#or at least. like my english teachers growing up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dhiatzs · 3 months ago

Text

A rant about Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger is one of my favorite characters in Arcane. I like his teacher side, his scientist side, his nice and well-meaning side and especially the approach the show gives of his immortality. I also like how his character flaws come and bite him in season 1, leaving him without anything but the promise of worse and better happening in the rest of the story.

A lot of people in the fandom expect him to have a comeuppance because of all his wrongdoings, in season 2. I fully agree with that. I think I will grow bored of Heimerdinger if he doesn't get some character developement and some charges for what he's not been doing this whole time.

However, in some way, I can't help but feel a little skeptical about the way a lot of people in the fandom feel like they straight up hate him. I guess I'll gloss over the arguments. Warning though: I've seen the show only a couple of times, and I am not the most invested in it, so some of my points might not be correct or might miss something. I've also not read many posts about Arcane, and my English is not the best since I'm not a native English speaker. All of these are just some thoughts I have and I try to translate the best I can.

About Ekko being way too nice to Heimerdinger even though he is a councelor and responsible for Zaun's state:

well, that's a mixed bag. On one hand, yes, I think this scene quickly gloss over some coldness and hostility Ekko could have felt towards Heimerdinger. If Ekko acts angry toward Caitlyn in the same episode, why was he so neutral with someone who is in a higher position in the hierarchy? It doesn't make sense, and to be fair I'm not defending that it was not treated in the way I imagined would be the most accurate for Ekko's character.

But at the same time, if you take a look at the whole context, I kinda see where it's coming from.

a/ Right before Ekko is found by Heimerdinger, Ekko had accepted the idea to negociate with the council. Only the fight with Jinx and Marcus' betrayal prevent Caitlyn, Vi and him from doing what they want; everything goes wrong, and it appears Ekko lost everything he tried to accomplish in the last hours. So… why would he consider bad news to meet a councelor, Heimerdinger especially ─ a scientist ─, who is willing to help? In this whole disaster, it is at least something he can take.

b/ Plus, when they meet, Ekko doesn't have a reason to think of the implication. He has to look for a solution, and he has the beginning of a solution with Heimerdinger, a person he didn't have a chance to meet some time ago. So he takes it.

c/ Also, Ekko doesn't have the context a viewer has. Yes, he knows what state Zaun is in, yes the enforcers are his enemies, but if you look at his actions in the course of the season… Ekko doesn't fight against Piltover. He fights against Silco. Ekko saved the people Silco has hurt. Ekko himself says his people were lost "some" to the enforcers, "most" to Silco. He believes Silco to be responsible for Piltover's violence towards Zaun, because to Piltover, Zaun as a whole appears corrupted by Silco. Once again, Ekko doesn't have the big picture.

d/ Since Vi convinced Ekko that Caitlyn is sincere if misguided, and since he accepted from Caitlyn herself that the cycle of violence needs to stop and Piltover and Zaun need to find an agreement, accepting Heimerdinger is quite the logical next step. And sure, it means that Heimerdinger gets a privilege he didn't deserve by actively doing something good himself, but I believe it to be a good start to develop Heimerdinger. If Heimerdinger's ignorance was confronted at the moment he meets Ekko, the development would have been weak and unsatisfying, given the few number of episodes left in season 1 after that. Season 2 has way more time to develop what he did wrong and how he could fix what he did. Plus, and this is my last point with that…

e/ Narratively-wise, putting a confrontation there would have been not only useless, but just a free stomp on Heimerdinger with no possible payoff. Think about it: Heimerdinger has been nothing but powerless during the course of the whole first season. His authority has been direspected times and times again, he's been excluded from the council's plans and agreements, until ultimately being pushed out of the council. Heimerdinger already lost. If there wasn't some positivity with him and Ekko, the end of season 1 would have been depressing to watch; but they're a light of hope, in the end. Sure, it isn't a duo we expected to see, but Arcane doesn't play fair with characters, it just shows the logical course of actions of broken people misunderstanding each other. And I think it's doing a pretty good job at it.

About Heimerdinger not doing anything in two hundred years to realize Zaun's situation and help it:

yes, actually. I agree with this argument, Heimerdinger had numerous occasions to see what was going on, and he didn't take any of them. But where I don't agree with most of the fandom is that this is a part of the character I actually like (given we like the flaws of our favorite characters just as much as their qualities): his heavy, heavy blindspot about Zaun. I think this is the reason why I think Heimerdinger isn't a good person; but to me, it isn't a proof of him being a bad person. It is just the proof of him being extremely coherent.

Also, just like with how Ekko reacts to Heimerdinger, there are so many contextual evidences that makes it make sense.

a/ I feel like there's some kind of math being made in the fandom where Heimerdinger equals Piltover. Which symbolicaly makes a lot of sense: Heimerdinger is this brilliant scientist whose renown you hear about times and times again. Heimerdinger founded Piltover, and the city echoes the character: immortal, wealthy, clean on himself, popular. The relation between Zaun and Piltover echoes the way we know Heimerdinger interacts with people: because of his immortality, the ones who surround him decay, and he outlives them; and he doesn't empathize with them, just like Piltover doesn't empathize with Zaun.

But as a whole, I think Piltover is also Heimerdinger's safety bubble. We know Heimerdinger has seen awful things in his past, and created Piltover firstly to escape the warmongering of mages. Under his watch, progress is made slow and careful. Under his watch, the city is some kind of wealthy peaceful place, where when something bad happens ─ the most minor thing, truly; say, a bunch of teenagers from the Undercity stealing from an Academy student ─ someone must pay. Heimerdinger is seen enjoying celebrations, concert, wonders of this kind. Heimerdinger behaves like a child in a world where he made sure any disturbance is avoided for him. His fluffy cute design and his happy-go-lucky nature are just further proof of this. We could argue that all of this is a logical reason on its own why Heimerdinger doesn't try and help Zaun: he cares about Piltover, and Piltover first. None of these things are a bad thing in themselves, but it becomes bad when you realize everything that flows from it.

b/ To support this point, one interesting thing about Heimerdinger is his ego. He sees himself as an authority figure, someone reliable ─ a teacher, even! He is wise, he is old, he keep things stable. Piltover is a city shining with pride and privilege (no pun intended). None of this leaves a door open to change. Which is pretty ironic, right? Because science should be about change, but Heimerdinger isn't. Because of his immortality, he must be a moral backbone, he must not lose his way. And since what he's been has been serving Piltover for two hundred years now, you can't make him change his mind. He's a stubborn creature, but truly, is there any character who can fully get where he is coming from? I find this awfully interesting that what he lacks is a person in the same position as him. Because the only person he can respect in this context is himself, even though it leads to permanent self-satisfaction. A permanent feeling of thinking you know better, when you actually… don't. But who could prove that?

c/ I think Piltover's council has to be mentioned. The council is made of seven people and Heimerdinger is only one of these people. This oligarchy has been present for generations; the principle allows every case presented to be examined through several nuances, which leads to debates and votes. Its core definition prevents tyrannical decisions. Sure, corruption within can lead to this instance being actually a disguised despotism… the irony is that corruption indeed runs through the council, but Heimerdinger isn't a part of it and isn't aware of it. And you can guess that since Heimerdinger is the founder of Piltover and is a part of said council, it means that he accepted the suggestion of an oligarchy. The people in the council have interests in mind that aren't purely about science: economy, politics, business… all logical angles to use to take care of a city whose importance is known across the world. Heimerdinger is described as having his only experience be science. So Zaun's situation hasn't been fixed by Heimerdinger, sure… but not by the council either. Their failure to consider Zaun's situation is even discussed in episode 4; Caitlyn's mother even argues that the Undercity can't be controlled. Plus, Marcus hide a lot of crucial information from the council, because he has to accept Silco's conditions in order not to compromise himself. The council thinks that Zaun's situation is being handled thanks to the enforcers.

And at the same time, there is such a complacency in the concept of a council made with privileged families. It is formed with elites, and this elites have an elitist view about politics, which would be better considered with a sociological approach. But this is simply the extension of Heimerdinger's wish to keep everything safe and sanitized for himself and the city. A logical outcome, which actually makes everything Heimerdinger's fault, but at the same time, which makes it logical he doesn't realize it.

This kind of is the whole point of Heimerdinger's character, isn't it…? Everything he does is flawed because he fails to see past his fears.

To conclude this (already too long) post, one thing I haven't mentioned is that I think what leads people to dislike Heimerdinger as a whole is ambiguity. The fact that we don't know yet if the writers are aware that Heimerdinger isn't a perfect person; the fact that he has such a nice presentation which distract people from the fact he's not reliable nor doing as well as you could think. The fact that all the ways in which he means well are not enough to repair what he has failed to accomplish. The fact that he is presented as a solution while being one of the cores of the problem at the same time. Believe me, like I said, I want him to get a comeuppance. But I think his flaws are as likeable as the web of flaws linking every character of this show to the others.

72 notes · View notes

thisismeracing · 11 months ago

Text

Literature lovers | CS55 (patreon exclusive)

read the full piece here

― Pairing: Professor!Sainz x TA!reader (she/her) ― Warning: implied age gap (reader is in her mid-twenties, Carlos in his mid-thirties); mentions of food and alcohol; graphic description of sex (p in v, oral –fem receiving, dirty talk); Use of Cassio Sanchez instead of Carlos Sainz for known reasons. (5.1k words) ― Summary: One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”, deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you. Of course, it was dangerous grounds, but things clicked, and as he said so himself, destiny guided you together.

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Growing up, you always heard about how you had to be the best, had to run twice as fast as others, train more, and still hear how lucky you were. It was something that tired you once college came around. Yet, it was almost like second nature to you, doing things as close to perfection as possible. That’s how you ended up getting into your master's right after graduating, that’s how you turned out being a teacher’s assistant to one of the most famous professors on campus, and coming to think about it, you guess that’s how he ended up recommending you to everyone.

That’s the reason he recommended you to Carlos Sainz, the Spanish Literature professor.

