrowing (same places)

-use something like Painter Eye (AR tracing app) and draw out any complex band logos etc.

-you can also use sharpies or whatever nobody's stopping you

Other stuff

-one of the best ways to find stuff is just GO FOR A WALK! Find little shiny objects!

-hardware stores are good so are army surplus

[living-dead-girl7]

Bo with a girlfriend who has issues with her dad

more notes app stuff about bo and this is purely for self indulgent purposes as I am going through it

ALSO: definitely ooc Bo. I just want this man to soft and sweet to me

warnings: daddy issues ig, crying, soft bo, occ Bo, mentions of Bos trauma

FIRST OFF. I believe Bo would most likely fall for sometime younger than him. Maybe like 5-10 years. He wants someone younger to dote on him, and he also definitely loves the idea of an innocent lover

It’s also probably because he either likes the power or he wants to protect them, buts is probably a mixture of both. 

He wants to be heard and obeyed but also aches to cradle someone in his arms and tell them it’s going to be ok. (It heals the little boy that needed to hear the same. Maybe you should do the same to him. Kiss his scars, hold his face, kiss his cheeks, let you nose gently bump into his.) 

Speaking of holding is lover, if you were feeling down whether that be thoughts of what your someone said to you or the latter, he will press your body into his and softly whisper “Bo’s gotcha, don’t worry, it’s ok…” 

Bo understands what it feels like to be belittled for the simplest of things, especially from a parent, his heart aches thinking that you had to deal with the same even if it was much less than what he’s went though

You are his sweet girl, you didn’t deserve it. Deep down I think he believes that he deserved what happened to him. He thinks his fate was predetermined and the events just served to punish him for his future, like some power knew he would comment heinous crimes

But you? No. What sick person would even think about subjecting such a sweet thing like you to such vile things. 

His gut twists when he hears you crying and trying to tell him what’s wrong, when the words of your father leave your shaking form

It breaks is heart to see you turn back into the little girl that just wanted to be loved

As you are a blubbering mess at his feet , trying to hastily wipe the tears streaming down your face as all the memories come flooding back, Bo can’t help but scoop you up into his arms.

The material of his t shirt is soft against your cheek as he holds you close. The soft cotton grounding you to him, the warmth radiating for his chest allows you to melt into him.

His fists ball up the fabric of your shirt as he hears what your father said to you,

Bo can’t help but grit his teeth and bite his tongue and he holds you

His jaw locks involuntarily after every word you utter, he can’t bear to see you like this

He resorts to shushing you and gently rocking you back and forth, hoping it brings some comfort. Is the comfort for you or him? Nobody knows.

As you look up at him with tear stained and puffy cheeks he sucks breath, before softly saying, “I hope you know I can’t understand how you remain so beautiful while crying.” 

You laugh just a bit before he sees your eyes watering again. 

To try and combat the tears, he peppers kisses across your face, each kiss accompanied by a compliment and a soft declaration of his unwavering love for you 

Once the tears are gone for good, he gently forced your gaze to meet his, “Never think of what he said to you ever again, ok? I’m not asking, I’m telling you too. You will never see him again on my watch, and I will make sure if it. You belong here, where you are loved. Nowhere else.” His fingers keep their place under your chin as he tilts it even further to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s chaste, with no meaning behind it other than his unwavering love and devotion to you. He pulls back to breathe and he can feel your breath on his skin as you chase his lips down.

Finally, he feels a pang in his heart. Not from pain, rage, or even fear, but from his ever present want to keep you in his arms with your body pressed against his. 

He wants to keep you caged in his arms forever where no one can hurt you, and you’d let him. 

[miso-sopas]

Hi so got any ninjago x reader recs? Ever since reading Wisps, it has affected my brain chemistry and now i crave for more ninjago x reader content but im picky when finding fics, so got any recommendations?

Hello there! I had fun sorting out my bookmarks and history so recommending fics might be a thing in the future?

Just to note, I am not sure how to really curate your taste so most of these are what I essentially enjoyed reading and been a fan of so forgive me if some (or all 😭 no hard feelings though) aren't your thing.

Let's see...

Honestly Wisps is the *best* so far in my opinion! I don't know if this is pure coincidental but I am also hunting for some ninjago fics to feel emotions again lmao! And I tried my best in remembering what I've read or interested in so hope these are all ok for you!

+ Second best in my opinion is the 'Infinity Series' by Joos according to their quotev because at ao3 it's orphaned [ao3; quotev book 1 & book 2 ]

Unfortunately, the author has stopped updating this fic but going back at it was really enjoyable like in the Wisps. The summary according to the first installment 'Infinite Serenity';

"[Name] has died and became reincarnated in a childhood TV show of hers. She is raised as the adopted daughter of Sensei Wu, training as the Master of Infinity. Once the plot of the show really gets going, a being resurfaces from her. They claim to have revived her and can help her unlock the memories from her previous life. Now, [Name] must rely on this being to help protect Ninjago, and discovers how her past connects with her present." TW: Suicide, self harm, child abuse, some gore and swearing (please pay attention to the tags)

Please please heed the trigger warning, I don't remember much from the content but I definitely recall the author tackling those tags in a respectful way. The love interests are Kai, Nya, Jay, Cole, Morro and platonic with Master Wu and her cousin Lloyd Garmadon. Again, second best recommended fic in my opinion.

