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mckinlily · 1 year

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Whenever I see @breezycheezyart’s shallura art come across my dash, I have to physically restrain myself from reblogging it like 5 times in one day. Because I always reblog it, and see it again later on my dash—obviously—and. Every. Time. I’m like “wow, that’s so good!! I gotta reblog that!” But no. That’s MY reblog. From two hours ago. I can’t subject my followers to the infinite loop of my hyperfixation.

#breezy if you’re seeing this your shallura just makes me THAT happy every time #Amazing ✨✨✨#yes I could queue but consider: I literally never use that function

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luveline · 2 years

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. now friends, you, eddie and junie take a trip to the city. queue oreos with double the cream, a sock related mishap, a display of strength, storybooks, matching pajamas, a velveteen rabbit and a tray of cupcakes to eat on the drive home [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, eddie’s mom implied to have passed away, mention of past falsely presumed self-harm (not graphic, just baby eddie scratching a rash and wayne worrying), hair tourniquet + intense panic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie doesn't mean to come knocking. He's staring at the ceiling with an open tray of Oreos on his chest, chewing through the boredom of a Monday evening and the pain of an aching back when he thinks of you and Junie.

Toddlers like cookies, right?

He shoves his socked feet into poorly laced converse and turns out all the lights as he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, a rattling of metal ringing into the crisp night while he takes his steps two at a time.

He starts up the street to your trailer and slows as your home comes into view. The lights are on, the curtains open. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes closed, stretching to one side with your arms held high above your head. He can see the moment your back pops, see the tension of the day slip away just slightly. The exposed stretch of your tummy shines in the light.

You say something to Junie. He decides to stop acting like a stalker and bumps up your steps, hesitating at the door with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

What the fuck was he going to say? Hey, guys, I brought a half-eaten tray of cookies. Um. Because I missed you both? Sorry if that's weird?

"What kind of loser…" he scathes. He doesn't finish, bringing his hand to the door and knocking with a haphazard explanation waiting on the tip of his tongue.

You open the door a short few seconds later. You smile wide, wide enough to open the yawning gap in his chest all over again. Tonight when he goes home he'll have to close it like he has to so often lately after seeing you. Pretend his feelings for you – whatever they are – are smaller, less terrifying.

"Eddie," you say, and the gap stretches with how you say it, fond and warm and breezy. "Hey, where's your jacket? It's too cold to walk over here without one."

He doesn't have to explain himself at all, as it turns out. You open the door and step aside to let him past.

He grins at you. "Thought I'd brave the great outdoors without any armour."

You nod like it isn't all nonsense to you and maybe it isn't, maybe being friends with him is clueing you in to all his fantastical lingo. He likes you more for it either way, especially when you say, "You need a healing potion. It's freezing."

You're embarrassed at your attempt. Eddie can't believe how cute you are, lost for words and flailing. His chest warms with affection.

Junie saves you both, whizzing down out of the nest of pillows where she'd been buried on the couch and across the room with surprising speed and accuracy, barrelling for his knees. He grins as she wraps herself around them and starts talking.

It's mostly unintelligible until she says, "Hi! Hi, Eddie!"

He hugs her back with his hand. "Hi, Junie. Good evening."

"Good," she manages in return. She's all but mastered good morning and afternoon but evening continues to elude her.

"What were you watching? Your Muppet Babies?" He looks at the screen to find Kermit, the green frog, singing a song. "Been doing some singing practice for the band?"

"You want coffee?" you ask. Aforementioned healing potion. "I have decaf."

"I brought cookies."

"Warm milk it is," you declare, disappearing behind one of the kitchen cabinets.

Your bravado makes him laugh.

He finds his attention stolen once again by your lovely daughter when she complains, glaring up at him fiercely and coveting his hand. He balances the Oreos on your table by the door and offers her both, naked of their usual rings bar one.

Junie drags him over to her pillows and tries to climb back up. She refuses to let go of his hand, making it an insurmountable feat. Eddie awes at her efforts and helps her back into the nest, hands closing around her small waist and lifting.

He drops her into the pillows with just enough roughness to garner a laugh. "Sorry, my hands slipped. Hey, what's going on here, junebug? This isn't your usual hangout."

"I felt bad because she's always on the floor," you call from the kitchen. He can see your hands and your torso through the gap of countertop and cabinets. You pour milk into a pan on the stovetop and tap your fingers against the handle frenetically. He wonders if you're anxious about something.

Junie whines until Eddie sits next to her. As soon as he's situated she takes his hand again insistently and turns her attention to the television. He rubs the soft, small back of her hand with a less soft thumb and peers down the way at you.

"She loves the floor,” he says.

"I know," you mumble ruefully. A tad theatric. He must be rubbing off on you. "I had to bribe her into sitting on the couch."

"Yeah? What's the tab?"

"A few dozen kisses and all the pillows from my bed."

"Shame it wasn't half a tray of cookies."

"I think those might help me out."

After you've poured the milk into two tall glasses, you admit to him in a smaller voice that you're not sure if Junie likes Oreos.

"'Cos they're bitter?" he asks.

Milk in hand, you sit in the free seat next to Eddie and try not to sound as embarrassed as he knows you're feeling when you say, "She's never had them."

"I'll bring chocolate chip next time."

You shake your head vehemently. "You don't have to bring anything, ever."

"I like sugar."

You smile at him like you know he's trying to make you feel better, a touch shame-faced. He smiles at you in return and hopes it shows how much it doesn't matter – bringing snacks with him when he visits is hardly a generosity. You're friends.

He keeps trying to have that conversation with you, about sharing and money and all that terrible, embarrassing hardship that isn't embarrassing whatsoever but the words taste like chalk in his mouth.

Instead, he offers the hand that hasn't been stolen by Junie to you for a glass of milk. "One of those for me?"

You pass it to him.

"Why'd you feel bad? You're not forcing her," he says as he takes a sip.

"You don't think it looks cruel?"

"No way. She's one of the happiest babies I've ever met, who cares if she lies on the floor?"

"How many babies do you know?"

"One."

You're laughing when you say, "I don't know. I think it's a habit. But we have a couch, so she should sit on it."

Eddie retrieves the Oreos. Junie watches curiously as he peels open the tray, four rows, two empty and two full of black and white cookies.

He takes one and passes it to you without looking at you. Eye contact gives you the opportunity to reject it.

When he's heard the soft crunch of your first bite, glass of milk between his knees, Eddie holds an oreo up purposefully and twists. "See, Junie?"

He licks a big stripe over the vanilla cream. The cream spreads edge to edge as he pushes both sides back together. Softened by a generous dip in milk, he eats the cookie in one vagabond bite.

"You wanna try?" he asks when he's done.

Big hands over her small ones, Eddie shows her how to twist an Oreo open. She brings the cookie with the least of the cream to her mouth and bites it. Her pout wobbles in mild disgust. Eddie tries not to laugh.

She has to like Oreos. They're a staple.

"Let me show you," he says gently, taking the cream heavy side out of her hands. Dark crumbs stain his fingers as he holds it up to her face. "You gotta lick it."

She doesn't want to, evidenced by her wrinkled nose and untrusting gaze.

"You'll have to do it for her," he tells you gravely.

Moving to kneel in front of him, you take the oreo out of his hands and lick it before stealing back the half of the cookie Junie had been munching on and squishing them back together. You dunk her sandwich in milk and press it to her lips until she deigns to take a small bite.

"Yummy?" you ask.

She takes the cookie back, a mess of dark black mush collecting at the corners of her mouth as she eats it.

You gaze up at him from the floor. Your eyes look damn pretty, more so when he offers the tray to you, your smile a beacon. "I haven't had Oreos since I was a kid," you say excitedly.

"Do they taste like you remember?"

You rest your hand on his knee and lean in. "They need more of the filling," you say secretively.

"Yeah?" Eddie's in motion, twisting one oreo apart and then another. He takes the halves with the most cream and pushes them together.

One oreo, twice the cream.

You giggle as he passes it to you. "Oh my god." You're giddy, arm heavy on his thigh.

You eat it like it's something crazy expensive, all smiley and indulgent. You look so pleased that he immediately starts to make you another.

"Eddie," you protest, covering your mouth, "don't, don't waste them."

"I won’t waste them. I like the cookie more than the cream,” he lies.

"Oh."

You finish your oreo. Eddie can’t find it in himself to be modest about it; you’re smiling and it’s his doing and that fills him with pleasure.

He watches you mistreat his jeans as you chew the second, your fingers pulling distractedly at the rips. You tuck your hand underneath, white threads tensing over your knuckles and fingerprints brushing over his kneecap, your entire face cringing as a thread snaps from the pressure.

Eddie looks away quickly. He can feel your eyes on him and has to bite back a smile as you assess if you’ve been caught.

You could ruin them completely for all he cares.

Junie makes happy noises beside him. She’s realised the middle of the Oreo is the sweetest and has split one open in her hands. A terrible mess ensues, cocoa powder fingerprints smattered over the pillows she’s buried in and vanilla cream marring her nose in a sticky line.

“Could you make any more of a mess for your poor mom?” he asks. The rhetoric is lost on her; she says something cheerful and holds her hand out for another cookie.

Her face — expectant, small, cute, all of it evokes an uncontrollable urge to do whatever it is she wants him to do.

“Is that, like, a kid thing?” he asks.

You pull your fingertips away from his skin and cock your head. “What?”

He splits an oreo and offers Junie the cream-heavy half, clarifying through a mouthful of dark cookie, “Following her every command.”

You sit at full height. He instantly misses the heat of your front to his knees, the way you’d draped yourself over him familiarly, and is wondering how he might begin to convince you to do so again as you think it over.

“I don’t know. Maybe. It might just be a Junie thing, but I guess that’s immature to think. S’pose it’s hormones or something. Like when cats meow.”

He giggles at you. Hormones? Cats?

“What?” you ask, half defensive, half sheepish.

“I just- I love it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?”

He shrugs and takes another pull of milk to think of a way to say, Well, when you’re tired you get nonsensical, and it’s charming how confident you are but hard to follow without offending you. Is there a way to say that without offending you? Or worse, without revealing every wretched feeling he has for you?

“I sounded pretty stupid,” you summarise.

“No! Never. I love that you think like that. That you’d think about cats meowing.”

“They do it to manipulate us,” you explain.

He can almost see the heat of an embarrassed flush radiating off of your cheeks, the press of your lips so endearing he almost leans forward to feel it. He can imagine it, his thumb over your mouth, the pad pulling down your bottom lip.

There’s an arrogance in thinking you’d let him.

“Jungle cats, tigers and lions and stuff, they don’t meow,” and you’re still going! He has to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from bursting. “Because they don’t need to. They have no idea what a baby sounds like, and they don’t need us to take care of them so they’ve never learned how to meow. Babies are like that. We hear them crying and we want it to stop.” You have a smile on your face that says, I don’t know if what I’m saying is true, but I’m gonna pretend it is. Pretend with me?

Eddie’s all about pretending. “Cats are master manipulators,” he eggs you on, "but you realise not everyone wants babies to stop the way you do? Some people just don’t like babies.”

“That’s okay. More babies for me.” You lean out to tap his forehead. “Touch wood.”

“What?” he asks.

“Touch wood,” you repeat. “I don’t actually want more babies right now, don’t wanna jinx myself by saying it, so I had to touch wood. You don’t have that superstition?”

“Are you saying my head is made of wood?”

Your sudden laugh is stunning; he can’t bring himself to be offended.

When Junie's had more Oreos than she should've and the milk's all gone Eddie stands up before you can do it yourself and takes the empty glasses with him, putting them on the kitchen counter with a click.

He grabs an almost empty pack of wet wipes off of the top of the refrigerator and sits down next to Junie, talking fast in hopes of distracting her.

"I got a call last night," he begins, pulling a wet wipe from the pack and taking Junie's wrist into his hand. He doesn't use the wipe at first, tryimg to convince her that this is all affection. "The phone went ring ring," he rolls the sound around, "and I was thinking, who the heck is calling me so late?"

He plays up his outrage but keeps a huge smile in place as he works his thumb into Junie's palm, tickling in circles.

"So I answer the phone, and I say, who is this? And you know who it is?"

Junie waits, looking like she might be close to laughing. And he's just getting started.

Eddie takes a deep breath. "Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here! Is this Junie on the other end?"

What his impression lacks in accuracy it makes up in enthusiasm.

Her little mouth opens. He wipes the corners with the wet wipe and then her chin. "So I said, no, Mr. Frog, I'm Junie's neighbour. I'm Eddie.

"Kermit said, you can call me Kermit, thank you very much. Mr. Frog was my father."

You snort beside him. He tries not to look at you because he knows your happy face will stop him in his tracks, your laughter enough to make him smile and break character.

He squares his expression and begins again. "I need to talk to Juniper, it's very important." He wipes down her sticky hands, her stained fingers and palms, worse than smug when she doesn't complain and pull them away. "I said, I'm sorry Mr. Kermit but I can't put her on, she's all safe and snug in bed with her mom. And Kermit said, oh, okay. Well, please tell Junie this."

Junie's looking up at him, surprised, very pleased, practically wiggling in her seat. She's lovely. Just like her mom.

He doesn't want to do the voice for this part, struck with a sudden sense of awe. "She is… the smartest, most prettiest, loving little girl in the whole world."

Eddie beams at her and drops her damp hands. When he impersonates Kermit this time, he's trying as hard as he can. "I'd only like her more if she were green!"

You're clinging to sanity.

It's Wednesday, it's washing day, and you haven't managed a single load of clothes since you got home because Junie won't stop crying. This isn't new; babies cry constantly and toddlers aren't much different. But, it's been three hours. She's too old for colic.

Junie has screamed, she's sobbed, she's slapped her tiny hands into your chest. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you, she's just communicating her panic. That doesn't stop the growing distress.

You're terrified.

You've found yourself in tears, too.

"Just tell me, baby," you plead.

It's useless. She screams so loud her voice cracks, and you decide that nows the time. You have to go to the hospital.

You don't think you can let her go long enough to strap her into her car seat. Immediately, you think of Eddie. You don't even lock the door. The small walk to his house feels a block long.

He must hear her crying as you approach because the door swings open just as you mount the first step. You backtrack.

"I'm really sorry," you say quickly, knowing this isn't something he ever signed up for. "I don't know what to do, she won't stop and I think there's something wrong." Your voice wobbles.

There's a huge flash of something akin to the panic you're feeling over his face but he pushes it away, descending the steps two at a time. His hand immediately comes up to your shoulder, fingers curled into your shirt.

"Chill out," he says, more stern than you've ever heard him. It’s surreal to see him turn like that. Almost like he’s become one of his characters, the voices he does for Junie’s story books.

You take a ragged breath.

"I'm serious. You need to calm down. You understand?"

Junie gives a blistering shout and your face crumples. "Eddie," you say.

"Can I hold her?" he asks, softer.