Your professor, English literature specialist, George Russell, was a posh Englishman who would occasionally forget some of his materials and schedules, always having a book on his nose and talking about it. You and he hit it off quickly. You were his favorite student, and when you became his assistant, he was even happier because you were just so organized, and punctual.

When George told you he was “lending” your teacher’s assistant’s services to another professor, because he was off, and his colleague had a few conferences that month, besides taking over his classes, you accepted. George knew you loved Spanish language literature, and he knew you and Carlos would work well together. At least that’s what he told you before sending you Carlos' work e-mail and handing you a copy of the uncensored version of The Picture of Dorian Gray, a book you had been trying to get for months but hadn’t been able to find that particular edition.

While setting some of your things for the first day with Carlos, you stared at his e-mail for the hundredth time. You didn’t know him. Your Spanish Literature classes were all completed during an exchange in Colombia, and the University was big enough for you not to know every professor by name or face.

Still, you took a deep breath and wrote an e-mail to Professor Sainz about some of your ideas for the upcoming semester, well aware that you had accepted the role and you would make it work. You liked to think that you could have denied George's request and could have told him about a personal project you’ve been working on, but you said yes.

One of your favorite writers once said that “destiny guides our fortunes more favorably than we could have expected”. Deep down you knew he was right, but you had never given it too much thought. Well, at least not until you heard the Spanish Literature professor say those words looking at you.

***

He keeps his eyes on your face, and you smile after swallowing a bite and finally opening yours.

“I take it, you liked the dish?” His amused, yet provocative tone made you shiver the slightest.

“It’s perfect, Carlos. Now I’m feeling bad I bought a cake from a bakery, instead of making our dessert myself,” you complained, taking another bite. Carlos caught the joke in your tone and smirked, eyes finally wandering down your body, or what the table lets his big brown orbs see.

The V-neck dress was not scandalous per se, it has sleeves that go to your wrists, and it’s not form-fitting, but rather loose around your body. It showed the right amount of skin. And Carlos couldn’t have loved your choice more.

His eyes found yours after a few seconds, it’s almost like he’s making sure you’re comfortable with his gaze, and the way you lean slightly on the table giving him the perfect view is answer enough.

“Don’t worry about dessert, you know we have it covered.”

“Do we?” You add to the tension, and Carlos chuckles.

“Oh, we sure do,” he nods, taking a sip of his wine. “In fact, how do you feel about skipping the whole meal and going straight to dessert?”

“It sure sounds tempting.”

“Do you want it?”

He was still sitting and hadn’t made any move indicating he was about to go your way. You knew this game you were playing and knew that the way he was throwing the questions your way was Carlos studying you, making sure you were comfortable with the outcome. He wanted you to be comfortable. He always wants it, and you can tell from the small details.

No pressure.

Never pressure.

He wanted you to want him.

And oh, how you do!

“I want it.”

He smirked. You heard the scrape of the chair against the wooden floor and watched as he walked barefoot to you. The first few buttons of his white button-up were undone showing you his tan skin where a few dark strands of hair peek out on what you can tell was a remarkably toned body.

Carlos pushed your chair back, turning it to him. He parted your thighs the best he could with your dress and kneeled between your legs. From this angle, he looked even hotter.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, honeybees! I hope you guys liked this sneak peek! This piece has been on Patreon since last month, but I forgot to add the sneak peek here hihi <3 I wanted to write for Professor!Sainz for a while now, and finally found the inspo to finish this piece, and the time to finish editing the last details. A huge shout-out to C (my coffee emoji anon) and Dee (@struggling-with-delia) for proofreading this, and to K (@dancininseptember) for suggesting the TA!reader when I posted about writing this (Ily, guys!).

If you liked this sneak peek and want access to the exclusive content, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @leclercsluv @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr @is-just-a @love4lando @woozarts @namgification @formulaal @benstormy

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

#op: patreon exclusive #op: patreon preview #f1 patreon #cs55 #millie writes smut #carlos sainz smut #f1 smut #f1 2024 #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #f1 fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #professor!sainz #f1 fandom #formula one fanfic #formula one smut

189 notes · View notes

darkeralmond · 2 years ago

Note

ok hear me out, a Jack Hughes smut where they’ve been together for 2 years and his mom finally lets reader stay over but it ends in smut in their basement 👀👀 maybe their like 18? whatever you’re comfortable with 🫶🏼

I AM HEARING U OUT SO HARD!! TY FOR THE REQUEST ILY!! ❤️❤️

Plans & Rewards

Jack Hughes x fem! reader

synopsis: jack and you have been dating since sophomore year and you haven’t been over to his house in the 2 years you’ve been dating. his mom finally lets you come over for dinner and you two get freaky in the basement.

warnings: 18+, smut, oral sex (m! & f! receiving), slight hair pulling, small dirty talk, jack being a horny devil

word count: 2.5k

a/n: i’m so happy about this little high school au i have going on! it’s so fun to write and is just overall entertaining for me!!

masterlist | request info

It’s been 2 years since you first started dating Jack. It all started sophomore year when your English teacher decided to pair you two up for a project. You ended up growing a big crush on him and he asked you out.

It was the last day of sophomore year and you decided to stay after class to talk to her one last time before summer break. “So, why did you pair Jack and I up?” you asked out of pure curiosity.

“Well, Y/N, I knew Jack had a little thing for you,” she said with a grin on her face.

You giggled, your cheeks flushing red. “How?”

She clasped her hands together and leaned forward onto her desk. “Because teachers know their students, sweetie. Trust me, you’ll be together for a long time. I just know it.”

She was right, they do know their students and you two did stay together for a long time.

Now, it was senior year and your relationship was more than perfect. The one problem was that you’ve never once been to his house. It’s not that they didn’t trust you, it’s that they didn’t trust their son.

They believed he would lose his control and get you pregnant right under the roof of their home. A baby was far from what Jack wanted, for now at least. What they were right about was Jack wanting to hook up.

You guys have had sex already. Whether it be at your house, in his car, or just at parties. Not to mention how much of a dirty texter he was. He was a horny devil, and you loved it.

You were laying in bed finishing up your AP Dual Credit work when you heard your phone suddenly ring. You grabbed it and saw it was a call from Jack. Your smile grew wide as you answered the call. “Hey, baby!”

“Hey!” You could tell he was smiling through the sound of his voice. “I was just calling to let you know that my mom is chill with you staying over for dinner tomorrow night. Are you free?”

You gasped as the smile on your face grew incredibly wide. “Of course I’m free! What time?”

“Around 7, but I’ll pick you up, don’t worry,” he answered. The sound of care in his voice caused butterflies to swarm your stomach.

You nodded your head, “Perfect!” You listened to him laugh on the other line. “I’ve got some work to finish but I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Okay, I love you,” he said.

“I love you too, baby. Bye!” You then hung up the phone and grabbed one of your pillows. You screamed out of excitement and started kicking your feet. You were finally going to have dinner with his parents!

You loved his mom, she was the sweetest person in the world. Jack did something to win over her trust and you were thankful for that.

You walked out of the front door and made your way out to his car which was pulled into your driveway. Your parents weren’t home, but they knew you were going out.

You got into the passenger side and looked over at him. “Hi,” you said. You were wearing a nice red dress and some nice sandals that you had stolen from your mom.

“Hey,” he replied before you two kissed briefly. “You look beautiful as always.”

You shut the car door and giggled, “Well, I need to dress and impress.” He nodded his head in response before pulling out of your house.

The closer you got to his house, the more anxious you got about the dinner. You didn’t have a specific reason, you only had a feeling of worry.

Jack stopped at a red light, looking over at you. He could read you like an open book which meant he could see how stressed you were. “Baby,” he spoke in a low voice and reached out for your hand, giving it a small squeeze. “They like you, you know this.”

You nodded your head. He wouldn’t lie to you, you knew this. “Yeah, I know. I’m just a little nervous,” you confessed, following it up with a nervous giggle.

“I get that,” he said. He then let go of your hand and began driving again when the light turned green. “But I'll be there next to you the whole time.” That made you feel a bit better. What were you so worked up over anyway?

You took a deep breath and got rid of all those nervous jitters. “Plus, I have a plan for us tonight which involves us in the basement.” He glanced over at you and winked. You knew exactly what that plan was just by the look in his eyes, and you weren’t opposed to it at all.

Dinner was good. His mom made cajun pasta which was absolutely divine. His younger brother, Luke, was there at the table with you guys at dinner, obviously playing as the annoying younger brother like usual. You’ve never thought he was annoying though, he was sweet. Jack thought the complete opposite though.

You offered to help Jack and Luke clean up the kitchen after dinner. “Now, you don’t have to do that, dear. You stay right there. You want more to drink?” His mother, Ellen, asked you.

You shook your head and looked over at Jack. “Actually, mom? Is it fine that Y/N and I head down to the basement? I want us to watch a movie.” He glanced down at you then up at his mom again.

She glanced down at you then up and Jack then at her husband then at Jack again. He had a completely innocent look on his face, which was impressive from a guy who just admitted to you an hour prior that he had a plan in that same basement.

After an intense stare down between him and his mom, she finally gave up. “Sure, honey. Netflix and stuff is set up down there,” she sighed.

He smiled widely, “Thanks, mom. I love you.” He looked over at you and winked before heading off to the kitchen to finish up cleaning the dishes with Luke. You giggled as you looked back ahead at his parents.

After a bit of his parents playing 20 questions about your academics and dream colleges, Jack came back to save you. “Alright, we’re heading down now.” He placed his hands on the back of your chair, pulling it out for you to get up.

“Alright,” she smiled before looking up at Jack with a stern expression. “Behave.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled a bit.

You got out of the chair and Jack led you to the basement. Jack let you enter the basement first, you gave him a smile in response. “So, are we really gonna watch a movie?” you asked when he shut the basement door, your eyebrows raised.

He scoffed, “God, no. We can have it on in the background so they don’t hear us.” He grabbed your hand and led you down to the basement area. It was huge and looked like an amazing hang out spot.

