#she manages the floor while her mom manages the kitchen

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

stay for a fortnight

a/n: as promised, here is part three of the bodyguard!bucky story ৎ୭

summary: “yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, staying for two weeks at a chateau in the south of france, forced proximity, bucky is a shameless hoe and we love him for it, kissing, love confession, shower sex, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, gaping, handjob, fingering, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 3870

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“I’m sorry, darling. I tried to get out of it, I really did, even for just one day, but I can’t join you at the chateau this time.” 

“It’s alright, mom,” you exhaled, “I understand.”

Soothingly rubbing her palm down the length of your arm, she suggested, “well, since it won’t be as crowded down there, why don’t you stay a little longer? Maybe a proper break might cheer you up. Maybe one extra week?”

“Actually, two weeks of alone time is just what I need right now,” a faint smile managed to emerge on your lips, “thank you.”

“Great! You go and pack your things, I’ll let Barnes know to do the same,” she announced, and squashed the brief relief you felt just as soon as it had washed over you. 

It felt like ages that Bucky made you sit and wait in the car while he went around the estate to do his initial sweep, making sure it was safe and secure before you got to enter. 

The tenseness that still floated ethereally in the air between you didn’t fade away when he finally came back to crack open the door for you to exit the vehicle. 

“So,” you exhaled once the two of you had crossed the threshold of the chateau, “my room is the one upstairs and at the end of the hallway, yours is wherever the fuck you want, there are like a million bedrooms in this place.”

Your footsteps echoed against the elegantly tiled floors as you twisted to check that he even heard you. He had, seeing as his gaze was still ever glued upon you, though he didn’t offer you a reply. 

Shifting the large bag that hung from your shoulder, the luggage that you stubbornly hadn’t let him carry, you paused just before your stride began to ascend the grand staircase in the middle of the foyer.

“Also, I think we should come up with some ground rules.” 

Your bodyguard’s dark eyebrows then crinkled as he half scoffed, “ground rules?”

“Yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.”

Exhaling slowly, he simply stated, “whatever you say.”

Before you then began to drift up the wide steps, you cast a glance over your shoulder and said, “meet me in the kitchen in ten.”

“Alright,” you breathed, leaning against the cold marble of the kitchen island as you stared down at the small list you’d scribbled down on a stray post-it you had found in the bottom of your bag, slightly crumbled and with a doodle on the other side, “first rule I’d like to instate is an obvious one, but still needs to be set and stone in order for us to be here together. We can’t sleep together.”

When you heard a low sigh seep from Bucky’s lips, your eyes snapped up to glare at him. 

“Hey! Take this fucking seriously, okay?”

“I am,” he assured you, though his tone indicated the complete opposite of his words. 

“So, rule number two is in prolonging of the first one, which is that we can’t do anything that’ll make us want to sleep with each other,” you cast your glance back down to your messy handwriting, “two A, no swimming in the pool, two B, no nudity, two C, definitely no drinking, and two D, no staring at me,” your eyes flickered back up to catch his blue ones, “especially not like that,” you swiftly gestured to the way he gazed at you.

“Like what?” he didn’t change the manner he looked at you. 

“Like you’ve seen me naked!” 

Your shriek unfortunately only won you the glimpse of a smug smirk upon Bucky’s lips, one you swiftly tried to ignore. 

“Okay,” you blinked in an effort to redirect your attention back to the task at hand and not the butterflies that now soared in your stomach and made you slightly dizzy, “rule number three is technically also under the subsection of number two, but we can’t eat our meals together. No candle-lit dinners, not even a snack.”

Budding in, the man on the other side of the kitchen counter then said, “can I say something?”

With a soft sigh, you mustered the courage to look up at him, “shoot.”

“Do you wanna decide what I wear as well while you're at it? Maybe also when I’m allowed to breathe?”

His jest didn’t as much as conjure a twitch at the corners of your lips as your gaze simply narrowed in his direction, “are you mocking me?”

Boldly leaning his forearms down against the tabletop, he stared back at you, “so what if I am?” though when you assumed he was kidding and you let out a groan, you heard him go on, “all I’m saying is that maybe we don’t set a list of hard rules just to avoid each other. We seem to do just fine when we toss them all out the window.”

“I'm sorry, wait, what?” you blinked. 

“We’ve got two weeks here, so why don’t we make them count?” he shrugged. 

Mouth agape, you dumbfoundedly stared back at him, “you’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” calmly, his head tilted slightly as he held your stunned gaze, “just think about it.”

The sun only barely managed to set before you felt yourself crack and give in to your bodyguard’s offer. 

Storming into his room, his dark brows only got the chance to rise slightly in astonishment before you nearly tackled him to the ground, throwing your arms around his bulky frame and crashing your lips against his before any of you could say even a single word. 

You didn’t try to hide the raw emotions that came pouring out, causing your efforts to be rough and desperate, though it didn’t take long before Bucky’s touch mirrored the feral nature of your own, leaving you dizzy as you eventually withdrew from the starved kiss, clutching onto his shirt for support as you breathlessly ordered. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Keeping your eyes closed, you tilted your head back to let the drizzle of water rinse out the shampoo from your locks. 

The door to the bathroom was wide open, so when you twisted your form to face the showerhead, you didn’t notice as your faithful protector stopped in his slow tracks right on the other side of the threshold. His eyes trailed down your glistening spine till the sight of you caused him to crumble completely and take advantage of the gift that had just fallen into his lap.  

A low purr vibrated within your chest as the warm water rained down upon you, though suddenly, it wasn’t just the hot shower embracing your form, as a pair of burly arms snaked their way around you. Leaning back into his bulky frame, you caught sight of a crumbled bundle of his clothes tossed on the other side of the fogged-up shower door. A blissful hum crackled within you like a roiling fire as you felt his lips begin to plant soft pecks along the line of your shoulders. 

Though as his touch began to bloom and wander boldly down your frame, a gentle hiss tore through your lazy smile as his fingers came into contact and brushed over your core. 

Nipping at your neck, he murmured, “oh, do you want me to stop?” not removing his metal hand, though halted the pattern he had begun to draw over your petals. 

He already knew full well just how sore and swollen you still were. It would have been impossible not to be after the vigorous activities you’d kept the past week busy with.  

Digging your digits into his forearms to keep you in his embrace, you shot back hazily over your shoulder, “don’t you dare,” before a whimper rippled out of you as Bucky once again rolled your puffy pearl beneath his steely touch. 

“How is it that we’ve already done this for a whole week, yet it only feels like a day?” his voice tickled the shell of your ear as you leaned more of your weight back into him. 

“Really? Because I don’t believe you’d be able to fuck me in a day as many times as you have this past week,” you jested through a whimper, “even for a guy with your stamina.” 

“It’s a good thing it’s just the two of us here… imagine if we hadn’t been alone, if it hadn’t been me walking by and seeing you seduce me like the wicked temptress that you are?”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything of the sort,” you chuckled airily. 

“Really?” he teased just as his touch did, “leaving the door open, that wasn’t on purpose?” 

“No, I swear,” you then tilted your head and admitted, “at least not this time…”

“You mean the time back a month ago when didn’t close the door while taking a bath,” he murmured casually, “then called out to me, asking if I could fetch you a towel, and I had to pretend not to hear you?”

Spinning around at once, your eyebrows were nearly at your hairline as you blinked, “you knew?” 

“Baby, you never had to play that hard just to torture me,” he smiled down at you, “that move was downright cruel,” before he reached for the knob and switched off the water.

A squeal bubbled out of you as Bucky then suddenly plucked you up into his arms, wasting no time before he stepped out of the shower, only pausing for a beat in the comparatively more spacious area, though only in order to manhandle you further and toss you over his shoulder before his feet began to shift once more, leaving wet prints in their wake on the cool tile as he strode towards the exit. 

Strung over his shoulder as if you were a wet piece of laundry and he was the line, you giggled, “wait!” and just managed to catch one of the fluffy towels hanging on the hook he passed. Blinking down at the floor as he crossed the threshold, you watched as droplets of water dribbled down from you both and left a trail on the herringbone flooring, “you’re dripping, you’re gonna get the whole house wet!”

Landing his wide palm in a wet smack across your ass, he chuckled, “I thought that was my line, sweetheart,” teasing about the manner your pussy drooled for him, already leaking down your thighs at this point. 

Soon, the long hallway disappeared from your periphery as Bucky entered the nearest of the many bedrooms, though you barely had time to register your new surroundings before the world fell out from under you and he plopped you down on the bed in the middle of the room. 

Standing his ground and looming above the giggle that was your horizontal form, he stole the towel from your grasp before dragging the terrycloth across your skin. As he dried off the droplets of water that clung to your body, a handful of pecks adorned your flesh as well, often shadowing the cloth. 

Gazing up at him with smile-crinkled eyes, you stretched your feet up in the air, against his torso, and rested them against his wide shoulders as he briefly paused to dry himself off as well. But as he returned to sweep the towel across the last remaining spot upon your body that still glistened from the shower, the peck he pressed to the valley between your boobs was swiftly halted as your grasp found his jaw and you guided his face up towards your own. 

As you brought his lips to your own, you swiftly felt the mattress dent and ripple as he crawled up to hover above you. 

“Ahh, fuck…” he then groaned against your lips as your hand snaked down between your bodies and began to stroke his throbbing girth. 

Tossing the towel to the side, a gasp soon tumbled out past your lips as Bucky’s palms found your tits in a gentle squeeze. Your pebbly nipples stood up to the challenge as he swept a knuckle teasingly across one of them before capturing it in a pinch and tugging slightly to summon a sinful sound deep within your body. 

As your fist slowly twisted up and down his hard length, his close proximity caused your own knuckles to brush across your clit at every heated pass. Almost unconsciously, you tilted your hips slightly and nudged the bulbous tip of him through your glistening petals, the pleasure of which caused your eyes to roll in your skull. 

But just before he could take the initiative and catch your fleeting invitation to let him inside, you caught him off guard and suddenly rolled him onto his back with your frame plastered atop of him. 

Propping yourself up slightly, you grasped his fat girth before slowly sinking down upon it, “o-oh my god,” couldn’t help but breathlessly tumble out of your lungs as a flat palm came down to brace on his broad chest and your thighs gently quivered at the sudden stretch of him. It was a few times that you had to pause on your slow journey down just in order to catch your breath, as his intimidating size caused you to question yet again how you’d ever been able to take it before. 

“Atta girl,” his grip dug into your hips when you slowly began to move, “just like that…” though you still couldn’t persuade your pelvis to sink all the way down to meet his own. 