You can see in his face that he isn't sure, that he's out of his depth, but you're so desperate for a life raft that you nod and squeeze your eyes closed, passing her into his waiting arms. Everytime she cries – every wicked intake of air and every subsequent bellowing sob makes your chest ache. You have a splitting headache. Honestly, you're worried you might fall over.

"How long has she been crying?" he asks, looking over her face and shoulders with a perplexed frown.

"Hours. At first I thought she was tired or- or hungry but I've tried everything, Eddie, everything."

"She was like this when you picked her up?"

You nod.

He pats her back, the other hand rubbing down one of her legs soothingly. "Did she hurt herself?" He's looking at you without an ounce of judgement.

"Not- not that I know of." You'd looked under her shirt and trousers already. She doesn't have a single bruise.

He starts to walk back towards your home. You don't follow at first and he reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you along as he says, "Come on, sweetheart. We'll go down to Hawkins general, yeah? Just to be safe."

"Yeah."

Junie screams. "It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, again and again and again. He doesn't hesitate, his voice velveteen.

His hand stays on your arm until you're by the car. He's never done a car seat before and you can tell: he tucks her into it with infinite care but can't work out how to do the buckles. You laugh wetly and then feel very guilty. wiping your face with one hand before ducking down to do them yourself. Junie glares at you as you do, still very much crying and now incensed at being strapped in.

You stand back to take her in and push your thumbs across her wet cheeks and under her snotty nose uselessly, feeling so sorry for her, so guilty. Why can't you work out what's wrong? Why can't you fix it?

Eddie stands by your side, waiting.

“You got it,” he encourages as you pull back. "You're okay."

You smile weakly and then narrow your eyes, the two of you seeing it at the same time – Junie reaching desperately for her sock.

You peel it off with shaking hands and feel another hot shock of tears. There, around one of her toes, is a tourniquet. The skin is swollen but looks unbroken, darkened by blood

You smile because Oh my god, this is what's wrong, and then you panic twice as much as you had before, because Oh my god, her tiny toe.

"Eddie, I need- I need something. I need a- a nail scissors or-" You drag your hands down your face, in the thick of it. Adrenaline or cortisol or something must race through your veins, your hands shaking with it.

Eddie pulls you back by the hem of your shirt. "We can't cut it away. You'll never get the blade under that- What is that? A hair?"

"Yeah. A hair."

A lightbulb moment. You brush past him and almost fall up the steps back into your trailer.

"Stay there," you say without any explanation.

You step over the mess you'd left behind and barrel into the bathroom, clipping your shoulder on the bathroom door and slamming onto your knees.

You're lucky you have it, a tiny pot of hair removal cream in an old makeup bag under the sink. Resisting the urge to kiss the lid, you rush back out to the car where Eddie holds one of Junie's hands in his. He looks an impossible mixture of worried and relieved when you reappear.

You elbow digs into his chest as you lean over, opening the cream and smearing a line over Junie's swollen toe. She whimpers and shouts and tries desperately to get out of the carseat and, to your devastation, away from you.

"What is that?" Eddie asks from behind you.

"A hair remover."

You wipe the delapitor clumsily into your only good jeans so you can take both of Junie's arms into your hands. She doesn't want to be touched but you need to be holding her, at least a little bit.

"How long does it take?"

"I'm not sure… Not long. If it doesn't work we'll still have to go to the hospital."

Eddie pushes his hands into the top of your back in answer, his fingers curling either side of your neck like he might give you a massage. You shudder as he pulls you against him, as his fingers trace an invisible pattern.

Junie looks up at you both. Her wounded expression loosens. Maybe she's realised that you've figured out her problem, maybe she's just glad to be looked at. Either way, she subdues.

The hair removal cream's acrid smell tickles your stuffed up nose. You sniffle and Eddie's fingers work into your neck lightly, a silent and unwavering It's okay.

You don't see the hair snap so much as you see the pressure wean. You smother a sob, your relief palpable as you pull your shirt sleeve down to cover your hand and wipe it away. Junie shrieks.

You take the hair between your nails and pull.

"Oh my god," you say, holding it up between you.

Everything feels a little bit hazy after that. Eddie rubs your shoulders placatingly before encouraging you away from the door so he can unclip Junie and pull her out of her car seat. He guides you away from the car and back into your trailer, over the mess and into the kitchen.

You sit heavily in a battered kitchen chair. Eddie stands in front of you, Junie on his hip and a frown warping his pretty features. She grizzles, less when he sets her down in your lap carefully.

"Is that okay?" he asks softly. Then, when you nod, "Are you okay? You look like you're gonna pass out."

"I don't feel well."

"No, I bet you don't. Take it easy."

You pull Junie's leg up to examine her foot. Her toes are covered in hair remover still. "Could you get me the baby wipes, please?"

"Sure can. It'll cost you, though." His joke falls a little flat. You try to smile anyhow, your little huff forcing a last tear. You blink until it's gone, aggravated with yourself.

After all, her toe looks better. Sore, still swollen, but better. Though you could just be seeing what you want to see.

Eddie tries to pass you the baby wipes but your hands are shaking too badly to take them. Without a word he opens the pack, kneeling on the floor in front of you to wipe down her foot tenderly. His eyebrows pinch together when she whimpers, and he murmurs a sorry, "I know, I know."

You're trying very hard to calm down.

"All done," he tells her, parentese in play. "You are so brave, junebug. You're the bravest little girl I've ever met. That's why me and your mom decided you were Juniper the Brave, and you proved us both right."

He taps the tip of a ring-heavy finger under her chin. You watch from over her shoulder. "Really brave. You did a good job, the best job ever," he praises, tilting his head to catch your eye as he says it.

You smile at him the best that you can. He holds your gaze for a weighted second and then drops it back to Junie. "Do you feel better?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, only tips her head against your chest.

Eddie pulls off her remaining sock and waves it at her. "Don't need this."

"Do you think she'll throw up if I make her some dinner?" you ask, the kind of question you don't usually get to ask someone else. A luxury to defer judgement.

"Maybe. Does it matter?"

"I don't want to clean up puke," you say pathetically.

Eddie softens. "I'll clean it up if she pukes. Don't worry about it."

You don't have to, you want to say. Of course he doesn't have to.

"Thank you," you say instead, feeling like you could burst into an entirely fresh wave of tears.

Again, he looks up at you. His smile fades from a cheesy exuberance to something sweeter, a melty-warm thing that has your breath catching.

"I'm really sorry for just showing up like that," you say tentatively, flushed with heat as you realise what you've done.

"Don't be."

"No, because she's- I know you never-" She's mine alone. You never signed up for this. You can't make yourself say it, distracted by his ever-growing smile. "I should've handled it on my own."

"Your mom really doesn't understand how much I like her," he tells Junie humorously, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "She doesn't have a clue. How much I like you," he adds, hand on your thigh, his finger stroking a line down the length of her leg.

"You didn't have to-" You try, stopping again as he huffs out of the side of his mouth.

His hand closes around your thigh. You can feel the heat of each of his fingers, the bulk of every heavy ring.

"It's okay. I promise," he says seriously.

"I got so freaked out, I just…" You give up. Whatever. He knows what you're trying to say. Hopefully.

Eddie leans forward to kiss your knee. His eyes close, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly over your thigh.

You blink to yourself in a vain attempt at processing what's just happened when he asks, "Do you still feel sick?"

"No.” Your chest burns.

"In that case, I'll make dinner. A feast."

Things start to feel better. Details sink in. Your heart slows. What was only Eddie behind the stovetop becomes his dark hair scraped up and wrapped in a hair tie, his sweatpants and unlaced shoes, his white t-shirt with sharpie writing all over. Sounds filter in; the spoon scraping the bottom of the saucepan and his frenetic humming, the sound of his rubber-bottomed cons squeaking over linoleum.

Junie doesn't cry so much as whine. You press kisses that are more for you than her into her hair and on her forehead, jogging your knee. She's fine. She's okay, and she's here in your lap, and there's nothing to panic over now.

You try to push away the lingering worry. In the moment, a million thoughts had coalesced into only one. What if she's dying? Meningitis, an aneurysm, cancer. Anything. And now those thoughts fall away, leaving behind only the sharp smell of the hair remover and the salty stick of tears.

"Do you think I have time to give her a shower before dinner?" you ask softly, clearing your throat for what feels like the twentieth time today.

"You got it. I'll simmer. You could have one, too, if you want."

"Do I look that bad?"

"Worse." He grins at your expression. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful as always, sweetheart."

You carry Junie into the bathroom. There's no tub and she's too big for the kitchen sink, so a shower it is. You stand her up under warm spray and turn her back so the spray misses her eyes. She smiles at the warm water running down her back. The relief to see her happy can't be understated. You hop in at the same time and clean her off, wash her hair, and bedeck her tiny features in big big kisses.

Wrapped in her baby towel – a pink poncho type thing with a hood – you walk her to the bedroom and dry her off as fast as you can.

"Which ones?" you ask, holding up two pairs of pajamas.

Junie points at the pink shirt and bottoms printed in bright red strawberries with light green tops, letting you dress her and plonk her at the end of the bed without any fuss.

"No socks for you," you say lightly, sitting beside her in your towel.

"No socks," she agrees.

Even though Eddie's been good to you, you can't help wishing that he wasn't here. What you want more than anything in that second is for Junie to be asleep and for your head to be wedged firmly under your pillow, the sheets to your shoulders, dead to the world.

Not truly dead, of course. But a minute of silence.

Junie doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, sitting in companionable silence and stillness with you. Her head falls onto your arm.

"Are you tired?" you ask quietly, too exhausted for bubbly talk.

She sighs. You sigh too.

Eddie hums from the kitchen.

He kissed my knee.

You think you might have imagined it, if you're honest. It could've been anything against your stockings, the brush off his palm or the back of a warm knuckle, but you'd seen it. His lips, his face turned toward your thigh.

"I think he likes me," you tell Junie.

She doesn't say anything. When you look down at her she's already looking up, eyes wide with confusion.

"He kissed me," you whisper, leaning down. "I don't know about you, junebug, but I only kiss the people I care about. For a long time, that's been a really short list." You bump your nose against hers.

You've just finished getting into your own pajamas when Eddie calls out, "Girls? I know ladies like yourselves need longer to get ready but the mac and cheese is acting weird."

"Weird?" you mumble, hooking your hands under Junie's armpits. You'd let her walk if you weren't worried for her foot.

Eddie has created a working man's feast, three identical plates heaping with food. Hills of mac and cheese topped with bacon bits take up half of each plate, fried broccoli and collard greens the other. They're golden, almost red with spices.

"You can cook," you say, surprised.

"Don't sound so shocked," he says defensively. He can only hold his facade for a moment, deflating. "I really can’t. I tried to copy what you do, I've seen it enough times…" He shrugs and flops down into his usual chair. "Don't tell me if it's gross."

"I doubt it's gross."

You can't be bothered for the high chair. Junie looks like she might be too tired to move so you take the chance and sit her between you and Eddie behind the smaller portion (though using small at all feels like a lie, he's made a lot of food). She can barely see over the table.

"Did you use two boxes?" you ask, picking up Junie's spoon.

It's all the perfect temperature for a baby, maybe a little cold for an adult. You're so happy to have somebody else cook for you that you'd die before you complained.

He taps his nose. You pass Junie her spoon.

"What do you mean?" You tap your own nose in imitation. "I'll know when I look."

"So don't look. Eat."

You eat. Without asking him too – because you wouldn’t, you never do – he starts to feed Junie.

He might be the nicest boy on this whole damn planet. You look at him thoughtfully. How come we always end up here? At the kitchen table?

He looks right. Too right. He looks like he’s meant to be here, smiling and talking to your baby in hushed, fond tones, airplaning roasted broccoli towards her mouth.

“You’ll stay to watch a movie?” you ask later, trying to hide how lethargic you are with your hands deep in dishwater.

Eddie wipes a fleck of water off of your cheek with a rag. "Duh."

On the couch, Eddie sneaks a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re pretending to watch the TV and doing a bad job, your attention stolen over and over by Junie where she sleeps in your lap. Your hand rubs over her small, distended tummy, the other holding her foot carefully. You keep glancing at her toe, much less swollen now and with a healthier complexion, though a cruel line remains from where the hair had cut into her skin.

You don't touch it, only looking. He worries as a wrinkle appears between your eyebrows.

Listening intently as he is, he can hear the hitch in your breath. Eddie doesn’t want you to cry again — the first time had been awful enough. Your face covered in tears, coming fast and panicked. It was like you’d hardly noticed you were crying. You’d been so scared that Eddie, despite knowing close to nothing about babies or how to make them feel better, had clung to his calm. He’d stomped down every flicker of panic that had surged and tried his damn best to keep a level head.

Now, with your sad face and the crisis averted, Eddie feels a pang of terror. Just one. You are completely out of your element, Munson.

You’re definitely the kind of friends now that can sit on the couch together and not care too much about personal space. Eddie uses this to his advantage and spreads his legs just enough to brush his thigh against yours. You look at him and hide your lingering upset with a small smile. It’s a far cry from the genuine happy grin he’s become familiar with, but you're still beautiful.

Eddie shuffles across the couch toward you until he can push his hand under your arm. He pulls it to his chest, beware of your tenuously sleeping daughter, and hugs it.

“I was thinking,” he starts casually, looking down at you.

Your eyes crease with a playful smile. “Oh yeah?” Like you can’t believe it.

“Yeah, I was,” he says, quiet so as not to wake Junie but extremely passionate. “What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?”

“Nothing." You laugh under your breath.

He glares, faux-offended. Any real offense is swallowed instantly by the sound of your laugh.

“Hm. Anyway, I was thinking,” he begins again, hand running down your arm in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, “that I’d head into the city this weekend. Go to the bookstore ‘n’ the big goodwill by the bus station. I was hoping you’d wanna come with me.” Is he pushing his luck? Maybe.

You look like you want to say yes, but, “Eddie, I don’t really have the money.”

“I’d pay.” He tries to sell it before you can protest. “I’m asking you to come. Stealing your Sunday. We’d leave early, get breakfast on the way. I don't want to go alone.” I want your company.

He tries not to show how terrified he is that you’ll say no.

“I can’t- I couldn’t let you pay for us,” you say, eyes on his chest.

“Can I tell you something?” You nod. “It would make me… really happy if you did.”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t think there’s a way to tell you that won’t involve unveiling his new and shiny feelings for you, feelings that don’t seem to want to slow, or abate, or moderate themselves. Honestly, he doesn’t want them to.

He wants you to be happy. He wants to take care of you.

It's embarrassing in its intensity.

You reach over Junie to wrap your hand around his bicep, though you still don’t look like you’re going to say yes.

He leans in close, tracing the details of your face with a greedy kind of curiosity. “You wouldn’t let me give you anything for the haircut,” he says. “It’s the same, you know? Doing things for the people you care about."

