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alwaysmicado · 7 months

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Wet

3.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 2

Warnings: no outbreak au, implied age gap, smut: pussy sliding, unprotected piv, choking, creampie, public sex, pet names, degradation/praise, soft!dom Joel, aftercare Summary: You run into Joel at the gym. Seeing him all sweaty in his gym shorts turns you on, so you fuck him in the whirpool. A/N: Get your favorite protein shake ready, make sure to stay hydrated, and have fun! 💦 Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 🖤 series masterlist / AO3

“Mmm, I’d know that beautiful ass anywhere,” a deep voice behind you murmurs. You duck your head to look at Joel’s shoes through your spread legs. “This your signature move, Miller? Perving on girls in the gym at night?” You hear him chuckle, “Only you, baby.”

It’s 98°F today and your AC died five days ago. You’ve been too busy with work to call someone to fix it for you, so you’re currently lounging on your couch in your panties and a white tank top, beads of sweat forming on your face and chest, fanning yourself with an envelope that used to contain a wedding invite from your co-worker. It’s far too hot in your apartment and the prospect of spending your whole weekend in this sweatbox is giving you a headache. Since it’s already 8pm on a Friday, there’s zero chance you can get your AC fixed before tomorrow, and that’s if someone’s available on such short notice.

You sigh and get up to pour yourself a glass of water. It’s ice cold after sitting in your fridge all day and cools you down nicely from the inside. Your phone lights up with a message from your gym, notifying you of a promotion they're offering for their new line of protein shakes. The gym is two blocks away from your apartment and has a big indoor pool. Why not, you think. Do a quick workout and then cool off in the water. Sounds like a plan.

The girl at the gym’s front desk greets you cheerily and compliments your shorts. They’re bright pink and make your ass look incredible. You thank her and go to the locker room to change shoes and stow your bag. You take your towel and water bottle with you and go to the main room with all the cardio and strength equipment to do a warm-up before running a few miles. The room is empty save for a handful of people doing their own thing.

You lay your towel down on the mat and start doing a few yoga poses to stretch all of your tense muscles. When you’re going into the Downward Dog pose, you exhale deeply and try to let go of all the stress that’s been weighing you down lately. Work, the heat, your family, your life-

You sigh deeply and get up. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here on a Friday night, hm?” Joel asks, taking a swig from his shaker and licking his lips. Now that you’re getting a good look at him, you can only stare for a few seconds. He looks sinfully handsome in his black shirt and gym shorts, his hair already a bit wet and disheveled from a previous workout.

“My AC’s broken,” you eventually find your words, “I’m just here to cool off in the pool.” Joel furrows his brow and tilts his head, “Why didn’t you tell me? You know what I do for work.” You give him a smile, “It just went out a few hours ago, no big deal. I’ll call someone tomorrow.” Joel looks at you for a second before nodding. “Alright, sweetheart, gotta do my next set. And you keep doing those beautiful poses,” he winks at you, “giving me all sorts of ideas.”

You resume your yoga routine and try to concentrate on your breathing again. It’s no use. All you can focus on is Joel’s biceps and triceps flexing a few feet away from you, sweat running down his neck, his strained face, the way his big hands grip the weights. Oh, and his spread legs in those slutty shorts he’s wearing. You could just sit between them and blow him while he’s doing his workout. Or straddle him while he’s sitting on the bench, rubbing yourself on his hard cock, your bodies separated by the thin material of your shorts only.

You can feel wetness seeping out of your pulsing pussy and pooling in your synthetic thong. You press your legs together, flex your abdomen and stretch your torso to try and distract yourself from your burning arousal, but it doesn’t work. You can’t concentrate on anything but your throbbing clit and the fact that your cunt should be clenching around Joel’s thick cock right now instead of nothing. Your heart is racing and your skin is on fire.

When you sit up and spread your legs, you realize that there’s a visible wet spot on your shorts. Joel is taking a sip from his shaker when his eyes lock with yours and then drop down to your exposed core. His brow furrows, eyes wide when he chokes a little on the thick liquid going down his throat. He tries to play it cool, but you’re already giggling smugly. He glowers at you, but you just bite your lip and tilt your head. He is too easy sometimes.

You turn around, get on all fours and present Joel with a perfect view of your ass and the damp fabric hugging your folds when you move into Downward Dog again. You make sure to hold the position for a few long seconds before getting back on your hands and knees again, moving into Cat and Cow. After a few repetitions of those poses, you can hear weights hitting the floor rather aggressively.

“You need it that bad, huh?” Joel is standing in front of you now, his erection clearly visible through the thin fabric of his shorts. You look up at his face, feigning innocence, “No idea what you’re talking about.” Joel scoffs, “All you need to do is ask nicely, darlin’. No need to act like a desperate whore.” He crouches down and grabs your chin roughly to force you to look into his dark eyes. “Or is that what you are, hm? A desperate whore showing everyone what a mess she made in her pants?”

Fuck, it turns you on when he talks to you like this. You look up at him with big eyes and bite your lip. “Hmm, poor baby can’t even use her words anymore,” he tuts mockingly, tracing your lips with his thumb. “It’s okay, baby. I know what you need.”

Joel releases your chin and gets up to stand above you. “Tell me what you are and I’ll give you what you need. Simple as that, darlin’.” You’d usually try to defy him, but your physical need for him to fuck you outweighs any and all inclinations to be a brat right now. “I’m a desperate whore for your cock, sir,” you purr, batting your eyelashes. “Yeah, that’s right,” Joel smirks, palming himself over his shorts. “Time for a swim, don’t you think?”

—---

The water looks beautiful. Turquoise, clean, cool. Joel dims the lights and closes the door behind you two. There’s no one else in the pool area right now, but you can’t lock the door from the inside.

“C’mere,” Joel growls, pulling you close by your waist with one hand and grabbing the back of your neck with the other. “You gonna be a good girl and take what I give you, hm?” He raises an eyebrow at you, the dark glint in his eyes making your whole body tingle. His face is so close to yours that you can feel his hot breath and smell the intoxicating mix of sweat and aftershave. You want him so bad it hurts.

“Yes, sir,” you coo, your pulse quickening rapidly. Joel lets go of your waist and grabs your chin instead. “Look at me, baby.” You lock eyes with him and swallow. “You get off on being a pathetic little slut in public, don’t you,” he smirks at you. You nod and can’t hide the grin spreading across your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, pulling you close for a passionate kiss. His plush lips find yours, pressing against you gently but commandingly, making you moan into his mouth. His skilled tongue circles yours as he tangles one hand in your hair and runs the other down your back slowly. He squeezes your ass and then slides his hand further down, feeling the damp spot between your legs, massaging you softly through your pants. His hard cock is rubbing against your thigh and you want nothing more than to feel him deep inside you, filling you up over and over again until you can’t think straight anymore.

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathe against his lips, “I want you so bad.” He grabs your ass cheeks with both of his big hands and pulls you up his thigh. “I got you, darlin’. Gonna fuck you so good you’ll be begging me to stop.” You press your thighs together and whimper at the thought. Joel nuzzles his nose against the delicate skin of your jaw and hums, “Yeah, I know that’s what you need.” He starts trailing soft kisses down your neck from behind your ear all the way down to your clavicle while you tangle your hands in his curls and moan softly into his ear.

“Tell you what, baby. If you make it into the pool naked before me, I’ll let you come tonight,” he smiles mischievously against your hot skin. You stare at him like a deer in headlights for a split second before determination sets in and you rip your shirt and sports bra off.

Joel starts fumbling with his shirt as well when he realizes you’re taking this seriously, but you’re already shucking off your shoes and pulling down your pants along with your panties before he can even get to his shoes. You run towards the pool and clumsily jump on one leg at a time while taking your socks off without stopping.

Joel just laughs to himself and stares at you in awe, your beauty taking him by surprise every single time. You lift your hands above your head and jump into the wonderfully cold water head first. It feels incredible.

You come up again and put your arms on the edge of the pool, Joel’s naked toes appearing right in front of your face. He looks down at you and laughs, “Remind me to never underestimate your desperation for my cock again, baby. Alright?” And with that he jumps into the water.

You both swim a few laps, trying different styles, making a race out of it until Joel catches you by your ankle and pulls you back into his broad chest, his arms wrapping around your naked torso from behind. “Can’t stand that I’m winning, old man?” you chuckle breathlessly, your chest heaving from the exertion. “You’re such a brat,” Joel growls, moving one hand to cup the soft flesh of your left breast, kneading it roughly and rolling your pebbled nipple until you cry out in pain, while the other hand finds its way down your belly.

“You love it,” you pant, turning your head to look at him. He immediately removes the hand that was almost touching you where you need it the most and puts it around your neck, squeezing hard. “You’re really pushing your luck tonight, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his face so close that his lips brush yours, “let’s go in the whirlpool.”

Joel gets in first, closing his eyes, spreading out his arms and groaning at the feeling of the jets massaging his back and legs. You smile at the sight. You know he has a stressful job and isn’t the type to allow himself much downtime, so it warms your heart to see him be able to relax when he’s with you. He’s beautiful. “You just gonna stare at me or come in,” his voice yanks you from your thoughts. “C’mere and sit on my lap, pretty girl.”

He immediately wraps his arms around you once you’re straddling him, tracing your back with his palms. His cock is already hardening again and you can’t help yourself but start rocking back and forth on it.

“Mmm, what a needy little thing you are,” Joel coos, “can’t wait for me to fuck you, huh?” You nod and whimper at the delicious feeling of your swollen clit finally getting the stimulation it has been aching for. “Shame you had to be a brat today and behave like a bitch in heat in front of everyone,” he grips the back of your neck with his hand, sending shivers down your spine.

“You wanna get off so bad, you do it. But I’m not gonna help you,” he searches your eyes intently, “got it?” He raises his eyebrows and you nod slowly. “Good. Now be a good girl and make yourself come on my cock.”

You start rolling your hips, your slick folds sliding over Joel’s length continuously. “Fuck me, you feel so good, baby,” he moans, arms crossed behind his head. You keep grinding and tilt your pelvis so you’re stimulating your clit with every movement you make.

You’ve not fucked anyone since Joel a week ago and it’s been too hot in your apartment for you to get in the mood and masturbate, so you’re understandably desperate for release. It’s so close you can taste it, but still too far away. You dig your fingers into Joel’s shoulders as your movements get more erratic, the tension in your lower belly close to snapping.

“That’s it, baby,” Joel pants, “keep going.” He keeps his eyes trained on your face and puts his hands on your waist. For a second you hope he might help guide you and start thrusting his hips, maybe even fuck you, but you know better. He loves it too much when you’re desperate.

You’re so close to coming, but just can’t seem to get there completely, no matter how hard or fast you rub yourself on his cock. You whine in frustration, hot tears starting to well in your eyes.

“Look at me, baby,” Joel purrs, “you wanna say something?” You shake your head, trying to avert your gaze and blink away your tears. Joel grips your chin and forces you to look at him. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” he coos sweetly, the smirk on his face telling you that he’s mocking you.

“It hurts, Joel,” you whimper, tears rolling down your cheeks now. He cups your face and wipes them away with his thumbs. “Well, princess, it wouldn’t have to if you didn’t behave like a little whore. You think I should reward that behavior, hm?”

Your pussy’s on fire and you’d say anything at this point if it meant you could come. “I’m so sorry, sir. Please help me, I’ll do anything, please, please, just help me,” you whine pathetically. “Aww, you poor thing,” Joel teases, “no fight left in ya, huh?” You shake your head and fall into him, burying your face into his neck, putting your arms around him. “Please, Joel,” you sob, “I need you.”

He wraps his arms around you and strokes your hair. “You’re a good girl for asking so nicely. Wasn’t that hard now, was it?” You look into his eyes and shake your head no. “Good girls get rewarded, you know that.”

He nudges your nose with his and presses his soft lips on yours, kissing you urgently, nibbling and biting until he can’t take it anymore himself. “Sit on my cock, baby,” he pants, holding his shaft up with his hand. You position yourself right above his tip and sink down on him slowly. You almost come instantly, the way he’s stretching you open the perfect combination of painful and pleasurable.

“Fuuuck, that’s it, baby. Take what you need from me,” Joel encourages you, gripping your hips and guiding you up and down on his thick cock. You can’t hold back your moans anymore, bouncing on him frantically, throwing your head back and flexing the muscles in your abdomen.

“Fuck, Joel, I’m so close,” you whine, starting to feel dizzy from the overwhelming mix of sensations. “Look at me when you come on my cock, baby,” Joel commands. You open your eyes, brow furrowed, mouth slightly opened, and look into his big dark eyes. “Just let go, baby,” he pants, “you’re doing so good for me.”

Your skin is burning and your heart is racing when the tension inside you finally snaps and you come with a strangled moan. You convulse in ecstasy, your walls spasming and contracting around Joel, sending him over the edge himself. “F-fuck!” he groans, holding you down and thrusting up a few times, emptying himself inside you.

You collapse into him, as the aftershocks of your orgasm run through your body. “C’mere, darlin’. I got you,” Joel mumbles into your ear breathlessly, holding you tight and stroking your hair gently.

The sudden rush of dopamine and oxytocin flooding your brain is forcing tears down your cheeks. You’re so exhausted that you can’t stop yourself from crying and sobbing into the crook of Joel’s neck. “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s okay. I’m here,” he reassures you calmly, drawing soothing circles on your back.

Your body’s still trembling and the tears won’t stop. “I know, baby, I know. I’m here, just breathe.” He kisses the top of your head and murmurs into your hair how proud he is of you and how good you’ve been.

After a few minutes of silence, you’ve calmed down enough to open your eyes and lift your head again. “There’s my pretty girl,” Joel cups your face and smiles at you softly. “Let’s go take a shower, hm?”

---

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” you murmur while Joel’s gently rubbing soap into your skin. “No need to apologize, darlin’. Crying after the incredible orgasm I gave you seems pretty natural to me,” he smirks and you giggle.

“I never want you to hide your feelings from me. Just want you to be yourself around me, always,” he looks at you earnestly. You nod and smile at him before rinsing off the shampoo in your hair. You both towel off, gather your clothes and go to the respective locker rooms to change.

Joel waits for you outside the gym’s front door, enjoying the cool night air. You try to sneak by the front desk, fearing that the receptionist might have put two and two together or even heard you, but of course she sees you. “Have a great night,” she winks at you and gives you a big smile.

“I can never come here again, I hope you’re happy,” you sigh and Joel chuckles. “Not my fault, baby, remember? I was just doing my workout when you came and decided to put your pussy on display.” You slap his arm and laugh.

“Well, have a good-” “Let me drive you home, darlin’,” Joel interrupts you, taking your hand in his. You shake your head. “I live like ten feet away from here, you don’t have to drive me.” “I know I don’t. I want to. No buts, c'mon.”

Despite your reassurance that you’re fine and that he doesn’t need to bring you upstairs, Joel’s currently in your apartment, fixing you a glass of water and an Advil. You should know better by now than to expect anything less from him - he’s a gentleman through and through.

“Let’s get you to bed, darlin’,” he leads you into your bedroom, helping you out of your clothes and into a new shirt and pair of shorts. “Thanks, Joel. It was really nice seeing you tonight,” you murmur, your eyes getting heavy as soon as your head hits your soft pillow. “You too, sweetheart.”

You think you feel him put a soft kiss on your lips and murmur something when you drift off to sleep. You're probably just dreaming already.

If only you knew how much you mean to me.

Something’s off when you wake up in the morning. You rub your eyes, stretch, look around your room and can’t figure out what it is. Only when you step into your living room, it hits you. Your AC is working. You smile to yourself and look for your phone.

You: Thank you, mr. contractor

Joel: Anything for you, babe

—--

part 1 || part 3 || series masterlist

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

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Shirt Swap II

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get a package

When you and Momma get home from the park, there's a package outside of your door.

You scamper up the front steps and kick at it.