+ Next one, this is not one series but user Circus4APsycho8 (they have ao3 and tumblr) in my opinion have the best x reader one-shots from the fandom! My all-time favorite work of theirs is 'Secret Someone' [Highschool AU! Lloyd Garmadon x reader]- this one is really sweet ❣️

Here's these links for their ao3 works and their tumblr ninjago masterlist. All simple yet sweet, I love their writing style.

+ The next one is purely Lloyd Garmadon x Female Reader titled 'Butterfly Effect' by samsea at ao3. I think they're still updating and I am a big fan of hero x civilian pairings and just they're cute and in love.

Summary: "If it was up to Y/n L/n, she would read the summer away, lost in history books and adventure novels, finding excitement in their written words. Meeting Lloyd Garmadon changed her plans. Suddenly, Y/n is living a life she'd only read about; summer romances and cotton candy dates. Perhaps this was a new normal she could get used to. But she's been fated - prophesied - to be with the Green Ninja. And where there's a green ninja, trouble usually follows." Warnings: "The butterfly effect has mature themes such as gore, violence, toxic friendships, sexual themes (no smut) and cussing. the butterfly effect is not intended for younger viewers. Trigger warnings will be placed on chapters as they are needed. if you have any questions or issues please contact me."

Again, heed the warnings but the writing and atmosphere overall is really sweet and for some reason all cuddly and sunny. IDK but maybe I am always soft for Lloyd lmao.

+ If you're up to reading only x reader head cannons then I recommend user mouschiwrites here in tumblr. Their requests are closed now but the head cannons they made are cute and entertaining, like I can definitely see this character doing that y'know. Here's their ninjago masterlist

+ Here's some honorable mentions, I believe they deserve some love too!

In the Shadow (Various love interests) by RoseRain at Quotev

Legend of the Lightspirit (Various love interests) by softie at Quotev

Actually, while finishing my school projects I'm also checking out from another user snazzilystoopid's ninjago recommendation. So far, I am enjoying their second recommended which is 'Element of Wishes' by yourfavoritecloud at quotev BUT this one is an Character x OC one so if it's not up to your alley they have few recommendations. Honestly, I am up to anything as long as it entertained my monkey brain.

Sorry for the long post! Hope these works are okay for your taste but the closest fic that gives off the same vibes as Wisps is the Infinite series. And these are all by my own opinions and the fics I remembered catching my eye. I am very much open to other recommendations or shout-outs.

Side note, there's not much Ninjago fics out there that I might let my monkey brain loose and create one myself LOOOL.

Again, thank you for asking ( I feel honored for being asked by this, I'm a fanfic nerd 🤓)

[bomberqueen17]

another sewing diary: bike shorts

ok i'm only doing this sewing diary because it's funny.

so i'm still working on dialing in my ADHD meds, right? and I trialed Ritalin and it went poorly because i had a cold and was on vacation and could not establish a routine and could not master taking them on an empty stomach and just. generally could not get any meaningful data. but i took some and eventually ran out of pills and finally, well off-schedule, managed to get another three minute, $300 telehealth appointment to get more pills. And he was like well, let's try a higher dose. Wellllll the same dose but more of it. Take two of them, one first thing in the morning and the second before lunch or in early afternoon.

heh. heh heh. i did look it up and the research suggests you don't really have to take the pills half an hour before eating, so i have managed to take at least one every day. I can never remember the second dose though. I just can't do it. It's absolutely not happening. I'd hoped the pills would give me the executive function to remember them but it is not happening.

But I did manage the second dose, today. And. Well.

Here's how it went, sewing these bike shorts. it's the Wickham Shorts/Skort/Skirt pattern, and I had already cut out the pieces.

Firstly I'd made an error in cutting when I did it on Wednesday. I'd cut the gusset twice, instead of the pocket piece. You only need one gusset, but I'd cut four. So I had to go back to the fabric and cut two pocket pieces. I managed that, though. No problem. I have spare gussets now, maybe I'll use them for lining the gusset in future versions? Why not. Can't hurt. It is nice soft cotton mesh.

I paused, and watched the sewalong, because I had a suspicion I was going to need all the help I could get. The written directions just... weren't clear to me, and I couldn't tell if it was the directions or me or what but. Watching the video helped. I thought. It seemed clearer, anyway.

First I sewed the fronts and backs together along the crotch curve. Then I assembled the side panels with pockets. I triple-checked that I had the slanted pocket panels mirror-imaged before I finished their upper hem with elastic. When I was done, I'd made two identical ones, and they were not in fact mirror imaged. D'oh. Oh well it's a wearable muslin so whatever. I did manage to assemble two different side panels with pockets, at least, so they could each go on a different side of my body. This took like, everything I had, but i got it done.

Then I was meant to match the side panels up to the front panel. The notches were wildly misaligned, and I was like ok that is Not right. So i hauled out the paper pattern piece, and was like..... ...... ......

ok so I had sewn the front panels together upside-down. i'd connected the seams of what were supposed to be the legs, instead of the crotch. Wrong side of the crotch curve. Fuck. So I cut the seam off and sewed it the other way, and set the fixed panel aside and then... picked up... the front panel

what had I just been working on????????

