#he can trick any basket
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sir-toastington · 7 months ago
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(BB) Basket Beastly.
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hannieehaee · 30 days ago
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How would loser jk react to the oc giving him a boo/spooky basket? (A gift basket given in fall/halloween time with whatever the person likes with just more fall/halloween themed items if you didnt know!) This thought wouldn’t leave my head for some reason while i was reading the latest loser jk 😭
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content: loser!jk, halloween stuff, some insecurities from jk, pure fluff, mentions of making out etc.
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, (extra)
wc: 600
a/n: this was just a short little halloween themed drabble for my loser!jk couple. thank u for requesting and i hope u enjoyed!!
masterlist
"this is for me?"
your nod was far too giddy and excited. the poor boy was already in shock at your sudden gift, staring at you with those gigantic eyes as he looked at the basket you'd laid on his lap.
a shy smile took over his lips, bunny teeth biting onto the plush of his bottom lip to conceal a smile.
"i- what's the occasion?"
"it's halloween, bunny! it's a boo basket for my boyfriend!", you said happily, pressing a quick peck to his cheek.
he could no longer conceal his smile, you knew this. it was the word boyfriend. he always had a viscerally adorable reaction when you called him the b word.
and he looked specially adorable in his vampire costume.
well, maybe adorable wasn't the right word. but your nerdy little boyfriend looking hot was not a can of worms you wanted to open — because if you found him hot, that meant other girls would too, and that was a huge no-no (though maybe you should get that possessiveness checked).
for now, you appreciated the pretty boy sitting in front of you as he looked through the basket, eyes lighting up like a kid on christmas morning. his little 'oooh's and 'ah's as he went through the assortment of halloween themed gifts made your heart warm.
then suddenly he halted.
"what's wrong, baby?"
"i- i didnt get you anything," he pouted up at you, genuine worry in his eyes.
"that's okay, bunny-"
"no, god, i'm such a bad boyfriend. you're so nice to me and i- fuck, i'm sorry. i didn't realize halloween was a couples' holiday. ive never had a girlfriend before. i had no idea," he rambled on, looking genuinely remorseful at his lack of gift.
you couldn't help but pout at the poor boy. he worried too easily. it was adorable, but it also made your heart hurt a bit. the poor thing felt like he had to apologize over such a needless issue.
your only solution was to shut him up by sitting on his lap, moving the basket to the side before gifting him all your attention.
"c'mon, baby, you know i don't care about that. plus, i made this basket for the two of us. we have a cute lil matching costume," you gestured to your matching vampire outfits, "and now we have spooky snacks and fuzzy pumpkin socks so we can watch scary movies together. see? no harm, no foul," you traced at his cheek, biting your lip at the way in which he continued to get flustered at the attention despite it not being new in your relationship.
"okay," he sighed, "thank you for the gift," he repeated before giving you an innocent peck on your lips.
god. he was the cutest thing.
you got up from his lap then, taking note of the tiny frown on his face upon the newfound distance between you. extending your hand, you got him to stand up beside you. your hands went to pat at any wrinkles you'd left on his outfit by sitting on him, unable to help yourself in casual touches.
"now, come on. we have a halloween party to hit and some trick or treating to do. we can come back home and make out after that. i wanna smudge that lipstick," you grinned at him, booping at his nose as you eyed what would soon be a mess of red on his lips.
he nodded happily as he took your hand and allowed you to lead him out of the apartment, spooky basket in his other hand.
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golden-cherry · 4 months ago
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deal - cl16 (36/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: Lets get drunk part two - with new opportunities.
Warnings: fluff, alcohol consumption
Word Count: 3.2k
series masterlist
previous part
A/N: hah. you thought you'd seen the last of me. feedback is appreciated!
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"Okay," says Charles and sits back down next to you on the sun bed. He sets the basket down between you, with the necks of various bottles sticking out of it. "Are you more of a vodka girl or a tequila girl?" He pulls out two bottles and holds them out to you. 
You examine the bottles before raising your hands. "Neither, to be honest." You carefully pull the basket towards you and take a look inside. Your hands turn the containers slowly so you can read the labels better, and when a bottle catches your eye, you grin at your roommate. "Here."
Charles takes the bottle you hold out to him. "Peach?" He looks at you and raises an eyebrow. "Quite summery."
You shrug your shoulders. "You promised to take me with you next summer so I could go swimming in the sea. I just want to prepare myself properly."
A smile spreads across his face. "Touché. All right." He reaches into the basket and fishes out two small shot glasses. He places them at the head of the sun bed to fill them with the peach liqueur. "You'll love it here during the summer. The sun is blazing, the sea is cold and the days are long." He carefully slides a glass over to you so that the contents don't spill over the rim. "It's like paradise."
You nod gratefully at him. "So now you definitely don't have a choice."
He looks at you, confused. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well," you sit up straight and pick up the shot glass. "You talked me up about the boat and summer at sea so much that you definitely have to bring me here next year." You grin at him. "So you have no choice but to take me with you."
"Oh no." He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance and reaches for his glass as well. "So I guess I can't get rid of you at all, huh?"
You shake your head excessively. "No fucking way. You definitely won't get me off this boat in the summer. And the deal about us sharing the apartment is on anyway." You tilt your head. "Even if you really tried, you wouldn't get rid of me that easily." You hold out your arm so he can clink glasses with you. 
He looks you in the eye. There's a sparkle in his green ones as he knocks his glass against yours. "Thank God."
The peach liqueur tastes indescribably good and the longer you lie on the sun bed looking at the glowing Monaco in front of you, the more you drink of it. The stars above you twinkle and although it's getting colder, you're nice and warm. Whether it's the alcohol or Charles' laughter, you don't know. 
"You've met Arthur yourself," he says as you have to press your face into the pillow to stop your laughter echoing across the ocean. "I swear, his April Fool's jokes are the worst! And you never see them coming!"
You giggle into your pillow. "Tell me you didn't fall for it." Hesitantly, you peek over the hem of the pillow to see Charles' blushing face. You quickly push it back into your face and laugh. "Oh, Charles!"
Your roommate grabs his own pillow and hits yours with it. "Don't laugh at me! You'll be affected soon enough! And then I'm not going to be the one to rescue you."
As you slowly calm down and wipe the tears from the corners of your eyes, you put the pillow back behind your head and look at him. "Trust me - by then Arthur will like me enough that we'll form an alliance. Then he certainly won't play any tricks on me."
Charles looks at you, dumbfounded. "Excuse me? I thought you and I were friends! You're supposed to stand on my side!" With a shake of his head, he reaches for the peach liqueur and refills your glasses.
You grin at him. "I don't form alliances with people who fall for stupid pranks like that."
He pushes your glass over to you. "All traitors." He shakes his head again. "I thought at least I had you on my side."
You raise your glass to your lips. "I'm always on your side, Charles. You're my best friend," you assure him, although the sentence leaves a nasty taste in your mouth. You wash it down with the liqueur. "But I'm not going to let Arthur take the piss just to make you feel better."
"You're a great best friend," he says and pours the liqueur into his mouth. "Just you wait and see. I won't save you if my brother does decide to play an April Fool's joke on you."
"You wouldn't dare," you reply with a grin. "Your mom would give you hell if she knew you were abandoning me." You grab the liqueur and fill your glasses again. "After all, she likes me better than you."
Charles watches you fill his glass to the brim. He presses his tongue into your cheek before licking his teeth. "I wish you were wrong." He holds out his arm for you to clink glasses with him. "Here's to my family liking you better than me."
You try to suppress your grin. "Don't worry, Charlie. I like you all the more for it," the alcohol speaks out of you and when you hear what you're saying, the blood rushes to your face. You quickly clink your glass against his and drink the liqueur so you don't have to look at the Monegasque in front of you. 
As he puts his empty glass down, he grins at you. "'Charlie'? You're really going to give me a nickname?"
You roll your eyes and run your fingers through your hair so he doesn't notice your nervousness. "Don't worry," you try to play it down. Thank goodness he can't hear your rapid heartbeat. "I only use it when it's just us."
When you look at Charles again, he smiles at you softly. "I like the name," he assures you. "And if it stays your little secret and mine, I like it even more. It belongs only to you. Only you can call me that."
You smile at him before leaning back into your pillow and looking up at the stars. The night is clear, there isn't a single cloud in the night sky and the sea breeze on your face cools your alcohol-warmed skin pleasantly. You feel Charles lie down as well. 
"Do you want to spend the night at my mother's tomorrow?" he asks quietly. When you turn your head in his direction, he's already looking at you. "I usually spend the night there. Maman always gets delicious wine and when we all get together, the evening gets pretty long." When you raise an eyebrow with a smile, he continues. "And there are plenty of rooms in the house. You're welcome to choose one of them. I'd hate to go back home for Christmas," he adds. "Especially because my mom would be alone and -"
"Charlie," you interrupt him. "We can spend the night at your mom's. There's nothing wrong with that." You wink at him. "Besides, I want to have a drink with Arthur and then I definitely can't go home."
He exhales with relief. "Very good." He turns his head forward and looks up at the stars too. "It's going to be a nice evening. My maman cooks delicious food and then we always play something. It's usually Uno or charades. You've heard how Monopoly turns out for us."
You have to giggle. "I would really like to play Monopoly with you," you admit quietly. "And I would never steal money from the bank either."
Charles exhales. "I'll take your word for that. But Arthur is more cunning than you think. He would steal money from the bank and make it look like it was you. You definitely don't want to play Monopoly with him."
You shrug your shoulders. "Then again, maybe I'm smarter than you give me credit for." You look up at the night sky again. "Maybe I can outsmart Arthur and win."
Your roommate laughs out loud. "Then you'd have to get past me first. And I'm certainly not going to let you win just like that. Not after you said you'd team up with my brother and not stand by me when he pulls his April Fool's pranks."
Offended, you reach behind your head for your pillow to smash it into his face, but Charles is quicker and snatches the pillow out of your hand before you can hit him with it. "You suck, Charlie."
"You love me. Just admit it," he grins and hesitantly gives you your pillow back, risking being exposed to your attack again. 
But you merely wrap your arms around the pillow and hug it to your chest. Even through the feathers inside, you can feel how fast your heart is beating. 
"Of course," you try to play down the swirling feelings inside you and hope that he doesn't notice the trembling in your voice. Or the truth in your words. "I'll still try to beat you at Monopoly. Or Uno. Or charades." Offended, you lie back on your pillow and cross your arms in front of your chest. 
Charles sits up again and refills your shot glasses. He pushes it towards you like a peace offering. "Maybe I'll let you win," he smiles as you look at him. "After all, Christmas is the festival of love and I -" he continues, but is interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. 
You look at him in confusion. You'd love to know how he would have finished the sentence. "You have reception out here?" you ask him as he pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. 
The Monegasque shakes his head and shows you his phone screen. "I had set an alarm clock."
You raise an eyebrow. "For what?" 
He points to the time with his finger. It's midnight and therefore officially Christmas. He looks at you with a grin. "I have a Christmas present for you." 
As he gets up from the sun bed and staggers onto the wood of the deck, you look at him indignantly. "No way," you reply, annoyed. "If I can't give you a present, then you can't give me one either." 
"Calm down, mon ami," he says, swaying slightly from left to right as he circles you. The alcohol seems to have hit him hard too. "I'll be right back." Without another word, he disappears into the interior of the yacht, leaving you on the sun bed. 
Annoyed, you sit up. 
The fact that you're not allowed to give him a present has almost ruined your friendship. Just the memory of his words that he wants nothing from you but your friendship sends a cold shiver down your spine. You would love to tell him that you want more from him than friendship, that you desire him, that you want him for yourself - that you love him - but no amount of money in the world would make you reveal your feelings to him. If he actually knew how you felt about him, you would certainly lose the only good thing in your life. And you wouldn't risk that under any circumstances. 
You run your fingers nervously through your hair. What could he possibly give you? You've never mentioned anything to him that he could possibly buy. And there's no way he'd change his mind in a day and confess his love for you. You'd have to be incredibly naive to believe that. 
It's not his fault that he doesn't feel the same way about you as you do about him. It's not his fault that his words have torn your heart apart. And it's not his fault that he can't take your feelings into consideration if you don't tell him about them. 
You take a deep breath and smile at him as he rejoins you. In his hand, he holds a brown envelope, which he hands to you as he drops back onto the sun bed next to you. When you look at him uncertainly, he nods at you. "Merry Christmas, mon ami."
Hesitantly, you open the envelope and pull out several pages of paper, held together at the top left corner by a paper clip. You immediately recognize your name on the first page, with Charles written underneath. The rest is written in French, which is why you look at your roommate even more confused than before. "What's this?"
Irritated, he takes the pages from your hand and lets his eyes wander over the letters for a moment before he hits his forehead a little too hard with the palm of his hand. "Shit. I thought they'd printed it out in English," he says, handing the papers back to you. I'm really sorry."
You raise an eyebrow. "And what's this?" Your eyes wander over the paper, trying to identify any of the words, until you unsuccessfully put the papers down in front of you. 
"This, mon ami, is an employment contract," he explains with a smile and leans back a little. 
"An employment contract?"
" Mh-hmm." He licks his lips once. "Remember when Joris mentioned that he had a new job?"
You nod. Of course you remember. 
After you'd been to the place where Charles had been with his father in the past, you both went to Joris' and had lunch there. Joris had told you that he was starting a new job and when you had been there to burn Annika's things, he had talked about it too. 
"Well," Charles says hesitantly. "Joris was my personal photographer. And now that he can no longer work for me and accompany me around the world because of his new job, I thought - well - maybe you'd like to be my new photographer. You - um - you don't have a job at the moment and - well - I thought it would be cool if you and I worked together," he babbles in one breath, blood rushing to his cheeks. "You'd travel with me to the Formula 1 races and take photos there, but of course you'd also spend a lot of time with me in private. Which would be a good fit, as you and I live together anyway and the fans loved the photo you took of me at the lookout point. And the one you just took of me turned out great too."
Your breath is stuck in your lungs. 
Charles wants you to work for him? That you photograph him so he can post the pictures on Instagram? That you fly around the world with him? 
You'd love to throw your arms around his neck with joy, but you just grin at him. "Are you serious?" When he nods, you squeal with excitement. "You're really serious, Charlie? You really want me to work for you?"
"Of course," he admits openly and smiles at you. "You and I are best friends. Why would I want to work with someone else when I have the perfect and best photographer literally sitting right in front of me? I'd be pretty stupid to ask anyone else."
Carefully and with shaky hands, you put the documents back in the envelope. "I - thank you. I don't even know what to say."
"Just say yes." He leans a little to the side so that he can push your full shot glass over to you. "You'll travel around the world with me, get paid incredibly well and spend a lot of time with me. I'll cover the travel expenses, of course. All you have to do is take good photos of me."
You look at him in amazement. "I'm getting paid and you're still covering the travel costs?"
Your flatmate laughs out loud. "Of course! What do you think? Whether I give you more salary so you can pay for your flights and everything yourself, or whether I pay you everything, it's the same in the end."
Heat shoots into your face. "Then at least let me give you money for the rent. Now that I have a job again."
He shakes his head vehemently. "Absolutely not. The money is yours, you can do anything you want with it."
"Except pay the rent," you reply and get his pillow thrown in your face. 
"Exactly. Everything except pay the rent," he assures you. "So, what do you say, mon ami? Do you fancy exploring the world with me?"
You nod with a grin. "Definitely." You raise your shot glass. "Thank you, Charlie. That's the best Christmas present I've ever been given."
A blush creeps into his cheeks as he scratches the back of his neck nervously. "Really?"
You nod with a smile. "Definitely. I can't thank you enough for that." 
The thought of being permanently close to Charles scares you as much as it makes you happy. As his best friend, you're looking forward to spending every minute with him, traveling the world and discovering the most beautiful places. And getting paid for it too. 
As the woman who loves him, you're a little worried about what will happen if he meets someone he falls in love with while you're traveling. You don't want to imagine the pain if he gets into a committed relationship with someone and all you can do is stand on the sidelines and watch him be happy. There's no question that he deserves to be happy - but the thought that the person he's falling in love with isn't you makes you feel sick. 
You try to suppress the thought and smile bravely at him. "It's absolutely the best present. Thank you so much, Charlie. No one's ever done anything like this for me before."
There is a loving sparkle in his eyes. "I'd do anything for you." Before he picks up his glass as well, he pulls out his cell phone again and taps on it. "Can I post it like this?" he asks you and holds his phone out to you. His screen shows the picture you just took, with a simple caption. 
You shrug your shoulders. "I think so. But do you think it's a good idea to post something when you've had so much alcohol?" you ask him with a grin. 
"Oh nonsense," he grins at you and taps his phone one last time before activating the keypad lock and putting it back in his pocket. "I only have good ideas when I'm drunk." He reaches for his shot glass and holds it out to you so you can clink glasses. "I'm glad you said yes. I can hardly wait." 
"Me neither," you reply with a smile. 
He takes a deep breath before his eyes search yours. He would love to put the glasses aside, pull you onto his lap and kiss you until you can't breathe, until the sun rises, until the world ends. But that's just the alcohol whispering to him, he thinks. 
He knocks his glass against yours. "Here's to us."
-
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liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55 and others tagged: yourusername charles_leclerc: ma mère approuve
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thealtoduck · 1 year ago
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Sweet Juice
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Clark Kent x Male Reader
Content: Greek Mythology AU
Warnings: Smut, Bottom!Reader, Top!Clark, semi-public sex, anal sex, unprotected sex, drunken sex, skinny dipping, spit as lube, missionary position…
Summary: You’re a member of Dionysus following and during a feast you meet a demigod son of Zeus, Clark, also known as the man of steel…
——
You were a lesser deity in a world filled with powerful gods, monsters and heroes. You were the son of the now famous naiad, Daphne. Unfortunately though your mother was no longer with you as she had been turned in to a laurel tree as a form of mercy.
