#teacher 4

[bumblebeebats]

Top 3 ways to pronounce "worms":

woims (old-timey New York gangster)

wurrums (Scottish)

weuhrms (bad French accent like the narrator from spongebob)

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking about married teacher steve and rockstar eddie.

steve’s students like to poke fun at him for “not being cool” or “trying to be cool”, and steve just feeds into it and plays up his cluelessness to modern things and what’s “hip” nowadays. he always just tells them they have no idea, and they’re gonna eat their words one day when they see how cool he really is, but all the kids just laugh and think he’s being sarcastic.

one day a group in his class is talking about the popular rock music star eddie munson, about his music and how much they love him, and steve joins in, asking them about eddie and what kind of music he makes and so on. he says something like “oh yeah, i think i know munson. yeah he’s cool, makes good stuff” and the kids are like “as if you know eddie munson, mr h, there is no way”. steve just chuckles and says “if you say so”

meanwhile eddie EATS EACH STORY UP when steve comes home with a something new to tell him all about what his kids were saying to him today

honourable mention but eddie also is WEAK for steve’s teacher outfits, the button ups, the vests, when he wears a tie WITH his glasses consider eddie a dead man.

on the last day of class for the year steve has given his class almost a free period of sorts to just chat and muck about being that it’s so close to vacation and all, and ofc the topic of steve’s uncoolness comes up again, and he’s just all laughs and smiles not even trying to fight back while they poke harmless fun at him, just looking smug as shit knowing these kids are in for a treat.

the bell goes and they all start to pack up their things to leave, and steve calls out to get their attention, remember the homework, stay safe, have a good break and all that, but THEN who else walks through the classroom door but eddie. munson. heading straight towards steve telling him “hey babe, ready to go?”

“yep, just let me grab my stuff” steve says back, and the class is stunned silent. eddie walks over to steve’s desk and puts a hand on his back as steve is leaning over it putting books and pages into his bag, “you guys are all free to go” he looks up to the class, smug as ever.

as he and eddie head towards the door, steve stops and turns around back to his class one last time, whisper shouting over his shoulder “who’s cool now?”

eddie is laughing infront of him as they walk out together, listening to the classroom they’d just left erupt into chaos.

[buttercupshands]

I started drawing this next day after I finished Act 6

13 or so days and it's finished!

Main things are traditional and Loop's body was edited digitally after

Unedited it looks like this

I've been torn on how to do Loop's body for the entirety of lining, also

A bit sad the main lines are visible only as a wip, most of this thing is literally just a ton of sharp lines

I think it's also my first day of drawing, Loop is just a sketch here (feat. my leg)

I even finished the beans before it so they were a moral support, because if you let me things like this take a year

[teapot-studies]

Random writing tips that my history professor just told during class that are actually helpful

Download all your sources or print them so you can turn off your wifi

Give your phone to someone

Just. WRITE. Writing is analysing, you’ll get more ideas as you write. It doesn’t need to be perfect, for now you can just blurt out words and ideas randomly. You can fix it later.

Create a skeleton/structure before writing.

Stop before you get exhausted. It’s best to stop writing when you still have some energy and inspiration left, this will also motivate you to get started again next time.

Make a to do list

Work in bite sizes. Even if it’s not much, as long as you put some ideas on paper or do some editing.

Simple language =/= boring language, simple language = clear language.

Own your words. If they are not your words, state this clearly in the text, not just in the footnotes.

STOP BEFORE YOU GET EXHAUSTED. Listing it again because it’s easily one of the best tips a teacher has ever given me.

[sabh0]

Listening to set books while drawing

[busra-tr]

🖤COZY STUDIES KNIT DRESS BD1343🖤

10 Colors

Adult-Elder-Teen-Young Adult

For Female

Compatible with HQ mod-

-New Mesh

-All Lods

- Custom thumbnail

**-Please do not re upload or claim as yours feel free to re color but do not include the mesh .

DOWNLOAD KNIT DRESS

I hope you like them.  ♥

💖 You can check out my Patreon for special cc and other early access content. 💖

[r-aindr0p]

the wotr creatures

[lemonemlyn]

Please, pay attention to your Papa☺️

[rahabq]

[helgatisha]

SIM МЕЛАНИ УОРНЕР | MELANIE WARNER

Download: simfileshare | patreon | boosty

Учительница Хохотушка — это волшебница смеха в классе! С её заразительным смехом даже самые скучные уроки превращаются в веселые приключения. А ее любимая фраза - лирическое отступление закончено, продолжаем.

