#cranky babysitter

[andyouthoughtdirtwasold]

[ @mithosofcruxis​ continued from here ]

“Sight-sightseeing?” Yuan spluttered.

He dropped the tool in his hand. It clattered onto the table and rolled away. A moment later, there was a louder clatter as it hit the floor and rolled further away. 

“Sightseeing, Mithos?” He shook his head, releasing a little breathless laugh as he felt around the floor with his foot in the hopes of feeling the fallen item and retrieving it now before he’d stand on it unwittingly later.

“I’ve got all the sights I can see right here, thanks.”

His toe touched something solid, nudging it further away and he resisted the urge to curse.

“If you want to let the light in, open a curtain if they’re not already open.”

#mithosofcruxis #Mithos the babysitter #good luck - he's cranky XD #He's the epitome of that 'going on my stupid little walk for my stupid mental health' meme with the owl #I need more icons #t = get your shit together

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

Baby Boy Darling!

—Your boyfriend turning into a little baby? What are you going to do with him?

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairings: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Ranpo, Jouno X Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Format: Drabble

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: Mildly rushed but acceptable ig!

↳Osamu Dazai

"You know... I don't think this is a good choice for a bedtime story"

The little infant in your arms looked at you curiously. He wasn't old enough to make any sounds other than crying, but the martyred expression he was wearing and his firm grip on your thumb displayed his intention with no complicacy. Nevertheless, that didn't stop you from putting the suicide manual on the nightstand.

"Now now, don't look at me like that. I'm a good babysitter, and a good babysitter doesn't teach babies ways to kill themselves"

You gently caressed his puffy cheeks. "I'm also a generous babysitter, which is why I don't slap your hand away when you grab my boobs"

His gaze fell on his small chubby hand that was trying to get a hold of your breast. It was a good thing you had a T-shirt on, or with the way he was trying to cup them they would've been bleeding by now.

"I'm sorry honey, I don't think you can hold them anymore. Your hands are just too tiny!"

He whined and pouted in response.

"I know! I'm sad too. C'mon, smile a little for me will you? Smile for your mommy"

If he was still an adult, he would have rolled his eyes and smiled, but he wasn't. He was just a cranky baby who was probably planning your murder in his cute little head.

"Get it? Mommy? I'm your mommy! God you didn't have a sense of humor when you were a child did you? I miss my kind, loving boyfriend"

He looked at you unfazedly.

"Alright, how about I sing you a song? Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you aaaaaaaa— ah!?"

Dazed, you looked down at your baby boyfriend with widened eyes, only to find him staring back at you while his mouth was on your right breast. He was trying to suck on it, but that wasn't easy when it was covered with two layers of clothes, your bra and your T-shirt. Your eyebrows jumped in surprise.

"Wow, you still like the right one better?"

↳Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"So this is the power imbalance they were talking about huh?"

The violet eyed infant stares at you blankly, having a "it won't be this way for long" look in his eyes. You're holding him in front of you while sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing the cheekiest grin you could ever wear.

"No wonder you were so crazy about it. Having somebody wrapped around your finger... feels awesome!"

Still the same bored look.

"giving me the cold shoulder now? I'm just using simple logic to prove my point-which is also what you used to do. I'm saying that from this moment, you're totally and completely dependant on me"

Fyodor tilts his head to the side and gives you a weird look, tempting you to imitate his gesture. A strong feeling is causing you to brag about the current situation and tease him, and you're willingly giving into it.

"Alright. Since I'm the one in charge now, I'm setting a few ground rules. No more acting all workaholicly and staying up until late. No more skipping meals, mister. Im gonna feed you with my special milk, hehehe~ Also, I've got some confessions to make"

It's probably a bad decision to bring these up right now, but you're too captured in the heat of the moment to realize that.

"Ok. I've been trying to tell you this for quite a while. The truth is... I'm pregnant"

The unfazed look is still on.

"Yeah, that was a lie. The real truth is... I was the one who ate all your snacks"

Still no change in his expression.

"...But I assume you already know that. Ugh, keeping secrets from you is such a pain... could you not figure me out for just once?"

Fyodor doesn't seem very eager to respond. He's already very annoyed with how things have turned out and is not really in the mood to joke around. You come to that conclusion when he touches your forearm with his chubby little hand.

"You're gonna activate your ability and kill me, aren't you?"

↳Nikolai Gogol

"Quiz time!!"

Your baby boyfriend whines in annoyance.

"Who's gonna get paid one in his own coin and suffer like I did every time he teased me?"

You flash him a cocky smirk, matched with the way you're looking at him from above as he's lying on the bed. You're standing next to the bed, happier than you could ever be, planning all the steps of your revenge as you trash talk to him.

"That's right. It's no one but youuuuu! Hahahahaha!!"

Nikolai wants to prove to you that he's still strong and nobody can defeat him, but he realizes there's noway he can imply that other by a sulky attitude, which he reluctantly suffices to.

You hold his favorite snack in front of him and shake it, smiling wildly. "Come on darling! Have some! Eh? What are you waiting for? Awwwww! You can't? Then I'll help myself!"

You shoved the entire thing in your mouth and laughed hysterically.

"Nom nom* tastes nom* heavenly! No wonder you never let me have a bite!"

Nikolai is starting to feel a little guilty now. He didn't know that his teasings have made you a spiteful whore.

"You hate babies so much, and now you are one! That's the scariest punishment itself! Can you feel the power of karma? It's a bitch, ain't it? Well, now that you can't talk anymore, I have something to say to you!"

You bend over until there's a small gap between you, pointing at his tiny figure. The bullying attitude is all gone and instead, there's soft glare lying in your eyes.

"I want one of these. Give me one when you get back, Kolya"

You're wrong. This is the scariest punishment.

↳Saigiku Jouno

"Thank you for the meal!"

Jouno is upset. There are many unfortunate things happening for him at the moment. He doesn't like to be a baby. He doesn't want to be unable to do anything other than crying, pooping, eating and sleeping. More importantly, he doesn't want to feel your teeth on his cheeks.

"Mhm, so soft and squishy!" You smile sweetly and look at his puffy cheeks, stained with your bite marks in crimson. "I could just eat you up now, 'giku. You tatse so sweet!"

Anyone who hears this would be happy and blush slightly, but Jouno wasn't one of them, as he tilts his head and looks away, having the most adorable pout on his lips.

Grumpy as always.

"C'mon now, it's not that bad! Look on the bright side! Everyone will have to do everything for you since you can't do it yourself"

Jouno tilts his head back, his eyebrows jumped in surprise.

"Right, that wasn't a really good example of the bright side"

Sighing, you lay next to him on the matress, hands traveling through his white locks. His muscles relax a little bit as he gives into your warmth, nuzzling his head in your chest. You hum with a soft beam, inhaling his baby scent.

"You smell very nicely too, 'giku. Don't be too depressed about this. It's not the end of the world. We'll find a way to turn you back eventually. Plus..."

You lightly pat his back, pressing a lingering kiss on his forehead. "I can have you all to myself, since you can't go on any missions and leave me here all alone anymore"

Yeah, Jouno thinks, maybe it's not that awful after all.

↳Ranpo Adogawa

"Ouch! Why you- let go of my hair you aggressive baby!"

Ranpo cries a whine out and pulls your hair harder, leading you to scream back even louder.

"Stop it! What is wrong with you? I dont care how upset you are, I'm not gonna give you any sweets- ow ow ow!! Ranpo- I said let go of my fucking hair you dumbass!"

Your angry shout startles the dark haired baby. It's not just that he's little, you'd never talked like this to him before. Slowly loosening his grip on your hair, he starts sobbing quietly, covering his face with his chubby hands. This breaks your heart.

"Nooo... I'm sorry sweetie! Mommy- Aunty- god I dont even know what I am to you anymore! Whatever- I'm sorry ok? But you can't eat sweets baby boy, you're smart enough to know that, right?"

Smart enough to know that?? Huh!

Ranpo sees right through your little plan. He knows all these little tricks inside out- hell he was the one who taught you all of them; but what pisses him off is how it's working on him even though he knows your true intention.

The smirk you've been holding back shamelessly appears on your face when he wears a serious expression, nodding like someone who's given an important task and is determined to do it carefully and correctly, then points at your boobs.

Your smile instantly fades away.

"Shit. I'm not doing that"

↳Chuuya Nakahara

"Your struggle is hilarious to me"

Baby Chuuya watched you with a threatening glare. He was clearly unhappy about this situation, and you enjoying his frustration was not going to help him at all.

"I know you really need it right now, but honestly, I don't think your little tummy can digest that"

Merely ignoring you, he tried to open the bottle of wine he was struggling to hold with his chubby feet; but every time he pulled, the bottle would slip out of his not so tight grasp. He couldn't use his ability on it, since the bottle would sink into his little body. He couldn't even roll over on the bed, and his so called nanny was laughing instead of helping him.

Forget about all the things he'd been through. This was the true misery.

"Alright. Give me the bottle"

He didn't seem to agree, because he immediately hugged the bottle with all the strength he had, like it was his dearest thing. Your serious expression showed that you weren't going to give up either.

"You give me that bottle mister or you won't get extra milk tonight"

Reluctantly, he opened his arms and you snatched the bottle, putting it somewhere high. When you turned around, you saw him sulking.

"Don't be like that baby, you know you can't drink that right now. I thought you were a reasonable person hmm?"

The cute pout resting on his lips made you giggle and bend down to kiss his cheek. He was still pretty upset, so he looked away from you. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about the little blush on his face.

You carefully held him up and looked at his tiny figure. His long hair was gone and instead, there were short ginger locks on his head. His bluebell eyes however, hadn't changed one bit, still as gorgeous as ever.

You smiled at him. "You want me to throw you up?"

He looked oblivious. He probably knew what you were talking about, but hadn't figured out whether you were serious or not.

Shaking your head to the side, you tightened your grip on his waist before throwing him up in the air, and catching him before he fell on the ground. He got so excited that he started laughing, letting out adorable baby noises.

"Aww, you like that huh? want me to do it again?"

He blinked.

"Ok! Three, two, one! Whoa!"

Chuuya had jumped higher than this before, but not once did he feel the thrill he was experiencing now. He was having the time of his life, flying in the air with no effort. Every time you threw him up, his mouth got opened wider, wider, and wider,

until vomit came out of it, landing on your chest.

There weren't any throwing and catching after that, since you were too busy looking at the vomit, shocked. But it wasn't him vomiting that caught you off guard, it was the vomit. It wasn't milk, it was wine.

"Ok, we need to talk about your drinking problem when you turn back to an adult"

All rights reserved © 2023 AshTheMadWriter. Please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured II

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: A look back to when there was Mami and Jenni

Before Mami is injured and before there is Olga, there is Jenni.

"Hola, hola," She greets as she lets herself into your home.

You're on your special time playmat with your trains, making them crash into each other while Mami is sitting with you. She's playing trains the normal way and it's a bit boring but you let her because it makes her happy.

"Hola, Jenni," Mami says, abandoning her trains to kiss Jenni when she thinks you're not watching.

"How are my favourite girls today?"

"Trains go crash!" You report, slamming your Thomas against your Percy and laughing gleefully.

"She's just learnt that trains can hit each other," Mami says fondly, stealing another kiss.

"Are you having fun?" Jenni asks you and you grunt your affirmation," That's good."

You grunt again and reach for Mami's Gordon to slam against your Thomas.

"She looks...occupied," Jenni whispers, wiggling her eyebrows.

Alexia rolls her eyes and slaps Jenni in the chest in warning. "No," She says," I'm not leaving my baby alone just so you can get laid."

"So dirty-minded," Jennie teases, tapping Alexia's nose with her finger," I would never dream of abandoning the baby to get in your pants."

"Not baby!" You insist, only really catching the end of their conversation," Big girl!"

Jenni chuckles, swinging you up into her arms. "And what a big girl you are! Look at you! So big!"

"I am!" You agree," Mami, Jenni says I'm big!"

"You're very big," Mami promises you and you nod in acknowledgement, turning back to your trains.

Jenni toes off her boots and heads to the kitchen to put away the groceries. She watches as Alexia returns to playing with you, letting you run your trains over the skin of her arms and crashing them into her socked feet.

"Jenni!" You call out to her," We play tonight?"

"We can play now." She gives you a silly smile as she sits on your other side. "Have you got any trains for me?"

You think for a moment before reaching into your toy box. "You can be Toby Tram," You say," And the Fat Controller."

Alexia smothers her laughter at the semi-insulted look on Jenni's face as she takes the toys from you.

"Why can't I be James? Or maybe Edward?" Jenni asks.

You give her a look that can only be described as condescending. "Because they're sleeping, Jenni," You say, shaking your head," Mami put them to bed."

"That's right," Mami says," I did."

"You have to be Toby or the Fat Controller. You can be Cranky if you want."

Your Cranky crane is at the very bottom of your toy box because he's your least favourite but you'll let Jenni be him if she really wants to.

She winces. "I think I'm good with Toby."

"And the Fat Controller," You continue for her, pushing the two figures together. You slam Thomas against Toby and Mami gets up to make dinner.

You and Jenni play peacefully with each other as Mami cooks and, somehow, you end up sitting in Jennie's lap when you grow bored of your trains.

Her fingers card through your hair as you babble about the day you had with your babysitter. Her arms wrap around you easily as you continue to talk, wiggling your feet happily when her nails scratch lightly at the base of your neck.

Alexia watches you both with a smile as she plates up the food, effortlessly balancing all three in her hands as she comes back. She places them all on the sofa and scoops you up into her arms.

"Dinnertime," She says and you whine.

"Mami!" You say," Was playing!"

"Really?" Alexia replies, amused," Because it looked like Jenni was sending you to sleep with her magic fingers."

Jenni smirks over your head and winks. "You'd know all about my magic fingers."

"Jenni!" Alexia hisses," The baby!"

"Not a baby!" You say," Big girl!"

"The biggest big girl," Jenni promises you, settling on one side of the sofa while Alexia settles on the other and you get squished between them.

Mami puts on an animated movie for you to watch as you feed yourself (although it's more like you getting distracted and her and Jenni taking turns spooning food into your mouth). Sometimes, when they think you're particularly distracted, they will lean over the top of your head and kiss.

You catch them a few times and both times, they go a little red before trying to distract you with more food. It gets to the point that you don't even want to look at them when you feel one of them move to kiss the other.

After dinner, Jenni gives you a bath and helps you play with your bath toys as your pyjamas get nice and warm on the radiator. Mami pops in a few times to give Jenni your bubble bath mixture but she's on the phone with someone so she doesn't stay long.

Jenni dries you off and gets you all snuggly in your Thomas the Tank Engine pyjamas and guides you to your room.

Mami's already there waiting and you get bundled up into bed as Jenni plucks a book from your bookshelf to read. Her voice is upbeat and Mami does the silly voice for all of the characters.

It makes you sleepy and you're all nice and warm between your Mami and Jenni.

You yawn and Mami takes this as time to switch off your big light while Jenni finally turns on your special nightlight that projects stars onto your ceiling.

"Night, night," Alexia says even though she knows that you're already asleep, slipping out of the door with Jenni behind her.

You don't answer (she didn't expect you to) and you snuggle against your soft pillows as you drift off.

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

[pablitogavii]

Hi I love reading your stories soooo much that I love to read each and every one of them every day!

I was wondering if u can make a story that reader was spending the day with her boyfriend Gavi, and his parents house and his aunt or someone in his family has a little baby, and reader is so attach to it. Like she’s loves holding the baby also even fed and put the baby to sleep. Gavi is finding that adorable how reader had the biggest smile while being with the baby. I will just let you imagine the rest.

It’s fine if u can’t write it but thank you if u do!

Babysitter

Today we were going to spend the day with Pablo's family at home which made your boy very excited because he was quite busy last month with his tour and he really missed his family.

"Welcome! We're so happy to see you both!" Belen opened the door smiling brightly at you and Pablo and as you stepped into the house his little cousins immediately jumped into his arms screaming his name.

Pablo chuckled carrying them and talking to them while Belen led you to the living room where his aunt was breastfeeding her newborn babygirl.

"Oh my goodness, she is so small.." you say sitting down looking at her precious face while Pablo's aunt held your hand with a smile nodding her head.

"She's a fighter..we got her a whole week early" she said and you nodded hearing the rest of her story while looking at the baby's precious little face.

"Do you want to hold her?" she said and you were unsure but she reassured you that it would be fine while slowly giving you the little child who immediately smiled in your face.

Pablo came in at that same exact moment feeling his heart flutter when he saw you with the baby in your arms and the most beautiful smile plastered on your face.

"Come see your new niece Pablito" his aunt said and Pablo smiled blushing a little when suddenly both her and his mom smirked catching him stare with you in awe with a baby in your hands.

"Look at her cariño..she's so small and precious" you say walking to him and he smiled at the little girl moving one finger closer and she held it smiling brightly.

"What's her name tía?" Pablo said chuckling when the baby brought his finger to her mouth and you giggled at her reaction.