Momma sighs. "Princesse, what have I told you about kicking boxes?"

"Not to," You huff," Because they might be fragile. But! But, it's got my name on it! Is it stuff for the new house?"

Momma and Morsa have been busy packing a lot lately. They say it's because you're going back to Germany and they're getting stuff ready for the new house.

They've got the World Cup first though so the summer is going to be very stressful and busy, which is why they're packing everything now.

"If it was stuff for the new house," Momma says fondly as she picks up the package and opens the front door," Then it wouldn't be addressed to you."

"But it is for me!" You insist, pointing at the label," See, it's got my name!"

It has got your name but it's also got a bunch of other labels on it too.

Momma gets a box cutter and opens it. "It looks like it's come from abroad," She says, cutting through the layers of tape and pulling the flaps up.

"Ooh," You say, kneeling by the coffee table as you peak inside.

There's a little letter at the very top but you're more interested in the many jerseys underneath it.

You grab at them, pulling each out carefully. You recognise a lot of them as Barcelona jerseys - the blue and red design recognisable easily.

Momma reads the letter as you go through them.

Most of them are Barcelona shirts like you thought but there's a white shirt too with blue accents and the crest of three lions on it.

"Momma!" You gasp as you hold it between your hands," It's a Keira Walsh shirt! Momma, look!"

You hold it up triumphantly, a look of complete awe on your face.

Momma's smiling at you. "I can see that," She says, waving the letter at your face," It's signed too. Have you noticed?"

You hadn't at first but, as you look at your little pile, you notice that all of them are signed.

"Wow."

"They're from Aitana," Momma says as she reads you bits of the letter," She hopes that you're doing well and she's sorry that it took so long. Please enjoy the collection of club and national team jerseys she's gotten from her teammates."

You take little time to think before you're tearing through the box again, throwing jerseys around as you dig through it.

You've got two Keira Walsh jerseys - her England one and her Barcelona one.

You've got another Caro one too, her Norway shirt this time instead of an old Wolfsburg one. You get an Engen shirt too. You vaguely recall Engen in your memory, at your last year at Wolfsburg with her and Auntie Frido (who had also encased just her Barcelona jersey because you had so many of her Swedish ones).

You brush your fingers over the fabric of the red Caro and Ingrid Norway shirts. It's red. You like red. It's not quite Arsenal red but red is red and you think the Norway shirts are really cool.

You tell as much to Momma.

She laughs. "You know, technically, my Denmark jerseys are red too."

You roll your eyes. "They're red-pink," You tell her," This is proper red. Not Arsenal proper red but still more red than red-pink."

You close off that line of argument by digging through the box again. You stop at a Barcelona shirt. You run your finger over the number eleven on the back and the name too.

You're very good at reading in all four of your languages so you spell it out quickly.

"A-lex-ia," You sound out slowly," Alexia." You frown. You think you've met someone called Alexia a few times before but never someone with a surname like that. "That's a weird last name."

Momma laughs again. "It's her first name, princesse. Sometimes, when you get very good and very famous, you get to put just your first name on your shirt."

You think about your keeper gloves, hanging out on your desk. You haven't packed them yet, not when you still have time to go to practice with Zećira and Ann-Katrin.

You look back at the shirt in your hands.

"I want to have my first name on my jerseys," You say softly, not exactly to Momma but you know that she can hear you," I want to be really good like that someday too."

Pernille smiles at you, not saying anything as your stare down at Putellas' jersey with a little crinkle in your brow. You keep looking at it for a moment longer, completely in awe at the singular first name on it before grasping for your England Keira Walsh shirt.

Momma helps you put it on just as the front door opens again.

Morsa appears in the doorway, hopping on one foot as she lifts the other in the air to take off her shoe. She looks at the carnage with one brow raised.

"Did a bomb go off?" She jokes," I don't remember ordering any new jerseys."

"Aitana Bonmatí sent them," Momma replies," Remember, I told you that we met her during the friendly against Spain? She was quite taken with our princesse." She pulls the jersey over your head. "So much so that she rounded up enough jerseys for maybe two extra teams."

"I've got two Keira Walsh jerseys, Morsa!" You exclaim excitedly. "And-And Caro and Ingrid's red Norway jerseys! They're so cool! Norway's so cool!"

Morsa looks a bit horrified at that. It seems that she can take you wearing Denmark jerseys but a line has definitely been crossed when you start chattering on about how cool Norway is.

"Alright," Morsa cuts you off right before you launch into a tirade about how cool Caro's dribbling skills are," Well, you've got new jerseys. So, what does that mean?"

You gasp. It completely skipped your mind and you scamper over to the hallway wall to stand against it, smiling proudly as Morsa snaps a picture of you wearing every new jersey Aitana sent you.

"Alright," Momma says once she's helped you back into your Keira Walsh England shirt," Now, Aitana also attached her number so how about we send her a little video?"

You grin at the camera, little fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Thank you, Aitana!"

"For?"

"For my new jerseys! Thank you!"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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word-wytch · 5 months

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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 16

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 16/? 9k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Frustrated by inconclusive endings, Eddie takes a seat behind the wheel.

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

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

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

✏︎ Chapter CW: general angst, paternal angst, drug mention

Thursday, December 12th 1985

Before the first morning bell, Eddie gave Judy at reception his best impression of Wayne over the phone. He wasn’t totally lying, he was in fact, quite sick. Sick of all the taunting looks from meathead jocks. Sick of the way Ms. O’Donnell cleared her throat every five minutes. Sick of waking up so goddamn early. Sick of wasting his time. So after hanging up the phone, he stuffed a few essentials in his backpack and made for the door.

Like clockwork, Wayne always came home at around 8:10 AM, and though it would be far from the first time he’d skipped school, Eddie would rather not have to explain himself. Besides, he could use a change of scenery. There was no denying winter anymore, the ice he scraped off his windshield made sure to remind him. On a typical hooky day he would drive down to Lover’s Lake and toss open the rear doors, catch a breeze, light a joint, sit back and take in the ripples on the water and the rustling leaves. But that had all frozen over, so unless he intended to burn through his whole tank of gas, he would need to get creative.

That was how he found himself at Benny’s at 7:58 on a Thursday morning, setting up camp in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He ordered his usual — bacon, scrambled eggs, and a stack of pancakes in addition to white toast. Tossing his fourth emptied sugar packet beside the leaning tower of creamers, he sat back in the sticky, padded seat and took his first deep breath all morning.

The diner was bustling lowly, a handful of regulars perched on silver, spinning stools at the bar. From the frosted window leeching cool air beside him, he watched the funeral procession of headlights down Washington under a mournful sky. Just another day for the upright citizens of Hawkins, Indiana. From his cozy booth, Eddie sipped the top off his very full mug and smiled to himself.

Sprawling his belongings around the piping hot plates, he popped on his headphones, cracked open his monster manual, and got to work. The first hour flew by like his pencil across the graph paper. Between the bacon bits that had leapt from hand to page, a formidable lineup of foes was taking shape. Bottom line; the boys were in for a world of hurt tomorrow. He did his best to resign the grease to the flimsy napkins, but by the time he was finished, syrup tacked the gargoyle and gorgon pages together.

“Anything else I can grab for ya besides the check?” Sheri—according to her name tag—asked with a tired lean as she reached to clear his plates.

Eddie glanced down sheepishly at his freshly topped off mug. “I uh, think I might be staying for lunch.”

Sheri forced a hot pink smile, catching the fork with her decorated finger when it threatened to slide off the plate. “Y’ want me to get a room set up for you too?” she joked with a wink of her spidery lashes. “Just teasin’ sweetie. You just flag me down when you’re ready.”

Switching out his tapes, Eddie shut the cassette player and stared out the window as the men at the bar tossed their napkins and fished out their wallets. Snow was falling in lazy clumps, clinging to his windshield. Somewhere behind the overcast clouds, the sun was rising steadily. It was dismal, a fitting backdrop for the opening track of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell. Of all the seasons, winter belonged to metal. Like it was made for cruising down a quiet, snow-covered street in the middle of nowhere. Made for drowning out Bing Crosby crooning from the speaker in the corner above him. Tinsel glittered on the small tree perched on a cloud of fake snow beside the cash register. Ornaments on swags swayed to the thump of footsteps passing. Eddie sighed and stared into the changing street lights.

Glancing at his watch he figured you were probably wrapping up the film with second period, knitting your brow and drawing your pen across the papers you were grading. He wondered what you’d think when the bell rang for fourth and you found his seat empty. Would you think he was upset with you? There was a small part of him that hoped so, and another part that hoped you would understand. After all, he was giving you the space you asked for, was he not?

Like a siren, your story—tucked between his notebook and the magazines he’d exhausted twice cover to cover—called to him. Cracking open the plastic spine, he dove headfirst into the typewritten pages.

For the whole narrow path into Rower’s End, Cybelle had sat in the front of the caravan, breathing the briny air unhindered by a barrier. Lazarus admired the brilliant fullness of her smile as she watched the seagulls soar overhead, under the clouds she had only ever seen from above. The sunlight had graced them then, beaming down in golden rays, glinting on the distant waves as they approached the sleepy seaside town.

Eddie could feel the corners of his mouth tug as Lazarus regaled Cybelle with a story of a time when he’d accidentally taken a crab home with him after spending a day at the beach, followed by an explanation of what a crab was. Cybelle seemed delighted with the prospect of seeing one, even more-so when he told her how he’d discovered the little hitchhiker when it pinched his rear in bed that night. Eddie noticed the way Cybelle leaned closer whenever Lazarus told stories, the way her hand came to shield her bare face with a giggle when he mentioned his rear. The way her delicate, copper fingers lingered over the soft skin of his forearm when she checked beneath his bandage. The wound was healing nicely — no sign of infection and not a thorn in sight. She warned that it might scar, but Lazarus did not appear concerned—rather the opposite actually—as if a strange part of him was pleased with the idea of having something to remember her by.

As they dipped over the final hill toward Rower’s End, Lazarus told her another story. A dream, rather, of a little cottage in Shantiglade with a full sized bed, and a garden, and a goose egg omelette big enough for two. A dream that would likely never come to pass. Cybelle seemed equally enchanted by it. Sitting back against the boxy, wooden seat of the caravan, she breathed in the salty air and imagined how good it would feel to do so every day. To experience the feeling of sand between her toes, of the ocean at her ankles, of propping her elbow against their shared kitchen table and gracing Lazarus with a naked smile before trying whatever an omelette was. It was good like this too — bumping along under a clear blue sky as Turnip plodded down the scarcely trodded path, watching the wind caress the wild grass and Lazarus’ even wilder curls, hearing his tales and his laughter.

Around the time he would be slumping into his desk in the back of your classroom, the bell dinged over the door of the restaurant. Eddie cranked the volume on his headset to drown out the chatter of a family of four clambering into the booth in front of him. The little boy had brought a pair of plastic drumsticks with him, beating a rhythm on the steel-rimmed table much to the annoyance of his little sister, who was clutching her book the way Eddie was yours. Dipping his few remaining fries into the smear of ketchup, he wondered why they weren’t in school on a Thursday afternoon. As he focused back on the type-written letters, he figured he should be the last to judge.

Eddie felt for Lazarus, he really did. The way he looked at Cybelle as she emerged from the cave, cradling the ghostfern like a pale, translucent child. The scene was as beautiful as it was somber — waves lapping at the rocky shoreline as the setting sun cast its deep orange hues on both of them. The rocks—slick with algae—had Cybelle stumbling, but Lazarus was quick to offer his arm. She accepted without hesitance, clutching the plant like a bouquet as her deep earthen fingers braced the pale angles of his. He lead her down the cascading stone as if it were a chapel aisle, slow and steady until they reached the flat edge of the water. There—in the golden remains of the day—seagulls dipped and soared over the glittering ocean, clasped hands swayed in the lapping wind, and for a moment, they had everything they came for.

After what seemed like both a small eternity and an aching second, it was Cybelle who broke away, tracing the ridges of his fingers as hers fell, stating out loud what both of them knew — that night was coming soon.

The journey back to Torgaard proved easier than the journey out, at least in terms of natural foes. No fenfinks or villainous vines, but the sky seemed to hang much lower. Dark, stormy clouds loomed overhead, casting its pale grey light over the moss curtains outside of Fenwood, over the verdant forests that shuddered in the gusting wind. There was a tension, a dread looming on the horizon that grew with each passing day. Even Eddie could sense it — the way Cybelle stared out into the swath of shifting green like she was attempting to soak up enough for the rest of her life. The way that Lazarus’ jokes were swallowed the creaking of the caravan. How nights that were once spent laughing over a roaring fire were now spent silently watching its crackling embers.

One day—just a few outside of Torgaard—the sky came crashing down. It sobbed in sheets, heavy enough to soak through Cybelle’s coat, to find the tear in her tent and make a lake of it. Lazarus ushered her inside the wagon, offered her a shirt that fit like a dress, offered to sleep on the floor. Assessing the size of the bed, and then the hard, narrow walking path, it was Cybelle who insisted they share it. She was small enough, or at least that was what she rationalized out loud. Lazarus did not argue. Her logic—unlike her tent—was water-tight. And so she climbed in between the soft linen sheets, tucked herself under the weight of the down blanket, and rested her damp, weary head on a pillow that smelled just like him.

Eddie glanced sheepishly around the restaurant, shielding the binder with his arm as Lazarus climbed in beside her. He hinged on each type-written word, lingering over the ones that stirred a fuzzy feeling. Written with careful attention to the way Lazarus’ chest rose and fell, how stiff their bodies were in hyper-awareness of the nearness to each other. How solid his shoulder felt under Cybelle’s cheek when the corner of pillow no longer sufficed. Slowly, they relaxed into the feeling. Not enough to sleep, but enough for Lazarus to free the arm that she was crushing. Enough to wrap it around her shoulder, to relish in the feeling of her cold nose in the warm crook of his neck.

It was good like this. Better when her fingers draped across the landscape of his pecks, felt his chest rise and fall like waves. Best when they awoke in the morning to the sun steaming in through the small, stained glass window above them. When their giggles shook the wagon. When their eyes met, closer than they’d ever been before. There, in the dim cocoon far outside the turning world, the smile that she had hidden for so long finally grew brave enough to capture his. And by the time they reached the towering stone walls of Torgaard, there was nothing more to hide from one another.

Eddie flipped the page to find only a black, plastic pocket. He rubbed it with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t sticking to another. When it failed to separate, he sat back and fumed. That was it. There was no more. No ending, no closure.

Sheri leaned against the top of the booth seat opposite him, hand on her hip, shifting between her dirty white sneakers with a tired sigh. “Listen sweetie, I’ve got ten minutes left of my shift. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I’ve gotta cash you out before I leave.”

Eddie glanced at his watch, almost 2:00. “Yeah—yeah, no problem. Sorry for the trouble.”

“’S no trouble, just the way it goes around here. Hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said with a wink as she dropped the check.

After six hours and two meals, Eddie had gotten his fill of watching the world turn through an old, frosted window. His head was spinning enough on its own. With a frustrated huff he peeled his graph paper and manual away from the sticky table before shoving them into his backpack. Slugging it over his shoulder, he grabbed the grease-stained check and made his way to the register. That was when he noticed it — the lonely, half-eaten omelette on the bar.

“Alright that’ll be ten seventy-five,” chimed Sheri.

Tinsel glittered on the tree. Red, metallic bulbs swayed in the echo of his footsteps. Judy Garland caroled on about a merry little Christmas and he wondered if your characters would ever enjoy anything over their shared kitchen table or if that dream would be abandoned for their duties as well.

“Sir?”

Snapping out of his trance, he fished for his wallet and palmed her a twenty. “Keep the change,” he muttered before turning toward the door with a hoist of his backpack.

Her jaw hung open. “Oh my word, are you serious?” she called to his back, but the bell above the door was the only answer she received.