Сим создан в рамках проекта “Учителя старших классов” от TheSimsLab

ID helgatishagame

No CC

Teacher

add the files to your “Tray” folder

All previews were done with reshade/gshade

please read and respect my tou

Linktree

[jumjum-crafts]

You can't just say ":3"

[fics-n-stuff]

The Interview (and the year and a half to follow)

Pairing: Eddie Munson × Steve Harrington

Summary: When rockstar Eddie Munson reveals that he's married, and to a teacher no less, his fans don't know what to do with themselves. Steve and Eddie, especially Eddie, love the chaos. And he can't help but keep declaring his love for his mystery husband.

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: This is a modern AU in which Steddie are in their early thirties and everyone else is aged up accordingly, and it's truly incredibly sappy. I wrote this all in one go at 2-4am before a shift at 9am, so it could be a masterpiece or it could be crap. You decide!

"My husband is a middle school teacher." Eddie had said, just trying to give the interviewer a little bit of background on his life. He hadn't expected it to set the internet on fire. 

HE'S MARRIED?? TO A TEACHER?????

I CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE WHAT HIS HUSBAND COULD BE LIKE!!!

IS IT AN OPPOSITES ATTRACT KIND OF RELATIONSHIP OR IS EDDIE'S HUSBAND JUST THE MOST HARDCORE TEACHER EVER??

ONLY A LEGEND LIKE EDDIE MUNSON COULD DROP SUCH A BOMBSHELL SO CASUALLY!!

"Eds, what the hell did you do?"

"All I did was say that my husband is a middle school teacher and now everyone's obsessed with you. I think they like the idea that I have a soft side."

"You're nothing but soft sides." Steve chuckled, engulfing Eddie in his arms as they cuddled on the couch. "Maybe I should be the famous one."

"In your dreams, Harrington." Eddie scoffed, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

"If they like the idea that you're secretly a softie, maybe you should tell them that we're an emergency foster home. Or that we have seven pseudo-children."

"One thing at a time, babe. I don't want to set the world on fire."

Eddie didn't do another interview for a while. He was busy producing his band's next album, their fifth one, and spending time with friends and family between tours. But when Corroded Coffin was invited to be the musical guest on a late night show two months later, partly to promote a movie that Eddie was in (it would be his acting debut and he would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified that people would think he was absolutely horrendous), he had almost forgotten about the frenzy he had whipped his fanbase into at the reveal of the existence of his husband.

"So, a couple of months ago you let slip that your husband is a teacher." The host said to him when he sat down after performing his song, and the audience cheered. These were the questions they wanted answered.

"Yeah, a lot of people were surprised to hear that I'm married but I've been wearing a wedding ring for six years." Eddie smiled, holding his left hand up to the camera to display the simple silver wedding band on his ring finger. "I guess nobody really noticed because I wear a lot of rings."

"That's insane, you've been married for six years?" The host exclaimed, and Eddie nodded with a chuckle. "I have to ask, how did you two meet? I mean, a heavy metal rockstar and a middle school teacher are not a conventional pair."

"We met in high school." Eddie answered, and the audience awed. "Well, technically, he had just graduated high school and I was on my second repeat of senior year. We met through some mutual friends."

"That's so sweet. Isn't that so sweet?" The audience cheered at the host's prompt and Eddie giggled, his hair falling into his face. "Was it a love at first sight thing? How did you end up together?"

"Um, kind of. It was strange, he was a popular jock in high school and I was about as weird and unpopular as they got, but once we got to know each other outside of school we clicked fast. And he's hot, like really hot, so I fell immediately." The crowd laughed.

"Wow, that's fantastic. But, anyway, I need to move on before I get carried away. Let's talk about this movie you're in."

"Yes, let's."

Steve was watching the show at home, sat on the couch with Robin on one side and Dustin on the other who were poking and teasing him as they watched the tooth-rottingly sweet interview. Robin was the one who hopped onto Twitter to see what people were saying, and, once again, social media was ablaze. #eddiemunsonhusband was trending the whole next day, and Steve and Eddie found it hugely amusing. 

