#this reads a lil dramatically but it's just to hold your attention | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Note

I don’t have a great idea or prompt but your As You Wish Older!Eddie absolutely stopped me in my tracks and I think about him daily 😩 idk if you’d prefer a totally different universe to write older!eddie but I got thinking about As You Wish Eddie and just wondering what like a different night with him and reader maybe Pre-AYW where they’re a lil cuddly but shouldn’t be or post-AYW date night where things actually go well and it’s happy for them both and Eddie’s efforts are appreciated (looking at u Brittany 😒)

I swear, I didn't intend for this to be so long. Yet here we are. This is Pre-As You Wish. Thank you so much for this request! I love writing this little gang so much.

Words: 11.8k

“But I want one,” Luke says with an overdramatic sigh. He flops back on the couch, arm dropping above his head, reminding you of a swooning Southern Belle.

“You’re being silly,” you tell him, reaching down to ruffle his brown curls. “It’s not that I just said no, you can’t have one. There are literally no cupcakes in the whole house, kiddo.”

The five-year-old acts as if your words have wounded him, curling up himself and holding his chest with both hands as if he’s been stabbed. Where did he get this stuff?

“Will die without frosting!” Luke says weakly. You can’t help but laugh at his adorable antics as you kneel down near his head. There’s no doubt that he’s the most entertaining part of your job.

“Oh no,” you say, copying his dramatics. “We’re going to lose Luke!”

Without opening his eyes, Luke gives his head a nod, letting his tongue loll out of his mouth. The front door opens and your heart soars, though there’s a brief flash of panic that it’s not the parent of the children that you want to see. When the sound of heavy boots being kicked off reaches your ears, you relax, but stay in character for your game with Luke.

“Eddie, come quickly!” Your tone is teasing, and you throw him a smile over your shoulder to let him know that you’re only fooling around. Eddie’s smirk says he’s game to play along.

“What’s wrong with my boy?” Eddie says, faking a gasp and coming to kneel next to you at Luke’s side.

“He says he’s dying from lack of cupcakes,” you say, placing your hand on your heart.

“Frosting,” Luke grits out, making both you and Eddie hide snorts of laughter.

“Right. From lack of frosting,” you amend.

“It’s such a shame,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “If only he could hold on for two more days until his brother’s birthday.”

Luke pops open a bright blue eye, peeking at his father. “Oh yeah.”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie mimics his son’s voice, wrinkling up his nose.

“What kind of cake?” Luke asks, abandoning his theatrical game and sitting up on the couch.

“I’ll tell you if you give me a hug,” Eddie offers, and Luke launches himself at his dad. Eddie laughs and presses a kiss to his temple. “Vanilla cake. Vanilla icing.”

“Strawberry’s better,” Luke says.

“Then we’ll have that on your birthday,” Eddie says, mussing up the little boy’s hair before standing. “Where’s Ryan?”

“Taking a bath,” you say, standing up after him. “We finished his homework, and he said if he takes a bath now, he can read before bed instead.”

Eddie grins and shakes his head as he unzips the navy coveralls he’s wearing. Your eyes can’t help but trail his hands, rough and calloused from manual labor, pulling down the zipper so he can shrug his top half out of the garment.

Luke gets bored now that none of the attention is on him, so he scurries to his room to find something to keep him occupied.

“That kid,” Eddie says, his tone full of adoration for his oldest son. “I have no idea where he gets it. The brains, the books. Certainly not my genes.”

“Hey, you’re smart,” you argue with a pout. Eddie lets out a chuckle and walks to the kitchen, you hot on his heels. “I’m serious!”

“Sweetheart, I barely got out of high school. Can’t tell you the last time I read a book.”

“There are different types of intelligence, Eddie. I mean, last week! All I said to you was that my car was making a growling noise and within two minutes you knew what was wrong with it. Without even having to go outside and look at it. Jesus, I don’t even know the names for half the crap under the hood. And I guess I’ll just have to lend you a book, huh?”

Eddie smiles at you. A real, open face, full of teeth smile. You take a seat at the kitchen table, unsure if your wobbling knees would be able to hold you up after seeing that grin aimed at you.

“You’re the best,” he says. A warmth tingles all over your body at his praise. “You wanna stay for dinner?”

The answer to that question depends on what time it is. When your eyes scan over to the clock hanging on the wall and see Brittany is due home in five minutes, that makes the decision for you.

“Can’t,” you say, eyes sliding back to Eddie where he’s digging through the freezer. Probably in search of something to make. But you notice that he had been watching you, seeing you look over at the clock before answering.

“Probably have a paper you need to finish,” Eddie says, giving you an out as he resumes his search.

“Uh, yeah,” you say. But you still have those precious five minutes to be alone with Eddie and you don’t want to waste them. Your mind scrambles for something to talk to him about. “Should I bring Ryan’s present over tomorrow? Or do you want me to wait until Monday?”

Eddie’s brow pinches in a frown and he closes the freezer. “Why don’t you just bring it to the party?”

“His birthday party? Oh, I didn’t realize I was invited.”

Eddie stares at you incredulously. His jaw drops open and he lets out a laugh. “Of course you are. Britt never told you that?”

“No,” you say with a shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his hair. His tongue pokes out to lick over his lips before he speaks again. “I know she told me she invited you. Because I said I’d do it, then she said she’d handle it.”

“Maybe she forgot?” You try to give her the benefit of the doubt, but Eddie knows better. He doesn’t want to get into it with you, though. Lord knows you don’t need to hear about his marriage issues.

“Well, you are invited. And don’t worry, it’s not going to just be a bunch of little kids. We’re having a barbecue out back, around the pool. Some old friends of mine, my uncle, Britt’s sister and her family, and then a handful of Ryan’s friends. You can bring someone if you want. Your sister, friend, boyfriend, whatever.” Yeah, he was fishing for information that shouldn’t affect him either way, but here he was. Is he proud of it? No. Is he going to stop? Probably not. He knows he’s too attached to you but he’s convinced it can all be a fantasy in his head and everything will be fine. At least that’s what he tells himself.

“Yeah, I’m free Saturday,” you say. “Um, not sure if I’ll bring anyone. Probably not.” Your best friend, and roommate, knew about your feelings for Eddie, so that would just make you nervous she would accidentally spill the beans and ruin everything. There’s no way you were telling your sister about how you feel because she’d just tell you that you’re being stupid; that you’re a kid with a dumb crush. And maybe that’s true, but you didn’t need to hear it from her.

Pushing yourself up from the table, you grab your bag from the counter and slip it on your shoulder.

“See you tomorrow?” you ask.

“I’ll be here,” Eddie says, half of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

You shoot him one last smile over your shoulder before heading down the hallway to say goodbye to the kids.

Fridays are the days you only have one class, which means you get to sleep in a little longer than usual. Except for today, when the phone on your bedside table jars you out of your slumber, the piercing shrill going right through you.

“Who the hell,” you grumble to yourself as you push yourself up onto your elbows. Reaching over, your fingers graze the receiver and tug it to your ear. The anger at being awoken dissipates when you hear the telltale sign of machinery and tools clanging. Even before your favorite voice in the world answers your greeting. “Hello?”

“Hey! Oh shit, did I wake you up?” Eddie asks. You debate lying, but the hoarseness in your voice would call your bluff.

“Yeah, but it’s fine. My alarm was about to go off anyway.” That was a lie, but one he couldn’t catch you in. “What’s up? Boys okay? You okay?”

Both of you notice the lack of checking in on the last member of the family, but neither of you cares either. On his end of the phone, Eddie can’t help but grin to himself, trying to hide it from the other guys in the shop. First, your early morning voice was just about the cutest thing he’s ever heard, now your worry for him and the boys has his heart kicking up its pace.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine,” Eddie says. “Just wanted to ask a favor of you, if you don’t mind.”

“Anything.” You could slap yourself for how eagerly you said it. For all you know he’s going to ask you to spend the day with Brittany, which might actually kill you. But who are you kidding? You’d do it if he asked.

“Well,” Eddie says with a sigh. “Britt kind of dropped the ball. Again.”

It’s not a shock by any means. Squeezing your lips together, you internalize the sigh you so desperately want to let out and pinch the bridge of your nose.

“She, uh, was supposed to pick up Ryan’s cake from the bakery after work today, but apparently,” Eddie pauses here to huff a humorless chuckle, “she forgot to ever order it. Do you think you can swing by the grocery store and get some vanilla cake mix and vanilla frosting? Ryan didn’t know, thank God, so he won’t be disappointed that it’ll have to be homemade. The kids will want to help with it but by the time I get home there won't be enough time to bake it, let it cool, and frost it before they have to go to bed.”

“Oh, Eddie, of course,” you say. The boys loved baking; you know that from experience. Together you’d made countless cookies and brownies. “Do you need me to grab anything else from the store?”

“No, no, that’s all. And I’ll give you the money for it when I get home, I swear.”

“Eddie,” you say with a chuckle. “It’s fine, I can buy birthday cake ingredients for one of my two favorite little dudes.”

“Nope, you’re getting that money back,” Eddie says, and you just know there’s a smile on his face as he says it. You can practically hear it.

“I see why Luke is so stubborn,” you say as you lay back on your pillow. Maybe if you close your eyes and tug your soft purple blanket up to your chin, you can pretend you’re being a normal girl having a conversation with the guy she’s head over heels for. Not a conversation about your job with your boss, who has a wife, and is over ten years older than you. Just Eddie.

Eddie scoffs on the other end of the line, bringing a dopey grin to your face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. “That kid is nothing like me.”

“Ha!” you bark out, making Eddie laugh, the sound like a shot of whiskey hitting your bloodstream. “Pretty sure Luke isn’t your son, he’s your clone.” Literally, the fact that the five-year-old has blue eyes is the only noticeable difference.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie concedes. “I guess I better get back to work before my boss charges me for half the phone bill.”

“Bosses, right? Such a pain in the ass.”

“Listen, you little smartass,” Eddie says through a laugh, a blushing smile making your own cheeks hurt. “I’ll quit my job right now and take yours.”

“Trade you,” you say, knowing he has to get back to work but not wanting to let him go. “I’ll fix the cars.”

“All right,” Eddie says. “Just tell me where the carburetor is located.” Wrinkling up your nose, you stay silent, only proving Eddie’s point. “Uh huh,” he says, voice sounding smug. “So, I’ll go replace the brakes on this Honda and you’ll go to class, hit the grocery store, and take care of two little monsters for a few hours, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m clearly the winner here.”

“You are,” Eddie agrees. “Okay sweetheart, I’ll see you later.”

The term of endearment isn’t new. He’s called you that countless times, along with a variety of other nicknames. He’s probably even said it over the phone to you before, you’re not sure. But the part that’s currently giving you the feeling of pop rocks exploding in your stomach is that anyone who can hear him on the phone at work right now probably thinks he’s talking to his wife. Or girlfriend if they don’t know he’s married. But he said it to you. Something about it makes you feel giddy.

“Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye,” Eddie drags out the word before the line goes dead.

After starting your day off by talking to Eddie, you don’t feel the need for your usual cup of coffee. You’re already wide awake. The day seems to be better than a usual Friday, an extra pep in your step that you can only think of one explanation for. Class seemed more interesting, traffic didn’t seem as bad, even finding a parking spot at the notoriously crowded grocery store was easier.

Strolling down the baking aisle to find the supplies you need, you hum along to the cheery pop tune playing over the store’s speakers. Your eyes scan over the shelves and snag on a box of vanilla cake mix. Dropping that into your basket, you search for the matching frosting. As you look at all the baking supplies in front of you, the sprinkles catch your eye. Which leads you to looking at the tubes of food gel that you can write on cakes with. Pursing your lips as you look it over, you shrug and think, what the hell? The sprinkles and food gel get added to the shopping basket. Now all you’re missing is the vanilla frosting. Which you discover was right in front of your face the whole time, making you roll your eyes at yourself as you snatch it off the shelf. Purposefully keeping the grocery bag in the backseat, and not in the trunk, your next stop is to pick up the munchkins from school.

The pickup line at the elementary school is long, but you don’t mind. It usually moves pretty quickly, and the radio station is currently playing Billy Joel. Eddie teases you all the time about your love for the singer of Piano Man, but he does at least admit that the man is talented.

Two bright faces come up to the windows of your gold car, Ryan grinning and waving, and Luke hooking his pointer fingers into his mouth and pulling them wide while sticking his tongue at you. Leaning across the center console as much as you can with your seatbelt still on, squishing up your face and sticking your tongue out in turn. Luke giggles and opens the backseat, climbing in and over the bag to sit behind you.

“What’s this?” Luke asks as Ryan climbs in behind him.

“For Ryan’s birthday,” you say, smiling at him over your shoulder. “We’re making a cake when we get home.”

They both cheer as you pull away from the curb and towards the exit off of school property.

Having baked with them before, you knew it could get crazy. Flour usually ends up all over the three of you and the floor. Eggshells seem to get in the batter no matter how much you try to avoid that. But making Ryan’s cake has them amped up to a whole new level.

“Luke, not yet!” You hold the bowl above his head so he can’t pour in the oil that’s not supposed to be added until after the eggs. Mixing a bowl that’s at eye level with you is a difficult task, you find.

“I got the pans!” Ryan holds up the two round pans that will bake the layers of his cake.

“Perfect. Can you spray them?”

“With this?” Ryan asks, holding up the non-stick spray can.

“Yes, sir,” you tell him as you set the bowl down on the counter. “Okay, Luke. Now you can add the oil.”

Once the cake is in the oven, you clean up as best you can while the boys work on their homework at the kitchen table. You’re sweeping the powdery substance off the floor when Luke asks how you spell your name. Going slowly so he can focus and write it down, you tell him.

“Why?” you ask. “What’s it for?”

“Homework,” Luke states simply.

“What’s your homework about?” you ask.

“Gotta draw and write the names of my family.”

The broom stalls in your hands at his words. Quickly, you sweep up the debris and walk to look at Luke’s paper over his shoulder. There you are. All the way to the left of the paper, right next to Eddie. It goes, you, Eddie, Luke, Ryan, and Brittany. At the bottom there’s a brown blob. You’re not sure what it is, but your mind is a little occupied with the idea that Luke considers you part of the family. The pressure of warm tears presses behind your eyes, but you refuse to let them come any further. Not sure if he’d understand your affection through words, you bend down and press a few kisses to the top of his dark brown curls.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing to the spot at the bottom of his paper.

“My dog,” Luke says with a sigh.

“Is it invisible?” you ask, making a show of looking around the kitchen.

“No,” Luke says with his boyish giggle. His little legs swing underneath the table since they’re too short to touch the ground. “The dog I want.”

“He needs a name too, you know,” you say, tapping at the blank space where the name should go.

“She!” Luke looks up at you, frown pinching his adorable features. “I want a girl dog.”

“My apologies,” you say, bowing your head to the miniature Eddie. “She needs a name, then.”

“Nala!”

“Like The Lion King?” you ask.

“Yes!”

Once you help Luke sound out the name so he can add it to his paper, you take a look and see how Ryan’s homework is coming along.

“Look at you, whizzing through these math problems,” you say, ruffling his honey brown hair. “Little genius over here.”

He gives you a bashful smile and goes back to his work. The boys finish up just as the timer tells you that the cakes are done. Carefully removing them with the ugliest blue and brown checkered oven mitts you’ve ever seen, you place both round pans on top of the stove and turn off the oven.

“Now the icing?” Luke asks.

“Not yet,” you say, slipping off the mitts. “They have to cool first. But do you wanna see what I bought to decorate them?”

Both little boys kneel on the chairs, laying the top half of their bodies on the table so they can watch you unpack the grocery bag. Luke’s eyes widen when he sees the can of frosting and you’re pretty sure there’s some drool forming in the corner of his mouth. The sprinkles make Ryan happy, his face lighting up and grabbing the jar.

“So many colors,” he says as he turns the jar around, tilting the sprinkles so he can watch them slide from side to side. The last thing you unpack is the writing gel and neither kid seems to care.

“What is it?” Luke asks.

“You use it to write on the cake,” you say, flipping the box over and showing them the picture on the back. “We can write ‘Happy Birthday, Ryan!’ on it.”

“We can write anything?” There’s a mischievous glint in Luke’s eye that has you raising an eyebrow on him.

“What is it that you want to write?” you ask.

“Butt,” Luke says, a throaty and immature laugh coming out of him.

“No,” you say. “Maybe you can convince Daddy to let you write than when it’s your birthday cake.”

“That’s so far away!” Luke says, flopping back in his chair dramatically.

“Are you coming to my party?” Ryan asks as he slides out of his seat.

“Sure am, buddy.” You pat the top of your head as he walks by you to get a drink from the fridge. “You excited?”

“Eh,” Ryan says with a shrug of his small shoulders.

“Eh? Why eh?” you ask, frowning at him.

“My cousins are gonna be there,” Ryan answers before taking a sip of water. “They’re mean.”

“Just Sasha,” Luke says to his brother. “Nat and Dmitri are nice.”

“I guess,” Ryan says.

“Are these Mom’s sister’s kids?” you ask, taking a seat at the table.

“Yeah,” Ryan says. He walks over and leans against you, so you wrap your arm around him and press a kiss to his forehead.

“But there’s gonna be lots of other people there,” you tell him. “It’s going to be so much fun!”

A small smile comes to Ryan’s face, and he nods his head. You’d personally keep this Sasha away from Ryan if you had to. He deserves to have fun at his birthday party, not worry about what some mean kid might say.

“Okay,” you say, patting Ryan’s arm. “Who wants to play Hungry Hungry Hippos while we wait for the cake to cool?”

Of course they did, so that’s what you spend the next hour doing. The first time, you let them win. But after that, they were beating you just on their own pure speed. It looked like Luke was going to crack the back of the orange hippo.

Standing up once another round has finished, you walk over to the cake to see if it’s still too warm. It’s down to room temperature so you help the boys clean up the game before setting the decorating items on the kitchen table.

There’s a stereo just on the other side of the wall of the kitchen, in the living room. Decorating calls for some music, you decide, so you open your purse and find the mixed tape that your friend made for you. Usually, mixed tapes are just that: a mixture. But this one was made up of only Billy Joel songs; your favorites all on one convenient tape. First making sure that the thin glossy material of the tape is all on the left side, showing it’s been rewound, you click the tape into place and press play. The opening notes play as you make your way back into the kitchen.

What's the matter with the clothes I'm wearing?

Can't you tell that your tie's too wide?

Maybe I should buy some old tab collars?

Welcome back to the age of jive

Luke starts to dance in the middle of the kitchen, mostly consisting of head bobs and moving his shoulders back and forth, but it’s still cute. Keeping one eye on his theatrics, you bring the cakes over to the kitchen table and set each on a plate. The pop topped from the frosting, the gel tubes out of their box, and sprinkle jar ready to rock and roll, you put two plastic knives on the table for the boys to use.

You're just scooping a large dollop on the top of each cake when the front doorknob jingles and all three of your heads turn in that direction. Eddie steps inside and tosses his keys down. He takes a step towards your direction but halts mid step as he sees the three of you looking at him.

“Hi?”

Luke slides down from his seat and runs to his dad, Eddie scooping him up effortlessly under his armpits and holding the little boy against his chest.

“Daddyyyy!” he roars.

“Luuuuuke,” Eddie answers, deepening his voice to match the one Luke tried to use. Eddie’s head turns towards the stereo and then he looks at you, eyes narrowed and a smirk on his lips. “You’re subjecting my children to Billy Joel now?”

“They deserve to hear what good music sounds like,” you answer with your own smirk. Truthfully, you love the music that Eddie listens to, it’s just fun to mess with him.

“Daddy, do you wanna help decorate?” Ryan asks, eyes wide with hope. Eddie could never say no to that face.

“Sure thing, buddy,” Eddie says as he sets Luke down. “Just let me get cleaned up and changed.”

