#going places without having to wait to get approval first

[firstelevens]

june prompts! (they are sooo cute): "fruit stand" for whatever characters you choose

the poll results were a tie so here's something that's neither of the presented options: a highly specific f1 au entry that benefits from reading this prompt fill first

( now on AO3 )

Arguably, being a professional race car driver for twenty years doesn't leave a person with a whole lot of transferable skills, but as Sam watches Bucky take a tight corner and snag the very last parking spot in a packed out gravel lot, he has to admit that the job occasionally comes in handy.

When Sam comes around from the passenger side of the car, Bucky already has their respective shopping lists in his hand. "Are you sure you want to split up for this?" he asks. "If I learned anything watching rom-coms on the plane, it's that farmer's markets are inherently romantic places."

Sam laughs. "What, a week away in a secluded cottage with a hot tub isn't romantic enough for you?"

"Of course not; I've seen way too many horror movies that start that way," says Bucky. Then, as solemnly as he can, he adds, "In fact, just to be safe, we should probably just stay in the bedroom the entire time we're here."

"And that's purely a safety consideration, huh?" asks Sam.

Bucky nods, hooking his fingers in one of Sam's belt loops to pull him close. "Oh, yeah," he says, even as he leans in and steals a kiss. "Entirely a security concern. No ulterior motives at all."

Sam can't help but grin as he presses his lips to Bucky's, half because of Bucky's stupid bit and half because he almost never gets to kiss Bucky like this, out in the sunshine with people milling around and going about their lives. "If that's what we have to do, then that's what we have to do," he says. "Some of us just have to sacrifice like that, I guess."

He's rewarded for his trouble with a kiss on the nose. "Exactly," Bucky says. "Now, tell me, what does the winner of this race get?"

"What race?"

Bucky holds up his shopping list. "The race to finish our halves of the list first, obviously. What does the winner get?"

"We're on summer break, Barnes; it's the one time of year that we don't have to race," laughs Sam, but the look that he gets in response says Bucky doesn't believe him for a second. "Fine. Winner gets...I don't know, a massage from the loser?"

"Samuel, if you think I'm not going to drag out this shopping trip for two hours just to make sure I lose and have an excuse to get my hands all over you..."

"And the winner gets to choose what we watch tonight," adds Sam. "I know you've got a dozen fantasy movies that you've been dying to show me."

Instantly, Bucky's eyes light up with the challenge. "Done," he says. "And for what it's worth, I think you're really gonna love Highlander."

He takes off without waiting for a reply, bound for the stalls like a man on a mission. After taking a beat to admire the view, Sam sets off equally as fast, determined to make Bucky work for it.

As it turns out, Sam gets lucky and checks off more than half of his shopping list between two stalls, so he lets himself relax a little and stops at a fruit stand, weighing the benefits of cobbler versus shortcake as dessert. He's just decided on cobbler when the owner of the stand ducks under the awning, carrying a baby who is very determinedly grabbing at his hair, in spite of the fact that his locs have been swept up and out of reach.

"You find everything you need?" he asks, and Sam is a little surprised to hear that he has an English accent.

"I did," he says, pointing out the plums and the jar of local honey that he'd settled on. After a moment's debate, he asks for one of the hand-tied bouquets of wildflowers, too.

"Excellent choice," says the stall owner, and the baby in his arms coos happily, clapping his chubby hands.

Sam leans down to address the baby. "Do you approve of my choice, too? Am I shopping like a local?"

The baby looks at him with wide eyes for a moment before offering a smile and babbling at him. The stall owner gives the baby a little bounce and translates: "He says you're doing great, but to really be convincing, you have to stop at the bakery on the corner and get one of their raspberry cream pies. The tourists just stop and buy cookies at the stall."

"Thanks for the tip," laughs Sam, wiggling his fingers at the baby. "Who needs guidebooks when we've got this little guy?"

"There's talk of making him head of our tourism department," says the stall owner, "but what would the business do without him?"

Sam snorts. "He runs a tight ship, huh?"

"Keeps me and my husband on our toes, anyway," is the reply, and Sam feels a little bit of his anxiety about being in an unfamiliar town melt away.

"Well, do either of you have any suggestions for things that we should do while we're in town? My, uh- my partner and I are here for a week, so..."

"Oh, absolutely," he replies, but whatever it is that he's going to say after that, it's cut off by Bucky bounding over and brandishing his fully-checked-off list in Sam's face.

"Come on, Wilson; it's like you're not even trying to win," says Bucky, as he slings an arm around Sam and looks at his abandoned list. "All that fuss about bread and you haven't even made it to the bakery yet?"

"I was getting tips from some locals," says Sam. He turns to the stall owner. "This is my partner--"

"Jamie?" gasps the stall owner, looking at Bucky like he's just seen a ghost. "Is that you?"

Sam almost tells him he has the wrong guy, except then he glances at Bucky and sees him staring right back, his mouth open in shock.

"Hi, Ollie," Bucky says after a long, unbearably quiet moment. Even if Sam didn't vaguely remember talking to Bucky about an ex named Oliver, their history would be impossible to miss. Bucky's voice has gone soft, the way it tends to be with kids and old friends of his mom's, but Sam can feel the tension in his arm as he stiffens. He covers Bucky's hand with his own where it rests on his hip and feels Bucky lean into his side a little.

"It's really good to see you," says Oliver. “How have you been? How are Becca and your mum?”

Bucky’s hand shakes a little at the mention of his mother and Sam shifts his hand so he can interlace their fingers, giving Bucky’s hand a squeeze.

“Becca’s great,” says Sam, trying to give Bucky a moment to collect himself. “She’s a lawyer now, so she tends to be pretty busy, but we try to see her when there’s a break in the racing schedule.”

“A lawyer?” repeats Oliver. “That’s wonderful! The last time I saw her, she was still in high school.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, a rasp to his voice now, “we’re very proud of her.” He does not, Sam notes, answer the question about his mother.

Oliver is still looking at Bucky with awe on his face. "I still can’t believe I ran into you here and never once in London. How long has it been now? Ten, twelve years?”

"Probably closer to twelve by now," says Bucky, and Sam knows that Bucky could give an exact number if he wanted to. “How have you been? You’re good?”

“I am,” says Oliver. “Fell in love with an American, followed him here to take over the family business, and now we’re training the next generation.”

“I can see that,” says Bucky. “Is this- uh, is he yours?”

"He is," says Oliver, smiling as he gives the baby another bounce. "This is Max. Max, say hi to Jamie and- I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

Baby Max is already babbling in Bucky's general direction when Sam introduces himself to Oliver, and if Oliver makes any connection about a Sam in relation to Bucky's career, he doesn't give any indication.

Sam decides not to worry about it. Instead, he watches how Bucky smiles at Max, responding intently to the rapid baby babble and making all the requisite interested noises. Max is delighted by Bucky's attention, clapping his hands and laughing delightedly. It's enough to bring about the same warmth that Sam feels in his chest when he sees Bucky with Ellie or with AJ and Cass, and part of him thinks he sees that same something in Oliver's eyes as he watches Max giggle at Bucky's antics.

"He's so cute," Bucky says, looking at Oliver again. There’s a little less tension in his shoulders now. "You must be so proud."

"We are," says Oliver, and while Sam isn't jealous, he is a little relieved to see that Oliver remembers that he has a husband. "He'll be two in January, and I don't know what we'll do once he's a toddler."

"Invest in baby gates and some good running shoes, to start," says Bucky. "And maybe start working on your cardio."

Oliver laughs. "That sounds like experience talking. Do you two have kids?"

Sam just shakes his head in response, but beside him, Bucky says, "Not yet, but Sam's got nephews, and Steve's daughter will be three soon."

It seems like Oliver remembers Steve, and as he starts asking Bucky about the different people in his life, all that Sam can think about is Bucky saying that he and Sam didn't have kids yet. They've both talked about wanting to be dads, and they've established that marriage is in the cards for them, but somehow that knowledge hadn’t quite crystallized until now: Sam and Bucky are going to be dads together one day.

They’re going to raise children with goofy dance moves and adorable scowls, and Sam realized it in the middle of polite small talk with an ex who'd broken up with Bucky—Sam is just now remembering—because there was no chance of having a normal life or family with him. Oliver has been nothing but nice, and he’s very clearly happy with his life, but a possessive, prickly part of Sam feels smug about being the one who gets to do this with Bucky.

He waits patiently as the conversation goes on, very aware of the fact that Bucky hasn’t let go of him, but unsure of how to pull off an extraction. It ends up not mattering: the sun and the noise are enough to make Max fussy after a while, and Oliver excuses himself to find his husband, but not before packing them off with some extra jam and fruit as a gift.

By unspoken agreement, Sam and Bucky leave the farmer’s market behind after that, and Bucky doesn’t protest when Sam takes the keys from him and drives the rest of the way to the cottage. It’s a quiet drive, and when they arrive, it’s enough of a flurry of activity that any conversation between them is purely practical.

Once all the groceries are unpacked, Sam busies himself making a pot of coffee in an unfamiliar machine, hoping to busy himself enough that he’s not straining to hear Bucky moving around in the bedroom upstairs. The distraction pays off a while later, when he hears Bucky’s near-silent footsteps crossing the kitchen floor before a strong arm loops around Sam’s waist from behind and pulls him close.

Sam tilts his head a little to the side and smiles as Bucky buries his face in Sam’s neck. “You good, baby?” he asks.

“Uh-huh,” comes Bucky’s voice, muffled against Sam’s shoulder. “Needed a minute.”

“To mourn that we didn’t end up getting baguettes?” asks Sam, and grins when he feels Bucky laugh.

“I already checked; the bakery delivers,” says Bucky, and Sam feels a rush of love for this nerd. They’re quiet for a moment, and then Bucky says, “Needed to think, that’s all.”

“About anything particular, or were the hamsters just spinning in their wheels up there?”

Bucky is quiet again. Sam brings up a hand to rub some of the tension out of his neck and he slumps against Sam’s back with a sigh.

The coffee machine finishes brewing and Sam snags two mugs from the stand beside it, filling both of them and adding cream and sugar one-handed.

“He said there wasn’t a future with me,” Bucky says, when their coffee is ready. Then he clarifies, like Sam would’ve thought he meant anyone else. “Ollie. He said I couldn���t give him that future, that he didn’t want to wait for something that wasn’t coming. He didn’t want to hide that he was in love.”

Sam has become an expert at waiting Bucky out, so he sips his coffee and lets him figure out what he wants to say.

“He was right to leave,” says Bucky eventually. “He shouldn’t have had to be a secret, and I’m glad he found what he wanted.”

“But…”

“But back then, I told him things would change, and he didn’t believe me,” Bucky says. “And now it’s thirteen years later, and things still haven’t changed. I’m stupid in love with you, Sam, and I want a life with you, and a family with you, and here we are sneaking around and keeping secrets. How is this different? How do I make this end differently?”

“Well, first of all, you remember that secrecy is a choice that we both made together,” says Sam. “I’m not saying Ollie didn’t have a choice, but there’s no way his decision was as informed as mine was. There’s no way he knew what it was like.”

“And that’s enough?” asks Bucky. “We drove two hours from home just so we could hold hands in public, and that doesn’t make you mad?”

Sam turns so he can face Bucky, immediately resettling Bucky’s hand on his waist. “Of course it makes me mad, Buck,” he says softly. He brings up his hands to hold cradle Bucky’s face, thumb swiping at a stray eyelash. “But I’m not mad at you; I’m mad with you. We’re in this together, baby.”

“I don’t want you to have to wait forever,” says Bucky. “And I don’t want to keep you a secret forever either. I want people to know how happy we are.”

“They will,” says Sam. “I promise. We can even tell them all now if you want to; that’s one way to kick off silly season.”

“And distract from the fact that you’re about to win a World Championship?” scoffs Bucky, looking offended on Sam’s behalf. “I think the fuck not.”

“You don’t know that I’m going to win, Buck.”

“Yeah, I do,” says Bucky, and Sam feels his body flush with pleasure at how certain Bucky is.

“I could always just lay one on you when they announce my win, then,” offers Sam. “I assume you’ll swoon with delight when it happens.”

“Nah,” says Bucky, shaking his head, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. “I can’t. I promised your mom I’d take a video of your reaction.”

Sam’s face goes warm and he hides against Bucky’s shoulder to cover the pleased grin on his face. “I should never have let you two exchange numbers.”

“Too late,” says Bucky. “We’re best friends now.”

“I’m starting to think she’s been dropping all those hints about proposing just so you two can hang out more.”

“You said it, not me.”

“Well, that’s too bad for her,” says Sam, pulling back to look at Bucky, “because I have very definite plans for proposing to you, and they have nothing to do with you two getting to have brunch together more often.”

Bucky’s cheeks go pink. “Already planning your proposal?” he teases. “And it hasn’t even been a year?”

“Some of us know what we want the minute we see it,” says Sam. “And I, for one, have no plans to fumble it.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, smiling down at Sam. “Just…whatever it is, make sure it’s a good story so we can tell our kids about it one day.”

“They’re going to get bored of us talking about each other, you know.”

Bucky waves a hand. “They’ll live,” he says, and the smitten grin on his face matches Sam’s own. “Now, someone talked big about a massage and a movie before he went and lost a bet today, and I’m noticing that topic hasn’t come up since.”

“I want a do-over,” says Sam, even as he lets Bucky pull him towards the couch. “Running into someone’s ex has to invalidate any prior bets. I’m pretty sure that’s a rule.”

“That’s not a rule, Sam.”

“You literally made me wait an hour for breakfast once because Leila was in the restaurant, minding her own business.”

“It was Valentine’s Day! I wanted to cozy up to my man!”

“It was Groundhog Day, and I don’t know what cozying you thought you were going to do in a booth at a family restaurant.”

“It was the principle of the thing, Samuel,” argues Bucky, and Sam lets himself slip into their familiar, silly back and forth, massage and bet entirely forgotten.

He thinks of Bucky’s question and hopes that the answer is always this obvious.

Of course this is enough. How could being loved this completely be anything less?

[halfdeadwallfly]

three months until i get to go back to school. i can deal with three months.

[xervn]

till the sun is up

oneshot | cowboy sevika

ao3 link

summary: porch sex. that's about it.

18+ MDNI | 2k words | tags; modern au, cowboy sevika (doesn't play a big part though), established relationship, sevika has both arms (sorry, ik, i love it too), kissing, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, no use of y/n, porn w/ plot if you squint

took me weeks to write this because i'm lazy and a student, but i'm still in love with sevika. sorry if there's grammatical errors, i mostly wrote this with one hand (im joking)

It’s six-oh-something AM and you woke up to an empty bed; nothing but wrinkled sheets where your wife is supposed to be. You figure she’s keeping herself busy and will be back soon, so in the meantime, you tie your robe around your waist for a little warmth and head downstairs.

You get started on breakfast, turning on the griddle, and taking note of the things you guys need to stock up on. However, by the time you’re done, Sevika has still not shown up. You’re not used to waking up without seeing her, although the only reason you’re up right now is because you didn’t feel her next to you. 

“She must be in the barn.” You assume, making your way to the front door and to the porch. As expected, the horses are out, which could only mean Sevika was too. You make your own binoculars with your hands, trying to see if you can spot your wife in the distance, until you hear a soft grunt right beside you. 

A peaceful sight, Sevika napping on a wooden armchair like an uncle at a family gathering— you giggle at that— with her cowboy hat being used as a sleeping mask. You hate to have to wake her up, but you made her breakfast! And she should’ve been sleeping next to you anyways. 

“Vika..” You lean down to peek at her face, but, of course, her hat is blocking her eyes. “Vika, baby?” You squat down to plant a kiss on her cheek where you can manage, and she hums awake. “There you are.”

Sevika grunts and you giggle. She sits up and pulls her hat back on her head, squinting at the early morning sun that’s still rising, but somehow found a perfect angle to blind her. She turns to look at you instead. “Hey, sweetheart.” She greets with a rasp.

You spot her discomfort and use your body to block the incoming light for her. “Hi, I missed you.”

She smiles sleepily and reaches for your waist. She guides you down to sit on her lap and you happily let her. “‘M sorry. Woke up too early, thought I’d let the horses out and watch the sunrise...” She says before looking away to yawn. 

You gasp lightly, “Without me?” You clutch at your chest and Sevika chuckles at your theatrics. 

She gently tries to move your hand into hers, but you resist. She shakes her head, laughing, “No, no, no. Baby, please, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“But you made it sound so romantic.. I wouldn’t mind.” You pout. Sevika gives you a doubtful look and you pretend not to see it. 

“You’re not nice when I wake you up.” She reminds you.

“I would’ve been nice this time.” You lie.

“I didn’t want to test that.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Oh, whatever.” You shift to get up, but Sevika quickly anchors you down.

“Where are you going?” She questions with her hands on you firmly; one around your waist and on your stomach, and the other indented in your thigh like you might float away. 

“Ease up, cowgirl. I made breakfast. I made you breakfast.” You reply, placing your hand on her cheek.

“Oh? What’d you make?” She asks as she leans her face into your touch, innocently. Her hands don’t budge.

“Bacon, eggs,” you list and Sevika nods in approval, “Pancakes, and coffee...” You drawl, and her eyes shut as she groans. “Uh-huh, are you gonna join me?” You ask, resting your hands on her chest and waiting for her answer.

She looks you in the eyes, until her gaze starts to go south, lingering at the low neckline of your nightgown. Your cleavage makes a sudden appearance she didn’t notice at first. Sevika was half-awake, but she’s definitely not anymore; whistling at the sight of you. Her grasp on your thigh leaves and goes to pull your satin robe down your shoulder. Surprised, you scold, “Sevika!”

“What?” She goes for the other shoulder and you make no attempts to stop her. “I can’t admire my wife?” She says, resting her rough hand on your thigh again, but this time she’s slowly massaging it up and down.

“You can, but I made you breakfast and it’ll get cold.”

“Baby, that’s what microwaves are for.” She coos, venturing her hand between your legs, slowly making her way up. 

They almost flinch shut and Sevika awes. Your face turns warm and you look away, towards your surroundings, and although she's right about the food, you guys are still outside. You mutter out, “But..”

“But what?” She asks. You continue to aimlessly look in the distance, even though you know damn well there’s nothing but farmland and horses. Sevika chuckles, “The horses don’t care and we don’t get visitors. Even if we did, you know I’d kill ‘em before they could see you like this, right?” You fix your lips to respond, but you pause when the hand on your stomach moves down to the lace hemline of your gown. Her fingers curl underneath, waiting to search. “I miss you.” She whispers.

