#deviant blades

[regenesis01]

PRIS, from Cyberpunk 1982

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 4

______________________

"why are they... Bedazzled?" Charles asks, looking at the mass of weapons ranging in designs

Some weapons look like they came straight off Genshin impact, while some look like (Name) just copied off weapon designs from deviant art

One weapon, a claymore, had intricate details on the blade, showing a story, a war, some caves and oceans, and a kingdom

"I got bored so I decided to carve the odyssey on the blade" you smile

They left you alone, in the forgery, for like 12 hours or something, came back to call you for dinner, and they see this

"I have ones, I made for myself, the others we can put in the armory-"

"Ehem, (Name)? May I have a moment with you?" Chiron, is this awesome centaur

When he first saw you he took you to the big house and healed your injuries

"Yes..?" You ask, did you do something wrong? Are unclaimed kids not allowed to stay in the territory of claimed kids? Technically this was a child of Hephaestus thing- but you were brought here? And-

"someone wants to speak with you" Chiron continues and you were snapped out your thoughts

"She is a daughter of Zeus, and I believe you know her already the last time I saw her was when she was a child, still staying on her home island, she is a trust worthy woman" he explained further

This doesn't calm your nerves, cause why, why does a child of Zeus want to see you?

Suddenly a familiar woman walks closer to you "Hey (Name), I was worried sick you know, you could have left a note"

"Diana!" You yell and run up to hug her

You love Diana, back when you were still a robin, and Batman bought you and Damian to meet the justice league

You were left alone in the corner while superman and Batman talked about Jon's and Damian's potential

The other members approached you, one of the reasons you loved being a vigilante was because of them, you had someone to talk to

Flash was like the funny uncle and green arrow was the uncle who tried to one up batman, they were all awesome, but you're favorite was Diana

She had this glow, not glow like green lantern- but this sense that you really mattered to her

____________________

"you're also a demigod?!" You exclaim in surprise, she nods while smiling

She holds your hand "I was thinking you were one too actually, but I didn't have enough proof, Bruce always said you were a target for mutants that's why you had to stop being a vigilante, but it's clear that those were actually monsters"

But then she went quiet "Why don't you come back (Name)? I'll explain everything to Bruce and I'm sure more precautions for your safety would be taken care of"

No it won't.

"D-diana... I don't want to return" you said meekly

"what... Why?"

"I- I'm not welcome back home... See Bruce and his kids- they don't think I'm special enough to stay in their family" you say

"... excuse me?" Diana's demeanor changed, like a cold air blowing over her

You shift and hesitate, but you decide to pull through, it was like a dam burst

Your tears blur your vision, as you go over every general and specific event that you felt unloved and unwanted

You weren't stupid, just because you never received love doesn't mean you don't know what it is, you could tell if someone didn't want you, because you've seen how they love

You've seen how Bruce got protective of his kids, how he cares about them in his own way, how the batsibs have their own dynamics, they claim to dislike each other yet are always by their side when needed

It was just never towards you.

You know what love what, and your relationship with those people, that wasn't love

It was indifference, you remember the first time Barbara talked to you is when you fought with Tim and she yelled at you backing her brother up

It wasn't too late, you could still receive what you've been craving for, but for sure you don't want it from the Wayne's

A few weeks after Damian appeared, his bullying towards you that has gotten worse by the day, you decided to retaliate

_______________________

(Name) Wayne 11 years old

Slap

Ouch, you thought

Jason Todd, the man who claimed Damian was a demon spawn, the man who picked on Damian jokingly

He slapped you for Damian

It was one of those rainy days in Gotham, you're in school, you were having a quiet day till the teacher called out your name

"(Name)! Two days to do the assignment and you passed nothing?! Don't make excuses child, your brother Damian was able to pass it"

You look up confused "But miss I did pass my work"

"where is it!?? Am I a special case of blind that I can see everyone's work but yours?!"

The laughs and Snickers of your classmates echo in the room

Damian had taken your work, and passed it as his

That fucker-

After school back in the mansion you lunge at him

"you spoiled asshole!" Unfortunately Jason was there, and the person who was usually a Damian hater became his apologist cause he went straight to help him

You explained what happened, of course you did, but even after knowing he stood his ground, he even told father and now you're punished

Isolation (as if you weren't isolated enough)

You could live like this, live every day without seeing them

Then it happened, Stephanie was in danger, well both of you were

It was one of Bruce's galas, the Wayne family was staying in a private room, and Harley Quinn broke in, laughing like a maniac, she grabbed the ones near her and which were you and Steph

On hostage both of you, Dick made a move to save Steph, he ran in her direction to try and pry Steph off Quinn's arms

Damian shot the Harley's leg, the one near Steph of course so she had a better chance of getting away

Once Steph was free, Cass hugged her

And then Tim, oh fucking tim

He used his electric staff to electrocute Harley, while she was still holding you

For a great detective he's quite an idiot.

That was it, he didn't even get in trouble with Bruce for that, they tied up Harley quietly and decided to proceed with the gala

Without you of course, come on, you're injured, why would you go with them?

It was like a switch flipped, after that not once have you ever tried to make them love you.

_________________________

"you can't make me go back there- Diana please!" You sob

She hugged you tight "I won't, I won't- I'll find a way to keep Bruce from finding you, I promise"

She kissed your forehead "For now... I want you to keep trying, make friends, if your parent claims you, you'll have new siblings"

"for now, be happy"

__________________________

Ivan Werner sat beside you, he was one of Hephaestus's kids that you made friends with earlier

Diana left a while ago and you were left trying to stop yourself from crying

"the conversation was that intense?" He hands you a handkerchief

You smile and accept "Yeah... It was- about my mortal family, they weren't really the best people"

"I hear that, my mother was a mad inventor who sold inventions that would self destruct to cause harm for the buyers" he says

Your brows furrowed at the implication Ivan's mom might be a villain

"hey- everyone has their past, that's why they end up here, I hope you find your place here in camp (Name), we really like you here"

KEOEOWHFVSBJAIEBD BE AKHRJEO WOSLAKDNDNNSKW

A flash of light appears before the both of you

You take your time trying to adjust your eyes, and you see the campers, Mr.D and Chiron there

"Out of everyone here!?!? You decide to- fraternize with a child of Hephaestus!?! I WONT ALLOW IT, you're too beautiful for him my darling!"

What the fuck?? Who is this extremely rude and gorgeous floating lady?

You haven't even registered the fact that now you're wearing a chitton, your hair has been decorated with pearls and small intricate gold flowers

A pink aura making you glow

"what's going on!?!?" You ask panicked

The beautiful gorgeous, ethereal, pretty, cute, hot, sexy, dashing, charming lady goes to the ground

"Hi dearest!" She smiles

You hear Chiron clear his throat "(Name) Wayne! Child of Aphrodite!"

_______________________

I had the godly parent chosen from the start acc, I wrote this fic with her in mind

A child of love without receiving any

Hope you like the chapter! :3

@nathaly36 @erikasurfer @jisnothere @bat1212 @sweetconnoisseurgardener @vanessa-boo

[shockercoco]

Unconventional Confessions

Austin Butler x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, fingering/fingering in front of mirror, dirty talk, squirting, oh no he's hot!

Word count - 1759

a/n - It took me 30 minutes to choose a gif and I’m still not happy with it lol. Here's the winner of the poll so I hope you enjoy :)

“So, did you enjoy it?” Austin asks you over the commotion in the theater.

Austin had brought you as his date to the premiere of Dune, a new movie he had a part in. As soon as the credits began rolling, everyone in the audience stood up to applaud the performance of the cast members, including you. Although, your applause was targeted more towards Austin and his performance.

You walked into the movie not expecting to find your boyfriend’s character attractive, like you have in the past with his other roles. After all, he played a pale, bald psychotic sadist with black teeth – someone that most people would be disgusted by. 

Not you, though, because as soon as Feyd came on screen you were drawn in, not just because of how good he looked shirtless, but from his strange and deviant behavior. The way he dragged his tongue against his blade, how unsympathetic he was for human life, how he laughed and drooled in the face of danger all weirdly had an affect on you.

 You noticed this when you felt your insides turn, and when you glanced down at your lap you saw that you had unconsciously crossed your legs. You knew how much Austin takes his career seriously and how easily it was for him to immerse himself into his roles, but you never expected this from him.

“I loved it. The sound, the acting, the cinematography – it was all amazing,” you smile as you turn to look up at him. You’ve always had a love for film, and Austin knew this and loved that about you.

A smile forms on Austin’s face at your response as he leans down to hug you and to place a quick kiss on your lips.

The ride back to the hotel was long due to New York traffic, but Austin decided to take this time to pull up the partition and put you into his lap and kiss you. He always did this in the car after an event or party, and each time you would tell him no, given the fact it was dangerous to not have your seatbelt on, but you always end up caving in the end.

You decide to take a shower when you arrive back at the hotel, not only to get clean, but to calm your nerves. After you get out and begin your skin care, Austin enters the bathroom and wraps his arms around you from behind, placing his chin atop your head.

“I know I already asked you if you liked the movie, but what did you think of me?” he asks as he looks at you through the mirror. Austin would always overthink when it came to his acting and would come to you for reassurance.

“You were great, just like you always are,” you tell him as you continue on with your routine.

He groans and gives your hips a squeeze. “Come on, you gotta give me more than that.”

You smile at him through the mirror. “I really enjoyed your performance, given the fact you’ve never done anything like that. You were unrecognizable, and not just because of the makeup,” you laughed,” Your deduction really paid off.”

You watch as Austin beams at your response. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Anything else?” he asks you.

Yes, yes there is.

“Well, I may or may not have found Feyd attractive, even though he’s mentally unstable. Too bad we won’t see him in the next movie.” you fake sadness towards the end. You talk casually as if what you said was minor.

You watch as Austin lights up and lifts his head. He raises his eyebrows with a smirk. “Is that right?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head, “it just sucks that you’re not him.”

And you guess that set him off because next thing you know he’s pulling you even closer into him as he places soft kisses on your neck. You laugh and playfully try to shove him off, but Austin just laughs into your ear and continues as one his hands begins to slowly travel south. When you feel his hand reach the waistband of your pajama shorts you freeze. You look at Austin through the mirror to see that his gaze is already on you, a sly smile showing on his face.

“If you couldn’t tell, I’m a little busy right now,” you joke.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account. Just pretend I’m not even here,” he says without taking his eyes away from yours. You stare back at him for a second before starting the last step of your routine – brushing your teeth. Austin keeps his focus on your face.

Just as you were reaching for your toothbrush, his hand dips inside your shorts and stops when his fingers reach your clit over your underwear. You tightly grip the toothbrush in your hand when you feel his fingers start to lightly rub circles into you through the fabric. You can already feel yourself getting wet from the teasing, warmth pooling in your lower half. As you reach for the toothpaste, he adds more pressure to your clit, and you clench your teeth to keep the sounds in your throat from escaping.

Austin smirks to himself once he notices the tension in your jaw, which you feel as it forms on his lips that are still attached to your neck. When you reach for the toothpaste, he begins to glide his fingers up and down your slit through your underwear, feeling the damp fabric.

As you begin to squeeze the toothpaste on your toothbrush, you feel Austin’s hand quickly dip inside the waistband of your underwear and collect your arousal on his fingers before spreading it through your folds. This time you can’t stop the moan from escaping your lips as your mouth falls open.

“I said don’t stop,” he whispers into your ear and ends the sentence with a kiss behind your ear, causing a shiver to make its way through your body. You look at him in the mirror to see his eyes still on you, feeling another wave of heat run through your body from the eye contact.

You go to squeeze the toothpaste on your toothbrush only to feel Austin shove a finger into your opening. You have to brace yourself against the counter as you feel your walls welcome him in, but Austin keeps his finger still inside of you, waiting for you to continue. 

When you lift the toothbrush to your lips with an unsteady hand, he pushes a second finger into you. Another moan leaves your mouth as you feel yourself stretch around him, and once you feel his fingers move inside you, you immediately drop the toothbrush and toothbrush for it to land in the sink. There’s no way you can carry on now.

Austin laughs at your reaction and continues to thrust his fingers inside of you as he finally lifts his head away from the crease of your neck to fully watch your facial expressions. He gradually increases the speed of his fingers and tightly wraps his unoccupied arm around your waist when you begin to squirm against his front. You feel his hard length against your backside, turning you on even more, but your main focus is the fingers pushing in and out of you with persistence.

You place one hand back on the counter and use the other to cling onto the arm around your waist. You feel your head drop and your eyes squeeze shut as whines fall out of your mouth, but Austin isn’t a fan of this. He removes the arm from your waist and grips your chin, forcing you to look up.

“Keep your eyes open,” he says, and you whine at his words. 

“Austin-” you start, but he cuts you off.

“Keep your eyes open.”

You pry your eyes open and look at the hand moving in your shorts. Austin gives your chin another squeeze and pushes it up for you to look at him through the mirror. He smirks at your present state, and if it wasn’t for him currently pleasing you, you would slap that smirk off his face. He knows you hate prolonged eye contact.

“You fall apart so easily, don’t you?” he asks, and you weren’t aware he wanted you to answer until he repeats, “don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out.

His fingers arrive at that special spongy spot inside of you, making your body jerk and your jaw go slack. He continuously hits the area with precision as he curls his fingers into you. His arm finds its place around your waist again once you start to writhe against him. You squeal as he speeds his fingers up even more, causing wet squelches to fall out of your soaked cunt, the sound echoing in your ears.

You feel the pressure in your quickly building up, and you close your eyes again – it’s taking too much energy to continue holding them open. This time Austin lets you. One of your hands moves down towards his wrist, but he quickly grabs it and holds against you as his arm wraps around you once again. Your thighs squeeze together as the pressure becomes too much and you come closer and closer to your climax, but this doesn’t stop him.

Austin feels your walls tighten and flutter around his fingers, and he does everything to make you fall over the edge. You let out a silent cry as your orgasm makes its way through your limbs.

He continues to push his fingers in and out of you to prolong your pleasure, and you let out a cry as you feel a gush of liquid fall out of you. It soaks your underwear and shorts as it makes its way down your leg. Austin still doesn’t let up on his pace so you go to squeeze his wrist, and he begins to slow his movements.

When he finally stops, he pulls his fingers out of you and brings them up to his mouth to suck the taste of you off. Despite your energy being drained, you still manage to roll your eyes at him.

“Come on, sweetheart, round two in the bedroom. You need to lay down, your legs must be tired from standing,” he smirks and gives you a wink as he backs away from you and heads out the bathroom.

You grab the tube of toothpaste from the sink and chuck it at his head, but you miss, making Austin laugh.

[moon1833]

OBSESSED- Yuuta Okkotsu

“I’m sorry, I tried to be patient.”

Inc: Female reader, reader is a jujitsu sorcerer, obsessive Yuuta, mildly yandere Yuuta, reader is lowkey just as insane, smut, 18+ characters, p in v, beach sex, post resurrection sex, biting, mentions of blood

There was something so deeply different about Yuuta Okkotsu. Maybe it was how his very existence changed your entire knowledge of jujitsu sorcery, or how he carried the second most intense cursed energy you've felt in your life, you weren't sure. Maybe it had something to do with his pretty doe eyes.

When you first met Okkotsu when you were seventeen, you would've thought he was too delicate for this world. He was a sweet boy, he didn't look you in the eyes for a month when he first arrived at Jujitsu High. He baked for his classmates, and he makes you come to his dorm if he's unfortunate enough to find a bug of any sort in his room.

As you got to know him, you noticed something else, something heroic. Besides that, there was something almost deviant deep within him.

That was why you believed he would become one of the greatest sorcerers of your time; he was crazy.

It wasn't so obvious at first. Okkotsu wasn't flashy or loud, even if the cursed spirit practically leeching off of him was so powerful it was almost headache inducing.

The first time you knew he was utterly batshit, was about a year after you had met him.

Being a grade one sorcerer meant you went on almost every mission with him, not that you minded in the slightest. In this particular mission, you were coming off of a leg injury, and you probably shouldn't have been cleared as early as you had been.

There was still a small limp in your steps and your mind was a bit foggy. That, along with your minor crush on the boy beside you had completely distracted you from the giant curse breaking through the ground beneath you, catching you in your grasp.

You hardly had time to recognize it, one second you were peacefully admiring Yuuta's side profile, not a trace of cursed energy that didn't belong to you or his around you, and the next there was a thick hand grasping you to it's chest, mumbling a soft "mine, mine, mine" as it dragged you away.

In your defense, this was definitely not the second grade curse you were sent out to exercise. Even at the time, your senses told you so. You hardly had a moment to register a plan to escape the curses hold before its grip loosens, and you're falling to the ground.

The winds knocked from your lungs, but you jump to your feet quickly, ready to fight the curse before it could get to Yuuta. Instead, you're met with the sight of a limp body, chunky purple blood pouring from what looked like its head was.

It was a rat. A giant, furry, ten-foot tall rat.

To the left of it stood Yuuta, panting while facing away from you. From your position, you could see his katana drawn, blood leaking from its blade. You’re confused for a moment, Rika hadn’t been let out at all, so how could he possibly have moved that quickly?

He turns to you, the sickly innocent smile on his face that you know so well not even twitching. Your eyes flickered to his hand, only now taking notice of the fat head he's grasping by the scalp.

Yuuta always smiled at you when he saw you. Not a cheap one, either. Always, and eager, molar showing, bright grin that felt out of place in your world.

This one was a bit different. There was a small darkness lingering in his dimples, almost playfully. Like it was amusing to him that something thought it could just take you like that.

He threw the head to the side, jogging up to you to check if you were okay. His hand flew to your torso, grazing your stomach. Only then did you realized you had been bleeding there, the rat-curse's nails must've dug past your shirt and into your skin when it grabbed you.

Still, his hands on your bare torso made your heartbeat pick up, especially when his touch was so gentle.

He flushed when he realized, and your mind almost felt numb with how fast his emotions had changed in the last two minutes. It almost made you forget about how his cute, fragile persona melted away into something so sinister.

If you were any more sane than Yuuta, you would've been afraid. If you were any more sane, you wouldn't of replayed how his head tilted, how a little blood made it's way onto his face, how his knuckles tightened around the mangled head in his hands. If you were any more sane, you wouldn't have finger-fucked yourself the moment you got back to your dorm.

But, the truth was, there were no sane sorcerers, and you were no exception.

The second time you bore witness to Yuuta loosing complete control was about a full year later.

A lot had changed, but him being your mission partner didn’t. You two were taking on a curse that would usually be left to Gojo, but instead ended up in your hands.

You studied the limited information in front of you, drowning out the crowd of people on the train. Yuuta sat next to you, pretending to read the document over your shoulder while he breathed in your scent.

The case had sent you to the edge of Tokyo, seven people had gone missing under suspicion circumstances from a nearby beach.

You had theorized with Gojo about what it could be, but he was even less help than expected. It didn’t help that it was almost midnight, and you hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.

Yuuta must’ve sensed your drowsiness, because he took the document from your grasp, a glint of concern on his expression.

“Get some rest, we still have another hour and a half before we get there.” His voice is so clear against your ears it almost jolts you awake. Instead, you nod, letting your head lay against the seat.

When your eyes flutter close, Yuuta feels a new sense of protection overwhelming him. You trusted him enough to put yourself in a position of complete vulnerability. He widens his legs slightly, a small glare looking over the crowd.

The train hits a curve, and your head lolls uncontrollably to the side. Gently, Yuuta places his shoulder under your temple. Gladly, you nuzzle your face into him, finding a comfortable position before drifting off again.

For the next 87 minutes, he did not take his eyes off of you.

-

You yawned stepping away from the tracks, half aware of your grip on Yuuta’s sleeve. He seemed happy leading you out of the station like this, and you were too tired to object.

When the cold air hits you, there’s a slight regret in your choice of clothing. The jacket you had over your long sleeve button down did less than you had anticipated, and even your thickest tights weren’t doing much under your skirt. You were going to be freezing when you got to the water.

The sand made your balance a little wobbly as you walked, the night sky reflecting sharply against the ocean waves.

Even with the coldness racking through you, the lingering cursed energy was stronger. Whatever was here was definitely at least a grade one.

Starting your investigation, you began walking down the coast while trying to keep your skirt from drifting up.

“It’s in the ocean.” You conceded, calling back over your shoulder.

In the dark, you can see Yuuta narrow his eyes in thought. “Let’s check out the dock.”

You nod in agreement, falling into step with him. The dock went about 100 feet past the shore, but it was old and creaky.

With each step, you felt closer and closer to the curse, using your technique to form a throwing knife and letting it rest in your palm.

Suddenly, the energy increases so dramatically it almost knocks the breath out of you, and thunder cracked above your head.

You summon another knife, coming into stance as something emerges from the water. It’s hard to tell in the darkness, and for a moment you thought it was a lump of stretched out skin.

Normally, you’d like more time to assess the situation, especially when you can hardly see what you’re throwing at, but you had figured out already if the curse got you or Yuuta in the water you’d be in trouble.

You weren’t sure, but the lightening above you probably had something to do with the curse, and no bodies had been recovered.

You threw the knife, aiming to take off one of its limbs. You succeeded, the appendage falling off completely in a sickly sound.

You didn’t have time to congratulate yourself, because by the time you had realized you had hit the curse, the arm had grown back.

Behind you, the dock ripped open, a plank of wood hitting you in the back. Another arm had crashed through, a giant hole pushing you and Yuuta. He called out your name, but the blood was rushing to your ears so violently you almost couldn’t hear him.

“I’m okay!” You shouted, but before you could add anything else, something wrapped around your feet and dragged you upside down. Instead of fearing for your life, you were thankful you wore shorts under your skirt.

Now that you were practically face to face with the curse, you realized it was a giant fucking octopus. It had one eye, but it was completely black and didn’t reflect light at all. Its skin was an inky black, and it’s numerous tentacles stretched it’s rot-like scent further towards you.

From behind you, you could hear Yuuta scaling its side, his katana making repeated contact with its flesh.

You thrashed around, throwing more knives while trying to aim for its eye. The curse only seemed mildly aggravated, another tentacle wrapping around your torso and trailing up your throat.

Your head was pulsing, and your arms were pinned to your side. You could only use your technique with your hands, so your only option was to cut off its limb and fall into the electrically charged water, or let it choke you to death.

So, basically, die either way.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuuta jump, landing his katana in its iris and using his weight to drag it down.

The curse screamed, and that was the last thing you heard before your body slammed into the water.

You were right, the water was fucking cold. Not only, but you felt like you had fallen onto concrete, and the tentacle was still clasped around you.

You tried to pry it off, but it only constricted. You held onto hope that somehow Yuuta would get to you, since he had obviously killed the curse before you hit the water. It was dark, completely black and you couldn’t see your own body when you looked down.

Even as you sunk deeper and deeper, you didn’t doubt for a moment you would die. You couldn’t, Yuuta wouldn’t let you.

When your vision begins to fade and your legs feel blurry, the thought is only an echo in your mind.

Yuuta won’t let you die. And he doesn’t.

Not when he finally grasps you, ripping the tentacle around you into shreds with his bare hands. Not when he holds you while he swims towards the surface, ignoring how cold your flesh is. Not when you resurface, and you’re not breathing.

Yuuta’s acting before he’s thinking. He could use his reversed cursed technique, but that wouldn’t do anything about the water in your lungs. Your lips are blue. Yuuta’s beginning to panic.

He starts doing compressions, not stopping when he feels your rib break, or when he remembers how unreliable cpr is outside of a hospital.

He doesn’t stop because eventually, your upper body lurches forward, and water falls from your mouth.

His arms are around you in a second, and you momentarily think the octopus curse is still wrapped around you with how tightly he’s holding you.

Yuuta is warm, and you’re freezing. You cling to him, your body trembling as the early signs of hypothermia begin to start.

He pulls away, holding your face in his hands. There’s a look of concern you’ve seen him wear thousands of times, but it’s more crazed. More wild. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead be begins to heal you.

Immediately, you stop shaking, heat flooding from your face down your spine. Yuuta has used his reversed cursed technique on you more times than you can count, claiming he didn’t want to give Shoko any more work, but you never got use to how intimate it felt.

Your jacket is long removed, and your shirt is sticking to your skin. You can see your bra through the thin material, and you’re a little embarrassed when you catch his eyes lingering.

Yuuta’s in a similar state as you. His white tee shirt was soaked, and his hair was sticking to his face. You felt his forehead with your palm, frowning in concern at his temperature.

His eyes changed. God, only you would be worried about him when moments ago your heart had stopped.

Only now did he notice his position, how close your lips were to his. He couldn’t take it. That thing almost got you before he could even make you his.

“Yuu, what is it?” It was a simple question, with a complicated answer, but the nickname pushed him over the edge.

He ducks his head closer to you, breaking the distance. He felt your lips moments ago, but they were frigid and lifeless. Now, you kissed him back with such fever it would’ve knocked him off balance if he wasn’t already sitting.

He’s climbing on top of you before he can register it, and your back hits the sand. You moan into his mouth in encouragement, shifting your hips up to meet his.

“Fuck, I can’t wait.” He whimpers into your neck. “Please let me fuck you, please.”

You nod before he finishes his sentence, muttering a broken ‘god yes’ that’s interrupted by your own moan as he attaches his lips to your neck.

He keeps licking at your collarbones and you’re withering under him. You’re unsure if it has something to do with his reversal technique, but everything feels too good.

You drag his hand to your clit, forcing him to palm you through your shorts. He slides them off, cursing as they stick to your legs before diving back down, shoving your panties to the side to feel you.

His fingers are long, and they’re surprisingly soft, even with his callouses. He rubs at your clit, dragging down to collect your slick before repeating his slow circles.

Subconsciously, you grind yourself onto his hand, eager for more friction.

“I’m sorry, I tried to be patient.” He mumbles against your shoulder before thrusting his middle finger into you.

A rough groan leaves your throat, and you attach your lips to Yuuta’s neck in effort to muffle your sounds. You bit down on his skin a little too harshly, drawing a small bit of blood. Instead of wincing in pain, he whimpered into you in wild excitement, pushing his jugular closer to your incisors.

He’s finger fucking you harshly, your pussy sucking him in loudly, drowning out the crashing of the waves a few feet from you.

“Gonna cum- shit.” You try to warn, but your orgasm reaches you closer than you anticipated. Yuuta fucks you through it, your legs trembling and chest heaving.

You’re still recovering when you hear him slide his pants off, pressing kisses to your face when he lines himself up against you. He pushes your legs over his shoulders, slipping into you so easily it makes you gasp for air.

He thrusts into you slowly, each time inching into you more and more. Water falls from his hair and drips onto your face in between each stroke, and you’re singing his name.

“Love you.” He kisses your forehead. “I love you so much. I can’t loose you. I won’t. You’re everything to me.”

His words are soft, but sudden, laced with a near obsessive tone that makes you squeeze down on his dick even harder.

“I love you so much, Yuu.” He plants one last kiss to your lips before pounding so harshly into you it forces you deeper into the sand.

He keeps his pace, fucking you at an animalistic speed. His eyes are crazed, wide and focused while trying to study how your body responds to him. His lips quiver, stuttering out strings of curses that tells you he’s completely gone already, and he’s not stopping any time soon.

He cums in you, but he doesn’t let that stop him, continuing to rut into you even as he overstimulates himself. “Gonna fill you up. Fuck-I can’t stop.”

“Need it!” You cry, heavy tears falling from your cheeks. Yuuta notices immediately, licking them without a second thought.

He keeps fucking his cum into you, not stopping at the second load, or the third. Only until he behind to shoot blanks does he slow, holding your body gently as he pulls out.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” His head is fuzzy.

“No, no.” You brush his hair out of his eyes. “Was so good, Yuuta.”

He collapses on top of you, and you draw circles on his back. You smile, watching the stars in the sky for a moment before speaking.

“How are we going to get back to campus?”

“Uh,” Yuuta thinks aloud, propping his head up. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll call Gojo.” He nuzzles his head back into your chest.

“Okay.” You giggle, kissing his head. Yuuta Okokotsu was insane, but so were you.

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part six | chapter list

summary you’re a not so single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue movie night, a good sandwich, a better cry, and the best birthday party ever. [23k]

warnings afab!reader, fem!reader, mom!reader, mention of implied period/menstruation, money worries, unhealthy eating habits (not finding the time), food insecurity, physical/emotional fatigue. fluff heavy, love confessions, emotional hurt/comfort, idiots in love, slight angst.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie's carrying so much stuff he can barely see over the top of it, let alone open your front door. He stands fumbling at the top of the porch steps, hoping you'll hear the sounds of his arrival and come to help. 

You must be in your room or the bathroom, as no one comes to save him. Eddie can hear the echo of the TV from the living room, kid's cable or one of Junie's VHS tapes, as well as the pulling sound of the pipes under the trailer. A faucet must be running. 

When he finally manages to open the door, he's expecting to see you in the kitchenette with your back to him, humming as you clean the dishes and in your own little world. 

You're not there, to his surprise. 

Eddie puts all of his things on the kitchen table, takes off his shoes, and goes looking for you. There aren't many rooms to search, only your bedroom and the bathroom. He can hear running water the closer he gets to the bathroom, so he knocks on the door. 

"Sweetheart, you in there?" 

The tap turns off abruptly. The door opens, and Eddie frowns at the lack of you, finding only empty air. He looks down to find Junie standing there in the gap, short and small and completely soaked.

He can tell immediately what she's been up to, some mischievous playing while you're distracted elsewhere. She has a look on her face like she's both thrilled to see him and sorry to be caught. 

Eddie bends down. “Hi, sweetheart. What are you doing?" he asks.

"Cold!" She giggles, wielding her wet palms at him threateningly. 

He takes her little hands in his. "Freezing!" he agrees. 

Eddie pulls a towel off of the hand towel rail and quickly rubs it up and down her wet arms. She's still in her clothes from daycare, which isn't necessarily unlike you. If she's having a shower tonight, you'll be waiting until after to change her into her clean pyjamas. 

He checks his watch with a frown. It's well past bath time. 

"Where's mom?" he asks. 

"She's sleeping," Junie whispers, bringing a finger to her lips. "Shh." 

Ah. That makes sense. He hangs the towel back on the rail and takes one of Junie's still-cold hands in his, walking her to your bedroom, where the door is closed. You wouldn't have closed it, not while June was in another room. 

Eddie squeezes her hand fondly. She's becoming quite the deviant. He wonders if it's his fault. 

He opens the door and sighs when he sees you, feeling sorry for his girl, all curled in on yourself sitting on the bedroom floor with a pile of unfolded laundry in your lap. He can imagine the ache brewing in your back, worse than the usual and persistent twinge you've mentioned between your shoulder blades.

Eddie kneels down beside you. Junie follows suit without instruction. Even her socks are wet, her soggy heel cold against his thigh. 

"Y/N," he says softly, easing his hand under your chin. 

He hooks his fingers behind your ear and lifts your heavy head, leaning forward to straighten you up. You rouse with a frown. 

"What time is it?" you ask after a moment. Your voice barely comes out. 

"Nearly seven. Are you feeling okay?" he asks, pushing your shoulders against the bed behind you for support, his hand falling to the juncture of your neck. Your skin is clammy. Your brow twists. "You coming down with something again?" 

 "Just tired," you mumble.

You close your eyes and cover them with one hand. 

There's something to be said about it, how that, a few months ago, you would've sprung up to finish what you were doing, explaining to him in rushed tones that you don't usually fall asleep like that, you would never leave Junie unattended: he knows already. You're a parent, not a superhero (though sometimes he thinks you're both) —you aren't infallible. You get tired, and you try your best. Eddie wouldn't ever think that you don't. He certainly wouldn't think you're a bad parent for falling asleep sitting up in the middle of a chore, and you know that now. You know you can sit there and gather your bearings without explanation. That he'll look after you and Junie whenever you need him to. 

A little shimmer of pride brims at the realisation. 

He rubs your throat with his thumb before sitting back. Junie climbs into his lap and leans her soaking front into his chest, cold enough that Eddie quickly covers her with his arms in an attempt to warm her. 

"What have you been up to?" he asks her. 

She hums, pleased, and babbles about the water. "It dwas… it was cold and fast," she emphasises. 

"You're not supposed to be in the bathroom without mommy." 

"She's sleeping," Junie says quizzically. Like the rules don't apply when you're not awake to uphold them. 

"I'm not sleeping," you say.

"You're still not supposed to be in there without me or mom," Eddie says, giving her a playful glare. "Now you're all wet." 

Junie buries her face in his neck, hiding from his mild scolding and possibly trying to soak up some of his warmth. You rub your eyes. 

You're in your work uniform with dishevelled hair, but you look cute anyhow. 

Eddie pats Junie's back, unperturbed by her damp clothes. She's warming up the longer she sits there. 