As he heads down the hall, Luke climbs back onto his chair and starts to smooth the white icing around on the yellow cake.

“More,” Luke says.

“I don’t think so,” you say, eyeing the cake in front of him. “That’s plenty. Just move it around more.”

He lets out a huff, sounding just like his father.

“This good?” Ryan asks. His cake is completely covered on the top, now just the sides need to be done.

“Good job,” you tell him.

Eddie comes back into the kitchen, a pair of sweatpants hung low on his hips and a gray t-shirt, arm tattoos on full display for you to enjoy. There’s nothing inherently sexy about the clothes but seeing them on Eddie is making you feel hot all over. He takes a seat at the table, next to Ryan, and looks over the sprinkles and colored gel.

“You didn’t have to get all this,” Eddie says to you, but you just wave him off.

“I knew he’d like it and I was right.”

“Okay, seriously, how much do I owe you?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing,” you say with a laugh. “Keep your money and ice your son’s birthday cake.”

Eddie smirks and gives you a mocking salute before picking up a knife to help Ryan cover the sides. Once both cakes are sufficiently coated, Eddie stacks them, and you touch up any frosting that got messed up.

The song on the stereo changes to Just the Way You Are and the slow melody has Luke closing his eyes and swaying in his seat, making you chuckle. Ryan picks up the sprinkles and makes them rain down, colored speckles brightening up the plain white dessert.

Don't go trying some new fashion

Don't change the color of your hair, mmm

You always have my unspoken passion

Although I might not seem to care

Little fingers grab your hand and pull. Turning towards Luke, you see him trying to pull you over to the middle of the kitchen.

“What?” you ask as you get up and go where he leads you. Once he gets you where he wants you, he keeps a hold of your hand in his and wraps his other arm around the back of your thighs, since it’s the only part of you he can really reach. He starts to sway back and forth, and it dawns on you that he’s trying to slow dance with you. The adoring grin on your face as you look down at the little boy has your cheeks hurting for the second time today. His big blue eyes return your gaze, his own smile just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. Luke quickly tires of the slowness, letting go of you and drifting back to the table to try his own hand at the sprinkles.

“Hey!” you say, jutting your lower lip out at Luke for abandoning you on the dance floor.

Ryan’s pouting next to him, where he’s still trying to get sprinkles to stick to the side of the cake.

“You can’t just leave her there!” Ryan says to his little brother. He looks down at his sticky little hands and then back to you. His mind must deduce that he can’t dance with you like this. Plus, he’s still working. “Daddy, you dance with her.”

Eddie’s eyes widen for a second as he looks at Ryan, but the look is quickly gone, replaced by that damn smile that drives you crazy. The man rises from his seat and takes a few steps over to you and you feel like your heart might actually explode. Is he really going to dance with you? This has to be a dream.

Eddie extends his hand to you, which you don’t hesitate to take. He pulls you to him, causing you to giggle and a flush to move up your cheeks. One strong arm wraps around your waist and you think that this just might be the best moment of your life. His other hand, rough and calloused from years of manual labor, holds your smaller, softer hand. When you drape your other arm over his shoulder, hand so close yet so far from the curls at the base of his neck that you always want to play with, Eddie starts to sway back and forth with you. Feeling his body pressed against yours, arm wrapped around your body, hand holding yours, you begin to feel lightheaded. It’s because your breathing has sped up, you realize, and you have to manually take control of your lungs, telling them to inhale longer and exhale fully.

A surprised giggle leaves your lips as Eddie lets go of your waist and twirls you around by your hand. He’s smiling when you turn back around to face him, his eyes bright and shining.

I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right

The emotion of the lyrics as Eddie pulls your body back against his has you feeling like you’re underwater. Everything is in slow motion and sounds are garbled, but it’s perfect. You’re sure your skin is on fire and you’re not sure how Eddie isn’t scalding his hands on you.

Eddie looks down at you as you dance, his dark brown eyes locked on yours, never looking away. Normally, you’d shrink from anyone looking at you this intently, but it’s Eddie. It feels flattering and warm and intimate in a way that you don’t know how to describe. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. First you danced with Luke, then his dad, at Ryan’s insistence. It’s completely innocent.

As the song comes to a close, Eddie dips you, grip tightening on you as you squeal at the surprise. He chuckles and pulls you back up to your feet. When he takes his hands off you, you feel suddenly cold. Like something is missing. Eddie bends at the waist, bowing to you, so you give him a curtsy in return.

“That’s how you dance with a lady,” Eddie says, giving a playful, barely-there smack on the back of Luke’s head. “Gonna have to teach you to be a gentleman, I see.”

Luke ignores him, finishing up his sprinkle job, but you think there are more sprinkles on Luke than the cake. Ryan hands you a red tube of writing gel, and Eddie a yellow. He has the green one gripped in his small hand.

“Okay, I want you to write ‘Happy,’” Ryan tells his dad before turning to you. “And I want you to write ‘Birthday.’ I’m gonna write my name.”

Following his instructions, Eddie goes first. He takes his time, tongue poking out in concentration as the yellow gel slips out, curling into the letters weaved by Eddie’s hands in the air. When it’s your turn, you realize you have the longest word to write. As you’re halfway through, the song changes to Uptown Girl and a smile ticks onto your face.

“My favorite,” you say as you curl the H in birthday. It comes out looking pretty good if you do say so yourself. Ryan takes his time with his name as well. Glancing over to Eddie, you see he’s staring off into space, zoned out, mind far away.

Uptown girl

You know I can't afford to buy her pearls

But maybe someday when my ship comes in

She'll understand what kind of guy I've been

And then I'll win

The beginnings of a smile twitch at one corner of Eddie’s mouth and you’d give anything to know what he’s thinking about so intently.

“Done!” Ryan announces, breaking Eddie from his trance.

“It looks great, buddy,” Eddie says, patting his oldest son on the back. “Let’s put it in the fridge now.”

Ryan nods and Eddie’s careful in carrying the plate. You open the refrigerator door for him, and he slides it on the top shelf.

“There we go,” Eddie says as you close the fridge. He looks over and sees Luke covered in frosting, sprinkles, and somehow the gel, even though he didn’t touch it. “Luke, you need to go take a bath.”

The boy pouts but slides off the chair and walks down the hallway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Luke!” you call before he can get into the bathroom.

“Okay! Bye!” he calls back.

“Come on, Ry,” Eddie says. “Help me clean up.” Eddie grabs the sponge and groans, shooting you a playful glance. “Can't believe you made a mixtape of just Billy Joel.”

“I didn’t make it,” you say, grabbing the kitchen towel and swatting Eddie with it. “My friend Paul made it for me.”

“Oh?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow. Ryan takes the can of icing off the table along with the gel tubes, and Eddie runs the sponge over the green tiled table. “Paul, huh? You know, guys usually make mixtapes for girls they like.”

“Mm,” you hum, cheeks warming. “Love songs, I believe. And Paul’s majoring in music so he makes tapes for everyone.”

Eddie’s tempted to tell you that you should have Paul introduce you to new music, but he can’t bring himself to suggest you spend time with another guy. A college guy, especially, your own age and who you probably hang out with. His grip tightens on the sponge, the water and suds squishing between his fingers.

“Making a mess, Dad,” Ryan says with a giggle, poking at a bubble one of the suds produces.

“Go wash up with your brother, okay?” Eddie says. Ryan stops in front of you and holds his arms out for a hug, which you eagerly return.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I can't wait.”

Ryan grins up at you when you release him from your arms. “Me neither! Bye.”

“Bye, sweetie,” you say, giving him a wave as he heads down the hallway. Towel still in your hands, you wipe down the table with it as Eddie puts the sponge back in the sink. The next Billy Joel tune is on and you’re humming it to yourself before you start to sing along.

Who knows how much further we'll go on

Maybe I'll be sorry when you're gone

I'll take my chances

I forgot how nice romance is

I haven't been there for the longest time

There’s a smile on your face as you sing the words, the lyrics bringing Eddie to mind. Not that he isn’t always on your mind.

“Sing those lyrics to Paul?” Eddie asks.

With a frown, you turn to face him. “No. Paul and I aren’t anything. Why?”

“You had a lovesick expression on your face,” Eddie says, his voice a little harder than usual. Did you really have your emotions playing across your face like that?

“Oh, Eddie,” you say with an over dramatic sigh. “It’s just because I love Billy Joel so much.”

Eddie flicks a few water droplets at you, and you giggle when they hit your face.

“God, I’m gonna puke,” Eddie says, trying, and failing, to conceal a playful smile.

“What?” you ask, giving him wide innocent eyes. “You don’t like Billy Joel? Huh, well that’s okay, Eddie.” You walk over to your purse and start to rifle through it, Eddie’s eyes tracking your every movement. “Here, maybe this will be better.” New cassette clutched in your hand, you go over to the stereo and stop the Billy Joel tape.

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow as he waits for you to switch to whatever God awful – he can only assume – music you’re going to put on. The new tape snaps back into the stereo and you’re strolling back in the kitchen to drop the Billy Joel tape back in your bag as the opening notes on this particular tape start.

“No,” Eddie says, eyes narrowing at you when he starts to recognize the song. You pay no mind to him as you zip your purse back up, singing along with the lyrics as they start.

Life is a mystery

Everyone must stand alone

I hear you call my name

And it feels like home

“You’re honestly subjecting me to Madonna?” Eddie’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out of his skull. Ignoring his words this time, you keep singing along and twirl until you’re standing right in front of Eddie. Looking up at him with a mischievous smile, you grab his hands in yours and try to get him to dance along. He refuses, but you just keep standing there in front of him, moving your hips back and forth as you keep singing.

When you call my name, it's like a little prayer

I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there

Eddie’s breath catches in his chest. The image the lyrics evoke in his mind is not something he should be thinking about – let alone with you right in front of him.

I'm down on my knees, I wanna take you there

The line keeps repeating in his head on a loop accompanied by the image of you on your knees in front of him. Looking up from below him, your beautiful eyes wide and your lips pouted. Fuck. Why did he decide to put sweatpants on? Shit, he needs to get out of the kitchen before you can see his boner.

“Uh, those two have been in the bathroom a dangerously long time,” Eddie says. Mercifully, you stop moving your perfectly sculpted hips when he speaks, giving Eddie a moment to compose himself a bit more. “Better go make sure they’re all washed up before I start dinner.”

“Okay,” you say, taking a few steps back from him to go collect your tape from the stereo. You pop it back in your purse and slide the bag onto your shoulders.

“See you tomorrow?” Eddie asks, turning his body towards the hall to better hide himself. “Party’s at one.”

“I can come by early and help set up?”

Even when desperately trying to usher you out of the house, he’s anxious to get you to come back as soon as possible. “Sure. Twelve? Little after?”

“I’ll be here,” you tell him, giving him a smile that’s not doing any favors for the hard on in his pants.

He gives you a smile in return, along with a wave before he heads down the hall to the bathroom where the critters are probably making a mess.

As if picking out a bathing suit to wear for any other occasion wasn’t frustrating enough, now you have to pick one that Eddie would see you in. Impossible as it was, you managed to pick one. It’s a one-piece dark green suit with cut outs along the sides, exposing the sides of your ribs. It became the winning suit mostly because of how well it holds your boobs up, though. The girls are on display, but not about to fall out of your suit. A pair of denim shorts and a faded white t-shirt are your choices to throw on top of it. You scoop up Ryan’s gift and head out the door.

When you park your car in front of the Munson residence you can tell the backyard is being set up. Luke’s loud voice sounds from around the house, chattering away to who you can only assume is Eddie. The sound of patio chairs scraping against the pool deck drowns out the little boy’s voice, but you hear Eddie hum in agreement with something he said. Just that little sound from Eddie has an involuntary smile spreading on your face and you head to the side of the house where the gate to the backyard is located.

“Luke, can you move that chair over? The one by the grill.”

Eddie catches sight of you as you come around the corner of the house. His face lights up and it almost causes you to trip over your own sandals. When he goes to open his mouth to say hello, you hold your finger up to your lips, eyes darting towards Luke and back again. Eddie nods, a smirk playing over his lips. Slowly so as not to make a sound, you put Ryan’s gift down on the table closest to you and kick off your shoes. Luke’s back is still turned as you tiptoe closer to him. Striking, you reach out and snatch the small boy in your arms, hugging him to your chest. Squeals escape his tiny frame as he wriggles in your arms, and you press kisses to his cheek.

“Got you!” you call over his laughter.

Eddie’s chuckling as he watches the two of you, untangling a string at the end of a “Happy Birthday” banner.

“You scared me!” Luke says.

“That was the point,” you say as you tickle his sides. He wiggles his way out of your grip and gives you a playful push. You pretend to stumble back, as if his strength was just too much for you. The triumphant look on his face melts your heart and you just want to snatch him up again. But before you can, Eddie’s voice calls for you.

“What’s up?” you ask, strolling over to the man.

“This ladder is kind of wobbly, can you hold it for me while I hang up the sign?” he asks.

“I can do it,” you say, holding your hand out for the banner.

“You sure?” Eddie asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you say. “I trust you holding the ladder more than I do me.”

“If you insist.” He hands over the sign and you climb a few rungs up the ladder. Eddie’s hands hold the ladder on either side of your body, and he feels his cheeks flush when your ass is right at his eye level. Giving himself just a moment to enjoy the view, he decides not to be a perv and look up to where you’re securing the banner above the back door.

“How’s it look?” you ask.

Your ass? Perfect, he thinks to himself.

“Uh, looks good,” Eddie says. You climb down and are boxed in by the older man’s arms as he still holds on to the ladder. His lips quirk to the side as your eyes meet his. “Looks, um, really good.”

Eddie bites his bottom lip, only breaking his trance when the back door opens, and he instinctively wraps his arm around you to tug you out of its way. The door bangs against the ladder and Ryan winces as he steps outside. He’s about to apologize when his eyes take in you standing there. The fear in Eddie screams that Ryan’s eyes went wide because his arm is around you, so he quickly drops it. But really, Ryan is just excited to see you. He runs over and throws his arms around your middle, burying his face in your stomach.

“Hey, you! Happy birthday, Ryan.”

“Thank you!” Ryan pulls back, giving you a grin.

Eddie folds the ladder in and picks it up, your eyes immediately drawn to his muscles flexing in his Iron Maiden tee that he probably cut the sleeves off of himself.

“Luke!” Brittany shouts from inside and it seems like all four of you in the backyard tense at the sound. Her footsteps are quickly approaching the back door and Luke groans, shuffling himself closer to you and Ryan. The door hinges squeak and Ryan’s grip tightens around you.

“There you are,” Brittany says, eyes locking on her youngest son. Her eyes glance briefly over to you, then back to Luke. “Hi.”

It takes a moment before you realize she was talking to you. “Uh, hi, Brittany.”

“Luke, come inside and help me. Eddie, you need to get the towels out of the linen closet.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. He ruffles Luke’s hair and prods him along to follow his mom inside.

“Need me to do anything out here?” you ask.

“Uh…” Eddie slips his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and looks around the patio. “Not gonna light the grill til people start getting here. Chairs and tables are all set up. Oh!” He snaps his fingers and walks over to pull a box off of one of the deck chairs. “Can you put the birthday tablecloths on the tables?”

“Of course.” Bending down, you press a kiss to the top of Ryan’s head. “I put your present right over there. Wanna take it inside?”

“Yes!”

For the next forty-five minutes you help the Munson’s around the house, setting up decorations, putting the snacks into bowls, and trying to keep Luke from shaking Ryan’s gifts around to try and figure out what’s inside. You're pulling the burgers and hotdogs out of the fridge in preparation for Eddie to grill when the man in question walks into the kitchen, Iron Maiden shirt still on, but his jeans exchanged for a pair of silver swim trunks.

“Where are the boys?” he asks.

“Getting changed into their bathing suits,” you say as you knock the fridge closed with your hip.

The doorbell rings and Eddie heaves a sigh. “And so it begins.” He heads out to answer it and comes back in with an older man whom you recognize from photographs. Still, Eddie introduces the two of you.

“This old geezer is my Uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, playful smirk set on his pretty lips.

“Ah, you must be the young lady the boys are always talking about.”

Wayne offers his hand which you shake with a polite smile on your face. Eddie hopes neither of you notice the pink tinge over his cheekbones because he knows he’s guilty of talking about you more than he probably should.

“I guess that’s me,” you say.

“Grandpa!” Luke runs in and launches himself at the older man. Wayne laughs and catches the young boy, swinging him up into his arms.

“There’s my troublemaker,” Wayne says.

“Fitting nickname,” you say with a giggle and Luke sticks his tongue out at you.

“Tongue to yourself,” Eddie says, tugging on one of Luke’s curls.

Over the next hour you’re introduced to so many people that you sincerely hope no one expects you to remember them all. There’s Brittany’s sister Sandy and her three children (that you can already tell are a handful), Eddie’s friend Dustin that you’ve heard so much about, and you definitely remember Steve Harrington—because he’s so handsome.

“Hi,” you say, offering Steve your hand to shake. His wife Nancy and their four kids have already come in and gone out to the backyard, but Steve was lagging behind since he was getting the presents out of the car.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Steve says, shooting you a smile. Maybe it’s his old high school insecurities kicking in, but Eddie quickly claps Steve on the back and sends him out by the pool.

But your favorite people you think you’ve today are also old friends of Eddie’s from high school. They came into the house bickering, but somehow it was in an adoring way that let you know it was them showing affection for one another. The man was tall, taller than both Eddie and Steve, and had an infectious smile. His wife had her fiery red hair up in a high ponytail and their baby in her arms.

“This is Lucas, Max, and little baby Tiffany,” Eddie tells you. Tiffany looks up at you with wide dark eyes, a gleeful expression on her chubby little face.

“Oh, she’s precious,” you coo, smiling at the happy little girl. “How old is she?”

“Eight months,” Lucas says, looking adoringly at his daughter.

You end up sitting with the little family outside by the pool, on a deck chair next to Max while she holds the giggling baby in her lap. Ryan is happy, splashing away in the pool with his friends. It warms your heart to see the normally quiet boy laughing so loudly and having the time of his life. Eddie’s at the grill, flipping hamburgers and surrounded by Dustin, Steve, and Lucas. You’ve never seen Eddie with his friends before. He’s relaxed, spatula in his hand, and an easy smile on his face. They’re all laughing at something Dustin said and it brings joy to your face.

“Oh, shit,” Max says from next to you, drawing your attention away from Eddie.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, turning to face her.

“I left her favorite pacifier in the car,” she answers with a sigh.

“Do you want me to go get it?” you offer.

“I’m not sure where it is in there.” Max stands, holding Tiffany on her hip. “Would you mind holding her while I go check?”

“Not at all,” you say, a smile on your face as the little girl beams at you. Max hands her over and her tiny fingers go right up to your mouth, making you giggle.

“I should be back in five minutes. But Lucas is over there if you need him.”

“Oh, we’ll be fine,” you assure her, shrugging your shoulders. “It’s my job.”

Max gives you a smile before heading back into the house.

“Well, hello, Miss Tiffany,” you say, holding her on your hip. She babbles in the language of babies, and you tilt your head. “I know. I agree.”

Eddie looks up from the grill to say something to Steve, but over his friend’s shoulder he catches sight of you holding Tiffany. It feels like his heart is going to liquify and melt right out of his chest. He’s always wanted a baby girl. But he also did not want to have any more children with Brittany. But seeing you, the girl he has a completely inappropriate crush on, holding a baby girl? Smoke is going to start coming out of his ears, joining that from the grill.

“Uh, Steve, watch the grill for me? Just gotta ask what some people want to eat.” Eddie’s not even really looking at Steve as he shoves the spatula in his hand, moving past his group of friends and walking over to you. As he gets closer, he can hear you talking to Tiffany in that squeaky voice all adults seem to talk to young children in. The baby is giggling and waving her little hands around and it makes Eddie smile.

