#me on my way to fight the kids on the playground for the swing

[witchfinderlieutenanttable]

[inkspiredwriting]

Playground Pandemonium

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I imagine that five would be a great dad. But I also think that he is insecure and is sometimes afraid of becoming just like Reginald. What do you think?

Warnings: None

It was a rare sunny Saturday afternoon, and Five Hargreeves had finally found a day to spend entirely with his wife Y/n and their four-year-old daughter Maddie. They decided to make the most of it by visiting the local playground. Y/n, ever the planner, packed a picnic basket full of Maddie’s favorite snacks, while Five’s contribution was ensuring they arrived early enough to grab the best spot.

As they walked hand in hand through the park, Five scanned the area. “I haven’t been to a playground since, well, ever,” he admitted.

Y/n laughed, squeezing his hand. “You missed out on a quintessential part of childhood, Five. But don’t worry, Maddie will show you the ropes.”

Maddie, bouncing ahead of them with an infectious energy, turned around and called, “Come on, Daddy! You’re gonna love the swings!”

Maddie made a beeline for the swings, and Five found himself being roped into pushing her. “Higher, Daddy! Higher!” she shrieked with delight.

Five, slightly uncertain but determined not to disappoint, gave her a solid push. Maddie soared into the air, laughing gleefully.

“Careful, Five,” Y/n warned, settling on a nearby bench with a watchful eye. “We don’t want her launching into space.”

Five smirked, “I’ve seen worse launches.” He gave Maddie another push, but this time, his mind wandered to a particularly explosive time-travel incident.

Distracted, he pushed a bit too hard. Maddie shrieked—not in delight, but in mild terror—as she swung higher than intended. “Whoa! Okay, not that high!”

Y/n stifled a laugh as Five, looking mortified, rushed to catch the swing on its way back. “Sorry, kiddo,” he said, steadying her. “Daddy’s still learning the basics.”

Maddie giggled, her fear quickly forgotten. “It’s okay, Daddy. Just don’t push me into the future!”

After the swing incident, Maddie led them to the sandbox, where she promptly began constructing an elaborate sandcastle. Five and Y/n joined in, Five more reluctantly.

“Why does this remind me of building fortifications during the apocalypse?” Five muttered as he helped shape a sand wall.

Y/n chuckled. “Probably because you’re overthinking it. Just have fun!”

Maddie, her tongue poking out in concentration, sculpted a turret. “Look, Daddy! A tower!”

Five nodded, actually impressed. “Nice work, Maddie. It’s almost as secure as some of the bunkers I’ve seen.”

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “Maybe we can skip the part where it gets blown up by time-traveling assassins.”

As they worked, a group of kids approached, drawn by the impressive sandcastle. One boy, clearly the sandbox bully, sneered at their work. “That’s a silly castle,” he said, kicking sand at the base.

Five bristled, ready to give the kid a stern talking-to, but Y/n put a calming hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Five. Let Maddie handle it.”

Maddie stood up, glaring at the boy. “My Daddy can travel through time and fight bad guys. What can your daddy do?”

The boy, taken aback, mumbled something about his dad being a lawyer and scampered off. Five chuckled, giving Maddie a high five. “That’s my girl.”

Y/n called them over to the picnic blanket for snacks. As they sat down, Maddie’s excitement was palpable. “Can I have a juice box, Mommy?”

Y/n handed Maddie a juice box and gave Five a sandwich. “Try not to eat it too quickly,” she teased. “We don’t have a lot of supplies here.”

Five took a bite, nodding appreciatively. “Better than cockroaches.”

Just as they were settling in, a squirrel darted towards the picnic blanket, clearly eyeing their food. Maddie squealed, and Five immediately went into protective mode.

“Back off, rodent!” Five growled, standing up to chase the squirrel away.

The squirrel, unperturbed, grabbed a stray cookie and scampered up a tree. Five glared after it, shaking his fist. “This isn’t over!”

Y/n laughed, pulling him back down to the blanket. “I think we’ll survive without one cookie.”

Maddie, giggling, took a sip of her juice box. “Daddy, you’re so funny when you’re mad.”

Five sat down with a huff, brushing off the dirt. “I’m glad someone thinks so.”

The playground centerpiece was a tall slide, and Maddie insisted that her parents try it with her. Five eyed the slide warily. “Are you sure about this? I mean, what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’ Five,” Y/n interrupted, grabbing his hand. “It’ll be fun!”

They climbed the ladder, Maddie leading the way. At the top, Five hesitated. “This is higher than it looks.”

Y/n, already halfway down the slide with Maddie, called back, “Don’t chicken out now!”

With a resigned sigh, Five sat at the top of the slide. “Here goes nothing.” He pushed off, the slide’s angle steeper than expected. As he hurtled down, his typically composed expression twisted into one of surprise.

He shot off the end of the slide, landing in an undignified heap on the ground. Maddie burst into laughter, running over to help him up. “That was awesome, Daddy!”

Y/n, laughing so hard she had tears in her eyes, helped him stand. “See? Fun!”

Five dusted himself off, trying to maintain some dignity. “Maybe for you.”

As the sun began to set, the Hargreeves family packed up their picnic and headed home. Maddie, tired from her day of adventure, held each of her parents’ hands, swinging between them.

“That was the best day ever!” she declared, beaming up at them.

Five, despite his usual stoicism, smiled down at her. “I’m glad you had fun, Maddie.”

Y/n leaned her head on Five’s shoulder as they walked. “You know, for someone who’s never been to a playground, you did pretty well.”

Five chuckled. “Well, I had a good teacher.”

As they reached their car, Maddie climbed into her seat, already half-asleep. Five and Y/n shared a look, both of them tired but happy.

“Same time next week?” Five asked, a twinkle in his eye.

Y/n laughed, kissing his cheek. “Absolutely. As long as you promise not to get into a fight with any more squirrels.”

Five grinned. “No promises.”

As the Hargreeves family drove home, the playground behind them, they couldn't help but smile. It was the perfect blend of laughter, love, and just a bit of Hargreeves-style mayhem.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

Summary: A baby shower has you reuniting with Eddie (and Harris). Unbeknownst to Eddie, it's right when he'll need you most--but is he ready to forgive?

Warnings: mention of pregnancy, small allusion to sex, mentions of Grandma Sweetheart's death, mentions of learning disability

WC: 7.4k

Chapter 11/20

Divider credit to @saradika

Mid-January in Hawkins is cold, with temperatures in the mid-30s, but a bundled-up Harris Munson is unfazed. Eddie happily watches as his son practically flies across the empty playground and heads straight for the swingset. In the warmer weather, it’s a coveted spot amongst the kids and usually ends in a battle, but the chill in the air means that Harris doesn’t have to fight for a turn. 

“Daddy! Uncle Jeff!” he calls out, voice muffled by the blue scarf securely wrapped around the lower half of his face, “come push me!”

Jeff laughs with a shake of his head as he and Eddie trudge across the frost-covered grass. “You heard the man.”

“Ready to have a little gremlin of your own?” Eddie teases, hoisting Harris onto the swing, making sure his bottom is squared on the rubber surface. He catches a glimpse of the baby swing to his right, and his heart pangs at the memory of Harris being tiny enough to fit in there. “Lemme tell ya, it goes by quick. The days are long but the years are short.”

Jeff just gives a little nod, and Eddie can tell that he doesn’t quite believe him. “I’m serious, man. And all that stuff they say about not knowing what love is until you have kids? Man, I thought that was the biggest crock of shit. Like, of course I know what love is! I love my music, my uncle, even you guys,” he adds with a gleam in his eyes, referring to his former bandmates. “And then Harris was born, and I was like, ‘holy shit, this is what it means to love someone.’” He positions himself behind the swing, giving Harris another big push before stepping aside to let Jeff have a turn. 

Jeff looks at him incredulously. Eddie Munson is no stranger to a good rant, but never one this vulnerable. He’s speechless for a moment before clearing his throat. “Th-Thanks, Ed,” he manages, offering the white paper bag he’d picked up on the way to the playground. “Y’still like peanut butter creme donuts, right?”

“Hell yes!” Eddie cheers, pumping his fist in excitement. He reaches into the bag and pulls out the chocolate frosted confection, taking a huge bite triumphantly. “‘M tellin’ ya: Em and Abi’s Gourmet Donuts is the best thing about this town,” he exclaims with a mouthful of peanutty filling. 

“Really?” Jeff chuckles, taking a honeycomb donut from the bag. “Better than a certain preschool teacher you may or may not be infatuated with?”

A blush creeps into Eddie’s cheeks, and he hopes he can pass it off as a reaction to the winter winds. “Not in front of…” he trails off, jerking his head in the direction of his son. 

“Got it, got it,�� Jeff smoothly agrees, but he still presses the topic in a roundabout way. “But, uh, any luck with that?”

“Nope,” Eddie cuts him off. “I’ve just been giving her space like you said, but she hasn’t reached out or asked about tutoring again.” He shrugs as though it doesn’t bother him, but both he and Jeff know that that can’t be further from the truth. 

Jeff gives Harris a big push, smiling when he hears the boy’s giggle. “You haven’t called or anything?” he asks. 

“Once, after I saw her during drop-off.” Eddie admits, twisting the ring on his pinky finger. “Left a message but she never called back.”

He plays it back in his head, a constant loop that he’d practically memorized before relaying it to your answering machine. As much as he wanted to resolve everything sooner rather than later, he was embarrassingly relieved when he’d heard your outgoing message. Still, the sweetness of your recorded voice was honeyed tea on a dreary day, and he didn’t anticipate his breath to hitch when it played. 

“H-Hey, Sweetheart. Shit, can I call you that? Um, anyway, give me a call when you can. I think we should talk.”

The two men take turns pushing Harris and chasing him around the playground. At one point, Harris makes his way to the pole, painted school bus yellow. He reaches out with two chubby hands, but his feet stay grounded on the platform. “‘M scared,” he whimpers, still clinging to the pole. 

“You got this, Mini Munson!” Jeff cheers, frowning when Harris remains in place. “Tell ya what: if you slide down the pole, I’ll make your dad do it, too.” He grins mischievously, and Eddie would discreetly flip him the bird if he didn’t have a better alternative. 

“Yeah, bud, and then Uncle Jeff will go after me.” He mouths a silent ha at his friend, but neither seem to mind. 

And after a few seconds of deliberation, Harris flings his body forward and slowly makes his way down, hands squeaking along the metal.

“I did it!” he announces triumphantly, turning to Eddie. “Your turn, Daddy!”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, but a smile dances on his lips. He darts up the jungle gym steps and hangs onto the pole. He could simply put his feet down and touch the ground, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, he lets out a high-pitched, “wheeeee!” as Harris cackles loudly. 

He claps Jeff on the back once his shoes touch the rubber turf. “You’re up, big boy.”

Jeff follows suit, mimicking Eddie and making Harris laugh even harder. 

“Uncle Jeff, you’re so silly!” he exclaims, using hands and feet to clamber back up to the top and slide down the pole; this time, there’s no hesitation. 

Harris repeats the routine again and again until Eddie catches a glimpse of the digital watch around his wrist. “We gotta leave in five minutes, Har Bear,” he reports matter-of-factly, hoping his lack of emotion will ward off any impending tantrums. 

Harris’s lower lip juts out as his pupils dart back and forth between Eddie and Jeff. “Aw, why?”

Eddie crouches down to match his son’s height, pressing palms to his knees for stability. “We’re gonna help Uncle Jeff pack up the presents from the baby shower, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He pauses, pursing his lips in concentration. “How did the baby get in Auntie Viv’s tummy?”

Jeff’s eyes widen at the question, and he glances at Eddie, silently willing him to say something. Eddie clears his throat, wracking his brain for a response that will placate his son’s curiosity without giving away too much information. “Um, well,” he begins, biting the inside of his cheek to buy himself more time before settling on: “when a man and a woman love each other, that love can make a baby.”

Fortunately, Harris seems satisfied with that answer, and Jeff hands him a chocolate donut to distract him from asking anything else. The boy plunks down in the grass a few paces ahead of them and takes a big bite.

“How is it?” Jeff calls to him, chuckling when Harris responds with a chocolate crumb-covered thumbs up and turns his attention back to the dessert. “Nice save,” he says to Eddie, clapping a hand on his shoulder and giving him a little shake. “But what are you gonna say when he asks about his mom?”

“Jesus H; he’s gonna have to give me a few years to come up with an answer for that one.”

Despite every cell in your body urging you to stay away, you’re back in Hawkins. More specifically, you’re in Viv and Jess’s parents’ house, cleaning up after an overall successful baby shower. You’re spooning the leftover food into Tupperware while Jess washes dishes and her girlfriend, Robin, dries and puts them in their respective cabinets.

You’d returned to Grandma’s apartment last night after Jess begged you to come to the shower, lamenting that the party was going to be all of her sister’s lame friends and she needed someone actually fun to hang out with her and Robin. Her insistence, coupled with your desire to finish out the remainder of the school year, is why you’d tossed your suitcases into your sedan and made the trek. Yup, those were the only reasons; certainly nothing to do with–

“Have you talked to Eddie since you got back?”

His name alone brings a surge of emotions, none of which you have the energy to identify. “No,” you mumble, a heat blooming in your cheeks, “he left a message a week ago saying ‘we should talk,’ but I didn’t return it.”

Jess snaps off the faucet, hands still dripping with soapy water as she places them on her hips with an exasperated sigh. “What? Why not?”

“Because.” You try to leave it at that, but her defiant glare obligates you to elaborate. “Because I’m embarrassed!” you admit to Jess and Robin–and to yourself. “The guy practically chased me down the night we met, and now that he got to know me, he doesn’t want to sleep with me? Is my personality that much of a turn-off?” You snap the lid on a plastic container, desperate to end the conversation with your rhetorical question, but your friend keeps going.

“Look, I don’t know him that well–only what I’ve heard from you and Jeff–but he seems to really care about you. Jeff says he hasn’t seen Eddie down this bad, like, ever.” She lowers her voice. “Apparently, some old hookup was coming onto him, and he turned her down because he's, quote, involved with someone.” She raises her eyebrows inquisitively, though you both know that the someone in question is you.

“Wait, hold on–Eddie Munson?” Robin breaks in, nearly dropping the serving spoon in her hand when she makes the connection. “Metalhead, senior year three-peat, alleged Satan-worshiper Eddie Munson?”

“Well, the jury’s out on whether I worship Satan or I actually am Satan, but, yep, that’s me.” The familiar voice from the kitchen doorway startles the three of you; this time, Robin does let the oversized utensil fall to the floor with a clang. 

Nerves send your heartbeat into a frenzy, and you have to rest your open palm on the countertop to steady yourself. Eddie stands before you, tip of his nose tinged red from the cold, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Wh-What are you doing here?” You whisper the words, but you might as well be shouting with the level of anxiety steadily rising in your chest.

Eddie rocks back and forth from the soles of his feet to his toes. “Jeff asked us to help him load the gifts into the car.”

“Us?”

“Ms. Sweetheart!” Harris flings himself into your embrace, and as soon as you stoop down to reciprocate his hug, he’s wrapping his arms and legs around your torso. “I miss you! When are we gonna do the alphabet and eat pizza again?”

Eddie looks over at Jeff; you hadn’t even noticed the other man behind him until Eddie’s gaze drifted over. You watch as the two men exchange a knowing glance, and Jeff quickly speaks up. “Hey, Har,” he motions the boy over to him, “why don’t you use your super strong arms to bring stuff out to the car? I bet you have bigger muscles than me.”

Harris begrudgingly lets go of you, sliding to the floor and dragging his feet to Jeff. He heaves a dramatic sigh and grumbles, “fiiiiiine,” and you and Eddie have to hold back your laughter at his theatrics.

“He is definitely my kid,” Eddie says once Harris has left the room and is out of earshot. He walks closer to you as you turn back to packing up the food. “You, um, never called me back,” he murmurs, placing one hand on either side of you, his chest almost touching your back. Robin and Jess creep out of the kitchen as quietly as possible, leaving you and Eddie alone.

You clear your throat and swallow your fear. “I didn’t have anything to say.” That’s a lie; there was so much you wanted to confide in him, but the thought of him rejecting you again, or getting another glimpse of the hurt you caused reflected in his deep brown eyes, kept you from returning his call.

“Well, I did.” His tone is calm but firm. “I just need to know one thing, and then I swear I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.” He pauses, gathering up his own courage before speaking again. “That day…why did you ask me to sleep with you?” 

“I told you,” you say, desperately trying to keep your voice from wobbling, “because I needed to feel something.”

Eddie shakes his head, stepping back and crossing his leather jacket-clad arms over his chest. “No, but why did you ask me? Why didn’t you go to the Hideout and pick up some random dude?” His volume starts to rise, and he clenches his fist and drags it back down as if reminding himself to be quieter. “Was it, like, a convenience thing, or did you really think I’d be okay having sex with you while you were so upset?”

Your heart pangs at his question. It had never even occurred to you that he’d perceive it that way. Were you being selfish? Taking what you felt you needed? Admittedly, yes. But were you asking Eddie specifically because he happened to be there? Absolutely not. “No, Eddie,” you say, forcing yourself to face him, “it’s because…because I knew you’d take care of me. If I wanted to stop or slow down, I knew you’d listen. I trust you.” Speaking the truth aloud is like letting the air out of an overfilled balloon on the cusp of popping. Both you and Eddie visibly relax, easing a tension you hadn’t realized he was also holding. 

The room is quiet for a moment. Eddie’s knee softly bumps against your thigh as he wills himself to close the gap he’d created. “You said something in your message about it never being meaningless. Not even the night we…we met.”

The reminder of your confession floods you with humiliation. You—unsuccessfully—threw yourself at him for sex and then left a message saying that you’ve been clinging to the hope of a relationship since your alcohol-laden first hook-up. How humiliating. 

“I’m sorry if that was weird, but I told Jess that I’ve never been good at one-night stands. I always get too attached.” And it doesn’t help when I have to see the guy and his adorable son twice a day, you think wryly, but you store that anecdote inside. 

Eddie shakes his head, lacing his ringed fingers with your bare ones. The pad of his thumb brushes against the knuckle of yours, both comforting you and zapping electricity through your body. “No, ‘s not weird,” he reassures you, giving your hands a squeeze. “I felt the same way, even if I didn’t realize it. I think that’s why I asked you to stay, why I held you…I’ve never done that before.” He’s sheepish but not ashamed; if he’s being honest, he’s pretty damn proud of himself for admitting it aloud. 

You tilt your chin up knowingly. “Yeah, I heard you shut down a sure thing because of your involvement with someone.”

Your emphasis of that one word has Eddie dropping his head, letting go of one of your hands and covering his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Damn, word spreads around here like it’s the five o’clock news. But, uh, yeah, I did. Turn her down.” His tongue darts out to coat his dry lips. “Not that it’s any of my business, but did you, um, see anyone over the holidays?” 

“Nope.” You shake your head, bracing yourself for what you’re about to tell him. Even though he’s the one holding you, allowing your bodies to intertwine, it’s nerve-wracking to be so vulnerable. You forge ahead, allowing the words to tumble out of your mouth. “I…I only want you, Eddie.”

Eddie’s breath gets caught in his throat. Want want want. Present tense, not past. “Want, like, present tense? Like you still feel that way?” he asks, hoping he doesn’t reek of desperation for a millisecond before realizing that he doesn’t care, as long as you still want him.

“Is that okay?” Your voice is small, an almost comic contrast from the bravado you used during your last in-person encounter. 

“It’s more than okay, Sweetheart.” Eddie’s whisper matches yours. His thumb ghosts over the plush of your lips as his hand slips to your cheek, bringing his remaining four fingers behind your ears and to the nape of your neck. He leans in, drawing you closer with his tantalizing smoky scent and raw desire. One step in, noses nudging together–

“Daddy, look at me!”

Eddie whips his head around at the sound of Harris’s voice, nearly crashing against yours, and you stumble backwards into the counter, wincing as you make contact with the linoleum. You bite back the string of swear words on your tongue, both at the pain and the missed kiss.

Jeff is panting as he chases after him, bending forward at the waist and resting his palms on his thighs. “I tried to keep him entertained, but I was not prepared for this level of energy,” he huffs, chest rising and falling with each heaving breath. His eyes dart between you and Eddie, easily picking up on the guilty looks on your faces. He mouths “sorry” and shrugs, but the moment is already over.

Harris, oblivious to the burgeoning tension in the room, tugs on his dad’s sleeve in a demand for attention. “Daddy, wanna see me lift stuff?” He jumps up and down as he asks, making his words vibrate. “Uncle Jeff says I’m the strongest kid in the world!” He opens his arms the entire length of his wingspan to emphasize his point.

“Uh, y-yeah; sure, bud.” Eddie stammers. He looks over at you and you follow his lead, watching as Harris lifts a box of diapers with a dramatic grunt. When Eddie is sure that his son has fully turned around, he grabs your hand once more and gives it a little squeeze. “We’ll pick up where we left off later,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, and it sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine.

“Ms. Sweetheart, you watch, too!” Harris insists; so you do, trailing after him all the way to Jeff’s car. Unable to see over the box, he walks it right into the back bumper, and Eddie has to step in and help him.

