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luveline · 2 years

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. queue smiley face oatmeal, grossly misused power tools, desserts on the living room floor, a haircut, and an abundance of nerd metaphors [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie ends up being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general loneliness, mentions of a shitty/traumatic pregnancy, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, you wash eddie's hair!!!! this was low-key requested by anon

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie opens the door and finds a little girl on the steps of his house. Little girl feels generous – she's barely more than a baby. In a set of tiny matching pajamas and white socks stained green from the morning grass, she looks up at him with wide, sad eyes.

"Hey," he says carefully. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Good morning," she says, though it comes out blurry.

"Good morning," he repeats with a breathless laugh, instantly endeared.

He curls his hand around the railing and squats down. She really is very cute and obviously well looked after, although he realises upon closer inspection that she's been crying.

"Where's your mommy?" Eddie feels silly as he asks, but what else do you say when you find kids by themselves?

He's not really expecting her to know the answer. She pouts her small mouth and Eddie freezes up.

"Mommy.” Her breath quivers.

"Don't cry," he says very gently.

It doesn't work, obviously, and she starts whimpering in a way that turns Eddie's heart entirely.

"Let's find mommy, okay? Do you wanna do that? Wanna come and find mommy with me?"

"Yes," she says, though it quickly draws up into a sharp cry.

Eddie treks down the stairs and turns back, waiting. The little girl looks down at the steps and her eyebrows furrow as she places one foot after the other, looking like her socks are stuck to a fly trap.

He holds his hand out. "You got it," he says encouragingly, wiggling his fingers.

Her relief is palpable. Her brows smooth as she takes his hand, so small he can cover her entire palm with the meat of his thumb. She wobbles down the steps and then hesitates at the damp ground awaiting.

Eddie drops his gaze to her wet feet.

She looks up at him. Eddie doesn't think she means to but her eyes are pleading,and he's already moving to pick her up when she lifts her arms into the air.

She's heavier than he anticipates. He quickly gets used to the weight, shifting her against his side with his arm under her butt, her damp foot digging into his abdomen. She rests one hand on his shoulder and the other reaches for his hair. He can't help smiling at her as she pets the dark mess, hand clumsy but well-intentioned.

He walks down past the van and onto dark asphalt, looking up and down the road to see if anyone's around. He figures she has to be a trailer park kid – she can't have walked very far, and she'd been waiting outside. She must've gotten mixed up and thought his trailer was her own, which hopefully means her mom lives close.

The steps up into his trailer are on the right side. Eddie guesses she's come from the right. It's not a great assumption — he's grasping at straws.

"What's your name?" he asks.

She's taken a lock of his hair into her hands. Eddie worries for a second that she's going to try eating it but she only waves it around, looking pleased.

"I'm Eddie."

"Dee," she says.

"Almost. Eh-dee," he spells out, again not actually expecting her to understand what he's saying. He's unsure about kids her age – he's unsure what age she even is.

She babbles something unintelligible and Eddie hikes her higher up his chest. He strides out of the cool shadow and blinks, shielding his eyes against the yellow-white glare of sunshine. The little girl hides her face in his hair.

He hasn't walked very far when he sees you behind the trailer three doors down, pinning clothes that look the same size as the girl's pajamas to a clothesline with unhurried hands. The front door is wide open.

"Your poor mommy," he murmurs as he approaches, "out here doing the laundry by herself and you're halfway to Indianapolis. Musta got turned around, huh?"

You drop a small light blue dress on the floor and cuss just loud enough for Eddie to hear it. You pick it up fast and brush it down, looking over the fabric worriedly.

Eddie cuts over soft grass, giving the baby's waist a pat and holding her ears away from his mouth as he raises his voice. "Hey, is this your kid?" he asks.

You flinch toward him and your eyes go wide – wide, your lips parting and your brows jumping down like you might start yelling.

You're really fucking pretty.

Eddie’s quick to placate you. "She was sitting on my front steps."

You still don't look very happy though your suspicion melds to confusion and then a stab of too-late worry. You rush towards them and Eddie turns his body to encourage the girl's gaze to you. His chest warms when she perks up.

She wriggles in his arms impatiently and Eddie's surprised by how quickly she starts to cry, reaching out for you with insistent grabbing hands as he passes her over.

"It's okay," you say softly, tucking her into your chest.

The difference in body language is unmissable. Where she'd been restless (though more than pleasant) in Eddie's arms, she completely melts into yours. Her little face presses into your neck and her legs curl up. You pat her butt soothingly. "It's okay, baby. Where have you been?" You look up at him for an answer with concern lining your pretty features.

"I'm only three down," he says.

"Oh… Thank you," you say roughly.

Your gratitude is unnecessary. "That's okay. She's real sweet. I opened the door and the first thing she said was, 'good morning,'" he recalls with an easy smile.

Joy lightens your entire face. He feels his breath catch in his throat.

"She did? She said that?"

"Yeah, she did.” He tries not to sound as confused as he feels.

Your eyes close with the force of your smile. You encourages your toddler’s face back and drop your chin to plant kisses all over her tiny cheeks. Eddie feels something foreign yawning in his chest as she starts to laugh, a tinkling sound that's sugar sweet.

He scratches his neck and pretends to look over his shoulder, tamping his smile back into a neutral expression.

"She's having trouble talking," you say, lifting your head as the baby's giggles taper off. "She can talk, she says 'mommy' all the time, but she's s'posed to be saying more 'cos she's almost two and I know she can do it, she's so smart, but-" You cut yourself off and laugh all breathless and sheepish. "Sugar, I'm sorry. I mean- Sorry. Thank you," it almost bursts from you, "for bringing her back. I don't know…"

"You just moved in, right?" You nod. "The lock on the front door- they're all exactly the same, you just gotta shake it and it unlocks. Even someone small as her can could get it open with enough determination."

"She can be very determined," you say ruefully, voice hushed. You're still patting her butt, swaying her from side to side. Eddie's in awe at how quickly she's settled, her button features crumpled by a big yawn. "Always gets what she wants."

"I bet she does, she's a total heartbreaker."

You take a step towards him, your beat up sneakers half a foot from his converse. "She can't help it, she was born this pretty," you say. He loves how braggy you sound.

"I can see where she gets it."

As soon as he says it he wishes he could take it back. Not because he doesn't think it's true – you're really something else – but because he doesn't want to creep you out.

Luckily, he's rewarded for his bravery by another beaming smile, your words warm as you tell him, "They said she was the prettiest baby they'd seen in twenty years up in Eskenazi general."

The name pricks his ears. "You're from Indianapolis?"

"Kind of." You tilt your head to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Eddie." He could applaud himself on how normal he sounds and how not normal he feels.

"Eddie, I'm Y/N. D'you wanna come in for coffee? Or I can make you some breakfast? To say thank you for taking care of my Junie."

"Junie," he repeats, surprised.

You shift from foot to foot. "She's a June baby. And she's getting kind of heavy these days, so. Breakfast?"

He follows you up the steps and through the back door.

"You can leave it open," you say over your shoulder.

He catches an eyeful of your bathroom, an organised chaos that smells intoxicating, the rich scent of jasmine heavy in the humidity chased by something softer. Talcum powder, he thinks.

You murmur something to Junie too quiet to hear and she rouses from her dozing, grizzling weakly.

"It's breakfast time! Is that what you tried to come and find me for, some breakfast? So impatient," you scold her lightly, smiling all the while as you set her into a bright blue high chair with a big yellow duck with orange flippers printed on the cushioning.

You squeeze one of her feet and frown. "Your socks are wet. Did you go swimming in the grass?"

Eddie leans against the doorway leading into the kitchen. He doesn't have any experience with kids. You make it look easy, pulling off her stained socks while she wiggles her protest and tickling the soles of her feet with the tip of your finger until she's happy again.

You turn back to him, socks clutched in your hand. "I'm gonna make oatmeal. Is that something you…"

"I'm an oatmeal fiend."

You grin and do a lap to close the front door. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee? I got milk and brown sugar."

He throws himself into the seat next to the high chair with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Brown sugar? Sweetness, you're spoiling me."

Junie laughs. Eddie pulls himself up into a proper sitting position and gawps at her exaggeratedly. "What's funny, little lady?"

She giggles some more. Eddie leans his elbow on the tray of the high chair and pretends to glare at her. "I can already tell you're trouble."

"She likes you."

"Yeah?" he asks, looking at you over his shoulder.

You're half obscured by cabinets as you poke your head out, an open sack of rolled oats in one hand and a small pan in the other. You nod happily and move to the sink. He can hear the sound of the faucet and the burner clicking on, the saucepan sliding over the stovetop.

"I like you," he says to Junie quietly, rapping his knuckles on the tray. "But don't tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation."

"So, uh, how long have you lived here?" you call, almost smothered by the rushing sound of oats tipping into hot water.

Junie makes a funny face like she might sneeze. Eddie watches. "Since I was a kid." He's smiling as he talks, amazed when Junie starts to smile back. He nods his head gently up and down to encourage her. "Too long. Not that it's not nice here."

Junie looks like she agrees.

"For sure, but.. not always where you picture yourself," you say tentatively.

He hums his agreement. "Whatever though, right? A roof is a roof. Even when the roof is made of cardboard and corrugated metal. I mean, all things considered, this is a well kept vessel."

He's not just trying to make you feel better – you really are making a go of it. There's not nearly as much clutter or decoration as his own home but it's twice as clean and every surface brags a clear affection – you fucking love your daughter. There's a framed photo of her as she looks now at the mantle without a single fingerprint on the glass, baby photos in smaller frames hang on the wall.

Smallest of all, a photo of the two of you together. Your hands on her shoulders, your lips and nose pressed to her forehead. You're not looking at the camera, but Junie is, and she's exuberant.

Toys, though few, are arranged neatly under the TV. It's really the type of clean that takes hours. He wonders how you'd ever make time for it.

"You got a job?"

"Yeah, I'm waitressing at Benny's?" You say it like a question. "The burger place?"

"Yeah, I know the one. Randolph Lane, near the laundromat. Does Junie go with you?" he asks. He cooes Junie's name and feels very happy when the girl in question smiles some more, reaching out with her hands. Eddie offers up the same palm she'd taken before and lets her squeeze his fingers in a surprisingly tight grip. "She looks like a working girl."

"Benny said I could bring her with me until she starts daycare next week, so she really is a working girl." You giggle madly and Junie loves the sound, her chubby cheeks rounding as she smiles.

"I knew it," Eddie whispers conspiringly. "You have the face for it."

Junie laughs like something is truly hysterical and Eddie can't believe it, squeezing the small girl's smaller fingers in his and waving their joined hands together.

"She really likes you," you say, closer now.

You set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He pulls his hand from Junie's and moves the hot mug away from the high chair though she'd never be able to reach it as you set your own mug and a pint of milk half-full across from him, the brown sugar you'd promised in a pink and orange ceramic dish with a lid that clinks as he pulls it off.

You double back into the kitchen. This time you bring a baby bottle full of what he guesses is diluted juice and two teaspoons, handing him one with a quiet, "For you."

"Why thank you," he drawls.

He spoons a generous hill of crumbly brown sugar into his cup and swirls.

"The oatmeal needs to soften. Is there anything you want with it? I've got lots of options," you tell him, pouring milk into your own mug. When you're done you and Eddie swap.

He thinks maybe you sound a little nervous and wonders if he's the first neighbour you've met. Or maybe you're still freaked out about Junie.

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't look at you as he splashes milk into the dark recesses of his coffee, watching as it bursts back up to the surface and turns the drink a more acceptable brown. "What do you usually have?"

"Junie gets peanut butter and blueberries."

He tilts his head toward his shoulder just slightly and plants his elbows on the table, the rim of his mug held in tenuous fingertips.

"What do you get?" he asks, thinking that if the baby gets such a sweet treat you must get something equally impressive. He thinks of raspberries and chia seeds, flakey sea salt and bitter dark chocolate.

You blink. "What?"

"What do you have, on your oatmeal?" He punctuates his question with a sip.

"Salt. Sometimes raisins."

You make a nice cup of coffee. Eddie holds it in both hands and leans into the table. "That's it?"

You shrug. Junie starts to whimper about something Eddie doesn't understand. You reach out to hold her hand. "She loves blueberries. Don't you, Junie?"

"Blue," Junie says.

You're smiling as you take another small spoonful of brown sugar. You lick the tip of your finger and dip it into the well of the spoon until a few grains are sticking to you and hold it up to Junie's lips. "She loves sugar, too, but toddlers aren't s'posed to have it. Or so they say." You smile as she sucks the sugar off before wiping your spit wet finger in your pants.

Daughter appeased for a moment, you hold your chin in your palm and turn your attention to him. "Where do you work?"

He imagines this is how a plant feels when the sun comes out. "The Hideout, for now. I'm a very essential and irreplaceable bus boy." He nods very seriously.

"What's after?"

"Music."

Your lips curl into an interested smile. "Music? You a singer?"

"I have a great set of windpipes," he says agreeably, grinning. "But I'm a guitarist."

"And you're in a band?"

"I- I was. Yeah, we were good, too, but everybody graduated and our drummer skipped town. I just sub rhythm guitar for whoever wants me to."

"At the Hideout?"

"At the Hideout." He decides on his next words carefully. You could come see me play. Weak. You're welcome to come see it for yourself. Too strong? You're welcome to come by one night. Bring Junie.

He's not asking you on a date; he's a new acquaintance extending an invitation for you to get out and see a new place. That's all it is.

He opens his mouth to try and suddenly there's a loud clattering. Eddie flinches, blinks, finds that Junie has thrown her bottle of juice across the room.

Eddie waits for you to maybe tell her off like some of the mom's he's seen at Bradley's. A glare, a hissing remark to be good.

You reach over and your shirt rides up your back. Eddie averts his gaze guiltily.

You put the bottle back on the tray, giving him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Junie has recently discovered that every time she drops something I'll pick it up for her."

"Smart Junie."

The bottle falls to the floor again. "She's a genius." You don’t sound entirely pleased, picking the bottle up again and holding it just out of Junie's reach. You shake it up and down. "S'juice. You like juice," you try to reason with her.

Junie reaches for it. You purse your lips. "Be good," you say softly.

Junie takes the bottle and shakes it.

It's a small victory and still softens every feature. Your eyes squint, your bottom lip juts out a touch, your nostrils flare with a pleased inhale.

"Thanks, junebug."

"Tanks," Junie says.

"Thanks," you repeat, bubbly baby talk. "Thanks. Say thanks, Junie."

Eddie watches you encourage her over his coffee. It's quiet, peaceful here in a way nowhere else in his life has ever been besides quiet Sunday mornings with his Uncle. There's only the sound of the gas stovetop burning and your happy, patient voice.

Junie says "Tanks," a couple more times. You don't give up. When she finally says something that sounds almost like a "Thanks," you whip your gaze to his.

"Did you hear that?" you ask. Your pride is evident.

He puts down his half empty mug. "She said it."

"She said it," you repeat, your shoulders moving in the tiniest happy dance he's ever seen. You stand up and take her face into delicate hands. "She's my smarty pants. Aren't you, baby?"

You dot a kiss over her head and head back into the kitchenette.

"Tanks," Junie says animatedly, running on an affection high. She accidentally knocks her bottle over.

"Thanks, Junie," Eddie corrects, righting it.

He finds it easier to baby talk than he imagined. Being nice to little kids – that's easy. Especially as he gets older. When they hit the pre-teen mark is when he starts to steer clear, but even then he can't help doting on them sometimes. Like his club – idiots, annoying idiots, but his annoying idiots. He doesn't hold back with them. He doesn't feel like he's holding back now, either, it's just different.

Baby's want love. Care and affection.

And to pull Eddie's hair, apparently.

Junie's reaching over the gap with a fierce look on her face. Eddie pulls his chair closer and decides to let her try it out. She hadn't given him any reason to worry before, and she doesn't now as she takes a chunk of his hair into her hand. She pulls very gently, likely more that her fingers have gotten caught in his messy curls than any maliciousness.

"What's your fascination with my hair?" he asks her.

In her own home Junie's very noisy. When he'd found her outside she hadn't done much besides whimper weakly. Now, she's a riot of gurgling and humming.

"Are you a singer, Junie?" he asks.

"She sings all the time! She loves the Muppet Babies on TV, but I- uh, I haven't been able to actually get cable, yet. But when I get paid next week…" You come back into view with two bowls in hand. "She'll be in her oils."

Eddie says thanks as you put a bowl down in front of him. There's a smiley face there made up of berries with banana slices for eyes. He feels something crawling up his throat and has no idea what it is, and then something completely different when he sees your own bowl, a stretch of plain oatmeal with no delicious adornment.

You leave and quickly return with a smaller bowl, a baby spoon and a jar of peanut butter.

"Do you want some?" you ask, opening the jar to push the baby spoon inside. "I would've just put it in anyway but then I worried you were allergic."

You hand it off to Junie and she licks at it happily.

"Sure, I'll have some. Where's your smiley face?" he asks.

Your eyes widen slightly. Eddie's not academically inclined but he's never been stupid, and he sees it for what it is, something he's seen in himself and in every other poor kid who didn't bring lunch to school.

"I don't really like bananas," you say.

Whether you're lying or not isn't something he needs to know.

"Well, you're gonna have to share the blueberries with me, I can't eat this much fruit. I got a hearty diet of chips and microwave oven dinners to uphold."

Eddie shovels half of the smile into your bowl. You clutch your spoon in your hand like you want to protest, but no way is he gonna watch you miss out on nice things in your own home.

You smile and don't say anything for a while, rubbing the edge of the bowl with your spoon, your thoughts somewhere else.

Junie's food sits billowing steam in the middle of the table, which annoys the poor girl endlessly. She wiggles and murmurs and sucks at her empty spoon with a growing line between her brows.

Eddie eats and feels much better when you finally start to eat your own meal, leaning back in his chair heavily to loll his head towards Junie. "Your mom makes amazing oatmeal. You're really missing out."

You choke on a laugh and grab her spoon to load up with another small heap of peanut butter. "That is so cruel to lord over her,” you say. “I can't give it to her yet! It's scorching. She has a fragile mouth."

"I'm sure."

He picks one of his blueberries out of the bowl and offers it to Junie, who takes it slowly despite her previously rabid hunger

More oatmeal eating. Eddie ends up giving the rest of his fruit to Junie, your generous dollops of peanut butter more than enough to enjoy the oatmeal. He might argue it doesn't need any adornment at all.

You stir peanut butter into Junie's bowl and wrestle the baby spoon out of her tight grip.

It's a process to watch. You scoop up oatmeal, blow on it until you're sure it's cool, and push it into Junie's mouth efficiently. There's a method to it, the way you lift the handle of the spoon so oatmeal doesn't drip straight back out of her mouth. When it does you scrape the lip gently against her chin to catch it before it ruins her shirt.

It starts to rain. Hard not to notice, a light drizzle opens and sprays down against the windows and for a moment there's no reaction. Then, gasping, you drop Junie's bowl back onto the table in stress.

"Shit, the laundry. Are you okay to watch her please? Sorry. I'll be five seconds," you say, already heading for the back door.

"Sure.” He sounds about as startled as he feels.

The back door shushes open and your feet dip down the steps. Junie is not very pleased with her breakfast getting put on pause, her face growing as unpleasant as the weather outside.

"Mommy," she says, unhappy and loud.

Eddie doesn't think about it as he picks up her bowl. It's more a pulse of feeling than a thought. Feed her and she won't cry.

He blows on a spoonful of oatmeal with likely too much vigour.

Junie's still complaining as he holds it in front of her face. If she's surprised to be fed by somebody who isn't her mom she doesn't show it, her sticky face growing suddenly slack as she realises her oatmeal is back in play. Her lips part.

He feeds her oatmeal, does a very bad job, and tries to gather what's escaped with the spoon as Junie waves her hands around and pokes at spilled food on the white tray in front of her. By the time you come back damp and breathless with the cold chasing your heels he's successfully managed to feed her what was left of her breakfast. He's embarrassed to be caught but tries not to show it.

"You okay?" he asks, looking you up and down amicably.

"S'only a little rain." You push the laundry basket onto the sofa and smile sheepishly. "You didn't have to do that."

"And have the precious little lady starve?"

"Starve!" you repeat, a feigned incredulousness to your tone.

"She was giving me the puppy dog's," he says, shrugging as he takes the spoon out of Junie's wet fingers.

She whines for a second at his robbery but seems to realise she's full, picking her juice back up to shake some more.

You exhale through an open-mouthed smile.

"Thank you. She's gonna love you now, she loves anyone who gives her food. She's a real cadge at the diner. Never seen so much free cherry pie in my life," you remark, turning to what looks like your diaper station. You wade through a mess of things he doesn't recognise and pull out a packet of baby wipes.

"And her mom? Is her affection so easily garnered?"

"Takes more than a cherry pie to win me over," you joke, sitting down in your chair in front of the high chair with a soft sigh. You pull out one of the wipes and take Junie's wrists into your hand, wiping her fingers clean methodically. "I need at least a squirt of whipped cream on top before I consider any fondness."

He chuckles and you laugh too. It's short-lived, your lips pursed as you wipe Junie's face clean. She hates every second of it, writhing in her chair like she's being tortured as you clean a mess of brown and blue from her round chin.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. Done, done," you say, holding your hands up in surrender.

She pouts.

"Don't be like that," you scold her mildly. "Look how lovely and clean you are now! Eddie can see how pretty you look again."

You slide your hands under her armpits and pull her out of the highchair, groaning.

"Oh, there you go. Where's Mr. Bear gone, baby? You can play sticky bricks with him so I can get ready for work."