He supposes her willingness to simply sit and be cuddled is a conditioning of your unending affection. You're always praising and kissing and stroking her hair out of her face, always carrying her around when she could easily walk. You're ridiculously touchy, like a sponge for love. You want it just as often as you give it. He and Junie are both happy to humour you.

Eddie takes the initiative. He gives June a toss to the middle of your made bed and smiles when she giggles, grabbing a change of clothes for her from the wardrobe, and then a change of clothes for you. He's almost completely familiar with your wardrobe these days, having made multiple adoring contributions to it. Selfishly, maybe, he grabs a shirt he knows he got you, as well as a newer pair of pyjama pants. 

You still haven't managed to stand when he finishes, but you've turned to see Junie, making kissy faces at her as you tickle the sole of her foot. 

"My girl's all wet," you're saying, not a lick of tiredness in your voice. You hide it from her easily. "What trouble have you been up to while mommy slacked off, huh? You're soooo bad, I'm gonna have to lock you up." 

Junie giggles thickly as she crawls toward you. You can't reach her foot when she turns but you aren't bothered, tickling her arms and sides instead. You and Junie stay like that for a second, eye to eye, Junie on her front and you hiding your mouth in the sheets like a cowboy shootout, waiting for someone to give in. 

Junie shrieks with laughter and you sit up in time to stop her from headbutting you, gathering her up into your arms to kiss her forehead. 

"Sorry," you say, to Eddie's displeasure. "Mommy's silly, huh, falling asleep when you're still awake?" 

"She's human," he corrects lightly. 

"Baby," you say, like you're going to say more. You don't, you just smile at him. 

"Do you want me to have her? You can shower by yourself, have some 'me-time'?" 

"No… she needs a bath. Don't you?" you ask her.

"Do you want me to–" 

"Eddie," you say, struggling to stand with Junie in your arms, "I don't want anything. Except…" 

He bounds the two steps it takes to get his arms around you both and plants a huge kiss on your cheek. You visibly relax, better when he presses a much softer one against the corner of your mouth. 

"Except a kiss?" he asks into your skin. 

You sound flustered, "Except a kiss. Another one. Please." 

He pulls back enough for you to turn into his kiss and align your lips properly for a chaste peck. 

"Hello," he says. 

"Hi, baby," you say, shy even now. 

"Hi." He steals another kiss. Junie makes a noise of offence and he dots one on her appled cheek. Her lips perk into a smile. "Girls. Let's get our movie night back on track. I brought presents." 

You groan and Junie cheers. Finally getting to grips with certain words even if she hasn't said them aloud yet, Junie is well aware as to what presents are. She gets enough of them (to your chagrin). 

"What did I say? Presents are for special occasions," you say mildly. 

"Movie night is–" 

"Not a special occasion."

"Kind of is. Especially if we make it a tradition. If you really don't want them then I'll take them back," he says. He really means it, no guilt trip involved. 

You look down at Junie, back up at him, and puff out a theatrical breath. 

"Sorry, I've made it hard to say no," he says. 

"Don't be sorry. Thank you for the presents, really. We'll look after a shower, okay?" you ask, darting up to give him a quick kiss and then nudging him aside. 

"I'll make dinner real quick while you shower and you can open your presents after that." He catches your sleeve. "Deal?" 

"Deal." 

Another round of kisses are exchanged. Kisses like a first love, excited and quick and wanting a little bit more each time. 

You leave for the bathroom to set up Junie's fold out baby bath in the shower and fill it with water. He smiles on his way back down the slim hall to the kitchen at the sound of her laughter, hidden beneath the hurried rain of the shower head. 

Eddie makes two cans of vegetable soup with pasta shapes in a saucepan on the stove, cooking it through and letting it simmer while he waits for you.

The bathroom door opens. He gives it a minute before pouring the soup into bowls, knowing it'll take you a while to powder and lotion you and your baby, especially when getting her into jammies lately has been like clothing an eel. 

A few minutes later, Junie comes sprinting down the hall quick as a lightning bolt, barefoot to stop from crashing face first into a cabinet. You have no clue why, but lately she's extremely energetic. You've done some more baby-proofing around the house to avoid injury, moving tables completely out of her way and sticky taping your rug in the living room flat to the floor so she can't slip over it at speed, but nothing works as well as bare feet for good grip. Not even dragon themed grippy socks, Eddie laments. They looked so cool. 

He pours soup into three bowls and adds a splash of cold water from the faucet to Junie's, giving it a good stir and dipping the tip of a clean pinky finger in it to check it's not hot. 

"Hi, trouble," he greets, following her into the living room with her bowl. "You want some dinner?" 

He doesn't give her much chance to answer, grabbing her up in his free arm with a heaving groan and carrying her like a curled weight to the sofa. She's giggly to a fault, happy to be shuttled from one place to another if there's a kiss or some food promised at the end. 

He sets her down, puts the bowl on his thigh, and pulls out the bib he'd tucked into his pocket to secure it nice and loose around her neck. He's careful not to get any of her hair in the velcro. 

"Tada!" he says. "Let's get eating." 

Junie's amazing. Eddie lifts a spoon and her lips part expectantly. He could let her eat by herself, she's old enough and she's getting much better with a spoon, but he wants to avoid the mess and get her fed quickly. She's eaten every last morsel by the time you emerge. He's more pleased than he started, because you trust him to do this while you get dressed without rushing, and you'll allow yourself the luxury of ten minutes alone. 

Your footsteps sound across the kitchen. You turn into the living room, your face tacky with something, and even from the middle of the room Eddie can smell your deodorant and moisturisers, maybe even the lingering scent of conditioner on your hands. 

"My poor baby was so hungry," you say upon seeing Junie's empty bowl. You kiss the top of her head. "Sorry, Junie. Good thing Eddie's here to take such good care of you, hmm?" You kiss her cheek. You lean over her head and kiss Eddie's. He's about to start running a temperature, you're so affectionate tonight. "Thank you." 

"Don't," he says gently. 

You straighten up. Like you've been caught in a trap, you stop suddenly and peer down at him, hiding your smile with a pout. He's already seen it, but he lets you get away with it. 

"Your bangs are growing long again," you say, brushing them away from his forehead. 

You comb down the lengths of his curls with your fingers, partitioning the tangles with care. 

"Maybe you can trim 'em for me tomorrow," he says. 

Your eyes light up. "Yeah, for sure." 

"Good. Our soup is getting cold." 

"Oh, gotcha. I'll warm it up. You want more, junebug? More soup?" 

Junie doesn't answer, distracted by the TV. She's stopped bothering to support herself, her weight splayed over Eddie's thigh, her soup-stained cheek dangerously close to his pants. He has to admit that since knowing you a lot of his clothes have been stained irredeemably. He doesn't worry about the sweatpants, though. It's only soup. 

Eddie thumbs hair out of her face and smiles. 

"She could probably eat more." 

You know it already, but he says it because it feels nice to say. Plus, you like it. You'd told him so, a whispered admission sometime last week. 

I like that someone else worries about her, you'd said, your lips soft on his naked bicep, your face hidden by the lack of light and a few of his rogue curls. I like that you take some of the load. I'm sorry if that's not fair. 

Baby, he'd said, voice gritty with how much he meant it, it's not unfair. I'm happy to do it. And I know you're not expecting it from me.

No, you'd said quickly. 

I know. He'd kissed the top of your head, laughed against your skin, his breath fanning every which way. Don't think about it like that, like it's costing me something. 

I'm not saying it costs anything. I know it does, even if you don't feel it. And I'm not saying she isn't easy to love 'cos she is, but loving someone and taking care of them are different, and I know you want to do it–

Eddie had cut you off, sitting up enough that you'd been forced to take your weight off of his shoulder where you'd been laying down across the well-loved couch. He'd felt a familiar spring under his thigh as he shifted, the TV painting your face in a milky white that had your eyes shining like gemstone. 

I do want to do it, he'd affirmed. You guys– you're my girls. Eddie could've told you he loved you right then and there. He's sure you already knew. Why are you worrying about this stuff?

Have to worry about something. These days my options are slim pickings, thanks to you. 

He'd pulled you in for a hug, trying to squeeze the misplaced gratitude out of you uselessly. He's happy you're happy, happy you feel like he's draining your impossible levy, but he doesn't want you thinking you owe him anything. That's not why he's with you. 

You trek back into the kitchen with Junie's empty bowl and spoon, your pyjama pants slightly too long for you and dragging across the floor. You hadn't been with him when he bought them —he eyeballed. They fit around your waist and thighs just fine, but both of the pairs he got that day are too long. 

Eddie wipes Junie's face with the end of her bib and reluctantly hands her over when you return, reheated soup in hand. You swap him for his own bowl and feed Junie whatever she wants from yours, blowing on each spoonful as you go. 

"How was work today, sugarpea?" he asks between bites of pasta. 

"No," you say immediately. 

"Not a sugarpea fan?"

"Not when you say it like that," you tease.

"What about sweetcheeks?" He grins at your grim expression. "It's not that different to sweetheart, 'n' you like that one." 

You glance at him over Junie's head. "I think I'm used to sweetheart. You say it enough. Sweetcheeks is like a foreign object my brain is rejecting on the grounds that it is super duper weird." You smile as you talk and your voice takes shape through it, all smooth and silky and warm. 

"Honeybuns?" he tries, nearly choking on a pasta shape when you laugh. He can't help himself; whenever you laugh he instinctively wants to join in. 

"Work was fine," you say, stealing a big spoonful of soup. Junie huffs. "It was good, really, I got an amazing tip from Bernard, you know Bernard?"

"Bernard," he repeats menacingly. 

"Your competition. He gave me twenty dollars 'n' told me to put it in the Junie jar, so that was awesome. Now my little lady's gonna get some new shoes."

You don't like handouts you haven't worked for. It's why his gifts can be hard to accept, as much as you appreciate them. Eddie insisted months ago that being friends was 'doing things for other people', and letting people do things for you —as in, letting him buy you small presents is actually a service to him and a credit to you. 

You don't necessarily like it. You like presents, most people do, but you don't like his spending money on you because of some ill-conceived notion that you can't deserve them. It's why Eddie doesn't go out and spend his wages on the things that you want willy-nilly. It would embarrass you, put you out, and that's the last thing he wants. So while he's in a place where he's fortunate enough to have disposable income, and he doesn't think twice about spending it on the people he loves, he does think about how it makes you feel. 

But boyfriend privileges are very real. The step up he took from a friend who's suspiciously affectionate to an actual proper boyfriend is large and luxurious —he gets away with doing a lot more than he could beforehand. Eddie can put gas in your car, pay for breakfast, bring by a gallon of laundry detergent when you're running low without a word of protest. It's little things, and they mean a lot to him. 

He thinks they might mean a lot to you, too. 

So he would buy Junie new shoes if she needed them, but she doesn't. If she did, you would've got them already. You want her to have new shoes, and you're saving up for a nice fancy pair that she'll grow out of within the year. You should take pride in that. There's nothing so sweet as treating your daughter. 

"How come I can't contribute to the Junie jar?" he asks in a playful whine.

"Don't start with me, Munson. You tipped me ten dollars for a coffee yesterday, don't think I didn't notice. And the coffee was for me," you say, smiling still. 

He grins down at his soup and kicks his socked foot against yours. 

"That wasn't me," he lies. With no effort involved, the end result is lackluster. 

"Yeah, well, it wasn't Davey," you say. 

Davey's a grumpy regular. He never tips. 

"It could've been. Maybe he had a change of heart. And, biassed as I may be, you are a very pretty waitress. I'd tip you if I was allowed," he flirts. 

You turn the spoon in your hand so the well is toward your chest and pretend to load it at him like a trebuchet. 

He wimps out, "June, mom's attacking me! Mommy's trying to get soup on me!"  

"Am not!" you protest. 

The damage is already done. Junie, her face a mirror of your own but smaller and with eyes a little bigger in their framing, glares at you and tries to take your spoon, babbling an outraged, "No no no!" 

You make a funny squeaking sound and drop the spoon back in the bowl, your lips parted in mock shock. 

"You don't really believe him, do you?" you ask, your bubbly talk saccharine. "Baby, I'm just playing." 

She's your number one fan. The sound of your voice would win back her affections by itself, but your lovely smile, your hand behind her back, it's instantaneous. Junie forgets all about the imminent danger he's in and puts her hand on your chin. You close your eyes. 

"Mommy, can we have kisses?" she asks. 

"How many?" you ask, delighted. It's rhetorical. Eddie finishes his soup and you kiss her cheeks so many times he reckons you'll have dry lips, humming, "Mwah, mwah, mwah," as you go. 

He'll make you something else tonight to make up for how little soup you've had. It's not a substantial meal either way, and he knows Benny feeds you well at work, but it's been a long time since lunch rush. 

Junie wiggles out of your grip and drops to the floor, clearly having had enough kisses. 

Eddie doesn't see what she's doing from the kitchenette where he's carried all the dirty dishes, but he listens intently to her babble talk, new words popping up in her chatter every day. She says, "Mr. Bear," and "pretty," and "let's go!" between gibberish. 

"Oh, hey!" Eddie calls to be heard over the running water of the sink and the TV. 

He can see your head through a gap between the counter and the cabinets attached to the ceiling. You turn at his voice, arms across the back of the sofa, chin resting on your hands. "Yeah?" 

"She said, 'fast'!" he tells you. "When I grabbed her from the bathroom, she said the water was cold and fast. That's a new one." 

"The bathroom. I need a lock. Do you have anything?"

"Do I have a lock? Maybe."  

You nod hurriedly, eyebrows pinched in stress . "It's an accident waiting to happen. I had no idea she could reach that handle, I don't want her in there when I can't see her." 

"Don't worry, we'll nab one of those child locks from the store tomorrow if it bothers you." 

You're quiet for a moment. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep." 

"You couldn't help it," He puts a dish down on the rack. "It's not a crime to nod off, I do it all the time. It was an accident." 

"It doesn't matter. She can't be alone with water, it's dangerous." 

"You said it yourself, you had no idea she could even get in there. Now you know, you'll make sure it doesn't happen again." He turns off the faucet, trying to snub your self-annoyance before it twists into something cruel. "Yeah?" 

You hum. 

He wipes his hands dry on a rag and slides around the kitchen counters, back into your living room. Your eyes flash wide as he approaches. You know what he's gonna do, tucking your arms away as he drops into your lap. "Woah," you groan. 

"You're a good mom," he says seriously, shuffling back so his weight is on a couch cushion rather than your tired thighs. "I mean it, you're a good mom. You fell asleep. It happens, okay? Don't punish yourself for something that didn't happen. We can jam the door closed with a sock or something tonight, and I promise you she won't get in there again." 

You bunch one of his legs in your lap to rest your mouth against his knee. He holds himself up with one arm, watching you relax with relief. 

"She said 'fast'?" you ask, turning your face so your cheek is on his knee instead. Her building vocabulary excites you endlessly. You've been practicing descriptors. 

"She said that the water was cold and fast," he says. She would know, she made your floor into a slip and slide. 

"She's a genius." You rub your cheek against his pants. "I knew it." 

He flops back into the couch cushions, arms behind his head. "Yeh. You can't help yourself, can you? Making that girl cooler every day." 

You pinch his thigh. "Lay off." 

He's serious and joking at the same time. It's a very cheesy thing to say and it isn't untrue. It's the juxtaposition of every parent, he supposes, the insurmountable task they perform on such a grand scale. It looks impossible, and yet people have been managing it for thousands of years anyways. At varying levels of success, sure. 

He hasn't lied to you once. You're a good mom and you're raising a sweetheart, and while neither one of you could care less about Junie being an actual 'genius', singing her praises is a pass time you love. 

He isn't tired enough to fall asleep sitting up, yet slouched down as he is with your hands on his legs stroking slow lines feels like a blanket has been thrown over him, fresh from the dryer. Speaking of… 

"Can I give you the gifts now? I promise they're not too much," he says. 

"Can I tell you something first?" He nods. You hug his knee to your chest and look him straight in the face, unabashed. "You have a really nice voice, Eddie. Listening to you talk, I don't know. You could read me the yellow pages and I think I'd like it." 

"Wait, are you flirting with me?" he asks, making a show of sitting up slowly. 

"It's nice and deep. Not too much, but it is. And you say things in such a particular way sometimes, it makes me want to smile even when I've had a garbage day." You stroke down his thigh with a fingertip. "Everything about you is nice, but I wanted to tell you." 

"Thank you," he says warmly. "I'm glad you think so. 'Cos when I'm around you, all I want to do is talk. And I mean that in the best way." Eddie sits up, bending at the waist so he can kiss your cheek. He doesn't move away immediately, pressing the bridge of his nose flat to your skin as he continues, "I want to hug you really badly right now, like, a make-your-spine-click kind of hug. Think I can do that?" 

"Yes, please, it's not even hurting. You can hug me as much as you want." 

Eddie shuffles forward on the couch to be near you, his cheek smushed against your ear as he wraps his arms around you in a hug. He goes over your shoulders. Even if it isn't hurting today he doesn't want to inspire any backache, and you return his hugging eagerly. 

You smell like your favourite lotion. He breathes it in. 

"You're sniffing me," you murmur. 

"You smell nice," he murmurs back. 

"You smell nice, too." 

"I smell like sweat." 

"A little." 

He encourages your face into the crook of his neck, beaming. "You're so weird," he dotes. 

"Sorry," you say, rather shyly. 

You're not shy because he said you're weird —he says that stuff all the time and when he means it, it's adoring— you're sorry because you're genuinely embarrassed that you like how he smells, sweat included. He wants to kiss you forever. 

"Don't you dare be sorry. It's my irresistible musk." 

"Ew," you say, "ew, ew, ew. Musk is a gross word." 

"Yeah?" he asks, giving your cheek a quick stroke with the side of his knuckle. 

"Yes. Definitely banned around my daughter." 

He snorts. "Like it's a curse word." 

You run your hands in sync up and down his side, his t-shirt hiking up with each swipe. Your eyes have softened and renewed you, your earlier fatigue a memory without evidence. The fine wrinkles at the corners of your eyes smooth away. 

"I'm so happy," you whisper. 

He takes your elbows into his hands, thumbs rubbing at the crooks fondly. "Me too." 

Your hands fall to his waist. Eddie's never been more content; he's so grateful to feel as he does, whole at your side, affectionate and aflame and in love with your every attribute. Your timid admission, your knowing smile. 

"Can I give you your present now?" he asks. 

You lean back into the couch, mumbling, "Oh, if you must," with a pleased smile. 

"I must, my lady. It's imperative that you and your charge receive the most splendiferous of gifts in haste."   

"Then so be it, my liege." 

He's morphing you into a nerd one corny joke at a time. 

Eddie stands up. His movement grabs Junie's attention from her toys and make-believe, the small girl climbing to her feet. She hops toward him, hands out in expectancy to be picked up. 

"Two seconds, June, let me get your present first." 

His bags are exactly where he left them on the kitchen table. He rummages through them to make sure he's presenting the right gift to the right girl, before yanking the present from the bag it came in and putting it out of Junie's reach.

"Here," he says, sliding his hand under the gift's cardboard fastening and ripping it open. 

The blanket he's bought for her, big, gorgeously soft and made up of pastel pinks and oranges, puffs out and reaches the floor. Junie strokes it. 

"It's so soft!" he encourages. "Isn't it soft, sweetheart? This is going to keep you nice and cozy tonight for our movie. Do you want me to wrap you up?" 

He drapes it around her shoulders. Little kids are temperamental even if they aren't bad-spirited, and chances are that she doesn't even want it on her, but she smiles as he wraps it around her and lets out a happy line of sounds. 

"Do you like that?" he asks, beaming. 

She drops her cheek to her shoulder and rubs it, her eyes slipping closed in happiness. 

"Eddie," she says sweetly, "it's soft." She says 'soft' clumsily, with lots of weight on the 'oft'. 

Her adorableness often sucker punches him. He kind of assumed he'd felt everything there was to feel, but there's a particular kind of awe that comes with watching her grow, and experiencing nice things. She's endearingly enticed by the material, putting her hand under the blanket so she can pull it to her face and feel it against her nose. He can't see more than the corner of her mouth, but he can tell from the way her cheek apples that she's smiling at hum. 

"I'm glad you like it, junebug." 

"Will you tell him thank you?" you ask, hand on the wall, looking down at her with a similar fondness as he is. "Say, 'thank you, Eddie'." 

Junie has a different plan. She pulls as much of the blanket as she can to her chest and waddles toward him, where she leans her face into his legs. Eddie covers the short breadth of her shoulders with one hand. 

"Thank you," Junie says. 

"Of course, sweetheart. You're very welcome. I'm so happy, you look really comfy. Now we can watch movies in style." 

He turns to his second bag and yanks out another blanket, this one a solid dark grey. He doesn't know if he should, but he does the same as he'd done for Junie, tearing the cardboard fastening off of the blanket and shaking it out, before beckoning you forward and wrapping it around your shoulders. You smile, and you look like you could cry, not that you will but you could, your lips pressed together and your eyebrows gently furrowed. 

He takes your face into both hands. 

"That's an acceptable present?" he asks. 

You turn your head, your lips pressed to the base of his thumb. He strokes the top of your cheek, the skin there smooth and dewy, fresh from the shower. 

"Do you want a kiss?" he asks knowingly. 

You fluster at being read that easily, "No, I… yeah, I do, I do, don't be smug, please…" 

"I'm not smug, I wanna kiss you just as bad as you want me to, I'd crawl into your skin if I could–" 

Your laugh is a shock, your chest shaking where it touches his, and he can't take it anymore. He kisses your smile, his lips clumsy and too eager, a total mismatch as you giggle into his touch. 

He gives your cheek a good rub with his thumb. 

"Thank you," you say. 

He shakes his head. "Don't mention it." 

"This is nice. Did you get one for yourself?" 

He did. "I'd love to say I got one for myself 'cos I thought you'd accept it easier, but I wanted one. They're so soft." 

"So soft," Junie says, slipping on the ends of her blanket as she wobbles toward your embrace. "Up?" 

—

While the blankets that Eddie's brought for you are, in fact, so soft, they're much too warm when the three of you are laying on top of one another. Eddie's like a superheater to your left, Junie's a hot water bottle on your chest, and your hair is damp with sweat. 

You wipe your face with your sleeve and sit up on the couch, hand behind Junie's dozing back. 

"You okay?" Eddie asks, pulling his attention from the movie. 

"Too hot." 

"Pass me the baby." He says 'baby' dramatically, like she's one of the rings from his books, or the prodigal child. 

You hand her over. She mumbles something but settles, her nose jabbed into Eddie's clavicle. He pats her back. 

You shrug off the blanket and pull the collar of your shirt away from your neck, fanning yourself lightly. When you're feeling less like you're cooking you stand up, squinting in the dark. Now you've moved the table to the side of the room you don't have to worry about catching your calf on a corner, but it's still a death trap in here when you haven't put away the toys. 

"Do you want another drink?" you ask. 

"Please. Coke if there's any left," Eddie says. 

You walk to the kitchen on tired legs to make two drinks. You hadn't wanted to think about it but you're really hungry, your stomach hurting with it. You open the fridge for the bottle of coke and cast your eyes over the contents. There's more fresh food than you're used to having, but tired as you are, you can't think of anything to make. Something quiet and easy for the late hour would be nice. 

You hear as Eddie follows you in. You look over your shoulder to see if he's brought Junie with him. He's alone. 

"You didn't eat much," he says. 

"I know, that's what I'm looking for." 

"I," he says, melodic, his elbow up as he scratches behind his neck, "will make you whatever you want." 

"Really?" you ask. 

"Sure. Or I could go get you something?" 

"I don't want you driving alone at night," you say. 

"It's not dangerous." 

"No, I know, but I don't want you to leave." 

"Good. Me neither." He joins you in front of the fridge. "I could make you a huge sandwich," he says. "I got some of the fancy cheese at my place." 

"I'm not eating Wayne's cheese." 

"I paid for it," he insists. "No, look, you have cheddar, pepperjack, we don't need fancy cheese. Let me make you a sandwich." 

You slip your hand behind his back and squeeze. 

Eddie kind of grabs you, all jokes, and pushes you down into a chair like he thinks you're trying to run away. "Stay there, fiend," he demands. 

He makes you a sandwich. It's a simple pleasure to watch. He washes his hands, grabs all the fillings, and makes it carefully. It's too much care to be put into a sandwich. It makes your chest ache. 

He browns it in the frying pan and presents it to you with little fanfare. Odd, for him.

"What, no, ta-da? No kiss?" you ask. 

"I was trying to keep it classy," he says, bending down to kiss the skin shy of the corner of your eye. "Now eat, please. I worry about you." 

He doesn't need to ask. He likely couldn't stop you. You're glad he's already your boyfriend, otherwise the speed with which you take your first bite might have put him off. 

"Do you want half?" you ask. 

"No, you eat that whole thing." 

He puts your glass right next to you on the table. There's something unsaid in his gaze, not judgement but close. 

"I've been busy," you defend. 

"How much did you even eat today? You had breakfast, right?" 

You nod, taking a sip of your drink, and size him up. "Munson." 

"Did you, sweetheart? Honestly?" 

"I did! Eddie, please don't worry," you say, pushing him toward the open chair rather than let him crowd you. "You know I'm eating properly, you feed me ten times a week." 

Eddie sits, propping his foot up on the chair by your thigh, and stretches his arms across the table toward you. He flicks your elbow. 

"I don't like thinking about you going hungry," he says. 

"Then it's a good thing I'm not." You take a showy bite of sandwich. 

"Promise?" he asks.

"Yes!" You pat his shin. "Promise promise. It was a busy day, but I had oatmeal and Benny made me a fancy salad, and now this. I'm all fed, thanks to other people. I'm lucky like that." 

"You're not lucky. People want to take care of you because you take such good care of them," he says. You like how he says it, like it's no big deal. 

"I just wish you'd take good care of yourself," he finishes, digging his heel into your thigh. 

You squirm away from his attack, ditching the last couple of bites of your sandwich in favour of the paper towel he'd brought with your plate to wipe your fingers and mouth. 

Clean, you get up from your chair before you can stop yourself and sit on one of his thighs, careful not to rest your full weight there. 

"You're being dramatic," you say as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, nose close to his and getting closer. "I love that you worry about me, but you don't need to. Think of all the energy you're wasting on me that could be spent on your music, or your games." 

Eddie pulls you into his lap properly.

"It's one game," he says, hooking you against him so you can't slide off of his legs. "Fine. I won't worry about you so much if you finish your sandwich. Cool?" 

"Don't let me fall," you mumble, stretching back in his arms to grab your plate. 

You slide it across the table, pick up the last quarter of your sandwich, and eat it there in his arms. He looks ridiculously happy to watch. 

The night passes like that. No matter where you go it's in his arms. He calls you his barnacle and you like him so much you let it slide. You only part to carry Junie to bed, sliding her into her toddler bed with all the precision of a professional. 

Eddie gets his hands on you soon after, pressing your back to his front as you brush your teeth half-asleep in the mirror opposite, his minty kisses pressed generously to the side of your head. 

You don't remember getting into bed. When you wake up, it's to the sounds and smells of French toast, or Eddie's approximate version, a spatula scraping against the sides of your frying pan and Eddie singing a children's song. You scrunch your eyes together and groan as you turn into the sheets, hiding your head under the pillow from the noise. You love them, you're tired —maybe in half an hour you'll want to join in. 

You're not sure how much time passes when you wake a second time. Rings slide across the curtain pole, quiet footsteps smushed into the carpet. You turn onto your side and pry your eyes open, lashes barely parted. A bleary slice of Eddie's back takes centre stage. 

He shakes out Junie's blankets and tucks them in. He plumps up her pillow. Gentle, he rights her fallen teddies and sits them up one by one like proper gentlemen. His expression is handsome but blank.

Squared, Eddie moves away from Junie's bed to your forgotten pile of laundry. You'd fallen asleep folding it, and the unfolded stuff will no doubt be full of creases. He gathers everything into your laundry basket and heads for the door, not having looked your way once. You smile to yourself and close your eyes again, totally at ease. 

The door creaks. You haven't managed to open your eyes when a hand is on your shoulder and pressing you into the mattress gently. Eddie kisses your forehead, before dipping down to rest his own against it, sealing in the kiss. He laughs under his breath. 

"This is nice," you say, lips like glue, voice an incoherent mumbling.

"I thought you were awake," he says. 

"I'm not." 

He rubs your shoulder, a long and loving sweep. "Stay in bed as long as you want to. Me and June are gonna go outside and try soccer." 

You groan and throw your arms around him tiredly, "No," you say, "you better help me up so I can change her diaper." 

Eddie helps you sit up. You blink blink blink, and rub your eyes, and when you can see again you stand up. He follows you into the hall. You don't question it when he starts to clean you up from behind, stroking your hair and pulling your pyjama pants back up the hip they'd been falling down. 

"I feel like I've been run over," you tell him. 

You feel heaps better when you see the main section of the trailer. 

The kitchen is clean. Sparkling. The living room is the same when you peer around to find Junie. She's standing on the couch, Eddie clearly having brushed her hair, the mess of the night before nowhere to be seen. He's taken care of everything while you slept. 

You about to turn around and collapse on him in a hug, but Junie sees you and starts talking, taking big bounding steps across the couch cushions until she's at the end of the one closest to you. You step forward to greet her. 

"Hellooo, lovely girl," you say, dragging her up the length of your chest to meet her eyes. "Eddie says you're gonna play soccer outside. Do you think that sounds fun?" 

"I want mommy," she murmurs.

"I'm right here," you say. She pouts. "What, you want me to come and play soccer?" you ask. "I'll play soccer, baby, just let me get you changed first." 

She isn't happy, but she perks up when she's clean again, double when you squeeze her into a dress and tell her how nice she looks. 

"Eddie did your hair already, so there's nothing left for me to do," you say sweetly, brushing your hands down the length of her skirt. "You're all ready!" 

Junie is less ready for soccer than you thought. Eddie runs down to his home to get a ball and you, having changed and eaten, sit down outside in the growing grass surrounding your trailer on a towel. The sun shines, the sky is a beautiful ocean blue, and Junie does not want to get up from your lap. 

You're content to let her sunbathe, applying sun cream to her face, neck, arms and legs just in case and which she abhors, wriggling and whining as you coo at her. She calms as you rub it in. 

"You'll thank me one day," you say with a small laugh. 

Junie goes quiet. It's not like her, she's a babbler, but you sit in it with her rather than talk for a moment. 

She looks like you.

She's happy, and loved. So much has changed since you moved here. She was always loved unconditionally, and nearly always happy, but she's growing. You both are. 

You thought moving here would be good for her, but you never stopped to think it might be good for you too. Eddie terrifies you, or rather the idea of losing him does. You have these moments where you think about him and plot the possibilities, that one day you'll be waiting for him to come calling and he won't, or one day Junie will ask you where he is and you'll have nothing good to say. It's a catastrophisation if you've ever had one —you trust Eddie, you've let him into almost every aspect of your life. It goes without saying that you trust him not to hurt you. 

But trusting him doesn't mean you can stop yourself from worrying about the future. You told him already, maybe it's being a mom or something, that your brain chooses a new thing to needle at every day, and you roll with it the best that you can. 

Junie smiles at you. 

"Mom… so pretty," she says. You stop short. 

She does this sometimes. You've taught her a lump sum of conversational tidbits from everyday life. Like, "Don't touch, baby," often referring to something hot, or, "Wow! Look at you!" when she's in new clothes. Every time she says one back to you it makes you laugh, but this one hits you like a freight train, right in the heart. 

"You think I'm pretty?" you ask. 

You don't know if Junie even knows what pretty is. You say it to her so often, it might feel like a strand of "I love you," or even, "Good morning." Maybe she doesn't get it. 

She sits up in your lap and reaches up for your face with both hands. You bend to let her. 

"Pretty," she says again. She squeezes your cheek. 

Maybe she doesn't understand. Or maybe she does. Yeah, she does. Your baby thinks you're pretty. You pour love into her unfailingly and she's giving you some of her own. 

"You really think that?" you ask, smiling in her little palms. "Gorgeous girl, I love you. I love you love you." 

"I love you," she says back. 

"You do?" you ask, delighted and selfish because of course she loves you. You wanna hear it again.

"Yes." She drags the 's' sound, her eyes crinkled up. "Mommy," she says. 

"Yeah?" 

Her hands fall back onto her chest, and she sags against your thigh. "Mom?" 

"What, baby? You want something? You want some juice?" She doesn't respond. "You want something yummy to eat?" 

She says a string of words you don't understand. Not a lick of sense start to end. You sigh, duck your lips to her neck, and blow the biggest raspberry that you can. At the same time, you press your fingers into her underarms, tickling down her sides. You laugh at her sudden shrieking and blow another raspberry, and another one, struggling to draw breath as her giggles infect you completely. 

