#And what if my backpack doesn't fit??

[completely-zoned-out]

Tomorrow will be my 3rd time flying! I'm so excited!! But also so so nervous, the thought of security absolutely freaks me out...

[seekingthestars]

coworkers: make sure you have room left in your suitcase for all the free stuff we'll get at the conference!

me, staring at my already very full suitcase: uh.................................

[alnilaem]

I don't know how much it fits but, keeping with the theme of butcher!simon's neighborhood being a bit dangerous:

where I grew up (rough neighborhood) there were often bars/pubs and even gas stations nearby that operated all afternoon/night and guys often congregated outside smoking cigarettes and what not. they never bothered the residents, but they damn well worked as guard dogs and warded off strangers.

so... idea: simon and his buddies hanging out outside the corner pub when reader is coming/going to her second job in the weekends, watching closely to make sure she makes it from the bus/train stop to the building door, especially after dark.

OR

alternatively!! simon who stays up and checks out of his window when reader is coming home after dark and doesn't let himself go to sleep until he hears her door unlocking and her making some type of sound (like closing her rickety door or whatever).

i dont think you understand….. reading this altered my brain so viscerally. guard dog simon. yeah.

-

“Still got yer balls in her purse?”

Simon lights his cigarette. The soft smoulder of it barely offsets the flickering streetlight above them, scarcely illuminates the sidewalk. It shines over his face, hanging from the threshold of his lips.

“Yup,” he hums. “Right where I want ‘em.”

Johnny cackles through the plume of smoke curling up and out of his lips. He pats Simon on the back, taking a long drag of his cig, and bumps his shoulder with Kyle’s.

“When’d’ya reckon he’ll let us meet the Bird?”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “When he finds someone to pay.”

“Put a sock in it,” Simon snarls. Taps the ash off his cig. 

Photo is a generous word for it. But it was the only thing Simon had to testify to your existence. A blurry, smudgy picture taken on his phone. Half-eclipsed by his thumb which was accidentally in the corner of his camera. A picture of you leaving the lift—a shallow angle of you walking in some leggings, returning from work. 

It was privy to Simon. A likeness to indulge in during his work days. But in a flitting moment, Johnny laid his eyes on it. Read him to filth for it.

And now, they’re here. 

Off-white sheets of rain running off the canopy they’re situated under. Each holding a cigarette to their lips, resting against the wet brick of a hole-in-the-wall pub. The warm hum from inside pooling into the empty streets of Manchester.

A thin sound arises from it. The chime of a shopkeeper’s bell, signifying the door is being opened. Into the diving rain, you step out, clutching a backpack against your shoulder, your uniform sticking to your skin.

It’s a heavy mass of muscle you almost run into. You stop yourself with a hand split against their chest, against the fleetly rise-and-fall of their jacket.

You have to hoist your neck up to see him. It takes you a while to reorient yourself, to recognise the depthless copper of his eyes. And it takes you even longer to register the underside of his face. Bare, flooded under the soft light of streetlights. 

“Simon!” You squeak. The succession of his heartbeat pumping under your palm. Two men hovering behind him, exchanging puckish smirks. “What are you doing here?”

Simon’s eyebrows purse like he’s confused. He tilts his head, looking at you like a puppy, and shrugs. “I’m here to pick you up.”

“Pick me up–” a chord of bemusement strikes you, collapsing your sentence. Your reservations catch up to you, hitting you like bricks. “Pick me up?”

Simon grunts. His eyes flicker down to your skirt, how it flurries in the wind, and pulls you beneath the awning. 

“Getting y’rself all wet under there,” he grumbles. “Brought you this.”

Simon holds up an umbrella. He waits for you to take it before splaying his big hand on the hind of your spine and turning you around, shepherding you forward.

Your voice is warped with bashfulness when you speak. “Where’re we going?”

“Home,” he says. Three pairs of footfall tread on your heels. Each one more intimidating than the other. Sticky and wet as they trail behind you.

“Just keep walking, Trouble,” Simon mumbles. “‘m here.”

It’s a shield that keeps everyone away. The invasive eyes, the creeping men that usually accompany you on your walk home after work. But today, they’re silent. 

The three men are a pack of dogs behind you. 

Simon, kissing the ground before you walk on it.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

[lookingforhappy]

Five should never have been with the CIA, he should have been with the Keepers

the CIA is incredibly reminiscent of the Commission, the thing that Five has been trying to escape since s1, and that has repeatedly dehumanised, manipulated and hurt him.

not only is it a secret organisation that aids in the manpiluatation of the lives of others by a higher power but he is also constantly monitored, with and without his knowledge -

he has to report to his boss, he is constantly followed/attended to by Derek (who is lightly implied to also be a keeper), and the keepers are undoubtedly reporting back to his boss to keep him in line without his knowledge.

(just look at how many are keepers.. thats insane for Five not to have noticed anything after spending so long in the commission on high alert - what happened to him always checking the surroundings first??)

sounds similar to him having to report the handler, constantly being followed by her (into the bathroom, the tube room, etc) and always being watched by the infinite switchboard and his tracker.

there's also the "Five is one of the top agents at this secret and shady org. and Diego is the butt of the joke because he wants what Five has and Five won't give it to him & when he does get it it's a comedy scene" thing.

which is honestly just another nail in the "cia is too similar to the commission to be comfortable for five" coffin for me..

he is also constantly referred to as "Mr. Five" a name that is only ever seen used by the Commission,

and which is supposed to show the Commission's false respect for Five by tacking a "Mr." onto his name while also refusing to add on a surname (Hargreeves) - or in the circumstance that Five doesn't accept a last name, then addressing him by his full name "Number Five" or "00.05" or just "5" - which dehumanises and detaches him from his family aka his reason for leaving.

Five also calling his boss "sir" is incredibly out of character as at no point in the series has he called anyone by a honorific, not the Handler, not his father, and especially not someone younger than him.

and also that he calls the cia director (lance ribbons) "boss"

like not even "my boss" or "the boss"... just "boss". it just feels like such a young mans word, which Five decidedly is not. if i had to pick how he would address ribbons id have him say "ribbons", "director" or maybe "director ribbons" if he was in a formal situation. never "sir" or "boss"

There's Five adapting to the timeline/circumstance and then theres Five's entire personality changing.

and honestly, if this is a survival technique for Five in this timeline, to play into his apparent youth, then why not show that?? or even explore it in a more interesting way like how the comics had him disguise as a kid with a backpack, bike and binoculars???

instead they kept giving him stupid little props that only served to further hammer in the obvious "hey! five works for the cia now!"

all it does is make him look ridiculous, and i know that five is holding the gun and torch in the correct way but god it makes him look like such a cop. and after hes been fighting authority for his entire life it feels so fucking weird.

what's interesting though, is that he would have fit in fine with the Keepers! and we see this demonstrated perfectly in their first scene

just.. the way that perfectly sums up Five.. plus our concerns that he wouldn't have anything to do after the apocalypses are solved and aidan's comments that Five was feeling like he had nothing left/suicidal.. for there to be a group of other people that not only believe him but support him unconditionally?

(aaand im out of pictures... great)

for Five to be able to say this to other people? and to not be thought of as insane?? thats big.

and then for Five to be hinted at not keeping up with his siblings aside from Diego - the deleted scene with Klaus at the party shows that Five doesn't know how long Klaus' been sober for, he also asks Luther where Viktor is, clearly hasn't seen Allison or Ben in a while.. it's all such a perfect set up for Five to join the keepers.

and not only does this set him up with other people, in a support group setting. but it also perfectly sets up his arc to have conflict with his siblings without losing their trust (sorry fivela stans but i cant get on board bc it destroys his relationships with the family).

while Viktor was negotiating with Ben, the others could have been negotiating with Five. which would have brought us full circle, of five disappearing and fighting like hell to get back home, to returning but not feeling like he belongs, to being brought back into the fold. this is also the perfect opportunity to bring Lila in, as she would have the best understanding of where he stands after being manipulated by the commission.

it's also the perfect opportunity to have Five cause the apocalypse, instead of save it. people have talked about Five being set up to cause the next one since forever, and Klaus has a perfect set up for it too.

I personally think that each season should have rotated who causes the apocalypse instead of randomly making it Viktor's fault. this way we could explore the siblings individually and their trauma and recovery. give them all a seasons worth of focus.

season 1 gave us Viktor's apocalypse.

season 2 should have given us Diego's via JFK's survival causing the apocalypse (exploring his hero complex and how his ignoring his family in favour of pursuing his own ego/comfort isn't good for anyone etc)

season 3 should have been Allison's via her desperation to get Claire back - the kugelblitz shouldn't exist (because it doesnt work with the established laws of space time) but instead her deal with Reginald should have caused the apocalypse maybe as a way to motivate the others like Five into finding a solution.

season 4 can still be Ben's but ultimately for the final season it should have been a joint effort or at least come full circle and actually been impactful with more connections to Ben's death instead of the 2 second reveal of him getting shot in the most anticlimatic and confusing reveal i have ever seen. Ben has literally haunted the narrative for 4 seasons, between his death being the reason they disband, to his ghost being the reason they survive at the end of s1 and s2, and his alternate reality self in s3 and s4. he didn't get the send off he deserved for someone who has influenced near everything in the show.

there should have been 8 seasons - 7 to deal with the issues of the individuals, and 1 to deal with their recovery as a group, almost acting as an epilogue.

instead we got 4 poorly planned and incomplete seasons..

anyway, thats what i think Five should have been doing this season, not joining the CIA

[xiaowhore]

you're a pain in the neck. (literally.)

premise. in which you make a nuisance of yourself in every train ride you share with scaramouche. (inexplicably, he doesn't stop sitting next to you anyway.)

note. we pretend i didn't disappear for months :D enjoy

Neck pain has been increasingly common in Scaramouche's life these days.

The cause of which is sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, snoring softly as the train rattles past. The way you remain deep in slumber despite the constant lurching is impressive, but your knack for unwittingly making yourself a menace to society is even more spectacular.

Scaramouche takes a deep breath—Kazuha always did advise him to be more patient—yet the moment he does, tufts of your hair curl against his skin. A flush rises to his cheeks, body caught between freezing in place and jolting out of his seat, but he digs his fingers to his thighs and wills himself to dispel the urge to shoot upright, in fear of...

In fear of what? Shocking you awake?

Nonsense. He's never been that considerate.

(Still, once the tension bleeds from his body, he lets his shoulders drop, fitting your head snugly against the crook of his neck. He grabs your phone from your loose grip, tucks it securely in your pocket, and allows himself to stare at the dark circles beneath your eyes.

He can let himself worry for a bit.)

--

“What's wrong with you?” Kazuha's concerned gaze settles over Scaramouche's hunched figure, slumped miserably on the desk. His head is craned in a particular angle, and Childe, obnoxious as he is, had erupted in boisterous laughter when Scaramouche entered the lecture hall tilted the very same way. Unfortunately, Scaramouche had been too sore to swat away Childe's phone as he took a picture of him in a zombie filter.

“Got a crick in my neck.”

Kazuha frowns. “Did you sleep badly again?”

Scaramouche scoffs in defeat. “You could say that.”

The next time he sees you enter the train, you're drenched.

You make an effort to dry yourself, wiping rainwater out of your hair with a handkerchief and packing your wet jacket in your bag, but you're still undeniably soaked. Some passengers don't bother to hide their distaste, scooting away to other vacant seats as they shoot you a scornful look. Others aren't so cruel, offering packets of tissues and initiating small talk over the worsening weather. Scaramouche watches as your apologetic expression turns into one of gratitude, sheepishly admitting to the nice aunties you forgot to check the forecast.

Scaramouche doesn't quite give you a spare towel or send you a reassuring smile, but he broods silently from where he sits beside you, scowling at the impudent lot now sitting far, far away. Insolent fools, tactless jerks, ill-mannered garbage—a barrage of insults fly in his head, ones he has learned not to verbalize lest he gets in trouble for his crass mouth again.

When the train pauses to his stop, he pulls out a foldable umbrella from his bag, still seething. He hands it out to you, not making eye contact as he's still glaring at the woman giving you a side-eye. “Take this.”

“Uh...?” Perplexed, you hesitantly accept it. “But...”

“It's fine.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder, walking toward the sliding doors. “So don't come here drenched in the rain next time.”

He doesn't get to hear your response as he speeds off.

--

“I'm an asshole.”

“Is this your moment of self-discovery?”

“Congratulations.”

Scaramouche's eyebrow twitches, but he's much too panicked to make a snarky quip to fire back. It's his fault for picking the wrong people to talk to, anyway—Heizou is a smartass and Xiao has a perpetual stick up his ass. He should've confided to the empathetic Aether instead, or to Venti who gives surprisingly good advice when you least expect it.

“So what made you realize it?” Heizou bites down on a pork cutlet, apparently finished with his daily quota for pissing him off and now fulfilling his obligations as a friend. “Did something happen?”

“Does it have anything to do with how you arrived soaking wet to class?” Xiao adds, poking the tofu on his plate.

“Perhaps you tried stealing an umbrella on your way here?”

“You got it backwards, dumbass. I gave away mine,” Scaramouche scowls.

“That sounds like you did a good thing, then. What's wrong?”

The way he gave it away so roughly. The way he said you could use it so condescendingly. How he'd forgotten to offer words of comfort, no matter how painful or awkward for him, because he'd been so absorbed in pointless matters. How he'd completely ruined his chances of being friends with you by acting like an indifferent jerk.