Work. Work. Where Eddie was going. Where Eddie is very likely supposed to be. He checks the time and his eyes flare, standing up abruptly. You turn toward him with Junie anchored on your hip, both wearing matching expressions of curiosity.

"Sh-“ Don’t swear around babies. “I'm sorry, I got somewhere to be that I totally spaced on."

You blink. "That's okay."

"It was sick to meet you," he says.

You blink some more and walk to the front door, pulling it open as an understanding smile curls your lips. "Super 'sick,'" you say, bemused. "Thank you so much for bringing Junie back. Really, I mean, if anything ever happened to her." You don't finish because it's obvious, your bright tone underlain with a burning fear.

He walks sideways out of the door and down one step, knowing he's super fucking late but not caring too much as he says, "Listen, I can bring you a deadbolt."

"You could?"

"Sure thing. Make sure this little lady," and he says it chidingly, directing his gaze at Junie who goes all shy and smiley from the attention, "doesn't go on anymore morning adventures. Especially without her shoes."

"That would be… that would be awesome, Eddie. Thank you."

He waves his hand and descends the last of the steps. "I'll come around tomorrow?"

It's a Saturday today. He's not surprised that you're both working the weekend, but he is surprised that you're working Sunday too when you say, "Would after five be okay?"

"That's more than okay. Bye, trouble," he says to Junie, bringing a hand up to shield his hair from the drizzling rain.

You look lovely on the stoop, fresh-faced and in your lounge clothes. You tug Junie up your chest and take her hand into yours. "Say 'bye', Junie," you tell her, waving her hand. "Bye! Bye-bye, Eddie."

"Bye Junie!" he calls, waving at the little girl with great fervour.

"Bye!" Junie calls back.

You both grin.

You're super tired from work and exhausted from an upset daughter. Even now Junie fusses. She hasn't been getting her naps because you can't set her down anywhere that isn't the wooden high chair in Benny's restaurant, which is months of a routine disrupted.

You're not mad at her – the opposite, you feel awful to mess her up like this, awful that she's so upset. Trying your very best to calm her down, you're swaying her from side to side in the middle of your messy living room with your hand patting a steady rhythm into the narrow breadth of her back.

"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry. You'll get your nap tomorrow, I promise," you say, trying for softness and missing, desperation eating at your tone.

You try not to have a heart attack at the thought of her first day at the new daycare. I can't think about it, you tell yourself, moving your thoughts onto the Sunday checklist.

Junie's been fed. Unfortunately, she's the kind of wound up where the only solution you can think of is to get her in bed. If you can get her down soon she'll sleep until maybe 4AM. Not ideal; you'd prefer she slept later tonight and woke up at a healthier 6AM with you. When she does wake, no matter the time, you'll have her eat something substantial for breakfast and take a much needed bath.

Laundry, bills, cleaning, it all runs through your head. Junie's hair, her snacks for daycare, her clothes. Does she have clean socks for the week? Does she have a vest top for tomorrow?

Her crying grows loud and you can't think of anything except how overwhelmed you feel.

"It's okay, baby, just go to sleep." You shush her softly.

Somebody knocks the door.

You and Junie are similarly nonplussed. Her crying ceases for a second and her head turns in tandem with yours.

"Oh. Oh, you know who that is, huh?" you ask her, making for the door while her cries are still on pause. "That's our new friend Eddie. You remember Eddie?"

You pull open the door. There he is on the porch with a bag and a plastic case, wearing a shirt with short sleeves. You realise for the first time that he has tattoos.

"Hi," you say.

"Hi. Hi, Junie," he adds, looking at her tear-stained face. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"No, you're good. You're great, thank you for doing this." You lean back against the door and Eddie skirts past you. That close, you can smell the heavy sage and sandalwood of his cologne and see the beauty mark under his ear, dark hair tucked behind the shell.

He stops in the middle of the room and puts down the plastic case. "I'm gonna try to do it. Try being the essential word, and I make absolutely no promises." He makes a small cross with his hands leading out and the bag falls from the crook of his elbow to his wrist.

It sounds like more than a deadbolt. Eddie sees your gaze and jumps into theatrics that hook Junie's attention straight away, ruffling through the bag. He pulls out a VHS tape and then a second, one old and one newer.

"For your consideration." He presents them grandly against his check, his eyes flitting from your daughter to the tapes in wait of her reaction.

Junie has no clue what a VHS is. She thinks the TV is magic.

You swoop in and gasp loudly for Junie's sake, having identified his proffered tapes immediately.

"You know what that is?" you ask her, pointing at the slipcover. "Muppet Babies! There's Kermit and Fozzy and Rowlf and Gonzo." You touch your finger to each puppet in turn as you reel off their names.

Junie looks up at you like maybe she remembers, so you start to sing the theme tune for her. "Muppet Babies, they make their dreams come true. Muppet Babies, they'll do the same for you!"

The song jogs her memory. She starts her nonsense singing in a valiant but juvenile effort to recreate the music, dancing in your arms.

You sing it again for her as you lower her to the floor. She doesn't whine to be picked back up, a great sign that her mood has turned, instead walking to the TV, a small silver combi with a bubble screen. She raises her arms up high and starts hitting the TV stand with her palms flat.

Eddie looks to you as if he's checking that it's alright before crossing the small space and turning on the TV, your relieved smile more than enough encouragement. He's careful not to step on Junie's feet, surprised when she walks into his leg. She grabs onto his jeans and looks up at him with wide eyes.

Eddie visibly softens.

It's kind of crazy to see him, this metalhead dude covered in dark tattoos and wearing safety pinned jeans looking down at a toddler with nothing but patience in his eyes.

He drops his hand very lightly to her tiny back and pushes in the tape. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi," Junie says.

She doesn't let him touch her for very long, falling to her knees to pull out the bin of stickle bricks hiding underneath as Eddie fast forwards through the adverts and then turns up the volume until the Muppet Babies theme is echoing against the wood panelled walls..

Junie's eyes dart up the screen, two bricks held in her hands and a great smile on her face.

"Where did you find that?" you ask, in awe.

He steps over her and comes back to your side, crossing his arms over his stomach with a smug smile. "Not telling. Ruins the magic. Got The Bugs Bunny Show for when she gets bored of Miss Piggy."

You smooth down your rumpled black work skirt and smile shyly. "I can pay you back… Next week."

He looks lost for words for a split-second. It clears fast, and he says, "Tell you a secret. I have a friend down at good old Family Video that let me have 'em for nothing."

"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. You worry he's lying to make you feel better.

"Uh-huh. Friends in high places," he brags sarcastically.

You turn to watch Junie smile for the first time in hours and have to scrub your face to hide how shattered you feel. It's been a really long week. Your relief is a physical thing, a hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself deflate.

"You okay?" Eddie asks.

You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks. "Thank you. Really. You saved me."

"Yeah?" he asks, dialling up the drama. He lifts his chin high. "Would you say, oh, I don't know, that I'm your hero?"

It's his clear joking tone that saves him. If you'd detected even a smidge of genuine expectancy from him you likely would've shoved him out the door.

"Mm-hm. My hero," you croon, both of you grinning.

He turns back to the grocery bag and pulls out a bottle of juice. "I was gonna bring coke but I didn't want Junie to feel left out."

You move to the cabinets and can't believe how nice he is. You get a little warning stab, that feeling of if it's too good to be true… and shake it off. Maybe it'll turn out that way and you're not gonna do anything stupid to chance it, but he seems like a normal guy. A good neighbour who wants to be your friend.

You're in dire need of one of those.

"What was wrong with the little lady?"

You pour juice into a glass for him, less into a glass for you, and a half-inch into a clean baby bottle. "I can't get her down for a nap when she's with me at work and it really caught up to her today. She-" You yawn so wide it hurts your cheeks, covering your face with your arm.

Eddie looks up from where he's kneeling in front of the open plastic case he'd brought with him. "Caught up to you too, I think."

"A little." You smile ruefully.

He holds something red and black in the air. "This'll wake you up," he says.

It's a small hand drill. He presses down on the trigger twice in quick succession and Junie lies down on the floor to look backwards at him.

“Woah,” you say.

Junie rolls onto her knees and then stands. She's in that stage of walking where she can mostly do it but has a great tendency to trip over anything that might be in her way, and she stumbles as she approaches. Eddie moves the drill away from her and opens the case wide to show her his array of drill bits.

"How'd you like them, Junie?" he asks. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"What do they all do?" you ask.

"I don't have the foggiest," he says, grinning up at you. "And I really wanted to be cool and pretend that I did. I was going to, but you asked me that and now we're sunk."

Junie pokes at all the silver metal and turns away, bored, to return to her cartoons.

"I'm sorry," you say, not sorry at all.

"You should be." He shakes his hair out. "Can't say woodshop was something I ever paid much attention to in school."

You squat down beside him where he's counting the screws out for the deadbolt he'd acquired for you, your small cup of juice in hand. The deadbolt isn't new but it's clean of rust and that's all you care about. It doesn't need to do anything besides work.

"It can't be too hard though, right?" you ask quietly. There isn't any need to talk loudly this close to him and your head is starting to hurt from a long day.

"I hope not." He passes you the drill. "Hold onto that?"

He stands and you follow, the deadbolt frame in hand. He turns to your front door and holds it up to the frame, far from the door knob. "Where'd you want this thing?"

"Wherever you think is best," you say quickly.

"Got a pencil?"

You don't. You're ashamed to offer him a cyan blue crayon from Junie's arts and crafts. He takes it with a gleeful smile and uses it to draw a line under the deadbolt's two parts to make sure they fit together once they've been drilled in.

Junie starts fussing and you squint at her, trying to guess what's wrong. You leave the drill on the small table by the door.

"Junie, you want some dinner?" you ask, walking up behind her where she's stood watching TV. You rub her shoulder and lean over her, your face upside down in front of the TV. "I don't think you're hungry. Let's change that diaper."

She certainly doesn't want you to. You turn to Eddie where he's making clumsy crosses on the door in place of the screws, his brows furrowed.

"I'm gonna go get her some jammies," you say, and then wince. "Pajamas."

"Jammies," he repeats. You hate how happy he looks.

A hot flush washes over you. "She's the only one I talk to."

Again, that awful softening of his features. He's got the biggest, brownest eyes you've ever seen. "Why don't you get changed, too? I'm gonna start drilling." He waves the drill and you don't like how loosely he holds it.

"Please don't ruin the door."

A wolfish smile. "No promises."

You leave all the doors open. Eddie's nice but you're not stupid – if he plans on kidnapping her or something evil this is the perfect time. Though, you suppose, he could’ve abducted her when he found her outside.

You shed your uniform and pull on a pair of loose fitting pants. You can't find a clean t-shirt, probably because you own a grand total of three, and you get distracted when the drill starts whirring and Junie screams.

You know in your heart that it's just a baby scream rather than a sign that she's in pain and you still can't let it lie, rushing down the hall. You can see her, see that she's uninjured, only looking at the drill.

She's excited.

"You like that?" Eddie asks her. "Is that funny?"

Junie claps her hands together and reaches for the drill.

Eddie frowns. "Sorry, you can't have it. I gotta finish the door for your mommy. Why don't you build me something with your bricks, yeah? Something big."

Junie reaches up for the drill again.

"I can't, Junie, it's too dangerous. Don't want you to get all mutilated." You wrinkle your nose at what he's saying. He turns the drill towards his chest and touches the drill bit to his collar. "Look, see this? It's not for little hands."

Junie steps over the case of things on the ground and leans against Eddie's legs, insistent.

Your mouth drops open as he starts the drill and puts on some fake anguished screams. "Ah! Oh my god, it's eating me!"

Junie starts laughing at his fake screaming. Her eyes widen, her hands clinging to a rip in his jeans.

"Think that's funny, do you? Heartless girl. Where's your juice gone, hmm?" He holds the drill behind his back and points to her bottle on the side of the couch where you'd left it. "You want that?"

He goes over her head to grab it and encourage it into her hands. "Yummy," he says, his eyes moving to where you stand in the door past the kitchen, eyebrows jumping up. "Everything okay?"

"Screaming," you say, awkward in your breathlessness.

Eddie's eyes stay resolutely on your face. "She's okay. The drill is exciting. You're shirtless, you know."

You spin on your heel and back into your room. Your heart a jack hammer, you sieve through clothes until a rumpled t-shirt that smells of deodorant but not sweat appears and shrug into it.

Junie has a much better selection of clothes. You pick out some matching pajamas for her and a thick pair of socks and tuck them under your arm with her changing matt.

When you return this time, Eddie's drilling a third and fourth hole into the wall next to the door and Junie's watching with the teat of her bottle in her mouth, chewing but not drinking. You lay her mat down on the floor and grab her with a big sigh.

"Alright, Junie, let's get you all fresh for bed."

You change her diaper and she doesn't misbehave too much, Eddie's general presence a distraction. Soon she's sitting in your lap, dressed in new pajamas and smelling of talcum powder and baby creams, her wool socks soft as you rub your thumbs into the instep of her feet.

You sit on the floor watching Eddie drill the screws into the deadbolt frame. Junie slouches against you, her head digging into your chest and her tired arms struggling to hold up her bottle. You hold it up for her, watching Eddie's hands and his arms, how they move. Muscle and ligament tense under the skin, tattoos warping, his bats propelled into flight.

"I like your tattoos," you say.

Eddie stops drilling to look over his shoulder. "What?"

"I- I like your tattoos."

He lights up. His back straightens out and he turns back to the lock, giving the last screw a final good twist. The door makes a groaning protest and then it's quiet. Just Muppet Babies, Junie's soft suckling and the compliment you'd given adrift in the room.

"They're pretty sweet," he allows. You can hear how pleased he is though he won't look at you.

"They're cool. Have you had them long?"

Eddie starts to tell you all about them, fiddling with something you can't see on the door.

Junie decides that she doesn't want to be sitting anymore and turns in your arms, hands coveting your neck. You lift her into your chest and rub circles in her back, the weight of her emptying bottle on your shoulder. Soon, her small arms go lax. There's a rush of air as her lips open from the teat and the bottle tumbles to the rug with a dull thud.

He pulls open the door. Cool air rushes in. He closes it, slides the deadlock into place, and then pulls hard to make sure it won’t come free.

It’s solid.

He laughs triumphantly and Junie stirs. You pat her back and make some quiet shushing sounds and Eddie turns around, a slip of his teeth on show as he grimaces.

"Sorry," he whispers.

You shake your head. "You're amazing. Thank you."

If his cheeks weren't pink they are now. He leans into it, hiding one cheek behind his hair. "Stop," he says, exaggerated.

"I'll make it good, I swear," you whisper, covering Junie's ear with your hand. "I'll make you the best dinner ever. I'm the best at Kraft's mac and cheese, or-" You flush hot, realising that mac and cheese might not be the treat you think it is to him. "Or we can order in," you say, doing the maths in your head. You can't afford it, but maybe Benny-

"Kraft's mac and cheese? You're spoiling me."

You beam.

Eddie cleans up the small mess he's made. You're afraid to move quite yet in case Junie's not really sleeping, though she's a dead weight in your arms, and you watch Eddie walk through the room with both caution and ease.

"Oh, you don't have to do that,” you say.

He folds the baby blanket in his hands and puts it back on the armrest of the couch before moving on to the stickle bricks, not looking at you as he says, "Just earning my wage, doll."

You can't watch him clean your home. You wrap a tight arm around Junie and rise to your feet. Eddie sees your approach and his movements grow faster, rushing to clean up the mess before you can stop him. You don't know who starts first but you're both laughing as you grab his wrist.

"Stop!" you whisper, mock-furious. "Stop cleaning."

"Sh, you'll wake the baby."

You shake your head in bemusement. "I'm gonna go set her down. Then mac and cheese."

"Take your time. Lots of things for me to clean up out here," he says with a mock sincerity.

You drift down the hall and turn back to sneak a glance at him. He's pulled Muppet Babies out of the TV and is rewinding it around his thumb, a small smile on his lips as he hums the theme tune to himself.

With Junie finally in bed for the night you take a quick peek at yourself in the mirror on your nightstand and cringe. You look tired. You give yourself a big smile and feel better; a smile makes even your most exhausted features look pretty.

You slap on some chapstick. You know, to counter your dry lips. It shines.

Slipping out of the bedroom, you close the door as quietly as you can manage.

Eddie's standing at the end of the hallway. You expect to feel scared. Instead, you’re perplexed.

"Hi?" you whisper.

"Can I use the bathroom?"

You laugh. "Yeah. Course you can."

You have to pass each other in the hallway. His hip bumps your hip, a short rub of fabric.

You're still thinking about it when he finds you behind the stove, half asleep with your face in your hand. It's the kind of tired where your eyes keep slipping shut, not aching so much as blurry with a heavy head.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, sitting down at your cramped table.

You hum. "Hm. Just tired." You give him a guilty smile as you tip the bigger portion into his bowl. "Sorry. Mac and cheese with bacon bits for you, my hero."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

The fatigue ebbs a little.

Eddie’s easy to talk to. He makes you laugh. When you say goodnight, he looks back over his shoulder twice.

It's a funny coincidence that Eddie sees you Friday night. He never grocery shops on a Friday but he knowd when his uncle gets home in the morning there won’t be anything for him to eat after his shift. He takes a sharp turn towards the TV dinners and there you are at the bottom of the aisle with Junie in the seat of the cart. You're talking to her like you'd talk to anyone, though you didn't sound so saccharine sweet over mac and cheese. Close, but not quite.

"What do you want?" you're asking. "Ham and pineapple or mini pepperoni?"

Junie holds her hands out for both boxes. You let her take them and the two of you puzzle over the pizzas, heads bent together.

"Pepperoni, right?" you ask her, quietly enough that he almost misses it.

"Peroni," Junie agrees. You let her keep the box and put the other one back in the freezer.

"Pepperoni," you correct, absentminded.

"Peroni."

"Pepper-roni." You sound it out slow, looking at a scrap of paper in your hand.

"Pepper."

"You'll get there. Do you think we need shampoo this week?" You start jovial, but quickly lose your sprightliness. "Maybe I can put some water in the bottle and just… shake it up. No, we definitely need it."

Eddie watches you look over the cart. He knows exactly what you're thinking, What can I put back?

"Hey!" he calls, walking a little faster to try and hide how he'd been listening.

You turn on the spot and smile as soon as you see him. Junie, to his delight, is even more excited.

"Hi," she says, hands thudding along the cart's handlebar.

"Hi, Junie. How's my favourite neighbour?"

She babbles.

"I'm psyched to hear it. How about you, sweetheart?" he asks, parking his cart next to yours.

You're looking very tired. Still in your work uniform with a hoodie thrown over the top and your smart flats swapped for a pair of converse with the laces undone. You pinch your cheeks up into a big smile. He guesses that with a baby you've gotten very used to hiding how you feel.

You don't hesitate to lay it down thickly. "I'm really good."

"Yeah? How's Junie liking daycare?"

You cover your hands with your sleeves. "She loves it. Loves napping again. She-" You frown. "She doesn't like the mornings. Dropping her off. But after." You nod with a tentative smile "Yeah, it's nice to pick her up."

"Uh-huh. How's work?"

"What?"

"How's work for you? How's Benny's?" he prods.

"You're asking me about work?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Nobody ever asks about work," you say.

You can't look at him as soon as you've said it, your eyes moving back to the grocery list in hand. It's an old envelope, and it crinkles under your squeezing fingers.

"Sorry," you mutter.

Eddie bites back a frown. "Well, I'm asking."

He holds out his hand for the list and you give it without thinking. He adores your handwriting the second he sees it, scanning the list for anything in this aisle.

"Hey, tell me about it," he prompts at your silence, pushing his cart. It takes you a millisecond to catch up, but when you do you're near frenetic.

"Well, I messed up like, five different orders today. And when I had Junie it was like they didn't care 'cos she's cute, but now she's not there they get pretty angry pretty quickly."

"She's like a magic item."

"Right," you say, sounding like you have no idea what he's talking about. "She was my lucky charm. 'N now when I mess up I gotta practically beg some of those guys to leave Benny alone. He's too nice to me already."

"Are they all terrible?"

"No, the regulars, guys in there everyday, they're all great. They're too generous. Benny's too generous. I know he's fluffing up my tip jar. I hate that. I don't want him-" You flinch. It's strange. Eddie takes a small step closer to you and waits for you to continue, but you've lost all steam. "Sorry, I don't mean to weigh you down with all of this."

"I asked. And I get it."

"I don't want him to feel sorry for me."

"Hey," he says, reaching out for a box of cereal on your list. He presents it to Junie and shakes it around, "who said anything about all that?"

"No, I know, I just-"

Junie smiles her approval and he chucks the cereal in your cart with a rattle of metal. "I'm not trying to make you feel worse, I swear. I get it. I- You said he's a nice guy, right? So maybe he doesn't feel sorry for you at all. Maybe he just likes you. He owns that place. I don't think it hurts him to put an extra twenty in your tips."

Junie reaches up. You turn to her and lean down until your face is a few inches from hers. "I wish I didn't need it," you say quietly.

"I know."

Junie puts her hand on your cheek.

You sniff, not crying or anything like that, only breathing. "Thanks, Junie," you murmur.

"Mommy," she says. She sounds a little concerned.

"Let's go get something yummy, baby." You stroke her face lightly. "I'm thinking canned peaches. Or pears, um. Fruit cocktail. And condensed milk," you add, sounding unsure.

"I got a can or two of that laying around," Eddie says, because he knows that shit is expensive. "Wayne hates sweet stuff."

"I couldn't-"

"You let me come over for one of those mini pizzas and I'll bring the dessert," he says, like he knows you'll say yes. He doesn't know. Eddie Munson’s an expert in pushing his luck.