Once the diapers have been tetris'd into the trunk, Jeff closes the door and slaps it for good measure. “Well, I think that’s everything. Thanks again, Munson…Mini Munson.” He ruffles Harris’s mop of curls with a grin.

Eddie holds out his hand, pulling Jeff in for a hug when he takes it. “Congratulations again, man. I’m really happy for you guys.” And he genuinely is. He can’t wait to see one of his oldest and closest friends experience fatherhood.

He turns to you as Jeff heads back into the house to help Viv to the car. “Did you have anything to eat?” he asks. “I mean, we can go to Benny’s if you want. I was gonna take Harris.” The kid hasn’t had anything since breakfast except the donut, and he’s bound to get cranky sooner rather than later. 

You shake your head. “No, I wasn’t really hungry. But I’m down to split a stack of pancakes with you, if you want?”

“Like you used to do with Grandma?” He remembers you mentioning the tradition during her eulogy. The corners of his lips turn up slightly, though his smile quickly falters when he notices the misty film glazing your eyes. “Sorry, I—”

“I’m good,” you reassure him, dabbing at your lash line with the heel of your hand. “Someone really special once told me that it’s okay to be sad, so I’m kind of giving that a shot.”

This time, Eddie’s grin remains. “Is that a ‘yes’ to the pancakes?”

“Yeah. It’s a yes.” You giggle when Eddie makes a fist and pumps it in celebration. “We usually got blueberry, but I’m down for chocolate chip,” you say, remembering his food preference from your first date.

“Nah, I can get behind blueberry,” he says. What he doesn’t say is that he would eat anchovy pancakes if it meant making you happy. 

“But I want chicken fingers!” Harris scrunches up his nose, and both you and Eddie know that a hungry four-year-old is not to be challenged. 

Eddie scoops Harris up into his arms, smacking a wet kiss to his chubby cheek. One day, his son will wipe them off, but Eddie’s glad that today is not that day. “Then the boy shall have the finest chicken fingers in all of Hawkins!” He declares in a deep voice before winking at you. “More pancakes for me and the pretty lady.”

Harris’s eyes widen. “So you do think she’s pretty–”

“Okay, let’s get this show on the road!” Eddie cuts him off. You duck your head as though that will ward off further questioning from Harris, but not before catching a glimpse of Eddie mouthing, “like a princess.”

You can smell the aroma of the deep fryer as soon as you pull into Benny’s parking lot. Since you drove yourself to the shower, you and Eddie take separate cars and meet there. The small diner isn’t overly crowded, and the three of you squeeze into a booth in the back corner. Eddie sits on one side and you on the other; you assume Harris will slide in next to his dad, but he chooses you instead. 

Your waiter introduces himself as Ryan and places three sets of silverware on the table. He starts to hand you the menus, but Eddie politely shakes his head and tells him, “‘S all good, man. We know what we want.” He orders a plate of chicken fingers and fries for Harris and a short stack of blueberry pancakes for you and him. “Y’want anything to drink?” he asks you, and you contemplate for a moment before ordering a hot coffee, and Eddie gets the same.

“I want a coffee, too,” Harris pipes up, flashing his million-watt grin at Ryan, who holds back a laugh and promises that the food will be right out.

 “So, Harris,” you start, taking a small sip from the glass of ice water in front of you, “how was your Christmas? Get anything good?”

“Mhm!” he chirps, swiveling his body to face yours. “I got a bunch of new Hot Wheels and some cool markers for drawing. They smell like fruits!”

“Very different from when I used to sniff markers back in my day,” Eddie jokes, and you kick his foot lightly in an attempt to silently tell him to behave. His eyes twinkle mischievously when you playfully roll yours.

“That sounds awesome!” you exclaim, bringing your attention back to Harris and adding, “I bet Mr. Will would want to see your new markers if you want to swing by my classroom on Monday.”

Harris’s face lights up, and he claps his hands together in jubilance. “Maybe I can draw something for him!”

“He’d love that,” you tell him, and the little boy squeezes his hands into tiny fists and lets out an excited squeal.

Ryan returns a few moments later balancing a plate of chicken fingers in one hand and the pancakes in the other. Your stomach rumbles; you didn’t realize how hungry you were until you were presented with food. Eddie peels back the film of one of the small plastic syrup containers, positioning it over the pancakes and cocking his eyebrow to get your approval. You nod, and he tilts and swirls it as you watch it drip down the sugary stack. 

“How was your visit with your family?” He doesn’t refer to it as your visit home, because he hopes that you consider Hawkins your home now. He unfurls his napkin and pulls out the fork and knife, cutting into the stack, and you mirror his actions.

Harris stretches his arm out across you, and you realize he’s reaching for the glass ketchup bottle, so you twist off the cap and plop some onto his plate. He dips a fry into it happily. “About as good as it could be,” you answer Eddie. “Everyone kind of tried to act normal, but it was like they were trying too hard, y’know?”

“Was Grandma there?” Harris asks through a mouthful of fried potato.

You bite your lip, not quite sure what he knows and what Eddie wants him to know. Death is a tricky subject to broach with young kids, and you don’t want to say anything that will confuse or scare him. Luckily, Eddie jumps in and comes to your rescue. “Har Bear, remember I told you that Grandma went to Heaven?” He gently reminds his son. “That’s why you made that nice card for Ms. Sweetheart.”

“Oh, yeah.” Harris’s expression morphs from inquisitive to concern, even as he chows down on a chicken finger. “Are you still sad?”

“Sometimes,” you admit, more to yourself than to him, “but it gets a little better every day. And being around my favorite guys helps put me in a good mood.”

Eddie presses a syrupy hand to his chest in mock astonishment. “Who, us?” He smiles and spears another cut of pancake with his fork. “How did you know flattery works with me?”

Before you can formulate a response–something teasing but not overly flirtatious–Harris poses a new question: “Ms. Sweetheart, do you have any babies?”

“Harris!” His son’s name comes out sharper than he intends, but Eddie’s too flustered to think twice. He looks at you apologetically, practically crimson from his cheeks to his ears. “Sorry, he hasn’t stopped talking about babies since I told him about the baby shower.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, giving his hand a small squeeze to show that you truly don’t mind Harris’s curiosity. You look at the boy and tell him, “I don’t have any babies, but I consider all of my students to be my babies.”

“Me, too?”

You chuckle and take a sip of coffee. “Of course, you, too!”

There’s a brief silence as you all eat–Eddie steals a fry from Harris’s plate and shoves it in his mouth before he can get caught. While hilarious, his timing couldn’t be worse, because he has no way of stopping Harris’s next statement:

“You and my daddy could have a baby. Because you’re a woman and he’s a man.” It’s matter-of-fact, said while dunking his food in the ketchup pile, as though this is something everyone drops into normal conversation. “That’s how you get a baby in your tummy like Aunt Viv.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter, not wanting to reinforce his inadvertently entertaining assertion.

Eddie is far less amused than you are, nearly choking on his swiped French fry. “Chrissakes…” he hisses, ducking and bringing his fist to his forehead, “Harris, eat your chicken fingers, quietly.” He breathes out with a puff of his cheeks as Harris obliges, completely oblivious to the meaning behind his suggestion. 

A beat of awkward silence ensues as you eat a hunk of pancake, warm blueberry juice seeping into your tongue. Grandma used to joke around and say that the blueberries made it a healthy food. “Practically a fruit salad,” she’d tease with a glint of happiness dancing in her eyes. 

Eddie, meanwhile, is desperate for a subject change. His palms are slick from what he’s like to think is merely embarrassment, but it’s multifaceted. The idea of the three of you sitting in Benny’s just as you are now, only you’re eating for two, has his stomach in knots. And if he even dares to dream about what getting you pregnant entails? He’s a goner.  

“Harris has a birthday coming up,” he blurts out a bit too loudly, unable to control his volume. “He’s turning the big, uh, five.” 

You can feel Harris eagerly kicking his legs next to you, so you match his enthusiasm. “Wow, Har! That’s a whole hand!” You hold up five fingers and Harris does the same, bringing his palm to yours.

“Are you gonna come to my birthday party?” He peers up at you with hopeful eyes, and you’re left scrambling for a response that doesn’t give away that you haven’t exactly been invited.

“Oh, I, um…”

“She’s going to check her calendar and see,” Eddie offers, and you exhale at his quick save. Turns his attention to you. “His birthday is February 6, but that’s a Thursday, so we’re gonna do his party that Saturday at the bowling alley. Just me, Wayne, and a couple of the kids from school. And you, if you can make it.” Shit, is he rambling? Was that too much information? You spend every day with kids; would you really want to spend a Saturday afternoon at a birthday party surrounded by them?

He’s not overanalyzing for long before you speak. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Do grown-ups get to bowl, too?” You perch your chin on your hand, blinking to emphasize your curiosity. Bowling has never been your forte, but you imagine you’ll fare quite well compared to a group of five-year-olds. 

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Eddie laughs kindly, letting his arm cross the table so that the back of his fingers can graze your forearm, “that’s a given.”

The three of you head out to your cars—not before you and Eddie argue over who’s going to pay the bill, with you eventually winning the battle. He takes Harris’s right hand as you step off of the sidewalk and into the parking lot, and Harris instinctively slips his left into yours. He walks between you and his dad naturally, as though it’s always been this way. Like you all were a little family that made regular outings for pancakes and chicken fingers.

“Har, go get in your car seat, and I’ll be there in a sec to buckle you in,” Eddie says gently, opening the door for him. 

Harris climbs in clumsily, calling back, “Bye, Ms. Sweetheart!” His farewell ends with a yawn, suggesting that there will be a nap in the near future. 

Eddie closes the door, shoving his hands in his pockets bashfully. It’s one of his nervous quirks, you’ve noticed, and you’re immediately inclined to reassure him about whatever’s on his mind. “Hey, um, could I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“I talked to the people at the school,” he starts, kicking at the gravel under his feet, “and Harris has that evaluation thing on Monday. Would you…”

You don’t even let him finish his request before confirming, “I’ll be there.”

Eddie’s body instantly relaxes, relief flooding through him at your words. “You’re amazing.” He looks around to make sure Harris can’t see before kissing you, lips quickly melding together. He has to pull back before he wants to, before either of you want to, to avoid getting caught. He tastes like coffee and syrup with a hint of berries, though the kiss is too brief to pick up on anything else. A stirring inside you informs you that he could kiss you for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough. “See you, Sweetheart.”

Mondays are characteristically exhausting; kids are home for two days on the weekends and return behaving like they’ve never seen a classroom before. Today is no exception, but the coffee Eddie left on your desk this morning certainly helps. He’d tried to sneak in, but you’d caught him, and it took everything in your power not to plant a kiss on his cheek right then and there. Scrawled on the side of the to-go cup in his messy handwriting were three simple words that made your heart soar: For my Sweetheart. 

What you didn’t know was that Eddie had thought about what he’d wanted to write for the entire car ride. Nothing too clingy, but nothing too distant. Not sappy but not brusque. Even the word my between “for” and “Sweetheart” was daunting; how would you feel about being his? 

By the time the afternoon rolls around, neither of you are too concerned with romantic gestures. You and Eddie sit in the hard plastic chairs outside the school psychiatrist’s office. He’s already answered all of her questions, so now it’s simply a matter of waiting for the observation to end. 

You can hear Harris giggling from the other side of the door, and you look over to smile at Eddie, but he either didn’t hear it or his nerves have built up an impenetrable barrier. 

He exhales slowly, puffing out his cheeks and leaning his head back against the brick wall. It’s a sigh of defeat, not relief, and you lean over and squeeze his hand without a second thought. The edges of his skull ring dig into your palm, but you couldn’t care less. Your only priority is keeping him calm. 

“Hey,” you murmur, crossing one leg over the other. He looks through you, not at you, and you  brush a stray lock of hair from his face to ground him. Once he’s settled, you continue talking. “Everything will be alright. Either he doesn’t have a disability, or we’ll be one step closer to getting him the accommodations he needs.”

Eddie nods. “I know. I just…” He pauses for a beat, struggling to find words that accurately convey his myriad emotions. Besides anxiety about the unknown path that lays before him and Harris, guilt gnaws at him for his past misgivings. The careless sex with Harris’s mom, the stupid fucking tour that he just had to go on while she was pregnant, the blissful ignorance that he could have his cake and eat it, too. “I hate that he can’t learn, like, normally. Like the other kids.”

Your instinct is to tell him that Harris doesn’t need to be like the other kids, that he’s perfectly and unequivocally himself, but that’s not what Eddie needs right now. 

“It’s tough,” you agree, “but Harris is a great kid with big dreams, and he’s not going to let anything stop him. All we have to do is support him along the way.”

Eddie ponders that for a moment, slightly amused at the accuracy of your statement, given what you don’t know. Beyond reading and math–both of which he’s shown improvements in since you’ve begun your tutoring sessions–Harris refuses to give up on his quest to get you and Eddie together. The hand-holding drawing was only the tip of the iceberg; Wayne’s since reported that the boy has asked multiple times about when “Daddy and Ms. Sweetheart will fall in love.” And, of course, he hasn’t stopped talking about your Saturday afternoon diner date, constantly badgering Eddie about whether or not you two were married yet.

Eddie rests his head on your shoulder, curly tendrils tickling your collarbones. All you want is to let him stay there as long as he needs, even if your legs fall asleep, but the nagging thoughts of passersby’s perceptions triumph over your desires. 

“Eddie, I…” you trail off, gently lifting your shoulder so he’ll get the hint without you having to say it aloud. Self-consciousness pinkens his cheeks as he sits up, adjusting his posture and mumbling a soft “sorry” under his breath.

“S’fine,” you rush to reassure him, praying that he doesn’t misconstrue your professionalism with shame of being seen with him. You would comfort any of your students’ parents in times of distress, but let’s face it–you would never snuggle up to Jason Carver or Carol Perkins. “Just don’t wanna be accused of canoodling on the job,” 

He lifts his eyebrows. “Canoodling?”

“It’s a word!”

“You’re the one with the fancy college degree, so I guess I gotta believe you.” 

You giggle softly, brushing his Reeboks with your flats. “Seriously, it’s gonna be okay. Whatever happens, I��ve got you.”

I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. The words replay like an enchanting melody. You’ve got him. You’ve got him, and you’ll have him as long as he vows to hold on.

“Mr. Munson?” 

Eddie’s attention snaps to Ms. Cassie, the school psychologist. Harris darts from her office, a giant smile on his face as he leaps into his father’s arms. “Daddy, we played games! It was lotsa fun!”

“That’s great, Har Bear,” Eddie murmurs into Harris’s scalp. He looks up at Ms. Cassie expectantly. “How did everything go?” Is my son okay? Is there something wrong with him? Is it my fault? He doesn’t dare pose those questions.

The psychologist offers a smile, lacing her fingers together in front of her stomach. “Like Harris said, we had a great time. I’d like to speak with you briefly…” her gaze flits over to the hallway. “Is there someone who could keep an eye on Harris while we talk?”

Eddie’s heart sinks; privately, perhaps naively, he’d been wishing that there wouldn’t be anything else to discuss. Maybe a chipper, everything’s fine; he’ll catch up to the other kids on his own! But nothing so serious that it required an additional meeting.

“My TA can,” you pipe up, remembering that Will had stayed back to prepare an art project for tomorrow morning. Eddie puts Harris down, watching as you take his chubby hand in yours and make your way to your classroom. 

Ms. Cassie starts to wave Eddie into his office, but he shakes his head. “Wanna wait for her to get back,” he tells her, and she nods understandingly. As soon as you return, the two of you take a seat in front of her desk. Paperwork is stacked neatly in piles across the top of it, and framed diplomas line the walls. Board games sit on the shelves, and Eddie can’t help but wonder which ones Harris played this afternoon.

“I want to start off by saying that Harris is one of the sweetest kids I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with,” Ms. Cassie says. Her tone is even and patient, which makes Eddie more anxious. He wants to jump up and demand that she spill the bad news already, but he bites his thumbnail to calm his nerves. You notice the gesture immediately and inconspicuously grab the hand closest to yours, hiding your display of affection below the desk. Eddie grips so tightly that you have to actively suppress a grimace.

“The evaluation indicates that Harris meets the requirements to be classified as a ‘preschooler with a disability,’” she continues, “and as a result, he qualifies for special education services–”

“What the hell does that mean?” You wince at the vitriol in Eddie’s voice, and you rub your thumb over the back of his hand. It brings him back down enough for him to clear his throat and apologize, but you can sense that he’s still on-edge.

“That’s alright, Mr. Munson. You’re not the first parent to react that way, and I’m positive you won’t be the last.” She taps a small pile of papers on her desk to even them out before handing them to him. “The classification means that he will get an Individualized Education Program–IEP for short–that will help us target goals for Harris to make progress alongside his peers.”

Ms. Cassie drones on about short-term and long-term objectives, but Eddie can’t focus on what she’s saying. Preschooler with a disability. My son has a disability because I left, because I wasn’t there, because I trusted someone I shouldn’t have. It’s all my fault. My fault my fault my fault–

“Eddie,” you whisper, but it’s no use. You watch as his ribcage expands and contracts faster with manic breaths, on the verge of hyperventilation. You shoot the psychologist an apologetic glance and pull Eddie from the office before he can launch into a full-blown panic attack. His body is like a ragdoll, and he trails behind you mechanically; if you let go of his hand, he’d probably stop dead in his tracks.

“Baby,” you say, bringing him to an empty classroom. The nickname rolls off your tongue easily despite technically being in your place of work. “Baby, it’s just you and me right now. You’re okay–”

“Harris–disability–my fault.” His words are low and gravelly, but you hear them without having to strain. They’re similar to the sentiments he’d uttered that day at parent-teacher conferences when he’d unexpectedly showed up at your door.

There’s no use trying to convince him otherwise, not when he’s like this, so you try a different approach. “I can talk to Ms. Cassie about rescheduling the meeting. We don’t have to figure everything out right away.” He nods, just a miniscule bob of his head, but it tells you that he’s cognizant enough to comprehend what you’re telling him. “In the meantime, why don’t you go see Harris? I bet he’s drawing something for you.”

That gets a smile out of him. “Y-Yeah, okay.” He doesn’t move; instead, he brings you closer to him and holds you to his chest so close that you can hear his heart beating. His body shakes, but it’s not until you feel a warm teardrop fall from his face onto the top of your head that you realize he’s crying. You wrap your arms around his lithe waist until you feel him begin to steady, staggered breaths becoming fuller. 

Wiping the tear trails from his cheeks carefully, you press a tiny kiss to his nose. “Wash your face and go to my classroom. I’ll meet you there.”

“‘Kay,” he manages, wishing he had the means to express his gratitude for your words, your presence, you. 

When he gets to your classroom, Harris is furiously scribbling on a piece of construction paper with his new markers. Eddie smiles, leaning against the door until Will spots him.

“Harris, your dad’s here!” he announces, and Harris looks up excitedly.

“Daddy!” he exclaims. “I’m almost done with my picture, hold on!” He grabs a blue marker and uncaps it, marking the paper with concentrated dots. He replaces the cover and slides the marker back into the yellow-and-green box. 

He’s always so diligent with his art supplies, Eddie notes.

“Ta-da!” Harris spins the drawing so his dad can see. There’s three people–you, Eddie, and Harris. You’re standing around a large purple rectangle with a line coming out of each corner, which Eddie recognizes as a table. There’s a circle representing the plate of chicken fingers in front of Drawing Harris, and a circle between Drawing You and Drawing Eddie with blueberry pancakes. Just like on Halloween, he’s drawn a smile on everyone’s faces.

“He’s really good,” Will says, and Eddie looks at him in amusement. “Seriously, he is. He’s got great spatial awareness when he draws, which most kids don’t develop until later. And he’s got an eye for detail,” he adds, pointing to the blue dots on the pancakes. “Looks like you’ve got a little artist.”

An artist. Not a failure, not incapable, but an artist. A boy who could grow up and inspire the world with his creativity.

“I love it,” Eddie says finally, reaching out to take the drawing. He frowns when Harris snatches it back.

“This one is for Ms. Sweetheart,” he explains exasperatedly, as though this is something he’s had to repeat multiple times. “We already have one at home, Daddy. Renember?” His pout quickly becomes a grin when he sees you enter the room. “Ms. Sweetheart, I drawed this for you!”

“I love it!” You inadvertently echo Eddie’s statement as you hold the paper to your heart. “This is gonna go on the kitchen wall so you can see it when you come over for tutoring.” You turn to Eddie, eyes warm with understanding. “How are you feeling?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly. “Kinda sad, kinda mad, kinda relieved that there’s an answer.” He scratches at the stubble on his cheeks. “‘M just…really glad I don’t have to go through it alone.”

“I’m always here for you, Eds. You and Harris.”

Eddie’s curls bob up and down as he slowly nods. “Speaking of which, um, you said something about tutoring him? Are you feeling up to it? I can bring pizza—o-or not, if it makes you sad. We could do Chinese or something—”

“Eddie?”

“Ya?”

You look down at the drawing of your little chosen family at Benny’s. It’s certainly different from the times you went with Grandma, but you’re filled with the same feeling of belonging that you’d felt then.

“Extra olives for me, please.”