Her words tug at your heart and her puppy eyes burn into you. You didn’t need much convincing anyways, but you fold and you mumble out, “I know what you’re doing...” Your marriage has taught two things, if Sevika “misses you” she either really does, or she really wants to fuck you. 

You reach for her hat and perch it on your head; an unspoken rule about cowboys Sevika once said. She grins up at you as you slide your hand over her shoulder, closing some distance between you two.

“I do miss you, I miss you all the time.” She assures, leaning in to freely press kisses on your shoulder. Her fingers finally lift your dress and her kisses begin to trail towards your neck. You can deduce which “missing” she meant, and you feel the same way. 

Exhaling, you tip your head to the side to give her more room. Sevika’s lips marking the new territory makes you tremble like it was the first time. It’s no surprise that after years of being together, she still makes your heart race. 

You move with her as she leans back, tugging you towards her. You involuntarily let out a squeak that she snickers at, and she gives you a kiss on the cheek and several more, distracting you from her spreading your legs indecently; hooking your outer leg over her strong forearm.

She wastes no time to ride up the front of your nightgown, showcasing your plain, flimsy, black, cat-themed underwear. Sevika doesn’t bat an eye, of course, she’s used to it. 

Right now, she’s only focused on one thing. Her hand purposefully ghosts over, so she can ogle at you writhing with anticipation. Your knitting brows, heavy breathing— it excites her. She’s getting worked up from watching you. “Look how bad you want it.” She teases affectionately.

Sevika presses her middle finger on your damp, clothed clit, observing and feeling every reaction that pulses from you. You let out a soft curse and she rewards it by moving her finger in tight circles. Sevika listens to how your breath staggers and clenches from the ache between her own legs. She tugs your underwear to the side to properly admire how wet you are. The cool, morning air makes you shiver. 

Pinning the fabric with her ring finger, she sensually swipes her middle up your folds. “All for me?”

Her voice has you melting, throbbing, and you're unable to contain the whine that escapes you. Sevika’s gaze locks on your lips the second she hears it, as if she’s hunting for the next one. You make sure she’ll be able to catch it, meeting her halfway for a kiss. 

She grins as your mouths collide, eyes fluttering shut and lips passionately fitting together like a two-piece puzzle. She brings another finger to aid her in rubbing soft circles on your clit; just enough to build pressure, but not enough to relieve it. The tip of her tongue runs over your parted bottom lip, waiting for an invitation in, and you allow it with a breathy moan. She languidly teases her tongue across yours, then pulls away just to watch you follow after her— which you do— and you can see how much she got off on it. 

Panting impatiently, “Sev…“ But you trail off as she gravitates towards you with another magnetizing, searing kiss. Your hands find the side of her neck, brushing up her nape. 

She sweetly pecks your lips, breaking away for a second, “You’re,” she kisses you again, “Just,” and again, “So,” and again, “Pretty. I had to look.” She murmurs.

Your face becomes home for a cheesy smile Sevika reciprocates dotingly. You lean in to kiss her, and as your lips brush against each other’s, her fingers suddenly resume their movement, this time firmly and relieving. You whimper over her lips, and she chuckles darkly against yours. She kisses you deeply as she steadily coaxes your clit on a perfect pressure point. 

Your legs begin to bow together from the overwhelming sensation, slowly coming to its climax, and Sevika takes it as a sign to slip her fingers into you. The stretch hurts good as she curls her fingers into ‘come-hither’ motions right where you need them. The previous build up resumes instantly and you’re back where you left off, right on the brink. 

“Vika, I’m gonna…“ You softly cry out, unable to finish your words because she only increases her speed at the mention of her name. Now her thick fingers are squelching in and out of you and the sounds are fogging your brain. If it wasn’t for the chirping birds and the huffing horses in the distance, you would’ve forgotten where you were.

“Not yet, just a little longer.” She says— demands even.

You sob out a moan, akin to a tantrum, “I can’t— fuck — I can’t.” 

Sevika plants a kiss on the corner of your lips; her fingers refusing to stop hitting your rough spot. “You can, baby. You don’t want me to stop, do you?” She whispers.

She puts up a good point you can’t argue. You don’t want her to stop, you’d hate for her to stop. “N- No, but maybe slow— hnng— d— shit— down?” You bargain half-heartedly in stutters and stammers.

“Where’s the fun in that? And if you come right now, so help me god.” She growls. Yet, the way she’s fucking you is telling you the opposite; there’s a thin line on torture and mind-breaking pleasure she’s crossing and you love it. You try not to love it too much before you explode on the spot. 

She can see how much you're trying, squirming, whining with every fast-paced stroke. One word from her and you’d come undone: that’s her favorite part. She extends her free arm, the one propping your leg up, and she puts four fingers on your clit, then rubs it harshly. That does it. You actually can’t hold it anymore unless you want half an orgasm. Your head jerks back and Sevika’s cowboy hat begins to slide off your head. There’s tears in your eyes, your legs are weak and shaking. You need it, you need it bad.

And she gives it to you. “Such a good girl. Go on, come for me.” 

Your release hits hard, like a cork popping off a champagne bottle. Your eyes pin shut as it reverberates down to your toes, and courses up your spine. You let out high-pitched, breathy moans, and Sevika harmonizes— not mockingly — soothingly, as she softly rubs out your orgasm. Your underwear falls back in place as she removes her fingers out of you and off of you. You wince and she murmurs an apology with a smug smile. 

“Holy shit,” You exhale as your legs fall over Sevika’s thighs. You can feel the air getting warmer, and as your eyes flutter open, the sky is colored a blue only a risen sun could paint. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She replies with a smile.

“Your turn now.”

She laughs heartily, briefly biting her lower lip, “But I thought the breakfast was gonna get cold?” 

You grin, “‘That’s what microwaves are for.’”

[pastryfication]

dancing with our hand tied — oscar piastri

love at first sight isn’t something you’ve given much thought in your eighteen years of life, but when you meet oscar, that changes completely. just too bad that your brother doesn’t approve at all.

bringing back a very old request that i started on a light-year ago… part two here

Lando kept his hand squeezed tightly in yours all the way through the paddock, not even letting go to stop and sign the merchandise fans were so eagerly holding up towards him. It confused the committed Formula 1 fans who weren’t used to seeing him in such a hurry, and especially not on media day. What was wrong with him?

The answer wasn’t what. The answer was found in the person being dragged behind him, almost running to keep up with his brisk pace. You.

It was your first race since last year’s Silverstone—where you’d been flanked by your entire family and therefore hadn’t been alone for a single second—so your older brother was terribly afraid that you would somehow get lost and scared and hurt, and he would be damned if that happened on his watch. Not when his parents so very generously had given him responsibility of you for the weekend. A responsibility he took very seriously. 

It was no secret that you were Lando’s baby. The youngest of five, you were the whole family’s baby to be completely precise, but Lando had always been especially fond of you. 

Maybe it came from the little boy who was shorter than two of his younger sisters and therefore claimed the third his favourite. Maybe it was the way you had always looked up him; staring at him through big, admiring eyes as though he could do nothing wrong, even when he felt like he screwed up everything. Or maybe it was just a classic case of caring older brother who remembered the small, innocent baby who had been placed in his seven-year-old arms and wanted you to stay that way forever.  

Whatever it was, it was clear to everyone that you were Lando’s baby. 

“You’ll stay right here, okay?” Lando was looking at you with his most serious expression, and you bit your cheek to stop yourself from reminding him that you had turned eighteen last month. Technically, you were an adult now, and he didn’t have the same power over you that he used to, but you were pretty sure that he wouldn’t like to hear that, so you held yourself back and instead gave him a nod in reply.

“I won’t move a single inch, Lan, I swear.” You assure him, holding back a giggle at his deep frown. “I’ve been here before, you know.”

“Yeah, but never alone.” He looked around worriedly, as if willing a familiar face to spring out and look after you. “There isn’t even someone from Oscar’s family to keep you company.”

“I think I’ll be fine either way.” 

He didn’t seem convinced, far from actually, but when he was called upon by his PR-manager, he had no choice but to leave you to your own devices, but not without a lingering kiss to your hair and yet another warning look that you shrugged off with a teasing smile. 

-

Oscar couldn’t recognise you. He was standing in the hospitality, waiting for his morning coffee to be made, when he spotted you from across the room. You were sitting alone on the best sofa with a glass of iced tea resting beside you like it was the most normal thing in the world, but he had no idea who you were.

The area around the screens was usually reserved for friends and family of the drivers, but he was alone this weekend and Lando hadn’t mentioned anyone coming either. Maybe you were confused and had planted yourself there by mistake. It didn’t hurt anyone, he thought to himself, deciding to let the matter rest, but when you turned around and he caught sight of your face, it seemed that any excuse to start up a conversation with you would be good.

He wasn’t a very poetic person, had barely passed English literature in high school, but the way you looked could simply not be described as anything but divine. 

His breath hitched in his throat and when his coffee was placed on the counter, he picked it up with more eagerness than ever before and set off towards the couch.

“Hi,” He was smiling politely, trying desperately not to seem too diligent. “Are you lost?” 

You looked up from your phone, surprised. “No, I don’t think so. Am I not allowed to sit here?”

“Well, this area is actually reserved for family of the drivers…” He shrugged apologetically.

“Oh, well I am family! Have we never met? I’m Lando’s sister.” You hesitated for a moment, scanning his face. It was the first time you saw him up close, but he looked exactly as he did on all the pictures you had found yourself staring at a bit too long. 

He was taken aback for a moment, a frown forming between his eyebrows. “Really? I’ve never seen you around before. I’m Oscar.”

He held out his hand, and you took it, shaking it carefully. His skin was warm and rough, contrasting to your smooth palms. 

“I know.” You answered. “That you’re Oscar, I mean. I think everyone here knows that.”

He held back a smile, a small blush forming on his cheeks. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You both smiled for a moment, keeping eye contact. “Well, sorry for assuming that you didn’t know what you were doing.” He looked around for a moment. “Can I join you?”

You smiled. “Yeah, of course.” You scooted to the side, allowing him to sit.

-

That night, after had Lando dropped you off at the hotel room directly across from his (because apparently a few meters was paramount to your safety), you were lying awake, tossing and turning. 

Your conversation with Oscar kept playing in your mind; the way he looked at you, eyes full of wonder, the way his hand accidently brushed yours, causing warmth to flutter through your body, and most importantly, the way he paid so close attention to what you were saying, as if you weren’t a young teenager, but instead an intelligent equal, with interesting knowledge and opinions. It had left you flustered, staring after him when he eventually had to leave for his obligations.

He was cute. 

-

The rest of the race weekend went by routinely, Lando breathing down your neck as always, following you around like an overly eager guard dog, but this time, you kept sneaking glances to the other side of the garage, hoping to catch a look at Oscar. Just a small glimpse of his blond hair would have made you happy, but it was near impossible when Lando insisted you stay in the far corner, out of “harm’s way”.

Therefore, it was no surprise when you boarded the plane towards London on Monday with no other interactions with Oscar than your first conversation, and even though you couldn’t explain why, it made your heart ache in a weird way. Apparently, he felt the same. 

liked by lando, oscarpiastri and 9.282 others.

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Oscar ended up staying almost a week, sleeping in your apartment with you, waiting on your couch when you came home from university, and making dinner together each evening in your small kitchen. You had become almost domestic by the time he had to leave again, and you felt as though you had known the crooked smiled boy for years, not a mere few weeks, when it finally came to saying goodbye at the airport. Oscar was hesitant to leave as well, stopping several times to look back, even after you’d hugged and kissed for more time than considered normal.

When he finally was out of sight, you stood still for a moment too, felling heavier than you had in a while, now that you had to go home to an empty apartment for the first time in what felt like forever. 

You were just about to turn around when your phone buzzed in your hand. Oscar was calling.

You picked up on the second ring, immediately pressing the phone to your ear as a smile broke onto your face again.

“Hi,” Your voice was a bit breathless even though you were standing completely still. 

“Hi,” he retorted, a smile evident in his voice. “I just wanted to hear your voice again. Make sure you weren’t just a dream I made up.”

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“You don’t know what you’re doing!” Lando was distressed, pacing the floor of your apartment as his voice gradually got louder. He was high on adrenaline, shaking from the inside and out, but his voice was firm.

“I do know what I’m doing. I’m in a mature, committed relationship with a guy that I like.” You were sitting on the couch, staying infuriatingly calm and standing your ground despite the way he was riling you up.

“You don’t know what a mature relationship is.” He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You’ve had what? One boyfriend? One fucking high school boyfriend?” The way he stood, tall and deafening, while you slowly shrank in on yourself on the couch made you feel like a little kid again. “Don’t act like you know anything about a mature relationship. You don’t. And Oscar is taking advantage of that.”

His words pierced like a blade in your stomach, twisting around a knife he had planted when he first started shouted.

“Don’t be mean.” Your voice broke on the last syllable. “You don’t know anything, Lando.”

He flinched at the way you said his name. No teasing, no affection, no Lan. He softened his voice then, still demeaning, still piercing through you, but quieter now, more like the careful softness he usually held around you. 

“I do know, though.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I have seven years more experience than you in every field there is. And you who also has that? Oscar.”

“He’s not using me, Lan. He’s not.” You were crying now, couldn’t stop it when he was looking at you like that, like you were letting him down. He was making you question everything about the boy who had slept so many nights in your bed, caressing your hair, kissing your bare skin, and telling you how beautiful you were. Had it really been too good to be true? Had it been lies upon lies?

Lando’s resolve softened even further when he caught sight of your tears, a cooing sound immediately escaping him. He tried to reach out, to comfort you the same way he had done so many times before, but you flinched away, willing yourself to disappear completely into the couch and he swore he felt his heart break in his chest. 

“Just think about it, okay? Don’t jump into it too fast.” His hand was hovering over your back, fingers clenching in desperation. He just wanted to stop the tears still streaming freely from your eyes. “I just want what’s best for you. You know that.”

And you knew that. That was the worst part. That was the problem. 

PART TWO HERE

[obsessedwithceleste]

Lilac You A Lot

Theodore Nott x reader

week 2 of @acourtofchaos ‘s Festival of AUs

Summary: flower shop! au— Theo just wanted to send his roommate hate flowers…

word count: 3.4k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

The shop was quiet as you carefully trimmed the leaves off of a fresh shipment of daffodils, placing each stem into a new vase with care. It was a bright and sunny day with white, fluffy clouds floating through the sky and a light breeze carrying bubbles down the street as children chased after them. Out the window you could see families and couples alike enjoying the beautiful spring day, one of the first of the year. Truly picturesque.

It's perfect, and serene, and completely ruined by the loud thud of the door slamming open, the bell above the door letting out a sharp ring. Your eyes shoot up, alarmed by the sudden noise and a bit annoyed that your peace had been so rudely interrupted. A tall boy with fluffy brown hair comes storming in, a scowl marring his his face as he slams a wad of cash onto the counter in front of you.

"What do you got in here that I could give to someone to say something along the lines of 'you're the worst and I actually hate you?'" the boy asks.

You blink, sure you must have misheard the boy.

“Sorry?” You ask, completely dumbfounded by the request.

People often underestimated how strange some requests could get working at a flower shop, and you’d seen a lot of weird stuff, but this was new.

The boy blinks back as if he’s confused how you’re confused.

“You know how some flowers have certain meanings? Got anything that says ‘fuck you’ or something of the sort?” he replies.

Your mouth forms an “o” as you finally realize what he’s asking before you begin tapping your lips, brainstorming. Stepping out from behind the counter you begin meandering about the shop as the boy follows behind.

"Well. I suppose we'll start with orange lilies then, to represent hatred," you say, carefully picking out a few of the blossoms. "Then maybe some tansy? The Victorians used those as a declaration of war," you mutter under your breath, plucking a handful of the yellow blooms.

The boy just nods along as you continue down your path.

"Definitely yellow carnations for disdain and disappointment. And then perhaps some black dahlias to finish it off? Those are known for betrayal."

You glance up, waiting for the boy's approval only for him to shrug in response.

"You're the expert here, I trust your judgement," he says, giving you a lopsided grin.

For the first time, you realize how handsome the boy in front of you is and you feel a faint tinge of red make its way up to your cheeks as you quickly turn back to the counter. Setting down your assortment of flowers, you delicately trim each one, arranging them into a nice bouquet before wrapping the whole thing up in thick brown paper.

The whole time the boy watches you quietly, hands tapping away on the counter as you work.

"So. You guys get a lot of business here?" he asks awkwardly as you begin to ring the flowers up on the register.

"Um, I suppose," you reply absent mindedly, tapping away on the screen. "Mostly from funeral homes and the like."

The boy lets out a wheeze and your eyes go wide, realizing what you'd just said.

"And anniversaries!" you say quickly, trying to salvage the situation. "Lots of anniversary bouquets. And Valentines day is always busy."

You nervously glance up, wanting to gauge how poorly the conversation is going, but the boy just laughs, shaking his head a bit as his gaze meets yours.

"Um, I have to ask," you say, clearing your throat, "What this particular bouquet is about? I've never had someone come in asking for 'fuck you' flowers. Apologies sure. All the time. But this is a new one."

"They're for my roommate," the boy responds bashfully, "he's been acting like a dick lately and I sort of snapped at him this morning before I left. Want to apologize without actually apologizing."

Now it's your turn to laugh as you finish ringing in the order, reaching out for the bills that had been left on the counter. At the same time, the boy goes to push the money towards you, his fingers brushing against yours as you feel heat returning to your cheeks.

You quickly wrap up the transaction, printing out the receipt and sliding it over the counter along with the flowers.

"Have a good day," you chirp, returning to the daffodils you had abandoned when the boy first entered the shop.

"Yeah, thanks a bunch," his eyes flicker down to the small plastic name tag that was clipped to the front of your shirt, "y/n."

"No problem," you reply with a tight lipped smile.

"Theo. My name is Theodore," he finishes before giving you a small wave and disappearing out the door.

Truth be told, you really weren't expecting to see Theo again, well, ever. Not in the flower shop at least anyway. About a month had gone by and you'd all but forgotten about the boy, save for the funny story the whole encounter had made. So when the little bell above the shop door rings out, Theo's fluffy hair and tight lipped grin were the last things on your mind. But now they were walking towards you.

You look up, surprised to see the boy as you set aside the irises you'd been preening.

"Hey there! Back for another bouquet of hatred and disappointment?" you ask.

Theo smiles.

"'Fraid not this time. Going more for 'love and happiness' this time around," he says.

You can feel the smile on your face falter for a split second before your warm smile returns. So what he had a special someone? You'd met him once, it really was none of your business.

