#whatever pops up after this is on queue

[artemiseamoon]

It seems coming on here was a mistake today

Within 5 minutes-

P*dro fandom stuff that gives me the ick

P*dro character art with pale skin (made him white pretty much)

Two reader fics (back to back) with very skinny white girls in the headers and fic art. And fic descriptions both confirm they are reader fics, not oc.

#I’m done #that’s it for today #Jesus Christ #whatever pops up after this is on queue #like in one of them the girls waist is like a zero #I just #ahhhhhhhh

[mythvoiced]

OPEN STARTER | Baek Eunjae

"Science can explain fuck-all about bees and their fat bodies and their tiny wings, but we're definitely equipped for space-travel, sure, why not, sounds logical."

#;open starter #the social worker;eunjae #the social worker;open #you know i started writing these at around 22:50 or 10:50 PM or somewhere there #and i am very tired and have been for the past however many days #so if these one-liners seem stupid as hell please be kind to me i am just a GOON #this is eunjae energy tho don't worry the folies des hommes piss 'em off leave the moon alone #eunjae is they/them icon a social worker 27 ish somewhere they have a younger brother that #they basically raised and he depends a lot on them and they're very close so good family system #they're also a MIND READER it doesn't pop up a lot in threads because i get so excited about getting to write #their personality i forget all about the mutant aspect KJDFLSFLKFJDGFLKJ #but i'll only throw it in after prior discussion #honestly if you're familiar with apoth*cary diaries eunjae's a LOT like ma*om*ao in terms of #prioritizing and not fucking with others and display of energy #;queue #they're not even talking about whether humanity is equipped to handle space-travel in a technological sense #or even from a scientific point of view-- ATTITUDE!!! it's about ATTITUDE!!!! #humanity is still scratching their head about bees unwilling to admitt nature does whatever the fuck IT wants and not what we determine #it should do what the HELL are we gonna do in SPACE-- #it's also about the bee movie ngl

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫  

part one | part two

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

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

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

Toddlers like cookies, right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I brought cookies." 

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

Your bravado makes him laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

"She loves the floor,” he says.

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

"Yeah? What's the tab?" 

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

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

"I think those might help me out." 

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

"'Cos they're bitter?" he asks. 

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

"I'll bring chocolate chip next time." 

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

"I like sugar." 

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

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

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

You pass it to him. 

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

"You don't think it looks cruel?" 

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

"How many babies do you know?" 

"One." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yummy?" you ask.

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

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

"Do they taste like you remember?" 

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

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

One oreo, twice the cream.

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

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

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

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

"Oh." 

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

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

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

You could ruin them completely for all he cares. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He giggles at you. Hormones? Cats?

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

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

“Like what?” 

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

“I sounded pretty stupid,” you summarise. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

You're clinging to sanity. 

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

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

You're terrified. 

You've found yourself in tears, too. 

"Just tell me, baby," you plead. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a ragged breath. 

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

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

"Can I hold her?" he asks, softer. 

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

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

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

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

You nod. 

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

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

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

"Yeah." 

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

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

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

Eddie stands by your side, waiting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah. A hair." 

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

"Stay there," you say without any explanation. 

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

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

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

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

"A hair remover." 

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

"How long does it take?"

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

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

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

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

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

You take the hair between your nails and pull.

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

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

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

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

"I don't feel well." 

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

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

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

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

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

You're trying very hard to calm down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe. Does it matter?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't be." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No.” Your chest burns.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do I look that bad?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No socks," she agrees. 

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

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

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

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

She sighs. You sigh too. 

Eddie hums from the kitchen. 

He kissed my knee.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You can cook," you say, surprised. 

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

"I doubt it's gross." 

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

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

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

He taps his nose. You pass Junie her spoon.

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

"So don't look. Eat." 

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing." You laugh under your breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's embarrassing in its intensity. 

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

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

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

“If you’re sure,” you say. 

“Positive.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looks at you curiously. 

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

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

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

"Hey, junebug," you hear Eddie murmuring. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eddie.”

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

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

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

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

“You first. Where’re her shoes?” 

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

I don’t want to carry it, you’d said. 

Don’t patronise me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asks. 

"There’s, like, a thousand steps.”

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

“Is there a way around?”

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

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

He grins like a fiend. “I’m strong.”

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

“Maybe we should find another way.”

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

You blow air out of the side of your mouth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bussing? Sure. Why’d you ask?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t feel better. “No, ‘cos-”

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

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

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

“Like we’re twelve?” you deflect. 

“Yeah, like we’re twelve.”

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

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

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

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

“No. I don’t deny it.”

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

You nod happily, warm under his touch.

Wait. “What?”

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

“Eddie!”

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

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

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

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

“Can I get in on one of those?”

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

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

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

He shrugs. "Bookstore's a bookstore." 

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

"King of the Rings," he repeats jovially. 

"Whatever it's called." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The further you read the closer he gets.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

“And they were awesome."

“Eddie,” you complain softly. 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t like McDonald’s?” he asks. 

“I’m really not hungry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"D'you have fun? Powder your noses?" 

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

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

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

"Okay," she says. 

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

You kiss her cheek. 

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

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

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

"Grand," Eddie praises. 

"What did you want to come here for?" 

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

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

"Why'd they have so many?" 

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

"So these are knock-offs?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Who's that?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You want?" he asks. 

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

He gasps. "What?" 

"I can afford that one myself." 

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

"They won't." 

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

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

You see your saving grace across the way. 

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

Junie perks up. 

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

"What?" she asks. 

"I saw… teddies!" 

"Mr. Bear?" she asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And if she gets dermatitis?" 

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

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

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

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

"Shit, really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Best day ever. 

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

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

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

You can't afford all three. 

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

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

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

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

"Eddie," you say again, quietly. 

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

"Really?" 

"Only for the rabbit." 

You purse your lips to fight a smile. 

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

"A rash." 

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

You laugh. "Poor baby." 

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

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

"He thought you were hurting yourself?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are pretty funny," you say.

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

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

"Yeah, you should've." 

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

"Will she wake up?" Eddie asks quietly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You want me to drive?" you ask. 

"No, sweetheart. You're good." 

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

"Eddie…" 

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

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

You waver. 

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

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

"I'll crawl." 

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

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

"Crawling," he murmurs smugly. 

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

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

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

"Eddie," you start. 

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

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

"Now you're getting it." 

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

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

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

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

I didn't force him. He likes me. 

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

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

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

"Of course you can." 

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

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

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

"Eager to get back?" 

"Eager as a cry for life. Try it." 

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

"I'll try that one after you." 

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

"Leave some for me." 

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

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

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

"I think so." 

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

"What?" 

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

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

"A long time ago." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cake?" she asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

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

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

[samkerrworshipper]

acl’s | sam kerr x reader

this is me trying to work through my devastation but it’s 3am, i’m crying and writing this on my phone. :( it’s a blurb btw

you have to admit the timing of the call should be a little bit of a shock.

it doesn’t cross your mind when your girlfriends contact pops up on your phone, but in hindsight it probably should.

it’s not odd for sam to call you multiple times a day when she’s away on camp, if she has a spare minute here or there, so you are delighted when you see her face pop up on your screen.

you press the green button almost immediately, pulling your phone up to rest at your ear.

“Hiya chook, how’s the weather treating you?”

When you don’t get an immediate response you become a little bit worried, but nothing abnormal.

“Y/n? It’s Emma here.”

It’s when the voice of your fiancés coach hits your ears that you are immediately worried.

“Emma, what can I do for you?”

You’ve talked to Emma hundreds of times, but you can tell from her voice that this is different.

“Look, Sam’s just come off the pitch after a little incident, it’s looking like she’s done her ACL.”

Your gut wrenches, and it takes all of your power to stop your lunch from pouring out across the dining table your sat at.

“What?”

Your head immediately begins to reel, 9 months. That’s the Olympics, Emma’s last season at Chelsea, so many things that Sam has over this year that are now done.

Your mind goes back to Sam’s previous ACL injury, how she’d talked about how it had been the hardest thing mentally and physically for her, that it was almost the end of her career.

“It’s not looking good, we’ll have to wait until she’s had scans to confirm the severity but both her and our doctors are fairly certain it’s her cruciate ligament.”

You take a deep breath, fuck.

“Okay, okay. Is she okay?”

It’s a stupid question, of course she isn’t okay, she’s done her fucking acl, but your concern goes further than her obvious injury.

“She’s in a lot of pain, and she’s pretty torn up. Millie has been keeping her company but all she wants to do is talk to you.”

You nod your head, you know you shouldn’t have to prepare yourself to talk to her but you take your time to take a deep breath, keep yourself strong for her.

“Can you put her on for me please, Emma?”

You hear some bustling around.

“Of course, she wanted me to call you to get the facts straight, but i’ll put her on now.”

You hear a little bit more bustling before complete silence, and that seems to be your queue.

“Sammy, honey?”

You hear a deep, laboured breath crackling from the other side of the phone.

“I’m here.”

Her words are strung out, you know that Sam will be trying her hardest to keep it together, she simply isn’t one to be publicly over emotional, no matter the situation.

“Hi honey.”

You know the best thing right now is to leave her to talk about her injury, you leave ghe ball in her court.

“My whole year is over.”

You hear her voice break, and you know that she’s crying even though you can’t hear any sobs or evidence of tears.

“I’m right here chook, so are all the girls, whatever you need.”

When you hear a sob, it takes everything you have to not start crying with her.

“Need to see you, need you here.”

Sam’s not a needy person, so to hear her asking for something like this is concerning to you.

“How about I turn on facetime chook, will that make you feel a bit better?”

When you hear a little murmur of a ‘yes’ you click the button, waiting for it to connect once she accepts the request.

It’s a matter of seconds before you are met with the visual of Sam, her head resting on Millie's shoulder on a physio bed, tears cascading freely down her olive skin.

“Oh Sammy honey.”

She only begins to cry more, and you are fairly certain once this call ends you’ll be rushing straight to the bathroom to expel all of the bile that’s built up in your throat.