All because he was too embarrassed to say he's worried you'll catch a cold from the rain.

--

When Scaramouche takes the train the way home, it's him who's dripping rainwater everywhere.

Karma had gotten his new umbrella stolen from the rack, it seems. He just bought it from the convenience store, damn it.

So now he stands by the doors, too reluctant to go any further inside the train. His wet sneakers squeak beneath his feet, hair sticking uncomfortably on his forehead. His shirt clings to him like second skin, and the only thing retaining his modesty (because of course he falls prey to downpour the one time he wears a white button-up) is a heavy sweater vest soaked in water.

“So much for telling me not to come here when I'm drenched.”

A small towel drapes itself over his head, and Scaramouche quickly turns on his feet. Your mouth is curled into a grin when you step to the spot by his side, but not unkindly—you aren't here to mock him or return his cruel words.

Scaramouche grabs the towel sitting atop his head, drying his hair with it. As he does so, you make no move to leave even with plenty of vacant seats remaining unoccupied.

“... Aren't you going to sit?”

“Hm? No.” You're already holding onto a handrail, staring ahead.

“...Why not?”

“I'm keeping you company.”

???

“Oh, and your umbrella.” You fish it from your bag, holding it out for him to take. “Cute pattern, by the way.”

“Wha-” he's about to say ‘what are you talking about,’ but then he sees the cute star print, the gold sparkles bright against navy blue, and his hair rises on end, face flushing a deep red. Nahida was the one who packed it for me...!

“...Cute.”

“I heard you the first time,” he grumbles under his breath, accepting it from your hand.

An endeared smile crosses your face, one that he doesn't see as he stuffs the umbrella into his backpack.

I wasn't talking about the umbrella.

Scaramouche has always made it a habit to take the train before rush hour, but his report is due today, and so he slept for a grand total of two hours last night just to finish it. It wouldn't even be two hours if he hadn't slept through his alarm, but he wishes he'd woken up earlier; if it meant he could've avoided a crowded train, he could stand to lose some minutes of sleep.

“Can you move a bit?”

“Ow, ow...”

“Sorry, I stepped on your foot!”

“I hope nobody comes in at the next stop...”

Scaramouche empathizes with the last remark in particular, because he really couldn't handle it any more.

Presently, he's staring at the ceiling, praying for divine intervention. His neck is starting to hurt but he forces himself to face upwards, otherwise he would...

“This is tough, isn't it?” You laugh awkwardly, your chuckle turning into a wince when an elbow digs to your side. The train car is packed at full capacity, and you wouldn't be exaggerating if you were to say you felt like you were drowning in a sea of people.

“That's a massive understatement,” Scaramouche replies, wishing for death.

“Sorry. I can't go any farther than this.”

“It's fine.”

Actually, nothing is fine.

Scaramouche is trapped against the wall in the farthest location from the exit, surrounded by people from all sides, his stop is two stations away, and he has no idea how he's going to swim all the way through the doors.

Oh, and he's caged between your arms, pressed against your body, and feeling very much like a pervert for sniffing your scent, but it's simply impossible not to smell you at this close proximity (however, it's entirely his fault for thinking you smell good and trying to pinpoint what cologne you use).

Your head is resting on his shoulder, and Scaramouche learns quickly this position is a lot more embarrassing when you're conscious. And fuck, this time he can feel you breathe directly against his neck, puffs of hot air blowing on his reddened skin, and he can only hope for the best you can't sense his racing heartbeat.

You're too goddamn close, even though he can tell you're exerting your utmost effort to create some distance between your bodies. Your arms are straining pushing on the wall just so you wouldn't crush him under your weight, and as much as he should appreciate it, he can hardly think straight over the sound of his pulse in his ears. He's hanging precariously over the edge, and if he crosses his limit, he might just pass away on the spot.

Hell, if he so as much looks down, he's close enough to kiss your forehead, and-

He really shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

So yeah. Scaramouche may look like an idiot facing the ceiling, but at least he isn't at risk of cardiac arrest.

It's fine. This is fine. I'm one stop away. I can survive this. Just a little more.

But the gods above must hate his guts or something because the train screeches to a rough halt at the station, the car rattles violently, and you're squirming underneath him, his hands instinctively wrapping around your waist to steady you, but your head moves to look up at him and-

Scaramouche very nearly astral projects to another plane when he feels your lips graze against his chin.

“Hey, you okay?! Did you hit your head on the wall or something?”

He feels like he did. He's so dizzy and the world is spinning around him, but at the same time you're the only one he can see. This must be unhealthy, Scaramouche thinks, and he wonders how much blood has rushed to his head, coloring his cheeks bright pink, and if he can die from losing too much blood this way.

“Kuni?”

How do you know my name, Scaramouche isn't sure if he really says it, mind still whirring with thoughts, and oh god his hands are still on your waist-

“Your umbrella had a name tag...” You squint at the neon letters displaying the current station, “Hey, your stop is here, isn't it? Excuse me! Coming thro....”

He vaguely remembers your hands pushing him forward and the crowd parting obediently to make way for him when they see his face becoming visibly ill. The rest passes in a blur, and when Scaramouche finally comes to, he's already outside the train station.

For a brief moment, he stays frozen. Then by the corner of his eye, he notices the shopping center.

He stares at the pastel decor from the cosmetic store, approaches the vanity mirror, and if possible, his mind turns even more blank.

A faint kiss mark is stark against his chin, the same color as the lip tint you wear everyday.

“I'm not going.”

Venti sighs, disappointed but not surprised. “You never go to drinking parties with me. Why do you always head straight home after class?”

“Reasons.” Scaramouche closes his laptop and slides it inside his bag, making quick work of packing his things. “In your case, I'd advise you to go less. Being an alcoholic isn't a good look.”

“My liver is strong,” Venti insists, a cheeky grin dancing on his lips. “But seriously, what's up? Don't tell me you have a secret girlfriend you meet up with after class?”

“I was starting to think the same thing,” Aether pipes up, matching curious looks with Venti. “Or maybe you have a boyfriend? Either way, what are they like?”

“I have neither,” Scaramouche grumbles, coming off more pitiful than spiteful. “And I'm coming home early today because Nahida wanted me to get something for dinner.”

“Ehh, that's boring.”

“You're the ones making assumptions by yourselves!” Scaramouche snaps, treading towards the door. “I'm leaving. Don't call me to pick you up when you're wasted, it's Xiao's turn this week.”

“Okay, enjoy your date~”

Scaramouche doesn't even bother replying.

--

You get on the train scheduled for 4:15 everyday.

It's not that Scaramouche deliberately researched this information; he really did just catch the same train rides by chance. Over time, he began to recognize you as a familiar face, and eventually, he even became your headrest.

Not by choice, but he supposes he just has to live with it.

It's not that Scaramouche intentionally takes the same train so he could see your face. At least, that's what he tells himself as he silently pressures the retail cashier to scan his items faster and practically flies out the convenience store to rush for the train.

He glances at his wristwatch. 4:11. I'll make it. He breathes a sigh of relief, and checks the shopping list Nahida texted for good measure. Curry mix, milk, a carton of eggs...

A notification sound rings from his phone.

‘Sorry for the late notice, could you get pudding for dessert too?’

Shit.

Panic flares in his eyes and he spins on his heel, returning to the convenience store. Do I sprint? No, it's still not humanly possible to buy pudding and go back in four minutes... But I could try. Wait, wasn't there a line of customers behind me earlier? I'd still have to wait in line.

Finally, he stops running. This is stupid. Why am I working so hard just to catch this train, anyway?

Before he could even properly sulk about it, Scaramouche bumps into someone hurrying for the train. “Oh, sorry! I wasn't looking-”

Much to his surprise, your face comes into view when he looks, chest heaving for breath. You look like you've been running for a good while, hair in disarray from the wind, the reading glasses perched on your nose askew. And that's how Scaramouche knows you're in a real hurry, if you didn't even have the time to put on your contacts.

“It's okay,” Scaramouche quickly replies, stepping aside out of your path. “The train is still there, don't sweat it.”

He turns to the convenience store, mood lifted. I got to see them, so I guess this way is fine, too.

--

When Scaramouche returns from shopping, he comes back to a strange sight.

“Huh?”

“What are you looking at?”

Good question.

Why was he looking at your figure, still waiting for the next train to come by?

“No, well...” The plastic bags in his hand crinkle when he tightens his grip on them. Scaramouche blinks repeatedly, trying to see if you'll somehow fizzle out of existence if he closes his eyes enough. “You definitely could've made it in time for the train, so why are you still...”

Your lips stretch to a small smile. “I didn't.”

No. You definitely did.

You were at a distance where it'll only take three minutes max to reach the train even if you walked the same pace as a turtle. So why...

“Your face can be surprisingly expressive sometimes, Kuni. You're practically a walking question mark right now.”

“Ku-” He stops himself from speaking before his voice could crack.

“Sorry, you don't like me calling you that?” You're tilting your head at him, putting on puppy eyes. Oh no.

“...No. It's fine.” Damn it. Aether was right—he really is a softie.

However, he's still busy pondering. Sure, it's a stroke of luck and Scaramouche won't look a gift horse in the mouth, but why didn't you take your usual train? You were even running towards the station, arriving with wind-tousled hair and disheveled clothes.

“I was waiting.”

Scaramouche blinks. “For what?”

You stare at him in disbelief, like you seriously can't believe he doesn't know. That's when Scaramouche notices some things about you are a little different from earlier.

Your hair is fixed now, no strands randomly sticking up in the air. Your clothes are neat and tidy too, creases patted down. Your glasses are gone, and Scaramouche isn't sure if it's just his mind playing tricks on him or the color of your lips appears more vibrant from earlier.

He flinches when a sigh escapes you. But then the frown on your face is replaced with a dazzling smile, exasperated but fond.

“Who do you think I'm waiting for, dummy?”

BONUS: A look into the future.

“Has anyone ever told you your chin is really sharp?” Scaramouche grumbles under his breath, movements heavily restricted when your arms are wrapped tightly around his torso and the edge of your chin is stabbing his neck. Cooking breakfast proves to be a lot more of a challenge when a koala is clinging on his back.

“No,” you chirp, grinning ear to ear as you watch him stir the pancake batter over his shoulder. “Has anyone ever told you how cute you look in an apron?”

Scaramouche glowers. “No.” If a living person actually did, they wouldn't be for long.

“That's good.” If possible, you squeeze him even tighter, nuzzling against his face. “I want to keep the adorable Kuni to myself.”

“Disgusting.”

So he says as he leans his head closer when you peck him on the cheek.

Some things just never change, he guesses.

[malacandrax]

I kind of enjoy making little blog posts sharing (romanticising) my life a bit, so here's my morning!

I've been making compote for my oats out of fruit I've been gifted/picked so it doesn't go off, this one tastes slightly like onions because I didn't wash my chopping board well enough after just making soup... but it's...still good. Anyway I am very melancholy about the season changing so I decided to make time to go out and paint before it gets too cold!

The footpath had been plowed over and it was so tiring climbing over these massive ridges to get to the forest, but someone has to make it a path again I guess. Also, I decided to document the awful stage in every painting that I was VERY unsure I'd be able to get past this time. It's nice to know that it worked out!

I made a gurney style easel (so it attaches to a tripod) and I was very pleased it actually worked, with...some adjustments (velcro) to cover my failings. [thank u for commissioning me >:) this is what I was getting stuff for]

I'm pretty happy with it, the light moved loads and I lost my initial impression, but it still has the vibes! I also saw a squirrel run over that central branch which was so cute...

Spotting other points I was like 'damn, I wanna paint this too'- but I actually chose somewhere entirely hidden bc I was quite scared I'd make a mess of it and someone might see. (I've seen like...one person here ever, in years. Still.)

Hometime + big lunch because I was fucking starving lmao. The whole setup fits quite neatly into/onto my backpack which i'm pleased abt!

[wonybaee]

| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | My love, forever ahn yujin x f!reader

-> warnings: kissing, bitchy waitress, girlies are lovesick, idk why they broke up?? this is from that poll btw:)

☆☆☆

You had work today, so you expected an alarm to wake you up from your dreams, a normal alarm, not the one with your ex-girlfriends face popping up on your phone screen, the alarm screaming “Wake up! It's your 3rd year anniversary with your pretty girlfriend!”

Yeah, hearing it now, after a few months of setting up that alarm, did sound cringe.

I mean, it would sound cringe, your ex-girlfriend yujin, did make you set that alarm up before you two broke up.

Anyways, forgetting that, before you get sentimental and shit.

You groaned, stretching your limbs hearing a loud crack, “ouch,  mei, I think your mamas getting old.”

You chuckled, looking over at your dog that was sprawled out on her little dog bed, “you probably think I'm dumb, but i know you understand me, so, i'll still talk to you.”

Getting out of your bed, you slipped your feet into the slippers that were placed by your bed and went straight to fetch mei her dog food, she always comes first, well, more likely, if you went to the bathroom, she would not make you relax, barking your ear off, so you decided to do the right thing.

After getting her food, water and petting for a while, she rolled over and went straight back to sleep.

You smiled, you have had mei for quite a while now, you and yujin got her at the start of your relationship, yujin said and you quote “in case we ever break up, which i doubt, one of us gets to keep her to think about the other!”

