#but leaving a kid in the middle of field alone? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pirateprincessblog · 6 months

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player 9

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: finally reuniting with your family after years of working abroad, your six year old nephew doesn't leave your side. he wants you to take him to school, he wants to do his homework with you, he wants to sit on your lap during meals, and he wants you to watch his football practice. how convenient that you're almost always alone on that stadium, and that his coach is just the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: footballplayer!yunho, coach!yunho, whippedforhernephew'scoach!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: gagging, semi-public sex, oral (m!receiving), creampie, unprotected sex

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: is it soccer or football? football or rugby? either way, i'd let yunho demolish me in the locker room (or in the middle of the football field). :)

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

"it's called soccer, dumbass."

"no, it's called football, dumbass."

"you don't know what you're talking about." your brother rolls his eyes, then stuffs his mouth with the hotdog you had made for game night.

"there's a ball, and you kick it with your foot. what part of that seems to be the issue?"

"football is an entirely different sport-"

"oh give me a break-"

"god, it's like you both are sixteen again. is that just a natural thing? no matter how old you get you'll bicker like this all your life?" your mother complains, sipping her cucumber water and judging the calories on the table with a single eyebrow raise.

your brother's son, your nephew, laughs in your lap. you laugh with him, seeing the ketchup mess on his face and his sticky little fingers.

"and what are you laughing at, you little rascal? come here!"

the young man grabs the child from your lap, tickling the life out of him as a punishment for mocking his father. he playfully reaches towards you for help, and you do, tickling your own brother to make him stop.

"oh god, my white couch!"

"stop that, our daughter came back after many years apart and you care about the couch?" your father scolds his wife.

"it's not like that-"

"hush! is it 2:1? is it?! yes it is!" he jumps, spilling the beer all over the just mentioned couch.

"oh, heavens." her voice is light, and she looks like she is about to faint.

the four of you snicker, and silently cheer with another hot dog.

you forgot just how boring your town is. you do nothing but lay in your bed watching tv shows, walk to the local bakery, and drive your nephew to school. he is almost glued to you twenty four hours a day, and you don't mind. he is the squishiest thing ever, always listens to you, and helps you piss off your brother.

he doesn't have much of a mother figure in his life. your brother works a lot, and your parents are raising him. his mother died during birth, and even though they begged to save her and not the child, it was too late. your brother didn't want the baby at first. pushed it away, yelled at it, saying it took away his wife and his will to live. then, he started therapy. he started getting better, and started spending time with his child. your nephew has all the love he could possibly get, but your arrival changed him. he has become very attached to you; sneaking out of his room in the middle of the night just to sleep in your bed, making his kindergarten teacher call you mid playing just to tell you that he built a rocket out of clay, to only eating when he sits on your lap and you feed him.

much like this morning.

"auntie?" he mumbles between the waffle bites.

"yes, pumpkin?"

"will you watch me play soccer today?"

"it's football!" your brother calls from the living room. "you broke my kid."

"i didn't break him, i just passed him some of my IQ."

the man sticks his tongue out towards you, making his son giggle.

"don't you want grandpa to take you?" your father makes a disappointed face, teasing his grandchild.

"i want auntie to take me! and then you can meet my coach! and then you can see how cool our new jerseys are! we are only allowed to wear them at the stadium and not take them home because they are new. i really wanted to show it to you but coach wouldn't let me. he says i'd make it rip it as soon as i enter the house!"

"oh, how dare he!" you say, noticing your father's wink as a sign to support him.

"and sometimes he yells at me! but grandpa told me that he just means well, and that he only wants to teach me so i can be a great player like him! did you know that he is going to play the- the- oh no, what's it called again, grandpa?"

"the derby?"

"yes! that! he is going to play in a few weeks! he is so cool!"

he may not be able to feed himself, but instead of that, he can talk. all day long. and just sometimes, your ears become irritated. so you agree to drive him. you blast the music, muting his babbling from the back as he sits in his car seat. can anyone blame you? it's a two hour drive. you don't have the energy for it today.

you finally arrive, and after making sure you've locked your car and rolled the windows up, you finally let him lead you inside. you can barely keep up with him, he is too excited to see his friends. you see other women standing near the group of children, and you let go of your nephew's hand so you can greet them. after all, you'll be coming here quite often it seems.

"hi, just wanted to introduce myself."

"oh, the new stepmom?"

"what? no- i- what?" you're just as confused as them, and you look over to your nephew.

"oh, i'm so sorry! he keeps talking about his new mom and we just thought-"

his new mom? your confusion disappears when you see the little boy pointing his finger towards you, excitedly showing you off to his friends.

"no, no. i'm his aunt." you inform them.

before they get to say anything, the doors on the side of the stadium open, revealing a tall male wearing a jersey. you hear whispering behind you, maybe even a particularly long exhale, and you have to say that you agree with them.

the coach is stunning. he is drop dead gorgeous, and the more you look, the more self conscious you feel about your lazily picked outfit today. he is so tall and lean, his waist probably smaller than yours. his lips are plump and a pretty pink colour, and his hair a dirty blonde, almost a mullet. no wonder all the moms were dipped in makeup and dresses. you wore your brother's hoodie with his favorite football team logo on it, short leggings and zero makeup.

"hi, ladies." he greets, smiling at the group. he surely knows his impact.

his gaze stops on you, catching you red handed. you must've been staring at him weirdly, because he smiles wider your way, then finally lets the kids inside to change and get ready for the practice. all except...

"coach jeong! can my mom please come and watch me?"

"mom?" the coach is caught off guard, glancing your way.

"oh, no no, honey-" you try explaining. that man needs to know you're single.

"please?" the boy puts his palms together, and does his best puppy eyes to convince the man in front of him to let you in.

"well i- i guess. come in then." he holds the door open for you.

other women do not seem to take interest in going in and watching their children. instead, they greet the coach, then head over to the nearby café. your nephew tugs at your hand, smile so wide his eyes turn into half moons and he doesn't even see you.

"you little rascal." you scold him, ruffling his hair.

he runs off to the locker room, and you watch him drag the backpack that is almost bigger than him across the floor.

"well, this is an odd surprise. i didn't know he had a mother. not to be rude, of course."

"oh, i am not. i am his aunt." you finally explain.

"ah, so that's the case. i was wondering. you look so young."

he smells of freshly cut grass and a hint of manly sweat, mixed with some type of cologne. his face is clean shaven, giving you a chance to notice his sharp jawline as you walk together towards the football field.

"he is a gem, really. but, god, can he talk."

"i know. he got that one from me." you joke, knowing your nephew has outbursts of energy often.

yunho laughs, then opens another door for you. you finally step into the green field, nostrils immediately filling up with the pleasant smell of freshly mowed grass. you were never one for sports, but you gladly watched a game or two with your friends and now family. you wouldn't do it willingly on your own, you have more interesting things to do. but you don't hate it.

you also don't hate it when yunho places his hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the chairs where you've seen coaches and other member's of the team sit during matches. you thank heavens for the early winter sun and long sleeves, otherwise he would've seen the goosebumps from an innocent touch like that.

"have a seat. if they kick a ball in your direction, i'm sorry on their behalf."

"real comforting for my first live match, thanks."

the children run out on the field after changing, taking their positions on a white line in front of their coach. you study his moves, and needless to say, you find yourself squirming in the plastic chair quite soon. he is stern. he gives orders, guides them, and cares for them. you are turned on by something as simple as his yelling over the field. you never knew you could be so turned on by someone doing their job.

he starts the warmup, doing the squats and pushups with them. his arms aren't that big, but they are still muscular and decorated with bulging veins.

"coach, remember when you made us do pushups with your backpack on our back?" one of the older kids says.

"yeah, so? want another session?"

"no, no! i was just wondering if you could do the same." the rest of them start smirking, especially your nephew, and yunho scoffs.

"of course i can."

"but not with the backpack! with her on your back!" he points his little finger towards you, and you scoff.

"i don't think that's approp-"

"he can't do it," you accidentally interrupt, trying to save him.

he looks at you, one eyebrow cocked. you swear you could slip off the chair from the sudden rush of arousal.

"oh, really?" he asks, a smirk dancing on his lips.

"really." you decide to tease back, to see just how far it gets you.

"well why don't we try?"

he gets into the position, not even allowing you to decline. the team starts cheering, your nephew the loudest of them all.

"come on, now. sit on me."

you choke on your saliva. he smirks to himself, and you are ready to wipe it off. he likes teasing, doesn't he. little narcissist.

you walk over to him, purposely sitting on his back with force. but he holds, his wide back a comfortable seat. his arms start working his body. and your jaw drops at how easily he is doing the push ups with you on his back. the cheers get louder, seeing their coach effortlessly carry a person like that. he does a few more, just to show off, until you get off of him. your nephew runs over, hugging your leg and cheering for the handsome coach. yunho winks at you, then proceeds to train the boys.

your stops to the stadium become your new hobby. you sit on the same chair, watching the man teach the young ones, occasionally catching a glance or two from him, then arriving home and falling asleep mid day to the thoughts of his arms and voice. some days you fall asleep from simple thoughts, and some days you need a locked door and a buzzing device.

with each practice, he finds a way to somehow touch you. last time, he asked you to help him set up a new net on the goal frame. he couldn't "reach it", so he held you by your waist in the air while you secured it. if he can carry you around so easily, could he also carry you as he thrusts into you back in his office? or in the back of the-?

"guests! get up!" your mother knocks on the door, and you are quick to throw your gadget under your pillow, stopping the fantasies in your brain.

poor thing has been working non stop for the past few weeks, and still doesn't do a good enough job. sure, it gets you over the edge, but seeing yunho's slender fingers spin that ball so effortlessly when he is busy watching the kids play is just making it more complicated. not sure if on purpose, but lots of times he toys with the little hole on the ball that is there for inflating it. he circles it, slowly and carefully, eyes not leaving the green field. your eyes are locked on the ball and the middle finger rotating on the ball, mouth going dry as you almost feel that same finger circling your own hole.

"see? told you he's a gem." he interrupts your drooling one day.

"huh? oh, yes. absolutely." you catch a glimpse of your nephew celebrating victory.

you miss the way yunho bites his lip, hiding another smirk forming. he knows he has you wrapped around his finger, and he can almost smell the arousal off you. at first, he enjoyed teasing you for fun. but now? seeing that you've started showing up in short knitted winter dresses and knee high boots? it gets him going too. especially when you put those sunglasses on when you get in the car and help your nephew in his car seat, looking like a really hot young mom.

a mom he'd like to fuck all day every day in the back of the car after she drops her kids off at school.

"guests? who the hell is it?" you ask more yourself than your mother.

you throw on a sweater and the first pair of jeans you find, then check if you've put the vibrator away just in case a certain child decides to come in the room and snoop. it is securely locked in your drawer, along with a local newspaper cutout with yunho's figure on it, the jersey proudly stating his last name and his player number: nine. he looks dashing, so why not? you're not doing anything weird with it. just masturbating to it. no biggie. everyone does that.

it is a random wednesday and middle of the day. nobody familiar is coming to your mind when it comes to guests. but when you go downstairs and join your mother in the kitchen, you freeze. the big glass door to the patio is open, revealing the very coach you were just touching yourself to sitting on your favorite chair near the pool. your father hands him over a beer, like they do this every day.

"what is the coach doing here?"

"your brother invited him to wish him luck for the game next week." the woman simply explains, lining up the various cheese bites on toothpicks on the oval plate. "here, take this to your father while i grab a few more beers for them. for an athlete, you'd think he drinks less."

"mom!" you scold, in case he might have super hearing.

you carry the plate in one hand, while you use the other one to fix your hair. yunho is quick to notice you coming towards them, a smile forming on his lips as he examines you head to toe. you look cute in maroon and black, that oversized sweater hiding your waist from him. ever since he lifted you in the air that day to fix the net, he has been dreaming about holding that waist again. he wants to bite into it, leave purple marks all over it, kiss it and whatnot. you are just that addictive, and you didn't do anything but exist.

"hi, coach."

something about you calling him coach is setting his body on fire. it has the same effect on him as the word "daddy" or "sir" would have on someone else. he decides he enjoys hearing it from your lips. he hopes he'll get to hear it in a shape of a moan or gasp too.

"hi, my lovely assistant. did you know that your sister actually knows a thing or two about football?"

"soccer. and no, this dumbass right here?"

all three of you roll your eyes at his correction. yunho snickers, taking a sip of his beer.

"yes. she helps me set up the training ground and comes up with very interesting and actually beneficial stuff. the other day she even managed to score against our thirteen year old goalkeeper!"

you squint your eyes at the man, holding grudge for mocking you. he is half right, you did set up the training grounds for the kids. and you did score against the thirteen year old goalkeeper. go you!

"cheese?" you offer, stopping their little bullying session.

"why, thank you." he takes one, then continues his conversation about the upcoming game.

you run back to the kitchen, helping your mother with more drinks. you hear your nephew somewhere, and his quick and heavy footsteps.

"careful, i'm holding liquid!" you warn before he can bump into you.

you make your way towards the patio again, ready to secretly start flirting with his coach. you don't know how. you'll figure it out. only this time, he doesn't notice you coming, and stands up while still talking to your family. he doesn't hear you warn him over your nephew's loud and bad cover of the teenage mutant ninja turtles theme song, and walks straight into you, spilling the beverages all over his white t-shirt and your maroon sweater. you almost slip on the wet tiles, but his hands are quick to grab your waist and steady you. your body is pushed against his, soft breasts pressed against his own firm chest, your heart almost breaking through your ribcage and hitting his.

"shit, i'm so sorry." he finally lets go, then bends over to pick up the half empty cans of beer.

"oh, just leave it! i'll clean it up!" your voice is squeaky, hands still trembling from the interaction you just had.

his grasp is so firm, you want him to pick you up again just so you can feel that rush of lust one more time. the way his slender fingers pick up the pieces of glass from the floor shoots arrows to your core. a task so simple that it has you wondering if your brain is healthy for getting turned on by it.

"sweetie, will you go get coach yunho a new t-shirt so he can change? yunho, go with her, she will clean that up for you." your father offers, completely oblivious of your death glares.

the young man gladly accepts. he follows you quietly through the house, not yet speaking. you unlock your room, then let him in.

"ah, so this is what this door is? your nerdy little room. always wonder every time i come over."

you rummage through the pile of unironed clothes on the ironing desk in the corner of your room, trying to tell the difference from your brother's and father's plain white t-shirts.

"so you come here often?"

"not that often," he walks over to your nightstand, looking through the window above it, "they sometimes invite me for dinner or lunch as a thank you for training their grandson. say, why do you keep your room locked?"

you plug the iron into the socket, then wait for it to warm up as you turn to face him. his fingers are tracing the corner of the nightstand, somehow seductively.

"to keep my nephew from snooping." you laugh nervously, seeing how close his hand is to the forbidden drawer.

"right," he hums, nodding his head.

the iron makes a sound, notifying you that it is ready for use. you turn your back towards him, ironing the creases in the soft fabric. you hear him walk around the room, probably admiring your poor taste of room decorating when you were seventeen. you didn't manage to redecorate much, only bring in some things from your old home. like the very toy that is buzzing in his hand right now.

"interesting."

"god, give me that." your cheeks are flaming hot.

you hid today's pink pleasure, but forgot about the yesterday's one, also from an interrupted session. he holds the silver bullet vibrator in his hand, playing with the settings on it.

"give it back! it's dirty, how can you even touch it?"

"oh, so it's recently been to places? i don't know, looks pretty clean to me."

you reach for the shiny item, but he is quick to throw it in his other hand. he smiles, amused by your poor attempts at getting the gadget back.

"we can do this all day, or..." he points it towards you, like a magic wand, "you can show me the proper use of it."

your heart drops, and your stomach feels like a centipede is walking all over it. your mouth goes dry, and your eyes feel like they're going to jump out of the sockets.

"what?" you manage to say.

"show me how you use it." he simply says.

"you're crazy. here's your t-shirt." you grab it from the desk, avoiding eye contact with him.

you hear his wet one drop on the floor, and he reaches for the one in your hand. instead of grabbing the clothing item, he grabs your wrist, pulling your body into his bare one. you gasp, eyes looking up into his as his other hand snakes around your waist, vibrator still secure between his fingers.

"those jeans are driving me crazy." he admits in a whisper. "and looking at that bed, i can't stop imagining you using this on your dripping little cunt after coming back from my practice."

you hate that he is right, but you won't tell him that. ever.

"i have more attractive things to masturbate about." you whisper too, eyes dropping down on his pink lips.

"like what?"

"like that substitute coach from monday morning?"

"ah, so your little hole only clenches for song mingi? got it."

he lets go of you, throwing the vibrator on the bed. you gulp as you watch him wear the freshly ironed warm t-shirt, eyes running down to his v-line and defined abs. he is so damn hot.

"i should get back there. wouldn't want anyone to know how desperate you are for me." he winks.

"i'm not desperate!" you reach for a pillow, ready to aim it at that smirking face.

the next few days, you ask your father to take the boy to the practice. he is sad, but if you look at yunho one more time after a good training session, after his jersey starts sticking to his skin and reveals all his curves and hollows, after his sun kissed skin starts shining from sweat, and after his veins start bulging even more, you might drop on your knees at his feet and just take him in your mouth right there in the middle of the field. with nobody around, of course.

the derby is getting closer and closer, and you go to the practice one more time before it accompanying your father. you sit quietly as you watch him fidget in his usual spot. he doesn't yell today. he doesn't instruct. he doesn't do a warmup. he lets the kids play whatever they want, just shushing them when they start cussing and punishing them with burpees. he is nervous about the game, that you know.