--

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[slttygeto]

don't be so reckless, don't break my heart —MITSUYA T.

synopsis: an argument with your childhood best friend leads to sweet confessions in the middle of the night.

tags: fluff, confessions, childhood best friend! mitsuya, fem!reader, arguments (so, angst if you squint a little), mentions of the reader being in a panicked state, mentions of mitsuya having injuries and bl00d all over him.

word count: 4,2k

note: thank you to the amazing @jean-kirsteins-real-gf for commissioning me! I enjoyed writing this piece a lot :) what a way to start the year! happy 2024 <3!!

Your first meeting with Mitsuya is a memory that is always present in the forefront of your head. It isn’t something that you could easily ignore or brush off, how such a sweet boy who was about your age had a baby to his chest and a kid younger than you both holding his hand so tightly you could see their knuckles turning white. What a rare sight it was, for a boy so young to guide his sister (after you heard her address him as big brother), the gentle tone to his voice, the carefulness when holding the baby to his chest—his kind gesture seals the deal for you.

Shy and scared as a shrinking violet, your teary eyes face away from the two boys who had pushed you off the swing. Young you was never able to speak her mind so bravely, so freely—yet you watch as Mitsuya—(a total stranger at the time), come to your rescue with a baby wrapped closely to him. It is ridiculous the way he fights and scares them off so easily. At first, they mock him for his soft features, for his lavender eyes and for the tiny human being latching onto him. Yet a single kick to one of the boys’ stomach is enough to send chills down your spine. That looks painful, you think.

As you wipe your eyes, you are finally able to look away from the bullies scurrying away with their tails tucked between their legs, facing your knight in shining armor. Your savior. What do you say in such situations? What do you do? You forget to stand up and dust yourself, only realizing your position when your neck starts to hurt from craning it to look up at your hero.

“Are you okay?” he presents a warm hand which you gladly hold, and he pulls you up with so much ease as you wipe away the excess tears on your cheeks. “I’ve seen them around here, never been nice to anyone.” He continues to talk and you continue to give silent nods as a response. At one point, he questions your ability to speak and your face heats up.

“I’m just…”

“Shy?” The slight to his head, the sweet smile—the crush you developed for the boy was all too expected with how nice he was to you.

As the years pass by, the friendship the two of you have developed turned into something that none of you could quite decipher—not that you wanted to. Strangely, you enjoyed the confusion that paints his friends’ faces as you walk up to him, scold him for missing lunch, for not answering your calls—and he doesn’t blush nor does he shy away from returning your hugs, even more passionately than the way you almost tackle him to the ground. His arms have grown stronger than when you were kids, and the way he smells has become so sweet…so intoxicating—you feel dizzy when you pull away from him, unable to look him in the eye for the next 30 seconds as you listen to whatever lame joke Draken has to say about the two of you.

Unbeknownst to you, the boy remembers the day he saw you as though it was yesterday as well. Pretty girl crying on the playground, heart thrumming in his chest when he saw the tears painting your face—he wasn’t in Toman at the time, wasn’t even a thing to begin with. He lies to himself and says that his brotherly instincts kick in when he saw you, that the protectiveness stems from the fact that he would’ve done the same if it were one of his two little sisters. Nevertheless, whatever he was telling his stubborn brain would not go through. He hears you sniffle and helps you up, gives you a tissue to clean yourself and even questions your ability to speak—when you part your lips, your soft voice is what seals the deal for him at the time.

At the time, developing a crush could be from something as simple as saying hi a bit too excitedly or in Mitsuya’s case, the way you had always been nice to other kids on the playground. You weren’t that talkative, but you played with kids on the swing, built sandcastles with them—until those two boys bullied you and the lavender boy knew he had to do something about it.

Watching you grow was a privilege. In Mitsuya’s eyes, having you was perfect. Knowing you, growing with you, embracing you in his arms—you’ve become more beautiful, your eyelashes brush over your cheeks when you blink and your lips pout instead of wobbling when you get sad. Your eyes still hold the same amount of warmth in them as that summer day he met you. You smell as sweet as a jasmine, handle his little sisters as though they are your own, delicate fingers brushing their hair, fixing their bangs, prepping their meals—you treat him and his family with something that feels so special but he would hate to be falsely reading between the lines.

Empathy and kindness have always been one of your traits, you put other people first and although Mitsuya loved it when someone realized just how much of an amazing human being you were, he hated seeing you get taken advantage of. So nice, so sweet—an angel.

You are present when Toman becomes a thing, celebrate alongside the first few members of the biker gang the birth of something so small yet so significant (with a future so big, nobody could ever foresee it). However, violence was never your thing. And so a frown sits heavy on your face whenever you see small scratches on Mitsuya’s face, remind yourself to scold him later for the bruise on his jaw—how would he explain it to his sisters? They’re probably worried sick about him!

“It’s me, can you open up?” it is a rainy summer night, your favorites. You are wearing light pajama pants and a tank top as you approach the entrance door with your heart beating in your throat. At around 11:32PM, soft knocks come to your door. You don’t move from the couch at first. Maybe they’ve mistaken the property for theirs.

Until a second round of knocks come in, and you hear the muffled voice and—wait, you know that voice! As you rush to undo the locks, nothing could’ve ever prepared you for the scene awaiting you.

Mitsuya Takashi was everything yet nothing—a leader, an older brother and a best friend, but when he comes to you so late at night with bruises and cuts all over his face—purple and red knuckles, the bones almost visible, he hisses at the feeling of the alcohol against his wounds. Tears welling up in his eyes, the sniffles--you realize how utterly small and vulnerable he is, sitting on your red couch with legs that would not rest. His limbs shake and his head hurts, you doubt that he has eaten anything all day and he watches as you sigh and rearrange the first aid kit before making your way to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” his voice sounds harsh, the softness to it no longer there after having yelled so much during yet another one of Toman’s fights. You give no response. You don’t need his apologies, you do not need words right now—however, starting a fight was the last thing on your mind, and clearly not what Mitsuya was able to handle in such state.

“It’s alright,” you say as you make your way back to where he was and place food in front of him. Hot and delicious, the smell alone is enough to make his mouth water and he digs in with no regard to his wounds—you hear him hiss as he pulls the chopsticks away from his lips and for the first time ever, you give a small chuckle.

Mitsuya smiles at this, a little relieved that you weren’t that mad at him. However, he sees the way you sit and face away from him, how your eyes trail longer on the uninteresting, empty road out there rather than his face. This was unlike you. You were never one to avoid eye contact with him, having openly admitted that you find solace in his lavender eyes and his gentle stare. Clearly, something was wrong.

“Are you angry with me?” It is not a surprise that the emotionally intelligent man was able to pick up on the subtle hints you’ve thrown his way about your sour mood, and you suck in your lips for a bit before finally mustering up the courage to face him. Your eyes are tired, a deep frown sitting heavy on your face and painting your features in a darker light than usual. One that has the wounded man’s heart breaking for a bit.

“Only worried,” you want to say more, Mitsuya fixing his posture to look at you encourages you to do so. “Do you have to do this?” you whisper the question so softly, so afraid that someone in the empty apartment beside Mitsuya would hear. You don’t know why you are so afraid of being heard, perhaps because you know you are overstepping into a territory that wasn’t yours—something you’ve never had the chance to experience—Toman, the community, the people in it. They all meant so much to the guy sitting next to you, wouldn’t it be insulting to ask him if he has to put his life on the line for them every time?

Upon hearing those words, a sigh leaves the guy’s lips and you feel like sinking into the couch. Conversing with Mitsuya was easy, it felt natural and smooth—why was this topic so anxiety inducing then?

“You’ve been there… you know, when it all started.” His words serve as a reminder of the day it all started, the joy on everyone’s faces when Mitsuya handed them the old Toman uniforms. You’ve seen it, how dedicated all of them were. You were understanding—but this was too much.

“I have but—Takashi, this is ridiculous,” you turn to face him and Mitsuya’s eyes flicker down to your pouty lips before staring back at your eyes. He hates seeing you so upset.

“I know, I know…” his hand slides towards your own and you feel electricity through your body when you feel his touch, the way his fingers interlace with yours and his thumb brushes over the skin of the back of your hand. “I just have to and plus, kinda needed that beating as warm up.”

“Huh?” you stare at him confused, pushing him to continue.

“Toman’s been involved in something a bit nasty,”

“But you guys are used to nasty, right?” there’s nervousness in your voice.

“Yeah but this is… This is next level,” when Mitsuya leans forward with his elbows on his knees, the serious look on his face almost sends you spiraling.

“Who?”

“Hm?”

“Who are you fighting?” You’re fighting off high levels of anxiety as he keeps you waiting for a few seconds before replying.

“Tenjiku.”

“Tenji—“ you choke on your spit, unable to finish your sentence out of pure shock. “Tenjiku! You are fighting Tenjiku? No, no no no—you’re not,” you’ve grown agitated at the mention of the name of the gang, and Mitsuya suddenly finds himself unable to calm you down as he normally can.

“Hey, it’s okay we’ve got this, we always do—“

“You always do?!” You repeat, before pointing at his state. “Look at you! You’re barely coming back in one piece, think you can fight Tenjiku?”

“Well excuse you, Toman is also very strong.” Takashi also gets up from the couch, your words having too much of an effect on the usually calm and collected man. As he watches you pace around the living room of your apartment, his hands find themselves in front of his body, reaching towards you in a futile attempt of getting you to calm or sit down. But to no avail. It seems as though the mention of such dangerously reputable biker gang sets you off, and the possibility of what might happen to the man if not careful enough sends you spiraling down faster with each short inhale you take.

“That’s—what? A thousand men against a hundred? Don’t be ridiculous Takashi.”

“How am I being ridiculous? You know Toman,” his eyebrows are furrowed and his body stops moving, indicating that your words were starting to get to him personally. “We are strong, we got this.”

“You always come back beaten up and bloody!” you half yell out exasperated. “You don’t got this if most of your body is black and blue by the time a fight is over!”

The tension in the room has grown so thick. It’s unusual given your somewhat stable friendship with the man. Slight disagreements happened here and there over things that you could easily brush off and say ‘yes, I was wrong and you were right,’ or simply ignore it and pretend it never happened. But as your voice gets louder, and you show more and more evidence of how upset you are, it’s clear as day that ‘slight’ wouldn’t describe the situation accurately. You were having a full blown argument with Mitsuya, and it still hasn’t sunk in yet.

Mitsuya can hear his heart beat in his chest, he feels his ears heating up with the amount of negative feelings he was experiencing towards this—towards you being so against Toman winning. Did you really not believe in him? Were you faking being supportive this entire time?

“You know I’m still going to go and fight alongside them, right?” The tone Takashi uses with you is so unusual that you feel your eyes brimming with tears straight away. Cold and indifferent, two things you never thought you could associate with how the man felt for you.

“Well don’t come to my place for me to clean you up. Find someone else.”

“I will.” He doesn’t wait for you to open the door for him, doesn’t say goodnight as he usually does. He doesn’t even slam the door as he leaves. He is cold and distant as he walks further and further away from you, from the argument. Reality sets in and the heavy weight of your words and reactions to his announcement come flashing back like a short movie made to embarrass you, make you feel guilty.

“Fuck.”

--

“Mitsuya! You’re distracted!” Another punch lands on the lavender hair’s jaw, sending him flying into the ground with a loud thud. Although his injuries aren’t as bad as half of Toman’s, his disorganized state is sending most of his division members into a panicked state. He was never like this.

“Ugh--!” Before he can stand up, he is being kicked repeatedly in the guts until blood spills out of his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to roll over and away from whoever’s attacking him to avoid another harsh blow to his body. He gets on one knee with an arm around his middle, protecting his injuries and he coughs out blood before letting his wobbly legs help him stand up straight.

“Shit—sorry,” his hand wipes at the blood on his lips. He gets into a fighting stance and immediately, the look in his eyes changes into something fiercer, more passionate. He hates that the argument with you is the only thing on his mind. Your words, your tone, even the way you haven’t reached out to him in a couple of days. He hates fighting with you, despises the fact that maybe you were right, and that Tenjiku are beating them up. But one glance at his division members—at Toman, it reminds him that the roars of victory when the fight ends, the tears of joy. The pain in his body could never compare to the happiness and satisfaction of being in this gang, his second family. However, he cannot wait for everything to be over, and for you two to make up.

--

The universe has a strange way of showing that two people are meant to be. As Mitsuya makes his way back to his apartment, several groans escape his lips as he drags his bloodied and beaten up body up the stairs. He preferred going to yours because there were less stairs but…It looks like it wasn’t an option now. As his hand twists the knob of his door, he is fully prepared to see a mortified baby sitter asking him what exactly had happened—but instead, he sees something else. Or rather someone.

Earlier that night, things were a bit messy for you. Feeling as though you have been punched repeatedly in the guts wasn’t an enjoyable feeling—the nausea amplified by your shallow breathing, your nostrils hurting from the harsh cold air and your throat dry as a desert as your body refuses to swallow, instead sending you into an anxious state as it forgets to let the oxygen into your lungs. You choke as you get away from the window and run to the kitchen to grab some water, you open the tap and let the cold liquid hit your wrists, calm your nerves. You lean against the sink with your elbows propped against the surface and your lips pathetically wobble as tears threaten to spill. You couldn’t handle this anymore.

You were glad that Luna and Mana had gone down to sleep easily, a short story about a princess that wandered around the forest, slipping down a mystery hole into a magical world which she ended up ruling had the girls’ eyes sparkle, yet the tiredness was visible as their under eyes darkened, eyelids heavy and before you knew it—tiny snores resonated through their shared room. You checked on them a couple of times throughout the night, and although the sight of them sleeping so soundly had you place a hand on your chest as muscle memory, your body wanting to show its relief—your brain was running a thousand miles per hour. Takashi—how was he? Would he even make it back? You feel as though you were a bit harsh with him when telling him that you wouldn’t treat his wounds—but his stubbornness, you couldn’t handle it anymore.

There is a crackling noise coming from the fireplace, and you know that the coldness of your body calls for warming up but—but not now, not when Mitsuya wasn’t back home yet, and it was already approaching three in the morning.

As strange as it may seem, the invisible thread connecting the two of you was tugging from both sides and you find yourself staring at the door knob before it starts twisting. When the door swings open and a bloody Mitsuya comes in sight, the first thing that leaves your lips is a defeated “oh” before your feet rush you to the first aid kit you had brought with you from your place.

“What…are you doing here?” Takashi is the first to break the silence as he limps towards the couch. You don’t answer, you gently place him on the cushions before cradling his face in your hands. He doesn’t like the look on your face, how your eyes are brimming with tears and your bottom lip wobbles before you look away to hide the fact that you were very close to bursting into tears.

“I was never going to come.” You admit, but it was obviously a lie. Not with the way you carefully unbutton his uniform top and hand him a bottle of water to keep him hydrated.

“I know,” his voice had gone low, almost ashamed to be in such position.

“Did you at least win?” You whisper as you open the kit and pull out cotton and some disinfectant for his wounds, a bandage for his for his arms and legs. His uniform was ripped, destroyed from being tossed to the ground repeatedly, but the proud smile on his face eases your worries a bit. You miss seeing his lips curl up like that.

“Toman never loses.”

The next few minutes go by in complete silence, with the occasional hiss and groans from the man being treated and your soft apologies. The living room is filled with something so intense, ready to snap at any given moment. When Takashi groans as you press at a certain spot between his ribs, you freeze and look up at him.

“You broke a bone?”

“I figured with how hard I was getting beaten,” he holds his side with a slight wince.

“Takashi…” said man looks down at you, and his eyes soften when he sees that the tears you once held in were finally spilling out. “You’re so reckless, I—you stress me out,” you try to wipe your tears away, but it seems useless. The more tears fall down, the less control you have over your sobs. You are on the verge of a full breakdown and the man sitting before you on the couch can’t help but reach his hands towards you to smooth your hair, push it out of your wet face.

“Hey…hey I’m fine, I’m sorry that I caused you this much stress I just—“

“I don’t wanna lose you,” you cut him off abruptly, moving your hands away from your face and letting him fully cradle your face. “I can’t imagine living without you, Taka,” before your lip could start wobbling again, Takashi’s thumb gently brushes over it and pulls it down.

“You won’t lose me,” he whispers, leaning down to your level. “Ever. I know I get beaten up very often, but I always come back in one piece, don’t I?”

“But what if something happens?” you’re finally letting your worries float to the surface openly. Rather than telling him not to fight like last time, you are now fully admitting that you were anxious about his absence, how much he means to you and how his well being affects your life. “What if—what if you lose, you die and I don’t have you in my life?”

“That wouldn’t be so horrible, hm? I do cause you a lot of stress apparently,” he tries to joke, lift up your mood but you shake your head almost harshly, hands grabbing his wrists.

“I need you with me, in my life. I need you next to me, I wanna be selfish and keep you all to myself, Taka,”

“All to yourself?” His thumb then brushes your cheek, up to your eyebrows before pushing your sweaty strands out of your face. “Sounds like you got something else to say, don’t you?”

His voice isn’t playful, but rather encouraging. His lavender eyes are filled with something so comforting yet so intense. For the first time ever, you feel nervous in his presence.

“That I love you. I’m in love with you, you don’t even know how horrible it feels when I have to treat your cuts and wounds and have to watch you be so careless about something that is so precious to me,” your hands let go of his wrists to cradle his face, mirroring his actions. He melts under your touch, nuzzling into the palm of your hands like a feline craving heat during winter.

“Lucky you, I’d love to have you all to myself too,”

“You do?”

“I do,” he nods and tilts your head up to stare at him. “I have wanted you all to myself for so long, it’s kind of ridiculous. That warm smile,” his other hand traces your lips. “Those gorgeous eyes,” he leans in and presses a kiss to your eyelids. “This pure soul,” his lips then press against your forehead, between your eyebrows. “I’ve wanted you to be all mine for so long, watched myself fall in love with you harder with every moment we spent together. My heart, my soul—they yearned for yours. For your eyes to only stare at me, for those lips to only smile at me—I love you.”

You feel your cheeks heating up with every word, every honeyed sentence leaving his lips like a sweet melody. You can’t bring yourself to say anything in return, not when looking at him seems so difficult, your eyes, chest and whole body feeling hot at the realization that he feels the same.

Takashi was in love with you.

“You made my confession seem so lame,” you break the silence with a sniffle, and your face heats up even more when he starts laughing at your embarrassed state.

“It wasn’t lame at all, my love, my heart is about to burst at your words,”

“Don’t—you’re so comfortable already!” You try to pull away from him when he uses such sweet pet names on you.

“I am the luckiest to be with my best friend, my baby,” he presses his lips against your cheeks with a grin, going in for another kiss when he feels your hot cheeks. “Of course I’d be comfortable.”

Falling for your best friend seemed like the worst possible outcome when you realized you were developing feelings for him, but when he was holding you with so much care and staring at you with such warm eyes—all those worries melted away against the palm of his hand, accepting the love he had for you with open arms and an open heart.

2024: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[lozchi]

KNOCKDOWN

Masterlist Pairing(s):Sukuna x F!Reader, Modern AU

Themes: Suggestive content, profanity, mild violence, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, OOC, fluff, angst(ish)

Prologue: 1.7k words

The kindergarten playground was a battleground of tiny tempers and unfiltered emotions.

“THE GIRAFFE IS MINE! AHHHGHHHHH!”

 And no one exemplified this more than Ryomen Sukuna.

Even as a youngster, Sukuna was a formidable presence. He constantly found himself in trouble, getting into conflicts with peers and receiving harsh rebukes from teachers who were unable to tame his unruly nature.

"I apologize for hitting Tanaka's balls, I will do it again…"He trails off.

"Sukuna!"

"Alright! I won't! Tsk, adults."

In the sandbox one day, Sukuna noticed two boys your age standing near you, whose names he didn't care to remember. Their pushing and teasing was causing you to cower in fear from their cruel words. You hastily use your arm to wipe away your tears and snot, wishing they'd go away.

“I juz wan’ play here! I was here first! Lemme be!” You yell. 

“You're a girl! You can't tell us what to do!” Sukuna's usual urge for fights found a new purpose. 

“I'm not a bad boy if I'm helping someone, heh.” He thinks to himself. 

With a determined glare, Sukuna marched over, fists clenched. "Hey, you dummies!" he yelled, his voice carrying an authority that belied his age. 

The bullies turned, sneers plastered on their faces. "What's it to you, poopy head?" one of them taunted. 

Before the boy could react, Sukuna's fist collided with his nose causing a horrifying sound. The boy fell back, holding his face while blood streamed down. Sukuna dodged the swing from the other bully with quick reflexes. He responded by delivering a quick punch to the bully's abdomen, leaving him breathless. The bully bent over in half, struggling to breathe before falling to the ground.

 “Mommy! Mommy! Help me!” The boys cried in unison.

 "Had enough?" Sukuna spat, standing protectively in front of you as the bullies scrambled away in tears. 

You looked up at your savior with wide, grateful eyes, wiping your tears away.  Boy, was he in so much trouble that day. 

“Ff-thank you, ‘K-Kuna.” You sobbed. 

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just don't cry about it." 

From that moment on, you were drawn to Sukuna like a magnet. At first, he found your constant presence irritating. You would trail behind him, mimicking his every step. If he ran, you ran; if he stopped, you stopped. When he sat on the swings, you’d sit beside him, your small legs dangling in the air. During snack time, you’d offer him your favorite treats, hoping to win his approval. Sukuna often rolled his eyes at your antics. 