“I’m supposed to be captain, I need to be okay, I need to play the olympics, I couldn’t play the fucking world cup. This could be my last major tournament.”

You want to tell her that she’s being ridiculous, but it would achieve nothing, Sam needs to feel validated in her feelings right now, not like you and the whole world are against her.

“Sam this isn’t your fault, you couldn’t have avoided it, it was just a stupid freak accident, unfortunately it happens in the sport you play.”

Sam looks so broken, Millie’s matching her energy, the normally energetic blonde looking very sullen.

“What if this is it for me?”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, it’s a stupid statement but a very real feeling that Sam has.

“Sam, how about I come to Morocco? I’ll catch the next flight out, and i’ll come and be there for you, is that something you want?”

You don’t want to step over her boundaries, but just the look on her face tells you that she needs to be comforted, she needs to cry and whilst her teammates are great, Sam is never going to be that vulnerable in front of them.

“You don’t have to.”

Her own statement contradicts every single feeling you can see inside her.

“I want to.”

Sam’s tears only begin to fall heavier.

“Please, I need you.”

#woso #woso community #sam kerr appreciation post #sam kerr imagine #i love sam kerr #samantha may #sweet sam #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr #screaming crying throwing up #woso imagine #woso imagines #chelsea wfc #chelsea women #acls #fuck acls

[yelenasdiary]

in response to that hilarious pic of flo, maybe the prompt could be Flo giving an interview to the reader but she’s not listening to the questions because she’s distracted by the readers looks? maybe reader even “tricks” Flo into answering “yes, of course” to a “will you go out with me?” question because reader knows Flo is not paying attention to their questions? 😂 can’t wait to read whatever you pick!

Drabble || Trick Question

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Summary: You've got the opportunity to interview Florence Pugh and Timothée for the new Dune movie, when you notice that Florence is struggling a little to focus on the interview you take a leap into the deep end and try to draw her attention back to the interview.

Fluff

Warnings: None, this isn't proof read or corrected! | 0.5K

AC: I fell inlove with this idea the moment I read it! Thank you for sending it, I hope you enjoy!! x Post in question

"My next question is for you, Florence" you said with a soft smile. The actress whom had been in and out of this entire interview. The first you thought maybe you had asked something she didn't feel comfortable to answer but as the interview went on you soon noticed how she was unable to keep her eyes off you.

Florence tilted her head slightly, as if to tell you to go ahead with your question. "Did you get a chance to learn how to sand walk from Timothée?" you asked. Timothée laughed, shaking his head. His laugh brought Florence's attention back to the interview, she chuckled. "Unfortunately not, but it does look really cool!" she replied.

"Good to have you back on earth!" Timothée joked, poking fun at his friend. Florence threw him a cheeky side eye and chuckled.

"I agree! it does look really cool" you commented before moving onto the next question on your queue cards.

After a few more questions for Timothée and Florence, you wrapped up the typical questions and had a few minutes left to play a little game with the cast.

"We have a few minutes left so I thought we could play a little trivia question game" you suggested.

"Sounds fun, let's do it!" Timothée smiled.

"I'm in!" Florence added.

"Sweet! The first question is, which animal has ten hearts?" you asked. Florence frowned instantly as she tried to think of the answer, meanwhile Timothée only needed a few short seconds to have the answer pop into his head. "Ten hearts? god, that's a lot" Florence commented, "do you know?" she asked, looking to her friend and cast member.

"Yeah, it's the earthworm!" He replied.

"That's correct!" you smiled. Florence looked to be in disbelieve but the moment her eyes landed on your smile, her mind went blank. "What is the run time of the first Dune?" you asked.

You noticed Timothée's eyes widen while he racked his brain for an answer but Florence didn't react, she just looked at you with a soft smile tugging at her lips. Timothée soon noticed that Florence was once again caught in the beautiful of your eyes but didn't say anything to pull her attention back to the little game.

"I wanna say it's like three hours and fifth teen minutes" Timothée replied, completely unsure of this answer. "Florence? your thoughts?" he asked.

"Uh? oh, I think it's like two hours and forty five minutes" she quickly replied.

"You were very close, it's run time is two hours and thirty five mines!" you said before taking a quick look at your queue cards once more but once again, Florence's attention was quickly shifted back to you.

"This one is more for Florence, again" you started, just to make sure that Florence's attention was else were, and it was. "Would you like to get dinner after this?" you asked.

Florence nodded, "yes, I love too" she replied, "wait, could you please repeat that?" she added, leaning slightly forward. Both you and Timothée broke into laughter making Florence's cheeks to turn redder than ever.

"You need to pay better attention" Timothée teased.

Florence chuckled, "if you were serious about that question, I meant it, I would love too" she said, looking back at you.

Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @caporal-nino | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @itsmelulu | 

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#yelenasdiary asks #anon #fanfiction #florence pugh #florence pugh x reader

[kirstydreaming]

My blog ShakingTheTree was terminated last week for "posting sexually explicit materials". I refute this in the strongest terms. It would appear that someone claimed the picture above was "sexually explicit" - clearly this was upheld, and my blog duly terminated. No warnings, no appeals.

Does tumblr really think that the well know American actress, Sydney Sweeney would pose for sexually explicit photos, whilst fully dressed, whilst on the way to the Tonight talk TV show (in which she wears this outfit). The photo was an clipped edit of one from Sydney's instagram page (https://www.instagram.com/p/CdHYzzTrO8o/). Do they think she would post sexually explicit photos to her instagram page? And if she did - do they think instagram would tolerate that ?

After notifying me of the termination by email, Tumblr are not engaging with my email requests to review the decision, so it seems the termination is final.

ShakingTheTree was the third blog of mine to be deleted in the last 2.5 years with a total following of about 210K. It took a lot of time & work to build up those sort of figures. It begs the question of why bother remaining on this platform at all when a blog can be randomly closed down like this - it's positively Kafkaesque!

I'm going to take sometime to decide what to do with this remaining blog. Maybe tumblr will see this or something else sexually explicit like a fully dressed lady in an evening gown and terminate vivalabella - whatevs. Termination seems inevitable for any actively posting blog. I have a few things remaining in the queue which I'll let run on till it's done.

I'm not sure when/if I'll be back. Many thanks to all my followers and rebloggers over the years and all my different blogs.

2023/09/29 Update - thanks for all your supportive comments. I’ve popped in after about a month and see that shakingthetree has been reinstated at some stage - going to check email to see their reasoning now. Maybe I will hang around a bit after all!

Update: so tumblr terminated shakingthetree after my first post after being reinstated! This time the reason they cobbled together was that I was spamming and posting deceptive links for money making purposes! The links were simply model & photographer’s attribution- something they actively request in the community posting guidelines. But they won’t engage with me as they won’t talk to anyone they have terminated for this offence! Kafkaesque or what!

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

Unwanted

Pairing- Tsu'tey x dreamwalker!reader

Summary- Tsu'tey has fallen in love with someone the one species he hates with all his heart.

A/N- also thank you @eywas-heir for helping me come up with who to write this for 🤭

After you and your colleague Jake Sully had to run from a thantor and survive through the night in Pandora, you were saved by a woman and a man. The woman was a beauty, blue skin illuminating in the moonlight, braids. And the man was just as gorgeous, little white freckles on his face and body, even with the deep scowl on his face you cheeks lit up a little when his eyes turned to yours.

"You two are like babys, always stepping on things don't know what to do." The woman hissed, "Come on we have to take them to Mo'at see what we must do, if the great mother has mercy she may kill them." The man said and your ears perked, killed. "Eywa has chosen them we can't kill them." She said. "Yeah I'll just wait for Grace and the tea-" You say walking backwards from the other three. "No sky-demon you will come." The man hisses at you gripping your arm.

And with that Mo'at, the Tsahik inspected you and said that you will learn the ways of Omaticaya. "You Neytiri will teach this JakeSully." She says hushing her daughter up before she could complain. "And you," she pointed at the man who brought you here "will teach this Y/NL/N." The older woman said and Tsu'tey only scoffed.

Then they made you put the traditional clothes on, both you and Jake pulled in the clothing getting popped by Tsu'tey and Neytiri. You ate with the two and you saw Jake trying to spark conversation with his teacher you thought you should do the same.

"So what your name." You say picking at the fruit peel you had in your hand. He stuck a little bit of food in his mouth, "Tsu'tey." He said. "Tsu'tey." You mummer memorizing it, "Cool." You say picking up fruit. "Whatever demon." He said making you furrow your brows, "Asshole." You think.

It was a few weeks, when you weren't in your avatar you were with Jake and Norm learning the Na'vi language and traditions barely having time to sleep. And when you were in your avatar it wasn't easy, Tsu'tey made sure of it. Anytime you messed up a menacing chuckle would erupt from him, or he would say "You should leave." "You'll never be one of us demon." And honestly you tried to ignore it, you really did. But you got tired of it.

You picked up a arrow putting it on the bow and try to hit the target missing it by millimeters. "You are terrible just give it up." He laughs and you grunt at his words picking another one up. "Yeah I'm sure you weren't Robin Hood when you started." You scoff focusing on the target again. "I do not know what this stupid sky demon you talk off." He says before walking off.

You didn't know it but Tsu'tey was going insane. Everytime he looked at you his heart felt like it was going to explode of his chest. When you smiled at someone or when a male Na'vi would flirt with you he got this unsettling feeling his his stomach. He didn't get it, he hated you he thought but your dazzling eyes, soft body, caring words he couldn't help it but love you, and he hated himself and you for it.

He only had one idea and that was to go to the Tree of Souls and may Eywa have mercy on him.

He says down in front of the tree connecting his queue to the tree, smiling as he hears the voices of his ancestors. He took a deep breath, "Great mother why do I feel these things for this sky woman." He says quietly. "Have I done something to upset you." He says, he took one last breath before disconnecting from the tree and begins walking back to Hometree.