It was considered mercy because the only other option she had was to be violated by Apollo, who was under the spell of Eros after an argument between the two. Apollo feeling bad about the whole ordeal apologised by finding you a place in the retinue of Dionysus and Ariadne.
You didn’t mind this as your duties were pretty much drink, dance, fuck, drink more and generally just to have a good time. It was just constant partying and celebration.
One night when the party had yet to start a visitor came for Dionysus. You were sat close to the god’s throne, you were petting one of his pet leopards when a strange man appeared and entered the god’s camp. He walked slowly towards the olympian. You noted his handsome appearance as he stopped in front of Dionysus.
”Lord Dionysus, you sent for me” the man said in a deep tone. ”I did” Dionysus confirmed before standing up saying loudly ”Everyone! Let me introduce to you to Clark, you may know him as the man of steel!… And also one of my younger half brothers”.
Dionysus followers broke out in cheers for the hero, who seemed slightly confused by the big welcoming. ”I’ve called him here to save us all from the cyclops that has been attacking in the night” Dionysus declared and everyone once again cheered.
”What?! You never told me of any cyclops?!” Clark asked agitated. ”Actually I didn’t tell you anything but you showed up anyway” Dionysus teased him. ”Why don’t you save them yourself?” Clark questioned. However Dionysus only responded with a simple ”Where’s the fun in that?”.
Clark looked irretated at Dionysus and said ”I will not be tricked in to fighting someone else’s battle”. Making the on looking crowd let out disappointed murmurs. Dionysus walked up to the hero and put a hand on his shoulder.
”Come on Clark, do us this favour and we’ll give you the biggest celebration you’ll experince in a life time, with the finest wine and feast, our best music and dancers and if you want you can take to bed anyone you fancy, we don’t judge” Dionysus offered.
Clark took a moment looking around at the crowd surrounding him until his eyes landed on you for a swift moment. He then turned back to Dionysus and said ”Very well, i shall do you this favour”. Once again the crowd including you broke out in cheers and applause for the demigod.
The very next day gifted Clark with a sword, armour and food by Dionysus as he and his followers saw off the hero on his way to save them from the threat of the cyclops.
I didn’t take long for Clark to return as he was back at the camp by next day. He came back in the afternoon covered from head to toe in dirt, dust and a little cyclops blood. Throwing the red painted sword by Dionysus feet.
”Well done” Dionysus complimented looking at the blood drenched sword. Dionysus then turned towards you ”Y/n, take our hero somewhere he can wash off” he commanded. ”Yes, lord Dionysus” you said with a quick bow. He then turned back to Clark and said ”When you return, we feast”.
You went and collected a basket with a bottle of scented oil, a strigil (a tool they used in ancient greece to wash themselves) and a new chiton. ”This way, my lord” you said to Clark and started guiding him through the forest. ”Please, just Clark is fine” he said humbly following you.
You guided him to a secluded pond. ”Impressive, how did you find this place so quickly?” Clark complimented. ”My mother was a naiad, it’s an instinct” you explained putting down the basket next to the pond.
”Would you like me to bring you anything else?” you asked Clark as he started undressing out of the dented armour and dirty chiton. ”You’ve already done enough for me, thank you” he said gentlemanly. Clark was now naked, revealing his muscled body and impressive manhood, which you tried not to look at.
He stepped down in the pond, the water reaching up to his hips. ”Why don’t you join me?” he suggested gesturing towards the water. ”I’d love too, but i have to help the others prepare everything for tonight” you said. ”Come on, only for a short time” Clark tempted. ”Okay” you said with a smile, taking off your chiton and sandals.
Clark watched your naked form with interest as you stepped down in to the water. ”See, it’s nice” Clark said starting to wash himself off using the scented oil you brought for him. You tried not to stare at his oiled up chest but you were 90% sure he caught you looking but he didn’t say anything, he only smirked.
You relaxed in the cool water for a while until you remembered you needed to get back to the others. You climbed out of the pond and started putting on your clothing once again. ”Thanks for the company, hope i’ll see you tonight” Clark said. ”Hope, i’ll see you too” you said and started walking through the forest back towards camp.
That night the music rang loudly through the forest as you celebrated the death of cyclops and your new hero, Clark. You drank and danced wildly with your friends. Some others were already passed out from drinking, some were gambling and playing games and one couple were fucking against a tree.
You saw Clark sitting on a pillow next to Dionysus talking, goblet in hand. You made your way over to the olympian and the demigod. ”Y/n” Dionysus exclaimed happily as he noted your presence. He patted a pillow next to him saying ”Come sit down”.
You took the offer sitting down next to the god, he made your empty goblet instantly refill and put an arm around you. ”I was just telling Clark of my inner circle” Dionysus revealed and continued ”Y/n, here you’ve met, he is my and Ariandne’s favourite attendant and friend” he said sweetly.
”Also he has a body as if sculpted by Pygmalion, carved and smoothed to absolute perfection. You should hope to have a look upon it someday” Dionysus said taking another sip from his goblet.
”Actually i already have” Clark stated boldly making Dionysus spill some wine on himself. ”Y/n, joined me for a swim in the pond” Clark explained making your cheeks heat up slightly. ”Is that so?” Dionysus questioned looking towards you.
”Well, i’ve got to go find Ariadne” Dionysus said getting up leaving you and Clark. ”Are you and Dionysus-?” Clark started but you cut him off saying ”No, he and Ariadne just have a very open relationship”. ”How has your night been?” you then questioned the hero.
”Enjoyable but i’ve never been much of a party person” he said then taking a sip from his cup. ”I get it, before i came here i wasn’t either” you told him and then got an idea. ”Wanna go for a walk for some peace and quiet?” you asked. ”Sure, i’d love too” Clark said and the two of you stood up and walked off in to the forest behind you bringing your goblets with you.
You walked and talked for a while, drinking until your goblets were didn’t have a single drop left in them. Dionysus must’ve brought out the strong stuff because you and Clark were stumbling around and slurring your speech, you were laughing loudly at each others stories, sitting very close together.
Finally the two of you ended up behind some bushes close by to the party. You started to passionately make out, you laying on your back in the soft grass and Clark on top of you. Clark tore open your chiton and undressed you, leaving your naked form beneath him.
He then took off his own clothes revealing his muscular body and his hard cock. Clark took his hand and brought it to your mouth, you sucked on his fingers to get them wet, then he brought his moist fingers to your enterance and started pushing finger inside you.
You let out a small gasp as Clark started to finger you open, he added another fiinger and then another until you were ready to take him. Clark spit in to his hand and rubbed it over his erect manhood.
”It’s time i claim my reward” Clark said spreading your legs, he lined himself up with you and started pushing his hard cock in to your warmth. Clark loved the seeing the face you made as his cock slowly filled you up.
”Fuck your so big” you hissed as the demigod was fully sheated deep inside you. He then slowy started moving pushing himself in and out of you as a wave of pleasure started washing over you.
Your legs were wrapped around Clark as he thrusted in to you. ”I’m gonna fuck your little nymph hole full with my seed” Clark groaned in to your ear and placed kisses all along your neck. The demigod started speeding up his thrusts.
”Clark, fuck yeah! Take me” you said in ecstasy grabbing at his back as he fucked your hole. Both of your bodies had started gleaming from sweat as he mounted you under the moonlight, as his reward for defeating the cyclops.
Clark’s thrusts became rougher as he wanted to take you like a real demigod would, he loved how your walls clenched around his thick cock. He brutally fucked you with all the strength of his godly heritage to bring you to your release.
You let out breathy moans as Clark pounded your gaping hole, thrusting against your prostate. You felt yourself getting close to your orgasm. You dug your nails in to the grass below as Clark’s cock made you see Mount Olympus.
”Clark, i’m gonna cum” you said panting heavily making Clark thrust deeper as he wanted to push you over the edge. Then your cock started spraying cum all over your and Clark’s stomachs. Clark’s own release was getting close.
”I’m gonna plant my seed deep inside you” Clark moaned and his rough thrusts became uneven and sloppy. Clark delivered one last deep stroke in to you and he erupted inside you, he flooding your insides with his cum.
Both of you panted heavily and Clark rolled over and layed next to you in the grass. ”You were amazing” Clark praised while softly stroking your cheek. The two of you then used your torn clothes as blankets as you cuddled close together and you both fell asleep under the starry sky.
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eevees-hobbies · 6 months ago
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Watching Fireworks with Your Hashira Boyfriend
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Content Warning: Fluff. Reference to intimacy with Gyomei but nothing major. Also, gender neutral.
Contains: Obana Iguroi, Kyojuro Rengoku, Tengen Uzui, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Gyomei Himejima & Giyu Tomioka
Obanai Iguro
Isn’t this the spot…? You find yourself questioning your conversation with Obanai as you look around for any sign of the Serpeant Hashira. You’re standing on the only small hill that overlooks the Hashira Estates; you both agreed to meet at this exact location to get a better view of the fireworks.
Blue and yellow dual-colored eyes look down at you, amusement hidden by the bandages wrapped around the lower half of his face. “When will you stop falling for this trick?” Obanai’s smooth voice travels from above you, and your head snaps up.
Fuck, when WILL I stop falling for this trick? 
“I knew you were there along! But hey…I thought we were watching the fireworks together?” 
“This angle is far superior,” he responds cooly, his gaze never leaving you.
You huff and look at the ground. Guess we aren’t sitting next to each other for the show. Your sulking session is interrupted as the ground disappears beneath your feet, and your nose is unexpectedly pressed against his uniform. For an instant, you feel like you're floating until Obanai sits you carefully on the thick branch that originally housed only him. Your brief disappointment in not having his arms wrapped around you quickly dissipates as the first firework launches into the sky, illuminating his face a dazzling yellow.
“You’re right. This is the far superior angle,” you smile and take his hand into yours. 
Kyojuro Rengoku
Kyojuro Rengoku is a pure romantic, so it’s no surprise that he approaches you first about the fireworks show before it even crosses your mind. 
“Y/N! You must accompany me on a date to see the fireworks!”
You enthusiastically agreed, but when you offered to bring snacks to share and enjoy while you watched, Kyojuro insisted that you should not worry about planning anything.  
You wait patiently at the agreed-upon location, but Kyojuro is nowhere to be found. Ten minutes pass before you see him heaving two large baskets in your direction and a large blanket under his arm. “Sorry, I’m late! Turns out packing a basket with copious amounts of food is its own skill!” He drops both baskets at your feet with a loud thud.
“Kyo! A picnic. I’m flattered, but you could have asked for help.” Kyojuro spreads the blanket out before you both and carefully unloads the baskets' contents. He’s brought all your favorites—sweet, fried, salty—and even has warm drinks in small thermos containers.  
“I did not want you to worry about anything, my flame! Please sit.” He pats the space next to him; you lower yourself onto the blanket and lean your head on his shoulder. “I love you,” you whisper as a cool chill makes you shudder. Not missing a beat, Kyojuro whips his Haori from his shoulders and transfers it to your own.
“Kyo, you’re perfect, you know that?”
He blushes but smiles at you nonetheless, “I’ve never thought of myself as that, but it pleases me that you see me that way! Now, what should we eat first and might I be so bold to ask you if I can feed you?”
Tengen Uzui
What’s flashier than fireworks? Only the God of Festivals himself! Tengen is fucking stoked for the firework show and lets you know that it’s his tradition to watch them every year, and while none of his wives like to attend, he’d enjoy it if you watched with him! 
Unfortunately, a Kasugai crow arrives two days before the light show, instructing Tengen to head North in search of a demon that is hunting children in a small fishing village. Duty calls, but of course, it’s a significant blow to your intended plans.
Tengen leaves on his mission but only after telling you that you should watch the fireworks anyway. Who knows, depending on where he is, you both might be watching at the same time, and that’s kind of exciting, too, right? 
So, on the night of the fireworks show, you perch yourself on a small wall and look up at the sky, your mind wandering and wondering what Tengen is doing at that exact moment. You shiver, a sudden presence envelopes you and pulls you into an embrace from behind. 
“Hey, beautiful. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” 
Your body melts into his chest as the first fireworks fly into the night sky. You don’t have to look back to see the joy that overtakes his features—you can just feel it.
Sanemi Shinazugawa
Does Sanemi enjoy fireworks? Not especially. He thinks they’re too loud and hates it when the air gets polluted with so much smoke it makes his eyes burn. Those may seem like silly reasons, but there’s also a more relevant explanation for his disdain, which has to do with demons. At one point, he fought a demon that was using the cover of fireworks to devour villagers; the loud pops and smokey environment created the perfect storm. 
Regardless of those reasons, he’d never tell you that he hates fireworks, and as he glimpses over at you, the pure joy written all over your features as a firework whizzes into the air and explodes into blue-like gems that cascade downward from the sky. He thinks that, in some instances, fireworks may be okay. 
Sanemi pulls you into his lap and rests his face in the nape of your neck. “Nemi!” you protest, “you’re going to miss the show.”
“Naw, I’m good like this.” He snakes his arms around you and allows himself to exist—and relax—in this moment with you.
Gyomei Himejima
“That one was beautiful, Gyomei.”
“Describe it to me.”
You search for the right words to describe the light show in front of you—you always thought you were decent with words until you met Gyomei who made it a habit of asking you to describe things that had always felt painfully ordinary. It wasn’t until you started to describe the world around you with vibrancy and depth that you began to appreciate the beauty of the world around you. 
"Well, those lights, in particular, were a bright orange and crimson color and…you know how when we wake up in the morning, you can feel the sun touching your face as it peeks in through the window; how the rays feel gentle, warm, and exactly like what you need to start your day on a good note? That’s what those colors feel and look like, to me.”
You blush, hoping your descriptions are enough to paint a picture for him. Gyomei doesn’t need you to describe things to him, especially with his enhanced senses, but your honeyed voice never ceases to stir something in him, so he makes you narrate—a lot.
Gyomei hums approvingly, “thank you, my sweet girl. But I hate to admit that when I wake up every morning, I no longer associate the sun with warmth. For me, you and your presence embody every bit of warmth I feel.” 
“Gyomei,” your voice dripping with warning. “Keep talking like that, and we’ll be cutting this show short.”
Gyomei chuckles, knowing that you’re half teasing and half threatening him—and while usually, he’d never turn down a heated romp with his beloved—he’s enjoying being here with you in a rare moment of respite from his Hashira duties. He takes your hand into his, rubbing his thumb gently against your palm. “My apologies. I’ll contain myself for now. Please, don’t stop. Keep describing them to me.”
Giyu Tomioka
“This is a date?” He says in his deadpan voice. You suck in a large amount of air, getting ready to verbally admonish him for being such a smart ass, but the corners of Giyu’s mouth twitch upward, “kidding.”
“You’re not even as remotely funny as you think you are, Tomioka.” You turn back to the night sky, which is littered with explosions. You feel your cheeks growing hot and your temper flaring, frustrated at Giyu’s inability to take something so meaningful seriously.
“Ouch, my last name. Like I said, I was only kidding.” You refuse to relent, your arms crossed over your chest. Giyu sighs loudly, “look at me, Y/N. Of course, this is a date. I…I’ve been thinking about this since you asked me to come with you and that was weeks ago. I’ve never felt so nervous and excited at the same time before.”
You turn to Giyu, your eyes shining brightly at his openness and confession. " Do you mean it?”
“Yes, now be quiet; I’m trying to watch the show.” And before you can huff, he leans back and lays his head on your lap.
“Do that thing I like, Y/N.”
You pull the tie from his hair and rake your fingers through his dark blue tresses. 
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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months ago
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i’ll drown it out
for @steddiesongfics using the song ‘ghost of you’ by 5 seconds of summer
rated m | 2295 words | cw: temporary character death, injury, angst | tags: established relationship, secret relationship, wayne munson is a gift, happy ending, grief and mourning, alternate ending to season 4
🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘🔘
steve wakes up every day to eddie’s face.
it’s the only picture of eddie that wayne doesn’t have in his apartment two hours away.
he doesn’t even think anyone knows it’s framed on his bedside table next to one of eddie’s rings and his guitar pick necklace.
all that’s left of eddie munson is whatever memories these items hold.
steve knows it’s dumb to hold onto things that belong to the people who cared most for eddie when he was alive. if dustin knew he had his necklace, he’d lose his shit.
but wayne knew he needed it, knew way more about their situation than he ever let on before eddie was- well, before he was gone.
steve blinks his eyes, adjusting to the sunlight sneaking through the curtains. he has the day off, but wayne’s coming by for lunch, so he should get up and shower.
he puts the ring on his finger, the necklace around his neck, and heads to the bathroom.
he goes through the motions, same as any other day.
he gets off in the shower, thinks about eddie’s hand around his neck while he fucks him from behind. doesn’t cry until he’s washed all the evidence of his own thoughts away.
he brushes his teeth and styles his hair, though he doesn’t put as much product in it anymore. robin says it’s causing hair loss. he doesn’t have the heart to tell her it’s probably the mourning of the love of his life.
he hasn’t told her about what eddie was to him at all.
he doesn’t think he can yet. or ever.
he goes downstairs and tidies up as much as he can. it’s not that messy, really. a dish in the sink from last night, his laundry basket full of clean clothes sitting on the couch ready to fold and put away, an empty beer can on the counter that never made it to the recycling bin.
he turns on the stereo to have some noise, to drown out the thought of eddie trying to make a trick shot off the trash can and making it. saying something like “bet i could’ve made the team with moves like that, huh, baby?”
he bites his lip and takes a shaky breath.
when wayne is here, it’s easier. they catch up on things. steve hears about wayne’s job at the mechanic shop and the woman he’s been seeing. steve tells him about the kids and robin, the new movies coming out that look decent.
they talk about eddie. that part is harder, but it’s not bad. steve gets to be open and honest with wayne in ways he can’t be with anyone else and wayne gets to talk about the only family he cared about. it’s nice.
but when wayne leaves, everything feels worse for a bit. he’d never tell wayne that, but it’s true.
for days after, he’s left in a cycle of anger, depression, grief, and jealousy. he ignores everyone and everything as much as he can. he wears eddie’s vest to sleep, to work, around the house. he cries as much as he doesn’t.
robin’s caught him once, when he was crying on the kitchen floor. the dinner he was making was burning. he brushed it off, said he just felt overwhelmed with his parents leaving him the house and having to volunteer. said he was so tired and just needed a break.
she believed him and worked his shift the next day, which gave him the chance to cry in bed and then get over himself.
he doesn’t realize how long he’s been sitting on the couch staring into space until wayne’s ringing the doorbell. steve jumps up and shuts off the music, ignoring the pang in his chest at realizing the tapes had changed to a Metallica one at some point.
everything is great. he’s smiling and laughing at wayne explaining the suburban mom dragging her two kids into the shop to explain what they did to her gas tank and making them help fix it. he’s nodding along as wayne talks about bringing faye to a nice restaurant in Indy for their anniversary next month.
and then things derail.