“Well, seems like you made a new friend,” Eddie says, coming to stand beside you so he can admire the girl as well.

“And she’s just the sweetest little thing,” you say, still in the baby talk voice. Tiffany starts to fuss a little in your arms, but you’re quick to readjust her position and hike her up a little higher on your hip. It seems to have done the trick because she rests her head on your chest and looks up at Eddie with her large dark eyes.

“Hey there, Tiffany,” Eddie says. She blinks at him, dark eyelashes kissing her cheek.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” you ask.

“Absolutely,” Eddie says, eyes glancing at you.

“I want one,” you say, only half joking. As if Eddie couldn’t want you any more than he already did, you had to go and say that. He can’t help it, he leans in and brushes a soft touch over Tiffany’s thin brown hair on the top of her head, Eddie’s head practically resting on your shoulder as he does it. He wants this so bad it hurts. His heart is in a vice grip and every day the handle seems to turn it even tighter.

It’s affecting you as well. You’ve always wanted kids and loved being around them. It’s why you became a babysitter to begin with. But holding this sweet little girl with Eddie standing so close to you? You can’t help it, you close your eyes and let the fantasy take hold that this is your and Eddie’s baby in your arms. The warmth of his body is radiating over to you and the baby lays gently against your breast. The boys are having fun in the pool, and this is your little family.

“Got it.” Max’s voice breaks you out of your illusion. She’s brandishing a green pacifier in the air as if it’s a trophy, the prize she’s been searching for. As soon as Tiffany catches sight of the pacifier, it gains all of her attention. She makes grabby hands for it and Max is quick to pop it into her mouth.

“Thank you so much,” Max says as she takes the baby from your arms.

“Not a problem. She was a little angel,” you tell her.

“She gets that from me.” Max smirks at Eddie, as if she’s expecting his bark of laughter even before he does it.

“Uh huh,” Eddie says. “Check that red hair again, I’m sure you’ll find some horns growing beneath it.”

“I’d flip you off if my child wasn’t in my arms,” Max says.

“Then thank you, Tiffany,” Eddie says, leaning in towards the baby. She reaches out and tugs on one of Eddie’s curls.

“See? She said that’s what you get for talking like that about her mom,” Max says.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says. “What do you want to eat?” He then asks you and pats your shoulder before walking back over to the grill.

The kids aren’t thrilled when they have to come out of the water to eat, because they know they’ll have to wait for a half hour afterwards before they can go back in. But Eddie had been prepared for that level of boredom from these rambunctious rugrats and had a few games set up for them on the back lawn. It wasn’t much, but the kids seemed to enjoy playing with the bean bag toss and the horseshoes.

Once the half hour is up, you’re ambushed by Ryan who insists you come in the pool. Trying to tell him that you don’t want to seems futile since he has the double advantage of having those adorable puppy dog eyes and the fact that it’s his birthday on his side. He cheers when you agree, and the sound draws the attention of his father who had been talking with Wayne. But his gaze has been captured elsewhere when he sees you strip your white shirt over your head, revealing the green swimsuit beneath. When you bend over to take off your denim shorts, Eddie loses all coherent thought in his head. You turn to face Ryan fully, which also has you facing Eddie head on. His eyes take in every inch of you. From the way the bathing suit lifts your already impressive breasts, how the cutouts on the side of the suit tease him with glimpses of your soft, smooth skin, to the way the material hugs your hips just right and your long legs are left bare. They look so inviting and the only thought that goes through Eddie’s mind is that he wants to mark them up. Make that soft skin turn purple and red under his adoring mouth.

You follow Ryan into the pool, taking one step at a time. The deeper you get, the colder it gets, so your muscles tense as you wade into your waist. Eddie chuckles as he sees you gritting your teeth, your shoulders pulled up to your ears, and your arms held just above the water, but not touching.

Luke swims over and throws himself at you, making you squeal as the water from his body and the splash send goosebumps down your skin.

“S’cold,” you say to Luke who only giggles in return. You wrap your arms around his small waist as he clings to you, arms coming up to encircle your neck.

“Throw me?” Luke asks.

“Yeah?” you ask, and he nods his head wildly, wet curls bouncing and shaking water everywhere.

Moving your hands to the sides of his tummy, you bend your knees to coil your energy up before tossing the five-year-old into the deep end of the pool. He makes a splash, showering some of the other kids in the pool–who you were careful to avoid when throwing him. Luke pops back up, laughing as he shakes the water from his head like a dog coming out of the bath.

“Not far enough!” he shouts as he swims back over to you.

“Well, sor-ry,” you say, wrinkling up your nose at him.

“Daddy throws me farther,” Luke says.

“Well, your daddy is stronger than I am.”

“Daaaaaaddy!”

You wince at Luke’s volume, him taking full advantage of not having to use his inside voice.

“Luuuuke,” Eddie replies, strolling over to the edge of the pool, hands on his hips.

“Can you come throw me?” Luke asks, treading water. He has to squint his blue eyes in the sunlight to see his father semi clearly.

“Didn’t I just see you flying in the air?” Eddie asks, gesturing towards the deep end of the pool.

“Apparently, I’m not strong enough to throw him as far as he wants to go,” you say, tilting your head as you look up at Eddie, attempting not to ogle him.

“This kid and his high standards,” Eddie says with a sigh. He reaches down, whips his shirt off, and all attempts not to blatantly stare become futile. The muscles rippling in his lithe frame as he tosses the shirt back onto an empty chair have you biting your lip to keep in an inappropriate noise.

Eddie steps forward, letting himself just drop into the pool with an effortless grace. It causes a large splash that smacks both you and Luke in the face but judging by the smirk on his face when he resurfaces, Eddie did it on purpose. “All right, come here you little hobbit.”

You watch Eddie grab his son and place his hands under Luke’s armpits. The excitement is clear on Luke’s face and it’s contagious, bringing an adoring smile to your lips as you watch the father and son. Eddie double checks to make sure there’s a clear path to throw Luke, then tosses him towards the deep end, the little boy grinning the whole time he’s in the air. Luke was right–his dad throws him farther. Ryan swims over, wanting a turn as well, which leads to most of the kids in the pool wanting to be thrown in the air. Eddie obliges, but you can tell that his muscles are getting tired as the children start to fly less and less farther into the deep end.

“Okay, okay,” Eddie eventually says, his breath labored from all the activity. “That’s enough for now.” He dips under the water to cool down and when he comes back up, you swear he moves in slow motion like some cheesy movie moment; the beads of water dropping down his skin, his hair shaking out around him, curls weighed down from the water. It’s enough to make you go feral.

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, eyes narrowing as he looks at you. There’s a mischievous look on his face and it makes you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Yes?” you ask.

“I think I have enough strength to throw one more person,” he says, sly smirk painting his features.

“No,” you say with a laugh, shaking your head as you try to swim away from him. But he’s too fast. Too fast and too strong as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls your body back against his. The bare back of your shoulders is pressed up against his naked chest and the goosebumps that dot your skin are certainly from that and not the cool temperature of the air now that you’ve been in the water so long. Eddie spins you around so you’re face to face with him, and the ferocity of the turn has you reaching out to place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. You’re practically nose to nose with him, so you decide to take advantage of the moment and take him in. The darkness of his beautiful eyes. The smattering of freckles that dust the bridge of his hose and up his cheekbones. How plush and pink his lips are, even if they’re slightly chapped. Your eyes follow a droplet of water as it runs over his pretty mouth, down his strong chin, then plops back into the pool.

“Ready?” he asks, voice low. Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you silently thank God you’re in a pool that will keep anyone from seeing how your thighs clench together. If he kept talking to you like that, you’d do anything he asked of you.

“Yes,” you breathe out, as if it’s the only answer you could give him. His grip around your waist tightens, fingers against your bare skin showing through the suit’s cutouts, and you can feel his muscles flexing under your hands that still rest on his shoulders. There’s a small twitch of Eddie’s lips before he’s throwing you, sending you backwards into the water. Holding your breath as you go under, your skin still tingling where his hands had been on you. Body floating back up to the surface, you let out a huff of air once you break the surface. Laughter bubbles out of you as you wipe your eyes, whipping your hair out of your face.

Ryan’s cake is next, and the expression of pure joy on his face has you feeling the pressure of tears behind your eyes. All of the little dancing flames extinguish with just one breath from the newly crowned seven-year-old. Luke is eager for a slice of the cake, not only because he was dying from lack of frosting earlier in the week, but because he was part of the labor that put this confection together.

As the party winds to an end, you’re thoroughly tired, but it’s only fair that you help clean up since you helped set up. In your mind, anyway. Eddie disagrees, practically trying to take empty plates and dirty forks out of your hands when you try to clear the tables. Most of the guests are gone when Sandy, Brittany’s sister, grabs her keys and rounds up her three kids.

“Oh,” Brittany says, coming into the kitchen where you and Eddie are. She grabs her purse off the counter and slides it onto her shoulder. You’re not sure when she changed from the small string bikini she had on before, but she’s now wearing jeans and a nice blouse. “Sandy and I are heading to the store. I’ll be back.” Then she’s out the door. No further explanation. No asking if he needed her to pick up anything. Just leaving him with the remnants of a child’s birthday party, all the burdens falling on him. Or they would have, had you not been there. You would never leave him on his own like this. Your nails dig into your palms, and you drop your hands behind your back so Eddie can’t see. He doesn’t seem all that surprised, though. His eyes stay on the door for a few moments before he sighs and brings his attention back to wrapping up the leftover burgers.

“You okay?” you ask in a small voice. Anger and empathy battle each other in your head, one for the bitch who walked out the door, one for the beautiful man standing in front of you.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, putting the burgers in the fridge. “Surprised she didn’t dip out earlier, to be honest.”

Unsure of what to say, your hands twitch by your sides for a moment before you’re striding forward and wrapping your arms around his middle, laying your head against his shoulder. Eddie hesitates for half a second before his arms come up to encircle your waist, his head resting on top of yours. Neither of you says anything, just stand there in the quiet kitchen, holding onto one another. In both of your heads there’s a little voice telling you that this hug has gone on for too long for it to be considered appropriate between boss and employee, but neither of you care. You’re only jostled apart as you hear the backdoor open on its squeaky hinges. Reluctantly, you let go of one another and don’t meet each other’s eyes as Wayne comes into the kitchen with Luke, both of them bringing in trash from the backyard. As Luke steps towards the sink with the half-filled cup of fruit punch he’s holding, he trips over his own feet and the red liquid goes flying, landing right on the front of your white shirt. The cold drink makes you gasp as it soaks through the chest and stomach. Luke’s eyes immediately widen, tears welling up in them and you forget all about the bite of the wetness.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you say, crouching down and rubbing up and down his arms. “Aw, don’t cry, sweetie. It was an accident.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke says, a few tears spilling over the brim. You wipe them away and shake your head.

“It’s okay,” you say. “I promise.” Luke nods and you help him throw away the rest of the garbage he brought in.

“Luke, why don’t you clean up the floor while I get her a shirt to change into?” Eddie asks. Luke nods his head, letting out one more sniffle before he stands on his tiptoes to get the paper towels off of the counter.

Wayne pats your shoulder, and you give him a smile. “You’re real good with them.”

“Thanks,” you say. “They’re the best.”

“I have to agree,” he says with a gruff chuckle before ushering Luke back outside so they can bring in anything that was left out there.

“Here,” Eddie says as he comes back into the kitchen. He offers you a white raglan shirt with black sleeves. You hold it up in front of you and see the emblem of a red devil’s head, fire and other accessories surrounding the face.

“What’s Hellfire?” you ask.

“Name of the D&D club in high school.”

“Oh right,” you say. “I remember you telling me about that. It’s where you met Dustin, right?”

“Yeah, he was–.” Eddie trips over his own words as you slip your soiled shirt over your head. Yes, you’re wearing your bathing suit underneath still, so you thought nothing of it. But Eddie wasn’t expecting it and all activity moves from his brain down to his crotch. How is supposed to keep composed when you just whipped your shirt off like it was nothing right in front of him, the support of your bathing suit basically forcing your breasts into his view? He feels himself twitch in his swim shorts and clears his throat before continuing. “Dustin, uh, was a freshman, yeah.” He originally had more to say, but nothing else comes out.

As hot as it was when you took your shirt off, Eddie seeing you in a Hellfire shirt, his Hellfire shirt, it makes his brain short-circuit even further. He’s saved from embarrassing himself by stuttering in front of you by Wayne coming back in, throwing out another handful of trash.

“I’m gonna go see if the boys need help,” you say, shooting both men a smile before heading out to the backyard.

As soon as they hear the door close behind you, Wayne rests a heavy hand on Eddie’s shoulder. His uncle sighs and Eddie turns his head to look at him.

“She’s a real sweetheart, that babysitter of yours,” Wayne says.

“She is,” Eddie agrees.

“Pretty, too.”

There’s the slightest arch of Wayne’s eyebrow and Eddie opens his mouth, no sound coming out. He stumbles under the knowing gaze of the man who knows him better than anyone else in the world. Eddie finally manages to nod his head. His tongue pokes out to lick over his lips before he speaks.

“Yeah, she is.”

Once the house is back in order and the boys are tucked into their beds, both you and Eddie crash on the couch. Brittany still hasn’t come back yet to the surprise of neither of you. But if Eddie was completely honest with himself, he’d rather his wife stay out and have you stay here with him.

“Today was fun,” you say, letting your head drop to the back of the couch.

“It was,” he agrees. “More than I thought it would be. But also, way more exhausting.”

“You should get some sleep,” you murmur, shifting yourself so you can head out. But Eddie has other plans, nodding and resting his head on your shoulder. There’s a spike in your heartrate as his hair tickles the side of your neck. Your stomach is full of butterflies and they’re bumping into one another as they fly around. Eddie stays that way until you hear Brittany’s car in the driveway and jostle him awake.

“Eddie,” you say softly, not wanting to scare him.

“Hmm?”

“Brittany’s home.”

If he wasn’t half asleep, he probably wouldn’t have let out the irritated groan like he did, but it’s too late now. Not like you don’t know the two of them are having issues, anyway.

“I’m gonna head out. “I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“See you on Monday. Oh.” He catches your wrist as you stand up from the couch. “Thank you for helping today. Setting up and cleaning. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you tell him with a smile. “Anything for my favorite boys.”

On Monday, Eddie’s bent under the hood of a car, trying like hell to unscrew a stubborn cap. The voice of his friend startles him and he almost bangs his head on the hood as he jumps.

“Hey,” Steve says.

“What are you doing here?” Eddie asks, wiping grease on the rag hanging over his shoulder. “It acting up again?”

“Yep,” Steve says, sliding his hands in his pocket. Eddie lets out a sigh and nods his head.

“Okay, I’ll try and work it in today.” He makes to go back under the hood, but Steve’s question has him freezing his movements.

“So, uh, question for you. Are you fucking the babysitter? Because between you and me? You should be.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #AYW #AYWs #request #older!eddie

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hwanchaesong · 1 year

Text

Then I Met You

Highschool!Wooyoung X Reader

genre & warnings: fluff, a lil bit of angst, cursing, brief mentions of injuries, cheating, divorce, family problems, highschool!au

word count: 1.5k

requested by: @trix-159

a/n: i am back for the mean time and i know this request is LOOOONG overdue so forgive me 🥲 but i do hope that this suits your taste and enjoy reading! 🫶

-------------------------------------

"You think this is a joke?!" Wooyoung screeched in the middle of the cafeteria, pointing an accusing finger towards his bestfriend, San.

"You ate a stolen piece of chicken, MY chicken." he dramatically fell on his knees, fake crying that made his other friends groan at his antics, "San, I trusted you with all my heart and this is how you repay me?"

San held his hands up in defense, "It's not my fault that you're too busy talking that you didn't notice me get your oh so, beloved chicken."

"Why you!-" Wooyoung stood up, ready to pounce at San but to his bad luck, his ankle decided to fuck with him, causing him to lose balance and fall. Right on his face.

"My goodness you idiot!" Hongjoong rushed to Wooyoung, picking him up and dragging him to the nurse's office.

"Your nose is bleeding and you got this huge bump on your forehead." Hongjoong commented, looking at the younger male with an unamused expression, to which Wooyoung only pouted in response.

Upon opening the nurse's office, your crouching figure greeted the two males.

"Y/N, thank goodness you're here. Please take care of this fool for me."

Your head whipped to the side when you heard the familiar voice of Hongjoong, the smile on your face dropping when you saw the person he's pertaining for you to take care of.

"Wooyo!" you began walking towards the said man, a scowl on your face as you began to scold him like a child, "How many times do I have to tell you to be careful!"

The pout on Wooyoung's face deepens, opting to stay quiet and not make eye contact with you. Hongjoong sighs and deliberately throws the guy at you.

"Oh my god-" you wailed as you tried to catch Wooyoung. Your hands wrapping themselves around his waist, trying to protest for the spartan ways of the older but shorter man.

"He's all yours." Hongjoong nonchalantly says, and with a wave of his hand, he immediately stepped out of the office, leaving you and Wooyoung alone.

Wooyoung is still processing the situation.

First, you called him by his nickname.

Second, you're holding him close to you.

Third, you smell so good he could just k-

"Wooyo, you're kind of heavy. Please get yourself together." your voice brought him out of his stupor, moving away from you at the speed of light and wincing from the sudden movement. The pain from the earlier accident still affecting him.

A loud sigh brought his attention back to you, seeing you pointing to one of the clinic beds and wordlessly telling him to sit so you could inspect and clean his injuries.

"How can you be so clumsy?" you asked, watching him walk towards the bed as you made your way to the cabinets, looking for the items you need to patch him up.

"It's not my fault," he scoffs, crossing his arms, "it's my ankle's fault for giving up on me in an important situation."

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, "And what might this important situation be?"

You started treating him while listening to his mini rant. Nodding your head from time to time, humoring him like a child.

"Can you believe him? and he calls himself my friend, how fucking dare he!" when he said this, his face turned to you, his eyes directly making contact with yours and time seems to have stopped for you.

The afternoon light from the sun peeked through the windows, shining on Wooyoung's handsome face and god did he have to look perfect right now?

The beam of brightness highlighting his features, making him look like an ethereal prince that you could only see in fairytales.

You didn't realize you were staring, not until he pinched your cheeks, "You weren't listening!"

You swat his hands away, "I am!" you pinched his cheeks back, making him groan in slight pain, "And to be honest, you were being dramatic."

He deadpanned, pursing his lips and preparing for another tantrum but before he could do so, your next words made his day better all of a sudden.

"You're lucky you're cute."

"Oh? What was that?" he smirked, your eyes widening when you realized what you said.

"Nah, I didn't say shit." you removed your hands from his cheeks, turning away and pretending to be busy, "Now go away, I have a lot to do and you're all done."

Even with your back facing him, the red tips of your ears were a dead giveaway.

"Don't worry," a whisper made itself into your ears, goosebumps raising on your skin when you discerned how close the proximity is between you and Wooyoung, "I think you're adorable as well."

"Wooyo!" you turned and pushed him away, to no avail as he gripped your wrist. Tight but gentle, like how he usually handles you.

The man himself is a barbarian, everyone knows that.

He goes around laughing like a maniac, almost bursting everyone's ears yet he also makes people laugh. His goofy and dazzling personality attracts too much attention.

Too much that it sometimes irked you because for pete's sake, having girls follow him around is annoying, considering the ever growing feelings you have for him.

You had always observed him from afar, admiring him for being real. For being an icon of happiness and.. well, for being a clown.

Anyways, you've seen him do things that one might overlook but in truth, those actions speak louder than words.

The way he takes care of his friends, crying when his friends cry, being clingy whenever he wants some attention. He is a loveable pain in the ass.

And that made you develop a tiny crush on him. You did not plan on confessing as you thought that your tiny infatuation will soon fade away like it always does.

But noo, Wooyoung just had to barge in one day and decided to wreck havoc in your already messy life.