______

Main Street Vinyls was a ghost town on a Thursday afternoon, and Eddie preferred it that way. Aside from Jerry at the counter, it was just him and his noisy thoughts, accompanied by the slow plod of his own heavy boots as they weeped against the carpet. At least in this store he could escape the onslaught of Christmas tunes. Jerry—old hippie that he was—at least had some sense. Sometimes even sense enough to play some halfway decent rock music, but today Eddie would settle for Neil Young over the jingle bell garbage blasting through every speaker in Hawkins.

Glancing down the rows of plastic cassette spines, Eddie perused the M section as he kicked himself for giving away almost ten dollars. There was an album by a new band he’d only read about in magazines called Megadeth. Turning the tape over in his hands, he examined the cover. Everything about it spoke to him — the skull with its mouth chained shut surrounded by knives and candles, the title — Killing Is My Business. Flipping it over to the back, the phrase continued in haunted red letters …and Business Is Good!

The change he gave away in a fit of blind stupidity would have easily afforded it and left him with some to spare. With a bitter sigh, he shoved the tape back in its slot, knowing for a fact that the cash register at Benny’s had eaten the last bill he had in his wallet. Padding slowly down the aisle, he began his calculations.

He had a few regular deals lined up this weekend but would need to dig into his “savings” in the bottom of an old tobacco tin and pay Rick a visit before any of that happened. He might make eighty bucks if he was lucky. Maybe eighty more over the course of the week between the deals at school. Nobody wanted to spend too much time outside this time of year, so the park bench location was always iffy depending on how bad it was. He would resort to other classic meetup spots, like under the bleachers or the back of his van.

If he networked enough he might have some left over after helping Wayne with the bills. Scanning past the Tina Turner and T-Rex tapes, he wondered how much Wayne suspected about his little business. Surely he had to have some suspicion. Gig money, odd jobs, and oil changes for neighbors couldn’t possibly afford the kind of gear he had, or the ink in his skin, or the cash he contributed monthly. Wayne was sharp, and though he was no saint himself, he shuddered to think what he would say if he discovered his nephew was straying down the same path his brother took.

Peering back over his shoulder, he eyed the Megadeth tapes again—only three in stock—lined up like gifts wrapped in cellophane. They were such tiny things. Small enough to hide beneath his palm, to slide into the pocket of his coat with room to spare. Glancing up at the angled surveillance mirror in the corner of the store, he saw Jerry at the counter, humming obliviously as he stuck price tags on a fresh shipment of tapes. Over the tall shelf that separated them, he expected to meet his own eyes, but instead saw another man. A man he hadn’t seen in quite a while.

Eddie remembered finding a G chord for the first time; how big the fretboard felt in his small hand, how awkwardly his fingers had to stretch, how a larger set of hands had helped him find it. He earned a broad smile when the chord rang out, one he would search for again and again with every strum.

Sometimes in the late evenings as he crept past Wayne with a lunchbox full of drugs while he was watching reruns of Bonanza on the couch, Eddie would tell himself that at least he wasn’t stealing cars, or drinking himself half to death, or rotting behind county bars. At least he was still in school, something Warren Munson couldn’t say even at sixteen. At least Eddie could say he was trying.

With a bitter shake of his head, he continued down the aisle, leaving the tapes behind for the record bins that lined the walls. Mindlessly he walked his fingers over the cardboard spines, glazing past titles he’d seen a dozen times. Nothing new. Nothing different. Few things ever were in Hawkins. Every day he’d wake up and slog himself to a different type of prison, sit in a classroom for eight hours and actively feel his brain rotting. He would crumple up his failed tests and shove them in his backpack, endure the stares from kids whose parents cared enough to give them a ride to school, day after day. And every day he would come home and see the twinge of pride on Wayne’s face for the fact that he’d gone at all.

There were a few perks to sticking around, like running his club, and saving lost sheep, and seeing his friends everyday. Like having a swath of potential customers all in one place. It was safe and familiar, like a cage. His little business might be dangerous and criminal but at least it could afford him one thing he valued even more than ink or gear — freedom. Time, for another thing. Flexibility. It sure as hell beat making three dollars an hour flipping burgers or having to answer to some corporate boot-licker telling him what to do. Eddie huffed sharply, wondering what you would think if you knew. You, with your tightly buttoned blouses and endless patience. You, the very last person he wanted to disappoint.

The last look he’d seen on you destroyed him when he thought about it; the pain in your eyes and bitter line your pretty lips became. You were just about the only reason he had left to show up to class anymore, and now that was getting in the way of the one thing that actually had potential in his eyes. Way more potential than a stupid piece of paper that says, congratulations, you’re a real member of society and not a complete disappointment.

You had asked him a question back when you’d first made the arrangement to help him, one that rattled around in his brain ever since. Why did he want to graduate? If his memory served him, he’d given a relatively bullshit answer: to prove all the assholes in this god-forsaken purgatory wrong. It still held a fair amount of truth, but when he glanced up at the surveillance mirror again and saw himself this time, the real answer was abundantly clear. But was proving a point worth the risk of losing you?

The smell of cardboard and cellophane kissed his face as air puffed between each record falling forward. Each a different picture, some repeats of the same. Rock gods wielding wicked weapons, bathed in holy stage lights somewhere in New York or Los Angeles probably. Somewhere important. Sometimes at the Hideout he would close his eyes and imagine he was on one of those stages, but when he would open them as the last note rung out, it was always the same — just Bill and Drunk Sam, maybe a couple of bikers perched at the bar with their backs to him. Empty stools and sticky tables. A weak applause.

Eddie stepped back from the record bin with a heavy sigh and glanced at his watch. He’d killed about thirty minutes in this store, which meant he had at least twenty more before he could return home without triggering Wayne’s suspicious questions. The walls were starting to close in around him — posters like windows into a world far out of reach. Every million dollar strum reverberating through the speakers like a mocking reminder. With a half-hearted wave to Jerry stocking shelves, he left the store. Empty handed.

The drive down Randolph was always dismal, especially in the bleak winter light. Storefronts with yellowing signs that hadn’t changed in twenty years selling mattresses and televisions. A gas station with a rusted awning, dusted with snow. Architecturally speaking, the church was about the most interesting building, but only because it was brick and made up of more than just four flimsy walls. Even that was being generous though. The most exciting thing to happen to Hawkins since the housing development over by Factory Lane thirty years ago was the shopping mall that opened this past summer. Thrilling.

No matter where he drove within a fifty mile radius, it was all the same — a tomb where dreams went to die.

Gripping the steering wheel, he watched the car in front of him make grooves in the dirty slush, hypnotized by the spray off the sides of the tires. It wasn’t until he saw the high school approaching in his peripherals that he even looked up. It always felt good to be on the other side, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be. He could almost see you in there; brushing the chalk off your hands, shifting between your tired feet as you glanced at the clock, gazing out the window with a longing he’d seen in his own reflection — caught sometimes at night in his drivers seat window as he cruised the highway, dreaming of where it could take him.

As the squat fortress faded in his rearview mirror, he pictured you five years from now. Ten. Twenty. Wasting away in front of that chalkboard. Rattling on about stories written by dead people while your own collected dust inside a closet. While your talent withered like the dead, crumpled leaves under the snow; buried and forgotten.

With a hard right onto Prospect, he set out on the final stretch towards home. Sometimes he liked to imagine what might happen if he just kept going, just drove into the sunset and only stopped for gas. He had a vague idea from the movies and the maps that swayed in the wake of Ms. O’Donnell’s lumbering footsteps. Sometimes in the height of his boredom he would lose himself in them, imagine he was at a diner in the desert on his way to a gig with an actual sound system. Because somewhere out there—beyond the flat horizon—there were mountains, and canyons, and cities where names couldn’t follow.

______

“How does it end?” Eddie asked you on Friday between the fourth and fifth period bells. You glanced up from the stack of papers on your desk, cocking your head with narrowing eyes. “Your story,” he clarified.

“Oh.” Blinking, you sat back to ponder. “You know, I don’t think I ever fully decided. Cybelle is in a difficult position. The whole reason she set out on this adventure was to save her brother. I imagine she would want to fulfill her quest, but if she returned to Myrne, it may be difficult to leave again. Plus, she may receive some sort of punishment for leaving in the first place. I had written the laws to be quite strict, if I recall. And then if she chose not to return, her mother would lose two children. No matter what, she loses.”

Eddie furrowed his brow, shifting between his boots with a pained sigh. “I would hardly call a life with Lazarus losing. She seems happy with him.”

“Right, well, of course that would be ideal, but…” you tsked, “it’s complicated, and honestly that’s partially why I abandoned it. I really wrote myself into a corner. Well, that and student teaching started to eat up my time. Then it was finals, and moving, and then after that I met…” you trailed off with a bitter shake of your head. “Anyway, I guess life got in the way. It has a way of doing that, I’ve noticed.”

Eddie looked at you, really looked. You, in your cable knit sweater with pen on your hand and sandbags under your eyes, casting them down over your work with the same amount of hope he’d seen from players rolling threes with even fewer hit points to spare. He racked his brain for something he could offer—a dramatic death speech or a new character sheet—but you weren’t playing and he wasn’t prepared. Any words of comfort forming on the tip of his tongue were swallowed by the ringing bell, and he exited your classroom feeling the same as when he entered; unsatisfied.

______

It was starting to close in around you — the colored lights and ornaments, the mall Santas and fake green swags draping from shop windows. It was the first Christmas you’d truly spent in Hawkins since you graduated college, outside of day trips for visits. Surprisingly little had changed, the main thing being the fact that there even was a mall for Santa to post up in. Duplication must have been one of his many powers because he was still at Sears too, at least he was on Saturday when you dragged yourself out of the oppressive quiet of your apartment and into the bustling chaos.

You had no idea what to get your relatives for Christmas. You never really did, but this year it seemed insurmountable. This year you had no one to bounce ideas off of, and the constant mental chatter left little to no room for inspiration. As you scanned the shelves of cookware and appliquéd dish towels with snow men and reindeers, nothing really seemed to jump out at you.

What did jump out at you—or rather, jumped out at his sister—was a little boy across the aisle hiding in a circular rack of women’s bath robes. Pressing apart the terrycloth like curtains, he would retreat into his makeshift cave to the complete oblivion of his mother, who seemed more preoccupied with the price tags on a set of lingerie than with the whereabouts of her children.

A fantasy tugged at the corners of your mind, more sinfully indulgent than the one you had in class last week involving your desk and Eddie’s tongue. This time the set was the same as the scene before you, only the little boy had a mess of dark curls and Eddie was diving in after him. Not to scold him, but to play. You could almost see those fraying knee holes widening from contact with the carpet. Almost hear the giggles and the shushes and the click of his rings against the metal pole in the center of the rack for balance. You could almost turn around and see them popping out at you, feel the laughter ripple up through your very full belly and into the corners of your eyes as you feigned surprise to both of their delight. You could almost feel the glares from the other shoppers, the regular people eager to get on with their Saturday in peace, same as any other. It wouldn’t matter though, not in your little world.

The real mother in the real world did eventually turn around, grabbing the boy by the wrist and demanding he stay by the cart. Turning a dish towel over in your palms, you lowered your eyes to the machine-embroidered stitching of a corn cob pipe and a button nose as the fantasy disintegrated. You left the store shortly after, your cart just as empty as when you’d arrived.

On Monday it was hard to look him in the eyes. It was easier to meet Diane’s. At least this week you could hold a conversation without crumbling like Ms. Click’s half-eaten fruitcake up for grabs in the teachers lounge. But the coffee was bitter on your tongue, like a lie you were telling yourself.

In accordance with your wishes, there had been no rap of knuckles on your door frame after school, no screeching of chair legs dragged across the tile, only the dull thud of folders sliding into your bag, the surprising click of a magnet under the flap.

On Wednesday you left behind footprints in the parking lot before it had even half cleared, only to be swallowed by the emptiness of your apartment. You filled the space with what you could manage — an early dinner, and an early bedtime. Sleep seemed to be the only thing that quelled the battering ram thoughts, the scales tipping back and forth so much it made you queasy. You would lie there and dream of swirling smoke and plush lips, of arthritic fingers punching numbers on an office phone as you sat and accepted your fate. You would toss and turn, back and forth until your sheets became a tangle, and when you faced the mirror Thursday morning you barely recognized the person staring back.

When the final bell rang on Friday, the hallways cleared out like someone had yelled fire. A mass exodus of students and staff, flowing into the parking lot like a tidal wave outside your classroom window. You watched them as snow fell in clumps, as bright colored backpacks disappeared into the back of sedans, as cars peeled out like a parade into the street.

Assessing the paper mountain range framing your desk, you made an educated guess at how you would be spending your two week break. In hindsight, it might have helped to make the due date for the senior creative writing project last Friday instead, but deep down you knew you would have hardly made a dent by now.

When Ms. Click popped her head in to wish you a merry Christmas on her way down the hall, she seemed surprised to find your hand still moving across paper, not swaddled in mittens like hers. You brushed it off with something casual, the type of thing any regular person would say before the holidays. That it was too much to take home. That getting work finished now would leave more time with your family. You omitted the more personal details like how empty your apartment felt and the small, naked tree your mother brought over last weekend. This seemed to placate her, and with a cheery wave she left you in the silence of your classroom with only the ruffling of paper for company.

It was eery how quiet it was, but it afforded you a small hill of graded papers in the last hour, double what you would typically accomplish in front of the television. Thumbing through what remained of that stack, you counted each staple. Five, six, seven… you stopped when a certain name jumped out in MLA format.

Eddie Munson American Literature — 4th Period 20 December 1985

No title.

Papers fluttered to the desk as they fell from your hands, leaving only his. You held it gingerly between your fingers, as if it was alive. As if it could feel you, or rather, you could feel him through every type-written letter, through the thumb-sized grease stain in the top righthand corner. You could almost hear him too, shifting into a deep, dramatic narration.

Mount Myrne loomed on the horizon like a dark omen. Towering over the bustling docks of Torgaard, it disappeared beneath the ominous clouds with a formidable presence. Merchants scattered about, hauling their wares in heavy crates and barrels onto the many zeppelins.

This was where Lazarus first met Cybelle. In his mind’s eye he could almost see her stumbling about in her clean silk boots and glimmering gold coat. But her appearance today told a different tale. Her boots were caked with mud, her coat was splattered with muck and tattered by claws, her mask hung crooked on her face. Those large eyes that once glimmered with hope and wonder now stared off into the distance with oppressive sadness at the looming mountain.

This was where he was supposed to leave her. This was what they had agreed upon many moons ago. Cybelle just stood there, shifting back and forth between her tired feet as she dug her thumbs under the straps of her heavy knapsack that now held the rare and precious ghostfern. She finally had what she came for. Any moment now she would be moving those muddy boots toward the docks and use what little coin she had to barter a one-way trip back home.

That was the plan anyway..

Cybelle was frozen though. Fearfully, woefully, bitterly, she gazed upon her gold gleaming home in the sky with a sadness that was only dwarfed by Lazarus looking down at her. He looked at her beautiful face like it was the last time he was ever going to get the chance to. He memorized it in his mind as he shuffled his own dirty boots against the cobblestone. He didn’t have eyes for anything else. Not the zeppelins, nor the merchants, nor the mountain. Only her. After a moment that felt like an eon, Cybelle took a step forward.

“Wait.” said Lazarus. Cybelle turned around with surprise but also a hint of relief. “You don’t have to do this.”

Cybelle looked up at him with a mournful frown. “Of course I do, my brother will die if I stay here.”

Lazarus shook his head bitterly. “No, he will die if the ghostfern stays here.” he said.

Cybelle sighed as she looked out across the docks, “But how is it going to get there if I do not deliver it? No one is allowed within the city walls if they are not from Myrne.”

Lazarus furrowed his brow as he watched the merchants at work, hauling their wares aboard the large, formidable aircrafts. Suddenly he had an idea. “There are docks in Myrne, correct? And Myrnish merchants who take goods into the city?”

