#the tomato can fluff
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My golden boy!
🍰-nom requested: Elijah with a strong buff fem reader!!🤩🤩
Part two
Please read this webtoon because I don't have any other people that know this webtoon which is a crime btw...I recommend it to you, it's very cool!
the reader is also a boxer and russian, just like Elijah, for those who are wondering.
Your name is going to be Milana Marinova in this, alright? Write in the comments if you want another name. I will also write the way you look in my own style, as in long dark hair and big muscles.(but I don't know if I even described the reader's appearance??) And uh, my russian is not the best so if you're russian or can speak and write it, please correct me if I made a mistake on that.
Also don't believe the nonsense I'll be writing about sports and fighting because I'm a couch potato.
anyways, vocab!:
Minya savut .... = My name is ... ,
blyat = shit (<-you guys know that one already),
yisho adin! = another one! ,
poshalusta ostanoviy! = please stop!
---
"Yo, check this out Elijah!", V-Cube's voice called, pulling the russian out of his thoughts. He was beating up a punching bag, after all.
"Yeah? What's up-", and his eyes widened.
They were looking at the video of a female boxer, who made short process out of her opponent. she was beating into her opponent with a vigor that Elijah only knew when an axe, a hammer, or he used when he was angry. And the girl also did it unbelievably fast. That girl was you.
But who were you?
"Who is that?", he only asked. He had to look at you again- you were rather pretty, to be honest. Your long boxer braids were swaying according to your punches, which were quick, short, but impactful.
"That? It's Milana Marinova. She's the first female russian lightweight champion, with 35 wins and not a single loss. And she's pretty young as well. I think she's becoming 20 this year... I think."
'What? 35 wins?! And not a single loss?!?'
"Who are you guys- Mila?! Awww!", Kublai's voice exclaimed. His eyes sparkled and he looked at you through the screen with a fond expression.
How did Kublai of all people know you?
"You know her?", Elijah and V-Cube asked.
Kublai laughed. "Know her? She's my best friend! And! She told me that she'd come here after she's beating up that girl. I'm so excited! Elijah, she could also teach you how to fight! And to be honest;"
And Kublai made a dramatic pause,
"Beating up her opponents is not even warm up to her. She's wanted to fight against some of the fighters here for a long time. And tomorrow she's coming here! Aw I'm so excited!!"
'huh, that's the first time I've seen Kublai so excited...! And Milana teaching me...that could be good!'
"That would be a good idea, to be honest! I'm pumped to fight now!", the black haired boy exclaimed before he ran back to his punching bag. But all the while he was beating it up, he couldn't help but think about you.
You were rather pretty. very pretty. How you beat up that girl like it was no problem...that was hot. Or how you smirked towards the camera with your sharp canines glinting in display. Elijah shuddered.
He also tried to punch as fast as you, but his were mediocre at best when compared to yours.
...
"..li....eli....ELIJAH!!"
"AHHHH!- I'M AWAKE I'M AWAKE!!"
Right above the dark haired boy stood Kublai. His eyes were wide open, sparkling, and he had a big smile on his face. Kublai looked more scary than ever. "Wake up! She's coming today!!!"
The young boxer looked to the side, and out the window, where he couldn't see anything. "What time is it...?"
"Ten minutes past midnight!"
"What the hell, man...?", He grumbled as he turned his back to Kublai. That man only snickered before dragging him out. Elijah hit his head on the ground and hissed, to his kidnapper's joy. "Maybe that'll wake you up!"
And that's how he found himself sleepily nudging a punching bag. "...the others aren't awake, are they?"
"Nope, but Milana will come any moment now!"
"Don't you think that she'll come at a more...reasonable hour? It's barely past one-"
With a click, the back door opened, and an all too familiar face poked in. When you caught Kublai's happy stare on you, you smiled as well. After you closed the door as quietly as possible and closing it again with one of the hairpins you didn't use, you immediately yeeted yourself at Kublai.
You two giggled and whisper-yelled towards each other.
"I can't believe I'm here today! feels illegal, hihiihihihihii!"
"It's so good to see you again! What else did you to in Tokyo!?"
"I was woking on your problem, actually! But seriously, getting banned from Japan because of what you pulled?! That's not like you, Kublai!"
"I'm sorry..."
"You were rather nice with that message, I think I would've shot glass splitters at them or something!"
"Argh, why didn't I think of this?!?!", and he bonked his head.
And you two giggled like what you were talking about were crushes at a sleepover.
Kublai then lead you to Elijah, who stood where he was the whole time (🧍🏻♂️), and he blushed. You were actually...small! But you were much more pretty than what he saw on video. And you had a pretty toned body as well.
"Minya savut Milana Marinova, nice to meet you!", you spoke in russian. Elijah blinked at you. 'you were russian?! Ah-- V-Cube said that as well- Uh-'
"S-sorry, I'm not that fluent in russian..."
"Ah, thank god, me neither!"
and you two chuckled. "Say, where are your suitcases and stuff?"
"I came here alone. They'll come around 1 pm. and it's now...?"
"a few minutes past 1 am."
"So...what are we gonna do now? Eat? Or fight?"
...
"Argh- Oi- Ouch!", was all Elijah could muster up before he was met with another of your dozen punches. And they were as light as you made them to be. He made a time-out sign and you stopped. You guys were fighting without gloves.
"My punches feel like needles on your skin, don't they?"
"Yeah...but...how?"
"Because of my small fists. I don't punch you with the back of my fingers, but with my joints. Wether the ones which are more towards my hand, or even sometimes the pointsies.", you explained as you pointed towards the knuckes which started on the back of your hand, then the ones in the middle and then the tips of your fingers themselves.
"Also, I'm not that strong [-yes bitch you are], so I lay more pressure on the speed as well as vital points. Let's call them hot spots. You felt the most pain in your liver, I also go for the sternum. It's just-- my personal favourite, hehe."
"So, you like attacking the hot spots? But you punched me all over!"
"Yeah, that's because I couldn't find your weak spot. If I punched you close to your eye, it would've been critical for your fight with that Ethan guy. If I press too hard on your shoulder joints, I might dislocate them. In my opinion, you kind of remind me of a Zombie..."
"That's what Kublai said aswell!"
"Well, figures. You are also...kind of, I dunno how I should put it...not there. You're not in the fight, Elijah."
He frowned. "What do you mean? I'm totally in it!"
You shook your head as you looked up to him. "You're getting distracted by something in your head. Have you tried meditating? Maybe that'll clear your head!"
"Yeah, there is actually something that's bugging me...but meditating? you think that'll help?", he lied.
You were the one in his mind. He just couldn't fight against a pretty thing like you. He'd also gladly get his ass kicked by you if he could get so close as to take another sniff at your sweet orange perfume.
"It's worth a try!"
Cue to you, Elijah and Kublai sitting on yoga mats and meditating. As you were giving Elijah instructions on how to better his breathing, as well as when to hold his breath, Kublai was doing bizarre positions. But none of you two paid him any mind.
"Where are you imagining yourself, Elijah?"
"Fighting-"
"I thought I told you to pretend that you're in a forest."
"Ah--sorry. it's just...I don't know. I feel like I have to prove something, even when this is just an excercise...", Elijah mumbled, closing his eyes, and tightening his fists.
"I think that you're maybe too obsessed with fighting? And having to prove something such as 'Just you wait, I'll climb to the top in no time!', do you mean something like that?", you ask as you slowly stand up and go behind him.
"Yes! And I'm really trying to concentrate on meditating, but, I-I just can't-", he suddenly stopped when he felt your cold hands touch his abdomen, which twitched at the contact. A shiver went down his spine when your hand went a little lower.
"You're not even breathing right now. Are you okay?"
"Y-yeAh!", and he cursed himself for having a voice crack at the most unfortunate time. You only 'hmpf!'ed annoyedly by his lack of enthusiasm.
"You need to take this seriously, Elijah. Otherwise I can't help you. We will do some breathing excercises now.", cue to you taking a very deep breath. (he was glad that you didn't address his voice crack.)
He breathed in as deeply as possible, just like you. And as slowly as you could did you breathe out. He also tried imitating your movements, but he found it hard when you put one hand on where his heart was and the other on his diaphragm. His breath hitched.
"Sorry, I-I'll try again-", but he cut himself off when he turned his head and looked straight into your eyes. he could lose himself in them forever. You were eerie calm. You took your hands off him -much to his dismay- and sat yourself beside him.
"How about you go back to sleep? Today might be another exhausting day." "But I thought we could train-"
"How about you take a little rest? It's past three already. Try to sleep as much as possible, alright?"
How could he say no when you asked him so nicely? And he couldn't win against you anyways... So, with a defeated sigh, he stood up and took his waterbottle. "Uh. Kublai, you comin'?"
"In a minute!", his comrade said as Kublai tried to detangle himself. He truly became a human bretzel. You snickered at your best friends antics.
After Kublai managed to stand upright after being free, he jogged over to Elijah. "Mila, is it okay if I leave the tidying to you?"
"Sure thing, here's nothing but yoga mats anyway!"
"Okay, see you later!"
"Bye! And get some rest, you two!"
And after Kublai closed his door, he looked at Elijah with mischievousness. "You like her."
The russian spluttered. "W-wha-!?! No! W-what makes you s-say that!??!", Elijah laughed awkwardly.
Kublai acted like he thought it through. Then he grinned at Elijah.
"Well, for one, she's really pretty to begin with. Two, everybody with at least one half braincell could tell you were enjoying her touching you -even when you made her mad in the process- and three, you didn't ask "who?". That means that you like Milana."
Dang it. 'Is my crush on her that obvious? I don't even know her that well!'
"A...and what if I do...?She must have a boyfriend by now-"
"She has yet to smile at a boy other than us. And well, you can guess yourself lucky that we're the first two who she smiled at. Should I tell you the story on how I met her?! It's the funniest thing ever!"
Elijah sighed, and nodded with a heavy blush. He still couldn't believe that he fell for someone he didn't even know properly. All he knew from you was your name, age, and that you won 35 times, with no losses.
"I think it was in a small village, close to the caspian sea-"
"Where's that?"
"...don't you have geography??"
"uh, about that-"
"In russia, you oaf. Anyways, as I was saying -but got rudely interrupted by you- (Kublai pouted at Elijah with a frown to which the younger male apologized sheepishly) I met her when she was, maybe sixteen? Yeah, something around that age I met her. She beat up a few men who were actually five times stronger than her. But she still managed to beat them. She also didn't really look like the other villagers around her. She looked rather european, so I approached her in english and asked why she beat those guys up. Mila just answered that they were looking at her mother funny.
And not only that. I could see that she didn't really know how to use those fists, she needed to control them. Do you want to see a pic I took of the beat up men?!"
"Ah, s-sure..."
After a few seconds of Kublai scrolling down his gallery, did he tap on one picture with three overweight, grotesque looking men. It wasn't their normal look, but what you did do them. One's eye seemed to have reached it's brain. The other one on the ground seemed to have no teeth at all -maybe because you punched right in his mouth? Because of your small fists?- and the third one's nose was also smashed. And not only their faces were deformed. Their legs were in unhuman angels, from one of the mens' ears came blood, and the other man's arms were rolled together.
Did you put them into a tornado? There's no way a sixteen year old girl like you could've done that!! Kublai sensed his disbelief. He swiped to the right, where he clicked on a video.
It showed you beating up those thugs. In the background people were shouting, and your mother, he guessed, called your name in a desperate and pleading manner.
"poshalusta ostanoviy Milana!", your mother yelled, but you seemed deadset on making those guys suffer. He saw then how you turned one guy's arm into litreal flour. [don't ask how/me, just imagine being badass and doing shit like that]
After the video ended, Kublai looked at Elijah's terrified expression. He laughed. "welp, that's Mila when she was sixteen. Now she's a killing mashine. I can say with pride that I was the one who got her into wrestling.
And, well, she became something like a little sister to me. And you should've been there when I tried to persuade her parents to join me in my travelling. I-I still have no idea how I managed to do that, but what's counting is that she's with us!"
Elijah thought back to when you and Kublai giggled upon your meet-up. You two acted like siblings, that was for sure.
"I'm glad too. Now I have her as an ace up my sleeve and she can teach me cool tricks! I'll beat Ethan in no time!"
"That's what I want to hear! And now back to you crushing on her!"
Elijah flinched and felt his cheeks warm up. "C-c'mon, man, I'm not-"
"if you dare to touch her in any way other than training, I will have no other choice but to rip out your throat, your heart, and pop your balls."
Kublai smiled at the russian with an innocent smile after that. elijah didn't know who he was more terrified of now. You, or your "older brother"?
...
"So...you're Milana Marinova? The chick who beat 35 people?"
"Oh, I actually beat wayyyy more people than 35, Mr. Rumsfeld, but yeah!"
The Alpha-male laughed heartily. "Ahahahaha, of course you'd beat more people-"
"She actually killed a few!", Kublai chimed in. You smiled up at the man in front of you innocently.
His smile strained as he looked down on you. He started to sweat a little. "R-really?"
"I had to serve as a bounty hunter. To my defense, I only killed like...thirteen?", you looked over to Kublai.
"Fourteen."
"Fourteen men. And they were Rapists, Child molesters and overall just very bad guys."
"Y-you're joking...right?", the mullet-man said, unsure if he felt safe around you or not.
I mean, you were what, twenty? You were basically still a child...! And why does Kublai know about your past?! Are you two siblings or something???
But you just smiled at him. Then you broke out in giggles. Rumsfeld was scared of a little girl. Take that, "Alpha male".
A blonde boy came up to you then, holding a notebook with a marker. "Um, M-miss Marinova? Privyet, minya savut-"
"Vasily Vadymovych Vovchanchyn, da? It's a pleasure to meet you.", you smiled, extending your hand towards the taller male. You actually knew him because you watched his tournaments. And because you watched the first few episodes, where they got interviewed. You cooed when you saw a smiling Vasily. He was one of the "cute" fighters if the tournament. Your judgement.
"You're a master of sport in combat sambo, right? Can you teach me a view tricks of yours?"
But Vasily only blushed. He couldn't believe that his favourite female fighter recognized him on the spot. Let alone spelled his name correctly on the first try. Or even asked him about his fighting. Vasily thought he could die happy now. "Ah! S-sure..! eh-", he only made out as you gently took his notebook from him and the marker as well. You wrote your name in nomal...and what was that other thing you drew-
Milana Marinova <3
'A heart?! Does she like me perhaps?! NO! I-I don't even know her, I mean I do! But maybe she just meant it platonically! Yeah, that might be it!', Vasily thought before you gave him back his belongings. For a brief moment, your fingers touched, and Vasily flinched. His body went into overheat and he knew that he was sweating an awful lot.
You quickly retracted your hands. "Sorry, can't really warm my cold hands.", you chuckled as you did jazz-hands. The blonde only shook his head no. "I-It's alright, really!"
Elijah watched you two with a weird feeling in his stomach. He respected Vasily, but he didn't like how the blonde blushed and was acting all shy with you. And you weren't even against it. Maybe you were into blondes...?
...
"Yesho adin, Elijah!"
"What does that even mean?!-Ouch!"
"Another one, and now stop asking questions and let me catch these hands!"
Again, Elijah got beat up by you. Mr. Trevor, Elijah's coach, was glad that you were there to help at first, but regretted it when he saw how brutal you "trained" with his fighters. Mr. Trevor didn't even want to fight against you himself.
"A-ah, Milana, how about you be a little...tamer with him?"
"But Uncle, I am holding the receiving gloves, while Elijah is the one who has the boxing gloves...how much more tame can I be?"
"How about...you don't verbally abuse him?"
You looked at Elijah. "Did I verbally abuse you? If yes, then sorry."
Elijah pouted at Mr. Trevor. "She's not verbally abusing me!", and he huffed. But, Mr. Trevor could see a tinge of red dusting his fighter's cheeks. He stood a little too close to you, he also crouched so that he could be a little closer to your eye level. The trainer then looked at you, who looked at him and Elijah with an uneasy smile.
A lightbulb switched on in Mr. Trevor's head.
'So that's why you're acting like a brat...'
With raised hands in a giving-up motion, Trevor clears his throat. "Sorry, I shouldn't interrupt this little session you have with her.", Mr. Trevor said while having a fatherly grin which didn't mean good news. Elijah flinched and got a red face. With flailing hands and a slightly raised voice did Elijah try to make the older man stay, but to no avail.
"I-it's not what you think! I-"
"Safe it! I'll ask Kublai about it!"
"Wait, DON'T- aaannnd he left.", the russian deadpanned.
You chuckled awkwardly. "Uhm, what was that just now?"
Elijah seemed to be a scaredy-cat, because he flinched again, to which you flinched. "Eli-" "Sorry! Coach Trevor doesn't know what he's talking about!"
You would've understood it better if the boy in front of you waved his hand around dismissively and laughed.
But no. Elijah stared at you like he was being held at gunpoint as he explained his coach's behavior.
"Ou-kay?", you said in an asking tone, before you raised your hands this time. "Wanna keep training or do you want to take a break?"
"Uh--let's train-" *BONK* "...seriously?"
You bonked him with one of your receiving gloves. "We were training for about three hours now, Elijah. Eat and drink something, it's going to be lunchtime soon, alright?"
The boy nodded with a defeated sigh. "Say, Milana...I-I wanted to ask you something. And I don't want to sound rude or anything, I'm just curious! And, well, if you don't want to answer then it's fine with me too! I mean, I'd like to ask you a personal question, although I don't know if it even is personal or not? I just-"
"Gosh, Elijah, I'm not going to bite your head of for one little question.", you exclaimed as you pulled the gloves off. You then helped him take his off too. When you were done, you looked into his eyesand you noticed what a beautiful touch of blue they were.
you also noticed his right brow which was shorter than the left. You wanted to know the story behind it. Otherwise, you found it kinda cute...Elijah was actually kinda cute...and handsome-
'Was Elijah always this good-looking...?'
"What I wanted to ask was---why are you fighting, like--wh-what is your reason?!"
"Do you really want to know?", you said. But something seemed...off. Why was your tone so...suggestive?
Elijah felt his cheeks heat up as you stepped closer. "Y-yes...!", the boy stuttered, and although he had a bigger body than you, he felt himself shrinking by your uh, gaze? You just stepped closer to him until his back met the wall.
"M-Milana-", but you shushed him as your head came close to his ear. He could smell your light smell of sweat (he must've been stinking then), he could count your droplets of sweat on your shoulder, and he felt overall a little overstimulated as you did something somilar as a kabedon. Your light breath reached his ear and he shuddered involuntarily. 'What are you-'
"If you want to know why I am fighting, then...wait until the author finds motivation to keep writing."
---
part two, shortblackdiamond's analysis on the webtoon
Hey hEy heY! How are my fellow readers?! Here, I have written the first part/episode with a buff reader! If you want to, just write in the comments if you'd like a second part!
Read you in the next post!
P.s. please read the webtoon I'm looking for people to simp over some characters of it, specifically Elijah😫😫😭😭😭
#i love you 🍰nom#elijah x reader fluff#elijah zelenoff#the tomato can x reader#the tomato can x male reader#the tomato can webtoon#the tomato can x you#the tomato can#kublai khan x reader#ttc x you#elijah x reader#elijah x y/n#the tomato can fluff#kublai khan#the tomato can elijah#elija zelenoff#please ttc content#ttc#guys please I'm a simp for the mc#like you don't understand#he's a golden boyyyyy#Vasily Vadymovych Vovchanchyn x reader#Vasily Vadymovych Vovchanchyn x you#Vasily Vadymovych Vovchanchyn x female reader#V-Cube x reader
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this is a rebel love song | e.m. | 18+ ONLY!!!
eddie munson x fem!reader
summary: a (not depicted) detention lands you right were you want to be, a sex riddled weekend with your crush. the only problem is you’ve got it bad for him and now the weekend is coming to an end. are you ready for things to go back to the way they were or do you want more..?
warnings/kinks: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI, smut, dacryphilia, mutual pining, pet names, princess, fingering, porn with plot (kinda), praise!kink, possessiveness, unprotected sex, p in v, light breeding!kink, sprinkle of perv!eddie, cum/ass eating, fluff fluff fluff!
word count: 7k+
note: when I say I’m over it, I mean it. this beast got away from me entirely. it’s a dumpster fire and I’m extremely nervous as it’s my first *full* fic I’ve ever posted on here. I couldn’t trash the ol’girl tho so here y’all go.
just as a little disclaimer, I am 100% dyslexic and have a pretty rough time with grammar. (apologizes) all comments and general criticisms are very much welcome, but totally not expected!!
A delicate strand of hair fell from over your shoulder, obscuring your view as you sat with one knee pressed into your chest and the other lazily outstretched across Eddie Munson’s comforter.
Unconsciously you replaced the lock behind your ear, turning the page on the DnD magazine you had been scanning through absentmindedly.
“You know you’re kinda beautiful, right?”
You looked up to see Eddie staring at you from the other end of the room. The early morning sunlight that seeped in through the thin curtains bathing him in a warm glow, turning his brown doeish eyes into a beautiful shade of gold.
“It’s rude to talk about yourself like that all the time,” you said, playfully leaning forward and placing your elbows on the bed. You rested your chin in the palms of your hands as you stared at him.
He really had no idea how long you had pined for him. How your body had screamed at nearly every instance of even somewhat close proximity. He had been the bane of your existence for what felt like an eternity and now here you were, a detention of all things having brought you together.
“Shut up!” he chuckled, a cocky grin plastering itself across his face.
“You know you’re the pretty one!” You raised your eyebrows, sticking your tongue out before giving him a soft sweet smile.
Suddenly Eddie’s flirtatious nature faltered, his expression becoming thoughtful. You didn’t understand it entirely, and to your misfortune, just as quickly as it had come it was gone.
“Mmm nope!” he pressed his lips together in a hard line. “I don’t think so.”
Standing up from where he’d been digging through his dresser, he shook his head, waving his hands around. A mischievous, albeit slightly devilish smile tugging at the corners of his full lips.
Almost instinctively you closed the magazine you’d already half forgotten about, throwing it on the nightstand before looking back at him, watching tentatively as he stalked towards you.
You couldn’t help but admire how the thin black cut off he had slept in clung to his chest and biceps. Or how his flannel boxers had ridden lower on his hips than you remembered. The outline of his huge endowment, evident beneath.
“I hate to break it to ya, princess,” Eddie sucked on his teeth, “but you're the hottie of the relationship.”
He came to stand directly beside you, and you quickly averted your eyes from where they had been burrowing into his underwear, your cheeks heating with embarrassment.