"Sonia..and she has the same attitude as you did Pablito..remember how cranky he got when you wouldn't breastfeed him?" she said and that made Pablo even more embarrassed since you were giving him teasing eyes.

"Ah it was just awful querida..he would pull on my nipple for hours until his tummy was full..all Gavira kids are the same, so good luck to you in the future" Belen winked at you making you chuckle while Pablo's face was now bright red.

"Mamá!" he said while all the women were laughing at how easily the boys get embarrassed.

"Shh..shh..it's alright preciosa.." you rocked her softly when she started crying and that made her quickly stop and hold onto your hair while closing her eyes. Pablo was stunned at how good you were with babies and how perfect you looked with one in your arms.

"Díos! You're a natural chica! If you could keep her calm just so I finish this coffee I will love you forever??" she said and you chuckled nodding your head and going to sit outside with the baby where it was quiet so she can sleep. Pablo followed after you quickly.

When he sat down you showed him to keep quiet and he nodded smiling brightly while looking at the two of you sitting there looking absolutely perfect.

Your curls were falling into your face until he tucked them behind your ear listening as you gently sang a lullaby rocking the little girl only slightly from time to time.

"She's so perfect Pablo.." you smile and he does as well nodding his head and reaching his arm so that it was around you and you could rest your head on his shoulder which you did.

"This will be us one day princesa.." he says and you felt frozen with a smile only growing and now your own cheeks blushing red. Of course you wanted a family, and with Pablo, but hearing him say he is planning kids with you was definitely something special.

"Do you think we will be any good in it?" you ask and he giggled nodding his head and kissing on top of yours.

"You're already perfect with her..so I know you will be great. I might need your help from time to time but I promise to learn fast and help the best I can." he says and you smile nodding your head knowing that he will be absolutely the best dad one day.

"How are our babysitters doing??" Belen and Pablo's aunt asked a bit louder that we both jumped saying "shh!" in union making them giggle as we blushed.

"Looks like they are taking their new roles seriously querida! Here's some milk if she gets more hungry when she wakes up.." they said leaving us a bottle and joining the party.

"If it's too much I can take her back and you two can go enjoy the music?" his aunt asked when Belen left but when Pablo saw how sad you got at the thought of letting go of the baby he smile shaking his head.

"No, it's alright tía. Go enjoy your day off! We will babysit her" he says and the woman didn't have to be told twice since she really needed to take a breather and recharge.

"Thank you Pablito..I'm really enjoying this" you said and he smiled nodding his head and kissing your lips quickly before Sonia started to wake up slowly.

"Give me the bottle cariño.." you said but Pablo was already ahead of you angling the bottle closer until the little girl took it starting to suck on it and give you beautiful eyes.

"We're such a good team huh princesa??" Pablo smiled while feeding her and you blushed nodding your head before resting it back onto your boyfriend's shoulder.

"If your aunt ever needs help, we can babysit Sonia again?" you ask and Pablo smiled at your puppy dog eyes nodding his head and kissing your forehead.

"Of course we can princesa" he said and you smiled nodding your head feeling yourself very sleepy when Pablo started to hum the same song you were previously singing to Sonia. Before you knew it, both you and Sonia were fast asleep and Pablo smiled down at the two of you.

"Tía is leaving soon..gracias for babysitting and giving her a day off hijo" Belen walked up smiling at you before whispering to Pablo.

"De nada mamá..I love this girl..so much..and she is perfect..in every way she is perfect..when I saw how she was with Sonia, I was stunned..I want her to care for our baby like that one day" Pablo opened up to his mom who listened before leaning down and kissing her son's head.

"She will hijo..if you are a good man and treat her right, there is no reason you two wouldn't have your own little anjo one day" she spoke and Pablo nodded his head smiling up at her.

"I will always treat her right má" Pablo said and the woman nodded proudly.

"Tú eres un hombre bueno..even though you will always be my baby Pablito" he booped his nose making him blush and roll his eyes playfully before thanking her.

"Amor..wake up princesa..we gotta go home" Pablo woke you slowly with kisses on your head and as you moved Sonia woke up too but she didn't cry.

"How is my princesa Sonia huh??" his aunt took her and the little girl was smiling brightly while you rubbed your eyes getting up and feeling Pablo's strong arms pull you closer.

"If you ever need us to babysit again, please let me know tía" Pablo said and the woman nodded quickly petting his head like she did when he was a little boy.

"Thank you so much! Both of you! You definitely grew up Pablito..and you found yourself the perfect girl. I'm very proud of you!" she said and you blushed thanking her on kind words before saying bye to Sonia.

When you arrived home and changed into your satin pajamas, Pablo felt himself getting excited. You laid down and he immediately pulled your body back so that his hard on brushed against your butt.

"How about we work on that baby right now princesa??" he smirked kissing your neck and you giggled turning around and slapping his arm knowing it was way too early for that now.

"Be serious Pablo!" you say as he pulled you in kissing your lips passionately leaving you breathless when you pulled away.

"Maybe you're right..it's too early..but just because we can't make a baby doesn't mean you can't give me some loving princesa? Hm?" he looked pleadingly going crazy from how hard he was and you chuckled kissing his lips while your hand traveled down his naked chest.

"Mhm.." you mumbled into the kiss and that was all the words he needed to her..;)

#pablo gavi x you #fc barca #fc barcelona #fc barça #gavi #gavigif #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi icons #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #gavi x reader #gavi x vini #gavi x yn #gavi x you #pablogavixreaderfluff #pablogavixreadersmut

[stevie-petey]

episode four: the body

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal.  “Hey! Henderson!” “Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you.  His unexpected shouting causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you.  “Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?”

summary: you basically have a "no babe don't cry over ur dead brother ur so sexy" moment with jonathan, hopper plays mr love doctor (cute date idea: coffin shopping), and somehow nancy wheeler makes you realize that you're a horrible babysitter and an even bigger idiot. meanwhile: steve harrington is frustratingly charming.

rating: general but plenty of cursing as usual.

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, and use of y/n.

words: 8k

before you swing in: hello ! happy eve of a spending time with loved ones, however ya choose to celebrate or not celebrate and all that jazz. i hope y'all are well and doing okay :) a LOT happens in this chapter, so buckle up. so many feelings and revelations my god. also this chapter is one i really loved writing purely because i got to explore more of steve and reader so ,,, ya welcome ! (hopefully i was able to clear up jonathans thoughts and how he processes, i really want it to come across as someone hurt and overwhelmed rather than just him being cranky lmao). anyways, enjoy !!

-

It’s a quiet morning.

You roll over, the sunlight streaming through your curtains, and for a moment you forget. It’s a blissful moment, sweet naivety that strokes your cheek and coaxes your eyes open. As you throw your arms over your head and stretch, last night’s events haven’t caught up to you quite yet. 

Then you feel Jonathan’s body next to yours and for a moment you’re confused. He never sleeps in your bed whenever he spends the night, being ever the gentleman. No matter how many times you offer, he always insists on respecting your mother’s wishes and sleeping on the giant beanbag chair within your room, and it always makes your heart warm. 

Your mother had specifically bought the beanbag for Jonathan when you were thirteen. He had been spending more and more nights at your home, sneaking in through your window to avoid his parents fighting. At first he would simply fall asleep on your carpet, despite your many reassurances that he could sleep in your bed, so when your mom unexpectedly barged into your room one morning and saw him lying face down on the ground, she freaked. 

Once you had explained everything to her (with Jonathan’s permission), she had shoved you guys into her car, dropped him off at his house, and then found the beanbag at a garage sale for $10. 

“This way, he’ll have a place to sleep that’s soft and cozy, away from my young daughter,” she had said during the drive home. You had covered your face in embarrassment at her implication, but you were also incredibly proud to call her your mom at that moment. She may be overbearing at times, but she was the kindest woman you’ve ever met. 

You rub your eyes and glance at the bean bag that sits between your bed and wall, its dusty blue color almost glowing in the early morning light. Then you glance at Jonathan, who has woken up before you, and notice the redness in his eyes and the dark circles now darker than ever. 

Then it all comes rushing back to you. 

Will’s body in the quarry. 

Holding your brother as he mourned his friend. 

El, so quiet and shy and sweet, running away after your cruel dismissal. 

Jonathan showing up to your window hours later, broken and devastated. 

Then, late into the night, the two of you falling asleep, side by side in your bed, both needing each other more than ever before. 

The two of you get ready without saying anything. You hand Jonathan some spare clothes of his that you keep in a drawer before giving him some space as you go and take a shower. You spend longer than usual getting ready, but you pay no attention to the clock. There’s no way you’re going to school today. You’re not leaving Jonathan alone for even a second. 

Jonathan finishes getting ready before you do and waits in your room. Neither of you have said anything yet, last night being too fresh in your memories, but words aren’t needed between the two of you. 

You take his hand and lead him into your kitchen and wordlessly hand him a banana. He stares at you, and you stare back, silently challenging him to decline the food. He needs to eat. You’ve noticed how thin he’s gotten with everything happening. 

He sighs, knowing he won’t win this fight, and takes a bite out of the banana in a mocking manner, but you’re just relieved he’s eating. 

You grab your own breakfast before writing a note for your mom, informing her that you’ll be with Jonathan today and promising to make up any missed assignments as soon as you can. Then you quietly go into Dustin’s room to check up on him, but his bed is empty. You glance at his alarm clock and note the early hour, he doesn’t normally leave for school for another thirty minutes, which makes you frown. 

Where the hell did the kid run off to?

An uneasy feeling settles over you, but you don’t have time to question anything. Knowing Dustin, he ran off to school earlier than usual to see his friends and distract himself from last night. While your mom offered you both to stay home for the rest of the week due to Will’s death, neither of you have ever been good at staying put and dealing with your emotions.

Wherever your brother is, you know he needs his space.

Once everything is settled, you join Jonathan in his car and drive to his place. While he never explicitly asked you to this morning, you know that you’re going to his house with him to help him deal with his mother and the funeral preparations. 

He doesn’t have to ask, and you don’t have to tell him that you’ll help. 

You both just know. 

About halfway to his place, Jonathan finally speaks. 

“The cops say that Will crashed his bike and fell into the quarry,”

“Jonathan, we don’t have to talk about it right now-”

“My mom doesn’t believe that he’s dead. She-she insists that he’s in the walls, that he can speak through-through… Christmas lights.”

His voice shakes as he speaks, and you can’t tell if it’s due to grief or anger. 

“Will is dead and my mom chooses to believe that there’s some monster in our walls that took him.”

“A monster?” you think about El and her powers and the fear on the boys’ faces when she pulled out the Demogorgon piece. Then you remember the other night at the Byers’ home when Joyce came running outside as the lights were flickering wildly. Her fear had been genuine. 

“A fucking monster that’s hiding in our walls. She wouldn’t… she wouldn’t listen, Y/N. I tried talking to her, to calm her down, but she just…” His words fade off, and he clenches his jaw as tightens his hands around the steering wheel. 

You’re not sure what to say. It’s a tough situation, a fucking heartbreaking one, and it’s all so unfair. Jonathan needs his mom, but his mom needs Will. 

You rest your hand behind his head and allow your fingers to rub circles against his skin. He leans into your touch, and for now this is all you can do. 

The state of the Byers’ home has only gotten worse since the last time you were there. There’s now letters painted on the wall and string lights placed all throughout the house. There’s also clothes in random corners and trash thrown around. 

Jonathan had been staying in this house alone, watching his mother spiral. Your stomach twists with guilt. 

You should’ve been there more for him, but instead you allowed your petty need to help everyone distract you from what’s important. 

Joyce is passed out on the couch with an ax clutched between her hands, which breaks your heart even more. Jonathan walks over to wake her up and you give the two of them some privacy as you head into the kitchen to make Joyce some breakfast. 

Their fridge is barren, but you aren’t surprised. You make do with the few eggs you find and get to work; it isn’t much, but it’ll have to do. As you prepare breakfast, you notice a stack of Will’s drawings on the kitchen table, which causes you to gag with remorse. 

There’s still so much of Will within these walls, his entire childhood still locked inside, untouched, and yet the house lacks his presence. 

He’s gone. 

– 

You wait with Hopper in the morgue waiting room, nervously tapping your foot and frantically trying to distract yourself with a comic. The words blur together in your head and the images float around. You can’t focus on anything. For once, Spidey’s quips and banter can’t distract you from reality. 

Not only are you incredibly worried for Joyce and Jonathan, but the thought of Will’s body being a wall away from you sends chills down your spine. You can’t imagine what’s happening behind the doors, and you’re secretly relieved that you’ll never know. 

“What’s taking so long?” Hopper’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

You put your comic down and listen, figuring that it’s best if you’re caught up on everything so that you can store away any useful information for later. 

The front desk lady sighs. “Well, everything’s been a bit chaotic around here without Gary.”

This catches Hopper’s attention. “Without Gary?”

“I thought you knew. Those men from State, they… they sent Gary home last night.”

Now this catches your attention. Why would the State replace the town’s coroner? 

“So who did the autopsy?” 

“Someone from State.” 

Hopper looks at you, almost as if to ask if you’re also hearing this, and you give him a slight nod. It’s odd, really damn odd. 

“Why would they send someone for a little boy?” You ask Hopper, but he only shakes his head in response. 

In the back of your mind, you think about what El had warned you of. The bad men, the people she has to hide from… it didn’t make sense at the time, but now…

Your thoughts are cut off as Jonathan runs out the door, his hand over his mouth, and you immediately get up to help him outside. He throws up against the wall outside, and you wince at the smell. You’ve never been good with people getting sick, but Jonathan needs you right now, so you rub soothing circles on his back as he throws up. Once he’s done, you head back inside and wait for Joyce. 

You offer Jonathan a tissue before coaxing him to rest his head on your shoulder. Having nothing else to do, yet urgently wanting to help, you begin to read him some panels from your comic. He doesn’t say anything, so you take it as a sign to keep going. Your voice is hoarse from all your crying, but you read aloud anyways. 

Hopper watches your interaction with a small interest. You don’t notice his curious eyes and the way they seem to glint with sincerity. In his eyes, the two of you will get together soon enough. 

After a couple minutes, Hopper finally asks Jonathan how Joyce is holding up. The boy straightens up, but grabs your hand to steady himself, and responds as best as he can. He explains the lights, the letters on the wall, everything. 

“She’s had anxiety problems in the past, but this…? I don’t know.” He takes a shaky breath, and you draw reassuring patterns on the back of his hand. “I’m worried it could be… god, I don’t know.”

“She’s grieving,” you remind him, and he nods. 

“Yeah, she’s grieving, but she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay; my mom, she’s tough.”

“Like Spider-Man,” you say, though you don’t really mean to. You’re tired and the words just slip out, but Jonathan begins to laugh. 

“Yeah, like Spider-Man, you’re right. Thanks, bug.” 

“Anytime, bee.” 

Jonathan smiles at you, still softly laughing, and it’s then that you realize. He hasn’t laughed in days, he’s hardly even smiled, and yet here he is, smiling at the stupid nickname you gave him and laughing at the stupid joke you didn’t even mean to say; you realize you’d do anything to get him to laugh again, to give you that smile that he’s only ever reserved for you. He squeezes your hand and his eyes shine for a moment with a familiar warmness that has always made you weak. 

It hits you like a cold, cruel wave on a harsh winter day. 

You’re in love with Jonathan. 

Fuck.

It’s horrible timing, and you feel sick with guilt for realizing that you love your best friend merely hours after his brother has died, but now it’s all you can think about. 

You love him, you love him more than you’ve ever loved anything before, but you can’t tell him. It wouldn’t be fair, and you don’t have the time. 

You’re thankful when Hopper begins to talk again, reiterating that Joyce is tough, so that you have the time to process your newfound feelings. 

Then Joyce comes crashing through the door, screaming about how whatever is in the other room isn’t Will, ignoring everyone who tells her to calm down. Both you and Jonathan stand up to calm her down, your comic dropping to the ground in the process, but she doesn’t listen and instead runs outside. 

“Mom!” Jonathan follows after her. 

You sigh and tuck your hair behind your ears before picking up the comic. You know that Jonathan needs to be alone with Joyce right now, give them some privacy, it’s a personal matter. More personal than anything else, and yet you also selfishly don’t want to be near him for a few moments so you can collect yourself as well. 

As you’re gathering your things, Hopper clears his throat. 

“Do you love him?”

You freeze, having not expected such a personal question. You’ve only just realized your feelings for him, how the hell has Hopper already figured it out? “What does it matter? His brother is dead and his mom is losing it.”

Hopper rubs his hand over his face, giving you a warning look. “But do you love the kid?”

It’s the way he says it, like it means life or death, that has you respond, “I do.”

“Take care of him, then.” He looks you in the eyes as he says it, urging you to understand the weight of his words, and you do. 

You’ve heard about how his daughter had died and his wife divorced him soon after. They’d only ever been rumors to you, but now you know that they’re true. He’s telling you to take care of Jonathan, that your love for him means that you have to take care of him in a way that no one else can. 

In a way, you suppose that you and Hopper aren’t so different after all, and you gain a new sense of respect for the man. 

