#single dad to one black cat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yandere-kokeshi · 8 months ago

Note

We need to know how separate TF-141 would be as house-husbands!!! Please!!!

— Yandere headcanons of TF-141 as house-husbands

Warnings: Yandere behavior, older! characters, male gender roles, NSFW, slight delusional behaviors.

A/N: Anon, you are SO, so smart. I love you /a.

Captain “Price” John:

The type of house-husband nobody expected for him to be– not even himself. John had partially agreed to it, and now he’s a stay-at-home dad for your cats. When he wedded you, he never thought of it this way; and now, he had promised to always care for you, did he not?

Price is well over-tired, pretty hairy and massive; beard scratchy and face all squishy; he’s a chubby man. But that doesn’t stop him at all.

John loves waking you up in the mornings. Before even shaking you awake, he loves to admire you. Watching your different breathing patterns, some dribbles of drool, and the obvious bed marks staining your face makes him smirk. But of course, it ends too short when he realizes you need to get up.

John is so, oh gentle, when waking you up. Scarred hands rubbing at your hips as he rubs his beard into your shoulder, prepping kisses and telling you to get a move on. However, if you ignore him, he’s more than happy to leave some permanent marks, yes?

He always makes your breakfast and lunch the night before, chopping the meat, fruits, and vegetables into the correct order so he can easily sleep in with you till you leave. So, when your alarm goes off, he detaches himself from you, getting up with only his red boxers– turning on the oven to preheat the food yet again and leaving them on the table for you to enjoy when you get out of the shower.

And with that, he takes your health seriously, mentally and physically, which means most foods in the house are pretty healthy. All types of fruits, veggies, protein, and fiber nourishment is given with each meal, and he expects you to eat it all.

When shopping, he takes everything seriously. He hates getting off track, only sticking to what’s on the list, and cashiers who take too long on talking– especially if they openly flirt with him. Can’t you see I'm taken? He snarks out, showing off his wedding ring before fast walking out towards his car with his hands full.

Chores are chores. They need to be done. Dishes are easy, laundry, and vacuuming are a piece of cake. But cleaning the bathroom? Oh, that’s a bit difficult. Especially with the hidden camera he’s put out of your sight, and at times, he gets distracted; watching the many films, seeing you all naked and wet, makes Price feel... a sudden urge. How are you just so gorgeous, hm?

John is the definition of a “Pro Loyalty Card”. For all those stores he visits, he has cards for each and every single one of them, including the convenience store. They always come in handy.

Routines are his specialty; he knows everything about your schedule, to the time you leave for work, to when you call him at your lunch break, come home and collapse in his lap, all the way to sleeping in the bed naked. He’s memorized it all.

After the long antagonizing and stressful week, John always sits you down for a long bath. He massages your shoulders, using a special lotion to rub on you after the bath. But, that’s not the only gift he's giving. Before gently and lovingly pushing you to the bed, he slowly fucks the stress and irritation of you; teeth makes ensuring you stay loyal to your man.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon is quick and sleek with shopping, getting and seeking foods that have high nutrition because you only deserve the best. Most foods he picks out are healthy, getting many baskets of fruits to ensure you enjoy your lunches. But when passing by the sugar aisle, he can’t help but choose a few sweets for you.

A type of house-husband you’d never expect. He’s brooding, shoulders kept tight, wearing a black mask and hoodie as he sulks in the grocery aisles, holding the colored basket. You’d think he’s stealing with a gun hidden in his back pocket. However, when in reality, he’s taking his house duties extremely seriously as he eyes for the cereal aisle.

He wakes up way early, even before you start to stir awake, even before the sun rises and goals himself to get a good workout in. Even though he’s not the same lieutenant as he was years ago– he’s not lazy, and still picks up his pace whilst jogging down the street and doing push-ups in the open garage.

At times, he wishes you could join him, and it would be fun, would it not? Having you down below, as his chest presses against yours and your flushed face being the main goal for him to continue? Or maybe, him guiding you through pull-ups, and you need his help? Oh, that’s how to make him very desperate for you in the early mornings.

Speaking of early mornings, when you rise with his gentle shaking, whispers of “good mornin’”, and his rough stubble rubbing your neck, you realize just how lucky you are. Especially with how Riley joins in, when he notices his second favorite human is up and awake.

Though, if you decide to ignore these two, covering your face and mumbling away, Simon will crawl over you, prep your face with sloppy kisses, and murmur hot and dirty words. His hand instinctively crawling down, snapping the band of your underwear, nails barely scratching at your skin whilst promising to get you all hot and messy, before forcing you out of bed.

When you leave out of that door, regardless of the morning, he ensures the house is spotless before you come home. He doesn’t listen to any music, only the occasional barks from Riley as he sprays the leather couches, doing the dishes the “old-fashioned way”, and folding laundry like it’s a race.

Most are scared of him– except for that one lady down the road. Her eyes follow Simon as if he’s a god, but he scoffs at that when she twirls her hair. You’re the real deity, he openly thinks. Of course, he shows off his pretty wedding ring, the one you got him; and somehow, Simon wishes you’d just make out with him in public, show her that he’s off limits and that he’s yours.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

The type of househusband who immediately recognized that you needed to be cared for, and went forth with that promise between the marriage. You work so hard to make money for the both of you. And he’s devoted to doing whatever he can to be helpful too.

Kyle is a clean freak, which means the house is nearly spotless when you come home. Every scratch at the couch has him grunting and hands vigorously trying to rub it off. Shoes inside the house are immediately put up, and he hates rainy days; looking at you with glaring pupils as you step inside with soaked coverings. But, he loves you.

The chores in the house are easily done before the afternoon, dishes cleaned with shiny marks and the floors vacuumed. Dusting and sweeping the house with headphones on, face flushed whilst… listening to among things he’d never want you to find out.

Laundry is always last in line, as he tends to “borrow” a good deal of dirty underwear of yours, smelling them intensely. Don’t worry though, he returns them at some point.

Kyle is the definition of “wifey material food”. Every breakfast consists of incredible fried eggs, mixed with bacon and fluffy pancakes; lunch and dinner being different every day, which is nice. He usually sticks with foods you’re comfortable with, never going out of your zone, and tries his hardest to make different sizes of hearts out of the food.

Though, you never seem to notice the secret ingredient, the divine particular part where the two of you are bonded stronger. Such shame, he utters. Sometimes he wishes you’d come home early– catch him desperately adding it within the dish with utter lewd excitement.

Having you come home is the best time of the day. Waiting by the door, wearing the cactus green apron you got him years ago, with a giant smile and dinner laid out, waiting for you. By the end of dinner, you’re full; both of love, and much suffocation of affection.

All the other housewives in the area love him. They often invite him for yoga, or work-out sessions. But, he usually uses the excuse that you need him. You do, don't you?

Every Friday, he wears and shows off certain gifts he feels that you’ll love. You work so hard for the both of you, so he should show his appreciation, should he not? Wearing all types of risqué clothing, leaving desperate messages, and having lingerie hidden underneath his black vest, coloring his skin and outlining his scars, stretch marks, and moles. Sooner or later, it leads to a heavy cuddle-sex session that he knows you’ll love.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

The type of househusband who uses his pretty eyes and sculpted body, to get his way. Everything from seeing you at your working office and past your lunch break, to getting free food samples, all the way to a book full of coupons and all types of gifts for half the percentage.

He’s amazing at picking food at the grocery outlet, picking up the correct portions of proper protein, vegetables, and iron. And sometimes, sneaking a few donuts, pops, and tubs of ice cream he knows you love.

Johnny always wakes you up, the alarm rarely shaking you as your beloved husband knows your schedule by heart. He ensures your breakfast and lunch are ready by 7am, smirking at the added secret ingredients that he only knows.

He’s more lenient with waking you up. Knowing how you like to sleep, beauty sleep he corrects, Johnny tries to let you snooze in as far as you can, before gently stirring you up as the sun rises in the opened window.

His arms snake around your waist, cuddling up behind you whilst pulling you into his warm chest, as he nibbles on your ear and tells you to start getting up; breakfast is served on the table with awaited love. Though, if his sweet honey voice doesn’t work at this time, maybe some extremely sloppy oral will help, no?

Johnny ensures that everybody knows you’re lovingly taken. Those hickeys and bruises on your arms, and neck show just how loveable he is. He boasts about you all the time, to his then-team, cashiers and ladies on the streets. It’s only expected you do the same, yes?

Housewives and other househusbands either love him, or envy him. He’s pretty– too alluring to just be at home and caring for duties. Most women, and men constantly flaunt at his grown-out mohawk, often slicked back into a small bun and a few scars, especially one on his head, that prominent his face.

He’s still in shape, working out in the early mornings and doing yoga with the other moms; who he regularly drinks coffee with. They love how sweet and handsome the man is, especially towards his spouse.

Anyone would be lucky to have him, and many would trade a lifetime for him. But, he’s not going anywhere, not without you or your yummy neck anytime soon.

—

Masterlist || Please support me as a writer by reblogging or commenting <3

2K notes · View notes

kiramarien · 1 year ago

Text

If I got a nickel every time a cartoon I love

based on a book

based on mythology

about a teenage boy

who stumbles upon an ancient artifact that gives him powers

that's being sought by this cocky guy with daddy issues

who's right arm is mechanical some of the time

and his Dad is this massive guy with big horns (and sometimes glowy blue eye(s))

who's being manipulated by a powerful woman

that he freed from her centuries old prison

who may have had noble ambitions in the past, but now has been consumed by power

and the woman possesses a young girl in order to get what she wants

and sacrifices the lives of her minions in order to unleash her ultimate weapon ->

(Dozens of Gum Gums) (Spider Queen, Huntsman, Syntax, Goliath, Not- Mayor) You know what I'm talking about :(

and she's got this indentured servant *cough Slave cough* (with pretty gold eyes 😘)

who she refers to as "Her Champion"

who travels using shadows (I could not find a single picture of Angor Rot using his shadow staff)

who was really sweet and kind in his past but then... well... stuff happened

and has lost his right eye

and he's been killed before

but the big bad restores him back to life so she can use him

and he gets a redemption arc at the end of season three

and the main character doesn't have a bio Dad, but he attracts plenty of father figures throughout the course of the show

and he gains a non-human form that makes him even more powerful

and him and the others gain an armor upgrade at the same time

and the girl of the team has short black hair with dyed stripes

and you know the guy with daddy issues who wanted to steal his artifact in the beginning? He becomes one of the protagonist's closest friends

and there's this gentle giant character

who becomes one of my most beloved characters of all time 💕💕💕

and he has a history of violence and trauma

and has now vowed to be a devote pacifist

but breaks his vow in order to protect the people he loves (with angry glowy eyes to boot)

and has a deep love for cats (yes, I did just do that)

...then I would have two nickels.

Which isn't very much, but it's weird that it happened twice, right?

(That last drawing was made by @jezfez81. Thank you for letting me use it!)

What the heck happened?!?! This was just supposed to be a comparison between Sandy and AAARRRGGHH!!! Where did all these comparisons come from?!?!?!?!?! WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED?!?!?!?!?!?