“This is nice!” you said, looking around at all the stuff the basement had to offer. There was a large TV with a really large couch facing it, a pool table, an air hockey table, and a mini fridge. “Do you throw parties down here or some shit like that?”

He laughed, “Luke uses it more than Quinn and I do, but pretty much.” He sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote. You sat next to him and waited for him to pull up Netflix. “What should we watch?” He put the word “watch” in quotes.

“Uh,” you hummed in though while looking at all the movies. “Put on like… a rom com or something?” You knew you weren’t going to be paying attention to the movie, but it just seemed the most fitting for whatever sexual thing that was about to happen.

He threw on a random rom com and turned it up a little bit. It was loud enough to mask our voices, not unless you two shouted… or moaned too loud.

He looked over at you and smirked, he glanced down at your lips before kissing you. Your eyes shut as your hands found their way onto the sides of his face. You fixed your position to where it was more comfortable.

His hands ventured down to your waist as he leaned back, making you lay on top of him. You shifted your position again, straddling on top of his lap. He kissed deeper, causing you to moan quietly.

When you finally pulled away, you gasped for air and looked down at him. The smirk never left his features and he looked extremely proud of himself for even managing to get you two down here.

“So,” you cooed. You had a coy expression wiped across your features. “What do you want to do with me?” You were intrigued with whatever plan he had rolled up his sleeve.

“How about I… go down at you? If you can stay quiet.” His words caused your cheeks to burn red and you nodded yes quickly.

You off of him and sat back down on the couch normally. He got off the couch and positioned himself on his knees right in front of you. You helped him pull off your panties and you rolled up the bottom half of your dress, helping him have better access before letting him take control of everything else.

He spread your legs open and wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place. He dipped his tongue inside you, swirling it around before sucking gently on your clit. You were sensitive to the feel of his mouth, your head tilting back as you let out a quiet moan.

He flicked his tongue against your clit, causing the muscles in your thighs to jolt, his arms still able to hold you down.

He took long strokes with his tongue in between your folds until you started to feel yourself tightening. He took an extra slow lick before playing with your clit with his tongue once more.

As your legs continued to shake as the knot in your core grew stronger. “Jack,” you purred. “Go faster. Please!” The knot in your belly was getting tighter by the second.

Your heart rate was starting to pick up along with your sex drive. Your breaths became heavier and more hitched as pleasure pulsed through your body.

His tongue flicked once more, swirling around your swollen bead. His tongue worked its magic and he could tell how much it was satisfying you. You were going to cum any minute now.

He pulled his face out from between your legs and inserted his middle and ring fingers inside you. He pumped them in and out of you slowly, moving them in circles around your hole while his mouth went back to pleasing your clit.

Your breathing hitched and you arched your back, pressing your hips closer to his mouth as your hands dug into his hair. His lips were busy sucking you, and you felt like you were gonna die.

You tried to take deep breaths but your mind was focused only on his mouth sucking you off. “Please, fuck!” you begged. “Don’t stop.”

His fingers sped up a bit as his mouth kept working you off. You came undone with a moderately loud cry as your whole body shivered from the pleasure.

Your walls contracted around his fingers covering them in your juices. As your muscles relaxed, he pulled his fingers out of you and licked the taste of you off his lips. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he muttered before he came back up to kiss you on the lips.

You tasted the mix of his saliva and your fluid as you kissed him. You pulled away and tucked a couple strands of hair behind your ear. Suddenly, you got a wild idea.

“Now,” you said. “I want to reward you for being such a good boyfriend.” He looked like a dog hearing the word “treat”, his head tilted to the side while a wild eye expression spread across his features. “Take a seat.” You patted the spot next to you.

He sat down, oblivious to the idea in your head. You scooted closer to him and pulled back your hair into a ponytail. You unzipped his pants before pulling down his boxers just enough to reveal his dick.

His breath got caught in his throat at the sudden feeling of your hands on his dick. You lowered your mouth into Jack’s shaft, licking at his slit.

He let out a shaky breath as he shuddered. “Fuck,” he groaned, leaning his head back. Your tongue lapped around his tip before you took all of him in your mouth.

You alternated from sucking him off and licking the head of his penis for a few minutes. He was obviously enjoying it since he kept moving his hips off the couch in order to thrust into your mouth. His hand ran through your hair while you sucked him off.

“Y/n…” he groaned, watching your head bob as you continued to blow him. “Your mouth feels fucking amazing…” His praises kept you turned on as the desire of making him feel good was your main goal.

You were able to taste the precum off his tip before he finally came undone. “Shit, I’m gonna cum!” he groaned loudly before he shot a load in your mouth.

You pulled away from his dick after that, wiping the mix of drool and semen off your chin. It was too much for you to swallow so you found the closest tissue box and grabbed a couple tissues to spit into.

You looked back over to Jack while wiping the rest of his mess off your face. He was still sitting there panting, staring at you with a look of satisfaction swept onto his face. “God, you really know how to work that mouth of yours.”

You chuckled softly before looking back at the TV. You could tell he was done by the way he covered his dick with his boxers before zipping his pants back up. You were pretty exhausted yourself, so you grabbed your panties and slid them back on

“You wanna rewind the movie and actually watch it? It kinda looks good.” You sat back down next to him and scoot in close before placing your head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around you, holding you even closer before answering. “Yeah, sure,” he said before he grabbed the remote and rewinded the movie all the a way to the beginning.

The rest of the night was spent with you and Jack cuddled up on the couch watching this rom com you had forgotten the name of before you eventually fell asleep.

His mother came down to check on you guys, seeing that it was just you and Jack on the couch with no funny business going on. She then crept back upstairs, leaving you two alone again.

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes smut #apricot’s highschool au 🏫

704 notes · View notes

marauding-almond · 16 days ago

Text

I have been absolutely OBSESSED with the thought of kiwi Remus recently because it works so well and i cannot get it out of my head, so here are a bunch of headcannons (part one- I have too many thoughts to put them in one single post)

Lyall and Hope met in London, Lyall was Welsh and Hope was kiwi

Hope gets pregnant and Lyall doesn't want to be a father, so they break up

Hope goes back to New Zealand and Remus is born there

Remus grows up in a small town in the South Island, I'm thinking Dunedin, or perhaps Wānaka (mayyybe Invercargill)

He grows up with his mom in a small house on a hill looking out to the water, a little on the outskirts of the town

Remus is still a werewolf; he gets bitten by an rogue werewolf on night when he's around three or four, but Hope manages to deal with it

She locks him in the back shed for the full moons, but as soon as dawn awakes, she's there with bandages and chocolate fish and hugs

It's hard, especially the first one, but they manage it, and Hope makes sure that Remus knows he's not a monster and still very loved

And the worst that happens the neighbours occasionally mention the wolf howls once or twice

Their neighbours, a middle-aged couple with no children, love them, especially Remus

They always give him a slice of cake when he comes round, and Hope a basket of cherries or something

They have a few sheep, and Remus loves going there and helping with the lambs, running with them in the paddock

He's a classic kiwi kid, spends almost all of his time outside, climbing trees and running barefoot, large rimmed hats, shorts all year round, constantly kicking off his shoes, always a bit of a burn on his cheeks because he's always forgetting to put on sunscreen (despite his mum's best efforts)

He takes the bus every morning to get to the local school

The school's only got a couple dozen kids, but the teachers are nice and Remus likes it, he loves learning, loves reading, especially

He's a quiet kid, doesn't have that many friends, but he's happy to just climb up a tree and sit there with a book

Hope is a bit of a hippie, and she goes round a lot of protests for Māori rights, queer rights, etc

The locals don't love it (it's the 60s), but she just rolls with it

She makes sure to teach Remus fragments of Māori, as much as she knows, which isn't much, but it's something

She can also see that her son's queer, even before he tells her, and makes sure to let him know that queer people are perfectly fine, and that she loves him

She struggles a bit financially, working at the local dairy and not earning all that much, but she grows a veggie garden and makes it work

And every summer, she makes sure to take at least two weeks off work and the two of them go off in their dingy caravan, put the Beatles on the radio, drive for a while and settle in some place to camp

They go walking and swimming and just enjoy nature for two weeks, every summer

Remus absolutely loves it, he'll go swimming every day, even if it's cold and raining

Hope also passes on to Remus her love of birds, teaching his all the native one's names, in English and Māori, as well as he love for baking, spending hours in the kitchen together making cakes and muffins and biscuits

And Remus is very happy and Hope is very happy

#ahhhhh yeah anyways i love them #so much #hope and remus having a good relationship is so important to me #and kiwi remus just works so well #remus lupin #hope lupin #remus john lupin #the marauders era #marauders era #the marauders #marauders #kiwi remus #kiwi remus lupin #new zealander remus lupin #kiwi hope lupin

34 notes · View notes

poiibbtt · 4 months ago

Text

A Little Bit Like Forever

Pairing: Dokyeom x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Friends-to-Lovers, High School Romance

Word Count: ~4,500

Synopsis: Middle school chaos, high school awkwardness, and a love hidden beneath playful teasing. From sneaky stolen bags to whispered confessions in a dim classroom, you and Dokyeom were always a little bit of everything—until prom night, where a few photobooth pictures capture the moment when "just friends" becomes something a little bit like forever.

A/N: Hi, I'm new here! I really hope you enjoy this fluffy Dokyeom (aka Dikeyyy) fanfic. My English might not be the best, but I put all my heart into this story! Let me know what you think, and thank you for reading! 🖤

Middle school was weird, but somehow, it was fun. Sitting in the middle of two boys, Dino on the left and Dokyeom on the right, felt like a tiny pocket of chaos that made you forget how awkward everything else was. You weren't close with anyone else in that class, but with Dino and Dokyeom, it felt like… a compromise. You let them doodle on your hands—swirls, random lines, some silly drawings—because, well, what else was there to do?

“Stop moving,” Dokyeom said one day, drawing some weird stick figure on your wrist. You laughed.

“Why? You trying to make me look cooler?” you joked, raising an eyebrow.

“Pffft,” Dino added with a smirk. “Cooler? Sure, if you want to look like a walking art project from a 5-year-old.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, Dino, so supportive. Love that for me.”