"Course," you reply, flowers already coming to mind as you lead Theo through the shop. "Think we'll start with pink roses this time then, for joy and positivity. Lavender for devotion. And maybe some white daisies," you decide, plucking a few of those as well. "Those stand for pure and joyful love."

Once again, Theo just nods along, eyes scanning the rows and rows of flowers, all organized by color and size. It really was a beautiful little shop.

"What about those? I think she said she liked those pink ones over there," he says, making his way over to the vase that held your pink carnations.

"Those are, definitely a choice. Carnations represent beauty, pink ones specifically are known to represent motherly love," you reply.

Theo is quite for a moment, weighing his options as his finger tips brush the soft pink petals.

"Can we add a few?" he asks finally.

You nod, pulling out a handful of the delicate flowers and bringing them back up to the counter. You methodically begin trimming each stem, the movements practically second nature to you at this point. When you're finally done arranging the flowers, you present the bouquet to Theo for his approval and receive a small nod.

"Your partner is lucky, these flowers are gorgeous," you say, trying to make small talk as you begin tapping away at your register.

"Oh no, these aren't-" Theo all but splutters as you look up from the screen.

It looks like he can't tell whether he should laugh or be utterly horrified by your words.

"It's my mother's birthday," he explains quickly, hand rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Hey wait a second, you thought I would put flowers that stand for motherly love into to bouquet for a partner?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing at the realization.

"Alright, in my defense, the last time you were in here you were buying hate flowers. I figured it was best to just not question it," you reply, not able to help the small laugh that escapes your lips.

"I don't even have a partner," Theo mumbles as his laughter joins yours, his face tinged red.

"Well. if you did, I'm sure they'd be very lucky, even if they were receiving motherly love flowers," you reply lightly, as you hand over the bouquet. "And I hope your mom has a wonderful birthday."

Theo stiffens, shifting awkwardly as you silently curse to yourself. Dear god what had you said now?

"Well, she actually, kind of, passed away," Theo replies.

You feel your hand slap over your mouth, eyes going wide as you scramble to apologize.

"I'm so sorry-"

Theo cuts you off.

"No, no. You didn't know. I don't even know why I brought it up, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking," he rushes out, gripping the stems of the flowers so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

"It's not your fault. It must be a hard day. Um, but for what it's worth, I really am sorry.”

You can see Theo visibly relax, his grip on the flowers loosening and a slight smile returning to his lips.

“Thanks.”

And just like that he’s gone again.

Mattheo lets out a long, low whistle as Theo sets down yet another vase of yellow, orange, and black blossoms on the countertop.

"For me?" he asks, batting his eyes at his brown haired roommate who just scowls.

"You see, this? This is exactly why I bring you these flowers," Theo scoffs, batting Mattheo away from the bouquet he'd just placed down.

"You reward him with flowers for being an annoying prat?" Lorenzo asks dryly from his spot on the couch.

Theo glares at his other so called friend. While Enzo might not officially be their third roommate, he was practically a permanent fixture in their shared apartment. Though he wouldn't be for long with that attitude if Theo had anything to say about it.

"No, no dear Enz. Theo isn't getting flowers because he cares about me. He just wants an excuse to see the pretty shop clerk that works there. Why do you think he's suddenly constantly showing up everywhere with flowers?" Mattheo teases.

It was true as much as Theo didn't want to admit it. In the past month and a half he'd basically had weekly visits to your flower shop looking for any excuse to stop by. The Malfoys invited them over for dinner? Hydrangeas for Narcissa. Daphne's younger sister was ill again? Blue chrysanthemums and a get well soon card. Pansy's birthday bash? Pink tulips. He'd actually gotten into a bit of trouble for that one after Pansy told Draco he should take a page from Theo's book and get her flowers from time to time.

Enzo leans back on the sofa, a familiar sly smirk forming on his face as he stretches his legs out on the coffee table.

"Really? Maybe we outta take a trip to this flower shop Matt. See what all the fuss is about," he suggests.

"Like hell you will," Theo snorts, grabbing the nearest item off the counter, a suspiciously brown banana, and chucking it at Lorenzo.

The other boy catches the rotten fruit with ease as he laughs gleefully at how easy it was to get under Theo's skin.

“Well are you gonna ask ‘em out or not?” Mattheo asks. “Cause at the rate you’re going, this apartment is going to end up a greenhouse.”

The scowl on Theo’s face deepens as he rolls his eyes and joins Lorenzo on the opposite side of the sofa. His phone buzzes, screen lighting up as he quickly flips the phone over, trying to slip it into his pocket. Enzo is faster though.

“Nah ah, I saw that Nott. What’re you trying to hide?” His eyes gleaming at the idea of yet another chance to tease his friend.

“It’s no one,” Theo groans, head falling back onto the couch cushion behind him.

“No one wouldn’t have you trying to hide your phone. What? Does flower power have competition or something?” Mattheo questions.

Theo doesn’t reply which only causes the grins on Mattheo and Enzo’s faces to grow.

“Is that your little flower shop lover?” Enzo asks excitedly, leaning forward.

But they all already knew the answer.

“Been holding out on us, eh?” Mattheo laughs as Theo tries his best to melt into the sofa. “If you like ‘em that much, just ask ‘em out. We won’t scare them off or nothin’. Who knows, maybe they’ll even like us bet-“

Mattheo is cut off by the thud of a pillow hitting him square in the face.

“I’m getting around to it,” Theo mutters.

When the bell above the shop door rings out, you look up half expecting to see Theo sauntering towards you; so when you see a head of platinum blonde hair that definitely did not belong to Theo stalking towards you instead, you’re more than a little surprised.

The brunette boy had been coming in a lot more frequently as of late. Not that you were complaining of course. You’d even managed to procure the boy’s number, though it had taken a bit of stumbling from the both of you. Nevertheless, you liked talking to him. Something about the two of you just seemed to click.

You’re brought back to reality when the boy slams his wallet onto the counter, eerily mirroring your first encounter with Theo.

“Can I help you?” You ask cautiously, giving the boy a healthy amount of side eye.

“I need the most expensive and most romantic bouquet of flowers you can make me,” the boy replies.

“Um, just how extravagant are we talking here?”

The boy narrows his eyes.

“Whatever will make those pink tulips you did for Theo last week look like they were found in a gas station dumpster,” he replies, speaking as though he’d never said anything more important in his life.

The only thing that stops you from bursting out laughing on the spot is the boy’s mention of Theo. If he didn’t have your full, undivided attention before, he certainly did now.

“You know Theo?” You ask, tilting your head and trying to sound as nonchalant as humanly possible.

“Yeah, and can you believe him? Shows up to my girlfriend’s birthday bash with a big ole bouquet of flowers. Completely steals my thunder. Do you know what Pansy has been saying to me? She says ‘Draco you should take a page out of Theo’s book for once.’ She says ‘Theo has been bringing everyone the most lovely flowers.’ ‘Theo is so considerate, blah blah blah.’ As if I wasn’t there when he brought my mother those hydrangeas. Lovely work by the way. But it isn’t as if he’s doing anything special, he’s not even the one doing the brunt of the work. And of course I know all about you already. Theo won’t shut up about you.”

You can’t help but be amused by, who you assume is Draco, as he continues to monologue about how completely overshadowed he’s been since Theo found the flower shop. And you also can’t help but notice the way Theo seemed to have talked about you quite a bit to his friends. Your heart flutters a bit in your chest at the thought before you decide it would probably be best to steer Draco back on course.

“I think we have a couple dozen red roses that have your name on them,” you say with a breathy laugh as you direct him towards the back of the shop.

You were on your toes today. You’d been texting Theo all morning when he casually mentioned possibly swinging by the shop that afternoon and now your eyes were snapping up towards the door at every little noise in anticipation. It was getting bad. You were down horrendously.

The only sounds now in the quiet shop was the soft snipping of your gardening sheers as you focus in on your new batch of orchids. There'd been a huge order of them placed and you'd always found them a bit hard to work with. Especially since their stems needed so many extra supports.

You're so wrapped up wrestling your orchids and trying to get them to stand upright, that you don't even notice the light ring of the bell above the door, or the familiar tapping of fingers on the counter, or the intense gaze focused on you- happy to just watch and observe quietly.

It's not until you finally step back, mostly satisfied with your work that you notice the boy who'd snuck in.

"What do you think?" you ask him, proudly showing off the rows of plants you'd been laboring over.

Theo just smiles giving one of the flowers a soft poke and causing it to spring free of the stake that held it in place. Your smile drops as you glare at the offending plant, clipping it back into place.

"You know if you're going to continue to cause problems, I'll have to ask you to leave," you quip as you check over the rest of the pots to make sure they're all secure.

"Oh come on now, you wouldn't kick out your favorite customer," Theo replies, that grin on his face telling you that he knew well and good that you'd never actually make good on your threat.

"Well I don't know about favorite, let's not push it. You know I'm quite fond of Mr. Lupin. Comes in every Sunday to get his wife sunflowers," you tease as Theo just rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you. "Oh and speaking of favorite customers, I had the funniest conversation with one just the other day. You might know him. Platinum blonde hair-"

"Draco was here?" Theo asks in horror, cutting you off.

"Mhmm. Would not stop going on about how you kept showing him up bringing flowers everywhere."

You can see Theo visibly gulp.

"He, mention anything else?"

"Mmm, just that you never shut up about me or the flower shop," you reply with a taunting grin.

"Yeah well, how could I not when you've been such a help in slowly breaking down Draco's sense of self worth."

"I'm sure. So what are we putting together today? More hate flowers? Or a retaliation bouquet perhaps since Draco walked out of here with four dozen red roses?"

"Four dozen- he was being serious then? Alright. Um, I'm actually here for something a little different today. I uh, have a list of what I want," he tells you, pulling out his phone. "Let's see, I wanted to start with peonies."

You raise your eyebrows, surprised he'd brought a list as you both usually just made it up as you went, but you step out from behind the counter, easily seeking out the pretty, pink flowers.

"You're lucky it's peony season, we only get these beauties for a couple months of the year," you tell him as you begin to gather them up. "What's next?"

"Uh, pink roses? And I was also thinking baby's breath," he replies, following you dutifully through the rows of flowers.

You could clearly see where this bouquet was headed, you weren't dumb. No wonder he'd already picked out the flowers himself, you think wistfully to yourself as you continue to pull flowers from their pots.

"And then the last one is lilac," Theo says, stashing his phone back into his pocket as he glances nervously around the shop.

You give a small nod, collecting the last of the blooms before taking your usual path back up to the counter. There's an awkward silence as you begin to arrange the bouquet, evening out stems and plucking off stray leaves. Theo just watches quietly like he usually does, apparently oblivious to the sinking feeling in your gut.

When you finally finish, you hand Theo the flowers and he pays quickly before shyly thrusting the flowers back over the counter at you. Your brows furrow, head tilting in confusion.

"For you," Theo clarifies as you hesitantly take the flowers. "I looked up all the flowers. The peonies for uh, love and good fortune, and the pink roses for admiration. The baby's breath is for everlasting love, and the lilac stands for first emotions of love. Or at least that's what google told me. But, I was wondering, if you maybe, possibly wanted to go out sometime?"

You can’t help the giddy smile that appears on your face at his words, or the way your face presses gently against the petals of the flowers as you inhale.

“Of course. I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me,” you reply, setting the flowers back down.

“That obvious huh?” Theo asks, the pink tinge returning to his cheeks.

“Nobody needs flowers for as many random functions as you’ve had in the past two months Theo. Not even someone trying to crush his friend’s ego into the ground.”

My all-time favorite flower shop prompt🤗

[alastor-simp]

“𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊?” - 𝒟𝑜𝓇𝓂 𝐿𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓂𝒶𝓏𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒻/𝒷𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇👩🏻‍🍳 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉 1/2

✮⋆˙ Summary: Despite being a magicless student in NRC, you are extremely talented in the kitchen. Hanging out with your boyfriend, you hear his stomach grumble, allowing the first thought to come to your mind, “Want me to make something for you?”

✮⋆˙ Pairings: Riddle Roseheart x Reader, Leona Kingscholar x Reader, and Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

✮⋆˙ Genre: Fluff and Romance

✮⋆˙ Tags: Chef Reader, Cooking, Love Language, Cooking for Others, Acts of Service, Love Language: Acts of Service, Dorm Leaders x Reader, Female Chef Reader, Twisted Wonderland, Headcannons

✮⋆˙ Credit: Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

✮⋆˙ Looking For Part 2 -> X

Riddle Rosehearts🌹

🌹Riddle couldn't process what you said. You wanted to make something for him? He was pleased, but then the guilt came, He didn't want to trouble you with something like that. "Y/N!, y-you don't need to do that. I can always grab something from the cafeteria." Shaking your head, you grabbed his hand, pulling him along with you. "Nope~ I'm making you something. Now come on, show me where the kitchen is here in Heartslabyul."He went red, from shyness, not anger, as he gave in to you, telling you exactly where the dorm kitchen was, while giving your hand a soft squeeze.

🌹Having entered the kitchen, you realized it was empty, perfect, as both you and Riddle can be alone together. Pointing to the stool, you told Riddle to take a seat, as you went to get ready. Grabbing the apron and chef hat, you gave a huff of approval as you neared the sink, washing your hands. "So, have you thought of what you wanted?" Smiling up at Riddle, you awaited his answer, as he sat in a daze, until he realized you were talking to him.

🌹"Well I..." He placed his hand on his chin, giving it a thought. Leaning closer on the kitchen island, your hands held your face up, eyes sparkling, making him blush. "What are you craving? Pizza, soup, pasta, salad, cake, cookies? I can make anything you want. Ask away!" His mind was racing, unable to think of anything with you looking at him like that. His mind went to strawberry tarts, but he didn't want you to make something that required a long time to prepare, plus he wanted to eat something that gave him his nutritional needs. "Sandwich?" Riddle asked, wearing a soft smile.

🌹Without a word, you nodded your head and got to work, grabbing the essential ingredients, but adding a twist as you grabbed milk bread in the pantry, strawberries, sugar and whipping cream. Riddle watched you prep up, admiring how at ease you looked, remembering how nervous he was in the Culinary Crucible, when he was attempting to make cabbage rolls. Cooking wasn't at all like alchemy, as he originally thought, seeing how certain measurements and tools to prep were different despite them being almost similar. There was a part of him that wanted to improve his skills in the kitchen, maybe you could teach him?

🌹Riddle thoughts were interrupted as a plate was pushed in front of him. "Here you go, enjoy!" You said, with a smile, waiting for Riddle to try it. Looking at the sandwich, Riddle noticed that it wasn't a regular sandwich, seeing strawberries inside the bread, instead of meat and vegetables. "What is this?" He questioned, not knowing what it was you had prepared. "Oh, you never had a strawberry sando before? It's a fruit sandwich, so the bread is milk bread, adding a soft texture, and there is whipped cream inside along with strawberries. They are very popular in my world, plus I know how much you like strawberries, so I figured this was perfect to make for you."

🌹His mouth was shaped like a "O" as he continued to stare at you and the sandwich. Even when asked to make a sandwich, you made it in a way that suited his taste preferences? His heart couldn't stop thumping like crazy. Gauging Riddle's reaction, you worried, thinking he was upset, "Oh, do you not like it? I can't make another san-" Your words were cut off by him, "NO...no...the sandwich is perfect. Thank you, Y/N." Riddle picked it up, as he whispered "Itadakimasu" and bit into the sandwich. The delicious taste of whipped cream and the sweetness of the strawberries made Riddle hum in delight, eyes shining brightly from how amazing it was.

🌹"Hehe, judging by your reaction, I'm guessing you like it." Riddle nodded, as he continued to eat the sandwich, giving out a satisfied hum as he finished, using a napkin to clean his face. "Thank you again, my rose." His pure smile was making your heart melt, this boy was way too adorable. Walking over to him, you patted his head, making him stiffen at first, until he finally relaxed. "You're welcome Riddle. Whenever you are craving something or hungry, just ask me, okay?" Riddle leaned into the sensation, until you pulled away, making him a bit sad, but he smiled up at you. "Alright. Just make sure whatever you make me doesn't violate the 810 rules, understand?"

🌹Raising your eyebrow, you smirked at him, "Oh? And if it does, you going to throw what I made you away? How cruel" Stuttering, Riddle shook his head, recalling how he reacted with the Mont Blanc tart incident "N-no I wou-." He got cut off when you kissed his cheek, "Joking~" Calming down, Riddle looked down shyly, mumbling that he will eat whatever you make him, causing you to laugh as you kissed him again, making him flush with a mini smile on his face.

🌹What You Made For Riddle + Recipe🌹

Recipe- Strawberry Sando

Leona Kingscholar🦁

🦁Leona was napping in his room, while you were laying on the bed with him, well with him on top of you, as he nuzzled his head into your stomach, soft snores escaping him. You then hear a loud sound coming from him, recognizing that was a stomach grumble. "Hey Leona, want me to make you something to eat?" You whispered, not too soft though as you wanted him to hear you. Leona motioned his head up, one of his eyes opened, having woken up when you said that to him. "What?" He questioned you, thinking he was still dreaming. Looking down at him, you smiled, "Do you want me to make you something? I heard your stomach." You repeated what you said, making Leona smirk as he closed his eyes again, ready to go back to sleep. "I don't need herbivore food. Ruggie can bring me something anyway"

🦁He got a flick to the forehead, opening his eyes at you with a glare. "I'm not gonna make you a salad, Leona. I know you don't like vegetables. You're not gonna allow your girlfriend to cook for you?" You teased him, as you watched his ears twitch, tail moving when you said that, but he just turned, moving his body off of you, laying on the bed this time, mumbling a whatever as he went back to sleep. Smirking, you bent down to kiss his cheek, as you got up from the bed, heading out to shop for the ingredients. "Oy." You stopped, hearing Leona speak, turning to see a wallet being thrown towards you, as you caught it, looking at him confused. "Use that to buy what you need." He said, as he remained laying down on the bed. Smiling, you put the wallet in your pocket, as you headed out, closing the door behind you softly.

🦁Getting what you needed from the market a few minutes from NRC, you placed the bags on the kitchen counter, letting out a huff. Ruggie was kind enough to leave you alone in the kitchen, but not before telling you to promise him to save him some leftovers with whatever you made. Looking around, you found an apron and chef hat, putting them on as you started to wash your hands. Going to the bags, you pulled out the ground beef, onions, breadcrumbs, Worcestershire sauce, ketchup and potatoes. You chopped and sauteed the onions and then add them to the ground beef, mixing in other ingredients, then forming the meat into patty's. Getting the frying pan, you cooked the meat, covering it, as you began to work on the potatoes, peeling them.

