#Orchard Pigs

[homesteadalbania]

Homestead Albania - Figgy the Piggy #shorts #pigs

[vantetaes]

SPRING FLING🫧🥂

COUNTRY BOY! EREN X CITY GIRL BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! yn goes back to visit what once was her home 15 years ago, only to meet a new face.

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!! high sexual themes! oral (f receiving), penetration, slow burn before smut

a part of you missed it. waking up to the fresh smell of sausage sizzling in hot grease while grits simmered on a burner next to it. feeling the cool summer breeze whip around your sweltering body from playing kickball in the large mowed field with some of the towns kids. drinking freshly squeezed lemonade your grandmother made before tending to her garden.

as the driver slowly approaches your grandparents estate, your heart couldn’t help but to let up a little. the large white house still sat perfectly on their plot of land.

“yn, sweetheart!” the houses screen door flys open with a screech. your grandmother dressed in a flowing white dress, tan beach hat, arm decorated with small gold bangles and her wedding band catching rays of sun.

the driver places his car in park, opening his door to retrieve your suitcase from the trunk. hopping out of the yellow vehicle, the older lady meets you halfway. wrinkled hands caressing your face, she smiles.

“it’s been too long. you’re all grown up on us!”

before anything could leave your lips, a grunt comes from around the bend of the house. your grandfather, covered in motor oil and dirt caked overalls. he removes his gloves, walking towards you and his wife, smile reaching his ears.

“ah i would hug ya honey but im dirtier than the pigs!”

your grandparents liked the life they lived away from the city. the way they could sit on the wrap around porch, grandfather sipping a beer and grandmother some lemonade, their towns newspaper tucked in their palms. watching as the sun ducked their bright red barn, casting a golden glow over the crops and animals grazing on the lush landscape. the stars peeking through transparent clouds, moon creating its atmosphere in the sky.

your grandmother enjoyed picking fresh fruits from her orchard, baking pies and making jams with the delectable fruits. your grandfather loved the lake that sat on the other side of the large property. growing up you’d grown to love these things about them.

as for yourself? you wouldn’t be caught dead doing half the things they do.

your career path led you to pharmaceutical consulting. working for one of the biggest companies in the world. it wasn’t something you enjoyed, but it funded the life you wanted.

living in a penthouse, well off from the city below you. the work was intense, demanding, and you needed to stay on top of it. anyone is replaceable in jobs such as those.

which is why you put in every single pto hour you had into a month long vacation.

to the middle of nowhere.

the wheels of the suitcase clank against the wooden stairs as your grandfather lugs it up the flight. following behind the older lady, excitement bubbles out of your grandmother while she quickens her pace, rushing to the door at the end of the hallway.

when she pushes the door open, it gives way easily, the hinges murmuring softly. the air that greets you is faintly cool, laced with the sweet scent of spring. someone had left the large french windows cracked open, the lace curtains drifting in slow, ghostly ripples.

“just like you left it, darlin’!” the lady says cheerfully.

stepping in feels like stepping back into a memory too fragile to hold in your hands. the room is pale, almost dreamlike. soft white walls, still wearing faint shadows of posters long torn away, frame the space. A canopy bed sits against the far wall, its sheer, pastel pink and ivory drapes spilling down like delicate water, pooled at the floor as if waiting for someone to step through them. the bed itself is made, layered with quilts of faint creams and frilly edges, whispering of afternoons spent sprawled on its surface with a book or diary.

“mary anne, we gotta get back to town to pick up some more feed for the chickens! ‘for the sun go down! i ain’t got my glasses either.” after placing your suitcase inside the threshold, your grandfather gives the back of your head a slight hold before placing a small kiss to the top.

“okay! okay! you ain’t gotta rush, clyde!” the two eventually leave you alone to unpack and do as you need.

to the right, a dresser waits, its porcelain knobs cool and familiar, though you can see chips where small hands must have struck too hard, too often. a vintage vanity mirrors the scene beside it, its surface cluttered with an array of glass perfume bottles, now dulled with dust. the mirror above has started to haze, its edges flecked with age, but you can still catch glimpses of yourself. a cushioned stool still sits beneath, its ruffled seat faded and threadbare.

the light here is alive. golden and warm, it pours through the cracked windows, catching on floating dust motes that swirl like restless fireflies. outside, unseen branches scratch faintly against the frame, their new leaves brushing with the weightlessness of spring. the breeze curls in through the cracks, carrying the faintest hints of magnolia and freshly turned earth, slipping beneath the canopy and rustling the skirts of the curtains.

there’s a rug in the center of the room, its edges frayed, and around it—near bookshelves that haven’t been touched in years—small details stand out like relics: a porcelain music box with its lid still half-open, a stuffed rabbit missing one eye perched on the window seat. all of it feels caught in a quiet kind of waiting.

your footsteps are softened by the wooden floor beneath, the boards groaning faintly under your weight. you look around and inhale deeply. it smells faintly of lavender, of clean linens, freshly cut grass, and mahogany wood.

the hot water washes away the weight of the morning and plane rides, the steam curling in soft, misty clouds that cling to the glass. you stand under the spray longer than you need to, letting it loosen muscles you hadn’t realized were tight, letting it strip the last remnants of dust from your skin. when you finally step out, the room feels cooler, the steam clinging to the mirror and walls in beads of condensation.

lathing your body in cocoa butter and applying a fair amount of lip balm.

you pull on something simple: a soft white tank top and a pair of loose cerulean cotton shorts, light enough to let the sun find your skin. carefully pulling your shower cap off, the water droplets falling down to your shoulders, running off your moisturized skin. you grab a new bottle of sunscreen from your spwarled out suitcase, the book ‘if cats disappeared from the world’, and your black chanel sunglasses.

as you make your way barefoot down the creaking staircase, everything tucked in between your arm. the house warm and bright in a way that feels both lived-in and empty. you’re halfway to the back porch when the front door swings open, and your grandparents call for your attention.

“hey, hold up a minute-” your grandfather says, pausing just inside the doorway, his hat in one hand and the keys to the truck jangling in the other. Your grandmother lingers behind him, hands resting on her hips, her face soft but serious.

“-we’re headed into town for a bit.” she says. “need some supplies for the farm and a few other things.”

you nod, shifting your weight onto one foot as you glance toward the back porch, toward the promise of sun and quiet.

“‘fore you run off-” your grandfather adds, pulling the hat onto his head.

“one of the town boys is ‘posed to be stoppin’ by. hes gone take a look at the barn, see about fixin’ up some of the beams we been neglectin’.”

“you’ll know him when you see him.” she says, a touch warily.

“so just keep an eye out. he’s probably fine, but you know how folks can be.”

something about their tone. half warning, half habit. makes you bristle. you know how quickly people judge someone based on a name, a family, a shadow cast long before them.

“all right.” you say lightly, hoping to end the conversation before it becomes something heavier.

“i’ll be outside if he shows up.”

your grandmother nods, giving you one last lingering look, and then they’re gone—boots on the porch steps, the truck’s engine growling to life and disappearing down the road. you linger by the door for a moment, watching the dust settle in the empty yard. the house feels quieter now, a little too still.

when you turn toward the back porch, the sunlight calls to you again, warm and golden, a balm for whatever comes next.

the back door opens swiftly, letting in gusts of spring air to sweep across the floors. trudging through the plains of grass tickling your thighs, you find yourself at the small floating pond your grandfather built. it sat in front of the large red barn, creating a scene of what farm living actually is.

the pond is fairly quiet, except for the hum of cicadas and the faint lapping of water against its banks. the cows deep moo a little in the distance. the sun hangs high, drenching everything in gold, and the heat wraps around you like a second skin.

you’re stretched out on a reclined lawn chair, a thin towel draped beneath you to catch the sweat. your sunglasses shield your eyes, and a book rests open in your hands, though the words blur a little under the laziness of the afternoon. a half eaten sandwich and a glass of fresh strawberry lemonade sweats beside you, the condensation leaving rings of water on the tiny wooden table. it’s sweet and cold against your tongue, a small relief in the heaviness of the heat.

your top is flung casually over the back of the chair, leaving you in a white bathing suit, comfortable and unbothered as you let the sun soak into your skin. the soft breeze off the water kisses your shoulders every now and then, rustling the pages of your book.

it isn’t until the sharp, uneven sound of boots on gravel carries over the quiet that you lift your sunglasses, brow pinching.

at first, you only catch a shadow moving toward you from the far side of the reservoir. someone tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly not your grandparents.

“hey!” the voice calls, deep but rough, like he hasn’t spoken much today.

you sit up a little straighter, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you look him over. he’s closer now, close enough for you to see the sharp lines of his face, the way dark hair falls a little too messily over his forehead. he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, worn jeans stained at the knees, and scuffed boots that kick up small puffs of dirt as he moves. there’s a toolbox in his hand, which he sets down carelessly at his feet.

“you’re, uh…-” he trails off, scanning you quickly before looking away, his jaw tight. he was issued to seeing old people on this property. but you were a sight for sore eyes. he couldn’t help but fixate his green eyes back onto you. watching as the beads of condensation dripped from the glass to your exposed cleavage, sliding down between your moisturized boobs. that were too big for the swim top your sported. his eyes fed off the way your e/c* eyes shined in the light under the black shields, lips glistening under the rays.

“im here for the barn. your grandparents said someone would be around.” his words are tight and frigid.

you blink, caught between annoyance and curiosity.

“yeah, they mentioned you.” you let your sunglasses slide back into place, leaning back in the chair as if his presence hasn’t disrupted anything.

“didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.”

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm threading through the words as he squats to grab the toolbox.

you raise a brow, bristling.

“didn’t say i was thanking you.”

that makes him pause, glancing up through his lashes like he can’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed. a scoff releases from his lips.

“you sure are a real warm welcome, huh? and you’re reading a book about.. cats?”

“and you’re a little grumpy for someone who just got here. not that it’s any of your concern, i prefer cats over mutts.”

he huffs out a breath, maybe a laugh, but it’s hard to tell, and shakes his head, muttering something you can’t quite hear. you watch as he straightens up again, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as if to dismiss you entirely.

“look, i’ll stay outta your way. just here to fix the barn, ma’am.” he says, nodding toward the distant structure.

“you can go back to… whatever this is.” his gaze flickers briefly over your lemonade, the book, your sprawled-out figure in the sun, before he turns on his heel and starts walking toward the barn.

you glare after him, irritation bubbling to the surface. the nerve of him, showing up out of nowhere with a chip on his shoulder like you’re the one invading his day.

“you’re welcome.” you call after him pointedly, though he doesn’t stop, just throws a hand up in a half-hearted wave of dismissal.

the barn door groans open in the distance, and you sink back into your chair with a huff, flipping your book shut. for the first time all day, the quiet doesn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

he had been long gone by the time your grandparents arrived back at the house. watching the sun set on the horizon out of the kitchen windows, casting a warm orange and pink hue to the house. you couldn’t help but to think about how strange of an interaction that was today.

“some’ wrong, darlin’?” your grandfather asks, pulling apart a small peice of his dinner roll, slipping it into his mouth.

“nothing papa. just tired i think. not really used to the time difference again.”

-

the kitchen smells like sugar, butter, and lemon zest. thick and warm in the morning light streaming through the windows. you stand beside your grandmother at the granite counter, your hands dusted in flour as you work a soft, pliable ball of dough, rolling it carefully under her watchful gaze. the little puffs of flour catch the light as they float lazily to the counter, turning the morning into something hazy and dreamlike. outside, the morning doves are already humming, and the breeze carries the faintest whiff of honeysuckle through the cracked window above the sink.

“not too thin now, dear.” your grandmother says gently, leaning over to inspect your work. her hair is pinned back neatly, and there’s a streak of flour on her cheek that she hasn’t noticed.

“these tarts need some structure, or they’ll fall apart ‘fore they make it to the church. we can’t have a lock in with no tarts, honey.”

“yes, ma’am.” you mutter, suppressing a small smile as you focus on the dough, guiding it into perfect little circles for the tart shells.

the table is cluttered with bowls and ingredients. deep red raspberries, bright and glistening, piled in a pale ceramic dish; a glass juicer with lemon pulp still clinging to its grooves; a small jar of sugar, the lid left slightly askew. your grandmother moves around the kitchen like she always has. calm, methodical, humming a hymn under her breath as she fills the air with the scent of baking pastry. you help her spoon the tart mixture into the shells, carefully pressing a few raspberries into each before she slides them into the oven, her hands covered in oven mitts patterned with sunflowers.

while the tarts bake, she chats softly about who will be at the church service, about old friends and new faces, her voice lilting as if trying to bridge the years that you’ve been gone. it’s comforting, her easy way of speaking, and you let it wash over you as you wipe down the counters, the scent of caramelizing sugar growing richer by the minute.

“i really appreciate your help this mornin’.” her sweet voice fills the silence.

your grandfather appears in the doorway just as you’re checking the tarts, a small grin tucked beneath his mustache. hes holding a set of keys. old, scratched, and gleaming faintly in his calloused hand.

“got something for ya.” he says, the words light but carrying a weight that makes you stop mid-step.

your grandmother glances over her shoulder, smiling softly as if she’s been expecting this.

“go on, now. see what he’s got.”

you follow your grandfather outside, the morning sun already high and hot, the light pooling across the gravel driveway. parked just off to the side of the house is a truck—not new by any stretch of the imagination, but clean, its pale blue paint shining faintly in the sunlight. it’s an older model, rounded and boxy in that classic way, and you can see where he’s spent hours tinkering with it. fresh tires, a polished hood, the faint scent of oil and steel lingering in the air.

“you’re givin’ me this?” you ask, a little breathless.

“sure am.” he replies, pressing the keys into your palm with a nod that’s gruff but affectionate.

“i’ve been workin’ on it a few months now. runs smooth s’ever. figured you might want somethin’ to get around while you’re here.”

the gesture hits you harder than you expect, and you swallow against the sudden warmth building in your chest.

“thank you,” you say softly, running your fingers over the keys before looking back at him.

he pats your shoulder in that firm, no-nonsense way of his.

“you go on, take her for a spin. just don’t let it sit idle too long, y’hear?”

you decide you can’t possibly drive your new truck around town in the same pajama bottoms and rumpled tank top you’ve been in since morning. after a quick shower, you stand in front of the mirror in your childhood bedroom, brushing your hair as the sun filters softly through the lace curtains. you choose something easy. a flowy white sundress, the fabric soft against your skin, cinched at the waist, flaring out below. it’s the kind of dress that moves when you walk, catching the breeze and making you feel like youre floating. slipping on tan sandals and grabbing your sunglasses.

sliding into the truck feels surreal, the leather of the driver’s seat warm beneath your legs as you turn the ignition. the engine rumbles to life with a satisfying purr, and you grip the wheel with a grin you can’t quite suppress.

the drive into town is nothing short of idyllic. the windows are rolled down, the warm breeze tugging at your hair and the hem of your dress as you cruise past fields of tall grass and wildflowers. radio crackles softly, static giving way to an old country song you don’t recognize but hum along to anyway. the town comes into view slowly. a handful of streets lined with brick buildings, white picket fences, and storefronts with painted signs. it’s small and familiar, a place where everyone knows everyone, and yet it feels entirely new through your eyes.

you park the truck just off the main street, slipping the keys into your bag before heading toward the square. the town is quiet, but there’s enough movement to remind you that life trickles on here. people chatting on porches, kids weaving through alleys on their bikes, a group of guys sitting on the bed of an old truck parked near the general store.

you don’t notice them at first, too busy taking in the details of the place. but their voices, loud and lazy—drift over as you pass.

“well, well.” one of them drawls, amusement curling through the words.

“ain’t expect to see you all the way out here.”

you glance over sharply, your gaze landing on none other than him. eren jaeger. leaned back against the tailgate of the truck, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his friends exchange looks that border on curious and entertained.

“didn’t expect you to talk to me.” you shoot back without missing a beat, stopping just a few feet away.

eren raises a brow, clearly enjoying this already.

“oh, don’t worry. i’m just surprised you’re not still sunbathing by the pond, princess.”

“princess? it’s yn to you. and all of you.” you repeat, folding your arms across your chest.

“also, big talk for someone who can’t even find full jeans.” your acrylic points to the dirty man-made holes decorating the boys jeans.

that earns you a snort of laughter from one of his friends, but eren just tilts his head slightly, the smirk never faltering.

“guess you’re still mad about yesterday. why you so upset at me, darlin’?”

“mad? please.” you say, rolling your eyes. “nothing even happened.”

“mmh. sure you aren’t.” he says, pushing off the tailgate to stand up fully, his height a little more imposing up close. there’s something sharp about him. his voice, his gaze, but beneath it is something else, something less certain. you get the feeling he’s used to being looked at sideways, just like your grandparents warned you about.

