#roller skating to and from the set | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months

Text

Simmer #6

CH6. Spilled Milk | The Menu [4.3K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

The diner was busy.

Too busy. In fact, it was chaotic. An unusual brunch time rush on the hottest Saturday in August. The first in the month and the official marking of your two month birthday at Jim’s Grill. Not that it mattered, no one was able to celebrate it, not even yourself.

A greyhound and a private coach had pulled into the parking lot within ten minutes of each other, tourists pouring out of them in big families, clusters of hikers, campers and back water town enthusiasts ready to order everything from the menu. Jim had lit up at the sight, the bell above the diner door jingling over and over and over again, before the man looked at Eddie through the hatch and his face fell into a panicked expression.

“Shit.”

Steve was already smiling until his cheeks ached, his customer service voice ringing out through the din of the crowd as he tried his best to get everyone seated, him and Jonathan pushing tables together to cater for the family that arrived with seven kids in tow.

Jim was on the phone in his office, barking out orders before they turned into pleas, the garish orange receiver clutched between two hands before he closed his eyes, mouthed a prayer and then pumped his fist in the air. Twenty minutes later, Dustin Henderson was storming through the diner with two other teens trailing behind him, looking far more begrudging about whatever they’d obviously been roped into.

Hopper handed them aprons and promised, “cash in hand at the end of the night and an extra twenty if you get through this without breaking anything.”

A deal was made and soon, a red headed girl called Max Mayfield was flying between tables on bright green roller skates, bussing tables with a bored expression on her freckled face. Behind her, Jonathan’s little brother Will was delivering trays of drinks, narrowly avoiding Dustin as he brought Eddie’s famous stacked burgers out by the dozen.

It was chaos. It was too warm, and god, it was so loud. But fuck, the tips were great. Your apron was stuffed with bills and order tickets, your fingertips red from the amount of times you’d caught them between the metal clips you hung them from above Eddie’s station. It was too busy to talk, to chat and flirt quietly in this new way you’d both grown brave enough to do. The boy was frazzled, side by side with Argyle by the grill as the flipped patties and fried eggs and bacon, a new batch of rolls dangerously close to burning in the oven. The timer was screaming, something else was buzzing, the workstations were the messiest you’d ever seen them and there was a puddle of spilled milk by the door.

“Door! Behind!” You yelled out amongst the noise, eyes wide at the orders sitting by the hatch still to be delivered. Nancy and Robin were taking plates six at a time, hands and arms full, their balance nothing short of impressive. “Eddie, sorry, but table six wanted extra hash browns with their brunch combo not an egg—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Eddie was taking the plate from you and sliding the perfectly fried egg into the trash. He barely looked at you, something you tried not to frown at because his mouth was set in a strained line and there were beads of sweat gathering at curls on his forehead. “Argyle, time on those hash browns?” Eddie barked, eyes still on the burgers he was placing cheddar slices on top of.

Argyle was scraping crispy potato pieces around the griddle, salt and pepper and some other spices poured on top as he worked at breakneck speed. “Three minutes, chef,” Argyle called back and Eddie grunted in return.

You felt stupid, standing there aimlessly with a customer's plate in your hand and before you could get out of the way, Eddie was moving you himself. Big, wide hands on the tops of your arms, guiding you out of the path of the door just before Steve burst through it. He narrowly missed the spilled milk.

“Door!” He yelled a fraction later than he should’ve. Eddie glared at him. “Corner! Fuck, where’s the fucking syrups? Eddie? Ed! Where’s the syrup!”

You watched Eddie squeeze his eyes shut before he groaned, killing the heat on the grill just as Argyle appeared at your side to slide the freshly cooked hash browns onto the plate. You smiled, grateful. “Thank you.”

“Open your fuckin’ eyes, man! They’re on the shelf!” Eddie was furiously wiping his hands on his stained chef whites, a dish towel tucked into the ties of his apron as he started assembling burger after burger.

Bun. Sauce. Patty. Cheese. Bacon. More sauce. Lettuce. Pickles. Tomato. Fried egg. Perfect yolk. Crispy onions. More sauce. Bun.

“What shelf?!” Steve yelled back, the pantry contents rattling as he pushed his way past huge bags of sugar and jars of homemade jam. “Eddie, it’s not fucking there!”

Robin barged in the door, not announcing her arrival to anyone and the edge of it slammed Argyle as he walked past carrying piles of grease filled frying pans. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry dude!” Eddie glared at her. “Door?” She said weakly.

“Why is everyone in my fuckin’ kitchen!” Eddie yelled and diners closest to the hatch peered in at him, disapproving expressions on their faces as their kids with ketchup smeared chins laughed. “Buckley! What is it?”

“There’s like, seven tables asking for maple syrup. Where is it?”

Everyone groaned, eyes rolling and Eddie threw his hands to the ceiling. “It’s on the fuckin’ shelf, but Harrington is too blind to see them. Christ, Argyle, start getting these burgers out, Harrington fuckin’ move man—”

It all happened a bit too fast, that’s all. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, not really. Just a classic case of spilled milk. No need to cry over it, right? That’s what they said.

Argyle dumped the pans into the sink with a crash, slipping between you and Eddie’s workstation as he tried to get to the burgers before they went cold. Eddie was pushing past Robin to get to Steve who was still arguing and well, Robin might’ve stepped forward at the same time you stepped back to avoid Argyle. Plateful of hash browns held high, you tried to stop them from falling. You tried not to elbow Argyle in the face and god, you tried really hard not to completely crash into Robin despite the way her shoulder caught yours.

You stepped back again, someone yelled ‘door!’ and the sound of Max’s roller blades ripped through onto the kitchen tiles, sending everyone into a loud panic. Your foot found the puddle of milk, sneakers slipping through the liquid and the inevitable happened.

There was an awful crack when your head hit the worktop on the way down. Ass hitting the tiles, a horrible spine numbing pain licking up your back. The bones in your hips tingled with it before tears sprung to your eyes as a searing pain set in everywhere at once. You heard the kitchen go quiet for just a second, a blissful peace before the plate you’d been holding finally joined you on the floor and smashed into a hundred different pieces. Argyle’s perfectly crispy hash browns skittered under the workstation and you heard someone swear.

Then everyone was clamouring at once, hands hesitated to touch you as you brought your own to the back of your head and held it there. There was a strange kind of heat to it that made you hope it wasn’t blood, but you were too scared to look. Milk seeped into your wrinkled sock, your legs splayed out in front of you like a forgotten doll, but you didn’t feel half as pretty as one. You gazed mournfully at the smashed plate and couldn’t help the way your bottom lip twisted and trembled. God, your head hurt.

“Oh my god, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, shit— I’m sorry, I should’ve said I was coming in, right?”

“It’s fine Max, it’s not your fault—”

“How many fingers am I holding up? Can you stand? Hey, who’s the president—?”

“Lil’ Chicago slice got laid out.”

“Everyone move.”

Eddie’s voice rang out the loudest, clear and gruff with an authoritative tone that bordered on scary. Everyone listened, the kitchen and its team quietening down again when they all saw how you winced at the noise. Eddie pushed past Steve, and Robin, dropping down to hunker next to you. His brows were stitched together with concern and he tutted softly at the tear slipping down your cheek. You hadn’t even noticed, but his thumb brushed it away before anyone else could see.

He murmured your name and it sounded like a question you were supposed to answer, so you hummed, face scrunched up as more sharp needles of pain prickled at the back of your skull. Your hand was still pressed to it, scared to let go as if your whole head would simply roll off of your neck.

But Eddie’s hand curled around your wrist and he tugged gently, murmuring words of nonsense that were nothing more than soft placations. With a bit of coaxing, you let him take your hand away and you slammed your eyes shut before you could look. No one hissed or gasped, so it seemed safe enough.

But still, you asked, “there’s no blood, right?”

The boy gave you a soft smile as everyone circled closer to peer at your hand. “Nah,” Eddie told you reassuringly. “No blood, you’ll live.” Then he was cupping your chin in his hand, thumb pressed to the corner of your mouth and his brow wrinkled with more concern. “Can I take a look though?”

You wanted to say no. All this fuss and attention was making you feel too hot, embarrassment from falling starting to roll in with the pain and it mixed in your stomach to create an awfully uncomfortable concoction. Steve and Robin were still gazing down at you, eyes wide with shock and Max looked stricken with guilt, as if she thought her coming into the kitchen unannounced caused this. Argyle was already moving between everyone, sweeping broken pieces of plate and squished food out of the way.

But you nodded and let Eddie peer at the back of your head. His hands gentle as he turned you this way and that, parting your hair so he could look for any cuts. He whistled at the sight of a bump and ran his thumb over it softly. You winced and he murmured a sorry before squeezed your knee, a comforting thing that Robin raised her brows at.

“Think you can stand?” Eddie asked.

You didn’t get a chance to answer, because Hopper was bursting through the doors with a red face and seven ticket orders clutched in his hand. “Why is half my staff on the kitchen fucking floor?” He yelled. “It’s crazy out there! What’s going on?”

You brought your knees to your chest as Steve explained what had happened, gesturing to the puddle of milk, the broken pieces of plate in the trash. Eddie didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off you, even when you winced in embarrassment and tried to hide your face in your hands.

You heard Jim sigh and then he was clapping his hands and demanding that Steve and Robin went back to the dining floor. “There’s four tables waitin’ for coffee, never mind food, c’mon! And Max— Jesus, Maxine, take those skates off before someone else ends up with a concussion.”

Argyle was sent back to the grill before Hop patted Eddie on the shoulder and told him to do the same. Eddie screwed up his face, confusion wrinkling his brow. “What? No, Hop, someone’s gotta take her home.”

“Ed—” you started to interrupt, mortified at the idea of causing an upset.

Hop laughed, not meanly, just amused. “And what? You think you should be the one to take her, Casanova? You’re the only guy I got here that knows how to cook an omelette, you’re not going anywhere Munson.”

Eddie’s ears burned with the quip, cheeks flushed pink and he scowled at his boss, uncaring about the repercussions. But his attention was quickly stolen by you as you made an attempt to move, standing shakily as you protested that you were fine. The boy scoffed, holding your forearms so you could grip his, knuckles white as the shock of it all set in.

You did feel a little dizzy.

“She’s not going back out there to take orders,” Eddie told the older man as they both looked at your peaky expression, your glassy eyes.

“Well, I ain’t got the bodies to get someone to take her home, kid,” Hop shrugged regretfully. “Wayne at the garage?”