He says it like the idiot he is, all rough and insincere, like caring about people is dumb. You smile anyways and finally, finally, give him a nod. So small it’s near imperceptible.

“If you’re sure,” you say.

“Positive.”

Eddie looks good behind the wheel of your car. The wind whips at his hair, curls that had been neat and pretty only an hour ago now starting to frizz. You think the chaos of it suits him.

He’s singing along to the radio and it’s a song you don’t know. You don’t think Junie knows it either, but she’s signing it like she does, hands flailing in the air and Mr. Bear bouncing in her lap with the force of her dancing. Eddie looks at her in the rear view mirror, beaming brilliantly.

“Yeah, sing it, junebug!" he encourages. Her voice peaks.

You laugh and stretch your hands out in your lap, knuckles brushing the sandwiches you’d packed. You’d let Eddie pay for gas, you might even let him buy Junie a book from the bookstore if he’s feeling generous, but you’re really trying to keep his expenses low. Hence, sandwiches. Even now, the idea of him spending money on you makes you feel guilty.

Deep down – deep, deep down – you want him to. You’re hoping he’ll pick up a book for you, and that fills you with so much shame you have to look away from him, your face to the window. The highway blurs past, the early morning sun lighting the blacktop and bouncing between cars of all kinds coming into the city for a Sunday outing.

Eddie turns down the radio a tiny bit and reaches across the seat to squeeze your shoulder. “You alright?” he asks without looking at you.

You tip your head toward his hand. His rings bite into your cheek.

You’re in the car on a nice day with a nice boy and your pretty baby listening to the radio, the sun at your side and the breeze kissing your warm skin.

You’d even managed to find a nice shirt to wear. Today is a good day. You won't weigh it down with silly feelings.

“I’m great.”

He gives you that smile like he doesn’t believe you and his eyes go back to the road. “Can a guy get another sandwich or does he have to beg?”

You imagine what it might be like to lean over and kiss his cheek. He deserves a good kiss, you think, and then wince as heat blooms from your chest up to your cheeks. You can’t hold in a pleased smile as you click open the Tupperware.

“Do you want PB&J or bacon and lettuce?” The tomatoes have already been accosted by a ravenous Junie.

“I’ll have half of whatever you’re having.”

You weren’t going to have one, and you both know that. You offer him half the PB&J and he takes it, eyes flitting between you and the road. You take a showful bite to release him. He gives you a grateful smile in turn.

Chewing, you take half of the bacon and lettuce sandwich into your hands and pull it apart. You divide the contents and tuck half into one slice to make a quarter sandwich before leaning over the seats to offer it to Junie where she waits in her car seat. She accepts it hungrily.

One-handed, Eddie pulls the car off of the highway. “There’s a parking garage somewhere around here,” he tells you.

Once he's found it he jumps out to go pay. You turn in your seat and smile at Junie. She's mauling her sandwich, face smeared in butter.

"Are you ready for some fun?" you ask.

She looks at you curiously.

You try again, really smiling. "Are you excited? We're gonna go find a book, something fun like Red Cat, Blue Cat, and we're gonna see the stores and the people and maybe mommy can get you a new teddy."

A spark of something. She gets happy when you're happy and today's no exception, her tiny features soon plucked up with joy. When you round the car and open her door to wipe down her greasy fingers and face she barely cares, and she receives your loving kisses with a big smile.

Eddie returns with the parking ticket and slides it onto the dashboard. You leave Junie's door open now he's back to pop the trunk and unfold her stroller. The sound echoes through the parking garage and the sun struggles to find a way in, your arms wracked with goosebumps.

"Hey, junebug," you hear Eddie murmuring.

He messes with the buckles on her car seat until they pop open, his triumphant laugh almost as pretty as his face. Junie's is prettier, your daughter laughing up a storm as Eddie scoops her up and sits her on his hip.

He looks like he had when you first met but with ten times the confidence in holding her and a clear affection. Her hands are in his hair like usual, petting and pulling gently.

"Brush out the tangles for me," he tells her seriously, bumping the door shut.

She hums like she's agreed to his task and continues her exploring.

You hang the baby bag over the stroller's handlebar and Eddie sits her in the padded chair.

"Junie, have I told you how pretty you look today?" he asks, pulling the straps over her shoulders and from between her legs. He uses parentese like you would, distracting her as he locks her in. When the lock click, he plays affectionately with her hair. "You're like a princess. Your mom has talented hands, huh? And a good eye."

Pleasure from his compliment drips in thick and fast. You bite back a smile and squeeze the clean baby socks in your hands, waiting for him to stand so you can fight them onto Junie’s feet. Ever since her ordeal you’ve been waiting as long as you can before putting on socks and shoes. The first thing you do when you pick her up from daycare is take them off.

If Eddie thinks you’re overzealous in your fretting he hasn't said anything. He holds his hand out for the socks and you give them to him, nonplussed though you shouldn’t be as he bunches them up and pushes them over her wiggling feet with patience and bemusement.

“Stay still… Do you want frostbite? Or gangrene?” he asks her.

“Eddie.”

“Sorry." He looks at you guiltily. “In my defense, she doesn’t know what gangrene is.”

“It’s weird, though. To hear you say it like it’s a good thing. S’creepy.”

He squeezes the sole of one of her small feet and stands, much too close to you as he whispers cheerily, “Gangrene. Septicemia. Pneumonia.”

You laugh and push him away from you. “Shut up.”

“You first. Where’re her shoes?”

You procure them with a smug smile. “You’ll never get them on.”

His fingers brush yours as he takes them, his eyes blazing at the challenge.

“Will you sulk all day?” Eddie asks you.

The sulking is for show. You frown like you’re really angry and tighten your grip on the stroller, the wind ruffling your clothes. After a moment the facade falls away and you smile at him, unable to hide your reluctant affection any longer. “How did you get her to sit still like that? You vex me.” Said with equal parts envy and pride.

“I vex you,” he says, voice coloured by good humour.

He’s fallen into step beside you, your jacket tied around his waist.

You should bring your jacket. In case you get cold, he’d said.

I don’t want to carry it, you’d said.

Don’t patronise me.

You glance over the top of the stroller to make sure Junie’s blanket is still in place. She’s quiet. You’ve decided that she’s in shock to be somewhere that isn’t your home or the daycare.

“Yeah, you vex me. Infuriate me. I’ve been a mom for two years and I can’t get her shoes on without a fight, and you’ve been-“ You stop dead, stutter, and quickly adjust what you'd been saying like it has been a slip up of the tongue rather than a thought you shouldn't entertain. “You’ve known her for what, three months? And-“

“Four months,” he corrects, sounding much too proud.

“Four months,” you amend. “And you can do all this stuff that took me years to work out.” You’re a little bit vexed for real.

He nods like he’s considering what you’ve said before tipping his head. “But…”

You wait. He doesn’t further his point. “But what?”

“Well.” Eddie brushes something off of your arm. “I guess I have a great teacher, right?” His voice hikes up high and he steamrolls, “I just copy you. You didn’t really get to copy anyone.”

You feel something melty hot in your chest, another affection for Eddie to add to a growing list. “Oh.”

He takes your shoulder into his hand and you draw to a pause, his other hand pointing off into the distance. “There’s the bookstore.”

You follow his finger. Across a landscape of cobblestone, situated firmly between a Domino’s pizza place and a cafe with a peppering of metal wrought tables stands Morgan’s Books. To your surprise, it’s a glass-fronted building with a big clean sign made up of red, yellow, and blue. It's a children's bookstore.

Eddie has obviously tricked you. You turn to glare at him and find him very close. He doesn’t shy away and you try not to in return. You try, but something about his pretty mouth so close sends shocks like pins and needles to your hands and you have to keep walking lest you embarrass yourself. His hand falls from your shoulder and trails down your back. You swear you can feel even the last millimetre of his fingertip before it falls away.

You get a good look at the landscape ahead and your eyes narrow. Eddie almost bumps into you when you stop abruptly.

“What?” he asks.

"There’s, like, a thousand steps.”

“Gross hyperbole," he argues. A gap of quiet furthers your point; while you had been exaggerating, there are a lot of steps, and he needs time to take them all in.

“Is there a way around?”

“Don’t be dumb, sweetheart. You’ll grab June and I’ll carry the stroller.”

“It’s really heavy. Heavier than it looks.”

He grins like a fiend. “I’m strong.”

Junie’s more than happy to be released, less when you take her into your arms and won’t put her down. You help Eddie snap the stroller back up, indicating which lever to pull with the rubber toe of your converse. He kneels down to guide it into place and looks up at you swiftly afterward, self-satisfied and much too happy considering the task afoot.

“Maybe we should find another way.”

“Y/N,” he says, like your name is inherently funny, like a joke rolled around over his tongue, “I’m starting to get offended.”

You blow air out of the side of your mouth.

Eddie slugs the stroller under one arm and holds it tight with the other, giving you a very determined smile. “Ready?”

You balance the baby bag over one shoulder and start on the stairs. Junie's heavy but she’s a heavy you’ve grown used to, and she doesn’t complain enough to warrant any stress.

You’re impressed when Eddie takes each step at your pace and doesn’t break a sweat. “I thought you were a bus boy. What do you bus? Weights?” you ask incredulously.

He laughs. “I don’t bus weights, but amps are heavy, and I’m not a big shot. I don’t have any roadies to carry them for me.”

You feel terrible then for forgettting. Right. He plays music, you think. You’ve never once seen him play any music, on stage or at home. You’ve seen him play guitar over Junie’s leg to tickle her and tap out a rhythm when he’s heating up desserts in your kitchen, but you’ve never seen him play guitar for real.

“Is that going okay?” you ask, ignoring the small burn beginning to grow in your arms.

“Bussing? Sure. Why’d you ask?”

“Not bussing, music. I never ask- I’ve never asked you how it’s going.”

Eddie winces as the stroller starts to open and pulls it tighter under his arm. It takes him a few seconds to calibrate what you’ve said, and he’s quickly reassuring. “What? Why would you worry about that? You have enough to think about without adding my moonlighting at the Hideout.” He says the Hideout like it’s something to be looked down on. You almost trip up a step and Eddie can’t do anything but watch. “Careful," he begs.

You keep your eyes on your footing until you’re at the very top, worried you'll fall flat on your face and get Junie hurt.. Eddie comes up two behind you and puts the stroller down, wiping his hands together dramatically.

“Conquered. Great job, team. Especially you,” he says, poking Junie’s cheek.

She puts her arms out, vying for his attention now she’s had a taste. He raises his eyebrows at her and offers his arms. You hand her over eagerly, arms aching. You can’t imagine what his feel like.

“I care about it,” you say firmly. It rather than you, but it rings the same. “I want to know, Eddie, I swear. I’m sorry for not asking.”

He looks up from where he’d been making playful faces at Junie to stare at you. It’s not a mean stare, but it unnerves you all the same.

She pushes a hand into his hair like she always does and starts to try and pull her fingers through it. It’s knottier than usual because of the wind, and she struggles to make sense of it. His eyes fall to her tugging.

“Sweetheart,” he says slowly. You know it’s meant for you, even if he’s not looking at you. "If there was something worth telling you, I would’ve told you. I don't doubt that you care.”

You don’t feel better. “No, ‘cos-”

“Why are you so upset?” he asks genuinely.

You hadn’t realised your face revealed the extent of it. “Because we’re friends. You’re the- the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He smiles, sudden and wide. “I’m your best friend?”

“Like we’re twelve?” you deflect.

“Yeah, like we’re twelve.”

You ignore him and try to cool down. A hot flush attacks your skin as you stretch out the stroller and click the supports back into place, shucking off your baby bag to hang over the handlebar with a relieved sigh.

Eddie moves Junie to one side. You anticipate his touch before it happens, his free arm behind your back and pulling you to him. “We’re totally best friends. I’m your best friend,” he says smugly, hand curling around your shoulder. It’s a good hug, friendly and warm and heart-racingly close; you can feel his chest on your back, the curve of a pec through thin fabric.

You turn toward him indulgently but keep your head down. It’s so nice to be hugged that you can’t make yourself move away.

He rubs the top of your arm, the bump of his rings biting into your skin. “You don’t deny it?”

“No. I don’t deny it.”

“Hear that, June?” Again, he calls her June. Not Junie or junebug, June. You like the way he says it. “I’m your mom's best friend. I win.”

You nod happily, warm under his touch.

Wait. “What?”

“She likes me more,” he teases her childishly.

“Eddie!”

“What? Am I wrong?” He leans away from you and feigns confusion.

“Yes! Of course you’re wrong! That’s my baby. Give her to me right now." You join in on his melodramatics, grinning even as you continue, “How could you say that? Sicko."

“That got frosty quickly,” he grumbles, holding her away from you.

You move in to plaster Junie in kisses. Not apology kisses because you didn’t say anything wrong, but kisses all the same.

“Can I get in on one of those?”

You huff at him. He bursts into boyish laughter and holds his hands up. “Kidding!”

“Should we go?” Before you say something stupid.

Eddie carries Junie and you push the empty stroller until you're all looking up at the store's bright sign. "This is where you wanted to come?" you ask him, eyes falling to the window where a sign brags a children's reading nook and their Read Before You Buy promotion.

He shrugs. "Bookstore's a bookstore."

"No, this is for kids. We're never gonna find what you wanted in here. I doubt they have King of the Rings between Red Cat, Blue Cat and Pony Girl."

"King of the Rings," he repeats jovially.

"Whatever it's called."

He pulls a squirming Junie higher up the length of his chest, the fabric of his shirt rides up with her. You pull it down. You're flustered enough, his naked skin is the last thing you need.

"Sweetheart, I'm sure they'll have what I want," he says flippantly, pushing the door open with his elbow.

"If you're sure…" you say, following him in

The bookstore smells fancy. You breathe in the scent of plastic wrap and paper, your eyes searching over floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and pyramids of craft kits. Box sets of Enid Blyton and A. A. Milne sporting classic, whimsy spines are stacked in a towering and precarious looking arch. Signs on either side promise a children's wonderland inside. You follow Eddie around pen displays and jigsaw puzzles, ducking under the archway with an awed, "Oh, wow."

"Watch out," he warns quietly, taking a step down into the kids' reading nook.

You bump the stroller to the bottom of the steps and have to stop, amazed.

Junie is a picture of you as Eddie sets her down, gazing around the room in shock. There's a lot of older kids scattered throughout on big circle pillows with books in their laps and a guardian beside them, but the real wonder is in the decoration. The walls are bedecked in murals; Kermit and Funnybones, The Very Busy Spider and the mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Junie sees Kermit on the walls and gasps, running up to the painting with wide eyes.

Eddie follows her without saying anything. When he catches up to her, he offers her his hand. She takes it. She's practically shouting, their joined hands restless as excitement courses through her in waves.

You find two big pillows and a couple of books for Junie to look at. The three of you take to an empty corner and sit, looking over a big picture book full of stills from The Muppets Take Manhattan. Junie makes a lot of excited sounds and nonsense words, talking very confidently though half of it's lost on you both.

