#unexpected red hair (both parents and their parents have brown hair)

[gejo333]

Unexpected Match VII

DILF/DBF Miguel O’Hara x Female Reader

Pt. 1 Pt.8

18+ Warning!!

Summary: You and the O’Hara’s go away on a small family vacation upstate.

We’re back!!!

Happy to have another chapter out! Next one is going to have a lot of drama! I apologize for any grammar mistakes, I haven’t fully looked this over yet. But I hope you enjoy!

Wc: 5.2k

————————————————————————

The fall crisp air was becoming a winter chill as you gaze at the golden leaves falling from the trees. You turn your head towards the left as you smile softly at the curly brunette man. Miguel's phone buzzed, a photo of you carrying Gabi as you both smiled at the camera from one of the many days you had gone to the park. A small smile crept on to your face as you hadn't noticed he changed his Home Screen from the photo he's kept of baby Gabi on his phone since you first met him.

You turned your head and smiled at the adorable sight of a sleeping Gabi, as her head rested against her car seat. Suddenly, the thought of another car seat next to Gabi crossed your mind. Sudden realization of your thoughts made your cheeks red. You smiled as giving a few siblings for Gabi after your career is steady would be nice.

Miguel drove the car into the entrance of the family campsite. Two weeks ago Gabi had brought up that every year they leave the city to do a weekend camping trip at a family camp, where Gabi explained that there's a bunch of fun activities to do at the kid center. You were really happy when both Miguel and Gabi wanted you to come with them. You knew you lived with them for a few months now and felt like a family, the impending conversation with your parents has created some stupid insecurities to pop in your mind. But every time the thoughts pop up your happily reminded of Gabi's joyous laughter and Miguel's loving words, that you wouldn't change anything for this in the world.

"We're here." Miguel parked the car as you both got out. You went around the car and opened it up to Gabi's side. You unbuckled her from her car seat.

"Hey, baby bug. It's time to wake up. We're here." You said softly as you gently brushed some of the hair sticking out of her pony tail behind her ear. Your heart melted at the sight of her yawning and rubbing her eyes of any sleep before you saw her bright brown eyes. You helped her out of her seat as she was still trying to wake up. As soon as she got a look of her surroundings she perked up instantly.

"Yay! We're here!" Gabi ran on to the grass next to the parking lot.

"Please stay close Gabi, while your papa and I unload the car." You say smiling at her happy attitude as you watch her play around in the grass.

"Will do!" She said looking at you with one of the iconic O'Hara smiles.

You heart almost stopped as an arm wrapped around your waist and whisked you behind the car to the open trunk before being slightly dipped and kissed. You happily returned the kiss as your arms wrap around his neck to deepen it. The kiss ended with another quick kiss or two, as he stood you up straight but still wrapped in each others arms.

"Loved that. But what was it for?" You chuckle as you brush strands of his hair back in his iconic hair style.

"I'm just really happy. Ever since I saw you again, I just never felt this happy before. Of course I was really happy when it was just Gabi and I, but I just feel complete now that I have the two most important girls in my life."

"I've never been more happy being with you and Gabi. The perfect small family bubble." You press one more kiss to his lips before you untangle from each other and begin to unpack.

"Maybe our family bubble can grow bigger one day." Said Miguel as he took a cooler and set in on the ground. Your eyes widen from his comment.

"Doesn't sound like a bad idea. But maybe after putting a ring on this finger." You chuckle as you tease him.

"Sounds like a good idea. I'll keep it in mind."

"Wait...are you saying you might propose one day?" You paused when you heard his response.

"Yes." He smiled as he took something else from the trunk out. Your heart briefly stopped from his response. You smiled as you went on your toes to kiss his cheek.

"Sounds like a good idea." You say as you grab the last thing from the trunk and set it down before Miguel closes it and locks the car.

"Princesa, we're heading to the cabin." Said Miguel as he picked up majority of the things with out breaking a sweat as you helped carry the last two bags.

"Okay!" Gabi ran over to you both as she skipped slightly ahead, stopping and turning to make sure you and Miguel were still following her.

A few minutes later you made it to the cabin.

You were stunned when you saw it. It wasn't just a simple cabin, but a large two floor cabin with a double door entrance. You realized this family camping site wasn't your run of the mill place. It must have cost a lot to stay here.

When Miguel opened the door and the three of you entered you were even more amazed by the interior design. It was as if the wood cabin was made for the heavens.

"Papa! Can we go to the kid center?" Gabi said from the stairs.

"I'm sorry princesa. We arrived pretty late. Everyone's probably back with their families having dinner. But I promise we'll take you first thing tomorrow." Miguel said as he set down everything in the entryway next to the things you brought in.

"Ok, papa." You saw the disappointment in her eyes despite her trying to hide it, which stung you heart.

"Hey Gabi. Have you ever made a fairy house before?" You say as you begin to unpack things like Miguel and put them in the right places.

"No, what's that." Gabi's interest peaked from your words, districting her from her sadness.

"Well, when I was little and use to go camping, my grandmother told me that fairies lived in the forests all around and that not all of them have homes. So with my brothers and grandmother we would find sticks, leaves, and acorn caps and build tiny houses for the fairies to live in."

"Really! Can we build one?" Gabi's eyes sparkled from your small story as she ran towards you from the stairs.

"Of course! We can build one right outside the cabin. But let's help finish unpacking with Papa and then we can build it."

Miguel smiled as he watched you and Gabi from the window building a tiny fairy house on the side of the giant tree a few feet from the cabin. His heart swelled every time you glanced over and smiled at him. Everytime he saw you it felt like he was falling for you all over again.

20 minutes later Gabi ran back into the cabin calling for Miguel to come outside to see the fairy house. "Alright mija, I'm coming." Miguel chuckled as he was led outside by his overly excited daughter. Stoping right in front Gabi, crouched on her knees as you stood up and Miguel wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you to his side as he kiss the top of you head.

"Look what me and Y/n built! This is where the fairies can get their mail from their friends. Look! Y/n made a roof that can be removed, so we can check on the fairies. here is the bedroom. There are two beds so that the fairy can have a sleep over with her friends. This is the dinning room where they eat. And here is a tiny toilet too!" Gabi giggled from her last sentence which melted both of your hearts. "How will we know they came?" Added Gabi as she looked up at you.

"When you see fairy dust scattered around the house, that means they were here."You words made Gabi's eyes light up as she got up and gave you and Miguel a hug together. With ease Miguel picked up Gabi with on arm as he directed you both back into the cabin for dinner.

After dinner and more chatter about the fairies, a yawning Gabi indicated that it was time to go to bed. Miguel picked her up as you turned off all the lights downstairs before all three of you made it up stairs where you entered the first bedroom. Already in her pjs you and Miguel tucked her into bed before saying good night. "Y/n?"

"Yes my baby bug?"

"Can we check the fairy house tomorrow morning?"

"Of course we can. Good night sweetheart. Have sweet dreams." You and Miguel both leave, closing her door before heading down the hall and around the corner to the master bedroom.

As you entered the room you gasped when you felt arms lift you up in a bridal position as Miguel carried you to the bed, laying you down on it.

"Miguel we have to get out of our clothes." You giggle as he wouldn't let you out of his hold. You turn to face him, already meet his gaze on you.

"Te amo, hermosa." Miguel brushed some strands of your hair behind your ear before leaning down to capture your lips, which you melted into. The kiss continued into a loving make out session. Lips on lips or on skin.

In a slight daze you somehow straddled his lap as you continue the semi-heated session. You give him on last kiss on the lips before siting up, still on top of him. You felt a starting erection poke your thigh as you straddle, his hand on your waist as he lightly moved your hips on him.

A mischievous thought popped up in your head. You were curious how much and how long you could tease him before you got in trouble. Last time you made him sexually frustrated you didn't get a wink of sleep all night and sore the for the rest of the week.

You moved your hips a little bit more, earning a small groan from his lips as you felt his erection grow, making you slip out a small moan. You continue like this for a little more before you unstraddle him and get off the bed.

"Cariño, come back here." Miguel huffed as he gave you a light glare for getting off him in the middle.

"Mhmm nope." You try to hid your smile as you begin to undress.

"Y/n, I'm warning you. Come back over here." Miguel's gaze scanned up  your body as you were only left in a matching pair of white lace underwear.

"Please, mi amor." You smiled when you saw his slight bothered state as you turned around to walk into the master bathroom to remove your makeup. Even before you could get your makeup remover you heard footsteps came your way before you could turn around you were thrown over Miguel's bare shoulder "Miguel." You chuckled as he carried you back to the bed where he gently threw you on on to your stomach. Miguel got behind you, before leaning over to whisper in to your ear.

"You know better than to test me, hermosa."

You wake up the next morning, feeling sore between your legs. You sit up, still groggy as you look outside the window to the beautiful view. You feel arms wrap tighter around your waist. Turning to look the the man next to you, you smile down at him as he places kisses up your side to your neck as he sat up next to you.

"Good morning."

"Good morning, mi amor. How did you sleep?" He smirked as you gave him an slightly annoyed look, before wiping it away with a kiss to your lips.

"I slept well. Luckily you were tired from driving up here. Or I think I wouldn't be able to walk today."

"Well, I would have gone easier if you didn't tease me like that." Miguel moved your legs to lay over his lap, lifting you to sit on his lap as he

leaned back on the bed frame. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you placed a kiss on his lips again. "I was thinking, after dropping Gabi off at the kid center that we go on a hike." Miguel said.

"Sounds perfect."

"Good. Make sure to wear a bathing suit."

"Ooo, ok. I can't wait." After relaxing in comfortable silence, being in each others arms more than enough you both take a shower, Miguel needing to carrying you as your legs were too sore to walk.

After getting dressed you both go downstairs where you both made breakfast together you noticed that little O'Hara was still upstairs asleep. Miguel went up to go wake her up and a couple minutes later he carried her down the stairs towards the kitchen.

"Good morning baby bug. How did you sleep?" You say as you place a kiss to the top of her head and placing a plate of scrambled eggs, sausage, and fruit in front of her.

"Good! Can we check the fairy house?" Pleaded Gabi.

"How about you eat your breakfast and then we can go check." Said Miguel as he passed you a cup of coffee, which you happily took.

"Ok!" Gabi began to eat her food fast.

"Gabi, don't rush eating. You can choke. Please eat slower." You worried.

"But what if the fairies are gone by the time I'm done?"

"Fairies wake up super early to go to work, so we won't see them sadly. But, I'm very sure they were there." You added.

After Gabi properly ate her food you helped her put on her shoes before the three of you walked outside into the fresh morning air. Gabi ran to the fairy house and took off the roof, a gasp leaving her before she jumped up and down with a wide smile on her face.

"They were here! They were here! Look! There's fairy dust! And the bed was used. And look! They left some food on the table!" Gabi pointed out with a big smile on her face.

"Wow, that's so cool." Miguel brought you close and kissed the side of your head, before whispering a thank you.

"Alright Princesa. Let's gets you ready so we can take you to the kid center." Said Miguel, which Gabi happily ran back into the house.

You helped put on Gabi's shoes as the two of you waited for Miguel. However, he came down the stairs on the phone, and annoyed look on his face. You give him a worried look for seeing him stressed. He walked over to you saying, "Peter, you know that I'm with my family upstate. What's happening?" His brows furrowed as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his hand, clearly frustrated by whatever was being said to him. You placed your hand in his empty one, giving him a gently squeeze to get his attention.

"One moment Peter. Are you ok, hermosa?" His looked quickly became soft and loving when his attention was on you.

"Gabi's getting a bit impatient to go to the kid center. I was offering to walk her over and get her settled there." You smile up at him.

"That would be great, thank you." Miguel placed a quick kiss to your lips and then a kiss to the top of Gabi's head before he went back on the call.

You and Gabi walked out of the Cabin, and following the signs walking over to the kid center.

"Y/n? Why isn't Papa coming with us?"

"He had to take an quick emergency call with work."

"Oh. That happens sometimes. Papa sometimes can't stop work from taking up all his time. But ever since you moved in he's been a lot better, which makes me really happy because I get to spend even more time with Papa." Gabi smiled up at you as she continued to hold your hand, walking to the kid center.

"That makes me happy that I was able to help."

"Papa loves you a lot. Like a lot. But I win, cause I love you most!"

"I love you the most too Gabi." You stop as you kneel down and pull her into a hug, which she happily accepts.

A few minutes passed by and you and Gabi made it to the kid center. As you entered the building you walked up to the front where a camp counselor of sorts greeted you with a warm smile.

"Good morning! Welcome to the kid center. Are you here to go on super cool adventures?" The camp counselor said as she looked at Gabi.

"Yeah!" Gabi smiled.

"Perfect! And what's your first and last name?"

"Gabi O'Hara."

"Welcome Ms. O'Hara. Let me talk to your mom and have her fill out a few forms for you and then you can join the rest of the kids." Your eyes widen slightly when you were mentioned as Gabi's mom. You didn't want to correct the women as Gabi didn't seem bothered by the mistake. And in  truth, you were bothered by it either. You did love Gabi as your daughter, even though you knew you aren't her biological mother. You hoped maybe she saw you at a mother figure.

After reading over the permission slip forms and signing them you handed them back to the woman.

"Perfect. Ok, Gabi, you can follow me."

You kneel down as Gabi gives you a hug.

"Papa and I will pick you up in a few hours. Have fun." You give her one last hug before she waves goodbye and walks with the camp counselor to the main area.

As you walked back towards the Cabin you felt like something was off. You felt the hair on your neck stand up. As if someone was watching you. Just to satisfy your nerves your turn back to see no one. You shrug if off, obviously you needed more coffee. You picked up the pace as the feeling wouldn't go away, as you sped walked all the way back to the Cabin, where you quickly unlocked the door and closed it behind you before locking it again. You look out the window to see a woman walk by. You didn't recall her walking behind you. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Your stomach dropped when you felt arms wrap around you, making you jump.

"Lo siento, cariño. I didn't mean to scare you. Y/n? Is everything ok?" Miguel asked, concern etched in his voice as he gave you a worried look.

"I'm fine. I just felt a bit off on my walk back. For some reason I thought someone was following me on my way back. But I think it was just my mind playing tricks on me." Your words didn't reassure your boyfriend as he opened the door to scan the area. He closed the door as he kept you in his arms to help calm your nerves.

"Would you like to stay in the cabin? We can watch a movie in the bedroom or living room."

Miguel offered.

"no, let's go on our hike. It'll be nice to enjoy nature. Plus, my big strong boyfriend can help protect me." You dramatically bat your eyelashes as you wrap your arms around one of his biceps, to which he chuckled as he took your chin and kissed you. "I'll make sure to protect you, mi amor."

You both changed into clothes to go on a nice walk as you both walked outside and begin your walk. You took Miguel's hand in yours to which he smiled leaned down and kissed you lovingly before you started your walk.

Ten minutes into the hike, was comfortable silence until Miguel decided to speak. "I've taken this hike once before. And I found something, which will be a surprise until we get there." Miguel grinned as he saw the pout on your face before you replaced it with a smile. "Well I can't wait to see what it is."

"I think I'm going to tell my parents at the Christmas party." You add which Miguel gave you a soft and warm smile. "I'll be there for you. Let's hope they take it well."

"I'm hoping so. But since it's a week away, I know it might be a lot, but I think we should have a plan in case it goes south."

"Like what?" Miguel's breath held waiting to your your words.

"Well, if they don't take it well they'll probably get upset and say things they'll regret. Maybe you take Gabi back home. I don't her having to experience anything bad, especially around Christmas."

"Y/n, I really want to be right with you. It's about us. I'm not going to leave you if it goes south." Miguel gives you a serious look, you sigh knowing he wouldn't let you do it by your self.

"I don't want Gabi to witness anything bad."

"And she won't. If it goes south we'll just leave. And to not be bothered, we'll spend Christmas in the city."

"The city? Where?"

"At my apartment. The one Gabi and I moved from to here. We left almost everything besides essentials. I'll have a Christmas tree delivered and set up."

"Well, that sounds like a plan. I hope it goes well. But honestly, I don't care what they think. I'll just be relieved to finally be able to show my love for you anywhere." You stopped, Miguel following right after as he smiled and brought you close to him as you both looked at each other in perfect silence.

"I can't wait to tell the world how much I love you."

You walk hand in hand in a comfortable silence, only talking when either of you point out something beautiful or interesting. Enjoying the walk, you didn't realize how far you walked until Miguel stopped.

"Close your eyes. Your surprise awaits." Miguel grinned. You smiled as you closed your eyes, before Miguel placed an arm around your waist and pulled you close so you he could guide you. After a minute you heard the thunderous sound of rushing water. Miguel stopped as leaned down lips against your ear as he said, "you can open your eyes now."

When you open your eyes, they widened, amazed by the gorgeous waterfall and swimming hole. The water was a beautiful crystal blue, something you though you would never see so up north.

"It's so beautiful. Thank you for showing this place to me." You turn to face Miguel as you give him a hug and kiss to the lips, thanking him for the surprise.

"I'm glad you love it, hermosa. Would you like to take a swim?" Miguel grinned after he saw you nod and smile.

"One little problem though."

"And what's that?"

"I forgot to wear a bikini. Guess I only have my birthday suit to wear." You giggle as you see lust cloud Miguel's eyes. You step away from him as you begin to shed your clothing. Only left in your panties you slipped them off before tossing them into the pile. You then walk into the water, relieved that it was warm, going in until your chest deep. You turn to face Miguel who was still on the shoreline, now removing his boxers, as his erect cock bounced out, relieved to be free from its restraints.

He walks into the water before making it right in front of you. You knew there was a stark height difference between you both, but standing at the same level of water, where your chest deep and his was still above made you even more self aware of it. Holding your waist and pulling you against him you feel his erection against your stomach, making your cheeks slightly red. Miguel leans down capturing your lips wis his. Not long were the kisses becoming more intense, as he moved his lips from you chin to your neck where he found that sweet spot. A moan escapes your lips as Miguel's hand move from your waist down to your thighs, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck for stability. A moan by you and a groan from Miguel came when he sunk you down onto his cock. Although you were plenty wet from the water, the lack of prep made you tighten around him, earning another groan from him.

"Hermosa, you have to loosen up a bit or I won't last much longer."

You moaned out loud as you tried to adjust to his size. As soon as he felt you were relaxed, he began to ram his hips up into you, You were in slight pain, but it didn't bother you as you were overcome with pleasure. As one of his hands held your hips in place, the other began to play with one of your breasts as he used his fingers to play with your nipple, making you gasp.

You lower your hand to your clit to help relieve some of your arousal. However, as soon as your fingers touched your sensitive area, Miguel snatched your wrist and moved it to your side as you groaned in frustration.

"Miguel." You whine as you lay your head back against his shoulder.

"Sorry, cariño. Not going happen yet. You just have to sit here and take my cock in this pretty little pussy of yours." Miguel whispered in your ear before kissing and marking up along your neck.

Your lips connect into a heated kiss. The water splashes around from the movement of both your bodies.

"This take me back to the time we first met. In that private pool back in Miami."

"At least now I know your mine and that this won't end tomorrow." Miguel said as he smiled against your lips before kissing you again.

"Please touch me Miggy."

"What was that hermosa?" Miguel chuckled as your rolled your eyes.

"Please Miguel."

" As you wish." Miguel lowered his hand as he began to rub your clit. A moan escapes you as you arch your chest against his.

"Cum for me." He whispered as your eyes rolled back from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body as you came from your high.

Miguel groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. "You always feel so good, mi amor, I never want to leave." Miguel bucked his hips into you one last time before you felt him spill deep inside you. Miguel rode out his high before he removed himself from you, capturing your lips one last time.

Miguel found a place in the water to rest against as you both relaxed in the warm water basking in the beauty of your surroundings. After some time you both decided you needed to head back to take a shower and get changed before picking up Gabi at the kid center.

Getting dressed you walked hand in hand back to the cabin, where your both got in the shower to save time, and to maybe have another quick session before washing off and getting ready.

You both head and walk towards the kid center as you wrap yours arms around Miguel's bicep, to which he places a kiss to your cheek saying, “ I love you.” As you look up to him with a loving smile replying, “I love you more.”

When you arrive to the kid center you see other parents picking up their kids, walking in you see Gabi talking with a few other girls before spotting you and Miguel. She waved goodbye before running into your arms, as you pick her up.

“How was your day?”

“It was amazing! We played games in the grassy field, and we made s’mores. I ate two. And I told my friends that we built a fairy house, and that a fairy stayed there over night. They thought that was really cool.”

“Two smores! Are you going to be able to have one tonight?” Miguel said making Gabi’s eyes widen.

“Yes! I can still have more! I’m not full.”

“Ok princesa. I’ll trust you on this one. Let’s go sign you out.” As you carry Gabi you and Miguel walk to the camp counselor you talked to this morning.

“Hi Mr. And Mrs. O’Hara. Gabi had a really fun day. She told us about how she built a fairy house with her mom. Everyone loved it they were all built them too. And might make it a fun activity to do at the kid center.” Your eyes widen, when she mentioned you again being Gabi’s mom. It melted your heart to think that Gabi called you her mom to other kids. You wondered if she was too shy to call you mom. Maybe because you only have been living with them for almost 4 months. You glanced at Miguel when the counselor made the mistake, but you noticed his smile only widened by the comment.

After signing Gabi out, you set her down and she wanted to hold both your and Miguel’s hand as you walked back to the cabin, where Miguel decided to start making dinner while you helped Gabi wash up and change her clothes.

After dinner Miguel received a call and took it in the living room when you took all the dishes and began to wash them in the kitchen. You heard him end the call before turning on the cartoons on the tv for Gabi to watch before you heard his footsteps walk into the kitchen.

“Do you need any help with the dishes?”

“Nope, just have this last plate. Then I’m done.”

“The person I was on the phone with was real estate agent. I bought this cabin.” He said.

Your eyes widened turning to him. “That’s amazing. I thought this place was a campsite?”

