#orange was one of my first wrestling loves | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Summary: With no friends and the looming threat of losing custody of his son, Eddie's the lowest he's ever been. But you know what they say: “Rock bottom just means there’s nowhere to go except up."

Warnings: angst, visits from CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's

WC: 6k

Chapter 5/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

The phone rings as Eddie wrestles Harris into his jacket. He still hasn’t figured out how to break the news about his classroom change; at this rate, he’ll be dropping him off at school before he works up the nerve. Is there any good way to tell your kid that he no longer gets to spend his days with his favorite teacher?

“Keep that on,” Eddie instructs Harris, pointing to the navy blue sweatshirt. “I’ll zip it for you in a sec.” He jogs over to the phone, answering with an irritated, “Hello?”

“Ed?” Wayne’s voice drifts from the receiver. “It’s Wayne.”

Eddie nods before remembering that Wayne can’t see him. “Y-Yeah, hey,” he says, tone softening at his uncle’s familiarity. There’s a dull ache in his chest when he thinks of how he willingly shut him out over the last month. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. Can’t complain.” Wayne clears his throat. “I’d love to see you and Harris. Whenever you get the chance.” Eddie can hear his concern, the unasked questions that dissolve on his tongue: Are you okay? Is Harris? Do I need to file that custody agreement?

He glances over at his son, who, despite Eddie’s promise, is unsuccessfully trying to thread the zipper with its teeth. He motions him over, cradling the phone to his ear and stretching the cord while he kneels to fasten the jacket. “We were actually about to head to the park if you wanted to meet us there,” he says. “This kid’s got way too much energy to keep him cooped up in the apartment. We’ll both lose our minds.”

Wayne lets out a kind chuckle. “Sounds like a Munson.” Eddie can hear the tinny jangle of his keys. “The park over on Porter Drive?”

“Yup.”

“Dad, let’s go!” Harris whines, twisting the doorknob back and forth to emphasize his impatience.

“We’ll be there in ten,” Eddie tells Wayne, catching a glimpse of the neon orange cast peeking out from under Harris’s jacket. It’s now adorned with his classmates’ names. Your signature seems to beckon Eddie, taunt him, even, and he tries to convince himself that it’s because it’s the only one that doesn’t resemble chicken scratch. “Oh, Harris broke his wrist, but he’s fine. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

“Hoo boy,” Wayne breathes. “Definitely a Munson.”

Harris spends the short drive to the park bouncing in his carseat. “Is Grampa Wayne gonna play with me?” he asks, rocking back and forth excitedly.

“Mhm,” Eddie nods, keeping his eyes trained on the road. He nervously thrums his fingers along his jean-clad thighs. What if Wayne still didn’t think he was a responsible parent? What if he took one look at Harris’s injury and raced home to call his lawyer? “But I gotta talk with him first, okay? You can play by yourself for a little while.”

Harris hums his agreement, eagerly unbuckling as soon as Eddie parks the car. He starts to run towards the field, and all Eddie can picture is him tripping and hurting himself again.

“Harris, don’t–” he starts, but he then remembers those magic words: “Walking feet, bud. Don’t want you breaking that other wrist.” He grabs the soccer ball from the trunk and kicks it in Harris’s direction.

Wayne pulls up in his truck a few moments later, almost as exuberant as his grandson. “Har-Bear!” he calls out, opening his arms wide for a hug. Harris picks up his pace, slowing down when he remembers his dad’s instructions.

“I’m using my walking feet!” he chirps proudly, and though they’re fast walking feet, Eddie beams at him.

Wayne squeezes Harris so tightly that Eddie worries he’ll inadvertently cut off his oxygen supply. When the boy starts squirming, Wayne laughs and puts him down.

“Go ahead and play,” Eddie tells his son. “Grampa Wayne and I are gonna catch up real quick.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence as the two men sit on the bench, waiting for the other to say something first. Finally, Wayne breaks through the tension.

“Missed you two,” he murmurs, not looking at Eddie. “‘S too quiet around my place without that little rugrat.”

“We missed you, too,” Eddie admits, chewing on his thumbnail. “Harris won’t stop asking for Grampa Wayne.”

Wayne preens slightly at this, shifting in his seat. “This is the longest we’ve gone without talking since…”

“I know,” Eddie cuts him off, not wanting to revisit the part of his past that Wayne’s referencing. “I, uh, started working at Rock Records,” he tells him, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It sucks, but it’s a job.”

He feels Wayne clap him on the shoulder, pulling him closer to him for a brief side hug. “I’m proud of you, Ed.” He purses his lips before asking, “and no more of the…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nope, I’m done with that. Returned the rest of what I had to Rick; told him I was out.” His gaze drops back to the ground, and he stares intently at the blades of grass as though they might disappear if he blinks. “But that might not matter anymore anyway, so…”

“The hell you talking about?” Wayne pinches his eyebrows together, adjusting his position to face his nephew.

Sighing, Eddie tells him about what happened at the hospital last week. Wayne’s eyes widen when he hears that they filed a report with CPS. “That’s some bullshit,” he mumbles, scratching at his gray beard. “Kids get hurt all the time. Can’t keep ‘em in a bubble.” He shakes his head incredulously. “They’re not gonna take him from you, okay? They’re gonna see how you provide for him, how great you are with him, and they’re gonna be sorry they wasted their time.”

“I’m not great with him,” Eddie mutters, standing up in a feeble attempt to exert some of his nervous energy. “I’m ruining his life.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “He had this teacher, and he adored her. Calls her ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’ And I was just…just a total asshole to her. I accused her of telling people about the CPS thing and said some really fucked up shit about her sick grandma and…fuck, Wayne. She had Harris transferred to another class just so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And now I have to say, ‘Hey, you know that teacher you fuckin’ loved? Well, she’s not your teacher any more, and it’s all my fault.’”

Wayne absorbs the information, contemplating what he says next. “So fix it,” he shrugs.

“It’s not that simple,” Eddie argues, plopping back down onto the bench in defeat. The wood digs into his lower back uncomfortably, so he stands up again.

“It’s not?” Wayne questions, digging a pack of Newports out of his jacket pocket and offering one to him. “Because it sounds to me like you owe this ‘Ms. Sweetheart’ an apology.”

Eddie takes a cigarette, toying with it before tucking it between his lips. It takes a few flicks of his old Bic lighter to get a spark, and he lets the nicotine calm his nerves before speaking again. “I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

“Never said she would,” Wayne counters, plucking the Bic from Eddie’s hands and bringing the flame to light his own cigarette. “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t apologize.”

Inhaling sharply, Eddie watches his son kick the ball around before letting out a slow, controlled exhale. “My boss asked if I could teach guitar lessons once or twice a week,” he says, using his empty hand to toy with the frayed holes in his jeans. “If…if you wanna, could you watch Harris? I can pay you.”

“Don’t insult me, boy,” Wayne scoffs, but a playful smile dances on his lips. “You’re not gonna pay me to watch my own grandson. Just let me know the day and time, and I’ll have a pot of mac and cheese ready to go.”

The pent-up tension dissipates from his body at Wayne’s easy agreement. An unspoken I love you floats between them, and he could cry from the sudden surge of relief.

“Daddy! Grampa!” Harris calls out from across the park. “Let’s play!”

Wayne stands up with a grunt, rolling his shoulders back to loosen them up. “You heard the man,” he jokes. “Up and at ‘em.”

It’s your first day off of work since the start of the school year, yet all you can think about are your students. Well, one particular student and his god-awful father. Eddie’s comment replays in your mind, cutting through you like the chilly mid-October air. The sting still hasn’t faded, despite it being three days since he’d said it.

You say goodbye to your grandma and Elise, her home health aid, grabbing your car keys and closing the door behind you. This morning was already overwhelming; Grandma had woken up at 5 AM, ready to start her day. The sound of her TV blasting at the highest possible volume jolted you from your sleep, and you’d spent the following twenty minutes trying to persuade her to go back to bed. Unsuccessfully, you might add.

You wince when you see your reflection in the rearview mirror. Your eyes are puffy and bloodshot, with pouches developing beneath them that only emphasize your exhaustion. You practice smiling a few times before starting the car, peeling out of the parking lot to meet Jess, Viv, and Jeff for lunch.

The pleasant aroma of burgers cooking on a grill wafts past your nose as you push open the doors to the restaurant. It isn’t too crowded when you arrive; you assume that the usual lunchtime rush is quelled by the Columbus Day holiday. Your new friends are already waiting at the table, waving you over excitedly.

“Hey,” you call out, forcing pleasantries into your otherwise flat tone. You slide into the seat next to Jess and across from Jeff. “How’s everyone been?”

“Better, now that I’m out of the first trimester,” Viv says with a small laugh. “Now that I have my appetite back, I’m definitely getting the grilled cheese.” She glances at the menu again, adding, “and a side of fries.”

Jess nods. “I think I’ll do the same.” She turns to you and her cheerful expression shifts to one of concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, just tired.” Your lackluster reply is unconvincing, but she doesn’t challenge it in front of Jeff and her sister. “Chasing after kids all day is wearing me out.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Viv exclaims, taking a sip of her water. “You’re a preschool teacher. The one with Eddie’s kid in your class!”

“Mhm,” you manage; the mere mention of Eddie’s name turns your throat into sandpaper. “Well, not any more, I guess.” Your throwaway comment is met with inquisitive stares, so you give the group a rundown of last week’s events, watching their eyes grow wide.

“He’s such a fucking douche,” Jess grumbles, resting her hand over yours. It feels like forever since you’ve experienced the simplicity of a kind gesture, and you have to swallow the emotion that comes with it.

“Seriously,” Viv agrees, looking over at Jeff. “Why were you even friends with him?”

Jeff lets out a terse chuckle and shakes his head. “Believe it or not, he actually used to be a good guy. The best, in my opinion.” Disappointment flashes across his face as he continues. “Something changed when he went to Chicago. He was always on-guard, had his walls up, but it used to be more of an ‘if you mess with me, I’ll mess with you’ attitude. But when he came back home, he was…different.”

“Different how?” Curiosity gets the best of you, and the question slips off of your tongue before you can stop it.

“It was like he was determined to hurt people before they could hurt him. No matter what I did, he never fully believed that I was on his side. I was constantly trying to prove that I wasn’t out to fuck him over.”

Viv drapes an arm over her fiancé’s shoulder. “How long did he live in Chicago, again?”

“Long enough to knock someone up,” Jeff muses, mind wandering for a moment before he brings himself back to the conversation. “About four years, I think? He left to chase his dreams of being a rockstar. Then one day, he shows back up in Hawkins with an infant, trying to act like nothing had changed.” He snorts at the very idea of it. “But it obviously did–I mean, besides the fact that he had a whole child, the rest of us had grown up, too. College, work, all that stuff.

“When he suggested getting Corroded Coffin back together, we figured, why not? It seemed like a decent way to chill out, blow off some steam at the end of the day.”

“Let me guess,” you chime in, cocking your head knowingly. “Eddie had other ideas.”

Jeff nods. “He still wanted to do the rockstar thing. And he’d always get angry at us because we didn’t. Not professionally, anyway. Kept mocking us for having 9-to-5 jobs, like it was the worst thing in the world.” He pauses, screwing up his face in contemplation. “Which, come to think of it, was weird. Because back in high school, he told me that it really messed with him, not having that stability growing up. Y’know, before Wayne took him in.”

There’s so much more you want to know, but the waiter striding over to the table to take orders brings the conversation to a natural conclusion. What you’ve gathered so far is that Eddie Munson is a many-layered man, each one more puzzling than the last. Despite your festering hurt and anger, you can’t help but hope that he untethers himself from his complicated past. If not for his sake, then for Harris’s.

“Daddy, what’s a new cents?”

Eddie’s taking the left turn onto the main road when he hears his son speaking from the back seat. “What’s new since when?” he asks, craning his head to check for oncoming traffic.

“Noooo,” Harris whines, letting out an exasperated sigh. Eddie has no clue where his new attitude came from, and he can’t say that he’s a fan. “A new cents.”

“That’s not a thing, buddy,” Eddie answers, starting to twist the radio knob.

“Yes, it is!” Harris insists, clearly growing frustrated. “Ms. Marion told Ms. Paula that I’m a ‘new cents.’”

It suddenly clicks for Eddie, and he grips the steering wheel tighter and hopes Harris doesn’t notice the edge in his voice. “You mean a nuisance?”

“That’s what I said!” Harris groans. “What does it mean?”

Eddie pushes past the question to ask one of his own. “What exactly did Ms. Marion say?” Maybe there was a misunderstanding, he reasons with himself.

But Harris’s answer only confirms his initial suspicion. “She looked at Ms. Paula and said, ‘this one’s a ‘new cents.’ An’ then she pointed to me.”

“Why the hell would she say that?” Eddie’s speaking to himself, but his son replies, still too young to grasp the concept of rhetorical questions.