"hey," you call after practice.

your father is busy helping his grandson change his footwear, while you busy yourself with comforting the coach.

"it'll be good. you'll win, i know it."

"our goalkeeper is kinda shit. he has been alcoholizing himself the past few days, too nervous about the derby. i'm afraid he is going to get some kind of poisoning, or that he'll show up drunk. or hung over. i don't care about the win at that point, our image will be destroyed."

you hum, looking over at the dark clouds approaching in the distance.

"get some sleep tonight. if you want, call me. i am known to put people to sleep with my talking."

he laughs, sincerely. nothing flirty this time. "will do, darling."

"i'll see you tomorrow then, coach. hopefully with a trophy in your hand."

the game went fabulously. they destroyed the other team, despite the goal keeper being a little hung over just how yunho predicted. they all cheer, your nephew is going crazy in the front row, and so are you. shiny confetti is flying everywhere, some of it landing on yunho's head. he is holding the trophy above his head, pure happiness on his face. he is cute.

the celebration continues in the decorated basketball hall, drinks and food already served and music already blasting. the audience is slowly leaving to join the team in proper celebration, and it takes almost half an hour for the place to properly empty before you can move. a few families stay behind, cleaning after everyone and collecting lost items to hand them over to the doorkeeper later. you and your mother stay to help, collecting all the confetti and food remains.

"miss! miss!"

you turn around, almost bumping into a woman. she holds a backpack in her hand, and hands it over to you.

"would you be a sugar and go give this to player nine in the locker room? their coach had to go and didn't have time to give this to him."

"but-"

"thank you so much! i've gotta run."

and indeed, she does run. your mother nudges you with her elbow, rushing you towards the stairs and to the entrance under the bleachers.

you do not know where you are going. the hallway is empty, and there are no signs on any doors. you almost reach the end, hopelessly dragging the heavy backpack with you. a door to a locker room is half opened, and you decide to knock. receiving no response, you carefully enter, the strong smell of body spray pinching your nose.

"coach?" you call.

he doesn't answer. you set the backpack on one of the benches, then make your way towards the other side of the room. a jersey is discarded on it, the number nine proudly facing up from the bench. you reach for it, feeling the fabric in your hand. he smells so good. not a strong scent, like the rest of them have. he is more of a soft vanilla mixed with slight sandalwood. you bury your nose in the fabric, surprised that even after sweating so much after the game, the jersey isn't smelly and wet.

two hands creep onto your waist, startling you and making you jump.

"i snooped through your things, so now you have to snoop through mine?" he teases.

you feel his naked wet chest press against your thin blouse, and a slight bulge in the back of your pants. he turns you around swiftly, allowing you to take a good look at him. he is fresh out of the shower, smelling absolutely heavenly. his hair is not yet dry, waterbeads sliding down his neck and collarbones and disappearing down his v-line into the towel he has so carefully wrapped around him. it hangs low on his hips, probably on purpose.

"aren't you going to congratulate me?"

"congratulations?"

"i was thinking about a different kind of congratulations. something like..." his finger pulls at the belt hoop of your pants, then lets it snap against your skin, "this."

"you have to play another match to get to that point," you tease.

"do i now?"

truth is, you wish for nothing more than to get down on your knees and have him twitch in your mouth. you so desperately need it. so you let your hand reach for his towel, easily undoing it and letting it fall on the floor. you don't look down just yet, eyes locked with his. yunho finally grabs your face by your jaw, pulling you in for a hot kiss. his tongue is quick to find yours, circling it and rubbing it all the right ways. your blouse doesn't get unbuttoned. ripping it open seems faster to yunho, firm hands shredding the fabric and letting buttons fly to the floor. you gasp at the action, and he is quick to place his hands on your breasts. you're thankful for wearing a decent bra today, not one of those you had as a teen.

"i'll have to see you wearing my jersey and bouncing on my cock one day after practice. think you could do that?"

"i think i very much could," you say, excitement running in your veins.

yunho sits on the bench, trying to pull you into his lap. you stop him, dropping down on your knees. a proper congratulations.

you take a moment to admire his length. he isn't thick, but he is very long. he feels hot under your fingers, eager to be taken cared of. your tongue gets a first taste of him, and soon after, you're struggling to take him in. he is too big for you, but the pleasure is too good for him to back away. he grabs your hair, pushing your head down to make you swallow as much of him as you can.

"yunho?"

you freeze around his cock, eyes going wide. you are hidden by a row of lockers, but only a few steps in and the whole situation would be visible to the poor intruder.

"keep going," yunho mumbles, caressing your cheek.

you slowly start swallowing him again, working your tongue around him.

"yes?" he says, masking his pleasure well.

"everyone is waiting for you, man. they already finished off that fruit tart you were waiting for!"

"let me just take a quick shower and i'll be right there."

"if you say so."

the door shuts, and yunho spares no time in ramming his cock into your mouth a few more times before pulling you off and picking you up. he slams you against the lockers, hands firm on your thighs. he manages to take off your pants, not bothering with the panties. he only pushes them aside, and not even bothering to stretch you out beforehand, carefully inserts his hot muscle inside of you. it is no use biting your hand down to hide the noises, his pace continiously ramming into the soft spot inside of you, making your eyes roll back.

"you'll have to be a bit more quiet, baby." he says, voice low and raspy.

you look at him, your body completely relaxed in his hands as you take every pump he has to offer. yunho looks at you as if he is trying to hypnotize you, with eyes so focused on your face, examining every single reaction you have to his moves.

"we wouldn't want anyone to interrupt again, would we?"

you shake your head, unable to speak. you can only moan, louder and louder, as your fingers desperately tug on his still damp hair. having had enough of your loud noises, yunho carries you to the bench, cock still buried deep inside of you. he lays you on the bench, then reaches over your head to grab something.

"open up for me," he instructs.

you do, and he gently places his jersey between your lips so it muffles your moans.

"good girl," he praises, then continues his moves.

the fabric in your mouth proves itself useful, successfully muffling the noises you make. not long after, you feel the pleasure building up in the bottom of your stomach.

"fuck, you're clenching so much, i'm going to cum soon," he hisses, hands desperately gripping your waist.

you look at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would take the message and make you cum too. he recognizes it, and brings his hand to his mouth, wetting his fingers. he then places them on your clit, rubbing the tense bud in ways that have your back arching from the bench, mentally begging him for release already.

"fuck-" he groans, speeding up.

you bite down on the fabric, focusing on reaching the sweet release, clenching your walls to help him reach his too. he moans, for the first time, throwing his head back as he fucks his seed into you, filling you up until you can't take it anymore and let it spill on the bench. the new warm sensation inside of you triggers your own orgasm, your hands reaching for his as you twitch, orgasm washing over your body in multiple ways.

yunho holds your hands above your head, pressing kisses along your exposed collarbones and neck, calming you as you get down from the high. it takes you a while to come back to your senses, feeling yunho's hair tickling your bare skin as he still peppers your skin with kisses.

he laughs fondly, seeing what a mess he made out of you. removing the jersey from your mouth, he wastes no time in kissing you properly, this time a bit softer than before.

you pull away, the cold air from the air conditioner finally hitting your bare skin and sweat, making you shiver.

"so..." you breathe out.

"so..." he repeats.

"when is your next match again?"

feedback greatly appreciated! 💕

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angelltheninth · 4 months

Text

Coriolanus Snow Manipulates You

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you with sweet words and praise. You don't even ever get a word of doubt in because he already has words to reassure you with. You may make him want to be a better man but that doesn't mean that he won't still slip back into his sweet words to make you see things like he wants you to.

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you by overwhelming you with big events you have to attend together. If you're always busy planning for the next big thing you have no time to dwell on the little imperfections of the way he's running things. He lets you have as much control over what you wear and who you talk to during these events to make you think you're the one in control.

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you when he takes you on vacations with him away from the Capitol. Completely isolated and alone with him he has time to talk to you and uncover any seeds of doubt you make have towards him or his love for you. And get rid of them over the next few days all under the illusion that he just wanted some alone time with his lover.

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you every time he buys you gifts. They aren't things you've told him you want but things that will make you feel almost guilty about him buying. He says he only bought them because he wanted you to have them, and that all he asks for in return is that you love him and stay by his side.

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you when he kisses you more time then you can count in a single day. He's lovebombing you but you don't even realize it because he's been away and busy for a bit, leaving you starved for his love and attention, making you think that he's just trying to make up for lost time.

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you when he vows to make love to you any time you want, breaking that promise because of his duties and then fucking you so much you can't help but tell him how much you love him. It's this tactic of being away and then giving you all of him once he's back that keeps you torn between the two extremes, not seeing the middle at all.

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you as he fucks you with your wedding rings on. He makes sure to keep your hand in his and always in your field of vision, no matter how blurry your eyes get. It serves as a constant reminder that you are his and he is yours, that was the promises you made.

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you by making sure to look you in the eye when he comes, telling you about the family he wants to start, the better life he wants to build with you. He looks at your stomach, currently flat but in his eyes you can almost see the family he wants to make with you. You think of how wonderful it would be, to have him by your side as you raise your kids.

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you when he constantly tells you how good you are for him, how much he would love spending every moment of the day inside you and making sure you get that family you've talked about. He doesn't want there to be any room for doubt in your mind over how devoted he is to you, even when he's fucking you so hard you can barely understand what he's saying.

Coriolanus Snow manipulates you by inviting you into his office and having sex with you there. See nothing is more important to him then you and making you feel good. Not even his work. What you fail to notice is that most of those papers have already been signed, he didn't have to fuck you in his office but he chose to.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you

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teaboot · 1 year

Text

I spent a lot of time alone outdoors growing up.

A lot of time.

It got to the point that some days I'd be sitting in the back of my dull beige classroom, and on the outside I'd be staring out into nothing but on the inside I'd be remembering how it felt being barefoot and knee-deep in sun-warmed mud, cutting my palms and soles to bits against craggy rock, leaning into the wind and screaming into the ocean, sprinting through the woods and standing dead silent in the dark in a wheat field in a thunderstorm, and feeling grit under my nails and bone and wood and rock and metal in my hands

And I'd look around at my stupid, flimsy pressboard desk, and the beige walls, and the grey ceiling, and feel soft, stagnant air circulate through the vents in delicate, dainty little puffs against my cheeks, and listen to kids my age who I couldn't understand and didn't feel connected to talk about things that made my brain go numb and melt out my ears while some fake-smiley adult pretended they knew how I felt

While back home where my siblings didnt know me and my parents didn't like me the house would be dark, empty, and cold, day after day, and the only satisfaction I knew I'd get would be if someone twice my size and three times my age got in my face and fucking tried it,

And I'd think,

This isn't real.

This is designed, and this is weak.

This is cardboard façades with nothing inside, this is tissue paper, this is Styrofoam packing peanuts and puffed rice wafers and the bottom three millimeters of day-old room-temperature water

And I'd get so fucking angry, so frustrated, just so stone-cold livid, helpless and furious, that sometimes I'd start to cry, not because I was sad but because my teeth were soft and round and dull and my fingers felt like they were brand-new pink pearl erasers splitting in half and everything was too much and not enough and all I needed in the whole wild world was to shred the air to pieces for the crime of being too fucking empty, too fucking soft, not *real* enough, like a wild animal clawing into prey only to have puffy cotton candy and soap bubbles spill out, sweet and tasteless and saccharine where it should be hot, bright, loud and solid and sharp.

So when the English teacher- a tall, thin man with glasses who smelled like strong patchouli and liked to ask us to "talk about our feelings" asked me to write about my life, that was what I wrote.

He told me I had a "powerful gift" and smiled, flashing straight, dull, soft round teeth.

I remember he'd ask me every day if he could read my work aloud to the class, every single day, and every day I would say "no", until one afternoon he just took my paper off my desk and did it anyways.

I was a rule-follower. Never broke the rules, never stepped out of line. I would never just leave class in the middle of a lesson, so I guess for a moment I was someone else.

I don't remember hearing him start to speak, but I remember sprinting out the door, hearing it slam behind me, and just not stopping until I was somewhere outside with the grass and the sky and the sun and a ringing inside my head.

After a while, I went back, and by then I guess he'd finished talking.

I sat down at my desk and finished the lesson.

I thought I'd be in trouble or something after that, but nobody mentioned it.

After the bell, I went home to the dark, cold, empty house and waited for something to fight.

That was years ago. Decades, now.

To tell you the truth, though, I don't think anything has changed.

#Writing #Long post #Lol #Sensory issues and social issues and isolation and fear #And anger and joy and the loneliness of not understanding #Probably just anxious understimulated and a lil bit feral #What can ya do #Shrug #Old memories

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alchemicaladarna · 2 months

Text

OK HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET OVER THAT ENDING MR HALO???

We all expected Dapper to wander around the flower fields and *jumpscare* we find Bad's body and it's going to be haunting yet sad at the same time, but I argue this is infinitely worse.

Like, I thought Pomme might have seen Bad die yesterday, but nope- they don't even know he DIED. They spent the entire day looking for him, confused as to why he's nowhere to be found. They're just two kids looking for their dead father.

And then the last scene; Dapper riding out alone to the middle of the ocean to look for his dad, thinking he just wandered far away.

The ghosts try to hold him, try to shout, but we could barely whisper, "Oh honey, he's right here. He's in the fields- please just look closer. Wait Dapper, where are you going? Sweetie no, don't leave, there's nothing- don't leave-"

And then we or Bad's ghost is just left on the shores, helplessly watching her get farther out into the horizon, unable to follow, unable to call her name.

He was there, Dapper. He was right there, the whole time. And he's still there, waiting for you.

#qsmp #qsmp badboyhalo #badboyhalo #LIKE HOW AM I GONNA FUCKING RECOVER FROM THAT #ill be thinking about this tonight #like man just the staring into the empty horizon as dapper travels into the night...alone...#qsmp pomme #qsmp dapper #tw death

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queenshelby · 4 months

Text

An Illicit Affair

Part Two: Jazz Bar

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

The jazz concert took place in a small bar, downtown Soho. It was a Thursday evening, at around 9 o'clock, when you arrived at the establishment with the view to meet your best friend and fellow student Lucy there. Lucy was two years older than you and you shared a dorm room with her on campus.

Just like you, Lucy was nerdy and focused on her studies, telling you years ago that you should not have gotten involved with Max but, of course, you did not listen to her at the time.

That evening, Lucy stood you down, not intentionally but out of necessity. She had an assignment due the following day and recognized that she had not spent enough time on its content.

So, at around nine that evening, you received a message from her saying that she had to bail on you, leaving you alone in the quirky bar which, by now, was filled with art students, middle aged men and women and a few musicians.

Still, you were determined to make the most of the night. After all, your favorite band was playing, and this alone encouraged you to order yourself a drink and take a seat close to the stage.

A few minutes later, the band started a lively tune, and soon everyone began dancing.

You found yourself swaying to the rhythm, feeling the energy of the crowd enveloping you and, just as you were starting to get lost in the music, you spotted a familiar face.

It was Cillian, Max's father, who was standing near the bar, nursing a glass of red wine.

The sight of him jolted you, sending a wave of mixed emotions coursing through your veins. You hadn't seen him since that fateful weekend in Dublin over fifteen months ago, and the memory of his captivating blue eyes and mesmerizing voice lingered within you. You watched him from afar, unable to tear your gaze away.

Cillian appeared to be engrossed in a conversation with a group of people, but every once in a while, he would glance around the room, scanning the faces of the attendees.

That's when his gaze landed on you and he excused himself from the group of people he was with.

Approaching you with purpose, he smiled warmly. "Y/N, hey...it's nice to see you again," he greeted you. "How have you been?" he wanted to know and, immediately, his deep voice resonated through your body, stirring a familiar spark within you.

"I'm doing well, thank you," you responded, trying to remain composed. "How about you?" you asked before asking "what brings you here tonight?" with some surprise.

"Oh, I saw that this band was performing and thought I'd check them out," Cillian explained casually with his thick Irish accent.

"Are you in London for work or to see Max?" you asked Cillian, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I am here for work, shooting a commercial, but I did catch up with Max yesterday for dinner," Cillian answered. "He seems to be doing well, even though he dropped out of medical school," he explained, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness knowing that you may have been the reason he quit his studies.

"I am sorry Cillian, I feel like I caused this," you admitted hesitantly, remembering the countless arguments you had with him about his lackadaisical attitude towards academics right before the break-up.

"No, you didn't. If anything, he hung in there as long as he did because of you," Cillian reassured you. "He is a good kid, but he lacks the discipline and commitment for such a difficult field of studies, and I must admit that, so did I, when I was his age," he chuckled before telling you that, at the age of twenty, he dropped out of law school.

"Well, fortunately for you, you discovered acting and that clearly turned out to be your calling," you said with a wink and Cillian laughed heartily, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"That's right, I guess," he agreed, sipping on his wine. "So, no doubt Max will find his way too, at least once he gets over you," he then added calmly before gesturing towards the chair next to yours, wanting to take a seat.

"I am sure he is over me. It's been a year already and I see him quite often on campus these days. He may have transferred to the Arts Faculty, but he is still chatting up and flirting with the medical students," you joked before indicating to Cillian to take the seat.

"He's a charmer, that's for sure," Cillian said with a hint of pride in his voice. "So, tell me," he leaned in closer, his scent intoxicating, "have you narrowed down your field of practice yet? Are you still interested in pediatrics?" Cillian asked you, his eyes sparkling with interest. "I mean, you mentioned it the last time we saw each other, but have you decided on anything yet?" Cillian pressed further, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I suppose that's accurate," you replied, feeling a surge of nervousness wash over you. "Pediatrics is definitely the direction I'm leaning towards, particularly oncology research."