“It is. But you can buy the properties and some of the land around it so we can expand it. It’s just been an amazing time up here this time around, and I want to make it an official tradition to come up here. Like a family place away from the hustle and bustle of Nueva York and the prying eyes of our neighborhood.”

“I think that a great idea. It’s so beautiful up here. It definitely is a nice place to go to get away from everything and everybody.”

“I think we should tell Gabi on Christmas. It’ll be one of her gifts. A gift for all of us.” Miguel smiles.

After you finish cleaning up the kitchen you spend the rest of the night watching a family movie, as you cozy up with Miguel on the couch with Gabi on his other side.

The next morning you all woke up early to pack and put everything in the car before driving back home. While packing things into the car with Miguel you felt that familiar off feeling, like someone was watching you. You decided not to bring it up to Miguel this time, not wanting to worry him as you thought it might have been your imagination.

As everyone got in the car and drove away, unnoticed by either you nor Miguel were brown eyes in another car nearby watching from afar.

————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed it!💕

Tag List

@felixthemochicat @pedr0swh0r3 @thel0velykey190 @myownsimp @angel-xx-1 @thedevax @cheezit-luv3rr @comicalbliss @rjreins @incustellar @ricekrisbris @marvelofcourse @ozzmodeus-main @s0fia4 @ghost-lantern @minalovesubabes @yume904 @shinyberry69 @freehentai @livytofine @rjasmine2021 @bigbassbug @tired-writer04 @brokvnszn @isastarall @eddiestitmiguelsbigdick @cold-blooded-girls @ewan-tef @bammzyboomy @icedcoffeeisyummy @scaleniusrm @jojos-wife @jakelockleysdoll @iheartlinds @koteri @montyrokz @crimsonriot06-7 @p1nkliquor @pueduricany @l3laze @freeingrebels @facelessfionna @zoey5252 @jaxyy219 @pookiesnatcher @deputy-videogamer @migueloharastruelove @gr0vndz3ro @n1tingal3 @casuallyawkardd

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel x reader #oneshot #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x y/n #oneshot requests #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara fic #miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara smut #father miguel o’hara

[crazy-ache]

Jane Austen's most romantic letter, if it had been written by Lucien Vanserra (Persuasion x Elucien)

Or what would happen if Lucien overheard Elain have a conversation about the bond? And what if he wrote a gut-wrenching love confession in said letter? Inspired by literature's most infamously romantic letter ever written.

Some text is directly taken from Chapter 23 of Persuasion by Jane Austen.

"We will write the letter to Helion we were talking of, Rhysand, now, if you will give me materials."

Materials were at hand, on a separate table; Lucien went to it, and nearly turning his back to the rest of the Inner Circle, was engrossed by writing.

Elain eyed him carefully, studying the leather strap that held back his long, molten red hair. Clearing her throat, she found Nesta across the room by the open window of the parlor as they were both on the outskirts of the Inner Circle’s political discussions. It was a respectable distance from where Lucien was writing at the desk, although still somewhat nearby. 

“I have a question for you,” Nesta turned to her younger sister, face like stone. “One that I have been thinking about for some time. What do you think our parents would have thought about the mating bond?” 

With wide, brown eyes Elain sucked in her breath. It was an unexpected question, but also a familiar one. For her thoughts had circled the very same doubts and insecurities that plagued her sister. “Well,” Elain wrung her hands nervously. “Mother would have adored Feyre’s, being mated to a High Lord after all. But if she didn’t like the outcome, she would have demanded a way to break it or alter it for her own advantage.” 

Nesta’s wicked grin revealed an agreement, knowing full well their mother would have been furious at her marriage and bond with an Illyrian general, and her matching status as a Valkyrie now. 

“As for father, well, I suppose, based on what he discussed with me in the past—there is a small chance he would have been disappointed.” Her voice dropped in both volume and confidence, barely escaping as a whisper passed her lips. As if she was instinctually afraid someone would hear, perhaps someone sitting across the room. 

Elain felt compelled to explain further. “He always told me the most important thing to find in a husband was true love. That I should not settle for anyone less than a kind, loyal heart who loves every part of me, because that kind of love will never leave you.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, Nesta regarded her with furrowed eyebrows. “And you do not believe that a mating bond can also encompass those very same feelings? That same love?” 

She considered her question carefully, chewing on her bottom lip. “Perhaps it can, but how can you know it is true? That it is not just the manifestation of desire in its place?” It was always that doubt, that fear, that crept into the darkest crevices of her heart. For as long as those shadows existed, she could not bring herself closer to her own mate, afraid she would be unable to determine the answer. In return, she was afraid of what she could possibly want or feel for him.

“I wish I could make you comprehend, Elain.” Nesta frowned, “I wish I could properly convey the feeling of how your soul glows when your mate loves you—”

Before Nesta could continue, Elain found herself apologizing with a hand on her elbow. “Gods forbid that I should undervalue the love and bond you share with Cassian, or Feyre’s either for that matter. It is a reminder that bonds can be true and constant attachments.”

She could not immediately have uttered another sentence; her heart was too full, her breath too much oppressed.

“You’re a good sister,” Nesta replied affectionately and Elain wonder if her sister could see past her tenderness, if anyone could witness the mask of kindness that Elain could so easily put on for the sake of others to hide her own feelings. The conversation faded as Feyre now joined them with Nyx on her hip, a welcome distraction for Elain as the three of them turned to him. 

“Ready to go?” Cassian’s voice eventually broke through the hum of the room, an echo across the parlor. “We need to meet with Vassa and Jurian.” Lucien was folding up a letter in great haste, and either could not or would not answer fully.

“Yes,” he said. “I will winnow us. I will be ready in half a minute.” 

Cassian left to wait for him at the front door, and Lucien, having sealed his letter with great rapidity, was indeed ready, with a hurried and agitated air, as if he was greatly impatient to leave. Elain could not understand it. Cassian had given her a smile and shoulder a warm squeeze as he left the room, but from Lucien himself, not a single word. He had passed out of the room without a look.  

Elain moved closer to the table where he had been writing, when suddenly she heard footsteps returning; the door opened and it was Lucien. He gave her a polite nod and gestured to where he had forgotten his gloves, instantly crossing the room to the desk. He drew out a letter from under the scattered papers, placed it before Elain with eyes glowing in longing fixed on her, and hastily collected his gloves, once again out of the room before anyone could even be aware he had been in it at all. 

The interaction was almost beyond expression. The letter, with strokes of pen that were hardly legibly, as if rushed, read “Elain Archeron,” was evidently the one which he had been folding so hastily. While he had supposedly been writing to Helion, he had also been addressing her. On the contents of that letter depended all which this world could do for her. Anything was possible. Sinking into the chair which he had occupied, succeeding to the very spot where he had leaned and written, her eyes devoured the following words:

“I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when this bond first snapped, two and a half years ago. Dare not say that a mate’s love cannot be true, that his love is influenced by our tether. I have loved another, but none like you. Unjust I may have been, distant and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Velaris. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these past few days after Solstice, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine, I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish your true thoughts through the bond when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent female! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among males. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating in your mate,  L.V. I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow the court, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter the Night Court this evening or never again.” 

Such a letter was not to be soon recovered from. 

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #i am half agony half hope #elucien fanfic #elucien fanfiction #jane austen inspired #persuasion x elucien #you cant convince me that lucien isnt writing her letters all the time #or that sjm wasnt influenced by this book #very elucien coded

[blueywrites]

turtle dove and the crow, part three

A 1940s Farm AU, featuring bsf!neighbor!eddie x fem!reader

story tags: 18+ (minors dni). smut; true love; unexpected pregnancy; angst, angst, angst; parental issues; corporal punishment; scheming, plotting, and betrayal; hurt/comfort; period-typical stigma regarding unwed pregnancy; angst with a happy ending.

chapter tags: 18+. p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex, angst, hurt/comfort.

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | interlude | part four | part five | epilogue | playlist

(I have not edited this yet, so please excuse any editing mistakes!)

PART THREE: WOLF LIKE ME (12.7K)

Feel me, completer

Down to my core

Open my heart

And let it bleed onto yours

Feedin' on fever

Down on all fours

Show you what all that howlin's for

Wolf Like Me - Lera Lynn ft. Shovels & Rope

Deep in the field, two roosts sit side by side. One is built of sturdy, weathered wood painted the color of bright red berries, with deep-set windows and a dark sloping roof that protects it from the elements. The other is made of wide symmetrical clapboards painted blue like the sky on a cloudless day, with knotted-oak shutters slightly worn from the sun and wind and bright white trim that shines in the eager summer light. They are separated only by a tall fence and a stump rotted through to the other side, through which the grasses of their yards mingle to become one. 

These roosts house different birds. One is a trio of turtle doves, a mated pair with a young hen still soft and brown-gray, though her iridescence is maturing now, subduing into adulthood. The other is a pair of long-bonded crows, though the younger spent its fledgling years in the care of another, who pecked and prodded and stole his sustenance until the young one fluttered finally away, seeking to shelter under the safe wing of his older kin. 

They may bear different feathers— one downy gray, one glossy black— but if one were to peep through the windows, one would see these young birds and note how similar they appear right now as they preen. Both turtle dove and crow are drawing their beaks along each feather to clear away the dust, fluttering out their wings in great stretches, and hopping about the expanse of their rooms, caught in restless preparation as the grandfather clock ticks its hand toward seven. 

The turtle dove adorns herself for the crow. She dresses in her Independence Day best, twisting to watch the ankle-length skirt swirl around her legs in swaths of dainty yellow gingham. She dances her fingertips along the hand-sewn embroidery that decorates the square neckline, feeling along the tiny white flowers and vines for the perfect spot. There, she pins two sprigs— one lavender, one jasmine— to nestle amongst the white threads she’d sewn with careful fingers, her first attempt at embellishing her clothing, ventured to celebrate the holiday in mid-July. With a careful hand, she ties a bow of white silk to the side of her head. Now smelling of flowers and gilded in homespun sunshine, she has finished her preparations.

The crow, meanwhile, focuses less on his adornments. He doesn’t possess his own Independence Day best; instead, he dresses in a collared, button-up shirt oft worn, paired with navy blue woolen slacks and a leather belt with a simple buckle. But he made sure to scrub his skin with soap 'til it shone pink over every inch of him— between his toes, behind his ears, on the backs of his knees and the nape of his neck. He has brushed out his hair and tamed the flyaways with pomade, twining the curls around his rough fingers to let them drop into careful coils, working with a delicacy that he feels near-embarrassed about despite not having been observed. Carefully, he picks the dirt from beneath his fingernails and trims them short and neat, though he’d been waylaid momentarily by regretful ruminations on the roughness of his palms. He swipes his thumbs impatiently along the callouses that cannot be softened with warm bathwater as if he might rub them away before giving up and brushing his teeth for the second time instead.

With one last ruffle of feathers and a careful appraisal in the mirror, crow and turtle dove descend their staircases in tandem at five to seven, filled with the flutterings of nervous, jittery excitement that precede such an occasion as this.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, Mama and Pa are already loitering there; you hurry down the last few steps, swinging around with a hand on the banister to fling yourself toward the kitchen and avoid keeping them waiting too much longer. The pie you’d baked with apples from the tree out back is still wafting steam from its golden, flaky crust, but when you test the glass dish with a little pat of your fingertips, you find it’s cool enough to snatch up with a handtowel plucked from the towelbar beneath the sink. Carefully, you carry it back to your parents, stealing a quick glance at their faces as you group together with them. They’ve dressed nicely— though not quite as fussily as you— and their faces hold the same impassive pleasantness that had been there yesterday when the occasion had been proposed to them by the wild-haired boy next door. 

He’d stood in his muddy boots on the bristly mat, so adamant in his refusal to tell you what the matter was until your parents joined you that you’d had half a mind to think that something terribly grave had occurred. Your worry gave way to confusion once they arrived and Eddie, with uncharacteristic formality, extended an invitation to dinner at the Munson house for seven o’clock the following day. 

Though his delivery was strange, the whole thing was no cause for alarm because you and your family had dined with Wayne at least once each season since before you could remember. But when your parents accepted politely, and Eddie looked then to you, his eyes held a promise unspoken in their umber depths. They were lightened to honey in the sunshine, glossy yet still deep and dark like a pool of rippling water. You had an inkling of what might set this occasion apart from others previous, but you barely dared to think it lest you be disappointed. Still, even without that certainty, you’d taken the time to dress your best, to rouge your cheeks and lips, and set your hair more carefully than usual, just in case that inkling came to pass. And you’d insisted on baking an apple pie to bring over for dessert, prepared to fight had your mother put up any protest, which she had not.

The walk across the grass to the house side by side with yours has never felt so long as it does today. The August air is heavy but dry from the day's heat, wafting with woodsmoke and ablaze with the rhythmic chirping of crickets that are emerging, drawn by the deepening light. And it feels laden with something else, too, as you crunch along the gravel path that connects the front of your property with the Munsons’. Perhaps it’s the promise you think you saw in Eddie’s eyes that wisps along the breeze, ruffling the leaves of the oak trees that stand tall and proud behind that red house. Or perhaps it’s your own unspoken revelation, the one that bloomed in the goat pen those days ago, filling your lungs to swell anew behind your ribs. The heaviness of that unknowable quality makes the walk to Eddie’s house feel long, but it is, in fact, over with quite quickly.

He does live just next door, after all.

You carry your sweet offering up to his porch with eyes fixed on the sturdy, weather-beaten door. There you pause to wait for your parents, and when they join you, your mother raps the doorframe smartly with unhesitant knuckles. They flank you like sentinels as you wait, lips pursing at the faint ruckus you hear behind that thick wood. It’s Ed thumpin’ down the stairs, no doubt, you figure, and your supposition is proven correct when just a moment later the door flies open, quick at first before being slowed with a jerk to a more respectable speed.

You can’t pretend to have chosen the dress you’re wearing for any other reason than the fact he’d mentioned it that day at the creek, but the way Eddie’s face goes slack— the way his dark brows melt into softness and his plush lips part just slightly as he marvels at the sight of you— makes it difficult to keep your composure in front of your parents. As does the sight of Eddie himself. Mama and Pa fade at the sight of him, and you can’t help but pause a moment to take him in, your eyes fluttering over his features like a gentle brush of wings. 

Eddie’s curls, dark and rich like wood stain, look as soft and shiny as liquid silk where they spill over his shoulders, and your fingers twitch with longing as you imagine drawing them through those coils. His skin is radiant, scrubbed noticeably clean, and its paleness makes his freckles stand out stark in contrast, like a dusting of spicy cinnamon across the bridge of his nose. He’s rolled his buttoned shirt up to the elbow, revealing strong forearms and broad, rough-hewn hands that are scrambling now to unburden you from the dessert you’d prepared. 

You allow him to take it, offering a grateful smile. He returns it before ducking to the side to peer around you. “Evenin’, sir. Ma’am.” Eddie greets your Mama and your Pa almost reservedly, and the absence of his typical manic edge or teasing rasp feels odd but also makes a strange thrill thrum in your belly. He explains, “My uncle’s occupied there in the kitchen; dinner’s about finished. Just gotta set the table,” he adds, almost to himself, and you hasten to offer your assistance.

With just a hint of too much sweetness for comfort, you tell Eddie, “I can help you if you like.”

“Thank you.” Eddie’s cheek dimples in a soft, crooked smile. “And for the pie.”

You wave off his regard to keep your cheeks from pinking. “S’nothin.”

You’ve been inside Wayne Munson’s house on occasion since you were small, as have your parents, but Eddie still leads you along the wide worn floorboards and through the archway into the sitting room. This room is as it always is: green paint faded from the westward setting sun on the far wall, Wayne’s sagging armchair nestled in the corner, a hand-hewn coffee table and the striped couch with the crochet blanket draped over its back in a cascade of the merry yellows and oranges you know Wayne is partial to on account of the sunflowers. There’s a pair of eyeglasses on the side table near the armchair atop a magazine that is clearly Wayne’s, but the boot poking from half-beneath it, strewn carelessly as if it had been kicked off in a hurry, is clearly not. A faint smile crosses your face as you spot it, though your father’s loud clomping footsteps draw your attention soon enough. The sizzling of the stove is overtaken by your father’s friendly shout as forges ahead to the kitchen; the gruff warmth of two men greeting one another accompanies you as you cross the living room to join Eddie in the dining room. 

You become mindful of what you’d offered when you see him clearing the runner and the simple centerpiece from the dining table, which dominates the middle of the room despite the tall hutch standing broad against the far wall. You hasten to help him, hovering nearby as he pulls open the hutch drawer. You catch your mother eying the dust on the ridge lining the hutch and prepare yourself for some remark on the matter, but in the end, she doesn’t comment. Instead, she merely watches you and Eddie futz with the silverware for a moment before leaving you to your work to survey the goings-on in the kitchen. You hear the conversation between the two men stall when she enters before continuing, making room for the new addition.

Eddie squats to retrieve the plates as you set out the placemats, lining them with spoons and knives side-by-side and forks placed carefully across from them, with space to nestle the plates in-between. You circle the table methodically, dropping piece after piece on your path as Eddie rotates in the other direction, crossing your path almost as seamlessly as if this is a practiced dance. It’s not something you’ve ever done together— meals typically don’t stand on such ceremony as this, and Eddie certainly doesn’t usually fold the linen napkins into careful squares before dropping them onto the white ceramic. But as you watch him nudge the fabric with the tip of his finger to straighten its crooked lines, his tongue tip peeking pink between his lips as he does, the chore feels distinctly domestic to you, like something that has happened dozens of times before and will continue again for countless more. That sudden uncanny inkling mixes with the feeling that swells up sometimes behind your ribs, which resurges when Eddie sidles up next to you and bumps you lightly out of the way with his hip. 

“Watch it, you,” he pretends to grouse, lips quirking as he drops the napkin square onto the final plate with a flourish. “M’tryn’a set the table here.”

“Oh, and I’m not?” you retort hotly, but when he pinches your waist quick and playful, you can’t help the giggle that squeals its way from your throat. He dances back from your jabbing finger aimed at his side, curls bouncing as his face lights with a smile. Not to be deterred, you snatch up the napkin he’d just put down, and as it unravels from its square to prepare to strike him across the ribs, the familiar gravel of a throat being cleared— aged and croaky with years of tobacco use— has you spinning on your heel and hiding the evidence of your childishness behind your back.

The sight of Eddie’s uncle is wholly more welcome than your own Pa at the moment, though you still want to squirm as he regards you with a squint and a quirked brow. “Hello, Wayne!” you say brightly. You’re fooling no one; it’s an obvious attempt to distract him as you plop the napkin back onto the plate, letting it drop behind your back. 

“Hello, y/n. It’s nice to see you.” Wayne doesn’t react as Eddie reaches slowly around you to fiddle the napkin back into a semblance of orderliness, though you swear his blue eyes— so different from Eddie’s in color but so alike in their expressiveness— are twinkling now as he carries the plate of fried pork chops to the table, setting them carefully down.

“Thanks for having us over for dinner,” you say, clasping your hands demurely in front of your lap. “It’s very kind of you.”

Wayne rasps a chuckle as he straightens, clapping a heavy hand on Eddie’s shoulder briefly before moving with characteristic creakiness toward the kitchen. “No need to thank me; it was all Ed,” he offers offhandedly before disappearing, unaware of how the comment stirs the hope within you to sweet and tender life.

The meal shared with your neighbors is pleasant. More than pleasant, in fact. The pork chops are crispy but tender, yielding easily to your knife; the sweet juice of the fresh corn snaps between your teeth as you bite into the cob, and the sliced tomatoes are buttery smooth and perfectly ripe. Wayne is seated to your right at the head of the table with your father beside you on the left, and you spend the majority of the meal eating and listening rather than speaking, more than content to let them bookend you with their familiar voices made more fervent in the company of friendly company not often seen. Eddie is seated across from you, and when you aren’t listening to the patriarchs reminisce about the drought of ‘36 and lament the inconvenience they’re suffering as a bridge repair forces them to travel in some roundabout way, you’re watching Eddie eat. You’re staring at him with a level of fascination that is almost unnerving, made clear as his brow furrows slightly when he catches your eyes fixed so firmly on him.

But you’re staring because it’s strange, the way he’s eating. You’ve seen Eddie eat many times, and he always does it with a certain disregard for common manners: borderline too-ambitious bites, mouth open more than it’s closed, fingers sucked of grease, crumbs everywhere. Yet, not so tonight. Tonight, every slice is cut to a reasonable size; every bite is measured and chewed thoughtfully; every swallow occurs before he speaks again. And Eddie is even using his napkin. It’s laid across his lap and, miraculously, lifted to his mouth every once in a while to neaten the corners of those plush pink lips before being replaced just as carefully 

The empty space where that napkin is usually balled to the side of his empty plate is not the most uncanny thing, though. What is the most uncanny thing is the way your mother is actively engaging him in conversation about the 4H fair next month. Eddie tells her he plans to enter Merlin as a showhorse, and she nods across to you, donning a soft smile as she says, “Y/n’s really been makin’ strides with her embroidery ahead of the showin’. I think she’ll be ready.”

“She’s gettin’ real good, from what I’ve seen,” Eddie agrees eagerly, bobbing his head maybe a little too wildly. “Did she show you the hoop she’s makin’ for my uncle? The one with our family name in the middle?”

“I think so…” Mama’s head tips as she considers it. “That the one that has sunflowers on it?”

“And chicory flowers, too,” you pipe up, meeting Eddie’s umber eyes across the broad table, watching them soften to honey. Your Mama makes a sound of recognition and keeps talking, and while Eddie nods, replying politely, his gaze doesn’t stray from yours.

When bellies have been filled, and plates have been cleaned of all but the tiniest crumbs, you decide as a group to retire to the living room before indulging in dessert. Your hosts lead the way, and Wayne takes his customary place in his well-worn armchair, sinking down with a bone-weary sigh borne partly of creaking joints and partly of a belly swollen by overindulgence. 

Your mother hovers near the archway, surveying the seating options demurely until Wayne notices and waves her easily toward the couch. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Ed’ll park his seat on the floor, won’t you, son?”