“sometimes i wish you could meet someone like faye. makes you forget about all the bad parts of life.”
steve knows he doesn’t mean he forgets eddie, but that’s what steve’s fragile heart hears anyway.
“i wouldn’t want someone to make me forget. i don’t want anyone except eddie.”
wayne looks at him like his heart’s breaking for him, but he doesn’t say anything.
at least not until steve starts cleaning up their lunch dishes.
his hand wraps around steve’s wrist as he speaks.
“eddie wouldn’t want ya to be lonely, steve. you can’t be happy with a ghost.”
and that’s just it.
he’s not trying to be happy with a ghost. he knows it’s impossible.
he’s just trying to survive with what he has left.
it’s a difference he knows he can’t explain, especially not to wayne.
so he smiles, nods, and continues with his cleaning while wayne thankfully changes the subject.
one year without eddie down. a lifetime to go.
****
year two is harder, despite everyone saying it gets easier over time.
it gets harder because he can’t explain why he still changes the station when ozzy plays on the radio. it’s harder because the nightmares get worse. it’s hard because waking up to a picture of eddie is cold, and no amount of sweaters and blankets can help him feel warm.
robin figures it out in march of that year.
steve doesn’t notice the date at first, not until dustin calls and asks if he wants to go visit eddie’s grave. he turns it down, says he has to work. it’s the truth, but he knows robin would have covered for him if he asked.
when he shows up to work, dark circles under his eyes, hair limp, robin tugs him to the floor behind the counter.
she pulls the chain of his necklace out of steve’s shirt.
tears spring up in her eyes.
they sit wordlessly for what feels like hours, but could’ve only been a few minutes. the door beeps when someone comes in and robin stands on shaky legs to assist. it gives steve an extra few minutes to get himself together.
she comes over after work and steve tells her everything. he doesn’t even cry until the end.
but he doesn’t stop crying for hours. and it’s really hours this time.
robin holds him, and he cries.
****
years three and four flew by.
especially when the kids graduated.
they aren’t kids anymore and all of them will be off to college in the fall.
after the ceremony, steve stops by eddie’s grave, something he doesn’t usually do in broad daylight. not because he’s ashamed or even scared, but because he knows seeing the reflection of his name on the headstone in the sunlight will send him into a grief-stricken spiral that he doesn’t have time for most days.
he sits with his back against the headstone, pretends it’s eddie’s chest and they’re just in steve’s bed, shooting the shit after making each other see stars.
“you’d be proud of them. they’re all off to do cool shit. nerd shit.” steve leans his head back and looks up at the clouds. “stuff you’d probably get a lot better than me. dustin tried explaining his major to me and i think i blacked out.”
he gulps, feels a sob building in his chest.
“i miss you. you should be here.”
he stays for a while after that, staring up at the sky and hoping that if a tear falls from his face, it at least waters the flowers growing under him.
he gets up eventually, because he has to get the gifts he got for everyone and head to their joint graduation party. joyce asked him to come early so he could help hop with setting up the bonfire.
“i’ll try to stop by again soon. don’t forget about me.”
steve walks away feeling heavier.
****
year five is when shit hits the fan.
robin transfers to a university in chicago and the kids are gone and joyce and hopper decide to travel since all the kids have gone and steve just stays.
wayne and faye get married after years of back and forth on it. wayne wants to, but faye thinks they’re fine without all the “hullabaloo” of a wedding. they compromise on having a small gathering at the courthouse, steve and faye’s two sons as witnesses. they all go out to lunch after.
it’s nice.
steve goes home to his empty house, and stares at the picture of eddie.
he doesn’t know the last time he really looked at this picture. he sees it every day when he wakes up, when he goes to bed. but it’s quick, and he’s half asleep.
as he stares at it now, he sees that there’s a hole near eddie’s stomach. it’s not a burn mark, but it might as well be.
and steve knows for a fucking fact it wasn’t there when he framed the picture.
weird shit happens in hawkins. that’s a fact.
but weird shit hasn’t happened in five years, not since eddie died to make sure weird shit didn’t keep happening.
this is weird shit.
he holds the frame in his hand. it’s not broken. it looks brand new, actually.
but the hole is there nonetheless.
with trembling hands, steve removes the picture from the frame. he thinks he’s seen where professionals can repair minor damage to photographs, but it’s probably not easy to find someone he can trust. not with this.
the hole is exactly where eddie’s wounds were the worst.
that’s just a coincidence, surely.
he brushes his fingertips across eddie’s beaming face, then the hole in the picture.
his side aches, deeply, like when the bats dug their teeth into him and tried to take him before they knew what they were dealing with.
the air feels thick, his chest feels weighted, and then darkness wraps him up in a thick blanket.
the picture falls from his grip as he loses consciousness.
****
“c’mon big boy. stay with me.”
steve blinks his eyes open and immediately wishes that he’d pass out again.
the pain is like nothing he’s felt before, all encompassing, lightning in every nerve-ending.
“sh, sh, sweetheart. it’s okay. we’re getting you help.”
steve can only whimper in response as he feels an explosion of pain in his side.
“is he breathing?” another voice is nearby, but steve can’t tell who it is.
“has the bleeding stopped?” that’s nancy. she’s much closer than the other voice.
he thinks hands are on him, but he’s starting to go blissfully numb.
“steve, open your eyes. we’re almost there.”
it’s eddie. of course it’s eddie.
his big eyes are watery, scared. steve doesn’t like when he’s upset.
he uses everything he has to grab the hand against his side. eddie’s rings are cold, almost a relief against the heat of his own skin.
“glad it’s me, not you,” he manages to say.
and he is.
because he knows that if eddie was the one who died, he’d never make it through.
****
steve hates waking up to noise. he’s told robin a million times to turn off her damn alarm when she stays over.
he blinks his eyes open slowly.
oh.
that’s not robin’s alarm. that’s the heart monitor next to him.
the heart monitor that’s hooked up to him.
he feels a tug in his side and realizes he’s being held together by stitches and a familiar weight on his arm.
eddie’s asleep on his arm.
not dead. not injured.
maybe a little grimy.
but alive.
steve can’t contain the sob he lets out.
it wakes eddie up. he’s never been a heavy sleeper, even when he was exhausted.
“stevie?”
another sob escapes steve. he feels like he’s missed eddie for years, feels like every moment he’s been without eddie passed at a snail’s pace and every second was filled with loneliness.
“you’re okay,” steve rasps out as tears fall down his cheeks, his neck, into his greasy hair.
“i’m okay?! you’re okay!” eddie is squeezing his arm and it hurts, but steve doesn’t care. he doesn’t want eddie to ever stop touching him, even if it hurts. “you almost died! i had control over the situation! what happened to not being heroes?”
steve’s smiling. it hurts to smile. eddie’s loud and his ears are ringing.
he doesn’t care. he’s alive. eddie’s alive.
“stevie? can you hear me?”
“hard not to, honey.”
eddie’s quiet for long enough that steve worries he dreamt him up. it wouldn’t be the first time. or maybe it would be. was any of that real? being without eddie?
“sorry. am i being loud?” eddie whispers and it’s good. everything’s good.
because eddie is here. steve is in pain, but eddie is here. this is real. it’s not a dream or his imagination or a delusion.
“a little.”
“sorry, baby. you scared me.”
“you scared me first.”
steve feels the pull of exhaustion, and he knows whatever is pumping through the needle in his arm is going to knock him back out within a matter of minutes.
“i protected dustin.”
“and i protected you.”
eddie huffs something between a laugh and a sigh. steve’s eyes are closed, but he can picture eddie’s face so clearly.
“you’re gonna owe me a million kisses when you can stay awake for longer than two minutes,” eddie says quietly.
steve smiles.
he’s pretty sure he won’t be able to keep his lips off him now that he knows he doesn’t have to live with the ghost of him.
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madwomansapologist · 4 months ago
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stay soft, get eaten | tanjiro kamado x hashira!reader
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tanjiro was accused of treason, and there was more than enought proof for you to cut his head and damn his existence. that was your duty as a hashira. but as a friend, you couldn't. you could never.
cw: angst. hurt/barely any comfort. childhood friends to strangers to lovers. kny level of violence. death and gore. more than one character actively trying to kill nezuko.
an: messing around with the idea of an oc. can anyone rec an artist that accepts commissions? another chapter of me finding a way to put a undertale reference on my fics.
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A ghost stood before you, forcing you to face your past.
Once more you were that innocent girl unaware of how your life would change. Focused on the basket between your hands, making sure to protect the bread inside it from the snow, you had no real worries.
You didn't saw the blood. You didn't smell the putrid stench. It was right in front of you, and still you noticed nothing. How you despise that clueless girl. She knew the world was a kind place. She didn't believed that, she knew that: nothing bad has ever happened for her to think otherwise.
How dumb you were. To only notice the blood after stepping on it.
You never truly understood what it meant to be a person until that very moment. To be alive is to have a body, and to have a body is to suffer. A layer of skin, a layer of fat, a layer of muscles, a layer of bones. Nothing can change that.
And blood. So much blood. You threw up on the snow, and continued until your throat burned. With the scarlet red carved on your eyes, you saw the graves. That made you remember exactly where you were.
Kie Kamado. Takeo Kamado. Hanako Kamado. Shigeru Kamado. Rokuta Kamado. Nezuko Kamado. Tanjiro Kamado.
All dead.
You were shaking when he came. Was it because of the snow falling on your skin for hours on end, the empty on your stomach, or the violent cries taking over your body? When you left with Giyu Tomioka, you knew why: you were enraged.
From then on, you trained. You almost died, then did it all again. Until you reached perfection. Every movement, every breath, every muscle of your body. You made yourself excelent. You protected those that couldn't, killed oni after oni, slayed a kizuki without hesitation.
That innocent girl you despise died because of what you saw that night. That girl you envy, that had silly dreams and could afford not to learn it was already time to grow for a few more years died that night. So why you're looking at Tanjiro's sleeping face?
Unaware of the string muzzling your heart as if it was a beast in need of taming, the Pillars argued around you. You couldn't quite catch their words, all meaning lost in the air around you.
You pinched yourself, as if you didn't already knew it wasn't a nightmare. Life taugh you a funny trick: when you don't know what's happening, all you had to do is to imagine the worst possible scenario and accept it as reality.
And so you knew: you were late that night. More than you could ever imagine. Late so you couldn't see they alive, couldn't help Tanjiro, couldn't save Nezuko. And Giyu lied to you. If not, he at least omit the truth from you.
"Tomioka", you interrupted Tengen, just now realizing the voice you heard belong to him. You have never been so upset, and still your concentration on your breathing technique never shattered. "You knew from the start, didn't you?"
"I believe Shinobu said-", Mitsuri thought you had misunderstood Shinobu's report, but decided to remain silent when she noticed your clenched fists. She observed you, more carefully now, and saw the truth.
After all, when someone does their best not to cry the only decent thing is to pretend they're doing a good job.
Giyu didn't return your gaze. You were almost grateful for it. You don't know if you could endure his coldness now. "You found me mourning his family, and knowing he was alive you chose to say nothing."
How loud the silence that came after it was. Not a single breath was heard by your attentive ears. In the absence of an response, you found one: your trick never fails you.
Kyojuro turned to you, his smile brighter than the sun. "All slayers involved in this case shall face punishment", Kyojuro's energy had no effect on you. "We'll find a way to punish the Water Hashira."
Instead of moving forward, you looked back. "Tomioka", your calm voice made him look at you. This time, you were ready for what you would face. Even know, he was so aloof. What a nice act.
Giyu Tomioka gave you no comfort when he found you that night, only the truth. Giyu Tomioka told you a tale of demons and slayers, of blood and ashes. Giyu Tomioka gave you a reason to get up, clean the vomit on your face, and pray one last time for the family that always treated with care.
"What I do now?", the wind shoved your tired words towards ears. "How can I stop then?"
Giyu thought about your questions for a while. Just when he decided it was best to turn his back on you, something on your eyes stopped him. They burned. "There is a cultivator a few cities away."
You smiled.
Mitsuri gasped. She can still smile at him even now, her dreamy eyes gazed upon you. Sweet like sakuramochi. And as pretty too.
You thought about hiding yourself behing Gyomei when Tanjiro started to wake up. You didn't, you couldn't move. As he tried with sleepy words to protect his sister, you stood as quiet as you could. But his eyes found you, and for a second the world around you faded away.
⋆✦⋆
Tanjiro was dreaming again.
As the Pillars argued about his future execution, Tanjiro couldn't quite believe it all was really happening. Broken bones, exhausted mind, sore muscles. He must be hallucinating from the pain. That's the only possible explanation.
Because you're right in front of him, and that only happens when he dreams.
And still, even so sure it was just a fantasy from his tired mind, Tanjiro could do nothing but to stare at your sweet eyes and pretend it was reality.
How he wish to go back in time and be that boy who worried if you would look at him at during his daily walks throught the village. He could almost feel the softness of your hair against his once scarless palm, hear the poems you declamed with such a passion, see the careful way you treated your siblings.
Tanjiro isn't that boy anymore, and your perfume reminds him of apple and cinnamon. You smell like exhaustion and regret. Like hopes and dreams. Kindness and duty.
"Were you happy?" He interrupted one of the Pillars, not that he ever heard about them before, and in response to his disrespect Tanjiro was shoved on the ground. He contorced his body to look at you, ignoring everything else. "Was life good to you?"
Your smile burned your cheeks, so big it showed a bit of your gums. Usually you tried to keep it cover, but not this time. This time you could afford to smile without a care. "No, it wasn't", you answered with a voice covered in honey. "But I made it good."
Tanjiro smiled. The pain, the loneliness, the fear: it all disappeared. Smelling joy, Tanjiro was glad it wasn't a dream. But of course that meant the execution discussed was real too.
"That won't be a problem, right?" Shinobu questioned. "As a Pillar, we expect you to do what must be done."
Looking into his eyes, a stare so strong you felt hazy, you didn't hesitate. "The only mercy a demon deserves is a of a quick death." You turned to Shinobu, so she could see you meant it. "It's our duty to do so."
"And the boy?" Shinobu smiled, but it was so emotionless. It felt like a performance, but to what audience? Who Shinobu was trying to fool? You can't imagine.
You could feel his gaze burning your temples. "I won't pretend to be our Master and decide his fate", you wondered if your eyes were emotionless too. Were you trying to fool someone? "I know my place."
As Rengoku reenforced Tanjiro was to be killed by his act of treason, you looked at him again. Hoping to see disgust on his eyes, you saw something you couldn't really comprehend. Something warm and soft.
You saw your Tanjiro again. That sweet boy who would protect you from the snow, even if he would get sick because of it. You wondered if he saw that girl you once were. If he could remember your tales and desires.
You hope that girl is still alive somewhere safe. It would be enough for her to be alive on his mind.
She would've protected Tanjiro now. Don't matter the size of the threat, she would fail but would never give up. Now you're bigger than most threats out there in the world, but nothing could change the fact Tanjiro protected a demon.
You stood quiet, dreaming about a world were demons were still just tales. You smelled like defeat.
⋆✦⋆
And still, despite your desire to never speak again, you couldn't ignore it.
"Nezuko glowed, Master", you gather all your strenght to disagree. It pierced your very soul to do so, but how could you agree with that? "She was the jewelof our village. A dear friend, my Flower, so kind and generous."
You felt the weight of his gaze on you, knowing that Tanjiro would never look at you again. You love him, you really do, but if he really wanted to protect Nezuko he would let her go. You would be kind. You would do it swiftly, and endure the weight of her death for him.
"She doesn't deserve to be remembered as one of them", you said. "If her body won't be respected, then let her soul be. Allow me to free her, please."
Mitsuri would do anything Master asked for, but that made her desire he would want something else. That's a sort of strenght I didn't knew you had, Mitsuri thought to herself. Am I strong like that?