“you always this charming, or is it just for me?” you ask, tipping your chin up slightly. eyes meeting his low green ones.

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as his friends snicker quietly behind him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he mutters, more to himself than to you. turning on your heels, you rush to excape the uncomfortable encounter.

“see you around, princess.”

-

the next day stretches out slow and quiet. the house feels bigger without your grandparents, their absence leaving a stillness that clings to every corner. you’ve taken full advantage of the solitude, padding barefoot through the rooms in an oversized t-shirt and little else. the fabric brushes against your thighs as you move, worn soft with age, like an old friend. the back of the shirt reads something about a fishing derby from a year that predates you, and you’ve rolled the sleeves haphazardly up your shoulders, letting the collar slip wide against your collarbone.

you spend the morning lazing on the couch, your legs sprawled across the cushions as you flip halfheartedly through a book you aren’t really reading. somewhere outside, birds chatter, and the cicadas hum their slow, pulsing chorus.

it’s the kind of day where time feels like it doesn’t exist. you shuffle into the kitchen whenever you’re hungry, toast a bagel you don’t finish, drink lemonade straight from the pitcher, and leave the radio on low just to fill the silence. some soft, crooning voice filters through the speakers, adding to the lazy weight of the afternoon.

you’re perched on the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, flipping through an old fashion magazine you found tucked in a drawer when the knock comes, sharp and sudden against the door.

it startles you, your head snapping up as the noise echoes through the quiet house. the second knock follows quickly, impatient this time. you glance toward the clock on the wall, but it’s no help, just another reminder that time isn’t real today.

frowning, you slide off the couch, tugging the hem of your t-shirt self-consciously as you head toward the door. the knob feels cool beneath your fingers as you pull it open just far enough to see who it is.

and there he is.

eren, standing on your grandparents’ front porch like he belongs there, though his posture suggests otherwise. hes got one hand braced against the doorframe, his other hooked loosely in the pocket of his jeans. a thin white t-shirt clings to him in the heat, faint smudges of dirt streaked across the fabric like he’s been working outside all day. his dark hair looks even messier than it did before. some tucked into the cowboy hat, other strands falling over his forehead and curling faintly from the humidity.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his gaze catching on your bare legs before he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. his expression shifts, something unreadable dancing just beneath the surface. you realize too late how you must look: hair messy, t-shirt oversized and sliding off your shoulder, a little breathless from having rushed to the door.

“what?” you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest as if that might protect you from the way he’s looking at you.

“nice greeting.” he says dryly, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

“well, you did show up uninvited.” you shoot back, arching a brow.

“what do you want?”

eren exhales through his nose, almost like he’s amused but trying not to show it.

“your grandparents asked me to stop by. said there’s a busted pipe in the barn and they didn’t want to wait until they got back to fix it.”

you frown, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe.

“and they sent you?”

“clearly.” his lips twitch, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“believe it or not, i know how to do more than just piss you off.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“well, the barn’s out back. you know where it is. the big. red. building.”

“i do. smartass.” he says, but he doesn’t move, and there’s a spark of something in his eyes. mischief, maybe. that makes you suddenly aware of just how much skin your t-shirt doesn’t cover.

“what?” you ask again, sharper this time.

“nothing.” he shrugs, the movement lazy as he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step back.

“just didn’t peg you for the type to lounge around in your underwear all day. but what do i know? you wore a bikini outside.”

heat flashes across your cheeks instantly, and you grip the edge of the door tighter.

“it’s not underwear, creep. it’s comfortable.”

“sure.” he says, smirk fully formed now as he starts toward the barn, hands tucked into his pockets.

“looks real… comfortable.”

you slam the door before he can say anything else, the wood rattling in the frame.

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of his boots on the gravel, his laughter carrying faintly through the cracked window.

the hum of the radio drifts on, and sunlight still slants through the windows, but something about the space feels restless now. like the air has been disturbed and won’t settle again. you find yourself standing by the door, chewing your lip and staring at nothing in particular.

it’s curiosity, you decide. that’s all it is. you’re just curious about him. about the boy who showed up at your door unannounced, dripping sarcasm like it’s second nature, as though he thrives on pressing your buttons. that’s why, after pacing the kitchen once or twice, you tug on a pair of shoes and head outside.

the barn stands at the back of the property, worn and familiar, its paint faded and roof patched with tin that glints under the afternoon sun. the gravel crunches beneath your feet as you cross the yard, your shadow stretching long ahead of you. you can hear him before you see him. something clattering against metal, followed by a low muttered curse that drifts out through the open barn doors.

you pause just outside, peeking around the corner. eren is crouched low near the base of a wooden post, his toolbox spread out beside him, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. sweat glistens faintly along the line of his neck, dark hair curling slightly against his temple, though he seems too focused on whatever he’s fixing to notice you.

“i hope you don’t talk to the pipes like that.” you say, stepping into the doorway.

eren glances up sharply, his eyes narrowing as soon as he sees you.

“what are you doing in here?”

“just checking on you.” you lean against the frame, arms crossed, the hem of your t-shirt fluttering faintly in the breeze.

“you could be in here stealing, for all I know.”

he snorts, turning back to the pipe.

“yeah, im gonna steal an old tractor and a pile’a hay. that’ll really set me up for life.”

“you’ve got the attitude for it.” you shoot back.

eren doesn’t respond right away, just reaches into his toolbox and pulls out a wrench, testing the pipe with a faint metallic screech. you take the opportunity to wander further into the barn, your bare legs brushing against the dust-speckled air, the smell of earth and old wood thick in your nose.

“don’t distract me.” he mutters after a moment, though there’s no real heat in it.

“distract you from what?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“i do.” he replies quickly, then pauses to glance up at you again, that familiar edge of sarcasm tugging at his voice.

“but I don’t need you hovering over me like a supervisor.”

“im not hovering.” you say, wandering toward the ladder that leads up to the loft. You trail your fingers along a beam as you go, the wood rough and splintered beneath your touch.

“im just… observing.”

“observing me.” he corrects, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you shrug, tilting your head to look at him.

“maybe. you’re hard to figure out.”

“well… why are ya tryin’ t’figure me out?” he fires back, turning his full attention to you now. his gaze is sharp, but there’s something behind it. something curious, like he’s trying to pick you apart the same way you’re doing to him.

you hesitate, feeling your face heat up despite yourself.

“im just bored.”

“bored ?” eren repeats, his voice dry.

“well, sorry im not here to entertain you, princess.”

you bristle at the nickname, pushing off the beam to face him fully.

“will you quit calling me that?”

“what?” he says, smirking now. “does it bother you?”

“obviously.”

“good.” he huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he goes back to the pipe, adjusting the wrench with a sharp twist. the muscles in his forearm flex with the movement, beads of sweat dripping from his body.

“you’re insufferable.” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn and start to climb the ladder to the loft. the wood creaks faintly under your hands and feet, but you ignore it, needing to put a little distance between you and him.

“where are you going?” he calls from below, sounding more amused than anything.

“away from you!” you shout back, hoisting yourself onto the loft and brushing the dust from your knees. the space is dim, beams of sunlight filtering through the slats in the walls, catching on cobwebs and hay strewn across the floor. you sink down near the edge, letting your legs dangle as you glance back down at him.

“don’t worry. i won’t distract you from all your hard work.”

eren glances up at you with a look that’s half exasperation, half something else. he stands, tossing the wrench back into his toolbox with a faint clatter.

“or you could just gone back in the house. you’re a real piece’a work, you know that?”

“you’re one to talk.” you shoot back, swinging your feet slightly.

“you act like you hate me, but you keep showing up.”

“i don’t hate you and i keep showing up for your folks, not you.” he mutters, scrubbing the back of his hand across his forehead as he looks away.

“you just talk too much.”

“and you’re just cranky.”

he lets out a soft laugh, one that seems to surprise even him. when he looks back at you, his expression is different, though it’s hard to tell in the dappled light of the barn.

“you don’t know anything about me.” he says finally, his voice quieter this time.

you tilt your head, studying the man below you.

“maybe not. but I know you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

eren stiffens slightly at that, his jaw ticking as he averts his gaze. for a moment, the only sound is the wind pressing against the barn, rattling the boards, and the distant hum of cicadas.

“you don’t know that either. and what about you, huh? showing’ up outta nowhere. bein’ as bossy as you are?” he says eventually, his tone flat.

“im a pretty good judge of character. and i used to live here. a lot changes in fifteen years.”

he scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it.

“you’re annoying.”

“and yet you’re still here.” you say, letting a smile creep onto your face.

the loft creaks beneath you, but you don’t think much of it at first. it’s old, worn by years of weight and weather, and the barn itself seems to hum with the memory of its age. eren is below, fiddling with his toolbox, muttering curses under his breath as he wrestles with some stubborn pipe or post. you’re perched on the edge of the loft, legs dangling as you watch him, not bothering to hide your smirk.

“you’re taking forever.” you tease, your voice carrying through the barn.

eren pauses, glancing up with an annoyed glare.

“if you think you can do it faster, darlin’ , be my guest.”

“oh, i didn’t say that.” you reply, leaning back with a huff of satisfaction.

“i’m just observing how inefficient you are.”

he mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, and you’re about to push his buttons again when the sharp sound of splintering wood freezes you. the beam beneath you gives a slow, aching groan. erens head shoots up, noticing the lift giving in right where you sat.

you don’t have time to react. the wood cracks loudly, shattering the stillness, and suddenly you’re falling.

it happens in a rush. your stomach lurching, air rushing past you, hands scrambling for anything to grab. you hit something solid but not the ground. the impact knocks the wind out of you, but there are arms around you, holding you tightly.

“jesus christ!” eren’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and alarmed. “are you stupid?”

your brain catches up slowly, heart still slamming against your ribs as you look up to find eren staring down at you. his face is just inches from yours, his arms wrapped firmly around you where he caught you before you could hit the floor.

“i—” you start to say, but the words catch in your throat.

eren lets out a breath, long and shaky, as he lowers you carefully to the barn floor. his hands linger at your sides, steadying you. “are you okay?”

you try to nod, but then you feel it. the sharp, searing pain radiating up your leg. you wince, shifting slightly, and his eyes dart downward.

“you’re hurt.” he says flatly.

“no, i’m fine,” you lie, but as soon as you move your leg, the pain worsens. you look down to see a gash along your shin, blood streaking your skin where the wood must have splintered against you.

eren notices immediately.

“shit-” he mutters, reaching for you before you can protest. “don’t move.”

“eren, i’m fine,” you insist, but your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your leg.

“yeah, sure you are,” he shoots back, already scooping you up before you can argue. his arms slide beneath your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly.

“stop squirming, unless you wanna make this worse.”

you freeze, stunned at the way he carries you, like you weigh nothing at all. his face is set, focused, though you swear you can see a flicker of concern beneath the irritation.

“you don’t have to carry me.” you mumble, feeling heat creep up your neck.

he doesn’t look at you. “and what, let you drag yourself back to the house? don’t be stupid. now imma have to fix up the loft.”

the walk back to the house feels longer than usual, the silence stretching between you save for the crunch of his boots against the dirt. you steal glances at him—at the way his brow furrows in concentration, at the way his arms flex slightly beneath your weight. his grip is careful, like he’s afraid of jostling you too much.

“you’re really dramatic, you know.” you say quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

eren snorts, glancing down at you with a raised brow.

“me? you’re the one who decided to fall through the damn barn.”

“it wasn’t a choice.” you mutter, pouting slightly.

“whatever you say, princess.”

he carries you through the front door like it’s nothing, kicking it open with his boot before setting you down gently on the couch. the shift makes you wince, and he notices, crouching beside you immediately.

“last door on the left, under the sink.”

“stay put.” he says, voice low but firm, before disappearing into the bathroom.

you sigh, leaning your head back against the cushions as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind nothing but the dull ache in your leg and the embarrassment settling deep in your chest.

when eren comes back, he’s holding the first aid kit and a damp towel. he drops onto the floor in front of you, his knees brushing the edge of the couch as he sets everything down.

“this might sting.” he warns, wetting the towel before carefully pressing it to your shin.

you hiss through your teeth, nails curling into the couch cushion. “you could be a little gentler, you know.”

“i am being gentle.” he says, though his tone lacks its usual bite. he works quickly, cleaning the blood and dirt from the scrape before carefully dabbing it dry.

you watch him quietly as he unwraps a roll of gauze, his movements surprisingly careful, his expression softer than you’ve seen before.

“you didn’t have to do all this.” you say softly.

eren doesn’t look up, focused on securing the bandage.

“yeah, well. you’re not exactly good at taking care of yourself.”

“is that your way of saying you care?”

he pauses for half a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. the look he gives you is unreadable, but there’s something there. something warm.

“just… don’t do anything stupid like that again.” he mutters, his gaze dropping back to the bandage.

you bite back a smile, watching as he finishes and sits back on his heels. his hands linger on your leg for a moment, testing to make sure the gauze is secure before he finally stands.

“thanks.” you say quietly, your voice soft.

eren just shrugs, grabbing the first aid kit and standing to his full height. “don’t mention it.”

you try to mimic his movements, grabbing onto the arm of the couch for support until the pain shoots you right back down. eren wastes no time meeting you at eye level again, frowing a little.

“you need to stay put. stop being so damn hardheaded, yn.”

“finally you use my name.” his eyes burn deep holes into yours, brown chunks of hair framing his face.

“eh. i still like princess.”

he pauses, just for a second, as if he’s considering something. then he turns, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“both are real pretty though.” he mutters, but his voice is quieter now, softer. there’s an edge of something else there, something that’s hard to place.

you feel your heart pick up, and before you can even process the thought, before you can even think to stop him, he’s closing the space between you. his hand comes to rest gently on the side of your face, and then, with surprising tenderness, he leans in. the kiss is slow, hesitant at first. just a brush of lips against yours. but it deepens quickly, and for a moment, it feels like time itself is holding its breath. maybe you were holding your breath. his hand curls around the back of your neck, and you instinctively lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his lips presses against yours, soft and urgent.

the kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and when he pulls back, his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your skin. his eyes are dark, a little unsure, but there’s something raw there too.

“eren?” you whisper, breathless, unsure of what to say, what to do with the sudden surge of emotions.

he doesn’t speak at first, just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out. his fingers linger against your skin for a second too long before he pulls away, stepping back.

“um, guess i’ll get going then.” he says, voice low, almost like he’s unsure of himself for the first time.

he basically rushes out the front door, leaving you with a bloody gauze pad wrapped around your shin and a sense of confusion.

-

the farmer’s market buzzes softly with life. the air smells of ripe peaches and freshly baked bread, and the sunlight filters through the trees, dappled and golden. you weave through the crowd, your basket swinging lightly on your arm, filled with a small loaf of sourdough and a jar of honey. it’s your favorite part of the week, wandering between the stalls, picking out produce and listening to the steady murmur of the townsfolk.

you’ve got a small crumpled list tucked into your hand: oat milk, a jar of honey, maybe some fresh greens, and you’re weaving your way through the market when you spot him. eren. he’s standing with a man you can only assume is his father. the resemblance is impossible to miss: the sharpness of the jawline, the same dark hair, though his father’s is streaked with gray, and the way they both carry themselves. quiet and a little standoffish. they’re posted at a vegetable stand, crates of carrots, onions, and cucumbers spread out before them. eren’s arms are crossed as he listens to something his father says, his brow furrowed like he’s only half paying attention.

something about the way eren glances around, almost restless, makes you hesitate. you watch for a beat longer, tucked slightly behind another booth, debating whether to approach. but then eren looks up, and his gaze lands on you. for a second, he’s still, his face unreadable. then his eyes shift slightly, narrowing, and it almost feels like he’s warning you.

you step forward anyway, hobbling a little on your sore leg.

“eren.” you say, your voice soft but steady. his name feels strangely loud against the background chatter, and both he and his father turn to look at you.

eren’s face tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away. his father, on the other hand, gives you a long, slow once-over, his sharp green eyes cutting into you with a coolness that makes your chest tighten.

“who’s this?” his father asks, his tone mild but clipped, like the words have edges.

“yn, sir.” you offer quickly, stepping closer and giving him a polite smile.

“i’ve been staying with my grandparents for the spring. i’ve seen eren around, so i thought i’d introduce myself. he helps around a lot.”

you hold out your hand, but his father doesn’t take it. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the booth’s counter, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“introducing yr’self, huh?” he says, his voice light, almost amused, but there’s something underneath it, something just sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“not many of the town folk bother to stop by our booth, let’lone introduce themselves. guess you must be curious.”

you pull your hand back awkwardly, your smile faltering as you glance at eren.

“i just thought it would be nice, sir. i apologize.” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“your vegetables do look great.”

his father lets out a soft huff of a laugh, barely more than an exhale.

“yeah, they do, don’t they? we put a lotta work into this land. more than most people around here would know.”

eren shifts beside him, his jaw tightening.