He was complaining that one faithful day, telling you that he's having a headache because his friend (Yeosang) bonked him on the head. And as a functioning human being, you responded logically.

He wasn't accepting it though.

"Wooyoung, this is basic science. That can't happen. Now please do go and stop disturbing me."

"What? No! Then at least kiss my boo boo away!"

Was he flirting with you that day? Maybe. What matters now is the current dilemma you're in.

"Wooyo," you sternly said, "let me go."

He glared at you, "No." he replied back with much stubbornness.

You were about to tell him off again, but you winced at his next words, "Why do you always push me away?"

"I don't."

"Yes you do! And it's so darn frustrating because I really l-" he deliberately cut off his sentence. Pausing before he makes a mistake that he'll surely regret later.

He had already admitted it to his self. Just not to you.

He loves you.

The moment he laid his eyes on you, he knows that he'll want to spend the rest of his life you.

But he also does know that you have a lot on your plate.

The amount of times he heard you crying in empty classrooms or inside the girl's restroom (no he is by no means a pervert, he just knows that you're in there because of.. his keen eyes that can always spot you) is alarming.

And like the investigator he is, he learned that you were having some family problems.

A cheating father, parents going through divorce, custody fights and many more. Frankly, he doesn't want to be a burden to you, in fact, he wants to be your safe place.

He had longed for you to come to him, lean on him and he swears to all deities out there that he will protect you.

But for some reason, the timing wasn't always right.

"You what?" you whispered, wanting an answer but is scared to hear it because surely, you wouldn't be able to react properly.

Wooyoung opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. This time, he lets go of you and you immediately missed his warmth.

"I really love being with you."

You were left breathless, maybe.. just maybe, when everything is peaceful in your life then the pieces might fall into its rightful places one by one.

"Yeah," you smiled, flicking his forehead, "I like being with you too even if you're too troublesome."

Wooyoung rolled his eyes as he began to walk away, "I know right, that is why even if you act all tough I know that you can't resist me."

Ah, really the nerve of this guy.

His words and presence turning your ordinary day into extraordinary.

Just as he was about to walk out of the door, he turned to you once more, giving you a soft look, "Don't worry, I'll still be here no matter what."

He didn't give you the chance to respond, running away from the office and leaving you dumbfounded with a pounding heart.

Your hands made their way onto your chest, trying to calm your erratic heart rate.

"Thank you, Wooyo. I'll come to you soon as well."

Right person, right time. You two will make it happen even against all odds because the first time that you two met, a home was built right then and there.

--------------------------------------------------

taglist:

@ateezbabysitters @minkiflwr @kpopcrossworlds @hyuckilstan

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himbofan · 1 year

Text

haikyuu!! boys finding out you're a big 'ol nerd

hello i once again return with some headcanons no one asked for B)

what if some nerdy boys found out that you were also a nerd?? I feel like when I tell people I like manga or video games it somehow changes their perspective of me so I tried writing it :)

cw: fluff, mention of bugs, gn reader

characters: kenma, tendou, tsukishima

wc: 700+

kozume kenma

when he hears you’re a gamer, he lights up so fast; like a cat when you open a can of food

if you’re talking to someone else, he’ll pretend he didn’t overhear, but really he’s hanging on to every word you say

if you’re talking to him, he’ll begin asking you your favorite games with a sparkle in his eye

if you ask to swap friend codes he’ll gladly oblige

once you accept his friend request he’s immediately scanning through your library to see what you’ve played

if he sees that you play a lot of games that he plays as well, he’ll get butterflies 💕

in the future he’ll definitely be more open and trusting towards you, since you’re a fellow nerd

will send you video game news and announcements through text, asking if you’re going to get the new game or whatever

he definitely loves it when you send memes or geek out about a game, no matter how much you may spam him he’s reading all of it!!

if you ask him to put his minecraft bed next to yours (even as a joke) he might malfunction for a bit

congrats you now have a high level friend that can carry you on all the hard bosses

he’s also the type to give you a bunch of high level items and money when you play an online game together (because he's absolutely enamored 😳)

kuroo points it out and is totally dramatic about it

“damn, you’ve never given me that much stuff when I play. I almost feel hurt, do you like them more than me now?”

“no comment.”

tendou satori

if you tell him you read shounen jump he’ll probably fall in love on the spot

ok maybe not that fast, but he’s definitely excited to finally have someone to talk to about weekly chapters

he’ll ask to swap numbers too so you can send each other memes and theories about the mangas being serialized

sends a “good morning!” and “goodnight!” everyday to you with a meme or cool fanart related to the manga you’ve been discussing

he absolutely loves it when you ramble about characters, storytelling techniques, how the good the anime adaption is, and other extremely niche nerdy details

if you cry when your favorite character dies, he’ll think it’s so cute and endearing

he’ll tease you at first, but will comfort you nonetheless without being condescending or judging you

he will subtly try to act like characters that you simp for

tendou worries that your reputation might take a hit if you’re seen hanging out with him all the time, so he asks you if it’s okay

“of course it’s fine, talking to you makes my day more fun! plus, who else would I cry to about fictional characters?”

he’s frozen for a moment before bursting out into laughter with heated cheeks

if he hadn’t fallen for you already, he definitely knew this was the final nail in the coffin 💘

tsukishima kei

ok i’m imagining a gecko or bug that accidentally got into the classroom and no one wants to touch it because they think it’s gross

tsukishima would, but he doesn’t want to attract any unnecessary attention so he just sits back and watches his classmates scramble about

until you show up and gracefully scoop up the lil guy with tenderness and adoration, carefully heading towards the door to release it outside

he probably already thought you were cute, but now he has a reason to talk to you that doesn’t seem forced

he stops you before you get out the door, asking to see the creature in your hands

you ask if he wants to hold it, he’s a little surprised but will say yes

when your hand brushes his, adrenaline explodes in his body but he makes no outward indication about how nervous he really is

you excitedly ask if he likes creatures too, which leads to a wonderful conversation about how bugs and stuff are actually really cool

until you both remember that he still has a bug in his hands that needs to be outside

you continue chatting while heading towards the door and it might seem like he’s not listening; responding with one word answers and nods, but he’s just trying to keep his cool

if you exchange numbers, he’ll send you pictures of bugs or reptiles he finds outside that he thinks you might like

if you have any pets that require tanks (fish, bugs, reptiles, amphibians etc) he’ll subtly ask to come over so he can check them out

“hey, we should study at your place sometime.”

“you know you can just ask me if you wanna see my pets lol”

"...hmpf"

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!! headcanons #my work #haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #tendou x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu hcs #sfw #haikyuu #kenma fluff #tendou fluff #tsukishima fluff #kozume kenma #tendou satori #tsukishima kei #gn reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! hcs

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willowser · 1 year

Note

Dearest will, I would love to read your take on bkg’s confession to us 🥹 delicious pining, the time and nerves it takes for him to work up the courage to actually say that he has feelings for us !!! Or maybe he can’t even find the words and he just demands a date or something 😭 I live for that man’s emotional turmoil I want to eat him

his emotional turmoil is so important to me 😌✨️💕 LMAOOO lemme think !! gosh, i — can imagine this going so many different ways and. none of them are anything less than dramatic because he is SO akfjdjejal it's like pulling teeth, i swear smh

i feel like. he's only willing to say something if he kinda thinks you might be into him, too. if there's been no indication that you see him as anything other than a friend, he's taking that shit to the grave. god, i imagine that rejection must be so difficult for this man; after always being second-best to deku and everything with all might and now edgeshot, he is probably just teeming with feelings of never being good enough and he's probably horrified that this will happen again, with you, and he is just. a wreck 😭

(you have no idea what you just unleashed, this got SO long, i am SO sorry 😩🥲)

the first thing that comes to mind is that he's angry about it LOL and i hate to make it seem like i'm dulling him down to that, but i think he's most comfortable being aggressive, because that's the way he was for so long, and it's just how he's used to processing his emotions outwardly, if that makes sense. so he probably has some idea that there is a lil' something going on between you two and he's probably like. do i really have to say this why haven't you figured it out already you think i look at just anyone like this. i think he will say everything he possibly can—except the actual words LOL the emotional charades with this guy is like. unreal.

(he only ever goes out for drinks with everyone because of you. because you always make a point to sit by him and you laugh and put a hand on his arm and sometimes you'll look at him while everyone is talking and he'll look at you and he thinks i've gotta figure this shit out because he can't stand it anymore.

and then when it's time to leave, he's leading to his car so that he can drive you home, like he always does, but for some reason, this time, you're being a brat about it.

"no, bakugou, seriously," you laugh at the frown on his face—but you're not stepping any closer to his car so it deepens. "i'm going to start owing you gas money at this point, you take me home every time."

it probably shouldn't offend him as much as it does, but like hell he's gonna take money from you, especially when having you in his passenger seat means twenty extra minutes of time. will give him the chance to remember the order of words in the script he's practiced over and over.

but now you're saying no.

bakugou huffs, averting his eyes to a crack in the sidewalk so this image doesn't sear into the front of his brain. "'f you don't wanna, that's all you gotta fuckin' say."

"no," the pitch in your voice has his attention back to you, the playful pout on your lips. "that's not it, of course i want to." and his eyes must go a little wide because you grin, up to no good. "i love riding with you."

and—okay. he's been thinking about this a lot, every time he knows he'll be spending any amount of time with you; how is he going to direct the conversation, so that he can spit it out already? and, what do you know, he doesn't even have to, because you've brought yourself right here, directly at the precipice, exactly where he needs to be to tell you—

"well," he shrugs, grumbling, "why do y'think i offer?"

there's this little glimmer in your eyes at that, and your soft expression curves into something you have trouble keeping a hold on, but you clasp your hands together behind your back and take slow steps closer, too close, until you're close enough to probably feel the heat coming off in waves from his fucking face.

"i don't know," you shrug, too, batting your eyelashes like you haven't got a clue in the world what he's getting at. what he's been getting at for months. "why do you offer?"

"it ain't 'cause i want your damn money!"

"no," you put a finger on your chin, exaggerating. "i'm almost sure that was it."

and he seethes at that, you little shit, and juts his chin out and balls his hands into fists because he can't believe you're gonna make him spell this out. "i ain't gonna say this twice."

a shock of laughter spills from you, lighting up your face in a way that has his stomach twisting. "you haven't even said it once!" you close whatever distance there might have been, tugging at the lapels of his coat, dropping your voice low and meant just for him. "c'mon bakugou, you can tell me. secrets don't make friends."

"were not friends," he finally—finally—grits, ears hot, probably steaming in the cold weather. there's a stretch of silence as you smile up at him, all victorious, and it runs so long that he starts to worry he's being too much of an ass, or has put his foot in his mouth. "'least, i didn't—to me—"

"no, bakugou," you agree, soothing his worries as you lean up to press the ice-cold tip of your nose to his. "we're not just friends.")

but also !! 🥺 the thought of him actually deciding to tell you is like !!! okay. i, like many of us, absolutely love the idea of him being a secret, big fat shoujo fan. i think that he reads these romance stories and gets all butterflies in his stomach and really enjoys them, honestly, because he is interested in how open some people can be with one another. it intrigues him, has him wanting that, too.

so i picture him as a huge romantic that is just so terrible about execution LOL he'll have a whole plan for what he's gonna say and what he's gonna wear and where it's gonna be and the flowers he's gonna have and xyz BUT he's such a perfectionist that if even one thing is off, he's out. bailing. saving it for another day because this one is ruined PFFTT. and he probably makes excuses for himself, too, like maybe the mood is right and he has his chance but he just gets too choked up, just thinking about what he wants to say. his nerves eat away at him too much and so he calls the day a bust and moves on.

but then the time comes when he just cannot take it anymore. he's someone that has a lot of self-control, and when it comes to romance and like being nervous, i think he's probably able to hold out for a very long time LOL until he's just at his freaking wit's end with himself for dragging his feet when you are what he wants so bad. and so he just has to get over himself.

(it's just the two of you after hours in the support lab, making small adjustments to his gauntlets. and it starts out just fine, because he's enjoying his alone time with you and how stupid-cute you look when focusing so hard and there's not much conversation being shared, because you're working, and bakugou is okay with that because he's not good with his words, anyway.

and then you do something so simple; wiping a hand against your nose, unknowingly staining it with grease, before holding your open palm out to him.

"can you pass me that socket wrench, please?"

there's really no telling what exactly it is in that moment. maybe that you look so invested in what you're doing, enjoying your passions. maybe it's how comfortable the whole setting feels, the kind of thing he can imagine doing with you for the rest of—forever. or maybe it's just the sleepy way you blink at him, a little worn out from the day, before sending him a smile that has his chest hurting.

so instead of handing you anything, he just says: "you drive me fuckin' crazy."

a spark of life flashes in your eyes, fatigue fading away with your surprise. "uh, what?" and—he could have said that better because now you're nervous and you give him an awkward little laugh. "what did i do? were you using it?"

"no, dumbass, you just—" bakugou sighs, dropping the tools from his own hands to run one over his face. none of this was part of his carefully concocted plan, but he's just suddenly overwhelmed, by you, and if he doesn't get it off his chest, right now, he's going to implode. "i'm gonna walk out of here and go home and—" he pauses to gnaw on his lip, trying in vain to think of any of the words he'd ever planned out for this. "you're gonna be the only damn thing on my mind."

"oh," you breathe, quiet, though he's sure you're able to hear how hard his heart is pounding. hard enough to cause him a little unease. "me? what about me?"

"fuckin'—everything." he frowns, and he's typically not one to back down from a little eye-contact, but you lean forward at other end of the workbench, attention all his, and—he's suddenly very interested in the control panel on the table in front of him. "your—everything."

"well i have to be honest," you look down at your hands and your little jumpsuit, brushing stray hairs from out of your face. "this is hardly the version of myself i want you thinkin' about."

and there's something about hearing you say it that makes him fucking embarrassed all over, so he just curls a little further into himself, eyes glued to his work. "don't matter," he grunts, flushed down to his neck. "look just fine t'me."

you laugh at that, and when he looks up at you, you're gnawing on your own lip and your eyes are jumping all over the lab, like you can't stand the eye-contact either, like you're feeling just as fevered as him.

like maybe he doesn't leave your mind, either.)

and there is a small part of me that thinks he has to make his feelings known in a physical way—as in, still with his mouth but not with his words LOL because even though i think he can be a little wary of intimacy, especially with someone he's not actively dating, he's such a physical person that he just has to do something with his hands at some point.

(he finds you in the back corner, at the copy machine. only reason he came back here was to shove some old reports into the shredder, be done with them so he could finally go home for the day, but—now you're standing up from how you'd been leaning over the machine and looking at him with big eyes and a smile and, well, he's not in all that much of a rush, anyway.

bakugou is shit at making small talk, but you're much better at it, thankfully. can talk forever just like goddamn deku, though he's much more inclined to listen to whatever you'll prattle on about, even if it's just the weather or whatever else you need to do for mina today or—

"—and so now i have to make all these flyers." you shrug and stick your tongue out, like it's a bother even though he knows it isn't. "not anything fun i'm copying, unfortunately. not like—" a little beep sounds as your pages finish printing and you grab them and set them straight, laughing a little as you glance up at him. "not like—do you remember when all might fought that villain xerox? and there were all these photocopies of his face squished against the glass?" for emphasis, you press your hands to your cheeks, pushing them together until your lips pucker—and then you laugh some more, like you're just so goddamn funny. "i don't know if you ever read that one, i think that issue came out when he was in the states or—"

and—he really doesn't consider himself this kinda guy, some casanova or what-have-you, but in one step, he's grabbing one of your wrists to hold you still and slipping the other around your neck and just crashing his mouth onto yours.

and he really does not consider himself this kinda guy, because it's clumsy and probably a little too firm and it's quite literally just lips on lips, because he's not that smooth. there's a very brief, clouded moment of euphoria at the fact that he's finally done it, with his heart fluttering in his chest, and then he's suddenly all to aware that he's probably going to catch a sexual harassment charge from this.

but when he yanks back from you, you're looking at him with the same surprise on your face, though you're still comfortable with his hands on you.

in fact, you even very slowly tug your wrist from his, tracing your fingers over his skin before you run them up his arm, up to dig into the hair at the back of his neck.

you don't kiss him again—not yet—but you laugh some more and nod. "so i take it you have read that one, then?"

"uh, yeah," he clears his throat, wondering if you can feel how hot he's become. "i have."

"it's a pretty good issue, i think."

"yeah," he murmurs, giving in to the tug of your hand, until he's leaning back down into your space. "'s'not too bad.")

#i could really just talk about him forever andbsjana #what do i think bkg would do in situation xyz ??? well HOW MUCH TIME DO YOU HAVE #i am a firm believer that bkg is sexually attracted to nerds and he is MORTIFIED by it #this really went out of control i am so sorry lmao #but thank you for asking !! 🥺 lil' ol' me 🥺#this was so fun ngl !!#✿ willow writes #✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: bakugou

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ilylovelyz · 11 months

Text

bags.

pair : jean x genneu!reader

warning(s) : none!, maybe a lil drama, just fluff

jean watches attentively as you gasp out of excitement when you pick up yet another book from the shelf, mumbling yet another "i've heard about this book!" he watches as your lips curl up into a sweet excited grin, wondering whether you should add it to the pile of books that you are currently carrying.

jean wonders the total cost of the current amount of books that you have in your hands (including the ones he also is carrying.) he took you out here for a simple date, knowing your love for books. he notices another couple a few feet away from you. the girl seems to be in the same boat as you, extremely happy and content with the stock of heavy books she is carrying. she's carrying more than you, maybe 3-4 more.

he wonders how her tiny arms haven't given out yet. most importantly, he wonders why her little boyfriend isn't helping her. her boyfriend looks extremely bored, just dragging his feet to wherever she goes next. jean scoffs audibly, drawing your attention.

"what? are you bored?" you ask, your head tilting to the side out of curiosity and concern. god, he loves it when you do that. he shakes his head violently, resisting the urge to chuckle when he hears you knowingly giggle at his dramatics. "never!" he almost shouts proudly.

"how could i ever be bored when im hanging out with my babe? only shitty, ungrateful losers are bored like that." he says, making eye contact with the male accompanying that girl, who was also looking over at the two of you as well. it was an attack, you facepalm.

you facepalm even harder when he just grabs random books off the shelf, "more! you need more." he boasts. after he's finished taking like 6 random books off the shelf, he leans down to combine the stack of books from your hands and leans back straight so that way he's carrying all of them.

you can almost hear the twinkling flamboyant stars around his face as he wears a twisted teasing grin. "gotta show 'em how it's done." you smile a toothy grin at his declaration. jean loves proving his love and loyalty to you, even if it comes at the expense of others.

for now, he follows you like a puppy, holding an absurd amount of books, ignoring the weird stares passerby's give when he points out even more books he knows you'll love.

he ignores the way he almost eats shit because the books he's carrying are preventing him from seeing his own two feet. he doesn't care, though. he'd fall for you any-day.

by the time you two end up at the cashier, the books take up majority of the counter. he doesn't take notice of the cashier's weird looks. he's too busy admiring your features. he's proud of himself. proud that he managed to make you happy.

he trails after you, arms carrying the multiple bags of books that he bought for you with his hard earned, slayed money. he ignores the fact that his arms have literally lost feeling because he's been carrying everything for you. he'd carry you a thousand books across the earth if it would make you happy.

his arms give out once the two of you reach your shared bedroom at headquarters, though he makes sure to not damage your books when he plops them down on his desk, covering the unfinished, soon due reports. they can wait later, he's with you after all.

he listens intently when you're sprawled over his lap, his hand caressing the small of your back as you read him one of the new books he bought you. he loves when you read so passionately. he thinks its cute when your legs swing back and forth because you're so happy.

happy because of him.

