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milla-frenchy · 1 month

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Morning waves

3k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Frankie Morales | ao3

Summary: you meet two men who are on a road trip. You like the same things: the ocean, surfing, dancing and having fun

Warnings: 18+ mdni. threesome MFM, praise kink, fingering, public sex, oral (m/f), piv, dp, anal play, rimming, anal, spit as lube, creampies

No age specified

a/n: this is a contribution to Jamie’s ocean challenge @mermaidgirl30 thank you for this great idea 👌🙏

I've wanted to write Frankie for a while, and even more so after reading “Down the hall” @frannyzooey 😍😍 and this challenge was perfect to introduce him as my new Pedro boy.

Dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

@aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta-ing, for the ideas, and for holding my hand with this one, as always 💕 🫶

Masterlist

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The first rays of sunshine were already warming you through the windows of your car. You were driving towards the ocean, ready to enjoy its waves. Every morning, very early, you were going to your favorite surf spot. This morning like the others, a few other surfers were also present. Between each set, you were all waiting on your boards, straddling them, letting yourself be carried away by their calm movement.

“You’re impressive”, you heard behind you.

You turned around, and met the most beautiful, sweetest brown eyes you had ever seen.

“Frankie, another set is coming.” You didn't look at the man who had spoken, immediately turning your gaze towards the horizon and new waves that were forming. You surfed that set and a few more.

When you were returning to the beach, you saw the man called Frankie taking off his wetsuit. The man next to him was doing the same. They smiled at you, when you approached them.

“Hi! I’m Joel, and this is Frankie.”

“Hi, guys!”

“Nice waves!” Frankie’s smile was really sweet. And cute.

“Yeah! Where are you from? I’ve never seen you before. And with that drawl…Texas, I guess?”

Joel laughed and replied “yeah, Austin. We’re on a road trip. Coming from northern California, heading to the south. Are you from here?”

“Yeah, I live here. I’m on holidays, enjoying the ocean.”

“That’s great! Seems like heaven here. Do you know any cool bars? We’ve just arrived, and we’re gonna stay for some time in this place,” Frankie asked.

“Yeah, there’s ‘The lagoon’. I'm gonna be there around 6 p.m., if you wanna join me?

“Sure! We’ll see you there.”

You spent the evening with them at the bar. Frankie and Joel had been friends for a long time, they told you about their trip, their lives in Texas. Joel worked as a contractor and Frankie was an ex-military, doing jobs with Joel from time to time. They were nice, cool, and made you laugh a lot. They were not flirty nor pushy, and you felt good and safe in their company.

Joel had a certain self-confidence, and was more direct than Frankie. His brown hair was shorter. His smile was devastating. Every evening, when the three of you met again, he wore jeans and a blue or black T-shirt which accentuated his torso and biceps.

Frankie was a little shyer. His slightly longer hair called for your fingers with its brown curls. His eyes and smile were incredibly soft. He often wore lighter pants, gray or brown t-shirts. A cap that he only took off to surf. Both men were beautiful.

You spent the next evenings with them, dancing and drinking shots at The lagoon. Every day you looked forward to seeing them at the beach, then at the bar. They were doing pretty well at surfing, asking for some advice from time to time, and making great progress.

One night, the three of you were on the beach, hoping to catch some Northern Lights. And you weren't disappointed. The sky was colored with pink, purple and blue lights, while you were lying next to each other on the sand, a little closer than usual. And when Frankie kissed your forehead and Joel your cheek as you were lying on the blanket between them, you felt heat in your core. You saw them differently for the first time.

The Lagoon was crowded. You sat on a stool at the counter, sipping your cocktail until you saw Joel enter the bar. He smiled at you and you wondered how many hearts he had broken. He was so hot. He joined you, hugged you and said “hey, sweetheart” with his Texan drawl.

“Isn’t Frankie here?” you asked him.

“He should be soon. He went to get a tattoo.”

“What, now?”

“Yeah”, he laughed.

You two danced, his hands settled on your hips. Slightly more intimate than usual. He smelled good. He smelled like the sun and the beach. He ran his hand over your back, which your summer dress barely covered. And when your eyes met, something was different.

You walked back to the counter, and he was smiling as he was drinking his beer. His eyes were fixed on you.

“What?” You asked him, smiling too.

“You’re damn pretty, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened slightly, hearing him. It was the first time he told you something like that. So directly. Even though last night, on the beach, the atmosphere was different between the three of you. Even though two minutes ago, when you were dancing, you felt the warmth of his fingers on your skin, and your hair stood up from the desire for him.

He waited for a few seconds, checking on your reaction. Took another sip. When he saw you smile at him again, he leaned towards you, his nose brushing against your cheek, his hand resting on your waist. You felt goosebumps again. Some electricity between you. And you saw in his eyes that he was feeling the same thing.

“Wanna have some fun tonight?”

You felt heat reach your cheeks but you nodded and murmured, “yeah.”

“Yeah?”

He got up, stood between your knees while you were still sitting on the stool, and leaned forward to kiss you. You felt your heart rate speed up. He placed his hands on your bare thighs and caressed them, slightly pushing the fabric up, as you ran your fingers over his biceps. Then he slipped one hand between your legs. Slowly. Stroking your inner thigh. You whimpered when his fingers brushed against your pussy through your panties.

“You want more, darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel...”

“You gonna let me finger you in here?” he asked, his cheek against yours. His soft beard against your skin.

“Yeah…”

He slid your panties to the side, and his fingers brushed against your folds, making you moan into his neck. He looked up and said, “hey, Frankie.”

You felt shy and tightened your thighs against his legs. He kissed your cheek then said in your ear, on the side where Frankie was standing to make sure he would hear “I’m sure he’d love to touch you too,” before looking back at you. His fingers were still brushing against your delicate skin, and you really wanted to feel him more. To calm the fire, burning you from the inside.

You looked at him, then turned your head towards Frankie. His stare was still soft, but not only. You saw the desire for you in his eyes.

“Do it Frankie”, you told him. At that moment you didn't care about anything else anymore. The crowded bar. The people who could see you, and wonder what the three of you were doing. Or knowing too well what you were doing.

“Are you wet, baby?” Frankie asked.

You nodded and whined, the second Joel pushed a finger in your core.

“She’s soaked”, Joel said, nuzzling your neck, and you bit your lip.

“Damn, baby,” Frankie moved closer, the two men now standing in front of you. When one of Frankie's fingers joined Joel's in your pussy, your fists clenched their shirts. One of them stroked your clit with his thumb, but you didn’t know who. It turned you on even more. Their fingers slid into your wetness, pumping your pussy at the same rhythm, and you tried to hold back your moans even if it was getting more and more difficult.

“You're gonna come for us?” You shook your head “I…I can’t. Not here. Too many people.”

“Forget about them. Soak our fingers, baby. And then we’ll have some time together in our van if you want.”

“Yeah…Yes. Fuck.” You felt their eyes fixed on you. They were close to you, so close, protecting you from the eyes of others. Your pussy tightened around their fingers and you were trembling more and more. You felt another thumb near your clit that soon replaced the other one, and whimpered. Your pussy was trickling, and they could have pushed more fingers in easily.

“Come for us, sweetheart. Right here, in this bar. God, you’re fucking hot.”

You bit your lip as you came on their fingers, your pussy clenching desperately on them. They kept fingering you through it, until one of them put your panties back in place, then your dress. You watched Joel lick his finger with a look full of desire, and your arousal increased even more.

“Take me to your van, please. I need…I need more”, you breathed.

Frankie kissed your cheek, and Joel placed his hand on the small of your back as you got off the stool. Your legs were shaky and he held your elbow until you reached the parking lot then the van. Frankie offered to come to the back with him, on the mattress that they had already set up for the night, without knowing how it would end. You both lay there as Joel started driving. You didn't know where and right now you didn't care. Frankie was already leaning towards you, kissing your cheek then your neck. Your fingers ran through his soft curls. His hand rested against your face at first, then he brought it to his mouth. Licking the finger you had come on, just as Joel had done a few minutes before.

“Damn baby, you taste so good. Can I go down on you?”

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

“Fuck…Ok.”

The van was swaying on a bumpy road when Frankie knelt between your thighs, and took off your dress, then your panties. He brought them to his nose and breathed them slowly, keeping his eyes on you, and the vision was intoxicating. The way they wanted you was driving you crazy. He turned the front of his cap backwards, and lay down between your thighs. He growled as he licked a long stripe between your folds.

“Jesus Christ, Frankie…you lucky bastard”, Joel said.

Frankie was already lapping at your pussy, and he was good at it. So good that you already felt a new orgasm building, while he was drinking all your wetness, his thumb twirling on your clit.

“Frankie…oh my god”, you whimpered.

You heard Joel unzip his jeans and pull out his cock. “You’re so hot that Joel can’t help fisting his cock while driving, baby” he said, before licking your folds again.

“Fuck, of course I do. All these moans are killing me. How does she taste? Tell me.”

“The sweetest taste, man...” He grabbed your thighs to pull you closer to him. As if he wanted more, always more, and you couldn’t stop moaning.

“Jesus...” Joel growled, as you heard the sound of his wrist fucking his cock.

Your fingers were lost in Frankie’s brown curls, while his nose rubbed perfectly against your clit and his tongue roamed your pussy.

“Frankie…”

“Yeah baby, tell me.”

“Your fingers, please, need your fingers.”

“Like this, mmm?” he asked, pushing two fingers in you.

“Yeah…your tongue too, please.”

His lips surrounded your clit, sucking gently, before giving way to his tongue. His wrist gently pumped your pussy and you felt your wetness running down your folds to the sheets.

“Fuck, baby…I can hear the pretty little noises of your pussy from here, you’re so fucking wet.”

“I know, I know, oh my god, Frankie!” You squeezed his head between your thighs when you came, letting him lick your folds until you stopped shaking. The van's engine was off, but you didn't realize you had stopped. You heard the sound of the waves as Joel opened his door to join you in the back.

“Fuck sweetheart, look at that… he ate you good, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah…fuck”, you breathed out.

Frankie shifted aside slightly and Joel lay down, his shoulders between your knees. He caressed your folded thighs, and delicately licked your wetness, being careful not to stimulate your overly sensitive clit.

“You taste so fuckin’ good, darlin’. Lemme eat ya just a little, ok? “ he said, moving his hand up your sweaty stomach, to a breast that he grabbed. Frankie kissed your thigh, while he caressed your other breast. You moaned again, your stomach rising rapidly with your heavy breathing. Joel’s beard rubbed against your inner thighs. He ran his tongue flat through your folds, sometimes down to your tight ring. Before going back up again, tirelessly. You imagined their hard cocks and you couldn’t wait to feel them in you.

“You want us to fuck you, baby?”

You nodded, “yeah, need your cocks.”

“Damn, could do this for hours. How do you want us?”

“I huh… I don’t know, I’ve never done that…with two men.”

They looked at each other then Frankie said “we’re gonna undress and we’ll see how it goes, ok?”

“Yeah, seems good.”

“If you’re not comfortable with something, you tell us right away, ok? We’re all here to have fun. Ok, darlin’?”

You nodded and smiled. They were so considerate and careful with you. You helped Frankie unzip his pants and take them off, then his boxers, and held your breath when you saw his cock. “We’ll go slow, baby”. “We?” You widened your eyes and turned to Joel, already in his underwear, taking off his t-shirt. “Oh fuck”, you said when you saw his bulge. You brushed his crotch and he spread his thighs wider. He was so hard, and so big too. You whispered “fuck...” again, before getting on all fours, facing him. You took his cock out of his boxers, the precum glistening on his red tip. You spread it with your thumb and jerked his cock, while Frankie was caressing the roundness of your buttocks, kneeling behind you. You licked the tip, letting Joel’s taste run down your mouth and then your throat.

“You’re ready for me, baby?”

“Yes, Frankie.”

He nestled his cock at your entrance, pushing in. You whined when he thrust deeper, gripping your hips as leverage. And for a minute you didn’t move, Joel’s cock in your hand, catching your breath. Frankie kept thrusting until he bottomed out. Pushing on your walls. And you started to suck Joel’s cock, his hands on your head, but letting you lead the pace.

You moved your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on Frankie’s cock. He wasn’t moving, letting you lead too. Your mouth on Joel’s shaft followed the movement of your hips at the same pace as you impaled yourself on the cock, piercing you.

“Fuck, fuck. Sucking me so good.”

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight. So good for my cock.” You loved how they were praising you. Frankie’s hands roamed your body. Your back, your waist, your hips, as your thumbs caressed Joel’s balls, your head still bobbing on his shaft, your lips gradually getting used to his size.

You pulled him out of your mouth and licked his tip, looking at him you asked, “Frankie, will you let Joel fuck me?”

“Of course, anything you want.”

You lay on your back, inviting Joel to come between your thighs. He lay there, his cock in his hand, and pushed in. Frankie lay against you, and turned your face towards him. Kissing you as Joel thrust in.

“Damn, sweetheart…Frankie was right, you’re so tight. Squeezing me so hard, fuck…”

You whined in Frankie’s mouth while Joel was kissing your neck. He thrust in slowly before pulling back. Repeating the movement endlessly, while your legs spread wide gave him full access. Frankie leaned down and took one of your breasts in his hand, sucking on the nipple, his lips wrapped around it. Joel gave you a forehead kiss, his thick cock buried in you. Sometimes Frankie would slide his hand up to your clit, rubbing it lightly, and your pussy would contract on Joel's cock, making him groan. Their mouths and hands were brushing your skin constantly.

They took turns between your legs, drawing two new orgasms out of you. Seeing them, feeling them fucking you, one then the other, was turning you on desperately and your pussy was weeping. When one of them was kissing you, searching for your tongue with his, the other was kissing your neck, your cheek, sucking a nipple. You loved feeling their mouths on you at the same time.

They fucked you, one then the other, and they never seemed to get tired, filling your pussy perfectly each in their own way. Until you wanted more, and needed more.

“More? Tell us what you want, sweetheart.”

“I want you both…at the same time.”

“Oh, baby. You want our two cocks filling your two holes?” said Frankie, his cock buried in your cunt.

“Yeah, I’d like to try…”

“It’s ok, baby. We’ll go slow.”

“Yeah. Frankie?”

Frankie nodded, pulling out of you.

“Get on me, sweetheart.”

Joel lay on his back and you straddled him, grabbing his cock and sinking on it. You brushed his cheek and kissed him, before pressing your chest against his, giving free access to Frankie.

He spread your buttocks, your ring was glistening by the wetness that had been flowing there continuously. He passed his thumb slowly, lingering very lightly over it, as you rolled your pelvis slowly towards Joel. Then Frankie leaned down and started to lick it, pointing his tongue against your tight muscle. His hands now gripping your ass, he softened it under the tip of his tongue. Sometimes dropping his saliva on it, and lightly pushing his thumb in. Then a little deeper. He did it patiently, taking his time to prepare you. He was feeling his cock twitching. Your head resting on Joel's shoulder, you were moaning continuously, overwhelmed by the cock in your pussy, and the tongue opening you little by little. They were so hot, they took care of you so well since the start of the evening at the Lagoon. Attentive to your desires, to your reactions. Slightly changing the pace or position depending on your respiration, the pressure of your hands.

Eventually, Frankie pulled away. “You still want it, baby?”

“Yes, yes. Just…go slow, please, Frankie.”

“Of course. Lemme wet my cock in her pussy a little, Joel”, he asked. You pulled away from Joel slightly and he pulled out, his cock rubbing against your clit. Frankie pushed his cock easily in your dripping pussy, fucking it with one hand on your hip, and his thumb on your ass. Joel placed his hand on your neck, his forehead against yours, and murmured “you gonna take us both, sweetheart?”

“Fuck, yeah…Yeah, I’m gonna take you both, oh my god I can’t believe it’s happening…”

Franck grabbed his cock in his hand, and positioned it against your ring.

“Kiss me, sweetheart”, Joel muttured, stroking your hair. You looked up at him, his hands cupping your cheeks before coming to press his lips to yours. Quickly, his tongue sought yours, just as Frankie pushed in. You felt the muscle resisting at first, then gradually giving up. You whined in Joel’s mouth, his tongue never stopping brushing yours. You knew he wanted to make you forget the pain. Then he nibbled one of your lips, before licking it. Kissing you again. Until Frankie bottomed out, his balls against Joel's cock. He didn't stay buried and pulled back as slowly, before thrusting in again.

“Oh, fuck. Baby…it’s so good, fuck…”

“I can feel your cock Frankie, damn…are you ok, sweetheart?”

You nodded, unable to speak. Overwhelmed by all these emotions you were feeling. Your body was in the middle of theirs, and you felt fulfilled. Their hands were all over your upper body. Frankie’s mouth placed a thousand kisses on your shoulder blades and the back of your neck. Joel's hands caressed your breasts, your ass, your thighs. You heard them grunt and moan, in turn or together. You felt a new orgasm building, from rubbing your clit against Joel's lower abdomen.

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come”, you whined.

“Come on baby, come again. Fuck, your ass is so good, baby.”

“Come on our cocks, sweetheart. Then we’ll fill you up. We’ll fill that pussy and that ass.”

“Oh fuck”, you whimpered, coming on their cocks, clenching them. You wondered if you hadn’t fainted, for a moment.

You heard Frankie growling, and Joel calling you a “good girl”, just before he pulsed as deep as possible in you, followed by Frankie.

You all froze, panting. Catching your breath. Then Frankie pulled back, placing one last kiss on your back. You pulled away from Joel after kissing him, and you lay against him. Frankie lay against you on the other side, spooning you, his hand on your hip. Their cum flowing from both of your sore holes.

You slept there, sometimes waking up during the night, feeling their bodies against yours or their arms around you. Snuggling against one of them then the other.

When the rays of the sun woke the three of you and Frankie opened the van door, you had a direct view of the ocean. Its color was perfect. The most beautiful blue. And also these pastel, pink colors of the sky, at dawn.

You spent the day with them. You surfed, took photos. Frankie’s freshly tattooed forearm with the word “adventure.” You looked at them so many times during that day. And every time your eyes met, you all blushed and giggled, thinking about the night you had spent.

You returned to the Lagoon, and didn't leave them until they finally gave up on the idea of going all the way to Southern California. They called you “our girl”. Their hands, tongues and cocks roaming every inch of your body, just as yours on theirs. They stayed with you until they had to return to Texas.

The day before, Frankie went to get another tattoo. Joel told you Frankie always got one at every place they visit, a tattoo of the best thing there. He showed it to you when he came back: a surfboard with your name on it. You hugged him so tight that he could barely breathe and couldn’t stop laughing, squeezed by your arms.

At the airport, they held you until the last minute. And your heart sank when they left.

A few months later, you were sitting at the same airport. Ready to board for Austin. So that they, in turn, could introduce you to their lives.

You looked at the sun through the large windows of the airport, and smiled. Life offers good surprises sometimes. Yours was Joel and Frankie.

***************

Thank you for reading 🙏

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 4 months

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good morning!! it's @henderdads' birthday!!!! happy happy happy birthday to youuuu cass!!!

The minute Eddie Munson turned 18, he could see it; the only color he would see until he and his soulmate kissed for the first time.

Yellow.

Rays and rays of warm yellow sunshine, the middle light (and middle light only) of the one stoplight in town, one half of their school colors, the dandelions spotted agross the grass between the trailers, the stubborn daffodils that keep reappearing in Ms. Wilson’s garden though she’s long since passed…

The half-toned things he’s told are green, half yellow, half blue, and that he got lucky his soulmate’s favorite color wasn’t black or gray (then he felt glad he’d settled on a different color than either of those by time he was older, he didn’t want to subject his soulmate to more black and white..

After Steve Harrington turns 18, he can see the color of the lipstick his mom wore in their last family portrait, the color of the punch that gets spilled all over Nancy’s shirt at Tina’s halloween party, the stripes and piping on his godforsaken Scoops uniform, the red of his own blood rushing down the drain beneath his feet.