🦁A pair of arms wrapped around your stomach, making you jump, as you felt a head land on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. Humming, you leaned your head against him, as you continued to peel the potatoes. "Hi." He said against your shoulder, making you respond back with a "Hi" as well. He continued to hold you, feeling his tail curl against your leg, make you giggle. "Leona, as much as I love you, I can't cook like this." With a grumble, he pulled away, motioning his body to sit against the chair, near the kitchen table, propping his head up with his hand, as he continued to watch you, emerald eyes gazing at you intensely.

🦁Once the meat was done, you prepared the sauce for them, while you finished boiling the potatoes, pureeing them to mash as you set them aside. Once everything was all set, you plated it well, turning around to Leona, who was surprisingly awake. Setting the plate down, you gave Leona a soft smile, "Its hamburg steak with mashed potatoes! I hope you like it." Leona look disinterested in it, but his tail and ears gave him away as they continued to move. Grabbing the fork, he took a piece of the meat off and raised it to his lips, taking a bite. You watched him intently, gauging his reaction. He remained the same, not even a crack of a smile, but he continued to eat, finishing the whole plate as well as the mashed potatoes, not expecting him to like them since they were part of the vegetables family. He licked his lips, before smirking at you, "Not bad, herbivore. I might hire you as my personal chef."

🦁Happy that he enjoyed it, you smiled, grabbing the plate as you began to wash up. "Glad you liked it. I was worried for a second since I'm not the best at making fancy dishes." Leona scrunched his eyebrows at that, "What you mean by fancy?" Moving your hands in the sink, you explained that he was a prince, especially growing up in a kingdom, he had a more variety to expensive delicious dishes, so you worried that what you made wouldn't fare well with what he's probably had before in his hometown.

🦁You felt your body being lifted up, turned around as he set you on the counter, using his body and arms to cage you, a predator corning his prey. He smirked down at you, as he leaned closer into your face, "Prince. Not a prince. It shouldn't matter. I'll eat whatever you make me, Herbivore, as long as you make it for me and me alone." Heart beating in your chest, your cheeks flushed as you gazed at Leona, as he leaned closer, enjoying your reaction. "Even a salad?" Teasing him back, you watch his expression drop, giving you a semi-glare. "Don't push it." Laughing, you grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss, which he reciprocated back, pulling you closer.

🦁The two of you continued the kissing session, until you realized that you were still in the kitchen and that you needed to clean up. "Leona, hold on, we can't do this here." You said between kisses, out of breath from how passionate he was. Leona let out a deep chuckle, as he pulled away slightly, "Why not? It's my dorm anyway." Pushing him back, you got off the counter, trying to steady yourself. "I know that, but still. Besides, I have to clean up plus I promised Ruggie I leave him something." Leona let out a soft growl, as he grabbed your chin, lifting it up to look at him. "Bringing up another man's name in front of me huh? Didn't I say for me and me only?"

🦁Unamused, you removed his hand from your chin. "Hey! He was nice enough to let me use the kitchen and he made sure no one else came in, knowing that the other students in this dorm would have grabbed what I was cooking and run away with it. The hyena boy deserves it." You went back to cleaning, as Leona let out a hmph and sat back down on his chair. "When I'm done, we can continue in your room." Tiling your head back to look at him, you gave a sultry look, which he responded with a smirk of his own.

🦁Having finished, setting a covered plate inside for Ruggie. Your body was then lifted up, swung over Leona's shoulders like a sack of potatoes as he headed towards his room. Grabbing your phone, you sent Ruggie a text that there was a plate for him in the kitchen and also not to disturb Leona and you.

🦁What You Made For Leona + Recipe🦁

Recipe- Japanese Hamburg Steak

Azul Ashengrotto🐙

🐙 In his office, Azul was writing away at his desk, finalizing some paperwork, while you were sitting on the chair across his desk, finishing your school work. He knew he was busy, so he arranged it that after class, the both of you would stay in his office in Mostro Lounge, enjoying each others company. He said it was just him being benevolent, but you knew that was a lie, since he absolutely adore you. A stomach growl was heard a few feet away from you, prompting you to look up from your work. Azul was still writing away, but his cheeks were slightly pink, embarrassed that you heard that.

🐙"Hungry? Want me to make you something?" You asked with a smile, putting your school work to the side. Azul dropped his pen, looking at you with shock, before he regained his composure, pushing his glasses up. "Angelfish, there is no need for you to cook for me. Besides, I'm not that hu-" Another growl came from his stomach, making his face go red, hiding it with his hands in embarrassment. "Well your stomach is telling me directly that your lying." Giggling, you got up from the chair, heading towards the door. You looked back at him, "What would you like?" Azul remained in the same position, before removing his hands, looking at you with a soft expression. "Something healthy please. I'm on a strict diet." Your heart ached at that, remembering the glimpses of his past that you saw during his Overblot, how bad his insecurity was. Giving him a kind smile, you nodded, as you headed out.

🐙Heading into the kitchen in the lounge, you saw that both Jade and Floyd were in there, Jade polishing some dishes while Floyd was sitting on the ground, criss-crossed, bored out of his mind. "Hey Leech bros." You waved at them, making them turn to look at you. "Heyyyyy Shrimp-channnnn~" Floyd tackled you into a hug, making you laugh. "Greetings, Prefect. What brings you into the kitchen?" You made your way over to the hanging apron, with Floyd dragging behind you, still holding on to you. "Azul was hungry so I'm making him something to eat." Jade smiled at your reasoning, as he continued to polish the dishes. "Oy Shrimpy. You making something for Azul and not for me? Meanie" Floyd whined in your ear, as he continued to squeeze you, as you made your way over to the sink, washing your hands.

🐙 "If you let me borrow the kitchen and make something for Azul, I'll cook something for the both of you after, okay?" You said, turning your head to look at Floyd while looking back at Jade. Floyd smiled, exposing all his teeth as he squeezed you again, making you go a bit blue. "Floyd. The prefect can't cook if you suffocate them" Floyd whined, but let you go, allowing you to breathe. "Thanks Jade." You thanked him as he gave you a closed eyed smile. Getting the ingredients, you got rice, pickled radish, chicken tenders, seaweed wrap and seasonings. Cooking the rice, you coated the tenders in breadcrumbs, deciding it be better to pan-fry it. Once that was done, you cooled the rice down as you began to cut the radish into thin strips. Jade and Floyd continued to watch you, finding your cooking very entertaining to them, while also admiring your skills.

🐙Once that was all set, you layered the rice, chicken, and radish on the seaweed wrap and rolled it, as you then grabbed a knife and slice them, making gimpap rolls. "Perfect!" Excited, you began to clean up, making sure to wipe the counters, and clean the tools you used. "Sugoi~ They look yummy." You heard Floyd say, as he held the plate in his hand, widening his jaw. "AHH! NO!" Yelling out, you jumped up, grabbing the plate from him. "These are Azul's. You'll get your food later." Floyd pouted, making grabby hands at the food, earning a chuckle from Jade. "Floyd. I will add mushrooms to your dish if you don't behave." Threatening him with a glare, Floyd immediately dropped his hands, yet he still pouted as he sat down on the ground.

🐙Holding the plate, you walked past the both up them, reaching one hand down to rub Floyd's head, earning a chuckle from him, his mood improving. Knocking on Azul's door, you heard an enter, as you opened the door, holding the plate up with a smile. "Your food is ready~" Singing out, you made your way over to him, placing the plate down gently on his desk. Azul observed the dish, with precision, wondering exactly what you made him, "What have you made me, Angelfish?" Azul looked at you then back at the dish. "Oh its chicken gimbap. There are many ways to make it, but I decided to do it with chicken this time. I pan-fried it instead, so it's healthier and the inside has rice and pickled radish inside, and the wrapping is seaweed paper."

🐙Azul's looked at you like you were the most amazing treasure in the world. He knew you knew about his love for fried chicken, but he didn't indulge in it often, wanting to maintain his figure. Yet, here comes you, making him a simple dish that was both healthy and included his favorite food, he could almost cry. "Are you okay, Azul?" He shook out of his trance, your question bringing him back to reality. "Y-yes. I'm fine. Itadakimasu." His fork stabbed one of the rolls as he held it to his mouth, putting the whole thing his mouth with elegance. His eyes widen, the juiciness of the chicken and the tanginess of the radish was irresistible. He was grabbing another one, and another and another, having finished the dish quickly, letting out a satisfied sigh.

🐙"Subarashii." was the only word he let out, turning to you with a kind smile. "Your cooking is astounding. I would love to try other dishes from you in the future." Reaching his arm out, he pulled you so you were sitting on his lap, his head nuzzling against your shoulder. His sweet gesture made your heart skip a beat, as you nuzzled your head against him. "I could make some new dishes for your business too, if you want. I know how passionate you are about it." Azul chuckled, moving his head to place a soft kiss on your cheek, then turning back to nuzzle your shoulder.

🐙The both of you remained in the position for a while, till a loud knock was heard. "OYYYYY SHRIMPY~ ME AND JADE ARE HUNGRY." Realizing you forgot about the twins, you slowly got up Azul's lap, letting him know that you promised the twins. He was already missing your warmth, but he knew that Floyd was quite insufferable when he was hungry, so he allowed you to go. His eyes watched you as you left, as he tilted his head back with a sigh. This man was so in love with you.

🐙What You Made For Azul + Recipe🐙

Recipe- Chicken Gimbap

🍱🥘🍜To be Continued In Part 2🍜🥘🍱

[kashverse]

love your writing style kash!! thank you for the beautiful fica that are so soft and heartwarming to read 😞🫰

could i request for a scenario where mamakuna is sick (like a flu/fever) and how babykuna and dadkuna work together to help her feel betterrrrr 😇 -v

the flu had been going around, and you knew it was only a matter of time before it got you. but knowing it was one thing—experiencing it was another. it hit you like a truck. fever, chills, congestion—the works. so when you called sukuna at his office, your voice hoarse and pitiful, he dropped everything, canceled an entire board meeting (screw the shareholders), and stormed out. by the time he gets home, he's expecting pure chaos. maybe the maids scrambling, maybe you barely conscious—something. instead, he walks into your shared bedroom and stops dead in his tracks.

there, at the edge of the bed, is babykuna, her tiny legs swinging, her face set in deep concentration as she places all her plushies around you in a perfect protective circle. labubu is at your pillow. sonny angel squad is stationed near your hands. he even spots one of his socks stuffed into the arrangement like some sort of talisman.

"…what are you doing?" sukuna asks, raising a brow. babykuna, without looking up, adjusts a bunny plush near your shoulder. “making mama better.” sukuna sighs, making his way to the bed, crouching beside you.

"baby, i have an entire medical team on speed dial. your mama doesn’t need—"

"papa, hush," she interrupts, waving a hand at him dismissively. “you don’t get it. they give comfort. the magic of the plushies is real.” sukuna opens his mouth, then closes it. you, meanwhile, weakly lift your hand. “it’s okay, love. i believe in the plushie magic too.” babykuna nods sagely, satisfied.

but sukuna is still sukuna, so even though he knows the maids could easily take care of you both, he wants to do it. so he sighs, rolls up his sleeves, and trudges to the kitchen. if you’re sick, then fine, he’ll do this properly. twenty minutes later, he returns with a bowl of steaming hot chicken soup, the way you like it. perfectly seasoned, just the right amount of garlic, and not a vegetable in sight (because he knows you’d push them aside). but before he can even set it down—

"mama should eat bread and jam," babykuna suddenly announces, pointing a spoon at you. sukuna’s eye twitches.

"she needs soup."

"she needs bread and jam."

"she needs something warm."

"bread is warm if you toast it."*

sukuna rubs his temples. "she doesn’t need bread and jam, brat—"

"what about appy juice?" babykuna interjects, swinging her legs, completely unfazed. "appy juice is good."

"baby, soup is literally proven to—"

"orange juice?"

"oh my god."

you, snuggled in your fortress of plushies, weakly smile, watching the two most important people in your life bicker over what’s best for you. sukuna sighs in defeat, scooping a spoonful of soup. "open up, baby," he murmurs, bringing it to your lips. before you can take a sip, babykuna gasps. 

“wait! the plushies have to approve first!”

sukuna, face blank, stares at his child. 

"…you’re kidding."

but babykuna is dead serious. she picks up labubu, holds it over the soup, then dramatically nods. “labubu says okay.” sukuna exhales slowly.

"great. tell labubu to shut up next time."

babykuna gasps in pure, unfiltered betrayal. “you take that back.” 

you, sick as you are, wheeze at the scene, your fever momentarily forgotten.

[reasonsforhope]

"In short: Thailand's Senate has approved a bill legalising same sex marriage in the South-East Asian country.

It will afford same-sex couples practical benefits such as being able to have children through IVF and make emergency medical decisions for their spouse.

What's next? The first weddings may take place later this year, 120 days after the law is announced in the Royal Gazette.

Thailand has become the first nation in South-East Asia to legalise same sex marriage, with the country's Senate approving the landmark bill this afternoon.

The legislation was expected to pass after it cleared the country's House of Representatives in a near-unanimous vote in March.

Despite Thailand's bustling gay bars and prominent transgender community making it a mecca for LGBTQ+ tourists, until now local same-sex couples there have been unable to marry.

The law will take effect 120 days after its announcement in the Royal Gazette, so the first same sex weddings may take place later this year.

Couples who have been waiting years have hailed the move as a historic moment that will afford them rights only reserved for spouses.

A Lifechanging Law

Photos of Anticha and Worawan [including the article picture], dressed in floor-length white gowns and trailed by rainbow flags, getting married at Bangkok's first Pride Festival two years ago went viral, but they are still not legally married.

Now they will be able to change that, and Anticha Sangchai is elated.

"This will change my life and change many Thai people's lives, especially in the LGBT community," she said.

"It is a historical moment and I really want to join with my community to celebrate this moment.

"I want to send a message to the world that Thailand has changed. Even though there are still many issues, this is a big step for us." ...

There were an estimated 3.7 million LGBT people in Thailand in 2022, according to LGBT Capital, a private company which models economic data pertaining to the community around the world.

For the young couple from Bangkok, being able to marry also has very real practical implications.

If they want to have children through IVF, Ms Sangchai says they will need a marriage certificate first.

"I am quite concerned about the time because we are getting older every day, and the older you get the more difficult it is to have a healthy pregnancy," she said.

"So we've been really wanting this law to pass as soon as possible."

Cabaret performer Jena is excited Thailand's laws are finally catching up with the nation's image...

She too had worried about the practical implications of being unable to marry.

"For example, if myself or my partner had to go to hospital or there was an accident that needs consent for an emergency operation, without a marriage certificate we couldn't sign it," she said.

She now wants the government to move forward with a law to allow transgender people to amend their gender on official documents." ...

An Economic Boost?

Thailand has long been famous for LGBTQ tourism and there are now hopes this new law could allow the country to cash in on the aging members of the community.

Chaiwat Songsiriphan, who runs a health clinic for people in the LGBTQ community, said laws preventing same sex marriage were the last barrier holding the country back from becoming a gay retirement hub.

[Note: They do not just mean for rich westerners; Thailand as a gay retirement hub would probably appeal most to and definitely benefit LGBTQ people from throughout Asia.]

"Thailand has an LGBTQ-friendly environment since Thai culture is quite flexible," he said.

"One of my foreigner friends, a gay friend, told me that when he's in his country he has to pretend to be straight … but when he comes to Bangkok he said you can be as gay as you want.

"When we talk about retirement or a long-term stay for the rest of their lives, what people need is … food, good healthcare services, transportation, homes.

"I think Thailand has it all at a very affordable price."

He said it could help give the country a desperately needed economic boost.

"This will have a lot of benefits for Thailand's economy because when we talk about retirement it's people literally bringing all the money they have earned for the rest of their working lives to spend and invest here," he said.

He said he, like the rest of the community, was thrilled by the news.

"It's not about a privilege, it's just equality," he said.

"We are we also humans, so we should be able to marry the one we love.""

-via ABC Australia, June 18, 2024

[rueclfer]

RUEEEEEE YOUR EVENT IS SO CUTE!!! CONGRATS ON 6K AGAIN!!! I need tomura to be my fellow barista.. in a secret relationship... we bicker at work but go home together... he doesnt care who knows but reader does... yesyes i hope u are seeing the vision 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ ILY RUEEE 🖤🖤🖤🖤

KISAW <3 THANK YEWW hehe i just kneewww you were gonna come in with a beautiful ass tomu request like RIGHT UP MY ALLEY!! ILYY

barista!tomura // job fair

event m.list

“coconut milk, idiot, i said coconut milk,” he calls out, reaching up and pushing the cartons of soy milk down the line for you to bring back to storage.

“maybe if you’d stop fucking mumbling, i would’ve heard the first time.”

you release a deep sigh of annoyance, gathering the cartons of milk in your arms. without missing a beat, you knee tomura as you walk by, and making him fall forward in his crouch in front of the open fridge.

“dickhead,” he calls out, pushing himself back up onto the balls on his feet.

“behave.” aizawa warns, nodding towards the few customers still inside the cafe.

you look over your shoulder and quickly send him an endearing wink, and stick your tongue out the way you two would often do from across the room.

the afternoon rush of university students had just died down, leaving you and tomura behind the counter restocking, spinner wiping down counters, a nearly empty cafe, and your boss sitting in the corner finishing off this period’s payroll.

you stand in the middle of the backroom, scanning the tall shelves for the box containing cartons of coconut milk once you shove the armful of soy milks back onto the counter.

from the corner of your eye, you see tomura’s shaggy blue hair come into view, peeking in from behind the door frame.

“what?” you shoot him a side eye, hands on your hip, “i’m busy looking for your coconut milk.”

though your tone is laced with annoyance and a hint of an attitude, a playful smirk remains on your lips.

tomura doesn't respond, and instead places a drink onto the stack of boxes halfway blocking the entrance, watching your face light up at the sight of the chocolate drizzle coated walls and a tall tower of whip cream

you gasp, “for me?”

“canceled online order or something like that.” he shrugs.

“a shame because this is my exact order isn’t it?” you inch towards him, closing the distance between you two. “someone’s missing out.”

“crazy coincidence.” his voice grows lower as he intensely watches you take the first sip, pride washing over him once your head starts nodding in approval.

“dairy free?” you mutter through the straw, taking in another sip of the chocolatey sweet coffee.