“dad.” he mutters under his breath, but his father doesn’t even glance at him.

“you stayin’ with the wrights?” his father asks, tilting his head slightly.

“figured. they’re good people, always minding their own business. shame not everyone in town does the same.”

you blink, the words settling in your chest like stones. there’s no malice in his tone, not directly, but the weight of them is unmistakable.

eren’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders tense.

“she’s just trying to be nice.” he says, his voice low, almost resigned, like he knows it won’t make a difference.

his father finally straightens, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“nice is fine-” he says, glancing at you again. “-but not everyone ‘round here is friendly as they seem. might be worth ‘membering.”

the air between you feels tight, uncomfortable, and you’re not entirely sure if his words are meant as advice or something closer to a warning. you force another smile, even though your face feels stiff, and take a small step back.

“well, it was nice meeting you.” you say, your voice a little quieter now.

“i’ll let you both get back to work.”

eren looks at you then, his lips pressing together like he wants to say something but can’t. his father, however, just gives you a small, curt nod.

“have a good day, darlin’.” he says, the words clipped and formal.

you turn quickly, your cheeks burning, and make your way back into the flow of the market. the cheerful voices and warm sunlight feel duller now, muted by the lingering tension.

it’s not until you’ve stopped by another stall, pretending to inspect a bunch of lavender, that you feel eren’s presence beside you. you glance up, and there he is, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pulled into a scowl.

“sorry about him.” he mutters, his voice low. “he’s… he’s just like that.”

you shrug, trying to act like it didn’t bother you, though the knot in your stomach hasn’t quite eased.

“it’s fine.” you say softly, but the look he gives you says he doesn’t believe you.

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the market swirls around you, full of life and sound, but between you, there’s only a quiet tension. finally, eren sighs, tilting his head toward the edge of the market.

“come on,” he says. “let’s get out of here.”

-

you’ve learned to move quietly, to slip through the back door of the house when no one’s looking, to meet him at the edge of the woods by the lake when the sun has set and the stars are just beginning to prick the sky. everything feels like it’s wrapped in silence, soft and secretive. even the air between you seems charged with something unspoken, something thrilling. for two weeks.

he was addictive.

soft whispers under your large quilts as his lips traced kisses from your neck to lips. engulfing you in a warm embrace. wind blowing through the windows he snuck into.

he loved seeing you drive past him casually in your truck while picking up groceries for your grandmother. watching your hair whip in the wind and the low hum of the trucks engine passing by.

when you and him sat in his living room, playing with the golden lab he named ‘scout’ when he was four. your fingers comb through his mane, tilting your face upwards to avoid from being licked by the drooling animal.

whenever your grandparents gave him yet another daunting task around the farm, he’d watch as your sprawled out in a bikini. sipping the sweet tea, beach hat shading your face. watching as the droplets of water dripped down your chest. he’d hate to admit how many times he’s almost nailed his hands to the barn.

“you okay over there?” your arm, half up in a wave, drawling his attention from your new position. you lay on your chest, slowly pulling at the strings holding your top up. letting them dangle off the side of the chair, you slide the waistline of your bottoms down a little.

“eren! why don’t you come have some lemonade with me?”

you were driving him nuts.

he loved how lively you would get after spending the afternoons in a tiny, quaint bar located on the outskirts of town.

the drives back usually consisting of you halfway out the passenger window, eyes gazing up at the sky as you took advantage of the open landscape. eren would watch you intensely, eyes bouncing from the road back to you.

pulling into erens dirty path driveway, he pulls your body across the long front seat, carefully tucking his arms under your knees and around your back.

“im not drunkk!” you whine, face buried into the crook of the man’s neck while he places you down softly on the dark leather couch. closing his front door, his hand runs through his brown locs with an exasperated sigh.

“you need to sober up so i can take you home, yn. i ain’t trynna deal with a angry mob of old church people.” his height blinds out everything in your path as he stands over you. his large hands cup your face gently.

“boy im grown, come here.” you whisper, pulling him down by the forearm, eyes never leaving his. green eye flicker from your eyes to your glossed lips. your essence was like a gravitational pull.

lips locked onto one another, you can’t help but to notice he much softer his lips have gotten.

“you been exfoliating?”

“i’on know what that is, shut up and kiss me.”

it was hungry. borderline filthy the way his hands rubbed you down slowly. caressing the dips of your waist, cold jewelry slides across your stomach, hitching your breath. the tank top you wore stood no chance. brown nipples poking through the sheer cotton fabric.

hes smiling. feeling his hands roam you so freely. he couldn’t help but to take his thumbs and pointer fingers, slipping them into his mouth and out with a quick pop! going back under your shirt, he takes your perky buds in between his fingers, rolling them slowly as the rest of his hands cup your breast.

“oh! eren- oh my god.”

his lips pepper kisses all over your exposed skin, nipping at spots before kissing over the pain. hands roam down to your thighs, giving them tight grips before sliding down the couch.

eyes latched onto each other, you can’t help but to whine.

“please eren.”

this was the first time in years you’ve felt this strong of an attraction towards someone else. crazy for it to be eren of all people.

“please, what?” he’s slowly tugging at the drawstrings of the shorts you wore. eyes locked on you with a burning passion. sitting up against the arm of the couch, your shorts make it to the other side of the room.

your jaw is wide , eren hissing when you tug at his long brown locks. the moment he’s sliding his middle fingers into your burning core, stretching you open as his thumb slowly teases your clit. his body proceeding lower, all you can feel is slight gust of air hitting your cunt. his lips wrap gently around the swollen bud, sucking agonizingly slow, saliva and slick stick to the man’s face. he hums into your taste, wrapping his arms around the base of your thighs. he laid fully out on the couch.

instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm and nose. feeling his tongue slip inside your clenching hole, only to add two of his slender fingers.

his fingers scissor up into your throbbing cunt, hitting your sweet spot.

“babyy” you whimper, barely able to get anything out with the man’s face devouring you below. eyes closed in euphoria and concentration. hands interlocked into his head full of hair, your moans grow louder.

“doin’ such a good fuckin’ job, princess.”

feeling how he used his thumbs to spread open your pussy, using his tongue to penetrate your clenching hole. his tongue dips into you, coating his tongue in your cum, before coming back out and circling your swollen bud. the repetitive sensation sends you into a fit of louder moans, enticing the man to keep going.

“oh! ba- fu,fuck eren! im fucking c-“ the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your abdomen until you can't hold back anymore. not even when you’re cumming all over the man’s face, does he stop. he wants more now. he needs more.

from the first day he saw you out by the water, he knew he wanted you for himself. he watched the way you interacted with the townsfolk and farm animals. how sexy you were effortlessly. walking around your grandparents farm with nothing but a bikini on and practically see through shorts.

he hated to see other men in town look at you. the way the old, decrepit men would sit in the farmers markets and watch you browse around. whispering to each other while you naively chose your fruits and vegetables.

he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

his body jolts to a standing position, with ease he’s dipping down to pick you up off the couch. a large wet spot decorated the leather where you lie. he’s carrying you over his shoulder down the narrow hallway of the house.

“where we goin’?” you ask, eyes low and hazy.

you make it to the well decorated room. posters and band prints scattered on the wall , a radio sat in the corner, humming random songs from the station eren left it on. his bed was royal blue and well kept.

that was until you were being pounded into the bed.

you nails grip for anything they can reach. digging straight into the bed set, while his throbbing cock dips in and out of you. he has your right leg thrown over his shoulder, hands pinned to your waist as he draws out. face twisting in pleasure. his dick coated in the slippery substance, a faint white line forming the base of his cock as he moves in and out of you repeatedly .

“makin’ such a mess on me. pretty fuckin girl.”

he waste no time, throwing your other leg over his shoulder, locking you in as he quickens his pace. shallow breaths escape his mouth, eyes locked in concentration. you’re stuck with your mouth in an -o- shape as the man pounds you relentlessly. with a swift pull out, he taps against your side.

“on your knees, princess.”

on all fours, he wastes no time reinserting himself, bottoming out while his nails dig into the supple skin on your waist. the sound of skin slapping together and the wet squelches of your abused cunt bounce off the walls, filling your ears.

“i’ve wanted you for so long, you’re so good to me- fuck!”

the more your honey coated words fall from your lips, the more the man wants to ruin you. he wants to see you beg for him. he needed to have it.

pulling your arms from under you, he pins them to your back, locking you in an unforgiving arch. he feeds you slow, agonizing pleasing, strokes. loved watching the way your pussy desperately gripped around him as he pulled out.

trying your hardest to escape the abuse of your cervix, you try to pull away, only to receive a fire fueled spank on your ass.

“take this dick, baby. you had all that mouth ‘member? you can do it, i know ya can.”

his pace quickens, yearning for your release. the only thing you can form is small gasps of air as the man shows no mercy on your smaller frame.

“eren! oh shit- im cumming again ple-“

he releases your hands, using his free hand to rub at your clit as he continued fucking into you.

your body goes limp, clear liquid spewing out onto the man’s blankets. he flips you back over, eyes dark and full of hunger still.

“gimme just one more? please, honey. she just so good.”

folded into a middle split off the bed wasn’t something you ever thought you could do. yet here you were, on your back, eren standing in front of you, holding your legs apart.

his hips roll into yours, digging at your inside slowly. head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed and eyes low. your hands hold onto his muscular forearm, trying to keep grounded as the man was wearing you out.

with a few more thrust, he pulls out. long white ropes decorate his chest.

“you’re something special, yn.”

-

after your grandparents had gone into town for their usual errands, you find yourself at the edge of the lake, hidden in the soft embrace of the willow trees. the faint glow of fireflies flickers in the warm spring air, and the world feels still, like it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. eren’s there before you, waiting, leaning against a tree with a smile that always makes your stomach flip.

“thought you’d never show up,” he teases, his voice low and smooth, like it’s a secret only meant for you. his eyes flicker over you, and the corner of his mouth pulls into a crooked grin.

“you just like being dramatic,” you reply, though you can feel the flutter in your chest as you walk closer, the pull between you too strong to ignore.

he steps forward, closing the space between you, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. quick, soft, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. it’s always like this, quick, a rush of feeling that neither of you can seem to contain. he pulls away just as quickly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“you’re insane.” you whisper, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he grins, taking your hand and guiding you down the worn path toward the lake. the grass brushes against your bare legs, soft and cool under the fading light. the blanket he’s spread out by the water is a patchwork of colors. faded reds and yellows that look almost too bright against the darkening sky.

you settle down beside him, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. the lake reflects the dimming stars, the quiet ripples in the water mirroring the racing of your heart.

“y’know. ive been havin’ a lot of fun with you.” he playfully nudges your body, rocking you to the side.

“i know. imma miss you, country boy.” the fake southern accent rolled off your tongue sarcastically. although the tone was funny, something about erens aura shifted.

“what’s up? why’ve you gone all quiet?” you ask, eyes fixated on the male. the moonlight illuminated his face, exposing every freckle, unshaven parts of his face, and his eyes locked onto yours.

“i jus’ really don’t wanna let you go, princess.”

“don’t go all sappy on me now. i’ll visit when i can, you know that right?” he just nods, taking a drink of the beer he had before your arrival. the air was thick and warm, your knees pressed together, watching the water reflect the bedazzled night sky as eren just shuffles in his spot.

“yn, promise ya wont forget me?”

“eren-“ you try to stop the conversation before it happens. instead ending up in a tight hug from the man. his arms latch around your waist, head resting over your shoulder.

“im serious, yn. i ain’t ever felt this way for nobody.” pulling away, all you can see is his bright green eyes burning into yours.

“how could i ever?”

you lean in, your free hand brushing against his jaw as you kiss him. it’s slow, deliberate, and familiar, yet it feels new in the way it sends warmth flooding through you.

his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his touch firm but gentle as he deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he can. the world around you fades. the quiet lap of the water against the shore, the soft hum of the crickets. until there’s nothing but him.

when you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. eren’s thumb brushes over the curve of your jaw, and his lips curl into a small, almost sheepish smile.

“you ever thought about visiting the city?”

© vantetaes. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works. ageless/blank blogs dni.

random inspo pics at the bottom? yes!

[alnilaem]

Price grooming the cute new farmhand (daughter of his neighbour, who sent her to his ranch for debts) to he his helper….folding her over his thighs and spanking her when she gives the cows too much silage or forgets to let the pigs out. punishing her, but also wrapping her in the cutest dresses. making her cook more than she tends to the stallions. making her fetch his beers more than she does pick orchard crops. soon enough, she’s his farmhand-turned-wife :)

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddie-spooktober.

Gravity Always Wins

Day #3 Prompt: Apples | Word Count: 6464 | Rating: M | POV: Eddie | CW: Language, Sex | Tags: Modern AU, Meet Cute, Apple Picking, Bakery Owner Steve, Sports Guy Steve, Smitten Eddie Munson, Platonic Stobin, Gareth, Good Uncle Wayne Munson

Also right here on ao3.

"Oh shit, oh fuck," Eddie says as the apple tumbles out of his grasp. He looks down in horror as it falls, like a slow-motion car wreck happening right before his very eyes, as it lands directly on the guy's head that was picking below him.

To add insult to injury, it hits with a very audible thunk. 

Shit, he shouldn't even be allowed on a ladder. That's like the first rule of the universe or some shit. Who signed off on this? Honestly.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" Eddie asks, coming down the ladder, watching as the guy, the very pretty guy, rubs at the top of his head, only slightly worried he's about to get his ass kicked in a goddamn apple orchard.

But the guy is laughing.

He's laughing, and gorgeous, and Eddie can't help but smile. 

"Goddamn you, Newton!" Eddie shouts, dramatically shaking his fist in the air, eyes trained on the sky, as if he had nothing at all to do with this, and that gravity alone was solely to blame.

"Gravity always wins," the guy says, then adds, "I'm good, honest, you just startled me. I never thought concussion number four would be at the hands of an apple. But here we are."

Eddie feels his face fall.

"Oh, oh no, I'm kidding. I was just teasing you. I'm fine. Look? It was just a little apple," he says, leaning over to pick up the offending piece of fruit. 

Eddie eyes it in his palm, "That's definitely gonna have a bruise."

"Like my head," he teases, and Eddie reaches out and pops him on the shoulder, making him pull back, giggling. His sweater is soft under Eddie's hand, and Eddie wants to reach out and stroke it again, but stops himself. Content to just stare a second.

He's truly something to look at. Goddamn.

Eddie just smiles at him, and when he straightens back up, he hands the apple back.

It is a little apple, and Eddie probably shouldn't have picked it in the first place, but he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing. He saw an apple, and picked it.

Looking at the bushel this guy has selected, though, gives him pause. They are evenly sized, and brightly colored. No blemishes at all. Perfect apples, for the perfect guy.

Eddie's are a little misshapen and odd. The freaks, if you will, but he thinks that's pretty damn fitting.

"Guess you'll have to make applesauce–" the guy starts, and then stops, clearly searching for Eddie's name.

"Eddie," Eddie offers.

"Eddie," he repeats. "I'm Steve."

"Well, Steve, I would make some applesauce if I knew how," Eddie laughs.

"You could always come by my bakery slash coffee shop," Steve offers, sort of shaking the basket slung over his arm, "That's why I'm picking apples today. So I can make some seasonal items with local apples. Customers eat that shit up."

Eddie thinks he's being picked up. Maybe. Or not. He's never very good at getting those signals right. Gareth says he's hopeless, and sometimes that feels more accurate than he'd like to admit.

Like, right now. Is Steve hitting on him, or trying to drum up business? 

Eddie decides he honestly doesn't exactly care which it is, "Sure, I'd love to be the guinea pig for your apple pie."

"Well," Steve says, lowering his voice in a way that makes Eddie feel funny in a good way, "I never said pie."

"Oh, well, in that case…" Eddie teases, trailing off, acting as if he's going to walk away.

But, Steve just laughs at him, and digs in his wallet, producing a little business card: Harrington's. Since 1955.

"My, you look awfully good for your age," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "My grandma and grandpa ran it before me. And they didn't think they'd have anyone to take over the family business when they retired. And then I turned up, with nothing better to do."

Eddie nods. He's definitely going to stop by Steve's family business, not even for the not-pie, but just so he can see more of this guy, "Well, in that case. When should I show up?"

"Tomorrow, anytime after three?" Steve suggests, and Eddie is nodding along. Tomorrow after three sounds perfect to him. 

Eddie pulls up in the alley behind the back of the bakery, as directed, and can't really believe he's here. Like, what does he know about baking? He can't even bake a box of brownies without messing them up somehow.

But, Steve is gorgeous, and this isn't an invite he's about to turn down. He's a fool, but he's no dummy. Eddie pushes on the back door, and it's heavy, but slowly glides open. 

"Knock, knock," Eddie says, and then hears a commotion. Lots of yelling. Like a fight is happening. 