And then he saw you with another male, he felt that unsettling feeling again. Then he saw he was giving you a flower, what! He stomped over, his nose was moving at the overflowing emotions in him. "Go." He said to the male.

Tsu'tey was an intimidating man you can give him that, so the male quickly gave you the flower and ran off. "Thank you." You yell to the running male. Tsu'tey turned to you, Eywa you were gorgeous why did you have to be so beautiful. He grips your arm and drags you somewhere secluded despite your protest.

"What the hell was that!" You say when you finally stopped in the middle of the forest. "Why were you talking to him?" He asked making you confused. "He was asking me about going to the tree of souls tonight I do not know wh-" getting cut off before you could finish your sentence. "The Tree of Souls oh that skwang, he was trying to mate with you." Tsu'tey said jaw clenching at the thought.

"Why do you care?" You say getting angry at his angered state that he has no right to. "Because-" he began to speak but he was going to slow for your patience. "You have no right to be angry first I try to be nice and you are mean for no reason and now you are getting mad because a man asked me to go somewhere." You say face flushed in anger. "So why do you care?" You ask once again this time letting him speak. His hand ran over his face and he scrunched his face in anger.

"Because!" He yelled making you jump.

"Because, you are the bane of my existence," he said. "And the objects of all my desires." He said in a low voice eyes never leaving yours. You looked at him and stepped closer and then he stepped closer, your hands and body's inches apart. Lips closer and closer.

"We should not do this." He whispered breath hitting your lips. "No we shouldn't." You say eyes hypnotized by his lips. "I am to be the next Olo'eyktan and you are of the sky it is wrong." He said body begging to be on yours. "It is wrong." You say. "I don't care." He said hands wrapping around your face and captured your lips with his.

A firework lit inside of you holding onto his muscular arms as your head and lips moved along with him. It was a prolonged kiss neither of you wanting to pull away but needing to.

Finally both of you pulled from the kiss still holding each other and you smiled at him. "You are a very stupid man Tsu'tey." You laugh patting his chest and he smiles and tilts his head up, "Is that so?" He laughs and grabs your chin in between his fingers you shake your head, "Yes." You whisper. His smile grows as his lips connect once more with yours.

#avatar 2022 #avatar 2 #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar way of water #awotw x reader #awotw #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu'tey x you #avatar x reader fluff #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar x reader

[george-weasleys-girl]

Ohhh would you be able to do one with reader helping George (long term partner) at the shop. He witnesses how she is with younger kids and just ✨️baby fever✨️ . Queue Fred teasing him about it.

I love this so much! Thank you for requesting it!

Baby Fever

George stood enthralled at the sight of Y/N sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping a couple of the younger kids pick out some age-appropriate items. One of them had crawled into her lap and was giggling at something she'd said.

Y/N and George had gotten married a little over six months ago, after five years together. They both wanted children, but they also wanted to enjoy married life for a year or two before starting a family.

George was beginning to think that was far too long to wait.

"Hey Georgie," Fred walked up beside him. "Wanna join us back down here on earth?"

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Be right there," George mumbled, his eyes still glued to his wife, who now had both kids sitting on her lap, all three in the throes of uncontrollable giggling.

Unable to pull his gaze away from his wife, the only coherent thought in George's brain at that moment was how much he wanted to watch his wife doing this with their children. His heart was almost bursting just thinking about it.

"She's good with kids," Fred observed. "Ready to pop one in the oven, yeah?"

That caught George's attention. "Pop one in the--?? What are you talking about?"

"Business is kinda slow today, I could let you two have the rest of the afternoon off." Fred waggled his eyebrows.

George opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by a customer approaching Fred asking about Skiving Snack Boxes.

"Right over here, my friend," Fred replied, giving George a quick wink before guiding the customer away.

~•~

"I think someone in this room, who will remain nameless, has baby fever." Fred teased. The store was closed, and the twins were working on some paperwork in the office before calling it a night.

"I have no idea what you're babbling on about." George commented.

"Oh no, of course not. There's no reason for you getting all starry-eyed every time Y/N was helping the little ones."

"It's just cute, is all." George argued.

"Uh-huh," Fred replied, a devilish grin on his face. "I'm your twin, remember. You can't hide from me."

George sighed and put down his pen. "Ok, fine. Maybe a little."

"I knew it!" Fred laughed. "And it's more than just a little. You were wandering around like Mr. Dopey McDope Face half the day."

George looked at his twin but said nothing and attempted to go back to his paperwork.

But Fred had other plans.

"Hey, what's that muggle poem?" Fred asked. "You know the one. 'George and Y/N sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Georgie with a baby carriage.' "

"Who's got a baby carriage?" Y/N stepped through the doorway and headed straight to the safe to lock up the till.

"No one!" George answered just a little too quickly, earning a momentary cock of the eyebrow from his wife.

As soon as she turned her back, Fred put his arms together and began rocking them back and forth in a cradling motion, humming a wizarding lullaby.

"Shut up!" George hissed, slapping his brother in the arm.

"What's going on with you two?" Y/N turned around to take in the twins.

"Nothing," said George, his ears tinged pink.

"That's right," Fred concurred. "Nothing going on here."

"Right..." Y/N replied, absolutely certain there was something going on here. But whatever. She'd find out eventually. George couldn't keep a secret from her if his life depended on it. "I'm gonna go see if Verity needs any help and leave the two of you to continue doing nothing."

~•~

George watched his wife sleeping, the moonlight shining through the window, highlighting her soft features, making them almost dreamlike. He couldn't help but smile at that. From the moment they met, Y/N was like a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

Scooting closer, he pulled her into his arms. She mummered something but didn't wake up. George kissed the top of her head, then rested his cheek against it, thinking about what Fred had said.

His twin was right. George had baby fever, and he had it bad. All throughout dinner, he was silently picking out names, his mind swirling with thoughts of lullabies and diapers and his baby's laughter mingling with his and Y/N's.

He couldn’t envision a life more perfect.

Now, all he had to do now was find the right moment to tell Y/N that he was ready to start a family.

~•~

The house smelled divine when she woke up the next morning. George was already up and making his self-proclaimed "world famous" waffles. Y/N had been craving them for a while, and he'd promised to make them for her on their next day off.

"Anything in particular you'd like to do today, love?" George asked over breakfast.

"Well, I need to go shopping for a gift for Anna's baby shower."

"Ooh, that sounds fun!" George grinned. "Mind if I tag along?"

"Of course!" Y/N smiled at his unexpected enthusiasm. "I love your company."

~•~

It was the most fun Y/N'd had on a shopping excursion in quite a while. They looked at all the cribs and bassinets and talked about which ones they liked best, tried out different rocking chairs, and gushed over all the cute clothes and toys. It was almost as if they were the ones having the baby. Y/N left the store feeling hopeful that George might be ready to start a family.

Because that could be happening far sooner than either one had expected or intended.

Her period was late.

Very late.

She'd already bought several pregnancy tests and was just waiting for the right time to tell George.

Maybe tonight was the night.

~•~

George had put Y/N into a lovely bubble bath as soon as they got home, knowing she would soak for a long while, giving him time to think. Or panic.

After spending half the day looking at baby things, his baby fever had kicked in to overdrive. He knew before they even left the store that he was telling her tonight.

Pacing from one end of the living room to the other, George tried to figure out the best way to say what he needed to say.

"Y/N, I'm ready to start a family."

"I want to start a family, love."

"How do you feel about having a baby sooner than we planned?"

"If you're not ready, it's ok--"

"Georgie," Y/N's soft voice called to him from her bath.

~•~

As soon as George had left her to soak, Y/N quietly got out of the tub and grabbed the pregnancy test she'd snuck in.

On the way home, she'd decided it'd be best to take the test first to see she even needed to broach the subject.

After doing the deed, she slipped back into the bath, placing the test on the little table next to the tub, and attempted to relax for fifteen minutes.

It was the longest fifteen minutes of her life.

~•~

"Whatcha need, love?" George asked, coming into the bathroom.

"Can we talk? I have a bit of a surprise for you."

"Of course, darling. As it happens, I need to talk to you too," he said before he lost his nerve.

George sat next to the tub. "Which one of us should go first?"

"Umm, I don't know," Y/N began. "Maybe we can do it like they do in the movies. Say it at the same time."

"Ok," George said. "On the count of three?"

Y/N nodded.

"Ok--1‐‐2--3"

"I'm pregnant."

"I'm ready to start a family."

"What?"

"What?"

"You want to--"

"You're‐‐"

Y/N nodded as a wave of relief rolled through her.

"You're--" George repeated.

"Yes!" Y/N couldn't stop smiling.

"I--I'm gonna be a dad? And--and you're gonna be a mom?"

"Yes, Georgie," she giggled. "We're going to have a baby."

Before she realized what was happening, George had climbed into the bath, fully clothed, and pulled her into a bear hug.

After a few moments, he leaned back, his hands going straight to her belly. "We're gonna have a baby," he said again, his voice shaky, tears wetting his cheeks. "How long have you known?"

"Only a few minutes." She handed him the positive test.

"This is a dream come true, Y/N. I love you so much, sweetheart," he said as he pulled her into a kiss.

Seconds later, he suddenly broke away, eyes wide. "We've got to tell mum and dad and Fred and--"

Y/N silenced him with a kiss, finishing what they started.

"There's plenty of time for that, my love" she said when they pulled away. "But for now, why don't you get undressed and then get back in here with me. I want us to savor this moment, just you and me for a little while first."

George looked down at himself as if he just realized he was still fully clothed. "Oops," he said with a snort. "Got a little excited."

Y/N giggled affectionately. "I noticed."

Her husband stepped out of the bath and undressed, using his wand to magically clean up the mess before sliding back in behind Y/N.

"I love your idea, babe. Let's wait and tell everyone tomorrow. Tonight will be just for us. All three of us," he said, encompassing her belly with his large hands.