#aot x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #attack on titan x reader #aot #jean kirstein x reader #jean x reader #jean kirstein smut #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschstein x reader #jean kirschtein fluff #attack on titan fluff

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saphirered · 1 year

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hi, a request about a winter ball with Rhysand x f!reader, where she has a amazin dress with de details os stars and Rhys admiring her from far as she talks to people, and they dance in the ball, have some kisses as well and finish in their room with some spicy moment, thanks

Love this concept! Spicy went a lil' smutty in the end but if you're not comfortable with that, you can skip the bit below the dotted line. Happy reading! 😘

Ever the lover of grand displays of lavish dramatics Rhysand feels perfectly at home among the dancers and chattering courtiers. He may love a lack of decorum equally but it’s no secret he’ll take expensive silks and marble floors opposed to being knee deep in the mud and freezing. A winter’s ball is the perfect place for a break from the chaos of his brothers, or so he’d claim because at the end of the night he’ll likely be negotiating peace for the conflict Cassian undoubtedly will have caused, and be given a full report of all ongoings from Azriel, if he manages to shake the Shadowsinger in the first place. One day he’ll learn to tell them to stay home. At least Morrigan and Amren know how to behave, Mor taking a particular interest in some of the guests and they in her, and Amren getting a little closer for comfort to the prince of Adriata but for his sake, Rhys will ignore what he saw and picked up on. Instead when he turns his attention away from his family, he feels chills running down his spine, suddenly eerily aware of the cold season, as if he were standing among the Illyrian mountains this very moment. When he sees an ice queen personified not in heart but certainly in appearance he is certainly caught off guard.

You wear a gown more of crystals and beads than fabric, sheer where these precious and precise designs do not weave together. It must be worth its weight in gold for it certainly looks heavy even if you do not show it in your posture. Never once do you wane. You remain ever impeccable and move with a grace and relentlessness that suits the element you’ve chosen to represent. You put the entirety of the winter court to shame with your beauty. You hold your head high, the crown of crystals like icicles on the verge of melting woven into your hair befitting of your entire visage. Anyone assuming you to be a queen would be entirely in their right. You’d taken the seasonal theme quite serious and Rhysand suddenly feels a little underdressed in comparison. Of course he donned his usual black but opted for some silver work, beading and the appearance of a frosted texture to his jacket. He should have opted for that platinum crown, the one with the brightest diamonds because suddenly if he imagines standing even remotely within your radius, he’d feel like a shadow as opposed to your radiance. Never had he felt discontent with being a shadow others thought twice to approach.

Of course the courtiers swarm to you, vying for your attention. You smile through, you make pleasant conversation with them and you clearly know what you’re doing and he won’t deny the smile it’s brought to his face when he may or may not have picked up on some parts of conversation where some rather desperate flirtations are ever so skilfully dismissed. While you are certainly the centre of attention, Rhysand is stuck conversing with those of his own court, and putting up the usual facade of the cocky and cruel high lord. He has a reputation to keep and never has he felt the desire to just be himself more. He’d resigned himself to admiring the ice queen of the ball from a distance but then he realised, he’s the High Lord of the Night Court. People get out of his way. All it takes is invoking that dreadful presence to scare away these desperate idiots, if only just to speak to you before he returns to his usual life, his usual thoughts. He just wants to know, has to know and so he strides over.

The male draped in dark fineries, his eyes have wandered to you several times now, or at least that’s how often you’ve caught him staring. You’d expected him to approach you at some point, like so many others have. You’d have humoured him, out of curiosity. Would he come offer you the moon on a string? Or would he resort to simple flattery? But then you noticed, those violet eyes. You know this male. You’ve let him before, long ago. You doubt he remembers you, but that look makes you suspicious, maybe he does. From what you hear, he’s not just any simple male, he’s the High Lord of the Night Court. Leave it to you to have… history with one of the most powerful beings in all of Prythian. He’s grown more handsome but what softness he held, or what you remember, has been replaced by a shield of darkness. Still he carries that cocky smirk that promises no good. You wonder, will he approach? Does he remember you? Will he save you from all these fools trying to charm you into their good graces at best, their beds at worst? He always did have a bit of a hero complex but the more stories of him you hear, the more you begin doubt he is the knight in shiny armour, and the more you see he might have turned the evil overlord, just like his father. You hope it’s but gossip, but lies.

Then he begins to approach, people know better than to stand in his way, some might make a show of attempted bravery, by allowing the darkness to overcast just a second before they rush aside, choosing life over the ire of the terrifying high lord of night. He smirks, puts on a display of arrogant confidence, and that’s when you see it; he puts on a display. The attention keeping you busy this night, scatters and leaves only the genuine conversationalists, until you excuse yourself, turn your attention to him. You decide to play the part you were dressed for, become a face of neutrality covered by a shield of freezing cold indifference. you clasp your hands together and tilt your head to the side just ever so lightly, awaiting an introduction, or anything really because you don’t know what to expect. He bows his head in greeting, never once does that cocky smirk drop, and never once do his eyes leave yours. They stare right through your soul. He does not speak but offers you his hand. And then you feel a brush against your mind, gently and never intrusively, akin to a knock on a door. You decide to open it.

“It has been far too long.” Those are the first words he chose to speak, or rather think to you? Perhaps not his smoothes moment but at least you humour him with mental laughter, and the faint up turning off the corner of your lips. He can’t believe it took him this long to figure it out, to realise who you are, or rather who you are to him. It must have been centuries at this point and you’ve changed much, but so has he. He’d found himself wondering sometimes over the years, wondering what became of you, where you might be. He expected you to live the quiet life you’d talked about, a life of freedom. Perhaps you have gotten it. You certainly know how to make an entrance and certainly gained attention of plenty of important and powerful people, but that hardly ever is a quiet life.

“So it has been. It’s good to see you, Rhys.” Despite your appearance, you radiate a warm embrace on a cold night, one he’s longed for far too often be that in the Illyrian camps or in simple loneliness when it came to haunt him.

You take a step forward, towards his outstretched hand, still offered. Without much of a doubt in your mind, but simply one for show, you place it in his, watch the courtier watching this whole interaction for their responses are quite pleasing; varied from confusion to bewilderment, jealousy and envy. In his eyes you can see he enjoys this just as much. It’s a mutual understanding when he Brings your knuckles to his lips, placing a tender kiss atop and holds on, guides you along to the dance floor where another song comes to an end and couples leave or step in for the next dance about to start. When you step through, with the High Lord of Night on your side, it makes pairs think twice about joining, and instead they opt for staying clear.

“Looks like we’ll have an audience.” Words spoken out loud. The first ones you truly heard from him all night. You repress the urge to snort. Of course that’s what he’d say.

“Every the drama queen.” You retort under your breath and that grin of his grows as he faces you at the centre of the floor, one hand on your waist, the other behind his back. You place one hand on his shoulder and use the other to lift your heavily embellished skirts so they drape beautifully.

“I’m not the one wearing the crown.” He dips to whisper in your ear and you feel goosebumps scatter across your skin, much to Rhysand’s satisfaction because he doesn’t need to be a mindreader to see your response. Your eyes narrow after you recover and the dance starts.

“I assume you forgot yours at home, high lord?” Against the proper movements you rise your fingers to rest under his chin, brush along his jaw until they stroke along his cheek, to what some might describe as seductively. The look you give him certainly does not help.

“I couldn’t decide which one to wear. Perhaps your keen eye could help me choose my attire sometime? You seem to be quite the expert.” He lets his eyes wander suggestively. Such a shame the dance requires to your turn, though feeling your back pressed against him, as his arm rests around your waist, makes up for it and the way you tilt your head up to look at him as you sway together almost makes him forget you’re not the only ones in this room. You might look like ice but Cauldron be damned you certainly spark a fire within him.

“Since you seem so desperately in need of my touch, I will gladly offer my assistance.” You breathe, smile turning somewhat wicked. He threw a ball, and you simply hit it out of the park. No need to be shy about it. Not that you have any intentions of being so. It became clear that your previous interactions, some dalliances in younger years have not gone forgotten, and the attraction still remains. Wether it will be longterm or just another fling, who knows? For now you’ll indulge in the time you have. You’ll live in the moment and this moment is a good one.

“Are we still talking about apparel?” Rhys knows very well the intent behind your words, just as well as he knows the meaning behind his own. You made him feel like he belonged somewhere all those years ago. You make him feel so now too. That hasn’t changed. You look gorgeous but equally beautiful is your mind. Attraction is only partially physical and right now he’d desire nothing more than to bask in your comforts, the ones you offer aplenty. Though, with the way you look at him now, he’d love to take that heavy dress off you should you desire it so.

“Do you truly care about appearances?” You spin, the beads and crystals at the hem hitting the floor, and swaying across it as you continue the dance. Every step is precise, within rhythm, and perfectly executed. You’d expect nothing less from a noble raised, and you’d certainly learned too, if these are the events you’re attending. They come with certain rules, certain expectations and you’d always been one to defy expectations. That’s exactly why many of the males look at Rhysand wishing to be in his place now, staring daggers at him, or simply crestfallen they are not holding you in their arms but they could never satisfy you, not truly. You’d want more. You’d want truth without decorum but the ability to act. You need change and adventure, you need chaos and not just some prim and proper lapdog seeing to your every whim, or worse someone who would try to shape you into the perfect little trophy. Rhysand offers you adventure and freedom and maybe that’s why you agreed to him, indulged him and are quite satisfied with where this evening is going.

Centuries ago you met a young male with a bright mind, strong opinions and a dream for a better life, a better future, and the willingness to sacrifice what he had to to make that come true, yet never at the cost of what he holds dear. Now you see a high lord with many secrets, and far more on his plate than he should carry but someone with a love for what he does, even if he hates the bad parts, even if he hates being who he is here in the public eye, but you know what he holds close to his heart, what he protects and preserves. He would not exchange this for the world. You share his dreams, his ideals and his hopes and that lets you know, this is right. These choices are right.

“Only when I have to. Which right now, I suppose I don’t care about appearances.” The music comes to an end and you are face to face. You take a step back, step out of his arms and suddenly feel yourself cold without him there. You curtsey. He bows. You take a sep back, and another and another, staring into those violet eyes daring him to follow until you reach the edge of the crowd and then you turn on your heels, cast one final look over your shoulder and leave the ballroom. Rhysand, slowly follows behind, grins and watches you move through the people. Couples start filling the dance floor once more as he leaves, and plenty of eyes are on him, just as plenty are on yours. Rhysand scans the crowd for his companions, and finds he better should have stayed ignorant so he pushes those thoughts aside, sends a warning and informs them he’ll be elsewhere and they better behave themselves. He knows it’s useless but he couldn’t care less right now, not when he follows you, not when he connects with you as you tap your temple when you look over your shoulder once more to see him still following.

“Come on then. Don’t leave a girl waiting.” You humour and he laughs.

Weaving through the people and leaving the grounds of the event you lead the high lord of the night court up the stairs, the path to your chambers feeling far too long. Once you’ve reached the fourth floor you wait at the top of the stairs. Rhysand tentatively covers the distance, standing but two steps below you when you drop your hands on his shoulders, brushing along the silver work of his jacket. He dares bring his hands to your hips as he steps up one more step, as you stand on the edge of the top of the stairs; hair’s breath apart.

“May I?” He asks, eyes cast down towards your lips, slightly parted before they return to your eyes. You don’t reply in words but instead press your lips to his. You kiss him like there’s no tomorrow and Rhysand shares your sentiment, his hands wandering over your hips, along your waist, around your back pulling you closer to him, against him before one wanders to the underside of your breast, where between the beads and crystals that cover what’s expected to be covered but leave just enough skin exposed for you to moan into his mouth at that touch and given you weave your fingers into his hair, pull lightly at the roots and press closer into him, he repeats the motion.

“Sixth door on the right. Now” You instruct between kisses and you feel his lips curl upwards against yours. Rhysand sweeps you off your legs and lifts you in his arms, not once breaking contact with you and follows the hall without as much as a stumble. You drape one of your arms around his shoulders for support but let the other come to play with the closures of his jacket, undoing the ones you can read already.

“So eager.” He chuckles, allowing you to open the door.

“Not like you mind it but keep being cocky and you can stay out here.” You retort as he steps past the threshold. At your silent request he puts you back down, onto your feet. with a snap of your fingers lights spark to life in the interior, not too bright, but enough to reflect off your dress and basking you in a silver blue glow, one that reminds Rhys of real ice but also the stars he so admires. Leave it to you to charm him wholly. A dangerous thing, but he likes a little risk every so often. He certainly won’t back down from this one, especially not when that risk looks ravishing.

“Once upon a time you called it one of my more redeemable qualities.” He jokes and comes up behind you and discarding his jacket on the way. He brushes his fingers along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You cross your arms and snort.

“How ignorant I must have been.” You roll your eyes but then your attitude dies down when Rhys’ lips trail along the column of your neck and you feel his fingers trail down the buttons down the back of your dress. Slowly he undoes the first and when you make no protests, instead moan when you feel his teeth graze along the dip of your shoulder, he moves on to the next, and the next and the next. With it he kisses lower and lower, with each button undone until he reaches the last one, right above your tailbone. You hold the dress to your chest, and turns as the high lord of the night court sits kneeled before you, looking up to you.

“You look like a queen.” He comments.

“So I’ve been told.” You let one of the straps drop from your shoulders.

“You’ll look equally regal without it.” You urge him to rise, and when he does, ever so gently removes your hands from where they hold the dress in place, he pushes the final strap off your shoulder and so the fitted garment slides from your body. Rhysand admires your form, even curve, every dip, every mark, freckle, scar and spot. He admires every inch of your body.

“And you are entirely overdressed.” You take a step towards him, letting your fingers trace along the waistband of his fine trousers, pull free the shirt he wore underneath that jacket, and begin to lift it over his head. Rhysand watches as you trail along the markings on his torso, from the tattoos to the scars he’s collected over the years. You don’t shy away, you let your hands roam, and behind them follow your lips. He can’t do anything but watch you, as you trail down, slowly but surely make your way to the closures of the fabric he wants to get rid of but he’ll let you play the game now. Plenty of games he’ll have the opportunity to play later.

————

You run your fingers over his length, still covered and feel him tense, feel him twitch and you tut. You’ve pushed your luck because next you feel his hand brush along your breast, ever so lightly along your nipple, enough to tease but never enough to give you the true satisfaction. Rhysand laughs at your frustration. You suppose it’s payback and you get the message. You pull him free, make quick work of his final garments, and guide him along to your bed. When you push him to sit, he moves back on the bed, lets you crawl over him, lets your hands wander as you are face to face, crown still atop your head and he’s never seen anything more arousing than the image of you above him, looking like a true queen, in nothing but that crown. His hands fall to your hips, stroking around the roundness of your behind, as you kiss him deeply, tongue clashing with his and you ground your hips downward, along his aching length. He just raises his hips to meet yours, before he lets his fingers sink between your lower lips. He moans when he feels your own arousal. Perhaps he might have made a comment about how so little has gotten you so wet but now does not seem the right time and instead he moans your name when he feels your fingers wrap around him and give a tentative stroke up and down in retort.

“Enough games?” Rhys mutters against your lips as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Yeah. Enough games.” You moan as you feel him line himself up and you simply let yourself sink down. You drape your arms across his shoulders and rock your hips as his paced thrusts meet your movement. He relishes in the way your breath catches, in the little sounds you make, when you whisper his name, ask for more and he is happy to give it to you. The ice queen melts in his embrace and neither of you would have it any other way, not when you find sweet release time and time again. You’ll deal with the aftermath of your not so inconspicuous escapade some other time. For now you’ll enjoy each other’s intimate company.

#rhys x reader #rhys x you #acotar x you #acotar x reader #rhys acotar #acotar #acotar rhys #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand x reader #rhysand

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jamespotterthefirst · 1 year

Text

Flowers (Ethan x f!MC)

Book: Open Heart, book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1 K Rating/ Warning: T/ Language

Premise: She is stung when he sends flowers to someone else on Valentine’s Day

Note: The timeline of this makes no sense but just pretend shhh lol

“I'm not listening,” Lilac informs her determined friend, quickening her steps.

Kyra, on the other hand, is undeterred. She has no problem matching Lilac's long strides. A few nurses glance their way, no doubt amused by how the short brunette has to practically jog to keep up.

“Come on, Lil! What better day to break your dry spell than Valentine's Day!”

“Shh!”

Luckily, there is no one within earshot that Lilac can see.

“He's tall,” Kyra presses in sing-song, her grin brighter than the florescent hospital lights above them. “He's dark. He's handsome.”

Despite herself, Lilac rolls her eyes with a laugh.

“You're insane.”

“You love me.” Kyra punctuates that with a wink. “At least tell me you'll think about it? I think you'll really like Derek.”

With a dramatic sigh, Lilac finally relents. “Fine. I'll think about it.”

That was good enough to put her friend at ease. She grins wider than ever before and goes her own way, vanishing through her office door. Lilac, meanwhile, travels through the halls absently, feeling more like a ghost than a resident. Her mind races with the prospect of dating someone new…of finally moving on.

It makes her stomach drop unpleasantly.

“Rookie.”

The rich baritone makes her jump. For a wild moment, she wonders if all her desperate pining summoned him there. Then, she reminds herself to stop being so ridiculous and pathetic.

“Dr. Ramsey.”

They hold each other's gazes a beat too long.

“Is there something I can help you with, Dr. Allende?”

Lilac, love struck and momentarily stunned by icy blue eyes, could think of many ways he could help her. Instead, she forces herself out of her reverie and unsuccessfully wills her pulse to descend to normal speed.

“Yes. Miss Chapman's results came back. I reviewed them and everything looks normal.”

He nods once. “Excellent. Please set them on my desk. I will review them when I return from my meeting with Naveen.”

She nods, but doesn't move.

He doesn't either.

Neither wants to abandon this rare, private moment. The way his eyes study her face feels far more intimate than any caress. Her heart is a frantic hummingbird, its wings flapping fiercely against her ribcage. Its only relief would be tearing her chest open or kissing Ethan.

Neither are possible.

At last, Ethan moves away and disappears down the hall.

“Get a grip, Allende,” Lilac mutters to herself when she finally regains movement in her legs.

The solitude of his empty office is a relief. Before she can dwell on what a fool she made out of herself, she hurries to drop off the file atop the grand mahogany desk. The movement, however, sends the neat pile of papers flying.

“Shit!”

Frantically, she dances around the office, arms flailing above her as she tries to catch the hurricane of papers. If anyone walked in at that moment, they would get a kick of the ridiculous sight. Just when she thinks she's recovered everything, a small, yellow note catches her attention from the floor.

Liberty Street Flowers, the top reads in bold letters.

The rational part of her brain says she should pick up the receipt, set it on Ethan's desk, and promptly continue with her day. A curious and morbid fraction of her brain, however, wants to read on. That part ultimately wins because she brings the receipt close and reads:

Something cold drills into her insides.

Lilac reads the receipt again, trying to make sense of it. Her eyes snag on the word "romantic" and her stomach drops to her feet. With a sickening feeling, she accepts the reality in her shaky hands.

The doors of the office open and she makes no effort to hide their receipt.

“Dr. Allende—”

The look on Lilac's face halts his steps.

“Are you alright?”

A deadly, poisonous silence heavier than lead follows. Then—

“I didn't take you for someone who celebrated Valentine's Day.”

More silence.

This time, his meticulously crafted expression betrays confusion.

“I don't. Not usually.”

Unable to help herself, she scoffs. Lilac should know better than to lash out— she should be walking away, head held high, ready to privately lick her wounds. At least then she'd have her decency. But the unforgiving sting of jealousy overpowers her, robbing her of all common sense.

Fuck decency.

“I also didn't know you were big on sending flowers.”

Icy blue eyes fall to the paper on her hands.

“You went through my belongings.”