The dark tone puddled beneath Eddie’s limp body in the Upside Down.

The same color splashed onto Dustin’s arms and legs.

Pressing his hands into it to stop it from spreading, to start it flowing again, Steve presses his lips to Eddie’s once…he hasn’t done CPR since he worked at the pool….twice…”C’mon man, don’t leave him like this.”....

The third time is when it happens.

The feeble beat of Eddie’s heart starting again, the push of breath into his lungs, the sudden flood of cool, dark colors around them.

“Eddie? Eddie! C’mon man, stay with me.”

It looks like it takes a herculean effort to do so, but Eddie’s eyes open. “H–hey, Harrington. Wh–”

“I’m going to pick you up now, Ed,” Steve says, doing just that, tucking Eddie into his chest and starting for the trailer. “El is keeping the gate open for us but we gotta hurry.”

The four of them manage to get him out through the gate and into the RV, this time with Nancy behind the wheel.

Having to let him go at the doors to the ER is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but he manages, Robin telling him over and over again that she’d already called Eddie’s Uncle and that he’d be safe.

While they’re waiting, filthy and exhausted but victorious nonetheless, Nancy says to him: “It’s blue, by the way. The…everything down there has some sort of blue tinge to it.”

Steve doesn’t ask how she knew, just appreciates that he can look at something and she’ll tell him the name of the color.

The pattern of the chairs is orange and purple, the plant in the corner is green (“All plants are some shade of it for the most part.”), the wallpaper is his favorite though.

“It’s yellow.”

“I guess I know what color Eddie’s been seeing the past few years..” It’s the first and last thing he says until Wayne Munson comes to get them.

“You three need’ta be looked at too. Not jus’ Henderson.”

He leads them back to a room, and Steve recognizes Dr. Owens there waiting for them.

They get looked over, they get cleaned up, and Steve gets a shot of something that’s supposed to help stave off anything those flying rats may have given him.

And for the next week, he stays.

He and Wayne maintain a constant vigil at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne leaves for his shifts when he has to, Steve is allowed to stay because of his soulmate status, and Eddie wakes up a little more than a week later.

Wayne had left a couple hours ago, so Steve will have to call him at the plant but first: “Steve?” Eddie manages to croak out when his eyes crack open the first time.

“Hey Eds, welcome back to the world of the living.”

Eddie shuts his eyes and huffs a laugh, then cringes, “Still painful as always, I see.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you see?”

Steve watches his brow furrow as he tries to make sense of the question, watches as he opens his eyes again, a bit further this time, and when they widen in amazement as they travel around the room.

“What–? What the hell..?” The heightened beeping of his heart monitor makes Steve feel almost giddy, getting to watch him see this for the first time. “What nurse kissed me while I was out?” He pauses, staring down a painting of colorful wildflowers on the opposite wall before turning back to Steve. “And can they come back so I can get more pain meds?”

Steve chuckles as he stands stiffly from the hospital chair he’d been all but glued to for the last week, reaching over Eddie’s head to press the call button.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, of course.”

“Thank you, I try, but what’d I do this time?”

“It wasn’t a nurse, Eds.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment, confused, “I don’t quite have the brainpower for riddles, Stevie.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the nickname, “It wasn’t a nurse, it was when we were still in the—down there.” he pauses, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Did Eddie want it to be him? His first assumption was one of the nurses… “Someone had to give you CPR.”

He watches as Eddie scrolls through what he can only assume is a roster of their “Team Vecna”; Nancy? It’s been known that she’s been able to see in full color since she and Jonathan got together. Dustin? Yeah..no. Ro–

“And it wasn’t Robin.” Steve says when he sees Eddie’s lips curl into an ‘R’.

“Then who—”

It dawns on him at the same time the summoned nurse arrives with a new shot of whatever it is he needs.

She leaves with an excited “We’ll call Wayne!”, and Eddie drops his head back to his pillow.

Steve’s stomach twists anxiously. “Eddie?”

“So you’re telling me that the one and only Steve Harrington gave me the kiss of life and also the gift of colorvision, and I wasn’t conscious enough to experience it properly?”

Steve ducks his head, scratching behind his ear nervously. “Uh…yeah…? Sorry Eddi–”

“Can you do it again?”

His head snaps up again, “Huh?”

“And preferably before I lose the battle for my consciousness?”

Eddie’s face is soft and open, a smile quirking the pink of his lips and crinkling those dark eyes of his…Who is Steve to tell him no?

He smiles softly in return and stands.

Leaning forward with his weight braced to one side of Eddie’s head, the other hand coming up to cup his uninjured cheek, Steve kisses him properly for the first time.

The first of many many many more to come.

eeee i hope you liked this little thing!!! i've never written anything w soulmates before!! 🥹 i hope you have the most bestest day today, friend!! 🫶🫶

#i looked back at your trope tier list for this 👀#damn was that tag game useful or what?#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #soulmates #st #stranger things #eddie munson x steve harrington #steveddie #eddeve #noelle writes

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just-a-drawing-bean · 11 months

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A Dazzling Game of Uno

Short drabble about Sun, Moon, and Razzle in an enthralling game of Uno below the cut.

Word count: 1,380

“Uno”

Razzle leans back in his chair, folding one pair of arms behind his head, the other pair resting on the round table in front of him, clasped atop his last remaining card. Groans broke out from the two bots surrounding him as they stared at the blue four sitting on the pile of cards.

“There’s no way you can be this good at Uno. You must be cheating.” Grumbles Moon while throwing his few remaining cards face down in frustration. He looks off to the side, frowning while ignoring Razzle’s smug grin.

Sun slouches forward in accepted defeat, rays flaring slightly as he adds on, “Yeah! This is the fourth time in a row.”

“Now, now.” Razzle’s soothing voice cuts through the whines of the celestial pair, “You would accuse me of cheating in my own casino?” He quirks an eyebrow at the two then gives a slight chuckle. “And at Uno much less. Now, I'm not one to cheat but I’d certainly never do so in my favorite game.” Sun groans lightly in frustration, running his hand over his face and rays while Moon only crosses his arms and narrows his eyes.

Razzle leans in slightly, uncrossing the arms behind his head to prop his faceplate on his hands. His grin stretching wider by the second. He waits a beat before speaking, squinting his eyes playfully, he taunts. “Look boys, I haven't won yet. Sunshine, it's your turn.”

Eager to get the crushing defeat over with, Sun haphazardly lays down a card at random, a green four. Suddenly Moon perks up the slightest amount before smoothing his expression back to the disgruntled look he wore seconds before. Nonchalantly he places a green card on the top of the deck while making direct eye contact with his ever-so-slightly taller brother.

“Skip.”

Razzle tilts his head in response, unbothered. “Prolonging your loss, Moonlight?” He looks over at their solar brother, “Well, It's back to you Sunshine. I hope you’ve still got some fire in you, It would only be fitting.” Sun rolls his eyes at Razzle’s tease, instead focusing on the cards he has and the cards he hopes Moon has.

Typically, counting cards would be a sin in gambling, but this was a friendly match between brothers. All of them have perfect memory, as animatronics, so they let themselves indulge in card counting. This time. Sun runs the calculations, the possibilities of what his brothers’ cards could be, and hopes that he can set Moon up in a way to foil Razzle. Even if he doesn't win, at least he can have the satisfaction of knocking his youngest brother down a peg.

Hoping that luck was in his favor, Sun places a wild card and calls the color red. He knows Moon has a red, but it is uncertain what Razzle’s last card is. Even knowing the cards in play can't guarantee the final color. All attention falls on Moon. He silently thanks his solar counterpart for setting him up. Moon holds his last three remaining cards up as if contemplating a move he already has planned before placing down a red reverse. Two sets of optics flick to the solar animatronic. Sun straightens his back and gives a sneaky grin, his rays turning slowly. With a quick flick of his wrist, He deposits a yellow reverse card on the top of the stack.

“Having fun ping-ponging your turns?” Razzle asks, amusement coloring his voice. He rhythmically taps his fingers on the table and then shifts his piercing gaze to Moon. “Let's hope you have something more interesting up your sleeve, hm?” Moon lets out a soft chuckle, shuffling his two remaining cards idly in his hand before replying, “Nah, I don't have any other fancy tricks, just wishing on a miracle.”

Moon plucks one of his cards and gingerly places it. A red zero. He cooly looks up at his brother, anticipating a defeat, but hoping for a win.

“Uno.”

Razzle lets his gaze slowly travel over his two brothers. His grin doesn't falter. He doesn't need to look at his card to know it's a winning card. He simply tilts his head and flicks his rays in a circle before reaching out to grab a new card from the deck. “Well,” Razzle cooly directs towards Sun. “It's your move.”

“OH! OH!” Sun exclaims excitedly, his eyes opening fully and brightening. “Oh Moon, we’ve got him!” He shakes his hands around lightly and his rays spin with vigor. Moon looks over at Sun and his grin quirks up a bit at the edges, assured in his victory. His raspy voice drifts out, “Hold on there Sunny, it's still your turn. I haven’t won yet.” Sun quickly calms his composure and settles on a passive grin.

Taking a deep synthetic breath, Sun trilled, “Ok, ok! I'm calm. Oh, I hope this card works for you.”

Pretending to pick at his fingers, Moon nonchalantly replied. “Whatever card will do, Sunny, as long as there's no negative effect.”

Razzle glanced over at Moon, voice box crackling to life. “You better not be going out on a plus four. That's against the rules you know.” The two bots held each other’s gaze for a beat before Moon casually leaned back in his chair, red eyes gleaming with amusement. He replied, “I’m well aware of the rules, Razz. Don't get your wires in a twist.”

Razzle let out a short chuckle and shook his head lightly, turning back to Sun, waiting for the next play. Both his sets of rays slightly pulling in and out in a lethargic pulsing pattern. Sun gave a bright energetic smile that only he could give before vigorously slapping a red nine down. “Ok!” He proclaimed, “Moony it's up to you!” Moon took his time drawing out his well-earned victory. He sat up in his chair and swept imaginary dust off his ruffled baby blue button-up.

Turning first towards his bright older brother, he saw Sun swaying in excitement as he anticipated Moon to win in this brotherly game of Uno. Moon felt a fond wave of affection for the one who had been with him all his life and gave him a confident grin before turning towards his younger brother. Razzle might be hard to read while in the middle of a game, but Moon knew him well enough to see the love and pride hidden in his seemingly unbothered expression. He was proud of them, not just about the game, but for how far the three of them had made it, together.

Moon gently reached towards his final card and flipped it over revealing a wild card. He placed it on Sun’s red nine and stated. “I win.”

Sun immediately stood up and rejoiced, “FINALLY! Oh thank goodness Moony, you did it!” he turned towards his youngest brother adding on, “Razzie you know I love you, but it certainly is disheartening to lose so many games in a row.” He playfully narrowed his eyes at that. “Of course, you wouldn't know that, you hardly lose for long.” Sun began to tut at him while playfully shaking his finger. Razzle stood up as well, the rounds of games ending for the night. He chuckled lightly and replied, “You’d certainly be correct on that, so let us end the night on a high for you two.” Crossing his lower set of arms while the upper rest on his hips he gave a genuine smile and tilted his head towards his darker brother.

“Moonshine.” He praised, “Good game.”

“A good game indeed.” Came the low-toned reply.

Moon was enjoying his victory, a smug grin plastered on his face, foot tapping to some unseen song, arms crossed in triumph. Razzle hadnt seen him look so pleased in quite a while. Building up to Moon’s win had definitely made it all the sweeter. And golden Sun, he was just as ecstatic as if he himself had won, not their lunar brother. His rays spun wildly and his eyes shone with excitement. Sun could hardly contain his joy as his body shook and swayed. He’d throw any game if it meant they were happy.

“Come on then,” He announced while turning to leave the private room, “ We’ve got a casino to run.”

#razzle dazzle #eclipse fnaf #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #fnaf fic #thinking of names for the au #how does All That Glitters sound?#yes like the song :)#all that glitters au #atg au

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jadeee · 8 months

Text

Coworker!Nanami

Because we all wish he was our coworker.

Word Count: 700

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @firefly-graphics

Get your coworker!nanami fix lol: @daisynik7 @mahirublue @sirens-singing @goddessinsweats @nanami-s-sunshine @imnotsureaboutwhatimdoing @slimlydan

⁂ Shy at first. He wants to talk to you but he doesn't want to come off as obsessed or weird.

⁂ Initial talks are work related. One time, he was bold enough to ask you what your weekend plans were and when you asked him the same, he hesitated.

"Nothing really."

"No hot date or girl to tend to?" you smirked and it made his heart leap among other things.

"I'm afraid not."

⁂ You need help? He's there. Something wrong? He's listening to you vent. Someone pissed you off? Oh, he's going to talk to them. Not in front of you of course, but they'll come back with a sudden change in attitude. Working late? He's staying to make sure you get to your car/transportation safely. If you're not comfortable with that, for wtv reason, he'd either watch you from afar or ask you to call him so he knows you're safe.

⁂ Started keeping snacks for when you don't eat or forget to take your lunch. He works up the nerve to suggest you two grab something at a cafe and tries not to blush so hard when you happily agree.

⁂ Lots of stolen glances and silent admiring. His work has never been affected until he started to get to know you. It becomes even harder after you give him a little trinket, which he keeps safe on his desk.

You folded your sticky note into an origami shape, like the fortune tellers you used to make as a kid.

"What's that for?"

Your fingers worked at it, opening and closing, "Telling fortunes," open, close. It looked somewhat like a blossoming lotus "Go ahead, ask a question."

His lips faltered.

"Okay fine, keep it to yourself. Color?"

"Blue."

Your fingers shifted the shape, "Number?"

"2." he watched you play fortune teller then eyed you with amusement. When you glance up at him with raised brows, he tried not to look guilty for admiring your beauty seconds ago.

Your chuckle filled the elevator as he stared at you dumbfounded, "Pick another number."

"Oh, 5."

It was silly how his anticipation built by the second, but he wanted to know the answer... he had to.

He shifted his stance as you lifted the paper to (hopefully) ease his anxieties.

"Try again later ... tsk," you handed him the fortune teller "let me know what it says."

The doors to the elevator opened but neither of you moved. No matter how he tried to conceal his smile, the light in his eyes was evidence enough.

He quietly agreed, trying not to blush when his fingers brushed against yours as he took this silly little plaything in his hand.

The question lingered in his mind like a stubborn fly insistent on getting a taste. He readjusted himself in the chair then went back to reading. A frustrated sigh left his lips when he read the same sentenced three times. He set down the book and walked to the closet. His fingers wrapped around the fortune teller you gave him days ago. He slid his thumbs and forefingers in like he watched you do.

Should I? he looked to the folded paper for answers.

Yellow ... 7 ... 2 ... yes.

Epilogue:

The next day he approached you before going to his own desk. Although your smile touched his heart, he couldn't bring himself to say it ... not yet.

"I'm getting a pastry from the cafe. Did you want one?"

"Sure!"

His heart thumped in his ears as he walked off. When he finally made it back, he felt tense. His muscles tight, breathing rapid, heart racing. Then, he saw your eyes light up when he walked in.

"Thank you," you reached for the box and he handed it to you with a shy smile.

Normally, he'd say "you're welcome" or "my treat", "don't mention it", but he was looking at you with soft eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"That depends."

"On what?"

"... will you go out with me?"

His eyes landed on yours and he saw the joy in them before you said anything else.

"Is lunch too soon?"

He grinned at your eagerness. Ideally he'd suggest dinner, his place at 8 but he'd waited long enough. Yellow, 7, 2.

"Sounds perfect."

Author's Note: AAAAHHHHHH

That's all I have to say 🥲

p.s.: i lied.. originally this was scheduled to post monday but i needed to share it before going back to work 😂 i want to hear your thoughts and also mutually sob over the fact that he's not real!

#jjk nanami kento #nanami kento headcanons #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento #jjk nanami #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami #jujustu kaisen #coworker!nanami #madebyjade

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planetsxmore · 2 years

Text

SHORT MESSAGES FROM YOUR FUTURE LOVER

one two three

four five six

lowkey inspired to make this as i saw a few other blogs - this a short pac that'll consist of complete/incomplete sentences channeled by your future lover/spouse/soulmate- choose your pile carefully! - you can choose more than one pile if you'd like - used intuition and rw tarot deck for this reading - this is a general reading and may or may not resonate for you all - stay positive,and hydrated loves <33

your likes and reblogs will be appreciated •

ꕤ PILE 1

you're the sunshine to my darkness

are you okay? because i'm not

stop doubting yourself,you're amazing and complete! i love you for how you are -

i can't wait to have you in my arms but i know that's not possible - even after we meet because it'll take us time to realize how much we love each other

the color blue is our color..

it takes time to heal wounds and broken hearts

you're the best thing that ever happened to me

i'm insecure and i'm afraid you'll run away from the scars i have...

let us dance all night,talk all night - love all night...

i love your smile,it's adorable

ꕤ PILE 2

stop it,you're tickling me...

we're literally more than friends,more than best friends even....

it's uncanny the way we both understand each other. words aren't even needed to express what we want to communicate with each other

we're weird,and we know it- and frankly speaking we don't don't care *wink*

our love is more like an understanding - it's pure,less of the lust and more of the emotional love - we laugh with each other,cry with each other and do absolutely everything together - if we haven't met,i know it's unbelievable for you but you'll believe me once we meet, darling.

you hate my pet,why tho?

our dates are the best - they're soo secretive yet soo quirky lol

you hate it when i snort/snore/slurp - but i can't help it love xD

i gave you my everything yet you didn't think of it alot. why does it feel unrequited at times?

our taste is very similar..in almost alot of things

ꕤ PILE 3

i really love the way your body looks or may look,keeps me guessing...

you're a little too sensitive,can you be a little open? i mean c'mon life's about fun - don't waste yourself overthinking most of the time

whenever i listen to love songs,it reminds me of you..

you're jealous of my exes,but what am i suppose to do if i'm soo hot --

i feel as though so much,so much could be better between the two of us. i'm a little impatient in everything and i can't change that,love - i've tried, trust me

idk why you're soo shy,i'm all in for you -

i hope you understand that i'm not the one to believe in "happy ever after-s" - it's life,babe - we gotta understand it's not a storybook

i love it how you listen to me,it makes me feel as you're the one for me for life - but again,i don't believe in story tales - kinda love. i love it fast - and quick -

clinginess is not anything i love neither co dependency

i love it when my gifts make you happy - the twinkle in your eyes are everything!

[ loves,i don't know how you feel about this pile - but for some of you, i feel you're attracting a very toxic lover/fs - if that's the case,and you don't feel good about this pile- please don't worry since this is the future you're attracting at the moment - change your energy and be a little more positive to attract a better future and partner / you don't need to end up with such an individual if you don't want to - however,if you're fine with this,then no prob! ]

ꕤ PILE 4

close your eyes and imagine - i know you'll feel me around you...

i love how we do homely activities together (cooking/cleaning/working etc.)

you and i are equals. - equals for life

we argue like little kids and make out at the very next moment..

you're my jellybean and i'm your savior.

you always end up in trouble and i always end up fixing it all for you,but i'm with you don't worry

i'll find you but you need to be strong till then! don't let your feelings out for just anyone please

you like my car and i like your lips ...*winks*

it's soo funny how you'll hide your feelings for me and it'll be obvious at the same time..i'll do the same thing.. honestly it'll be a circus and we'll be like two clowns until we confess

please bear with me when i close off. i have past baggages that make me feel isolated at times and opening up can be difficult. just stay with me,i promise i'll open up for you,love.