Junie starts clapping her hands together.

"I think she's decided," you say.

You're terrible with a can opener. You whine to yourself as you struggle to get open the second can. Eddie had insisted on peaches and pears and fruit cocktail, because he wanted to try them all apparently. And then some dramatic speech about little kids getting spoiled.

You can hear him now in the living room with Junie. They're laughing in a way that you're worried about, that guilty, hushed giggling that raises your hackles.

"Shush," Eddie says, faux-angry, "your mom's gonna hear."

"Shush," she repeats with much more enthusiasm.

"You shush! Look, don't do that, Junie, you're gonna get it tangled in your hair," he says.

You carry the can and can opener with you into the living room. Something about tangled hair gets your heart racing.

"Eddie, please don't let her get stickies in her hair," you say quickly.

"They're called stickles," he says, dropping back onto his hands, head over his shoulder to give you a bright-eyed smile.

"I know what they're called. Junie can't say stickles."

"Stickles," she says.

"She couldn't when I got them," you amend.

He's up quicker than you can really take in, hands extended. "Let me do it," he says.

He works the can out of your fingers. It's more contact than you've had with somebody who wasn't your daughter in a very long time and it leaves you shell-shocked. Eyes on his nice hands, bigger than yours with thicker fingers and his riot of rings. He presses the can to his chest and hooks the opener, peeking between it and you intermittently.

"Go see what we made for you," he encourages. "I'll do it."

His arm brushes yours as he moves to the kitchen and that's worse than his fingers. You rub where he'd touched and drop down on your knees next to Junie, looking over the stickle bricks with a smile. It's a heart, poorly construed and of tens of colours. It falls apart when she tries to pick it up so you help her remake it, cooing.

"Thanks, baby. This is for me, huh? You're so sweet." Your voice drops to a murmur. "My sweet girl. Wanna cuddle?"

You open your arms out and she doesn't seem very interested. "Please?" you ask, vying for her waist.

She lets you pull her into your lap. When you actually start to hug her she does her lovely melting thing that she always does, a floppy fish in your arms but with tiny squeezing hands. You giggle at her antics and lift her up so her face falls into your neck.

"Thanks for my heart, Junebug." She snuggles her head into your neck, hair squished to your skin. "I love you," you whisper, rubbing her back.

"The works," Eddie announces grandly as he appears, two bowls in hand.

"Eddie, that's too much for her."

"She's a growing girl."

"A growing girl with a tiny tummy," you say turning her around in your arms. "Tell you what, you have that one," you point to the biggest one, "and we'll share that one."

"How about you share the big one?" he asks, though it hardly sounds like a question. He sits down and places the bowl in her lap.

You grab the spoon before she can and stir up some of the fruits. "Wow, look at this! You gonna say thanks? Thanks Eddie.”

She doesn’t say thanks — her mouth is too far open to form words. You make quick work of shovelling fruit and condensed milk inside, chilled enough that she shivers in your arms.

“Yeah, that’s good,” you say agreeably.

She gets enthusiastic enough to take the spoon and you let her, even when she totally mauls the food, eating so loudly that Muppet Babies becomes inaudible.

Eddie eats slowly. You can feel his gaze. “You’re not gonna have any?” he asks.

You’d felt it coming. Your answer is clumsy anyways. “No, I will. I just… I always have her leftovers,” you say, sheepish.

He stands up.

You’re gonna ask why when Junie tips fruit down your legs, cold on the naked skin of your ankle. You dab at your pajamas with a small sigh. There’s no point in getting upset. She’s a messy eater but they all are at this age. Honestly, it’s nice to see her attempting to use a spoon rather than her hands.

“You’re doing a good job,” you say. You’re not totally sure who you’re talking to.

“Tada!” Eddie cheers, wielding a third bowl of fruit. “Swap with me?”

“What?”

“You think Junie’ll come sit in my lap?” he asks. He doesn’t wait, really. He holds out the bowl and you take it on impulse as he sits down heavily.

He takes her into his lap with a cheerful groan. “Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. There’s enough milk on your chin to bake a cake.” He wipes it with his hand. He doesn’t so much as wince at the mess.

You stare. He eases the spoon out of her grip and scrapes up a half-spoonful of what looks like pear and feeds it to her with the same kind of deftness of hand that’d taken you months to learn.

He can feel your gaze, evidently, because he looks up. There, you catch it, that slither of insecurity he hides well.

You pick up your bowl and start eating. It’s the nicest thing you’ve eaten in almost two years. You’d die for Junie. You’d do worse. But to eat, to know she’s fed — gorged — to know you can sit here and eat this whole bowl of fruit all to yourself and you won’t have to put it down, that’s heaven. It’s better, because you never let yourself have anything nice if you can help it.

The fruit turns to a lump in your throat and you swallow it, sniffling. Your lashes grow heavy with unshed tears and you keep your gaze resolutely on your dessert. When was the last time you had something this nice all to yourself? When was the last time somebody ever went out of their way to be this nice?

It’s a small gesture and a huge one. A tear dribbles down your cheek. You lick it away and keep on eating.

Eddie starts to come around every Friday. It’s a good deal; you make dinner and he makes dessert. After that first time he makes it his mission to give you heaping bowls too much to eat most of the time. Soon, he’s coming a few days a week, not always long, sometimes until the late hours, though you tell him desserts are a Friday only occasion. He complies grudgingly.

You make your first friend in years, and it’s so sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Or what possesses you to offer to cut his hair.

Eddie's sitting on the couch with Junie, his big thigh to her little one and a picture book spread between them whilst you clean the kitchen. He's not reading to her – she's trying to read to him. She can't read, of course, but she can remember some of the words in relation to the pictures. She pokes at the blue cat and says blue. She pokes at the blue dog and says blue. She also points at the red cat and says blue. It's a learning curve.

Eddie gives corrections and encouragements just as you would. You smile at him from behind your cup of water.

"He's red, sweetheart," he murmurs, arm around her shoulder to hold the book's edges. "Red cat."

"Red cat," she repeats with enough accuracy to make you choke on your water.

Eddie gasps almost as loud as you do. "Right! Red cat! You're so smart, junebug, I can't believe it," he praises, squeezing her shoulder. His gaze meets yours and he smiles.

You send him back your sweetest smile. If he wasn't always so nice to you you'd like him anyway because of how he treats Junie, like she's the fucking sun.

She gets so excited when other people are happy that she starts laughing, standing up and trampling all over his legs to give him a hug. She's given him half hugs, she's fallen asleep by his side and loves to pet his hair, but this is a proper, tactile hug. Her arms wind around his neck with purpose and as soon as his surprise has faded he brings his arms up to hug her in turn, laughing delightedly.

"You're such a smarty-pants," he praises, rubbing her back with a boyish brashness.

She squeals as he squeezes her, his fingers digging into her ribs. Never cruel, only tickling her. She eats up every second of it and buries her face in his neck, laughing her wound up baby laugh that always brings a smile to your face.

"Ooh, she's so smart. First blue, then red. Next you'll be saying indigo, and vermillion, and-"

He cuts off when Junie gets one of her nails caught in his hair. She jolts and whines like it hurts and he goes rigid. You move forward to play mediator but he's already pulling her away gently and making small shushing sounds. "Chill out," he chides lightly, "I got it. Here." He pulls the hair from under her fingernail and rubs the pad of his thumb over her hand. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he apologises, pouting at her scowl. He envelops her hand in his and waves it around. "Forgive me?"

She doesn't learn her lesson, pushing her hands back into his hair, probably less kind than what’s ideal. Eddie doesn't flinch.

You sit on the armrest gingerly. "Can I ask you something?"

Eddie looks over Junie’s head. "What's that?"

"Have you always had long hair?"

He doesn't balk. "No, of course not. I fu-" He clears his throat. "My mom was the best, and I fit in just like everybody else growing up. When I ended up with Wayne I was-" He smiles. It's the kind of rueful grimace that says, You didn't ask for this.

You smile encouragingly.

He drops his gaze to Junie, worming his arms around her in a loose hug as she continues to play with his hair. "I was mad about everything, and I remember him asking when I wanted to get my hair trimmed and I said ‘never’. Took a few years for it to grow past the awkward stage," he bares his teeth and nods toward his shoulder, as if allowing his past misdemeanour. "But now I'd say it looks pretty sweet."

"I love your hair," you say.

Eddie beams. "You don't think it's too long?"

Emboldened by his reaction, you slip off of the armrest to sit next to him, turning in until your knees touch. Junie, loyal as she is, climbs straight into your lap with a babble.

You pat her back with one hand and raise the other cautiously for permission. Eddie flares his eyes wide, as if to say, You want to? Go on.

You take a lock of his hair between your fingers like Junie had moments before. "I like it like this."

"But?"

You look at the ends, an inch of limpness where the rest curls. "You haven't had it cut since you were a kid?"

"Maybe not that long, but it's been a while. I do it myself sometimes." He gestures to his bangs. He speaks quietly. A rarity though not unknown for him to be so hushed.

You tuck the curl you'd been examining behind his ear carefully.

"Do you think my hair looks good?" you ask.

"Sh- Sorry, of course I do. I swear I was gonna-"

You shake your head, laughing. "Not like that. What I mean is, I cut my own hair. I cut Junie's, too, and I could do yours if you wanted me to."

He goes quiet.

"Only if you wanted. I know it's a lot of trust, so-"

"Would you do it now?"

You hold Junie's head away from yours to prevent a loving headbut. "Right now?"

"I'm in dire need."

He throws his big brown puppy dog eyes your way and you couldn't say no if you wanted to.

You explain how he needs to get it wet first and how the shower head in the bathroom doesn't detach. "It's, like, built into the wall."

"I could go home, come back?" he suggests.

"I can do it over the sink?"

Eddie can't remember the last time somebody washed his hair for him. He knows there must've been a time, some place in his life where his mom or dad had done it for him. He thinks that, if he'd asked, Wayne would've tried it once or twice growing up, but now Eddie's most definitely at the age where having his hair washed is a foreign luxury.

And it does feel luxurious.

It shouldn't; the sink basin is very small as they tend to be in the trailer kitchenettes – small sink, small stove, small small small – and Eddie has to crane his neck. Already the space between his shoulder blades aches from being bent over, and he can't breathe well, smothered by steam.

But your hands. One shields his eyes from run off, a gesture unnecessary and far from lost on him, while the other massages shampoo into his scalp. He'd been surprised when you started because you hadn't mentioned washing his hair, and he'd said, "You don't have to do that."

You'd hummed. "Well, it's kind of a waste not to."

That was that.

Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and if his eyes weren't already closed they would've fluttered shut. He nibbles his lip and tries very hard not to show outwardly how nice it feels. Your left upper arm rubs against his back as you scrub at his roots, your right soaking wet beside his face, covering his eyes uselessly. He doesn't mention it. All this touching, he doesn't want it to end.

Your proximity honest-to-God sets him on fire. Your body pressed to his is a flame over his ribs.

"Maybe we shouldn't cut it at all," you say, stroking wet bangs away from his forehead. "It's soooo long."

"Can’t do it?" he teases.

"Keep your eyes closed, okay? I'm gonna rinse."

It's a comforting process. You dip your cup into the water. It fills with a wet glug, the rim shushing against the basin's bottom. You hold it over his head and pour carefully, heat caressing his scalp as the soap is washed away.

It's over too soon. You grab the towel you'd procured and tuck it around his shoulders, wringing all the excess water from his curls back into the sink. You encourage his head up wordlessly and he stands there, arms useless against the countertops edge, water sloughing down his face as you press the ends flat between your hands.

You lift his head and push his hair back with your hands, raking your fingers through it and laughing as soon as his face appears. "Eddie! I'm sorry, you're totally drowning."

He chuckles. They fade away as you pinch the corner of the towel and start to dab his face dry, dragging the rough material over his cheeks with an expression he can't read on your pretty features. Almost pensive, not quite.

"There," you say under your breath. "Saved you."

"My hero."

You smile at him softly before spinning on your heel. "I gotta find the hairbrush. And the good scissors." You look into the living room quickly and then turn to the hall leading to your bedroom.

Eddie looks into the living room too. Junie's not upto much, only watching TV, unusually subdued. He doesn't disturb her despite the itch to go over and play.

One of the muppets starts laughing about something and she laughs too.

"What are you smiling about?" you whisper from behind him.

"Nothing," he says quickly.

You raise your eyebrows. "She has a nice laugh, right? Doesn't matter how bad I feel, she laughs and everything's okay for a little while."

He feels a fond stab in his chest. "Her laugh's like yours."

"I guess we do sound the same."

You do, but it's not really what he'd meant.

The metal sound of scissors snapping. You wield them at him faux-threateningly and shepherd him into a chair you've dragged to the middle of the kitchen.

Eddie fights goosebumps as you pull a brush through his hair, loses when you take a lock at the front between two fingers and stop about an inch and a half from the end.

"I'm gonna do that much, okay?"

You're a quiet hairdresser. Eddie doesn't care, he can talk for Indiana, but there's something so sweetly simple about the quietude, just your hands in his hair, the snipping of your scissors and Junie's occasional excited chattering. You start to hum a song Eddie doesn't recognise about halfway through. It's melancholy. He doubts you realise what you're doing.

You draw silent as you round to the front. Eddie watches your hands work for what feels like hours. You have really pretty hands, not perfect, burnt fingertips and neat little nails. They smell like honey hand soap.

You pull two locks from the front together to make sure they're the same length. His curls will hide any discrepancy, he knows from experience, but he doesn't want to tell you that. Selfishly, he wants that extra time with you this close.

You work your way between his legs to comb his half-dried bangs. Eddie looks up at you with wide eyes.

"You want me to trim these, too?" you ask quietly.

"If you please."

You huff a laugh through your nose and start to trim his bangs carefully. He closes his eyes, and maybe it's the fact that he can't see you that gives him the confidence to reach out for your hip, a touch that can't be defined as amicable. He curls his fingers into the soft material of your shirt and feels the heat of your skin underneath.

You draw closer, as close as you can be.

"What made you decide on bangs?" you ask.

"Zits, mostly."

He can feel your laugh under his hand.

"I used to… I used to powder my face," you confide, a murmur, "like, an inch thick to try and hide everything. Being pregnant makes you so-" You pause to snip some hair, comb it away. It tickles his face. "Well, it makes you spotty. Or it made me spotty. It actually made me really sick."

"That's must've sucked," he says earnestly.

"It- Yeah. I guess it did. I don't know."

He hadn't meant to bring up something unhappy, but he's hungry to know. "Were you on your own?"

"Mostly."

"What was the worst part?"

"Being scared all the time."

He'd been expecting morning sickness or aching feet. "You were scared?"

"I honestly thought I was gonna die, Eddie."

He opens his eyes and leans back in his chair, hand flexing over your hip, as he tries to tamp down his surprise.

"It was," you mess with his bangs with the tip of your ring finger, "hard. I felt sick all the time, and when I didn't I would make myself sick worrying about her. What if I eat something or I catch something and it hurts her? What if- what if it all works out perfectly and then I can't look after her?"

"Did it work out perfect?"

You rub your lips together. "Uh, I guess so. It took a long time, and it hurt," you sound especially unhappy with that part.

He strokes up your waist, wanting to soothe the small crease between your eyebrows. "By yourself?"

"Yeah, by myself."

"I'm sorry."

You tuck his hair behind his ear and grin at him. "Now what are you sorry for?" Your hand lingers near his cheek. Slowly, you turn it, pressing the knuckle of your index finger into the skin under his eye and rubbing a small line. He worries he’s in love with you right then and there. "Not like you're the one who knocked me up."

You drop your hand and Eddie really doesn't want you to go anywhere, his grip kind but steadfast, bringing the other arm behind your back in a loose hug. "Who was it?"

"Just some guy. Nobody. Nobody worth thinking about."

"How old were you?" he asks.

"Why are you asking me all this stuff?"

"I wanna know about you."

You bring your hands to the towel around his neck and pull on it mildly. "I was sixteen. Seventeen when I had her."

He drags his fingertips up and down the small of your back lightly, almost like he's playing guitar. "I'm sorry you were all by yourself. That young. When I was sixteen I was still watching The Bugs Bunny Show."

You giggle and your hands move up to the side of his neck. He can hardly breathe, afraid to dispel whatever enchantment it is that he's under.

"Could be worse, huh? I'm nineteen and I still watch Muppet Babies," you joke.

"Why wouldn't you? It's the pinnacle of modern television."

"Yeah?"

Your beaming smile hits him straight in the chest. He thinks about how beautiful you look and can't stop, hiding his face in your stomach to stop from saying something stupid, laughing loud. You laugh in tandem, hugging the back of his head until your giggles peter out.

A small hand on his arm. You both turn at the same time and find a very unhappy Junie.

"What?" you ask her. Then, teasing, "Are you jealous?"

You lean down to pick her up. Eddie's gutted to lose your touch and then quickly exuberant when Junie ducks out of your arms to grab at his legs.

"Oh my god, yes," he says, holding out his hands.

Junie tries to take them and he slips them under his arm, pulling her onto his thigh with a big sigh. The sigh is half the fun, a theatrical reluctance when really he's always happy to have her climbing on him.

As soon as she's in his lap she's pleased, turning her head so she can watch the TV across the room.

You roll your eyes at his smug smile. "Shut up. She just wants what other people have."

"And you had me?"

"Shut up, Munson, seriously," you say. You don't sound half as mad as you're trying to.

Eddie takes a drying curl between his fingers and pokes at the side of Junie's face. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," he says, grinning when your daughter starts to squirm on his thigh.

He grins at her and tickles her until she's curling in with her chin dropped to her chest, smiling despite herself.

His fondness colours every word as he croons, "I got you."

Junie sounds about as outraged as a toddler can be when he tickles her nose and then drags the tip of the freshly trimmed curl under her eye. He draws a big circle around one of her cheeks until it's kissing her chin. She dissolves into giggles while squirming to get away from him and so he stops, only for her to blink and tug at his wrist.

He tickles her until she's screaming.

You pause on your knees where you'd been sweeping up his trimmed hair to look up at her and he's struck with guilt. "Y/N, you don't have to do that. I'll do it."

"No, you're okay."

Eddie finds his gaze drawn to your thighs, spread out as they are in your kneeling position, and then stolen by Junie as she almost topples off of his lap.

"I think…" he begins quietly, speaking to Junie though it's just as much for you, "that your mom deserves something nice for my haircut. What do you think?"

"I don't think that," you say.

"Wasn't asking you," he says seriously. Back in baby mode he continues, "What's mommy like, huh? What's her favourite thing in the whole world, besides you?"

"Sleep," you say.

"Well, I can't help you there."

"You help me there all the time. Junie sleeps like a log every Friday."

"Food coma," he says knowledgeably.

"You really don't have to get me anything, Eddie. My services were administered charitably."

He pushes his hands behind Junie's back and pulls her to his chest before standing. When he has her secure in one arm he pulls the chair back to your small table and tucks it in.

"Get up," he says to you. "I'll do it, alright? Swap with me."

You ignore him until he starts kicking you in the leg. "You're ridiculous!"

"You're ridiculous. Seriously, get up. You're not a serf." He returns your glare. "I'm a big boy, I can clean up after myself."

"It's my house."

"If you don't let me-"

"Christ! Okay." You drop the dustpan and brush sullenly, wiping your hands together as you stand before taking Junie out of his arms. "I'll make dinner."

"No you won't! I'm gonna order takeout," he says factually, already on his knees and sweeping.

"No you're not."

"I am. Me and June already talked about it. She's craving Marino's pizza."

"I'm not gonna let you use the phone."

"I'll walk to my place and order the pizza to here."

"Eddie-"

"Why are you being a hardass?" he asks.

"Fine! God, clean up your gross hair and order your stupid pizza. You're making me crazy," you say, collapsing onto the sofa with a little oomf, Junie's weight hitting you hard in the chest. She moves into a sitting position and pulls your shirt up, hands moving across the space under your chest.

Eddie throws himself into cleaning all the mess you'd made for him, the hair and the towel and the sopping wet draining board. He washes the dirty baby bowl on the side and fills up one of Junie's bottles with water, then a glass for you. He hasn't seen either of you drinking a thing since he's been here, likely his fault for distracting you.

He's about to call for pizza when he peers past the cabinets and sees you dozing on the couch. He decides pizza can wait until tomorrow; it's later than he realised.

Junie's halfway across the room with Mr. Bear playing make believe. She talks and talks and talks, gibberish to him but what's likely an unending, complicated storyline, no doubt.

Eddie approaches with the bottle already outstretched. "Junie," he says, and when she doesn't answer, "Junebug. Junie. Junie." Each iteration of her name softer and sweeter than the first, hoping to entice her in.

He holds the bottle in front of her face.

She finally looks up with a pout.

"For you," he says, offering the water.

She seems mildly interested as she takes it, turning back to her teddy and talking around the teat like it's not there.

You're struggling to keep your eyes open. Eddie gives the room a quick once over before kneeling down in front of you, tugging your shirt down to cover your exposed tummy as he says, "I should head home."

You blink at him and turn onto your side, cheek squishing into the couch cushion.

"Okay? Why don't you and Junebug head to bed?" he asks, using a tone not far from what he'd use with your daughter.

"You know, her full name's Juniper," you whisper.

He didn't know. "Really? I love that."

You wrinkle your nose, sounding very tired as you continue, "But someone told me it sounded like a name for a cat. So I've called her Junie ever since."

"It doesn't sound like a cat's name," he placates. "It's beautiful. You chose well."

"Yeah?"

Eddie smiles at you fondly, eyes tracing down your nose to your lips, shiny with balm. He tilts his head to the side to mimic yours. He could kiss you.