(this took way too long to make, please give it some love :3 )

2K notes · View notes

rottenpumpkin13 · 14 days ago

Text

A list of miscellaneous AGS + ZC fluff and shenanigans to cheer up whoever needs it

Angeal, Genesis and Sephiroth completing coloring books while drinking wine on Genesis' kitchen floor, probably gossiping, bonus points if Genesis has a face mask and Sephiroth's nails are painted black.

A photo from the time Angeal accused Zack and Cloud of being attached at the hip, so they decided to prove him right by literally tying themselves together. The two of them went around like that, laughing and stumbling over each other as they tried to go about their day.

The time Zack and Cloud tried a hot sauce and completely lost it. Zack's head was buried in the fridge while Cloud chugged an entire carton of milk.

In Angeal's kitchen, Zack and Genesis bickering over who deserves the last slice of cheesecake while Sephiroth slips it without them noticing.

A photo of Sephiroth wearing one of Genesis' hoodies—unbeknownst to him it has little cat ears on the hood.

A photo of Cloud falling asleep on the couch during movie night, his head leaning on Zack's shoulder, who doesn't dare move a muscle.

Genesis has the habit of sprawling across his friends; laps, slumping over their shoulders, leaning against them. When they casually return the gesture—Angeal's arm over his shoulders, Sephiroth resting his head on him—Genesis is pleased.

Angeal and Sephiroth attempting to build a bookshelf without the instructions because "we know what we're doing" even though Genesis warned them. Hours later, they end up with a table.

Angeal making terrible dad jokes, with Sephiroth laughing hard at every single one. Genesis quotes poetry regularly, and Sephiroth does his best to guess its source—it's their little game.

A photo of Zack lifting Cloud Lion King style so he can reach the top shelf in the kitchen.

A photo of Sephiroth, wearing glittery silver eyeshadow after letting Genesis try out a palette on him, quietly sipping a juice box while watching Genesis work on Zack's eyes (by request).

Sephiroth and Genesis know how difficult Angeal's childhood was, so whenever they eat together, they make a point of scraping their plates clean. Zack does it too, even once trying to eat a corn cob whole just to impress Angeal.

Zack drags everyone to a midnight ramen shop, and Sephiroth, exhausted, falls asleep on the table—and then conveniently wakes up the moment the ramen is served. As Genesis put it, it was like watching a computer boot up.

The hide and seek game Zack organized. Sephiroth found Genesis. Genesis claimed he "wasn't even playing." Genesis was underneath a desk.

Security camera footage of Zack and Cloud commandeering a table from Angeal's apartment for a blanket fort. You'd assume someone would intervene, but a minute later, the camera catches Sephiroth walking out with a stack of blankets.

Sephiroth has sound sensitivity, so Angeal discreetly covers his ears in loud crowds. He does the same for Genesis, who is prone to headaches and always carries medicine with him.

A photo Genesis took of Angeal casually going around with Zack strapped to his back in a baby sling.

The time Sephiroth attempted to teach Angeal meditation techniques to soothe his anxiety, only for Genesis to walk in, start yelling and complaining about the line at the coffee shop, while handing them caffeinated drinks that would only spike their anxiety.

When Angeal instinctively grabs Sephiroth and Genesis' hands to cross the street, they complained at first, but now they reach for his arms without hesitation.

When Angeal arranged a "wellness circle" to help everyone "destress," it quickly devolved into a heated debate and accusations over who keeps throwing wet balls of toilet paper on the ceiling in the men's room. No seriously. Angeal tried to squash it by having everyone write the names of the culprits on slips of paper and put them in a bowl. Every single name that came up was some variation of Zack, Genesis, and one Sephiroth.

A photo of when Angeal organized a game of "capture the flag" at SOLDIER, with the flag being red. The photo shows Sephiroth holding Genesis on his hip as he and Angeal argue, because in Sephiroth's logic, Genesis could be the flag.

Zack trying to explain social media slang to Sephiroth, who refuses to use "tight" to say something is cool. Genesis then tries teaching him to use "cunt" as an alternative and Sephiroth damn near clutches his pearls.

A photo of Zack and Cloud arm-wrestling in the cafeteria, both grunting and struggling while in the background Sephiroth and Genesis are experimenting by adding maple syrup over pasta.

A photo Angeal took in his kitchen—Genesis braiding Sephiroth's hair while he eats a bowl of cereal.

Zack casually mentioning he’d never had Banora White pie, and Genesis immediately dropping everything, dragging him off base and up to his apartment to make an apple pie from scratch.

A photo of Sephiroth having a laughing fit on a mission, rosy-cheeked and grinning because, while crossing a river, a fish jumped out and slapped Angeal in the face.

Angeal burrowing into Genesis, pulling him close and squishing him after a bad day, pressing kisses to his forehead.

Genesis and Sephiroth high-fiving each other, missing, and slapping each other in the face. Angeal making them get eye exams afterward.

Genesis trying to part an apple into five perfect slices for Angeal, Sephiroth, Cloud, Zack, and himself. They all insist it's fine and that he doesn't need to bother, but Genesis insists, because so long as there is breath in his body those apples will be shared.

A photo of Sephiroth trying a really sour candy, unable to mask his discomfort, his tongue sticking out in an exaggerated grimace.

A photo Sephiroth took of Angeal casually browsing the cereal aisle, holding a box of granola in one hand while Zack and Cloud sit inside the shopping cart trading SOLDIER cards.

If you're wondering how they both fit, please note Zack has a bag of rice in his lap and Cloud is surrounded by frozen items.

On the same trip, Genesis insisted Sephiroth get inside a cart and started pushing him around, laughing as they did so. They almost got kicked out when Genesis knocked over an apple display.

A photo of Sephiroth crouched down in a dimly lit alleyway in the slums, gently petting a stray cat that's seeking shelter from the rain.

On the same outing, Genesis is sitting cross-legged on the wet ground, reading aloud from one of his books to the same stray cat. The cat is clearly enjoying the sound of his voice and curls up next to him, purring softly

Group hugs where Angeal manages to wrap his arms around all of them at once.

A candid photo Sephiroth took of Angeal effortlessly hoisting Genesis over his shoulder, carrying him while Genesis flails dramatically, half-laughing, half-protesting.

Wearing each others clothes randomly (Zack and Cloud do it so often they basically share a closet). Sephiroth wearing Angeal's hoodies, Genesis preferring Sephiroth's pajamas, Zack wearing Cloud's jacket, Cloud wearing all of Zack's tees.

A photo, probably taken by Lazard, that captures Genesis reading aloud to the group. They're draped around him like cats in a pile of limbs. Sephiroth is half-draped over Genesis' lap, Angeal's head rests on Genesis' shoulder, Zack is sprawled on the floor but his head is on Genesis' other leg while he cuddles Cloud.

Sephiroth going to Genesis for help and advice, Genesis being sweet and genuine and listening, fully prepared to solve the problem for Sephiroth himself.

Genesis using Angeal as a pillow and Sephiroth as a blanket; a regular occurrence.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #genesis rhapsodos #angeal hewley #zack fair #crisis core #cloud strife

166 notes · View notes

traumawhomst · 2 months ago

Text

The Songbird

Yandere Adoptive Fae King Dad & Child Reader

Part One

King Solaris was in a foul mood, today marked three years since his youngest daughter left to go study with the Northern Sea Witch and he missed her terribly. While three years is not much long to a fae, for a father it seemed an eternity. His court was as it always was, laughter and screams, dancing and bleeding, the same faces, the same smells and he was bored of it all.

“Father,” said his eldest son, watching his father’s tail lash back and forth as he sat on his throne, “might I suggest that you might go for a walk? How long has it been since you’ve been in the crossroads? Surely better to patrol them then stay to stew in your restlessness?”

The King sighed heavily, his flame orange cape draped over the left side of the throne. “Your sister hasn’t written yet,” he said, eyes still on the writhing mass of his court in front of him. His hand moved from propping up his chin to covering his heart, “I should go and see her.”

“Father,” said the eldest son, struggling not to implore the sky herself, “She has not missed a single day of letters, we both know that it will come. Stop sitting like a house cat and find something to take your mind off it until it comes.”

The King sighed even more loudly because he knew his son was right, with a flick of his wrist his cape turned into an emerald green hunter’s jacket standing up. He turned to face his son, seeing the crowd in the reflection of his eyes. His son was taller than him now and it brought a great pride to him. “I leave you to watch til I return my son,” he said with a slight head bow.

His son fully bowed his head, laurel green curls falling past sharp black horns, his hand over his heart, “Thank you for the honor father,” he said.

Solaris couldn’t stop a soft smile thinking of the same boy he brought home all those years ago. He reached out ruffling his sons hair, laughing at the slightly annoyed look his son gave as he stood up height again.

“See you soon father,” said Callan, a touch more dry than before. The King laughed again, turning and completely disappearing from the court.

It had been a while since he’d been in the cross-lands where human and fae territory overlapped. The human area changed from time to time, no one knew where the crossroads would be, and when that would change. When he reached the other side, he found it to be in he same place it had been about fifty years, he counted the years in a tree nearby. It was an early summer day where all the birds and insects were singing together but they knew well enough that the King was not in a fair mood and so went silent in respect.

The King stalked forward hands in his pockets as his mind wandered over the state of the forest, feeling how much closer the humans had settled nearby. He could smell them, even this far away and it irked him more with each passing second. It was odd for the boarder to stay for so long, usually half the time it had been here. He hadn’t cursed a town in quite a while. It might be a good way to bring back respect the humans seemed prone to do.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of a thin reedy but full hearted singing. He clicked his tongue out loud, listening closer to realize it was a human whelp that was singing.

A child should know better than to be loud when the forest is silent. Where is it’s guardian to keep it safe? Or do the humans think we so weak to not show our teeth?

It was an easy task, show himself and play with them a bit, see if they were smarter than their parents. Maybe he’d turn them to a songbird since they seemed to love their voice. A lesson to neglectful parents about teaching your child to walk around the forest alone, as if they owned it.

He did admit that the child did have a rather sweet voice, and he had thoughts of shaping them something into more than just a simple songbird, maybe one that could also speak and mimic. Something he could put in a glass birdcage and listen to when he was bored.

The child was bent over in the dirt, singing some old folk song, hair loosely back dirty and sweaty. Who knows when they last had a bath, the King scoffed internally. Their clothes not much better much too big, covered in a thick layer of dirt. It all only strengthened his resolve to turn them to a songbird they would be treated much better than they were currently.

He stepped into the forest clearing, the air around them both growing thick and wild, a smell of hot summer grass hung like a cloud. The King watched motionless with a smile as the hunched figure froze in place, smart child to know when they were outmatched, no grand heroics or disrespect. The child lifted their face, and the King was oddly pleased, it was cleaner than their hair and he could that the child had spent most of their life facing towards the sun. Their eyes looked the same as a fawn caught in the sight line of a wolf, but their mouth was turned into a hesitant smile.

The King cocked his head to the side at the child’s smile, before he could say a word the child spoke.

“Hello,” they said, their voice soft with a slight tremor but a distinct note of hope, “what’s your name?”

With those simple four words, the Solaris knew that this was to be his third child. A neglected songbird, but with a quick wit and curiosity that spoke of greater things than their tiny village. He wanted to scoop them up, and tell of all the great things they would see and do. But this was not his first time bringing a child of his own. So he smiled as he knelt to be closer to the eye-line. of the child.

