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uceyliyahh · 19 days ago

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SOMETHING BOUT’ US

Summary: "I want you more than anything in my life." After being in a difficult relationship with Carmelo Yasmine decided to move on from him and become the next big thing while getting drafted on the smackdown roster she always thought she would never find love again due to her commitment issues until she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 5031

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Yasmine

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don��t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic

@celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld

15.

uceyjucey, biancabelairwwe, trinity_fatu, and others liked your post.

minnieminks: Raw On Netflix 💋😘

uceyjucey: damn mama you look so good 😫 minnieminks: @ uceyjucey thank you big daddy 🤭 biancabelairwwe: girrrrl your outfit is eating honey 😍😍 minnieminks: @ biancabelairwwe thank you bestie I loved your outfit too trinity_fatu: SHE TAKING IT HONEY! MontezFordWWE: could've wore something more appropriate minnieminks: @ MontezFordWWE 🙄🙄 carmelohayes: did I miss this? uceyjucey: @ carmelohayes yeah you always miss

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YASMINE Today marked the exciting premiere of Raw on Netflix, a moment I had eagerly anticipated. After years of being confined to cable, this shift represents a fresh start and a new era for streaming services. While I was in my apartment enjoying my favorite show on Netflix, I realized I didn't have a title match tonight. So, I made the decision to attend the premiere and stroll down the red carpet.

I'll be joining Trin and Jon for the premiere tonight to show my support for Jey. He had a match against Carmelo earlier, and I anticipated it would be quite the spectacle, especially given their real-life rivalry.

While engrossed in my show, I noticed my phone vibrating on the glass table. Curiosity piqued, I picked it up and saw a message from Jey. A smile spread across my face as I began to craft my response.

IMESSAGE💬 Joshua🤍: Hey mamas Yasmine🩵: Hi big daddy I miss you Joshua🤍: I miss you too baby girl you'll get to see me tonight whooping some ass Yasmine🩵: ikrrr I hope you whoop his ass good Joshua🤍: 😭 but for real though you gonna walk the red carpet with me to the premiere? Yasmine🩵: yes? Why wouldn't I? Ik these interviewers wanna see two champions together and ask questions 💁🏽‍♀️ Joshua🤍: you is funny mama so what? We matching tonight? Yasmine🩵: yeah I already have a outfit planned for tonight Joshua🤍: might pull up with my pink shiesty mask on along with some black sweats, not shirt, and a opened suit yfm Yasmine🩵: you and these shiesty mask boy 😭😭 you better come accordingly Joshua🤍: girl you know how I rock my style Yasmine🩵: yeah, yeah imma be riding with Trin and Jon Joshua🤍: aight then baby girl I'll see yo' fine ass there Yasmine🤍: you too 💗

After messaging Jey, I quickly scrolled through my social media to catch up on recent happenings. That's when I stumbled upon Carmelo's story, where he posted a picture with the girl he cheated on me with. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at their relationship.

Being the women's world champion was an incredible experience for me; it truly felt like my destiny to excel in this field. I eagerly await the arrival of a new challenger, as I understand that my reign as champion may not last forever.

Jey and I have been thriving in our relationship over the past few months since reuniting. While we occasionally have our differences, it's never a concern because we consistently find common ground and resolve our issues.

Since I defeated Liv for the title, she's been giving me the cold shoulder at work, and with Dom trailing after her like a lost puppy, it's become unbearable. I really hope I don't run into her tonight, or things could get messy.

✧˚° It was almost time for me to head to the premiere of Raw tonight on Netflix I was putting on some lip-gloss while rubbing them together making that "pop" effect sound before placing it down in my purse, I touched up my makeup one last time before hearing some loud ass music playing outside along with the horn honking.

I was certain it was Trin and Jon.

As I glanced out the window, I spotted their black Chevy waiting in the parking lot. I double-checked to ensure I had everything I needed, including my championship trophy, before making my way downstairs and towards the door.

As I approached their car, I noticed Trinity lowering her window and giving me a playful look that made me blush, while Jon rolled his eyes at us, clearly not a fan of our moment.

"Girrrrl you look so good for the premiere," Trinity said.

I tossed my hair back with a grin and said, "Thanks, darling! I have to look my best for every occasion," as I wrapped the title around my waist.

"The gold accents really elevate your outfit, making it stand out even more." I was surprised by how many compliments I was receiving tonight as Jonathan started driving us to our destination.

As we drove toward our destination, I gazed out the window, captivated by the sunset painting the sky. The soothing sounds of SZA's "Doves In The Wind" filled the car, and Trinity and I couldn't help but join in, singing along to the lyrics with joy.

"Real niggas don't not deserve pussy, meanin' it's more, you see right through walls," I sang while vibing out.

Then Trinity came through, "ain't talkin' about pussy, meanin' you deserve the whole box of chocolates," meanwhile Jonathan was just looking at me and her while shaking his head.

"Imma tell Jey y'all singing crazy over here in my car," Jonathan said.

Trin and I couldn't help but laugh at him as we enjoyed the moment, singing along to the lyrics. I genuinely cherish these times with his family, and I truly hope the rest of his loved ones will embrace me as well.

As Jonathan steered us closer to the arena for the premiere, I couldn't help but notice how massive it appeared compared to any venue we had visited before. When we finally arrived, the sight was electrifying—an enthusiastic crowd of fans erupted in cheers and screams, their excitement palpable as they welcomed us.

As Jonathan switched off the car, we all stepped out, making our way to the vibrant red carpet for the premiere. I took the time to sign posters and shirts for my fans, capturing memorable moments with them through photos.

"YASMINE! YASMINE! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" the fan shouted as I blew them a kiss.

As I searched the crowd for Jey, eager to walk alongside him, I finally spotted his smile. I made my way over, but he had his back to me, completely unaware of my presence. Gently, I tapped his shoulder, and when he turned around, his beautiful smile lit up his face as he took in my outfit from head to toe.

"Damn, girl you tryna make me act up right now?" Jey said as he gave me a hug.

I wrapped my arms around him, inhaling the familiar scent of my favorite cologne that he always wore, especially before his matches. As we slowly separated, he kept his hands resting on my waist, looking down at me with a gaze that felt both tender and intense.

Jey pressed a gentle kiss against my shiny lips, making me chuckle at the sight of his lips shimmering with my lip gloss. I couldn't help but adore this man even more. My eyes traveled from his head to his toes, taking in the outfit he had described to me.

He certainly looked impressive, though.

"C'mon boy, let's go and get our pictures taken," I said as he nodded his head interlocking his fingers into mine.

While capturing moments together and enjoying some slow-motion shots for the cameraman, we then strolled down the red carpet for the premiere, where we were soon approached by an interviewer.

"Yasmine and Jey hello! It's so good to see the next it couple come to the premiere of Raw being on Netflix I'm Kelly from wrestling podcast, how are yall doing?" Kelly said.

"Well, Kelly when you have two champions in front of you, you don't know how to feel honestly, but for real though we are doing good happy to be here for the premiere," I said.

"Jey, you have a match tonight against Carmelo Hayes, how does that make you feel?"

"Respectfully, I didn't come here to be all friendly with this dude you feel me? He's going to get the yeet down and put some respect on my name," Jey stated as I was admiring him speaking.

"I can see that your girlfriend here is going to be cheering you on for tonight is she your number one supporter in all of this?" She asked.

He nodded, his gaze fixed on me with admiration for my features. "Absolutely, she's my greatest supporter in everything, and I'm her number one fan in all that she does. Just look at her—she's your women's world champion." The way he spoke about me sent my heart racing.

After wrapping up the interview with Kelly, Jey and I made our way into the arena, where we were greeted by the sight of our fans eagerly purchasing our merchandise. As security guided us toward the backstage area, we couldn't wait to connect with our supporters.

I was feeling hungry, so I made my way to the catering area to grab a bite to eat. Meanwhile, Jey was heading to his locker room to prepare for his segment. As I was addressing my mistake, I noticed someone approaching me from the side.

"I don't know how he deals with a girl like you," Liv said as I turned my head around focusing my attention on her.

I shot her a questioning look. "He understands how to handle me because he's a man, Liv—something you wouldn't grasp, especially with Dom trailing behind you like a lost puppy," I replied as I made my way to the table.

"But A real man doesn't cheat," I turned my head around quick while getting in her face.

"Look here bitch, if you wanna keep playing these little games with me so be it how about you worry about yo' man cheating on you with Tiffany instead of trying to take mines," After I said that I sat down at the table beginning to eat my food.

I watched her standing there, utterly astonished, fully aware that she wouldn't gain the upper hand this time. I refuse to let that happen.

As I was about to take another bite of my meal, I suddenly felt her yanking my hair, and the sound of the glass plate crashing to the floor echoed around us. My mind raced with disbelief—how could she be pulling my hair, especially after I just had it done yesterday? All eyes were on us, and in a moment of instinct, I kicked her in the stomach to break free from her grip.

I pulled her hair, forcing her down to the ground as I climbed on top of her, delivering punch after punch to her face. I had no intention of playing games tonight; all I wanted was to look stunning for my man and enjoy watching him take charge. But she just wouldn't back off.

I forcefully struck her head against the floor repeatedly, with onlookers witnessing the entire scene unfold. "I told you not to play with me bitch," I spat while continuing to punch her head in.

I suddenly felt a powerful force yank me away from her. Just as I was ready to resist, I turned to see Jey, shirtless and clad in his black sweats, standing there. I also noticed Dom entering the scene to retrieve Liv.