“duh,” he scoffs, as if you’ve offended him, “i’m not trying to have you blow up our toilet when we get home.”

you almost slap your hand over his mouth, but from the expression on your face, he already squeezed his lips into a tight line.

“are you trying to piss me off?” you scold, setting the drink down on the box.

tomura rolls his eyes. he feels like an idiot whispering to one another through the doorway in secrecy when you could’ve just not.

“are you trying to piss me off?” he retorts, cocking an eyebrow..

tomura looks over his shoulder- aizawa’s eyes glued to his laptop screen, and spinner chatting with a regular on the floor. no one up front. no one waiting for drinks.

“god,” he loudly exasperates, turning back to you, “let me show you where the coconut milk is since you can’t find it, you fucking noob.”

your jaw drops as he squeezes himself by the boxes and cornering you against the shelves.

“where’s my thank you for the drink, huh?” he mutters, grabbing onto the shelves and caging you in between his arms. “and for dealing with your bullshit today?”

heat prickles up your neck as you look up at him with a glare, obviously having no energy left to put up a fight after today’s shift.

so you indulge him. you bring your hand up to your lips, kiss the pads of your fingers, and slap them against his mouth.

“i love you,” you whisper before shoving past him, promptly leaving the backroom for him to finish restocking, and with your drink in hand.

[slasherstories123]

Could you do slashers reacting to their s/o (who never laughs no matter what) laughing for the first time, like a full in laughing fit because they saw the slashers trip or do something stupid while chasing a victim

Slashers reaction to their S/O laughing at them falling

Pairing: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, and Brahms Heelshire x gn! reader

Tags list: @dootys @callmemeelah @fluffy-little-demon @mehidktbh @the-anxious-youth @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby @callsignwidow @endomishy

Michael Myers

It was finally time for a movie night. You nearly begged for Michael to have one with you as a way to spend time together. He’s declined or have no signals and it left you frustrated. One day he finally agreed. So as a celebration, you bought him certain pajamas. It took a while to find regular plain blue ones that would be the same color of his coveralls.

Even then he approved the pajamas. Going upstairs to change after you begging him one again, even getting matching ones with him. You had everything set up on the table. A box of pizza, popcorn, and two bowls of different candy and chocolates. A large jug of water sat at the very front. Rubbing your hands together, you nearly had everything set.

Now you just needed Michael to join…

As you were about to call out for him, slow creaks came from upstairs. Maybe he was coming down. Slow steps began to come downstairs, before a loud thud at the bitten. You flinched at the loud impact. Slowly turning your head to see Michael on the ground.

He laid there. It didn’t even look like he was breathing either. His mask was pushed to the side with his arms and legs spread out. A snickered left your lips.

Michael sat up. Adjusting his mask so the dark circles could stare at you. You hid your face in the couch, hiding so you could giggle louder. When you looked back up Michael hovered above you. Making you burst out in laughter.

The sight of him on the floor never left your head, the image was stuck in your brain. Making you laugh even harder. Michael’s hands touched a pillow. Gripping it and hitting you in the face.

“Ow! It ain’t my fault you fell!” you exclaimed as he walked back upstairs…without falling this time.

You had to convince him for the next hour to have the movie night.

Jason Voorhees

He’ll only ever fall if he’s too focused to where he won’t see his surroundings.

You had to hide since trespassers were at the camp, yet you watched Jason as he followed screaming woman. What he didn’t notice was a backpack in front of him that the girl jumped over. He was focused. Too focused.

You didn’t want to shout or it would blow your cover and would get him distracted. You watched him trip over it. Landing straight on his face. Covering your mouth, you hid further behind the tree. Even then, when he fell his machete cut the fork in her back. Making her fall.

It led him to finish the job. Coming back to find you laughing on the ground. He tilted his head at your laughter. It took him a while to realize you were laughing at him.

Jason’s shoulders sulked slightly, turning his back on you.

“As come on it was funny I’m sorry!”

You walked to him. Calling down your laughter to make him look down at you. You reached your tippy toes just to place a kiss to his masked faces “There, you happy now?”

Him picking you up answered your question. Now taking you back to your shared cabin.

Brahms Heelshire

Sometimes Brahms left his toys out and never put them back. Eventually you got tired of cleaning up his mess and told him to do it himself, to which he declined too no matter what you did he still left toys around.

So, you gave up. There was no point in trying to make him do it. He’ll just have to learn the consequences a different way.

You waited for him on the couch to try and comb his hair. It might need a trim as well. After a while of waiting, you called out for him so he could hurry.

“Brahms! Come on so we can brush your hair, I’ll let you get ice cream after.”

“Ice cream?” a child voice filled your ears.

His footsteps became louder. And louder, they got eager at the mention of ice cream as a reward. Once his figure came into view, you adjusted your poster so he could sit on the ground. Brahms nearly made his way to you, his foot tripped over one of his cars. Falling on his back with a loud thud.

You were surprised that his mask didn’t fall off, but began to burst out in laughter. Pointing at him while holding onto your stomach.

“It’s not funny!” he exclaimed and sat up with a hand on his head.

You kept laughing. Curling up in a ball before flaking off the couch. Making Brahms laugh at you as payback. You would be mad, but you still couldn’t get over how Brahms fell.

Now you both laughed at each other falling. Your laughs echoing the empty manor.

[alicentsgf]

The way no one even wanted the hunt at all really, not even Lottie who suggested it. even Shauna doesn't want it, she just can't let herself be seen as weak or fearful, so she agrees to it. and Lottie... even when she suggests it, she doesn’t want the hunt. she never has. shes adopted it into her understanding of the Wilderness but it only began because of the way her suicidal ideation manifests. she desires death but it has to be the wilderness who comes for her. “life and death has always been for it to decide”. its why she walks across the pit. its why she turns her back on akilah when she knows akilah has the rock in her hand. every time they’ve drawn the cards, teen and adult timelines, Lottie has looked disappointed not to be picked. the first real instance of this instinct is her turning to Shauna and telling her to let her rage out on her and, unlike travis or akilah, shaunas experiences have made her willing to commit acts of direct violence. Lottie intended for that beating to kill her on some level, she was seeking it, and she certainly never wanted Misty to create the hunt as a way to keep her alive. She’s horrified by it in fact, but Misty forces her to accept it and adopt it into their religion to alleviate the guilt of the others (as has always been Lottie’s role). This when the wilderness and violence become explicitly and accidentally entwined in a way Lottie never intended.

So after being beaten, Lottie finds she has to see the wilderness in Shauna because of that instinct for violence Shauna has. its why Lottie switches her vote during Coach Ben’s trial as Shauna becomes more aggressive, hearing “the wilderness” in that moment. It’s why she looks to Shauna for approval after she kills the researcher, saying “it doesn’t want them here”. What she desires is violence against herself, and so the potential for violence that Shauna has is intoxicating to her. Looking into Shauna’s eyes is like “looking into the earth” because that capacity for the dark and brutal is what makes Shauna representative of the Wilderness to Lottie. How cognizant Lottie is of it I’m not sure, but its clear all this time she’s been searching for some kind of conduit for the Wilderness who's willing to take her life. In their prayer, Lottie asks Shauna’s baby to “deliver them”, a plea for absolution. forgiveness. I think ultimately Lottie sees death as her only possible path to absolution. “Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.” She has already lost herself in so many ways that death would be kind.

So imagine the thrill for her when in the middle of a hunt, Shauna’s second child shoots her in the arm. I think after perhaps years of laying dormant, it reawakens her desire. She literally looks like she's experiencing some kind of enlightenment when she says “Is this your daughter? She’s so powerful.” Finally, Lottie finds what she’s looking for. She feels innately that it’s Callie she’s been waiting for all this time. “It brought you to me.” Shauna losing her first child was supposed to kill Lottie, but it didn’t. Now Lottie gets another chance and this time finally gets what she wants, but the cost is Shauna essentially losing her second child too. All of this is why she turns up on Shauna’s doorstep even though she does have other places she could go. She's seeking out Callie because she immediately senses that under the right circumstances Callie could have an even greater capacity for violence. And it turns out maybe she was right. After all, Shauna had to undergo extreme trauma to be capable of killing someone, and even then her only direct kill that we’ve seen is Adam. Callie pushed Lottie without the threat of violence against her just because she didn’t like what Lottie had to say. Callie even takes a pause, decides, and pushes her. I believe she regrets it, but it most definitely wasn’t an accident. That is the propensity for violence Lottie has been searching for since she was a teenager because she wanted someone to end her life and (possibly because of a survival instinct deep in her subconcious) her fabricated belief system would not let that person be herself. So no, even Lottie never wanted the hunt, we literally see she doesn’t even participate in it, Lottie just wanted to die.

[joelsrose]

Crybaby

fluff drabble 🥺

It had been months of you going back and forth about getting bangs. Nothing too dramatic—just soft, wispy ones to frame your face. Joel, ever supportive, would pull you into his chest and brush your hair back, smiling. "I'd love you with no hair, baby," he’d say, his voice low and warm as you lay together in bed. The way he said it always made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world.

But today was the day. You were finally sitting in the hairdresser’s chair, heart pounding as the scissors snipped away. The first strands fell, and your stomach flipped. By the end, as you stared at your reflection, you couldn’t hide the rising panic. Shit. Shit. Shit. The bangs didn’t look anything like what you imagined. The hairdresser beamed, waiting for your approval, and you forced a smile so tight your cheeks hurt. "I love it," you lied, because what else could you do? Wish your hair back into place?

Walking home, your sniffles turned into full-blown hiccups as you fought back tears. Why did I do this? By the time you reached the front door, your head was spinning. You shoved it open, dropping your keys on the table without bothering to call out.

"Hey, baby," Joel’s voice rumbled from somewhere—maybe the living room or the kitchen. You didn’t stop to see. Instead, you bolted upstairs, your steps heavy on the wooden stairs.

Joel frowned, setting down whatever he was holding. "The hell?" he muttered under his breath, his brows knitting together. You never came home without greeting him.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, his boots clunking against the floor as he followed. "Baby?" he called out, his voice softening. He checked the bedroom, but it was empty. His eyes flicked to the slightly ajar bathroom door, and he knocked lightly. "You in here?"

"No," you replied, your voice muffled and miserable.

He chuckled, the sound warm and teasing, like he already knew you were being dramatic but didn’t mind one bit. “What’re you doin’, silly girl? Tryin’ to hide from me?”

"Joel, go away," you called back, your voice shaky with unshed tears.

Joel stayed right where he was, leaning against the doorframe, the wood creaking under his weight. "Not comin’ in, don’t worry. Just wanna talk to my girl." His voice softened, rich with concern. "What’s wrong, angel? C’mon, you know you can talk to me."

"I look ugly," you sniffled, voice small and wavering.

A pause. Then, firm and sure, "Not possible." He exhaled like he couldn’t believe you’d even think that. "C’mon, baby, what happened?"

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. "I got my haircut," you finally admitted, the words tumbling out with a shaky sob. "She—she fucked up my bangs."

Joel’s breath hitched, and you could almost hear the frown tugging at his lips. "Oh, sweetheart," he cooed, his voice dripping with tenderness. "Can I see? Please?"

"You won’t like it," you whimpered.

"Darlin’," he said, his tone low and soft, "there’s not a damn thing on this earth that could make me not like lookin’ at you. Open the door for me, baby."

"You have to promise not to laugh," you said, your voice wavering behind the closed bathroom door.

Joel’s voice was steady, warm, and laced with sincerity. "Cross my heart, darlin'. Not a single laugh, I swear."

There was a pause, and then, with a huff, you muttered, "Fine."

The door creaked open, and Joel stepped inside slowly, his movements careful and deliberate, like coaxing a scared puppy. His boots clicked softly against the tiles, and his heart twisted when he saw you—facing away, your hands buried in your face, shoulders trembling just a little.

Joel sat on the edge of the bathtub, his knees brushing against yours. "You gonna face me, pretty girl?" he asked softly, his tone coaxing, like he was talking to something fragile.

You shook your head, your messy hair swaying as you kept your face hidden. "Making this real hard for me," he chuckled, the sound soft, reassuring.

"Joel," you groaned, dragging out his name like a warning, but there was no bite in it, just pure frustration with yourself.

"C’mon, baby," he murmured, his hands reaching for you, warm and steady as they wrapped gently around your forearm. Slowly, he guided you to stand between his legs, "Let me see that pretty face, hmm?"

You hesitated, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His hands, rough and familiar, slid down to rest on your hips, grounding you. His thumbs rubbed soft circles into your sides, and you couldn’t help but relax, even just a little.

"Slowly now," he whispered, his voice low and sweet, the kind of tone that made your heart flutter no matter how upset you were.

With a shaky exhale, you let your arms drop to your sides, revealing your tear-streaked face and the bangs you’d already convinced yourself were a disaster. Your eyes stayed glued to the floor, bracing for Joel’s reaction, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

"Holy shit, honey," Joel drawled, his voice low and soft, but there was something in his tone that made you glance up, even through your nerves.

Your brows furrowed. "What?" you whispered, half-expecting him to laugh.

Joel leaned back slightly, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn’t quite place. He let out a slow whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Didn’t know it was possible for my girl to get even prettier."

Your lip quivered as you tried to hold back another wave of tears. "You’re lying," you said weakly, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. "I look ridiculous."

Joel tsked, already reaching for you. His hands found your waist, strong and steady, and before you could protest, he was pulling you into his lap. His broad hands spanned your back, pressing you close as if he could hold your insecurities at bay just by touching you.

"Ridiculously cute," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. His hand came up to gently tuck your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering as they traced along the curve of your cheek. "You look like a damn fairy, baby. All delicate and perfect."

You buried your face in his chest, shaking your head as your cheeks flushed. "I don’t," you mumbled, your voice muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt.

Joel’s hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, his thumb stroking small, soothing circles against your scalp. "You do," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You’re sittin’ here in my lap, all pretty and pouty, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with you than I am right now."

"Stop," you huffed, your voice half a laugh, half a groan, but Joel just grinned.

"Not a chance," he said, tipping your chin up so he could see your face. His eyes softened as they traced over your features, lingering on your bangs. "These little things?" he teased gently, brushing them aside. "I love ‘em. Make you look sweet. Like you walked straight outta one of those fairytale books Ellie’s always talkin’ about."

You sniffled, the corners of your lips twitching as you fought the urge to smile. "You’re just saying that."

Joel’s brows lifted, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Baby," he said, his voice dropping to a soft rumble, "when have you ever known me to just say somethin’ I didn’t mean? You’re my girl. My beautiful, stubborn, perfect girl. And I’ll keep tellin’ you until you believe me."

Butterflies erupted in your chest, fluttering so wildly you thought you might float away. Joel didn’t stop there, though. He pulled you even closer, his nose brushing against yours as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, one that left no room for doubt about just how much he adored you.

When he pulled back, his grin was softer now, but no less sure. "Now, how about we grab some dinner, and you let me keep braggin’ about how lucky I am to have you?" His fingers slid up to play with the ends of your bangs, his smirk returning. "Gonna have a real hard time keepin’ my hands off you, though. Fair warning."

You laughed, finally letting yourself melt into him, the last of your doubts fading under the weight of his love. "You’re obsessed with me," you teased, though your voice was soft and warm.

Joel chuckled, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Damn right, I am. Always will be."

[webbluvrsugar]

so how abouttt bully reader messing with ethan by flirting with him & she’s like kinda teasing him in that way bc she knows he has a big fat crush on her

kinda like regina george energy a little bit where she acts soo nice as a way of mocking you dhzbsb

or alternatively,, alison dilaurentis’ energy towards emily fields iykyk🙂‍↕️

a/n: this really hit the spot!! Also sorry for taking so long to write this T-T

not proofread

﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆. ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭ Ethan has a big fat crush on bully!reader

Ethan keeps telling himself he needs to stop telling Chad everything, sure the guy is his best friend but he’s also completely awful at keeping secrets and he always ends up telling someone. So Ethan didn’t really believe him when he said “Chill man, your secret’s safe with me.”, he knew he would tell someone, he just didn’t expect he would tell you and that you would be so forward to make him know you know.

The group decided to go to the movies and while everyone finished paying for their tickets, you and Ethan waited in line to get your popcorn. It didn’t take more than 5 minutes without your phone for you to turn your attention to him and remembered what Chad told you when you were both passed out drunk, a mumble of incoherent words which you could only make out to be “Ethan is toootally in love with you.”

“So… Ethan..” you say, sultry, he turns his attention to you almost unsure.

“Yeah?” He questions, steps forward when another person leaves the line.

“Chad told me you had a crush on a girl at campus, soo cute,” you smile, he returns the smile nervously. “you’ll finally get to — I don’t know — hold hands and walk around for the first time.”

He slightly blushes, holds his hands together as he slowly nods at you.

“Well.. yeah but it’s not exactly like that…” he tries to explain.

“Who is she?” You question, fiddle with your hair as you take another step closer.

Now, Ethan doesn’t want to exactly tell you who the girl is, but he also doesn’t know how to cover himself up for the mess Chad made — jesus, he really needs to reevaluate his friends.

“You wouldn’t know her.”

Surely, you’ll drop it, right?

“Come on, I know every single soul in that place, even the weird ones like you.” You push, lean into him with a soft smile.

You finally get your turn, Ethan hands the ticket to the cashier before he nervously turns to look at you. “No but she’s just… like… uhhhh…”

“You don’t need to pretend, Ethan, I know you like me.” You chuckle, lean onto the counter as you wait. “It’s kinda cute, you know? You have that little fantasy in your mind.”

He swallows, his lips press onto a line as he grabs his popcorn and his drink, slowly nods towards you.

“I wonder what other shit you think about in that room of yours.” You smirk, glance at your popcorn and than back at him.

Ethan sighs and rolls his eyes, makes an effort to grab your stuff too. He doesn’t know why he does it, but you flash him a smile of approval that makes him forget he’s being humiliated right in front of the others as you walk inside the dark rooms of the theatre.

And when the movie is playing the most cheesy, romantic scenes you’ve seen, you can’t help but turn to Ethan, lay a hand in his thigh, maybe taking a sip of his drink and leaving that glossy pink mark around his straw.

He’s not thinking about how he carried your drinks anymore.

He’s much more focused on that small little detail instead of the movie, it even makes him move the popcorn to hide something else.

[betweenstorms]

The idea of getting a tattoo had always lingered in your mind and when the decision was made, there was no one you wanted to share that moment with more than Simon Riley.

When you first told him you wanted a tattoo, you hadn’t expected much of a reaction. Your boyfriend wasn’t the type to show surprise easily, so when he tilted his head, watching you with those sharp hazel eyes, it was as though he was quietly assessing, making sure you were absolutely certain.