"Kermit," she says, pointing at the page passionately.

You wrap your arms around her tummy to keep her comfortable and hum. "Yeah, baby. Kermit, Miss Piggy, Gonzo. They're going to New York," you start to describe the page.

Eddie leans in, his arm pressed to your arm, his skin a heat where it rubs into you as he helps hold open the book.

The further you read the closer he gets.

Junie gets bored quickly, like toddlers tend to, and wants to go look at the walls again. Eddie stays with the stroller and you pick her up to let her touch her hands to the characters.

"That's Spot," you tell her quietly, her fingertips brushing over flat fur. "Spot the doggy."

Junie's never read anything Spot before. He's a popular character. There's three picture books to choose from. You pick up the first, Where's Spot? and offer it to her.

She likes the look of him. You carry her back to your pillows and struggle to sit back down in the tight gap between the wall and Eddie's knee. He stretches his arms out to take her. .

"What'd you find, sweetheart?" he murmurs as he balances her on his thigh.

He reads to her. He has the voice for it, soft and sweet.

"We had sandwiches," you argue, two hours and what feels like fifty stories later.

Eddie had known before he suggested it that you were gonna fight him on this. He’s managed to end up behind the stroller, weaving between unlucky bystanders as his eyes search for somewhere to eat.

“And they were awesome."

“Eddie,” you complain softly.

He peeks at you by his side, grinning at the plastic bag full of books you’d insisted on carrying where it dangles from your fingers.

You take his smile for teasing and sigh. “Come on. I’ll make dinner when we get home.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I love your cooking that’s hours away. We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Look, there’s a McDonald’s right there,” he says, pointing toward the yellow ‘M’ sign where it flickers, breaking up a white sky.

“I’m not hungry,” you say. He senses your proposition before you offer it. “But if you wanna get food, that’s fine.”

“You don’t like McDonald’s?” he asks.

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Just think of it like- like using the bathroom before a long car ride. You might not need to, but it’s never a bad idea.”

Inside of McDonald’s, Eddie can tell how unhappy you are, your eyes drifting to the menu and your fingers squeezing both handles of the plastic bag.

He parks Junie’s stroller next to a low table and you slide into the booth beside her. He doesn't sit right away.

“You remember what I said?” he asks quietly, leaning on the table with one arm, head inclined to yours.

Your eyes flicker between his face and his arm. You measure his gaze “Doing things for the people you care about,” you say, equally hushed.

Eddie reaches out to squeeze your wrist. “Exactly.” He tries not to squeeze too hard in case his rings dig into your skin.

When you smile, he grabs the high chair and transfers one unhappy toddler into its constraints. There's a little basket of crayons and colouring papers near the registers that you plunder while he orders. By the time he gets back with a greasy tray of food and drinks Junie's made a masterpiece.

"Is that supposed to be me?" he asks brightly.

Of course it isn't – there's a shock of blue and a red blob almost shaped like a heart next to the dark printed outline of Ronald McDonald. It's worth the risk of sounding like an idiot because you start to laugh so hard you can't scold him for the desserts.

After wiping down the highchair's tray with a baby wipe, you peel open Junie's cheeseburger and start to break it into small pieces, blowing on each one vigorously before passing them over. You're about to start on fries when Eddie flicks your hand.

"Eat," is all he says, swiping her fries out of your reach to copy your process.

Tray laden with an abundance of bite-sized fast food, she grabs a cheesy looking slice of burger and screams loudly.

Eddie gawps. "What was that? Is it too hot?"

You swallow a sip of your drink and the cup sheds condensation like a spattering of raindrops when you put it down. "I think she's having a really good day," you say..

"Well fu-" he amends his cuss word quickly, "-dge, me too, junebug. Best day out ever. We got books, burgers, and I'm with my two favourite girls."

It might have sounded more romantic if he hadn't said it around a mouthful of big mac. You look almost as happy as Junie does anyway,

When Junies just about finished you carry her off into the ladies to change her diaper and freshen up. You have a baby in one arm and a bag full of diapers and bottles and onesies in the other, and you stare into the mirror and can't work out Eddie's angle.

Eddie is loud and crude and clumsy. He smells like his close friend Mary Jane half the time and he doesn't know how to style his hair. He laughs loud, sings louder. Almost everything about him is unapologetic and brash, his dark looks and ripped up clothes, his van, his smile.

And he's nice. He's so nice. Down to the bone, maybe down to his soul, there's a kindness that floors you every single time. He smiles and he squeezes and he says sorry for things that aren't his fault. He helps without being asked. How many times now has he knocked the door, found you kneeling on the living room floor folding clothes and thrown himself opposite you? Bet you I can do double what you've done in five minutes flat. Or stationed himself at Benny's for lunch to check you're having a good day? Here's five for the pretty waitress I saw earlier, make sure she gets it, won't you? How many times has he, hair limp and clothes rumpled, burst beaming into the kitchen with enough dessert for a family of five and a gallon of juice? Why wouldn't I get a gallon? Junebug'll have drank half by the time you sit down, sweetheart.

You look at yourself in the mirror and you can't work out why.

"Hi, girls," Eddie says when you return.

He's cleared off the table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Like this, the lean trim of his waist is emphasised, as is the slight curve to the tops of his thighs.

"Hi," Junie says. You echo her greeting.

"D'you have fun? Powder your noses?"

"Can't you tell?" you ask. You did not powder your nose.

He straightens up and peers at you assessingly. "Definitely. S'like you got prettier, and I thought it was impossible." His voice is sugar sweet by the end, attention on Junie. She's aching to be put down and writhing in your grip, but his voice catches and holds her attention until you're back outside.

It's cooler. The air cleaner. You put Junie down and clasp her hand firmly in your own, bending at the waist to tell her face to face, "No running off, alright? You hold mommy's hand tight." You squish her little fingers until she giggles. "Okay?"

"Okay," she says.

"Okay, thank you." Then, because she looks so sweet and this has been one of the best days of your life, "I love you."

You kiss her cheek.

Eddie won't let you push the stroller. "You concentrate on little miss trouble," he says mildly, kicking the brakes with a frown. "I got this. Maybe."

Half a block to the goodwill. It's not as big as you'd expected but there's a fun furniture section that draws Junies attention. You're reluctant to let her climb on the furniture in case anything is dirty or infested, though you do sit her in a wicker chair for a tree swing and a huge velvet loveseat like she's goldilocks, asking, "How's that? Comfy?"

Hidden away, there's a bookshelf painted green and pink that threatens to topple over hiding a grandfather clock still ticking. You lift Junie up so that the three of you can look at the clock face, a small silver disk with illustrations on either side. A gorgeous swelling of purples and melty blues in a ring behind the man in the moon. The sun, a buttery yellow buffeted by white-blue clouds.

"Grand," Eddie praises.

"What did you want to come here for?"

He grins at you and nods his head to the left. "It's over there."

'It' ends up being a clothes rack longer than your trailer home partitioned by size. Every t-shirt different but bragging the same premise – band merchandise. A riot of rock bands peppered in popular duo's like Tears for Fears and the occasional Cyndi Lauper tour shirt, each one sticking out like a sore thumb; a rainbow array besides faded blacks and slate greys.

"Why'd they have so many?"

Eddie shrugs, though he tries to explain his theory anyways. "There's a venue maybe… four blocks away? That has these vendors outside all the time shelling knock-offs."

"So these are knock-offs?"

"Most of them. They're usually in good condition though."

He's right. You find all kinds of shirts in varying qualities. Some obviously real, thick fabric and perfect prints. He picks up a Judas Priest tour shirt that he claims to be the real deal, a Metallica long sleeve that most certainly is not. There's a Twisted Sister shirt with a mysterious brown stain and a Ghoulie Girls muscle tee that's almost completely split down one side.

You shuffle through the things in your size, absent-minded. Junie's not interested in the slightest and is starting to complain. You fend off an oncoming tantrum with a pack of fruit snacks, offering them to her one at a time.

Eddie whistles where he's standing a short distance away, "Oh, fuck."

He unhooks a hanger and holds it out, amazed. "Oh, shit."

"Eddie," you chastise. Not because you care, but Junie saying either of those words at daycare would suck.

"Sorry, sorry. You like these guys, right?" He holds up a t-shirt for The Mamas and The Papas, a group from the sixties. It looks new.

It's the only cassette you own where you can stand to listen to both sides all the way through. "Yeah. Like Cass Elliott's stuff more."

"Who's that?"

You point at Elliott on the shirt. "Her."

"Guess how much they want for it," he demands.

You think. Junie whines for another snack and you give her the packet. "Ten dollars?"

"A dollar." He passes the shirt to you so you can see it for yourself and leans down to bundle up your sighing daughter. She can't decide whether she's enjoying it for a good few seconds, her annoyance at being somewhere this underwhelming for so long clear but fading as Eddie shushes her gently. "Isn't that sick?" he asks you.

"It would be sick, if you liked them."

He shrugs. "I'll wear it as pajamas. A dollar for a shirt? You can't steal it that cheap."

You laugh and drop it into his basket. He bumps his shoulder into yours until you move down the rack, his fingers searching for something with focus. You're in awe at how he's handling it, a basket heavy in the crook of his elbow and Junie on his hip trying to share her fruit snacks with him unsuccessfully.

"Ah-ha!" He pulls out a black t-shirt. The back to you, you can't tell what's so interesting about it until he flips it around. "What do you think?"

It's the same The Mamas and The Papas shirt.

"You want?" he asks.

You check the price tag before answering and find yourself laughing gleefully, almost smug. "Hey, this one's fifty cents."

He gasps. "What?"

"I can afford that one myself."

He pulls it out of your hand, quick but not cruel, and tucks it into the basket. "Don't care. Wanna see if they have one in Junie's size?"

"They won't."

"What about a small and we cut the excess off? She can wear it like a dress. We'll all match."

Eddie picks up a bunch of t-shirts for you, some funny, a lot plain bad. You wonder if you're being made fun of but from the gleeful expression on his face you know he's just having a good time. It's sweet, really, how he seems to pick the more feminine looking ones for you. You try your best to calculate how much he's spending on you – it feels tacky and silly, but urgent – and end up losing the thread. He must've passed ten dollars by now. It makes you feel sick.

You see your saving grace across the way.

"Oh my god!" you feign surprise. Both Eddie and Junie look up at you, startled. "You know what mommy just saw?"

Junie perks up.

"What did I just see? What did mommy see?" you encourage.

"What?" she asks.

"I saw… teddies!"

"Mr. Bear?" she asks.

You beam at her. "Mr. Bear's brothers and sisters, I think. Should we go look at them?"

She says yes and then something else you don't catch, squirming aggressively to be put down.

Eddie says, "Sorry sorry sorry," and lets her down gently.

She snatches your hand and starts to tug you away. You glance over your shoulder to make sure Eddie's following you and he is, a melty-warm smile on his face. You navigate the store floor and almost knock down a bucket of hats with the stroller on the way to the teddies. There's a few of them, all lined up in a row next to jigsaw puzzles and old board games.

"I didn't think this through," you say, watching as Junie picks through the teddies with a huge smile on her face. She starts to hug them towards her and you try not to cringe.

"You can scrub her when we go home," Eddie assures you leaning against the stroller, hair behind his ears.

You grab the end of a curl and pull it back in front of his face, messing with it until it falls the way you want it to. He stays very still. "I might need to de-flea her."

He laughs and it's a shock, an abrupt sound that makes your chest ache with fondness.

"You might. I got some tea tree oil lying around somewhere if you need it," he says.

"And if she gets dermatitis?"

His grins turns embarrassed. "I don't know what that is."

"It's like-" You tilt your head to the side to mimic his own and drop your hand from his hair. "It's gross. Like a bad rash."

"Oh, then we'll give her a tomato soup bath."

You burst into laughter and have to grab his arm to stop from toppling over, or at least that's what you tell yourself. "That's for skunks," you manage to tell him, giggling loudly.

"Shit, really?"

You nod at him, wanting to kiss the sheepishness straight off of his lips. "You're thinking of an oats bath," you say. "Oats are good for the skin. And milk."

"So we just rub her down with oatmeal. Case solved."

Your hand rubs over the curve of his forearm until you reach the cold bite of his chain bracelet. It brings your attention back to what it is you're doing. You pull your hand away.

You have enough money to get Junie any teddy she wants. You'd made sure of that. You'll just have to hide the train in your tights and wear your waitressing skirt low on your hips for a week or three until you can afford a new pair of pantyhose.

You move to kneel next to Junie. She's pulled every teddy off the shelf and sits half-buried in them, talking a hundred words a minute. You think she might be make-believing, catching the slightest difference in her tone as she shakes one bear and then the other.

After checking the price tags stuck sloppily to each ear, you realise you can afford two.

Best day ever.

"Junie," you say with intent, heavy so she'll look at you. "I want you to pick your two favourite bears. Yeah? Pick which ones you like the best. And we're gonna take them home, okay? Give them a bath, brush out their fur, get them some jammies."

Watching the way her expression changes as she realises what you're saying is confirmation. This is the best day ever.

She decides eventually on one too many. There's a pastel green-blue rabbit with floppy ears and a ribbon tied around his neck, half a face of whiskers that make him quite charming and a worn tail. Next to him is a classic teddy bear who could be Mr. Bear's younger brother who seems in very good condition. Last, a bigger, softer golden teddy with an enamel nose and eyes lies over her lap.

You can't afford all three.

You've barely opened your mouth to tell her, a weak smile on your lips ready to placate when Eddie says, "The rabbit is classic. You'll have to let me get her that one."

"Eddie," you say, looking up at him as you shake your head, "you can't. I can't let you."

"She'll have to share him with me, obviously. He's punk rock."

It's the least punk rock plushie you've ever seen.

"Eddie," you say again, quietly.

He scoops the hair away from his face like he's going to tie it up. "Y/N." He says your name expectantly. When you don't budge he lets his hair fall back to his shoulders and turns serious. "You can pay me back, if you want to."

"Really?"

"Only for the rabbit."

You purse your lips to fight a smile.

Junie throws herself into your lap with her new treasures. "For the rabbit," she parrots factually, gazing up at you with eyes full of content. Her small smile means everything.

"He's a bunny," you murmur, fingers brushing his rough ear.

"He's sweet." Eddie crouches in front of you. He smells like something nice though you can't think of what it is. Cologne, something dark and deep hiding under a woody scent. Maybe sandalwood. His knee taps your thigh and his hand wraps around your shoulder for balance. "Got a dirty nose though. Who does that remind you of?"

You giggle and tap Junie's nose. "I wonder."

Down what feels like a thousand steps and back into the parking garage, your legs are hurting in the best way and Junie's half asleep in her stroller. You'd reluctantly let her keep the blue-green rabbit in hand, and she snuggles him close to her chest.

"I'm actually genuinely worried she's gonna get something from him," you confide.