"Let me go Josh! I wanna fuck her ass up!" I shouted trying to fight Jey off of me.

"Mama! Mama, she isn't worth it, look at me," Jey said as he turned me around to face him.

"She ain't worth it," I glanced at her when he mentioned it, noticing the blood trickling from her nose. A smirk of satisfaction crept across my face; this was exactly the sight I relished.

I smiled and nodded in agreement as he adjusted my hair, truly a gentleman. Jey led me to his locker, and as we walked by Liv and Dom, I couldn't help but give her the finger before focusing my attention back on Jey.

✧˚° OMNISCIENT Yasmine and Jey finally approached his locker room, engaged in a lively conversation about the events that had unfolded earlier. Just as they were about to step inside, they were interrupted by the sound of someone clapping their hands.

Carmelo was seen strolling backstage, his arms crossed confidently over his chest.

"Well look at what we have here, we have the cheater and the delusional one yall make a perfect couple," Carmelo said as I rolled my eyes at him.

"You still on that shit? Find something else to talk about sounding like Liv right now," Yasmine retorted while placing her hands in her hips.

Yasmine and Jey were both too pressed for time to handle Carmelo's nonsense tonight, especially considering what Yasmine had just done to Liv. "I mean ain't it funny how you accuse me of raping you and then put me on a restraining order and here's the kicker your dating someone who cheated on you!" He exclaimed.

Jey stepped in front of her just as she was about to speak, confronting Carmelo directly and giving him a slight shove.

"How about yo' ass do allat talking in the ring instead of messing with us huh? I hope yo' ass take a lot of misses tonight from that shit talking you be doing," Jey spat.

Carmelo scoffed at him, "whatever you say Unc," that's all he said before brushing past Jey while he looked over his shoulders.

Yasmine swiftly pulled Jey into his locker room, preventing him from doing anything reckless to Melo. She leaned against the dresser, her gaze fixed on Jey as he meticulously wrapped the white tape around his fingers.

As she bit down on her finger, a mix of excitement and desire coursed through her. Her gaze was fixed on her man as he prepared for his match against Melo, and her mind was flooded with tantalizing thoughts that only added to the thrill of the moment.

Jey's curiosity was piqued when she remained silent, drawing his gaze upward. He found her looking down at him, a playful smile dancing on her lips. "What's going on, baby?" he asked, his deep voice resonating like a powerful melody.

"Oh, nothing just admiring my man that's all," She said softly.

He wore a sly grin as he set the white tape down on the table beside him. Rising from the couch, he strode toward her, his towering 6'2" frame casting a shadow over Yasmine. She looked up at him, her wide, innocent eyes making her feel diminutive in his presence.

Jey embraced her waist, his free hand tenderly stroking her cheek. He pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before trailing his lips to her neck, prompting her to tilt her head to the side, inviting him to explore further.

He was now kissing her neck passionately, as if she were his Luna, claiming his space. Jey looked up at her, and she returned the gesture, smiling warmly as she marked him in her own way.

"You so fucking pretty mamas," Jey said

"Thank you big daddy, "Yasmine exclaimed as Jey lifted her by the thighs, setting her down on the dresser while positioning himself between her legs.

He gently cradled her chin, leaning in to kiss her softly on the lips. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and as their mouths moved together, Yasmine could sense the undeniable desire he felt for her, and her alone.

Jey quickly removed her one-piece outfit and panties, while he followed suit, feeling his excitement press against his stomach.

He stroked his dick a few times before sliding himself inside of Yasmine's warmth as him and her let out a groan throughout their make out session.

SMUT WARNING Jey was giving Yasmine his deep strokes while she was moaning his name in his ear softly keeping him close to her body, he had his hands gripping both of her ass cheeks digging in her shit.

He was whispering nasty shit in her ear while thrusting in and out of her wet cunt, "this pussy feels so good miss being in this shit," he whispered softly.

He had his hand wrapped around her throat and her legs over his shoulders going inside of her deeply while Yasmine was rolling her eyes in the back of her head.

Foreheads were pressed against each other as they kept their eyes on each other too, he loved the way he was fucking her right now seeing her crumbling underneath him.

Seeing her titties jiggling throughout his thrust he was giving her them long deep strokes that she likes before he went crazy on her.

"Ouuu fuck big daddy, you fuck me so good," Yasmine moaned.

"Yeah? Baby?" Yasmine nodded her head yes while throwing her head back in the process.

The dresser began to creak a bit every single time Jey's thrust would get harder the air began to thicken around them feeling nothing but heat coming through the room.

Yasmine licked her fingers while placing them on her soaking clit rubbing it back and forth as Jey was fucking her like no other could, "yeah, keep rubbing that pretty pussy mama, I love that shit," he grunted as he began to speed up his pace.

They both look down at the sight of his dick sliding in and out of her, Jey had his bottom lip tucked in while his dark lustful brown eyes were focusing on Yasmine.

She kept rubbing her silk folds curling up her toes in the process as she was nearing her orgasm soon, all you could hear were skins slapping against each other in the room.

The way he circled his hips hitting her g-spot so well was driving her insane as her lips parted into an "oh" effect saying his name so that people could know who she belong to.

She leaned in closer to him placing her lips on his while passionately making out with each other his tongue was swirling inside of her mouth exploring every part of her mouth there was.

Yasmine bit the bottom of his lip while pulling back before going back into the kiss which she knew that he loved that shit from her.

"Fuck, daddy, fuckk," Yasmine muttered.

"Mhmm," he responded back while pounding her gushy insides in. "This my pussy baby?"

Yasmine nodded her head yes earning a slap on the thigh, "Y-yes, Yes, yes!" She mewled out between the kiss.

Jey could feel that she was about to come all over him so he pounded into her more harder and harder making her see stars at this point.

Yasmine felt a knot coming down in her stomach as she continued to rub her folds back and forth in a fast-paced motion clenching her abdomen in the process.

Jey loved the way she was clenching around him they pulled away from each other breathing heavily, as Yasmine was about to lose her mind.

All she needed was for him to say those few little words coming from his lips and she'll make a mess on him her eyes were begging for him to say something to her knowing how badly she hated when he teased her.

She was almost pouting at this point causing him to have a grin on his face going near her ear. "Gon' ahead princess make a mess on daddy, after that imma fill you up so good Ma," Jey whispered.

He continued on, "cum for daddy, coat your milky cream on my dick mama, I want it all," and that was all she needed to hear letting out a loud moan escaping her lips clenching her legs in the process.

Her body began to shake, eyes rolling in the back of her skull at this point, as her milky cream coated up his dick so well feeling defeated.

Jey pummeled her now sensitive insides determine to get his nut after hers as she was tapping his shoulders to slow down.

"D-daddy! Please...fuckkk," Yasmine cried out.

Jey shook his head, "Un-un, take this fucking dick like a good girl for me baby girl," his soft whispers were like music to her ears obeying him like a good girl she is for him.

The head of his dick was gliding through her cervix so easily Yasmine couldn't even use her brain to think or even comprehend anything the dick was making her feel loopy.

She noticed that his movements were getting sloppier and sloppier each thrust that he was giving her, digging her nails into his back causing him to hiss.

Jey buried his face in her neck cursing underneath his breath while feeling his dick twitch inside of her, he wanted to fill her up so good. "C'mon, big daddy. Nut in yo' pussy, this is all yours," it caught Jey off guard hearing her speak like that to him it was sexy.

"You think you deserve daddy's nut baby? To fill up those inner walls of yours?" He responded back.

His strokes became rougher and harder as the dresser began hitting up against the wall feeling his dick twitch again inside of her warmth, "Yes! Ouuu! Shit! I want it big daddy!" Probably the whole entire hallway could hear what was going on behind the door.

Rolling his eyes in the back of head along with feeling a drop of sweat coming down his face, "fuckkk," Jey slammed into her one last time feeling his warm seeds shooting ropes and after ropes inside of her inner walls both of them letting out a satisfying groan.

Jey thrust into her slowly making sure that his seeds didn't spill out of her.

SMUT OVER Jey and Yasmine were panting as he withdrew, taking in the sight of her back pressed against the wall, her hair and makeup in disarray. The sight made him chuckle softly.

He slipped back into his sleek black sweats and paired them with his vibrant blue PSD boxers, all while assisting Yasmine with her outfit. Her legs felt like jelly, but fortunately, she had her makeup bag and brush on hand to touch up her hair and makeup.

Jey stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and planting soft kisses along her back. With a playful grin, he playfully smacked her left cheek, adding a touch of mischief to the moment.

"Joshua," Yasmine said sternly glaring at him through the mirror.

"What? Don't look at me like that," he said.

"Stop being a horny rabbit boy," Jey rolled his eyes at her while putting on some deodorant just to refreshing himself.

As she completed her makeup, the anticipation grew; it was nearly time for her to make her way to the front of the ring to catch Jey's match against Carmelo. Just as she was about to leave, her phone buzzed in her hand. Glancing at the screen, she noticed a message from Trinity waiting for her.