“‘Cause of my shoes being untied. An’ she doesn’t like when I ask her to tie them.”

Eddie cringes. He’d meant to teach Harris how to tie his sneakers, but the lessons had to be put on hold when the kid had broken his wrist. Pausing before posing his next question, Eddie carefully selects his words. “Did…Did Ms. Sweetheart ever do that? Get mad about your shoes or call you a nuisance?”

“Nope,” Harris shakes his head. “An’ Mr. Will didn’t either.” And considering that his laces had always been tied in neat bows when Eddie arrived to pick him up, he can only assume that the two of you did this without a second thought. Jesus, why even bother to be a preschool teacher if you’re gonna bitch about tying shoes?

“So, what is it?” Harris snaps him from his thoughts.

“Huh?” Eddie’s right foot presses on the brake as he approaches a stop sign. “Oh. Um, I don’t know. Sorry, Har.” It’s the second time in as many days that he’s lied to him in order to spare his feelings. Yesterday, he’d waited until they were already in the school to tell Harris that he was picked for a super special project where he’d act as a secret agent in another class. He didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed that he’d spent all night thinking of that excuse.

“‘S’okay,” Harris shrugs, raising and dropping his legs so they bounce off the bottom of his carseat. His ankles are exposed, and Eddie realizes that he must’ve grown. Again. Which means that he needs to scrape together some money and buy him new clothes. Again. “How much more days until I get to go back to Ms. Sweetheart’s class?”

“Not sure.” Lie number three. He flicks on the radio, the sounds of Ozzy effectively distracting Harris for the remainder of the car ride.

If only it was that easy to fool himself.

A harsh knock on your classroom door and the formality of your first and last name draws your attention from the mountain of paperwork on your desk. Will left thirty minutes ago with the rest of the TAs, so you’ve been sitting alone, humming a song you’d listened to on the car ride to work.

“Yes, that’s me,” you tell the tall man standing in the doorway. His intimidating stature and sullen disposition juxtapose the orange and yellow hues of autumn-themed artwork lining the walls. “Can I help you?”

He flashes a name tag as he steps into the classroom. “My name is Andrew Smith. I’m here on behalf of Child Protective Services to speak to you regarding one of your students…” he checks his notes, “Harris Munson.”

“Oh, um,” you stumble over your words, “he’s–he’s not my student any more. Not since Tuesday of this week.”

“Right,” the social worker nods slowly, patience already running thin, “but I briefly spoke with his new teacher, and she said that she didn’t have enough information to answer the questions, and directed me to your classroom.” When you don’t respond, he gives the legal rundown about the process and your obligations as a mandated reporter. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s proceed with this, shall we?” He clicks his pen, eyes boring a hole into you as he speaks. “How well would you say you know Harris’s father, Edward Munson?”

More intimately than you know, you bitterly think. “Fairly well. He dropped Harris off and picked him up every day.”

Mr. Smith scribbles that down. “Was Edward Munson punctual? Did he drop off and pick up Harris on time?”

“Yes,” you confirm, and your mind flickers back to the very first day of school. “There was only one time he was late for pick-up, but it’s common for that to happen once in a while with any parent.”

“Right, okay. And how would you describe Harris’s disposition around his father?”

“He adores him. He’s a generally happy kid, but he lights up around his dad. Or even when he’s just talking about him.” One lunchtime conversation in particular centered around how his dad could play anything on the guitar, even “Old MacDonald.” Harris had been bursting with excitement to report that Eddie made the funniest animal sounds, and you’d be lying if you’d said your interest wasn’t piqued. “I’ve never seen Harris act nervous or scared around him.”

Pen flies across the paper, and you swear he’s writing more than you’d even said. “Besides the broken wrist, did you ever notice any injuries or abnormal bruising anywhere on Harris’s body?”

You shake your head before realizing he’s waiting for a verbal response. “Nope, never. Just the usual bruises that come with being a kid.”

Mr. Smith cocks his eyebrow, pressing his lips together. “And where were those bruises located?”

Shit. Did you say too much? Why can’t you just shut up when you’re nervous? “Knees and calves?” You point to the spots on your own body, as though the social worker needs visual aides, while silently berating your own stupidity.

“And based on your interactions with him, how would you describe Edward Munson as a father?” It’s a loaded question, and its magnitude is a weight on your chest.

“Caring, attentive, very loving,” you answer honestly. “Responsible. Harris always showed up with lunch and a snack, bathed, clean clothes, whatever supplies he needed. I never worried that Harris was unsafe or in an unhealthy environment.” You force yourself to meet Mr. Smith’s gaze when you say the next part. “We, um, actually were at the hospital at the same time. My grandma got hurt, and we bumped into them when being discharged.”

This grabs his attention. “And did Mr. Munson appear to be impaired or otherwise behaving out of sorts?” The way he looks at you could easily be mistaken for a glare. “Under the influence of any substances, perhaps?”

“Not at all.” You keep your tone firm and even.

He shoves the paperwork at you, pointing to where your signature is required. “Thank you for your time,” he says flatly, leaving the room before you have time to reply. It seems nearly impossible to go back to the task you were working on before the interruption, but you try to push away the intrusive thoughts about everything that could possibly go wrong.

An hour later, the heavy-handed knock raps on the door to the Munson’s apartment. Eddie knows the drill; unfortunately, this isn’t his first run-in with Child Protective Services. He’s double, triple, quadruple-checked that every electrical outlet is covered, the matches and lighters are far from Harris’s reach, and there’s no remaining product from his recently-abandoned dealing days. The visit is technically unannounced, but since he’s not getting many visitors these days, there are limited options of who could be at his door.

“Edward Munson?” The social worker asks, giving him the same opening spiel he gave you. “I’ll just need to take a look around your home and make sure it’s a suitable living environment for your son.”

“Of course.” Eddie hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, but he can sense the waver in his voice. “Yeah, come on in.” He opens the door a bit wider and lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, drawing unwanted attention from the social worker.

“Something the matter, Mr. Munson?”

“N-No,” Eddie insists, shaking his head. If he confesses to being nervous, this Smith guy could mistake it as an admission of guilt, and that’s the last thing he wants. “Just, um, long day?”

Smith recognizes the response with nothing more than a disbelieving glance as he makes his way through the apartment. Eddie watches silently, pushing down his anxiety with a thick swallow. His mind races when the social worker rummages through the refrigerator. Are there fruits and vegetables in there? Did I throw out that container of leftover spaghetti that overstayed its welcome? His stomach sinks when Smith marks something down in his notes but doesn’t have time to ruminate over it before Harris pokes his head out from the bedroom.

“Daddy? You gonna come back an’ play Hot Wheels with me?” His big brown eyes instantly melt Eddie’s heart, and all he wants to do is scream at the man, See? See how much my kid loves me? See how happy he is? Now, why don’t you go deal with the parents who actually deserve to lose custody and leave me to play with him.

Before Eddie can stop him, Harris traipses out and sees Smith rifling through the pantry. “Who’re you?” he asks.

“Har-Bear, this is Mr. Smith. He’s, uh, one of my friends.” Eddie scrunches his face and shakes his head defeatedly at the blatant lie, but Harris doesn’t notice.

Mr. Smith gives a short wave, neither kind nor impolite. Just one slight movement to acknowledge the boy’s presence. He’s determined to get back to his job, but Harris has other plans.

“I like your glasses.” He points to the wire-rimmed frames on the man’s face. “My Grampa Wayne is s’posed to wear glasses, but he doesn’t. Daddy says it’s ‘cause he’s a mule.”

“Stubborn as a mule, Har,” Eddie gently corrects him, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I’ll be in in a minute, okay?”

But Harris ignores his request, forging towards his dad’s friend. He lifts his arm and flashes an innocent smile. “Look at my cast! It’s from when I jumped on my bed and breaked my arm.”

“Harris!” Eddie hisses, trying to keep his cool. “Can you go play? In the room?” Pleading with him is like negotiating with a terrorist, and he knows his efforts are futile.

“Actually, I do need to take a look at Harris’s bedroom,” the social worker muses, tapping his pen against his lower lip. Eddie has to stifle a scoff at the charade that this just occurred to Smith. Like he didn’t have this mapped out, another bullet point on the list of uninformed judgments he needed to make.

“We, um, we share a room,” Eddie mumbles, as though there would be another possible reason as to why there’s a twin bed nestled into the same space as Harris’s race car bed. “I used to sleep on the couch, it’s just easier to be close to him when he has nightmares an’ stuff.” His heart races when Smith jots this down. “N-Not that he has nightmares a lot. I don’t let him watch scary movies or anything. Just normal kid stuff.”

The man nods, visibly irritated by his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut to inhibit the flow of unnecessary explanations that freely pass through his lips without a second thought.

Harris motions Smith over, using his uninjured hand to grab the stranger’s and leading him into the room. “That’s my bed,” he announces. It sounds like he’s giving a tour, and Eddie almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. “And that’s where I falled,” Harris points to the unassuming patch of carpet alongside it.

“Ouch,” Smith mutters, and Eddie swears he can see a semblance of a smile. Leave it to Harris to thaw the most hardened of hearts. “I bet that hurt.”

“Yeah, but there was no blood,” Harris says nonchalantly. “An’ I didn’t need a shot. Just this cast. All my friends signed it. Even Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Ms. Sweetheart?” Smith repeats.

“She’s my teacher. Well, she was my teacher. Now I’m a super secret spy in Ms. Marion’s class, but don’t tell anyone!”

Eddie scoops up a couple of toy cars off of the floor and hands them to Harris, determined to end the conversation before anything else can be revealed. Can you get your kid taken away for being an asshole to his teacher? He doesn’t want to find out. “Here ya go, bud. Why don’t you get the racetrack set up, and I’ll play with you as soon as Mr. Smith leaves.”

“Actually,” Smith says, “I’m about finished. Mr. Munson,” he says, his natural stoicness settling back in as he turns back to Eddie, “after completing this investigation and conducting our interviews, I’ve determined that Harris may remain in your custody. I’ll just need you to sign a few forms and I’ll be on my way.”

Eddie’s relief is palpable. He sweeps Harris into a hug, clutching him to his chest and wordlessly swears to never put him back down. “Th-thank you,” he mumbles, acutely aware of the tears leaking from his eyes. “Wait–what interviews? No one interviewed me.”

Smith nods. “Yes, we spoke with Harris’s teacher. She only had great things to say about how well you take care of him.”

She did? He barely knows the woman; Harris has only been in her class for two full days, and she never indicated any partiality towards him. He makes a mental note to thank her tomorrow at drop-off. For now, all he wants to do is treasure every moment with his boy.

Eddie doesn’t want to let Harris out of his sight, but he begrudgingly takes him to school, not wanting to add a truancy charge to his growing list of misgivings.

Ms. Marion greets both Munsons with a muted stare, harsh enough to drain Harris of the excited energy that typically buzzes through his little body. “Are we going to listen today?” she quips.

“Yes,” Harris says.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Harris’s affect is robotic and monotone, and the uncharacteristic spiritlessness nearly distracts Eddie from thanking the older woman for her interview.

“The guy–um, the social worker–he told me that you said some nice things about me. About how I am with Harris,” he stammers. “So, uh, thank you.”

Ms. Marion crosses her arms over her faded pink sweater, pursing her overlined lips. Her forehead is marred with frown lines. “That wasn’t me, Mr. Munson. I directed him to speak to Harris’s previous teacher, since she spent more time with him.”

Ms. Sweetheart.

After everything he’d said and done, you’d still vouched for him. Spoken so highly of his parenting abilities that CPS allowed him to keep custody of his son. You could’ve easily ruined his life, but you didn’t.

What Eddie doesn’t understand is why.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to; at least, not immediately. Right now, he just needs to fix this. And he knows exactly where to start.

Friday marks one week since your blowout fight with Eddie. One week since he’d caught you pathetically crying in your car because of the venom he’d spewed. One week since you’d informed him that you’d had Harris transferred to another class.

Which is why you’re confused when the boy bounds up to your classroom door, shouting, “Ms. Sweetheart! Ms. Sweetheart!”

“Hey, Harris,” you greet him, unable to mask your confusion. “What are you doing here? You’re in Ms. Marion’s class now, remember?”

Harris nods, his curls bouncing with each movement. He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud and unfastens the zipper, tongue poking from between his lips as he digs through it to brandish a cassette. “This is for you.”

You take it from him, eyes widening as you take in Toni Braxton’s face staring back at you. “Harris…where did you get this?”

“My daddy put it there and said to give it to you. So I did,” he answers with a shrug. He looks up at you, innocuous and angelic as he adds, “I miss you. I wish you could be my teacher again.”

“Me, too,” you reply before thinking. Clearing your throat, you kneel down to meet him at his height. “Thank you for my gift. It was very sweet. Go ahead and head to class now, okay? I don’t want you to be late.”

“Mmkay!” he chirps, slinging his still-opened bag over his shoulder. “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart.”