Lilac ignores this, too hurt and angry to give him any explanations. Her throat is so tight at this point that she can barely get words out. The tears sting her eyes but she will hold them back if it's the last thing she does.

Ethan's characteristic stoicism begins to shift into anger.

“Dr. Allende, might I remind you that going through my private—”

“You never sent any to me.”

The words are small but impossible to miss.

They are mighty, too, because they seem to strike him like a whip.

“Lilac.”

His expression softens into something she can't bear to look at. It is akin to empathy and pity.

She straightens, enraged.

“I always forget,” she continues, the words heavy with venom. “I was just a good fuck for you, wasn't I? Good enough to fuck in secret but not to send flowers to.”

Her words hit a nerve. Ethan's face floods with color, icy eyes flashing dangerously.

“You have no idea what you're talking about.”

His tone is deathly and collected.

“Who is she?”

“What?”

“Who's Audrina?”

They are standing close now, almost nose to nose.

“Is she someone you plan to spend more than two nights with?”

He says nothing.

“Are you eventually running away on her, too?”

“Enough.”

The single word is like a slap.

“You have no right.”

She staggers back. The words are the twist to the knife and yet, she can’t begrudge them. They’re undeniably true.

“You have no right to act this way, Lilac. I am your boss and you're my employee. Who I send flowers to is none of your concern.”

He's right.

Lilac had no right to be jealous, no matter how desperately she loved him.

That's the part that stung the most.

Those blue eyes pierce her and she loses all steam. Humiliated, she all but flees the office, finally letting the tears win.

Author’s note: Meep.

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #lort grant me the strength to write a part 2 #also i still owe you guys that part 2 of jenner

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inkheartedwanderer · 2 years

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the last in line || e.m.

in which you really need coffee and eddie just happens to be in your way

eddie x fem!reader we’ve all heard of luna lovegood readers, now I give you lorelai gilmore readers (aka caffeine-fueled slightly chaotic individuals).

content: meet-cute, a lil’ bit of flirting, a lil’ bit of caffeine dependency, 100% inspired by my favourite story in gilmore girls, badly proofread because it’s 2:30am

word count: 2.9k

The diner is unsurprisingly busy, like every Friday night, when the Hellfire Club walks in. Small but cozy, it’s located on the very edge of town. The checkered floor is sticky and the smell of oil mixed with cinnamon clings to the light blue walls and the fake leather seats like bad perfume, but they always have rock music playing softly in the background and, better yet, they make the best burger and fries in town since Benny’s closed down -greasy, tasty and cheap. Perfect for a bunch of hungry boys with limited budgets.

Grabbing a bite after their weekly meetings has become new a tradition now that Eddie and Jeff have graduated, both boys part of Hellfire still, their friendship and bonds over shared interests transcending the halls of Hawkins High. They’re a rowdy group, rambunctious and loud, and they don’t have the best reputation in town, but the owner knows them and always welcomes them in without qualms, just a plea to keep the noise to a minimum. They try their best to behave and fail half the time.

Tonight, the Club is particularly animated. They started a new campaign earlier today and Eddie’s gone all out. With an intricately designed storyline, extra minor quests, tricky villains and a surprise plot twist at the end that no one’s expecting, this is his best work yet, if he says so himself. Satisfied with the feedback he’s received so far, Eddie is in a very good mood as they sit around their usual booth, one to the right that’s big enough for all seven of them, so much so that he volunteers to order for the group.

As it often happens when they get together, chaos ensues, each boy outscreaming the others trying to get their leader’s attention, words mixing in that cacophony of incoherent noise that seems to follow them everywhere. But if the party’s loud, Eddie Munson is louder, and he commands attention with ease. Slamming is ringed hand on the wooden table, he makes himself heard. “Shut up!”

Six pairs of eyes focus on him, knowing better than to try and argue with the boy -he’s nothing if not stubborn, and although kind and generous, Eddie hates to be contradicted or ignored. So they look in silence, expectantly, as they do when they’re in the middle of a campaign and he’s weaving stories in a low voice.

A cheeky smile that borders on condescension spreads across Eddie’s lips when he leans over the table.“Now, boys, let’s behave.” He slides out of his seat and shoves his hands into his pockets, retrieving a crumpled piece of paper that he smoothes out on the table. “Do any of you have a pen?”

Dustin rummages through his backpack and hands Eddie a nearly dry pen from the front pocket. He struggles to get the ink flowing, idly leaning forward, resting on his elbows, but finally manages to write down their orders, pointing to his friends one by one so they speak in turn. He then stands up, snatches the paper with a flourish and walks towards the bar.

He passes by two teenage girls who send disgusted looks his way, and when Eddie wiggles his fingers in mock salute, they turn their attention back to one of the many magazines spread out on the table between them.

There’s a couple holding hands and what seems to be a family of four already at the counter, the parents struggling to read the menu and keep their two young children quiet. While the father tries to control a restless boy, the mother is holding a pouty little girl on her hip.

Eddie sighs dramatically to himself and stops a few feet behind, waiting for his turn with an exaggerated sour face. He busies himself thinking about the latest song he’s working on, his fingers playing invisible chords on his thigh, his foot tapping the floor to a beat only he can hear. It draws the attention of the little girl, who looks at him over her mum’s shoulder with big curious eyes.

The boy smiles and sticks out his tongue at her, chuckling amusedly when she hides behind her mother’s hair. He’s considering talking to her when he feels two taps on his shoulder.

Eddie turns around, confusion clouding his features, only to find you glancing up at him with a wide smile and gleaming eyes. He raises an eyebrow and gives you a quick once-over. You look a little dishevelled, your clothes wrinkled and a red scrunchie doing a poor job at holding your hair back, but it kind of works for you. You’re cute, he thinks. And if Eddie Munson is sure of anything in this life is that cute girls like you don’t walk up to him and strike up a conversation. And yet…

“Hiya.” You say, too brightly, too cheerily for Eddie’s taste.

“Hi..?” He answers, polite but cautious. He’s been the target of one too many attempted pranks at the hands of his classmates, not that any were successful, and he instantly feels on edge at the memory of a giggly cheerleader walking up to him, trying to trick him into an obviously fake date.

“How’s it going?” You’re jiggling on your feet, blinking owlishly at him, and he’s getting nervous, a feeling tiptoeing the line between anticipation and apprehension. No, cute girls like you don’t usually chat Eddie up, but oh, how he wishes you would.

“‘M great.” Eddie ducks his head to level his eyes with yours, squinting. You notice the way his jaw clenches and your smile grows bigger. “Can I help you?” He instantly dislikes the bite to his words, his prudence turned into unfair resentment, but if you pick up on it, you give no sign of it.

“Well, now that you mention it…,” you motion to the counter with your hand, nails painted a pretty dark red colour that Eddie likes very much, “...can I go first?”

The boy snorts. He must have heard wrong. “Excuse me?”

You don’t lose your saccharine sweet smile. Instead, you clasp your hands together, shifting from one foot to the other to the rhythm of the music. “Can I order first?”

Definitely not what Eddie was expecting. The boy takes a quick look around. No one seems to be listening to your conversation, there’s no group of jocks laughing at him, no friend waiting for you in a booth with a smug smirk on her face. There’s just you and those big innocent eyes of yours looking at him in a way that make his breath hitch in his throat.

Eddie stares at you. You stare back.

“…no.” He turns around, his back to you, positively dumbfounded.

“Oh, come on!” You move to stand beside him and he instinctively takes a step back. “There’s too many people in line already and I’m desperate here!”

Maybe it’s the way you’re looking at him, with a pinch in your eyebrows, maybe it’s the melodramatic undertone to your words -one he’s well-acquainted with-, or maybe it’s just a momentary lapse in judgement caused by all the serotonin in his bloodstream, but Eddie laughs and decides to play along.

“So am I, I have a family to feed.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder towards his booth. You lean to the side and follow the direction of his finger with your eyes. Six boys sit around a table chattering loudly, none of them paying any attention to you two.

“You’ve definitely been busy, haven’t ya?” You meet his eyes again and snicker briefly, amused by your own joke. He hopes you don’t notice the rush of blood that tinges his cheeks at your words. “I just want coffee, please, please. I’m not above begging.”

Eddie flicks his wrist and glances at his watch. “It’s 8:30 pm.”

You shrug, because duh. “I know.”

“You want coffee at 8:30 pm.” It isn’t a question as much as him stating the obvious. He’s looking at you like you have three heads.

“So what? Coffee knows no time.” You huff, pushing your lower lip out in a pout, and Eddie stares again, because it looks pink and bitten and at the end of the day, he is but a simple guy. “Look, what’s your name?”

“Eddie.”

You offer him yours in return. It’s a pretty name for a pretty girl. He tries it under his breath, and likes the way it tastes on his tongue. You won’t tell him that you’ve heard it, that he isn’t subtle, nor that you find him cute. He doesn’t need to know that, not yet -you’re now committed to your bit.

"Well, Eddie, see, life's unfortunate circumstances have made me a student. I've spent the whole day in the library,” you point to your messy clothes and hair, the result of many hours sitting at a desk and a few anxious tears, “and I'm desperate to get my coffee and go home."

Eddie rises a quizzical brow, crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side. You like the way his fluffy curls cascade over his shoulder, how they look soft to the touch. His lips twitch, trying to conceal a smile, but the lines under his eyes, right where his eyelashes touch betray him and your heart bumps and thumps in your chest. “You’ve come here all the way from the library to get coffee? We’re on the other side of town.”

“What can I say? Donny makes the best coffee in Hawkins.”

“You’re on a first name basis with the owner?”

There’s a glint in your eyes and a dimple in your smile when you reply, like you’re hiding secrets and daring him to find them out. “I’m on a first name basis with anyone who gives me what I want.”

If Eddie was nervous before, now his stomach is doing somersaults for completely different reasons. His cheeks are burning and he prays to whoever is listening that they don’t look as red as they feel. And then, he does what he’s best at when he feels out of control: he ignores the issue and backs off, willing his poor heart to calm down from its frantic rattling.

“You- you have problems.”

“So I’ve been told.” You answer, clearly amused, and your laugh sounds like bells, light and melodious, like it belongs in a song. When he doesn’t answer, you try again, the urge to push his buttons rivaling your need for caffeine. “You know, I don’t think good ol’ Ronnie would appreciate your lack of chivalry.”

At the bar, the couple has already ordered and the waitress moves on to the family. The little girl is sound asleep in her mother’s arms, but the boy is still babbling and in full motion, climbing up the stool and jumping off to the floor, running away and back under the tired watch of his father.

Eddie steps forward, away from you and your bizarre, albeit charming -not that he would admit it- nonsense, and exhales. “What are you talking about?”

You poke the patch on the back of his vest. “Ronnie James Dio?” Eddie gives you a puzzled look and you throw your head back, defeat and fatigue taking away all the fun. Puns are less funny if you have to explain them. “The Last in Line?” You make a motion with your arms, signaling first to where he’s standing, then to the empty space behind you.

It’s Eddie’s turn to look at the ceiling, choking back a laugh. “Holy shit.” He drags out the words, then looks at you with an expression that’s somewhere between deeply exasperated and thoroughly entertained. “That one’s bad, sweetheart, that one’s veeeery bad. Just for that, I won’t let you go first. See, me and my boys are really hungry, can’t have the kids waiting. Sorry, love.”

Your face falls, jaw slacked in dramatic offence. You really want coffe and really, really want to go home and crash into your bed; but you also think Eddie’s attractive, you like the subtle dimples in his smile and how flustered you can get him. And there’s a challenge in his eyes, you see it clear as day, dancing in between specs of chocolate and umber, a challenge that you can’t refuse.

You study the boy, scanning him up and down; the quirk of your brow making him hold his breath. Your eyes flick to the right, then back to his face, a promise of trouble and mischief in your smirk. “When’s your birthday?”

Eddie frowns, confused. “January 26, why?”

“I’ll be right back.”

He watches as you nip over to the table where the two teenage girls are sitting, helpless victims to your machinations. They protest when you snatch a magazine from their hands and turn the pages roughly until you find what you want, only to grab the pen one of them is holding and scribble something down furiously. With a swift motion, you tear the bottom of the page out and stroll back to his side, ignoring the girls’ angry whines.

You stop a few feet away from Eddie and stretch out your arm, offering him the torn paper. He takes it, curiosity winning over reluctance, and reads. It’s the horoscope section of whichever tween magazine the girls were reading. Under Aquarius, in swooping letters, and with a little smiley face adorning the corner, you’ve written:

“You will meet an annoying woman today. The faster she gets her coffee, the faster she will go away.”

Eddie can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips, clear and warm and boyish. You smile as he looks at you, then back at the paper and at you again. He bites his lower lip, thoughts racing his a mile a minute. Perhaps sometimes cute girls do approach people like him, and not just for a laugh at his expense. Perhaps he finds you endearing, the same way his friends accept his own antics and weird moods.

He nods once, pointing at you with his chin, pursing his lips to hide his grin. “Do you actually like Dio?”

“Duh,” you say, not unkindly, playfully, as if you’ve known each other for years, “The Last In Line is great, but I think Holy Diver is still my favourite.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Eddie beams at you, teeth on full display, dimples and laughter lines adorning the pretty curve of his lips. And then, to your delight, with a wave of his arm, he takes a step back and bows. “Please, m’lady, go ahead.”

You take his place in line and laugh again, that joyous sound that rings like music, like it should be in a ballad, or an anthem, like maybe Eddie should record it and put it in his new song. He may ask you, if he gathers enough courage before you go.

With a warm coffee to go held tightly in your hands, you turn around, away from the counter, finally all set to go home. You take one, two, three steps and stop right in front of Eddie. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

“You lucked out, y’know?” He leans in, confidentially. “Any other guy would’ve called Pennhurst straight away.”

“How, oh kind sir, will I ever repay you?” You nudge him softly. You’re somehow closer than you were before, looking up at him through your lashes, and if he didn’t know better, Eddie would think you’re playing coy.

You’re giving him the opportunity, he realises, the one chance to ask for what you both want. He’d be an utter fool not to take it.

“You can go out with me some time.”

And you don’t know if it’s his boldness, or those awfully big brown eyes, or maybe it’s both, but you’re suddenly speechless and can only nod, cheeks burning hot, until words find you again. Only one. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Eddie’s eyes widen, like he can’t believe his luck, because he truly can’t, and he’s fearless because of you, “it’s a date.”

You look to the floor, hiding your face, hiding a smile. “Sounds great.” And you make to the door; your heart in a frenzy inside your chest, blood rushing to your ears, numbing the sounds around you until Eddie’s voice calling your name reaches you crystal clear.

“Hey! I don’t have your number…”

You turn around slowly, that mischievous glint back in your eyes. “I think you do. Good night, Eddie.”

The door chimes when you push it, the sound of the late evening traffic coming in from the street until it closes again behind you. You don’t look back and leave him wanting, anticipating, the cogs turning in his head.

He looks down at the ripped paper he’s still holding like a trophy and, on a hunch, flips it around. There it is, in the same sloping handwriting. Your phone number, with a little heart doodle at the end.

Eddie must be dreaming. Today is definitely a great day.

🌷 🌷 🌷

a/n: thank you so much for reading 💖 I really hope you like this one, and if you’re Gilmore Girls fans please let’s chat! 🫶🏻😇💖 As always, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and welcome.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fluff #fluff

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frenchfrywrites · 2 years

Note

I don’t play TWST but after reading the Russian roulette and fear pissing headcanons, I was wondering if I could request that with the demon brothers and barb? Idk if your comfortable with this, but I was wondering if the brothers and barb could be afab! I’m okay with whatever tho:) take ur time and make sure to chug some piss in ur free time

Russian Roulette and Fear Pissing with the bros + Barb

MINORS DNI

Lucifer

Knows that you can’t and won’t actually hurt him so that takes away a little of the experience

But he loves how dominating and intimidating you look with the gun in your hand

He’ll be in subspace in no time if you play your cards right, and get a lil rough with him ;)

If you want him to wet himself though you have to get him prepped for that (i.e. get him to drink lots of water beforehand)

Because he won’t piss from fear alone

He’ll wet himself if you nudge the gun against his urethra

The shock from the cold metal is what gets him to release it

And boy is he embarrassed and surprised ! (and horny!!)

Mammon

I can def see Mammon being the most into this

Like,, our man def gets fear boners even though there’s no point in him being scared

There’s just so many things that make it fun for him (his masochism, the feeling of the cold gun against his hot n wet pussy, pissing, etc)

Like all of it is deeply arousing and exhilarating in his book

He shakes and squirms and whimpers and cries- the whole nine yards

Even though he’s scared he ends up pissing himself from excitement

The anticipation gets to him lmao, like it’s so random

He might beg that you continue even with him relieving himself

He just can’t get enough of how good (and scared) he feels

Levi

We all know this guy totally underestimates himself.. so he might convince himself the gun will actually hurt him 💀

That being said he starts out anxious and only gets more anxious as you shoot more and more blanks

He’s the only one I could see actually hyperventilating and sobbing because he deludes himself so well lmao

That being said he wets himself quickly

And then gets even more scared, because he thinks you’ll be mad at him for that

You gotta fuck him soft n sweet after so he calms down

Even though he was so dramatic and scared, I can imagine him really liking it- and wanting to do it again (because omggg u looked so cool and dominating down there it makes him all flustered and hot thinking about it)

Satan

He LOVES having you aim something so dangerous at him (well.. Something that's dangerous to humans at least lmao)

Part of him thinks the situation is hilarious, but at the same time he’d be pretty quick to get into his subspace

He barely shows that he’s scared but oooh you can absolutely pick it up if you’re paying attention

His breath picks up and hitches at each click, especially if you’re random with each round

I think he’d wet himself from a mix of anticipation and fear

Because unlike mammon he’s not really into the hurt that comes with being shot- so he’s actually kinda scared

Also LOVES if you degrade or dumbify him after he’s wet himself

Is super open to doing it again

Asmo

I think he’s mildly scared tbh

Like he knows you won’t do any real damage or even hurt him at all

But he also knows he’s def not as powerful as his older bros and it’d take him longer to recover

Plus the clicks of the gun are so loud

However scared he really is, he likes to show his fear so he’ll be shaking early on, squirming around under you and whining that you put it away and fuck him already

He pisses himself out of fear if you do a couple of quick rounds

The shock of each one coming after the other with no break between gets to his head

Very conflicted because he feels good emptying his bladder, but also you’re still holding the gun to his pussy and that’s still kinda freaking him out

He’s a bit scatter-brained and having you fuck him dumb (and being all sweet with him) will def making him feel better

Beel

If he’s scared or nervous about anything it’s due to the fact that he’s never done something like this

He doesn’t know what to expect and that’s got him a bit on edge

After a couple of rounds the anticipation and anxiety gets to him

He shakes a bit under you, his bottom lip wobbling and his eyes scrunched closed

Wetting himself is def his favorite part of this scene by far

He’ll want you to coo and comfort him for getting so scared that he wets himself

He gets way more turned on from pissing than he does the gun

(However he can’t deny he likes it when you touch him with the barrel of the gun.. The cool metal feels very nice against his pussy)

Overall he didn’t mind it and is open to doing it again if you want

Belphie

I think he’d be pretty scared..

It’s going to hurt, he’s going to take a bit to recover, and you look really serious down there

He’s not as dramatic as Levi or Mammon but it’s obvious he’s scared

What’s cute is that he keeps saying that he’s not scared

And yet his voice quivers and his body squirms under you

His thighs totally shake from him trying to keep them open

He wets himself after a short while, and it’s obvious that made him feel a lot better

He’ll want you to fuck him lovingly and he’ll (surprisingly) be a very well-behaved sub for you while you do it

Barbatos

Oh he doesn’t have a scared bone in his body

But he does feel more submissive and small with you holding the gun to him

Eventually he can get himself in the mindset of being scared and then he’s having a good time

It takes a bit though so the first few rounds are really boring

He might even smirk or giggle a bit.. He’s not trying to be cocky or bratty! but cmon both of you know he cant be hurt by a silly lil gun

He’ll start twitching and squirming as you do more and more rounds

It’ll also take him a while to piss out of fear. But he’ll get there (especially if you press on his bladder)

Like Lucifer I think if you prodded at him with the barrel he’d be more on edge

By the end he’s definitely in subspace and very aroused by the idea of you being a threat.