@princess-paramour @milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @zvummyummy @xmjthewitchx @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley headcanon #fred weasley

[tubapun]

How I think the Mane 6 would blog on tumblr

Twilight Sparkle; would have a huge tagging and side blog system for colors, themes, characters, theories, pairings, and 2 designated tags for her friends, one for their posts and one for posts that make her think of them. Does a lot of science and language posting, as well as magic. Vent posts about her studies in a very poetic way. Never hits post limit after becoming a princess cause she doesn't have the time

Pinkie Pie; only tags she uses are various emojis and keysmashes, but if you take time to translate them you find that the emojis do actually have a system and many refer to her friends. Reblogs basically everything and anything so long as it makes her laugh, hits post limit a lot and has a queue that will never empty. Occasionally you'll see the most amazing baked goods ever made with the caption "made this for funsies lmao 😂😂😋😋"

Rainbow Dash; tags her interests, which means she has a wonderbolts tag, a weather tag, and a daring do tag. Otherwise she just scrolls and reblogs with occasional commentary, fairly standard user. Lots of wlw stuff tho, and a sideblog full of frou frou stuff she likes but doesn't want anyone to know about. She posts stunt fails a lot, but not hers. Lots of fanfic links tho. Hits post limit once or twice a month, more on DD release months

Fluttershy; very aesthetic based, literal cottage core. But also occasionally you'll see death metal and chaos stuff pop up because she meant to put em on a side blog but just can't always remember. No ask box at all cause she can't deal with answering them. When she hits post limit she apologizes for disappearing the next day. Tag system is mostly about animals, which she'll sometimes tack on facts about

Rarity; has a whole fashion blog with tags based on fabrics, jewels, seasons, the whole nine yards. She also reblogs aesthetic food pics, mostly sundaes. She only answers mean anons cause she gets to crytype her answers and it's a fun easy way to vent. Has a sideblog that she uses to post stuff pinkie tags her in cause she's very fond of her but by celestia that's not going on her main. Doesn't hit post limit

Applejack; has posted once, a single picture of an out of focus apple with her reflection in it, very clearly trying to figure out how camera work. The caption is "apnle tiem" because she can't type with her hooves damnit, everyone else uses their fancy magic or wings or whatever pinkie does, and she doesn't care enough to learn now, she only joined cause pinkie looked at her real sad cause she wanted to follow all her friends

#mlp #applejack is canon btw if you take the equestria girls one at face value

[pinklemonadeflav]

Don't hold back

You wouldn't call yourself a particularly 'expressive' person. So while you and Soonyoung have been dating for almost a year, he sometimes feels that you're holding back...

Persona: Soonyoung

☁︎ ℳ

wc: 4.8k (2.4k fluff, 2.4k smut)

boyfriend! Soonyoung x reader, small talk about vulnerability, mild comfort fluff, first time saying 'I love you', first time together (also reader's first proper relationship), smut

Content notes: reader struggles with openness, very much an acts-of-service typa person, Soonyoung uses pet names while reader doesn’t really

<Read under the cut>

"Babe, do you have a sore throat?"

Soonyoung, Jeonghan, Wonwoo and you had just gotten off a rollercoaster ride, slightly breathless and limbs jelly, when your boyfriend in the tiger-print shorts popped the question.

Jeonghan offers his water bottle to you as a follow-up, but you just lift one brow and shake your head.

"I'm fine? Why?”

"Oh, I was just wondering why you were silent throughout the whole ride – cause you said you weren't scared of rollercoasters."

10 minutes ago, your gang of 14 had split into groups to wander the park; Mingyu, Vernon, Woozi, and Seungcheol went off to raid the hot dog stand. Jun, Myungho, Joshua, and Chan headed for the bumper cars, and the rest of you left to queue for the rollercoaster. (Seungkwan and Seokmin left shortly after hearing the terrified screams of the riders overhead, shamelessly lying that "ooh the gift store looks interesting!")

Truthfully, you wish you had joined them, but Soonyoung had been going on and on about how excited he was to ride the rollercoasters in the car earlier (this park was famous for housing six uniquely terrifying death machines! Fun!). You got excited because he was, but not so much when you stepped into the rollercoaster's seat and stared down the steep drop ahead.

You quickly protest, "I'm not scared of them! I'm just not a screamer, that's all."

"Yea right, you had a death grip on the bars, and I'm pretty sure your eyes were shut the whole time too." Jeonghan takes a sip of his water and exposes you, having sat beside you in the second row.

Wonwoo adds, "I'm also not a screamer, but even I made some noise."

Soonyoung wraps his arms around your shoulders from behind and lets out a dramatic whine, "Aww, was my baby scared? You'll feel better if you don't hold it back, just scream with us!"

Your ears redden at the sudden embrace, mouth frozen in a half-open position. You wouldn't go as far to say you're against Soonyoung's shows of affection in public, but you still weren't so used to them as to just play along smoothly. You sometimes feel bad when your reactions come off as awkward and Soonyoung tones it down to accommodate you. He's not one to shy away from touch, but he's been more patient with you over the course of you two dating, never pushing you to do things you wouldn't be comfortable with. You wonder how much of this is preventing you from taking your relationship to a more intimate stage.

All these thoughts are shoved into the back of your mind again as Soonyoung continues,

"Oooorrrr you can squeeze my hand on the next ride if it helps..." Both his hands jump to intertwine yours, lifting your arms up and spinning you playfully. Soonyoung had bee-lined straight for the rollercoaster's front row just now, and you would have actually imploded if you had joined him. Hence, you found your place in the second row (which wasn’t that much better).

You shimmy out of his grip with a huff and declare, "Yaa! Whatever! Let's just get to the next one!"

And on to the next rollercoaster you went, and the one after that, and two after that. You kept your mouth shut and face scrunched throughout, visibly shaken and eyes glossy by the end of the fifth ride.

The four of you approach the last ride when you stumble a little. Soonyoung catches and stabilizes you by the hips, falling quiet for the first time in the activity-packed day as worry flashes across his face. He hugs you into his chest and sighs,

"You guys go ahead, I suddenly want some bungeoppang."

Wonwoo frowns in digust at the thought of having warm red bean bungeoppang in this afternoon's heat and grunts in response. Jeonghan just gives a knowing nod, and they head off to the last ride without you two.

As Soonyoung leads you by the hand to the snack stand, you softly say, "It's okay you know, you can join them, I know how much you looked forward to the rides...especially this last one." What would've been the sixth and final ride was the scariest in the park, being one of the tallest rollercoasters in the country.

"Nah, it's not okay, you're not okay. Let's sit down over there for abit and rest." He casually hands over some cash to the stall owner for two packs of bungeoppang, and you both settle down on a bench nearby.

A smile tugs at your lips at the fact that he actually bought the snack, and wasn't just using it as an excuse. You don’t mind the warmth of it so much even as you’re sweating buckets as you giggle at Soonyoung's stuffed cheeks.

He turns to you, “Sherioushly though, shcreaming doesh make it more fun, even if we dont get on the shuper scary ridesh.”

You pull a napkin out to wipe at the corner of his mouth, off-handedley vocalising your thoughts,

“Mm, I dunno, I just stopped like screaming-screaming at one point when I was younger. Maybe I’m just not particularly expressive in general.”

He swallows his bite, pouting at you with pinched brows, "If you're not having fun we don't have to go on these rides, just tell me!"

You don't want your mild (or not so mild) fear to get in the way of his enjoyment, so you just shrug and continue munching on your snack. The topic quickly shifts as you continue chatting, and he doesn't think too much of it while waiting for the guys to finish the last ride. Eventually, the day at the amusement park concludes when you all gather to have dinner while watching the parade, bumbling into your respective cars to head home.

Settling into the dimly-lit living room after the long day, Soonyoung picks out some B-tier romcom for you two to wind down, collecting you in his arms to lie atop him on the sofa. As the movie reaches the 45-minute mark, he suddenly thinks back to what you said about not being expressive. It prompts him to recall the past few months more deeply, and his eyebrows morph into a frown when he starts to think you’re right.

There was that one time Jeonghan and Joshua pranked you by hiding your phone, causing you to accidentally miss an important meeting call. They had faced you meekly expecting to be chewed out, but you dismissed it with a smile (though, Joshua probably caught on to your hidden annoyance because he apologized to you a second time later).

Or sometimes when Soonyoung surprised you with gifts when he got home, you would express your thanks, but there was never a big reaction.

Negative or positive, you usually felt like you were holding back somehow. Soonyoung was thrown off when he first got to know you because he himself was more of an expressive guy (definitely more than average), and it took him awhile to read your behaviour for their intentions. Overtime, he did understand that you cared, even if you didn't say it and showed it very differently from him.

That was actually what made him fall for you; You two had met in college during a group project, where there was the usual awkward silences as you got to know each other. He hadn't even revealed the loud side under his shy front yet, but you had been very friendly and thoughtful, in your actions, at least.

You were shy too and didn't say much, but he would notice the extra effort you took to bring everyone coffees during early morning meetings, or the little notes you scribbled on his notebook when he looked lost. There was that time where you even presented him with a tiger pin after observing all the tiger paraphernalia he collected. You two started to hang out more after the project ended, having mutual friends in the same tutorial group. He couldn't help but fall deeper for you when he saw how you showed your sincerity and love towards your friends through your gestures. He also realised along the way you weren't likely to outwardly express your attraction to him (if you did like him), so he took the leap and asked you out a few months after. Luckily his guess was right, and here you two are now, nearly a year into your relationship.

His eyes drift from the television screen to the crown of your head nudged under his chin. Your limbs are completely relaxed into his chest, breathing slowly and deeply. He even starts to wonder if you fell asleep when-

Sniff.

Soonyoung's body stills, wondering if he heard that correctly. On-screen, a break up scene was playing with the two leads in a dramatic confrontation, but you couldn't possibly be crying right? He doesn't think he's ever seen you tear up in a theatre, let alone be crying with your nose dripping.

When he hears another sniffling sound, he shifts you by the shoulders to get a better look. Sure enough, the television glow illuminates the faint tear tracks on your cheeks. You make eye contact with him and let out a wet laugh at his shocked expression.