“Oh,” she protests politely, “I’m sure we don’t mind—”

But Eddie has already flopped himself down in front of the hearth, leaning back on the heels of his palms and stretching his lanky legs toward the coffee table, perfectly content. As his foot bobs back in an easy rhythm, Mama’s eyes dart to the hole in the bottom of his sock near the toes, the way the white thread is worn gray and threadbare on the balls and the heel. Quick as a flash, they dart away again as Pa encourages her forward with a hand at the small of her back. Together they take the couch, your mother perching on the edge with her ankles crossed and your father sinking back into the cushions, leaning one elbow comfortably against the arm and letting out his own sigh to match Wayne’s.

You’re about to join Eddie on the floor when you notice, peeking from the corner of the long hall leading toward the back of the house, curves of spruce that beckon your excitement. 

“Oh!” You make a sound not unlike your mother’s, though yours is borne of exuberance as you pick your way around Eddie’s legs. He grunts a light protest as you plant a palm atop his head to steady yourself while stepping over him, but you ignore it in favor of plucking the instrument from its hiding place, brandishing it in the air with wide eyes and a broad grin. “Look, Ed, it’s your guitar!” 

“Yes,” he says, half wry as you toddle towards him, awkward and unwieldy in your inexperience carrying it. “That’d be my guitar, all right. Why, aren’t you the clever one.” 

Your reply is quick and entirely cheerful. “You shush y’r mouth, Eddie Munson,” you say easily, depositing the guitar in his lap and taking a seat cross-legged beside him. In your peripheral, you can see Wayne leaning back in his chair, surveying you as his fingers stroke his grizzled beard, but your eyes are all for the man with wild curls and a teasing grin that stretches his plush pink lips as he glances over at you. “I was thinkin’ y’could play us some songs to pass the time before dessert.”

Eddie sighs beleagueredly, tipping his head back even while already lifting the guitar strap over his shoulders. “What next? Y’gonna ask me to sing too?” He slants another glance at you, chuckling as your eyes light up even further. You clutch his wrist, shaking lightly, only faltering slightly when you notice how hot and smooth his skin is underneath your fingers. The awareness tingles within you, and you snatch your hand back.

You play it off with characteristic banter. “D’you want some o’my apple pie?” you question him, quirking your eyebrows in challenge.

Eddie purses his lips, not quite pouting but close to it. “...Yes,” he replies, and you jerk your chin toward the guitar.

“Then get to singin’, mister,” you say hotly, though you can’t help but smile when Eddie pretends to clutch his heart and sway back as if wounded by your demands. A disapproving tut draws your eyes, and they widen when you see Mama’s narrow. She’s clucking her tongue in a way that means she is dissatisfied with your attitude and wants you to know it. 

Your spine straightens under her silent gaze, and a prickle of shame needles across your shoulders as you clasp your hands in your lap. You look back at her contritely until she finally glances away; if anyone else notices the nonverbal exchange, they don’t let on, and the shame fades as Eddie begins to pluck the first few notes of the song he’s chosen to begin with.

Your mother’s reproach is quickly forgotten as Eddie’s warm rasp fills the room to accompany the twang of the guitar’s strings. The sound is untrained, yet melodic and pleasant nonetheless as he sings, “Well, they tell me, my dear, that you’re going; I will miss your bright eyes and your smile. For with you, you are taking the sunshine that has brightened my life for a while.”

Red River Valley wouldn’t have been your first choice of song for the occasion, though you must admit that Eddie sounds quite nice singing it. And it’s pleasant to watch him play, too: his long lashes dust the pale of his cheeks as he looks down at his fingerwork, and your gaze slides down the slope of his nose to the soft end, then down to the valley between nose and lip, then finally to the pink of his full lips as they form the words. “I have waited a long time my darling for those words that you never would say” A lock of curls behind his ear slips to drape over his cheek, and though your fingers itch to tuck it back for him again, you force them still in your lap. “And alas now my poor heart is breaking for they tell me you’re going away.”

Eddie repeats the chorus one last time and ends with a flourish of strumming, a smile stretching his cheeks wide as your Mama claps politely and her eyes wrinkle pleasedly. Your father is less enthusiastic, though he does nod absently when he sees you looking at him imploringly. “S’pretty good,” he offers, and Eddie accepts it graciously, resetting his fingers on the frets to regale you with some improvised playing. 

He is quiet for a while as he plays, brow furrowed in concentration as he weaves chords and notes into a tapestry of story, not unlike the tales he’s long invented for you since you were merely children playing in the mud. You marvel for a moment at the fact that those broad hands, so rough and worn from labor, are able to create such sweet and delicate sound; you watch his long fingers dance along the frets, the way their strong calluses catch the strings and make them cry out in joyful feeling. His playing is unhurried and peaceful, but watching Eddie fills you with a thrumming sort of happiness that makes you want to join in— something you’ve never done before despite the many times you’ve heard him play. 

That feeling bubbles over as his song eases into a brief silence, and you take the opportunity to ask if you can make a request. Eddie’s brows jerk in surprise for only a moment before he’s nodding quickly, perhaps a little too wild in his effort to encourage you. And though he rolls his eyes lightly when you tell him what you want, a smile still tugs at the corner of his lips as he begins a tune more jaunty and sentimental than the one he’d been playing.

You watch as he plays the introduction, waiting for his eyes to flash to yours promptingly before you begin to sing. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray.” Your voice is not as practiced as Eddie’s— though his is barely so— but it is clear of tone and gains steadiness as you continue, “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you; please don’t take my sunshine away.”

It becomes clear as you begin to sing this song why people sing songs. Which may seem an odd revelation in and of itself, but it’s something that you’ve just… never really done before. You may hum a tune to yourself as you complete your chores, or warble along with the record player, but that’s not the same as letting your own voice be the one to take the place of silence, to fill a room so full that you cannot be ignored. There is something vulnerable about that choice, and you feel that vulnerability in the itch at the base of your throat, where your skin is heating with the awareness that everyone can hear every crack or falter in your pitch. But as you sing the words out, emboldened by Eddie’s confident playing, you realize there’s a kind of wild disregard for perfection in the act, an impulsive freedom that feels very much like joy. And you see that joy echoed on Eddie’s face when he accompanies you for the final verse, his warm brashness husking up the clearness of yours in a way that sounds, not just good, but right. 

Another smattering of applause follows your performance, and you bask in it; your knee seeks the side of Eddie’s thigh, resting there lightly, and though you don’t glance down at it for fear of drawing too much attention, just knowing that he is warm, and solid, and connected to a small part of you makes happiness perch high in your heart.

“If I could make a request.” 

All eyes turn to Mama, who has now sunk back against the couch, not quite leaning against your father’s side but close to it. “How about ‘John the Rabbit?’ Used to sing that t’you when you were little. D’you remember that?”

Mama’s voice is just the same as it always is— even when it’s calm, the urgency of ‘get this done, knock it off, do this, not that’ is never quite gone. But her expression is buttery soft now as she gazes at you, and as you relax under its comforting weight, your body sags subtly toward the man sitting at your side. “Sure I do,” you tell her, “used to sing it to me in the mornin’, and that’s how I knew we were gonna tend the garden that day.”

Mama hums, beckoning you gently with her chin. “Why don’t you lead us in a round, hm?” She casts glances around at the men, adding, “All you gotta do is say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

“‘Til the last line,” you pipe up, “then y’say, ‘No, ma’am.’”

Wayne chuckles, rubbing his palms along his worn blue jeans. “I reckon we can handle it,” he assures her in his slow way, and with that, Eddie strums a simple tune fitting of a nursery school rhyme. 

You sing sweetly, “Oh, John the rabbit—”

“Yes, ma’am,” the rest call, and you smile through the next line:

“Got a mighty habit—”

“Yes’ ma’am.” 

“Jumpin’ in my garden—” you pause for the others, who oblige you readily, before continuing, “Cuttin’ down my cabbage…” and yielding them the floor.

The leader is meant to draw out the next line, to twang the words at the end, and you sway in your seat as you faithfully follow. “My sweet potatoes,” you croon at Eddie, and he leans toward you as he answers louder than the rest,

“Yes ma’am!”

With each successive line, the delight inside you grows, and it echoes through the room, repeated on every face— man and woman, young and old.

“And if I live… to see next fall… I ain’t gonna have… no garden at all—” You heave a great breath, grinning as you throw your head back and chorus with the others,

“No… ma’am!” 

Eddie strums hard and quick to end the song, and your giggle is joined by Wayne’s thick chuckle, and your mother’s polite humming, and your father’s hoarse bark of amusement. And when Eddie throaty, husky chuckles swallow up them all beside you, you think if you could bottle up this sound and keep it forever, you would. You certainly would.

When you return to the dining room, taking your seat beside your father, the air that fills the red roost is thick with the sweetness of shared company, almost enough to rival the flaky pie you’re all indulging in. It’s not the finest you’ve ever tasted, but it’s with a sense of pride that you watch the others enjoy it. Pa is gesturing widely with his fork as he discusses autumn arrangements with Wayne, how they might coordinate their harvests of hay and corn for mutual benefit. Mama is scooping up each bite slowly and chewing thoroughly, which you know means she is stalling to keep herself from devouring the whole thing in one fell swoop. Wayne is already on his second slice despite protesting, when he’d initially been served, that he couldn’t eat another bite. And Eddie…

Well, Eddie has eaten half his pie already, but in the last handful of minutes he’s been pushing the remainder around on his fork— not disinterestedly, as if he doesn’t enjoy it, but with a sort of jerkiness to the motions that belys some tension within him. You have half a mind to ask him what’s bothering him, but you don’t want to embarrass him in front of company. You bury down the tinge of worry, which is what must be kicking up your heart, what must account for the sudden tightness in your own chest, though it feels more akin to anticipation. 

So you eat your pie, and listen to your father, and glance back and forth between Mama and Eddie until the latter finally sets his fork down with a clink that somehow, despite the lack of force, cuts straight through the conversation between Wayne and Pa. It lapses into silence, and your heart pounds harder as you watch a pink tongue swipe at plush lips and an adam’s apple bob in a pale throat before the brash voice of your best friend fills the void.

“Sir,” Eddie says, looking at your father, and a lump grows in your throat as the word wavers just slightly before recovering. “I hope it’s all right, me speaking out of turn, but… there’s something I need to say to you.”

There is a brief pause as all eyes turn to your Pa. He draws his napkin over his lips, and its drag smooths the severe lines around his mouth for just a moment before they spring back up again into place. “S’your house,” your father replies, not unkindly.

Eddie’s eyes dart to Wayne for just a second, and you follow them to see the older man gazing back calmly. When they return to your Pa, Eddie lifts his chin, keeping his gaze and voice steady. “We’ve lived next door to each other for just about ten years now. And in that time, I’ve gotten to know your family well, and you’ve gotten to know mine.” His throat bobs as he pauses. “Y/n and I grown up alongside each other, and maybe my opinion don’t matter all that much in the scheme of things, but I tell you humbly that, well, I think you both done a mighty fine job raisin’ her.”

Eddie looks at your mother beside him, who offers him a slight nod, but he doesn’t look at you. And good thing, too, because that feeling is swelling up to fill your throat so hot and thick, it’s all you can do to keep your chin from trembling. “I know y’don’t need me to tell you this,” Eddie huffs a breathless chuckle, “y’already know how good she is. But I think it warrants bein’ said that there’s somethin’ about y/n that’s special.” His chest expands with a bracing breath, and in that pause, you see it all in Eddie’s umber eyes. In the line of his brow, the gentle slope of his nose, the light flush of his cheeks, the strength of his jaw— all that he could ever say is there, written plain as day across his beloved face.

“Special to me, s’what I’m saying,” he clarifies, and the way his brow furrows just slightly in the middle— tugged up into an expression of sweet earnestness— has your heart beating so wild and fast you think it might leap out of your chest and into the cradle of his arms. 

“Sir,” Eddie says, “I really care about your daughter, and I would like to ask your permission to court her.”

It’s what you hadn’t allowed yourself to hope for when you’d taken out the Fourth of July dress and adorned yourself in sprigs of lavender and rosemary. It’s what shone through Eddie’s eager smile when he opened the door to his home with his face scrubbed clean, waiting there for you. It’s the promise of forever stretched out over the expanse of a wooden dining table, where napkins were carefully folded into squares and pies were baked with fresh apples from the tree outside. Small acts of service committed by two sets of hands, each trailing love like fairy dust in their wake.

Pa clears his throat— not a sharp sound, more of a rumble of consideration as he leans back in his chair, gazing at Mama across from him. He nods his head slowly, thoughtfully, a gradual bobbing that continues as his tongue runs over his teeth behind his lips. It ends with a jerking of his brows and the smack of his lips opening as he replies,

“I appreciate your words, Edward, they’re very kind. But, no.” His eyes hold Eddie’s steadily. “I do not give you permission to court my daughter.”

Your father doesn’t yell. He doesn’t even sound particularly bothered. And yet the pall that settles over the Munson’s dinner table is so oppressive that you feel your shoulders sink under the palpable weight of the silence following his denial. That heaviness drags like a rotten hand down the back of your neck; it melts to viscous ooze, seeping over your clavicle, sinking through your gingham dress and coating the swelling behind your ribs in suffocating shock. 

Distantly, you hear Wayne stiffly ask your parents to accompany him into the living room. You feel your father’s chair scrape out beside you; you want to glance at your Mama’s face, but your eyes are stuck to the flakes of crust and the crystals of sugar dotting the linen napkin laid beside your plate. 

It isn’t until you’re alone with Eddie that the heaviness sloughs off of you to slap like dead meat to the floor. Then you can raise your head and meet the umber eyes of the man who sits across from you, motionless and hollow.

As soon as you see the expression on his face, the feeling shifts in you; with an impatient jerk of your chair, you stand to crane over the table and take up his cheeks in your hands. His head is heavy, his neck loose and pliant, and you hold him steady as you speak quietly and intently. 

“Okay, look, Ed—” You take a shuddering breath, letting it out through your nose, and it ruffles the soft curls that frame his jaw as he looks back at you blankly. You continue in an urgent whisper, “Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’ll put up a bit of a fuss, of course, but if I fight ‘em too hard, they’ll look at me cross, and we won’t get nowhere. By all appearances, we should look like we accept their decision, all right? That’ll buy us time to figure out what to do.” 

Eddie doesn’t react, really; nothing much on his face changes. But you know him too well, so you can see the subtle shifting there, how the dullness in his umber eyes edges into mournfulness. Defeat.

Your heart cracks.

His name whispers through your quivering lips. “Eddie…” Your eyes prick for him, for all the effort he put into making this night so perfect, and how it now had gone all sideways on him. On you both. 

You don’t think much about what you do next. It’s instinct when you surge forward to kiss him hard, pressing your lips to his with all the fervency and yearning and love that swells within your body. Your heart thumps when you feel him respond, when his lips pucker and seek yours, when his trembling fingertips draw lightly down your cheek. 

There is urgency and danger here in the dining room, but you hold the kiss as long as you can before your lungs begin to burn. When you pull away, gasping for breath, Eddie now looks more dazed than sad, and it both reassures you and feeds your fire. 

“I don’t give a hoot what they say,” you whisper fiercely. “I wanna be with you, Ed. We been good at sneakin’ around before, and we can do it now, too.” You search his eyes, panging with hesitation for the first time as you scrape your teeth across your teeth before blurting, “I don’t wanna stop seein’ you. Do… do you wanna stop seein’ me, now that this’s happened?” 

Eddie huffs— a small warm puff of breath that ghosts across your lips— and it’s wry and unbelieving but so incredibly soft. “‘Y/n.” His voice is a gentle rumble in his chest, earnest and hoarse. “Now that I had a chance to know you the way we know each other, I think it’d kill me dead to go back to how it was before. I could barely keep it together then. Can’t imagine doin’ it now that I’ve had you underneath me.” You shiver at the hot promise in his eyes. “‘Sides,” he adds, “I—”

The merciful floorboards warn you of the imminent return of your parents, and you fall back into your chair just in time to appear innocent as they reenter the dining room.

“Well!” Your father sighs the word in that tone people only use when closing something out— a conversation, a get-together, an engagement. You think he will continue, that he will turn to Eddie and perhaps offer an explanation, but that single word just lingers in the pause until your mother jumps in.

“Thank you for dinner, Wayne. Eddie,” Mama says politely, and Eddie manages to bob his head in a single nod to acknowledge her. Wayne has far more composure, accepting her thanks and exchanging a polite word about the next dinner.

Your father shakes Wayne’s hand firmly and then beckons you with a jerk of his head. “C’mon, missy, let’s leave ‘em to their evenin’.” 

It would be odd if it weren’t that you understood what must have happened in the living room— that your father had explained his decision to Wayne, and that they’d managed to come out the other side maintaining, at the very least, a level of friendliness befitting neighbors. 

So you follow suit; with as much decorum as you can muster, you rise primly and thank Wayne, casting one last glance at Eddie before you depart the red roost of the crows.

You wait until you’re back inside your own roost and your front door has closed behind you to turn on them, brow knit tight with righteous indignation. “Why did you deny Eddie, Pa?” you demand. “What’s wrong with him courtin’ me?” You can’t quite keep the heat from your voice; the outrage bubbling beneath the surface is too fresh, too hot as you remember Eddie’s beloved umber eyes, how the light in them dimmed.

Your father does not quail at your display; if anything, he grows taller, raising his chin and regarding you down the bridge of his nose. “Y/n, I’ve been acquainted with Edward for damn near ten years now, and in that time, he has proved himself time after time to be frivolous and uncouth. That boy is entirely lacking in discipline.” In a rare display of restraint, your father does not raise his voice at you in the privacy of your home. Yet he is no less hardened for it; his words fall like heavy stones before your feet. “Edward is downright wild. Your mother and I have let you indulge in this little friendship with him, above all, on account of our respect for Wayne. But he is not the kind of young man I want courtin' my only unwed daughter.”

You could tell them that Eddie’s wildness is what fuels his heart, what makes him so passionate and imaginative and enchanting. You could tell them that he bought you a ribbon and scrubbed his nails clean, that he takes you to wildflower fields because he knows you like them and invents stories to make you happy. You could tell them that you love him, that you always have, that when you envision what your life will be like with your own house and garden, you can’t see anyone but Eddie Munson by your side. 

Yet you fear to voice these things, to breathe life into them and then have them butchered just as quickly at your father’s hand. You glance at your mother, but her face is an impassive mask; you know appealing to her will get you nowhere, so you latch to the only thing you can think of. Despite telling Eddie that you will not fight hard for him since that will only make things more difficult, you find yourself unable to resist.

“But Pa,” you try for earnestness, “Ed is disciplined, don’t you see? Think of all he’s done for us ‘round the house, and with the fence and the kid. I think he’s been tryin’ so hard this past week to show you how serious he is about m—”

A curled lip is all the warning you get before being interrupted. “Never trust a man who acts just because he wants somethin’.” Your father finally snaps; his voice booms in the space between you. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what he done or how he acted this week. It don’t erase a lifetime of evidence to the contrary.”

And you know by the way your Pa’s severe face has petrified into the hardest stone, echoed though less harshly in the wrinkles that line your mother’s eyes, that their decision cannot be budged.

Edward Munson cannot court you, and that is that.

But the fact is, you don’t need Eddie Munson to court you. You’re already his, and you give yourself to him as such.

When you wake the next morning, it appears to your parents as if your ire from the night before was nothing but a feverish dream. You slink around the house with your tail held high, coy as a barnyard cat as you dine with them at the breakfast table, making amiable conversation with your Pa and complimenting your Mama’s cooking without a hint of sourness. You complete your chores without complaining— well, without any more complaining than is typical of you. You sew the buttons on your Mama’s dress with the utmost considerateness and drop kisses on your father’s cheek each night before retiring to bed. This awards you certain freedoms, freedoms that you certainly wouldn’t be gifted had you carried on about their rejection of Eddie the way you truly wanted to deep in your heart.

You keep it buried— the indignance, the sorrow, the swelling you feel when you catch glimpses of him through the cracks in the fence. You cover it in pleasantness and obeisance so that they won’t suspect, and when you visit the stump rotted through to the middle and find the papers wedged inside, you exercise the privileges you’ve won through subterfuge. 

“Nancy asked me to walk with her into town. She wants me to come with her to the dressmakers, so it might take a little while if that’s all right?” You ask your Pa as he’s repairing the sagging barn door, and his hammering pauses only long enough to tell you not to spend any frivolous money there. 

It’s quite easy to agree when you have no real intention of setting foot in the dressmaker’s shop.

Instead, you dip off the road and trail across the far edge of the Wheelers’ field, picking through a copse of trees to access the adjacent clearing that grows wild and unkempt. There, you find a patch of clear earth, and now, you are dropping to your knees to gather your skirt up around your hips. You arch your back shamelessly to expose yourself, presenting your pussy like a cat in heat to the man behind you. When you feel his broad hands ruck your skirt up higher, you press your palms to the earth and dip your cheek to the ground, just waiting to be mounted. When Eddie notches his fat head against your entrance, you teethe the plush of your bottom lip. He presses steadily forward until he pops inside, stretching you tight around his girth, and when you mewl, he hisses in response. In one long stroke— a motion quick and trembling like the tautness of a bowstring, as if he can no longer hold himself back now that he has notched inside you— Eddie presses his hips up tight against your ass and groans out his relief at your joining. His relief echoes your own, manifest in the way your body goes lax: chin dipping to take its rest, shoulders sagging as your breasts mold to the unyielding ground, fingers drawing through strands of green as if yearning for dark coils of ink but settling for second best. Eddie sleeves himself within the wet warmth that welcomes him, and your muscles yawn a sigh of relief even as you flutter and squeeze around that which splits you open.