ꕤ PILE 5

you're literally my drug - i don't know if it's toxic or not,but all i know is that i feel strongly for you ... strongly.

you love my hugs,i know you do .

i know i'm usually very busy and taking out time can be difficult - but i'll manage i promise,just don't go away with anyone else.

you're my favorite - my utmost favorite

maybe sometimes you'll feel as though i'm selfish - wanting all of your body,time and love for myself while i give you less -- but what can i do,love? it's just the way i am. i crave you... can't see you with anyone,even your work bothers me at times when you ignore me because if it - i'm sorry,i'll try to work in these habits...but habits are difficult to change y'know?

i'm possessive,yes i am. i don't want any third party between us - any !

you love our long drives and dinner dates , and i love them with you too !

i love you. i love you right? it's not infatuation,it's not obsession !

i love it when you smile for me, because of me - i love to be your source of happiness!

just be mine, please. when you crush on anyone apart from me,i feel -- i just don't feel good,even if it's a celeb.

[ loves,i don't know how you feel about this pile - but for some of you, i feel you're attracting a very possessive lover/fs - if that's the case,and you don't feel good about this pile- please don't worry since this is the future you're attracting at the moment - change your energy and be a little more positive to attract a better future and partner / you don't need to end up with such an individual if you don't want to - however,if you're fine with the possessiveness,then no prob! ]

ꕤ PILE 6

we're soulmates,yes we are.

do you know how much i had to think over before approaching you? why are you always soo - soo intimidating y'know lol

we're opposite poles of magnets. two parts of a heart - we fit perfectly.

listening to music together soothes me..

i can be a little workaholic but trust me sweetheart, whenever i get time - i rush to you,for you. i just want to build the most stable future for us. I see you in my future..

i'm a little inexperienced in relationships - they never excited me until you came in the picture..

i do whatever i can for you, but if something still bothers you - please,tell me. i don't mind you telling me what i can do better.

love me forever.

i'm all yours,love. the good and the bad. just like the raw ..

i'm scared that our families won't accept us but, no matter what,i'm with you. we'll work through this - you just work on yourself right now, don't stress out. we'll be with each other,as soon as the universe thinks it's time

#planetsxmore #pac reading #pick a card #future spouse #future lover #free tarot readings #pac #tarot #tarotcommunity #tarotblr #intuitive readings

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blueywrites · 1 year

Text

turtle dove and the crow, part three

A 1940s Farm AU, featuring bsf!neighbor!eddie x fem!reader

story tags: 18+ (minors dni). smut; true love; unexpected pregnancy; angst, angst, angst; parental issues; corporal punishment; scheming, plotting, and betrayal; hurt/comfort; period-typical stigma regarding unwed pregnancy; angst with a happy ending.

chapter tags: 18+. p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex, angst, hurt/comfort.

(I have not edited this yet, so please excuse any editing mistakes!)

PART THREE: WOLF LIKE ME (12.7K)

Feel me, completer

Down to my core

Open my heart

And let it bleed onto yours

Feedin' on fever

Down on all fours

Show you what all that howlin's for

Wolf Like Me - Lera Lynn ft. Shovels & Rope

Deep in the field, two roosts sit side by side. One is built of sturdy, weathered wood painted the color of bright red berries, with deep-set windows and a dark sloping roof that protects it from the elements. The other is made of wide symmetrical clapboards painted blue like the sky on a cloudless day, with knotted-oak shutters slightly worn from the sun and wind and bright white trim that shines in the eager summer light. They are separated only by a tall fence and a stump rotted through to the other side, through which the grasses of their yards mingle to become one.

These roosts house different birds. One is a trio of turtle doves, a mated pair with a young hen still soft and brown-gray, though her iridescence is maturing now, subduing into adulthood. The other is a pair of long-bonded crows, though the younger spent its fledgling years in the care of another, who pecked and prodded and stole his sustenance until the young one fluttered finally away, seeking to shelter under the safe wing of his older kin.

They may bear different feathers— one downy gray, one glossy black— but if one were to peep through the windows, one would see these young birds and note how similar they appear right now as they preen. Both turtle dove and crow are drawing their beaks along each feather to clear away the dust, fluttering out their wings in great stretches, and hopping about the expanse of their rooms, caught in restless preparation as the grandfather clock ticks its hand toward seven.

The turtle dove adorns herself for the crow. She dresses in her Independence Day best, twisting to watch the ankle-length skirt swirl around her legs in swaths of dainty yellow gingham. She dances her fingertips along the hand-sewn embroidery that decorates the square neckline, feeling along the tiny white flowers and vines for the perfect spot. There, she pins two sprigs— one lavender, one jasmine— to nestle amongst the white threads she’d sewn with careful fingers, her first attempt at embellishing her clothing, ventured to celebrate the holiday in mid-July. With a careful hand, she ties a bow of white silk to the side of her head. Now smelling of flowers and gilded in homespun sunshine, she has finished her preparations.

The crow, meanwhile, focuses less on his adornments. He doesn’t possess his own Independence Day best; instead, he dresses in a collared, button-up shirt oft worn, paired with navy blue woolen slacks and a leather belt with a simple buckle. But he made sure to scrub his skin with soap 'til it shone pink over every inch of him— between his toes, behind his ears, on the backs of his knees and the nape of his neck. He has brushed out his hair and tamed the flyaways with pomade, twining the curls around his rough fingers to let them drop into careful coils, working with a delicacy that he feels near-embarrassed about despite not having been observed. Carefully, he picks the dirt from beneath his fingernails and trims them short and neat, though he’d been waylaid momentarily by regretful ruminations on the roughness of his palms. He swipes his thumbs impatiently along the callouses that cannot be softened with warm bathwater as if he might rub them away before giving up and brushing his teeth for the second time instead.

With one last ruffle of feathers and a careful appraisal in the mirror, crow and turtle dove descend their staircases in tandem at five to seven, filled with the flutterings of nervous, jittery excitement that precede such an occasion as this.

When you reach the bottom of the stairs, Mama and Pa are already loitering there; you hurry down the last few steps, swinging around with a hand on the banister to fling yourself toward the kitchen and avoid keeping them waiting too much longer. The pie you’d baked with apples from the tree out back is still wafting steam from its golden, flaky crust, but when you test the glass dish with a little pat of your fingertips, you find it’s cool enough to snatch up with a handtowel plucked from the towelbar beneath the sink. Carefully, you carry it back to your parents, stealing a quick glance at their faces as you group together with them. They’ve dressed nicely— though not quite as fussily as you— and their faces hold the same impassive pleasantness that had been there yesterday when the occasion had been proposed to them by the wild-haired boy next door.

He’d stood in his muddy boots on the bristly mat, so adamant in his refusal to tell you what the matter was until your parents joined you that you’d had half a mind to think that something terribly grave had occurred. Your worry gave way to confusion once they arrived and Eddie, with uncharacteristic formality, extended an invitation to dinner at the Munson house for seven o’clock the following day.

Though his delivery was strange, the whole thing was no cause for alarm because you and your family had dined with Wayne at least once each season since before you could remember. But when your parents accepted politely, and Eddie looked then to you, his eyes held a promise unspoken in their umber depths. They were lightened to honey in the sunshine, glossy yet still deep and dark like a pool of rippling water. You had an inkling of what might set this occasion apart from others previous, but you barely dared to think it lest you be disappointed. Still, even without that certainty, you’d taken the time to dress your best, to rouge your cheeks and lips, and set your hair more carefully than usual, just in case that inkling came to pass. And you’d insisted on baking an apple pie to bring over for dessert, prepared to fight had your mother put up any protest, which she had not.

The walk across the grass to the house side by side with yours has never felt so long as it does today. The August air is heavy but dry from the day's heat, wafting with woodsmoke and ablaze with the rhythmic chirping of crickets that are emerging, drawn by the deepening light. And it feels laden with something else, too, as you crunch along the gravel path that connects the front of your property with the Munsons’. Perhaps it’s the promise you think you saw in Eddie’s eyes that wisps along the breeze, ruffling the leaves of the oak trees that stand tall and proud behind that red house. Or perhaps it’s your own unspoken revelation, the one that bloomed in the goat pen those days ago, filling your lungs to swell anew behind your ribs. The heaviness of that unknowable quality makes the walk to Eddie’s house feel long, but it is, in fact, over with quite quickly.

He does live just next door, after all.

You carry your sweet offering up to his porch with eyes fixed on the sturdy, weather-beaten door. There you pause to wait for your parents, and when they join you, your mother raps the doorframe smartly with unhesitant knuckles. They flank you like sentinels as you wait, lips pursing at the faint ruckus you hear behind that thick wood. It’s Ed thumpin’ down the stairs, no doubt, you figure, and your supposition is proven correct when just a moment later the door flies open, quick at first before being slowed with a jerk to a more respectable speed.

You can’t pretend to have chosen the dress you’re wearing for any other reason than the fact he’d mentioned it that day at the creek, but the way Eddie’s face goes slack— the way his dark brows melt into softness and his plush lips part just slightly as he marvels at the sight of you— makes it difficult to keep your composure in front of your parents. As does the sight of Eddie himself. Mama and Pa fade at the sight of him, and you can’t help but pause a moment to take him in, your eyes fluttering over his features like a gentle brush of wings.

Eddie’s curls, dark and rich like wood stain, look as soft and shiny as liquid silk where they spill over his shoulders, and your fingers twitch with longing as you imagine drawing them through those coils. His skin is radiant, scrubbed noticeably clean, and its paleness makes his freckles stand out stark in contrast, like a dusting of spicy cinnamon across the bridge of his nose. He’s rolled his buttoned shirt up to the elbow, revealing strong forearms and broad, rough-hewn hands that are scrambling now to unburden you from the dessert you’d prepared.

You allow him to take it, offering a grateful smile. He returns it before ducking to the side to peer around you. “Evenin’, sir. Ma’am.” Eddie greets your Mama and your Pa almost reservedly, and the absence of his typical manic edge or teasing rasp feels odd but also makes a strange thrill thrum in your belly. He explains, “My uncle’s occupied there in the kitchen; dinner’s about finished. Just gotta set the table,” he adds, almost to himself, and you hasten to offer your assistance.

With just a hint of too much sweetness for comfort, you tell Eddie, “I can help you if you like.”

“Thank you.” Eddie’s cheek dimples in a soft, crooked smile. “And for the pie.”

You wave off his regard to keep your cheeks from pinking. “S’nothin.”

You’ve been inside Wayne Munson’s house on occasion since you were small, as have your parents, but Eddie still leads you along the wide worn floorboards and through the archway into the sitting room. This room is as it always is: green paint faded from the westward setting sun on the far wall, Wayne’s sagging armchair nestled in the corner, a hand-hewn coffee table and the striped couch with the crochet blanket draped over its back in a cascade of the merry yellows and oranges you know Wayne is partial to on account of the sunflowers. There’s a pair of eyeglasses on the side table near the armchair atop a magazine that is clearly Wayne’s, but the boot poking from half-beneath it, strewn carelessly as if it had been kicked off in a hurry, is clearly not. A faint smile crosses your face as you spot it, though your father’s loud clomping footsteps draw your attention soon enough. The sizzling of the stove is overtaken by your father’s friendly shout as forges ahead to the kitchen; the gruff warmth of two men greeting one another accompanies you as you cross the living room to join Eddie in the dining room.

You become mindful of what you’d offered when you see him clearing the runner and the simple centerpiece from the dining table, which dominates the middle of the room despite the tall hutch standing broad against the far wall. You hasten to help him, hovering nearby as he pulls open the hutch drawer. You catch your mother eying the dust on the ridge lining the hutch and prepare yourself for some remark on the matter, but in the end, she doesn’t comment. Instead, she merely watches you and Eddie futz with the silverware for a moment before leaving you to your work to survey the goings-on in the kitchen. You hear the conversation between the two men stall when she enters before continuing, making room for the new addition.

Eddie squats to retrieve the plates as you set out the placemats, lining them with spoons and knives side-by-side and forks placed carefully across from them, with space to nestle the plates in-between. You circle the table methodically, dropping piece after piece on your path as Eddie rotates in the other direction, crossing your path almost as seamlessly as if this is a practiced dance. It’s not something you’ve ever done together— meals typically don’t stand on such ceremony as this, and Eddie certainly doesn’t usually fold the linen napkins into careful squares before dropping them onto the white ceramic. But as you watch him nudge the fabric with the tip of his finger to straighten its crooked lines, his tongue tip peeking pink between his lips as he does, the chore feels distinctly domestic to you, like something that has happened dozens of times before and will continue again for countless more. That sudden uncanny inkling mixes with the feeling that swells up sometimes behind your ribs, which resurges when Eddie sidles up next to you and bumps you lightly out of the way with his hip.

“Watch it, you,” he pretends to grouse, lips quirking as he drops the napkin square onto the final plate with a flourish. “M’tryn’a set the table here.”

“Oh, and I’m not?” you retort hotly, but when he pinches your waist quick and playful, you can’t help the giggle that squeals its way from your throat. He dances back from your jabbing finger aimed at his side, curls bouncing as his face lights with a smile. Not to be deterred, you snatch up the napkin he’d just put down, and as it unravels from its square to prepare to strike him across the ribs, the familiar gravel of a throat being cleared— aged and croaky with years of tobacco use— has you spinning on your heel and hiding the evidence of your childishness behind your back.

The sight of Eddie’s uncle is wholly more welcome than your own Pa at the moment, though you still want to squirm as he regards you with a squint and a quirked brow. “Hello, Wayne!” you say brightly. You’re fooling no one; it’s an obvious attempt to distract him as you plop the napkin back onto the plate, letting it drop behind your back.

“Hello, y/n. It’s nice to see you.” Wayne doesn’t react as Eddie reaches slowly around you to fiddle the napkin back into a semblance of orderliness, though you swear his blue eyes— so different from Eddie’s in color but so alike in their expressiveness— are twinkling now as he carries the plate of fried pork chops to the table, setting them carefully down.

“Thanks for having us over for dinner,” you say, clasping your hands demurely in front of your lap. “It’s very kind of you.”

Wayne rasps a chuckle as he straightens, clapping a heavy hand on Eddie’s shoulder briefly before moving with characteristic creakiness toward the kitchen. “No need to thank me; it was all Ed,” he offers offhandedly before disappearing, unaware of how the comment stirs the hope within you to sweet and tender life.

The meal shared with your neighbors is pleasant. More than pleasant, in fact. The pork chops are crispy but tender, yielding easily to your knife; the sweet juice of the fresh corn snaps between your teeth as you bite into the cob, and the sliced tomatoes are buttery smooth and perfectly ripe. Wayne is seated to your right at the head of the table with your father beside you on the left, and you spend the majority of the meal eating and listening rather than speaking, more than content to let them bookend you with their familiar voices made more fervent in the company of friendly company not often seen. Eddie is seated across from you, and when you aren’t listening to the patriarchs reminisce about the drought of ‘36 and lament the inconvenience they’re suffering as a bridge repair forces them to travel in some roundabout way, you’re watching Eddie eat. You’re staring at him with a level of fascination that is almost unnerving, made clear as his brow furrows slightly when he catches your eyes fixed so firmly on him.

But you’re staring because it’s strange, the way he’s eating. You’ve seen Eddie eat many times, and he always does it with a certain disregard for common manners: borderline too-ambitious bites, mouth open more than it’s closed, fingers sucked of grease, crumbs everywhere. Yet, not so tonight. Tonight, every slice is cut to a reasonable size; every bite is measured and chewed thoughtfully; every swallow occurs before he speaks again. And Eddie is even using his napkin. It’s laid across his lap and, miraculously, lifted to his mouth every once in a while to neaten the corners of those plush pink lips before being replaced just as carefully

The empty space where that napkin is usually balled to the side of his empty plate is not the most uncanny thing, though. What is the most uncanny thing is the way your mother is actively engaging him in conversation about the 4H fair next month. Eddie tells her he plans to enter Merlin as a showhorse, and she nods across to you, donning a soft smile as she says, “Y/n’s really been makin’ strides with her embroidery ahead of the showin’. I think she’ll be ready.”

“She’s gettin’ real good, from what I’ve seen,” Eddie agrees eagerly, bobbing his head maybe a little too wildly. “Did she show you the hoop she’s makin’ for my uncle? The one with our family name in the middle?”

“I think so…” Mama’s head tips as she considers it. “That the one that has sunflowers on it?”

“And chicory flowers, too,” you pipe up, meeting Eddie’s umber eyes across the broad table, watching them soften to honey. Your Mama makes a sound of recognition and keeps talking, and while Eddie nods, replying politely, his gaze doesn’t stray from yours.

When bellies have been filled, and plates have been cleaned of all but the tiniest crumbs, you decide as a group to retire to the living room before indulging in dessert. Your hosts lead the way, and Wayne takes his customary place in his well-worn armchair, sinking down with a bone-weary sigh borne partly of creaking joints and partly of a belly swollen by overindulgence.

Your mother hovers near the archway, surveying the seating options demurely until Wayne notices and waves her easily toward the couch. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Ed’ll park his seat on the floor, won’t you, son?”

“Oh,” she protests politely, “I’m sure we don’t mind—”

But Eddie has already flopped himself down in front of the hearth, leaning back on the heels of his palms and stretching his lanky legs toward the coffee table, perfectly content. As his foot bobs back in an easy rhythm, Mama’s eyes dart to the hole in the bottom of his sock near the toes, the way the white thread is worn gray and threadbare on the balls and the heel. Quick as a flash, they dart away again as Pa encourages her forward with a hand at the small of her back. Together they take the couch, your mother perching on the edge with her ankles crossed and your father sinking back into the cushions, leaning one elbow comfortably against the arm and letting out his own sigh to match Wayne’s.

You’re about to join Eddie on the floor when you notice, peeking from the corner of the long hall leading toward the back of the house, curves of spruce that beckon your excitement.

“Oh!” You make a sound not unlike your mother’s, though yours is borne of exuberance as you pick your way around Eddie’s legs. He grunts a light protest as you plant a palm atop his head to steady yourself while stepping over him, but you ignore it in favor of plucking the instrument from its hiding place, brandishing it in the air with wide eyes and a broad grin. “Look, Ed, it’s your guitar!”

“Yes,” he says, half wry as you toddle towards him, awkward and unwieldy in your inexperience carrying it. “That’d be my guitar, all right. Why, aren’t you the clever one.”

Your reply is quick and entirely cheerful. “You shush y’r mouth, Eddie Munson,” you say easily, depositing the guitar in his lap and taking a seat cross-legged beside him. In your peripheral, you can see Wayne leaning back in his chair, surveying you as his fingers stroke his grizzled beard, but your eyes are all for the man with wild curls and a teasing grin that stretches his plush pink lips as he glances over at you. “I was thinkin’ y’could play us some songs to pass the time before dessert.”

Eddie sighs beleagueredly, tipping his head back even while already lifting the guitar strap over his shoulders. “What next? Y’gonna ask me to sing too?” He slants another glance at you, chuckling as your eyes light up even further. You clutch his wrist, shaking lightly, only faltering slightly when you notice how hot and smooth his skin is underneath your fingers. The awareness tingles within you, and you snatch your hand back.

You play it off with characteristic banter. “D’you want some o’my apple pie?” you question him, quirking your eyebrows in challenge.

Eddie purses his lips, not quite pouting but close to it. “...Yes,” he replies, and you jerk your chin toward the guitar.

“Then get to singin’, mister,” you say hotly, though you can’t help but smile when Eddie pretends to clutch his heart and sway back as if wounded by your demands. A disapproving tut draws your eyes, and they widen when you see Mama’s narrow. She’s clucking her tongue in a way that means she is dissatisfied with your attitude and wants you to know it.

Your spine straightens under her silent gaze, and a prickle of shame needles across your shoulders as you clasp your hands in your lap. You look back at her contritely until she finally glances away; if anyone else notices the nonverbal exchange, they don’t let on, and the shame fades as Eddie begins to pluck the first few notes of the song he’s chosen to begin with.

Your mother’s reproach is quickly forgotten as Eddie’s warm rasp fills the room to accompany the twang of the guitar’s strings. The sound is untrained, yet melodic and pleasant nonetheless as he sings, “Well, they tell me, my dear, that you’re going; I will miss your bright eyes and your smile. For with you, you are taking the sunshine that has brightened my life for a while.”