Looking into Tanjiro's eyes, you didn't noticed as Sanemi moved. You only understood when he screamed, and Iguro decided to put him down on the ground. Again and again, Sanemi pierced the box, offending Nezuko.
"Master, forgive me for this", you raised your voice. You would never do that in front of your Master, but he was the one to start this. In a instant, you were besides him with your sword on your hands. "But if Sanemi will be cruel, I will be fast."
But before you could cut off her head, Nezuko looked away.
"Flower?" You asked, sword falling down on the ground. "Are you in there?"
Nezuko hugged you, and once again a Kamado shattered your world.
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steveseddie · 8 months ago
Text
shootin’ hoops
steddie | rated: t | cw: none | 4,6k | tags: eddie munson lives, but his clumsy ass gets hurt, worried steve, minor injuries, sharing clothes, first kiss
for my stficbingo prompt: “‘m just tired.”
click here to read on ao3
***
Eddie has always known basketball is evil. 
Over the years, he’s been smacked in the back of the head by plenty of basketballs, or smacked elsewhere by the dumb jocks that play the game. Only a few weeks ago, he was being chased by Jason Carver and his band of basketball-playing goons. 
So, basketball. Evil.
Eddie knew this, and somehow, he still agreed to “shoot hoops” with Steve Harrington.
Him! Eddie Munson! Agreeing to play the stupid game where you toss balls into laundry baskets! All because of his stupid crush on a boy.
If any of his friends could see him now, they would kick him out of the band and dethrone him as their Hellfire leader. 
Well, no. First, they would laugh at Eddie- currently starfished on the Harringtons’ basketball court having knocking himself out after the ball he threw missed the hoop completely, slammed against the board and bounced back straight into Eddie’s face.
Then and only then, after laughing themselves into a coughing fit at Eddie’s expense, would they kick him out and dethrone him. Can’t have your fearless leader succumbing to forced conformity or whatever. 
Luckily for Eddie, there’s no one here to witness how the mighty have fallen. 
Well. No one but Steve, the guy he’s pretty sure he’s in love with which is fucking great.
When he agreed to play, after Steve pleaded, pouted and hit Eddie with those deadly puppy eyes, he told himself it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d get to ogle Steve in his tiny little shorts, trick Steve into putting his hands on him to show him the right way to throw a ball and maybe even score a goal and shit and get a proud grin from Steve, maybe even a high five or a hug. 
But all Eddie has managed so far is to sweat through his clothes (Steve’s clothes actually- a pair of basketball shorts and an old Hawkins High swim meet shirt because the long sleeve and the ripped jeans Eddie showed up in weren’t basketball appropriate) and embarrass himself by getting hit square in the face by an evil basketball, probably giving himself a concussion in the process. 
Because- fucking ouch! His head is pounding right now.
Through the ringing in his ears, he hears Steve’s sneakers squeak against the court as he jogs towards him. “Eddie, Jesus Christ!” He gasps, dropping to his knees next to him. “Fuck, man, are you okay?” 
Eddie groans when he hears the concern in Steve’s voice. Fuck, this is so embarrassing. Eddie knows he’s flushing bright red and it’s not because of the midday sun beating down on them. 
“Eddie, come on. Talk to me, man,” Steve urges, slightly shaking Eddie’s shoulder.
“Just leave me here to die,” Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes tightly shut, partly because moving his face hurts, but also because he doesn’t want to look at Steve right now. 
Steve huffs, shaking Eddie’s shoulder a little more insistently. “Nope, no way. I didn’t drag your ass back from the Upside Down to let you die here. Sit up, come on.” 
He tugs on Eddie’s arm, leaving him no choice but to sit up. Eddie hugs his knees against his chest, still not opening his eyes. He feels one of Steve’s hands settle on his back, holding him up in that position. 
“Good, that’s good,” Steve encourages, rubbing his hand up and down Eddie’s back. Because of that touch, Eddie can feel the flush spreading all the way up to his ears. He squeezes his eyes even tighter, even if it makes his face hurt, but Steve isn’t having it. “Now open your eyes for me.”
Eddie shakes his head, which is a terrible idea because it sends flashes of pain through his head, all the way down to his neck. 
“Come on, Eds, let me look at you,” Steve purrs in a sweet voice that settles deep in Eddie’s lower stomach. Then Steve’s other hand cups his cheek, gently turning his face towards him. “Please,” he says, stroking his thumb over Eddie’s cheek.
And if there’s one thing that today proved is that Eddie can’t say no to a pleading Steve. It’s what got him in this mess in the first place. 
So his eyes flutter open. He has to blink a few times to get rid of the blurriness at the edges of his vision but even then it’s hard to miss Steve’s big, worried eyes when they’re right in front of him. 
“There he is,” Steve exhales softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a relieved half-smile. “Hi.” 
“H-hey,” Eddie stammers out. His cheeks burn even brighter when he realizes how close their faces are. Steve’s hand rubbing Eddie’s back soothingly while the other one is still cupping his jaw certainly don’t help. 
“Are you okay?” 
Eddie scoffs. “Oh, I’m great! Just wishing the Upside Down would open up and swallow me whole so I can like, die of embarrassment there,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. Steve makes an exasperated noise, either because he didn’t get a real answer to his question or because it’s too soon for Eddie to be joking about dying in the Upside Down. Eddie sighs, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “I’m fine, man, just hurt.” 
“Where does it hurt?” 
“My dignity.”
This time the joke does land and it makes Steve snicker. “Since when do you have any?” 
“Ouch. Kicking a man while he’s down, Harrington? Shame on you,” Eddie says with a laugh, which is quickly followed by a wince. “Shit, okay, maybe my dignity isn’t the only thing hurting. My whole head is fucking pounding, I think I hit it against the ground after the ball knocked me down.” 
Steve’s face pulls into a frown and the hand that was on Eddie’s back moves to the back of his head. “You’re not bleeding, thank God, but you could still have a concussion.”
“Of fucking course,” Eddie mutters, resting his head on his knees.
“We can get you something cold or I can drive you to the ER if you’d rather get checked out.”
Eddie starts to shake his head and gets dizzy so he aborts the movement, raising his hand to wave Steve off instead. “No, no ER. Some frozen peas will do the trick, good sir.”
Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Okay, but if you start talking nonsense, I’m taking you there. I don’t care if you don’t want me to or not.”
Eddie gives him a lazy smirk. “How will you know I’m talking nonsense because of the concussion and not because I’m, you know, me.” 
“I know your kind of nonsense, Munson,” he says with a snort. The words sound almost fond to Eddie’s ears. “Now, let’s get you inside. I’m gonna help you up. Slowly, okay? You might feel dizzy or even like you’re going to throw up so- careful.”
Eddie squints at Steve. “You sure know a shitload about concussions, Harrington.” 
Steve makes a face. “That’s because I’ve had like, three. And surprisingly enough only one of them was Upside Down related.”
“Damn, dude.”
“Yeah, but at least you know I’ll take good care of you.” Steve shrugs. “Okay, come on.”
He stands up in one swift movement and offers both of his hands to Eddie, who grabs them and lets himself be pulled to his feet. As soon as he stands, his vision goes black and he sways forward. He would’ve face-planted if Steve didn’t catch him by his elbows.
“Woah, I got you,” he tells him, breath ghosting over Eddie’s face.
“Just need a minute,” Eddie mumbles, squeezing his eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. 
“Take your time,” Steve says, rubbing his thumbs over Eddie’s forearms, which only makes him feel more dizzy. 
When he opens his eyes, Steve’s face is right there again and he gets lost in his hazel eyes for a few more seconds before he feels ready to move. “Okay, I’m good.”
Steve nods, letting go of his arms but staying close to Eddie as he starts walking towards the house, just in case. They walk past the evil basketball and Eddie glares at it. He thinks about kicking it, just to give it a taste of its own medicine, but knowing his luck, the ball would probably bounce against the wall and hit Eddie again, so he just ignores it. 
In the kitchen, Steve heads for the freezer while Eddie flops down on a chair and folds his arms over the table, letting his head rest over them.
He jumps when he suddenly feels something cold press against the back of his head. “Motherfucker!” When he looks up, Steve is giving him a sheepish smile and holding a bag of frozen peas in his hand. “Dick,” Eddie says, snatching the peas from his hand and pressing them against the back of his head. He still flinches, but at least he’s prepared this time. 
“Is that better?” 
Eddie makes a noncommittal sound. The cold helps with the throbbing, but his head still feels like it was put through the wringer.
“Do you think you’ll be okay if I take a quick shower?” Steve asks. Eddie glances at him, who’s eyeing him back warily and biting his lip, probably worried about leaving him unsupervised. 
“I think I’ll live, man,” Eddie says with a snort.  
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He stands up to leave but hesitates. “Call if you need anything.” 
Eddie can’t help it, he smirks up at him. “You’re gonna come to my rescue dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel? I might call you just to see that.” 
Steve’s cheeks flare the brightest Eddie’s ever seen. “Never mind, you can die,” he says with no heat at all before turning around and leaving Eddie alone in the kitchen. 
This time when Eddie laughs it doesn’t make his head hurt nearly as much, which means that the frozen peas might be helping. He presses the bag against his face next, trying to dull the throbbing there as well. He sits there at the kitchen table, moving the frozen peas back and forth from his face to the back of his head until he starts getting tired and his eyelids start feeling a little heavy. 
He drops his head on his arms again and instantly starts to doze off. Eddie knows he shouldn’t, not if he has a concussion, but he’s tired, and taking a nap right now sounds so good-
But just as he’s about to, Steve’s voice drags him away from the brink of sleep. “Eddie, hey, Eds.” 
Eddie burrows further into his arms, trying to ignore Steve who shakes his shoulder a little frantically. “Eddie?” 
“I’m fine,” Eddie mutters, twisting his head to the side, towards Steve, but keeping his eyes closed. “‘m just tired. Want to take a nap.”
“Uh, yeah, no. No sleeping while concussed,” Steve says in that bitchy tone of his. “Eds, come on.” When Eddie doesn’t respond, Steve nearly growls. “Eddie Munson, I will drag your ass to the ER if you don’t open your eyes right now.” 
“Fuck, you’re bossy,” Eddie huffs, but he opens his eyes, giving Steve a look that’s supposed to say happy?
Steve’s lips press into a thin line. “Well, sorry for not wanting you to die on me again.”
It’s probably not Steve’s intention, but Eddie immediately feels bad. He might not remember a lot of what happened after the hell bats attacked him, but he knows that at some point his heart stopped beating from all the blood he lost and Steve had to perform CPR on him to bring him back. And unlike Eddie, he probably remembers everything about it. It’s not fair that Eddie is making him relive that kind of worry right now. 
So he forces his head up, blinking his eyes a few times so they adjust and apologizes. “Sorry.”
Steve’s face softens almost immediately and he waves Eddie off with a shake of his head. Droplets of water hit Eddie’s face and he notices that Steve’s hair is wet, water steadily dripping to the floor from the few strands that hang over his eyes. Eddie has seen Steve after a shower before but he always dries and styles his hair before coming out of the bathroom which means he skipped his hair routine today, probably so he wouldn’t have to leave Eddie alone longer than necessary. 
“How’s the head?” Steve asks, brushing his hair back with a hand. 
“Hurts but the peas are helping. Or they were. I don’t know where they are now.” Eddie frowns when he realizes he can no longer feel them against the back of his head, they must have fallen to the floor when he started to doze off. Oh well. “How was the shower?” 
Steve snorts. “Quick,” he says. “Do you wanna take one?” 
Eddie wrinkles his nose. “I want to but there’s a big chance that I will fall in the shower and crack my head open if I do.” 
He almost wants to risk it just to get rid of some of the sweat, but then he thinks about falling in the shower and Steve barging in to help him while he’s naked on the floor and quickly changes his mind. There’s only so much embarrassment he can take in a day. 
Steve nods in understanding. “Maybe later then.” He jerks his head toward the door that leads to the living room. “Do you want to move to the couch? Just because you can’t take a nap doesn’t mean you can’t be comfortable.” 
“Sure, man.” 
When Steve stands up, Eddie’s eyes end up at the same level as his shirt. Which, thanks to the familiar Black Sabbath logo, Eddie realizes is actually his.
“Is that my shirt?” Eddie asks even if he knows the answer. Steve would never own a Black Sabbath shirt, not to mention Eddie remembers turning his room upside down looking for his the other day only to give up when he couldn’t find it- because it was at Steve’s house apparently. 
Steve looks down at himself and his eyes widen like he’s only realizing now that he’s wearing it. 
“Oh, um, yeah, you left it here the other day. I washed it and left it in my closet to like, give it back to you, but I guess I accidentally grabbed it just now,” Steve explains, running his hand through his hair a few times. 
“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, big eyes staring up at Steve in his goddamned shirt. 
“Do you- do you want it back?” 
Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, man. It looks better on you.” And it’s true- Steve looks good in Eddie’s clothes. “Besides, it’s only fair,” he adds, gesturing down at himself, still wearing Steve’s swim meet shirt and old basketball shorts. 
Steve chuckles, ducking his head and saying a little shyly, “Well, those look good on you too.” 
Eddie twirls some hair around his finger and tugs it in front of his face to hide his blush. He’s ridiculously bad at accepting compliments, especially when they come from Steve.“
“Okay,” Steve says, remembering why he stood up in the first place. “Come on, to the couch.” 
Standing up doesn’t make Eddie as dizzy this time and he manages to stay on his feet without Steve’s help. Slowly, he drags his feet to the living room and then flops down on the couch, tilting sideways until his head comes in contact with the cushions. 
“No sleeping,” Steve grumbles when he sees Eddie’s eyes start to slip shut. 
“I’m not!” Eddie says, his eyes flying open and finding Steve raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe I am, but you gotta help me stay awake, man. Put on a movie or something.” 
With a frown, Steve says, “I don’t think you should be staring at screens or any bright lights right now.” Then he perks up. “Wait, I have an idea!” 
And then, without explaining any further, he leaves. 
In his absence, Eddie sighs and burrows his head deeper into the cushions, but before he can even think of taking a nap, Steve comes back. 
“I think I might be having like a concussion-induced hallucination because there’s no way that you, Steve Harrington, actually own a copy of The Fellowship of the Ring,” Eddie says when he sees the worn paperback that Steve is holding in his hand. 
Steve glances down at it. “It’s actually Dustin’s, man. Kid gave it to me forever ago, but I never read it. It’s not really my thing, but it’s yours.”
“It most definitely is, Stevie boy,” Eddie says, “but I don’t think reading will help my head any more than staring into a screen.”
“You won’t be reading, Eds. I’ll read to you,” Steve says with a shrug. “Now, lift your head.” 
Eddie pushes himself from his lying down position so Steve can sit next to him, but before he can sit upright, Steve tsks and pushes his head back down so it’s resting on his lap, the right side of his face coming in contact with the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants. 
Eddie is too stunned to protest or move, but he does subtly pinch himself, a little suspicious that he might’ve slipped into some kind of concussion dream.
With one of his hands, Steve holds the book open and the other finds its way to Eddie’s hair. He’d tied it up in a bun when they started playing, but it’s mostly undone by now. Steve carefully tugs on his hair tie, freeing the rest, so he can run his fingers through the curls.
It sends shivers down Eddie’s spine, makes him feel like he’s going to melt through the couch and into a puddle on the floor. He can’t stop the whiny noise that slips through his lips. 
Steve’s hand freezes. “Did I hurt you?
Embarrassed, Eddie just shakes his head no.
“So this is okay?” Steve asks, scratching his scalp. Eddie just nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth some other embarrassing noise will slip out.
Eddie can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Good.”
After that, Steve clears his throat and starts reading. 
Eddie quickly realizes that Steve didn’t think his plan through- he heavily underestimated how soothing his voice is, how comfortable his thigh is and how good his hand feels in Eddie’s hair. 
Within minutes, Eddie feels himself starting to doze off again, but before he can, Steve jostles his thigh, the movement waking Eddie up.
“Hey, talk to me so I know you didn’t die.”
Eddie groans, pinching Steve’s leg. “I hate you.”
Steve chuckles softly. “That’ll do.” 
After that Eddie starts to focus on the words that Steve is reading and it makes it a little easier to stay awake, mostly because he can’t help but correct Steve when he starts butchering the names of the characters and locations in ways that Eddie can’t begin to comprehend. It’s not until a snigger slips past Steve’s lips when Eddie tells him that it’s “Bilbo, Steve! Not Bobbin!” that Eddie realizes he must be doing it on purpose so that Eddie will talk to him. 
After a while, Eddie stops feeling sleepy and his head stops hurting as much so, instead of just correcting Steve’s pronunciation, he offers commentary about the book here and there and quotes the book as Steve reads it, which earns him a fond nerd and a playful tug on his hair.
After a few chapters, Steve complains about his voice getting tired, but Eddie isn’t having it, he wants to listen to Steve read some more. 
“You owe me, man,” Eddie says.
Steve snorts. “Me? I’m nursing you back to health, why do I owe you?” 
“Because you made me play with you!”
Eddie can hear Steve’s eye roll. “I didn’t, you could’ve easily said no, Eddie.”
It’s Eddie’s turn to snort because the idea of him saying no to Steve is completely ridiculous. Before he realizes what he’s doing, he blurts out, “Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on.” 
Silence falls over them. Steve drops the book on the couch. His other hand freezes in Eddie’s hair. 
“What?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Eddie realizes what he just said and his whole body goes rigid. Oh shit, oh fuck.
“Nothing,” he says meekly. 