Eddie weaves his arm through yours. "Like rabies?"

"A rash."

"I'm allergic to gain detergent tablets," he says, his hand slipping away from you so he can put both on his hips. "When I moved in with my Uncle Wayne he didn't know that, obviously, not at first. We didn't notice for a while. One day I'm scratching my chest and he says to me, boy, what are you doing always itching like that? You ever take a shower?" He impersonates his uncle's disappointed frown.

You laugh. "Poor baby."

"I mean, I probably wasn't showering." He laughs. "I was like, wow, thanks Uncle Wayne, I love you too.

"He lifts my shirt up in the middle of the kitchen and we both just stare at this rash. It was the first time I'd really noticed. I didn't… I was a skinny kid, I didn't really find any pleasure in looking at myself. And- He got so serious. Asking me if I was okay, if school was stressing me out."

"He thought you were hurting yourself?"

"In a way… It wasn't the first time he tried to get me to talk about how I was feeling, but it was the first time I thought- I mean, the first time I realised that it was permanent. That we were-" He cuts off with a laugh. "I'm being weird."

"No weirder than usual," you tease. Your expression softens.

You slow, trying to convey how much you want to hear it with a smile. You don't want to say something that'll weigh on the impossibly light mood you're both in; the ground practically glows yellow under your shoes, the two of you walking on sunshine or something remarkably similar.

"I guess I realised he was gonna take care of me. I told him all about school, stuff I'd been lying about, how the Walton twins kept taking my lunch money, how I was failing algebra. How much I," he licks his lips and then smiles, "how much I missed my mom."

"Do you still miss her a lot?" you ask, though you know the answer.

"Yeah, I do. I don't remember everything, but I remember the way she talked sometimes. I don't remember her voice," he concedes, "just… the way she moved. She would lean back whenever I was getting into trouble, and she'd get this look on her face like I was the funniest thing on the planet."

You grin at him. Your cheeks ache from what must be a hundred smiles today. It's a really nice memory to have.

"You are pretty funny," you say.

"What was that? You think I'm pretty and funny? Baby, you spoil me."

You stop altogether and press your fists into your eyes, defeated. "I should've seen that one coming."

"Yeah, you should've."

Soft snores, so quiet you almost miss them. By the time you've got back to your car Junie's sleeping with her chin to her chest and the rabbit's ear held tight in her small hand.

"Will she wake up?" Eddie asks quietly.

"Not if I'm very, very careful," you whisper.

You scoop her up and tuck her into her carseat, holding your breath all the while. Eddie tries his best to fold down the stroller.

You emerge from the backseat and make a soft pitying sound. "Stuck?"

"I can do it," he promises, head and face hidden behind the padded seat. His hands fight with the metal bars holding it in place. Again, you tap the right strut with your shoe to help him out.

He says thank you but refuses to look at you. You swear you're gonna kiss his cheek this time for real because he deserves one and you really want to give him one, but he puts the stroller into the trunk and touches your waist as he opens the driver's side. Any bravery gets turned into mush.

He rolls down the window and sticks his head out, ever amused. "Are you coming?"

You pause at the door and get closer than you mean to, close enough to find yourself distracted by the beauty mark along his jawline.

"You want me to drive?" you ask.

"No, sweetheart. You're good."

You smile at each other. It's a strange sort of smile, strange to be taller than him, strange to have your faces this near. There's a lot to say but maybe now isn't the right time to say it, or maybe now is exactly when you should, and his face lifts up just a touch and your hands feel heavy at your sides.

"Eddie…"

You close your fingers over the door, braced as his body turns to yours. You get the sense that he's waiting for you to say – or do – something. To lean down. To take the leap.

He's the prettiest boy you've ever seen.

You waver.

"You know," he says lightly, blinking his long lashes at you in a way that has your heart skipping beat after beat, "if we hurry, I think we can get on the highway before the work rush. We'll be back in Hawkins before dark."

You bring your hand to his cheek. A sorry and a thank you at the same time. "I don't want to be back in Hawkins before dark." I really want to spend more time with you.

"I'll crawl."

You press your lips together, tongue in your cheek to stop from giggling like a loser as you walk around the hood and climb in. He turns the key in the ignition and switches off the radio before it can wake up Junie. True to his word, Eddie goes what must be a half a mile an hour out of the parking garage. The car behind you beeps aggressively.

Your eyes flicker between the rearview and his grinning face. "What are you- oh."

"Crawling," he murmurs smugly.

The sun starts its slow descent. You use his knee for leverage and pull down his sun visor, then your own, blocking the light. Eddie says, "Thank you," very sweetly and you get comfortable and clip yourself in, anticipating a long drive home.

The stores turn on their neon, fast food and take out restaurants open for the night. The smell of warm oregano and olive oil is strong as you drive through the side avenue past a pizza place with its door thrown open.

Eddie asks if you're hungry and you decline. He takes it with grace and doesn't say much besides passing commentary until you realise he's going the wrong way.

"Eddie," you start.

"I know. Just- one last thing. Let me get one more thing and then we'll go home and you never have to let me spend money on you ever again."

You look over his pinched, pleading brows and his slight pout for any insincerity and find it in droves. "Until Friday," you say, dejected.

"Now you're getting it."

He pulls up to a small bakery and weasels his way inside. You wait, car idling, hands rubbing over the cracked leather of your seats wondering what sweet treat he's going to emerge with.

You have a nightmare – a heaping bag of donuts and shortbread and pastries, things you could never pay him back for, more to add to the impossible pile of things he's given you.

Doing things for the people you care about, you repeat to yourself wearily.

You hadn't expected anything for the haircut, but this is more than a haircut. It's difficult not to think of every dollar as an attribute of every hour he's worked. What makes you deserving of his literal physical labour?

I didn't force him. He likes me.

He certainly looks like he likes you as he appears again, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans and wielding a flat looking plastic platter with an exuberant expression. He almost drops them trying to show you. Your heart shoots into your throat.

He's still chuckling when he throws himself into the driver's side. "Shit, did you see that? Almost lost 'em. Here, sweet thing. Hold the sweets. Makes sense, right? Sweet thing holding sweet things."

You accept the tray of what looks like a rainbow of blobs and go to peel off the lid. "Can I?" you ask.

"Of course you can."

You pull off the lid. Twelve cupcakes of all different colours in rows of four. The first four are chocolate cupcakes, one with green icing shaped like a frog, one with a white rabbit, one with an orange fox and one with a blue fish. The second row seems fancier. By the third and fourth row there's no pattern, just an assortment of flavours and decorations, chocolate curls and glitter, a half a strawberry, a smattering of mini marshmallows.

"What flavours that one?" you ask, pointing at a golden cake topped with multicoloured icing, a swirl covered in little crystal like sprinkles.

"I don't have a clue. I picked the first four and then realised it was taking too long. Told 'em to give me whatever."

"Eager to get back?"

"Eager as a cry for life. Try it."

"You don't want one before you start driving?" you ask.

"I'll try that one after you."

You peel back crisp, metallic shiny paper and take a cautious bite. It's a bourbon vanilla cake with a coffee flavour buttercream to cut the sweetness. You can't tell whether you like it or not at first, so you take another bite.

"Leave some for me."

"Sorry!" you say through a giggly mouthful. "Here."

He has both hands on the wheel. You don't know what possesses you – though you're starting to wonder if it can be called possession at all, more like a hunger that won't let things lie – to do it, but you bring the cupcake up to his face and hold it so he can take a bite.

He licks a big dollop of icing as it threatens to fall down his chin, head tilted high. "Oh my god. What is that? Is that coffee?"

"I think so."

"Okay, awesome. Let's try another one."

"What?"

"Let's try another one. There's still eleven left! We can save the cute ones for Juniper the Loveliest, but that's still a ton of flavours. C'mon, let me try the one with the chocolate curl. If I remember, it has white chocolate melted inside."

"If you remember?" you ask, peeling back the paper of his requested cupcake. "You've had these before?"

"A long time ago."

You tilt your head toward your shoulder and watch his lashes kiss. "Here," you say warmly.

He accepts the proferred cake and takes a good bite. His eyes roll back into his head dramatically and he goes stiff, shoulders tense and then suddenly not. You watch the muscle of his bicep flex as he tips his head back in pleasure.

You chortle and you're so happy you don't care how silly you sound, nor how unattractive you might look as you hit him in the arm. "Stop! You're enjoying it too much!"

"I'm enjoying it the right amount! Try it, try it," he says quickly. His eyes flick back to the tray. "I wanna try that strawberry one next."

"Watch the road, Munson, god! I'll pass you whatever one you want, just don't crash the car!"

You forget yourselves. Laughing, eating icing with your noses scrunched up, you don't remember to stay hushed, and soon Junie's awake and annoyed.

You worry for a second that her crying will dampen the mood, but Eddie beams wider still. He's more smile than boy.

"Junie baby! What cupcake do you want, sweetheart?" he asks her, watching her in the rearview mirror.

"Cake?" she asks.

"Cupcake! Yeah, baby, what one do you want? There's a froggy and a fishy and a bunny-" He stops to take a turn onto the highway. The road evens out underneath, the plastic tray stops crinkling. "And a fox," he finishes. "All for you."

You twist in your seat, bunny and fish held in your hands. "Fishy or bunny?" you echo.

"Fishy and bunny," she says clumsily, eyes widened with excitement.

"Just one for now, baby. Let's pick the bunny," you say gently.

There's no hopes of her eating it cleanly. You don't bother with any precaution. It's your car and her seat and her clothes and if she wants to cover it all in soft fondant you don't mind, anything she wants if you get to see this look on her face. Pure happiness, her eyes closing in bliss as she takes her first bite.

"Good, huh?" Eddie asks, speaking glances at her.

"Good!" she says loudly, cheeks plastered in white icing and fluffy golden crumbs.

Then, like the good girl she is, she tries to offer up the cupcake and almost drops it.

"S'that for me? Aw, you keep it. You keep it. Mom's gonna share hers with me." He grins at you. "Isn't that right?"

You share that entire tray of cupcakes right there in the car. By the time you get home, back to Hawkins, it's dark, your stomach hurts, and every cupcake bears two missing bites.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | multi-chapter

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x afab reader #mom!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader

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sapphixxx · 4 months

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there's a lot of reasons more people aren't into yuri that are troubling to consider, but equally, I genuinely think it cannot be understated how much of it comes down to most yuri being boring as hell. Like truly. I've been reading the front page of Dynasty Scans like it was the newspaper for 15 years I am not exaggerating I can show you the download file data 15 years.

You know what the complaint about yuri by yuri readers was back in 2009?

"wow that really was just 5 volumes of them blushing at each other and then they don't even kiss"

You know what the complaint about yuri by yuri readers is today in 2023?

"wow that really was just 5 volumes of them blushing at each other and then they don't even kiss"

Don't get me wrong, Yuri has grown a LOT in that time, to the point that most people today wouldn't even understand a Maria-sama reference if it were dropped in front of them (thank God). It's expanded and evolved to encompass more stories about adult women, wider varieties of scenarios, a greater acknowledgement of real life lesbianism, and is more comfortable showing girls kissing with tongue and having sex.

Yuri Manga is maybe the best is it's ever been, and it's also getting the widest readership it's ever had in the English speaking world. The titles we carry at work are always on back order with long queues, and, when I've asked them, most weebs of all gender or sexualities report keeping up with at least a few Yuri series.

At large though? Most of it is still really boring. That's not a bad thing necessarily. I like it because it goes down easy. For the most part any series you pick is gonna be pretty chill. Even shit from Sal Jiang which is PRETTY EDGY for yuri is a pretty breezy read. More serious ones like How Do We Relationship? cover some pretty real subjects about how intimacy is actually quite difficult even when both of you love each other, but it's not like... Exciting. Yuri isn't where you go to pump your fist or get perched on the edge of your seat.

So when the comparison is made to yaoi, well, I mean, have you READ any yaoi? Even in some of the more restrained titles those boys are likely to be sucking and fucking balls and all within the first volume or two. There's gonna be drama, intrigue, shit is gonna get messy, passions are gonna get heated, clothes are gonna be ripped off, people are gonna get sold to One Direction, it's stuff you can sit down with a bowl of popcorn with you know? Stuff you can message your friend and gush Hey Can You BELIEVE? A lot of it is pretty trashy, but that's the appeal. The generic state of yaoi is torrid and exciting and sexy. Ultimately, as a species many of us like to see pretty people fuck. In yaoi you'll get that. In yuri you won't. Nothing wrong with that, but it is gonna be a major contributing factor to their relative popularity.

It's also worth making the comparison to hetero romance manga, which has undergone a renaissance of it's own in recent years. There's now a whole meta around crafting a handful of mean shitty grouchy dysfunctional bully women and flinging them at the protagonist of the day who, unlike in years past, may actually have a face and personality. Most of these are also very trashy and truly scrape the bottom of the bucket in terms of writing.

AND YET?

I would bet money on the fact that you'll have heard of these women and probably even have a good idea what they're like without ever having touched a page of their manga.

I'm sorry but the straights are whipping donuts around the yuri girls in terms of delivering a wide variety of weird compelling fucked up women. How many yuri leading ladies by comparison can you point to as standout recognizable characters even divorced from their story? There's definitely a few, but not many. I'm not talking quality or depth of writing, I'm talking straight up pure recognizability. There are many beautifully written women in yuri, now more than ever. I can't think of many who'd like, get a figure made or have their face splashed on merch, though.

I don't really have a conclusion here. I love Yuri a lot, but at the end of the day this is just kinda the state of things right now.

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wanderingaldecaldo · 15 days

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📸 @breezypunk | comm detes

All That Glitters

I woke up and realized I forgot to queue anything for Shippy Saturday. Good thing I still have some comms from Breezy to share. Looking at this set, I've finally settled on "All That Glitters" for the AU name. It's just too perfect.

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katherinezeetajones · 10 months

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Dancing With the Scars

Andy Herrera x f reader / light angst, mostly fluff

Previous parts can be found here.

Summary: you're engaged to the love of your life Andy Herrera. The news of your engagement shocks no one at 19, even though you've never explicitly told them you and Andy are a thing. Some questions your angle, some aren't even sure you're serious. And then a firefighter's ball is happening in the middle of it all? let's hope the dancefloor doesn't collapse. (set during the finale of season 6)

Months pass by in a blur after your engagement to Andy Herrera, the love of your life you met 2 and a half years ago in the middle of a gay bar, a place she wouldn't even imagine she would step into—yet here you are.

You sit in the back of an open aid car, parked in the barn after a hard day's work. You try to relax after a long day, but you feel restless.

"hey," Vic approaches you, sitting on the empty spot next to you. "Word on the street is that you're engaged to Andy?"

You chuckle as you turn to her. "You were there, Vic. You were there when we were in the burning skyscraper,"

Vic shrugs, feigning innocence. "Well, I gotta set the record straight, y'know. Everybody wants to know what's going on between the two of you these days,"

You shrug. "Ah, well... I didn't wanna show off..."