Red River Valley wouldn’t have been your first choice of song for the occasion, though you must admit that Eddie sounds quite nice singing it. And it’s pleasant to watch him play, too: his long lashes dust the pale of his cheeks as he looks down at his fingerwork, and your gaze slides down the slope of his nose to the soft end, then down to the valley between nose and lip, then finally to the pink of his full lips as they form the words. “I have waited a long time my darling for those words that you never would say” A lock of curls behind his ear slips to drape over his cheek, and though your fingers itch to tuck it back for him again, you force them still in your lap. “And alas now my poor heart is breaking for they tell me you’re going away.”

Eddie repeats the chorus one last time and ends with a flourish of strumming, a smile stretching his cheeks wide as your Mama claps politely and her eyes wrinkle pleasedly. Your father is less enthusiastic, though he does nod absently when he sees you looking at him imploringly. “S’pretty good,” he offers, and Eddie accepts it graciously, resetting his fingers on the frets to regale you with some improvised playing.

He is quiet for a while as he plays, brow furrowed in concentration as he weaves chords and notes into a tapestry of story, not unlike the tales he’s long invented for you since you were merely children playing in the mud. You marvel for a moment at the fact that those broad hands, so rough and worn from labor, are able to create such sweet and delicate sound; you watch his long fingers dance along the frets, the way their strong calluses catch the strings and make them cry out in joyful feeling. His playing is unhurried and peaceful, but watching Eddie fills you with a thrumming sort of happiness that makes you want to join in— something you’ve never done before despite the many times you’ve heard him play.

That feeling bubbles over as his song eases into a brief silence, and you take the opportunity to ask if you can make a request. Eddie’s brows jerk in surprise for only a moment before he’s nodding quickly, perhaps a little too wild in his effort to encourage you. And though he rolls his eyes lightly when you tell him what you want, a smile still tugs at the corner of his lips as he begins a tune more jaunty and sentimental than the one he’d been playing.

You watch as he plays the introduction, waiting for his eyes to flash to yours promptingly before you begin to sing. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray.” Your voice is not as practiced as Eddie’s— though his is barely so— but it is clear of tone and gains steadiness as you continue, “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you; please don’t take my sunshine away.”

It becomes clear as you begin to sing this song why people sing songs. Which may seem an odd revelation in and of itself, but it’s something that you’ve just… never really done before. You may hum a tune to yourself as you complete your chores, or warble along with the record player, but that’s not the same as letting your own voice be the one to take the place of silence, to fill a room so full that you cannot be ignored. There is something vulnerable about that choice, and you feel that vulnerability in the itch at the base of your throat, where your skin is heating with the awareness that everyone can hear every crack or falter in your pitch. But as you sing the words out, emboldened by Eddie’s confident playing, you realize there’s a kind of wild disregard for perfection in the act, an impulsive freedom that feels very much like joy. And you see that joy echoed on Eddie’s face when he accompanies you for the final verse, his warm brashness husking up the clearness of yours in a way that sounds, not just good, but right.

Another smattering of applause follows your performance, and you bask in it; your knee seeks the side of Eddie’s thigh, resting there lightly, and though you don’t glance down at it for fear of drawing too much attention, just knowing that he is warm, and solid, and connected to a small part of you makes happiness perch high in your heart.

“If I could make a request.”

All eyes turn to Mama, who has now sunk back against the couch, not quite leaning against your father’s side but close to it. “How about ‘John the Rabbit?’ Used to sing that t’you when you were little. D’you remember that?”

Mama’s voice is just the same as it always is— even when it’s calm, the urgency of ‘get this done, knock it off, do this, not that’ is never quite gone. But her expression is buttery soft now as she gazes at you, and as you relax under its comforting weight, your body sags subtly toward the man sitting at your side. “Sure I do,” you tell her, “used to sing it to me in the mornin’, and that’s how I knew we were gonna tend the garden that day.”

Mama hums, beckoning you gently with her chin. “Why don’t you lead us in a round, hm?” She casts glances around at the men, adding, “All you gotta do is say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’”

“‘Til the last line,” you pipe up, “then y’say, ‘No, ma’am.’”

Wayne chuckles, rubbing his palms along his worn blue jeans. “I reckon we can handle it,” he assures her in his slow way, and with that, Eddie strums a simple tune fitting of a nursery school rhyme.

You sing sweetly, “Oh, John the rabbit—”

“Yes, ma’am,” the rest call, and you smile through the next line:

“Got a mighty habit—”

“Yes’ ma’am.”

“Jumpin’ in my garden—” you pause for the others, who oblige you readily, before continuing, “Cuttin’ down my cabbage…” and yielding them the floor.

The leader is meant to draw out the next line, to twang the words at the end, and you sway in your seat as you faithfully follow. “My sweet potatoes,” you croon at Eddie, and he leans toward you as he answers louder than the rest,

“Yes ma’am!”

With each successive line, the delight inside you grows, and it echoes through the room, repeated on every face— man and woman, young and old.

“And if I live… to see next fall… I ain’t gonna have… no garden at all—” You heave a great breath, grinning as you throw your head back and chorus with the others,

“No… ma’am!”

Eddie strums hard and quick to end the song, and your giggle is joined by Wayne’s thick chuckle, and your mother’s polite humming, and your father’s hoarse bark of amusement. And when Eddie throaty, husky chuckles swallow up them all beside you, you think if you could bottle up this sound and keep it forever, you would. You certainly would.

When you return to the dining room, taking your seat beside your father, the air that fills the red roost is thick with the sweetness of shared company, almost enough to rival the flaky pie you’re all indulging in. It’s not the finest you’ve ever tasted, but it’s with a sense of pride that you watch the others enjoy it. Pa is gesturing widely with his fork as he discusses autumn arrangements with Wayne, how they might coordinate their harvests of hay and corn for mutual benefit. Mama is scooping up each bite slowly and chewing thoroughly, which you know means she is stalling to keep herself from devouring the whole thing in one fell swoop. Wayne is already on his second slice despite protesting, when he’d initially been served, that he couldn’t eat another bite. And Eddie…

Well, Eddie has eaten half his pie already, but in the last handful of minutes he’s been pushing the remainder around on his fork— not disinterestedly, as if he doesn’t enjoy it, but with a sort of jerkiness to the motions that belys some tension within him. You have half a mind to ask him what’s bothering him, but you don’t want to embarrass him in front of company. You bury down the tinge of worry, which is what must be kicking up your heart, what must account for the sudden tightness in your own chest, though it feels more akin to anticipation.

So you eat your pie, and listen to your father, and glance back and forth between Mama and Eddie until the latter finally sets his fork down with a clink that somehow, despite the lack of force, cuts straight through the conversation between Wayne and Pa. It lapses into silence, and your heart pounds harder as you watch a pink tongue swipe at plush lips and an adam’s apple bob in a pale throat before the brash voice of your best friend fills the void.

“Sir,” Eddie says, looking at your father, and a lump grows in your throat as the word wavers just slightly before recovering. “I hope it’s all right, me speaking out of turn, but… there’s something I need to say to you.”

There is a brief pause as all eyes turn to your Pa. He draws his napkin over his lips, and its drag smooths the severe lines around his mouth for just a moment before they spring back up again into place. “S’your house,” your father replies, not unkindly.

Eddie’s eyes dart to Wayne for just a second, and you follow them to see the older man gazing back calmly. When they return to your Pa, Eddie lifts his chin, keeping his gaze and voice steady. “We’ve lived next door to each other for just about ten years now. And in that time, I’ve gotten to know your family well, and you’ve gotten to know mine.” His throat bobs as he pauses. “Y/n and I grown up alongside each other, and maybe my opinion don’t matter all that much in the scheme of things, but I tell you humbly that, well, I think you both done a mighty fine job raisin’ her.”

Eddie looks at your mother beside him, who offers him a slight nod, but he doesn’t look at you. And good thing, too, because that feeling is swelling up to fill your throat so hot and thick, it’s all you can do to keep your chin from trembling. “I know y’don’t need me to tell you this,” Eddie huffs a breathless chuckle, “y’already know how good she is. But I think it warrants bein’ said that there’s somethin’ about y/n that’s special.” His chest expands with a bracing breath, and in that pause, you see it all in Eddie’s umber eyes. In the line of his brow, the gentle slope of his nose, the light flush of his cheeks, the strength of his jaw— all that he could ever say is there, written plain as day across his beloved face.

“Special to me, s’what I’m saying,” he clarifies, and the way his brow furrows just slightly in the middle— tugged up into an expression of sweet earnestness— has your heart beating so wild and fast you think it might leap out of your chest and into the cradle of his arms.

“Sir,” Eddie says, “I really care about your daughter, and I would like to ask your permission to court her.”

It’s what you hadn’t allowed yourself to hope for when you’d taken out the Fourth of July dress and adorned yourself in sprigs of lavender and rosemary. It’s what shone through Eddie’s eager smile when he opened the door to his home with his face scrubbed clean, waiting there for you. It’s the promise of forever stretched out over the expanse of a wooden dining table, where napkins were carefully folded into squares and pies were baked with fresh apples from the tree outside. Small acts of service committed by two sets of hands, each trailing love like fairy dust in their wake.

Pa clears his throat— not a sharp sound, more of a rumble of consideration as he leans back in his chair, gazing at Mama across from him. He nods his head slowly, thoughtfully, a gradual bobbing that continues as his tongue runs over his teeth behind his lips. It ends with a jerking of his brows and the smack of his lips opening as he replies,

“I appreciate your words, Edward, they’re very kind. But, no.” His eyes hold Eddie’s steadily. “I do not give you permission to court my daughter.”

Your father doesn’t yell. He doesn’t even sound particularly bothered. And yet the pall that settles over the Munson’s dinner table is so oppressive that you feel your shoulders sink under the palpable weight of the silence following his denial. That heaviness drags like a rotten hand down the back of your neck; it melts to viscous ooze, seeping over your clavicle, sinking through your gingham dress and coating the swelling behind your ribs in suffocating shock.

Distantly, you hear Wayne stiffly ask your parents to accompany him into the living room. You feel your father’s chair scrape out beside you; you want to glance at your Mama’s face, but your eyes are stuck to the flakes of crust and the crystals of sugar dotting the linen napkin laid beside your plate.

It isn’t until you’re alone with Eddie that the heaviness sloughs off of you to slap like dead meat to the floor. Then you can raise your head and meet the umber eyes of the man who sits across from you, motionless and hollow.

As soon as you see the expression on his face, the feeling shifts in you; with an impatient jerk of your chair, you stand to crane over the table and take up his cheeks in your hands. His head is heavy, his neck loose and pliant, and you hold him steady as you speak quietly and intently.

“Okay, look, Ed—” You take a shuddering breath, letting it out through your nose, and it ruffles the soft curls that frame his jaw as he looks back at you blankly. You continue in an urgent whisper, “Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’ll put up a bit of a fuss, of course, but if I fight ‘em too hard, they’ll look at me cross, and we won’t get nowhere. By all appearances, we should look like we accept their decision, all right? That’ll buy us time to figure out what to do.”

Eddie doesn’t react, really; nothing much on his face changes. But you know him too well, so you can see the subtle shifting there, how the dullness in his umber eyes edges into mournfulness. Defeat.

Your heart cracks.

His name whispers through your quivering lips. “Eddie…” Your eyes prick for him, for all the effort he put into making this night so perfect, and how it now had gone all sideways on him. On you both.

You don’t think much about what you do next. It’s instinct when you surge forward to kiss him hard, pressing your lips to his with all the fervency and yearning and love that swells within your body. Your heart thumps when you feel him respond, when his lips pucker and seek yours, when his trembling fingertips draw lightly down your cheek.

There is urgency and danger here in the dining room, but you hold the kiss as long as you can before your lungs begin to burn. When you pull away, gasping for breath, Eddie now looks more dazed than sad, and it both reassures you and feeds your fire.

“I don’t give a hoot what they say,” you whisper fiercely. “I wanna be with you, Ed. We been good at sneakin’ around before, and we can do it now, too.” You search his eyes, panging with hesitation for the first time as you scrape your teeth across your teeth before blurting, “I don’t wanna stop seein’ you. Do… do you wanna stop seein’ me, now that this’s happened?”

Eddie huffs— a small warm puff of breath that ghosts across your lips— and it’s wry and unbelieving but so incredibly soft. “‘Y/n.” His voice is a gentle rumble in his chest, earnest and hoarse. “Now that I had a chance to know you the way we know each other, I think it’d kill me dead to go back to how it was before. I could barely keep it together then. Can’t imagine doin’ it now that I’ve had you underneath me.” You shiver at the hot promise in his eyes. “‘Sides,” he adds, “I—”

The merciful floorboards warn you of the imminent return of your parents, and you fall back into your chair just in time to appear innocent as they reenter the dining room.

“Well!” Your father sighs the word in that tone people only use when closing something out— a conversation, a get-together, an engagement. You think he will continue, that he will turn to Eddie and perhaps offer an explanation, but that single word just lingers in the pause until your mother jumps in.

“Thank you for dinner, Wayne. Eddie,” Mama says politely, and Eddie manages to bob his head in a single nod to acknowledge her. Wayne has far more composure, accepting her thanks and exchanging a polite word about the next dinner.

Your father shakes Wayne’s hand firmly and then beckons you with a jerk of his head. “C’mon, missy, let’s leave ‘em to their evenin’.”

It would be odd if it weren’t that you understood what must have happened in the living room— that your father had explained his decision to Wayne, and that they’d managed to come out the other side maintaining, at the very least, a level of friendliness befitting neighbors.

So you follow suit; with as much decorum as you can muster, you rise primly and thank Wayne, casting one last glance at Eddie before you depart the red roost of the crows.

You wait until you’re back inside your own roost and your front door has closed behind you to turn on them, brow knit tight with righteous indignation. “Why did you deny Eddie, Pa?” you demand. “What’s wrong with him courtin’ me?” You can’t quite keep the heat from your voice; the outrage bubbling beneath the surface is too fresh, too hot as you remember Eddie’s beloved umber eyes, how the light in them dimmed.

Your father does not quail at your display; if anything, he grows taller, raising his chin and regarding you down the bridge of his nose. “Y/n, I’ve been acquainted with Edward for damn near ten years now, and in that time, he has proved himself time after time to be frivolous and uncouth. That boy is entirely lacking in discipline.” In a rare display of restraint, your father does not raise his voice at you in the privacy of your home. Yet he is no less hardened for it; his words fall like heavy stones before your feet. “Edward is downright wild. Your mother and I have let you indulge in this little friendship with him, above all, on account of our respect for Wayne. But he is not the kind of young man I want courtin' my only unwed daughter.”

You could tell them that Eddie’s wildness is what fuels his heart, what makes him so passionate and imaginative and enchanting. You could tell them that he bought you a ribbon and scrubbed his nails clean, that he takes you to wildflower fields because he knows you like them and invents stories to make you happy. You could tell them that you love him, that you always have, that when you envision what your life will be like with your own house and garden, you can’t see anyone but Eddie Munson by your side.

Yet you fear to voice these things, to breathe life into them and then have them butchered just as quickly at your father’s hand. You glance at your mother, but her face is an impassive mask; you know appealing to her will get you nowhere, so you latch to the only thing you can think of. Despite telling Eddie that you will not fight hard for him since that will only make things more difficult, you find yourself unable to resist.

“But Pa,” you try for earnestness, “Ed is disciplined, don’t you see? Think of all he’s done for us ‘round the house, and with the fence and the kid. I think he’s been tryin’ so hard this past week to show you how serious he is about m—”

A curled lip is all the warning you get before being interrupted. “Never trust a man who acts just because he wants somethin’.” Your father finally snaps; his voice booms in the space between you. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what he done or how he acted this week. It don’t erase a lifetime of evidence to the contrary.”

And you know by the way your Pa’s severe face has petrified into the hardest stone, echoed though less harshly in the wrinkles that line your mother’s eyes, that their decision cannot be budged.

Edward Munson cannot court you, and that is that.

But the fact is, you don’t need Eddie Munson to court you. You’re already his, and you give yourself to him as such.

When you wake the next morning, it appears to your parents as if your ire from the night before was nothing but a feverish dream. You slink around the house with your tail held high, coy as a barnyard cat as you dine with them at the breakfast table, making amiable conversation with your Pa and complimenting your Mama’s cooking without a hint of sourness. You complete your chores without complaining— well, without any more complaining than is typical of you. You sew the buttons on your Mama’s dress with the utmost considerateness and drop kisses on your father’s cheek each night before retiring to bed. This awards you certain freedoms, freedoms that you certainly wouldn’t be gifted had you carried on about their rejection of Eddie the way you truly wanted to deep in your heart.

You keep it buried— the indignance, the sorrow, the swelling you feel when you catch glimpses of him through the cracks in the fence. You cover it in pleasantness and obeisance so that they won’t suspect, and when you visit the stump rotted through to the middle and find the papers wedged inside, you exercise the privileges you’ve won through subterfuge.

“Nancy asked me to walk with her into town. She wants me to come with her to the dressmakers, so it might take a little while if that’s all right?” You ask your Pa as he’s repairing the sagging barn door, and his hammering pauses only long enough to tell you not to spend any frivolous money there.

It’s quite easy to agree when you have no real intention of setting foot in the dressmaker’s shop.

Instead, you dip off the road and trail across the far edge of the Wheelers’ field, picking through a copse of trees to access the adjacent clearing that grows wild and unkempt. There, you find a patch of clear earth, and now, you are dropping to your knees to gather your skirt up around your hips. You arch your back shamelessly to expose yourself, presenting your pussy like a cat in heat to the man behind you. When you feel his broad hands ruck your skirt up higher, you press your palms to the earth and dip your cheek to the ground, just waiting to be mounted. When Eddie notches his fat head against your entrance, you teethe the plush of your bottom lip. He presses steadily forward until he pops inside, stretching you tight around his girth, and when you mewl, he hisses in response. In one long stroke— a motion quick and trembling like the tautness of a bowstring, as if he can no longer hold himself back now that he has notched inside you— Eddie presses his hips up tight against your ass and groans out his relief at your joining. His relief echoes your own, manifest in the way your body goes lax: chin dipping to take its rest, shoulders sagging as your breasts mold to the unyielding ground, fingers drawing through strands of green as if yearning for dark coils of ink but settling for second best. Eddie sleeves himself within the wet warmth that welcomes him, and your muscles yawn a sigh of relief even as you flutter and squeeze around that which splits you open.

There, in the dirt and grass, you give yourself to Eddie on your hands and knees. Your face grazes the earth as you let him pound into you from behind, let him grip your hips and claim you with the little imprints of his fingers that he squeezes into your skin. You and Eddie have done gentle; you know what it is to lie with him on the creekbed or in the wildflowers, where time seemed to stretch and bend, and every moment could be savored. But not so now, when the only occasions you can see one another are in moments stolen through lies and trickery. Now, your need for Eddie is dirty and ravenous. You take what he gives you, and you give freely for him to take in return. Each whimper and grunt, each harsh slap of skin against skin, each wet shlick of his cock sheathing in your eager heat sounds to you like a triumphant cry of defiance.

A wicked seed within you relishes in the fantasy of your parents seeing what you are allowing frivolous, uncouth Eddie Munson to do to you. You know your Mama would be scandalized— her eyes would pop out of her head. You know your Pa would be furious— his face would go purple with rage. They refused to allow Eddie to court you, and yet here he is, fucking into you with abandon as you whimper and tremble for him. And you like it; you like the way he spears you roughly with his cock, the way your ass bounces lewdly against his hips, the way your belly tightens with sinful pleasure as he plunges deep and holds himself there, pressing hard to grind himself inside you. Your walls flutter and squeeze around him as you circle your hips, seeking for something more. You angle and work yourself on his length until you jolt, having suddenly found what you sought. That feeling sparks like wicked fire, burning low inside you each time he grazes against that elusive spot inside, and oh, how you like it.