IMESSAGE 💬 Trin🤭🫶🏽: girl where yo' ass at? Minnie🧃: I'm on my way now I got caught up Trin🤭🫶🏽: by caught up you mean you got some dick from yo' man before his match Minnie🧃: somethingggg like that 🤭🤭 Trin🤭🫶🏽: yall two are so nasty like honestly Minnie🧃: don't act like you wouldn't do it with Jon if he had a match tonight Trin🤭🫶🏽: actually he does so I might get some later but cmon!🙄 Minnie🧃: aight aight lemme say bye and I'll be otw Trin🤭🫶🏽: hurry up

Yasmine was taken aback by how this girl was hurrying her along. She couldn't help but laugh at the message as she watched Jey putting the final touches on his outfit for the match. He sported his eye-catching yeet crop-top, paired with his trendy yeet glasses, a shiny silver Cuban chain, and grills that sparkled in his smile.

Looking all types of good.

She approached him, her arms encircling his neck as she gazed through his glasses, absorbing every detail of his face. He looked down at her petite frame, gently pressing his lips against hers and then placing a tender kiss on her temple.

Yasmine, aware that she needed to leave before Trinity became frantic, reluctantly broke away from him, a smile playing on her lips after yet another passionate moment together.

"Okay, big boy. I gotta go before Trin starts tripping I'll see you out there love," Yasmine said.

They gave each other one last kiss while doing their handshake together.

"A'ight then mama I love you,"

"I love you too," Yasmine walked out his locker room heading towards the ring side.

She finally sat down in her seat in the front row seeing Trinity looking down at her, "girl what?"

"Took you long enough I thought y'all two were fucking again," Trinity said as I nudge her in the arm.

"Girl, please that man has a high sex drive just like your husband so what can I do?" Yasmine did have a point there about the Twins.

Trinity shrugged her shoulders, "I guess you're right, I heard what happened between you and Liv earlier today," she said.

Yasmine rolled her eyes in the process, "I wish Josh didn't hold me back I wanted to snatch her ass bald keep playing with me," Trinity had chuckle at her friend telling her she wished she could've seen it.

✧˚° Jey delivered an impressive performance in his match against Carmelo, showcasing his dominance throughout. It was clear he was on the path to victory as he had Melo cornered, executing his signature move, "The Uso Splash." With Carmelo pinned down and the referee counting, the excitement in the arena was palpable as Jey secured his win.

1! 2! 3!

DING! DING! DING! Jey celebrated his victory over Carmelo, with his music pumping in the background. Yasmine and Trinity were in full support, cheering him on. Yasmine couldn't help but feel thrilled that her man had once again handed Melo a decisive defeat.

He stepped out of the ring, making his way toward them. He planted a kiss on Yasmine's lips and wrapped his arms around Trinity in a warm embrace. The energy in the arena was electric as they danced and celebrated, the cameraman capturing every moment as the music pulsed around them.

Yasmine had intended to stay for the remaining matches, but Jey was adamant that he wanted her to come home with him. She informed Trinity of her early departure, and Trinity was perfectly fine with it. Yasmine happily followed Jey, almost like a little girl eager to be by his side.

Jey decided to take them back to Yasmine's house, as she was feeling quite exhausted after a fun day. She had relished the experience of being on camera, proudly showcasing the title she had won from Liv.

As Jey drove, the smooth sounds of R&B filled the car, creating a soothing atmosphere. Meanwhile, Yasmine was peacefully asleep in the passenger seat, completely at ease. Jey kept one hand on the steering wheel while the other rested comfortably on his thigh, enjoying the moment.

He couldn't help but steal a few glances at her drowsy form, a smile creeping onto his face as he pondered how fortunate he was to have her back in his life. With that thought in mind, Jey took a right turn, steering his way toward Yasmine's apartment complex.

As he approached her apartment complex, he parked the car in the lot, turning off the engine. He unlocked his door and moved to her side, unbuckling her seatbelt, momentarily forgetting about the bags in the back.

He gently lifted her and brought her inside, transforming the couch into a cozy bed for her. After settling her down comfortably, he stepped back outside to retrieve their bags. Once he returned, he set the bags down softly beside the couch, removed his shoes, and quietly closed the door, careful not to disturb Yasmine's peaceful slumber.

Jey entered the closet to fetch a blanket, preparing for a cozy night downstairs. When he returned, he noticed Yasmine had shifted in her sleep, a charming sight that made him smile. Gently, he draped the blanket over her, then removed his shirt and sweatpants, joining her under the warm fabric. He pulled her closer, cherishing the warmth and intimacy of the moment.

He noticed her discomfort with the outfit she was wearing, so he skillfully removed it without disturbing her, leaving her in just her underwear.

Jey wrapped his arms around her, drawing her nearer to his heart, allowing her to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat. He gently pressed a tender kiss on her forehead, then closed his eyes, surrendering to the comfort of sleep.

SOMETHING BOUT' US

uceyjucey, jadecargill, samizayn, and others liked your post.

minnieminks: Big Mama 🤭😩 uceyjucey: fuck you is a dime mama 😩😩 minnieminks: @ uceyjucey 😘🙂‍↕️ all for you big daddy MontezFordWWE: aye man enough with allat big daddy shi Yasmine 🙄 minnieminks: @ MontezFordWWE nigga can I live without you bitchin' biancabelairwwe: @ MontezFordWWE she is grown as hell Montez leave that girl alone 😭😭 carmelohayes: Big Daddy?? minnieminks: @ carmelohayes you heard me and you're violating the restraining order trinity_fatu: she love her some Jey jonathanfatu: aight ion need to see allat. jadecargill: ouuuu that outfit is eatingggg minnieminks: @ jadecargill omggg thank you so much 💗🫶🏽

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minnieminks, romanreigns, zillafatu, and others liked your post.

uceyjucey: YEET 🤍 minnieminks: you look so good big daddy 😍 uceyjucey: @ minnieminks thank you mama with yo' fine ass 😘 romanreigns: yall need to get married atp uceyjucey: @ romanreigns chill zillafatu: damn Uce when did you bag her? uceyjucey: @ zillafatu for a minute now trinity_fatu: periodddd BROTHER jonathanfatu: what is up with this big daddy shi? 😭😭 yall is some freaks MontezFordWWE: my innocent ears😭😭🥲 uceyjucey: @ MontezFordWWE you'll be aight uce 😭 americannightmarecody: YEET 🤍 yaonlylivonce: why is she calling you that? minnieminks: @ yaonlylivonce don't worry about it honey 😘💋

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A/n: hellooo i am back and well sorry I haven't been updating lately just been more focused on Novacane and also I was really sick so I couldn't even comprehend on writing a chapter lol but I'm better now also I am pissed that they banned mf TikTok bro like damn we can't have shi fr. 💁🏽‍♀️

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY

#jey uso #black oc #black writers #jey x oc black #black fanfic writer #jey uso fanfiction #wwelove #black reader #jey uso smut #wwe fanfiction

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missingmunson · 2 years ago

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Bluey, I’ve told you many times how much td&tc means to me. I’ll say it a thousand more times, starting now - this story has rooted itself deep into my heart. I’m rooting for Eddie and TD with my entire being. I love thinking about them building a beautiful life together with love entrenched in everything they do.

Chapter two just made me feel so lovey dovey (see what I did there? 😉).

…Eddie's face brightens so eagerly when he sees you, his features all lit with handsome delight like he's seen the thing he desires most in this world...

😭 It’s the first full day of TD being his girl, and he’s already so eager to see her. He’s all heart-eyes and smiles. He’s the human version of this emoji 😍. Gosh, I want to just kiss him all over his face.

The embroidery scene was so soft and sweet. Bluey, it was perfect. For me, those little moments of complete comfort and ease are the ones that make me yearn most ardently. They can’t help but steal gentle caresses, and it’s just so loving. You can tell Eddie and TD find solace in each other’s presence. It makes me imagine them years from now in a time when they can love each other openly. Maybe they’re married and sitting on their own little porch watching their babes catch fireflies in the fields. Blueeeey. You’ve got me so caught up in this AU. I can’t stop thinking of all the cute scenarios they can get into. 🩵🩵🩵 I also can’t help but smile thinking of her embroidering ‘Munson’. She’s practicing for a lifetime of crafting with that name. 😏

Look at our Eddie trying to win over her parents. He’s trying so hard to prove he’s worthy of courting TD. He’s working against so many preconceived notions, and he’s willing to face that battle head on. Farmer Eddie is total marriage material, and I’m head over heels for him.

Last chapter I was ready to fight mama because she seemed so judgmental. But you know what? This chapter has softened my harsh first impression of her. This scene with the buttons was so cute: “You can feel Eddie's heavy footsteps stop right beside you, but you only have eyes for Mama— your Mama, whose face has crumpled in a rare show of sentimentality.” After meeting Papa (��) this chapter, I feel like I understand Mama a bit more. I think she does care for and love her daughter, but she can’t express her emotions so openly. And she’s bound by the expectations her husband sets. I don’t think she’s blameless, but my irritation towards her has mellowed.

I feel like I could write an entire love letter to you about the wildflower scene. It was captivating and awe-inspiring.

“As the wind picks up, the sea of wildflowers ripples like a living, breathing organism, swaying as one, beckoning you and Eddie with its dance. And you accept its offer; you cast a smile overflowing with joy toward Eddie, and without any further fuss, you plunge into that living sea.”

BLUEY YOU ARE A SCENE SETTING AND DETAILS MASTERMIND!!! I want to kiss that brain of yours. I could picture the scene so clearly. I felt like I was standing in that field amongst the flowers. Unlike you, I’m struggling with words here…but damn you made me feel struck by the beauty of this fictional place.

The ribbon… that moment felt tender and meaningful. He wasn’t just gifting her that ribbon; he was giving her something to remind her of him. 😩😩😩

“When you break from his lips, what happens next becomes an inevitability.” I think in my comment for chapter one, I described their rendezvous as an inevitability. Their love feels written in the stars (cheesy af I know, but Bluey they are FATED!!!).