Eddie slowly started opening up about his personal life after the overwhelmingly positive response to all his husband talk. At the premier of his movie, he walked Robin down the red carpet with him, telling the interviewers that the two of them and his husband were all roommates for a few years in his early twenties. In a radio interview he did in the lead up to his album release, he talked about how he ran the Hellfire Club in high school and how he was still friends with and still semi-regularly DMed for the kids that were in the club, and he told them about how one of the Hellfire kids was the one to initially introduce him to his husband. When the album released and the band did an interview with Rolling Stone, he told them about how supportive everyone in his life was of his music. He told them about the night's he would stay up writing Corroded Coffin's first album, his husband - then boyfriend - doting on him the entire time. And all of this served to fan the flames of his follower base because, even in opening up about his life and his friends and family, he never revealed who his husband was.

Steve didn't go to many of Eddie's public appearances. He never had; it wasn't his scene. And when he did, they kept their distance and kept things discreet until they were inside and there were no more cameras. When Eddie went out and released another morsel of information about his life, Steve sat at home grading papers or planning lessons and smiling to himself about his chaotic rockstar husband. 

And then it was time for Eddie to go on tour again. Steve hated saying goodbye when Eddie went on tour. 

The tour started in California and slowly snaked it's way across all fifty states, stealing Eddie away from their home in Indianapolis for six months. The faculty at Steve's school kept asking what was wrong in the first few weeks after Eddie left. He told them that his husband was travelling for work.

Eddie missed Steve too. Unapologetically so. For the first time on tour, he felt comfortable mentioning his husband. Every other night he brought up how much he missed him, usually as an introduction to one of their songs; one of the softer ones, off of their third album, that he wrote about Steve right after they got married. The audience ate it up every time. His bandmates always rolled their eyes and teased him after the show.

Eddie's tour landed back in Indiana right after Spring Break. Steve was thrilled to have him back, even if it was brief before he moved on to the next state. And Eddie was thrilled to know that, as he played his first night in Indianapolis, Steve was out in the crowd watching. Will, El and Mike had been out in the crowd when he played in California, Max and Lucas had come to see him in their recent new home of Chicago, and Erica, Nancy and Johnathan would be there when he played in New York City. But tonight he knew that Steve was out there in the crowd, with Dustin and Robin, screaming and cheering for him like he had from the start.

"Alright, this is the part of the show where I normally get all sappy about how much I miss my husband." Eddie said into the microphone, his skin gleaming with sweat. His fans cheered. "But not tonight. Because tonight, I'm pleased to say, my husband is here in the crowd." His fans screamed even louder. "And no matter how much you try you're not gonna spot him. You wanna know why? Because he's wearing my clothes so that he blends in with the crowd." Eddie grinned. The audience went wild. "This next one's just for you, sweetheart." 

Out in the audience, dressed in a pair of Eddie's black jeans, a pair of Eddie's bulky boots and a t-shirt from Corroded Coffin's last tour, Steve felt his heart swell.

A year after the revelation of Eddie Munson's husband came the revelation of Eddie Munson's kid. Like the chaos gremlin he is, Eddie took to Twitter on a Thursday afternoon and casually announced that he and his husband were fostering a kid with the intention to adopt.

Like clockwork, the internet set ablaze.

The eleven year old girl had been in Steve and Eddie's care three times over the past two years before the adoption, spending about eight months in their care over the three stays. Then, when Eddie had been in the last month of his tour, Steve got the call that a kid needed a place to stay. Steve had got the second bedroom ready with clean bedding, made sure the cupboards were stocked with snacks. And when the social workers arrived, the girl had launched herself into Steve's arms, babbling about how happy she was that she had ended up with Steve and Eddie again.

It was unusual for Steve and Eddie to see so much of the same kid. They were an emergency foster home, they usually only saw kids for a few nights or a couple of weeks. And it was the same with her the first time she stayed with them. She stayed for twelve days before she moved to a different home. But then she was back. Only three weeks later she was back in their care and, for whatever reason, that's where she stayed for the next five months. It had been a year since Corroded Coffin released their fourth album, and they had decided they were taking their time with the next one, so Eddie was home and not very busy and perfectly happy hanging out with the kid that they hadn't expected to have for so long.

She went back to her parents at the end of the five months, much to Steve and Eddie's disapproval. But they hoped that they had cleaned up their act and she would be going back to a more child friendly environment. Unfortunately, she was back a year later. The social workers had brought her back to Steve and Eddie and asked if they could keep her for a few months again. Of course, they enthusiastically agreed, and the three of them settled in together for the next three months until she was taken back to her family again.