There, in the dirt and grass, you give yourself to Eddie on your hands and knees. Your face grazes the earth as you let him pound into you from behind, let him grip your hips and claim you with the little imprints of his fingers that he squeezes into your skin. You and Eddie have done gentle; you know what it is to lie with him on the creekbed or in the wildflowers, where time seemed to stretch and bend, and every moment could be savored. But not so now, when the only occasions you can see one another are in moments stolen through lies and trickery. Now, your need for Eddie is dirty and ravenous. You take what he gives you, and you give freely for him to take in return. Each whimper and grunt, each harsh slap of skin against skin, each wet shlick of his cock sheathing in your eager heat sounds to you like a triumphant cry of defiance.

A wicked seed within you relishes in the fantasy of your parents seeing what you are allowing frivolous, uncouth Eddie Munson to do to you. You know your Mama would be scandalized— her eyes would pop out of her head. You know your Pa would be furious— his face would go purple with rage. They refused to allow Eddie to court you, and yet here he is, fucking into you with abandon as you whimper and tremble for him. And you like it; you like the way he spears you roughly with his cock, the way your ass bounces lewdly against his hips, the way your belly tightens with sinful pleasure as he plunges deep and holds himself there, pressing hard to grind himself inside you. Your walls flutter and squeeze around him as you circle your hips, seeking for something more. You angle and work yourself on his length until you jolt, having suddenly found what you sought. That feeling sparks like wicked fire, burning low inside you each time he grazes against that elusive spot inside, and oh, how you like it.

"Please, harder, Eddie," you beg him, whimpering into the earth. "Please— you feel so good." 

“Fuuuck,” Eddie groans, and the hoarse husk makes you shiver with pleasure. "Your pussy’s so sweet. So fuckin' tight and sweet for me, turtle dove. Fuckin’ love being inside your little pussy." 

You moan, long and low, rocking back to meet him as he starts to thrust again, hard and fast. You've learned that Eddie has a filthy mouth, and each dirty word that drips from his sinful lips is both so mortifying and so arousing at the same time. As his fingers tighten on your hips, and his breath harshens into desperate pants, urgency fills you— an urgency to feel him reach the pinnacle he is approaching. You want Eddie to spill inside you, or on your flank, or into the grass, anywhere so long as you can hear the way he whines and moans from the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s it, Ed,” you encourage him breathlessly, “just like that, just— oh— j-just like that, mmm—” 

You pinch off a whine, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as his rhythm becomes stilted, uneven, desperate— 

And then Eddie gasps raggedly, pulling out and spilling onto the earth between your spread legs. His hands leave you, and you scramble up to your knees, hole mournfully empty but heart so full. You turn as Eddie squeezes the last few drops of his seed from his flushed head onto the ground before catching you in one strong arm as you fall against him, cradling your cheek and kissing you deeply. 

But like the kiss you shared in his dining room those few days ago, floorboards creak in the back of your mind, cutting this one short. They’re reminding you that you will soon need to return home and pretend not to know the taste of Eddie’s lips and the feeling of his arms around you.

And frankly, by the end of the first week, you are already growing tired of having to pretend.

It’s not that you give yourselves away because you don’t. Eddie waves at your Pa over the fence and skirts his eyes from you— never cruelly, only in the way you both had planned— and your father doesn’t suspect a thing. When Eddie brings over a pail of milk so you can churn it to make butter, Mama’s face is carefree when you pass it to her. But your desire is no longer contained to fields and creekbeds; it rises up in the night as your yearnings bid you dip your fingers beneath your nightgown. You draw them through sticky folds and dip them inside the well of your arousal, seeking the smoldering fire that burns within. But you can never make yourself feel the way Eddie does, no matter how hard you try. 

So when you wake again in the middle of the night, this time, you light a candle, scratching a hasty message onto a scrap of paper. And the next morning, you fold your message carefully, tuck it beneath the waistband of your apron, and reach your arm up to the elbow into that rotted stump, leaving it there for Eddie to find.

The night air is heavy with humidity and the chirping of crickets and cicadas, but you leave the window open. You’re laying in your bed, breathing slow and even, staring at a thin crack in your plaster ceiling to keep your nervousness from overwhelming you. Your parents had retired to bed some time ago; you heard the creaking of the floorboards then, and now, if you concentrate, you can hear the chainsaw snoring of your Pa through both closed doors. 

He is sleeping, and Ma is sleeping, and so should you be. But you are waiting— waiting for your best friend to climb through your open window and join you in your bed.

You are waiting for it, but your heart leaps nonetheless when you hear scuffling at the bedroom window. You sit up, and all at once, he’s there, dark eyes gleaming in the faint moonlight. Eddie’s form is near shapeless as he creeps toward your bed, but you would recognize him anywhere; his weight has never dipped the mattress beside you, but it feels exactly as you would expect when one knee sinks beside your calf, only to be joined by the other in the next second. Slowly, feeling around in the dark, Eddie settles his weight on top of you. He is heavy and hot as he presses you into the mattress with his belly and chest; his curls tickle across your clavicle, smelling overwhelmingly like his natural musk in the stagnant air of your bedroom. When he kisses you hello, his mouth tastes slightly sour, as if the heat of the long day and the exertion of scaling the side of your house has dehydrated him. 

Eddie is heavy, hot, musky, sour, and here, here in your bedroom with you. 

It’s everything you could want.

When he breaks your kiss, it’s all you can do to keep from pouncing on him. “Eddie—” you whine, nuzzling the firm bridge of your nose against the side of his as your hands seek the bottom of his thin shirt blindly, tugging insistently though ineffectually. 

He shushes you gently, dropping a peck on your pouting lips before dipping to your neck to murmur against the soft skin there. “Shh—” his breath hushes warm and damp against your skin, and your head tips back of its own accord, begging for more. “You gotta be real quiet, turtle dove,” he whispers. “Don’t want anyone to hear us.”

Your breath deepens as his lips trail down to your collarbone, grazing kisses as he mosies his way down to your chest. In the humid dark, you feel his callused fingers pull down the loose neckline of your nightgown. Eddie says something, and you feel the vibrations of his words against the swell of your breast, but your heart which thumps wildly in your chest and the wooshing of your breath in your ears have rendered you effectively deaf.

 “E—” You manage only the first soft sound of his name before his lips close over your nipple for the first time, sucking firmly. Your hand flies to his head as your body goes rigid; your mouth falls open in a ragged gasp as pleasure jolts straight down to throb between your legs. You squirm against him until he presses your hip down with one broad hand to keep you from rocking the bed, working the nub with his tongue and teeth until your gasping breaks into a faint but audible whimper.

You are dazed when he releases you with a wet pop, murmuring against your breast a little more loudly now, “I guess Harrington was right about that, after all. That bodes well.”

You wrinkle your nose as Eddie crawls back up your body to settle over you. Your legs open automatically to accommodate him, but you’re too preoccupied to fully appreciate the feeling of his hardness pressing against your inner thigh. Frowning lightly, you hiss in a whisper, “What’re you doin’ talkin’ to Steven Harrington, of all people?”

“Never you mind that,” Eddie whispers back, and he heads off your protest with a warm palm cupping the side of your neck, his fingers cradling your jaw. “The conversation is too delicate to discuss with a lady, so I’ll just tell you that… well, he told me to do what I just did, and you liked it, right?”

Though embarrassed heat rushes to your cheeks, you nod your head jerkily, enough so he can feel it even if he doesn’t see it in the dark. “Okay, so… he also said there’s a spot.” His hand leaves your cheek to graze down between your bodies, ghosting lightly against the loose fabric pooled between your legs. “Somewhere I can touch you, down here, that’ll make you have a fit if I do it good enough.”

Your bewilderment rushes up in a tangle of sputtered and furious whispers. “Have a fit?! Ed, what on God’s green Earth makes you think I wanna have a fit?” 

Eddie huffs. “It’s a good thing, y/n. He said girls really like it.” 

Your skepticism is plain as you retort, “Oh, did he now?” 

“Yes.” Eddie is uncharacteristically earnest and solemn, and that’s what finally gives you pause. When you’re quiet, he whispers, “I wanna make you feel so good, my sweet girl. If you let me. Will you let me?” 

In the humid dark of your bedroom, with only the moon to glaze the side of Eddie’s pale face in cool, subtle light, you look into the darkness of his eyes and feel so many stirrings inside… anticipation, nervousness, desire. But in the end, it’s the deepest stirring of all that convinces you, the one that’s been growing slow and steady over the last ten years.

Trust. 

You trust Eddie, more deeply than you’ve trusted any other person in your life, and that trust is what draws you forward into a tentative kiss. 

Your lips part briefly from his before meeting again more firmly. Eddie rumbles low in his throat, and when his lips open to deepen the kiss, yours follow. You allow him to lick into your mouth, to draw his tongue across your teeth, to press closer until the way he’s kissing you is hot, deep, wet, and urgent. 

When Eddie breaks away, his eagerness is plain in the panting of his breath, the quivering of his arms when you draw your fingertips down his biceps, feeling the hot skin there. “That’s my turtle dove,” he hushes against your mouth, and he sounds so proud and pleased with you that you can’t help but whimper. 

Despite his eagerness, Eddie is careful when he climbs off of you to settle at your side, pulling you against him and turning you in his grasp so your back is to his front. Your head falls to the soft down pillow as you feel him work your nightgown up your body, pulling the fabric from where it’s wedged between you. There is the slightest relief from the humidity as your legs, then your hip, then your intimate places are exposed to the air, but you rush even hotter when Eddie’s lips find the shell of your ear so he can murmur, “Spread your legs for me, y/n.” 

Trembling, you lift your knee, and his fingers catch against the plush of your thigh, pulling it back over his hip. He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your eye. “That’s it; good girl.” 

Your breath shudders in your chest as Eddie’s fingers leave your thigh; you throb with anticipation as they ghost over your hip and tummy before dragging through the soft curls covering your mound. “Tell me when it feels the best,” Eddie whispers, resting the side of his temple on top of yours. The weight of his head is grounding as he begins to explore you slowly with one finger, dragging up and down with no apparent pattern to his movements. 

As the moments pass, you relax in his grip, settling into the feeling of his finger dragging through your folds. He doesn’t seem to intend to put them inside you, and what he’s doing feels quite nice, pleasant, almost soothing. The crook of Eddie’s elbow rests against the curve of your ribs, and as your eyes slip closed, you seek his arm with your palm, stroking softly down to his wrist as it moves slowly between your legs—

You jolt as he grazes against something that makes pleasure fizz in a sudden burst, leaving your belly feeling hotter, tighter. As your hips jump, Eddie pauses, his breath catching as he tries to replicate what he’d just done. When it happens again— when pleasure sparks suddenly so might brighter than anywhere else— Eddie’s arm tightens excitedly around your side. 

“S’that it?” his voice is a little too loud in his excitement, and you tightly clutch his wrist. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, though the urgency hasn’t left his voice. “That’s it, though, isn’t it? Feels better when I touch you there?”

“Yeah,” you reply, voice small and needy. Eddie dips his hand to draw a sloppy circle briefly around your entrance before returning to the apex of your heat— that place that had tingled when he licked you on the creekbed, you now realize, though the thought hadn’t crossed your mind until you felt that pleasure again. When he presses against it again, his fingertip glides much more smoothly now; it felt good before, but now it feels even better. 

Eddie continues moving his finger slowly and lightly at first as he waits for your reaction, but when you don’t tense or pull away, his actions become more confident. Your pleasure builds under his careful ministrations; he works you slowly but steadily up into a frenzy of heaving breasts, muffled whines, and writhing hips. You begin to arch your ass back against him, grinding slowly, your tender skin dragging against the soft cotton of his pants until you find that stiffness like a brand against your cheek. You press hard against it, rolling your hips only a few times before Eddie grunts and pulls his hand from between your legs, shifting back away from you. 

You know what comes next as you hear the rustling of his clothing; you take the opportunity to catch your breath as he works himself out of his pants, but the wind leaves you just as quickly when he presses back up against you, hard and silky smooth as he guides himself blindly, bumping against your wet, puffy lips. Suddenly overwhelmed with need, you lift your leg higher, whimpering breathily as you reach down between your legs in an attempt to help him. “Fuck’n… c’mon,” Eddie hisses, nudging first too high, then too low, and then— 

Then he sinks right in.

It’s the easiest glide, the sweetest stretch, and simultaneously you and Eddie moan as he slides all the way home. “Oh, baby, baby,” he pants desperately against your cheek, “fuck, that’s… oh, my God—”

You reach up over your shoulder to bury your fingers in his curls, and when he pulses inside you, your breath hitches with the force of your desire, your overwhelming need to have him move. “Eddie, please…” you whine, nearly beside yourself, and his hand clamps to your hip like a vice, holding you still as he pulls out and pushes right back in.

You sag with relief as he wastes no time in beginning to fuck you, splitting you open so deliciously on his cock. Eddie pounds you over and over again like he had those times before, but what you don’t anticipate is how that hand on your hip slinks down between your legs again. 

You strangle your cry in your throat as he finds that spot so easily as if he’d been drawn to it. You whimper through clamped lips as quietly as you can as Eddie presses tight little circles to your bud, pumping into you from behind. Your fingers wrench from his curls to clamp instead around his forearm; the tendons roll under your fingers rhythmically, and your pleasure begins to build so rapidly it’s nearly frightening. 

"That's it, baby,” Eddie encourages you, “You feelin’ good?" 

You nod frantically; something is tightening inside you, growing more than it ever has. "Gonna keep goin' til I get you there," Eddie promises breathlessly, panting out the words between his thrusts. "Don't care how long it takes. I got you, sweetheart. Want you to have a fit." 

"Eddie," you whine quietly, dumbly; only his name can spill from your lips now. "Ed, E-Eddie, Eddie—" 

Your pathetic sounds drive him to fuck you faster, and as he does, your pleasure tightens further, burning hotter, throbbing more and more until the urge to cry out overwhelms you. 

Abruptly, you curl your shoulders forward away from him, snatching up the pillow and burying your face in the soft down to muffle the sound of your moans. 

 You’re still connected where it matters, though Eddie pauses in his movements when you draw away before he realizes what you’re doing. Your sweaty back is exposed to the air for only a moment before he’s following you, unwilling to tolerate any distance— his chin hooks around your shoulder as his hips rut against your ass and his fingers press circles into your clit. 

  "Bein' so good for me,” Eddie rasps in your ear, “using your pillow to keep yourself quiet so your parents don't hear the way I'm fuckin' you in your bed." 

Your moans turn to quiet cries now, rhythmic and constant as your legs squeeze closed around his wrist. And he doesn’t falter; through the plush of your thighs, Eddie fucks you determinedly, thrusting into your fluttering pussy as you gasp and cry raggedly into your pillow. "My girl,” he moans. “They can't take you from me. No one can." 

As that feeling builds and grows, instinct in your body takes over, guiding you where it wants to go. Mindlessly, you begin to grind back on Eddie’s cock, rolling your hips; he pulls his wrist from between your legs, holding onto your hip as he matches the rhythm of your movements. Almost desperately, Eddie drags his open mouth across your cheek, panting out his earnest desire for you. "Come on, turtle dove. That's it—" 

With a soft, hoarse cry, you finally spasm around him. 

The pleasure gapes like a yawn inside you before tightening and bursting outward in a tingling rush, flooding you with mindless euphoria. The intensity of the feeling would be truly frightening had Eddie not been right there behind you, holding you against the solid comfort of his body, whining into your hair. He pumps into you only a few more times before pulling out, and then you feel him spill against your flank. The warm spread of his spend paints your skin, the graze of his cockhead like a hot brand as he squeezes out every drop.

In the aftermath, there is a moment of dazed silence. The only sound that fills your humid bedroom is the chirp of the crickets and the rush of your breaths puffing in unison. When you’ve recovered enough, you break that silence to whisper emphatically, "Oh, Christ on a cracker, Ed, what in the hell was that?!" 

Eddie snorts before burying his face hastily into your neck, muffling his chuckles against your skin as your cheeks rush with embarrassment. “Well, don’t laugh at me,” you insist, heating more when he lifts his head and snatches you up by the chin, smacking a firm, playful kiss to your cheek. 

“You’re cute,” he murmurs, following up his kiss with two shorter ones before letting you go to wipe your hip off with the bottom of the shirt he’s still wearing. 

Your body thrums with contentment, but when the mattress shifts as Eddie climbs carefully down to pull his pants back on, the moment becomes tinged with melancholy. Your eyes track the vague shape of his body for a moment before you whisper, “I wish you could stay, Ed.”

For a moment, all you hear is a heavy sigh, one that leaks with the sadness you’re both beginning to feel. “Me too, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers back. “Can I lay with you, just for a little while?”

The question transforms your sadness into a sharp and poignant swelling— pleasant but painful all at once. “Of course.” You reach blind fingers in the direction of his neck, and Eddie ducks closer so you can draw them through his curls— no longer silky like they were the night of the dinner, yet beloved even more for their frizziness. “I’d really like you to.”

As you laze with Eddie above your bedcovers, tucking your cheek against the side of his chest, sleep begins to swallow the pain of knowing Eddie cannot stay. Only vaguely do you notice when the bed shifts and the warmth pressed to your side unsticks from your sweaty skin, both a relief and a loss; you feel the brush of lips against your forehead and your closed lids, featherlight and delicate; you hear the scuffle of Eddie climbing back out the window to scale the side of your blue roost and return to his red one next door.

Sleep swallows the pain of knowing Eddie cannot stay. But, though Eddie cannot stay, a part of him is always with you, and it has been for some time now. The evidence of your love is nestled safe inside your body; it is an inevitability ten years in the making, now ten days conceived.

You wake the following morning with an overwhelming desire to have Eddie in your mouth. 

Maybe it’s an odd urge to have so suddenly, but you suppose after your adventurousness last night, your curiosity to try new things must be piqued. You glance around your room, and the only evidence of Eddie’s visit is that your bedsheets more rumpled than usual, so you straighten them out before tying your housecoat around your body and wandering downstairs.

There you find Mama in the kitchen, who is busying herself with the stove until she notices you’re awake. “Morning!” Your greeting is chipper, and she returns your greeting with a smile. As you breakfast together, all feels usual aside from the absence of Pa at the table; she explains that he’s been speaking with a rancher some towns over about possibly purchasing a new horse. You flash with worry, but she soothes it with a pat of her hand atop yours. “Don’t fret. We’re not replacin’ Guinnie, silly girl,” she huffs with some amusement. “We all know that Pa might’ve bought her, but that’s your horse. I told him it’s high time to get one of his own.”

You sag with visible relief, and Mama’s huff turns to a chuckle. “I’m goin’ into town this morning to pick up some things,” she tells you. “You wanna tag along?”

You open your mouth to say yes, but falter as your belly burns with the sudden realization of this opportunity— Pa gone, Mama in town, Eddie just beyond the fence with the stump in between.

“I was actually thinkin’ I could work on my embroidery this morning,” you reply instead. “Finish the hoop for Mr. Munson, maybe.” You smile innocently. “Then I can start on my 4H hoop!”

There’s no reason for Mama to doubt your sincerity, so she doesn’t. And when, an hour later, you wave your embroidery hoop high in the air from your rocking chair as she sets off down the road, she doesn’t question the call of the turtle dove, nor the cackle of the crow that answers.

The hay in the barn loft is soft under your knees, providing a pleasant cushion while you satisfy your desire with kitten licks along the fat head of Eddie’s cock, kneeling between his spread legs. He tastes as you would expect, though you’d only been thinking about the taste for half a morning. It’s salty, a little musky from the heat, the same way his dark curls smell. Occasionally, beads of liquid shine at the tiny slit at the tip, and when you lick them up, they’re more bitter than the rest. Not pleasant, but not unpleasant either, and the sounds Eddie’s making for you right now more than compensate for it.

When you flick your tongue against that dribbling slit, his breath hitches; when you lick a fat stripe up the underside of his cock, he moans. And when you swallow him down, engulfing him in the wet heat of your eager mouth, he gasps some strangled sound that makes you giggle around him.

Eddie’s hips jolt and squirm when you do, and your eyes pop open to find him looking nearly pained. “F— oh, f— shit,” Eddie finally settles on, and you would smile if you weren’t so full of him right now. 

You’ve been exploring him in this new way for a little while, so your curiosity has nearly been sated. Nearly, because you have one thing yet to taste— his seed. And you really want to know what it will feel like to have him spill onto your tongue, to have that hot flesh jerk and pulse within you, to have him feeling just as good as he made you feel yesterday.

So you begin to bob your head, sloppily at first, uneven until you figure out the right angle that keeps your teeth from grazing him and making him hiss. You hum apologetically around him, and his plush lips fall open as you take him a little further while making that sound. Eddie’s cheeks are flushed prettily, his hair like dark ink spilled across the hay as he moans for you. “Shit, baby, that feels so fuckin’ good.”

You rush with satisfaction, growing more enthusiastic as you bob faster, grasping the base to hold him upright so he doesn’t flop around so much. “That’s it,” Eddie pants, “That’s— oh—”

His hand finds the side of your head— not moving you, just resting there as you work him with your mouth and tongue, like he wants to feel the way you’re doting on him. You ignore the soreness in your jaw when his panting gets heavier, and your gaze flashes up to lock on his face— eyes hazy, brow pinched, skin flushed down his neck as he gasps, “Don’t stop, I’m… I’m gonna—”

You moan when he moans, and as you do, Eddie’s cock kicks within the wet heat of your mouth, spilling his seed. It’s thick and tangy, warm but not hot as it spurts to coat your tongue, and you wait motionlessly until the jerking subsides and his fingers relax against your hair. 

Pulling off is a little sloppier than you anticipate, and you chuckle as some of his release leaks before you can fully close your mouth. You catch it with a hasty palm, meeting Eddie’s fond, dazed smile with one of your own, albeit closed-lipped on account of your mouth being occupied. 

As you swallow him down, using your other hand to wipe your bottom lip, you hear the subtle creak of wood below you.

Your only thought is that you don’t want to look. But whether you look or not, it does not change who waits for you beyond the ledge of the hayloft. It was with a perverse sense of satisfaction that you’d imagined Pa’s face would turn purple at the sight of you with Eddie, but you knew, were it to actually occur, that the horror you would feel would leave you reeling.