He didn’t say much, he rarely did.

However, after a brief pause, he nodded, murmuring something about giving his tattoo artist a call, as if this kind of thing was second nature to him. And it kind of was. The man had a full sleeve of intricate tattoos decorating his left arm, the ink winding over muscle and scar alike. There was something about his easy acceptance that made you feel even more certain of your decision. You trusted him implicitly in this, he had the experience, after all.

On the day of the consultation, Simon was right there, sitting next to you in the small studio, his broad frame taking up more space than it should have, yet somehow blending into the background.

As you discussed the design with the artist, you couldn’t help but glance at your boyfriend more than you should have, as though searching for approval in his silent gaze. He caught your eye once or twice, but never said a word, his face unreadable behind his medical mask. He was older, wiser too, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of your choice.

The artist, though, picked up on your lingering gaze and chuckled. “You keep looking at him like he’s the one getting inked,” he said, the amusement evident in his voice. “This is your tattoo. Not his.”

You felt a rush of warmth creep up your cheeks, a little embarrassed but grateful for the reminder.

The artist was right, of course.

Simon didn’t give his opinion, didn’t offer advice, just stayed beside you, content to let you choose whatever felt right to you. That was the thing about him, he never imposed. He wanted you to decide, even when it came to something as permanent as ink on your skin. Even though a small part of you wanted to pick something you both liked, a matching tattoo in a way, but in the end, it was your skin, your story to tell, so you decided on what felt true to yourself.

When the date of the actual session came around, Simon was pulled away by an unexpected mission.

He left for deployment just days before your appointment, and though you missed him more than you’d care to admit, you went ahead with it. You were disappointed, of course, but you understood.

Still, as you walked into the salon alone, you couldn’t help but wish he was there, his steady presence a silent comfort. But even without him, you did it—got the tattoo you had always wanted. The session was long, the pain more than you expected, but there was a quiet pride that settled in you when it was over.

You had done it.

When you got home, adrenaline still buzzing beneath your skin, you sent him a picture, not really expecting a response. Simon's work took him to places where communication was often impossible, and it wasn’t uncommon for days to pass without a word. But this time, his message came almost instantly.

Can’t wait to see it in person. Gonna inspect that ink up close, love.

A grin spread across your face, a warmth blooming in your chest at the thought of him. His words carried a weight, a promise that sent a shiver through you. He may have been a soldier first, always coming and going, but in moments like this, you knew—he was yours.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

[thewritingrowlet]

The Determined Wife, ft. Red Velvet Irene

tags: creampie, anal, breeding, daddy kink

word count: 6k+

author's note: well, here's the continuation of The Loving Wife—I hope you like this one

p.s. I want to write about Isa or Seeun next; I hope I have ideas for that.

“Hngh? Huh?”, you mumble as your brain kick-starts your body on a brand-new day. As the rest of your consciousness returns to you, you feel weight on the left side of your body. “Who?”, you take a sniff, “oh, Irene”. After getting a grip on the time and day, you close your eyes to get back to sleep. That is, until you feel Irene poking your cheek. “Good morning, my love”, you greet her with closed eyes. “Good morning, honey”, Irene yawns audibly, “do you have work today?”. You tighten your arms around her, “let’s not start our day like that”. “How do you want to start, then?”, she asks, letting out another yawn after, “do you want to breed me first thing in the morning?”. “God, not this breeding thing again”, you think to yourself, “love, are you that serious about getting pregnant?”. You feel Irene rubbing her face against your chest, “I want to have your child—our child”.

You get on top of your wife and hover closely above her face while your hands are planted on either side of her face, “how badly do you want it?”. In the dark, you see Irene smile warmly, “I want it so fucking bad; I want to make you happy”. You clap your hands twice to turn on the lights—God bless modern technology. “Love, you know I’m happy with what we have. I don’t want to burden you with a child—not to mention that you also have a career to pursue”, you try to reason with her. Irene furrows her eyebrows in anger, dissatisfied by your words, “if you use my career against me one more time, I’m leaving you”. You pull her into a sitting position in front of you, “honey, please; I didn’t mean it like that. Surely you know what I’m getting at”. Irene frees her wrists from your grip and crosses her arms, her gaze straying away from yours, “I don’t want to talk to you today. You can go to work if you want to”.

Irene’s behavior leaves you no choice but to give her some space and hope that time will help her come to reason. “I love you, honey”, you dare say, and a part of you expects a slap on the cheek. Seeing that you’re not getting a response from Irene, you get off the bed and get ready for the day ahead. Since you don’t have eyes on your nape, you can’t see that Irene sheds a tear as she feels rejected by you, the person she can’t live without—the love of her life.

-

“Good morning, boss!”, Miss Park greets you excitedly as soon as you enter the company building. “Hi, hello. Good morning”, you return her greeting and shake her hand. “You look like you have a lot of things going on right now”, she comments. You let out a heavy sigh, “I do, actually; had a little disagreement with my wife, and she said she wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day”. “Ah, sorry about that, boss”, Miss Park, not expecting such answer, clears her throat to cope with the awkwardness, “anyway, you don’t have much today, sir; just proposals and other paperwork to read and sign”. “Thank you, Miss Park”, you part ways with her in front of the elevator that leads to your office.

You start your routine of hanging your suit jacket on the headrest of your chair and waking up your computer from its slumber. “That’s a lot of emails—how are there 22, man?”, you eye the list of unread emails on your screen, and you see that some of them are paid leave applications that are pending your approval.

When you started your company, you made a commitment to approve such applications without questions and encourage department heads under your command to follow suit. It’s not like it’s a complicated process, anyway; one just needs to fill out a form they can get from HR, ask their manager and head of department to sign it, and then wait for your approval. Such simple steps are set in place to make sure that employees can take a leave in a timely manner—no need to be kneeling and begging for this. Combined with the rules the company has set, you’ve seen reports from employees saying that they’re satisfied with your system.

“Oh, his child is hospitalized; I should visit them later”, you comment as you see an application from a certain Mr. Lee Minhyung from the marketing department. “That’s one down; a few more to go”. You click on the arrow to go to the next email, one from Miss Kim Minjeong, “wait, that’s Mr. Lee’s wife, no?”. Of course you remember; HR notified you by letter and asked you to fire one of them when they learned that they were a married couple.

You read the content of the email, and obviously, she’s also applying for a paid leave; it’s their child who is hospitalized. “Yeah, easy”, you apply your digital signature on the letter as a sign of approval, just like you did with her husband’s. As you’re moving your cursor to go to the next, you wonder what it’s like to have a child, and importantly, what it’s like to be in a crisis involving your child. “I wonder if Irene is ready for such situations”, you sigh, “why are you so determined to have a child, my love?”.

-

“Miss Park, tell Mr. Oh to put the parcel in the car; I’m coming down in a bit”, you say to your secretary over the phone. After getting an answer from her, you put on your jacket and walk out of your office, towards the elevator.

You see a handful of heads of departments on your way down, as they take the same elevator you are. “Any news, ladies and gentlemen?”, you ask. “My son is getting married next week, director—you’re invited to the wedding, by the way”, Mr. Shim, head of IT, shares the good news with you. You shake his hand firmly, “congratulations, Mr. Shim. Send me the details and I’ll be there”.

The rest of your conversations with them are cut short when the elevator stops and opens on the bottom floor, indicating your time to leave. “I’m going to visit someone’s child at the hospital; I’ll see you later”, you exchange goodbyes with the crowd and turn around towards Mr. Oh and Miss Park who are already waiting for you next to your car.

“Is everything in there?”, you ask Miss Park. “Yes, sir. Would you like to be driven for?”, she asks. You shake your head, “no, but I want you to come with me; I’ll need help carrying these stuff—c’mon, let’s go”. You get in your car with Miss Park and drive to the hospital, where the child is hospitalized.

“Excuse me, director”, Miss Park starts a conversation as the two of you wait at the red light, “I know this is presumptuous of me, but can I ask what’s happening between you and your wife?”. “She wants to have a child, Miss Park—that’s all you need to know”, you explain briefly, “why?”. Miss Park pulls out a small envelope from her jacket, “your wife stopped by earlier and gave me this”. You take the envelope from her hands and put it in your pocket, “thanks, I’ll see what this is about later”.

-

You walk with Miss Park towards the child’s room with your hands full of stuff. You’re carrying a basket of fruits in one hand and a box of pudding in the other, while Miss Park is carrying some food for the parents. “Knock on the door, Miss Park. My hands are full”, you gesture to her with your head. Miss Park knocks three times, and not long after, the door swings open. “Director! Miss Park!”, Mr. Lee exclaims, “wha-what are you doing here?”. “Hi there”, you smile, “oh, y’know, just wanted to see your son; maybe I can lift his spirits or something”.

Mr. Lee welcomes you in, and you immediately make eye contact with the boy lying in bed. “Hey, bud. How are you feeling?”, you show him a friendly side of you. He smiles weakly and tells you that he’s feeling better compared to yesterday. “That’s great to hear”, you show him the bag with the pudding in it, “I have some pudding for you, buddy—ask your mom to cut it for you, okay?”. The boy giggles in excitement, and you feel a surge of warmth that you don’t think you’ve felt before.

You grab a chair and sit next to him after handing the stuff to Mr. Lee and his wife. “Hey, buddy”, you gently rub the back of his hand that’s not connected to the IV drip, “what happened to you?”. “I remember feeling weak and blacking out at school, but I don’t remember anything else, sir”, he recalls. “You must’ve been so tired after studying so hard, haven’t you?”, you look over your shoulder and see that Mr. Lee and his wife are smiling at you, seemingly in approval of your actions, “your parents must be proud of you, bud; you look like someone who works hard for school”. The boy beams, and he decides to brag about his grades, “I got a 90 on my last math test, sir!”. You chuckle out loud and pet his head gently, “oi, great job, you! Hey, guess what: I’ll buy you some shoes to wear to school after you leave this place—how does that sound, buddy?”.

You leave the boy’s side after getting a high five from him, and it is now time to speak with his parents. Mr. Lee shakes your hand, “thank you so much, director. About my work—“. You cut Mr. Lee off with a pause gesture, “please, let’s not worry about that right now; I’m not here to talk about your work. Your son is more important than any work, Mr. Lee”. He smiles and bows in gratefulness, “thank you so much, director. I promise I will always work hard”. You pat him on the back while laughing, “you like making me get richer, don’t you, Mr. Lee?”.

When you turn your attention to Miss Kim, she bows in respect. “Thank you for visiting, Mr. Director. It means a lot to us”, she says. It must be true that it only uses two muscles to smile, because you’re not tired of smiling—not even in the slightest. “I’m just trying to help the both of you—ah, can I address the both of you casually? We’re not at the office, are we?”, you say to Miss Kim and her husband. Miss Kim nods, “of course you can, director. Feel free to call us by name”.

You grab the bag of food from the table and hand it to them, “I don’t know if you’ve eaten yet, but if you haven’t, please eat now; I have some sandwich for both of you. Miss Park will keep an eye on your son”. Mr. Kim and his wife say goodbye to their son and tell him that Miss Park will stay with him while they eat, getting a nod in response. “Can we talk while you eat, actually?”, you say to them, and they nod at you, “follow me outside, please”.

You sit on the sofa near the nurses’ station with the couple. “I have some questions if you don’t mind, Minhyung-ah”, you initiate the conversation. “Of course, director. Ask away”, he says. You start by explaining your situation first, “here’s the thing, my wife has been begging me to make her pregnant, and admittedly, I’ve been rejecting her request because she has quite the career and I don’t want her to just throw it away, considering how long it has taken her to build it”. Mr. Lee and Miss Kim look at each other before turning back to you, “I’m guessing you’re curious what it’s like to have a child, especially as a working couple”. “That’s spot-on, Minhyung-ah”, you give him a thumbs-up, “so, can you tell me?”.

“I’ll start first—y’know, as a dad and all that”, Mr. Lee takes a deep breath before sharing his perspective, “personally, director, we were also concerned about our careers at first, but having a child has been the greatest thing in our lives”. Truthfully, you’re surprised to hear such an answer, but before you make any judgment, you ask Miss Kim to share her thoughts first. “I agree with my husband, Mr. Director”, Miss Kim says, “I must say, though, seeing your child get sick hurts so damn bad—this isn’t the first time Daeyoung-ie has been hospitalized, and seeing him lie in bed like that hurts so, so much”. You want to open your mouth, but Miss Kim isn’t done talking just yet. “I can’t explain it but love for your child isn’t similar to love for your spouse, director—something about being willing to do anything for your child isn’t comparable to anything else”, she piles on.

You stay silent as you try to process everything you just heard. “That’s quite the answer, actually”, you rub your chin, “I’ll talk with my wife about it, I guess”. Mr. Lee glances at his wife quickly before turning back to you, “I don’t know about you, director, but the process of making a child is very, uh, fun”. You chuckle out loud, and you see that Miss Kim is smacking her husband while blushing. “I’m sure it is, Minhyung-ah—I mean, look at you: clearly you had fun”, you shake your head in amusement, “alright, Miss Park and I will be leaving after this. I’ll keep my promise and buy your son some new shoes after he’s out of this place, but you’ll need to remind me”.

-

Irene’s Genesis is parked at its usual spot in front of your house, and you feel excited to talk with her about getting her pregnant. You get out of the car after parking it next to hers and run straight to the house. “I’m ho—what the fuck!?”, you see Irene lying on the carpet in front of the TV with nothing but bra and panties on. “Irene? Love?”, you slap her cheeks gently but rapidly to get her to open her eyes, “honey, wake up, please”. You look around the house for signs of what has happened, and you see a tall bottle of whiskey that is almost empty sitting on the table in front of the sofa—no shot glass means that she must’ve drunk it straight from the bottle.

“I… hate you…”, Irene says weakly, her eyelids too heavy to open, “s-stay away f-from me”. Not the best thing you could hear right now, but you’re glad that she’s okay, just drunk—verydrunk. “Let’s move you to the bedroom, okay?”, you carry her bridal style—it reminds you of your first day of being married, actually—and walk towards the bedroom. “P-put me down, y-you bastard”, Irene wiggles around, attempting to free herself from your arms, “I-I’m calling the police if-if you don’t put me down”. Irene has never been this drunk before, and honestly, you don’t know how to take care of her in this state—doesn’t mean you won’t try, though.

You place her on the floor momentarily while you grab a blanket and spread it on the bed. You pick up your wife from the floor and put her in the middle of the blanket and wrap her body with it, just in case she loses control of her actions and starts throwing punches or kicks. “W-what are you doing to me, you asshole—let me go!”, Irene tries to free herself from the blanket burrito, but since she’s very drunk, she’s not strong enough to do anything other than to run her mouth. “Love, it’s me”, you softly say to her, “you’re very drunk, aren’t you, baby?”. “Heheheheh”, Irene laughs, seemingly mocking you, “me? drunk? I’m on cloud nine right now, baby—had to-to take care of myself since my husband wouldn’t”.

Her words sound particularly painful to you right now. You went from feeling excited about talking to her about having a child, to feeling sad about the sight in front of you, and you feel powerless to do anything but let tears run down your cheeks. “Alcohol brings out the best of us, doesn’t it, love?”, you wipe your tears, hoping that doing so will help you calm down faster, “I guess this is how we wrap things up today”.

-

In your peaceful sleep, you’re shown glimpses of what having a child would be like. First, you’re shown a projection of Irene with a big belly; “we have a child, love! I’m so happy to have a child!”, she says. You really want to keep watching this clip, but your brain wants to move on to the next, which is one where Irene is doing tiny jumps while holding your baby, who is wrapped in a small blanket; “who is my good boy, hm? Who is my lovely, handsome boy?”. Like before, your brain quickly moves on to the next part of your dreams. You’re shown images in quick succession of your child taking his first steps, going to school for his first day, and finally, the moment where he makes a vow to never stop loving his wife, and to continue to be with her until death do them part—the speed makes it almost feels like someone is holding down the right arrow key during a PowerPoint presentation.

As soon as the presentation finishes, you’re stirred awake by your brain, as if telling you to start working on making it into reality. Your ability to vividly remember dreams isn’t always helpful because you can indeed remember everything, no matter how scary or joyful it is. “I had a dream, baby”, you say in a soft voice to Irene, who is still wrapped in a blanket, “I saw what it’d be like if we had a child—it was such a beautiful dream, my love”. You rub her exposed cheeks gently as you narrate the rest of your dream to your wife.

“Ah, I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep, love. I’ll go back to sleep now—good morning, by the way”, you say to her as you close your eyes and get ready to get back to sleep. “Wait!”, Irene exclaims in a tiny voice, taking you by surprise, “wait, don’t go back to sleep yet”. You lift your head off your pillow and take a good look at your wife. “Are you alright, love?”, you ask her, trying to gauge her mood. With how limited her mobility is in the burrito, Irene can only shake her head. “N-no, I’m not”, she starts tearing up, “p-please hold me in your arms”.

You unwrap the blanket and hold Irene in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry about the blanket, love. I was just concerned about you punching or kicking me while being drunk”, you spray pecks on her head as a gesture of apology. “I’m sorry—fuck, I’m so sorry”, Irene apologizes as tears start freely flowing out of her eyes, “I-I didn’t have anyone to talk to, s-so I resorted to drinking—please forgive me, my love”. Since Irene is in the mood for apologies, you decide to follow it up with one of yours; “I got your letter yesterday, love. I understand what you were saying, and I’m sorry for not calling you or saying anything back”. Irene shakes her head, “n-no, it-it’s okay, I understand. I-I was just so fucking desperate to do something, s-so I decided to write you a letter”.

As soon as Irene stops crying, you move on to the next subject, which is your little trip to the hospital to visit your employee’s son. “Love, I visited someone’s son at the hospital yesterday”, you say to her, “he fainted at school and was taken to the hospital after that”. “Oh, poor boy”, Irene comments, showing empathy, “so, what then?”. You tell her that you and Miss Park brought some stuff for the boy and his parents; “I also promised him that I’d buy him some new shoes to wear to school”. Irene pecks your cheek as a sign of approval of your actions, “good thinking, my love”.

“Not just that, though”, you pile on, “I also asked the parents what it was like to see their son lie in bed sick like that”. “Yeah? What did they say?”, she asks. You take a deep breath first, “they said that it’s such a painful sight—this wasn’t the first time the boy had been hospitalized, by the way”. Irene can sense that something else is coming from you, so she urges you to keep going. “I just kept thinking about whether you’d be ready for such thing, should it happen to us and our child”.