As you found a gentle roll, one of Bucky’s palms scooped up past your waist and caught one of your tits. Your back arched slightly as he played with your boobs, his hand travelling back and forth as you rode him, though a shuttering moan rippled through your body as he landed a gentle tap down upon one of them, a shiver swiftly trickling down your spine at the spark.

But just as you thought the bodyguard beneath you was blissfully enjoying the show and letting you do all the work yourself, his hips then abruptly offered you a greedy buck.  

“Bucky!” you nearly screamed as he buried the last few inches that you had so fiercely struggled to conquer on your own, “that’s–, I–, holy fuck!” 

You hadn’t been able to take all of him on your own, so he just gave you the little nudge that you needed, even if that nudge thoroughly punched all of the oxygen out of your lungs, he still made you take every staggering inch.

“Come on, don’t stop now,” a chuckle escaped him at your reaction before his palm came down upon your ass to get you back to work, “make yourself cum on this cock.” 

Shakily, you tried to pick up your rhythm once more, dropping your hips to meet his, though he couldn’t remain still for long before he began to fuck up into your warmth. Heavy taps echoed throughout the room as his balls slapped against your slick skin at his efforts. As he met your movements halfway and drove his cock much deeper than you could muster on your own, your left hand drifted down to strum your buzzing clit. 

Already dangerously close to the edge, your hazy gaze flickered down to watch not only how your pussy magically swallowed his big dick, but your eyes also caught sight of the dull bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, making your brain feel even more fuzzy than before. As your glance flickered back to try and catch his, you found his own stare to still be fiercely locked on the same spot where yours had just strayed from, watching intently at just how deep he went, nearly rearranging your guts just to mould you perfectly to fit his shape. 

When you finally reached your peak, your cunt nearly choked his cock as your silky walls clambered down on him, a small accompaniment of sinful gush squirted around him and drizzled to soak the sheets below. 

While you were still foggy with your eyes barely open, Bucky rolled you both over, his dick still throbbing deep within you. Welcoming the softness of the bed beneath you with a gentle sigh, he then captured your lips in a kiss and swallowed the whimpers that promptly bubbled up as he began to fuck you once more, offering you long, deep strokes that sank you so far into the mattress that you began to wonder if you might rock through it completely.  

“O-oh, so fucking d-deep,” you blubbered. A rhythmic cry forced its way out of your lungs each and every time the tip of him kissed your cervix, nearly bullying the deepest parts of you in a manner that made you feel like the wobbliest of jellies. 

“You scared I’m gonna break you, baby?” his soft lips ghosted against your cheekbone. 

“I–, maybe,” you admitted, blinking up at the way his frame eclipsed your vision, “but it feels so good, I don’t care if you do,” though your confession ended up not only exclusively being about the purely physical entanglement you currently found yourselves in. 

A deep growl rumbled in his chest as his hands scooped down beneath your bottom, before he let himself manhandle you, repeatedly dragging your hips up to grant him a better angle for him to fuck into. A bit of drool trickled out the corner of your mouth and found the pillow below your head when his cock soon throbbed within you, pumping you full of his hot load. 

When he pulled back out of your warmth, your pussy didn’t get to stay empty for long as his cool metal fingers swiftly took his dick’s place. Plugging you full, his frame shifted slightly to grant him a good view of the leaky mess he’d made of you. As he pushed his cum deeper inside of you, scooping it back in as his fingers forced it out, he increasingly added more and more digits till the amount matched the girth that had just split you apart, before he withdrew them all at once and grinned proudly at the way he made your hole gape slightly for him, before winking back to a closed as if he’d never even tickled you before. 

It didn’t take long with all of his molten motions before your pussy wept for him once more, a display he only drew out as his fingers stayed hooked inside of you while his other palm came down to offer your puffy pearl a few taps. 

A hazy giggle was bubbling out of your shaky frame as his attentive touch finally faded and his kisses fluttered back up your body till your arms wrapped around him and drew him in close. 

As you layed there in the plush bed and stared up at the ceiling, you didn’t know yet that the man sprawled out beside you was awake as well. 

You just couldn’t find rest no matter how hard you tried, for how could you as tonight was your last night in the chateau. 

Carefully, you slipped out from under the covers, grabbed your long robe from the armchair it was draped over, and tip-toed towards the wide French doors that lead out onto a balcony. Pushing the doors open, a mild gust of wind rustled the robe as you fastened the tie around your waist and crossed over the threshold. 

Though you knew that you didn’t have any other choice, the thought of returning home in the morning still broke your heart. The last thing you wanted to do was burst that dreamlike bubble that you and your bodyguard had built together and go back to a world completely desaturated of colour. 

Not only had you made the grave mistake of repeating history, but putting it under such an intense microscope didn’t help matters either, as well as your feelings, those having become terrifyingly clear over the past two weeks. 

“Hey,” you suddenly heard the doors behind you creak and you tore your hazy gaze away from the dark gardens below to spot Bucky gently leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hi,” you breathed, keeping a flat palm on the ivy-covered stone railing as you twisted your frame slightly to glance at him, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was already awake,” he shrugged slightly before joining you outside in the pale moonlight, “you okay?”

“Yeah…” you sighed, casting your gaze back upon the woods blooming in the distance. 

“…well, that didn’t sound very convincing,” he chuckled gently as he settled in beside you, leaning both his forearms against the half-wall, “do you wanna talk about it?”

Sucking in a breath, your eyes flickered over to catch his own, “I just–…” you hesitantly began before admitting, “I don’t wanna go back to Paris…” 

“Why not?” though a crinkle found his brow, his expression still softened, “is there something going on with you and your mother?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you shook your head, “I just don’t wanna go home yet…” staring at him a moment longer, you then heard yourself confess, “…I–… I don’t want this to end yet…”

Watching closely as his lungs expanded with oxygen, for the first time you witnessed the gruff man look utterly and completely stunned, simply staring down at you with bated breath. 

Parting your lips once more, you nearly whispered, “…I don’t wanna go back to pretending that I’m not in love with you…” 

Bucky didn’t say a word, only continued to stare as he tried to comprehend the truth you’d just professed.

“I love you,” you gathered up the nerve to spit out, “I love you now… I loved you this morning… I loved you after you’d probably only worked at the embassy for a few weeks…” your vision became blurred as tears began to form in your eyes and you continued to babble, “and I don’t think those feelings are planning on changing anytime soon, so it only seemed fair for you to be aware of that for when I ask you in two seconds if you wanna keep this thing between us going, because I do, though probably for different reasons than you–, not that I don’t enjoy that part, you are an incredible lay, I just didn’t think it would be fair for you to be unaware of the feelings I've developed for you, because I don’t know how to ignore them anymore, and–, oh my god, please just say something, I feel like I arrived naked at school or something–”

But before you could ramble any further, Bucky seized your face and fiercely pressed his lips to your own. A shiver ran down your spine and nearly caused your knees to buckle as he kissed you, and when he withdrew, slowly pulling back, he found your stary gaze and uttered, “…I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” he then sucked in a breath before confessing, “because I–… Y/n, I love you too…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[sapphicrow]

Y’all, hear me out:

Chef Alcina with a black uniform, her crest embroidered in golden thread on the breast pocket just to be extra. Chef Alcina with the most impressive knife skills you’ve ever seen. Chef Alcina placing her hand gently on the small of the new line cook’s back on her way by. Chef Alcina’s triplet daughters helping out as waitresses of the restaurant. Chef Alcina’s pleased little smirk when her line cook correctly pronounces the name of a Romanian dish. The sentimental look in her eyes as she cooks her childhood favorites.

AH! Head empty, just Chef Alcina.

[coffee-and-geto]

“HOW CAN I LOVE WHEN I’M AFRAID TO FALL?”

“I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.”

pairing: CEO! satoru gojo x f!reader

summary: to your almost regret, your life as a single mother seems to be weighing more and more heavily on your worn-out shoulders. so what could be better than pretending to be the CEO’s girlfriend of the business you work for, knowing that his father is the general manager?

warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, her daughter is called hinata, fake dating/single mom tropes, angst, mother insecurities, fluff, reader’s ex is a jerk, unprotected sex, sex (p in v), overstimulation, pussy drunk (satoru), nipple play, fingering (f!receiving), oral (m), this fic is (really slightly) inspired from the french book ‘un printemps pour te succomber’ by morgane moncomble, including therefore small similar dialogues, (pls guys learn french only to read this masterpiece!!), fanart by @/ilameys on twt.

wc: 10,154

“Can I taste the frosting?”

Your lips curve into a smile. “Of course, angel.” You crouch down and hand the spatula coated in pastel pink frosting to your five-year-old daughter. Her little fist wraps around the handle, and joy spreads across her angelic face like rays of sunshine. “So? How is it?”

“It’s so good!” she exclaims, and you chuckle.

“I’m glad you like it.” You glance at the clock in your kitchen. “I’ll put the frosting in the fridge. While the cake bakes, go back to playing, and I’ll call you to help decorate the cake as soon as it’s ready, okay?”

Hinata nods, blowing you a kiss that you return after a moment of surprised hesitation, your lips forming an “O”. Amid delighted laughter, she skips away, and you turn back to face the bowl of cake batter.

Why does it have to be so hard?

Every birthday, you hold back tears because who said ‘single mom’ doesn’t rhyme with ‘baking your own birthday cake so your daughter can sing to you’? But what hurts more — this, or seeing your flesh and blood envy her female friends who have their dads in their arms and their mothers content with their families?

The silence of loneliness can sometimes be louder than company.

“Happy birthday! Happy birthday, mama!” your daughter sings, clapping her hands as you blow out your candles in the warm, yet dimly lit, living room. “Come on, come on! Let’s eat the cake!”

With a knife, you cut two slices, one for each of you, and it only takes a few more minutes for both your mouths to be covered in pink frosting, with laughter echoing in the room. The heartache, briefly chased away by the short-lived joy, returns later that night when your daughter snuggles up in your arms in your double bed, which seems to be missing something.

Fuck, being a single mom is tough, you think as you wipe away the tears flooding your cheeks with the back of your hand. No one to support you, all the responsibilities fall on your shoulders, and now doubts about your daughter start invading your mind: “What if she blames you later for not having a father?”, “What if she thinks you’re a bad mom?”, “Do her friends at school say anything about you being the only unmarried woman among all the parents in her class?”

These thoughts have never stopped, not even during your pregnancy, whether about the weight gained or lost, or the changes in your body. Are these regrets? But how could you regret bringing such an angel into the world? Maybe it’s more about the lousy partner who left you the second he found out you were pregnant.

Probably the second option.

°°°

“WHERE IS MY SON?!”