Swinging your short legs off the bed you intended to stand, but almost immediately he engulfed you, his hips locking you into place underneath him as he straddled your knees.
You swallowed hard, a soft chuckle reverberating through his chest as he watched your once collected expression morph into that of desire. Before you could say or do anything however, he began to ghost the tips of his fingers across the tops of your bare thighs.
Instantly a tingling sensation spread like wildfire through your body, his large ring clad hands coming to rest on either side of you as he lowered his towering frame, his palms pressing firm into the mattress.
You were stunned as you began to feel his weight hit you, a slick heat pooling low in your gut. But right before his lips could find yours you found yourself compelled to scurry back up the bed.
Lingering just far enough away that he couldn’t kiss you, yet still close enough to feel his hot breath skate over your skin, you tilted your head. His confused, yet beautiful stare meeting yours.
“So a relationship’s what we're calling it now?”
You knew what you were doing, fighting the sickly feeling that you’d steadily beaten back for two solid days. You’d tried to tell yourself it would only hurt more the longer you kept things going. The inevitably of normalcy the following morning when you passed each other in the halls or class like nothing had happened your own personal plight to bear. The part of you that saw reason though shrunk by the second around him.
In an act of defiance you leaned in just far enough that your lips could graze his.
“Well?” You breathed into him, watching as a rumble built in his chest at your teasing.
Eddie looked down at you through a hazy lust filled gaze, his breath catching short as his large brown eyes fluttered closed.
His long lashes kissed his cheeks as his soft pink lips separated ever so slightly. He was so incredibly delicious to witness you found yourself awestruck by him even as you tried being the instigator.
Suddenly, his eyes flew back open, surprising you as he appeared to recover entirely. Titling his own head, he looked at you strangely, his posture mirroring yours, but in an over the top and extravagant way.
“Well, ya? We're like together-together now.” he chuckled, looking between you and the wall.
A vacant expression glossed over your face as his dark curly hair cascaded down over his shoulders. You were entirely unsure as to whether you should take him seriously or not. The part of you that wanted so deeply for him, the part that hoped against hope, raging inside the confines of your mind.
Eddie seemed to notice your struggle despite your best efforts at trying to remain composed. Bumping his nose into yours lightly, he attempted to call your attention back to him.
“M’not kidding with you, babe,” his eyes grew wide as his mouth fell open, one of his hands coming to drag a piece of his hair over his face.
“What? You scared to cross over to the dark side and be known as the town freak’s girl?”
The spell his words had over you broke instantly and you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes at him, becoming aware that he was, in fact, fucking with you.
Still.. there was a part of you that couldn’t help but wonder why he shifted his weight back and forth, why he looked at you almost nervously?
Shaking your head, you forced yourself to snap out of it, realizing that the oddity of his behavior had probably been conjured up entirely by your imaginative subconscious.
Against your better judgment, you decided to entertain his little game. Tenderly wrapping your arms around his neck before pulling him on top of you.
His lips found yours within seconds, kissing you with a dominating and forceful, but also somehow gentle passion.
You couldn’t help but to whimper brokenly when he began to part with you, his mouth claiming you in an entirely new way as he came to nip and kiss at your jaw.
You didn’t think you’d ever get enough of it, enough of him. The room almost appearing to breathe as your desire-addled mind struggled to make sense of anything other than his delicate yet ravenous kisses.
“Jesus you’re a cheap date, Munson,” you told him as he came to suck at the spot just below your ear. “I spend a couple nights over and you’re already trying to get me to join forces with you?”
You continued with your charade, desperately playing off how badly you wanted for him and for that very thing.
“Yup, couldn’t think of a better recruitment method if I tried.” he responded jovaly, his small smile breaking against your skin.
The sheer base of his voice was more than enough to send a shiver of pleasure to your core. And he, of course, knew what he had done to you. Even if he didn’t entirely understand the context of why it turned you inside out.
Capturing your lips with his again, Eddie wasted no time stalling your attempt at recovery, moaning deeply into your mouth as his tongue explored every inch of you. The taste of his toothpaste and the morning's first cigarette clinging to him just as much as you did.
You were almost too encapsulated by the way in which he lapped at your bottom lip to notice when his heavy hands moved from the sheets and slipped seamlessly under your shirt.
“Mmm,” he whispered against your flush face, his fingertips leaving a map of goosebumps wherever they went. “I like this.”
You watched through your own lustful gaze as his eyes gestured down between you and the ripped and largely oversized Iron Maiden shirt he had given you to wear.
“You like seeing me in your clothes?” Your brows furrowed lightly. “Why?”
Unfazed Eddie relinquished you from the hold his mouth had over your brain. Dragging the bridge of his nose down your neck as his eyelashes tickled your throat.
“Because,” he breathed.
You felt his hands slip away, trailing further and further down your sides before finally grabbing fistfuls of your hips.
“Because why?” you asked him, shivering as he pressed his nose along your chest, your question lingering in the air between you as you felt his growing bulge press into your thigh.
As much as you tried to focus you couldn’t stop your hips from bucking up against him. The stiffness of his cock against you collapsing your chest as well as your mind.
“Because..” he trailed off, pecking your collar bone before slowly bringing his lips to your ear.
”You're my girl and I like seeing you in it.”
Abruptly Eddie sat upright, tucking you into his chest as he crawled across the bed, moving the two of you to the far corner.
A shocked gasp racked through your body as you felt hot tears spring to the corners of your eyes.
You hadn’t expected that answer, and you realized it had been a calculated mistake assuming you could handle his overpowering presence, a mistake nonetheless though.
Unable to deny it anymore, you felt your resolve break against the wall that was him, your carefully constructed composure shattering into a million different pieces as he settled you into his lap.
“Hey what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, propping himself up against the wall.
Suddenly you felt very raw and exposed, dropping your head as you willed the moisture in your eyes to dissipate. When they refused to leave you sighed, placing the palms of your tiny hands on his chest.
“It’s nothing,” you said.
Flexing your fingers you tried distracting yourself, tracing the outline of the pick necklace he always wore.
“It’s absolutely not nothing?” Eddie called you out, fear and worry cloaking his voice. “We can stop if you want to, s’ok, I promise.”
When you didn’t respond he placed his forehead against yours, forcing you to look at him as his hair tickled your face. You felt his eyes stare deeply into you as more tears brimmed at your waterline.
He really would be your undoing.
“No it’s not that, it’s just,” you paused, at war with yourself as you choked back a sob. “Do you really mean that?”
Your voice came out so temedly at first you didn’t think he had heard it. But as he pulled back from you he blinked.
“What? The shirt thing?” His brows knit together. You could visibly see your words bouncing around inside his skull.
You nodded, still refusing to meet his eye. You were outright ashamed that you were actually speaking to him about how you felt. After all, you had only very recently started up your little ‘relationship’ with him. Now you weren’t even allowing it a moment to breathe before completely unraveling the whole thing over a crush you had secretly harbored for him forever.
A short silence passed between the two of you as Eddie blinked again. A look unlike anything you had ever seen crossing his face.
“Wait, do you want me to mean it?” His voice went several octaves higher than normal, his tone absolutely saturated with a mixture of both genuineness and mischief.
“Maybe,” you admitted, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to hide your own emotion.
The click in his mind was almost audible as you slowly felt his hand sliding up to cup your face.
“Aww, baby..” Eddie whined at you, his fingers on your cheek petting you gently. “Look at me please, let me see those pretty eyes for a second.”
Begrudgingly you obeyed him, his intrusive stare searching yours, looking for something so closely guarded by your heart that you almost refused to let him see.
“Does someone really wanna be my girl?” He skated the pad of his thumb over your lips as he spoke, the other coming to snake across your shoulder, resting at the back of your head as his fingers brushed through your hair.
You truly couldn’t help the way your mouth fell open or the way your breath stuck in your throat. You fought back another sob as you felt yourself clench and ache for him.
“You really do wanna be the town freak’s girl, don’tcha, princess?”
Eddie began to smile hungrily at you, turning his head so that he could look down at you from underneath hooded eyes.
You gasped, several tears slipping free and falling down your face. Whatever consequences were to follow be damned. You would have killed and maimed and tortured for the man that sat beneath you. The fire that he created within your soul and the apex of your thighs driving you to near insanity.
“I do!” you cried, your dam breaking as more tears of desire fell from you. “Pleaseee, make me yours, Eds! I wanna be yours so bad!”
An earth shattering smile lit up his face at your near incomprehensible response. From between your legs you felt his cock twitch. A truly primal and greedy sound ripping from his throat as he came to suck and pull at the flesh at the base of your neck.
The press of his teeth biting into your too warm skin created an almost indescribable ecstasy within you. His hands all but turning you into a withering, muling, convulsing mess of need as he shoved them back under your shirt, tugging and pawing at your touch starved breast.
“Poor baby, s’no need to cry,” he coode, outright pillaging and burning every ounce of you with his wet sucking kisses.
“You thought I was joking with you, hmm?” his hands moved from your tits, sliding across your ribs as his long fingers nearly interlaced across your back. “But I wasn’t.. Wanted you all to myself too, my sweet girl..”
Gripping you tightly to himself, Eddie ground his stiff cock up into your heat, a soft growl escaping him as you felt his length rutting into you. Another of his kisses sloppily invading your mouth as he rocked you back and forth on top of him.
After a few bated moments, his grip finally came to loosen, his eyes falling closed as he inhaled deeply through his nose.
Guideding you backwards, he laid you between his spread legs, your hips becoming trapped beneath his arms as your shirt rode up, exposing your black cotton panties to him along with all of your shame.
“Ahh- Would you look at that,” Eddie opened his eyes, drawing out his words as he hurriedly pulled his palms out from under you.
One heavenly hand came to rest on the skin of your belly, pressing flat as the metal of his rings sent sparks all across your skin. His other hand traveled much further down, coming to inspect the large damp spot you had produced between your legs.
You didn’t know why or how you found the brain cells to speak to him, but before you realized it you felt the words tumbling from your lips.
“You really wanna be with me too, Eds?”
You felt yourself nearly scream as he slid his middle finger down your center, pressing it into your folds through the fabric of your underwear.
“Yeah baby, have ever since I first saw you,” he answered without thinking.
“Wha-” Your shock lodged itself in your chest as his scorching touch overwhelmed you, his finger stroking your cunt yet again.
“We’re in Mrs. O'donnell's class together, member?” His tongue darted out briefly from between his tight lips. “Saw you reading one of my favorite books at the start of the year.”
He paused dramatically for a heartbeat. “Y’know you talk without realizing it sometimes, like when you’re reeeally invested in something?”
His voice was the only thing that could have pulled your mind from its sex riddled grave.
Unable to speak, you shook your head no, his lazy and effortless stokes destroying you.
“But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered..” He began reciting what he had apparently heard you say all that time ago.
You listened to him recount the memory intently, mimicking first you then how he imagined the character to sound. You were sure he was almost completely unaware that to you his voice was all consuming, so playful, so full of lust, so maddening.
When he paused, your eyes locked with his, a single one of his fingers slipping under the seam at the side of your panties.
“Usually their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t,” he cocked his head to the side before a downright demonic expression took over him.
Suddenly you couldn’t hear anything at all. Without realizing it he had turned his hand over so that his palm faced the ceiling, his same finger sliding down your slit before plummeting inside of you.
A racket gasped burst from your chest, your wet lashes fluttering against your checks as you bit back more tears. You could feel yourself squeeze around him, your swollen walls still tender and bruised from the night before.
Leaning slightly over your body, Eddie's voice came back to you, a softer, more compassionate tone replacing the one from before.
“Shhh, s’ok sweet girl. I know-I know.” He pressed down lightly on your stomach with the palm that still resided there.
“You started to cry that day in class too.. just like now,” his chest heaved. “Don’t think you even knew you’d started reading out load..”
You felt his finger beginning to move between your legs, curling softly back as he stroked your insides, his thumb making its way to your clit, still shielded by the cloth of your panties, circling it with only the lightest of touches.
“But I knew,” he said, slowly withdrawing his hand just far enough to pair a second digit with the first.
“It’s when I decided I never wanted to see you cry like that again.” His hips brushed up lightly into the air between you, his aching cock begging for attention but he refused to pay it any mind.
“Not unless it was because you were being stretched out by my thick fucking cock,” he whispered, thrusting into your cunt and curling his fingers in just the right way, hitting that special spot deep within you.
You felt your back arch and your eyes roll back into your head. The thralls of your orgasam sudden and devastating as your hips stuttered against his hand.
Eddie didn’t relent however, his merciless hand bring you higher and higher off the bed, his fingers contorting inside of you as he forcefully carried you through your pleasure.
At some point during it all a part of you realized he liked seeing you like this. A helpless little puppet forced to dance on past its limits by the strings of its master.
“That’s my girl,” Eddie moaned, a gutteral impenetrable sound. “That’s my good girl!”
After a time you realized he had begun to still inside you, your mind little by little breaking through the barrier your release had caused. You became aware that his other hand that had been on your belly had moved and was now helping to drop you back down onto his stained sheets.
Sliding from within you gently, Eddie brought his fingers to his face, inspecting them as your juices beaded and connected the two fingers that your body had just claimed.
“Did such a good job for me..” he said and you became a woman absolutely possessed as you sat upright, witnessing with your own two eyes how he pressed his middle and ring finger delicately between his lips, sucking them into his mouth as he stared at you with half open eyes tasting you on his skin.
You were on top of him before you could fully process what you were doing, your hand gripping the throbbing bulge at the front of his boxers. You needed to touch him, to feel him.
Wrapping your hand around his cock through his underwear, your free arm came to rest at the back of his head, your nails digging into his hair.
“Mine,” you said, unsure rather you were phrasing it as a question or a statement.
Eddie let his hand fall from his mouth, limply bring it to rest on the curve of your ass before squeezing it lightly. A breathless toothy smile enraptured his face as you pressed the tip of your thumb over his throbbing head, precum staining his clothing.
“All yours, baby.” His head lolled back into your grasp as your hand traced his length, slipping inside his waistband before giving him a gentle pump.
“Ah-” Eddie’s mouth fell open, his thighs twitching as you brought him out. “Oooh,” he breathed, helping you remove his boxers before you took him again.
Your touch was ironclad, stroking him from stem to stern in long sweeping motions, the soft skin of his veiny cock like velvet beneath your palm.
Occasionally you’d lean over to let spit dribble from your mouth onto his swollen tip, the pill of his moans and gasps rivaling the very voice of God as you did so.
When Eddie’s expression become tortured, his panting breaths desperate as he rutted into your hold helplessly, you finally relinquished him.
Dragging your hands away, you brought them to tug at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head.
His mouth laid claim to yours as he sat up, taking you with him as he hooked his thumbs into your panties, his calloused hands scaling down your thighs as he slid them off.
When you tried to remove your shirt, he outright refused to allow you to, bodily pulling you into him.
Sitting back up against the wall Eddie tucked his legs underneath him, bringing yours to wrap around his waist at the ankle.
You were absolutely captivated as your tongues explored each other. The sounds of your lust, depraved and sickening. The bruising kisses you placed onto each and every one of his tattoos turning his body into a live wire as you cemented yourself to him.
Leaning you back over the bed, one of his strong arms came to cradle you against his chest, the head of his cock slipping lightly in between the lips of your cunt as he rocked himself into you.
“I need to be inside you, baby,’ he said, his tongue darting out from his mouth as he thrusted.
“My sweet girl gonna let me inside her?” His voice trailed off as he became consumed by where his thoughts had led him.
“Let me stretch her out..”
You threw your head back, his mouth coming to claim your throat as he whimpered against your skin, the sounds he made pleading.
“Fill her up.. show her she’s mine..?”
“Please, Eds!” You cried, your hips grinding down into him beggingly.
Eddie made an exasperated sound as he took himself in hand, lining his head with your sopping entrance, slipping inside just far enough to make you groan.
“Are you sure you're ready for me, baby?” The restraint he had was masterful, but you could feel him trembling against you, his voice cracking.
“Pleeasse!” You almost screamed and Eddie answered, pushing himself forward, inch by agonizing inch sinking deep within you until you were mounted at his hilt.
“Fuckk,” he gasped, his grip around you faltering for just a moment.
When he recovered he coiled his arm up and around your back, his hand coming to cling at the nap of your neck. With his other he braced the two of you over the bed keeping your figures suspended.
“Still can’t believe how fucking tight you are, babe!”
Moisture collected in the corner of your eyes. It hurt badly being that full, and you were already so painfully sore. His girth truly made you believe as though you were being torn in half, but it was only in the best and most delicious of ways. The sting and the pleasure melding together into one.
You felt a single tear escape you, slipping silently down your cheek. Before you could brandish it away Eddie’s lips captured it between the corner of your mouth and chin.
Embarrassment flooded you all at once, you didn’t want him to think he was too much, even if he had already said otherwise. You wanted this. You needed it! You didn’t think you could have gone another second on this earth without it.
“I’m sorry E-“ you began to say. But before you could finish he was cutting you off.
“Shhh, s’ok,” he mumbled.
His hips, which had remained still since he buried himself within you, began to move. The time allowed almost enough for you to accommodate his massive size.
“Told you..” he fought for control of himself, “this is the only time I wanna see you cry over me.” He used the leverage he had on your neck to bring you crashing down onto him.
Suddenly his cock hit your spot, another tear tumbling down your face as he moved his lips to claim that one too.
“Ahhh,” his moan was ethereal, “Fuck, my baby looks so fucking pretty when she cries on my dick.”
Gasping he worked himself into you. His thrusts unyielding even as slowly as they came, before long you were a train wreck of sobbing tears and want. You knew there would never be another for you. No one could ever come close to the ways in which he ripped you apart and put you back together with pieces of himself.
You felt your belly begin to tighten and your walls choke him. You were so close to yet another release that your lips quivered, your swollen bud bumping against his stomach with each and every thrust.
“Is my girl gonna cum for me?” Eddie placed kisses against the skin around the collar of your shirt, sensing your impending doom.
You couldn’t speak, the hot white light searing behind your closed eyes nearly strangling you as your nails bit into his back.
“You gotta cum for me, baby. “Can’t give my pretty girl what she wants until she cums.”
He withdrew from inside you almost completely, hammering his cock back into your cunt once.. twice.. three times..
That was it. That was all it took.
You felt yourself fall headfirst into yet another orgasam. Your chest heaving as your hips seized.
“Eddddiee!” you called his name, your voice almost unrecognizable even to your own ears as he pressed you into his chest.
Sitting up, the hand that had been bracing both of you against the bed snaked under his other, attaching itself to you at your waist.
“That’s it, that’s it! I got you, sweetheart!” Eddie hissed, his pace quickening only slightly as you clung to him, your gummy walls convulsing around him.
“Gonna show you how much I really want you-” he panted, the greed in his tone almost violent “-how you belong to me!”
His ruts punctuated each word he spoke, his motion becoming uncontrolled as the sound of your bodies slapping into each other filled the quiet trailer.
“Gonna fill you up,” he spat at you through gritted teeth “let you know you're my fucking girl- you’re my fuckin-”
An outright suffocated gasp cut him off, his cock twitching as you felt thick ropes of cum painting your insides. He didn’t stop immediately, he couldn’t, fucking into you steadily before eventually slowing and stilling altogether.
Your brain was fuzzy and your body exhausted, but your heart still fluttered in your chest as he nestled his face between your breasts, breathing you in deeply as he came down, his soft content sigh filling the musty air around you.
After a moment the arms that still held you in his lap tightened, embracing you in a bone crushing hug as you wrapped your arms around his head, your fingers tangling into his messy hair.
Tipping you onto the bed, Eddie laid you both on your side. He was still inside you, and he didn’t appear to want to change that anytime soon. Every once in awhile purposefully twitching his cock, messaging his cum into your walls and making you jump.
There was a blissful quiet that passed between the pair of you, his face eventually snuggling into your neck before pulling away so that he could kiss your chin.
“Wasn't exactly how I wanted to do that, but I’ll take it,” he said, his eyes were hardly open, but his smile was sappy.
You knew he was being absolutely petulant, but you admitted, if only to yourself, that your were over the moon.
“I thought you were just being arrogant.” you told him, a touch anxious.
Eddie laughed softly to himself. “Naw, that’s not my style babe, despite what people may think.”
He wagged his eyebrows at you boyishly and your heart almost stopped. You were completely and utterly enamored with this guy and the whole time he had been blatantly confessing his own desire for you.
“Did you ever think that getting a detention would land us here?” you asked him, petting through his thick sweaty hair.
“Never would have guessed.” he mumbled, finally allowing himself to slide free from you, giving one last thrust back into your cunt before wrapping you up in another tight hug.
You winced at his exit. A seeping feeling between your legs leaving you dazed and more than a little breathless.
“Might have always wanted something like it to happen though,” he said, “but you didn’t hear that from me.”
You laughed as you hugged him back, suddenly being drawn out as he looked at you curiously.
“Wait, hold on a minute?” he looked at you pointedly, “How long have you had it bad for Eddie ‘the freak Munson?”
You felt your cheeks heat immediately, turning away from him to hide your awkwardness. He didn’t allow you to get far, his face nuzzling into your reddened skin as he peppered kisses across your face.
“No you’re gonna answer my question, can’t just leave me hanging here.” Eddie broke away from you, rubbing his nose along the side of your cheek, bringing his index finger up to tap yours lightly on the tip before resting his thumb on the side of your jaw.
“Mines definitely not as-” you struggled, looking down at his bare chest, becoming distracted as you traced the bruie you had left on his spider tattoo, “-hot as yours?“
“S’ok, I just wanna know,” he said.
His big beautiful brown eyes watched you patiently. It was clear he was genuinely invested in what you had to say and it left you feeling overwhelmed.
Rolling onto your back and away from him, you placed your arms above your head, folding them under you as you looked up at the dirty roof.
“It was my sophomore year and I had just moved here.” You thought back on that day and how vividly the memory had stuck with you.
“I got lost looking for one of my classes and I somehow ended up in the drama room.”
You looked over at him, biting the inside of your lip as you saw him fight as hard as any one man could to remember something that had taken place nearly 3 year prior.
When it became clear that he had no idea what you were talking about, you laughed.
“Don’t hurt yourself, I didn’t actually talk to you that day. Or really ever, not until we met in detention that is.”
A curious expression clouded Eddie’s face as he propped himself up on one elbow.
“Why not?” He asked, tilting his head.
“Well.. if I’m being honest I didn’t even noticed you at first. I was too busy realizing someone was setting up for a DnD game to comprehend that you were there,” you giggled.
“I had played back home and it was..” You didn’t know why you suddenly became nervous but it stifled you as you tried to continue.