The third time was the final strike. There was no way she was going to be placed back into her parents' care. Steve had volunteered them to foster her for as long as they could. She had always been a wonderful addition to the home ever since her first stay.

When Eddie got home he was thrilled to see her. He'd been filled in on the situation over call, of course, but you couldn't hug someone over the phone. It was only a couple of weeks after Eddie got home that he and Steve started talking about the possibility of adoption.

Steve and Eddie had always wanted kids. At first, they had planned on adopting a baby, but after involving themselves in the foster system and seeing the demand that there was for people to take in older kids they decided that that was their calling. The girl coming into their lives in the way that she did felt almost like fate. And so they sat her down and asked her how she would feel about the whole thing. Much to their delight, she had enthusiastically agreed to the idea, and they started the process immediately. Eddie felt like this was a major development in his life and he wanted to share it - at least a vague bit of it - and so a month later he took to Twitter.

Things went pretty quiet after that. Eddie's label was organising for a European tour, but he made sure it wasn't too soon so that he would be around for the adoption process. And that was where he put all of his energy: into his kid.

The girl attended the school that Steve taught at, and Eddie signed her up for a dance class when she mentioned an interest. Steve helped her with her homework and bought her books and had long conversations with her in which he taught her things without her even realising that she was learning. Eddie nurtured her creative side, buying her art supplies and teaching her guitar and singing Disney karaoke with her on the weekends.

Corroded Coffin was nominated for a Grammy. It wasn't their first nomination but Eddie was excited about it anyway. They hadn't won a Grammy yet, there only really being one category for metal music and plenty of artists deserving of the award.

Steve and Eddie had their first Christmas with a kid. Wayne came over like he did every year, making it a real family affair. They went overboard with the decorations and wracked their brains for the best gifts to buy. They made a gingerbread house and watched an obscene amount of Christmas movies, and it was the best Christmas they'd ever had.

The adoption was finalised at the end of January. The whole thing had been smooth sailing, Steve and Eddie having proved more than capable of taking care of a child over the years. And now they had a kid and they were officially a family and things couldn't have been better.

And then Corroded Coffin won the Grammy for Best Metal Performance. Steve and their daughter had leapt off of the couch with cheers and whoops and fists waving in the air. And after his bandmates had taken turns at the microphone thanking their management and their fans and their families, Eddie had taken his turn for a speech.

"I have so many people that I want to thank, and they know who they are. My uncle Wayne, the Hellfire kids and all my other friends from back home, all of our fans and every friend we've made in the industry. But, obviously, I want to thank my amazing husband for tolerating my chaos and the fact that I write best in the middle of the night. And I also promise to try and change that habit now that we have a kid in the house, and you're allowed to hold me to that." He gave his speech with a massive grin, trophy gripped tightly in his hands, and when he stepped off stage he split off from his band and excused himself to call Steve, who had secretly bought a bottle of champagne and Eddie's favourite cake from his favourite place to celebrate the victory (because he'd had a gut feeling that Corroded Coffin was going to finally win this one).

Then, as if it had crept up on them, it was time for the European tour, which would steal Eddie away from his husband and daughter for even longer than the US tour. 

Right before he boarded the plane, Eddie opened up Instagram, ready to cause one last stir.

The picture was one of Eddie's new favourites. Robin had taken it in their garden when she came over to hang out one random afternoon. Eddie was dressed peak rockstar, distressed black jeans and a studded leather jacket, chains dangling off him and hands covered in rings. And Steve was peak teacher, all blue jeans and a soft grey sweater, and glasses balanced on his nose. He was giving their daughter a piggyback, but the picture was from just an angle that you couldn't see her face, because she deserved her privacy even if her new dad was a rockstar. 

Now that it's all official and I find myself with this perfect little family, I think it's time to finally show you all the amazing man that I share my life with. Everyone, meet Steve.

And, for the final time, the internet went crazy. It was unanimous; they loved Steve. And Eddie couldn't blame them, because he loved Steve too.

[treescantjump]

Teacher Steve gets bullied at work and at home

[moonhze]

[si1verghosts]

Hi!