The gears were starting to turn in Cybelle’s head. “Yes, there are.”

“Well then, can we send the plant with like, a note or something? Some instructions and directions for the merchant to take where it needs to go?”

Cybelle thought for a moment. “I do know a few of the merchants by name. Arturo and I grew up together. He was my neighbor for a long time. He would know where it needs to go, and my mother would know what to do with it.” The brightness in Cybelle’s eyes dimmed suddenly as she had another thought. “But… I would never seen them again. My family.”

“Never say never, Cybelle.” Lazarus said. “Do you know that for a fact?”

Cybelle frowned heavily, “The laws in Myrne are very strict.”

“What if in the letter you told your family to meet you on the docks some other time? Perhaps in another moon or two once your brother has recovered?” Lazarus offered.

Cybelle sighed bitterly, “Only merchants are allowed on the docks. It is strictly prohibited. I was only able to come here because I snuck inside a crate. It was a miracle that they didn’t notice me.”

Lazarus kicked a stray pebble and huffed. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I cannot tell you what to do, Cybelle. Only you can make that choice. But what I can do, really the only thing I can do, is tell you how I feel.”

All of a sudden there was a knot in his stomach. Because if he was going to say anything he knew that this would be his last chance..

“All my life I’ve dreamed about that cottage by the sea with the garden, and the bed, and the omlet. When I saw that pendant you were wearing I knew that it would be my only shot at ever getting what I wanted. Magic tricks are….. not exactly lucrative. And actually, if I’m going to be totally honest here, I figure you should know the truth about me. The whole truth.” Lazarus sighed, swallowing the bile creeping up his throat at the mention of the truth. He was going to be honest though. Maybe for once in his whole life. “This is difficult for me to say, but I owe it to you if nothing else. I’m a thief, Cybelle.”

Lazarus winced at his own words and Cybelle’s fallen expression, but he bravely continued..

“I confess that for a moment when I first saw you I thought about stealing that pendant, but once I heard your story and saw so much of my own I simply couldn’t. There is a goodness in you that I admire, how selfless and pure your cause is. Over the course of the last few moons I have had the privilege of spending with you, I have come to discover how beautiful the woman beneath the mask truly is. How kind, and curious, and patient you are. I have been all over this land. Traveled far and wide, through forests and over mountains. I have swam in lakes and oceans and gazed out over countless valleys. But never has the world looked quite so hopeful than when I saw it through your eyes. It made me believe that if you could see the beauty there, if you could see the goodness in me, then perhaps I can as well.”

It was startling — the tear that leapt over your lash line. Violently enough to hit the page, to blur the Os in goodness.

“If you choose to stay I promise you that I will never steal another coin or pocket watch. It may leave me poor for the rest of my days but if they’re spent with you, then I would be the richest man of all. It is all that I can offer you. My honesty, and a promise that I will show you more beaches, more mountains, more of the world than you could ever imagine. And since I intend to keep my promise, here is my honesty: I love you. Regardless of what you decide.”

With a trembling hand, you turned the page only to discover there was nothing on the back. Sitting back in your seat with a ragged sigh, you stared out into your empty classroom. Your nose stung, fluorescents flaring in your tear-blurred vision. Separating the pages with your thumb, you flipped back and read it again. The last paragraph. The last two sentences. Those three type-written words. Over and over, wedging in the cracks of your armor as your sniffles echoed off the tile.

The sun was dipping below the treeline, flooding the near-empty parking lot with a wash of somber pink. The snowfall had ceased, settled into the footprints and tire tracks. Glancing up at the clock and back down at the papers, you tried to imagine lifting another, scanning over sentences and writing in the margins like you hadn’t been completely upended by the one that trembled in your grasp. You couldn’t.

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you donned your coat, as you shuffled overstuffed folders into your satchel and slung its weight over your shoulder. You swiped at them with your scratchy wool sleeve, flicking off the lights and shutting the door.

The soft pink had cooled to twilight blue when your boots met the blanket of snow, leaving tracks in the clean, fresh powder. Your breath trailed behind you in heavy clouds. It was quiet here too, barely a scattering of cars in the parking lot. Not even the wind disturbed the limbs of the orderly saplings between the curb and sidewalk, dusted with a glittering powder.

Your hands found your keys, and the key found the hole, and soon you were sliding into your frigid leather seat, tossing the weight of your satchel on the passenger’s side with a dejected thump. You sat there a moment with only your breath for company before flicking your wrist at the ignition.

Nothing.

Stomping on the break, you lurched forward with conviction this time, as if you could convince it you were serious. All it awarded you was a weak, persistent click. It’s fine, you told yourself through gritted teeth as you lunged again, snapping your wrist with a startling anger, like the seal had been cracked on a two liter pop bottle that had rolled around in the trunk for a week and a half. Still, nothing but a pathetic click. A split second thought crossed your mind—that the ferocity of your stomp might actually damage the car—but the logic was quickly snuffed out by your rage. The hard plastic key bit into your numb fingers. Over and over — stomping, twisting, cursing. Cursing yourself most of all for being stupid enough to let this continue for months. You were paying for it now.

The tears were already waiting, primed behind your eyeballs, hardly dried on your cheeks when you left out the back door. They spilled over again, cooling as they dripped past your lashes, down the slope of your nose. One more time, you begged. Just one more time and I’ll be good, I swear. But the white Chevy Nova sat unmoved, offering only a vacant whine where there should have been a roar. You tossed back in your seat and huffed, chest heaving, filling the cramped space with the furious steam of your breath.

Snowflakes glittered in the floodlights, shining like flares through the blur of your tears. It might have been beautiful on any other evening — one where the engine was warm, and your mind was clear, and your heart didn’t sink like a pit in your chest. It was hard to notice anything outside your bitter sobs, most especially the shadow that appeared in the window beside you. The rap of rings on the glass had you jumping, whipping your head to face the set of eyes you’d been avoiding most of all.

“Need some help?” Eddie offered, bracing his knees in a crouch, eyes brimming with concern.

Your stomach twisted with relief, then embarrassment, then a million other things rolled into one, sick knot. Wiping the evidence from your cheeks with a futile swipe of your sleeve, you cranked down the window with your left hand. You must have looked like an absolute basket case, jerking your arm in tight circles as the barrier lowered with the urgency of a tortoise. When where was enough space for him, Eddie braced against the top of your door and ducked his head inside.

“Hey.” The warm sigh of his greeting kissed your cheek, thawing the sting of the cold.

“Hey,” you mimicked, sounding just about as stable as you felt when it came out. “W-what are you doing here so late?”

“Hellfire,” he stated simply. “You know, I could ask you the same question.”

Despite how true it was, it still felt pathetic when the answer left your lips. “Just… trying not to take so much work home with me.” You said it as casually as you could muster, but your voice betrayed you. Your cheeks were still cooling from the remnants of your tears, framing the heat from your dripping nose.

Eddie suddenly looked very serious, splintering your armor with his softness. “You ok?”

You gestured dejectedly at nothing, offering a hollow laugh. “No.”

Eddie filled the cabin with his sigh, eyes narrowing like he wanted to lunge through the window. Instead he just thumbed at the rubber and tipped his head closer, creaking your chest plate with the weight of his gaze. “You know, I could hear you clear across the parking lot,” he joked softly. “The car—I mean. Mostly. You leave your lights on or something?”

You shook your head. “It’s been doing this for months, ever since it started getting cold. I should have taken it to get checked out, but it usually starts after a couple tries.”

“Sounds like it might be the battery, or maybe the starter. I won’t know unless I try and jump it. I’ll swing around—if—if that’s ok.”

The wind ushered a curl toward his lips, and you clenched your hand to subdue it. “Yeah, it’s ok,” you sighed. “Thank you.”

With a nod, Eddie ducked out of the window and pivoted swiftly on his heels. From your side view mirror, you watched him make tracks in the blue snow with his heavy boots, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced left and right, the ghost of his breath trailing closely behind. The seat creaked as you sat back and blinked like the cursor on a computer monitor; processing. One glance in your rearview mirror told you how disheveled you looked. Even in the twilight there was no masking the puffiness around your eyes, the mascara bleeding toward your cheeks. You swiped at them again, this time with a napkin from your glove box.

With a yank of the frigid handle, Eddie slid across the plaid and pleather padding into the drivers seat of his van. He froze for a second, glancing in his rearview mirror toward your small white sedan. Butterflies tore through his stomach, churning like a tornado as he flicked the ignition. Out of all his ridiculous fantasies, he hadn’t entertained this one. Not exactly anyway. One where you were the damsel in distress. One where he got to be the hero.

The parking lot was vacant enough to drive across the lines. Ploughing through the naked patches where cars had spent the afternoon, he rumbled up beside you. Your stomach did a summersault when he stepped out, plodding around to the front of your car with jumper cables slung under his arm.

“Can you pop the hood for me?” he asked.

The summersault rippled south through your abdomen. Reaching down under the console, your fingers found the leaver and obeyed. You felt kind of useless, just sitting there while he propped the hood onto the stand, shielding him from vision. Before you could form another thought, your hand was moving on its own, finding the plastic leaver of your door and opening it to the cold evening air.

Eddie gave a shy look from behind his curtain of curls before stepping back with a nod. “Well, good news, there’s no monsters,” he joked.

A smile cracked across your face, so genuine it almost felt foreign. You tucked your hands into your pockets, stepping closer to assess the engine like you knew what you were looking at. Your aura prickled with proximity, like his heat could thaw you even from where you stood. Eddie’s glance was soft and quick before procuring a small flashlight from his inner coat pocket. He held it in his teeth, flipping up the red and black plastic covers on the battery terminals.

“I have hands too, you know,” you said with a smirk.

With a playful side-eye, he clamped the appropriate cables onto the terminals. Removing the silver torch from his mouth, he made room for his retort. “Mmhm, best keep ‘em warm. It’s uh, kinda chilly out.”

You shook your head as a laugh escaped your nostrils in a plume. Sauntering over to his van like a dark knight, Eddie leaned in the door to pop his own hood. Your boots made tentative tracks in the snow, drawn like a magnet as he hoisted the metal. From the light pinched in his teeth you could see the expanse of the massive engine, the shadow of his furrowed brow as he unscrewed plastic knobs. What you saw more than anything though—like a filter laid over the scene—were three type-written letters. The hands that typed them fumbled with the cables, squeezed around the thick, jaw-like clamps. When they bit right where he wanted, they released; tendons flexing, knuckles pinking from the freezing air. Reflexively, he wiped them on the chest of his black hoodie peeking out from his open coat.

It might have just been the cold, but even in the twilight—in the absence of the flashlight he was tucking into his pocket—you could have sworn his cheeks flushed when he caught you staring. “Alright, um, go ahead and start your car. I’ll do the same.”

Following the tether that joined the two vehicles, you did as he told you. Nothing came of it though, just more incessant clicking. Exasperated, you tossed back in your seat before slumping out of the car once more.

“Shit, it must be the starter. Probably cracked, that’s my guess anyway by the sound of it,” Eddie explained as he stepped around to face your engine again. Clicking his flashlight, he peered into the compartment. “See, if you follow the positive terminal line all the way down, that’s where the starter will be. Only problem is it’s tricky to get to without a lift.”

You followed his grease-stained finger down the dirt-dusted tangle of tubes, drawing nearer under the subtle guise of interest in your engine. You stopped just inches from his solid leather frame, close enough to brush him with your elbow. “You seem to know your way around a car.”

He huffed, shaking his head as he muttered. “Wish I didn’t.” But before you could comment, he was shutting the hood. “I’m sorry, but I think we’re gonna have to call a tow truck.”

Your defeated sigh rose toward the clouds as you glanced at the squat school building. The lights were off. Judy’s car was absent from the lot, as were all but a handful, including the two of yours. Glancing at your watch under the floodlights, the big hand tipped past the golden dot where a five should be.

Eddie stepped closer, filling the gap with a heavy exhale before meeting your eyes. “You know I could, um—” he scratched the back of his neck, words evaporating quicker than his breath. What could he do? What could he really do about any of this? For most of his life he’d been a leaf on the wind, scuttling across the pavement toward the gutter, struggling to steer himself away. But you were stranded, and if there was anything he was good for, it was a ride. “I could—I could take you back to your place. If you’re ok with that, I mean. We could—fuck—I mean you could call from there a-and I could—”

There were chinks in your armor, cracking with each bumbling word. You looked at him, really looked. Eddie Munson, with grease-stained hands and eyes that pierced like arrows in their pleading. Straight through to the softest part of you, the place between your ribs that cries I want. And oh, how desperately you wanted. Wanted to soothe his worried lips in yours again, to feel his pounding chest again, to be thawed by his heat again. But you just stood there, frozen.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his open coat, he shifted on the balls of his feet as he searched for more words in the snow. “Look, I know you said you wanted space, a-and it probably seems like—shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing with a sharp sigh. “I just want to help you. Will you just let me help you? Please?”

Your chest plate clattered to the concrete, gauntlets falling in a heap beside your greaves. There was no white flag to wave. No sword to relinquish, or shield to discard. Your surrender was nothing but a soft “okay,” barely heard above the howling wind.

______

A/N: After over a year and 100k words, the smut chapter is finally upon us! Thank you for coming with me on this very long journey and sticking it out. I have no idea how long this next one is going to take me to write, but I can promise you that when it’s finished you will experience every moment in exquisite, delicious, poetic detail.

You might have noticed that I’ve pulled a few small details like character names and places from Flight of Icarus, but I will not be retconning any of Eddie’s backstory.

Also random, tumblr decided to make that one paragraph bold once I changed it to chat font with no ability to unbold it, but that wasn't intended. It kind of worked though so I'm not mad.

Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @raccoonboywrites @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me #dssctm

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cinnamon-girl-writes · 7 days

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dinner dates ! jjk x reader series pt .1

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

featuring: yuuji, gojo, megumi, inumaki

yuuji itadori:

yuuji would defintely take you to a hibachi grill

you’re wearing a baby pink sundress with cherry blossoms on it and he’s wearing a white button down shirt and black slacks cause he wanted to dress up for his girl !!

he thinks it’s really cool how they cook the food in front of you and he likes the entertainment

definetly orders a bunch of other dishes for you guys to share (boy where tf are you getting that money from???)

actually. he saved up all his money so he can take you out for a really nice dinner 🥺 he loves you so much and he just wants you to feel special and beautiful

he orders pork gyoza and tempura shrimp for you guys to share 😈

if it’s your birthday yuuji would ABSOLUTELY tell the cook and have the restaurant sing you happy birthday

then he records it and posts it on his instagram story because he’s just so proud of his girl 💗

if the restaurant has a koi pond he will absolutely LOVE it

afterwards 90% of his camera roll will be pictures of the fish (the other 10% is you)

would be like ‘babe they’re so pretty 😚’ and y’all would spend like twenty minutes just looking at the fish

not that you mind because you love to see your sunshine boy happy and you like the fish too

he would definetly toss coins in the pond with you and be like ‘babe let’s make a wish to be together forever at the same time 🥰’

you would do it of course and he would be over the moon

makes you pose by the fountain and takes pictures of you because his girl is just so pretty, how could he not?? :)

afterwards you guys go get dessert at a cute lil cafe and he gushes about how much he loves you <333

gojo satoru:

you know this man would take you to the most fancy expensive restaurant just because he can

he forgot to tell you so one night at six thirty he’s just like get ready 😏 and you’re like wtf

he orders a taxi (read: nanami) because he can’t drive :/

when you get there there he tells the waiter the name and y’all go sit down at a private table in the back of the restaurant with a really pretty view of the city

the waiter brings out a bottle of red wine and pours it for you while you and satoru chat

when i tell you that he orders so much sushi-

the waiters have brought out a platter of (probably) every type of sushi that the restaurant serves

also his favorite type of sushi roll is shrimp tempura roll I don’t make the rules

he sees a plate of onigiri in front of him and he’s like ‘aww inumaki 🥺’

please he loves his students so much it’s so sweet

you both eat a bunch of it until you’re feeling super full

then he’s like ‘okay babe what do you want to order??’

and you’re like 🙂what

he’s like ‘baby that was just the hors d'oeuvres 😣’

he makes you order a main dish because ‘it’s okay you’ll be hungry again 😙’

you order some miso ramen and he gets a steak

it’s actually really food and you’re glad you had werem’t too full for it

satoru definetly feeds you some of his food from across the table

afterwards, the two of you walk around the streets for a little bit and get some matcha ice cream to finish the night off ✨

megumi fushiguro:

i think that, instead of a restaurant, megumi takes you around the city for street food because you’ve never really explored the city before

it’s absolutely lovely; the weather is nice, it’s not too busy, and it distracts the two of you from being jujutsu sorcerers

you find a street vendor that sells korokke so that’s what you eat first

you see a souvenir shop down the street, so you decide to go in there and get some cute little gifts for your friends 😌

megumi finds a silly pair of tourist sunglasses that he thinks itadori will like and you get nobara a blue scarf decorated with little animals

as you exit the shop, you start to feel hungry again so the two of you decide on yakisoba and it’s delicious 😈

the two of you walk for a while together, hand in hand until you see a stand that sells mochi

you insist to megumi that you have to bring some back for gojo: ‘come on megs, he would love it! especially from you’ ‘he can buy his own food 🙄‘

of course you eventually convince him and gojo loved the sentiment (and the food)

you guys end the night back in his room, cuddling and watching a movie 💜

toge inumaki:

okay so inumaki totally takes you to one of those cute animal restaurants

i’m gonna go with he takes you to a pig cafe <3 and omg they’re so adorable!!

he bought you guys matching hoodies when you started dating so y’all are wearing those 🥺

also i headcanon that inumaki has a really cute instagram that he keeps up with so of course he’d take you to a spot where he could take lots of pictures of his girl <3 and baby pigs ofc

you guys order ramen and sushi and the food is really good! :)

the restaurant has a huge glass wall so you get a really pretty view of the mountains

the vibe in the restaurant is also really nice, there’s chill ambient music playing in the background which reminds you of him 🥺

he thinks you look so cute (and you do ofc)

he can’t really talk about it with you because of his technique so he has his notes app open to type you messages 🥺

he gives you so many forehead and palm kisses so that he makes sure you know how much he loves you 🥺 poor boy it absolutely whipped for you

speaking of being whipped, he also tediously makes sure you’ve eaten enough and that you’re liking our food

he’ll 100% share his food with you either way, he loves the feeling that he’s taking care of you

afterwards you guys go get boba tea before you go back to jujutsu high and he walks you back to your room to kiss you goodnight 🥺

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #yuuji x reader #Yuji x reader #yuji itadori #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #inumaki jjk #inumaki x reader #gojo jjk #jjk gojo #itadori jjk

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a-casual-kpopfan · 28 days

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Love Is... - Choi Yena

Damn, who thought I would come back to writing?

My first fic of 2024, I may be a few months late, but I hope you enjoy!

-----

The sound of the jingle from the front door plays through the speaker, the warm air hits you as you pass through the doors. You take a sigh of relief as you were able to get out of the cold while it was snowing outside.

It’s February, winter is in full swing, snowfall has become the regular in this region. And worst of all, it’s become couples’ season. You weren’t known much as a bitter person, but with all the hearts and couple promotions just brings an ick to your own heart. You were not against people in relationships, you yourself are not searching for a partner to even be with, but just the promotion of love just brings an extra level of bitterness out of you.

Not feeling to cook tonight, your goal tonight was to enjoy a nice and cheap bowl of ramen.

After all, the only thing that can make you happy is food.

You browse around the different flavours and seasonings of the instant ramen selections but then you end up with you usual and most generic pack, a pack of spicy ramen, shortly after you walk over to the cold foods section to add as your sides. Today, you felt adventurous, no one is around to ruin your mood.

Your goal in the cold section is to find a set of your favourite soy marinaded eggs. And there before your eyes, only one pack of two eggs are left on the shelf. “They must be low on stock.” Speaking to yourself as your hands grab the pack before anyone else can take it, on the way to the counter you decided to grab a cool oolong tea as well.

Before paying, you noticed a short individual walk into the store, wearing shorts and an odd white sweater with pink accents. “A little odd to be wearing shorts in winter.” You spoke a little too loudly to be saying it to yourself, the person took their hood off and gave you a little glare, although your attention was not about her hearing you.

Long strands of pink hair flow out in the wind, she almost looks like someone written out of a manga, an anime character you used to watch on Saturday mornings. “A little rude to stare.” The woman scoffed then walked by you. A little shocked but not surprised with her attitude, it’s not anything new to you.

“YAH, WHERE’S THE MARINATED EGGS?”

The person in the white and pink sweater made her way back to the front of the store and you’re now staring eyes with a pink haired bull. “YOU!” Pointing her finger straight at you, stomping hard towards you. Her other hand balled up into a fist, you swear her eyes have been lit on fire from the inside of her skull.

You look over to the employee at the counter and they seem just as confused as you are.

“Those.” She points to the pack of the marinated eggs. “I’m taking those.” Great, just another thing to add to your already over the limit bitterness due to this season. “How about no?” You put your hand up in front of her finger pointing at the pack and push it away. “I will pay for your dinner if you just let me have those eggs.” You look her straight in the eye, she’s dead serious with that statement.

“Jinja?” “Mm.” “Jinja?” “Mm.” “Jinja?”

“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT?!” If this was an anime, you would picture this pink haired girl to light flames out of her head, ready to kill just for a pack of factory boiled eggs, marinated in a soy sauce mixture, who knows what other additives that could’ve been added to this.

All this for eggs.

“Nah, I think I’ll pass.” You said with a straight face, didn’t hesitate knowing you just destroyed the spirit of this young woman. She starts growling slightly her hands are in fists, looking like she’s shaking because she’s trying to prevent herself from punching you, but instead she started tearing up and squatted down, hugging her legs. “But… I really wanted those eggs…” She was whimpering, not something you saw coming.

“Shit.” You look over at the clerk again, all they could do is shrug, giving you a look that says, ‘it’s your mess, not mine.’ You scratched your head in frustration and gave in. “Look, I will split this pack with you if you stop crying.” The girl’s eyes point up to you, the waterworks are really going with this one. Not convinced of your off, she continued moping on the floor. You were left with no choice.

“Ugh and I’ll pay for your dinner.”

“Jinja?” “Yes.” “Jinga?” “Yes.” “Jinga?”

What is this girl doing to you?

You take a deep breath before nodding again.

A pack of instant ramen, a cold green tea and a couple onigiris later, you and this pink haired woman take a seat a table together, considering the circumstances, you found it appropriate to at least sit with this person.

“Thank you for the meal!” The woman clapped her hands together as in a praying motion before digging in the ramen that you ended up paying for.

“Choi Yena.” Confused from what she said, you question her.” I’m sorry, what was that?” Yena picks up the disposable chopsticks, breaking them apart before repeating herself. “Choi Yena, I figured you should know my name for buying me dinner.” Surprised but you told her your name before you did the same with your chopsticks.

Most of the night was silent other than the slurp here and there, the door opening for the occasional night owl popping for a snack. You had just met this Choi Yena about a half hour ago, having a midnight dinner with her, and had a fight with her for boiled eggs.

Not that weird, right?

~~~~~

A couple nights later, you find yourself in the same spot. Going through the doors of the same convenience store, grabbing another pack of instant ramen. Once again, you’re in the cold foods section looking for the same set of marinated eggs that you enjoy so much, but to your displeasure, there’s none on the shelf.

“Damn, must be still out from last time.” Disappointed, you turned to see a familiar pink haired woman. “Well, hello stranger.” Yena there, smiling at you. She’s holding a shopping basket with her arm, and you notice she too had a pack of noodles, the same green tea drink and what seems to be the last pack of eggs.

“Choi Yena…”

“Looks like you’re having dinner again here?” Yena sticks her arm out with the basket, bringing it closer to you. “Let me pay you back, put it in here.” Yena points with her lips, gesturing to the food and drink that’s in your hands, you smiled and just followed along. “Since you’re paying me back, I might as well grab this too.” You grab a salmon onigiri off the shelf and quickly drop it in Yena’s basket, but to Yena’s amusement she rolled her eyes in a playful manner.

“Yah, is that it or is there more?” You chuckle and you look through the rest of the shelves, carefully looking at all the food. “Hmm, what else is good here?” Yena goes and slaps your shoulder and starts walking up to the front counter. “Don’t take your time!” You followed suit, walking just behind Yena.

After paying for the items, you and Yena start getting the ramen ready to be cooked. “What brought you back here?” You ask Yena while she’s opening her soup packets, you do notice with her lips how she pouts a little hard, almost like she has a duck’s bill. “Yena?” She was so focused on her noodles that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings.

“Oh, yeah, sorry… What did you ask?” Yena looks at you with such an innocent look, you found it cute. “What brought you back here again?” Yena smiles and snickers a little while she pours her soup packet into the plastic bowl. “Coming here late at night helps me not think about my ex-boyfriend, we recently broke up and it was a little messy.” You were left speechless, not expecting an answer like that.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we barely know each other.” Yena tries to cut the awkwardness with a laugh although it didn’t last long. “I normally come here to be alone, coming here late at night with no one around brings me a certain level of peace… Until someone squashed that idea.” You look at Yena with a deadpan while gives you a quirky smile. “Oops, sorry.”

Silence has come between you two as you’re focused on putting some toppings in your ramen before pouring in the hot water, the same with Yena.

“Sometimes, it’s nice to eat with a friend.” Yena quietly speaks up, but you didn’t reply only continued with a little smile.

“Sometimes, not being alone is nice.”

~~~~~

“What’s on the menu today, Yena?”

You and Yena have been meeting at the same convenience store for several days now, it’s started to become a normal routine. You get home late from work, its nearly midnight, then you tend to run into Yena at the store. “I haven’t had tteokbokki in awhile, why not that and…”

“This!” Yena pulls a pack of precooked pork belly, ready to eat out of the microwave. “Isn’t that going to be a heavy dinner?” You questioned the choice, going with a high carb meal with a side of fatty meats. Yena went from a big smile to now a death stare towards you, annoyed with your reply, Yena answers back. “Are you trying to say something about my weight?”

You regret questioning her.

Yena goes on to the microwavable foods section to find something to add to your dinner for the night. “Then how about this?” The pink puff pulls out a bag of fish cakes, perfect side for a bowl of tteokbokki. “Let me go get the drinks while you set up the meal?” You suggested with Yena nodded happily.

Yena pays for the food before making way to the self serve area to get everything cooked so you two can have dinner. You took your time strolling to the drinks area knowing that the food would take a little bit to cook fully even though it’s just precooked frozen foods.

“Hmm, what to have tonight?”

While browsing around, you had thought about getting your usual cold green tea, but you decided to be a little adventurous tonight. You pull a strawberry milk and a mango flavoured green tea; Yena can decide which one she wants when you bring it over to her. A little smile grew on your face when picking the drink out, excited to try it, you quickly walked to the counter to pay for the drink.

Once paid for, you hear the beeping of a microwave from the other side of the store, making you think that the food was already done. Quickly taking the bottles of the counter, you walked over swiftly to see Yena placing a tray down on a table. She was placing everything on the table so carefully, the food being placed in the centre of the table.

Yena meticulously places smaller disposable platters on either side of the table, with chopsticks next to them on top of napkins. You couldn’t help but smile and chuckle on the side, your slightly snickering startles Yena, not knowing that she’s being watched. “Yah! You could’ve given me a heart attack!” Yena clenches her jaw and pretends to go for a punch with her fist.

You continued smiling like an idiot, walking up to the table bringing the drinks to the pink haired menace. “Choose one.” Presenting both drinks, she looks at each bottle, back and forth, thoroughly thinking which one to drink. “I choose this one!” Yena points at the mango flavoured tea, you nodded and put the strawberry drink on one side, then opening the mango drink for Yena.

Both of you sat down on your respective sides of the table, Yena starts picking up the tteokbokki with her chopsticks. “So how was work today?” Throughout spending more time with Yena, you found out that Yena is a professional photographer and is renting a studio nearby, which is why she comes by this convenience so often.

��Aish, the models that my clients keep hiring are so thin, they look like they never eat.” Yena continues ranting about her day, you sat there watched her eat the tteokbokki with some aggression while you were eating slowly but getting your share of the food.

“What about you, how was your day?” Yena puts down her chopsticks, leaning her elbow on the table, holding her head up with her hand. She looks at you with such interest, wanting to know how your day went. Both eyes are on you and only you, her ears are open for listening to you and only you.

You couldn’t stop the muscles in your face from forming a smile, you were happy. You were happy that someone is there to ask you about your day, someone interested to find out how you are doing.

“Damn you, Choi Yena.”

~~~~~

“I can’t believe he would just walk out! These models are becoming so sensitive with constructive feedback!” Yena screamed over the phone, you’re currently driving your way back from work and Yena decided to give you a call as she has a late photoshoot. “What did you even tell him?” You were happy to hear Yena’s voice, you were beginning to think that you wouldn’t see her tonight because of the photoshoot.

“Ahhhh, I told him that he looks bored, that he needs to put some emotion in his posing!” Yena continued with her story as you’re driving back, you just drove and listened. You loved hearing the sounds of her voice, you were never too busy for Yena, and she was never too busy for you.

“Do you still have any more shoots to do tonight, Yena?” With the intentions of getting late night dinner again with the photographer, you change lanes to make way to the convenience store instead of home. “Yeah, I still have a few more shoots to do. I’m not sure what time I would even be done.” You can hear Yena sigh. Her frustration can be felt through the sound of her voice.

Yena continued ranting until her next model arrived. “Yah, I’ll call you later. My next victim is here.” The two of you said your goodbyes and hung up, though little does the photographer know that you’re going to be stopping by tonight to greet her with her favourite late-night dinner.

Shortly you make it to the store, quickly you gathered all the normal food both you and Yena would have. You make it to the clerk and wait for him to scan everything for you to pay, “You’re not with your girlfriend tonight?” Your heart skipped a beat, you were hesitant to pull your card out of your wallet. “Eh, you really think that’s my girlfriend?”

“That pink haired photographer, yeah.” The clerk finished scanning everything, putting everything in a plastic bag for you. “You two are here together almost every night for the last three months. I always thought there was something between you two.” With that, you couldn’t stop your lips from stretching into a smile. The grin stretched from one ear to the other, you were uncontrollably happy.

With that, you paid and quickly drove over to the studio without Yena knowing you would be there tonight. You park your car in the respective spot, not too far away from the entrance but close enough so you won’t be too cold from the weather. You pull your phone out to call Yena before entering the studio.

“Choi Yena, are you still doing the shoot?” Clearly, you’re playing stupid as you slowly walk through the main building’s door. You can see flashes of light emerge from the hallway, faint sounds of music playing. “Yeah, I’m probably going to skip dinner tonight if I have to finish the rest of the shoot tonight.” Yena struggles to hold her phone up with her shoulder while she takes a photo.

“What if dinner is brought to you tonight?”

“Eh? What do you mean?”

You end the call, Yena is genuinely confused, disregarding that she’s in a middle of the shoot.

“Choi Yena!”

You yell the photographer’s name out getting her to turn around to see you holding up a pair of bags with food and drinks. “Yah! What are you doing here?” The pink photographer couldn’t stop herself from smiling, carefully placing the camera down on a nearby table she runs towards you with her arms opened, which ultimately ends with her hugging you.

“I didn’t want you to skip dinner, so I thought to bring it to you.”

After a few minutes, you got dinner set up with Yena but also had brought snacks for Yena’s photography crew and models.

“Thank you for the meal!” Yena was overjoyed, you were happy to see her like this. Looking around the room with everyone talking and enjoying their little break from this late shoot. You begin to eat with Yena, the tteokbokki you had bought today tasted a better than it usually did, you felt happier today than you had in the past, butterflies start take off in your stomach.

You were confused on what this feeling was, this feeling that’s being built up inside you. The way Yena eats, the way she smiles at you, the way she speaks to you.

You love it all.

Love?

You were listening to Yena ranting about how her day went up to this point, how you were the one good thing to happen tonight. You were mindlessly listening, eating, the only thought that’s going through your mind is how perfect would it be if Yena could just end the session now and go home with you.

Stuck in your daydream, a sudden sound snaps you back to reality.

The buzzing from Yena’s cell phone disturbs your dinner, it seemed important to Yena as she immediately puts her chopsticks down, asking for a minute so she can pick up the call. “Go ahead Yena.” Getting up, you watch the distance between the two of you grow, you hated this distance.

You wanted Yena to be next to you all the time, you wanted to be with Yena as much as possible.

“What is wrong with me?”

Patiently waiting for Yena to return, you could only think of what the two of you could be doing on your days off, what type of dates she would like to go on with you. Nothing goes through you mind but Yena.

“Should I confess?”

“You look like you’re in deep thought.” Yena giggles as she has appeared before you, flustered from her sudden appearance, you try to recollect yourself.

“What was the phone call about?” You try to get Yena’s attention off you for being so unaware that she had returned. “Oh, nothing… My ex-boyfriend tried to meet with me, I told him to screw off.” Something inside you had suddenly dropped, like as if your heart and other inner organs had been pulled out of you.

“The two of you still talk?” You had a sudden loss of appetite, you were now only poking at the food, not looking to consume anything at this point. “Sometimes, he still gets on my nerves quite often, he wants to get back together, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for us.” Yena takes her drink and aggressively chugs a large amount after speaking about her ex, you on the other hand sighed slightly in relief.

“I do enjoy the single life again, not having to be shackled to another person, I get to live with my freedom!” Yena jumps up on her feet and stretches her arms and legs, you couldn’t get a word out or say anything but just smile with Yena. “Anyways, I think I should get back to the shoot, I don’t want to stay here all night.”

You agreed with Yena, deciding to clean up after the two of you so you can let Yena go back to the studio floor. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Yena waits for you to get back up to give you a hug before running off to the studio.

“Damn it.”