“But what about one of us that doesn't get to keep the dog?” you asked, “well, i didn't think about that,” yujin smiled sheepishly, “then let's get two dogs, what do you think?” you tilted your head, “woah! That's actually smart!” and you both broke out in fit of giggles.

And that's how you got two dogs, mei that you got to keep, and gaeul, that yujin got to keep.

Gosh, did that alarm got to your head that much or why were you suddenly thinking about your memories with yujin?!

You shook your head, pushing the thoughts of yujin and how happy you two were together away, getting up to get ready for work.

☆☆☆

You were walking mei around the park, you had just gotten off work and decide to take her on a walk, it would make you relax after a long day too, so, you took her leash and went out.

“Mei, shouldn't we sit down? My legs are killing me,” you whined out, like she could actually hear you.

Nevertheless, you took a little blanket out of your backpack, spreading it out on the grass, taking a seat.

“Let me get this thing off of you, so you can go run around for a while,” you took off her leash, and mei like she had been held hostage all this time, started running around like crazy, running up to people making them pet her.

You just laughed whole-heartedly, taking out your phone to film her.

After filming her for quite a while, you shut your phone off, dropping it inside your bag and instead taking out a pack of cigarettes and lighter, lighting it up and popping it inside your mouth.

When you looked up, mei was nowhere to be found, you got up in panic, picking up your things, running around, searching for her.

After finally spotting her next to a woman with her own dog, you quickly run up to them.

“Oh my gosh, mei, you scared the living shit outta me,” you fell to your knees, picking her up and hugging her tightly against your chest, “I'm sorry, she doesn't usually run up to people like that, i don't know, why-"

“I guess she just recognised me,” the woman's words made you stop in your tracks, “wow, it hasn't even been that long, and you already forgot me?”

Her teasing tone made you realize who you were talking to, and why mei, when she never does, ran like crazy to this mysterious, well, not anymore, since you figured out that the person was yujin.

“Oh, um, no i didn't forget you, just, didn't see your face,” you tried to reason.

“I didn't knew you still smoked,” she ignored what you said and changed the topic.

“Yeah, only once in a while,” you realized you still had cigarette in your mouth, so you took a big whiff before throwing it down on the pavement and smashing it with your foot.

“Good to hear,” she smiled, “see you around?”

“Yeah, of course, totally, most definitely...see you around,” you slapped yourself mentally, what the fuck?! Great, now you embarrassed yourself in front of her.

She just chuckled at your red cheeks, “cute,” she mumbled under her breath, hoping that you would still hear.

And you did, just tried to play it off.

With last nod towards your way, she turned around, tugging gaeul with her leash, that you just now noticed, was rubbing against your leg.

“Aw, gaeul, I'm sorry baby, i just noticed you,” you cooed, bending down to pet her, “how are you?”

Gaeul rolled onto her back, her paws flying in every direction, “she still likes your rubs so much,” yujin pointed it out.

“Yeah,” you dragged out, “you know, i was thinking, since we haven't seen each other for this past few months, what do you think about catching up over some coffee?”

You looked at her with a hopeful glint in your eyes, but her face told it all, “it doesn't have to be like a date, just two old friends catching up?”

“Y/n, i didn't even think of it as a date,” ouch, that hurt, “i knew what you meant, and yeah, I would like to catch up on with you over a cup of coffee.”

“Great, tomorrow around...” you looked down at your watch, calculating the time, “three p.m. is good for you?”

“Perfect actually, i get off work around two, so, I'll have enough time to get pretty for you.” She winked, before finally leaving.

“Mei, i don't like to brag, but i think we're about to get your mom and sister back,” you smirked, looking at yujin's figure that was almost out of sight.

☆☆☆

“Mei, baby, i have to leave you with your grandma today,” you stared at yourself in the mirror, adding final touches to your makeup and hair, “the mission “get mei’s mom and sister back", can only be done by me, you'll have to sit this one out.”

You scratched her head, walking towards and out the door.

Walking in the cafe, you looked around for the empty table to occupy for you and yujin.

“Hello, would you like anything?” the waitress came over, a girl with blonde, no, yellow hair, twirling it between her fingers.

“No, thanks, I-" she cut you off, okay, rude.

“Are you waiting for someone?” she put her hands down on the table, putting her whole weigh on them.

“Yes, i am, actually, so i would appreciate if you'd get back to your job, and act like a professional,” she straightened up her posture, a scowl attached to her face, “thank you, now, i would like a glass of water, before-"

“Actually, we'd like two cups of coffee,” yujin stepped out from behind the waitress, motioning her to get out of her way, “thanks.”

She flashed her a fake smile, “your coffee will be out in a few,” and walked off.

“Gosh, what a pain in the ass,” you groaned out, looking at yujin from head to toe, gosh, she looks beautiful.

Yujin's face went red, fiddling with the hem of her dress, before she took a seat in front of you.

“You said it out loud, you know,” she tried to stop her smile from forming.

“So? Did i lie?” you tilted your head to the side, small smirk making it's way on your lips, at the sight of her red as a tomato cheeks.

“Stop, you're making me blush,” she put her face in her hands, embarrassed to look up.

“Payback for making me blush yesterday,” you murmured under your breath, yujin missing it in a beat.

“What did you say?” she asked, finally straightening up.

“I said, you look even prettier with red cheeks,” you winced loudly, when she slapped you on the arm, very aggressively.

“Seriously, stop, i can't take it anymore,” she whined, unknowingly pout making it's way on her lips.

“Come on, I'm tryna win you back here, have some faith,” you suddenly stopped at your own words, shutting your eyes tightly, “I'm sorry-"

“It's okay, I dressed up for you anyway, hoping to win you back with my prettiness,” both of you broke out in fit of giggles, and you coffee arrived.

☆☆☆

“I miss talking to you,” yujin smiled sadly, looking down.

“I miss being with you, so, yeah,” there was a few seconds of silence, before that waitress broke it again.

“Your check,” she slammed it down on the table, waiting for one of you to pay, so you took out your wallet, paying before both you and yujin got up, leaving the cafe.

☆☆☆

You and yujin were walking side by side, you decided to walk her home, even though thousands of protests from her, you wanted to make this moment last even longer.

“Since when was your house this close?” you asked, staring up at the big apartment building.

“I don't know,” she let out a small giggle, “you can come-"

You didn't let her finish, crashing your lips against hers, her lips felt like soft, fluffy pillows against your own.

You two stayed like that for a few seconds, eyes shut, just lips pressed against each others, not moving an inch, before you finally pulled back.

“I don't-" “I want to get back together.”

“You don't know how long I've waited to hear those words from-" she didn't let you finish, pressing up against you, clashing her mouth against your owns.

Mei, i don't like bragging, but i thin the mission “get mei's mom and sister back" was a total success.

☆☆☆

[leahsgf]

Looove Lucy taking care of reader.

Could I have more? Maybe Lucy is the worried older sister who makes sure reader doesn't get separated from the group when they go out, or that she ends up spending her money on too many sweets. Thanks <3

REINS - lucy bronze

lucy bronze x sister!reader

pure fluff about lucy being an overprotective older sister to you

her role as your big sister was one that lucy arguably took the most pride in out of all of her duties in her life - and that had always been the case, even back in the days when she was a teenager, and would often forgo going out with her friends in order to play and spend time with you.

even when it meant clinging onto the reins that were attached to your backpack to prevent you from running off for dear life in worry as you toddled around giggling - finding it hilarious.

the pair of you had always been inseparable, and all you had ever wanted to be was like her, having decided the instant you were able to grasp the concept of her job - that you were going to be a footballer too.

so that’s exactly what you did, and lucy’s protectiveness over you only increased as you did so, especially when you received your first call up to the lionesses alongside her.

you were more than a decade younger than her, freshly faced and new to every part of what you were experiencing - being the youngest on the squad by a considerable amount, meaning that lucy worried about you constantly, even more than usual, and watched over you like a hawk.

-

a team day out exploring the city in a country you’d never been to before had the older girl as pale as a sheet just thinking about all of the different possibilities.

“stay with me - or one of the girls at all time, okay? please be careful. if anyone, and i mean anyone tries anything or makes you uncomfortable in any way you need to tell me immediately. this is a new place to us all so just be extra war-” you cut off her rambling before she talked herself to death, playfully rolling your eyes, insides secretly warming at how much she cared for you.

“luce, it’s okay. i know. i won’t wander off. i’m a big girl”

“okay.” she breathes, giving up on the remainder of her speech, instead settling for “i just remember you being so tiny you could fit in one of my hands like it was yesterday, and i just want you to be safe.”

“i promise. i’ll be fine.” you linked pinkies with her, knowing you’d be glued to her side regardless.

“don’t make me get the reins back out. i remember how much of a menace you were, running off all over the place!”

she pointed at you warningly, and if it weren’t for the stern expression across her features you would’ve laughed.

“that was when i was three!”

“i’m just saying! the threat remains!”

-

no matter how old you got, or how far you progressed in your career, lucy still would refuse to let you pay for anything, slipping you money with a wink and a finger held to her lips, like you were six again and giggling behind your parents back.

“you’re my baby sister, don’t be silly. absolutely not.” she would insist, playfully slapping your hand away as you reached for your purse, sticking a pile of notes or in its place.

“make sure you don’t spend it all at once, kay? i expect to see some change when you come out!” she called after you as you were pulled into the sweet shop by ella and alessia, who’s playful grins told lucy that she’d be very unlikely to see you return with any money to spare.

not that it mattered in the slightest really, she just loved teasing you and treasured looking after you, not quite ready to give it up, it being one of her favourite parts of her life, even when you were nearing being an adult yourself.

-

tried to fit in everything that you requested! thank you for it i enjoyed writing it - and happy new year!

not proof read so i apologise if there’s any mistakes

[clio-just-clio]

@detectivehole , unprompted, at 4 am

[Transcript:

"Jeremy Massachusetts 1985, get your ass downstairs right fucking now!" my mom yelled at me, early one morning. she's a real bitch when she's off her ketamine. that's my name, by the way, but everyone just calls me Jerma985. im 38 years old, highschool senior, with mid length chestnut brown hair and cerulean blue orbs. im kinda plain looking, but i think i'm passably pretty i guess. nothing like the other girls at school... like ludwig- he always gets all the boys. whatever. "coming, mom!" i shout down in an annoyed tone. i throw on a quick, sporty cute outfit; white tank top, blue shorts, white cartoon gloves, and black sneakers. i sweep my silky locks away from my face, and try to smile in my vanity mirror. it doesn't reach my eyes. "goodbye, michael. im off for another horrible day at Twitch High..." i say to my pet rat as i grab my backpack and baseball club gear and head for breakfast. when i get downstairs, i don't see any food. "mom," i ask, "what's going on?" she puts down her four cigarettes and glares at me with her burning, furious globes. "i ran out of money for drugs- even the cheap shit like pank paint to huff- so im selling you for crack money." "what?!" i yell, feeling like i've just been run through a meat grinder. "that's right. you new owner is outside right now. grab your shit and get the fuck outta here, you psycho." she says, fishing out a heroin needle. i turn away, holding back tears, and head for the door to accept my new fate- when i open it, i expect to be greeted by some freak who's going to just use me to farm content, but that's not the case. in front of me is my new owner, and he is...

"hey" he intones handsomely, "how many baseballs can you fit up your ass?"

...the one and only ballfondler!!!

like for part two of my jerma fanfiction]

[justaaveragereader]

Hihi!! First of all I love your writings and I've been meaning to ask for a long time teehee 🤭 It doesn't have to be long or a full fic but could I request a friends to lovers san smut where hes your best friend and gets jealous of you talking to this one guy constantly so one day while you're calling that guy he fucks you while youre on the phone 👀👀👀 sorry if its so specific djdjsjd thank you <33

Hello🖤! First off thank you for loving my work I love you. I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to this, but I’m here now, and hopefully don’t disappoint! Friends to lovers?!? Ooooweeee this was my first time, and I wanted to make this shorter but once again I couldn’t help myself😵‍💫this was such an amazing request how could I have shortened it😭?! Also never apologize about being specific, I LOVE when requests are specific it gives me a clear direction to head in!

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

Sharing Isn’t Caring

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Dom!San, Sub!Reader, Oral (Lotssss Of Pussy Eating), Possessiveness, Jealousy, Humiliation, San Is Down Bad For The Reader, If I Missed Anything…👀Lemme Know

✍️Masterlist✍️

“Idk why you even talk to that guy, he's a complete tool.”

“If he’s a tool what does that make you Sannie?”

Cutting your eyes to your childhood best friend. Whose eyes you swore almost popped out of his skull. You guys were constantly together, both of your friend groups had joked that you were last lovers in each lifetime. You’d be lying if you said that you stopped looking at San as a “best friend” a while ago, but you didn’t want to tread that murky water.

“Wh-What does that make me?! It makes me a guy who's looking out for his bestfriends best interest! I don’t trust this guy, you saw how he looked at me last time I brought you lunch?!?”

Letting out a huff, you finish zipping up your backpack. Cramming as many books in there as you can fit because this “tool of a guy” San was having a heart attack about was your lab partner.

“San, you slammed the bag down on the table, startling the poor guy. Then you decided to enjoy the scenery.”

“It was a nice area, I was enjoying the environment!”

“Choi San, we were in the library! It was 1:00pm on a Tuesday, everyone was in class or at work. There was nothing to see. Not to mention you sat right in between me and him!”