“I-It was the first time since I left that I felt like everything was gonna maybe be okay. Like there was some sliver of hope that I would fit in here.”
You felt your face fall slightly unable to look at him even as you sensed his unwavering attention.
“That’s when all your friends came in, I don’t think anyone even noticed me. B-But that’s when I finally saw you..”
Your eyes went wide, speaking as if you’d seen the sun for the very first time and were trying to describe it to another by memory.
“I-I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak. I had absolutely no fucking idea what to do, you were just so..”
You chuckled breathlessly, at a loss for words. You knew how embarrassing it all sounded and if he had looked at you oddly you most likely would have never recovered.
“I left as fast as I could after that. I found out more about the Hellfire Club later, but by then I had already built you up too much in my head and scared myself out of trying to join.. I spent the next couple of years with my eyes either glued to you or avoiding you like the plague.”
From beside you Eddie remained quiet for some time, a snicker building within him until it was erupting from his belly causing him to shake and rattle the bed.
“What?” You asked, your own laughter a mixture of confusion and contagiousness.
“Your just so fucking cute!” Eddie sighed, his face wrinkling as his laughter faded.
Your heart skyrocketed into your throat as he leaned over to kiss you. The first time chaste, the second deep and searing.
“No really?” you said, finally able to catch your breath as he pulled you back into him, laying your head against his chest.
“You're just so innocent, and I’ve been jerking off to you since first semester!”
You felt your mouth begin to salivate and a knot forming in your belly. It was getting ridiculous how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess.
“What?” He said, noticing your compromised state. “Did you think I was just being arrogant about Mrs. Odonalls class too?”
The look he gave you was filthy and the gust of air you let out through your nose was entirely due to your inability to scream.
“I didn’t even know I had a whole crying thing till I met you.” he said, brushing his lips over your forehead as he thought.
“God, but I could not get you out of my fucking head. It got so bad at some point I started having to jerk off before class just so I didn’t have a hard on the whole damn time.”
Eddie pulled back, suddenly realizing he might have said too much. His dark eyes searching yours, trying to gauge your reaction.
You really had no idea what to say, and maybe it spoke more to your character than to his, but deep down you didn’t think you’d ever heard something as mind numbingly titillating as the image of him stroking him self to the thought of you and you alone.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said sheepishly. “You were just so fucking hot and-” he tried to explain himself as you abruptly smacked him on the chest.
“Be serious,” you said, only slightly amused.
“I am!” he finally grinned, relaxing a bit at your apparent acceptance of his less than noble intentions.
“You do know you're actually beautiful, right?” he looked at you suspiciously, having been struck by the thought.
You rolled your eyes at him again changing the subject, “So you wanted to fuck me all year, big deal? Why do you wanna be with me now all of a sudden?”
He narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, but eventually continued.
“I don’t know, after awhile I couldn’t stop thinking about you in other ways either,” he sighed lightly.
“Never thought I’d get the chance to do anything about it though, didn’t think you’d ever care as much about me as you do The Lord of the Rings.”
Eddie finished, laughing bodily as his head fell back at his joke.
“Careful Munson,” you challenged him, “I might already be half way there!”
You started to laugh with him, but you felt it die in your throat as he looked down at you, his eyes growing slightly sad.
“So you really wanna do this then.. Be together?”
If ever anyone had told you that Edward Munson could sound feeble you wouldn’t have believed them. But in that moment, you truly thought the man had never known love or acceptance by anyone. His decision to lay it all out on the line, entirely dependent on you.
“I’d like that Ed..” you said, your voice shaking as you fought your excitement. “I’d really like that.”
“Good,” he let out a breath you didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I guess you can keep the shirt then.”
You smiled, leaning in to kiss him, his own toothy grin answering yours. You blinked and suddenly you were on your back again, his hands pinning your arms above your head as he knelt sprawled between your legs.
At the shocked look on your face he became more gentle, releasing your hands and skating them down over your body, his thumbs coming to hook under your shirt before lifting it up to expose your breasts.
His first came to knead gently at them as he spoke.
“So fucking perfect,” he told you. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”
Bringing his face closer he took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it as if it offered him his very salvation.
He ended up spending a dedicated amount of time on either one, but it wasn't until he began to trail lower that your head snapped up, your moans ragged as you tried to speak.
“Eddie- ahh d-don’t, you just-”
The look he gave you as he kissed your belly button stopped you dead in your tracks, desire causing your jaw to go slack. You watched as he kissed his way further and further down your body, his hot breath skating over your mound.
He didn’t look away from you as he opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue as he lowered his head. You bit your lip to conceal your scream as he sank into his place between your thighs, gripping them tightly as he forced you open for him.
The wet press of his tongue spreading your lips was electrifying, his face melting into your heat as his nails dug into your soft flesh. He took his time working your clit, sucking and lapping at it until your hands were cradling his head and your hips were thrusting into his face. That’s when he began to go even lower, working his was to your fucked out hole, tasting the mixture of the two of you from its source.
He let out a long heaving moan as he drank from you, the sound vibrating into every facet of your being. He didn’t stop there however, his hands letting go of your thighs and sliding underneath the swell of your ass, pushing your hips up as he followed the trail to your tight virgin button.
“Eddie st-” You gasp feeling his tongue swipe over it, coming back to dip into your cum filled cunt.
His hands returned to their original post, rubbing circles into the meat of your thighs, calming you as well as assuring you he wasn’t gonna do anything you weren’t sure of yet. You found yourself almost begging for it shortly after though, offering every part of yourself to him, both body and soul as his tongue took turns fucking into both of your holes.
The trill of orgasams that followed became a staple in your mind. You doubted the desire for one another would ever truly be sated even as the time for you to go came and went and you were forced to get up and get dressed.
Eddie hadn’t been joking about the shirt either, outright insisting that you keep it, going as far as to tell you how happy it would make him to watch his sweet girl wear it to class the next day. You agreed, all too ready to please him.
When you motioned to leave he grabbed his keys and boastfully announced that you weren’t going to get away that easy, mistakenly believing that you’d be walking anywhere ever again. It made you laugh, the two short miles to your house from his not nearly enough time for you to say your goodbyes.
“Don’t go just yet, please..” Eddie whimpered, his hand on your wrist pulling you away from the door handle. His big black van parked out by the curb in front of your run down house.
You could see your Father’s truck in the driveway and the anxiety you felt made it an easy decision for you to let him slip you back into his lap. One large hand taking your chin as the other grabbed a fistful of your ass.
You stayed like that, kissing for what felt like hours, the sun sinking low in the sky as dusk became nightfall.
It wasn’t until the threat of more that you finally squeezed yourself against him, drawing back as you pecked his kiss swollen lips.
“You gonna sleep alright without me tonight?” He asked.
“I’ve never doubted anything more in my life,” you giggled, crawling back into the passenger seat and opening the door.
“Well at least try for me, babe.” Eddie smirked, turning the key and starting the engine.
You felt his eyes watch you every step of the way as you got out, turning to look back at him from your front porch. He blew a kiss at you as you waved him goodbye, your heart skipping several beats as you opened your front door and closed it, locking it quietly behind you.
tagged peeps: @dinodinodin0 (special thank you to you boo! idk if i’d have ever finished this without ya!), @trashboat-the-raccoon , @1-fuzzy-squirrels , @supermarketbae , @imamonsterfucker-sorry , @aurora-sweet , @feralphilosphy , @jadeylovesmarvelxo , @lydbug , @moonsomnia , @galaxyofmyown , @love-conquers-everythingg , @twigs0019 , @m3sml , @kelsiegrin , @eddiemunsonshoney , @ingridvasquez , @justmeandmymeanderingthoughts , @sweethearteddiemunson
#.... i am terrified tbh#like i kinda wanna throw up#i left myself room enough that if anyone actually like this i can kinda build off it so there is a little bit of plot?? idk#anyway please dont throw tomatoes at me for the attempt at writing#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson smut fic#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fluff fic#nsft#mywriting#myem
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good news! CHWE chapter 5 is almost finished👀
bad news! its 4am and I have to sleep so tmorrow after thanksgiving? consider this my thanks to yall
#saucy speaks#yall im not stuck anymore!!!!!!#i just need 2 more tiny sections and its done#yall this is the longest chapter yet at 6552 and counting i believe#chwe✨#guess who can use that tag again#we got fluff#we got angst#uhhh#tomato tomato#gn yall
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Okay okay hear me out Rain: reader watching Sanji cook, just sitting, waiting, maybe reading a book but catching glances at him every so often and he knows they're looking at him and just smiles....sorry I love that man
accidentally in love
opla!sanji; 2,569 words; fluff, banter so much banter, flirting, flustered!sanji, whipped!sanji, no "y/n", confessions, "sweetheart", fem!reader, straw hat"!reader
summary: in which sanji is trying to cook dinner but you're very, very distracting. or, sanji finally meets his match.
a/n: i know i said i might not write for anyone other than zoro but i lied. i guess i'm a sanji bitch now too. fuck.
Sanji’s always liked to say that he can cook anywhere, anytime, given that he’s got something that resembles heat and a smattering of ingredients — like any great artist, he knows how to make do. But, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy this — the quiet of a ship’s kitchen, the gentle sway of the ocean, the simmer and pop of fat on a pan, the soft bubbling of boiling water — and you.
You, perched on the counter with your legs hanging off the side, hair piled up and pinned with a chopstick, a book in your hands or on your lap, the early afternoon sun spilling in to caress your skin like so many loving fingers. Sometimes, he’ll glance over while chopping onions or mincing garlic to catch a glimpse of you, and he’d find himself stilling, his fingers slowing, his breath suspended in his chest, caught like an insect in amber: held weightless and perfect.
“You’re staring,” you say, flipping a page without looking up, a smile twitching at your lips.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve found that admiring beautiful things helps me in my creative process,” he says, his grin going lopsided as he lowers his eyes to the ingredients on the cutting board — tiny, plump cherry tomatoes ripe to bursting. He resumes slicing each in half with swift, decisive cuts and relishes in the sound of your laughter.
“Careful with that mouth of yours — someone might accidentally fall in love with you,” you flip another page.
Sanji slides the cut tomatoes into a bowl and wipes a hand on the towel slung over his shoulder.
“Accidentally? C’mon, you gotta gimme some more credit. But if anyone’s fallin’ in love, it’s gonna be with you.”
Another page. Sanji plucks a few zucchini from a large bag and starts to julienne them into thin strips.
“What are you making?” you ask, finally setting the book down in favor of peering at all the ingredients he’s got laid out. He quirks an eyebrow, glancing up.
“What, finished with that book already?”
“Nope — just found something more interesting to look at, that’s all.”
Sanji blushes.
Let it never be said that Vinsmoke Sanji can’t take as good as he gives but by all the gods and monsters and sea kings — you’re a damn good flirt. Almost as good as he is, he used to think. Now, as he covers up his rapidly darkening cheeks with a chuckle, turning away to grab a potato for skinning, he wonders if you might just be better.
“You never answered my question, y’know.”
He looks up again, his tongue feeling strangely swollen and uncoordinated in his mouth. You’re grinning at him, your legs still swinging, but in the few seconds he’d looked away, you’ve inched closer, your outer thigh now almost pressing against the edge of his cutting board.
The first time he’d found you perched up on his long work table with a book in your lap, he’d blinked, crossed his arms, and debated on asking what on earth you thought you were doing. Chefs generally do not take kindly to their prep spaces being treated like free real estate for sitting, but he’d never been able to say no to a beautiful woman, now has he? And least of all you.
“Thought you could use the company,” was your answer to his then-unasked question. He’d laughed, nodded, and gotten on with his breakfast prep. But that was months ago and since then, it’s become something of a habit; a ritual, almost.
“What question was that? I was —” he asks, clearing his throat, his fingers almost slipping on the freshly peeled potato, “distracted by your —”
“What are you making?”
“Oh —” Sanji returns his gaze to the cutting board, now acutely aware of the smell of your skin, creamy and warm. He swallows, trying to focus on slicing the potato.
“Just a cherry tomato and zucchini noodle pasta — not often that we get such fresh produce. But Luffy’d asked if I can make chips from scratch the other day so that’s what this bad boy’s for,” he says, holding up half the potato.
“You sure one potato’s gonna be enough?” you shift your leg to cross one above the other, and Sanji has to swallow passed the thickness building up in the back of his throat at the sight of your soft, smooth thighs.
“Good point,” he says, laughing as he bends down to grab a few more.
You fall into a companionable silence, the quiet only punctuated by the tack-tack-tack of his knife on the cutting board and the occasionally shunk-thump of ingredients being swept into a metal prep bowl.
“You’re staring,” he says. And this time, it’s Sanji who grins, keeping his eyes fixed on the remainder of the herb mix he’s chopping up.
“Yeah, I know. I’m making a habit of admiring beautiful things. I’ve heard that it’s good for me.”
Heat bursts in Sanji’s chest as if he’d swallowed a shot of whiskey or gin or perhaps something even more potent. His head spins, but he steadies himself before letting out a soft, low whistle. He fights the urge to look up just to check if you’re as affected as he is.
“Keep talkin’ like that and falling in love with you’s not gonna be an accident.”
When he finally looks up to shoot you a flirty smile, he finds himself faltering as he meets your eyes.
“Who said I wanted it to be an accident?”
The knife in Sanji’s hand slips and he swears as it knicks the skin of his forefinger.
“Ah, shit —”
“Oops.” You have the decency to look sheepish as he shoots you a mildly reproachful look. But you shift your legs and tug open a drawer that had been tucked beneath where your knee had been, pulling out a small bandage.
“Come here,” you offer, reaching out as he stares at you for a second before moving forward to give you his hand. You gently wipe away the blood before pressing the bandage to the small cut, running a thumb over the edges to make sure it’s sealed.
The air hangs between you like dust motes trapped in sunlight, like first snow caught in the silvery breaths of awestruck children.
“There,” you say, the word no more than a whisper. Your hands linger over his, his skin burning where you’d touched him. Shivers skitter down the length of his spine as he gulps in a breath of air that tastes faintly of fairytale endings and happily-ever-afters.
“Thanks.”
He doesn't pull away. Neither do you.
Like this, he can count every single lash that frames your doe-wide eyes. Like this, he can feel the static thrum of electricity threatening to jump from his body to yours, and all at once, he understands why lightning always tries to reach for the closest thing to its storm-ridden skies.
Perhaps it, too, yearns for closeness — for that infinitesimal moment of connection.
He wants to reach for you.
Your lips hover a kiss’s-breadth away.
An alarm goes off.
“Oh fuck —”
He jerks away from you, the world clanging rudely back into focus as he reaches for the lid of a large pot, his heart hammering something fierce inside his ribcage. He nearly burns himself on the thick fog of steam rising from inside the pot to reveal six flat-face crabs, freshly caught that morning.
Behind him, he hears the distinct sounds of you slipping from the long work table.
“Leaving already?” he asks as he turns back around with a stab at his usual light-hearted cheek.
You lick your lips, grinning, “I feel like I’ve caused enough damage for one dinner service. If I keep hanging around, you might lose a finger next.”
“Small price to pay for the company of a beautiful woman,” but there’s a gravel and grit to his voice that wasn’t there before, and he looks away first when this time your eyes catch. He tries to busy himself with prepping the pan sauce for the crabs.
“I’ll let Nami know that the next time she wants to peek in on you cooking.”
“Hey —”
You pause at the sound of his voice just as you reach the door. You turn.
Sanji’s expression flickers between caution and anticipation as he opens his mouth, his eyes somehow sharper and darker than they usually are.
“We’re not done talking about this.”
You cock your head, “About what?”
But there’s a smile teasing at the corner of your lips and Sanji lets out a good-humored sigh.
“Alright, go. Or else I might lose more than a finger.”
Like a heart, he thinks as you close the door behind you with a soft click.
Dinner is an appetizer of cold zucchini pasta followed by a warm, tangy tomato veloute. Then come the crabs — freshly steamed over a bed of risotto and served with a lemon and rosemary pan sauce so delicious it has even Zoro sighing with satisfaction.
“Wow, special occasion?” Nami asks, looking up as Sanji comes around with a tray full of cocktails, complete with blood orange slices garnishing the lip of each glass.
“Ain’t every day a special one with this crew?” he asks, winking at Nami as she takes her drink.
Everyone laughs, but as he sets down your drink, you notice a tiny note tucked beneath the base of your glass.
You take a sip of your drink, glancing down at the note. It has three simple words written in Sanji’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting:
Kitchen — after dinner.
You tuck the note away in your pocket with a secret grin, taking another long sip of the cold, refreshing drink.
The final course is a heaping pile of home-made potato chips with garlic and cheese dip, and Luffy wastes no time in shoveling half the batch into his mouth, crunching loudly over a series of vague, animalistic hums and grunts that all seem to denote happiness.
You finish your drink and slip away under the guise of going for another.
When you get to the kitchen, it's to find Sanji already cleaning up.
“Need a hand?” you ask, setting your empty glass on the counter before lightly hoisting yourself up onto it.
Sanji shakes his head, turning off the water and wiping down his hands. He pours you another drink from a large pitcher before setting it down and pursing his lips.
“This afternoon —”
“I meant what I said —” you say, cutting him off as you look away, eyes fixed on your knees as you swing your feet away from the table’s edge, “if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sanji clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter, if only to keep his hands busy. The thing in his chest that he’d been so convinced was his heart for most of his life now feels very much like a ticking time bomb. Or perhaps a hand grenade, with the pin held precariously between your teeth.
One word from you and —
“So? What about you?” you ask.
Sanji sucks in a long breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. The familiar sting grounds him as he looks at you and wonders if you know all the things he’d do for you. All the things he’s already done.
“Me?” he asks.
“Yeah — did you mean it?” And for the first time since he’s known you, you sound uncertain, “All… all those things you said? All the things you’ve been saying?”
He takes a few steps forward, finally allowing himself to breach the delicate circle of your personal space, his free hand coming to rest on the counter next to your thigh, his palm pressing flat to keep himself from going too far, too fast.
“Three guesses,” he says, letting his eyes flicker down to your lips and linger there, “You guess right… and there might be a prize involved, hm?”
A small, knowing grin spreads across your lips even as you quirk an eyebrow.
“Three guesses to a yes or no question? C’mon, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch.”
Sanji leans in and you can almost taste the smoke on your tongue.
“But you do know better, don’t you, sweetheart?”
You suck in a breath, reaching up to tug the cigarette from his lips.
“Yes.”
You catch a flash of his smile a second before his lips find yours. He tastes of salt and tobacco and lemon-rosemary sauce.
“That’s one,” he says as the pair of you break apart. The cigarette lies forgotten on the counter.
Somehow, his hands have found their way to the bend of your waist, settling there as naturally as the tide might settle against its favorite stretch of forgotten beach.
You smile as you reach up to tug him closer, “Yes.”
Another kiss.
Sanji notes with a satisfied grin that your cheeks are just as flushed as his feels when he pulls away this time. He nods, trailing long fingers up your side, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek, the other pressing at the small of your back.
“That’s two.”
You nudge his nose with yours and he feels his hand-grenade heart leap into his throat.
“And…” you hum, letting your head lilt to one side as you ghost your lips over his, “Hm, lemme think about this one…”
Sanji rolls his eyes, tugging you forward by the back of your neck, crushing your mouth to his. It’s more insistent this time — the kiss, the breath, his fingers, your hands — more desperate and fumbling, fueled by the ever-growing heat bubbling at the base of his spine.
“Yes —” you hiss, panting as the pair of you pull apart, your pupils blown wide and dark in the dim kitchen light.
“And that’s all three,” he says, his smile going wide with warmth, “See? You’ve got it. Knew you’d get there.”
“Did you ever doubt?”
Sanji shrugs, taking half a step back to admire the sight of you, with kiss-swollen lips and heat-flushed skin. Perfect might not be strong enough a word.
“There was a moment here or there,” he says, to which you respond with a light shove to his shoulder as you hop off the table.
“Oh, I meant to ask you — what’s for dessert?”
Sanji laughs, “What? Did my garlic-cheddar chips not satisfy?”
“Really? Chips for dessert? And here I was hoping for something sweet.”
You make to leave the kitchen but Sanji reaches forward, pulling you back all too easily, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. His eyes are soft with mirth but as he leans down, you can’t help but shiver at the promise of something more lingering beneath the smoke of his breath.
“Well then, sweetheart, I think I’ve got my dessert picked out already now, don’t I?”
recs r technically closed, but... if you have an opla!sanji one... send it here.
#uhohitsemmy#opla#one piece x you#one piece x reader#one piece live action#opla sanji#one piece netflix#one piece fluff#sanji opla#sanji x reader#sanji x you#vinsmoke sanji#vinsmoke sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji x you#opla x reader#opla x you#opla fluff#x reader#floofy floof floof#yall when i say we're whipped i rly do mean WHIPPED#also shoutout to my bf for making that menu for dinner cause i kno nothing about european style cooking#least of all french cooking#scheduled post
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strange perfections
in which spencer reid and fem!reader meet by accident at a coffee shop. and then they keep meeting there. they've really got to stop meeting like this. (no, seriously. hotch is pissed.) / do you believe me now? bonus chapter!
fluff!
warnings/tags: meet cute:) some dark humor, romantically inexperienced reader, spencer reid graduated from caltech, mit, and the derek morgan school of rizz
a/n: this can absolutely be read as a standalone BUT it was written as a prologue for my series do you believe me now? to explain how spencer and r met! completely optional, if you're only here for the smut no worries! reading this bonus chapter might make the next chapter better though as it contains discussions of how they met:) anyway, I LOVE YOU!! let me know if you like this silly little random thing! kisses
The café door opens again. A blustery wind raises goosebumps on your arms and makes your bones ache again. You look up at the latest intruder—a hobbling elderly man in a newsboy cap and a knit red scarf.
Stupid scarf, you think.
Stupid door.
Stupid wind.
Your mug is empty, and the table you’re sitting at is sort of sticky and rickety, and there are so many papers in front of you that you wonder why the hell you thought it’d be a good idea to print the PDF out and annotate it that way instead of just doing it on your laptop like a normal person in the 21st century. Nothing is going right today. It’s the third café you’ve tried in the past few weeks as you attempt to find some place that feels homey, lucky, but this one just feels… inconvenient.
You look at the stack of papers and sigh.
Stupid Lord Byron.
Stupid cafe.