"Sounds like the name of an elf. Juniper Lightfoot, or… Goldwind. She could even be a mage. Juniper the Brave."

"Juniper the Loveliest," you say, and then grin. "Juniper the Hungriest."

"Juniper the All Great and Hungriest," Eddie says decidedly.

"Would you make her a hero, in your game?" you ask.

"Of course I would. She wouldn't even need to divide, she'd just conquer."

"What about me?"

"What, would you be a hero?"

You nod. He doesn't know why, but he thinks his answer is going to hold a lot of weight with you.

"You would be," he starts quietly, words painted slowly as he raises a hand to rest on your wrist, pinky finger spread over the hill of your thumb, "a fighter. With insight and survival."

"I don't know what that means," you say.

He leans in. "It means yes, you'd be a hero. You'd save kingdoms. Slay dragons." He squeezes your wrist.

"I think I better leave all that stuff for Junie. I'll just cheer you guys on from the sidelines."

"You're her mom, she can't do it without you. And even if she could I bet she wouldn't want to. Where's all the fun in guts and glory if you can't share it?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

Your eyes shut. Eddie doesn't know if it's from fatigue or a want to end this conversation. He feels marginally embarrassed for descending into nerd metaphor with you, but he thinks it's the kind of thing you needed to hear. He thinks if Junie could understand how often her mom prioritises her and misses out for her she'd want to fix that. Eddie doesn't know you half as well as she does and it breaks his heart sometimes to watch you insist on a smaller portion, to watch you put things back at the grocery store because she wants a box of milk duds, even to watch you wear yourself out ironing baby clothes in the only pair of pajamas you own.

"Make sure you lock the deadbolt behind me," he says carefully. You hum. He gives your wrist one last squeeze.

Junie looks tired in that she's getting agitated, whimpering under her breath. Eddie ducks down to give her upper arm a good rub. "Why don't you go cuddle with your mom?" he asks her, turning her by the shoulder so that you're in her eye-line. "Go have a lie down."

He doesn't know whether what he says makes any difference but you extend your arms out and Junie walks towards you, big staggered steps that make him laugh to himself as he pushes into his unlaced converse.

"Don't forget to lock up," he says in place of a farewell.

"Goodnight, Eddie," you say.

He waves. You're both too tired to wave back.

He's surprised to find his Uncle Wayne still home when he gets in, shoving into his work boots with a grunted hello.

"Hey."

"Did you cut your hair?" Wayne asks, perplexed, a little gruff.

"Junie's mom did it for me."

"'Junie's mom,'" Wayne quotes dryly, slugging his bag over his shoulder. He's heard all about Junie's mom.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck and splutters when a big hand claps his back, a demonstration of Wayne's pity as he passes through the open door.

Eddie spins to watch him jog down the steps. "We're friends," Eddie calls.

"Don't be dumb," his uncle says without turning back.

"I'm not exactly known for being smart," Eddie says to himself, cheeks heated by a furious blush.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

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

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

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dateko · 7 months

Text

a/n: another rando drabble... twas hiding amidst the dust in my drafts... i will never get to see the four of these silly geese happy ever again and they only exist in my google docs where nothing bad ever happens to them...

“Sensei, what is Sensei to you?” Yuuji asks suddenly, causing Gojo to stop in his tracks.

“Huh? Me?”

This time, Nobara groans. “No, you blindfolded idiot! That Sensei!”

Gojo follows his young student’s gaze as she tilts her chin towards the field where the second-years are training.

There, standing beside the ever-adorable Panda, is you. You watch with a proud smile on your face as the second years spar with one another, calling out praises along with death threats coming from Maki. It doesn’t take long for you to notice the first years and their slender mentor watching you from the steps. Your lips fight to bite down a smile as you throw out a wave, watching Satoru lift his mask to wink at you.

“See! See! Like that!” Nobara starts again excitedly, pointing at her teacher. “What is that woman to you?”

“Eh?” Gojo raises an eyebrow before lowering his mask. “She’s… A close friend of mine.”

“Sensei, you’re being secretive.” Yuuji offers him a skeptical look, to which Nobara nods along with adamantly. “Fushiguro, what do you think?”

Megumi glances at your figure with a dragging sigh before walking in front of his classmates. “If you ask me, she’s the one.”

Thing 1 and Thing 2 erupt with rowdy exclamations, practically bouncing off their teacher. Megumi continues to walk with a somewhat satisfied expression. The boy’s known you his entire life. Especially how much you mean to his blue-eyed benefactor.

“B-but how do you know she’s really the one?” Yuuji asks this time, fully invested in his teacher’s love life.

Gojo shrugs nonchalantly. “I have good eyes, you know.”

“Well, now I just feel sorry for her. She has to deal with you every day!” Nobara deflates immediately, unsure of how to feel knowing someone she respects is romantically affiliated with her headache-inducing instructor.

“Hey! It’s a blessing to deal with me!”

A pair of footsteps sneak up behind the group. “Deal with who?”

With a hand on your hip, you stop to tilt your head at the pairs of wide eyes looking at you. Even beneath his mask, you can tell Satoru looks more than guilty.

“Something on my face?” You pat a hand on your cheek, wondering why no one’s said anything to you.

Nobara breaks the silence by walking up to you with her head down, a downcast expression on her face. “Sensei… I’m so sorry for you…”

Confused and admittedly very concerned, you shoot Gojo a look before patting Nobara’s head reassuringly. And your lover holds a sheepish expression as he holds his hands clasped behind his back, an old habit he used to do when he knew he was in the wrong.

“Alright, I might as well just say it,” Gojo starts, fixing the collar of his jacket. “I told them about us.”

Your eye widen at his words, lips sputtering for a normal response. “You told them we’re married?”

“Wait, married?! Meeting each other with good feelings is one thing, but married… Sensei, I thought you were better than this…" Nobara shakes her head dramatically before walking off, flashing you a disapproving look before dragging Yuuji along with her.

You watch the younger student walk off with a confused brow before returning to face your lover, who is grinning wildly at you. He's clearly over feeling guilty about exposing your little secret. Your questionable silence comes to Gojo as a queue to pull you into a loving embrace, a quiet apology for blowing your cover.

Without skipping a beat, you return the hug, giving up on trying to scold him. You squeak when Gojo rocks the two of you back and forth, pressing never-ending kisses on your jaw. “Just an FYI, Megumi was the one who told them.” He mutters, nose pressing itself into the crook of your neck.

You gasp, holding his face while you step back to look at him. “He wouldn’t do such a thing!”

“He said that you were the one.”

“Isn’t that what you said?”

“Shut up.”

You let out a giggle, a sound Gojo could listen to for hours on repeat. “You used to be so corny when we dated. Still now.”

“I don't think I could ever stop being corny. Only when it comes to you.”

#ignore this actually i just wanted to get rid of all the shet accumulating in my drafts #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you

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forlorn-crows · 2 months

Note

How's about kiss #19 with mountrain? ♡

#19 . . . for luck

“This is new for many of us. Including myself. But let’s give them a fucking good show, eh?”

Copia finishes his speech by sticking his fist in the middle of the circle. Each of the ghouls taps his gloved knuckles with their own, a silent gesture of solidarity. Copia smiles, clapping his hands together. “Let’s do it!”

Mountain glances over at Rain, head hanging low and peaked shoulders of his jacket drooping forward.

“Hey—” Mountain taps Rain’s arm gently with the tips of his drumsticks as they break away from the group huddle. “You’re gonna do great, tadpole,” he stage whispers.

The water ghoul takes his bass from a nearby tech and slings it over his shoulder, fingers immediately fiddling with the picks tucked under the pickguard. Miming out tabs with the other. Mountain can’t see the way his eyebrows furrow behind the mask, forcing himself to focus despite the first show jitters.

“Nervous,” Rain huffs after a handful of seconds. “What if they don’t like me?”

Mountain shakes his head. “I know they’ll love you.” He pulls down his balaclava so he can see his sly smile. “Plus, you look good in the outfit. Who’d be mad at that?”

Rain rolls his eyes, but a sliver of his bottom lip shows over his own covering as he bites back a smile. He nods. The grin fades when he glances past the wings at the stage, though, bathed in only the ultraviolet hue of the working lights. Eerily empty, jagged at the corners.

“Tadpole.” Rain jumps a little at the earth ghoul’s voice, shaken out of his daze. Mountain’s arm loops around his waist, and he knocks their fake horns together sweetly. “You’ll be by me, remember? I’ve got you.”

The water ghoul looks at him, glamoured baby blue eyes looking back at him with fondness and promise. “Okay,” he mouths more than speaks.

Mountain smiles then. “C’mere.” He pulls at Rain’s balaclava, tugging him closer and pulling it off his mouth at the same time. When their lips meet, he sinks into it, melting into the warm hand cradling his jaw. Gripping onto Mountain’s shirtsleeve like he might lose him if he doesn’t.

The kiss is tender, but brief. A moment of calm in the sudden whirlwind of bodies around them. Rain doesn’t want it to end, but he knows it has to.

“For luck,” Mountain says when he pulls away. He rights Rain’s balaclava, and then his own.

As if on queue, the droning synth of Ashes rumbles through the sound system, reverberating through the butterflies in his chest and sending a zing of anticipation down his spine. There’s a flurry of movement as everyone migrates to places, mumbles of directions to sound and lighting, microphones being checked and double checked by black-sneakered techs. Less than forty seconds to go. Dew silently squeezes past them and takes his place downstage left, head bowing low with arms tucked behind his back. Cumulus squeezes both their shoulders as she passes, bouncing on the balls of her little heels, giddy and ready to go.

And yet beside him, Mountain is still and unbothered, much like his namesake. Tenured into his role and his routines.

As soon as the children's nursery rhyme begins to echo across the auditorium, the earth ghoul grabs his hand. Tips his head towards the stairs upstage right and starts to move.

“Come along, darling. Let’s show them what you’ve got.”

#happy mountain monday!!!#ask #miasma #send me a number and i'll write a kiss #ficlet #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #mountain ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain x rain #rain x mountain #mountain/rain #rain/mountain #no more kissies for rain tho mountain is in SeriousTM mode now

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ehh-is-the-name · 2 months

Text

TPOT 10 spoilers 'cause BH makes me insane

I mean, c'mon. You can't see this thumbnail and think things are gonna be ok for you mentally if you like blackhole. Like you know what's coming to you.

First things first, let me just scream into the void for a second-

HIS NIGHTMARE IS KILLING PEOPLE AND LETTING THAT CONSUME HIM?????!!?!?

AAAAAAAAAGUH MY HEART??!!???!?

Man- I love Blackhole and this episode just drove the stake into my heart. The fact that he, himself, is a being who causes death by getting too close to people made me writhe in BFB. But actively showing the extent of how it affects him—ack! He knows he causes death, which is why it's so important for him not to kill people, and why he's so strict about the pact rules!!

It makes so much sense... BFB 1 had it all laid out, and TPOT 10 sewed it together.

From the way he was hesitant about helping Flower!!! We know- he knows he's gonna end the world by getting closer, but he gives into it anyway. Instead of putting his foot down to Flower, he gives in to his feeling of wanting to be closer to people—from the way he's so happy about being shrunk—and more later. Then we get that whole thing with everyone about to die.

We know if Four never came, everyone would've died. Blackhole knows that too, from the end of his nightmare. More specific to this clip though, from the scene with Pie and LIY, since he literally just gave in to the urge to get closer and he wants that to never happen again. As a singularity in space, he could appreciate the planet, and life on it, more than other objects. He could see them all interact but never actually interact with them (besides talking), so at this chance of being beckoned, it makes sense that he'd just go "eh, fuck it, alright" then IMMEDIATELY regret his actions. Although his nightmare was about being afraid he'll "give into murderous urges", it can also be interpreted as him being afraid to let go. Something clearly stated in the last scene of his nightmare...

Queue TPOT 10 scene from clip above (I'm so mad that it's only 1 video per post on here)

Over the season we've seen him go from preventing death to just not killing people. It's morphed into his own cut-throat rule for the pact, which, in this context, is fair to see why. He joined the game via him not caring about the consequences, and it's stuck with him, so seeing everyone over and over get away with things made him HAVE to re-enforce to himself that he wasn't allowed. Death PACT doesn't kill people. HE doesn't kill people. He can't allow himself to let go of that regiment.

Obviously, this causes problems in the team- we see the clip. The thing that gets me the most is that this is bona fide trauma we're working with—Fanny telling him to #get-over-it kinda rubbed me the wrong way. And OK! I know- I know that's not exactly what she's saying but that's how it felt, and I know she has every right to be upset 'cause he was fuckin' over his team, but again that's just me! (The fact they got on the same page was enough for me anyway.) I digress, his "obsessive nature" was essentially just a response to everything that's happened to him—it's what makes him feel in control of himself. Poor BH's got trauma bad :(

I think what really twists that knife for me is that... the guy really just wants to connect with his peers normally- He wants everything to go back to normal, and that's one of the reasons he compromises with Fanny. On some level, he knows he's gone too far, but he's just afraid. Even at the end, he can't bring himself to kill Tree, even though he knows it'd be better with the new "focusing on life" angle. Did you hear that shakey exhale? Man's going through the wringer. Obviously, he won't overcome his trauma in an episode, but it's a good step to just playing and enjoying the game.

Anyway... There is probably a shitton of fans that are looking at this like "Yeah no shit Sherlock" but hey! Be nice. Some of us are slower than the others, and by some of us, I mean me. I needed this punch in the face to really see how death was impacting Blackhole's mental state and now I've word vomited my thoughts out.

#I should've done my hw instead of this but can you blame me??#I haven't gone off about him here before- but trust me. I've had thoughts on this #tpot 10 spoilers #tpot #bfb #tpot black hole #bfb black hole #character analysis #osc #long post #ehh exaggerates

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moral-terpitude · 2 years

Note

hi I love your work so much !! and I wanted to know if I could request (not sure if I’m doing this right since I’m not all too familiar with tumblr) a Thomas Shelby imagine where y/n cut ties with her family long before she meet tommy, married him, had kids, etc ya kno her happy ending and they track her down to arrow house like “ya there’s probably a maid here that goes by y/n were just gonna be taking her with us” and tommy goes all protective husband mode like “no she’s the lady of this house and MY wife” thank you and luv u

Oh sweet Anon! Thank you so much! It makes me happy to hear it. I’ve jumped the queue a bit to do this cause I was particularly in the mood for it today!

November.

The morning was cold as you donned your coat and made your way to your husbands office before heading in to town.

You knocked, but entered without waiting for a response, opening drawers and searching for a pen while he finished a phone call.

“Where are you off to?” He asked as he returned the phone to the receiver, fingers creeping under your wool coat to warm your lower back, although it seemed to be you warming him with how cold his hands were.

“I’ve a doctor appointment and I figured while I was in town I would finish gathering presents for the kids and pay the charge account at Lewis’ and the grocer.”

“I know two of the things on that list Frances said she would take care of, eh?”

You smiled as his hands roamed your stomach. Under the right dress no one could tell yet, but you were roughly four months along with the fifth child between the two of you. All together a household of eight, caring for Tommy’s first child like your own. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I need to get out. I can’t stay held up here for nine months, love.” You bent to kiss his cheek and offered the pen to him, and he signed the three checks without much more of a question about how you’d be spending the day.

He had teased you for your frugality, but you could tell he secretly enjoyed the way you planned, picking up presents for under the tree throughout the year made it easier to wrap and hide them, although Frances was usually your accomplice in that regard.

Stopping by Lewis’s after the doctor, there was a new girl working at the counter that, due to your unfortunately short patience with the cold and lack of bladder retention, was frustrating you.

“What did you say the name was on the account, ma’am?”

“Shelby.”

Footsteps echoed all around you as she looked through the stack of papers, pulling four folders, as you spied the one with your name.

“It’s that one.” You spoke, pointing at the one she held in her hand.

“Ma’am, the name on the check doesn’t match the name on the account.”

“Well the account is under my name, that’s why.”

She sighed, “Just give me a moment.”

She retreated in to the room behind the counter, emerging moments later after many hushed whispers with a concerned looking Betty, who usually took care of the transaction for you.

“I’m sorry ma’am.”

“It’s no trouble.” You reassured her.

“This is Mr. Shelby’s wife,” she whispered, “He doesn’t approve the charges on the account, which is why it isn’t in his name.”

The younger girl nodded, taking in the information.

Betty winked as she took the check and gave you the yellow copy of the receipt, marking it paid, as you departed with the two bags.

By the time you returned home, you were nothing short of exhausted. Mary entertained the smaller children upstairs, finally getting them to settle for a nap before helping you wrap the presents and put them with the others deep in the darkest part of the pantry.

Opting to spend the time before dinner resting, Tommy read the newspaper in the armchair at your feet while you drifted in and out of sleep.

You only woke when Frances spoke, “Mr. Shelby, I believe there’s a misunderstanding. There’s a man at the front door, but I told him I’d retrieve you to speak with him instead.”

He nodded, donning the holster he had shed before you took your nap, as uninvited guests to Arrow House weren’t a regular occurrence.

A minute or so later, you pulled on your sweater, trailing him to find out what was going on.

“I’m telling you,” the familiarity in the voice wasn’t lost on you after all these years, “your maid, the one that was at Lewis’ this morning, is my daughter! They were giving her problems paying the charge account. My other daughter was there and overheard part of the conversation. I’ve come to get her. She needs to come home.”

Tommy chuckled, your name leaving his lips, not calling to you, but reiterating it to your father who now you could see stood before him furious at how close you had been, but still out of his grasp for the last, what, 15 years. The fact your father thought he could force a grown woman to come home was almost amusing.

The posture your husband wore wasn’t unfamiliar at this point. His shoulders were squared, and you felt like a child peeking around the door and into the hallway at fighting parents.

Your husband was ready to fight over you.

You figured it would happen someday, but 15 years gone from home? It almost felt foolish.

“Your daughter isn’t me maid. She never has been,” he shook his head as he cleared his throat and lit a cigarette, before pulling the gun from the holster, it resting at his side, not yet with the intention to use it. “She’s the Lady of this house though, and she has been me wife for the last 10 years.”

Your father stared at him blankly, but you could see the tension wash over him. You could see the thought, that truly there was no way you had married up in class, residing here happily without another thought for your family.

“And if you don’t leave before she sees you,” he cocked the gun, still at his side, “from the stories I’ve heard of you, I have no problem putting a bullet through your head and having your body burned out by the river or thrown in the cut.”

You knew those words hadn’t been for your ears. He didn’t know you were watching and so he spoke freely. You slowly crept back down the hall, and once in the sitting room, made a mad dash for the Chesterfield. Frances came through the door as you shed your slippers and nestled back under the blanket.

“I was napping.” You told her sarcastically, her knowing smile as she set down the tea conveying an air of, of course Mrs. Shelby, as far as I know you’ve never moved from under that blanket, as you knicked one of the biscuits the girls baked earlier in the day.

Tommy sighed, the noise preceding his footsteps, and as he came through the door removed the holster and retuned it to the back of the chair in the sitting room as he took back over his paper.

“Who was it?” You feigned ignorance, and even if he didn’t, he chose to believe you.

He shrugged, “Just some delusional man, love. I think he was drunk. Lost,” he lied, his nose crinkling just so was his tell, but you’d never admit it. And he lied so well otherwise, but right now you’d say that you loved him for it, “but I gave him directions.”

A contented hmm left your lips with a shrug as you added sugar to the tea and continued on living your happy life.

#ava’s asks #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x yn #tommy shelby x reader

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in-a-mountain-pool · 11 months

Text

Supermassive Black Hole Ch3

Ettore x Reader

pronouns: She/her (afab)

rating: Explicit/18+

warnings: NSFW/minors DNI, mutual masturbation, smut, mentions of violence

word count: ~5500

summary: A cosmic event brings Ettore and Y/N closer together, and it’s only a matter of time before the two collide.

A/N: This was a whopper of a chapter! I’ve not written smut in ages so I found writing this a bit of a challenge! I hope the wait was worth it... Beautiful space theme borders by saradika. As always, comments, likes and reblogs aren’t needed, but always lovely to come online to!

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Masterlist

In the days that followed, Monte had hardly even looked at Y/N. Every mealtime the canteen would be bustling with the crew and inmates, but suddenly Monte was a no show.

It was their evening mealtime, and Ettore was standing in the queue watching her over his shoulder as she sat there alone. He’d watched her do the same thing for three days now, sitting there with a plate ready for Monte, and beside her an empty chair.

The arsehole was avoiding her like a soppy schoolkid.

Even to him it seemed unnecessarily cold. The concentrated way that she’d bite at her plush bottom lip, the way she tapped her foot nervously against the linoleum floor almost made him angry for her. Since her last run in with Monte she’d taken to sitting alone in the rec room with a cheap pair of headphones in her ears listening to music, which were now slung loose around her neck.

Without Monte, it seemed her existence was to be a lonely one.

This was it. This was the perfect chance for him to make a move, ingratiate himself to her and reel her in. It had become more than just about fucking her. More than anything Ettore wanted her to choose him over Monte.

He wanted her to want him just as much as he had craved her attentions.

And when it did inevitably happen, he wanted her to beg and scrape for him just as much as she did for Monte. But he would make sure she got what she deserved and more, whether she wanted it or not.

Yet, in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think about how much it upset him to see her so lonely like that. She was nice. She was truly sweet. She didn’t seem to belong in a place like this. She didn’t seem that well equipped to deal with the sort of people here either.

The sort of person he was.

He’d wanted to take advantage of her. Afterall, it wouldn’t be that hard. Her innocence only made him want her more and more. But could he really go through with it when the time came? Could he force someone like her when push came to shove?