"Why are you always following me?" he grumbled one day as you trailed behind him.

"Because you’re my hero," you replied with a bright smile, holding out a piece of candy.

"Want some?"Sukuna's scowl softened just a fraction as he took the candy. 

"Fine, but stop being so annoying."

 He found himself looking forward to the treats you brought and the way you cheered for him after his fights.

You would defend him to the other kids, proclaiming proudly;

 "Sukuna's the strongest! No one can beat him!" 

Even when he found your declarations embarrassing, a part of him enjoyed the attention. Slowly, your  loyalty began to chip away at his tough exterior. Without realizing it, Sukuna began to appreciate having you around. 

The dynamic between you and Sukuna only deepened as you both entered high school. Sukuna’s reputation as a fierce fighter had followed him, and it wasn't long before other delinquent students sought to challenge him, either to prove themselves or settle old scores. You often found yourself waiting near the school gates or in the secluded corners where these fights typically occurred. 

The aftermath was always the same: Sukuna standing victorious, his opponents nursing bruises and pride. You would rush to his side, your bag already prepared with a first aid kit.

"Hold still," you would command softly, dabbing at a cut on his cheek with antiseptic.

"I don't need your help," Sukuna would grumble, though he never pulled away.

"Stop being stubborn," you’d reply, focusing on cleaning his wounds. "If you keep this up, you’re going to have more scars than I can count."

Sometimes, it would be other delinquent students wanting to mess with each other, using Sukuna as their proving ground. But no matter how many tried, Sukuna remained undefeated. His skill and ferocity in battle were unmatched, and you were always there to patch him up afterward.

One evening, after a particularly brutal fight, you were carefully bandaging Sukuna’s knuckles. 

"You really should find a less violent hobby," you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled, wincing slightly as you tightened the bandage.

"And what would that be? Knitting? Horseback riding? Ooh, what about pottery?"

You smiled, shaking your head. "I just worry about you, that's all."

He looked at you, a rare softness in his eyes. "I know. Thanks.”

Once you turned eighteen, the news hit you like a freight train: Sukuna had to leave for another country. The weight of his departure was heavy, pressing down on your chest as you tried to process it. His last day arrived all too quickly, and you found yourselves standing in the empty school courtyard, the familiar surroundings now filled with a profound sense of finality.

"I can't believe you're leaving," you said, your voice shaky with emotion. "I'll miss you so much."

Sukuna's usual bravado was absent, replaced by a quiet resignation. He met your eyes, his own filled with a sadness. 

"I don't really have a choice," he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically soft. "But you have to promise me something."

"Anything," you replied instantly, desperate to hold onto any part of him.

"Stay safe for me, got it?" His voice was firm, but you could hear the underlying plea.

"I will," you promised, your throat tightening as you fought back tears. "You too, Sukuna. Stay safe."

He gave a small nod, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. "I mean it. Don't do anything stupid."

"I won't," you assured him, though you wished you could say more, do more to make him stay.

As he turned to leave, you felt an ache in your heart, a deep, gnawing sense of loss.

 "Sukuna," you called out, your voice breaking slightly. "I'll miss you."

He paused, his back still turned to you. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something, but all he could manage was a low hum of acknowledgment. "Protect yourself for me," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You watched him walk away, each step taking him further from you and deeper into an unknown future. As he disappeared from sight, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. He wished he had said it back, wished he had found the courage to tell you how much you meant to him. But for now, all he could do was carry the hope that one day, he would have the chance to make things right.

No way of contacting him, Sukuna gradually became a distant memory. The sharp, vivid images of your childhood together blurred as you got busier with your studies. The demands of school, extracurricular activities, and the push towards your future left little room for reminiscing. Each passing day added another layer of distance between you and the boy who had once been your closest friend.

Meanwhile, Sukuna was on a different path. He threw himself into intense training, honing his skills with a singular focus. His natural talent and relentless drive quickly propelled him to the top of the mixed martial arts world. As you buried yourself in textbooks and exams, Sukuna was making headlines, becoming a prodigal MMA fighter known for his unmatched ferocity and technique.

Years slipped by, and the memories of Sukuna became like old photographs, faded and tucked away in the back of your mind. Occasionally, something would trigger a fleeting recollection—a particular song, the scent of antiseptic from your first aid kit, or the distant sound of a playground. But these moments were rare and quickly overshadowed by the pressing concerns of the present.

Unbeknownst to you, Sukuna’s name began to rise in the sports world. Articles, interviews, and televised matches showcased his prowess, but in your bubble of academic pursuits, his fame went unnoticed. You had yet to discover the remarkable journey Sukuna had undertaken -- the one that had transformed him from the fierce protector of your childhood to a celebrated MMA prodigy.

Despite the cashflow and all the attention that came with his success, Sukuna felt a deep, gnawing emptiness. The trophies, accolades, and the roaring crowds failed to fill the void left by your absence. He would often find himself staring out at the arena from behind the scenes, lost in thought. 

Sukuna imagined what it would be like to see you in the crowd. He could almost hear your voice cheering for him, a familiar sound that had been a constant during his childhood fights. He pictured you there, standing amidst a sea of faces, your eyes bright with pride as you shouted his name. 

"YES! THAT'S SUKUNA! LET'S GO!" he would hear you say in his mind’s eye, your voice as clear and encouraging as it had been all those years ago.

He hoped that one day, you would see how far he had come, that you would recognize the man he had become and the battles he had fought. He longed for the moment when he could finally show you the success he had achieved and hear you say,

"I’m proud of you, Sukuna.”

But for now, those thoughts remained unspoken wishes he carried with him as he fought in the ring. Every success, every achievement was colored with the anticipation that one day you would be present to observe it, to witness his growth, and to take part in celebrating his achievements.

One day, though, the paths of your separate lives would cross again, and the faded memories would be brought back into sharp focus. But for now, you remained unaware,  while Sukuna continued to conquer arenas far away, all the while imagining your cheers in his heart.

Taglist:

just put it under this post or any of the chapters I'll release. I would be posting polls or asking readers about certain things sometimes that would possibly affect the story in a minor way so stay tuned. :)

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, day 6 - "Who did this?" Childhood friends Steddie, delayed because I'm still sick and sleeping most of the time, sorry. I will catch up eventually.

When he was eight years old, someone up there sent Steve Harrington a miracle. It was't flashy, shiny or anything, so it took him a while to recognize that it was indeed a miracle. It came in form of a boy about a year older than him, with a mop of wavy dark hair, large brown eyes and even larger smile - Eddie Munson.

Steve was doing well at that time, or so everyone kept telling him. His parents had the money to buy a big house, get him a babysitter when needed, send him to all the activities he wanted - only they were rarely with him. But that was fine. When you have everything that so many others don't, you can hardly complain about something as mundane as feeling lonely.

God, Steve felt lonely.

He was the rich kid, the one with the "nothing is ever good enough" parents, and that rarely won him any friends. They all expected him to organize parties, to get a bouncy castle for the afternoon, to bring a cake whenever they asked, but it felt like they never really wanted him. Steve found the feeling painfully familiar.

It took one gentle rejection of another set of requests and demands, a suggestion that maybe they could just go and check out the fair that was just unpacking nearby, and everyone lost interest in him, called him cheap. Unpacking meant that it wasn't open yet, and that Steve wouldn't pay for the rides. He was just leaving the playground when he heard a high, loud voice call out to him. "Hey, hey you! Yellow t-shirt! Wait!"

Steve stopped and turned around, glaring at the skinny kid rushing to him. "Yellow t-shirt?" he asked, wondering if he should be insulted.

"Well, duh. I don't know your name yet. I'm new here." The boy stopped in front of him with a wide smile plastered on his face. "But now I will. I'm Eddie, I moved in with my uncle a week ago. You are?"

Steve offered him his hand. "Steve. So, uh..."

Eddie laughed and shook his hand. "Hi, Steve. Now, did these sharp ears hear something about a fair?"

Something lifted in Steve's chest, something he never knew weighed so heavily on him. "Sure did!"

His new friend - only friend - beamed at him. "Then lead the way! "

..

It was after they properly inspected all the attractions that the fair had to offer that Steve noticed a bruise on Eddie's arm. It was pure chance - he and Eddie were swinging on a tree branch and Eddie's sleeve fell back, revealing a nasty bruise. It must have been older, but the size and discoloration were still enough to make Steve concerned.

"Who did this?" he asked, pointing at Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie seemed to freeze mid-swing. He dropped to the ground and pulled the sleeve back. "No one. I fell, I'm clumsy like that." He spoke fast and with that carefree smile, but Steve's gut had a mind of its own.

"Eddie. You don't get bruises like that from falling," he said and despite Eddie's protests, leaned in to examine the injury. He'd seen some like that, on kids whose parents tended to fight a lot, or at least according to his parents, "had a nasty violent streak". He always tried not to stare, but he knew what they meant. "It looks...looks like a punch. Did someone do that to you?"

The smile faltered and Eddie dropped his gaze to the ground. He shuffled around awkwardly on his feet, as if he was deciding whether to run. "Uh...yeah. I mean. It's probably not a secret, it's just that it used to? I mean," he added, noticing the confused look on Steve's face, "my dad tends to get angry a lot when things don't go well. He lost his job, mom left us...so yeah. That's also why I'm here, in a new town, new school...my uncle lives here. I'm staying with him."

"Is he..." wavered Steve, "...is he angry too? Will you be OK?"

If there were any tears in Eddie's eyes, they were gone in an instant. "Wayne? Oh no. He's great. He's a bit scary, but he's so nice. You know, he gave me his own bed. I told him I don't need it, but he didn't care. And he gave me some really cool books! You'll never have to worry about Wayne. Or me. That's a promise."

..

Steve didn't think Eddie meant to lie. "You'll never have to worry about me" sounded wonderful, but it never worked that way with them. And Steve found himself asking Eddie the same question over and over.

"Who did this?" he asked as Eddie came to the school with his head shaved, gently coaxing an answer from Eddie that his classmates thought cutting his hair would be a great prank. "It'll grow back even thicker, just you wait," he snickered, but Steve could see his restless fingers reaching out for the strands that were no longer there.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was helping Eddie fish out his school supplies from the pool. Eddie just laughed it off, saying he'd pissed of a bunch of seniors by not lying to their girlfriends about cheating.

"Who did this?" he asked as he saw Eddie with a black eye and his locker painted over with the word FAGGOT. Eddie shrugged and slammed the locker shut. "It's not like they're wrong," he whispered to Steve. When Steve turned up at his and Wayne's trailer in the evening, Eddie hugged him tight, as if he thought he'd never see Steve again over that admission. As if.

"Who did this?" he asked as he was picking Eddie up after his roleplaying club, Hellfire, and seeing that someone cut Eddie's tires. Eddie just laughed and explained that apparently dragons and adventures were the work of Satan now.

"Who did this?" he asked in marvel as he saw Eddie's first tattoo. It was so crooked and imperfect, but so much like Eddie. When he admitted it was his own work, Steve asked for one of his own.

"Who did this?" he laughed as he kissed Eddie for the first time and found a small braid hidden in his mane of hair. When Eddie admitted he made that one himself, that he gets restless sometimes, Steve asked to teach him. So he could always braid Eddie's hair for him when they eventually moved away together.

But maybe the answers didn't matter.

The answer to "who did this?" didn't matter to the mob that gathered after Chrissy Cunningham's death. They decided they knew already.

"Who did this?" didn't matter when Steve raced to the hospital with badly injured Eddie in his car, the wound on his head bleeding onto Steve's pristine window.

"Who did this?" lost its importance when Wayne and Steve waited for the dreaded news.

And knowing who did it certainly doesn't help Steve now, as he and Wayne are picking up a headstone for Eddie's final resting place.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

ALPHABET BOY- S.G ROGERS

Pairing: Brothers Best Friend! Steve x Innocent! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: you despise steve and his constant teasing with you- the younger sister of his best friend bucky barnes. little do you know that teasing is flirting, and it comes in handy when you’re trapped at a costume party with no way home. 

Warnings: SMUT, fingering, daddy kink, petnames, slight breeding kink, praise kink, swearing, size kink (steve is like 6′5), dry humping, slight degradation kink, lots of teasing, alcohol and drugs mentioned 

“i'm not a little kid now, watch me get big now- spell my name on the fridge now with all your alphabet toys.... you won the spelling bee now, but are you smarter than me now? you're the prince of the playground little alphabet boy” - alphabet boy, melanie martinez 

You were sick of him. 

Sick, sick, sick. 

He plagued your brain, consuming you whole like some flesh-eating maggot. The thought of him was enough to send shivers down your back, make your stomach curl in on itself like rotten milk. 

Steve scared you. 

He scared you in a way you didn’t even know was possible, in a way that was rooted deep in your core. The embarrassment you got whenever he was around sent you spiraling. 

You were the shy, timid and innocent little sister to Bucky, though you weren't so little, he and his friends always thought of you that way. 

I’m not a little kid! You’d often whine to him as he teased you, times never changing. Steve was Bucky's best friend, a brother to him if you will. Always lurking around, always popping up in places you'd least expect him. 

He was the character that was always slouched on the couch when you got home, acting as if it were his house, and you were the guest. You might as well be, with the way he teased you. 

Always making your cheeks heat whenever he mocked you, called you names, picked on you for your cutesy, little pink outfits. It made your toes curl in their socks, your hands balling into little fists as if you were fighting the urge to swing at him. 

He’s being mean to me again Bucky! You’d often call from your bedroom as Steve towered over you, leaning against your bedroom door frame- eyeing you up like you were the star dish on the menu. 

Let him! He’d call back, making Steve’s smirk grow even wider. 

It was torture, being around him. Any comments you shot back to him ended up backfiring almost immediately. 

You were smaller, dumber, younger- didn’t you know better? 

No, you wanted to snap back. No, I don’t know any better. Because I’m stubborn and he’s being a tease. 

Steve would build you up like building blocks, just to bring you back down again. Yet you refused to be away from him for too long. Yes the thoughts made you feel sick, tummy starting to ache as you thought of his cool, stern gaze, that cocky smile and biceps as large as your head.

 It made your thighs clamp, palms turn clammy when you thought of the happy trail that lingered down his abs whenever he’d stretch and yawn while him and Bucky were watching the game, knowing you were watching from behind your little hiding spot. 

Damn him. Damn him and his mocking, pretentious ways. Damn him for always winning you back over, with little sweets and treats and the odd compliment, or attention he knew you so desperately craved.

 It was obvious, how drawn to him you were, like a lost puppy. Though you tried to fight it, you were always rewarded with a snarky comment. 

You’re so dumb. So dumb, such a baby. 

You could never win, when it came to Steve. He was the golden child in everyone’s eyes, always doing the right thing, always working so hard and succeeding! You were just trying your best, getting the soft, sad smile along with it. 

They didn’t see how Steve treated you. They didn’t notice the sly looks he gave you, knowing he had beat you at every hand he dealt. 

He was the prince of the playground. You were just a pawn for him, something to direct his mocking, sarcastic ways towards. Though you refused to cry in front of him, knowing that would irk his comments even more.

 I’m just teasing you rabbit. Don’t be so sensitive. Was his form of an apology. And you ate it up every single time, licking the plate and utensils before seconds.

 It was cat and mouse between the two of you, always pulling each other's leg. Or hair, in his case. The sexual attraction you felt towards him was undeniable, nonetheless. You were drawn to him and his charming ways, the facade he put on for others. 

How could no one see him? The real him? 

The Steve who always trailed his hand up your leg to pinch your thigh tightly when you were forced to sit next to him, the Steve who always looked at you as if you were his next meal. 

He was an angel to the world, but his halo was anything but bright. You thought of him now, in your own set of angel wings- costume party in full swing. It was late, the hour growing long and you wanted nothing more than to stumble home. 

Even if that meant taking yourself. 

The alcohol was buzzing in your system, the bottle drowning you way past your limit. You were such a sucker for peer pressure, wanting nothing more than to please others. 

So you drank, and drank, and drank until you were a babbling mess, the world seeming to bend over backwards, flipping each and every way as you adjusted your little wings and took another sip of some fruity cooler. 

It was so saccharine you swore your teeth started to tingle as it swished around your mouth. 

You needed to leave. 

It was too stuffy and hot, bodies all packed together as the wallpaper glistened from the low lights, and the smoke started to cover everything like a shield. Nobody listened to you, your friends long gone as you attempted to beg for an exit, an escape route for you to stumble down. 

Everyone had morphed into another being- you weren't sure who was who anymore, with all the masks and makeup. It was not your scene. Not at all. 

Somehow, after a few loud, floor-shaking songs later you had managed to stumble over to a hallway, slowly guiding yourself past the couples who were dry-humping eachother against the picture frames, kissing with so much teeth and tongues it was like they were having a battle on who would gasp for air first.

The red solo cup had slipped from your nibble fingers, clattering against the hardwood and splashing red up against the walls. 

It looked like blood. 

The cool air hit you like a train on a track as you stepped out into the dark abyss, large forest looming in front of you as the porch light flickered. The shadows of the trees looked like clawed fingers against the grass, the gust of wind causing goosebumps to spread up your arms. 

You needed to get home. 

There was a trail that connected this property to yours, though it was long and windy. The smart thing to do was to call Bucky, explain to him the situation. 

I’m drunk. Like really drunk. And I’m scared and I need someone to hold just for a few minutes while they take me home. It was a mistake and I’m so sorry, I really am. 

But he wouldn't hold you. He probably wouldn’t even pick you up, saying it was your fault for getting in this situation, so you should find a way out of it.

 No, no that was intrusive thoughts talking. You couldn't tell the difference anymore. Everything in your brain was swimming, the world stretching and warping like a fushigi ball. 

Bucky would pick you up. Of course he would. But you knew the consequences that would come with it. Which is exactly why you put another foot forward, pushing yourself off of the old, weathered siding. 

You would be treated like a child, mocked at for being so careless. Well, he could shove that mocking up his ass. You were tired of him and his friends always being so mean, always bullying you because you were seen as careless. 

You didn’t need any company, but it didn’t mean you were opposed to it. A shadow, one even more intimidating than the towering trees appeared, lingering behind you. It was stretched, shoulders wide as you peered down at it. 

“You shouldn't be out here all alone.” the voice murmured, low and deep as you turned. Your eyes met with a strangers, mask covering his face- deep looming pulled eyes staring at you. 

Ghostface. 

You had seen that movie with Steve and Bucky, though you had never been a fan of scary movies. “It’s not safe for little girls like you, you know.” he drawled on.

 It should've scared you, his sudden interest in you. He had appeared out of nowhere, quite literally from nowhere, keening to the likes of you. But it made you feel special, knowing this mystery man was talking to you.

 “I’m not alone, you’re out here.” you giggled, stumbling forward towards his 6’5 frame. You felt a weird desire to be in this mans arms- though there was no doubt about it that it was the booze that rushed to your head. 

“You should be scared angel. Not stumbling towards a stranger, all doe eyed like that.” 

“But you seem nice!” you chirped out, forgetting your original mission to make way back to your home. You liked this man. You liked Ghostface. 

“ Mhm you’re lucky I am. I take pity on little girls like you.” His arm extended, tight black henley sleeves rolled up to his bulging biceps. Mystery mans hand was warm to the touch, the brush of skin against your own sent heat licking down your spine. It was then you noted the tattoo that was all too familiar, the twist and curves of black ink that bent around his wrist like a snake. 

Steve. 

“Steve?” The hand that shrugged off the mask confirmed your suspicions, long blonde hair curling at the nape of his neck, blue eyes sparked with mischief. 

“You really shouldn't be so vulnerable, ya know. What if I actually was a stranger? It’s dangerous.”

 The scolding began. You were too dazed out to fight back, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry, I really am. Just- just don’t tell B-bucky!” you hiccupped, praying he would help you. This was the first time you had needed Steve. Had wanted him to stay, and actually care. 

He clucked his tongue. “I won’t. But we need to get you home, yea? Silly girl. Silly, silly girl.”

 “I’m sorry.” was all you could mutter, stumbling as he squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance, fighting off the chill of the night air.

 “Don’t be stupid. You weren't thinking of going in the woods alone, were you? There really must not be a brain in there after all.” he mocked, taunting you as he guided you onwards, towards the creaking trees, their limbs dangling down like claws that would scratch your skin lean off, leave you bare and vulnerable. 

You took a deep breath, the fresh air heightening your senses as a twig snapped from under his weight, a soft tune leaving his lips as he whistled. You shuddered, leaning into him more, his larger hand in yours squeezing your digits a little tighter.

 “You scared angel?”

 “N-no. Never scared.” you lied, staring straight ahead, though you couldn't see much besides his flashlight beam aimed at the little path in front of you. 

“Not even when I spooked you that one time when you were with that pink bunny stuffie in your bedroom? What were you doing with it anyways?” 

Humping it to the thought of you, you wanted to confess but kept your lips shut. 

“Having a tea party.” you grumbled, to which he laughed. It brought you a sense of comfort in the moment- that laugh. It wasn't mean, or directed. It was just easy, carefree, and light as it bounced off an invisible sound barrier.