His fight or flight starts to kick in, and flight will always win for him, but…he pauses.

He knows that kind of yelling from Uncle Wayne, and as far as a fight goes, it's surely a one-sided one, because Steve's staring up at the mounted television over on the wall, screaming at the refs of a football game, as he stands inside an industrial kitchen, at a stainless steel prep table, peeling apples.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Steve the Baker is also Steve the Sports Guy? That wasn't advertised on the label at all. 

Eddie's been hoodwinked. The wool pulled straight over his eyes. Was bamboozled by a pretty face in a warm-looking sweater, right there in a goddamn apple orchard.

He's starting to plan his escape, when Steve turns to look at him, and smiles, waving his paring knife in the air, "Hey! You made it!"

"Hey," Eddie says back, shucking off his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack by the door. Steve sounds excited to see him, and maybe the game is almost over. He could deal with it for a few minutes. Steve was very pretty in that sweater.

He squints at the screen, and the score is 0-0 and it's still the first quarter. He doesn't know a lot about sports, but he grew up with Wayne. He at least understands that this means the damn thing has just started. 

"You care if I leave the game on?" Steve asks, flashing him those warm eyes, and Eddie finds himself nodding along with that idea, like a damn idiot. No, he doesn't want to watch sports, but…that face.

That face will make him break his most solemn of vows: no sports. He just won't tell Wayne or Gareth. He'll gloss right over that part, and nobody will ever have to know that he spent the whole afternoon with football blaring in the background of his maybe date.

Because, as good looking as this guy is, and as much as Eddie would like to eat this guy, and his baked goods, alive, he's sure this isn't going to go any further than this afternoon. It can't. What would they talk about? Baking and football? Eddie doesn't know anything about either of those topics. But he can surely bumble through one afternoon. That'll be fine. Eddie can do anything for one afternoon. All the odd jobs he's ever held has proven that.

Hell, if he plays his cards right, maybe he can get one night out of it, too.

But long-term? He can already see the writing on the wall, and it bums him out, just a little bit. He hadn't been this excited about a guy in a while.

Steve hands Eddie a peeler, and Eddie goes to work, peeling the whole bushel of apples that Steve has washed and laid out on a towel. He does know how to work a peeler, at least. That was his job for potatoes at Wayne's, when he was far too little to do anything else.

"So, tell me about yourself. Do you always assault men with apples?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks over at him and smiles.

"Only the cute ones," Eddie flirts, and loves the blush that stains Steve's cheeks as he looks back down at the apples he's evenly slicing. 

"No offense, but you don't seem like the apple picking type," Steve says, and Eddie laughs. He's not wrong. "What brought you out there, especially all by yourself?"

"It's part of my contract. Free apples from the orchard and free pumpkins from the patch," Eddie says, then realizes that doesn't explain anything at all, adding, "I work nights at the haunted hayride. As a scare actor," Eddie says, then holds his hands up like a zombie.

Steve's eyes are big, and it's awfully cute as he laughs.

"So, free apples. I mean, how many apples or pumpkins can one man eat? But free is free."

"Maybe I'll teach you how to bake something using them," Steve suggests and Eddie nods. He'd like that. A lot, he thinks. Even if that's all he gets out of the day.

"Deal. So, what's on the menu for today?"

Steve grins, "Apple fritters. Cupcakes. There's this apple maple upside down cake I want to try. A cobbler. Someone suggested an apple pie."

"They sound smart," Eddie banters, and Steve just keeps smiling.

"Have you ever made a dessert pizza?" Eddie asks, meeting Steve's eyes.

"Like from Pizza Hut?" Steve questions, and Eddie nods.

"No, but we totally can. I've never thought to try to make it myself."

Eddie smiles at the thought. He imagines homemade would be even better than what used to be on the buffet at Pizza Hut when he was younger.

Steve moves from slicing apples to dicing them very small and fine. In perfect little squares that are very impressive to Eddie's eyes. He can barely cut anything evenly, so that seems like quite the feat.

Eddie watches as Steve goes between watching the knife in his hands so he doesn't cut his fingers off, and the ballgame. 

"You should come to the hayride," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, "I don't really do scary things, or anything that risks a head injury these days."

It's just a trailer pulled around the grounds, nobody touches anybody. Couldn't if they wanted to, but if he doesn't like scary, he doesn't like scary. Then he remembers something Steve had joked about in the orchard after Eddie had beaned him with that apple.

"Have you really already had three concussions?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah," Steve answers, "at least three that I know about. But not from falling apples. I'm fine. I promise."

"How'd you get them?" Eddie asks, because he isn't sure how one gets that many concussions unless they've been abused, and his stomach drops. Maybe he shouldn't have asked that. Maybe it's none of his goddamn business. Maybe-

"I got one from a dickhead in high school that blindsided me during a stupid fight, and then the other two from football plays in college, a couple weeks apart. One was a dirty, on purpose, helmet-to-helmet late hit, the last one was during a quarterback sneak that went wrong."

Eddie has no idea what that means.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks.

Steve looks at him, "Not a football guy?"

Eddie shakes his head adamantly, "Not an any sports guy. Sorry."

"That's okay," Steve says, "A quarterback sneak is when you only need to move a yard or two down the field to, say, get across the goal line to score, or get a first down, and the linemen in front of you, the big guys, push forward and the quarterback tries to carry it over himself. No hand-off. No throw."

"And you were the quarterback?"

"I was. I was a little too exposed, and one of the defensive players came in and hit me helmet to helmet in the dogpile. Snapped my neck backwards."

"I'm sorry," Eddie says.

"It happens. Most of the time you go into concussion protocol, and clear it. Mine wasn't even caught immediately after it happened. Not even by me. I hopped right back up, and it wasn't until I'd thrown a few uncharacteristic picks later, that they decided something must be wrong with me and pulled me out of the game and straight into the tent. Once the migraines started a few days later, and never really stopped after all the other symptoms went away, that was the end of the line. No more football. No NFL draft."

Eddie swallows, that's fucking rough.

"They forced you to stop?" Eddie asks. 

"Yes," Steve says, then must change his mind, "No. Not really. The specialists suggested it. I don't think they could have forced me to comply. Hell, they'll play you into the ground. But it would have been a risk to draft a known concussion magnet. So, it was a choice I had to make for myself, and I chose to stop, to preserve what I had left. Stop it at the occasional migraine. Of course Robin, my best friend, would have flayed me alive if I'd done anything else. She was the first to call it, and she was right."

"But you were good enough to go pro? If you hadn't taken those hits?" Eddie asks, quietly.

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?" Steve answers with a shrug, like he doesn't really care one way or the other, but he must care. He'd have to. Eddie knows he'd care if he couldn't play the guitar anymore, and he's never been anywhere near going professional.

"But you still watch it? Football? Even after losing the chance to play?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles, "Hell yeah. I still love the game. Even if I can't play."

Then he points at the screen, "I'm friends with #52. In the white. We went to college together. It all worked out better for him than it did me, but I couldn't be prouder of him. A little jealous, sure. But really proud, too."

"Do you ever get to go to games in person, or is that impossible with the bakery?"

"I try to hit one a season, as that's about all the favors I can call in with my friends. Coming in at three a.m. to get shit ready is a hard sell, let me tell you," Steve laughs, "That and they don't know what they're doing. So, it's just easier to just stay here. Watch on television. Scream at the refs from home instead of the stands."

"I know all about the screaming. I live with my uncle, and he has a sport for every season, I swear it. Getting him to move to Indy with me was no small feat, let me tell you," Eddie laughs, "But he needed to retire from the plant. He still works, because he's a stubborn old man, but now he's at a local hardware store instead, bossing clueless jackasses around. His words, not mine."

Steve laughs, "He sounds great."

"He is, and of course you'd think so, you sports guys always stick together."

Steve laughs, nodding like it's true, and then they go back to work. Baking, watching the game, and cheering on Steve's friend to a close game win.

And that evening, Eddie goes home with a still warm pie, and a phone number for Steve burning a hole in his pocket.

They spend the next two weeks texting back and forth, with a few short phone calls sprinkled in for good measure, but it hasn't gone beyond that. Eddie isn't sure if Steve's just busy or uninterested in setting up a second date. He wishes he'd just tell him. They could just be friends, but Eddie would rather know that now, instead of later once he's already gotten swept away by the idea of dating him, for real.

Eddie looks at his phone as Chrissy does his makeup, "Eyes up, Munson."

Steve hasn't responded, but he's probably asleep. Eddie puts his phone on the table, "Yes, ma'am."

She laughs, and gets him ready for another night of a constant loop of visitors to the maze. They've done this for a few years now, and they're all good at it, and it's not bad seasonal work. It helps pay the bills for the band to keep trying, stay plugging along. 

Eddie knows they aren't gonna make it big, not now, that window has closed. But they still make music together, good music he thinks, so taking on odd jobs to still do that has been worth it. 

Maybe after thirty he'll have to settle down, but for right now? He's just having fun.

"Tell me about the boy," she sing-songs, then changes her mind, "No, keep your mouth shut until I'm done with your face."

Eddie laughs, and keeps his mouth shut, as directed.

"But tell me later, though."

And he nods. He definitely will. Gareth's sick of hearing about Steve, so if he has a fresh pair of ears to listen to him yap, he's definitely all-in on that.

It's actually gotten chilly tonight, but when the second-to-last trailer full of guests pulls around the corner at quarter to two, Eddie sees Steve sitting next to a woman that has to be Robin. She just looks exactly like what Eddie imagined every time Steve's told a story about her. And she looks very grumpy about being awake in the middle of the night.

Eddie is stoked, and rushes around from Gareth to Jeff to Goodie to Chrissy, pointing out Steve, and then hurrying back to his spot for the last trailer. They don't really care all that much. He's sure they're happy for him, but they definitely just want to finish doing their jobs and get the fuck out of here for the night.

Steve's lingering by the employees only sign when Eddie exits backstage.

"You came," Eddie says, makeup hastily scrubbed off his face. It's a big no-no to interact with the guests in character, even if it's the guy you've been playing phone tag with for the last two weeks. He wasn't sure Steve would stay, but he did, and Eddie's fucking thrilled to see him.

"This is Robin," Steve says, slinging his arm over her shoulders.

Eddie starts to say hi, when the door bangs closed behind him, and he turns to see Chrissy on her way out.

"Night, Eddie," Chrissy says, as she passes by them, her dirty dead cheerleader costume slung over her arm.

"Was she the cheerleader?" Robin hisses, and Eddie nods. 

"Hey, Chris, wait!" he hollers, and drags her closer, making introductions. He's no dummy, he knows what that question entailed, and he has no problem playing a hint of matchmaker. And if they're talking, that'll give Eddie some time alone with Steve. 

The fact that Steve showed up at all, late at night, was a sacrifice of sleeping time. Eddie knows it, and appreciates it. So, he won't keep him. He'll send him back home to bed, or straight to the bakery, wherever he needs to be next, so he can get ready to make the donuts as Steve likes to say. 

"I'm glad you came," Eddie says, running his hand up Steve's arm. 

"Of course, I couldn't resist the opportunity to see you as the evil undead."

Eddie grins at him. He really likes this guy. 

"The bats were really believable."

Eddie grins, and tells him all about how he helped design them with his friends. They built the pulley system in Gareth's garage on the cheap, but it works, and well.

Steve nods along, then pulls Eddie into the darkness, where the floodlights don't reach. Eddie goes, willingly, sliding his hands along Steve's waist. 

And then they're kissing, and Eddie couldn't be more fucking thrilled. 

Steve is interested. And Eddie is definitely interested.

Steve's tongue slides along his, and Eddie squeezes him tighter, pulling Steve into his body, wanting to be closer. As close as they can get here in this dark alleyway. 

When Steve pulls back, he presses his forehead to Eddie's, and Eddie tries to look into his eyes this close-up.

"I've wanted to do that since the orchard," Steve says.

"Fuck, me too," Eddie admits. He'd like to do more, too, but Robin is yelling that her alarm is going off, meaning Steve's got to get to the bakery. 

Steve's day is just beginning, and Eddie's is just ending. Their schedules couldn't be more out of sync if they tried.

But Eddie reluctantly lets him go, they say their goodbyes, but Eddie is already scheming how he'll get to see Steve next.

The next morning, Eddie forces himself out of bed at a normal hour so he can go to the bakery. Gareth follows him to the van, tagging along without an invite, but Eddie doesn't care, as long as he can see Steve, it's all good.

Steve's behind the counter, and he grins when he sees Eddie come through the front door, "Hey!"

"Hey, yourself," Eddie says back, looking at the handwritten menu board. "Suggestions are welcome."

And Steve just laughs, and then produces a piece of cobbler that looks sticky and delicious.

"Sold," Eddie replies, taking the plate from him, and then nodding towards Gareth, "and whatever he wants. This is Gareth."

Gareth is looking in the glass case, paying no attention to either of them.

"So, this is the famous Eddie?" a girl who is not Robin asks, sidling up beside Steve at the counter.

"That's Eddie," Steve says with a smile, then introduces her, "This is Di."

She makes a shooing motion with her hands, "Go. Sit with him for a minute. I'll watch the counter," Di offers, pushing Steve from behind the register, and Eddie's grateful.

"Thanks, Di," Steve answers, pulling his apron off over his head, showing a strip of bare skin as it goes. His stomach is hairy and Eddie gulps, probably audibly, like he's in a cartoon.

He wants, he wants, he wants.

Steve picks up his coffee mug, and grabs a piece of cobbler for himself.

"Hey kid, head's up," Eddie says, and Gareth looks just in time to catch Eddie's wallet as Eddie tosses it to him. "Pick something and pay the nice lady."

"Yeah, yeah," Gareth says, and goes right back to looking at all his options.

Steve leads Eddie over to a table in the corner, and they sit and get to talk face-to-face, for the first time since their first afternoon here. Yeah, sure, he saw Steve last night, that was just a brief hi and bye.

It's nice to sit across from him again, and even nicer when Steve slides his hand forward, lacing their fingers together. Miraculously Gareth doesn't come over and cockblock him like the little shit that he is, instead lingering by the counter. 

Eddie looks back at Steve.

"You know, I don't really date," Steve admits, "I mean, the bakery hours keep my nightlife non-existent. And I've gotten used to that. But I really like you."

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up. Is he blushing? That's absurd, but he thinks it's probably true. He likes Steve. A lot. And he can deal with weird hours for Steve, he's damn certain. Dates at three in the afternoon? Awesome. He'll have just rolled out of bed a couple hours before that half the time anyway.

"But, I'd like to try. If you want to," Steve says, and Eddie nods.

"Yeah, I want to. I really like you, too."

Then the phone rings, and it's something Steve has to take, and Eddie glances at him one more time before he holds open the door with the jangly bell for Gareth to exit.

Steve's still looking at him, watching him go, so Eddie winks, and it makes Steve smile.

There's no plan, but Eddie knows he's gonna date the shit out of Steve Harrington.

Turns out, the whole dating with opposite schedules idea was way easier said than done. Eddie works every weekend night, all fall long, because that's the busy time. He works some weeknights, too, but those are easier to trade around for with his friends. So, weekends are definitely out, and he needs date ideas that don't mess with Steve's sleep schedule.

He's reading the paper that Wayne left on the coffee table as he sits on the couch and eats his cereal, when he sees that the local high school football team is playing next week, but that's on Friday. Duh. Friday Night Lights. Even he understands enough about football to get that that's a reference to the night they play. He may have needed three senior years to graduate, but he's not that dense. He keeps reading, and sees that the JV football team plays on Tuesday and the junior high team on Thursday. That's an idea. He doesn't really know what that means, but he knows who would.

"Hey, Wayne!" he yells, and when Wayne rounds the corner Eddie asks, "Tell me. Which is a better game to attend: JV or Junior High?"

"Game of what? Tiddlywinks? Dragons and Dragons?" Wayne prods, teasing him. Eddie damn well knows Wayne remembers what DnD is. He bought enough of those books for him in high school, it has to be seared into his old man brain. 

But Wayne glances over at him from his recliner he's just sat down in, waiting for Eddie to spill it.

Eddie lowers his voice and mumbles, "Football."

"What'd you say, I didn't hear you?" Wayne drawls, but he's grinning like he heard exactly what Eddie said.

"Shut up, old man," Eddie teases, "I'm sort of dating a guy. He likes football. Used to play. I thought it might be nice to take him to a game, and I obviously can't do a Friday night game this year because of work. But I thought Steve might like to go to one of these other games?"

"Steve, huh? This Steve have a last name?" Wayne asks, and Eddie rolls his eyes. Wayne doesn't need to try to vet this guy like he did every single person Eddie dated in high school. He's a grown man now, almost thirty. He picks better these days.

At least, he hopes he does.