But you want to.

So you flash her your modest ring, a golden band on your finger.

Vic's eyes widen, her mouth agape. "How did I never notice that—"

You laugh, a little embarrassed. "I took it off on calls... Didn't want it to get lost,"

"so... When's the wedding?" Vic asks, nudging your shoulder with hers. Her giddiness makes you sheepish, seeing as she's one of the few who truly cares about gossip and drama (and her friends) in 19.

You try to think of a time frame. "I don't know, I... I mean, we talked, we planned, but... I don't know about exactly when,"

Vic raises her eyebrows. "So... What are you waiting for?"

"look, I... I don't wanna rush Andy, she got a lot going on, and... I don't wanna add on to that, y'know?"

"you're going to be Andy's wife, rookie. I don't think she would think of you as a burden,"

You shrug. "That's exactly why I don't wanna rush her, Vic... some people here had a history of screwing Andy over, making decisions on her behalf without her asking for it, so this time... I just wanna let her decide, when the time is right,"

Vic looks at you for a while. Then she sighs. "Guess you're right. But I better be invited,"

You laugh. "Of course you're invited,"

—

A breezy morning. You're cleaning the communal showers with some of your colleagues, your duty to scrub the grime off the walls.

Travis scoots closer to you, and you know the look on his face is one of obnoxious curiosity.

So you wait for the question.

"so... You and Andy...? Engaged?" He whispers to you, though he didn't have to, because the others are cleaning quite far from you.

You sigh fondly at your colleague, the freckled guy you call your dear friend. "Yes," you whisper in the same volume. "We don't have a date for the wedding yet, so don't ask. And yes, of course you're invited,"

That seems to take Travis off guard, as you correctly guessed his queue of questions he hadn't even fired out. "Oh, um... Well, in that case. I better, go back to..."

"scrubbing," you point at a spot to his left, and he chuckles as he gets to it, satisfied with your answer.

You shake your head, a little amused at your colleagues and their nosiness.

—

"are you going to the firefighter's ball this weekend?" Jack asks you, putting the hoses back into the ladder truck after things have wrapped up on the scene you're currently on.

You shrug. "I don't know, I don't usually go to these things..."

He shakes his head. "Yeah, no, I was also... Gonna skip, since... Y'know, nothing in it for me,"

You give him a look. "Jack. Ben is getting an award,"

He sighs, closing the doors of the compartment with a huff. "You just said you wouldn't go,"

"I said I don't know," you argue, and the two of you climb inside the engine's backseat.

You were about to sit but lock eyes with Andy, who's sitting in the senior man spot, right next to the driver. She gives you a small nod, and you give her one back.

You sit, and Jack nudges your arm as a response to the interaction. "What the hell was that?" He asks you.

"what was what?" You ask him, creasing your eyebrows.

"that... That thing... With you and Andy..." he gestures between you and Andy's spot, bewildered. "You don't really look... Y'know, engaged,"

You shake your head and scoffs. "What? No, that's... We're just... We're fine,"

Jack narrows his eyes at you, as the driver takes the engine on the road. "Are you guys having cold feet?"

You give him a look. "No," you said flat out, a little bit forced. "I'm just... We're just..."

And it takes you back to a conversation you and Andy had, a couple days ago.

You were watching a movie together, Andy's arms becoming a safe haven for you to rest your head on, and you finally learned that being in the arms of a woman you love is one hell of a drug.

Andy looks at you, and you feel her gaze from the corner of your eyes. You turn to her with a small smile. "what?"

"nothing," she shrugs with a smile, settling in closer to you, taking your legs and putting them on top of hers. "Just... Thinking about our wedding,"

You nod. "It's gonna be a great one,"

"you know, rookie..." Andy softly pushes you off her arms, making you look each other eye to eye in the dimly lit room. "I feel like we're taking forever in doing this,"

"you wanted a summer wedding," you offer.

She nods, but she looks troubled. "Yeah, I know I did, but... What do you want? When do you want it to be?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Uh, well, I don't... I don't have a preference, I... I just wanna do what you wanna do,"

But that's not an answer Andy's looking for, and she looks exasperated. "Rookie, I... Look, this is your wedding as much as it's mine, so you have a say in it, too—"

"I know that, Andy—"

"I feel like you're not, you're not standing up for yourself enough, you know?" She holds her hands out, searching your eyes for any hint of what she's looking for.

"why would I need to do that, Andy? I, I just want you to have everything you want—"

"that's the thing, isn't it, rookie," Andy stands up, sighing in exasperation as she walks into the kitchen. "During the entire run of our relationship, you always forget that this is supposed to be a two way street,"

You are confused, to say the least. "But I've always been putting you first—"

Andy groans, leaning her palms on the kitchen counter with a sigh. "That's the thing. You never, ever let me do anything for you, you never wanted to make me uncomfortable, and you would always refuse to let me take care of you,"

"I'm—"

Andy cuts you off with a finger. She sits back down on the couch next to you, holding your hand in hers. "Rookie. Think of yourself one of these days,"

...and that was the gist of your conversation with Andy, and you've been strained ever since.

Mostly because you're confused of what she wants, more than anything. The wedding isn't off, but when you try to talk to her about it, she would just softly stall, saying that it's something you two can figure out soon.

Which takes you back to the present, with Jack looking at you inquisitively, and Andy trying to catch a glimpse of you from the rearview mirror.

Neither of you talk the whole way back to the station.

—

The same night, you both get ready for bed in your shared apartment, still exchanging very few words. You can tell that she's not exactly mad at you, but you're still confused as to what she wants from you.

You slip into an oversized t-shirt and briefs, climbing into bed as Andy sits on the vanity chair, doing her nighttime routine. She locks eyes with you from the vanity, and sighs.

"rookie," she said to you softly.

"yeah?"

"...you have a date for the firefighter's ball?" She asks, rather cheekily.

You laugh, feeling the awkward tension slowly evaporating in the air. "Nobody's asked me yet, so no,"

"well," she turns around to look at you. "How about it? Me and you, rookie?"

You gasp in mock fluster. "who, me?"

Andy bites her lower lip, and jumps onto the bed, getting on top of you. "Don't get cute,"

She leans her face close to yours, and you more than anything, want to close the gap. So you do it. You kiss her, and she kisses you back, deep and sweet. She pins your hands above your head, nothing you can complain about.

You can talk some other time.

—

The night of the firefighter's ball is here, and you haven't seen much of Andy the whole day, a string of text messages exchanged between the two of you being the only thing you've seen of her today. You got ready on your own at your shared apartment, Andy unfortunately busy with a double shift and promises she would meet you at the ball venue.

You arrive at the ball's entrance, immediately greeted by your 19 family. Vic hugs you tight, and guides you to the photo backdrop. "Looking sharp in the red dress, rookie!"

You laugh at her infectious smile. "Looks like we're twinning tonight,"

You pose with Vic for pictures, and soon enough everybody else arrives, giving you a turn to pose with each and every single one of your crew, all glammed up.

No sign of Andy anywhere.

The others have started filing in to the main hall, and as you were about to do the same, you spot a gorgeous silhouette coming into the venue, and there she is.

Andy Herrera, looking like the most beautiful woman on earth, with a simple yet classy black dress you rarely see her in.

She spots you, and immediately runs in to give you a hug.

"baby," she hugs you, pecking a quick kiss on your lips. "I got here as soon as I could. The shift was killing me,"

You smile in relief, just happy to have her here with you. "Let's pose for some photos?"

"absolutely,"

—

You sit on the same table as Andy and a couple more of your 19 family, half listening to Kitty Dixon's slurred speech on stage. You sigh at how the more Kitty talks, the less she makes sense.

"she's totally hammered," Sullivan whispers among the table, earning nothing but unanimous agreement from the rest.

"I'm gonna go grab some wine myself," Andy slowly stands up from the chair, squeezing your shoulder before she slips out through the side door.

"you and Andy doing good?" Jack asks, sitting a few chairs away from you.

"yeah, we... I mean, we'll talk about it," you sigh, not really sure of what to say.

"okay, cool," Jack nods, putting up finger guns too childish for his age. "I... still wanna be Andy's best man,"

You shake your head. "Sometimes I feel like you guys wanted the wedding to happen more than we do,"

Travis scoffs with disbelief. "What? No, that's not true—"

Vic sighs. "Travis, stop it. It's true and you know it,"

"I'll... I'll go find Andy, she's been gone a while," you look at the table, and seeing no objections, you get up off the chair to search.

—

"I heard what you've been doing, Herrera," Chief Ross addresses Andy, getting her attention in the middle of the floor outside of the main hall. "You don't need to be talking me up in front of the others,"

"respectfully, chief—I only stated facts," Andy approaches her, a glass of wine in hand.

Chief Ross nods, a little proud of Andy's antics, but she focuses back on. "You don't need to be doing that, because I've made up my mind. You are the captain of station 19, effective immediately."

Andy doesn't believe it. "I'm... Are you...?"

"yes, I'm for real," chief Ross nods with a curt smile. "You've shown me depths of your ability as a leader, as a person, as a friend. I'm proud to make you captain,"

Andy looks at her, bewildered. "I'm... Wow, I don't know what to say... I've... This is all I've..."

"now go back in there, Herrera. Someone's waiting for you," she looks to you with a nod, and walks away.

You approach Andy as the chief leaves the scene, confused as to why Andy's making the face she's making right now. "Andy, what happened?"

She turns to you, and she beams like you've never seen her beamed. "Oh, baby... I'm, I just became captain of the 19,"

Your eyes widen, and you involuntarily squeal. "Oh my god—this is, this is huge!"

Andy nods, immediately wrapping you in a hug. "I know, oh my god... This is my dream, this is..."

You cup her face in your hands, your foreheads pressed together. "It's everything you've dreamed of, baby... This is what you deserve,"

She beams, sighs in fondness, giving you a kiss on your lips.

"Let's break the news to 19?" You tug at her hand, letting her know you wanna get back.

Andy lags behind. "Uh... Let's keep this between us, just you and me, for now?"

You crease your eyebrows in confusion. "Why? Don't you... Wanna share the news?"

Andy sighs, pursing her lips. "Yeah, of course I do, but... I wanted this moment to just be between us... For now, y'know?"

You shake your head. "Andy, this... This is bigger than me, this is about you finally becoming the head of 19, so—"

Something in Andy seems to snap, and she abruptly pulls her hand away from yours. "Baby, you always do this!"

You turn back to her, miffed. "Do... Do what?"

"this has always been your thing, baby, you—urgh, you're so... And this is ridiculous to even say out loud, but—you're so infuriatingly selfless, but in the most warped way imaginable, y'know!?"

You hold your hands up, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry, but why is that a bad thing—"

"I'm, I'm trying to keep this between us, baby—because I wanted to have a moment, just for us, right now—and you always, always have to think of how I interact with the others, it's like... It's like you feel as if you're just from the outside looking in, like you're not part of this team!"

You're at a loss of what to say. "I... I don't think that..."

Andy sighs, putting her hand softly on your cheek. "I love you, baby. I want to marry you. But you have to... Well, be selfish, for once,"

"I don't..." You sputter, trying to form some sort of a response to this. "I don't understand why this is... Bad..."

Andy sighs, shaking her head. She walks past you, making her way into the main hall. "Look, I'm gonna go on inside first...I'll... see you later,"

You watch her go, miffed more than ever.

—

You came back into the main hall after what feels like forever, sitting a few tables away from the 19 table, not really knowing what to do or say in front of Andy, because you don't understand what she wants. You try to, but nothing makes sense the more you think of it. Miranda had just finished giving a heartwarming speech about her husband as she presents him his medal, everybody clapped, and as if it's all a blur, now everyone is moving to the dance floor for some foot shuffling.

Jack nudges you from behind, looking tipsy. "Rook, I... I think you gotta see this,"

You turn to him, seeing what a state he's in. "Jack, what are you doing?"

You both keep walking as everybody move around you to get to the dance floor, and his breathing grows more ragged. "I... I think the walls in the kitchen are smoking,"

"how would you know that?" You whisper back to him.

"I went there to get something to eat..."

You sigh. Not a good time, seeing as you were going to look for Andy. But you are a firefighter. "Fine, okay, I'll take a look with you. I don't know why you didn't just bring this up with chief Ross or something,"

He shrugs. "She looks preoccupied,"

"you're scared of her,"

"oh, I absolutely am," he admits with little shame.

You groan, and you peel back from the crowd, going the opposite direction from the dance floor.

—

And as it would have turned out, Jack was right. You knocked on the wall to get a good listen, and he's right.

"there's smoke behind this wall," you nod at Jack, who doesn't seem happy to be proven right. You take a walkie talkie from one of the kitchen staff standing nearby, and you turn it on. "Can anyone read me?"

A response is shortly heard. "Copy, kitchen staff,"

"we got smoke coming behind the kitchen walls, me and firefighter Gibson are going to the basement to look for a way to handle this, please notify chief Ross and all the captains present about this. This could be something bad, but we're hoping it won't be,"

The walkie talkie hums. "Copy that, firefighter,"

You nod to Jack, who has a hatchet in hand already.

—

The dance floor is happening, big time. Firefighters are letting loose as the music belts out, everybody dancing to their heart's content. Andy looks around, searching for her beau, but no luck.

"Herrera, what are you doing? This is your big night, isn't it? Enjoy it," Chief Ross approaches, her own face a little troubled for the gleeful advice she's giving.

"I'm looking for my... My fiance," Andy stares past Ross, still not finding you.

Chief Ross purses her lips. "She'll turn up, I'm sure. Listen, you... You see Sully anywhere?"

Andy is about to respond, when a staff member of the venue approaches.

"chief Ross?" She calls.

Ross turns her head around, nodding curtly. "that's me,"

"well, we just received reports from firefighters down in the kitchen, and one of them confirmed to us that smoke is coming from behind the walls,"

Ross and Andy exchange glances. "We need to evacuate,"

Andy shakes her head, dread settling in her guts. "Who... Who confirmed that?"

"she was with, uh, firefighter Gibson," the staff replies.

Ross nods. "Herrera, you can't get distracted. We need to evacuate everyone, this could be severe,"

Andy doesn't seem to be able to respond. "I... Yes, okay, I got it,"

Ross walks away, but stops and turn to Andy. "Herrera, I get it. But... We have to do our job,"

Andy nods, but she's rattled.

—

Soon after you informed the staff, a captain and lieutenant from 25 came to your spot, telling you that they will assess the basement, and that you and Jack should go to the dance floor to help evacuate. You had no choice but to listen, as they outrank you.

You're walking with Jack back to the dance floor, trying to hurry as anything can happen, and you need to be ready.

Jack parts from you, and you look around the dance floor, some still dancing while some others alarmed as to why the captains have disappeared from the floor.

Your eyes land on Andy, who's grabbing people to get off the floor. You approach her.