Okay, but the thumb sucking scene…….. whew. That was so hot that I think I got a third degree burn just from reading it. 🥵 I’m going to be thinking about this scene for a long time.

“And when you finally rise together, looking down at the place you'd chosen to express your devotion, the imprint in the crushed flowers forms the shape of a single body— as if you and Eddie have become one person, forever connected, eternally entwined.”

I have no words. It’s achingly beautiful. Your writing is stellar throughout this chapter, but this paragraph is especially profound.

The goat scene broke my heart. 😭 I’m so scared of Papa already. If he’s willing to kill a defenseless creature just for making noise, I can’t imagine what he’ll do when he finds out about Eddie and his daughter’s secret trysts. I want to put her in a protective bubble. I know the angst is near.

The goat scene also shows the stark differences between Eddie and her father. Papa is a man who rules through fear and solves his issues with violence. On the other hand, Eddie is patient and kind. He has compassion for the goat’s suffering and TD’s distress. He takes time to ease their pain. He’s a good lad. 🥰

Bluey, it has been such a privilege to watch you grow in your writing. Your writing has always been really strong, but I can clearly see how much dedication you are putting into perfecting your craft. I’m so proud of you. This story is the perfect example of that. You’ve created something truly wonderful, and I’m so thankful I get to follow along.

turtle dove and the crow, part two

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

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

chapter tags: 18+. p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, threats of animal violence (there will be no animal violence in this fic).

PART TWO: REAL LOVE, BABY (9.9k)

I’m a flower, you’re my bee

It’s much older than you and me

I’m in love, I’m alive

I belong to the stars and sky

Let’s forget who we are for one night

We’re not animals, baby

It’s the people who lie to themselves

Real Love Baby— Father John Misty

Somehow, the knock on the front door the next day comes as a surprise.

Maybe it shouldn't have; maybe you should've risen expecting Eddie to call on you first thing in the morning before you'd even brushed all the tangles from your hair. You hear those three sharp knocks while sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, slowly nibbling on a piece of toast slathered with butter and homemade apple jam and still rubbing the crust from your eye with the other hand. You frown towards the front door, suspicious, at first, that the sound may have been a hallucination borne of your sleep-heavy mind. But when you hear it again, you rush forward in your flimsy nightgown, grabbing your Mama's housecoat from where she'd left it hanging over the stair railing and wrapping it around yourself as you hasten to answer the door. The thought of a visitor seeing you in such a state brings a little self-conscious heat to your cheeks, though the coat protects your modesty; still, there's no alternative. Pa's already out working, and Mama's started on the weekly washing, which typically takes her nearly the whole day and can easily put her in a gruff mood. The last thing you need is to start the day off on the wrong foot by making her answer the door.

When it, the sight on the other side of the screen still separating you might be a surprise, but the way Eddie's face brightens so eagerly when he sees you, his features all lit with handsome delight like he's seen the thing he desires most in this world, tells you the whole story.

You can't help the sappy smile that plucks at your cheeks when he pulls the screen door open, letting it thump to prop against his hip as he removes the final barrier between you. Eddie looks a dream haloed by bright summer sunlight, dew darkening his loafers as he stands on the mat at the threshold of your door. Your eyes trail from his shoes upward, skating over bony ankles which lead to long pale legs and ruddy knees exposed beneath the hem of smart beige shorts. His button-up shirt sports a checkered pattern and is practically wrinkle-free, and there isn't a smudge of dirt on him— not on his pale forearms, nor his neck, nor his rosy cheeks. And what's more: his hair looks freshly washed, curls bouncy as if the water from his bath has just finished evaporating off them, leaving his bangs soft-looking and slightly frizzy as they ruffle in the early morning breeze.

"Hi." Eddie's voice isn't at all sleep-hoarse when he greets you— in fact, it's downright chipper to match the sparkle in his umber eyes.

"Hi," you echo, still sleep-hoarse yourself but sweet all the same. Eddie's curls rustle again with another gust of light wind, and your fingers itch to reach out and feel that softness for yourself.

Before you can, you feel Mama's presence looming as quick-shuffling steps halt right behind you. Eddie's spine snaps a little straighter as he sees her over your shoulder; he tucks his hands behind his back like he's standing in a military line.

"Good mornin', ma'am." His broad smile is oozing with charm, and you have half a mind to peek behind you to see if it put a chink in your mother's stony expression, considering the way it makes your own heart squeeze in your chest.

"Good morning, Edward," she says, not quite stiff but with a hint of wry amusement.

Clearly, his charm doesn't work as well on her as it does on you, but Eddie perseveres nonetheless, asking politely, "I was wonderin', given it's Saturday and all, if maybe y/n would be available for a while this morning? I was hopin' to read to 'er from this book—"

He pulls the hardcover from behind his back, presenting it to your mother with a flourish. She cranes forward to peer at the cover— a knight on horseback firmly gripping a lance, with the words Don Quixote embossed overtop— but she merely leans back, resting on her heels rather than taking it from him. Eddie finishes his sentence hastily. "—if that's all right with you, ma'am."

You do turn to face her then, eyes wide and pleading. "Oh, Mama, can I? I really wanna know what happens next." Your face flashes with hopefulness as a sudden idea occurs to you. "And I can practice my embroidery, too, to get ready for the showin' at the fair."

Caught between your hopefulness and Eddie's earnestness, your mother relents quickly in the interest of hurrying this business along. "Go'n get yourself dressed, now," she instructs you. "I'll not have you sittin' on my porch in your bedclothes for the neighbors to gawk at."

With a bright beam directed toward the boy before you, you spin and hurry up the stairs before your Mama can change her mind.

When you emerge onto the front porch— dress thrown on, hair hastily brushed, embroidery basket in hand, cheeks rouged from being pinched between your fingers as you rushed down the stairs so as not to keep Eddie waiting— it's to a symphony of late summer in the early morning. The squeaky creak of the weathervane and the trill of birdsong punctuate the light air, which is scented by the heady perfume of the hydrangea bushes framing the base of the porch. You take a moment to breathe them in, letting the air rush into your lungs— dry, not quite crisp, but not as heavy with humidity as yesterday. This August morning is sunny and bright but mostly still and quiet; it's early yet for the dirt road beyond your front yard to be anything but empty, save for the occasional motorcar mosying in the direction of town.

You glance automatically toward where you assume Eddie will be, but the two rocking chairs to your right are empty; you glance to the left and see that Eddie has chosen to sit on the wicker couch instead, nestled into the corner against the floral cushions. Your expression shows your curiosity about his choice, and an easy, lopsided grin accompanies his explanation.

"Well, I thought about sittin' in the rockin' chairs like we normally do," Eddie tells you, one arm slung across the back of the couch and the other dangling the hardcover from loose fingertips, "but I changed my mind on account of my voice."

He pauses, eyes twinkling with mirth as your nose scrunches with predictable puzzlement. "Your voice?" you question, and his smile widens.

"Tha's right," Eddie declares, leaning forward and crinkling his brow in an exaggeration of earnestness. "M'voice is just so tired from that story you made me tell you yesterday. Y'know, you really twisted my arm with that one, turtle dove. Really took a lot out of me, weavin' you that yarn."

The rasp of Eddie's voice sounds just the same as usual— no more throaty or hoarse than normal, like he's claiming. You cock your hip and plant your unoccupied hand there as you raise a skeptical brow, but he ignores you. And that voice of his is still warm with brashness as Eddie falls into a cadence somewhere between smug and teasing. "So you got to sit close to me, y/n, if you want me to read to you from this here book. You don't wanna wear me out by makin' me speak too loud, now, do you?"

Eddie raises his arms, the book dangling shakily now in his grip as he wiggles all his fingers, beckoning you over. You twist your lips against a pleased smile, an affectionate tingle stirring behind your sternum as you sigh theatrically. "Holy moly, Ed, you really are such a wuss," you pretend to grouse. "The things I do for you."

Eddie's face brightens as you pad over, bare feet skimming the porch floorboards worn soft with age. You hesitate for a moment near the leftmost cushion before choosing the middle. As you sit down, Eddie shifts his body so that, in the position he's facing, you have no choice but to lean back half against his chest and half against the cushion, your embroidery basket in your lap. The floral cushions are scratchy, but Eddie's shirt is so smooth, as is his hot skin where his arm is thrown along the back of the couch behind your shoulder as if encouraging you to nestle into his side. You give into the temptation, relaxing into his chest, which is firm and yet soft. You and Eddie shift and shimmy a bit until you're both comfortable and ready to take up your activities; as you pull out your embroidery needle and choose your threads, Eddie props the book against his knee, his loafer braced on the wicker edge of the couch seat.

And with that, Eddie begins to read to you from the book he'd forgotten yesterday. Yesterday, you'd been disappointed by that fact, but now, you couldn't be any more grateful.

It's still hot, but as the minutes tick on and the sun rises higher in the sky, the day remains not as hot as yesterday. The breeze keeps you comfortable as it plays with the pages of Don Quixote and the edge of the fabric peeking from the embroidery hoop in your hand. You move the needle in and out, in and out, and it weaves like the cadence of Eddie's voice as he reads to you, lulling you into contentment. That contentment stretches like a cat when he runs his calloused thumb lightly against your upper arm, the rough pad catching the skin there. Its path is stuttering, slightly uneven because of it, but you just lean into him more, humming as it relaxes you. And Eddie smells so unbelievably good— clean like laundry powder and hay but musky like tobacco and the salt of his skin. His voice rumbles in his throat and chest, smooth and even and practiced as he lets the words dance from his lips to create pictures in your mind as your fingers twist and pull the needle without much conscious thought.