Smacking his lips, he kicks his foot slightly, you can see his blush creeping upon his neck, his eyes shooting down to the floor muttering not so quietly how he was just enjoying the view, and how the middle seat had the best view.

“San there was no middle seat, you literally dragged a chair in between me and him, I watched you pick up his chair and move the man down the table.”

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you walk up to San, putting your finger under his chin lifting his head so he locks eyes with you. He swore he could see his future play out in your eyes, maybe he was hallucinating, maybe he was a love struck idiot but he felt it, you were his person, you are his person.

“He’s just my lab partner, okay? Nothing more, nothing less.”

The redness from his neck traveled to his ears, lightly dusting his cheeks as well. He was so in love with you. Your face crinkled as you smiled at him, but the way you asserted yourself in one simple sentence just sent him over the edge. He could feel his heart pop like confetti, he also felt his cock come to life.

Squishing his cheeks in between your hands, flashing him a smile once more, turning on your heels towards his front door. You were big on being on time, entertaining Sans shenanigans you were always late. His body moves like it’s on autopilot, walking quickly towards your fleeing figure. Just as you open the door his hand comes up to close it. You can feel his heavy breath on the back of your head.

“San what are you doing?” You whine out, turning around to poke his chest. As your eyes shoot to him you see that look in his eyes, that look he’s given you many times. The same look he gives when you talk to a man too long for his liking.

“I really don’t want you han-.”

“Hold that thought, San!” Picking up your phone, you slide your thumb across the screen. His body puffs up, in an aggressive like manner, this lab partner was crossing too many boundaries with his person. It's almost like he’s underwater, seeing you smile, seeing you laugh at another man that isn’t him. You look at him with a face of confusion, eyebrows drawn up.

Biting his lip, you watch as his eyes darken. He’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen. The light that’s behind them dies, and fills with hunger, with ache, with possession. His hand comes to grip your hip, shoving you against the door. His body towers over yours, his chest crushes against yours. Putting the phone to the side, he can hear your lab partner continuing to talk. The chipper tone in his voice pisses him off even further.

“What are you doing?” You whisper/whimper, his knee coming up into between your thighs resting against your clothed cunt. You choke up at his sudden actions, everything feels like it’s happening so fast. His predatory gaze knocks the wind out of you.

“I’m not really too big on sharing, especially when it comes to you.” He whispers quietly into your ear, his warm breath sends a shiver down your spine. His cologne clouds your senses. Your cunt clenches around nothing, you have never wanted San more than you want him now.

“Y/n Y/n! Did you hear me?” Your lab partner's voice knocks some sense back into you. It feels like your tongue is knotted in your mouth, you feel his fingertips start to brush against your lower stomach, exploring the soft like skin.

“Well aren’t you going to answer him baby.” He whispers into your ear once more, giving your love a soft kiss. His smooth, cool lips on your heated skin is enough to have you driving yourself up the wall. You let out a quiet whimper, your hand dripping, practically letting the phone slip through your hands but San is quick enough to grip your wrist, making sure you don’t drop your phone.

“I’m-I’m he-RE!” You shout at the last part feeling San hike your body up even extra on his knee. Your clit rubbing against the fabric of your pants.

“Are you alright?” Your lab partner says through a laugh, continuing on about your guys' shared project. Sans kisses slowly turn into soft love bites, nipping at your skin leaving small welts behind. He was going to show everyone you were his. He was tired of this song and dance. He was going to take you, all of you.

Undoing the button on your pants, your eyes watch his every move, while he watches every move of yours. His glance is nothing short of wolfish, while your glance is nothing short of prey like.

“I’m going to take what’s mine, do you understand me?” You grunts into your ear. Rutting his hips against yours, you can feel the pulsation from his cock, mouth instantaneously starts to water. He was so much bigger than you imagined. Those late mates staying awake, riding your fingers to completion, curious as to how San would pleasure you, how he would fill you. Nodding your head thoughtlessly your eyes drop down to where his bulge is. Letting out a pathetic whimper you go to grab his hard on that’s straining against his sweats.

Your hand grips your phone muttering “mhms” and fake laughs to let your lab partner know you are still present, which irks San even more. Your attention is supposed to be on him fully.

Hiking your pants down to your ankles he helps you step out of them, kneeling down to help you, when he looks up, catching an eye full of your soaked panties practically calling his name. Your eyes flutter at the way he hawks down your clothed cunt.

Two fingers come up to grab the fabric, pulling it down slowly, as your cunt comes into sight he lets out a groan, not even hesitating he dives face first into your cunt. Causing you to let out a startled moan. His tongue instantly wraps around your clit giving it a good couple sucks before his hands travel up the back of your thighs, hiking one of over his shoulder, while both of his hands come to the back of both thighs prying them open even further to get more of his face into your cunt. He’s practically making out with your pussy, the wet slurping noises of him sucking down your clit, while his hands jiggle your thighs, giving them a light smack, causing your body to jerk in his hold.

His tongue explores more of you, moving down to your sopping hole, as soon as he sticks his tongue in your pussy let’s put a squelching noise. Which sounds like music to Sans ears. As he tongue dives further into you, his nose bumps against your clit. Your body almost caves over from the stimulation. His hand shoots up to your figure pushing you up right against the door. Surely all his neighbors heard what he was doing to you, surely your lab partner knew by now what was happening to you. Thrashing his head around so your clit gets bumped back and forth you drop your phone on the ground, San can hear your lab partners calls to you, asking if you are okay, yet you are so high on San the only thing you can make out is the way he’s feasting on your cunt. Sticking his tongue out, he rubs it all over your cunt making sure not to miss a spot, your cries fill the room.

“This pussy is so good, you've been giving my pussy away, huh? Answer me princess.” He groans, while continuing to slurp up your cunt.

“N-no! No!” You whimper out, back arching off of the front door.

Smacking the back of your thigh, he jiggles the meat of them once more, pulling his face back. Chest heaving up and down, he looks up at you, that playful glint in his eyes. He places a kiss right above your cunt, leading all the way up to your belly button. Small welts are left along the way. Spreading your thighs once more so there is a huge gap.

“You've been giving this pussy, my pussy to your lab partner?”

His face dives in the gap between your legs, letting the back of your thighs go so his face is fully engulfed in between you. Your cries ring out even louder in the room.

“No! I would never!” You cry out, you keep chanting to San how it’s his, and only his. Those words alone fuel his need for possession. Stretching his arm he picks up your dropped phone, noticing the call is still active, rolling his eyes at this guys pathetic ass. He shoves the phone towards you. Pulling his face from in between thighs. Your arousal is just dripping off his face, slapping against the floorboards beneath his kneeling figure.

“Tell him.” He says licking his lips, making sure to not let any of your juices go to waste. Grabbing the phone with shaky hands. Your body floods with embarrassment, yet the way San sees your pussy flutter around nothing he knows you're just as turned on as he is.

“Tell him who you belong to.”

Clearing your throat, your body heats with embarrassment. Your eyes never leave Sans watching as he gets a mouthful of cunt again. Making you stutter in your greeting to your lab partner.

“H-Hi.”

He slaps the back of your thighs harshly, sure to leave a small mark. Your eyes focus into San more who has his eyes closed while he tongues you up and down. He truly looks like he’s making out with someone, his eyes shut in pure bliss while his body is relaxed, hands roaming all over you.

“I belong to Choi San.” You quickly squeak out, not wanting this conversation with your lab partner to go on any further. Signifying that this partnership would not travel further than on school grounds.

“Tell him what I’m doing to you too.” He groans from your pussy, the bass of his voice vibrating all over making your toes curl. Letting out a whine you look at San silently pleading to hang up on your lab partner.

“Hes….hes eating my pussy…and he’s eating it real good” voice practically breathless.

“Now tell him you guys will not be friends. So he can get that out of his head.”

“We..we won’t be friends…” you say through a whimper, your dignity and pride was in hell right now.

“Lemme see the phone.” Shoving the phone to San you lay your head back against the door, his fingers coming up to rub small, slow circles around your pulsating clit.”

“You should see how I’m devouring her pretty pussy. It’s such a sight, she’s responsive too. One small flick to her clit and her eyes swell with tears. Probably wish this was you huh? Knuckle deep in her pussy, tongue fucking her, watching her come undone in your mouth.”

San hears shuffling on the other side of the phone, he knows your lab partner is still there.

“I know all about you, and the thing is I really don’t like sharing. Especially when it comes to her. So I think you should find a new partner, because if I catch you staring at my girl again. I’m going to bend her over the nearest surface and fuck her til she can’t even recognize you anymore.”

“I’ll fuck her so long and good, only thing she will be able to mutter is my name. So ima ask you do we have a clear understanding?

The lab partner hesitates to answer, both out of fear and horniness. How could he not be turned on by what he just heard, but he’s heard the stories about Choi San, and he’s not someone who you wanna cross.

Letting out a pathetic yes, he hurries and hangs up the phone. A cheshire cat-like smile crosses his face, pulling his fingers out of you, he stares up at your figure. Eyes shooting down to meet his own.

“No where was I?” He asks rhetorically before spreading your thighs once more.

DO NOT REPOST.

[denwritesandcries]

gf!Shauna Shipman HCs

Pairing: shauna shipman x fem!reader

Summary: To be Shauna's girlfriend is… Something else, to say at least.

Word count: 1,4k.

Content: 96’ timeline, cursing, suggestive, kissing, kinda toxic shauna, jealousy, fluff, the team being done with u two.

Note: I think that’s probably a little too long for headcanons but I’m really glad someone asked for it cause I love writing for Shauna sm.

English is not my first language.

- You most likely only spoke to each other because you were paired up on some project in a class that you both hate. A classic, but also one of the few ways for Shauna to actively approach anyone she hasn't known for years or been introduced to by Jackie, the girl isn't very sociable.

- She definitely found the most random and stupid reason possible to not like you at first, just because she enjoys being a little hater.

- Like she doesn't want to meet with you to discuss the topic and just leaves you to do your part alone and you just do it because this quiet girl on the football team is pretty hot and also scares the hell out of you.

- When you guys inevitably put it all together she'd take one look at it and say it's shit and make you do it all from scratch again in like one night as if it was your fault.

- And you simply wouldn't understand why she decided to pick on you. She’d have a beef with you that only exists in her head and you’ll be like??? Wondering why the heck she keeps staring at you like a judging hare even after getting (surprisingly) an A+.

(that’s a strangely accurate description, but you think it fits her perfectly well. Eyes widen following you and nose angrily twitching when you pass by.)

- She has a crush on you. Since the beginning. But she has too many problems to actually admit that to herself.

- She would finally admit that fell for you when she sees you reading something by an author she loves. She's a cliché and a failure, no matter how much she tries to deny it. You'd be in the stands during one of the Yellowjackets' practices (by pure chance, definitely not because you want to watch her too), with a notebook open at your side and a book on your lap, working on an assignment for extra credit, Shauna would see you when she stopped to have some water and she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else for the rest of the day.

Especially if it was something by Virginia Woolf, Emily Dickinson or Shirley Jackson. She’d go feral. Seriously.

- Then she finally decides to act (after some suspicious looks from Jackie and screams from Taissa for disturbing everyone during the game) and it's like she was never mean to you. She’ll literally act like she's already your friend because she doesn't know how to apologize and start something properly. Will sit next you in class – and kick out whoever actually sat there – and talk to you normally, looking away and chewing on the end of her pen, speaking in a soft and innocent voice.

- You're very much confused and a little suspicious about all this, but you're not gonna complain about it with her slowly running a hand up your arm and blinking her bright deep eyes at you. Even though she still stares. A lot.

- This is how you get a girlfriend, which isn't really what you expected at all, but it's a pretty welcome change.

- gf!Shauna who only asked you out and took you for a milkshake on your first date, even though she doesn't really like sweets, when she heard Nat tell Van that she was thinking about doing that exactly same thing and finally decided to do something (they did it on purpose, just so that Shauna would stop bothering them with her constant yearning).

- gf!Shauna who accompanies you to all your classes, sometimes even being late for hers. She is so show off carrying your backpack for you and walking close enough for your shoulders to brush and rushing to Jackie's side after opening the door for you.

- gf!Shauna who keeps a hand on you all the time, on your shoulder, on your waist, on your arm, but who is too shy to hold your hand and intertwine your fingers properly. She'll become a mess if you hold her hand in the hallways or in front of the team and pretend like she doesn't like it, complaining that you're being clingy (she won't let you let go of her hand at all though).

- gf!Shauna who is jealous and possessive as fuck, no one is safe from her, not even Jackie. She will shoot daggers with her eyes and scare anyone who even breathes near you in a way that makes her feel insecure. Especially if it's someone on the team. Lottie is usually a recurring target of her reactions, making a point of keeping as much distance as possible from Shauna on the field after she sees her talking to you.

- Will totally pretend not to care and say there's nothing wrong when you ask if she's alright, while silently seething with rage and acting weird towards you, keeping everything to herself until she eventually explodes. gf!Shauna who waits until she's alone to write shit about you and the other person in her diary with a horrible, rushed handwriting.

- gf!Shauna, with whom you have to be really patient.

- gf!Shauna with whom you have study dates where she actually makes you study because she won't admit being with someone with a poor average, but who will start kissing you pretty quick until she ends up straddling you the moment she gets tired and decides you both had enough.