Oh I'd just cut apart and re-sewed the back panel. Well shit. I redid the front panel, genuinely not sure how the back panel had wound up in my hands-- I hadn't checked it yet, I don't know if I'd sewn it together upside down, I might have to cut the seam off (I was using a serger so no way was I unpicking shit and do it yet again.

But then I looked at the back panel and compared it to the paper pattern and it was correct. So it had been wrong, and I had fixed it purely on accident. OK cool. ???? sure whatever, we're good now, onward.

So now. Now I could attach the side panels to the front panel. Okay. I lined one side up and checked and re-checked and re-re-checked that it was right sides to right sides, so the seam would be on the wrong side, so it would be correct. I sewed it and

nope it was on the wrong side I had to cut the side panel back off the front. At least this was the opposite side from the earlier error, so I wasn't cutting off the same seam allowance.

Tried again. Got it all lined up and was about to sew it, presser foot down. Looked one last time and no. It was upside-down. Wrong way up entirely. I'd cut the notches off and had only remarked them feebly, so. Hang on. Backed out. Triple-checked again.

This time I got the side panel on correctly. Then the other side panel. Wait-- no it was right. I got it on right. This was now two seams in a row I'd been correct on, so this was a new record for the day. I rejoiced briefly.

(I had considered giving up and going to do something else, but I should specify, I wasn't really mad about any of this. For some reason I thought it was funny. So I was like, I hadn't thought it was possible fuck up in some of those ways I fucked up, so I should keep going to see if I can violate space time in any new exciting ways. This could be how we make some major mathematical breakthrough in this world, after all.)

Now I had to attach the side panels to the back panel, and I took my sweet time checking that over and over again. And sure enough, I managed to get that right sides together after all. I fucked up one of the seams and had to redo a bunch of it but like it was the right direction, the needle just drifted off the seam allowance. That's not abnormal at all, and I got it fixed and it worked fine.

Then I had to attach the gusset, and the directions seemed like they were going to help me, but then they failed to specify how I was going to orient the gusset in any meaningful way, so. I muddled through, almost fucked it up, didn't. Hurrah! And then I got the gusset attached on the other side. And I didn't fuck it up either!!!!

Then Chita came and sat on my work, as I was attempting to figure out the waistband elastic.

caaaat taaaaax

[image description: my beautiful elderly gray cat is sitting with all four paws daintily planted atop the white bunched-up fabric of my work in front of my sewing machine and next to my serger, very squarely so that I cannot do anything with it and must pay attention to and pet her. She looks unimpressed, but I happen to know that her ears cocked and eyes half shut is actually a happy face for her. She is purring. And shedding. A lot.]

Eventually she was satisfied, and moved on, so I got the waistband elastic sort of wonkily sewed on as per directions. And i tried the shorts on and they do fit. My first try-on before the elastic wasn't impressive but with the elastic they did snug up and look correct, and I could throw my phone in the pocket and not have them fall down or even really sag. So. Bueno!

Pattern approved, I'll make more in nicer fabric (this cotton mesh from dharma was cheap but sort of a nightmare, very insubstantial, too stretchy, obsessed with rolling, really difficult to corral) and I will try harder with the elastic so it's not wonky and then I will have some very nice bike shorts. I also feel confident that I could attach the skirt if I wanted, so I'll make one of those at some point too. That part of the pattern is dead simple so I don't feel the need to muslin it.

But boy that was a real wild ride of Fucking Everything Up. I'm not sure whether the Ritalin is to blame or what, I just genuinely could not actually wrangle my attention span enough to actually focus enough to tell the difference between right sides together and wrong sides together. To be fair there was no discernible right or wrong side to this fabric, but I don't think that would have saved me, I genuinely could not tell which way the thing should go so it didn't matter how many times I checked. I'm never great at it, to be fair. But I do manage it more times than not, usually. Except today I guess.

It was an adventure, for sure. Really idk what role the Ritalin is playing in this. I can tell you it's no miracle drug for me, alas. It doesn't make me jittery or keep me from sleeping or do any of the things it says are side effects, it just has not made me discernably less absent-minded or easily-confused or scatterbrained. So I'm not sure what it's supposed to be doing but. That was what I wanted it to do, unfortunately.

[novaqueenofmadness]

Rich Coffee

summary: don’t you just hate it when unsolicited men follow you around? well i got the stuff just for you The Glare™️

tags: bucky, being followed and catcalled for a sec

a/n: ‘domnule’ means ‘sir’ as in “excuse me sir/mister” in Romanian. if it’s wrong or there’s a better way to say it please let me know

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･' ★'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

You had been walking in circles for a few minutes now. You could feel the moist night air dampening your scalp, making your skin feel sticky, and leaving a shiny thin layer of condensation on your jacket. Worst of all you knew you were about to be running late for your shift at the café but you couldn’t help it, this really isn’t your fault. There had been some men that had stopped you earlier in your walk, catcalling and insisting that “you just have to come have some drinks with us sweetheart.” You had declined, politely telling them you were busy (your skin crawling) and most of all not interested. Annoyingly enough some people just can’t take “no” for an answer. The café is nearby, you know that, but the last thing you wanted was for some annoying tourists to know where you work and come harass you there for the rest of the night and whenever else they would’ve felt like coming. So you resorted to taking the main street that had a good amount of people, and turning into other streets at random and looping back to the main one again but they were just not letting up. Desperate, sad, sad disgusting men. You could hear them chatting and chuckling to one another, it was three guys, and occasionally they’d holler something at you, either asking for you to reconsider getting drinks with them (they would pay for everything you wanted to have[as if]), or having the audacity to complain about how long the walk felt. If you weren’t being reminded that jail was a very real place and didn’t have yourself a promise of living out of pure spite you might’ve swung around and perhaps shanked someone but alas c’est la vie. On the other hand if it’s so fastidious to them they could oh i don’t know just leave and go back to your shitty bar ya know.