"Oncology? That's fascinating," Cillian remarked, his eyes widening.

"Why oncology specifically?" he pressed, genuinely curious. "Is it because of your friend who battled leukemia? I remember you talking that," he went on to say and you were impressed by the fact that he remembered. Unlike Max, Cillian appeared to be a good listener and you appreciated that.

"Yes, that's right. Ever since visiting my friend in the hospital, I've been fascinated by the idea of using science to combat diseases. Research gives me the opportunity to contribute to the advancement of healthcare," you explained earnestly.

Cillian tilted his head, studying you closely. "Your dedication is admirable," he complimented, admiration glimmering in his eyes, and you blushed faintly, feeling flattered by his praise.

"Thank you, Cillian," you mumbled shyly before downing the rest of your drink.

"Would you like another drink?" Cillian thus asked, being observant, as he settled into the chair, his scent wafted over you, a mix of expensive cologne and freshly laundered linen. "My shout," he then went on to say as he noticed you hesitating and, immediately, you suppressed a shiver, suddenly aware of the intimate setting you'd created.

"Okay," you muttered nervously, gazing down at your empty glass. "Thank you," went on to say and, not long after that, Cillian walked off and instructed the bartender, handing over his credit card.

When he returned to the table, you both fell quiet again, awkwardly staring at the dance floor. The band played a slow, bluesy number, and couples danced intimately beneath the dim glow of the stage lights.

Feeling increasingly uneasy, you attempted to change the subject. "How is Danielle?" you asked, swirling the wine in your glass.

Cillian hesitated, his expression clouding over. "Alright, I suppose," he muttered, a hint of melancholy creeping into his voice.

"Alright, you suppose?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. The way he answered your question seemed absurd.

"Yeah, well, things aren't exactly smooth sailing with us," he admitted reluctantly. "We have been having problems for years," he confided in you, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," you sympathized, genuine concern etching your features. "Max did mentioned about you fighting a lot," you commented cautiously, careful not to cross any boundaries.

Cillian exhaled deeply, his shoulders drooping slightly. "We've been trying to work things out but it hasn't been easy," he confessed, his voice laced with sorrow. "Sometimes it feels like we're stuck in a cycle of misunderstandings, accusations and resentment," he admitted.

"I may have heard about certain rumors, in the tabloids, concerning you and other actresses," you ventured delicately, "but I know that these gossip magazines tend to blow things out of proportion," you quickly added just as Cillian chuckled and interrupted you.

"I didn't take you to be the kind of person who reads these kinds of magazines Y/N. I am really disappointed in you," he mocked, giving you a sideways glance, which made you blush.

"I don't, unless I am at the hairdressers and my phone is running low on battery," you admitted, meeting his gaze. "And I know the press loves to feed on drama," you added defensively, trying to cover up the embarrassment.

"Well then, for what it's worth, I can assure you that I have never cheated on my wife," Cillian stated plainly, his eyes locked on yours. "Not that I haven't had the opportunity though," he admitted without hesitation, his honesty striking you speechless.

"I am sure you have had many opportunities," you commented lightly, shifting uncomfortably in your seat.

"Maybe not many, but I had some," Cillian laughed before changing the topic to something lighter.

"What about you?" he asked. "Have you met anyone new since you broke up with Max?" he wanted to know before apologizing for his question, telling you that you did not have to answer it if it made you uncomfortable.

You swallowed nervously, your pulse quickening at the mention of your former lover. "No, it's okay," you told him. "I haven't had much time for dating," you lied, fiddling with your napkin. "Med school takes up most of my time," you added, not wanting to reveal the truth that no one had caught your attention since Max, at least not yet.

Cillian nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine," he said, before pausing briefly, watching you sip your drink before continuing with caution. "So, besides med school, what keeps you busy?" he questioned, curiosity burning in his eyes.

You sighed softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Not much, honestly," you confessed, shrugging nonchalantly. "I mean, there's the occasional date with friends, dinners with family, and that's pretty much it," you admitted. "I can't lie though, it does get lonely sometimes," you revealed, peering down at your lap.

"I get like this when I am away filming for weeks," Cillian shared, nodding sympathetically. "When the loneliness creeps in, it makes you feel so isolated, doesn't it?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, absolutely," you agreed, your voice barely audible. "I've learned to appreciate moments like these, though, because they remind me how precious human connection truly is," you confided in him, reaching to clasp your hands together.

Cillian gazed at you, his gaze softening. "It must be tough, being so dedicated to your studies. How do you manage to balance everything?" he pondered aloud.

"I've developed strategies to cope. For instance, I set aside time for myself each day, whether it's going for a run or reading a book," you admitted, your voice trailing off and it was at this point that you learned that you shared even more common interests with Cillian.

He, too, liked to go for runs and read, and not just scripts for upcoming projects. He enjoyed historical fiction as well as thrillers, and his literary horizons were broad. You found this refreshing, considering how insular and self-involved actors could be.

After ordering more drinks, you and Cillian talked some more and shared some laughs. Your conversations flowed effortlessly, covering various subjects ranging from books you both loved to visit places you hoped to travel to someday. Cillian spoke passionately about the beauty of Ireland and its rich history, while you eagerly described your fascination with Italy, having taken a trip there during your gap year.

You exchanged stories, sharing experiences both past and present, discovering more similarities between the two of you. Cillian was intrigued by your intelligence and wit, while you admired his charm and charisma. The chemistry between you intensified, growing stronger with each passing moment.

By the time it was midnight, the group of people he had talked to earlier left and the music had stopped, which is when Cillian reached across the table to refill your glass from the bottle of wine he had ordered thirty minutes ago and, just as he did, his fingers brushed against yours, igniting a spark that neither of you could ignore.

An awkward silence ensued, but instead of dissipating quickly, it grew thicker with tension.

Cillian's intense gaze bore into you, leaving a trail of goosebumps along your arms. You glanced at the stage, searching for a distraction, but the band had packed up their instruments and left.

Cillian cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Well, time flies when you' are having fun," he murmured, his voice husky and seductive. "It is nice talking to you, but it is getting late," he added, checking his watch conspicuously. "And I should probably head back to the hotel," he concluded and you blinked twice.

"Where are you staying?" you blurted out impulsively, catching yourself off guard by your sudden curiosity.

"At the Hilton," Cillian replied simply, adjusting his posture in his seat. "It's not far from here, actually," he added, his voice drifting into a contemplative tone.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, contemplating your next move. "That's convenient," you murmured, attempting to sound casual. "I have heard that they have a decent bar downstairs," you stammered, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

Cillian chuckled softly, his eyes glinting mischievously. "They do. So, perhaps we should grab a nightcap before you are heading home," he offered you almost nervously, causing your heart to race.

"I would like that," you said softly, offering him a gentle smile, hoping that he would interpret it correctly.

With a nod, Cillian rose from his seat, his frame casting a shadow over you. He extended his hand, helping you to your feet. You felt the warmth of his touch and the strength of his grip, and your knees weakened slightly.

As you followed him towards the exit, the crowd parted, making way for you two as if silently acknowledging the magnetic pull between you two.

Once outside, the cool air hit you, a stark contrast to the heat inside the bar.

The neon signs cast a hazy glow on the cobblestone streets, and the distant hum of traffic blended seamlessly with the whispers of passersby. A sense of excitement pulsed through you as you allowed your senses to heighten, embracing the intoxicating atmosphere.

You and Cillian headed for the Hilton, which was a five-minute walk from the jazz club.

As you approached the hotel lobby, the ambient lighting and plush furnishings provided a cozy refuge from the chilly night air but, much to your disappointment, you noticed that their bar was already closed.

"I suppose we won't be having that nightcap after all," you lamented, pouting your lips while Cillian contemplated whether or not to ask you to join him in his room.

He bit his lip, looking up at the ceiling before making a decision.

"We could always go to my room and order a bottle of wine," he then suggested, his voice trembling slightly. "If you want to, that is," he added hastily, turning his gaze onto you and, immediately, your heart skipped a beat, your breath hitching as you stared into his deep blue eyes.

"Okay, yeah, why not," you managed to utter, feeling a rush of nerves wash over you. "Just for one drink though," you insisted, hoping to ease your mounting anxiety while Cillian's piercing blue eyes lighted up.

"Sounds perfect," he agreed, leading you towards the elevator bank with a pang of guilt flooding his mind as he thought about the possibility of taking this further than his vows would permit. "Just one drink then," he thus reminded himself as he pushed the button for the top floor, hoping that his loyalty to Max and Danielle would prevail over the desire for you.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic

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archangeldyke-all · 2 months

Note

could u pls do more of sevika and reader w/ a child from a past relationship which our child is jealous of both reader and sevika like sev can’t even try holding our hand cuz little fuckers will literally be demanding for sev’s hand and vice-versa

this is so. fucking. cute.

men and minors dni

there are a lot of things you didn't expect when you first introduced sevika to your kid.

you didn't expect them to get along so well so quickly. the moment they met, a bond was forged between the two that you doubt anything could break.

you didn't expect your girl to start referring to sevika as 'babe' the same way you do.

you didn't expect her to call you the same, either.

you didn't expect sevika to become so clingy and attached to your daughter, calling you every night she isn't at your place so she can talk to your girl on the phone and coming to each and every one of her school performances or conferences or field trips.

and you certainly didn't expect your little girl's jealousy.

the first time you notice it, the three of you are walking to pick up your dinner. your kid's a few feet ahead of you and sevika, jumping in puddles and stopping to examine rocks and leaves. sevika's fingers are intertwined between yours, your hands swinging between your bodies as you walk.

your girl turns around at one point, grinning as she holds up a rock she wants the two of you to look at, only for her smile to falter when she sees that you guys are holding hands. she pouts, dropping the rock to her side, and you and sev swarm around her, worried.

"what's wrong, babe?" you ask. your daughter huffs.

"stop holdin' hands without me!" she whines, smacking your joint hands with her little fists.

you laugh and let go of sevika's hand, only for your kid to shove her way between the two of your bodies. she grabs sevika's hand in her left and yours in her right, and only then does her pout lessen.

"you jealous?" sevika teases. your daughter nods.

"'s no fair! i wanna hold your hands too!"

the next time it happens, sevika's playing with your rugrat while you're cleaning up the house. you can hear the two of them laughing, and there's a soft smile on your face while you work.

sevika sneaks away a few minutes later to check in on you where you're cleaning the stovetop.

"you okay in here?" she asks. you smile and twirl around to wrap your arms around sevika's waist, burying your face against her chest. she hums and presses a kiss to your head.

"i'm good. almost done." you mumble against her.

"hey!" a little voice pipes up from behind you. you both turn to look at the entrance of the kitchen where your daughter stands, both of her hands on her hips and a furrow in her brow. "leave sevvy alone mom, it's my turn to play with her!" she shouts.

you snort, and hug sevika tighter toward your body. "you're gonna have to take her from me babe." you tease. your daughter huffs, then runs forward to grab sevika's wrist, tugging her away from you.

"c'mon sev!" she whines. sevika laughs.

"she was mine first!" you cry.

"too bad, so sad!" your daughter responds, sticking her tongue out at you. you laugh, and let go of your grip on your girlfriend, sighing.

"sorry babe, we got a game of dinosaurs to get back to." sevika says as your daughter marches her out of the kitchen. you just roll your eyes and laugh.

one night, sevika wakes you up in the middle of the night with kisses to your neck.

you smile as you roll over, capturing her lips against yours and humming happily against her mouth. she sighs.

"think you can be quiet?" she whispers as her hand trails up your bare thigh and starts fiddling with your underwear. you grin.

"can you?" you ask. sevika snorts as she shoves her hand under your waistband.

"i'm not the one who's gonna be cumming my brains out in a few minutes." she whispers.

"yeah, but you got that dirty mouth on you-- can never shut the fuck up when you got your hands on me." you tease. sevika bites your throat and you gasp.

"fuck off." she whispers as she starts rubbing circles against your clit. you bury your face against her shoulder, muffling your moans against her sleep shirt. "can't get enough of you." she mumbles. you whimper.

"you too." you say. she chuckles.

"what're you doing?" a quiet, tiny voice suddenly asks. you both gasp, sevika launches herself toward the other side of the bed and you shoot up in bed to look at your daughter.

she's standing in the doorway, rubbing her eyes, her teddybear held close to her chest. you blink at her, and beside you, sevika starts to laugh.

"w-we're cuddling." you say. your daughter huffs.

"without me!?" she exclaims. you laugh and lean back down against the bed.

"c'mon." you say, resigned to the fact that you likely won't be cumming your brains out anytime soon.

your daughter laughs and launches herself into your bed, cuddling up against your side, then tugging sevika toward her.

"c'mon sevvy, you gotta make me a sandwich!" she demands. sevika laughs as she rolls over, holding your daughter from the other side, the two of you squishing her between you. she sighs happily. "that's better." she says. you snort, and press a kiss to her head, and sevika follows suit, kissing her cheek before settling down against bed.

"goodnight kid." sevika whispers.

"night sevvy. night mom."

"g'night babies." you reply.

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika

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aheathen-conceivably · 2 months

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Part of Zelda loved the last few years of their lives. At its simplest, it reminded her of being in England again, of standing in the fields with her father and making every recipe from scratch with her mother. Life felt warmer here than it had in New Orleans, calmer and quieter and more akin to something she had envisioned for herself.

Of course there was pain as well, backbreaking constant pain and endless drudgery. Sometimes it reminded her of how much she liked standing in a crowded cafe or club and feeling everyone’s energy come together in one tumultuous surge. Compared to that, it often felt like she had only known two extremes in her life, and she had swung between the two without ever really finding herself in the middle.

Then there was the desperation, constantly turning and monitoring the soil, adding any and every shell or skin she could spare, and hauling countless buckets of water from the nearby stream. It was knowing that living or dying fell upon your back and the roof over everyone’s heads relied on your efforts. But in doing so it sometimes felt like a spirit overtook one, one that actually understood her purpose and called her Little Robin on even his darkest days.

Only recently the desperation had taken on a new tone, one independent of Gio’s debts or her child’s hunger. One that even her father wouldn’t have understood. It was her burden, and her burden alone, seen and shared by Antoine but really only felt by her. Because she could till this soil; she could monitor it and will the crops to grow as though through sheer willpower and knowledge alone. Only she couldn’t do the same for herself.

Because at least this seemingly barren soil was growing something. There was life and hope in it, fully grown plants and crops on the edge of being harvested. She had poured her soul into it, and it had responded in turn. She needed them to grow, not only for the reasons everyone else did, but because she couldn’t seem to grow anything within herself.

She was walking the fields, picking away dead leaves and checking under each one for bugs when she saw it: a sapphire glittering amidst the greenery in the ever-present sunshine. She reached forward slowly, moving each leaf aside hesitantly as though half expecting to look down and see yet another dashed hope that had existed only for a moment.

But then she bent down into the soil and it was real: a perfectly grown ear of corn. Untouched by bugs or drought or heat. She had done it. It had grown. In an inaudible whisper she called out to Gio across the farmyard. Realizing that he was probably preoccupied still trying to dig out their well she called out again, and again, until her amazed voice finally rose to an audible volume.

He rounded the fence, his eyes filled with apprehension that another bud had been eaten in the night or the leaves inexplicably wilting. Instead he saw Zelda standing there, an ear of corn in her hand and a smile on her face.

He immediately threw his shovel into the dirt and ran toward her, “We did it, Zelda! We really fucking did it!” For a moment he just held her in shared amazement, and Zelda could swear that he was going to cry. All of his emotions poured out onto her so that she could feel he had no way to contain his gratitude, until he picked her up and swung her amidst the tall verdant plants growing all around them, “Jesus Christ who am I kidding, you did it! This farm…it, I was nothing until you got here, until you made all this happen!”

Zelda let herself be swept off her feet, lost in his characteristically infectious joy. Because he didn’t know why she had worked so hard on these fields, or that she often walked the rows thinking of them in relation to herself. He only knew she had given him something, everything he seemed to dream of in that moment, and that together they had actually done it. They had made life grow from nothing.

Across the farmyard, Josephine watched them, and a small fire started in her heart. With a jolt she realized that this was what jealousy must feel like. She had never given a fuck about who Gio or any of her partners had danced or laughed or flirted with, so long as she knew and they didn’t use it against her when the time came. But it couldn’t be, not here, not now. Not her.

This was Zelda. Her best friend, her sister. They worked and lived there together day in and day out, but then he set her on the ground and her laughter rang out through the farmyard, and Josephine realized that it was her. It was the joy she and Gio shared over a goddamn ear of corn. One single ear of corn. It was as infuriating as all of life was here, because it didn’t feel like living at all. It felt like a constant game of survival that transformed your life into a series of meaningless tasks without purpose or delineation rather than something that was actually yours to live.

Because life here wasn’t simpler for Josephine the way it was for Zelda. There was nothing nostalgic or calming about it. No sound of her father’s voice to guide her through the pain or personal drive tying her to the constant, backbreaking work. She tried, every goddamn day she tried, just like she promised Giorgio and herself that she would; but it felt like the land itself was draining her soul bit by bit.

Yet here was Zelda, who seemed like some sort of old world fertility goddess standing amongst the plants she had grown from soil that wouldn’t yield for anyone else. For years, she had done nothing but give and give as she worked alongside Giorgio to make his damn dream come true, all the while thoughts of running away continued to plague Josephine in the night. Zelda had poured her soul into the desolate land to make it grow. Josephine dreamed of setting it on fire.