And every once in a while, Eddie's words will fade into silence like the light of a firefly. He'll turn his head to let his dry lips skim your temple before returning to his book, his voice picking up again as if he'd never interrupted himself. Each time is abrupt, as if a sudden impulse has caught him; sometimes, he even stops speaking right in the middle of a sentence to whisper his lips against your smooth skin. It's a light touch, gentle as the beat of a bird's wings— reverent and sweet, a graze that has your heart turning in your chest with the utter rightness of it.

After some time, the deep grumbling of an engine draws your gaze to an approaching truck, faded blue and familiar. As it rambles up the drive and rolls to a stop before the red house next door, you can see the curve of Eddie's uncle's shoulder and the plaid of his gray shirt just barely visible through the smudged side window. The puttering engine silences, and you smile and wave as he pulls himself from the driver's seat like he's made entirely of creaking joints before slamming the door shut behind him in a rattle of steel. "Mornin', Mr. Wayne!" you call, wagging your arm high in the air until he spots you. He crosses around the front bumper to trudge up the steps toward the front door, throwing you a brief wave before pulling the straw hat from his head and rubbing the sparse hair that encircles the bald spot on his crown. Once the door has thumped closed behind him, Eddie lets the arm slung across the back of the wicker couch fall heavily upon your shoulder, and you giggle as he wraps it around your clavicle to pull you tighter against his chest. "What're you makin' there?" he asks, peering over your shoulder.

You hold it up to show him the thread dangling from the N of the completed 'MUN' stitched in the left half of the hoop's center. There's the suggestion of a flower below it— a large deep brown circle with a smattering of butter-yellow petals beginning to surround it, along with a few deep green leaves. "I'm makin' it for you," you say, and when Eddie lets his chin drop gently against your shoulder, your cheeks heat despite yourself. "You n' your uncle. See? It's gonna say 'Munson' in the middle. And I'm puttin' sunflowers on account of the ones growin' on your side of the fence." You turn your face toward him but can't see much more besides the curve of his cheek and the pink of his lips, which look, unfortunately, very kissable right now. You glance away and lean your temple against his instead to avoid temptation. "What's your favorite flower, Ed?"

You can feel the stretch of Eddie's smile in the subtle shifting of the skin at his temple before he turns his head to face you. "How are you just the sweetest girl I ever known?" Eddie murmurs against your cheek, kissing you there before leaning back against the wicker couch again, pulling you with him. You sigh, melting into his side. "I dunno," he says offhandedly, his thumb back to trailing along your arm, and you shiver as goosebumps pimple under the scratch of his warm skin. "Always kinda favored chicory flowers. They're like the color of the sky on a clear day. No clouds make the sun brutal while you're workin', but y'can't deny it looks nice like that."

It's quite sentimental coming from your wild best friend, and you stifle a sudden giddy giggle as you pull your bare feet up onto the cushion, tucking your knees beneath your skirt, which brushes low on your ankles as you fold up. "What?" Eddie snaps playfully. "Y'ask me what flower I like the best and then y'laugh at my answer?" His breath huffs indignantly against your shoulder. "I take it back. You're the yuckiest girl I ever known."

Your giggles spike at that, growing in intensity, which is clearly the opposite of what Eddie wanted because the warmth of his arm withdraws abruptly from around you. "The yuckiest?" you question through your laughter, nose wrinkled skeptically. "What're you, twelve?"

You twist to face him, and as you do, Eddie's fingers ghost loosely along your shoulder, brushing to remove some invisible dust as the sour pucker of his lips draws into a smirk. His brown eyes glint with a sudden spark. "I think you know quite well I'm not no twelve-year-old anymore, turtle dove," he murmurs, and the sensual timbre of his voice conjures a spark of heat that makes your thighs press together beneath your dress.

"I don't hear no readin' out there. What are you two schemin' up now?" Your Mama's voice calling from beyond the window screen right behind the couch, harsh from shrillness and warning but not outright angry, has you immediately springing apart and scrambling to take your activities back up— Eddie, the neglected book discarded against the wicker arm, and you, the neglected needle dangling from your embroidery hoop.

You hear the creak of the front door not long after, which Mama pushes open with one ample hip, searching with her foot for the step down she knows is there but can't see due to the heavy load of laundry in her arms. It's mounded in a large wire basket, and an occasional drop of water splatters to the wooden porch as she finds her footing and steps down.

Eddie is suddenly a flurry of activity beside you— the book thumps discarded onto your thigh as he clambers up off the couch with an offer spilling eagerly from his lips. "Here, let me—"

He takes the loaded basket from your mother's arms, ignoring her hems and haws of polite protest. He bounds down off the porch, leaving her with a faint smile of gratitude as he strides briskly toward the laundry line to the side of the porch.

Your Mama's voice draws your attention from his lanky form as she addresses you, saying, "I need you to go to the store for me this afternoon; fetch me a few things."

You're nodding before she's even finished speaking. "Of course, mama," you reply dutifully. "I'd be happy to. Just tell me what you need."

Her approval, clear in the softening of the crows' feet beside her eyes, brings you sweet nourishment. "Thank you, dear. I'll make you up a list—"

"Oh!" Eddie's quick interjection draws both your eyes— hers hawkish, yours doe-like. He plops the wire basket of laundry in the grass beside the clothesline and toddles over, ducking his shoulders to the side, brows tugged up innocently as he looks at your Mama. "You know," he says, "my uncle's been needing a few things from the general store, too." He glances from her to you and then back. "Maybe y/n and I could go together? Use his handcart for the flour sack?"

Eddie shoots your Mama another one of his award-winning smiles, and while she doesn't quite melt like butter— not in the way you do— you soon find yourself mosying down that dirt path, dragging the handcart behind you, paper list clutched in your fingers as Eddie whistles your way into town.

A scant few hours later, you're walking back down that path in the opposite direction, handcart filled with the spoils of your bounty, your apron pockets newly laden too. In town, you'd checked down Mama's list one by one: purchased some meats from the butcher, then canned vegetables, a sack of flour and a smaller sack of sugar at the general store, plus some laundry soap to replenish what had been used up today and some chewing tobacco for Wayne. Eddie had, in fact, stretched the truth in saying that Wayne had been aiming to go to the general store too, but you couldn't begrudge him the fib.

It wasn't the only thing he'd fibbed about, too. Rather than using the handcart to tow the heavy bag of flour, Eddie had very adamantly insisted on loading all the smaller purchases in there so you didn't have to carry them, hefting the heavy sack onto one shoulder with ease. You can't deny that the display of strength— his bicep flexed, one ruddy hand holding it in place, but his expression showing no sign of strain as he lopes easily in stride with you— sent a stirring straight to the deepest parts of your belly. And your best friend seems to know it, too; when you cast him a glance laden with the honey of your want, he smirks back at you, preening at the sight of your appreciation, though a bashful blush also dusts his nose.

Soon enough, your familiar brown and red houses loom back into view, and the rusty metal frame of the handcart squeaks its way along as it trails behind you. As you tromp up the path to your home, dropping the handle of the handcart and snatching up the perishable paper sachets of meat as you mount the stairs, Eddie follows you with the flour bag. He's still whistling like he had when you'd first left, none the worse for wear after walking and shopping and hauling that heavy sack all the way back home for you.

You meet your Mama in the dining room where she's polishing the silver— spoons, knives, and forks are all laid out in orderly rows on the tablecloth, and her eyes widen with brief surprise when she sees how Eddie has the flour bag slung over his shoulder. "Where d'you want this, ma'am?" he asks politely.

"In the pantry— just through here. The door's on your left."

Eddie disappears through the archway, and your Mama rises from the dining room table to assess the meats you'd bought, nodding in approval as she takes them from you to put in the icebox. You bring in the other items, depositing them into their rightful places to another approving nod from your mother.

"You did good," she says. "Both of you."

Before she can return to cleaning the silver, you dig in your apron pocket for the purchase that you're most excited to show her. You smile as your fingertips skim silk, but you reach past it, seeking the three round disks instead and pulling them out to spread in your palm and show her.

Your last stop in town had been to the tailor's, where you searched for a button to repair the one missing on Mama's favorite house dress. You'd been disappointed not to find a perfect match for the original buttons, but since they were just a few cents each, you'd decided to buy enough to replace all of Mama's buttons. You pull them out and show them to her, face bright with innocent pleasure.

"I got you these, Mama. They were just a few cents each from my allowance," you tell her. "I know you were real sad when you lost the button off your dress, so I was thinkin' I could sew them on for you. And I got enough to make 'em all match, too."

You can feel Eddie's heavy footsteps stop right beside you, but you only have eyes for Mama— your Mama, whose face has crumpled in a rare show of sentimentality. "Why, y/n!" Your name comes out in a hush of awed breath, soft as the silk in your apron pocket. "That's very sweet of you, honey. You din't have to do that."

"I wanted to," you assure her genuinely, and the brush of Eddie's hot elbow against your arm, which lingers long enough to let you know it wasn't accidental, pleases you just as much as the affection on your Mama's face.

"Ma'am?"