Instead, you’re greeted with the sight of Mama’s features. They are pallid, so contorted with the force of her seething rage as to be near unrecognizable, and somehow, that is worse.

#blueywrites #td&tc #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #farmer!eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

[devskindawritingblog]

Okay, I have a couple of Christmas-themed Yellowjackets requests for you! The first one is for Nat. She has a fight with her dad and runs to Reader's house to see them, but because her shitty dad never celebrates she forgets that it's Christmas Eve/day (you decide). She's really embarrassed and she tries to leave again, but Reader invites her in to spend Christmas with their family. Could also have an awkward "meeting the parents" scene before Nat and Reader get to be alone together.

My second request is for our favorite Van! It's Van and Reader's first Christmas together as a couple, and they're exchanging gifts. Van gets Reader a gag gift (ofc) and it's a Vans hoodie (the shoe brand) because it looks like it says "Van's". She originally thought it was funny but gets really shy in the moment, but Reader absolutely adores it and showers her with kisses. Then maybe Van takes Reader to the team Christmas party and they wear it and Van is annoyingly smug about it/grinning and blushing the whole time. (I'm going to have a scene in my TaiVan fic where Tai finds out that Reader's already had this gift from Van, but I think the initial gift-giving would be really cute, especially when she's a teen, and I know you would bring it to life beautifully!)

Sorry for the really long ask, I just got so excited when I saw you were taking more requests! I love your writing and I can't wait to see what you do with these ideas! Thank you for sharing your work!🥰

Thanks for the long request , I really liked the Nat one well and the Van one. So I’m gonna do both.

Unexpected Christmas

Natalie scatorccio x reader

AN: I did my best with the request. I hope I did it justice. I just decided to make a simple family I didn’t want to make it to intricate . Also I know it’s 1996 but I decided to make the parents accepting. It was supposed to be nice and sweet and I didn’t want to make it about homophobia. Because that wasn’t that the request was about .I wanted it to be happy. Natalie’s text is in blue. I fear nat is ooc but I don’t know .

word count : around 1.4k

Nat didn’t know where she was going; all she knew was that she had to go anywhere else. She had another awful fight with her father. Something about her being ungrateful. She had started to learn to just tune out all his yelling. It got to the point where she couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed her leather jacket and left, bearing the cold weather of Christmas Eve. 

Nat walks through the snow and cold. And she gets an idea. The only place she knows she will be safe is with you. She makes her way to your house, picking up her pace as the temperature cools.

As you and your mom set the table, the faint sound of Christmas music plays in the background. It’s a lovely, peaceful night-your annual Christmas Eve dinner with your parents. Your father is finishing up the food in the kitchen. It's all calm and cheerful.

*Knock Knock*

You and your mother both turn to look at the front door. You place the last plate down and walk over to the front door. You're greeted by a red-flushed Natalie, the snowflakes easy to see littered in her brown hair.

Your eyes widen in surprise, definitely not knowing she would turn up unexpectedly. She clearly walked a while to get to your house.

“Nat? What's wrong?” you say, pulling her into a hug. You know quite a bit about her dad’s issues and start thinking the worst.

“I-Im ok.” she says, her voice breaking as she shivers. “Really, please don’t worry, I’m ok; it’s just my dad being an asshole again.” she says, shooting you a small, reassuring smile. You bring her in, take off her coat, and shut the door, as your parents get curious and make their way over to the front door. You turn around, and your parents are standing in the doorway.

“Um, who's this? I didn’t know we had visitors”Your mother says.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I’m intruding” Nat says as she tries to put her coat back on.

“No, please don’t go, Natty; we're having Christmas Eve dinner; you're welcome to stay. “You say as you tug on her arm, giving her a small smile. You get a little closer and lower your voice. “And I really want to tell them about us tonight and if you were here, it would make it so much better.”

“I didn't know it was Christmas Eve; I’ve never celebrated it before.” Nat says hesitantly, not wanting to intrude.

“ See! Even the more reason to stay’’

“ Fine, I'll stay.” Natalie smiles at you and looks over at your parents before she lets you take her coat.

“Uh, mom and dad, this is Natalie; she's on the soccer team with me;can she stay for dinner?” You ask momentarily, lying to them, to at least get Natalie warm and comfortable in your house before you tell them the truth.

Your parents invite her to stay. They trust you, and Natalie looks like she had been freezing. They don’t want to lock a teenage girl out on Christmas Eve so they let her stay. The warm coziness of your home makes her feel 100 times better than she was twenty minutes ago.

All four of you make your way over to the set dinner table, and you go into the kitchen to get another plate and cutlery for her. All four of you sit down together. You and Natalie are next to one another, and your parents are across from you. The night proceeds well. Natalie is quieter than her usual self, and you almost laugh a little when your mom makes a comment about how Natalie seems like a nice girl and a good influence. She seems like she is having a good time having an actual holiday meal.

After everyone finishes eating, you take Nat's hand underneath the table, giving her a little squeeze to signal her. You sit up and smile at your parents. “Um, I've been wanting to tell you guys about something that I've wanted to say for a while.” Your dad nods non-verbally telling you to keep going. “So I was talking about how I said I’m seeing someone, and I was going to introduce them to you when I'm ready.” Both your parents look back at you, urging you to keep going.

“Well, me and Natalie are dating.” you say, slowly trying to gauge their reactions as you look over at Natalie to check on how she is doing. 

You nervously look back at your parents. “Really? That's lovely.” your mother smiles as she gets up to hug you. You're shocked that your parents don’t mind, but they have always been loving and trusting. Your father comes over as well, hugging you. He goes over to Nat and shakes her hand. You laugh a little at Natalie's face. It's a mix of nervousness and happiness all in one. You can tell she is nervous around your father and how he would react. She has had a complicated relationship with her dad, and seeing your dad being nice makes her feel so much better.

The four of you have a nice little talk. You get the whole "be safe” talk, and finally you drag Natalie up to your room to “show her your room.” You open up the door, pulling Nat in by the hand. You close the door behind you, and Nat wanders around your room, checking out your posters and little trinkets.

“How are you feeling, Natty?” You smile, ruffling her hair, as you lay down on your bed with her.

She smiles back. “Good, I'm glad your parents aren't assholes.” She jokes, but you know deep down she wishes her parents actually cared about her. 

You give her a small kiss on the nose, making her nose scrunch up. You laugh a little and sit up quickly, going over to your closet to grab something. “Close your eyes” you say, grabbing something and holding it behind your back.

“A gift? You know I hate gifts.” Natalie says, closing her eyes, even if she protests.

“Just shut up and let me do something for you.” You say walking over to her and giving her another kiss. “Okay, open your eyes.” you say as you pass her a homemade stocking with her name on it. You smile and sit down next to her. It's hard to know if she likes it or if she thinks it's cheesy because she hasn't said a single word. She just stares at it, taking it all in.

She turns to look at you as tears well up in her eyes. Your eyes widen a little, worried if she is okay or not. “I know my knitting is bad, but I didn't know you'd cry.” You say, hugging her close as you rub her back. She laughs through her tears as a small smile grazes her lips. “It’s not that. It's wonderful. It's the nicest thing I’ve ever gotten. My dad hates Christmas; he never lets us do anything; this is so nice.” She says as her tears start back up again.

Both of you lay there on your bed in a comfortable silence as you run your fingers through her hair. Natalie reaches into her back pocket and pulls out a little bracelet with your name on it.

“So I found my old beads, and I had enough to spell your name.”

“I was going to surprise you with it on our anniversary; I kind of forgot it was in my pocket until I sat down. I know it's small, and you made me a whole stocking, but-” You cut her off by kissing her, and she quickly takes the hint. 

“I love it, Natty; its the best gift I got.”

You both lay in your bed cuddled together, falling asleep to the sound of a Christmas movie playing in the background. It was both of your best Christmas ever.

#yellowjackets x reader #christmas headcannons #yellowjackets christmas #Natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

[jasscheeks]

bully ; suna rintarou

pairings: suna x f!reader

just a week before the events in the locker room, the miya’s accompanied by suna decide to crash at your place this saturday. when suna decides to pay you a visit upstairs, unexpected things begin to unfold before the two of you.

warnings: fluffy! one more part to go! this is the confession that was hinted at in the first chapter

i advise reading the first part if you haven’t already. linked down below! ⬇️

both part one and two on my ao3! chrxllx

thank you for reading!! reblogs help!!

masterlist!

<- previous part | next part ->

his hands held onto your waist, pulling you in closer to his body as those sweet lips of his kissed yours. his body melded with yours as you stood between his legs, your back pressed against the cold steel of the locker behind you. you were already fully aware of how this would end, the tension had already built itself up to a point of no return, once you both started you found it was near impossible to stop. as you were both just crammed against each other in that locker, his second confession was what really set it off.

although, something was different about him. the way he moved, the way he held you and kissed you, he was treating you so delicately but still held onto you so tightly. his touch felt firm, his resolve being stronger than ever, it was almost like he believed you'd slip from his hands if he even thought about letting go.

as if that wasn't enough, you couldn't stop your hands that tracked around his neck to tug gently at the brown tufts of hair on his head. he groaned into your mouth, his eyebrows furrowing as he kissed you harder. but instead, he backed away and stared into your eyes as the both of you caught your breath. his eyes were clouded with a haze, his pupils dilated and his cheeks flushed pink. the look in his eyes filled with a desire to simply have you in his arms.

taking one more breath, he ducked into your neck, sucking along your tender skin. he knew he was leaving marks along your skin, but he could care less. but even if he didn't care, you sure did. just thinking about the conversation you'd have to have with your parents when you come home with what looks to be a hickey, it sends a weight down to the pit of your stomach. you'd rather to never have a conversation like that with your parents, and especially not now.

you pushed on his shoulders, gently, "rin, not-…not there..." although you protested, you couldn't help but whimper as he hiked your leg up over his hip, his hand squeezing your thigh, grabbing whatever part of skin he could hold onto. "rin, we have to stop..." you whispered, your voice coming off so delicate to suna's ears. so slowly, he backed away, eyes meeting yours one more time.

your hands rested on his shoulders, slowly sliding down to hold onto his jacket. he let go of your leg, his hand retreating to meet your waist once more. that's when you realized just how fast his heart was beating, it practically was beating out of his chest. you observed how red his cheeks were and how his gaze slowly drifted away from yours, almost like he was avoiding your eyes.

"does that answer your question?" he turned back to you, the answer so clear in his eyes. his hand caressed the side of your face, delicately grazing his fingers along your skin. he wanted to say it, he wanted to blurt it out, shout a million times until everyone in the world knew how much he wanted to be with you. but with a sigh, he shook his head and backed away.

you were a spy for the time being. watchful eyes preying down at the three boys that lounged about on the couch, manspreading and drinking you out of house and home. their eyes were glued to the tv screen, a rerun of some college volleyball game played by some team you wouldn't be able to name. it amazes you how comfy they made themselves in your own home, they practically did it better than you.

this wasn't the first time those two insufferable twins had trudged their stinky bodies to your house to "relieve stress." you knew it was a lie, they just wanted to help themselves to your vast selection of snacks. it was already enough to have the two of them, but let alone a third, and him being none other than suna rintarou, the boy who just thrived off picking on you.

stealing your things, flicking your forehead, and calling you names, the list can go on. your childish habits dating all the way back to the first year of middle school to the present. he loved to see the angry look on your face, you could tell. the way his eyes glowed and his lips curled into that arrogant smile when the two of you argued, he enjoyed making you angry. you thought he'd grow up, you thought he'd at least mature from middle school, but he hopped back into his old ways these past two years of high school. from day one, he was intent on becoming your worst enemy. and here he was lounging about on your couch, pretending like he doesn't bully you at every second of every school day.

"enjoying the view, (y/n)?" upon atsumu spotting you looking down at them from the railing, the rest of them craned their necks up to look at you. you could see that familiar glint in suna's eyes again like he found his target to mess with.

but today you were not in the mood for suna's incessant teasing, neither were you in the mood to listen to osamu and atsumu agree with each other on everything the other said. "you three need to get out of my house, i didn't ask for your company," you narrowed your eyes down at them, your hands gripping at the wooden rail. "clean up your mess and leave."

"so not fair," he whined, dragging his words out as he threw his head back to lean on the couch, his eyes still trained on you. "we just got here?"

"your house has all the good food, we're just helping ya' clean your pantry out," osamu chipped in, tone sounding just as teasing as his brothers.

"come down here! it's the weekend, shouldn't we spend it together as second years," atsumu called, the cheesy and taunting sound in his voice coming forth. you refused to go down, especially with suna there, you'd rather have a non-irritable saturday.

you huffed at them, giving them all a shared amount of the stink eye. you were close to going off at them, but knowing them it was only going to go in one ear and out the other. "it's bad enough that i have to deal with you two, and you brought that thing along with you, he's contaminating my couch," you spat, harsh words aiming straight for the lazy face that smirked at you.

"aww, i'm your thing now? that's a new one," he fake gushed, staring at you with that deadpan that made your stomach churn.

you began to retreat to your room, "get out." shooting one more glare his way you headed back into your room, and away from the freeloading pricks that resided on your couch.

yeah, it was the weekend, but today you wanted to spend your time alone, just to give yourself some space from hanging around the miya's for weeks on end. your parents weren’t home, away for their day shifts, but if they were home, three boys wouldn’t be lounging about on their couch.

as busy as the twins were in the afternoons, they always made time to pester you during the day so you could get your daily dose of the miya twins. and quite frankly you were exhausted.

but most of all, you were tired of suna. it was bad enough that he was always teasing you during school, and it's even worse that you have to see him after school hours. you figured his teasing methods were getting worse seeing as he always seemed to know where you were and where to find you. and in your mind, he was just a childish nuisance that had no grasp on the concept of personal space.

you continued to tap away at your phone, maybe then you'd get that stupid image of suna's smile out of your head. but as you heard someone knocking at your door, you were quick to groan. "i swear to god 'tsumu if that's you!" you yelled, watching as the door crept open to reveal something even worse than atsumu.

"you're in luck cause it's just me, sweetheart," suna's voice filled the room as he walked inside your room. "you call him ‘tsumu? wonder what nickname you have for me…” he commented, taunting you as he looked around your room and basically invited himself inside.

your heart felt like it was going to stop as he began to snoop around your dresser, quickly making himself acquainted with the little trinkets you kept laying around. quickly, you stumbled off your bed just in time to grab something he was going to pick up. "no, no, no, why are you in here?" you asked coldly, eyes trained on him. "leave right now while i'm still asking nicely,"

but even if your glare burned holes through his face and your tone was something far from chipper, “that already doesn’t sound too nice, you know?” he snickered, eyes meeting yours before he pointed towards the comb in your hands. "and is this your way of saying you want to do my hair?" he snorted before moving onto the next thing that resided in your room. "i'll pass." you couldn't help but blush, your face heating up significantly as you placed the comb back in its original spot. he had this innate talent of making you feel embarrassed about things you shouldn't be. and honestly you wished he’d just put a sock in his big, fat mouth(your words, not mine).

shaking off the minor setback, you tried to keep your composure as he stared at your collection of souvenirs. instead of taking them—the first try proving to embarrass to no end—, you crossed your arms and huffed. "can you just leave? those twins might follow you in here," you glanced to the wide-open door, “it’s already bad enough that you’re in here,” the sounds of an intense volleyball game coming from downstairs.

he scoffed, looking at you through your vanity's mirror but still messing about your souvenirs. "pfft where's the fun in leaving?" he snickered once more, flipping a manual lava lamp you got from florida. "those two down there are gonna be glued to the couch, the game just started picking up. and besides," he looked at you head-on, wagging your american souvenir keychain in your face, "exploring your room sounds more fun."

you snatched the chain from his hands to which he snorted, whispering something underneath his breath. although, it sounded like he wasn't quiet enough. your attentive ears picked up on something and you could've sworn your heart skipped a beat at the thought. if you weren't mistaken, you swore suna had called you cute underneath his breath. the mere sound falling from his lips, mind you it was none other than suna rintarou's lips, had your stomach churning, heart flittering, and mind wandering for the clouds. but he just simply spun around, whirring throughout your room while probing and fiddling with things with a nosy finger. he had glossed over the entire thing like he hadn't said a thing.

"wait...say that again?" you asked, feet anxiously following him. he shrugged, picking up a bottle of perfume and examining it for a little before putting it back down.

"say what? i say a lot of things, (y/n)…what's this?" he twisted around, not once sparing you a glance as he studied an old jewelry box of yours. he then opened the top of it, revealing a ballerina spinning slowly in a circle, a soft melody playing as it spun. "would you look at that...(l/n) can be cute," he sarcastically gasped, snickering to himself before closing the pink box, and whirring off to another corner of your room.

there it was again. you were sure he was just teasing, another one of his incessant games. he often played a game of goose with you, he wanted you to catch him in the act before he stopped, but the trick is, he never does. "don't act like i didn't hear you that time," and frankly you didn't quite favor the game. "you should be leaving now, come on. out the door." you pointed behind you.

he turned to you, a hand over his chest, feigning hurt as he leaned on a clothing rack you had set up. "you want me to leave that bad? but i want to stay," he stared down at you with those piercing hazel eyes of his, looking straight through your gaze as the pout on his lips faded. "i meant the jewelry box was cute, don't get too excited now little (y/n)," he looked away, leaning his back on the thick metal bar behind him.

you rolled your eyes, "you can leave now, i don't need you taking up any more space now," you turned to walk away, your arms crossing over your chest. but before you could leave in front of him, his hands met your waist. pulling you in swiftly, he spun you around to face him once again. the look on your face was picture perfect in suna's eyes, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as you gaped at him. if only he had his phone to capture the moment. you were frozen in his hold, as still as a statue, but you couldn't help but like the warmth that emanated from his hands.

"well, what if i don't want to leave?" he muttered, eyes staring into yours a little too deeply.

you couldn't say anything snarky in response, nothing cared to roll from your lips but a shaken, "...huh?"

there was that smile that for some odd reason made your heart leap at this moment. that smirk that made your insides melt and your brains turn to mush. maybe it was the circumstances you two were in, but with his hands at your hips, his thumbs absentmindedly drawing circles on your bones, you could've sworn you felt your heart skip a beat. you thought you caught a glance of him looking at your lips, a look of absolute desire in his eyes. he couldn't possibly want to kiss you, right? people who bully you wouldn't want to kiss you. but when you felt something soft reach your lips, the touch going just as fast as it came, your suspicions became a reality.

looking at him, he simply stared into your eyes, just as shocked as you were, maybe even less. you were never good at guessing what he was thinking but seeing that look on his face, you had an idea what was going on in his mind. and when he leaned back in again, this time you found yourself leaning in too.

you never thought you'd be in this predicament, making out with suna rintarou in your bedroom. but here you were, fingers laced through his hair, the two of you sharing the same breath as you pressed into his body. if your parents were home to see a sight like this, suna would be running home.

he was surprisingly warm against your lips, the sensation flowing throughout your body like fireworks. his hands held your waist as he tilted his head up, leaning farther into you, then ultimately making the two of you stumble back as he stood up straight.

leading him farther, you found your bed as he dipped you onto the soft sheets. his lips trailed down your chin towards your neck, leaving kisses all over your skin. you were beginning to become tipsy off of him, your eyes shut and small hums coming from your throat as you whispered his name. something you never realized fell off your tongue so velvety, the feeling of it making your entire being sick with desire.

you gasped as he bent your legs, leaving them at his sides as you absentmindedly closed in on him. he cursed to himself as he came back up to meet your lips, his kisses much more hungry, a fiend for more of you.

he mumbled something in between kisses, lowly murmuring your name as he tightened his grip on your waist, his fingers accidentally slipping underneath your shirt. it didn't take him long to figure out you'd frozen in your spot, eyes glued to him. he backed away, his eyes finding your shocked ones, the look on your face being purely still.

"what did you say?" your fingers that once were so tightly wrapped in his hair now found the sides of his face. he found himself leaning towards your touch, relishing in the calming sensation a little too much like a second home. but while you stared at him waiting for an answer, he just returned the stare, his eyes blank and searching for an answer of his own.

truly, he had no idea what to say. you weren't supposed to hear that, and he wasn't supposed to say it, not now at least. none of this was supposed to happen but he just couldn't help himself, you'd never been this close to him before. your plush lips talking to him in that terse tone he loved so much. that cute scowl on your lips even as you tried to look intimidating, but really you looked as gentle as a mouse.

so instead, with memories of your cute angry look on his mind, he shrugged your way. "i say a lot of things, (y/n)," he teased as he leaned to one side of the bed, eyes trained on you. and just like he hoped you would, you exploded on him.

you narrowed your eyes at him as he stood up off of you, "how are you going to kiss me and then act like that?" you chided, as he helped you up. but he didn't say anything as he walked towards your vanity once again. he fixed his clothes and fixed his hair, his hands lingering for a second as he took the time to recall what just happened. "can't you just say something? at least explain what you mean,” you sighed, your arms crossing as you stared at him through the mirror.

you didn't expect him to meet your gaze, but seeing those hazel eyes look back at you made your heart flutter. as he took his hands out of his hair, he turned to gaze at you again. he was awfully quiet as he walked towards you, his hands reaching for your waist once again.

his hands scrunched the material on your shorts in his first, pulling you in with the fabric. "if you heard me, will you let me kiss you again?" he leaned in close, yourself moving in tune with him, just this time you were fully aware of it. once again, soft lips met yours, your hands tugging at his shirt for him to be closer, but he was moving away just as quick as he came.

you could feel the smile on his face as he pulled back, his eyes almost immediately looking down at your hands and back up at you with a taunting smile on his face. embarrassed, you let go of his shirt, your hands retreating to your sides. he snickered, making that frown he loved so much reappear on your lips. "yeah, i like you, (y/n), probably even more than before," he confessed, hands loosening from your shorts. his fixed your hair and clothes, the back of your head smooshed and your clothes tousled about.