"Please, harder, Eddie," you beg him, whimpering into the earth. "Please— you feel so good."

“Fuuuck,” Eddie groans, and the hoarse husk makes you shiver with pleasure. "Your pussy’s so sweet. So fuckin' tight and sweet for me, turtle dove. Fuckin’ love being inside your little pussy."

You moan, long and low, rocking back to meet him as he starts to thrust again, hard and fast. You've learned that Eddie has a filthy mouth, and each dirty word that drips from his sinful lips is both so mortifying and so arousing at the same time. As his fingers tighten on your hips, and his breath harshens into desperate pants, urgency fills you— an urgency to feel him reach the pinnacle he is approaching. You want Eddie to spill inside you, or on your flank, or into the grass, anywhere so long as you can hear the way he whines and moans from the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s it, Ed,” you encourage him breathlessly, “just like that, just— oh— j-just like that, mmm—”

You pinch off a whine, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as his rhythm becomes stilted, uneven, desperate—

And then Eddie gasps raggedly, pulling out and spilling onto the earth between your spread legs. His hands leave you, and you scramble up to your knees, hole mournfully empty but heart so full. You turn as Eddie squeezes the last few drops of his seed from his flushed head onto the ground before catching you in one strong arm as you fall against him, cradling your cheek and kissing you deeply.

But like the kiss you shared in his dining room those few days ago, floorboards creak in the back of your mind, cutting this one short. They’re reminding you that you will soon need to return home and pretend not to know the taste of Eddie’s lips and the feeling of his arms around you.

And frankly, by the end of the first week, you are already growing tired of having to pretend.

It’s not that you give yourselves away because you don’t. Eddie waves at your Pa over the fence and skirts his eyes from you— never cruelly, only in the way you both had planned— and your father doesn’t suspect a thing. When Eddie brings over a pail of milk so you can churn it to make butter, Mama’s face is carefree when you pass it to her. But your desire is no longer contained to fields and creekbeds; it rises up in the night as your yearnings bid you dip your fingers beneath your nightgown. You draw them through sticky folds and dip them inside the well of your arousal, seeking the smoldering fire that burns within. But you can never make yourself feel the way Eddie does, no matter how hard you try.

So when you wake again in the middle of the night, this time, you light a candle, scratching a hasty message onto a scrap of paper. And the next morning, you fold your message carefully, tuck it beneath the waistband of your apron, and reach your arm up to the elbow into that rotted stump, leaving it there for Eddie to find.

The night air is heavy with humidity and the chirping of crickets and cicadas, but you leave the window open. You’re laying in your bed, breathing slow and even, staring at a thin crack in your plaster ceiling to keep your nervousness from overwhelming you. Your parents had retired to bed some time ago; you heard the creaking of the floorboards then, and now, if you concentrate, you can hear the chainsaw snoring of your Pa through both closed doors.

He is sleeping, and Ma is sleeping, and so should you be. But you are waiting— waiting for your best friend to climb through your open window and join you in your bed.

You are waiting for it, but your heart leaps nonetheless when you hear scuffling at the bedroom window. You sit up, and all at once, he’s there, dark eyes gleaming in the faint moonlight. Eddie’s form is near shapeless as he creeps toward your bed, but you would recognize him anywhere; his weight has never dipped the mattress beside you, but it feels exactly as you would expect when one knee sinks beside your calf, only to be joined by the other in the next second. Slowly, feeling around in the dark, Eddie settles his weight on top of you. He is heavy and hot as he presses you into the mattress with his belly and chest; his curls tickle across your clavicle, smelling overwhelmingly like his natural musk in the stagnant air of your bedroom. When he kisses you hello, his mouth tastes slightly sour, as if the heat of the long day and the exertion of scaling the side of your house has dehydrated him.

Eddie is heavy, hot, musky, sour, and here, here in your bedroom with you.

It’s everything you could want.

When he breaks your kiss, it’s all you can do to keep from pouncing on him. “Eddie—” you whine, nuzzling the firm bridge of your nose against the side of his as your hands seek the bottom of his thin shirt blindly, tugging insistently though ineffectually.

He shushes you gently, dropping a peck on your pouting lips before dipping to your neck to murmur against the soft skin there. “Shh—” his breath hushes warm and damp against your skin, and your head tips back of its own accord, begging for more. “You gotta be real quiet, turtle dove,” he whispers. “Don’t want anyone to hear us.”

Your breath deepens as his lips trail down to your collarbone, grazing kisses as he mosies his way down to your chest. In the humid dark, you feel his callused fingers pull down the loose neckline of your nightgown. Eddie says something, and you feel the vibrations of his words against the swell of your breast, but your heart which thumps wildly in your chest and the wooshing of your breath in your ears have rendered you effectively deaf.

“E—” You manage only the first soft sound of his name before his lips close over your nipple for the first time, sucking firmly. Your hand flies to his head as your body goes rigid; your mouth falls open in a ragged gasp as pleasure jolts straight down to throb between your legs. You squirm against him until he presses your hip down with one broad hand to keep you from rocking the bed, working the nub with his tongue and teeth until your gasping breaks into a faint but audible whimper.

You are dazed when he releases you with a wet pop, murmuring against your breast a little more loudly now, “I guess Harrington was right about that, after all. That bodes well.”

You wrinkle your nose as Eddie crawls back up your body to settle over you. Your legs open automatically to accommodate him, but you’re too preoccupied to fully appreciate the feeling of his hardness pressing against your inner thigh. Frowning lightly, you hiss in a whisper, “What’re you doin’ talkin’ to Steven Harrington, of all people?”

“Never you mind that,” Eddie whispers back, and he heads off your protest with a warm palm cupping the side of your neck, his fingers cradling your jaw. “The conversation is too delicate to discuss with a lady, so I’ll just tell you that… well, he told me to do what I just did, and you liked it, right?”

Though embarrassed heat rushes to your cheeks, you nod your head jerkily, enough so he can feel it even if he doesn’t see it in the dark. “Okay, so… he also said there’s a spot.” His hand leaves your cheek to graze down between your bodies, ghosting lightly against the loose fabric pooled between your legs. “Somewhere I can touch you, down here, that’ll make you have a fit if I do it good enough.”

Your bewilderment rushes up in a tangle of sputtered and furious whispers. “Have a fit?! Ed, what on God’s green Earth makes you think I wanna have a fit?”

Eddie huffs. “It’s a good thing, y/n. He said girls really like it.”

Your skepticism is plain as you retort, “Oh, did he now?”

“Yes.” Eddie is uncharacteristically earnest and solemn, and that’s what finally gives you pause. When you’re quiet, he whispers, “I wanna make you feel so good, my sweet girl. If you let me. Will you let me?”

In the humid dark of your bedroom, with only the moon to glaze the side of Eddie’s pale face in cool, subtle light, you look into the darkness of his eyes and feel so many stirrings inside… anticipation, nervousness, desire. But in the end, it’s the deepest stirring of all that convinces you, the one that’s been growing slow and steady over the last ten years.

Trust.

You trust Eddie, more deeply than you’ve trusted any other person in your life, and that trust is what draws you forward into a tentative kiss.

Your lips part briefly from his before meeting again more firmly. Eddie rumbles low in his throat, and when his lips open to deepen the kiss, yours follow. You allow him to lick into your mouth, to draw his tongue across your teeth, to press closer until the way he’s kissing you is hot, deep, wet, and urgent.

When Eddie breaks away, his eagerness is plain in the panting of his breath, the quivering of his arms when you draw your fingertips down his biceps, feeling the hot skin there. “That’s my turtle dove,” he hushes against your mouth, and he sounds so proud and pleased with you that you can’t help but whimper.

Despite his eagerness, Eddie is careful when he climbs off of you to settle at your side, pulling you against him and turning you in his grasp so your back is to his front. Your head falls to the soft down pillow as you feel him work your nightgown up your body, pulling the fabric from where it’s wedged between you. There is the slightest relief from the humidity as your legs, then your hip, then your intimate places are exposed to the air, but you rush even hotter when Eddie’s lips find the shell of your ear so he can murmur, “Spread your legs for me, y/n.”

Trembling, you lift your knee, and his fingers catch against the plush of your thigh, pulling it back over his hip. He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your eye. “That’s it; good girl.”

Your breath shudders in your chest as Eddie’s fingers leave your thigh; you throb with anticipation as they ghost over your hip and tummy before dragging through the soft curls covering your mound. “Tell me when it feels the best,” Eddie whispers, resting the side of his temple on top of yours. The weight of his head is grounding as he begins to explore you slowly with one finger, dragging up and down with no apparent pattern to his movements.

As the moments pass, you relax in his grip, settling into the feeling of his finger dragging through your folds. He doesn’t seem to intend to put them inside you, and what he’s doing feels quite nice, pleasant, almost soothing. The crook of Eddie’s elbow rests against the curve of your ribs, and as your eyes slip closed, you seek his arm with your palm, stroking softly down to his wrist as it moves slowly between your legs—

You jolt as he grazes against something that makes pleasure fizz in a sudden burst, leaving your belly feeling hotter, tighter. As your hips jump, Eddie pauses, his breath catching as he tries to replicate what he’d just done. When it happens again— when pleasure sparks suddenly so might brighter than anywhere else— Eddie’s arm tightens excitedly around your side.

“S’that it?” his voice is a little too loud in his excitement, and you tightly clutch his wrist. “Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, though the urgency hasn’t left his voice. “That’s it, though, isn’t it? Feels better when I touch you there?”

“Yeah,” you reply, voice small and needy. Eddie dips his hand to draw a sloppy circle briefly around your entrance before returning to the apex of your heat— that place that had tingled when he licked you on the creekbed, you now realize, though the thought hadn’t crossed your mind until you felt that pleasure again. When he presses against it again, his fingertip glides much more smoothly now; it felt good before, but now it feels even better.

Eddie continues moving his finger slowly and lightly at first as he waits for your reaction, but when you don’t tense or pull away, his actions become more confident. Your pleasure builds under his careful ministrations; he works you slowly but steadily up into a frenzy of heaving breasts, muffled whines, and writhing hips. You begin to arch your ass back against him, grinding slowly, your tender skin dragging against the soft cotton of his pants until you find that stiffness like a brand against your cheek. You press hard against it, rolling your hips only a few times before Eddie grunts and pulls his hand from between your legs, shifting back away from you.

You know what comes next as you hear the rustling of his clothing; you take the opportunity to catch your breath as he works himself out of his pants, but the wind leaves you just as quickly when he presses back up against you, hard and silky smooth as he guides himself blindly, bumping against your wet, puffy lips. Suddenly overwhelmed with need, you lift your leg higher, whimpering breathily as you reach down between your legs in an attempt to help him. “Fuck’n… c’mon,” Eddie hisses, nudging first too high, then too low, and then—

Then he sinks right in.

It’s the easiest glide, the sweetest stretch, and simultaneously you and Eddie moan as he slides all the way home. “Oh, baby, baby,” he pants desperately against your cheek, “fuck, that’s… oh, my God—”

You reach up over your shoulder to bury your fingers in his curls, and when he pulses inside you, your breath hitches with the force of your desire, your overwhelming need to have him move. “Eddie, please…” you whine, nearly beside yourself, and his hand clamps to your hip like a vice, holding you still as he pulls out and pushes right back in.

You sag with relief as he wastes no time in beginning to fuck you, splitting you open so deliciously on his cock. Eddie pounds you over and over again like he had those times before, but what you don’t anticipate is how that hand on your hip slinks down between your legs again.

You strangle your cry in your throat as he finds that spot so easily as if he’d been drawn to it. You whimper through clamped lips as quietly as you can as Eddie presses tight little circles to your bud, pumping into you from behind. Your fingers wrench from his curls to clamp instead around his forearm; the tendons roll under your fingers rhythmically, and your pleasure begins to build so rapidly it’s nearly frightening.

"That's it, baby,” Eddie encourages you, “You feelin’ good?"

You nod frantically; something is tightening inside you, growing more than it ever has. "Gonna keep goin' til I get you there," Eddie promises breathlessly, panting out the words between his thrusts. "Don't care how long it takes. I got you, sweetheart. Want you to have a fit."

"Eddie," you whine quietly, dumbly; only his name can spill from your lips now. "Ed, E-Eddie, Eddie—"

Your pathetic sounds drive him to fuck you faster, and as he does, your pleasure tightens further, burning hotter, throbbing more and more until the urge to cry out overwhelms you.

Abruptly, you curl your shoulders forward away from him, snatching up the pillow and burying your face in the soft down to muffle the sound of your moans.

You’re still connected where it matters, though Eddie pauses in his movements when you draw away before he realizes what you’re doing. Your sweaty back is exposed to the air for only a moment before he’s following you, unwilling to tolerate any distance— his chin hooks around your shoulder as his hips rut against your ass and his fingers press circles into your clit.

"Bein' so good for me,” Eddie rasps in your ear, “using your pillow to keep yourself quiet so your parents don't hear the way I'm fuckin' you in your bed."

Your moans turn to quiet cries now, rhythmic and constant as your legs squeeze closed around his wrist. And he doesn’t falter; through the plush of your thighs, Eddie fucks you determinedly, thrusting into your fluttering pussy as you gasp and cry raggedly into your pillow. "My girl,” he moans. “They can't take you from me. No one can."

As that feeling builds and grows, instinct in your body takes over, guiding you where it wants to go. Mindlessly, you begin to grind back on Eddie’s cock, rolling your hips; he pulls his wrist from between your legs, holding onto your hip as he matches the rhythm of your movements. Almost desperately, Eddie drags his open mouth across your cheek, panting out his earnest desire for you. "Come on, turtle dove. That's it—"

With a soft, hoarse cry, you finally spasm around him.

The pleasure gapes like a yawn inside you before tightening and bursting outward in a tingling rush, flooding you with mindless euphoria. The intensity of the feeling would be truly frightening had Eddie not been right there behind you, holding you against the solid comfort of his body, whining into your hair. He pumps into you only a few more times before pulling out, and then you feel him spill against your flank. The warm spread of his spend paints your skin, the graze of his cockhead like a hot brand as he squeezes out every drop.

In the aftermath, there is a moment of dazed silence. The only sound that fills your humid bedroom is the chirp of the crickets and the rush of your breaths puffing in unison. When you’ve recovered enough, you break that silence to whisper emphatically, "Oh, Christ on a cracker, Ed, what in the hell was that?!"

Eddie snorts before burying his face hastily into your neck, muffling his chuckles against your skin as your cheeks rush with embarrassment. “Well, don’t laugh at me,” you insist, heating more when he lifts his head and snatches you up by the chin, smacking a firm, playful kiss to your cheek.

“You’re cute,” he murmurs, following up his kiss with two shorter ones before letting you go to wipe your hip off with the bottom of the shirt he’s still wearing.

Your body thrums with contentment, but when the mattress shifts as Eddie climbs carefully down to pull his pants back on, the moment becomes tinged with melancholy. Your eyes track the vague shape of his body for a moment before you whisper, “I wish you could stay, Ed.”

For a moment, all you hear is a heavy sigh, one that leaks with the sadness you’re both beginning to feel. “Me too, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers back. “Can I lay with you, just for a little while?”

The question transforms your sadness into a sharp and poignant swelling— pleasant but painful all at once. “Of course.” You reach blind fingers in the direction of his neck, and Eddie ducks closer so you can draw them through his curls— no longer silky like they were the night of the dinner, yet beloved even more for their frizziness. “I’d really like you to.”

As you laze with Eddie above your bedcovers, tucking your cheek against the side of his chest, sleep begins to swallow the pain of knowing Eddie cannot stay. Only vaguely do you notice when the bed shifts and the warmth pressed to your side unsticks from your sweaty skin, both a relief and a loss; you feel the brush of lips against your forehead and your closed lids, featherlight and delicate; you hear the scuffle of Eddie climbing back out the window to scale the side of your blue roost and return to his red one next door.

Sleep swallows the pain of knowing Eddie cannot stay. But, though Eddie cannot stay, a part of him is always with you, and it has been for some time now. The evidence of your love is nestled safe inside your body; it is an inevitability ten years in the making, now ten days conceived.

You wake the following morning with an overwhelming desire to have Eddie in your mouth.

Maybe it’s an odd urge to have so suddenly, but you suppose after your adventurousness last night, your curiosity to try new things must be piqued. You glance around your room, and the only evidence of Eddie’s visit is that your bedsheets more rumpled than usual, so you straighten them out before tying your housecoat around your body and wandering downstairs.

There you find Mama in the kitchen, who is busying herself with the stove until she notices you’re awake. “Morning!” Your greeting is chipper, and she returns your greeting with a smile. As you breakfast together, all feels usual aside from the absence of Pa at the table; she explains that he’s been speaking with a rancher some towns over about possibly purchasing a new horse. You flash with worry, but she soothes it with a pat of her hand atop yours. “Don’t fret. We’re not replacin’ Guinnie, silly girl,” she huffs with some amusement. “We all know that Pa might’ve bought her, but that’s your horse. I told him it’s high time to get one of his own.”

You sag with visible relief, and Mama’s huff turns to a chuckle. “I’m goin’ into town this morning to pick up some things,” she tells you. “You wanna tag along?”

You open your mouth to say yes, but falter as your belly burns with the sudden realization of this opportunity— Pa gone, Mama in town, Eddie just beyond the fence with the stump in between.

“I was actually thinkin’ I could work on my embroidery this morning,” you reply instead. “Finish the hoop for Mr. Munson, maybe.” You smile innocently. “Then I can start on my 4H hoop!”

There’s no reason for Mama to doubt your sincerity, so she doesn’t. And when, an hour later, you wave your embroidery hoop high in the air from your rocking chair as she sets off down the road, she doesn’t question the call of the turtle dove, nor the cackle of the crow that answers.

The hay in the barn loft is soft under your knees, providing a pleasant cushion while you satisfy your desire with kitten licks along the fat head of Eddie’s cock, kneeling between his spread legs. He tastes as you would expect, though you’d only been thinking about the taste for half a morning. It’s salty, a little musky from the heat, the same way his dark curls smell. Occasionally, beads of liquid shine at the tiny slit at the tip, and when you lick them up, they’re more bitter than the rest. Not pleasant, but not unpleasant either, and the sounds Eddie’s making for you right now more than compensate for it.

When you flick your tongue against that dribbling slit, his breath hitches; when you lick a fat stripe up the underside of his cock, he moans. And when you swallow him down, engulfing him in the wet heat of your eager mouth, he gasps some strangled sound that makes you giggle around him.

Eddie’s hips jolt and squirm when you do, and your eyes pop open to find him looking nearly pained. “F— oh, f— shit,” Eddie finally settles on, and you would smile if you weren’t so full of him right now.

You’ve been exploring him in this new way for a little while, so your curiosity has nearly been sated. Nearly, because you have one thing yet to taste— his seed. And you really want to know what it will feel like to have him spill onto your tongue, to have that hot flesh jerk and pulse within you, to have him feeling just as good as he made you feel yesterday.

So you begin to bob your head, sloppily at first, uneven until you figure out the right angle that keeps your teeth from grazing him and making him hiss. You hum apologetically around him, and his plush lips fall open as you take him a little further while making that sound. Eddie’s cheeks are flushed prettily, his hair like dark ink spilled across the hay as he moans for you. “Shit, baby, that feels so fuckin’ good.”

You rush with satisfaction, growing more enthusiastic as you bob faster, grasping the base to hold him upright so he doesn’t flop around so much. “That’s it,” Eddie pants, “That’s— oh—”

His hand finds the side of your head— not moving you, just resting there as you work him with your mouth and tongue, like he wants to feel the way you’re doting on him. You ignore the soreness in your jaw when his panting gets heavier, and your gaze flashes up to lock on his face— eyes hazy, brow pinched, skin flushed down his neck as he gasps, “Don’t stop, I’m… I’m gonna—”

You moan when he moans, and as you do, Eddie’s cock kicks within the wet heat of your mouth, spilling his seed. It’s thick and tangy, warm but not hot as it spurts to coat your tongue, and you wait motionlessly until the jerking subsides and his fingers relax against your hair.