“No, you said-”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Yes, you did, Eddie,” Steve says, annoyed. Annoyed at him. Eddie bites down on a whimper- this is his worst nightmare, the thing that stopped him in his tracks every time he so much as considered telling Steve how he felt. Suddenly, he can’t keep his head on Steve’s thigh, he can’t bear to have his fingers in his hair. Eddie sits up abruptly, his vision swims, he feels sick. 
“I, I have a concussion, I don’t know what I’m saying,” Eddie mutters, sitting on the far end of the couch, away from Steve.
“Eddie-”
“Steve, please just- Ignore it, please,” Eddie pleads, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his hands coming up to cover his face. 
“I can’t ignore it-”
Of course he can’t. Your friend having a crush on you isn’t something you can just ignore. God, Eddie really fucked up. 
“Fuck.” He squeezes his palms against his eyes until they hurt. 
The couch dips as Steve moves- is he leaving? Eddie’s heart falls as he wonders, but a moment later, Steve is sitting right next to him, their thighs touching and their arms brushing.
“Eddie, I don’t want to ignore it,” Steve says, and his voice is unbearably soft. He doesn’t sound annoyed anymore, maybe he wasn’t annoyed at all, maybe there’s some truth to what people say about Eddie being dramatic.
“Why?” Eddie asks warily, but God help him, also slightly hopeful. 
Steve scoots even closer, bumping their shoulders together. “The guy I’ve liked for weeks just said he has a crush on me, why would I want to ignore that?”
The words have Eddie whipping his head back to stare at Steve so fast that he goes dizzy. His face pulls into a grimace. “Shit.” 
“You okay?”
Eddie waves him off. “Did you just say you like me? Because if you didn’t, maybe I do need to go to the ER because I’m hearing things,” he says, his wide eyes blinking at Steve.
He gives Eddie a sweet smile. “I did say that. I do like you.”
His eyes go even wider. “Holy shit.”
“Do you like me?” Steve asks, a little shy. “Or was that just the concussion talking?”
A nearly hysterical laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “No, nope, definitely me. Maybe the concussion made me say it, and for a moment there I thought I fucked up, but I meant it, Steve, I like you so much that I ignored everything I stand for to fucking shoot hoops with you. I don’t even care that I got a concussion because of it!”
Instead of smiling like Eddie expects him to, Steve seems troubled. Eddie wonders if maybe he said too much. “What?”
“I know I probably shouldn’t kiss you while you have a concussion,” Steve says, biting his bottom lip and having the nerve to glance at Eddie’s mouth. “But I really want to.”
Eddie’s stomach flip flops and he needs a few seconds to remember how to form words because Steve wants to kiss him! “Ever heard of the expression kiss it better?” He asks, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a smirk.
Steve chuckles. “I don’t think it applies here,” he says, but Eddie can’t help but notice how he’s started leaning in.
“We can still try,” Eddie says, leaning in too, knowing that Steve is about to break. He thinks back on the puppy dog eyes and the pouty lips he gave Eddie when he asked him to play basketball with him and decides to give it a try, batting his eyelashes at Steve and sticking his bottom lip out. “I really want you to kiss me, Steve.”
Steve’s eyes go wide and his breath leaves him in a whoosh, Eddie can feel it against his face. “Fuck, you were right.”
“About?”
“Nothing easy about saying no to the guy you have a crush on,” Steve says, echoing Eddie’s words. 
Eddie starts to laugh, but the sound dies in his throat when Steve cups his cheeks and closes the distance between them, pressing their mouths together. Eddie whines instead, low in his throat, his arms wrapping around Steve’s shoulders and sinking them both back onto the couch. They’re touching in so many places, but Eddie wants more, so he opens his mouth and hopes that Steve takes the invitation. 
And he does- licking the roof of Eddie’s mouth, and angling his head to kiss him deeper. And it’s so good, it’s like nothing Eddie has ever felt, and for a moment, he actually worries that he knocked himself out on the court earlier and this is just some elaborate coma dream. 
But Steve feels so real- his lips against his, his shoulders under Eddie’s hands, the sinful noises that he keeps making. 
Eddie swings his leg over Steve’s lap, straddling him and breaking the kiss for the first time so that he can grin down at him. 
“I think we found another way to make sure I don’t fall asleep,” he says, eyes roaming over Steve- his red bitten lips stretched into a dopey grin, his hooded eyes that keep darting to Eddie’s mouth, the rise and fall of his chest, the exposed collarbone thanks to how worn the collar of Eddie’s shirt is, the mole-covered skin there that’s just begging to be kissed, bitten, marked up. 
“I changed my mind,” Eddie says, picturing what a love bite on Steve’s chest would look like and wanting to get on with it.
Steve’s hands freeze where they came to rest on Eddie’s thighs, his pinkie brushing against the bare skin after his shorts rode up. 
“Are you okay? Does it hurt? Are you dizzy?” He asks, earnest eyes darting over Eddie’s face, looking for any sign that he’s in pain. 
“Not about this,” Eddie says with a little shake of his head that makes his bangs fall over his eyes. He tugs the collar of Steve’s shirt down- his shirt. “I changed my mind about wanting my shirt back.”
Steve’s eyebrows shoot up, his lips tugging up in a smirk. “Well,” he says, voice dropping low, his fingers teasing the hem of the shorts that Eddie is wearing. “As long as you give me my clothes back too.”
Eddie’s heart stutters, warmth pooling low in his stomach. “It’s only fair.” Then he remembers something else. “You know, I could use that shower that I passed on earlier.” 
Steve raises his eyebrow. 
“But I still feel a little dizzy,” Eddie says, putting the back of his hand against his forehead like a fainting maid, waggling his eyebrows at the same time. “Think you can give me a hand?” 
Steve grins. “Yeah, I can do that.”
They both try to stand up at the same time, and Steve almost sends Eddie toppling to the floor but luckily manages to catch him before Eddie ends up with another concussion. 
After that, they make their way upstairs, to Steve’s bathroom, kissing and touching and leaving a trail of clothes behind them. 
Right before Steve closes the bathroom door, Eddie’s eyes catch the basketball shorts Steve just took off of him, discarded on the hallway floor and he thinks- 
Maybe basketball isn’t so evil after all. 
347 notes · View notes
dhampling · 10 months ago
Text
one fem!reader, 2k
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“Mummy and Daddy’s evening off though, love? Really?”
“Oh shut up, you horrid thing. I know.”
-
astarion is a newly-minted girldad. that's it. that's the plot.
word count: 2,028
an: fluff, fluff n more fluff. no smut this time. soon. promise. parts ONE and TWO linked respectively but can be read alone.
-
“She’s asleep, Astarion!” 
You are wide eyed, furious; speaking in a whispered shout at your husband.
His pale hands flit across the ties of your shirt, frisking every which way they turn. You slap them off like flies on fruit.
“Even more reason to take advantage of the situation, if you ask me.” He murmurs hungrily in your ear, hands now circling down to your waist to tug on your waistband.
“It’s a fine job I didn’t ask you then!” Gritted teeth. Eyes aflame. Cornered against the dresser.
The crib beside your bed holds your infant daughter - skittish and fresh to a world wholly unknown in every sense of the word. She rests rarely and wails often for company in these early months of being alive with you both. Pallid and red-eyed yet beautiful beyond comparison and entirely yours. 
Seeing you together brings him joy unparalleled. 
He has, genuinely; never been prouder of anything of his doing - saving the Sword Coast is a drop in the ocean that is completely and utterly awash with love for your youngling. The mistaken mess of his own bastard elven vampiric genetics now born unto another. This time it would be right. The hunger, the rot; the abuse and neglect, they were hundreds of miles away.
He would make it right. 
But it was already so. She was here, and you all cried together in that dark, sweaty birth chamber. His great guttural sob at her birth, wracked with emotion he never knew he could possibly be permitted to feel on this immortal coil. Your genuinely feral howls of pain turned weeping with pure joy.
Two full days of agony unlike any you’ve ever endured and she had arrived, breathing; wailing; skin of a changeling in birthing viscera and lungs keen to rival any bellow of the Gods.
Astarion weakly clinging to you both; tears salting your lips and wetting her tiny head for hours on end. 
The great weight of another being on your shoulders. His sincere - yet cliche - fervently whispered oath to her just moments after being placed in his arms.
She is home. She is loved beyond any unit of measure. She will want for nothing, and she will never know anguish like that of her parents and their complex lives. No matter who she is or what she becomes, she has two people who are in her corner. She will be fierce if she so desires. Cunning. Witty. Roguish. Barbaric. Horrid. 
It didn’t matter. It never would. 
She was yours, and his; and she would always have a choice.
He had spoken with her for hours, the nurse whispered to inform you once you had awoken from the deepest slumber of your life. Even then when you looked he was hanging over her small form in her cot, running his lithe fingers over her tiny hands and feet in a repetitive soothing pattern. 
When you queried the topic of conversation he simply looked at you with a grin so lovesick it would flip your stomach completely. Butterflies.
-
“We deserve a bit of fun though, darling. Mummy and Daddy’s evening off? No?” 
Astarion pouts, wrapping his arms around you - still pinned against the dresser - and inhaling your scent deeply. 
You return the gesture and cough reactively.
“You stink of Noblestalk. I know your tricks.”
You playfully shove him away and tiptoe from your room to the landing, the pale elf hot on your heels.
“I have never stunk in my life, thank you.” He sulks. 
You pointedly stop to look at him, before picking up a basket of waiting laundry and descending the stairs. He follows.
“I’m trying to fuck you, dear. Don’t make it weird.” He rolls his eyes and huffs. 
You hum. 
“Corpses tend to smell awful.” 
“Warning.”
“You started it.”
“Touché.”
A beat of silence.
“Mummy and Daddy’s evening off though, love? Really?” 
“Oh shut up, you horrid thing. I know.”
“You’re getting rusty.”
He captures you in a kiss as you reach the bottom of the stairs, slow and patient. Holding your free arm to keep you close. 
“Look at me. I’m the epitome of the fatherly jester!’
Waggles his free hand.
‘I have been blessed with brains and humour anew by the birth of our daughter, clearly.’
He grimaces.
‘Not necessarily superior versions of either, but I - am - changed.” 
From the moment of her conception you’d felt it. An old wives’ tale. The night you’d agreed to mother a brood alongside him, you knew she was there. That she was her. That she was brewing as something brilliant deep inside you and nothing would be as it was ever again. 
He’d called it ridiculous, gestured wildly and rolled his eyes to the deepest hells, but a hazardous hope never left them until you’d far missed your bleed and it was confirmed to be true.
From that moment onwards, something shifted even further in Astarion. 
The domestic tether to your townhouse in the city - no longer just a convenience to remain a steady base for you both, but a fundamental part of his scene setting, to plant roots and grow together. Two centuries of rot and abuse, and his reward was finally nearing completion.
His nesting phase began far earlier than yours and with greater intensity than you could’ve matched even without the issue of your later-heaving belly. Entire pinboards tacked with decadent fabric swatches for every occasion - be it swaddling or nursery curtains. Tailor’s tape around his neck each morning and notebook in hand to note your measurements and take inventory of your wardrobe; ensuring you never looked awry or felt anything less than wholly comfortable. 
Because gods forbid ill-fitted clothing stand in the way of you and your brutal vomiting spells, obviously. A pointed click of his tongue as he fixes your sleeve.
In the middle months of your gestation, the typically discerning clientele who visited you and Astarion in your tailor’s store at the dead of night were the first to become privy to the news. Rounder by the week, flushed; brimming with a deep fatigue and yet somehow absolutely aglow.
Children to be fitted for yet another presentation evening placed sleepy hands on your belly with a saccharine softness. Their parents jostle you - sometimes in congratulations, sometimes to whisper in sheer curiosity. Dhampir are a notoriously rare breed, and you’re certain there were rumours of a third party involvement in the process.
‘No, no. We just tried really, really hard.’ You’d smile, as if in a blissful stupor from just the recollection. He’d turn to you with his ridiculously brilliant hearing; needle between teeth, brow raised; lips upturned in a slight quirk. Devilishly handsome, never anything less.
-
You drop the laundry basket in the kitchen corner. A stuffed bear falls from it. Clive.
A pause.
“You never asked what I did with that shirt, you know.”
It takes you a moment to recall which shirt he’s referring to. He sits at the table and watches you lazily.
“Which? The one for Mr. Chugley? I didn’t think it needed much by way of adjustment, at least?”
A stale piece of burnt toast sits on the counter untouched. You bite and chew and bite and chew like a woman who has never once tasted a morsel so divine; so untainted by the evils of hot butter and a filling bronze crunch.
“Oh - Bunt? Gods, no.’
He sips his stone-cold tea. A fresh film wobbles on top.
‘Bunt Chugley.”
A snort of laughter sends it straight back through his nose and out onto the table. You begin to choke on your toast.
“Bunt Chugley.” You giggle, crumbs spilling from your mouth.
Astarion stands to wipe himself down, creasing over with an escalating laughter.
“Bunt Chugley.”
He waggles his hands, eyes heavy lidded with lack of rest. 
He looks purely maniacal.
“That’s- that’s what we should-’
You stop for breath, cackling now; hands over knees for a brief moment.
‘We should call the next one Bunt Chugley.”
He launches into a wheezing fit.
“How- How would that even work, darling? Like Bunt Chugley Ancunín, or- or-”
“No! No, no. Just that. Bunt Chugley.”
You hold both hands to your eye as if framing a canvas, looking through the gap at the ludicrous proposition in front of you. 
He takes a moment to still. Smiles at you dopily.
Crosses the floor and brings both hands down to your waist with a gentle grasp.
“I am so sorry, my love.” He grins and holds his forehead against yours.
You look at him, dazed.
“Hmm?’
He simply looks up. 
A profoundly gut-wrenching wail becomes apparent to you from above. Your face falls.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Astarion.”
-
He’s up the stairs before you can comment further, swiftly darting back into your chambers and grinning with an unbridled joy - though, you note, with lack of rest that grin is beginning to look more insane by the hour.
“Sweetheart! My darling girl. Shush now. You’re sounding something absolutely wicked.”
You watch on from the doorway, arms folded; stale toast in hand and jaws meeting in a firm chew.
He’s far too good with her. 
It somewhat surprised you at first just how innately fatherhood came to him, but as he picks her up and cradles her intently it’s as if there are fractures of his own childhood coming back. How he was loved, how he was held. 
A piece of him, now alive and breathing again after all these years of death.  
He coos at her, bouncing her small frame gently in his arms and hushing her with each wail. It takes very little for soft mewls to take their place as she reaches aimlessly in his direction. 
He leans towards her grasping fingers and allows her to take one of his ringlets from the front of his head as he kisses her tummy. She’s enthralled by him; recognises him. She wants to know more of him. 
As he lifts his head her grasp remains firm.
“We have some work to do on your sleight of hand, I think. Not to worry.” 
Ever so gently, he unpicks her fascinated fingers and kisses them all in tow. Her face looks almost ready to crumple before he reaches for one final kiss on the very top of her head.
“There, now. All better. Back to sleep?’
A gurgle. A puzzled blink.
‘Absolutely. Mummy does look particularly radiant today, doesn’t she? I’ll be sure to send your regards.”
He catches the smile on your face. Winks your way.
“You’re getting the baby to flirt on your behalf now?” You tease.
“That’s the lady of the house to you. She was simply passing on her praises.” He whispers as he places her back into her crib and steps back fondly. Sidles over to you as you finish the last bite of toast and pulls you in for a soft kiss.
“Stop playing coy. I know you feel the same way I do.’
He whispers down at you.
‘You want another one, don’t you?’
A kiss on the very top of your head.
“You’re projecting.” You smile.
You can’t deny him for long, he knows this. You don’t particularly want to. 
Since becoming a mother you’ve taken to parenthood almost as naturally as he has; and when the topic has come up since you’ve struggled to say no and mean it.
“Think, though. The sooner we try again, the sooner we can begin building our little mercenary force.” He looks at you with the face of a man who thinks he’s just had a really good idea.
“Oh! Yes! You’ve sold me!’
You pull him into a long kiss, the kind that still makes you swoon after all this time together. He tastes like cold tea and smells so clinical you can’t help but laugh heartily as you pull away.
‘That Noblestalk is getting to me. Have a bath and try again with a little less?”
He scowls before narrowing his eyes in thought.
“Does that mean what I think it means?”
“It just might, my darling dearest.” 
You wink this time.
The bath starts running before you’ve fully made it back down the stairs.
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fortheloveoffanfic · 2 months ago
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What if this is the last time I see you?
Hozier x fem!reader
Author's note: I'm sorry that I haven't finished one angsty story before forcing another onto you. But this one is shorter, I promise.
Summary: A chance run-in between exes at the farmers market leaves Andrew wondering if he’ll be okay never seeing Y/n again. Part 1 of 2.
Warnings: ANGST
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At first, Andrew thinks his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But the longer he stares, the more it makes sense – and the more it makes sense, the more he is convinced. A pop-up farmers market, a fruit vendor selling an assortment of brightly coloured, sure-to-be sweet, freshly picked fruit. Or so he says.
She’s wearing a jacket that he swears he’s seen before, but it could’ve very well been on a mannequin in a store front and not in her closet – or on her body.
But he’s certain that its her. She’s carrying the basket in a way that’s all too familiar. She’s looking at strawberries and those are her favorite in the summer. It must be her.
So it must be divine intervention that he drove past the farmers market and decided to stop, because Andrew usually gets his produce at the grocery store, on the occasion that he’s home for long enough to do his own shopping.