A male voice thunders across the entire floor of the company. You jump, turning to one of your colleagues over the small partition set up for employee privacy. “Who’s yelling like that?” you whisper, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“I heard it’s the new general manager…”

Your frown deepens. “Is that why they handed me the summary of our sales figures to drop off at the office upstairs?” To prove your point, you lift the massive stack of documents.

Your colleague presses his lips together, his eyes widening in a way that already gives you the answer. “Oh God, you’re the one in charge of that? Good luck. It’s to be delivered to the new director.”

A sigh escapes your lips.

For a start to the workweek, it seems you’re about to face the stormy mood of the new boss, who apparently brought his kid to the office. What a perfect beginning.

As usual, the upper floor is deserted, as it’s generally reserved for executives with direct ties to the company’s CEO. Few people take the elevator to reach the top floor of the skyscraper. Arriving in the lonely hallway, it should be a simple task to knock on the boss’s office door, drop off the elephant-weight stack of documents, and leave.

So why does the sound of running footsteps seem to be getting closer and closer behind you?

In a flash, a man dressed in a navy blue suit rushes past you, bumping your shoulder. He nearly topples the threatening stack of papers, but you manage, at the last second, to catch everything before you lose your balance. The young man opens the door to the women’s restroom, and before entering, he glances over his shoulder.

Never in your life have eyes made such an impression on you.

Two cerulean blue orbs lock onto yours with a mischievous aura. A smirk tugs at the corner of his thin, pink lips. From his pale skin to his albino hair, the man exudes charm and beauty from every pore. The sheer allure of his appearance leaves your brain too stunned to react, numbing it. How can someone be this handsome?

“SATORU!”

His serene and amused expression vanishes instantly, and you jump in response. Replaced by an exaggerated look of fear, he addresses you, “Cover for me. If he asks you, you never saw me!” And his tall, slender body disappears into the women’s restroom.

More footsteps echo down the hallway, this time from a second man, just as tall and physically similar to the young man you just encountered — though slightly older, with wrinkles lining his face and a mix of albino hair and silver from age. You have no time to react except to straighten up against the wall.

His blue eyes, more gray and stern, settle on you as he approaches. “Did you see a man? A tall idiot running around and flirting with any woman he sees,” he grumbles the last part, his eyes thoughtfully fixed on the light carpet.

You shake your head robotically. “No… I—”

“Never mind,” he cuts you off with a dismissive wave of his hand — as if your answer is irrelevant and he’s heard it at least twenty times before. He sighs and scratches at the stubble on his chin. “Who are you, anyway?”

“An employee, sir.” You gesture to the stack of documents that’s beginning to make its weight known in your arms. “I was asked to drop this off in your office.” The tone of your voice almost pleads with him to let you in and relieve you of the annoying burden.

“The report? Ah yes, of course.” You sigh in relief as he unlocks the door with his keys. “I suppose you’re wondering who I am?”

“The new general manager, I guess?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. You drop the heavy stack onto the desk and exhale deeply. “We heard you on every floor.” You can’t help but chuckle at your own remark, offering the director an apologetic smile.

He rolls his eyes, but a light chuckle still rumbles in his chest. “You’re right. It’s because of my son.”

His son?

You repeat the word aloud, confused, and he clarifies. “My son is the new CEO of this company, and I almost regret my decision to give him that position.” He shakes his head, his gaze drifting toward the blue sky visible through the large window, then refocuses on you. “I apologize in advance. He’s going to be a real handful.”

“I understand. I think we’ll manage to put up with him,” you add with a smile.

In the end, this new boss doesn’t seem as strict as your colleagues have been saying, and his story about his son is more amusing than anything. You cough slightly into your elbow and clear your throat, murmuring an apology.

“Are you sick?” the director inquires.

“A little,” you admit reluctantly, feeling embarrassed as you adjust the mask on your face. “Sorry. I couldn’t stay home.”

“No problem.” He crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “Well, I think I have some work to do. See you later, I suppose.”

You don’t hesitate to leave the boss’s office and quietly step into the women’s restroom. “Is… someone here?” you murmur in a hoarse voice.

The creaking of a door answers you, and the general manager’s son emerges from a stall, looking cautious. He looks like a little boy checking to see if his hiding spot in a game of hide-and-seek has been discovered, which makes you stifle a discreet giggle. He turns to you and offers an apologetic smile. “Sorry about earlier. I didn’t hurt you, did I, sweetheart?”

The nickname catches you off guard, and warmth floods your face. “N-No, I’m fine. You’re the new CEO, right?”

“Satoru Gojo, at your service, pretty girl.” He winks, a reminder that he’s quite the flirt.

You introduce yourself in return, running out of things to say, your hands nervously clasped by your sides.

“Pretty name,” Satoru murmurs. He closes the stall door behind him and exhales, shaking his head. “Phew! That was a close one! Thanks again!” He strides toward the exit with one last charming smile in your direction, leaving the restroom and a lingering scent of cologne behind him.

°°°°

“Why aren’t you answering?”

“Damn it, you’re so annoying with this!”

“There’s no point in moving every few months, I’m going to find you.”

“For fuck’s sake, answer my messages! I told you I need you! I swear I’ll help you raise Hinata this time.”

“I made a mistake, so let me fix it by answering my fucking messages! I know you’re reading them!”

You swallow hard, your throat tight, and press the “block this contact” button on your phone. It’s the fourth time this month. He’s been harassing you with messages and finding a way to contact you no matter how many numbers he uses, even when you change yours. The same goes for your address, as apparently changing apartments is no longer enough to escape him.

You know he’s in debt — one of the many consequences of his excessive gambling, even when you were still in a relationship with him. Smoking, drinking, and of course, downing tobacco like it was water, only to charm you while hiding this lifestyle to get you into his bed, then fleeing the moment you were pregnant.

So now that he needs a woman and a child to escape his debts, he’s reaching out to you — the woman he abandoned after promising marriage (without a ring, of course), got pregnant, and deserted, only to come crawling back to you.

“Mama? You okay?”

Your daughter’s concerned little voice pulls you out of your daze. The cartoons playing on the TV haven’t had the desired effect — they’re not distracting her from the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you day by day. Maybe today, it’s showing enough for people to notice?

“I’m fine, angel,” you reassure her with a perfect smile — perfectly fake, because that’s something you’ve learned to anchor over time.

You pat the empty spot on the couch next to you, and she nestles under your arm. “If you say so…” Hina murmurs, clutching her worn-out bunny plush.

The state of the plush catches your attention, and a pang of guilt stabs at your heart. What kind of mother lets her daughter carry around a stuffed toy in such poor condition? Maybe you are a bad mother? Otherwise, why would Hina deserve such a pitiful situation? She deserves so much better than you…

“Little angel?” you murmur as she wraps her tiny arms around your waist and nuzzles into your belly. “Are you okay?”

“I love you.”

And the three little words sound… unreal.

Hot tears blur your vision, and it takes every bit of strength you have to whisper back, “I love you too, Hina.”

°°°°

3:00 PM.

In less than an hour, you’ll need to pick up Hinata from school.

Normally, you avoid lingering at work. You go through your usual routine as an employee, nothing special or fun — a hello, goodbye, see you tomorrow to colleagues without worrying about what’s happening around you or the gossip, even when it involves coworkers getting together.

The only change: now it’s you who gets stuck with the task of delivering all the documents to the general manager. According to one of your peers, he doesn’t seem to be strict or threatening when it comes to you. So this time, you’re tasked with delivering an additional file about the production of a new product on the market to both the CEO and the general manager. For the second time, you head up to the highest floors of the company headquarters to knock on the CEO’s door — it’s the closest. But no one answers.

No surprise, since the director’s son spends his time running through the hallways to avoid his father and shirk his responsibilities, right?

You’re about to knock on the Director’s door, but a familiar gust of wind brushes your face with a soft, fresh breeze. Satoru Gojo appears beside you with a charming smile and glances at what you’re holding.

“H-Hello, sweetheart. How are… you?” he greets, slightly out of breath from yet another chase with his father.

“I’m fine. Here.” You hand him one of the folders, and he takes it, pretending to read it. “The next meeting—” But he grabs the second document and, before you can react, opens the door to his office and casually tosses them inside before shutting the door.

“SATORU GOJO! KEEP IT UP, AND I’LL DISOWN YOU!” The boss’s voice echoes through the entire floor as he appears from behind the emergency exit door. “YOU!” He points a finger at you, standing right next to him. “Still bothering our employees?” He grumbles, his jaw clenched so tightly that you can hear his teeth grinding.

“That’s not true, father!” Satoru protests, feigning outrage. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. “You’re chasing me while I’m just saying hello to my girlfriend?”

You freeze, turning your head toward him, as lost as the Director, who squints his eyes. “Your girlfriend? Since when—”

“I was going to tell you,” Satoru continues, shaking his head, his fingers squeezing your waist while you remain paralyzed. “Here’s my new girlfriend.”

“Are you lying to me and dragging some poor woman into your childish games?”

In the back of your mind, you note that he doesn’t seem to recognize you despite the last time you saw each other.

“What? I’m telling the truth! Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” And he leans in to plant an affectionate kiss on your cheek.

Your heart almost stops for a second. But you quickly snap back to reality under the insistent embrace of his arm and his hand around you. “Y-Yes…”

What kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?

“Well, if you’ll excuse us, father, my darling and I are in a hurry.” He leads you away before you have time to protest and heads toward the elevator with you.

Once the doors close, Satoru takes your hands in his and leans toward you. “I can explain everything.”

If his cerulean blue eyes hadn’t been so persuasive, you would have exploded right there and then to yell at him.

You, the girlfriend of the CEO of the company you work for? Did this really have to happen to you? You can already picture your termination letter under your nose as you exit the back of the building. A glance at your watch tells you that if you don’t hurry, you’ll be late to pick up your daughter.

“You’re in a rush?”

“I have to pick up my daughter before I’m late,” you reply curtly, “and look at the mess I’m in now!”

“I know, I know…” Satoru rubs the back of his head, right where his immaculate undercut is. “Maybe I can explain on the way? Where’s your car?” He looks around the parking lot, his eyes searching.

The question — however mundane — makes you blush with embarrassment. “I… take public transportation…” you mumble, pouting.

He furrows his brow, as if you just admitted to showering with maggot-infested soap. “Excuse me? I don’t take public transportation.”

“Well, I do.” A hint of defiance returns to protect your pride.

How could he possibly understand when he lives like a rich man, without worrying about grocery shopping, paying bills, and of course, taking public transportation during the week to avoid wasting gas because it costs an arm and a leg! But for him, that must not be part of his daily life, especially since he’s one of society’s privileged.

“Let’s take my car then.” He says this without waiting for you, as you remain standing there. He pulls out his keys and opens the passenger door. “What are you waiting for?”