Jesus, she didn’t want to. She wanted to fall onto the orange sands of Strangerville and somehow sprout into the perfect farm wife too. That’s why she was jealous. She wanted to be that happy when a single goddamn ear of corn had grown, to share in the simple joy of the man she loved over something she couldn’t help but find infuriating. It seemed like he was happy because he had someone to share that joy with now, someone who could make his dreams come true and give him all of herself so totally. It made her think that maybe the problem was her; she had simply not given enough of herself to be happy. But she didn’t quite know how.

#1932 #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #sims 4 decades challenge #the darlingtons #sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 story #ts4 story #1930s #Zelda darlington #Josephine Duplanchier #Giorgio Mistretta

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yuurei20 · 6 months

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Translation from Twisted Wonderland the 2nd novel: Leona and Jack (pt1/4)

"It was three years ago, when Jack was still in middle school.

He saw the Night Raven College Spelldrive tournament on television, and had been captivated."

With their flawless teamwork, Savanaclaw Dorm had secured an overwhelming victory. And there was one athlete, in particular, that Jack hadn't been able to take his eyes off of. His judgement, agility and skills were beyond compare, and the entire team had revolved around him.

A first year student who had only just enrolled: Leona Kingscholar.

'So this is the kind of amazing person that goes to Night Raven College.' Jack had recorded the match immediately, watching it over and over again.

If he had been on the opposing team, how would he have fought against Leona? If they had been on the same team, how would they have worked together? It was fun just to think about.

The following year, that Malleus Draconia had enrolled in the school. There had been a lot of talk leading up to the competition and, as expected, Malleus alone had dominated with his exceptional talent.

Jack watched Savanaclaw suffer a brutal defeat, but he had not been disappointed. Instead, he had felt a surge of passion. He had been deeply moved by the sight of Leona and his team fighting with all they had, and losing.

Admittedly, those who saw the tournament that day spoke of nothing but Malleus. Not a single other player on the field had been able to leave any sort of impression whatsoever.

But standing and fighting against such a formidable opponent and giving it their all--Savanaclaw had been awe-inspiring.

No matter how incredible Malleus’ power might be, from a team perspective, Savanaclaw—led by Leona, whom they had made into their boss—had excelled far beyond everyone else.

The roar of frustration that Leona released that day had stirred something alive inside of Jack.

Someday, I want to fight someone as strong as he is.

‘Back then, you were so amazing when you tried. That’s why I…!’

‘Don’t act like you already know all that’s going on, new kid!’ Leona’s reprimand echoes around them, putting everyone on edge.

There is no creature alive that will not cower before a lion’s roar.

Even Ruggie, who can be said to be Leona’s confidant, holds his breath.

‘You’re telling me to try? What a joke. And what will that change?’ Leona’s anger is most acute, intimidating to the point it is demoralizing.

Faced with such pressure from a man who is normally so unreadable, Jack feels sweat running down his back."

#twstnovel2 #Jack Howl #Leona Kingscholar #twisted wonderland #twst translations

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runningupthatvecna · 1 year

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the law of seat partners

alrighty so ya gurl had a dream about eddie last night and here i am trying to use that to base the following something off of.

part 2

cw/tw: eddie munson being a slightly touchy precious bean. a slight bit of angst. feeling left out/mentions of feeling unwanted if you squint. otherwise, none that i could think of, just my silly brain fluff. if you find something else, please let me know yaaa. no mentions of y/n.

summary: you're going on a high school field trip with your friends. and thankfully, a long haired metalhead is also there to keep you company and ease the pain of being around obnoxious children.

side note: this is literally the first fic thing i've written in literal YEARS (also in English) and first ever time writing for Eddie, so bare with me here, i've gotten quite rusty i guess so i truly apologise if it's rather bad. don't mind me and please reblog/leave me comments if you did enjoy this pure fluff something!

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It was the sunniest May morning the town of Hawkins had ever seen. The bluest sky above the forests and fields, downtown, the infamous trailer park and the parking lot of Hawkins High.

You sighed as you placed your car in parking mode before opening the door and sliding out, just so you could grab your belongings - a rather big bag filled with all sorts of items that you were certain you were going to need for surviving the next week - out from the backseat.

A field trip with students with an age range from bloody twelve to the wise years of nineteen, well, twenty to be specific, was on your agenda in the almost last month of your last year of high school, and thankfully you were not gonna be stuck in some forest next to Lake Superior alone by yourself.

Being forced to exist around screaming twelve year olds who were about to enter puberty was your least favourite part of the whole expedition, which made the presence of your group of best friends so much more valuable.

There was one person whose attendance you'd specifically been hoping for. And yes, of course you and your friends had been talking about the trip months ago so it would be clear who would join in the fun, but with Eddie's tendency to be flaky when it came to decisions like this, one could never be fully sure.

I mean yeah, certainly you were looking forward to spending this week by the lakeside with Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and the younger kids in freshmen year, but nothing could make the thought of being stuck with a group of middle schoolers and teachers more bearable than being stuck there with the one guy who you - to put it frankly - had a thing for.

You couldn't really say that you were as close with him as you were with Steve or Robin, you never really spent time with him outside of the group hangouts. But that didn't mean that there was any weird distance between the two of you when the lucky occasion of hanging out did come around.

Eddie Munson was a metalhead. Through and through. Tough exterior, soft baby cow personality but could turn stone cold when necessary. When people tried to shame him for being different, for example.

You were also very certain that his love language was touch, based on the times he would throw his arm around you when casually walking you to your next class or the way he would playfully wrestle Dustin or Lucas in the cafeteria during lunch break to show he didn't hate them.

"Oh my god, I'm so glad you're here!"

Max had spotted you in line and apparently didn't feel too much guilt for cutting it just so she could hop on the bus together with you.

You mumbled the same thing back to her, wondering if you were the first or last ones of your party to go through Miss Kelley's check-in.

She greeted the both of you with a toothy smile before she turned her focus onto the sheet with students' names. Your eyes wandered over the rows of seat pairs, and since you had arrived at the parking lot, let's say not late but also not early either, most of them were already filled with loudly chatting kids.

"Hopefully the others saved us a seat", you heard Max say from in front of you. Unlike you, she already had a pre-determined seat buddy. "Oh please, it's obvious that Sinclair kept one for you", you quipped back, silently hoping you could potentially be sitting next to Steve or at least Robin.

And even if Eddie was going to join you, he'd probably be sitting with Chrissy. Or Gareth.

"That might be true, but I'm sure you'll be just fine with where you'll end up."

Max stepped further into the bus after she gave you a wink and a slight grin.

Did she know more than you?

Good boy Steve was rather easy for you to spot. With that amount of hair peeking out above the sea of headrests? No wonder. In fact, most of your friends were already seated further in the back of the one-story bus.

A slight hint of disappointment clouded your brain at the sight of Steve and Robin sharing a seat pair, with Nancy and Jonathan right behind them. Your fear of being the one left out and behind was creeping out from the back of your mind, acting up.

People had always been kind enough to endure you, but no one ever really chose you. Or at least made you feel like you belonged.

Lucas indeed had the seat next to him reserved for Max, to where she continued her strut down the aisle to plop down, while Dustin and Will had agreed to share theirs.

Surprising they made it out of bed this early.

You took a few more steps towards the back of the bus. A wide grinned Erica was seated amongst her friends in the center of the very back row, your eyes scanning the seats until they landed on the wild dark mane of a certain metalhead, who was occupying the pair of seats right behind the stairs down to the back door.

He was practically lying in the window seat. Head resting against the glass, staring out to observe the students who hadn't set foot onto the bus yet. Parents who were lecturing their kids one last time before letting them go.

Was he daydreaming? What could possibly be going on in that pretty head of his?

Your heart jumped and your stomach fluttered when he shifted his gaze to the aisle where you were standing. The widest smile spread over his face at the sight of you, and you hated to admit to yourself that it did not leave you unaffected.

The seat next to him was empty.

It took Eddie a few seconds to remember what his initial plan was. As if something in his brain clicked, as if a bolt of lightning had hit him, he straightened himself and got up.

"Uh hi there. I, uh, kept you a seat if, uh, in case you'd like to sit with me."

Eddie the freak Munson. Had thought of and would be willing to sharing seats for a 10 hour bus ride. With you, of all people?

In the light of the sunlight flooded bus, you could see his cheeks adjusting to the colour of your own. Flushed pink.

And you just couldn't help the wide grin that was pulling at the corners of your mouth.

Now both of you were standing in the aisle facing each other.

"I would love to, Munson."

Quickly you took out the essentials for the journey from your bag: headphones and your walkman, your tape collection that you wouldn't leave the house without, a novel, some water and a tote bag with your carefully selected snacks.

Eddie waited patiently for you to get comfortable, standing there in the aisle in his signature leather jacket and denim dio vest, while leaning against the backrest of his own seat, watching your every move.

Once you swung yourself around into your seat, Eddie plopped down next to you with an equally wide grin plastered across his face while pointing his ringed index finger at the snack bag.

"You know, you're gonna have to share those with me."

You turned your head around to face him, eyebrow raised.

His chocolate brown doe eyes were so so softly looking at you. If you didn't know better they'd melt you on the spot.

"Oh really, do I?"

"Yeah, it's the unspoken yet official law of seat partners, sweetheart."

You chuckled at his silliness and the pet name, the nervousness which you had gotten from the thought of him very obviously thinking of you when it came to the decision of who to sit next to, all gone.

He wanted to be physically close to you.

He wanted to spend that time on the bus around you.

He chose you.

After Steve, Robin and all the others from your group had acknowledged your presence as well with genuine smiles, and the last few kids had found their seats, it was time to leave Hawkins.

The bus hit the highway towards Chicago pretty soon after departure.

Eddie let you sit in the window seat, which eventually led to him conveniently using your shoulder as a pillow. And no, you didn't mind the weight. It was Eddie.

Hell, you were having a hard time keeping yourself from wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer.

"Does this also fall under the law of seat partners?", you asked curiously, placing a hand on Eddie's head and slightly scratching his scalp.

The only thing you got in return was a satisfied, sleepy "mhm" and a squeeze and rub of his warm hand over your thigh, but it was enough for your mind to drift off, wondering which other of Eddie's love languages and further details of his ridiculous seat partner law you'd come to discover on this trip.

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tagged: my beloved ellen @josephfakingquinn <3

#eddie munson #nora writes #oh wow this turned out to be longer than expected #lol #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things fluff #eddie munson fluff #the law of seat partners

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heartthrobin · 1 year

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paint my sunset peach (1)

mechanic!eddie munson x farmgirl!reader

wc: 6.71k

warnings: reader is a little bit of a meanie, dirty sweaty eddie, hella pining, sunshine!eddie + grumpy!reader, swearing but otherwise pretty wholesome, limited use of y/n

an: i started writing this literally months ago and only finished it recently, super duper proud of it :))) this will be part one of a (probably) three part series. let me know if you want a tag in part 2 !!! i tried to tag all those who liked this post so thanks for the support - love you all <33

summary: the conveyer belt of mech-heads you dealt with on a weekly basis were nothing more than a side-show annoyance. but god, the auto-shop had never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

part two

Before the auto-shop, on the corner at the intersection of Lovett and Harwood, was a Chinese restaurant.

The Red Lotus.

On Friday nights as a kid, daddy would drive into town and return with a steaming white bag of fried rice and dumplings. Sometimes, when they had in stock, he'd bring a single mooncake to share between him and you.

It was family run, the Zhou's. Three sons and a daughter.

They closed down right after you graduated, tired of the middle of nowhere-ness. The tractors rumbling loudly through town at six o' clock every morning, the shaky cell reception and the incessant knock of evening frogs on the porch.

Tired of butt-fuck nowhere Tennessee.

It stood empty for two years. Sometimes you'd pass it in your truck and remember them, other times you wouldn't even look.

But now, now it stood as a brand new garage. Or at least the tiny town's excuse for "brand new".

Daddy's friend, Mister Carl Abernathy, owned it.

He was a short stocky man, bald all over and you'd never seen him without a cold bottle of cider and the remnants of it’s sweat staining down his creased button-up.

You knew that only because he was always around: lots of things on the farm needed fixing up.

Weeds crept up into the tires of the tractors, age beat at the truck you used to move in and out of town - crates of peaches bouncing jovially over each bump.

Every time they needed a looking at, Carl would send over the bonehead of the week.

The same white pull-up would brake loudly outside the farmhouse door, always somewhere around nine: just in time to disturb your breakfast, and one of his latest recruits would hop out.

They’d lean haughtily against the large wheel of the dying blue tractor.

"Well, looks like we've got a problem on our hands here, hey little missy?"

They weren’t even worth the effort it took to roll your eyes. No shit.

The farm didn't make nearly enough from the weekend markets in bigger nearby towns, or the pennies of the townsfolk to afford new vehicles. So, you stuck it out with each caveman Carl sent your way.

And you were fine with it.

Mostly fine with it.

Sure, some of them were vulgar: they'd whistle at you or comment on your ass when you passed them working. Others could only succeed at making the vehicle worse than when they'd started, but it was your job to sort them out.

Could you have gone off with your high school friends to college? Sure.

Maybe.

But that’d leave Daddy all alone in that big house. You pushed away the thought when it surfaced to bug you.

Your mother had disappeared long before you knew her, exhausted - like the Zhou's - of being nowhere.

Maybe of being no one. Perhaps of being a no one peach farmer with the grump that was your daddy and a toddler zooming at her feet.

Either way, it didn't matter.

She had left and you remained to do the job, and that job included dealing with Carl’s mechanics.

At least it hadn't mattered, not until some morning in late summer.

The sun watched from high over the green farmhouse. It glared down, peeking over the edge of the porch.

You were fixed on the bird pecking at the already deteriorating grey window pane above the sink, overlooking the rows of colourful fields.

"You're messing, Cherry."

Cherry. Daddy had been calling you that since as far back as you could remember him talking.

You glanced at him across the table, where the spread of bread, eggs and jam had been lain, before you noticed where a long stripe of strawberry jam had run down the front of your black tank top.

"Listen now, you're gonna be fine with the tractor today?"

His voice was stern - probably too stern for such an hour of the morning, but you hardly noticed - swiping at the jam with your finger and nodding.

"No problems, alright?"

Daddy usually worked the tractor, but he was going to some meeting two towns over. He hadn't mentioned what about, but you were sure it had to do with the crippling financial state of the farm.

You nodded.

It's how you found yourself alone out in the heat of the midday sun.

The tractor rumbled beneath you, joggling over every rock and mole hill.

Every couple meters, you'd stop: climb off and pick at the peaches before tossing them into the crate. When enough crates were full, you'd load them onto the truck and move again.

You'd been at it, burning over your arms and shoulders, for what couldn’t have been more than a few hours when the tractor gave a sickening jolt.

Gripping the wheel and watching in horror over the edge of your sunglasses, your eyes followed the thick cloud of grey smoke where it began seeping out at the edges of the hood and disappearing up into the sky.

"No, no, no ..." you drew up the handbrake and leapt out the side onto the soil. The blue metal scalded the tips of your fingers where you threw the bonnet open before swallowing down mouthfuls of hot smoke.

It took five minutes of coughing against the side of the vehicle, another five kicking at the left wheel and at least another ten swearing at the sky before you dug your phone out from between the seats and dialled the number to Carl's auto shop.

It rung three times before his gruff voice carried across the line, "Abernathy Auto Repairs speakin', hello?"

"Good morning Mr Abernathy," your fingers pressed into the sides of your temple, working fruitlessly against the headache forming there. "I'm calling from the farm down Jasmine road—"

"Oh hey there, darlin'. What can I do you for?"

A squirrel rustled somewhere down the row of bushes. "Well, I'm out in the field now and the tractor has ... uh, given up on me. The ‘63. Need one of your men to come give it a start, or a look-over or—"

"Not a problem, not a problem at all. Are you far out? Whereabouts are you?"

You cupped a hand to shield up over your eyes, glancing back from whence you'd came. The house was but a speck of green in the distance.

"About two or three miles north west of the house?"

You could practically hear him nodding, a steady gulp audible against the line.

"Don't you worry about a thing, little darlin', I'll have one of my boys out there within the hour. Just hang tight."

"Alright, thank you kindly sir—"

But the line was already dead.

You glared at the phone.

Huffing loudly, you pulled yourself back up onto the truck - allowing the soft shade to gently graze over your face as you sunk back into the seat.

The warm wind rippled over the tops of the rows of greenery and you watched quietly, the irritation simmering to a low boil in your chest.

There was a quiet tranquility in being so far out from the house, shielded from the scorch.

Your boot tapped rhythmically against the console. Warm breeze brushed over your face again and you sighed, tilting your hat lower over your forehead. The lull of the quiet field allowed your lashes to fan closed over your cheeks. Before you’d taken note of the bird coming to perch on the roof, you were already asleep.

It was the loud rumble of an engine and the throbbing pain in your neck that brought you back to the world of the conscious.

You woke with a jump. Heart thumping against your ribcage in instant confusion. Your hat flew off your head and over the edge of your seat from where it had been blocking the light over your eyes.

Bringing a hand to your neck you whined loudly, the angle you’d been perched at doing nothing for the long term preservation of your muscles there.

You turned anyways, noticing the white pick-up quickly nearing from the direction of the house.

Frowning, you glanced down at time against the console. Three fifty-eight.