“Fishing trip,” Eddie answered sourly. “Here, c’mon, sit down, yeah?” He guided you to the stool by his station and helped you onto it, eyes filled with concern as you clutched the edge of the worktop and closed your eyes. “Should we be callin’ a doctor?” Eddie asked Hop.

“Don’t you dare,” you managed to bark at him, even though your voice sounded shaky. “I’m fine. I’ll just, I’ll just sit for a bit.”

You couldn’t hear what the two men were whispering about, but embarrassment told you it was most definitely about you. You only looked up when someone set a glass of water in front of you and you smiled in thanks at Argyle before he squeezed your shoulder and went back to flipping pancakes.

“Drink that, please,” Eddie mumbled softly as he appeared by your side. Hopper had left, standing awkwardly in the middle of the diner instead of his office as he wrote down orders listed off by a frantic Nancy. “Okay, we’ve come to an agreement.”

You snorted into your glass. “We have?” You asked as you wiped at your lips.

“Hop’s gonna take over and I’ll drive you home when this place finally calms down. Or we run out of eggs, whatever comes first.”

You rolled your eyes but the action was fond, just like the smile on your lips. You could barely bring yourself to look up at the boy for fear of giving too much away in your gaze, but when you did, you saw the same softness in Eddie’s own expression. “You don’t have to do that,” you told him. “I’ll just sit for a bit and then walk home.”

Eddie snorted and began chopping slices of tomatoes at a speed your eyes could barely keep up with. “No you fuckin’ won’t,” he told you. “Part of this agreement was that you park your cute ass where I can see you. No passing out in the walk-in, alright?”

You tried not to dwell on the compliment too much. Weeks had passed since the night you’d gotten high with the boy, too close on his bed, too close to doing something that was interrupted. You’d been back to the Munson trailer since, but you spent evenings on the sofa with both Eddie and Wayne, yelling at Alex Trebek and trying out new dishes that Eddie created for late nice dinners. No other attempt at a kiss - if that’s what had been about to happen. No other attempt at asking for a date - if that’s what the boy had been about to say.

“Are there any other conditions to this agreement?” You asked, wincing when Argyle dropped a pot into the sink. “Or did you just sell my soul to Jim without me knowing?”

Eddie laughed as he threw some mushroom halves onto the grill, dropping in some butter until they sizzled. “Sweetheart, c’mon now, you did that yourself when you agreed to work in his hellhole.” Eddie moved away just for a few seconds, long enough to return with a new glass of ice water that he replaced your empty one with. “But he did say you’re not allowed to sue him.”

You smiled, laughing weakly because your head still throbbed and the diner was too loud but Eddie Munson was grinning at you with his dimples on show and a stray curl falling into his big, brown eyes.

“Damn,” you tried to joke. “There goes my plan.”

—————

You’d been slumped on the stool for the best part of two hours before someone roused you from your semi sleeping state. Heels of your hands pressed to your closed eyes, the sounds of the diner sounding further and further away as you let yourself be lulled into haze by the sounds of Eddie and Argyle talking over the sizzle of the grill, the popping of bacon, the whir of a whisk.

Then, a palm on your back, wide and warm. You startled only slightly, sitting up and reappearing from behind your hands to see a bowl of soup being slid in front of you. A deep red, flecked with cracked black pepper and smelling like tomato and basil. There was a swirl of some cream in the centre, artfully placed, and a spoon was dipped into the middle of it.

“Eat up,” Eddie instructed softly. “Then I can try ‘n’ find you some Advil or somethin’, Nancy probably got some stashed somewhere.”

You eyed the soup with a sudden greed, mouth watering at the aroma, your fingers finding the spoon. “You didn’t even ask if I was hungry,” you gently scolded the boy.

Eddie knew what it meant. ‘Thank you. You shouldn’t have.’

“Don’t start,” he grumbled back, already going back to cracking more eggs into a bowl. Only six this time, which meant service must’ve been slowing. “You’ve had a coffee and half a slice of toast all day, eat your fuckin’ soup.”

You knew what that meant too. ‘You’re welcome. Please eat, so I stop worrying.’

So you ate and Eddie made omelettes, folding each so meticulously that you couldn’t help but watch. Butter on top, chives diced, fresh tomato and Italian ham in the middle. He knew you were staring, he always did. But now he smiled instead of scowled, let his gaze flicker to you every time he put his knife down and he nodded appreciatively when your spoon scraped the last of the soup from the bowl.

“Good?” He asked like always, sliding the omelette dishes out of the hatch for Steve to deliver to the waiting tables.

Jim was back in the office and the younger kids were long gone, sent home with leftover doughnuts from the pastry cabinet and an extra twenty in each of their back pockets. Regular slowness has resumed. Only Mr Creel sat at the bar, under the television as always, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee he wouldn’t let Jonathan refill. There was a family at one table, an older couple at another, and three teens sharing a plate of fries in a booth at the back.

You nodded, humming. “So good, Eddie. Best soup I’ve had.”

Eddie grinned and tried to hide it, bashful and pink in the face at your praise. There was a lull in the kitchen as Argyle disappeared into the walk-in and for the first time that day, there was nothing on the grills in danger of burning. So the boy cleared his station and leant his elbows on it, so close to you that you could let your hand touch his, if you’d felt brave enough.

“How’s the head?”

You made a face at the reminder, reaching back to gingerly feel at the small lump there, tender and embarrassing. “It’s fine,” you told him. “Just another injury for the collection.”

Eddie snorted, knowing about your bumps and bruises you’d gathered working in the diner. You were insistent someone was moving table eight a few inches to the right each day, just to fuck with you and your hip. “Gonna have to keep you in a bubble.”

You smiled, “can’t feed me in a bubble, Munson.”

Another grin from Eddie, shy and pretty and so incredibly genuine. The boy that had scowled at you from the minute you’d appeared now couldn’t hide how happy you seemed to make him. Pink cheeks and dimples, a shine to his eyes that made your knees a little weak and you wanted to tell him then, right there, kiss me please.

Kiss me without smoke between us, kiss me without having an excuse to be close. Kiss me ‘cause you want to.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right, that seems— that would be, uh, less than ideal,” Eddie coughed, suddenly nervous. He straightened up and took his hands away from the counter, away from any ideas you had about holding them in your own. “I could, uh, I could - y’know - ask you if you wanted to grab dinner later, instead.”

You sucked in a breath, eyes wide. You didn’t say anything, you just blinked and your silence urged Eddie to fill it, so he rambled on further, voice coming out rushed and a little rough. “Like, I mean, so I can make sure, you know… you eat. God. And you don’t hit your head again, ‘cause you could totally have a concussion and that would su—”

“Eddie?” You interrupted, heart beating too fast, your chest too tight. It felt like it was ready to crack in two, ready to bloom. Excitement was caught in your throat, maybe hope. “Are you asking me on a date?”

The boy faltered and then smiled, a dopey, lopsided thing that you were sure was the most endearing sight you’d ever come across. Those cheeks went pink again and suddenly he was the furthest thing from the grumpy line cook that grunted his greetings to everyone. But maybe, you guessed, he just didn’t do that to you.

“I’m definitely trying to, yeah.” Eddie grinned then, only once he saw your smile too.

Giddy, feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush, you squinted at him, eyes crinkling in the corners with a new type of joy. You wanted to laugh at his attempt, his shyness for a change instead of your own but you couldn’t keep it together. You were bursting at the seams, chest splintering as the butterflies roared. You felt breathless, you felt warm, you felt like you could look at yourself in the mirrored edge of a frying pan and watch yourself glitter.

“I’d love to,” you told him, soft, quiet, happy.

The boy lazed back against the worktop, the stainless steel between you littered with spilled sugar and the lonely top of a carrot. He played with the edge of his dish towel that was tucked into the front of his apron, narrowed his eyes at you comically and tried to contain his own grin. He was beaming.

“You’re not just saying that ‘cause you’re concussed, right?”

You laughed, a bright, sharp sound and you shook your head. “I’m not concussed.” You hummed, happy. “And even if I was, I’d still wanna go on a date with you.”

Eddie looked brighter than the sun.

—————

That evening, Eddie picked you up outside your apartment with freshly washed curls and a shirt that didn’t have any rips in it.

His boots were clean and his jeans weren’t creased and you’d have said something about it all if you weren’t as nervous as he looked. With what appeared to be a permanent flush on his cheeks, he hopped out the van as he saw you lock up, jogging round the front so he could open the door for you.

“You look nice,” he murmured as he helped you in, his hand holding yours, his gaze unable to stop from wandering over all the bare thigh your dress showed off.

A summery thing, cherry red with a hem that erred on the side of almost too short, with short sleeves and a pretty frilled neckline. It was lower than your uniform, showing off more skin and cleavage than he’d ever seen before. You’d changed seven times between getting out of the shower and watching the window for Eddie’s van, throwing your rejected outfits on your bedroom floor as you stood in your pyjama shirt, wondering if it was far too presumptuous to change into your best lace underwear.

The butterflies inside your ribcage were rattling.

“Thank you,” you answered politely and you let yourself look at him too, like you were allowed to now. He still had the rings he wore outside of the kitchen, a plain black T-shirt that smelled like he always did, like lemongrass and freshly spritzed cologne. “You look nice too.”

He went pink at your words and duked his chin to hide his smile. And when he got back into the driver's seat, you looked at him expectantly, nervously.

“So, uh, there’s only really one place to go for food in this town,” Eddie cleared his throat awkwardly and he smiled, nose scrunched. “And rumour has it, the chef is out on a hot date…”

You laughed, tension broken for a second or two and you hummed, nodding. “Hot date, huh?”

Eddie nodded furiously, letting his eyes dip to look over your bare legs, the short hem of your dress, scarlet against your skin. He looked bravely, not trying to hide it the way he used to. “The hottest,” he confirmed.

“Where are you taking me then?” you asked softly, leaning your cheek against the seat. It was dangerous looking at him like this, like you wanted him, like you were over trying to hide it. Your workplace crush had bloomed into something else, something more and it made your chest ache.

“Wayne’s not home,” Eddie replied just as soft, just as quiet. His gaze kept falling to your mouth, the way it turned up in the corners. “I have it on good authority that the food at Casa Munson is top tier.”

It made your stomach flip, the idea of being alone with the boy. It barely happened, a rarity, really. The butterflies in your stomach were pushing at your bones, gnawing to get out. You were dizzy with it.