 He wasn't laughing at you. He was laughing with you.

 “Cute. You’re so cute bunny. You know that?” 

“No.” you giggled, cheeks heating as hot as the sun, whether it was from the booze or his affections, you didn’t know. It seemed like time was stretched and warped, the path ending as soon as it started when you were with Steve. 

You felt weirdly protected with him near, the warmth of his body drawing you closer, the scent of his cologne making your head spin as he murmured to you. It was hard to comprehend what he was saying, your mind in a different place as you stumbled into your backyard. 

The lights were off, the structure appearing empty and hollow as you stared up at it. “Looks like Bucko wouldn't of came anyways sweetheart.” he sighed, noting his car wasn't in the driveway, the doors appearing locked.

 “Does that mean I’m alone?” you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice. You didn’t think you could be alone tonight. You were too anxious and on edge to deal with the warped shadows, bending and following you like a contortionist. 

And if you puked, who said you’d be able to get off the bathroom tiles? 

“I’m staying with you angel. You’re too stupid to think for yourself right now.” 

You fought your urge to stick your tongue out at him, but you knew he was right. He teased you for having next to no thoughts in your brain all the time, but this time it was actually true.

 “Let’s go.” he tugged at your arm, causing u to stumble after him as he made his way towards the back door. His legs were so much longer than yours, stride extensive and full of authority. Steve knew exactly where to go, digging the key out of the hiding spot and unlocking the door. 

You didn’t even know how he knew where it was. You surely didn’t remember.

 The light flickered on, humming softly as it illuminated the little breakfast nook. “Steve why do you hate me?” you blurted out, hiccuping as you bent down to unbuckle your shoes, kicking them off by the door.

 His face contorted into a look of confusion as he peered down at you. “I don’t hate you bunny. Far from it.” 

You just nodded, taking his word for it. He was stumped by your level of compliance, as you normally would fight or bicker with him whenever he made a claim. But you were quiet, humming a little song as you trudged towards the stairs, hands out in front of you to guide you instead of turning on the rest of the lights.

 “Stev-” you gasped as suddenly your body was lifted from the ground, swung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Your head spun as you stared at the world from a much taller height, body squirming as he moved.

 A hand smacked your thigh that poked from under your little dress, making you yelp. “Stop squirmin girl. You're not walking up these stairs.” he grumbled, making the trudge up the rickety wooden stairs, hand rubbing your thigh as you felt your panties start to dampen. 

His hand was so warm, so nice as it stroked your skin, even when it stung. 

“I’m fully- fully able to walk up.” you slurred and he chuckled.

 “Mhm I don’t think you should think for yourself right now baby bunny.” he teased, and you giggled. Your bedroom door opened with a creak, and he walked you past the pink walls, past the frilly whites and endless stuffies as he plopped you down on your bed. 

You laid back with a sigh, tracing the soft sheets with your fingers, sinking into them as you closed your eyes. Steve felt himself getting harder and harder the longer he gazed at you, so soft and delicate- like a little doll. 

You were so in your element, basking in the comfort of the silk and cotton, just savoring how fuzzy you felt in the moment. 

“Can you help me with my costume Stevie?” you whispered, eyes fluttering open to smile at him. He thought he was dreaming. He needed to be pinched. 

But you needed his help, craved for his touch again as you lay there- almost helpless. You swung your leg up, toes curling against his abdomen in your socks, stretching your arms over your head.

 “You’re such a tease, you know that?” he murmured, tugging at each sock, peeing them away from your skin to reveal your bubblegum pink nail polish. 

“Mhmm so tired though Stevie. I can’t do anything.” 

“Oh I know.” he smirked, hands slowly inching their way up towards your thighs, fingers walking their way across your skin. 

“Just need your help, you gotta take care of me.” you giggled, back arching as he tugged at your dress, pulling off the rest of your costume. Your breasts were bared, shining in the pale moonlight as the air whooshed past his teeth. 

No bra.

 “Fuck. Fuck fuck.” he murmured as you giggled softly, batting your eyelashes at him as if you were a schoolgirl. “What’s the matter Stevie?” you asked, reaching for him, nails softly scraping against his biceps. 

“You’re so fucking adorable angel. Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah?” you smiled, grabbing his hand, guiding it down towards your lacey underwear that was now soaked, letting his fingers circle your button through the fabric. 

You moaned, back arching against the sheets as he smiled, that wicked grin that drove you wild. You couldn't help yourself. You were on cloud nine, head in the heavens from the way he looked at you, the way he touched you. 

Hands slipped up to grope your breasts, massaging them, squeezing each nipple as your mouth parted into an O shape, moaning his name. His hands slipped under your undergarments, fingers coaxing you open as your legs fell limp- purely under his control. Submissive and willing for him. 

It drove him wild, the sweet, innocent little sister of his best friend- the person he had craved for years was now under him looking like a doll.

 “Gotta open you up first princess. Don’t wanna hurt your sweet, little hole hm?” he whispered, thumb circling your clit, so sensitive under his flesh, aching for him. 

You were just so needy, practically begging him- words slurring as you humped his hand, mindlessly reaching for one of your stuffies to cling to as your body rode him. 

“Mhmm so… daddy..” you gasped out, emitting a low growl from his lips. You moaned into the fur of the animal, to which he quickly ripped away. 

“Don’t hide your sweet little noises for daddy baby, don’t you know better? We’re all alone here, just the two of us. But even if we weren't, wouldn't you want everyone to know how good daddy's fingers feel stuffed in your cunnie?” 

You nodded viciously, gasping for breath as heat licked down your spine, burning bright in your core as he rocked into you deeper. It was taken away in an instant, a startled gasp leaving your lips in disappointment before you saw his hands fumbling with his belt, muttering under his breath. 

“Fuck I’m sorry angel but I can't take this anymore.I need- I need to be inside you I’m-” 

You whimpered as he tugged down his bottoms as quickly as the two of you had entered this tangled affair, barely having a second to process what was happening before he was in you, and he was in you deep. 

Plunging straight to the hilt, hands clawing at his biceps as you moaned, cried his name so sweetly he almost combusted right then and there.

 “I’m so sorry angel I just- been waiting too long, FUCK you’re so goddamn tight n wet..” he murmured, head drooping low as he breathed you in, watched the way your juices coated his cock as he slipped out just slightly, only to plunge in even harder. 

You clung to him so nicely, as if you were just made for him and only him, delicate and dainty. It was so easy to make you drool, so easy to watch you melt deeper into the mattress as he used you as his own personal fleshlight, muscles tensing and flexing as they adjusted you to the exact positions he wanted you in. 

“You’re so good to me Stevie. So, so good, filling me…” you sighed, eyes hazy and glazed over as you peered up at him, admiring the man you hated with a passion, but the one you also craved like a drug. 

He was so careful with you, guiding your tipsy body home, but so rough and eager with you now, as if he was feral.

 “Stevie?” you asked softly, face distorting slightly the longer he looked at you, confusion now smeared across your face like a kids finger painting. “Stevie?” 

You were muffled- trapped underwater. Murky. 

His eyes flew open with a start, meeting yours as he blinked the fuzz away. His hand was so close to your body, just mere inches away from the place he had been touching you in his dream. 

“Mhm?” he asked, noting he had somehow ended shirtless in your bed, the girly bedsheets wrapped around his low midriff, and you fought not to stare down at his happy trail. 

“You were dreaming I think. Mumbling something.” you slurred, head smacking down back onto the pillow as he stared at you, your eyes now closed once more. 

He didn’t fully remember what had happened. He had teased you, felt you up, and helped you home. But now he was in your bed, despite the fact the two of you bickered constantly, and nothing had happened. 

Your little skimpy pj’s were still on. His boxers were on. Though he wished more than anything they were off, that everything was off and he could feel you the way he had ten seconds earlier. 

He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you fell back into a drunken slumber, hand slipping over to cup your warm cheek before he could stop himself. 

[streamafterlaughter]

Safe

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summary: a night out with your friends turns sour, but you’re rescued by an unexpected hero

A/N: i wrote a chapter based on this post for my main fic, but feel a desperate need to write it again putting more detail into it bc i love a fictional man covered in blood idk what to tell you!!! let me know if you want a part II, im feeling a miniverse comin’ on (dw, chapter 23 of FD is in the works, i promise!) reblogs and comments always appreciated!

tags/tw: friends to lovers, mentions of sexual harassment, blood, violence (eddie gets in a fight), swearing, slut shaming, confessions, drunkish!eddie. (lmk if i missed something!) fluff, angst, slight hurt/comfort. reader and eddie are about 22-23, out of high school, happy etc etc. best friend!robin and best friend!steve feature, of course.

—

Your friendship had been simple, at first. You and Eddie had met as kids, before boys had cooties and girls were lame. Eddie had been cornered on the playground, by some giants in the grade above you. They'd shoved him against the chain link fence, their greasy leader demanding he hand over his lunch money. When Eddie blubbered that he didn’t have any, that he hadn’t eaten lunch in weeks, the goons cackled at him, shoving him to the ground while calling him things like “trailer trash.” You couldn’t stand it, even at eleven years old. The poor kid, with hair buzzed closely to his scalp, dressed in all black, carrying around a battered notebook with doodles of dragons on its cover. Your face had warmed with anger, hands balled into fists ready to swing on the group that would outnumber you five to two, or five to one if you were being realistic. This kid clearly wasn’t a fighter.

“Hey!” You had shouted, stomping your worn out converse against the mulch of the playground. “What the hell are you doing, Jared?” You hadn’t been afraid to get in the kid’s face, brows furrowed together as you jabbed your tiny finger into his puffed out chest. “What’s he ever done to you, huh? I don’t think it’s his fault your mother left.” You know now, it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but it had worked. Jared’s goons had gone silent, anticipating his retort, but all he’d done was cry. What a bitch.

When he’d run, tail tucked between his legs, you’d turned to the cowering boy behind you, offering your hand. “You okay?”

He’d nodded, clearly still shaken up but trying to be brave. “I can take care of myself.” Of course, it had been embarrassing. Not because you were a girl, or younger than him, but you were braver. You didn’t give a shit what people thought of you. Even then, he could tell. You were fucking cool.

”Yeah, sure looked like it. Whatever. I’m Y/n.” You held out your hand to him again, this time to shake, like you were a seasoned lawyer, or something.

“Eddie.” He’d taken your hand, given it a brief shake, but you could tell he was nervous by the way your palm stuck to his.

”Hi, Eddie. You wanna walk to Benny’s with me? Get some burgers?”

He’d shaken his head. “I don’t have money.”

You’d only shrugged. “I got it.” You didn’t think mentioning that Benny was your uncle, or that you and your friends could always eat free, was worth mentioning. From that day on, you and Eddie had been inseparable.

—

The Hideout is loud. You’re wrapped around your best friend’s arm as he leads you through the bar. It’s the only time you’ve seen this place busy, let alone filled with people that don’t qualify for a discount at Denny’s.

The crowd must be the fault of the band. They're full of life on the tiny stage in the back of the bar, somehow convincing patrons to take to the sticky wooden floor to dance.

“You wanna drink, sweets?” You hear him even over the loud music, like a siren call meant only for you.

“Yes, please!” You look up at Eddie, who’s already staring at you. His rich brown eyes sparkle in the dancing stage lights, and you find your tongue in knots at the sight of him.

He nods, sliding his jacket from your shoulders before seating you at a table. “I’ll be right back!” He promises before skipping off to the bar. You keep your eyes trained on him, hypnotized by the way he glided towards the bar, weaving between the mass of gyrating bodies.

You can’t exactly pinpoint when your feelings for him started changing. You assume it had to have been high school. He started growing his hair out, dressing in leather and denim, and listening to a lot of heavy metal. Something about it was attractive to you, watching your best friend become the man he is now, at twenty three years old.

Even with an exterior most find scary, Eddie is still the kindest soul you know. That’s what really pulled you in. He’s always treated you with kindness and care, never once letting you leave his house angry, and knowing just what to say to calm you down. He always makes sure you’re home safe after a night drinking, sometimes even willing to forfeit his own fun to drive you to your place, or crash at his trailer.

Of course, these feelings have stayed stuffed deep, deep down. You can’t bring yourself to ruin what you have with him, risking your closest friendship to maybe be told what you want to hear.

“Hey! You still in there?” Eddie waves his decorated hand a few inches from your face, and you’re dragged back to earth. He places your drink on the table in front of you.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” He rests his chin on his knuckles, full attention on you, and you feel your face warm.

“Just happy to be out with you is all.” Not a lie, but not exactly the truth. Safe.

“Alright.” He’s never been one to pry. “You wanna dance?” The song has changed to something slower, and you try not to read into his timing as you nod your head cautiously, taking Eddie’s hand as he leads you to the floor.

Eddie places his hands on either of your hips, and you can’t help but stiffen. “This alright?” He must have felt it too.

“Yes, yeah,” You stumble to reassure him, nervous you’ll scare him off. He’s always been such a gentleman, so careful with you.

You drape your arms around his neck loosely, casually. Safely. Still just two friends, swaying to some angst ridden tune you can’t understand the words to.

—

It’s later when Steve and Robin arrive, already drunk from spending the night at a concert in the city. You’re still not down for the count, and Eddie’s nursing his sixth drink of the night as the music has switched from guitar driven to computer beats coming from a turntable.

“Since when does The Hideout hire DJs?” Robin shouts over the bass driven music, eyes squinting in the bright lights.

“Ever since the place sold to some big wig in Indy, they’ve been doing this shit on weekends!” Eddie informs her as Steve starts talking about how “this is actually a great business tactic.” You decide now is a good time to slip back to the bar for a refill.

Unfortunately, you are one of about fifty people to have that idea, and you groan as you fight to find an open space along the counter. You mumble “excuse me” after “sorry” after “move, please!” until you’ve almost reached the front. As you’re about to order, you feel a hand squeeze your ass.

You whip your head around, and come face to face with a large, muscular man in a tight t-shirt and even tighter jeans.

“Hey, baby,” He winks, the disgusting smirk on his face sending a chill through your body. “You here all by yourself, gorgeous?” Your throat tightens. This is what it’s like, you know that. You shouldn’t be by yourself, that was your mistake. Your throat tightens, impossibly dry, before looking back up at this man. He is seemingly a foot and a half taller than you, likely able to break you in half using only his bicep, and he’s is standing way too close. You can even smell the whiskey on his tongue. “Uh, well,”

“Cmon, let’s go dance, huh?” He interrupts, snatching your wrist with an iron grip, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he leads you towards the dance floor, already formulating an escape route. You’ll say you need to use the bathroom, then you’ll find your friends and leave. Easy enough, right? Unfortunately as you reach the dance floor, the song slows again and you find yourself flush against this beast of a man, his big arms caging you into his chest. You feel the tears start to well in your eyes, blurring your already obscured vision. Your heart drops into your stomach when you realize you are completely, fully, and hopelessly trapped.

—

“Sooo,” Robin turns to Eddie, who’s been staring across into space, daydreaming about you for the last five minutes. “Where’s your girl?”

“What?” He’d heard her, but he wants to hear it again. And again and again.

“Your baby, dingus! You’re one true-“

“Would you shut up?” He interrupts her slurring of teasing, aching jabs, feeling his face heat up with every syllable. “She’s not my- y’know, she’s not mine.”

“Oh, please!” Steve snorts, causing Eddie to whip his head to look at him. “We all know she’s yours, and you’re hers, and all that romantic bullshit, okay? No use trying to squirm out of it. Be grateful you got that much. We all know she loves you.”

He rolls his eyes, but his heart is skipping with each word. He wants to believe them, desperately. He can’t bring himself to have those hopes, though, not about you. He’d only disappoint you, or scare you off when he got too close. It’s better, keeping you at a distance. Safer.

“Is that… No,” Robin looks beyond Eddie, and he turns to follow her gaze. He finds you easily, the only figure he’d recognize in such a loud, multicolored environment. You’re squished against a boulder of a man as you sway to the music, but he can’t see your face. Eddie feels his heart catch in his throat as he turns back to his friends.

“See? I told you she’s not mine.” He clears his throat when he hears his own voice crack. Not fucking now.

“Who is that guy?” Steve asks, craning his neck to get a better view.

“Probably just some club sleaze, she’s probably not even having fun.” Robin shrugs. Her comment clicks in Eddie’s brain before it clicks in her own, though.

“I gotta go.” He shoves himself from the table.

“Should I go with him?”

Robin shrugs. “That dude is gigantic. Maybe watch his back.”

—

“Hey, um,” The song has ended, and you need to get the fuck out of here. “I’ll be right back, I gotta use the ladies’ room,” You peel yourself away from him, but he grabs your arm before you can.

“Nuh uh, you can use the bathroom at my place. C’mon.” There will be no talking yourself out of this. Usually you can confuse a man into leaving you alone, but this guy’s different. You can sense the danger, the complete lack of empathy, like it’s a scent he’s giving off. You have to make a scene.

You twist your arm, writhing to get out of his grip, when you feel the cooling rings of a familiar hand on your shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice is low, so this man/monster can’t hear him. “I’m gonna get you out of here. Hang on.” He moves in front of you, between you and the giant causing him to drop your arm. There’s an angry red ring of his lasting grip around your wrist. “You gotta problem, buddy?” The guy puffs his chest out at Eddie, like some weird, animalistic instinct to seem bigger. Like he needs that advantage.

“Yeah, I do. Why were your hands on my girl?”

You try not to think about the words too much. Despite the situation though, you feel your heart skip. Steve joins him beside you, placing his hand on your other shoulder protectively.

“Your girl, huh? Well your girl’s a fuckin’ slut then, she’s been dancing with me for the last ten minutes.”

“What the fuck did you just call her, you prick?”

“You heard me bitch boy, she’s a slut! And I like my girls dirty.” Before Eddie can respond, the guy swings his arm into Eddie’s unsuspecting face as you watch, frozen and helpless. Your hands fly to your mouth to muffle the shriek, but you catch the attention of some nearby patrons.

Eddie doesn’t go down, though. The adrenaline keeps him on his feet. “Oh, we’re doin’ this now?” Eddie smirks as he wipes the blood from his split lip. “Cmon, I know you got more in ya than that. You’re massive!” Eddie taunts him before launching at the guy, managing to double him over with a punch to the gut. “You’ll have to do more than that if you want her, big guy. I’ll lay down my fuckin’ life in this bar for that woman.”

The crowd has now turned their attention to where Eddie’s got the brute in a headlock. He gets one more punch in before his opponent breaks out of his grasp, sending his elbow straight into Eddie’s nose. “Oh, ho, ho,” Eddie cackles maniacally as he lifts away from the counter, blood now dripping from his nostrils into his mouth, staining his skin and his shirt. “Look at you, tough guy.” He spits a mouthful of blood onto the bar floor. “Real big of you beatin’ on someone a quarter your size.”

Before anyone else can make a move, the bouncers are rushing up behind them, escorting both men out the front entrance while you follow behind with Steve and Robin. It takes six guys to move the giant, leaving Eddie to comply with the disgruntled manager. You watch as your adversary curses at Eddie before walking into the night, disappearing before anyone could think to call the cops.

“Oh my god, what the fuck?!” Robin is laughing nervously as she looks between you and Eddie, then to Steve with that annoying, know-it-all glint in her eyes.

“Eddie, he could have fuckin’ killed you!” Steve, ever the babysitter, scolds his friend with an elbow to his ribs, causing Eddie to wince in pain.

“Yeah, maybe, but if it meant keeping her safe-,” He cuts himself off as he meets your teary eyes. “Oh, no. Sweets, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, barely able to look at the bloody boy in front of you. He’s hurt because of you. You were supposed to keep him safe.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie.” You whisper, afraid your voice will betray you for speaking at full volume. “You shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have let you.” The tears are warm on your cheeks when they spill, and as quickly as they do, you have six arms wrapped around you.

—

“Get some rest, we’ll see you guys tomorrow.” You shut the cab door behind you before following Eddie into his trailer. You don’t want to be alone tonight, and Eddie has graciously offered a sleepover at his place.

“How’s your face?” You ask, already on your way to the freezer for an ice pack.

“I’m fine, honey, I promise.” His voice says otherwise, low and scratchy from a night of straining it. “How are you doing, though?”

It’s a loaded question. How are you supposed to feel, watching your best friend risk his life for you? You’re grateful, sure, but the guilt eats at you still. “I’m just so, so sorry Eddie,” You carefully lift your hand to caress his swollen cheek. “You really didn't have to do that.”

“What was I supposed to do? Let him hurt you? I couldn’t live with myself.” He shakes his head, wincing in pain. “I meant what I said. I’d risk my life to keep you safe.”

You shake your head, not accepting his answer. “Why?” It’s meek, barely a whisper as you blot the remaining blood from his lip.

“What do you mean why?” His words are muffled by the tissue.

You huff, getting upset despite yourself. “You’re telling me you’d put yourself in danger if it meant keeping me out of it? What’s the point? Why do that to yourself because I’m too stupid to make the right decisions? What do you gain from that?”

He shakes his head, clearly frustrated. “Do I have to gain something from it? I do it because I love you, y/n. Simple as that.” You gape at him, and he rolls his eyes, the beginning of a smirk twitching on his face. “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“It would be helpful, yes.” You’re just about begging now, the nervous sweat causing your shirt to stick to you.