"Shit!"

You stuck your head out from under the shade of the tractor top to notice how low the sun has sunk in the sky. It was almost reaching the head of the hill in the distance.

The mechanic shouldn't have taken longer than an hour to find you, and subsequently, wake you. You quickly diffused yourself of blame.

Daddy was going to kill you.

Clambering off the side of the tractor, your hands found your hips before the car pulled to a wailing halt barely a few centimetres off from your knees.

Dust swept up around the truck, obscuring the view of the man that stepped out of it.

"Woah. Almost hit you there, doll."

Warm wind cleared the air and the figure of a young man stood in your field.

The words sitting on your tongue begging to be spat out were sucked straight back down your throat.

For a moment you forgot what you had planned to say at all.

The man's eyebrow cocked at you under strands of dark, curly hair falling carelessly from the skew bun atop his head.

Behind you, a crow cried in the distance. Your senses quickly returned to you.

Your fists tightened at your sides. "Where on god's green earth have you been?"

He looked taken aback.

"Well, I had some trouble finding the house," he smiled sheepishly, motioning to the farmhouse over his shoulder, "and then I had to phone Carl cause he didn't really tell me where—"

"So you're new then? Carl sent a greenie to come fix my tractor?"

Anyone who'd spent more than three days in town knew the farm down Jasmine road. Knew your farm.

A heavily ringed hand came up to his jaw, rubbing there and eyeing you in a way that made the hair on your arms stands straight up.

It was painfully unfair how handsome he was.

"New to town. Not new to fixing tractors." His voice was smooth, the curl of a grin peaking at you from the edge of his mouth.

Sucking in a deep breath - a feeble attempt at composure - you nodded once.

"Well, I've got a tractor and it's broken. And you're two hours late, so if you don't mind, I've got a job to do."

You turned violently on your heel, sure if you stood under his gaze any longer that you'd melt right against the soil.

The sound of the peaches tumbling out the crate onto the tractor split the air between you and him, and soon you were marching away from his figure - crate in hand - in pursuit of fruit further down the lane.

"I'm Eddie!"

You waved vaguely over your shoulder, electing not to bless him with an answer.

Carl was going to hear an earful from your father, you were sure of it. You plucked angrily at the fruits off the bush, tossing them a little too violently in with the rest.

It was quiet from the distance behind you, but you refused to turn to look.

Sure, you shouldn't be so surprised that one of Carl's idiots was nearly two hours late and got lost in a town that really only has two roads, but god, he'd never sent one with such round, wet brown eyes before.

The walk was long, each stop causing the crate to become heavier, and you worked hard to put the image of the mechanic’s black shirt - that he'd obviously cut the sleeves off himself - and how it clung to his chest with sweat out of your mind.

You didn't stop until a voice called from behind. At first it was soft, but it grew louder within a minute: as was the sound of footfalls.

"Hey, miss!"

He was jogging towards you, pieces of hair falling recklessly out from the grips of his hair tie to frame his red face.

Eddie only stopped when barely a few feet separated you.

"All done." He grinned, huffing around his smile. "She just overheated a bit, needed some water and a a couple valves disconnected."

You couldn't tell whether it was harder to hold his gaze or work to keep yours off of his chest.

"Right. Good." You nodded, leaning to lift the crate at your feet. "Then I'll be getting back to it."

It was heavy, almost too heavy if you hadn't lifted boxes like those from sunrise to sunset for the last eighteen or so years.

But the mechanic was clearly unconvinced, he swooped in closer to you. "Let me get that—"

"I'm fine—"

"No really." By now he was way too close, close enough that you could smell the undertones of a shower gel or maybe a cologne.

His voice softened, "Please. To make up for my tardiness."

It was hard to tell whether it was the sun making you so dizzy or his proximity, but either way, it forced you to nod slowly. "Fine."

Eddie took the crate from your hands, you ignored the rush of heat to your stomach as he grunted against the weight.

"Strong thing aren't you, doll?"

You didn't respond, eyes fixed on the giant blue tractor a couple meters from where you stood.

Silence rung, only the footfalls filling the space. You'd almost made it all the way back to the tractor without conversation before the mechanic decided to open his mouth again.

"I don't think I caught your name earlier."

You met his eyes, regretting it almost immediately when your knees threatened to buckle, "That's because I never gave it."

Stepping just close enough to take the crate from his grip, but avoid the drift of his cologne again, your hands brushed closely against his.

They were cool against your sweaty ones.

He was grinning again.

You stepped back, balancing the peaches against your hip before tilting it over the box attached to the end of the tractor allowing the round pink pieces to clatter down into its depths.

"Right. Well, what's your name then doll?"

But you were already clambering back up the side of the tractor into the worn leather seat.

"Wouldn't you like to know, pretty boy."

He was leaning against the side of the truck now, you avoided looking down at him, something told you that you'd find those eyes blinking right up into your soul again if you did.

"So you think I'm pretty?"

Hot red blush chased up the sides of your neck over your ears, you prayed it wasn't discernible under the pink sunburn.

The keys jingled loudly as you slid them into the ignition and turned them violently. The vehicle jerked to life.

"I think your job is done. Good afternoon sir."

Before he could say another word, your foot had sunk down on the accelerator and the tractor was rumbling back down between the bushes again.

In your peripheral vision you watched how the mechanic stumbled back against his pick-up, narrowly avoiding catching his foot under one of the hundred pound tires, and the sound of an echoing chuckle fading as you plodded away.

The drive back to the auto-garage was quick. At least quicker than the drive Eddie had taken to find the farm.

His hands tightened around the wheel, twisting over the leather as he pulled to a park in the open spot across the street.

A ring of brown soil stared up at him from where he'd pulled at the handbrake with dusty paws.

"Shit ..." he wiped his hands down the jean over his thighs.

Eddie was used to the oil and the reek of grease, as if that wasn't already enough, but not the itch of farm soil up his nostrils and behind his ears.

He twisted the metal ring around his finger, a small grin playing at his lips.

But the soil wasn't so bad, he reckons he'd swim through a pool of it it to get another chance to watch the hot-tempered farm girl's hips sway when she marched away from him, just as you'd done earlier that afternoon.

The smile didn't leave his face as he climbed out the car, locked it and crossed the street whistling.

Eddie was almost completely used to the whir of the drills echoing off the walls and barely registered the creak of the lever that was raising a car near the back of the shop.

Carl was leaning over the reception desk clinking the bottom of his cider bottle against the wood and puffing on the end of a cigarette.

He waved vaguely down at the open ledger when he noticed Eddie nearing, "See here, extra two hundred dollars on a cheap fucking knock off for that AMC Eagle. You believe that, Munson?"

"Hardly, boss."

Eddie was halfway back to where he'd abandoned the engine on a red convertible before weaving across town to find a farm when the boss' voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Hold it, hold it. Where’ve you been? Didn't I send you outta here three hours ago?" He swivelled on the bar stool against the counter to face him.

The greasy palm that had been picking it's way under car hoods all afternoon reached up to rub against the side of his neck. "I couldn't find that fucking farm, did three circles ‘round the post office before I saw the sign for Jasmine road."

Carl surveyed him with a crooked brow. "They didn't teach you to read maps down in Indiana, boy?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He was about to turn back on his way, when the picture of your face glimmered at him behind his eyes, "Listen boss, the girl there. The daughter you said, what's her name?"

By then, Carl had already turned back down to the accounts. "What's it to ya?"

Silence rung long enough that Carl peeked back up at Eddie over the rim of his glasses.

Eddie shrugged bashfully. "Pretty thing."

Carl threw his head back, laughing loudly - Eddie always thought his laugh sounded like a dog barking.

"I've seen that look." He shook his head, lifting to perch his glasses on his shining bald head. "Too many of you boys come back from that farm starry-eyed. No hope with that princess, she don't like you mech-heads. Nope, not one bit."

"Ah, come on, don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Carl let off another crumbly chuckle, "Bit your head off, didn't she?"

"Sure did." He beamed like the cat that caught the canary, "Love it when a lady talks to me sweet."

A sweaty hand shrugged him off.

"Get back to work, Munson."

But Eddie wavered. "Just a name, boss."

Carl stared at him for a couple moments, clearly bored. It took a long slug of the yellow cider and a hard sigh before he spoke again: "Y/n."

The grin crept back up his cheeks. He tested the name on his tongue, finding it to taste as sweet as he knew it would.

"Appreciate it."

"Get back to that convertible before I fire you."

Eddie the mechanic had been firmly put out of your mind following the ruckus out in the field.

Sure, his puppy dog face had returned to you later that night as you lay in bed, but that hardly counted.

You'd forgone mentioning his tardiness to Daddy, electing to take the mild scolding instead.

By the time the end of the week had arrived, you'd just about completely forgotten the floppy haired man that had once graced the farm.

That was until Daddy rose the topic of the auto-body shop again.

He handed you the wet plate, you took it carefully - starting to wipe it down. The water sloshed beneath his hands, scrubbing hard at the soapy pan.

Bullseye watched up at you from where she was curled up on the kitchen chair, purring loudly. Outside the sky was turning deep lilac and the crickets were clicking loudly.

"Tomorrow on your way back from Madeline's, I want you to stop by Carl's."

Madeline's was the local - and only - grocer. You dropped five cases there every Tuesday.

Your hand stilled against the plate, "For?"

"I want you to ask him to spare a man, a good one. Just a couple afternoons a week to do some work."

Your father handed the next plate over carefully.

Confusion tugged at your brow, "Work? What work?"

"You're too curious for your own good, y'know that?"

Bumping your shoulder against his, the pot lid almost slipping from his wet fingers, you laughed. "Don't be difficult, what for?"

The old man sighed.

Some nights, with the evening hue seeping in through the window against his face like it was just then, you were reminded of how old he really was.

"I want to fix up the Cobra."

In the barn around the back of the house, sitting untouched and unmoved for almost twenty years, lived a 1965 AC Cobra.

The steel lid slipped from your hands, clattering against the floor. Your father jumped.

"You're fixing the Cobra!" You grabbed him by the arm, eyes wide in delight. "Is it for me?"

He offered a half-hearted stern look at you, leaning to pick up the lid before straightening out.

"Don't get too excited, she's a real piece of work and we don't know if she can even still be revived."

You tugged at the edge of his shirt, "But ... it's for me, right?"

"Well, your twenty-first is coming up and I thought you're old enough now—"

Just about strangling him, your arms flew up over his neck.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—!"

He sighed over your shoulder, patting your back with a wet hand. “Alright, alright. Just speak to Carl.”

Your drop-off at Madeline's had never gone faster.

Town was busy, as busy as it got on a Tuesday morning, and Abernathy's was no different.

You pulled into a spot down the line of other nearly identical pick-ups to your own in front of the shop.

At the front desk, where you were sure he'd grown roots into the stool behind it, sat Carl Abernathy.

When he looked up from a piece he'd been tinkering with, surprise twisted at his features.

"G'morning darlin'," he set the piece down, puffing around a lit cigarette, "What can I do you for on this fine morning?"

"Good morning sir," you set your hat on the counter, leaning beside it. "My daddy sent me, he's asking if you could spare a man for some work 'round by ours. Couple nights a week."

The little man's eyes screwed at you.

"What, may I ask, will he be expected to do?"

By then you couldn't stifle the grin any longer.

"He's gonna be fixing the Cobra."

The response seemed to delight the man as much as it did yourself, because he laughed loudly and slammed a hand down against the wooden desk.

"Your old man finally found some sense, hey?" He jeered, "I'm mighty pleased to here that, little miss, I really am."

You smiled, "It's my birthday gift. Twenty-first coming up."

"Twenty-one, hey? Well, I've got just the boy. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it."

Carl leaned dangerously back on the stool, you fleetingly wondered how he didn't topple over, before yelling over his shoulder into the depths of the shop.

"Munson! Get your up-to-no-good-ass over here!"

Not to say that you'd completely forgotten him, but you were still more than a little taken aback when the tall framed mechanic from a few days before emerged from under the hood of a pick-up.

"Boss—?" His eyes found you. They lit up like main street over Christmas. "Oh, what a pleasant surprise. Morning, doll."

Grease covered every inch of his arms up to his elbows which held the scrunched up ends to the black long sleeve he was wearing. He was dirtier than last you saw him and it made your stomach swoop dangerously.

"Him?" It slipped out before you had time to catch it.

But Carl didn't comment on your rudeness, instead he slapped a heavy hand over Eddie's shoulder and shook it.

"For sixty's models, this is your boy for the Cobra." The older man beamed at him, like he was telling you his son was a heart surgeon. "Hands like a magician I tell you."

The comment sent a icy chill down the back of your spine, it wasn't helped when the mechanic snapped a wink at you from under his boss' hand.

"R-Right, well, you can come by as soon as you want to start working. A couple hours a day, my daddy will pay you."

With his hair clipped back, you could make a clearer assessment of his face as he nodded to you. He had thick lips and a strong-set nose.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, doll."

The cheekiness in his grin was plucking at a nerve behind your eyebrow. "Think you'll be able to find your way this time?"

"I think I'll be fine." His hands sunk into the depths of his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Left at the butchery and right down the road to my heart."

You scoffed, turning back to Carl. "Thanks Mr Abernathy. I'll let my old man know."

Not even sparing Eddie another glance, you grabbed your hat off the counter and turned on your heel back to the car.

He watched your hair sway under the press of the brown hat and where your wide shoulders glistened in the light beneath the straps of your overalls.

Only when the sound of your engine had disappeared down the street, did he turn back to Carl who was digging the end of a screwdriver into a metal plate.

"You're really an old romantic aren't you, boss."

Carl grumbled, waving a dismissive hand at him.

Eddie shook his head, chuckling delightedly, "Psh, "sixty's models"! As if Jacob couldn't get that Cobra running in a couple days."

Pulling another cider noisily out from the cooler he kept at his feet, Carl guffawed. "I sure hope it's gonna take you more than a few days, lover boy, cause that little miss doesn't seem too fond 'a you I can tell you now."

But Eddie wasn't fazed, "Don't worry, she will be."

Sure as the sun rose in the sky, two o' clock rolled around the next afternoon and a noisy white pick-up pulled into park in front of the green farmhouse.

"Cherry! The mech's here!"

You'd grumbled, reluctantly pulling yourself out from where you'd been perched under the cool shade of the back porch repainting worn pots.

Eddie was standing lost in the driveway when you found him.

He was dirty, obviously just from the shop, and you offered something short of a warm welcome, but he seemed unfazed.

"Car's in the barn 'round the back of the house."

"Well good afternoon to you too, miss." You wondered if his smirk had been permanently stitched there.

The toolbox rattled with each step he took after your pacing figure.

As promised, the barn stood nearly as tall as the house in a faded orange hue.

It was dark inside and the door creaked loudly where you'd swung it open.

There she sat in all her glory. The 1965 AC Cobra, in a fitting cherry red.

Eddie whistled lowly over your shoulder behind you.

"A damn shame hiding this beaut up in this dusty barn." He passed you, running his hand over the bonnet that glimmered even in the low light.

We can agree on one thing at least, you thought.

"I've got to go finish up," you motioned over your shoulder, "but, uh, if you need anything I'll be around. Just shout."

You'd already caught the edge of the door, halfway out, when his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"And what is it exactly that I should I shout, doll? Seeing as you still haven't told me your name."

You surmised him, considering only momentarily letting your name spill off your lips.

Hm. Not today.

"Doll works just fine, greenie."

Finishing off the pots was easy, quick. They stood lined up against the bannister drying while you busied yourself in the vegetable patch behind the house: twisting carrots and beetroots out from the dark soil as the sun sunk slowly lower in the sky.

The time had hardly occurred to you when the back door swung open, your father sticking his one foot down the step.

Keys to the pick-up dangled in his hand.

"Cherry, I'm running to Madeline's for some wood glue and another bag of nails. Need anything?"

Swiping an itch on your forehead with the back of your hand, wiping a long black stripe there, you shook your head. "Nothing."

"Right," he nodded and the door was already halfway shut when he tossed it open again. "Oh, and go make that boy a bite to eat. Damn skinny thing's been in that hot barn for hours now."

You sagged your shoulders childishly, voice coming out as a whine. "Must I really?"

"Yes, you must really."

And he was gone.

The fridge was a ghost town, spare for the never-ending supply of fruit and vegetable that lived in the bottom drawer.

Following five minutes of pursing your lips and staring into its depths, you conjured up a lettuce, cucumber tomato and sweet-chilli sandwich. It didn't take long to convince yourself into making another to satiate your own complaining stomach.

You hummed as you worked, pouring cool lemonade into two glasses, packing the food back into the fridge and rinsing off the butter knife.

The tall clock chimed jovially from the hallway when you shuffled out the back, two plates and two glasses in hand.

Your hip nudged open at the barn door and a wave of sweltering heat rushed over your face and between every tendril of hair on your head.

Blinking foggily into the dim sauna that was the barn, you were met with the only slightly browned back of one Eddie Munson.

The man was hunched over, head lost in the depths of the car's stomach and when he straightened out you just about swallowed your tongue.

His long black mane was in a messy ponytail at the base of his neck and his shirt had been abandoned somewhere by the right tire. Sweat was sliding down the side of his face like an open faucet.

"Hey," he smiled when he met your eyes, voice groggy and tired. The sound made the plates wobble under your grip.

"Hi—" you cringed internally, it was the most pleasant greeting you'd offered him so far. Why had it come out so ... awkward?

You motioned down to the plates, as if his eyes hadn't already found them. "I made you a sandwich ... didn't know if you were hungry or—"

The wrench flew from his grip down into the box where he tossed it and Eddie sighed. "Starving."