But as fun as it was, things changed. Dino’s girlfriend, Mindy, didn’t exactly love your dynamic. She got jealous—angrily-so. Once she threw a fit so loud, half the school knew about it, and suddenly, everything felt off. When the seating arrangement changed, you were left out. Dino and Dokyeom hung out with the boys, and you… well, you made new friends, but group projects felt lonelier. Everyone paired up with their besties, and the boys? They didn’t choose you anymore. It stung more than you’d like to admit. You wondered if you were the only one who thought those days sitting together were special.

High school started, and Dino moved to China. It was just you and Dokyeom again, but this time, he sat behind you. You had Wonnie now, your partner-in-crime. Life seemed less lonely, at least until Dokyeom decided to continue being his usual playful self.

One day, you noticed your bag had mysteriously disappeared after class.

“Has anyone seen my bag?” you called out, frantically searching the classroom. A chorus of chuckles erupted from the back.

You glanced at Dokyeom, and there it was—his trademark smug grin.

“Okay, where’s my bag, Dokyeom?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I don’t know, Y/N,” he said, shrugging innocently. But his smile said otherwise.

The boys were still laughing, and as soon as you found your bag tucked behind the locker, you stormed back toward Dokyeom. Without hesitation, you wrapped your hands around his neck, mock-choking him.

“You think this is funny?” you grumbled, tightening your playful grip.

He didn’t flinch. In fact, he just placed his hand over yours, his smile growing wider. “You really think you’re scary?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Get out of here, dork.”

Then, it began: the daily texts from Dokyeom. At first, it was harmless. “Do we have any homework?” or “What was the page number for that assignment?” Simple stuff. You replied because you figured he was just lazy.

Until one day, during a quiz, his teammate Mingyu—a giant compared to the rest of the team—walked by your class. As the room fell into a sudden silence, he called out, “DOKYEOM!” and then, without skipping a beat, added, “Y/N! He likes you!”

Twice. He repeated it twice, just to make sure the message landed.

Your class? Dead silent. The teacher? Silent. Everyone? Absolutely, painfully silent. You were pretty sure time stopped. As your heart raced, you pretended like you hadn’t heard a thing. You passed the quiz sheets to the back like nothing happened, handing them to Dokyeom who sat there, not breathing, waiting for your reaction.

You didn’t give him one. Instead, you turned and asked, “Got the cells labeled yet?”

The entire room seemed to exhale at once, and time started moving again.

Later, you whispered to yourself, “I’m going to kill Mingyu when I see him.”

After that, things shifted. Dokyeom started texting you every day—not just about homework, but everything. From stories about Seungkwan hogging the bathroom to watch streamers, to Minghao pulling off ridiculous thirst traps for TikTok.

“And guess what Seungkwan did today?” Dokyeom messaged you one night.

You rolled your eyes but smiled at your phone. “What now?”

“He almost flooded the place because he was too busy watching Mobile Legends. And now everyone has to take shorter showers. Mingyu’s so mad, it’s hilarious.”

“You guys live like frat boys, I swear.”

Somehow, the messages made you feel… closer. And then, Dokyeom brought up middle school.

“Remember how Dino and I used to draw on your hand?” he asked one night.

“Yeah,” you typed back. “I figured it was just to pass the time.”

“Nah, we actually liked sitting with you.”

You paused, reading that over again. So, it wasn’t just you. The memories weren’t one-sided.

But the more you started to realize that you might like him, the harder it became to talk to him. You’d freeze up, getting tongue-tied whenever he was around. Dokyeom, on the other hand, seemed to hover around you more. Every time you looked up, he was already watching you, his eyes catching yours before you could look away.

Wonnie noticed, of course. “You two are ridiculous,” she teased, nudging you one day.

“What?” you replied, cheeks reddening.

“Don’t ‘what’ me. He’s literally attached to you at the hip.”

As if on cue, Dokyeom appeared at your table during a group project, not even in your group, just… there.

You glared at him. “Don’t you have work to do with your own group?”

“I’m more interested in what you’re doing,” he said, sliding into a seat next to you.

You groaned internally, but secretly? You liked the attention.

One afternoon, during a free class when everyone else was napping, Dokyeom found you. The classroom was dim, curtains drawn, and the soft hum of air conditioning filled the air. He sat beside you, closer than usual, and playfully took your hand in his.

“Your hand’s so small,” he mused, gently tracing your fingers with his. His lashes fluttered as he glanced down, and you found yourself holding your breath.

Your heart thudded in your chest, and you couldn’t help but think how close he was. So close that you could see the faint flecks of gold in his eyes. So close that… your thoughts scattered when his thumb brushed your palm.

“Is this weird?” he asked quietly.

You shook your head, but your voice didn’t seem to work, so you just sat there, hearts beating loudly in the stillness.

Another day, you walked into school, your stomach aching slightly, probably from the nerves. You passed by Dokyeom, who was sitting on the stairs with Soonyoung and Woozi. As soon as he saw you, he stood up, ditching his friends to walk alongside you.

“Not waiting for them?” you asked, tilting your head curiously.

“Nah,” Dokyeom said, his lips curling into that sheepish smile. “Only waiting for you.”

You tried to hide your blush, especially when Irene, one of the basketball girls, spotted the two of you together. She smirked, as if she’d seen something juicy that would spread like wildfire through the school.

But in that moment, it didn’t matter. Dokyeom walked you to class, and you two chatted like the world outside didn’t exist.

Then came the teasing—especially from Dokyeom’s coach during basketball practice.

“Y/N, you’ve got Dokyeom all flustered these days,” the coach teased, his eyes glinting with amusement. Your face burned red as you tried to smile through it.

When you passed the gym one afternoon on your way home, the boys started calling out, “Dokyeom, Dokyeom!” You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help the giddy feeling rising in your chest.

Later that night, Dokyeom messaged you, “Are you okay?”

You laughed, replying, “Mingyu needs to shut his mouth.”

As time went on, Dokyeom kept showing up—whether it was asking you to watch his games or just hanging around with you, Wonnie, and the others. One time, after begging you a million times to come watch a competition, you finally caved. Wonnie and Lisa came along for moral support (and for Lisa to cheer for her own basketball game).

The competition started, and Dokyeom—usually so confident on the court—was… off.

“Why does he look so nervous?” Lisa whispered to you.

“I have no idea,” you whispered back, watching him stumble over a pass.

When the game ended and it was time to go, you waved goodbye to him from the stands. “Good luck, Dokyeom!” you called out, and he waved back, giving you that shy smile that always made your heart skip a beat.

Lisa nudged you. “He was totally off his game because you were here.”

You grinned. “He’ll never admit it.”

Day by day, the countdown to graduation passed like a blur of final exams, senior pranks, and long talks about the future. And then, suddenly, it was prom night.

You were partnered with Dokyeom as prom dates, which everyone saw coming a mile away—even though he’d asked with that awkward, shy smile he’d never quite outgrown. The night of prom, you found yourself in a sleek black dress, feeling confident but nervous. When Dokyeom arrived to pick you up, the sight of him in a black suit was enough to make your heart skip. He looked so handsome—too handsome, honestly.

But if you thought you were nervous, Dokyeom was a whole other level. He could barely look you in the eyes when you walked out.

"You… uh… look great," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes darted everywhere except at you. His cheeks were flushed, and you could barely suppress a smile.

"You look pretty good yourself, Dokyeom," you teased, but that only made him turn even redder.

Prom was everything it was supposed to be—music, dancing, and laughter—but the real highlight came when you dragged Dokyeom to the photobooth set up in the corner. You’d convinced him to take photos together, even though he looked like he might faint from the sheer proximity.

“Come on, it’s just a few photos,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling him in.

He looked at you and then quickly looked away, his voice low. "It's the dress. It's messing with my head. Stop looking at me like that."

You laughed, nudging him lightly. "Stop being so shy, it's just me."

But despite his shyness, he agreed, and you both stepped into the booth. You took the first pose, smiling hard, and when the flash went off, Dokyeom was grinning too—though you could tell he was still flustered.

For the second pose, you turned to him with a mischievous glint in your eye. Without warning, you kissed him on the cheek just as the camera snapped the picture. Dokyeom’s eyes widened, and his smile grew so big, he looked like he might burst from happiness.

By the third pose, you two were looking at each other, and the air felt a little different. More charged. Dokyeom’s gaze softened as he looked at you, and then he whispered, “You’re so pretty, you know? My heart is about to burst. Stop it.”

Before you could respond, he raised a hand and gently covered your eyes.

“What are you doing?” you asked, laughing softly under your breath.

“Just trust me,” he murmured, and you did. In the fourth pose, you felt his soft lips against yours, so quick and gentle, but enough to make your own heart race. When he pulled back, his face was bright red, and yours wasn’t far behind. You both sat there for a second, staring at each other, the weight of the moment sinking in.

Dokyeom was the first to break, covering his face with his hands. “You’re killing me, stop staring like that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how adorably nervous he was. “I like it when you’re all shy like this. It’s cute.”

He groaned, gently pushing you away with a smile. “Seriously, stop it. You’re making it worse.” But then his expression softened, and he took your hand again, squeezing it gently. “I love you, [Y/N].”

Your heart melted, and you couldn’t help but tease him one last time. “I love you too, Dikeyyy.”

Just as you were about to say something more, the curtain of the photobooth flew open, and the boys burst in like a whirlwind of chaos.

“Soarin’ like dolphins!” Mingyu announced dramatically. “C’mon, we want our turn!”

Dokyeom shot them a death glare, but you couldn’t stop laughing as you both stumbled out of the booth. The moment was over, but it was something you’d never forget.

#dokyeom x reader #seokmin x reader #dk x reader #dk svt x reader #dk x reader fluff #seokmin x reader fluff #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fluff fic

38 notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

Note

I’m so glad you liked the jokes!