Pulling off is a little sloppier than you anticipate, and you chuckle as some of his release leaks before you can fully close your mouth. You catch it with a hasty palm, meeting Eddie’s fond, dazed smile with one of your own, albeit closed-lipped on account of your mouth being occupied.

As you swallow him down, using your other hand to wipe your bottom lip, you hear the subtle creak of wood below you.

Your only thought is that you don’t want to look. But whether you look or not, it does not change who waits for you beyond the ledge of the hayloft. It was with a perverse sense of satisfaction that you’d imagined Pa’s face would turn purple at the sight of you with Eddie, but you knew, were it to actually occur, that the horror you would feel would leave you reeling.

Instead, you’re greeted with the sight of Mama’s features. They are pallid, so contorted with the force of her seething rage as to be near unrecognizable, and somehow, that is worse.

#blueywrites #td&tc #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie stranger things #eddie munson imagine #farmer!eddie #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader smut

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moonstrider9904 · 1 month

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Gardens of Yesteryear

This fic is for the Clone Troopers and their Flowers event! @arctrooper69 this goes out to you!

Pairing: Howzer x Female Reader

Synopsis: on a very important day for you and Howzer, you’re unable to find the one thing you need to make the evening flawless. Will that stop you?

Tags/warnings: SFW. No real warnings, just fluff. Established relationship, brief mentions of alcohol.

Word count: 2.6k

Crossposted to AO3

As you bumped into one of the many flower-filled buckets for the third time that visit, you scolded yourself for leaving it to the last minute. There you were, in the fifth flower shop of the morning, and you’d had no luck finding those flowers. The day before, you’d thought your reasons to wait until the actual day were decent. You didn’t want them going bad, you didn’t want the petals crumbling or the stems going stale. You wanted all the best for him, for your special day.

You couldn’t believe it had already been three years.

The memory of your beloved coming into your life prompted you into taking a deep breath in the middle of the flower shop amidst all the people happily buying their bouquets of sunflowers or lilies, all flowers that were easy to find and renowned by everyone. It had been a rainy summer, that one, and it was the summer your life changed when you put it into perspective. The decisions you made, the people you met… you remember your man being the sensation. Everyone was talking about him and you’d heard his name mentioned and repeated days before you even got the chance to meet him, and surely enough, you also fell for Howzer’s charms when you first laid eyes on him. It was hard for you to fathom your luck—the sheer way in which the universe had smiled at you, told you yes, you may have this man to love and to hold.

A smile appeared on your face when the memory of when he’d asked you to be his came into your mind. The clouds had cleared on that day and you felt a warm sunshine on your skin. The breeze that day carried the smell of grass and flowers and the noise of children laughing and families going about. Donning a sundress and a cute little hat with sandals that matched it, you’d met Howzer underneath an oak tree whose green leaves looked radiant in the sunlight, and he’d arrived with a stunning bouquet of blue freesias. The way the blue shade matched the colors of his armor from his days as a soldier didn’t escape you, and that was when he’d asked you if you wanted to make your relationship formal. You’d never been quicker to say yes to anything, and those flowers remained on a vase at the center of your home for longer than any other bouquet had in your entire life.

Your mother’s words came to mind, of that one time she told you, “When someone’s flowers last that long, it means their feelings for you are really strong.”

But your heart also ached at the memory of how beautiful Howzer’s gesture was. Now that you were hitting the three year mark, you wanted to replicate the feeling in him, let him know that you’d also be willing to go over the top for him any time. And while most of your three-year-anniversary date had already been planned out, this part remained a secret.

In theory, since your flower endeavor was a secret, there would be no real consequence to you not going through with it. But you were unwilling to let it slide.

Then, as the florist came back around the counter from the back of the shop, you took a deep breath, feeling your pulse rise as you anticipated all the things she could possibly say to you.

“I have good news and bad news,” the florist said.

“Oh, maker,” your words shook from nerves as you exhaled your tension, but your tone remained kind. “Start with the bad news, please.”

“Well, I have two pieces of bad news,” the florist continued. “I have no blue freesias, and I have no freesia arrangements already made.”

You nodded. “Okay… what about the good news?”

“I have freesias in just about any other color. If you’re willing to work with that, just tell me what other colors you want and I’ll have an arrangement ready for you in thirty minutes tops,” she smiled at you.

Your heart sank, and the florist took notice.

“I don’t mean to make it worse,” the florist said, “but if you’d come around one hour earlier, I think you still would’ve found some blue ones.”

You chuckled, your laughter dipped in slight disappointment. “Yeah… an hour ago I was at a different flower shop, and they told me the same.”

The florist gave you a sympathetic smile. “I can work wonders, you know. Why don’t you let me mix some white, purple, and pink freesias and sprinkle in some golden motifs?”

A thought suddenly perched itself on your mind as you remembered the warm glow of the evening when your relationship with Howzer started. Everything had seemed so golden around you, and after all this time, that was one of the first things that you thought of when the memory came. The next thing you always seemed to think of was how beautiful the teal of Howzer’s armor looked whenever the ambience around him was so warm. The image was vivid in your mind, and your heart raced with joy as you thought of your handsome Howzer, in that perfect lighting, only belonging to you.

“You know what?” You smiled at the florist. “Do you have any yellow and hot pink freesias?”

“You bet,” she replied.

“Okay… do you think you could mix all the colors, but give the warm tones priority? And maybe we could keep the golden motifs.”

The florist nodded at you. “Give me a half hour and I’ll surprise you.”

A half hour sounded wondrous. In that time, you could go to the bakery next door to get some of the last things you needed before your anniversary date.

“You’re a hero,” you told the florist. “I’ll be back!”

The sun had started to go down on the sky, and the light it cast on the outside took that beautiful shade of gold you so loved. Despite the flowers not going according to your plan, the bouquet the florist got for you was still gorgeous, and if anything, it complimented Howzer’s signature colors. You had the whole thing planned out, figuring you could trust the kind florist to help you with one last endeavor to give the evening one more level of charm. You never wanted to be predictable when it came to Howzer, especially not when it came to a day as important as that one.

You were approaching the spot Howzer had chosen for your date. He had the tendency to not be predictable when it came to you either, and though it would have been sweet to have your date where it all began, Howzer chose a place that was new to you. At a park in a quieter side of the town, where there was grass, benches, tall trees, and even a fountain, and you felt the romance in the air from the moment you arrived.

You marched yourself across the park, feeling occasional blades of grass brushing against the skin exposed on your sandaled feet, and the gentle wind flowed in harmony with the skirt of your white sundress. You made your way towards the spot of the park Howzer had told you to meet him beforehand, and when you were at a short distance, you spotted him talking with two of his brothers. He saw you coming, as you could tell by the way his gorgeous brown eyes landed briefly on you only for him to gesture hurriedly at his brothers to leave, causing you to giggle softly at him. Howzer was a gentleman, but you loved it whenever your charm brought out his more clumsy side.

As you walked up to him, you took in every detail of Howzer. Though you weren’t at the same oak tree, the warm light of the evening matched the memory so well it might as well have belonged to you and Howzer already. As for your boyfriend, Howzer wore light brown pants and shoes that were a slightly darker shade, almost approaching a milk-chocolate color. His white shirt seemed to be made of a light, breathable fabric, ideal for days with such high temperatures and warm winds blowing, and the white shirt had thin cross-stitch patterns embroidered along the length of his chest in teal thread, his signature color.

A large grin plastered itself on your face as you took those last steps between Howzer and yourself, and your free hand went up to his shoulders as you leaned in and perked yourself up on your toes to greet him with a light kiss on his cheek.

“Hi, love,” you chimed.

“Hi,” Howzer smiled at you, his gaze traveling over your silhouette. “Wow, you are… you are stunning.”

You giggled and gave a little twirl on the spot. “Thanks.”

You then paused as you watched him standing there, his hands hidden behind his back as he smiled a tad nervously at you. You took that moment to take in the rest of the details around you: the red and white blanket placed on the grass, a large plate with grapes, hams, and cheeses, a wooden tray with short legs to safely hold a bottle of rosé wine and two slender cups, and series of warm fairy lights already powered on for them to grow progressively as the sun set. You smiled at the scene and set your basket of bread down on the blanket, your chest swelling with joy as you looked over at Howzer again, ready to tell him how beautiful the set up was.

But Howzer remained with his same uptight posture, hands insistently behind his back.

You giggled again. “Well? Aren’t you gonna kiss me?”

“U-Uh, right,” Howzer stammered, revealing one of his hands from behind his back. “Suppose I could just do this.”

“Mmm yeah, you could,” you chirped as Howzer bent forward and kissed your cheek sweetly. Smiling brightly, you turned your face to face him directly, and Howzer leaned in again to press his lips to yours.

You sighed dreamily, sinking into the familiarity and warmth of his lips, letting your fingertips travel up to brush the skin on the sides of his face. You’d memorized all of him, from the texture of the scar on his cheek to the lines of his face, the way he tasted and how he tilted his head first to the left and then to the right when he locked lips with you. You grinned into the kiss, pressing your lips harder to his before pulling away with a tiny smile.

“Happy anniversary, dear,” you whispered.

“Happy anniversary,” Howzer reciprocated with a serene smile.

“So,” you raised a brow at him. “Wanna tell me what you have back there?”

The clumsiness returned momentarily to Howzer as he stammered on his words. “Oh, r-right. Um…”

Howzer took a deep breath, returning to his regal, captain-like demeanor. He straightened his back and looked at you with confidence and affection, two traits that would have you swooning over him for days.

“I wanted to have a balance today, you know?” Howzer began. “I do want to commemorate this day three years ago under that oak tree when you said yes to me, but it’s been three years, and as much as I hold the past very close, I also want to acknowledge the fact that you and I, well… we have a future. We have a path to move forward in, and… hence the new place. But… well, maybe putting it that way, it’s not such a tragedy.”

You tilted your head, confused by his last sentence.

Howzer chuckled. “To have a piece of the day you and I became a couple, I wanted to get you the same blue freesias I got you back then.”

He slowly revealed what he was hiding behind him, and you stared at the bouquet of bright yellow, red, magenta, and light pink freesia flowers. The bouquet was balanced out with smaller white flowers that resembled chamomile, and it was wrapped in cellophane on the outer layer and thin bright pink paper on the inside, tied together with a neat teal bow. Howzer held the bouquet out to you, smiling charmingly at you, and for a moment, he resembled a prince declaring his love to you for the first time all over again.

You chuckled at him, dazed. “Let me guess. All the flower shops were out of the blue freesia flowers.”

“It’s uncanny how I was unable to find any today. It’s like they plotted to ridicule me,” Howzer agreed, but now he raised a brow at you. “How did you know?”

You giggled, your cheeks flushing with heat. With the best of timings, you spotted the florist walking up behind Howzer, and your gaze regrouped with that of your lover.

“Well, you’re not the only one who remembers vivid blue flowers that day,” you said, slowly walking up to him and kissing his cheek, letting your voice lower into a whisper as you told him, “close your eyes.”

Happily, Howzer obeyed. You skipped past him and went over to the florist, mouthing the words “Thank you” as you took the bouquet from her and took your position in front of Howzer again. You held the bouquet in front of your chest and smiled brightly at Howzer, your eyes sparkling.

“I know about the blue flowers because I wanted to get them for you too,” you said.

Howzer opened his eyes and felt his chest swelling with love at the sight of you holding the bouquet. You’d gotten the flowers in the same colors he had, and the golden motifs didn’t escape him.

“Darling,” Howzer sighed as he took the flowers from you. He chuckled softly, looking you in the eyes. “Well, great minds do think alike.”

“I guess they do,” you beamed.

Howzer set your bouquet down on the blanket next to the one he’d gotten for you. He rested them on your basket of bread and smiled at the way both complement one another, not unlike you did to him. Howzer then took your hands in his and looked you in the eyes, gazing into you with all the tender care he held for you.

“I love you,” he spoke softly.

Your entire chest fluttered, and your eyes glimmered up at Howzer as you blessed him with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen.

“I love you too,” you said before leaning in and letting him kiss you.

As you both pulled apart from the kiss, the gleam in your eyes turned excited.

“Now, can I please start eating that cheese?” You proposed.

Howzer laughed. “Help yourself. I’ll pour the wine and get the crackers.”

“No wine, no crackers, no bread,” your hungry side got the better of you. “Only cheese.”

Howzer kissed your cheek, pressing himself firmly into you and smiling into your skin with how much he adored you. You then took a seat on the blanket and grabbed a cube of rich, yellow cheese, plopping it into your mouth. As you savored it, you leaned your head back, taking a deep breath as you enjoyed the peace, the breeze, the whole evening. Hearing as Howzer opened the bottle of wine and poured the two cups, you reached for a grape and smiled, knowing you were in the middle of perfection.

Here’s to more years, you thought as Howzer took a seat next to you, handing you your cup of wine.

You clinked your glasses together, and then you leaned your head on his shoulder, smiling as you gazed into the sunset and enjoyed every second of your time with the man who made your days bright and your years sweet as the scent of freesias.

Thanks so much for reading! If you like this fic, please consider reblogging to support me!

Dividers by saradika-graphics

#cloneflowerficevent #tbb howzer x reader #tbb howzer x you #captain howzer x reader #captain howzer x you #moonstrider writes #captain howzer #tbb howzer #tbb fanfic #tbb fanfiction

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aerkame · 1 year

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Hi, I hope you're having a wonderful day!!!! How would Wally and the others in your Alive AU react if Reader had a coworker or friend that was romantically interested in them? Would they just get really clingy or even aggressive, especially considering they're confined inside the house?

I am! I went skating for a long while outside and got a Starscream model kit to put together later. :) (Short fic takes place in the Alive AU)

Jealous! Everyone x reader

__________________________________________________________

It started with flowers. One day out of the blue you had came home with a huge bouquet of beautiful roses. Julie was the first to ask where you got them, they were just so pretty! You told them it was from a coworker at the public library, he was really polite and gave you these roses as a gift...you were blind to say the least, not seeing it as a romantic gesture. But the romantic gift did not go unnoticed by your colorful guests.

Poppy told you she was already preparing dinner for tonight which was a relief honestly, you felt exhausted. Two pairs of arms pulled you close for a hug, recognizing them as Julie and Sally, the two hyper sunshines of your life. "Hey there host, we reeeeaaallly wanna show you something!" Julie was practically jumping with joy while Sally let go to grab something, coming back with a stereo to play music on. The two put on a dance that almost resulted in a vase being broken, but Barnaby's soft paws were there to catch it just in time.

"How about we all dance together?" Barnaby gave you a warm smile, he always knew how to warm your heart. Holding out his paw you took hold of it, joining in the dance with the three goofballs.

During dinner, Poppy came up to you with a delicious looking small cake and placed it right in front of you. "I made you some dessert deary, eat up!" You looked down confused "But what about the others?" However, when you looked back at the table everyone had already gone to do their own activities (or so you assumed) and Poppy just sat there smiling. Soon after that awkward dinner Eddie cornered you in the hallway one arm leaning on the wall and the other holding a neatly folded letter with red hearts all over it. "Here you are sweets, Frank and I wrote this just for you." You firmly grasped the paper and unfolded it. It was a beautifully written poem about you. "Wow, thank you Eddie I don't know what to say, this is very well written! I love it." Eddie gave you a small kiss on the head like he always did and the tip of a hat before walking downstairs whistling a small tune.

Later that night Howdy came by the bathroom as soon as you got out of the shower to gift you with the shiniest apple you've ever laid eyes on. You questioned where he got it from but Howdy only responded with "It's a secret! Just know that it's 100% off for you!" You couldn't say no to that goofy grin of his, plus he was just so happy to give it to you! You took it from him with a warm smile on your face... Also because his giant body was blocking you from leaving.

Once you finally managed to get by the giant caterpillar with your new gift you went to your room to settle down and sleep, rolling around a bit in the sheets until you got comfortable enough and closed your tired eyes.

Not even a minute after closing your eyes you felt the bed dip beside yourself and a long arm snaked over your torso. Only one person you know does that. "Wally, what are you doing?"

"I'm just cuddling my dearest host to sleep is all.~" You peeked open an eye after hearing that. He always did this when he wanted something out of it. "What do you want?"

"Nothing at all! You're the most I could ever ask for...buuut since you brought it up, you might as well do me a teeny tiny favor." You rolled in bed, turning yourself towards his chest, you were too cozy to care about the intimacy. "Hmh?" You hummed in acknowledgment.

"Stop talking to Derrek."

You sat up immediately. Not once did you tell anyone who it was that you've been talking to. "How did you-" a finger shushed you. "I know about him, and I want you to stay away. Can you do that for me darling?" He smiled coyly, but really it felt like he was threatening you. "No...Wally I can't just ghost someone like that. Besides we're just friends." The arm around you tightened as you squirmed to get out of your own bed. "Oh I know, but I would really love it if you two would quit talking. I don't think he's right for you."

Your eyes narrowed at him, for once the cocky bastard didn't look so cocky. "Wally...are you jealous? Is that what all of this is about? The gifts, the dancing, the constant cuddle sessions from you and everyone else here?" You watched his body go rigid and his face scrunch up into what was almost a frown. Wow, he's actually kind of frowning for once. That was rare.

"Wally, we're not a thing. Derrek and I are just friends and I don't intend to ever date him. I'm glad you and the others really care about me this much but you really shouldn't worry about my safety." You spoke more softly, finally understanding where he was coming from. The iron grip on your waist didn't falter though and you felt yourself suddenly being forced into a bear hug.

Julie swatted Barnaby's long tie out of her face so she could lean in closer to the door to listen. Everyone else did their best not to make any noise as they listened in.

"Look, if it makes you feel any better I'll just tell him we're nothing more than friends and to keep it at that, but I can't just cut people out of my life like that...alright?"

An audible groan left everyone's mouth hearing that, startling you and Wally both. Silly host, how can you be so blind to love?

Looks like the dear reader doesn't understand just how much everyone loves them yet! Personally I don't think any of them would be the type to hurt you or others EXCEPT for Wally. I think they would probably just try to shower you with their love to make you like them more...however, if you are straying too far from them they may need to find a way to make you a permanent resident at the house, just not at your house. They've got a nice place just for you back Home.

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missbunnybunny · 11 months

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🫧『𝕺𝖍 𝖜𝖍𝖔 𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖊? 𝕬 𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖞』🫧

Tw: dark kink, unprotected sex, non-con, dark content, rough sex, bondage, kinky, breeding, praise, degradation.

A/n: If something is incorrect, please let me know. using Google Translate for Russian words. I simply put down what came to me and spell-checked it. I'm not sure whether it even makes sense or not but enjoy!

Note: I'm interested in seeing how good my writing is, therefore I'm giving it my all. I have high hopes, for this one. This is a long boy. Your meal has been served, it was my pleasure serving you all 🍽️🤵🏽‍♀️.

🎐𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝟐🎐

Oh, Who is she...

-Russia, Kubinka.-

The sky was a never-ending sea of white and grey, with no sight of the sun to sprinkle a sliver of sunshine as the snow gently fell to the earth, painting everything white as far as the eyes could see. People were spotted marching up and down with their warm jackets and hats, guns in hand, flawlessly matching one stride at a time. Not one man, hair, or step out of line, just as they were trained.

An automobile stopped in front of a large structure, the driver's door opened, and a hefty man crouched down and carefully exited the vehicle. Soon after, three more doors opened, and three guys came out of the car, closely followed by a lady. Her e/c eyes surveyed her surroundings as she expelled a little puff of air and watched it develop and dissipate, demonstrating how chilly it was outdoors.