You swallow deeply and nod at him before excusing yourself to follow after Jonathan and Joyce. 

– 

The mother and son in question are a few blocks down the street, Joyce waving her son away as he follows her with the car. 

You sigh. 

This day definitely sucks. 

Running up to them is a pain in the ass, honestly. You get that you gave them some privacy, but damn. Did Jonathan seriously have to take the car as well? 

When you finally catch up, he’s parking. “Hey, what are you-” 

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he turns the engine off and runs after his mom. 

“Seriously?” You groan, clutching at a stitch in your side from running. Usually you’re a great runner, actually choosing to go for a run whenever you’re particularly stressed out or anxious. However with the shitshow that this week has been, you haven’t gone on your morning run in a while and you’re starting to feel the effects of being out of practice. 

Joyce, being surprisingly fast, is hard to catch up with, but you do your best as Jonathan sprints ahead of you. When he finally reaches her, he grabs at her jacket with a determined look in his eyes. 

You hang back, now regretting the fact that you left the coroner’s office in the first place. 

“Mom, stop!” 

“Just go home, Jonathan.”

“No, this is not an okay time for you to shut down.”

“Shut down… what-” The confusion in Joyce’s eyes is enough to make you feel Jonathan’s frustration as well. You feel for the woman, you really do, but she has another son to worry about. Jonathan is still here, he’s lost his own baby brother, he needs his mom now more than ever.

But Joyce, too lost in her own grief and desperation, can’t see that. 

“We have to deal with this, mom. We have to deal with the funeral!” You’ve never heard Jonathan raise his voice at his mom before, but after days of begging for her attention, you’re proud of him for defending himself.

The word “funeral” seems to snap Joyce out of her daze and once again she goes on her tangent about how Will’s body isn’t really back at the morgue, that he’s still alive, and Jonathan’s anger in his voice makes you ache. 

As he and his mom continue to yell at one another, a few nosy people in the town area stand and watch. They whisper to each other, no doubt about how Will’s death has made Joyce Byers crazy, and you kick a few rocks at them. 

“Fuck off! At least pretend that you aren’t a bunch of nosy assholes like most decent people do.” A woman sneers at you, but you wave your arms above your head, “Oh! Scary! Get fucked!” 

Eventually they do as they’re told and walk away from the screaming mother and son, which pleases you. 

You really hope that random lady wasn’t a patron of Bookstrordinary though. 

“Yeah, well, while you’re talking to the lights, Y/N and I will be planning a funeral for Will!” Jonathan’s voice is laced with bitterness as he screams at his mother, breaking your heart even more. “I’m not letting him sit in that freezer another day!” 

Joyce storms off, but you notice that her shoulders shake with tears as she leaves. 

It’s such a devastating situation, and while you’re also frustrated with the way she’s been treating Jonathan, you also know that maybe her craziness isn’t exactly “crazy”. El is still out there, even if you’re not sure where, and you think about how she was able to control the comic book and the game pieces. The static electricity you felt in the air when she used her powers, the same static you felt at the Byers’ home a few nights ago when Joyce came running outside with the lights flashing and Will’s song playing on the radio.

But then you think about how El promised that Will was alive. 

He isn’t; you see his dead body every time you close your eyes. 

So really, what is there to believe?

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Jonathan walking towards you until he grasps at your arm and flings you along back to the car with him. He’s breathing heavily and you notice that he’s shaking. He’s in no condition to drive. 

As you near the car you quickly reach around and grab his keys from his pocket before running over to the driver’s side and throwing yourself into the seat. Jonathan hates when you drive the car, not because you’re a bad driver, but because some part of him truly believes it’s impolite to make a girl drive. 

As cute as you think his chivalry is, today you couldn’t give more of a damn. 

Jonathan stands outside your door. “Y/N-”

“Nope, no time to argue, Byers. Get in.” 

“But-” 

“In.”

He does as he’s told, albeit with some attitude, but eventually the two of you are off. Without having to ask, you drive to the local funeral home. While you and Jonathan are similar in many ways, the one thing that pulls you together is planning. You both cling onto the stability that planning provides, and right now Jonathan is clinging onto his responsibilities for Will’s funeral.

Like he told his mom earlier, you and him have a funeral to plan. 

The funeral home is closer to the edge of Hawkins, so the drive is a longer one. Along the way Jonathan slowly begins to calm down, untensing his shoulders and releasing his clenched jaw. You let him take all the time he needs, thankful that for now you have some time to yourself to reflect over today’s revelation.

You love Jonathan. 

Those three words are heavy within your chest, and you almost don’t want to think about them, but you know that sooner or later you’ll have to. You glance at Jonathan, the late fall sun casts a warm glow on his face that for a brief moment brings back the boy you knew only a week ago, before everything changed. Then he turns to face you and you see the red in his eyes, his cheeks sunken in, and you know that you don’t have the time to unravel whatever you feel for him. 

He needs his best friend right now.

Jonathan’s voice breaks you from your thoughts, his voice cracking a bit from disuse. “Can we talk about yesterday?” 

You cast him a quick glance. “Yesterday?”

“Our… our fight, I guess.” 

“Oh,” you shift your hands on the steering wheel, now suddenly painfully aware of the silence within the car. “We don’t have to right now, bee. We should be focusing on the funeral arrangements.” 

Your voice catches on the word “funeral”, it still hasn’t sunk in yet that Will is really gone. 

“Bug, for the past eighteen hours all I’ve been thinking about is Will,” he takes a shaky breath and you gently place a hand on his, encouraging him to keep talking, “but when I’m not thinking about him… I’m thinking about you and what-what you said yesterday.” 

“I said a lot yesterday-” 

Jonathan gives you a pleading look. “Please just let me get this out, okay?”

You purse your lips but remain silent. 

“I will never, ever deserve you. This week and my actions have proven that. This isn’t some pathetic attempt to make you pity me, I was an asshole to you and I recognize that. You love people in a way that terrifies me, Y/N. You’re my best friend and I think I would actually die if I ever lost you.”

A snort escapes your lips, “you probably would.”

“I definitely would, but this isn’t about me. I’m so, so sorry for how I’ve been treating you lately and the fact that you’re driving me to a funeral home after watching my mom have a meltdown in the town square without even batting an eye is all the more proof that you’re too good for me.” 

“I wouldn’t say too good, but yeah. Close enough.”

“It’s more than enough, bug. That’s what terrifies me: I’m afraid that I’ll never be able to repay you for all that you’ve done for me, even before Will disappeared; you’ve been taking care of me since we were twelve.”

His words hang in the air as you allow them to wash over you. There’s so much you want to disagree with, namely the fact that he doesn't deserve you, but you know that he wouldn’t want to hear your arguments. 

Again you think about how similar the two of you are, and while you both give your all to the people that you love, your love comes freely while Jonathan has grown up believing that it comes with conditions. It’s never been a problem in your relationship until now, but you guess with how much you’ve been overcompensating for everything, the need to return it all has caught up with him. 

Finally, you speak. “You feel that you can’t accept my help because I’ve already done enough for you. Is that it?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan takes a deep breath. “I know it’s stupid, especially because I’m asking for your help right now with the funeral preparations, but…”

“I understand, but we’ll get through it,” you pull into the funeral home parking lot and turn the car off. “We always do, right?” 

“Right,” Jonathan’s smile is a weak one, but you accept it nonetheless. 

“Now, you ready to go look at children’s coffins like real men and women do?” 

He laughs at your poor attempt at a joke, but even he can admit that objectively the entire situation is morbid. “Only real best friends go coffin shopping together.” 

“My thoughts exactly, good sir.” Then, before you forget, you reach over and whack Jonathan’s head with the back of your hand. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

You shrug your shoulders, “ask Nancy.”

And with that, you unbuckle your seatbelt and head into the funeral home, trusting that Jonathan will follow eventually enough. Things aren’t exactly the same between the two of you, especially with your newfound feelings for him, but it’s a start. 

“I deserved that,” you hear Jonathan grumble, which makes you smile. 

You’ll take whatever you can get.

– 

You spot Nancy before Jonathan does. 

It wasn’t intentional, really, but the funeral home director was droning on and on about the different wood selections for coffins and finishes that you can customize and it all makes you want to throw up; the coffins before you are so small, you weren't really paying attention in the first place. 

She stands in the doorway and motions for you to get Jonathan’s attention, who is deeply focused on everything the old man is saying. A part of you wants to ignore the girl, but the scared look on her face tells you that this is something serious. 

You nudge your shoulder against Jonathan’s and point at Nancy; he excuses the two of you as you walk towards her. 

Jonathan shoves his hands in his pockets, a bit guarded. “Hey,”

“Hey, your mom, um… said you’d be here.” 

“You talked to Mrs. Byers?” You ask, feeling a sudden possessiveness over the woman. Sure, you were kind of okay sharing Jonathan with Nancy so long as she was with Harrington, but Joyce? She’s like a second mother to you.

It made you uneasy that Joyce even talked to her in the first place. 

Nancy tilts her head at you. “Yeah, it was only for a brief moment though. She seemed pretty… distracted.” 

“No shit. Her son died, Nancy.” 

The girl flinches a bit at your tone, which causes Jonathan to yank at your sleeve and shove you behind him. “Ignore her, we’ve had… Well, it’s been a long day.” 

You feel your shoulders drop and unclench your fists. “Sorry, is everything okay? Is it the boys?”

“No, they’re fine, I just,” Nancy’s eyes shoot towards you, uncertain, before directing them towards Jonathan. “Can we talk for a second?”

The photos Nancy shows you makes your blood run cold. They start with Barb sitting alone by the pool, but slowly she pulls out more and more pieces of the torn picture to create a terrifying image with a shadow-like figure looming over her friend. 

Jonathan tries to sum the shadow up to lens distortion, but you know that he’s wrong. Nancy asks more questions, trying to figure out exactly what has happened to Barb, but all you can think about is El. 

You check the time on your watch and curse. It’s late afternoon now, you’ve been gone with Jonathan since early this morning. Dustin hadn’t been in his room when you left and you stupidly assumed that he’d gone off to school. Now, seeing the picture of Barb and that thing… Something is so goddamn wrong. 

“The cops think that she ran away,” Nancy says. 

“Just like they did with Will,” you’re whispering more to yourself than to them, but Jonathan hears you anyway. 

“Maybe she did run away-” 

Nancy shakes her head. “No, she wouldn’t do that. They don’t know Barb. When I went back to Steve’s… I thought I saw something.”

Your head shoots up. “Nancy, what did you see?”

“Some weird man,” the urgence in your voice confuses the girl, but you silently push her to keep talking, “or… I don’t know what it was.”

Both you and Jonathan are quiet afterwards for very different reasons. 

He’s quiet because he probably thinks Nancy is crazy, just like his mom. 

You’re quiet because you’re currently afraid you’ve accidentally left your idiotic brother and his friends and El alone with very real monsters and possible bad men. The figure Nancy saw… El being terrified of bad people finding and hurting her…

Well shit. 

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have come here today-”

You stop Nancy from leaving. “No, you should stay… I think,” you look at Jonathan, nervous for how he may react to what you’re about to say. “I think I might have an idea of what you saw last night. A lot has happened since Will disappeared, things that I’m still trying to understand, but I think I know where to start finding an explanation.” 

Jonathan turns to you. “What? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Technically I did try telling you a few nights ago but then you yelled at me and threw a jacket at my face-” 

“You threw a jacket at Y/N?” Nancy asks, which you and Jonathan ignore. 

“But for now I can’t tell you anything else. I made a promise, and I’m not sure I’m right or even sane for considering it an explanation, but we need to leave. Now.”

“A promise? To who?” There’s an edge of hurt in Jonathan’s voice and you desperately wish you could explain more to him, but now isn’t the time. Not with Nancy sitting between you two and her own brother involved. You don’t want to cause any unnecessary worry for her; right now she needs to focus on Barb. You’ll wrangle in the boys, it’s your fault they’re even alone right now with El.

“I can’t exactly say who, but just trust me, okay? Again: I really hope I’m just insane and worried about nothing and that this will all be an embarrassing laugh for us later.”

“Y/N-”

“Jonathan, we need to go.” 

“‘We’?” Nancy now speaks up, seemingly fed up by your vague exchange with Jonathan.

You try to collect yourself and pretend like you have some amazing plan. “Yes, we. Jonathan will take you to the photo developing room at school and see if you can make the pictures clearer. On the way there, he’ll drop me off at home so I can grab my bike and head out.”

“And what will you be doing?” The boy asks.

“Tracking down my brother, unfortunately.” 

He gives you a doubtful look. “C’mon, you can’t expect me to just let you run off on your own without more of an explanation.” 

You know he’s right, but you just… you can’t tell him about El and the bad men yet. You can’t. Not until you know for sure what the hell is happening. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing… but just in case, I really need to find Dustin, okay?” 

I’m a really, really bad babysitter, you think. 

Jonathan opens his mouth again as if to argue, but you hold your hand up to silence him. You really don’t want to waste time fighting with him. He has to trust you on this, whether he likes it or not. 

He sighs with defeat, “Just be safe, please.”

You also really don’t want to put anyone else in danger. It’s bad enough that you allowed the boys to get dragged into this mess, but you refuse to drag your best friend in as well. But really, who knows? Maybe you’re just a regular idiot who believes in fairy tales and monsters, not some idiot who leaves three overly naive boys alone with a girl with superpowers. 

God you hope you’re just a regular idiot. 

However, if Joyce believes that Will is alive, even without the knowledge of El and her powers, then you’re sure that the boys also believe he’s alive and will inevitably go looking for him again. Alone. In the same woods Nancy saw that strange figure. 

You cast those thoughts out of your head and give Jonathan what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When am I not safe?”

You really, truly hope that you’re just an idiot, but if the photos that you just saw scare you. Before he can change his mind, you quickly reach over and snatch Jonathan’s keys from his jacket and give him a peck on the cheek before running out to his car.

“I call shotgun, Nancy!”

– 

Unsurprisingly, the drive with Nancy and Jonathan is an awkward one. Things are still a bit tense between you and him for reasons you’re not sure you can tell him about just yet, and now Nancy is in the backseat trying not to make any sound, so really it was a doomed car ride from the start. 

It’s not that you don’t like the girl, but there’s something about the way she acts around Jonathan that honestly makes you want to collapse. You know she’s with Harrington, but the tenderness Jonathan has shown her the few times they’ve interacted makes you uneasy. 

Yesterday you chalked the uneasiness to simply never sharing Jonathan before, but now you know the truth. 

You’re jealous because you’re in love with him. 

It’s a nauseating feeling. 

“So, how long have the two of you been friends?” Nancy’s question surprises you, mostly because she should already know the answer. You know she’s just trying to make conversation, but the question itself further reminds you of why the two of you had drifted apart in the first place. 

“I moved here when I was twelve, remember? Your family helped us move in.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry,” You see Nancy nervously playing with her fingers in the rearview mirror, which makes you feel bad. She’s trying, you know she is. 

“It’s fine,” you try to catch her eye, and when you do you give her a smile. “I know you probably don’t remember much from that day. It was the middle of the school year and our brothers immediately started being annoying together, so you had gone inside after only a couple minutes.” 

Nancy laughs, now remembering that day. “Didn’t Mike hold an initiation for Dustin that night?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh with her now. “That’s actually how Jonathan and I met. Remember, bee?” 

Jonathan’s smile is a soft one, a smile that makes you feel weak because you know you’re the reason it’s there. “Of course I do. We both showed up at the Wheeler’s house at the same time to pick up our brothers.” 

“And then-” 

“I answered the door.” Nancy finishes for you. 

“Yup. Ever since then, Jonathan hasn’t been able to get rid of me.” 

“It’s been horrible,” he says with a monotone voice, but it’s clear to everyone that he’s joking. 

You punch his shoulder. “You weren’t complaining when I saved you from those bullies later that week.” 

Jonathan gives you a pointed look and tries to subtly motion towards Nancy, clearly embarrassed that you've brought the bullies up in front of her. Like he wants her to think he’s someone cooler than he really is. 

Your smile vanishes. 

He wants to impress her. 

“Right, sorry,” you clear your throat and if Nancy notices your sudden mood change, she doesn’t say anything. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment and remind yourself that what matters right now are the boys and El. They should be your priority, not petty boy drama. 

Luckily Jonathan pulls into your driveway not long after the abrupt conversation ending, which you’re thankful for. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face Nancy, and it takes everything in you to force a smile on your face. “Alright, well, this is my stop! Nancy, I’m trusting you to tell me whatever you and Jonathan find. I’d ask him to keep me updated, but I know he’ll inevitably forget.”

The girl nods at you. “You can trust me.” 

Can I?

Although you’re not exactly sure what it is that you don’t think you can trust her with. Then, your eyes drift to Jonathan and the way he’s staring at her from his own mirror, and you realize that maybe she’s not the one you should be worried about. 

“Good,” you turn to Jonathan now. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“And I’ll answer… probably.” 

“You’re so sweet to me.”

“I know, right?” 