- gf!Shauna who absolutely loves seeing you in the stands during practice or a game. She'll show off like never before as soon as she realizes you've come, especially if you yell or cheer for her when she scores a goal. Nat, Lottie and Tai are rolling eyes hard for you two every single time.

- gf!Shauna who takes you in her car wherever you want and whenever you want, driving with one hand on the steering and an elbow resting on the window. Who looks at you with her big eyes shining like a kicked puppy if you ever say you don't need a ride.

- gf!Shauna who has the worst, most questionable taste in movies ever and who gets outraged if you mention it or try to get her to change her choice on a movie night. She's too stubborn to change her mind, so you settle for admiring her profile and leaning back against her warm body on the couch.

- gf!Shauna with whom you have almost weekly sleepovers because her parents are too oblivious to realize there’s something between you. Sleeping in her bed under the pretext that the floor is too cold and keeping the door closed so as not to bother anyone with your teenage nonsense and loud music. It's the perfect combination.

- gf!Shauna who keeps her favorite polaroids of you on your dates alongside the photos of her and Jackie on her bedroom wall.

- gf!Shauna who's always the big spoon and loves feeling your body against hers. She's practically a furnace, perfect for hiding your face on her neck or chest. The best way to fall asleep is with her arms around you and your face buried in her soft skin.

- gf!Shauna who loves to bite and leave marks for every inch of exposed skin you have. Who bites your shoulder joint and digs her nails into your back when you have her pressed against the mattress or the lockers in the changing room.

- gf!Shauna who goes crazy when she sees you in her clothes, especially her button-down shirts and flannels. Sometimes even hides your clothes just to have the excuse to give you hers, because she doesn't know how to ask you to wear them.

- gf!Shauna who writes cheesy and lame love poems for you like a victorian poet, because she doesn't know how to express herself in words without being on impulse or in a fight. You always praise her and thank her a thousand times for them, without letting her know that you don't understand most of what she writes.

- gf!Shauna who demands you tell her you love her before she does it first. She literally asks for it. And then she only says it back weeks later, rushed and nervous, at the moment you least expect it.

[rayshippouuchiha]

MHA Au where Izuku’s quirk let’s him see spirits/monsters but instead of befriending them like usual, he becomes a whole ass monster hunter. I’m talking full on spn salt and burns, illegal fire arms in his backpack, monster journals, etc.

Hmm gonna switch it up a bit but:

Izuku's neighbor is a monster.

Hands fisted tightly in the length of his Mama's skirt, Izuku watches, wide-eyed and trembling, as his Mama chats softly with the thing in the elevator with them.

"Say goodbye to Akuhara-san, Izu-kun," Mama prompts gently.

But all Izuku can do is clutch tighter to her and whimper.

"I-I'm sorry," Mama frets softly as she ushers him out of the elevator. "He's not normally this shy."

"Adorable little thing," the thing called Akuhara croons, voice whispery and soft in a way that makes the hair on the back of Izuku's neck stand on end. "Could just ,,, eat him up."

When Izuku manages to peek around his Mama's leg and look Akuhara-san grins at him with too many teeth, one spindly hand raising to wiggle long gnarled fingers in Izuku's direction.

Izuku squeaks and hides his face again.

But even after he's back in the safety of the apartment he can't help but wonder just how someone with antlers as big as that thing's had been could fit inside the elevator.

~~~ Later, when it's time for bed, Izuku tries to tell his Mama about what he saw.

"Scary," Izuku manages to whimper, remembered terror tracing down his spine.

"Izuku!" Mama gasps, one hand coming up to press against her chest. "What a rude thing to say, young man! I don't want to hear anything like that out of you again, you hear me?"

"Y-Yes," Izuku whispers, unsure of what, exactly, he's done wrong.

The kiss Mama presses to his forehead is a bit shorter than normal.

Sleep is a long time coming for him that night.

~~~

He tries again though, after another run in with the monster.

Tries to tell her about how wrong Akuhara really is.

How that thing, whatever it is, is dangerous.

But ,,,

It doesn't go well.

~~~

Izuku looks at Akuhara and he sees something more than a man, something twisted and wrong, staring back at him.

But the problem is ,,,

Izuku's not the only one looking.

~~~

"I see you, little morsel," Akuhara whispers to Izuku, mouth split wide in a vicious grin as a long, black tongue slides out to flick almost teasingly in Izuku's direction.

Izuku can't help it ,,,

He screams.

~~~

"-ever been more humiliated in my life!" Mama says, hand tight around Izuku's wrist as she drags him into the apartment.

Izuku cowers just a bit when she finally releases him, shoulders hunched and head bowed.

Mama is never really angry with him, not like everyone else, so for Izuku this is just ,,,

Bad.

So much worse than Kacchan or the sensei at school being mean to him. So much worse than anything and everything the other kids have ever said or done to him.

"You will apologize to Akuhara-san," Mama finally huffs, hands planted on her hips and face flushed.

And Izuku ,,,

"No," It's a whisper but in the tense silence of the apartment, it might as well have been a shout.

"What did you say?" Mama blinks, obviously shocked.

He just can't anymore.

He's tried so hard to tell her, to make her see, and she still won't ,,,

"I-I'm not saying s-sorry to that, that thing," Izuku manages to shove the words out. "It's a m-monster. It's ugly and scary and you shouldn-"

The slap catches him off guard.

He yelps, hands flying up to clutch at the familiar throb of his cheek.

He's been hit before, gets hit often really these days, but never here, never at home where he's always been safe, and never by her.

"Y-You can't say things like that," Mama whispers, expression stricken as she clutches the hand she'd hit him with to her chest. "Y-You, Izuku, you can't just," she heaves in a shuddering breath, "just because you don't have a quirk doesn't mean you can say things like that about people who do."

Izuku's hands fall down to his sides as he stares up at her in horror.

And then he turns on his heel and runs to his bedroom.

Inko doesn't follow.

~~~

That night, with the bedroom door locked, his cheek still throbbing, and his chest heaving from the force of his sobs, Izuku tucks himself down in the darkest corner of his closet and cries himself almost sick.

~~~

It's not a quirk.

Izuku knows that.

Whatever it is about Akuhara-san that sets Izuku off so deeply isn't a quirk.

Izuku might only be nine years old and he might be quirkless but he knows quirks.

Whatever Akuhara-san is?

It's not natural.

~~~

Except, as Izuku learns through hours of research, hours of study and computer time when his Mama isn't home, maybe it is.

Maybe whatever it is that's pretending to be a regular man named Akuhara-san is actually very very natural.

And maybe that's not a good thing at all.

~~~

Izuku kills his first monster at 9 years old.

He comes out of the encounter bruised and bloody but alive and satisfied.

Come to find out, no matter how big a Jubokko's branches, not antlers as he'd first thought, are they're still vulnerable to salt and fire just like any other tree.

Inko never looks at him the same, never actually asks the questions Izuku can see lingering in her mouth but, well, she's alive and well and really that's all Izuku wanted in the first place.

~~~

Teeth gritted against the pain and careful of his bandaged arm, Izuku pulls a black-covered notebook from his desk and grabs a fresh pen.

Monster Analysis Vol 1 he scrawls across the front cover before he flips it open.

Akuhara-san might be gone but Izuku refuses to be caught unaware and vulnerable ever again.

[cxrsed-angel]

I ♡︎ DILFS

word count: 3k

Warnings: smut 18+ only (minors DNI), Daddy kink (kinda expected), established relationship, age gap (reader is between 24-25, Joel is in his 50s), oral (male receiving), fem!reader

A/N: I've always thought Joel was hot but Pedro Pascal playing him really did it for me, trying to improve my smut so I hope this is better than my last one. <3!!

You were going through an old building as a short cut you didn't realize it at first from the decay and rubble, but the more you looked around, you could see that it used to be a mall. You looked inside a store seeing if you could find anything useful when you spot it. It was a sign from fate; you go and grab the shirt and hold it up to look at. Considering what it's been through, it was in pretty good condition, like it was saved for you. You quickly take off your backpack and put it on. It was a little small; you assume it was a baby tee from the fit of it, but you had a long sleeve under, so you were still covered. You hear Ellie call your name and grab your stuff and run over to them. Joel starts walking, leading you out once he sees you, “Took you long enough come on lets get out of here” You see Ellie looking at the shirt, trying to read it.

 “I heart-i heart, whats a DILF?” Ellie asks more so to anyone than directly to her you could see the gears turning in her head trying to figure out what each letter means. 

You wish you could take a picture of Joel's face when he heard that, he turned around so fast, “Where the hell did you find that at” “C’mon Joel you know this is my brand, my whole motto, this is me, it was fate that brought me and this shirt together and Im never taking it off.” 

“Dead I Like, Deadly I-ok I give up what is it” you both ignored Ellie trying to figure out what DILFS are. 

“I can't take you anywhere, how do you always manage to find the most ridiculous shit during an apocalypse.”

 “Hey! what is it, I don't get it.” You hear Ellie shouting at you clearly annoyed, but youre more focused on Joel at the moment. 

“Aw Joel don't be jealous you know you're the only DILF for me” 

“Can you shut the hell up.” You giggled slightly at the clear annoyance in his voice. You loved messing with him when you can, and when it wouldn't put you in danger of course, you added some much-needed fun to his life. 

You finally leave the mall and walk out onto the road; you were so excited about your DILF shirt, you had an eye for things like this. You knew you couldn't take back everything you find but if it was small or something you really liked you took with you like when you found an old hello kitty watch, it didn't work, but it was still cute. Another time you found a Britney Spears poster in decent condition that was currently hanging up in your room, but the DILFS shirt was definitely your favorite after the poster. You were happy to add it to your little collection. 

“Can someone please explain what is a DILF I don't get it and why is Joel one?” Ellie asks for the billionth time, getting frustrated at you both for not listening to her. 

“Its da-”  You were interrupted by Joel his deep voice, a little upset at you for almost telling Ellie, you didnt think it was too inappropriate but he clearly disagreed. 

“Absolutely not youre not telling her she doesn't need to know, way too young for that, Im surprised you even know what it means” he responded, looking back at you mortified at where you had learned it from. 

“Hey! I was born before the pandemic you know” you tell him, reminding him that you’re not that young. Although compared to him, you were. 

“You were what 4, 5 when it happened can’t have remembered much before.” you heard the sass in his voice but you continue trying to prove that it shouldn't be surprising that you know what a DILF is. 

 “Okay, Im not ancient like you but still I had older friends, and we would talk about-” He interrupts you again, staring at you with frowned eyebrows. 

“Please stop there I really don’t want to know what you and your friends talk about, can we just change topics please.” If they told you about DILFs, he really didn't want to hear what else teens talked about in this world. 

“Dude c’mon, why can't you tell me, Im not a little kid.” Ellie says again, trying to get both of your attention and get you to explain it to her. You know now she’s not gonna let it go since Joel told her no. But you decided you’ll explain it later, especially after the whole playboy magazine situation, and she was around the same age you first heard it from your friends so you didnt see the issue.

“Alright from here until we get to where we are headed we are quiet, no one says a word unless you're dying got it” you could tell Joel had heard enough, and considering that you were outside you told it was best to listen to him and not distract him or yourself. 

“got it” “yes sir” you lean towards Ellie. “He’s in a mood today huh” deciding to bother him one last time before you would have be serious. 

She was about to respond until you walked right into Joel, giving you a yet intimidating glare frowning his eyebrows at you.  “alright alright, i’ll shut up.” 

After a couple hours of walking, Joel found a small safe building to sleep for the night, and you had been talking to Ellie until she fell asleep; you walk over into the room Joel was in, deciding to tease him again.

 “Hey daddy whatcha doing?” you call out in his direction, watching as he rolls his eyes at the name. 

“Stop.” he responded flatly, clearly not amused by your jokes, but you decided to keep them going. 

 “What's wrong Daddy does it make you flustered?” You thought he was going to give you another flat response or tell you to shut up. But you were wrong, instead, he stands up and walks over to you, standing closer than you anticipated, you try to step back slightly, but his arm around your waist prevents you from going too far. You feel the blood rush to your cheek and ears, your mouth goes dry, not knowing what to say or how to respond.

“Oh look who’s flustered now, sweetheart.” His deep voice teases you back, having more of an effect on you than your teasing did on him. You feel yourself get hotter, your brain is unable to focus anything except on how close he was and his rough hand around your waist forcing you closer to him, though you didn't mind. You continue blinking up at him, speechless.

“Youre so quiet now what happened, thought you were teasing me baby?” 

You continue to stare at his brown eyes, the only thing you brain was thinking way, wow hes so hot. You look up into his face, taking in his features. The wrinkles around his pretty brown eyes, the scars and cuts around his face. God you always thought he was attractive but it still amazes you how hot and pretty he was. You could look at him all day. 

He wraps both his hand around your waist, pulling you to him,places his lips on yours. You loved kissing Joel. It was rare having him kiss you while you weren’t in the safety of the QZ. He usually couldn’t relax enough to kiss you, needing to be alert and focused just in case. So this took you by surprise but his kisses always made you feel warm and safe, and in that moment, you didn't have to worry about anything. All that mattered was him. 

You wrap your hands around his neck as you deepen the kiss, pressing your lips against his rough lips, closing your eyes as you melt into his embrace; his hands lower down your waist and squeeze your ass, which surprises you so much that you let out a small gasp against his lips. Joel pulls away slightly, smiling at you “youre cute” His actions confused you; you rarely ever are intimate outside the walls, but you trusted him and if he felt comfortable you knew you were safe so you decided to mess with him “hmm I dont daddy youre pretty cute yourself.” 