Setting down the bright, glossy apple he’d been holding onto for a criminally long period, he inches towards her little section of the booth, debating what he should say. ‘Hi’ doesn’t feel like enough, but he fears that if he takes a chance with anything more he might stomp all over their impromptu reunion. He doesn’t want to be too much;
What a funny thought, he thinks. Considering the whole reason for their end was because he wasn’t enough.
Well, that might be a bit of an unfair distribution of blame. He’s pretty good at playing the victim where the demise of their relationship is concerned.
By the time he reaches her, Y/n has already placed a few strawberries into a plastic baggie and is looking for a few more to round off her purchase. And he settles on the very measly and shamefully uneventful; “hey.”
Surprised, Y/n jumps slightly and twists to face him, eyes going wide. “Andy, oh my gosh, hey.” She hesitates for a moment before reaching out for a hug that becomes quite a clumsy endeavor. They don’t seem to know each other as well as they used to; he can’t tell if she’s reaching for his neck or midsection, so their limbs get tangled in a strange manner. “Sorry,” she mumbles bashfully when the whole thing goes on for longer than any ‘I haven’t seen you in five years’ hug should take.
Shrugging off the unwarranted apology, Andrew stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans in an effort to keep himself from touching her again. “How have you been?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but his gaze drips to her left hand, looking for any sign of a ring. And when there isn’t one, he feels a knot in his chest loosen a little.
“I’ve been….” Y/n trails off, as if the question is the hardest one she’s been asked in a while. In some ways, she supposes it is. Is she supposed to lie to Andrew? Tell him she’s fine and happy and her life is going fantastically well when the truth is she hasn’t been able to scrub the memory of him from her mind and she still buys his favorite brand of tea because when it brews, the smell makes her house feel a little more like home. “I’ve been alright,” its something between the truth and any lie she can tell; she is alright. Alive and healthy, if only a little sad sometimes – but who isn’t, right? “You?”
Andrew fumbles with his words, he’s not sure why but the question feels almost taunting. Why would she throw that back to him? Why wouldn’t she just assume that she’s stowed the best of him into a box and taken it along with her? Everyone else sees it, they tell him he hasn’t looked the same since she left, that he talks differently and he’s truly a little depressing to be around sometimes. “I’m…..okay.” Just okay – not good, not bad, but somewhere in limbo, surviving.
At his response, Y/n nods absently. God, he wishes he knew what that meant. He wishes he still knew her well enough to know what anything she does means. There used to be things that only he understood about Y/n. There’s a version of her in his mind that still whispers in the dark, even if they’re the only people in the room, and ensures all the cutlery in the drawer is packed in the same direction. There’s a version of her that might have tilted her head at his response, and told him that she knows that ‘okay’ is never just ‘okay.’
But this is someone else, someone he doesn’t know. But he loves her anyway.
He’ll love every version of her. But at least he’s only lost one.
“You’re probably the last person I’d expect to run into, here especially,” but maybe she doesn’t really know him that well anymore. Maybe he goes to the farmer’s market every Sunday now and they’ve just been missing each other.
Maybe he goes with his girlfriend - a wife even -and right now she's at another vendor. She's going to be back soon. And she'll be beautiful and Y/n will think; no wonder he let me go so easily, because he knew there was better was out there.
Shaking off the unsettling thought, Y/n adds, “you used to get everything at the grocery store.”
“You used to grow everything yourself,” he notes, not maliciously though. It's really just an innocent observation; he wonders why she stopped.
“I guess…..we’ve changed,” Y/n muses, and a little sliver of her wonders if they’ve changed enough to make it work for a second time around.
“Not too much, I hope,” but what he really means to say is; ‘I hope we’re still the kind of people that can love each other.’ “Ehm,” he clears his throat softly, and finally gathers the courage to ask what he’d been thinking about since he discreetly examined her finger, “seeing anyone?”
What a question! Simultaneously, it makes her want to laugh and cry. “Not right now, no.” Of course, she’s seen other people since their break-up, but nothing ever sticks, and that might be because every man is now measured to Andrew; does it taste the same when they kiss her? Hold her hand the way he used to? Do they tell the same sort of jokes or thread their fingers through her hair before falling asleep? “What about you?”
Andrew waves his hand dismissively, “no one serious,” there isn't really anyone at all, but he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a complete wreck and one more white lie can’t hurt.
“Good,” the word slips out almost without thought, and Y/n quickly shakes her head when Andrew arches a brow. He isn't supposed to know that she's relieved; that he just quashed one of her biggest fears - that there's another woman that knows him as well as she does, but couldn't love him half as much, “well....not good. Just you know….you’re good at being on your own,” he was pretty damn good on his own even when they lived in the same house, “so I’m sure you’re doing good,” god, she wishes she had stopped talking three minutes ago.
Hesitating, he bites his tongue as the urge to tell her that he's not okay and it's all her fault wells up. Didn’t she see the lie in his eyes when he said he was okay? Is he that much of a stranger to her now?
Again, Andrew shrugs halfheartedly, “I’ve been okay,” he repeats before pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t trust himself to add anything more, because then he’ll say he still misses her and its been far too long for him to still be mourning an empty side of the bed and the sound of her laughter in the drawing room.
He shouldn’t still go into his home studio and still expect her to come trailing after him, armed with a book with the intention of curling up on the sofa that gets just the right amount of noon sun. He shouldn't miss the way she looks while humming along softly to what he's working on, blanket draped on her folded legs, hazy light washing her face - he shouldn’t have left her blanket there after all this time.
He shouldn’t even be thinking about it, because the more he does, the more he wants to tell her. Beg Y/n to come back – to take him back because he’s really only half himself without her.
“I should let you –”
“You probably have –”
“Sorry.” Another clumsy, awkward apology, this one in aching unison. There’s silence for a while, and Y/n tugs her lower lip between her teeth. In a way, it feels like they’ve been standing there for too long, at least, like this. Not knowing what to say to each other, with the nails of her free hand digging into her palm so she doesn’t reach out to touch his arm. It shouldn’t be like this, she never wanted them to come to this; reduced to two awfully familiar strangers. “I should um….I have to….go…” She goes to say home, but the word doesn’t come, “I gotta go, Andrew.”
Swallowing the lump that’s been caught in his throat since he first saw fifteen minutes earlier, Andrew nods stiffly. “Of course,” he breathes. The last thing he wants is for her to leave, but he doesn’t really have any right to keep her. “I’ll leave you to it.” They both nod that time, shy and unsure but no one leaves. Not immediately. His eyes stay matching hers, and there’s a hundred things weighing down the tip of his tongue, but clinging to it like molten sugar.
I'm sorry I let you walk out, I'm sorry about everything. I still keep your ring in my nightstand, just in case. My mom still asks about you. I should've been better, let you in and I know that now. I'd do it now. I'm actually horrible on my own now, because you've ruined me in the best way - and the worst. But he doesn't say any of it; the moment is long gone and his pride does a pretty good job at keeping him quiet.
A shuddered breath escapes her lips upon realizing that she actually hasn’t moved an inch; Y/n doesn’t think she can be the one to bring herself to leave this time. She doesn't want to turn her back to him again. So she lingers, and she swears roots are sprouting from the soles of her feet, keeping her in place, staring into his eyes because lost in them is suddenly the only place she wants to be.
“I should go,” he eventually determines, glancing away. Though, the minute he says it, Andrew is lashed with immediate regret; he does not want to go. He doesn’t want to leave, but he suspects that this time its entirely on him to turn around and walk away.
“Right, right,” Y/n blinks quickly, then, just as he’s about to turn, she interjects, if only for the purpose of holding him there a little longer, “it was really nice seeing you.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything, not right then. Though, when he turns away and starts retreating to the other end of the small tent, squinting his eyes at the midday sun, catching him square in the face, he pauses. Throwing a cautious backwards glance her way, he finds that Y/n has returned to picking out strawberries and on a whim, Andrew finally allows himself a singular moment of weakness – perhaps in a way of giving her what she’s wanted since their very last fight. “I’ve missed you,” he utters.
Y/n’s head snaps up just as she hands the bag over to the vendor for weighting, “what?” Her brows are furrowed and her lips are slightly agape.
Hating the sudden vulnerability that comes with those three little words, he shakes his head, “nothing. I’ll see you around,” he spares her a short wave, and she does the same.
After that, not a single word is traded between them again; Y/n pays, plops the bag into her basket, and walks off, and he watches her go. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as she weaves her way through the busy market, and there’s a strange sort of finality in the moment where the last inkling of her green jacket disappears.
What if he never sees her again? What if that moment, in that tent, surrounded by fruits honeyed by summer’s warmth and the bitter heartache of something unfinished, constitutes the last fifteen minutes they will ever share?
What if she’s gone from his life forever and he’s damned to an eternity spent looking at her pictures and never hearing her voice again? Wondering what she’s doing and if she’s finally moved on from him?
Can he survive it? Truly? Without feeling like a shell just being shuffled around by the wind?
Returning to the assortment of ruby-toned apples, he struggles to escape the onslaught in his mind and Andrew finds himself unable to choose any, not even one, so he goes with strawberries instead.
To be continued.....
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d0llcuries · 23 days ago
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ICE-CREAM FOR TWO
pairing(s): reiner braun x fem! reader
summary: you hated him for dragging you to marley, for every stolen chance at freedom. you expected the feeling to be mutual as you rented him for four long years but it wasn't. what better way to address this than ice-cream!
author's note: uh, i guess i write for aot now. blame my cousin and her insistence on getting me addicted to this stupid show for the possibility of inaccurate writing. i love reiner pls send requests for aot 🤲🏽
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the market cradled you today in a way almost cruel, with its heat and grit pressing close, air thick with burnt coffee, iron on the breeze, syrupy traces of cotton candy and caramel inviting you into the hic et nunc, although you didn’t want to be. you hated this noise, this heat, the whole crowded mess of voices folding together like waves. you hated how it almost felt like home. you hated how you could almost trick yourself into calling it that if you tried hard enough. a mirror showing something soft, distant, something that could’ve been yours in some other life. no matter how warm the market held you, the truth settled somewhere beneath it all. this land is borrowed, marley is not home, and no amount of rose-tinted glass could change that.
under a washed-out sky, baskets burst with flowers like muted fireworks, children racing in loops, dogs tangled and nipping at their heels. you thought about reiner before you saw him. he was sitting across the square, shoulders hunched as if he were carrying every brick and stone of marley on his back, the same as he’d carried those in paradis. he looked like he was far away, somewhere only he knew how to reach. you still saw that ghost of the soldier you thought he was back then, before everything came apart.
you’d told yourself you wouldn’t go near him, wouldn’t let him know that, after all this time, you’d never quite stopped noticing him. you wonder why you think of him so much, why he takes up all this space in your mind even when he's not near. it was strange how close you were and weren’t, your lives spooled together and then split, moth-eaten like old twine.
but then gabi’s voice broke into your thoughts.
“hey, yn! can you buy us ice cream, please? come on, it’s not far! the ice-cream stand's like.. right around the corner, and i haven’t had any in soooooo long!” gabi stretched out the ‘so long’ ensuring that you felt every inch of the ache that came from a whole season without the taste of frozen sugar. she practically sang, her sticky hand finding yours and pulling before you’d had a chance to respond.
before you knew it, you were standing at the old ice-cream stand, faded to a dull blue, the wood bleached and splintering under too many hot days. the vendor, an older man with sunburned skin and tired eyes, barely lifted his gaze as he rattled off the list of flavors available.
while you hadn’t chosen this home, you chose these people, or maybe they chose you in some inexplciable way. the days of resentment, the times you’d longed to be anywhere but marley, softened over time. gabi, falco, and udo, each of them with their bright, trusting faces had managed to bring out a warmth in you that you’d forgotten was there. you hadn’t planned to love them, but they’d worked their way into the little cracks between loneliness and anger, without effort or warning. it felt like love. you loved them.
“please, please, please?” gabi’s voice tumbled out, each please more insistent than the last. you pressed your lips together, trying to chase away the smile that wanted to break free, but there was no stopping it. the vendor cleared his throat, glancing at the line of customers that was growing behind you, and that pressure paired with gabiʼs nagging commenced the immediate collapse of any resolve you’d held and any remaining choice you had.
“alright, alright,” you murmured. “three, please,” you said, “two caramel swirls… and a chocolate.”
you pull the coins from your purse, and slide them across the vendor’s counter, a quick glance past the crowd where you know reiner’s somewhere out there, not close but close enough. you dig back into your purse, pull out enough for an extra ice cream, and place it on the wood. “and one more, vanilla.”
the vendor didn't blink. he handed you the cones with a practiced indifference, the soft edges already drooping in the heat, melting faster than they should. gabi snatched hers right away, giving a quick “thanks!” but not really looking at you. she didn’t need to, her appreciation was in her wide-eyed grin and the way she immediately started devouring the cone as if she’d waited years for it. udo took his with a quiet “thank you,” glancing at the cone like it was the first good thing he’d seen all day. falco gave a small nod, not meeting your eyes, as if the simple gesture was too much kindness to take all at once.
you glance at the extra cone in your hand, and you think about the boy—no, man—you had brought it for.
your gaze flickered to the square, and there he was, his silhouette made of pale, ghostly gold and all the fragments that cling to it. the blond of his hair catches and curls like a match struck in silence as he rests on the bench with moss staining its feet in a green kiss. “stay close. don't wander off,” you murmur to gabi and the boys, a mother’s instinct in a stranger’s affection. the market seems to swell as faces blur into patches of color and shadow.
usually heʼd be the one buying them the sweets, trailing behind like he belonged to the children, not the other way around. he’d slip coins to the vendor, barely seen, to make sure the kids stayed kids, get them something sweet to carry home sticky on their fingers. his presence made the kids feel safe. that was his gift to them.
he didn’t see you, not at first, lost in whatever he’d wrapped around himself, his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes focused on something far off, his expression pulled into that mask of solemnity that’s so familiar it hurts. there’s a ghost of a frown in his brow from spending too much time thinking about things he didn’t want to think about. it was only when you were close enough that he looked up, startled, it was clear he wasn't expecting to see you. there was a tension in him, he sort of resembled an animal caught between choices, wanting to flee but rooted to the spot.
“i thought you’d want one,” you said, holding the cone out. it wasn’t often that you spoke to him this way, or at all. not about something as simple as ice-cream.
he stared at it first, then up at you. for a heartbeat you thought he might actually refuse it, let the ice-cream coat your hand with melted stickiness just to spite you for they way you resented him for the past four years.
“they give that to you for free?” he said, his eyes drifted somewhere just beyond the market stalls, like he was only half-invested in the jab.
something in his tone snagged, left a thin, invisible cut. he had every reason to say it, you supposed, but it still bruised in a way it shouldn’t. “no,” you shot back, trying not to let his offhand remark knock too hard against the satisfaction you’d felt just moments ago. “i bought it for you.”
with a breath soft as surrender, he looked up at you, and you could feel it, the way he saw you, had always seen you, from the days you were both cadets stumbling through ranks and routines. he’d always thought you were pretty, even when thought you didn't interact often.
the word devil was supposed to define you. reiner was trained to see you that way, to let a thick wall of prejudice stand between you both, forged over years of lessons and oaths. in marley, they pressed that word into people like you, used it to shape you into something repulsive. it was easy to believe it as a child, to see you through the war-stained images they painted, to think of you as something marley’s soldiers had been trained to conquer and devastate. but somehow, that wall never felt as solid with you. he tried to keep it up, you could tell from the way his gaze would shift from warm to cold so quickly, his jaw setting hard as if he was gripping some old lesson, forcing himself to remember why he wasn’t supposed to care. and you hated him for it as much as you didn’t. it was like he had stolen every sense of belonging from you, yet kept a fragile piece of it alive in himself, offering it back in little moments you refused to trust.
he’d always figured he’d have to wait, maybe forever for that forgiveness, if it came at all. for four years, he’d held onto the hope that one day you might look at him without that burning hatred in your eyes. over time, he’d let that hope slip through his fingers, learning to live in the shadow of what he thought he’d ruined.
but now, standing here, he felt something he hadn’t dared to let himself feel in a long time. the way you looked at him was different—not hardened or distant, but softened, like there was warmth in you meant just for him. it was subtle, but it caught him completely off guard, a look that lingered a little too long, the edges softening just enough for him to see something he’d once believed was lost.
he wanted to say something, anything, to reach out, but he found himself rooted, afraid to break whatever delicate understanding hung between you. he’s always been so careful with you, so mindful of your boundaries. your gaze didn’t waver, and he felt it like a quiet ache, as if, finally, there was a chance your view of him had changed.
he took the cone with hands that were larger than you remembered, rough and scarred and cracked in places. in his grasp, the small offering looked absurdly delicate.
“thanks.”
you settle on the edge of the bench beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his skin, but not quite touching.
“you didn’t have to do this,” he said, his voice subdued, as if he was suppressing emotions that he couldn’t articulate.
“i wanted to,” you reply simply, the words soft but steady, a quiet confession hidden in plain sight. it’s not much, just a simple act of kindness, but it feels like more than that, like a tentative step toward something new, something neither of you quite knows how to name.
“i’m not good at this,” he admits after a long pause, the unexpected confession falling between you. he doesn’t look at you, eyes locked on the melting drip tracing a path down his knuckle.
you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “good at what?”
he’s quiet for a moment, so quiet that the hum of the market seems louder, pressing in from all sides. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost hesitant. “being close. to anyone.”
you shift slightly, your knee brushing against his leg. it’s so slight it could be an accident, but it’s not. “well, you’re here now.”
he looks up at you then with an unconcealed reverence that makes your heart lurch in your chest, eyes softening around the edges, holding that mix of confusion and hope that makes him look almost boyish. “yeah, i am.”
the silence stretches, but this time it’s warm, inviting. you can see him wrestling with something, the way his jaw tightens, loosens, the way his thumb traces a line across the wood of the bench as if trying to ground himself.