#its literally been 10000000 years since i did hcs so forgive me if im a bit rusty #rq #spice #brainrot #p/iss #cw fear play #sub obey me

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interstellarwizard2019 · 6 months

Text

Two Scary Stories For A Mac N’ Cheese

The gentle hum of a tuneless melody rang through the

the home of two of Earthbread’s zaniest Professors as Cheese Ball moved a line of Berry Pupas from their first container into a colorful Berryfly hutch that hung on her office wall. When she finished, she stood back and admired her work. Almost 45 Strawberry Sugar Swirl caterpillars have successfully pupated that day and have begun their next phase in their lives. The quirky professor turned her attention to a small to-do list that rested on her desk and proceeded to check-off a few item boxes.

"Okey-dokey…Pupated caterpillars: Moved! Student’s homework: Grrrrrraded! Cheesebeetle farm: cleaned and maintained!” Cheese Ball giggled as she checked off all of her remaining tasks for the day. She whooped and did a little victory dance when she realized she’d done all her chores for the day. Now all that was left was a shower, tuck her Lil’ Mac to bed, and drag her night owl of a hubby to bed before he passed out from exhaustion.

After a quick shower, Cheese Ball then took her son and showered him and put him in a set of butter tiger print pjs, to which he proceeded to ‘Maul’ his own mother afterwards…Cheese Ball could do nothing but scream out in agony and hold the ferocious beast in the air as its little ‘claws’ attempted to strike her.

“Oh nooooo! Someone help me! A hungry butter tiger is trying to eat meeeee!!! The Professor cried out in pain as she gently shook the heinous beast over her head and plopped him onto his bed. “The beast has been tamed!”

Mac N’ Cheese pulled down the sheets of his bed as Cheese Ball sat on a chair beside him, she tucked him into bed and handed him his stuffed cheesebird plush.

“Alright, kiddo, what story do ya wanna hear tonight?” She asked as she combed the green bookshelf on the wall with her hand. “We got: Cowboy Cookie’s Hoedown Throwdown, Cinderella Cookie, The dragon and the dancer, or how ‘bout-“

“Something…spooky!” Mac N’ Cheese squeaked gleefully, throwing his hands in the air as he spoke.

“Somethin’ spooky?! Kid, you’ve too much mustard, ya know that?” Cheese Ball scolded playfully, poking her kid’s nose for emphasis. “Why not the usual silly story instead?”

“Spooky story! Spooky story!” The tiny gremlin cookie demanded, throwing off the sheets and bouncing in the bed ecstatically.

“Okay! Okay! Chill, Mac! I’ll tell ya a spooky story! Just relax!” Cheese Ball soothed, not wanting her son to get hurt she decided to cave into his demands for a ‘Spooky story’ for just one night. “But don’t you start bouncing on your bed like that again, alright? Can’t have you cracking your dough before you even start preschool.”

The young cookie cheered and hopped back to bed, his mother let out a short sigh and looked over the bookcase again to try to find a 'Spooky Story' to read. "Well, Mac, Looks like we don't have anythin' spooky in your reading collection, so I'm gonna have to improvise here, sweetie."

Mac N’ Cheese looked tentatively at Cheese Ball, she rubbed her chin trying to come up with a clever story. As she hemmed and hawed a few stories finally came to mind. “Eureka! Okay, Lil’ Mac, have ya heard the tale of the Heartless king of the citadel or…the Golden Queen of the Scorching Dunes? Which one do ya wanna hear first, hon?”

“Both!” The young Cookie proclaimed. Cheese Ball pretended to be shocked by his answer, she dramatically placed her hand over her chest as if taken aback by his response.

“Both?! You’re really asking to get nightmares tonight aren’t ya, caterpillar?” She playfully ruffled her son’s hair before inching her chair closer. “But sure, I’ll tell ya both. Let’s start with the Heartless king.”

“Our story begins many centuries ago…”

In a land far, far away from ours, In an endless snowy tundra there is a kingdom forever coated in a thick blanket of eternal snow and bitterness. There lives a king born of malice and bitterness, the unfortunate result of the unholy union of licorice-tainted snow lion and a soulless warlord. He roams the strawberry jam-stained battlefield reattaching the limbs of the dead and dying soldiers and uses his sword to force their souls to come back to life as undead warriors that follow his every command. His roar is powerful enough to summon a powerful blizzard and every step he takes causes the ground beneath his feet to turn to lifeless ice.

The desserts that live under his reign tremble and hide whenever they feel his presence, for whoever catches a glimpse of the king's eyes have their minds broken and become strawberry jam-thirsty monsters that attack anything in sight. The cookies in his kingdom live in a constant state of eternal hunger, their dough has fallen off of their bodies due to the lack of food and unforgiving cold…to the point that many of them have resorted to cookiebalism! Hunting down any foolish outsider who dare enter their domain. Some say that they kidnap lost children and force them to become ruthless warriors!

There once lived a healer in a village by the frigid seas who did all in her power to help her fellow cookies, but because of the king’s dark influence on the land it was slowly becoming an impossible task. Then The Heartless King chose her to be the vessel in which she would carry his offspring; he even threatened to destroy her village if she refused. Without any other options, she reluctantly agreed and thus conceived his child, but sadly she lost her life during the birth leaving the poor boy in the care of his odious father making him grow up to be a sovereign of darkness.

It is said that the King lives deep within the cold walls of a citadel made of bricks as dark as his own heart. Not a single soul who enters his den ever comes out. “Why?” You may ask. Because if you so much as make the slightest sound, a single pindrop, the slightest breath…HE BURST OUT FROM THE SHADOWS AND GOBBLES YOU UP WHOLE!!!

Cheese Ball picked up her son from his bed and pretended to bite down on the side of his stomach which soon turned into her blowing raspberries causing him to burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. He squirmed as she proceeded to blow raspberries on his neck. Finally Cheese Ball playfully dropped him onto the bed and pulled the sheets back on him.

"Welp! That's the story of the Heartless King, bugaboo." Cheese Ball chirped, tucking him back to bed and planting a kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight, my sweet little prince!" As she got up to leave she felt a tiny hand grab her arm.

"Wait, what about the Golden Queen of The Scorching Dunes, mama? Weren't you going to tell me both stories?" Mac N’ Cheese asked. Cheese Ball sighed and sat back in the chair.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell ya the tale…OF THE GOLDEN QUEEN OF THE SCORCHING DUUUUUUUUUUNES!!!” Cheese Ball bombastically announced, she dramatically waved her hands in the air for emphasis. Once more Little Mac cheered and got ready for his second story.

Hidden within shimmering sands, blazing hot deserts, and cheesy valleys, there resides a kingdom inhabited by cheesebirds, moles, and cookies alike, all of whom were ruled by a cruel Queen bound within a golden sarcophagus. She forced all of her citizens to slave away in her palace. The cheesebirds were made to use their little beaks to carve out statues of gold in her image, the moles were banished to the mines where they were forced to dig out clusters of gold 24/7, the cookies were made to work in the Queen’s refineries. The kingdom itself looked as if it had been abandoned for years, but in reality it was still inhabited but the citizens were so occupied with maintaining the Gilded Palace and the Queen’s many treasures day and night that they couldn’t take care of their own homes.

The Queen had a daughter, a meek little princess whom she created to act as a false goddess. She kept her bound within a golden birdcage hung high above the palace and used her to inspire false hope within the citizens to make them continue serving the Queen…until one day…the princess escaped her cage! It turned out that she…she…she…she fell in love with a mole scientist! And he had helped her escape the birdcage! The Queen was enraged by her beloved jewel’s disobedience, she commanded that she be punished immediately so she sent out two mole soldiers to kill both the princess and her forbidden lover. Not only did she stage their deaths as a murder, she pinned the blame on the moles, thus giving her every right to banish every mole underneath the soil ‘til time’s quietus!

“But that’s not fair! She made them kill them for her!” Little Mac interrupted.

“You tellin’ the story or am I, ya bard?” Cheese Ball playfully scolded, gently ruffling his fluffy hair. “Now, where was I?

“The mummy queen banished the moles for time’s quietness!”

“Ah! Yes! The banishment!” Cheese Ball exclaimed “And it’s ‘Quietus’, sweetheart. It’s a fancy way of saying the end of something or someone.” She cleared her throat when she finished.

Anyways, the Queen’s cruelty knew no bounds. Once the moles have been exiled to the underground, she forced the cheesebirds and cookies to pick up the work the moles left behind, they had their basic essentials of living withheld to force them to continue their labor. Their water was taken away by a dam, their food supplies were

buried deep underground within the mines, and their children had their futures planned out by the queen herself…But alas this was not the Queen’s cruelest deed yet!

Once every decade, on the hottest day of the year, the Queen opens the doors to the Gilded Palace to allow foolish wanderers in. Drawn by the allure of the endless riches that rest within the heart of the palace, the cookie shall enter a room filled to the brim with riches beyond imagination! All the rubies, diamonds, and pearls that could make one eternally rich with only a handful! But this was all a trap…

In the center of the room lies a golden Sarcophagus…it will be on the cookie to come closer…and closer…until finally…THE GOLDEN QUEEN REVEALS HERSELF!!! The revolting mummified sovereign lunges out of her gilded coffin and uses her living bandages to ensnare her victim, dragging them into the sarcophagus where she’ll steal their life energy and trap their souls forever in her tomb!!!

Once she finished her second story, Cheese Ball expected either a tired or frightened Little Mac, but instead…he was actually laughing! He was never the least bit spooked by either of her stories, if anything he was…enthralled.

"Hold up, you're still not the least bit scared?!" Cheese Ball Faux-Angrily asked. She picked up the giggly youngster and pulled up the back of his shirt. “Something must be wrong here, let me see what the problem is…”

She began to tap his upper back as if it were a control panel in a machine, even going as far as to make the cartoonishly exaggerated sounds of pressing buttons, in return Mac N’ Cheese laughed even louder and began to squirm around. Finally she pulled him into an upside down hug and pulled one of his feet to her ear like a phone.

“Customer service? Yeah, hi, I’m having trouble with my Spook-O-Matic 5000. I just told him two scary stories and he just laughed at them! Hello? Ya there?” Cheese Ball then placed her son in bed and proceeded to tickle his foot which resulted in even more laughter from him. “Looks like the slacker hung up on me!”

Finally, the little cookie let out a yawn and his eyelids began to feel heavy. Cheese Ball took this as her cue to lay him to rest. She tucked him once more, handed him the orange bird plush and gave him a kiss goodnight on the forehead.

“Good night, my sweet little rolly-polly!” She said and then blew a quick raspberry into his cheek.

“Good night, Mama…!” Mac N’ Cheese yawned as he curled up and slowly began to drift asleep.

Even though she failed to scare him at least she managed to tire out the endless ball of energy that was her son. She smiled at the sight of his peaceful slumber, she turned off the Safari themed lamp on his nightstand and quietly made her way out of his bedroom shutting the door as she left.

On the second floor’s balcony, Macaroni was busy gazing into his telescope to admire the night sky. With every adjustment he made he jotted down any slight difference in his notepad. While this wasn’t the colossal telescope from his observatory it still brought him a great amount of joy to gaze up at the stars. He heard someone open the glass sliding door behind him then they sat down next to him and then leaned their weight onto his side, he smiled as he immediately rested his head on their shoulder.

“Buonasera, Bella!” He greeted as he snuggled up to his chubby wife’s side and wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Good evening to you too, chunker!” She purred as she nuzzled his cheek. “Spot any aliens tonight, hon?” She asked jokingly.

“None yet, but I think I’m fine with taking care of the ones back in the observatory. After all, three’s a crowd!” Macaroni chuckled while Cheese Ball giggled at his joke.

“You’re really somethin’, Eh, Mac?” She enquired as she got up from her seat. “Anyways I already set our fierce little Butter Tiger to bed; That boy is getting bigger by the day!”

“Well, considering how big his old man is I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Macaroni chuckled as he patted his belly. He then got up and stretched out his back. “I take it you’re here to drag me back to bed?”

“Considering the fact that you’d pull three all nighters in a row if I don’t: yes. Yes I am.” Cheese Ball smirked as she followed him to their bedroom, making sure to playfully pinch his cheek. He made a slightly annoyed huffing sound at her remark.

“Hey! It was ONE time back in college, Cheesy! I had an important paper to turn in that week!” He retorted as he slipped into his nightgown and cap. “Besides, didn't you once stick a whole swarm of bees to your face back then, Captain Honeybeard?”

“Eh, fair point, babe.” Cheese Ball plopped onto bed and kicked off her slippers. “Still do though.”

As they both settled in bed, Cheese Ball pulled out a manila envelope from underneath the mattress and placed it between them, a broad smile spread across her face as she waited in anticipation. Macaroni sat there staring at it for a solid minute before slowly reaching for it and opening it, dreading what might be in it.

“Is…is it from last month’s trip, bella?” Macaroni awkwardly responded with a nervous smile, he’s seen similar envelopes Cheese Ball handed him many months before, he dreaded opening the bulging parchment for he knew what it contained, but he couldn’t resist his wife’s eager expression as she nodded for him to open it. He took a deep breath and carefully pulled it open and pulled out its contents. It was…surprisingly not entirely what he expected.

Sure, it contained what he anticipated: Pictures of untreated injuries, financial documentation, interviews from some of the watchers and even the declining state of several of the villages in the Dark Cacao Kingdom. Some were even ruined and the void of all life. Macaroni kept looking through, his eyes widening with every new bit of info he saw, until he saw what was by far the most bizarre set of pictures in the envelope.

He pulled out a stack of photos and immediately recognized who the subject was: King Dark Cacao Cookie. From the looks of it he appeared to be in his office in all of the photos.

The first set showed him standing in front of a ten-tiered Macaron tower that was placed in the center of his office. He was eyeing the whole delicate piece with his usual stoic expression, but he looked as if he were…struggling to maintain it.

The second set showed him taking a single macaron from the tower and taking small deliberate bites out of it with one hand and with the other reaching for another macaron. This slowly gained momentum until he was downright shoving whole macarons into his mouth without remorse, the ravenous look in his eyes made him look like Cream Lynx tearing into its prey. For every third or fourth photo he quaffed down milk from a large jug, beads of milk streaked down his face before being unceremoniously whipped away by the king’s forearm.

The final set was the smallest of the bunch. It showed Dark Cacao leaning back in his chair, a look of sheer regret and shame plastered on his face as he cleaned off crumbs from his face. Macaroni could see that Dark Cacao had actually undone his belt to make room for his slightly bloated stomach. In the very last photo he could see that the entire macaron tower had been picked clean of every single macaron, the only thing left was the transparent base of the tower.

Macaroni’s eyes widened with both awe and shock at the results of his wife’s investigation. The only word he was able to say in response to everything he’d just read was: “Wow.”

“Pretty impressive, eh? None of ‘em ever suspected that the jovial Miss Choco Ball was actually Professor Cheese Ball all along! Heck, I’m pretty sure they still don’t know it was me.” Cheese Ball proudly remarked. Secretly she wished she had actually come up with a better name for her alter ego rather than copy the name of the famous soccer player, but then again she did wait until the last minute to come up with a good name for the job… “Took a bit of persuasion, but I won both their hearts and their stomachs! They couldn’t get enough of my cooking!”

Cheese Ball sat on the bed as she put on her sleep cap before taking off her glasses. She then laid down next to her husband and planted a kiss on his cheek. He immediately pulled her closer and kissed hers before blowing a raspberry on her neck. She cackled as she attempted to squirm free from his grip, but only managed to give him more opportunity to hug her harder.

“NOOOOOO!!! M-Macaroni! STOP!!!” She pleaded, wrapping her arms around him and tickling his sides in retaliation. And now he was the one laughing hysterically too. This lasted for about five minutes until they both exhausted themselves and came to an unspoken truce. Cheese Ball panted as she snuggled up to Macaroni. “Okay, big boy. You win this round.”

“As always, dearest!” Macaroni proudly declared, wrapping his arm around her lower back and pulled her closer to plant another kiss on her lips. “I hope you don’t mind, but I somewhat overheard the stories you told Little Mac tonight and…I was wondering if you perhaps…based them on two certain individuals whomst you have slight tensions with?”

“Dark Cacao and Golden Cheese? Yes. Yes it is.” Cheese Ball flatly answered. “Came up with The Heartless King when I escaped the citadel and a group of kids captured me in the cave exit. The Golden Queen was…something I made up just now. What of ‘em, hon?”

“Well…I’m just a bit concerned about…the subject matter. I know you don’t necessarily like them or the group they’re a part of, but they’re still REAL cookies! One of which is to visit this kingdom any day now and…who you have deceived a month ago!”

Cheese Ball rolled her eyes and said: “Oh don’t worry ‘bout that big oaf! Dude’s not gonna care that I’m here; it was Miss Choco Ball that broke into the citadel, not me!”

“Yes, but you’re forgetting that our boy is the kind to parrot everything he hears especially if someone is interested in what he has to say. So…what do you think will happen if by some chance Mac N’ Cheese is to meet him and tell him the story and he starts to piece together that the story about an evil, sadistic king is about him?” Macaroni questioned, to which Cheese Ball almost deflated, but then she came up with another brilliant plan.

“Easy, Big guy! While King Grump Cacao’s staying here, we keep our sweet little cherub as far away from him as possible!” Cheese Ball declared, puffing her chest out in triumph. “Plus, Parfaedia has some pretty good pediatric therapists on hand so we don’t have to worry ‘bout any repercussions…maybe… hopefully.”

She slowly slunk back into bed as Macaroni turned off his side of the bed. In her eyes, her son was pure, he could do no wrong, but Macaroni was right, that boy couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. “It’s just a silly bedtime story, none of it was true!” she thought to herself “What’s the harm in that?”

What’s the harm in a story?

Yeah, things aren’t gonna go well for her…

#cookie run kingdom #crk #oc #cookie run #cr #cr kingdom #crk fanfic #dark cacao cookie #golden cheese cookie #crk ocs #mac n cheese cookie #cheese ball cookie #macaroni cookie

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lunar-wandering · 1 year

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Happy Salmon

A short lil LMK fic of just the gang having fun, because man, they deserve a break.

Summary: MK brings a new card game to game night.

Word Count: 1.5k

Read on Ao3

MK slapped the new game he had purchased earlier that day onto the table in the Noodle Shop. Everyone was sitting together, the Noodle Shop closed for this night's round of Family Game Night. Through a lot of bribing and convincing, Macaque, Wukong, and Red Son were joining them for the first time. They’d already played through some of their usual games, and aside from a couple small moments of laughter and over dramatics (when Macaque found out one game hinged on being able to tell who was lying and who was telling the truth, oh, he put his theatre voice on up to the NINES, speaking in the exact same overdramatic fashion at all times, making it impossible to tell if he was outright lying or simply overdramatizing the truth), but thus far, things hadn’t descended into true unrestrained chaos. Yet.

That was soon going to change.

As the others discussed how the past games had gone, MK sat in his chair and took out the game’s rule book to silently read through, knowing that so long as he read it at least once before reading it outloud to the others, he’d be able to articulate it in a way the others would better understand before they played their first practice round.

He didn’t even make it through reading the first sentence before he choked on his own spit, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“Ya alright, kid?” Pigsy asked, and MK held one hand over his mouth for a moment, in shock, processing, before holding back laughter as he set the rule book down on the table so that the others would be able to look and read it over his shoulder.

“Oh, I think we’re in for it.” MK snickered, pointing at the very first paragraph. “The very first line says ‘this game is best played when standing’.”