“But— I— Are you out of your mind?” you burst out. “I’m not getting in that car! I’m supposed to pick up my daughter, and now I’m pretending to be your girlfriend! In front of your father!” You emphasize your words with wild, energetic gestures.

He bursts out laughing.

Cute.

“No chance. We’re going to pick up your daughter and clear this all up. And please, stop refusing to get into a car that’s way better than those buses that reek of sweat.” He rolls his eyes, and you note how much he resembles his father when he does that.

“I have an errand to run anyway,” you persist.

“And that doesn’t change the fact that I want you to get in this car,” Satoru chuckles.

Taking a closer look, the car is as luxurious as the ones you dream about at night — yours, by comparison, looks like a junk heap ready for the scrapyard. Reluctantly, you climb in, Satoru’s chivalrous demeanor not going unnoticed as he snickers at your surrender. He quickly gets in, asks for the address of the school, and sets off after starting his car, which smells just as good as he does. You feel like a piece of trash in the middle of this little universe he inhabits.

“My father bugs me every day to find a woman,” Satoru murmurs at first, one hand resting on his thigh, clad in business suit trousers, his eyes fixed on the road over his round sunglasses. “That’s one of the reasons I avoid him.”

“And why involve me?” you snap back.

“Well, to be honest, it was partly impulsive. I met you the other day, and then, in the moment, I just wanted my father to leave me alone.” He has a half-smile that makes you swallow hard, and he gives you a knowing look before returning to a serious expression. “I’m sorry for dragging you into all this.” A pause. “I just hope you’re not married, otherwise—”

“No, I— No.” You close your eyes for a moment, the innocent question burning like a fiery arrow piercing your already aching heart. Did you just hear a sigh of relief? “And your father doesn’t seem to have recognized me since the other day,” you can’t help but point out.

“The mask.” Satoru grips the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “He didn’t recognize you because of that. He’s always had a bad memory and poor eyesight.”

“But you recognized me.” You focus on the road’s scenery to avoid confronting his mesmerizing eyes. “I’m not going to wear my mask forever, you know? And I don’t want to keep pretending—”

“Please,” Satoru whispers, placing a hand on yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just until he and my family get off my back.”

“I’m sorry, but—”

“How much do you want?” He asks immediately, as if he just remembered something.

“What? No! I don’t want your money!” you protest as quickly as he did. “No, I…” And you groan, sinking into your seat.

Holy shit!

“What have I gotten myself into, seriously…” you moan, crossing your arms over your chest, a grimace distorting your features.

“Please. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ll do everything to make it just a minor detail… I’m only asking you to change your name in front of my father when you pass as my girlfriend, wear a mask, and change your hairstyle at work — if we want to avoid suspicion. He won’t suspect a thing, I swear.” He pulls into the school parking lot and parks quietly.

Thoughts bombard your already exhausted mind, and you massage your temples. Why does this have to happen to you and no one else?

Satoru murmurs your name, making you lift your head. “It will only be a few family events, just for appearances, nothing more. I won’t bother you any further.”

You sigh, and the sound of the bell signaling the end of classes rings out. “I need to think about it. Thanks for the ride. Have a nice—”

“Come back. I’ll take you home,” Satoru suggests, pressing the button to unlock your door.

What’s the point of refusing?

You nod, finally getting out of the car to go pick up your daughter, who runs toward you as soon as you reach the gate.

"Mama!" She jumps into your arms.

You return her embrace, heading towards Satoru’s car. “Did you have a good day?”

“So much fun! I made you a drawing!” She’s practically bouncing as you reach the car.

Noticing your daughter’s confused look, you clear your throat. “Uh… A-A friend of mine is giving us a ride home, okay?” She blinks innocently and waits for you to open the car door, which is almost as tall as she is. Hinata gets in as you do, and you cough slightly. “This is Gojo. My friend.”

“Hello, princess.” Satoru turns his head over his shoulder with a big smile. “What’s your name?”

“Hinata,” she replies, her legs gently swinging.

“Very pretty.”

“Thank you.” She blushes and tries to hide a smile.

On the way, you try to fill the awkward silences with small talk until you arrive at the supermarket.

You had promised to buy Hinata a new stuffed animal since last night after spending hours worrying that you weren’t being a good mother. Again.

“That one!” Hinata almost runs towards a bunny plushie that’s twice the size of her head. She grabs it with her little arms and gives it a hug.

Satoru and you reach the aisle, and out of habit, you check the price under the albino’s watchful eye. Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets when you see the amount, and you place a trembling hand on Hina’s shoulder. “Angel, I think it’s—”

“…Perfect,” Satoru finishes, his large hands taking the plushie from your daughter’s tight embrace to check the price tag with its shocking number. “Do you like it, little one?” he asks, looking down at her.

Hina nods energetically. “Yeah!”

“Then we’ll take it.” Satoru hands the plushie back to her and turns towards the checkout lane, already reaching into one of his pockets for what looks like… a wallet.

You react immediately, your hands finding their way around his arm. He doesn’t push you away at all and even smiles at the contact. “Gojo… No.”

“It’s Satoru to you, sweetheart,” he whispers gently. “And why not? It’s just a stuffed animal,” he scoffs. He takes Hinata’s hand so she can place the plushie on the conveyor belt.

“No, it’s not nothing to me,” you persist through clenched teeth, embarrassed that the cashier might be paying attention to your conversation.

Satoru shrugs. The cashier scans the plushie, and he uses contactless payment to pay for it. With your hands still around his arm, he places one of his on top, an intimate closeness.

“I could get used to this,” he murmurs near your ear, making you turn beet red. But he can’t continue as your daughter clings to Satoru’s leg like a koala, showering him with a thousand thank-yous for the gift. “You’re welcome, little one.” His hand gently ruffles her hair. He grins, now turning back to you. “It’s on me. You don’t owe me anything.”

Your discreet protests, so Hinata doesn’t suspect anything, come to an end when he drops both of you off in front of your home. Hinata commented that Satoru’s car looked like the one from the movie Barbie: Princess Charm School she had seen recently. He unlocks the doors as you get out of the car. Satoru’s hand catches yours, slipping a piece of cardstock into it. His contact details are on it.

“Just in case,” he mouths silently.

Nevertheless, you slip the business card into your pocket and respond just before closing the door, “I accept.”

°°°°

“And no funny business, okay? Never run in the hallways, if he tells you to wait, don’t move an inch, and—” You stop yourself as you notice your daughter is more interested in admiring the elegant decorations of the office hallways with wide, doe-like eyes and an adorable, slightly open mouth.

To your great misfortune, Hinata’s preschool is on strike for a while — which means almost all the teachers are absent. So how do you take care of your daughter when you can’t afford to miss work? By bringing her to your fake boyfriend’s office, of course! You quickly make your way toward Satoru’s office, Hinata following with her hand in yours. But just as you raise your fist to knock on his door, two large hands land on your shoulders, nearly scaring the life out of you.

“Hey, hey!” You whip around abruptly, a new mask on your face — just as the plan intended.

“Satoru…” you grit through your teeth. Hinata looks up at him and grins. You sigh.

“What do I owe the pleasure of all this lovely company?” Satoru asks, not taking his eyes off yours while giving Hinata a high-five.

As usual, he’s dressed in a luxurious suit — probably worth the rent of the apartment you live in — his slightly tousled albino hair and the familiar scent of cologne filling your nostrils. You catch yourself staring a little too long, and mentally kick yourself when his curious gaze turns mischievous.

He just realized you were checking him out, damn it!

“Hinata’s school is on strike. I need you to watch her for the day, if that’s not a problem, and since you seemed so insistent on returning the favor I’m doing for you…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. “I see you’re spending your day roaming the offices rather than staying in yours…”

“No problem at all,” Satoru replies automatically, a pleased smile on his lips. “Ready to go to the CEO’s office?” He picks up Hina, who giggles and clings to him like a koala.

It’s your turn to smile in relief. “Thank you so much. I have a meeting with your father in an hour, and I’ll come get her at noon and again at the end of the day.” The sight of the two of them close together makes your heart melt — and for once, you don’t blame yourself for seeing Hinata happy to be with someone else.

°°°°

5:00 PM.

You’ve sent a message to Satoru asking where he was, since knocking on his perpetually empty office seems to be pointless. The meeting with the other company members about organizing the launch of a new product was particularly painful, but one thing is certain: the general manager didn’t recognize you with your more subdued hairstyle and the mask plastered on your face.

“Come to the parking lot like last time.”

And that’s the last message from Satoru (you gave him your number during lunch).

In the empty parking lot, only Satoru’s car is present, and you cast a curious glance through the windows. The two troublemakers give you a grimace — tongues sticking out and faces scrunched up. You sigh as the passenger door opens automatically.

“Satoru, you don’t have to—”

“Hina said yes and that she wants to come to my place,” Satoru cuts in with a mocking expression.

Reluctantly, you get in, your heart pounding in your chest with all sorts of panicked thoughts. However, Satoru doesn’t seem to share your reservations and starts driving as soon as you’re settled.

“So, this means you’re coming to my place,” he says, hands on the wheel and a quick glance in the rearview mirror, “and I’m inviting you to dinner.”

“No—”

“Mom! Please, Satoru is being too nice.” Hinata complains. You glance back, and she looks at you with wounded, pleading puppy eyes, arms crossed over her chest.

You grumble, slumping back against your seat as they both cheer in victory.

“By the way, I’m stopping by your place so you can pack. We’re invited to a family wedding, and my father invited us.”

“WHAT?”

°°°°

You place a box with your gift on the designated table for presents, and an arm wraps around your waist. “You look stunning,” Satoru murmurs against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin, which breaks out in goosebumps.

With a flushed face, you turn your head. “Satoru…”

“What? Just because we’re pretending to be a couple and barely know each other doesn’t mean I can’t speak the truth.” He pauses. “Well, actually, we do know each other a bit, don’t we? We’ve had dinner together.” He chuckles at your half-grimacing, half-deadpan expression, pulling you closer as music fills the wedding reception hall.

You turn your head along with him toward the back of the room, where the bride’s bouquet is about to be thrown. A tight smile curves your lips — this is one thing you’ve dreamed of. Dreams have always been just that — dreams in your life, and even when love comes knocking at your door, it’s only passing through, just like your situation with Satoru.

His father didn’t notice anything, and since Satoru lives alone in a villa, it’s hard to say no when he offered for you to stay with him until he’s settled, with your own room and a staff available 24/7. He even had a tailor make a custom dress for the wedding you were both invited to. Hinata is looked after by a lovely nurse, and you’re enjoying a life you’ve always dreamed of. So why not make the most of it despite your past?