(I though they were hilarious because my sense of humor is nothing if not bad dad jokes, puns, and sarcasm. But I can’t even take credit for them because I found them online haha)

For the blurb idk if you intended for me to ask for something specific or not but I kinda just want to see what you’ll come up with if that’s okay? I feel like any idea you had would be better than mine anyway lol. Up to you really on whether or not you already have ideas or need some help. ♥️

the jokes were so so good i loved them truly. my sense of humor is the exact same way. and oh bless your soul for letting my mind run wild. i present to you all an idea that literally sent me feral, in which you've got some new perfumes and eddie is a blind idiot.

warnings: fem!reader, reader is very vaguely described as having hair that is at least shoulder length as well as buying items such as bras perfumes and chapsticks, hints at sexual themes but no actual smut, neck kissing and just good old fashioned kissing happens, eddie is kind of a perv? a little bit? also, not edited (what's new?) minors dni.

wc: 4.1k+ (i got a little carried away)

“Smell this.”

The demand is paired with a sudden wrist in Eddie’s face that nearly has him falling off the bed.

“Excuse me?”

You and Eddie had been best friends for a while now. Since that first week of freshman year. Eddie, in all his awkward glory, had leaned up from his seat behind you in Mrs. Damon’s first hour English class, stabbed you right in the shoulder blade with a dully sharpened pencil just to inform you that he liked your shirt. You, in all your teacher’s pet façade, had only shushed him harshly and glared before turning back around. But some time between the ice breakers and the saving grace of the first bell of what would be a long high school career, you’d decided you would address him before you’d scurried out of that classroom and thank him. But not before you’d informed him that you didn’t even know the band displayed, had just thrifted the shirt for looking cool, and had unknowingly sent Eddie on a mission to educate you in the glory of his favorite band.

And nearly six years later, he was still on that mission. You were stubborn and had sworn loyalty to Fleetwood Mac before Eddie and Metallica had ever even stood a chance.

He doesn’t mind. He’d listen to the Rumors album on repeat for the rest of his days if it meant he always ended up in this position at the end of the day — in his room, on his bed, lounging with you to pass the time.

Your wrist is still held up dangerously close to Eddie’s face in the present day, a look of determination and contemplation overtaking you, “Smell. My. Wrist.”

Six years is a long time to grow comfortable with someone. And, in Eddie’s case, fall in love with your best friend.

“I’m not smelling your wrist, weirdo,” he mumbles as he swats your hand away, squinting at the way you were perched on your knees as they sunk into his mattress. He had been halfway to a much needed nap before you had lost interest in whatever magazine you’d been reading, “Why do you even need me to? What didja do to it?”

His words are still half slurring from fatigue. If he cuts off your pestering strategically enough, he might still achieve that nap his heavy bones so desperately yearned for.

You readjust yourself, flopping down to sit beside Eddie with your legs stretched out as he lifts himself up. Shoulder to shoulder, calf along calf, the two of you prop your backs against his warm bedroom wall, “I went to Starcourt yesterday with Nancy and bought some new perfumes-“

“Perfumes?” he wrinkles his nose, “Plural?”

He would have sworn he’d have noticed a new perfume, but these days, he’d been trying to put some restraint on his pathetic crush. Tried to tame the yearning inside of him, which meant less indulging in things like sniffing the air like a freakish dog whenever you entered a room just to drink in the smell of you that had brought him so much comfort over the years. Less letting his eyes linger on the straps of the bras you’d started wearing more of since you’d begun to hang out more with the likes of Nancy Wheeler, who had been single-handedly teaching you how to be a girl in a way Eddie had never witnessed from you.

You’d wasted most of your critical youth surrounded by boys, by Eddie. Go figure that Wheeler was jumping at the opportunity to mold a blank canvas.

“Yes, I bought perfumes, plural, as in multiple- oh, don’t give me that look, Munson,” you scowl when he makes a face, wrinkles forming adorably between your brows. (Brows he was pretty sure Nancy had plucked for you last weekend, but again — Eddie wasn’t supposed to notice those things anymore. Tampering the crush, or whatever idiotic goal he had set for himself.), “They were on a BOGO sale. Bite me. Anyways, I got these new perfumes, and one of the ladies was telling me and Nance how you should layer your scents. Which, God, doesn’t that sound ridiculous?”

Eddie hums, eyebrows raised skeptically at where this rambling was going.

“So I bought these scents that she said might pair well together. But then, she was talking about body chemistry and-“ you cut yourself off, clearly realizing how boring this topic might be to someone like Eddie who hadn’t even picked out his own drugstore cologne (you had), “Listen, just… just stop questioning it and smell my wrist.”

Once again, you hold your arm out in front of Eddie’s now softening face. He’s holding his breath, which he hopes you don’t notice, as he weighs his options.

Smell your wrist, probably subjecting himself to a terrible sort of pain when he realizes he'd much rather be placing feathery kisses there before moving onto your knuckles as he holds your hand. Or deny you, possibly hurt your feelings or offend you as he brushes this off as another girly thing he wanted nothing to do with.

The fleeting image of your face if he were to reject you in this moment is enough to make his choice for him.

He never could say no to you.

“What am I even supposed to be smelling it for?” he grumbles as he reaches out and grabs your forearm, opting that safer territory than your hand as he guided your skin closer to him, “Like, I’m not a scents expert, sweet-“

Oh.

Eddie’s brain short circuits as the tip of his nose brushes your soft skin. The pet name dies on his tongue, the inhale through his nose cutting off just as suddenly.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

He already knows he's a sucker for you, a dog with a bone when it comes to your presence and attention. He already relished in your old perfume's scent and the way it would cling to a room, lingering on his sheets when you’d sleep over after a movie night gone too late. When you’d borrow his Hellfire shirt and return it without washing it, leaving the collar tainted with sweetness and enough undertones of vanilla to make a chasm within him yearn terribly.

But this new perfume, perfumes technically, were something different. They weren’t the same as the body spray you’d been using every day since freshman year. They were deeper, more complicated, more womanly than he had prepared himself for.

“Does it… does it smell good?” you meekly ask him, suddenly going shy at his frozen state, “Like, is it working with my… my own smell? Sometimes perfumes smell good on their own but don’t work with your body’s chemistry, that’s what the lady had been explaining to me and Nan-“

“It’s working.”

It’s all he can manage to choke out as he lets go of your arm so that it falls away and takes the sweet smells with it.

God, it was working.

Eddie felt more embarrassed than he had that first month of puberty, when he was just discovering girls and noticing the stretch of t-shirts over chests. He felt even more affected than the first time he’d let his eyes wander over the back of Cheryl T’s thighs the last day of eighth grade, and discovered the wonders of an ass’ curve.

All his blood would not be rushing south. No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t allow it, not when he was fully grown and should have some self-control, and certainly not when he was wearing his thinnest pair of boxers with grey fucking sweatpants.

Your eyes are wide with innocence, or at least what he hopes is innocence, “Really? It smells good?”

He has to clear his throat before he can properly reply, “‘s good, yeah. It, uh, yeah. Smells good.”

Think of naked grandmas. Think of kicked puppies. Think of literally anything except her soft ski-

“Awesome!” you’re suddenly sitting crisscross beside him, facing him fully, “Okay, that’s- awesome. Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” were you just as flustered as he was? Was he reading this wrong? “The lady actually told us - okay, I know it’s stupid and boring so bear with me - but she told us to put them on all our pulse points. So that way, it… uh… it makes the perfume last longer.”

He can’t get the smell out of his nose. Something so sweet, something so enticing, something so… you. The perfumes were fancy, but somehow, they were you. Smells of summer and spring and tooth-aching sweetness that was driving Eddie mad.

He’ll never be able to let you sleep in his bed again. He doesn’t want to consider what shameful, hormone-fueled decisions he would make if he had to experience his pillow smelling like that even when you were long gone.

Get it together, Munson.

“Makes sense,” he lies, still struggling to get his tongue to function properly. All he’s thinking about is trailing it over that sweet spot on your wrist now, lips sucking on every inch of skin you currently had exposed- Naked grandmas. Kicked puppies, “Is that all you needed? Can I take a nap now?”

Hell, he’s torn between wanting you to stay and ushering you out of his trailer so he can have a few moments alone. Weighing the risks of escaping to the bathroom for a few minutes too long just to get his problem under control.

He’s twenty, not fifteen. A girl’s perfume should not be affecting him this way.

Your face falls ever so slightly, “Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Like I said, I know it’s boring-“

“It’s not boring,” he interrupts, realizing that he’s mere seconds away from genuinely hurting your feelings. Or perhaps he’s already there, having been a complete idiot. He still remembers your face the day he’d contained his reaction to your new bra — how he’d gone into autopilot and snapped the strap like some little boy on the playground just to play off how flustered it made him. You hadn’t admitted it to him, but his reaction had hurt you. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice, “The whole science behind it — it sounds pretty cool, honestly.”

Nothing that made you so excited, so giddy, could ever be boring to him. He loved seeing you buzz with your emotions and expectancy. He just didn’t love the way his heart and mind seemed to run with every single, little, goddamn bone you tossed him.

You were his best friend. He shouldn’t think of you like that. He couldn’t.

“It is,” you light back up in the slightest, saucer eyes boring into his again. Not quite as animated as before, but not quite as deflated as you had been heading, “Actually- Can I ask another favor?”

Anything.

“Sure, sweetheart,” his heart had finally slowed its pace, the reigns back in his control as the perfume lingered in the air but didn’t overwhelm him, “What’s up?”

“So… the wrists aren’t the only pulse points you’re supposed to wear perfume on.”

Oh, God. Where were you going with this?

“No?” he tries to tease, tries to smile at you. It’s fruitless — his heart has begun to pound again, “I sure hope it wouldn’t be. I mean, blood kind of rushes everywhere, isn’t that the point-“

“The neck,” you blurt out, making the rest of Eddie’s sentence disappear into the air, “The, uh, the neck is the other place. Well, not just the neck, it’s…” you trail off, twiddling with your thumbs for a second before you lift a hand to gather away any stray hairs from curtaining the side of your neck. You even go so far as to secure the hand behind your ear, “Behind the ears. You’re supposed to spray it behind your ears, too.”