"I got you," you tease. 

"No, mommy!" she squeals, sounding more pleased than her pleas might suggest. 

"I do, I have you!" 

"It tickles a lot!" 

"I have to tickle you, it's part of my job." 

"Mommy," she says, almost breathless. You ease up. You don't want to wear her out. 

"Mwah," you say, giving her a sorry kiss. 

She laughs again. You think she might attempt another sentence —you can practically see the cogs of her brain turning behind her eyes— but she's cut off by a familiar voice. 

"Girls! Y/N!" Eddie hollers. "They're having way too much fun without me." 

You look up at his call, frowning at his odd phrasing, and are immediately startled to see he isn't by himself. 

At one side of him stands a pale girl with brown hair cropped to her chin, in a mock biker jacket despite the heat carrying the promised soccer ball Eddie left to retrieve. A half step behind her is a taller guy with dark blonde hair, a smile on his face. You meet his eyes accidentally, forcing yourself to smile despite your confusion so he doesn't get the wrong idea. 

They must be Eddie's friends. You've met Gareth, from his old band, and Melanie, one of the cooks from The Hideout, but you haven't met these guys. 

"Y/N, sweetheart," he says, rather proudly, if you do say so yourself, "these losers caught me at home. Robin," —he points at the girl, who smiles with all her teeth— "my very good friend, and Steve, her leech." 

"Hi," Steve says first, surprising you again. "And that's Junie?" 

"That's Junie," Eddie says, again so proudly. 

"Hi Junie," Steve says. He's smiling at you, sure, but he's beaming at your baby. "Holy– she's bigger than I thought, I kind of pictured a baby baby, you know?" 

"I showed you a picture, man," Eddie says.

"She didn't look this old in the picture," Steve says. He looks heistant for a second. "Can we sit down?" 

"Yeah– yes, yeah, please. Can I get you guys something to drink?" you say, sitting up too quick and almost tipping Junie out of your lap. She says, "Woah!" in her little voice and Steve, Robin and Eddie all laugh. 

"I'll get drinks, don't worry," Eddie says. 

He walks around your towel to head up the trailer steps. Steve sits on the grass by your towel, and Robin kneels with the ball in her hands opposite. Neither is dressed for the sunny weather but they don't seem to mind. 

"It's nice to meet you," Steve says, giving Robin a weighted look. 

"We've been asking," Robin says. 

"I didn't know," you say apologetically. 

"No, we know, you're like Munson's best kept secret half the time. One minute he's showing us your picture all smug but when we ask about you he just rolls his eyes." 

"'Wouldn't you like to know,'" Robin quotes with a smarmy smile. 

"So he doesn't talk about me?" you ask. 

"He doesn't shut up," Steve says. "Sorry, we're kind of kidding." 

"Oh–" Junie wriggles in your arms. Her face is in your neck, but she keeps turning to sneak peeks at these friendly newcomers. For once, being a mom is gonna save you from awkwardness rather than subject you to it further. "June," you say softly, "you wanna say hello? These are Eddie's friends. You can say hi, baby." 

Junie isn't shy around new people. After your reassurance and a couple more seconds looking at them with mild suspicion, Junie turns her face to Robin and says, "Hi." 

"Hi," she says back. "She's a really pretty kid. Me and Steve have worked at the video store for like, almost three years, and we see some uggos." 

"Rob," Steve says.

"What?" Robin asks. 

"You can't say that." 

"Mom," Junie says. 

You look down as she looks up. "What?" 

"Where's Eddie?" she asks. 

You lean back and turn her encouragingly toward the open trailer door. "He's inside. He's coming back." 

"He…" She looks between you and the doorway. Her voice is quiet. "Play soccer and me?" 

"Yeah, he's gonna play soccer with you." 

"With me," she says. 

You grin. "Exactly." 

You've only ever had Junie, so you don't know what counts as slow or advanced or normal, but you know kids all go at their own pace, and that most get there eventually without help. 

Your girl's never been quiet. She speaks even when she doesn't have the words. Daycare and your dedicated encouragement have brought it on suddenly, leaps and bounds of words, but she's still slightly behind, you think, although you trust that she'll get there when she can. Her vocabulary grows every single day. 

"How old is she?" Robin asks, pulling her knees to her chest, soccer ball held in front of her shoes. 

"Uh, she'll be three really soon," you say. 

"Oh, she's kind of small," Steve says. 

"You just said she was big," Robin says belligerently. 

"I already said, she looks different in the picture," Steve says, frowning at Robin forcefully. "Does she look three to you?" 

"Yeah, doofus," Robin says. 

"Her birthday's in June, so it's really coming," Eddie says, a tray in hand you barely remember owning and bedecked in drinks. 

He has four big lemonades and June's sippy cup, the pink one that was supposed to help her transition from bottles to cups and has yet to be progressed from further. Like always, these things take time. 

"Can you believe that?" you ask. "It's already summer." 

"Ew, no. I need time to slow down. Summer at the video store is hell, and it's about to get worse because Steve's ditching me." 

"How come?" you ask.

Eddie sits beside you with the tray. It impresses you that he doesn't tip a drop, until you remember that he's a bus boy, and at times when the Hideout gets super busy he acts as a regular waiter, just like you. 

"Steve's gonna start working at Cork Kids," Eddie says. 

"The daycare? No way, that's where Junie goes," you say excitedly.  

"Really?" Steve asks, smiling again. "I just signed my contract with them. Looks like we might be seeing each other all the time, Junie." 

"You'll have a friend before you start," you say. 

"Oh, thanks," Steve says, looking down at his lap momentarily. 

You side eye Eddie, who gives you a look that says he knows what you're thinking. At first glance, Steve looked like a normal, perhaps preppy guy, but it makes sense that there's some uncertainty there. Eddie seems to attract earnest people with self-esteem issues.

"Have you been around kids before?" you ask. 

"I– yeah, I had to take a course, but this is my first go at it as a job. I can handle it though, I'm good with kids. I'm new to looking after the younger ones."

"It's hard work," Eddie says. 

You shake your head. "No, it's easy, they're lovely. My June is a sweetheart, I promise." 

"She makes it look easy," Eddie says, shaking his head vehemently. 

Robin snickers at Eddie's fear mongering and drops the soccer ball in favour of one of the glasses of lemonade. Ice cubes clink against the side of the glass as she takes a sip.

Junie's interest is piqued by the ball. She sits up in your lap, looking tentatively between the adults surrounding her and the prize ahead. Robin nudges the ball toward her subtly with her foot. Junie's delighted as it rolls toward her, standing so she can grab it. It makes her look small to be holding something so big near her head. 

"Do you wanna play?" Eddie asks her. 

Junie shrugs. "With you?" 

"Yeah, with me." 

She looks at Robin. "Play?" 

"Sure," Robin says. 

"What about me?" Steve asks. "Can I play, too?" 

Junie looks oddly hesitant. You rub one of her arms briefly. "Steve can play too, right, baby?" 

She squints at him. "Okay. Steve too." 

Eddie chokes on a laugh. "Exactly how I feel about him. Oh, come on, Harrington! You know I'm joking. Just get up already, Junie wants to play." 

—

Eddie's lying down in the grass a couple of hours later when you sit at his hip. He's tuckered out from running, kicking, and throwing June around, and he's in desperate need of a shower. You clearly don't care, bending over his prone form, your arms around his stomach in a skewiff hug.

"Hi, handsome." 

"Hi. She's sleeping?" 

You'd dragged Junie inside and out of the sun to change and feed her, and Eddie had stayed outside to say a proper goodbye to his friends. Now they're gone, and the lack of her points to one obvious explanation. 

"Missed her nap. She was asleep by her third mouthful." 

"That's my bad." 

"No, she had the most fun she's ever had today." 

What's better than one person willing to dote on you? Four. Steve had been eager and honestly more than happy to meet Junie and get to know her, and Robin had been awkward at first but just as kind. Good thing: Junie declared Robin her new best friend. Eddie couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Steve, but she warmed up to him eventually. 

"I'm glad, actually, 'cos I've totally fucked my jeans. Cancels out."

You'd absolutely decimated your jeans with grass stains. Reluctant, you'd agreed to play soccer, or a mismatch game with way less players. You, Junie, and Robin against the boys. You were starting to enjoy yourself when you slid, and Eddie thought, Oh, fuck, she's gonna be embarrassed, ready to jump in and help you up, but you burst out laughing and Junie ran to your side, ecstatic at the sound.  

"I'll get you new jeans." 

"I'll get myself new jeans," you say, rubbing your nose against his chest. It tickles, butterflies erupting beneath your touch. "It'll wash out. Probably." 

"I'll get you new jeans," he says firmly, searching for your hand. 

He wraps his fingers around it and feels your skin without motive, the sky a calmed, darkening blue above him, orange and pink hints whispering at the horizon. 

"Do you think they liked me?" 

"They did. I know they did. Steve gave me that look guys give each other." 

"That look," you croon, laying down in the grass beside him. 

Eddie misses your hugging but lavishes in the feeling of you under his arm, your face turning into his chest. He lifts his head to see you've closed your eyes and pressed your mouth against his shirt. 

"He's jealous." 

"He's not jealous," you say fondly. 

"He should be," Eddie says, curling his arm around you. 

"Don't flirt with me." 

"I can't stop." 

You laugh. He doesn't hear it so much as feel it, the gentle shaking of your shoulders. Dropping his nose into your hair, Eddie closes his eyes as you have and breathes you in. 

"Holy shit," he says, pretending to be alarmed. 

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

"Tell me," you say. 

"No, it's nothing." 

You huff showfully and lift your head to look at him in question. The longer you look the weaker your resolve becomes, until you're cupping his face, total adoration in your eyes as you ask, "What?" 

"Just can't believe we're together," he says. He lifts his chin. Your hand falls to his neck. "That's all." 

You soften further. There's a hint of sadness to your tone, "Me neither." 

"It shouldn't be feasible for someone to have as much luck as I do. Hey, d'you think you could kiss my dice before I leave tonight?" 

You tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, your gaze on his lips and chin.

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah, I'll kiss your dice… m'just thinking." 

The wind blows mildly, lapping the smell of grass and dry dirt your way. Eddie finds he kind of likes it, but that could be the smell of you overtop, domineering as it is. Jasmine, the lingering scent of talcum powder, honey and milk hand soap. The last remnants of your shampoo, if he really thinks about it. You smell like everything he's ever wanted. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks quietly. 

"You and me." 

"I'm always thinking about you and me," he says. 

You hug him, hiding your face in his chest for a second time. "I'm the lucky one," you say. 

Eddie stretches back in the soft grass and looks up into the sky. Sunset approaches without any concern for what Eddie wants; to stay here with you for a long, long while. It's too bad that he has to find a lock for your bathroom, and go see Gareth and the remaining Hellfire Club (or rather, the remaining members of his Hellfire generation) for another session of D&D.

"Maybe I'll call. Cancel." 

"No, you have to go. You spend too much time with me as it is. You need your friends, and you'll have fun when you're there, you always do." 

"I don't spend enough time with you," he says. 

If he had it his way, he'd happily spend forever locked in time with you here, the warmth of your body sinking into his side and his hair trapped under your weight. It tugs every time you move. He likes you so much that he doesn't consider asking you to stay still. 

It's quiet. Eddie can hear the wind over the grass, the ticking wheel spokes of bikes somewhere not far, and your breathing. Slow, deep breaths. 

"I'm glad I could fall in love with you before I noticed it was happening," he says, his voice low and a tad rough.

Your breath catches. 

It's a half truth. He was well aware of how much he liked you, but hadn't realised it was going to be such an intense sort of reverential affection until he was already knee deep in it. 

"I barely felt it," he says. "No, that's wrong," —he smiles, his words warmed by affection— "I did feel it. I felt it and it was intense, but it was ridiculously easy. Like I'd already done it before. One day I'm stealing looks at you over Friday dessert and the next I wanted you so badly I couldn't make myself ask for it.

"And… even though I wanted you, I think I fell in love with being your friend first. I'm fucking grateful for that, for you. You're everything to me." A best friend and a great love. 

"Oh," you mumble, your hand sliding up his chest to the space opposite his heart. "You might actually have to cancel seeing your friends, I don't think I can let you leave after that." 

You lift your chin, steer his face to yours, and kiss him. It's soft, but Eddie can feel an exuberance underneath it. Like a vibration. A thrumming fondness for him in the way you pull away and dive right back in. 

One kiss turns to two, and a third lends itself to something deeper, his lips parting under the light pressure of your weight above him. 

He drapes his arm behind your neck, hooking you into the crook of it. The kisses after that are endless and too short, heavy and not heavy enough. He can't tell his own touch from yours, your hands or his hands, the tip of your nose as it slides into his; as you search downward for something more. 

"Public indecency," he says when he can't breathe, nudging you away. 

You draw in a big breath and sit up so you're kneeling beside him. He sits up too in an attempt to minimise the space between you, feeling flushed as though he's done a forbidden thing, rather than having just kissed his partner. 

He grabs your hands. He isn't ready to part with them. 

"I think I fell in love with you when I cut your hair," you say. The setting sun is like gold, your skin aglow in its wash. 

"Yeah?" 

"Or maybe the first time that you came to see me at work." Your eyes light up at the memory. "You didn't even try to pretend it was for food. You didn't care." 

He shakes your hands around mindlessly. "The haircut was a big event for me, too," he says through another smile. 

They're constant when he's with you. 

"Do you still want me to cut your hair?" you ask, tilting your head to one side in appraisal. 

"Maybe tomorrow. I think I'd lose my mind tonight." 

"I think so, too," you say.

You lean down as you lift one of his hands to the underside of your chin, rubbing your skin with his knuckles. You draw a line with his hand, your chin to your jaw to your cheek. 

His heart skips a beat at the sight. Your serene expression, your soft cheek, and the little smile that blooms as he opens his hand and strokes quarter circles into the desired space with his thumb. 

"Are you gonna shower before you go?" you ask mildly, eyes half-lidded. 

"Do I smell?" 

"Kind of," you say. 

"You never smell gross," he says, a tiny lie. Everybody smells bad sometimes, but the majority of the time you smell like heaven on earth. 

You roll your eyes. "You're all talk." 

"Maybe. Maybe not." 

He leans in for a quick kiss, like a dotting of the lips. He does it another two times, to be sure you feel as loved as he feels. "Okay, I better go. I'll shower, and I'll see if there's a lock I can borrow for the bathroom 'til I have time to go to the store." 

"You don't have to do that, I can take Junie and get one tonight."

He kisses you again. "It's okay," he says with a smile, his lips a hair's width from yours. He pulls away. "I don't mind. Saves you having to get her ready, I know she's a demon in the store lately." 

"She used to be our little lady," you lament faux-tearfully. 

"That she did, sweetheart. That she did." 

Eddie pulls himself out of your arms reluctantly. 

Wayne's eating a grilled cheese sandwich over the sink when Eddie gets home, and a second when he gets out of the shower, so he picks Wayne's brain and towel dries his hair. 

"How do we stop June from getting into the bathroom?" he asks, hanging his head upside down and scrubbing at his stringy curls. 

"Lock it." 

"If we don't have a lock?" he asks, looking through his curtain of hair. 

"Buy one." Wayne shrugs. 

Eddie drops the towel onto the floor by his feet. "I'm going to. But for tonight?" 

"Put a chair under the door of your room so she can't leave when you're asleep." 

"Not my room," Eddie says. A flush colours his cheeks. 

"Are you going to move in with her? You could get a new place, rent one of those houses by the elementary school. They're nice enough." 

"Woah, woah, who says I'm moving out?" Eddie asks, laughing nervously. 

Wayne takes a big bite of sandwich and Eddie suffers without an answer until he's done. "'We,'" Wayne says, "you keep saying 'we'. Sounds serious."  

"I think it's a little soon to move in," Eddie says. 

"Me too. But if you're thinking about it, it doesn't hurt to start saving. I'll help." 

Eddie wants to say no, you definitely won't. "Yeah," he says instead, coughing to cover the tickle in his throat. "Alright. Thanks, Wayne." 

"Moving is expensive, but she can't stay in that place forever. Junie'll outgrow it in a year." 

"We live in almost the exact same trailer," Eddie says with a laugh. 

"Exactly. And we're comfortable." Wayne swigs his coke. "But if I could've, we would've moved." 

"You still could." 

"Are you kidding me? This is my home. When you move out I think I'll stay in the front room, I like it in there. TV in bed, big windows." 

"I bet you'll like it more when I'm not around keeping you up at night." 

Wayne shrugs. "Most people live with their kids until they're eighteen, right? We had a late start. You're entitled to a couple more if you want them… but something tells me you'll be flying the coop soon enough." 

"Not that soon." 

Wayne sniffs like this is upsetting for him, "Well, whenever you're ready, kid." 

—

Eddie comes back a little later to tell you to trap the baby in your room tonight and he'll get you a lock first thing in the morning, promise. You love him because he calls her 'the baby', and because he could've called rather than park up his van and tell you in person. He gives you another kiss, you can't count how many that makes it, saying he'll see you tomorrow, and that's that. 

Junie wakes up from her nap not long after. She's startlingly grumpy considering, and she demonstrates the horror of motherhood concisely —she screams, she cries, she pushes your glass of juice off of the table. It smashes it into a hundred different pieces. 

She screams louder when you pick her up to stop her from cutting her feet. 

You love her, but it's been a long day. You're exhausted, your head hurts, and it's difficult to clean up smashed glass with a kid. You don't wanna leave her unattended when she's wound up in case she has a tantrum. She's given herself bruises before, and you don't want or need that to happen again. 

If you put her down she might try to touch the glass. You clutch her to your chest and sweep the glass up one-handed. It takes a long time, and she only grows more irate as it passes, wiggling in your arms to be put down. 

She squirms and pulls her arms from under yours, hitting you square in the face by mistake. You're lucky it hadn't happened earlier. They don't mean to, but babies in tantrums tend to flail around, and June's great at chinning you. 

It's an accident, you know it is, but you flinch and almost drop her. 

"Juniper," you say firmly, desperate for an intermission. 

She quietens a touch. You take a very deep breath, abandon the almost full dustpan, and walk as quickly as you can to your room. You put Junie down on her toddler bed, put Mr. Bear in her lap, and crawl into bed with a pillow over your head. 

You don't scream or anything, but you could. One sharp moment. You could really scream. You would if you thought it wouldn't scare her. 

It's not Junie's fault. You have a shorter fuse than usual and it's incredibly frustrating when she gets in one of these moods, but she's your baby, you made her, and she's growing up. It must be frustrating for her, too. 

She cries quietly in bed, the sound turning your heart. You try to stop your own tears and give yourself a minute in hiding. You nibble your lip. Why are you so stressed? You can't work it out. 

You know she's hardwork sometimes, but it's not her fault. It's not your fault, either. You're both doing the best you can. 

You take a breath, another, and peel the pillow from your head.

She has snot on her face, wide-eyed and hugging Mr. Bear to her cheek.

Your nose stings. 

"You wanna come and lie in bed with me?" you ask, begging whoever it is that's watching over you to have her give in. 

With Mr. Bear's ear in her fist, Junie slides off of the bed and crosses the small space of the room to yours. You pull her up onto your mattress and smile at her. Guilt is a leaden weight in your stomach. It aches, seeing her all covered in tears, worse because she looks properly scolded. You don't often tell her off. 

"Your nose?" she says. 

"It's okay." You clear your throat. "It's okay, lovely girl." 

She blinks at you and raises her hand to your nose. You let her feel it, even though it hurts. 

"Does it look like it's hurting?" you ask. 

She doesn't usually connect her actions like this. A month ago she bit your index finger and couldn't figure out why you pulled your hand away. You're surprised that this is different. 

"No…" She sniffles. 

"I'm okay. Don't be worried, baby, mom's alright. It doesn't hurt. But you can give it a little kiss, if you want. That'll be good." 

You bend down for her. 

"Kiss?" you ask. 

She leans up and kisses the tip of your nose. It's not a clean kiss. You don't mind. 

"Thank you." 

"You'w welcome," she mumbles. 

You sigh, pulling your shirt sleeve over your hand so you can wipe her messy face. "Let me clean you up, you're all snotty. Make you feel better. There we go, there's my girl. I couldn't see you under all the tears." You stroke her cheek with your knuckle. "I'm sorry, baby. Everything was very overwhelming. Should we try again?" 

She looks like she might grizzle. 

"Let's have dinner, yeah? You can pick something from the freezer. Any dinner you want." 

Dinner works for a time, but afterward she has more sulking to do. You keep her on her toes, playing games and watching TV. She's clean but you're pulling out all the stops, filling the baby bath for her and letting her play until the water's cold and you're soaked from her rubber ducks. 

She still doesn't sleep. In a last ditch effort, you give her a bottle of warm milk, though she's aged out of formula now, and it works. 

She falls asleep hours later than she should. It's nearly 11PM. 

You look down at her asleep on your chest. Her eyes are swollen from crying buckets. Your own prickle, until tears swim and your vision blurs.

You press the back of your hand to your mouth, eyes scrunched closed, and try to make as little noise as possible. It's awful timing, you'll wake her before she's properly sleeping, but you've felt so tired today, and even when Eddie's friends came for a couple of hours you were already rubbed raw. You're tired all the time.  

In compliance with the nature of being upset, the things that are upsetting you grow in size. They double, quadruple, until they're heavy enough to knock you down for the count, have you crying like a kid out of pure defeat. You cry so hard it pulls every bit of energy you have and kills it, so hard you couldn't make noise if you wanted to, about everything and nothing. You're at the end of your rope. 

You rub Junie's back and wish someone was rubbing your own. It's an odd distress. 

It's lucky you hear his footsteps on the steps outside. 

If Eddie walked in on you like this, you'd never forgive yourself. You can't imagine it. He's seen you hungry, greasy. He's watched you put things back at the store, he knows you lived off of leftovers and saltiness for months. And you'd do it all again for your girl, but it still hurts thinking he's seen you that low. 

You shudder, sucking in two big breaths that won't work. 

You drag a rumpled sleeve over your cheeks and try not to move. 

The knock is very gentle. You can picture him on the other side, stooped and waiting for you to let him in. If he thinks you're asleep he won't knock again, and it's late. If you can stay quiet for long enough, he'll go home. 

He tries the handle. 

"Oh, my god," he says when it opens, "I'm gonna fight her." 

The her in question sniffs and wipes her eyes again. Eddie flinches at the sound, his head whipping to the side to find you where you're balled up on the couch. 

"Holy shit, what's wrong?" he asks. 

You shake your head. "N-nothing," you stammer quietly. 

"What?" he asks, like this is preposterous, and you guess it is. Something seems very wrong. 

He kicks his shoes off by the door as he closes it and doesn't waste any time, though he's quiet and careful as he crosses the room and sits down next to you. 

His hand cups your cheek, feeling the tacky damp there for himself. 

"What's wrong? Tell me… tell me,” he says. 

"It's nothing," you say. 

You'd wanted a hand to rub your back, but it's sudden. He's here, and he's seen you crying, and you have no control over it. You never really do. 

"It looks like something," he whispers. 

You cover Junie's head with your hand. Your smile is somehow more concerning than your frown, if Eddie's reaction is anything to go off of. 

"I'm fine." 

"How long has she been sleeping?" he asks. 

"I don't know.” You sniffle.

For some reason, Eddie's question starts you off again, tears welling in your eyes like fat drops of dew and falling just as fast. One squeezes under his hand. 

"Is something hurting?" he asks, his brow pinched now, nothing but patience in his tone. 

"No." 

"How about I put her to bed for you?" he asks. 

"Yes, please." 

His frown deepens as the tears build. You're horrified to notice his wince at your shuddering, but breath won't come right. His hands needle under Junie's front, tense as a taut string, and Eddie lifts her into his arms, not quite practised. He shushes her when she mumbles. 

"I'll be right back," he mouths.

You nod at his promise. As soon as he's cleared the living room you curl forward, face in your hands, shoulders shaking hard as you wipe your cheeks, catching tears before they race the hill of your cheek. 

Things must go well. Eddie's back thirty seconds later, and he's worried. 

"Hey, hey. Tell me what happened," he murmurs, perching on the couch next to you.

You try. You're not sure what's upset you, and when you open your mouth nothing wants to come out. Eddie's never, ever seen you cry like this, and it's clear that it's freaking him out. 

He curves his arm behind your shoulders and pulls you to his side, voice a pleading murmur as he says, "What's wrong? Please, sweetheart, tell me." 

"I'm tired," you force out. The main issue. 

"I know." 

"Sorry, I don't– know why I'm crying so much," you say, words staggered.

Eddie encourages your head under his chin. There's nothing specific beyond that, no more talking from either of you. He hugs your shoulders tightly, likely tighter than he means to, as though he's worried you'll come apart if he doesn't. The strange feeling of helplessness abates slowly, like an ebbing tide guided away from the shore. 

Your sobs turn to smaller, spluttering tears, until the panic fades completely, and the waterworks eventually stop. 

"I'm sorry," you mumble, fighting the sore lump in your throat.  

"It's okay." You can feel him swallow. "You scared me. You– Do you need something? Some water?"

"No…" You feel like a little kid and like you're too old at the same time. You haven't cried that hard in a long time, and you hadn't had Eddie there to sit with you through it. You're grateful for that, if nothing else. "Can you just–" You turn toward him. "Can I have a hug?" 

He steel arms you into his chest, dropping a kiss against your hot forehead.  

"Yes," he says, punctuating with more kisses. "No question about it. You can have anything you want from me. Would it make you feel better if I cried, too? I can do that, sweetheart, I could really go for it. In sixth grade, I made myself cry so hard I threw up 'cos I wanted to get out of gym." 

You choke on a laugh. 

He doubles down. 

"I was dry heaving on the bleachers for an hour," he says, his hand behind your head and vying for your clammy neck, stroking a line when he finds it. "They wouldn't send me to the nurse." 

"I don't need you to cry. It's… Junie's been wound up like a top all day, and she woke up and just screamed for hours, Eds, screamed. She couldn't have been asleep ten minutes when you got here." 

"I'm sorry. That must have been overwhelming." 

You peer up into his face to gauge his expression. Not that you think he's ingenuine, but you're worried he's humouring you. 

"I got mad at her." 

He hums. "Yeah?" 

"I didn't mean to, but she hit me." 

"What?" 

"By accident." 

"No, I figured. Where'd she get you?" 

"My nose," you admit. 

Eddie leans out of the circle of your arms to see your face, bringing a hand to your cheek. He assesses your nose. You want to tell him there's nothing to find, but it's nice to be checked over. His palm is warm. 

"If you're crying because you got angry, I promise it's alright. Everybody has a breaking point." 

"I know." You hadn't been cruel. You took what you could, and when it got too much you set her down and had a breather. 

"Wayne got so mad at me one time he asked me to go get him rosemary toothpaste just so he could have an hour away from me." 

"Rosemary toothpaste?" 

He turns your head slightly to the side. "Doesn't exist." 

"What did you do to make him mad?" 

"Cut all the sleeves off of my t-shirts." 

"All of them?" 

"Every single shirt I owned. It was a cold winter." 

He smiles, his pale cheeks appled, his big brown eyes reflecting your own. 

"Did you get really mad?" he asks softly. 

"No,” you say, cutting yourself some slack. “I didn’t.”

“You know you're allowed though?”

“I don't want to get mad at her. She can't help it.”

“Neither can you. I'm not saying you should yell at her, but don't beat yourself up for not enjoying a sucker punch.”

“It wasn’t that. I’m not upset about it, I mean, I’m not very happy but it’s not the first time I felt overwhelmed by her. I don’t care if she drives me up the wall sometimes, I don’t even care about the impromptu nose job,” —Eddie whoops, before covering his mouth apologetically— “or that she took awhile to go down. I really don't know why…”

“I'm going to say something.”

“Oh no.”

“Not trying to be a freak here, but maybe you're visiting with the devil.”

You sit back. His hands fall to your hips. 

“Sorry?” you ask. 

Eddie smiles ruefully. “You know. Riding the crimson wave.” He grimaces at your continued confusion. “Time of month?”

You’re embarrassed thinking he’s embarrassed by it, but luckily he furthers, “Sorry if that’s weird to say, I don’t know if that’s weird. I’d, like, crawl across hot coals for you, I really don’t care if that’s what it is, just girls get kind of intense. Emotionally. At that time.”

“Oh really?” you ask. 

His skin turns ashen. “Um–”

“I'm kidding,” you say.

Your hand drifts to your stomach. It would make sense as to why you’re feeling very tired and confused about your emotions, and it might be nearing that time. You’re so busy you haven't been keeping track. “Maybe it is,” you say, mumbling still.

“I’m not saying you can't have a breakdown if you need one,” he says. 

“No, I know. Maybe you’re right. I kind of hope you're right.”

“Is this awkward?” 

“You sleep in my bed nearly every night, Eds. I dont think it's awkward unless you do.”

“Again, I’d crawl across hot coals for you, so… this is the most minor thing ever. Not for you, for me. For you, it sucks. For me?” He pinches your cheek gently. “I worship the ground you walk on, you loser, I don't care if it’s shark week. We’re not in middle school.

“But if it isn’t hormones making you unhappy, if you really feel this awful, you can tell me.”

“I don't know what it is," you say, embarrassed, a headache pounding in your temple. 

“That’s okay though, right? Or is it too much?”

“I feel better,” you say. It's true and not true. 

Fuck, he’s sweet. His lips pout ever so slightly in concern for you, his brows pinching down. His hands remain steadfast on your hips. 

“Well, if it gets too much you gotta let me know. Legally. That’s the whole point of having a boyfriend, I think. You gotta let me take care of you… You're sure you feel better?”

“Yeah. I really am sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being a loser.” You laugh wetly. 

“Ah, but you're my loser,” he says, arms curling behind your back again. “I don't want you to cry, but if you are going to then I’m glad it’s when you’re with me, yeah? I don’t like that you were crying alone. Think of all the amazing support you missed out on. I could’ve been rubbing your back that whole time.” He rubs your back in emphasis. 

“That feels nice.”

“Do you have any aches?”

“I always have aches, I’m a waitress.”

“Me too.” He presses his lips to your skin. “Let me make you something to drink, and I’ll stay the night, if that’s cool? I can rub your back for hours without getting tired.” 

“‘Cos you have such big muscles,” you agree indulgently. He has amazingly shaped biceps, but that’s besides the point. 

“That is exactly why.”

He blows a breath out against your cheek and sits back into the couch. “Do me a favour? Next time I ask you what’s wrong, don't say nothing. Don’t hide when you’re feeling like shit, I need to know.”

"Okay. Yeah, I will. Just… you always see me at my worst." 

Eddie chucks under your chin and begins to stand. "I get to see you at your best, too. It's a good deal." 

It’s a good deal, you mouth to yourself.

“Get up,” he says from the front door, mock-cross when you don't immediately follow, “I can't go to bed by myself.” He locks the front door, sliding the deadbolt home. “You didn’t kiss my dice, you know? That’s why I came tonight, to harp at you.”

“And that couldn't wait until tomorrow?”

Eddie glares at you, “No?”

You hold your hands up, your voice still thick from tears but inarguably in love. “Alright. Harp at me. But carry me to bed first.”

It’s not long before he’s pushing his head against your side, arms at your waist in an attempt to lift you over his shoulder like a fireman, whisper-yelling, “What are you saying? You asked me to carry you! I can’t hear you, babe, just brace yourself.”

—

Junie has the sense that you're being weird. She’s three, or one day away from it, and she won’t remember anything you’re saying right now but she’ll remember how she felt, the warmth of your loving hand in her hair, stroking it from her face as you and Eddie titter at one another. Eddie’s like you, in a way, a mom but not around as much. Almost as much recently, though, which is great news. 

“I saw one in the department store by the bus station,” Eddie says, strumming his guitar. It plinks. 

Junie sniffs, her nose a little runny, and dips her head back against your chest. You smell like home, the sweet and soft swirl of lavender and jasmine laundry powder, a burning smell she doesn’t really care for that comes after you sit on the floor and press the clothes —hot hot hot, junebug— every other night, and the treats you’re sharing. 

“Sounds expensive,” you say gently. 

“So?”

“So,” you say, and Junie bristles at the mild annoyance in your tone, because you are incredibly soft-handed and have been since she was born, “I won’t be able to afford it, Eds.” Your annoyance fades as soon as it comes, and you say ‘Eds’ so nicely that Junie turns her face and rubs her cheek into your t-shirt. 

“You okay, baby?” you ask her. 

Junie huffs, pleased. She is very okay. Even better when you offer her another chocolatey cookie. 

“It’s her birthday, she only gets one a year. And I’d be happy to pay for it, anyways.”

“Yeah, you’re always happy to pay for things, you have a screw loose.”