A Satoru who’s too comfortable with you isn’t so bothersome given the time you’ve spent together lately — both at the office, acting as a couple in front of certain people, and sometimes showing affection to each other to appear believable, even though they haven’t asked for kisses yet, so—

A fluffy and soft object lands right in the middle of your face and falls into your arms. You search for what seems to be a petal in your mouth and suck in your breath at what you realize it is.

The bride’s bouquet.

A gulp forces its way down your throat as the whole room applauds because… you’ve been hit in the face with the bouquet? Not to mention the lamentations of other female cousins who had jumped with all their hopes to catch it… But why you, who hadn’t asked for anything?

“Sweetheart?” Satoru mutters, his chest still pressed against your back. His tone is so sweet, nonchalant, as if you’ve been a couple for years. “My father is watching us, and I think he’s expecting me to do something.”

You swallow and nod, dreading what might happen next. Will your heart stop beating when Satoru says:

“May I kiss you?”

Never, ever, has anyone asked you that question. Not even your ex.

So, with a nervous nod, you allow him to capture your lips in a soft, languid kiss. His tender lips taste like the cotton candy children eat at the fair. They cherish yours with every movement (which you can’t help but return in kind). Each press sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

When the kiss ends, Satoru places one last kiss on the corner of your lips and clears his throat. “This is the first time I’ve wanted to marry my girlfriend.” His warm breath ignites your body.

Has your heart exploded?

If not, why can’t you breathe?

“Awww… How adorable you are with your pretty girlfriend, Satoru!”

An elderly woman approaches you both, supported by her old cane, and you note her albino hair, similar to Satoru’s.

“My dear aunt…” Satoru smiles widely without breaking away from you.

“You make a lovely couple,” Aunt Gojo continues, giving you a wise look.

“Oh, thank you.” You immediately bow and introduce yourself. Satoru’s hands squeeze your waist, and he chuckles at your manners.

“Take good care of her, you idiot,” the aunt finishes before drifting away, a tap of her cane on Satoru’s head making him sigh and rub his sore skull.

“Well, at least we look convincing, right?” he adds.

“Yes…”

Of course, he said that because he saw his aunt before you! Don’t think he said it because he meant it or—

“By the way,” Satoru takes your hand in his and leads you to the center of the dance floor, “I meant what I said before my aunt interrupted us.”

And you’re at a loss on how to interpret his playful wink.

°°°°

“WOW! Hinata, you’re so rich!”

“Is this your dad’s castle?”

Hinata takes Satoru’s hand and faces her friends in his chic living room. “It’s my daddy’s!” She nods proudly and runs off with them toward the games and festivities organized for her birthday. The children run everywhere, scream, and burst into laughter throughout the room. The perfect atmosphere.

It’s exactly what you’ve always dreamed of giving Hina.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you murmur to Satoru, who, despite your comment, shakes his head joyfully.

“I’m glad she likes it,” he replies.

“I wasn’t talking about the party.”

He freezes and turns his head toward you. “Didn’t you tell me you’d never been married?” he dares to whisper, possibly afraid of hurting you.

“That’s true. My ex left after learning I was pregnant with Hinata.” You exhale the breath you’ve been holding, the weight of the secret finally lifted.

Maybe he won’t want to keep pretending to be your boyfriend after this…

“You can still tell me his name, you know, sweetheart?” Satoru moves closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist, as if it’s completely natural for him, but there’s a tension in his touch. “I can take care of him and—”

You shake your head to dispel the tiny bit of resentment that’s urging you to say yes. “It’s okay. Thanks for agreeing to pretend to be her father. I know it’s going to be a bit of a hassle for a while, but she cares a lot—”

“Nuh-uh.” He places a kiss on your cheek, then another on the side of your neck, causing you to shiver. “She’s already talked about it in my office.”

You open your eyes wide. “What…?”

“Hinata likes you much more than you think… You’ve suffered too much,” His other hand glides over your stomach, and his thumb traces affectionate circles on your waist.

“Thank you,” you breathe, leaning into his touch. And for a moment, the weight on your shoulders completely lifts. “We haven’t had the best birthdays recently, so I’m happy to see Hinata get what she wants.” Your eyes rest on your daughter, dressed as a fairy, waving her glittery wand at one of her friends dressed as a witch. “So, thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. But which birthday are you talking about? Yours? When was it?”

Embarrassed, your mouth feels dry. “...A while ago.”

Satoru pulls you tightly against his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you, his nose buried in your hair. “You’re such a strong woman… I can take care of you if you want. You and Hina will live like princesses, and if you want to sleep with her or have your own room, that’s no problem for me.”

“What? No, Satoru, you’re joking…”

“I’m not joking,” he insists, his gaze diving into yours — and for a second, sincerity fills his cerulean eyes.

With your mouth slightly open, you whisper, “We barely know each other, and—”

“Mama! Papa! We need to break the piñata!” Hinata rushes over to you, not paying any attention to how close you are to Satoru, and grabs each of your hands.

“Yes, angel, we’re coming,” you respond to your daughter with a weary smile, before glancing at Satoru, who is no longer looking in your direction.

Why are his ears so red?

°°°°

You place the last birthday decoration box in a corner of the living room as Satoru asked and straighten up with a grimace from your aching back. “Geez…”

The upper floor of the huge house is strangely quiet, and you furrow your brows. Could they have gone downstairs?

“Hinata? Satoru?” you call out as you walk through the hallways.

The evening darkness makes it hard to see clearly, and only the faint beam of light escaping from the kitchen door guides you.

“Are you there?” you ask, gently pushing the door open, and what you find leaves you stunned.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” the two of them exclaim, holding an enormous cake between them.

A few candles illuminate the underside of their beaming faces, party hats perched on their heads. The kitchen is a huge mess, counters covered in flour and frosting, and dishes overflow from the sink, threatening to topple over.

You stand speechless as they continue to sing your birthday song. Your nostrils and eyes start to itch strangely. Why is your vision suddenly blurring? It looks like transparent waves just above your lower lashes, threatening to overflow if you dare to blink. Yet, you can’t escape it.

Not when they set the cake on the table and pull you into a hug while your nose runs, tears roll down your cheeks, and your choked-up throat is on the verge of bursting into sobs. Satoru keeps kissing your hair, never stopping for a second to comfort you with sweet and reassuring words, his hand drawing circles on your back. Hinata wipes your tears while her own roll down her little cheeks.

Seeing you cry has always been contagious for her.

The moment gives you a glimpse of what your life would be like if you had a complete family, and Satoru’s words echo in your mind. How could he be so perfect in just a few weeks of knowing him?

Once the emotion passes, a few minutes later, you eat your birthday cake with laughter and cheer, accompanied not just by the one person who now means everything to you, but by both.

°°°°

“Watch out, Hina. You have applesauce on your chin,” Satoru chuckles, his hand grabbing a napkin to wipe the excess food around the child’s mouth.

The heartwarming scene makes your heart swell. You definitely don’t regret going out with Satoru and Hinata to have a meal at a chic terrace in their company. The family atmosphere finally gives you a glimpse of the life you’ve always hoped to live. Hinata growing up with a loving father and mother, and you, loved and supported by an ideal partner. Why not reconsider Satoru’s proposal, then? He’s the first man to think of you, even after your birthday had passed some time ago.

“I’m going to the restroom,” you murmur to Satoru, who nods in response, a wry smile curling his pink lips.

But why did it have to be on this day that a man finally approaches the two people you care about just as you slip away? He clearly waited from afar for you to let your guard down around your daughter so he could show up right in the middle of the table, facing a little girl — his daughter, technically — next to a man who isn’t her father.

Satoru slowly raises his head toward him, brows furrowed and wary. “Can I help you?”

Your ex says your name. “Where is she?” he mimics asking as if he didn’t know.

“What do you want with her?”

“To talk to her. I have the right. And you’re with my daughter, just so you know.” He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to appear threatening, but Satoru remains stoic, more contemptuous than anything else in the face of such a scruffy, unshaven nuisance.

“She’s not here; you can leave,” Satoru responds. And out of protective instinct, he pulls Hinata’s chair closer to him, his eyes narrowed. Satoru understands perfectly that your ex is back to claim his rights over his daughter, just as he’s been harassing you with messages about it.

“Excuse me? When my daughter is in the arms of a stranger? I could call the police immediately and we’ll sort this out very quickly,” your ex retorts sharply. He takes a step toward a lost Hinata, her big doe eyes blinking innocently between the two men. Of course, she doesn’t recognize him.

An altercation begins between the two, which naturally attracts the attention of other diners around. And you walk into the middle of the scene, frozen in shock at the sight of your ex hurling threats at Satoru.

“She’s taking my daughter, so I’m taking her back! And it’s not a bastard like you who’s going to help her regain my rights!” your ex spits with venom. His icy eyes find yours, terrified, your hands trembling and your complexion as pale as a sheet. He’s about to address you with the same angry speech, his face flushed with rage and a vein ready to burst at his temple.

Do you get déjà vu?

“‘Your daughter’?” Satoru repeats with a deadly gaze and a jaw quivering with rage. “She’s been sitting next to me for over an hour, I’ve been feeding her for over an hour, she’s been calling me by my name for over an hour, and you’re talking about ‘your daughter’? At this point, whose daughter is she... yours or mine?”

Your ex, publicly humiliated, opens his eyes wide with hatred. “You little son of—”

“Sir, we ask that you leave the terrace; you’re disturbing our customers,” a security guard declares firmly. He’s accompanied by another colleague, and when your ex protests, they grab him by the arm and escort him away amidst his shouting and the murmurs of other customers who keep staring at the three of you.

You move closer to Satoru, who immediately stands up upon seeing you — having not realized you were there — and can only offer you an apologetic look. “Let’s go,” you silently mouth (your throat too tight to dare let a sound escape, fearing it might break before you say anything), taking the hand of a silent and lost Hinata. “I’ll pay the bill and—”

“It’s already taken care of; we can go,” Satoru gently interrupts, following you to his car.

And it’s on the silent drive back that you realize something.

You’ve officially fallen in love with Satoru Gojo.

°°°°

“Look, Mom, Dad and I made a drawing for you!” Hinata proudly holds up a colorful picture with three easily recognizable characters on it.

“Did you brush your teeth?” you ask as you take the drawing to admire it, just as much smiling as your daughter. She nods and then does a little twirl to show off her new pajamas that Satoru gave her earlier in the day. “It’s beautiful. You’re so talented,” you chuckle, leaning in to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Satoru appears in the doorway of Hinata’s room, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, a perpetual playful smile curving his lips. “Ready to go to sleep?”

“Yes, and I showed our drawing to mama,” Hinata asserts, bouncing on her bed.