"Harrington," Eddie answers, "and you're ignoring the question. JV? Junior High?" Then points his finger at the newspaper, crinkling it, "Or the local flag football team plays on Sundays. Help a guy out. Jeez."

But Wayne is just staring at him, mouth slightly open. Eddie's never seen him this shocked in his life. And Eddie did some wild shit in high school that Wayne swears made him go gray and bald.

"Yes, yes, I'm willing to go to a game. We're all shocked. Make fun. I have it coming. But close your mouth before you catch flies."

"No. Just. Steve Harrington, Ed? You, my nephew, who hates all sports sight unseen, is dating Steve Harrington? Heisman Trophy winner as a sophomore, that Steve Harrington?"

Eddie just shrugs, "I don't know about all that. He runs a bakery."

Wayne lets out a breathy laugh, "Right. He runs a bakery."

"He does," Eddie confirms. 

Wayne picks up his phone, puts on his reading glasses so Eddie knows he's serious, and finally turns the screen towards Eddie, "This your boy?"

Eddie smiles. He's younger, but yeah, that's definitely Steve, "Yep, that's Steve."

"I'll be damned, I knew he was from Indiana, but I didn't expect him to come back to our neck of the woods to run a bakery."

"You know my boyfriend, Wayne?" Eddie teases, lilting his voice, and batting his eyes.

"Anybody that followed football in the last decade knows of your boyfriend, Ed. He was gonna be a star, a franchise quarterback, for any team lucky enough to draft him."

Steve had said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to go pro, and now Eddie is doubting the validity of that, "He said he wasn't sure if he was good enough to make it pro."

Wayne laughs, "That boy would've been a first round pick. He's just being humble."

"Oh," Eddie says, "that's pretty cool. It's too bad he got hurt, then."

"It is," Wayne agrees.

"If he was as good as you say, why didn't he just go pro right out of high school?" Eddie asks, thinking this over. He's really not sure why you'd take the risk playing college football before you could make the big bucks.

"That's not how the NFL draft works. You have to be three years past graduation from high school before you're eligible. And what else are you gonna do for those three years, if not play ball at college?"

"Oh," Eddie says, then adds, "Good thing I wasn't good at football. I'd have been an old man trying to enter the draft."

Wayne laughs. It wasn't so funny when Eddie was bearing down on twenty-one and still trying to get that damn diploma, but they can laugh about it now. Water under the bridge.

Eddie then asks, "So, about the game…"

Wayne steered him towards the JV game, but told him over and over that all of the options were beneath the level of football that Steve Harrington was used to watching, or playing. 

Eddie decides to take him anyway.

Eddie buys the four dollar tickets at the gate from a mom sitting at a card table with a metal cash box in front of her, a button with her son's face pinned to her coat. He gives her a ten, and tells her to keep the change when she holds it in her hand, unmoving.

But that's just because she's staring at Steve, kind of starry-eyed. He is attractive, that's undeniable, and Eddie puffs up a little that he's the one getting to date him tonight.

Then Steve is accosted for pictures no less than seven times on the way to the stands, and Eddie wonders if he's made a mistake here. He didn't think it through, didn't understand that Steve would be known here.

Eddie escapes to the concessions stand, and when he comes back, arms full, there's a group of kids surrounding Steve. And Steve's engaged, and giving them what they want, clearly, but this isn't a good date. This seems more like he's trotted Steve out for the wolves. 

Everyone else finally clears out as kickoff happens, leaving them alone, and Eddie takes his seat next to Steve on the bleachers.

"Uh, did I fuck this up?" Eddie whispers, handing Steve a tray of nachos.

"No. No way, this is great," Steve reassures, a big smile on his face.

"I truly didn't understand that you'd be recognized here," Eddie says, "I don't know anything about sports. I'm in over my head. I just thought, well, maybe you'd like to see a game. Even if it's just kids."

"This is great, Eddie. You did great, honest," Steve says. "I'm not recognized outside of football. Don't worry. This isn't an everyday occurrence. This is a very isolated incident, because of where we are. Some of these kids probably watched me play. I'm not that old."

Eddie laughs, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. He definitely didn't want to make Steve uncomfortable.

And if he is, he never lets on. Instead, Steve explains the game to him as it goes, and it's a slow enough pace that Eddie thinks maybe he's understanding it. The football Steve had been watching on TV in the bakery had moved so fucking fast he had no hopes of following, not even when there was an instant replay to slow it down.

Steve's never seen these kids play before, but he can read them all like open books, calling plays, calling probable results before they happen. And he's right. Nine times out of ten, he's right. 

He should probably coach football. But maybe that's too painful? Eddie's definitely not gonna bring it up. 

They leave at halftime, and Eddie's sure it's only partly because Steve has to be up in less than eight hours. 

He still thinks it went well, because Steve leans over in the van and kisses him.

Eddie suddenly feels like he can't feel his face, even as he kisses back, hand cupping Steve's face, just wanting to touch him.

Eddie likes him so goddamn much, and as Steve pulls away, Eddie feels like they are no longer struggling to make a connection. They've done it. They're getting there.

Over the next few weeks, they have half-dozen more half-dates. Eddie catches the first quarter of a college football game, Steve's alma mater, on the television at the bakery with him before having to head to the maze for the night.

A few days later they grab fast food in Steve's car, and Eddie's definitely trying hard not to make a mess. Steve's car is nice, and Eddie's only used to his shitty van.

They carve out an hour to just lay in Steve's bed, kissing and touching, and eventually fucking before they need to part ways again.

Eddie wonders if they'll ever get to actually sleep in the same bed with shifts this ass-backwards from each other.

Spooky season comes and goes, and Eddie's back looking for some kind of other temporary work. He's complaining to Steve that nobody is hiring, even when they say they're hiring.

"Come work at the bakery," Steve says, "then maybe we'll finally get to see each other for longer than an hour at a time."

Eddie starts to say no, starts to deflect in a knee-jerk way, but then decides he'd really like to do that, "Really?"

"Really," Steve confirms. 

"I don't know how to bake, you know that," Eddie teases.

"You're not coming there to bake. Please, no. But you could run the register. Right?"

And Eddie thinks he'd like to do just that, so he nods and nods.

So, they work together, and sometimes go home with each other after. Both of them dozing on the couch while Wayne watches football, or cuddling up at Steve's place while Robin whines about it being her turn to cook dinner.

And Eddie ends up loving Robin, because working with her at the bakery might be almost as fun as it is working with Steve. She's not there all the time, but when she is, they run the front together, while Steve and Di have the back, and it's the least work feeling work he's ever done.

She's funny, and snarky, and loves Steve so much Eddie can feel it rolling off of her in waves. She kept him from getting hurt further. She made sure he'd be okay, even if Eddie's sure Steve felt anything but at the time.

He talks up Steve's baked goods, upselling easily, turning a half-dozen box into a full dozen more often than not. Eventually he sneaks around while Steve isn't looking, and hangs his own picture on the wall, labeled underneath as Employee of the Month, as a joke.

When Steve finally notices it, it stays. Eddie's part of the place, now. And he couldn't be happier about that. Harrington's is fun, and relaxed, and he's honestly never gotten this invested in a job before. He wants it to succeed, because he wants Steve, and the rest of his friends, to succeed. And yeah, he's sure Steve has a lot to do with that, but still, the fact that he's enjoying it is a bonus he hadn't foreseen coming.

He helps clean up every afternoon, so they can get out of there faster, together. Today, with the cold winter air blowing, snow flurries are blustering around, stinging his face as they hit. So, he hugs Steve from behind as he locks the back door in the alley where they park, hiding his face in Steve's coat.

"Hello to you, too," Steve flirts, and Eddie smirks as soon as he realizes this is gonna be a short afternoon, because when they get home, they are definitely going straight to bed. 

And they do just that. It's cold outside, but the warm winter sunlight is pouring through the windows, made brighter by the snow on the ground, and Eddie's in love.

Steve looks fucking gorgeous, the light hitting him that way, letting that glow he always has about him shine through from the inside out.

Eddie runs his fingers over his body, his athletic frame that sees no playing time, anymore. He runs to keep in shape, but Eddie thinks he'd run too if he had that kind of albatross slung around his neck. If he'd lost the thing he loved most, the thing he'd hung his whole hat on.

If he'd lost possible rings and millions of dollars.

Steve's almost twenty-nine. He'd be hitting his peak, his best years of play.

But Steve's happy. He's not a bitter guy. He loves his bakery, and he loves his friends and-

"What's," Steve breathes out, easing up on his pace, "what's with the face?"

"I love you," Eddie blurts out.

Steve smiles, so fucking wide it feels like it cracks open Eddie's chest, "Well, don't look so sad about it then."

And Eddie laughs, reaching up to grasp Steve's hips, helping him regain his momentum. The spiral he was headed down on Steve's behalf, broken.

Steve doesn't want Eddie dwelling on the past. Especially if he doesn't do it himself. There are no pity parties happening in Steve Harrington's orbit.

"I love you, too. Now fuck me like you're not gonna cry about it."

Eddie huffs out a laugh, so fucking charmed and delighted by this man that he loves. He'll fuck him all right. 

"Hold on then, big boy," Eddie teases, and thrusts upwards, carrying the weight of Steve with him off the bed.

Maybe instead, they'll just hit their primes together.

Eddie starts to become a morning person against his will as the months wear on, and Steve will have to pay for that, eventually. But not today.

No, today he's more than fine with going to bed at eight-thirty, dicking down his boyfriend, then afterwards both of them will be sound asleep by nine. 

Gareth is hanging around the bakery more and more, and before Eddie realizes it, Steve and Di have taught Gareth how to bake. And he's somehow good at it. Gareth eventually weasels his way into a full-time job, too. Which gets Eddie's wheels turning. Maybe by next fall, Eddie can surprise Steve with tickets to an NFL game to watch his friend play, because together they are slowly building up enough of a staff to run the store in their absence.

It doesn't have to just be Steve anymore. It can be all of them.

Next fall, Eddie thinks.

And he smiles.

He's planning ahead, now. Planning for a future, one that he intends to share with Steve.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddie-spooktober to follow along with the fun! 🍎

[merakiui]

Oh man the TWST boys as slashers with a final girl reader…the possibilities are endless!

Jade and Floyd as a Ghostface duo who terrorize you and your group of friends, while hiding in plain sight. You think you managed to finally incapacitate the tweels, but out of nowhere another Ghostface shows up and kills your last reminding friend. He unmasks himself and it’s Azul, the student council President

Or Epel…whose farm you and your friends take refuge at after your van runs out of gas. His family takes pride in their prize apple orchard, and they find your friends’ obnoxious and boisterous airs to be annoying. But not you. Epel thinks you’re so sweet and gentle. You don’t make fun of his accent and don’t laugh at his stature like on of your stupid friends did. Epel thinks you’d be a perfect little farm wife, while your friends would serve as the perfect fertilizer for the orchard, a recipe that has been passed down through the family for ages.

Or…that strange horned man that shows up in your dreams. You have no idea who he is, how you were able to conjure him up in your imagination, but it seems he shows up every night to simply relish in your company and dance with you in the foggy dreamscape. Your friends dream of Malleus too…right before the dreams turn into nightmares, and the brutal death they experience in the dream somehow kills them in real life.

GHOSTFACE AZUL.......... AND HE'S THE STUDENT COUNCIL PRESIDENT????????? WAAAAAAAA anon, this thought will be plaguing my mind FOREVER. AAAAAAA and maybe it's a school you go to that is full of the wealthy (so essentially NRC without the magic), so it absolutely rocks the student body when students start going missing and turning up dead in brutally efficient ways. How is it possible??? The affluent neighborhood is known to be safe. No one would ever suspect perfect Student Council President Azul Ashengrotto, who only ever has everyone's best interests in mind. >_< thinking about Zuzu killing out of revenge. He's got a list of all of the people who bullied him and you're on it, but as your friends start to die one by one he sees you soften (mostly out of fear) and suddenly you're not that same bully who tormented him all throughout his childhood. He's starting to get attached. orz

Slasher Epel... uwuuwaaaa it's too perfect. OTL Epel killing all of your friends and forcing you to be his farm wifey!!!!!!! You don't want to end up like your friends, used as fertilizer or chopped up and fed to the pigs. >_< learning to be a good wife for him by starting a family with him and slowly being conditioned into the domestic life. <3

And the Malleus idea!!!! :O *chef's kiss* he is a horror beyond comprehension, but to you he's just the soft, horned sweetheart who visits your dreams to waltz and chat with you. It seems as if anyone who gives you a hard time turns up dead, and your dreams keep getting sweeter and sweeter. You'll stay in the dream and never want to wake up, won't you? After all, isn't a life spent in bliss with your new horned friend far better than the scary reality that awaits you outside of your dreams? :) in choosing Malleus, you never wake up again.

May I offer slasher Cater in return? orz orz orz the duality of bright, bubbly uni student Cater versus the scary, silent slasher who's coming after you and your friends during your spring break trip to a beach house on some desolate strip of shore. >:D

[no-where-new-hero]

Throwing in my hat into the LMM Rankings ring with...

Favorite LMM Abodes

Top Tier: Homiest Homes I Want to Live In

The Disappointed House (Emily of New Moon). A home you've loved since you were a child but isn't your childhood home but a fantasy of being grown-up and independent. A home you do eventually share with the love of your life. But also a home you got to decorate exactly according to your taste because your wealthy older paramour bank-rolled the operation and understood about the necessity of cupboards. A home haunted by ghosts but they're friendly and familiar ghosts. No, it may not be homey to most, but it is because it so aptly feels like an extension of you.

Patty's Place (Anne of the Island). On the other hand, sometimes you just want to live out a kind of intellectual sapphic eden with some friends and your gal pal and your gal pal's cool aunt and a couple of cats. A home that welcomes men and romance *sometimes* and then the rest of the time it's books and fireplaces and chats and hijinks.

Green Gables (AOGG). This is in the top tier simply because I couldn't bear to put it anywhere else. It's the place where Anne finds herself, finds love and companionship, endures some of her most important experiences.

2nd Tier: Homes I wouldn't mind living in as long as I acclimated to rural life

New Moon (EONM). Emily may love skimming pans for cream and helping Jimmy boil pigs potatoes but such arts are beyond me. At the same time, I'm not afraid of cows. And the garden and graveyard and orchard are manor-house-level accessories these days, so I would feel quite grand living here.

Lantern Hill (Jane of Lantern Hill). At least Jane doesn't farm, and I think I could handle her kitchen providing I had her supply of kitchen gadgets. I have also toasted my face while broiling fish, so I'm aware of the housekeeping hazards.

Cloud of Spruce (Magic for Marigold). This is this high up simply because it's well known for its cats and has a cozy, contented air despite its denizens. It feels less real than LMM's other houses, but everyone dreams of living in a fairy house once in a while.

3rd Tier: Homes that are Characters (so does that mean being in them implicates me in the narrative?)

The Mistawis cottage (The Blue Castle). TBC is a Gothic romance to me simply because of how important the cottage is (though it's also a Bluebeard retelling apparently so!) to Valancy as a person. A little wild, a little reclusive, but open and giving to those it loves. I would love a Blue Castle but I personally could not stand the mosquitoes that would invade off the water.

Silver Bush (Pat of Silver Bush). It's been very well argued that Silver Bush is the love of Pat's life and that Pat exists more as the numen of her house than as a real person. The house gets its own "introducing" chapter, laid out without a character's intermediary. It's huge, overwhelming, a more parasitic version of New Moon.

Tansy Patch (Emily of New Moon). The fact that Teddy comes from a House (unlike Ilse, who just has a house, and Perry, whose Stovepipe Town above is vague and ambiguous) automatically makes him important. He comes from this shadowy place, but do its shadows follow him? And how far?

4th Tier: Picturesque

Ingleside (AOGG). I've seen the real house that Ingleside is based off of, and it's not aesthetically my cup of tea, but I've always thought it would be glorious to grow up in a big rambling, bustling, bursting-with-people house. But it lacks a bit of oomph in the narrative.

Wyther Grange (Emily of New Moon). On the other hand, the Grange packs a punch in its small inclusion. I would like to spend a night in the pigeon-haunted pink room, please and thank you.

Echo Lodge (Anne of Avonlea). The echoes and Miss Lavender seem good company, but I would not be able to hide away there for years and years (I'm always posting on this damn blog).

I know there are more I'm forgetting, but here's what I've got so far. Would love to know other people's rankings too!