You snort at the boy and wave goodbye to him and Nancy before getting out of the car. Your bike is in the shed, so you motion to Jonathan that he’s good to leave. When he’s sure you’re okay, he waves at you one last time and drives away. 

It feels like you’ve made a huge mistake as you watch Jonathan and Nancy leave, but you don’t have time to think about why. Dustin’s bike isn’t in the shed alongside yours, which you expected, and you have to find him. 

Your brother and his idiotic friends need you right now. 

– 

For the second time within a week, Steve Harrington almost kills you with his stupid BMW. Granted, the first time wasn’t necessarily his fault due to your crying, but this time just felt personal. 

“Henderson!”

“Jesus christ-” You’re biking to the Wheeler’s, lost in thought as the sun begins to set, when stupid Harrington scares the shit out of you. 

His unexpected shouting from the other side of the road causes you to swerve your bike towards his car and he has to slam on his brakes to avoid hitting you. 

“Do you, like, have a fantasy about me hitting you with my car?” 

You glare at the boy. “You are a man, I am a woman. It’s getting dark outside. What exactly made you think it’s a good idea to yell out at me?”

“Well, I mean, I called after you.” He says, so matter of factly that it makes you want to strangle him. 

You hate him. You really do.

A strand of hair has fallen in your face, so you blow it away before bothering to answer. “My apologies, you called after me and almost killed me in the process.”

Steve winks at you. “Apology accepted.” 

You stare at him, unamused and still in the middle of the damn road, and after a couple beats of silence you cock your head at the boy. “Are you going to tell me what you need or…?”

“Oh,” Steve coughs, as if startled by your question. “Honestly I didn’t really have a plan when I called after you. I just kinda did, so…” 

“Right, well.” You clench your jaw in annoyance. Why are you even surprised that Harrington has wasted your time? “This was fun, let’s never do it again sometime!”

You ride off on your bike, trying to quickly get up the hill so that you can get to the Wheeler’s before it gets too dark to see. The hill is brutal and it’s almost embarrassing how long it’s taking you to get up it, and as you’re huffing and dripping in sweat, headlights come up from behind you. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you groan. 

Steve’s car is now right next to you, the fucker having done a complete u-turn to follow after you. His window is still rolled down and he has one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out his window. 

“Hello again, Henderson.” 

“I never said hello back to you.” 

“C’mon, at least pretend to be happy to see me.”

You let out another groan as you continue to struggle up the hill. “I physically cannot do that, sorry.” 

Steve, ever the comedian, responds, “It doesn’t seem like you can physically get up this hill either.” 

You don’t give him the satisfaction of laughing, but you’re a bit annoyed that his quip was funny. What a jackass, honestly. 

“Henderson,” your silence doesn’t deter the boy, “just get in the damn car already.”

Once again you almost crash into the BMW, this time because of your complete shock at his request.

“What?”

He gives you a look as if you’re the insane one in this situation. “You’re sweatier than I am after basketball, and at the rate you’re going I’d say you’ll reach your destination in about three to five business days.”

You stare at him, speechless. 

He stares back at you with a smirk on his smug little face, knowing that he’s won the argument. “Get in the car and I’ll throw your bike in the back.” 

You do as he says, your mind completely blank and still taken aback. Sweatier than him after basketball? There’s no way that’s true, and also who says that to someone they barely even know? As if you’re really that sweaty-

You see your reflection in his car mirror and wince. 

Okay, so maybe you’re a little sweaty. 

Fuck Steve Harrington. 

The boy in question tosses your bike in the trunk as you hesitantly get in the car. He watches as you sit yourself down and laughs. “It’s a car, Henderson. It won’t bite.” 

“Yeah, but you might.” You slap a hand over your mouth, embarrassed by the implications of your words. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at you as he turns the car back on. “Careful there, last I checked you’re a taken lady.”

The embarrassment you previously felt is gone, now replaced with your usual annoyance when it comes to Steve. You think about what he did yesterday to Jonathan’s camera, the cruelty in his eyes as he watched the thing shatter onto the ground. He didn’t show any remorse, and while you understand that he had been defending his girlfriend, he had taken it too far. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that Jonathan and I are just friends?” 

“Please,” Steve huffs with amusement, “the two of you have been inseparable for years. Besides, no way a guy like Byers can just be friends with a girl like you. Not scientifically possible.” 

You wrinkle your nose. “What’s ‘a girl like you’ supposed to mean?” Then another thought occurs to you, “Also, you didn’t even know my name until this week, so don’t go acting like you know my relationship with Jonathan.”

“Relax, Henderson. It was a compliment. All I meant is that you’re decently pretty, all things considered, so I wouldn’t blame Byers if he was in love with you. It’s human nature.”

“Okay, that’s just really sexist-”

“As for knowing your name only this week, you’re wrong.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask, confused. 

Steve places a hand over his chest, almost as if he’s reaching for his heart. “Apology accepted, it means a lot to me.”

“Ugh,” you scoff at him. “That wasn’t an apology and you know it. Can you just take me to the Wheeler’s, please?”

“Woah, slow down there. First I need you to tell me why you thought I didn’t know your name, then I’ll take you to my girlfriend’s house. Free of charge.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that you see some offense in Steve’s eyes for thinking he only recently learned your name, but why would he care? Besides, you know he’s never paid any attention to you before this week.

“It was literally this week that I had to tell you my name after you almost hit me with your car, Harrington.”

“Okay, hey,” the boy holds a finger up. “Actually, you almost hit me with your bike because you were too busy hysterically sobbing.”

He’s right, but you won’t tell him that. Minor details, honestly. You’re about to tell him as much before you realize what he’s said. “Wait, you knew I had been crying?”

Steve gives you a well, duh look. “Yeah, that’s why I pretended not to know your name. Figured you wouldn’t want to talk about it and the least I could do was make you laugh. And viola, I did.” 

He had willingly tried to make you laugh?

His words make you flush, which seems to only amuse him further as he chuckles at you. You wave your hand at him, now more annoyed than ever. “Okay, fine. Whatever, so you knew my name before this week, big whoop. Can you just drive now?”

“I’ll take that as an ‘I’m sorry Steve for assuming you’re an asshole who hadn’t noticed a girl you’ve known since you were thirteen’, then.” Steve takes the car out of park and begins to drive to the Wheeler’s which you’re relieved by. 

You feel uncomfortably warm after that conversation, regardless of the fact that you’re still overheated from your biking. There’s no way that Steve has seriously known about you since you were twelve and he was thirteen. No, you decide that he must be lying, playing up his usual boyish charm. He’s been this untouchable entity ever since you moved to Hawkins, so why would he have paid any attention to you?

Then your mind floats to his compliment, calling you “decently pretty”, but then again not even five minutes earlier he stated that you sweat more than he does after basketball, so really his words should mean nothing.  

And yet, after the week you’ve had and your fight with Jonathan and Will’s death and El’s mysterious powers… 

Steve’s words make you a bit giddy, embarrassingly enough. You hate that they do, because he’s Steve Harrington and he’s with Nancy who is beautiful and kind and everything you’re not. It doesn’t matter what he thinks of you. 

You pick at your nails as he drives, the car silent, and you accidentally graze against the cut on your finger from yesterday. It’s scabbed over by now, but the pain is still fresh. 

“I know that what Jonathan did was wrong, I won’t excuse his actions. Standing up for Nancy was the right thing to do and I admire you for it, really,” Steve spares you a glance as he drives, nodding his head slightly to indicate that he’s listening. “But breaking Jonathan’s camera wasn’t.” 

He groans. “Nancy said the same thing, but what’s the big deal? The creep shouldn’t have access to a camera if he can’t use it properly.”

The slight warmth that Steve had somehow put in your chest dissipates at his words. “Jonathan isn’t a creep, but regardless of the situation, the big deal is this: not everyone can afford a fancy BMW and Raybans. Not everyone in Hawkins lives in a giant mansion with a pool. He worked so hard to afford that camera, it’s not something that he can just buy again on a whim.” 

Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Henderson, you know I didn’t mean it like that-”

“I know, but it was still a shitty thing to do.”

The silence that settles in the car is a heavy one, and you almost feel bad for Steve. You know he hadn’t thought about the repercussions of his actions, but you suppose that the fact that he hadn’t considered the price of a camera was proof enough of his naivety. 

When you get to the Wheeler’s, Steve gets out of the car to help you with your bike. He doesn’t let you do a thing, so you stand there and awkwardly watch. You can tell that he’s trying to make up for his actions from yesterday, which you appreciate. 

“Thank you,” you say once he places the bike down. 

“All in a day’s work.” Steve responds, wiping his hands off on his jeans. 

As he turns to leave, you stop him. “And thank you for earlier this week, ya know, for making me laugh after falling off my bike. I, uh, appreciate it.” 

He seems surprised by your sincerity, but he smiles. “Again: all in a day’s work. And listen, I’m sorry about Byers’ camera,” Then he quickly adds, as if afraid he won’t have the nerve to later, “I’m sorry about Will, too. I figure you were close with him and now he’s…”

His words trail off, not wanting to say the word “dead”, which you can’t blame him for. 

“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a bad person.” Steve turns to face you now, your words catching his undivided attention. “You just have the worst taste in friends, but when you aren’t around them… I guess you’re alright.” 

He laughs a bit, but there’s a certain emotion in his eyes that you can’t quite name; you have to stop yourself from leaning in closer to him. Suddenly the space between you feels too close and you take a step back, but as you move you feel Steve’s hand ruffle your hair. “I guess you’re ‘alright’ too, Henderson.” 

You watch as he leaves, standing in the Wheeler’s driveway for longer than necessary. You place your hand on your head and find yourself smiling, the warmth of his touch still faintly there.

-

⌑ series masterlist

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#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wdtai #m's writing #hey what happens in this chapter ? everything #the answer is everything

[steddieas-shegoes]

For your drabbles: Steddie babysitting someone’s baby and deciding that they want one too 💗

Max and Lucas delaying their honeymoon was a shock to everyone until they sat everyone down after their wedding and explained why.

Max was pregnant, and even though they hadn't planned on having kids anytime soon, they were excited.

Everyone was excited for them.

No one was as excited as Steve.

"My first grandchild!" He said dramatically as he hugged them both.

He was the first call when they found it was a boy, Lucas sobbing on the phone equal parts excited and scared while Max poked fun at both of them for crying. He was the one Max called on to plan the baby shower because the Sinclairs were insisting she had to have one.

And he was the first call when Max went into labor two weeks early.

He woke Eddie up, panicked, rushing to get there because Max didn't want anyone but him and Lucas.

When he found out the reason she wanted him there was because they were naming their son after him, he cried for almost an hour straight.

He was their designated babysitter. If they needed him for a date night, he was there with his own diaper bag for baby Steve. When they finally reached a point where they felt comfortable going on their honeymoon, Steve was prepared.

They'd be gone for five days.

Eddie was nervous, had never had to take care of a baby for that long before.

But Steve was ready.

The first two days were uneventful, they kept up as much of the routine Max and Lucas told him about as possible while Eddie still had to work and Steve had to lesson plan for the upcoming year.

But on the third day, baby Steve woke up with a small fever.

"Nothing to worry about yet, he still has an appetite and isn't sleeping more than usual," Steve said when Eddie started to worry.

"Should we call them?"

"No, not yet."

Eddie called into work, wanted to make sure he was home in case he needed to help in some way, even though Steve insisted it would be fine.

Baby Steve was doing okay until the afternoon. His fever spiked and he got cranky, but he wouldn't sleep like he usually did for his afternoon nap.

"Alright, let's try some Motrin."

The Motrin worked for about an hour.

Eddie was rocking baby Steve in his arms as he paced the room, Steve on the phone with the pediatrician explaining what was going on.

"So?" Eddie asked when he was done on the phone.

"Said if it gets above 102 and he stops taking the bottle to take him to the ER, but other than that just let it run its course."

"So we're in for a long night."

"Yep."

But they took turns, quickly found a cycle of switching off every two hours so they could sleep, soft forehead kisses between them when they handed the baby off between them.

By mid-morning the next day, the fever broke and baby Steve was completely back to normal.

Steve watched from his spot in front of the stove as Eddie danced through the room holding a giggling baby Steve, fond smile on his face.

"We should have a baby."

Eddie froze and turned to him, still patting baby Steve on the back slowly.

"I mean, we could. We should. We're good at this."

Eddie blinked.

"I know we said we would wait to talk about it until we could buy a house, but we have a two bedroom apartment already! And we both have stable jobs and have money in savings and we're at an age where most of our friends are planning on it."

Steve felt his heart sink as Eddie remained silent, tried to settle himself into not having kids for a while longer.

Then Eddie's arm wrapped around his waist, making him turn around.

"I'd love to have babies with you. Let's talk about it when little Stevie here isn't around and figure out what our best option is, okay?"

"Really?" Steve beamed at him, unable to help the way he bounced up and down a couple of times in excitement.

"Yeah, sweetheart. Little Stevie needs a friend, don't ya kiddo?"

Baby Steve smacked his hand against Eddie's cheek before reaching for his hair like he always did if he didn't have a toy in his hand.

"We're gonna be dads?"

"Yeah, my love. Good ones, too."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon #drabble

[bagopucks]

A. Matthews - Mean Words Hurt People

✄————————————

Auston Matthews x Fem!reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.1k

Warning(s): none! Just light angst.

—————————————

“Hudson just take the pills.”

“No!”

“Hudson please! They’ll help.”

“No! Go away! I can’t do it, I hate you!”

It had been an awfully stressful week. Auston and I were both feeling the irritability. With the second round knock out, I was patient. I assumed he might need time alone or with his team, and it was time I was willing to grant. What I hadn’t expected was for him to dive headfirst into the fire. I worried that we never got time to discuss it or that he never got time to cope with it, but at the same time I wondered if Auston coping was spending time planning our wedding and being a father to Auston. I always wanted to ask, but I never wanted to overstep my boundaries.

Until it came to hell week. Hudson’s allergies had been horrible. I worked overtime almost every night, and Auston was left with most of the work. It was bumpy, sure, but even if it had been myself and Hudson, I knew it still would have been bumpy. Hudson was tired and cranky, and stuffy and itchy and miserable. Auston was miserable navigating everything, trying to keep the kid happy, trying to make him take his pills, trying to find ways to entertain him. I felt horrible coming home each night, some worse than others. Some more peaceful than expected.

Some days Auston would be out cold on the couch, his clothes a mess, his hair pulled up, exhaustion laced in his furrowed brow. Other days I could hear the screaming and fussing from Hudson well before I even got up the front porch steps.

Hudson’s allergies and attitude couldn’t have come at a worse time. Halloween was around the corner and I had so many plans as to how I wanted to share it with Auston and Hudson. The last thing I wanted was for my miserable and moody kid to put those on the back burner. Especially because it was a chance to go out and have some family fun. Even if we hadn’t been the most stable of families recently.

I reminded Auston to be patient, but it was never really him that seemed ready to give up. Sure he got overworked, sure he was as miserable as Hudson, and as lost, but not once had he turned to me and told me he couldn’t do it. Until the night I came home to quite the tense scene. Auston sitting on the couch with his head in his hands. Toys were everywhere, Hudson was nowhere. He looked a mess. He looked exhausted. And when he looked up at me and told me he needed a break, I couldn’t get mad. I understood. When Hudson had spells like these, I often found backup was the best way to handle it.

“Was it worse today?” I asked softly as I closed the door, assuming Hudson was asleep.

“I stopped asking myself that a while ago.”

“I’m really sorry, hun.” I sat down next to him on the couch, gentle as I rested my hand on his back.

“I don’t know what his problem is.” The tension in his voice was something foreign to me. Auston was usually so collected and relaxed.

“It’s just his allergies. He just doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so miserable, and why it won’t go away. Just give him time.”

“I really need a break.” A piece of me wanted to tell him parenthood is a full time job. But I couldn’t, because while I knew it was a full time job, I liked my vacation days. And the perfect babysitter came in the form of my mother.

“Maybe Hudson needs a few days with grandma.”

“You think?” I pulled back at the tension in his tone. “I’m sorry.” Auston was quick to apologize, running his hands through his hair and sitting back. When I finally got a good look at his face, I raised a brow. There was more than just exhaustion in his features.

“Did Hudson say something to you?”

“What?” I watched Auston’s deep brown eyes meet my own. “No.”

“Aus. Did something happen?” I quickly placed my hand on his thigh.

“No. Okay? It’s fine. I just- I’d like to go home… alone- to sleep in my bed. With my dog.”

“Okay… okay if that’s what you need. Auston, just- I’m here for you. Okay?”

Auston stood up, and I watched him walk toward the door. For reasons I didn’t understand, he was more than overworked. He didn’t seem interested in sharing, but I assumed a full night of rest would help. “Drive safe, okay?” I watched him nod as he put his shoes on, and I locked the door behind him after he left. I hoped to delve deeper into the issue when Hudson awoke in the morning.

“Hey sweetie.” I spoke from the stovetop, cooking a few eggs for Hudson to eat for breakfast. I watched the boy peek around the kitchen and dining area before he padded off into the living room. When he returned, he came to my side and hugged my leg. “Sleep well?”