You could feel your heart beating in your chest, felt it pulsating in your fingertips, heard it in your ears above all the people around you and making it quiet enough that your hearing just had to zero in on the men following you. You could hear their footsteps, every time they tripped and one of their friends helped them up laughing at them and standing them upright. There were enough people around that you felt safe but in any case you were uncomfortable and wanted them gone, for cheese sake Gabi was probably waiting on you to switch shifts and finally go home and get some sleep.

what do i do? i just want to go sit at the counter and get my paycheck. people have nothing better to do? do i call the po-? i know that jacket- oh! and i know that hat!

The thought suddenly hit you when you saw the fabric. It was that slightly worn out brown cotton with all the little scuffs, and even though its owner always had a different hoodie peeking from underneath it the black baseball cap he wore was always the same. Most recognizable of all, at least to you, was the slightly longer hair you’d spend hours wondering if it was as soft as it looked at the ends or maybe greasy from how much he wore that cap.

ok i don't know know him but better him than nothing right? right. with a deep breath you quickened your pace and with an enthusiastic approach announced yourself.

Bucky didn’t know why he decided now of all times was a good moment to take a walk. The streets were generously sprinkled with people out to enjoy whatever nightlife they could find, sitting, talking and drinking in and outside of restaurants and bars and eating from whichever vendor was successful in catching their attention. He had meant to go to the same café he would always go to at this time. It was well past midnight closer to what one may call a late night or a very early morning. As usual he couldn’t sleep, as if he ever could, and this café was quiet enough that he’d either read something to pass the time, write in his small journal (or go through it), or sometimes even doze off until it was closing time when the sun came up. The only reason Bucky hadn’t planted his bottom at his usual table right this second was because the barista on shift at the moment isn't the one he’s used to. Currently at the counter is the barista he knows is from the shift right before his preferred one (it’s not creepy he just likes to know things alright). While the barista on shift at the moment also has great customer service, Bucky knew they liked to chat with the customers a lot, something he just couldn’t bring himself to do. In contrast the barista that was usually at the café when he went in would give him his space, play the music at a softer volume and, surprisingly enough, managed to pick up on what music he tended to enjoy more. Above everything else they’d always announce themselves when they were bringing something to his table and he was distracted. Either by whistling to the tune of the music playing, saying “order up” before leaving the counter, and on the rare chance that he was napping, clinking the dishware as they approached his table. It helped with a lot of his anxiety and he was always thankful for it ever since they had caught him flinching that one time he was distracted thinking. They never brought it up or made it a talking point on the few times they had conversed with one another, but that they noticed and took it into consideration was something Bucky will remain grateful for. So maybe in actuality he does know why he’s walking around, but it's not because he’s hoping that by the time he does a round around the street the nice barista he prefers will be on shift when he’s back. Not at all and the Scarlet Witch isn’t here to prove otherwise. So ha.

Bucky will admit he was a tad bit distracted, and you should give him some credit, there’s dozens of footsteps all around as well as all the talking happening. So yes maybe he jumped a bit and went slightly ‘assassin mode’ when he heard,

“James! Hi honey i’m so sorry i’m so late, some people were holding me back” followed by someone, albeit reluctantly, wrapping their own arm around his bionic one. Bucky immediately felt every muscle in his body coiling up together ready to incapacitate whoever just called him by his name, given name that is, and was about to attack him. It however took him a full second to uncoil himself and realise he knew that voice. It was the very familiar voice of the nice barista he was absolutely not just thinking about and waiting for. Bucky turned his head to the left and there you were, wrapped around his arm looking tired and uncomfortable.

Feeling James flinch when you grabbed his arm you quickly made your touch barely there, letting go and essentially just hovering around his arm. The last thing you wanted was to make the poor man uncomfortable but you were getting desperate. Making eye contact with him you conjured up your best believable smile and quietly but hastily added “Domnule- James- Domnu- i’m really sorry there’s men following me and I don’t know what to do.” James had given you his name before at the café after a conversation where all you referred to him as was “domnule”, but you never felt close enough to him to use it and had continued to use “domnule” to greet and bid adieu whenever you interacted with him.

Bucky could see desperation in your eyes, they were beginning to get watery, and from the split second you had been pressed to his arm he felt your slight tremour that had travelled up to the nerves pressed in the socket of the prosthetic. Now that he knew there weren’t any hostiles there for him he relaxed and quickly looked around from beneath his cap.