“it’s strange,” he starts, eyes flickering to yours before darting away again, “this..” he nods to the space inbetween you, “feels like more than i deserve.”
your gaze lingers on him, and you swallow back the pool of savila resting on your tongue. “maybe we’re both not good at this,” you whisper, a shy honesty threading through your voice. “but i think we could be.”
he blinks. “you think so?”
“yeah,” you say, the word barely more than a breath but heavy with everything you mean. “i do.”
and for the first time in years, he lets himself believe it.
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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year ago
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More Dad!Simon "Ghost" Riley and Taskforce Moments With Little Ghost
+ Featuring Los Vaqueros Uncles, Meemaw Laswell (and her wife?), Peepaw Nikolai, Aunty Farah and Uncle Alex
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Did I use the same pictures as I did with the last posts? Yes, because these pictures are so Ghostie coded. Also there's like a slight ✨sprinkle✨ of Angst in there, good luck <3
Tag list: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui HAS THE BEST FREAKING COMMENTARY AND IS SO SWEET, SHE MAKES ME SOUND LIKE I'M SOME AUTHOR WHO WROTE A FAMOUS BOOK, ILY CONNORSUI <3 (ngl, I go back to read her commentary over and over again because if how nice they make me feel 😭)
Pairings: Ghost x Wife!Reader
This is my personal AU, I don't think anyone has written on little Ghostie before I did. Not to say that there aren't any works on Dad!Ghost and his kids however Ghostie is a character of mine who holds such a special place in my heart, especially after I started writing more about her and how she acts around everyone.
Possible ships: Farah x Alex (Faralex)?? Alejandro x Rudy (Alerudy)?? Price x Nikolai (Nikprice)??
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I know Halloween season is over but y'all can't do anything about this, it's been cooking in my brain for a while now. (Some of these are just regular scenarios though) Ghostie is back y'all!!!
❥ Ghostie who simultaneously made her way into convincing the Taskforce to go with her trick or treating, having her little army uniform that was commissioned for her, a bit visible underneath her pink puffy jacket. Yeah I don't think she's going to stop wearing it unless she's outgrown it, in which case, that would just break her big heart :((
❥ Simon holding little Ghostie's hand while she toddles, she would NOT go anywhere without either her dad's, her mum's or her uncle Gaz's hand. Having her tiny chubby fingers gripping onto two of her dad's fingers as he guides her up big steps. Catching her when she accidentally slips on the slippery steps.
❥ The rest of the Taskforce being behind her like a bunch of guard dogs, ain't nobody is gonna try and scare her because of the big burly men next to her. Photo was provided by my favorite artist last Halloween, @puff0o0:
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❥ Ghostie having the sweetest voice ever, she so polite, so much so that she makes the her dad and uncles chuckle at her. (This is how I imagined her voice to sound like)
"Say trick or treat.." Gaz whispers, coaching her from behind as someone from the house opens the door. Two women in costumes, holding a big candy bowl.
"trwick or trweat.." Little Ghostie mumbles, far too shy and almost hiding behind her uncle.
"What a cute costume you have there, here, take these ones" one of the women said, adding the candy to Ghostie's little basket.
"Thank you!" Ghostie exclaims, making the two girls awe at her politeness and eagerness.
❥ Yeah Ghostie definitely pronounces Halloween as "Ha-Hoween".
❥ I can't help but think that they came across that one house with a sign that said "leave your single dad's number if he's attractive" and as a joke, uncle Gaz threw in a piece of paper with peepaw Price's number on it, only to have peepaw Nikolai fish it out of the candy bowl when he thought no one could see him.. but Ghostie did.
Not Halloween related:
❥ Safe to say that when uncle Gaz doesn't like someone, neither does Ghostie, if you all can recall that cutscene from mw3, Gaz did NOT even bother to acknowledge Philip's existence. That being said, Ghostie gives the nastiest side-eyes to him the moment he even opens his mouth. (Yeah she got from her dad)
❥ Ghostie absolutely loves getting head pats and giving them, to her, it's one of the best forms of praise. Anyone gives her head pats gets to witness her absolutely adorable reaction, the way her eyes light up, those little lips curling into a smile causing her chubby cheeks to be prominent and her eyes squinting. Mostly loves doing it to uncle Soap, because the mohawk is fluffy.
❥ Maybe at some point, when Philip decides to behave then he can earn the head pats from Ghostie.
❥ Meals with the Taskforce and Ghostie are a certified hit, she has quite the appetite and she shows it. Simon takes it upon himself to always does what his wife does at home when he's out with Ghostie, bringing her silicone bib and baby utensils. (Even the bulky ass highchair attachment that he keeps in that back of his car/truck)
"More please..." Ghostie says, making grabby hands, in the middle of chewing after observing that her plate is yet again empty.
Price chuckles, looking at Simon who was now careful about the amount of food to add on Ghostie's plate because the toddler is on her third round of food.
❥ Ghostie enjoys clapping her hands and anything as well, especially after eating and being satisfied.
❥ Ghostie is into tea, her dad got her hooked on it.
"Aye, what about you Ghostie? What'd you like?" Soap asks the little one who's currently keeping herself busy with her custom coloring book.
"Tea!" She says, looking up for a bit to Soap before focusing back on her coloring.
"You heard her Johnny, make that two.." Simon says with a pretty firm pat on the back for Soap.
"Fuckin' Brits..."
❥ Auntie Farah and uncle Alex are the babysitters when uncle Gaz, uncle Soap and peepaw Price ain't around. Farah loves that kid to death, if she was being honest, she saw a lot of resemblance between Simon and Ghostie. Of course there are looks were, she's basically a carbon copy of him but also mannerisms;
❥ Ghostie who copies her dad, being adamant about being cleanly and tidy, oftentimes catching people surprised that she tidies up after herself immediately after playing before moving onto another set of toys, coloring books and coloring materials. She notices and mirrors how Simon is consistent in keeping things tidy and out the way.
❥ Whenever Ghostie is at home with her momma (you) and Simon had to run errands, she always wakes up first, seeing how her dad gets up early too.
Ghostie rises up with a soft yawn, rubbing her tiny eyes with her hands, she looked around at the still dimly lit room. She turned her head from side to side looking for her dad.
She was met by him standing and dressing himself up in a black hoodie to go out and buy something. She gives him that cheek to cheek smile before leaning her cheek and closing her eyes, mandatory kiss from dad before he left.
"Alright pumpkin, dada's leaving now. I'll be back later, be good and don't give momma a hard time.." Simon reminded her after giving her cheek a kiss.
"Okay dada- promise.." Ghostie yawns mid sentence.
❥ Ghostie who, ever since she way younger, loved to cup her dad's face and nuzzle her nose into his. A tradition that Simon doesn't know if he's ready to see it go when she grows up. Neither is he ready for her to start correcting the words she's been pronouncing wrong;
❥ Dad!Simon whose heart broke once he realizes that the "I love you"s will slowly start to be less and less when she becomes a teen, he's silently wishing to himself that it won't be reduced to not being said at all. You had to reassure him that it won't happen, not when Ghostie's the sweetest little girl anyone could ask for and Simon is the best dad anyone could as for.
❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Rudy being the seasoned uncles who happened to be absolutely adored by Ghostie, not as much as uncle Gaz but let's be real here, no one is on uncle Gaz's level.
❥ Uncle Alejandro and uncle Soap having bets and arguments on who gets to reach their language to Ghostie while she just sits there on uncle Rudy's lap, sipping on her apple juice, quite entertained.
❥ YOU CANNOT TELL ME THAT RUDY ISN'T RESPONSIBLE FOR GETTING HER TO SLEEP OR NAP, that man is a walking heater. I can just see him standing there while holding her in his arms while she's trying her hardest not to fall asleep, yawning "Uncle Rudy.." before immediately snoring, snuggling her face into his soft blue hoodie shirt. (@icarustypicalfall is living for this, I just know it)
❥ Alejandro who gets smacked in the back of the head by (his husband) Rudy for being too loud and almost waking Ghostie up. (Alerudy when? This is a joke to y'all Alerudy haters, I like the ship, it's cute. Not sure if it's canon here in my AU, up to you guys to decide)
❥ Laswell and her wife absolutely fucking adore Ghostie, shit she makes them want to have kids, she has almost the same effect on almost everyone. Silently making her uncle Gaz wish that he isn't single.
❥ Let's be real here, peepaw Nikolai was the one who Ghostie jammed with while listening to heavy metal. He also got her this mini leather jacket that matched his, with her nationality country/countries flag/s embroidered patch on the side. I can just imagine her little head bangs that peepaw nik taught her 🥺😭.
❥ Also Ghostie has access to almost everyone's prized stuff, uncle Gaz's and peepaw Price's hats, uncle Soap's medals and even peepaw Nik's jacket which looks like she's swimming in it when she's wearing it.
❥ This pic is so Dad!Simon and Ghostie coded:
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❥ Something tells me that Simon would send you this pic and you'd probably have a heart attack, your husband isn't the best driver after all but you trust him since he won't put your daughter in imminent danger.
❥ I think most of the time, Ghostie is in her uncle Gaz's arms and/or lap while he sits on the passenger seat, doesn't really matter who's driving.
My past works on Ghostie, in case you haven't seen the posts before this one on my most favorite mini Ghost:
Little Ghost (Drabble)
TF141 Interacting with Little Ghost Hcs
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This was far longer than I expected, I just love Ghostie so much and I just have a lot to say regarding her.
A/n: This is now an official taglist for most of my generic CoD works, none of these people asked to be tagged on my mediocre content and I understand that, if y'all wanna be removed from the taglist then y'all could tell me privately or on the replies if you guys prefer it :))
Sidenote: Is it normal to be so excited over something you bought? I literally bought my first ever concealer today, a mascara that I've been looking for and lip oil. I was so excited that I squealed when I got home and immediately used them. Any makeup tips that you guys have? Sort of a beginner at this stuff.. Also does anyone whose had viral posts ever feel like their popular strike is over because none of their works get as much attention? Looking at all my recent posts and hyperventilating because the numbers are lower by so much.
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greycaelum · 1 year ago
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Cursedtales Collections—La Luna Chapters: { Trick or Treat }
—Vampire Duke Gojo Satoru X Vampire Reader
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❦︎ Précis:
"You got your cookie. Now I want mine." He drops a butterfly-soft kiss on the hollow of your collarbone before traveling down to your thighs.
❦︎ Genre: vampire, fantasy, royalty
❦︎ WC/CW/TW: (1.2k)/ blood, biting, blood-sucking, Grand Duke being an opportunistic hungry vampire, Grand Duke and his subtle love languages
❦︎ A/N: Don't ask me about Lycan Sukuna's Halloween, I might end up feeding him to the dogs instead—Grey,
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"Trick or Treat?" You crouched down with the chamberkeepers who were busy doing jobs.
"M-My Lady, please, let me get you a chair. No need to crouch down. The soot might get onto you." One of the maids was alarmed seeing you crouch down with them and possibly hurting yourself in any way possible. Who knows if the Master is in a lousy mood and fired them because you got hurt in any way possible? The eldest maid sighed.
"I'm fine, anyway. What's a trick or treat?" You stopped her. Satoru's overprotectiveness of you seems to have rubbed into everyone in the Ducal Palace.
"Oh, it's a human tradition, where kids go around with a basket, asking people..." The younger maid explained to you, and everyone else seems to know such a thing except you, who was once a human.
So here you are, holding a basket, walking over to a particular room at the far end of the East Wing.
It's a strange concept for you. As far as memory goes, you have never left the snowy mountains, and the sight of other humans that wandered through the vast plains of snow is tragically zero until Satoru came. As for His Grace, the chamber keepers already told you he has never once shown interest in such festivities, even when he was a child, so it's unlikely for him even to know such human traditions.
That's quite something Satoru would do. You thought. You can imagine some kid approaching him exclaiming a trick or treat, only to be shot down by his icy glare. You covered your mouth as you chuckled. Indeed, that's something that will happen. However, you're curious about his reaction if it was you.
You knocked, a single and double tune which you have grown accustomed to, and almost everyone knows that tune of knock can only be from you.
You tried to knock a second time, but the door opened, and before you could speak, you were drawn into a tight embrace. A soft sigh lingered in your neck as an arm wrapped around your waist. Perhaps minutes passed or a few more until he spoke.
"Everyone seems to be busy and making a lot of noise. It's making my ears hurt." Satoru pulled you into his office and closed the door. His eyes surveyed you, and you couldn't miss the slight raise of his brow when his eyes landed on the basket in your hand.
"Trick or Treat!" You exclaimed before your mate could speak and pushed the basket towards him.
A poignant pause passed. You couldn't see his reaction because, for some reason, you don't know you closed your eyes.
"... Well, aren't you supposed to open your eyes?"
You looked up to Satoru, a bit embarrassed as you sheepishly laughed and brought the basket back, clutched to your chest. Gosh, you should've known better than to—
You felt the basket sink a little. Satoru retracted his hands and hummed.
"Why did you take the basket back?" He asks.
Inside the basket is a pack of cookies, oddly shaped like a kitten...
You looked up to him in surprise. His Grace shrugged and softly pushed your shoulders to direct you to the couch.
"What's with the surprised face, Kitten?" Satoru chuckles. "Afraid to eat the cookies?"
He's just teasing you. He sat across you, putting the pack of cookies on your palm while taking away the basket and setting it on the table. His hand took your feet, removing your shoes while softly massaging your ankles on his lap.
"So you actually know what a Trick or Treat is, Your Grace."
His Grace incredulously snorted at the remark. He raises a brow at you.
"Do I look that old not to know such childish pranks?"
"Well, you are old!" You giggled as you tried the cookies that tasted divine. Small chirps of delight fluttered from your lips as you made sure not to waste a crumb.
Unfortunately for you, you missed the dangerous glint from His Grace's eyes at the way you bite on that cookie and the way you are unconsciously making those heavenly sighs and munching.
"Oomph!"
The next thing you know is that you're pinned down on the couch. Your mate's breath lingered over your neck while his hand slowly bunched your skirt up to your waist, revealing your supple thighs to his glowing eyes.
"You got your cookie. Now I want mine." He drops a butterfly-soft kiss on the hollow of your collarbone before traveling down to your thighs.
"W-Wait! That's not a cookie!" How could you not ever learn? You gasp, feeling the way his bared fangs drag across your sensitive inner thighs, teasing you with the tingling sensation. Satoru removed his gloves so he could caress the back of your legs, kneading your full, velvety thighs as he nipped and sucked on them until you writhed underneath his touch.
Satoru chuckled and kissed the bite mark from last night that had yet to disappear.
"You are sweeter than any candy..."
"Ngh!"
His sharp fangs sink into your inner thighs. It was mind-numbing how his tongue lapped up any trickle of blood that tried to escape from him. He moaned at how sweet and full your blood tasted on his palate, filling in his greedy thirst as he kept sucking and lapping up in your thighs. The gasps and moans you added were more than enough to entice him even more in teasing you with his soft kisses between his licks.
Through your half-lidded eyes, you could see the grin on His Grace's lips as he licked the last of your blood. His bite mark closed up, leaving but two faint marks of his fangs to remind you how he just enjoyed his treat.
His Grace wipes the droplet of your blood from the corner of his lips and sucks on it one last time before pulling up his clothes, exposing to you his glorious body, rigid muscles, and enticing veins tracing his body hardened by battle scars like art. His thumb softly brushed through your cheeks as you panted sweetly underneath him. He can't help but chuckle and kiss the tip of your nose in silent adoration. His arms flex as he cajoles your tired body to sit on top of his lap.
"C'mere, Kitten, I'll feed you something sweeter."
Needless to say, His Grace has a different kind of Trick or Treat tradition engraved in his mind. Consequently, the chamber keepers got a generous raise after that Halloween season...
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—GreyCaelum,
PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME
Check out more on La Luna Chapters and the Masterlist
All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned, image(s) and song(s) used belong to their respective owner(s).
General & Cursedtales Collection Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @saoney @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @rizzmin @emichou-chan
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vivixivvv · 29 days ago
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𐙚˙✧˖ — candy,candy,candy ! PT 1
going out for halloween/trick or treating || featuring: bachira , shidou , sae || fem!reader ^_^
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you wernt really wnting to go outside for halloween,i mean- it would be so cold and so crowded! but it did mean free candy,and oh boy-…bachira wouldnt even think twice on that! so when he heard that your neighborhood was doing it,he obviously had to visit and spend the night.you guys were sitting in your living room,a show on the tv as you guys looked up inspo for costumes/face painting.after a little,you guys made up your mind and it was perfect for you two.angel and stitch!
since you guys had the onsies from e last movue night,and since you guys didnt buy any specific costume…it was mostly the only choice.and because bachira wanted- no,NEEDED it to match.after a little bit of bickering and dressing up,you guys were pretty much ready.you grabbed your buckets and exited the house,wandering and skipping around the streets.you guys held hands/wrapped arms around another to stay together,going to house to house as you and bachira filled your bucket.
“whatt?! she gave you a whole chocolate bar? so unfairr! give me half when we get home!” bachira whined,looking into your bucket for some suff he was probably gonna steal later. “yeah no,she gave it to me because i look better.” you retorted,having bachira portray a frown.yet it disappeared as you guys walked over to another house,and oh…it were those buckets that said to ‘take only one’ you took one and looked back at the bucket- what? half of the bucket disappeared…then you look besides you.
bachiras wide smile and giggle,and his bucket was almost almost overflowing.oh boy.