Why would Eddie buy you a tape? Why this tape, the one you’d come in for when he’d said such malicious things to you? You can’t make sense of it, regardless of how many times you try to piece together the puzzle.

At dismissal, you find yourself waiting by the door, hoping to catch Eddie before he can dash out of the school. There’s no logic to his actions: he despised you enough to weaponize your grandma’s cognitive decline, and then he gives you a gift with no further explanation.

You distractedly hand parents the sign-out sheet, barely registering when Joshua Harrington’s dad asks you about any upcoming plans for a class Halloween party.

“Is there gonna be a list of things you need? Candy or cupcakes or something?”

“Oh, uh, I’m gonna send home information about that next week,” you stumble over your words as you try not to make it obvious that your mind is elsewhere.

“Great,” he says, stretching out the word as he tracks your gaze to the spot behind him. “Everything okay?”

“Yup.” You slap a smile on your face just as you spot the mane of frizzy curls you’d been searching for. “Um, excuse me for a second.” You call out to Will, letting him know you’ll be right back, before sprinting down the hallway.

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris’s eager face twists into a frown. “You gotta use your walking feet in school. Or you could get hurt.”

Eddie moves to correct him, but you just smile sweetly. “You’re right, Harris. Thanks for reminding me.”

You allow your gaze to travel upwards, eyes locking onto Eddie’s. You can’t quite read his expression; his brows are furrowed in confusion but the flush in his face indicates that he knows why you’re here.

“Harris gave me the tape. The Toni Braxton one.” Like he’d gifted you myriad cassettes that required this distinction. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Don’t mention it.” The right corner of his lips turns up into a half-smile. “Besides, I should probably be the one thanking you.”

“Me?” What is he talking about? As far as you know, you’re the bane of his existence.

“Yeah. For, uh, what you said to that social worker guy. Even after I treated you like a piece of…” he presses his palms to Harris’s ears and lowers his voice, “shit.”

That makes sense; he was relieved that you’d sang his praises when it had mattered most. This was an expression of gratitude; nothing more and nothing less.

“You’re a good parent, even if you’re mean to me,” you say nonchalantly. “I wasn’t going to make up lies and ruin your lives out of spite.”

The statement hangs in the air, gathering an awkward silence that has you and Eddie both grappling for ways to end the conversation.

He’s the one to interject. “Well, anyway, I hope you like the tape.”

“Mhm.” It’s all you allow yourself to utter in front of Harris. A thousand questions swarm your head, threatening to spill off your tongue, the first of which is simply: why? “I’ve gotta get back. But, um, enjoy your weekend.” You pivot on your heel before Eddie can wish you the same. With the necessary chaos of your life, you can’t invest any more time trying to unravel him.

“Daddy, when is Ms. Sweetheart gonna be my teacher again?”

Eddie knew it was inevitable that Harris would ask about going back to your class, but he thought he’d bought himself more time with the spy game he’d concocted. He can’t delay the truth any longer.

“I’m sorry, buddy. I don’t think you can switch back.” There’s a pang in his heart when his son drops his hand, digging his heels into the parking lot asphalt.

“Is it because you were mean to her?”

His question catches Eddie off-guard. “Wh-What?”

“In there,” Harris points towards the school, “she said you’re mean to her.” He squints when he looks up at his father, the midday sun shining in his eyes. “Why were you mean?”

Eddie exhales, puffing out his cheeks and rubbing the back of his neck. “Sometimes grownups accidentally hurt each others’ feelings.” Or purposely, in his case, but he omits the complexities from his explanation. He reaches out to once again take Harris’s hand, but the boy pulls back.

“Ms. Sweetheart says that when we hurt someone’s feelings, we gotta say sorry. Even if it’s on accident.”

“I did,” Eddie counters, raising his brows. “I gave her the tape.”

But Harris remains unconvinced. “That’s not saying sorry. You gotta actually say it. Or else it doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t count, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue and puts his hands on his hips. “All right, I’ll say it the next time I see her.”

“And then you can be friends?” The question is posed innocently, but it rattles Eddie. Friends? Did he even know how to be a decent friend any more? He’d fucked it all up with Gareth, Jeff, and Danny, and he’s known them for forever. “Daddy?” “Uh, maybe,” Eddie replies meekly; this time, Harris grabs his hand when he offers it. “We’ll just have to see.”

taglist 1/2:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @krahk @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @theactualf0ck @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights @eggo-segual @rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @luceneraium @lolly-in-a-strange-land @dylanmunson @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @imaginexred @haylaansmi @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @stevesmunson

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

1K notes · View notes

wynnyfryd · 7 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 8

part 1 | part 7 | ao3

He finds himself on Cherry Drive by muscle memory alone. Quarter mile past Maple Street, take the third left, the second right; drive straight through the next stop sign and suddenly the Hagan house is coming into view around the bend, bathed in dim yellow light from a flickering street lamp. A 50s era ranch house, painted brick with a detached one-car garage, weeds sprouting through the crooked old stones of the front walkway and leaves scattered across the lawn in mushy browns and orange-reds.

It's not as nice as Steve's place is.

Was.

Whatever.

Steve blinks, shakes himself fully awake; feels a jolt of fear at the idea that he just drove here in some kind of fugue state because he doesn't know what he's doing here. Tommy left for college, and fuck Tommy, anyway.

He pulls up to the house. Slows the car to a crawl.

It's dark inside, all the lights turned off except for a single table lamp in the entryway window; shaped like a sea turtle, its belly full of blue-green light. Mrs. H. loves the sea.

He wonders if they're out of town or if they're just asleep.

The Hagans go to bed early, he remembers. He spent so many nights talking in a hush in Tommy's room; 8:45pm and they'd be lying side by side on the floor beside his bed, reading comic books or sports mags and whispering about nothing. Tommy'd always thank Steve for coming over because he knew his house was a little boring; he was the kid with old parents who went to bed early and kept the radio turned down and wouldn't let them have sugary snacks even on the weekends. Steve would always just knock their shoulders together and smile 'don't mention it' because he'd hang out with Tommy anywhere.

"Anywhere?" "Yeah, anywhere." "What about in a cave?" "Sure." "Under a bridge?" "Don't see why not." "In the belly of a whale?" "Now you're just being dumb." "Am not!" "Are, too." "Oh, yeah? Well- shut up!"

That was usually the part where they got in trouble for making noise, caught red-faced and laughing while they wrestled on the floor.

There's warmth in his chest at the memory, and that part, he expects.

But also...

Something about it makes heat flare in his gut, shameful and feverish as it flashes through his mind: the phantom press of Tommy above him as he pinned his shoulders down; the way the flush on his cheeks made Tommy's freckles pop; the breathless smile he gave, so close their noses almost brushed...

A light turns turns on in the Hagans' hall.

Steve hits the gas.

He drives for a long while, feeling like an asshole for burning through their precious gas money, but too— too something to fully care. He's alone on a highway with dark pastures blowing by, with the heat on and windows down, and he's circling back toward home when Bruce Springsteen starts to play, all croaky static over the spotty radio.

Born down in a dead man's town. The first kick I took was when I hit the ground.

Steve cranks it up and sings along. The song is cheesy, and he feels stupid, but he also feels free. Like there was a shackle around his throat and he didn't notice until it was gone. He shouts along to the chorus and then just shouts in general; long, guttural screams that feel like poison being purged. Tommy, his dad, the Russians, his mom. All of it, all of it spewing out of him into the cold night air.

He misses Carol suddenly. Her acidic attitude. The way it always ate through the worst of his sullen moods.

He can picture her now: perched on someone's lap in the crowded backseat, no seatbelt, manicured hand braced on the ceiling. She'd be smacking bubblegum and twirling a lock of her hair, and she'd roll her eyes at Steve's dramatics and ask whether he was done untwisting his panties yet. Steve would say something dumb and pervy in response, like, "Too busy dealing with girls' panties to focus on my own," and she'd roll her eyes harder and go, "God, you're fucking gross."

Carol's not here, though, so he just screams about her, too.

When he get back to Forest Hills his voice is hoarse. His body is tired; his soul is light. He's thinking, like: maybe he'll be okay. He'll channel his inner Claudia or Joyce and soldier on. Resilience, and all that shit.

He's almost smiling to himself when he turns into the park.

And then he sees the flashing lights.

There's an ambulance on his lot.

—

part 9

just gonna start tagging whoever commented the day before (if your settings will let me) bc i have the memory of a goldfish @a-little-unsteddie @slowandsteddie @pennyplainknits @thesuninyaface @hotluncheddie @messrs-weasley @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman @i-have-three-feelings @sirsnacksalot @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #tommy hagan #carol perkins #my writing #my fics #angst

905 notes · View notes

macfrog · 21 days

Note

what are joel, sarah, ellie, and reader doing on a typical day like today?

i had an ickle answer for you, non, but then @mrsmando sent me a tiktok and said it was scom coded, and - well. here's what my babies were up to today.

the whole world 1.8k words | series masterlist warnings: lots of sickly-sweet family love, couple teeny mentions of ellie throwing up, joel's a flirt at the end

“…beautiful blue skies all day today with highs of eighty in some parts, cooling down into the sixties as we head into the evening…”

Your skin still smells like the pool.

Chlorine, chemical summer – and the sweet spritz of sunscreen. It’s still glistening, still shiny and tacky on your arms.

The girls were bathed the second you got back inside. Sleeves rolled to your elbows; suds slipping down swollen, sun-kissed cheeks.

One hand at Ellie’s back, the other swishing water at her tummy to make her giggle. Joel knelt at your side, wrestling with Sarah over a soaked sponge the entire time.

He kept wringing it over her head, cracking up at the look on her face – water dripping from the tip of her nose and her pouted bottom lip.

Mama, she announced – with a twang even sweeter than her dad’s – I ain’t talkin’ to Daddy no more.

You scoffed, nudging a rubber duck along the water to Ellie’s open hands. I’ll believe that when I see it, Duck.

As the water drained from the tub, Sarah let Joel bundle her in a towel and follow her – a trail of damp footprints along the hall carpet – into her bedroom to grab her pajamas.

Lasted long, didn’t it? you muttered to Ellie, swaddling her in a dino bathrobe.

It’s May. Everything is alive and bursting with color. The birds and the bugs and the static from the radio. The windchimes and the orange slices and the tickticktick of the neighbor’s kid’s bicycle, whirring past the house.

Your daughters giggle, sharing secrets through nuzzling noses and flashing toothless grins. Nearly seven and just turned one. All their mom’s beauty with their dad’s old soul, so you’ve been told.

You figure it’s just a flowery way of saying perfect. Everything about them is perfect.

Everything about this is perfect. The slow-setting sun, needling between the trees as she slips from the sky. The cool shade under the porch, the soft tinkle of ice in your glass. The scrape of the dog’s claws on the wood as she slumps down.

This life you’ve dreamt up, held together by string lights and hanging plants; made real by the trike parked over in the corner, the teething toy wetting the tablecloth.

It’s all so fucking perf–

A clatter echoes from the kitchen.

“Shit – Jesus –” Joel hisses, another crashing sound swallowing the rest.

Sarah peers up at you, eyes wide. Knees tucked under her chin, tiny in the chair beside you.

“Did you hear that?” you ask her, lifting your eyebrows. Doing your best not to break into a grin.

The corners of her mouth twitch. She looks just like you, in this light. Same cheeky smirk. You never really noticed it until you saw it on her.

“No,” she mumbles, pressing her lips into her knee. She giggles.

Your eyes thin. “Mhm.”

“Mhm,” she mimics, reaching for her Barbie.

You lean back in your chair, arms wrapping a little tighter around the toddler in your lap. “You sure you’re okay in there?” you call through the house.

Joel’s arm swats around the kitchen doorframe. “Fine,” he says. “Fine. It’s just – goddamn it – it’s fine.”

“Heard that,” Sarah says. She stares at the doll’s hair, combing it flat.

“Shh,” you whisper, hearing the creak of the floorboards.

Joel materializes on the porch, balancing three plates in his arms. A stained towel slung over his shoulder, his shirt loose and chest dappled with sweat.

“Alright,” he pants, bending to set yours down first.

Ellie twists in your arms, her green terrycloth spikes flapping as she turns. The hood slips over her eyes and you pull her free.

You grab her hands before she can slam two tiny fists into the ravioli. “Jesus, Nel,” you snort.

She pulls herself to her feet, swaying from side to side on your thighs. Watching Joel intently as he sets Sarah’s plate down, then his own.

He straightens, running the towel between his hands. “Can I sit next to Mama?” he asks his daughter.

She shakes her head. “I’m showin’ her my Barbies.”

“Can you show her them from your own chair, Duck?”

Another head shake. “How is she s’posed to see ‘em?”

His eyes flash up to yours. His expression sets like stone.

All these years, all that time you spent desperately trying to crack him. Chiseling away with tools made from jokes, from teasing. From frisbeeing his newspaper and aiming for his plant pots.