"Sniff- What? You've never seen someone cry before?" You lift a finger to close his gaping mouth, to which he immediately cranks back open,

"I've never seen you cry before! You wouldn't even let out a peep on the rollercoaster, but this is what gets you going?"

You twist your body and bury your head in his chest out of embarrassment, and he laughs and tries to detach your upper body from his to look at your face, but you stay glued to him. He grabs the tissue box beside the sofa and stuffs tissues into the tiny gaps he can find, teasing you to show your face.

Relenting, you finally get up, picking up the tissues to wipe at your face. You blow your nose and Soonyoung waits as you hesitate to speak for a few seconds. The day has worn you down, and your brain's capacity to overthink has diminished too. Being alone with Soonyoung in this mood gives you some courage, and you figure if you don't voice your thoughts now it would be even tougher the next time.

“Sigh... I- uh the show made me think of, what if we broke up-”

“Y-you want to break up?”

Soonyoung shoots up from the couch, eyes immediately welling and bottom lip trembling,

“I promise you we don’t ever have to go near a roller coaster again! You’re right, they’re all stupid death machines, I won’t even look at one-“

You shake your head and laugh softly, putting one hand on his chest to stop him.

"Nonono- Soonyoung wait- it’s not that. I mean, not actually break up,”

You swipe away at his tears with your thumb,

“It’s just that, the show reminded me of some things I do that feel...unfair? Sometimes I feel that I'm not being good enough to you, like I know I don't voice out my thoughts or uh- appreciation for you a lot, and many times I don't even know how to respond. I find it hard to…open up and be vulnerable I guess. Even us, this is my first real relationship, and it's probably taken this long in the first place because of my exact problem. I mean, I'm trying to be a bit better about it, but I don't want you to feel bad when you've been so patient with me..."

You're starting to ramble a little, and he shifts you lower on his lap so you can both sit comfortably. He places his hands on your knees and squeezes them, softly reassuring you,

"Darling, I know you're trying your best, you don't have to be so hard on yourself. I also want you to know that I do receive your feelings perfectly well. Every thing you do to show them, small or big, matters to me and I don't want you to feel pressured just because I'm more, well, expressive?"

You sigh, hands over his, frowning as your fingers trace patterns into the back of his palm.

"That……but I also don't want you to change how you express yourself or even tone yourself down for me. I swear, it doesn't pressure me or anything because I know how sincere you are and how much you just want to show you care about me,"

You pause to let out a shaky breath, swallowing the lead in your throat before continuing,

"and I love you for who you are. So, just be you, and I- I’ll catch up, yea?"

You hold his gaze, the sounds from the movie filling up the following silence. Your heart is beating rapidly at the words that left your mouth, but your shoulders feel lighter after mustering your courage and saying it. He's blinking repeatedly too, processing what you had just said.

"Did you- just, did you say-"

You had never said the 'L' word directly to him before. Soonyoung had first said it to you 4 months ago, to which you got so emotional that you reacted by pulling him into a searing kiss, forgetting to even say it back. Since then, it came out of his mouth occasionally when he couldn't help it; when he was happy to wake up in the morning next to your gorgeous self (face puffy and hair a mess), when he got excited describing you to his friends and how lucky he was to have you, sometimes even singing his love for you when he was doing mundane tasks. Every time you would feel like something’s stuck in your throat, overwhelmed to properly say it back.

The fact that you had said 'I love you' this time without any prompt stuns him, and tears well up again in his eyes. He unfreezes quickly though, letting out an ecstatic "I LOVE YOU TOOOOO!!!", pouted lips turning into a kiss-attack on your face before tackling you into a hug. You laugh as your back lands on the soft plush of the sofa, his weight pressing into you.

You return a kiss of your own on his lips, fingers gliding from his cheeks to the hair at his nape. He continues humming a muddled ‘I love you I love you’ into your mouth while reciprocating.

As your innocent kiss becomes a more sensual one, he feels heat surge in his abdomen at an alarming rate, getting harder against your thigh. You haven't done it with each other yet, and he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable, so he starts to shift his hips off of yours, but your arms hold him in place.

Your faces part a few millimetres as you pant into each other, and you stare at his wet, pink lips before looking up to his eyes.

He asks, "Are you sure? We don’t have to if you don’t feel ready.”

You don't waste a second in nodding, "I’m ready Soonyoung, I want to.”

Those words propel him into action. One hand finds the small of your back, the other the side of your thigh, and he presses his length against your core, feeling your warmth under him.

You let out a moan as his mouth travels down your throat to your collarbones, sucking and licking at the blossoming pinks and purples. You start tugging the hem of your shirt up to give him more access, and he assists by pulling it over your head.

Bare underneath, Soonyoung sucks a breath in through his teeth at the sight of your breasts, nipples pebbled and chest moving steadily with your panting. You bashfully tug at his shirt, and he obliges by ripping it off and tossing it on the arm of the sofa.

His hands travel up your sides to your breasts, taking them into his fingers and kneading while he lowers his head to lave his tongue over your sensitive nipple. Your torso bucks up a little into his touch and he smirks, landing kisses to each mound before continuing to kiss a trail down your body

His movements stop above the elastic of your pajama pants, and the momentum comes to a pause as he looks at you with waiting eyes.

You gulp and nod at him to continue, and he follows suit; pulling your bottoms and panties down in one go, he licks his lips, looking like a man possessed,

“Pretty and wet just for me…”

Your eyebrows shoot up and you let out an embarrassed whine at his comment, but it’s cut short when he dives in and licks a broad stripe up your folds to your clit, turning your whine into a moan.

Slow movements turn into kitten-licks on your sensitive nub before he latches his lips onto it and sucks, hard. Your legs clamp inwards reactively, but he pins them down with his hands and you’re left to squirm in his hold. Pressure continually builds on your clit as his tongue rolls around and pokes at its centre, and once he feels you’re not bucking up as hard, his right hand moves downwards.

He inserts two fingers into your hole, deeper than you ever could’ve alone, and they curl upwards in time with his tongue on your clit. It takes a few thrusts and movements of his fingers to find the right spot, but once he succeeds in finding the spongey patch inside you, the combined internal and external stimulation has you crying out and sinking your fingers into his hair. Your moans grow louder and more frequent as the knot inside you tightens.

Your noises sound like music to Soonyoung’s ears – if he can get you to be this expressive and sound so drowned in ecstasy everyday, he would (and he plans to).

A few more twirls of his tongue and far-reaching movements of his fingers have you shuddering as you cum. His fingers continue to rhythmically stroke your fluttering insides to help you ride it out as your lower body stutters to a stop on the sofa. His tongue replaces his fingers to catch the wetness dripping out, saving your sofa cushion some cleaning (and maybe he did it more so that he can feel you squirm around his face).

He finally pulls his tongue out and sits back on his knees when he hears your voice pitch higher. You’re panting hard and watching as he lifts his fingers up into his mouth, licking at your slick and sucking them dry.

You want more, but your pussy could use a few minutes to recover from Soonyoung’s mouth (you didn’t think your first sexual experience would have you coming this hard, but your boyfriend’s a very determined man with very clear goals).

You climb off the sofa with slightly-shaky legs, invoking a weird sense of pride within him, but he’s also confused as to why you’re getting up. You gesture for him to sit and he does, ending up with you kneeling on the floor between his knees,

“Soonyoung can I…I want you in my mouth.”

God, you’re killing him.

Your shy but unexpected assertion turns his face red and he stammers to answer, resorting to shimmying his white sweatpants off quickly as a response. His dick springs up to slap at his stomach, standing lean and long, and you can’t help but drool a little at it’s pretty pink colour.

Precum leaks from the seam, which you use to help stroke him up and down. Your tongue escapes your mouth to lick up his shaft before wrapping it with your mouth, taking him in as deeply as you can.

He flinches at the warm contact on his sensitive shaft and bites his bottom lip, an instinctive reaction to suppress his moans. Your brows furrow slightly, can’t have him holding himself back, one way or the other.

Truth is, you’ve always wanted to get your hands (and mouth) on him; there were many a times where he would be lounging around the apartment, and your eyes inadvertently get drawn to the bulge in his comfy shorts. It’s worse when you would be snuggling in bed in the morning, and you could feel his length poke you from behind. You were thankful then that he didn’t wake to see your ears flushed red. But with this newfound courage, you realise it doesn’t really matter if he does.

Plus, you want to hear what noises come out of Soonyoung under your hold. He’s often loud and playfully aggressive, but there’s also that soft side of him when he takes care of you. You want to know what he’s like when you’re taking care of him.

Here he is, a panting mess, trying to hold back his sounds, stirring your insides as they drive you to keep going even though your jaw is starting to feel sore. He throws his head back on the sofa cushion with a gasp when your grip strokes the areas your tongue can’t reach, and more groans and whimpers finally leave his mouth liberally as you speed up your pace.

After a few more strokes, he pulls you off him with a cuss and comes, release landing on your cheek and chin.

He drapes one arm over his eyes as he catches his breath, and you reach over to grab some tissues from the console table to clean your face off. You finally think to turn the television off when you realise the credits are playing, and you climb back onto the sofa, straddling him.

“Soonyoung.”

You pull his arm away from his head, his eyes meeting yours. You wonder how you got so lucky to meet such a caring, passionate, and thoughtful person, and a bubbling feeling of gratitude grows in your chest at the thought that you’re allowed to love this man.

You lean in to land a kiss on his forehead, and it’s like he can read your mind and receives all your love through it. He smiles and nudges his nose into the crook of your shoulder, breathing you in, and pulls your jaw down to press his lips to yours.

Between kisses, you feel him grow back to full-length again against your ass, and you start to raise your hips above his member while still attached at the mouth. His fingers are gently kneading the flesh at your hips as you start to sink down on him, and you both lavish in the feeling of him stretching you out slowly.

A shaky breath leaves you when he bottoms out, tip nudging at your cervix, and he groans at the tight fit.