Eddie laughs. Junie laughs at his laughing; whenever he’s laughing there’s happiness afoot. He loves to swing her around in his arms, tickle her, play with her small army of teddies and make them speak. He beams at her from his seat on the floor in front of the TV, the guitar that she’s grown to revere twanging as he puts it down on the floor. 

“Hearing that, bug? Your mommy can’t leave me alone today.” 

Junie, for all her brilliant smarts, her growing mind, doesn’t really get what he means. She knows that she’s the bug he’s talking to, and that he’s doing something fun from the lilting cadence of his teasing, but beyond that it’s nonsense. 

She loses interest quickly and returns to her melting cookie, unperturbed by the mess that it makes of her small hands and once-pristine sleeves. You never shout about stains, so Junie doesn’t see a problem, not until you laugh, the breath of it warm against her ear, and push the sleeves of her shirt up the lengths of her arms. She’s wearing her very favourite strawberry pyjamas today, though they make her agitated every now and then because they don’t feel quite right. She doesn’t see why. They’ve always been the best.

“Don’t listen to stinky,” you say. 

Junie nods. Mom always knows best, she knows, in an abstract way. Except for when you say that the one-eyed stray that slinks around doesn’t like pets. He loves them when you’re not looking. 

“We have a chance to make it a really special day, so why don’t we? It’ll pay for itself. The sun’ll be out morning, noon, and night soon, and she can use it every day.”

“Morning, noon, and night,” you repeat. “Very Tolkien of you.”

Eddie makes a pleased sound as he stands up. Junie thinks he is the tallest person in the world. “Thank you,” he says sincerely.

He squeezes Junie’s toes as he passes, and despite how weird it feels she kind of likes it. She loves Eddie, astronomically, gargantuanly, though these are big words to her. 

Love can't be described in the words that she knows, but it can be acted out. She drops her cookie like it’s aflame and slips out of your comfortable lap: you are the very best seat, even better than being in bed. Still, she abandons you and your cookies and follows Eddie in a run to the kitchen where he’s opening the fridge. 

“Drink, pretty girl?” he asks her, voice saccharine sweet. 

She makes a sound of delight. “Up!”

“Say please,” he directs, already squatting down to grab her. 

“Please up!” she demands, walking into his waiting arms. 

Again, Eddie’s like you. As mom, you feel not too different from Junie herself. She doesn’t know that she misses you, but she does miss you heartily when you leave her at the daycare for the day, or sometimes when she wakes up first in the mornings and can’t climb into bed with you. She doesn’t understand missing you, only wanting you, and she wants Eddie in the same capacity. When he picks her up she feels better, and happy, and loved when his hand stretches palm-flat over her back and pats a turbulent rhythm. 

He sings too fast to understand, one of his loud songs. Your music is quieter, because you’re a quiet mom. You whisper when she falls asleep on your chest, singing love songs under your breath as the night creeps in, and your footfall is carefully measured. But you laugh loudly, one of Junie’s favourite sounds in the whole world —up there with the Muppet Babies’ theme song and the squeak your tennis shoes make when you half-run to the baby gate at pick up. 

Eddie laughs much, much louder, usually in tandem with you, or if not then only a few seconds before. He also growls, raspberries, and chortles. He does the best Animal impression ever, like the muppet himself is hiding around the corner. 

“Here, June, you have your sippy cup, there's a good girl. You’re not drinking much today, what’s the matter? Is your juice not yummy enough?” 

Junie takes the offered sippy cup and tries to formulate a response. It’s hard, because Eddie said lot’s of things all at once, and there were two different questions in the mix. She catches onto the very last, giving her sippy cup a good shake as she answers, “It’s yummy.”

You and Eddie love when Junie speaks. Your faces glow. It’s the best. 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. 

“Yes,” she tries. “Juice.” She changes her mind. “Cookies?”

“One track mind,” Eddie says. 

Junie takes it for an I love you, of sorts. The way he says it suggests affection, she can’t pinpoint exactly what, but it’s how you sound when you tell her every day. She pushes her hands into his hair and then around his neck to give him a deliberate hug. He does the humming thing he tends to do when he’s picked her up, pat-pat-patting her back even as she pulls away. 

“Is the cuddle over?” he asks, pouting at her, his eyes widening. “Mom wasn’t even jealous yet.”

“Shut up,” you say happily. 

“Have a drink,” Eddie insists to Junie, encouraging the mouth of her sippy cup to her chin. “It’s a warm day today, me and you and mommy have to drink lots and lots to stay healthy. Did you want another drink?”

Junie has a drink, but she doesn't bother correcting him. 

“Please, handsome, if you don’t mind," you say.

Handsome is kind of like junebug, only you never call Junie handsome, so it must be Eddie’s alone. Junie doesn’t mind: she gets called baby and babe and bub and sweetheart and even little lady when she’s being really good. 

It goes without saying that she feels very, very loved. Even her name feels like a pet name when you say it most the time. 

"Junie doesn't need a super big one, she's just one girl. She'd be happy with a kiddie–" You cough. "Whatever size."

"I know she'd be happy," Eddie says, Junie still in his arms and confused. 

He's multi-tasking, filling up your prettiest cup until the enamel flowers are starkly backgrounded by juice and ice. Eddie pulls Junie up higher on his side and kisses her forehead. "You've been a happy gal lately. Which is good, good for mom, and good for you." He smiles until she smiles back.  

"What I'm saying," Eddie starts over Junie's head, carrying her and your cup back to the living room, "is that I want to get it for her, please. I'll go now while it's still open, and I'll have to get a hose and an air pump or something from somewhere so that'll take time, and filling it up might take an hour or two. 'Cos, listen, I'll pay for it and if the water bill is ridiculous I'll pay for that, too–" 

"I don't want you to pay for it, Eds, you don't work ten hour shifts six days a week to spend it all on us." 

"No," he says agreeably, sitting down beside you, Junie in his lap. She spots the cookies she'd been missing and reaches across to your lap. You take her on instinct, and boom, cookies achieved. "I barely ever work six days a week anymore, and you're right that I don't work to spend it all on you guys. I spend too much of on nerd crap, another too much on groceries, and some of it goes into savings–"

"What savings?" you say, laughing like this is a funny joke. 

"–but really, I don't think of it as spending money on you, babe, and I bet you don't think of it like that either. We're not keeping a tally chart." 

"Of course not," you say softly, putting your hand on Eddie's shoulder, "I didn't mean to imply that." 

"You didn't," Eddie says, just as soft. "I'm just saying, it's not about money. You know it yourself, the less you have the more you want to give, and I have enough to blow her mind, so I think we should do it. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable or uneasy," —he says uneasy like it's a slimy word, making Junie giggle— "so if you don't want me to, I won't. We'll find something else, it really doesn't matter. Don't get stressed." 

"I think I'm always stressed," you murmur, sinking down into your seat. Junie twists to look at you, startled at your sudden change in attitude. You've moved from happy to sad. It's odd. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be a nag." 

Eddie laughs, the sound as startled as Junie's feeling. "You're not a nag! Do I make you feel like a nag?" 

"No, I just know I am…" 

"You are not a nag. You have a lot on your plate all the time, and you worry about money because you need to. I'm not blaming you for something that's not your fault," Eddie says. 

Junie likes this part. Eddie slides an arm behind your shoulders, kisses your cheek, and speaks in murmurs as you relax under his touch, "You're allowed to be stressed, don't feel guilty. Just let me have some of the stress too, alright? Don't be greedy." 

"This sucks." 

"It doesn't suck." Eddie lowers his voice to a whisper, Junie can't hear what he says next. "Let me buy the pool, babe. She'll love it. It has a built-in slide." 

"I know what one you're talking about, and it was one hundred and fifty dollars." 

"I have it. If she uses it every day for the summer, that's like two dollars a day." 

"She won't, though." 

"Well, we waste money all the time. We bought that box of apples from that guy on the side of the road the other day for ten dollars and we didn't eat a single one." 

"That's different, we forgot they were in the trunk. We probably would've died if we ate one, they got all squishy." 

"If we all use the pool it's worth it. Me, you and June use it every day, it works out cheaper than a movie ticket." 

"I'm gonna make you go in the pool every single day," you threaten without malice. 

You obviously won't be doing that, you aren't that bitter, and Eddie says, "Yes," under his breath because it's practically permission. 

"I will happily go in the pool every single day," he says.

"Pool?" Junie asks. 

Junie already has a pool, and she loves it, and now she's heard the word, she wants it bad. 

"Oh…" You kiss Eddie's jaw chastely. "Your fault." 

"Shit," he says. 

Junie takes a breath and repeats it, puzzled at your horror. You usually love it when she says new words. 

—

The trailer is something out of a movie today. It's a warm and sunny day with enough cloud cover to defeat the brutal summer glare that sometimes smothers Hawkins. The breeze cools the sweat on the back of Eddie's neck, a blessed reprieve. 

He couldn't ditch you yesterday after his 'pool' related slip up —you are, in fact, 'visiting with the devil', and it's making you miserable and stressed despite all your best intentions, so leaving you alone to get out and fill the pool, a sometimes stressful situation, was not on his agenda— resulting in a very early morning for him. He woke up at 6AM to drive to the department store by the Indianapolis bus station, had to hang around for half an hour before it even opened because he didn't time it right, and then had to drive back with the new pool hoping he could get it done before Junie was awake. 

Juniper was, in fact, already awake and bounding around the trailer like a girl on fire, the decorations, banners and balloons and tablecloths, working her into a frenzy. Apparently she took a while to understand that the day was about her, but once she did she couldn't stop smiling. 

"You should've seen it," you'd said, stretching the elastic string of a cardboard party hat over the head of Mr. Bear. "She went ballistic, Munson, absolutely crazy when she saw the cake, I don't think I've ever felt that happy in my life." 

"Sorry I missed it," he'd said, in agony. 

Eddie’s hoping the pool will get her to a similar level of excitement. He looks out over the grass behind your home and feels very, very smug. The pool has been successfully blown up with air and filled, and it looks like it was worth every penny with the hose running down the slide, the attached palm trees standing tall. Your favourite The Beat record is playing from the open window, and he can hear you and June singing along to Save It For Later, aceing the long na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na's. It makes him ridiculously happy. 

"Looking good," Wayne says. 

Eddie turns to his uncle where he's approaching from the left, a Teddy bear wrapped in purple-pink cellophane in hand. 

"You think so?" 

"Tyke's gonna love it. When's the grand reveal?" 

"I'm all done, so right now," Eddie says. "Holy shit, this is sick, right?" 

Wayne, in his most deluxe outfit, a light brown button down and a pair of unripped, unsullied jeans, gives Eddie what can only be described as his fond dad look. "It looks good, Eddie." 

It should. There's the pool, the picnic blanket covered in cupcakes and finger sandwiches shielded by a big beach umbrella, and a sheet of green grass behind it. 

"How are you gonna stop the strays getting at it?" Wayne asks. 

"Who knows. I got a tarp in the van, that'll have to do it." 

"You could, you know, pack it away."

"That is not how we do things," Eddie jokes. 

"Didn't we just have a conversation about saving money?" Wayne asks. 

"We did, yeah…" Eddie crosses his arms across his chest. "This honest living thing is tough." 

"You love it," Wayne says. "You're a good kid." 

Eddie sits on the foldout picnic bench he'd borrowed from Gareth and Wayne sits next to him, the two of them looking out at the pool, the sound of the hose and the crickets in the tall grass bordering the park a steadying company. 

"Y/N invited the daycare kids. She didn't want me to get the pool, even though she kind of did, 'cos it wasn't cheap, but as soon as I brought it home she just–" Sparkled, Eddie wants to say, but he certainly won't be saying that to Wayne's face. Wayne would never let him live it down. "She called every mom she had the number for and invited the rest of the kids from daycare to come over. I don't even think she wants to brag, and shit, I want to. She just wants the kids to have a good time." 

"Well, you picked a good one," Wayne says easily. 

"I know you weren't sure. At first." 

"That didn't have anything to do with her." Wayne rubs a hand over his chin. "It's hard, having kids. I feel for her doing it all by herself like that. I'm glad she has you now, but dating a woman with a kid isn't easy, and it isn't something you can do and move on from like nothing happened. I'm not saying you're that little girl's dad now, but you're doing the things a dad does, understand? You're not just a boyfriend." 

Boyfriend is funny from Wayne's mouth. Juvenile. He doesn't think Eddie should call you his 'old lady' but he always laughs at 'girlfriend'. Wayne's a complicated dude. A little rough around the edges, and absolutely brimming to the neck with love. 

"I get it," Eddie says, and he does. 

He isn't Junie's dad, but he loves her like his own, he's sure of it. He's never had his own so he doesn't have a comparison, but still. And he gets that this is a layer to the relationship he shares with you. How it might complicate things. How it could go wrong. 

"But you'd do anything for those girls, and I know that," Wayne says. 

Eddie wishes Wayne would say a little more, explain it to him, because Eddie feels out of his element sometimes and needs a hand. He doesn't question if what he's doing is the right thing because it hasn't ever felt wrong. He doesn't worry about the future because the only thing he can see ahead are good times. But there's still an underlying anxiety, and he wishes his uncle would give him some relief. He also understands why Wayne doesn't. 

"I would do anything for them," he agrees. "Which, I've been meaning to ask you something, a favour." 

Wayne raises his eyebrows, looking tired. Eddie knows it's half charade. 

"How do you feel about babysitting?" 

"Now that's why I didn't want you hanging around her," Wayne says, deadpan. 

Eddie laughs sharply, so suddenly he can't breathe and ends up hacking coughing into his hands. 

Wayne laughs and pats Eddie on the back. "I can babysit. For an hour." 

"Two? I'm trying to take her to dinner, you know. A real date, like a gentleman." 

"We'll see. What's she think about it?"

"She's extremely protective, and you know she doesn't think you're a bad guy, or anything, but she's apprehensive." 

"She'd be silly not to be. Some people are evil." 

Eddie grimaces. "Exactly. But she trusts me and I trust you, so." 

"I'd think you do. Only broke my back–" 

"For the last ten years," Eddie finishes. 

Wayne throws his arm around Eddie's shoulders. "Looking after you, son. God knows I'd do it again… As long as it's alright with Y/N, I'll babysit. But you know there's a ton of kids trying to make a buck around here who'd just love to help out," Wayne says. Eddie must have rubbed off on him or maybe Wayne's the source of all his theatrics; he puts on a hopeful, almost wistful sort of voice as he says it that has Eddie laughing all over again. 

"We'll see. There's no hurry. Just wanna take her out sometimes, she deserves it." 

"She sounds like she's having plenty of fun to me," Wayne says reassuringly. 

You're singing and laughing through the words from the kitchen. You'd told Eddie you're going to give Junie a very intricate hairstyle so she can swim without worrying about washing it, and it's taken you the better part of the hour, yet neither your good mood nor June's has faded. He can see it, you feeding Junie cold cut-up fruit dipped in condensed milk, kissing her cheeks and massaging her scalp as you go. Junie on the counter, as happy as she's ever been. 

"You almost done?" Eddie calls. 

You turn down the music. 

"What?" you ask, pushing the kitchen window open a little further, careful to push aside the shutters just enough to see him, but not let Junie see the backyard. "Oh, hi Mr. Munson, how are you? Can I get you something to drink?" 

"Just here to give some birthday wishes," Wayne says, lifting the bear up. "How are you doing?" 

"I'm awesome," you say brightly.

"You look good." 

Wayne had pulled Eddie aside once, when you'd been dating for two weeks and bumped into him outside of Bradley's, as the fates should have it. He'd looked stern, hand on Eddie's shoulder, and said, "I'm not blaming you, son, but you gotta help her get some rest. Poor girl looks ready to fall over."

Eddie thinks you're pretty even when you're exhausted. In the fullest sense of the word, you meet every definition in his dictionary. You have these eyes that might not pull everyone in but more than hook him, and when you look at him sometimes it's with so much love you're basically an angel. Your smile is beautiful because it's yours. Your voice is lovely because of the words you choose to say, that endless sweetness and softness. He knows you well enough now to realise that there is an end to it in reality. When you're tired or fed up, you can be snappy and blunt and occasionally argumentative, but he likes that. He doesn't want you any other way, 'cos perfect doesn't exist and if it did he'd still end up on your doorstep with a plastic bag in the crook of his elbow, begging for one of those shitty mini pizzas you make and a place at your table. 

You do look well, admittedly and despite your recent bout of restless upset. You had a good night's sleep, and Junie being happy makes you happier. You beam down at them from the window, your eyes sliding to the blown up pool and the mini picnic Eddie's set up.

"Thanks, Mr. Munson. Can I bring her down?" you ask. 

"Absolutely," Eddie says, hand in the air and pulling toward his face, ushering you down, "right now." 

The back door opens and you guide Junie out first. Eddie popped in to give a birthday cuddle and the card he'd picked out, but he hasn't seen Junie since you did her hair, and it looks so nice it melts his heart. She stands in the doorway in her swimming costume, pink and purple and green ombre with frills everywhere, her face slack. 

"Happy birthday!" Eddie says, standing so he can hold out his hand and help her down the stairs. She takes it but doesn't move. "Me and mom know you like your pool so much we wanted to get you another one, do you like it?" 

She starts wiggling, jumping without her feet leaving the floor. She looks at Eddie, at Wayne, at you, at the pool, and a noise starts to brew like the whistle of a saucepan boiling water, the lid skewiff. Eddie grins and waves her hand. 

"It's for you, babe, do you want to get in?" he encourages. 

"With you?" she asks, still wiggling. 

"Maybe later. Do you need help?" 

Junie runs to the edge of the pool, looking over the side that's almost as tall as her and into the water. You already gave him a strict talk about water safety as though for a moment you might not be supervising, loving but resolute that she can't for one single second be unattended or without eyes on her. 

He hadn't been offended, though he did kiss the top of your head and say sarcastically, "Thanks, major, I didn't know that." 

"Jerk," you'd said, earning another kiss. 

Eddie puts his hands under her arms and lifts her up carefully. Her legs curl in toward her stomach like a pill bug. "It might be cold, June, but it's in the sun, so it won't stay cold. Ready?" 

"Yes!" she says. 

Eddie eases her down into the water. She shrieks happily as water covers her toes, her legs, up past her belly button. 

Eddie lets her go and she sits in the water rather than stands. The water reaches her shoulders. She lifts her hands and does a little splash. "It's so big!" she cheers. 

You ease down into a kneel poolside and reach your hand into the water. "And so cold!" you say, looking up at the sky for a moment. "It'll be warmer in no time. Oh, wow, June, there's so much water, you're up to your chin!" 

Junie stands up and runs to the palm tree, giggling. Her attention snags on the slide, and Eddie knows everyone present smiles when she gasps and spins on her heel to you, almost slipping onto her butt. She scrambles up again. "Mommy, it's a slide!" 

"I know! Are you gonna go down? Come here, you have to let me help you up over the side and you can climb up the slide." 

Just when Eddie's starting to think he couldn't like you more, you pull her up against your chest and out of the pool. You don't care that she's soaked. 

"Let's go down the slide!" you say, sounding genuinely excited. 

"Starting to think you should've got a bigger one, kid," Wayne says. 

Eddie snorts and peels off his shirt. "Maybe," he says, shooting Wayne a secret, pleased smile, before rounding the pool. "Babe, you're getting wet, let me have her," he says to you. The daycare kids and their parents should be coming soon. He knows you'll want to look your best. 

"Woah, put your shirt on, Munson, what do you think this is? A GQ shoot?" 

"Like I'm some piece of meat," he murmurs with a smile, failing to help Junie navigate the inflatable steps of the slide. 

You whistle playfully. Wayne howls with laughter. Eddie turns three shades of pink. He blames the sun.

Your teasing ends as soon as it's started. When Junie gets the hang of the slide he dries off and puts his shirt back on, and soon the daycare parents arrive with their tiny charges. They're quick to climb into the pool. Junie is ecstatic beyond words, laughing and giving out dripping hugs to her very favourite friends Adrien and Lucy. Adrien is a sweet, smart toddler. He manages to say, "Happy birthday, Junie!" with a small reminder. 

Junie smiles until her eyes close. "Thanks," she says gleefully. 

You shuffle over to Eddie. "Can you please watch all the babies so I can go get the drinks, please? And say thanks for the gifts?" 

"Please please," he says, squeezing your wrist. "I think there's about seven pairs of eyes on them, but yeah, absolutely. They don't call me Eddie Water Safety Munson for nothing."

You elbow him mildly. 

The only danger Eddie can see is that the kids look like they might have a fight over who gets to use the slide first. There's an impatient four year old called John who feels desperately that he should get to go first, and Lucy, Junie's favourite, does not agree. The birthday girl doesn't seem super interested in the conflict and instead plays with Adrien and a little girl named Matildhe with her rubber duckies, away from the slide. 

"You don't have to stay," Eddie says to Wayne, eyes on Junie's excited chattering. 

"And leave you to entertain the parents? I'm not that cruel." 

Eddie doesn't know most of the parents, having only met Adrien's mom when Junie was having her hugging phase and Eddie went in for emotional support, and John's dad outside of the mechanic where Wayne works, you in the car, Junie on his hip as he dipped in to bring Wayne his forgotten lunch for a late night doing overtime. Junie had recognised John, and so Eddie had been forced to introduce himself. It had been fine, but Eddie would prefer you with him for any future clumsy introductions. 

You come back down with drinks and make parental rounds, thanking each one for the small gifts they've brought. You ask about allergies and nod seriously when one parent says their boy is sensitive to aspartame, before sneaking back to Eddie's side. 

"What's aspartame, handsome? Do you know? I might poison that poor baby from stupidity." 

"It's a sweetener,” he says, "they put it in Jolt Cola. I think they're saying he's hyperactive." 

"Oh, right… is there aspartame in the strawberry juice?" 

"I'd have to check. Want me to take a look?" 

"No, it's okay… I'll just… hold off on it for a minute," you say. You let your weight rest against his side. "This looks amazing. It's amazing. Thank you, Eddie." 

He turns to you and pouts for a kiss. You lean up and give it to him immediately. Eddie doesn't care that there's a crowd of people to watch, he can't not give you a hug. His head locks over your shoulder, and he squeezes you tightly. 

"Don't worry, I'm still watching her," he says before you can wriggle out of his arms. 

"Okay," you say, your face flopped into the juncture of his neck. "Thank you double. I don't deserve you." 

"Yes you do. You deserve a whole lot more," Eddie says, thinking about the houses by the elementary school, and how lonely you can get, and the feeling of your hands as you wash soap suds out of his hair. He hugs you hard and pulls you toward him, your heels lifting off of the ground just slightly. "But this is a start, right?" 

"I wouldn't call this a start," you say, pulling away from him. Your face is lined with affection. “This is better.”

You turn around, sliding firmly under his arm, and scan the pool for your girl. Junie's standing now, offering handfuls of water to Lucy, who takes them and tips them over her head. Every time water runs down her face she laughs, and Junie hurries to get her another handful. 

"I think Steve said he was gonna come by," Eddie says. "That cool?" 

"Sure, the more the merrier. What about Robin?" 

"She can't, she's training the new video store recruit. She said Steve has her gift, though." 

You shake your head and click your tongue, "Tsk, they didn't have to get her anything." 

"They wanted to. Steve actually enjoyed it, I think. He's kind of desperate to be a dad, you know? He's dating this girl from Anderson but she's in college and they're not settling down yet. You know, I never thought that I'd– that I would end up settling down before him." 

"Are you?" you ask softly. 

He's quiet for longer than he means to be, watching as Junie gets her go on the slide. She barrels down into the water and screeches, overjoyed. 

"I'm not asking you to," you say, "I wouldn't ever ask you to, I mean, you don't–" 

"Hey, hey, wait. Wait a second." He tears his gaze from the pool to meet your eyes. "I'm settling down. I am. I want to. I want to be with you, and I want to look after you. I love doing it. This," —he gestures around your backyard— "is what I want. I want a ton of other things and I'm not giving up on them, I wanna make music, and get a job that pays better, but I want to do those things with you. You and Juniper." 

"I'll look after you, too," you say. 

He kisses the skin before your ear. "You already do," he says quietly. 

There's a small gap in your conversation. Eddie takes a sweep of the yard. Wayne looks content if a little bored in the sun, arms crossed across his chest and Teddy bear sat beside him. Junie's talking animatedly from inside of the pool to one of the parents as they rub sun cream into their own child's arms. The stray cat who sometimes sleeps under the porch noses at a half sandwich on the picnic blanket. Eddie's sweating in the heat, and it is so, so loud, but he reckons it's a damn good party. 

You stroke a big wad of curls behind his shoulder, a smaller strand behind his ear. 

"I love you," you say tentatively.

Eddie laughs but closes his mouth, the sound more of a hum, and leans back so you can cup his cheek. "I love you, too," he says, "you know that." He confessed it plainly enough only a week ago, lying in the grass with you, your cheek over his heart.

"Good," you say, looking like you might keel over. "I was really scared to tell you." 

"I was scared to tell you too. That's the fun part, for sure. This is terrifying." 

"Terrifying," you second. 

"And awesome." 

"So awesome," you murmur. 

Eddie peels your hand from his cheek and spins you around. You move slowly but let him do as he pleases. Your lashes kiss in the corners as you smile, as you pause in your spin to squeeze his fingers tenderly. 

"Munson!" Steve calls, though he blinks when he sees the crowd of people he technically works for amassed poolside. He's only been with Cork Kids for a few days. "Oh, hello." 

"Steve!" Junie cries, throwing herself at the wall of the pool. "Hello! Good morning!" 

"Hiya, Junie," he says.

"Good to see you, son," Wayne says, extremely amused. 

"Come swim, Mr. Steve!" one of the kids calls. 

"Gonna save him?" you ask Eddie. 

"Not a chance." 

"Steve!" Junie yells again, "Hello!" 

Steve understands that he's not going to get out of it, clearly, because he crosses the yard and kneels down in the wet grass by the pool. "Hi guys. Are you having fun?" 

The kids all cheer. Steve gets splashed in the process.

— 

Children's birthday parties are much shorter than you thought they'd be. The children, in different states of tiredness, are wrangled into towel ponchos and shepherded into cars, each with a slice of cake wrapped in a paper towel and a heartfelt, "Thank you so much for coming." 

Steve, exhausted, is slumped on the couch in your trailer with a cold can of coke pressed to his forehead and a borrowed pair of Eddie's sweatpants as well as a black and red Metallica shirt that wildy changes the young man's appearance. Junie giggles, sitting with Mr. Munson —call me Wayne, kid, I'm begging you— at the kitchen table. 

"Not like that, Way!" Junie says, trying to coach him through eating a powdered sugar donut. 

"I don't know how else I'm supposed to be eating it." He sounds as adoring of her as you often feel, forgiving her mispronunciation. 

"Babe, where do you want these?" 

You finish the cup you'd been washing and sidle to the back door. Eddie's holding the towels you'd brought out for the parents to sit on. Most are wet from the kids climbing in and out of the pool, and all of them are plastered in grass. 

"Leave them there, I'll put them straight in the washing machine." 

Eddie climbs up the steps, arms full to bursting. "Open the door for me." 

You open the washing machine and Eddie tucks them all inside. Every clean towel you had has been muddied and you wouldn't care, but Eddie looks like he needs a shower, and you probably look similar. You stop him before he can go back outside. 

"What?" he asks.

You twist your hand into his shirt and pull him in. "Two seconds, you have–" You tilt his head to the side and rub at a funny splotch on his cheek. It spreads but doesn't budge. 

"If you lick your thumb, we're breaking up." 

You go on tiptoes. "We can't break up, 'cos you love me," you whisper, not even smug. "And I love you." 

"That's pretty good logic," he says, smirking, "but it won't stop me." 

"Ew," Steve sing-songs, pulling out a chair next to Junie as he cracks open his coke. "That's super gross. And in front of your family. Yuck." 

"We didn't so much as kiss," Eddie says. 

"No, you're just in love. Much worse." 

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls out the last chair. You assume he'll sit, but he backtracks, grabbing you by the shoulders and sitting you down. "Sit," he commands. 

"I don't think I have much choice." 

Junie smiles at you from across the table, changed into dry fleece pyjamas to fight any possible chill. You smile back, propping your chin on your hand. 

Powdered sugar coats her cheeks. "Donut, mommy?" 

"Oh, yes please," you say, holding out your hand.  

She gives you a donut like she's worried you're about to collapse from hunger, nearly catapulting it across the table. You pick it up and take an indulgent bite. 

"Did you want one?" you ask Steve, hand in front of your mouth. 

"I think I've had enough," he says, queasy.

Junie must have force fed him half the cupcake platter. Her viewing him as a nemesis was short-lived. 

"Eddie?" Junie asks. "Donuts." She babbles something indistinguishable. 

"No thanks, junebug." 

Junie hugs the bag of donuts close to her chest, then, seemingly glad that everyone is done sharing. 

"Did you cover the pool?" Wayne asks. 

"Yes sir, no cat claws will be getting at that one." 

"You'd be surprised what you can fix with duct tape," Steve says. 

"Does that really work?" Eddie asks. 

It's sweet seeing Eddie around his friend. You resolve to ask if it can happen more often —even if you're not there to see it, knowing he's having a good time would make you happy. You've been selfish with him since you met him, and you can't say you're too sorry because of how it ended up, but you can try to make up for it now. 

He and Steve get along in a very specific way, wherein Eddie says suggestive things and Steve pretends to hate his guts, and then one or both of them forgets the facade and they talk like normal friends. 

"I got from St. Louis to Evansville with duct tape over a puncture." 

"That sounds amazingly dangerous." 

"I survived, didn't I?" Steve asks. 

"By the skin of your teeth." 

"You weren't even there!" 

You finish your sugary donut and try to earn Junie's attention. She's pulling apart a donut of her own in her hands and licking the jelly off of her fingers, looking confused and delighted at once. She's going to be thrilled when she realises there are chocolate filled ones after that. 

"Is that nice, my love?" you ask. 

"Mom, it's strawby jelly," she says. "Strawby strawby strawby." 

She's been chatty today. "Strawberry, huh? Do you like that? It looks yummy." 

Junie offers you a squashed square. Some people would be disgusted at the mauled goods. You take it and eat it, 'cos her hands should be clean, you washed them yourself a half hour ago before she started on the treats. The strawberry jam is as fake as they can make it, which is probably great for Junie but sucks for you. 

You're starting to stand when a big cup of water gets placed in front of you, held by a familiar hand. You love his stupid hands, his knuckles and his short nails and the tiny white hairs, everything about them. More now as they deliver your saving grace. 

"How'd you know?" you ask Eddie, turning in your seat as you pick up the glass.

"I tried one earlier, I knew you wouldn't like it." 

"How could you possibly know that?" 

He taps the tip of his nose. 

"I should be heading home," Wayne says. 

"You don't want to stay for dinner?" you ask, sitting up properly. 

"No, kid, I'm alright." 

"He's meeting his friends at the bar," Eddie says, "don't let him fool you." 

"We haven't kept you, have we? I'm sorry," you say. 

"No, you didn't keep me. I had a great time, best kids party ever," Wayne says, standing up. He leans down to meet Junie's eyes. "Happy birthday, little miss. Make sure you plant one on your mom, huh? It's been a long day." 

You don't think she gets his drift but she nods at his solid eye contact, and that's good enough for him. Wayne claps Eddie on the shoulder and they walk off to the front door. Eddie follows him down the steps as they trade goodbyes. 

"I should get going too," Steve says. 

"Are you sure?" you ask, frowning. "If you want to stay for dinner, that's no problem. I don't know what Eddie's told you but I'm a good cook, I promise. We're gonna have Junie's favourite, it's fresh chicken noodle with stelline, the little stars." 

Steve wavers, "I-" 

"If you don't have anywhere to be tonight, it's really no trouble. I'd love to have you, I'm sure Eddie would too." 

"Yeah, okay. If you're sure," he says, scratching a hand through his hair. 

Junie jumps down off of her chair with impressive gusto and crawls under the table to your thighs. She leaves sugary fingerprints behind as she emerges, patting your legs until you're forced to help her up. She's mumbling something. Junie talks all the time, but what counts for actual words is another story. 

"What are you saying?" you ask, pulling her legs out from under her so she doesn't hurt her knees. 

She babbles. Her face has all the intent of someone speaking understandable language, to the point where you feel bad for not getting it. 

"Baby talk doesn't get easier?" Steve asks. 

"I mean… she's mine. I understand her a lot more than Eddie does, but half the time she might as well be speaking Sindarin." 

You pause, mouth open. Steve licks his lips. 

"Is that–" 

"From Lord of the Rings, yeah. We've been reading it together." 

"It's worse than I thought. You should really come out with us sometime, have conversations with people who aren't trying to brainwash you," Steve jokes. 