[thecapricunt1616]

Promptober Day 11👻

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛 (𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭): Eva had gotten off the school-bus at your and Richie’s house yesterday afternoon for your weekend together. This morning you had planned a family outing with Richie, your 3 and a half year old son together, Ricky, and Eva to go apple picking at the local orchard, as well as go to the little petting zoo and rides that they had on the property for the kids.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hi there everyone! Welcome to promptober day 11/31! We have our lovely Richie Jerimovich for todays prompt! I hope you enjoy :D! As always,  you can view my schedule & masterlist for this celebration right 🦇here🦇! You can also view the same for my 2024 Kinktober celebration right 🎃here🎃! & If you'd like to be added to the taglist for either celebration, comment on the according masterlist & I will add you! 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.2k+ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None really just fluff and an age gap relationship that is 2 fully grown adults (35&50) No use of y/n! 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬: @/𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗸𝗮-𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗰𝘀 & @/𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗶𝗰𝘀

Eva had gotten off the school-bus at your and Richie’s house yesterday afternoon for your weekend together. This morning you had planned a family outing with Richie, your 3 and a half year old son together, Ricky, and Eva to go apple picking at the local orchard, as well as go to the little petting zoo and rides that they had on the property for the kids. 

You were about 5 months along with your second, and you had both agreed that this was the last one as Richie was turning 50 right around when the baby would be born, and you were rounding 35 so you discussed with your doctor that you were getting your tubes tied when you had your C-Section. 

Thankfully the morning went fairly smooth, Ricky wasn’t being fussy and slept quite well the night before- and Eva as always was her normal, helpful angel self. As you drove to the orchard Richie held his hand over your bump, rubbing gentle strokes with your hand covering his. 

“Mama are we going to see goats?” Ricky asked and Eva nodded happily 

“We’re going to see goats and little pigs! We have to wash our hands though really good after” she told him and you smiled looking back at them 

“That’s right Eva very smart. And remember Ricky we don’t put our fingers in our mouth, cause we don’t wanna get sick” you told him and he nods 

“And daddy can get the big apples cause he’s tall!” Ricky said happily and Richie chuckled 

“That’s right bub, I can put you on my shoulders and you can get even bigger ones for us, how’s that sound?” He asked and Ricky clapped his hands happily as Richie turned into dirt lot where you park for the orchard. 

“Momma can we get the kind of apples to make pie? I wanna make 2! So I can bring one home to Mommy and Papa-Frank” Eva asked excitedly and you nodded with a bright smile 

“Sure baby! That’ll be so nice! I’m sure Uncle Carmy and Auntie Syd are gonna love to try that when they come over for dinner Sunday hmm?” You ask and she nodded happily. 

Richie helped get Ricky unloaded and held him on his shoulders, holding your hand and Eva being sure to walk close by. He put on his dad-looking Oakley sunglasses and Eva groans 

“Daaaaad- Come on! Why can’t you wear the sunglasses uncle Carmy wears?” She asks as you walk and he chuckles, feigning offence 

“What?! You don’t find these super cool?” He teased her as you approached the gate, purchasing tickets for the 3 of you since under 5 was free. 

“No they’re so old school” Eva said, causing you and Richie to crack up. You held hands as you walked over to the petting zoo and Richie let Ricky down off of his shoulders 

“Alright Mum and Dad are gonna stand right here, Eva make sure your brother plays nice with the animals ye’?” He told her and she nods as he squatted to Ricky’s level 

“Alright bubba we’re not gonna chase the animals ok? You be nice and get down on their level and they’ll come to you yeah? And pet them nice how you pet Bella and Moo at home, gentle ok?” He explained to him in a firm but kind voice and Ricky nods with a smile. 

“I’ll be nice daddy” he gives Richie a big hug and Richie kissed the top of his silky brunette hair. 

“That’s a good boy. Ok, go ahead with your sister, you hold her hand, yeah? You don’t let go of her hand” he explained and Ricky nodded, looking up at Eva and grabbing her hand obediently. They walked into the little pen together and Richie stood back up, his knees cracking a bit and he groaned. 

“The cracks get louder every day I get closer to 50” he teased, wrapping his left arm around your waist and resting his hand on your bump, rubbing gently. You giggled at his comment, shaking your head before resting it on his shoulder. 

“You’re the best Dad ever” you said and he smiled, blushing a bit and kissing the top of your head. 

“It helps if I have the best mom helpin’ me out, especially when I throw my back out after too much gymnastics spotting” he joked and you laughed a bit, covering your mouth 

“And she made states! I know you’ll never forget the look on her face when she got it so it makes up for the 3 days of Vicodin right?” You said and he chuckled, nodding as he watched your son gently pet a piglet. 

“That’s right” he smiled. You had to practically pry both of the kids away from the petting zoo after 30 minutes so you could do what you actually came here to do, pick apples. You made sure to stop at the store in the orchard to have the kids wash their hands before you went out to the apple trees, both Richie and Eva holding a basket, Ricky perched up on Richie’s shoulders happily. 

“So we’re gonna want about 30 apples for the pies and for mommy’s snacking, your little sister has been craving Pink Lady apples” you tease Eva and she giggled rubbing your belly gently as you walk 

“I’m glad she doesn’t make you sick anymore. I don’t like when you’re sick” she said and hugged your side, causing you to pout and kiss her head as you walk with her 

“I don’t like being sick either Evie, you’re my best girlfriend! Who else am I gonna bake treats for daddy with mmm?” You ask and she giggled, shaking her head 

“Yeah so he can gobble them up in one day like one of those piggy’s we just pet daddy” she teased, poking his arm and he chuckled 

“It’s not my fault! I told you I had to make sure none of them had any poison!” He joked and you found a suitable tree towards the back that hadn’t been picked over 

“Alright! Get to work, gotta earn your keep!” You teased Eva, handing over the basket and she laughed, standing on her tip toes to grab an apple and Ricky happily grabbed plenty from the higher branches that were large and ripe, handing them to his dad to put in the basket. 

“Wow wait until I tell uncle Carmy that you used illegal child labor to make their delicious pie!” She said and you snort a laugh 

“What do you know about the law Miss thing? What are you- 13? You went to Harvard already?” You joked, holding the basket for her as the picked the apples and dropped them in happily 

“I take law for my elective in school this semester Mumma! Eighth grade is different, remember? I get a special class every semester!” She reiterated and you hum 

“Ahhhh I see! Babe - we have a future lawyer on our hands, we may have to afford Harvard” you told him and he looks back 

“I’m sure we can find a smarty like that a scholarship - then she can retire us to the Caribbean when she wins a huge case” he joked and you laughed, rolling your eyes playfully as Eva and Richie continued to chatter about her law class and aspirations for her future while Ricky picked out the greenest prettiest apples he could find. 

Your little family was perfection. 

Fin

Tag List: @automaticllamacycle - @carmenberzattosgf - @daysofyellowroses - @mouseymilkovich - @galactiicpup - @gallaghersgal - @maggiesarchives - @carmybrainworms - @l4long-winded - @babyspiderling - @southsideserendipity - @djlnkaled

[chimchiri]

Poll Adventure: Rarijack Dinner

Index | [prev] - Part 04 - [next] Special thanks to @babydarkstar for putting out the great writing

Previous Poll:

~~~

“What did you have in mind?”

“Orchard’s a bit of a wreck this time of year,” AJ says, glancing out the window at the apple trees lining the hills and hanging heavy with fruit. Not too far off, Big Mac’s standing on a ladder situated under a tree; she can see Apple Bloom yelling up at him from below, barrels full of apples at her feet. She says something with that adorable, sometimes annoying little smug spark in her eye, and Big Mac shakes his head with a laugh before tossing an apple down to her. She lunges for it with her hands clasped behind her back, letting it smack her right in the face as she tries to grab it with the few front teeth she hasn’t lost to the tooth fairy yet.

Yeah. Definitely somewhere else. AJ loves her family more than anything, but—Rarity deserves to go somewhere nice. Across the house and through the open front door, she can hear Granny belting out an old song about pigs in mud—

“I’m thinkin’ we go out. You know the restaurant in town? Haven’t been in a while, and I heard there’s a new menu. How’s Saturday?”

“That sounds simply divine, darling, and I would love to…but I can’t commit to this weekend,” Rarity says regretfully, and AJ nearly drops her phone, “I’m in Manehattan the rest of the week for my new line. It is critical that I’m here to make the finishing touches. Fancy Pants is personally endorsing the reveal and there cannot be a single mishap, not one.”

“Oh—“

“Please don’t think I’m avoiding you, darling. Perhaps we can schedule something for the same time next week?”

“No!” AJ begins rather forcefully, and she clears her throat so she won’t say something else before thinking, “I meant…no big deal. How about I come to you instead? I’m sure I can find somewhere good for you—for…us.” 

There’s a short pause before Rarity responds. 

“Applejack, are you sure, darling? Of course I’d love to have you here…but only if it wouldn’t be too much for you. If you aren’t busy with your duties on the farm, as well. I know that the big city isn’t exactly your cup of…cider.”

“Nothin’s too much for me when it comes to you, sugar.” 

AJ’s heart flutters when she hears the soft, breathy laughter of her crush over the phone.

“If you insist,” Rarity says, the smile evident in her voice, “There are a few places I could call. I’m friends with practically everyone here, you know.” 

AJ shakes her head. “You just rest up and let me do the work. I’ll get everything together.” 

This isn’t up for debate—she’s dead set on being a gentlewoman. If this is going to be a real date then she’ll make sure it’s a damn good one. Which includes making sure that Rarity can just enjoy the evening and not have to worry about anything.

Rarity lets out a sweet laugh, which pitches high at the end, a little too strained. 

“Oh, no, there will be no resting for me. After I finish this job, I need to come up with something spectacular to wear for our date. Now that we’re going out on the town, I need something divine—something fabulous…” she trails off before continuing, “But I’ll be ready. Just let me know. Oh! When will you arrive, dear? I’m not sure I can make it to the train station to greet you…I’ll be so busy…but you know where the boutique is.”

“I’ll find you. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Not to worry, darling. I doubt I could ever work nearly as hard as you do.”

AJ rubs the back of her neck, her face hot. “Psshaw, I’m not sure about that…”

The toe of her boot scuffs the wooden floor and she stares down at it, grinning like an idiot in the silence.

“Well…shall I see you Saturday, then?” Rarity posits. 

“Yeah, Saturday.”

“Alright, darling, I’ll see you then,” Rarity says softly.

“Bye Rarity.” She sounds almost shy when she says her name.

There’s a click and then the call is over. AJ swears her heart skips a beat as she stares down at her phone. This is actually happening.

It still feels like a dream, and she hopes to never wake up.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling. She could run a marathon with all the energy tingling up her spine.

But—

It already looks like she’s been running at full speed—she’s drenched in sweat. Well…no surprise there.

“Ugh…I should shower,” she murmurs upon noticing the stains under her arms.

~~~~

AJ thought she’d have trouble sleeping, but after finishing her chores with a spring in her step, she knocked out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The next morning, however, anxiety crawled its way into her chest. 

She couldn’t stop daydreaming at breakfast, racking her brain for a restaurant in Manehattan. There were so many other things she had to do before that, too. 

AJ didn’t really consider what it’d mean to have a date in Manehattan—she was just so sold on the fact that their date couldn’t wait. 

She has some nice clothes in her closet - but do they fit a fancy restaurant in the big city? 

Does she even know how to behave so she doesn’t embarrass herself and Rarity during the date? Sure, she’s polite, but she’s not versed on the social mores of Mane—

Granny snapping her fingers and hollering her name pulled AJ from her thoughts, only to find all three family members staring at her curiously.

“Sorry, Granny…what was it you said?”

“Well, it’s been s’darn long since I asked ya, I can’t remember nuthin’ I said!” 

AJ didn’t tell anyone yet. For one, she wanted to pull it through on her own. But she also didn’t want anyone to gossip beforehand and cause her embarrassment. She got enough inquiring questions about her relationship status, especially from Applebloom.

After breakfast, she got to work on the chores around the farm.

Anyways, now that she could think again…

Would she need a present for Rarity? 

Was there anything else she needed to prepare?

What if none of the restaurants she’d thought of end up being a good fit for Rarity?

AJ’s mind spins and spins and now she lays in the shade of an apple tree, staring up at the sky.

Well, she’ll admit it—she’s lost and has no clue where to start.

Yeah, she’ll definitely need some help…

She could ask one of her friends. She’s close enough to any of them, especially Rainbow—but Rainbow can’t keep a secret to save her life, and she’d probably just tell her to “Be awesome, duh” and that Rarity likes AJ enough that she doesn’t need to be fancy. Which…is a great sentiment, but would it help in the long run? Mm…she’s not so sure. AJ feels like it wouldn’t stay a secret for long if she told any of her friends. Would she even mind? They’re all helpful in their own ways. 

Then again…she could also ask her family for support. She hopes they would keep news of her date a secret. Oof…some of those conversations might be a bit more embarrassing, now that she thinks about it...but Granny’s lived and loved, and Big Mac always gives sage advice. Applebloom is her biggest cheerleader when it comes to anything at all.

 

---

Tag List: @mrrrpmeow @babydarkstar @butwerebothmares @chaosdraconequus @chrysaliswife @gaywombat @mulan-but-gay @jubjub05 @dan-chan-rn @sanybaby @horserepository @justletmesnarkandbark

[quitealotofsodapop]

Erlang does tell, that's how the Peach Maidens and Gold Star learned about the baby. Or rather, that the baby had arrived. They all zip over to Lao Tzu's lab for congratulations. When the Emperor and Queen Mother learn, they also send a courtesy congratulatory visit, 'Twas the least they could do after everything

referencing.

Yesss! Btw I had no idea that the seven maidens mentioned in JTTW were supposed to be JE and the Queen Mother's daughters until I drafted up the Celestial Family tree XD

The Orchard Maidens immediately drop whatever they were doing (fruit baskets, wine cups, ladders etc) to zoom over to Lao Tzu's lab and finally get a look at the baby!

The sheer amount of delighted squealing and awes that fill the room when the Maidens reach the lab nearly deafens Mac.

Yuebei is tiny, and has such lovely black fur and glowing ears. The Maidens praise and fret over Wukong as when he was a fellow attendant. Wukong is just smiling and wagging his tail like a happy dog getting praised. Yes! His baby is so cute and strong!

Meanwhile, Macaque is covering his ears and hiding at Wukong's side cus he isn't sure how welcome he is in Heaven rn... only for the Maidens to immediately recognise him as "their littlest sister's [PIF] friend!" and immediately start praising him for being so protective of his mate and baby!

And ofc the second the girls see MK, they are asking so many questions! Who is this handsome little cub? Is he their son? Oh! His babas are the pig-man and the teacher outside? How adorable! A lovely mixed family! They are overall super adoring of their adoptive little brother's new troop, and act like delighted aunties towards Yuebei, MK, and Bai He (someone they swear that they recognise).

Erlang ofc got eye-lazered by a startled Yuebei, so he just left his congrats card and "It's a Girl!" balloon at the lab before heading off to inform the Emperor and Queen Mother. Lao Tzu jokingly suggests getting the shadowpeach couple eye protection incase Yuebei has "trigger eyes".

The Queen Mother is super intriuged by Yuebei's arrival, especially since it's become common knowlegde *why* Sun Wukong sought out so many immortalities. She is the first of the royal couple to come get a look and offer her blessing - she briefly stops at the sight of the baby girl's midnight-black hair and big blue eyes; the little face reminding her of her own daughters. She certainly guffaws at the knowledge that Yuebei tried to eat the Samadhi Fire before she was even born! Wukong is pleasantly surprised at how kind the Queen is to him given the circumstances, but evidently Yuebei's presence quells at lot of anger. The Queen Mother makes a point of sending many gifts for Yuebei's man yue (one month celebration) to show her good faith.

The Jade Emperor sends a bottle of peach wine in the mail. He's currently holed up in his office teriffed of what Yuebei will grow up to be/what his wife will do to him when she gets back from hearing about Wukong's troubles during the Journey.

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Cast: The Smiling Critters (or "Smiling Buddies")

Please refer to the below post as well:

(Attached link is for both halves of the art, designed by togebora)

A colourful band of friends, these are who you may (or may not) know as the Smiling Critters! Well, they are different in the IAB! continuity than you may know them in Poppy Playtime, especially over in Dimension MP-2021, where their roles are most prominent.

In this universe, they are NOT fictional characters from a TV show or toy lineup, but they are instead real characters in-universe who co-exist alongside everyone else in MP-2021. As it happened, all eight had applied for Bumper High School at the beginning of One More Hero and were getting ready to study alongside OMT!Tails and the ApocalypseTitan kid characters.

Daylight the Pup (DogDay)

The leader of the friend group and one of the most optimistic of the eight. He's shown to be very loyal to his friends, and he's one of the first OMT!Tails passes by on the open week at the school.

Bubba the Elephant (Bubba Bubbaphant)

The blue elephant member and one of the top students in classes, up there with OMT!Tails (mainly in math and science) and Max Cartwright. He's naturally smart and has a really good memory for things, and he's sometimes about to keep check on the below-mentioned petition and see how it's coming along.