“Oh yeah? Did mama like it?” Satoru asks softly, his eyes now locked with yours.

“Mama loved it and thanks Daddy,” you whisper, your voice quivering with emotion that threatens to spill over.

Half an hour later, Satoru and you find yourselves in the hallway with a sleeping Hinata and her little lullaby snores.

Satoru wraps his arm around your waist as usual and buries his face in your neck. Your heart is already racing, and your breath catches when he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” The embrace is a simple hug but with unspoken words easily guessed.

“For everything.” Satoru sighs, and for a split second, you hope he’ll let you speak, but no. “I didn’t mean to make a scene and—”

“And you think I’m going to blame you for protecting us? That I wasn’t touched by what you said about Hina?” you mumble near his ear. The closeness gives you another chance to see his ears turn red. “Is Satoru shy?” you giggle, open to teasing. He hums, hiding his face so you don’t see his expression.

“I love you.”

You blink, because you must have heard wrong. “Huh?”

“Marry me.” And he’s already on his knees before you, eyes pleading. That usually confident cerulean blue is now so submissive, so close at hand… But the sudden turn of events leaves you stunned. “I want to be your husband, not just have you as my wife. I want to raise Hina with you and give you everything you need.” Not letting himself be distracted by your stunned expression, he continues, “Want my money? I’ll give it to you. My house? It will be in your name. Want my body? It belongs to you. My heart? It’s already yours.” And he starts kissing the backs of your hands desperately. “I love you, I love you… Please, marry me…”

“Satoru… You—” you stammer, backing away, your brow furrowed. Everything is a jumble in your head, both from his touching declaration but also because it’s all moving too fast for you. “You… love me?” you manage to whisper.

He crawls to you and wraps his large arms around your thighs, almost choking with desperation. “I fell in love with you as soon as I saw you, as soon as you covered me from my father, as soon as I heard your laugh, saw the amazing mother you are, and realized I never wanted you to leave this house.” He whispers your name like a divine invocation. “I’ve fallen in love with you more than just once.”

You don’t immediately respond, and that’s okay in his eyes. He doesn’t want to pressure you, just for you to know the truth and for him to be completely transparent with you.

“It’s okay if you don’t share my feelings; I just want you to know that—” But he’s cut off by your rush toward him on the floor as you press your lips to his, pulling him into the dance of your lips that one gives to the other in a long, passionate kiss. “God… I love you so much…”

“I love you too, Satoru,” you murmur against his mouth between kisses that turn into moans as he slides his warm, wet tongue between your lips to request access to your mouth.

Both of your breaths become ragged and heavy. Satoru takes the opportunity to lift you by the underside of your thighs and lead you to his bedroom, carefully closing the door behind him without breaking the contact of your swollen, desirous lips. He gently lays you on the king-size bed with silver satin and frost-blue sheets.

With a tenderness of loving slowness, Satoru breaks the kiss. “Do you want to continue?” he asks, his voice husky. You nod timidly, but he shakes his head with his mischievous smile — finally back. “Nuh-uh. Your words, sweetheart.”

“I want it, Satoru,” you reply after a sigh of exasperation so adorable in his eyes that it makes him laugh, then he places a light kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Alright… Gonna take care of my beautiful girl, the best, the most wonderful mother, and maybe future wife—” He places a finger on your lips. “Oh no, you’ll answer that later if you want, when I have something concrete for that occasion.”

You sigh in frustration because the answer is already on the tip of your tongue, but it soon turns into a moan as he kisses the side of your neck with such deliberate slowness that you really wonder if he’s going to tease you to the limit. His hands roam over your clothed chest, exploring your already hardened nipples. His lips find their way to your collarbone, marking it with love bites and hickeys that elicit muffled moans from you.

“If you knew how long I’ve dreamed of doing this…” Satoru comments with a touch of affection, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your shirt. “Exactly how I would act with my wife—”

“And your father?” And he chuckles again.

“We don’t care about him.” He casually tosses your top aside to tease your sensitive, erect nipples through the fabric with his thumbs. “Such humble underwear… Would you like me to buy you something more daring?” he purrs, pulling on a strap to snap it against your gooseflesh-covered skin.

“Would you do that?” You bring your lips to his, and he immediately responds to the kiss. You also remove his black turtleneck sweater to reveal his toned, muscular torso. An adventurous hand glides over his chest, making him groan slightly, and then stops at his lower abdomen where a vein runs lower down. You place a kiss there with a small, sly smile.

For the first time, you’re about to make love with someone.

“Hmm? Satoru? Have you ever thought of me in outfits like this?” Your nimble fingers unbutton his pants, revealing a prominent bulge in his fly.

“Sweetheart, don’t—” he hisses between his teeth from the sensation of the slight friction between his erection and your eager fingers as they pull down his pants to caress and rub his dick through the thin fabric of his boxer. “Your hands feel so good…” He breathes softly, his hands stroking your bare arms with a feather-light touch.

“Answer my question…” you purr, your nails pulling at the underwear to free his hard, twitching cock. The tip is perfectly reddened, with veins coursing along its pale length of 8 inches. Almost automatically, your mouth waters, and you waste no time kissing the slit of his already glistening tip with pre.

“Babe, don’t tease…” Satoru closes his eyes and lets your hand wrap around his length, begging to be touched. “F-fuck— Yes, yes, I’ve thought about it, about buying you the most expensive and luxurious lingerie— ah!” he almost whimpers. You take a little over 2 inches of him into your mouth to stroke the base. “But also in those maternity clothes— oh god… C-can you really blame me?” He rolls his eyes and can’t help but buck his hips toward you, his body pleading for your mouth to take care of him.

You withdraw his cock from your mouth to whisper, “So you’re a naughty boy, hmm?”

“I won’t last if you keep this up— hgnn…” he whimpers completely, his dick splitting your mouth in two as you take him all in. Your head starts to bob back and forth, and he is so close that he spills moans of your name. “G’nna cum, baby, don’t—”

You hollow your cheeks, and the next moment, he cums in your mouth, long, thick ropes of his release filling your already full mouth with his shaft. You hum under his orgasm and swallow slowly. You slide his dick out of your mouth with the same rhythm to smile at a Satoru with ears as red as his cheeks.

“F-fuck, sweetheart,” he pants, his calloused finger wiping away the mixed cord of your saliva and his cum with a swipe of his thumb.

“M-hmm… You taste so sweet…” He doesn’t let you continue and crushes his lips against yours, tasting himself on your mouth. “I want you, Satoru…”

“I’m yours, princess.” He helps you quickly remove your remaining underwear so that you’re completely naked in front of him, knees resting on the expensive mattress. He kneels at the foot of the bed, and his fingers explore your sensitive, already dripping cunt.

“So wet for me… Did I do this to you just with my cock?” His fingers spread your swollen folds to gather your fluids and rub your throbbing, needy clit.

Your nails dig into his arm as you lift your hips under the sharp pleasure. “Satoru, it feels good…” you gasp in a whimper. His forefinger and middle finger spread your wetness all around your intimacy. “Please don’t tease…”

“Not tease? Weren’t you doing it, sweetheart? What a nerve,” Satoru scoffs, tapping his finger at your entrance. “Can I?”

“Please…” You wince as you move your hips down for more. And that’s exactly what he does, immediately inserting his finger into you, cursing.

“You’re so fucking tight… and so wet,” he curses, his finger moving in and out of you with careful softness. “I can already fuck you without making you cum first.” He stops finger-fucking you and looks up at you. “Is that what you want, love?”

You nod before arching your back on the bed. Satoru climbs onto the mattress and helps you wrap your legs around him. “That’s it…” He takes his length in his hand and teases your responsive cunt with the tip to get it wetter.

“Don’t tease, Toru, I swear…” And he smirks.

“Toru?”

“Sorry, I—”

His tip presses against your tight, pulsing entrance, and he grins. “I want you to moan that nickname while I fuck you, ’kay?” He grips your hips to pull you closer to him, and with one swift movement, he slides into you, a groan escaping from behind his lips as your deliciously tight, warm, gummy walls wrap around him as if you were meant for him.

The stretch causes a slight discomfort at first, and you almost cry in relief when Satoru notices. He patiently waits for you to adjust before starting a slow, deep rhythm inside you.

You widen your lustful eyes, tears forming at their corners. “Ah! Toru… Jus’ like that…” Your eyes roll back as the tip of Satoru’s dick hits the back of your cervix, making you shiver and tighten around him. “Fuck… s’deep…”

“So fucking perfect, so fucking mine,” Satoru groans, his hips rocking into you without ceasing to swell between your gummy walls. His chest rises and falls in a breath as ragged as yours, asking for more every time you moan for him to go deeper. (He discreetly rolls his eyes and babbles incomprehensible words — completely pussy drunk.)

And that’s exactly what he does. He slams back in brutally, making you cry out his name with each thrust. “Shhh… You don’t want Hina to hear us, right? So keep quiet, baby…” He helps stifle your gasps and moans of pleasure by capturing your lips with his, alternating between fast, rough thrusts and slow, gentle ones in your hole that he fucks shamelessly.

Blood rushes to your ears, a rare sensation you haven’t truly felt the last time you were with someone. It wasn’t just about carnal pleasure between Satoru and you — but about love. The fusion of bodies loving each other and providing mutual pleasure, even as they burn for each other— physically and emotionally.

One of Satoru’s hands slowly slides to one of your breasts and teases a sensitive nipple. The arch in your back encourages him to detach his mouth from yours to capture the other nipple with his wet lips. The growl he lets out sends a wave of intense shivers through you, making your eyes roll in overstimulation.

“P-please, Toru, please, I’m already close,” you whimper against your trembling palm — a feeble attempt to contain your sweet sounds as he speeds up his hip movements in your sloppy cunt — the sound of his balls slapping your skin filling the room. Your words are punctuated by the tightening of your walls around him, swearing he could cum inside you just from hearing you beg.

“Cum on my cock, baby, cover it,” he coos, giving another kiss to your abused chest. The clenching of your jaw with your teeth dug into your lower lip forces you to groan. “Want me to fill you up?” And you nod, tears showing your imminent orgasm. “Anything for you, my beautiful girl.” His hips slam against yours, and his fingers continue to tease your breast, rubbing your puffy clit.

Satoru’s own breath becomes heavier, more labored as he keeps singing praises while you gasp, his lips pressed along the line of kisses he’s placing down your jaw. “T-Toru, Toru, cumming!” you cry out as your walls spasm around his cock while he reaches his peak and fills you with his hot, liquid release, warming your lower abdomen. You see blinding stars illuminating your vision.