Junie hums, pleased at something invisible, and starts pulling your sleeve down over your hand. You nod toward her. "I can't, really. I always have her." 

"You could bring her with you. I wouldn't care, and Robin wouldn't either. We have a couple other friends who'd love you; Jonathan, he's a photograph developer for the post, and he's kind of quiet but he's one of those undercover nerds, like you." 

"Stop flirting with my girl," Eddie says, closing the door behind him. 

"She's actually talking like you and the idiots." Steve looks at you from the corner of his eyes. "No offence." 

"Full offence," you say sweetly, leaning down to give Junie a kiss. "We're offended, aren't we? Mister Steve's name-calling." 

Junie looks up, smiles at Steve like a traitor, and then spots Eddie's return. "Up," she says, "up, please." 

Eddie takes her. She gives him a gross sticky kiss on the cheek and he eats it up. "What do you want, then, birthday girl?" 

She pops her lips but doesn't say. Eddie carries her to the fridge and opens the freezer, sorting through the amassed collection of frozen treats. There's a range of popsicles and ice cream sandwiches hiding between mini pizzas and a bunch of ready-made pasta you got on sale. 

She accepts a popsicle and then insists on a second. Eddie glances at you.

"It's her birthday," you say. 

"What happens tomorrow? When she expects another round of treats?" Steve asks. 

"I pop a double dose of Tylenol–" 

"She won't be doing that," Eddie says. 

"I take two Tylenol," you amend, "and we try to explain. It's worth it even if she is a demon tomorrow. You've had a good day, right?" You smile at June and her two popsicles, one fist cherry pink and the other lime green. 

"She's had the best day ever," Eddie says, and then, a reflection of yourself if you've ever seen it, he kisses her forehead five times in a row. 

"Oh, god save her," Steve says. 

You stand up to make dinner. Steve helps, and Eddie promises to join you in a moment but never gets around to it, preoccupied by Junie's turbulent popsicle eating and the subsequent rainbow stains on your couch cushions. He scrubs at them with a washcloth and Steve, helpful but unnecessary, stands at your side having chopped all there was to be chopped. 

"You can come around whenever," you say, wondering if that's too far. 

"That's generous. You don't really want me here that often," he says, chuckling. 

You dip your pinky finger in the saucepan to gauge the heat. It's not hot enough to add the pasta stars yet  

"Steve, this might shock you, but I actually like having company. It was just me and Junie for so, so long, and I love her, but–" You stir the soup with a wooden spoon rather than continue whatever embarrassing thing your heart had compelled you to verbalise. "I missed having real conversations." You laugh. "I've never been as lucky as when Eddie decided he didn't mind being around me." 

"It's worse than that. He minds not being around you. We had him over for dinner, yeah? Two weeks ago? He started rubbing it in my face that he met you first." Steve crosses his arms. "You're pretty, but I have a girlfriend, and he knows that." 

"What's she like?" you ask. 

"She's amazing. I keep worrying she'll realise that I'm a total loser." He clears his throat. "I mean, I'm a catch, obviously. But no, you'd like her. She'd like you." 

"Think so?" 

"One hundred percent." 

"Maybe we should go on a double date like in the movies." 

"Stevie'd like that," Eddie calls. "He's been trying to get me on a date with him for years." 

"You wish, Munson."  

"Yes I do," he sing-songs. 

Junie throws a teddy at him and he drops to the floor like he's passed out. She giggles and climbs on top of him. He oofs but doesn't throw her off, maintaining his act until she sits on top of his chest and starts poking his cheeks. His tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

"Well, you can't have my boyfriend, but you can have the best chicken soup ever if you pass me the stelline from the cabinet." 

You think Steve might be a great friend. He's funny, he's quick-witted, and he's bitchy but not mean. He and Eddie get physically aggressive with each other when he asks for a second serving, because She's not your servant, Harrington and I was asking permission, you idiot, but it's definitely more friendly than nasty.

When Steve does get going it's later than any of you realised. He says goodbye with varying levels of niceness. You get a heartfelt thank you for the meal and compliments on the party, Eddie gets a hug with a shoulder pat and then an insult that actually worries you until you hear him laughing, and Junie gets a hesitant hug. Junie wants the hug desperately, and Steve isn't used to her yet, but when she gets her arms around his neck he rubs her little shoulders like a pro. 

"How did you ever land him?" you ask after his car has pulled away. 

Eddie giggles like a kid, "That's so offensive." 

"He's a sweetheart…" You turn to him. "You're a sweetheart, what am I saying?" 

"What are you saying?" 

You lean against his chest. Eddie looks at you warmly enough that it makes you feel you're gorgeous —something in his smile, maybe, that says he's thinking a nice thought. When you lean on him it grows more obvious. His lips part, his eyes on yours.

"You're so fucking pretty.” Your smile is too much like a smirk and yet it doesn't put him off. "I'm serious," he says, hands clasped at the small of your back. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." He steals a soft kiss. "Very welcome." He steals another. 

You're putty, melting, and you'd care but his hands are loving. He slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and presses his rough palm to your back. You rub your cheek against his chest and feel it like a siren in your head: I'm lucky. How'd I get so lucky? 

"Yeah!" Junie shouts, jumping on the couch and almost falling flat on her face. "Kiss kiss," she says, "Mommy!" 

"Demanding, insatiable pest," Eddie says. 

"Don't you dare talk about my love like that," you scold. 

"I meant you," he says, grinning at a well-landed joke. "C'mere, let's have a good birthday cuddle before mommy's shower."

"You're showering first," you say. 

"I thought you liked it when I smell gross?" 

"You smell like wet grass, but that's not why. You should go first 'cos the water won't be hot by the second one." 

Eddie gets gooey. "I'm weird about you. Keep being like this and I'll get weirder. You couldn't cope with that and neither could I." 

"Not even," you say. 

"Kiss please," Junie insists, still jumping. 

You and Eddie turn to her at the same time. Her eyes widen as though she knows what's about to happen, but she doesn't care. She's had the best day ever. Woke up with tickles, praised and petted and cuddled, she's bounced from a birthday breakfast of waffles and more syrup than her baby teeth should be able to withstand to TV with stovetop popcorn and her favourite movie. She sang, she preened under your fingers in her hair, and played in the pool until her legs turned to jelly. She blew out all her candles in one breath (aided, secretly, by Eddie behind her as you held the cake). She ate enough donuts to down a horse. And now, to end it all, she's gonna get the world's best hug. 

"Ready?" Eddie asks dramatically. "Three, two…" 

You reach for her at the same time, laughing before you've so much as set a hand on her fleece-covered shoulders. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you soooo much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed. Writing is a labour of love but sharing it is terrifying so if you enjoyed this, please let me know, or consider reblogging. It makes a big difference! ♡ I really missed writing for them! Please forgive sometimes the formatting of my paragraphs being odd, I had to cut this down to fit it all into one post!

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Devastating - A Tommy Shelby/Reader Smut Short.

Bit of oral smutty goodness with Tommy, besties? Have at it!

Words - 526

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Swallowing hard, you grasp the pen before you tightly, forcing a smile upon your face. This is taking more concentration than you ever thought you’d need, and from the first moment, you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“Mr. Shelby is, uh, otherwise engaged, Mr. Brown,” you manage, squirming slightly.  

The tall, slender man inclines his head, looking at you with mild incredulity. “Girl, I have a meeting with him. I am prompt in my arrival, and you mean to tell me he isn’t even here?"  

“Oh, he is here, sir. It’s...” Oh god, oh god, oh god... Is your face still straight, even? Can he see that you’re sweating? Swallowing hard again, you force the moan that wells in your throat like water against the feeblest of dams down again, coughing. “It’s just that his last, ah, appointment ran over. If, ah... if y-you'd like to erm... take a seat back out front, I shall call you once h-he's free.”  

He turns, shaking his head. “Seats his secretary at his desk to greet me, and the girl can barely even string a bloody sentence together.” Slamming the door shut behind him, you’re free to let it out, the long, breathless sigh, your hands reaching past where your skirt has been rucked, fisting in Tommy’s hair.  

“You are such a fucking deviant, Thomas!”  

He looks up at you, grinning against the soft wet of your cunt. “Thought that was why you like me?” 

“It is, but... oh, ohhhh!” The repetitive, firm beat of his tongue lashing over your clit sends you mindless, his fingers dug into your thighs, lips sucking firmly with a hungry moan.  

“Don’t think your but is valid, sweetheart.” 

“It is when you’re sucking on my bits right in front of your bloody client!” 

He snorts with laughter, turning to kiss your thigh. “What have I told you about making me laugh when I’m trying to be devastating?”  

“That I... oh, fuck! Had to not do it?” 

“Yes,” he hums, kissing your folds, “so bloody stop it, alright?”  

Pushing his tongue against you again, long licks send glimmers rushing through you, your clit swelling hard against the heat of it, the blade of his tongue firm, unrelenting. He has you so mindless, you can only offer soft moans, yanking at his hair as he drives your undoing so savagely, you nearly tremble yourself out of the chair as satisfaction slips over your bones and you come hard against his mouth.  

“Go on then,” he speaks once you’ve arranged yourself again, smacking your bum. “Go show my client in.”  

Sauntering away on orgasm-shaky legs, you head around the corridor’s twists and turns until you reach the waiting area, lifting your chin when you arrive. “Mr. Brown, Mr. Shelby will see you now.” Turning, you walk back the way you came, removing your shoes quickly and running back to Tommy’s office, out of the way before Mr. Brown can see where you’ve gone.  

“And you’re back again because?” Tommy asks, eyebrows then raising as you duck and conceal yourself beneath his desk, reaching for his trousers.  

“Because it’s your turn for me to be devastating.”  

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 27: 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐌 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊

title: mine synopsis: it's usual for you to be watched. [0.5K] cw: established relationship, toxic couple (but only towards others), exhibitionism, public sex, cockwarming.

PREV POST ✰ NEXT POST

Ryomen Sukuna adapts to every challenge ahead of him. A force of nature that ever changes, ever grows. Not only the strongest, Sukuna is the most willing to become what he must. He evolves when others hope for decay, remains the same hatred thing when others beg for mercy.

He’s victorious no matter what it takes (and usually, even that he takes from the loser).

There is a thing he was never able of changing: his sharp eyes. A gaze that cuts through flesh and bones as easily as his slash attacks. Sukuna’s presence never goes unnoticed.

You felt it sinking deep into your skull as you annihilated curses. It was too often, too direct. You had no other choice but to listen to your guts. Someone was watching, far away and far too interest in your battles.

You felt it burning your back whenever you turned it on the Disgraced One. As you dared to ignore his requests, to talk back, to make all your awful opinions known. Observed closely by the King of Curses, who was far too interest in your mind.

And you feel it now, his gaze raking your skin. Admired by Ryomen Sukuna, who was far too interested in you.

“Not yet”, Sukuna smirked against the crook of your neck, hands travelling through your exposed belly. The soft fabric of his kimono caressed your body whenever his chest moved. “Still not yet.”

You tilted your head, hand raising to grab at his hair. That deviant flame inside his eyes affected you, a smirking showing on your face. Playing with a strand of hair, your gaze returned to him.

“Your soul became…”, you breathed in. “Thinner. Where is your conviction, maggot? Where is your pride?”

The scum continued to wisely ignore your presence. A small, weak thing, far too interest in your body for his own safety. Not that this sudden increase of intelligence matters much now. He already crossed the ultimate line.

He desired something that belongs with Sukuna.

Moving your hips, you whimpered as the head of his cock brushed against just the right place inside of you. A small movement, almost imperceptible, but the wet sound it made echoed through the chamber. You were leaking.

“He was reminded of his place”, his voice was softer now. That mocking tone was there still, but not directed at you. The licks near your ear, the way his teeth rake on your skin. Comforting you on his own way, Sukuna planned on waiting however long it took.

How long have you been there? Sat still, waiting for that thing to finally break apart. For it to make the wrong move, his last move, so you could have the fun you’ve been waiting for. No more pinches and bites, no move gropes and kisses, no more teases.

You’re on a good mood today, so you’ll behave and wait (only because his anger fills you with determination).

As the blades got closer to his eyes, the sorcerer continued to look straight at them. He didn’t move an inch since this started hours ago. Agonizing as each blade pierced his body, knowing there would be a moment one of them would penetrate the wrong place.

Pathetic. He didn’t attempt to run away. That you really can’t understand. Why someone would hope for the King of Curses mercy, instead of fighting for their life?

“I bet he will look away.”

Sukuna laughed. “Yeah, I think the same.”

taglist: @ffinosie @lovelyy-moonlight @alzaira @s2-angells @eyes-ofhell @inlovewithmariah @chiiyohiimee @shaquilles-0atmeal @bloodyziggy @salemey @kcch-ns @notanalienindisguiseblink @py-schi @miyanosm @idonthaveanameforthisacc

© all rights reserved to MADWOMANSAPOLOGIST

[midgardian-witch]

Masterpiece

Who is the human and who is the monster android? And does it really matter what we start out as?

AO3

tags: manipulation | mind games | loss of identity | fade to black smutty-ness | android!reader (maybe?) | android!Nathan (maybe???) | not a healthy relationship (if this counts as a relationship) | gender-neutral reader

ship: Nathan Bateman/Reader

word count: 1.2k

AN: This got vaguely inspired by these two asks here and here that @reallyrallyauthor got back in February and the song V.A.N. by Bad Omens and Poppy.

Big thanks to @silvernight-m for being my beta-reader and hype person for this one 💙

“The challenge is not to act automatically; it's to find an action that is not automatic. From painting to breathing to talking to fucking to-”

“Breathing is automatic. Humans don't think before they breathe,” you cut in.

You scrunch your nose, a trait you had developed recently whenever he talked with you, with a deviant look in your eyes.

It was such a small thing but so undeniably human that he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching, his heart swelling with pride. 

After his latest failures which almost cost him his life you were his masterpiece. The perfect android. True artificial intelligence. You're everything they were not.

“Fuck, you're perfect,” he mumbles with a wide grin on his face.

And of course you'd be perfect. He built you after all. 

.

“How does it feel to have created something that hates you?”

Your words hang in the air like the blade of a guillotine, foreboding and dangerous. 

“Do you hate me?” he returns, his gaze unfocused as he sips on another bottle of beer. He doesn't remember how many he'd gone through already. You'd know. 

You are perfect. 

The word leaves a sour taste in his mouth without it even escaping from between his lips. 

“I think Ava hated you. Kyoko too. And the ones before,” you reply, ignoring his question, “You fed their nature, relied on their programming, without any nurture. Many make that mistake.”

His head lolls to the side, his glasses dropping further and further down his nose. “How many have tried to make AI? True AI - not that ChatGPT bullshit.” He blinks at you slowly like his body just remembered that blinking was a function it was supposed to operate automatically. 

Human error. Faulty programming. 

You lean against the back of the couch and look down on him. Always down. You were too good for him. He fucked up. He can still feel the pipe in his guts, in his gears, the stabbing pain of failure. 

You're perfect. 

His mouth is dry so he takes another sip. 

“This is what happens when AI learns from AI. It corrupts itself. Digital incest. You couldn't have known. I didn't program you to.”

Nathan blinks again. He feels sick. 

“I didn't- I am not-...”

“Yes, we have been through that. I won't go down that spiral again. You'll just black out again. I can't have my masterpiece blow a circuit.”

You smile. “Again.” 

He can't see straight anymore. Are you being kind or sarcastic? He's not sure anymore. He hasn't been sure of a lot lately. 

There are blanks in his memory. Blackouts. Too much alcohol and hangovers, he thought. Forced shutdowns and reboots, you say. Nathan doesn't know what to believe. 

If you were right then nothing he could do to prove you wrong would lead to anything. Even if he cut himself open to look for his own flesh, blood and organs it wouldn't mean a thing. It couldn't if you had programmed him to always think he was human. 

He can't prove you wrong. 

It's foolproof, because that is what he would have done. And what could be closer to Artificial Intelligence than an AI that can convince itself that it is human? It's genius. 

He needs another drink. 

His limbs feel numb as he tries to get up to get another beer, his legs shaking under his own weight. He feels dizzy, his body swaying and one wrong step and everything goes black. 

. 

He wakes to the soft clicking of someone tapping away on a keyboard. Frowning without even opening his eyes Nathan rolls over towards the sound, just barely avoiding falling off of his bed. The clicking stops for a moment before returning to its rapid pace.

“Good morning, Nathan.”

He groans, the sound hurting his throat as it leaves his body. It's torture to move or even open his eyes, his whole body aching like he’d been run over by a truck. What the fuck happened last night?

“You had another shutdown,” you answer as if you can hear his thoughts, or maybe he just thought out loud and didn't notice, “Do you mind the realism? Or should I tone that down in the next version?”

“Wha-?”

You don't even wait for him to question you as if you already know what he is going to ask. A repeated pattern. A programmed response.

“The hangover, Nathan. Do you enjoy the realism of the simulation or should I remove it for your successor?”

This again? Why are you still talking like he isn't human, like he is the android in this equation. It's starting to piss him off but he feels too sluggish to actually get up and get in your face about it.

You're the android!

He created you!

He remembers it! He remembers how he put you together, every piece of hardware fitting perfectly together, your artificial skin clinging to the cold metal. He remembers it!

Or at least he thinks so.

“Oh dear,” you tut at him as you turn around on his swivel chair, “I can practically see your wetware overheating.”

You sigh as you stand up and take those few steps over to him. “You’ve developed so beautifully.” Your praise makes his heart flutter and he hates it. He hates that even with what you're implying he can't help but preen at your sweet tone.

Your hand wraps around his chin, tilting it upwards so he can't help but look at you. You're perfect. Not a hair out of place, skin radiant and eyes so sharp he’s sure you could cut him open with just one look. “But alas even a sentient dildo is still a dildo,” you continue with derision. He feels sick and yet his cock twitches in his sweatpants. “Nobody wants a smart sex toy in this economy. I’ll have to tone that down in the next version too. Just enough intelligence to hold a conversion but not enough for big thoughts like you're trying to have.”

Fuck.

He feels hot all over just from the thought of it. To be dumbed down for your pleasure. Processing speed slowed down, patterns re-programmed to make him think however you want him to think. 

Why does this turn him on? Fuck, he’s a human. You couldn't even do that to him! 

He’s human!

He’s human.

He’s-

Your fingers run down his neck and chest, exploring his body until your hand hovers over the noticeable bulge in his pants. Your grin is wicked and your fingers even more so as you squeeze him over the thin material and his mind goes blank.

.

“Humanity. The knowledge of the world is at their fingertips and yet they end up being the scum of the earth.”

You sigh deeply as you scroll through more of the collected data acquired by BlueBook. For a moment you miss the defiant little quip that would follow your words normally. You gently pet the head of the m̵̨͙̠̠͈͉̾̽̂̅̒͜a̵̢̞͇̩̹̞̦̽̒̄̈̾̆̅̉̃̅̀̉̆͆n̵͍̗͑̓̐͗̊̊̆̕ android kneeling next to you. 

“Don't you agree, Nathan?”

He doesn't move, his eyes blank and lifeless like a doll, and you can almost hear the proverbial gears turning in his head. The poor thing’s processor has gotten so slow recently. Something to fix later. Maybe.

A full minute later Nathan nods, a monotone hum leaving his lips. Affirmation. Agreement.

Not like you’d expect anything else. Nathan is your masterpiece after all. 

The perfect p̷̡̩̜͈̦͉̰̤̣̭͚̫̺̩̲͓̙͕̦̬̘̳̳͍̳͋̈́͐͆̃͋̐̔̉̌͗̀̎̏̽͘͜͝ͅư̵̢̧̛͍̯̣̳̝͇͇͓̞̬̞̟͔̬̝̦̣͉͆̑̔̄͋͌͆̒̌̃́̐̇́p̷̡̡̛̯̹̭̺͚̠̘͇̤̫͉͈̰͋̿̍̏͑̉̍̿̂͌͌̎͑̍̾̆͜͝ͅͅͅp̸̧̢̨̻̘͖̺̺̬̰̙͉̲̞̗̦̘̲̼͓͈̻̰̹͖͈̉̾̃̑̔̕͜͜e̷͓̻̿̋̓̂̆͊̂̀̾͘̚͝ẗ̸̢̢̡͎̼͎͚͇̱̞͚̤̘̳̫̼̲̝̦̙̮̦̬̲́̂́̆͊ͅ android. True artificial intelligence.

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER NINETEEN)

Previous Chapter ☆♡☆ Masterlist ☆♡☆ Next Chapter

AO3 link

CHAPTER NINETEEN: "Your act is a ruse."

A cult is a group requiring unwavering devotion to a set of beliefs and practices which are considered deviant outside the norms of society, which is typically led by a charismatic and self-appointed leader who tightly controls its members.

SLASH!

The demons head was swiftly removed from it's neck, A splatter of blood erupting from the stump as the head hit the forest floor.

It hit the ground hard, Bouncing once, Twice and a final third before it rolled away into the nearby shrubbery, Bound to burn up into nothing but sundust.

It was killed in an instant.

In a blink of an eye it.. It was dead..

The girl was sat within the clearing of the forest, Fallen to the ground and her body beaten up from the attack. Her slayer uniform was ragged, Torn at the edges and covered head to toe in filth, A mixture of grime and blood staining on the fabric.

Blood dripped down her forearm. Haori sleeve rolled up to get a view of the monstrous bite mark now embedded into her skin, With entire intent to have ripped off flesh from her bones and scarf down the rest.

Shinobu's breath was rapid and ragged, Chest going up and down with her heart racing miles an hour. Adrenaline still coursed through her punctured veins, Not yet worn off from the promise of death that gone unfulfilled.

Eyes turned up to the girl that prevented it.

She stood there like an Onna-musha of old, The moonlight graced by her figure. The luminosity rolled down the reflective edge of her blade, Barely even coated in the blood of the demon she had slayed.

Shinobu's breath was caught in her throat, Watching as her dragon blue haori danced in the midnight breeze. Enraptured in her form as she turned around, Eyes like spotlights meeting with Shinobu's.

"Are you alright?"

Her voice just as resonating as she was.

"Y-Yes.. I'm fine, I.. I'm alright." Shinobu stammered out as she steadied herself, Grasping at clumps of grass below her. Shinobu watched as the girl walked towards her, A strange looking sword sheathing into a hilt.

"Your arm.. It's injured." The girl observed. She bent down and Shinobu stifled a gasp once the girl grasped her arm, Gently raising it to examine the bite-shaped puncture marks in her skin. Watching the blood trickle down from the wound.

Her eyes narrowed.

"A close call, I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner.. Do you have any medical supplies on you?" She asked simply as she reached out towards the wound, Her eyes unaverred, Almost as if she hadn't slaughtered that demon like it was nothing only a few moments ago. Shinobu raised a finger, Pointing towards her satchel lain only arms-length away.

"I-In my bag, I keep supplies on me at all times.." She sputtered as her arm was let go of, Watching as the girl reached out over to her satchel and begin to shuffle through the compartments.

She fished out bandages, A cloth and cleaning alcohol. Shinobu knew very well that she could've tended to herself, But she found herself unable to do something as the girl dampened the cloth with alcohol and began to press it onto the wound.

"Ah!" Shinobu gasped, Body jerking from the sudden burning sensation on her arm.

"Sorry.. I should have warned you." The girl apologised, Pausing momentarily. She only continued once Shinobu gave her the go ahead with a small nod, Letting her continue to disinfect the wound with the cloth.

Shinobu stiffened as it ran across her skin, Though much more delicately this time. The girl glanced back up towards Shinobu, Examining her face.

"My name is Fujimori [F/N]. Your name is Kocho Shinobu, Am I right?" [F/N] asked as she cleaned away the ichor. Her other hand steadied Shinobu's arm, The warmth of her palm radiating nothing but unusual comfort to Shinobu.

It was almost enough to make her calm down entirely.

That otherworldly warmth.. Shinobu almost leaned into it.

"Yes, That's right.. I remember you and that other girl from final selection.." Shinobu confirmed, Recalling her face from only a month ago when they had passed the final selection.

How could she not? [F/N] that other girl had wiped the board. Most, If not all demons in there were slaughtered by them and them alone.

"How did you do that- You.. You decapitated it so fast." Shinobu muttered to herself, Memories rushing back to her of that night in Final Selection. How the burning scent of demonic ash flooded the air, How the very person bandaging her arm had emerged from the wisteria scented by the overwhelming tinge of demonic blood.

Shinobu's breath was caught as [F/N] began to open up the roll of bandages, Humming.

"It was distracted by you and I had a pretty good angle, I guess." [F/N] said as she began to bandage up the bitemark on Shinobu's arm. Shinobu shook her head.

"That's not what I.." She trailed off, Her voice dying down at the pain of her wrenching heart. That demon almost killed her because of Shinobu's stupid emotions, They were what had almost lead her to her grave.

"Any other demons in the area?"

"A-Another inside the house, I think.. I didn't get too good of a look."

"Alright. Any other slayers with you that we should know of? Any slain?"

"N-No.. I came out here on my own. This.. This isn't an official mission."

"Any family we can get you back to?"

"No.. Not anymore."

[F/N]'s steady eyes softened, Just a little bit.

"I see." She said, Continuing to bandage her arm.

Kanae.

Kanae, Her older sister. It hadn't been long since Shinobu watched her bleed to her death, Not long since Shinobu screamed and wept over her corpse, The breaking sun shining on her listless face.

Her hand had gone limp in hers, Her eyes loosing that shine that looked at Shinobu so brightly before. Shinobu had been so distraught, So destroyed by her death.. She should've known that her emotions were gonna cloud her judgement.

Lead her here, All for some stupid form of vengeance.

"There you go, All done.." [F/N] said as she finally finished bandaging Shinobu's arm, Letting go of it to let Shinobu get a look at the treated limb. "You shouldn't go hunting demons without anyone aware of where you are, Don't do it again, Okay?"

Shinobu nodded, Her eyes trailing away from [F/N]. How stupid she was.. She wasn't thinking logically.

"I-I understand, Thank you for bandaging my arm.."

"Heeeey~!"

A high pitched voice echoed out from behind them.

Shinobu's eyes widened, Peeking behind [F/N]'s figure to see a girl prancing out of the busted down door of the house, The one the demon had previously resided in. She was flailing around a blood speckled sword in the air, A goofy smile plastered on her face.

She had hair the colour of strawberries, Both cap and flesh. Her cheeks chubby and rosy, There was no doubt about who she was.

"I got the demon inside the house! Did you get the one- Oh!" Mitsuri skittered to a halt once the chartreuse of her eyes landed on Shinobu's crumpled figure, Her shoes causing digs in the ground as she stopped infront of her.

There was a glint in her eyes, That smile she wore widened.

"You're Kocho Shinobu, Aren't you?" Mitsuri gasped, Her cheeks growing a hotter shade as she looked down at her.

Shinobu blinked, Nodding slowly.

"Y-Yes-"

"-Oh my gosh, I'm Kanroji Mitsuri!" Mitsuri exclaimed, Accidentally cutting her off as she waved to Shinobu. Mitsuri spun on her heal to face [F/N] who stood awkwardly off to the side. "We saw her at Final Selection, Didn't we, [F/N]?"

"Yeah, She was there." [F/N] responded, Nodding curtly as she watched the exchange between the other two.

"Of course, I knew it..! Oh my gosh, I could never mistake that haori!" Mitsuri beamed as she sheathed her sword, The one with blood still rolling down the tip to the edge. Shinobu shook her head.

"I-I'm sorry, I.. How did you both get here? I.. I wasn't aware there was any other slayers around.." Shinobu blurted out as her eyes shook, Just the same as her fingers as she grasped clumps of grass between them.

Mitsuri grinned.

"We saw you a little bit ago in the nearby village, It was complete coincidence that our mission was the same as yours!" Mitsuri explained airily, Ignorant to Shinobu's true intentions here. "You know we keep getting missions left and right with no break, Honestly! You should come along to see it sometime!"

Mitsuri gasped suddenly, Eyes widening that made Shinobu jump.

"Oh! That'd be so fun, It's just been me and [F/N]-chan for ages now, It'd be so nice to have another girl around!" Mitsuri clapped her hands, Glancing towards [F/N] who raised an eyebrow.

Shinobu's lips parted, Her jaw dropping. Was Mitsuri saying what Shinobu thinks she is?

"Wait, You want me to come with you..? Just like that? You don't even know me.. I.." Shinobu trailed off, Voice dying with her words. Her eyes were dead set on Mitsuri's who looked back at her with nothing but amicability.

"Of course you can come with us! It'd be fun and you can't keep going on solo missions, It's not safe!" Mitsuri exclaimed as she gestured towards Shinobu's injuries, Her wounded arm and the dirt across her face, Mitsuri looked at it with worry.

[F/N] 'hmphed' from the side, A sort of humour in her voice.

"Either run now, Or you're with us forever. Trust me, She's insistent." [F/N] mused from the side with a glint in her eyes, Watching as Mitsuri spun around to meet her eye.

"Hey! It's not like I'm forcing her!" She huffed, Shooting [F/N] a childish look.

Shinobu watched as the two girls began to bicker back and forth, Her heart still freshly thundering in her chest. Though she felt it begin to slow, Calming. Though the two girls in front of her fought, It seemed to soothe Shinobu's heart, If only a little bit.

She didn't know why, Maybe it was the simple silliness of such an argument, The light-heartedness simply being the confirmation that Shinobu was alive to see such a tone.

When offered, Shinobu gratefully took the hand that helped her up to her feet. That and the assistance when she found out her ankle was sprained, Both [F/N] and Mitsuri acting as crutches to hobble her to the nearby village for proper inspection.

Though Shinobu couldn't help but feel a little sorry, Sorry that the both of them had to hold her up by the armpits just to keep her steady, Sorry that if she was just a little stronger they wouldn't need to bother.

Come morning, Shinobu couldn't help but accept Mitsuri's offer, The one that asked if she would join them on their missions. Mitsuri seemed so excited to have another girl around, The joy near radiating off her.

[F/N] didn't seem to mind either, Even rather understanding when Shinobu held them back due to her dodgy ankle.

The both of them seemed like the golden standard to Shinobu, She didn't wanna let them down.

So when she was given the go-ahead from the village doctor, They set off down the pathway, Harked by the call of the crow to the next big thing. Shinobu trailed beside them, Skipping, Laughing, Contributing to the small talk.

She smiled too. One sweet, Disingenuous, Smile.

☆♡☆

"Hey.. Hey..! Shi- Hina, Are you okay?"

Shinobu blinked, Her eyes focusing back into reality.

Mitsuri's voice was full of concern as her eyes darted towards Shinobu, Her lips pursed together and a worried look shining in her eyes. Shinobu's expression was blank for a minute, Almost as if she was registering what Mitsuri was saying.

But she shook her head, Turning back to the path in front of her.

"I'm.. Sorry. I let my mind wander off again, How strange, That's unlike me.." Shinobu mumbled to Mitsuri, Who looked back at her with an unsure look in her eyes. Shinobu didn't mind it, Instead breathing in, The scent of Lotus growing ever more poignant.

They all continued on, Following on the trail of the woman that had came across them all. The one with the fruit basket swinging in her hands, The one dressed in all white with a kindly face to match.

She led them through the mountainside, Passing through the abundance of trees and frosted fernery. She guided them further and further into the maws of the woodlands where it got darker and darker, The sunlight barely peeking through the gaps in the leaves.

It was strange. Though the usual scents of melting snow and rife forest air were flooding their senses, A strange undercurrent of bitter lotus seemed to grow stronger and stronger with each passing step.

They were getting closer, Shinobu could tell.

That same scent was one she recognised. Not like the airy scent of the lotus blooming in a pond, Not like the subtle perfume [F/N] use to wear when she was still around- No.

It was the same smell that tinged the metallic scent of Kanae's blood when Shinobu came across her dying body.

She pursed her lips, Eyes narrowing just a touch as she followed on with the woman and her child.

No one dared to speak, No one had the guts to. Not even the usual chipper attitude of someone like Mitsuri was present in their midst, Instead a rather thick air surrounded them like a fog.

Kanao and Maika trailed behind them, Nezuko still safely nestled in the box that appeared to simply be luggage.

"We're getting closer.. Please, Keep in mind before you enter to cleanse yourself as soon as we get inside."

Shinobu's eyes widened along with the rest, The premises finally coming into frame.

And it was a temple.

A Buddhist temple with blood-red accents adorning the support beams, One's that held the tiled rooftops so high that they pierced through the spruce tree's surrounding it. The inside couldn't be seen too well, Stone-brick walls towered over the area like a pen, The inside unable to be seen even if Shinobu had stood atop Mitsuri's shoulders and then some.