“You, songbird, may call me, Solaris, may I know what you to call you songbird?”

When the child’s face brightened, any hesitation was gone, this child was his and he couldn’t wait to bring them home.

#yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #platonic yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #can be read as platonic or romantic #child reader #yandere adoptive dad #*drops this and runs*#heyyy guyys #my life has been kind of on fire but things seem to be slowly looking up #I can't promise what will be next will be anytime soon I've had a hard time writing but I'm going to keep trying #also I have no beta so please let me know if I misspelled or have a grammar error #you guys get to meet half of the sibling duo and will meet the other sooner than later #what do you think of our prince?#byeeeeeee

234 notes · View notes

elsm44 · 5 months ago

Text

friends? what friends?

club!ellie x fem!reader (dni -18)

you and ellie meet at a club after your friends ditch, only she has a few things in mind that might make your night a little better… 🌚

warnings: nsfw, cunnilingus, some dirty talk, a little boob stuff, lots of pet names, lowkey in public…, that’s it i think (also not proofread)

the blue club lights gave a rough shadow and outline to every body in the place. loud rap music bounced off the walls, enough to give you a headache if you focused on the noise long enough. pushing through the crowd, you were calling your friends’ names, who were no where to be found.

“callie? mason? liv?” it was no use over the music, but you tried again anyway. “callie?” you yelled louder. “mason? liv?”

people just whipped their heads around and stared at you like it was your fault you ended up in this mess. you told your friends you had to use the bathroom and they swore they’d stay in one spot while you were gone. when you got back? they were gone. again. not the first time this happened, and definitely not the last. you really need to get better friends, you thought.

you decided it was time to get some high ground so you worked your way up to the second floor of the club and scanned your eyes across the room. no sign of them, and not a single idea where they could’ve ended up. usually there was a clue, but this time there wasn’t.

“all alone princess?” a low voice questioned from behind you.

princess?

“excuse me?” you turned yourself around and made eye contact with likely one of the most attractive women you’d ever seen. the dim lighting carved out her toned muscles and made her stare even that more piercing, making your knees a little weak. you pretend you haven’t noticed that feeling as you wait for her response.

“did someone leave you alone? ‘ya look like you’re lookin’ for someone. hm?” the woman leaned against the railing on her back with her elbows holding her up, beer in hand. you examined her face more: the gorgeous freckles sprawled out across her face, her button nose, her full (and kissable) lips, and her hair, tied back half-up-half-down. her outfit was less than underwhelming, but she found a way to make it sexy as all hell: a black hoodie, some black cargo pants, and shoes you couldn’t quite make out under the dark lighting. you did notice the rings on her fingers though, which made your knees even weaker.

“you checkin’ me out?”

you hadn’t realized you were in such a daze. “hm?” you snap out of it, and realize you were shamelessly looking at her hands.

“where are your people, baby?”

you shake your head in anger, honestly livid enough to start crying. “i have no fucking clue. but at this point i don’t care. fuck ‘em.” you roll your eyes and run a hand through your hair.

“just like that, huh? what’s your name mama?” the woman looks you over, examining your tight black tube dress and your silver heels. your silver jewelry accented you beautifully in the blue light, and everything added together was enough to make her swoon. not to mention your scent.

you sighed. “y/n. you?”

she smiles. “that’s a real pretty name, but i’m still gonna call you mama, yeah? i’m ellie.” you try to hide your smile at her shameless flirting.

“promise you won’t ditch me like my asshole friends?”

ellie leans down and in so close to your ear, her lips could brush against you. “i would never mama. now let’s get you a beer, hm? or are you classier than that?” she leans back and smirks.

you two make your way through the crowd to the bar and order two new beers, one for each of you, since she finished hers on your way back downstairs. you sat down on the barstools and began to tell little things about yourselves.

she learned you were a sophomore in college, hoping to make it to the big leagues as a film director. you have a cat named simon, you love lily flowers, and you especially love women.

you learned she’s also a sophomore, a full-time astrophysics student (hello? fuck me already). her dad died about two years back, she’s a stoner, and also, evidentially, loves women.

ellie leaned down to your ear again, this time almost kissing it as she spoke, “why don’t we go downstairs to the lounge? there’s bound to be less people there, yeah?” she leans back and raises an eyebrow, you can only nod because of the rush washing over you.

down at the lounge, surprisingly, there was only two other people there, and they were on the other side of the room. you could only imagine what activities they were up to over there. ellie grabs your hand, “c’mon mama.”

she sits you two down on a round booth and sets your beers down for you two, which she willingly carried downstairs herself. you two sit next to each other, and for just a moment stare into each others’ eyes drunkenly.

“i’m so glad my friends ditched me, ellie.”

“yeah? why’s that, hm?” she smiled and began to rub your thigh, draped over her lap, with her warm hand. the frigidness of her rings made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“‘cause i wouldn’t be able to do this.” you climbed on top of her lap and almost immediately her hands grasped your waist, like it was where they were meant to be all along.

she smirked at this little game you started. “and i wouldn’t be able to do this.” she whispers before latching her lips to your neck. you gasp and flip your hair over to one side so that the area is free for her to work with. you let little breathy moans out and they lead straight to her eardrums, which make her suck on your skin harder.

“i know, y/n. let it out quietly.”

her words of comfort made you weaker on top of her. her hands around your waist went from just touching you because she wanted to to having to hold you steady. she pulled away and finally latched her lips to yours.

she tasted like vanilla chapstick, and her lips were soft and warm. you had missed making out with someone, but this time it was different. it felt right.

both of your breathing both picked up as the making out became sloppier and sloppier, her hands exploring your body. her crotch pushed up against your pussy, which was now only covered by your thin layer of panties under your dress. you pulled back to look around for a second.

“we should go to a bathroom.”

“nah, let’s stay right here mama. is everyone else gone?”

you looked down at her, out of breath, and hummed yes in response. she admired the bruising beginning to form on your neck before answering back to you.

“okay, we can stay here then. yeah?”

“yeah.” your answer was breathy, and you noticed the way you squirmed under her hands, which were pushing you down on to her pants even more. “ellie…”

she immediately kissed your lips again but quickly trailed kisses down your neck and to your chest. she pulled your tube dress down a little to expose your breasts and sucked on your nipples.

she swirled her tongue around each one, taking her time. she pinched the other while very gently nibbling on you, making you moan softly into her ear. her other hand trailed down to in between your legs and up your dress, rubbing your pussy slowly.

“mm..” was all you could get out as she slowly drew circles around your clothed clit.

“i wanna hear you say my name baby.” you could again, only moan in response.

she finally pulls back and says, “here, mama. climb off for a sec.” you climb off of her in confusion, thinking you did something wrong. slowly, ellie crawled and made her way under the table. “c’mere baby.” she waved her fingers for you to move up.

she pulled your legs apart and slowly moved your panties to the side. she quietly moaned at the sight of your bare pussy right in front of her face. it was perfect, every inch of it, and she couldn’t be more excited to make it pulse on her tongue.

without warning, she dove in. she swirled her tongue and sucked on your sensitive bud, causing you to have to hold a hand over your mouth, knowing someone could walk in at any second. you used your other hand to pull your dress up just in case, and then let it find its way down to ellie’s hair.

ellie sucked and licked and flicked her tongue on you like you were her final meal. “i know baby, you like that, hm?” she would say as her tongue slipped in and out of your hole. using the other hand that wasn’t holding your panties to the side, she inserted a finger and began to pump in and out of your pussy.

“oh, god. ellie!” you threw your head back and ground your pussy against her tongue as she sucked harder and harder. once she threw in her second finger, it was over for you. you began to hyperventilate over all of the sensations at once and moaned under the loud music. “please!”

finally, into her mouth, your juices spilled. your body shook as she had to use both hands to hold your legs down. you were a squirming and whining mess over her. she licked your pussy clean, put your panties back into place, and climbed back up next to you, wiping her mouth with the inside of her hoodie sleeve.

“still thinking about your friends?” you giggled at her cheeky question, and kissed her one more time.

“friends? what friends?” there’s only ellie now.

a/n

ermmm this is my first time writing like this on tumblr… i hope it isn’t too bad! i’m definitely gonna write more than just smut though

#ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #joel and ellie #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #tlou part 2 #club!ellie #dom!ellie #fem!reader #lesbian #lesbiansmut

191 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Summary: Conflict arises with Harris's new teacher, filling Halloween with more tricks than treats. But it's nothing a visit with Ms. Sweetheart can't fix.

Warnings: allusion to Reader and Eddie's one-night stand, panic attack, Reader's grandma has dementia.

WC: 5.6k

Chapter 6/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Guns N’ Roses t-shirt: check. Goodwill jeans with makeshift holes in the knees: check. Bandana tied snugly around his forehead: check. Arms littered with an assortment of temporary tattoos: check.

Eddie grins as he assesses his son’s costume, reaching into the thrift store bag as he pulls out the pièce de résistance: a denim jacket, only two sizes bigger than Harris would usually wear. It was a bit over what he’d been hoping to spend, but he’d reasoned with himself that it could also be worn after Halloween. It was an investment, he’d decided, not a splurge.

His smile falters when Harris indignantly stomps his foot, crossing his arms over his chest. While Eddie had hoped his son would go with more badass tattoo options, perhaps a skull and crossbones or even a snake, he had insisted on a Sesame Street theme. Cookie Monster munches on his signature treat as Harris pouts.

“No, Daddy!” he whines, twisting away when Eddie holds the jacket closer to him. “I can’t wear that!”

“C’mon, Har,” he tries, scouring his brain to come up with a convincing enough lie. “Axl Rose wore jackets all the time!”

Harris doesn’t just shake his head; he swivels his entire body back and forth in protest. “I don’t care! No one’s gonna be able to see my tattoos!” He holds out both arms in front of him; nearly every square inch (besides the section blocked by his cast) is covered. Eddie had spent most of last night diligently applying them precisely where Harris had asked, lest there be a tantrum. There was, unfortunately, a headless Elmo from when Harris had asked–no, demanded–that he try by himself. Still, Eddie figured that only one casualty was a win.

“Those are some sweet ol’ tatties,” Eddie muses, biting back a laugh at the two-dimensional Big Bird on his son’s forearm. “But wouldn’t it be cool if you wore the jacket into school and then–BAM!--took it off and surprised everyone with them?

Harris appears to consider this, mouth tucked into his cheeks. “Can I show Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Sure, bud. We’ll stop by her classroom when I pick you up.” Whatever gets us out of the house in weather-appropriate attire. “But first, show me your most metal pose.”

The boy opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue as far as it extends, scrunching his face dramatically until the corners of his eyes crinkle. His middle and ring fingers press into his palm, thumb crossing over them, with his forefinger and pinky raised in the quintessential rock ‘n roll symbol.

Eddie swoops down and smacks a wet kiss to Harris’s cheek. “That’s my boy!”

Standing among the crowd of parents at pick-up, Eddie opts out of making banal small talk and instead chooses to look at the bulletin board. The previous art project that had been hanging against the faded blue paper–”self-portraits” that the students had made on the first day of school–have been replaced by finger paintings of orange blobs that vaguely resemble pumpkins. There wasn’t one for Harris because he was in Ms. Sweetheart’s classroom then, so it’s his first art project in his new class. He eagerly scans the board for Harris’s, frowning when he can’t find his name.