Mama glances from the buttons on your open palm toward Eddie, her face smooth and unburdened as he continues somewhat hesitantly, "I'm not presumin' to know what you have planned for the afternoon, but I was wonderin' if it would be possible for y/n to come with me on a quick ride?"

When she merely stares at him without replying— not shutting him down, but not encouraging him either— Eddie stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking on his heels as he continues quickly. "Jonathan Byers told me there's a field bloomin' full of wildflowers still this late in the season. Said he happened upon it just this week. And I was thinkin' maybe she'd like to see it, considerin' how she really likes flowers."

You blink at Eddie, noting the cautious optimism on his face. You wonder if he knows it's a bold request— asking you to go out after reading with you all morning, not to mention alone and unaccompanied. And you think, judging by the way his eyes crinkle just slightly in a subtle wince, maybe he does, though you aren't sure that wince would be noticeable to anyone but you, who has gazed at your best friend's face more often than anyone in the world, except perhaps Wayne.

It's a bold request— bordering on too bold if you had to make a supposition. Yet, now that the question has been asked, it cannot be swallowed back up again.

Mama's face hasn't quite soured, though it has lost some of that warmth from a moment ago as her discerning eyes scan first Eddie's face and then yours. And as her words echo in your head— 'Y'aren't to go off with the Munson boy anymore; it's not proper at your grown age'— you anticipate the same sentiment to fall from her thin lips.

Your Mama offers the second surprise of the day.

"One hour," she says, brows raised nearly to her hairline as she levels you with a loaded look. "Go'n visit the flower field and come straight back. No dawdlin’, no galavantin’. You hear?"

The shock that races through you is rivaled only by a sharp welling-up of giddiness that you fight valiantly to keep from showing on your face. "Yes, Mama," you reply obediently, managing to keep that quivering excitement from leaking into your voice. "I promise. I won't even take Guinnie so's to save time. I'll just grab my bloomers." You glance at Eddie, and it's much harder not to react when you see the eager sparkle in his eye, the one he can't quite stifle even in your mother's presence. Your suggestion comes out in a rush of words, bending up at the end like a question. "Go'n get Merlin ready, 'n I'll meet you by the truck?"

You want to run, to race up the stairs to your room, rip on your bloomers, and fling yourself from the window in your impatience to reach the ground. You're able to contain the impulse long enough to see Eddie jerk his chin in a nod before you turn away, lifting each foot and setting it down deliberately, walking with measured steps toward the staircase. But once they're out of sight— once you've let Mama and Eddie slip from view behind the wall and placed the first foot upon the bottom step— you can't quite keep a giggle of utter delight from slipping out as you abandon the pretense of calm and rush up to your room.

Merlin's hooves thump softly as he treads over grass and dirt, and your hips sway in time with his haunches as you lean against the broad, strong back of your best friend, cheek pressed to the linen of his shirt. It's warmer now than it had been on the walk back from the general store, and that heat is sinking into your muscles as the sun glows upon the top of your head, turning your eyes heavy and your body languid aside from the grip you have on Eddie. Your arms are wrapped snugly around his middle, your hands locked around your forearms, and his arm is tangled up between. Eddie's skin is a little rougher than yours, his arm hairier, and his hand calloused and dry and practically burning hot, but it's a welcome contrast. There's something about the way Eddie has wedged it between yours as if to ensure you won't let go of him, something that makes a certain feeling stretch and curl around your ribs and sternum, nuzzling the same way your cheek does against the plane of his shoulder— affectionate, appreciative. Content.

You're content to hold Eddie and let him guide you, eyes closed as Merlin continues at a gentle trot until a potent aroma hits you. It's the soothing comfort of honeysuckle and the untamed spirit of milkweed, mingling like a melody of sweet and earthy notes that dance in the air.

You've arrived.

It's as your eyes pop eagerly open that Eddie pulls back on Merlin's reigns, and the muscles of his back roll against your breasts, flexing in a way that is unintentionally erotic. You feel a pulse of heat low in your belly, but Eddie remains ignorant of your reaction. As Merlin slows to a halt, he swings himself down without hesitation, looking up to offer you a hand, unaware of how the sudden loss of his warm strength leaves you almost bereft. Still, you let him help you down, and momentarily, the allure of his closeness is superseded by the allure of the place he's brought you to. Your breath catches in your chest at the sight of the field, which is somehow more stunning than you had expected it to be.

The gold of black-eyed susans and the pale sun of yellow coneflowers mix with the purples and blues of wild indigo and ironweed; soft white milkweed floats like clouds among the tall grasses and ferns, and cardinal flowers dot amongst them like tiny spots of flame. The air is thick with the gentle hum of bees and the chirping of crickets nestled within the foliage, and the field is surrounded by a thick copse of shadowy elm and hickory trees. All of the landscape is bathed in the deepening orange of the setting sun, casting the landscape in a warm glow that seems to both deepen and enervate its wild beauty.

As the wind picks up, the sea of wildflowers ripples like a living, breathing organism, swaying as one, beckoning you and Eddie with its dance. And you accept its offer; you cast a smile overflowing with joy toward Eddie, and without any further fuss, you plunge into that living sea.

As you make your way through, the gentle swaying of the plants brushes against your bare ankles, rustling and catching on the fabric of your skirt and apron. You let your fingertips trail along velvety petals and ticklish grass, feet sinking into the soft earth still warm from the heat of the day as you trail a meandering path through the foliage. You are aimless in your destination, drawn by the beauty of the field you're bathing in, until, on a whim, you stop, spinning on your heel to find Eddie only a few steps behind you. The grasses of the field part like water to make room for him beside you.

Your earlier excitement has simmered to deep affection, sticky and thick like honey as the setting sun glints in Eddie's umber eyes, lightening his curls to deep caramel. "Ed," you murmur softly, "thank you for bringing me here." You suck your bottom lip into your mouth as he draws closer until his scent mixes with the sweetness of the sea surrounding you both: the warm smoke of tobacco, the brightness of laundry powder, the musk of a summer storm.

"'Course, turtle dove," he murmurs, and it's curious that you're both speaking quietly despite being the only ones here, as if afraid the sudden sharp sound of your voices will wake you from a pleasant dream. Eddie ducks his chin, peering at you from behind the curls that slip past his ear to drape near his cheek. "I'd hoped you'd like it."

"Of course I like it," you reply, half-exasperated but still soft. "This is… well, this is the prettiest thing I've ever seen, I think."

Eddie doesn't reply; instead, he drifts closer until you can feel the heat of his body against the peaks of your breasts and the brush of his linen shirt against your apron. He reaches out, and you think those long fingers will wrap around your hip or sink into the curve of your waist, caressing you softly. But they don't. Instead, they dip into the pocket of your apron, seeking the item still left inside— the one the tips of your fingers grazed when you searched for the new buttons you'd purchased for your Mama. And you watch Eddie pull out a line of silk, which unravels to spill open from its roll.

While you'd perused the buttons at the tailor's shop, Eddie had drawn his calloused fingers through the display of hair ribbons near the counter. He'd skipped over waxy pinks and cloying yellows, lingering longer while considering deep amethysts and verdant greens. In the end, though, he'd chosen white— shiny white like a dove's feather. "So you can wear it anytime you want," he reasoned when he presented it to you, "'n you don't have to fuss over whether it matches your dress or whatever silly nonsense you women worry about." He'd grinned wide when you smacked him lightly for that remark before rolling the ribbon carefully up and slipping it into your apron pocket to join your own purchase.

Eddie's fingers are long and ruddy, cracked and calloused; his palms are dry, broad, and strong, accustomed to brutish work and the roughness required of a man of his time. Yet when he reaches behind your neck, fitting the cool silk of the ribbon against the nape before drawing the sides carefully forward to wrap around your throat, his touch is as gentle as the brush of fuzzy down against your delicate skin. His tongue peeks pink between his lips as he slowly and carefully ties the ribbon into a bow, tightening it just enough to keep it snug without it pinching you too tightly. You hold your breath as he adjusts the loops, eyes locked on your neck until his hands drop and that umber darts up to meet yours.

A corner of Eddie's lips crooks in a lopsided smile, and one of his dimples comes out to greet you. "You're pretty," he tells you, and you flood with more of that sticky-sweet honey as you brush your thumbs against his jaw, fingers splaying over his cheekbones to pull him into a gentle kiss.

When you break from his lips, what happens next becomes an inevitability.

Eddie avoids the spiky petals of black-eyed susans as he draws you down to the grass, his lanky limbs nestling into the colorful sea. He settles you on top of him, and your knees press into the warm earth as he gathers your long skirt in his hands and you pull his shirt hem from his shorts, pushing it up his belly to reveal the divet of his belly button and the dark hair that trails downward to lead below his waistband. You work the button open unhurriedly as he searches for your skin beneath your dress, grunting as he encounters your bloomers. You breathe a chuckle as he pulls them down sloppily, releasing his pants to help him; he helps you in turn until your undergarments are finally discarded in the tall grass beside you, and his are pushed down far enough to reveal the semi-hardness of his thick length, which lazes comfortably against his abdomen. As you finally settle down on him, hot skin against hot skin, Eddie cups your face to pull you into a kiss.

Eddie's kisses are deep, warm, and wet, drawing you into him until between your legs beats in time with your heart. Your hips begin to shift against him, seeking friction to relieve the ache, and as your arousal increases, so do your kisses grow more frantic— sloppier, less careful, more needful. He bucks up into you, swallowing your slight whimper as his hands snake beneath your skirt that has fanned to cover your lower halves, skimming up your thighs to take firm hold of your hips. He maneuvers you slightly until his hardness slots right into the slippery heat of your lips, his erection pressed flat against his belly as he grinds you down onto himself.