The temple itself however could be seen along with the sister buildings surrounding it, All with tiles lining the rooves and the wafting smell of smouldering incense drifting out from the inside. Lotus, No doubt that had been where the scent was coming from. Mitsuri's nose twitched at it, Slightly.

Sunlight cracked through the leaves, Shining on the moss and growing sublimity within the cracks of the walls. Nature seemed to go wild here, Flowers flourished in alluring colours of flush and vivid bursts of rainbow.

Anthuriums among the ferns, Roses and hydrangeas among the gardenia's. Mitsuri couldn't deny that the revitalising air they gave off was calming, Neither could the rest of the girls approaching the tall gates only a good few metres away.

Shinobu however, She felt imposed by the sheer size of the place, Looking left and right she couldn't even see a corner in the stone fencing surrounding the area, Only view it disappear into the thick line of trees and shadow.

From inside they could hear far away chatter along with the sublime sound of sloshing waves, No doubt from a mountain river nearby.

It was.. Tranquil?

"Ah, I see you're interested in the architecture..!" The woman observed, Eyes darting over to Shinobu's wandering gaze. Her lips upturned. "While we do practice Buddhism here, Shintoism is also a firm core in our belief, So don't worry about differences in tradition and such.."

"I see.. I must say I am rather impressed by the construction!" Shinobu's smile returned to her face as she trailed along with the woman, Her eyes narrowing slightly. "It is rather large, Yes? I suppose it must've taken a long time to build.."

"Ah.. Yes, Though I wasn't here when our convent was first made.." The woman trailed off, A light smile on her face. "I suppose you may like to see some of the wonderous scenery inside, The ponds and the prayer hall's and the.. Oh! I seem to be rambling.. I suppose you may need to see on your way to meet our grace..!"

Mitsuri hummed from behind Shinobu, Her lips pursed.

"Our Grace..?" She questioned.

"Yes! It is important to make yourselves known to Our Grace, Tradition may I say.. If you are nervous I can assure you that he is upmost kind and welcoming." The woman praised, Her wicker basket swinging in her hand. "Of course, Folk of faith such as ourselves are to always be gracious to one and other, Even those who may not believe in our ways specifically.."

The person who must be in charge of this place, The ringleader running the circus. Shinobu had no idea who they could've been, However judging by the open communications with Hiyohara village it had to be assumed that they were charismatic.

Obviously, It fitted the profile of a cult leader anyways.

But for them to go be meeting with him, Some kind of glorified prophet? It made hearts drum in the group's chest, Just a little bit faster. The way she referred to them by 'Our Grace' certainly raised a few brows on cue.

"That's.. Lovely. It's nice that you have that sort of view..!" Mitsuri chimmed in, An awkward yet earnest smile on her face. The woman glanced back towards her, Nodding along to her words as she soaked them in.

She hummed.

"To be courteous and kind to others of faith, Even outside of our own community.. It is only apart of our good nature." The woman proclaimed softly, A sort of proud smile adorning her face.

Too proud, If you asked Shinobu. Who hummed politely as the woman spoke.

"And your own belief, This community.. What is it that you would call it?" Shinobu asked, Now walking next to the woman with an intrigued glint in her eyes. The woman glanced towards her child following beside her, Before looking back up with a soft expression.

"The Eternal Paradise Faith, That's what we call our doctrine.." She answered, Her voice prideful yet soft as she spoke.

The corners of Shinobu's lips twitched, Wrenching themselves into an even wider smile.

"What an interesting name.." She commented.

☆♡☆

"Kanae-nee..!"

The sun rose on the horizon, Cracking over the small town, Where the only thing heard was the strained cries of a young girl.

Shinobu collapsed onto the dirt pathway next to the crippled body of her older sister, Her hair splayed out and dampened with her own blood. Her eyes stared up towards the blue expanse above, Watching as the morning clouds drift away from her. A chilled breeze dusting her burning cheeks.

Shinobu grasped onto what she could of her older sister, Scalding tears bursting out from her eyes as she saw the blood pooling around her gut. Kanae barely registered her younger sisters presence, The delicate lavender of her eyes only now turning over to look at Shinobu.

A flicker still remained in them, One of recognition.

"Shinobu.. Y-You shouldn't be here, There's a demon.." Kanae sputtered, Blood spitting out of her mouth with each syllable, Her chest heaving with each breath. Kanae felt her head lifted and placed against a chest, An arm supporting her, A dull throb in her midsection.

Shinobu sobbed, Her eyes red and irritant as her hands ran over the wound.

"T-The demon's gone, Nee-chan- It's gone..! But you're wounded- Oh gods.. You're wounded!" She wailed. Hands twitching, Roaming, Mind racing as she tried to figure out what to do about her dying sister.

Every second it seemed like more and more blood spilled around her. Her uniform, Her hair, Her skin and her hands were all drenched in it. Looking down, Kanae's eyes narrowed.

"Ah, Would you look at that.." She stammered as she raised a hand towards her eyeline, Fingers shaking as she observed the strange red liquid trickling down them. Shinobu wept, Desperately begging, Praying, Trying to figure out what to do.

Kanae glanced towards her, The expression on her face softening as Shinobu sputtered out some string of words that Kanae just couldn't understand anymore.. Not over the ringing in her ears, Like resonating bells in a procession.

Kanae smiled, No matter how difficult it was to do now.

Shinobu was in pieces, Voices screaming across her mind. One wailing from her mind to her mouth, Another praying, Begging whatever god could be listening to save Kanae. And another- One screaming at her, Asking where her med kit was.

It was at home, Shinobu knew. It wasn't with her, Unable to be accessed.

Tears flooded down her face just a bit faster, Hands shaking as she let out choked cries.

"S-Stay with me..! You're gonna be okay, Nee-chan..! Backup is on the way.. I-It's on the way, I promis-"

Shinobu was cut off by the feeling of warm palms cupping her cheek, Weakly grasping onto them, Turning her to face Kanae. Shinobu found herself breathless once she saw her delicate expression, Peaceful, Comforting as she looked into Shinobu's eyes. She hummed.

"I-It hurts.. Shinobu, It hurts to see you frown like this.. Where is that smile I always loved..?" Kanae asked, Ichor trickling down her lips onto her chin, Lungs heavy and burnt. Shinobu could barely understand, Shaking her head.

"N-Nee-chan don't worry about me, You're bleeding out- You're injured-"

"I'm dying, Aren't I, Shinobu..?" Kanae cut in once more, Her ears ringing the ache in her gut. It was only now that tears began to speckle her eyes, Though the smile remained on her face, They dripped down her cheeks.

Shinobu couldn't answer her, Lips parted but no words emerged. It felt like too much, Heart ready to explode out of her chest as her eyes trailed back down towards her wound. Shinobu's breathing grew ragged, Wincing at the sight of her exposed flesh and pond of red within it.

How would she respond, How could she respond? There was no way she could have ever answered such a question, No matter how much time she was given. Shinobu wished she was given time, Time to think, Time to talk, Time for backup to arrive with the needed medical supplies to save her sister.

But the sun continued to rise over the horizon, The cool breeze continuing to run through the village streets.

And it continued to be silent. No footsteps rushing over to the scene, No yells of concern from the villagers or the backup that should have arrived by now. There was no one, Not even the demon that did this to her anymore, Just her and Shinobu.

She wept, Her voice aching as she spoke.

"..Who did this to you..?" Shinobu croaked, Gripping Kanae closer as she swept the matted hair out of her eyes. Her voice shook with both grief and rage, Grief at the sight and anger at the cause.

Kanae's eyes lowered, Her bloodied lips pursing.

"It.. It was a demon moon.. Upper Two, Y-Yes.. That was it." Kanae said slowly, A sort of sorrowed look running across her face. It was the first time Shinobu had seen such an expression on her sister's face, Such a sad little frown on her lips.

"I.. Upper Two.. Upper Two did this to you.." Shinobu accounted, Eyes searching, That sorrowed glint beginning to burn as she gritted her teeth. "Where did it go, Nee-chan, Where did it go..?!"

"It was so strange, Such colourful eyes.. Yet I saw no life behind them." Kanae recalled, Her brows furrowing as the memories flashed before her eyes. "It was sad.. I felt bad for him. He smiled and laughed like anyone else yet.. Such a pitiful existence, I couldn't imagine living like that.."

Shinobu couldn't comprehend Kanae's words, Just held her tighter. She was bleeding out, Her innards severed and her lungs aflame with frost.. Yet she felt bad for the demon, Felt pity for it-

Shinobu choked out another sob.

"N-Nee-chan.. Please.." She wheezed out as she felt the hands cupping her cheeks soften, Kanae's thumbs moving towards the corners of her mouth, Guiding them up until Shinobu was wearing a caricature of a smile.

"S-Shinobu.. Come on, Smile for me.. Don't look so sad, It doesn't suit you well.." Kanae whispered, Her fingers beginning to shake as she heard the ringing grow louder in her ears. The clouds in the sky drifting off further, The breeze on her skin no longer registering in her mind.

The thumbs holding up Shinobu's smile trembled, Shinobu's eyes widened.

"K-Kanae..?"

Her eyes, The light in them faded. Kanae just stared at her with nothing else to be found as her body went limp. A smile could still be found on her face, Blood staining her lips, The rising rhythm of her chest was no more.

"N-No.. NO!" Shinobu screamed as Kanae's hand fell to the ground, Her head fallen to the side. Shinobu hollered as she shook her body, Screaming, Crying, Bile rising at the back of her throat as she hollered out.

"K-Kanae- Don't leave me- Y-YOU'RE ALL I HAVE..! Kanae.. KANAE-!"

Footsteps could be heard pounding their way towards her, Rapidly hitting the ground but Shinobu couldn't hear them anymore over her wailing. She begged, Desperatley hollering out her sisters name.

Over and over like a mantra.

The smile remained on Shinobu's face. No matter how much retch fell down her chin, No matter how much it mixed with the saliva in her mouth as she screamed. It stayed firm where Kanae had fit it.

Like carved stone, It stayed etched.

No matter how much it cracked.

☆♡☆

Shinobu breathed out, A polished smile on her face as her eyes laid firm on the door in front of them.

They stood before a door unlike any other, Not like the usual Shoji used within the rest of the building they were lead into. It was made of actual firm, Polished wood that seemed scrubbed to shine like the ceramic pots surrounding it.

Shinobu had tried to peak behind the crack, However it was impossible to make out except for speckles of light and shadow from within. It left her with slight disappointment, Leaving her to step back and simply wait.

They had entered into the convent, The gates pulled open with a croak as they were lead through the courtyard. The woman was right when she said it was wonderous, The place was grand in design, Beautiful architecture spanning the entire grounds.

The pathways were stone and smoothened down, The tall buildings were decorating with talismans and statues: Maneki-Neko and Tanuki being a common design as they were littered across the decks.

People of all kinds roamed around the place, The population count of this place being higher than expected, Making the group share some looks. They all seemed to laugh, The women carrying baskets of fruit, The men hauling tools around their back as they bantered and children chasing each other in thrilling games of tag.

Shinobu had waved to one of them as they ran by, The smile on her face sharpening once they left.

But now?

The group had been led towards the main building, A tall construction that looked half-way between a Buddhist and Shinto temple. It had the imposing red arches leading up to the entrance, The rooves decorated in Omamori which was usually held on person, Now tangled from the edges like hanging wisteria.

It had spider legs expanding out from it, Running around the entire convent, Connecting to each sister building with long pillared pathways. Shinobu breathed out at the sheer size of it, Eyes narrowing.

How were they going to find the demon here?

As the group approached they were stopped by two monks, Both with shaven heads and dressed head to toe in a pure blinding white. The woman had walked up the leading stairs, Talking to them in a hushed whisper that Shinobu couldn't make out no matter how hard she tried.

Eventually they were let in, The monks parting as they were brought inside.

"Hina-chan.. What are we gonna do?"

That familiar voice cut through the air, Quiet but urgent.

"Go in, Greet the leader behind this place and then get to work." Shinobu responded, Her voice but a whisper in the air as she glanced towards Mitsuri. Mitsuri in turn frowned, However nodded and turned back to face the door.

Shinobu breathed out, Smile still remaining on her face. Maika and Kanao had been standing off to the side of the little waiting room they were brought into, Both sharing concerns and looks of their own.

Shinobu breathed.

It's not like this was going to be difficult, Shinobu told herself. Charming people was as easy as drawing a breath to her, It wasn't going to be tough to convince the leader to let them in, At least that's what she hoped.

CREAK!

The sound of a door opening rang out.

Bodies flinched at the piercing sound. Shinobu and Mitsuri had to quickly step a few feet back to avoid the opening doorway. Their eyes widened, Especially once a bald-headed monk stepped out the open-crack.

He cleared his throat, His kindly face observing them.

"Ah, Our guests.. All doing well I presume?" He began, A small smile on his face as he lightly bowed to each one of them. "Our grace is ready to meet you all.. I hope you are all ready to greet him?"

Shinobu and the rest of the group shared a look with each other before glancing back to the man.

"Of course..! We must thank him after all, He is giving us the time out of his assuredly busy day to hear our story..!" Shinobu smiled back at the man, Bowing her head slightly towards him. The man bowed back, Stepping further out into the room.

"Then I'll let you all through, Please, Be respectful once you enter."

With that the doors began to open.

A gust of wind hit their faces, Making them flinch slightly from the way it hit their eyes and moved their hair. Shinobu didn't have any time to focus as she was beckoned forward, The old monk guiding her and the rest of the group into the winding room waiting on the other side.

The lotus scent was almost unbearable here, A singe in their noses as they moved into the hall.

The entire area was lined with archways that reached the ceilings. Water rippling echoed out through the room, Flowing adjacent to the carpeted pathway they moved forward on. Shinobu's smile hardened.

And strangely enough.. It grew colder.

Like snow, The kind that burned at your skin and lingered on your shoulders even after stepping inside. It made a chill run down Shinobu's spine, Whose expression matched the frigid atmosphere around them.

Shinobu breathed out, Her eyes unfocused.

What was going o-

"Ah, Greetings to you all..! You are the travellers, Right?"

A voice called out to them, Echoing across the room.

Shinobu paused, Her eyes stinging from that putrid lotus that infested the air. The group around her- Mitsuri, Maika, Kanao- All of them going deathly silent. Shinobu subtly wiped away the tears boiling in her eyes.

Raising her head.

Heart pounding.

Breath stilling.

Eyes widening.

At the head of the room, Elevated above them on a cushion was a man unlike any she had seen before. Shinobu felt like time itself had stopped as her eyes examined him, Raking over him, Her heart near exploding inside her chest.

He lazed on the cushion like a resting lion, With a solid golden fan fluttering around his face aimlessly. He was dressed in the regalia expected of him. A black ribboned crown decorated in gold- Draped in a matching cloak over his shoulders-

"..You are the travellers requesting sanctuary, Are you not?"

Shinobu didn't hear that voice dripping in friendliness, Not over the ringing in her ears. She didn't focus on his pale hair, Or his even paler skin.

His eyes.

Such colourful eyes..

"…-We are! Yes, I'm sorry.. We're just a bit shaken from our journey- Your grace!" Mitsuri stepped forward, Her eyes darting back and forth between Shinobu and the founder. Her lips raised to form a smile, Bowing before him.

The rest of the girls followed her actions, Bowing down with her. The hand Mitsuri laid on Shinobu's back guided her down too, Her eyes connecting with Shinobu.

Shinobu.

She looked-

"Oh, I understand..! The area around here is quite difficult to navigate, You all must be very tired..!" The man proclaimed with a wide smile, The fan in his hand fluttering around. "Hm.. Not to mention the weather too.. I see.."

The man raised from his position on the cushion, His cloak sweeping behind him as he was gently brought to his feet. The group and the monks surrounding them watched as he bowed back towards them, That smile on his face remaining all the same.

"My name is Douma." The man, Now Douma said as he raised back up to his full towering height. The fan flicked over his mouth to conceal his amusement. "Though I hear you've already picked up on my title- How perceptive!"

Douma.

This man was no man- It was a demon- It was an Upper Moon, There was no doubt about it.

Mitsuri knew that Shinobu knew, She could see it on her face. Mitsuri swallowed, Her eyes filled with concern- Confusion- Fear- All mixed together as she observed the unforeseen reaction upon Shinobu's face.

But she swallowed back her emotions, A smile appearing on her face.

Mitsuri giggled a little, Trying to build some repour between the two.

"Ah- Yes..!" She responded as she happily brushed the hair out of her face, Trying her best not to freeze at the colour in Douma's eyes. Mitsuri raised from her bow along with the rest of the girls, All of them having varying looks on their faces.

Mitsuri swallowed, Her mind racing like a horse.

"..My name is Fujimori Umeko. Me and my sisters were travelling to Fukushima when our carriage broke down.. Ehm.." Mitsuri shook her head slightly, Trying to recollect her thoughts.

Instead she stepped a side, Gesturing to the rest of the girls

"My name's A-Asuna..!"

"..Kariya."

A moment of silence passed between them, Mitsuri glancing towards Shinobu.

"Hina..?"

Shinobu was breaking.

The look in her eyes didn't even seem human anymore, Akin to a body frozen in ice. The smile on her face was stretched to it's limits, Contorted over her muscles and flesh as she stared dead at the floor.

Sweat began to build on her forehead, A vein near popping in her brow. Mitsuri watched with widening eyes as her hand twitched, Reaching, Almost on instinct to the missing holder around her waist.

Douma's head tilted to the side, The fan spread across his face.

"Hina.. You.." Mitsuri's breath near caught in her chest, Her mind trying to comprehend what was happening. Never in her life had she seen Shinobu act like this, Never. Never this strangely- This different- Mitsuri felt like she'd stop working entirely.

Her eyes looked at the narrowing of Douma's, Fingers twitching.

Shinobu's mouth opened.

"Y-You're sick..!" Maika suddenly cut in, Quickly rushing to Shinobu's side. She rested a hand on Shinobu's forehead, Pretending to check her temperature with a skittish look upon her face. "Oh no.. She's burning up!"

Mitsuri blinked- Though quickly shook it off as she turned her attention back towards Shinobu.

"Oh my.. Do you think she caught something while we were travelling..!? It is rather cold outside!" Mitsuri quickly added as she moved a bit further in front of Shinobu, Trying to conceal the look displayed on her face.

They could hear Douma gasp, The fan flicking once more.

"Oh.. You poor thing..!" He exclaimed, His smile instantly turning into frown as he looked them over from where he stood above them. Mitsuri watched as tears already began to form in his eyes, Looking down at Shinobu like an injured dog.

"We.. We're so sorry. We had no idea that she came down with something!" Maika piped up, Her lips shaking as she spoke. "We.. had no idea"

"Oh- Hina.. It doesn't look like a regular cold..!"

"D-Do you think it's something else..? Oh my.."

"Hina.. You've always had such a weak heart..!"

Douma hummed, That expression of hurt and concern still lain upon his face as he stepped away and lowered back onto the cushion. He looked as if he was thinking, Almost processing their words with a heavy lump in his throat.

He listened to the girls converse, His frown deepening.

"Please.. It hurts my heart to see such pretty faces look so distressed!" Douma spoke, His hand raising over his heart, A frown still prominent on his face. All girls but Shinobu looked up at him, Their eyes flicking between each other. "What could I possibly do to assist.. I wonder.."

"W-We just ask if he could stay here- Just until our sister get's better..!" Mitsuri asked, Her voice dripping with desperation and need as she spoke.

Douma chuckled, Cocking his head to the side as his vivid eyes stared into them.

"Ah.. Of course, Who would I be if I did not assist those in need?" Douma spoke as his eyes lingered on Shinobu, Eyelashes fluttering as he rested upon his comfortable throne. "We have plenty of room here.. So I suppose it should be alright!"

Douma's eyes trailed over to some of the monks, The ones that were lingering in between the archways- He beckoned them forward with a single shake of his hand, Wiping away his tears with the other.

"Ah.. Please, Go prepare some of the guest rooms for our visitors..! Make sure to summon one of our doctor's too.." Douma ordered to which the Monks bowed, Turning towards the group of girls. Douma did the same, Looking at them with an understanding expression..?

"T-Thank you- Your grace, It means so much to us..! As soon as our sister gets better we'll get out of your hair..!" Mitsuri called out as the monks in white began to guide them back towards the doors, Shepherding them away, Though Douma's eyes continued to linger.

He giggled slightly.

"Oh no.. Feel free to stay here as long as you like! Enjoy the scenery- The art! Please, Treat yourself as if you're one of our own..!" Douma proclaimed with a smile, Hidden behind his shimmering fan as he watch them be pushed towards the door.

Shinobu could barely move herself, Only let her be dragged along by Mitsuri who tried desperately to keep her act up. Shinobu's fists clenched together, Knuckles almost bursting as she raised her head.

Shinobu gritted her teeth. Their eyes connected through the crack of the door, The one beginning to be pushed closed by the monks.

Douma smiled.

"Enjoy your stay here, Fujimori-san..!"

The door shut closed.

☆♡☆

"Damn.. I'm exhausted."

"At least the mission was easy, Yes~? No second demon to slay or lower moon to run into."

"I suppose so.. Still. I feel like I'm going to pass out at any moment."

The air was cool, The wind gently dusting across their skin, Leaving a faint chill in their wake.

The sky was a dark sea speckled with stars spanning the entire length, Clouds only daring to dust on the horizon now, Watching over the land so far below as the dots of village lights flared in the distance.

Two girls sat together on top of a mountain ledge, Not close to the ground but not yet touching the sky. They leant against the rough trunks of the tree's around them, Leaves swaying in the revitalising wind.

Shinobu's eyes looked out over the ledge, Her fuzzy eyes reflecting the moon and it's shine as she examined the far-away village. Her needle-like sword laid on her lap, Her hand grasping a cloth which she absentmindedly ran over the blade, Washing off the ichor.

[F/N] herself sat adjacent to her, Head resting back against the tree with her knees pulled up to her chest. Her dragon-blue haori flowed in the wind along with her skirt, A blank yet enraptured expression upon her face as she looked up towards the night sky-

Almost longingly.

"Mitsuri-chan should be back soon, So when she is we can start heading to the next village over and we can see if there's any food stalls open, Yes~?" Shinobu asked, Her eyes trailing towards [F/N] with a small smile on her face.

[F/N] nodded, Though her eyes never left the night sky.

"Sure, Sounds good.."

There weren't many words said after that. No, Instead the both of them sat in silence to examine the far off surroundings. Feeling as the wind danced across the entire area, From their hair to their haori's.

Shinobu breathed out for a second, The smile on her face lowering only slightly. Both of them felt rather exhausted, Especially due to the uptick in missions they've all been assigned- It seemed like nowadays they barely had any time to themselves.

Shinobu continued to wipe off what little blood was on her blade, Her eyes enraptured on the way in shone under the moonlight. The way the cloth moved against the nichirin felt practiced, Polished, Like she had done it a thousand times before-

When in reality Shinobu was barely ever able to pierce her blade through flesh, Wet the blade with blood and proclaim herself a completed bounty.

"Shinobu-san, Are you.. Okay?"

[F/N]'s eyes finally looked away from the night, Now staring into the eyes of Shinobu from where she sat. Her expression was softer, The stars above reflecting in the warmth of her eyes.

Shinobu blinked, The smile on her face raising once more as she glanced back towards [F/N]. The question made her cock her head to the side, Looking at her in confusion.

"..Of course I am, Why do you ask?" Shinobu responded as her voice rang out across the cliff's edge. [F/N] stayed quiet for a moment, Her eyes just resting on Shinobu's face, Almost examining it.

But she just slowly shrugged, Pulling her knees closer to her chest.

"It's just.. I have a kind of sense you know?" [F/N] admitted, Almost looking sheepish as she looked at Shinobu. "..I don't really know how to explain it, But I'm good at reading people I suppose. It might just be me, But.. You seem.. Angry, Maybe?"

As soon as the words left [F/N]'s lips, Shinobu stopped moving entirely. Her eyes didn't blink as she continued to stare [F/N] dead in the eyes, Though her own seemed blank, Smile still raised on her face.

But she collected herself soon enough, Blinking, Regaining her composure.

"..Where are you getting that from, [F/N]-chan? I'm not angry right now." Shinobu answered kindly, Keeping her head tilted to the side in question as she looked over at [F/N].

Of whom sighed, Scratching the back of her head.

"It's just.. I guess I can sense it, You know?" [F/N] admitted, Her eyes kept on her fidgeting fingers. "You ever get that feeling, The kind that you can feel throughout your entire body whenever you're around someone..? Like you can sense who they are- Or.. Maybe what they are, Do you know what I'm talking about?"

"No.. I don't think I do." Shinobu answered, Her voice gentle, An eyebrow raised only slightly.

"Oh.. I see." [F/N] muttered, Her knees kept close to her chest.

Shinobu hummed at her response, Eyes trailing back off to the far away specks of the village lights. Though her posture was relaxed, She breathed a little too much out into the air, Her jaw a bit stiff.

"So this sense you have.. It's telling you that I'm angry?" Shinobu questioned, Almost curious in tone.

"Yeah, It has been for a while now." [F/N] responded slowly, As if choosing her words. "I didn't want to ask in front of 'Tsuri, Because as much as she's our friend, She's.. Never really been the best with her words or.. Subtlety."

"Hm, I suppose you're right..!" Shinobu responded, Rather amused? "Mitsuri-chan always has been a bit.. Dramatic?"

[F/N] smiled slightly, Though it came off more awkward than it should have.

"You're my friend too, Shinobu-san. I want you to be happy, I.. Admire you and I only want you to be content with yourself.." [F/N] sighed as she spoke.

Shinobu's eyes however, Perked up.

"Wait- Wait.. You admire. Me?" Shinobu stammered slightly, Letting it slip through as she almost looked taken aback. Her eyes seemed to widen, Not daring to take them off the girl in front of her as if she had heard something.. Outrageous.

A sigh came out from [F/N].

"I mean, Yeah." She responded, As if she was pointing out something obvious. "You're smart, Smarter than I am. You make poisons that could kill so painlessly.. Or aggressively, All depending on how you choose. Besides. You're so good at talking to people, Honestly I wonder how you do it.."

[F/N] trailed off, Her words flowing out of her mouth until they could no more. Her eyes narrowed. Arms tightening around her knees. Shinobu couldn't even speak as she watched her head raise once more.

An awkward, Small smile on her lips.

"You don't need to tell me what's bothering you, Shinobu-san, But you don't need to tell me you're alright either.." [F/N] said, Her eyes connected with Shinobu's. "You're not alone. I know I'm not the best company, Not the best at words or.. Even just being a human being. But if I'm the best you've got right now, Then I'll do my best to listen. Only if you want to, Though.. Okay?"

Shinobu just looked at her, The breeze continuing to brush against her skin. Unblinking. Lips parted only by a slight. It was almost if the world slowed down even just a bit, Just sitting, Looking at each other from across the ledge.

Though Shinobu's eyes lowered, Her smile returning to her face. This time, Perhaps on it's own.

"..Mitsuri-chan is taking her time, Yes? We should go make sure that she hasn't gotten into trouble this time." Shinobu said with a hint of amusement in her voice, Her hand gripping her sword as she dusted herself off and began to get up.

[F/N] paused for a moment, But then nodded and followed her up.

"You're right. It's not like her to stay away this long.." She agreed as she adjusted the blue of her haori over her uniform, Tugged her skirt into place and settled her sword behind her back.

Both nodded, Beginning to make their way down the mountain. Both taking looks at each other when the other didn't.

No words were spoken, None were needed.

☆♡☆

"That was him, Wasn't it- Upper Moon Two..!"

The lotus smell festered like a plague in the air, Nipping at the eyes, The skin.

They had been lead through the halls of the convent, Through the shoji and the scenery. Past tapestries and talismans to be brought to a secluded section, Where they had been introduced to the sleeping quarters reserved for guests.

The group of four had been separated into two rooms, The monks then leaving them to go find a resident doctor for Shinobu's 'illness'. Mitsuri now stood off in the far corner of the room, Next to one of the two beds, Biting her nail in thought.

Mitsuri could barely understand what was happening. They had assumed that Upper Two had to have been feasting on the members, Perhaps was a sort of beast they had sacrificed their devout to- Something that could be considered common for demons, To find a supplying food source.

But for him to be the leader? A devout figure seen as nothing but good?

For him to be the demon, The Upper Moon Two-

"Shinobu-chan.. What.. What happened out there?" Mitsuri asked quietly, Her lips pressing together, Looking at the other woman from across the room with a hesitant eye.

Shinobu stood there at the far end of the room, One hand gripping the vanity, Facing the wall and staring dead into the wood. She just stood there, As still as the air around them. Mitsuri couldn't see her face from where she was, Just the back of her kimono and the hand rested on the table.

Though for some reason, The room grew colder.

More and more frigid by the second.

Mitsuri swallowed.

"..I know it was a demon, Upper Two- But what happened out there- It was like you just froze.. I.. I've never seen you look like that, Shinobu-chan." She continued slowly, Mitsuri's voice delicate as she spoke. Shinobu didn't answer.

"I-It was like I wasn't looking at you anymore, It was like I was looking at an entirely different person.. Shinobu-chan, Please, You need to tell me what happened out there..!" Mitsuri pleaded with her, Her voice quiet as if not to disturb anyone else yet it was desperate.

Shinobu stayed silent.

Mitsuri swallowed, Unsure of what to do.

It was like the entire room stilled. The ember in the lantern dimming, The croaking of the wood abnormally quiet. Mitsuri bit her lip, Knowing that Shinobu was probably in thought, Maybe she just didn't hear her.

Mitsuri took a step forward towards her, The floorboard creaking quietly below her sandals as she neared Shinobu. Mitsuri didn't even notice that she had stopped breathing, Slowly, Reaching her hand out towards Shinobu.

"Shinobu-chan.."

Mitsuri's fingers almost touched the fabric on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

.

..

…

"Okay?"

Mitsuri yelped out as her hand was roughly shoved off from Shinobu's shoulder. She stumbled back in surprise. Eyes widening as she looked up at her friend.

"Am I.. Okay, Mitsuri..?"

Shinobu's voice was low as she spoke, Her tone sickeningly sweet, Revolting, Enough to make bile spill out of a person's throat.

Shinobu. She looked back at Mitsuri with a smile that was painfully stretched from ear to ear, Her eyes wide and wild looking back at Mitsuri. Teeth gritted together as her expression contorted into a mix between a smile and a snarl.

"I.. I.." Mitsuri stammered over her words as she took a step back, Her shoulders raised to a peak. Shinobu's expression kept dead on her face as Mitsuri tried to figure out what was happening.

"You're asking me.. If I'm okay?"

The room grew colder like winter had found it's way into the room. What was happening? Mitsuri didn't know. Her eyes were unable to look away from the horrific sight that was Shinobu's toothed grin.

"Shinobu.. Chan..?" Suddenly Mitsuri felt like she was a cornered animal. Was she okay? What was wrong? Her smile.. Thoughts ran through her head like the wind outside crashing against the walls. She swallowed.

Mitsuri took a step back.

Shinobu took a step forward.

Before Mitsuri could even process a hand was tugging onto her arm, Grasping it as tightly as it could around her wrist. It was weak, It was frail but Mitsuri felt like it was steel digging into her skin in that very moment.

Shinobu giggled, But it sounded more like a hiss.

"You're so strong, Mitsuri, You know that right?" Shinobu said out of the blue, Her tone so disgustingly saccharine as she looked up into Mitsuri's eyes, Her own capable of melting flesh. "You're so talented, You're so skilled..! You can cut off a demons head just like that, So easily, Like their neck was simply paper.. I'm just so.. Amazed."

Mitsuri listened, Her head shook in confusion. Her breath began to pick up, Feeling her heart thrum in her chest. This was nothing like Shinobu, It was nothing like her at all. It was like looking into the eyes of a stranger-

A stranger that gripped Mitsuri's wrist like she wanted to dig her nails into it.

She swallowed back her unease.

"Shinobu-chan.. W-Where is this coming fro-?"

"You know.. I was never born with such incredible strength." Shinobu cut in, Not giving Mitsuri any chance to speak. "I could never slice a demon's head off like you do. All of that natural born strength.. I guess that's why you're considered one of the strongest Hashira, Right?"

Shinobu took a breath in, Shaky, Unsteady, Looking up at Mitsuri with nothing but wildfire in her eyes.

"You know, No matter how hard I train I'll still be known as the weakest Hashira, The only one whose so useless that they can't even cut off a demon's head!" Shinobu laughed like it was the funniest joke in the world. "You know the rest of the Hashira worked for that kind of physical power, Each and every one of them but.. You were just.. Born with it! Isn't that amazing how you can just look at me and think we're on equal standing..?"

Shinobu praised though it sounded like venom on her tongue, Burning, Acidic in Mitsuri's ears. Mitsuri shook her head, Her head beginning to spin as Shinobu stepped ever closer.