“Sweetheart he’s not interested! How about that drink now?” Immediately Bucky saw you tense and your eyes widen, nearly on the verge of tears, he completely turned to you and wrapped his right arm around you, causing you to let go of his left and freeze even more at the sudden action but swiftly getting into character, letting go of some tension and pressing closer to his side. Whispering a small “thank you so much” under your breath and fully relaxing. You got a hold of his jacket with your right, selling the part of a couple meeting up for a later night walk.

Thanks to the numbskull's call Bucky was able to pinpoint exactly where the men harassing you were. To him they looked clearly intoxicated, two of them lean and the third with more mass. They looked slightly winded, as did you, clearly you had been walking around trying to get away, and they kept leaning on each other laughing and looking your way. “It’s no problem Doll I was about to call you, everything alright?” He made sure to look you over for any injuries or any other signs of distress he might have missed before. Thankfully you were visibly alright.

“Yeah everything’s good, we can get going please.” You were desperate to leave, you felt awful for disturbing his night but you also knew he was going to end up at your café and who better to walk you there than a 1.75 built man who always looked ready to throw someone through a window and maybe even stop a speeding motorcycle with his bare hands. You were already turning to the general direction of the café and attempting to pull the solid steel wall in front of you when you felt the arm around you pull you back closer and turn you to face him.

“Doll, I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you’re alright” Any time you and James had spoken his voice was always quiet, almost like he wanted almost no one else to hear him speak. The difference between those times and now was that he was properly holding eye contact with you, were his eyes always such a rich coffee brown? and his voice wasn’t quiet, it was soft but loud enough for anyone approaching to hear it. “I- well- yes- i’m,” the other difference was that he’s never left you this speechless, yes you found him conventionally attractive but you had never been this close to him, and he’d never made you feel this flustered. Bucky could feel the heat that was gathering at your cheeks with how close he was, later he was sure he probably would’ve gotten flustered too had he not been busy giving The Glare™️ to the men that had been following you.

You, quickly noticing the look in his eyes and without thinking, placed your hand on his cheek and turned him to look at you “James, I’m fine, nothing happened” and quietly added “and i’d really like to go start my shift Gabi is going to murder me” giggling feeling the completely tension ease off your shoulders now that you felt safe.

Bucky felt himself relax further feeling your i gloved hand cold from the weather on his now warm cheek and the thought of getting used to your laughter and the feeling of your palm passed his mind. Collecting himself and closing his barely parted lips he nodded scanning your eyes one more time to be sure “alright, let’s get going” and began to walk with you to the café, making sure to keep his arm around you and looking back at the men who had been following you earlier. Men who now stood up straight as pins and looked much paler and much more sober than they did when they first walked into the street. Bucky won’t admit to it but the rest of the tourists enjoying the night would recall three seemingly frightened men booking it out of the street as if their shoes had caught fire and they were desperately looking for water to put them out.

The walk to the café was a very short walk from there, you and James didn’t converse at all but stayed just as close throughout it. Finally getting to the café you saw it was empty, as it usually was at this time on weekends, and an annoyed Gabi sitting at the counter. They looked up when they heard the bell at the door ring and were ready to call you out on your tardy-ness when they saw it was that one hot-late night-patron who seemed to only come in during your shifts, holding the door open for you and letting you in. Gabi's mouth was visibly agape and their eyes nearly bulged out of their skull. They let out a small gasp and quickly got up, grabbed all their things and replaced their astonishment with a Cheshire-like grin. “Gladyoumadeithavefunstaysafe bye.” You hadn’t even finished blinking when Gabi was already out the door, bell still ringing and the panes on the door still trembling from how fast they made their exit.

“Bye?” Now actually inside the empty café it was just you and James. You looked back at the door tilting your head questionably, making sure you really just saw your co-worker a second ago and then made eye contact with James. You couldn’t help laughing. You were relieved to have made it to work with no other problems and your co-worker’s jump-the-gun attitude never failed to bring you entertainment of some type. Bucky also couldn’t help joining, a softer laugh, when he recalled the men’s scared faces and now your co-worker’s quick retreat was amusing in and of itself.

“Eager to leave, that one” Bucky felt calmer now unwrapping his arm from around you but unconsciously dragging his arm across your back and taking his seat by his usual table where he could see everything around the café.

“You don’t know the half of it, I'm sure if they had my phone number at hand they would’ve been spamming me,” seeing things continue as usual and trying to stop the tingle that went up your spin when he removed his arm, you began to make your way behind the counter, checking in, taking your jacket off and tying the café’s apron around you. “Give me a second domnule and I'll get you your usual order.” Already washing your hands, getting his desert and warming and mixing his coffee the way you’ve learned he enjoys it.

The sudden change to “domnule” struck a chord in Bucky. Normally he’d let it be, he was a customer and he knew you were just doing your job being formal, but, “You were calling me James just a few minutes ago, I still think it sounds better.” He always thought domnule sounded too formal for him, on top of that it reminded him of a military service he barely recalls doing (even if it was in a different language), and of the little scientist addressing each other at hydra bases. He could do without the domni. Bucky faced the table making himself busy placing his choice of book to read today and pulling out his small journal.