A haze of desire blankets you as you move atop Eddie in the grass; your mind creeps with it, fogging until there's nothing but the feeling of his body, solid and warm beneath you, and his lips, firm and soft against your mouth. You move by instinct, rolling your hips until you're moving yourself equally as much as he's moving you. Your hands seek his curls, burying just above his ears as you grind down on his cock until you're writhing, whimpering, leaking, cream easing that slide and dripping down to coat his balls.

The ache inside you that was sated by the feeling of Eddie's hardness against your heated flesh returns, insisting that you be filled. You drop staccato kisses to Eddie's lips before leveraging against his ribs to kneel up straight, gathering your skirt and apron in hasty hands to reveal the place where you will soon be joined. You lift your ass as Eddie grasps himself, fitting the fat head of his cock between your sticky lips; you shift until it stops bumping against you and instead nudges slightly inside where it belongs.

When you sink down onto him, and Eddie stretches you open this second time, it doesn't hurt as much as the first, whether because you've already experienced this or because you're distracted by how his face contorts with the pleasure of feeling you engulf him. There's still a pinch, but it's expected now; and as you fall flush with his pelvis, you only pause briefly before you begin to move again with him now inside you.

You don't move expertly, far from it, but you allow instinct to continue guiding you. Your thighs cradle Eddie's hips as you begin to rock gently together, the mutual sounds of pleasure mingling to join the chorus of nature around you. You're enjoying the sight of him below you when he wraps his arms around your back, drawing you down flat against his chest as he takes over moving for you, pumping his hips up into you. Due to the angle, his movements are slight but still pleasant, and you enjoy the way he can now lavish you with kisses— brief tender pecks that land on your nose, your cheeks, the corners of your lips, your chin. Eddie kisses anywhere he can reach, picking up speed until you're giggling, and then he smiles, eyes crinkling with the force of his delight at your happiness. You return the gesture, pressing your hands against his ears to keep him still so you can pepper him with affection until he's giggling too.

"Don't eat me up," he teases you, gently pulling your hands from his ears and weaving your fingers with his.

"You're the one eatin' me up, Ed!" you return playfully, and he hums as he draws your hands toward his face. He kisses each finger, umber eyes locked unwaveringly on yours, and your chest stirs with tenderness at the gesture; he presses his hands into the grass near his ears, shifting you with him to lean forward.

"Use me," he murmurs, his voice a sensual hum. "Press down on my hands."

You follow his direction, using the leverage to lift yourself so you can move more boldly on top of him. As you do, you watch the pleasure begin to grow on Eddie's face— the crease of his brow, the haziness of his eyes, the flush spreading on his cheeks and throat, the plush pink of his lips that pucker around white teeth as he bites the bottom one, earnest and wanting as he stares at your face. The signs of his pleasure increase yours, as does the rocking of his hard cock snug inside your tight heat, a combination that soon has you panting, your head lolling loosely as you look down at him. Eddie's abundant curls are splayed across grass and flowers, dark tendrils that paint the yellows and blues and purples with a spillage of beautiful ink. The skin of his face and neck is pale as it always is but sun-kissed in the late summer, freckled from days spent working the fields. The sight of your best friend beneath you increases that tingling and throbbing between your hips, and with it, the movement you can manage in this position is soon no longer enough to satisfy you.

You pull your fingers from Eddie's grip so you can brace your hands on his chest instead, leveraging a new angle that has your hips rolling snugger against his. An eager groan rumbles in his throat and pushes through those plump lips, and Eddie's fingers plunge beneath your skirt to take hold of your thighs, squeezing restlessly as you rock on him. "That feel good, Ed?" you ask, voice quiet and high but hoarsened with need.

"Yeah, baby," Eddie rasps, "feels— feels so good—"

Your pussy flutters at the praise, and Eddie grunts, eyes widening in surprise as he blurts, "Oh, fuck me, you're— shit—"

"Mmm—" The filthiness of Eddie's mouth makes you moan, whiny and pathetic, and you try to stifle the sound behind a bitten lip.

Immediately, his hand leaves your thigh to find your mouth as he hisses, "No, sweetheart, let me hear you— wanna hear you."

His thumb presses insistently on the plump of your bottom lip until you release it, and he rewards you by caressing that rough pad sensually across its softness. You whimper again, and the sound passes high and sweet through the open seam of your lips as he drags the bottom one down, his index finger pressing under your chin to keep you where he wants you. You rock your hips a little faster as you watch him stare at your mouth, his eyes hazy and deep, almost hypnotized, as he plays with your lip. The movement of his thumb remains languid, slow and meandering. That is, until it wanders almost incidentally past your teeth to press lightly against your tongue.

Whether it's the unexpectedness of the action or the fact that you can feel him inside you in two places now instead of one, the feeling of Eddie's calloused thumb against your tongue makes you moan and shiver with an acute burst of pleasure. Almost instinctively, your lips close around it, cheeks hollowing slightly as you suck; you watch Eddie's eyes widen, pupils visibly blowing as you wrap a hand around his wrist, holding him there so you can suck on his thumb as you ride him. He moans, voice higher and hoarser than before, more breathy and uncontrolled; the sound spurs you on until you're rocking harder, mindlessly obeying your body, behaving the way it wants to behave. And your body wants you to suck on Eddie's thumb, to move until you're bouncing slightly on his cock, ass slapping rhythmically against his thighs as he gasps and stutters, "Holy— that's it, please— please d-don't stop, sweetheart, don't stop—"

And you've only lain with a man once, but the way Eddie's fingers are digging into your hip; the way his hand pinches your chin as you suck and lave his thumb; the way the tendons stand stark from the flushed, mottled skin of his throat, the way the rapid rise and fall of his chest has begun to deepen— they tell you what all women know as their men's pleasure begins to tip toward inevitability. You whimper, your own pleasure flaring at the knowledge of what's approaching, and the sound is muffled around Eddie's skin; you pull Eddie's thumb from your mouth, nuzzling against his knuckles and ignoring the fatigue in your thighs and hips as you say his name. "Eddie," you call, sweet and needy, your yearning evident in the honey that drips from your tongue. "Eddie, please, I want you."

It's a vague request borne of shyness, but Eddie knows what you mean. "You want my seed again, y/n?" he husks, voice hoarsened with desire for you, for what you request of him. "You want me to empty inside you?"

"Yes, yes—" your reply is a rapturous sigh of deep wanting; when he hears it, Eddie huffs harshly, rutting up into you in time with your bouncing once, twice, and then again—

And the inevitability comes to pass.

Eddie pulls his fingers from your grasp to squeeze your hips with both hands; he presses you down hard onto his cock as it jumps and pulses inside you. You hear him moan, the sound hoarse and high, and you sing along with him, sweet sounds of satisfaction that only subside once the warm flood of his cum has coated you entirely inside and the tensing of his muscles has relaxed to leave him a boneless heap beneath you. You lean forward hastily, hands dragging up his shirt to fist in the collar; instantly, as if he is of the same mind, Eddie's broad palms drag from your hips up your back to tangle in your hair.

And then you're kissing him desperately.

His still-hard cock slips out slightly as he hauls you against him, and you feel the leakage of his seed as it spills from your pussy to coat his balls, but neither of you care. You kiss Eddie, and he kisses you, hungry for the intimacy felt in the caress of one another's lips, the drag of one another's tongues, the sweetness of one another's breaths that slip into your lungs.

You and Eddie kiss until the fervency of your shared desire dips like the waning sun into gentle affection again. You notice that the light around you is dim as you calm; the sky has sunk past orange and blue to deep violet and pink, the oaks and hickories now nothing but shadows, signaling that it's time to return home.

Now that you're both sated, Eddie presses a chapped kiss to your forehead before releasing you from the welcome cage of his arms. And when you finally rise together, looking down at the place you'd chosen to express your devotion, the imprint in the crushed flowers forms the shape of a single body— as if you and Eddie have become one person, forever connected, eternally entwined.

Eddie Munson never does anything by half.

Now that he'd discovered what acts of service would afford him with your parents, for the next week, he makes himself quite abundant. You begin to predict the sight of those dark curls bobbing towards you from next door in the late morning or afternoon, brown eyes alert and hands ready to assist. When he's finished with the tasks around his own farm, like aiding Wayne in irrigating and fertilizing the corn fields or mucking out the stalls for Merlin and his uncle's horse Sally, he'll toe off his loafers on the front door mat and poke his soft nose around the corner of the foyer wall, seeking for somewhere he might be needed. In the past four days, Eddie has repaired the bottom step of the staircase, the one that always creaked so loud no matter how gently you stepped on it; tightened the joists on the banister to stop it from wobbling; patched and painted the wall where Pa'd cracked the plaster slamming the back door open too hard; and hung the mirror that had been propped in the corner of your bedroom since you'd brought it home since Pa'd gotten too busy to do it for you. Mama hovers in the doorway, watching like a hawk as Eddie works in your bedroom, her body half-shielding yours behind her, though the gesture feels less like protection and more like a boundary you cannot cross. But Eddie just measures, carefully hammers in the nail, and grunts when he lifts the heavy iron frame; he steps back, squaring his fingers and squinting as his tongue pokes between his lips. After a brief perusal, he drops his hands and expression, seemingly satisfied, as he turns towards you two to gauge your assessment.