3. A kiss on the forehead😌

helloooo dear anon!! i am sorry this took so long i could not for the life of me figure out to write but then ! i wrote this on the 4th and i realized it could work... maybe... sorta. this may not be what you were expecting/wanting but there's forehead kisses in there.... somewhere 🫡 also, if u are not american i apologize for giving you a july 4th fic 😭 but the holiday is relatively inconsequential here like theres no patriotism it's just a backdrop if u know what i mean.... anyway, i hope u enjoy <33

you taste like the 4th of july

di leon s. kennedy x fem reader (no use of y/n)

wc: 3.5k

18+ | cw: mentions of drinking | tw: thoughts about death and dying

tags: established relationship; fluff (i guess??); slight changes to canon to suit author's headcanons

read on ao3

a/n: for the past few months i've been working on this very insane multi-chap post di leon fic 😵‍💫 this was written with that in mind But does not have a place in that story... probably.... idk!!! either way, i think it can be read as a standalone just fine

additionally, there is a scene in here where leon picks the reader up. i would just like to say like... he gets thrown into concrete walls on a biweekly basis and gets up and walks it off without issue so i think he can lift anyone no matter their size or shape!!

not beta read or proofread - sorry if any of it is gibberish i've had a wicked migraine the past few days... will maybe attempt to proofread once i can see correctly again 🚬🧍‍♀️regardless, all mistakes are my own

i do not own leon or any other resi character mentioned, etc etc, please don't sue me <3

please do not use my work to train any sort of AI chatbot and/or writing generator.

-----

"It was a good day, wasn't it?" Leon asks, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as you stand over the patio table, cleaning up the abandoned plates and platters.

You hum. It was; a beautiful, cloudless July 4th, spent with Leon's friends in the backyard of your home. The only ones missing were Ashley and Ingrid; the former having a standing family commitment and the latter planning to spend her holiday on the beach, away from the country and your fiancé.

Typically, Chris hosted the Independence Day cookout, but Leon offered up your new home as this year's venue, citing your in-ground pool and the plenty of extra space you have for guests to stay. In reality, he just wanted the chance to out-grill Chris - he'd been preparing since Memorial Day; testing different spice and sauce combinations as well as stocking your freezer full of large cuts of meat.

He'd started before you were even awake, chopping and seasoning in the kitchen, slowly loading up the smoker. You'd joined him on the patio a few hours later, watching from your pool floaty as he poked and prodded at various things.

You don't even eat meat, didn't know the whole thing was so involved, but you did enjoy the view; worn blue jeans hugging his frame as he crouched to check a thermometer.

You had taken a short break from the water, tying up lights and setting a few little decorations around before your guests arrived. Rebecca was the first, tucking her jugs of pre-made cocktail and platter of deviled eggs into your fridge before joining you on the patio.

Chris wasn't far behind, unloading two coolers filled with beer and containers of homemade potato and pasta salads. He'd handed one off to you, grinning, "Claire made one just for you this year."

You'd thanked him, making another attempt to get him to share his family's recipes with you. It was futile, you probably couldn't even waterboard it out of either of them.

Claire had arrived on her motorcycle shortly after, pulling a bundle of fireworks out of her saddlebags. "Sorry I'm late," she said - even though she wasn't - dumping the pile on the ground, thankfully far away from the grill. "Had to stop for these."

Leon had crouched down to inspect them, listening intently as Claire told him about all the different varieties she'd purchased while you relaxed back into the pool.

Sherry arrived next, Jake trailing behind her. She'd left both him and her bags of chips at the table, giving Leon and Claire quick hugs before immediately joining you in the water.

She'd slipped in right beside your floaty, grabbing your hand to get a look at your engagement ring - she'd yet to see it, having been so busy with work. Her eyes widened at the ring as she pushed her sunglasses up to rest on top of her head, "Leon picked this out? Our Leon? Leon Kennedy? Are you sure?"

You'd giggled at her astonishment, "Ashley helped him out; took him to one of her favorite jewelers."

"I should've guessed," She nods. "For my 20th Birthday, he bought me this crazy cute pink tennis bracelet and I was like, 'no way you picked this out alone.' He fessed up that he got a little help from a friend named Ashley.

"At the time, I thought it was just some girlfriend - or hoped, I guess. Back then, I spent a lot of time hoping that Claire and Leon weren't just… working; I liked to think they were taking time for themselves, that they were happy," she had trailed off then, looking off to the tree line behind your house for a minute. Blinking the mist from her eyes, she shrugged, continuing on, "Anyways, I'm thankful to Ash for that bracelet, it was there with me though… a lot. And I'm thankful to you for making him happy, like I always wanted him to be."

With that, you slid off the float to give her a hug, holding her tight as you whispered your thanks. You had worked to bite back your tears - if she didn't cry, neither would you.