“Okay.” His distant and somber tone made me sigh. Both of my boys were anything but happy. It hurt knowing I could do nothing to help either.

“We have to talk, okay?” I watched his big eyes shoot up to my own. I wondered if he already knew what was on my mind. “Go sit. I’ll bring your plate over.” And I did just that. Once I finished cooking the eggs, I put them on a small plate and grabbed a fork, carrying the items over to set them down on the table. I pulled my chair out across from Hudson. The lack of Auston at our table was oddly unsettling. We’d both grown used to his presence in the mornings.

“Auston‘s really stressed.” The mention of the man lost my son’s interest. His eyes didn’t lift from his plate. “You’re not making things easy, hun. And I understand your allergies are killing you, but that doesn’t give you any right to be difficult or mean.”

Hudson dropped his fork on his plate, looking down at his lap.

“Have you been mean?” I leaned forward slightly, listening in the silence. Listening until I heard a quiet sniff. “Hudson?”

“I didn’t mean it.” His broken tone made me raise a brow.

“Honey, what didn’t you mean?”

“Did I make him leave? I didn’t want him to leave. Is it my fault?” His questions made me shoot up from my chair to cross the table, kneeling on the floor by Hudson.

“Honey.” I spoke in a stern yet soothing tone, reaching upwards to cup his tear stained cheeks. “Hudson you could never scare Auston off. He loves you.” I cooed.

“I’m so sorry, momma… I didn’t mean it!” Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, mistakes had been made, and i finally understood the issue. An issue I never should have left Auston alone with. “I don’t really hate him… I didn’t mean it.”

“Hudson, why would you say that?”

“I didn’t mean it, momma.” His quiet cries turned into sobs.

“Shhh.. okay honey.” I rubbed my son’s head, my heart hurting for both Auston and Hudson. They both needed comfort I wish I could have provided sooner.

“I don’t hate him.” Hudson whispered in a broken tone.

“I bet Auston would like to know that.”

“Not if he’s mad at me.” I shook my head.

“He still loves you, honey.” I wiped his tears one last time. “You just need to apologize.”

From day one, Auston’s mind had been plagued with worries. What if he wasn’t good enough? Or what if he couldn’t be a good father? What if he wasn’t cut out for all the responsibilities, or he couldn’t be a good role model? He never actually prepared himself for the day the kid he’d worked so hard to earn the favor of, would say he hated him. Auston had been floored when Hudson screamed it across the house. It was worse than any pain he’d ever felt before. It was the last thing he’d wanted. And he didn’t know how to tell me. I couldn’t blame him. Because it was a situation I didn’t actually understand. When I turned up with Hudson on his doorstep, a piece of me didn’t expect him to be home, but sure enough, Auston had opened the door just minutes after knocking. Felix stood at his feet, clearly oblivious to the situation, panting excitedly at the sight of Hudson. His best friend.

“Hey Aus.” I flashed the man a tender smile. Auston breathed a sigh that made his shoulders droop.

“Hey.. is everything okay?” Auston opened the door wider, an invite inside. I hesitantly stepped into the home, resting a hand on Auston’s hip and pressing a quick kiss to his chest.

“I came to check on you.. Hudson did too.”

“I was uh.. Felix needs to go on a walk.”

“Let me handle it.” I slid past Auston to grab the dog’s leash, calling Felix and kneeling to get him hooked up. “I’ll be back soon.”

I had faith in my boys making up. Despite the fact that Auston wasn’t Hudson’s father yet, I still knew that they had the ability to talk about their emotions and communicate well. They had never fought before… but I had faith they could apologize and move on.

“Mom,” Hudson called for me softly.

“I’ll be back soon, honey. I promise you’ll be okay.” I pressed a kiss to my son’s head before patting his back, and gently pushing him inside. “Fifteen minutes max. That’s how long I’ll be gone.” I reassured both boys before stepping out the door. Auston hesitated before shutting it behind me.

Was I worried? Sure. But again, I knew they’d be fine.

Auston shuffled his feet nervously for a moment before glancing back down the hallway. “You thirsty, bud?” He asked Hudson, the two making eye contact for the first time since their fight.

“A little.” Neither knew how to begin the conversation, so instead, Hudson and Auston walked down the hall and fetched two glasses of water, before settling in the living room on the couch.

“Your mom wants us to talk.. doesn’t she?” Auston took initiative, holding the cold glass of water between his hands.

“Yeah.” Hudson nodded, eyes examining his own water like a science experiment.

“I’m sorry your allergies have been so bad.” Auston slid a bit closer. “I know that stuff sucks. And I wish I could have been a better help.”

“Mom said we’re gonna see a doctor next week.” He paused. “She said they’re gonna give me something that should work better than the pills.”

“Hudson I was only trying to help.” Auston could barely handle dancing around the subject, so he decided to face it head on.

“I know.” Hudson’s little voice quivered.

“There’s nicer ways to treat the people trying to help you. And I understand if you had frustrations. It’s okay to have those, but there’s better way to communicate frustration than insults. Mean words hurt people.”

“I’m sorry,” Hudson whispered, peeking up at Auston, guilt in his sad features. “I don’t hate you.” The words took a huge weight off the shoulders of both boys. Auston let out a shaky sigh, and Hudson felt far less guilty than before. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.. Hudson it’s okay.” Auston set his glass of water down, reaching for Hudson, who slowly got up and climbed into his lap. Auston rubbed Hudson’s back while the boy sat with him, a mutual understanding between them that there was still love shared. Their relationship remained strong despite what had happened.

“You’re not mad?” Hudson pulled his head from Auston’s shoulder to look at the man.

“Nobody’s perfect, Hudsy. You’ll learn that as you grow up.. and you’ll make other mistakes. Just like I will. And that’s okay. It’s important that people have patience with one another… I’m not mad. I love you so much. Just do me a favor and try to communicate a little better in the future when you’re upset, okay?”

“You’ll help me.. right?”

“Absolutely.”

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

#nhl imagine #nhl x reader #auston matthews blurb #auston matthews x reader #auston matthews imagine #auston matthews #singlereaderseries #singlereaderfic #ella’s updates #ella’s inbox

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for lying about my babysitting availability to my aunt?

🧛‍♀️🐈

to recognize later^

M in high school. for the past few months ive been picking up my younger cousin (8m) from school, im scheduled for mondays and his other babysitter does other days because shes just a generally easier option (shes goes to school in the same building as him and gets out earlier/at the same time).

i take the bus to a school thats out of district, and commute is usually around ~30min, depending on traffic and weather. im home at 3:00 most days, and i pick up my cousin at 4:15, which is when he gets done tutoring.

sometimes my aunt will text me during school and ask me to pick up my cousin when his other babysitter drops out, and i'll be a bit grumpy about it but agree. heres the problem:

some days she'll ask me to pick him up at 3:15. my house is within walking distance of the school, but its an incredibly small window of time even if i rush to get down there, and thats not even taking into account weather conditions like rain, cold, or wind. in the past i've always agreed to pick him up at that time if i am literally able to (like if i dont have an appointment or something that is time-sensitive), not taking into account if my bus may be late or a road may be closed. but ive started to consider just lying and telling her im not available whenever she asks if i can pick him up at 3:15.

i'd say a big contributing factor is my autism, which makes me really stressed about getting there on time or how physically tired i'm going to be after speed-walking up and down steep sidewalks and roads to get there, also i have a tendency to not eat as much as i should for breakfast and lunch so by the time school is out im really hungry and that makes me cranky. i was always told as a kid to never lie, that honesty is the best policy, etc. and i took that literally. i only ever lie for jokes, so this will probably be the first time i consciously lie about something that isn't a joke and i am worriwd about it.

she does pay me what i consider to be a significant amount of money, anywhere from $25-50 depending on how many times ive babysat that week or how long its been since shes last paid me. i cant access the money rn, but im working on being able to (current total of $105)

tldr: i'm considering lying to my aunt and telling her i'm unable to pick up her kid from school sometimes because in reality it causes me too much stress, WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[drewsbuzzcut]

All Treats For The Barzals

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses blurb

warnings: alludes to sex

“Mommy! I want to go to this house please!!” Nolan shouts, already on his second sugar high.

It’s about 9 pm, on your final lap for trick or treating with Mat, you, and the kids. This year’s family costumes are Marvel superheroes. You’re dressed as black widow, a tight black suit, red hair and all. Mat is captain america, Nolan is Ironman, Angel is spiderman, and Sloane is spider-gwen, even though nobody will necessarily see her costume as she’s bundled up in her stroller. Angel passed about 30 minutes ago, also in the stroller.

“Are you sure you want to go in, it looks pretty scary,” Mat says to Nolan, adjusting him in his arms and wiping some of the sweat off Nolan’s forehead.

“Daddy, I’m so brave. Remember you tell me when I was scared of the monster under my bed,” Nolan rambles, hands on both of Mat’s cheeks to make sure he’s paying attention.

“You’re right, you are brave. Do you want me or mommy to take you?”

“Mommy’s turn!” You hand the stroller over to Mat, and take Nolan out of his arms.

The chills spreading over your body disappear when your husband’s hand lands on the small of your back. Even through the latex of your costume, you can feel his warmth.

“Make sure my little spiders stay warm, cap,” you whisper, sultry and softly, kissing his lips before you walk off with Nolan.

Mat lets out a deep sigh, hoping his hard on isn’t noticeable through his costume. He knew he was going to struggle the very first time you showed him your costume.

Angel’s cries break him out of his mental images of you spread out on your bed after he rips that costume off of you.

“Daddy, they had full size candy!” Nolan cheers once you both are back with Mat.

“He got really excited, almost ran himself into the side of the house,” you giggle.

“Wow, buddy, that’s so awesome. Are you going to share it with daddy?” Mat plays around, earning a small grimace from his mini me.

“Mommy said no candy for daddy,” Nolan states, holding or hiding behind your leg.

“Eh, did she? I guess I will have to have a conversation with her then,” Mat looks at you with a playful glare, making you smirk.

“What’s wrong with my little man,” you turn your attention to AJ, who’s cuddled up against Mat’s chest.

“He’s tired and cold.” You reach out to smooth your baby’s hair out, pressing a kiss to his head.

“I guess it’s time to go, sorry Nolie. It’s late, we have to get you all to bed,” you softly say to your oldest.

He looks up at you with that familiar Barzal pout, but you know that soon he’ll be the one cranky and tired.

“Sorry, my love. We have to go, c’mon, I’ll carry you the whole way,” he immediately leaps into your arms and settles against your body. He’d be out in no time.

“So, no candy for daddy, eh?” Mat comes up behind you, hands resting low on your hips.

You turn around, shushing him as you just put Sloane down in her crib. She’s sound asleep and you don’t need her daddy waking her up, especially because you still had to get ready for the team’s Halloween party.

It’s when you turn around that he finally notices that your costume is unzipped and hanging at your waist. Your chest is completely bare as you just got done breastfeeding your baby girl.

“You can have something sweet, just not candy,” you mutter, tossing your arms around his shoulders and kissing up his neck.

“Fuck, you’re such a tease,” he lets out a low guttural moan and you quiet him by pressing your lips to his.

You back him out of Sloane’s nursery and into your bedroom across the hall.

“I’m not teasing,” you say.

“We have to do our costume change and greet the babysitter,” he warns.

“30 minutes is all we need. As for being on time to the party, we can be a little late,” you say, simply taking off your costume and laying out on your bed.

a/n: This was rushed and I don’t necessarily like it, but I do hope y’all enjoy it!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal smut #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

[marvelfanfics1]

Mob!daddy!Thor with a shy!little one, just holding onto any part of him in public and getting whiny when you can’t hold onto him, just wanting your dada. Just being a shy needy baby 💌

Your fanfics abt him have made me a Thor fan 🫢

Always Touching

Pairing: mob!daddy!Thor x shy!little!reader

Warnings: Age Regression, fluff, soft!Thor, clingy!reader?

A/n: it's my duty to make more people love Thor the way I do 😌 mob!daddy!Thor is literally the best thing I've ever started writing 🥴

                                   ⭒𖥸⭒

"And who's that sweetheart behind you?" asked Wanda, trying to peek behind Thor to see you.

"That's my little one. Can you say hi princess?" Thor tried to make you stand before him but you instead hid more behind him, feeling intimidated by the mobster Witch, knowing what she's capable of.

You were glad you had your daddy to protect you, he is so strong! And he promised you he would never let something happen to you and will always be there when you need him.

"Hi..." you said in a meek voice.

Wanda coos at your cuteness, now missing being with her boys right now, she can't wait to go back home again.

"Your little is adorable, Odinson," she said and both went on with business, you decided to play with Thor's hand in the meantime.

°

You were shy since you were a child and that never changed, you can't help it, and Thor always assured you that it's okay.

You are really depending on your daddy and couldn't stay away from him for too long or you would start to get moody and cry out for him.

Thor doesn't mind how clingy you are and how you always wanted to be in his presence. He would often carry you around and let you sit on his lap while he has a meeting.

The some-more scary things will be taken care of while you were asleep, he doesn't want his little one to be afraid of him, he couldn't bear the thought.

When you were outside shopping you are always holding one of his hands or onto his arm, scared you will get lost.

"You want to look around? You can pick whatever you want, love" he said when you entered a clothing store.

"Come with me, please?" you asked with the good old puppy eyes Thor isn't able to say no to, he would do anything for you.

°

But sometimes he has to leave you alone for a few minutes if it's really necessary, and that makes you cranky instantly. He can't even try and sneak out because you would ask him where he is going.

"No! Daddy no go. Want cuddles!" you whined from your spot on the fluffy carpet, arms high up for him.

He sighed and went to pick you up, twirling you around to hear you giggle and distract you from what he was about to do.

"It's really important, princess. You know I wouldn't leave if there was a other way."

You pout but nodded your head, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. Thor put you back down on the ground and at that moment walked Valkyrie inside, your babysitter and bodyguard.

"I won't be gone long. Please make sure she eats something before I come back and don't leave her side" Thor tells her while grabbing his phone and keys.

"I know how this works. Go and do your job, she's safe with me." Valkyrie waved him off and ruffled a hand through your hair.

°

Half an hour later Thor arrived back home and could hear your cute giggles through the mansion and followed them to the bathroom where Valkyrie was brushing your hair while you were brushing your teeth. You were also in your jammies and ready to go to bed.

"Dada! You back!" you mumbled with your mouth full of toothpaste.

He walked over to you and took Valkyrie's place behind you, taking the brush from her.

"I'll take over now. Thank you, Val. You can take the evening off." Thor told her and she nod, giving you a little wave before leaving.

You finished your routine with your daddy and let him carry you around, not wanting to let him go again.

"Daddy, can we cuddle now?" you asked rubbing your tired eyes, your head already resting on his shoulder.

"Of course, little one. We're gonna snuggle the whole night, promise" he whispered and laid you down on your shared bed before joining in next to you.

He handed you your favorite stuffie and popped in your pacifier as well. Next, he pulled you closer to his side and draped a blanket mostly only over you.

                                   ⭒𖥸⭒

Taglist

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @aagn360 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc

#little!reader #little reader #daddy!thor odinson x little!reader #daddy!thor odinson #daddy!thor x little!reader #daddy!thor #daddy thor odinson #daddy thor odinson x little reader #daddy thor x little reader #mob!thor x little!reader #mob!daddy!thor x little!reader #mob daddy thor x little reader

[itsthesinbin]

Worth (Megatron/Reader)

i gotta do everything MYSELF around here since NO ONE sent me any earthspark megatron requests!!!!!!

i wrote this very quick at almost 2 am so if its bad..... shut up

Warnings: Mentions of reader being injured (non-graphic), mentions of blood (non-graphic)

-------------------------------

Megatron was a stubborn old bot. Sure, he’d given up on his more outwardly dangerous and volatile ideals. The internal ones, though… Those were a struggle to get rid of. Like the ones where he was sure he wasn’t fully worthy of some things. Pleasure and love being at the top of his list, after everyone he had harmed and betrayed. He appreciated the chances he was given and the friendships he had made, of course. But more than that… He knew he didn’t deserve such things.

You made that part of his ideals difficult.

You were a friend of the Terrans, after a bit of an incident that had taken place while out on a walk. You became a sort of babysitter, after you were able to be trusted. Megatron remembered the thrum in his spark the first time he met you- seeing you using your tiny hands to help Jawbreaker with a little painting project you had put together for everyone. The little twinkle in your eye if you asked if he wanted to join.

“I don’t really have a brush big enough though,” you had joked. “I could try and find a really soft broom?” A couple giggles sounded through the children, and even the cranky old mech couldn’t help but crack a smile. Of course, he was more than content to watch while he waited for you all to be finished so the Terrans could train. You had sat with him while they finished, working on your own piece while you became his silent company.

Megatron was surprised you had immediately trusted him enough to sit with him so easily.

You two saw each other often, after that. A Terran always brought you along, nearly as inseparable from you as they were from their human siblings. And every time, you found a way to have your talks with him when the children were busy. He couldn’t help but ask why, one day.