“Okay…” he enunciates slowly, resisting the urge to bite his lip as he starts to catch up with where you’re going with this, and desperately hoping that he’s wrong.

“Can you… Would you…” you pause and take a deep breath, eyes shutting for a second. When you open the back up, a new wave of determination is set around your pupils, “Eddie, can you smell my neck?”

What sort of sick, twisted, wet dream am I living in right now?

Eddie is suddenly convinced you never interrupted his attempt at a nap. He’s asleep right now, soundly curled into himself, and you’re still lounging casually with your magazine on the other side of his bed. That must be it, because there’s no way you’re actually offering him to press himself so closely into your vicinity as he’s only ever dreamed of.

“What?” he weakly questions.

If this is a dream, dear God, don’t let me wake up.

“Can you smell my neck?” you repeat yourself with a little more confidence before pulling your best puppy dog eyes, “I just- I want to make sure it smells good. Everywhere.”

Damn Nancy Wheeler for whatever journey of self-discovery she’d sent you on. Damn her, and damn the perfume lady, and damn Eddie for reaping such benefits.

He should say no. He should really, really say no.

He’s wearing goddamn grey sweatpants, he should say no.

“S-Sure.”

Famous last words.

Your hair has already been moved, making it easier for Eddie when he leans forward at his waist. You lean in as well, jutting out your chin and angling your neck for his taking.

It’s such a bad idea.

The tip of his nose is bumping your skin again as his eyes flutter shut. He’s trying so hard to contain himself, to not make a fool of himself. But when he feels that softness again, when he’s being unraveled by warm notes of vanilla and patchouli, deep breaths of apple blossom of blackberry – he just breaks.

He doesn’t realize that his lips have joined his nose in brushing up against your sweet spot until he hears you let out a shaky gasp, one that almost resembles a whine.

His reaction should be to pull back. He should remove himself, apologize for going too far, stop before he’s fallen off the cliff himself. He doesn’t.

Instead, he takes a moment of stillness as his head reels, overcome in the smell of your new perfume again and ears straining relentlessly to seek out another one of those pretty sounds.

He wants to hear it again. He needs to know if it was a moan or a gasp, or nothing more than a ticklish breath.

His lips pucker with intention this time. His nose trails up behind your ear, taking in the full bodied scent of the perfume on the skin as he places another chaste kiss against your pulse.

It’s racing. Your heartbeat is goddamn racing.

The moment his lips connect, another gasp sounds. A sharp intake of breath that whistles so sweetly to his ears before you’re exhaling with a proper, albeit quiet, whimper.

No amount of naked grandmas or kicked puppies can save him now. He’s a goner – he’s been a goner – and he leaps off that cliff full force now as he leans back and out of your space.

Your eyes are shut. Eyelashes fluttering prettily, just barely brushing the skin beneath your eyes.

He almost whispers out a gentle sweetheart as he stays close enough for you to feel his breath on that very same cheek, but when your eyes finally do open to meet his, he can’t get a single word out before his body moves to its own accord.

His lips press to yours before he can overthink it.

He waits for the inevitable – for you to freeze up against him, for you to shove him off, for you to curse him out. He shouldn’t have done that. He should’ve asked for permission, he should have had more self-control.

But you don’t. Instead, you take him by surprise and you kiss him back.

Instantly, without an inch of hesitation, your lips work in tangent with his. Parting and welcoming him as if they had been waiting for this moment longer than he could comprehend. Pressing back with just as much, if not more fervency as his do. You match his desperation every step of the way until you’ve both exhausted all the breath inside your lungs. He has no choice but to pull back, to part from you and gulp in oxygen before he makes any more bad decisions.

Lord know he’s full of them when he’s suddenly gazing into your glossy eyes.

“I’m sorry-” he immediately rushes out to apologize, but a sharp shake of your head halts him.

“Don’t be,” you whisper, “I… Do it again.”

“What?”

“Kiss me again. Please.”

Eddie isn’t in the business of making you beg; he never really can say no to you.

He kisses you again. And again. And again. A collage of pecks and soft slipping, tasting your chapstick and somehow moving the two of you so that he’s back to his original position with his back against the wall, and you now straddling his lap. You hover, completely unaware of how much you’re affecting him. When you let his tongue slip into your mouth without any bartering, he ends up letting out a moan that slips right down your throat. His hands are still so hesitant, but when you reach down and encourage his palms to engulf wherever they please, he’s on a mission of exploration. Soft caresses to your thighs, from the ditch of your bent knees to the skin hardly hidden beneath the hem of your lounge shorts. They wind their way up the pathways of your hips, squeezing at the soft give of the flesh there before he continues upwards. Up, up, up – until they find home in the curve of your waist, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you impossibly close.

That damn perfume doesn’t just linger, not anymore. With you pressed against him, with the way he’s wound so tightly around you, it drowns him. Vanilla, coffee, blackberry, apple blossoms. A multitude of scents he’s sure his plain nose can’t even pick up on, and that he doesn’t really care to name. All he cares about is the smell of you. Something new and something fancy, but so very you.

“I-” you break from the kiss, “Can’t-” you smack another one on him, beginning to take initiative, “Believe-” the next one misses his mouth, hardly landing against the upturned corner, “It took-” your final kiss lands on his dimple before you pull back fully and cup his hands within your palms, still hovering and straddling his waist, “A stupid fucking perfume ruse to get you to kiss me.”

He’s lovedrunk, all slow blinks and dumb-founded smile as he looks up at you, hardly processing the words, “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you squeeze his cheeks a little tighter in your touch, “I can’t believe I had to pull that whole stupid act of fluttering my lashes and oh, Eddie, can you smell my perfume for me? To make sure it smells good? To finally get you to just do something.”

His head clears a little as the ghost of your kiss still buzzes on his lips, “Wait- what?”

Your palms slide away, scratching at what scruff has gathered across his jaw line before your hands fully fall away, “You made me act like a damn fool, Eddie Munson.”

“It was all just an act?”

“I can’t believe you were so oblivious.”

“You only made me do that so I’d kiss you?”

“That,” you shrug, curling your hands into fists and gingerly placing them on his chest as his arms untangle from you slightly, only his knuckles resting on your waist now, “And the bra thing. And the whole thing when I bought all those chapsticks and couldn’t pick a favorite flavor.”

“They all tasted good,” he says, confused as he peers up at your faux annoyance, “I even tried them on for you-”

“I didn’t want you to try them on,” you whine, letting a few breathy laughs slip as you sit back, resting your weight entirely on his thighs and narrowly missing his boner you surely hadn’t noticed yet, “I wanted you to taste them off of me. I wanted you to make me put each one on, and kiss me stupid before you’d demand that I move onto the next one. I wanted to be the one to get your lips all sticky, not the fucking chapstick tubes themselves.”

“You-” Eddie’s mouth drops wide open, nearly wider than his eyes, “Hold on, you only brought that up so I’d fucking kiss you?”

You nod as if it had been obvious, grinning wildly now, “God, you’re dense, Munson. I kept telling Nancy you’d figure it out eventually-”

“What does Nancy have to do with this?”

“Nancy has been trying to help me concoct ways to get you to grow the balls and kiss me for months now. Although, to be fair, the bra thing had been Steve’s idea.”

“Harrington?” Eddie gasps out in disbelief as you only throw your head back in laughter. It’s a beautiful sound, one that makes Eddie’s heart race even more painfully than the perfume had, “You went to Harrington for advice about me?”

When you lift your head back up to look at him, you’re all soft smiles and delighted eyes as you quietly admit, “I was getting kind of desperate here.”

His chest heaves, finger unfurling from around your waist.

“I was starting to think maybe you just didn’t like me bac-”

Without warning, Eddie’s hands are gripping your hips and he’s flipping positions, pinning you beneath him. He can’t wrap his head around it. You’d been wanting him to kiss you all this time. And he’d been a blind idiot. Snapping your bra straps, stealing away chapsticks and applying them himself when this entire time, he could have been living out his wildest fantasies.

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything more as he begins to attack you with kisses. One for every missed opportunity. No expanse of skin goes untouched as they graze over your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your neck – anywhere Eddie can access feels the pressure of his eagerness.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he curses himself over your giggles, coming up for air just to stare at you, “I could have- Oh my God. Sweetheart, I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“You are,” you agree breathlessly with aching cheeks, “God, you are.”

He balances himself on his forearms as he stays lifted above you, his hair forming a curtain to cut the two of you off from the rest of the world.

You’re beautiful. Even more beautiful than that first day he’d met you in class, when you’d shushed him and all he did in return was make absolute heart eyes at you.

His best friend. The person he’d be yearning and pining for for six long years. Who had been trying to get him to kiss her for over six months now.

“I like you,” you confess, not breaking eye contact as a hand comes up to his cheek. He’s quick to turn his head, to let your palm press against him as he presses a kiss to your inner wrist, the perfume engulfing him again, “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

He swallows hard, letting his lips remove themselves slowly from your skin and his nose to linger as it presses into the smooth skin, “I like you, too. Have for a few years now.”

“A few?”

“Okay, yeah- the whole time,” his words pull a wider grin from you, “Don’t look so smug. I’m not letting you live down this whole perfume bullshit scheme.”

“And I’m not letting you live down going feral over some overpriced scented oils,” you retort, your cute snort cut short as your breath catches when he kisses your wrist again, “In all seriousness, though… Do you really think it smells good?”

He takes the opportunity to finally lower his hips. Just enough so that his crotch is brushing against your inner thigh, “Yeah, I think you could say I think they smell very good.”

Your hand travels back, caressing at his ear and sending a shiver down his spine before both of them latch behind his neck, prepared to pull him down into a kiss, “You got hard over some new perfumes, Munson? God, you’re easy.”

“I am,” he doesn’t fight it as he lets you, not gravity, tug him downwards, “I am so easy when it comes to you, baby.”

“Good thing I’m wearing one of those new bras, then,” you muse, placing far too quick of a kiss for his liking onto his lips before you tug him a bit lower, burying his face back in the side of your neck as you whisper in his ear, “Prove it.”