He guides you over to the makeshift bed, leading you by your waist, making you walk backward, as you continue kissing him, parting your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside yours. 

 “You ain’t gonna stop are you” he asks he sits down and pulls you down onto his lap; you couldn’t tell iif he seriously was tired of you calling him that or if he just teasing too. 

 “what you don't like it Daddy?” you ask, trying to gauge his reaction you didn’t want to push it too far or actually make him uncomfortable. 

 “I never say that now did I, sweetheart?” again, he confused you does that mean he liked it or that he didn’t mind you joking about it? you stare at his face trying to see. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by him pulling your lips onto his again. But more aggressively than earlier, moaning into his mouth and rolling your hips against him as he gropes your ass through your jeans.

“Joel” You moan against his lips before you lean your head into his neck.

 “Aw baby what happened to daddy huh” you pull away, looking up at him with wide eyes, surprised. Did he like it? You look at his face and see his eyes full of lust, and you realized he liked it. He liked it when you called him daddy. You look down, suddenly getting shy and embarrassed about saying it. It was one thing saying it as a joke and teasing him about it, but to moan, it was different; it was dirtier. 

He saw you getting shy and flustered in his lap, avoiding eye contact with him. Unlike you, he could read you like the back of his hand; he could easily tell you were embarrassed.

“c’mon baby no need to be shy, I can tell you like too don’t you” he softly stroked your waist when one hand and squeezes your ass with the other. you take your gaze off the floor onto him. nodding in agreement with him.

“C’mon baby need you say it, you like calling me daddy don’t you” you could tell he wanted you to say it out loud, his hand rubbing small patterns on your waist encouraging you, reassuring you that you didn’t need to be embarrassed. 

“Yea i like it daddy” you mutter quietly, still ashamed to say in a serious setting. Not quite ready to admit to yourself that calling Joel daddy turned you on as much as it did. 

You didn't think you would like it or find it this attractive. Maybe it was your lack of a father growing up, and Joel being older than you. You didn't know why; all you knew is that once you said it, you felt yourself getting wetter. 

“hmm good girl” he takes your face into his hands, kissing you again; you slip your tongue into his mouth, his deep voice letting out a moan against your mouth. You couldnt help but grind and roll your hips against him, searching for any type of release. 

He goes to lift your shirt but stops slightly, rolling his eyes “Want me to fuck you in the I heart DILFS shirt dont you?” you look at him, nodding laughing a little “you know me so well.” 

He sighs and shakes his head. Although there’s disappointment in his voice, you can tell there’s also amusement. “ I do, dont why I tolerate you” 

 “You love me, cant live without me, I bring adventure into your life you’d be so bored without me.” you remind him why he puts up with you.

“Shut up” he mutters, though you sensed the amusement in his voice because he knows you’re right. As much as you annoyed him, he couldn’t imagine living without your teasing and antics. 

You unbutton his shirt and take it off, lightly grazing your fingers across his chest, admiring his chest and body, you see more scars and healed wounds but you also see his muscles. You’ve always loved his body. You remember the nights in your apartment placing, kissing along his waist, his chest, his stomach. 

You thought about placing marks on his chest but were interrupted by him unzipping your jeans and lifts your hips up to slide your pants off, you get off his lap, taking off the rest of your pants.  You unzip his pants, pulling them down, you stare at his bulge through his boxers and press kisses onto his dick, teasing him through his boxers. 

“Wanna suck you off” you mumble quietly, focusing on how much you need him in your mouth. You weren’t even sure he heard or understood you until you hear his deep voice speak to you, breaking you away from your thoughts. 

“What’d you say darling couldnt hear” You know he heard you he just wanted you to say it louder. 

“Can I please suck your dick daddy” you look up at him batting your eyelashes while you rub your hand against his hard dick. You feel his dick twitch against your hand while he bites his lip, suppressing a moan. 

“Goddamn darling you’re killing me” his texas accent getting stronger as he gets harder in his boxers, you loved hearing his deep texas accent come out as he gets more turned on by you. 

He pulls down his boxers, and no matter how many times you’ve seen his dick, you’re still in shocked at how big he is. You can’t help but to stare for a couple of seconds taking it in, you smile up at him before teasing him licking the tip gently as you lightly stroke him, you continue placing kitty licks on his dick. He shivers against your tongue, and you love it, love watching him fall apart because of you and seeing how much your mouth affected him. 

 You gather some spit in your mouth before you drool some onto his dick. He rolls his eyes back as you slowly stroke his cock in your hand, using your spit as lube. You hear his deep voice moaning as you lean down and lick the tip while still stroking him. You start to slowly speed your hand when you feel his hand lightly tugging your hair making you stop and stare up at him.

 “you’re gonna have to speed it up sweetheart.” 

That was all he said before his hand grabbed the back of your head and forced your lips onto his cock. You hollow your cheeks and take him in further, feeling your nose brush against his hair at the base of his cock. He moves his hips gently fucking your throat 

“Fuck you feel so good” he murmured under his breath, his voice deeper than his usual tone. You closed your eyes as you felt yourself starting to choke on him,he started to thrust his hips faster into your mouth. 

“C’mon baby look at me, look at daddy.” 

You couldn’t help but moan around him at his words, feeling yourself getting more turned on as he called himself daddy. You listen, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you continue taking him down your throat. 

“Atta girl, so pretty looking up at me like that.” you feel yourself getting warmer from his praise, loving how vocal he was, you wish you were back at his apartment so he could be louder without the risk of drawing unwanted and dangerous attention. 

He moves the hair that was falling in front of your face behind your ears “you look fucking gorgeous sucking my dick darling” feeling butterflies in your stomach as he compliments you.  

You take him out of your swollen lips when you start feeling dizzy from the lack of air; you continue to stroke him in your hands as you catch your breath until he puts his hand on your head, guiding your mouth back onto his cock. His deep voice moans out your name under his breath as he gets closer to his release. 

“fuck darling i’m close keep on-yes like that baby god you like this huh like having daddy’s dick in your mouth sweetheart?”

You nod as best you could, trying to agree, but all that comes out is your moans against his dick. You could tell he was close as his started to get slightly louder, but you could tell he was trying his best to be quiet. His deep voice, making your head go fuzzy in arousal. He start making you gag as he thrusting into your mouth faster , sloppy fucking into your mouth as he closer to his release. After a few more thrust you hear him moaning your name as he cums into your mouth. You feel his cum shoot into your mouth and down your throat.

You held your head onto his cock until he finish before you slowly took him out your mouth. He holds your cheek in his hands, lightly caressing them. 

“Open baby girl let me see.” you happily open your mouth, showing how you swallowed his cum. “Good girl baby c’mere” he pulls you onto his lap again before placing a kiss on your lips , softly biting your bottom lip before pulling away. He holds you in his lap for a couple of minutes. you lay your head on his shoulder as he softly rubs his hand up and down your back.

“if we were at home you know i’d take care of you right baby” his deep voice makes you lift your head off of him, looking into his eyes. Before you met Joel, you thought older men didn’t have much of a sex drive, you didn’t know if it was just Joel or all men in their 50s but he proved you wrong. There have been many nights in his room where he would fuck more than one time; the first time caught you by surprise. Of course, you both paid the price in the morning; both sore, aching muscles had to spend the next day in bed, not being able to do much. So you know he would have fuck if you were back at home. 

“Of course i do” you play with the hair at the back of his neck for a little while before getting off his lap so he could put his clothes back on, and you do the same. You didn't mind; you knew sucking him off was as much risk as he could take, and you didn't really feel comfortable enough to fuck out in the open like this. After you both have your clothes on, you lay down with Joel, wrapping your arms around his waist as he turned, pressing your back into your chest, falling asleep. Trying to rest before you’d have to walk back to the QZ in the morning.

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan both catching a cold and the reader takes care of them 🥺?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie x (nearly)stepmom!reader <3 all the established relationship fluff and love i could fit into 6k cw suggestive scene (fade to black) ♥︎ eddie and roan

Eddie feels like shit when he finishes work. He's sweating so much he had to change his coveralls before getting in the car, and his head is pounding with an aggressive headache, but he pops two Tylenol with a rogue bottle of water and pulls out of the lot. He beeps at Wayne as he drives past him, and then he starts on the road that'll take him to Hawkins Elementary. 

Roan's one of the youngest in her class but she sure doesn't look small sitting on the floor of her classroom. The door to the class is open, and Eddie feels a hundred miles better than he had when she catches sight of him and smiles at him like he's the best thing sliced bread. It amazes him that she seems so happy to see him day after day, each time like it's a marvel. Almost as if she's surprised. 

"Hey," he says, bending down to catch her as she runs toward him, her cardigan soft under his hands.

"Hello," she says happily.

"Hey," he says again, and this isn't the time or place to cuddle but he does it anyway. 

He indulges himself. Hugs from his daughter always make him feel better, especially when she's ecstatic to see him. 

"Got all your stuff?" 

"Yes," she says heavily. 

"Even your water bottle?" 

She shakes her shoulders. The water bottle inside of her backpack knocks against her lunch box. "Yes!" 

"Okay– let's go home." 

She beams. Eddie puts her down on her own two feet, her new cornflower blue sneakers like flowers blooming over asphalt with each step she takes. Eddie wonders what you did with all your spare cash before you started spoiling him and his girl, and he'd asked you once. You'd been sitting on the floor of a changing room with Roan, he could see your knees in the gap under the door as he waited outside, and you'd opened the door to show off the fancy dress Roan had been trying on and said, "My savings account was much healthier, but I mostly spent it on takeout. Now I got my own private chef, I don't need to get pizza so often." 

Roan had heard the word pizza and that was it. Dress shopping was paused for the day, and the three of you shared a large Margherita in the car on the way home. 

"What do we want for dinner today?" Eddie asks, Roan's hand swinging in his. 

"What do we got?" 

"I have lots of different pasta. Or we could make chicken." There's a plastic tupperware full of wings about to go bad. "Or maybe one of Y/N's favourites?" 

Roan hops down off of the club and keeps close to Eddie's side as they cross the parking lot to his car. 

Eddie doesn't wanna tell Roan you've been having a bad week because you don't wanna tell her, and it's not fair to kids to drag them down with you, but Eddie's not going to do that. He won't tell her your problem, how work has been making you especially miserable, how your coworkers aren't exactly kind. He'll just… express that you need some extra love. 

"If we could make something for her together, that would make her so happy. She's been feeling real blue," he says tentatively. 

Roan looks up at him with a frown. "She doesn't look blue. She looks normal'd." 

"It's an expression," he says fondly. "It means she's been kinda sad." 

Roan looks up at him, thick lashes kissing the skin below her eyebrows as her eyes widen. The neck of her soft blue cardigan is falling down one of her small shoulders, and he nudges her out of the way of the car door so he can get her in it before the cold catches up with her.

"Why is she sad?" she asks. 

Her concern is clear. Eddie lifts her up under the armpits and proudly doesn't bump her head, stationing her in her car seat. She doesn't need his help getting in anymore, but old habits die hard. 

"It's like… remember when those girls were picking on Stacey K, and she wanted to stay home from school? Y/N wants to stay home from work sometimes, but she has to be a big girl just like Stacey was and keep her head up." 

"I shouted at the girls," Roan says. She sounds quizzical. 

Eddie clips her seat belt over her chest and straightens out her knitted cardigan. "You're my bravest girl, that's why. You were a really good friend for Stacey." He kisses her forehead with a sticky, "Mwah!" 

She's still giggling when Eddie closes her door and gets into the driver's seat. She tapers off as Eddie twists his key and starts the engine, and doesn't talk again until they're almost home. Eddie doesn't worry — she's listening to the kids cassette in the stereo, and she gets tired after school. Despite his best efforts he's exhausted himself. He'll ask her about school once he's in his pyjamas. 

"Could you go into her job?" 

"What?" Eddie asks, not really listening as he reverses backward into the driveway outside of your house. His house, your house together. You and him and Roan and Lucky the goldfish. 

"Could you go be brave for mom?" 

He smiles. He likes when she calls you mom more than he can put into words. "I could, but she won't let me. And it might make things worse, you know?" 

"Why would it make things worse?"

"Uh, because grown ups don't really like when you try to tell them off."

"I don't like it either." 

"I know you don't, babe." 

Eddie gets out, releases the rascal, and the two of them jog up the few gentle steps to the door. He unlocks it and Roan stands patiently by the mat for him to take off her shoes. She could do it herself, but again — old habits die hard. He loves taking care of her and doing things for her, the little things and the big. Taking her shoes off is fun for both of them. She strokes hair out of his face so he's not blind and he squeezes her sock-clad toes until she squeals. 

She makes for the living room for her after school cartoons. 

"Hey, wait, Ro! I thought you were gonna help me make dinner?" 

She grumbles but it's with a good-natured spirit, spinning on her heel but remaining in the living room. "I got to feed Lucky, daddy." 

"Oh, right. You feed the fish, I'll get some jammies." 

She nods, determined. 

"Just a pinch! We don't want him to get fat and explode!" 

"Ew!"

Eddie finishes work at 3PM to grab Roan when her elementary school ends at 3.30. You finish work at 5PM, and you don't get home most days until near 6PM. It's a big gap where they both miss you like crazy, but it usually means that dinners all done or getting there when you finally drag yourself inside. 