"you don’t have to answer me now or tomorrow, but i’ll wait,” he flashing that heartthrob of grin your way, “i’ll wait for what you have to say, yeah? see you monday?" he cooed as he slowly pedaled back slowly to the door. his own body felt it was pushing against him to stay, to stay with you and hold you even longer. the closer he got to the door the more he wanted to stay.

you on the other hand couldn't think of anything snarky or anything sarcastic to say, your brain being complete mush. so instead you just nodded sheepishly. no matter how hard you tried, this dorky grin made it on your lips as you stared back at him. and the moment his entire body slinked out of the doorway, your knees gave out on you, flopping you back onto the bed behind you.

your body was tingling all over, especially your lips and waist. you placed your hands on your cheeks, feeling the hot flesh underneath your fingers, realizing that you just kissed suna rintarou three times!

his athletic build felt more firm than you thought it would, and his soft lips felt so plush against yours. his strong hands that pulled you in so close had also felt so warm and gentle against your skin. his hair—that was most definitely still disheveled when he left your room—felt so silky between your fingers, leaving your fingertips tingling.

a good question right about now would be, how are you going to face him on monday? no matter how good it felt, you were completely and utterly embarrassed. there's no way you could show your face on monday, he'd tease the living hell out of you. even if you did see him again, what are the chances that he'll pull you off somewhere to have a repeat of today, good enough for someone to catch the two of you? but even with these pressing questions, you figures you wouldn’t mind if he did all those things.

the mere thought of it made your heart race, and he wasn't even here to witness it. this can’t be happening, he was supposed to be your enemy, your bully. usually the victim wasn’t supposed to feel this way towards their bully. but mark your words, suna rintarou won't even get the chance to tease you about this. not now, and not ever.

then it finally hit you. did he just confess to you?

<- previous part | next part ->

#suna rintarou x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou #hq suna #haikyuu osamu #haikyuu atsumu #haikyuu!! ff #fanfiction #haikyuu!! #haikyuu suna #suna fluff

[doodledoesthing3]

Here’s my fanfic! It’s about Macaque and the Lady Bone Demon’s hostess named Bei Da and their ‘wacky’ adventures while trying to find her cat named Buddy.

This fanfic also has a Spotify playlist! It’s great to listen to it while reading the fanfic or (if you want) to make some good ol’ animatics! I tend to listen to it while writing the chapters and such.

Here’s my Side Order playthough if you wanna see me spiral into madness over a Squid game dlc: https://www.tumblr.com/doodledoesthing3/743266619074199552/put-the-shades-back-on-acht-i-did-it-i

There’s Fluff, Angst, Shadowpeaches (Macaque X Wukong), Spicynoodles (Red Son X MK), and LunarTides (Sandy X Macaque)! Some characters that are from the Lego Sets will appear like Savage, Rumble, and ... .--. .. -. -.. .-. .- -..- . The narrator tends to be a fan favorite because they tend to break the fourth wall 😅

Now let’s get to meet one of the main characters, Bei Da!

Bei Da was LBD’s host and was wandering the alleyways after the events of the S3 Specials. She has a cat named Buddy, but she lost him on the night when she got possessed by LBD. So now she’s on a quest to find him! But she’ll have to face some unwanted obstacles to be able to get him back though. Will she get her cat back or will she unravel some dark secrets that she never wanted the answers to? Now let’s get into her likes and dislikes!

Bei Da likes: swears, cats, pink, warmth, Macaque (her best friend!), Savage, Rumble, Chang’E (Macaque’s friend), food, M&Ms, and literally anything that her friends give her.

Bei Da dislikes: thunder, Lady Bone Demon, Not The Mayor, Sun Wukong, the Demon Bull family (DBK, Princess Iron Fan, and Red Son), her parents, being abandoned, Running Lady, literally anything cold, people that attempt to touch her without her consent (like hugs and stuff), and pistachio ice cream.

I used a base for the drawing down below, but feel free to color pick her color scheme! Now let’s see what she looks like.

She has black hair, two scars on both of her cheeks, another four scars on her hands (two on each side, two on her palms and two on the back for her hands), has brown eyes, is half Hispanic and half Asian (she only knows Chinese), and has dark skin. For clothes, she wears a pink headband, a beige jacket, white shirt, a pink skirt, some shoes with a black cat on it, and eventually gets some black fingerless gloves.

Phew! That was a lot of writing, eh? Anyways you guys should check out my fanfic whenever you guys have the time! I would love to see your fanart of my fanfic ☺️ bye for now!

#fanfic #lmk fanfiction #lego macaque #shadowpeach #spicynoodleshipping #lunar tides #lbd's host #wattpad #ao3 fanfic #lmk red son #lmk wukong #fictional characters #children #found family #Spotify #lmk:taomabd #side order playthrough #side order #splatoon side order

[whentheresmoonlight]

behind the scenes preview

I just wanna share a scene that I wrote in November 2021. The fic is years away, if it ever comes, but I like this scene a lot, so its worth posting even if the fic never comes to be.

Straight ahead: bkdk, fluff, rated g, talk of babies, an unexpected ship.

***

Twenty-eight was too young to have a baby.

Maybe the rest of society didn’t agree with that, but Katsuki could feel its truth in the way his heart thrummed against the plexiglass, the way his palms were sweating straight through his cotton sweatpants pockets. It was slick and slippery around the ring he pressed into his skin with his thumb. But Round Face had done it. Round Face and fucking Shitty Hair, of all people. And now a baby with the chubbiest cheeks Katsuki had ever seen was sleeping in the little well-baby nursery in the hospital. Cheeks for weeks, that kid had.

The new parents were resting, had been for nearly an hour now. Uraraka by doctor’s request, Kirishima by accident, though Katsuki supposed they’d both earned it. One more than the other, of course.

All their other idiot friends—the ones who’d been able to get off work, at least—were there, milling about the hospital as they were whenever any member of their gang landed themselves in there. Most had planted themselves in the same hallway as Katsuki, cooing at both the new Kirishima baby as well as all the other freshly baked spawn, sleeping or gazing unfocused up at the world with their innocent, googly eyes. This occasion, however, did go against precedent, as it was the first time someone was in the hospital for a good reason.

A good reason. Katsuki’s eyes tracked again to the chunkiest cheeks in the room. Thin wisps of black hair did little to cover his soft little skull, and, from what Katsuki had seen earlier, his eyes were still murky, not yet decided between brown or red or another color altogether. Still sleeping, so calm while all the occupants on Katsuki’s side of the plexiglass would be back to patrolling the streets in five to thirteen hours.

Izuku’s hair had been nearly black one time as a kid. Auntie Inko had been a little overly enthusiastic with the scissors and left most of Izuku’s green curls on the kitchen floor. For the next couple weeks, he’d been all eyes, eyes that were too big for his face without that ridiculously untamable hair. Not so different from the babies, whose eyes were glimmering with artificial light, trying to blink some understanding into it.

Katsuki’s mother had cut Izuku’s hair in the years after. His hair had remained green, green, green.

There was a baby in the corner, many bassinets over from Uraraka’s and Kirishima’s with yellow-green hair. Not the dew-soaked grass green of Izuku’s, but the overgrown grass of a dry field. A rice farm gone long without flooding. Green with an overtone of blond.

The thumping in his chest grew, he felt it all the way down to his clenched fists. Twenty-eight was so young for a hero. Still in their prime. No one from their class had retired yet, none, nor in Class B. What a ridiculous step it was for a hero to take. Truly, truly crazy—Katsuki had always known that Kirishima had hair for brains.

A rude word came to Katsuki’s tongue. An unnecessary announcement that he was out of there, that he was going to go for a damn walk, or something. But no one’s attention was on him. Why would it be, at a time like this? So, quietly, he backed away from the glass, and through the unfamiliar wing of the hospital.

It was Katsuki’s first time in the maternity ward, but he’d been in other wings of the hospital enough to have a general compass in him, guiding his feet in the vague directions of out and away.

He made it to a lounge that had a hanging TV that was muted with chunky subtitles taking up half of the screen. Beyond it was a large set of windows with a view of the city. Calm, as far as Katsuki could see—which wasn’t far, what with all the buildings. But there was no sign of agitation, anything a hero should be taking care of. He cracked his knuckles and kept his hands at chest level as he continued to eye the pedestrians from his vantage a couple floors above

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

Katsuki didn’t bother looking away from the cityscape. He’d know that voice ears plugged and body thrown underwater—but a phantasmic reflection of him was barely visible in the glass anyway. He should have known that there was always someone whose attention was on him.

Izuku took Katsuki’s left hand and spread his fingers, giving the wedding band a little twist. “Hmm, from the way you were fiddling with it, I thought there was something wrong with it.”

It was a stupid fucking habit, was what it was. The ring was finally starting to lose some of its newlywed shine after five years of marriage. Almost five. And half of that tarnish was from Katsuki twisting and tugging it like a cliché housewife, waiting for her husband to return from war. But his husband was right here, for once very much not at war or in battle of any kind.

He then stepped further into Katsuki’s line of sight, a big smile on his face behind the disposable mask. Different from his hero smile, mostly in the raise of his eyebrows, and not just because that was the part that Katsuki could see. There was mirth and teasing, an effort to draw a smile out of Katsuki. He didn’t, but he did twist his wrist so that Izuku’s hand was now in his, both falling by their sides.

“It’s fucking weird is what it is,” Katsuki said, his voice quiet enough that it wouldn’t reach any of the other people who’d been drawn to this place for whatever unfortunate reason. “Heroes don’t have kids.”

“Some do,” Izuku replied immediately, even after all these years, wholly unable to hold back precise hero knowledge. “Remember babysitting Rock Lock’s son?”

Did Katsuki ever. After Toogota’s class graduated, the newly minted 2-A had become the go-to class for brat corralling, what with Eri continuing to hang off of Aizawa’s remaining leg like a goddamn insect baby. The kid’s quirk had just manifested and was freezing anything he touched in place. Apparently it was a good opportunity for the heroes-in-training to work on basic quirk counseling, another tool needed in their metaphorical toolkit.

It hadn’t been fun. The critter was so needy and so bad at saying what he needed and using his goddamn words. Nothing Katsuki could imagine anyone in their right mind ever choosing. But here someone from their group finally had, two someones. 

“It was hyperbole, dumbass.”

Izuku’s hand wrapped tighter around Katsuki’s, their wrists twisting so there was contact all the way up their arms. “Talk to me, Kacchan. Are you worried for them?”

Finally, Katsuki looked at his husband. His eyes took up less of his face now, despite the fact that his cheeks had slimmed down over the years. But when Katsuki blinked, he could still see a boy of all ages beneath Izuku’s civvies. 

“They’ll be fine,” Katsuki said gruffly, turning back to the window again. 

For a moment, there was silence, Izuku waiting, giving Katsuki the chance to say more. Katsuki never used to feel any pressure to fill silences, pointed or otherwise, but he didn’t like keeping things from Izuku. Never had, not really. Of all their problems, that had never been a root one.

Finally, quietly: “Is it something you think about?”

Izuku’s eyes were still on Katsuki—they were bright and shiny in his periphery. “Babies?”

“Children.”

“Hmm,” Izuku hummed, looking out the window with Katsuki. Their shoulders, though, drew ever closer, knocking deltoid against meaty deltoid. “I’m not sure. Maybe not so much. Just kind of vaguely. I don’t know, it seemed unlikely. Do you, Kacchan?”

“No,” he said, curt, clipped. “Maybe. Maybe now. I don’t know.”

“Together?”

Izuku’s voice was nearly a whisper, a sound he’d taken years to learn. Not his usual loud pronouncements or accidental mutterings, but a purposeful bit of privacy. Like all of their other forms of intimacy, it had grown over time.

Katsuki’s lip twitched and he hissed out a puff of air. “Dumbass.”

“There are ways people like us can do that now,” he murmured. “If that’s something we would want?”

Yes, they could, but should they? Already, at twenty-eight, Izuku was the most sought-out hero in Japan, and Katsuki was just behind him—they came as a matching set most of the time anyway. Their schedules didn’t always fit in sleep as it was and Katsuki had experienced nine months already of Kirishima fretting over every little thing that could go wrong with a hero having a child. The danger that a kid could be in just for that. Or the kind of parent a hero could turn out to be. Katsuki didn’t have to look farther than Endeavor or Shimura Nana for a front row seat to that shit show.

The signs pointed very clearly toward the logical answer, the empirically correct answer.

But Katsuki and Izuku had home videos of the two of them as soft little toddlers at their house. Katsuki had flipped through Auntie Inko’s photo albums and had the image of Izuku as a baby no bigger than Kouda’s pet rabbits emblazoned in his mind. The image of the brief period of Izuku holding Uraraka’s baby was fresh and squishable in his mind, tactile with how real that moment had been.

No one had more love in their heart than Izuku, and he would make the best dad. Katsuki wanted to see that, wanted the magic want to wave to make that happen.

Not now, God, not now. Not when it had only just begun to occur to him.

“Kacchan?”

Katsuki was clenching Izuku’s hands. Izuku was clenching right back.

“Yes,” he said, quietly, like it was barely true. But growing every second. “It is.”

#anjum writes #bkdk #honestly after writing all the way home i'm not sure i can write another bkdk baby fic #it was so hard to write since i really don't think they'd go for having kids #even in a fic where i made it their choice and sought after i don't think i'd buy it #but i'm so in love with the fic idea? #luckily them having kids wouldn't be till the sequel #so maybe i could still write the prequel #literally y'all if this fic ever comes out its YEARS away hahahaha #so maybe y'all can convince me that they'd want kids before that. please. #i already know that there are things in this scene that are wrong #there IS 1 class a student who's retired. guess who? #and the ages are super wrong lol bkdk have been married for a year-ish #but the rest...hopefully we'll find out one day 😅

[hopeforelvis]

Me and Elvis

PART 16

Pairings: Elvis Presley x reader

May 15th, 1968

You had just got back to your apartment after a long day at the Statesman. Your table was littered with bridal magazines as you walked in, tossing your bag onto the growing pile. As soon as you walk in the phone rings. It couldn't be Sam, you had just seen him. You answer happily. You were more happy...at least it seemed like it. You had gone through a spout of rehab for drinking and you were at the top of your game at your job and on the brink of a raise. "Future, Mrs. Brown speaking." You answer in a sing-songy voice and your smile immediately disappears as you hear him. His voice. "Hi y/n." He greets. "E-Elvis." You manage to stutter out. "Sorry for the unexpected call. I just...I wanted to check in. It's been awhile." He says. You nod as if he could see you, "Sure has." You agree. "How are you?" You bravely attempt to ask. "Good, Lisa's almost six months old." He says, hearing the smile in his voice. "I thought so. She looks cute." You comment with honesty. Their kid had nothing to do with your bitterness towards either parent. "And you...how is Sam? Has he told you about next month?" He asks and you furrow your eyebrows. "Next month?" You question. "I guess that's a no." He chuckles slightly making you chuckle as well for no reason for the fact that he did. He was always infectious that way. "What's happening next month?" You question, intrigued at where he was going with this. "I have a special airing on NBC. I want you to come....and Sam." He said. Elvis truly only wanted to see you, but he wouldn't dare go there unless you did. All he knew, was he missed you and he needed to talk with someone who used to be his best friend. "Oh, I don't know E. I have a lot going on." You say, and honestly you did, but in your heart you wanted to say yes. "Please. If you decide after this time not to ever see me again, then I'll oblige." He said. It's like you couldn't help but say yes to him. He still had a power over you after all these years. "Fine. Just this once. I'll talk to Sam." You agree. "Good, I'm glad." You can hear the happiness in his voice and once you hang up with one another both of you still continued to smile, your hearts deep down still fighting to be with one another.

June 27, 1968

You had flown out a day ahead. Sam was reluctant that you go, but you insisted and were pretty persuasive with your goodbye kiss. It was Joe though that picked you up in the crowded L.A airport and boy was he a sight for sore eyes. You missed the guys and he was one of your favorites. "Esposito!" You call out and run to give him a hug. "Lady, you just get more and more gorgeous. Elvis is going to have a trip when he sees you." He says and looks you up and down, making you feel confident in your tight red sweater dress and black strappy heels. "C'mon. He goes on in an hour and a half." He said and helped put your bags in Elvis' pink Cadillac. You smile to yourself, memories of the past filling your head. This trip was clearly going to be full of reminiscing. As you pulled into the parking lot you could see Elvis and Red standing outside the studio smoking. It looked like he popped something and then he took another drag. Same old Elvis. You thought to yourself. You stepped out and as you did Elvis turned and took in your appearance. His heart leapt in his throat as he observed how good you looked. You had always been beautiful, but was it possible you could look even more so? He knew as soon as you walked up that this is who he wanted to be by his side for one of his biggest performances since ending his film contracts. "Y/n!" He exclaimed and scooped you into a big hug. You peered back and took in Elvis as well. He was dressed in head to toe leather pants and a leather jacket, making you dizzy just looking at him, and his hair was slicked and styled back like the old days. "Wow, look at you Mr. Elvis Presley." You say and make it obvious that you checked him out and you did that indeed. His ass looked amazing in the leather pants and tanner than ever. "I missed you." He says and Red clears his throat. "What am I, chopped liver?" He exclaims, the cigarette hanging in the corner of his mouth. "Red West, you haven't changed a lick." You say and give him a hug, the cigarette smoke, engulfing you. "Come on in with me, I have to finish getting ready." Elvis said and took your hand, leading you inside and down a corridor to his dressing room that had a big yellow star with his name printed on it in white letters. "You've made it to the big league, huh E.P?" You observe as you walk in his room. It was filled with a few flower vases and a teddy bear. You go to the black couch and take a seat, Elvis following closely behind. "I really have missed you, y/n." He says and instinctively puts an arm around you as you both lounge in the couch. Your old feelings arise and you can't help but feel the tension built between you, you could almost touch it. "I know...but E. I'm engaged...and you're married...and a father at that." You say, practically reading his mind. He wants you badly, probably more than he expected. He also wanted to tell you about all his fights with Priscilla, but he didn't want to ruin things when you are just coming back into his life. "I know. I'm sorry." He looks down and you could tell how down he looked. I'll do anything for you. You think to yourself, but decide to keep it to yourself. "Elvis Presley, to the stage." The intercom came to life and you both stood up. "Thank you for being here." He said and took your hand, gently kissing it, making your heart race. "I wouldn't have missed it." You say and follow him to the stage, feeling a strange sense of deja vu, recalling the Frank Sinatra Show, what felt like a lifetime ago. Elvis looked at you once more and gave you a quick peck on the cheek before heading to the small square stage. You walked over to where Red and Joe had taken their place and look onward as Elvis took his place with the old Memphis Mafia guys. "Oh, hey...is Priscilla here...with Lisa?" You ask in order to prepare yourself for a run in with her. "No, they're in Memphis. She's rarely with him. Mostly home with the kid." Red said. "Heard they had another fight...was it bad?" Joe asked and Red elbowed him. I gave them both skeptical looks and then looked back towards the stage as Elvis started his set. He sounded powerful and as good as ever and he looked more alive. You looked on, watching in awe as your true best friend lived out his dream. As he performed, he caught sight of you, his heart swelling with happiness. You were here and he was able to finally perform. All was right with the world.

Elvis had convinced you to stick around longer and much to Sam's dismay, you did. You couldn't help yourself. You knew at some point Sam would even call off your wedding, but Elvis didn't need to know you were throwing away a marriage to be with him even if it was just as a supportive best friend. You both had feelings that were resurfacing. Question is, could things end up back the way they were?

PART 17

[safiyedurmaz]

Basics

Full Name: Safiye Nersin Durmaz-Howard

Birthday: 31st December 1987

Age: 35

Zodiac Sign: Capricorn

Religion: Her birth parents and adoptive parents don’t share a faith and, while predominantly raised catholic, Safiye doesn’t practice either currently. She believes there is something out there but she’s not quite sure on it

Religious Level (1-10): 5, Safie still attends church with her father when she visits home as well as at Easter and Christmas, but other than having her daughter Baptized, she doesn’t go in for it much these days

Birthplace:  Arundel Castle, West Sussex, England

Current Residence: Apartment in Kensington [x]

Height: 5’ 3″

Hair Color: Warm brown

Eye Color: Brown

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Love/Romantic Preference: Demiromantic

Relationship Status: Engaged

Languages Known: English, Turkish, conversational French, Spanish, Portuguese, Arabic and German

Details

Car: Lexus LS 500h in mesa red [x].She collects classic cars too, a hobby of her father’s that she’s picked up but she doesn’t keep them in London. They’re back in Sussex

Phone: iPhone 14 Pro in deep purple (1 TB). She found the max a little too big to use constantly

Music Genres: She’s got a bit of an eclectic taste, really prefers a strong beat, something to keep time to when walking [x]

Estimated Net Worth: £2.7 Million in personal wealth, but she got access to that family money too, both from her adoptive parents and being the sole heir to the Durmaz fortune

Accent: An interesting mix of received pronunciation with hints of her birth parent's accent slipping through

Bloodlines

Kiraz Durmaz née Kapanli || Mother || Deceased

Charlotte Howard née Carmichael, Duchess of Norfolk || Adoptive Mother || Alive

Aydin Durmaz || Father || Deceased

Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk || Adoptive Father || Alive

Yasemin Durmaz || Daughter || Alive

Levels

Drinking (1-10): 5 - a glass of wine to relax after work, champagne or something else at a party

Swearing: 3 - Safiye is careful and considered with her words, when she swears? That’s when you know things are getting to her

Smoking status: 4 - it's a bad habit, she knows, and she is trying to quit

Drugs: 2 - the occasional joint, anything stronger than that was left when she left university

Cooking proficiency: 7 - she doesn’t get to cook as often as she would like to, but she is an excellent cook, finds it relaxing

Intelligence: 9 - she’s very smart, but not as smart as she thinks herself to be

Emotional/Social Intelligence: 8 - knowing how to influence other people starts with knowing yourself in Safiye’s eyes

Creativity: 7 - she was a dancer in her youth, now it's all for creative schemes

Temper: 5 - she’s a very cool and controlled person most of the time, her anger tends to be that too, but when she gets tipped over the edge she’s liable to lash out in unexpected ways. She’s rarely got to that point, though

#𝐃. 𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐘𝐄 : safiye . ⧽ — — her lips suck forth my soul .