Eddie should probably send a thank you card to Nancy Wheeler and the mall’s perfume lady. Not Harrington, though. Never Steve Harrington.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @thebanisheddreamer @water-loos @dailyobsession @whenshelanded @happy-and-alone

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #no use of y/n #i had so much fun with this i'm not even sorry #it had me YEARNING #GIGGLING #KICKING MY FUCKING FEET #god i hate him i wanna show him my new perfumes #shamelessly described my own new perfumes i just got too sorry

354 notes · View notes

spiritforestwrit · 2 months ago

Text

didn’t want to start mist discourse but i’m mad. i think this fandom has a rather glaring issue about how they treat female characters in general. so anyways a rant towards a few certain anons who have decided hating on mist is the new hot thing!

Mist Is A Good Character, Actually: Why This Fandom Needs to Treat Female Characters Better

(she likes to pick apples! good for her! …or are those tomatoes?)

i can tell that one of those anons never played the tellius duology simply because in a cutscene in the PROLOGUE mist is literally playing in a field of flowers??? the cutscene with the famous “ ‘bout time!” line from the questionable english dub??? established right off the bat is that she enjoys nature, confirmed by her official art above showing her with a basket of apples! listen i hate being a gatekeeper, the tellius games aren’t the easiest to emulate and physical copies are pricey, but come on. you can’t be sending anon hate when you barely know the characters. i’ve also seen someone talk about how her only trait is being ike’s sister??? what??? okay listen to me for a second. their mom is dead at the start of path of radiance. greil is still alive at this point. mists behaviour is a bit different from how she is in later chapters and in radiant dawn at this point, such as poking fun at ike and boyd. however, once greil dies, she breaks down, and is a lot more attached to ike from then on. she literally follows him into the final black knight fight in path of radiance. SOREN of all people stayed out of it and lord knows he’s with ike all the time. so don’t come at me with this “she’s just ike’s sister 🤓” stuff, she’s scared to lose him after losing both parents before she’s even an adult, because when greil went off to fight by himself, he died!

you also can’t just dictate whether or not a character is good because of a tiny list of what they like. that’s not how it works. mist is not a “mini housewife”, she is a fifteen year old who lost her mother at a young age and is one of two girls in the Greil Mercenaries before Mia joins - it’s pretty clear, to me at least, that that’s probably affected her and who she is as a character. the duality of a fifteen year old girl who enjoys playing in flower fields and teases her brother, but is also one of two girls in a male-dominated mercenary group, stuck doing most of the chores because aside from oscar being a cook, i can’t see people like boyd or gatrie coming in to help with the domestic stuff like sewing!

i would also like to add that i do agree that fire emblem is weird about character ages, but listen. stop getting mad about how she should’ve been ten years old or whatever. that’s not helpful when looking at a character from an analytical angle. use it to ask WHY the creators chose to design her that way or why she acts childish at times. my english teacher once said to us, nothing is by accident in a short story. the author has limited space to tell their story, so everything serves a purpose. why is this relevant? the same philosophy holds here, in my opinion. fire emblem is a series that has a huge cast of characters that all have to share that limited amount of screen time. when taking a look at someone’s character, you can’t just immediately write something off as the designers being silly. so why is mists age 15 when she looks and acts in such a way? to me, the designers wanted to show how she didn’t get the chance to grow up like most girls, raised in a place where she had to learn to take care of herself pretty fast, and she’s trying to hold on to what she has left of her childhood - when she had the time to focus on hobbies aside from domestic ones. this isn’t a knock on greil or titania or the other mercenaries, though; it’s just the nature of having to leave their base quite often, and i think mist had to find comfort in the small things that started off as chores, hence why they’re in her list of liked things.

this whole mist debacle has kinda exposed something within the fire emblem fandom that isn’t talked about much. yes this was only two anons who came after her, but it’s something i find prevalent with other female characters like deirdre. a lot of people don’t take the time to look into female characters and who they are, and write them off as being boring and having no personality. and i don’t think the guys of fire emblem get that same treatment at all. the fact that SHE was singled out in a cast of over 70 playable characters by radiant dawn is just nuts to me. “dragging down tellius”. the same games with a character who’s been called out for being a racist stereotype. and it just makes me angry that this kind of treatment of the girls of fire emblem goes unchecked a lot of the time. hyping up Lyn or whoever is generally perceived as a “good character” doesn’t mean you’re automatically exempt from contributing to fandom misogyny. and the reason i say this is because a lot of these fans don’t really care about taking a deeper look into the women. it’s a surface level glance at them. there’s a reason why micaiah used to be called a mary-sue. they just assume that they won’t be as “well-written” compared to the men. if you want to combat fandom misogyny, you have to uplift all women in the cast, and that includes women you think are uninteresting or bland, because there’s some really interesting stories being told that have been ignored. again taking the tellius fandom as an example: there are so many amazing female characters in the duology, like there’s Jill of course but they genuinely did a great job with so many of the women. lethe, elincia, micaiah, titania, almedha, ena, to name a few. and while yes, they’re generally regarded as good characters, they don’t get the same amount of love the others do - there’s hardly anyone digging into them and their motivations. and it’s criminal.

in conclusion, do better. mist isn’t a bad character. fandom misogyny runs deep, and the only way to fight it is to start appreciating the women of the series as characters, and to give them the same in-depth analyses the men get.

27 notes · View notes

sunshine-theseus · 1 year ago

Text

Angel In Disguise | Esme Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2k

Summary: life’s hard when all your students prefer your footballer partner over you.

Warnings: fluff, children? idk how the English school timeline works and the Australian one doesn’t match up with the story so I’m just saying school starts in like September and ends in late May??

Request for: @wlwskyy i hope this is good! it's probably not as good as I hoped but i'm still pretty happy with it

Being a primary school teacher was hard. Trying to help students who struggle with the content while also helping others progress. Being strict while also wanting to be fun. My biggest struggle though, was a very me specific one.

Esme Morgan loves to visit me or help me out at school from time to time, and just like everyone else she meets, the kids fall in love with her. From the first time they meet her, they’re begging me to bring her back.

“Ms L/n it’s so cool you’re dating a footballer! Can you bring her back tomorrow? And the day after that and the day after that one until forever?” and once they realise that she actually has her own job to do, they beg I bring her in at least once a term.

It was my first year teaching after university, the first time she’d come to work, and it had been a complete surprise.

After she broke her leg in 2021, Esme struggled to fill her time. She’d made about 27 bracelets in the first 3 days, then tried to bake a little, although it went rather poorly. She then watched all the original Disney movies in release order. I think she got to Mulan II before she decided enough was enough.

I was in the middle of teaching the times tables when there was a light knock on the door. I could see her cheeky smile through the small pane of glass and rushed to open it for her. Esme stumbles through the door, her moon boot and crutches making it difficult for her to fit through the rather narrow frame.

She pecks me on the lips and the room erupts in childish giggles. Romantic affection was something so foreign to 8 and 9 year olds.

“Es… what are you doing here?” I whisper as I pull a chair for her sit on.

“I got bored, and I miss yoouu.” She smiles up at me and I can’t help but smile back.

“Oh! And I brought gifts for the kiddos!” she holds out a paper bag and I peak inside.

My heart melts at the pile of hand-crafted bracelets, ranging in colour and design, that fill a significant proportion of the bag.

She spent the rest of the day surrounded by my class. Eventually I had to stop teaching because they were so in love with this angelic limping figure who brough them friendship bracelets. I don’t think Esme prepared for them all to assume she was every single one of their best friends.

~~~~~

It was nearly Christmas break when she first met my class for this year, and everyone knew who she was. For the first time, I didn’t have to introduce her or tell them what she does for them to get hyped.

“I WATCHED YOU IN THAT FOOTBALL THING” and other similar phrases are shouted many times when she enters the room.

When I looked at her it was hard not to smile. She was playing and talking with kids and giving them all little bracelets, just like she does every year.

As she was crouched in front of a small group who were excitedly asking her questions, Marley, a rather shy and quiet girl, walked up to Esme and lightly tapped her shoulder. She fiddles with her fingers and avoids looking at anyone as she waits.

“Excuse me Mrs Esme?” Esme is already smiling when she turns to look at Marley.

“Hey kiddo!”

“Um you’re my favourite player of all time. I watch all your games and wanna grow up and play just like you.” And Esme’s smile grew bigger, something I wasn’t sure was possible.

“That’s so cool! Can I give you a hug?” Marley nods and giggles into the embrace, and then they begin to talk about Marley’s interest in football and Esme’s work.

I’d been struggling to get her to talk for 2 months, and Es came in and got her to talk within minutes, but I can’t stop staring lovingly at the angel of a woman in front of me. There was a part of myself I saw in Marley. I’d struggled to be very open for a long time until I met Esme. She just had this gentle, caring nature that was hard to ignore.

Marley misses her the most between visits. They’d made a secret handshake and love to chat and giggle on the oval at lunch, kicking the ball around.

In between visits Esme and Marley both interchangeably would give me something to give the other; a bracelet or a packet of lollies or a flower they found randomly. It was so hard for me to not burst from how cute their friendship was.

It had changed Es as well. Obviously, she has always been welcoming and warm-hearted but she’d become more confident about her play and sometimes I would catch her bragging to her teammates.

“I’m Marley’s favourite player!” it took them a while to realise who Marley was, but they found it adorable.

We’re in our last week for the school year, just in time for Esme to make one more surprise appearance before she has leave for camp for the France Olympics. I’d told the kids she wasn’t sure if she would have time to make it between finishing up the season and preparing for the Olympics, but that didn’t stop them from begging me to bring her in.

It’s the last day, everyone already buzzing for their long holiday, and admittedly from the lollies I gave them. I always try to make the last day super fun, activities and music and a surprise guest.

By midday I’d already had to apologise that Esme couldn’t make it. 17 times and counting.

And by 1, there was a knock on the door. A knock the kids were all too familiar with, and Esme rushes into the room, kids swarming her from all angles.

“Hey kiddos!”

“Hey pretty lady” she turns to me and kisses me quickly. Gags and loud ‘ewww!’s echo out.

Marley waits patiently with a small bag in her hand, still considerably shy. Esme wastes no time in getting to the young girl, with a similar bag in hand.

“Hey Mar! I got you a little something.” Esme hands the bag over, and everyone watches carefully as she pulls out whatever lays inside.

I see the familiar light blue peak out, and recognise the jersey design I sport most weekends. The present is clear when Marley starts jumping up and down in excitement.

“It’s one of my spares so don’t tell Gareth, ok? I got all the girls to sign it.” Marley is wrapped around Esme before she can finish the sentence.

“Thank you!” she scrambles to put her bag in Esme’s hands before tugging the shirt over her head.

I nearly scream when I see Esme pull out a black and purple jersey, colours I know from all the pictures Marley shows me of her games, usually with a trophy in her hands. Her last name and the number 14 adorn the back with a tiny ‘Marley’ in black sharpie on the ‘1’.

“Oh my god Marley this is so cool! I’m going to keep this forever. In a few years time I’m going to see you playing for England and know I got the first ever Marley jersey and signature. And of course you’ll play for Manchester City yeah?” the little girl eagerly nods her head.

The day goes on and the kids go home for the last time. Esme leaves after an hour of helping me pack up the classroom, to start dinner and I don’t finish until 5:30.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I’m exhausted, but satisfied with my work for the year.

I leave most of my gear in the car to unpack another day and walk to the door. I struggle to open it for a moment but when I do, I’m hit by the smell of my favourite meal cooking and the sound of Esme singing, albeit not well.

I drag my feet into the kitchen and wrap my arms around my wife, kissing her back as I just rest against her.

“Hello my love.”

“Hey sunshine.” I pause for a moment.

“You’re so good with kids.” She hums as she turns the stove off.

“And you helped Marley so much.”

“She’s a good kid, it’s hard not to like her.” I pull away and reach up to kiss her on the cheek before looking for the small gift bag.

“What are you doing?” Esme questions as she begins to plate to the food

“Well we have to measure Marley’s shirt for a frame so we can hang it up don’t we? I want to be able to boast to the world in like 8 years time about how I taught her and how we have her first ever signature.” I poke her in the side as I grab my plate.

“Well how about we do that tomorrow? I just want to cuddle with you tonight before we have to pack and get ready for camp.” I let out a loud groan.

“I can’t believe you’re taking me to France, and we’ll barely be able to do any of that gross romantic shit together.” Esme smiles down at me, regret floating behind her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Noo I’m so excited I just think they’re cruel for making players do their job or whatever.” I jokingly roll my eyes before I lean back into her on the couch, both our plates sat in our laps.

“I promise to take you to that restaurant on the top of the Eiffel Tower before we leave.” She kisses my forehead.