“Oh- That. Again thank you so much domnule-,” Bucky looked up at you as you looked up from his coffee you were preparing “James,” you nodded as he did and a small smile blossomed on your face. You began to approach his table with a quiet ‘order up’ as you departed from the main counter. “Those men were following me, for a while actually, but I didn't want to bring them here. I felt they would’ve stuck around for the rest of my shift.” You placed his order down and were ready to head back when he signalled for you to sit with him. You did a sweep around the café and yup, still empty, sat opposite him but shifted your chair closer to the wall so he could still see out into the room.

“That’s smart, people usually go to places they frequent for comfort but weirdos either stick around or come back later” Bucky took a sip of the coffee you just served him and couldn’t help but sigh. Just the way he likes it, perfect. “But you’re alright, right? They didn’t…do anything?” Bucky looked up at you again, your eyes were scanning the book and journal on the table, you looked fine but he wanted to make sure. The thought of men harassing people just for the fun of it already irks him but the thought of anyone harassing you who always makes sure there’s always warm coffee in his mug, you who’s been able to pick up on things that make him uncomfortable and comfortable and applied it to the times you interact with him, you who are just doing your best and still treating people with kindness, you and your non judgmental self, just makes him consider that perhaps committing a few more war crimes would be no biggie.

You looked up at him and again noticed his eyes, and once more wondered if his hair is really just soft as it looks or if it would be greasy from wearing that cap all the time? “I promise i’m all good James” you sent him a smile, and couldn’t help but notice the reddish colour lightly dusting his cheeks and ears from what you thought to be the cold outside. “Just some idiots that had too much to drink.” Which wasn’t anything new, the following you around had scared you a lot more since normally they wouldn’t go that far but you were glad James was at the right place at the right time. “Your first order is on me as a thanks.” You saw him about to protest before you shut him down “no take backs, I need to thank you.” Your voice shying to a softer tone and you got quickly already up and walking to the counter when James replied.

“How about I walk you back home?” Stuffing some of his desert his mouth in order to not continue talking. Bucky was sure if he wasn’t trying to hide his own flush on his ears with his cap he would’ve seen your own flustered state. He almost asked you for a date but decided he doesn’t know how long he’d be here, in any case why not try to take it slow like it would be if it were normal circumstances, at least this once. He always thought you made interesting conversation with him, and enjoyed the times you’d stop by and chat or even when you just asked him if he wanted refills or water.

“Home, you want to walk me home” you were mostly thinking out loud, processing what he proposed and eventually a small ding went off in your head and you started nodding. “Yes! Sure, yes I'd feel better walking home with you.” You could feel the apples of cheeks still warm and the smile on your lip was clearly content. Of course you found him cute, you really liked talking to him when you felt he was open to that and always found the excuse to fill his mug to get close to him but you’ve never wanted to push him out of his comfort zone, this could very well count as a dream come true.

Bucky found your smile and the sudden alto into your voice adorable and couldn’t help his own barely there smile. But it’s a smile from Bucky. What else could you ask for?

The rest of your shift you spent sitting with James talking softly and listening to the music you let him play. You thought he looked a bit confused trying to find the song on your music app but not everyone has smartphones and how hard is it to just give some guidance. James never actually touched his reading book and at times when he told a story of when he was young he’d pause to look for you to nod and quickly jot down another note in his journal. You found it endearing he looked undeniably excited every time he wrote something in there. At the end of your shift, when the sun came up, you cleaned up and just as promised James walked you all the way home. Leaving only when he managed to ask you if he could walk you to work tomorrow. You, needless to say, agreed then and the time after that and the time after as well.

//The Glare™️

[yuuchan2294]

Weirdest date ever!- Tecchou X reader.

“Will you go on date with me (y/n)?” A weird request, but you nodded and smiled after saying “Of course!”

Fast forward to the day of the date~

You looked in the mirror at least five times making sure you looked good. (You look amazing don’t worry!!) then you left and walked to the spot where you two agreed to meet up. As you approached the spot you saw the beautiful man you loved so dearly. He waved at you, and you waved back as you walked toward the man you saw he was holding white roses, not the usual color you see on roses. You chuckled at the sight. Tecchou’s eyes widened and blushed at your beauty and he smiled then said “(y/n) you look beautiful, today.” “Thanks!” You said smiling. He then handed you the white roses then said “Here, these are for you. These white roses represent pure love, like my love for you.” He blushed a little handing them to you. You blushed a little then said “Thank you Tecchou!” You were happy his intentions were pure, as you two walked hand in hand to the cafe, you two agreed to go to together. You walked into the cafe and the waitress sat you two down at a table and gave you menus, then once they came back the waitress asked “can i get any drinks for you two?” You asked for (drink of choice.) then your eyes widened as you heard him say “I’ll have a soy sauce latte please.” “Pardon?” The waitress asked confused. “He will take the same thing as me!” You said a little embarrassed. “Alright then.” The waitress replied. Then Tecchou asked the waitress “Can I have a side of soy sauce, with my drink though? Thank you.” “Of course…..” the waitress was utterly confused, but nodded and walked away they brought the drinks and said “Do you need a few more minutes to decide what you’re going to order?” You two looked at each other then you said “we’re ready.” They proceeded to take your order then asked Tecchou what he wanted and replied with “I’ll take the chicken tenders but can I have a side of soy sauce with that.” “Of course….” They said awkwardly, then walked away leaving you two together, then you saw Tecchou doing something weird, like something really weird and your mind was trying to process what he was doing. He poured soy sauce into (drink of choice.) Then you asked “Tecchou…..why are you pouring soy sauce into (drink of choice.)???!!!” “Because it tastes good (y/n).” He said in reply “Well ok long as it tastes good.” You said while stirring your drink with your straw and chuckling. Then the waitress brought your food. You took a bite then saw something interesting. Very very interesting. Tecchou was pouring soy sauce over the chicken tenders. “Well that’s another interesting combo!” You chuckled as his eyes sparkled at your chuckling then he mumbled “You really are beautiful, personally and face……” “Huh? You say something?” You asked in curiosity. “No, it’s nothing.” he smiled at you, making you blush a little. After that was a full day of fun at the amusement park he bought you cotton candy and took a little, put it in a cup, then poured soy sauce on it, as you chuckled. You two went on scary roller coasters, you laughing, and Tecchou enjoying the breeze. At the end of the day he walked you home, as you two held hands. “(Y/n) I love you today was amazing thank you.” He smiled at you warmly. “I should be saying that to you!” You said smiling, then you kissed him on the cheek and wished him a great night as he waved bye to you then putting a hand on his cheek, then smiling, when you shouted “I love you!” before going into your house and he said “I love you!” back as he turned and walked away.