Eddie can't lie, he hadn't pictured himself with a business woman. Though business might be the wrong word. You work an office job, and you wear professional office clothes, and God, it gets him pretty much every day. He prefers you in your pyjamas or your day clothes, sure, but there's something about you in your little pencil skirts and your soft cashmere sweaters, make up all smudgy and wearing off, kicking your short kitten heels in a pile at the door. 

You peel out of your coat and Eddie watches from the kitchen doorway, arms scrubbed clean of grease and crossed against his chest. 

"Hi, handsome," you say, more quietly than usual. 

"Hey," he says. His throat aches a little. He puts it down to needing a drink. "Hey, sweet thing. You look tired. Want me to cheer you up?" 

"Gotta see my girl first, sorry." 

He pretends you've stabbed him, not the dramatic, fall-to-the-floor affair he might've pulled a couple of years ago, but a stabbing all the same. He rubs his heart and doesn't feel even slightly mad with you when he hears Roan's happy cry. 

"You're home!" 

"You didn't think I was coming home today?" 

"You took six years," she says severely. 

"Six!" Your cheerful laughter draws Eddie in like a moth to a light. He slides down the hall and around the stairs to watch you take Roan's face into your hands, her pale ones behind your back to keep her balance where she's standing on the couch cushions. "You don't look nearly twelve, bubby." 

Your hand climbs her face. You press it to her forehead and he can hear your frown, though he can't see your face. "Are you feeling okay, Ro?" 

Roan blinks. "I feel happy." 

"Oh, do you? That's good!" 

You pick her up, one hand behind her back and one under her butt, messy curls all in your face when Roan wraps her arms around your neck. You carry her to Eddie where he's lingering in the doorway, shifting her on your hip, a concerned tug to your brows. 

Eddie brings a hand to her forehead himself, feeling along the warm skin gently. She's hotter than she should be. 

"You're sure you feel okay?" he asks her. 

Roan is confused by the attention, but she doesn't hate it. "Yes?" 

"You feel super hot." 

"I am super hot!" she says. She throws back her shoulders and does a practised pout, a model expression, her thin eyebrows bobbing down as she tries to wink. 

You glow with love, Eddie can pretty much see it in the air as you laugh. "Super hot," you second, giggling and dropping sneaky kisses against her temple. 

"You're beautiful," Eddie says pointedly. 

"Super beautiful." 

"Where'd you even learn that?" Eddie asks. "'Hot'?" 

"You say to mom in the morning?" Roan says, like Eddie's an idiot as the three of you make you way to the kitchen. "She's so hot, and pretty, and you need to crack the window!" 

Eddie covers his mouth. "You heard that?" He meets your eyes and he knows how he looks, a rosy tint taking to his otherwise pale cheeks. 

"And when you were singing, too." 

"Oh, my god." 

You laugh like crazy, giggles bubbling out of you like a soda rocket and quickly turning to bigger, fuller peels that would usually make him laugh too. He'd serenaded you this morning, a bumpy and extremely sincere rendition of As Long As It's Not About Love. He'd been trying to convince you to come back to bed, pencil skirt and all, for one last kiss.

"Roanie, I didn't know you were awake, baby. You should come and say hi once you're up." A warning would be good.

"I was too tired to move, daddy, I already told you." 

"Yeah, dad," you say, "she already told you, so back off." 

Eddie waves his hand at both of you. "Who needs you guys? I'll just eat this delicious dinner we made by myself."

He doesn't eat dinner by himself. He pulls the tray from the oven he'd covered over and you set the table. Roan pours juice into a cup for herself and doesn't tip any of it onto the table, for which she receives a heaping mound of praise. Eddie cracks open a can of ginger ale and pours it into a darker glass so you won't spot that it isn't normal soda and worry. He'll be fine in the morning, he knows. 

When you find out they've made your favourite, you get all mushy. You wrap your arms around his neck and rub your cheeks together, and you smile around every mouthful. You eat dinner as a family, and afterwards, Eddie lets Roan fill the bath right to the top with bubbles and brushes out her curls, which hang straight with the weight of the water. He gets her out, wraps her up in a poncho, and laments the loss of her baby curls as you sidle past him to wash the bubbles out of the bath and climb in the shower.

"Her hair's not as curly as mine was when I was a kid," he says, calling to be heard over the sound of the water. He can see your silhouette behind the shower curtain, an underwater scene of dolphins and tropical fish. 

"You think it'll get straighter?" you ask between squeezes of the shampoo bottle. 

Eddie rubs Roan's cheeks dry with a face towel gently. The hot water has pretty much knocked her out, her eyes drooping. "Probably. It's already way less curly than when she was a baby." 

He picks her up. She's limp. "I'm gonna go get her dressed!" 

"Okay, handsome, I'll be right out. Make sure there's still some hot water for you." 

Eddie dresses Roan and dries her hair with a blow dryer, cold air fighting against the fatigue stealing her away. She shivers and he turns it up to the first heat, careful not to burn her scalp. Eddie could barely look after himself at nineteen, and just around seven years later he's an expert in taking care of someone else. Well, maybe not an expert. He's good, though, and he tries hard enough and with enough pure love to make up for any mistakes. 

"You're so tired, babe," he says softly, clicking off the hairdryer to rake his fingers through her still warm hair. It looks very straight now, only the ends remaining curled. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

She reminds him of the quieter girl she'd been. Roan had taken a little time to come out of her shell, tantrums aside, and meeting you had pretty much rocketed her into extrovertedness. It happened slowly and all at once — one day she was just loud, and cheerful, and so, so charming. He loves her now and he'd loved her then. Quiet Roan is like an adorable treat, but it also points to bad tidings. 

Roan is quiet when she's sick, sad, or confused. 

Eddie's betting it's the first. He presses his hand against her forehead but of course she's warm, she'd been in a warm bath only twenty minutes ago. 

She doesn't answer him. She looks small in her big princess bed, her sheer cherry pink curtains hanging down to compliment the brand new and puffy quilt he'd bought for winter. Her legs are crossed, one bare foot sticking out. Eddie crouches in front of her, scratching the sole of her foot with his pinky nail to make her smile. 

"There's my girl." He flicks her knee. "You want me to read you something, sweetheart? I don't think we're gonna make it to the couch tonight." 

"Can we have Bad Cat Saves the World?" she asks. 

Eddie drags her up to the huge pillows against the headboard and pushes her chest mildly. She tips back into the pillows with a pleased huff. Her lack of outrage clues him in. 

Roan is sick. 

"You can have anything you want if you drink some water before bed." 

"Wugh," she says. 

"That's almost a real word. Good job, babe." 

"Thank you." 

—

You step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself quickly. The bathroom is thick with heat, so you push open the window and stand in the cold breeze. The window must be open in Roan's room, you realise, when you hear the dulcet tones of Eddie's reading voice floating toward you. 

"And Bad Cat said, no, Mr. President, I'm the one flying the plane! He wiggled his whiskers and pushed the wheel left with one of his ginger paws, the aeroplane shooting through the sky at top speed. I'm going to save the world, Bad Cat cried." 

Eddie does the best voices, truly. He's high and low, scratchy and sweet. He takes all the right pauses and kicks it up a notch at the most exciting parts, reading line after line in a whirl. Your skin feels dry and chapped as his voice begins to quieten; you've listened for too long. 

You step into your shared bedroom, pull on some underwear but no bra, and try to lotion up before he comes in and sees you naked. You don't know if he'll have Roan with him. The door creaks open and you squeak, forcing yourself deeper into the wardrobe you'd been searching through. 

"I'm not dressed!" you say. 

It wouldn't really matter if Roan saw you naked, she's just a baby and you're a family, but there's nothing wrong with having the boundary there either. Luckily there's no Roan in tow with Eddie either way. 

"Is that a promise?" he asks, and his eyes light up when he enters. 

You cross your arm over your chest and dig for a t-shirt to wear. 

"Don't look, perv." 

"We're getting married," he says. "I've seen it all already." 

"I don't care, perv, stay back." You slip a loose t-shirt over your head and bend down again for some pyjama pants. 

It doesn't matter what you say. Eddie comes up behind you where you're bending over and leans into you, arms needling around your waist, one greedy hand under your shirt and squeezing the soft roll of your stomach. You shoot up and smile at him from over your shoulder. It's odd. Despite what you'd joked, you don't mind him seeing you undressed. How could you? You've loved one another for longer than you ever could've imagined, in ways you didn't know people did. You know Eddie thinks you're beautiful, and you don't look like someone from the magazines. They're two coinciding facts. 

"She's sleeping?" you ask. 

"She wiped out completely. I think she might be coming down with something." 

You frown. "Poor baby." 

"It's alright. We'll take care of it as it comes." 

"We will." You nudge the tip of his nose with yours, aware of how quiet the house is, and how much you've missed him all day. "Are we going to bed, too?" 

His hands come up. It's not not sexual, but it's more intimate than anything else as he grabs at the soft skin of your torso and then, tentatively, your chest. 

Your lips drift closer and closer, and when he kisses you it's achingly slow, close-lipped. He pulls your back to his front and your crane your neck, hands covering his hands, eyes shuttering as he gets a little more insistent. It can only be a couple of seconds, held-breath heart-pounding seconds that make your tummy roll with heat, before he's pulling away. 

"Baby, I think I might be coming down with something, too." 

It takes a second for his words to calibrate. "You're sick?"

"My head's been pounding all day. I want you, but– I don't wanna get you sick," he says. He sounds so torn. 

"You're sure it's not a one day thing?" you ask, frowning. 

He swallows a lump in his throat. "Regretfully." 

If he's sick, and Roan's sick, you can't get sick too. It would throw a huge spanner in the works. Eddie's immune system is a sinking ship on a normal day. When he gets sick, it's bad. 

You untangle yourself from Eddie's grasp and feel his disappointment. It's sweet that he wants to keep you from the same fate as him. 

You take his face into your hands. 

"Go take a shower, handsome, and then…" You stare straight into his eyes, brown honey ringed with light. "We won't kiss. Or, you won't kiss me on the lips. Yeah?" 

He pulls your hand from his cheek to squeeze your fingers, a tight bunching full of promise. "Yeah. It's gonna break my heart–" 

"I'm sure," you say. 

"–but I'll make it up." 

You walk backwards out of his arms and flop languidly into the clean white sheets on your bed, toying with the bottom of your t-shirt. "Whatever you say, bub." 

Eddie sets the record for world's quickest shower that night. 

—

Eddie wakes up. He's expecting that post-sex bonelessness, like every bit of tension has been pulled from him by your delicate fingers, but instead feels as if he'd been hit by a truck. Last night had been the total opposite of rough. It isn't the sex that's messed him up. 

He's sick. 

Shit, he thinks, rubbing his dry face with a hand warmed by your back. 

You lay over his chest, your lips to his heart, the dark tattoo covering it. One hand crushed under your side curls weakly by his hip, and the other is hidden pretty much inside his armpit. He snorts at you and your blank expression, but smiles when he remembers the sweet, soft way you'd looked at him last night, your eyelashes heavy with unshed happy tears, your arms tight around his shoulder blades like you'd worried he'd disappear. He hadn't been able to kiss you like he wanted to, lips on your lips and just a little too much tongue, but he'd found the next best thing on the slope of your shoulder. He nudges your shirt down so he can peer at the poor scandalization of skin, that purple-red mess of burst capillaries wrought by his eager nibbling. 

As much as Eddie would like to laze about with you in the afterglow at night, you're grown-ups. Which isn't to say he doesn't get his hugs in after, he does —he cuddles you, lays praise down thick, blushes without fail when you do the same— but he and you have a whole post-fuck routine; cleaning up, throwing the towel in the washing machine, changing the sheets if you need to. 

Eddie will peek his head into Roan's room to check she's still sleeping, and, exhausted, the two of you go back to bed and fall asleep yourselves. He doesn't enjoy getting back into his pyjamas afterward, missing your skin pretty much instantly, but it's necessary, and proves to be when Roan pushes into your room that morning unannounced.

Eddie sits up and tries not to disturb you, finger to his lips. 

"My stomach hurts," she says. 

He eases you off of his chest and into the cool sheets where you usually sleep. He swings his legs around and finds it takes a lot more effort than usual. 

"Yeah? Hungry hurts or like you need the bathroom hurts?" 

"Just hurts," she says insistently. 

Eddie stands, tucks you in as fast as he's able and turns to Roan. She stands at the end of the bed unsurely, hair at her neck curled up with sweat, her usually white face an unfortunate pink. He puts his arms out for her, groaning when he pulls her up his chest, her knees either side of his hip. She wants a hug and Eddie wants a second to digest what's happening, so he stops right there in the middle of the room and hugs her too his chest. 

"Think you might be sick, baby," he says gently. 

"Do I get the strawberry medicine?" she asks. 

"Depends. Can you stop when you want to?" 

"What?" 

He laughs to himself. He wishes you were awake to laugh too, but he lets you sleep. "Yeah, you can have the strawberry medicine. How bad is it hurting, huh? Does your throat hurt?" 

"Maybe." 

He frowns at her tearful voice. "Oh, no… and your toes, are they orange?" 

"Don't think so," Roan says, stretching one of her legs out and analysing her toes. 