You start moving, the velvet plush of your walls dragging up his shaft. Mumblings and praises of “you’re doing so good” and “you feel amazing honey” trail out of his mouth and mix with your stuttered moans as you try your best to bounce atop him.

He feels your legs start to tremble a little from exertion and your previous orgasm, and decides to turn you onto your back with him above you. Your right leg gets hooked into the crook of his elbow, and the angle allows for him to reach much deeper into you, pound harder, and your fingers claw at the cushion’s fabric as you cry out his name repeatedly.

You’re surrounded by him as he moves, and you can’t pull your gaze off of his expression of soft adoration and intense fiery.

He’s biting his bottom lip like just now at how good you feel around him, and your hand automatically shifts to pull it out with the pad of your thumb. Your finger glides over the moist plushness to soothe it, sliding into his mouth at one particularly strong thrust, and he gently bites down on it to stifle a moan.

Maybe it’s a little hypocritical of you, but you have every mind to speak to him next time about holding back his voice. For now, you pull his face down to yours, opting to drink in his moans as a compromise instead as your tongues intertwine.

He can feel you reaching your peak as you tighten around him, fingers gliding over to where you two are connected.

He rubs tight circles around your swollen, sensitive nub as you both approach your highs. One final thrust with his full length inside and his fingers pressed to your clit pushes you over the edge, taking him with you.

His white hot spurts within you, hips drawing back and slamming against you a few more times to prolong both your orgasms.

You’re panting heavily when he pulls out, and he reaches over to brush the hair out of your face. You’re almost distracted by the sweet action when you feel another movement below. Soonyoung’s hand mindlessly continues to slide against your folds, brain still stuck on the thought of pleasuring you as he pushes the dripping cum back into your hole and you into overstimulation.

You keen and he quickly stops when he realises what he’s doing, mumbling an embarrassed ‘sorry’ before gently caressing your sides in apology. You laugh and tell him it’s alright, pulling his body closer to yours as your arms wrap around his neck.

"I don't know know why it was so hard to for me to say it, but Kwon Soonyoung, I love you, and I'm not going to hold it back anymore."

You feel his smile widen against your skin and embrace tighten around you.

“I love you always."

#hoshi #hoshi x reader #soonyoung x reader #hoshi fluff #hoshi smut #svt #seventeen #svt fluff #svt smut #fluff #smut #first time

[official-linguistics-post]

Hi! I love your blog, it always makes me so extremely happy when I find new linguistics blogs! Currently a lot of your post are sitting in my unspeakably long queue. Anyways, after seeing that freshman anon that wants to study linguistics in the future I thought that I might as well pop in and ask you my question about pursuing linguistics in college. I’m a high school senior that should (knock on wood) be starting college next year majoring in linguistics. I absolutely love linguistics and love the idea of studying it, but I’m worried that I won’t be able to actually get a decent job with it. I’m currently planning on becoming a researcher in applied linguistics, but I’m worried that that’s a bit of an unrealistic(?) plan, and I don’t know what else I’d do with linguistics if that didn’t work out for any reason. I’m just worried about putting all of my eggs into one basket I guess. Sorry that this is a bit of a vague ask that doesn’t really have a direct question, whatever insight you can give would be greatly appreciated, thank you. 

my advice is: keep your goal in mind, but don't be alarmed if/when it changes.

i planned to study linguistics from about freshman or sophomore year of high school, but i was interested in neuro- or psycholinguistics. once i got to college, i took a few courses in that direction, but the psychology part just didn't capture my attention in the same way (and let's be real i didn't want to take organic chemistry). by the time i was planning my undergrad thesis, it had pivoted to bilingual education research, and then in senior year i took one random course that skewed my trajectory completely into historical linguistics (after i finished the bilingual ed thesis, at least). i went to graduate school for that subfield—masters and phd—but now i'm burnt out on academia so i'm pivoting into public education.

it's very hard to feel like you've invested so much time in one direction that may not work out in the end, i won't lie to you. but at this very early stage in your possible future career, i encourage you to enjoy the ride where you can. take classes that sound interesting. get to know a variety of people working in the field. and explore topics off your beaten path! i've ended up working closely with archaeologists, which is very fun but also confirms that i don't want to be an archaeologist.

even if you decide not to stick with linguistics—even if you're forced out by a lack of jobs, which is not uncommon—you'll still have the experience of research and critical thinking behind you. also, linguists are fun friends.

#on a tangential note #i think we put an undue amount of stock in choosing a college major #careers change all the time! #do something you'll enjoy studying for that time and keep an open mind

[saeyoungs-angel]

⨳​ hindering studies — mha

starring. bakugou & you

plot. your grumpy bestfriend tells you he's busy after class, yet you give no fucks—letting yourself in, you wait in his dorm so you can simply vibe to his music and pen scribbling.

genre. fluff, comfort(?)

cw. swearing obviously, reader had a bad day, maybe ooc bakugou? not rly sure but kinda

notes. found a nice little video on yt that followed this plot just a bit, though ive added alot to it lol. thought sleeping in his bed while he studied sounded nice asf so here u are! feedback on how i write him is extremely helpful, and im sorry if u dont like or know these songs! u can replace them with others if ud like:)

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3

𓆩☆𓆪

“what’re you even doin’ here?”

wrapped up in his duvet, bakugou’s gruff voice drags you out of your once half-asleep state. you lift your head slightly and give him no answer, eyes raking over his mien of annoyance. he sighs, shoving off his shoes aggressively.

“you know i’m busy, so why do you keep hangin’ around like a lost puppy dog or some shit?”

his words of irritation would sting if you didn’t know any better—he enjoys your presence, atleast more than anyone else’s. he may still claim you’re an extra, but his sleepy murmurs on the nights neither of you can sleep say otherwise. you huff loud enough for bakugou to hear, his mirage of disliking you is embarrassingly fake.

“don’t mind me, i’m not even here.”

“whatever.” he grumbles, beginning the trek around his dorm to find his studying supplies. his notes, a pencil or two, and his speaker—the last part is very important. as his digits land on the object, you can’t help but sit up abruptly.

“wait! can i play a song this time, too?” your voice is woven in excitement, hoping to flaunt your music taste. while it isn't very far from his, you have a couple songs that you feel he might enjoy.

he shoots a glare your way. “no.”

he presses the on button firmly as you plead in the background, “just one! please, kats?”

“fine, just put it on the queue and go back to fuckin’ sleep so i can study.” you feverishly snatch his phone at this, bakugou grumbling once again after caving in at the use of his nickname.

handing his device back, you hands brush briefly and you have to force yourself to think of other things, a blush creeping onto your cheeks at the feeling of the minute contact. even though you’ve both fallen asleep beside each other, you still fluster easily.

hopping back into his bed, it creaks softly with the movement. as you rest your head on his pillow, a beat begins to fill the room. ghosting by mother mother, you can immediately recognize it considering you adore the song. you mumble a ‘love this song’ as you snuggle further into the sheets.

bakugou only responds with ‘tch’, but he knows you do, and that may be the reason why he’s so fond of it—you like it, of course. his brows are furrowed together as the pencil drags across his paper, faint music adding to the soothing ambience.

he slightly adjusts the volume, upping it a bit as he knows it’s not super late and no one’s sleeping. your eyes begin to feel heavy, moments before your song pops on the list.

insomniac by memo boy, your current fixation. the first few beats play out and you thrum along with it, drumming your fingers on bakugou’s silky black sheets. your eyes are now screwed shut vehemently with the music, a smile gracing your features as bakugou speaks up.

“i’ve heard this before.” his tone is efficacious at hiding how he feels about it, signaling a small frown on your face.

“do you like it?”

there’s a beat of silence from him and your frown deepens.

“..it’s okay.” this time, he sounds reluctant to admit those words. thankfully, you understand bakugou language, a grin forming on your lips as you now achieved your goal—he likes the song you showed him, and is probably adding it to his playlist.

you stifle a laugh with his pillow, “yeah, yeah. i’ll remember that when i hear it down the hall.”

“shut it, dumbass.”

you hum in acknowledgement, a wide smile plastered on your face as you shift from your previous position. as bakugou’s new favorite song ends(simply because it’s your favorite), the room quiets, save for the scribbles of his pencil here and there.

“you gonna play another song? the silence is deafening, katsuki.” while you’re only teasing, the silence does feel a bit odd—you can just slightly hear crickets chirping outside his window.

“don't be stupid, ’course i am. just go back to sleep or somethin’.” you can practically hear the miniature smile in his words, the banter between you both never fails to raise your mood and vise-versa.

with that, you register his phone being placed back down onto his desk, jealous by eyedress bouncing around the dorm. you hum along, the mellow yet vibrant beat finally enervates you into sleep.

bakugou swivels in his chair to converse with you about a question, only to find your eyes closed peacfully as soft breathes escape your barely parted lips.

being solicitous of your well-being and knowing you need the rest, he lowers the volume by a bit, eyes leering on your sleeping form for a moment more that he intended. you just look so adorable, wrapped up in his blanket so peacefully like you are—though, he’ll take that thought to his grave.

after while, you stir in your sleep, the bed creaking as extra weight is placed upon it. “katsuki..?” you murmur, raising a hand to rub your eyes.

“shh, go back to sleep, idiot.”

his voice is hushed, causing you to smile up at him in the now dark dorm-room. “m’kay.”

shuffling around to wrap your arms around him, you notice he’s adorning one of his famous tank tops. was he planning to nap with you? contently, you begin to drift off once more before his voice draws you out of sleep.

“hey, (y/n)?”

you nod into his chest, figuring he can feel it. bakugou stalls for a moment, and that’s when you realize he’s put insomniac quietly on replay. the revelation causes your heart to flutter, though you tell yourself it’s simply because he likes it enough to play it this much.

he clears his throat, “did you, um, have a shitty day or somethin’?”

his question throws you off, causing you to shift uncomfortably on his side. you nod again, before correcting yourself.