Irene holds your hands tightly and rubs the back of them gently. “I’ll need you to be with me every step of the way. If I have you next to me, I’ll face anything head on”, she says. You put on an assuring smile, “of course I’ll be there with you, love. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go, is it?”.

Irene gathers her strength and mounts your body, “does that mean you’ll be breeding me? That’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it?”. You run your thumb across her lips, “yes, love, but I want you to do something first”. “What? What is it? Tell me”, Irene starts getting excited at the prospect of getting pregnant. “We’ll be having a lot of sex in the next few days, so I want you to grab a pen and paper and write down your consent so that I won’t have to keep asking”, you say to her. Irene jumps off the bed and runs—or stumbles, rather—out of the bedroom to do what you ask, and while you wait for her, you decide to get ready for sex; you take off your clothes but leave the boxers on for Irene to do the honors and lie down on the bed.

“Here! Here!”, Irene enters the bedroom running and shows you a small piece of paper. You grab the letter from her hands, “let’s see what you wrote, hey?”.

“My name is Bae ‘Irene’ Joohyun, and I am the wife of Director Kang Junho.

I hereby declare that I consent to everything that my beloved husband will be doing to me, as we are trying to have a child of our own. If he wishes to have sex, then I shall comply without asking questions, for I am his beloved wife.

His for eternity,

Irene”

“I know you’re still hungover, but I’ll accept this anyway”, you chuckle as you climb onto the bed, ��are we ready?”. Irene joins you in bed and kneels next to you, looking down at herself. “Lo-love”, she says with a tiny voice, “I-I know your dream was about a son, b-but you—erm—you don’t mind having a daughter, do you?”. You take her hands in yours, “of course not, love. Having a child is already such a blessing—it matters little if it’s a boy or a girl”. Irene looks at you with a smile, “that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you”. “Nah-nah-nah”, you deflect, “you just kept saying breed me over and over again”. Irene moves to sit on your lap and pecks you on the lips, “I mean, that’s how a woman gets pregnant”.

“My love, listen to me, please”, you inhale deeply, “I promise you this will be the last time I ask this: what about your career?”. Irene rubs your cheek gently, “love, I don’t care about my career; motherhood will be my greatest achievement—ask me one hundred more times, and I’ll give you the same answer each time”. You move to sit with Irene in your lap. “I will be there with you, love; I’ll be the best father I can be for our children”. “Children?”, Irene bursts out in laughter, “goodness me—now you want to have more than one”.

That’s enough yapping and laughing—it’s now time to fill your wife with baby batter. You place your palms on either side of Irene’s hips and lock eyes with her, confusing her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”, she asks. You smirk, “just thinking about what position I want to fuck you in”. She blushes in response, “w-whatever it is, m-make sure you cum inside”.

You scoot backwards until your back can lean against the headboard. “You want me to ride you, honey?”, she asks, “but what if the cum drips out?”. You shrug, “I’ll just fill you up again”. “Yeah, we can do that”, Irene unlatches her bra and hands it to you, “hold on to this, honey”. Let’s be real, you have better things to hold on to, such as her ass and tits—eh, actually, let’s entertain her for now.

Irene fondles her tits, weighing them with her hands, “do you think they’ll grow bigger, honey?”. You shake your head, clueless, “I don’t know how it works, love. We’ll have to see”. She then holds your hands and places them on her tits, “touch me, please”. “Gladly, baby”, you lick her nipple to tease her.

Irene is great at reacting to stimulations; you’re barely doing anything with her tits, and she’s already squirming around. “Mo-more”, Irene yelps, “oh, please—more”. “Do you think you can give me some breast milk right now?”, you tease her as you squeeze her tits, as if trying to get breast milk out of them. “Prob-probably not”, Irene throws her head back, “I-I don’t think it works like that”. “Ah, unfortunate”, you pinch her nipples, “would love to taste some right now”.  It is when you latch your mouth on her boob that Irene starts moaning loudly.  “Oh, yes, big baby”, Irene palms the back of your head, “big baby can make small babies”. You want to laugh, but you haven’t had enough of your wife’s tits just yet.

Irene’s impatience is showing, as she picks up the pace of her humps. “Please fuck me already”, she begs, “don’t you want to fuck me? Don’t you want to fill me?”. You reach down towards your crotch and hers, “you’re so wet, aren’t you, love?”. “And-and you’re so hard”, she replies. “You know why I’m hard, baby?”, you ask, teasing her one last time. “Y-you—oh, God—you’re hard because you want to fuck me”. You praise her by pinching her nipples, “good answer, baby—now let’s start, hm?”.

You lean back against the headrest and tell Irene that she’s free to do whatever she wants with you. You see that Irene wants to free your cock from your boxers, so you help her out and lift your butt off the bed momentarily. “Who needs a career when you can just spend your days worshipping a cock like this?”, Irene utters, her eyes locked on your erection, “skip work this week, please. It’s not like they can fire you”. True, no one can fire you, but there’s something odd about not going to work, especially as the big boss. “I’ll see what I can do, baby”, you promise her. You keep an eye on Irene, “do you want to suck me off first, baby?”. Your words snap Irene out of her little trance, stopping her from mindlessly stroking your cock; “n-no, let’s skip past that”.

Irene takes off her panties and guides your cock towards her entrance. “I want you so bad, baby”, you egg her on. It is an exaggeration, yeah, but it always works—look, Irene is going down on your cock while moaning! “Oppa”, she calls you by an endearment from way back when, “do you remember our first time?”. You start flipping the pages of your memory to recollect and find the memory with little trouble. “How can I not, love?”, you smile, “you’re my first and only”. Irene lets out a soft yelp when she finally manages to fit your whole shaft inside. “Y-you let me be on top be-because you wanted me to get used to you”, Irene closes her eyes and starts rolling her hips back and forth, “you were splitting me in half, oppa”. Irene’s tight-but-wet grip makes you moan, “it was really hard for me to not just bust right away right there, love”. “Yeah?”, Irene teases with a smirk, “let’s see how long you can hold it in now”.

 “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight”, you grit your teeth, “I love it—I love you”. Irene likes dirty talk, but words of love and affirmation work better on her, proven by how she’s picking up the pace of her bounces. “Yes! Fuck, yes!”, she yells, “I’m perfect for you, daddy!”. You pull her closer to your face so that you can kiss her and show her how much you love her. “Come on, baby. You can do this—fuck, you’re so good to me”, you whisper to her. She plants her forehead on your shoulder and begs for help; “please, please fuck me like you usually do, daddy”. You comply to her request by thrusting up and meeting her in the middle, timing it perfectly to make sure that you can reach her deepest spots.

Irene’s moans are one of the many things you will never get tired of in your marriage. The perfect mix of low- and high-pitched moans (and the occasional yelps and screams, too) makes you feel really good about yourself every single time—the daddy kink is simply the perfect icing on the cake. You don’t really pay attention to yourself, so you don’t know what you look like or what sounds you make during sex, but considering that Irene never complains about it, she probably finds you very attractive during sex—nothing that kills the mood or the like.

“You’re squeezing me, baby”, your focus is turned back to Irene, “you want to cum?”. Irene nods weakly, “please let me cum, daddy”. You never said anything about not letting her cum, but since she’s asking very nicely, she’s more than welcome to cum any time—preferably soon, though; you’re almost on the edge yourself. “Cum for me, baby”, you egg her on, “if you cum now, I’ll breed you”.

Timing couldn’t be any more perfect, as Irene announces that she’s about to cum after a few more bounces. She lets out a very loud scream, but it’s more than fine; it’s not like there’s anyone else in this house other than the two of you—even if the breeding is successful and she’s pregnant, the fruit of the labor won’t be here for another 9 months, so until then, Irene is free to be as loud as she wants.

Irene falls limp to the side, feeling weak from her orgasm, and you use this window to take a breather and get yourself together. “One-one second, please”, Irene squirms around as she basks in the high of her orgasm. “You can take as much time as you want, baby”, you run your hand back and forth on her back to soothe her, “I bet you can’t feel your legs right now”. She chuckles with heavy breaths, “that-that’s your fault, daddy”. You tell her that she can rest while you leave to get some water for her.

When you return, however, you see that Irene’s eyes are closed, and when you lean closer to her, you hear subtle snores coming out of her mouth. You set the glasses of water on the bedside table and pick up the letter to re-read what she’s written. “I consent to everything”, it says, and you’re tempted to push her further. “Let’s see if you’re ready for anal”, you mutter under your breath.

She’s lying flat on her stomach, which allows you access to her rear without having to move her. You make sure that your cock isn’t too dry by slathering spit on the whole thing before you try to pierce her ass. You plant your knees on either side of her closed thighs and spread her cheeks gently to find your target. Even though she has said that she consents to everything, you don’t want to do anything sexual to her while she’s asleep. “Irene, baby”, you pat her cheeks gently to wake her up, “we’re not done yet”. Irene stirs awake and turns her head to look at you, “sorry, daddy; I fell asleep”. You peck the back of her head and tell her that it’s okay. “I’m going again, okay?”.

“Wait, wait—that-that’s not where you breed me, daddy”, Irene grunts in pain when she feels you in her ass. “Consider this your punishment for falling asleep”, you grit your teeth, “fuck, you’re so tight here, too”. “B-but you said it’s okay—AH, FUCK, DADDY!”, Irene lets out a very loud scream when your shaft reaches the deepest point of her ass. “Say your safe word, then”, you challenge her, and Irene shakes her head in response. “N-no, I love getting fucked in the ass”, she grunts, “just don’t cum in my ass, please”. “Oh, yeah, that’s right; we’re trying to get her pregnant”, you think to yourself. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll go back to your pussy after this”.

You lean forward a bit and place your hands on the bed to make sure you’re steady. “Be good, baby”, you whisper to her while you prepare your hips to fuck her ass hard. “Pl-please, just fuck me already”, Irene yelps, “fuck my ass, daddy”. That’s a green light as bright as any, so you start doing what you’re in this position for: to fuck her ass.

Irene’s screams of pain start getting replaced with moans of pleasure, as she gets more comfortable with taking you in the ass. “You’re so hard and big, daddy”, she praises you between moans, “you’re so good at fucking me”. Her praise serves as fuel to your fire of lust, and with a grunt, you pick up the pace of your thrusts. Your wife is reduced to just moans, unable to do anything else but lie flat on the bed while your shaft is stretching the muscles of her rear.

You feel that you’re almost there, so you pull out of her ass and roll her onto her back. “I want to see you, baby”, you say to her before plunging back into her pussy. She feebly stretches out her arms, asking you to hold her in yours. You lean forward and wrap your arms around her body, while your lips crash into hers. “We’re going to have a child, baby”, you say in a soft voice.

-

“Mr. Kang, your wife is about to give birth. Would you like to be present?”, a nurse asks you. “Yes, please”, you get up from the bench, “please show me the way”. The nurse starts walking towards the room where your wife is, and you feel cold sweat running down your forehead. As you follow the nurse, you pray to the higher beings that your wife and daughter will make it out of this in perfect health.

“She’s here, sir”, the nurse opens a door and leads you inside. “Oh my God”, you exclaim; Irene is pinching her thighs until they’re bruised while the rest of her body is drenched in sweat. “My love”, you move to her side and hold her hand to stop her from pinching her thighs, “my God, how can I help you, baby?”.

More and more nurses enter the room, and all you can do is trust them to do what they do best, which is to help during delivery. You try to focus on your wife, but her screams and the nurses’ voices make it very hard for you to do so. One particular scream from Irene wrenches your heart, making you shed a tear. “God, help her, please”, you chant in your head over and over again, praying in your earnest for her and your daughter’s safety.

-

You slowly open your eyes, and you try to make out where you are right now. You gather your strength and stand up from your seat to check up on Irene. “Wait, that’s—“, you rub your eyes to make clear of the sight in front of you. “This is our daughter, honey”, Irene says tearily, “we have a daughter”. “Oh my God, what a blessing”, you let out a sigh of relief, “what happened to me, though? How did I get here?”. Irene places a hand on your cheeks and rubs it softly, “a nurse said that you passed out, so they had to carry you here”. You feel bad for them for having to carry you as a dead weight and you promise that you’ll compensate them later.

“Love, we have a daughter”, Irene repeats as she breaks down in tears, “we have a daughter—can you believe that?”. You place a hand on Irene’s head to soothe her, while you use your other hand to reach for your little daughter. “Hi, baby”, you say gently, “welcome to the world, little one”. The sight makes you shed tears of your own—who knew it would turn out like this, because you certainly didn’t. “What’s her name, honey?”, Irene asks. “Yeseo”, you wipe the tears off your cheeks and peck your daughter over the blanket that’s covering her (because you don’t want to compromise her hygiene or something like that), “your name is Yeseo, my dear—my sweet, sweet daughter”.

-

“Welcome home!”, you excitedly open the doors of your house and lead your wife and daughter, who is peacefully sleeping in her arms, inside. Once they’re in, you close the doors behind you and lead them to sit on the sofa. “I love you so much, baby”, you say to Irene. “I love you so much more, honey”, she replies, “and I love you so much, Yeseo-yah”. You look at your daughter lovingly, and you really want to give her a peck. “Can I peck her, love?”, you ask your wife, earning a laugh from her. “Of course you can; you’re her father”.

Irene hands Yeseo over to you, and you make sure that your arms are perfectly steady. “Yeseo-yah, I love you so much”, you say in the gentlest voice you can come up with, “I will protect you and your mother with my life”. Obviously, she can’t say anything back to you, but you’d like to think that she can hear you, and what’s better for Yeseo to hear first thing than words of love from her parents?

“Love, I want to celebrate”, you say to your wife, your gaze still locked on your baby. “Yeah? How?”, Irene asks, “you want to make more babies?”. “Seriously?”, you look at her with an I-can’t-believe-you-just-said-that face, “no, love; I don’t want to make another one just yet”. Irene laughs out loud, “oh, you know, I was just making sure—so how do you want to celebrate?”. You gently run a finger on Yeseo’s cheek, “I want to make her birthday a holiday at the company, and I want to raise everyone’s salary by 8%”. Your wife moves to sit closer to you and wraps an arm around your back, “yeah, that sounds like a good celebration”.

[defututus]

Baggage Claim Reunion

modern!rockstar!eddie Munson x reader

masterlist

summary: Corroded Coffin is finally home after their first supporting tour in the UK and you get to pick them up.

word count: 5.3k

content warning: established relationship, fluff, more fluff, some language, references to sex and a dom/sub relationship that I'll explore at some point, overall you and Eddie are just happy to be reunited.

author's note: this came to me as I was waiting for @corroded-hellfire to pick me up from the airport when I visited her. I stewed on the idea for a little bit before deciding to write it and I'm really happy with how it turned out!

Also, I'm starting a general taglist if anyone is interested 👉👈

Indianapolis International Airport was buzzing with people in the evening. Most of the individuals walking by look like they’d rather be anywhere else right now as they slump over in the chairs waiting for their luggage or lean against the handles of their carry-on bag. It was amazing to see how some people dressed there. You saw people dressed from head to toe in new Disney merch, in their pajamas, suits, the whole nine yards. Indiana was finally blessed with a few warm days around this time of year so you drove to the airport in a sweatshirt and some pajama pants. The occasion was exciting but did not warrant dressing up since you’d be going to bed right after. You even tried to nap earlier in the day but the anticipation for today’s events kept you wide awake. Hell, you’re probably the only one at the arrivals gate full of energy as you anxiously bounce on your slippered feet waiting for the passengers of an 11-hour flight from Helsinki to return home. 

Corroded Coffin had finally made it and was invited to open up for another band on the European leg of their tour. Everyone was so ecstatic when they got the call from the band's agent and began preparing. Eddie quickly got the necessary time off from work approved (one of the perks of Wayne’s new promotion to shop manager), passports were renewed, visas expedited, and before you all could even process what was happening you waved goodbye as Corroded Coffin flew off to tour for the next month. It was hard for you to adjust to your apartment being so quiet. Eddie was always coming over to stay the night to the point that you’d joke he should just move in. Maybe you’d suggest that after dropping everyone off when they arrived home. The band would have weekly hang outs every Saturday night at your place and would sometimes culminate in a sleepover with you all sprawled out across the living room. Your head more often than not would end up on Eddie’s shoulder and his arm draped across your shoulder. It was weird to go so long without him humming a tune or tapping his fingers against something. It almost didn’t feel like home without him. 

Eddie would call you after every show and you’d spend as much time as possible catching up on each other's day before he had to go help with loading up the van and promise to call again the next day. There’s the usual back and forth about who should hang up first until one person gives in, or in some cases one of the band members takes the phone and hangs up for you guys. They don’t do it to be mean, but they all know that if they don’t do it then Eddie will make them late for load out almost every night. 

You miss Eddie’s warmth, his contagious laughter, the way he always had a corny joke or compliment when you were in a bad mood. Hell, you even missed when he was trying to be annoying. You missed every part of him and as proud as you were to see Corroded Coffin get the attention they deserved, you also wanted your best friend and boyfriend back. The distance made you realize how hard it was to function without him. Sure, he had done other tours before, but the time difference left you two with little time to chat and it made you feel lonely. Your other half was missing.

You get to the baggage claim earlier than expected, having looked up the map of the airport the night before to avoid getting lost. The universe must have sensed your desperation because there was barely any traffic during rush hour. Once you strode through the glass doors, you find the carousel everyone’s luggage would be dropped off and park yourself on a bench facing the gate. According to the boards plastered around the airport, Corroded Coffin’s grueling nonstop flight had landed and their luggage was being delivered to the baggage area, meaning your boys would be arriving soon. There’s a small food court near the baggage claim and still had plenty of time left before the guys come out, so you take the opportunity to get some food for yourself. It’s not much, settling for a quesadilla and bag of tortilla chips with queso. You’ll eat that and let the boys fight over the bag when you drive them all home.

Your phone nearly died earlier and you needed it to get home from the airport so you resort to the age-old activity of people watching to make time pass by easily. You watch exhausted families carrying their sleeping children, pilots and flight attendants heading to and from work, and count at least four adorable dogs that make you want to abandon your post waiting for the band so you can say hello to them. There was even a man who sat near you with what was possibly the funniest, most wrinkly English Bulldog you had ever seen. His name was Hank and you were so excited to tell Eddie about him when you two were finally reunited

You were so excited to see everyone – mainly Eddie – that your heart began to pound every time you saw a group of people approach the baggage claim, but found yourself immensely disappointed every time when you learned it was not Corroded Coffin. There was a surprising amount of tall white men with long brown hair. Were you being tortured? It sure felt like it.