You handed him the plate, watching how his blackened fingers stained the edge of the plate and the rim of the glass.

He sat carefully down against an empty crate that had been abandoned by the wall, resting the glass by his feet and wiping his hands down the length of his thighs.

"Hot as hell in here." The mechanic mumbled before diving into the sandwich.

Letting his head fall back against his shoulders, he moaned loudly.

"This is fucking delicious." He commented around the mouthful.

You worked hard to swat away the blush reaching at your cheeks by nodding quickly. That sound would probably ring in your head all night.

"I should go—"

"You're not gonna eat here? I don't mind ..." Eddie eyed the sandwich you'd made for yourself in your hand, gaze flickering between the plate and your face.

Your mouth curled around a response, but you were beat to the chase.

"I know you probably mind," he interjected quickly, "but if you w-want company, I mean, you could eat here ..."

Pursing your lips, you surveyed him: long gangly legs spilling in every direction and rings clinking against the glass.

Would it really kill you to sit five minutes with him?

"No need to turn red, greenie." You resigned, kicking over another crate near the grate of the car before leaning down to perch against it. "I don't mind."

It was quiet for the first couple minutes. You focused on your sandwich, feeling his gaze flicker up to you every few minutes.

He'd practically inhaled the first half of the sandwich, but you noticed he was eating the second half slowly.

"So," he swallowed down a gulp of lemonade. "What were you busy with now before I forced you into sitting here with me?"

You picked at a cucumber that had fallen loose from your sandwich, teasing at the outer skin with your teeth.

"Very important work." Your lip curled at the corners, it seemed he noticed. "Fate of the farm depended on it. Guess now it'll have to crash and burn ..."

"Oh yeah? Enlighten me."

His amused look matched yours.

"Pulling carrots out the patch."

He leaned back, eyes widening theatrically. "Sounds exhilarating."

"You have no idea."

You bit into your sandwich again, finding the space suddenly more comfortable.

"Tell me," he pulled off a piece of tomato hanging dangerously off the edge of the sandwich, "How does a car this beautiful find it's way onto a farm in the middle of nowhere?"

Your chest pinched at the question.

"Y'know, just ..." you motioned vaguely towards the roof, "Aliens."

He caught how your gaze flickered from his to a loose bolt near your foot.

Okay, sensitive spot.

The bread was soft between Eddie's fingers, he set it down.

"I thought I saw some funny lights in the sky last night."

It was becoming almost impossible to keep his eyes off you, even for a couple seconds at a time.

You only nodded at his response, refusing to lift your gaze from the floor.

It was making his stomach churn, desperate for a couple more minutes to enjoy the view of your face.

There was a smudge of brown soil against your forehead where your hair fell over it, making his hands twitch in his lap, itching to reach out and swipe at your sun-kissed face.

"Just you and the old man then?" He pressed, reaching for his glass again.

You shrugged, "Couple creatures of the earth too. And the peaches, of course. Always the peaches."

"Peaches are good."

"No boyfriend then?"

It slipped out of him before he had chance to catch it. He'd been dying to know since the second your figure had appeared to him beyond the cloud of dust out in the field.

You took your sweet time, examining him over the rim of your glass. He couldn't tell whether you intended to respond to him at all.

The weight of your gaze was making his head spin.

"'A course I have a boyfriend. Nights on a big farm like this get lonely without someone to warm the other side of the bed. Y'know?"

Eddie's heart sunk into his stomach.

The sandwich had suddenly lost it's appeal. He set the last couple bites by his feet. He nodded slowly.

"... Can imagine."

Blood was rushing past his ears loudly, he could feel it pooling around his cheeks: warming his face with embarrassment.

"He's actually around if you want to meet him?"

"Uh—" Eddie couldn't even formulate a half of a response before your head was thrown back over your right shoulder:

"Cowboy! Baby!"

Cowboy?

There was a thick confused silence where he wasn't entirely sure who or even if anyone would march through the door - he mostly hoped that you'd been lying and nobody was coming at all.

"Baby!" You called again.

Then he heard it.

The fall of footsteps. Someone was running towards the barn and getting quickly closer.

From out of the sunshine, bounding through the door, Eddie made out the shape of the largest dog he'd ever seen.

Four long gangly legs carried him across the small space, tongue swinging over the side of his jaw: he'd appeared so quickly that Eddie didn't have a moment to prepare before the hound leapt excitedly into his lap.

"Hey, boy—!"

He toppled back over the crate and the dog licked hungrily at the sauce around the edges of his mouth, he nudged Eddie's face with his giant snout before spotting the last few bites of the sandwich left abandoned and scooped it up in one long lick.

The distraction of the food offered Eddie the opportunity to sit straight up again, he could feel the hay tangling into the depths of his hair - but the thought dissolved when he picked up the sound you were making.

You were laughing.

The sound was making him drunk, he was sure of it.

It was made worse when he looked at you: head tilted to the side, leaning at the wall and calling the dog breathlessly between giggles.

Eddie could feel the tiny birds flying in circles over his head and his pupils turning to hearts.

"Cowboy, leave the man's food!"

But the sandwich was long gone and the dog had apparently lost interest in sniffing at the empty plate, returning to licking wet stripes up the side of Eddie's face.

"Sorry, he's just a pup." Your face had softened, giggles bubbling down to a sigh. "Hasn't grown into all his manners yet."

"A pup?" Eddie mumbled in disbelief, catching Cowboy behind his ears with a tickle.

Like a magic button, the dog collapsed into a puddle by his feet: panting loudly.

"Kinda looks like your boyfriend likes me more than you."

You leaned against your knees, head shaking. "I'm feeling a little betrayed that he hasn't even looked in my direction yet."

"It's my natural charm, what can I say. Attracts animals of all species."

Scoffing loudly, you shook your head. "Keep the traitor then. We'll see how long he lasts without me feeding him spoonfuls of peanut butter under the table."

Eddie briefly wondered how big of table existed in the kitchen beyond the window of the farmhouse to fit the monstrous animal at his feet.

"Aw, then who would keep you warm on cold farm nights ..." he flashed a toothy smile, "Winter is just around the corner after all."

"Well, in that case," you tilted your head back in false concentration, lifting your hand to count on your fingers: "There's Bullseye, the cat ... Rodeo, the other cat. A couple stray dogs sometimes walk in off the fields, maybe we could adopt a goat?"

Cowboy was watching you with his head in Eddie's lap, Eddie tilted his head innocently to the side. "No one else?"

"Nope ... none that come to mind."

You were smiling at him now, mischief curled into the edges of your mouth.

It was turning his insides to a molten pool of goo.

"Is that a smile I see?" He tried his luck. "Did I make you smile? Is a comet about to hit the state of Tennessee?"

You turned your head quickly, working to wipe the expression off your face, but not entirely succeeding.

Instead you stood up.

"Whatever, greenie." Leaning down to pick up your plate, Eddie was briefly exposed to the view down the front of your dungarees. He blushed again. "Don't you have work to do?"

Crossing the space quickly, you grabbed his plate from beneath one of Cowboy's pot-sized paws before clicking your tongue at the dog.

He clambered back onto his feet like a new-born deer, clearly still not entirely sure what to do with so much leg.

"I'll see you later then, doll?"

But you didn't turn back, disappearing into the light of the sun with Cowboy trotting at your heels.

"Maybe in your dreams tonight, pretty boy."

tags:

@jokersgrf @anicosa-ironlung @sleepy-bunnie @pricelessemotion @sweetgladiatorfesival @eggo-segual @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @introvertedmouse @ctrlaltdel3te @multifandom-l0ver @inarinine @sillysteveharharhar @buckystwilight @hey-lucille

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

Text

in which steve takes el to see her first meteor shower

Steve is pulling up at the Hopper-Byers house around ten at night, hoping that El remembers their little date. Hoping even more that the Chief will let them do this.

The door opens before Steve so much as closes his car, and a very excited teenager already runs toward him, laughing when she crashes into his chest, the impact of which makes Steve stumble back against the car.

"Good evening to you, too, you little menace." He ruffles her hair, excited to see how long it's gotten again, a mop of wild curls.

"Hi," she says into his chest, hands hooked behind his back, and they just stand there and cuddle for a minute. The night air is refreshing after the day's boiling heat, and it's good to bask for a moment.

After a moment, Hopper appears in the front door, framed by the low light coming from inside, but even in the dark, Steve thinks he can make out the expression on the Chief's face. How he tries for stern, but can't quite manage it. Not when they've all been through so much.

"Hey, kid," he says, approaching the siblings where they are still hugging. "You looking to kidnap my daughter?"

"Yes, actually," Steve grins. "Will you let me?"

Hop gives a long-suffering sigh and places a hand on Steve's shoulder. "If there's one thing I've learned, Steve, it's that I can't stop you from anything you set your mind to. So I don't think I've much of a choice in the matter, let alone a say."

El chuckles and leans up to press a little kiss to Hopper's cheek. "Thanks, dad."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles, and Steve snickers. "Get out of my sight, you two, but I expect to see you both at breakfast tomorrow."

"Eleven o'clock," Steve says in lieu of a groan, because he loves Sunday breakfast at the Hopper-Byers' place.

"Eight."

"Ten-thirty."

"Nine-thirty, last offer. Take it or leave it, boy."

"Deal," Steve grins, then turns back to El. "You ready to go?"

She nods. "Ready." Then turns back to Hop and gives him another kiss to the cheek and a quick hug. "Goodnight, dad."

"Have a good night, kid." As El bounds around the car to jump in on the other side, Hop turns to Steve, who's already moving in for a hug, too. "You, too. Be careful."

"Always. It's just stars, though."

"I know. Still."

"I know."

It's good. The hug. The worry. The way they care and talk and accept. Makes Steve think that it was all worth it, sometimes. Moments like this, under the stars. He gets to have this.

The Chief lets him to eventually and then they're speeding off. Steve is taking El to the weather top in the middle of the night, snacks and drinks and blankets in the back of his car. Because El has never seen a shooting star, let alone a meteor shower. And Steve is dead set to change that.

The other kids are gonna be so jealous when they hear that Steve and El went to watch the stars fall from the sky (well, not really, but that's what it looks like, and that's what Eddie weaves into his stories sometimes), but Steve doesn't care. This is for El. This is for the little girl, injured and weak and frightened, and for the boy who taught her the meaning of magic.

This is only for them.

They don't trek up to the real weather top, since it would be too exhausting of a trip, and too dangerous in the dark. Instead, Steve parks on the open field of a smaller hill that offers them a perfect, uninterrupted view of the sky. No trees, no houses, no excess light to bother them.

"Yeah, this is perfect," he mutters as he kills the engine.

They spread out the blanket together right beside the car, grabbing snacks and drinks and more blankets in case they get cold at some point. El immediately lies down and reaches for some cookies while Steve goes back to the car, putting on one of their favourite tapes. Kim Wilde's 1982 album. One of El's first ever favourite albums.

It makes Steve smile, especially when he hears the excited squeal when the first notes carry through the air.

He eventually settles beside her on the blanket, the music just loud enough to create a nice atmosphere in the otherwise quiet night, and Steve already feels like there's something incredibly special about this moment.

And then El gasps. "Steve," she whispers, pointing up at the sky above them.

He can see the last remnants of the shooting star that lit up the the night and, most importantly, El's face. She's gripping him now, frantically scanning the sky for more, and Steve chuckles, moving his arm in her grip enough to take her hand if that's what she wants.

"What was that?" she asks.

"A shooting star," Steve explains. "They're not real stars, though. There are rocks floating around in space, and sometimes the Earth will move through, like, a chain of them, and then they burn up when they enter the Earth's atmosphere. That's what makes them look like that. Pretty, right?"

She's nodding, refusing to take her eyes away from the sky, and Steve settles back, too, getting more comfortable on the blanket. It's not long before the next shooting star appears - a larger one this time, cutting through half the night sky before it disappears.

"Wow," El whispers beside him, and Steve wants to burst at that genuine wonderment in her eyes, her voice, the way she's squeezing his hand.

"You get to make a wish when you see a shooting star."

"A wish?"

"Yeah. But don't tell me. It has to be a secret wish, and then maybe it'll come true."

At that, El nods solemnly, always so damn serious, like wishing on a shooting star deserves to be treated with the utmost care and calculation. Maybe it does. Steve won't judge. It's not like El grew up with many serious opportunities to make a wish, let alone make it freely.

"Can I wish something for you?" she interrupts that particular train of thought, and Steve stops short, looking at her.

"You wanna wish something for me?" She nods. "What would you wish for me?"

She meets his eyes with a little frown. "It's secret."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"It's okay."

Oh, he wants to burst again. But he only squeezes her hand. "Yeah, I think you can wish something for me."

And then she only smiles, and Steve wants to know, wants to ask, wants to be seen just a bit less, wants to exist only between the stars and the wishes that El could have for him.

He closes his eyes, focusing only on her gasps, her hums, her chuckles, her little wows, and he smiles.

Later, he tells her about the constellations he remembers. Some he made up himself. Some that Eddie made up. His heart jumps a little at the thought of the metalhead he never thought to fall in love with. Eddie who loves the stars, who knows so many seafarer's tales about them, mythology that Steve doesn't know if it's genuine or if Eddie made it up. If he's writing his own mythology. Steve wouldn't put it past him.

It's long after midnight and silence has settled between them, both of them somewhere deep inside their own heads, yet anchored in the moment, together. It's serene.

Maybe it's that serenity that gets Steve talking.

"Hey El?"

"Yes?"

"I kissed Eddie."

She gasps again, but not because of a shooting star this time, and turns to face him. "You kissed Eddie?"

"Yeah." The smile is on his lips before he can even try to fight it, and he finds that he doesn't want to. "I was really scared to do it. But it was good. I think..."

"Yeah?"

Steve exhales slowly, seeking solace in El's hand, who immediately squeezes his again, her other hand coming up to run through his hair. A calming motion that never fails to ground him. El is the only one allowed to do this, the only one who does it right. "I think I might have fallen in love with Eddie."

She nods, smile on her face, and then falls forward, head landing on his chest. They don't really have a sense of personal space around each other and Steve loves it, combing through her hair now -- a motion that is just as calming.

"That was my wish."

"Come again?"

"My wish. My shooting star wish," she says, shuffling so she can look at him without moving from her spot. "I wished that you'd smile like you did when you told me you kissed Eddie. And if he makes you smile, he can stay."

"You'll allow it, huh?" Steve chuckles, but El is dead serious when she nods.

"I'll allow it."

And his chuckle turns a bit more genuine now, his lungs filling with the perfection of this moment. He has people that are fiercely protective of him. He has a pretty boy willing to kiss him that he doesn't have to share with those people yet. He has the stars above, willing to grant wishes despite the horrors they know he's seen. And he has El.

In a way, it's really all he could wish for.

El stays the night at Steve's, though he has to carry her inside from his car and wake her like he used to. They share a bed like they used to, and in the morning she'll wear his clothes like she used to.

It's good. It's perfect. And when they arrive for breakfast at ten, Hopper doesn't even call them out on being late when he sees the happy, content smiles on their faces. He just very discreetly kicks Steve's butt, but he had that coming.

#steve & eleven #steve & hopper #steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #time travel au #as in i picture this to happen in this verse but like wayyyy after the story will have been concluded i just like my steve&el dynamic #kim wilde is so underrepresented in this fandom and it's a real tragedy :(#idk what this is let's all remember i still have covid and thought coherence is not really a thing that happens to me lately #dio words

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spockfallsinlove · 11 months

Note

Little cute kinda prompt: Kirk loves coming up with the silliest sappiest nicknames to get his Vulcan to blush hehe 💜💜💜

"Babe," Jim says to the ceiling.

"No."

"Darling?" At the affronted silence, Jim tries: "Baby doll?"

Spock huffs. "I believe you are intentionally making them worse."

Jim rolls over to his stomach, flopping an arm over Spock's bare chest with a groan. "You're the one intentionally vetoing every endearment I come up with."

"Then I suggest," Spock kisses the tip of Jim's nose, so close to his face, "that you find a suitable one."

"A suitable one?"

"One that encompasses our relationship."

Jim thinks on it for a moment. Grins in the wake of a complicated puzzle, one that he can turn over in his hand like a Rubik's cube. "Challenge accepted, then."

The first attempt: on the bridge. "Thank you, gorgeous," Jim says to Spock as he hands him a PADD, smiling beatifically. Spock's glare makes his smile drop.

Second: as Spock comes out of the shower, Jim throwing a towel on his wet hair and murmuring, "Hello, sexy," to which he receives a "Absolutely not."

Third: in the rec room, as him and Spock play chess while Bones reads in the corner. "Checkmate, sugar," he purrs, to which Spock simply stands and walks away from.

"The hell are you doing?" Bones asks over his book.

Jim sighs as he sets the pieces back on the board. "Trying to find something more romantic to say in bed rather than 'Spock'."

Bones stares into the middle distance for a moment. Looks back down at his book. "I don't know why I ask."

"He's shooting down every one," Jim protests. "I don't know what to do."

"You stop dicking around and find one he actually likes," Bones snaps. "And leave me out of it while you do."

Jim hums. Considers. "What do you think about—"

Raising a hand, not looking up from his book, Bones says, "Leave. Me. Out of it."

Jim tries a few more over the next few days ("Sweetheart", which was close; "Honey", which was worse; "Bae," to try what the kids are into). None worked. Each one made Jim more and more convinced that Spock may just break up with him to get Jim to stop trying.