“well, i wouldn’t say it was shitty, just not ideal.”

“the way you said that frames it as a shitty day.”

“‘m sorry.” you bury yourself further into him, wishing you could just skip class tomorrow and lay in bed with him instead.

he frowns, not that you can see. “don’t apologize, dumbass. if you had a shitty day, then you had a shitty day. the thing that matters is that you got through it, alright?” he tightens his grip on your torso, rubbing your arm in attempted comfort.

even with his usually boorish attitude, he has a way with his words when he’s worried. he can feel you grin against him, and he knows he’s done a good job—he made you smile and that was his goal, now he can nap with you in peace.

𓆩☆𓆪

feedback is extremely meaningful!

#mha x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #mha fluff #mha comfort #bnha fluff #bnha comfort #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugo fluff #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugō #bakugou comfort #katsuki comfort #saeyoungs-angel

[pxgeturner]

keep you safe. keep you mine.

ghostface!miguel o'hara x reader. prologue.

you're a junior in college and you have a totally awesome boyfriend in the master's program. a girl from your school is murdered and your boyfriend is there to make sure you feel safe (college/uni!au as if its not obvious)

an. I've had this idea in my head for like a month. executive dysfunction is a little bitch so i've onlyy been able to sit down n write this today. I wrote part of it a work but most of it within the last hour. (it’s currently a bit past midnight on the first of october) which if u have been here for a while, know that’s v surprising for me. i really wanted this to be posted on the first of the month but what can u do. i’m just gonna queue it atp. this isn't very action packed bcz it's just a prologue. but im soooo excited. also, r is latina coded but can be read from any ethnic standpoint. also this has not been proofread.

warnings: r has a panic attack, mentions of death (slightly graphic description of a dead body)

wc. 1.2k

you can’t change the channel. you don’t know why. but you can’t. a girl from your university was killed just about an hour ago. you were going to turn on the run of practical magic that started about half an hour ago. you just keep watching the news-lady rehash the same information over and over again. the killer all but turned the poor girl inside out. she’s in your finance class. you worked on a group assignment with her. she’s one of those girls who tries to maintain the hierarchy of high school in college. which is total bullshit, you’re third years for crying out loud! she’s passive aggressive, sure, but she should’ve had so much more time to grow. so you’re sitting there. bundled in blankets, not able to press the button on the remote. 

PING! 

something hits the sliding glass door to the back porch. you don’t want to become chopped liver. so you stay in your seat. a few minutes pass, you think, and no more noise, so you turn back to the tv. 

thud thud. you ignore it, keeping my eyes on the screen. 

then my cell starts to ring. you jump in your seat, and search for it, lost in the blankets. It’s miguel. you pick up the call. 

“hey mickey, you scared me.”

“sorry, baby. mind opening the door? It’s a little fresh out here?”

“the slide door?”

“yeah,”

you untangle myself from the blankets and approach the glass. you turn on the outside light, and it’s him. you unlock the door and let him in. he kisses your cheek as he comes in. “hey, angel,”

“hey yourself,”

“where are your parents?” you shut the door

“concert, pop surprised mama with tickets to a merengue singer. gloria something.”

he nods and comes in to hug you. “how’s your night been angel? The news is on? why’s it still playing?” he strokes your hair “you know if you keep watching this fear mongering shit it’s gonna just make you anxious, baby.”

“yeah…” you melt into him, feeling safe with your big strong boyfriend here. “can you stay the night?”

“’course baby. anything for my sweet girl.” he leads you back to the couch, “what do you want to watch?”

“practical magic, but it’s already running.”

“don’t you have the dvd?”

“OMG YES” you jump out of your seat and dash over to the tv stand, opening the dvd stash drawer. “HERE IT IS” you wave it around in triumph before inserting it into the player. 

once you’re back on the couch your boyfriend goes “if you have it on dvd why would you watch it on cable?”

you pout at him “it felt special. like they were playing it just for me. it was the perfect time.”

he shakes his head and chuckles, “you’re just too cute, baby.”

… 

“she talked shit about you, y’know.” gwen says after she tossed a penny into the fountain. 

“what?” the two of you start walking to the dining hall

“that girl, ava whatever? she was in my drawing class after your finance class with her. she like, thought you were obsessed with her.”

you stop in your tracks. “wait. what the fuck?”

she steps back and turns to face you. “yeah. i didn’t tell you because i figured if she never said anything to your face it wouldn’t be a big issue.”

“ok…” this is confusing “a: what did she say and b: why are you telling me this?”

“she said you’d stare at her. and that you look like you look like a… what did she say?… ‘a brainless mutt’ and other shit. she only said shit like that a couple times. and i ripped her a new one both times.” she gestures for you to keep walking. you realize today they probably have pizza and she wants to get there before they run out. “i’m telling you this so you don’t feel too bad. she wasn’t some innocent soul, she was a bitch. you’re so nice. but i don’t want you wasting your emotions on her.”

you think about all this information as you two walk. you never really liked ava. she totally thought of herself as a queen bee, and that’s so icky. the class you had together is tiered with semi-circular layout. you sat at one end, and she did at the other. when you space out, you guess it might seem like staring, but, like. what the hell?

and then you see miguel. he’s in a booth with peter, mj, and miles. you and gwen go up to the table.

“hey, angel”

“hi mickey,”

“they have soup, got some for you. cranberry juice too.” your favorite food and your favorite juice? he’s heaven.

you smile so big it almost hurts.

“did you get me food?” gwen asks miles

“i- uh, didn’t know what you wanted,” gwen glares at him– it’s a joke but when you’re on the other end it doesn’t feel like it. “-but there’s plenty of pizza left! i haven’t gotten food yet. i wanted to wait for you.” gwen smiles and offers him her hand. the two of them leave and you slide into the booth, next to miguel. 

“how was break?” peter asks. 

“it was good! love being with my family as usual.”

“and miguel, i’m sure,” mj winks playfully. 

“i was at my parents house!”

“and miguel went over every time you offered.” peter says before taking a sip of his coffee. 

“he’s so in love with you. it’s an obsession.” mj jokes. 

miguel drapes his arm round your shoulder exaggeratedly. “gotta keep my girl safe, there’s some freaks who’d want to hurt her.” you elbow him lightly to tell him to stop joking like that. 

somewhere along the line after gwen and miles get back, the subject changes to them trying to convince you and gwen to go to graduate school. 

“you’re so smart! You could study classical literature! or ethical studies! or ethnic studies! genders studies.”

“oh my god parker please stop throwing studies in my face. i’m so happy y’all are having a good time in the master’s program. and i’m so glad that miles is planning to go do that kind of path too,” you lean back, head supported by miguel’s arm. “i just have no desire to be a career academic. by the time i graduate i’ll have spent seventeen years of my life on education. After i get that diploma i just want to write.”

“and that’s exactly what you’re gonna do, doll.” 

a few days later, and the weekend has arrived. you’re in miguel’s room, a tim burton film playing as you two cuddle. 

the movie gets drowned out by the sound of an alarm, coming from your phones. it’s an emergency alert from the police. someone else has been found dead. someone from your school. your breath turns shallow and a lump forms in your throat. you’re crying. you can’t breathe. everything is blurry. your chest feels heavy. miguel holds you, whispering in your ear reassurances. he’d never let anyone touch you. you’re safe. nothing bad is ever going to happen to you. he’s here to protect you. 

thank god you have miguel to protect you from everything evil outside.

#my writing #miguel my love #scream #ghostface!miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara #ghostface!miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x you #atsv #accross the spiderverse #atsv miguel #atsv x reader

[tojisun]

an easy rider

recom quaritch & recom zdinarsik x recom fem reader

: just a little crack drabble bc i luv the dynamics of the recoms hhh; writing through wainfleet’s pov is so fun like this guy is so unserious // 513 words // title from freak - lana

zdinarsik couldn’t help the low whistle that leaves her lips when she sees you walking in, hand-in-hand with her CO. wainfleet looks up from polishing his m69, furrowing his brows at her in confusion until he finally sees what she’s ogling at.

“nah,” he laughs, shaking his head. “she’s off limits.”

zdinarsik pops her bubblegum, humming from the base of her throat, clearly distracted as her golden eyes continue to trail after you.

wainfleet clears his throat. “zdog, no.”

“‘zdog, no’ what?” ja asks, falling beside wainfleet, popping open a plastic water bottle to take a swig.

“that,” wainfleet responds, nodding to where you are standing with the colonel. ja chokes, water sputtering from his gaping mouth, and wainfleet screeches when they fell on his bare thigh. “ja, you motherfucker!”

he’s so distracted with wiping away ja’s disgusting spit shower that he missed the way you and the colonel turned to them. “i swear to god, alexander, i’ll cut your queue off in your sleep and feed it to you-”

“now what the hell is going on here?” the colonel’s voice snuffs out the anger in wainfleet. he turns, ready to explain to their CO that it’s nothing, just ja’s disgusting little accident, only to see zdinarsik already on her feet, bending forward with her arm out towards you.

“hey, sweet thing,” she says, smiling. wainfleet gapes as you giggle, tucking a stray braid behind your ear. “name’s alicia zdinarsik. y’can call me zdog.”

you say your name, reaching forward to take her offered hand, intending to shake it, only for the other recom to pull you close and press her lips to the back of your palm.

distantly, wainfleet can hear ja having a terrifying coughing fit beside him, but he’s too distracted by zdog’s game. he chances a quick glance at quaritch, expecting to see thunder behind their CO’s eyes, only for wainfleet to be further propelled into a storm of confusion when all he sees is quaritch watching on with faint amusement.

what the hell, sir?

“well, if that ain’t a pretty name.” zdinarsik smiles. “it’s perfect for you, pretty.”

you giggle again, the sound ringing beautifully amidst the shock of silence, before you’re pulling your hand out of zdinarsik’s hold and slinking back to quaritch’s side. the colonel doesn’t waste any time in wrapping his arm around your waist, tucking you impossibly closer to his side, before nodding at them in dismissal.