Maybe it’s still drying, he tries to convince himself, imagining his son over-saturating the paper with globs of paint. It wouldn’t be entirely out of character.

Ms. Marion’s classroom is a sea of costumed children. A boy dressed as one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles stands by his mom. A Cinderella, a black cat, and a Thomas the Tank Engine surround Ms. Paula. As soon as Eddie spots Harris, he smiles and waves him over, hurriedly scribbling his signature on the sign-out sheet.

He expects Harris to zoom past the other kids, fueled by the standard Halloween diet of sugar and chocolate, but he just kind of…mopes to the doorway. His shoulders slump dejectedly, and though he keeps his gaze low, Eddie can still see the film of mist staining his innocent eyes.

“Har, what’s wrong?” He waits for an answer, and when he doesn’t receive one–an oddity for his perpetually chatty son–he tries a new tactic. “Wanna show me where your artwork is? I must be gettin’ old, because I couldn’t find it on the board out there.”

“‘S not there,” Harris mumbles, scratching off a flaking piece of the Rosita tattoo on the back of his hand. “I didn’t get to finish.”

Eddie watches as the tears start to slip down his cheeks, and he brings him into the hallway before Ms. Marion or Ms. Paula sees what’s going on. He can’t be certain, but his paternal instincts tell him that they’ve contributed to Harris’s sad state. “Why not?”

“I-I t-tried, but M-Ms. Mar-Marion and Ms. P-Paula got m-mad at me.” The words come out between choked sobs. “‘C-Cuz I c-couldn’t sit d-down.”

“What do you mean?”

“I k-keeped st-standing up, ‘cuz m-my legs wanted to st-stand.” The explanation tumbles out of him so quickly, as though he’s trying to beat the clock. “And they s-said if I did-didn’t sit down, I c-couldn’t do art. But I k-keeped f-f-forgetting, and th-they t-taked away my pay-pay-paper and said, ‘sit in the c-corner!’”

Eddie’s breath hitches, and he has to clear his throat before speaking again. “Did…did that happen in Ms. Sweetheart’s class? The legs thing?”

“Mhm,” Harris manages, “b-but she let me stand and d-do ju-jumps to get the wig-wiggles out. She just t-t-telled me not to do ju-jumps with s-s-scissors, ‘cuz of s-safety.” His breathing increases to a rapid pace, face flushing red as his chest heaves. “B-But Ms. M-Marion ye-ye-yelled at me!”

Eddie’s brows pinch together, and he gently presses his calloused palms against Harris’s narrow shoulders, desperate to prevent him from hyperventilating. “Harris, you gotta calm down. I can’t understand you when you’re crying like this!” Despite his efforts, his frustration bleeds into his tone, and he winces when the latter sentence ends with an unwanted snap. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s just an art project.”

“Harris?”

The sound of your voice draws the attention of both Munsons. You let out a small oof as Harris flings himself against your legs, and though he practically flew the five foot distance between his father and you, now is not the time to remind him about using his walking feet.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” You crouch down, taking his hand in yours, and notice his quick, shallow breaths. “We’re gonna breathe together, okay? Eyes on me.” You demonstrate inhaling for three seconds, holding for three seconds, and exhaling for three seconds. “Now let’s do it together.”

He hesitates but ultimately follows your lead, and you guide him until his breathing slows enough for him to sputter, “I t-tried to sit, b-but I c-couldn’t.”

You haven’t the slightest idea what he’s referring to, but Eddie fills you in. You feel the heat of anger creeping through your body, not just for the way your co-worker treated the sweet boy, but for her insolent approach to teaching as a whole.

“We can go to my classroom,” you offer, silently sighing in relief when the boy nods in agreement. “I don’t know if I have the supplies to make the same project as Ms. Marion, but if you have a few minutes, you can draw something now. I bet Mr. Will would love to help you; he’s a super-duper artist.”

Just as you’d predicted, Will jumps at the opportunity to help Harris with his impromptu art project, encouraging him to draw something that makes him happy. While he does that, you comb through the mess left behind from the Halloween party you’d thrown. You’d sooner toss one hundred cupcake wrappers in the trash before attempting a conversation with Eddie Munson. He’s simply too unpredictable; kind and thoughtful one day, harsh and guarded the next.

One of the wrappers in your hand drops to the floor and you reach forward to pick it up, pinching the pleated material between your pointer and middle fingers. You can feel Eddie’s eyes on your form, the way the backs of your thighs are slightly exposed when you bend over, and you stand up quickly.

“Are you the Magic School Bus lady?” He takes in your lavender dress with planets and stars stamped all over it. Oh. He wasn’t checking you out; he was just trying to figure out who you’d dressed up as. Good. Anything else would be inappropriate.

So why does a twinge of disappointment radiate through you?

You glance at your costume; with all of the commotion, you’d forgotten you’d even been wearing one “I mean, would I even be a teacher if I didn’t jump at the chance to be Ms. Frizzle?” You motion over to Will, decked out in green from head to toe with two yellow horns glued to a headband atop his mop of brown hair. “Have you met my trusty sidekick, Liz the Lizard?”

Eddie laughs. “Yeah, Byers actually used to play in my D&D club back in high school. Made some pretty sick art pieces to liven up that dingy excuse for a room.”

You look between the two of them, trying to do the mental math. “Will, didn’t you say you’re twenty-four?” And if Eddie is thirty, that means…

“I, uh, had a little trouble graduating,” Eddie sheepishly admits, ruffling the back of his hair and offering a tight grimace. “But I got there eventually. Class of ‘86, baby!”

“Worked out for me,” Will shrugs with a grin, looking up from Harris’s drawing. “You were the best DM Hellfire ever had. Although, rumor has it that Erica Sinclair gave you a run for your money.”

Harris picks up a yellow marker, furiously scribbling a circle in the left-hand corner of his paper. You try peering over to see the whole drawing, but he presses his whole body against the table, successfully thwarting your plans. “No peeking!” he warns, not putting his feet back on the ground until you’ve averted your gaze. “‘S a surprise.”

You put your hands up in surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll be surprised.” You raise your eyebrows at Eddie, who shares a similar response in return.

“Dunno when he got so bossy,” he snorts before calling out to his son, “Har-Bear? Five more minutes. We gotta get home to trick-or-treat with Grampa Wayne.”

“Ooh, that sounds like fun!” you echo as Harris grabs a purple marker from the box. “What’s your favorite candy?”

“Hmm.” Harris uses his free hand–the one with the cast–to tap his chin, continuing to color with the other one. “M&Ms. But only the plain ones. Daddy doesn’t let me have the peanut ones ‘cause he says I could choke.”

You shoot a sly, knowing look at Eddie. “I’m sure that’s the only reason. Such a selfless father.” You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head innocently. “And what do you do with all of these confiscated peanut M&Ms, Mr. Munson? Donate them?”

Eddie tucks his lips into his mouth to mask his grin. “Listen, the jig is gonna be up at some point,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, loud enough so you can hear but soft enough that Harris can’t. “Let me enjoy my free candy while it lasts.”

“No judgment here,” you say with a small laugh, “they’re one of my favorites, too.”

“TA-DA!” Harris shouts, startling you, Eddie, and Will. He holds up the construction paper and smiles widely. To anyone without kids–or who didn’t teach preschool for a living–it would look like a bunch of colorful scribbles. But you can tell that he’s drawn a group of people standing by a tree (or a really, really tall flower) underneath the sun.

“Wow, Harris! That’s amazing!” you clap your hands together to punctuate your enthusiasm. “Who are all those people?”

Harris’s pointer finger travels left to right across the paper as he names each person: “That’s me, Grampa Wayne, Daddy, you, and Mr. Will!” The stick figure that represents you has a purple scribble on it, which you realize must be the costume you’re wearing. “An’ we’re all smiling because we’re happy!” Sure enough, each person has a curved red line at the bottom of their face. But there’s something else that catches your eye.

All of the people have a small space between them, except for you and Eddie. The circle that Harris drew to represent your left hand overlaps with the circle that is Eddie’s right.

You glance at the real Eddie, and if he notices, he doesn’t give any indication. “I love it, buddy.” He takes the drawing and inspects it closely. “Yup, this one’s definitely going on the fridge when we get home.” He flicks the paper for good measure. “Go clean up the markers so we can head out, Axl Rose.”

Among the noise of markers clattering back in the bins, you lean in to Eddie, inadvertently inhaling the scent of his cigarettes and cologne. For a brief moment, you’re transported back to the night fate had led you to cross paths; the thought of his lips on your neck in the stairwell has you clenching your thighs and swallowing thickly as you murmur, “I can ask him to make a new one with just you, him, and his grandpa.”

Eddie shakes his head. “N-No. I like this one.” He lets one hand drop to his side and it grazes yours. His rings brush your knuckles, and you instinctively draw back at the sensation of the cool metal and the zing of heat that pulses at his light touch. “Sorry,” he mumbles, not making eye contact.

“S’okay.”

He blinks a few times and redirects his attention to his son. “What do you say to Mr. Will and Ms. Sweetheart for letting you do your art project?”

Harris’s little chest swells as he inhales deeply, storing up as much oxygen as he can fit in his lungs before bellowing, “THANK YOUUUUUUU!”

Eddie brings his palm to his ear canal, rotating his forefinger as though trying to repair a punctured eardrum. “Love the enthusiasm,” he says through gritted teeth. “Seriously, though. Thank you both so much.”

“Of course,” Will says warmly, picking up the marker bin and placing it in its space on the shelf.

“Anything for Harris.” You smile, motioning towards the little boy already by his father’s side. “Have fun trick-or-treating tonight, bud! I can’t wait to hear about all the yummy candy you got.”

Harris scrunches his nose in contemplation. “Are you going trick-or-treating, Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Nah,” you laugh, “I’m gonna stay home and give candy to all the kids who come by.” And pray that Grandma doesn’t curse them out, you silently add.

“Oh.” Harris pauses, grabbing his dad’s hand. “Okay, bye!”

Eddie chuckles as his son pulls him towards the door. “That’s my cue. Um, Happy Halloween,” he adds awkwardly, waving once before disappearing down the hallway.

There’s so much more that he wants to say: you’re the best; you saved the day; you should be my son’s teacher instead of that old, bitchy bat. But he didn’t have time. Maybe another day. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Wayne arrives just a few minutes after Eddie and Harris get home. As soon as his gruff voice comes over the intercom, Harris excitedly buzzes him in. “Grampa Wayne’s here!” he yells, even though Eddie’s standing right next to him. He grabs the pillowcase from the couch; it was originally white, but after Eddie accidentally threw in a red sock with the white laundry, it’s tinted light pink.

No sooner does the older man cross the threshold into the apartment, Harris is trying to drag him out again. “Let’s go, before all the good candy is gone!” he whines. His eyebrows pinch together and he drops his grandfather’s hand. “Oh, wait, I gotta show you something.” He scampers off into the kitchen, and Wayne winces when he hears the rattle of magnets falling to the floor.

“I’m okay!” Harris calls out, running back with a piece of paper in his hand. “Look what I drawed at school today!” He gives Wayne the rundown of who’s who.

Wayne analyzes each person in the picture, stopping at the overlapping circles between you and Eddie. “This is great, Har-Bear,” he muses. “Are, um, are Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart holding hands?”