“Sweets, I accepted that I would die for you a long fuckin’ time ago. If it meant keeping you happy, I would tie myself to the train tracks. Or, in this case, let some fucker twice my size beat the living shit out of me.”

You can’t accept it, logically. Your brain won’t let you believe any of his claims. “But I don’t-“

“No.” His voice is stern, almost scolding. “No more of that ‘I don’t deserve you’ shit. Okay? Absolutely not. Because you do. You saved my life all those years ago, and I promised myself I’d make sure to protect yours, too. You are my best friend, and the absolute love of my life, so I’m gonna give you everything I’ve got.” He laces his fingers with yours, and you watch as his rings catch the light.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel that way about me, I’ll never ask you for that, it wouldn’t be fair. But I can’t stand by when you’re in trouble, it’s not what I do.”

Your heart is fighting to free itself from your ribcage. It wants to jump from your skin, straight into Eddie’s open palms. Though the ever present coward in you wishes to curl up inside yourself and hide from him, everything else in your body is being pulled towards him, compelled as if by nature.

Before you even notice you’re crying again, Eddie wraps himself around your shaking frame, rubbing soothing patterns on your back as you sob, open mouthed and ugly, into his t-shirt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m right here.” He coos, and you focus on his breathing, matching the pace to calm the stutter of your cries.

You claw at his jacket, inhaling his scent of cigarettes and pine soap. You need him closer. He tightens his grip on you, and you look up to face him. His own cheeks are wet with tears, his eyes screwed shut trying to stifle the bite of the wracking sobs you know the strength of well. This is the only chance you’re getting, so you move with calculation. Despite the anxious pounding of your heart, and everything in your head telling you that he’s not yours and never could be, you crane your neck to reach Eddie’s split and swollen lips, squeezing your eyes shut as you place your mouth on his, ever so gently.

Before Eddie can react, you’re gone, face inches away from him as his eyes flutter open. “Whoa. Uh, w-what… what are you doing?” He sputters, face now bright red, and you feel your own cheeks blush.

“I’m- I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed… ” You cover your mouth with your hand to hide the shame, feeling the fire in your stomach. You have just ruined years of friendship, and for one stupid kiss! But Eddie’s beaming, and he’s still gripping you close to him. “I've just wanted to do that for so long.” You admit shyly, shifting against his grip, ready to retreat, but he holds you tighter.

“Can you do it again?” His voice is more confident now. You’re not sure you’ve heard him correctly, but when you look at him, it’s undeniable.

You mirror his smile, nodding before leaning into him again. He makes the connection, taking the lead as your body contorts around his, lips locking together as he holds you flush against him. His lips are so soft, and he’s so gentle with you, even though you can tell he’s eager, like maybe he’s also wanted to do this for a while. The thought causes you to smile against his lips, and you feel his own lips stretch against yours as your hands move from his shoulders to his hair.

One of his hands moves from your waist to caress your face, holding your jaw like a precious pearl he’s discovered after years at sea. Your tears fall freely now, ones of overwhelming love for Eddie, ones you never could have hoped to shed, content letting them simmer in the pit of your throat if it meant keeping your best friend. You’re breathless when he lets you go, fighting the urge to chase after his lips. After almost a decade of wondering what Eddie would taste like, what kissing him would feel like, now you get to know. “I have been in love with you since that day on the playground,” He confesses, tightening his arms around your waist to keep you close. “But I’m such a chicken shit, I didn’t wanna ruin anything. You were so sweet to me, I couldn’t risk losing that, losing you.” The words seem to spill from him now, like he’s been craving to tell you. You suppose he has.

You take in the sight of your best friend, battered and bruised for the sake of your honor, like a knight thrown into battle without armor. He’s beautiful, even in black and blue. You bring your hand to his cheek, rubbing small circles on his skin as he leans into your touch. You could stay here forever, you think. “I love you too, Eds. I have for as long as I can remember.” He smiles at you, lip splitting again but he doesn’t even flinch. You return the grin, feeling your cheeks ache from how wide you’ve stretched your mouth. “Thank you for keeping me safe.” You kiss him again, letting yourself taste the blood he’d spilled for you, a silent promise that you’ll make sure he never has to again.

-

taglist @children-of-the-grave :p

[superblysubpar]

🥺 so um for your dad blurbs, what about like a lil ‘meet cute’ sitch with singledad!eddie x singlemom!reader. maybe their lil toddlers become friends on the playground or somethin’?? idk idk feel free to ignore me!! 💗

cece um what? why why why would I ignore you or this?! Sorry this one too got away from me, I can't seem to write teeny tiny blurbs guys. Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you like it! 💛dad blurbs

summary: see above Eddie deals with his daughter throwing a tantrum but - this is fluff warnings: single mom reader, descriptions of wiggling worms and reader touching them so if you ain't into bugs sorry | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is - please respect this

1.5k words

Why Do Worms Exist?

singledad!eddie munson x singlemom!reader

Hands tugging at his curls in impatience as he juggles the backpack, the keys, the twelve leaves left in his custody and the angry toddler in his arms. 

“Down!” she tugs harsher and he huffs. 

Haircuts and baths seemed to be the only time his kid felt like reminding him that she was in fact his kid. Squirming and wrestling and shrieking loud enough the glass on the apartment windows could pop. He was grateful for his daughter, don’t get him wrong. Reminding himself whenever the demon possessed her during those moments that she’d be his quiet and wonderful kid again soon. 

But no one could have predicted that walking and exploring and learning would hit around the same time as Autumn in Hawkins - well okay, maybe someone else could have other than him. But no one, including Eddie could have foreseen that his unique and already quirky baby girl would be fascinated by any and everything that season had to offer her. And, really, how could he have predicted the meltdowns about these things when he told her she couldn’t take them all home with her?

Fucking leaves. 

And worms. Why’d his kid have to like worms? 

Maybe that was his own fault for calling her Bug. Were worms bugs? Were they their own…species? Jesus Christ he barely got his diploma and now here he is with a kid having a level thirteen meltdown about leaves. What happened when she got older and had questions about these things she found fascinating and he had nothing to offer her? Maybe Dustin would have a book on it. Or Robin. She’s into weird stuff and random facts. 

Eddie sucks in his breath as Sam yanks one curl particularly hard and realizes that if it’s bad now, the very near future of Spring would be even worse. And oh god, the rain and the mud and even more worms and his heart starts racing faster as he thinks about how much bigger she’d be come then. She’d put up even more of a fight. 

He finally gets the pack over his shoulder, the keys tucked safely in a pocket. Sammy’s butt supported under his arm and his hand with the leaves wrapped around her back. Twelve leaves - they’d barely made it down the sidewalk. 

She pushes against his chest, cheeks red and flushed to match her bright red rain boots dangling and kicking dangerously close to unwanted territory and he winces, “Hey, hey, watch it Bug. Getting too close for comfort there.”

Eddie knows she didn’t catch any of that and her tiny hands wind fists into his hair and her chin wobbles as he prepares for the wail to come and he squeezes his eyes shut. Only to be met with fiercer squirming and a head butt to his jaw that makes his ears ring, “Ouch! Sammy, come on, you can get down soon!”

He didn’t yell, but he definitely raised his voice more than he meant to. Sam cries and cries like he’d seen other kids do when heading in the opposite direction of the park. As they round the corner he can see the bright reds, yellows, and blues of the slides and jungle gym.

“Look, Bug, swings,” trying and failing to calm her down with a favorite word and activity. He sighs as other parents look his way as he gets closer. Sure, his kids shrieking was disturbing the peace but theirs screaming on the playground was fine. Gossiping and judging girls from high school who grew up into moms but didn’t outgrow anything else.

He sits on the bench as Sammy pulls and yanks more, closing his eyes again. Eddie presses his forehead to hers, wincing every time she hits against it. He speaks quietly, “Bug, come on, listen to daddy. Calm down.” 

He sets the leaves on the bench and the crying stops almost instantly. He opens his eyes, Sam’s temple to his nose, crocodile tears trailing down her cheeks and tiny chubby hands reaching towards the pile. 

“Leeb,” she hiccups and grabs at the pile. 

Eddie holds her in a firm lock, hand rubbing soothing circles up and down her back, “Leaf?”

She grunts, trying to squirm away again and she whines, “Pwease!”

Heart aching because she’s trying to say please, and she knows that’s the nice way to ask as she calms down. But god, he can’t have her bringing home every leaf from the park.

“Bug,” he taps the pile, “Leaves stay here. Not coming home with us. Leaves stay outside.” 

She huffs and he watches in wonder and awe as she nods and whispers, “Owside leebs.”

He grins. He did it. He dealt with a tantrum while judgey moms watched and his daughter is smart. She understood so much and she was probably gonna be a scientist or some crazy awesome shit he couldn’t even come up with. 

Eddie kisses her nose and wipes her cheeks with his thumbs, body relaxing, “Right. Outside leaves. Ready to go play?”

She shimmies out of his grasp, legs dangling until her boots hit the ground and she wanders toward the playground only to pick up a stick. Poking at the dirt and he covers his smile when she sits. Her plaid jumper and tights dragging and collecting all the dirt and leaves they can manage. 

A little boy sits next to her and she smiles at him, a dimple popping out and extending a stick to him like Eddie had taught her to share. He swallows harshly when she grabs his hand and they waddle to a particularly muddy puddle. 

Oh fuck. She’s gonna get even older and the meltdowns aren’t gonna be about fucking worms they’re gonna be about boys or drinking or-

“You look like you’re dealing with some extreme and sudden realizations right now.”

Eddie glances up to see you standing near his bench, smiling kindly and a cup of coffee in your hands. He’s taken aback one because an adult is talking to him instead of standing off to the side and judging and two because holy shit were you pretty. 

He gulps audibly, “I-uh,” he glances back at his daughter who’s fully laying in the dirt on her stomach now and he smiles, “Yeah, uh I guess you could say that.”

Gesturing to his kid and the little boy, “I see yours is corrupting mine. Believe it or not we’d managed to stay away from dirt until today.”

Eddie grins widely, “Well wait till he finds all the things crawling around in the dirt and wants to take them home.”

Your gloved hand presses to your cheek, dragging it down as you groan loudly, “Why do worms exist?”

He watches you watch the kids, your face melting into warmth and that sappy wow that’s mine look he knows he gets with Sammy all the time. He’s a goner if you’re single. 

Gesturing to the bench and scooting over he sighs, “Pretty sure only to torture parents.”

“Great. Can’t wait,” you deadpan and sit, removing your gloves and extending a hand to him and introducing yourself.

Just because there isn’t a ring doesn’t mean anything. He shakes it back, “Eddie.” 

Nodding your head to the little boy who’s flinging dirt around wildly with his stick, “That’s Parker. My right hand guy.”

Eddie straightens and sees the webs across the backpack you’re stuffing the gloves in and smirks, “As in Peter?”

Clearing your throat and taking a sip of your coffee before continuing, “Yeah, I’m shameless. I named my kid after my favorite superhero, okay? I was alone and drugged up on all the painkillers they could legally give me.”

Alone. 

He waves his hand, “It’s okay, mine's after a Lord of the Rings character.”

You smile at him, shy and sweet. He should just ask right? Or offer up his own information. Is it like just sharing your phone number with a girl? Hey, I’m Eddie, I’m a single parent are you? Not sure what’s about to come out of his mouth, but he’s stopped as his daughter decides she wants to be the worst wingwoman on planet earth right at that moment. 

“Hole pwease,” her tiny voice brings his attention down, extending her dirt smothered hands out to you.

Your mom instincts kick in, holding out your hands like it’s nothing but Eddie knows exactly what Sammy is about to drop in your hands. He’s not quick enough when he leans forward though, 

“No, Bug, don’t-”

Several squirming worms drop down into your palms and he watches your eyes go wide. You don’t freak out or grimace though, instead you smile and extend your hands out further when your son drops more into the pile. 

Your smile is bright, cheeks popping and eyes shimmering and your laugh swirls around his heart as you speak to them in a way that makes his stomach flutter, “Woah you guys! Look at all these awesome worms!”

He watches in awe as you ask their names and sit patiently with wiggling worms in your hands as they point and poke at them and his daughter holds one up closer to your face and your eyes go wide and she giggles.

He’s a total and absolute goner. 

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE VILLAIN DEKU X READER

You were a 5 year old cute adorable shy little girl but wasn't afraid to protect your loved ones. You were going to the playground to practice using your quirk which by the way, was Nuclear Explosion. you were about to play on the swing and just then, you saw a certain green broccoli haired boy getting bullied by a loud angry ash blonde who suspiciously, looked like a rat or a hedgehog on crack

''Face it Deku! I'm better than you and you're just a quirkless pathetic waste of space who will NEVER surpass me and don't waste your time aiming to be a hero'' snarled the blonde as the green haired kid looked like as if he was about to cry. The blonde haired boy pushed him and he fell and that's what made your blood boil in anger.

''Hey! Stop bullying him you big meanie!'' you yelled and stuck your tongue at him. ''What did you say to me you damn extra?'' shouted the blonde kid. You fired your nuclear explosions at him and his 3 goons and they left in a hurry after that. "I'll get you for this you damn extra, whatever the hell your name is!'' he shouted. ''I have a NAME and it's Y/N you big moron!'' You helped the green haired kid get up and he had some tears in his eyes and was clutching an all might figurine, someone who you were fond of as well

''Are you all right?'' you asked the green haired kid as he nodded and stuttered that he was fine. He introduced himself as Izuku Midoriya and the blonde who bullied him was Kaachan or Katsuki bakugou. ''Come on, I'll help you clean up, you have a pretty big bruise there on your knee'' and led him towards a park bench. You patched it up with a band-aid as Izuku saw your tiny soft magical hands at work. He turned red whenever you touched him and his face was becoming flushed and his heart beat faster than ever. ''Are you okay? Do you have a fever?'' you asked him and touched his forehead and he shook his head vigorously. You both became best friends after that and you stood up for him whenever Katsuki bullied him. Little did you know, even Katsuki had grown feelings towards you. Fast forward to where you guys are in middle school cuz, I'm too lazy (lol)

Izuku's POV: Here I am, waiting for Y/N chan in front of her house so we can go to school together. I really LOVE and enjoy having her around. She always helps me when Kaachan bullies me and she's really kind and caring. But... why does my chest hurt so much when she talks to other people and gives them her attention? I hate it when Y/N spends her precious time with someone else.... They don't deserve her. They don't deserve her attention. I wish I could be strong so I could protect her just like a knight in shining armor and all that. 

''Izuku!'' chirped a cheerful and yet soft female voice snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Y/N looking at me with her beautiful eyes. "Shall we get going?'' she asked me. "S-sure'' I stuttered. We were on the way to our middle school and we witnessed a fight between our idol All Might and a villain. ''Oh my gods, LOOK!'' gasped Y/N and clutched my arm looking nervous. Of course, I turned pink but she didn't see it, thank goodness. We were watching the fight and finally All Might won. I wanted to talk to him and I asked Y/N to go on without me even though I was reluctant to leave her alone. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her but..... I needed to talk to All Might alone. "All Might, do-d- do you think I could still become a hero without a quirk?'' and when All Might gave me his answer, it shattered my heart into a million pieces. He said I couldn't be a hero without a quirk and I was devastated! All my hopes and dreams crushed within less than a second! I went to school feeling like garbage since that's exactly how I felt right now. Maybe Kaachan was right..... maybe I shouldn't be a hero..... I'm just a pathetic quirkless nobody. I went to school and when our homeroom teacher announced that me, Y/N and Kaachan wanted to get into the UA, people started snickering at us. Well, at me mostly. Y/N asked them to shut up and then got into a heated argument with Katsuki and finally ended up in detention, along with him. I have to admit, Y/N gotten bolder and it's really cute and adorable. 

But I wasn't going to let MY darling Y/N chan be ALONE with Kaachan for an ENTIRE hour. Who knows what he's going to do to her? So, in order for her not to be lonely and to keep an eye on Kaachan to make sure he doesn't try anything with my puppy, I NEED to get detention too. So, I purposefully looked like as if I wasn't paying attention to the teacher and what do you know? I got detention as well.... 

The bell finally rang and soon, it was time for detention. Y/N headed out and told me she'd wait for me at the detention room. I was about to follow her when Kaachan pulled me back by my collar and hissed, ''Stay the HELL away from Y/N. She's MINE and I LOVE her, you understand, you DAMN nerd?'' and burned my wrists a little. ''Kaachan stop it, I love her too'' I said and that's how burns decorated my body yet again. ''Just stay away from her and why not take a swan dive off a roof? If you're lucky you'll wake up with a quirk in your NEXT life'' and burned  my hero analysis notebook to ash. Y/N chan comforted me during detention and swore that she'd pulverize him to death but I shook my head. Soon, it was time for us to go home but I didn't go home. No. I went somewhere and met someone who changed my life forever and made me see things in a different perspective..... That day had completely changed me and no doubt, my darling Y/N chan would certainly have tears in her eyes but I'll wipe them off and comfort her.... After all... I'm the ONLY one she needs.....

Y/N's POV: It' been 2 years since my best friend Izuku went missing. I never liked calling him 'Deku' since it meant useless and it was given to him by that hot headed hedgehog Katsuki. I swore to myself that I'd gain my pro hero licence and the second I do, I would do WHATEVER I could to find him and get him back. His mother was out of her mind with worry every single day and I would comfort her before going to the UA, the most prestigious school in Japan for upcoming heroes. Unfortunately, even Kaachan got in too. I went to Mrs. Midoriya's house and comforted her and went to the UA. Seeing the building always made me have glistening tears in my eyes since it was our dream to be in the UA together and now.... that was all just a mirage. I made my way to class 1a and while Katsuki was glad that Izuku didn't come to the UA, I told him to shut up. ''This all your fault. You always used to bully him and its because of you he's.... he's gone'' I said angrily as Katsuki replied, ''Tch... why do you even care about that quirkless nerd?'' ''He was my FRIEND!'' I shouted and by now, everyone in class 1a turned to stare at us but I didn't care 

Classes dragged on as usual and when we went to the grounds for hero training, we heard the school's security's alarms blaring loudly. ''Quick! Everyone, stay in the classrooms! The pro heroes will ensure you're safe! There are villains attacking!'' yelled Present Mic over the speakers and just as we were about to make a run for it, a purple portal opened up in front of us and out came a buff well built looking guy with a green mask, with a blue haired crusty looking person and a blonde haired girl wearing a school uniform 

The green haired guy removed his mask and I recognized his freckles along with his emerald eyes and his green hair. Slowly it was starting to hit me.... Izuku, my dear friend was a.... villain!!?? 

''Izuku?'' I whispered and looked shocked as hell and so did Katsuki. "What the HELL you DAMN nerd?'' ''Ah.... an old reunion among childhood friends. How sweet'' said Izuku smiling sickly. ''Stay back'' threatened Aizawa. '' Izuku, why did you become a.... a villain?'' I asked him with tears in my eyes. '' Ah... my darling Y/N chan. Sweetheart, who wouldn't become one after they've been let down by their idol and on top of that being bullied for being quirkless? That arrogant ego filled jerk KATSUKI bullied me till NO ENDS!! And heck! Even my own MOM gave up on me after she found out I was quirkless! But Y/N... you were the only one who gave me hope.... You made me happy, you always supported me, cheered me on.... Join me Y/N... Join me and I'll make sure to treat you like the princess that you deserve to be treated. To hell with this corrupted tainted hero society!'' he roared but I shook my head and ran away from him. ''Y/N chan, love, You can't escape me~'' and released some purple fog all around us. Then, I felt something hit my head and pretty soon, the only only thing I could sense was people yelling and shouting as my consciousness slowly drifted.....  

3rd Person POV: You woke up on a surprisingly comfortable bed but your hands were chained to the bed's headboard. You started hollering through your gag, making muffled noises. Soon a blue haired man and your friend Izuku appeared. ''Ask you girlfriend to join us or die.'' said the crusty looking man, as he removed your gag and you yelled, "I'm NEVER joining the LOV! Izuku, this ISN'T YOU! Why are you doing this!? How could you?'' you screamed at him with tears in your eyes. You couldn't use your quirk since he had placed a quirk canceling collar on you

He unchained you and rubbed your back in a somewhat soothing manner, waiting for you to calm down. ''Do... do you have any idea how WORRIED your mom was'' you asked him, as he quickly kissed you on your lips in order to shut you up. You tried fighting him, but gave in to him in the end. He broke the kiss and cuddled you and whispered hoarsely.... '' I love you Y/N my precious doll.... your MINE and ONLY MINE, no one else's..... And you will learn to love me at some point.....

BONUS SCENE: Toga: Uhh.... Dabi, you Do realize that if you're planning to flirt with Y/N Deku's gonna murder you, right?

Dabi: Yeah you stab queen, I figured that out, but I'm not going to lie, she was pretty good looking

Shigaraki: You're all idiots. 

Izuku: What. the HELL. did you say about MY Y/N?? 

Dabi: Uhhh....n-nothing. She's absolutely PERFECT for you and she's like my little sister. (Chuckles nervously)

Izuku: (smiles in a way no creepy serial psychotic serial killer would) Good to know.