He was shaken from his reverie when a tray was shoved into his hands, almost spilling the cup of processed water all over his front. Before his mind could keep up with his body, he was already making his way over to her table, taking a seat in the chair opposite Y/N.

“This seat taken?” He smirked, gesturing at the tray she’d brought for Monte, laying cold and untouched. When she shrugs and avoids his gaze, he can’t help but prod.

“A simple yes or no would have been enough, princess.”

He haphazardly chucks his tray onto the table and skims is his eyes over her. “Got a bra on today, I see? Shame. I’d gotten used to seeing those tits of yours.”

When she almost drops her cutlery and scowls up at him, he raises his hands up in a mock surrender and giggles with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Am jokin’, am jokin’. Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.” With a sly grin he winks at her and digs into his meal, talking with his mouth full.

“So, what’s his name is a no-show again eh’?”

She eyes him warily sighing as she starts to drink the water she’d brought for Monte.

“… No. ‘What’s his name’ is avoiding me like the plague. You’d honestly think I’d killed someone or something.”

Now this was something he was very intrigued by. He used to like to guess exactly what it was that each inmate had done, but to him she was a blank slate. He raises an eyebrow at this and quirks his lips upwards with a teasing lilt to his voice, “Well, did you?”

Y/N gives him a lopsided smile and shakes her head, refusing to say a word and shoving the extra tray towards him playfully.

God she was a mystery to him.

“Eat up. It’ll only go to waste if you don’t. So… Why you are you sat here with me today?”

Her voice drops to a nervous whisper as she leans over the table slightly, pretending to hand him the salt. “You’re not gonna try to blackmail me for breaking the rules with Monte, are you?”

His blue eyes flash to hers intensely for a moment before he shoots her a smug smile, pursing his lips and sucking his teeth as he rakes his eyes over her.

“Now why would I do that? We said it would be our secret, didn’t we? And I never break a promise. Especially not when there’s a pretty girl on the line.”

He starts to wolf down Monte’s dinner with a wide grin on his face, manners long forgotten. “Nah… I just wanted to check in, make sure that you weren’t losing your mind over that loser.”

She sips her water and eyes him over the rim of the plastic cup before she replies with a small cheeky, and not all too convincing smile. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m a big girl trust me.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I’ve always thought he was a jumped-up twat, and you deserve better.”

He decides to make small talk as he chews on a rather dry piece of bread, and points to her headphones with an impish look in his eyes. “Wotcha listening to? Let me guess, some Taylor Swift tunes about how much you hate your boyfriend and how he’s ruined your life?”

She doesn’t take the bait, and just shakes her head softly. When she silently takes an earphone and offers it out to him he’s taken aback by her openness. Her fingers brush against his palm for only a moment and he can hardly ignore the sharp, warm feeling inside his chest.

He hadn’t been touched by anyone in weeks, except for in acts of violence, but here she was, gentle and unassuming, being kind to him of all people.

Ettore lifts the headphone to his ear and can only smirk, his eyes wide with surprise when he hears the music playing.

“Oh… classical music, is it? So, you’re one of those rich snobby girls then?”

She shakes her head in disbelief and bites her lip smiling at him. “I’m hardly a posh girl, and definitely not rich. It’s just- nice and calming to listen to in a place like this…” She trails off for a moment before her eyes flash with a look of mischief. “I’m terribly sorry to ruin whatever weird fantasy of me you have rolling around that head of yours.”

With a cheeky laugh he passes the headphone back to her with the same gentleness she’d shown him earlier, resting it back around her neck, his finger catching on a lock of her hair as he does so.

It was nice to touch her. Even nicer to be touched by her.

Ettore coughs awkwardly and licks his lip trying to recover himself. “So… I can’t imagine you as a Catholic school girl, then? With one of those little, short skirts and the knee-high socks, anymore? You’re breaking my heart, Y/N.”

The sweet sound she makes as she laughs does something to him, and for a moment all he can picture is her smile and the way she gazed at Monte that morning just a week before in the canteen.

But this time it was him who’d made her laugh.

This time she was here, eating dinner with him.

Y/N shakes her head at him in disapproval, a bashful look on her face as she picks up their trays and makes ready to leave. “You need to get your head checked out, Ettore.”

Don’t go yet, he thinks to himself.

“I bet you were clever though.” The words leave his mouth before he can even process his thoughts.

He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to make this last longer, if only for a minute.

“I bet you were a real nerd at school. I’d probably have stolen your lunch money, wouldn’t I?”

That sound again.

She lets out a small giggle, shaking her head at him as she walks away from him, walking backwards so she can face him. “Again, not posh enough for that!”

And just like that, she was gone again.

Ettore exhaled deeply looked down at the empty space in front of him intensely, tapping his finger on the side of the steel table, as he other gripped the side so hard his knuckles turned white.

Why was he being so fucking needy?

He tries to shake the stupid grin off his face for just being near her. He tries to ignore that feeling in his gut, that deep immense feeling of want as she touched his hand.

Why on earth was he making jokes about Catholic school girls and Taylor Swift!?

Just how long could he wait until he just he just took her?

Why the fuck hadn’t he already?!

He didn’t give a shit about Monte, and he wasn’t scared of him, not by a long shot. He was going to have to take her tonight. No more games of cat and mouse. He was the predator, and she was the prey.

And that was that.

But then his agitated movements stopped altogether at once, his breath catching in his throat and his chest tightening almost painfully as his eyes flickered down, the light catching something on his arm… for there on the sleeve of his sweater was a strand of her hair.

And all he can think of is the content of her smile.

The night that follows was a restless one, and not only for thoughts of her.

He’d lain for hours staring at the ceiling twirling the lock of her hair gently between his fingers and agonising over her before he’d finally been able to fall asleep.

But not for long.

*BEEP BEEP BEEP*

The stark blue lighting of ship flickered on and off intermittently, leaving the corridors veiled in darkness before the sound of a shrill alarm startled him awake suddenly. The guards stormed into their cell block ordering them loudly to line up outside their rooms.

Tcherney and Monte were already outside by the time Ettore had stumbled out of his cell. With no time to grab a shirt or shoes, he’d slumped against the wall with only his grey sweatpants slung low on his slim hips. He squinted his eyes at the harsh blue lights in the corridor as Dr Dibs walked hurriedly towards their block to address them.

There had been a rare and shifting phenomenon. The black hole they were orbiting, or the ‘corona’, as she had called it, was emitting X-ray flares. The X-rays released had disrupted the ships generators, meaning conservation of power was of the utmost importance to ensure their experiments could continue. Only half of the ship could be powered for the foreseeable future, meaning the men’s cell block was to be shut down, and the male inmates were to temporarily share with the women.

They filed out towards the women’s cell block, the guards tired and pushing them forward impatiently as Dr Dibs assigned the rooms out loud, struggling to be heard over the piercing sound of the alarms. Boyse was to share with Tcherney, Dr Dibs would take Monte to the labs to assist with monitoring their life support systems, and, to his utter delight, Y/N would bunk with him.

Ettore couldn’t help but lock eyes with Monte at hearing this. He was, in a word, seething, his hand curling into a tight fist at his side and his nostrils flaring as he glared right back at him.

That’s right prick, she’s mine.

A sneering grin painted Ettore’s face. He childishly wiggled his eyebrows at him suggestively as he strolled into Y/N’s cell, accidentally shoulder checking Monte on his way past.

And there she was.

But then his smirk faltered when he finally saw her.

Y/N was laying down on her side upon the bottom bunk, curled up into a little ball. She looked so small and fragile, draped in an oversized shirt (her own this time), with a skimpy pair of shorts peeking out from beneath.

That chestnut brown hair of hers was fanned out on the pillow beneath her, making that now all too familiar ache in his chest return once again as he tried to compose himself. When she speaks, her green eyes search his nervously, her soft voice almost impossible to make out against the alarms.

“Should we be worried…? Are we going to be safe? Dibs- she said they were closing off half of the ship to keep up the life support systems... Has this happened before?”

She was frightened.

A wave of protectiveness hits him as he tentatively sits on the side of her bunk, watching her like a hawk as if he was afraid one false movement would scare her off completely.

His voice comes out hoarse and intense, and for a moment he’s worried that she’ll be afraid of him.

She should be afraid of him.

“… Don’t worry, this shit happens all of the time. The ship is an old heap of junk. Trust me, I’ve seen it all and this… this is fine. We’ll be fine.”

Y/N gazes up at him wide eyed with a look of pure trust, and once again he’s struck with a deep agonising pang of guilt in his chest.

He was a monster.

He was a monster for even thinking about wanting to hurt her, for wanting to force her when she was such a sweet and delicate thing.

She trusted him. He’d ruin her. And he knew it.

The alarms finally stop and a deep quiet fills the cell block as the inmates start to fall asleep. She doesn’t say anything to him, just nods slowly and her eyes flicker down to the bed as she turns over to face the wall.

Ettore is on autopilot when he climbs onto the top bunk, laying there so close to her and yet so far away that he can hardly breath. He lies back with his forearm covering his face and his eyes screwed shut, trying more than anything to focus on sleeping.

All he can see is her, her body, her eyes.

The conflict inside his head is almost as loud as the alarms before, his thoughts echoing loudly in his ears as he tossed and turned. He could have been there for seconds, minutes, hours, he wasn’t sure.

All he felt was the need to be with her.

The deep want to know her better than Monte ever could.

The desire to have her and the perverted thoughts he’d wanted to act upon now that he was alone with her.

But all of this was silenced when she finally speaks again.

“Th-…Thank you. For being nice to me… You cheered me up today. You even made me laugh.”

His eyes flicker open in surprise, as he sits up absorbing her words and nervously biting the inside of his cheek.

There was a mirror opposite them at the end of the bunk bed, and in the dark blue light of the room he could just about make out her form.

And there she was, doing exactly the same as him, sat cross-legged and staring up at his reflection pensively, nervously picking at the nail bed of her thumb.

“… You… you don’t really talk to anyone here. Except me. Why? And… answer honestly, be serious for once.”

Ettore wasn’t sure if it was the fact he was so sleep deprived, so crazed with desire for her, or if it was some side effect of the cosmic event outside, but the words just seemed to flow out of him on their own.

There was no room for hesitation. Not now.

“Well… I talk to you… because I like the way you make me feel. I like… how innocent you are. How soft you look... You’re not like the rest of us. Not like me, anyway.”

And there, just there…. There was something in the way Y/N looked at him in the reflection in front of him that convinced him. He’d felt it every time they’d spoken. He’d seen it in the way her eyes would meet his as they passed by each other outside the box. He seen the way her gaze had lingered on his toned body when he’d entered the room.

She was attracted to him.

Her cheeks were flushed and her lips pouted. It was undeniable.

Her eyes fluttered downwards when his blue eyes flashed to her body, taking in her slim long legs and the delicate trace of her collarbones peeking out from beneath the low collar of her shirt.

In her silence he decides to continue, his voice thick and hoarse, trying hard to think straight as he watches her drinking in the sight of his bare chest once again in the low light of the room, heaving as it feels like all the air in the room has disappeared.

“… Because you're beautiful. Because I think I could make you happy… I could make you feel things you've never felt before. You would never need to ask me.”

He couldn’t help himself as he poured out his want for her all at once, listening to her gasp quietly at his shameless confession.

He watched transfixed as she licked her lip nervously, her doe eyes flitting from his body to the sheet beneath her over and over, thoughts racing through her mind.

“We won’t get this chance again. Just one night. No strings. I can make you forget about him. I promise.” He whispers, his voice gravelly and deep.

Her small voice comes out broken and shy against the darkness of the room. “Dibs… she said we couldn’t touch each other… and there’s Monte… and-” He cuts her off in desperation.

“Look… If you don't want me to touch you, I won't… But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy tonight. I can still keep you warm, help you relax. Just let me.”

Ettore’s toned torso shone in the blue light of the room, and he could feel her watching as his hand brushed down against the soft blonde hair that spread below his navel.

His icy blue eyes are fixed onto hers in the mirror, as ever so slowly he reaches down to caress the growing outline of his length in his trousers, his head lolling back a little as he continues to stare at her.

“No one has to know. It’s… just like using the box.” Ettore lets out a soft sigh when he sees her hand stroke softly up her thigh, all wide eyed and flushed.

“We’re not breaking any rules… you’re not cheating on Monte. Let’s use each other… Let me make you feel good.”

When her hand reaches the edge of her shorts the deep exhale that leaves his mouth is almost embarrassing as he starts to plead with her, his hand now gripping himself through his sweats, the bulge there impossible for her to ignore any longer.

“… Touch yourself for me. That's what you want, isn't it? To feel good? To feel wanted?”

Ettore shifts himself closer to the edge of the bunk and dropping forward onto his knees to see her more clearly beneath him in the mirror’s reflection. A devilish smile appears on his face when he takes in the sheen of sweat shining on her body already.

She wanted this.

“You'd like it, wouldn't you? For me to tell you what to do… you love the sound of my voice, don’t you?”

He lets his hand slip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, he hadn’t bothered to wear any underwear. His cock is impossibly hard and weeping as he grips it tightly at the base, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he can gather the courage to continue.

“Take off your shorts for me.”

He can hardly believe his eyes when she disappears from view for a second, shifting on the bunk bed to pull down her shorts, leaving her in a small pair of black standard issue panties.

“Good girl... Now, move closer to the edge of the bunk so I can see you.”

Y/N slides forward to the edge of the bed, leaning on her knees wantonly and gazing up at him with that gorgeous mouth of hers hanging open softly. His breath catches in his throat at the sight of her, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as a soft groan escapes his throat. The black fabric of her panties was soaked, the crotch shining with slick even in the low light of the cell.

“Fucking hell, Y/N. You’re so wet and I haven’t even touched you…” He hisses, his voice drops lower still, a jealous flash covering his eyes. “Tell me, has Monte ever got you this soaked?”

He tries desperately to ignore the pang in his chest when she doesn’t reply, pushing it to the back of his mind as he gazes slack jawed at the wet spot forming at her covered centre.

Ettore sucks his teeth and tuts at her shaking his head. “I wish you would let me touch you.”

His eyes search hers shyly as he finally reaches his hands down and pulls off his grey sweatpants to ease the tension there, his flushed cock springing free from their confines.

Ettore spits into his palm, wincing as his long fingers wrap around the base of his stiff length, working their way upwards and stroking his thumb over his swollen pink head. Her eyes were fixed on him pleasuring himself, rubbing his thick and leaking cock up and down slowly.

Ettore chuckled darkly at the way she bit her lip hard enough to bleed as she leered at him.

He knew he was big.

“I shouldn’t have to waste any of my spit when your pussy is wet enough for the both of us…” Blue eyes stare intensely into hers as his tongue flicks out to lick his lips suggestively. “…but I’ll play along for you.”

A faint smile ghosts across her face as she leans forwards to look at his reflection even closer.

Oh god, she was enjoying it. She fucking wanted this. She wanted him.

“Do you like what you see, gorgeous? It’s all for you. Only you.” He croons, his eyes hooded now, as his fist gently pumps his hard cock teasingly. “Pull them down for me sweetheart, and spread your legs wider… I need to see you.”

And she did.

Without a single word, without a single thought, Y/N pulled down her panties, placed her feet down on the bed and spread her thighs wider, leaning back as she revealed herself to him completely.

And she was perfect.

She was beautiful.

“Oh shit, you really are wet… and all shaved and neat for me too?” Ettore’s body shudders, his shoulder slumping forwards as he places his free hand down onto the hard mattress to lean closer to the mirror, stroking his cock to the sight of her dripping cunt.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy… and for what? Monte isn’t even using you… Such a waste.”

He swallows harshly as his fingers traces the underside of his cock, pressing down on the thick vein running along his length. “Now… suck your fingers for me. Get them nice and wet.”

He squeezes the base of his cock with a stuttered groan as she hollows her rosy cheeks, her pink lips framing her fingers prettily as she takes them knuckle deep into her mouth.

“If I was allowed to touch you, I wouldn’t use my hand… but for now, I just want you to just circle your clit. And when you do... I need you to watch me.”

He sees her, and the reflection in her eyes tells him exactly what she’s thinking. Ettore leans even closer to the mirror watching her hesitate.

“Are you afraid of me, Y/N, or are you afraid of what you might like?” He growls.

“I won’t tell, I promise. We both know we need this... So please… play with yourself for me.”

When her small fingers finally slide from her soft thigh to her swollen folds it’s hard for him not to whimper out loud, a half-sob spilling from her throat at the sensation. And just like he’d asked, her sweet face remained fixed onto the sight of him.

“Shh... be quiet, or we’ll get caught.” He gravels out.

His eyes dart between his heavy length in his hand and her fingers sinking into her heat to swipe slick over her throbbing clit in tight circles, soft mewling noises coaxed from her heart shaped lips.

The harsh blue lighting makes the head of his cock shine as he covers himself with a mix of his own spit and precum, gazing down at her glistening core in the reflection of the mirror.

The sloppy sound of her finger now pumping into her wet cunt is almost obscene, echoing in the room and sending a wave of heat straight down to the base of his spine. His voice comes out more desperate than he’d planned it to… he’d never felt this way about anyone.

“… Do you like this? Does it make you feel good seeing how hard you make me?”

“Ah… I… fuck, it does, Ettore. It feels amazing.” Her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment as she lets of a soft high-pitched whine, covering her mouth and face hastily with her spare hand like she was ashamed by how wanting she was.

Ettore grunts and shakes slightly as he fists himself tightly, struggling to get his words out clearly.

“You know why that is, baby girl? Because you know I’ll take care of you. I know what you need. You might be a good girl out there… but this here, this is the real you. And it’s so fucking beautiful.”

She whimpers again as she fucks herself with her finger, throwing her head back in pleasure as he praises her. He sinks his hand down to cup his balls softly, pinching the soft skin of his ball sack and rolling it between his index finger and thumb, his hard dick on show for her and bobbing in front of the mirror.

His jaw hangs open slightly, his tight abs contracting and relaxing as he works himself, matching the pace at which she pumps her finger into her pulsing heat. “God I wish you’d let me fuck you.”

“Every night I go to the box I think about you, Y/N. Did you know that? God you’ve been so needy this week, like bitch in heat haven’t you?” Ettore groans out raggedly, gripping at his cock.

She’s only able to respond with a pathetic nod of her head, her words failing her at his blatant admission.

“I know… I know, baby girl… You want more don’t you? But it was you who said I couldn’t touch you.” He snickers teasingly as a thought comes to him.

“Get your pillow and put it under your ass for me.”

When she does this he can see her juices dripping down her inner thighs to soak the white fabric underneath her. She’s splayed out for him even better now, her slick pooling into the tight puckered hole beneath her pussy in a way that has him completely transfixed.

The noises in the darkened room are lewd and wet as he fists his cock faster now. Grunts and whimpers fill the air as she adds another finger, sloppily pumping her them into her core, the new angle helping her reach that sensitive patch inside herself, making her mewl pathetically.

“Do you always think about Monte in the box? Or have you ever thought about me? Please… tell me you’ve thought about this cock….”

She let out a desperate whine and screws up her face as the truth spills out of her. “I did… I do… I- I saw you.” She pants out, her hand reaching up underneath her shirt to paw at her tits desperately.

“I saw you in the corridor that day… I knew what you were doing… I’ve thought about it. Thought about you.”

Everything stops for a moment, his movement falters, his breath hitches, and his eyes focus only on her face.

She knew. She’d seen. And she’d carried on like nothing had even happened.

The makes something in him snap and he has to stop for a moment, his hands shaking and his cheeks flushing a deep pink as he desperately tries to hold off his climax.

“F-Fuck, Y/N. I knew it. Oh… you’re such a fucking good girl… Why didn’t you tell Monte?

The way he growls and pants only urges her on further, she can’t even form the words she’s so drunk on the feeling of him, the pleasure, his jealously, the feeling of him wanting her.

“Answer me. Why didn’t you tell him?”

She whimpers yet again and quickens her pace, and he can’t help but laugh out loud bitterly.

She’d been protecting him. She was just as perverted as him. She’d liked it.

“You can’t even say it… Oh… you love my attention don’t you? You want someone to notice you… Naughty girl. Monte’s just a boy and you need a real man don’t you?”

She nods pathetically in the reflection of the mirror, her cheeks pink and her expression wanton and shameless.

“Why don’t you give Daddy your panties and I’ll let you finish?”

Wordlessly she shakily passes her soaked panties to him from the bottom bunk, his fingers brushing her wet fingers and gathering some of the slick coating them. He brings them to his face, visibly shaking when he inhales her scent before sinking his fingers and her juices into his mouth.

“Oh shittt… you taste sweet. Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever tasted…”

He grabs his own pillow now, shoving it inbetween his legs. He wanted to finish with her and the thought of touching his cock with his slick covered fingers was just too much to handle.

Ettore hips begin to rock slowly, dragging his length over the fabric as he begins to hump against the soft pillow. His hands rest tightly on his hips as his chest begins to rise and fall jaggedly, watching her eyes squeeze shut in pleasure, her thighs shaking now.

“Oh, you poor girl… you need to cum don’t you? I can see it in your eyes… Tell me.”

“I need- Ah- I need to cum. The box… it’s not enough… I need to cum, I need…”

He continues to rut against the mattress, his cock swollen red as he takes his other hand down to twist and squeeze his balls. He rubs his nose into the crotch of her panties, breathing in her scent and panting pathetically.

Ettore grunts a little angrily now and lets out a low bitter laugh.

“You need to cum… what, baby girl?”

He smirks and snarls a little, licking at her panties crotch and locking eyes with her in the mirror when she finally says the words he’d dreamed of hearing.