“Mhm,” Harris casually confirms, taking the drawing back. “‘Cause they’re married.”

Eddie chokes on air as Wayne does a double-take. “Congrats, Ed,” he jokes, clapping a hand to his nephew’s shoulder. “Gotta say, I thought I’d at least get an invite.”

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles, rolling his eyes. “Harris, why do you think that Ms. Sweetheart and I are married?” He wracks his brain for answers, but he can’t come to a logical conclusion. Did I talk about her in my sleep? Oh, shit, what if it was when I had that dream—

“Because you gived her a present,” Harris says, eyes innocent and wide. “And when grown-ups love each other, they give each other presents.”

“Oh, he gave Ms. Sweetheart a present, huh?” On the surface, Wayne’s words are as innocuous as Harris’s, but Eddie hears the teasing buried just beneath.

Harris nods. “Mhm. He gived her a tape!”

“It was the Toni Braxton one that she came into the shop for…that day that, uh…” Eddie raises his eyebrows at his uncle, who nods in acknowledgment. He brings his focus back to his son. “It doesn’t mean that we’re married. People have to go on dates and fall in love before they get married.”

The young boy absorbs this information. “So you should go on dates and fall in love with Ms. Sweetheart!” His face lights up at the idea of it, and it breaks Eddie’s heart to let him down.

So, he doesn’t.

“Why don’t you hang that back up so we can get outta here and get you some candy, huh?” He forces a smile and watches his son scamper into the kitchen before turning back to Wayne and shaking his head.

Harris peels a magnet off of the fridge, the one Eddie bought him on their Daddy-Son day. It has a sea lion balancing a beach ball on its snout, with HAWKINS ZOO printed in bolded letters along the bottom.

Lowering his voice to a whisper, he speaks directly to his drawing. “When Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart fall in love and get married, I’ll finally have a mommy.” He presses his hand flat against the paper as though he’s sealing in the wish. He stays like that for a moment until his dad calls his name, and he clutches his pillow case as they head out the door.

Eddie assumes that the love and marriage talk is done for the evening, but the feeling of relief doesn’t last long. The trio of Munson men is halfway down the stairwell when Wayne starts instigating. “Hey, Har, is Ms. Sweetheart pretty?”

“WAYNE!” Eddie grits his teeth and shoots a sharp look at his uncle. The last thing he needs is for Harris to get his hopes up about a blossoming romance between his dad and his former teacher.

“Oh, yeah!” Harris gleefully agrees, oblivious to the mounting tension. He grips the railing and jumps from the second to last step onto the tiled landing below. “Super pretty! Like a princess.”

The eldest Munson turns to Eddie. “Didja hear that? Pretty like a princess.”

“I heard him,” Eddie replies tersely.

“Daddy?”

No. Don’t ask me. Harris Wayne Munson, do not ask me what I think you’re going to—

“Do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty?”

Although he anticipated the question, Eddie still freezes. If he disagrees, Harris will inevitably want to know why not. And if he’s being honest with himself, he can’t name a single ugly thing about you.

He does think you’re pretty. He thinks you’re beautiful. Gorgeous. Stunning. And even though he’s literally seen you naked, fully on display for him–a memory he revisits more often than he’s willing to admit–it’s the thought of what you did today that solidifies your beauty. The way you’d effortlessly calmed Harris down without Eddie even having to ask. The frown on his face almost instantly became a smile, the flow of his tears ceasing and turning into the giggles that brought sunlight into Eddie’s life. You did that.

Any woman can be sexy, but you? In that moment, you were perfect.

Fuck.

“Daddy? Hello?”

At the sound of Harris’s voice, Eddie realizes that he physically hasn’t moved from his spot on the stairs. His hand is gripping the banister so tightly that it leaves an imprint in his palm. “Yeah, buddy,” he manages through his Sahara Desert throat. “I think Ms. Sweetheart’s pretty.”

“Like a princess?” Wayne’s eyes twinkle mischievously. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to tease his nephew about a crush, and he’s not passing up this limited opportunity.

“Yeah. Like a princess.”

Education outsiders might think that Halloween is one of the worst days to be a teacher. The lethal combination of sugar and excitement barely contained in tiny costumed bodies seems like a recipe for disaster. But any teacher worth their salt will tell you that there is a day far, far worse than Halloween: November 1st.

On Halloween, there is the expectation for fun. There’s a costume parade, classroom trick-or-treating, and even a little party. The kids are out of control, but who cares? It’s Halloween.

But on November 1st, there is work to be done. And you’re expected to teach the months of the year to 10 four-year-olds who are suffering from candy hangovers and won’t stop asking why they can’t go trick-or-treating again today.

You and Will are preparing for battle as students trickle in, excited to show off the candy stashes they acquired the night before. Abby Carver cries because she ate her Reese’s cup and now she’s sad that it’s gone. Joshua Harrington is continuing to “sling webs” at the other kids despite your incessant reminders that he is no longer Spider-Man. A fight over a KitKat bar breaks out not even five minutes into the day, and you confiscate it before someone causes serious bodily harm.

Two fingers lightly tap on your shoulder—too high up to be a kid—and you whirl around with an irritated, “what?”

“Whoa,” Eddie says, concern etched into his otherwise soft features. He takes a small step back, nearly tripping over a rogue Lego that somehow made its way out of the toy area. He stumbles but catches his balance easily. “Everything okay?”

“‘S a warzone out here,” you try and joke, but you feel it fall flat. You’re too tired for humor. Grandma may not have yelled at the trick-or-treaters like you’d feared, but she did get increasingly angrier with each knock on the door. After the fifth time of her snarling at you to “shut the hell up” (like you could simultaneously be on both sides of the door), you’d relented and just put the candy bowl on the welcome mat, scribbling “TAKE ONE” on a yellow sticky note, adhering it to the plastic container.

Two decades earlier, Halloween at Grandma’s house had a completely different connotation. She’d have a little pizza party all set up for you, and she’d buy a big bag of your favorite candy, in case you didn’t get enough during your door-to-door quests. And she’d always let you watch whatever spooky movie your heart desired, regardless of your parents’ rules.

“That’s what grandmas are for,” she’d said with a wink, and the two of you curled up to watch Little Shop of Horrors. Her demeanor matched the hokey magnet on her fridge that read, If I knew how fun my grandkids would be, I would’ve had them first. You’d stay like that until you both fell asleep, only being roused by your parents arriving to pick you up. The good old days, before Grandma waking up involved watching the confusion in her eyes as she tried and failed to place you.

“C-Can I help you with something?” Your guard goes up immediately when you notice that Harris isn’t with him. The time you’d spent together after school yesterday had been nice, fun, even, but you couldn’t trust that today would be the same. Not after what happened a few short weeks ago.

“I, um…I just swung by to give you this.” He reaches into the inner pocket of his denim jacket; it’s the same one that he lent to Harris when he’d forgotten his at home. A flash of yellow paper catches your eye, and he unfurls his palm to reveal a small bag of peanut M&Ms. “You said they were one of your favorites, right?”

You look at the treat, not willing to reach out and grab it. What if it’s a joke? An elaborate ploy to reel you in, just to shout “gotcha” when you finally let your walls come down?

“Are they poisoned or something?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest. “Did you spike them with Ex-Lax?”

Eddie’s lips part in surprise before he collects himself. “Guess I deserve that,” he mumbles. “But, no. They’re not. I swear on James Hetfield’s life.” He drags his fingernail over his heart in an X-formation.

You take the bag, inspecting it for any sign of tampering, but you come up short. The edges are sealed, and there are no pinpricks as far as your eyes can see. “Dipped into Harris’s stash for me?”

“Hey, these bad boys are technically mine for the taking until he figures out that he can eat them without dying.” Eddie chuckles lightly, peering at you through impossibly long lashes. “But, yeah, I was hoping you’d accept these as part of my apology. Or apologies, I guess. For, uh, for not calling when I said I would, and all of the awful shi—awful things I said to you.” His voice is barely above a whisper as he steps closer and says, “I am so fucking sorry.”

You make a small tear in the bag, tapping it against your palm until an M&M falls out. Popping the blue candy in your mouth, you allow the shell to start dissolving on your tongue before crunching on the peanut, hoping you can process what he’s said by the time you’re finished chewing.

This is what you’ve been waiting for—an actual heartfelt apology. His brown eyes reflect nothing but shame and remorse, and you can tell by the way that he’s fidgeting with his rings that he’s anxiously awaiting your reply.

His vulnerability softens you slightly, and considering you haven’t keeled over after ingesting the candy, you throw him a bone.

“This fun size bag covers the ‘not calling’ part, but I’m gonna need a lot more candy if you want me to forgive you for what you said at the music store.” You keep your tone light; teasing, even, but there’s a layer of truth to it. He can’t merely waltz into your classroom with a gift and expect you to forget his hurtful words.

Eddie nods, his frizzy curls brushing the tops of his denim-clas shoulders. “I know. I’ve said some pretty terrible things in my life, but that might’ve been the worst. And, um,” he fumbles his words, desperately searching for the right ones. Semantics has never been his forte. “You didn’t deserve that. It’s not true; your grandma didn’t want to forget you. And…neither do I.” When you raise your eyebrows, he starts to backtrack. “Because you’re so great with Harris; like, you understand him and stuff. He’s always talking about you.”

Daddy, do you think Ms. Sweetheart is pretty? The question replays like a song he can’t shake from his head, its melody familiar but the notes still keeping him on edge. Pretty like a princess, only instead of saving her, I’m the one who needs to be rescued. So much for Prince Charming, huh?

The M&M melts in your mouth while you formulate a response to his candid admission. Sweetness seeps into your taste buds as you try to straddle the line between careful consideration and overthinking. Speak too quickly and you might say something you’ll regret. Take too long and you’ll make this even more awkward.

“W-Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Short, simple, to the point. Your words are slightly slurred by the candy obstruction, but what else is there to say? You could add that you forgive him, but you’re truthfully not sure that you do. His words scarred, had taken your already mangled self-worth and snapped it into pieces, and so did his reasoning for hurting you. Despite the love and kindness you’d shown his son, Eddie had fully believed that you were responsible for spreading personal information that would wound him. It was exactly as Jeff had said: Eddie struck below the belt at the first sign of conflict, so determined to protect himself that he didn’t even realize that he was attacking the people on his side.

The sound of books clattering to the floor snatches your attention from him, and you whip your head to your little classroom library to see two kids standing over a pile of fallen books, guilty looks stamped on their faces. “I’ve gotta go,” you blurt out, dashing off to assess the damage. You’ve never been so grateful for your students causing mischief.

The hour hand crawls to the number two; at one point, you swore the clock was moving backwards. The chaos of the morning was only a preview of the rest of the day’s fiascos, but you and Will had navigated as best as you could.

“Jesus,” he murmurs once the kids have all been dismissed, gingerly rubbing his temples, “that was brutal. I can handle the day after Halloween; I can handle Fridays, but when they coincide? Nope, never again.” He slumps into a chair dramatically, letting his arms drape over the sides.

“Gonna have a glass of wine when you get home?” you joke, wiping Play-Doh residue from a tabletop.

Will nods. “Or a whole bottle.” His focus shifts to your desk, and he nods his chin in that direction. “I see you have something to look forward to tonight, too.”