Twenty torturous minutes later and you finally see a familiar group of people approaching the baggage area. Leading the pack is Jeff, who is chugging the last of his water and shoving it in his backpack. Grant and Gareth are passionately arguing about something with Gareth enthusiastically jumping as if the added height would help prove his point. Behind those two is a drained looking Eddie with a can of Monster in his hand and his guitar slung over his back. Eddie insisted he take the guitar as a carry-on because he didn’t trust anyone to handle it with care. The rest of the band’s equipment was being shipped back to the States and would arrive in a few weeks.

 He had changed his hair a bit before leaving for tour by getting an undercut and you never realized how much a change in hairstyle could affect his confidence levels. His self-esteem got a big boost once Corroded Coffin began to take off, but this new haircut really helped him.. The longer portion of his hair was tied back into a loose bun to show off the shaved back. You joked that he did it solely to show more of his neck to you since you had a habit of biting it. He had headphones on and wasn’t really paying attention to the argument going on in front of him, looking as exhausted as everyone else in the building, but with little more curiosity about this part of the building and the amenities that surrounded them. He wore a faded Corroded Coffin hoodie (he insisted on repping the band whenever possible) with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his tattoo sleeves and a pair of gray sweatpants, your personal favorite. Eddie was definitely dressing for comfort in this case, although you’d make the case that he looks good no matter what. He looked tired, the long flight most likely taking whatever energy he had left before the show, but somehow he looked as perfect as ever.

 Grant is the one to spot you first and waves in your direction. You throw your half-eaten meal down into the large to-go bag it came in and drop it on the floor to dart in their direction. Eddie doesn’t see you barreling over to them, instead taken by the large sculpture near the elevators. It’s not until he hears you yell, “Welcome back!” that he realizes his favorite person is finally here to take them all home that he tugs his headphones off his ears. The metalhead pushes through to the front of the group and meets you halfway to pick you up and twirl you around. He had never looked happier, all semblance of exhaustion wiped off his face the second he had you in his arms.

You’re both smiling at each other and start giggling when he spins you around. Your reunion is like something out of a movie. The world slows down around you as your attention lies solely on Eddie, his eyes, his smile, his everything. The rest of his band watches from afar to allow you both to have this moment. Eddie had a smile on their face that they didn’t see often - it was usually after a great show or whenever you two were apart and he finally saw you again. They collectively decided to keep their mouth shut about how much he’d complain about missing you. Always moaning about how he wished you were there with them, how he wished you saw what he did on stage (you have social media, you saw every second of every show), and how he missed talking to you. Eddie called you every day yet he acted like he hadn’t spoken to you in years. It was easy to just let him have his moment with you while they all waited to collect their luggage at the appropriate carousel as it began dropping out of the chute. 

Eddie’s spinning slows down until he’s just standing there with you in his arms.. He loosens his grip enough to place you down on the floor but immediately pulls you in for a tight hug. If there was one thing about Eddie that you liked to share with people, it was the fact that he gave the most amazing hugs. He would hold you so tightly you felt that he might actually break something if he were any stronger. Years of working odd jobs and later at the mechanic led to him building enough muscle so he finally filled out his shirts and could lift anything with ease. Hauling gear was easy for him, and he particularly took joy in throwing you around like a ragdoll, whether during sex or just to wrestle around and get you to laugh. Right now, it felt like he was trying to squeeze the air out of your lungs. All the love he had for you was fueling the hug’s strength. You reciprocated the embrace as much as you could, still feeling a bit giggly because your boy was finally home. Your face is buried in his neck to take in his scent. It was intoxicating. You had started using some of his shirts as pillow cases to tide you over while he was gone. Your bed usually smelled like him since he slept there most nights, but without him visiting the sheets began to lose their comforting smell. Thankfully, he already had a drawer for his stuff so you didn’t even have to ask him to give you anything. You even took one of his shirts the last time you visited his place so you could have something new.

Eddie presses a kiss to your forehead before resting his head on top of yours, almost whispering against your hair, “Oh honey, my sweet girl…,” he presses his nose to your hair to breathe you in and continues with a smile, “I missed you so much.”

His hands move from your waist to cup your cheeks after pulling away from you. There’s a moment where you two don’t say anything, just taking each other in for the first time in a month. Then, he pulls you closer to press a soft kiss to your lips. It’s not the passionate kiss you were craving all month, but you were happy to finally feel his soft lips against yours. You’re leaning into the kiss as the world disappears around you, at least until you hear someone clear their throat and you remember Eddie did not arrive here alone.

“Um, sorry, do we get a hello too?” You pull away from your boyfriend and look over to Jeff who was speaking and laugh at his request. Eddie’s gaze follows yours and he cocks a brow at his bandmate, looking absolutely pissed that his bassist dared to interrupt your moment with him, but also that Jeff wanted to take you away from him. Yes, you were good friends with the rest of the band, and yes he was sure you also missed them, but you were Eddie’s girlfriend. He wanted to hold onto you for as long as humanly possible. If he could, he’d sit in the driver’s seat and use his arms as your seatbelt when you drove home. Despite his protests, you fully let go of Eddie (to which he lets out a sad whine and follows you to the others) and give each member a greeting and a hug, asking how the flight was and making general small talk. Without any warning besides the quiet thud of his footsteps on the tile floor, Eddie moves to stand behind you and wrap his arms loosely around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. One of your hands reaches up to scratch the back ofhis scalp and he lets out a content hum, happy to just stand here all night as long as you never stop touching him.

“So…” you begin, turning your attention to the group as a whole, “how was the trip? Did you guys get to sleep for a little bit?” You feel Eddie shift a little bit behind you, unaware of the look he’s giving his friends who just chuckle. 

Grant looks Eddie directly in the eyes and replies, “Oh, definitely. Eddie was especially quiet so it was pretty easy.” You cock an eyebrow at Grant, a little suspicious of the claim since the Eddie you know, the Eddie who sleeps in your bed most days, is a known sleep talker and never shuts the hell up when he’s awake. There was never a quiet moment with him. This was especially the case now, given how Eddie hasn’t spoken since he held you. Usually he’d be going on and on about every thought that went through his head during the plane flight or things that happened between your last phone call and now. 

“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware that Eddie had a mute button. Where is it? Does he have a new secret freckle that I don’t know about? ” You point a finger in your boyfriend’s face while questioning the others. Eddie, taking the opportunity to get another laugh out of you, leans in and tries to playfully nip at your finger but you just move your hand away when he does so. He’s still silent and you’re becoming more suspicious of him by the second.

Jeff walks over, having gone to the nearest trash can to dispose of his empty bottle. He adjusts the backpack on his shoulder before replying, “Well, someone lost their voice last night at the end of the show.” The other two boys laugh and Gareth pulls his phone out to seemingly provide evidence for Eddie’s actions as Jeff continues on, “He was invited on stage for the last song of the night with the headliner It was fucking sick. The gutturals? Disgusting. ” 

Gareth hands his phone over to you with a video from Tiktok pulled up. You kept TikTok open throughout the night to watch everything unfold live, but somehow missed this part of the night. Maybe this was when you were trying to sleep or went on a cleaning spree. 

Like Jeff said, it was the last song of the night and they called Eddie on stage. The metalhead is sweaty from his previous performance but looks like he could go on all night if he had the chance. He has a smile on his face that fills your heart with pride, his joy only growing when the audience begins to cheer even more than they were before once he came on stage.  Eddie is still in his stage outfit and makeup, some smoky red eyeshadow, wearing a half buttoned up button-down shirt, distressed jeans, and his favorite combat boots. The unbuttoned shirt revealed sections of his tattoos and his two necklaces - one with your first initial on it and the other was his new lucky guitar pick. His original has been hanging around your neck for around two years now. You were sure the comments were flooded with people fawning over his looks, they always are. 

The two walk up to center stage as the band plays the first notes. You can almost feel the energy of the room just by watching the video. Everyone in the audience begins cheering. Everyone knows the lyrics and they all scream along with the two men on stage. The first notes of the song begin to play and the two vocalists make it to center stage before they start singing. Eddie has one foot up on the stage risers as he belts out the lyrics.

All in with a losing hand

The sun sets on a wanted man

No spine, born without a backbone

Two-faced, too late for a tombstone

 His screams are most akin to a deep growl from the back of his throat. He tried his best over the years to improve his guttural screams without damaging his throat, but maybe last night he got so excited that he forgot to take all the precautionary steps he took to prevent any damage. 

Eddie nods at this and speaks up as much as he’s able to and says, “I got carried away and fucked up. I could feel the damage happening maybe halfway through the song but there was no way I was gonna stop.”

 Jeff nods, muttering under his breath, “And you’re the one always lecturing us about proper technique…” Eddie huffs and raises a ringed middle finger to his bassist who did the only reasonable thing and gave Eddie one back.

You take a little pity on Eddie because he’s clearly annoyed at himself for doing this and how he hurt himself. You turn to him to peck his lips while soothingly rubbing his shoulders. Your touch is already making him feel better. All he wants to do is go home and snuggle up to you in order to make up for lost time. From behind you, there’s some muffled comments being made by the boys, including a sarcastic ‘I can never get over how whipped he is for her…’ coming from Gareth. Eddie tears his eyes from you to Gareth and hoarsely remarks, “At least I have a girlfriend.” It’s barely audible to them, given the condition of his voice and the overall noise levels of the airport, but they’re able to decipher what he said by lip reading. The reactions are mixed. Grant fakes offense, Jeff scoffs, and Gareth flips him off. Then, the younger man gets an idea. 

“You know…”, Gareth says, readjusting the bag hanging off one shoulder with a sly smile on his face, something you notice right away when you turn to look at him, “I’ve actually been acting as his interpreter. I’m pretty good.”

Your boyfriend scoffs and croaks out to Gareth, “No the fuck you’re not.”

Instantly, Gareth replies, “What’s that? You’re indefinitely appointing me as the new frontman? Aww, thanks man! I really appreciate that you trust me with the band!” Eddie shakes his head and is about to walk past you and try to knock some sense into his drummer, mainly because he’s tired and just wants to go home, but you’re still holding onto his shoulder so he stays put. He’s pursing his lips and is clearly ticked off by Gareth, which seems to have been his goal. Most of the time, Eddie could put up with Gareth’s shenanigans, but you swore that every time they went on tour Eddie would come back needing a break from him. He needed a break from everyone, really. That’s what was so great about this job. You’re stuck in a tiny van with them with zero time by yourself and once you get home you can just avoid them until you can bear to look at their faces again. They didn’t schedule a Hellfire session next week for this exact reason. Eddie didn’t want to hear any of their voices or look at them for a while. Hell, he wanted to forget the guys even existed. His plan was to spend time with you, spend time in you, and spend time catching up on his sleep… with you

He’s sick of standing here, he’s sick of the clothes he’s wearing, he’s sick of being awake. Eddie grabs his suitcase from the small pile of luggage that made up their belongings and said to you, “I wanna go home.” He pulls the handle up and takes your hand to begin walking towards the exit. You couldn’t understand what he was saying seconds ago and found the perfect opportunity to poke fun at him.

“Oh yeah, I’d love to watch Titanic when we get home! We can do a fun romance movie marathon!.”

Eddie stops in his tracks and spins to look at you. Did you not hear him correctly? Is his voice that messed up? It’s only when you’ve got the same shit-eating grin on your face that Gareth is wearing that Eddie realizes you’re just messing with him. He gives you the same glare he previously gave the rest of the band and lets go of you before turning to leave the building. You let Eddie take a few steps by himself before shouting out, “You’re going in the wrong direction!”

Eddie groans and turns around again. You and the boys are laughing and all decide it’s finally time to get going. Your boyfriend strode in the other direction to the other exit, one hand on his luggage and the other grabbing your hand again as he passed. You’re laughing even more now and follow him to the elevator leading to the parking garage. Everyone else follows behind and you all make your way upstairs and to your car.

All the bags are packed into the back and the boys into the seats. Eddie immediately claimed the front passenger seat to avoid being sandwiched between the other three, but it gave him the opportunity to hold onto you more. Once everyone was buckled in and ready you began the hour long drive from Indianapolis to Hawkins. There was some chatter at the beginning, but as time went on the chatter morphed into a loud conversation about god knows what. You kept your focus on the road in order to get everyone home as fast as possible. Your patience was beginning to wear thin so you couldn’t imagine how Eddie was feeling. Their loud comments were almost enough to drown out the car radio and the other vehicles whizzing past you on the highway. 

The entire time, Eddie kept one hand on your thigh. Neither of you had the energy for sex right now, but you couldn’t deny that his touch wasn’t getting you a little hot and bothered. You were used to satiating each other's urges whenever you had the chance so you had a month's worth of desires and urges to let out with him. When the time came for him to leave for tour, he made you promise not to touch yourself because ‘you can’t play with something that belongs to him’. You could have easily gone against his wishes, it was all for fun, but it just made his homecoming all the more exciting. His hands were warm and the heat went right through your jeans. He would squeeze your leg sometimes when you stopped and sometimes rub the inside of your thigh with his thumb. 

You drop everyone off at their respective homes and heave a sigh of relief once it’s just you and Eddie in the car. You love those guys, you really do, but sometimes when they’re all together in the same room (or in this case, car) they all start acting like lunatics. Your only saving grace was the fact that they all wore seatbelts and Eddie, the usual instigator of their chaos, was quiet and drained of all his energy. 

As you begin the drive to your apartment, you lower the radio volume until it’s merely background noise.  Eddie takes his hand away from your thigh and crosses his arms as he makes himself more comfortable. He even pulls his hoodie up to keep warm

You lived two towns over so the drive would be twenty minutes until you both could finally go to sleep. Out of the corner of your eye you see Eddie moving to recline the passenger seat a little bit and shut his eyes. 

“Get some rest, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

There was never a discussion about where he’d be staying the night, you just assumed he would be sleeping here. It was a peaceful, quiet drive. A few minutes after he got comfortable you heard his even, heavy breathing and smiled at how quickly he fell asleep. He tired himself out after that last show. Eventually, you roll into your complex’s parking lot and slow to a stop in your designated area. Once the car is off, you take one of Eddie’s hands and give it a squeeze to wake him up. His eyes flutter open and you give him a warm smile. He blearily rubs his eyes and slowly ambles out of the car. You grab his luggage and he picks up his guitar case to sling over his shoulder.  Once he’s out and all his belongings are out of the car, you go over to him and hold your hand out which he happily takes. It’s a short walk from your car but takes a little longer than normal thanks to everything you two are lugging and how sluggish your boyfriend is moving. Thankfully, the temperature wasn’t dipping too low so neither of you were in a hurry. Eventually you get to the front door of your apartment. Neither of you speak on the walk over, but it’s a comfortable silence so neither of you try to fix that. 

The door finally opens after you fight the lock for what feels like an eternity. Eddie sighs when he steps inside. He sets his guitar case down on the sofa and you put his luggage down next to the front door. You kick off your slippers as he leans against the couch to bend over and pull his sneakers off. Once those are off, he begins stripping down in the living room without saying a word. Eddie pulls his hoodie over his head and is followed by the Metallica shirt he wore underneath. Then, he pulls off his sweatpants to reveal… nothing else.

“Ed, honey, did you really take an 11-hour flight without underwear?”

Eddie turns to you as he takes his hair down out of the ponytail he was wearing. He runs his fingers through his hair and scratches at his scalp to relieve the tension from having his hair up for that long. Your beautiful boyfriend stands in the middle of your living room, completely drained and fully nude in front of the open living room window. Eddie looks at you and tiredly answers, “I didn’t feel like wearing them” like it’s completely normal. He’s beyond the point of holding a regular conversation. The dim lighting doesn’t help to hide the bags under his eyes. This would be a conversation to be held in the morning.

You sigh and shake your head at him. He’s bending over to pick his clothes up and you get a full view of his ass, and you won’t complain. It’s a great view. So great that you go over and give it a little tap. You don’t have the energy to give it a full-on smack, something else to tackle tomorrow. Eddie turns and has a small smile on his face. He takes the shirt in his hand and throws it at your face. You hate to admit it smells amazing - it’s a little more sweaty than the shirts he usually gives you since he was stuck in a cramped plane for eleven hours, but that was what somehow made it smell better. He picks up his laundry (minus the shirt) and carries it into your room. Your eyes are scanning his body as he walks inside. The only light source in the room is your bedside lamp, so there’s even less light in there. He’s half hard despite the exhaustion over the past 24 hours and you make a mental note to yourself to wake him up with a blowjob, he always loves that. All his dirty clothing is tossed onto the designated laundry chair, now a mix of your dirty clothes and his, before he flops down onto the bed on his stomach. He’s sprawled out like a starfish and groans when he hits the bed, burying his face in your pillows. It gives you the opportunity to ogle him more, the skeleton wings on his back and the bite mark that you gave him that he permanently tattooed onto the side of his neck. It’s the closest thing you guys had to matching couple tattoos - he had a bite from you on his neck, and you had his on your inner thigh. He was perfect.

You take the time to remove your clothing and strip down like Eddie did earlier. He turns his head a bit to watch you. His eyes trace your curves as the clothing falls off and is placed on the growing mountain in the corner. Once you’re properly undressed, he turns his head back to your pillows so he could  take in your fragrance again. The mix of your shampoo, soap, and natural scent was better than any drug.

“God, I’m fucking exhausted…”

You tiptoe over to the side of the bed and sit down next to him, moving a lock of curly hair away from his face so you can look at him more. He has a sleepy smile on his face, and it’s obvious that he’s on the verge of falling asleep. You reply, “Mm, I bet. Did you have fun?” 

The metalhead nods his head and takes your hand in his to kiss the back of it. Eddie missed a lot of things. He missed the smell of your bedsheets, your warmth when he woke up to your body curled up next to his, the long nights spent in bed just laughing and talking until one of you fell asleep. With his lips pressed against your hand, he mutters, “Yes, but I’m happy to be home…”

He called your apartment home. There was already a mix of his belongings in here besides his clothing so it would make sense that it felt like home to him. The question keeps flying around in your head, but again, it’s a conversation for tomorrow. Your blankets were calling your name, especially with this angel of a man under them. You reach to your bedside table and turn the light off with a soft click, the streetlights outside barely illuminating the room now. Eddie holds the sheets open for you as you tiredly climb inside. The last of your energy leaves your body the moment your head hits the pillow. A pair of strong arms encircle you again and pull you close so your chests are pressed together. You nuzzle him and give him a little kiss before whispering, “Goodnight, Eddie. Get some sleep.”

You two are both out within ten minutes.

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