Luckily, Jill had walked in a few seconds later, providing a distraction in the form of the most ridiculously large watermelon. "Hey, Kennedy," she shouted, pulling Leon out of his conversation with Claire as she gestured to the melon tucked under her arm. "Can't burn this, can I?"

Leon had thrown his head back with a laugh - in previous years, Jill had always brought boxed brownies with extra crispy edges and Leon invariably had to make a comment about them. "I don't know," he had shrugged, "When it comes to you, Valentine, I'll never say never."

Jill had reared the watermelon back, acting as if she was going to throw it at him. Leon had thrown his arms up, shielding his face, causing everyone to crumble into laughter at the scene.

"It was nice," you agree, reaching to pick up the barong machete he had given Jill when she asked for a knife to cut the melon. "We do have kitchen knives, you know," you scold mockingly, gently waving the blade around.

"I know," he says, releasing you to reach around and pluck the machete out of your hand. "It's good to exercise these every once in a while, though."

You roll your eyes at him, "It's a machete, Leon, not a horse."

He waves you off, slipping through the patio door to wash the blade in the kitchen sink. You take the opportunity to speed clean, knowing it'll be a much harder task once he returns and wraps his arms back around you.

Thankfully everyone had taken care of their own plates and cups - they'd tried to stay and do more but you had ushered them out of the backyard, wanting Chris, Sherry and Jake to depart before the traffic picked up with the crowds leaving the city following the fireworks shows. Jill, Claire and Rebecca had taken up on your offer to stay, at least, piling into your guest rooms. You were glad to have them, secretly plotting to drag them to brunch once you all woke.

You finish piling the platters as Leon makes his way back outside. Before he can get his hands on you and derail your progress, you point to the stack, "Take those inside."

He frowns, "Can't it just wait until tomorrow?"

"We'll get ants; come on, five minutes and it'll be done."

He sighs, but doesn't protest further, carrying the heavy plates inside as you follow him with the utensils. You stack everything by the sink before turning to him, "Is there any of Becca's cocktail left?"

He cocks his brow, tilting his head, "You really want to try that again?"

It's a valid question - you had given it a go earlier and despite everyone's warnings to take it easy, you had thrown back a large mouthful right off the bat. You ended up wincing in pain, "Fuck, that burns. What'd you put in there, Becca?"

She'd shrugged, "Oh, you know, a splash of this, a splash of that. And," she teased, drawing out the vowel, "A bit of my own creation."

"Your own creation…" You had muttered, trailing off before it hit you, "Test tube alcohol?"

She had giggled, grinning, "Takes some getting used to."

You had tried another, much tinier sip. You were able to enjoy the sweetness of the juice for a moment before the burn kicked in again, causing you to curse once more, louder.

Leon had shifted his attention from Chris to you at your exclamation. Seeing the jug of Rebecca's cocktail in front of you on the table, he quickly pieced together what was happening, calling over to Rebecca from his place by the grill, "You trying to kill my fiancé, Becks?"

"Absolutely not; that'd be a stupid thing for me to do," she'd shot back. "She's the only one who can keep you in line, and we kind of like you like that."

"Well," you start, rolling the word around your mouth, "No. But yes - there's gotta be some sort of trick to it, right? Everyone else drank it just fine."

"The trick is," he starts, voice low, reaching out to grab ahold of your hips, "To not drink it. Let me make you some tea instead."

"Fine," you pout, relaxing into his grip, not bothering to argue - tea won't make you hate yourself in the morning.

He moves his hands from your hips, sliding his fingertips along your spine. "Go wait outside," he says, releasing you with a featherlight kiss to your forehead, "I'll bring it out."

With a brush of your lips against his cheek in thanks, you slip away from him, heading back out to the backyard and pulling off your shorts, settling onto the ledge of the shallow end of the pool. The air has cooled with the setting of the sun, becoming a comforting warmth instead of an overbearing heat. You dip your legs into the water, thankful you insisted on having a pool when you and Leon were house hunting.

Someone is still setting off fireworks; they're a few miles away, though - you can hear them more than you can see them. Resting back on your palms, you close your eyes, imagining what bursts of color may be accompanying each sound.

Leon joins you a few minutes later - just after the fireworks had died down - sporting his swim shorts and carrying your tea. He bends, setting the mug next to you with a kiss to your temple, nosing at your hair. "Earl Grey," he reports before drawling, "How terribly unpatriotic of you."