Usually, cafés are relatively quiet and peaceful—a refuge for the overworked to bask in the luxury of quiet jazz and the smell of dark roast as they continue to overwork themselves. This particular establishment, however, today hosts a group of teenagers—presumably playing hooky—who have commandeered a big booth in the back and keep walking right past your table because apparently they couldn’t have just ordered their drinks at once and they all have to do it separately and loudly.
One of them has an incredibly irritating, gratingly pubescent laugh, and they think everything is hilarious. This whole situation is unbearable.
Just as you’re gearing up to go, of course the fucking door opens again. This time, it’s accompanied by a particularly strong gust.
Strong enough that Lord Byron doesn’t stand a chance.
Your printed copy of his works blows off the table, at first page by painstakingly annotated page and then before you can even process it, all at once.
Yeah. This is definitely not your lucky café.
As you curse and go to stand up, you run into one of those dumb kids. His huge ceramic mug goes flying, careening against the edge of your table and completely splattering you and all your stuff in 16 liquid ounces of scalding espresso and milk.
It’s silent for a second, save for a few drips from the puddle on your table to the floor, before the kid is apologizing profusely and turning red as a tomato. You can’t even respond—you look down at your ruined favorite sweater, and then around at the pages of Byron littered with color-coded sticky notes, overflowing with angry and purposeful red ink that you spent so much time on, scattered all over the floor.
Eventually the boy catches on that you’re not going to forgive him and he skitters away, back to his friends, who whisper and giggle profusely. Only a few of them get up to start gathering the fallen pages with you. Several other patrons end up helping as well, so the sheets of paper are gathered and returned into your sticky hands fairly quickly. You thank each person without looking up as they hand you their respective stack. All you want is to get out of here.
“Here—I’m really sorry about this,” someone says—a tenor-ish male voice, distinctly sympathetic as he holds out a rather larger stack of papers than anyone else had bothered to pick up.
“I’ll live,” you sigh, straightening up. “But thank… you.”
The man standing in front of you is the kind of man who makes you want to untuck your hair from its usual spot behind your ears, and to stand up straighter, and to try and not stare even though you want his attention. He’s gloriously beautiful in a way that repels and attracts you. He’s the type of man who wouldn’t have given you the time of day in high school and probably wouldn’t now. Instantly you feel both insecure and reduced to a former version of you who would simper and fawn over boys who wanted nothing to do with her. You feel like going to the other side of the café and sitting in the best light and staring out the window poetically and hoping he’s looking at you.
“On the one hand, I feel bad for being the person who opened the door and let the wind in. On the other… I feel compelled to say at least they’re not covered in coffee like the rest of your table is?”
You laugh vacantly, a second too late, positively coveting the awkward smile on his angular face. Then you make eye contact, and his eyes are so the opposite of angular—they’re huge and inviting and the warmest golden-brown you’ve ever seen, and they’re looking right back at you—and you have to look down. Fuck. You hate when you do that.
Think of something normal to say!
“Yeah, true. Now I just have to reorder 264 pages. That… that don’t have page numbers.”
You shuffle through the papers. They are hopelessly scrambled. Your heart sinks just a bit.
“Um… I might actually be able to help with that, if you want?”
You frown, glancing up. What kind of sex trafficking ploy is this?
“That’s okay. Might be easier with just one person.”
He laughs—it’s similarly awkward, similarly endearing.
“Do you mind letting me just… try? It’ll only take a minute.”
Only take a minute? Is this beautiful man deranged? Why are the hot ones always crazy?
But, perhaps because you’re a pushover who can’t stand up to people, much less beautiful people, much less beautiful men who are paying you undue attention, you find yourself giving in. You hold the stack out.
“Sure. Give it your best shot. I’ll be impressed if you can even figure out what page one is.”
He’s already flipping through the papers with a drawn brow, walking away with them, and barely looking over his shoulder as he mutters, “I have Byron memorized. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”
You follow him, because hello, he has all your annotations. He’s definitely insane, you think, as he sits down at a table and starts rapidly sorting the sheets into separate piles.
All you can do is stand awkwardly behind him as he stacks papers seemingly at random, barely glancing at them before deciding where they go.
Maybe a minute, maybe a few go by, each of which have you progressively more flabbergasted, before he’s tapping the edges of a stack of paper on the table and standing, handing them to you with his lips pressed into a thin pleasant line. There’s almost a glow about him—like he couldn’t be more in his comfort zone.
“There you go. Should be in order now.” You sport a frown bordering on a grimace as you take the stack and flip through it a bit. Sure enough, it seems that everything is in order. You keep looking between the man in front of you and the papers, incredulous as you wait for something to be in the wrong spot.
“How did you do that?”
His cheeks turn slightly pink.
“I know Byron really well. I know how each passage ends and begins so I put them together like puzzle pieces.”
“How did you read that fast?”
“Uh. I’m a speed-reader?”
You scoff, taking another look through the stack.
“I think that may be underselling it.” A thought occurs to you as you’re grazing over one of your longer annotations—full of expletives and strong opinions. “Oh, god. You didn’t… you didn’t read my notes?”
The man’s eyebrows raise as if he was waiting for you to mention that and he smiles like he doesn’t quite know how to break it to you gently.
“Maybe a few,” he eventually decides, laughing under his breath. “I appreciated the commentary on his relationship with Augusta. It was… colorful.”
Heat rises in your cheeks as you mumble.
“Yeah, I had a hard time appreciating the romantic poems. They’re less cute when there’s like a fifty percent chance he’s writing about his sister.”
“Half sister,” he corrects. You give him a look.
“Does that make it better?”
“… no,” he realizes. “Not even a little bit.”
You laugh, relieved that his face looks as warm as yours feels.
“Well… thank you, for the help,” you say after a silent second.
“Of course. Sorry, again. I, um—I hope your day gets better?”
“Yeah, well. I feel like statistically it has to, right? It’s kind of a low bar.”
He smiles, a perfect, perfect smile, and gives you a little wave as he leaves. Without coffee. Checking the clock on the wall, you realize it’s approaching one in the afternoon. If he’d been here on his lunch break, he sacrificed it to organize your stupid Byron texts. You smile to yourself.
He was totally in love with me.
And he can’t prove me wrong because I’ll probably never see him again.
All things considered—this coffee shop does seem pretty lucky. Maybe you’ll stick with it for a while.
The next time you see the mysterious sexy speed reader is four days later—though you’ve been here every day since. He catches your eye right as he walks in, and his brows jump in pleasant recognition. You smile. He smiles back, before going up to the counter and ordering a coffee with a ludicrous amount of sugar in it.
I should take note for when I make him his coffee in the mornings, you think to yourself, and then you snort at your own delusions, shaking your head at your book. Obviously you’re not that divorced from reality, but you’ll entertain the fantasy forever until one of you stops showing up to this café.
What you’re absolutely not expecting is for him to walk up to your table with his to-go cup.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi!”
Jesus. Tone it down, girl scout.
He gestures to your stack of papers: now secured in a three ring binder. The cup says Spencer.
Spencer. Spencer.
It feels important.
“I see you’ve upgraded.”
“Yes! Yes, I did,” you laugh self-consciously, still struggling to meet his eyes. “Thank you for the help the other day. I would still be sorting through all of this if it weren’t for that, so… yeah. Thanks.”
“Of course! I’m glad I could be of use.”
“Spence!” Someone calls from the cafe door. You both look up to see a stunning blonde beckoning him away.
Ah. Naturally. The girlfriend who is one trillion times prettier than you.
Spence.
Reality sets in.
“Coming!” He replies, with all the eager compliance of a child, before turning back to you. “Um… well… I’ll see you?”
It’s an awkward way to say goodbye to a stranger, but you suddenly don’t care enough to dwell. Instead you nod once, less enthusiastic now that you know he has a 10 waiting for him on the sidewalk.
“I am a creature of habit.”
Another wave as he walks away.
The two disappear from the doorway, but the perpetual breeze seems to carry a snatched bit of conversation your way.
“Who was that?”
“Uh… I don’t actually know.”
Yeah. Reality definitely sets in.
Over the next few days, you break your café streak. Life is busy. There’s not always time to artfully ponder Romantic poetry and drink a six dollar coffee while waiting around for certain people to show up.
Okay, so… maybe it has more to do with him than you’re letting on. But you’re not going to do that thing you do again, where you become limerently obsessed with a man you don’t know and who is way out of your league just because you can’t form an actual attachment to anyone to save your life. Besides, you remind yourself; we probably wouldn’t be compatible anyway. He’s probably a huge loser. Or secretly a douche. Or chews with his mouth open. Obviously nobody that attractive can also have a good personality.
Not to mention he has a girlfriend. That should put you off, too.
But you hadn’t been lying when you’d proclaimed to be a creature of habit—you return to the café once you feel sufficiently detached from this Spencer character.
He’s there. Of course he’s there. Why had you been expecting for him to not be there? It’s not like he was a figment of your imagination.
This time he’s accompanied by a different blonde woman—a bespectacled blonde with a big floral headband and a patterned dress and a red cardigan and tights and heels that look self-injurious. She’s quite eye-catching; you want to keep looking at her, but you seem to draw her attention, too. Her big eyes widen minutely and briefly you wonder if you’re supposed to know her, but certainly you’d remember meeting a person like that. She doesn’t seem easily forgettable. Both of you look to Spencer at the same time, who’s looking between you with an almost panicked expression.
“Oh! Th—” the woman whispers, cutting herself off when she realizes how loud she’s being in the otherwise silent establishment. “Ah! Okay, right. Never mind.”
Spencer sighs. You want to laugh, but you’re baffled by the whole thing. So you go back to reading.
Ten minutes later, they draw your attention once more.
“Go, go ahead! It’s more problematic for you to be late than me. I’ll be like, thirty seconds tops.”
You don’t look up as Spencer leaves the café—but are you supposed to gather that these two eccentric individuals are coworkers? And what of the first blonde woman, who you’d presumed to be his girlfriend? Where is she?
While you’re wondering all of this, the new blonde teeters her way over to your table.
“Hi!” She says pleasantly, waving a purple-tipped hand and wearing the biggest grin.
“Uh… hi?”
“I’m Penelope. You’ve met my friend Spencer. He just left.”
“Oh—sort of,” you smile weakly, closing your book. “Not formally. I didn’t know his name.”
That’s a lie, but maybe feigning non-chalance will make it real.
“Well, I just wanted to come over and say I love your bag. And your jewelry and your coat. I love your whole look. I bet you’re a really cool person.”
“Um—thank you!” You perk up, smiling genuinely now. The compliment warms you—you didn’t think your look was all that interesting today. “You too. I love your outfit.”
“Great! You’re—you’re great. This is good information. Um… just out of, like, sheer curiosity, could I get your name, age, and occupation? Oh—and your zodiac sign?”
What kind of convoluted sex trafficking ploy—
“Garcia!”
Spencer is at the doorway again, looking adorably miffed.
Adorable? Get a grip.
“Wh—I’m just making a new friend! Is friendship illegal, now?”
“This is the kind of friend-making that gets you a restraining order,” he urges.
You look up at Penelope Garcia, enamored by their whole dynamic. They clearly care for each other, despite the squabbling. What kind of job do they have where they talk to each other like this?
“It’s fine,” you smile, introducing yourself to her.
“That is such a good name!” She says, and you’re getting the sense she’s kind of always this enthusiastic. “So now we know each other’s names—we should probably definitely be friends, right?”
“Yeah! Um, definitely!”
“Yes? Oh my god! I love this! Okay, um—we work at Quantico, so, we’re like, 10 minutes away—but this is better than the coffee shop that’s closest to the building, so we come here all the time. Usually it’s just us and five grouchy old men, which makes this is really exciting.”
“Quantico… that’s the FBI academy, right?”
“Other stuff, too,” she nods, still smiley.
Oh! Cool. So they’re FBI agents.
So that’s cool.
You’re cool with that.
Her phone starts ringing—she locks eyes with Spencer.
“Hotch?”
“Ooh, we are in trouble,” Penelope sing-songs, leaning down to write her number on your notebook without asking. Not that you mind, of course. She adds a little heart and a smiley face next to her name before capping your pen and toddling away. “Bye, new friend!” She calls over her shoulder, waving goodbye with just her fingers.
“Bye,” you manage, though it’s probably too quiet.
Spencer flattens his mouth into an approximation of a smile and waves again.
You accidentally find yourself mirroring his goodbye, facial expression and all. Fuck. You hope he doesn’t notice. You hope he doesn’t read into it.
Nah. Boys are dumb.
You text Penelope later that afternoon—a simple greeting so that she can save your number—and then you forget about it.
It’s not until five days go by without sign of any of them—the two blondes, Spencer, this mysterious and foreboding Hotch figure—that you start to seriously question your sanity. Did they drop off the face of the planet, or what?
But of course, just as you’re sitting at your usual table, Spencer walks in. Alone.
He sees you immediately, but instead of the wave you’d come to expect, he immediately flushes, looks down at his shoes and hurries into the small lunch-rush line.
Weird.
You corner him at the coffee bar, where he’s adding more sugar to his coffee. How are his teeth so nice if he does this to himself every single day?
“Hey,” you say, affecting casual confidence as you bus your empty mug. “… Spencer, right?”
It’s comical how you’re pretending you haven’t turned that name over and looked at it from every angle hundreds of times since the first time you heard it.
He nods, only glancing up at you as he stirs. To your surprise, he knows your name, too. When you give him an odd look, he smiles almost apologetically, finally looking at your face for longer than half a second.
“I heard you introducing yourself to Penelope. Sorry if that’s…”
“No, no! Is she around, today? I texted her last week, but she never responded...”
“Today is operating system update day, so I don’t even really have a way of knowing if she’s alive in her office.” It’s funny to him, but you just smile, baffled. He notices your silence and catches on, scrambling to explain himself. “She’s our tech analyst. There are 243 computers in our building and she has to update them all remotely, which requires getting every agent to agree to not touch their computer at the same time for an hour or so.”
“Oh… does the FBI not have, like… an IT guy, or something?”
He laughs again—the way his eyes crinkle when he does it makes you a little breathless.
“You should say that to her. I think you would become her favorite person.”
It’s hard not to smile when he’s smiling because of you—however indirectly that may be. Quickly you realize you’ve both been standing in front of the coffee bar for too long.
“Alright, well… tell her good luck, for me?”
“I would, but I’ve been kicked out for an hour while she does the updates.”
Your brow furrows and you laugh.
“From the whole building? You just can’t keep your hands off your computer for an hour?”
“Not if I want to do my job, no. And I am kind of obsessive about my job. I’ve been the reason she had to start the whole process over again before and I’d rather not be that person again.”
You say it before you can think too hard.
“Well, if you have an hour to kill… there’s an open seat at my table? No pressure, obviously.”
And that was the first of thousands of hours you would come to spend with Spencer Reid.
After that, it sort of becomes a regular thing. He comes almost every day—except for occasional week or so long stretches, which you have discovered are a part of his absolutely fucking insane job—and sits with you, sometimes with Penelope, once with the other blonde, JJ, who you’ve since deduced is not his girlfriend, most often alone. Usually he can’t spare more than ten minutes, but he begins pushing it, little by little, until thirty minutes go by and you think surely his boss (the great and all-powerful Hotchner) must be beginning to notice.
One day, during your usual lunchtime rendezvous, his phone rings. He talks right on through it, like it’s not happening.
It ceases. And then it starts again.
Your head drops to your shoulder, something like pity or regret softening your features. He catches your eye and melts slightly, mid-sentence—like he knows you’re about to tell him to be responsible.
“Do you think you should…”
His hands drop from where they’d been enthusiastically positioned mid-air.
“They’ll be fine if I’m late from lunch one time. I’m usually more punctual than any of them.”
You roll your lip between your teeth—it’s not that you want to tell him to go; in fact, those delusions you’ve been harboring about your future life together are only getting worse with each inexplicable minute he entertains your company.
But his job is important.
“What if you have a case?”
“Then I would have gotten more calls from more people by now.”
Your head tips back as you laugh lightly at his unwavering insistence.
“I’m flattered that you so enjoy my company that much. But I can’t with good conscience keep taking up your work hours like this.”
As the laughter fades, he just… watches you, lips slightly parted, eyes intense but not entirely present.
“You’re probably right,” he finally breathes. “Maybe… you should start taking up my other hours, instead?”
Spencer Reid, you unexpected charmer.
You balk.
“Like… we would hang out? At a different time of day? Not here?”
“Those are the basic premises, yes,” he chuckles, nodding affably. “I’ve never actually seen you anywhere else. For all I know you could be a ghost eternally tethered to this building.”
“Where would this hanging out take place?”
Fuck, you’re totally being weird. His brow knits.
“I don’t know. Where else do people hang out?”
He’s not genuinely asking you, he’s gently turning you in the right direction. You charge forward blindly.
“Restaurants.”
There’s that pretty smile of his again, the one that makes all the thoughts drain from your head like cold bathwater. Though, there’s a sort of mischievous edge to it now that you haven't seen before.
“That’s certainly an option. If I asked you to hang out with me at a restaurant... would you say yes?”
You look down. God, your face feels warm.
“Would you be asking me out on a date? In this hypothetical scenario that we’ve constructed, I mean.”
Spencer seems to think about it for a moment, which fills you with unexpected panic. When you look back up anxiously, he has the same smile on his face, but his eyes are a little softer now.
“I would.”
More panic sets in—just a bit. But you don’t let what is undoubtedly a tidal wave of anxiety break through the emotional guard-dam. Keep it together. This is a good thing. This is what you wanted.
Unfortunately, you are perhaps more transparent than you’d realized. Spencer begins to look slightly worried, leaning forward in his chair.
“You don’t have to say yes. I know we don’t know each other very well, I just—”
“No!” You find yourself assuring him, though you curse yourself because you kind of want to know what he was going to say. “I would say yes. I’ve just, um—god,” you laugh gustily, self-consciously. “Sorry I’m being so weird. I’m out of my depth. Nobody’s asked me on a date before. I don’t really know the etiquette.”
Spencer chuckles.
“You’re doing great. Don’t worry about it.”
Not, what?
Not, you’ve never been on a date before?
Not, that’s crazy, or that’s weird, or how have you gone your whole life without being asked out?
With the implication being, you’re odd. Different. Maybe not in a good way.
He says none of that.
“But I should probably actually ask you, huh?” His cheeks turn pink as his laughter is redirected inwards.
“Sounds like a good first step.”
Spencer is still smiling as he says your name and it sounds so good from his mouth. It makes you sound so real.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
Butterflies in your stomach doesn't begin to brush what you're experiencing—your entire abdominal cavity is like a Monarch sanctuary.
“I’d love to.”
He seems genuinely relieved as he beams, slumping back in his chair.
“Oh, thank god. I was so nervous you’d say no. I never do that. Thank you for not saying no. Not that you couldn’t have said no—it would have been completely fine and obviously within your rights to—”
His phone rings again. Both of you are relieved that he was interrupted—but admittedly you thought his rambling was super cute.
“I should—”
“You definitely need to go.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a still-breathless smile. “Um—what’s your number?”
You look around fruitlessly for pen and paper.
“I don’t—”
“Just tell me. I’ll remember.”
He’s so weird.
A breeze hits your skin as he opens the door. You’re already writing your wedding vows in the back of your mind as you watch him go.
#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fic
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when you call them your husband | ot13
❥ seungcheol
goes through five stages of a mental breakdown, because what did you just call him??? if you ever called him your husband in front of people, cheol would turn into a stuttering mess with cheeks as red as a tomato. if you did it when you were by yourselves he’d start whining like a bitch, getting shy as hell, because why are you messing with his heart like that? on rare days, though, he’d embrace the husband figure and start calling you “wife” and make you shy
❥ jeonghan
so smug - no one would be able to wipe that studpid ass smirk off of his face. it does mess with him a bit, though, because come on - calling him your husband??? but he’d try his best to act unaffected, because it’s jeonghan, and he needs to be cool :))) (i’m going to repeat this so many times throughout this headcanon, but all of them would start to freak out a bit thinking about a day when this won’t be a joke anymore, hannie included)
❥ joshua
is he really surprised when you call him your husband? not really. he knows he’s a husband material, and you often make jokes about him being your husband anyways. that doesn’t mean he isn’t freaking about it on the inside, though, because no matter how many times you call him that as a silly little joke, it still makes him so incredibly happy that one day, he’ll really be your husband, and you won’t be calling him that as a joke anymore
❥ jun
one of the “turns into a shy, blushy, and a stuttering mess” squad. he’d malfunction at first, point at himself, and melt into a puddle of fluff, and love. one - how dare you call him your literal husband as a joke??? second - give him all the kisses, and hugs, because his first instincts is to run away, and break out in tears from all the love. he doesn’t really know what to do with himself after you say that word, but you can be sure it’ll be in his head for the rest of the day
❥ hoshi
soonyoung would be confused for a second, because “wait, are you talking about me?” and when he’d finally understand that, yes - you were talking about him (because who else would you be talking about), he’d get so smiley and giggly and shy, and just turn into the cutest bean. he’d immediately cling to you, wrapping his arms around you and trapping you in a warm hug, giggling like a maniac
❥ wonwoo
cue shy wonwoo with his lil cat smile. he can’t help the butterflies fluttering in his tummy, and as much as he’d want to tease you for calling him your husband, he’d be too shy to actually do it. you calling him that would make him so happy for some reason, even though he knows that you mainly do it as a prank or a joke to mess with him. don’t do it in front of people, though, or he’ll run away
❥ woozi
“anything for you, baby.” woozi always indulges in all of your silly antics and jokes, and this time it’d be no different. he’d try to act as unaffected as he could, but his acting skills are not always the best, so you’d still be able to catch a glimpse of a small smile and blushy cheeks. he isn't the type to think about marriage, kids, and your domestic future together, he prefers to focus on what you have now, but hearing that word coming from you, would make his heart flutter a bit faster
❥ dk
“yes, i am.” smiles cutely at you, and gives you a bone crushing hug, while freaking the fuck out on the inside. he won’t comment on it too much in the moment, but the way he’d be extra clingy throughout the day, giving you ten times more kisses, and hugs, and pouts, and any physical affection. the thought of becoming your husband some day is so??? because it will happen someday, and that’s kind of crazy
❥ mingyu
cue mingoo giggles, because that man would not be able to behave himself after hearing the word husband from you. will whine, smile, laugh, hug you, pick you up and spin you around like a lovesick teenager, and when he finally calms down, he’d give you the biggest smooch. even though you had marriage talks plenty of times before - you both knew you’d get married some time in the feature, hearing it from you - saying it so casually, messed with his heart so much
❥ minghao
as someone who has mentioned a couple of times before that he wants to get married, hearing the word “husband” coming from you would make him so so happy and giddy, to the point where he’d just stand there with a lovesick smile on his face, and the urge to hug and kiss the life out of you (he wouldn’t though, he has to keep his composure) (but don’t worry, he’d kiss your forehead and tell you how much he loves you) (all with an adorable blush covering his cheeks)
❥ seungkwan
turns into a shy and blushy mess. seungkwan’s first instinct is to hide his face in his hands or your neck, so you wouldn’t see the effect that the word had on him (even though you could clearly see how it affected him). then he’d probably proceed to yell at you (lovingly) for making such mean jokes (he wants to be your husband now, boyfriend is not enough)
❥ vernon
at first he would think that he had misheard you, so you’d have to repeat the word two or three more times, because why would you ever call him your husband? and when you’d clarify that, yes - you did say the word “husband”, and yes - it was directed to him, vernon would just stare at you with big eyes but no thoughts. you’d laugh at him immediately, because the lack of his reaction was even funnier than if he’d react. then he’d say “thank you” and proceed with the rest of his day with the word “husband” floating around his head
❥ chan
leechan.exe has stopped working. looks at you with the biggest puppy eyes, pointing at himself, as if he was asking if you were really talking about him. it’s so crazy to him that you’d call him that even as a joke, because hearing the word “husband” coming from you is??? hello??? and the fact that someday he’ll really be your husband??? you can expect chan to be a bit more clingy than he usually is (a bit more pouty too, because what do you mean you called him that as a joke?)
taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @soul-is-a-strange-kid @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau
#seventeen#seventeen imagines#seventeen x you#seventeen x reader#seventeen reactions#svt reactions#seventeen kpop#seventeen fluff#svt fluff#seventeen carat#seventeen reaction#seventeen requests#seungcheol#jeonghan#joshua#woozi#wen junhui#wonwoo#vernon#svt#seungkwan#dino#svt woozi#mingyu#minghao#hoshi#chwe vernon
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˖⁺｡˚⋆˙days like these | DR3˖⁺｡˚⋆˙
pairing: daniel ricciardo x y/n reader (she/her)
genre: social media au, established relationship
warnings: random fluffy shite
summary: in which you're so active on social media and your fans eat it up
a/n: kind of the daniel version of This Fic i made from a lando request !!!
my masterlist
twitter ->
instagram ->
yourusername
liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, and 332,782 others
yourusername your favs
tagged: danielricciardo
view all 3,193 comments
maxverstappen1 neither of you are my favourites
yourusername you stink + no one asked + ratio + my bf is hotter than urs
maxverstappen1 what are you saying to me right now
yourusername you heard me
danielricciardo hahahahah
maxverstappen1 daniel tell your girlfriend to leave me alone please
yourusername this is literally my post
user3 y/n is the funniest & best wag tbh she's literally right she is our fav
user4 im in love with u
danielricciardo wow you are gorgeous and amazing
yourusername i know right
user5 i love them so bad
twitter ->
instagram ->
danielricciardo
liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 881,034 others
danielricciardo girl is always eating
tagged: yourusername
view all 12,729 comments
yourusername what is wrong with you
danielricciardo huh??
yourusername WHY WOULD YOU POST THESE UGLY ASS PICS OF ME
danielricciardo wtf you literally look hot as hell
maxverstappen1 😂😂😂
yourusername i know you aint laughing at me sloth verstappen
maxverstappen1 🤐🤐🤐
user9 how can someone still look this hot whilst eating
user10 omg i love her
user11 now this is why she's everyone's fav wag
user12 reason 10292 more like
francisca.cgomes how did you bag such a hottie
danielricciardo ask myself this everyday
yourusername OMG KIKA im blushing
danielricciardo wow she doesnt care when i compliment her
francisca.cgomes what can i say 🤷♀️
twitter ->
instagram ->
yourusername
liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo, and 289,061 others
yourusername beach day with my gf
tagged: francisca.cgomes
view all 6,293 comments
pierregasly ???
yourusername and what do u want
pierregasly my girlfriend back?
yourusername not right now, sorry
francisca.cgomes the girls are fighting over mee
user16 I LOVE THEMMM OMG
user17 wag besties 🥹
francisca.cgomes i love u
yourusername i love you
danielricciardo so this is why u didnt text me back today
yourusername I DROPPED MY PHONE IN THE SEA OK
maxverstappen1 😂😂😂
yourusername next time i see u it's on site
maxverstappen1 😰
user18 hahaha max never says a word and still gets roasted
maxverstappen1
liked by landonorris, kellypiquet, and 917,892 others
maxverstappen1 Cool 😎
view all 11,013 comments
user19 IS THAT DANIEL & Y/N IN THE LAST SLIDE
user20 LOL more comments about y/n than max himself
kellypiquet ❤️❤️
liked by maxverstappen1
user29 Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N ‼️
yourusername obsessed with my man much
maxverstappen1 i'll block you
yourusername booooooo max verstappen booooooooo tomatoes tomatoes
danielricciardo be nice y/n
yourusername no
maxverstappen1 what is wrong with her
user30 i cant tell if y/n actually has real beef with max or not 😭😭
user31 surely not hahah she's literally in his photo dump
twitter ->
instagram ->
danielricciardo
liked by yourusername, francisca.cgomes, and 771,829 others
danielricciardo my woman
tagged: yourusername
view all 8,183 comments
user35 bet he's sucking up to her
user36 awww the flower in the plastic cup
user37 the bows on the uggs she's just a girl fr
yourusername i havent forgotten what you said daniel
danielricciardo im sorry for calling you unemployed even though you are
yourusername right.
maxverstappen1 a taste of your own medicine for once
*comment deleted by maxverstappen1*
yourusername i saw that maxverstappen1
maxverstappen1 saw what
user37 boooo we want y/n & daniel fluff
danielricciardo she wont love me anymore
user38 get her some flowers or something daniel
user39 yea man up
yourusername 🤔
danielricciardo give the people what they want
yourusername fine i forgive u. and i love u
danielricciardo ! i love you so much
user40 and the crowd goes wild!!!
THE END ❤️
#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 smau#f1 x reader#smau#daniel ricciardo#dr3#dr3 x reader#dr3 imagine#dr3 fluff#dr3 smau#maddie's smau
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Hey have a request I’d love to see a fic like this:
Dad!Eddie x mom!reader their reaction when their 18 year old daughter comes home with her first real boyfriend turns out it’s a metalhead like Eddie :)
I hope you can do something like this <3
This is so cute, and I love the idea. I just picture Eddie being a complete girl dad. Hope you enjoy. 🩷
Requests are open for the time being.
Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom!reader
Warning: none, just some fluff.
A/n: This is fluff, but I still do not want minors interacting with my work. Not proofread
"He's coming over!" Your daughter Julie raced down the stairs yelling out to you.
Eddie looked up from his phone with his reading glasses hanging off his nose. "Who's coming over? He?"
You saw him looking towards you and then back at your daughter. She just turned eighteen a few months ago. She was born on July tenth. Which was also the birthday of Ronnie James Dio. Something Eddie never stopped bragging about saying it's "the most metalest thing ever."
He fell in love all over again the moment she was born. She was glued to his hip. Anywhere he went, she went. If he was eating, so was she. If Eddie got a tattoo, then he was buying her one out of the bubble gum machine for her to match.
He couldn't stand watching her grow up. Seeing her go from this tiny little thing to a young woman was difficult on you both. She had his eyes and dimples along with his sarcasm.
"Oh, uhh, her boyfriend Eddie, remember he's coming for dinner." You reminded him while trying to keep things calm.
"Boyfriend?" He repeated.
Julie rolled her eyes. " Yeah dad boyfriend you know the guy I've been telling you and mom about for like the last two months."
Eddie didn't say a word back. He knew he couldn't stop her from dating. He actually didn't hate the idea of her dating. He hated the idea of some guy hurting her.
That's all it really came down to. He's tried so hard to shield her from all the bad in the world. But you've helped him realize that's impossible, and he needs to just let her learn.
Once your daughter left for the day, you sat with your husband. You wanted to take his mind off of things and just help him relax. He already possibly has high blood pressure. You didn't want to make it worse.
"You wanna go out back and work on your tomatoes? " You got up and started massaging his shoulders.
He smiled and took off his glasses. "I actually gotta tune up my bike, but maybe tomorrow, sweetheart."
"Are you okay?" You leaned down by his ear.
"I'm fine-- I'll be fine." He reassured you. You turned your head and gave him a little kiss to his cheek.
He was still as handsome as the first time you saw him. His eyes have the prettiest crinkles from all of the years of laughing. His smile lines are visible under his stubble. His hair is starting to finally grey in certain parts. You've been together since you were practically kids.
You and him fell in love the millisecond you laid eyes on each other. Your parents hated him at first. They tried so hard to keep you two apart, but you weren't having it. Nothing was going to keep Eddie away from you.
He tried so hard to win your parents over, mainly your dad. Since your mom softened up when she got to know him better. Your dad was a different story. Your dad didn't like his look.
The tattoos, hair, and music he was strictly against. Eddie was used to being treated like that. He was used to people judging him before they really knew him. That doesn't mean he still didn't try to get your father's approval because he did. All the time, with little to no luck.
You noticed Eddie had been in his garage all day. He said he had to give his bike a quick tune-up, but that usually only takes a few hours. He's been out there since this morning. You look at the clock, and it's now going on 4 pm. Julie has been home now for just an hour or so. She wanted to get ready in time to introduce you to her boyfriend.
You know he's nervous about meeting Julie's boyfriend. He doesn't want to seem like some weird overbearing parent. This is her first serious relationship, it seems like. Eddie wants to be protective, but he doesn't want to scare the guy off. He doesn't want your daughter to hate him.
A loud knocking knocking at the front door tells you he's here. Before you could even leave the kitchen to answer it, Eddie somehow is already there.
He swings open the door and is met with a guy not much taller than him. He has short dark hair with a denim vest similar to his old one. Various pins and patches littered all over it. He was wearing an old Slayer shirt underneath with black boots.
Eddie eyed him curiously. "Whooo are you?"
"Oh, I'm um, Noah...Julie's boyfriend." He held out to his to shake Eddie's. His other hand held some flowers in it.
Foot steps come running up next to them both, and it took Eddie a moment to process who they belonged to.
"Dad, this is Noah." Julie took his hand and brought him inside.
"Right-nice to meet you." He finally shook his hand back as he walked past him.
Eddie was stunned. The second he saw him, he got instant flashbacks of when he was younger going to meet your parents for the first time. He wanted to hate the guy. He wants to be this tough, hard ass to him. But now he can't bring himself to do any of that.
"Eddie, come help me with dinner." You whispered.
"Yeah - Yeah, okay, I'm coming." He shook his head and smiled to himself.
"He bought me flowers." You pointed at the vase holding the bouquet.
"So i buy you flowers all the time." Eddie shrugged, still trying to keep up the facade that he doesn't like the guy.
He grabbed a knife and helped cut up some onions. He looked out the window in front of him and watched your daughter and her boyfriend outside. You stopped what you were doing to focus on them, too. You saw how Eddie's eyes had softened when Noah put a little buttercup flower behind her ear.
You and him instantly had memories flooding in from your earlier years as a couple. Where Eddie would find a pretty flower and put it behind your ear. Or how he would lay with you for hours looking up at the stars. You could see he was getting a little emotional about it. More memories of picnics together in the back of his van.
"You gonna cut those onions or keep zoning out?" You nudged him.
"Sorry, I'm ju- I'm just thinking." He spoke quietly.
You went over to him and rubbed his back. "About?"
"I'm supposed to be a dick head to him, but I can't bring myself to be that way" Eddie kept looking out the window, watching Noah with your daughter.
"Who said you had to be that way?" You looked out to where he was.
He shook his head. "No one... I'm just being over dramatic like usual."
After dinner was over. Noah and Julie were sitting on the couch together while Eddie was sitting in his chair. You were busy getting dessert ready for everyone.
"Hey dad, did I tell you Noah is in a band." Julie giggled.
Eddies face lit up. "No, you didn't. do you play?"
"Uhh, well, I used to drum, but now I sing." Noah informed him. He acted a little shy to even have it brought up so suddenly. He felt put on the spot.
He nods "I used to be in a band too."
"Really?" Noah moved a little closer towards Eddie leaving Julie behind at the other end of the couch.
"Yep, I used to play guitar and sing, actually." Eddie smiled and looked proud to be talking about his former band days again.
"I have some old stuff in my garage where my band "toured" for a bit and my old gear." He pointed behind him.
"Can we check it out?" Noah looked like a kid in a candy store when Eddie mentioned his old gear.
"Follow me," He grunted while getting out of his chair. His knees popped as he stood up. Years of hard work finally taking its toll on his body.
Julie just sat there watching her boyfriend and her dad, leaving her all alone in the living room. You were busy in the kitchen cutting cake and putting the pieces onto plates.
"Guys, dessert is ready!" You jogged to the living room to find it empty except for your daughter.
She rolled her eyes "they're in the garage."
You couldn't help but chuckle.
All day, you had anticipated this first meeting to be a disaster. Now you have your husband and your daughters boyfriend playing guitar together. You know Eddie didn't have a mean bone in his body. Even at his cruelest, he was still considered nice to most.
"Think dad likes him?" Julie crossed her arms, looking annoyed. She was being sarcastic. You could tell by her tone.
You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying hard not to laugh. "He hates him, I'm sure."
You could hear them both screeching from out back. Heavy metal loudly playing, and Eddie's old guitar plugged in. You and your daughter sat eating dessert, trying to drown out all the music. The night ended with Noah being invited back over next weekend. While Eddie was upstairs putting ice on his now sore neck. He forgot his age for a few hours and became that young twenty something man again.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#joseph quinn#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson blurb#dad!eddie x mom!reader#dad!eddie munson
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UNEXPECTED KISSES
PJO: perseus jackson x fem!reader
SYNOPSIS: it was like the universe had a thing against you & percy locking lips.
CATEGORY: fluff & short
WORD COUNT: 226
Percy Jackson had been dating this amazing demigod who'd joined Camp Half-Blood not too long ago. And not long ago they'd been trying to share their first kiss for what felt like ages, but every time they got close, some campers or monsters would show up and ruin the moment.
It was like the universe had a thing against them locking lips.
Then, one day, Percy was stressing out big time because he had this quest coming up. He was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, and the poor guy was a nervous as heck.
You, being the awesome demigod you were, had had enough of the interruptions and Percy's stress.
So, you did something kind of unexpected – you grabbed Percy by his belt and planted a big kiss right on his lips.
Percy's face turned redder than a tomato, and he was all like, "Uhh, thanks?" Smooth move, Percy. Real smooth.
But you know what? It worked! The stress just melted away. “Feel better?” you asked, raising your eyebrow teasingly at your boyfriend.
Percy was like. “Can you do that again?” And off they went, kissing their way to victory – well, not really, but you get the idea.
#percy jackson#percy series#percy jackson fluff#percy jackson imagine#percy jackson pjo#percy jackson oneshot#percy jackson icons#percy jackson headcanon#percy and annabeth#percy jackon and the olympians#percy pjo#percy x reader#percy x fem reader#percy jackson x y/n#percy x yn#percy jackson x you#percy jackson x reader#perseus jackson x reader#perseus jackson#percy and grover#percy fluff#percy jackson incorrect quotes#camp half blood#annabeth chase x reader#annabeth chase#poseidon#percy#percy jackson x fem!reader#perseus jackson x fem!reader#percy jackson heroes of olympus
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Op boys reaction when their s/o accidentally calls them by their pet names infront of their friends
Warning:SFW, Fluff, pet names
Feat:Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law, Kid, Killer
Luffy
—He will look at you with a wide smile spread across his face. "Yes?" Some of his friends might be looking at you with a surprised face (while you were embarrassed about it), and he will approach you and hold your hand. "You look like a tomato," he said while laughing.
Sanji
—It will be so dramatic. "Isn't that cute?" he said as he approached you and started praising you. "Don't be embarrassed," he said while hugging you tightly in his arms. "What a nice pet name," Usopp said while laughing so hard. It made you cry. Sanji kicks his face and starts comforting you.
Zoro
—will be very surprised when you call him that. "W-what?!" He said as he was looking at you with wide eyes. Nami and the others start laughing about it, and you just run away because of embarrassment. "I guess you should follow you're, baby," Namin teased. Zoro let out a sigh before following you.
Law
—will be stunned for a few seconds before realizing what you have called him. "Sorry, boss!" You said as you ran away. Law let out a loud sigh. "Let's just call this a day," he said before leaving the room. "I didn't know that boss can be called sweetie when he is a bit of a bitter guy," Shachi said while looking at his friends.
Kid
—He might blush a little bit. "Yes, darling," he said as he looked at you with a smile on his face. Some of your companions look at you with a teasing smile. "Umm, sorry!" You said before leaving. "I didn't know that you and Y/N had a relationship," killer said as he started laughing.
Killer
—"Yes, princess." Some of his companions might start laughing, but he will not. He knew that you might feel embarrassed. He approached you and hugged you tight. "Ignore them," he said as he pressed a kiss on your forehead.
#One piece#one piece x reader#one piece x s/o#one piece x y/n#op#op x reader#op x s/o#one piece scenarios#one piece canons#one piece writing#Luffy x reader#zoro x reader#sanji x reader#kid x reader#law x reader#killer x reader#kazenomegaminowanpisu#one piece#hannaemeraldwhitedragon#writing#anime
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youre so right bc elijah really went THRU it and then they just gave him the l???? like even the dude who hated him said hed win??? this is legit so sad like wtf
And he was going to quit too like
poor boi
As fir my fave...idk? they're all pretty good...idk, the mario guy is sweet. also i kinda like ethan. And that other guy with the magic thing is pretty hot. but i like ethan more maybe... can i say all? i wanna say all?
Also are there more tc content creators out there?
hellyuuuuuu again!!!
exactly, and I hope everything turns out for the better for him.
also ye why not? everyone is cool! (minus zach, jj and donovan)
um, tc content creators I'm friends with are @iamthatanon and @backshotsdevil. they both post tc content, and I hope that the tc fandom expands more!
-your diamond <3
#elijah x reader fluff#elijah zelenoff#the tomato can x reader#the tomato can x male reader#the tomato can webtoon#the tomato can x you#the tomato can#kublai khan x reader#ttc x you#elijah x reader#elijah x y/n#the tomato can fluff#kublai khan#the tomato can elijah#elija zelenoff#please ttc content#ttc#guys please I'm a simp for the mc#like you don't understand#he's a golden boyyyyy#Vasily Vadymovych Vovchanchyn x reader#Vasily Vadymovych Vovchanchyn x you#Vasily Vadymovych Vovchanchyn x female reader#V-Cube x reader#Ethan x reader#Ethan the tomato can#Zach x reader#Ethan John x reader#bokassa jean x reader#bokassa x reader
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You Think I'm Delicious?
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.
“i don’t like your new perfume.”
genre: fluff & crack
word count: 1.9k
author's notes: here's a spencer reid fluff without plot, just crack (i tried so i hope you'll laugh while reading this). anyway, enjoy reading this one! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).
THE THING ABOUT DR. SPENCER REID IS THAT HE’S A VERY SENSITIVE PERSON. He's very particular about stuff like his dislikes for certain textures and not knowing about something—making him a good researcher by the way, because if he doesn't know something, you'll find him poring through books—and even certain smells aren't an exception. One might think that this is normal with his job because, of course, he does. He has probably smelled dead bodies more than he has smelled fresh flowers. Of course, he hates smells like rotten flesh. Disgusting, honestly. But, what can he do? That is part of his job.
So, when he suddenly tugged you to his side one day to hug you, you were excited for him to take note of your new perfume and love it. No, you were certain he’d love it just as much as you did when you first took a whiff at the store. You just had to buy it because you were sure he’d go crazy over your smell. He’d tuck his face into your neck and shower you with pecks. Because despite what everyone else thinks they know about Spencer having an aversion to touch, he was quite the cuddler when he was in love. And yes, you were the lucky recipient of his comforting hugs 24/7.
However, all your dreams and hopes of getting cuddly with Spencer were shattered when he uttered those six words.
“I don’t like your new perfume.”
Your jaw dropped as soon as he said that distressing sentence. Meanwhile, Spencer was quick to move away from you and continue what he was doing previously—playing chess by himself. Sometimes, if only you didn’t love your boyfriend and didn’t have to face charges, you would strangle him for a lot of things. One of which was being nonchalant after just dropping a bomb like that. What does he mean by you smell bad? You bought a citrus-scented perfume that hurt your pockets; you’ll have to give up your afternoon snacks at the cafe near the FBI headquarters. So, like any good partner out there, you just had to instigate a little argument over your new perfume.
“Excuse me?”
Your boyfriend looked up at your incredulous tone, merely raising a brow at you as if to ask, “What’s up?” This almost got your eye twitching, but you refrained. Taking a breath, you plastered a sickly sweet smile on your face and clarified your previous question.
“What do you mean you don’t like my new perfume?”
Spencer started reddening at your accusatory tone and shrugged halfheartedly, which made you raise one perfectly formed brow at your boyfriend. Now, you’re curious why your boyfriend blushed at your question.
He may be quite shy, but Spencer wasn’t the best when it came to social cues. He rarely gets embarrassed about something unless you blatantly point it out. You could probably count on one hand the number of times he flushed pink. A funny memory you have of him reddening like a tomato was when the BAU were out interviewing streetwalkers. Despite his social awkwardness, Spencer was propositioned by all the women he talked to. You could still remember the exact look he had on his face when he had to pull his tie away from the woman, who was busy rolling it on her fingers.
God, he’s so precious, you’d keep him in your pocket if you could. But right now, he isn’t your favorite person, and you’d love nothing more than to figure out why he was blushing. You were sure there was something behind all those burning cheeks.
“Spencer,” you slowly enunciated the syllables of his name, making him look at you once again. He tilted his head in question as you sighed dramatically, “Out with it.”
“What?”
“You’re flushed pink. You’re picking at your nails, and your right knee just started bouncing.” You pointed it out, and Spencer tried to remedy every single thing you mentioned. “Baby, for a profiler, you’re not doing great at hiding stuff. Tell me what’s going on.”
He scowled and crossed his arms like a petulant child, definitely wishing you weren’t a profiler, and a damn good one at that, like him. You merely chuckled at his antics and crossed your arms in retaliation. No, you weren’t backing away from this one. You spent money on perfume, hoping your boyfriend would love it. But no, he hated it, and now, you have to know why.