“I need to cum…. Daddy.”

With her confession, everything starts to lose control and their movements become more frenzied, Ettore rutting so eagerly against the pillow that the whole bed frame starts to squeak, and he finds he can barely hold on anymore.

“Fuck! Show me your tits and make yourself come. Pinch them, fuck yourself… I can’t hold on much longer…”

She drags her shirt up to her neck revealing her heaving breasts, they’re moving now she’s pumping into herself so hard and fast. When she pinches her nipples her jaw hangs open, her eyes screw shut… and then she’s there.

With a soft high-pitched whine, she’s climaxing hard, squirting onto the pillow and biting her lip so hard she breaks the soft skin.

He doesn’t give her much time to recover, and quickly lays on his side on the top bunk, rapidly fisting his pink flushed cock.

“Y/N, get up, open your mouth and take what I’m gonna give you.”

Doing as she’s told, she shakily jumps up to face the bunk, gripping the frame tightly to steady herself. Her sweet, blushed face is level with his cock as she opens her mouth to him, tongue out and waiting. Within a few seconds he leans forward and spills onto her tongue with a deep guttural moan, coating her lips and chin with hot ropes of his cum.

And just like that the moment is over. He slumps down laying on his back panting, gazing down at her as she wordlessly swallows his spend and licks her lips to clean up the rest.

He couldn’t believe she’d actually done it.

…Had she really wanted this?

Should he kiss her? Would she even want him to?

He can barely think straight, his forearm coming up to cover his face as he lays there catching his breath, sweat cooling on his skin. When he finally opens his eyes again she’s already gone, laying down on the bottom bunk and dressing hastily.

Fuck. He should say something. Say anything.

“… Thanks.” He swallows and stutters awkwardly, staring up at the ceiling. “Did you… you did… finish didn’t you?”

Her voice comes out small and shy again, she’s retreated further back now under the bunk that he can no longer see her in the mirror, and something about this makes his stomach lurch.

“I did, yeah. Uhm… Thanks.”

Silence.

Not another word was exchanged between the of them for the rest of the night.

He’d thought about this for days, how he’d take her, how he’d force her, how he might hurt her, but there and then, in that very moment… he hadn’t been able to bring himself to lay a single finger on her.

He’d planned to make her his.

But somehow, laying there spent and exhausted in the dark, Ettore felt like it was her who had branded him.

Taglist: @qyburnsghost , @babyblue711 Please comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist! :3

#Ettore #ettore x reader #Ewan Mitchell #high life #ettore smut #ettore x you #fics by me #Supermassive Black Hole

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thatjadedhotmess · 1 year

Text

can't get enough of you.

pairings/characters: dottore x gn!reader, arlecchino x gn!reader

warnings⚠️: none that I know of but please let me know if I should add anything ! :)

synopsis: why they literally refuse to leave you

wc: 0.8k++

note: pure brainrot for arlecchino I'm such a simp for her arghh <333 likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated

dottore (多托雷)

☁︎︎ dottore simply cannot get enough of you because you let him study you (humanely).

☁︎︎ he's never had someone willingly offer themselves to him because of how they view him. But then you come into his life

☁︎︎ you guys met at the Akademia as students. There were already rumours spreading around campus about his unethical experiments but you pretty much just ignored them and continued hanging out with him.

☁︎︎ when he got expelled from the Akademia, you ended up leaving with him for obvious reasons. But now that he didn't have the resources he used to have at his disposal when he was at the Akademia, he couldn't conduct his experiments. Thus you ended up volunteering to be his subject zero.

☁︎︎ he's very appreciative of the fact that you've allowed him a chance to study you and takes extra precautions around you. Asking if you're ok, giving you pain medicine if you were in any sort of pain after his experiments, making something light for you to eat after to make sure you're healthy

☁︎︎ he just has a soft spot for you:(( like even after joining the Fatui, he absolutely adores you and usually lets you experiment on… test subjects with him instead of him experimenting on you. (it rarely happens anymore and you guys just laugh about it when either of you guys get a deja vu)

☁︎︎ other Fatui members are usually afraid of him because they’ve seen what he’s done and always end up going through you because you're so much nicer than him.

☁︎︎ he does get possessive of you though. He doesn't like the fact that you aren't spending all of your time with him but understands because he knows that you are out taking notes for him since he doesn't want to socialise

☁︎︎ he can't deny the fact that every time he sees you his heart races and a small smile will stretch across his face (even the thought of you has him all giggly)

☁︎︎ bonus point: only you have the power to scold him and it terrifies the others when they see it because are you actually that powerful and have enough power to scold the second most powerful Fatui harbinger? Yes, yes you are.

arlecchino (阿蕾奇诺)

☁︎︎ your basically the light to her existence and she always looks forward to seeing you because you bring light to her dark world.

☁︎︎ you and her met when you had gone to work at her orphanage and something clicked within her when she laid eyes on you, almost as if she knew you were meant to be hers.

☁︎︎ you don't work there anymore because you quite literally have a harbinger worshipping you and there's no need for working (:ehe:) but you do occasionally go back to the orphanage to play with the children there.

☁︎︎ cue arlecchino blushing really hard whenever she sees you surrounded by children because the sight is so wholesome and pure and she's about to have a nosebleed-

☁︎︎ you've got her to play with the little children whenever you go with her to visit the children and she swears the children get intimidated by her when really they're just curious but too shy to approach her.

☁︎︎ there was an occasion when the both of you played with the little ones for (practically) an entire day and then putting them to bed because theyre spent and you just fell asleep beside one of the kids and arlecchino saw it and brought a blanket over for you; she fell asleep by your side shortly after.

☁︎︎ little does she know though that you can't get enough of her either.

☁︎︎ you're pretty sure she doesn't realise this but she’s so affectionate; everywhere. Like, you'll get little head pats at the most random timings (there was once when she did it in front of the children at the orphanage and they all saw it and started to queue up in front of her because they wanted some too but she was so confused because she was just doing some work beside you as you played with the kids and petted your head subconsciously)

☁︎︎ and imagine having icy cold hands because of the snezhnayan weather and she just goes “your hands are cold, let me hold them” like super smoothly like it’s a normal thing (she’s oblivious) and of course you say yes but now your cheeks are pink because does she actually not realise how flustered you are??

☁︎︎ and when she's asleep?? Throughout the night, she will slowly gravitate towards you until you (or her) wakes up in the morning to find your limbs all tangled up and she's bear hugging you as she sleeps soundly.

#dottore #genshin dottore #dottore x reader #dottore x y/n #dottore x you #il dottore #il dottore x reader #arlecchino #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino x y/n #genshin arlecchino #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #dottore fluff #arlecchino fluff #genshin impact headcanons #sage🍂 scribbles

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chaosbarelycontained · 5 days

Text

You Know I Think I Recognise Your Face

North Country Boy Chapter 2

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x AFAB!OC

TW: swearing, angst, awkward teenagers (yeah, I know)

Words: 2.1k

Synopsis: Jules meets some of her new team mates and lets the Lt know where her boundaries lie.

Captain Price awkwardly cleared his throat, shaking Jules from her frozen state. With a pointed look at his Lieutenant, Price then addressed his new Sergeant.

“Drop your kit in your room and join us for tea, eh? Don’t let it get cold.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied.

Moving to follow him out of the briefing room she felt a hand wrap around her wrist.

“Ju…” Riley began, his voice quiet and low.

Her eyes glanced down to where his hand rested on her and then they were back on his face. She stared him down coldly without even a hint of expression until he released his grip and then she made her way out of the briefing room without a single backward glance, stooping to grab her kit bag as she passed.

Standing before the door to Room 3B, Jules stared at the handle and the card scanner above it. Price hadn’t given her the key-card. In the absence of any other option, she slid the card for her old room from the pocket of her pants and tapped it against the scanner, which chirped and flashed green. Jules smirked a little at the Captain’s deviousness and pushed down the handle.

The room was as nondescript as any other billet she’d bunked in over the years. She lay her kit bag down on the foot of the perfectly-straight covers and made a perfunctory scan around the space. There was a small window above the head of the bed, the sky beyond already beginning to take on the dusky hue of twilight, and a closed door to the left. Opening it, Jules was relieved to find a sink, toilet, and shower. The usual single wardrobe, chest of drawers, and bedside table completed the ensemble and she gave a small hum of satisfaction before making her way back downstairs to the mess.

Following the clamour of voices and the clatter of cutlery against china, Jules quickly located the mess again after Price’s rapid tour earlier. She pushed open the door and was hit by a wall of noise and smells of food from the kitchens. Casting her eye about she did a recce of the room and quickly surmised the order of things. Grabbing a tray from the stack by the wall she joined the queue at the hatch and then had her plate filled with a hearty beef stew and dumplings. Nodding her thanks to the server she found an empty seat at the end of one of the tables, filled a glass with water from the jug in the middle, and then settled in to eat her tea.

She’d barely managed two mouthfuls before her elbow was jostled by someone taking the seat to her left whilst another sat in front of her. She acknowledged both of them with a small nod and then went back to eating her food. When the expected conversation openers didn’t arrive she looked up to see both soldiers staring at her, broad grins on their faces. Swallowing awkwardly Jules offered them a strained smile in return but they said nothing and just carried on staring.

“Hi?” she said in bemusement.

“Hey,” one responded, whilst the other gave a “hullo”.

“Can I…help you?”

“Just comin’ ta gi’ ye a welcome,” the guy to her left said, his words thick with a Scottish accent.

“Thanks,” she replied, forking up another mouthful of stew.

“So you’re the spook from The Duke’s?” the other asked in reference to her affiliations with the Lancs and the SRR.

“That’s me.”

“Proper chatterbox aren’t ye?” the first teased, leaning his cheek on his hand.

Jules remembered him from the briefing now, one of the guys who’d heckled the Captain. MacTavish, he’d called him.

“MacTavish, right?” she asked.

“Aye!” He grinned, his eyes lighting up when she recalled his name. “That’s me. This is Gaz,” he added nodding at the fella opposite, who saluted goodnaturedly.

“Jules,” she offered, taking a gulp of her water as she mentally tried to match the names she’d been given to the list of 141 members that had been on Price’s data drive.

“Get an offer ye couldn’t refuse?” MacTavish pushed.

“I’m sorry?”

“The Captain there, gave ye an offer? Dug ye oot of a hole?”

Jules eyed him suspiciously and he held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Don’ worry yeself, I’m no prying. Ye don’ have te say.”

“Let’s just say I had a problem with some orders, yeah?” Jules smirked, raising her glass again.

“Amen to that,” Gaz agreed, holding out his fist which Jules bumped with her own.

“Gaz…that’s Garrick, right?” she asked, which he confirmed with a nod. “You’re from the Duke’s too, yeah?”

Gaz opened his mouth to respond but his words stalled as he glanced over Jules’ shoulder towards the door. Raising his chin in greeting at whoever had entered, he then turned his attention back to her.

“Yeah, I did my time at Kimberley, so did the Lt, actually. Hey Ghost!” he called across the room. “The newbie’s one of ours.”

Jules stiffened in her chair at the mention of the Lieutenant’s name. She saw MacTavish beckoning him over and held her breath, trying to focus on getting another forkful of stew into her mouth in an attempt to disguise the rising tide of her anger. To her utter relief she saw him shake his head and leave the room with his plate of stew.

“Thought we had him there for a minute, Soap,” Gaz sighed, shaking his head.

“Soap?” Jules asked, a little confused.

“Aye, tha’s me,” MacTavish said.

“Why Soap?”

“‘Cause he’s good at cleaning house,” Gaz offered, whilst MacTavish beamed at her.

Jules couldn’t suppress the snicker that bubbled up from her throat, grateful for the distraction. It was short-lived, however, when Soap began his “not prying” line of questions once more.

“So ye ken oor Ghostie then?” he asked, not missing Jules awkwardness.

“Like I said before, I used to. Not seen him in ten years,” she shrugged off the question.

“Ooooh, so you know the man behind the mask…” Gaz speculated, his eyes widening with the anticipation of gossip.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jules replied, swallowing the last of her water. “A lot can change in that amount of time.”

“But what’s he look like though?” he pressed, eager for any speck of gossip about their Lt.

“What d’ya mean?” Jules asked, becoming more perplexed by the minute.

“Never takes his mask off,” Soap offered with a shrug.

“You mean never as in…never? At all?” Jules’ voice was thick with incredulity.

“Nope, never.”

“Crazy-arse bastard,” she muttered, filing away that piece of information for later.

The two soldiers still stared at her expectantly, as if she were about to divulge some key piece of intel but she left them disappointed. She stood, scraping her chair backwards as she gathered her plate and cutlery.

“Sorry gents, it’s been a long and very weird day. I’m gonna turn in for some early shut eye ‘cause I’m sure tomorrow’s goin’ t’be just as crazy.”

“Too right,” Gaz agreed, but Jules had already left the table.

She deposited her tea things by the wash-up station and left the mess. The list of duties for the next day had already been pinned to the noticeboard opposite so she took a second to check it and groaned internally. For all intents and purposes it looked like she’d been let off lightly. There was an equipment audit scheduled for the afternoon and she wondered what that might entail but it was the morning’s activity that concerned her the most. It was a skills assessment which, under normal circumstances, wouldn’t have phased her but this one wasn’t led by the Captain, it was led by Lieutenant Riley. Shit.

Jules’ plans for an early kip were scuppered. Her brain just wouldn’t switch off and, after a couple of hours of tossing and turning she gave up. Leaving her bed with a frustrated huff she stuffed her feet into her trainers and made her way down to the mess for a glass of milk to try and reset her racing thoughts. Voices filtered into the corridor from the mess and she slowed her pace, automatically making her steps lighter and almost soundless.

“Ach, come on Lt, gi’ us a bit o’ somethin’ eh?” Soap’s voice carried loudly.

“Leave it alone, Johnny,” came the low and slightly muffled rumble from behind Ghost’s mask.

“Not even the tiniest bit of back story?” Gaz probed.

“I told you, I’m not gonna talk about it. We knew each other a long time ago, that’s it. You old hags are gonna have t’get your gossip somewhere else.”

It was then that Jules stepped into the room, which fell silent as the three guys turned their eyes in her direction.

“Don’t mind me,” she muttered, keeping her head down as she searched for the milk in the fridge.

“You joining us for a brew?” Gaz asked, shaking his mug of tea in her direction.

“No, ta,” she replied as she located the milk and filled herself a glass.

“Cannae sleep?” Soap queried sympathetically.

“Summat like that,” Jules said, downing her drink and then rinsing her glass. “Night, fellas.”

With a nod of acknowledgement to Gaz and Soap’s chorus of “g’night”, she left the room. Ghost had remained silent, simply folding his arms over his chest, but she could feel his stare boring between her shoulder blades long after she’d left his line of sight.

* * * * *

Juliette looked up from her desk, startled by the cough from her bedroom door. Her cheeks flamed red as she saw Simon lounging in the doorway, a lop-sided grin on his face.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked, nodding with his chin towards her book.

“Wuthering Heights,” she groaned, dying internally at the thought of her messy hair and the giant spot that had erupted on her forehead the night before. “I gotta annotate three chapters for homework.”

“Homework?” he scoffed. “You’re such a swot, Jules.”

“I am not,” she protested, shifting a stack of notes underneath the latest issue of Just 17 magazine. “I can’t understand the bloody thing anyway.”

“You got Mr Benedict for English?” Simon asked and when she nodded he stepped further into her room.

Juliette’s heart skipped a beat and she almost forgot how to breathe when Simon leaned over her desk and took her pen from her hand.

“I had him too, he loves Wuthering Heights. You need to be highlighting bits like this…and this…” he drew circles around phrases in the book. ‘And make sure you talk about pathetic fallacy. He’ll go mental for that.”

“Cheers, Simon,” she beamed and he smiled back at her.

“Not a fan of English then?” he asked as he straightened up and looked around at her room a bit more.

She prayed that she’d remembered to put all her dirty washing in the basket and that he wouldn’t notice the poster of Damon Albarn that she’d ripped out of Just 17 and pinned to the wall next to her bed.

“Nah, I like I.T. and Maths,” Juliette admitted, and she really did.

She loved computers and how they worked. Miss Talbot had promised to give her extra classes on coding if she passed her end of topic test next week.

‘Told you, you’re a total swot. Maybe even a geek.”

“Am not!”

“Yeah you are,” he teased, laughing as she smacked him on the arm. “I gotta go. If you need any more help just tap me up.”

“Yeah?” Juliette blushed again, relishing the thought of maybe spending more time with him without Rob being his usual twatty self.

“Course.”

“Mint,” she exclaimed, “Thanks Simon.”

“Laters, Jules,” he said as he left her room, throwing her a cheeky wink.

Juliette groaned and let her head thunk onto her desk. Her heart pounded a rapid tattoo but at least she remembered how to breathe again. Lifting her head she gazed at the pages of the novel where Simon had made notes for her in his distinctive boxy script. She pulled the book closer to her, vowing to keep it forever, but then nearly vomited in embarrassment as she caught sight of the piece of paper that had lain just under it, the writing clearly visible. Down the centre of the paper was written the words TRUE LOVE with numbers next to each letter but it was the names at the top of the page that made Juliette want to crawl into a hole and never return.

Juliette Kelsall and Simon Riley.

She’d never be able to look him in the face again.

Taglist: @aykxz98

#simon ghost riley #ghost x oc #john price #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon riley #john soap mactavish #soap cod #cod mwii #ghost cod #kyle gaz garrick

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myfandomprompts · 10 months

Text

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟓)

Summary: It's time for Tom to go home, but crossing France is no easy task. You are back on the road again but you're not alone. Previous part - Masterlist

Tags: fluff, mention of death, death scenery

A/N: Thank you @babyblue711 for betareading. It's been fun to write for him again.

French spoken -> italics

There was something infuriating about crossing France at such a pace.

In fact, as soon as Tom and Giulia had gotten out of the American Hospital, there had been a lot of hiding and waiting for hours while the Germans settled in Paris like they were at home. When they finally reached the outwards of Paris, dark had fallen again and over the next few days they barely had been able to sleep.

Now, Tom and Giulia were walking across a field, the morning fog sticking to the wheat around them and the warm sun of June already peeking behind the woods they were headed towards. Tom’s hands were cold, so he put them in his pockets where the two cigarette packets rested safely, his fingers grazing them like they were a source of comfort.

“Where are we?”

Giulia didn’t turn around, trotting in front of him with purpose. “Nearing Etampes, we’ve still got a few kilometres to go.”

Tom felt silly for his question, for he had no idea what that meant for them. All he knew was that they would go as south as possible and get transportation once beyond the Demarcation Line, where France was said to be “free”, and that would be the most difficult task according to his guide.

He liked her. She was not really talkative but he didn’t care much, rather satisfied to remain with his own thoughts as they crossed the countryside. It was obvious she was smart from what he could tell, handy, and he was kind of grateful that she was here, leading him and risking her life to help him escape.

She also had figured him out quite quickly, to his greatest discontent. “We would go faster if you’d stop looking over your shoulder all of the time,” she stated as she crossed the hem of the woods they had finally reached.

Tom scowled, fastening his pace to catch up with her. “Maybe you should stop gawking at me and focus on our itinerary, eh? Wouldn't want us to get lost.”

“We won’t be lost as long as you stay close, and don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed. “It’s like you're expecting something or someone to catch up with us. Trust me, the Germans are already ahead, or too busy north."

Tom found no witty response to retort as he looked at the green of the trees around him. Maybe he was not walking as fast as she was because he was indeed reluctant to gain speed, and maybe he was looking over his shoulder because he expected someone to appear behind him. Just… late to the party, maybe.

He closed his fingers around the packets more tightly as he jumped over a tree trunk.

Several hours later, when the sun was at its zenith, they had left the series of dry fields and forests and had emerged on a green path, where queues of people walked at a slow pace right before them.

Both him and Giulia came to a stop, observing as passed people of all ages and sizes, entire families, sometimes with bags, sometimes bereft of it, sometimes lucky enough to have an animal or a bike to carry it. He watched as a frail and exhausted-looking woman gave water to the infant in her arms, dusty and crying from fatigue as the heat weighed on them. Next to them, a half-burned car was abandoned on the side of the road, slowing down the advancement of the scattered mass. Tom could hear the roar of working automobiles somewhere further down the road and the neigh of horses.

“What… are they doing?” he asked, lips parted as he watched a child crunch a piece of bread between his teeth like it was stone.

“Fleeing,” Giulia answered, “Or going home. One of the two options. Come on.”

They jumped over the ditch that separated them from the road and began merging with the travellers, joining the queue of Belgians and French people that had fled the bombing of their home for months, and were now at a loss about what to do and where to go, Germans at every corner of the road.

You looked at your watch with impatience, seeing the sun filter through the thick curtain of the train window with Henriette seated across from you, anxiously looking around.

You felt the train slow down, and soon the sign of Chartes train station appeared as the wagon came to a full stop. You and Henriette didn’t move, watching as some people stood up to retrieve their bags and get off the train one after the other until a railwayman entered your wagon shouting.

“Terminus messieurs dames, veuillez descendre s’il vous plaît, le train n’ira pas plus loin!”

You exchanged a panicked glance with your friend, feeling the other remaining passengers stand up around you with murmured questions.

“What is happening? Why is the train stopping here? It’s too soon!”

You gave your friend a sharp shake of your head before grabbing your bag from above your head and making your way to exit the train, Henriette hot on your heels. The platform was crowded, so much so that you felt compelled to take the nurses’ hand in order not to lose her. People were coming in and out of the train station, some complaining and some looking around with anguish. You made your way to the billboard where hours of travel were displayed with difficulty, having to use your shoulders with force to do so.