“Yeah?” you smiled at him, putting Eddie’s own nerves at ease. “Think you could get us a table?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #linecook!eddie

2K notes · View notes

headspace-hotel · 8 months

Text

I think that traditional knowledge (using this term loosely, to mean any experience based knowledge that might be orally shared and/or passed down) is not just Science in a different form, nor is it a simpler, earlier stage of a developmental path toward Science, nor is it an inferior form of knowledge.

When you are an apprentice of Nature, constantly seeking Nature in your surroundings and intentionally OPENING YOUR EYES to what moves around you, knowledge accumulates in a slow drip, like water dripping from a stalactite.

Individual days and moments of observation pull together strands of the web of life that entangles you. One day I see this bird eating from this bush; one day I see this butterfly land on this flower; one day I see that this leaf catches fire more readily than that; every day I see organisms interacting with one another and their environment, I see new environments and new interactions of organisms, and slowly I begin to see the RELATEDNESS OF EVERYTHING, an understanding that is constantly completing and filling in and becoming deeper.

The scientific framework allows me to pinpoint these observations and pose hypotheses to myself which I can then intentionally investigate and attempt to falsify. It makes the process of gaining understanding more methodical and directed.

But formalized science investigates questions within little enclosures. The learning that happens in a scientific experiment is not only limited by the boundaries of the question being investigated and the exclusion of extraneous variables (which are of course, fundamentally important parts of science), but by the idea of Science as a specific activity that a person is either doing right now or not doing right now, like playing baseball.

A baseball player has times when he is playing baseball and times when he isn't. It's the same with most jobs and hobbies. So someone who is a Scientist might be tempted to have times when she is doing science and times when she isn't. The knowledge within her might therefore be tempted to have times when it is being developed and times when it isn't.

But my dad was a pastor. The nature of his job was not in the act of preaching a sermon (which can be done from an outline you got online—shouldn't, but can) but in preparing sermons, going to events, being around to answer questions, visiting sick people in the hospital, spending long hours in study seeking spiritual insight, spending time with the youth at arcades and roller-skating places and the like, being present, being.

Being a farmer is a lot similar. Your life is defined by your relationship with the life-forms you care for in a way that can never be shelved or set aside.

The traditional way of attaining knowledge and understanding of Nature is a RELATIONSHIP that is developed and deepened in every interaction between you and your LIVING surroundings

This means that you also cannot learn the ways of the plants by Going To a Specific Place that you consider to be Nature—you must realize that EVERYWHERE IS NATURE, and the endless movement, change, and chaos of life can be seen in the dandelion and spotted spurge of the sidewalk. Anywhere you see change that was not changed according to an Idea of how the space should be, but that happened according to forces outside of human purpose—a weed popping up in a lawn, a tree that was not planted, a planted shrub drying up and turning brown, mushrooms emerging after a rain, a tree blown down in a storm, a hillside eroding, a leaf being blown in the wind, the community of plants along a roadside or in a ditch—that's Nature, and She Will Teach You.

Learning is not a job—it is a relationship, so even when you go to the walmart, Nature will show you something in the cracks of the pavement and the sad parking lot trees

#nature #the wonders #thoughts #just been thinking about this

870 notes · View notes

taintandviolent · 3 months

Text

Bitchin' ; Peter Maximoff x rollerskater!reader

summary: You always wear your silver rollerskates. But, when Peter Maximoff decides to check out the roller rink's arcade, and spots you... It's fate. At least, Peter thinks so. word count: 4.2K words! w a r n i n g s: brief use of Y/N, shameless smut, smut without plot, public fingering, public handjobs, dry humping, kissing, neck kissing. a/n: requested - I lost the original ask but the anon wanted a rollerskating reader who Peter was obsessed with! Honestly, this is my very first Peter fic so if there's anything that isn't in character or canon please mind your business and pretend you do not see it.

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

The disco ball twirled above, casting little squares of light over all the skaters like pieces of confetti. You grooved to the music while carefully maintaining your balance. The rink was buzzing with celebration; at least three birthdays amongst other parties were being held there.To you, it was merely another Saturday night. Skating had become more or less a therapeutic activity for you; it was a way to unwind after the day. The stresses floated away behind you as you circled the rink. Thankfully, it was also aerobic in nature, so you were getting your daily exercise in as you decompressed. Not to mention, it was funner than hell.

So, this wasn’t Peter’s usual hangout. But, the rink had a Centipede and a Dig Dug machine, so why not? The light from the machines blinked, reflecting off his eyes. New highscores were easily beaten when the bar was set so low. Come on! Did they even try!?

To his right, he heard a cacophony of giggles and chattering as a cluster of young girls sped his way, their hands full of drinks. To avoid a collision, Peter was forced to turn around, making way for the girls as they passed. And as he did, two flashes of silver caught his eye.

Those same two flashes of silver zipped around the rink, catching the neon lights from above. Peter’s dark eyes followed them as they circled and eventually, trailed up the shapely legs that they were attached to. You had a bangin’ body, that much was evident. He watched you as you skated around and around, your legs weaving in and out of each other with skill. You weren’t hugging the perimeter, scared like some of the other girls. You were confident, and in your own, bodacious skating world.

Nah, he thought. No way. But… What if fate is totally intervening, dude? What are the chances that I clock a girl with silver roller skates if it wasn’t meant to be? C’mon…

As his thoughts raced, you veered off from the throngs of skaters, heading towards the wall near the tables. Chalking it up to destiny, Peter couldn’t argue with himself any further. It was now or never. The moment to strike, the moment to make his move…was right now.

Your skates hit the wall with a thunk-thunk. Your drink was right where you left it, and still cold enough to sweat. As you sipped, you spotted a guy on a mission, making his way in your direction, maneuvering through people as they passed him. Silver hair? Silver… everything, really. Interesting coincidence. You turned around, unsure, but nobody else was seemingly aware of him. So, you weren’t mistaken, he was headed straight for you.

Once he got to you, he said two words. Two words.

“Bitchin’ skates.”

That same dorky smile that he wore as he made his way over to you was still plastered on his face as he stood in front of you now. The same one that, contrary to his probable assumption, you weren’t turned off by. Quite the opposite; you thought it was adorable, endearing even.

“Uhh…” You brought the plastic straw to your lips, buying yourself time. You sucked in a mouthful of soda, raising your eyebrows at him and he raised his back, grinning inwardly. Something about you had clearly caught his attention; he wasn’t leaving. Unfortunately for him, you were ten kinds of anxious and fourteen kinds of nervous when it came to talking to guys. You leaned over the wall, looking at his feet; a pair of silver shoes. You gulped down more soda, and pulled the straw from your lips.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, babe. Just cause I’m not skatin’ doesn’t mean I’m uncool.”

You sniggered, rocking back and forth on your skates. You set the soda down on the same table you retrieved it from and gave him your undivided attention. Even though you hadn’t really thanked him for the compliment, it didn’t matter, he wasn’t deterred. “So uh…” He leaned in, angling his face towards yours. Your gaze flitted to his lips for a nano-second, before you darted back up to his eyes. “My name’s Peter.”

He’d clearly expected you to tell him your name, but you remained silent, clamming up at the very heavy flirtation that he was laying on you. Had you really just forgotten your own name? Clearing his throat, Peter inched closer still, now practically leaning over the wall that separated the rink from the dining area.

“You come here often, nameless cutie?” Okay… that was cheesy. Too fast for you to notice, he rolled his eyes, silently chastising himself. Much to his delight though, you didn’t skate off, laughing hysterically, shucking him off like some idiot on the school yard. You stuck around and gave him a cutesy, coy little nod that went straight between his legs.

“Yeah… I do. Every Saturday night. Um… My name’s Y/N.”

“Guess I need to start comin’ around on Saturday nights…”

“Why’s that?” You questioned, pumping the straw in and out of the lid, the plastic creaking with the action. You knew the answer. You were willingly lining him up for a compliment that you’d let land real nicely. “Hm?”

“Well…” He shifted his weight, leaning his elbow on the railing. “Clearly all the babes come through on Saturday nights. Case in point.” He gestured to you with a nod of his head.

“Thanks,” you muttered to the floor. Some people scooted around you, bracing themselves on the wall. New skater, obviously. Peter paid them no attention; his gaze was iron-locked on you.

“For the compliment on your skates or that absolutely bogus pick-up line I just tried?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a blush crawling up your neck. “Both… actually. Silver has always been my favourite colour.”

Now Peter was the one blushing. “Was that a… compliment? Or uh…”

“Could be.”

“Could be?”

“Yeah.”

“What do I gotta’ do to make it one?”

You considered this. Really, he didn’t have to do anything more than what he’d already done. He was silvery and ultra-cute, and the way his lips curved up into a smile every time he looked at you had your knees turning to Jell-o. Plus, he was wearing a RUSH shirt. RUSH was cool.

“Skate with me.”

Say less, he thought. Before you had a chance to process it, Peter raced over to the rental counter, coming to a halt just before the swinging door. The girl behind it was too involved in a fashion magazine to attend to him - and if he was polite enough to wait, the speed at which she was gonna’ move would’ve been excruciating. Peter snatched a pair of skates in his size, tucked his shoes in one of the empty cubby holes and took off back towards you. You had just barely finished blinking by the time he was sitting at your table, arms folded on the railing.

When you opened your eyes, he was sitting instead of standing. You furrowed your brows and peeked over the wall. He was laced up, ready to go.

“How did you…”

You knew. Even though he hadn’t disclosed it and you hadn’t really seen him move, you knew. You’d heard about mutants, but the thought never captivated you enough to look too deeply into it. To you, they were just regular people – well, not regular people – but people all the same. People with lives, people with feelings.

But this guy… this guy was really cool.

“Well, come o–”

Again, before you’d even finished blinking, he was in front of you, cheesing. “You were saying?”

You weren’t sure how else to acknowledge his power, so you’d do it honestly. You nodded once and said: “Bitchin’.”

“Bitchin’,” he affirmed. “Bitchin’.”

You dipped forward, reaching for his fingers. His large hand was warm and inviting, and immediately enveloped yours. For a moment, the two of you didn’t move. The second he laced his fingers in between yours, your arm went numb, buzzing with electricity. You weren’t sure whether or not that was a part of his mutantness, or just… your own body responding to this very cute guy touching you. Probably the latter, but you weren’t about to sever the connection to discuss it.