A little smile; a quiet, “How am I s’posed to see ‘em, Joel?” – and you melt him instantly.

He breathes a laugh, shaking his head as he wanders around the table. This huge, broad man, squeezing into the space by the windowsill. Dotted with toy animals and scattered miniature accessories.

He pulls the chair out and settles back into it.

You nudge his calf beneath the table.

Joel’s hands find your knees, slipping around them. He pulls your ankles into his lap, thumb trailing circles on your skin, and picks up his fork.

“Alright, Duckie,” you elbow her gently, “Barbies down. Look what Daddy made us.”

She fixes the pink pumps back onto the doll’s feet, straightens her spacesuit, and sits her carefully on the edge of the table.

Ellie blows a raspberry and collapses again into your lap. She yawns, turning to snuggle into your chest.

“You wanna try a little?” you whisper, blowing on a piece of ravioli.

She steals it from your fork and suckles on it. Her long lashes blink slower and slower until her eyes are closed, full cheeks still chewing.

Joel scoffs. “That’s her mom. Right there, that’s all you.”

“Fallin’ asleep with food in her mouth?” you chuckle, kissing her head. “Glad I’m leavin’ some legacy.”

“Uhuh,” he replies, tongue in his cheek. His eyes flash golden when they meet yours, brighter than the sun.

Ellie’s warm under your cheek; her skin still as soft and plushy as the day you met her. She quietens, stills as she drifts off. She’s solid in your arms – sturdier than her sister ever was at her age.

Or, as her uncle Tommy said, the first time he held her: She weighs a goddamn ton, don’t she?

She weighs nothing to you. Your arms were made for cradling her. Hips were designed to hold her. She’s the perfect size to fit in the crook of her dad’s arm. Her favorite game is being tossed in the air by him until she throws up.

“Ah-ah, Duck. Not right now,” Joel says, shaking his head. “Wait ‘til we’re done, or she’ll just beg.”

Sarah huffs, lifting her fork from the dog’s mouth. “Sorry, Shim.”

The shepherd trots around to Joel’s side, settling her chin on his thigh. She breathes a pleading sigh.

“I know, girl,” he ruffles her ears, “I ain’t fair to ya, am I?”

She falls to a heap under the table, and spends the meal pouncing at scraps Sarah accidentally drops.

The sky drains, the world darkening until you’re lit in shades of orange and gold; the candles flickering and stretching funny shadows across the porch ceiling.

Joel bribes Sarah with staying up later, so long as she helps him clear the table. She babbles away as they fill the sink with dishes; follows at his heels and catches him up on the politics of second grade.

He leans down to take Ellie – sound asleep and snoring – from you.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he says, and kisses you. “C’mon, Duckie,” he groans as she climbs into his other arm. “Bedtime.”

Upstairs, you split off into the girls’ rooms. Shimmer follows you into Sarah’s, curling up at her feet in a nest of pink blankets.

Your firstborn is already tucked under her covers, her nightlight spinning hazy stars around the walls.

“How much do I love you?” you whisper, stroking her hair.

Sarah takes a few seconds to answer, sleep already overcoming her. “More…more ‘n the…” she yawns, “…more ‘n the whole world, Mama…”

“The whole world,” you repeat, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Sweet dreams, little Duckie.”

Joel meets you in the hallway. He holds the baby monitor up. The screen lights; the fuzzy outline of your baby in her cot. Arms outstretched, above her head; fists balled and a determined frown on her face as she snoozes.

“Like a log,” Joel mutters, nudging you over to the stairs. “’nother thing she got from her mom.”

You smile – a loose, sleepy thing. “’s my girl.”

He follows you downstairs.

The reflections of the candles glint from each photo frame on the wall, lighting them one by one as you pass. First birthdays, first Christmases. Sarah perched atop a pony in Jackson; Joel in a suit holding Ellie, seconds before she spat milk down his tie.

Each one a tiny thread, linking you from who you were to who you are now. Stringing you together, binding the wound you never knew how to tend to.

At the bottom of the stairs, you feel a tug from your back pocket.

“Joel –” you giggle, stumbling into his arms. “We got dishes to – Joel –”

“Come on,” he whispers against your lips, stealing soft kisses. “It’s a nice night, let’s just sit for a while.”

He leads you out front and rocks back on the swing. He sets the monitor down at his feet and opens his arms. A goofy smile on his face, eyes twinkling.

You fold your arms. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I know. But I love you.”

Your breath catches, the way it always does. Almost seven years, two kids and a fucking joint mortgage – and it still catches you off guard when you remember.

He loves you. He always did.

“That’s what makes you the idiot,” you reply, stepping forward. You slip into his lap, knees either side of his hips, and link your arms around his neck. “Fell in love with your nemesis.”

“Hm.” Joel’s arms scoop around your butt. “All that time, I thought we were friends.”

You laugh, leaning in to him. “We were never friends,” you say, “I never wanted to be just your friend.”

His chest rumbles beneath yours. He presses more kisses into your neck, kneading your waist. He takes your jaw, pulling back to look at you.

This man, and the silver through his beard, and the marks on his careful hands. This man, who never looked surer of himself – never looked more like the gleeful kid you once spotted in a photo frame – than when he has one daughter in one arm and the other slung over his back.

This man, who once built you a closet in exchange for a fake date. Who, drunk on liquor and something more, followed you back to your hotel room and changed you forever.

Made you his, forever.

You forget what it ever felt like to be anything else.

#for the purposes of this fic it was sunny and dry in austin today #chats w max #anon #sweet child o' mine #joel miller drabble #joel miller x reader

331 notes · View notes

kaciidubs · 5 months

Note

Kaciii I know someone sent sungie and jinnie in skirts buttt, what about poly! Skz with you seungie, sungie, lixie, and jinnie in skirts and tail plugs I would melttt.

Oh, I'm absolutely melting and foaming at this thought, Nonnie! ❣ Warnings; Sub Poly! Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, and Seungmin, Fem Dom! Reader, slight feminization, pet play, mommy kink, hint of a foot kink ❣ Additional tags; Usual pet names, Jisung is referred to as Sungie and Seungmin is referred to as Minnie for ease of reading, Reader is referred to as Jagi, Mommy, Miss/Ma'am Previous: Hyunjin and Jisung + Skirts

Play Time [Pretty Puppy, Pretty Kitties]

Having the free time to schedule a play date involving two of your boyfriends was a trial to say the least, but having the grace of gathering all four for one full night of play was a feat only the best could pull off.

Luckily for you, you were the best.

It always started out the same; laying out blankets, rearranging some furniture, and gathering all of the necessary toys for the night, before your pets came to run amok - under your rules, of course.

Hyunjin, your pretty kitty, elegant white tail plug and fuzzy ears to match, was sitting at your feet with sultry, yearning eyes.

"You look like you want something, Hyune," you hum softly, gently twisting a stand of his jet black hair around your finger, "mind telling me what it is?"

"You, Miss." His response came fast and easy, never the one for beating around the bush when it came to his desires.

"Me? My precious prince, you know play time is meant for everyone, right? Why don't you go play with them for a little bit?"

His simmering gaze turned into a soft pout as he looked longingly toward your other partners and you followed suit, easily realizing why he sought you out first.

Jisung, the calico kitten dressed in a baby doll tank top and pastel pink skirt, was eagerly watching the remaining two of your pets happily play fighting each other; Felix, your excitable orange tabby kitten, wrestling with Seungmin, the lone golden retriever puppy among your kitten group.

There was already a dynamic at play, and Hyunjin resigned himself to taking, potentially, the easy way out.

"Oh, my poor baby," cooing in played up pity, you nudged your sock covered foot against the obvious bulge of his purple skirt, "You just need someone to give you attention, is that it?" When his eyelids fluttered from the welcome stimulation, you smirked, "Alright, sweet prince, I've got you. Sungie, can you come here, kitten?"

At the sound of his name, Jisung crawled over to you before nudging your leg with his face, peering up at you with doe eyes.

"Yes, Jagi?"

"It seems like our precious Hyune feels a bit left out..." Leaning down, you danced your fingers down the line of his jaw before pulling his pink bottom lip down with your thumb, watching as it bounced back into place. "Can you play with him, for me? Give him the love he deserves?"

Nodding with no hesitation, the small bells on his cat ears jingled from the motion, "Y-Yes, I will!"

Just as you went to praise him for his obedience, a sharp cry reached your ears and you looked up to see Felix at the will of Seungmin yet again; the puppy pinning him down and nipping at his sensitive skin.

"Minnie! No biting!"

Felix let out a whined moan at a particularly sharp bite, turning his head to look at you with glistening eyes - though, the pleasure flushing his face was unmistakable. "Mommy!"

Scoffing out a laugh, Seungmin glanced at you with the fire of challenge burning behind his eyes - ever the daring puppy to test your patience. "But he likes it, look at him!"

Of course, you knew he liked it without needing further proof, yet your eyes trailed down their lithe bodies to see Felix's white skirt flipped up from the roughhousing and his dick solid and leaking against his thigh. You could also make out the sight of Seungmin's own length poking the fabric of his blue plaid skirt, equally as excited from the push and pull of their little dominance match that he never failed to win.

Coming back to your nerves, you pinned him with a warning glare, "Did I ask if he enjoyed it?"

Conceding with a smirk, he shook his head, the sliver tag of his collar catching the light with the movement, "No, Ma'am."

"Okay, then. Don't make me have to turn this into a punishment." turning your attention to your orange kitten, your gaze softened, "Lixie, honey? You okay?"

He nodded quickly, "'M okay, I- I just want more."

Humming in understanding, you looked back to the previous pair to see Hyunjin on his back, airy moans falling from his plump lips while Jisung's head was partially covered by his skirt - though, judging by the not-so-subtle sucking sounds, you could guess what exactly was happening.

"It's okay, baby, we're about to get into the real fun pretty soon."

[unedited]

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #han jisung smut #lee felix smut #kim seungmin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #kim seungmin x reader

260 notes · View notes

fryingpan1234567 · 3 months

Text

listen I knowwww Roach should be British. he was on a British task force. he’s got the flag on his uniforms. but when @fixfoxnox said southerner Roach I just couldn’t not love him okay leave me alone

anyways. southerner Roach shenanigans

(I guess you could call this a Something in the Orange fanfic since he’s besties with Jackson in this scenario as well as dating Ghost and Soap……… but it’s general enough it’s probably fine ANYWAYS)

Roach’s accent, while it normally only lightly flavors a few of his words, gets considerably thicker when he’s visiting home

I mean like he does the thing southerners do where they somehow mash entire sentences into one word and the others are just like “……….what” but Jackson is nodding like he understood

Like. They’re all at dinner together somewhere. Somebody brings up the rodeo at the state fair. The Europeans have no idea what they’re talking about. Roach just goes “y’ain’tneverheardadat??” and Soap nearly has a stroke trying to figure out what he meant but Jackson continues to eat soundly like he didn’t hear anything wrong

COWBOY👏 HAT👏 RULE👏

HELP

No no no they go to some random dive bar for one of their birthdays. It doesn’t matter whose. Jackson and Roach both have cowboy hats because OBVIOUSLY and like. They exchange this look that the others can’t figure out whenever one of their boyfriends steals their hat via flirting

(They tell them later and then can’t stop laughing while Soap and Ghost and Gaz are just sitting there like uh oh)

After that the hat stealing is very much purposeful

Square dancing to fucking Timber by Kesha and Pitbull in said dive bar because that’s just required idk what to tell you

Soap and Ghost seeing Roach ride a horse for the first time and visibly bluescreen

Roach recognizing people from high school in his hometown even tho he hasn’t seen them in like 20 years

He likes Taylor Swift but only her old country-adjacent stuff

Ghost and Soap couldn’t figure out his aversion to any kind of substitute milk until he took them home and they found out it’s because he grew up drinking milk that literally came from the cows he has in his backyard. They own two cows. And a few chickens. Very resourceful

Jackson and Roach dragging the 141 to Roach’s family’s Super Bowl party one year because in the southern states it’s a huge fucking deal

The Europeans being like “………this is quite possibly one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen in my life” but their boys are having fun so it’s okay

God help the rest of them. Jackson and Roach are rooting for opposite teams.