“Excuse me, what is happening?” you approach a man that was already examining the sign with narrowed eyes.

“I’m afraid that there are no trains left in this station going south. Bridges blown up and orders from… above,” he trailed, a disgusted look on his face. “They don’t want people fleeing any more. Made them all stop until they got the system right.”

You felt dread fill you before thanking him and exiting the train station, watching helplessly as groups of people began unpacking food and looking around for cars to rent, rooms to lodge in, or officers to yell at. The rest only walked away to an adjacent street.

“Y/N, what do we do? We are a long way from Poitiers, and we have no transport.”

You tightened your grasp around your bag, looking at the people disappearing at a corner.

“Like everybody else. We walk.”

The walk was tiresome, but it was nothing compared to the many travellers you crossed paths with, those from the Exode who had been on the roads for weeks, months even, and had lost everything, all of this trying to escape a fight that caught up with them in the end.

But generosity was as current as grief in this time of need and you found lodging in a little shop prepared for refugees when night came, its shelves empty from the lack of resupply due to the German advancement. You couldn't say that it was comfortable but at least you could lie down, a luxury some did not have when they came down south, and you and Henriette exhaled in relief when you finally put down your bags and rested.

Food was what came to lack most rapidly, and when you took the road again in the morning under a hot bright sun, your water was running out as well, and several hours later, you were happy to find in the next village a pretty little square with a water pump available. Only, many more had that idea, and the queue to reach the precious liquid was long, so you were left to wait and listen to what was said around you.

“83, she was…slaughtered on the spot. Such a shame…”

You turn to look at the man talking, a tall middle-aged man wearing a hat protecting him from the sun, a thick flask hanging around his shoulder by a leather strap. He was recounting the story of what happened in a nearby village a week ago to a group of travellers, and you approached to listen as well.

“What happened?” asked a woman with a quiet voice.

“Refused to let them occupy her house, that’s all. She lost her husband in the Great War, couldn’t stomach a Boche, kept her head high she did… They dragged her out of her home and shot her. Bloody animals…” he trailed off as everybody looked down, you and Henriette mirroring them. “For me, she was the first resistant, didn’t wait for de Gaulle’s call to start acting.”

The queue moved a little bit more before you and you took a few trembling steps forwards, clutching your bag between your arms. You thought about your brother, somewhere is the north, either dead, made prisoners or lost. You thought about your parents who had travelled far away from the fight that had probably reached them by now, and you hoped they were safe. You thought about Tom, who had survived worse days and you muttered a little prayer between your lips to thank that he was still alive.

All around you it was all tales of how the Germans had cut through the countryside at lightning speed and didn’t even bother killing civilians in the process, dispersing them as much as they could. Each story had you hang on every word that one stranger or another said as you patiently waited your turn to quench your thirst.

Tom looked around, his height enabling him to see above the sea of heads around him, waiting for the same thing they did, and let out a sigh before lowering himself down to level Giulia’s ear.

“You lot have a knack for being slow, I reckon,” he said without making any effort to whisper, and his travelling partner immediately gave him a dark look.

Tom sneered, rolling his shoulders as he raised himself up again while she went back to ignoring him, hands firmly holding the bag on her back and waiting patiently for their turn.

But Tom was not as patient, and most of all, he was bored. He had just finished his first packet of cigarettes, and he found nothing else to do than to look around.

He had to admit, the place was beautiful. Trees bordering the courtyard, the fountain in its middle, the yellow walls of the building around them reflecting the pavements under their feet that shone with the sunlight. But, however pretty it was, all screamed panic around him, something unnatural as families waited for their turn to fill up their bottles with water, asking around for things he could not understand and he wished that Giulia would talk more. Teasing her was the sole thing that amused him lately, but she was reluctant to speak English when they were in public.

So he was left with looking over his shoulder and taking in the scenery, fingers playing inside with the content of his pockets and humming to himself. His smile dropped when he spotted a familiar head of hair and profile standing near a wall next to a man with an impressive moustache.

He narrowed his eyes and pressed the box in his hands harder as he felt his heart leap in his chest. Was this real, or was he just too thirsty to see clearly? The woman was all he saw now, her hair flowing carelessly in the wind and a heavy bag hanging at her side, eyes raised at the man before her and nodding comprehensively.

“Tom!” he heard Giulia hiss under her breath behind him when his feet led him out of the waiting line and straight to the group near the wall. When he approached and heard your voice, he suddenly felt like he was not on the run any more, but back at home.

“Oui, passed the fence and the bridge, and then Germans at every corner. They’re starting to organise themselves, the noose is tightening,” spoke the moustache man.

“What about Poitiers? Is it beyond the line?”

Tom let the man answer you with what sounded like gibberish to him and came to stand right behind you, a bright smile on his face when he smelled the scent of your hair mixed with days of travelling.

“Can’t seem to shake me off, eh?”

You freeze before you turn around, slowly at first and when your eyes examine him your lips parts in mid surprise, making Tom smile more broadly as he sees your eyes soften at the sight of him.

“M. Bennett,” he hears someone say and he notices for the first time the brown-haired woman standing next to you.

“Nurse,” he greets back with a grin as you close your mouth and look between him and Henriette.

Giulia choses this moment to appear right next to Tom’s shoulder, silently observing your little group with suspicious brows and when you turn your head towards her Tom grins wider.

“That’s my guide. She’s not as bad as you, I’d say. Not that it would be really difficult,” he jokes in the direction of the nurse, unable to hide his happiness while you still look speechless.

The nurse gives him an annoyed scowl before turning towards Giulia who wore the same expression, unamused by Tom’s unconcealed glee.

“So it’s you, the woman that started it all. I’m Henriette, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Giulia,” his companion says back while they shake hands before turning to you, still silent.

You seem to awaken at that moment. “Oh, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you. Thank you for everything you’re doing,” you warmly shake her hand, and there is that flick of your eyes on him that he doesn’t miss. “How come you’re here? It’s a… happy coincidence.”

Tom, grateful that you switched to his language while Giulia winces at that choice, answers. “Just walked, not as fast as you did apparently. Were you really this eager to see me off? Could’ve come with me when I asked you, the journey would’ve been more fun.”

His smile is so bright that you can’t help but smile in turn, and he doesn’t look away from it even when Giulia pulls him away by the arm.

“Tom, I was serious when I said not to talk too loudly,” she whispers harshly as she beckons you and Henriette to follow them aside from the crowd. “We never know who can be listening.”

“She is right,” says Henriette wisely as she comes standing next to her. “I’ve heard there are already spies going around, and on top of that people feel abandoned by the military. Better not to test them.”

Tom groans in frustration and puts his hands back in his pockets, biting his tongue.

“I’m glad you made it,” you smile at him after a beat, and he finds his own again quickly while you stare at each other.

There is this shared happiness in the fact that you found each other again after that heartbreaking goodbye at the hospital, when you both thought you would never cross paths again. But now you’re diving into each other’s soul as if nothing had happened, heart content to gaze upon the other and ascertain that you’re both safe and sound.

His heart feels lighter and he reaches into his pocket to draw out one of the packets you’ve given him in what feels like weeks. “Want one? I’m warning you, they taste like shit.”

You smile before taking one.

The story of how you came to leave Paris is quickly told as well as the tale of your short journey south and when your flasks are filled with water to the brim, you all decide to travel together. Giulia knows where she is going, and it reassures both you and Henriette not to travel on your own any more. The plan is to stick together until you crossed the Demarcation Line and reached the Zone Libre. After that, you'll have to part ways again, and you find yourself less and less eager to arrive at your destination.

You had left Tom with such a heavy heart back in Paris that seeing him appear behind you, so radiant with his blue eyes so bright under the sunlight that you could not believe your luck. Maybe a greater design granted you this extra time with him to make up for your mistakes, the ones you had tried to apologise for in your unsent letters, writing it over and over again before throwing each of them away. Maybe you could use this time to “do things properly”, as he had put it. Yes, you would do that, and parting with him again would be easier.

But as you take to the road again, your mind is suddenly drawn elsewhere when you witness the remnants of the exodus and the consequences of war unfold brutally before your eyes. Bodies of dead horses, swollen by the heat and flies swarming around them sometimes appear upon your path as you walk further south, among other dreadful traces of what happened on these roads. The smell of carcasses you are forced to walk by mixed with the strong scent of fuel from cars you cross paths with repulses you, and you tell yourself that you will get used to it as you keep walking. Once or twice, you’re certain that you can discern improvised graves dug on the side of the road, some objects carefully laid upon the mound of dirt and a cross made of twigs planted above it.

All people killed by the enemy, by exhaustion, or by the war that was said to be over.

But nothing feels like it is, and when you look behind your shoulder to glance at Tom, fleeing the country he came to save, you find him already looking at you, and he gives you a small smile as Giulia walks beside him. You return it softly before looking back ahead of you, watching Henriette at your side lower her gaze when you pass a car with bullet holes in it. Tom will be fine, you tell yourself, and England will too.

An hour passes, and you finally have the chance to slow your pace and level with Tom that gladly lets you walk by his side, Henriette and Giulia busy speaking French ahead.

“So, how does it feel to be a dead man walking?” you ask, glancing at his shoulder where you know his wound is hidden under his shirt.

He smirks. “Surprisingly lively. Got my legs hurting like hell and ain’t no way the dead feel that way. But it’s not that bad, considerin’,” he remarks, lips curving upward and a glint in his eyes. “What about you? Happy to be crossing half the country with a Brit on the run? Not what you had in mind, I reckon.”

“It could be worse,” you shrug, “I could be crossing half the country with a sailor with no ship. A good thing you can swim, though, since there might be no more bridges to cross the river when we get there.”

“Who says I can swim?” he asks, raising a quizzical eyebrow he wants teasing.

You tilt your head to the side in false offence. “You’re lying…”

“Yeah, I am,” he grins wider and you chuckle in turn, a warm feeling in your chest. “Me dad taught Lois and me when we were little. Never got over the fact that she swam faster than I did.”

He smiles at the memory before his gaze turns forward and his eyes become hooded. At that moment, you know his mind had drifted back at home, lost in memories of his family and when you see his smile gradually disappear you feel compelled to say something.

“I’m sure they’re alright,” you begin, making your shoulder brush his arm with a nudge. “You’ll see them soon. You could even be an uncle by now!”

Tom smiles anew, the glint in his eyes returned. “Right, fancy that, me, an uncle. Got to live up to the name now.”

You bite your lip, the picture of Tom holding a small baby in his arms and looking down at its curious little face flashing in your mind. The sight melts your heart, to be able to imagine a future where Tom has the happiness he deserves, away from the fight and among his loved ones.

You realise that you’ll never have time to witness that, that you won’t be there.

You won’t be a part of it.

“Maybe you’ll be able to teach them how to swim when they grow up. You and Douglas.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he kicks a rock away with his foot. “It’ll got Harry and all that posh education maybe. Won’t need me very much.”

“I think the baby will be lucky to have you Tom,” you say, nodding your head firmly, feeling the doubt radiating from him and reaching through your skin. “Anybody would.”

His eyes snap back at you and stay there, and you can feel the burn of it on the side of your face. When you meet them they are soft, unsaid words floating through the silence that settles between you as you stare at each other, the affection tangible and heavy.

The silence is broken by a loud noise, a roar that seems to approach quickly and you raise your eyes at the sky like everybody else around you to search for the source of it. It becomes louder by the second, filling the air and you hear someone yell somewhere ahead before the sound of the engine becomes clear to you.

“Pas des nôtres !” Not ours! Someone shouts again and suddenly people are moving, scattering everywhere they can to find cover, rolling beneath their carts or jumping down the ditches at the side of the road beneath the trees that border it, out of view.

You surge into action, feeling Tom’s hand on your back and Henriette’s pull at your arm before you jump down in a ditch, back pressed against the dirt with the others, eyes directed at the sky in the hope to see the deadly machine that emits that deafening sound. Despite the leaves above you, you feel blinded by the light of the blue sky, the heat of June crushing you and you have no choice but to lower your gaze, blinking as icy panic fills your body, freezing you into place.

When you open your eyes again, it’s Tom they see, crouching next to you instead of lying down, as ready to run, eyes tensed in focus as they rake the sky for something to see. His chest heaves with every breath he takes, his hands tighten into fists, the anguish radiating off his skin as you can see on his face the dreadful memories he is reliving as clearly as words on a page. Memories of chasers coming down on a beach and the sharp pain of his shoulder among the screeching sound of sirens.

You don’t think, you reach for his hand on the grass, resting your palm over his fist and there is that slight flinching of his shoulders before his gaze snaps down where your hands meet. He stares at it, eyes softening before raising his eyes at you, and you smile, like it’s only the two of you in this place, like nothing else exists.

He opens his fingers and lets you take his palm, gently squeezing as you wait for the sound to come over you, passing far too close above and then it’s gone, fading away as quickly as it came.

Nobody moves at first, waiting for the noise to die in the distance and you exhale, watching as people start coming out of their hiding in shock silence.

A thumb caresses the side of your hand and you feel yourself being pulled upward out of the ditch.

A/N:

The ID in order to cross the line (auswei) was established in the course of July 1940. Late June/August, when Tom travels, the Germans were ensuring the correct functioning of the demarcation line, and setting official crossing points. Late June the Germans were still advancing before being called back after the signature of the franco-italian armistice by direct order, and roughly form the demarcation line.

Between the 20th and 26th of June, families are returning home, encouraged by the new government as Tom and Giulia go to the new Free Zone to cross the Spanish border.

The story of the 80 years old woman who got shot is a true one. She died a few hours before the armistice was announced.

Trad: "Terminus, ladies and gentlemen, would you please get off the train, it won't go any further!"

Bold means I could not tag you:

@chainsawsangel @mischiefmanaged71 @depressedperson88 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @yentroucnagol @tssf-imagines @omgkatherine01 @nightdiamond8663 @r0segard3n @lauraneedstochill @lauftivy @unleashthelion

Part 6

#tom bennett #tom bennet x reader #wof #world on fire #tom bennet imagine #smut #tom bennett fanfiction #ewan mitchell #angst #fluff #world on fire 1x03 #gone with regret #usermyfandomprompts

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anotherbloodiedbonesaw · 2 months

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About Mich;

Hallo! Emm.. decided to make zhis for MEDICAL PURPOSES! Eh, you could say so, at least. I am intrigued by zhe nature of zhis app.. so I shall give it a try! Zhe thought of being asked questions, both professional and unprofessional, if you vill, seems a fun way to pass zhe time. In spare time, when zhere are no patients or bodies to dissect, send something! Zhis looks fun! HAHA!

Tags? Ah?

#medic asks - for zhe questions you all may have!

#gory graphics - for zhe art you create!

#bloody borrows - anything in zhe queue!

Possibly zhere will be more in zhe future!

Mod Tags

#mod talks - any regular post I make

#mod ask - answering asks that refer to me

#important - any important announcements

-----------

(OOC) Hello! I'm Archi, and I run this ask blog. I made this purely for fun, and seeing so many of these ask blogs pop up on my feed lately have definitely given me some inspiration. The tag #ooc will be used whenever I have something to say on a post or such, you get it. I hope you guys have fun with this, and I apologize if things seem out of character at points, I'll try my best. Also, this will include headcanons. Probably a lot of them. However, I will try my best not to stray too far from canon.

#tf2 #askblog #tf2 askblog #medic tf2 #tf2 medic #team fortress 2

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margravelucian · 7 months

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I live yet

I'm mostly on instagram. I've changed my "internet name". 12 years of being plain old "mister", I thought it was time for a promotion. A margrave is a defunct medieval military title, meaning a lord of the borderlands. It is appropriate. I was in fact considering it as a middle name all those years ago when I changed my name. I may yet do this.

I am having "a difficult time" as my partner of 298437053596 years moved away to live in Norway for three years around two and a bit years ago. It has made me very bental, so my output and other associated comings and goings are now haphazard(er than they usually are) AT BEST. I want to start using this blog again because I am SO bored of instagram which completely sucks for posting art to people who want to look at it. But, my account there's got more followers eh. The riddle of the socials.

Anyway, I'm going to queue some stuff. Ha det.

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awmancreeper · 9 months

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♡Lonely Boy Will Stay Lonely?. 30 - Like Him?

--❣︎ StayC’s Y/n is notorious for being K-pop’s social butterfly and making friends comes rather easy for her. When she’s asked to be an MC for Inkigayo, one of her co-hosts doesn’t seem too pleased to be working with her. This unknown feeling sparks a drive to become the bestest of friends with him but from the looks of it, he’ll fight her the whole way there.

Masterlist / prev / next

!!written parts!!

“Cut!”

You put down your queue cards letting out a yawn “did to you get any sleep last night?” A voice spoke beside you. Kai looked down at you curiously “Yes I did, slept a whole 5 hours” you told him as he looked completely unimpressed “Did you go to sleep late or wake up early?”

You walked towards the snack table with both Jisung and Kai on your trail “Mmmm went to sleep at 12 and woke up at 5” You picked up a mini donut as Kai groaned “You really need to sleep more!”

“Ugh you guys are sickening” Jisung playfully gagged “Aww are you feeling left out sungie” you asked but he just scoffed “I’m a lone wolf y/n” Jisung crossed his arms

“Having a girl will only slow me down” he said looking off into the distance. You nodded “Are you breaking up with me Ji?” you cried out, he took the mini donut from your hand “It’s not me, It’s you” he said walking away

“So majestic” you giggled but you felt Kai’s eyes burning into the side of your face. “I take naps on the way to schedules okay?” You shrugged “No need to worry your pretty little head about it” you added grabbing his arm to pull him down for you to pat his head, feeling his soft hair

“Hyuka!” A bassed voice called out, you froze in your tracks as a tall bunny-like man with an equally tall fox made their way to you and Kai. “We brought you lunch!”

Kai stood up straight looking over at Soobin and Yeonjun “Oh Thanks-“ Kai began but a tight grip on his arm brought his attention back over to you.

You held Kai’s arm feeling intimidated by the older males, slowly hiding yourself behind the broad Hyuka your heart began to race.

‘It’s freakin soobin and Yeonjun!!’ You mentally freaked out. A hand touched your waist making you jolt “Hyungs this y/n!” Kai exclaimed happily with a mischievous smile as he brought you to his side, his hand still resting on your waist.

“The infamous y/n!” Yeonjun bowed and in return, you bowed at 90 degrees “It’s an honor to meet you!” You yelled.

The older boys looked at each other confused while Kai smirked “Come on Y/n don’t forget about my Soobin-hyung” Kai tease pushing you forward. You looked up while Soobin’s eyes turned to crescents his soft smile following right after.

Months ago you would’ve either fainted or sobbed at the sight but instead, you politely bowed. “It’s nice to see you again”

“Same!” He said flattening his smile making his dimples more prominent. You smiled gently at the giant while Kai looked at you confused. “I’m glad we can finally see the girl that’s been making our Ning act like school boy” Yeonjun said swinging his arm over Kai.

“As if” Huening scoffed while you looked at your shoes with a red face “Really?” You muttered, “Yup, He’s always telling us about you!” Soobin added bending slightly down to look at you.

“Good things I hope!” You looked at them smiling. Yeonjun and Soobin swooned at your cuteness “Eh details don’t really matter” Yeonjun said

Kai raised his brow at you, expecting you to already be hiding under the snack table he broke free from Yeonjun’s grasp. “Are you feeling alright?” He question bringing his face extremely close to yours

You stumbled back, placing your hand on the snack table to stable yourself. “What do you mean?!” You asked as your ears burned “You know what I mean” he said squinting his eyes.

“I-I-I-“

“Woah Hyuka give the girl some space,” Yeonjun told him placing his hand on Kai’s shoulder all while Soobin held his hand over his heart fanboying over the young adults.

You did the same but it was to calm your heart down before you gave yourself a heart attack. “You have to be gentle” Soobin told Kai while looking at you. Your face only got worse as they all looked at you.

“I’m gonna die”

“What?-“ Soobin asked but Kai cut him off “Hey hyungs why don’t you wait over there I gotta speak to y/n about something” Kai explained “Okay but y/n why don’t you join us-“ Soobin began yet Kai cut him off again “go!”

He said pushing them away

“Come on Binnie he wants to talk to her alone” Yeonjun to him smirking while Soobin nodded “riiiight!”

You watched the men walk away as your heart finally slowed. Exhaling in relief Kai steps into your field of vision. “What gives?”

“What?” You looked at him confused “Are feeling alright?” He asked again stepping closer “Is the lack of sleep finally catching up?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you huffed crossing your arms. Kai’s jaw dropped “Woah did you finally get over your little crush?” You smirked at Kai “It’s called character development” you told him flipping your hair

“You sure?” Kai questioned placing his hand dangerously close to yours on the table. “I’m pretty sure” You looked over at the older men

“Positive?” Kai’s voice softly tickled your right ear. “I mean look at him,” he teased you laughed but your eyes slowly moved up at Kai realizing you were only a couple of inches apart.

“He’s tall, handsome”

“Handsome” you said your eyes tracing his Kai’s features

“Really nice and funny”

“Very” you whispered feeling heat in your cheeks

“And look how cute his dimples are! It makes you just wanna hug him huh?” Kai asked with a smirk “Yeah”

He peeked down at you to see your reaction only to find you looking at him. His smirk fell “he’s the perfect guy” you spoke, Kai spotted your red cheeks making his heart skip a beat. Kai gulped “He is?”