You could hear the ticking of the wall clock—if you focused hard enough—with the way not a single sound could be heard from the both of you waiting for the other to cave—not even a phone call from Garcia telling you that you have a case and, you have to be in the office in fifteen minutes could disrupt your focus right now. You could say the same about your boyfriend right now, who is intently staring at your phones on the table. He was probably hoping a work call would come through to save his ass from getting interrogated by you. It’s kind of sick that one would want to hear a new body was found, but at least you’d be out there catching another bad guy and locking them up, never to see the light of day until their last breath. He would rather have a face-off with a murderer than his girlfriend, whom he’s pretty sure is close to resorting to violence for borderline calling her stinky—not really, you’re just dramatic like that.
“Well, for starters, I think it’s strong like I’m drowning in it,” Spencer emphasized the word strong, making your brows furrow. He didn’t have that problem with your previous perfume, and it was stronger—he’s hiding something. You stared pointedly at your boyfriend now, who was fidgeting like crazy under your scrutiny.
“Are you sure that’s it? You didn’t have that problem with my previous perfume, which I’m pretty sure is much stronger than this one.” You clarified, tilting your head to the side as you explained further. “Garcia loved the smell of flowers, but she told me she sneezed every time I passed by. She had to ask me to change the scents immediately. And despite the complaints, you loved it so much that you would tuck your face into my neck.”
At this point, Spencer looked like he was about to burst from an aneurysm with how red he had gotten. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry, but you also had to make him suffer.
“Tell me, Spencer. Or else, I might just have to resort to other tactics.” You almost cackled at the way your boyfriend looked like he’d rather start digging a hole for him to bury himself in. “And you know, I’m a great profiler. I always get what I want.”
However, as soon as you said those words, you noticed Spencer’s eyes drifting towards a half-full bottle sitting on his little desk filled with heaps of paperwork.
Oh. That’s the problem.
“Baby, I think I know what the problem is here.”
Spencer quickly leaped off your couch to avoid getting teased by you—which wasn’t your plan at all, by the way—and was about to run into your bedroom, but you were quick on your feet and were able to catch his arm and pull him towards you. Yep, unfortunately for your boyfriend, you were better when it came to physical activities.
Although you were better at that angle, you still weren’t able to properly estimate the way you pulled him into you because both of you ended up toppling over on your couch. Luckily, it was the couch, because you’re sure Hotch would have your heads served on a platter if both of his agents were injured and there was a sudden case.
You both landed unceremoniously, with Spencer squeaking as he ended up face-first into your chest, and you groaned as you cushioned his fall. Choosing to pause for a moment, you ran your hands through his brown curls as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer seemed to agree with that idea as he started inhaling your scent, which made you smile a bit.
“You know, it’s not that I hate your perfume because it smells bad.” Spencer started explaining in a hushed tone, “I just liked it better when you smelled like me.”
Your eyes widened at his confession. This was the first time Spencer had ever said something possessive. Despite not being the usual alpha male girls go for, Spencer had enough confidence in himself that you chose him out of all the guys out there you could’ve gone for. At the start of your relationship, you made it clear to him that he was the one you wanted to be with. Not someone as domineering as Hotch or someone as bold as Morgan.
No, you wanted Spencer.
You wanted to be with Spencer.
So, you were shocked at your boyfriend’s display of possessiveness, but at the same time, you found it cute that he wanted you to smell like him. It wasn’t every day that he wanted to engage in a public display of affection. And just like any other girlfriend out there who enjoyed the attention you got from your boyfriend, you laughed as you tried to pull Spencer’s face towards yours.
“God, you’re so adorable, Dr. Reid,” you exclaimed as you peppered his face with pecks and pinched his cheeks as he tried to dodge, embarrassed after saying he wanted you to use his perfume, “I could eat your face!”
“We don’t want that." Spencer said, "The BAU would lose two of their best agents with me inside your gastrointestinal tract and you in jail for cannibalism.”
You rolled your eyes at him as he blinked at you innocently. Sometimes, you hate his brain.
“Stop taking things literally!" You exclaimed to your boyfriend, "You know what I’m talking about!”
“I don’t.” Spencer frowned. You could hear the cogs in his brain start working, meaning he was about to spew out some facts. “Actually, our senses of smell and taste are directly related. They both use the same types of receptors, so if you smell something that you think is delicious, this triggers the same area of the brain that activates our salivary glands. Wait, you think I’m delicious?”
You facepalmed yourself. For a guy with an IQ of 187, your boyfriend could be an idiot.
“You’re an idiot.”
“No, I’m not!” Spencer protested and explained some more, “Seeing an object, food, or even a person that is pleasing to the eye can cause people to salivate. Pleasant smells such as your favorite food, your partner’s natural scent, or smelling perfume on your partner can stimulate the production of saliva more than looking at that person. This process can initiate feelings of wanting to eat or bite.”
Despite his protests, you simply clucked and pinched his nose. Wanting to retaliate, Spencer continued spilling his tangents.
“Aha! You like me so much, my smell makes you want to bite me!”
“You know what, Spence?” You asked sweetly at your boyfriend, who was now listening intently to you. He’ll never know what hit him. “I love you so much, but I preferred it when you got embarrassed about wanting me to smell like you.”
By your admission, Spencer started blushing profusely again as he tried to bury his face in your neck.
“Shut up!”
“I love you too, Spence.”
#criminal minds#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid fandom#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid crack#spencer reid fic#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid oneshot#criminal minds fic#established relationship#domestic fluff
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Hello! How do you think König (or any of the guys really) would react to you calling them "my sweet lil guy"?
Thanks for this request!!🩷🩵🩷🩵 I just did this for multiple characters, as I thought this would be funny to see them! They’re short and sweet!
141 + Königs Reactions to Reader Calling Them "My Sweet Lil Guy."
Warnings: slight swearing, fluff, slight sexual references
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Simon Ghost Riley-
“Bloody hell.” Simon groaned, his hands moving to grasp at his back. “Damn thing hurts.”
"Awe, my sweet lil guy got a backache?" You teased, moving to rub Simon's back gently.
Simon turned, slowly, toward you a look of mock horror on his face. "The hell you just call me?"
You bit your lip to prevent a giggle, watching the confusion on your boyfriend's face with amusement. "My... sweet lil guy?"
Simon stared at you, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but little isn’t one of them.”
“First for everything I suppose.” You shrugged your shoulders, struggling not to crack a smile under Simon’s intense stare.
“You’re a little brat, you know that?” Simon chuckled, kissing your temple.
“I’m the little brat, you’re the sweet lil guy.” You teased, scrunching your nose at him.”
“You’re pushing it, kid.”
Johnny Soap MacTavish-
“Everyone, I’d like for you to meet Johnny.” You smiled, introducing your boyfriend to your group of friends.
"Is this the "sweet lil guy" you've been telling us all about?" Your friend asked as she regarded Johnny with a smile.
Johnny blinked a few times before looking at you. "Your sweet lil guy?"
Your friend gave a hearty chuckle. "Yep, they call you thay all the time."
“Tha’ so?” Johnny quirked a brow at you, a devious smile making its way to his lips.
“Johnny no, pl-.” You started, but Johnny was quick to cut you off.
“That’s not what they were screaming in bed last night.”
Oh yeah, he won your friends over that night.
John Price-
“Cmon, sweetheart. It’s past midnight, surely you can put the book down and go to bed.” John groaned, it was well past his bedtime.
“Is my sweet lil guy tired?” You cooed, turning to face John in bed. “Promise I’m almost done.”
"Your sweet lil guy?" He looked at you, bemused by your nickname. “That really what comes to mind when you think of me?”
“Sure is.” You faked a yawn, flipping over to finish the chapter of the book you were reading.
John wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. “Yeah, you’re sure about that?”
Your cheeks burned crimson, the prominent bulge in your lovers boxers now pressing hard against your back. “Y-yes.”
“Give me about two minutes. Once my cocks inside that pretty little mouth of yours- you’ll be choking on those words.”
König-
“Maus, can you help me with these straps?” König asked, gesturing to the buckled straps of his vest. “I can’t reach them.”
“I’ve got you sweet lil guy.” You chuckled, making your way over to him. You began to fiddle with the straps before he stopped you, abruptly turning to face you.
Königs cheeks became beat red as he stuttered out his words. "W-what?"
“Sweet lil guy? I meant it as a term of endearment Kö.” You blinked a few times, watching as your boyfriend’s face became as red as a tomato.
König couldn’t explain why.. exactly the name had him feeling so flustered. He was ANYTHING but small, in any regard, but he…liked the thought. It made him feel you didn’t find his large stature menacing, and the thought was comforting to him.
“Can you.. call me that again?”
Kyle Gaz Garrick-
“Damnit!” Kyle exclaimed, running his hands over his head in frustration. “I was so fucking close! I had him!”
"Did my sweet lil guy lose?" You chided, watching your boyfriend throw his controller on the couch in frustration.
“Yeah. I fucking did. I’ve been trying to beat that game all.. wait what did you call me?” Kyle whipped his head around to you, and it took everything in you not to laugh.
“My sweet lil guy is throwing a tantrum.” You giggled, watching as the corners of his lips turned upward. “Does baby need a kiss to make it better.”
Kyle nodded, his bottom lip pouting slightly. “I do.”
You bit your lip in amusement, before wrapping your arms around your boyfriend pulling him close to you. “I’ve got you baby boy.”
Kyle wouldn’t ever admit it, to anyone, but he certainly wouldn’t complain if you wanted to call him that again.
#simon riley imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#cod imagine#mw2 imagine#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#konig x reader#konig imagine#konig mw2#johnny soap mactavish#soap imagine#soap x reader#price imagine#price x reader#gaz imagine
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Lift and learn.
Synopsis: You discover Ghost’s unique skill; estimating the weight of items just by lifting them. You decide to challenge his ability by giving him little tests and he (for once in his life) loves to show off.
Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader
Word Count: 1,381 (approx. 5-6 minutes reading time.)
Notes:
Mindless, platonic fluff with minimal plot.
Want more?
———————————————————————
The storage room is vast and poorly lit, with rows of metal shelves stretching into the distance. The air conditioning blows cool air throughout the facility, with only the gentle hum of the units and refrigerators breaking the silence. You and Ghost stand at the entrance, surveying the endless supply of crates and boxes ahead of you.
“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” you remark, kicking a nearby stack of boxes.
Ghost nods. “Come on,” he says as he walks between the shelves, “the faster we start, the faster we’ll be done with it.”
You follow him, walking down the first row of shelves, scanning the labels on the boxes and crates to see what they contain.
He checks the list you made with the food you’ll need for the mission, and he points toward the direction of the canned goods.
“Go look for the soup,” he advises, “and don’t lift the crate yourself.”
You turn to face him. “Why not, sir?”
“That thing weighs about 20 kgs,” he says, “you won’t be able to lift it alone.”
“Is that so?” you raise your brows. Ghost lets out a long sigh.
“I don’t doubt your abilities, soldier—I just know the box is too heavy to be lifted from up high,” he says. “I don’t want you to get hurt, and you don’t want to clean tomato soup off the floors now, do you?”
You roll your eyes and walk over to the box in question. You turn to glance at Ghost out of the corner of your eye—he’s ticking things off the list. You decide to give it a shot. You take a deep breath and grasp the box by its handles, attempting to pull it off the shelf. Your arms strain as you put all your weight into it, but the crate doesn’t budge. You try again, but it’s in vain.
Just as you’re about to give up, Ghost appears at your side.
“Told ya; it’s a heavy box,” he says, amused.
You step back, allowing him to take your place. He grips the box and lifts it off the shelf.
“That’s over 20 kgs.” He comments as he curls the box. “Around 24 kgs, I’d say.”
You stare at the box as it moves up and down, then at him. He approaches the large food scale and places the box on it. As he predicted, the box weights precisely the amount he estimated.
“Do you do this a lot?��� you ask.
“No,” he says, chuckling, “I normally curl barbells.”
“Estimating the weight of something just by lifting it?” you clarify, “I saw you do it before when we were packing stuff from the armoury.”
“Ah,” he says, flicking his wrist, “it’s nothing.”
He surely doesn’t act like “it’s nothing.” He’s trying to portray himself as humble. But he looks far too cocky about it. He puffs out his chest and places his hands on his waist. His head tilts a little higher, and he squints his eyes, resulting in narrow creases at their corners. There’s also a slight stiffness in his upper body muscles. Is he flexing? Yes. Yes, he’s desperate to show off his skill once more. And, of course, you don’t waste the opportunity.
You gesture to a massive stalk of bananas. “How much does that weigh?” You ask.
He walks towards the bananas, his hands still on his hips. “Ah,” he says as he lifts the stalk, “this should weigh around 1.3 kgs.” He states and places the bananas on the scale. He waits for the scale to flash and then turns to face you when it indicates just a little over the amount he predicted.
“Wow, Lieutenant!” You yell and clap your hands together. “Do it again!”
He takes a sharp breath from his nose and gestures with his hands. “Give me something more difficult this time.” he says with pride.
You look around the storage room and spot a pile of sandbags in the corner.
“Okay, how much does one of those weigh?” you ask.
He redirects his gaze to the sandbags. He shrugs. “30 kgs.” He says.
“That doesn’t count, Lt.,” you frown, “you didn’t even lift them.”
“I don’t have to lift them, Y/N; we fill sandbags to exactly 30 kgs each.” He explains and turns to look at you with a you-should-have-knew-that expression.
You decide to step up your game.
“Okay, Lt., what about me?” you ask, pointing to yourself.
He raises his index finger at you. “I’m not lifting you.” He states.
“Why not?” You ask, and he goes on to explain how it put him in trouble on a deployment about a decade ago. “Bananas, don’t get offended when you estimate them to be a few grams heavier.” He explains. You promise him you won’t be insulted, and he brings his right hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks to stop you.
“O’ay,” you mutter through your pinched lips, and he lets you go. “See this cardboard box over there?” You ask, and he turns to look in the direction of a big, beige-coloured box on the ground. It’s taped shut and sealed with no hint or label of what it might contain.
“Can you estimate its weight without looking what’s inside the box?” you ask.
He gives a short chuckle and mutters something like “if I can, she asks” under his breath before walking to the box. He tilts his head, trying to estimate its weight by looking at it. He stretches his arms and cracks his knuckles, readying himself for what he’s about to do. He gathers his cargo pants from his thighs, and lowers himself to the ground in a deadlift position, grabbing the box by the handles. He takes a deep breath and pulls the box up with all his might.
But the box turns out to be lighter than you both anticipated, making Ghost lose his balance. He stumbles backwards, his arms flapping as he tries to regain control of his body. In his panic, he forgets to let go of the box which seems to defy gravity, and it flies through the air, driven by the momentum of his fall.
“Lt.!” you yell as you hurry to him, kneeling on the floor, “are you okay, sir?”
He stares at the floor, then at you, then back at the ground. You grab his arm to pull him up, but his ego is too bruised to allow you to do that to him. He gets up on his own and dusts his trousers.
“I’m sorry, sir,” you apologise, “I had no idea.”
He crosses his arms in front of his chest—he looks defensive. “Neither of us knew, soldier,” he says, trying to reassure you, and walks towards the box.
“Huh,” he says as he lifts its flaps. “I fell backwards by a rocket explosion before,” he recalls, “but never by a cardboard box filled with sanitary pads.”
You giggle, and he shakes his head. He picks one of the packages and shows it to you. “Will you need a couple of these during our mission?” He asks.
“Yes, sir,” you reply, lowering your eyes to the ground.
He picks up two packs and puts one of them under his arm. “No shame in that, soldier,” he comforts you and shakes the other pack, “these babies almost broke my hip about a minute ago.”
You smile in response—at least he can make a joke out of this uncomfortable situation.
“You’re impressive, Lt.,” you comment, “a walking and breathing human scale.”
“Eh,” he shrugs as he crosses the final items off the list, “it helps with missions and loading up the trucks.”
“Now,” you continue, looking at the boxes you’ve collected for the mission, “how about we fill up the truck before one of us gets hurt in this warzone of a storage unit?”
He lets out a laugh. “Yes, let’s get outta here,” he agrees, “I don’t want to get jumped by a bunch of Kleenex.”
———————————————————————
#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#ghost cod#ghost cod mwii#ghost cod mw2#ghost posts#ghost call of duty#ghost mw2#cod mw2#cod mw2 fanfic
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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
part one | part two | part three
summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue lunch break visits, rocky road ice cream, a too-big bouquet, and the rainbow connection.
warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, tw talk of dying (and past lives)
𓆩❤︎𓆪
You're dozing against the back wall in the kitchen when Benny clears his throat. The grease back here while he's cooking tends to get pretty thick and you're tired to begin with. It's a recipe for nodding off.
Flinching into a proper standing position, you give your boss an apologetic smile. "What?" you ask, blinking hard.
"Your boy's here."
"My boy?"
"Curly hair, tattoos. Looks like he hasn't showered this week. Or any week, actually." Benny laughs, a chesty, self-satisfied chuckle.
You rush to his side, careful of the spitting hot grill, and follow his gaze out of the kitchen window. Eddie's about two seconds away from opening the glass door, clad in his smart work uniform.
"He's not my boy," you say.
Benny scrapes his spatula across the grill's bubbling surface and flips a burger. "If he's the reason you're tired today, you can consider him banned. He's ruining my best waitress."
"I'm your only waitress." The door opens. Eddie stops in the doorway and casts his gaze around the room. You hide behind the wall and fuss with your hair. "And no, he's not keeping me up. It's Junie." Isn't it always Junie? She's your baby and you adore her, but that doesn't mean she's getting any easier to handle. The terrible twos are persevering with a ferocity you can't quite withstand, or at the very least sleep through.
"He eating?" Benny asks.
"I'll go find out."
You wipe the oil from your nose and grimace as you walk out into the actual seating area of the diner. It's empty but for one person and Eddie, who grins when he sees you.
"Hey, sweet thing."
You try not to show how much you like being called 'sweet thing'. Your face must betray you somehow because Eddie's grin turns smug and he approaches until he's basically stepping on your toes.
"How's it hanging?"
You snort. "Benny asked if you're eating."
"What's today's special?"
"Cheeseburger."
He fixes your shirt collar. You can feel the warmth of his fingers and the cooler metal of a ring grace your throat. "Yeah, I'm eating."
You report back to Benny with his order and find the cook's already added two burgers to the grill. He points his spatula at the now grilled and constructed burger for Darren. If you hadn't taken it you'd still know who's it was; Benny's regulars are loyal to a fault. The same old guys come in here day in and day out, and they all want the same thing.
Quarter pounders.
You take it, twist around a childish Eddie trying to trip you up and deliver it to Darren, a frowny-faced farm-hand that Benny swears is a nice guy deep down. You've yet to dig far enough.
Eddie tries to trip you up again when you come back. You glare at him, stepping on his toes gently – more a threat than a real show of aggression – and disappear again through the kitchen door.
"So." Benny throws down a basket of fries before moving to the chopping board with a fresh tomato in hand. "He's your boyfriend?"
"Do we have to do this?" you ask, joining him at the chopping board. You try to snag a slice of tomato and are quickly tutted away.
"Is he?"
"No," you say, trying again for some tomato.
"Kid, if you don't wait."
You pout and set back on your heels.
The burgers sizzle. Benny throws a slice of cheese over Eddie's and lets it melt. Quicker than you can believe, Benny constructs two burgers and fills a red plastic basket with fries.
He offers them to you. "Lunch break."
Free food. You smile at him sheepishly and try to take them. He pulls his arms back.
"Wha-"
"If he's your boyfriend, you better tell me now."
"Benny, I don't know if you know this, but I'm an adult. Already got knocked up once."
"And where is he now?"
Chastised, you mumble, "He's not my boyfriend," and Benny finally hands over the food. He looks like he might try to ruffle your hair if you stick around, so you knock open the kitchen door with your hip and make a speedy exit.
"What's with the face?" Eddie asks as you sit, reaching for the hot plate balancing across your forearm.
"I think Benny just tried to give me a dad talk."
He laughs like this is the funniest thing he's ever heard. "Really? What did he say?"
You shake your head. That's not a bag of worms you're interested in delving into right now. Your brains too fried, and the food smells great. Your stomach aches with hunger.
"You want a coke?" you ask.
Eddie stands up. "I'll get them. Sit down, okay?"
You sit down and shove a greedy handful of fries into your mouth, turning in your seat to watch Eddie talk.
He leans over the metal ledge of the kitchen window. It's quiet enough to hear him laugh, hear him say, "No, sir," in a tone that borders sarcastic.
He wields a five dollar bill at Benny, who shoots him down.
"Put it in the Junie jar," Benny says.
"Junie jar?" Eddie questions, though he's smiling.
Your eyebrows furrow at the expression. You've never heard it either.
"I don't bother pretending she spends it on anything else."
"You got that right."
You flush with heat all the way to to the tips of your ears and turn back to the table before Eddie can catch you watching.
He throws himself into his seat like he's collapsed. The twin cokes in his hands upheave and then splash back into themselves, an impressive and ridiculous show of skill that makes you gasp.
"For you." He shoves a glass down next to you. The ice cubes clink.
"Thank you," you say, and don't waste any time digging into your food.
He squints at your eager eating, though he waits until you've taken the worlds biggest bite of your burger before he asks, "Hungry?"
You swallow before you mean to and have to take a big sip of your drink to avoid choking to death. "I didn't eat breakfast."
"How come?"
You can't take his concern. Your eyes drop this hand where it picks through fries, no rings in sight. He’d told you once he can’t wear them at work, because he gets really warm and the rings are costume jewellery. His hands look bare without them, but they’re very nice hands. You follow the stark line of a bone down from his knuckles and focus in on his simple wrist watch as you explain.
"It took me an hour to get her to finish a slice of toast this morning. I usually wouldn’t make her finish, but she's not eating well."
You don't have to say who. Eddie tips his head back to eat a handful of fries like a courtesan eating grapes, all grandness.
"Teething?"
"She has all her teeth already," you say. A laugh bubbles up, delighted at his suggestion.
"What do you think it is?"
You wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin and shrug. Eddie sees straight through your forced nonchalance.
"No, seriously. What do you think?"
"I don't know. Maybe she's gonna come down with the flu. She didn't sleep all night either, and…" You rub your tired eyes with the backs of your hands. "I don't know. I hope she's feeling better at pick up, but I doubt it."
"How are you feeling?" He says 'you' softly, almost crooning.
"Tired, Eds."
"I can see that."
The door opens and a breeze whips your ankles. You hide them further under the table and cringe when you kick Eddie straight in the foot. He only raises his eyebrow at you and kicks you back. "What's your problem?" he mumbles under his breath, smiling.