Peter looked flushed, but masked it with a charming smile and a quirked silver eyebrow.

“Oh, we’re holdin’ hands now?”

“Well, yeah,” you started, dismissing it as though it was the most normal thing in the world. You beamed, flashing him a smile before pulling him into the flow of skaters. It was hard to imagine that you, with your utterly awkward sense of self, had suddenly taken the lead and were now in control of the situation. “You know how to skate?”

“Uh… sorta.”

“Well, here.” You spun around, now skating backwards. You held out your free hand, wiggling your fingers towards his. Peter did a double-take – was he really going to be holding both your hands? No questions asked? His already-fast heart thudded in his chest. This was too easy. Fate, man. It’s fate.

“Come on, don’t be shy. You had enough confidence to come up to me earlier… don’t back out now.”

“Wha-?! I’m so not!” He looked offended. You couldn’t help but laugh at that, and grabbed his hand at the wrist, pulling him closer to your body. You then noticed that his knees were locked in true beginner form. He looked stiff and slightly unsure.

“Relax, baby…” You cooed, coaxing him through the motions. “Just move with the groove…”

Slowly, Peter’s dilated eyes crawled up from his skates to yours, and up your divine lookin’ legs. They made their way up your torso before finally coming to a stop on your face. Inside, his heart was hammering against his ribs. Had you just called him baby? Baby? Hoh’ boy…

Peter composed himself from the impromptu melting you’d caused, he straightened up, relaxing his knees to push into the skates. As the two of you had abruptly picked up speed, you glanced behind you to make sure you weren’t going to run into anyone. Thankfully, he seemed to be navigating pretty masterfully. Peter had his bearings. In fact, thanks to his quick reflexes, he’d gotten his bearings approximately seventeen seconds ago, but you didn’t need to know that. That might’ve prevented the absolutely stellar physical contact he was experiencing now.

“Yeaaaaaahaaah, Peter! Just like that.” You cheered him on, happy to see that he was loosening up and moving in a much more natural way. For Peter, your smooth voice was doing wonders… but in the wrong way. Or the right way. No. Right way for the wrong situation. Okay, so what? Your syrupy, praising voice was going straight to his crotch.

“Hey, can we uh… Can we go faster?” He asked. You nodded, preparing yourself to take the lead, but before you could make the necessary changes in speed, Peter spun you around, snaking his arms around you from behind, hands resting gingerly on your abdomen, just above your hips. It was a risky move, he knew it, but it just felt so right to do… and after a few seconds, waiting on bated breath, no protests fell from your lips.You weren’t about to shoo him off, not with the way his grip was sending shivers up and down your spine.

“Ready?”

You nodded, though you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He continued moving his feet, skating them back and forth. With a quick motion that pressed his chest into your back, Peter took off, narrowly avoiding some dude in neon dolphin shorts. He pushed you, navigating both your bodies around the rink at record breaking speeds, speeds so fast that nobody else even registered you two moving. Around you, people were still moving, but slowly. So slowly. You were nothing but fluffs of air as you passed them. It was terrifying; you’d never moved that fast on roller skates in your life.

After a few laps, you gripped his veiny forearms pressing them tight against your hips. “Okay! Okay!”

Peter tipped his toes, letting the stops drag against the polished linoleum floors. You two slowed down abruptly until you were back in sync with the rest of the rink’s patrons. Your hair was wind-blown, tousled locks fluttering back into place.

“You okay?”

“Oh my god,” you breathed. “That was…”

“Wicked?”

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed, wetting your throat. You had some other choice words, but you weren’t about to crush his spirit. His toned chest was rising and falling into your back, and for a second, you leaned your head backwards onto his shoulder. You caught yourself in that embarrassing moment of weakness and jerked your head forward again. “S-sor–”

As quickly as you two had stopped, Peter pivoted you on your skates, and crushed his lips against yours, pressing into them tightly. His lips were warm and melted into yours, but the shock of the kiss had you frozen. After a few painstaking seconds, he pulled away, a look of terror plastered on his face. His eyes searched yours, desperately.

“Shoot… Did I totally misread that?”

You licked the remnants of him off your lips, humming in satisfaction. “No… no you didn’t.”

Peter bounced on his heels, nodded, and glanced at your lips again, wanting so desperately to be back against them, but he’d play it cool, and wait for you to make the next move.

“Peter, I um… think you’re really cute. But next time… can you give me a warning when we’re gonna’ go hyperspeed?”

“Next time?” He chuckled low, rubbing the back of his neck. He liked the implications that there’d be a next time. “Y-yeah, sure, babe.”

Silence fell between you two, and while neither of you spoke, a lot was being said. The way he gazed into your eyes, the way that you gazed back… that was the thing about chemistry. It found its way in, no matter how quiet you were. Your heart fluttered in your chest, your stomach muscles tightening instinctively as you looked at him. Peter’s strong hand flexed on yours, gripping your fingers and yanking them towards him. The stops on your skates bumped into his, knocking him backwards slightly.

“Peter...” you started, nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah?” Bless him. The eager, almost desperate look in his dark brown eyes told you he was ready for whatever you were gonna’ throw his way. Preferably, another heated kiss.

You wanted to, desperately, but swallowed that fiery urge, suddenly hyper-aware of the people zipping around you. At present, no one was tossing insults your way, but if you two lingered on the rink any longer without skating, you suspected they would. Nervously, you chewed your lip. “We should probably um - get off the rink...”

He agreed with an excited but wordless nod, and towed you in the direction of the opening. Adjusting to the feeling of carpet beneath your feet, you moved behind him, thankful for his hand.

As you passed the video games, both of you stopped in front of one of the party rooms. This one, unlike the others, was off to the side, and dark. Inside, there was nothing but a table with some chairs, and a few leftover party decorations pinned to the walls. Both you and Peter stared at the empty room.

“Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”

“I dunno. Just what exactly are you thinkin, Peter?”

He smirked.

By the time you’d exhaled, Peter had twisted the handle, tugged you inside, and pressed your back gently against the door, shutting it. He hovered over you, face inches from yours, looking down at you with a wanton, heated gaze. With one hand flattened against the wall by your head, Peter flexed the muscles in his forearm, showing off just slightly.

“Hey,” you said, gazing up into his dark, inky pools.

“Hey back.”

You wasted no time in kissing him. This time though, you went at him with parted lips, exhaling over his lips. Peter moaned softly into your mouth, overcome by your scent and taste. Everything about you was unreal; from the way that you tilted your head to get close to him to the way that your fingers clawed at the front of his jeans, desperately hooking into his belt loops to pull him closer to your own hips. Coming up to you was the best decision he’d made in weeks. Maybe months. Maybe even friggin’ years.

Peter’s tongue swirled around yours, pausing to pepper softer kisses on your plush lips every few seconds. “Mmmm-hm…” Another eager kiss. “Babe, you’re totally…”

“What, bitchin’?” You finished for him, teasing.That had been the word of the night, seemingly.

In response, Peter kissed you again, pulling you in at the waist. He rutted his hips against you desperately, grinding his half-hard cock into your groin, hungrily seeking out friction. At the whisper of his powerful thrust, you paused, flattening both hands on his chest.

“Wait, lemme take off my skates,” you started. “I don’t want to fall…”

“If you do, I’ll catch ya’. Promise.”

The confident lilt in his voice was enough to make you trust him, or maybe it was the way that he completely wiped your stream of consciousness by brushing the bridge of his nose against the nape of your neck, peppering tiny kisses along the feverish flesh.

Peter bucked his hips against you again, forcing himself against your fingertips, pressing them into the denim. You took his enthusiastic dry humping as a green light, and unbuttoned his pants. You followed with the zipper, and you heard Peter mutter something under his breath. Whatever it was, it sounded massively excited.

“What was that?” You asked, coyly.

You wrestled with his jeans, fingers exploring deeper, slipping through a bush of silver and ventured further down, stopping only to take hold of his cock at the base. It was hot to the touch, and now, rock hard. Really…. You thought, smirking to yourself. His interest in you wasn’t superficial, this dude really wanted you. You gripped a little harder, watching intently as the muscles in his jaw feathered and clenched.

“I said uh, um… it was… Hoh’, babe…” You started stroking and Peter’s head lolled back between his shoulders, a broken moan hitching in his throat. “Hoh’ my god…”

You kept stroking him, your thumb massaging the veiny underside of his swollen cock. Every pass of your fingers brought another breathy whimper from deep within his throat, and your core tightened further. He was putty in your hands, desperate, whining and begging for more.

“Just like that, babe…” He bucked his hips rhythmically and brought his other hand to the door, bracing himself.

“Want me to go faster?”

He looked at you, quirking a brow as if to say, “Really?”

So you did. It took all of three seconds for Peter to start quivering above you, almost vibrating. Peter dropped one hand, his thick fingers dragging across the ruched elastic of your shorts, pads fluidly slipping over the satin fabric.

“Can I…” He paused, clearing his throat. “Can I touch her?”

You loved that he called her her. Cute. You exhaled a moan through your nose and bit down on the corner of your lip. Meeting his gaze again, you nodded excitedly. Peter’s hand pressed against your stomach and dove downwards, slipping over the front of your shorts. At first, he stroked her from the outside, feeling the warmth that radiated from between your folds. But he moved fast, in all ways, and soon, he craved a different sensation. Quickly finding the waistband of your shorts again, he dipped inside to find the hem of your underwear, pausing only to run his finger along it, before slipping past it.

“Ohhhh…” He groaned, feeling the blistering heat of your cunt, and the beginnings of the pre-cum that had made its way up to your folds. “Oh, okay. Silver really is your favourite color.”

You laughed into his neck, walking your feet out slightly to spread your cunt for him. His fingers grazed your clit, circling it delicately a few times before he moved to your slit, manipulating the wetness that greeted him and coated his fingers. Peter inserted his middle finger, pumping it in and out carefully a few times. You moaned through closed lips, a weak attempt at muffling the sounds, should anyone hear.

“Wanna’ see something cool?”

You, breathless and starting to sweat, nodded.

“Fffuck, you’re so wet… uh, sorry - okay. Prepare to be wowed.” He hoped. At least, he was fairly certain that you’d never experienced what he was about to do.

Half a second passed. Then Peter’s finger slid in and out of you so fast it almost felt mechanical, drilling into you at inhuman speeds. Your jaw dropped, pupils dilating. He wasn’t joking – but maybe selling himself short. You were a little more than wowed.