"You going to arrest me for treason, Agent Kennedy?" You laugh, reaching up to squeeze his thigh below the hem of his shorts. "You're the one who made it; they'd nail you as an accomplice."

He falls into a crouch, leg muscles bunching under the pads of your fingertips as he shifts closer to touch his lips on your cheek. "They can hang us together, then," he remarks, voice a bit too serious for it to be just a joke. "Side by side, off the same branch."

You sit back just enough to get your eyes focused on him, reaching your other hand out to thumb at his bottom lip. "Dulce et decorum est pro cor mori," you whisper, tacking on a hum in question.

He cocks his head at the unfamiliar words, nipping at your nail playfully, "English please, baby."

You consider him for a moment, the translation of the true phrase running through your mind; how sweet and honorable it is to die for one's country. The old lie, it's come to be known as - fittingly.

It's a similar sentiment to one that's grown to become your fear; that he'll die for the sake of the country, under orders from the government, believing it was his duty.

But you think your spin on it may be true; would be willing to find out.

You don't want to weigh him down with the thought, though, choosing to reel him in for a kiss instead. "I love you," is the answer you settle on, laying the words down right on his tongue.

He seems content with your translation - the method of delivery likely having something to do with it - humming into your mouth. He kisses you back lazily for a long, languid moment before he pulls away, "As much as I'm enjoying this, I've been wanting to get in there all day," he says, nodding his head towards the water.

"Go," you chuckle, giving him a gentle push away from you with the hand still resting along his face.

He lays another quick peck against your lips before standing, padding around the edge to the steps. He pauses for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, skin honeyed under the soft glow of the lights you'd hung around the patio.

A second later, he slips under the surface without hesitation; kicking off the steps, moving quickly to the deep end. He almost shimmers as he glides along the floor of the pool, the rippling of the gentle waves he'd created making him seem like some sort of mirage as he passes by you.

He comes up for air once he hits the far wall, tossing his hair back, smoothing the water from his eyes. He doesn't rest long, though, beginning to swim short laps across the width of the deep end.

You observe him, sipping your tea slowly, appreciating the way his back and arms work with each stroke. He continues long enough for you to nearly drain your cup, stopping short when another trio of fireworks set off in the distance.

Setting your mug down, you eye him, preparing to slip into the pool to soothe him if you have to, but he relaxes once he connects the sound to the flashes in the sky. The tension that had flooded the line of his shoulders drains into the water as he shifts to wade backward, moving closer to where you sit.

You finish off your drink as he starfishes out across the surface of the water, floating just a few feet in front of you. You wonder if you could use him as a floaty, pinning up a note in your brain to try it out sometime.

"I'm glad you insisted on a pool, sweetheart," he sighs, breaking your companionable silence.

You hum, pleased, kicking your legs out gently and causing the water to lap against his skin. More fireworks sound out; he doesn't tense this time, but he does get his feet back under himself, moving to where you sit along the ledge.

Sliding his hands up your legs, he pillows his head in your lap, wet hair fanning out across your thighs. You shift your weight back onto your right hand, laying the other along his jaw. His eyes flutter closed as you brush your thumb along his cheekbone and the scar that runs beneath it.

He picks at the tie of your bathing suit absentmindedly, tugging at the strings when you slide your hand into his hair, scratching at his scalp. "Sherry said something to me earlier."

He makes a noise urging you to elaborate, not bothering to open his eyes.

"She told me that when she was younger, she hoped that you and Claire were living your lives; that you were doing more than just working, you know? She said she wanted you guys to be happy," you explain, working to keep your voice even.

He cracks his eyes open, picking his head up to watch you as you continue. "She thanked me," you swallow thickly, "for making you happy, like she always wanted you to be."

He smiles at your words, and it's a beautiful thing. You still get all twisted up inside with how gorgeous he is; neurons overclocking themselves with the thrill of being the subject of his attention.

"I owe you a thank you, too, baby," he starts, pausing to nose at your wrist.

"You don't owe me anything, Leon," you tug at his damp strands still between your fingers, highlights catching the yellow glow from the lights around the patio.

"I do," he says, the words sending a jolt through you. You never intended on getting married, yet here you are now, eager to hear the phrase on the altar.

He kisses the thin skin of your wrist, lips lingering as if he can feel the thrum of your heartbeat; knows that the pace has picked up under his affection. "All this," he pulls back, taking a hand off you to gesture to the pool; the backyard; the house; to you. "It's something I never thought I'd get.