“Ehm” Both you and Kai jumped spotted Jisung looking over at you “Y’all really need to be more low key about it,” he said crossing his arms. You looked away while Kai kept his eyes on you “If someone sees you you’ll get in trouble, or worst it’ll get out” Jisung explained

“What are you talking about?” Kai questioned “Don’t act all innocent Huening, also can you introduce me to Yeonjun” Ji asked looking at Kai with puppy dog eyes “Yeah whatever” you felt a big hand your head.

“Yes!” Jisung said excitedly as Kai removed his hand from your head beginning to walk away but he stopped looking back at you. “You coming L/n?” Kai asked “Um I’ll catch up, I just have to attend to some business” you told him lifting the edge of the tablecloth.

“Okay~” Ji teased walking away “I guess she does still have a thing for Soobin” Kai spoke watching you make your way under the snack table. “Huh?” “Nothing” Huening shook his head catching up with Jisung.

Taglist: @txtbrainrot @azinwo @mackjestic @mangobee @ggggghost @adajoemaya @kainkhemistry @suzirumas @amareoverall @owotalks @justemalove @kaisdefender @aloverga @myahwritesss @justiceya @loopycorn1123 @amara-mars @samvagejkflxhrt @iraa567 @liinori @reinahwanggg @bangchansbae @heyitssarah63 @txtmetonight @lilyidk03 @roseidol @heymickyy @sofia-rom (CLOSED)

#tomorrow x together #kpop smau #kpop #fem reader #txt smau #txt fluff #huening kai #hyuka x reader #huening kai x reader #idol smau

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clumsy-jiminie · 3 months

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ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

❝ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ❞

↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.

↣ rating :: 18+

↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn

↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung

↣ word count :: 4.1k

↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, public intoxication

↣ notes :: tame chapter with just a glimpse into their friendships. next chapter is when the fun really begins. also, this story takes place in 2022, since that's when I started to write it originally and it just makes the most sense to me

↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢

ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖

"it seems that they're happier than me. seems like they're where I wanna be. I've got a heart of a hopeless romantic."

-hopeless romantic, sam fischer-

"Taehyung!" Jimin called out as he saw the dark-haired man stepping out of his car. He began to walk towards him as the man offered him a wave before meeting him halfway. The two hugged upon arrival, patting each other on the back as they greeted each other. Taehyung kept his word and has been texting the blonde over the past few weeks. After working through schedule differences, Jimin invited the man to hang out with some friends to get him out there again. Supposedly, Taehyung had become a recluse from those active college days when people who didn't attend the school knew his name.

"It's fucking freezing," Taehyung complained as he walked alongside Jimin. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Wasn't it just 70 degrees the other day?"

Jimin chuckled, feeling the breeze nipping at the exposed skin on his neck. "You've been here for how long, and you're still not used to New York weather?" They expertly weaved through people as the streets grew more crowded. It was a Friday night, not that it made a difference for New York City. As usual, the city was alive. The strip lined with bars, clubs, and your occasional food stop sang a melody Jimin grew to love.

"I can't deal with this place's flip-flop weather." He huffed, slowing with the other as they joined a short queue. "I miss California. At least there, winter was always a nice, consistent 70. Sometimes 60, but never below a damn 50."

The blonde laughed, shaking his head as he covered his mouth. He was glad that he stumbled upon Taehyung at that art show. He missed him and his antics. He thought about his younger often but never had the time to reach out. "You have a point. Cali was like summer year-round. Have you visited recently?"

Taehyung nodded, pulling out his phone from his pocket. "Yeah, I just checked on my parents last month."

Jimin smiled fondly, remembering Mr. and Mrs. Kim. "That's nice; what did your girlfriend think?"

"She didn't go."

Jimin's eyes went wide for a second before his brows furrowed. He kept his thoughts to himself, knowing it wasn't his place to intrude. He found it odd, though, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't help himself. "How long have you been together?"

Taehyung glanced up from his phone, looking to the sky as if the dulled stars could give him the answer. "Um, two? Three years?"

Jimin's brows lowered. "You're not sure?"

"Eh, you stop counting after two anyway." He said with a wave of his hand.

Jimin looked ahead, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. It's not your place, he thought to himself. A girl as beautiful as her, and he couldn't even remember how long they'd been together? He wondered if the man remembered their anniversary or made some half-ass attempt after forgetting. But it wasn't his place. He was sure whatever Taehyung was doing kept his partner happy, even if it seemed the bare minimum. He decided not to pry any further to keep the energy high for tonight. He filled the silence between them with small talk, little nothings that the two didn't care much for.

After entering the establishment, Jimin began to lead Taehyung through the crowd. Intense music and passing conversations filled their eardrums. Some girls had one too many drinks, swaying wildly in their seats, and men whose eyes wandered in the room hoping to find a "friend" to take home. The blonde led him to a table further into the establishment.

"Hey!" A group of men shouted once they reached the table. A few glasses were on the table, letting the newcomers know they started drinking without them.

"Hey guys," Jimin grinned as he took off his coat. "This is my friend Taehyung." He introduced the dark-haired man as they sat in their seats. The blonde then glanced at the faces surrounding them before the corners of his lips pulled down into a frown. "Yoongi couldn't make it?"

A man with midnight locks and round-framed glasses sitting on his nose shook his head, his large hands messing with a shot glass until it fell. He startled himself, dark eyes glancing at the other men at the table to see if they noticed. "Boyfriend problems." The table erupted in a collective sigh.

Jimin raised his hand to grab the attention of a waiter. "I swear, he needs to find someone less toxic."

Another dark-haired man nodded, plush lips formed into a pout as he fidgeted with a napkin between his fingers. "He claims he's his muse, or whatever the fuck that means."

Taehyung then locked eyes with the man sitting next to him. The man furrowed his brunette eyebrows, and his short platinum hair ruffled slightly. The ebony-haired man furrowed his eyebrows until the other gave him a heart-shaped smile. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere!" He exclaimed, reaching out to pat him on the back. The rest of the table glanced at the two, eyebrows raised. "He's my neighbor!" He beamed.

It took a minute to hit Taehyung, but when it did, a smile grew on his lips as well. "Hoseok! Shit, it's been a minute."

"Well, since Jimin has no home training," the other dark-haired man said, prompting a hey from the blonde. "I'm Seokjin."

"And I'm Namjoon." The man with the glasses said.

"I was getting there," Jimin grumbled, finally getting the attention of a waitress. He placed an order for the table.

"Sure you were," Seokjin joked with a smirk. "So what do you do for a living, Taehyung?"

"I'm an architect," he said as he leaned onto the table. "What about you guys?"

”I'm an accountant," Seokjin said.

"I'm an art gallery owner," Namjoon said, earning a nod from Taehyung.

"I work for Jimin," Hoseok snickered while Jimin rolled his eyes. The waitress returned, placing shots and beer in front of the men.

"We work together," Jimin corrected, taking a swig of his beer. He playfully glared at the platinum blonde. "Besides, you were holding it down for the past year."

"Psh, I was only reading off your text messages to the people." He waved off Jimin, causing the man to shake his head.

While the others chuckled, Taehyung's brows furrowed as he looked at Jimin. "What exactly do you do?"

"I own a couple—"

"Four," Hoseok cut him off with a teasing smile.

"Dance studios around Manhattan and Long Island." Despite the interruption, Jimin continued with that playful glare in his eyes. "Hoseok and a couple of people teach the Long Island locations, and I take care of the Manhattan ones."

"Oh wow," Taehyung nodded. He vaguely remembered Jimin mentioning that was his dream. It was unbelievable how he accomplished it already.

"Cheers to that," Seokjin said, raising his shot glass. The other three men followed while Taehyung hesitated. He glanced at Jimin, eyes drowning with uncertainty. The blonde couldn't help but smile softly, offering him a comforting nod. He grabbed his glass, clinking it with the rest of the group before taking it to the head.

Jimin placed his glass back on the table, seemingly unaffected by the intoxicating liquid that warmed his chest as it went down. Taehyung's face visibly twisted — his nose wrinkled as the corners of his mouth pushed downward. His tongue made a brief appearance as he tried to physically shake the taste out of his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he had a drink. Maybe college? The other men chuckled at his reaction, finding him amusing.

"The first one is always bad," Hoseok commented with a noticeable frown on his lips. "It'll start tasting like nothing soon enough." Taehyung nodded as he called the waitress over, ordering himself some water.

"So, how are the wedding preparations?" Seokjin asked, looking at Hoseok.

The sound of Jimin choking on his beer didn't take anyone by surprise except for Taehyung. "What?! You're engaged?!" The blonde stared at the other, eyes wide and jaw dropped. Hoseok just nodded, a broad smile forming as he looked down at the table bashfully. "To Momo?" He questioned lightly.

Hoseok nodded again. "Of course, she's the love of my life." He looked at Jimin, causing the table to erupt in an aw. Taehyung glanced around for a moment before shifting in his seat.

"Congratulations!" Jimin beamed, leaning back into his seat. "Damn, you leave for a year and miss everything."

"I got the video of the proposal if you want to see it," Namjoon offered as he pulled out his phone. Jimin leaned over to Namjoon so enthusiastically that he practically knocked over his drink.

"I really thought we weren't going to make it for a second," Hoseok admitted, hearing the memories playing from Namjoon's phone. "Jin honestly saved us."

Taehyung tilted his head as he picked at the fries the group had ordered. "What do you mean?"

Seokjin leaned back in his seat, taking a sip of his beer. "I'm like the relationship guru of the group." He lifted his left hand, a silver band glimmering on his ring finger. "Happily married, 12 years strong." The smile that formed on his lips was genuine, almost prideful.

Now, Taehyung choked on his drink, catching the group's attention. Their conversation slowed as they watched him closely, ready to help. He swallowed hard; the gulp of air water going down his esophagus put an ache in his chest. "12 years?" He repeated, eyes wide as Seokjin nodded. "And you're how old?"

"Thirty."

"Holy shit." He stared down at the table, hand running through his dark hair as he did the math. "So right out of high school…." He chewed on the inside of his cheek as disbelief clouded his mind.

”How's the wife anyway?" Jimin asked with a smile. He was so happy that his friends had found love; healthy love at that. He wanted nothing but the best for them.

"Amazing and pregnant," he grinned.

Jimin and Namjoon shared a gasp. "Congrats!" The blonde said, causing everyone but Taehyung to cheer quietly.

Seokjin raised his hands, silently telling the men to stop. "Thank you. She's almost out of the first trimester."

"Are you having a baby shower or a gender reveal?" Hoseok asked.

Seokjin shrugged, smiling to himself as he thought. "I don't know; I wouldn't mind doing both, though."

"I'm sorry," Taehyung said. Everyone looked at him while his eyes locked with Seokjin. "I know I just met you, but… within 12 years of being committed, you've never stepped out on her once?"

"No." He answered quickly, with no thought to it whatsoever. His brows lowered while looking at the dark-haired man, almost offended by his genuine question. "I never even had the thought to."

"How?"

Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin all exchanged the same look with each other before looking to Seokjin for his answer.

"How?" Seokjin repeated as he sat up. "Because I love her. And I will love her until the earth's end. We always choose each other at the end of the day. We choose to love, choose to be faithful." His stare hardened. "Are you in a relationship?"

Taehyung suddenly felt small under Seokjin's gaze. "Yeah…," he said quietly.

"And you're actively choosing her?" He asked with a raised brow. Taehyung looked at him for a moment as if he suddenly froze. His gaze lowered toward the table as he nodded. "Then you have nothing to worry about."

"Shit, and I thought I was just here to get drunk," Namjoon mumbled, causing everyone to laugh off the tension. Jimin looked at his old friend, watching as he fiddled with his fingers. The blonde wondered why he would ask that. Why would that thought cross his mind and leave his lips without hesitation?

"So!" Hoseok looked at Jimin. His energy practically screamed out at him to be saved, and he knew how to cheer him up. "Do you wanna hear from the Jung wedding chronicles?" Jimin's eyes finally met as he nodded, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile. "We finally found a place after weeks of traveling between three. And now, it's the best part. Colors."

Seokjin laughed wholeheartedly while the other two men looked confused. "Lemme guess, your living room looks like the inside of a Home Depot paint section."

Hoseok groaned loudly, shutting his eyes as he fell back into his seat. "Yes, oh my god. I swear girls have some kind of super eyesight because she showed me three blue swatches and said they were different colors!" The group laughed at his frustration, but Taehyung only let out an uncomfortable chuckle. "I love the woman to death, but I swear I'm gonna lose my mind doing this. She cares so much about every little detail, and I'm just happy to be marrying the love of my life."

"Ew," Jimin chimed in as he sipped his beer. He grinned, scrunching his nose up slightly. "You're so in love; it's gross."

"To gross for you to be a groomsman?" Hoseok asked, quirking a brow while smirking.

Jimin's eyes lit up, though he tried feigning a grimace. "Ugh, of course, I would love to be one. Are you kidding?"

Taehyung suddenly stood up, causing everyone to look at him. "I gotta go."

Jimin furrowed his brows. They've only been here briefly; if he remembered correctly, Taehyung said he could hang out until late. "Where are you going?"

"I just, um…." He stuttered, trying to find a reason besides not wanting to sit at a table full of married people. Happily, married people. He pulled out his phone, seeing a text notification on his Lock Screen. "Kiara needs me to pick her up." He gave Jimin a half smile while Hoseok furrowed his brows and glanced at his phone. Taehyung looked at the rest of the table. "It was nice meeting you all. I hope we can hang out again soon." He nods at them before walking away.

Once Taehyung left, the tension in the air finally dissipated. Everyone's shoulders relaxed as they exchanged the same look of awkwardness. That same heaviness from earlier reappeared in Jimin's chest, prompting him to chug at least half of his beer in hopes of drowning it.

Namjoon cleared his throat. He was quiet most of the night for a reason. "He's a little…, odd." He said slowly, choosing his words lightly.

"Yeah," the rest of them said in unison. Jimin and Hoseok shared a look, speaking silently. Hoseok shook his head as he looked at his phone again.

"Well," Seokjin clapped his hands together before calling for the waitress, "another round!”

A few blocks down, four girls seemed to steal the breath of everyone they passed. They walked down the sidewalk as if it were a runway, and they were models. Out of the whole population of Manhattan, only a few had it. People moved out of the way for them. Men gawked as they passed, earning hits in the arms of their significant others. Girls couldn't help but stare with envious eyes while whispering off with their friends. It took a lot to steal the attention of other New Yorkers, but the group was used to it. They didn't mind it as they were too wrapped up in their own conversations.

When they reached their destination, the girls ducked into a building. It was their go-to karaoke spot, an experience that grew into a weekly tradition in the colder seasons. The four had the intention to sing until their vocal cords were raw. The interior was dim; the bulbs in the ceiling gave off a red light. They stood in a corner, out of the way of traffic, while one of them ran up to the counter.

"I swear to god, he's still in love with you," Kiara told Valerie, causing the woman to huff. She flipped her wavy midnight hair over her shoulder, her onyx eyes rolling as her blush pink lips formed into a smile. Her warm, beige skin turned pink as she thought of the man still wanting her.

"Why did you even break up with him?" Another girl named Samira asked. She popped her gum before blowing a bubble that took away the shine on her two-tone chocolate and raspberry lips. Her button nose wrinkled, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned to the side. She had golden brown skin and long hair the shade of obsidian that fell down her back.

"Because he was too boring," Valerie whined, her full lips sticking out into a childish pout while the girls groaned audibly and rolled their eyes. "He was too stable! He had a job, a car, his own apartment…."

"Oh my god, he had a job?!" Kiara gasped dramatically, sarcasm laced in her silk voice. "And a car!? And a place to live?!" She raised her hand, placing it on her forehead as she leaned on Samira, pretending to faint.

Samira laughed as she held her up, ignoring Valerie's glares at the two. "God forbid you meet a stable man in New York City! The absolute horror!" She joked through giggles.

While Valerie swatted her hands at the girls, the one who ran off returned to the group. Her skin was fair, the red lights tinging her to a soft pink. Her almond eyes, bright despite their dark color, watched as the girls interacted. Her hair, shoulder-length black, was pulled into two low ponytails. "The room is ready!" Her sweet voice cut through the commotion of the girls, offering each of them a smile to match.

Valerie stopped her attack, throwing her arms around the girl to embrace her. "Momo! They're making fun of me!" She whined like a child while Kiara and Samira stuck their tongues at her.

"Aw," Momo cooed as she rubbed Valerie's back. She playfully glared at the girls. "Shame on you two. You know she's not all the way there!"

Valerie gasped while pulling away from her. "Hey!" They all shared a laugh while Momo led them down the hall to one of the reserved rooms.

The women quickly got comfortable in the room, stripping themselves of their winter coats and placing them onto the corner of the couch. They ordered some food and drinks and sang to their heart's content. Everyone felt warm, laughing as they purposely sang songs out of tune. The drinks were strong, and none of the greasy appetizers they ordered had soaked up the alcohol. Needless to say, within the hour, they were already tipsy. They took a break, plopping and spreading themselves on the couch.

"You know, I met the most interesting person a couple of weeks ago," Kiara said as she put her phone down on her lap. She stared up at the ceiling as flashes of plump lips, a sculpted jawline, and a dazzling smile appeared before her eyes.

"Who?" Valerie asked.

"Someone to replace Taehyung?" Samira smirked as she scrolled through her phone.

Kiara glared at the girl. "No!" She leaned her head back again. "Just someone…."

"This someone had to be important for you to keep remembering them," Momo commented, looking at Kiara.

She couldn't stop the small smile that formed on her lips, giggling softly at a joke no one but she knew. "He just had the shittiest pickup line I ever heard."

"What was it?!" Samira asked, suddenly interested. "I love a corny pickup line."

The smile on Kiara's lips grew, "He compared me to one of the pieces in this art gallery I went to, saying something about us having a beauty no one contained." Despite being corny, she couldn't help but find it charming.

The girls burst into laughter, clapping their hands as they fell into the couch cushions.

"Oh my god, was he like fifty?!" Valerie giggled.

Kiara shook her head, covering her mouth as she laughed. As everyone calmed down, she took a deep breath. "But he was such an ass when I rejected him."

"How so?" Momo asked.

Kiara's face scrunched up, her arms folding over her chest. "First, he called me a liar, and then he said it was a red flag for Taehyung to be late."

"I mean, it is," Samira mumbled, prompting a smack in the arm from Kiara.

"The point is he couldn't take rejection! And called me a liar!" Kiara said in defense.

"Maybe he was just having a bad day," Valerie added. Kiara shrugged. Her rejection might have been the icing on the cake for him. Not everyone was an asshole just to be one.

”In other news!" Samira practically shouted to fill the silence that overcame the girls. The other three jumped slightly, but the girl paid no mind as she flung herself over Kiara's lap to meet Momo. "Let's talk, my love. So about these colors…."

Kiara and Valerie let out a loud groan, followed by a roll of their eyes. "No wedding stuff on girls' night!" Valerie whined.

"Yeah, you promised!" Kiara added while poking at the girl's side, making her flinch.

Momo laughed at the two, eyes filled to the brim with fondness. "You did promise. And I'm not paying extra for off-hours talks."

Samira pouted, then sighed when her half attempt of begging failed, being met with no change. "Fine," she whined as she got up. "This is probably my favorite wedding I planned so far, and I may just be a little obsessed."

”A lot obsessed," Kiara said with a smirk.

Samira stared at Kiara for a moment. "You right," she shrugged before plopping down on the couch.

"Alright! Round two!" Momo exclaimed as she grabbed the small tablet that controlled the TV.

Another hour had passed before the group stumbled out of the establishment with a little more alcohol in their system than before. The streets had become crowded with people—some drunk while others seemed to rush to their destination. Samira and Valerie said their goodbyes, disappearing into the sea of people as they left the two Long Island fish in the sea of city dwellers. Kiara stared down at her phone as she leaned against the brick wall. Despite being warm from the alcohol coursing in her veins, the winter wind still nipped at the bare skin between her dress and thigh-high boots. She stared down at her phone before clicking on a specific contact name. She placed it to her ear for the fourth time, hearing it ring before going to voicemail.

"Need a ride?" Momo asked while putting her phone to her ear.

She bit her lip for a second before sighing heavily. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I don't know why Taehyung's not answering. He said he wasn't gonna be out late."

Momo shrugged her shoulders. "When does he ever answer, though?" She commented before speaking to the person on the other end. Kiara huffed, looking away from the girl. She hated it when Momo was right. She hated when any of her friends were right. Sure, Taehyung had some very annoying qualities, but everyone did. No one was perfect. They didn't know the side of Taehyung she fell in love with, and they didn't have to. Though, being left out in the cold was a downside. "Hobi should be here in a few minutes," Momo said, dropping her phone back into her purse.

Kiara nodded, feeling an odd weight in her stomach. Momo and Hoseok were the picture-perfect couple. Their relationship was something comparable to the big screen. Anyone from miles away could take one glance and tell they had immense love for each other. Kiara wondered if people could tell that with her relationship. She hoped so, at least. Love surrounded her from all angles—her parents' relationship, her brother's, her friends'…—that Kiara couldn't help but yearn for the emotion. If she had it on paper, why was she still getting these feelings while watching couples interact?

As she slid into the backseat of the car, she greeted Hoseok. He handed both girls a bottle of water before proceeding to drive off. She tried not to look at the couple, considering that heavy feeling didn't subside yet. She didn't want to see how he lovingly gazed at her friend. Despite how happy she was for them, she couldn't help but compare her relationship to theirs. The fact that they were together only two years before Hoseok popped the question, compared to her four years and counting, made her queasy. She stared out her window to distract herself. The alcohol kept her quiet as she watched the buildings passing by. Bright lights shone like the stars in the sky, reflecting off of the water as they crossed over the bridge. She picked up bits and pieces of the couple's conversation as her thoughts drowned them out.

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