You beam brightly at him from behind your mother's shoulder, and it doesn't take too long for Mama to nod. "Looks good there," she says, warmer than you've ever heard her when speaking to or about your best friend. "Thank you, Edward."

"It's no trouble, ma'am," he replies, and the look of pride— the gentle pleasure that blooms across his face to hear your mother's approval— just makes you sink that much farther into the depth of your feeling for him.

If Mama suspects or questions why Eddie has been so helpful the past week, she doesn't share her concerns with you; and once she's voiced her thanks so explicitly, Eddie turns his attention toward slaying his next dragon.

It's about a week after you'd read together on the porch that he finds his chance. You're in the goat pen, refilling the metal trough with water from the well while your father works in the field beyond. "I know," you murmur consolingly to the gray-furred kid hiding behind your legs. He's cowering, eyes rolling, his small mouth open in a near-continuous bleat drowned by the growl of the tractor. "I know you don't like the sound. I'm sorry."

Your words do little to quell his distress; as you finish pouring the water from your bucket into the trough, he doesn't move to join the others, standing with his legs splayed wide and his back arched. He bleats and cries incessantly, staggering after you a few steps when you begin to drift toward the gate. "Okay, okay," you say, your sympathy for the animal winning out against your desire to keep busy lest you face your Mama's reprimand for idling.

Abruptly, the aggressive growl of the tractor subsides to a puttering hum and then, shortly, to silence. You glance toward the expansive field to find it all shorn now, the hay cut to flat and dry before it can be rolled into bales next week. You watch your father hop down from the tractor, his face contorted in a wince as the smallest goat in the pen continues bleating despite the lack of noise from the tractor. Where your Mama is short and ample, your Pa towers tall and narrow, stretched out like a beanstalk, with wiry limbs and a tightness about his manner that manifests in severe lines around his mouth and across his brow.

"That damn bleating's drivin' me up the wall," your Pa grouses. "Kid's 'bout to get tossed in the crik if it doesn't stop that infernal noise-making."

Your voice bends up imploringly, distress clenching in your chest at the idea. "He's just scared o'the tractor, Pa. He can't help it." He scowls, but his rebuttal is interrupted when Eddie appears from alongside your house, heading straight for you both. You and your father look at him, and your eyes rove over his form— he's dressed in overalls, his pale skin shiny with sweat and ruddy from the heat, though it hasn't dulled the warm umber of his eyes.

"Hi, Ed," you greet him, the cloud of your worry broken up by the brightness of his sudden appearance.

"Afternoon," he greets you both, flicking his sodden bangs out of his eyes with a jerk of his head. "Been fixin' up my uncle's fence on the far side opposite your property," he explains, gaze locked on your Pa, "and I've got some leftover planks. Was thinkin' maybe you'd like me to replace some o'your oldest ones. It wouldn't be any trouble."

Your father pulls off his cap and rubs the sweat roughly from his weathered forehead. His brows flash as he fits it back on smartly, and his voice is much less gruff than before as he replies, "Well, if you're inclined to spend your afternoon workin' on my fence, Edward, I certainly wouldn't stop you."

Eddie nods, sweaty curls bobbing as he stuffs his hands into his overall pockets. You can tell he's trying not to look too chuffed, but the dimple at the corner of his mouth betrays how much he's pleased with your father's answer. "Happy to hear that, sir," he says, and his gaze quickly flashes to you and back. "I'll grab the boards and such. Be back over in a jiff."

Your Pa nods and watches him leave; once he's gone, both pairs of eyes, father and daughter, turn back to the kid, who has wedged himself between the wooden shelter and the wire fence of the pen, disinterested in food or drink. He's still bleating, though not quite as loudly now, but the way your father's eyes narrow at the sound of his pitiful cries has that anxiousness crawling up your throat again. "Pa," you say cautiously, chewing your bottom lip as a vein twitches in his narrow forehead. "I'm sure he'll quiet down soo—"

Before you can even finish the sentence, your father has stalked forward, snatching up the struggling kid in a splay of kicking legs. "No, Pa," you whimper, earnest in your protest but half-hearted in your delivery as that anxiety condenses to a thick lump at the base of your throat. "Please don't throw him in the crik; he's just a baby."

Pa rounds on you, eyes steely, brow furrowed deeply with consternation and stress. "I told you, y/n. It's been days of this now, and I can't abide it no more."

Your lip wobbles as you stand there, watching helplessly as he maneuvers around the other goats in the enclosure, heading towards the fence.

It's when he's almost reached the gate that Eddie turns the corner of the house again, carrying a few boards under one arm and jingling with each step as the nails in his overall pocket sing to announce his arrival. Pa halts just at the edge of the goat pen as Eddie looks up, his face instantly creasing with confusion and concern as he takes in the sight before him: your father, holding a struggling, bleating kid, scowling down at the gate that he can't open with his hands occupied as they are, and you, wringing your hands behind him, shoulders drawn up and eyes big and wet, very clearly distressed.

"Boy—" Pa jerks his chin at Eddie, motioning toward the gate with his elbow. "Help me get this open so I can be rid of this infernal racket once and for all."

Eddie lowers the boards to the grass, and while he doesn't dare disobey your father's command, you can see from how his eyes dart that he's thinking quickly. "He been cryin' long?" Eddie asks casually.

"Been days now, ever since I started up with the tractor to prepare for harvest," your father grunts. Eddie nods slowly, eyes tracking the kid's knobby legs as they swing wildly. You watch with bated breath as his brow furrows; slowly, so as not to spook the animal further, Eddie reaches out and gently wraps his ruddy fingers around the kid's front left leg. Impatience leaks in a growl from your father's mouth. "What're y'doin', Edward? Open the damn gate."

He says Eddie's name like a warning, and your heart leaps in your chest, but Eddie merely peers closely at the hoof for the briefest moment before letting the animal quickly go. And had it not been for the earnest seriousness in his voice as he meets Pa's eye calmly, the question Eddie asks next would have made you faint.

"If I can make him quiet, sir, would you still wanna throw him in that creek?"

The goat is still struggling in your father's hold as he squints at Eddie for a moment, his expression half-contorted as if he's undecided about whether to tell him off. Your heart thumps hard, your sweaty fingers wringing as the two men face one another— your father is nearly a head taller than your best friend, but Eddie doesn't cow to the intensity of his stare. Instead, he stands tall, shoulders solid and proud but brow unfurrowed. Not defiant. Just not acquiescent, either.

Rather than replying, your father merely steps back and drops the kid to its feet, not altogether kindly. He wrenches the gate open himself, stalking through and slamming it behind him; it bounces back open, and you rush forward to block the exit as he heads straight for the house.

His shout carries back to you, crisp on the wind. "If it ain't quiet by the time I'm back, I won't bother with the crik. I'll just wring its scrawny neck."

And with that, he disappears into the house, the screen door slapping shut behind him.

Now alone, you and Eddie meet eyes, but there is no secret smoldering or shy smiles now. Instead, Eddie slips into the pen, brown eyes wide and solemn as he crouches to his knees in the dirt. "It's okay, little fella," he murmurs, one calloused finger stroking lightly between the kid's horns. "We're gonna help you feel better."

"What's wrong with him, Ed?" you ask, a little shaky with adrenaline and a bit of distress as you see Eddie pull a small penknife from his overall pocket.

"Don't worry, turtle dove." Eddie's voice is just as gentle as he looks up at you, and the soft kindness on his face makes you want to snatch up his face and press kiss after kiss to his lips. "He's just got a rock stuck in his hoof. That's all."

Your breath shudders out shakily as you watch Eddie take hold of the goat's leg, moving slowly and surely so as not to startle him. It squeaks out another sharp sound as he lifts its hoof; the kid's leg bends at the knee as it wavers slightly while trying to balance on its other hooves.

But when it comes down to it, the whole affair is really quite quick work. Eddie works the penknife carefully between the stone and the horn of the goat's hoof, jimmying it slightly until the object comes loose and falls to the dirt near his knee. He drops the kid's leg, and immediately it backs up, scuffing its other hoof against the ground in agitation.

Eddie is unbothered by its display of hostility. "There ya go." He picks up the small rock, tossing it out of the pen to land softly in the grass beyond. "Now you'll feel much better."

A potent mixture of relief, guilt, and gratefulness fills you as the kid falls finally silent. Relief that he'd be okay now. Guilt that you hadn't thought to check for another explanation for his bleating. But strongest of all is gratefulness— gratefulness that Eddie was able to stand up to your father when you cowered away.

"Thank you," you say, soft and sweet as you gaze into Eddie's umber eyes.

"No trouble, y/n," Eddie replies, his lips tilting with a lopsided smile, one cheek dimpling with the fondness of it.

For a moment, you gaze at that familiar pale face framed by dark, sweaty curls. The face of your best friend, the person you adore most in this world, whose wild restlessness— the fervency of it— is rivaled only by the depth of his care for you and the kindness that leaks obstinately through despite the world's attempt to stifle it.

You gaze at Eddie, at the face you've known for ten years. And in that moment, you realize that you love him.

In your backyard, standing in the goat pen, you swallow thick, welling with love for Eddie Munson. But you are unsafe from prying eyes that may be peering through the kitchen curtain; your voice is silenced by the threat of that screen door swinging open unexpectedly. So you do the only thing you can think of to show Eddie that you've realized you love him.

You brush the dirt off his knees, swiping the dark earth away with patience and diligence until the soft denim is clear blue again.

#td&tc #eddie munson x reader #bluey babe 💙#farmer!eddie munson

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