You follow his gaze, widening your eyes when you see the object he’s referring to. A bag of peanut M&Ms–much bigger than the one you’d inhaled this morning–sits on top of your desk calendar; resting next to it is a cassette. You walk over, curiosity getting the better of you. The cassette is Guns N’ Roses’ Appetite for Destruction; you recognize the iconic cover as soon as it comes into view. It’s not your usual music choice, but you’ll listen to almost anything.

There’s a piece of paper taped to the giant yellow M&M bag, folded in equal triads. Messily scrawled across the front in black ink is Ms. Sweetheart. You gently pull the adhesive loose and open the letter, nervously running your forefinger across the irregular edge where it was obviously torn from a composition notebook.

Fun size mistake=fun size bag of candy

Family size mistake=family size bag of candy

I’m really good at fucking things up, but really bad at fixing them. I wish I could say that I didn’t mean to hurt you, but we both know that I did.

You don’t have to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am.

-Eddie

P.S. Not sure if hard rock is your thing, but I saw this at work and it reminded me of the kindness you showed our favorite little Axl Rose yesterday.

“Who’s it from?” Will asks, breaking into your thoughts. “A secret admirer?” He brings his clasped hands to his cheek in mock dreaminess.

You manage a laugh as you fold the note back up and tuck it under the calendar. “If it is, he’s really bad at it, because he signed his name.” When did he even sneak in here to do this? Kind of scary that someone could walk in and you didn’t even notice.

“Aha! So it is a guy!” Will pumps his fist triumphantly, though you’re not quite sure what he thinks he’s won.

“Just Eddie Munson, thanking us for letting Harris draw here yesterday.”

It’s not a total lie, but Will sees right through it. “Uh-huh. Thanking us? So that note is also for me? Can I read it?” He starts towards your desk, outstretched hand reaching towards where you’d tried to hide it, but you playfully swat them away.

You glance at the clock and frown. “If you leave a little early, I won’t tell anyone.”

Will flips you off; over the last two months, you two had developed a sibling-esque relationship that came out more once the kids had left for the day. He grabs his backpack from the supply closet and slings it over his shoulders. “You’re lucky I’m exhausted, or I’d stick around and keep bothering you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, knowing full well that he’s itching to leave regardless. “Gotta save up your energy for when Marshall visits.”

Will blushes at the mention of his long-distance boyfriend’s name. He still wasn’t out to many people, but when you’d casually mentioned the date Jess had with a girl named Robin, he’d felt comfortable opening up to you. “I can’t wait!” His grin is so wide you swear it’ll stretch right off of his face. “Thanks again; you’re the best.”

That leaves you alone with your gigantic bag of candy, a Guns N’ Roses cassette, and an apology that you have no idea what to do with.

Once again, Eddie Munson has given you more questions than answers.

taglist:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @krahk @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @theactualf0ck @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights @eggo-segual @rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @luceneraium @lolly-in-a-strange-land @dylanmunson @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @imaginexred @haylaansmi @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @stevesmunson @hiscrimsonangel @ffrvtvt @mrsjellymunson @idkatee @quentinswife

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

2K notes · View notes

dreamskug · 7 months ago

Text

[ SUBJECT INTERVIEW: ÍVARR ]

NICKNAME:

NOT "Gramps". Not for you, anyway. Just my name.

GENDER:

Male.

STAR SIGN:

Why, checking if we’d match? Hah. Was told I’m a Scorpio. 'That check out?

HEIGHT:

With platforms or without?

ORIENTATION:

If we vibe, nothing else matters. An incubus with neat taste in personalities, I guess.

NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY:

So, some Scandinavian blood in me - half, actually. Can speak the language, too - 'least something neat daddy gave me, not that the fucker's outdone himself in parenting. Mom’s an American, born in Badlands. Ever heard of her clan? Messed with witchcraft a lot, and summoning even more. Know what I’m getting at? A perfect fuckin' match, weren't they?

FAVE FRUIT:

- Yeah no. Don't even start with anything citrus. Especially don't peel this shit in front of me, alright? Nasty shit. [Interviewer]: - Just wondering, how do you feel about cardboard boxes? [Ívarr] : - Ain't purring for you, man. But nice one.

FAVE SEASON:

Fuck summer. You ever felt what's that like - the real winter nights? Pitch fuckin' dark - quiet so thick you hear the snow falling. First time I saw those snowflakes as a kid - can swear I thought they were bees.

FAVE FLOWER:

Cherry blossoms? The fuck I know, man. Ask my mainline, I grab whatever he likes.

FAVE SCENT:

Expecting me to be like - "Muahaha, the smell of fear"? Seriously, it's apparently a pheromone released in your sweat or some shit. C'mon I'm joking, it isn't my fav - keeps stinking up this damn city. Alright, a freshly baked cake is something I'd kill for.

COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:

Yeah coffee I guess? Rich, strong, black, with a splash of something fun, make it whiskey.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

Woke up just yesterday 'cause my mainline was pulling back my eyelid, imagine? Scared the fuck out of him, no seriously, can sleep through a fuckin' bomb and I'm not joking. Average hours - a shitton honestly? That's how I got my very first cat - Dad got enough of me breaking down every single morning, cause fuck mornings. And he'd be like - this is Snowy, she's gonna live with us and she already had her breakfast, so get the fuck up. How'd I argue with Snowy? You don't mess with Snowy.

DOG OR CAT PERSON:

See? Check it out - cat fur. Here too. I'm claimed, man - gave up cleaning it up a long time ago. Not to be dramatic, but if there's anything human in me left - it's for them. Fur kids, all mine, what can I say. Two of them adopted - and you bet each of them has a bigger personality than an average gonk.

DREAM TRIP:

Dream trip, jeez... Somewhere not fucking hot?

FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER:

Balrog has style, y'know? Gotta be honest, I feel for the dude. Imagine yourself sleeping deep within the mountains for thousands of years to get awoken by a bunch of motherfuckers? I'd go nuclear too. And this one too, ehh you know GoT? The Targaryen, her, yeah. Burn them all, girl. Boss move.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH:

Man, your questions. I dunno, a half? With my ass covered, or not at all. Bed king sized, lights out, make it pitch black with the window open and you got me passed out.

RANDOM FACT:

One doesn't have to actually summon a demon to get them to come play, d'you know? There's one watching you through my eyes right fuckin' now. Should I introduce him?

Late to the party, but I remember many of y'all have more than one OC or just created new pixel babies that haven't participated yet, so I'm tagging (with no pressure):

@therealnightcity @wraithsoutlaws @sammysilverdyne @theviridianbunny @th3irin

@a-pirate @chessalein @halkuonn @luvwich @shimmer-like-agirl

@kdval @cybersteal @cyberholic77 @chevvy-yates @morganlefaye79

@anxious--ace @mhbcaps @wormskul @silver-samurai @androgymess

@winkyblinkyandstew @astarionhistears @valsilverhand @drunkchasind @themermaidriot

@pinkyjulien @skelior @medtech-mara @lokiina @timaeusterrored

@tokyofuturnoir @aggravateddurian @sifofasgard @elfjpeg @aurorartz

@lucky38-2077 @dustymagpie @gloryride @stannussy and anyone else who wants to! Also pls DM me if you don't wanna get tagged🖤

231 notes · View notes

coquettetoji · 1 year ago

Text

{💌} ARMIN ARLERT MOODBOARD

★ general armin hcs ★

— sweetest soul who is 100% down to earth, will scold you for not recycling your fork into the correct trash can and will pick up plastic / any trash on the ground

— nerdy golden retriever boy, and is the biggest people pleaser

— played hockey growing up and in college, he’s a right winger

— reads a shit ton of books, will press pretty and colorful flowers he finds outside into the book spine to save it

— is academically and naturally smart, gpa is a strong 4.2, majors in business, economics, or biology, some smart shit like that ( will grow up to be that hot rich dad every single mom wants )

— SLEEPER BUILD 🗣️🗣️AND A V LINE🗣️🗣️

— hands are big but they’re like bony and soft, he also plays piano so he’s good with his hands *moan*

— his most used app is spotify, google classroom, and messages

— lana del rey coded. i will argue with anyone who thinks otherwise.

— listens to cigarettes after sex, clairo, and this one random 63 hour playlist called ‘band cafe soft jazz music’

— speaking of cigarettes, armin also smokes cigarettes (ik i’m sorry) but this guy is a student athlete, ofc he’s gonna have to de-stress somehow

— drives the newest model of a white range rover with beige interior

— 6’1 teddy bear with attachment issues

— speaks french fluently

— so so so soft spoken like you will never see him yelling at another person, even when he’s frustrated

— also doesn’t like cursing, will give someone a quick glance if they cuss but won’t mind it

— has a gold chain around his neck, yes the slutty kind

— came from old money 🤭🤑, he dresses like it too i’m talking quarter zips, sweaters, khakis, and neutral colors, wears his gold thin wire framed glasses occasionally

— knows all girl shit bc of his little sister (who he adores) he learned how to take care of her so he’s really reliable when it comes to treating girls right

— his phone case is the apple silicone one that’s cream color, keeps one of his credit cards in the case behind his phone

— phone screen is him and his puppy ( spot the difference game for everyone 👍 )

— every woman he knows or did a favor for all say “his mother raised him right”

— the most organized person ever, his whole pantry would labeled and organized like khloe kardashian’s

— eren and armin are 100% that black cat golden retriever duo, take a wild guess on who is which lol

— 2 deep dimples on his cheeks that pop out when he smiles, also has light freckles dusted on his nose n around it, has the straightest whitest teeth + an adorable smile **he’s so grateful for braces existing

— overall the most genuine human out there, no detection of fuck boy here 😁😁😁

{💌} new message from mica

armin is actually my baby i love him so much i need me a soft spoken tall nerdy blonde white boy in my life now

#armin x reader #armin arlert #armin aot #armin x y/n #armin fluff #attack on titan #aot fluff #aot headcanons #aot moodboard #armin headcanons #aot smau #aot #aot x reader #aot fanfiction #armin x you #attack on titan x reader

836 notes · View notes

metalomagnetic · 4 months ago

Note

Hi Metalo!

Have you ever thought about potential patronus animals for the Black family? If so, what kind of animals would fit in your opinion?

As always, your questions make me think a lot. This one is sooo difficult!

Ok, so this might be unpopular but I feel Bella would be a lioness. She is a figure of strength, is territorial, she works hard, perfect hunter that takes down prey twice her size, devoted mother (to her child or to her little sisters) teaching her youngster skills they need to survive, and protecting them so fiercely.

Narcissa is a spider queen. Spiders also have *remarkable* maternal instincts, more developed than in many other species of the earth. Spiders can be aggressive, but also quite peaceful, depending on circumstances. She weaves a beautiful home, but that can also turn into a trap. She isn't showy in her strength, prefers to lure her target into her web, where she can deliver that final, venomous bite to an unsuspecting target that dared trespass against her.

Andromeda is a fox. Cunning, agile and highly adaptable. not overly aggressive, preferring to live their life in stealth mode.

Regulus is a coyote. Almost like a dog, only much shier than a dog, and more cautious. However, when push comes to shove, coyotes are quite territorial and willing to die for what is theirs.