Kickroyale the Chicken (Kickin' Chicken)

The yellow chicken member who is full of radical attitude for those around him and can be pretty smug about stuff. Though it does cause trouble on occasion for those around him, he's still got a good heart, and he's a bit of a softie deep down. Though he is the "cool kid" of his gang, he is pretty prone to fear, and is open to asking others for help if he really needs it.

As it happens, in One More Hero, he's the first to come to OMT!Tails and Bobby's aid when Benny starts bullying them for the heck of it (and even had the gall to mock Bobby's all-loving status), and he kept his trap shut when Richard attacked the school in More than One Universe to avoid being noticed.

Picky Patch the Pig (PickyPiggy)

The pink pig member and the big eater of the bunch. Contrary to her name, she isn't picky, but she enjoys lunchtimes at school and usually picks something filling and healthy to have for her daily meals. Of course, she can be picky about trying light snacks or fast foods, due to not wanting to be unhealthy in her life.

Picky is also one of the most optimistic and level-headed in the group, and is there to calm the others down if things are getting out of hand. And out of the goodness in her heart, when she heard that OMT!Tails was off sick, she shared some apples she had picked from an orchard for him to enjoy.

Hoppy Scotch the Bunny (Hoppy Hopscotch)

The green rabbit member and the most excitable of the bunch. She gives a lot of enthusiasm to friends around her, though can come off as loud or impatient sometimes because of this, so she does make time to slow down for her friends.

Of the bunch, she was one of the bigger fans of OMT!Sonic when he was still alive, and aspired to be able to run fast like him, hence her decision to ask OMT!Tails to give running or hopping a shot with her whenever they got the chance to hang out.

Crafty "CraftyCorn" Canvas the Unicorn

The white, yet colourful, unicorn member and one of the more shy members. She is shy around meeting new people, but especially enjoys art and the vast wonders it can create. As an aspiring artist, she finds it very important to share the art she creates with others and finding beauty in pretty much anything around her.

She's the Smiling Buddy who has the most influence in points of One More Hero's plot, as she had heard about the rising prevalence of AI in art theft and disliked the idea, so she enlisted OMT!Tails's help to go and get people to sign her petition to make AI art outright illegal in Dimension MP-2021.

OMT!Tails did find some difficulty in getting all the required signatures at first, but when the alternate crew from the Blur Gang came along, that's when he made excellent progress, and he handed the finished petition back to Crafty at the end of the story for her to put forward. She even painted a picture of him (including one with his nano-suit) and sent it to him as a thank you for what he did.

Bobby Hugster the Bear (Bobby Bearhug)

The young red bear member and the all-loving part of the gang. She's a young girl who shows love and compassion for pretty much anybody, no matter who they are. However, this all-loving status doesn't come without its flaws, as it leaves her vulnerable to bullying, which she wouldn't have made it through if not for people like OMT!Tails and Kickroyale having her back.

In One More Hero, she's the first to see how nervous Tails is about settling into his new school in those next six months, and offers him some starting companionship while he gets to grips with the place. And once she heard about what went down with Uma, she's the first to comfort OMT!Tails once he returns to the school dorms, knowing just how difficult it must be for him to cope with.

Of course, thanks to her being there whilst OMT!Tails was being comforted by the Blur Gang, it meant she also got caught up in the crazy hide-and-seek when Danny entered the room, and then pinned in the room with OMT!Tails when the Blur Gang headed out to shut down Eggman Nega's invention themselves, though she was freed once Tails got his heroic second wind.

Naksh the Cat (CatNap)

The last member of the Smiling Buddies, and arguably the one who's changed THE MOST from his original counterpart. He's not constantly sleepy, but he is selectively mute and hasn't smiled a lot, even when with his friends. He had a rough home life and finds comfort in being around people who genuinely get it.

He does show up to help comfort OMT!Tails after Uma is hospitalised, though due to being more nervous, he doesn't stick around after the Blur Gang arrive at his dorm, though does show fascination when he witnesses proof of the multiverse from them.

Through this knowledge, he saw about his portrayals from Playtime Co. and the horrors of the factory, and isn't afraid to show his dislike for BOTH portrayals, feeling they don't capture who he really is at all.

And in general...

Each of them enjoy being around OMT!Tails and have all supported him from the sidelines in his quest to protect Mobius from destruction at the hands of crazed villains. Though their roles are not as major as anyone from the Blur Gang, Quill Society or rogues gallery, they all still make sure to do their part where it counts.

Small Note

For all you Poppy Playtime fans that saw this post and liked it, welcome to my blog, where I post stuff related to a story based on Spider-Verse, but with hedgehogs, foxes and other characters from the Sonic multiverse. Be sure to stick around here to see more!

And as a side-note to you guys, the Smiling Critters (who I'll admit are my personal favourites from the game) are going to be the ONLY representation of Poppy Playtime in ALL of IAB!. That means the rest of the characters are absent in Dimension MP-2021 outright.

[googleitlol]

Whoooooooo's ready for depression???

Hehe, double upload to make up for not getting this out sooner. Anyway, here's some more grief and angst for you guys!

Dove Masterlist:

Banished

Once everyone finishes, your trek through the mountains continues. You find yourself looking between Wukong and Tripitaka on occasion, the tension from the fight still thick in the air between them. You still find yourself unable to comprehend the truth behind the dead girl, though the more you think about it, the less sense you’re able to find in the story. 

Yes, Monkey King shouldn’t have killed a human, but you find yourself confused on what a young woman would be doing alone in the middle of nowhere with a bowl of rice in the first place. You flew over the mountain in search for the peach orchard, but didn’t see any signs of a settlement nearby. The entire situation is just odd to you.

You notice the twitch of Monkey’s ear, his body stiffening as his eyes narrow. “Someone is approaching down the path.” The others look ahead, you and Tripitaka squinting to see an elderly figure growing closer to your group.

“It looks like an old woman.” Pigsy grunts. “I only hope she isn’t looking for a young daughter, seeing as we all know what she would find.” “Shush, Idiot.” You hiss, though the possibility of the old woman knowing the girl Wukong murdered plants a seed of worry in your stomach. It is strange, though. You understand that you might have missed one traveller on your earlier flight, but did you miss this woman as well? Usually, you’re better at scoping out the land ahead of you.

Your confusion hardly matters, because in the blink of an eye, Sun Wukong is already at the old woman’s side. Your eyes widen as you watch the demon swing his staff down on the elderly lady in the flash of a moment, her body crumpling to the ground before Tripitaka can call out a warning to his disciple.

There’s hardly a moment for you to blink before Wukong’s body joins the limp woman’s on the ground, hands clenched around his circlet when you and the others manage to reach him. Tripitaka continues the spell for some time, your weight shifts from one foot to the next as you watch him scream out in agony. What can you say this time? His attack was unprovoked. She hadn’t even spoken a word to any of you before the King took her life. How could he have known she was a threat? She hardly looked able enough to be trekking through the mountain.

Even after the monk finishes reciting his spell, he gives Wukong little time to breathe. “Are you mad?! I scold you for killing that woman and you murder the next one you see?!”

“That was no woman, it was a monster!” The disciple shouts between heavy breaths. “The same as before.”

“The very same one you killed?” Tripitaka challenges, his demon disciple frowning at the question.

He looks down, his eyes flicking left and right as though he might find the answer there. “I, I don’t know how she survived my first strike.”

“Did that young woman not say she lived nearby with her family?” Pigsy intertwines himself in the conflict again, though his question makes you frown. “What if this elder was that girl’s mother?”

You snap at the demon. “Be quiet, Pig! I saw no homes when I flew over the mountain.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that Wukong has killed two innocents in less than a day.” He bites back with a smug grin, his arms crossed.

“Enough.” Tripitaka makes himself heard once more, his disciples looking back to see him pinching his nose. “Sun Wukong, I cannot keep looking the other way for you.”

He looks back down at the sage as he gets back onto his feet, his expression tired. “If you cannot help but give into your unruly nature, there is no place for you here.” The sage’s eyes widen at that, an uncertain frown overtaking his features at his master’s words.

The look is quickly masked by anger, and you take a step towards the monk as the demon marches up to the man. “Fine, if that’s how you feel, I’ll leave. But if I have no reason to be here, at least do me the courtesy of freeing me from this cursed leash!”

The monk opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes out. His brows furrow while Wukong waits for a reply that doesn’t come. The monk turns to you, and though you understand his silent question, the answer eludes you as well. The monkey follows his master’s gaze to you, his voice expecting. “Well?”

“…I was only given the circlet and the tightening spell. I wasn’t told how to take it off.” You confess, the demon’s impatient expression giving way to anger.

“Neither of you know how to get this blasted thing off my head?!” He seethes, looking between the two of you as you each refuse to make eye contact. 

Guilt bubbles at the sight of his vexation, seeing how much it hurt him and knowing none of you can free him of it. “I was never told how.”

“Gah!” He starts to pull at the circlet that refuses to budge, pivoting away to carry the sounds of his frustration into the sky. 

You turn to Tripitaka, nodding in gesture to the chained disciple. His shoulders slump slightly, unable to hide how tired he felt. It’s clear how exhausted he is, how put up he is with the day, but he has to  know as well as you he can’t just send him away with the false crown you tricked him into wearing.

The monk nods in reluctant agreement, letting out a sigh before addressing the sage. “I suppose it would be unfair to make you leave without cutting all ties properly… I’ll give you one more chance.” Wukong looks back at the monk as he speaks, his eyes narrowing in resentment. “But I mean it when I say this is the last time!” Sun Wukong lets out a huff of air at his words. Saying nothing, he gets up to stalk ahead, the others following with unease behind. 

As you continue, you can’t help but ponder on the women murdered by your travelling companion. Wukong had called them the same person. Not just that, a monster. But how does he know? When Tripitaka asked how they were the same person, it seemed as though the monkey himself could not answer the question.

But how is it that you’ve encountered two people on the road when you saw none overhead? The entire situation feels off to you, it doesn’t add up. Not to mention that as impulsive as the Monkey King is, there’s always a sort of rhyme or reason for his actions. To attack without reason is too out of character for the dem0n.

Too caught up in your own head, you’re brought back to reality at the sound of Pigsy’s snort. “Another traveller up ahead?” A chill runs down your spine and your head snaps up to see a short man  on the road opposite of your group. Another one? “Tell us, Monkey, are you going to insist this elderly fellow is a demon as well?”

Wukong perks up at the sight of the old man in the distance. “Yes! The same one!” You frown at that, unease growing in your stomach. How could it be the same person if he’s already killed them twice? Even then, something isn’t right. Whoever this traveller is, you don’t trust their sudden appearance.

“Wukong…” Tripitaka looks to his disciple, warning in his tone.

“Fine, look, it’s away.” The monkey obliges, rolling his eyes as his staff shrinks before tucking it away in his ear.

Something still doesn’t sit right with you. “I can go ahead to see whether or not this stranger is what they seem.” You offer, Tripitaka looking to you in surprise when you do.

“I’m sure that will be unnecessary.” He replies, but you shake your head.

“Call it a precaution. We shouldn’t take what Sun Wukong is saying lightly.” You step forward glancing over to the demon in question for only a moment.

 You feel that this stranger should be investigated, just to be sure of any ill-intent, but The monkey frowns, standing a bit taller than before. “Let me go along too, then.”

“No.” You snap back, making him frown as you continue. “You can stay out of the way.” With how the day has been, you don’t want to risk giving the monk any more reason to be upset with his oldest disciple. Playing mediator between your friend and someone as hard to get along with as Sun Wukong has been tiring, and you’d rather not have to continue with the effort.

Tripitaka looks down, exhausted. “Very well, if it will put you at ease.”

With a final nod, you transform to fly ahead. It is a very short flight, but you take the moment to soar up ahead and gain another view of the mountain. Finding that there seems to be no other buildings or encampment nearby, you fly back down and waste no time in shifting back to your human state, startling the old man as you do. “Hello, there.” Your greeting is friendly enough. Though, in all honesty, you rather this be a quicker interaction. With how the day has gone, you want to get to the bottom of this as swiftly as you can.

“Oh! You startled me, young lady.” The elderly man gasps, laughing a bit as he regains his bearings. He seems harmless enough, even quite frail. He seems to be nothing but skin and bones, with hardly any muscle. It makes you wonder why he might be out here in the wilderness of the mountain on his own.

He also does not seem to be as fazed by your sudden transformation as much as any normal mortal would be. “I apologise for the scare. I am only scouting ahead of my companion, we’ve been on the road for several months now.”

“Really?” He smiles, seemingly enthused. “I can only imagine how exhausted you all must be. I myself can barely move too far from my home. Unfortunately, my wife and daughter have been gone for some time. I was growing worried they may become food for some wild beast on the path.” His concerns fall on deaf ears as you put on a look of disquiet.

He is obviously alluding to the two women Wukong killed, but he clearly isn’t telling the truth. “Oh? Do you happen to live in these mountains, then?”

He confirms your suspicions and Wukong’s claims with a nod. “Yes, our home resides not far from here.”

“How lovely.” You offer him a polite smile, careful to watch his every move as an idea begins to shape in your mind. “Say, I don’t suppose you could allow my companions and I to rest in your home for the night?”

“I beg your pardon?” The offer seems to crack a chip in the stranger’s mask, and you hold in your smirk.

 With how far the others are, attacking who they think is an elderly man ‘unprompted’ will make you look as insane as the Monkey King. However, they’re close enough to be watching, even if they cannot hear what is being said. So if whoever this demon is tries to attack you, it would immediately incriminate itself in their eyes.“We’re used to moving across rougher terrain than what we have seen on this mountain, so we can help look for your daughter and wife. That way, you won’t need to push yourself by searching on your own.”

The demon laughs, almost nervously, and shakes his head. “Oh, that will not be necessary. I can search for my family on my own without inconveniencing you.” He replies, and you rest a hand on your hip, just over the sheathe where you keep your dagger-axe.

“Nonsense, I’ll go to enlist my companions to help you. If you could show my friend to your home, his disciples will gladly help you” You insist, turning as if to leave while watching the man from the corner of your eye, grip tightening on the hilt of your dagger. A smirk sprouts once the bait is taken.

As expected, the demon can’t resist the seemingly easy pickings. You hear a grunt and pivot to block an incoming attack, unsheathing your weapon but the assault never comes. Instead, wind howls past your ears followed by a heavy thud. Bones knock against one another as they fall to the ground, the only remaining trace of the man that was once standing on the path with Sun Wukong standing over them.

Your eyes go wide with panic as you see the sight before you. “What are you doing?! Do you want Tripitaka to skin you alive?!” You shout at the monkey, his face contorting in irritated confusion, looking at you as though you had grown a second head.

“What am I doing?! That demon was lunging for you! What, do you expect me to just stand back and let it grab you?” He frowns as you groan in frustration. It all happened too fast! Did the monk even have a chance to see the attack?

“I know what the demon was planning, I am no idiot!” You hold up your dagger to the impulsive sage, using it to point towards the pile of bones that now litter the ground before gesturing to yourself and sheathing the weapon.

The others, who ran the minute Wukong left their side, quickly arrive. The look on Tripitaka’s face is enough to answer whether or not they saw the demon try to attack. “Sun Wukong, have I not warned you enough?!”

“He was about to attack her!” The monkey defends himself. “I was only doing my duty to protect you mortals. Just look at the remains!”

“It’s true.” You step between master and disciple, gesturing down to the bones littering the path. “Look, there is no flesh on these bones. No human could decompose so instantaneously, Sun Wukong was right about the demon.”

Tripitaka’s brows furrow, the words sinking in as he looks upon the evidence himself. Unfortunately, before he’s given the chance to digest our words, Bajie interjects once more. “How do we know this isn’t some trick? Wukong could be deceiving all of us with another illusion.”

“Another?!” You whip your head to the pig demon, marching up to him and pushing your finger into his chest. “How imbecilic can you be? What, are you upset you couldn’t have the demon when it was a beautiful woman? Did you not learn your lesson with that house of women last month?”

Pigsy’s face goes red at the recollection, and he glares down at you. “We agreed not to bring that up–”

“Stop! I’m done” Tripitaka shouts, and you step away from the hog. The monk rubs his temples before looking to his eldest disciple. “I’ve given you far too many warnings, Sun Wukong.”

“But Master–” The sage goes to defend himself, but he’s not given the chance to.

“I cannot travel with one as impulsive as you.” He cuts the demon off, Wukong flinching as he does. “We’re in the wilderness now, but what will happen if you kill a human you assume to be a demon in a crowded city? How would you justify your murderous actions then? Would the civilians that watch you kill their own believe your words?”

Wukong frowns as his master speaks, irritation giving way to spite as he steps into the monk’s space. “How ungrateful! How many times have I saved your life? From robbers, demons– I brought you the oaf that’s been mumbling into your ear all day!” He throws an arm out in gesture to the pig demon. “After all I have done to serve you–”

“I don’t need you to serve me anymore!”