~~~~~

“I’ll see you at our usual spot?”

The text you got from Yena earlier that evening, it’s almost essential that the two of you meet every night at the convenience or even at her studio now. It’s been almost a year of this same routine, of seeing each other majority of the week. You miss her when she’s not around, all you can think about is Yena, how is doing? What is she doing?

You try to keep your distance in respect of her, but you try to walk on a line between just being friends with her or confessing your feelings to her.

“You fool, you should just come clean, otherwise you’ll just be hurt again.” You try to motivate yourself to finally confess to the photographer Choi Yena. The little pink haired woman who happens to walk into your life, over marinated eggs of all things.

“Hey!”

“You’re here!”

“I’m so excited to tell you what happened today!”

All you can hear is her voice in your head.

All you can think about is you and Yena being together.

Today must be the day you tell her.

You pull up to the parking lot of the convenience, but you don’t see Yena’s car anywhere, she probably hasn’t arrived yet. “Great, gives me time to think.” You took a deep breath and shut off your car and stepping out.

Slowly approaching the door, you can recognize a certain someone through the windows looking around for food. Instead of a vibrant pink that you were so used to, you instead see a velvety red colouring, standing out a lot more than the usual pink.

The moment you were about to push the door open and walk in, your heart shatters in pieces.

You see a man put his arm around Yena’s shoulder, while Yena dips herself into the man’s embrace. The two can be seen talking through the window, she’s smiling towards him while the man is happy to be there with her.

“Ex-Boyfriend, huh?”

You slowly backed away from the door, you weren’t ready to face this. You didn’t want to face her in this state. There were no tears, but you felt like the world had just come crashing down on you.

What a fool you were, to think that you can find someone to be with.

“Who am I to think that I would be able to have a chance with someone like her?”

Walking back slowly to your car, getting in, and starting it, to get away from this place as soon as possible.

*Bzzz, Bzzz*

“Choi Yena”

She was calling, looking for you, but why would she want to be finding you in the first place?

You pick up the phone regardless.

“Hey! Are you close by?”

“Hey Yena! I’m sorry but I have to stay late at work tonight, I have a last-minute project to get started on right away.”

It was your first time having lied to Yena, you didn’t want to, but you needed to.

“I’ll call you when I can see you again, okay?”

“Oh, okay… I’ll see you soon then.”

The call ends abruptly after that, you dropped your phone in the passenger seat, ready to drive off home… Or wherever you can get to.

Just anywhere but here.

“I’m sorry Yena.”

Some things were just not meant to be, you and Yena just happen to be one of those things.

Love is... Isn't for everyone.

#Choi Yena #Yena #kpop fic #idol x reader

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slippinninque · 3 months

Text

✨ Pillow Time ✨

a/n: I've been inspired by the likes of @mcondance @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk and so many more of the lovely writers who has been feeding meeee wit the Fontaine thoughts! I hope you all like it!

warnings: Smut, MINORS DNI, 18+, Cursing, oral sex, cockwarming, needy!reader, softdomvibes!fontaine, long-fic

You had a very special pillow.

It was peach pink and white, made from the plushiest yarn that you found on a whim. It stayed fluffy and you could sit on it and still see the corners peek out when you're cross legged.

You often referred to it as one of your best creations. It reminded him of those cartoon pillows that would swallow anyone up if they sat in it. Ya'll had some good times with that pillow.

Fontaine called it your 'Princess Pillow'.

You were standing near him now, that pillow hugged to your body with your bright eyes peeking over the top at him. Fontaine was on the couch, rolling up and watching Coming to America.

"Feel like being good fo' me?" He asked, teasing as if he didn't know the answer. Fontaine watched you shift from one foot to the other, your smile fighting it's way onto your face as you nodded.

Nothing else for him to say. Fontaine widened his thighs and kept on rolling.

You'd toss the pillow onto the floor and shift close enough to be between his feet. He'd wait until you got comfortable, resting your cheek onto his thigh. While you rested there, Fontaine's attention returned to the TV.

Wasn't long before he felt the drawstrings being undone and sighed when your soft hands found him. He wasn't all the way hard yet, Fontaine knew that wouldn't be a problem.

Your lips suckled the head of his dick and Fontaine groaned softly at the drag of your tongue. A satisfied noise came from you and you sank down to the root of his dick. After a moment of shifting, you resettled and closed your eyes.

You swallowed around him, head bobbing as you fell into your own little world. Above you, Fontaine finished rolling his blunt and fired up. Taking a long pull while one of his hands went into your locs, scratching your scalp and rubbing the silky new growth between his fingers.

He blew the smoke up into the ceiling and murmured a few filthy praises. Pleasure was hooked to the tip of your tongue, in the patterns that grew more and more languid the more you relaxed into serving him.

You weren't in any hurry to make him cum, this part was all for you and Fontaine was just happy to be give you what you want.

When you went still, eyes glassy and slow blinking, Fontaine reached down and stroked the back of your neck.

"Gettin' what you need, baby?" He asked. Your answering mhmm vibrated right to his spine, "Mmn. That's good, pretty. Take your time, then."

You purred again and he had to take a breath to re-center. He could still remember how hesitant you were the first time you suggested this.

"I-I don't know if you think it's weird, we don't have too, I-I just really like having, um, you in my mouth?"

Fontaine would have bust on the spot had it not been for the gravity of the situation. You've been keeping this tucked to you for a long time, despite the laughing as you told him as if to soften the blow of his denial.

He kept his cool and reassured you that you could do anything with his dick that you wanted. In the meantime, Fontaine got ready so he could stay ready for you.

Fontaine absolutely made sure to keep his shit neat and trimmed for you and he switched to a soap that didn't have a strong fragrance. He looked up a few tips online to make sure he was taking good care of you and you weren't pushing yourself.

You rarely touched yourself. You prefer to rock against your pillow and often kneaded one of Fontaine's ankles as you savored him. It was the service, the act itself that brought you gratification. Knowing that you were being good to him, for him.

If left to your own devices, you would be down there for more than an hour. The record being two hours and some change as you both were immersed in the new Batman movie that finally started streaming.

He wanted to beat that record.

Presently, Fontaine's head was filled with a pleasant buzz as he smoked his blunt down to nearly half before it was put aside. On the TV, Hakeem finally touched down in New York in all of it's grimy splendor and to Semmi's dismay.

He was brought back by the quiet, kittenish noises coming from you as you nuzzled your nose into his coarse curls. It never ceased to amaze him how easily you could swallow him down. His hand went from your hair to the front of your neck this time, feeling as much as he could of how full of him you were.

"Look at you feelin' so good f'me, pretty. Can I play witchu? Hm?"

You nodded, putting your hands flat onto your thighs and relaxing into him. Fontaine rocked, ebbing and flowing his dick deeper down your throat with his eyes focused on yours. Your lashes fluttered shut with a sweet whine when he groaned, thrusting deep and flexing his dick in the velvet of your throat.

"Precious girl, right where you need to be. Doin' what you do best, look at that..."

Fontaine pulled his dick from your slick lips, pressing his first two fingers down onto your tongue. You were getting messy, spit twinkling along your face and down your throat.

He took off his tank and wiped your face with it.

You leaned into his touch and looked up at him, all floaty and tender, settled in that headspace that you were still too shy to talk about. Once your face was dry again, he leaned down to press a brief kiss to your soft lips after tossing his tank to the side.

Fontaine spent a moment rubbing and petting your face still, relishing in the pleasure of having such a vision willing to kneel for him and accept his care.

It was special, how you liked to please him. Different from anything he's ever encountered and much more than what he deserved--but Fontaine will be sure to be what you needed.

He spotted your wriggling and grinned in gold, "Still messy, baby?"

"Mmhm."

"Show me where."

Leaning back, you showed him the good-sized damp spot that darkened your pillow. All Fontaine had to do was lean in and you obediently leaned back onto your elbows, legs parting for him to look his full.

Fontaine whistled low, stroking himself at the sight of your ruined panties. He hadn't even known you bothered to wear any, but seeing your sweetie covered in the soaked cotton heated him.

In due time.

Fontaine crooked his fingers and you straightened at once, attention on where he held his dick for you. You got close enough or him to rub his dick across your face. When you opened up, your alluring tongue pink and perfect, he finally gave in. How could he not?

"Here you go, baby, take what you want 'cause once you're done--Imma do the same."

He didn't miss your shiver as you answered his words with a hard suck, making him moan and reach for the rest of his blunt.

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

END!

(or is it??? dundun duuuuun!)

a/n: Thank you for reading! I couldn't get this out of my head, lol! Tell me what you think!

taglist: @megamindsecretlair@thadelightfulone@mag1calenchantr3ss@cocoeffects@wide-nose-and-wonderful@8ttached@thadelightfulone@hobiesmain@thickeeparker@longpause-awkwardsmile@ms-angiealsina@educatorsareslutstoo@mysterychick93 @eggnox @notapradagurl7 @sageispunk @mcondance @hunnishive

(let me know if you want to be tagged!! 💕💜🌟)

#fontaine x black reader #fontaine x reader #fontaine x fem!reader #Fontaine x Fem!Reader #fontaine x black!fem!reader #they cloned tyrone #fontaine smut #they cloned tyrone smut

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hxltic · 9 months

Note

i have a request for a “strawberry/cutecore/hello kitty” girl x ghost 🤭. basically everything is pink and cute stuff <33

(this is not proofread and i didn’t know how much to write lol)

Ghost has seen his fair share of tragedies in all his years of working the military. In fact, they continuously remind him of the atrocities his own hands have created, ones that return in vivid nightmares to eat away at him in his darkest times. Dismantled bodies and the seemingly permanent blood stained on his hands that may be his, his comrades, or another brutal soldier’s haunts him, and the worst, the image of his own family.

He prays he doesn’t forget himself and get lost behind his mask, the one everyone fears and associates with the word “monster.” He prays he doesn’t forget that he’s a son and a human, Simon Riley. It’s his biggest fear.

So when you come along, all happy and young and inexperienced, it’s a cool breath of fresh fucking air. You wore a pink miniskirt that was way too short to be worn in any building, especially not outside with a gust of wind. Your white, printed top barely covered your breasts, matching the studded white belt thrown over your hips. Hell, the belt and the skirt were the same size.

You had a belly button ring with a shiny charm on it and dangly earrings, with pink platforms that were laced with pearls almost covered by shin high leg warmers. With the heels on, you were still almost a foot under him.

Your body was matured in contrast to the way you dressed, and what had him hooked when you met was how you acted.

Of course, it was in a candy store; you had a pink lemonade sucker dangling out your mouth. You watched the hunk of a man stroll in, and you could care less if it was bad to say the first thing you were attracted to was his size.

He wouldn’t sit down with his plain vanilla in a cup, but you bought yours that was filled to the brim with sweets, screaming diabetes. You sit next to him as he leaned on the wall. Your legs aren’t crossed either in the cute mint green chair, but maybe it was on purpose.

“What are you doing in here big boy?” You tease.

Ghost was already surprised by the fact you just casually sat by him with plenty other seats around, but he thought talking to him as well was absurd.

“A man can’t have a sweet-tooth?”

His low drawl was so sexy with his accent, looking down at you with a glint of playfulness in his eyes. He believed the stoic expression he usually carried would be too harsh for you.

“I just didn’t think I’d see someone like you here.”

“I was sure I’d see someone like you here,” he retorts with a chuckle. It was a heavenly sound from his throat.

Your glossy, plump lips wrap around a gummy bear, then attach your attention back to him. He was already watching silently, just waiting for a bite of the cream to slip out of your mouth. He knows you wouldn’t get up and find a napkin.

When it happens, he wasn’t as ready for it as he thought he was, a small portion of the pile of whipped cream dropping to your chin. Your manicured thumb swipes away at it and slips it into your mouth.

It was an innocent act, and Ghost almost feels bad for watching so intently.

Ever since then, he’s used his dominate nature to take care of you. Nobody would say anything to, or about you, and he made sure of it. Even when walking down boulevard.

The same way you met, you skip way too high for your clothing, almost bouncing as he walks leisurely behind you. You use the privilege of his aura.

You walk into the mall and take a peek at a luxury store. The both of you walk in and look around, more so you gawking at things until one bag takes your eye. Soon enough you’re walking out with it on your arm, Ghost’s card tucked somewhere in your bra, holding his hand and thanking him again and again.

You almost cry when you can’t stay over because he’s going out for work, but he walks you home and says he’ll make it up to you.

The bedroom called yours is covered in a pink wallpaper, small bed perfect for your size with perfectly aligned plushies that reach about half the comforter. Figurines stack your shelves. You loved Ghost’s room because it was a contrast to yours, extra modern with grey, ash walls and black sheets that he’s rarely in. You really loved his shower too.

The large man picks you up and throws you down, so you’re in a fit of giggles when your legs are being spread open and your pretty pink panties are being pushed to the side. His hunger displays as he grunts lowly.

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mewhenimanangel · 10 months

Text

spiderboy, miles morales x fem!reader

part 1! ʚɞ part 2 ʚɞ part 3 ʚɞ part 4 ʚɞ part 5

pairing: earth 1610! miles morales x reader

synopsis: you didn’t think anything of it when you bumped into miles on your first day at visions. it slowly became one of the best things to happen to you.

wc: 1.9k

warnings!: cursing

You got ready for your first day at Brooklyn Visions Academy. Your mom had decided to send you there for better "academic challenges" or whatever. You were nervous but found solace in knowing you'd already have a friend there, Zoya Hart. You’ve been friends since the third grade, absolutely inseparable.