When the burgers are gone and there's only a couple of cold fries left, you and Eddie fall into conversation about tonight. He's finally playing a gig after months without one, and you're riddled with guilt.
"I wish I could come," you tell him, feeling gutted that you won't see him in action.
You wonder what he looks like on stage. Sometimes it's hard to coalesce the Eddie you know and the other Eddie, rocker Eddie. He's so sweet. The image of him on stage and sweating, rocking out, you can't summon it.
You clear your throat. "I'm sorry we can't."
Eddie shakes his head quickly, fingers playing with the chain around his left wrist. "Don't worry about it. Junebugs's gotta sleep. You gotta sleep."
You pick at your nails, shame-faced. If you were a good friend you'd go and see him perform, but you're a good mom so you can't. Maybe you could get a sitter… only you don't trust anybody to look after her. Not the way you would. And people can be evil.
Maybe I could take her to the Hideout, you think tentatively.
You couldn't. It's too loud, it's too rowdy. You're not sure they'd even let you in with a baby.
"Sorry," you say again, dropping your cheek into your palm.
Eddie doesn't smile. He turns his wrist, the back of his hand to the table and his palm open between you.
"Don't be sorry," he says. He watches your face and slowly, slowly, mischief creeps into his expression. "How about I give you a private show?"
Your breath catches in your throat.
"You and June've never heard me play. I could bring an amp. June can play drums. You'll sing."
His allocation shocks you out of your thoughts. "Why can't you sing?"
"What will you do, then? If I sing?"
You flounder.
He lifts his coke to his lips and smirks at your silence. "Exactly."
"Eddie, I can't sing."
He waves his hand at you rather than answer.
"I won't sing."
"Oh, you won't?" he asks, tone enough to make you cross your legs under the table. He rolls his eyes.
"No. Let Junie do it. She's always singing."
"And you'll-? What?"
You shrug. He imitates you, over-exaggerated enough to make you gasp a laugh.
“Is that supposed to be me?"
He ignores your question in favour of his own. "You'll do nothing. Typical."
"You're getting too big for your boots, Munson," you warn, sliding his plate on top of yours.
He stacks your empty glasses. The two of you stand and linger. He should go back to work. You should too.
"I'll come over tomorrow?" he asks finally.
"Okay." You look over him in his clean clothes and neater than usual hair and can't help smiling. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say quietly, opening your arms just slightly.
Eddie takes the hint and wraps his arms quickly around your shoulders, careful of the plates in your hand. He rubs them once, a good, grounding pressure across the breadth of your back. Your nose presses against his neck. He smells like aftershave and cigarette smoke and skin.
Before you know it he's pulling away, the end to an amicable embrace between friends. Almost disappointing, not quite what you want anymore, but a relief and a comfort all the same.
He chucks your chin. "Tell Junie I miss her."
"I will."
"Okay." He turns to walk away. "Bye, sweetheart," he shoots over his shoulder.
"Bye!" you call.
The door shudders in his wake. You stand there watching until Benny clears his throat pointedly and asks you to come and make some more coffee.
You rush through the rest of the day. You finish earlier than you should because Benny's in a gracious mood, thrusting your tip jar into your arms with a command to get some sleep. You promise you'll try your best and head out for the daycare.
Junie's asleep in a bean bag by the baby gate when you get there. You stop dead in your tracks. She has her shoes and coat on already, her backpack in her lap. You look up at the childcare worker in charge today, a nice lady called Deborah, quizzically.
"She's been like that for an hour. I'm sorry we couldn't keep her awake."
You pout at Junie. "Why she got her coat on?"
"She insisted. Screamed bloody murder. Think she was excited to see you," she says, smiling softly.
You smile in return. "Thank you, Deborah. Have a nice weekend.”
Deborah nods and disappears back into the play room. You open the baby gate with likely less dexterity than you should have as a mom and drop to your knees in front of the beanbag, careful not to make too much noise. You're wondering if you can carry her to the car without waking her up when her foot moves, then her arms. They fall to her side as her eyes open.
"Hey, baby," you say, feeling weirdly emotional. She looks so lovely and pretty, and if she's sick that's gonna pluck your heart strings (and cause a boat load of problems).
"Mommy," she mumbles, eyes bleary.
"That's me." You reach out to squeeze her little thigh. "My poor girl, what's the matter? Does your tummy hurt?" you ask carefully.
She blinks.
"Why're you sitting here all by yourself? You didn't want to play with Adrien? Or Lucy?"
When she doesn't reply you take her backpack and thread your hand through the strap, offering your open arms to her. She can barely sit up, her movements slow and sluggish.
"Here," you murmur, sliding your hands under her armpits and pulling her into your chest.
She finally smiles, hands bunched up at the collar of your shirt. You leave some room to look at her and she looks at you. You're surprised she's not whining or crying.
"Hey," you say again, amazed at her droopy smile. "You look like you've had a good day."
Her head drops forward. You think she's nodding, though that might be wishful thinking. You don't even know if toddlers can nod.
Of course they can nod, you think to yourself scathingly. I mean… can they?
And Junie isn't like most toddlers. She hasn't really done anything by the book. She meets milestones when she wants to, sometimes early, sometimes really, really late.
You pat her back, her nylon coat crinkly under your hand. "Ready to go home?"
You stand up with her clutched to your chest. Usually you'd have her say goodbye to Deborah or the other daycare workers but Junie doesn't look like she knows her own name right now. You frown at her and encourage her forehead against your chin, trying to gauge if she's a little warmer than usual.
"I missed you," you tell her honestly. You miss her every single day. "I want to know everything you did today. Do you remember what you did?"
Junie pushes against your chest with her hand as you walk out of the daycare centre and into the parking lot.
"Did you do… colouring? Or… building blocks? Did you sing?" you ask, grinning.
You cross the road, and when you look back she's staring at you, straight into your eyes.
"Hi," you say with a laugh.
Her hands rise to your face, fingers thankfully clean and warm against your wind-bitten cheeks. You slow, gazing down at her expectantly. She raises her chin as high as she can and smiles big.
"You want a kiss. I can tell," you croon smugly.
She kisses you. It's a little drooly as baby kisses always are, but it's the best thing that's happened to you all day. It's always so surprising when she initiates affection. That she loves you just as much as you love her.
You steal another kiss.
"Guess what?" you ask, reaching a hand to stroke a little baby hair back.
She says a word that isn't real. It sounds like 'mod'.
"It's payday today, which means…" You beam at her. "Ice cream!"
That grabs her attention.
-
Eddie can't believe it. "You had what without me?" he asks over the phone.
Junie herds your knees, arms around your legs and face turned to the TV. You stand slumped against the wall where your phone is plugged, curling the landline's coiled cord around your finger so Junie can't grab it.
"Ice cream," you supply helpfully.
His voice isn't easy to understand. The Hideout is a very loud place. Eddie's practically shouting down the line. "I can't believe it."
"It couldn't be helped. She needed to be tempted."
"Tempted! Has she eaten anything else?"
You look down at the girl in question and reach down to rub her back. "Oh yeah. She ate like, an entire bag of lays, one of the big ones. She still smells like honey barbecue."
"Nothing else?"
You sigh, that creeping, ringing thought edging in. You're a bad mom.
"I made her cereal, and celery sticks and sandwiches and little cut up peaches and- and she won't touch any of it," you say, like you're promising. Your tone begs to be believed.
There's a loud racket. Eddie shouts, "What did you say? I can't hear you!"
You repeat yourself. You miss the start of what he's saying, but you catch, "-not your fault! She's probably just having a moment. You remember when she kept throwing her bottle? She doesn't do that anymore."
You nod. "Yeah, maybe it's like that. She's figuring she has choices." Not the best timing for your kid to decide she's gonna get picky.
"Exactly! Or maybe she is sick. Does she look sick?"
You look back down at Junie and feel across her smooth forehead for the twentieth time today. "She doesn't feel warm."
"Good. I'm sure she-" You miss the rest.
"I can't hear you," you say with a small laugh. "I can hear the drum kit though. Are you going on soon?"
"I said, 'I'm sure she's fine.' And yeah, couple of minutes."
"Okay. Um. I'll let you go, then."
"Okay." A small gap where you think he's hung up, but then, "Can I talk to her?"
You bite back a smile. "Sure."
You kneel down. Junie looks a short fall from suspicion, though her arms quickly reach out for a hug.
"June, d'you wanna talk to Eddie?"
"Eddie?" she asks, turning to the door.
You catch her hand before she can walk away. "No, babe, on the phone."
You sit down flat with your legs crossed and encourage her to do the same. She doesn't not want to be encouraged, eyes still trained on the door.
"Baby," you say, though you're bringing the phone to your mouth as you do. "Are you still there?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Okay, I'm gonna pass her the phone and you're gonna have to talk straight away, because she doesn't know how it works. Alright?"
"Yeah, alright. Bring on the junebug."
You press the phone to Junie's ear. She looks startled and then annoyed, shoulder hiking and head moving in like she might push it away. You can see the moment she realises Eddie is on the other side, her lips part and her eyes widen in wonder.
She listens for a while, flabbergasted. You think you might be able to hear his voice. Not what he's saying, but his bubbly baby tone.
"Eddie," she says suddenly. She looks at you, says a bunch of nonsense words and babbling punctuated by Eddie Eddie Eddie.
"Are you listening to him?" you ask, excited at her recognition.
She grabs the phone out of your hand and stares at it. You try to wrangle it back and put it back to her ear. She is not happy.
Hardly news that your toddler's mood may swing, you shove the phone between your head and your shoulder and wrap her up in your arms with a placating shush. She starts to cry regardless. You think they might be crocodile tears.
"Eddie?"
"Sweetheart, I gotta go, okay? I'm sorry if I upset June–"
"You didn't, you didn't, she–"
"– I'll make it up to you, I swear."
"– misses you, I think–"
"See you tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Good luck!" you say. The line's already dead. The dial tone makes your ear prickle.
You feel upset for a second. It's a mess of feelings. You're too tired to deal with any of them.
"Eddie?" Junie asks, hands pulling at the hem of her nightie.
"Just mommy," you say with a smile. The longer she looks at you the easier it gets. "You wanna go to bed and cuddle?"
She laughs and runs away from you.
"I'll take that as a no."
-
Eddie knocks the door and doesn't get an answer.
He pauses, a bouquet behind his back and his acoustic guitar heavy around his neck, a grocery bag hanging from the crook of his elbow. It's a very heavy grocery bag. He'd figured he has a lot of apologising to do this afternoon.
It seems like there's no one home to apologise to.
"Girls? It's me."
Still no answer.
"Eddie," he adds, like a loser.
He thinks he can hear small footsteps.
"Eddie!"
He laughs to himself. "Junebug? Where's mommy?"
"Hello?" you call finally.
"Hey, can you let me in?"
He keeps the flowers hidden firmly behind his back as you open the door. He hears the deadbolt, the chain slide free and then the regular old lock unlocking, and you pull the door open and suddenly he can't breathe. You look that pretty.
"Eddie!" Junie shouts, to his pleasure.
You grin brilliantly as he steps over the threshold.
Junie's arms are quickly around his legs. She's in a sweet blue dress and frilly socks looking almost as pretty as her mom does, hair neat and tidy, face pristine.
You're nearly matching her. You've a soft white shirt on, tucked into a simple blue skirt and a cardigan to match.
You barely stop to look at him, flitting back to the kitchen where you’ve brown paper bags upended, the fridge and freezer doors both wide open. "Sorry, I'm just putting the groceries away. How did the gig go? Did you rock the house?" You giggle to yourself.
Eddie wants to scream, you’re that endearing. “It went great. Awesome. Not sure I rocked the house, but it was metal.”
"Amazing! I- I'm sorry I didn't hear you, I was in my own head," you say as you go, stepping over toys and frozen peas and Junie's Muppet Babies backpack like a natural. He notices your small white socks and feels himself slipping that little bit further into a terrifying feeling.
He doesn't have time to tell you it's okay, or that he wishes you’d been at the gig, or to watch your step. Junies's babbling for his attention and he'd rather die than not give it to her, moving the grocery bag he has hanging from his hand over her head and tossing it toward the couch, where it lands and spills.
"Okay, June, I'm gonna pick you up," he says quickly, pulling the guitar over his head. He props it up by the open doorway, Junie tugging at his jeans the whole while.
"So demanding!" he teases, scooping her up to prop on his hip and unveiling the flowers at the same time.
You aren't looking. He nudges them towards her face and shakes them gently.
Junie can't decide what's more fun, the flowers or Eddie. She wraps her arms around his neck as best as she can but stares at the flowers with a dawning comprehension.
"What are these, baby?" he asks, holding them lower so she can see them all in view. They're mostly red. There's some whites too, big round roses among other flowers he can't name.
"Red," she says quickly. "White. Yellow, blue, green."
She's not right, there aren't any yellows or blues, but he can only blame himself for drilling them into her the way he had. She's showing off that she knows them all, and she deserves some praise.
"Good job! Red, white," he shakes the bouquet enough to reveal a few small pink ones, "pink flowers. They're pretty, don't you think? Pretty as you and mommy?" He hums to himself, patting her back thoughtfully. “Maybe not that pretty."
You're not listening. If you were he's not sure he could say it, not while you're looking like you do. You're always pretty, always, but right now he feels like he did the first time he saw you. Just gone.
Junie tells him something, a more factual tone and air about her. He rubs the top of her upper arm encouragingly, asking, "Is that right?"
"Do you want food?" you call.
He sets June down on her feet and she hates it until he wraps her hands around the bouquet's neck. "Can you give these to your mom for me? Please?" Junie stares at them. "For mommy," he adds, pointing at you where you're closing the cabinet door.
Junie, the tiny smarty-pants that she is, runs to you. Eddie's a coward for it, but he doesn't think he can give them to you himself under honest pretenses, doesn't think he could admit that he'd been thinking about getting you flowers for a while now. Much easier to have her give them to you.
You make a sound like you've swallowed a gasp and stare at them.
"They're nice, right? I saw them and I thought they'd make a good apology for last night."
You don't take them. You can't contain a smile, but you don't take them.
"I'm sorry if I made any trouble for you," he says tentatively.
You drop your hand on top of Junie's head. Your tone is warm, each word reassuring. "No, you didn't. She just… you know, she has a routine, and she loves when you come around. She missed you. That's not your fault."
"Okay, good. I missed her too. Nobody can jam out like she can.”
Junie whacks you in the thigh. Eddie's starting to think he did something wrong because you still haven't taken them from her, your eyes as unreadable as the way your hands move, rigid and curling.
You shake them out and finally take the flowers.
"Thanks, baby," you say. Then, looking at him. "Thank you."
"You can get me back," he says.
Shell shock turns to eagerness. "Yeah, anything."
He picks up the spilled groceries and brandishes them at you. In one hand is this week's dessert, a huge carton of rocky road ice cream, the fancy kind with big chocolate chips and fluffy marshmallows on top. In the other, a plastic jug of your favourite drink.
"Find room for these in the fridge?"
Since accepting them, you've yet to put down the flowers, holding them protectively to your chest as you take what he’s offering and carry them into the kitchen.
June runs full pelt at his legs and he doesn't hesitate to pick her up.
"You're so happy today!" he cheers, saccharine sweet as she burrows her little face into his collar. "Have you been having a good day with mom? I love your matching outfits."
You try to hide how the compliment affects you, face buried in the freezer. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that your freezer has ample room, you don’t need to look for space. and he can see the way your hand tightens around the bouquet. He loves how shy you've become lately over his compliments, no matter how small. It's worth the possibility of making a fool of himself to see you flustered.
Junie reports back on the day. Eddie listens intently for words he might understand but finds none.
He doesn't let this bother him, leaning against the counter behind so he can hold Junie low on his stomach to watch her expressions flicker, hands encapsulating her back. She looks happy, obviously, but she also looks very intent on something.
"Yeah?" he asks, tilting his head toward her knowingly. "Was the grocery store exciting? Did you do anything else?"
"Duckies!" she says.
"Duckies? You saw ducks?" he asks curiously, looking to you for confirmation.
You're still holding your flowers to your chest.
Junie chatters. "Duck, duck, duck."
"What's she talking about?" he asks, pulling her up enough for her head to rub against his chin.
"Oh, we went to the duck pond. She was obsessed," you say.
"Right, right. Can't say I blame her.”
"Trying to explain why they weren't yellow took some dedication."
Eddie smiles at you softly. "You can put them down, you know."
Your eyes flicker between him and the flowers. "I- nobody's ever got me flowers before. I don't know what I'm s'posed to do with them. I don't… have a vase."
He hadn't realised he'd be the first guy to get you flowers. It makes him wanna wrap you up and hug you, because how is it fair that a girl like you never got flowers? Not once?
"Shit," he says instead.
He flinches hard and looks at Junie. She's too busy with her hands in his hair to notice what he's said. He apologises anyways.
You roll your eyes. Eddie's relieved to see it's with obvious fondness, a funny lopsided smile to your lips.
"If she starts dropping s-bombs, you're the one who has to deal with it," you warn.
"I will.”
He takes a step toward you and you take a step toward him.
You hum and hold the flowers up to Junie as he had before. "Aren't these just something else? Look how pretty they are! Why don't you pick one, baby?"
Eddie shifts her onto the right side and you both watch her touch them, hands adorably careful as she feels the leaves between her fingers and pokes the fuzzy yellow centre of a flower with white, round petals.
"That one?" you murmur, pulling it out from the rest with the same adorable carefulness.
Junie accepts the flower and immediately shows it to Eddie, ecstatic.
“Yellow," she proclaims.
"And white," he says, ruffling the petals with his index finger.
She smells like talc and you, that soft jasmine perfume, and her hair is fragrant where it tickles his face. He indulges and hugs her that little bit tighter. She indulges him in turn and hugs him back, the flower petals cold and silky against his neck.
"How do you…" You scratch the base of your neck. "Do you think I could squeeze all the stalks into one glass?"
It's only a bunch from the grocery store but he thinks a glass might be a little too small. "Maybe you can split it? Have one in your room, one in here."
You set about following his suggestion, snipping away the cellophane with a pair of scissors and acquiring two tall glasses. The stalks are tall. You trim them down and begin arranging them. Eddie has no clue why you're being as particular as you are but he's happy for you to do as you please, traipsing into the living room where Junie seems to have been running rampant before his arrival with intentions of cleaning up.
He closes the front door and bends at the waist to let Junie back on her feet.
She goes down easy enough. Eddie turns on the TV to keep her occupied while he whips around the room. He wants to clean (as best as he can) before you see him and tell him to stop. He puts your small handbag and Junie's backpack at the sideboard by the door. He sweeps up all of her toys and tucks them under the television as you would, then moves onto the rogue dirtied pajamas on the floor. They're Junie's favourites, the ones with tiny strawberries that she always chooses when given the option.
Your laundry basket isn't anywhere in the living room or kitchen. He attempts to sneak past you where you're still arranging flowers intently. The sight of you stops him in his tracks.
I need to get her a vase, he thinks. And another bouquet.
You turn to him, a pleased expression turning your features from pretty to chest-achingly lovely.
He holds up the pajamas and then keeps on down the hall to the bathroom, even as you chasten, "Eddie," with a fond exasperation.
You showcase your first bouquet upon his return, sheepish, awaiting judgement. You're conflicted tonight, a handful of emotions shaken and stirred.
"Tada," you sing.
"Looks sick, sweetheart. If this whole waitressing thing doesn't work out for you, you could definitely be a florist."
You huff a laugh. "Oh, for sure."
"I'm serious. It looks really nice."
He thinks maybe he can see the way you might've been before, in that moment. There's something so young – and you are young, as he is, as he keeps forgetting – about your face and how you take praise. You look like you want desperately to brush it away, and you look like you want him to give you more.
He stands close enough that you're forced to turn back to the counter where the second bouquet is taking form. "This one looks nice too."
"I thought I'd put the prettiest one out here." You lean back and your shoulder presses to his chest. "And then the reject in my room," you say, chin lifted to look him dead in the eye.
He feels heat crawling up his neck and decides to fight fire with fire, even if the fire is entirely imagined. "Do you often have rejects in your bedroom?" he questions with a smarmy smile.
You laugh. Far from the polite and prim giggling you'd used when you first met, though that was cute, too, this laugh is something else. He wishes he had a tape deck with him to record it, play it back.
"Only if they're very pretty," you say. You place the last of the flowers into the second bouquet. "And these ones are beautiful. Thank you, Eddie. You didn't have to get me flowers."
"I wanted to."
Your head falls gently against the top of his shoulder. He stands very still.
The faucet drips. The TV plays. If he listens, Eddie can hear the sound of kids outside on their bikes, shouting and jeering.
Like this, he can see the curve of your neck, the hill of your chin. He can see the pillows of your lips and the slopes of your cheek. The darling shape of your nose. He knows a kiss would fit there well, fit there perfectly, if he would only raise his hand to your shoulder. Turn you ever so slightly.
Even the flat of your forehead begs for affection. He can almost feel it from looking at you – the warmth of your skin under his lips. He can't decide whether he'd kiss you from temple to temple, or smack dab on your crown. Between your brows, at the tail of them. The corner of your eye might work.
Anything would work.
Eddie lifts his hand. Careful not to startle you, he cups the side of your waist like he had before a hundred moons ago when you'd cut his hair in this same kitchen. He spreads his fingers wide and inches over your soft abdomen, feeling for the shape of you.
You turn your cheek into his shoulder. He lets his lips touch the back of your head.
Plinking echoes from the living room sudden enough to startle you in tandem. Kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you and Eddie both turn to the living room and come away from one another. You're more confused than Eddie at the sound; a split-second and you're out of reach.
He closes his hand and follows you. Now past the obscurification of the cabinets, he can see that Junie's finally noticed his guitar and has pulled it down flat on the floor.
She plays with the strings enthusiastically. Eddie can't bring himself to care at her roughness when she looks the way she does, curious and entertained, giggling her contagious baby laugh.
"I forgot you brought that," you say, looking to him, he suspects, for a cue. A silent, Is she allowed?
Of course she is. “I told you I'd give you a private show."
"What happened to the amp?"
"My hands were full." Eddie sits on the floor to Junie's left. "Whatcha doing, trouble?"
She hits the neck.
He takes her hand in a gentle grip and encourages the side of her finger across the strings.
She laughs thick and sweet as honey. "Brmm," she imitates, lips pinching between giggles as he helps her do it again.
"You're a total rockstar," he says.
You kneel opposite. "She's gonna lose her mind when you play something."
Eddie feels very smug at what's to come.