Everyone goes silent, holding their breath. The two stare each other down, Tripitaka frowning while Wukong looks at him in disbelief. After what feels like an eternity, the sage laughs. “Are you serious?”

“Leave, Monkey.” Tripitaka dismisses him, finally looking away as he turns his back on the demon.

Wukong lets out an exasperated breath. “Ha, why? So you can call me back with this thing on my head the second you run into trouble?” He laughs.

Tripitaka looks back over his shoulder with a scoff. “Never will I call on you ever again, I would never rely on the wicked for my troubles.”

“Oh, yeah? I’d like to see that in writing.” Wukong crosses his arms with a toothy grin.

Tripitaka refuses to back down from the challenge. “It would be my pleasure.”

He marches over to one of the bags carried by Ao Lie, digging for paper while you and Sandy share a panicked look. “Enough, both of you. This is ridiculous.” You look between the two, Wukong walking past you to watch the monk as he writes with passion that’s rare to ever see from him.

“Stay out of this, Dove. Tripitaka can speak for himself.” He snaps before stepping back once Tripitaka shoves his messily-drafted banishment into his chest.

He huffs, like the monk is out of breath. “Now it can be official.” Wukong looks down at the paper now in his hands, his eyes glancing over it before snapping back up to Tripitaka. There’s something in his eyes, something you can’t recognise, and it’s gone before you can identify it.

The Monkey King stands tall, grinning with an almost-sarcastic smile while his eyes remain indifferent. “Good to know.” And just like that, the Great Sage leaps into the air, taking off on his somersault cloud.

You look to Tripitaka with an incredulous look. “Where is your mind?!”

The man’s face scrunches into a defensive look. “You saw what he did–”

“Yes, I did!” You step forward. “But I can’t believe you would doubt him like that.”

“You’ve told me yourself how abrasive he is, how little he cares for others.” He counters, and you almost step back at the reply. “How long could we have gone before more of his actions got us into more trouble? How many times did he put us in danger because of his cockiness?”

“And how many times has he saved us?” You counter, finding the entire situation ridiculous. How bad has it become that you have to be the one defending Sun Wukong?

The monk goes to speak but you continue. “He was chosen as your disciple, Tripitaka. Banishing him won’t lead to anything good.”

“Besides assuring the safety of any other humans we come across.” Pigsy coughs into his sleeve, grabbing your attention as you glare daggers into him from the corner of your eye.

“You don’t have any room to speak, not when you want to sleep with every other woman we come across.” You point accusingly at the pig. “You’re the one who instigated this entire debacle!”

Pigsy frowns at that. “Me?! I’m not the one who killed an entire family within an afternoon.”

Before you can verbally assault the demon, Sandy steps in between the two of you. “Fighting over something that has already happened won’t solve anything.” He looks to the both of you pointedly, and it takes you a moment to breathe before stepping away with a scoff.

You can’t let everything fall apart like this. “I’ll be back.”

With no further elaboration, you take off into the sky, transformed and flying as fast as your wings can take you. Tripitaka calls after you, but his voice falls on deaf ears. You can’t let Sun Wukong leave without at least trying to stop him. Yes, things have gotten heated, but you can still try to get him to come back.

You go in the direction you saw him fly off in, but without knowing how fast he was going, he might already be long gone. He can jump from one horizon to the next in moments if he really wanted to, how quickly did he leave? How did everything dissolve so quickly?

You can’t help but feel the knot in your stomach twist. Yes, you may dislike the ape but he serves a purpose like all of you do on this pilgrimage. Petty feelings aside, there’s no denying his importance. Not to mention that he was starting to become more bearable to be around, aside from his occasional prying that became more frequent only as of late.

Gravity takes an unexpected hold on you as you’re tackled out of the sky, successfully pulling your mind back into the moment as you feel yourself hurdling to the ground. Transforming back mid-air, your assailant keeps hold of you and you both go soaring into a tree, tumbling through the leaves and branches before landing on the ground with a thud. It takes you a moment to regain your breath as you land on your back, the Monkey King hovering over you with a cold glare you’ve never seen on him before.

“What do you want?” His voice is seething with resentment, an anger that feels foreign coming from the sage. You’ve seen him upset, angry, but never this furious.

Determined not to let his ire deter you, you snap back. “What do you think? Get off me!” You push back, and he obliges, albeit in silence. He watches as you get back to your feet, surveying wearily like you might lash out at the drop of a hat. Despite the hostility, you tell yourself not to give into it yourself and take in a deep breath. You’re not here to fight, you have to convince him to come back.

After giving yourself a moment to breathe, you face the Great Sage. He has his arms crossed as you take a step towards him. “Listen, Wukong, I just think Tripitaka needs some time to collect his thoughts.” You reach out to rest a hand on his arm in an attempt to soothe him, and he quickly swats it away.

He looks almost offended. “Don’t try your tricks on me.”

“Excuse me for trying to help you!” You frown, dropping your hands to your side and stepping back. His brows shoot up at that, the demon leaning forward slightly before letting out a dry laugh.

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he does. “I’m sorry, maybe I wasn’t clear enough before, but I don’t need your help.” He moves even closer, forcing you to take a step back. “I’m the Monkey King, I don’t need some pompous human who thinks she’s above me to offer her sympathies.”

Your glare sharpens at that. “Above you? You’re one to talk, do you even hear yourself?”

“Not over your yelling, I can’t.” He growls, and before you go for a retort, you take another step back. Getting angry as well won’t make anything better, you have to remind yourself of that.

Closing your eyes, you take another breath before looking back to face the demon. “Look, this is a pointless argument. Just… please, come back with me. Maybe you and Tripitaka can try settling this like the adults you are, without yelling.”

“Why?” He challenges, moving into your space to look down on you. “Why should you care? As far as I am concerned, everyone is getting what they want out of this arrangement.”

He holds out the monk’s paper. “I can go back home for the first time in centuries, Tripitaka won’t have a ‘murderous disciple' on his conscience, and you get to be right.” You go to speak but freeze at that last bit, your confusion only lasting a brief second before you recall that night by the river. Your words then, you wanted them to irk him, to cause doubt in the demon that ruined everything in the palace.

Seeing him now, the hurt in his eyes as he laughs, creates this distressing blanket of dread over your person as you’re proven right. “You knew I wouldn’t last long on this pilgrimage.” His voice is quiet, his lips pull up to a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I hope you enjoyed it.”

He watches you as you go to speak, but nothing comes out. You don’t know what to say, his expression leaving you in a shocked silence. Wukong waits, expecting a rebuttal that you cannot form. For just a moment, his face drops, almost in disappointment before he looks away. With a shake of his head, he turns and jumps into the sky even faster than before. Just like that, he’s gone.

Even with him no longer in front of you, the image of his face burns into your memory. You’ve seen many expressions from the sage, prideful and cocky, but never has he looked quite like that before. With his invincibility, his multiple immortalities, you thought he was incapable of looking that way.

You’ve never seen him look hurt.

[sweetie-peaches]

Apologies for being southern on main guys but

Qtubbo gives the energy of a sheep farmer to me, he’d have his flock that he loves very dearly and takes very good care of. And every year as soon as she’s old enough to he’d make Sunny do shows with a lamb she helped raise, and she’d always have the perfect lead that’s bedazzled and the perfect outfit

And at Sunny’s request he’d buy land for an orchard for her as well

Pac would be a chicken farmer, I don’t have explanations to that, he’d have a bunch of free range chickens that he looks after, he treats them like their his children. And will let them into his house.

Bagi and fit would be cow farmers, not together, they just both give the energy they’d have a herd of cattle

Fit would judge live stock shows as well, he gives the energy of a show judge

And bagi would also raise rabbits and pigs

Fit would raise pigs as well, because I imagine that man can deadlift a 200 lb pig

[codename-adler]

Fake fic title: "Beauty's Prince"

Once upon a time, Jean Moreau, a mere servant of the Moriyama kingdom and its princes, Riko and Kevin, was too beautiful for his own good.

Riko had sent Jean to clean the castle's dirtiest quarters, the pig pen, the stable. He'd sent him to work in the infirmaries, with the wounded soldiers and the lepers. He'd sent him to tend to the hundred acres of gardens and orchards. Jean did not mind the work, and did it well. And yet. The scorching sun, the dirt, the dust, the sweat, the blood, nothing could tarnish the beauty that lay underneath.

Prince Riko could not stomach it any longer. Jean Moreau attracted attention that was rightfully Riko's. He'd even caught Prince Kevin's eye, and that would not do. They were princes. Jean was nothing. He was property Riko owned, and Jean would do best to remember it. So Riko took to more drastic measures.

For a fortnight, Prince Riko kept Jean locked in the dungeons, and day after day, night after night, he broke bones, cut skin, beat the body black and blue. Prince Riko tarnished him until what his eyes saw satisfied him, until he no longer saw grace and fairness upon Jean Moreau.

There was a guard down there, one the prisoners tolerated more than the others, because of his good nature. Each watch, Jeremy Knox had to endure Prince Riko's torture of this poor fellow he knew not from face nor name. Until one day, it all stopped, and the jailed bird was left to die, long forgotten by Prince Riko, his sinful cravings purged. But no physician was sent. No nurse, no apothecary.

No matter what a man has done, Jeremy Knox believed they deserved pity and redemption. And so no matter the crimes this man had committed, Jeremy could not watch him die like this.

But he was not prepared for the horror that lay in this fateful cell. Broken and unrecognizable, Jean could not even speak for himself, out of it most of the time. Still, Jeremy persevered and tended to the wounded, until his superiors warned him Prince Riko had completely forbidden it, Jeremy's action having reached his ears.

Only one path remained for Jeremy Knox. Under a crescent moon, he stole away the wrecked captive and fled to the woods beyond the castle, hellbent on saving this man he did not know. Knocked out for his own good, Jean forgot most of the horse ride and woke up to a quaint little cabin hidden in the forest, with a strange man tending to his open wounds and fractured bones.

Things seemed to slow and calm down, until hunters come, targeting Jean and anything standing in their way. One lets them go, a small man with fire for hair, but others will follow. Jean and Jeremy must flee again, this time also to look for answers, as not everything is as it seems. The Old Gods are not as dead as the King preaches, and life is far from being over for one Jean Moreau. There are legacies to reclaim, revenge to seek, and love to accept.

Snow White meets Cinderella meets Greek Mythology meets Fantasy? Jean Moreau, son of Aphrodite? Jeremy Knox, knight in shining armor with a heart of gold? Evil Prince Riko? Usurper King Tetsuji? Rightful Heir Kevin? Hunter Neil Josten? Jerejean!!

[miapcain]

what do they eat at the castle?

Thank you for the ask! Vesna and Snježa eat better than most of the other servants, so they occasionally have white bread (especially Brezen for lent) and other treats. The most common food is pottage, and most days there's brown or oat bread at the castle. Swarzctannperg has a kitchen with several dedicated servants, a brewery, a butcher, and a buttery. It's a pretty remote castle and most of the lords land is Forst, used for lumber, so there's slightly more game in the diet than might be usual. Meat is eaten much more rarely than today, the bulk of (non fish) meat consumption is domestic fowl and pigs, though there are 112 fast days in the year where no one eats animal products other than fish.

The castle's remoteness means they have less access to sugar, muskat, cinnamon etc than might be usual, but food is still seasoned with salt, wine, vinegar, herbs and honey. When meat is served it might often be sweetened in ways we wouldn't like.

The castle is surrounded by orchards and small goat pastures. There's plenty of apples and pears year round, and apricots in summer. The castle buttery makes butter and cheeses from mostly cow and goat milk.

Wine, beer and cider (specifically Most) are produced locally, both by a nearby nunnery and on site. The region is colder at this point than it is now, but growing wine is perfectly possible; It's probably not great though, since properly aging it isn't commonplace here yet. The lord and his family drink that almost daily, the other drinks already being seen as somewhat lower class. There's a spring that provides fresh water near the castle, but a lot of people, including children, drink Dünnbier as their main source of hydration, a very thin watered down beer.

The lord's peasants eat less well. Famine isn't a huge problem, but the hills aren't great arable land and a lot isn't properly cleared for pasture either. Peasants (most here are Leibegene, comp. Serfs, and forced to labour a certain amount in their lord's fields or forests - if they own land themselves, they are also obligated to pay part of their produce) aren't allowed to mill their own corn either, so they rely on much worse bread depending on what they can afford; many might have to mix their flour with ground bark and acorns, especially in winter. Vesna is only tangentially aware of this, however.

[lulu2992]

A few of Far Cry 5’s characters’ former names (according to the files)

Did you know that some characters used to have different names? Here’s what I found:

Adelaide Drubman - Penny Johnson (I’m not sure; it’s unclear)

Casey Fixman - Casey Seagal or Casey Storm

Chad Wolanski - Chad Gardetto

Faith Seed - Selena Seed

George Wilson - George Beel

Guy Marvel - Guy Martel (headcanon: it’s still his name but he thought Marvel was a cooler name for a movie director)

Hurk Drubman Senior - Wayne Senior

Joseph Seed - Daniel Seed

Merle Briggs - Merle Clinton

Wilhelmina Mable - Wilhelmina Maybelline

Tammy Barnes - Tammy Palmer (was she supposed to be Eli’s wife? Maybe!)

Tracey Lader - Traci West

Virgil Minkler - Virgil Knutsen

Wendell Redler - Wendell Darrah

Xander Flynn - Bob Johnson (again, like for Adelaide, not sure)

Also, I’ve said this before but Deputy Pratt’s first name is actually Stacy and not Staci. In the files, it’s only not spelled Stacy once, in the end credits... which is also, unfortunately, the only time players had a chance to see it written.

According to the files, Larry Parker’s first name is Laurence, the man we meet near Arcade machines is Morris Aubrey, and the fisherman is Coyote Nelson… but his description in the unreleased in-game encyclopedia also implies he died, so that might be inaccurate.

Below are the names of other Hope County residents (and where they live(d) and/or work(ed)) found in the deleted in-game encyclopedia:

Daniel Holmes — Holmes Residence

Doug and Debbie Hadler — Gardenview Orchards, Ciderworks, and Packing Facility

Rae-Rae Bouthillier — Rae-Rae's Pumpkin Farm

Niesha Howard — Howard Cabin

Emmet Reaves (in the late 1800s) — Copperhead Rail Yard & Prosperity

Will Boyd (from Far Cry: Absolution; his full name is William) — Boyd Residence

Les Doverspike — Doverspike Compound

Mike and Deb Harris — Harris Residence

Wolfgang Dodd — Dodd’s Dumps

Colin Dodd (Nadine Abercrombie’s grandfather) — Dodd Residence

Joe Roberts — Roberts Cabin

Dr. Kim Patterson — Hope County Clinic

Bobby Budell (in 1946) — Flatiron Stockyards

Doug Fillmore — Fillmore Residence

Orville Fall (found gold in 1865) — Catamount Mines

Mike and Chandra Dunagan — Sunrise Farm

The Redler family (Wendell’s) — Red’s Farm Supply

Andrew and Frances Woodson — Woodson Pig Farm

Don Sawyer — Sawyer Residence

Kay Wheeler — Kay-Nine Kennels

Jules Adams (and an unnamed husband) — Adams Ranch

Jerry Miller (and his family) — Miller Residence

Rick Elliot (his full name is Richard according to a message left by Eli) — Elliot Residence

Jay Loresca — Loresca Residence

"Lonely Frank" — Frank’s Cabin

Dicky Dansky — Dansky Cabin

Roy Tanami — Tanami Residence

Mr. Vasquez — Vasquez Residence

Mr. McDevitt — Misty River Gas

Darby McCoy — McCoy Cabin

Dr. Phil Barlow — Barlow Residence

Travis McClean (and his husband Brent) — McClean Residence

Jasmine Chan — Chan Residence

Jerrod Wilson (in the 1800s) — Throne of Mercy Church

Frankie Sinclair — Sinclair Residence

Lydia (in 1912) — Lydia’s Cave

Dwight Feeney (the chemist who worked with Eden’s Gate and dies in the mission “Sins of the Father”) — Feeney Residence

Lorna Rawlings — Lorna’s Truck Stop

Edward O'Hara — O’Hara’s Haunted House

Kanti Jones — Jones Residence

Coyote Nelson — Nelson Residence

Holly Pepper (and her girlfriend Charlie) — Pepper Residence

Nolan Pettis — Nolan’s Fly Shop

Bob and Penny Johnson — Johnson Residence

Melvin Adams Abercrombie — Abercrombie Residence

Steve McCallough — McCallough’s Garage

Dr. Rachel Jessop (who, and I’ll keep saying this every time I can, was never Faith and always another, entirely different person) — Jessop Conservatory

Dwight Seeley — Seeley’s Cabin