꧁ 𝒯𝒽ℯ ℰ𝓃𝒹꧂

[konoa-t]

💘 for Yumi

💐🎁 🖍️ 🎤🎵🕷️🍩for Dawn, Yumi, Reuben

Yumi

She does believe in love at first sight due to experiencing it before :D though she’ll never say it, something that she definitely looks for is gentleness and patience (it takes her a bit to open up ^-^;;).

The bouquet for yumi would consist of amaranths (immortality), purple hyacinths (sorrow/regret), and gladioluses (strength). Yumi doesn’t have a favorite flower, but she would think that the amaranths were nice.

A present that Yumi would be most happy to receive is arrows! She could always use more ammo lmao. As for the gift giving, it depends on how well she knows you. Normally she’ll give things like snacks or supplies.

Advice I would give to her would be to open up a lil more! She’ll be better off with more friends.

I’d say Yumi is good at singing, but she doesn’t like doing it. If she were to sing karaoke, she might go for some kind of rock song!

Yumi’s playlist would be filled with a lot of rock or edgy songs lmao. There isn’t any particular song I associate with her unfortunately!

Unfortunately, Yumi’s biggest fear has already happened: being unable to see Oron ever again :( Though, if she were to have anything irrational, then maybe it could be something like Pistanthrophobia (fear of trusting others)?

Yumi’s favorite sweet treat are chocolate chip granola bars :DD

Dawn

Dawn’s bouquet would have irises (hope), hydrangeas (grace and beauty), and lily of the valley (purity). Out of these, the hydrangea would be Dawn’s favorite!

A gift that Dawn would love to recieve are flowers or charms for her outfits/hat. Dawn is known to be a bit heavy-handed with gifting; she will usually get people a lot of small items in a lil gift bag :D

Advice I would give to Dawn is to not spend so much time worrying about the past!

Dawn would be good at singing as well, though her singing voice is a little quiet. Her go-to karaoke songs would be some of the more romantic songs like “We Fell in Love in October” by Girl in Red.

Dawn’s playlist is more or less the same as her karaoke songs lol. A song I typically associate with her is “Dreaming of You” by Selena Quintanilla (the slowed instrumental ver.)

Dawn has Cleithrophobia, or the fear of being trapped. When she was still with her coven, she was often trapped in her room and deprived contact from the outside world. Now that she has her freedom, she never wants to go back to those times. Even to this day, she can’t even sleep with her bedroom door closed as it makes her feel trapped.

Dawn’s favorite treat is cotton candy!

Reuben

Reuben’s bouquet would have baby’s breath (innocence), honeysuckle (pure happiness), and daisies (new beginnings). Out of those flowers, Reuben’s favorite would be daisies!

The kinds of gifts that Reuben would like are medical supplies! He is always happy to receive anything, but those are his favorite! Reuben is a nice gift giver. He might not always know what to get someone, but he always makes sure to give something he put his whole heart into!

A piece of advice that I would give Reuben is to have more confidence in himself! He’s more than capable of standing on his own two feet, so he should believe in himself!

Reuben is a pretty ok singer, and he’s always up for karaoke! His go-to song is “Dancing Queen” by ABBA (hehe silly)

Reuben’s playlist would be filled with very upbeat sounding songs or oldies! One song I associate with him is “Angel Baby” by Rosie & The Originals

The irrational fear Reuben has is Autophobia, or the fear of being alone :( poor baby has some separation anxiety issues and can’t really stand even the thought of being alone.

Reuben’s favorite treat is an ice cream sandwich!

[mpc-unofficial]

We are still plushies. How long is it going to be till this wears off??? What’s happening to our bodies while we are plushies? Do we need to eat? Do we still run on fuel? Or is this pure magic? Can we starve as a plushie? Can we die in plushie form? Can we unravel?! If we bleed do we bleed cotton?!