There’s screaming, there’s wrestling on the living room floor, there’s spilling food and beer everywhere. The amount of rubbing it in after a touchdown lands is fucking crazy, and they’ve shouted about stabbing each other every single time

Eventually, maybe with a bit of googling, the others get into it. Soap hasn’t stopped shoving Mrs. Roach’s buffalo chicken dip in his face since he’d discovered it when they’d arrived, and Ghost was letting the kids use his tattoo like a coloring page while he chatted with Roach’s dad and brothers. Gaz kept getting elbowed in the ribs whenever Roach and Jackson tousled on the couch, and a couple times he was asked to hold Jackson’s beer so “I can kick some sense into this dipshit,” usually followed by Roach’s maniacal cackling. Price was banging around in the kitchen with Mrs. Roach. Nobody knew how he’d gotten dragged into that, but he seemed to be enjoying himself

On the topic of bringing the boys home to the fam oh my GODS thanksgiving

Ghost is not a dessert person. He’s never been a dessert person. But he had four slices of Mr. Roach’s apple pie, so,,,,,,,,, apparently he is actually a dessert person

Obvi Roach is good with all guns, but he was hunting with his dad and brothers by the time he was like six. He knows how to work a shotgun like he breathes

(Ahem being southern is why he’s so fucking stubborn btw if anyone was wondering)

Roach and Jackson both are religious Dolly Parton listeners

“DID U GUYS KNOW SHE WROTE JOLENE AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU ON THE SAME DAY—“

Ghost and Soap wake up one night because there’s a weird noise outside. They poke Roach awake like “???? what was that??” and he was just like “oh yeah the woods make noises sometimes. don’t worry about it. if something actually wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t hear it coming” and promptly passed back out

“Yea I’ve seen a skinwalker before” “FYM YOU’VE S E E N O N E ? “ “It was in my backyard?? Relax it just wanted the coyote that always tries to kill our chickens. I didn’t really mind”

Gaz suggests investigating a weird figure he saw in the woods. Roach laughs out loud and Jackson smacks him in the back of the head like “that’s how you fucking die you idiot”

“Y’all’re lucky we’re here to stop you from doing somethin’ stupid. Fuckin’ city slickers” “What did you just call me”

The deafening sounds of crickets and locusts puts Roach to sleep almost instantly every night. Ghost barely sleeps every time they visit.

”IT IS SO FUCKING LOUD IF ONE MORE BLOODY CRICKET—“ “Simon not everyone needs literal dead silence to sleep—“

No matter how many pillows he stacks on top of his head he can’t escape it

Oh. Oh. The Europeans CANNOT do southern heat. They’re passed out on the porch while Jackson and Roach and Roach’s brothers play football in the front yard

Roach makes killer lemonade and iced tea nobody talk to me

He has a rusty blue ancient pickup that he says is his baby. One of the wheels is misshapen and the bed squeaks dangerously every time they hit a pothole, but he won’t get rid of it EVER

Roach introduces Soap and Ghost to catching fireflies in jars with his nieces and nephews. They are. So in love with the concept.

It gets turned into a competition, because of course it does, and it looked like Ghost was going to win— but then the youngest of the participating children silently held up a jar that was too bright to look at and audibly buzzing from the amount of bugs inside of it. They cut their losses and embrace the fact that they’ll never be That Good

Southern👏 sunsets👏 there ain’t nothing like it

Soap has a sketchbook dedicated entirely to doodling Roach doing farm things

Roach had a horse he took care of in high school. Her name was Peaches and he literally cried when he found pictures of her in his room

Ghost LOVES the sweet old border collie Roach’s parents have. That dog has seen many a stampede, and he’s herded just as many. What a man. Ghost does not leave him alone Ever

gods fuck me bro I could literally talk about southern Roach F O R E V E R (idk if you can tell from the long ass post Jesus Christ)

good morning/ night/ 4am lmk if you want more of this

#cod #tf141 #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #paul jackson #something in the orange #kind of #soapghostroach #ghostsoaproach #southerner roach

149 notes · View notes

yxami · 1 year

Text

yan roomate who’s a brat and cannot live without your attention.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ • • •

“Did you steal my shampoo again? I literally just fucking bought that 2 days ago??!?” You held up the lavender shampoo bottle that was obviously way emptier than you had it before.

“I didn’t steal your stupid fucking shampoo! We just have the same one, not my fault!” Your roommate crossed his arms and glared at you.

Malakai was your roommate, the both of you fought often. Getting into fights, arguments, etc. It was hectic and chaotic in your dorm but that was normal.

He had stolen once again from your bathroom. This time it was that brand new lavender shampoo that blessed your nose with such a good smell that made you buy it immediately.

“You’re so irritating, you always steal my stuff! I also told you to not drink the orange juice I bought because that was just for ME, I needed it for breakfast today and you finished it”

“I was thirsty, that’s not my fault. Maybe if you bought more then you wouldn’t be having this pro—“

Your fist connected with his stomach with an average level force. You knocked the breath out of him and he quickly placed his hand on his stomach.

“Ah-, you’re such an asshole” He quickly swung at you that hit your chest and the both of you landed on his bed.

Your bodies entangled as you wrestled trying to get the upper hand. You felt his warm touched all over you, they weren’t pleasant though as they were pushing and pulling on your body. You did the same as well, still trying to get the advantage.

You felt a stinging blow on your arm, if felt warm and it vibrated with painful sensitivity. This earned Malakai a painful slap to the face once your hand was freed.

Petty slaps and hits were given left and right while your bodies struggled to get on top. The bed creaked and squeaked with all the commotion on top.

After a lot of meaningless punches, throws and almost falling off the bed, the both of you gave up, having wasted your energy; both sets of eyes glared at each other with immense irritation.

His face so close to yours, you could get a clear view of his soft glaring eyes. His face was captivating and you found that so frustrating about him.

After the arguing and fighting, your bodies became tired, sweaty, and sticky. You panted, being under him at the end of the fight. Your chest rose up and fell down quickly. He stared down at you, quick breathing almost matching yours.

Your bodies paused like that for just a few moments. Your eyes once again meeting, you felt like you saw something weird in his eyes. Some emotion other than irritation, you didn’t know what but it made his eyes look just a tiny bit gentle despite your fighting.

His face turned a bit red, rushing to getting off you, he almost fell off the bed. “Tch, I still won.” He said smugly.

“Yeah, whatever.. who still got bitch slapped? You” You giggled at his red cheek that had your hand imprint.

Physical fights were usual with the two of you. They weren’t serious, it was just frustration being let out between the two of you. The frustration was always with each other though.

“Still won” His voice teased you, almost mocking you as well.

“Yeah yeah..” You gave up on arguing with the little brat that was your roommate.

You left the room and went to go find your phone that you had left somewhere in the kitchen. Once should found it on the dinner table you decided to invite someone over. Why not? You were bored and wanted to hangout with a friend.

Malakai quickly locked his door once you were out and threw himself on his bed. Every time he fought you he couldn’t help but gush at the memory of you touching him.

He didn’t care if you were slapping him or brushing your hand on him. He loved your attention, especially when you degraded him for using your stuff and refusing to go out and buy his own things.

He loved when you argued with him, spewing insults left and right. He just loved everything about you.

When he first moved in, he slowly realized how obsessed he was with you. Especially when you hurt him during the fights you had.

He had never felt like that before so he was caught off guard and stayed away from you for the first couple of weeks when you moved in. But his obsession grew stronger and stronger, and his neediness for your presence kicked at him to go see you.

Which made him become the bratty roommate he is today. Always looking for a way to piss you off and gain a new mark on his body.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ • • •

“Hey!! Thanks for inviting me over, I can’t wait to get on and see the new level. I heard it’s super fucking cool!” Your friend quickly rambled on for the reason of the visit as you closed the door.

They easily made themself comfortable which you didn’t mind.

Oliver was always like that, carefree and blissfully happy all the time. That’s what made you appreciate him as your close friend.

You turned on your game console and handed him the game you both were going to play. You sat on the couch next time him and he insisted for you to sit closer.

He was always touchy and nice to you which always made you flustered. You scooted closer to him which he responded with wrapping his arm around you. He was excited to play and wanted you close so the both of you could focus together. It was a multiplayer helping game after all!!

Malakai heard laughing and talking. The beloved voice he always loved to hear was speaking to some unrecognizable guy. He rushed to the living room but acted casual.

He popped his head in the between of you and made a snarky comment. “Wow, this game totally doesn’t look like it’s played by virgins. What kind of dorks are you guys?”

“Go the hell away Malakai” You responded swiftly to his bitchy comment.

“Aw, cmon. I genuinely wanna know! You guys look like you’re actually enjoying it. What’s so fun about it?” He snatched the controller from your friend.

Oliver had uneasy eyes, not sure what to do but let him take it. He was a nice guy after all and didn’t want to be rude to your roommate.

“Don’t be an asshole, you’re not funny” You give back the controller to Oliver and glared at Malakai.

To which Malakai looked unbothered, he just looked at you guys continue to play. It looked like a teamwork game. Both players on screen needed to help each other while being in an apocalyptic world. The new level including a new type of zombie, even more difficult than the last.

Malakai still leaning against the back of the couch observed how excited you looked to be playing.

Every time you guys successfully completed a challenge, you would high-five him to which he high-fived you back! Then back to the game!

He didn’t like the way Oliver or you looked at each other. It pissed him off. Really bad.

You didn’t notice Malakai’s obvious signs of anger, but Oliver sure did. He looked nervous with Malakai’s death stare. It got worse when you stood up and went to the kitchen to get snacks.

“Hey, why are you still here? Can you fuck off? Nobody likes that you’re here” Malakai insulted him as soon as he got the chance.

“Wha? What did I do?” Oliver looked genuinely confused , caught off guard by Malakai’s comment.

“They doesn’t even like you, they’re just being nice to you cause you’re pathetic and annoying.” He continued.

“Sorry? I’ll leave the two of you alone-“ Oliver didn’t put up a fight. He didn’t want to get in a fight. Malakai was intimidating after all, especially with his height and appearance.

Once you came back with drinks and chips, you noticed the weird atmosphere.

“Hey.. I’m gonna go, I’m not feeling too well so I’m gonna try and sleep it off.” Oliver looked uneasy as if something was bothering him.

“Oh! That sucks, I thought we were gonna play all day… Well, drive home safe okay? Sorry you’re feeling sick” You had a sincere apologetic look on your face. Which Malakai didn’t like, what was so special about that loser?

“Y-yeah! See you soon, I hope we can play for awhile another time” Oliver collected his few things and hurriedly left. Not before saying his goodbyes though.

Once the door shut, you questioned Malakai.

“What the hell did you do? I leave for not even a minute and Oliver suddenly wants to leave”

“Pff, I don’t know. I didn’t do anything, why are you accusing me immediately?” He got defensive.

“God, you always have to ruin something for me don’t you? It’s always this thing with you! I can never enjoy something with YOU around!” You yelled at him so loudly, the walls wanted to shake.

As you left in silence, he couldn’t help but stand there dumbfounded. You didn’t actually mean that did you? He made you mad but you didn’t hit him or anything, just yelled. He didn’t like that.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ • • •

The night had passed, cold and radio silent. No yelling about Malakai taking a long shower, no yelling about how he left dishes in the sink, no nothing.

He finally spoke up clearing his dry throat. “Uhm, do you have classes today?”

No answer…

Once he registered that you weren’t gonna respond he looked up and saw you sitting on the couch watching TV. It’s obvious you just washed the dirty dishes he had left last night, soap still leaving down the drain.

“Hello?” He left the kitchen area and walked up to you.

You didn’t even acknowledge his presence, still staring at the TV. It was a good show, you always watched that show. But why weren’t you responding?

“I’m talking to you, respond” He started getting annoyed. Looking down at you, he finally understood.

“You’re ignoring me??”

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“What did I do”

“Are you gonna respond?

“Respond”

Even with his questions and statement, not one got a response.

Malakai was getting worried. He didn’t even do anything majorly bad, he’s done stupider stuff. And this is the one thing that got you to ignore him?? How long were you going to ignore him.

“Hey, I’m not playing around anymore” He poked at you. Even sitting down next to you to get your attention.

“Answer cmon, I didn’t do anything wrong!!” He didn’t like that you weren’t uttering a word.

He didn’t care if your attention to him was negative like hitting him or yelling at him. At least he had your attention. But if you were ignoring him he would not be able to mentally live. He could’ve live without your attention on him.

His eyes started to water and felt a large lump in his throat. “Cmon… I’m sorry please respond” He lightly shook you desperate for any acknowledgment.

“Look.. I’m sorry I won’t be mean anymore just talk to me please” He sobbed, his hands trembled as they laid on your shoulder and thigh. His black strands sticking to his wet cheeks, he continued to look at you with his endearing saddened eyes.

“please…” his cries were now unbearable to your stubbornness. You didn’t expect him to start sobbing just cause you ignored him. It caught you way off guard and now you felt bad even though he was being an asshole. When you were mad all you did was curse and fight with him.

You pat his head messing his hair as he jumped up noticing you finally paid attention to him. He jumped at you with a hug sobbing even louder than before. “I’m sorry” He mumbled.

He snuggled into your neck while you just sighed.

“God, what am I gonna do with you?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ • • •

#yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #not rlly #gender neutral reader #gn reader #obsession #fighting #male #male yandere #series #malakaimyoc

863 notes · View notes

sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 2 months

Text

Ostara

Note: bit of an unplanned surprise fic I came up with earlier today, see it as my one year anniversary gift to you lovely readers. extra note; I wrote and proofread this during the boop war, so any mistakes left are not my fault.