He hisses almost gutturally, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “Oh god… S-Squeezing me while I’m cumming too…” He closes his eyes for a moment, letting his peak subside at the same rhythm as yours, his forehead damp with sweat resting against your chest. 

Only pants and groans escape your lips, each one accompanied by difficult swallows and the feeling of your sweaty bodies pressed against each other.

“How was it? Did I make you feel good?” Satoru asks immediately, once his breath has returned.

The concerned questions touch your heart so deeply that you lift tearful eyes to him. “Are you going to leave, after this?”

His expression falters, and he gently withdraws from you to envelop you in his embrace. “No, baby, of course not… I won’t, I swear on my life I won’t leave you… I’m not him. I’m the one who hopes you won’t leave…” he whispers hurriedly. “Don’t think about that. I’ll always be here, for you and for Hina…”

You sniffle, your eyes red. But Satoru smiles tenderly, wiping away your hot tears. “Save your tears for later, sweetheart.”

“Why?” You clear your throat.

He sighs, the aftermath of the effort from the activity settling on him, and places a chaste kiss on your sweaty temple. “Did I tell you that my father invited us to dinner tomorrow night?”

“No,” you shake your head, “but what’s the link?”

“Don’t you understand?” he murmurs in your ear, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “It doesn’t matter. You’ll understand in time.”

°°°°

“I see. So it was an unexpected encounter.” Gojo’s father nods, shrugging his shoulders. “But I wonder how a woman like you can have feelings for such a fool…”

Satoru chokes on a piece of meat he’s chewing and takes a sip of his water. You stifle a giggle, with some steamed vegetables speared on your fork, just waiting for you to devour them. For a man who appears so stern and strict, Mr. Gojo is quite a wealthy man who spends his days reprimanding his son for not doing this or that.

Yet, there’s a certain paternal camaraderie between them — a father-son relationship, if you will.

“That’s not true,” Satoru retorts, his voice still gravelly. He has an adorable pout on his lips, like a child wrongly scolded.

“Yes, like you’re not a womanizer,” his father retorts, rolling his eyes.

“It was so you’d leave me alone,” with furrowed brows, he wears a mischievous smile at his father’s incredulous expression, “but sweetheart came into my life,” he continues, looking at you with a tenderness he has rarely shown.

“I hope you manage to put up with him until… well, until you decide to marry — if that’s what you choose,” his father sighs, turning his attention back to the dish in front of him.

“Satoru isn’t a bad person, you know,” you start gently. “He is certainly a thoughtless brat with grotesque immaturity,” Satoru almost spits out his water this time, and you continue with a wry smile, “but he has a great sense of attention and unmatched generosity. I believe he will be a good husband, I assure you.”

“I must admit,” he says with a wise smile, his wrinkles less pronounced.

Satoru casually says your name, “Yeah, yeah… By the way, could you pass me the salt, please?”

You freeze, while Satoru’s father suddenly looks up with an incredulous expression. “Who?”

And you smack your forehead with the palm of your hand.

°°°°

The cries of a newborn fill the room as, breathless and on the verge of fainting, the midwives congratulate you, bringing your second child wrapped in clean blankets at your request.

“He’s beautiful…” Satoru murmurs as he approaches you, leaning down to the tiny baby with his albino hair and blue eyes — his exact likeness. “Thank you, my love, thank you, thank you, thank you…” His voice breaks as you raise a weak, exhausted hand toward him, but with a serene smile on your lips as you whisper how much you love each other.

He immediately wraps his fingers around yours, your wedding rings sparkling as they brush together like stars sealed for eternity.

a/n: how i love desperate men, hihi! 🤭 hope you all enjoyed this one-shot!

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobees @drippymcdrippison

[pathologicalreid]

here with me | s.r.

four times Spencer feels out of place in your house after being released from prison, and one time it's like he never left

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: mom!reader, dad!spencer, post prison, crying, stephen walker's death, non-specified illness, baking, kissing word count: 3.58k a/n: i love this fic format i have been wanting to do it for ages. and here we are. as always-tell me how you feeeeeeeel

“I wanna stay home,” your daughter whined from her place at the kitchen table. She periodically reached to her sister’s high chair so that she could steal blueberries from her plate.

You hummed, pouring the egg mixture into the preheated skillet, “We played hooky yesterday, bub. We’ve gotta go back to school today.” Using a silicone spatula, you started to scramble the eggs.

She grumbled unintelligibly, dramatically sliding down the chair, “Livvy gets to stay home.”

Turning down the heat on the stove, you went around the counter and crouched in front of your five-year-old, “Well, Livvy’s two, and before you ask, Finn’s not going to school either.”

“Finn’s a baby, mom. He can’t go to school,” she told you proudly.

You frowned at your daughter, “It’s hard to be the oldest, honey. We can’t keep staying home.” Ruffling her hair affectionately, you get up from the floor and go back to the stove, you continue scrambling the eggs.

To your eldest, going back to kindergarten was a fate worse than death. It wasn’t strictly that she didn’t want to go to school, it was that she didn’t want to leave home. The sniffle from the table lets you know that this morning was going to be harder than you initially anticipated. “I wanna stay with daddy,” she cried, kicking her legs at the table.

Turning off the heat, you set the pan on a trivet before going back to the table, “I know,” you responded. Every time you thought you had run out of tears, new ones managed to find their way out.

Of your three kids, Eleanor was old enough to really feel Spencer’s absence. To your dismay, she ended up bearing some of the burden of her father being gone for three months. After staying with your parents for a few days, she was finally reunited with her dad yesterday morning, and they had been nearly inseparable since.

“Oh, Nell,” you sighed, cupping her cheeks in your hands, “I don’t know if daddy has plans today. He has a lot of stuff that needs to be done.

Pulling away from your touch, she frantically wiped the tears from her eyes, “I can do stuff too,” she whimpered.

She unwound your resolve like a ball of yarn, “I know you can, honey. I just…” you faltered. You had let her miss so much school over the last three months that the school had sent letters home, “We’ll just have to see.”

You sighed helplessly, standing back up and smiling softly at Olivia, who had successfully gotten blueberry juice everywhere. Returning to the kitchen, you put some scrambled eggs on Eleanor’s plate and put more in a bowl for Olivia, setting it aside to cool more before you give it to your toddler.

Putting the pan in the sink, you flipped on the tap before starting to clean it. While you kept a watchful eye on the baby monitor, you didn’t notice Spencer come downstairs and walk into the kitchen. In fact, you were completely unaware of his presence until he spoke, “Can I help with anything?”

You lost your grip on the pan, sending soapy water flying all over the kitchen as you frantically tried to catch the handle. Eleanor either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Olivia thought it was hilarious. “Oh,” you breathed as Spencer reached over and turned off the water, “You scared me.”

The two of you shared a timid glance, his hand ghosting over your waist as he walked past you to where the girls were sitting.

Biting the dead skin off of your lips, you finished rinsing the pan before setting it on a drying mat. You were wiping down the countertop when Finn finally woke up, and you dropped everything to go get him from his crib, almost like you were running on autopilot.

Unzip the sleep sack. Change the diaper. Get dressed. Cuddle him. Every morning. In that order.

Resting the groggy baby on your hip, you made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen, starting the bottle warmer and listening to the conversation between Spencer and Nellie.

“What if you go to school today, but on Friday we can both take the day off? We could go out for lunch,” he offered, crouching down so he was at her level.

She looked pointedly over at Olivia, who was happily eating the eggs that you assumed Spencer had given her, now thoroughly doused in ketchup, “Just us?”

Spencer nodded reassuringly, “If it’s okay with mommy, we can have a daddy and Nellie day.” He reached out tentatively and tucked some of her hair behind her ear, everything about him seemed so timid.

You looped around the kitchen table, ruffling Olivia’s hair before doing the same to Eleanor’s and even Spencer’s, which made Olivia giggle.

“Can I?” Spencer asked, nodding his head to the bottle that you had just grabbed from the warmer.

Blinking absently for a moment, you eventually nodded, handing Finn over to his dad along with the bottle, watching as Spencer cradled him, walking him around the kitchen while his bottle was clamped between his tiny hands. “Hey, girls, time to get dressed,” you said, forcing yourself to peel your eyes off of your husband.

Eleanor groaned but got up anyway, trudging up the steps while you followed with Olivia in your arms, feeling like you were missing something without Finn also in tow.

Nell made her way back down first, sitting on the couch and watching her dad, keeping an eye on him like she was afraid he was going to disappear before her very eyes. “Daddy?” She whispered, her voice barely audible from your place at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah?” He asked, you heard the sound of him setting the bottle in the sink.

She’s quiet for a moment before responding, “I missed you.”

Spencer’s footsteps stopped abruptly, “I missed you too, lovebug.”

You started to make your way down the stairs, letting Olivia go down on her own now that she wasn’t covered in blueberry. Eleanor looked at you with big eyes before helping her sister climb up on the couch. “Finny, Finny, Finny,” Olivia echoed.

Zipping up Eleanor’s school lunch in her bag, you sighed, hoping you were doing the right thing by sending her to school. “Hey, Nell,” you said, checking a new message on your phone, “Mrs. Jareau is here.”

JJ’s carpools had saved you multiple times while Spencer was in prison, you were just grateful she was willing to continue them.

Normally, she’d run out the door at the prospect of being able to talk to Henry, but this time she lingered by the front door, holding her backpack straps in her hands and staring at her dad, “Will you be here when I get home?”

He looked at you, a thousand emotions flashing in his brown eyes, and he squatted in front of her, “I’ll be here,” he said, holding out his pinky finger to interlock with her much smaller one. “I promise,” he said, kissing her forehead before standing up.

Once you knew she was off to school, you made sure Olivia was settled in on the couch and Finn was in his bouncer before going back to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. You were placing dishes in the dishwasher when Spencer came back.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning against the countertop and handing you a bowl to put on the top rack.

Taking the bowl, you didn’t look at him as you placed it in the dishwasher before putting a tablet in and pressing the start button, “I wish you’d stop apologizing.”

He stepped slightly closer to you, “I know. It’s just… watching you handle all three of them in the morning. It’s incredible,” he praised you. “I left you alone,” he said mournfully.

You shrugged, having never really thought of it that way, “You didn’t leave me alone. I had them,” you said, nodding in the direction of the living room, where Finn and Olivia were having a conversation that only the two of them could understand.

You sighed in relief as the shower water washed over you, an early afternoon shower just before Eleanor got home from school, the little ones were down for their naps, and you had to race against time before one of them woke up. It didn’t give you a lot of time to just sit under the running water, but you’d have enough time to wash your hair before you needed to pause the shower.