You let Junie play for a time, and then you open your arms and she walks around to your side, sitting on your thighs. She continues to reach for the guitar, seems sulky when Eddie picks it up, and quietens when he plays an experimental note.
"Are you gonna sing? I've heard you sing before, you know? You're not bad."
You wrinkle your nose.
First, he plays the Muppet Babies theme tune for June. She gets excited and starts to hum. You have to hold her in your lap to stop her from messing him up. He wouldn't mind if she did. He's hoping, maybe one day when she's old enough to understand, he could get her behind her own guitar. He's not kidding about starting a band.
He drops his eyes to his fingers, shaking his head on instinct to try and shake away the thought.
June sings and sings and eventually, quietly, you start to sing too. You’re purposefully not trying but any flatness is easily made up for by the familiarity of your voice alone. The way you talk, so charming and careful, the sweetness of your newfound shyness and the rough hint of ever-present tiredness you carry, it all seeps into your singing. Eddie adores it.
Junie almost gets some of the words right. It's very exciting for you, Eddie can see it in the tilt of your head. You enunciate precisely and he slows the tempo to give you time.
"It really sounds like she's almost there. She definitely said 'dreams come true,’” he says as the song ends.
"You think?"
"Definitely. Do you want to sing it again?" he asks, words falling into a high-pitched sugar, eyes on Junie.
"More?" you add, a slight correction. Junie doesn't know what 'again' means yet, but she understands 'more'.
"More," she says seriously.
You go through it one more time. If he plays slow to drag out your reluctant singing, that's his business.
He unveils his next song with a dash of edgy stage presence. "For my next song, I'll be playing what can only be described as the absolute pinnacle of music."
He sounds legitimate.
Your eyebrows pinch together at his sombre attitude. "Sure."
"I'm gonna play it as true to form as I can, but… I don't have a banjo. So…"
He plays the first few seconds of Kermit The Frog's The Rainbow Connection.
When he sings, he does it after an internal pep talk consisting of a scathing, Be brave, idiot.
"Why are there so many, songs about rainbows. And what's on the other side?" he sings, trying and failing to sound like Kermit. He abandoned that pursuit immediately in favour of his regular voice. Thankfully it's a slow song. Simple. It doesn't take much to play, either. The real challenge are the lyrics, which he doesn't really know. "Rainbows are visions, but only… illusions?"
You bob your head appraisingly, hands crossed over Junies front, cheek pressed to the top of her head.
"And rainbows have nothing to hide."
You’re making it impossible to concentrate, looking as earnest, homespun, and ridiculously pretty as you do. Pretty in more than just your looks. The way that you watch him, the way you rub a pattern over Junie's ribs, it’s all so indicative of your heart.
He fucks up the rest. Bad timing, amateurish fingering over the struts, lyrics that escape him. You'd never know he could play Master of Puppets a month after it's debut from the way he performs now.
You cheer, gathering Junie's hands into yours to help her clap.
He blushes like a fool.
—
Dinner tonight – take out.
You're prouder than you should be when Eddie asks, "Can I help you cook tonight?" and you get to say, "No, you can't. I'm not cooking."
You'd never shake your head at a frozen pizza but there's an irreplaceable satisfaction that comes from getting hot food delivered. Maybe it's the convenience, maybe it's that you don't have to cook it yourself. It might even be the grease. Whatever it is, it tastes better than any freezer food ever could.
You've trapped Junie in her high chair. Diaper changed, pajamas on, bib in place. You rolled her sleeves all the way up and gave her two slices of cheese pizza cut into small pieces that have been blown on for a more than generous amount of time and tell her to go ham. She doesn't bother with her plastic fork and you don't blame her, eating your own pizza in a similar fashion.
Rather than sit opposite you or next to Junie, Eddie has opted for the chair on your left. Junie on your right, your daughter eats with an animated little grin that apples her cheeks, giving her that chubby baby-like smile.
"You see her smile?" you ask, taking a big bite of perfect crust. You have to stop yourself from sighing happily, fingers covered in crumbs.
"Yeah?" Eddie asks, pizza sauce or his face like a little kid.
You sit back in your chair so he can really see her. "She's always been a smiley baby, and when she was much smaller all her smiles were so chubby cheeked. She was chubby cheeked. Now when she smiles like that she makes me remember her when she was a baby."
"I'm not surprised she was a smiley baby if she had you… D'you miss having a baby?"
"Watch yourself," you say, and then giggle as all the blood drains from his face. "Kidding. I don't know if I miss having a baby baby. I mean, she's so little, she's practically still a baby. But I do kinda wish I could go back and hold her as a newborn."
Eddie wipes his cheek and stands up to get some paper towels. He wipes his face and hands and grabs the juice from the fridge to fill his glass (that's basically still full) and then yours (the real reason he'd stood, you reckon).
"Was she heavy?" he asks.
You worry for a moment he's humouring you. It's clear how much you love Junie, you know it is, and that shows in how much you want to talk about her. You'd never expected that part, though of course it makes sense – sometimes she smiles and you wanna call the newspapers – and you don't think Eddie's insincere. He seems like he genuinely wants to know and that's enough for you to want to round the table and throw your arms over his shoulders.
"I think…" You pick up your glass and hesitate with the rim to your lip. "I think if you'd held her back then, you wouldn't think she was heavy."
He practically smolders, bringing an arm up to tense his bicep. "Thank you."
You laugh at him. "Shut up! I just think, you've been good with her ever since you met her. When I held her for the first time it's a good thing I was laying down. I probably would've dropped her."
Eddie takes Junie's sippy cup to fill. You'd say it was a waste if he hadn't bought it himself, she's too busy eating her weight in cheese to care about something as rudimentary as juice.
"You would not have dropped her."
"I would've."
"You wouldn't have! And if you did, it would've been an accident. Next point, they don't have skulls, right? No harm, no foul."
"Who told you babies don't have skulls?"
"...I'm not at liberty to say."
You eat the rest of your crust and shake your head at his misguided education. "They have skulls, Eddie. The scalp is super soft and fragile for ages, but they definitely have skulls. You know what they don't have?"
Eddie squeezes Junie's shoulder as he walks behind her. "What?" he asks in alarm, passing you to sit down again. His knees touch the side of your thigh.
"Kneecaps."
His hand stops on the way to the pizza box, body frozen.
"What?" he asks, his alarm doubled.
"Swear down. No knee caps."
"Don't they need them? For crawling? I feel like knee caps are more important than skulls."
"If you didn't have a skull you wouldn't be able to breathe," you say, though you're guessing.
"What use is breathing if you can't move?"
You turn to him to take him in properly. You beam, because this is an outlandish conversation and you're enjoying every second of it and he looks just as happy as you feel.
"Do babies need to move? June could never move again and I'd still look after her,” you counter.
"Sweetheart, you're cheating."
"I can't exactly breathe for her-"
"What are you talking about? Of course you could. I don't know how but you'd find a way, Y/N, I know what you're like."
Your teeth click together, a funny retort squashed down by his unexpected admittance of faith. He always does this; Eddie loves to tell you the kindest things anyone has ever told you like they don't cost him a thing.
"I would," you agree, blinded by love rather than supported by any logic.
"Mommy," Junie says, like she knows she's the topic of your hypothetical devotion and she wants in. "More pizza"
"Please?" you tack on, though her small sentence had impressed you to the point of elation. You turn to her already with your hand in the pizza box.
"Pizza," she says. You love the way she says it, like the 'zuh' sound at the end is a complete surprise.
The pizza's cold enough by now to give it to her intact. She's amazed at the big slice you put on her plate, picking it up with a coordination you know is taking a lot of effort for her.
"Good job, baby," you praise, using her distraction to pull a little string of cheese off of her messy cheek.
She takes a huge bite. You watch her worried she's gonna choke, and feel Eddie's knees press deeper into your thigh as he moves forward to join in.
"Is it weird that she's impressing me right now?" he asks.
You giggle and roll your shoulders back until you can feel the brush of his hair against your shirt. "No, she's awesome."
For dessert, you insist on plating up. Or bowling up. You scoop a more generous than she should really have portion for Junie, something similar for Eddie, and a normal portion for yourself.
"On the couch?" Eddie asks.
You can see him cleaning up Junie out of the corner of your eye. You wish he wouldn't but you're grateful that he does. His attentiveness makes your hands feel heavy in that you remember you have them, and you remember what it's like to want to hold someone else's.
"Yeah," you say, though eating on the couch makes you nervous. You don't want to ruin it. You're lucky you even have one.
Eddie scoops Junie up easy and pats her back.
“You put away a lot of cheese, kid. A lot. Was that yummy or what?"
She burps. His laughter is roaring and boyish as he applauds her.
"You're patting her back, she's gonna keep burping.”
"That's what you're supposed to do for babies, isn't it?"
He stands under the harsh kitchen light with his face turned away and down toward Junie, hair a mess of flyaways, t-shirt covered in shiny toddler fingerprints over one shoulder and jeans slipping down low on his hips. Your explanation comes breathlessly. "When you give a baby a bottle they suck in too much air and it gives them trapped wind. You burp that kind of baby. Not greedy almost three year olds."
"She is not almost three."
"I think I'd know, Munson."
"She's like, two and a half at most."
"I'm rounding up for emphasis," you say, and glare at his eyebrows rising.
He pats her back some more anyways. She burps again and he laughs even more. "Juniper The Burpiest," he says to himself as he walks away, voice fading as he settles down across the way on the couch.
Junie has crashed and burned, warm thick cheese and dough putting her quickly into a close to listless state in his lap. He faces her out toward the TV and she leans heavily against his chest with his hands around her torso, propping her up. You shepherd in the desserts.
"Gimme Junie's," Eddie says.
"She's gonna fall asleep," you say, but pass it over anyhow.
Eddie places the bowl of rocky road in her lap with a hand between to stop from making her legs cold and starts to spoon ice cream into her mouth. She accepts. It's adorable to watch. His face over her shoulder, Junie's face slowly deflating, eyes bleary and blinking as her lips close lazily around the spoon. She barely flinches at the cold.
You eat your own ice cream in the seat next to them and wonder if this is forever.
Eddie wipes her chin with the side of his hand and watches her head fall. He wears a loving smile. It makes you want to cry, to know someone else loves her.
You let all your weight fall against his shoulder and eat your ice cream casually. This is the least casual thing you've ever done. Spoon in your mouth, you press your cheek to the top of his arm and glue your gaze to the TV.
You swear you can feel his eyes on you, but when you chance a look he's watching the TV, head inclined to yours ever so slightly, a hand brushing Junie's hair from her dozing face. You're weak. You give yourself over to what you want and turn your nose to his arm. He smells lIke he always does, warm in the truest definition of the word.
You close your eyes. After a few minutes, you feel Eddie take the bowl from your hands and set it next to Junie's. You want to open your eyes and say sorry but they’re heavier than you'd thought, and you can only manage a murmur of sound.
His hand sliders under your elbow and curls around your arm. His head drops on top of yours so softly you almost don't feel it.
You doze, digging your face further into his arm, feel the curve of it under your cheek and the cut off of his sleeve rising.
A frayed thread tickles your cheek and you complain without thinking, sighing your annoyance.
"What?" Eddie asks.
You raise a hand to rub at your face and eyes. "Tickled me."
"Did I? M'sorry."
"T-shirt. Did you cut them yourself?"
"You know it. Was going through a phase."
"Going through."
"Say it to my face," he says. Soft, teasing.
You lift your head and find him smiling at you.
He has a beauty mark under his eye, occluded near completely by his eyelashes. You can't believe you've never noticed it before.
"You have a freckle," you whisper.
"Where?" He nods. "Under my eye?"
"Yeah."
You sit up and stare at him. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. "I've never seen it before," you continue, still whispering. "It blends in with your eyelashes."
"I think you're the first person to see it who isn't my mom. No one ever looks at me this long,” he says quietly.
If his eyes weren't closed you'd never have had the courage to do what you do next. You raise your hand with his cheek, thumb pressed to the skin beside his nose and fingers slipped under his ear. You turn his face toward the light. Eddie lets you without complaint, his breath warm where it fans over your thumb. You push your fingers further until they've threaded into his soft hair, your thumb brushing up under his eye. You part his mess of dainty lashes with your thumbnail until the beauty mark is clear in view.
"That's so sweet," you whisper, awed.
Eddie readjusts Junie in his lap with an overabundance of caution and doesn't speak. He's lax under your touch.
"It's really pretty. You had it since you were a baby?"
"I think so."
You laugh under your breath.
"What?" he asks.
"It suits you." Something pretty hiding in plain view.
"I heard," he says hedgingly, "that freckles are a sign of how you died in a past life."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Bet it was something really gross, like a parasitic worm-"
"Ew."
"Or someone stabbed me. Or shot me. With an arrow."
"You're only twenty. Your past life would have still been in this century."
Eddie opens his eyes just to glare at you. "Don't deprive me of a badass past life. How would you have had me die?"
You push his hair from his face. "You know what I heard about them?"
"What?"
Fun to whisper with him like this. Like you’re younger than you are, trading secrets in the dim light.
"I heard they're kisses from a past life."
You raise your second hand to his cheek and cradle his face.
Eddie leans into it. “You wanna give me one for the next?” he asks, a short fall from salacious.
Your breath doesn’t catch. Your hands don’t shake. “Is that what you want?”
He falters. Bravado slips. Your heart skips a beat, worried maybe he doesn’t like you the way you’re thinking after all.
“Y/N,” he says.
You can’t hear his rejection. You won’t.
You close your eyes and kiss his cheek. Your nose slides over his skin, the heat of his blood under the surface warming your palms, and you steal a second there, two, breathing in his smell. If this is all you get, you can be okay with it. Eventually.
You pull away.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
𓆩❤︎𓆪
thank you for reading! | my masterlist | this fic is multi-chapter
if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
please forgive any mistakes and how long it took, i have been a bit unwell! hopefully it won’t be too long before part four :3
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x afab reader#mom!reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#stranger things fanfiction#fem!reader
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The general has escaped... again
✧ jing yuan x gn!reader
✧ synopsis: what's more stressful than managing the internal affairs of luofu you ask? making sure that your husband actually stays in one place when he's ordered to.
✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, humor, mentions of other characters, spoilers for 1.3 trailblaze mission, spoilers for the end of IL Dan Heng's companion quest
✧ a/n: under one patch update (1.3) this man has managed to run away from bedrest a total of 3 times, as such i'm obligated to write this - behold, the brainrot of the week. once again, jing yuan only appears at the very end, but this whole fic is just how everyone is stressing over how this overgrown cat can escape from right under their noses. not beta-ed as usual fellas.
There's a heavy silence lingering in the air around the Realm keeping commission. For once, the commission has been closed to the public for an hour to discuss internal affairs - is what the citizens of Luofu believes at least.
You don't seem affected by the tense silence, Yanqing notices. He's standing before you, glancing around the other tense officials that's seated by their own desk. The two alchemy commission members present with him seem equally as confused as to why you've summoned them here.
It's only when they hear you place your brush down that they all stand up straight, attention back on you now that you've started to move again.
"I have a favor to ask," you start off, looking at the three people in front of you.
"The general is currently still on bedrest, and the master diviner has temporarily taken his role as the acting general master while he rests, correct?" you ask, to no one in particular.
But it's the newly appointed chief alchemist, Yuluo that answers you, "That is indeed correct."
"However, knowing the general he might start to move the moment he feels some sort of movement come back to his muscles," you point out, having risen from your chair during the (mostly one-sided) conversation to stand before your desk, leaning slightly back towards it with your arms crossed.
"Which is why, I need you all to keep an eye on him," you declare in the end, "The general won't be straying far away from the Exalting Sanctum for reasons you all might know, so I would have to trouble both you and Jinwen to make the trips back and forth from the alchemy commission to assess his conditin from time to time. But Yanqing, you'll mostly have the responsibility to ensure that he doesn't try to do anything else than rest, okay?"
You were already fully aware that you gave the three people before you an impossible task.
And the three people before you was also aware of the fact, but what more could they do but bow their head slightly in confirmation with a resounding, "As you order."
Yanqing is pouting before you, picking at his food before you whilst you merely gaze at him from the other end of the table, "Not hungry? I thought this was your favorite restaurant," you say, in response Yanqing merely levels a glare at you. It doesn't reach his eyes because he has no animosity, you're pretty sure he's just irritated.
"... I tried," he membles after another few minutes of silence. The quiet confession making you chuckle, "I'm aware, I'm surprised you even managed to keep him laying down for so long."
"... I even nailed down a few swords by the covers so it would be harder for him to pull them off," he adds, stabbing a stray tomato with one chopstick to emphazise his point before shoving it in his mouth, "But then he's already dressed and waiting by the door when I went to the toilet to attend the ceremony that was held for the deceased! [Name], he was even waiting for me with a smile!"
Your smile softens upon hearing his complaints, a finger pushing a glass of water towards the boy before you as a silent suggestion for him to drink it, "I already anticipated that he would do that, so why the long face still?"
"Because he refused to go back to rest right after the ceremony ended! And what else can I do, but heed his order with so many people around?" Yanqing huffs, crossing his arms as his food is now forgotten with his irritation overturning his appetite.
"Well he's resting now isn't he? Jinwen is currently staying at the manor to make sure he doesn't step foot outside. The day of the ceremony would've also been one of the last times he could get in contact with our guests from the Astral Express too, I'm sure he wanted to give them that jade abacus himself."
Not to mention the fact he personally went to the shackling prison right after handing it- alone nonetheless.
You omit the part of information from Yanqing. The topic itself still brings a tense atmosphere between you and Jing Yuan after all.
But before you can placate the small lieutenant any further, you can feel hurried footsteps making their way towards your table. And when you turn your head around to look at the commotion, you find Jinwen panting before you, right behind her one of the Cloud Knights assigned to the manor. And even with a mask on you just know that they're not looking at you.
"[Name]..." Jinwen starts, and you hum whilst fishing up your wallet, "Yes?"
"The general..." she starts, reluctantly looking around, fiddling her thumbs in nervousness. You just hand Yanqing the money before standing up, "He's escaped again, hasn't he?" you confirm, eyebrow raising up in question.
The healer before you merely nods, "I-I'm sorry, I have no idea where he went, I went back to the kitchen to prepare the next dosage of medicine and when I checked again he had suddenly just vanished - the guards didn't even know anything either."
"Even if they knew, they can't really go against their general, can they?" you point out with a laugh, patting the distressed healer on the shoulder before looking over at the Cloud Knight behind Jinwen, "Gather some more Cloud Knights and tell them to meet up at the alchemy commission as soon as possible."
You let out a sigh, rubbing your templates as if that would soothe the headache that's about to form from listening to the Disciples before you yap away whilst getting their hands bound behind their back.
"I want to preface that with the main disaster onboard the Luofu is over, you are aware that we have more personnel at the ready to apprehend you?" you point out, directing your gaze away from the harbor of the alchemy commission where the trailblazer, Dan Heng and Jing Yuan were currently standing to face the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus before you.
Knowing your husband, he's already aware that you're here.
"... And the fact that even after you failed to eliminate Jing Yuan back in september 5 times, and yet still tried again today - and even trying to take two Vidyadhara's along with him? I understand the confidence you had back when the disaster first struck, but now?" you laugh is disbelief. You're aware that it's futile to try to discuss the matter with the Disciples, but everything was worth a shot.
They'll always give the same response after all. Once the general is gone, everything will go more smoothly, once you see the true vision you would agree with them and so on.
It was getting quite tiring.
"Either way, I've contacted the Ten-Lords commission, we will probably have to make a trip to Scalegorge Waterscape to check for any stragglers, but I'm sure the Ten-Lords will have this matter under control..." you mutter, noticing the trailblazer and Dan Heng approach you, "Trailblazer, and mister Dan Heng, have you finished the matters at hand?"
Dan Heng nods, glancing at the tied up Disciples before you, to which you only wave it off, "Yes... And thank you for taking care of the ones over here," he mumbles, giving you a curt nod.
"All in a day's work, do have a safe trip back home though," you voice, "And if you were to ever return to the Luofu for whatever reason, do send me a message. I can at least assure that you'll be somewhat safer than today. I apologize for the inconvenience that these people have caused you," you add on, gesutring towards the Disciples while ignoring the surprise in his eyes.
Dan Heng doesn't say anything, only giving you another nod as a confirmation before walking off.
"Well then, with all that done..." looking back over to the docks, you find Jing Yuan already staring up from his spot at you, giving you a small smile and a small wave of his hand.
"... Of course he's overexhausted himself."
"Do you enjoy making everyone around you worry? I think Jinwen aged a couple of decades with the stunt you pulled today," you start to nag the moment you're within earshot of Jing Yuan - your husband merely chuckling at your exasperated face as you stomp over.
"I apologize, dear. I just had an inkling that something would go awry with their journey. Finding you would've taken longer and Lady Fu Xuan is already busy as the acting general in my absence. So I figured this was the best course of action," he tries to reason, but he can never reason with you when it comes to his wellbeing - no matter how many times he's tried in the past.
So you don't answer him. You only stare at him, close enough for him to see your dissatisfication, but far enough for him to not be able reach you or hold you in his arms.
"... I do admit I'm pretty weary though, I think this is the last time I'll violate the healers' order," he admits in the end with a defeated sigh, raising his arms a bit as a silent request, "Can I request the assistance of my dear spouse in these trying times?" he jests.
However, Jing Yuan is well aware of the fact that you're still very much weak to the few times he does request help.
As with any matter with Jing Yuan that you're inevitably forced to pick up, you can only sigh as you step closer. Weaving your fingers between his own to pull him a bit closer before leaning in to give him a brief peck on the lips.
You then weave your fingers away from his own in favor to wrapping your arms around his waist in a snug embrace, Jing Yuan taking the chance to wrap his own arms around yours before he leans his entire weight on you.
The extra weight makes you let out a grunt of surprise, but Jing Yuan has already buried his face into your neck, letting out a deep exhale into your skin which makes it tingle while his shoulders slump, "... You big lion, you're rivaling Mimi's clinginess at this point," you whisper with a chuckle.
"I haven't seen my dear spouse since they had ordered me to be bedridden, I'm sure you can handle a little clinginess," Jing Yuan mumbles back, kissing the juncture of your neck.
"Yeah, yeah. As an apology for caring about your health, what about we try to get home so that you can properly rest on a bed instead of leaning your entire weight on your dear spouse?"
Jing Yuan hums in appreciation, leaning back to cup your cheek with a smile, "I think that sounds wonderful," he confirms before pressing his lips back on your own.
#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#honkai star rail imagines#hsr x reader#hsr x you#star rail x reader#star rail imagines#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you#x reader#reader insert
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