P.S: This convo takes place AFTER you're nicely sleeping on DEKU's bed, END OF STORY

[blood-red-hummingbee]

Picnics in the Park

Nyehehehe 2 am married JackRose thoughts go brrrrrrr

RORY BELONGS TO @screamintoad <3 <3 <3

Rose stretched, the sun warm on her face. Rory and Ace sit next to her, chatting as they eat their food. She crossed her legs out in front of her, admiring her just visible belly bump. Pregnancy itself wasn’t very enjoyable, but the result was. Looking up, she smiled. Jack was pushing a giggling Joey on the swing. She turned back to her friends on the picnic blanket, Ace squawking as Rory laughed about something - probably whatever joke had his husband as the butt. Adorable.

Rory glanced at her, then turned his head a little, his gaze shifting to the side. “Oop. It's a person.”

Frowning, Rose turned to where he was looking, back in the direction of the swings. Jack was still pushing Joey, but his soft smile was gone, and on the swing next to them was some lady and a child who looked like they definitely did not need nor want her to push them. She wasn’t paying the kid any mind, half-heartedly shoving them as she yapped at Jack. Rose felt her eye twitch. Her husband was definitely a treat when he was interacting with their son, the woman’s attraction was more than understandable. The obnoxious behavior was not.

“Jeez, take a hint, lady.” Ace muttered, his attention drawn to the annoying woman. “Uh… Rose, you good?”

She glanced back at the man. “Oh, I wanna skin her. I also don’t really wanna get up. It’s fine, the disappointment will hit her harder than I ever could. Just look at him…”

Even when he was annoyed, Jack was handsome.

Rory snorted. “Simp!”

“Mmhmm, you know it.”

Her best friend laughed. She was most definitely deeply in love with her husband, but it had become an exaggerated joke between the two.

“I’m gonna go fuck with her.” Rose stated, finishing off her tumbler of (unfortunately decaf) coffee. Rory stifled his chuckles, looking up at her. “What?”

“Help me up!” She made grabby hands at him. She could get up by herself perfectly fine - she wasn’t really that big yet and still as fit as ever - but why should she? He scoffed, but helped her up anyway, well aware that she was playing it up, a smile starting to fight its way onto his face through the faux annoyance. “Try not to do anything illegal!” He called after her as she started towards the playground.

“Oh, please, I save the illegal stuff for Ace!”

Rory cackled as Ace dramatically bemoaned how evil she was. She snickered, both at her friends’ theatrics and the thought of messing with the lady - who had gone silent and was now awkwardly pushing the preteen on the swing. It was almost punishment enough. Almost. Ace may have been exaggerating, but she knew full well that she could be petty. She reveled in it, even.

“My! Just who is this cutie? What’s your name, handsome little guy?” She cooed as she approached the swing Joey was sitting on, his face lighting up at her approach, albeit a bit confusedly. He’s a smart boy though, catching onto the fact that she was playing around. “I’m Joey!” He proclaimed happily, his words soft, round and slightly cut off in true toddler fashion. “What’s yours?”

Rose crouched in front of him - the action still manageable thankfully, even though it wouldn’t be for long. “My name’s Rose! What about your Papa here, do you know his name?” She asked, glancing up at her husband and winking. He smiled back, that soft smile just for her and Joey. It made her melt every time.

“Papa’s name is Jack!” Joey announced, proud of himself. Recently, he had learned that his parents have names outside of ‘Mama’ and ‘Papa’ and he had gone around to everyone he knew, informing them. It was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.

Rose giggled, standing up again. “What a nice name! Strong and handsome, just like Papa, huh?”

Jack laughed softly, raising an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?”

She hummed. “Yup. You look just like him, y’know that Joey?”

He nodded. “Uh-huh! Mama says tha’ alllll the time!”

She wanted to laugh and shower the boy in kisses for being so cute and catching onto her game so quickly, but she had to wait. She could see the disgruntled woman from the corner of her eye - but even if she couldn’t, the death stare being drilled into her head was palpable.

“Does she now? Is Mama around here anywhere?”

Jack snorted, indulging her. “Yeah, she’s around.” He said, giving her a questioning look. She spared him a quick, sly smirk before forcing her expression into a pout. “Really? Now that is a damn shame.”

Finally, her target took the bait. The woman scoffed. “That’s not appropriate language to use around a child, miss.” She curled her lip at Rose, and she came so close to laughing. After all the Overblots, this woman looked about as intimidating as a kitten. “He said she’s around so get lost. Or are you gonna keep harassing them and trying to break up a family?” She sneered.

Rose gasped, holding her hand to her chest. “Oh my gosh, you are so right! Joey, where’s your Mama, I need to say sorry!”

The boy seemed put off by the woman, but quickly smiled and giggled back. He held up a chubby finger and pointed at Rose herself. “Here!”

She gasped again looking up at Jack - who seemed like his self control was waning, his jaw clenched tight as he kept his attention focused on his family, not the woman beside them. She gave her husband a bright smile. “I can’t believe it! I’m Mama! Does that mean Papa and I are married?” She asked Joey, putting her hand to her chin and pretending to be deep in thought. The little boy nodded excitedly. “Yeah! An’ we live in a house an’ you an’ Papa have a room an’ kiss, which is icky!”

She laughed, finally pulling him into her arms and planting a kiss on top of his head. “Really? Well, that’s just amazing, I can’t imagine anyone better to live with!”

She tickled his sides and he squealed, squirming and giggling. Glancing at the woman, her mouth was hanging open slightly, the kid who was sitting on the swing in front of her gone. Jack’s jaw was still clenched, but there was a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes betraying the satisfaction he got from her petty mischief.

With Joey now on her hip, her lower back was protesting but she ignored it. “Say, how hungry are you boys? Uncle Rory and Uncle Ace might eat all the sandwiches if we don’t haul ass back!”

Rose had thought it was over, that the woman was done and would refrain from opening her mouth again. She was wrong. Apparently, she felt like embarrassing herself more. “That’s still not appropriate language for children!” She screeched, her tone shrill. She made a show of looking Rose up and down.

Rose was in a sleeveless top and shorts - what with the summer heat - and her tattoos were on display. The woman's gaze snagged on her face as well, clearly judging her piercings and dyed hair.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Dude, seriously? How desperate can you get? You went from making the understandable mistake of flirting with a handsome guy you didn’t know was married to being a judgemental bigot. Well done, genius.” She bounced Joey a little. “Hey buddy, do you get to say ‘damn’ and ‘ass’?”

He shook his head. “Those a’ grown up words. I say dang an’ butt though!”

She smiled, rubbing her nose against his. “Damn right. You’re so eloquent for how old you are, you know that? I bet it's all those books you read, good job buddy!” 

He cheered and started talking about a book he’d read the other day - something about dinosaurs. She happily smiled and nodded along, adding sounds of astonishment in all the right places. Jack wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as they left the fuming woman to stew.

Getting back to their picnic blanket, Joey restarted his dinosaur story so Uncle Ace and Rory could hear it too, and Rose happily sat down, leaning back against Jack’s chest.

Rory glanced up as Joey essentially climbed into Ace’s lap so he could hear him better. “So, no one’s dead or in jail. Well done, sistah!”

Rose snorted, grinning widely. “Why, thank you! Quite proud of myself, actually. She’s lucky I was in a good mood today!” She said, faking a posh accent.

Their conversation carried on, though she doesn’t know exactly what they said, as Jack wrapped his arms around her, resting his hands on her belly. “I love you.” He murmured, just loud enough for her to hear with his chin on her shoulder. She smiled softly, running her hands along his arms. She was still talking to her best friend, but she knew that he knew that she reciprocated the sentiment wholeheartedly. She loved her family, and nothing would ever change that.

~

Tagging: @skriblee-ksk, @gimmeurmoneyagh, @babyghoul138

If you wanna be tagged for JackRose content, lmk <3

[cheerstotheelites-if]

Number 37 Jasiel

Spotify Song #37: ES - Crying (one of my favorite songs actually)

For the small Jasiel fanbase, this is for you 🫶

How does the world percieve me? Perceiving myself All I care to do is sip on beer and chocolate milk I'm frightened more than usual lately

~•~•~

It's not often you find the town's golden boy to be out in places he shouldn't be. Of course, who would consider such a fact? A saint such as him shouldn't be found in back alleys smoking whatever, or getting into bars and drinking away his holiness. No, a divine figure should linger in similar, familiar places where he is to be kept pristine and unmarked.

But instead you find him in the local park amongst the people, where no one bats him an eye as they pass by.

He's sitting on a bench, feet on his skateboard that moves side to side with the swing of his legs every now and then. The hood of his fur-lined parka is raised to his head, obscuring his features as he has his head lowered and looking through his phone. He's leaned forward, elbows on his knees, making him look more like a shady thug than anyone normal.

The only time he lifts his head is upon hearing you come over. The messiness of his ponytail can be seen peeking from underneath the hood, seeing how his long bangs are in a dire need to join and not obscure parts of his face, and you can't help but wonder if he even brushes his hair.

"Hello." You greet him with a small wave.

He frowns.

"What do you want?" Jasiel questions with a squint.

You give him a deadpan look almost immediately. "Well, damn, I just said hi, not holding you at gun point and asking for your first born."

Jasiel rolls his eyes and looks back onto his phone. He doesn't stop you when you move to sit on the bench. Though he did scoot away from you just a bit which made your brow twitch in irritation.

"What are you doing here anyway?" You prompt, folding your arms against your chest as you look at him.

"You first." He blandly replies and looks back at you with a deadpan expression similar to the one you just had.

Gods, you want to strangle him.

"I'm watching over someone." You curtly answer.

"And who would that be?"

"My Fa—little brother."

Jasiel quirks a brow, be it at the minor slip up or at the fact you even have a sibling it's hard to tell. Either way, he doesn't bother asking for clarification. "Well, where is your brother anyway?"

You gesture to the play ground infront of you both. "The brown haired boy with a white teddy."

You watch as Jasiel look over, hum, then look back at his phone. "I never saw you as an older sibling."

"And I never saw you as someone who would even be outside his holy temple."

Jasiel doesn't rebut you on that, instead just scoffs and returns back to looking whatever is on his phone.

A moment of silence passes between you both.

People pass by still, and you keep a careful eye as Emery play in the sandbox with a new friend he made with the brightest and most excited smile on his face. You can't help but smile at it too, chest warming at the sight of the little owl finally able to actually be a kid... and not the protector he said he's sworn to be to you.

"I came here to escape home." Your thoughts are interrupted by the sudden, yet dull intrusion. You turn your head to look at Jasiel, who has now leaned back against the bench, phone now abandoned in his hands, with an unreadable look in his eyes. His gaze is towards the playground, and yet somewhere else at the same time.

"I didn't feel like talking to my siblings," Jasiel continues with a minute frown forming, "so I just left before they could find me."

"Did you get into a fight with them?" You cautiously ask.

The town's golden boy shakes his head, brass bronze gaze lowering as his face contorts into a softer expression. Something more somber. A rare look on him. "No," he said, "I just didn't feel like being lectured about what I'm "destined" to do when I graduate. I'm expected to start working in the church next spring break. I don't know what position yet, but Asael thinks that being an IT member would do me good. I could make slideshow presentations, he said."

"That doesn't really sound too bad." You grimace a bit. "Besides the destined part though. The fuck's up with that?"

Jasiel shrugs and lazily turns his head towards you with a deadpan look. "I'm a Lèmieux, that's why. My family owns this church, and if I'm not gonna contribute to it in some way, think about the scandals my family will be put through."

He sarcastically makes a spooky "Ooo" sound and limply made some jazz hands. It stops immediately after, and he scowls as he looks away. "It's bullshit."

You hum in thought for a bit. "What if you leave Delphinium and move to the city, will that do you any good? You won't have to hear about the church anymore if you do." You suggest, and you watch as Jasiel's scowl softens to one of genuine contemplation. His brows furrow, as his eyes minutely dart around as if computing for something only he can see.

"True, but..." The scowl returns, though it's more somber than frustrated. Jasiel shakes his head. "No, it won't work."

Now it's your turn to furrow your brows. "Why not?"

"Reasons you wouldn't get." He puts one foot down onto the ground, as he stands, hands now stuffing themselves into the pockets of his parka.

"You could at least help me understand by telling me." You frown and stand too as your gaze bores into him. He deliberately avoids it by turning away.

"I'd rather not, and, unlike some people, I'd rather not get you involved in whatever family issue I should be handling." Jasiel looks at you one last time, his eyes hardened... and guilty. "For your own good, don't bother asking things you shouldn't be knowing."

And he leaves, riding his skateboard down the smooth cobblestone path. You watch him weave through people, becoming one and disappearing amongst the crowd. You frown a bit as you turn away, heading towards Emery as you hear him call your name.

What did Jasiel mean by that?

And most importantly, what things did he see?

[redphienix]

Thinking at length about how when I was a kid I treated games like playgrounds and how interesting I find that line of thinking since I haven't done it in literal decades.

Not to that extent at least.

When I was a kid the only game I ever beat was Pokemon, and that was a huge change of pace in and of itself for me. Before, and for a long time after, I exclusively treated games like playgrounds- like little rooms filled with toys.

There is no "winning" on a playground- you run around as fast as you can, climb on the equipment, dig in the sand, see how fast you can go from the swings to that tree and back- it's toys, mindless play.

That was games to me.

I turned on video games for the NES, Game boy, N64, and Playstation with the express goal of "Press buttons and run in a circle for a bit, okay I'm bored that's enough :)"

I collected maybe 7 stars TOTAL in super mario 64 and it is vital to include the fact that I had a 120 star save file from my cousin AND EXPLORING THOSE STAGES AND COLLECTING THINGS THERE IS COUNTED IN MY 7 ESTIMATE.

It took me like a full month to beat the intro timer through boss of FF7 because I had built up and acquired 0 game sense. Games are toys, you press buttons and hold directions, what do you mean this screen wants me to walk TOWARD the camera- that's never been done before- what do you mean this fight isn't mash x to finish? Game over? Well I'm loading the end-game save my cousin left on the memory card and running around there instead.

There are a lot of downsides to playing like this obviously, but there's something so 'freeing' about treating a game like a toy with no win or loss condition. Just doing stuff in it because it's fun.

There are games that flourish on this idea today, but to treat EVERY game that way? To boot up an epic RPG and just walk around until an encounter starts without a single goal in mind? To turn on platformer after platformer after platformer not with the intent of mastering their controls and conquering their levels- but just to see what jumping looks like in each one because ????

I want to put kid me under a microscope and ask him to play like 40 different games back to back

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

Shaken Comfort at a Playground

Summary - Part 54 in the Comfort series

Pairing - Dean Winchester x Reader, Reader x Sam (platonic), Reader x Bobby (father-figure), Andre (OG Character) x Reader (best friends), Garth x Bess, Sam x Eileen

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: I’m so sorry guys! I’m quite late today, but we still got there, eventually. I hope you enjoy, and as always: Thank you all so much for your continued support!

You and Dean sit on a park bench close to the playground as you encourage Destiny to play with the other kids. 

“What if I don’t fit in? I’m not normal. What if they can tell?” Destiny says as she starts to tear up and she grips your arm.

You pull her up onto your lap. “It’s okay, Sweetie. Just introduce yourself and say you’re new to town. Just be nice and follow their lead. You’re alright. Sure your diet is a little different, but in most other ways you’re a normal little girl.”

Dean stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come on, you ever tried a swing?”

She shakes her head as she looks at you as if asking for permission. “Go on. Have fun.” You smile as she takes Dean’s hand and lets him lead her to the swing set. You take your phone out to get a video as he lifts her up onto the seat and holds it steady as she gets comfortable. Her knuckles go white as she grips the chains tight. Dean stands behind her and pushes gently. 

“Alright, hold on tight and I want you to kick your legs out and back as you swing. It’s all about momentum,” he explains to her as he continues to push her gently. He gradually adds pressure to build momentum for her and propels her higher. She giggles as she goes higher. After a few swings, he takes a step back to let her swing on her own. 

You see the panic on her face when she swings backwards and doesn’t feel Dean’s hands connect with her back. “Dean! Dean?!”

“You’re doing it! Good work! Swing your legs out, and back. Out. And back. Good job!” Dean tells her as she continues to swing unassisted. 

You record for a few more seconds and then put your phone away to be more present. After a few minutes, a little girl around Destiny’s size walks up beside Dean and tugs on his shirt sheepishly. He kneels down to her level, still keeping an eye on Destiny, but giving the stranger some attention.

“Excuse me,” she says quietly.

“How can I help you?”

“Can you…please push me too?”

“Uh…” Dean nervously scratches his growing beard and looks around the park for other parents. “Where’s your parents?” He asks.

“They work out of town a lot and we travel often. It’s just me and my big sister, but we had a fight.”

Dean instantly pictures a young Sam in that same position and softens. “Sure, come on.” He stands up and grabs hold of the chains on the second swing and holds it steady while she climbs on. “Hey D, what are the rules?”

“Hold tight!” She calls out as she swings past. “And swing your legs out and back!” 

“Good girl!” He says to Destiny and then leans down to face the other child, “Think you can do that for me?” She nods enthusiastically. “Alright then, here we go!”

He pushes her gently and then slowly builds momentum. Both girls giggle as they swing in sync, with Dean’s help. Once they’re both happily swinging together he turns to you. “Okay, you girls have fun. I’m gonna go sit down for a minute but just call out if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay! Thanks, Dad…I mean, Dean.” Destiny’s smile drops and her legs stop swinging. Dean grabs the chains carefully and helps her slow down. “I’m sorry, Dean.” She starts to tear up.

He kneels down in front of her once she stops swinging. “Hey, it’s alright. I know I’m not your biological dad, but you can call me that if it makes you comfortable. And I know Y/N will feel the same. We’re raising you now.” She nods and he wipes her eyes. “You two play for a while,” he says as he glances back at the other little girl who has stopped swinging too. “We can talk about it more later over dinner.”

She nods, “Okay, Dean.”

He smiles at her and kisses the top of her head before standing up and walking back over to you. He sits down and takes your hand.

“What was that about?” You ask.

“She called me dad…and then got scared about how I’d react, I guess.”

“And? How did you react?”

“I told her she can call me that if it makes her comfortable. She’s our daughter in every way that matters. We’re not gonna give her up now.”

You rest your head on his shoulder and watch Destiny play in the play gym with the other little girl. “I told you you’d be a great dad. Who’s her friend?”

“I think her parents may be hunters…”

“What makes you think that?”

“She said they travel a lot and she and her sister are often left by themselves while her parents go out of town for work.”

“You think she knows? That she’ll notice D?” Despite you talking quietly, Destiny picks up parts of your conversation with her enhanced hearing and looks over at you concerned. “You hungry, Babe?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time to go.” Dean slaps his thighs and stands up. You both keep eye contact with your little girl as Dean puts on an act and calls out to her, despite knowing she can hear you. “Come on, D! We’re going now!” Dean squeezes your hand as you wait for her to run over to you. Dean scoops her up with his free arm and rests her on his hip as you walk to the Impala.

She hides her face in his neck. “Are they gonna kill me?”

Dean hushes her and shakes his head. “You’re safe with us. We’ll protect you. I’m just not sure if we should eat out in town now…”

“Yeah, let’s just pick up some take-out and go home. Sam’ll understand and so will Eileen, I’m sure,” you say. 

Dean tries to put Destiny down in the backseat but she tightens her grip. “I’m scared…”

He climbs in the back with her and lets her sit on his lap. He passes you the keys over the seat and you scoot into the driver’s seat and then turn around. Once all the doors are shut, Dean says, “As soon as I suspected she was the child of hunters I should’ve taken you home. I just…I would’ve loved to have met other kids like me…It seemed perfect. But you’re not me, and you’re not just our little girl…I’m sorry.”

You reach over and place your hand on Destiny’s shoulder. “We’ll keep you safe though. Hopefully, she doesn’t even know her parents are hunters, or maybe Dean’s wrong. There are plenty of reasons people move around for work. But just to be safe, let’s go home and we’ll look into it. I’ll call Bobby and see if he knows of any other hunters around Lebanon at the moment. You may not be exactly like us, but we love you like our own daughter and we’ll protect you like you are.”

She nods and snuggles into Dean’s chest. He tightens his grip to help her feel more secure.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Tag list: (Leave a like or comment on this post or let me know below if you want to be added to the tag list for this series)

@bitchwitch1981, @muhahaha303, @justrealizedimmascifygurl, @mcdowell-123, @leigh70, @marvelsmarauder, @losa12308, @tapedeck-hearts, @luvjaida, @peachtxa, @ambearsstuff, @shadow-of-a-cloud, @slut-for-buck, @iprobablyshipit91, @sassy-pelican, @fallenlilangel99, @heavenlyhopeful0, @nelachu2423, @ladysparkles78, @canyouimaginethatstory, @mrlonelycat, @roseblue373, @staley83

[banannabethchase]

Can't Do It On My Own - also on AO3

~

Danny and Wheeler are moving in together.

~

And here it is! I waffled a lot on whether or not a third installment would happen, but an idea struck me that would be a good ~finale and here we are. Title, as they all were from this series, from Hold Me Like a Grudge by Fall Out Boy.

~

Danny yawns, fidgeting as he tries to get comfortable against the window of the car. He’s been doing this for a few minutes now, a sure sign he’s waking up, and Wheeler decides he can be annoying now.