Warnings: 18+!! smut; primal play, breeding kink.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: It's time to celebrate the spring equinox.

wordcount: 1,7k

Masterlist

The fire was bright and warm, your skin orange from its glow and glistening from its heat. The smell of burnt wood mingled with the scent of fresh ale and smoked meat, while the laughter and cheers of many roared through the clear night sky. The bonfire, which lit up the entire town, was always the highlight of the celebration to welcome back spring and its warmth and light, as well as the renewal of life, after a long, dark and cold winter. Celebrating the spring equinox was simply tradition, and another tradition that came with it every year was your husband getting drunk early in the evening, and you already weren't looking forward to it. When your husband was drunk he was always looking to pick a fight, with anyone, and you always had to drag him home. But him being much taller and broader than you, dragging him home always resulted in some weird wrestling competition you could never win anyway, so you already braced yourself for the struggle that would undoubtedly arrive later.

However, tonight… Sihtric wasn't drunk. In fact, he was very much sober, to your surprise, and he was enjoying the festivity while he never strayed from your side. His hands lingering on your waist, and his lips on your neck and shoulders whenever he saw his chance. You laughed and danced, together and with your friends, and it didn't take long before your husband became a little more needy and rough with his hands. He pulled you further from the celebrating crowd with every few passing minutes, kissing and hugging you until he had you taken to the edge of town where the thick forest began, which was starting to blossom and bloom again.

'What are we doing here?' you giggled, slightly tipsy but still sober enough to know exactly what you were doing.

'Celebrating the return of spring,' Sihtric whispered against your lips before he kissed you again, 'and the fertility of the earth,' he pulled away slightly and looked down into your eyes with a smirk, 'and of you, my wife,' he breathed and his hands found your buttocks.

'Someone is in a mood tonight,' you chuckled and wrapped your arms around his neck, then ran your hands through his long, wild and loose hair.

Your husband hummed in agreement, he would never deny he had been looking forward to this evening for several days already, withholding from getting drunk for once just so he could breed you in the forest while the whole town was celebrating around the bonfire. No one would miss the two of you or even hear you. Sihtric spun your around and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest and he swayed you lightly in the light of the moon.

'I want to chase you,' he husked as his teeth grazed your ear, 'so, now hop, my little wife,' he chuckled darkly and slapped your buttocks firmly, which made you jump slightly, 'hop like a little bunny and run from the big bad wolf.'

You knew this game all too well. It wasn't the first time Sihtric chased after you, but it had been a while since the last time you had run and hid from your husband, and this was the first time you were to do so in a darkened forest. Regardless, you knew what to do, and as soon as Sihtric released you from his embrace you began to run, like a bunny. Quickly, with your dress hiked up in your hands you ran past the trees, into the darkness of the night, your path scarcely illuminated by the silver moon light while you jumped and skipped over branches and small bushes. You knew your husband always gives you a headstart, so you ran as far as you could while your heart was beating out of your chest. Your body trembled with adrenaline and the anticipation of your husband following your tracks and finding you. So you ran and ran…

Sihtric sniffed and raked his tattooed fingers through his hair while he gave you a chance to hide. He inhaled deeply and exhaled just as sharply, his warm breath visible in the cool, moonlit night. He already felt his arousal tightening his breeches, and his jaw was clenched while his eyes were wide and almost wild, like those of a hungry predator. His nostrils flared with each breath he took, until he decided you had enough time, and he began to run into the direction he had seen you hop away to.

Like you, Sihtric jumped and swayed through the forest, albeit much smoother than you ever could, avoiding fallen trees and broken branches while bats flew overhead and an owl hooted in the distance. And it was as if your husband could track your scent, because he instinctively followed the path you had taken, and soon heard twigs snap and leaves rustle nearby. He stopped to listen and closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds around him. And no matter how careful you were, you also knew he heard the loud splintering of a twig underneath your boots echoing through the forest as you tried to sneak further into the darkness.

Sihtric snapped his head towards the sound, just when the hooting owl flew off and bats flapped their quiet wings, betraying your presence as you had scared those with your shadow in the night. Sihtric turned on his heels, and he howled like a wolf while his cloak circled around him and moved along with his impressive body as he stalked towards you, his lips curling into a devilish smile once his mismatched eyes caught your fleeing figure not far ahead.

You looked back over your shoulder, hearing the undeniably familiar sound of your husband's footsteps as he closed in on you, accompanied by his heavy but calm breathing once he was close enough for you to hear. You squealed with excitement and an arousing sense of fear captivated you when you felt his big hands grab your waist, pulling you back towards him and lifting you momentarily off your feet. And your husband was strong, as he held you up with one arm while he removed his cloak with his free hand, covering the cold forest ground with the fur before he laid you down beneath him.

'My bunny did not hop fast enough,' Sihtric laughed soft and darkly as he nuzzled your nose and dragged his lips over yours, 'did she?'

You shook your head and gave him your best big and innocent eyes, for you had not managed to escape the claws of your husband. Sihtric shoved his hands under your skirt, digging his fingers into your warm thighs while he snarled at you, like a wolf whose mouth was watering for his prey after an exhilarating chase.

'So now,' he purred low and dangerously, 'this pretty little bunny is mine to play with… mine to taste… mine to devour… and mine to breed,' he growled and moved away, then grabbed your ankles and threw them over his shoulders before he grabbed your hips.

He leaned in and buried his head underneath your pushed up skirt, he pulled your core towards his face and you shivered with desire when you felt his warm breath on your sensitive skin. He locked your legs with his arms and delved his tongue between your folds, sucking and licking and kissing your sweet spot until you cried out helplessly and shook in his arms while your fingers were tangled in his locks, pulling and tugging as you bucked your hips against his mouth. Your moans and gasps sounded through the woods, but no one, except your husband and those bats in the sky, would ever hear the way your husband had you captured and cry for more.

And he drank your juices like a dehydrated beast, while tears pricked in your eyes and his name sounded from your smiling lips, over and over again in ecstasy until your hands released the tight grip you had in his hair, and your trembling legs slid off his broad shoulders. Sihtric then took his dagger from his leather belt, and he cut open your dress with one swift move, then sheathed the blade again and kissed his way up your exposed body, which was decorated with goosebumps while the moon made your skin look hauntingly beautiful and perfect, like a goddess.

'I only had a taste,' Sihtric murmured and kissed your neck, 'I have yet to devour you,' he whispered and bit your ear lightly.

He grabbed one of your breasts and squeezed your flesh in his warm hand as he trailed his lips down to your other, he flicked his tongue against your hardened nipple before he bit the sensitive skin lightly. He began to kiss his way down your figure again, his fingertips following the trail of wet kisses he left on your body until he reached your folds again.

'And I will devour you,' he said and looked up at you as he laid between your thighs.

You swallowed hard and moaned desperately, the sight of your beautiful yet rugged looking husband between your thighs was your favourite sight in the world. But Sihtric had other plans to devour you, as to devour you the same way he had tasted you would not be thrilling enough for him now, so he was quick to flip you over and on top of him. You gasped and a lewd moan left you when you felt his tongue devouring your core again after he had pulled you up to his face, your thighs once again locked in his strong arms, forcing you to grind down on his face as he laid underneath you. And devouring you he did, until your legs weakened and you collapsed on top of him with another desperate cry of his name. Sihtric then wrapped you in his arms and laid you down again, safe and warm on his cloak while he wasn't done with you yet, and he crawled on top of you.

'My pretty little bunny,' your husband husked in your ear and cupped your cheeks, 'I have tasted and devoured you,' he cooed.

He peppered your face with soft kisses while you smiled at him, dazed and in love and completely surrendered to the beast that your husband was for the night.

'Now,' Sihtric grinned and dragged his tongue over his teeth, 'all that lasts is breeding you, until dawn arrives.'

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama @lexwolfhale @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a @verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @ylvie50 @succnfuccubus @hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis @jennifer0305 @carnationworld @justanother-sihtricgirlie @stark-head @il0vebeingdelulu @thenameswinter99

If you want to be added/removed from the taglist, message me 🖤

#sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic

70 notes · View notes

diyahatnight · 1 year

Text

Genshin men head cannons

Warnings : Small warning. Complete fluff and a little suggestive!

Pairings: Venti, Zhongli, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Xiao, Diluc, and Itto as your boyfriend/ husband.

Any audience

Summary: These are just head cannons and and how I think they’d actually act if they were your boyfriend.

Notes: This is a modern au with phones and sending text messages. Please excuse my grammar mistakes <3

Venti would send you random pictures of stray cats while he’s casually strolling around Mondstat.

Before Venti preforms on his Lyre, he would send you videos of him playing that specific song so he can get your feedback.

Venti is constantly drunk so he sends you drunk texts very often. That’s when you know it’s time for you to go and walk him back home.

Zhongli likes to spoil you with the money he does not have. Before you wake up he’d go out and get you coffee and danishes for breakfast. But because he’s old and needs his beauty sleep you still wake up with him by your side with your sleep mask on, but food on your night stand.

Zhongli never has his wallet on him, so the one time he took you on a date and actually payed, the entire restaurant applauded like he just proposed.

Zhongli loves you enough to let you play with his long hair even though it’s not professional. What’s professional about letting your wife touch you anyway? (definitely loves you enough to put a ring on it!)

While Ayato is busy with work he’d send some guards to check on you while you’re out on a walk in Inazuma.

The way Ayato proposed was weird. He sent a guard to do it with an expensive ring and note reading “(imagine me down on one knee) will you marry me my love?” you said yes obviously but you didn’t understand why he couldn’t do it when he came home.

When Ayato is getting ready for work, you would see him in the bathroom with your headband on to keep his hair out his face while he is doing his skin routine.

Childe would send you photos of him pulling his shirt up to show his abs and his pants pulled down enough to see his hips and his re growing happy trail. Messages read “Is it orange down there too?” and he replies with “You should know by now;)”

Childe makes his Fatui co workers set up cute dates for the two of you. He either beats them up or gives them money.

Childe likes to be little spoon.

Cyno texts you to tell you what time he gets off and when he gets home y’all are sleeping together. You text and ask him “baby what do you mean by sleep together?” he replies with “Whatever you want it to mean, i do as you please.”

When Cyno first met your family he made a joke and your father absolutely loved him and his dad jokes.

Cyno didn’t confess to you before you two started dating. Candace had to force him by telling him that she will hide his tcg cards.

Xiao loves it when you touch him. Anywhere. Even though he knows his Karmic debt can harm mortals he knows you’re different so he doesn’t warn you as much.

Xiao doesn’t like when you do commissions on your own so he’ll ask Venti to watch over you for him if he can’t.

Xiao is new to love so he is trying his best. He’s just happy you are patient with him.

Diluc Likes it when you play in his hair and put it in a ponytail for him.

While Diluc is closing up the winery he sits you on one of the counters and makes you wait for him to finish cleaning up.

Once Kaeya switched Diluc’s grape juice with red wine. He kept asking for more without realizing, and he came home drunk. After taking a warm bath with him you two sat on the couch as you babied him.

Itto let’s you know how much he loves you by sending pictures of him beetle wrestling and saying “Fighting for my one and oni” it’s corny but cute.

Itto doesn’t wear shirts often so you tried to get him to wear a dress shirt and it nearly ripped off of him.

Because Itto stays shirtless he’s constantly cold and sick “My extremely large man baby.” is your name for him in your phone because he acts like he’s dying when he’s sick.

I hope you guys enjoyed! i’m probably gonna do genshin girls or genshin 4 star men! :)

769 notes · View notes

waltzchristophh · 3 months

Text

SANTINO LOVES YOU ♡ drabble + headcanons

sonny corleone x reader

Sonny was a frequent at the corner market your step father owned, collecting dues for paid protection and most of all, pestering you.

Please leave comments if you enjoyed!

Your eyes lifted from your book of poetry to the suspicious grocery patron as he stashed a blood orange into his pockets, holding a finger to his lips.

Shh.

The curly haired gangster maintained a subtle grin, pestering you further. That was enough. You stood from the cushiony saddle you rested upon and stomped furiously in Sonny's direction.

"Give it to me," You demanded with an extended hand.

"What? This?" The orange fell from his pocket and rested between his fingers. "You want this?"

Before you could snatch it back, he held the piece of fruit over your head like a cruel older brother.

"Oh, I don't think you're getting this back, sweet pea."

You maintained your dignity by refusing the jump for it, and instead took a different approach.

Your fingers crawled the length of Sonny's strong sides and lept to tickle Sonny's armpits while he still had his hand in the air.

He doubled over in laughter as you wrestled him for the orange. Soon the two of you were entwined in a fit of raucous laughter and giggles. A hastle that seemed nowhere near 89 cents.

"Quit it!"

"Sonny!"

Your step father's gut entered the room before he did. "Ay, Sonny."

The tackling immediately stopped, and the two of you brushed yourselves off, inching away from each other.

Finally Sonny broke the silence.

"Dunno why you bother paying my father; looks like she's got you covered," he shrugged with a grin.