The group entered the building and proceeded to a table; the woman sat on a couch a few meters away from the table, setting her weapon down. Her colleagues each pulled out a chair and sat. You gazed at them silently as you picked up the riffle you had placed down as you walked in, taking it into your hands and starting to disassemble it. You were cleaning the scope aimlessly when you were dragged out of your thoughts by someone calling out to you.

" Rusalka." He exclaimed. Rusalka a water spirit or a water fairy. She was frequently linked to the mythological concepts of a nymph or a mermaid. The term "Deadly but Beautiful" was given to you by your superiors. You liked the name Rusalki because she was a deadly dead creature and cursed ghost that resembled a young woman. Your countless enemies would hear your name before being struck down.

timid, helpless, and frail, some would say she was. But even the most beautiful flower may be toxic when needed. Judging a book by its cover would get you killed. You were nothing but skilled, powerful, and lethal.

"Yes, Captain Azhdaya." It signified dragon. He had a bulky physique. His face is studded with minor battle scars, except for the bigger ones. One on his left cheek a few meters from his lips and concluding just shy of his ear, a scar at the bridge of his nose, and a split on his lip. "Your location will be here," he says, pointing to a map as you stand to investigate.

"You will cover the team from this distance." He ended by tugging his finger in a direction. It was an excellent location with lots of trees and tall grass; blending in with an all-white outfit in an unending field of white snow would make it simple to conceal from the adversary and get a vantage point at the same time.

A misty memory

Leshy, the forest's guardian. His honey-brown eyes examined the chart, humming a tune under his breath as he took everything in. At 5"8, he was a few inches shorter than the captain.

Vodyanoy was discussing options that they might take advantage of. The hues of the woodland were reflected in the eyes. They were two colors, yet they were as enthralling as an unending expanse of trees and flowers. He was 3 inches shorter and had less muscular mass than Azhdaya, yet he was still a terrifying opponent to face in a fight.

Chuma and Leshy were the same height. He was a man with few words. But he was always in the mood for black humor jokes, making you both laugh and smile as the captain gazed on in fear. His eyes were clear and wonderfully polished blue proportions. He was a lovely soul, like your brother, even though you threatened to slam your foot up his ass for nearly getting killed.

You made your way to the table while reassembling your riffle. As you read the orders, your pupils narrowed. Objectives Destroy the English task force and safeguard the nuclear weapons in the ware home. Your hand reached for your hat, pulling it down slightly and readjusting it.

" Put on your armor and prepare your weapons. We depart at 0800 and expect to arrive by 1000." Azhdaya spoke up, dismissing you all from the briefing to prepare for the upcoming expedition.

You all walked out of the room and into your individual rooms. There would be no time to waste. Blood would be spilled tonight, and your squad would either win or die at the hands of the enemy.

A haunting face

The trip was uneventful. You all sat in the rear of the armored truck, silently double-checking your coms, gear, and weapons. Your seat was at the rear, and you were staring out the window idly. Watching as the colors of the night and the red glimmer of the tailgate blended together in one fast move before disappearing into the darkness. Only to pick up again.

You'd lost count of time, your attention only on the glittering lights in the night. It was lovely. Azhdaya was checking in with everyone to ensure that everything was in order. The squad represented family to him. The boys were like the sons had never had, and Rusalka, like the youngest, leave her alone, and she was going to destroy the world.

His gaze was drawn to the short figure in the rear, and he made a mental note to ensure she was mentally sound. She was threatening the guys, telling them she'd stick her pistol up their asses if they died on her.

The car came to a complete halt. "Rusalka, we're here." The person next to you spoke, Chuma patted your shoulder and stated. You blink and glance up at him, then nod your head, rise up, and grip the firearm close to your chest.

The expedition had begun; for better or worse, may you all return home.

Is she a lost embrace?

You and your riffle were hiding on a hill. A light coat of snow covered your body from head to toe. If someone looked in your direction, all they'd see is a mound of snow, plants, and trees.

They might see the glimmer of scope if they looked carefully enough.

Do you copy, Rusalka?- As a voice spoke up to you, you heard the communication link come alive. That was your captain - Yes, over. -You talked quietly and quietly so as not to draw attention to yourself.

If you detect any activity, alert us - He said, staring out the window, his figure masked by the night's darkness. The others wait in their respective holdings for any others to either fire or rethink their future movements.

It was completely quiet. You had no idea how much time had passed. More snow blanketed your body like a giant chilly blanket, completely immersing you beneath it. Your hands were numb from the cold, and you had to push yourself to remain motionless as little shivers and trembles brushed your skin.

Am I in love with just a theme?

From the looks of things, tonight was going to be unremarkable. Until you heard it, that is. Your ears picked up on the faint crunching sound. It was too big for a cat, too quiet for a fox, and too tall for a dog. It was a person, but you had to make certain it wasn't a civilian.

You adjusted your riffle slightly and focused your attention on the shadows you saw slipping away in the darkness. When you saw it, they were holding firearms and wearing protective gear. -Humans- were the words that came out of your mouth as you turned on the coms connection.

You observed three towering people headed toward the structure. One taller than the other, he wore a hood, another wore what seemed to be a skull mask, and finally, a man with a Mohawk? You hesitated briefly, resisting the impulse to chuckle quietly. You had to admit it suited him. Oh well, He was still the enemy.

Static came from your coms, and it quickly came back to life to instruct you. -headcount?- he gruffly asked you. - 3, sir.- You hurriedly spoke. - Keep a lookout two missing people. He advised you that there should be 5. You dropped your sight and examined your scope.

You gazed about the area for a while before seeing it. A person towards the front of the building, next to a shrub. - 4 shrubs at the entrance - You spoke as you gazed at the man you would have missed if you hadn't seen his little movement.

Or is Ayesha just a dream?

You were told to shoot as soon as they broke through the door. The instruction was to shoot to injure and, if necessary, to kill.

Something caught your attention. You didn't know what it was, but something was awry on the opposite side of the field. Was it the stillness, the swearing misleading figures appearing in your vision?

You couldn't rely on your vision. The darkness and shadows might generate illusions that will stymie your enthusiasm and your team's life. The door to the building burst open while your attention was elsewhere. It caught you off guard. You looked up immediately to see that they were entering the building.

They entered the building, permission to shoot.- You talked softly but rapidly. As you waited, your finger slowly fell to the trigger. - Granted-, that was all you needed to shoot at the figure as it slowly made its way inside.

You kept an eye out for any opportunities. You pulled the trigger when you saw it. The bullet sliced through the air as it approach its victim. His leg was struck. His blood had stained the snow underneath him.

A mystery

From then on, all hell had broken loose. Ghost talked on the coms after Soap was shot. When he informed his crew that bullets had been fired, their senses went into overdrive. König was ahead of the group, gun lifted, trigger finger on the trigger, ready to fire on the suspicious enemy.

Ghost was on the right, Soap was on the left, and Price was just behind them. Soap was hobbling a little, but the gunshot had not killed him. Ghost unlocked the doors and searched the rooms for any indication or sight of someone. The weapons were reported to be at the far end of the facility, according to the information.

A gunshot struck the side of König's skull, missing him by an inch. As soon as the doors leading to the weapon room opened. He and his men retreated hastily behind the door and the walls, firing back at the culprits.

Both sides were heavily armed. It could be heard over the coms as the sound of gunfire broke out in the air. Making the night more silent, quiet, and foreboding. After a while, everything was silent; neither the wind nor the crickets wanted to make an appearance. Sometimes silence was never a good thing.

Oh, who is she?

You waited with bated breath - Leshy and Chuma were shot - a voice came through. Vodyanoy was there. You exhaled a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. You stood there watching as the man who had entered the building burst out the door.

You watched as the man with the Mohawk was assisted by a man wearing a helmet. The tallest of them all had the arm of the man in a skull mask over his shoulder. Their blood stained the snow with a brilliant scarlet tint.

That's when something occurred to you. - Vodyanoy, tell me where Azhdaya is. Unlike your normal calm and collected manner, you raised your voice. -The captain was shot in the abdomen.- As you received the news, your heart fell, throbbing and hurting. - I've already made the decision. But I require your presence.- You entered the building without hesitation, without caring if it would get you killed or if it was irresponsible.

The mission was successful, but at a high cost: everyone was severely hurt. The cost was cleared when the medical team came. Unfortunately, someone had to remain behind. You offered to remain behind because there wasn't much room in the truck, don't know how but it happened. Your team was against it, but you shot them down. You were the least harmed and would be hiding in one of the nearby hideouts.

Oh, who is she?

You arrived at one of the hideouts, an abandoned structure by a river. Your firearm was never far from your side or in your hands. Even though it was familiar ground, you could never relax your guard.

As you got closer to the building, you noticed a towering person. You'd seen him before. If you recall, he was the colonel on the other side of this combat field. You knew you could play the helpless citizen if you were simply charming to him. You could at the very least eliminate him and his squad.

You took a gamble knowing you were about to collide in this combat field unknown to him but not to you. He was tall, far taller than you would have anticipated. He towered over your commander. You choose to have some fun. You taunted him by messing with his thoughts. You become the night's shadow, the illusion that swirled in his unfocused eyes.

You observed him as he twisted and turned. Look to the right and left, up ahead and below. You chuckled a little, watching him feverishly search for you like a lost puppy. But you were disappointed since your spot had been snatched from you; you heard shouts and froze. The man in the skull mask exited the building beside the colonel. You made the decision to walk away from him. You locked eyes with him as he lifted his firearm and spoke harshly. " Get her."

A misty memory

You rushed out of there on your heels, seeking for a new hiding spot. You rushed through the deep forest, crouching low to avoid hitting a tree. You made the mistake of looking back and confronting death.

He was swiftly catching up with you. You ran and ran, and you appeared to have lost track of time, but one thing bothered you: they were both following after you, but when you looked around, you noticed the one with the skull mask.

You inhaled the frigid air, allowing it to enter your aching, anxious lungs. You proceeded to the abandoned building, taking in as much air as you could and watching for a while to be sure it was clear. You seek refuge in a dark area with access to the entrance and window.

You closed your eyes and lay back against the corner, rifle in hand, succumbing to tiredness and allowing sleep to overtake you. You were too sleepy to notice that your safe way was going to be your undoing.

A haunting face

As Ghost and König stood in front of the building König had seen you walk onto, it was late. Ghost had lost track of you, and the snow had made everything appear so familiar that he couldn't tell right from left. He waited until König returned, informing Ghost that he had discovered where you were hiding.

Now when they were standing in front of the building, Ghost crept inside quietly, not wanting you to flee. You being valuable to them since you know the ins and outs of the building. He creeps closer to the room, discovering you in a corner with a riffle in hand. Your head hung down, hiding your features. He eased you out of the corner.

He straddled your lap and took a knife from his thigh strap, pressing it to your throat. " You know, that's not nice. Everyone told you, you have a sexy waist." You voiced to him, as you looked him up and down, making eye contact, a little grin tugged at your lips.

Ghost's eyes narrow as he looks at you, moving his knife closer to your throat, a line of scarlet slipping from your slashed flesh. "I'm the one who asks the questions here." His tone was harsh and low. Sending shivers down your spine as his icy, almost lifeless eyes glared down at you.

You can feel his breath fan your face as he leans forward. You feel your cheeks get hot and flushed. Were you indeed roused by a masked guy riding your lap? Perhaps nothing is impossible in love and war.

Is she a lost embrace?

You heard a stir from behind you and tilted your head to see a tall man towering over the two of you. The moonlight behind him accentuated his silhouette. Huh? The lost puppy returned in search of his owner, you guessed. König kept staring into you quietly, observing your very move.

"as much as I would enjoy having you in my lap," you said to the masked man, carefully moving your hand, not revealing your plans for the following few seconds. "You've never said your name." You sweetly spoke, but they couldn't see it anyhow. Finally, make contact with your riffle and grip it tightly.

You heard him say, "König." His voice is deep and low, and just hearing it makes your stomach twist and spin. "Ghost," remarked the man next to you. "Rusalka," you say, raising your arm and smacking the riffle's bud into the ghost's face. Making him lose his equilibrium somewhat, providing you exactly the right amount of change.

König charged at you as Ghost was cradling his bloody nose. You couldn't feel his body as much as you wanted to. You turned and hurried out of the room you were in and into another. Will the mouse escape or will the cat devour the mouse?

I call her name

As you approached the front of the building, you could see the light at the end of the corridor. It was probably time to look for a new home, but unfortunately, like the cat that ate the canary, you were apprehended before you could safely fly away. Something heavy smacked your back, forcing the breath from your lungs in a huge gasp.

You're not sure how long you were out, but when you awoke, your wrists were bound behind your back and you were tied to a chair, your legs connected to the leg chair. "Well, aren't Kinky?" you said, glancing up at the two guys looking down at you. They look at you. Ghost approached you, his hands resting on your thighs. You could feel the marks framing the outline of his hands as he squeezed so hard.

"Since you don't want to behave, I'll teach you manners." Ghost spoke, harshly grading your chin. You felt hands on your legs before Ghost shoved it away. König knelt down and unfastened your legs. As König rose up and came to Ghost's side, you maintained eye contact with him.

Know that your thoughts were not going in circles. You noticed that it was cooler than usual. Looking down, you noticed your gear and jacket had vanished. Ghost came up behind you, untying your hands from the chair just to re-tie them. So you're not going to attempt anything.

Across an endless plain

Your face was smashed against the dirt floor in the blink of an eye, and your pants and underwear ripped off your waist as though a wild beast desired something more. Your cunt has been exposed to the stranger, Ghost. "You may scream all you want. It's just three of us here." As you felt something hard push against you, he groaned. "You want me to behave," you exhale, shifting your face to face him. "Make me," you spat in his face, you weren't going down that easy.

His cock pounding pierces your pussy lips and presses deep inside of you. Your eyes roll into your skull, erupting in a whining moan. You wept and pleaded in a high you'd never known, with each thrust driving your face further and harder into the floor, yet he never yielded. Instead, his muscular arms just held you in place until release arrived in the form of his sperm blasting forcefully into your womb. " Should've behaved." He talked as he stood, leaving your ass up on the floor, his cum flowing out of your pussy onto the floor.

In your haze, you noticed boots in front of you and looked up to see König staring down at you; you blinked up at him, blinking away the tears that had gathered in your eyes. From the fuck Ghost had given you. He lowered himself, stroking your cheek and brushing away some stray tears with his thumb. "We might let you go if you give us what we want." You forced your lips together tightly, not making a single sound. Looking him straight in the eyes.

She'll answer me

"She's a lot more stubborn than we thought, König." Ghost declared as he picked you up by your tide hands and watched your legs try to remain erect. Ghost's knife ripped your shirt, tearing it apart in front of their greedy gaze. His left hand touched your face as he raised his mask, tilting it so he could passionately kiss you. You trembled as an enormous chilly hand clutched your chest, his right hand still firmly gripping your roped-tied hands.

Squeezing and licking your nipples like a ravenous starving man. König sucked and bit, leaving a trail of vibrant markings from your chest to your stomach and then to your core. While pounding two of his enormous thick fingers into you, he spreads your lips while kissing and relentlessly sucking your clit.

Your thoughts were racing with pleasure and overstimulation. Your lips were still being taken. You fell undone under them, Ghost's ravenous lips snatched the chances to breathe. König sipped your juices, humming to himself as if it were his sole source of relief for his parched throat. As he drank his fill, you felt the vibration against your pussy, and he drew away, licking his lips and letting his hood fall back down his face. His gaze fixed on your crumbling body.

Ghost, you let go, and you fall to the floor, your legs too weak to support you." It appears that we will have to break her." You didn't know who said it since you were too fucked up to notice or care, "Bite me." Your response was more of a drunken rambling than confidently articulated.

Wherever she may be

You became crushed between Ghost and König, and König pulled his hood up and pushed your chin up for him, tenderly kissing you and caressing your hair. While ghosts' hands raced across your body, searching every inch until nothing remained untouched by his fingers.

You could feel König's cock throbbing and dripping little pearls of cum against your tummy. Your body was drawn up until you were hovering above his quivering, gushing tip. As he split you in two, your arms swiftly curled around his neck, covering your face in his chest.

König drove himself more and deeper inside you, and with each inch, you gasped for breath. "That's a good girl…" He praised you, and you let out a tiny curse in your native tongue, feeling as though his words had kindled a fire within you. Soon after, his base kissed your cunt's lips. He let you relax for a few moments before grabbing your supple hips. It began slowly and steadily until you felt something hard press against your ass.

You totally filled König and Ghost in one fast motion. They began to thrust; being full of könig was one thing. But being filled by them both over and over again had you groaning and moaning like the slut you were for them. Every vein pressed against your walls as they gently stretched you out, shaping you to the shape of their dicks with each deep push. Bouncing you up and down, hitting every deep area that had you seeing stars. Fuck, the entire cosmos.

Oh, who is she?

König was concerned that he would inflict too much harm on you. After all, you were so little compared to him and Ghost. Nevertheless, he was losing control of himself, his eyesight obscured by the need to fill you with his seed. His head and judgment, his cock longing for release. König held you to his chest. Something about the whole event you excited in a deep primal lust, a never-ending hunger.

The only thing your lust-filled thoughts wanted right now was to be taken from behind and in front by two huge beasts like them. The lack of König's cock was already causing your insides to ache for him, and you whined for him. König whispered into your ear as he gripped a fistful of your hair, his hot breath thick on your neck. "mine! your fucking mine." He hissed low and commandingly. how you loved it, squeezing them tighter.

In one seamless stroke, könig sheathed himself into you up to the hilt, one hand on your neck and the other securely gripping your hip. The loud yell that the movement elicited from you was addictive in and of itself. They couldn't get enough of you, making an obscene squelching sound as König and Ghost brutally pounded their big cock as if you'd vanish if they didn't.

They grunted deep animalistic grunts as they pushed into your swelling pussy and ass, and you swallowed them in and contracted around them like there was no tomorrow. Not wanting to give up the mind-bending bliss.

A misty memory

"дa да да да" [yes⁴] You screamed in pleasure, feeling your body tense and quiver every time König's balls made contact with your clit and his head pressed against your womb. " я кончу! чувствую себя так хорошо. заполните меня, пожалуйста." [am gonna cum! feel so good. fill me up, please.] You mumbled in your native tongue, head clouded with pure raw lust.

Their ears were filled with your moans. They totally engulfed themselves in you, with König pushing all of himself past your lips and his head pressing against your cervix. They didn't care about the lew sounds, popping in and out of you. Not with them making you feel so amazing. " I'm-A-AHHHHH!" You could feel his cock's head pushing in and out faster and harder, a couple of thrusts of their hips. With a loud cry that tore itself straight out of your lungs, you spammed and squeezed around them.

You'd never experienced anything like this in your life, and it rocked you to your core. Underneath them, you were a trembling mess. Squeezing around them, feeling you tighten and flutter, was enough to induce them to cum inside you.

His hips were forced against you, and his cock was shoved in as far as it could go. As he poured hot ropes of sperm into your womb, his veins surged and his skull flashed. They were coming inside of you in ropes and ropes, and you were breathing heavily. Their cocks beat rhythmically with your constrictions, their testicles contracting with each spurt of come blasted into your small pussy and tight ass. There was so much of it that it started to pour out of you and onto the floor.

A haunting face

You were in ecstasy. You were warm, full, secure, and safe. You'd just had the most exquisite fuck of your life by the same enemy you were supposed to kill, and they were remaining inside of you as if they'd die pulled out of you. You've never felt more at home than right now, beneath both of them. You turned your head and kissed his cheek, despite his hood covering it.

You awoke in the middle of them, it was still dark, König's hand was wrapped around your waist, while Ghost's hand was wrapped around your thigh. You gradually broke free from their grip. You discovered your gun and jacket. You hand no pants or underwear, much to your dismay. Just a jacket, some equipment, boots, a hat, and socks. You gazed at the two men, your hat partially covering your face, but it wasn't gonna work. Ghost wouldn't mind if you searched through his belongings; after some searching, you discovered what you were seeking.