[writer-writer-pants-on-fire]

Mister Temptation (It’s the title in my notes)

Before reading, please know that I have no idea what I’m doing. I just started writing and this is the end result. Vague innuendos ahead.

Brown eyes glanced along the white granite counter tops at the large branches air-drying, the cave and extra pond tub still soaking in the sink. The blue-black splash reflecting off the granite surface onto the window, making her catch the water dragon behind her, claws against the glass surface looking back at her.

"I know, you want out." she sighed sipping on the green tea that had been simmering on the hot plate while she had been cleaning the branches. "Let me just get your basking perch on."

Moving off onto an area closer to where the wall of box plants was to the left, a wooden beam connecting to a hideaway with a rope hammock in the corner of the room. The wall usually for the cats to climb up away from the dog remained open, a common occurrence when cleaning the cage. A large heat lamp needed at least ten minutes to heat the basking temperature, while later than normal for the lizard to be awake, it's not even her bedtime yet.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, reading 9:34, she set down her mug and opened the cage door. Not moving all that much other than an offer to let the female dragon out. Her eyes met her outstretched arm before moving to the branch that crossed the space of the door. Just as she had moved her other arm to pick her up, the short sleeve--a reminder to grab a jacket first--made her move away, the door-bell ringing. Softly, shutting the doors for safety, she peaked into the eyehole as her jacket settled over her shoulder.

Her brows furrowed at the two people standing outside on her door.

Opening it she could tell, from the red flushed face, the man was drunk. The lady beside him, struggled to keep him from falling over. "Uh, hello?"

"I know this is an unexpected, but…um," her female guest tilted her head to the man who’s a foot taller than her. "he wouldn't agree to go home until he saw you."

"I--" she stood to the side, "Come in."

The man stumbled, reaching an arm out to her as his friend bypassed them to the pair of couches against the wall.

"Nice place."

"Christine." she sighed out, still very confused. "I know for a fact I never posted any kind of information upon my new address."

"He remembered your parent's place." she allowed him to plop down on the cushion, his short hair flaying down along his forehead. "They, uh, revealed your new one."

"Right." she pulled her phone from its charger on the end table, not noticing any new messages. "Guess I'll be calling tomorrow about that."

She took a look around while the home owner sent a quick message. "Nice place. Didn't know you liked reptiles."

"Last I remember, we weren't exactly close enough to really bond." she cringed upon her memories, "Especially my…attitude?" she questioned herself before moving back off to the enclosure. "during high school."

Christine pointed back to the slowly sobering man resting on her couch, "He really enjoyed your respect of not getting between his relationships."

"Versus what the other girls attempted to do?" the lizard climbed up her shoulder and rested itself along her shoulders. "You barely fit there; you know."

"How long have you had it?" her hands splayed on the island counter after the silent offer of sitting herself down.

"Three years, she's about 2 and a half. She'll potentially live up to fifteen years."

"That's quite a commitment."

"Speaking of commitments," she began, moving to let the lizard climb onto the basking branch. "why isn't he back home with his wife?"

"There's some conflict, and he had been out with friends drinking. Upon closing he didn't want to go home and I'd been called. He wouldn't leave otherwise."

"Okay." she drawled. "Want anything to drink? Water, tea, coffee, or cocoa?"

"Water, please." the glass got slid into her hand.

"What happened that you both are here?" she awoken her laptop that had her spending files on.

After a taking large gulp of the cold water, she set it down, an unusual bout of nerves made her tap her nails on the counter. "We were driving through Herron and Jon started rambling about what if's. How he never got the chance to date this other lady and that she kept appearing in his dreams despite being married."

"Doubt he'd been talking about me." muttering as she typed the store receipts into the spread sheet.

A frown fell on Christine's face, "He said, and I quote, I need to see how Lania is doing."

"Could be a different Lania."

Sticking her fingers into the cold water, she turned her fingers to Lania and flicked the water at her. "Jon?" she called after the other girl looked up. "Lania doesn't believe of your affections."

With a slight tilt of her head and a questioning furrow between her brows, she refocused her attention back at Jon, who'd just sat up, swaying slightly. "Imma marry her instead."

"Marry who?" Christine smirked at the startled gaze of Lania.

"Lania! You know, the sweet, empathetic, Lania. The one I'd been trying to get jealous in high school."

"What?" Lania whispered, fingers pausing above the keyboard.

"She didn't seem like she wanted a relationship at times, so I gen--genu-." he huffed a breath of frustration, pointer finger raised to them. "I made relationships instead. Then she turned around and gave me these eyes." he stood, somehow making his way to the other chair next to Christine. "They brightened every time I caught her staring at me. Like she was just happy to see me."

"Jonathan." Lania turned to him, "I--Maybe it'd be best if you returned to your wife."

"No." he whined, crossing his arms on the island and putting his head down. "I want a hug from Lania first." his eyes seemed to clear upon catching hers. "Your eyes are so pretty."

"They're brown, just like yours."

"Yours are better." he smiled, trying to lean closer over the counter where she sat.

Lania stood to get another glass, setting it down in front of him. The action causing him to settle back in his seat.

"You're still affected." Christine gasped. "Thirsting after another woman's man."

"I'm not blind Christi." with Jon sipping the glass, his eyes still trying to catch hers, she turned back to the file. "I'm also not a home wrecker."

She nodded, well aware of her old classmate's moral code on relationships. "Now you have a chance."

"He's still married and currently drunk." she muttered back.

"I want a hug." Jon spoke up suddenly, water half-way empty. "I'm not drunk."

"Heavily tipsy." she countered him, looking back as a grin appeared on Christi. "Whatever you're thinking, don't."

"He found you again. You know how much effort it's gonna take to get him to leave?"

"Then you should've taken him home."

She opened her mouth to respond--

"You're my home."

The both of them turned to Jon in shock.

"And, and, and my home doesn't want me." his brown eyes soften, "Your eyes are darker, calmer, but also guarded."

"You denying him?" she chuckled beside her.

"He's married."

"That's not a no." she tapped on her own phone screen to see a message. "It's obvious you still like him."

"If he was single again, maybe, also I require him to be sober for this conversation."

"Your attitude is better than high school now, you can actually talk to him."

"I've been living on my own for five years, I think I should be more mature compared to back then."

She typed a message on her phone again.

"Everything okay on your end?" she sighed, leaning farther away from Jon's reach, who then pouted at the distance.

"You know, we've been engaged before." Christi glanced between herself and the heavily tipsy guy beside her. "His wife is currently accusing me of cheating in her conflicted rage."

A sudden concern washed over Lania, "He's not…She's not abusive, is she?"

"No." she shook her head, through her training she seen the subtle stillness of her frame and the quick glance to the happy man. "With him drinking and their conflict, there's either possessiveness of some sort or distrust. I'm being accused of hiding him."

"That part is partially true." she frowned, feeling the appreciative gaze from Jon. She sighed, knowing she'll regret this. "Fine. He can stay for the night, and hopefully upon morning…"

"He's not quite tipsy enough to forget, not completely anyways."

The two stood from the chair, both ignoring the stare from the final person. Christi smiled upon being escorted to the door, "I'll be back tomorrow. Jon has my number."

"Anything special he'll want for the hangover?"

She thought about the question as she walked out the door, making Lania quite suspicious. "Just cuddles. Bye."

"Christine!" she called upon realization, bolting for her but she was already waving from the driver's seat and backing out the driveway.

Upon closing the door behind her and groaning, a hand appeared against the frame, turning around to find Jon staring down at her. His brown eyes trapped her gaze and he started to lean down.

She froze, imagining this once before but under different circumstances, "Nope." she whispered, having to turn to his right to get out of a potential mistake. Instead, she moved back to the island, pulling out large towels to set the cave and pond tub on for drying so she can have her sink back to manually wash the mug that held the now cold tea.

"Do you not like me?" he asked, seeming to find some sense and sit back down on the couch.

"You are not sober enough to be discussing this." she gave him a look. "Though I thought it had been quite obvious."

"You stopped posting updates." he turned his attention to the lizard, who matched his own gaze. "She looks like a guard dog."

Ignoring the side comment of her habits and the lizard, she checked the feeding schedule on the side of the fridge. "Of course." she sighed. Tomorrow, she had to run and get feeder fish, when she had to take care of a grown ass man, who she learned apparently still has a thing for her.

What had been her luck lately?

Turning to the time to notice that it was close to ten, she started to turn off the major lights and coaxed the spoiled brat off the branch, turning the light off in the process.

"She doesn't want to go to bed."

"Yeah, well, I do." she huffed. The social even of unintended guests wearing her out more. The lizard, intelligent as she is, knew what time it was. Crawling down onto both her arms to set along her shoulder before being placed back in the enclosure.

"Can I join you?" he asked.

"You can sleep in the spare room."

"But I wanna sleep with you."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she's silently hoping he won't remember any of this, but held out her hand for his.

Jon's eyes brightened at the offer of the appendage and stood up, making the attempt to carry her, but Lania had danced away from him.

"No."

"But you wanna be carried by me." he goaded.

"Try again in the morning." she muttered, guiding him up the steps into the spare room. A neutral lighter gray compared to her room's darker gray. Pulling out the black out curtains she switched out the day ones, hopefully it'll ease the hangover in the morning.

"So nice." he pulled the pillow against his chest, hugging it.

"Bathroom is first door down the hall." she told him, arms crossed as she watched him get comfy. As she moved towards the doorway, his calloused hands grabbed hers. Since his strength was much more than hers, he pulled her down onto the bed, sitting her next to him. "What?"

"I want my hug."

"Oh my god." she leaned down to do just as a mother would a child, except upon the pressure of his grip on her waist he shifted so she was now lying next to him. "Fuck." she hissed.

"Fuck indeed." his hand starting to roam along her waist and grip across her stomach.

"Jon." she swallows, her mouth gone dry, "You need to let go." nearly pleading in her gasp as she quickly grabbed his wrist just in case.

"Not tonight." he chuckled.

She's suddenly very aware that maybe she shouldn't have given him that large glass of water. Some of her worries dwindled upon him sliding her against his chest.

"It's good to see you again, and so successful."

Her mind wondered to her own bed, the phone still on the island, and the security lock on the back door. A calming sigh, she tapped against his wrist, hearing his tired hum. "I'll be right back." she sat up, the grip tightening once on her waist as she pulled away. "Then we'll both get some sleep."

Upon the release of his captive, he eyed her once before closing his eyes, finally losing the battle to stay awake.

She has no idea how he's able to with the light still on, now off as she closes the door. "He's married." she chanted as she left back to the kitchen. "He's drunk." she reminded herself as she plugged her laptop in along with locking the back door. "Don't give in." she stated twice upon crawling into her own bed after pulling up the alarm.

#original story #i have no idea this would happen #there's a second chapter #there's now a third #there was a scenario in my head #for a fandom #i don't do romance #i need to work on 16 other stories #this was not supposed to be one of them #rolling with it now

[atlene-sims]

Y1: Summer - Noel

Luc Noel (top right) moved in with his wayward older brother Frank Noel (top left) to make sure he was taken care of now they were both getting on in years. Frank never did settle down and start a family, but Luc did. Luc was not expecting the sad accident that left his grandkids, Emeline Noel (middle), Matthias Noel (bottom left) and Roland Noel (bottom right) without their parents. Now as well as taking care of his deadbeat brother, Luc is trying to raise his three grandchildren. With the unexpected growth of his household, he packed up and moved them out to Aspiration Point.

Luc Noel: Age: Elder  Aspiration: Popularity/Grilled Cheese - Eat 200 Grilled Cheese Sandwiches Sexuality: Straight  Zodiac: Aries - 5/8/6/3/3 (Outgoing, Active, Serious and Grouchy) + Talented, Grey Hair - Rich sims Interests: Travel, Entertainment, Crime Hobby: Unknown Traits: Brave, Loves the Cold, Loves the Heat, Inappropriate, Social Butterfly

Frank Noel:  Age: Elder. (Older brother of Luc) Aspiration: Pleasure/Knowledge - Have 50 Dream Dates Sexuality: Straight Zodiac: Aquarius - 4/4/4/7/6 (Messy, Shy, Lazy, Playful, Nice) + Unemployed sims, Red hair - Swimwear/Underwear Interests: Environment, Fashion Hobby: Unknown Traits: Charismatic, Coward, Evil, Can’t Stand Art, Commitment Issues

Emeline Noel: Age: Teen Aspiration: Popularity Sexuality: Straight Zodiac: Taurus - 5/5/3/8/4 (Lazy, Playful, Grouchy) + Brown hair, Fat - Athletic Sims Interests: Politics, School, Sci FI, Entertainment Hobby: Unknown Traits: Great Kisser, Perfectionist, Inappropriate, Charismatic Matthias Noel: Age: Child Aspiration: Grow Up Zodiac: Sagittarius - 2/3/9/7/4 (Messy, Shy, Active, Playful, Grouchy) Interests: School, Paranormal Hobby: Unknown Traits: Can’t Stand Art, Heavy Sleeper, Shy.

Roland Noel: Age: Child Aspiration: Grow Up Zodiac: Libra - 2/8/2/6/3 (Messy, Outgoing, Lazy, Playful, Grouchy)

Luc moved his family into a nice big house where they could all have their own room and really spread out. (I did have to build this one - and like I said I am NOT a builder! My own builds are nowhere near as pretty as others but I’m learning)

There was plenty of room for all of them, however not much money left over to fill the house! 

I realised I made it far too big, but it seemed fine while I was building it and I couldn’t be bothered downsizing it once they’d moved in. Maybe I will as some point though. Frank’s bed room is on the ground floor. Luc’s bedroom is the red one upstairs, Emeline’s bedroom is the pink one upstairs, and Matthias and Roland share currently.

Frank wanted to adopt a kitten and Matthias and Roland both wanted a pet too. When Frank rang up the Pet Adoption agency, there were no kitten’s available and the only cat there was a bit out of their price range sadly.

Frank didn’t mind too much in the end. He contented himself with watching tv and discovering his appreciation for Film and Literature. He finds himself a true film connoisseur. 

Emeline meanwhile discovered a love of Music and Dance while watching the Sim Station Dance channel. She’d love to learn to play the piano in particular.

Islay Davis stopped by to meet the neighbours and welcome them to the neighbourhood. Luc was glad to meet other elder sims who’d also uprooted their lives to move to Aspiration Point. It made him feel like maybe it hadn’t been such a crazy decision.

Roland brought Micaela Martinez home from school with him and they became firm friends. Matthias also brought her home from school with him once or twice and became friends with her too.

Matthias discovered a love of sports while playing catch with Roland. His favourite sport is Football.

He is still desperate for a pet though. Sorry Matthias! There are only two pets available for adoption and you can’t afford either one :/

While watching the Yummy Channel, Roland learns the wonders of fine Cuisine. He can’t wait to be old enough to try Nectar.

Micaela comes home with the boys so often that Emelina now considers her part of the family, and can’t help but give her a noogie as if she were truly one of her siblings.

Emelina did managed to invite a friend home with her from school too - Delfina Martinez. Maybe they bonded over both having a crush on Bradley Armstrong? Or maybe they’re keeping that a secret from each other...

Matthias and Roland made grandpa Luc proud by both getting an A+ by the end of Summer.

#ts2 #the sims 2 #ts2 gameplay #ts2 blog #screenshots #prosperity challenge #ts2 prosperity challenge #aspiration point #rotational gameplay #neighbourhood storytelling #year 1 #summer #round 1 #generation one #noel #luc noel #frank noel #emeline noel #matthias noel #roland noel

[weirdo-with-a-nametag]

Found out earlier this year that I have no wisdom teeth. Still thinking about that

#mine #I just #I mean I thought it was odd that I hadn't had any pain in that area #while I watched all my friends go in to get theirs removed in high school #but thought maybe they were growing in straight and just hadn't broken my gumline or something #the confirmation threw me a little? #anyway I'm a more evolved human than my whole family and You /j #it is funny though! I have a bunch of genetic rarities! #unexpected red hair (both parents and their parents have brown hair) #2 kinds of heterochromia plus my eyes are mostly green and again my whole family has brown eyes #middle school me was really into the idea of being Verifiably Unique so. would have gone wild over this wisdom teeth thing #it does kinda make sense though! my teeth grew in very nicely so the lack of giant teeth pressing on the rest of them makes sense #would maybe have messed with the spacing a bit? anyway this isn't even funny I'll stop talking #there's more genetic lottery stuff and I dont like leaving lists unfinished without marking them as such so #but im feeling like being done talking about this. not my best look

[gothicwidowsworld]

Winner D.R

Requested Daniel’s 2021 season hadn’t been going as smoothly as he would have liked, the car was different, the team atmosphere was different and even if he didn’t want to admit it his confidence had plummeted a bit under the growing pressure he was putting on himself. But Monza had been a long time coming, the Honey Badger within the Australian craved to prove he was still there even after a relatively dormant season. Hearing his elated voice no doubt paired with a massive grin over the team radio swelled Y/N with pride, Dan deserved this, he needed this win. Dan’s anxiety about having potentially lost his touch had worried the y/h/c young woman Dan had always been resilient, a characteristic he’d instilled in his mini me he shared with Y/N. Y/D/N had been an unexpected but welcomed surprise during Dan’s last season with Red Bull, a positive addition to his fresh start. 

The y/h/c woman had never been one to insert her way into the public's eyes so nobody really noticed when she stopped showing up on their screens as much. It worked for the young couple, Y/N & Daniel, agreeing that keeping Y/D/N away from the overwhelming side of F1, the side of the sport that could be chaotic and intricate. And yet despite her best attempts to remain at the McLaren hospitality the y/h/c woman stood in Parc fermé with Zak Brown Y/D/N still attached to her hip. The youngest Ricciardo was coping with the sensory overload rather well considering the crowds cheers, flags and occasional smoke bombs being released, the small brown haired girl was far to busy chattering away to her Grandparents currently displayed on the phone screen in Zak’s hand. “Daddy win” Y/D/N kept babbling, tilting her small head happily, a tiny smile filling her tanned features. 

“Zak we really shouldn’t be here.” the y/h young woman mumbled loudly to the ecstatic American proudly smiling at the sight of the two papaya car’s coming to a still to claim their 1-2. “You're telling me you’d want to miss this? That you’d want her to miss this?” The older man asked softly, nodding slightly at the delighted young girl in Y/N’s y/s/c arms. Zak knew about the couples agreement in fact he’d even encouraged it when Dan joined the McLaren Family at the start of the season. But he also knew that Dan would want to celebrate this win with his true family even if only two members were there in person. “He won’t mind Y/N/N” Zak added, noticing the hesitation that lingered on the young woman's face. 

“Dan! Mom & Dad!” Zak yelled once he’d noticed the Aussie had jumped out of the car and had been weighted gesturing at the phone in his hand. Daniel Ricciardo’s smiles were legendary but the one currently sat on his face when he noticed his wife and child waiting for him was something else. Bounding over Dan trying to calm himself, the adrenaline still circulating in his bloodstream. “You're here!” Dan yelled passionately clutching Y/N with both hands almost scared he was imagining it. “P1 and you’re here?! Damn I'm lucky.” the Aussie teased, still grinning. Y/N wondered subconsciously when he would stop, surely his cheeks were hurting already. Kissing his wife quickly Dan turned his attention to his parents still waiting patiently over facetime, his large hand settling in Y/D/N’s hair out of habit. Dan really was a hands on dad. 

Finally it was Y/D/N’s turn to be showered in attention. Grabbing the young girl gently Dan lifted Y/D/N over the metal railing smothering the little girl's face in kisses blissfully ignoring his daughter's complaints. “Honey Badger win!” Y/D/N screamed noisily, finally pushing Dan’s face away from hers, demanding he acknowledge her statement. She was still a little too young to understand the colourful leaderboard on the plethora of television screens dotted around the place so Dan knew Y/N had explained what had happened. “Who taught you that?” Dan quizzed the young brunette her y/e/c orbs sparkling in exhilaration. “Grandpa.” Y/D/N said proudly puffing out her chest slightly at the mention of the man. “Hey winner you’ve got to go do your shoey” Y/N stated holding her arms out to retrieve the young girl donned in an orange t-shirt a large number 3 displayed on the back. Shooting a knowing look at the y/h/c girl Y/N sighed dropping her arms. “I’ll be really careful!” Dan begged pouting slightly hoping to get Y/N to agree. Pretending to ponder the silent request Y/N’s heart couldn’t help but flutter at the sight of the man she loved still holding their child. Dan’s request was more out of politeness, the y/h woman could tell he wasn’t going to put the small youngster down anytime soon. “Fine but I’ll be watching you Ricciardo!” the woman said sternly pointing an accusing finger in his direction. “Yeah I’m pretty hot stuff” Dan retaliated cheekily with a shrug of his shoulders before shooting off to claim his well deserved trophy little Honey Badger in tow.

#gothicwidow #imagines #au imagines #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #Daniel Ricciardo imagines #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula one imagines

[jostystyles]

could you do # 16, 69, and 172 from the fluff prompts with jt compher?

a/n: look at him my uwu sexy ginger king husband. why does no one create content for him I hope I go down in hockeyblr history as starting the jt fic movement. anyways request more for him pls xoxo I hope y'all have baby fever!

blurb celly

word count: 831

warnings: swearing, fluff <#

"I don't think i've ever loved someone this much before" + "You always look beautiful" + "Marry me?"

Cleo Jade Compher made her entrance into the world in the wee hours of the night. It was now morning, and JT sat beside his girlfriend in the tiny hospital bed, both staring at the tiny little bundle in (Y/N)'s arms.

"I don't think I've ever loved someone this much before." JT said softly, as is not to wake his daughter. Beside him, (Y/N) scoffed jokingly.