~~~~~

“This is light work for the defender, tapping the ball passed Courtney Nevin and chipping it passed the Australian goalkeeper! IT’S A GOAL FOR ENGLAND AND THEY FIND AN EQUALISER IN THE OLYMPIC FINALS!”

I cheer at the goal with the rest of the stadium, hugging the small girl next to me as she bounces in excitement.

“Did you see that mumma? She scored! Mar Mar scored!” Reese shouts over everyone else.

“I did! It was amazing, wasn’t it?”

When the game ends, I pick Reese up and we rush down to the pitch with the other family members, celebrating as we make our way. It takes us a few minutes to spot the players we’re looking for but when Reese points them out, I put her down and she runs toward them without a single thought.

“Congratulations!” I pull Esme into a kiss before turning to Marley. The 16-year-old smiled brightly at me before hugging me tightly.

“Your goal was fucking phenomenal Marley! They should make you a striker.”

“But then she wouldn’t be just like her favourite player” Esme buts in, our daughter falling asleep on her hip. We all laugh and continue to talk with the other girls and celebrate until we decide to head back to the hotel to put Reese to bed.

“I’m so proud of how far you’ve come you know?” I pull Marley into my side as we wait for the elevator.

“From ‘shy little 8 year old who refused to talk to her teacher’ to ‘number 14; defender and debut scorer for her country at the 2032 Olympics at 16 years old’.”

“And one of the youngest and best signings for Man City!” Esme chimes in

“Thank you for always believing in me.”

After we say goodnight to Marley and make sure Reese is definitely asleep, I climb into bed with Esme.

“You’re so amazing.” I stare at her. Sometimes I don’t understand how I was blessed with such a kind-hearted, gentle woman.

“I try.” We break out in giggles and I slap her lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” we don’t say anything else.

She kisses me hard before I rest my head on her chest, her arm wrapping around me as we fall asleep. She’s my angel in disguise.

#woso x reader #woso #wwc 2023 #olympics 2024 #esme morgan #esme morgan x reader #womens soccer

361 notes · View notes

shu-box-puns · 2 years ago

Text

Leaning to put on an exopack

'You lose that mask, you’re unconscious in twenty seconds, you’re dead in four minutes.'

More of my Dad!Tsu'tey and Spider brain rot.

Right so when the school was still an active thing and before Sylwanin died, Tsu'tey attended with the other children. He was one of Grace's best students. Incredibly bright and eager to learn. Very competitive with Neytiri to see who could learn the most English words in the least amount of time.

Tsu'tey was not part of the group that set the bulldozer on fire. He wasn't even in school that day since his father had taken him and his brother out on a hunt for the day. By some dumb luck, he missed the entire situation.

The school got closed down. Sylwanin died of her wounds. And the Omaticaya learnt all they needed to about the Sky People.

But Tsu’tey wasn't done. He noticed that Grace's demon body often visited the school. She tidied the learning resources and swept the leaves.

He approached her on impulse one day, intending to chase her off but instead growing curious.

He demanded she teach him about the breathing masks the Sky People wore. How to disable them, how they worked. Anything he could use to his advantage should they turn their attention on HomeTree.

Grace had agreed easily enough. Tsu'tey assumed it was her love of teaching that convinced her, but he had a sneaking suspision she had simply had a soft spot for him.

She had turned to one of the cupboards facing the far wall, mercilessly untouched by bullet wounds, and began pulling out various exopacks for him to practice on.

If she was disturbed by his reasonings, she didn't show it as she cleared one of the tables and began setting the spare exopacks down. She turned away again, ducking down to drag out a human-sized silicone dummy for him to practise disarming.

The exopacks turned out to be easy to break. All he had to do was break the glass front covering the face or slash the breathing tube that connected the face to the small pack that typically hung from a belt or was attached to a backpack.

He found them incredibly bothersome.

"Very good." Grace complimented, and Tsu’tey returned his gaze to her. He recognised the challenge in her tone. Similar to how she used to goad him into pushing himself further during English lessons. His head tilted in silent question and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards. "Can you take them off without destroying them?"

He scoffed. Of course he could.

And then he attempted to do so and failed miserably.

Tsu'tey quickly discovered that the straps that secured the mask to the back of the skull were too small for his fingers and he often ended up tearing them clean off by accident. The valves were too fiddly and popped off easily. By the time he could confidently put on and take off the exopack from the human-sized mannequin Grace provided, she had a small mountain of packs in need of repairing.

Carefully removing the mask from the mannequin was counter productive and far more time consuming than breaking it. He told her as such and she merely laughed.

In hindsight and years down the line, Tsu’tey thanked Grace with all he had for her challenge. He prayed to the Great Mother, praising her for putting those curious thoughts into his head and encouraging him to take those lessons from his late teacher.

Every prayer of gratitude he'd ever learnt fell from his lips as he knelt curled over his vulnerable, sky person son. The limp boy lay unconscious in his arms, completely shielded from the forest within Tsu'tey's protective embrace.

At the hunter's feet sat Spider's old exopack, the glass front smashed in and the cables in disarray after he'd hit the ground hard and collided with a rock concealed by moss. By some miracle, Tsu'tey had remembered to strap a spare to his belt earlier that morning.

It had happened so fast. Terrifyingly fast.

By nature, Spider had always been clumsy. So Tsu'tey had assumed this fall was like all the others. With a roll of his eyes, he'd hooked his arms under Spider's armpits and hauled him to his feet. He hadn't stood when Tsu'tey had gone to set him back down.

The hunter's ears flickered uncertainly at the strange wheezing sound the boy was making. He realised that the mask was no longer hissing in time with every breath. Time had slowed as Tsu'tey glanced to the moss cloaked rock and recognised the shape and shine of broken glass. His blood had run cold and Spider stopped making that awful noise.

Somehow that was far worse than his son struggling to breath.

Instinct had had Tsu'tey scooping his son up into his arms. He spun him round and Spider had gone limp in his grasp. His lips turning blue and his eyes unseeing. He was still breathing. But each breath was shallow. Unfufilling.

Muscle memory had Tsu’tey scrambling for the exopack at his belt. His eyes were narrowed in concentration despite the sickeningly fast pounding of his heart. Those hours spent crouched over the silicon mannequin came in handy as he managed to slip the straps over his boy's face and turn on the air flow. His large fingers fiddled frantically with the buttons, eyes flicking all over Spider's face as the mask audibly suctioned on.

Spider did not wake. But the blue tint to his face had immediately subsided as Earth air flooded his system; filling his suffocating lungs. The seizing of his chest ceased and he finally stopped twitching. He looked like he'd fallen asleep again.

Tsu’tey could've wept with relief as he clutched Spider to his chest; fingers spread between his shoulder blades to support his back where he could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his hand. His head was cradled against his neck, where the rhythmic inhale and click of the exopack further calmed Tsu'tey's nerves.

He would live, he knew.

After years of war, he knew first hand what a dying human sounded like. How their body seized from the lack of breathable air, how they went deathly still, eyes unseeing.

In contrast, Spider was peaceful. Cuddling into his warmth and practically melting under his touch.

He’s been fast enough, he reassured himself.

And for now, that was enough.

#tsu’tey #Tsu'tey #spider #spider socorro #me looking at two characters who have never met in cannon and have no idea of the other's existence #i am loving the father son potential #father son moment #father son duo #found family

447 notes · View notes