“see you, zee,” you murmur, batting your pretty lashes at her.

“yeah,” zdinarsik replies, breathless. “see you, sweet girl.”

and with that, their CO stirs you away from their table, ducking his head close to whisper in your ear. not even their heightened senses can grasp what he says but based on your bright smile, it’s nothing worrying.

still, wainfleet feels like his lungs stopped working and ja is still trying to perform self-cpr to himself after almost choking to death from whatever flying fuck he just watched.

zdinarsik sighs wistfully, the only one unbothered by what the hell happened. “yeah,” she says. “i’m gon’ fuck her, ‘lright.”

#suns.f #zdog x reader #quaritch x reader #recom zdog x reader #miles quaritch x reader #recom zdog #recom miles quaritch #suns #my fave duo pls tagteam me

[kanmom51]

Firstly, I wanted to say I love your page and appreciate your honest perspective when it comes to BTS and jikook in particular. I am an “older” Army and can appreciate the viewpoint of someone who’s lived life a little and has seen many types of relationships. It’s very hard to not realize there’s something between JK and Jimin when you’ve seen examples of it time and time again in your own life or those around you. So thank you for making me feel less crazy!

I haven’t followed your page for very long and realize you may have touched on this in the past, but I was wondering what your thoughts are on this: Could V sometimes bringing up Jungkook/Jimin together or separately (usually Jungkook…let’s be real) and mentioning that they’ve hung out with him or seemingly being “encouraging” of a certain ship, possibly be his odd way of trying to distract from the real relationship he knows exists between jikook? Like in his own special Teahyung way be trying to help? For a long time, there has always been something that didn’t quite sit right with me when it came to V. I think it was his constant need for attention….don’t get me wrong, I love many things about him as well and know he can’t be very sweet and thoughtful and funny and endearing. I love them all very much. But am wondering what you think about V sounding like he sometimes encourages a taekook ship (ie, the last surprise live at JKs house or the live where he mentioned gaming with JK) because maybe in his own special way, he’s trying to protect? He does tend to do things in a very unique way. I don’t know! Let me know what you think!

Hey @sweetbslm108, welcome and thank you.

And hi @nut2019 😊

Now, I know both of these asks are kind of on the different sides of the spectrum, but I kind of felt like they can be answered together, because of the one communality, and that's, but of course, Tae THE MAN.

Also, before starting I need to say this is all my opinion. Take it or leave it.

I think I kinda talked about this here a bit too:

Let me just clarify what Tae shared in his IG story yesterday @nut 2019. It was a photo and a clip taken on the night after the movie premiere that JK and Tae went to, which was the 24-25 April 2023 - which as of today is 3 weeks ago. It's clearly that night and it's also clear it's not a date or an outing of the two alone, but a group outing with Tae and his friends (a couple from the Wooga squad and a couple I personally do not recognize). Yes, he posted it on Yellow day, but clearly has zero to do with that day.

I don't think Tae is encouraging the ship, but as an agent of chaos, he might be enjoying the aftermath of his handy work, maybe a little too much, lol.

Look, let's get serious here for a sec.

I love Tae to bits. I think it was even in one of the comments to the post I linked that someone mentioned thinking he's neuro divergent, and I was going "YES, FINALLY", because I've been saying this since forever. I'm no psychiatrist, so obviously I won't be handing out a diagnosis here, but, that said, his behavior, his quirkiness, his lack of understanding social queues and others emotions at times. The way he just says what pops to head, no matter if it has anything to do with the subject, and no matter what the consequences might be (take his 2015 radio interview fiasco literally outing JM on live air).

Tae is who he is. Always has been. And we all need to remember that the others all love him. All of them (including those we tend to champion). They might be frustrated with him at times. Angry with him. Might want to end him at times (from what JK spilled about the dumpling fight I kind of feel that was one of those times, lol), but you know, we all have those days with our loved ones too, so yeah.

In any case, whatever it may be, since the hiatus Tae has started to move in a certain recognized pattern that many Jikookers aren't happy with.

I understand the frustration that not only Jikookers have with him when it comes to that (and I'm saying that Tae stans are also feeling it). It feels like he lacks the energy to give to the fandom, interact with them, and maybe he feels that by dropping JK's name or posting a pic or clip with him he's making them happy (obviously aware of how much JK is loved), all while he obviously also is well aware of the chaos he's creating by doing so (claiming that he doesn't is a little naïve). It's kind of a minimum work maximum impact situation.

You are right @sweetbslm108 about Tae's mind being different to ours, it feels like his thought process is on a different parallel level. It's not by chance that JM called him his alien, lol. But saying that, I really don't think that this is his twisted way of going about protecting Jikook. I, personally, have no issues with him mentioning JK if it's part of the natural development of the conversation, kind of like he did during his live a few weeks back in the car. Doing so while talking about this and that, maybe also mentioning the others. They are good friends and clearly have gotten closer over the last few months (I'd say them being left for last and JM being MIA for JK did that), and it's natural they spend time together and it's great if he let's us know about it. But why only JK lately? That's what I keep asking myself, because he's not the only member he's in touch with or spent time with in the past few months. And coming live for a few minutes and dropping JK's name for what seems so purposeful, so much so that I've seen several Tae stans complaining about it. Because it doesn't feel natural. It doesn't feel like he's coming to talk to army or update them.

And I feel like it's ok to criticize him, criticize his behavior.

JK himself (there I go name dropping) said they are only human, which they are.

I keep saying it too, human beings with feelings and wants and needs, not 2 dimensional characters like many fans see them as.

And as such, they are not infallible. And they are definitely not beyond reproach.

And saying out loud, sounding said criticism, it doesn't make you a hater.

We criticize our loved ones, reprimand them when we feel they are doing wrong, and we do it out of love. So what's the difference here?

It should be part of the open discussion. Those who think it's wrong, those who don't, all respectful, no hate.

NO HATE!!

We don't do hate!!!

We love all 7 members.

We might feel more of an emotional connection with some rather than others, but we love them all, each in their own way.

And if I wasn't clear about it, then that includes Tae, even if sometimes he does things that might be infuriating.

My daughters can infuriate me at times, doesn't make me love them any less. Also doesn't stop me from letting them know I don't agree with their behavior.

I will end this by saying that we are all different people, we come from different backgrounds, different places in the world, different professions or schooling, different upbringings, different cultures, different life experiences, just different. All those are our baselines. The things that make us who we are, what we think, what we do.

And being different, all gathering here, voicing our opinions, talking to each other, hearing each other out, that will, at the end of the day make us better people. I do believe that. Being able to listen to one another and at times allow ourselves to be convinced one way or another, that makes us better.

Bottom line:

Tae is an agent of chaos. We love him, even when said chaos he is causing can be infuriating (and the thing is, all he's doing is mentioning his friend or posting a pic of them together, but it's what transpires from that due to mainly I-army that irks us so much).

We are also allowed to call him out on it.

No hate. Period.

Have a civil discussion.

You can voice your opinions here, as long as it's respectful and without hate. Not towards the members and not towards each other.

#ask

[featherlouise]

Do you think hollow knew what to expect when radiance was sealed in them? I doubt anyone would have explained exactly what would happen and I don’t think most people would actually know what it’s like to literally contain a goddess so do you think they were expecting to just die or whatever during the sealing but then they pop up in the dream battle and they’re instantly confused. Lmao

I adore the idea of them taking one look at the massive looming moth goddess and going “nah, fuck this shit. I sure as shit Did NOT sign up for this bullshi-“ and radiance gets to watch hollows short mental spiral and after they calm down they both just shit talk PK until ghost shows up.

I know it’s ooc and it isn’t my headconon but it’s a funny thought lol (soz for the long ask)

Ooooo that’s a great question actually!!

I don’t think anyone really knew exactly what to expect, not even PK, but I do think it was a pretty safe guess that there would’ve been a fight of some kind, hence Hollow being trained in combat and magic. And I don’t think anyone really told Hollow explicitly??? But they’re not stupid and would’ve caught on what was expected of them during others’ conversations.

Or!! It’s honestly possible that PK talked AT them about what he suspected would happen when they were sealed, kinda like Rubber Duck Debugging.

Though I can imagine it was a surprise when they ended up surrounded by pretty clouds, only for the SUN TO SPROUT WINGS AND ATTACK THEM

As for what I think actually happened!! (Ik u didn’t ask about this I just wanna talk about it absnddjdd)

I’m really intrigued by the idea of an eternal battle, BUT what I find more interesting is the idea of Hollow and Radi having a series of shorter battles throughout their imprisonment.

Every time Hollow won, Radi would retreat to lick her wounds and Holly would get some peace for a while. Maybe there was actually some talking during these moments.

Whenever the Radiance won however, Hollow is knocked out of the dream world (like how Ghost is booted out when u lose dream battles) and they’re confronted with the reality that their body is actively falling apart.

During those moments, while they’re frantically trying to calm down enough to re enter the dream realm, they’re in so much pain that it feels like they’re burning from the inside out.

Usually the only noise in the temple is that of their own ragged breathing and the occasional drip, drip, drip of the infected parts of them leaking. At one point, they hear a loud wet slap on the ground, and they turn their head to find that their arm has rotted off.

Meanwhile, Radi uses these moments where she’s not occupied by Hollow’s murder attempts to spread her infection further.

Every time they lose they put up less and less of a fight, until one day they break completely, and the Radiance completely takes over (queue Ghost arriving in Hallownest)

The idea of them both just gossiping about PK for centuries is SO funny to me tho honestly shdbdjdns

All jokes aside though!! I do like to think that some conversations were had between the two!! I doubt they were friendly conversations at all, but I think it’s an interesting concept to explore :D

#sry less than HALF of this actually answers your ask ahsbdjdjd #I got excited lmao #I’ve never thought about this idea in depth before tho so this was fun to think about!!!!!! #asks #hollow knight #pure vessel #hk pv #hk hollow #the hollow knight #thk #hk radiance