Abruptly, you pressed your ass against the door, pulling his slippery fingers from you. “St-stop, I’m gonna’ c-cum if you keep doing that.” Shocked at your honesty, you felt your face flush.

“Oh?” He slipped another finger in, murmuring happily at the way your slick walls clenched around them. Peter brought his thumb forward so that with every pump of his fingers, the pad of his thumb bumped into your puffy, tender clit. You couldn’t help but whine then, the dual-stimulation overwhelming your senses.

He continued, winding the coil in your tummy tighter and tighter. You moved into him just a little bit closer, plunging him in just a little bit deeper and wrapped your free arm around his broad shoulders, desperate to bring your bodies tighter together. Although his hand enveloped your pussy, you could feel the repeated grind of your own hand as you jacked him off.

Peter continued, mercilessly, delighted that he had you coming undone in front of him. Sweat streamed down your neck, winding its way down into your cleavage – which, by the way, he was absolutely devastated he couldn’t see. His gaze was locked on your tits then, watching as they rose and fell with each laboured breath you took. Suddenly, your hand went slack around his dick. You focused on nothing in particular as white hot flashes darted across your vision. Peter groaned into your neck as you came around his fingers, warm, wet…

Your knees buckled, the wheels of your skates rolling forward. Just as he promised, Peter caught you strongly with his free arm, and pinned you against the door with a soft thud. You gasped, gripping him hard, pleasuring him with a new found fervour. You stroked his cock with long, deliberate strokes, paying special attention to his reddened head. Pre-cum, lots of it, leaked from the slit, and you eagerly spread it until his whole cock was slippery. Peter squirmed against your body, his fingers still slipping in and out of you at high-speed.

“I’m gonna’... I’m gonna’....”

“Oh, so you cum fast too?”

Your teasing was all it took for Peter to lose it. Every muscle in his body clenched, his eyes rolled back as his dick spurted sticky, white ropes over your hand and into the fibres of his jeans. You loosened your grip, letting the natural throb of his cock bump into your stomach, leaking against your skin.

Knock. Knock.

In a nanosecond, Peter had both of your appearances returned to normal as though a mutual jerk-off session hadn’t just happened. But ohhhhhh, it had. It definitely had. Even though the boner had totally faded, his cock still felt like it was throbbing. He laced his fingers with yours, and threw open the door, pretending to search for the light switch.

“Hey, this room is off-limits…” The girl said, looking slightly annoyed. Peter recognized her; the same one from the rental booth. Guess she finally had to make her rounds.

“We were just – “ you stammered, trying to find a feasible excuse.

“Checking out the room for a party.” Peter interjected. “Is food provided?”

The girl seemed taken aback by such a simple question. “Uh… y-yeah. We do pizza or hot dogs.”

“Sick, thanks.”

With that, Peter yanked you from the room, skating back towards the arcade machines. You looked out towards the rink; it had slowed down substantially, and likely, would close soon. Time had flown while you were in there with him.

Once you two had stopped, you turned to him, running a single finger down the front of his shirt. It was still damp and warm with his sweat. A small smile curled its way onto your pink lips.

“You got a pen?”

Thwip. Thwip. He was back, fingers wrapped around a blue pen, which he held out to you proudly. With a satisfied smile, you took his hand, flipped it over, and wrote your number on the inside of his palm, near the meat of his thumb.

“Call me?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Not maybe. He was for sure gonna’ call you. He’d call you the second he got home – well, no. Maybe not because he’d get home way before you. But. He shook his head slightly, dislodging the distraction.

If Peter had his way, he’d bust his next nut inside of you.

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz / @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @babygorewhore / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @slvt4jamesmarch / @poltoreveur / @feefymo / @evpeters87 / @lacucarachapisser

Ask to be added to taglist for future fics!!

#okay okay okay I'm nervous as HECK but here it is!!!! i hope the anon who requested this sees this!!! thank you guys for bein so supportive!#Peter Maximoff x reader #Peter Maximoff x you #Peter Maximoff #Quicksilver #Pietro Maximoff #myfics #requests

414 notes · View notes

kickmuncher3 · 7 months

Text

Emily Axford’s PCs Ranked by How Likely They Are To Have Worn Crocs:

There was discussion on a recent short rest about which of Emily’s PCs are most likely to wear crocs, so I humbly present my findings:

1. Brenda Elizabeth: 100% canonical that she wears crocs. She is even wearing crocs in her canon artwork. God bless you Zac Oyama.

2. Tarragon Snakeroot: Also 100% canonical that she wears crocs, but the DM is being a little punk about it. Regardless of whether or not Murph thinks crocs exist in Eldermourne, if Emily says she’s wearing crocs, she’s wearing crocs.

3. Sophia Lee: A human living on present day earth. I’m certain she’s worn crocs around her place on Staten Island.

4. Chirp Featherfowl: Lives in the Feywild, but has a wife and child on present day earth. Has definitely tried on her wife’s crocs. Loves the novelty of them.

5. Ylfa Snorgelsson: Same voice as Brenda Elizabeth, so she’s already croc-coded. Plus, due to multiversal shenanigans, it’s almost guaranteed that there exists a version of her who’s worn crocs.

6. Onyx Lumiere: I don’t remember if crocs have been confirmed as canon in Trinyvale, but they definitely are. If Onyx didn’t already own a pair of pastel crocs, she’s surely looted a pair from someone she’s killed.

7. Fia Boginya: Crocs are not necessarily her style, but she lives in Eldermourne, so she’s had ample opportunity to wear them.

8. Brimstone Billy: Also, lives in Eldermourne, but I’m not sure if crocs have made their way to Endoterra yet.

9. Sundry Sidney: Technically exists in our future, but crocs are probably ancient relics in her time. Even if she could get her hands on a pair, she wouldn’t be able to get them on over her permanent roller skates.

10. Fig Faeth: I’m gonna say that crocs probably exist in Solace, but Fig was too preppy to wear them as a kid and is too punk to wear them now.

11. Moonshine Cybin: I’ll throw Murph a bone and say that crocs don’t exist in Bahumia, but if they did, I bet Moonshine would wear them. If a crick elf was gonna wear shoes, they’d probably wear crocs.

12. Calliope Petrichor: Again, no crocs in Bahumia, but even extra no crocs in the Feywild. Furthermore, they aren’t really the shoes of choice for either crime families or knights. No crocs for Calli.

13. Saccharina Frostwhip: Calorum is the setting least likely to contain crocs. It’s such a classic medieval fantasy world. That said, growing up poorer than the other PCs makes Saccharina the most likely A Crown of Candy character to have worn crocs.

14. Jet Rocks: By far the least likely Axford character to have worn crocs. Spent her short life growing up royal in a lavish castle with dreams of becoming a military commander in a world where crocs absolutely do not exist in the first place. Case closed.

#emily axford #naddpod #dimension 20 #the rotating heroes podcast #fantasy high #a crown of candy #a starstruck odyssey #a court of fey and flowers #the unsleeping city #neverafter #eldermourne #bahumia #ba2mia #trinyvale #short rest

712 notes · View notes

charlesf1leclerc · 4 months

Text

Summary: Christmas morning and surprises in the Leclerc family.

Warnings : suggestive content but no smut

A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY. Hope you all have a wonderful day with your family or whoever’s you are celebrating with. I wish you all the happiness and hope that this fic serves as a little gift from me to you. Xx

It was all quite to begin with. But that would never last long especially on Christmas morning. You and Charles were close to each other in bed Charles had his arm around your waist. You were both sound asleep. Until..

The sound of footsteps came from down the hallway then your door opened and the there was the shaking and the sound of voices.

“ wake up , he came he came”

Your groaned and rolled back in your pillow you knew Christmas was exciting and you weren’t annoyed at your babies but sometimes you liked your sleep.

Charles arm slipped from around your waist as he rolled over to look at the three kids standing on his side of the bed.

“ who came? “ he asked obviously teasing them.

“ SANTA papa “ Sicily screeched

“ presents!” Remy yelled

“ ok ok shall we go downstairs and see what he brought” Charles said moving to get up

“Yes!” All the kids ran downstairs.

“ Darling “ Charles shook you and you rolled over to face him as you obviously hadn’t gone back to sleep.

“Come on let’s go downstairs I’ll make you some coffee” he laughed

You groaned but got up out of bed as you wanted to spend this morning with your children. He then wrapped his arms around and gave you a kiss on the head as you both went downstairs.

By the time you had all gotten downstairs and you and Charles were settled on the couch your three children were ripping into their piles of presents. With many different new toys coming out from the wrapping paper. With the occasion shrieks of joy and the show and tell to you and Charles. As well as the numerous demands of “open it papa” only for the toy to be unboxed then left behind to unwrap more presents.

“ Santa really spoiled you guys this year” you smiled as you watched Remy play with his new dinosaur toy on the ground, Indy inspecting her new roller skates , and Sicily with some slime that was in her stocking.

“ what about you mama and papa what did Santa bring you” Sicily asked.

“ Santa dosent come to adults “ Indy said in a obvious way

“ that’s right but it’s ok because mama and papa got each other presents “ Charles smiled.

You had been nervous about one of Charles presents for the late couple of days as you had been feeling off for awhile so you decided to take a test, a pregnancy test. It came back positive. Of course nothing was planned but you were sure Charles would be just as happy and supportive as all the other times.

“ merry Christmas my love” Charles handed you a pile of gifts and leant over to kiss you on the lips

“ ewww “ Indy and Sicily groaned , as Charles replied by sticking his tongue out at them.

The first gift was a refill of the perfume you wear every day and could never get enough of. The next gift was a beautiful silver bracket with a love heart and engraved in the heart was a I, S , R and C. And then the final box made him smirk and you were immediately suspicious of what was in there. When you opened it you immediately put the items back in the box closing the lid and giving Charles a death glare.

“ in-front of the kids Charles”

“ something special for you and me “ he smirked proud of the silk set within the box

“You are such a teenage horny boy”

“ ok my turn” you sang as you passed him his pile of gifts

You were getting more excited at sharing the news with him.

He opened the two first gifts revealing some clothes as he was in need of some more suitable day wear they wasn’t carry blue and white tye dye jeans, next was new AirPods and a new travel set of mini suitcases for race weekend. Then he finally came to the final box, the box which contained the next chapter of your lives. He slowly opened it and revealed the stick from under the tissue paper.

“ what’s this mon amour” you just continued to stare at him.