"Sherry's right - you're behind basically every bit of happiness I have now, sweetheart; I owe it all to you." He reaches up, untangling your grip from his hair, thumbing gently at the ring he put there, "Thank you."

You can't respond verbally, will burst into tears if you do. In lieu of speech, you lean forward, pressing your lips against his insistently.

He seems to get the message; understands that the pleasure is all yours, that you'd give him anything and everything you can - knowing he'd do the same for you.

He gets his arms back around you, continuing your kiss as he lifts you from the edge of the pool and into the water with him. You wrap your legs around his waist, safe and secure in his hold.

His teeth catch along your bottom lip and the neighbors down the street set off fireworks, the bright bursts of color painting your backyard in reds and blues and greens and oranges. The sparks reflect off the surface of the water as he slides his nose against yours and not for the first time, you think this may all be a dream. Maybe you died four years ago and this whole thing has been some sort of afterlife; you aren't sure you'd done anything worth this treatment, though.

Maybe it's more supernatural in origin; an intricate hallucination weaved by a Djinn that's got you chained up in some dark, damp basement as it feeds off your blood. Or maybe you just went crazy and the pool is actually a padded room, Leon's mouth against yours a product of your mind working to distract itself from your reality.

Whatever the case may be, it certainly feels real when he shifts his hold on you, hoists you up higher to get at your neck, laying kisses up and down the column of your throat, nipping at your jaw.

But before he can venture much further, the neighbor's fireworks show grows into an extravaganza, the relentless popping and bursting becoming a nuisance, shattering the illusion of your teeny-boppy movie moment.

"Jeez," Leon mutters, breath hot against the saliva cooling on your skin, causing you to shudder. "Did they buy out a whole tent?"

"Did you check that Claire actually went to bed?" You ask, shaking yourself free of his hold. "She could've joined them; brought everything I wouldn't let her set off here."

He hums, letting you down into the water, considering your words - even though you said it as a joke, it certainly is a possibility. You seem to come to this realization at the same time, eyes narrowing at each other as the spray of fireworks continues overhead. "We should…" He starts, nodding towards the stairs.

"Yeah," you agree, already beginning to move.

You pause to grab your towels, wrapping your own around yourself, throwing the other over Leon's shoulders when you catch up to him at the patio door. Stepping inside, you hear someone knocking around your kitchen.

Luckily, it's Claire. She steps back from the cabinet she'd been rifling through to face you and Leon with a frown. "Isn't this shit ridiculous?" She remarks, pointing to the ceiling in reference to the fireworks.

"You're one to talk, Claire," Leon shoots back. "Didn't you just set off about five hundred dollars worth of them in my backyard a few hours ago?"

"Yes, a few hours ago," she reiterates. "Nothing should be set off after the show at the Capitol is finished - after that, you're done; you missed your shot; better luck next year."

"Exactly," you nod in agreement at her reasoning, "They should put you in charge."

She grins at your words, moving to continue on, but Leon cuts in before she can start; "What is it that you were clawing through my cabinets for?"

She sighs, displeased with his interruption, setting her hands on her hips. "Where do you keep the ibuprofen?"

Leon shoos her out of the way, padding across the kitchen to get the medicine himself. Claire relents without argument, attention immediately shifting back to you as she leans over the counter. "So," she wiggles her eyebrows, "It seems like that pool was a good investment, huh?"

You bite at your lip, ears burning with embarrassment that she'd seen you and Leon necking in the water like teenagers - even though you shouldn't be flustered; it is your house, after all.

Leon sets the bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water down in front of Claire, annoyance evident with the way he uses a bit more force than really necessary, causing the items to clack against the marble.

"What?" Claire questions, glaring at him. "It was cute."

Leon huffs in response, unable to hide the flush that crawls up his neck at her words. You can't help the giggle that bubbles out of you, enjoying the way they bicker like siblings.

Claire leaves Leon to stew, tossing you a grin as she collects the bottle and glass, bidding you goodnight once more before she leaves the kitchen.

You move around the counter to Leon, steps careful in an effort not to slip on the water that has dripped off him and onto the tile. The neighbors must've ran out of fireworks while you were distracted by Claire as it's silent when you wrap your arms around him, tucking your face into his neck. "Still a good day?" You ask, voice muffled against his skin.

He slings an arm around you, fingers fanning out along the small of your back, "Still a good day."

[mykimouser]

I just think post everything it would be nice if Steve just became a middle school teacher