---

headcanons

Your flirtatious affairs eventually turned into actual dates with Sonny knocking on your father's window with his jacket hung over his shoulder

"I'd like to see your daughter."

Within a few months you were one of the family.

You weren't completely oblivious to the family business, often pressing your ear to the door until Sonny caught you and shook you silly.

"C'mon what's'a matter with you?"

"But I can help!"

He rushes you away before explaining the situation: that it was unprecedented for women to be involved in the internal affairs of the Corleone family business.

Several months later after giving much thought to it, he began advocating for you're inclusion in the "family meetings" with full faith in your judgement

"She's a smart cookie, and she knows the trade well, her father owns a Bodega in Queens. They've got intel."

Vito took a liking to you as a young respectable woman, who wasn't afraid to put Sonny in his place.

Your conversations with him were pleasant and you loved hearing his stories about life back in the old country.

Needless to say, he was on board with this change.

A woman (non-italian at that) participating in male discussions was unprecedented. You challenged those norms and Sonny thought that was one of the sexiest things about you

"She may not have italian blood, but she has a strong italian heart, and thats good enough for me. Any questions?"

Any time clemenza tries to interrupt

"Woah, woah, woah- let 'er fucking finish first ya fuckin' jackass."

The two of you making fun of Carlo's flashy clothing at family dinners, which were almost weekly

"Would ya take a look at that fuckin' idiot. Cant believe hes marrying my sister," Sonny's hot breath whispered in your ear.

The two of you would be left in damn near tears of laughter.

"What's so funny?" Carlo would ask cluelessly.

Playing Gin rummy with the fellas and beating them almost every time.

Clemenza dropping his cards in disbelief

"That's my girl," Sonny smiles. "C'mere baby," as he smooches your forehead and cheeks.

With Sonny, every day was a beautiful miracle of joy, but when your father died a pit of sadness darkened your heart and your entire world went black.

He dried your tears with his hard thumb, looking down at you somberly

"Just let it out, honey. I'm here for ya. You're not alone, baby I'll never leave your side."

Looking up at him, hands entwined and sniffling a gentle smile

"It feels like my hands were meant to be held in yours, Sonny. I love you."

"I love you too, pumpkin."

Burying your nose into his chest and inhaling the musky fragrance of his Italian cologne and Cuban cigars.

'Poor butterfly by Sarah Vaughan playing softly on vinyl

Swaying with him to the music as he holds you closer to him. So close you could feel his heart beat to the rhythm

His lips caressing yours with loving tenderness

Monthly vacation to Sicily

Hanging over the edge of the balcony, allowing the straps of your satin nightgown to slip and fall from your shoulders

tipsy with old wine

He trails behind you, snaking a cool hand up your spine and holding your neck

Turning to face him and smiling like a mischievous child, tugging at his gold chain

"I want you to kiss me Sonny. Kiss me till I'm sick of it."

PLEASE COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED :)

#sonny corleone x reader #sonny corleone fluff #sonny corleone #the godfather #the godfather imagine

70 notes · View notes

the-kipsabian · 1 year

Photo

55 notes · View notes

iamumbra195 · 10 months

Text

MY favourite bleach head canons in no particular order

1. the idea that all shinigami in gigai give off uncanny valley vibes

Basically like Isshin, whose not quite human but not quite shinigami, meets some of Ichigo’s friends when he was a kid like Tatsuki and she obviously met his mom before and she was nice so she wasn’t expecting much from his dad and then she meets him and her first reaction is ‘what the fuck is that???’

The kurosaki kids, who have grown up with their dad and have pretty high levels of reiatsu, don’t actually realize this while their human friends just instinctually avoid Isshin ‘cause they feel like something’s off about him

of course over time and with extended exposure to Ichigo’s reiatsu, the weirdness kinda fades away but anyone outside of Ichigo’s circle generally avoids all the shinigami that come to Karakura in gigai for those reasons

2. all animals hate shinigami except cats and crows

literally for no reason besides the fact that I like them

I love the idea of shinji with his creepy ass smile just perched on top of a telephone pole and if he stays still long enough, crows will start sitting on him XD

I also have cats that I love and I love the idea of Ichigo just chilling on his bed with an orange cat and doing the purring thing with it while he’s sleeping

And then when he goes to a pet store with Rukia because she wants to see bunnies, all the animals go ballistic anf they get kicked out XD

3. the visored + ichigo with animalistic traits

laying down on hot things because it feels nice on their skin and soothes something in their lizard brains

eyes that flash hollow yellow when they feel intense emotion (inspired the scene in the anime where Aizen says that hollowification is faster when agitated so emotions heavily affect their appearance

I like the idea that they get very tactile with people they care about (not in a romantic way) and they get into little wrestling matches over stupid stuff because that’s they’re idea of playing and bonding

Shinji gives cat vibes, you can’t even tell me he doesn’t just look at him. When cats make eye contact as they push something off the table- that’s him

I also really like the idea of the hollowification affecting their zanpakuto. Given that Ichigo was pretty much born with his hollow, he doesn’t notice the different the way the Visored do

Shinji’s whole standing upside down and reversing the gravity on himself, I like the idea that it came after his hollowification and if he wishes he can do it to others

Idk if there’s any jjk manga readers her but you know that attack kenjaku has where he makes you feel like you’re falling but you’re not really? He does it to Yuji a few times when he’s fighting mahito and I love the idea of Shinji having that ability, just completely fucking up their sense of reality and direction

I haven’t thought of the other visored abilities but from my other AU that I will never write, I mentioned that Kaien was hollowified as well so I love the idea of him just being completely obsessed with everything water related and having an affinity for any water type kido and being able to control minor amounts of water without actually drawing Nejibana and being able to breath under water

4. all zanpakuto spirits do commentary in their weilders head

but only ppl like Ichigo and Toushiro who have incredibly powerful spirits that they can literally talk to in the middle of a fight can actually hear

Like Zabimaru, haineko, and all the other zanpakuto are just constantly making fun or nitpicking the way their weilder uses them

But Ichigo is the only one who has to suffer through Zangetsu (Shiro) cackling in his head while Toushiro gets useful feedback and Ichigo’s just completely done with him

a sadder headcanon: all zanpakuto spirits talk to their weilders regularly however, the Visored because of their own fear of their hollowification have estranged themselves from their zanpakuto spirits and like Shiro is hostile with Ichigo in canon, the others are like ten times worse

5. If Ichigo every actually seals his zanpakuto, he’d be incredibly sensitive to reiatsu (I forgot to add this one the first time and I didn’t wanna make another post XD)

I personally love this little explanation of Ichigo’s powers and you know how Ichigo is just really shitty at sensing reiatsu at the beginning? Shinji commented on it a couple times and seemed pretty confused by it.

I think that part of the reason why he’s so bad at it-- especially after the SS arc ‘cause remember he was actually pretty good at sensing back then-- is because after he achieved Bankai, Hollow Zangetsu was in control rather than OMZ and with that switch in power came a significant uptick in his own reiatsu to the point where Ichigo actually feels like he’s being crushed by his own power and he can feel how close Shiro is for the first time and he’s actually scared of his own power

Hiyori even comments about how he’s scared of his own bankai because the distance between him and Shiro decreases everytime he gets stronger since Shiro gets stronger with him

Anyways, we’re not devolving into an analysis about Ichigo and Shiro but eventually Ichigo learns how to sense things properly even with his own reiatsu

So when he finally seals Zangetsu and he’s no longer covered by his own power because it’s finally sealed, he’s gonna be sensing things so much stronger and get sensory overload only it’s ✨reiatsu sensitivity✨

6. Souls in the Society age until they find an appearance both they and their reiatsu level is comfortable with (Another one because I’m an idiot and I forgot)

Excluding Toushiro’s weird case of appearanc shifting but I guess that could be attributed to his bankai’s weirdness that I don’t know much about

I don’t think we’ve gotten on actual explanation on how souls age so I’ve decided to apply this hc

Basically the reason why ppl like Unohana, who looks incredibly similar to herself from a thousand years ago, the only difference being how much less sinister she looks and how calm she looks

Plus, all the characters from the Turn back the pendulm arc barely changing over a hundred years is wild

I initially thought of it as comparing every decade a soul lives to ever year a human lives but that didn’t feel right so I chose this

#visored #ichigo kurosaki #hollow ichigo #hollow zangetsu #shiro #zanpakuto spirits #bleach #headcanons #shinji hirako #half this post devolved into stuff about him #shinigami #animals #uncanny valley #uncanny shinigami gigai

167 notes · View notes

dumbkiri · 4 months

Note

hi!! how are you? i hope you are having a lovely day and staying hydrated.

i just would like to request a tobio x fem!reader where reader is the younger sister of oikawa and because of the "bad blood" between the two, she gets tired and lectures them about how they should stop their petty fight and, at least, be civilized with each other. (though oikawa is mainly the petty one 😂)

it's a bit messy, so it's okay if you don't decide it or completely change the plot.

btw, i absolutely love your fics!!! and i definitely am a fan of yours!!!

𝐁𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬

ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ ᴛᴏʙɪᴏ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

The Karasuno Boys volleyball team were excited to be invited to the Karasuno’s Girls volleyball tournament. The tournament was called ‘Spring Days’, it was showcasing the popular teams of Japan and they couldn't wait to see all the cute girls there.

Then they were all smacked in the face when Kageyama offhandedly said that he wouldn’t be there to support the Karasuno girls.

“What do you mean you’re not going to support them! They always support us!” Hinata shouted at his grumpy teammate. The orange haired male was currently shaking the life out of Kageyama.

Then Kageyama scowled and began wrestling Hinata as he said, “Because I would be betraying someone important to me. She plays for Shiratorizawa.”

“Eh?” Hinata stopped shaking Kageyama and just stared at him blankly while being held in a chokehold by said male. Then he whispered so the rest of the boys practicing wouldn’t hear them, “Someone important? Like a girlfriend?”

“Is that a problem?” Kageyama casually asked, pushing Hinata away. He picked up his drink and started gulping down the water in his plastic bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugged his shoulders, “It’s a good thing I get a free ride there, but don’t expect me to cheer for our school.”

“We are there to support our team, Kageyama,” Sawamura crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at the young teen with his dad stare, “And if I don’t hear you cheer for them, you will not set for two games- no three games.”

Kageyama deflated and looked off to the side in thought. You would understand the punishment he was getting and would want him to do what’s best for him. But your attitude was going to be different during the game. “Fine, but if our school faces Shiratorizawa, you’re gonna wish I cheered for her instead.”

The boys watched as the volleyball nerd went over to the net getting ready to practice some sets. They had no idea what he meant by that and left to join him for practice.

…..

Saturday came quicker than the boys anticipated, nonetheless they sported the Karasuno jackets and walked into the large stadium with giant smiles on their faces. They all loved the feeling they got walking up to the court, so sometimes it was weird for them to be watching and being the supporting students.

Kageyama was glued to his phone, messaging his girlfriend non-stop. Hinata would definitely peek over Kageyama’s shoulder, but he would always be pushed away with a hand in front of his face. The boys were seated in the first row and had an amazing view of the court.

Kageyama was doing perfectly fine until he heard his rival speaking from afar. “Ah, the poor little trashy crows have to play against my amazing little sister. I can only imagine how giant the point difference is going to be.”

Kageyama looked to his left to see two empty seats. That was until that annoying voice still praising his sister got closer. His dark blue eyes looked up to see brown ones glaring at him. Then another male popped up from behind the curly brown haired person.

“Ah, Kageyama, you’re here to support [Name] as well?” Iwaizumi asked, walking in front of Oikawa and greeting the stumped black haired male.

Kageyama bowed his head then said, “No, I’m not allowed to cheer for her or else I won’t be a setter for three games.”

Iwaizumi sat down next to him and chuckled, “I get it and I’m sure she would as well. Did you tell her?” The older teen got comfortable and looked at his old teammate.

“I’m afraid she’s going to give the Karasuno girls a hard time if I did,” Kageyama admitted with his eyes directed hard at the ground.

A loud laugh caught their attention and Oikawa leaned back into his seat with a smug smile on his face. “[Name] is so going to crush your trashy team solo! If I were you, I would tell your other halves to forfeit now.”

Iwaizumi elbowed Oikawa’s rib cage causing the male to lurch forward with a holler. Before Kageyama could agree with his rival, his loud teammates came into the picture with heated glares, “What makes your snotty sister so special, huh?” Tanaka shouted while Nishinoya stood behind him with a fist in the air, “Ten bucks, our team does the crushing instead!”

“Deal!” Oikawa shouted back with one hand holding his side while Iwaizumi shook his head from the lack of awareness these idiots had. The usually grumpy male leaned over to Kageyama and whispered, “You do know that your team is going to make trashykawa super rich after this game?”

Kageyama crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled back, “I tried to warn them.”

“Welcome all to the Spring Days tournament where talented ladies from all over Japan showcase their volleyball skills.”