You put on your uniform skirt and finished your makeup. New school, if you didn't make a good first impression, at least you’d look good. "Y/n hurry up! I've gotta go!" your mom called out from the kitchen. "Mommy just go! I can walk" you applied her lip gloss in the mirror. "Ah-ah, you're gonna be late. Hurry up"

You rolled your eyes spraying perfume over your body. Grabbing your backpack you shoved in your books and pencil case inside. "Wait mommy I need to fill up my water bottle" you rushed to the fridge and pressed it against the water dispenser. "Come on!" your mom yelled walking over to the door. "Wait I need my headphones!" you ran to your room to grab the earbuds sitting on the dresser, quickly scratching your cat's head "Bye Bobo" you breathed out before rushing out the door. "Baby it's school what do you need headphones for?" your mom grew irritated. "If I don't have these, I'll literally kill myself"

"Aye, I told you to stop saying that!" you both walked out the door, locking it. Getting in the passenger seat, you checked her appearance on her phone, fiddling with the nose piercing that sat on her nostril. Your blonde box braids were in two pig tails, edges laid flat. You wore a gold necklace with a pendant in the shape of a bow, you loosened the tie around your neck. "I hate this stupid ass uniform" your mom laid a smack on your thigh. "Watch your mouth!" "Ow mommy sorry!" you exclaimed rubbing your hand over your leg.

You plugged your earbuds in, listening to music until you saw the school in the distance. Your heart sped up as you took her headphones out, tucking them in her backpack. "Alright baby have a good day okay. Make me proud, I love you" your mom said giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Love you too mommy bye" you replied getting out of the car as she drove off.

You opened up your phone to Zoya's contact.

'i'm here and i'm shaking where are you??' you sent a text.

'in the principal's office'

'surprise baby i'm your tour guide :P' Zoya replied.

You felt yourself bump into another body. Looking up from your phone you saw a boy with a dazed expression on his face. The boy wore a pair of Jordan 1 bloodlines, a tiny spider-man figure on his backpack. He was about four inches taller than her and a bit lanky, his skin dark brown. His hair was a taper fade with kinky curls, his eyes were dark brown almost black shade as he stared at you.

"I'm really sorry about that" you apologized putting your hands out in front of you "Ah it's cool, no worries" he brushed off with a smile. "Um do you know where the principal's office is?" you asked looking around. "Yeah, I can show you. Are you new here?" he asked leading you down the hall to the right. "Uh-huh" "New to New York?" he asked again. "Nah my parents just thought this would be a better school". He nodded his head as they came to the front door of the main office. "It's the one on the left. I've gotta get to class though. I'm Miles by the way" he said, waiting for you to respond. "Y/n" you replied with a smile.

He walked away when you made your way to the principal. "Y/n!!" Zoya exclaimed, going to hug the girl. She had a light tan complexion, pink lips and a bright white smile. Her hair was a beautiful ginger color with her curls falling past her shoulders. Zoya was about two inches taller than you, wearing a pair of platform doc marten 8053s. Her 'Z' necklace rest on her chest along with your matching bow necklace.

"Ugh I am so glad your parents sent you here!" The man behind the desk cleared his throat, alerting the two girls of his presence. "Oh sorry, Y/n this is Mr. Hale, our principal." He reached out his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you, Ms. L/n". She smiled as she shook his hand "Nice to meet you too, sorry I'm late" "No matter, it's your first day, just don't let it be a frequent problem." he sat back down in his chair.

"Alright, here's your schedule, look over it while i pull up your file" he handed you a piece of paper with all of your classes for the day.

'English Language Arts 11' 8:30 AM

'Modern Us History' 9:34 AM

'Ceramics 1' 10:38 AM

'Algebra 2' 11:42 AM

'Lunch 2' 12:45 PM

'Physics' 1:19 PM

'Sociology' 2:27 PM

He gave you all the information she needed: locker number and code, teacher's names, grade expectations, your guidance counselor's name and office, etc "Alright, I'll have Miss Hart here show you around." he said as the two of you made your way to the door. "Have a good day and good luck settling into your new classes. It's only September, so I'm sure you haven't missed much." he bid goodbye.

You and Zoya got to your locker as you attempted to put the code in. "Right, left, right" Zoya instructed. The locker popped open and you sorted out your things. You saw Zoya look over her shoulder at her sister, Maya. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?" she asked the girl. "Yeah, but I don't wanna be" Maya replied giggling. "Heyy, n/n! I forgot you were coming here." Maya said hugging you. "I'm giving her a tour of the school" Maya said, opening her phone to take a quick selfie with you. "Oou can I come?" Maya chirped. "Youu have a class to go to." Maya rolled her eyes and left you two to start your tour.

Zoya intertwined her arm with yours as you walked through the school. She showed you the gym, the library, the cafeteria - all huge. She showed you the student council room, the dorm halls - which wasn't necessary since you wouldn't be staying there, they made their way over to a big window in the main hallway which overlooked a courtyard where she found people sitting outside and a teacher have a class.

"This place is so fancy, shit" you exclaimed. "Ahhh it's aight" Zoya joked. Anyways, let's get you to class." It was 8:45 now and Zoya knocked on the door of your first period. "Meet me at lunch, good luck" Zoya kissed your cheek and walked away. "Well class, we have a new student joining us, Miss Y/n L/n"

Your day went pretty normal, people were nice enough to you and you talked to a few people, making their acquaintance. The bell rung which meant it was time for you to go to lunch and finally see your friend again. You sent her a text asking her where she was sitting when you bumped into someone again. "Woah, gotta stop meeting like this" the boy said letting out a light laugh. "Yeah, my bad" you let out an awkward laugh. "You have lunch now too?" he asked you "Yeah, actually I'm waiting for my friend-" you was interrupted by a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, I'm starving let's go in the line" Zoya said. "Oh you know Zoya?" Miles said, dapping her up. "Yup, since third grade." "Cool well see you around, preferably not bumping into you" he joked and walked away with his friend. "How do you know Miles?" you asked her as you walked over to the lunch line. "Classes, plus he knows Peter." she replied, getting a cheeseburger and fries. "Why, do you think he's cute?" she teased . "Oh he's realll cute" you giggled.

You made your way over to a table where Peter, Maya, and a girl you didn't recognize were already sitting. "Yoo, n/n how you liking the school" Peter said, as he dap you up. "It's alright, fancy as fuck though" Zoya sat down next to Peter, giving him a kiss on the cheek, while you found a seat next to Maya. "Hey, I'm Kiona" the girl you didn't recognize spoke up. "Y/n, you're so pretty by the way" you smiled at the girl. "Aww thank you, you too"

Lunch ended as you and Peter parted ways with everyone. "Physics is brutal but Mr Johnson is chill as fuck" he informed you walking into the class. Peter took his seat as Mr Johnson spoke up "Ah, Miss L/n, nice to meet you. You can take a seat back there next to Morales" he pointed to the back of the room where Miles was sitting, already looking at you. You smiled at the boy and made your way to the back. "Hey" he whispered to you . "Hi" you replied. "Didn't know we'd have this class together. Shoulda told me" "You didn't ask" you joked, opening a notebook.

The bell rung and you got your stuff together "Hey what's your next class?" Miles asked, stacking his notebooks. "Sociology" you answered, putting papers in a folder. "Ah I don't have that" he said, disappointed. "Walk you to class?" he offered. You looked around and saw that Peter already left, so might as well. "Yeah, sure".

"This isn't going to make you late is it?" you asked him. "Nah it's in the same-". All of a sudden Miles tensed up and there was a loud booming noise coming from outside. Everyone in the hall, including you and Miles ran to nearby windows to see what was going on and here was a fire emerging from a bank down the road. You looked to your side to see that Miles wasn't there anymore. Out of nowhere, spider-man swung over to the bank stopping the guys who were trying to rob it. Everyone cheered when he brought the guys out, tied up in his webs

When school ended, Zoya and Maya came up to your locker as you were packing up to go home. "Hey n/n, you going home?" Maya asked, biting into an apple. "Yeah, it would be cool if i stayed in the dorms. Buttt that's mad money spending so nah". You gave the girls a hug and made your way out the building. "Oh Y/n, you're not staying in the dorms?" Miles asked, coming from the nurse's office with a few bandaids on his face and bandage on his arm. "No, what happened to you?" you asked pointing at his face. "Tripped down the stairs on the way to seventh period". You stifled a giggle and nodded your head. "Uh you want me to walk you home?" he offered.

You furrowed her eyebrows in confusion "You don't really have to do that.." "O-oh uh I was just offering, I'm not super busy right now and didn't want you to be alone-" You put her hand out and giggled "Okay yeah you can walk me home" He smiled and skipped down the steps to join you. "Don’t you get in trouble for leaving the dorms without permission?" you asked looking up at him. "Ah sometimes but I get my way out of it"

"So what happened earlier? You disappeared when the fire happened." you asked him, finally. "Oh I had....gotten..scared" he said, looking up. "Oh..okay. That's normal I guess" "Well this is my stop" you said, walking up to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow" he said waving goodbye "See you" you said with a smile, unlocking the door.

#NIA WRITES ࿐#across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales #spiderman #spider man: across the spider verse #miles morales 1610 #earth 1610 #miles morales x you #spider man x reader

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hotdogdynamitezzz · 1 year

Text

Your Fashion and Style Guide

Pt.1

Part 2 (Libra - Pisces) Here

Use your Rising & Venus sign!

Aries:

Prioritizes comfort but doesn't compromise for their fashion style

Absolutely rocks streetwear & athleisure

Prefers sporty fits the most!

Looks best in red & black clothing

Their style always has some sort of edge to it

Big on grunge and vintage rockband t shirts

They love combat boots and they generally prefer flame or camo print clothes

This sounds odd but they kinda remind me of a racecar aesthetic?

Very Sharp with their fashion choices

They look great in leather jackets

A bold colour paired with a neutral for a high contrast look suit them best

They love the rockstar or baddie aesthetic

Looks ~

Taurus:

They have three modes, classy bitches, edgy e-girls & bohemian botanical.

But generally, I see classy and soft the most

Green, Brown, Beige, White, Black, Pink & Red for sensuality.

They love wearing neutrals but they often mix it up with some colour now and again

They usually have some sort of special necklace

A fan of pearls because it's classic

But diamonds are their best friends too ofc

Fuzzy & Fluffy cardigans or sweaters have their heart, especially the white and brown colours

They are into floral and flannel patterns

Their favorite colour options are brown & pink or white & pink 🕊💕

They usually dress more modest but make it look high fashion

They usually like to incorporate silk or a corset into their outfit, being ruled by venus makes them into a sensual and seductive look

Generally they favour comfortable fabrics and silk

Looks ~

Gemini:

I noticed they don't really like dark colours and generally prefer brighter neutrals or colours

They like off-the-shoulder, cold shoulder, cutout tops & cool designs on their shirts whether its long sleeve or not

They choose tops based on the arm style such as balloon sleeves or cutouts

Asymmetrical styles suit them best

Colors are white, bright pinks, and green.

Earrings & Bracelets are their favorite accessories

They like a fairy aesthetic, something that feels whimsical

Likes to switch between feminine and masculine clothing frequently

Very experimental with their clothes

Looks ~

Cancer:

Either soft and girly or moody and dark!

They prefer to keep it modest unless showing off their chest

Their choice of jewelry are pearl necklaces

The shoes they tend to favour are chunky block heels & sandals

Prefers blue, pink & white or black

Soft and flowy clothes like cardigans or kimonos

Knee high socks + sweater dresses look great

They love sweetheart necklines

Into crop tops! Usually silk crops

They like to pair tight clothes with a flowy jacket! Especially if it has a pop of colour

Overall style changes depending on how they're feeling that day

Looks ~

Leo:

Everytime I looked up a Leo rising celebrity that were ALWAYS wearing sunglasses

A fan of sunhats too!

Anything bright & metallic suit them perfectly

They look lavish in silky and shiny materials

They tend to wear fur coats

They like long and sturdy coats in general!

Usually they own big statement jewelry

Everything looks shiny tbh especially their hair.

Sparkly clothes & sequins are their weakness

They could rock sundresses

They look great in animal print, specifically cheetah or leopard.

Bold fashion is their go-to

Even if they wear neutral colours they make sure the texture stands out

Jumpsuits were really popular among them! I think they like to look playful but glamorous at the same time

They will not leave the house unless they look ready for a fashion show lol

Their motive is to standout and turn heads.

Looks ~

Virgo:

Less is more for them

They like simple t-shirts with cute mottos like "be kind" or some shit that HAS to be written in small font or they won't wear it LOL

A Preppy Style & Sweater Vests are their thing

So is gingham print

They rock high-fashion looks

Fake glasses are a cute trend they look good in

A big fan of trench coats and cardigans

They prefer a business casual look

They prefer earthy tones & greens.

They are all about the simplicity in versatility! For instance they usually like black jeans and a white top but the top can be a tube top or a halter top based on what they want that day

They LOVE BLAZERS

Very picky about fashion, I find super bright colors often turn them away

Quality > Quantity for them

A lot of them look great in crop tops, or waist accentuating clothing like kim k is known for

Watches are usually a staple item they prefer

Looks ~

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coryothesub · 2 months

Text

Too Much

nsfw / mdni / sub!coryo / dom!reader

“This is too much, I can't…” Coryo exclaimed in a shaky, desperate voice. Tears running down his face, hair a complete mess, his shaky hand wrapped around his cock just before cumming hard and shooting his load all over your snow-white bedsheets.

His whole body was trembling through his orgasm as he sank down on the sheets, completely spent, broken and powerless.

You were watching him, sitting on the bed, resting your back against the pillows, your hand between your thighs lazily playing with your clit.

The sight of him falling apart for the second time in a row was incredibly arousing, and you were already moist, but not completely satisfied. You needed your release so badly therefore you had no choice but torture him some more.

“Coryo, c’mere!” you instructed.

Coryo raised his head and looked back at you, eyes glossy, you noticed that his lower lip was trembling.

“Mommy please, I can't do this anymore,” he whined.

“So you want to leave me wanting and dry?” you raised your eyebrow realizing it was time to switch on the manipulation mode. “Good boys never do that.”

“No, no, I just… It's too sensitive,” he got on his knees and crawled to the other side of the bed, settling himself between your legs. So sweet and vulnerable.

You brushed a sweaty curl off his glistening forehead, and gave him a soft kiss.

“It's okay baby, I will help you.”

You wrapped your hand around his flaccid cock and brushed your thumb over the bright pink tip. Coryo let out a sharp whimper and you noticed another tear breaking free from the corner of his eye. You leaned forward and kissed it away, salty liquid teasing your lips.

“Was it too much?” you asked, peppering Coryo’s cheeks with soft kisses.

Coryo nodded.

“Mommy's pussy will feel so warm and good around you, we just need to get you ready, okay?”

“I know you have another one in you. You're always such a good boy for me,” you hummed, pumping his cock slowly.

Coryo's icy blue eyes took in your facial expression as you looked at him with softness and affection. You felt his member growing big and hard in your hand.

“You're so good for me, angel, such a good boy, holding on so well.”

You kissed his neck harshly causing a whimper to escape his lips. You could see a pink blotch on the soft pale skin, knowing it would leave a purple mark later. You smirked to yourself. Everyone will see that he’s yours.

Coryo's head fell on your shoulder. You caressed his cheek gently and guided him further down. He peppered kisses along your collarbone, then wrapped his lips around your nipple and started sucking hungrily.

You settled yourself above his now hard cock and inserted the tip in your wet warmth, gasping sharply at the sensation.

Coryo sucked your titties humming blissfully, he looked so happy and calm. You caressed his messy hair, establishing an easy pace sliding up and down his overstimulated dick.

You threw your head back and moaned into the air as your warm, wet pussy embraced his impressive length.