“You always looked lonely,” you answered with a smile. You didn’t elaborate further, simply falling back into the topic from before. That familiar thrum ran through him.

As time went on, the feeling in his spark began to scare him. He was fond of you, sure, but you deserved something… normal. You didn’t deserve an old warlord with blood and energon staining his hands.

Oh how he wished, though. To confess to you. To hold you. To learn those little human courtship quirks that are so different from his own. Every time he was with you, he had to bite his glossa to keep from asking you to come away with him so you could talk. He had even gotten through his writer’s block. Words flowing from his fingers as he poured his spark out onto the datapad in his next piece of you-centric poetry. He was so ashamed of himself that not even Optimus could get to such a file.

And then you were injured.

A rogue Decepticon on the run happened to take a human hostage. It was an unfortunately common occurrence, especially if the con posed as an Uber or something similar. Megatron was ready to just get it over with. Then he saw you dangling from the con’s hand, half unconscious.

Megatron saw red.

Normally, he tried to be civil first- especially when a hostage was involved. But all of his training- all of his teachings from Optimus- melted from his mind in an instant. He was back to before. A cold, unfeeling machine that only knew selfish need and vengeance. He was lucky Optimus and Elita were there to keep him from killing the mech. He didn’t even hear Elita’s question of “what the frag is going on, Megatron” as he scooped up your frail form. He ignored his comrades as he transformed and began the flight to Dorothy’s home.

He didn’t trust GHOST for shit.

Megatron loved you. He realized this as he agonized having to part with your bloodied little body to allow Dorothy and Alex to heal you. He realized this as he felt his frame tremble. He realized this as he overheard Twitch say she had never seen him this distraught over anything.

Megatron realized it as he watched your sleeping form through Dorothy’s window late into the night. She was kind enough to keep the blinds up and curtains open, so he had a clear view. His optics were locked onto the rise and fall of your chest. As long as that moved, you were fine. As long as you weren’t still, you’d talk to him again.

Everyone had long since left to rest, although a few tried to get him into the barn as well. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest comfortably until your eyes opened. Until you smiled at him again. His spark ached.

He didn’t deserve you. You didn’t deserve an old, broken soul like him. He was stuck between two states of mind: wanting to tell you his feelings, and wanting to keep them to himself so it can’t be used against him. A con managed to harm you just by chance. He couldn’t imagine the target on your back if you were on the way to possibly becoming his Conjux.

You shifted in his sleep and his spark lept in his chest cavity. It dropped again when you simply fell back into an uneasy rest. He sighed shakily, placing his head in his hand. He could almost laugh.

The mighty Megatron, brought to his knees- quite literally- by a human. The very species he had sought to eradicate to take the Earth’s energy and use it as his own. The irony is not lost on him, even in his distress. He smiled slightly, lifting his gaze back to your frail little body.

“No matter what happens next, you’ll be safe with me,” he whispered to you, although he knew you couldn’t hear. Megatron simply spoke the promise to reassure himself. Maybe by doing this, he’d earn the right to be yours. If you’d have him.

Guess he’d have to wait to know if you would.

#transformers #transformers earthspark #megatron #megatron x reader #tfe

[multifandomenjoyerr]

hihi!!! could i possibly request some regressor young neil (scott pilgrim) headcanons or a moodboard?? no pressure- the headcanon has just been on my mind hehe

- @beaistiny 🐝

🚀 Little!Young Neil HCS

🚀 | I can 100% do that! Thank you so much for requesting^^ love your content btw! I hope you enjoy:]

💙 : the type of baby to prefer naps over being awake when regressed. Don't get me wrong— he loves to play video games, watch every cartoon he can stumble onto and hang out with friends or family. However naps is something that keeps him calm literally 80 percent of the time. If he doesn't get his naps he will be a very cranky boy

💙 : his favorite little food(s) is anything involving ice cream or Mac and cheese. He highly prefers ice cream over Mac and cheese and everything else, but he isn't that picky. He gets what he can get, and he'll end up being neutral about it. If he were to hold a grudge about it; he'd forget about it within two hours

💙 : very very quiet around people. He's like the kid in your class who rarely talks at all. (Or socialize much in class). He's exactly like that most of the time. Just hand him a controller or a comic book and you won't even notice he's there.

💙 : is pretty liquid with his agere age and isn't sure what his age is. But all he knows is that he regresses younger than 10. Not much older than that. (I think hes either a infant or toddler regressor)

💙 : a very sweet baby. Will ask for cuddles from his babysitters and CGs whenever the opportunity is there. He will also follow them around while he's glued to his games. He will let you play his games, but only because he wants to watch and do commentary on your gameplay.

💙 : his little hobbies are mostly him napping, playing games or reading. But sometimes he will color for his friends or redraw scenes from his books.

💙 : I feel like when little he'd play animal crossing, red dead redemption and minecraft. He finds comfort in those games. When it comes to books the majority of it is comics. Such as manga or superheros (DC and Marvel)

💙 : steals his babysitters/caretakers shirts and or hoodies. You can't get them off of him because before you can, he's asleep. Sometimes he likes to tease about it when he's big because he knows nobody has the guts to wake him up. So he's pretty slick when it comes to getting what he wanted

💙 : doesn't have a permanent caregiver per say, but he looks up to Stephen Stills alot more than other people. He see's him as an influence and father figure enough as it was. So he trusts him to be his caregiver

💙 : owns 'too many' agere gear for one person. But it's often than not that he's spoiled rotten. But he doesn't mind it

💙 : he's probably a bluey and paw patrol fan. Change my mind

#sfw agere #agerespace #safe agere #agere blog #fandom agere #sfw blog #headcanon #agere hcs #agere headcanons #scott pilgrim agere #scott pilgram takes off agere #Spto agere #young niel

[slashersgostabbystabstab]

Original Ask: Another fun request up to you uwu nap time with GhostFace after many exhausting trials on his end

A part of you was quite thankful that today had been what could be considered a “lazy day” in the Entity’s realm.

Fortunate for you, you hadn’t been called into very many matches. In fact, it was possible that you had only been summoned into a single trial, and it was one against the Wraith who didn’t even seem like he was in the mood to sacrifice the survivors. So, most of your “day” was spent lounging around the campfire with your fellow survivors who also were having a somewhat soft day. Even those that went into a greater amount of trials came nearly scratch free, save for David with his No Mither and Steve who was as altruistic as always.

From what you had heard, it was the killers who were actually having it somewhat rough, and you had no doubt that your lovely ghost-man was no exception.

“Does the big, bad killer want a kiss on his boo-boo?”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Aw, I’m sorry.” you softly chuckled in your normal voice, running your hands over the white mask belonging to none other than Ghostface himself. “How many times was it this time?”

“I don’t keep track of that, not like it was very many.” he huffed, clearly frowning under that mask of his. “And where were you the entire time?”

“Entity didn’t call me in.” you replied while looking down at his exhausted figure that lay on one of the old couches inside a house situated in Lampkin Lane.

You were quite right, seeing as you had to find Ghostface rather than him sneak up on you like almost every other time he was free. Sure it may have been a stupid idea to wander around the killer’s empty realms all alone, but you had at least finally found Ghostface in one of his favorite locations.

“Who did it though?”

“Harrington.” he scoffed, even lifting his fingers a bit as he had his hands resting on his abdomen. “I didn’t think much of the little bastard at first, but maybe not he is actually starting to irk me.”

“What do you expect from the babysitter?” you quietly snickered to yourself, already knowing that his eyes had glanced up at you in an upset manner. “But come on, don’t be so cranky about it. Today’s just been a weird day for you all.”

The man merely game a ‘hmph’ in response, not even reacting when your fingers slid under his hood and grabbed the top of his mask. He only lay on your lap, too upset about how poorly he performed in all of his matches. 

Soon enough, you had his mask off and on the arm rest you leaned against, now looking down at the pale features belonging to Danny Johnson who gave yet another huff. You smiled down at him, then removing his inner hood to ruffle his black locks that had dried out from his sweat.

“Danny?” you called out in a whisper, seeing that he didn’t bother to look up at you but instead what was up ahead for him. “Danny.~”

“What?” he finally answered, turning up to see you plant a kiss on his warm forehead.

“How about a nap?” you suggested, then seeing as he pondered at it for a moment.

Usually, you would have been laying on top of Danny’s chest as he held you in a protective grasp, but you could tell that he was too tired and unwilling to move. So, you fixed your body as best as possible so that you were completely under Danny, with the exception of your legs that were propped up with him still on his back between them.

Your hands graced his features, giving his stubble a bit of a scratch before Danny found himself with his eyes shutting completely.

This man skipped sleep as much as possible but this time, he definitely needed it. 

You smiled once again, leaving one of your hands under Danny’s arm that hung off the couch while the other came down to his abdomen, holding his leather glove before you too drifted off into a much needed nap.

#dbd #dbd x reader #dbd ghostface #dbd danny johnson #ghostface x reader #danny Johnson x reader

[fruitcoops]

So I just reread the fic about Jules birthday, and I’ve always liked the part where Remus tells Jules that he’ll always be more important than hockey. Could you write a fic about that if you haven’t already? Like Remus leaving in the middle of practice or something like that? Idk it’s up to u:)

Fic O'Ween Day 3: Midnight! Read more amazing works from these prompts at @noots-fic-fests and of course, character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3

TW illness (coughing, mentioned vomiting, fatigue)

Remus leaned against the countertop for support and stared at the floor. “But he’s okay, right?”

“He’s okay,” his mother answered. She sounded beyond exhausted.

Remus nodded and rubbed his fingers under his eye. The night suddenly seemed so much darker. “How’re you and dad? Taking time off?”

“We’re alright.” He knew that low edge to her voice—it was the same one his own took on when he was trying to hide his hurt. Silence fell over the line.

“Mom.”

“Your dad can’t get PTO this week and neither can I.”

She cleared her throat; he closed his eyes. “Can Leanne keep an eye on him?”

“Visiting her daughter in Florida.”

No parents, no neighbors, no way they’re getting a babysitter for a sick kid… “I’ll be on the next flight.”

“Remus, no.”

“There’s nobody else—”

“Honey.” He could see the way her eyebrows drew together in his mind. “Honey, you’re on the road this week.”

“I know.”

“In Montreal.”

“They can handle a couple games without me.”

“You’re practically a rookie, Remus,” his mother insisted. After a pause, she lowered her voice. “You’re not going to damage your career when we can get a babysitter, or—or I can find a couple days off. Hell, your dad’s got a pullout at the office he can rest on.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon, okay?”

“Remus John, you have a responsibility to your team.”

“Jules comes first.” If there was one thing Remus would stand by no matter the circumstances, it was his family. The Lions would survive a roadie without him. Jules would never be alone and sick on his watch.

His mother was silent for a long time.

Remus picked at a chip in the granite. “There’s no babysitter that will watch him, is there?”

A sigh traveled down the line. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby. Give Sirius my best. Sleep well.”

“I will,” he lied. The call went dead and he turned, bracing both hands against cool stone. Sirius’ footsteps were soft, his hand gentle. Remus sniffled. His chest was a vise. “Mom says hi.”

Slow circles pressed between his shoulder blades. “What happened?”

“Jules got the flu, and they can’t get time off work to stay home with him.” Fucking assholes in fucking corporate. Remus swallowed around the clog in his throat. “Sounds like he’s pretty sick.”

“Does he need to go to the hospital?”

Remus shook his head. The hand on his back slid down and wrapped around his side, guiding him to lean on Sirius’ chest. “Do you want me to book your flight while you call Coach?”

“Yeah.” His voice was rough. He didn’t let go. “God, I hate being so far away.”

Sirius’ other arm came around him and held him tight.

--

Remus and his father talked the whole ride home from the airport, and said nothing at all.

The house was just as he left it at Christmas. No snow remained, and little frost—crocuses peeked out of the lawn where the squirrels had snatched and buried them.

Apologies for the late notice, but due to a family emergency, I will be in Wisconsin until the 22nd. Thank you for your understanding.

Rapid responses. Cranky responses. Remus had tried to keep a level head, even through the tremor of his hands on the computer keyboard. The organization wasn’t happy with him, but when were they ever?

It didn’t matter either way. Fine or not, suspension or not, they weren’t going to stop him from making chicken soup and raspberry Emergen-C for his sick little brother. He was damn lucky to have Arthur on his side, easing the retribution from men in offices who had hardly bothered to meet him at the start of the season.

“Your mother’s worried.”

Remus glanced up from his hands. His father was facing forward, brow pinched while he pulled into the driveway. “Yeah.”

The engine turned off with a sputter. “Be gentle, okay?”

“It’s not your fault they wouldn’t give you time—”

“Be gentle.”

Remus bit the inside of his lip and nodded. A goldfish cracker peered out at him from the crevice by the door. This passenger seat always made him feel so small. He slung his backpack out of the seat well and stepped out, letting the crisp air nip his face and bring him back. He needed to come back more. The heartache had lessened, and distance was simply exhausting now. Running fast and far to Gryffindor had seemed so smart before.

The front door still squeaked when he turned the doorknob. Remus was glad for that, at least.

His mother smiled when she saw him. “Hi, baby, how was your flight?”

“Hey, mom.” It was good, he started to say, only to have the words fall from his mind the moment she stepped around the kitchen table and wrapped him in her arms. It’s been a lot I love you I missed you how are you where’s Jules—“Uneventful, thankfully.”

“Good, that’s just the way you want it.” She gave a little sway, one hand cradling the back of his neck. He felt a light pulse of pressure. Her back, ever tense, relaxed slightly. “It’s so good to have you home.”

Remus breathed deep. Lemon-scented cleaning spray and drugstore shampoo, laundry detergent and just-sharpened pencils. He pressed his nose tighter to her shoulder and felt her squeeze him, just a little. “Missed you.”

“Oh, Re,” she sighed. A hand rubbed along his spine for a few hard, grounding, wonderful seconds. Warmth seeped in around his edges. The floor was solid beneath him, the walls sturdy. A kiss found his temple. “Baby, we missed you, too.”

A rattling cough made him wince. “Jeez.”

“I know.” Her face crinkled into a grimace when they separated and she looked back down the hall. “That started up two days ago. Poor thing. Keeps him up at night.”

“Aw.” The cough was followed by a rough throat-clear that made Remus frown. “Fever and everything?”

“102, as of this morning.” Hope ran a palm over his shoulder, the way she tended to right after he came home. Remus tried not to think about that too hard, or else he made himself sad. “You’re sure about this? You could get sick. It’s the middle of the season.”

Remus tried for an encouraging smile. “My immune system’s great, mom. I’m in good shape, I take my multivitamins. Eat my Wheaties, and all that.”

“Hmm.” She scrutinized him for a beat. “You better be.”

“I’m basically indestructible.”

Her laugh bounced off the corners of the house like it always had. “Let’s not get hasty, hon.”

“Mom?”

Remus’ heart sank.

“Dad?” Jules croaked, a little louder. “Did the neighbors come over?”

“Hey, J,” Remus called. The floorboards gave a light groan when he set his bag down at the end of the hall. “It’s me, bud.”

Silence followed. The bathroom nightlight was on, casting the hall in gentle blue. His hand drifted toward the first door on reflex (cool metal knob, lock on the inside, jimmy it three times in the winter when the frame sticks), but he managed to step past it and knock lightly below the ‘J LUPIN. DO NOT ENTER.’ sign scotch-taped to the old wood.

“Jules? I’m opening the door.”

The first thing that hit him was the smell. Stale, sweaty, feverish—Remus did a double-take without meaning to.

“Jesus Christ, dude.”

“Oh, you weren’t kidding,” Jules rasped from somewhere to his right. “Hey. Hi, why are you here?”

“You slept too long. It’s June. I’m here for the summer.”

“Hey.”

“You’re sick, dummy.” Remus tried to be subtle about propping the door open wider with a loose hockey glove. “I’m taking care of you.”

With the new, faint light from the hallway, he could see just how terrible Julian looked. His unconvinced squint didn’t help the sallowness of his skin or the heavy bags carved under his eyes. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh, you have a roadie in—” Another hacking cough interrupted him. It shook his tiny frame hard enough to make his knees bend under the covers. Remus’ heart gave an acid lurch.

Agitated heat radiated off him to the point that Remus could feel it when he perched on the edge of the bed. The sheets were a tangled mess; one blanket half-tucked, the other mostly on the floor. “Deep breaths,” he soothed when the coughing turned to a few aggressive sniffles. “Take it easy.”

“Montreal,” Jules finished in a mutter. He wiped his nose on the edge of his baggy t-shirt (almost certainly their father’s, with the way it dwarfed him) and laid back with a long huff. “You got a roadie in Montreal. Dad ‘n me are gonna watch the game.”

“Dad and I.”

“Shhh.”

He smiled to himself and tugged the top blanket down to shimmy the next one into position. “Well, you and I can watch it. How’s that sound?”

“No, you need to play,” Jules groaned, but even that was weak. He curled onto his side and peeked out of his huddle, dull-eyed and flushed. “How come you’re here anyway?”

“Told you. I’m taking care of you.”

“But hockey.”