The female announcer excitedly proclaimed in her microphone. The males couldn’t focus on what she was saying because a new group arrived behind them and this group wasn’t going to go unnoticed.

“Oh my, is that Oikawa Tooru? The big brother of our baby eagle, [Name]?”

Kageyama peeked a glance at his rival and saw the instant disgust on the male’s face which caused a bit of happiness to appear on his own face. Kageyama thought this was a perfect karma moment for the smug male.

“You do well to address my little sister by her last name. Just because she trains with that guy, doesn’t mean you cannot show her or myself some respect!” Oikawa pointed at a very tall third year student.

Ushijima looked down at Oikawa with his eyes and stated, “Your sister likes the nickname the team gave her and she has all our respect because of her skills. At least she took my advice to join the girls team at Shiratorizawa unlike you. She’s being nurtured if that’s what you care about.”

“Don’t word it like that, it makes you sound like a pervert! Also that’s because I don’t want to be your teammate! You’re the one that brainwashed my poor sister! I should have persuaded her to spend her time elsewhere!”

“What, like Karasuno?” Tendou snidely said with a snicker.

Kageyama could feel the tension from his captain and vice captain as Daichi spoke up with a fake smile on his face. The third year Karasuno male turned around and asked Tendou with that cheap smile, “Something wrong with Karasuno?”

Tendou hummed and shrugged his shoulders, “Ehh~ You don’t really see people with skill choose Karasuno unless they’re rejects,” He looked at the back of Kageyama’s head, “Or useless dreamers.” He stared at the rest owlishly.

“That’s enough out of your mouth,” Semi joined in and told everyone to focus on the game which is about to start. Everyone had their feathers ruffled up in some way and it was because of their snide remarks to one another.

“For our first game, we have Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa! Please welcome them to the court!”

Kageyama pulled out his backpack from under his chair and everyone looked at him suspiciously. He didn’t pay attention to their questioning glares as his eyes were on a girl who looked around the arena for him. Of course, your knees were not covered by your usual white and purple knee pads.

It only took another minute for you to find him and you ran over to the stands with a giant grin on your face.

“Tobio, thank you so much for bringing them! I forgot I left them at your place!” You huffed out and sat down in front of his backpack digging in it without any permission. You found your knee pads and took them out with a sigh of relief. “You just saved me from running ten laps back home.”

“It’s no problem at all,” Kageyama responded with a gentle smile on his face as he admired your look. The rest of his teammates were baffled by the look of his face and how pretty you were. You seemed kind, way kinder than your older brother.

You slipped your knee pads over your shoes and comfortably on your knees. You looked up at Tobio and blushed at the soft look he was giving you, but you could tell he wanted to tell you something. “Is something wrong, Tobio?”

“Yes!” Your brother shouted standing up from the bleachers, “He’s not going to cheer for you! But don’t worry, you have me!”

“And us!” Tendou shouted from a row behind. You laughed and pushed yourself up from the floor. You weren’t going to tell them that you didn’t notice them because of your attention to your boyfriend.

“Is there a reason why you’re not going to cheer for me, Tobio?” You asked with a pout on your face and he stood up immediately to comfort you. You loved this about him, he was pretty shy, but he made sure to keep you happy.

He looked at his team then to you and explained, “They didn’t believe me when I said that my girlfriend plays for Shiratorizawa and said that if I didn’t cheer for the Karasuno girls then I wouldn’t set for three games.”

You laughed and gave Kageyama a quick hug pushing him gently back onto his seat, “Eh, don’t worry Tobio. I was just teasing you. I know I will always have your support! Anyways, what’s the bet?”

“You know about the bet?” Hinata questioned bewildered by your psychic abilities and you scoffed with a smirk on your face as you gestured over to your older brother, “Please, if my brother doesn’t force someone to bet on my skills then he’s not my Tooru.”

“We bet ten dollars,” Oikawa said and leaned back while Iwaizumi shook his head in exaggeration.

Then you rolled your eyes and fixed your knee pads a bit while saying, “I would have gone higher, older brother. But that’s okay, I hope to see you all in the finals.” You winked at Kageyama and shouted over your shoulder as you walked away, “I better not hear the both of you talking smack to one another. It throws me off my game!”

Oikawa sat back in his spot and glared at Kageyama, “Why were her knee pads at your place?”

Kageyama shrugged his shoulders and zipped up his bag. The words from you not even seconds ago being forgotten because of a cruel idea in his head. He was tired of Oikawa and this was for sure going to get him riled up.

Kageyama turned his head and smirked at Oikawa, “Maybe because she spends most of her time on her knees.”

“I dare you to say that again!” Oikawa shouted while being held back by Iwaizumi who had to hide his blush from his former teammate. He wasn't expecting Kageyama to be that bold!

“I meant what I said!” You shouted, giving a glare at your rambunctious brother.

..........

Thank you for your support and I hope this was a fun read for you because I had fun writing it!!

#x reader #anime imagine #manga imagine #x female reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x female reader #kageyama imagine #tobio x reader

82 notes · View notes

ineedrickgrimes · 24 days

Text

Chapter 3: Bonfire

(Y/N Perspective)

Before I know it, it’s nighttime and the boys are starting the bonfire. Lighting it up, all of us grabbing a glass of Gallys special recipe and sitting down with our friends having a laugh. It’s bonfire nights that I love the most for quite obvious reasons. Having a night like this where we can all just chill and relax feels great. I’m sure it feels better for the other boys because it feels like most of my time during the day is down time. I’m doing the same thing every day and few Gladers come to the med-jack hut anyway.

I’m sitting next to the Greenie with Newt on the other side of us, eating dinner. The bonfire illuminating an orange hue around us None of us really say anything for a bit and focusing on our food instead. That’s until Newt speaks up.

“Hell of a first day, Greenie,” Newt looks at the Greenie while he gives a little nod.

“Here,” Newt picks up the glass filled with Gallys special drink and hands it too him. “Put some hair on your chest,” I give Newt a look as to say what are you doing. Gallys drink is very strong, no one know what’s in it and it taste like klunk. But it’s better than nothing. The Greenie looks a bit hesitant at first but grabs the glass and take a big sip, only to spit it out. Me and Newt look at each other as I let a giggle, and he chuckles. It might be a bit mean but still funny.

“Oh, my God, what is that?” the Greenie questions and passes the glass back to Newt.

“I don’t even know,” says Newt.

“Its Gallys recipe, it’s a trade secret,” I say as Newt turns around and looks at Gally wrestling some of the Gladers, just like every other bonfire night. The boys never seem to get bored of it.

“Yeah, well, he’s still an asshole.”

“He saved your life today. Trust me, the Maze is a dangerous place.” Newt says and we all look out at the closed door and listen to the sounds of the grievers.

“We’re trapped here, aren’t we?”

“That’s until we find a way out, hopefully sooner rather than later,” Newt and the Greenie look at me, but I keep my eyes concentrated on the door.

“But” We all turn out heads around, “you see those guys, there, by the fire? Those are the runners. And that guy in the middle there, that’s Minho. He’s the keeper of the runners. Now every morning when those doors open, they run the Maze, mapping it, memorizing it, trying to find a way out.”

“How long have they been looking?” asks the greenie. “Three years,” the shock on the Greenies face is not hard to miss. Every time someone comes up from the box they hear the same things, and most of the time have the same reaction. Coming up in a random box surrounded by a bunch of boys only to find out that their stuck in here, it’s a pretty shit thing to hear.

“And they haven’t found anything?”

“It’s a lot easier said than done, listen” Newt raises his finger in the air, and we all sit there listening to the walls of the maze changing. “Hear that? That’s the Maze changing, it changes every night,” Another shocked look from the Greenie.

“How is that even possible?”

“You can ask the people who put us in here if you ever meet the bastards. Listen, the truth is, the runners are the only ones that really know what’s out there. They’re the strongest and the fastest of us all, and it’s a good things too because if they don’t make it back before those doors close, then they’re stuck out there for the night. And no one has ever survived a night in the Maze,” As per usual this topic of conversation doesn’t sit too right with the Greenies, but this ones special. He seems to be taking it a lot better than most, even after the stunt he pulled today. Walking up the doors of the maze is a ballsy move.

“What happens to them?”

“Well, we call them Grievers. Of course, no one’s ever seen one and lived to tell about it. But they’re out there.”

“Well this has turned depressing hasn’t it,” I say. I decide that this is the best time to maybe catch up with some of the other boys.

“You’re acting as if you don’t hear me say the same thing every month,” Obviously he’s right but maybe I don’t feel like hearing much more, I already know how the Maze and the Glade works.

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t depressing, I’m going to go. I’ll talk to you guys later, yeah?” I say right before I start walking off.

“I have a question for you,” says the Greenie. “What’s Up.” I answer.

“Why are you the only Girl in here, I’ve been keeping an eye out all day for another girl and I’ve yet to spot another one,” I should have seen it coming. I glance at Newt who is also waiting for the answer.

“Uhm, I don’t know why I’m the only girl. I wish I knew though, being the only girl surrounded by boys isn’t my favourite thing ever, but I guess I didn’t really have a choice.”

He nods. Thankfully, he doesn’t have any follow up questions. “Well, I’m going to go, see you guys around,” I say, and they nod their heads goodbye and I walk over to the other boys. I talk to some of them while we watch Gally fight some other boys, then I notice Newt and the Greenie get up.

I watch them as they walk around, and Newt starts pointing out the other boys and what their jobs are. Jeff and Clint walk past the other 2 boys and then Newt points at me, probably explaining that us 3 are med-jacks. They continue talking until one of the boys that Gally was fighting bumps into the Greenie almost making him fall over.

Gally looks at him “What do you say Greenie? Wanna see what you’re made of?” One of the boys start chanting, “Greenie, Greenie,” and the rest of the boys join in.

I stand up and join he circle that the boys are forming. I hate when Gally challenges a Greenie to fighting, but it’s almost impossible not to watch this all go down. I’m still never impressed with Gally’s antics.

“Okay. All right. The rules are simple, Greenie. I try to push you out of the circle. You try and last more than five seconds,” Gally says being a bastard as always. The other boys laugh. “Ready,” Gally pushes the greenie out the circle, but Zart and some other boys push him back in. Gally grabs him and throw him onto the ground. “Come on, Greenie. We’re not done yet,” says Gally.

“Stop calling me Greenie.”

“Stop calling you that? What do you wanna be called? Shank?” Everyone laughs. “What do you think, boys? Does he look like a shank?” The greenie makes a run towards Gally in an attempt to push him over, but Gally grabs onto him and pushes him back down into the ground. He gets back up.

“You know what? I think I’ve settled on shank.” Gally is nearing the edge at this point to the Greenie makes another attempt to push him out. But Gally grabs onto to him and pushes him back instead. The greenie lets go of Gally and pushes him into the ground. Pretty impressive if I do say so myself. Embarrassing Gally though, maybe not the best idea but what else could he do. I’m looking around the crows and my eyes land on Minho, and even his face shows that he impressed. The Greenie gets back up.

“Not bad for a greenie, huh?” and right as the boy finishes his sentence, Gally kicked his leg which made him fall straight back onto the ground and seems to hit his head pretty hard. All the other boys are cheering.

The greenie whispers something to himself. He gets up “Thomas. Hey. Thomas!” We all look at him pretty confused. “I remember my name. I’m Thomas!” Everyone starts surrounding him and cheering. I stand back a bit and cross my arms with a smile on my face. Me and Newt lock eyes and we smile to each other. I see through the cracks of the boy’s head and see him take another sip of moonshine, this time swallowing it. And then Gally congratulating him.

A loud screeching sound can be heard from the Grievers, and we all look over to the door, as if it’s about to burst through and kill us all. It goes silent again until Thomas speaks up. “What the hell was that.”

“That, my friend, was a Griever. Don’t worry. You’re safe here with us. Nothing gets through those walls,” Gally says.

“All right, guys. Let’s tuck it in for the night. Come on. It was a good night,” says Alby.

I start walking back over to our hammocks to go to bed, and then I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around to see Newt. “Good night, huh.”

“Yeah, I guess so. But you should tell Gally to stop challenging the Greenies. I know you guys love it but were supposed to be welcoming towards them, not scare them,” I say to Newt.

“Aww come on! It’s just a bit of fun,” Newt says while giving me a smirk. I smile back at him.

“Fun and intimidating are not the same thing, Newt.”

“Don’t worry about, Thomas was fine tonight. Y’know there’s never any real damage.”

“I guess so,” We make it back to homestead and I say goodnight to Newt before heading over to my hammock and getting it in my hammock before falling into a peaceful sleep.

Tags:@honethatty12

Sorry this took me so long to get out, I honestly don’t even know what happened. Also, so thankful that I never have to write the word Greenie ever again. Also not edited sorry for any mistakes

#newt #maze runner #newt maze runner #newt x reader #scorch trials #death cure #tbs #thomas brodie sangster

28 notes · View notes