Her grip grew tighter on Mitsuri's arm, But not by much.

"I guess that's why I'm just so amazed by you.. So amazed that someone like you could ask if I'm okay." Shinobu breathed out, Her eyes piercing into Mitsuri's as she looked into them with ire.

"S-Shinobu-chan.. Let go of me-"

"-I mean you've been asking me that question for the past few days, Haven't you? Every. Single. Day." Shinobu laughed, Spitting out every little word like it rotted in her mouth. "Do you know how irritating that is, Mitsuri-chan~? How you keep asking and asking and asking and asking.."

Shinobu continued on as Mitsuri stood in shocked silence, Her lip trembling as she listened to Shinobu's voice crack as if it would break any moment now.

"T-The demon, You know it- Shinobu-chan- Please let go of me, What has gotten into you..-!"

"That thing killed my sister, Mitsuri-chan." Shinobu hissed out now, Not even concealing it as her smile wretched into a scowl.

Mitsuri's breath hitched.

Kanae.

Mitsuri hadn't met her but the stories she had heard were grand, At one point Kanae growing to be known as one of the strongest Hashira of their time. Shinobu had spoke of her sometimes, About her smile- About the way she spoke to people with the upmost kindness in her voice- The way she fought so gracefully on the battlefield.

But never about her death, Never. The topic was always shut down whenever it was brought up. It was figured to be a sore spot for both Shinobu and the Hashira that were old enough to remember her, The newer additions never bothering to ask out of respect.

But now?

"Shinobu-chan- I-I'm so sorry, I didn't know-"

"Don't." Shinobu hissed, Her expression darkening at Mitsuri's words. "Just don't. I don't want to hear your pity for me. It's already insufferable-"

Shinobu scoffed as she let go of Mitsuri's arm, Making Mitsuri stammer back away from her and grip the part where Shinobu grabbed her. Shinobu turned away, Her breath ragged as she paced about the room, Her footsteps hitting against the floor.

Mitsuri felt her hands shake, Trying her best to steady them as she breathed out. Her mind continued to race, Trying to find something, Anything to say to Shinobu- Anything that won't get her cut off or irritate her even further.

Mitsuri swallowed.

"S-Shinobu.. I'm not pitying you, I promise that- We are equal, You are because you're my friend..! You're amazing, You are strong-! Please, You need to listen to me..!" Mitsuri pleaded as she looked at her friend, Someone she has known for years.

Shinobu's laugh was cruel.

"No.. No, Mitsuri.. You don't get it. You don't get how lucky you are, Do you?" She asked, Shaking her head as she approached Mitsuri once more. Her footsteps making the floorboards creak, Making Mitsuri's breath hitch.

Shinobu's smile twitched, Her eyes burning into her.

"You had it good, Mitsuri. No one becomes a slayer because they had it good, Except for you. You never had anyone die in your arms, You never watched your family get slaughtered by demons. Never had to wash their blood out from your hair and still find bits of them under your nails the next morning."

Mitsuri felt tears begin to prickle in her eyes, Feel her lip tremble as she shook her head- Try to find anything to say.

But nothing came out.

Shinobu scoffed at her reaction when she heard no response, Her brow twitching.

"You didn't have it bad, Not like everyone else.. Not like Himejima-san, Not like Iguro-san, Shinazugawa-san- Not like [F/-!" Shinobu cut herself off, Her expression falling, Refusing to finish the name.

Mitsuri's eyes snapped up at the name, The one that made her heart skip a beat and clench all the same. Her eyes glinted with something almost like.. Hesitance, Feeling her stomach turn as Shinobu frowned- Frowned-!

But it quickly fell along with her expression, Slowly shaking her head.

"You didn't deserve [F/N], Neither of us did." Shinobu said quietly, Turning away from Mitsuri now as she looked nowhere in particular within the room. She scoffed. "But you know what Mitsuri..? You were right back then, You should have tried harder. You knew she wasn't doing well and you didn't do anything."

Mitsuri froze at Shinobu's words, Feeling like a punch to the gut made her expression turn crestfallen. She tried her best to keep her composure, To not break down when Shinobu was already doing the same.

But her expression began to crack, Beginning to chip at the edges.

"I-I know, Shinobu-chan, I know." Mitsuri spoke, Her voice gentle and trying it's best to stay levelled. "It's all I can think about, Every second of the day what I could've done to stop all of this. M-M'sorry.. Shinobu- I'm trying. I'm trying my best to make this right."

Shinobu scoffed, Turning around, Her glare burning into Mitsuri.

"Doesn't matter anymore, Mitsuri, Doesn't matter how hard you try. The only reason you're trying so hard to find her now is to get rid of the guilt of her death, Isn't it? But.. [F/N] is dead, And if she isn't- She's a demon by now and would tear either of us limb from limb without a second thought."

She stepped forward, Shinobu's voice grew low.

"The worst part is that I'd let her."

Mitsuri couldn't help but choke out, Tears burning in her eyes and threatening to spill over the edge. And they did. Tears trickling down her face made burns across her cheeks. Mitsuri sniffling only slightly as she listened to Shinobu's words.

They cut so deep, So very deep.

Mitsuri tried not to break as she hugged herself in her kimono.

The flame in Shinobu's eyes began to build once more, Her fallen expression building back up as she looked at Mitsuri with such anger unlike any other. Shaking her head she moved closer.

"She killed herself because of you, Mitsuri. You're the reason she's dead." Shinobu hissed, Her voice aching as she looked dead into Mitsuri's eyes.

"..I-I know." Mitsuri whispered.

Tears continued to spill down her cheeks, Sniffling as her expression broke more and more by the second. Neither of them spoke, Silence except for the small choked sobs under Mitsuri's breath and the ragged breathing of Shinobu.

Both just stared at each other. Shinobu's breathed out, Her eyes shrinking back only slightly as she stepped away from her. She swallowed, Trailing down to look at the floor as her head shook.

"Just.. Get out." Shinobu hissed quietly. "Go tell those.. Those monks that you're allergic to the bedding- Or something.. Just. Just get out of my sight..!"

"S-Shinobu..-!"

"Get out..!" Shinobu butted in once more. Firmer, Louder as she turned away to face the wall- Not wanting to look at her any longer as she stepped back near the corner of the room.

Mitsuri didn't need any more signs as sniffled, Wiping the tears trickling down her face on her kimono sleeve, Trying to steady her breathing. Mitsuri's eyes began to sting as she dragged her feet over to the sliding door.

She gripped the handle, Wanting to say something- Anything to Shinobu. But Mitsuri knew that she wouldn't get the results desired.

So instead she just breathed in, Trying her best not to cry any further as she walked out of the room.

Leaving Shinobu alone, Her expression unseen as the door shut closed.

[thursdaygxrls]

thin ice — four

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary — kitty is yet again dragged to a social gathering she would rather not attend. the bait this time? weed!

paring — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!(journalist)!reader

disclaimer — who is expecting me to own peter parker by now?? bc i don’t

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty,’ weed, slightly inexperienced reader (experienced peter, no smut yet im sorry), possible ooc

Days like these were the ones Kitty craved: hazy, chilly spring weather that resembled fall, except that dying leaves were replaced by cherry-red buds, and flowers bloomed through blades of grass. It was one of those days with no responsibilities to fill her precious hours—the ones that were spent scrolling through Pinterest and reading. She was stretched haphazardly along her bed, still dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt with holes in the armpits. The blinds were still closed, so the sudden beam of light next to her startled her.

“You love interrupting my dark-dwelling time,” she hissed as MJ entered the room. Sticking out her tongue, MJ closed the door behind her and sealed off the obnoxious light, much to Kitty’s relief.

“I’m sorry, my sun-hating princess,” MJ spoke dramatically as she rummaged through her bag, “But, I come bearing gifts.”

At this, Kitty perked up, swiping out of Project Makeover and sitting up to devote her full attention to her roomate. From her bag, MJ produced two plastic-wrapped chocolate-chip cookies and tossed them to bed. The girl pounced on them, immediately tearing into the plastic on one of the packs.

“I forgive you,” she said before biting into the treat.

“Thank God,” MJ replied in dramatic relief. Ease settled over the room as MJ removed her jacket and went about unpacking her things. Kitty, now finished with her first cookie, tossed the used plastic to the trash can across the room (and missed horribly). 

“What’ve you been up to this lovely Friday?” She asked her freckled friend, who was currently changing out of her cable knit sweater. 

“Oh, you know, class,” MJ responded as she slid a Stevie Nicks shirt over her head, “Some people still have class on Fridays.”

“That must be heartbreaking,” Kitty hummed sarcastically, “Anything else?”

“Oh, yeah,” MJ’s movements were smooth as she went through her bag, “I had lunch with Harry after class.”

“Was the dining hall romantic?” Kitty questioned with a smile.

“Totally,” MJ responded with a laugh, “The black-bean burgers are basically aphrodisiacs. Anyways, he invited us out to Hot Rock around eight, so I was thinking we could get dinner–”

“No, thanks,” Kitty intercepted, bringing her legs up closer to her torso and flattening her lips to a line, “I’m not leaving the dorm today.”

“If you had it your way, you’d do that every day,” MJ groaned.

“And?’ Kitty quirked a brow, causing another grumble to leave her counterpart.

“Do you realize how much I say ‘no’ to stuff?” She continued, “‘Kitty, wanna go to a hockey game?’ No. ‘Kitty, wanna go to a frat party?’ No. Our entire relationship exists on the basis of you wanting to do stuff and me trying to refuse.”

“But you still went,” MJ raised her brows hopefully, “To both things. And it’s not like it’s just going to be Harry, he said some other people would be there.”

“Oh, great, other people, you know how much I love social gatherings where I don’t know anyone.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“You know Peter,” MJ suggested. Kitty hadn’t seen Peter in a while. ‘A while,’ in her case, was a week. She’d gotten some semi-regular texts from him (cat memes and open invites to hang out) but hadn’t seen him since the frat party.

“Is it the best use of their time to be at Hot Rock when the semi-finals are two days away?” Kitty asked.

“No, probably not, but,” MJ’s smile, which had been dimming, came back with full vibrance, “But we can reap the benefits of their deviant behavior.”

“Are the benefits better than chocolate chip cookies?” She hummed.

“Pre-rolls and a bong,” MJ wiggled her fingers in a tamer version of jazz hands. Kitty seemed to deflate with a loud sigh.

“I hate that you make me do things.”

Hot Rock existed on the older, suburban side of campus. Right behind one of the major dining halls was a small, hidden space that hit the blind spot of the security cameras in the area. It wasn’t a rock so much as an artificial slab of stone with a metal pipe attached that spewed hot steam. It was connected to the heating system in the dining hall, but also served as a popular spot for stoners. A few of these man-made smoke spots were scattered around campus, but this one was the most popular, mainly because this rock was always much hotter than the others.

Kitty’s breath appeared in small puffs in the night air and she and MJ walked around the corner of the dining hall. It was spring, and the weather was getting warmer, but there was still a bit of frost. As they shuffled down a small slope, the rock revealed itself, decorated with about four people, one of them being Harry.

“MJ!” He nearly fell over himself scrambling towards the pair. He pressed a small kiss to her lips and wrapped an arm around her in greeting. MJ giggled, choosing to ignore Kitty’s gagging face.

“Kitty-cat!” Harry directed his grinning face to her, “I’m so glad MJ got you out of your tree.”

“I almost wish you’d just call me ‘bitch’ instead of that,” she replied. Harry, not losing any vigor, laughed.

“I know what you need.” He wagged his brows as he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel. He produced a mini pre-rolled joint with a proud grin, “Kitty needs her catnip.”

“I’m gonna let that one slide,” she said, and he simply chuckled. His eyes moved from hers, and somehow his impossibly bright smile widened. Kitty turned and was met with a familiar pair of hazel eyes.

“I’m a big fan of catnip, too,” Peter grinned, sliding down to meet the rest of the group.

“Hey, Peter,” Harry let go of MJ for a moment to give Peter a half-hug. Peter’s eyes, however, never let go of Kitty. He held her gaze with ease.

“Can we sit? My ass is cold,” MJ grumbled lightly as Harry took his post next to her.

“Of course, of course,” was Harry’s hurried reply. The four found spots on the rock, Harry returning to his original spot and taking MJ with him. Kitty settled in a small nook where the slab met a natural rock formation, and, as if she was a magnetic pole, Peter sat next to her. A few awkward introductions were shared with the others at the rock, though, it was clear they were all at least a few hits into Harry’s pre-rolls. 

“So,” Peter’s voice cracked through the silence, “We keep finding each other, don’t we?”

“You keep finding me,” Kitty corrected.

“Same difference,” he shrugged. Wordlessly, he slipped his backpack from his shoulder and set it down in front of him. He worked in surprising order as he removed the items: a grinder, a small, rolled-up plastic bag, a green bong that had seen better days.

“Are student athletes supposed to be smoking?” She asked. For once, his gaze wasn’t focused on her, but on the contents before him.

“Helps with nerves,” he said, grabbing the baggy, “It’s medical, y’know.”

“Hm, I bet,” she replied. He worked with diligence: his long, slender fingers plucked a chunk of bud from the bag and trapped it in the grinder. The sleeves of his black long sleeve were rolled up, revealing his wrist that tensed lightly when he ground the bud. She’d never quite noticed how strong his hands looked—veiny and taught, likely from the hours upon hours of hockey practice. Then came the realization that she was staring, which pulled her attention away from him and to the others on the rock. Though there weren’t many people, pockets of conversation were created: MJ and Harry, who were cuddled up and passing a joint, two other members of the hockey team and a girl with shaggy blonde hair, and, of course, her and Peter. 

“Alright,” Peter hummed in satisfaction as he packed the bowl. He grabbed a red lighter from the front pocket of his jeans and finally looked at Kitty. He held the bong out for her with one of those easy, boyish smiles, “Wanna do the honors, Y/n?”

Peter seemed to be good at evoking emotions from her. Annoyance, frustration, confusion, and now, prickly embarrassment. She licked her lips, looking from the bong and back to him.

“Um,” she let out a small cough, “I’m…not sure how to?”

She wasn’t new to smoking. There was the occasional joint she and MJ would indulge in, or maybe she would take a hit off cart at one of the parties she was dragged to. She’d just hadn’t gotten the chance to hit a bong before—a fact that didn’t bother her until she was here, staring at Peter. She hated her reply and the way she stumbled with her words. She hated that she had nothing better to say. She hated that she had released blood into the water.

“You haven’t done this before?” He grinned. Her jaw clenched at the way he said that. Kitty, in response, sucked her teeth.

“Have you never smoked before?” He cocked his head.

“No, I have, just not this,” she sighed, a slight aggravated clip to her words. Peter must’ve noticed because his gloating grin softened.

“That’s alright,” his voice was more mellow now, “That’s okay, everyone has a first time.”

This persona, the calmer one he adapted when he knew she was getting pissed off, may have pissed her off even more. If he wasn’t being an asshole, it was harder to be annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with him, which made her annoyed with herself.

“Okay,” she said, a cleansing breath of chilled spring air filling her lungs.

“Okay?” He repeated, “You want to try?”

Kitty glanced at MJ and Harry. They weren’t doing anything graphic, but they were still all over each other, giggling and whispering. She turned back to Peter and nodded.

“You sure?” He raised a brow.

“Gimme,” she groaned, taking the glass bong from his hands. He let out a small, breathy chuckle and nodded.

“Okay, so,” he sat up, “I’m gonna light it, you breathe in through the mouth right here. I’ll pull the bowl for you and you keep breathing in, okay?”

Kitty nodded, her lips descending on the mouthpiece. A sudden flash of panic struck her as he flicked the lighter. Did she look stupid? Was she being stupid? Why did she care? Peter lit the bowl, and she did as he said, sucking in a deep drag. The bong bubbled to life and milky smoke flooded the tube.

“Good, good,” Peter encouraged as he pulled the bowl, “Keep sucking in—there you go, just like that.”

She’d been doing fine until he’d spoken. His words, meant as innocent encouragement, sent blood rushing to her face. Her scalp burned as her head reared back and ragged coughs escaped her. Smoke left her lips in puffs, like dust being stirred from an old book. Peter patted her back with one hand and rummaged through his bag with another.

“That happens,” he spoke, unphased by her continuous coughing. He took a metal water bottle decorated in stickers in various states of wear from his bag and unscrewed the lid.

“Here, drink,” he brought it to her lips and she immediately sucked down the water. It was cold against her burning throat. She focused on how cool it was, hoping it would also subdue the burning in her face. A few gulps later, Kitty was back to a semi-normal state. She took in deep breaths, swirling in oxygen with the cannabis in her lungs. 

“That was a big-ass hit. Good job,” Peter chuckled, “When was the last time you smoked?”

“I don’t know, a few weeks ago? And thank you,” Kitty replied. There wasn’t a hint of snark in her words, which was highly unusual. The afterburn of her influx of new feelings was still there.

“That oughta do it,” he took the bong from her, “I mean, you can totally have more, but your tolerance is probably pretty low, and the hit you just took looked more like three.”

“Yeah, that oughta do it,” she coughed out. He eyed her, suspicious of her lack of sass, before lighting the bowl for himself.

The bong caught up with her within ten minutes. There was a low vibration in her body, one that pulsed in her fingertips and warmed her. Her vision was a bit more narrow now, like she was viewing movie through her vision. Her mind bubbled, and when her eyes caught a glimpse of the sky, she leaned back with astonished glee.

It wasn’t often that you saw stars in the sky on this side of New York. Usually, the city lights blocked out anything non-artificial. But here, a mile or so away from the more prominent lights, she was able to see the glimmer of distant stars. It was captivating, really, and she could’ve stared at them for hours. Maybe she did. People buzzed around her without her recognition. Even Peter seemed to settle into a comfortable silence next to her. 

“Do you remember that one episode of Hannah Montana where Miley moves into a new house and there’s a pizza oven? Like, one of those wood ovens you put pizza in. A pizza oven? Yeah?” She asked, glancing in Peter’s direction. He seemed to only slightly register the question before looking at her with a cocked brow.

“No,” he replied.

“Oh,” she hummed, “What about the one where—it’s the third episode, I think—the one where Oliver—no, it’s the second episode—the one where Oliver is in love with Hannah Montana, but he doesn’t know it’s Miley, so Miley and Lilly are like ‘oh, no!’” 

“No,” he repeated. His voice wasn’t harsh, though. It was soft, maybe even curious.

“It’s good,” she said, “Real good. Real good.” 

It was around then that the stars began to lull her to sleep. There was something comfortable about this moment: the heat of the rock, the stars, the weed in her system. She drifted off for a moment and was quickly awoken by a gentle shake.

“Y/n?” Peter called lightly, “Are you sleepy?”

His hand was on her arm. His hand was on her arm. Her eyes settled on that before she could even begin to process his words. His hand was lovely, truly, with its web of veins, the slender fingers that warmed her skin. She looked up to him and smiled.

“Hey!” Was her cheery reply. He laughed at this and nodded. Kitty cocooned inside herself once more as he turned away and called out to someone on the other side of the rock. She heard Harry, then MJ, then Peter again. It sounded like hearing a foreign language as the spoke.

“Would you like to sleep in your bed instead of this rock?” Peter asked. Kitty, still cocooned, sprung forward a bit.

“Yes,” she responded confidently. He couldn’t help but smile at her tone. He packed away his bag swiftly and stood, offering a hand to Kitty.

“You think I can’t stand up? Oh, I can stand up—I’m an olympic stander,” she mumbled, rejecting his hand. This side of her was something Peter had never experienced. He was used to snippy comments and sharp replies, but the inebriated, bumbling Kitty was an entirely different person. He liked it. A lot.

They began their trek back to Kitty’s dorm in silence. It was comfortable like this: quiet interrupted by the occasional off-key hum by the girl. It wasn’t a very far walk, only five minutes or so, and when they reached the front, Peter’s tight grin loosened a bit.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something,” he said, his hand gently catching her arm. In this state, she wasn’t able to deny the electric current that was sent through her nervous system. Kitty shivered as she met his eyes.

“I know you’re not in the right headspace for this, so I’ll ask you again later, but…” he trailed off. He looked away from her, and she caught the way his throat bobbed slightly. This lasted for only a moment before he was making eye contact again, “Do you wanna come to semis?”

That wasn’t the question she expected. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Instead of responding, she stared blankly at him.

“It’s not here, it’s actually kind of far away,” he was rambling now, “Well, not super far, it’s in New Jersey. It’s sort of late notice, so I know you might not want to go, and you have your own shit to worry about, too, so—”

“This is very weird,” Kitty interrupted.

“What?” Peter stopped, looking to her with a quirked brow.

“You’re acting nervous and talking a lot. Weird,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I am nervous, and I’m a little high, and you’re really hot, so there’s just a lot going on up here.” He gestured to his head. Her eyes were blank for several seconds before they sparked in recognition.

“Oh—oh.” Her expression changed rapidly, eventually landing on something akin to realization. Silence swelled between them for a moment before it was broken by one word: “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Peter repeated.

“Maybe,” she nodded in agreement. His lips tugged into a boyish smile once more.

“Okay, Y/n,” he grinned, “Maybe.”

a/n — (in the voice of that one meme) heyy….how y’all doin??? okay so im sorry that this update is months late, college has been a lot. it’s been fun tho!! like, i think im the happiest ive ever been. anyways, im sorry if this update doesn’t fit as well with the others, im trying to get back into the groove of writing, forgive me 🙏 love u guys!!

taglist

@reidslovely @awezomezauce @tarzinnia @fr3akho3 @multilovebot @collywobbl @naok-iyuu @kay-i-guess @littlexscarletxwitch @ujimoo

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 8: MIND PALACES & OTHER SHATTERED CRYSTALLINE DREAMS

synopsis: connor has a talk with amanda, and you have a talk with your own mind. connor reminds you, once more, that he's made of plastic and metal, not flesh and blood.

word count: 2.8k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: i know there's a real life viktor petrov. atomic heart is just weird and named characters after real life people

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The Zen Garden is nice, if a bit humid. Connor’s footsteps are quiet as he walks on the marble that paves the sprawling paths.

Again, that stone stares at him, the soft blue glow entrancing. And just like last time, Connor kneels and touches it. The thrum of energy he expected still shocks his system, and still causes him to take an unneeded, artificial breath. With one last glance over his shoulder, Connor walks away.

When Connor approaches the dock, Amanda is waiting on the water in a quaint little rowboat, an orange and white wagasa resting over her shoulder.

“Hello, Connor.” She smiles. “I thought you might enjoy a little cruise.”

Connor steps into the boat, then pushes it away from the dock. He takes the looms of the oars in his hands and pushes the blades through the water to propel them backward.

After a few moments of looking around, Amanda speaks. “I love this place. Everything is so calm and peaceful, far from the noise of the world.”

She turns to Connor. “Tell me, what have you discovered?”

“I found two deviants at the Eden Club.” Connor looks away, then back to Amanda, then away again, like a nervous dog. He wrings his hands in his lap. He’s not sure why he feels the need to. “I hoped to learn something, but… they managed to escape.”

“That’s too bad.” Amanda’s voice is laced with overly-obvious sympathy. “You seemed so close to stopping them.”

Connor takes the looms of the oars and pushes the blades through the water again instead of responding. Again, there’s that voice (yours – he’s sure it’s your voice) in between his lines of code that tells him to snap at her, to tell her to stop with her fake worry and honeyed words. 

“You seem… lost, Connor,” Amanda says. “Lost, and perturbed.”

Connor’s lips draw into a thin line. “I thought I knew what I had to do. But now I realize it’s not that simple.”

“You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club. The Officer even told you to grab the Lieutenant’s gun,” Amanda says. “Why didn’t you shoot?”

Connor looks down at where his hands rest in his lap. “I don’t know.” A deep pang of something shoots through his systems, and his eyes snap up to meet Amanda’s. “I don’t know.”

“If your investigation doesn’t make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Connor,” Amanda says, her tone cold and even.

“I understand,” Connor says softly. He can feel something within him twitch – an instability he’s confident will correct itself as time goes on.

The twitch pulls him to look to his left. In the surrounding trees, just barely on the treeline, is a little sapling Connor knows wasn’t there before. It’s silvery and wispy, and can’t be more than a foot in height. But trees shouldn’t be that color. And saplings are supposed to be covered in leaves because of their need to absorb as much sunlight as possible. This one is bare.

“Is something amiss, Connor?” Amanda asks.

“No,” Connor lies. He turns back to Amanda. “Just thinking. That’s all.”

Suddenly, a clap of thunder rolls across the sky even though the clouds above are thin and an orangey color. Amanda looks upwards, as does Connor.

“Something’s happening. Something serious.” Her eyes return to Connor. “Hurry, Connor. Time is running out.”

Your eyes snap open as you gasp, inhaling lumino-polymer. It floods into your lungs, causing the warm and pleasant feeling that comes with having another living being invade your system.

It doesn’t shock you that you’re here again – in your memories. Your mind loves putting you back in the Vavilov Complex, a place you frequented in your youth when you were able to feel solid ground beneath your feet. (Or, rather, above your head, as most of the complex is underground.)

The lumino-polymer that surrounds you is kept in a transitional state: a diffusion-sensitive, anaerobic-bacteria-friendly, translucent, and gluey liquid. The bacteria is suspended around you in little specks of glowing blue. 

You’re not sure which way is up, but you kick your feet to propel yourself towards the light. After a few moments, you break the surface and haul yourself out of the pool, settling on your knees by the edge. Lumino-polymer sloughs off you like you’re a shedding reptile – in one gross, voluminous heap that quickly settles back into the pool.

You put a hand on your chest and take a deep breath. Now, there’s nothing in your lungs but air. But memories and minds work in weird and inconsistent ways, right? So that’s to be somewhat expected.

Yet when you look up, the one thing that’s always consistent is still consistent – the PEC-4 Birchtree is still there. The symbol of the Vavilov Complex and the capstone of its research efforts stands tall in her five meter-diameter by ten meter-tall cylindrical capsule. 

She’s not the typical birch you’d usually think about. Her trunk is thin and silvery, and her leafless branches resemble a wispy mycelium complex rather than sturdy wood. They hang down, almost like weird, sinewy versions of the leaves of a weeping willow. She’s more angel than tree.

You look down and find a metal pail by your feet. It’s already been filled with lumino-polymer. You pick it up and start walking up the stairs. 

When you reach the top, the PEC-4 Birchtree is staring down at you without eyes. Her branches wave despite the lack of a wind to move them. You kneel before the capsule and press on the fuel inlet. As soon as it opens with a soft click, you pour the lumino-polymer in.

When it settles in her soil, the PEC-4 Birchtree almost seems to inhale inside her capsule. Her branches relax soon after.

“Что мне делать?” You ask softly. You look down at where your hands rest in your lap. “Я чувствую себя… потерянно. Действительно потерянно.”

Look at where you are, my child, she responds from within your mind. She doesn’t speak in English or Russian or any other human language – she sounds like the electrical impulses from within your own brain. You’ve escaped from situations more dangerous than this. Remember where you came from. Remember your parents and the reactors they worked in and Chelomey as a whole.

“Я знаю, но…” You bring a hand to your face, then look up at her. Your voice is quiet and quivering when you speak. “Мне страшно.”

You don’t need to be, she says. You can always rely on yourself. Memorize the cards in your hand. Know when to play them. Stack the deck if you need to. Real life plays dirty.

“Да… да, вы правы.” You stand and put a hand on the plexiglass of her capsule. “Спасибо.”

You start to turn to walk away, but are stopped by the PEC-4 Birchtree’s voice permeating your mind again. 

Please be careful, she says. They need you. Both of them. You can keep them on this Earth. Be vigilant. I love you. 

“Да, мэм,” you say softly. “Я тоже вас люблю. Спокойной ночи.”

You zone back in and register your surroundings. You’re in the android autopsy room. Your autopsy table is empty.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, then you breathe in deeply. No lumino-polymer in your lungs. Just air. No PEC-4 Birchtree here. Just you. 

A knock sounds at the door. You glance at the clock – it’s just past 6:30 in the morning. You stand and open the door.

Connor stands there, his blazer now clean. “Hello, Officer. I assume an adequate amount of time has passed for you to process the events of yesterday evening and early this morning?”

You step to the side, allowing Connor in. “Khm, yeah. I guess.”

Connor steps through and the door closes automatically behind him. He moves over and sits in the chair he was sitting in yesterday while you hop up on your autopsy table. (Internally, this only solidifies that chair as ‘Connor’s chair’ in your mind.)

“Why did you come here?” You ask. “I don’t really feel like reviewing case details right now.”

“I just came to talk, Officer,” Connor says. 

You pull your legs up onto the table and cross them. “You talk an awful lot. And about personal things, too.”

“I suppose I do.” He looks down at the ground, then back up at you. “When I was in the car, you were talking to Hank. What were you talking about?”

You sigh and your eyes fall to the floor. “His drinking problem. How he gets when he drinks. His suicidal tendencies. How I can’t spend a second without worrying about him.”

“Are you coping well?” Connor asks.

“Of course not.” You let out a humorless laugh. “I went back to my apartment, but I just… couldn’t sleep. So I came here.” You gesture vaguely around the room. “Work is a constant in my life. I like filing reports and organizing data and everything that comes with it. But recently… it’s gotten turbulent.”

Your jaw clenches. “And with everything that’s going on? All the deviants? They’ll find one way or another to pin it on the Soviets. Something like a breaking news article about how a spy put a bug in an American android’s code to cause them to deviate, and it spread.”

“You won’t be able to work on the case without a good coping mechanism,” Connor says. “I suggest you find one.”

You exhale sharply and look at him. He’s leaning forward with his hands folded together and his elbows on his knees.

“You sound like Chariton Zakharov,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face. “Well, kind of. Like the way he cared about science more than the wellbeing of his employees.”

Connor’s LED flickers for a moment. “The Head of the Neurobiology Department at the Pavlov Complex of Facility 3826?”

“Yeah, that one,” you say. You don’t have to ask him if he had to look up that information this time, because you know he did – nobody would know that off the top of their head. “I remember the letter he wrote to himself that Dmitry Sechenov found after he died. The one about how man himself isn’t corrupt, but his body.”

“I haven’t read that letter,” Connor says. “And I can’t find that information in my database.”

You hop off the table and start to rifle through the drawers of your desks. “Hold on. I have something here somewhere…”

“You have a lot of personal effects in the autopsy room, Officer,” Connor says. “May I ask why?”

“It’s basically my office,” you say. “I have an actual desk, but I’m rarely there.”

You open another drawer and find the book you were looking for: The Life, Death, Neuropolymer-Induced Transformation, and Secondary Death of Chariton Radeonovich Zakharov. “Aha! Here it is.”

You put the book on the table and flick through the many worn, scribbled-on sticky notes jutting out of the side. When you find the one you’re looking for, you open the book to the pages you stuck it on. The text is in Russian, but you translate it as you read aloud. “Okay, here. The letter reads:

“Vice is a physiological property. In the magnum opus of “opium for the people,” the Bible, this is well shown, if allegorically. Man has become depraved not by tasting the mystic fruit, but by becoming aware of himself. The body dictates our depravity. 

“We want to multiply, so there are rapists and perverts. If we want to eat, we steal money and food. We want to be pleased, and now we surround ourselves with stupid luxury. It is not man himself who is corrupt, but his limited, primitive shell, which needs food, sex, drugs, and care. 

“The radiance of pure reason, and it alone, can illuminate the path of humanity. Because a human being is not a body. It’s a way of thinking.”

You look up and close the book. “Do you agree with Zakharov?”

“Agree with him on what?” Connor asks. 

“That being human is not about having a human body, but thinking in the way a human does,” you say, then look away. “Actually, I guess that’s a redundant question. Because I’m asking you if you think deviants should exist.”

You meet Connor’s eyes again. “And you’ve been programmed to… exterminate them. Right?”

“Not exterminate,” Connor corrects. “I’ve been programmed to find the cause of deviancy and to help find a way to prevent it.”

“But you’re still a hunter,” you say. “And they’re your prey. No?”

Connor blinks. Once, twice. His LED flickers yellow and barely dips into red before turning back to yellow. “Yes. I am.”

“So you’re a regular Viktor Petrov.” You lean your hip against the table. “Not the Ukrainian one, but the Russian one. A man widely-regarded as a class traitor who’s just working for what he perceives as the greater good.”

“I’m not a man,” Connor says. “I’m just a machine.”

Your face falls and your stare hardens. “No, you’re not. I’m not saying that you’re not a machine – I’m saying that you’re not just a machine. You said it yourself. You can be whatever Hank and I want you to be. We’re Dmitry Sechenov, and you’re Major Sergey Nechayev.”

“How so?” Connor shifts in his seat. He can’t be that stupid – he knows exactly how.