Shore leave came, and Jim rents them a modest little cabin in the middle of a field of wildflowers and wood to apologize. A lake spreads far and clear a few miles from the cabin, with a little overgrown path leading to it. Jim finds Spock there one morning, taking notes in his PADD as he observes a few errant wildflowers growing in the crack of a boulder.

"This planet is fascinating," he says as Jim approaches, knowing it's Jim by his footsteps alone. "The flora grows where you wouldn't think it to be. The soil is fertile, and yet these wildflowers chose the sandy cracks of this boulder. Almost in spite of the conditions."

Jim grins, sticking his hands in his pockets, observing Spock's crouched position, the curve of his shoulders. He knows them like old friends by now; could draw his lines by memory.

"Beloved," he says, too soft for human ears to hear, but perfect for a Vulcan's.

Spock turns his head, mouth slightly agape. His cheeks are getting that adorable green tint that Jim loves to be the cause of.

Jim smiles. The sun is warm on his back as he holds out a hand to Spock, helping him up, running a finger down Spock's flushed cheek. "Is this suitable, Mr. Spock?"

Spock's kiss comes fierce and surprising. It takes Jim's breath away as Spock pulls back, his hand folding into Jim's. "Quite acceptable," he breathes.

#spirk #space husbands #BECAUSE BELOVED IN VULCAN ETC ETC #i wrote this so quick but it was made with love!!#now i have to go get my baby up from her nap lol #i loved this prompt anon!! thank you!!!#star trek aos

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arzuera · 1 year

Note

Once Danny was far enough he broke down crying, he knew he shouldn't, he was expecting this. But in the end it still hurts.

Was it so wrong for him to hope for a different outcome? To be fully loved by the parents that he loved all of his life. That loved HIM for all of his life. Only to be cast out and hunted for fate accidentally turning him into the thing that they despised the most? Was it truly such a sin? Did the universe hate him that much?

Lightning cracked the sky as a thunderous roar followed. Rain poured down in sheets, erasing any traces of his frantic flight away from his hometown. Away from the ones who sought to kill him a second time. Away from the people he loved.

Danny allowed himself to fall fully to the ground of this little field. His parents had long since given up trying to chase him down. He had been too fast for the GAV to keep up with through a densely packed forest. Even then, he had kept going. Minutes turned into yards, hours turned into miles. He had fled as far as his body would allow and it had been a lot farther than he thought it would be. Danny had no idea where he was at this point. Not that he cared.

Anguish gripped his core hard as he let out a cry that would have brought anyone nearby to their knees. It wasn’t quite a wail but it was close. He shoved all of his pain and sorrow for the fact that his entire life had been ripped out by the roots and thrown viciously aside. It wasn’t the Nasty Burger accident but this was just about as bad. They weren’t dead but, in the end, he still ended up alone. So he continued to scream. His cries turned into minor wails at times but since he was screaming to the sky nothing was destroyed.

He didn’t stop until his throat bled and the screams turned into nothing more than strangled sobs. White rings flashed around his midsection as the last of his powers gave out. Leaving Danny with nothing other than his human side. The one that still existed, despite what his parents claimed. With no strength left, he lay in the mud unable to move. Vulnerable. Anyone could walk up and just do what they wanted and he wouldn’t even care. What was the point? There wasn’t any reason to try anymore. If only that portal had finished the job-

“You’ll catch your death laying on the ground like that.” A long trenchcoat came into view with a middle-aged man looking down at him from under his umbrella. “What’s a kid like you hanging out in a park so late at night in Gotham?”

Danny didn’t respond. His eyes were unfocused with his vision blurring around the edges. So he was in Gotham. Wonderful. Somehow he had managed to fly several states away in just a few hours. If he could, he would have excitedly called Sam and Tucker about this new record but he couldn’t. Not anymore.

The man sighed heavily when he realized that he wasn’t going to get an answer. So he sidled up and crouched down closer to the teen’s eye level while holding his umbrella out so it protected them both. “Look, kid. I don’t think I need to tell you how dangerous Gotham is at night. Especially to a kid like yourself. Is there somewhere I can take you to… or-” He stopped when the lights in Danny’s eyes dimmed even further than they were. “Mkay, guess not.” The man looked around the immediate area before settling on Danny again. “All right, bud, can you stand? We’ll get you back to my place until we can figure something out.”

Danny laughed bitterly turning into a coughing fit. Blood leaked out from the corner of his mouth making the man look at him with even more concern. “Isn’t it dangerous to go with a stranger this late at night in Gotham?” he rasped out and it only made the coughing worse but Danny didn’t care.

Instead of taking offense like Danny thought he would, the man smirked at the teen as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Well, we can’t be strangers if you know my name right? Name’s James Gordon, friends call me Jim. Now let’s get you out of this cold and your throat looked at. I doubt you want that getting worse.” With great care, Gordon picked Danny up and held him close. Finagling the teen around so that the umbrella wouldn’t fall out of position. Danny was too surprised by the fact that he was suddenly picked up to notice the frown that briefly crossed the man’s face at how light the boy was.

“Wait… what? What are you doing-” Danny weakly struggled against Gordon and failed since his strength was entirely spent.

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything bad. As Commissioner of this lovely city, the only safer hands you would be in is Batman, himself.” Gordon started to head out of the park towards a vehicle parked nearby. Danny gave up trying to resist, opting to just let things happen. “We’re just going to stop by my place and get you looked at. My daughter might not be a doctor but she’s pretty good with a first aid kit.”

“Why do you even care?” Danny couldn’t help but blurt out. A small pang of guilt crept into his heart from how he said it. From what little he knew, Commissioner Gordon was one of the few upright people in Gotham. One of the few people that was trying to keep the city safe… Just like Danny had tried. Only Gordon didn’t have powers at his disposal. It would be weird if the man didn’t care.

“A lone, possible meta, child screaming until his throat bleeds in the dead of night with no one around? I think you are smart enough to figure that one out.” Gordon positioned the teen in the backseat of his car before getting behind the wheel.

Danny tensed at the implication. If he thought he was a meta then he probably saw him de-transform. “…how much did you see?”

“Enough and don’t you worry about it. Big bad Bat isn’t going to kick you out as you think. If you are worried about me judging then please let me remind you, I’m the Commissioner of Gotham. A kid with powers isn’t anything new.” Gordon started up the engine and they were off. A brief silence descended on the two while Danny struggled to stay awake.

“You aren’t… you won’t turn me in?”

“Did you do something wrong?”

“Well, no but-”

“Then even if there is a law saying you shouldn’t exist, I’m not going to turn you in. If that were the case, the only person I would turn you over to is Batman and that’s because he would have a better chance at protecting you from outside forces than I would.” Gordon stated with full confidence as he pulled into the parking spot next to his building. “Here we are. Now while Barbara is checking you over I’ve got a mean vegetable stew my friend gave me. Want me to warm some up to see if it helps your throat any?”

When the man turned around he was greeted to the watery eyes of his newest charge looking at him with the smallest glimmer of hope that he had seen the entire time. Danny kept his gaze on the Commissioner. “Yes, please.”

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom crossover #commissioner gordon #dp x dc

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kalims · 1 year

Text

⊹ㅤasking you to be their valentines | first years

note. happy (late) valentines guys, not proofread

cw. reader implied to be around ace's height (in his part only) sorry I just can't keep the throwing an arm around your shoulder hc off 😢 aghhh but other than that I tried my best to not describe any features. (just imagine you tp to his height for one paragraph then your mc can go back to your height after LOL)

deuce spade ── has everything planned out but most of it doesn't go to plan

deuce sweats.

never in his life has he even considered doing something for someone in valentines day.

correction; he did not make a move to his old crushes so he could very well be compared to that of a kid with no knowledge about the area whatsoever which is embarrassing cause he knows kids younger who had somehow managed to score a lover.

he had always thought nothing of it and wondered about them being too young to even be 'in love' but damn was it humiliating to get humbled now!

the bouquet of flowers seem to be shaking in his grip every second and cater had commented that he should loosen his grip—lest he actually breaks it with his nervous strength alone, and that's the last thing deuce wants. the madol he spent for it was a hefty amount and his mother would strangle him if he broke the only thing he gave to someone in a romantic sense.

there's clear traces of gel in his hair. slicked back, shiny and unmoving. he looks a little weird standing in the middle of the field looking like he was plucked straight out of a private school which is ironic considering his delinquency.

deuce looks back at the hasty morning he spent. waking up, realizing he just slept past the 5 alarms he set up, clumsily finishing his routine before sparing a good moment to stand in his mirror and recite the paragraph he'd been constructing for days.

ace had caught him there once, talking to a mirror like it was someone; you. and snorted so loudly that deuce wondered if anything about it was wrong.

'everything is wrong with it' ace had told him with a dead kind of look, disgusted but amused nonetheless. deuce never took his word for it, his mother had said something similar to his father and look where they were!

he is practically choking the round, white plush in his other hand the more he tightens his jaw out of anticipation. eleanor smiles at him cutely, pink round blush stitched below her eyelids. eleanor, or so he'd named the egg plush. deuce would have went with the signature bear plush but the moment he set his eyes on eleanor he just fell in love.

... with the exception of you of course.

like a puppy brightening up when it sees it's favorite person deuce perks up and does a quick run over.

he'd practically begged trey to bake some of your favorite delicacy and trusted to leave it bravely within the confines of the heartslabyul fridge. of course sticking a sticky note on the container with a threat and an angry face.

if you accept he'll take you right over there for a little date.. (if he's being too presumption that it is that is)

flowers, got it. he misses the wilted petals from his previous vice grip.

"prefect!" he yells from across the field. successfully making you pause in the middle of your traversing towards the gate. your eyes land on deuce spade, looking a little different than you remember—clad in a suit that definitely isn't nrc's, slicked back hair and decked in the 'will you be my prom date' set.

you sweatdrop. but raise your hand in a friendly wave despite it. "hi deuce," you greet sweetly and deuce swoons from his spot. his cheeks erupt to fire as he shyly looks away.

is he okay? you think.

deuce gestures you to come over.

so that's exactly what you did. I can spare a few, you glance at the time and make your way over to the boy certainly acting strange.

once you do his arms reaches up to show a bouquet of.. flowers in it. you stare at it in confusion, then at the several parts that had stared falling off. deuce curses under his breath but keeps a twitching smile. ".. for you," he says.

you smile, unable to stop the laugh that had emerged. "are you sick deucey? what's the occasion?" you tease lightheartedly. nudging him and taking a whiff.

you sneeze.

then blink. oh that's kind of... strong?

deuce grimaces from beside you.

"uh.. nevermind those, you can have this instead," he presents you a plushie in the shape of an egg. once again, perhaps deuce really is sick. you can't help but laugh again at the endearing silliness.

"can I name it?"

"sure..?" he doesn't look too sure. it's name is eleanor he bites it back.

"(plushie name)." I was gonna name it ash but coughs

he forces a smile. "wow. what a nice name,"

deuce suffers in the silence that follows after, and he's a little bothered by the new name of his favorite egg plushie. you will be missed eleanor, he thinks. midst the loss of his friend he supposes the fact that his favorite person ever makes up for it.

you do a quick do over deuce, blinking slowly at the attire that seems foreign. "what's the occasion? you look fancy," that's right. deuce almost forgot the reason why he was standing in the middle of the field in the first place, he doesn't wanna blame the fact that you practically knock the words out of his throat but.. it is you.

and, momentarily he forgot what nerves were in that very moment.

he can feel it come back, to the cold sweat on his neck, the clammy fingers, and the tightening sensation in his throat. deuce unconsciously nips at the skin of his lips as he exhales—then he straightens his top to prolong his question.

"you.. know that valentines is coming up right..?" he asks nervously.

you nod. "yep, about a week from now," you pause. "why?"

he looks down. "do you,,, wanna be my valentine?"

silence.

deuce slumps at the non verbal response of rejection as the shame fully descends on him. how could he do this? now he's ruined the friendship he's glad he'd built with you.

"what's with the gloomy face? I haven't said no, you know,"

a laugh and instantly it shines down a new hope at his darkness, like light upon an enclosed room. sparkling eyes full of suprise stare at you and you resist the urge to pinch his cheeks and simply wrap him up in a burrito blanket. strange, you know but it fits him.

"you mean?" right. he'd burst into tears when he gets home if you're just playing a joke on him.

you smile at him fondly. "there's like, a gala that the school is hosting. let's go as each others valentines date," you laugh and close the space between you two. a hug, deuce recognizes and it's almost the warmest he's ever had.

albeit awkwardly arms wrap around your body and return your love fully.

ㅤ

ace trapolla ── is 'going with the flow' but 'forgets'

"you're totally down bad!"

ace huffs. what could cater know about romance? people would totally run away from him before he could even ask someone out! meanwhile he; the classic boy everyone's after. he claimed, but cater just laughed at refused to believe him.

whatever some people just don't have good taste. ace rolls his eyes and takes out his cellphone. besides, I'm not down bad at all! he groans. the chime of a notification has him looking down, sparing the air from his annoyed glare.

'a user has commented to your post'

at the sight of it his cheeks turn ablaze and he shoves the screen to his chest, obscuring the view of anyone who dares to peer.

(said 'anyone' is just the air, there's no one besides him and a group of students far away)

ace inhales sharply. he's not crazy he was just,, curious. a man's gotta have his secrets! even if he was gonna drown himself if anyone find out.

he spares one more look at the non existent crowd before swiping up. the big letters read: 'how do I ask someone out as valentines' he most definitely didn't run to google, googling things like 'why is the idiot no longer annoying' 'why do I feel like this I like it but I hate it' which would be cringe worthy if cater ever found out.

I am not down bad. he thinks as he clicks on the comment icons then reads the latest one.

monsieur d'amour_ : there is no better way than to speak from your heart! 💖 n'ayez pas peur ~

( n'ayez pas peur — do not be afraid )

this guy has screws loose. speak from his heart? what a bunch of stupid shit.. and he's not afraid! ace is no coward. he stares silently but he can't deny that it was just a tad, bit inspirational. how could he ever do that? his mouth basically runs on auto pilot to protect his pride and his pride certainly doesn't correlate with his feelings.

yes.. he's not scared.

do it pussy. a second conscious voice seems to taunt him, he sighs. sometimes he hates the attitude that his thoughts,, think.

as if the seven really wants to laugh at him for entertainment the object of his affections silhouette keeps getting larger and larger.

you; the prefect of ramshackle. the same person that had him up for a punishment on the first day of school, he can say that you're the reason he was almost expelled but you're also partially the reason why he wasn't. crazy isn't it? his best friend (other), the same person he just had to fall for.

you're coming closer, ace concludes and he squares up his shoulders and presents the most natural grin he can.

ace saunters up to you and throws a casual arm around your shoulders. it's been habit at this point, perhaps ace just does it because you're his friend or maybe he's just finding another reason to keep you close. (he does the same with deuce but there's an almost guaranteed wrestle and ruffling of the head aggressively affectionate right after)

"what's my favorite prefect doing around here?" ace grins. you roll your eyes at his words but mirror his smile. "favorite prefect? are you serious?" you push him with your shoulder lightly but never enough to shove him off and decline the skin to skin contact he gives. technically it is true though. he doesn't like nearly all the dorm leaders, perhaps with the exception of scarabia's but he can't say they're close.

he smirks. "who else?" then the raw confidence he doesn't have a problem excluding dims when he remembers the whole,, valentines thing.

his smile drops for a second before he repairs it back up.

okay ace, go with the flow. speak with your heart. he can't believe he's actually heeding that random idiots advice. "soooo... you must be date-less on valentines, I mean who would want to go with you?" cruel words seem to spout out of his mouth as a habit. it was like that the first time you met but you practically shoved it all back up his ass.

you were used to it so you didn't mind. maybe that's why ace likes you. you aren't as weak hearted, and sensitive like the other people. a little selfish and strange on his part but he always wanted someone who'd joke with him, not minding his rather dark humor.

"no actually. I'm going with someone," you say. all smiley and all and ace feels like barfing his breakfast in the toilet. his smile immediately falls into a deadpan that he could not hide from you. in turn, you smile mischievously at the new revelation. this idiot is so easy to read. you think.

likable, lovable idiot on your part.

ace grimaces and ignores the tight fist he has curled up on his other, free hand. "... someone actually wanted to go with you? suprising," he comments dryly. a little colder than you expected so you still spare a raised brow to his quick, words. you shove him playfully. "I am completely—perfectly date material,"

I'd like to be the judge of that. ace sighs quietly. that kind of thought seems way out of reach in reality now though, whoever got you first is one lucky bastard.

"sure,"

"yeah I just hope grim doesn't get us kicked out of the venue,"

oh.

incredulously, he turns to you with barely contained shock. "grim? you're going with grim?"

you tilt your head. "who else? we are each others platonic soul mate," you claim with a grin. grim might be a headache most of the time but you can't deny that you've grown fond of the chaos he brought into your life.

if he's your platonic soulmate then what is he? ace gulps. "I must be your, other kind of soulmate then?" he says in a joking manner. your romantic sense of soulmate? you side eye him.

"I think so,"

he blinks. are we flirting right now? he'd like to ask.

ace is great at changing topics.

kind of.

"you can't bring a cat as the one you go with. riddle will literally behead you with his bare hands," moments ago ace had let go of your shoulders and let his hands settle behind the back of his head. act casual, he thinks.

at some point he's been telling himself what to do several times in the middle of the conversation with you, taking in the points he constructs an appropriate action. he's completely gone off track from going with the flow.

you snort. "no way dude. with his tiny little hands?" obviously joking you shiver at the thought of riddle listening to your conversation and comment. you'd be beheaded on spot. he is true though, if you brought grim the rules technically wouldn't account him as a guest so basically you're listed alone.