“But you.”

“But…hockey.”

“But you.” His stomach gave a little pull. “You’re more important than a couple games, bud.”

Jules didn’t look like he believed him. “…okay.”

“I’m serious.”

“No, you’re R—”

“Don’t you—” Remus bit back his words (and his grin) and whacked lightly at the outline of Jules’ legs under the blankets, coaxing a crunchy sort of laugh from him. “Watch it. I’m in charge of feeding you for the next few days.”

Jules’ giggling trickled out with a last sniff. “Mom and Dad gotta go to work, huh?”

“Yeah.” The wrinkle of his nose was almost certainly reflected on Remus’ face. “But hey, we’ll have fun.”

“Mmm.”

The air shifted, along with his gut. Jules’ breaths were heavier. His eyes, lidded. His forehead was far too hot against the back of Remus’ hand when he checked it. “Tired?”

“Mhmm.”

Wrapping him in a dozen blankets and cuddling him as tight as possible wouldn’t help. Logically, Remus knew that. The temptation was still there. “Too hot?”

“Warm.”

“Want me to take a blanket?”

Jules shook his head. His eyes were closed fully now. “Weight’s nice.”

Every inhale hitched when Remus rested a hand between his shoulder blades, feeling for his pulse. That, at least, was calm. Jules had sweated through the old grey fabric there. He combed a few strands of hair off his burning brow and swallowed around his dry throat. “Want me to leave you alone for a bit?”

“Gonna nap.” Jules’ twitched, as if he was trying to readjust but lacked the energy. “Here when I wake up?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be here.”

--

The evening passed without issue. Night rolled in with a gust of wind that hissed across the windowpanes while Remus dried the last of the dishes. Jules had managed to get up and come to the table for dinner, but he had looked even worse in the brighter light and barely ate half a bowl of soup. He could see their mother struggling not to fuss over him, not that Jules had any oomph to give real protest.

What kind of family emergency is this, Lupin?

A family emergency. I can come back the 22nd.

You’re missing two games. Do you understand that? Weasley won’t play you for the third, either.

I understand.

Is this a funeral?

No.

A wedding?

No.

It’s a request for nonvital time off, then. This could very well result in a fine.

I’m aware of that. Time off for a family emergency is covered in my contract. I’m permitted to miss four games.

Are you really going to put in a request for this? For a nonvital midweek trip instead of two NHL games?

That’s precisely what I’m requesting, yes. This is an emergency and therefore it is vital.

Remus had not missed the bureaucracy of the NHL during his time on the ice. There was still administrative irritation, of course, but it had not been nearly long enough since he played email tag with someone determined to make his life harder. ‘Nonvital emergency’. It made him want to laugh and lose it at the same time. What a fucking joke.

A sudden rustle and thud—likely Jules’ elbow hitting the wall between their rooms, ouch—startled him from half-sleep. Clumsy footsteps pattered on the floor; a door creaked and closed, quickly followed by a dry heave. Remus winced in sympathy.

This bedroom felt too small. His feet touched the end of the bed if he stretched out. There were only a few inches’ allowance for his shoulders on either side before he hit a wall or the edge of the mattress. Even his stuff felt smaller, as if the books shrank in his hands and the trophies had been made for someone Jules’ size.

He supposed they had been. Juniors was a world away, these days. He had turned the idea of keeping a potential you-know-what ring here instead of in Gryffindor, but never really committed one way or another. That, too, felt far off. He was stuck in the middle of a spectrum, where nothing felt quite right.

The toilet flushed, but he didn’t hear Jules leave. The low timbre of their father’s voice buzzed in the hall for a second; he didn’t catch Jules’ response. Remus swung his legs over the side of the bed with a huff and stood despite the creaking protests of his knees.

The blue light looked eerie in the cover of real night. He propped Jules’ door open again as he passed. A little ventilation couldn’t hurt. He paused in the doorway of the bathroom and crouched down, lowering himself to the cool linoleum with a soft groan. “Sup?”

“M not gonna throw up again.”

“Okay.” Remus flexed his ankles against the cabinets and tilted his head back. The soft towels buffered him from the wallpaper. Next to him, Jules’ forehead was stubbornly pressed into the crease of his elbow where he rested it on the toilet seat. “Still sick?”

A wordless mumble answered him.

“I’m gonna make chicken and dumplings tomorrow.”

Jules weakly raised his head. “Really?”

“Yup. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch. All that good stuff.”

Quiet fell over them for a long moment. “What are you talking about?”

“What, you don’t want a science lesson?”

“Nerd—”

He knew it was going to happen before Jules’ first jerk forward and caught his side when he wobbled, giving gentle pressure until he was upright. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s okay, I got you.”

“Ugh.”

“I know. You’re doing great, J.” It was over as fast as it started. Jules trembled lightly under his touch, sweaty again, all too warm again. His knuckles stood out in harsh midnight shadows where he gripped the porcelain, thin arms shivering.

Jules sniffled. “I wanna go to bed.”

“I bet.”

“I’m tired.”

“Can you stand up?” It took Jules a moment to even start moving; when he did, it was sluggish and unsteady. Remus hovered his hands close and resisted the urge to scoop him right up. Jules wouldn’t like that. He hated being babied. It was still fucking hard to watch him pull himself to his feet.

A rinse-and-spit and a cool washcloth on the back of his neck made Jules sigh. He leaned right into Remus’ hip, head at the base of his ribs, and staggered along on foal legs while Remus guided him back to bed with a lump in the base of his throat. There was no fuss about being tucked in—he simply sighed again, so content it hurt. Remus smoothed out the hem of the comforter by his neck just one more time, once more, just so he could be sure.

--

Their parents were out by the time Remus woke. He distantly recalled the sound of them leaving, but the plane left him groggy enough not to notice or care. Jules was still snoring loud enough for him to hear it through their shared wall.

Breakfast, then. Something light. Oatmeal or eggs, if he could keep it down. Broth, if not. Remus would have to check the fridge for Gatorade and lemons.

It was strange to be functionally alone in the house. The carpet felt too soft, the curtains too still. A bright pink sticky note was stuck to the table with his name written in big letters at the top. He’d check it later.

Message To: SB <3

Morning :)

Fever’s still going, nasty cough, the works. I’ll keep an eye on him today.

Miss you

He clicked his phone off and set it aside—hopefully, Sirius wouldn’t be awake for some time yet. They didn’t have practice for two more hours in his time zone. He liked to sleep in on days like that. Remus, on the other hand, had work to do.

Quick eggs and bacon for himself took fifteen minutes. He parked himself at his usual seat without really thinking about it, pulling a dish towel and a fork from their drawers with an absent mind. He hadn’t dared to check his email yet and seriously contemplated leaving it alone until he was back in Gryffindor. Time off was time off. Professional hockey wasn’t big on ‘work from home’.

Jules shuffled in half past ten and made a beeline for the couch.

“Good morning.”

A grunt answered.

“Sleep well?”

“Uh-uh.”

“Want oatmeal?”

Jules’ mumble seemed vaguely affirmative. Remus set the kettle on and dug a pot out of the cupboard, then turned to rummage in the pantry. This was setting up to be a silent morning.

Measuring for a sick preteen was almost as strange as picturing his childhood bedroom as a normal size. Remus had only cooked for himself for years, then himself and Sirius, with the occasional potluck dish for a team dinner or holiday party. A single cup of anything was a novelty. “Want sugar?” he checked once the oats and milk were simmering. Jules snuffled in response, dragging one of the knit blankets further over his head. “Lemme check your temperature and then you can tell me, yeah?”

“Mmkay.”

A quick search of the medicine cabinet revealed no thermometer, and the same went for the hall closet. Remus spent a good five minutes riffling through the bathroom drawers and Jules’ desk before he found it propped against the base of his dolphin lamp. It had been left uncapped; gross. He made sure to give it a thorough wash before moving back into the living room.

“Blanket down.”

“No.”

“I can’t see your mouth. C’mon, just for a second.”

“Cold. Bright.”

“Twenty seconds, J. I promise. You can count.”

The blanket lump shifted. “Twenty?”

“Fifteen. Then I’ll bring your oatmeal over and leave you alone.”

A handful of shallow breaths filled the silence before Jules’ forehead poked out, then his glazed eyes, and finally the lower half of his face. Remus grimaced. His nose was red and chapped from tissues, and a faint crack split the side of his lower lip. “Have you been drinking your water?”

“Fifteen seconds,” Jules slurred.

Remus knew he wasn’t getting a better number than yesterday. Not with this vague lucidity, and not when Jules was hardly able to hold a fragment of a conversation. All the same, it made his gut sink when the thermometer beeped.

“Whuzzat?”

“102.5.”

“ ‘S worse?”

“Yep.”

A resigned nod told him Jules expected as much. The blanket swallowed him up again. Remus pulled it down over his feet before heading back to the kitchen.

Three hours passed with all the rush of a snail on codeine. Jules rallied to choke down his oatmeal before going down for a noon nap, let Remus rouse him to gulp down about a gallon of water, and overall remained sedentary while Remus channel-surfed for anything even slightly interesting on daytime TV. They settled on NCIS from one to 2:30, NCIS: Miami from 2:30 to four (with a brief break for sandwiches, or toast, in Jules’ case), and rounded it out with NCIS: LA while Remus tossed some rotisserie chicken and chopped vegetables in a simmering pot of broth.

“Re?”

“Yeah, bud?” Bisquick puffed over the side of the mixing bowl in a soft cloud.

“My stomach hurts.” Jules’ voice wavered. “And my mouth feels weird.”

Fuck. “Bathroom, hustle.”

The glimpse he caught of Jules before he vanished down the hall confirmed it: pallid skin, dilated pupils, sweat gleaming on the back of his neck. Remus rinsed his hands in the sink and dug the box of Pepto Bismol tablets out of his bag, and sent a silent thanks to whatever small mercy it was that left him without a reactive gag reflex.

He spent twenty minutes sitting sideways with water seeping into his pants from the bathmat. “I’m gonna throw up until I die,” Jules whined, pressing his forehead to Remus’ palm.

“You’re not gonna die. Definitely not while I’m here.” He slid his hand around to press against the nape of Jules’ neck and gave a light squeeze. “You’re almost done. Work it out, buddy.”

“Gonna miss the game?”

Despite the sweat, despite the illness, despite it all—Remus smiled. Of course Jules would be thinking about that when he looked like death warmed over. He wouldn’t be a Lupin with anything else on his mind. “We’ve still got half an hour.”

Jules gave a faint push back into his hand. His lower lip wobbled. “I don’t want to miss it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it.”

“I don’t—” His voice cracked, but it wasn’t even slightly funny. He took a shuddering inhale and sniffled again, harsher. “I don’t want to be sick anymore, I don’t, I’m so done, I don’t like it.”

“Jules…” The redness had flooded his cheeks and ears, inching down his neck with each horribly choked breath. Jules’ eyes were bright, but not like usual. He blinked and a drip tracked down his nose. His exhale wasn’t much of an exhale at all—it wracked him, made him sway. “Oh,” Remus murmured. “Oh, hey, c’mere.”

The edge of thirteen had left Jules gangly, all bones and joints. He still fit just right in the hollow of Remus’ chest and arms. A shivering, overheated mess, but a mess that fit all the same. Fuck it, Remus thought as he tightened his arms around Jules and let him fall apart in the safe dark. He didn’t care if he got sick. This was the most vital emergency he could possibly think of. If the administration had a problem with that, he’d happily turn his gear in before leaving Jules to burn through this alone.

“I’m tired,” Jules whispered through shuddering breaths. “My head hurts ‘n my stomach hurts ‘n everything else, too.”

“I know, bud, you’re being so brave.”

A damp, wounded noise made Remus wince.

“But hey, you haven’t thrown up in, like, five minutes.”

Jules felt around blindly for a tissue and blew his nose several times before answering. “I guess.”

“You ready to get up? Have some dinner and watch the game?”

“Dizzy.”

“Okay.” He pressed the wrinkles out of Jules’ shirt with his palm and felt him go limp. “I brought some super special secret hockey medicine, if that’ll help.”

“…is it Gatorade?”

“No, but we have that, too.” He rattled the box next to Jules’ ear. “Pepto Bismol. My secret weapon.”

“Nuh-uh. That’s the pink sh—stuff.”

“Nice save,” Remus said dryly. “This is the same. It’s easier to keep down, though. And it works faster.”

“Makes my stomach stop hurting?”

“It might help.”

He waited a beat, then two. A clammy palm extended from the tangle of limbs near his middle. He dropped two of the chalky tabs into it and loosened his hold by a degree, enough for Jules to pop them both in his mouth and frown immediately. “Yuck. It’s crunchy.”

“Keep chewing.”

“Why is it coming apart like that?”

“Keep chewing,” Remus repeated through a light laugh. “Doesn’t work if you talk the whole way through.”

Jules tucked his legs closer to himself, pushing him further into Remus’ lap. As horrible as the past twenty minutes had been, he seemed better for it. The fevered sheen to his face wasn’t quite as nuclear. His breathing sounded more even and controlled.

“You finished?”

“Mhmm.”

Jules might have looked better, but Remus didn’t have the energy to fight the coddling urge this time. He slid his free arm across the back of Jules’ knees and hefted him up like a cat gone boneless, and received no protest whatsoever. Instead, Jules curled into him with a long, relieved sigh. Remus’ heart may have shattered a little.

The pregame show was just wrapping up when he set Jules gingerly on the couch and pulled the blanket around him. Half of his waterbottle was gone in a few desperate swallows; Jules wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and all but collapsed onto the throw pillows, a heap of exhaustion. The belltower by the middle school tolled six. His sandy hair was damp at the root when Remus passed a hand through it. They’d fix that eventually. Fluids first (hockey first), then everything else.

New Message From: SB <3

Heading to the rink. Miss you love you : )

Remus smiled down at his phone as he set Jules’ bowl on the coffee table and folded himself into the armchair.

“Tell Sirius I say hi.”

“He’s literally right there,” Remus laughed, gesturing at the TV. “He’s not gonna see it for ages.”

“Still.” Jules poked around with his spoon for a few seconds before attempting a small sip of broth. An approving nod followed. “It’s good.”

“Glad it meets your standards. Eat. Protein, veggies, sodium, starch.”

Jules’ eye roll was weak, but very much present. “I know, I know.”

“You gotta know that stuff.”

“I’m not gonna be a doctor.”

“Yeah, but you’re still gonna be a person.” Remus cut a dumpling in half with the side of his spoon. “If you don’t know how to feed yourself by the time you move out, I’m totally making fun of you.”

“Whatever.”

They both booed when the Habs skated out, and cheered when the Lions appeared soon after. Jules couldn’t muster much more than a rough whisper, but the soup and a bottle of Gatorade seemed to help. Remus made him get up and stretch during the first period intermission (to immense complaints, but eventual acquiescence) before letting him rest while he washed up in the kitchen.

New Message From: SB <3

First period up.

How’s J?

New Message To: SB <3

Haha yeah we’re watching

Temp’s high, still pretty sick. Getting better tho

Made soup

The response was almost immediate. Remus’ heart skipped at the thought of Sirius glued to his phone even after a rough period, just to chat with him.

New Message From: SB <3

Oooo jealous

New Message To: SB <3

Yeah you should be

It’s a real rager up here

Miss you. Go get ‘em.

A simple heart and hockey stick emoji followed. The grey bubble cycled for a moment before disappearing. That would be the midgame meeting. Remus was glad to be home—wouldn’t trade this—but he had to admit the hockey ache was still there. Even easy choices had consequences.

By the time he looked back, Jules was asleep. Remus checked his forehead as delicately as he could and was pleased to find it slightly cooler than that morning, if altogether too warm. The pattern of creaky floorboards laid a map in his bones as he moved through the house: first to open Jules’ window, then to let his blankets air out, and while he was at it, he may as well wash the sheets. The nightstand and bookshelf needed to be wiped down. It wasn’t hard to get that done while the washer rumbled on the other side of the hall. In the meantime, the soup had cooled enough to pack up in Tupperware to stack in the fridge for later. Who knew if Jules would suddenly get his appetite back? The kid was a bear when he was hungry.

He lingered for the end of the second period and swapped the sheets into the dryer at the start of the third with a cookie and a cup of Emergen-C for himself. He damn well better not catch whatever germs Jules had percolated from the hellscape of middle school. Sirius had called him ‘stubbornly healthy’ on too many occasions for it to be disproven. Besides, the administration might actually fire him if he came back from an emergency and was immediately out for three more games.

“Re?”

The sound of a quiet voice took Remus’ off-guard in the last few minutes of the third period. “What’s up?”

Jules shifted around until he could prop his chin on the throw pillow and blink blearily at Remus. “Did we win?”

“Game’s still going. 4-3, Lions.”

“How much time?”

“Just under five.”

Jules attempted a whistle, though it came out as more of a shaky breath. “Almost there.”

“Dad texted. They’ll be home in a few, traffic was rough.”

“Oh, okay.” A small smile lit his face. He burrowed back under the blanket. “That’s good.”

“They’ve been asking about you all day.”