“Wake up,” Wheeler says, poking at Danny’s thigh.

“No,” Danny whines. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, well, that’s your decision for waking up later yesterday because the hotel was, what,” Wheeler searches the memory. “Oh, right. Too comfortable.”

“It was too comfortable,” Danny says. He snuggles further into the seat and Wheeler pokes him again. “We should have used it for more interesting reasons.”

Wheeler fights his smile. “I mean, we did. That’s why we had to wake up at, like, six this morning. We have to make up time.”

Danny pouts like hell as he shifts and glares at Wheeler. “You got meaner since you’ve been back on TV.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not driving your car if you’re asleep.” He pats Danny’s thigh. “Wake up and act like you love me.”

“I do love you,” Danny says. “But I’m tired and annoyed and my neck still hurts from MJF’s bullshit.”

Wheeler loses the wherewithal to argue. He lets Danny doze off and changes the playlist to something he likes. They’re driving into Orlando from Buffalo, moving the last few things that didn’t belong in the Pod to their new place about twenty minutes from where Wheeler had been living before. His little Orlando apartment, one bedroom and a cramped kitchen, had served him well in the past few years. But now he and Danny are, like, a serious thing. And he figured it was time to take the next step.

Danny starts snoring again, soft but present, and Wheeler reaches a hand over to rest it on Danny’s thigh. It’s comfortable. It’s natural. Wheeler’s pretty sure this is his dream for what his life would look like, but he’d never say it to Danny. Not yet, at least.

They’re about twenty minutes out when he squeezes Danny’s thigh and shakes gently.

“Danny,” he murmurs, navigating around somebody double parked in the middle of a major road. “Danny, wake up.”

There’s a weird little snuffling sound as Danny shifts.

“Come on, Danny.”

“No,” Danny mumbles. “Tired.”

“I know you’re tired,” Wheeler says, “but if you wake up, we can get coffee.”

Danny opens an eye and glances at Wheeler. “Why are you looking at me? Look at the road.”

“We’re at a stoplight.”

“Get me a macchiato. With chocolate.”

“You’ll be awake to order.”

“Says you.”

Danny is awake, it turns out, but he’s kind of bitchy about being awake, which is cuter than Wheeler wants to admit. He starts to brighten as he sips his coffee, sitting up straighter and looking around the area.

“This is cute,” he muses, in between sips. “I didn’t see the parks when we came here the first time.”

“We came from a different direction,” Wheeler says as they pass a playground with swings.

“Oh, shit, that slide is cool!” Danny lights up as he turns to Wheeler at the stop sign. “Are we close enough we could bring our kids here one day?”

Wheeler stares. And stares. And stares, long enough that a car pulls up behind them and beeps.

“You okay?” Danny asks.

Wheeler nods as he accelerates. “I – just – I kind of had this weird vision of you and I with, like, two kids going to that park and teaching them how to do the swings, is all.” He feels his cheeks heat up, and is worried until Danny grabs his hands.

“I was thinking three,” Danny says quietly, “but yeah. Yeah, me too.”

~

The giant box makes a weird thud as it drops to the floor of their new kitchen. Their kitchen.

“This is weird,” Danny says. He’s got a box propped up on shoulder and looks unfairly good with the way his muscles are bulging. “Why’s the countertop so small? And the sink is tiny.”

“We just bought this place, and you’re complaining?” Wheeler leans against the counter. “You are all kinds of annoying.

Danny drops the box on the ground and hops up on the counter. “I’m just saying.” He automatically parts his knees when Wheeler settles himself between them. He rests his hands on Danny’s thighs.

“What are you saying?” Wheeler asks. He pretends the tiny little voice telling him Danny’s going to back out hasn’t suddenly gotten much louder.

Danny’s gaze flickers to the side. “I don’t want you to change your mind on this place.”

Wheeler stares at him. “What?”

Danny groans and drops his head back, narrowly missing clocking himself on the cabinet. “I don’t know, man, this is a big step and you just fucked up your head, okay? I don’t want you to wake up one day and your stupid brain is, like, turbo healed and you regret this decision.” He takes a breath like he’s steadying himself. “This is a really big step. But, like, the first big step in a long list of big steps we could take.”

“You – you’re worried about the counters because you think I’m worried about the counters?” Wheeler’s brain is spinning. “We could, I don’t know, fucking tear this place down and remake it with whatever counters we want.”

Finally, Danny meets his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Stop acting like I’m not as in this as you are,” Wheeler demands. He steps in closer, hands on Danny’s waist. “I want this because I want you, not for any other reason.”

Danny licks his lips, hesitant, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop or for Wheeler to give some sort of condition. Wheeler hates the way it looks on him – hesitant, worried, insecure. It’s the Danny he’s grown out of, the one whose greatest talent was self-sabotage. Wheeler loved both versions, but the newest one needs to stick.

Danny leans in, angle awkward as he presses his forehead against Wheeler’s. It’s funny, Wheeler thinks. The first dozen or so times they did this it was in the ring, hellbent on killing each other. Now it’s in their kitchen, arms around each other. Shit’s weird. “It’s, I don’t know, scary or whatever,” Danny murmurs.

“It’s allowed to be scary,” Wheeler says, “big things are scary. But you’re bigger than the worries, okay? We’re bigger than any worry you could come up with.”

Danny gets those formerly lanky limbs and essentially curls around Wheeler like an octopus. “Love you,” he mumbles into Wheeler’s hair.

“I love you, too,” Wheeler says. He holds Danny as close as he can, for as long as he can.

“Um,” he mumbles. “This is awesome and I love you all wrapped around me like this, but Magic, Claudio, and Mox should be here soon to help us move stuff in, and I don’t think we’d ever live this down.”

Danny laughs and pulls back. “We could always fuck in the kitchen, let them walk in on us.”

“I need you to know how terrifying the idea of your surrogate dad walking in on us fucking is to me,” Wheeler says. “Now get on the floor. I hate when you’re taller than me.”

“I’m always taller than you.”

“We are the exact same height.”

“Are not!” Danny jumps down. “See? I’m taller!”

“You are not!” He grabs Danny’s waist and holds him still. “Stop going up on your toes. That’s cheating.”

“I’m not,” Danny says, definitely struggling against Wheeler’s grip. And then there’s a little blush across his cheeks.

“Oh, I get it,” Wheeler says. He presses Danny against the counter. “You want to risk getting caught, so you’re riling me up so I fuck you, huh?”

“No,” Danny says, and the little smile that appears in the corners of his eyes betray his lie. “Okay, fine, not on purpose.”

“Get on the counter,” Wheeler growls, and Danny hops up without complaint. Wheeler leans in and kisses him. It’s always so good, kissing Danny. He always wants it as much as Wheeler does, always meets him with the same intensity that they get to when they meet in the ring.

Wheeler wants this forever.

Danny whimpers against his mouth, yanking Wheeler in with his legs like he’s desperate to meld together.

“If we, Danny, oh my god,” Wheeler laughs. “Breathe. Everybody will be here, like, any minute.”

“Don’t care,” Danny mumbles, sucking and biting at Wheeler’s neck in a way that will prove incredibly distracting before long. “Let ‘em watch. I want you.”

“Okay, well, when you say it like that.” Wheeler checks his phone. They don’t have a lot of time – not the time Wheeler likes to take with Danny, when it counts – but he figures a few blowjobs is a good first hurrah. “Get back up on the counter. I’m gonna blow you.”

Danny sighs.

“Is that disappointing or something?!”

“I – look, maybe I was hoping you’d fuck me against the fridge or something,” Danny says, and he has the faintest hint of a grin on his lips.

“Later,” Wheeler says, patting his thighs. “We don’t have time for me to fuck you the right way with them coming.”

Danny snickers and Wheeler ignores it. He’s already hard when he gets his sweats down his pants, and Wheeler doesn’t waste a second. He dives in, swirling his tongue around the head of Danny’s cock before ducking down and taking all of him down his throat.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Danny says. His hands fly to Wheeler’s hair.

Wheeler flips him off as he bobs, getting his other hand involved. Something buzzes in his pocket. He pulls off of Danny’s dick and strokes, thumb rubbing over the slit of Danny’s cock as Danny fucks up into his grip.

“Why’d you stop?” Danny asks. He’s got his hands braced on the counter to help him get leverage, and it’s giving Wheeler great ideas of what they can do in this kitchen when they have a little more time.

Wheeler grabs his phone and checks the message, not slowing his other hand or loosening the grip.

“We are having sex and you’re on your phone?!”

“Mox and Claudio will be here in fifteen. Mox argued with the GPS and went the wrong way,” Wheeler says, sliding his phone back into his jeans. “Or do you want to complain so I make it drag out and you don’t even get to come.”

Danny’s eyes widen. “I’ll shut up,” he says quietly.

Wheeler grins, and he thinks this is him earning being smug. “That’s what I thought.” He ducks back down, keeping grip and suction the way Danny likes it. Danny is squirming and whining, and Wheeler can sense more than see that he’s using the opportunity to do something akin to pushups on the counter.

He pulls away. “Are you working out?!”

“Gotta keep my pump going,” Danny says, grinning down.

“We are hauling loads of –”

“Yeah we are.”

Wheeler sighs and shakes his head. “Jesus Christ, Danny. Allow yourself to relax. You’re allowed to relax and, like. Enjoy it. Without doing anything else. Like fucking bits.”

Danny sighs. “I guess,” and it’s as dramatic as ever with him.

Wheeler goes slower this time, licking and focusing more than being intense about it. Intense seems silly now. They have a little time.

He keeps this pace until Danny’s whimpering and squirming worse. “Wheeler,” he whines. “Okay, this isn’t fair. Can – please?”

“Please what?” Wheeler asks, standing and stroking Danny with his hand. “What do you want Danny?”

Danny sighs. “I want to come,” he almost whispers. “I – I want you to make me – in our kitchen.”

“Yeah?” Wheeler’s heart fills with something so strong and unnameable he thinks it has to exceed love at this point. “We’re going to make every room in this house messy while we live here.”

Danny laughs as he comes, hips snapping up into the circle of Wheeler’s fist, and it’s so sweet and so good it takes Wheeler a second to realize he doesn’t have a goddamned clue where paper towels are.

“Shit,” Danny mutters.

“Don’t worry,” Wheeler says. He pulls his shirt off over his head and uses it to mop up the mess.

“I’m much more tidy than you are,” Danny says. “So. Up on the counter. I’ll remind you how exactly to do a blow job. Since you seem to have forgotten how to do it well.”

“I just gave you a great blow job!”

Danny grins up at Wheeler. “You gave a great hand job,” he corrects. “This is a great blow job.” He grabs at the waistband of Wheeler’s pants and Wheeler adjusts, lifting himself up on the counter the way Danny had before. He rolls his eyes. “Who’s working out now?”

“I – you had to take off my pants!”

“You didn’t have to be so showy about it.”

“I quite literally did or I wouldn’t be able to take my pants off.”

“Shut up so I can suck your dick.”

“You like it when I talk to you when you suck my dick.”

Danny groans. “You’re the worst. I love you.” And he leans down to take Wheeler’s cock into his mouth.

He really is good at this, Wheeler muses. Tongue swirling at the head of Wheeler’s cock on the upstroke, throat opening around him. He reaches down and brushes a thumb along Danny’s cheekbone, deciding that this, of all the things today, is the moment he wants to memorize. Maybe later tonight they can really go at it in their newly made bed. Maybe this morning was also perfect as they woke up in the hotel and got ready to go before any light had started to peek over the horizon. But this – this is a great beginning. A good start.

And, from what Wheeler can say personally, he feels great, too.

“Jesus, you’re stupidly good at this, baby,” he murmurs. “I love that mouth of yours.” He grins down at Danny, who is looking up at him. “Even when you’re being a bitch for Daddy.”

Danny groans and pulls off and glares at Wheeler. “It doesn’t work when you call yourself Daddy and I’ve already come,” he says, frowning. “If my head isn’t full of horny stupidity, it sounds ridiculous.”

“Maybe it gets me off,” Wheeler says. Danny’s got just enough hair for him to slide his hand into it, not tugging but also keeping a firm grip.

“I get you off,” Danny says, and it’s a bit petulant for somebody who just got a blow job. “It’s about me.”

Wheeler laughs, but it’s cut off fast when Danny, almost annoyed, dives back down onto Wheeler’s cock and goes to town. He was close enough before, but Danny seems to have dived in with an unseen fervor and his orgasm races toward him before he knows it.

“Danny,” he pants, hips twitching. He grips at the edge of the counter, determined not to slip right off. “Danny, I –”

With the way Danny looks up at him, mouth wrapped around Wheeler’s cock and eyes full of determination, Wheeler can’t hold back. He moans, Danny’s name falling from his lips, and it strikes him that this is the first of many moments like this in their new home.

He pants, half sliding down the counter. Danny presses himself in between Wheeler’s legs to keep him pinned to the counter. He leans in, and Wheeler kisses him, soft and sweet.

“See?” Danny murmurs, pulling back to press his face into Wheeler’s neck. “That’s how you avoid the mess.”

Wheeler laughs and pets Danny’s hair, glancing around the kitchen. The boxes behind them pile high and there is a lot of work to be done. But they get to do it together.

“This is great,” Danny says, “but I kind of don’t want our friends to show up and immediately know what we’ve been doing.”

Wheeler sighs and presses a kiss to the top of Danny’s forehead. “You have a point there.”

They redress to the best of their abilities, Wheeler’s shirt in a pile on the floor, and he hopes he can get away with saying he got too hot moving boxes.

“I’ll take mine off, too,” Danny says, chucking it so it lands on the awful, gaudy light fixture they are absolutely taking down once they get settled. “Less suspicious.”

“Yes,” Wheeler deadpans, “both of us being half naked is somehow less suspicious.”

They’re hauling in the last few boxes from the back of the car, avoiding the monster that will be dealing with Danny’s stuff from the trailer, when the door bangs open. Wheeler only jumps a little as he sets the box of Danny’s photo albums into the office.

He walks into the front hall to see Mox with an absolutely shit eating grin on his face, staring at Danny.

“Oh, I know what you two did,” Mox singsongs, leaning against the door. Claudio grabs him around the waist with his free hand and all but throws him out of the way.

“What?” Danny asks. Wheeler looks at him. No hint, other than messy hair, but they’ve been in a car or moving all day. Messy hair isn’t that weird.

Mox nods at Wheeler. “You got jizz on your shirt.”

“I do not!” Wheeler says, before he can stop himself. Before he remembers he’s not even wearing a shirt anymore.

“Hah!” Mox says, literally pointing and laughing at Wheeler. “You don’t, but I can tell by the way you’re checking it was a possibility.” He winks at Danny. “Getting that just moved in dick, I see. Good call.”

“Not seriously,” Danny grumbles. He takes the box from Claudio and carries it to the living room. “Somebody,” he yells over his shoulder as he sets the box on the dining room table, “decided that he didn’t want to be walked in on and we could only do blow jobs.”

“Only blow jobs?” Claudio asks, hands on his hips. “Not to sound old or anything, but I find a good blow job can be better than anything else.” He looks over at Mox, beaming, and Wheeler can’t decide if he thinks it’s cute or if it makes him want to throw up.

“Yeah, yeah, we all know you’re a big sap.” Mox kicks at Claudio’s shins. “Danny’s right, though. I’d rather get railed than a blow job. Just a preference.”

“He gets it!” Danny says, throwing his hands in the air.

“Can – can we finish bringing the boxes in?” Wheeler pleads. “None of us are going to have a place to stay tonight if we don’t get the mattresses and bed stuff inside.”

“We could get a hotel,” Mox says. “And you could stay here and pout like a little bitch.”

“I am not pouting!” Wheeler shouts. “God, I hate all of you.” He laughs, shaking his head, as he walks out to the car and grabs the box labeled Bed Shit. Danny yelled at him for that one, but he thought it was funny.

They all crash before ten, mattresses haphazardly thrown onto the floors of the bedrooms, and Danny yanks Wheeler in by the waist, burying his face into Wheeler’s neck.

“Love you,” he mumbles. He smells like Wheeler’s shampoo and soap, the only stuff they could dig out of the boxes easily. He smells like home.

Wheeler presses a kiss to Danny’s hand. “Love you too, Danny,” he mumbles, “I love you, too.”

~

Mini Playlist: Hold Me Like a Grudge - Fall Out Boy Glory Days - Betty Who You Found Me - Kelly Clarkson Heaven Is a Place on Earth - Belinda Carlisle

Thank you for joining me in this group of stories about two of my favorite dorks! I hope you have enjoyed alongside me :)

[ruruumin]

1 — CHILDHOOD MEMORIES.

₊˚ ᗢ synopsis; getting over breakups is difficult. after your partner leaves you, you find comfort in your friends. when you least expected it, your childhood friend kazuha pulls you from the darkness.

⤷genres; modern college au, romance, and angst with comfort.

⤷masterlist; here.

A blond boy stares out at the playground with a pout. Still dressed in his childish formal clothes which consisted of a neat dress shirt and ocean-blue shorts, he watches in envy as the other children play tag. Had his parents not gone to a business meeting, he could have worn his bright red sneakers. Instead, he’s wearing uncomfortable shoes that scratch the back of his ankles. He wishes he can take them off and throw them into the nearest pond but he knows better than that. 

So he sits alone on the swings, unable to push himself forward and back. His legs were too short to touch the ground. He puffs out his cheeks in annoyance. He’s upset that he isn’t as tall as his other friend Tomo, who has already grown to the height where he can ride Goofy’s Flight School alone at Disneyland. Granted, the boy might have been older by two years yet that doesn’t stop him from feeling jealous. The blond can only hope that by the end of the week, he can grow a few more inches that will let him ride alone. 

“Don’t you know you need two people for a swingset?” A voice called out. They were high-pitched and squeaky. For a moment, he contemplated ignoring them. It might have just been some mouse talking from his deepest imagination. “Why are you here alone? Where are your friends?” 

He looks up to see you. A child not much older or taller. You had your hands on your hips, an expression of curiosity and disapproval painted across your face. He notes the way your clothes are simple. Shorts and what looks to be a comfy t-shirt with Snoopy blowing a heart-shaped bubble at the front. His so-called royal bloodline might have scoffed at what you were wearing today. But who cares about his bloodline? He certainly doesn’t. So he sulks when he stares at your white sneakers adorning your feet. How he would kill just to wear his regular shoes. 

“I just moved here. My mom and dad are talking to some strangers,” he answers. He wishes they could be here with him right now. They could have been the ones pushing him on the swings. Could have given him better shoes to wear so he could play with the other kids. Rather, one pipsqueak showed up and thought of themselves as clever.

“Oh, so you have no friends?” 

Did your parents ever teach you manners? He huffs to himself. What a rude comment. Of course, he has friends! He has Tomo! The boy who lives half a block away from him. The one that is somehow too busy fighting other kids with wooden toy swords. The weird one that always wears a purple scarf no matter how hot the summer days are. 

“No, I have friends.” The boy snaps, “He’s just not here today.” 

“Still alone?” 

“No!” 

You laugh, clutching onto your stomach as if you’ve heard the funniest thing in the world. He only grits his teeth and rolls his eyes at you. Sure, he was alone. However, he would rather drink pool water than admit that he was out here by himself. He wasn’t alone! You were alone! You and your stupid Snoopy t-shirt and cool white sneakers, you don’t even have anyone next to you! Heck, he hasn’t even seen you around this part of town! If anything, you’re the lonely one!

“What is your name?” You ask, tilting your head to the side as you smile. This time, he notices how genuine it feels. Your lips don’t curve too high like older adults. They aren’t too low either to signify forcefulness. It seemed rather natural, to say the least. 

“Kaedehara Kazuha, but you can just call me Kazuha.” You drop your arms to the side and reach out to him, gesturing a handshake. He eyes it for a moment, seeing small bits of dirt cake the edges of your fingers. With another roll of his eyes, he decides to ignore it. 

As the two of you shake hands, you giggle. “That’s too long of a name.” 

Was his name that long for you? Sure, it might have been a mouthful for Tomo to pronounce but at least he got it right after the first sixteen tries. His father always told him that his name was sacred and that it was something he should feel proud of. Though, could he feel proud when some of his classmates can’t even pronounce it? They always mess up the last few syllables or end up just saying ‘hey you.’ 

He resists the urge to sigh. Sometimes he wishes he had an easier name. Maybe something simpler.

“Are you too lazy to say my name properly?”

Truthfully speaking, it wasn’t that hard to pronounce. You just wanted to mess with him because it seemed fun to toy with what might just be a rich kid on the block. You’ve had harder names to pronounce, like that boy Kunikuzushi, or his annoying sidekick Childe, otherwise known as Tartaglia or even Ajax. 

Kaedehara Kazuha didn’t seem too different. You point at him with a cheeky look, dismissing his look of displeasure, “I’ll just call you Kazu. It’s funny.”

“How is that funny?” 

“It’s like that instrument. The one that makes a honking noise.”

“A…kazoo?” He tries to stifle a laugh. Really? Did you want to name him after some stupid instrument that made the most obnoxious of noises? You were truly an interesting character.

“Yeah! Whatever that is!” 

But he liked it. It was simple. Easy to remember and say.