"Good," he says, giving you one last glance before he moves to the stairs, carrying Roan down them one careful step at a time. He doesn't trust his heavy head. "I thought for a second you had Alienitis." 

"Alien-ites?" she asks. 

He nods sagely, flicking on the hallway light as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. "It starts with a bad tummy, and then you start to turn orange from the toes until all your skin is shiny and slimy like a pool toy, and then your throat hurts." 

He turns on the kitchen light and sets Roan down on the counter near the fridge. 

"But you already have a bad tummy and a sore throat, so you definitely don't have Alienitis." He beams at her relieved face. "Thank the heavens." 

He peels the thermometer off of the fridge. It's a magnet, made of paper, and you press it to your kids forehead and let it sit for a minute before you read it. He slaps it on her with a pretend aggression to make her laugh, and they both wait for it to warm up. Eddie looks down at her. She looks up. 

"Come here often?" he asks. 

"All the time. Do you?" 

"Sometimes, yeah. See the game last night?"

"Which game?" she asks, pert nose wrinkling in confusion. 

"Any of them?" 

"I saw you and Y/N do the dishes dance." 

"How'd you rate that? Out of ten?" 

"You dropped your bowl." 

"A five, then." 

Roan presses her lips together. "She's always better." 

"That's not fair, my hands get all soapy from the water." 

Roan's temperature is a solid 102. 

"It's official, you're sick." He rubs her cheek, her ear, her hair soft under his hand. "But I'm gonna fix you right up good as new, babe, so don't worry." 

Roan leans back against the microwave oven and huffs forlornly. 

"Hey, it'll be fine. It's gonna be better than fine, Ro. We'll make sure you have lots of yummy drinks and medicine and I'm sure if we ask really nicely your mom'll make her soup, and…" He loves how much Roan loves you, leaning in to emphasise the importance of what he's about to say. "She'll snuggle with you all. Day. Long." 

"She will?" 

Is she kidding? The second you find out Roan has a temperature, he'll have to pry you away from her with a crowbar. 

"She will." 

"Can we wake her up?" 

He thinks about it. You've had a really hard week. You deserve to rest and catch up with the sleep you've been missing out on, but Roan's the confessed light of your life and she wants you. If he doesn't wake you up, you'll only ask why not.

"How about I put you on the couch with some TV and I'll go wake her up, and see how she's feeling?" 

Roan pouts. "I want to." 

He'd hoped to sneak in a hug, considering how his legs and arms and head are aching. But he finds it hard to be selfish when Roan looks the way she does now, her eyes pleadingly wide, thin brows threaded together at the starts. She puts her hands together. 

"Okay, you can do it. But try to be nice. No shouting in her ears. This is strictly a hug operation." 

Roan screws her hands in his shirt and he sets her down. She tiptoes down the hall, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom, Eddie behind her all the while unbearably enamoured. 

He helps her climb into your bed. You've twisted onto your back now, and Roan carefully crawls to your side, snuggling up under the arm that isn't covered by blankets. You don't wake at first, but Roan rubs your tummy, whispers, "Please wake up, Y/N," and you rouse like magic. Your eyes remain closed by life flares into your limbs, arms wrapping around Roan, pulling her onto your stomach and chest automatically. 

"I got a tummy ache," Roan says, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Your eyes open. Eddie suspects you don't even know he's there, your gaze locking onto Roan's. 

"Yeah? What's the matter, princess, do you need me to pat your back?" 

"No… it's all twisty. We took my tempa-chure and I'm too hot." 

You look first to your side where Eddie usually lies. 

"Over here, sweetness." 

You push yourself into a sitting position with Roan locked to your front, pressing the back of your free hand to her head as you look to him for confirmation. 

"One oh two," he says. 

You sit her in your lap and flatten out her frizzy hair uselessly. Your frown melds to a put upon smile, a mom face. It says everything's going to be okay.

"Well, we better fix you up then, huh? We'll havta call Uncle Wayne for some of his tools," —you clear your throat, the tired scratchiness in your voice ebbing— "and tighten all your screws again. How's that sound?" 

"I'm not a car," she laughs. 

"What? Since when?" 

You're soft in the mornings. Your eyes are swollen and puffy still, your voice a quiet but earnest hum. You look up over her head and he knows what you're thinking. 

"I'm okay," he says easily. "I'll go get the phone." 

Roan laughs full-belly. "Guys! I am not a car!" 

"You beep like one," you say, pretending to honk her nose. "Beep beep." 

It's the calm before the storm. 

—

Roan cries and cries and cries. She's in your lap again, but this time you're downstairs on the couch with her softest throw blanket and a pillow, rubbing her poor tummy. You've spent the day waiting for her to throw up, but no dice yet. Eddie's trying very hard to help you out, though he's practically paralysed by a migraine in the armchair. Each rattle of Roan's sobbing makes him wince. 

You have her propped against your chest, her shoulders heaving. There's an empty bucket used for washing the dishes at your feet. Roan is adamant she won't be sick. 

"Do you want to go to the bathroom again?" you ask softly, rubbing her trembling arms in hopes of soothing her. 

"No, I don't need to," she insists, "just hurts. I want more medicine, mommy." 

You crumple like wet tissues. "I know, princess. Another hour and you can have more, I promise." 

"I want it now."

"It's okay, Roan," Eddie says, jaw clenched but not a hint of anger in his voice. "You're alright, bub, you just need to calm down. All this crying is gonna make it worse." 

You hum your agreement. "Your dad's right. Let's try to calm down, should we? Is there something we can do to calm down? Maybe we should drink some more of dad's ginger ale, that might be yummy." 

"Let me take her," Eddie says. His skin is pale and waxy, sweat shimmering in the light across his brow and top lip.

You nibble your cheek. "Sweetheart," you say, and mean it intensely, "you can go up to bed if you need to." 

"I'm fine. Come on, give me back my girl. I'm gonna fix her with a magic spell." 

You try to transfer Roan from your lap to his. You've seen Eddie's spells in action, how he whispers words you don't don't know from a game he plays with his friends every other week, or every other other week when life is busy, pressing raspberries into the nape of her neck and tickling her arms. They're a surefire way to cure an owie. 

Roan doesn't want a magic spell, she wants medicine. She sobs and turns in your arms, seeking your comfort. She buries her face in the soft fabric of your sleep shirt. 

Eddie stands up to help, stricken by her increasing volume, and abruptly has to sit back down. 

"Eddie," you say, more severely than you mean to. "Sit down." 

"Sitting," he mumbles, dropping his head down between his knees, hands in his hair. 

He quickly lifts it with a groan. 

"Shit," he says. 

You shush Roan gently, lips near her ear. Your hand rubs a steadfast line down the curve of her spine, and when it comes back up you take a deep breath. You don't know if Roan understands what you're doing or if her pain simply starts to lessen, but long, tense minutes unravel into half an hour and she thankfully calms down, dipping into sleep after you dot her damp forehead with kisses.

"Eddie," you say, when you're sure she's knocked out. "Baby, are you okay?" 

"I'm sorry," he says, lifting his sweaty face from his hand. He looks heartbreakingly ill. 

"That's okay, I don't want any sorrys." 

"I didn't mean to make you deal with that alone." 

"Well, I wasn't alone," you say. "You're sitting right there." 

He presses the backs of his hands to his eye sockets and breathes out hard. You can't reach him with your hands, so you extend your leg until your ankle rubs against his. 

"You have a stomach ache?" 

"I think I have everything," he says. 

You pull Teddy, Roan's one eared teddy bear, off of the seat beside you, and then move the pillows and bowl of food Roan hadn't managed to eat to the other side. 

"Come and sit by me," you coax gently. 

Eddie looks stiff as a board as he stands and walks to the couch. He sits down slow, leaning back slower. He looks at the ceiling before he turns his neck to face you, one eye screwed shut. You suspect his migraine is pretty much debilitating him at this point. 

"Okay?" you murmur. 

"I'll live. Hopefully." 

He chuckles but stops with another sore wince. 

You drop your hand onto his knee. He looks sad. He looks like he's gonna pass out.

"Baby, you gotta tell me how bad you're feeling," you say,  nearly singing the words, hoping to inject that little bit of lightness he's missing back onto his pretty lips. 

"It's just my head–" 

"Thought it was everything?" 

"–is gonna explode," he concludes, flopping his face into your arm, one of his hands cupping Roan's back beside yours. 

"I'm really sorry, my love," you murmur. 

He huffs. He knows, as you know, that you're not sorry in that you think you made him sick. You're sorry that he's sick, sorry he's in any pain at all, sorry that Roan's down for the count as well. 

He turns his lips to your shoulder and leaves them there. 

"Everything's gonna be fine." 

"I know it, sweet thing." His voice sounds like it's made of crushed glass. 

When Eddie finally falls asleep, Roan wakes. You're damp everywhere they touch you— they're like two huge hot water bottles. Roan scrunches awake and you're sorry to do it, but you push Eddie away from you and climb out from under his weight, taking his mini me to the kitchen where the strawberry medicine calls her name. You plop her down in her chair with the cushion on the seat and spoon medicine into her mouth. She's too tired to realise she doesn't really like it. 

You wet the corner of a hand towel and wipe the sticky dribble off of her chin. You're patting her clammy forehead when she looks up. 

"Thanks, mommy," she says.

You frame her face, hand towel pressed to the side of her head. 

"You're welcome." You lean forward, tap your nose into hers. "I love you." 

You say it stretchy and sweet, like taffy. She lights up at the sound.

"I love you more," she says.

"No way, madam. I love you more than anybody." 

"I love you to the moon," she tries. 

"To the moon! I love you to the sun, then." 

"Is that further away?" she questions. 

You stroke her hair back from her face with your free hand, wrists on her shoulders. You do it nicely, fingers tangling in the downy soft strands of her curls, no rush to be anywhere but here. 

"It's a million trillion miles away," you guess. 

"Woah. That much?" 

You nod, head bobbing, "That much and more." 

"That's a lot of love," she says. Like a kid standing at the precipice of the world's biggest candy store, staring out at a million different shelves, a rainbow of colour reflected on her feverish cheeks. But she's not in a candy store at all, she's looking at you. 

"So much," you say, smiling. 

"Mmm… Woah." 

"Girls?" comes Eddie's voice, calling from the living room. "Everything cool?"

"Dad!" Roan shouts. "Guess what? Y/N said she loves me to the sun and it is a million'd miles away! That's more than the moon away!" 

Eddie groans. "Wait a second, don't be lovely without me. I'm…" His voice drops to a mutter. "I'm a weak man."

You wait but don't hear any footsteps. 

"Think we better go kiss him better, Ro," you say. 

She goes all shy. "Will you carry me again?" 

"Hm, let me think." 

You swoop her up into your arms so fast she's immediately hysterical, giggling at the sudden vertigo. 

"Girls," Eddie whines. "I can't get up. Stop having fun without me." 

"We're on our way with Tylenol!" you call. 

"I don't want Tylenol, I want love to the sun, or whatever." 

You princess carry Roan into the living room and settle back down in your seat next to Eddie, who, despite desperately needing the Tylenol you've brought with you, takes the kisses you offer first, featherlight kisses, all over his cheek. 

"That definitely wasn't enough," he says. He looks at you from between his lashes, slamming them shut again when he notices you watching. "C'mon girls, I'm sick."

"So's Roan and she's not making demands."

"I never said I was a good person, you know? I'm desperate." 

You give him one last kiss. He waves his hand and Roan gives him another. 

He sighs through a happy, sleepy smile. "Thank you. Now that felt like love to the sun." 

—

Bad Cat is a character from Stephen Chbosky's novel Imaginary Friend that I borrowed, he isn’t mine! thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging because it means so much to me <3<3<3<3

[fae-feeder]

When we go out, I've started keeping a score of the number of ~fat girl phrases~ you say.

At first it was just how often you asked for food. "I'm hungry again can we stop at a drive-thru?" or "I know we just ate but this place looks sooo good" in your excited, pleading voice. I never say no, and if there isn't a food spot nearby my backpack is full of treats - bags of mini-donuts and chocolate bars and a thermos of heavy cream for you to sip. You make excuses to friends who don't know you spend most days stuffing yourself in our apartment. "I'm just so hungry today I don't know what it is..."

But then we decided to create a little game out of it. With rules to make sure I get to show off how spoiled and dependent you really are.

One point when you ask for food. Two points when you ask me for help in situations where no normal, even marginally fit person would need a hand.

"Can you get that for me?" whenever anything is not within your arm's reach. That's a big rule - you don't move an inch if you don't have to.

"I really need to sit down" if you do have to walk more than a few steps. I'll make sure you get a seat as soon as possible. And when it's time to stand up, I always help you get back on your feet.

But the real prize is ten points when you admit you're too fat for something everyone else takes for granted. "I'm really not built for it" when a friend wants you to get up and dance with them. "I don't walk so far, I'm gonna need to borrow a scooter" when we go to the mall. "My fat ass? Only if we're driving" when we want to grab more munchies from the store down the block. You laugh when you say these things, like it's just a little self-deprecating joke that you've gotten too fat to walk around a store.

It doesn't matter if you really think you're too heavy and out-of-shape to do it. There's a look I give you. A playful look that says "you're fat, you're the fattest person most of us know, go ahead and act like it". And when I give you that look, you know you're playing the role of the girl who got so fat that she can barely stand up on her own. A spoiled and overfed princess who relies on her girlfriend for anything remotely physical. And you love it.