A near simultaneous “Oh- no.” went around the table, and MK laughed even harder when he read the next line.

“This game requires you to shout at all times-”

Another, more serious “Oh no.”, mostly said with humor, albeit there were a few looks at Macaque, to see what he thought about it. Noticing the looks, he simply shrugged, waving them away. He could deal with it, it would be fine.

MK, laughing the entire time, ran over the rest of the rules. Apparently, you needed to find someone who was shouting the same action card name as you, perform the action with them, and then discard the card from your personal deck as fast as possible by any means necessary, even if it meant throwing the card over your shoulder or to the floor. There were a total of four actions, high fives, fist bumps, a kinda secret handshake-esque thing where you each lightly slapped the other’s forearm, and- MK nearly wheezed before he read the next bit- swapping places with the other person.

The air was tinged with the anticipation of chaos as they all stood up, moving the chairs they had been sitting on out of the way as MK set out the proper amount of card decks on the table.

“Ok.” MK said, as everyone picked up their own deck. In all honesty, the game sounded simple enough, just find someone who matched what you were shouting and miming the action of, discard your card, and be the first person to get rid of all your cards. It probably wouldn’t take too long, nor be that hard. “Everybody ready?”

There was a series of nods around the table.

“Then three… two…. one…. go!!”

Almost instantly, it was like pure chaos had manifested itself into the room. It was nigh impossible to tell who was yelling what, and MK could barely breathe from the energy as everyone frantically exchanged high fives and fistbumps- MK caught Tang also shouting ‘Switch it up!’, and upon making sure they had locked eyes, both of them took off running to get to the other’s spot on the other side of the table. At the same time, Pigsy and Wukong did the same thing, MK and his mentor almost bumping into each other as they skidded into place, tossing their cards down at the same time. Macaque’s ears were pinned against the side of his head in response to the loud noise, but still even he was smiling and laughing like a maniac as he fist bumped with Mei.

They almost missed it when Red Son shouted that he had won, all his cards gone, it taking him repeating it a solid 3 times, as well as slamming his hands down on the table, before any of the others noticed.

Almost instantly, it was like a pressure had abated, as MK practically collapsed to the ground, holding onto the table with one hand as he struggled to regain his breath, feeling like he had just run an entire race, struggling to take deep breaths in and out around remnant laughter. Holy shit, that had been far more intense than he had thought it would be, and it wasn’t even like he’d done anything difficult!! A couple of the others were in the same state, Mei and Red Son shrugging off their jackets, knowing full well that, with this practice round as an example, they were likely going to end up working up a sweat as everyone decided that they simply had to do multiple more rounds. Macaque rubbed at his ears a little.

“Do you need some headphones, Macaque?” Mei asked, as she went through the process of picking up the cards that had been scattered haphazardly around the table, sorting them back into their own colour coded decks.

“Nah, I’m fine.” Macaque picked up the purple deck as soon as it was finished, absentmindedly shuffling it. “I know what I’m in for this time, chaos isn’t nearly as annoying or painful as the background noise of electric lights.”

“Cheers to that.” MK said, picking up the yellow deck as soon as it was ready. “Alright, everyone ready for round two?”

There was multiple sounds of agreement, and things readily fell into chaos once again.

Round’s 2 and 3 were much like the first, filled with chaos, and a cacophony of noise. The only real difference was that, when MK won in round 3, overwhelmed by the sheer energy the game had put into him, instead of yelling that he had won, he simply shrieked, which ended up being a lot louder and higher pitched than he had been expecting. He covered his mouth apologetically as the others winced, and Macaque covered his ears.

“...Sorry.” Macaque waved him off.

“‘S fine bud, just don’t do it again.”

It was round 6 when things started to go a little downhill.

“Switch it up!!” MK had yelled- looking around the table and straining to tell if anyone had the same action card as him- only to yelp as it suddenly felt like the floor gave out from under him as he plummeted down-

There was a flash of violet, and suddenly he was standing on the opposite side of the table from where he had been before, Macaque standing where MK had previously been.

Oh.

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play this, then.

Okay.

As soon as Macaque’s shadow-portalling had registered, it was instantly like all bets were off. Obviously, there wasn’t much that could be done in terms of the fist bumps and high fives… but the switch-it-ups were now a competition.

Red Son started using his fire teleportation- very nearly singeing Tang’s arm as he appeared right beside him, Tang only just barely managing to lean away in time. Both Mei and MK started using their enhanced speed to get around the table faster, very nearly hitting each other multiple times.

Wukong, unwilling to waste time with a backflip to summon his cloud, simply decided to outright vault over the table, sending cards flying everywhere with his action, and almost slamming into Macaque as he landed on the other side.

This went on for nearly 2 minutes- fire, green and yellow sparks, as well as purple shadows flickering around the room as the chaos unfolded.

It only stopped when both Wukong and Macaque threw their final cards down on the table and shouted “I win!!” at the exact same time.

Both monkeys immediately paused, before glaring at each other, fur standing on end in a way that MK mentally compared to two cats about to start a fight. Thankfully, they were spared from witnessing another monkey argument as Sandy spoke up.

“Uh, actually, I won about a minute or so ago- but you were all too distracted to notice.”

Everyone glanced over and, sure enough, there were no cards remaining in Sandy’s hands.

“I also think that, maybe, we should switch to a different game.” Sandy held up a nearly burnt card, using it as an example that had everyone visibly wincing. “Y’know, before we accidentally destroy Pigsy’s shop.”

…Okay, so maybe things had gotten a little out of hand.

…Happy Salmon quickly became regulated as a game to only be played outside, or in Wukong’s house.

#Monkie Kid #fanfic #my writing

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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wild one pt three | stranger things ; g.emerson

tag list || req rules + fandoms/characters ; reqs open! || got a req or a ? || masterlist

CHAPTERS ;

one + two can be found by clicking. stranger things masterlist can be found here.

AUTHORS NOTES;

This story it uh... kind of has me in a chokehold, idk. Anyway, this part came to me and I thought that it'd be interesting to write out (flirting / poolside vibes ftw) so here it is, I guess?

You guys make my day for even taking the time to read my bullshit/put up with it. You have no idea how much I enjoy the interaction and how much it keeps me going more than any of you realize. Huuuuge hugs and lots of love to everyone, no matter if you're just reading, or if you comment / reblog or reblog with tags or even just turn the heart red. It really means so much to me, I mean this.

SUMMARY;

-- cheerleaders and drummers don't mix... or do they?

aka reader is a cheerleader -and a bit of a bad girl sort, and catches the attention of a certain Corroded Coffin drummer. Hilarity + other stuff chaos, i mean chaos and maybe l-o-v-e ensues.

PAIRING;

Gareth Emerson x Fem!Reader ; reader is a cheerleader with female organs / born female. No other physical descriptors given aside from clothes and personality traits / interests.

WARNINGS;

jocks.. they are the warning. Andy -the jock, being creepy with the way he attempts to get readers attention. bloody nose/blood, swearing, vaguest hint of self esteem / body issues. A lil awkward kinda flirty / caring moment too.

TAGLIST;

@aurumbelis

@allelitesmut

@aries-arcade

@cole22ann

@hcloangcls

@heyaitsklaudia

@hoeshii

@icequeen1371

@krys-orion

@letsbedragonstogether

@louderfortheback

@musichealsscars

@scoobiessnacks

@secretsicanthideanymore

@suits-and-smirks

@untitledarea are the only people currently on my stranger things taglist. if you'd like to be added, please click the link at top of post.

OTHER STUFF;

Set in S4 but Upside Down + Vecna and the deaths do not occur, nor have they ever occurred. Starcourt still exists, nobody dies. This is slice of life / summer romance turned relationship type stuff, fyi. Gareth has been aged up to 18 for this, so everybody is of age.

The last place he wants to be is Hawkins pool, but here he is. If it weren’t for his little sisters, he’d avoid this place at all costs because it’s just one of quite a few places that he feels the most insecure about himself. He’d never say it, of course, but the fact remains.

Despite telling himself not to at least a thousand times, he’s scanning the area. You’re nowhere to be seen and he relaxes a little. If you’re not here, there’s no way he can make a bad situation worse, right?

But then he hears the squeak of the chain link gate over by the entrance and he hears the all-too familiar sound of your loud laughter. If he didn’t already know it by heart, his sister’s comment about the girl with pretty boots as she laughs and claps her hands together would’ve been enough to know you’re now present at the pool too.

You flop down into a lounge chair and throw your arm across your face dramatically.

“My legs, oh my god.” you whine out.

“Well, I mean.. You did try to maul Caroline Owens during practice, what’d you think would happen? You got laps.” Emma’s shaking her head as she starts to rub herself down with the suntan oil she’s brought along to tan. You hold up a middle finger wordlessly.

Emma notices Gareth in the kiddie end of the pool with his sisters again and nudges you. “Hey, it’s your drummer.”

“Em, he’s not my drummer. Stop. People don’t belong to other people.” you mumble the words with a wistful sigh, biting your lip as you watch him duck beneath the water and emerge, shaking his hair at his sisters, darting towards one and then the other, grabbing them both.

You tug off the oversized black t-shirt you’re wearing over your swimsuit and let it settle on the hot concrete.

There’s a neon pink float in the pool. “C’mon, Em.” you stand. She turns her nose up. “You can go right ahead. I came here to sit.”

“Fine. Sit up here and roast to death. I’m going up on the high dive. Then I’m gonna float in the water.”

“Are you sure about that? What happened to woe is me, if I’m within a foot of him I’ll make an ass of myself.”

“It’s too fucking hot to care today, alright? Besides.. If I’m floating,” you nod to the float, “there’s not much of a chance of that.”

And Emma could’ve pointed out several scenarios, but she keeps quiet. You slink over to the high dive and start to climb. Emma happens to gaze over at the shallow end just in time to see Gareth staring up at you as you go into a handstand.

“Okay, show off. Dive already.” Emma calls up to you, rolling her eyes when you go into a split before standing right side up again. You dive off the board, tucking your knees. Sending up a big enough splash of water that it soaks Emma who flips you off when you pull yourself up off the side of the pool to shake your wet hair at her and get her even wetter. “You looked like you needed a cool down.”

“I’m shoving your ass into that water.” Emma stands, a playful gleam in her eyes. You wink at her and lower yourself back down into the water, grabbing the forgotten neon pink float as you pull yourself onto it, sprawling lazily.

Gareth is trying not to stare, he really is, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t stop himself. The sun glints off of a necklace around your neck and he squints to get a closer look. Chuckling to himself when he sees that the pendant on the chain around your neck is a little knife.

His sister scrambles up onto his back and he dunks her in the water.

You’re floating all around the pool, having dozed off. Andy and Jason make their way in with Patrick in tow. Patrick makes a beeline for Emma and takes the lounge chair you’ve vacated.

But Andy’s sitting on the edge of the pool when you happen to float past, inching towards the deep end. The end you avoid whenever you’re in the pool because you’re not a very strong swimmer and you hate water over your head.

He reaches out and touches your leg and this is what has you scrambling to sit which dumps you off the cheap plastic float. And you shriek when your toes don’t touch.

Before he really stops to think about it, while Andy’s too busy making a show out of taking off his shirt and yelling at you to stay calm and stay put, Gareth swims out, grabbing you by the hips. You wind up pressed against him and he wades back over to the middle of the pool where your toes touch.

Your brain doesn’t compute that maybe it’s a good idea to let go of your death grip on Gareth’s neck or maybe untangle your legs from his waist until you’ve calmed down and you immediately do that. Swallowing down a lump in your throat as you hurry to climb the ladder and get out of the pool, wrapping that red towel with the white Playboy logo around yourself.

“I’m sorry, I..” Andy’s apologizing but there’s a gleam in his eyes that indicates he clearly doesn’t mean the apology. So you shrug it off and when Andy’s standing right beside the edge, you reach out and shove him in. A mocked apologetic smile playing at your lips as you call out, “So sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, I swear.”

“Bitch.” Andy swears to himself, but Gareth hears.

“You’re the asshole that just tried to drown her...” Gareth mutters, assuming it’s to himself and not counting on Andy hearing it.

Andy stands taller, trying to make him tower over Gareth but they’re almost the same height so he just looks like an ass when he tries it. Gareth stares him down, arms folded over his chest. “Do it again, asshole.” Andy steps up and chuckles quietly, “What are you gonna do, freak? Huh? C’mon, pussy.”

Gareth just smirks. “Try and see.” and there’s something about the deathly calm when he says it that has Andy doing a double take. Gareth lunges just a little and Andy steps back. “Don’t think you want your little sisters to see you get your ass beaten, Emerson.”

“You’re lucky they’re here right now.” Gareth responds. Andy shoves at him and smirks. “She’s gonna end up with me.”

“She hasn’t yet.” Gareth replies, shrugging. “She hates you. Kind of amusing you think so.”

Andy’s just about to grab Gareth but you happen to look up and over just in time to see what’s going on.

You grumble to yourself and pick up the foam football discarded by either Andy or Jason when they first got to the pool earlier and you don’t think, you just aim. Straight for Andy’s face. The purple foam ball spirals off your hands easily, and you smirk the instant it makes contact with Andy’s nose. Your only regret is that it’s not an actual football, so it doesn’t pack the sting you’d have liked.

“Fuck off, Andy. I’m not kidding. Leave ‘im alone.” you call out, a hand on your hip before you reach down and tug the oversized black shirt on. “Next time it’s not gonna be your nose, shitbird..” you say it to Andy with the sweetest smile, a hand in your hair before storming away.

Emma’s glaring back at Andy in disbelief as she catches up to you when you make your way over to the vending machine. “That stupid prick, what’d he think? He’d save you and you’d repay him with a roll in the backseat? And then he’s too busy with theatrics to actually follow through?Fucking caveman.”

You glance back to see Andy glaring daggers at Gareth across the pool and you nudge Emma who follows your gaze. “Look at the pathetic asshole. He literally just tried to drown me to get my attention like… how the hell did he think that would work anyway?” you roll your eyes and flip Andy off when he catches sight of you and is quick to back away like you didn’t just see him glaring a hole through Gareth Emerson’s turned back, you shake your head, “What he doesn’t realize is that I’d literally pick Gareth Emerson any day of the week before Andy ever even gets within an inch of me.” you’re ranting and Emma’s laughing, “I mean that. The only thing that stops me from going for it is the fact that literally if I even breathe near the man I somehow manage to fuck something up and annoy him worse.” you go quiet after saying it.

What you don’t realize is that this has just been overheard by Jeff, who happens to walk through the gate nearby, out of sight but within earshot.

Andy’s holding his t-shirt to his nose and Jeff’s trying to figure out what’s going on when he hears you admit to Emma what he kind of figured all along. And he’s tempted to tell Gareth, he’ll probably try to later, but he knows that nine out of ten, Gareth Emerson won’t believe him. So instead, he files it away. And he makes his way over, nodding to Andy who is fuming out loud to anybody who will listen about you being a bitch.

“What happened, Gare?” Jeff asks, glancing at Andy, who is holding his t-shirt to his bleeding nose.

“Andy tried to drown her, that’s what. He flipped her off that float in the water. In the deep end.” Gareth’s hand is clenched into a fist as he keeps a close eye on his little sisters who are still out in the kiddie end of the pool. “Then the fucking idiot was too busy making a show out of it to grab her. I did though.”

Jeff chuckles. “How’d his nose get busted then?”

Gareth is quick to tell him, “Wasn’t me, man. Not this time. My sisters are here.” and he nods in your direction. “She threw a football straight into it.”

Jeff snickers. “Yeah, I can’t say I blame her.”

You walk back, right past the chairs taken up by Jeff and Gareth and you flop down into the one just down from Gareth’s. Emma sits down beside you and dangles her legs in the pool water as she looks back at you. “You’re gonna burn.” she’s biting her lip, gazing at your already angry red skin in friendly concern.

“I’ll live.” you wave it off.

“You’re already red as your swimsuit, trouble.”

“Mhm.” you answer, eyes fluttering shut as you raise an arm and let it settle over your eyes.

You manage to doze off when Emma leaves with Patrick, only to be tapped gingerly on the shoulder and you wince at the jab. You raise your head and find yourself looking right up at Gareth through a curtain of dampened hair. “Sorry.. About earlier.” you mumble the words in this sleepy little voice that has him fighting to breathe and goes straight to his cock. He shrugs. “Wasn’t gonna let you drown.”

“Yeah, you’re a good person, unlike some assholes who think attempted murder is flirting, apparently.” your gaze flits to Andy as you say it and you catch him watching you both like a hawk. Jeff is out in the water with Gareth’s little sisters playing. You roll your eyes at Andy and grumble quietly, “If he keeps staring over here I’m going to choke him.”

Gareth clears his throat.

He’s about half talked himself out of the reason why he walked over to begin with and all he’s doing right now is staring. He can’t help it, he can’t stop himself because he’s tried and failed too many times to count.

“You’re really burnt.” he nods to your shoulders and you look at them and cringe. “Emma did try to warn me.”

“Do you, uh..” Gareth fumbles for his words, “Do you have sunblock?”

You can’t stop staring at his lips like an idiot. So he repeats the question and you feel yourself heat up all over as you reach down and pick up the bottle of sunblock, holding it out.

He freezes and you assume it’s so you’ll sit up, so you pull yourself to a sitting position, back facing him as you move damp hair away from your back. Blue eyes flit over the scattered freckles and moles against your skin and he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his face to pull himself together. Then he squeezes the bottle and rubs his hands together.

You gasp when the liquid makes contact with your back because it’s cooler than you expected. You don’t mean to but the more Gareth’s hands work over your shoulders and down your back, the more you find yourself melting. It’s not long til you have to grip the handle on the lounge chair. He reaches around and holds the bottle out to you and you take it, forced to take a few seconds before you can turn around to face him.

You’re surprised he’s still sitting on the lounge chair near you.

Gareth is frozen in place. Brain telling him he should be getting up and walking away now, but he just can’t.

Jeff wanders up, clearing his throat and he almost feels bad about it when you both jump and spring apart, but he didn’t want Gareth to freak out when he looked over and figured out Jeff and his sisters weren’t in the pool anymore.

“I’m gonna take your sisters to get ice cream.”

Gareth stands. “Hang on.”

Jeff nods to you while you’re fumbling with the black Walkman in your hands and Gareth shakes his head firmly, standing. As soon as they’re both out of the gate, Jeff looks at him and shakes his head. “I was doing that for you, idiot.”

“Why though?” Gareth is gazing at him with a hand in his hair, tugging at drying curls. “All I was doing was keepin her from getting third degree burned.”

“Mhm. Right.” Jeff taunts him and Gareth grumbles, flipping him off.

“Y’know nothing’s ever gonna come of it, Jeff.” Gareth grumbles again and Jeff chuckles, remembering what he overheard you say out of your own mouth to your best friend Emma when he arrived at the pool earlier.

But he doesn’t say it because Gareth won’t ever believe him.

Guy has himself convinced that you two wouldn’t ever work out or that somehow, you’d never pick him on your own. And honestly, Jeff wants to choke some sense into his best friend for it.

But, he can look at Gareth and tell that it’s getting harder to stay away. So he thinks that maybe if he just steps back and lets things happen on their own, maybe it’ll be better that way.

“What?”

“Nothin, buddy. Do you want anything? I got paid earlier. You bought it last time, it’s my turn.” Jeff replies.

Gareth is distracted though, because you’re walking through the parking lot, heading over to your car with a Tootsie pop in your mouth.

The rumble of the engine fills the afternoon and the car takes off, screeching tires and Metallica playing loud enough to deafen a person and Jeff glances at Gareth, who is watching your car as it disappears into the street and then he laughs.

#gareth emerson #gareth emerson imagine #gareth the great #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #// do not worry. he will be getting his hands on Andy. a lil retribution for that bullshit that happened on the show tbh.

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