"Andy, I just got told to get back here," you say to her, and she immediately turns your way. "How can I help?"

She nods, trying to see past your need to talk to each other. "Get... Get as many people as you can away from this room, the captain of 25 just told me—"

And as if famous last words aren't famous enough, the ground beneath you shakes, cracks forming throughout the walls and ceiling of the dance floor. You wobble, and so does Andy.

Or so you think.

It all happened so fast. You close your eyes for one second, and suddenly, the dance floor has sunken into the lower floor, with several people taken with it.

You can't find Andy.

You look around, frantically trying to spot her.

Your heart drops in your stomach as you look down onto the collapsed dance floor.

'please, no...'

And your worst nightmare has come true.

You spot Andy's arm... And the rest of her is trapped under a massive rubble.

You hear deafening scream in the middle of the chaos breaking out, but you never could've guessed that it was your own voice. You rush to get down, but Maya—suddenly arriving, holds you back.

The sounds are ringing in your ears, people are talking to you, but you hear nothing. Only a muffled sound of people calling your name are faintly heard.

"rookie—rookie! We'll get Andy, but don't go down there! It's too dangerous!" Maya reasons with you, though she should've known by now that the glazed look in your eyes means that you're not listening to a thing she's saying.

You wrench your hand free from her grip, and you crawl down the sunken floor, broken shards of glass puncturing the palm of your hands, but you don't feel it.

You get to Andy, only seeing her arm. You hold it up, to try and get a pulse. There's a faint one, and you feel a breath of relief escaping you. You try to push the rubble, but it's too heavy a job for one person. You look around, and spot Travis, who looks crestfallen as he declared Michael Dixon dead, from a crush injury.

"Travis, Travis—please, please help me," you tug at him, a little too roughly. "Andy, she... Help me get the rubble off, I..."

Travis looks at you, and past you, eyes landing on the rubble behind you. "Andy, shit..."

You dragged him along, and you two start lifting using your backs. After a massive effort and strain, you finally managed to get the piece off Andy, who looks worse for wear, and unconscious.

Travis looks between the two of you. "I'll... I'll go get backup and some kit,"

He leaves you, and you start your effort on waking Andy. "Andy, baby, please... Please, please wake up..."

You just want her to wake up. You want to see her getting mad at you again, you just want to be able to hold her close to you, to have her skin against yours, to call her yours and you hers...

And then it hits you.

That's what Andy meant.

Your eyes widen, brimming with tears as you perform CPR. "Andy, please, please wake up... I get it now! I get it! And even when you called me selfless, that was never true! I have always been selfish, I just gotta show it! So please, please come back to me, Andy—so I can show you just how selfish I am! Just how much I want you by my side, not because I need to, but because I want you to! I..."

Andy slowly lifts her eyes open, groggy and breathless. "Rookie..."

You immediately cradle Andy's head in your hands, putting them on your lap. "Andy! Oh god, oh..."

"you... You mean that?"

"what? Of course I mean all that—listen to me, Andy Herrera... There's nothing I want more in this life than to call you my wife, even if it means I'm being selfish..."

Andy manages a weak laugh, seemingly the loudest voice in the whole venue that's falling into chaos of firefighters getting injured and getting rescued. Hundreds are among you two, but it's only her voice you can hear.

"rookie... that's all I ever wanted from you..." Andy smiles at you with labored breathing, and you press your forehead against hers in relieved desperation.

"once we get out of here, Andy..." You promises through ragged breath. "...we'll march down the fucking city hall, and we'll get married, I'm going to be mrs. Herrera, whether you like it or not,"

Andy laughs, cupping your face in her hand. "I like the sound of that... But... Since this dance floor collapsed... You owe me a dance,"

You laugh through your panting. "Okay... The next time we dance, it'll be at our reception, then,"

"deal. Now help me up so we can help the others,"

You help her stand, and it's back to work for the future Mrs. Herreras.

—

Tagging @geekyandgay98

#wlw imagine #station 19 #station 19 x reader #andy herrera #andy herrera x reader #andy herrera x you #andy herrera x female reader

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mister-eames · 3 months

Text

"Well this is just fantastic, isn't it," he mutters, switching gears into fifth and checking the rear view again for any pursuers. They've been in the clear for the last twenty minutes but is compelled to look again anyway. "Hmm? What now?"

"Safehouse," Arthur says, clipped, distracted with his phone. "Just over the border."

"You have a contingency for everything, don't you," Eames says, aiming for breezy, but missing the target by a mile. "Bloody Arthur and his bloody back up plans."

Arthur raises his brow, but doesn't stop typing.

"I bet you had a backup plan for this too, hmm?" Eames continues, pressing the accelerator, taking his hand from the gear stick to gesture to Arthurs’ battered body.

"Can you shut up and pay attention to the road?"

"You know,” Eames ignores him, “normal people don't plan for getting hurt. You're not normal."

"Says you," Arthur sighs, finally putting the phone down.

"Yes, says me, the one who doesn't have a broken wrist and a knife wound."

"It was a letter opener."

Eames scoffs. “And you were too fucking slow.”

Arthur shifts in his seat. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing at all," he turns a corner, hard, jostling both of them. "Was that what I was, Arthur - a backup plan?"

“What?”

“Am I here as a part of your backup plan? A getaway driver?”

“Jesus,” Arthur mutters.

Out of the corner of his eye Eames sees him shake his head. He opens his mouth to speak but shuts it quickly, shaking his head again. It stokes Eames’ anger even more. Of course he’s just another piece in Arthur’s designs. Part of the strategy. Stupid of him. Of course Arthur would know that he’d be here, that he’d do anything for him. That he’d be willing to hotwire a car for him. To lead when Arthur is down.

“What? Spit it out.”

“You--” Arthur cuts himself off, jaw visibly clenched. “You’re an idiot.”

Eames scowls. “Fuck you, Arthur.”

Arthur whacks him with his good hand. “I can drive one-handed, asshole. I don’t need you here.”

"Well, let me just pull over then, since I’m clearly of no use.”

“Listen,” Arthur whacks him again, turning in his seat to lean in. “I don’t need you here. We could have split up back there, but I asked you to run with me - can you fucking think about that? Do I need to spell it out for you? You’re not a backup plan -- there. You happy?” Arthur sits back heavily in his seat, petulance radiating off of him in waves. “Asshole.”

Eames eases up on the gas as they approach a border checkpoint, going over Arthur’s words, the ire churning his gut easing bit by bit.

“You want me here,” he concludes.

Arthur remains silent.

The car slows to a stop behind a short queue of cars. Eames watches as Arthur busies himself with their passports, mouth pursed in a frown, colour high on his cheeks.

If it all goes right, they will be stuck in this safehouse of Arthur’s for at least a week. Maybe two. And thats...

... A prospect suddenly much more easier to bear. Eames smiles.

Slowly, so as to not spook him while he’s defensive, Eames extends his hand out and casually places it over Arthur’s, squeezing twice, stomach somersaulting like he’d just reached into a tigers cage. Arthur doesn’t shake him off.

The car inches forward, next in line. Eames hopes Arthur realises he means that there’s nowhere else he’d rather be, even if they were in a row, or outrunning a storm of bullets. Nowhere else at all.

He thinks Arthur knows. If not, Eames will be sure to tell him properly, later.

#ash cleans out her drafts #inception #arthur x eames

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kitten4sannie · 1 year

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐲’𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡? 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 (𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫)

part 1

Ex Boyfriend! Wooyoung x Afab! Reader

Genre: smut, angstttttt

Summary: After having a pleasant night out with your friend, seeing Wooyoung’s name pop up on your phone almost made you scream. You knew that even if you had ignored his call, he would just keep calling you back, so you gave in — just like every other time.

W.C: ???

Warnings: exes with benefits, switch! Wooyoung (yes you read that right 🥵), switch! reader, weed use, Wooyoung’s still a dick, toxicity, lots of swearing, there are feelings involved (that’s as descriptive as i’ll get ;;), name calling, degradation, use of the word “baby”, dirty talk, messy blowjob, deep throating, brief cum play, face riding, manhandling, rough/passionate (unprotected) sex, choking, spit play, multiple positions, kissing, squirting, multiple orgasms

A/N: i am literally SO excited for you all to read the full thing, like I can barely contain myself 😭 i’m sorry the teaser is so short! i just can’t bring myself to spoil anything else ;; i'll be posting the full thing on november 30th!

Masterlist

➽───────────────❥

“Byeee, get home safe!” you called out to your friend, watching as she opened her car door and craned her neck back to look at you, giving you a small smile and a peace sign. You repeated her actions, waiting for her to get into her car, before you followed suit.

Once you got situated inside your own car, you unlocked your phone to set up a queue of songs for your drive home, almost throwing it onto the dash when you saw Wooyoung’s name pop on your screen. “Awesome,” you mumbled to yourself, bringing your thumb and index finger up to squeeze the bridge of your nose, sighing in dismay.

You sat there with your phone buzzing against your hand for a few seconds, ears zoning in on the sound of your heart racing inside your chest. “Fuck, okay.” You leaned your head back against the headrest and reluctantly answered his call, snapping, “Let me guess, you want me to come over, right? And you’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“Mm, you’re already wound up all nice and tight for me, huh?” your ex returned in a low voice, unable to see the way you were gripping your thigh with your free hand. “I like that.”

You let out an ‘augh’ sound, as if you were disgusted, making an attempt to bring him down a peg or two. “Of course you would. Your life must be really sad if you get turned on just by the thought of arguing with me.”

“Yours must be even worse since you’re always willing to become an obedient little cumdump for me,” he replied swiftly, chuckling when he didn’t get a response, except for a small gasp on your end. “I’ll see you soon, y/n.”

Hearing Wooyoung simply hang up the call after what he had said should’ve made you mad, but it almost had the exact opposite effect on you — once again proving that the both of you were one and the same. Quietly ignoring the butterflies that were trying to escape your stomach, you pressed on a random song in your playlist and put your car in reverse, not even noticing when your lips curled into a small smile.

➽───────────────❥

Tags: @dazzlinglight @thefinerthingz3 @cloudysannie @aryraaaa @za-con @cosmiczen @choerryge @aikyubi @arusio @gueritaybonita @i-l0v3hands @ethicalz @jinsonaz @kitty4hwa @jexidamulti @as-she-pleases @purplechannie @lilactiny @jazzymoore @kodzukein @asjkdk @cherryxsang @namsloverr @chanst1ddies @woo-stars @createyour0wnworld @roarmingi @simeonswhore @k0rean-big-mini0n @fairyoftaehyun @bls-luv-me @lavanyasingh04 @igotlockedout @fl0r4f4wn @miriamxsworld @mork-ly @woosmaid @kawaiikels @azcon @merciluv-blog @atzcrime @lovekeeho @sup-dallyboy @allofuswantgwinam @breezy-simp @eastleighsblog @singularity777 @san-realblkwife @leoncito1503 @ilyj1n

im sorry that i couldn’t tag some of you (im not sure how to fix that ;;)

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ateez #ateez smut #wooyoung #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x y/n #kpop smut

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sweetloleepop · 6 months

Text

𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑶𝒍𝒅, 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑵𝒆𝒘, 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅, 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆

Chapter 7: Mister Yeager?

Synopsis: Being the good wife that she is, (Y/N) tried to deliver Erwin a folder.

Pairings: Zeke Yeager/Reader, Erwin Smith/Reader

Tags: Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Additional Tags to be Added, Reader is kind of a dandere, Erwin Smith is mean, slow burn, infidelity

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Wordcount: 1.5k

The door opened and Erwin finally looked up.

“How’s it been, Erwin?”

Erwin’s eyes widened. He didn’t expect to see her right now.

“Am I not welcome anymore?” the person asked.

“No, that’s not it-” Erwin was cut off.

“What is it then?”

“I just didn’t expect you, is all.”

Erwin stood up and walked towards the door where his unexpected visitor is standing still.

“Come in.” Erwin spoke quietly, almost whispering. He looked outside his office before locking the door.

‘Pasta… I need pasta’ (Y/N) repeatedly said to herself while roaming her eyes through the grocery shelves. She’s currently at the grocery store, looking for stuff to fill their pantry. ‘Ah!’

“There you are.” She said to herself while grabbing a pack.

She looked at her phone and checked the pasta off her grocery list. It was the last in her list so she proceeded to the cashier. While in the queue, she looked around the shelves near the counter. There, sat a magazine with a red-haired woman on the cover. The woman has long curly locks and a skin as white and clear as porcelain, not a bit of freckle to be seen, how pretty. “Next, please.”

(Y/N)’s attention was caught by the cashier. She pushed her cart forward and placed her grocery items on the counter. The lazy beeping of the scanner and the quiet conversations from the other employees were the only noises heard inside the mini market.

After the bagger put her items inside an eco bag, she headed out of the store. The early 8:30am breeze whooshed and made their way through her hair, making them flow mid-air and give her nape a smooth and breezy touch. She took a deep breath, basking in the early morning breeze.

(Y/N) placed her bag of grocery on the counter, taking the items out, one by one. She organized the whole pantry, putting what to where they should be. Once she finished placing the items, she folded the bag and headed to the foyer. She placed the bag in one of the foyer’s drawers, putting it neatly amongst the other bags.

Upon standing up, she noticed a folder on top of the foyer shelf. Curious, she opened the folder and scanned its content. ‘Oh…’

(Y/N) contemplated for a good while whether or not to deliver the folder to Erwin’s office but as she thought about how important the folder might be, the more she had the urge to give it. ‘It might be important’ ‘he might need this today’ ‘what if his company relies on this??’ And so, she decided to get dressed and deliver the folder.

She headed downstairs and caught a glimpse of the kitchen. The angry grumble of her stomach reminded her that she hasn’t eat anything yet. ‘Maybe later’ she thought and proceeded to the door.

(Y/N) decided to call a taxi but upon waiting for a good three minutes by their yard, she realized that no taxi passes by and that she has never called a taxi before. She used to have a driver but after getting married, all of her helpers was left with her parents. Sigh. She walked her way to the park, watching people do their own stuff. She came across an old lady, ‘Maybe she knows how!’ (Y/N) approached the woman and greeted her.

“Excuse me?” she started.

“Yes?” the lady asked.

“Good morning. If you don’t mind, would you tell me how to get a taxi?” (Y/N) asked with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, of course!” the lady replied with a smile.

And with that, she made her way to Erwin’s workplace, thanking the woman for helping her. The trip was fine, the driver made a small conversation with her before he played the radio, quieting himself and letting the music play throughout their trip. (Y/N) sat quietly, watching the busy streets and people as they pass by. She wondered what it would be like to walk around a busy street such as that. Must be overwhelming. Or maybe fun. Maybe she’ll go out by herself some time, try to explore and do outdoor activities.

When the taxi stopped, (Y/N) payed the driver and stepped out of the car. The taxi driver drove off and there left (Y/N), staring at the skyscraper. ‘So this is where he works? I hope I got the right address, it’s the one written on the papers here.’ She thought, holding the folder close to her chest.