Sirius, obviously, is perfect as a dog. (And I also used him to give Regulus and Andromeda similar patronus forms, from a canidae family, since they are related and one would assume they share traits.)

Ok, so these are the only ones we know from canon, or at least we know something about them that allowed me to try to guess their patronus.

Now, for my head-canon about the rest of the Black family and their personalities, which I depict in 'It runs'.

Waburga is a polar bear. Polar bears are aways striving for the highest possible standards. They are fierce, and they are obsessed with their children. They protect their cubs with their lives, but they also expect their cubs to behave and fall in line. It's a tough life out there, so a polar bear mother needs to teach her youngsters to be ruthless. They love their children, but can be a bit rough in handling them. They can also be very gentle with their cubs, when there's no 'emergency' situation going on. Polar bears are strong, fearless but so lonely. Something about Walburga ending up alone, defined by solitude in her last years, reminds me of a polar bear wandering alone in a harsh, cold environment (Grimmauld, cough cough). Polar bear mamas are also one of the few animals species that become depressed, distressed and vulnerable when they lose a child. They can even stop hunting after such a loss, and waste away.

Orion in 'It runs' is an eagle. Fearless, confident, quite arrogant. Extremely territorial. An eagle will never surrender, regardless of the size or strength of its opponent. It will do anything to regain its territory and it will always defend its nest. Eagles are quite paternal, like most raptors. An eagle father will bring sticks to the nest, and will bring food to the young. When babies fall from nest, a father often dives to catch them on their wings. However, an eagle father also picks favourites, and there's a food hierarchy going on, often choosing to give more food to one baby, encouraging sibling rivalry, which is apparently important for the development of a raptor. Eagle males do form a pair bond with a single female, however, if the female isn't available in mating season, he will find another one.

Cygnus would be a tiger. Not the most paternal, but a fierce predator. They're also one of the few brave enough to get into fights with bears. Tigers and dogs are amongst the few that will look at a bear and go 'yeah, I can take that' (hence why Cygnus and Sirius are the only ones mad enough to get into fights with Walburga). Also, he's a tiger mostly because I want Bella to take after her dad, the only big cats in their immediate family.

Alphard is a lone wolf, to keep up with many of the Blacks having canine counterparts. He's majestic, he's fierce, too, he loves a pack, but at some point he got into too many fights with the leaders of his pack and took off on his own, though at night sometimes he cries to the moon, missing them.

Arcturus is a hawk. Similar to his son, but a tad less fierce. Just a tad.

Sirius the old was a sphinx. He's a special badass, and the world sees him as this almost mythological creature. He has the body of a land apex predator, like many of his descendants (lion, like Bella), but he also has the wings of an eagle (like Orion). He's enigmatic, merciless, and has a gaze that will see straight into your soul. He knows everything that goes on, everywhere. A sphinx represents royalty and sacred status, which is how he views his family (and himself).

This was so much fun. I really like how they turned out, and I love that in this family of vertebrates, Narcissa is the only invertebrate (since she's always the outliner with her blonde hair). She's no less lethal, no less impressive, but she's a tad different from the rest.

I hope you liked it! ❤️

#sirius black #andromeda black #regulus black #narcissa malfoy #bellatrix black #walburga black #back family

107 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 1 year ago

Note

For wip Wednesday Love the vibes of “weird Kryptonian bonding rituals” especially if it’s superfam

. . . I am just gonna blame the fact that I haven't really worked on this WIP in a minute for how "write you three sentences" turned into "write you 1k", cough cough.

Clark gets into Superman's suit and leaves the Daily Planet building at inadvisable speed, probably, but manages not to break the sound barrier anywhere too obvious, he thinks. He follows the sound of that thrumming heartbeat and voice, and finds himself blocks and blocks away, hovering in the air a few hundred feet above a food truck being operated by a woman with dark skin and bright pink hair in her mid-twenties, and the single customer standing on the sidewalk in front of it as assorted civilians pass by in one's and two's.

The single customer is the thrumming heartbeat's owner, and he's about fifteen or sixteen, with pale skin and dark curly hair and bright and eager and inhumanly blue eyes behind a pair of round sunglasses. He's wearing a loose-fitting black leather jacket and heavy black boots and a tight bodysuit, all blue and black and red and yellow and with the exact same "S" on its chest as the one Clark's wearing himself.

The kid looks up, takes one look at Clark, and absolutely lights up.

Clark feels several very new and strange feelings, then charges straight down into the kid and sends them both skidding into the empty street. Hitting him, touching him, is like . . .

Clark barely even remembers to be careful, but the instinct is ingrained too deep to ignore even as they crash into the pavement together.

And then the kid laughs delightedly and throws him off.

Actually throws him.

Clark comes to a stop twenty feet up in the air, blinks down at the kid still beaming up at him, and then bolts back down and smashes him into the pavement again.

"Shit!" the food truck worker shrieks in alarm. "Don't hurt him, Superman, he's just a kid!"

Clark . . . pauses, then looks up from said kid that he is currently pinning into the street as he struggles underneath him.

"'Hurt him'?" he asks in reflexive confusion, and then realizes how batting a teenager around like a person-shaped cat toy and pinning him to the street hard enough to crack it probably actually looks to an outside observer.

. . . um.

Whoops.

"Um," he starts awkwardly, and then the kid slips his pin while he's distracted and throws his arms around his neck with a gleeful laugh and a bright grin.

"Dad!" he crows triumphantly, and hugs Clark harder than literally anyone has ever hugged him before, except maybe, like, Ivo in the fullest and most vicious version of his Parasite suit while trying to crush him to death. It's . . . kind of adorable. Although also Clark can't really breathe very well now. "I found you! Hi, hi, I totally found you!"

"You did," Clark agrees reflexively and slightly out-of-breath-ly, patting the kid's back as he shoots the food truck worker and the several other staring civilians back on the sidewalk all an apologetic smile. "Sorry, ma'am, didn't mean to worry you. We're just playing."

"Oh my god so there was this lab and these doctors and they were all such jerks so I maybe kinda just broke everything and I guess maybe that was bad but they all sucked and they deserved it, I promise, I hope they all lost all their data and their personal files and their customization settings when I smashed up their stupid computers and stuff," the kid half-rants, hanging off Clark like a super-strong but also undeniably floating koala, and Clark straightens up and pats his back again as he listens to his excited and also-adorable ramblings. The way the kid talks actually reminds him of a much younger kid, oddly–even younger than Flip and the rest of the newskids, despite his appearance–but that doesn't exactly hurt the "adorable" impression. "Also there were some really annoying guys who were bothering the way cool chick in the truck over there so I threw them in a dumpster but did you know chili fries were a thing because they are so good, seriously, you should get some!"

"Are you asking me to buy you more chili fries, kid?" Clark asks wryly, and the kid somehow finds a way to perk up even more.

"I mean, no, but if you wanna . . ." he mentions, grinning hopefully.

"Two orders of chili fries please, ma'am?" Clark requests, sparing the food truck worker another smile. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Yesssss," the kid cackles delightedly, hanging heavier off his neck again as he somehow actually manages to hug him tighter. The food truck worker stares at them both for a moment, then reaches for an empty fry basket.

"Uh, sure," she says slowly. "No problem. Uh. Sorry, Superman, but do you . . . have a kid? Is that, like . . . what's happening here?"

"Yes," Clark replies reflexively, patting the kid's head.

. . . wait, that's not–

Then the kid beams at him again and nope, never mind, apparently that is right, he guesses he's just a dad now. Oh no, he and Jimmy are gonna need a bigger apartment, and Clark really hates apartment-hunting and doesn't even know how he's gonna afford his half of a bigger apartment, though at least he knows Jimmy can after selling Flamebird so he guesses that's something, and besides, what, is he gonna make his kid sleep on the couch? No way. The kid can have his bunk, heck, he'll sleep on the couch 'til they can sign a new lease or something. At least he's not an intern anymore, that's been a bit of a financial improvement, so that'll help.

". . . well okay then," the food truck worker says. "How do you even age, are you–um. I'm just . . . gonna make those both double orders, then. No charge. Congrats on, uh . . . congrats? Like, fifteen years late, apparently, but congrats."

"Thank you," Clark replies politely, smiling at her again as he walks over to her truck, the kid still happily hanging/floating off him. "We can pay, though, that's really not necessary."

"Dude. My dad would literally fire me if I ever made Superman pay for freaking chili fries," she says feelingly. "Like. Fire me so hard. Unto our family's next three generations, would he fire me."

"Thank you," Clark repeats, still smiling at her, then pulls a couple of twenties out of his belt and tucks them into her tip jar. Only seems decent, he thinks.

"Oh my god how are you even real," the food truck worker mumbles under her breath as she drops both double-orders of fries into the fryer.

#clark kent #kon el #superman #superboy #my adventures with superman #merryrogue #rinfic #wip: weird kryptonian bonding rituals

442 notes · View notes

lazyneonrabbitt · 26 days ago

Text

🎃 Mister Uruk

Happy Halloween, everyone!

Modern!Adar x reader

Pure tooth rotting fluff with single mom reader, and single dad Adar.

I heard someone say "Halloween meet-cute and, I guess that works for this one

October was only a couple hours away from ending and parents roamed the streets with their children dressed as pirates, mummies, witches and ghouls.

Almost all little ones were back home already and now the older kids ran in groups, racing who collected the most candy over the night.

"Mommy, mommy please I wanna go there!" Your ever so persistent daughter had convinced you to let her go trick-or-treating after the younger kids' usual time 'because the big kid costumes are so much cooler' and made you wear simple black cat ears and drawn on whiskers along with a full black outfit, to match her spooky witch costume. It was clear she was the main event and you were just her sidekick.

But you had to agree wirh her. You were tired of hearing the parents with sticks up their asses complain about all the in your opinion harmless pranks the older kids pulled the day before on Devils' night.

And thus you let your daughter drag you to the large house at the end of the street. No one went near the house, not even delivery drivers dared to pass the gates so thr sons these days always went to pick up their takeout dinners. The house had an eery look to it with its dark walls, original stained glass windows and garden full of atrange plants the mysterious old man who otherwise barely left the house tended to with great care. The scarred, lanky man with the permanent scowl on his face if he ever needed to go outaide the gates

More often you only saw his sons at stores or around town, being the slightly more accepted ones of the family.

About a mother nothing was known, not even the rumors about the family ever had a mention of her.

You had seen the sons roam the streets, donning iconic slasher masks and scaring even the toughest kids around.

"Sweety, don't feel bad if no one opens the door, okay? The old man doesn't like visitors." But your words fell on deaf ears as she practices her elaborate scene in her head, passing the open gate that surrounded the freestanding house.

At the front door you rang the bell amd stepped back, letting your daughter take the spotlight and watched her wiggle her fingers in excitement, no doubt repeating her rehearsed lines one last time before the door opened with a creak.

In the opening appeared the man everyone spoke of but nobody really knew, with his black jeans and shirt hugging his figure. Out from under the fabric peeked scarred skin, from the sides of his head down one side of his neck and reaching all the way over one arm and hand.

His dull blue eyes stared down at your daughter, who instead of doing her little show stood with eyes wide and mouth agape. "Woah.."

"What a cool costume!" She jumped up and had a mile wide smile on her face.