You discovered his balaclava. It was just like his. Everything was painted on the skull. His eyelashes were virtually white, and it was rather sad that your enjoyment had come to an end while admiring their loveliness. Because of obvious reasons,-Rusalka, why is your line off?- The person on the other end of the telephone chastises you. - ну да xpн, Vodyanoy.- [oh fuck off].

Vodyanoy placed his palm over his heart and added, -The love, am touched. I got you what you asked for.- He chuckled, knowing you had a scowl on your face. He was the one person you could contact and ask him to deliver your clothing with no questions asked.

Is she a lost embrace?

You did take some Vodyanoy and Leshy, as well as Chuma on occasion. They accompanied you when you went shopping for new clothing and even underwear; someone had to carry your luggage, and it wasn't going to be you. Vodyanoy was the only one who knew your exact measurements; it was actually rather amusing. He looked like a lost child the first time he went to the store to assist you pick out new clothes.

You could hear tires crunching on the snow as you walked away from the building. " I finally tracked you down. Get your ass in the car before you freeze. Short bitch." He chastised you like a child caught sneaking a cookie when they weren't meant to. As you move to the rear, you give him the middle finger.

You were finally warmed up again after changing your clothing. "Sooo… What fucked you over?" said Vodyanoy as he drove in silence. He wonders if the cold has finally caused you to lose it and go around nude. "As if you'd know." If only he knew, you retorted cynically. You snicker that he could be having a heart attack.

Somewhere across the sea of time

It was approximately 0700 when you arrived at the base. You could still feel hot ropes trickling down your leg. You were sore. Your entire body felt like it was made of cement, weighing you down. You were about to walk into your room, but life doesn't work that way.

The captain wanted to visit you in order to obtain an incident report. "Rusalka, what has happened to your face?" He inquired. Remembering the vivid moment when Ghost slutted you out on his dick and banged your face into the floor."Nothing, sir," you say as you avoid eye contact, "are your injuries better?" You shifted the topic on which he indulged.

You were surprised to learn that the higher-ups were relocating the nuclear weapons and reassigning the personnel in charge of them. You were disappointed, which meant you wouldn't be seeing them again.

"Rusalka, I was wondering where you found that?" Azhdaya inquired, pointing to his face to indicate what he meant. Oh, you reasoned. Ghost's balaclava, which you stole. "In an abandoned building. I like it," you stated casually while caressing it. It was silky and smelled like tea and dark wood. You were reminded of him, but you wouldn't tell them the truth. A tiny white lie will not harm.

You were curious whether Ghost had worn it before you stole it from him. You miss his touch, and you consider yourself addicted to them.

A love immortal such as mine

Ghost and König awoke at 0800 in the morning. He gazed about, feeling the lack of warm skin underneath him. König sprung to his feet, having awoken from an abrupt shift next to his body. He two saw someone was missing, and you were no longer there.

Everything about you had vanished, even your weapon and ripped clothes. It was almost as if you were a ghost that appeared for one night of pleasure just to vanish into the darkness. They went around the building but couldn't find anything, which is when he discovered it.

There was something in his thigh pocket, where his regular skull balaclava would be. It was a white hat. The hat that you wore when they discovered you sleeping in the corner. He investigated for any other missing items and discovered that his knife had also vanished.

As König and Ghost stood there grabbing and repairing their equipment, Ghost stated, " Clever girl." His dark eyes narrowed as he glanced at the hat he clutched in his fingers. If he gets his hands on you again, he'll tie you up and imprison you in his house like an animal.

Will come to me

Soon after, König and Ghost were picked up and joined the others. Price enquired as to why they had split up, but Ghost disregarded the question by adding, "We were surveying that area when a storm caught us." He side-eyed könig who nodded in agreement.

When they landed in England, the Price informed them that their plans had been altered by higher-ups. Laswell informed them that the weapons had been relocated to an unidentified location. And that, for the time being, they would do other things until they figured out where.

König's shoulders fell, and Ghost remained cool on the outside, but he was in turmoil on the inside. It suggested that there was a little chance they'd stumble across you on the battlefield. König hoped to see you again, to feel your delicate skin, and to hear your whimper as you unraveled. He urgently needed you, your cunt, all of you.

Ghost was disappointed because he hadn't completed educating you who was in control. And that you were nothing more than his to break and train as he saw fit.

Eternally

You'd met the two men a month ago. To say you missed them would be an understatement; you were ravenous for them to break you, make you their slave for their cock, to give you pleasure. But you'd never say it to their faces. You enjoyed the sight in their eyes when they believed they could control you, and you liked being controlled by them. win-win.

You submitted to training, gaining new skills and experiences. You even earned your nursing license. You had a good time mocking Chuma for getting into problems due to Leshy and Vodyanoy. He was like the group's older brother… getting hurt for the stupid things his younger siblings did.

Azhdaya summoned you to his office. You were aware of the situation. You submitted your application for a move in two years. You adored your team, but you felt it was time to go out to new waters.

"Are you sure?" Azhdaya asks, setting the papers down and staring at you. looking for any signs of unpleasant emotion on your face. "Yes, Sir." You formed a little smile on your face and nodded. " Alright. " He sighed and continued to talk to you.

Immortal she

It had taken two years, but the day had finally come. Tomorrow was your departure day from Russia for your new home base. The crew surprised you with a farewell party. Providing you with goodies that you may not find in your new home.

Leshy and Vodyanoy were sobbing uncontrollably. Leshy shakes you back and forth, imploring you, or rather pleading with you, to stay with him. Vodyanoy clutched your leg as if he were a kid, imploring you not to leave him alone with Leshy, and explaining that Leshy was this and that. You stroked his hair. You could have been the one who lost a screw, but Leshy was missing the box and the lock that held it in place.

You ate and drank as if there was no tomorrow. They dropped you off at the airport the following day. giving you a hugs and best wishes. - The flight from Moscow, Russia, to London, England, is about to board.- The announcement was made over the speakers.

König tapped his foot nervously. Ghost stared at him as he waited in line with his other 141 task members, giving him a supportive nod. They didn't know anything about the newcomer. They were meeting them for the first time today.

A vehicle was spotted approaching the base and slowing down before completely halting. The door opens, and a figure walks out, their h/c hair gently swinging in the breeze that blows past the base. They exchanged handshakes with Price.

When könig and Ghost turned around, they could only gaze as your s/c skin sparkled in the sunshine. The way your h/c hair complemented and framed your face, making you appear ethereal. Most importantly, the sunbeams in your eyes, causing them to glitter like a Dimond on exhibit for its beauty.

Return to me

"прывітaнне, я Русалка. It's a pleasure to meet you, " [Hello, my name is Rusalka.] You spoke quietly, offering your hand, never breaking eye contact with Ghost and König as you smiled at them. They knew, and you knew it wasn’t your first encounter with them.

To be continued......Maybe, if people like it.

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soapybutt17 · 10 months

Text

Light of My Life

Summary: The New Year meant new things for everyone in the Price Household. A not-so new face had also become an addition to the chaos if it all. Characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Price!Female Reader. John Price. Simon Riley. Soap MacTavish. Word Count: 3,146 Chapter Warnings: None A/N: @glitterypirateduck: here is part two like I promised. hope you enjoy~

Part 2 for Your Are My Sunshine

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open

“Why are you more nervous than me?” Kyle couldn’t help but point out the moment the car has stopped in front of a rather large farm house a few hours outside the city.

As Kyle stepped out of the car and gazed up the vast expanses of rolling green hills, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. You had always spoken about your family’s farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer grandeur of the place.

The farmhouse stood proudly at the crest of a gentle slope, its stone walls weathered by centuries of wind and rain. Ivy clung to its sides, giving it a rustic charm that was impossible to resist. A slate room crowned the structure, and a tall, stone chimney sent a plume of white smoke spiraling into the clear blue sky. The whole scene was like something out of a fairy tale.

You led Kyle up the gravel path that wound its way to the front door, and as they approached, he couldn’t help but notice the colorful flowerbeds that lined the walkway. Brilliant reds, purples, and yellows contrasted with the lush green grass, creating a vibrant tapestry of colors that he would have only seen in movies.

As you finally knocked on the door, the noise from the inside of the house halted. Kyle had only notice now in his amazement the array of voice that could be heard from the inside.

Opening the door, your father, Captain John Price, stood talk. A deep frown rested on his lips the moment his eyes met him as well as your own. The frown grew even bigger the first moment he caught sight of your hands holding onto his own.

“Darling. Sergeant.” Price had acknowledged, opening the door further to let the two of you inside.

That had somehow surprised him. The Captain’s reaction was the last thing you would have expected to give him at this point after hiding his relationship with his daughter and how he had downright lied through his teeth for well over a year because of it.

What surprised him even more was the sight of two familiar co-workers that also seemed to be just as surprised as the two of you the moment you step foot inside.

“What the hell are they doing here?” You questioned but your question was immediately tackled into a hug by your mother.

“You finally brought your boyfriend along. He’s a handsome fella too.”

Kyle was left stun by the short woman—shorter than you were which was saying a lot as you barely reached his shoulders and you were a few inches taller than her. But her height did compensate at how much of a firecracker she was as he was being pulled away from the pack of lion ready to devour him.

With the two of you dragged into the kitchen, Kyle was had come to realize that the apple doesn’t fall far from the three as she began her array of questions about your drive to the farm, and how meeting his parents had gone. All of which you had answered with the same enthusiasm as your own mother. The smile on your face return, Ghost and Soap being in the house was momentarily forgotten.

“I’ve dealt with your father and the two boys for you two. So you’re both safe from them for the rest of the night.” She winked towards him and he had let out a sigh of relief because of it.

“Thank you.” Kyle spoke. “I’m sorry for coming without notice.” He apologized being another mouth to feed for tonight.

“Nonsense. When I learned that Simon and Jonny were coming I’ve made food that is enough to feed the entire army.” She spoke as a matter of factly. “Besides, I am still hoping that my daughter would finally bring you along to meet us. I’m happy that she finally did—even if the circumstance isn’t on your end on this.”

Kyle nodded before turning towards you knowing the implication of his arrival.

“Now since I’ve pulled you two away from the chaos of the three boys still in the living room, why don’t you two head upstairs to your bedroom to freshen up, I’ll deal with your father for you for the time being.”

John Price was not happy one bit. Not even the fact that he was home for once for the holidays could brighten his mood. Not even the fact that all his children were in the same room or the fact that his own sets of children in the base were also here to celebrate the New Year could brighten his mood.

How could he be so blind to not see it?

His daughter that had been through so much growing up with a father that gave you so much empty promises that it took him years to even allow him to make his own and keep. The daughter that might not have been his blood but he loved just the same like the rest of his own. The daughter that he would die over and over again if it meant you were happy and safe.

How could he have not seen the way you look at his boy Gaz, the man that he had immediately taken under his wing since the incident in Piccadilly. The man that he had hope to be better than he could ever think of being in his career. The man that was torn and pulled apart for the war that had no beginning nor end. The man that he would take a bullet for if it ever come to it.

How could he not see the way you two look at each other the way that you did in front of him now?

“They look so in love. He looks are her just like how you look at me.”

His attention had turned away from the happy couple and turned to his own beloved. When he had first found out about you and Gaz making out in the parking lot for Soap and Ghost to see, he had a mind to drive straight to Gaz’s house just to beat the living shit out of the man, but his wife was godsend. Immediately putting her foot down at his plan and brought all the anger he had to a halt.

“I don’t look at you like that.” He muttered, refusing to admit as such—not wanting to be compared to Gaz at the moment.

“So you don’t look at me with love, John?”

“I didn’t say that.” He muttered turning his attention back to the pint of beer in his hand. “I have my own way of looking at you.”

“Like you want to get into my pants?” She teased him.

“I mean—” He trailed off with a smirk, earning a light slap onto his chest and the all too familiar giggle from her.

“You’re impossible.” She rested her cheeks against his shoulder, her eyes glued to the picture perfect sight of their daughter and his—Sergeant. “After everything we’ve been through, I never thought I would see the day that she’s happy with someone.”

“She had always said that she swore off men after what her father did to you.” John grunted, the memory of those words still haunted him.

How such a little girl like you back then had been forced to grow up and see that not everyone could be kind—not even your blood. It was a statement that had haunted them all for years. If he’s not as good as Daddy John, I don’t ever want to have any man. It was a revelations for him back then, not only how your mind works as a toddler, but how you had finally called him Dad instead of the Mister Price or Mister John. It was at that moment that he had vowed to himself that he would make sure you had everything you could ever want, protected from any kind of heartache that may come into your life.

“She ate her words.” His wife acknowledged. “Don’t be too hard on Kyle. You always said that he was a good man. What difference does it make now that he’s seeing our daughter?”

She was right. She was always right when it comes to situations like this. But he couldn’t help but still be the overprotective father to you. He could throw you into the deepest parts of hell for missions because he was confident in your capabilities, but this was different. To him, he couldn’t do anything to save you from any form of heartache that would come your way.

“I don’t want her to get hurt anymore.” John finally admits.

The boisterous laughter of his children and that of Soap filled the air, the way you had egged Soap on with Kyle as his kids tackled Soap to the ground. But his mind was still filled with the dread of such a possibility. He could not see himself being able to see you heartbroken all over again over a man that disappointed you. He did not have the heart to look at Gaz the same way if he decided to hurt his baby girl.

“We can’t stop that, John. You and I know that. All that we could do is be there for her if ever the time comes. But seeing Kyle, seeing him with our daughter, I doubt that would even happen.”

“How could you know?”

“I just know. You have to trust me on this.” She winked finally standing up and announcing it was getting close to midnight.

John’s eyes turned towards the clock. It was few minutes to midnight and the New Year. With one command from him for everyone to head outside for the fireworks. Everyone scrambled out, Soap and the kids dashing out and racing to see who would be first. It left John and his wife for a moment in the sudden silence of their home.

“I trust you.” He whispered to his wife as they walked hand and hand outside to everyone standing around waiting.

The crisp cold air immediately hand him pulling his jacket off and wrapping around his wife. He had also noticed the same gesture that Kyle did for you. His jacket wrapped snuggled around you and you beamed at him as thanks.

Again, his wife was right.

As everyone awed at the fireworks that began to explode into the air, his arms had wrapped around his wife, but his gaze shifted back again towards you, how you snuggled into Gaz’s arms, both of your gaze up towards the sky as everyone began to countdown to welcome the New Year.

10.

Happy New Year!

The dark skies burst bright from the fireworks, and he had pulled his wife in for a kiss. Well over two decades together, who would have ever thought that this would be the life he would have for himself.

“Happy New Year.” He whispered against her lips before his attention turned back to every single one of his family.

His children wrapping their arms around Simon and Soap as they wished them a happy new year, to his daughter that had her eyes close and forehead resting against Gaz’s own, words that he couldn’t read were exchange between the two of them before Kyle gave you a gentle kiss on the lips, the nose, and finally the forehead.

Maybe his wife was right. Gaz could make you happy again.

“Dad! We’re on holiday!”

Kyle couldn’t help but smile at your overprotectiveness for him and his sake. But for the past twelve hours, he was left unscathed at the hands of his Captain and the two overprotective older brothers you had earned in Soap MacTavish and Simon Riley. It was a win on his book but not something he would want to test.

So when his Captain had asked him for a quick walk out in the open fields the following morning, he did not even attempt to refuse the offer. But it did scare him that he had been adamant that Simon and Soap to not join along even as the Scot had insisted on it. He knew well enough to know that he wanted to talk, not as his Captain, but as the father of his girlfriend.

“It’s fine.” He tried to reassure you but the frown on your lips grew deeper refusing to break the glare that was still directed at your father.

“I agreed with your mother that I will not do anything during the New Year party, I never promised not to after.” Price had pointed out with a grin, it was his own little way of getting on your nerves and it was working far too well than even he would expect.

“You’re impossible, Dad.” You muttered plopping yourself onto the dinner table for breakfast.

Kyle turned to look towards your mother as she had placed a place of full English breakfast in front of you with an extra serving of eggs just like what you always liked. She shared a pointed look with her husband whose smile slowly fell before making his way outside to wait for him.

“Don’t worry about him, his bark is worse than his bite.” She had reassured but Kyle knew it wasn’t always the case. Working for him for as long as he did, his bite was all the more worse than his bark especially when he was certain it was for the greater good—greater good for this case was his daughter.

“I hope so.” Kyle joked, but the fear was all too evident in his voice.

Kyle had ignored Soap’s teasing as he finally made his way out of the house. His Captain was patiently waiting with his arms crossed against his chest. The moment he had noticed he was out, he began to walk and Kyle was left to follow him in silence.

It had been a five minute walk, the cool morning air a welcome companion to what he would expect would be a heated discussion between him and the man walking in front of him. All the anxiety of the secret he had hidden from him had continued to eat him up as the walk continued but he was afraid to start the conversation.

“Did she ever tell you about her biological father?” Price had began as they had halted by the herd of cattle by the meadows.

“Yes Sir.” Kyle responded.

It was the first thing you had ever told him early on in your relationship, how it had shaped the way to view relationships in general. He had know early on that there would be a possibility of what they had to be over before it had even started. He had thanked his lucky stars that it didn’t. Lucky enough that he could be everything you had hoped out of a relationship that you wanted and needed.

“Then I don’t need to tell you why I am not keen on having anyone dating my daughter, especially with someone that she works so closely with.”

Price had finally turned to look at him. Kyle had been all too familiar with the look. The stern cold wall that he used to intimidate any adversary that would even dare come their way. It was unnerving that he was directed with such a gaze instead of being in the background witnessing some other poor soul.

“Yes Sir.” Kyle agreed. “But I love your daughter, Sir. We have thought it would be best for everyone to keep in a secret until she was good and ready.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Over a year, Sir.”

“And what are you intentions with my daughter?”

Kyle took a moment, wanting to form his words carefully without causing more tension and chaos in their relationship going forward.

“I want to be the man she could depend on when she needs me to be. I want to be the man that could make her the happiest that she could be. I—I just want to be by her side whatever relationship it may be that she would want and need from me.”

He waited with bated breath as the Captain stared at him, scrutinizing his words carefully for all it was worth. Kyle was thinking that he was mincing his words and looking for anything that would incriminate him as insincere, but he was certain he would not find any.

“I want you to know, Sergeant.” He began. “That if I ever learn that you hurt her, in any shape or form, I would be the last person you should be worried about. You will worry for your career, for your safety, for your life if you even dare hurt a single hair from her pretty little head.”

Kyle gulped but nodded, knowing that this was no longer his Captain, but the father of his girlfriend that would drag him to the deepest parts of hell if he makes so much as a mistake of making you cry.

“But last night, when I saw her with you, she was the happiest I have ever seen. It was rare and far between when she was like it. The first time I’ve seen it was when I told her that I was officially adopting her as my own daughter. Those bright eyes that twinkled in a love she never thought she would ever deserve. I saw it when she looks at you.”

Kyle couldn’t help but smile at such an information. He know the look he was talking about, he was certain that he was giving you the same, a look that was even more in love and adoration for you and everything that you do for him.

“You have my blessing when it comes to your relationship, but just know that you will both endure a couple of weeks of intense drills for lying to me about your relationship.”

Kyle thought as much. He nodded shoving his hands onto his pocket and only now did he realize the small box nestled deep inside his sweatpants.

“I also wanted to ask you blessing for something, Sir.” He began pulling out the velvet box for the man to see.

The Captain took a moment to realize what it was before a chuckle escaped his lips.

“I should have expected this.” He shook his head. But agreed nonetheless.

It didn’t take long for their holiday off to end and everyone was back to their normal lives inside the base and in mission. It did take long for Kyle to propose, who would have ever thought that he would in the brink of death while you held him close to you.

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