"That hurts, J." She chirped. But really, she couldn't blame him. Cleo was simply perfect. Soft tufts of ginger hair to match her fathers peeked out from under the hat she was sporting, her nose identical to (Y/N)'s, and the shade of her eyes was a deep brown just like JT's. She was a perfect blend of her parents.

And while she was indeed unexpected, that didn't mean she was loved any less. (Y/N) and JT had been together for almost 4 years, so it wasn't anything they hadn't talked about doing. But from the moment JT found out that he was going to be a dad, his whole world changed.

"I just can't believe she's here. She's so perfect. And tiny. I'm never leaving her out of my site. And she's not allowed around any boys until she's 30. We're sending her to an all girls school." JT said sternly.

"Oh my god. What if she decides she's into girls though?" (Y/N) retorted.

"We're homeschooling her."

(Y/N) burst into a fit of giggles, leaning over to kiss her boyfriend's cheek. "And here you said you'd never be an overprotective dad."

"Yeah, well all that changed when I held her the first time." He replied, turning to look at (Y/N).

She had never looked more beautiful in his eyes. She was looking at him too, eyes bleary and sporting bags under them, and her hair was thrown into a loose ponytail and astrew, and she was still a little red faced and sweaty. But she was so beautiful to him.

"You're beautiful." He told her.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes in response. "Yeah, ok. I literally just pushed 8 pounds of human out of my body, sweat half my weight and look like I just fought with a bear. Sure, I'm beautiful."

"You always look beautiful. And especially now. You just literally brought a live being into the world. If that's not beautiful I don't know what is." JT said, the hand that was wrapped around her rubbing circles on her arm.

(Y/N) moved slightly to rest her head on his broad shoulder, feeling her cheeks run hot.

"You sap. If only the world knew you weren't really an emotionless beast like you lead them to believe."

JT's chest shook with laughter. "Emotionless beast? Wow babe, sick burn."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds to be heard being the soft whir of the ceiling fan and the tiny sounds coming from Cleo as she slept.

As JT sat admiring his newborn, he reflected on how content he was in life. He had an astonishing career, played for an elite team that was full of a bunch of really great guys. He was close with his family, and now he finally had one of his own. But something was missing.

"Marry me?" he spoke into the silence, directed at his girlfriend.

(Y/N)'s head shot up, looking at the man next to her, eyebrows raised in shock.

"What?" she said.

"I said, marry me?" JT repeated. "I don't have the ring though, it's at home. I just thought this seemed like the perfect moment to ask."

(Y/N) would agree to disagree, but she wasn't gonna say that. "You have a ring, J?" she spoke.

"Yeah." he replied matter of factly. "Have had it for about a year now. I was planning on proposing but then we found out about CJ, and then I didn't want you to think I was marrying you just because I knocked you up. So I decided to wait. But I don't want to wait any longer."

(Y/N) felt her heart swell. That was the most JT response ever. "Yes. Of course I will marry you." She uttered softly, as she leaned forward and met him for a kiss. It was short and sweet, but was full of love.

As they broke apart, they looked down to meet the wide brown eyes of their daughter.

"D'ya hear that CJ? Mommy's gonna marry daddy!" JT cooed, stroking her soft cheek with his finger.

(Y/N) smiled at the antics of her boyfriend. Well, fiancé now. As JT continued to baby talk with Cleo, she couldn't help but smile fondly. From the moment she told him she was pregnant, teary eyed and fearful, she knew he was going to be an amazing dad by the way he reassured her that it was going to be ok.

And now, as they sat as a family, she couldn't be happier.

#emmie writes #jt compher #jt compher blurb #jt compher imagine #jt compher x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #if you catch the tuck and sabrina reference im kissing you on the mouth

[seokiloquy]

Ships Need Sails - Kuroo & Bokuto & Kozume & Akaashi

Soulmate Au: the first words said to your soulmate appear on their wrist and vice versa, when said. 

Requested (I changed the specific colours, but otherwise nothing else)

Tags/Warnings: GN!Reader, Poly relationship, Meet cute, Starts off focused on the 4

Word Count: 2.1k+

Kozume was on a rowboat in life. One that was too big for him to grab onto both oars at the same time. His little arms were too small and weak. It was fine though, he would guess. Being alone wasn't bad. It was peaceful, he didn't have to think about anyone else, his imagination could run wild and free about sea monsters and dragons flying overhead.

It was a sudden change when a new player appeared in Kozume's row boat. It got a bit bigger and stronger, but most importantly someone could grab the other oar. 

Kuroo and Kozume met at a young age. They both remember meeting clearly, but the realisation of being soulmates came a bit later. When parents are talking, kids don’t really want to speak up after all.

Surprisingly, it had been Kozume to speak first, cutting into the silence of them standing stiffly in his bedroom. And with that, “Wanna play Virtua Fighter 4?” was permanently inked onto Kuroo’s wrist in a golden brown.

For Kozume, in crimson red the word “Sure” was printed.

Though at the time, neither quite understood the intricacies of being soulmates, it slowly became obvious to each other why they were. Kuroo was understanding, able to pick up on Kozume’s mental tune. He knew when the younger boy was excited or bored behind the plain expression he often wore. He didn’t need to ask if Kozume was happy, tired, or having fun. He just knew, and Kozume greatly appreciated that.

Kuroo enjoyed Kozume’s analytical mind. Though perhaps not as intuitive as Kuroo was with emotions, Kosume was quick to learn and adjustable to understand if Kuroo wanted a change of pace. He brought something new to the table in his own way, usually in the form of a new videogame, often one with puzzles to solve or challenging battles. 

They had nine steady years of sticking together as best friends, partners, and soulmates. Nine years until another wrench got thrown into the mix.

Bokuto was an oddball, an unexpected meteor that wasn’t picked up by radars. Not that a small row boat had radars in the first place. Nor would it matter when a tsunami was heading their way. 

Kuroo and Bokuto met in their 1st year of high school during a tournament. Standing on opposite sides of the net when the tension is at its highest and the crowds cheering seemed to stuff everybody’s ears. It was a close game with Kuroo blocking many of Bokuto’s hits and Bokuto’s frustration climbing. There weren’t any direct words exchanged between them until late in the second half when Bokuto landed with an annoyed grunt.

“Stop blocking me!”

Kuroo found his pout and pinched nose entertaining. “Can’t, sorry! It’s my job!”

Nekoma came out on top that game, and in his petulant state Bokuto didn’t take notice of the crimson text on his wrist until they were about to get on the team busses.

While his team still weren’t ready to leave, he took the opportunity to run for where he remembered seeing the red team’s bus. His teammates were screaming after him as he fled.

He sprinted faster when he saw the familiar spiked black hair about to step on the vehicle. “Wait!”

Kuroo didn’t even look over before the spiker took a hold of his wrist and pulled up the sleeve. “Ah—uh?”

Bokuto hadn’t said anything about Virtua Fighter 4, did he?

“What’s up with you?” Kuroo asked, yanking his arm back.

“You, your soulmate?”

Kuroo’s brow quirked. 

Noticing the confusion Bokuto pulled his jacket sleeve up, showing the black-haired bow his words that were printed on the skin. “But you’re my soulmate!”

Kuroo was stunned for a moment, staring at the familiar colour and words on this stranger’s wrist before slowly lifting up the sleeve of his other arm where, lo and behold, said “Stop blocking me!” in silver-grey ink that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight.

Kozume found Bokuto utterly tiring. But the new set of silver words on his wrist were undeniable. “So you’re Kenma!”

To which Kozume replied “Ya.” Letting the simple response be stuck on the loud boy’s wrist, just beneath Kuroo’s words, in the same golden colour.

Boats upgrade all the time, it was nearly a ship at this point. Not that it mattered much when the still had to row everywhere.

Collectively, their parent’s were all baffled. It only became worse, perhaps better, once another year passed, and Kozume finally entered high school.

Tokyo, though pretty easy to travel across, was big enough to make seeing Bokuto regularly difficult. Unlike Kuroo and Kenma, who had been neighbours for close to 10 years now and practically glued to each other’s side all the time, Bokuto was alone. Alone and often wishing he could spend the afternoon spiking Kenma’s tosses in and around Kuroo’s blocks.

No one could quite toss like Kenma. And every time Bokuto came home to his own team after a visit to the two, he was reminded of the fact.

Akaashi was a welcomed surprise.

Seemingly showing up out of the blue, Akaashi was just what they needed.

Had Akaashi’s teammate never suggested going to watch that tournament, and if they didn’t happen to walk in just as Bokuto was flying through the air to land an impressive spike, they probably would have met much later in life.

“Heya! You’re Ah-kashi, Right?” It would be imprinted on Akaashi’s wrist forever in silver ink.

“It’s Ah-ka-ah-shi.” In teal to match the boy’s eyes, sat pretty on Bokuto’s clean wrist on its own.

The four finally met all together during that years’ inter-high preliminaries tournament. And as soon as they did, it clicked. Fresh introductions plastered onto their wrists. It just made sense somehow. The four balanced well. 

Akaashi and Kenma enjoyed the presence of each other, often talking about things that sparked their interests in quiet tones that were calming. Akaashi knew how Bokuto worked, memorized it like a ballet routine much like Kuroo was with Kenma. 

Bokuto and Kuroo managed to pull the most energetic and exciting parts out of each other and the group, keeping things upbeat and happy. Bokuto often was curious about what Kenma was doing on his phone or PS4, giving the quieter of the two a chance to happily ramble about games and play with more people. And Kuroo and Akaashi found each other’s intelligence interesting to explore.

Finally, when back home and away from his Nekoma partners, Bokuto had someone to rely on in the same way.

It felt right, like floating on a ship with the wood in all the right places. Maybe they'd let the current take them somewhere instead of trying to row such a heavy thing. 

Shinzen High, with their green uniforms and matching green landscape, were a great location to host the training camp with the hot summer temperatures. It was also great with all the space available, with a new team joining and all. 

No teams would be arriving for another week, however, but despite that, Shinzen’s volleyball team was eager to prepare for their arrival, and you were now in the middle of it.

Managers were hard to come by, often students would rather be active participants in the sport, or they would just find another club to join entirely. Which was fine, but with players needing to practice, and the coach’s coaching, someone needed to set things up that fell outside of the immediate court. That duty fell on Otaki, the manager of Shinzen high’s boy’s volleyball team, and she was stressed. So much so that she wasted precious prep time, to find even just a temporary helper to help with things in the week leading to the training camp.

You gave another grunt as you lifted the attached desk and chair to stack on top of another at the back of the classroom. It landed with a metallic thud, and you prayed that there were no exams being written nearby.

Classrooms near the gym that weren’t hosting exams were being converted to temporary sleeping spaces for the teams during their training camp.

“Last one,” Otaki said. Her blonde ponytail swung as she placed the last cot and pillow on the group. She quickly ran over to the side of the room to grab your water bottles, reaching yours out for you to take a hold of as she got closer. “Thank you again, (L/N) I don’t think I would have been able to set this up without an extra hand.”

You took a sip of water and waved your free arm back and forth, “It’s no problem really. I finished my exams already anyways.”

“So you’re still willing to help out when the teams arrive?”

You both stepped out of the classroom, quickly making your way to the gyms where the team was practising. “Ya, totally. I never managed to join a club anyways, maybe I could help you out and get the Counsellor off my back. And it definitely beats working on the family farm in this weather.”

Otaki sighed. “I’d appreciate the extra help, the boys are a handful.”

“I’m sure they are.”

Volleyball players were —often— tall and very intimidating, especially with their tendency to yell and send balls flying so fast you were sure they would break a bone.

You stared, wide-eyed at the teams in front of you as they played roughly, doing their best to win and avoid punishment. It was already late in the day, the sun beginning to make its dip toward the horizon. And yet, every single player was playing as though they just got on the court.

“(L/N), come on. We gotta start cooking now.” Otaki slung her arm into yours pulling you toward the gym’s exit where the other managers were waiting with kind smiles.

“We’re all here? Then let’s get to work.

Everyone rushed out of the gyms as soon as food was called. The quad soulmate group was no different, quickly grabbing their servings of food and sitting down to eat. Kuroo, being the resident pest he was, decided to mess with Bokuto as soon as they sat down.

Seeing the duo-toned-haired boy eagerly shoving rice into his mouth, Kuroo smirked. “Yah, Kuroo! Don’t eat so quickly you’ll choke!”

Bokuto’s brows furrowed and swallowed all the rice he held in his chipmunk cheeks with a single gulp, he huffed. “It’s Bokuto.”

“Kuroo.”

“Bokuto.”

Akaashi and Kozume sighed, opting to ignore the two and have their own conversation over the table between bites of food.

“Kuroo.”

“Bokuto.”

“Bokuto.”

“Kuroo.”

Kuroo slammed his fist into the table. “Aha! Got you!”

“Damn it!” Bokuto whined, shoving more rice into his mouth to muffle the cries. Kuroo continued to laugh until a new voice popped in at the end of the table.

“Um, do you all want some more rice?”

Kuroo smirked, turning his head with a keening smile. “Hi, I’m Bokuto Koutarou.”

At the chance to introduce himself to a new person, Bokuto’s head shot up. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou!” He paused, throwing his head pitifully into the stranger’s stomach. “Damn it!”

Breaking away from their conversation, Kozume and Akaashi sighed. Kenma, brushing his bleached hair out of his face, pointed to his teammate next to him with his thumb. “He’s Kuroo.”

Kuroo smirked.

Akaashi nodded his head toward Bokuto, whose face was still pressed into the stranger’s stomach. “And he’s, Bokuto.”

You blinked, head tilting as your mind spun in circles around the conversation. “Okay? I’m (L/N). Do you four want some more rice?” You looked at the weeping boy pressed against your abdomen. Sighing, you set the bowls of rice down on the table for them to split and raised your hands to brush them into the tired boy’s hair. “Maybe some water?”

Unbeknownst to you. The three that weren’t crying, caught sight of the familiar colours as they appeared on your skin, popping out like vinyl text on a shirt. They took a look at their wrists, the ones that only had one phrase on them, now paired with another in sage green. 

When they looked up again, Bokuto was looking up at you with appreciative eyes, which you returned with a somewhat confused smile, and it clicked, just as it did before.

Even with all the wood and upgrades in the world, ships can’t voyage with their sail.

I’ve written 3 oneshot’s in 3 days. They’re not long. But I’m writing. Totally not stressed…. Totally not. Definitely not a form of escapism. Help.

And nowwww. I haven’t written anything in a month and am working on 3 oneshots simultaneously all of which really should just be individual short stories instead. I refuse to miss my upload dates. Help - Bacon

Posted: 21/11/2021

#Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo x reader #Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader #Bokuto Koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #Kozume Kenma #kenma x reader #kenma kozume x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #Haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #haikyu x reader #anime x reader #anime

[bellarkeselection]

Wolf Sword - part 2

Part 1

Y/n Lannister rides into Winterfell with her husband, Jaime. But how will her family react to her return and an unexpected surprise.

Finally after a long ride on horseback we ride through the gate of Winterfell. The cold wind hits my face with small snowflakes sticking in my hair. King Robert Baratheon dismounts his horse causing everyone who lives in Winterfell to bow, following my father's actions. The family is lined up with Rickon, my mother and father, Robb, Sansa and Arya with Bran on the very end. My eyes watch the interaction before me. "Your Grace." My father rose when his king commands by the show of his gloved hand, everyone followed. "You've gotten fat." Is the kings first words to my father who eyes his friend before the pair hug chuckling. "Cat." The pair broke away to hug my mother who bowed after they hugged. He goes down the line. Shacking my eldest brother's hand. Smiling at Sansa and forgetting Arya's name. Having Bran show his muscles before he turned back to my father. "Nine years why haven't I seen ya. Where the hell have you been?" My father spoke of his duty as Warden of the North. "Guarding the North for you, your grace. Winterfell is yours." Cersei or as I should properly address her, the Queen steps out of the carriage heading to greet my parents.

Jaime lifts his helmet off shacking his golden locks about before eyeing me. I shuffle my dress skirts dismounting my horse making my sword hallster swing slightly out from under my cloak. He dismounts his horse to squeeze my hand as we slowly approach my parents. This is it the moment where I'm either rejected or loved after being away for 5 years. I curtsey before the pair as Jaime kisses my mother's outstretched hand. "My lord, my lady." I breathe out seeing my father looking me up and down. The gold and red colors of House Lannister combined with the grey and brown of House Stark. My mother does the same but makes a concerned face eyeing the sword attached to my hip. Luckily my father opened his arms gratefully and I rushed to them without a second thought. "Y/n, welcome home." I hug him back tightly clutching the furs of his cloak in laughter. "Thank you father. It's good to be back home after so long." My mother steps up to hug me as well voicing. "My darling girl. I've missed you." I broke the hug to smile sweetly at her. "I've missed you too, mother."

"So Lord Jaime have you been treating my daughter well?" My father's voice made me turn to see Jaime reply. "I have, Lord Stark. You raised a lovely daughter and between you and I she is very skilled with a sword." I immediately blush knowing my mother never approved of such things for young ladies. Sansa was always good about acting lady like. Arya on the other hand dreams of being a knight, seeing lady things as stupid. At least that is how it was wrote in the letters my mother sends me. "Yes Indeed father. But Jaime only taught me at my request to learn how to use one." My father nods seeing Jaime and I both smiling. Even though my mother doesn't fully trust my husband I can see a small smile on her face as well. Enjoyed at the sight of me being as happy with my arrangement as she has been with her own to my father for years now.

"Y/n!" Arya's young voice squeals out charging my direction and breaking the neat line. I grunt a little at her embracing me so quickly. "Arya." But I bend down on my knees to hug her reguardless. "Where's the imp?" She questioned grinning at my sword. "Tyrion is off having a few drinks before the feast." I reply ruffling her hair. "You have a sword. Can you teach me how to use one, please?" She drags out the last word a little longer tugging at my arm gently. I grin big at her desire to wield a sword reminding me of how much I remember being like her at that age. I secretly want to tell her she can do whatever she wants. But I know our mother is trying to raise her to be a proper lady not a boy. Tilling my head up to Jaime I see a huge grin on his face of our interaction. "I do believe my husband and I may have some time to teach you....out by where the servants wash the clothes." I whispered low in her ear so no one else could hear making her grin bigger.

"Arya. You shouldn't have done that!" Sansa barks but I playfully shake my head as both Bran and Rickon join in knocking me backwards into the dirt. All three aweing at my return home. "Alright, that's enough. They'll be plenty of time to play with your sister later. But she and her husband need to get ready for the feast tonight." My mother explained pulling the three to their feet and they all ran off to play. Jaime holds out his open hands pulling me to my feet gently helping me dust off my dress a little. "It's a joy to see you finally home, sister." Robb finally spoke coming to gently hug me.

"Yes. It's been awhile since I saw you last, Robb. Wasn't it a year after my wedding and you were still following me around like a lost dog." Robb chuckles and I loved hearing it once more. "Yes, well I only wanted to ensure you were safe. I am your older brother after all." I giggled at his gentleness. Robb is the oldest to everyone else except me. I was born the first Stark child but he was born the first Male so he gets to reign over Winterfell. Shortly after though I feel my head starting to spin and my stomach moans like I must have eaten something spoiled. "Y/n, darling. What ever is the matter?" I sway in my boots instantly Jaime noticed securing his arms around my waist to hold me up and I can hear the panic in his voice.

I feel like I'm about to vomit so I put a hand over my mouth mumbling out. "I don't know - I think I'm gonna be sick." My father exclaimed for Jon, his bastard son to help me as he was standing behind Sansa. "Jon help your sister!" My mother ordered Robb to tag along. "Robb, take her to the Master. I'll be up to check on her shortly!"

Jaime hands me over to my brother's arms eyeing my uneasy state with fear. I squeeze his right hand in mine before Robb carries me bridal style inside the castle. Jon opens the door to my old chambers running to fetch the old man. Robb started to lay me down but I forced myself away from him to vomit in the chamber pot on the floor. He bends on a knee holding my hair back as I puked up whatever was upsetting my stomach. Why is this happening. I know I hadn't ate anything rotten before we left the Red Keep.

Finally Jon appeared with the Master who assures both of them out at once. He helped me to lay down in the bed making sure I was done vomiting. He examines my body and asking me questions related to if I were pregnant. "When was the last time you concemated with your husband, Lord Lannister?" I croked out. "About a month ago..." He asked me next resting his hands over my stomach feeling around for something. "When was the last time you've bleed?" I bite my lip having to think for a moment. "The end of last month." The master stood exiting the room without a word to return with my mother who gently closed the door behind herself.

"Mother, what did he say?" My voice cracked when the words came out. I hope it isn't a fatal illness that has come for me. I loved Jaime and I didn't ever want to leave him. She takes a seat at my bedside after pulling up a chair, a slight smile on her face as she takes my hand in hers. "Y/n, honey everything is quite alright. Robb informed me that you puked once you got up here." I nod my head yes feeling my heart race in such concern. "Yes, I did. But what does that have to do with this?"

She rests her other hand over our intertwined ones. "Darling have you and Jaime tried to have children before?" I raise my brows at her question. Of course we had. That was the duty of a wife and Tywin Lannister was insistent we provided an heir to Casterly Rock. Although I had fallen pregnant twice during the first four years of our union but sadly I'd lost both of them. Finally Jaime and I agreed to try one last time and if I lost the child then we would discuss the news with his father. Tyrion has told me their father probably wouldn't be pleased to hear the circumstances but I haven't fallen pregnant so there hasn't been a need to worry.

My mother's smile grows bigger as she reveals with joy. "Y/n. You're with child." I hang my mouth open in shock and horror at the thought of losing another child. At the possibility of having to face a furious Tywin Lannister. But also the joy to know Jaime and I could be parents to the next lord or lady Lannister. "I'm pregnant." How will Jaime react. How will the rest of my family react.

Part 3 will be posted sooner if requested

Please comment and reblog 😊

#jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister x stark reader #jaime lannister x wife reader #feedback appreciated