You visibly cringed at her unfiltered thoughts being yelled out like that and gave the man an apologetic look, mouthing 'sorry' as his eyes landed on you. But he didn't respond, just grabbed the bowl of candies he had by the door and lowered himself to sit on his haunches to be at eye-level with your daughter.

"Oh? What pray tell does a witch seek at this house? You are not here to turn me into a frog, are you?" His eyes flickered back to you for just a short moment before his attention went back to the child in front of him, who promised she would leave him be, but only for a grand offer of treats. You chucked at her schemesWith her arms she gestured greatly and held out her bag.

"But of course, your magic majesty. Anything to keep my current form, I have grown to like walking on two legs and speaking like humans do." In his large hands he took a pile of candy and put it into the little witch's bag.

Wigh big, blinking eyes she stared at the man. As well as you, who for the first time really saw him for who he really was; a kind and friendly guy at the end of the street.

"I see you think, little one. You wonder. Was I not always a person? Maybe I was a simple house cat like your pretty familiar over there. Or a dog, a bird or a fish." His hands moved a lot as he talked theatrically to entertain the young girl to the best of his ability.

"Or maybe.." He slightly ducked his head, brows pulled in a frown and pulled up his shoulders.

"..A child eating uruk!" With a quick move he threw up his hands like claws and bared his teeth with a growl that had your daughter jump back with a squeek and a fit of laughter.

Content with his theatrics he stood up again, reaching back inside the house and offering a delicate bag of spooky themed chocolates. "For adults only. No alcohol for the little ones."

The smile he offered you as he brushed his long black hair away from his face had heat rise to your cheeks.

With a thanks you bid him farewell, returning a sweet smile as your daughter happily trotted down the path, looking back and waving "Bye, mister uruk!"

Back home you helped your daughter to bed and cleaned yourself up before changing into some comfortable clothes and laid down on your couch.

Some horrible cheesy monster movie was playing. The kind where the lady fell for the not-so-monstrous at heart creature the town hunted.

The bag of chocolates sat on the side table beside a cup of still steaming tea. They called out to you, you were so curious about their taste. There was no label on the bag that was tied with delicate black and orange ribbon. They looked handmade.

And they tasted delicious! The taste of liquor was evident but not overwhelming, a perfect balance of flavors in the small pumpkin shaped confection.

Adar watched the little witch and her mother walk off his property from the wooden chair on his small porch. The bowl of candy sat on the ground beside him as he lit a cigarette and smiled to himself.

It wasn't often such a young child graced his doorstep on holidays like this. Especially with all the crazy talk going around about him and his sons these last years he was even more surprised you let her walk up to his home and so closely interact with him.

He treated his very few visitors of the night kindly, the teens all wowed with the vast amount of candy he gave out compared to the other stuck up households.

When his sons finally returned home he had retreated back to his favorite chair and sat in front of the tv. The cheesy monster movie not even registering as he fondly recalled the little witch girl and her beautiful mother.

November first was cleanup day, where the community parents assisted in taking down large decorations and removing toilet paper and eggs from houses and share leftover homemade treats. It was always a fun time for the most part, besides the usual posh mothers not lifting a finger. You overheard them complain about certain people not showing up for the fifth time today and decided to move along further down the street.

You arrived at an elderly couple's home thay had such nice flowers in their yard all year round and now laid covered with foilet paper and yarn.

"Hey, let us help you out." The old man's sons appeared from the sidewalk and quickly came to assist, chatting and clearing one yard after another in record time.

You enjoyed working with them. They were kind and lots of fun.

"Oh, thank your father for the chocolates. They're really tasty. Had to put them away before I finished the whole bag in one go last night." The boys said they'd forward your message and everyone went back on their way.

"Dad, please go out more." "Yeah holy shit that lady was so nice, totally oposite of your cranky ass." "You should ask her out if you like her enough to offer her chocolates."

The doorway out of the kitchen where Adar found himself was blocked off by his sons.

"Good to hear the townsfolk like you more than me. I thought we knew that already." Adar kept his focus on the coffeemaker, begging it to work faster so he could pretend to be busy at least.

"Yeah right. 'Liking' us is all fine and dandy but she was all blushy and shit when we mentioned you only giving those out to special folk." With fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, Adar slumped against the counter, a deep sigh leaving his lungs. "I'll think about it. The going out more part, not the dating."

Weeks passed and like clockwork you kept running into the old man and his sons, quick hello's and how are you's shared.

Until one day it was just the old man, no sons with him at the store. You could see him staring in confusion with the basket hung off his arm.

"You look lost." You spoke carefully as to not startle him. His eyes found yours quickly, the grocery list crumpling as he fidgeted with the corners of it.

"I hate to admit that yes, I think so. It's been a while and nothing is in the same place as it was back when I still shopped myself." The words flowed like he never expected they would, talking to a stranger. Or well, not entirely stranger.

"Come, walk with me and we'll do the full store so you can get familiar with it again." You took him along and by the time you reached the register you had managed to make him smile and laugh with you. Much to the annoyance of the townsfolk who just scoffed as they passed you, but you happily ignored all of it.

"I should thank you, for making me look less of a fool. I am Adar, by the way. I realized I never told you my name." You gave yours in return, shaking his hand and letting it linger for a moment, complimenting his home and well kept garden.

Adar felt the looming pressure of his sons' voices telling him to ask you out. But he would never willingly set foot in public dining places that were known to indulge in rumors about him.

"Would you maybe like to come by for dinner once?" He cursed himself out in his head for it, his sons would not leave him be when they heard about this. And of course you agreed with a stammering, blushing mess of an answer and day suggestion.

You agreed to meet over the weekend for dinner at Adar's place.

Saturday came around fast and you were pacing around in the chaos of your exploded clothing cabinet in search of an outfit. To the point of your smartmouthed daughter barging in, who already had her clothes picked out by you and put on. "Mommy you look pretty in anything. Do this one!" She held up a top that matched the color of hers and without any idea what else to wear you agreed.

So you arrived at Adar's place with your daughter for dinner, simple one time thankyou dinner. That's it. You tried to convince yourself of it, but it wouldn't settle.

Aaron, the eldest son answered the door and led you to the diningroom where Eric, the youngest was setting the table and Adar busied hinself in the kitchen beside it.

"Good to see you made it in time. You look nice, miss."

You thanked him and looked into the kitchen where Adar came walking out with bowls of food in hand.

More and more appeared. Meat, two sorts of potatoes, different veggies and salad with dressings, gravy and sides enough for a week.

You couldn't help but stare in awe, not even noticing your daughter sneaking a single fry out of the bowl close to her and snacking on it.

"Please, enjoy the food." Adar's gruff voice spoke to start dinner, and swiftly there were bowls being passed around and people ate.

"Man, it's been ao long since we ate like this. The last time--" Eric's words were cut off by a smack on his arm by his brother, earning the boys a confused look that Adar answered to with heavy heart.

"The last time we ate like this their mother was still with us. It was before we moved here." You let out a soft sigh at a memory of your own resurfacing.

"Yeah, I understand the feeling. Last time I ate like this I had my parents over, and my ex's too. I announced my pregnancy that day, for the first time to my ex as well.. He left after a week of trying to get me to, you know." You made a gesture with your hands and the hint was clear to the adults in the room.

The rest of dinner was had while sharing funny tales and laughing over past adventures, soon all hanging back in your chairs with how good the food was.

Dishes were all done as a team, and finished in no time. The leftovers put in boxes for later and new drinks poured. For a while you chatted there in the kitchen while your daughter had joined Adar's sons who went to watch a movie.

Soon it started getting close to her bedtime, but she refused to go home before the movie had ended. Except the boys had put on the extended version of the first Lord of the Rings movie and it was only fourty-five minutes in.

"Well, now tou gotta stay." The boys had claimed the large couch and your daughter sat curled up in the huge lounge chair, lazerfocussed on the movie. So you and Adar shared the smaller couch.

The movie was good, that was a given, but after a while the boys retreated and your daughter had fallen asleep. To Adar it was clear what his sons were doing, and somewhere he appriciated it. It was just you two now with the little one snoozing in the chair.

"It wouls be a shame to turn off the movie halfway. Another drink?" Adar had that week finally dared to admit to hinself what he had denied for so long. He was lonely, and while his sons may have been pushy, their plans had led to something good. So when he came back with new drinks he sat closer to you, hoping you wouldn't mind and enjoy his advances.

When Adar came back and settle next to you your head screamed at your heart to not act immediately, but to no avail. You carefully settled against his shoulder and soon you two were cuddled up against each other. By the time the movie had ended neither of you wanted to move away.

"I can feel you think, but as much as I feel the same as you it's better for her if you take her home to sleep in her own bed." With heavy hearts you both went on to end the night, sharing contact information and agreeing on a second movie night in the process.

"So, did you at least tell her you like her?" "Come on, you have to!" As soon as the front door closed Aaron and Eric were at the stairs.

"I did not, you scheming brats. But we did agree on another movie night, at her place." The boys cheered and high-fived ine another at the plan. "And the two of you are babysitting her daughter."

The second night, you saw remarkably less of the movie. Limbs tangled, curled up in a thick blanket you only had eyes for each other. Neither of you found a bed that night and woke up on the couch regretting it with every cramped muscle in your bodies. Yet you laughed about it ovee breakfast.

And then by the time the third movie night was planned to happen you were all back in Adar's home. The men just finished up redoing their old study, that was now painted and decorated under your daughter's command. It was her new bedroom after all, and Adar had stupidly promised her to make it perfect for her, and she was very clear about her wishes.

That night when you brought her to bed she just would not settle, and eventually plopped down on her bed to question you.

"Now that we live with mister Adar, does that mean he is your boyfriend now?" Her big, wondering gaze turned into a frown. "Aren't you too old for boyfriends?"

You faked shock at her calling you old. "I'm not too old for boyfriends!" You crossed your arms with a pout. "Besides, Adar is even older. Isn't he too old for girlfriends then too?"

With her fingers at her mouth she made a diaplay of thinking about it. "Yep." She stated simply. "Old people have husbands, and wives."

"Really now? That's what you think?" God, that child had opinions..

"No no, she makes a point." Adar's voice suddenly appeared from the open doorway. "An old man like me talking about his girlfriend has a bit of an eery feeling to it, no?" An amused smile tugged at his lips. "I don't think I would mind being a husband once more, even if it's not on paper but just in title." He strolled over to the bed where you were trying to get your daughter to sleep. "If your mum agrees, tomorrow you'll wake up with two new older brothers, and only if you wish so, someone to one day call dad."

With each of Adar's wordsthe sparkle in her eyes grew.

"So, what do you say, missus? Girlfriend, or wife?" Two sets of eyes stared at you now. One patiently waiting on your answer, and one who, if she stared even the slightest bit harder, she'd develop laser eyes.

"Hmm, I never had a husband before. I think I'd like to give it a try." Happy cheers from beside you quickly turned sour as Adar nuzzled your cheek and kissed the corner of your mouth. It took seconds for her to crawl under the blankets and disappear. "I'm sleeping! You can go now!"

"Come on, my dear wife. Let the child sleep so she can have brothers by morning."

#sometimes I write #adar #stepdadar #adar x reader #adar imagine #adar fanfic #halloween #fluff #trop #rop #the rings of power #lord of the rings #adar rop

81 notes · View notes