Coryo's breath sped up, you could feel it warm and impetuous against your nipples, hard and sensitive from his saliva mixed with the cool air.

He looked up at your face adoringly.

“Mommy, this feels so good. Your pussy feels so good around me.”

“You're doing great, angel. Look at you, barely holding on, but still letting me fuck my cunt on your gorgeous cock. Such a good babyboy.”

You showered him with praise and put your titty back in his mouth.

He was rocking his hips up softly, mindless and happy, enjoying your warm cunt clenching around him while sucking on your titties happily. It felt so good, the euphoric feeling of arousal took over his body again although a few moments ago he thought it to be impossible.

You were so tight around him, moaning and panting, finally nearing your own release. You wrapped your arms tightly around his fragile frame, sinking your face into his hair and breathing in his sweet rosy scent as you came hard around his cock.

“Oh, Coryo!” you moaned, eyes closed in pleasure.

“Oh god, I’m gonna cum! Again…” Coryo whispered against your skin as he finally came inside you, filling you with long awaited warmth.

Still hugging him tightly you let him collapse on you, panting softly, his now soft dick still inside you. He was too exhausted to even pull it out.

He looked at you, eyes were full of tears, but his lips adorned a radiant smile.

“I did it, mommy!”

“You did good, babyboy. So good. Only you can make me feel like this.”

#coriolanus snow #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #thg #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #thg tbosas #blurb #cts post

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angelltheninth · 1 year

Note

Omg you wrote about Vash!! I need to see more of it 🙏🙏 something tells me he’s really into praise, like he’ll shower you in it but wouldn’t mind receiving it as well 😍

He would 100% be into praise, goes both ways too.

Pairing: Vash the Stampede x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, praise kink, mirror sex, cock riding, no protection, touch-starved Vash

A/N: Vash is the best cinnamon roll, wiring smut with him is fun.

"A little more and its all the way- ah!" Vash's arms locked you close to him, the metal cold around your back, contrasted with his warm palm, his warm chest, his warm lips on your neck, his hard, throbbing cock, now fully inside your pussy, "You were a little nervous but you pulled it off sweetheart, you doing so good for your first time riding me."

"Its-its because you're here Vash." You pulled back to look into his soft, sky blue eyes, his face tinted pink and legs shaking, "You make me feel good Vash, not just like this, but just with that shiny smile of yours." You gave him a passionate kiss, barely managing to escape his playful bite as you pulled away, "Of course your cock helps too. In this position, I can see all of you Vash." Not a sight many found pretty, with his scars and wounds. Slowly you ran your hand over his chest, the cool metal, the warm, sweaty flesh, "You're beautiful Vash."

Vash hickuped at your praise, feeling completely exposed and completely loved.

He pulled you back against him, his eyes catching the fast movement in the mirror behind you, his cock sliding out and then back in. "If I'm beautiful I need to find another word to describe you. You look breathtaking with my cock filling you up. I'll never tire of looking at you sweetheart. Move now, go slow, we have all the time in the world." Vash assured you after you've fully settled on his dick again. You nodded, arms gripping his shoulders and with a shaky breath raised yourself up and then rolled your hips back down with a tiny circle motion. He was too busy admiring your form in the mirror, too busy with how your pussy felt around him to notice you moving your lips down his neck. He had many marks, he'll gladly add yours to his body.

A whimper fell from your lips as you tried to keep the rhythm going, "Too much for you Vash?" Your voice shook as much as your body. You never had him in this position before, he was reaching deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot every time.

"I can handle you baby. Can you?" He surprised you by rocking his hips upwards, his balls slapping against you, his heels digging into the bed, arms falling back behind him to support himself. "Making me feel so good sweetheart. Ready for me to come inside you, my pretty girl?" You nodded furiously at him, "Turn around then, I want us both to see it."

While you turned around his cock kept pressing against your lower lips. You didn't open your eyes until you had him fully sheathed inside of you and his hands on your hips.

"Open your eyes sweetheart, look at how beautiful you look together." Vash whispered against your neck. The sight of his cock going and out of your pussy, white, creamy cum already staining his cock, your pussy, "Let's make something even more beautiful."

"Vash! Vash! Fuck, I'm coming, Vash!" You screamed before you gushed and released around him, still bouncing up and down on his cock until he followed, thrusting up at you, moaning and kissing your neck as the two of you toppled over, snuggling together, cum flowing between you as Vash's cock accidentally slipped out.

He chuckled, "Sorry, I'm making a mess. We can clean up later right?" Of course he wanted it to be later, first he wanted to hold you, to kiss you, to let you know he loves you, that you are what makes him beautiful.

#vash x reader #vash x you #vash smut #vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash the stampede smut #trigun stampede x reader #trigun stampede x you #trigun stampede smut #wolfwood x reader #trigun x reader #trigun x you #trigun smut #trigun #vash the stampede #trigun stampede

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thebearchives · 2 years

Text

breakfast in bed | CL16

PAIRING: dad!charles leclerc x mom!reader

REQUESTED: [X] yes [] no

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

SYNOPSIS: when charles is woken up by his son demanding to make you breakfast in bed, he finds it hard to say no.

WARNINGS: fluff, dad!charles, slight rbr slander from pierre lolzies

A/N: i apologize to the person who requested this bc i feel like this is so badly written, but i spent so much time just staring at this fic that i just want to get it done and other with. i loved the request so much, just wish i could have executed it better :(

as always, don't be a ghost reader!

the first thing charles thought on the morning of his first day of summer break was that someone was trying to steal his arm. the tugging on his arm was constant, whoever wanted his arm seemed to be struggling.

charles opened his eyes, blinking once, and then once again, until his vision cleared up. there–up close and personal–stood a little boy, his beautiful son, hands wrapped around his father’s bicep, a pout on his pink lips.

“papa, levez-vous,” get up, he whispered, “i’m hungry.”

charles groaned lightly, pressing his face into his pillow, “léo, c'est trop tôt” it’s too early.

his arm was shaken, hard, “but papa,” the boy whined, “you said that if we wake up before maman, we can make her breakfast in bed.”

charles sluggishly raised his head and turned it to the side. léo was right, you were still sleeping, chest raising up and down ever so softly.

any other day and charles would have been surprised to see you still asleep, but yesterday had been a busy day with you and léo making guest appearances on the paddock, and an even busier night celebrating charles’ podium once léo had gone to bed.

charles turned back to his son, the playful pout on his own lips challenged léo’s, “what about breakfast in bed for me? i won the race yesterday.”

léo huffed, hands resting on his lightning mcqueen pajama-clad hips, “papa, we had a whole fancy dinner for you. vous êtes trop gourmand!” you are so greedy!

“gourmand?” charles perched up on his elbow, blanket dropping to his lower torso. he shivered at the sudden rush of cool air, “qui t'a appris ce mot?” greedy?…who taught you that word?

“tonton pierre! he said that’s what redbull was being when they took him out of the team.” léo’s eyes were wide as he explained the context to his father.

charles shook his head in amusement, of course pierre would say that. ever since léo declared that he wanted a redbull racesuit for his birthday, pierre had been adamant about changing his mind. ‘aren’t you enraged that he likes redbull more than ferrari?’ he had asked charles once. you had laughed and elbowed charles, ‘forget rage. charles cries about it every night when léo asks for him to call max’.

and it was true. charles’ call history always contained max’s number, and max couldn’t help but anticipate every time he got a call from charles in the late hours of the day. every time he answered the facetime call, léo would appear with a big smile and a ‘tonton maxie!’.

charles hated to admit it, but his son’s closet was almost split between ferrari and redbull merch, the occasional white and blue of alpha tauri peeking out.

“can we go now?” léo’s hands were back on charles’ arm, “maman might wake up if we keep talking.”

charles sighed before nodding in agreement, “have you brushed your teeth yet?”

the boy shook his head and charles gave him a look. léo huffed, “you better not go back to bed.”

charles let out a breathy chuckle, watching léo rush out of the room. as much as he would love to go back to bed, he didn’t want to face léo’s wrath. he’d taken after you in that category, always ready to speak his mind when things didn’t go as planned.

charles quietly swung his legs over the bed and stepped out, tucking the blanket against you gently so you wouldn’t wake up from the cold. he tried to keep the noise to a minimum as he threw on a hoodie and some sweatpants.

the two leclerc boys met at the bottom of the stairs, freshly-brushed teeth and minty breaths. charles and you had decided to switch léo to minty toothpaste earlier than most other parents made the switch themselves, having caught the then four-turning-five-year-old sucking his toothpaste out of the bottle and eating it. we’ve all had those days, right?

“d’accord, mon petit chou. what should we make maman?” charles ruffled leo’s hair as he walked past him. alright, my little cabbage.

léo clapped his hands excitedly, instantly stopping with an apologetic look when charles shushed him gently, “can we make pancakes?”

charles searched the pantry, “hmm, i think we’ve got everything we need for it. sure!”

léo walked over to the side of the kitchen to grab the little step stool you and charles had bought for him.

charles had read online once that letting your kids help around in the kitchen made them smarter and helped them learn about nutrition, sending you a link and a ‘we should do this with léo’ before getting into his car and setting out for his race. that week, after charles returned, the two of you went shopping for some children-friendly appliances, excited to introduce léo to something new.

the six-year-old positioned himself right in front of the large bowl charles had set out. the older leclerc stood to the side, looming over the open utensils drawer. he pulled out two items, a spatula and a whisk, before holding them up in the air.

“léo, which one should we use?” as much as charles wanted to say he was asking this as a learning experience for his son, the monégasque was truly clueless.

léo pointed to the whisk and charles brought it over, moving on to grab the ingredients next. he handed léo the box of pancake mix, “okay, bébé, do you think you can tell me what ingredients we’re going to need?”

the boy nodded excitedly, flipping the box around and slowly reading the steps. after a few seconds, he gave up, impatient, and looked at the pictures instead, “papa, milk!”

charles faltered for a second, waiting for the next ingredient that never came, “that’s it?”

léo hummed, “yup! see, the front says just add milk! ajoutez juste du lait!” just add milk!

“alright then,” he pulled the milk out of the fridge, “whatever you say, chef léo.”

“papa,” the boy giggled, hand to his mouth to hide his smile–something he learned from you, “i’m not a chef! i don’t have my chef hat on.”

ah, the chef hat. another one of charles’ impulse buys after he saw one small enough to fit around léo’s head. he bought the same ones in larger sizes for both himself and you, and demanded that they had to cook something that night so they could wear the hats.

that same night, f1 fans went crazy over the domestic photodump charles had posted to his instagram, starting with a picture of the three of you with matching chefs hats, and ending with progress pictures of your attempt at making pizza from scratch.

charles pulled the hat out and placed it on léo’s head, grabbing another one and placing it on his own head, “okay, chef léo. shall we begin?”

“we shall!” he shook the pancake mix in excitement, handing it over to charles to open and measure.

it wasn’t long until both boys moved over to the stove, although léo had been sat on the island right across from the stove so he could watch without the risk of getting burned.

“what toppings should we use, papa?” léo was holding onto a bottle of chocolate syrup, something charles had taken out of the pantry along with honey and an array of berries.

“well, do you know what maman’s favourite fruit is?” charles flipped the pancake over.

“strawberries!” léo replaced the chocolate syrup with the bowl of chopped strawberries near him. his eyes still lingered on the chocolate syrup, “can we still put some syrup on top?”

charles chuckled, having already expected that question. when you had been pregnant with léo, your cravings always included chocolate in one for or another, and as a result, léo leclerc was obsessed with chocolate.

“of course we can, ma fève de cacao.” my cocoa bean.

the two leclercs worked like an assembly line, with charles cooking pancakes while léo decorated them with strawberries and chocolates. after yours was done, and charles had finished making his own and léo’s, charles joined the younger boy in plating and setting up the tray that they would take up to your room.

hopefully, you’d still be asleep.

right before charles could attempt his way up the stairs, léo gasped, hands placing themselves on the bottom of charles’ back, “papa! nous avons oublié le jus.” we forgot the juice!

charles stared at the already full tray, “mon amour, je ne pense pas que nous ayons de la place sur le plateau.” my love, i don’t think we have any space on the plate.

léo contemplated before smiling, “one second!”

he ran off into the pantry, a few grunts escaping his lips as he searched for whatever he was trying to find. charles was intrigued, watching his son come out of the pantry with three juice boxes.

he let out a loud laugh, “tu es très intelligent, petit chat.” you’re very smart, little cat.

léo pouted, a foot stamping against the tiled floor, “papa! i’m not un petit chat, i’m léo! a lion! un gros chat!” a big cat.

“ouais, ouais. let’s go, lion, the pancakes are getting cold.”

léo rushed out in front of charles, climbing up the stairs speedily before turning around to watch his father maneuver slowly up the same steps. when charles finally reached the top, léo opened the door and ran up to your still sleeping body.

he poked your cheek, “maman,” his voice was low, “maman, wake up.”

much like your husband, you groaned, not wanting to wake up. léo poked your nose next, giggling as you scrunched it up and batted at his hand lightly. he shook you, “maman, get up! we have a surprise!”

you blinked your eyes open, squinting at the light that peeked through the curtains, “what time is it?”

your son smiled wide, moving close enough so his face was all that you saw, “it’s breakfast time!”

“léo, inside voices,” the sound of charles’ voice caused you to flit your eyes up. there he stood, at the foot of the bed with a tray of pancakes and a soft smile on his face, “good morning, ange.”

you pulled yourself up, leaning against the headboard, “what’s this?”

you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as charles brought the tray over to you, placing it in front of you. léo hopped onto the bed, placing a juice box in front of both you and charles, leaving his in his lap.

you wiped the sleep out of your eyes, “is it like, mother’s day or something? my birthday? am i forgetting something?”

charles smiled, reaching over the plate to place a kiss on your forehead. when he leaned back, léo replaced him, also placing a kiss on your forehead. unlike his father, he also patted your head, no doubt trying to tame your monstrous bed hair.

charles looked at the two of you fondly, “nothing special. notre petit lion voulait vous faire le petit déjeuner au lit.” our little lion wanted to make you breakfast in bed.

you looked over at léo who was smiling shyly, “merci, mon petit chaton.” thank you, my little kitten.

charles smirked to himself, waiting for léo to interject and tell you that he wasn’t a little kitten, but was amazed when léo smiled and cuddled up into your side, showing you the pancake he had decorated into a smiley face for you.

charles couldn’t stop his mouth from opening in shock, “léo, how come when i called you un petit chat, you corrected me, but when maman calls you un petit chat, you don’t say anything?”

you giggled at your husband’s pout, and léo stuck his tongue out at his father, “because i’m only maman’s kitten!”

charles narrowed his eyes at you, who hid behind léo’s head, the shaking shoulders giving away your amusement.

“y/n,” he slumped over, whining, “comment peux-tu me faire ça?” how could you do this to me?

you took a deep breath, willing yourself not to laugh before looking at charles, “sorry, i don’t speak french, i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“oh, mon dieu, you are so annoying sometimes,” he snaked his hand back to the tray, “i’m not sure you deserve this anymore.”

before you could do it yourself, léo grabbed the other end off the tray and pulled it towards you.

“papa! no funny business,” his brows were furrowed and hands were back on his hips like earlier. charles bit his lip to hold back his laughter and you looked away to hide yours.

léo pointed a finger to the pancakes, “the pancakes are getting cold! we need to eat them.”

you cleared your throat, a smile still present on your lips, “you are absolutely correct, mon petit. where should we start?”

and with that, the three of you finally started eating your breakfast in bed. and though the pancakes had significantly cooled down, and were soggy from the chocolate syrup, you would easily say that it was one of the best breakfasts you had, watching your husband and child banter about who made the mess in the kitchen and who would clean it.

and even though you knew that you would end up cleaning the kitchen, nothing could ruin the happiness that filled you when you looked down at your plate and saw the small strawberry small and blueberry eyes looking back up at you.

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