He picked it up examining it closer. Then his eyes grew wide

“No” he looked at you

You just nodded your head smiling

“ your pregnant!”

“ yeah”

“Cherie” he smiled leaning over to kiss your lips and hug you. Then leaning to put his hand on your stomach.

“ this is amazing , the best Christmas gift”

“Surprising this is your fault for not being able to keep your hands off me” you laughed as his hand was still on your stomach

“ you’re just irresistible Cherie” he kissed you again.

“ 4 kids we are really outnumbered now”

“ we’ll be okay” and you believed him you would be ok

“ what did you get papa” Sicily asked as now the two youngest kids were standing in-front of him

“ well mama is pregnant there’s gonna be another baby” he smiled

“ yay! A new girl” Sicily shriek alerted the youngest who didn’t quite understand the idea of a new baby

“ well we don’t know if it’s a girl baby” you laughed

“ well I know it is “ she smiled going back to her toys

Charles looked at Remy picking him up , placing him on his lap then snuggling further into you basking in the fact that it was Christmas and the fact a new baby was on the way. It was all ok though for now you would bask in the comfort of your family of 5 before next year the family would grow and Christmas will become even more special.

482 notes · View notes

cluelessbees · 1 year

Text

OKAY SO I FOUND SOME STUFF ABOUT RINK O'MANIA

Hi, Hello, Welcome as I take you down the journey I fucking went through

So I was watching byler clips, as one does, and I was wondering whether or not they got lucky with the yellow and blue lighting in Rink O'Mania or whether they like – change the light bulbs or whatever. So I decided to stalk the Skating Rink they filmed at.

And holy shit did I find some interesting things.

I have no idea whether or not this was discovered before but I JUST NEED TO SHARE. SO HERE WE GO.

So, first of all, the place was originally called Roller King but they changed it to Skate O'Mania. Which, pretty similar to Rink O'Mania right? THAT'S BECAUSE THEY REMODELLED THE ENTIRE FUCKING ROLLER RINK FOR THE SHOW

LIKE I'm not even kidding.

They posted this message

Followed by a video (which is just a photo) with a little clipart of "under construction"

THEN, on August 10th they posted that they wrapped filming.

"Remodel courtesy of Hollywood" They deadass redecorated the entire roller rink for the however many minutes spent in ONE episode of the season. (The probably spent half the month redecorating and the other half filming which I'm losing my mind over?? no way this is a one time setting).

LIKE– Let me show you the difference in before and after the remodelling

The Roller Rink Before and After.

They added the blue and yellow light strips and the disco ball. And I can’t say 100 but it looks like they removed the pink and green coloured light(?)

And they added the whole ‘Skate/Rink O’mania’ sign (basically everything honestly was added by them–)

The Snack Station Before and After.

Again, we see the blue and yellow lighting.

The Table/Seating Area Before and After.

And okay I’m sorry about the quality of the second one I couldn’t find a better photo from their Google maps gallery or Facebook bUT- you can see that originally the lighting scheme was pink and blue but now it’s yellow and blue.

(here's another photo)

Like idk I’m losing my mind over this- they really like remodelled the entire fucking roller rink and added so much yellow and blue like?? I just think it's insane and I needed to share this discovery.

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things analysis #I have no idea if anyones done this before #hopefully this just helps prove that everything in the set is literally 100% intentional

1K notes · View notes

felixdragonheartofficial · 3 months

Text

TFA TEAM PRIME HUMAN REDESIGNS FINALLY

FUCK

+headcannons

Optimus: gotta stay focused

looks too old compared to his bot form.

I find it impossible for Optimus to be more than a million years old in this canon. In the least, he's older than 1000 years and since we have mfs that are canonically over 70 million years old(fagatron iykyk) compared to that, he feels like a dude in his early-to-mid-30's being the group parent.

---

-I made him more youthful, gave him curly hair, and tailored his clothing to actually look like his bot form.

-workaholic

-on the cusp of barley being able to hold his liquor

-doesn't own a pair of pajamas until Sari gets some for him

-usually forgets to put them on, but appreciates the gesture

-stays active for like, 3 days until he can't fight off sleep with work brain anymore, and unceremoniously passes out on the couch to sleep for a full 24 hours

-ratchet sighs and puts a blanket over him as per routine

-frequently checks security feed

-elf on the shelf despiser

-early morning talks with jazz and ratchet over coffee (they all wake up at 6 am)

-half thrives on caffeine and a vigorous training protocol

-is a dog person, loves German shepherds to death

David sama, pls forgive me ily very much

Ratchet: to old for this nonsense

doesn't match his body type in the slightest.

Ratchet is really old, he's got a sallow face and a gramp gut, how dare they square him. He's wayyy too angular and peachy looking.

-I gave him his luscious curves back, adding all the equipment id expect a field medic to have because he is a field medic, not a regular doctor. I changed his facial proportions, and also made his face gaunt, for that dead inside PTSD look.

---

-drinks his coffee black with brown sugar, literally drinks it piping hot

-is one of those old people who complains about noise

-confiscates bumblebee and Sari's toy cars, and puts them in a high up cabinet

-neither of them know how to bypass the child safety lock lmao

-casual clothes includes a lot- a l o t of plaid shirts, and 10 pairs of the same blue jeans

-tunes out bulkhead and prowls convos about birdwatching

-big fan of political satire dramas

-Sentinel doesn't approve

-Ratchet doesn't give a rats ass about what he thinks of course

Bumblebee: professional smart-ass

doesn't match his body type/age.

Bumblebees holoform is presented as a 10-12 year old child specifically for the fact that he's short, and the comedic relief. Total ass

I set his human age as 19-20 years old, making him more of a big brother to sari because that og model is disappointingly lackluster

---

-Bumblebee is a scrappy wisecracking punk, like an adhd kid who just got roller skates for Christmas.

-since he doesn't have wheels, I feel like he'd wear skates instead to emulate the feeling

-terrible at watching where he's going cuz he's too busy trying to show off, so ratchet makes him wear all that padding + training wheels

-legit despises the padding and training wheels

-Jealous of Blurr for mastering roller blades lmao.

-his favorite games are choose your fighter and fps

-saw ONE ancient ass assassins creed playthrough and begged ratchet to install hidden tasers in his arm bands (was denied)

-Sari used her key to do it instead

-self appointed "rizzler"

-Optimus has zero idea of what that means and thinks it's code for something dubious

-Ratchet knows what it means and thinks it's silly

-"I' was something of a rizzler myself back in my day, kid"

-bumblebee cringes

-loves summer and swimming

-wants to be the fastest thing in the sea because y'know, it's bumblebee

-is spooked from the beach for awhile cuz he saw sharks in Prowls nature documentary

-there are infact, no sharks in lake Erie

Bulkhead: big guy, bigger heart

doesn't match his body type/aspirations.

Jesus fuck he's so wide?? And his belly migrated to his shoulders?? I'm gonna be honest, I really hate this design. I feel like it contributed to the "brute strength = stupid" take that most in the fandom associates with him.

---

-Bulkhead is a SWEET. CARING. NERD YOU FOOLS. He's like the male version of a tall goth gf-

-a tall-nerdy-farm hand-physics bf, You got me fucked up.

-Its already shown that bulkhead really likes art in Addition to creating it. He hates being only seen as the "muscle" so it wouldn't make sense for him to lean into that.

-bunny slippers that him and sari made together(she provided the buttons)

-the slippers go missing sometimes (basically considered community property unless he's wearing them)

(ratchet and prowl are the main offenders)

-frequent art museum goer

-really likes watching cooking shows, but is too shy to make food himself

-Owns a ton of star maps

-Really wants a treehouse that he, bumblebee and sari can hang out in

-pillowfort enjoyer

-casually reads quantum physics at the beach

Prowl: draft dodger

Doesn't look like him at all.

Prowls holoform being a mustachioed,white, police officer was an actual jumpscare for 7 y/o me, I kid you not

---

- I know this bitch would not wear a helmet (you can't force him to) que windswept hair

-Not as much as starscreams, for obvious reasons but yk

-prowl is like one of those "shoes are a prison for your feet"

-emo hipster

-has a pet cactus named "planty"

-bumblebee heckles him for it

-can and has brought his cactus with him on early evening motorcycle rides

-the helmet is reserved for his cactus, bring your own >:(

-salad consumer

-him and jazz share custody of the cactus

-repeat victim of the cat distribution system

-ratchet has probably spent hours telling him they can't keep any animals at base

-frequent midnight picnics with jazz

-and beachcombing

-and roaming around antique stores cuz jazz wants to know what vinyl records are

-got a mug with an attempted pink chibi cat with big round shiny eyes painted onto it, courtesy of bulkhead trying to find an artsyle

-cherishes this mug to death

-has a shrine dedicated to it

#tfa #decepticons #autobots #tfa headcanons #tfa optimus prime #tfa bulkhead #tfa bumblebee #tfa ratchet #tfa prowl #AUUUUUUGH #im gonna have a pole #optimus prime #bumblebee #bulkhead #prowl #ratchet #tfa sari #sari sumdac #sari mention

238 notes · View notes

tweetracer · 9 months

Note

In regards to Allan requests.....can i request a little something for Reader!Doll (Ken or Barbie idc) x Allan meet-cute, or anything regarding love at first sight? Thanks!!!

✨Doll!Reader x Allan✨

💖 Every day in Barbieland is perfect but today is the most perfect of perfect days because today you arrive at Barbieland! You’re one of a kind, brand new, first of your name (and with the way you were selling off the shelves you won’t be the last!) and the Barbies knew immediately that they absolutely had to throw a super awesome blowout party with a bespoke song and completely original dance choreography.

💖 It was exciting! And… maybe a little overwhelming. Your line of Dream House (“Dream Living Apartment by Mattel”) had yet to leave the assembly line so Physicist Barbie was letting you have a sleepover at her place in the interim which was so sweet of her.

💖 The two of you were putting on the final touches of your outfits for the evening (with her complimenting your hair and you praising the flattering pantsuit she’d chosen for the night) before heading to President Barbie’s Dream House where the event would be hosted with you arriving as the guest of honor.

💖 “Ohmigosh! I am just so excited for your party tonight!” Physicist Barbie reached over to grab your hand excitedly, bouncing it a few times as you let out a laugh at just how happy she was. Everything really was perfect in Barbieland, wasn’t it? “It’s not my party, Barbie! It’s President Barbie’s party!” You amended with a bashful smile.