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shidou only wanted to go trick or treating for the looks,he only wanted to match costumes and show you off.and maybe for the candy just a little.the day before,you guys were looking up some inspo that would capture both of yoyr guys personalities. in the end,you guys decided to do little red riding hood and the big bad wolf.shidou was the big bad wolf,and you were little red riding hood.
you guys dressed up and got ready,and he even got a mask.you looked in the mirror as you did a little bit of makeup to complete the look,him behind you and clawing his hand and growling(😭🙏) after a little bit of time and getting your buckets ready,you head out.he wraps an arm around your shoulder as you guys walk across the streets,stopping at houses and getting candy.
you guys bickered and laughed as you guys walked around,and you even forced shidou to growl at kids claw his hands again.you guys got a few compliments,as the costume really showed.lets just say,he was proud to spend time with you in cutie costumes and even getting candy out of it.
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sae wasnt the type to really go trick or treating…though he did have a small sweet tooth.either it was the ramune popsicles he enjoyed as a kid,or just subtle fruit candies.but when you asked about halloween and trick or treating,he just shrugged and aaid “we’ll see.” a few days later(a bit before halloween) he tells you you that wyou and him can go out for a little,and to go out early so he has enough time for his beauty rest
you both didnt really do costumes,even though you wanted too..tbut there was just not enough time.but you were able to draw on some whiskers and a nose for a cat,and after enough begging for sae…he allowed you to draw the same aswell.you guys dressed up in black and grabbed your bucket(and sae didnt even bother to get one…as he thinks he wouldnt even eat the candy) you both strolled around and filled up the bucket halfway,untill sae said he was tired and needed to sleep early.
but he let you go on for a little more,as you seemed so happy to do it,even if he was yawning and protesting against your “no lets go back home” (s).he held your hand as your other held the candy bucket,making sure you wont wander without him.but…when he aaid he wouldnt eat the candy/thought it wasnt necessary for him to bring his own basket,he ended up taking just a tad bif of your candies.oh well!
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authors note: guys…i apologize again for not alot of dialogue,esp if thats what you like.i js dont focus on dialogue unless the moment is small,or unless its just one character that i can focus on.again,i apologize😔
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gustavsbrainneuron · 30 days ago
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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The only time I can be normal.
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‎ ‎ ‎ ‎2008 Zombie Bill Kaulitz × female reader.
Warnings: silly & "scary" fic, zombie stuff??...basically Bill becoming friends with reader.
Author's note: I WAS WAITING OCTOBWR TO COME SO I COULD.POST THIS. I. LOVE HALLOWEEN. :3 English is not my first language so i'm sorry if there are any mistakes.
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The leaves crunched with every step you took back, this boy wasn't normal.
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It all started at the beginning of the 31st. You woke up with the arrival of the triumphant day that celebrated the; Halloween. October was your favorite time, perhaps because of the air of mystery that this month gave? To the leaves changing color and falling to the ground, houses decorated with scary things, people arguing about what costume to wear, summer leaving and finally giving way for winter to arrive...all of this was very good for you.
You honestly didn't know what costume to wear for Halloween. Vampires? Classic, who wouldn't want to be a vampire? Sometimes, you even wondered if vampires really existed and on Halloween, perhaps it was the only day they could mingle with humans. Ghost? No. Evil mermaid who probably seduces men and takes them to the sea and kills them? No. A bride who killed her husband and wears a necklace with a reddish stone where his soul is trapped inside for eternity? No. Everything seemed very classic, very normal. But you didn't want to go trick-or-treating without a costume. But who said you hated classic costumes? Without any idea, you dressed up as a witch. Pointed hat, elegant dress with lots of details, a black cape long enough to give a mysterious air, slightly heavy makeup, with black eyelids, very reddish lips. Everything was perfect for Halloween.
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As night arrived, people started to leave their homes, your neighborhood starting to be full of children and teenagers going here and there to ask for sweets. That was your favorite part, getting free candy! Obviously you went to ask for sweets with friends, after all you always had a ritual on Halloween night; separate sweets equally for all your friends.
"How long will you take?? Me and the girls still want to do trick or treat!!" One of your friends yelled, while you were in your room, facing a mirror, fixing your makeup. "Just be patient, okay? I'm sure there's still plenty of candy out there!" You replied back, finishing applying your reddish lipstick, running downstairs, grabbing your pumpkin-shaped basket to go ask for sweets. "I'm ready!!" You said, opening the front door of your house, seeing your friends dressed up, each one more creative than the other. "Woooow, you killed it this year!" One of your friends commented, approaching you to gently run her hand over the black cape you wore, adjusting the fabric. The other friends nodded, observing your costume. "Thanks. You guys don't look too bad either."
And so the night began. Your friends and you walked almost all over the city, looking for sweets. You filled your basket with sweets and so did they! When everyone's basket was full, you decided it was better to stop taking sweets and get to the best part; separate and devour all these sweets!
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Your friends and you walked back to your house and sat on the sidewalk, ready to sort out the sweets and talk, whether it was about some school gossip or songs they were liking at the moment, it was pretty random. Once you shared the sweets equally, you started eating while talking. This time it wasn't about some school gossip or current hit songs. It was something scarier.
"You know, I saw someone talking about seeing a zombie." A friend commented while chewing a chocolate, looking at the asphalt while the wind carried the leaves away. "Zombies? They don't exist. It must just be someone dressed as a zombie." You replied, giving a skeptical laugh, not believing what your friend said. "Yeah, probably." Another friend commented, opening a bag of jelly beans. "No. One of the kids at school said it was true. He said he saw a zombie walking around. A real zombie." Another friend spoke up, believing the rumor. "It's not like this zombie is here to eat specifically our brains. We just shouldn't stay here until it gets late." The friend who wasn't buying into this zombie thing said, a little ironically. "This sounds like a story to make children scared. I don't think there is such a thing as a zombie." You replied, stopping eating sweets, thoughtful about the possibility that perhaps there is an undead among humans. It made you curious, but it was probably a lie.
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As the night approached, your friends left and only you were out there, sitting on the sidewalk, eating sweets. Until a sound caught your attention, a cat's meow. A very loud meow. Cats were you weak point! You got up from the sidewalk, following the meow sound, walking until you stopped in front of a forest. Okay, either you were a dumb horror movie character or you were smart enough not to go into the woods at night. Fuck it - you thought, entering the forest and trying to find where the cat were, finding a white kitten with black spots, which walked up to you and began meowing loudly. Gently, you crouched down to stroke the kitten's head, hearing the cat purr and put its head forward against your hand, responding to your gesture of affection.
Until a sound of footsteps caught your attention, the footsteps came from behind, the dry autumn leaves betraying whoever was walking towards you. Could it be a human or an animal? Hesitantly, you slowly turned your head back and the moonlight illuminated the face of a boy with black, spiky hair, his lower lip area rotten; showing a bit of his dental arch. Scared, you got up and took the kitten in your lap, looking at the boy who was looking back at you. He was about eight steps away from you and even so, he was scary, simply because he didn't say anything. He tried to take a slow step forward, grunting softly almost as if he wanted to say something.
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In fear, you took steps back holding the kitten in your hands as you focused your gaze on that boy. The leaves crunched with every step you took back, that boy wasn't normal. It was then that he took longer steps, approaching you faster; which made you run away without looking back, your body feeling cold from the fear coursing through your veins.
Trying to lose the boy, you ran faster. The kitten meowed loudly, wanting to jump out of your arms, but you held him, wanting to keep him safe. What a stupid idea - you thought, mentally cursing yourself for having entered a forest where you didn't know the way out. You glanced over your shoulder and the boy was still there, running limply, wanting to get closer for some reason you had no idea and didn't want to stop to find out. "W-wait!" The boy grunted in a tired voice, making you unable to understand much of the words that came out of his mouth.
All your despair was interrupted when you tripped, falling to the ground and feeling pain in one of your knees, the kitten ran away from you, while the boy approached you. You were feeling too tired from running and in pain to get up, but you still tried to drag your own body, but that was unsuccessful.
"Are you okay?" The boy's voice asked hoarsely, showing concern, slowly approaching you, making you hear his footsteps getting closer and closer to you. "Please don't eat my brain!" You exclaimed in a desperate voice, trying to get up again; without success.
"Eat your brain?" He repeated his words almost as if he felt offended. "Why do you think that?" He snapped, crossing his arms as he watched your failed attempts to get up. "You literally ran after me like a maniac with that... scary appearance!" You defended yourself, turning your body so that you were on your back, looking in his direction. "Maniac? Spare me. You're a cat thief." He defended himself too. Looking down, you saw the kitten sitting next to him, watching you too. How could someone stop in a situation like that? It was something so awkward that it even made you look away from the cat, looking to the side. "Aha. I know that guilty look." He replied, shaking his head negatively and giving a low laugh, approaching with slow steps again. "It's okay. Let me help you up." He stated, walking over and grabbing your arm. You used the only strength you had to stand up and put your arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry. It's just that I was scared. You don't look normal." You commented, soon regretting your choice of words. "Not that you're any different! It's just that you know? There are scary stories in this time of the month...and I didn't know anyone would be out there at this time of night."
"Scary stories? More like gossip. I know people in this town are talking about me." He said, having the strength to keep me leaning against him despite the rotten appearance. "But I don't want to hurt anyone." He stated, walking with me in a direction of the forest and I only let him because he seemed to know what he was doing. "Have you been around here?" You questioned, wanting to make small talk. "Enough to know where we are and how to get out." He quickly responded, letting out a very low growl. "So you've actually been around here a lot."
An awkward silence stretched between you two and was it really an weird situation, a zombie helping a girl who got hurt trying to escape from him? That was so silly. It looked like something from a romantic, forbidden movie, you know? Embarrassing and funny at the same time. "Name?" He questioned suddenly, walking through the forest where you could already see where the two of you were before you started running. "Y/n. And yours?" You questioned back, letting out a low whimper in pain, maybe you had scraped your knee or something, one of your legs hurt a lot and you were taking crooked steps. "Bill."
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Bill guided you to a square, where the two of you sat on a bench. He looked at your scraped knee and just made a pained expression in response, not knowing exactly how to help. The square was pleasant, especially now that it was empty and everyone was inside their homes, it seemed like only you were there, along with a zombie, really a unique experience.
"Sooo..how did you turn into..this?" You questioned out of nowhere, looking at Bill, talking about his rotten appearance. "A zombie?" He responded with a question, his face showing slight confusion. You just nodded, curious to know where he came from and how he became undead. "I don't know exactly. One day you're dead and the next day you're just alive again." He responded, looking down, speaking in a low voice, almost as if he was embarrassed to talk about it. "I'm not at my best though, well...better than nothing, right?" He spoke rhetorically, giving a weak, sarcastic laugh. "I don't think you're ugly." You replied, looking at him. Okay, you literally ran away from him minutes ago but now, listening to him talking so normally, gave you the feeling that he was a normal, alive boy, despite his rotten appearance. "The first thing you did when you saw me was run." He said, making you quickly respond to him. "It's not every day I encounter a zombie, okay? And I've already apologized."
. . . . . .
"Do you eat brains? Just like in the horror movies?" You questioned, wanting to make the atmosphere less awkward between the two of you. Bill looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing. "It's hard. Sometimes yes and sometimes no. And anyway, I don't look for my food in humans, if that's what you want to know." He responded calmly, wanting to make you more comfortable around him. "Maybe you were cursed by a witch and now you have to be a zombie forever." You commented ironically, giggling and changing the subject as well. "The witch must have been you." He replied, laughing lowly, pointing to your witch costume. You sighed dramatically, placing your hand on your chest gently. "Me?? I wouldn't be that mean. I would do the opposite. I would create a spell to detransform you." He laughed at your dramatic pretense, rolling his blurry white eyes. "Mhm, sure."
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You and Bill ended up talking there in the square, sitting on the bench and, in fact, he was a really nice and interesting boy. The interests you had he had too and it was nice to have someone to talk to about certain topics, even though that person was quite peculiar.
"You know, I'm not that different from you." You said as you looked at the ground, seeing the autumn leaves there, stuck to the slightly damp ground from dawn. "No?" He responded ironically, smiling sideways. "No. My transformation is already beginning." You stated, pointing to your scraped knee, the raw flesh trying to heal. Your response got a laugh out of Bill and his laugh rubbed off on you, making the two of you look like two lunatics laughing in the middle of the square at night - but hey, a zombie friend doesn't seem so bad, right?
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madhatterbri · 10 days ago
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Christmas Shopping | D.P.
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Summary: Damian is overwhelmed and stressed out in a store trying to Christmas shop for his nephew and niece. At his wits end, he asks a woman who happened to enter the aisle he’s in. She takes mercy on him and helps pick out the gifts, and they fall into conversation . He ends up walking through the store with her as she finishes her shopping. As they part, she takes a chance. (Gives him her number/invites him to a Christmas party she’s going to/etc) At the end, he calls/shows up/whatever fits what you go with.
Requested by: @teamchasez
Author's Note: Inspired by what happened with my husband and I. We shop for the less fortunate every year. If you can, please donate to the less fortunate.
Happy Monday Night RAW, babes. ❤️
Damian Priest Masterlist
WWE Masterlist
Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @mrsarcherofinfamy @terrortwinunicorn @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @hotwheels1108 @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @eringobragh420 @missbmc94
As always, requests are open! Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. ❤️
Y/N hummed peacefully as she walked inside a local toy store. She greeted the owner behind the register happily. They had known each other for several years. A loyal patron of his shop, she knew everything in the store like the back of her hand.
"Buying for the toy drive this year?" The old man asked happily.
Y/N broke into a smile. "You know it,"
"Let me know if there is anything you need,"
"Thanks, Jack. Say hello to your wife for me,"
The elderly man told her he would.
The aisles were broken down by different ages, with toys ranging from babies to teenagers. Y/N grabbed a basket and started browsing. A couple of toys caught her eye. They were placed neatly in the basket. It wasn't until she turned to another aisle that she saw a man struggling to pick some toys.
He was muttering under his breath. His phone raised above his body to try to get reception. It appeared he was trying to send a text. A Christmas song started to play over the speakers. He muttered under his breath about the songs.
Y/N let out a giggle. The man turned to her. His tan skinned flushed. Brown eyes stared at her. He apologized to her. She smiled in response and continued to look at the toys on the wooden shelves. After a couple of seconds, he asked her for help.
"I'm sorry, but you seem like you know what you are doing. Would you mind? I've been here for twenty minutes," he questioned.
Y/N smiled. "I'd be happy to. What are their ages?"
He answered with his deep voice. Y/N felt her heart flutter. She caught herself staring at the tattoos on his arms a little longer than appropriate.
"Well, at least you are in the right aisle," she teased playfully. He broke into a smile. Y/N swore she could melt at the very spot. "I don't have any kids of my own, but these things should do the trick,"
She placed the basket on the floor. The man watched as she grabbed some toys for him to choose from. He grabbed the toys from her arms. They seemed like something his niece and nephew would enjoy.
"These are great, thank you. How did you know they would enjoy these?" He asked.
"I've been doing some research. I'm buying for a toy drive," she nudged her head to the basket at her feet. Y/N bent over and picked up the basket once more. "I hope they like them. Merry Christmas,"
"Damian," he introduced himself. "My name is Damian,"
"Nice to meet you, Damian. My name is Y/N,"
Her shopping spree continued, as did their conversation. They opened up about their lives. He was a wrestler. Damian told her he was on television, but she had never seen him before. She told him she'd give it a watch on Monday night.
Y/N noticed he was picking up some extra toys but didn't say anything. On the last aisle, he received a call and stepped away from her to talk.
At the front of the store, Y/N paid for her purchases. She saw the glances Jack made between Damian and her. A blush crept on her face. The two didn't speak of it. Just talked about the events happening around the area.
Y/N paid for her items and went to leave.
"Hey, wait," Damian told her. Jack started to ring up his purchases. The wrestler made sure he rung the other gifts first. "Here are some extra toys for the drive,"
Damian handed her the bags filled with the extra toys he bought.
"Oh, Damian, you didn't have to do that. Thank you," she smiled. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. The children were going to be so happy.
Damian smiled and paid for his purchases. As he was leaving, Y/N knew he had to take a chance with him. He was definitely someone she wanted in her life.
"We are actually doing the toy drive next weekend if you could make it. It's going to be a big event with the firefighters and police officers if you can attend. I know you must be busy with your travels,"
"I'll look at my schedule. Merry Christmas, Y/N,"
"Merry Christmas, Damian,"
Y/N looked at Jack. A blush crept on her face once more. She wished him farewell and a Merry Christmas.
"Apparently, you weren't only shopping for some toys," Jack teased as she left. His laughter sounded into the sidewalk.
The day of the toy drive quickly approached. Y/N parked her car in the parking lot. She hoped Damian would make an appearance. Damian hadn't left her mind for a single second.
Her thoughts and dreams were consumed by him. True to her word, she watched him on his wrestling show. When she saw him topless, she kicked herself for not giving him her number.
"Y/N, Earth to Y/N," her friend called and knocked on her car window. She turned to look at him. He took a step back as she opened her car door.
"What's wrong?" She asked. The worry of someone stealing their gifts overnight nearly made her sick.
"Nothing. There is a man here to see you," he told her.
Her friend moved several steps. A smile immediately broke out on her face. Standing in the distance in all black, the very man that she had hoped to see all week.
Damian.
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