I refuse to be single in valentines day. you think in determination. but alas.. no one really had ask you. you cast an inquisitive look at ace, you certainly wouldn't mind him..

you clear your throat and look away, I am not down bad!

but if I don't ask now would I be able to spend a valentines with the person I'd like to be mine at all? you both think.

"hey do you—"

"I've been thinking—"

you both pause at each other running over the others words. you point at him then nod, but he shakes his head and nudges you. "you first,"

ugh.

"I've been thinking.. you said I can't go with grim, how about you?" you say quietly. embarassment coating your features and ace's heart actually started racing. is this really happening right now? is this real?

but.. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't beat me to that," he deadpans. and you smirk once you realize what he's talking about. ace does not like being one upped at all.

he fakes a cough and clears his throat. "wanna be my valentines?" you're lucky if you are my valentines. ace tells himself. but I might be even luckier.

ㅤ

jack howl ── actually asked crewel at first (since it seems like that man practically adopted you) before asking you.

"so puppy," in an empty classroom—his, empty classroom crewel sits on his velvety cushioned chair. over the table jack howl sits tensely, ears stiffed up high. his tail in a similar dilemma, listening to even a single sound of displeasure on crewel's face.

jack has never felt so nervous in the face of his professor, but he doubts crewel is even his professor right now. the 'technically' only family you consider right now would be the best word to describe him. even he wasn't this nervous the first time he was let on the field. his first magishift game.

he doubted crewel would even spare him the time. but when he mentioned something about you, the man's face shifted into something blank and frankly the way he peered down at him was terrifying. jack realized you were something precious to the man and had gotten a look deeper into his fatherly protectiveness.

of course crewel assumed something worse. and demanded, that he spit out whatever he has to say about you before he makes him. jack thought no one would find anything if he were to miraculously disappear right now.

he does understand, rather than thinking it was cruel jack emphasized. he would do anything for his pack too, his family.

"let's continue with that conversation we had shall we? now in particular," crewel hums. "I'd like it for you to spit it out, if anything happened to the prefect I assure you. the following events, you will not like,"

jack shivers at the underlying fury beneath his words and hell. he completely forgot to tell crewel the reason why he's in front of a noticeably worried parent. and perhaps if he did about a while ago? maybe he would be facing something more bearable, and less.. scary..

"I,,, I apologize sir. nothing bad happened to the prefect," jack clears his throat and breathes in the air in relief when crewel's sharp stare softens—he breathes a similar sigh to his. "why didn't you start with that? I can't say I like puppies who beat around the bush,"

he is not a puppy. jack would like to add but he doesn't think he'd like to see another sharp stare for the sake of his pride.

this one is fidgety. crewel notes, noticing his tense shoulders and averting gaze. he wonders what kind of business he has with him when the boy practically had done everything to 'discuss something' with him. maybe a failing grade? he is quite strict with academics. if he mentioned you then are you the one failing?

crewel huffs. impossible, you can't have a failing grade! he tutors you after class!

the man crosses his arms. "what is it then?"

the moment of truth. jack wills the anxiety to evaporate out of his body as he faces the man whose answer will depend on his answers. "I would like to ask if I could ask the prefect out this week—" jack feigns a cough. "—as my valentines as well,," not entirely consensual on his part but his voice trails off weakly at the end.

(okay I might be writing this too seriously. jack treats this seriously it's kinda comedic lol)

crewel blinks, huffs and barks out a laugh. a little out of disbelief but it's quite entertaining to him to see this puppy on his knees figuratively asking him? for the prefect? on a date? how funny.

maybe he would have said a simple; 'absolutely not' because no one could ever have someone as good as you. but he's seen enough, clearly this boy's love for you might even be beyond his imagination. if he says yes it will only continue to grow and surpass even his own.

the thought of someone loving you more than him is preposterous! maybe he feels a little old for this time to happen so soon. and no way he's letting some,,, boy take you away from him!

but it would do the both of you some good. he concludes.

jack stares at him in confusion. was it so ridiculous that he had to laugh?

crewel plays a rare smile, small but one nonetheless. "you must be jack," the prefect has told a lot about you. it seems like your love is returned in full. he thinks.

the door opens and jack jolts. speak of the devil. crewel smirks. this will make up for good entertainment.

what an unlikely pair, jack and crewel? you raise your brows in suprise. your eyes slide to the former, he looks kinda scared wonder what happened here. you wondered.

the smirk on crewel's face has jack internally praying. "has anyone asked you for valentines, honey?"

you deadpan. that is quite concerning, the first thing crewel would've done if that was the cause was hunt whoever that was down. "... no, why?"

crewel stands up and saunters over to the other side of the table—where jack sits and the boy tensed up quickly when he felt the skin of crewel's gloves on his shoulder. crewel was gripping his broad shoulders, menacingly but yet managing to smile at you.

"how about this one?" he grins.

in all fairness—you gaped, and stared at the two like they had grown three heads. "w-what?" you gulped. a little embarrassed by the stammer but can you blame yourself? you had gone in the room you know whose crewel's to unwind and maybe have a chat with him not.. this strange predicament.

you know full well what he's implying and if it were any other person you'd have no problem saying no.

but it's jack!

you scratch your head. awkward silence drifts over the atmosphere when you and jack both meet eyes. crewel's hands finally leave the former's shoulders but not without an aspirated sigh. he thought this would be amusing to watch, not... overbearing.

"oh for seven's sake. why don't both of you go to the gala as each other's valentines?" crewel smiles thinly, and it seems like there's no room for arguments. "any objections,"

you stare at jack's silence. he's alright with this? you nervously think before frowning. "that's.. unfair, jack would want to have a valentines that's his own choice," you shake your head. willing he strange pressure around your throat as you do so. hell you're practically already jealous on the person he'd choose.

"no." jack denies. "I'm glad, you're the only person I'd like to be mine," you assume he's referring to you as his valentines but honestly? the way he said 'mine' had you feeling kinda warm.

finally. crewel is pleased with his work.

he scowls. "good. now get out," enough of this teenage romance. crewel's had enough for the day.

ㅤ

epel felmier ── tried to ask you several times in a planned day but ended up chickening out. that is, until the situation just called for it

"what did they say?"

epel blinks away from his haze at the sound of vil's questioning voice. "what?" he dumbly mumbles out. besides heartslabyul famous rose maze, pomefiore has a rather beautiful garden. more variety of flowers and wildlife. exclusively only accessible to the dorm's students.

even epel can say that despite his hate for the dorm itself it's very nice to be around this particular spot—epel would have stayed, and used it as his hiding spot if vil didn't like it as well. unfortunately for him it meant that the garden is still under the scrutinizing gaze or the dorm leader.

which meant that he basically gets no break. epel would like to climb over the dorm's walls.

right now the field isn't housing people other than him and vil. he assumes rook had shoo'd them away, given how vil is currently using it. the latter sets down his tea cup on it's tray before raising a brow at epel. "... the prefect? you were going on all about how you were gonna ask them to be your valentines earlier," vil says.

epel curses in his mind and hoped that the distraught look was something vil didn't catch. though he doubts it he still hopes.

vil stays silent but keeps the raised brow for a second longer. he shakes his head after dropping it entirely. "don't tell me you failed," something as simple as that? come on. vil is sure that you wouldn't even deny the apple of pomefiore. anyone could see how reciprocated epel's feelings are.

his stare hardens in disappointment. "epel,"

epel keeps his mouth shut and replies in his mind. what? he told me to not tell him. epel resists to roll his eyes..

vil crosses his arms over his chest just as rook chimes from the entrance. "what a shame. I thought it was a perfect time to strike!" he grins.

epel blanches. "what the—rook you were there?" that, he did not know. epel points an accusing gaze at vil whom pretends to not notice, sipping on his tea and all. the smile on rook's face does not waver as he tips his hat as a greeting. "fufu.. we simply could not leave our precious apple without guidance,"

"I don't need your guidance, imma a grown man!" epel snaps. letting his accent accent slip past for a second before deflating once he realizes. vil stares at him silently, though rook spares him a look of pity. which is not really helping!

"I mean.. thanks?" as some kind of last effort to lessen the fury epel clears his throat.

fortunately vil was in a good mood so he let it slide.

"we were speaking about the prefect?"

vil urges epel to explain whatever happened and the boy's face twists into awkwardness. probably having war flashbacks hours ago, it was embarrassing because all the things he had planned went to waste. epel does not want to talk about it.

"prefect? oh they were looking as magnifique as ever~ they are on the way here as we speak now,"

what.

epel completely freezes as he practically was on the road to breaking his neck with how fast it snapped over to rook. did he hear that right? if he did epel hoped he was deaf in that moment. he looks down and hastily pats the crumbs of crackers out of his uniform.

oh seven no! he looked atrocious right now, his hair still had twigs from the mishap with you earlier and the literal reason he ran away was because he definitely did not want you to see him like he just crawled out of a jungle.

vil shoots him a look. I told you so. he should have taken up his suggestion of taking a bath to clear out the dirt. he didn't even have time to change, epel slumps. it's a miracle vil let him walk around like that which epel actually hoped he didn't for once.

maybe this is vil's influence. epel suddenly caring about appearance and all but he does admit he had grown a little self conscious when you were in his case.

he doesn't get a chance to ponder about it any longer since your head popped in to peer into the garden, suprised at the three guys looking right at you. all varying faces of happiness, indifferent and grief?

vil clears his throat even though it feels completely all right. "ahem.. rook why don't we finish our plans for the annual magishift?" the man is already walking to which the other follows. his words catches your attention.

your brows raise. strange "magishift? i thought you guys didn't like that," true. comes vil's blank face but his dorm isn't a loser. after all, their performance reflects on the evil queen and vil would hate it to be a bad light.

"hmph. we are not just beauty you know," he smirks and continues on towards the path, rook trailing behind him nodding along.

on their way out he can still hear the duo. vil's huff; "it's painful to watch them," and rook's response; "I am merely pleased i could bear witness to the fruits of love,"

you take in his messy appearance and epel winces, placing a carefully practiced 'cute' smile on his face. "don't say anything about it," please. epel has an abnormally softer voice compared to that of he shows you.

this boy is trying to manipulate me? you wonder in amusement. he does look quite messy though, it's a wonder vil acted so casual with him a few minutes ago. since you were the one who scared him to tripping on that poor bush you suppose the least you could do was help him clean up.

epel recoils away from your outstretched hand the moment it touched his hair. heat soars through his face as he nearly screeches. "what are you doing?!" calming down the slightest at your bewildered expression.

"there's twigs in your hair,"

",,oh,,"

reluctantly he sits back down in his chair, squirming at the sensation of your fingers digging in for the sticks and twigs he had forgotten to shake off. epel feels awfully flustered by a simple thing.

the time passes. the sky gets darker, and epel gets more comfortable. the tense in his shoulders eventually deteriorates into a relaxed posture. he's never felt so comfortably before. I hope there's more stuff in there so you don't have to go. epel thinks.

"all done,"

yes, epel will do anything to get you to stay longer.

"what if you were my valentines tomorrow..?" he blurts out.

you movements stutter in response. well that was forward. you think, you'd expect nothing less from epel, plans weren't his forte anyways. with vil's absence he has no problem saying his mind. then again, the reason he probably failed before was because of the presence of rook.

"I mean,, it's just a what if,," he trails off looking unsure.

you sigh and shake your head. unable to keep the smile off your face. "sure. let's ditch the gala tomorrow, yeah?"

the grin on epel's face is practically shining. "yeah!" he perks up in excitement before pausing. "I mean,, yeah," to pretend he's cool. you suppose.

ㅤ

sebek zigvolt ── ITS ALL LILIAS WORK

"you! where is the human prefect?"

the student at the end of sebek's finger pretty much all but froze up. staring stupidly at it (admittedly looking a bit scared) only igniting the impatience within sebek since he scowled and the scared silence and shook his head. what else did he expect from a human?

the intense sharp stare from sebek probably ran off the shock and fear from the student because finally, they started speaking. "u-uh... who are you looking for?" they quietly ask.

sebek's eye twitches.

did they not hear him? "hmph. if you were listening to what I was saying, you'd know," maybe a mouth he just kind of got from the early years of his father, maybe he did actually get that from lilia.

the student cowers. I want to go home. they knew they shouldn't have rolled off their comfortable bed... far better than this predicament. they definitely don't deserve this anger. but there's like,,, 4 human prefects, they'd like to add to defend themselves but the word just dies up in their mouth when sebek huffed—and turned like he didn't figure it would be wise to waste his time here.

they sigh.

further down fhe hallway sebek marches. quickly, quietly—back stiff yet proper, just as he'd been trained to do. proper manners. something you don't seem to have. you're always cooped up in the center of chaos somewhere, in the back of sebek's mind a voice reminds that you weren't given the same treatment and training as him but he needed a reason.

a reason to hate you, and love you less he supposed.

it doesn't seem to be working though, given as he's literally about to turn the school upside down to look for you.

he has no idea why he'd even asked his father in the first place. attempting to 'court' a human! it seemed preposterous when you're just about every trait he dislikes. ahem, the fact that you aren't a fae is enough for him to consider it horribly.

what if you were taken? someone delusional tells him in his mind.

why should you care? another chips in.

yeah why should he care? he grumbled incoherent words. currently he has the brain to stop in his tracks, not waste his time here—but not the heart.

because his heart speaks the feelings his mouth won't let him, because it beats for you, and is just about to leap out when you do anything that he'd really like to keep the withering smile out of his face.

he doesn't smile. soliders do not, a great one like his father had learned to control his emotions but the one they call 'love' is something he can't get the hang of.

sebek thinks back to the occurrence that had went by a while ago.

──

"I don't get it father. I don't need to calm down I need a doctor!" sebek explained loudly. trailing after the much shorter boy like a puppy. lilia can tell that his very jolly dear son is taking hid 'disease' very seriously by the exaggerated hand motions that he pairs with his equally flabbergasted words.

lilia chuckles, silly yet so endearing. "go again by your symptoms dear," he strolls in the kitchen, completely missing sebek's mortified face.

should he run right now? but he must not ignore lilia's request!

some things need sacrifices. he concludes. "well! my chest is beating very fast, it's like I am going to have a heart attack. which is why I need a healer, father!" he argues before pausing. "—also I've been very warm lately, I think I have a fever as well," he adds.

my dear little sebek is oblivious, lilia giggles to himself. but in the face of his son he merely raises his brow in feign suprise. "and,,, all of this is with the prefect around?"

sebek nods.

lilia's giggles intensify.

"I know just the thing!"

the younger boy perks up. he knew going to lilia was a spectacular idea! lilia seriously beckoned sebek to bend down to his height a little. "you have to proclaim your feelings to the prefect themselves so it would go away,"

lilia added, "and to seal the deal you have to ask them to be your valentines,"

he grinned.

though sebek blinks in confusion.

──

sebek thought his advice was strange but if lilia thought it was the right thing to do then he'd do it.

after a period of just questioning people around the halls. he found you himself—and all by himself. hm, if he knew the humans wouldn't serve any purpose he would have did this in the first place. to think he had conversed with them for nothing after all.

you remove one earbud from your ear at the light flooding into the room. you stretch your arms and yawn lightly. "sebek? what's up?" you greet shortly. the green haired boy shutting the door behind him with no regard to his strength as it lead to a loud sound of impact.

atleast it closed?

sebek scours the room with disinterest but answers you. "the ceiling, I'm suprised you don't know,"

you deadpan. "i- whatever, I meant to ask if you needed something from me," you gesture to him. "seeing as you entered my humble abode without knocking,"

he crosses his arms over his chest. "I thought ramshackle is your abode," less humble. sebek thought, watching you shrug and flop down on a cushion comfortably. the music still plays in your other ear, so it was kind of hard to hear him fully.

you hum along the melody. "it's quite far so I set up my little corner in the school," you snort. so this is where you probably disappear to. sebek thinks. he can't bring himself to insult anything.

"anyways. why're you here?"

"you've made me sick and father told me to tell you some things," he explained. surprising you with the lack of intensity and volume in his voice. sebek would very much like to flop down next to you right now but that wouldn't be proper at all..

and, he doesn't know if he can ever control that feeling if he does.

you raise your brow. "uh? go on?" am I going to be told a briar valley secret then executed for knowing? you wonder.

he exhales slowly. "I've told father about my symptoms you've infected me with," sebek huffs. his first words both concerning and confusing you. "the heart attacks, and warmth so I've come here to tell you to get rid of them,"

I have no idea what he's talking about. you think, other than a flu a month ago you're pretty alright in terms of health..

"to seal the deal i would like to ask you to be my valentine!" he proudly says.

you stifle a laugh. lilia, that bastard. poor sebek doesn't have an idea of what he's asking. with the whole valentine deal you can see what kind of 'symptoms' he's talking about. "um,, I'm not sure you're aware of what you're asking right now," you say. as much as you'd like to take him as your valentine you wouldn't be too happy if you knew it's not because he wanted you to be.

"how about I tell you what lilia's talking about then I'll ask you again if you want me to be your valentines?"

you smile at his nod then pat the spot next to you.

sebek is no fool.

he understood what lilia was doing. but to him it's a clear opportunity to take you for valentines without you knowing that,, he is. he feels kind of horrible for using lilia to cover it up but..

the time you spent together is enjoyable enough to let it slide.

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