💖 “It’s a party for you though! Your first real night in Barbieland! Ah!!!” She cheered again, waving her hands about with a huge grin as her Dream Car turned itself down the street and began to slow to stop in front of the impressive bright pink building overhead. You could only smile and laugh, somewhat embarrassed by just how nice everyone is!

💖 Carpark Ken graciously escorted you from the vehicle as you followed Physicist Barbie up the regal stairs where a set of massive pink mansion doors opened up to a huge entryway- a wall of PinkSynthFunkBubblePop music hitting your ears in a way that would have been overwhelming if you were anywhere but Barbieland.

💖 The entire party was a blur; you were swarmed by Barbies- all asking you about yourself and what you do and how much you must already love it in Barbieland and Kens who wanted to show off with the cleverly choreographed dance breaks worked into the song.

💖 It would have been exhausting but you were in Barbieland! Barbieland wasn’t exhausting!…… right? You smiled and waved goodbye to another Barbie who’d come to welcome you (her Ken right on her heels- looking like she’d hung the plastic moon in the midnight blue backdrop of a sky). You couldn’t help but feel some weird twist in your chest and, had you been anywhere but Barbieland, you would’ve sighed.

💖 You obviously didn’t have a Ken- you weren’t a Barbie, after all (something you’d had to politely remind a few Kens when they referred to you as one) so why would you have a Ken? You took another pretend-sip of the imaginary sparkling cider when Doctor Barbie spun your way- her beautiful red hair billowing out behind her as she handed you a pair of roller skates.

💖 “Come on! You’ve gotta join in the next dance- we’re doing a Starlight Express inspired Jubilee-Groove Pop number in your honor!” She extended her hand to you and you took it without a second thought despite that same little twinging feeling you felt earlier. “Thanks, Barbie!” You called out, doing a little spin that (with the help of some Barbieland magic!) resulted in you coming to a smooth stop on your roller skates!

💖 “Wow, Barbie you look so rockin’ in those skates!” Came the cheerful caw of nearby Roadie Ken decked out in a glittery denim vest with slicked back hair. “Oh my GOSH, Ken! They’re not a Barbie!” Doctor Barbie scolded even as you waved his words away with a bashful smile. “Oh…! Well you look TOTALLY ROCKIN’, Ken!” He went in for a fist bump only for Doctor Barbie to roll her eyes and grab your hand, skating towards the dance stage. “They’re not a Ken either, duhh” Barbie groaned. Roadie Ken apologized profusely (clearly confused) but was cut off at the Jubilee-Groove Pop song started up, music loud and cheerful and just so Barbie.

💖 The choreography began and you moved through it automatically- like your body knew how to do each move without you putting an effort behind it. You smiled and moved along to the music- ignoring the Totally Nonexistent Part of you that felt like this wasn’t… your scene.

💖 You spun on your wheels in a beautiful pirouette before a Ken wheeled up, taking your hand in his and following in the choreography with a big grin. He opened his mouth to say something before you felt your body whirl in another direction without your consent. The choreography sending you from partner to partner- the Kens a blur of big white shiny smiles and the Barbies each a beautiful, capable individual but none of them were the right dance partner it seemed.

💖 Your body moved on its own, switching partners with elegant dance moves that timed perfectly with the rising music. Right as the pop music swelled you closed your eyes; letting your body move on its own. You felt your body grab a hand- a new partner, your eyes opened right as the music came to a head.

💖 He was… cute. With big doe eyes and deep red hair that framed a sweet face he was… different? He followed your movements just as easily as you slipped into each other’s orbit perfectly.

💖 “You aren’t a Ken!?” You blurted out, surprised even as you spun into into his arms on one roller skate. He laughed, pretty porcelain cheeks turning a shade of pink. “Oh! No, I’m Ken’s buddy, Allan. All his clothes fit me. Are you the new Barbie?” He asked, lifting you up as the two of you stood in the middle of the dance floor- the rest of the couples moving in a perfect circle around the two of you.

💖 “They’re not a Barbie~” came the singsong voice of a dancer spinning by.

💖 “O-Oh! I’m sorry I didn’t mean!” Allan started but you waved him off with an embarrassed grin, unable to tear your eyes away from his as the lights and music seemed to float and glitter around you. “Don’t worry about it” you said gently, surprised by how breathless you sounded despite not needing to breathe.

💖 The two of you seemed to be locked in this moment together- unable to tear your eyes apart as the two of you smiled bashfully. That weird feeling you had earlier- the one that said this wasn’t your scene, the one that felt like the music was loud- the one that wanted to sigh in Barbieland seemed to dissipate as the music finished.

💖 You introduced yourself politely, still smiling as you admired the way his eyes lit up at your name. “It’s very nice to meet you, Allan.” You said, knowing you probably looked silly with how big of a grin was on your face. But it couldn’t have been that silly because his smile mirrored yours and it looked so charming on him.

💖 “So would you like to-” Allan started only to get cut off as a new song came to life, dancers rushing the floor. “WhoAH!” Allan yelped as Model Ken whipped past him, sending the redhead tumbling forwards. Without thinking you reached out, catching him without hesitation and wrapping your arms around him with a surprised gasp.

💖 You stared deeply into his eyes from where you held onto him- blinking a few times at how close the two of you were. Something in your brain told you to press forwards- you don’t know why but you just needed to press your lips against his and-

💖 “Hey! Nobel Prize Winning Journalist Barbie invited you to the after party at her place! Let’s go!” The two of you jumped apart as Doctor Barbie approached you with a big smile, immediately grabbing your hand and wheeling you in a new direction. You were stunned, almost starstruck from the handsome doll you’d just been pulled away from.

💖 You hardly noticed Doctor’s Barbie’s words but nodded along, unable to stop yourself from glancing over your shoulder at Allan, who still stood looking just as spellbound as you felt. Your eyes met through the crowd and shared a shy smile, you lifted a hand to wave goodbye at him and he did the same.

💖 Something deep inside you stirred, making your face warm and your steps feel light. You think you were going to really really like living in Barbieland.

💖 (Somewhere in the RealWorld, a little girl sat in the backseat of a car with her brand new doll and the Allan her mother had managed to find on the back of the shelf of a Goodwill last Christmas; baffled that the discontinued toy had been for sale. “Honey? Honey- don’t smush their faces together like that, remember? You have to be careful! There’s only one Allan.”)

#anonymous #tweed peeps #reader slash #reader insert #barbie imagines #barbie movie fic #barbie x reader #barbie/reader #barbie movie (2023)#Allan #Allan (Barbie Movie)#Allan (Barbie)#Allan/Reader #Allan x Reader #Allan (Barbie)/Reader #Allan(Barbie) x Reader #ken x reader

410 notes · View notes

videogamepoc · 2 months

Text

Before Israel’s war in Gaza, Palestinian programmer Doaa Ghandour was working on Palestine Skating Game’s grind rails. Any skater — be that skateboarding or roller skating — knows rails are essential to street-style skating. In Palestine Skating Game, these grind rails weave through the West Bank, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater-style, for use as you spray graffiti on the Israeli-built separation wall. It’s easy to see the appeal of Palestine Skating Game in its early prototype on Itch.io: The futuristic Bethlehem is made all the more colorful with paint splatters and graffiti, set to what the team describes as “Arabic electronic music.” And it’s designed to be enticing: “The idea is that if you immerse Westerners in that kind of art and music from the region, you’ll start to actually see people from the region as human beings,” Palestine Skating Game’s current project lead told Aftermath in November.

Palestine Skating Game has been in development for roughly two and a half years. The inspiration initially hit after the project lead, who was granted anonymity by Polygon, saw We Are Lady Parts, a TV show about an all-women Muslim punk band. Development has changed since then — it had to. “We have to acknowledge the existence of a lot more suffering,” the project lead told Polygon. “We are having to do the thing where we had one creative vision for the project, and now we have to figure out how that changes with respect to the events unfolding.” Israel’s war in Gaza is entering its fourth month. Nearly 28,000 people have been killed in Gaza, 388 in the occupied West Bank, and 1,139 in Israel, according to Al Jazeera. The International Court of Justice (ICJ) is currently hearing a genocide case against Israel, wherein it argues that “the acts and omissions by Israel complained of by South Africa are genocidal in character because they are intended to bring about the destruction of a substantial part of the Palestinian national, racial and ethnical group,” as reported by Vox. Israel denies the accusation, saying its attacks are justified as a response to Hamas’ terrorist attack in Israel on Oct. 7, where roughly 1,200 people were killed. “Israeli Occupation Forces have cut off all medical supplies, as well as water and food, from Palestinians in Gaza, amidst the continued carpet bombing and genocide. It has left our friends to navigate the most severe humanitarian crisis of our time,” the fundraiser reads. Palestine Skating Game has been in development for roughly two and a half years. The inspiration initially hit after the project lead, who was granted anonymity by Polygon, saw We Are Lady Parts, a TV show about an all-women Muslim punk band. Development has changed since then — it had to. “We have to acknowledge the existence of a lot more suffering,” the project lead told Polygon. “We are having to do the thing where we had one creative vision for the project, and now we have to figure out how that changes with respect to the events unfolding.” The project lead said the team, which is Ghandour, writer Hadeel, and himself with four other developers and volunteers, want to make it easy for people — even those unfamiliar with the conflict — to see what’s happening in Gaza. “We want to make it easier for people to see, Oh, here’s how the West Bank has been slowly eaten up and balkanized,” he said. “We also just want it to be something that people want to share with their friends. There should be so many fucking cool things in this game that people will immediately want to say, ‘Hey, you’ve got to see this.’” The Palestine Skating Game team — the core group, four paid developers, and roughly 15 volunteer developers — is working on a full vertical slice, or a polished, short demo, of the game. They’re also hoping to run a Kickstarter, GoFundMe campaign, or other investment to fund more development.

#palestine #palestine skating game #gaza #free palestine #free gaza #doaa ghandour #video game industry #gaming industry

160 notes · View notes

agirlcandream84 · 24 hours

Note

HIII !!! im the anon that asked for neighbor!frank, and to answer your question... Why not both? 💋💋💋

Ok twist my arm why don't ya. First batch, Boyfriend!Frank:

Boyfriend!Frank Headcanons- yet again.

Frank is a SIMP for you cracking his back. As soon as he's face-down on the bed, he's pawing at you to straddle his broad back like "come on honey, get on top of me-- give it to me good" and making you lean your whole weight onto his spine-- a satisfying crack rippling through him while you shriek "oh-my-god-did-i-hurt-you?!" and he just chuckles with "nah sweetheart, do it again f'me" Sometimes you think it's as good as sex for him. Almost.