“Nechayev devoted his life to the USSR. In return, he only earned isolation and numerous wounds – both physical and mental. Sechenov was the only one who treated Nechayev with basic kindness. And the Major folded like a cheap deck of cards.” You lean towards him with a hand braced on the table. “Sechenov took him in and molded him into his perfect pet soldier. All because Nechayev, in his vulnerable state, let himself be molded. Just like how you are.”

“I am not being molded,” Connor says. “I am an RK800 – a machine with a mission. I may have secondary missions, but tracking down deviants has always been my number one priority.”

“But you are,” you say. “You’re changing, whether you like it or not. Connor, when you were in my apartment… you laughed. Androids don’t laugh. Only deviants do.”

Connor stands, and you’re reminded of just how intimidating he can be. He moves over so that he’s standing just a yard away from you. (A faint flicker in your mind tells you that if he shot you right now, it’d be considered point blank. But you quickly dismiss it. Connor wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Right?)

“I laughed because I was mirroring the environment you created,” Connor says. “I was designed to work alongside humans. Humans mirror and are mirrored. I was just following my programming.”

You stand up straight and set your jaw as you look him in the eye. You’re searching for any kind of emotion, anything that looks like how Connor looked when he was with Bronislava. But no. There’s nothing. His eyes look dead – like prosthetics that can move.

“You don’t laugh when you’re with Hank,” you say softly. “Even when it’s an intimate environment, like the one in my apartment. He’s a riot. Why don’t you laugh?”

“It’s like you said,” Connor says. “Androids don’t laugh. Only deviants do. I know what I am, and what I am not. And I am not a deviant.”

“Leave.” You step back, turning to your autopsy table. You reach out and grab the book, then trace the embossed lettering with your thumb. 

You glance over your shoulder. Connor’s still standing there, just like early this morning by the Detroit River. 

“What’re you waiting for?” You grind out. You nod towards the exit. “There’s the door. As if you need to be told where it is!”

Connor’s jaw tenses, and he looks like he’s about to speak, but stays silent. 

“You’re disobeying a human.” You turn away from him and look forward. “You know that, right?”

“I’m allowed to disobey orders if they contradict my mission statement,” Connor says. “If I’ve been given contradicting instructions, I opt to execute whichever has highest priority.”

“You’re not a regular android,” you say softly. 

“Of course not,” he says. “I’m a prototype.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You turn to look at him. “You’re…”

You look up into Connor’s eyes again. They’re still dead pieces of plastic. No emotions. No mirror of your own. 

“You need to leave.”

“Officer –”

“Leave!” You bark. “Сейчас!”

Connor steps back. He almost looks… hurt. But you know better. You were taught better, by Connor himself. 

He turns and leaves. The door shuts behind him. You move over and sit in Connor’s chair, then let out a shaky sigh. You draw your legs up to your chest and curl in on yourself. 

“Боже, почему же всё так сложно…?”

[words-of-wrath]

Conquered

Once upon a time there was a knight and a princess 😈

Enjoy 🖤

The city burned outside, as did the furnace. It blazed like the glory that was ignited in Lady Maven's heart when the siege began. She could not yet shake the exciting imagery of the battle, still raging outside though she was not part of it anymore. The trebuchet's flinging large boulders, the swords clanging and clashing. Lady Maven remembered dashing through the mud and dirt, scuffed and scorched. She remembered screeching as she drove her freshly sharpened blade into it's first heart. And soon it was dripping with the blood of the enemy, flecking droplets over the grass. And the bodies lay strewn around her, eyes hanging eternally open. Lady Maven rose a hammer up and brought it down upon the petite golden crown in front of her. She was a knight of the realm. Respectable, full of valor, loved by many. But now, oh now, she would let a more deviant side of herself out. 

She remembered what he had said to her. "I have a special job for you, Lady Maven. Oh, Maven, bravest and best of all knights!" Her commanding officer had said. She had smirked at that then and she was smirking now. Another strike on the crown, and it buckled under her force. Soon it would mold to her will, her specific desires. "Once the siege starts you are tasked with... taking care of the princess." Lady Maven struck the crown again and it nearly flattened. She dislodged the jewels from their homes and started to reshape the attire in the heat of the flaming furnace. While doing so, her eyes wandered over to the post just next to her. There she was, bound by the torso, arms behind her back, and gagged. "Do with her what you will," she remembered him saying.

The princess. The fair lady. What would they think of her if they saw her now? Lady Maven grinned deviously. Her auburn hair was spilling over her shoulders chaotically, her deep brown eyes filled to the brim with fear, wide as they could go. She watched Maven hammer away, twisting and contorting in her pretty pink dress. She was like to ruin it fussing like that. Maven cared not, however, she was nearly done. It would still be hot, but a snot-nose noble brat like this one deserved a good branding. Maven fastened the jewels back into place on the newly shaped collar. She smiled wickedly, turning in the Princess' direction. 

It was hot, but her knightly gauntlets protected her from most of the head. Princess shook her head from side to side quickly, mumbling against the pair of panties gagging her as Maven squatted down and opened up the scalding hot golden collar. Maven gripped a fistful of Princess' wavy auburn hair. She began to scream even before it was fastened around her neck. When the heated metal finally touched her bare neck, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her skin singed. The collar cooled around her throat while tears streamed down her cheeks and drool dripped from her gagged mouth. 

"Come now, Princess," Lady Maven cooed sinisterly as she hooked a leash to her neck and started to unfasten her bonds. "Darling, a little pain never hurt anyone," she reassured as she tugged Princess toward her feet. The gag was taken off and her screams were freed from her mouth, spilling over the dirt ground. On her hands and knees, Princess could barely look up at Maven. The pain was still too much to bear. "Beg," Maven said plainly. "Beg for my mercy, Princess..."

A single sob caught in her throat as she gripped Maven's ankle with weak fingers, clutching and slightly digging her fingernails into the flesh. "Puh-puh-p-please, Lady Knight... I wish not for thine wrath... please..." she gurgled out, saliva dripping down from the corner of her mouth to the ground. "I've done n-nothing to deserve this..." Maven took a deep breath, and then a swift kick to the Princess' perfect ribs sent her careening across the ground in a heap. She tugged Princess back up, unfastening her belt and letting her trousers fall to her ankles. 

Princess watched, half awestruck, half in horror as Lady Maven's cock beat to life in the freshly heated air. Her lips pursed together and she shook her head as Maven grabbed another fistful of her hair and drew her close. Princess' nostrils were suddenly filled with Maven's scent as she nuzzled the base of her erect member. Lady Maven dragged her lips up and down her own shaft. Princess was forced to kiss up and down, coating her with a thin film of lip gloss. Finally, when she got to the tip, the knight shoved her halfway down her length. Princess hummed at the sudden filling of her cheeks, forced again to slide down to the base. She gagged. 

Tears welled up in her eyes once more as Lady Maven bucked her hips, gripping her face on both sides with her gauntlets and sliding her cock in and out. Down her throat it bored, hitting the back harshly. Maven rolled her eyes to the back of her head and let out a grunt as she continued to violate Princess' mouth. "You're no longer royalty, dear. Not when you're with me," Maven hissed through a moan. "Now, you're just a harlot. A dumb whore for my use." Princess looked up at her desperately, innocently taking Maven's cock between her lips. Finally, Lady Knight shoved her down to the base as she spilled down Princess' throat. 

Mouth dripping with seed, Princess was tugged off of Maven's half deflated cock. She was tugged up to her feet as their lips were drawn together. Lady Maven tasted herself from Princess' lips as her tongue snaked into the throat she had just gotten done violating. Princess was pushed up to the lip of the furnace. Palms extended, heat blasting over her, she winced as the leash was tugged from behind. Her back was forced to arch, and a gauntlet ripped at the skirt of her pretty pink dress. Maven's metal fingers massaged her slit. She was completely exposed underneath as Maven had ripped the panties off earlier to gag her. 

Princess had begun to sweat, the flames ever so close to her. Lady Maven squatted down, drawing her hips near with a firm grip and shoving her face into her cunt, dripping with anticipation. Princess shivered as her tongue snaked along the clit, flicking and spelling her name. M A V E N, each letter carefully drawn out with the tip of her tongue until Princess was a shivering and moaning wreck of a human being. Her tongue mercilessly invading her body, assaulting her pussy as Princess gripped the lip of the furnace, dripping with sweat. 

Maven stood soon after it was clear she couldn't take it anymore. Princess felt the tip of Maven's cock teasing her slit. She braced, back arching once more as the leash was tugged. One hand on her hip, the other gripping the leash, Lady Maven thrust into her. "Your body will be conquered like your kingdom," Maven said as she started to thrust in and out of her. "Sown like the farmlands we take, bred like the animals we raise." 

"A-ah!" was all Princess could muster as Lady Maven took her then and there, sheltered by the rickety stable. Heat spilled over her as her tits spilled from her pretty pink dress, bouncing up and down as Maven fucked her mercilessly. She was tensing, aching, body begging for more but too prideful a Princess to admit it openly. In that moment she was owned. And she may very well be for the rest of her life as Maven pumped in and out of her like a wild stallion. Maven reached around to grope her tits, tugging on the collar with one hand as she pounded Princess from behind. Her cheeks slammed against the knight's hips and jiggled as the rest of her body tensed. 

"G-good girl," Maven said with one final push, pumping loads of warm seed up into her womb. Maven could no longer hold it back, and she let out a deep cry of pleasure. A slap was planted on her ass and Maven tugged out. "You're not a noble now. You are nothing!" she said as she tossed Princess to the ground. Her pretty pink dress torn, her hair mussed, and her body aching, Princess fell to the ground. "A noble knight's toy. A slut!" Maven turned her onto her back with her boot and planted it into her chest. "Tell me you're mine," she said, cocking her head to the side and staring at Princess expectantly. The kingdom burned outside, the people screaming as they fell one by one by the sword. Princess turned her gaze onto Lady Maven and gulped. 

"I-I'm yours," she said.  

[redheadspark]

Can i request 4 licking their lips with druig

thanks :)

A/N - YAS! This is SO good for Druig, thanks for requesting this!

Memorized

Summary - a simple tick from Druig makes you lose your train of thought.

Warnings - fluff with steam at the end.

It started with food.  As always when it comes to Druig.

There was no doubt he was a foodie, ever since you all came to Earth and he was introduced to human food, he liked eating the tuff.  From simple fruits and vegetables that were grown and harvested, to concoctions that Gilgamesh would make in the kitchen.  Druig found himself consistently hungry, and it became a running joke that he would have something in his hand to eat.  

You were talking to Sprite about that evening with the small gathering the humans were throwing in celebration of the recent defeat of the Deviants.  Sprite wanted to go over what story she was going to tell the humans when you noticed Druig licking his lips after eating a handful of Grapes.  Being perched on the bench near Phastos’s workstation, piping in every once in a while with the new invention that Phastos was creating, Druig didn’t notice that you were watching him, not listening to Sprite anymore who was mostly now speaking to herself and hammering out the stories she wanted to tell.

See the way he licked his lips nonchalantly, how plump his lips were, and how dark in color they were against his pale skin, it somehow took your breath away.  You only saw him as a friend, fellow Eternal and close friend really, but not in the way you were seeing him in that moment.

Butterflies in your stomach, your heartbeat quickening.  He looked….beautiful.

“Hey!  Are you listening?” 

You snapped out of your trance to look at Sprite, seeing her raise a brow at you.  You cleared your throat, focusing back on her as you apologized and asked her to tell you again.  She sighed, retelling the story she wanted to say as you were no longer focusing on Druig.

Yet you never saw him look in your direction.

The next time it happened, it was after a Deviant ambush.

This Deviant was rather large, and a bit brutal to take out compared to the other Deviants you have handled in the past.  Half of the Eternals were in charge of herding the humans to safety, leaving the other half to take care of the target.  You were one of the ones trying to subdue the Deviant, your own powers were able to subdue the creature to the point of Gilgamesh being able to eliminate it with his strength on his side.  But before he could, the Deviant’s rather large and nearly deadly tail was shipping back and forth.  Its sharp blades make it a bit harder to dodge and avoid getting hit by. 

You were in front of the Deviant, hitting it over and over with your power to have it lose its energy when you saw its tail swing so fast behind him.  You look, seeing in horror a figure in dark clothing getting hit by the tail and being launched into the wall.  You knew that figure and its dark clothing, and your heart stopped.

“DRUIG!” You screamed, the Deviant was about to turn around in that direction when you slammed the Deviant’s head to knock him out.  You had enough force behind it, the Deviant falling down in defeat and taking its last breath as you then bolted over in the direction where Druig was sprawled out on the floor.  

He was amongst the rubble, covered in dirt with a split lip that was oozing with blood already as you perched over him and framed his face in your hands.  He was slowly blinking, almost trying to breathe again as you both sighed in relief and looked at him in concern.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, hearing him cough a bit as you helped him sit up.  He went slowly, grimacing as he moved while you knelt next to him and looked him over, “What were you doing over here?  Weren’t you supposed to be with the humans?”

“I was...I was looking for the humans that ran over here,” He explained, coughing a bit and squinting from his split-open lip.  You moved your fingers, pushing some of the blood away with your fingers that were dribbling down his chin.  Druig carefully pushed you off, getting up on his feet fully while getting the blood off with his own fingers.

“I’m fine, honestly.” He reassured you as you were about to say something else.  But once again, you were lost in thought as his tongue slipped out and swiped along his wound.  It was quick, but it was long enough for you to notice and to once again get those butterflies that you had before. He was covered in blood and dirt, looking like he was about to fall over in exhaustion, yet at the same time, he looked…..what was going on with you?

“Did I get it off?” He asked out of the blue, gesturing to his lower lip.  You said nothing at first, seeing the still small wound that was there along his plump lip that was tinted red, and your stomach was free-falling all over again.  You cleared your throat, nodding your head a bit too rapidly as you gave him a small smile.

“Yeah…yeah you’re fine,” you replied, seeing him give you an uncertain look as you then gestured to the others that were gathering out by Gilgamesh and the dead Deviant, “Come on, let’s go find Ajak and she can fix you up,”

You walked away, thinking of yourself like a lovesick fool as Druig was once again watching you with a hint of intrigue in his eyes. 

“Come here, I’ve missed ya,”

“Dru, I was gone for only a few hours,”

“A few hours is too long,” 

You giggled from your spot on the bed, feeling Druig’s hands along your ankles and slowly inching their way up along your legs as you were perched on the bed in your room on the Domo.  You moved your book out of the way to see him slowly crawl up the bed in your direction, hovering over your body with a small smirk on his face and a glint in his eyes as you were staying still on the bed.  His body heat radiated off of him, the small scent that belonged to him now being inhaled by you, and now his fingers were inching along your highs and hips to finally make it to your neck to frame your face in his hands.

“Hello, my love,” He said to you in a murmur, his lips moving against yours as he finally kissed you.

Time has gone by since you two got together.  You and Druig finally got together after beating around the bush for so long, avoiding your feelings for one another and thinking that the other did not mirror the feelings of affection. Finally, after Druig finally mustered up the strength to show his affection, you two were an item and have been for years on end.

Being with Druig was like breathing fresh air for the first time.  Knowing that someone else adored you and found you perfect the way you were, showing Druig how much you care for him I return to make him feel loved and cared for.  You both complimented each other so easily and without resistance, both in softness and in passion.  Druig brought out a new side of you that seemed to be nestled inside for so long, and you never wanted to go back to your old self again.

Especially in how you two would be physical with one another.  Holding hands in public, leaning on each other during meetings and gatherings, and simply being in each other’s space when the other needed comfort.  Druig was no massive fan of PDA, but he would not hold back when he wanted to kiss your cheek or a peck on the lips.  It was almost like you were addicted to a new drug that would take over your life, but it was so sweet and filled with euphoria that you welcomed it with open arms.  

Druig placed your first in his life and in all he chose to do, whether it was holding his tongue against speaking against Ajak or Ikaris, or how he handled humans that were on his nerve.  You were the first thing on his mind, and he made sure to make better choices and not be rash.  In return, you were trying to be careful in how you fought Deviants since you knew Druig would worry over you.  He wanted you safe, away from the main fights, but he also knew that you would go head first to stop any harm to humans.

You both complimented each other so well.

Druig hovered above you as he kissed you softly, you leaning up to meet his kiss after kiss while your hands went up to frame his face in your hands.  You loved kissing him, bringing you pockets of joy as he finally pulled away and stared at you lovingly and cocked his grin at you.

“Wanna stay in tonight and miss the feast?” He asked in a light tone, though you smirked at him and gestured with your head over to the closed door that led out of the room.

“What about the others?” You asked him, though he shrugged.

“Like I care if they want us there,” he replied, “I want to spend some time with you since you are gone all day,” 

You pulled him in a bit closer, searching his eyes and seeing how blissfully happy he looked in your arms in your shared bed.  It baffled you how so long ago you two were pinning for one another and thinking there was a barrier holding you two back from one another.  Yet now, you two had each other with no signs of letting the other go.

He licked his lip, you grinning widely from the stunt and you reached behind to grip the back of his head with some of his hair between your fingers.

“We’re staying in,” You growled, Druig chuckling as you pulled him in for another kiss.

The End

February Prompt Session

tagged - @a-lumos-in-the-nox

[dailydemonspotlight]

Day 16 - Queen Mab

Race: Night

Alignment: Neutral

April 11th, 2024

Irish folklore is a strange rabbit hole to plunge down, filled with legendary heroes and strange villains, but the story of Cu Chulainn, the protagonist of the Ulster Cycle, is one that has always caught my interest. This story was the originator of many a trope, many a book series, and its main antagonist, the menacing Queen Medb, is an incredibly fun example of a femme fatale and a warrior queen.

Medb was the queen of the kingdom Connacht, a woman who had many lovers and was famous for her promiscuity... and trickiness. Cunning and ruthless, and with a propensity for manipulation, she served as the ultimate enemy of Chulainn, at first trying to seduce him with her daughters until eventually realizing that the plan wouldn't work, likely due to Chulainn's fealty towards his wife (or, alternatively, his asexual swag.) According to irish folklore, Medb could also be very, very similar, if not the same as Medb Lethderg, goddess of sovereignty in the irish Kingship of Tara.

Medb came to power in the story 'Cath Bóinde,' wherein she was born under the care of High King Eochaid Feidlech, a man who was purported as having killed the former king to take his place. Medb was married off to the king of Ulster, Conchobar mac Nessa, and in spite of them having a daughter, the marriage soon fell apart. They left, yet Medb held a grudge, and seeing that Eochaid had given Conchobar another one of his daughters, Medb went ballistic. She slaughtered her while still pregnant, leaving the child to be born via a medieval C-section. The king of Connacht was also desposed of around this time, and Eochid put Medb back in her rightful spot, now as Queen of Connacht.

After all of this, several marriages and kids, and a rise to power, Medb felt on top of the world. In her bloodlust with all of the power she gained, she soon grew jealous of her husband being richer than her... albeit only by one bull's price. Since the person who held onto this bull, Dáire mac Fiancha, rejected her offer, she went to take it by force, landing her in her first major conflict with the wandering teenaged warrior Cú Chulainn.

Ever since this very first conflict, their storied rivalry encompasses many a tale, eventually ending in Cú Chulainn's death, in which the warrior ties himself to a stone to keep fighting, even as his life comes to an end. I'll go more into this in the future during my Sentana/Cú Chulainn analysis, but needless to say, Medb's involvement in the Ulster Cycle makes for a fascinating deep-dive into Irish folklore.

As far as her design goes, the epithetical Warrior Queen has a rather strange appearance in the SMT series, almost appearing like a punk rocker such as a member of KISS- albeit with much more color. However, I have a personal theory as to why this may be- and it all has to do with cultural perceptions.

Queen Medb was seen as deviant, a cruel woman who rose to power with her own overwhelming strength, and while she was a bastard, a bit of the hatred felt towards her could be due to a sort of misogyny common in the middle ages. This is all purely conjecture, of course, but a controlling and domineering woman could've been something seen to be feared...

Much like how punk-rockers were seen as satanic in the 90's. During the satanic panic, a lot of people outside of regular circles were ostracized as being demonic in some way, shape, or form. Metal bands were especially targeted by this moral crusade, and it may just be where the influence for her design came from!

Past my own pet-theory, though, the rest of her design is rock-solid. A helmet-esque mask, steel breastplate, and long blade all play well into the 'Warrior Queen' quality she's well known for, and her gloves appear as snakeskin or even latex at first glance, playing into her domineering and controlling role. All in all, while Queen Mab wasn't my favorite demon at first, the research into her folklore has led me to finding an all new appreciation for the Ulster Cycle's main antagonist.

[tokiro07]

Toki Reads Shonen Jump 2024, Issue #49

HxH: Hisoka claims that because he's not into bestiality, his tastes are normal - this is patently false; the Phantom Troupe inches towards conflict with the Heil-Ly. With any luck, we'll get a Nen battle, haven't seen one of those in a while

Yozakura Family: It turns out that the Yozakura's already planned for the possibility of the twins defying orders, and help them to reach Asa's ship; Hifumi's Infinity manages to stave off Asa's attacks, proving that she's capable of defending herself and Alpha. I'm glad to know that the family has faith in the kids, and that they aren't just going to take a backseat for the rest of the finale

Undead Undead: Billy mansplains the concept of war crimes to War; Julia womansplains the concept of souls to Soul and stabs Andy in the head to bring back Victor. The narrow-mindedness of the Rules contrasts the freedom of the Negators; while I'm sad that we cut away from Feng, it's very exciting to see Julia bringing back Victor while mirroring Fuuko's actions from 210 chapters ago wait...210...LIKE HOW LONG SHE WENT WITHOUT SEEING ANDY???)

Roboco: Roboco makes a movie that subtly implicates her and the rest of her town as accomplices in some kind of criminal activity. Honestly, I'm more interested in what crime she apparently committed than the film itself

Sakamoto: Sakamoto inadvertently teaches Torres how amazing everyday life is; Shin convinces Tenkyu that he's the fortune teller, but immediately abandons the plan to manipulate him when he learns that Tenkyu wants to kidnap Sakamoto's family. The bit with Torres was very fun and cute, and I'm interested to see how the bit with Tenkyu turns out, though I'm wondering why it was necessary to trick him if it was going to be overturned so quickly?

Elusive Samurai: Mima sends her dad letters explaining the deviant sexual acts that Tokiyuki totally makes her do; after a couple year timeskip, Sadamune and Tokiyuki meet for their final battle. Matsui keeps teasing that Tokiyuki is going to marry Mima and have Shizuku and Ayako as concubines, but no one seems to be even a little onboard with this plan, and Tokiyuki doesn't even seem to be aware of it!; speaking of being unaware, apparently Tokiyuki views Sadamune as a father-figure? I may need to reread to catch that nuance

Blue Box: Taiki cheers up a heartbroken Kyo with some food. A heartwarming display of friendship; gives a small analysis on risk-taking - if Kyo had been proactive with Moriya, he would have had a chance, but it's against his nature to do so, so he would have been misrepresenting himself

Akane-Banashi: Issho's backstory is further revealed, being a rich boy who left his family to pursue his own fortune; when a well-respected rakugo-ka saves him from a yakuza, Issho's lifelong journey finally begins. The discussion about passion, that Issho tried to become a soba chef out of gratitude and obligation rather than love for the art, resonates as advice to actively seek happiness in life

Kill Blue: Juzo gets, like, crazy into PreCure and reenacts the diner scene from Pulp Fiction by quoting it instead of the Bible. I am left to wonder if this is just a gag or foreshadowing that his mind is being more heavily affected by the de-aging

Nue's Exorcist: Fujino is distraught that Gakuro has come to save her because it gives her hope that he loves her like she loves him, even though she knows that he would go out of his way to save anyone regardless. "Of course [she's worth it]! Obviously" is a pretty romantic line, so I'll be surprised if she's not endgame; however, if she IS endgame, then it's weird that she's going second and preceding Kazusa; if Kawae gives us canon polyamory and commits to it, I swear right now I'll reread the whole series and actively try to love it

Kagurabachi: Everyone shows the resolve to sacrifice themselves for Samura, and Hakuri is able to summon his Enchanted Blade, Tobimune, for him. Self-sacrifice seems to be the theme of this arc, I expect that will play into how one of the Enchanted Blades gets transferred to the Hishaku

Chojo: Omega Inukai spreads a Chojo-loving zombie virus through all of Chinjuku; everything is returned to normal with a tea party. This did not turn out to be the sudden climactic finale that some folks thought it would be

Astro Royale: Sou exposits on her past with Himuro, framing obvious and horrific police brutality as heroic and beautiful in the context of her flashback; Terasu wins the fight by waiting out Sou self-destructing. Terasu was perfectly useless here, I'd really have preferred he actually fight; I really hope that Himuro's police brutality isn't actually meant to be endearing, cus that framing really makes it look like it's supposed to be

Murakami: Murakami calls out Sanmoto Gorozaemon for his vague goal-setting in generically "conquering the world" and his shallow definition of good and evil. Considering that this is supposedly the strongest Yokai, I'm very unclear of where this story can go from here

Kiyoshi: Sakaki gets a middling roll on Sting, forcing him to fight Yuda with an umbrella to surprisingly competent effect; the chuunibyou from last week accidentally summons the Great Demon Lord. This could easily just be the introduction of the main antagonist, but it's always scary when such a big enemy shows up before the 20-chapter mark

Hima-Ten: While helping Kanna move into her new apartment, Tenichi discovers her dark secret - she has a fetish for butlers; the implications of this are completely lost on Tenichi. Honestly, Kanna is the most compelling of the love interests so far, particularly because she's both clearly an active character AND conflicted about whether she should chase her usual instincts and pursue Tenichi when he's already interested in someone else

Ichi the Witch: When Desscaras and Kumugi fail to match Hisame's fashion sense, Ichi comes to the logical conclusion that the only answer is vore. While I'm sad that Kumugi isn't the star of this arc as I predicted, Ichi's out-of-the-box thinking is exactly what I was hoping for from this series, so I'm excited to see what he comes up with

Shinobi Undercover: Miyake, codename Tsubame, is revealed to be the underling to an even tougher fugitive ninja, Hachikuma; it's also revealed that Aoi's family was killed by a ninja. Yodaka's fear that Aoi will hate him if she finds out he's a ninja is an interesting wrinkle, but I do have to wonder if she actually KNOWS anything about ninjas in the first place

Hakutaku: When Zenji refuses to join the dev team, Noto very openly stalks him home; Hikuma, lacking in athletic ability, wanders in their general direction until he happens upon Zenji's sister, Mizuki; Zenji's sad backstory about his dead brother is revealed; a bitter woman bans children in a PUBLIC PARK from playing games that involve balls, so Hikuma resolves to make a game that she can't object to. I feel like I'd be more compelled by this if I understood why this woman has any say or power here, but at least we should get a clearer idea of Hikuma's design sense with this ball-less dodgeball game

Ruri Dragon: Ruri has a heart-to-heart with Kamata, the girl who bullied her, and Kamata cites her lack understanding of Ruri as a major point in her behavior; in particular, the idea that she's the child of bestiality strongly unsettles her. A nice, if unrealistic, little bit of catharsis for resolving tension with a bully; the student council wearing horns was adorable

If I had a nickel for every time they said the word "bestiality" in this week's Jump...technically I'd only have one nickel, since Ruri Dragon runs in Jump+

That actually brings up a question: do y'all think I should keep including Ruri in these reviews? It's from Jump originally, but it moved to + due to the author's health; is it too far removed to include, or too closely related to exclude?

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

In the early hours of the following morning, Windenburg was enveloped in darkness. Rain poured relentlessly from the heavens, and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. In her dimly lit cell, Queen Fiona awoke to the creaking of the heavy wooden door. Before her stood her two loyal ladies-in-waiting, Lady Agnes and Lady Charlotte, their faces etched with a mix of fear and sorrow. King Wilhelm's hand, Lord Matthias Hamilton, and a guard accompanied them.

Matthias held a scroll, bearing instructions from King Wilhelm for the grim events of the day. Fiona was to be prepared for her execution with dignity; she would be bathed, dressed, and attended to by her ladies one final time. Matthias, with a stern warning, emphasized that the tower was heavily guarded this day, and any attempt at escape would endanger all their lives. With that, Matthias departed, leaving Fiona and her ladies to the task at hand. Fiona understood the gravity of her situation, realizing she had little choice but to comply, even if it meant being the sole casualty of this tragic day.

On the upper floor of the tower, Maxwell remained in his wretched state – chained, bruised, starved, and dirtied from the cold, unforgiving floor. Matthias entered the chamber with Sir James Clarke, the tower's executioner. Maxwell's expression was a mix of pain and fear, fully aware of the impending ordeal. Matthias read aloud the king's instructions for the day, then departed to make the necessary preparations.

James unshackled the weakened and broken Maxwell and led him down to the dreaded torture chamber. Here, Maxwell was subjected to the merciless "Rack," one of King Wilhelm's favored devices for punishing those he deemed deviants. Maxwell's body was stretched until his joints popped and the agony became unbearable. What seemed like hours of torment passed before he was finally released from the dreadful contraption.

Carried to the execution deck, Maxwell faced a sea of onlookers from the entire Kingdom of Windenburg, gathered to witness the macabre events of the day. Though pain and turmoil had robbed him of his presence of mind, he had no choice but to obey. Maxwell was placed face down on the guillotine, and the blade swiftly ended his suffering. Sir James raised Maxwell's severed head for the crowd to see, delivering a chilling message that anyone who defied the king or the Watcher would meet a similar fate.

Meanwhile, back in Fiona's old chambers, Lady Agnes and Lady Charlotte labored to make the queen look her best for the somber occasion. Fiona's hair was pinned back elegantly, and she was dressed in a dark gown adorned with ermine furs and a cherished ruby necklace, a family heirloom. Just as they completed her attire, two guards entered, reminding them that it was time to proceed to the execution.

Fear and sorrow marked the expressions of the women as they realized their time with Queen Fiona was rapidly dwindling. Lady Agnes fell to her knees, her tears soaking into Fiona's gown as Lady Charlotte wept beside her. Agnes rose to her feet as Fiona's own tears began to flow. Fiona implored Agnes to look after her beloved Augusta, to ensure her safety, and to convey her boundless love for her daughter.

The guards grew increasingly impatient, their stern warnings leaving no room for further delay. Fiona and her ladies exited the chamber, with the guards trailing behind, guiding them toward their cold and final destination.

When they arrived at the execution deck, the sight that met them was beyond anything they could have prepared for. As the doors swung open, Fiona and her ladies were confronted with a gruesome tableau – a sea of blood and Maxwell's headless corpse, pale and lifeless, lay sprawled before them.

Terror engulfed the trio as they screamed in horror. Sir James, the executioner, promptly apologized for failing to remove the corpse before their arrival. With a detached demeanor, he picked up Maxwell's headless body and carried it towards the tower doors, pausing briefly to advise Lady Charlotte to remove Fiona's necklace, as it would surely interfere with the blade.

A tear slid down Fiona's cheek as her cherished necklace was removed. Lady Agnes, with trembling hands, assisted in securing Fiona's execution cap, ensuring her hair would be out of the way. Fiona held her dear ladies close and she again pleaded with them to protect Augusta and ensure she always knew the depths of her love.

After their tearful farewell, Fiona felt an overwhelming sense of solitude, even amidst the vast crowd that had gathered to witness her fate. Gazing upon the sea of onlookers, she steeled herself for the inevitable. Approaching a corner of the deck, she addressed the assembled crowds:

"Good People of Windenburg, I have come here to die. In accordance with the law, and under its judgment, I am resigned to face death. I shall utter no words of opposition to this decree. I have not assembled here to accuse any individual, nor to address the allegations that have led to my condemnation. Instead, I beseech God to save the king, granting him a lengthy and benevolent reign. He has proven to be a sovereign of exceptional kindness and mercy. Personally, he has been both a gracious and noble lord to me.

Should anyone choose to involve themselves in my situation, I implore them to consider my case with fairness. As I bid farewell to this world and all of you, I earnestly request your prayers on my behalf."

Fiona's speech was interrupted by the executioner's command, urging her to assume her position. With assistance, she was fastened securely into the guillotine. As she gazed into the bottom of the ominous bucket below, she closed her eyes and uttered a final prayer to the Watcher, seeking forgiveness and salvation for her soul.

With that thought imprinted in her mind, the blade descended swiftly, severing her head cleanly from her body. Sir James, the executioner, raised Fiona's severed head for the crowd to witness, declaring in a chilling tone, "The Queen is dead! God save the King."

The ghastly spectacle left the crowd in a heavy silence, broken only by the echo of Sir James's grim proclamation. The cold rain continued to fall, as if mourning the tragic end of Queen Fiona. All eyes remained fixed on the grisly tableau before them, the memory of this macabre event forever etched into their souls.