“Did’ja tell them I was fine?”

“Something like that.” Sort of. Maybe. He had been gentle about it, at least. Gory details would only make them panic.

He made sure to poke Jules awake for the last minute of the game before shepherding him down the hall to brush his teeth and shower. It was only 8:30, but Remus felt weary all the way to his core. He made Jules’ bed while the water ran and tried to tuck the sheets in along the wall a little deeper this time, just in case one tried to end up on the floor again. If he had the time, he may as well do it right, pinched fingers notwithstanding.

It was all worth it when Jules trudged back into his bedroom and threw himself into bed, only to gasp aloud. “Aw, man, this is great.”

“You’re welcome,” Remus laughed.

“Oh, wow.” The bumps of Jules’ feet kicked happily under layers of fabric and down. “It’s all warm, and cozy…”

“Get some sleep,” he reminded him, and turned out the big light. “If you need anything, I’m right next door.”

He made it halfway across Jules’ carpet.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“You—” The faint outline of Jules’ head was backlit by his lamp. Remus could see the shadows of his hands fidgeting with the top blanket. “Will you…can you tell me about the soup stuff? The proteins and all that.”

Remus hesitated. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Jules said with a surprisingly enthusiastic nod. “It sounds cool.”

“I mean—yeah, sure. Uh…” Jules’ desk chair looked wildly uncomfortable for this time of night, so edge of the bed it was, he supposed. The sheets provided a nice cushion when he sat. “Okay, have you ever heard of macromolecules?”

“That’s a made-up word.”

“It’s what you’re made up of, actually. How about DNA? You know that one?”

--

Lyall opened the front door with a muttered curse for the bitter wind and the worse traffic. It was brutally unfair that the one day he tried to come home early, everything went to hell and kept him an age and a half longer. What kind of karma came after a father trying to get home to his sick kid?

“It’s awfully quiet,” Hope remarked behind him. The door opened at last; warm air rushed over them. “Boys? Are you up?”

The NHL postgame show was playing at a low volume, next to a plate with crumbs on it and a mug so old the pattern had washed off it. One of Hope’s blankets from her knitting phase was haphazardly piled on the couch. The evidence of both of them there, present and accounted for and safe, plucked at his heartstrings. “Why do I feel like this is exactly where they sat for the entire day?”

She shook her head. “Good for them. I’m jealous. Remus? Julian? Are you home?”

Remus’ bedroom door was closed. The bathroom fan was still on, and steam clung to the corners of the mirror next to a still-damp towel. It couldn’t have been long since they went to bed, then. Lyall pushed Julian’s bedroom door open wider and covered his mouth with his palm.

They had nearly rendered each other invisible, save for Remus’ legs stretched over the side of the bed and Julian’s arm resting atop his pile of blankets. Julian’s congested snoring drowned out the heavy, even rhythm of Remus’ breathing. As far as he could tell, only one of them had actually been prepared for bed.

“Oh my goodness,” Hope whispered at his shoulder. Her grin was radiant, even half-covered by her palm. “I don’t want to move them.”

“Re’s going to wake up with one hell of a side cramp if we let him sleep like that.”

“You do it, then.”

“…no.”

Hope scoffed fondly and tossed her hands in the air, then kissed him on the jaw as she stepped deeper into the bedroom. The whole place felt lighter, Lyall noticed. Julian had been holed up in here for two days, refusing to come out for anything but necessities. Whatever Remus had done, it worked wonders.

“Remus,” Hope singsonged in her quietest voice. She shook his shoulder, soft enough that for a moment, Lyall forgot Remus wasn’t a toddler anymore. “Baby, you need to wake up. It’s bedtime.”

“ ‘M asleep,” Remus mumbled without opening his eyes. “In my bed.”

“This isn’t your bed, lovey,” she laughed. “Come on, up you go.”

“Goin’ to sleep, promise.” His eyelashes fluttered, nose crinkling. “Talking ‘bout—‘bout proteins. Jules wanted to know.”

At the head of the bed, Julian didn’t show so much as a hint of waking. Lyall stepped forward and braced his hands under Remus’ arms, then hoisted him into a sitting position as gently as he could manage with the unexpected weight of an athlete to counterbalance him.

Remus jolted, startling into consciousness. “Woah—”

“Shh, shh.” Lyall helped him stand on clumsy legs and guided him to the door with a last playful glance at Hope. “I’ve got you, buddy.”

“Fell asleep.” Remus blinked hard. “Jules’ bed. Wanted me to stay. Time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Oh, god, ‘s early.” A yawn overtook him, spilling more of his weight into Lyall. He didn’t seem to know where his own feet were, but he went easily into the room next door.

“Alright,” Lyall huffed as he helped Remus stumble toward the bed and splay over the mattress. That old thing was definitely too small for him these days. Funny, how times changed so rapidly. That same bed used to make Remus look like nothing more than a pile of sheets. “Brush your teeth?”

A drawn-out snore answered him.

Lyall smiled to himself in the darkness and ruffled the back of Remus’ hair. “Night, Re.”

A single socked foot twitched in response. That was good enough for him.

(Jules’ fever broke the next morning. By the end of the day, he was well enough to go with them to the airport and give Remus the fiercest goodbye hug either of them had experienced, with a pinky-promise that the Lions would win the next game he played.)

#remus lupin #julian lupin #sirius black #lyall lupin #hope lupin #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #fic o’ween 2023 #illness #sickfic #lupin bros #hurt/ comfort

[starlightandfairies]

Can I request one where reader and billy makeout together and billy tells reader he loves her, but PLOT TWIST! Reader is apart of the group who knows about the upside down and has been apart of all the craziness, so when hopper sees them he’s pissed bc he thinks of reader as a daughter? And ending it with billy kind of being like love you babe like hopper doesn’t bother him? I’m sorry if it goes against your rules if so please delete this!!!

Description: The reader gets told by Billy that he loves her and Hopper gets fatherly protective about the situation.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff,

*I'm sorry for how short it is, been all over the place lately. *

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 771

The least I can say is that this I as far as Billy and I got in our relationship. He respected it, and never pushed me to go further than I was comfortable with, which made me feel loved and cared for. Knowing that he wouldn't push me made me happy and he never got cranky if I wanted to stop mid-make-out session which is honestly what I think everyone deserves. Someone who wouldn't get angry if you wanted to stop. Billy and I had been going strong for the last little while, maybe to his dismay we only started getting touchy-feely around seven months of dating. We made out every now and again, usually when no one else was home or in the back of his car parked somewhere that gave us some peace from everyone else.

"Babe, where'd you go?" Billy whispered into my ear, I jumped slightly and smiled softly at him, whispering a quick apology for wandering off while we were being intimate. 

"Just thinking of us, how much I value our relationship," I whispered, he chuckled and kissed my lips before caressing my cheek.

"Well, I'm glad you do, do you want to continue?" I nodded, smiling softly and kissed his lips. Smiling against the kiss as he wrapped one arm around my waist, pulling me closer as he cupped my face with his other hand. I hummed gently as he kissed my lips, holding me with a loving hold. 

"I love you." I heard him whisper, I blushed shyly at the words, knowing he's not the type who opens up easily. I smiled happily at him, he chuckled and held me closer after I jumped at the aggressive tapping on the window. I glanced to see who it was, gulping slightly as I saw Hopper. He was like a father figure to me and so I felt like I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar as a little kid. 

"Out. NOW!" Billy gently pushed me out of the car, following me out, he kept a hand on the small of my back, and his attitude changed slightly as he looked at the man. 

"Can I help you, officer?" Billy asked with a slightly smug tone, I blushed slightly as Billy kissed my cheek, he smiled softly and I shot him a shy look that was also a little stern. 

"Hop, what's going on?" I questioned, rolling my eyes slightly as he pointed at Billy and walked him away. Billy didn't know about the upside-down, I've been trying to keep that away from him in the fear of him thinking I'm crazy. Also in fear of him being hurt. Last year I got pretty injured during the first battle of Hawkins Labs, so Hopper did the fatherly thing and put me on babysitter duty most of the time. I didn't mind looking after them all, but it sucked when he didn't fuss over Nancy or the others. Billy waited for Hopper as he walked over to me, I still felt like I had been caught doing something wrong and felt like I was about to be scolded. 

"Have you told him?" 

"No-" 

"Come with me." I walked over to Billy, smiling nervously at the boy and shifted nervously on my feet as Hopper began explaining all the stuff to Billy, he looked at me several times as if internally asking if it were real or not. I just gave a nod and whispered quietly to him. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I was scared." I apologised, he kissed my forehead and then turned to Hopper. 

"Don't worry, I can help out, I'll stick by Y/N's side, you've got nothing to worry about. And as for the other thing-" Billy turned to face me, he crouched down slightly and smiled with a cheeky grin. 

"Hey, darling, I love you. You're all that I need. I love you." He whispered, pulling me in for a hug. I'm assuming Hopper gave him the gold old 'do not hurt her' threat. This was probably just Billy's way of saying that he wouldn't or also an "I don't care what you say" I pecked his lips slightly and was taken back by the slight deepening of the kiss.

"Okay, okay, okay- break it up." Hopper pulled us apart, just like he did with Eleven and Mike. Billy winked at me slightly, his smugness coming out as he respectively tried to push Hopper's buttons. 

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[hisui555]

Hazbin Hotel Thoughts : Alcohol, Part 2 !

Part 1 here (Hazbin Crew)

Part 3 here (Heaven's side)

Masterpost here

So, just for your information. Last post has the record of gathering the quickest notes in the least time. Now that the Vees and other Overlords (but mainly the Vees, let's not kid ourselves) are on this one, wonder how it will fare. I think I already know the answer. Now let's jump to it.

The Vees

While they're all seen having a drink in the conference room, they haven't been seen nor mentioned getting inebriated, so it's mostly speculation from there.

Vox, from his personality, could cycle between "emotional", "nostalgic", and "pathetic", ranging from a hyper, super-excited guy that tries to one-up everyone to a sobbing mess because Alastor left meeeee...! and embarrass himself - well, not much of a change from his sober self, in retrospect. He would hold it relatively well though, have a bit of resilience until the watergates open, but the more Vox drinks, the closer he gets to the "emotional" side of it. On a darker side, he could also be the "violent" and "angry" type of drunk, especially around the middle of the slippery slope : not outright trying to get into fights but sure not stopping once it has started until he has gouged something out of someone, or someone out of something. But I can also see him being the "denying" type, trying to make people believe he's way less drunk than he actually is - he'll hide it well (having practice as a multimedia CEO and colleague babysitter)... for a while. The more he drinks the more cracks in the façade appear, at which point everyone can see he's sloshed even through a blindfold but won't peep a word unless they want to provoke the wrath of the TV man. The next mornings are spent deliberately avoiding eye-contact with him and editing everything out of feed themselves as to not tip him off either, and pretending collective amnesia (or even better : "Oh I wouldn't know, Mr Vox, I was too drunk !"). Blissful ignorance.

Vox would be somewhat around a normal weight, though he could outlast Charlie by a few glasses, but like Alastor if he downs a whole bottle he's done for. The only difference between them is that they would have their hints of tipsyness inverted : Vox would be physically clumsy but able to perfectly rant like Robin Williams with almost perfect pronounciation, while Alastor can keep up no problem on the dancefloor but have his words tying in knots and stumbling upon themselves like the screwiest pretzel. Well, that, and having their gazes slightly out of focus, a looser 100-watts grin and still talking to that poor coatrack in the corner that didn't asked for it - though Vox might be able to better differenciate things from living things, he's just unaware he's asking the wrong person about his pitch sale of demonic baby powder with abestos inside.

Velvette would be the "competitive" drunk, and the "cranky" one. On normal she already thinks everything and everyone is pants-on-head retarded, so a drunk Velvette might be able to dish out so much piling up verbal abuse you'd need wings to stay above it. She'd also be the "susceptible" type : breathe one word wrong and she's at your throat, whether it's someone way more powerful than her or not. Kinda the embodiment of yeah keep your eyes on Napoleon there, she's gonna start something we're gonna finish (absolutely not my 5' arse even when sober with my 6'4" friends in gatherings. Nope. Nnnnnope.) she'll promise to destroy you on every social media platform she mans or owns, and by the time she's right as rain again only remembers half of it. But she WILL want to know what went down, to turn it to her advantage and erase every instance of recorded poor decisions on her part. What's worse with her is that, like Lucifer, you can't really tell she's boozed up : it looks so much like her everyday attitude, only worse (congrats on that) that the only evidence will be the multiplying number of empty glasses and the diminishing levels of whatever's inside the bottles. The only metric you could go by is how fast she snaps when angry - if it's something in the milliseconds instead of the centiseconds, yep, she has a few glasses in her already. She'll still be coherent and girlbossing through it like a champ, busting out moves that would lead an Olympic pro skater into the Paralympics instead, and have astounishing eye for details despite her plastered state, as if it accrued her already good sense of picking up small things (only, again, to remember half of it once the rush goes down).

She'll probably hold better than what her weight and stature suggests, possibly outdrinking Vox, though not to the point of Angel, or Husk. She'll start feeling something around the 15th glass possibly, and by 20-22 is assuredly smashed, but hiding it rather well (undeliberately, it just doesn't really show on her) but I wouldn't want to be around her for the morning after, boy.

Valentino, hoooo sweet mother of god and all her wacky nephews, now he'll be something. As a pimp who regularly uses drugs and his various aphrodisiac/narcotic powers, smoke included, he'll be rather resistant, because he built said resistance overtime, and his lifestyle very much helps with that. He'll hold his own fairly well, but when he reaches the point of being three sheets to the wind, he goes down HARD. A slurry, half-coherent mess that just lets his body do its thing on its own, with bouts of sudden energy before crumbling down in a heap again. Don't ask him to dance unless you want yourself, and everyone else around, ending up in a hospital : him and a drunk Vox could take out everyone in a 10 meter radius during a slow waltz. Given his temperament, Val would hop from "angry" and "violent" type (unlike Vox, he will seek out the fights and shoot at the slightest provocation) to "seducing" and "happy with everything", but the surprising part, methinks, would be that he'd be also a "nostalgic" and "contemplative" type of drunk, and NOBODY expected that one. He'll wax philosophical while downing his 20th glass and musing about life, one elbow on the counter, nursing the drink in his hand, before snapping back to shooting the fucking pianist dead because the tune irritates him. It's really a ping-pong game of states and you better fucking hope he doesn't get to serve, because that curveball is hard to dodge. He also loves the feeling of being fuzzed out of his mind (fuzzed. FUZZED. Two Z, gutterbrains) and riding the wave while it lasts, but he hates having to depart from it and will prolong it as much as he can. Not that his mornings are particularly bad, unlike Velvette above, but because he likes just giving into the impulse and not having to care about pesky things like thinking and managing a business.

He'll need a bottle and a half or two to get completely tanked, and will range from impossible to reason with and be let loose, to semi-casual during his contemplative episodes. Basically, he's like a tornado : you point him in a certain direction opposite to you and when shit stops flying, you hope you're in a better shape than whoever poor schmucks were around at that time. He will 100% confuse people with things, and, as the meme goes in this fandom, try to make out with a lamppost or two, then become angry that it ain't listening to get in the car for more "fun". Hey, I had to say it, it would have been a missed opportunity otherwise.

Other Overlords

Rosie isn't against a few glasses of fine wine (it goes well with liver, as we all know), and very much knows how to keep her composure, but also lets herself get loose a bit. She's the "giggling" type, finding everything charming and funny, but again, don't be fooled, that makes her no less dangerous, just jollier and sillier. Might also say hello to every bird and dog that passes and curtsy to the local squirrel if quite inebriated, but otherwise she can tank it like a boss : expect at least two bottles down, and she'll give Husk a run for his money. Careful with the chop-chop-happy attitude, though. She could also bust out cutting sarcasm that would normally be hidden behind the sober filter, a bit like Treasure Planet's Captain Amelia.

Zestial... doesn't know what getting smashed looks like. He'll stick to his tea, thank you very much, but on the occasion, does enjoy a very fine wine. He'll be the only guy still standing after everyone else is shaking the white sheet, shrug, and go on his way. This ancient and powerful being is above the turpitude of youngsters and their funny, slurry-worded games.

Carmilla, while reasonable, would be a "tired" drunk - if she ever drank herself to this point to begin with. Everything's too loud, she can't find what's so funny about the curtains' motif or the wallpaper, and just watch, trying to blink away her daze, as others make fools of themselves. She's in no mood for fancy acrobatics but might casually pop one move or two in a complete blasé way to avoid that stumbling drunkard. The main difference is that she's slower, a wee bit sloppier, but no less graceful - it's like a different type of grace, one that's more languid, applied, tai-chi like. She might also become something of a terse talker, giving out a few words at a time, expect monosyllables and vague non-committing hums from her. If launched on a topic of interest, blurts out very technical and analytic paragraphs, only to switch back to one word every five minutes once it's done. Wouldn't be very sociable either, and avoid contact on reflex : it's just not her thing.

Next part, Heaven's side !

Again, Masterpost here.

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