Speaking of sex though... one time you decide to tease Frank via pics while he was out of the apartment, every pic more suggestive and lewd than the last and when he finally bursts through the door you act coy for about 0.5 secs before Frank hauls you from the kitchen, your toes only skimming the floor as he carries you effortlessly with one hand, his other hand already working to unzip his pants, and tosses-- literally tosses-- you on the bed, as he crawls onto the bed after you and taps your knee with "open 'em for me doll. Not gonna ask twice."

You beg Frank for his help to paint your toenails for you and he pretends to grumble about but he secretly loves it. He's meticulous and even perches a set of magnifying reading glasses on his nose as he does it. Just his big hulking head hunched over your foot, his crooked nose inches from the tips of your toes. He's so proud of his work that he stops you from getting up before they're dry like "nah nah nah, you're gonna mess 'em all up 'n shit. Stay put, I'll get your book."

Frank does not take kindly to people (let's be real, men) disrespecting your intelligence. When you're remodeling your bathroom and you're looking for the right tile, the store clerk is talking directly to Frank about every detail, acting like you don't even exist. Frank is all, "The fuck you tellin' me for buddy? My lady asked you the question. Why don't you answer her," and the guy is suddenly tripping over his words as he gives you an apology.

You got it in your brain that you wanted to learn how to roller skate and your apartment is all hardwood floors so it felt like a perfect place to practice and Frank is like a nervous parent to a toddler, putting towels over sharp table corners, shouting "Go slow!" down the hallway and generally hovering around for the (many) inevitable times you lose your footing-- his thick arm looping around your waist as your feet slide out from under you and he's mumbling "gonna fucking kill yourself on these fucking things."

Frank didn't have much a sweet tooth except for your banana bread. The first time you made it you never saw him take a bite but somehow the loaf kept getting smaller and smaller. One night you reach over to Frank in the middle of the night but he wasn't in bed so you pad into the kitchen all groggy and rubbing your eyes asking "Frankie?" and there he is in the dark kitchen, enjoying a hunk of banana bread he tore off with his bare hands.

Unsurprisingly, Frank is a cash-carrying guy and you simply never have cash when you need it so Frank has taken to leaving a stack of bills tucked in your wallet once a week because he doesn't like you not having some spending money and emergency cash on hand.

Unfortunately, Frank was always scaring you on accident. Sure, sometimes you could hear the clunk of his boots from a mile away but Frank was pretty stealthy more often than not, even when he wasn't trying. Pair that with your nervous system being one that was sorta lowkey always on high alert and that amounts to you yelping in fright at least once a day when Frank seemingly appears out of nowhere. Of course, Frank interprets this as an opportunity to better educate you on how to be aware of your surroundings like "Come on sweetheart, you gotta get out of that pretty head of yours. Gotta stay sharp, alright?"

It took ffooorrrvveer into your relationship for Frank to even show you that he got sleepy sometimes-- LIKE A HUMAN. The first months of living together you didn't see Frank so much as yawn and he was always awake when you fell asleep and awake when you woke up in the morning. But finally, he slowly dropped his tough-guy-watch-dog visage just enough to let himself get cuddly when he was feeling slightly needy like when he was sick or especially tired or thinking about the past too much. His favorite spot was his cheek pressed into the warm smooth skin of your chest, his hands softly running over your breasts and his warm breath tickling your stomach. It was one of the one places he let himself be taken care of, just for a moment, with your nails scratching his scalp slightly.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fanfic #frank castle x you #frank castle smut #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fluff #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x female reader

101 notes · View notes

kingofthe-egirls · 7 months

Text

SKITTISH: LUFFY x Y/N

(cw: lots of food/eating, kissing sorta, luffy sees you and likes you, reader is a foxy pirate, asthmatic!reader, sorta spoilers for post wano, this is opla or anime whatever u choose!)

(a/n: this counts as journaling)

Songs: “Plans” by Maude Latour

words: 1.2k

****

You stand behind your cotton candy machine, sparkling your eyes behind your foxy pirate mask. The pirates have set up carnival stalls filled with meat and doughnuts and elephant ears. It smells like heaven.

Mugiwara no Luffy is staring at you.

He’s salivating, licking his lips as he reaches into the spinning candy machine to dip his hands straight into the sugar. “Hey!” You squeal, swatting him away. He hasn’t broken eye contact, even as he sucks the fairy floss straight off his fist.

“You’re pretty!” He says, smiling.

You flush all the way to the tips of your toes. A tingle runs down your spine, as you shift uncomfortably in place. No one’s called you pretty before. Silly and strange, maybe. But never pretty. That’s for Porche.

With her turquoise hair and slender waist, plus her charming personality…you’ve felt like a smaller, chubbier, easily forgotten younger sister that gets passed over more often than not. You’ve got asthma too, so you can’t even run for very long. Your Foxy Pirates job is to make the cotton candy. To tear down the stalls. To smile and laugh and help your fellow crew members cheat.

So it’s surprising—freezing—to have an Emperor of the Sea staring at you like you’re fried dough on a stick.

“Th-thanks,” you stutter, the whir of the cotton candy machine underlining your short-of-breath sounds. It’s bad enough your lungs are ass, now you’re flustered too.

“Welcome!” He says cheerfully, downing another gulp of pastel pink candy. It sticks to his chin in sparkling crystals. You want to wipe them off. “What games do you play?”

“This, mostly…,” you shrug. Your older, stronger crew mates are the ones who participate in the competitions. And though you’re thankful for the foxy pirates for taking you in, you do wish you were allowed to play more of the games. You like the boxing fights in particular.

“That’s stupid!” He says, smiling. “You should roller skate with me!” He challenges you like he’s inviting you to play. His brown eyes are so, so deep. Like dark coffee straight from the espresso machine. With the foam on top, all caramel in the sunlight. He swipes a stripe of candy from off his upper lip. His cupid’s bow is wide, and arched slightly.

He slaps your shoulder.

“See you in the rink!”

You scrabble for your inhaler as he walks away, all bouncy and rubbery with his head sticking out and down. His knees are slightly bowled, with his feet turned out like a ballet dancer as he walks. He’s strange.

He’s…

Sexy.

****

So now you’re standing shakily on skates, waiting at the start line of your roller skating rink.

Your knees are shivering, your pulse racing beneath your elbow pads and wrist guards. You’ve only ever roller skated for fun, let alone a competition. Your breath is shallow and raspy in your aching lungs. It’s humid: the worst kind of weather for you to try and breathe through. The air tastes like salt. You lick your lips: so do you.

Strawhat Luffy is standing on the starting line next to you, his own stance shaky and unstable. His knees knock together as he tries to remember how to stand on wheels.

You sigh.

Inhale…

Exhale.

You’ve got this.

****

The whistle blows, and you’re off.

You push against the ground, squeezing your core as much as you can to try and retain balance. You’re not the fastest, but you enjoy the speed of skating and how the wind rushes past your ears.

Your roller skates slide smoothly over the rink’s circular track, and you allow yourself a smile as you skate around the first corner. A slingshot limb shoots past your face, before you see a hand grab onto the rail in front of you. The captain of the Strawhats lets out an enthusiastic scream, before rocketing past you. His shoulder checks yours, so you’re sent flying. The air leaves your lungs in one short gasp, and you’re spinning out of control before you realize what’s happened.

“Shit!” You screech, tumbling into the grass at the center of the track. He stumbles after you, losing balance as he lands straight on top of you.

What little air you have left leaves you, as suddenly your senses are filled with him: all sweaty and musky and tanned and gorgeous and he’s he’s he’s—kissing your shoulder?

It’s so fast you almost miss it, but you’re sure you feel the hot press of his lips to your shoulder blade. He’s up now, reaching down to help you up, too. He’s smiling at you with sharper eyes than you remember.

He’s like a tiger.

“Sorry, foxy,” he snickers, helping you up and shaky skates. His hands sear fingerprints into your skin.

“S’okay…,” you mumble.

Something scared and wicked flares within your gut, so you push him over and start speeding back onto the track. He screams, surprised, but you’re already rushing away and over the finish line with stars in your brain and cotton candy in your stomach. It feels like butterflies. It feels like rain.

So you let your team win this round, and you skate away as fast as you can to go hide in a corner somewhere.

****

The rest of the games pass by in a blur, with your stomach churning and your lungs heaving in shallow, shaky breaths. You stand by the sidelines, surrounded by your crew mates as the prize selection starts. The Strawhats won the roller rink games, so it’s their pick of the lot.

Everyone’s nervous, the air going still as every single person holds their breath in suspense.

Strawhat Luffy stares at the crowd, scanning for someone with a squint. The setting sun shoots laser beams through his eyes. He’s chewing on his lower lip. You shuffle, listening to the murmurs of your fellow crew mates as they wonder who he’s gonna choose. You hope it’s you.

“Hmm…,” he says, tapping his sandal against the stage. His own crew is standing beside him, waiting for him to choose. They seem relaxed, since they haven’t lost anyone yet.

You shove a handful of cotton candy into your face, stress eating.

“That one!” Luffy shouts, confidently pointing straight at you.

You stop, mid-chew.

“Hah?” You ask, the air in your lungs squeezing out like a deflated balloon. Sticky sugar paints your chin, as you lick your lips. It’s sweet.

“Y/n?” Captain Foxy asks, as the crowd around you parts. You’re standing by yourself, suddenly. The comforting warmth of your crew mates disappears, as you stand holding fairy floss with one hand. You swallow, thickly.

“Seriously?”

Your voice sounds shy—squeaky.

Monkey D. Luffy grins, and crosses his arms in satisfaction. “Yep!” He says cheerfully, as people start to maneuver you up to the front of the stage. You stumble over yourself, nerves and limbs jelly. Someone has seen you…has chosen you.

Suddenly, you inhale.

“Sweet!” You say, breathy, as your new crew welcomes you with open arms. Someone slaps your back, another squeezes your hand.

Your new captain smiles at you, dazzlingly. Sugar is still melting on your chin. He leans forward, swiping it off with his tongue.

Fuck.

He snickers, before stepping away to smack his lips. “Make sure you bring the candy machine, too!”

So you do.

****

part 2 coming soon!

#dumpster dive #my writing #kitty speaks #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #fav #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #foxy pirates #luffy fluff

279 notes · View notes