Ok, ok Kalani you need to calm down. I’m coming over there right now.

…or not. It’s very difficult to move in this form.

Yea um… I think I’ll just try not to think too much into this.

I’m just going to continue sitting in Borb’s beak till this is over, because I can’t exactly climb out…

Don’t worry about me though, I’m just chilling.

How are you guys so calm about this?!

I’m calm for the sake of my sanity.

[frankhightower]

[Artfight] Can never be "quiet as a mouse"

H-hi, Cotton, was it? I-I assure you my interest purely theoretical... a-all academic. N-not interested in anything in your pantry, n-nothing at all! My second pre-emptive artfight attack is for Eon Exists (twt, ig, fedi) who I feel I didn't adequately thank for his attack last year! (If the linework looks weird on this one it's because inkscape lost all my brush profiles and I had to re-figure them out as I went along. Sorry! Should be OK going forward though)

[rabbitcruiser]

National Cotton Candy Day 

Head over to your local funfair for an airy, spun-sugar treat or whip up creative cakes and cocktails like cotton candy cupcakes and fairy floss martinis.

There exists in the world small clouds of utter delight, floating multicolored strands of spun-sugar all wrapped around a stick or served in a bag. Everything from the machine the produces this treat, to the men and women who operate it, and the very flavor it leaves in your mouth is purely magical.

When a treat has gained notoriety around the world and utterly defines what it means to attend a country fair, you know that it deserves a holiday of its very own. That’s where National Cotton Candy Day comes in, celebrating this best of the bestest treats!

Learn more about National Cotton Candy Day

Do you have a sweet tooth? If so, you’re going to love National Cotton Candy Day! You may think that the only type of people who don’t love National Cotton Candy Day is the dentists of the world! However, you may be surprised to learn that it was dentists who invented cotton candy, to begin with. Back in the day, it was known as fairy floss. Today, it is the go-to snack when going to a county fair. For most people, their childhood memories would simply be incomplete without this sugary delightful treat.

There are a number of different reasons why we can’t seem to get enough of candy floss! The main reason is that candy floss is essentially made from sugar, with the dye simply transforming the appearance of it. Who doesn’t like sugar? Another reason why we love candy floss is because of the appearance of it! It has a fun and exciting image. Did you know, though, that a cotton candy thread is thinner than a strand of human hair? Just because candy floss is thin does not mean it cannot be long. The longest cotton candy stretch over 1,400 meters. It was created back in July of 2009.

You may also be surprised to learn that cotton candy has different names all around the world. We love the name it has in France: barbe à papa. This means papa’s beard. It is known as suikerspin in the Netherlands, which means sugar spider. In Finland and Australia, it is still known as fairy floss. Moreover, in the UK, it is called candy floss, rather than cotton candy. If you are going to make your own cotton candy on this day, you may even want to come up with your own name for it!

History of National Cotton Candy Day

The history of National Cotton Candy Day is, quite simply, the history of cotton candy itself, and to find that history we’re going to have to dig a bit deeper than you might imagine. Unsurprising considering the number of names that the treat itself is known by, including candy cobwebs, hawai mithai, candy floss, and our personal favorite, fairy floss. So what are the origins of this treat? Well, it all depends on who you ask.

Cotton Candy is often suggested to have come into existence as a form of spun sugar in 19th century Europe, and back then it would have been as precious as gold. While today’s technology allows us to produce cotton candy with a simple machine and a little time, the process would have been incredibly labor-intensive and no doubt expensive, leaving Cotton Candy as the treat of the financial elite. Unsurprising considering that it was hand-spun at the time… Yes, you heard that right, by hand.

In 1897 the world of spun-sugar came to the masses when John C. Wharton and a dentist friend of his William Morrison (we’ll let you take a moment to suck in that irony) created a machine to make Cotton Candy and presented it at the 1904 World’s Fair. Since then it has exploded throughout the world and can be found in almost every culture you can imagine, from America to the Distant East.

How to celebrate National Cotton Candy Day

Celebrate National Cotton Candy Day by getting your favorite flavor and sharing it with friends. Ok, we’re just kidding, don’t share it, just eat it up until you can’t eat another bite, and write your dentist an apology note. Or, given that a dentist invented it, perhaps it’s you who deserves the apology note, hmm?

There are so many fun activities that you can try on National Cotton Candy Day. Of course, the goal is to always eat some cotton candy! But how about making your own? There are a lot of great recipes online that you can follow. Typically, you are going to need some food coloring, flavored extract such as raspberry extract, salt, water, corn syrup, and sugar. Recipes can differ, but these are the sort of ingredients you are going to need. You can have fun experimenting with your own candy floss recipes, and even more fun when you eat them afterward.

There are lots of exciting dessert recipes that call for the use of candy floss as well. This includes everything from cotton candy s’mores to cotton candy donuts and cupcakes! Sounds pretty delicious, right? The suggestions don’t end there either! You can make fairy floss whoopie pies, fairy floss ice cream sundaes, and much more!

Or, how about creating your own candy floss cocktail? There are lots of delicious options here too! This includes cotton candy champagne cocktails, prosecco and gin candy floss cocktails, and fairy floss martinis. There is something for everyone. Plus, if you are having friends around these sorts of drinks are certainly going to impress.

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