Pushing her doubts aside, (Y/N) proceeded to the building. She looked around and saw a logo behind what seems to be the main desk. She opened the folder, it has the same logo, now she is so sure that she is in the right place.

“Excuse me, is Erwin Smith here?” she asked the woman behind the desk.

A knock on the door caught Erwin off-guard. Shit.

“Who’s there?” Erwin asked, trying his best to sound calm.

“Mister Smith? It’s me.”

Erwin muttered a few more ‘shits’ before fixing his tie and opening the door. On the other side of the door, there stand Eren with two cups of coffee.

“I’m here with your coffee, sir” Eren said, offering Erwin a cup.

“You sure that’s not yet cold?” Erwin asked.

“Yeah, I just prepared these-”

“Why don’t you make me another one? Make it faster this time, hm? Thanks.” Erwin said before retreating back to his office, closing the door behind him.

‘Weird’ Eren thought before turning on his feet.

“No, Ma’am… I don’t think Mister Smith has a meeting with Mister Yeager today.” The woman behind the desk answered.

‘Mister Yeager…?’

“Uhm, who’s- who’s Mister Yeager…?” (Y/N) nervously asked. ‘I can’t be- I cannot have entered the wrong building’

“Mister Yeager is-” the woman was cut off by a deep masculine voice.

“Mister Yeager is me”

Both (Y/N) and the woman turned to the source of the voice. It was from a man. A tall, blondie with glasses. He wears a blue suit with matching tie. His blonde hair is neat and tidy, his expression is serious. ‘Kinda scary’ (Y/N) thought.

“Good morning, Mister Yeager.”

“Morning.” He replied to the woman before turning to (Y/N). “And who do we have here?”

“Oh, uhm. Me?” (Y/N) asked.

The man looked around and hummed, “No one I don’t know except you.”

“Oh, right. I’m (Y/N) (L/N)”

“May I ask what Miss (L/N) is doing inside my building?”

“You- your building?” (Y/N) is now sure that this building is NOT the one that she is looking for.

“Yes. This is MY building, Miss (L/N). I own and run the place. Now, I want to know, what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for someone but I think I entered the wrong building, s-sorry. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” (Y/N) said, almost mumbling. She rushed to the exit without looking back, leaving both the woman and that Mister Yeager amused. ‘That was soo embarrassing!!’

(Y/N) lifted her fork and brought the fried dish into her mouth. It’s delicious but her face failed to show how she feels about the food. She can’t stop thinking about her embarrassing moment earlier today. ‘They must’ve thought I’m a stupid woman’ sigh.

After (Y/N) exited the building, she continued walking until she reached a bench. She sat there panting for a few minutes, trying to forget about what just happened. After she calmed down, she looked around for a bit before calling a taxi and made her way home.

Erwin noticed (Y/N)’s seemingly disappointed expression. It made him curious, what made her look like that? He kept on thinking, it can’t be. Erwin found himself in a state of paranoia. His heart is pumping and his forehead starts to sweat just little. He can’t quite put what does he actually feel. Anticipation? Fright?

He decided, he can’t stay this way. He hates feeling like this so he took a few deep breaths and spoke, “I don’t think the fish is bad.”

(Y/N)’s head turned to Erwin’s direction so fast she had a whiplash. Her hand instinctively held her neck. She mumbled a little ‘ow’ before replying, “Really? Thanks.”

“What’s making your face look like that if you thought the same?” Erwin asked.

“Oh. It’s just- well you see, earlier this morning, I saw a folder on the foyer drawer and I thought it might be important so I decided to deliver it to you and then when I told the taxi the address written on the paper there and I arrived, it occurred to me that I entered the wrong building.” (Y/N) stated, sighing and slumping her shoulders.

‘She almost went to my office earlier.’ “Is that so?” Erwin, yet again, asked. (Y/N) hummed as reply. “Very well then, next time, make sure to just call my number.” Erwin offered. “Alright.”

(Y/N) is laying on her side, facing Erwin. He fell asleep an hour ago, it’s now 10pm. He looks very calm when he sleeps, it made (Y/N) feel light. Erwin seemed very stoic when he’s awake, always looking so serious.

She rolled a hundred and eighty degrees to her left, now facing the far wall. She closed her eyes, welcoming slumber…

“And who do we have here?”

He looked around and hummed, “No one I don’t know except you.”

“May I ask what Miss (L/N) is doing inside my building?”

“Yes. This is MY building, Miss (L/N). I own and run the place.”

“What are you doing here?”

#erwin x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan erwin #commander erwin #erwin smith #shingeki no kyojin #snk erwin #aot erwin #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #zeke yeager x reader #zeke jeager x reader #zeke x reader #zeke yeager #zeke #zeke jaeger #aot #snk x reader #SOSNSBSB

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cheri-sources · 1 year

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HELPFUL TIPS ✨ feat. beta editor

we've all had the issue of t/umblr EATING replies after spending several minutes ( or several hours ) on a bomb-ass reply. fully aware it was never as good as the first time you wrote it. this can be annoying && in most cases disheartening-- that same reply can sit in your drafts collecting dust just waiting for that same motivation to strike once again. believe me WE HAVE ALL BEEN THERE !!

now this little helpful morsel was recommended to me several times, by many talented people here in the community. ( they're ahead of the game as you can see 😎😎😎 ) and it's very easy to use. you can find this amazing resource here, and for those new to it; don't worry babe !! here's a quick && easy tutorial on how to use it 🖤

once you've written your reply ( typically just the words and the fancy text formatting, ie: custom colours, bold, underlined, italics, small font, ect ) you'll head over to the TOP LEFT of the editor && turn it into a source code.

copy the source code and input the code into your draft as an HTML format ( using the TOP RIGHT gear icon on the tumblr page of your reply ) thankfully if you're using beta it will automatically save your reply every few minutes as your writing it just incase the unspeakable happens, ie: a computer reset, a four legged furry heathen trampling across your keyboard, a forsaken coffee spill, and who can forget, WHEN TUMBLR JUST DECIDES TO EAT IT.

unlike old t/umblr, you can switch back and fourth between HTML && Rich Text as much as you want without fear of losing any progress !! so going back and adjusting small text or adding media such as images or icons is easy breezy && you can do it to your hearts content.

be sure to check / proof read your responses to ensure it looks the way you want it to before saving it as a draft / posting it / or throwing into queue. at this stages you can add your images to the t/umblr post editor itself without breaking all the hard work you just made.

AND YOU ARE DONE !! it really is that easy. part of what makes this community so great is the simple fact of sharing resources && refusing to gatekeep information. genuinely, thank you to those of you who willingly offered up help when it was asked. YOU are part of what makes this place better.

#//this is a repost from my main blog so please excuse the messiness #【 ⎯⎯⎯ 🍒 ; 】 tutorials.#【 ⎯⎯⎯ 🍒 ; 】 beta editor tips.#rp resources

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mintchoccy · 2 years

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Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word

NMIXX Choi Jinni

"What I got to do to make you love me?

What I got to do to make you care?

What do I do when lightning strikes me?

And I wake to find that you're not there?

-- Blue

word count: 1.3k words

it's 5:30 AM.

cold, dark, and breezy.

you woke up in the alarm of the goal horn signaling you must wake up. ate some breakfast, and washed myself. time to go to school.

waiting a queue of subway riders, a couple of minutes in bus, and walking ago, you finally arrived to school. you then switch the song to your favorite song, "Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word" by Blue and Elton John.

walking down the hallway, I saw her again. the girl who I thought will make my world happier, but instead, makes my life miserable in high school.

Choi Yujin, also known as Jinni, is my bully. it's absurd right? well, I'm not like those guys who can pick up someone and fuck over their lives. I'm just a high school nerd with a knowledge to play football, that's why I accept this scholarship. however, Jinni, why did she entered here anyway?

trying to manuver from her sight, she successfully spotted me. "ya Y/N! come up here or I'll beat your ass once again!" afraid of beating me up, I approached them. Jinni and Sullyoon are the queen bees of the school, so I must keep my guard up or else.

it's 3:45 PM.

I'm currently treating my bruises and wounds in the clinic. those 2 brats, why are they really wanted to pick me up? there's a thousand of nerds that they can pick up but no, they really set their sights on me. Haewon and Lily can't help me, coz' they are also afraid of their younger friends if they stand up for me.

leaving to go practice, I was spotted again by Jinni. this time, I can't predict what are she doing. the best thing to do is to leave her and run to the practice.

however, Jinni in the other hand, was struck in the gesture. she know that it's difficult to talk to her crush. the actions she done to you was formidable, she cannot face her fear.

she can't help it. she really fell in love with you. how no one can fall in love with the athletic nerd like you?

Jinni really admired you in your academic excellence, as well as your football career. carrying the program to the national championships, as well as the most decorative player of the school.

however, because of she was friends with Sullyoon, she became a bully too. one of her targets, is obviously you.

"but how I can talk to you even you ignore me like that?"

it comes the senior night. the time to impress everyone, but not everyone. Jinni is still trying to talk with you, but she's determined to talk to you for the last time.

"WHITE 80, HUT!"

the last words marking your school's victory en route for another state title game. kneeling for the last time, you bow to your school as part of your performance.

triumphant, you walked out of the field, and changed your attire to a casual, comfortable one. in the outside, Jinni is waiting for you to come out, as your teammates are started to worry about the girl.

"yo Y/N, someone's waiting for you outside. will you go and fetch her?" your tight end, Big E, is asking you. baffling, you changed quickly and leave the team's locker room after post-game speech and congratulatory speech from you.

"h-hey Y/N. great game you have", Jinni called you after you went out of the locker room. "h-hi Jinni. what brings you here? did you bring Sullyoon to to mock me?" you retorted. this brings Jinni to shock, as she was unexpectedly hear those words from you.

"no Y/N, I alone went here. because, becau-", she stuttered. "what Jinni? to fall into your trap? Choi Yujin, for the 3 years I know you, you fucked me over! you and Sully have an audacity to stand up to the locker room?" Jinni was baffled. she can't take it anymore.

"ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND, OR ANYTHING STUPID? I LIKE YOU! I LIKE YOU SO MUCH! I CAN'T HELP TO BULLY YOU BECAUSE I WANT TO GRAB YOUR ATTENTION! WHY ARE YOU SO DENSE?" Jinni shouted that grab everyone's attention. all of the personnel are looked into you but you grab her wrist and run away to the tunnel approaching the spectator's seats.

Jinni, on the other hand, became weak at the same time afraid as you grab her. "look Jinni, if you really love me, you must stop bullying me and try to approach me. I also like you, but I feel you didn't feel the same as you kelp bugging me out for your actions. please Jinni, if you wanted to love me, change your attitude, and I'll consider your offer." you replied as you left her hanging, only for her to cry and fall in her standing position.

few years later, you are now ready to take the field as a collegiate football player. Jinni is now an idol under the girl group NMIXX. but one more, fate brings both of you together.

"you ready Y/N? this is it, you this is your defining moment. don't waste this opportunity to show Korea what player you've become." your head coach motivates you as you are ready to enter the field.

the game was a close one, as your team keeps the game close against Oklahoma State. however, you rose to the spotlight as you lead the Commodores to three-play, 96-yards to swing the game and win the inaugural Korea Bowl. and you see her, having fun with her band mates.

"Y/N, you felt that you are home. Korean fans are awed with your aerial attack, as you are the surprise team who will enter the College Football Playoff Final Four. will you carry the momentum of this team to the National Title?", the reporter asked you as your team hoist the title trophy.

"it's really bizarre, winning in front of my fellow Koreans, and now, punched our ticket to the CFP. this is the best day of my life. and I wanted to dedicate this win to the girl who waited for a long time, to make me hers. Choi Yujin, this is for you!" you replied.

after post-game celebrations, you immediately went to NMIXX's dorm, with permission to JYP, to take Jinni on a date.

"oh hello oppa! we really expect you to be here, please wait for Jinni, okay?" Jiwoo said after she opened the door, revealing you.

after you picked up Jinni, you both walked to the Han River, where coincidentally, the place where you both first met.

"nothing like a first time again huh?" Jinni asked as she munched her sandwich. "yeah, I missed being here. all the memories are kicking back", you replied. meanwhile, Jinni is now ready to tell you again what her heart always wanted to say.

"Y/N, I really really sorry for my actions me and Sully had done on you. we really regret bullying you. especially me, I really, really fall in love with you. I can't say this, but-" you cut her off, kissing her lips directly. you can't hold it longer too, so you take action.

"Jinni-ah, don't say that again. I know you still love me. I'm forgiving you. and I am so happy to see you happy again." you replied. Jinni then rest her head to your chest, admiring your kind-heartedness.

"Y/N-ah, do you really mean it?" Jinni asked which you nodded.

after that, you and JYP agreed terms in dating Jinni, and the rest of NMIXX are happy for their member is into dating, and the fans who are stanning Jinni as well as yours.

#nmixx jinni #choi jinni #choi yujin #nmixx fic #fluff

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ohnoseptember · 1 year

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a stale meal called “friendship”

All my friendships feel like a car stuck in the weekend traffic. I’m not sure exactly how to explain it except that it feels like I’m at a standstill with my friends. It all feels like the grey clouds before a shower but the light is still peeking through. And you’re expecting it to rain but it never does. It’s just cold and breezy.

It feels like the moment when a very long queue moves a little but it isn’t fast enough. It feels like those awkward pages in my sketchbooks with drawings I began and never completed, or paintings that are beautiful but still so empty. They have a story yet feel devoid with all that space in between.

It feels like that one pencil that’s been overused in a box of color pencils and I always have to search for it, or a tube of paint I have to squeeze on as hard as possible. I could just buy a new one, but I don’t want to.

It feels like the moment between an instant and a delay. It feels like waiting for your turn to order as the waiter goes around the table asking everyone, and you’re not the last one but it feels like forever till the waiter gets to you. It feels like the moment between lighting a candle and getting to eat the cake.

It feels like boredom and excitement at the same time. Perhaps it’s the uncertainty of tomorrow. But we’ve said our goodbyes so many times that even our heartfelt displays of affection no longer feel as deep as they’d despite all the unpredictability. I’m in a moment called “in between”. I’m on transit from a location I knew to a location I have no clue of. It does not scare me or excite me. It bores me.

I had several moments of anxiety as well as curiosity. Now my jolts of fear and rushes of adrenaline have worn down and all that remains is a girl sitting at a dinner table with a rusty spoon and knife in hand and a plate catching dust. Whenever the meal is ready, I will awaken my hunger, that is if it still is alive. Until then, I’ll find a spot at the table to catch a quick nap. It isn’t comfortable at all, but there’s not much else to do.

why is everything so “go big or go home” / “all or none” with me? i do not know of moderation, and perhaps it is the disease that will kill me. always black and white, can never be grey, guess i’ll forever be swinging from one extreme to the other, never settling and never resting.

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