You had narrowly avoided disaster this morning when the girls’ breakfasts had been mixed up. Thankfully, you navigated a toddler meltdown that was triggered by the appearance of ham in her eggs. Poor Spencer was still confused even after you explained to him that she wouldn’t eat ham because it’s pink and pink is her favorite color.

It wasn’t something that made a lot of sense to you either, but the only person that it needed to make sense to was your two-year-old.

Rinsing your hair, you remembered how happy Spencer had been when he got Finn down last night. He’d spent the day talking about how babies don’t start to really recognize faces until they’re around four months old, and that was about how old he was when Spencer left.

Finn knew his dad. He’d even started reaching out for him when he wanted to be held but feeling comfortable enough to be put down for the night by him—it felt like a milestone.

The crying started right after you finished rinsing your hair, you quickly shut off the water and grabbed your towel off of the hook. Wrapping it around yourself, you dried off your feet before opening the bathroom. Sometimes when Finn cried while you were in the shower, you’d just bring him in with you to finish, but when you opened the door, his tears were already waning.

Spencer had gotten to him first, scooping him out of the crib in your room and holding him to his chest, “Hey, buddy,” he cooed softly, “What’s wrong?”

The baby chattered in response, gripping the cotton of Spencer’s t-shirt in his tiny fists and wiping his tears away.

“You’re alright,” Spencer whispered, placing him on your bed to undo his sleep sack, smiling at his son when he kicked his legs once freed. “You just wanted to be held, huh? Your sister was the same way when she was a baby,” he said.

Nell. He was remembering Nell as a baby, who slept best when she was being held and would cry if you were out of her line of sight.

Spencer turned around, stopping in his tracks when he saw you in the doorway, “Did you finish?”

You’d been caught, “Oh. Could you get a new soap from the hall closet? We’re out,” you fibbed, mindful of the way your hair was still dripping wet.

He frowned, “I just put a new one in this morning. Did you look on the caddy?”

Blinking, you shook your head, “No, my bad.”

You had already started closing the door when he called for you, “Honey?”

Pausing, you peeked out the door to look at him, “Yeah?”

“I’m here,” he told you, something urgent in his tone.

Your face warmed, the reminder of his presence making your heart race, “I—” you faltered, “I know.”

You had managed to get Nell out the door without a fight this morning with the promise of her father-daughter date tomorrow. Olivia was settled with her toys in your line of sight and Finn was in a sling. The baby hadn’t slept well last night, and you were fairly certain that he had a new tooth poking through. He seemed fine now, catching up on sleep while you wiped down the kitchen.

Spencer was across from you, filling out some required papers for his reinstatement hearing. He hadn’t fully committed to seeking reinstatement until you brought it up. Frankly, you were horrified by the fact that Spencer was under the impression that you would ask him to leave the BAU for any reason.

“What do you have planned today?” Spencer asked you, still focusing on the papers while making gentle conversation with you.

You raised your eyebrows briefly, “Really awesome exciting stuff.” You took a sip of your coffee before adjusting Finn’s sling. Very slowly, you were beginning to find a new routine with Spencer and the kids in the morning. Spencer was learning about everything that had changed, and you were learning how to give him more responsibilities around the house.

You needed to let go of the notion that you were still alone. Spencer hummed in response, laughing at your blatant oversell, “Like what?”

Smiling, you dried your hands on a tea towel before standing next to him, distracting him from his paperwork with the cuteness of a sleeping baby. “There is so much dirty laundry in this house,” you told him, “I’m surprised anyone has any clean clothes.”

“Anything else?” Spencer asked, placing one hand gently on your hip and pressing a tentative kiss to your lips.

You hesitated, “Uh, cooking?”

He looked at you curiously, “Cooking for what?”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you looked over at Olivia, making sure she was preoccupied before answering, “Monica and the kids.”

Realization dawned over Spencer’s face, “Oh,” he breathed. It didn’t surprise you that Spencer had conflicting feelings about Stephen’s death, given that he hadn’t known him that well prior to his arrest, but he and his family had grown close to you in your husband’s absence.

You nodded, “There’s a meal train thing going on for them, so I was going to make some stuff and drop it there later.” Tentatively, you smoothed Spencer’s hair back, needing something to do with your hands, “Maya used to babysit a lot when I needed extra hands. I just want to feel like I’m returning the favor.”

“Can I come with you?” Spencer asked, tilting his head back to look up at you.

Smiling softly at him, you answered, “Of course.” You sniffled, “If we time it right, we could pick Nell up from school at the end of the day.”

He squeezed your hip comfortingly, “I love you.”

You leaned down and kissed him again, “I love you too.”

The chattering woke you up, Finn in his crib talking to himself as you glared at the alarm clock. It was just past three in the morning, and the second thing you noticed was that you were alone in your bed.

You sat up in a panic, worried you had dreamt the past few weeks until your eyes found Spencer’s watch sitting on his nightstand. Rubbing your eyes, you dragged yourself out of bed before getting Finn from his crib, taking his sleep sack off to make him easier to hold, “Hey,” you whispered, “Let’s go find daddy.”

It didn’t take you long, Spencer was sitting on the floor in the hallway, his knees bent to his chest as he looked into Nell’s room, her space nightlight providing a soft glow into the hallway.

“If you move to the left about a foot, you can see both of them at the same time,” you informed him.

He listened, shifting over so that he could see Eleanor and Olivia at the same time, both of them sleeping peacefully in their beds. Spencer looked up at you, “Why do you know that?”

You slid down the wall, taking a seat next to him and settling Finn lengthwise along your thighs, “At the beginning of March, Nell brought home a virus from school and gave it to Liv, and then one of them gave it to Finn. So, I’d sit out here in the hallway and watch the girls with Finny in my lap,” you told him, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Just so I’d be nearby if any of them needed anything,” you kept your voice at a whisper, rocking your legs in hopes that it would soothe Finn back to sleep.

Spencer didn’t respond for a moment, thinking through what you had said before finally speaking up, “No one told me they’d been sick.”

Humming, you smoothed the baby’s hair back, keeping it out of his face, “I didn’t tell anyone.” To this day, no one else knew that you had juggled three sick kids at once, “I lied to JJ and told her that I was keeping Nell home for a few days, and she didn’t push for more information.” No one had pushed you for anything in the past three months.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Spencer asked, leaning his head on yours and resting a hand on your knee.

You didn’t want to, quite honestly. You hadn’t wanted to have to call your mom or anyone from the BAU when you needed help because it felt like an admission of sorts. Admitting that Spencer was gone long-term and that you were a solo parent. “I don’t know,” you lied, “I felt like I had something to prove to the world.”

Spencer swallowed thickly next to you, “Did it work?”

Shaking your head, you sighed a breath of relief at his presence, “No.”

He was quiet for a while, likely wallowing in a pit of guilt that he had been constructing for weeks, “We should get him back to bed.”

“Spence?” You whispered, closing your eyes and listening to the sounds of your quiet house, “Can we just stay like this for a little while?”

Humming a confirmation, Spencer placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, leaving his hand resting on your knee while the two of you remained in the hallway, enjoying each other’s company.

“We should’ve done cupcakes,” you said mournfully, turning on the oven light to see that there was something very off about the cake you’d put in the oven.

Spencer hummed, looking at the recipe again to see if there was something you had missed, “Why didn’t we do cupcakes?”

You huffed, “The Pinterest photo I found was of a cake.” It was a perfect cake, complete with a purple graduation cap made out of fondant that you could put on the top. The only problem was you had severely overestimated your baking abilities.

“So,” Spencer started, “It’s your fault.”

Scoffing, you tapped his chest with a silicone spatula, “It’s the fault of whoever posted the original photo!”

Spencer smiled at you, a dopey look in his eyes despite it being one in the morning. “We should’ve asked Penelope to do the cake,” he told you, flipping over the recipe you had printed out.

“We can make a cake,” you retorted, you were throwing a very small party for Nell’s last day of kindergarten—the first time you’ve invited a group over since Spencer was arrested. “You have three PhDs and you don’t think you can bake a cake?”

He raised his eyebrows at you, “This might come as a surprise to you, but none of my coursework ever involved baking.”

You grinned at him, “That does surprise me, it’s basically chemistry,” you challenged.

Spencer rolled his eyes, “Okay, come here,” he said, pulling you into his arms by the fabric of your t-shirt.

Realization fell over you as you scrambled to get away, “No! You’re gonna put frosting on my nose again.” It would be his second offense of the evening.

He followed you into the living room where you tripped over a toy truck, causing you to fall to the ground. When he offered a hand to help you up, you tugged him to the floor, causing one of the balloons that you had previously blown up to pop.

You covered your mouth to muffle your giggles, waiting to see if the noise had woken any of the kids up.

The kids were all so happy to have Spencer back, but your stomach twisted at the realization that this was the first night you’d really felt like you had Spencer back. You loved the kids, but you haven’t had a moment without them since February.

“Hey,” you said to Spencer, rolling over and flinging a balloon at him for good measure.

Carefully, you rested your chin on his chest, staring at him while he tried to calm his own laughter, “Hi,” he said back, ruffling your hair affectionately.

You took a deep breath before speaking up again, “I missed you.”

You hadn’t said it yet. You’d developed some misconstrued fear of making him feel guilty if you’d told him just how much you missed him, but it was the truth. You missed him. He smiled softly down at you, almost as if he had been waiting for you to say the words. “I missed you too,” he whispered.

Slowly, you lifted yourself up and pressed your lips to his, kissing him. It was more than any of the quick pecks you’d shared in the last few weeks, it was real. His hands dug into your waist as if he was afraid you were going to disappear, but you stayed there. You stayed with him, and you always would.

Up until the timer for the cake went off, your phone buzzing in your pocket when you finally pulled away. Breathing heavily, Spencer asked, “Is it too late to ask Penelope to do the cake?”

[chiyuuchu]

Some things never changed <3 (30th September 2024)

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Prompt! Katsuki’s future son travels back in time, leaving the entire bakusquad in shocked when they find out who Katsuki ends up with

It was a lazy afternoon, and the Bakusquad was chilling in the common room of the U.A. dorms. Bakugou lounged on the couch, arms crossed, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here, while Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Jirou were sprawled around the room, passing time and chatting.

Out of nowhere, a bright flash illuminated the space, causing everyone to jump. In the middle of the common room, a young boy no older than eight appeared, as if he’d stepped straight out of thin air.

"What the hell?!" Bakugou shot up from the couch, glaring at the boy, who had the same spiky ash-blonde hair and piercing red eyes as him. The kid’s expression? A scowl, eerily similar to Bakugou’s.

The boy smirked up at Bakugou. "Wow... Dad, you really were just as loud as Mom said."

The entire room froze. Kirishima blinked in confusion. Mina slowly straightened up in her seat, and Kaminari’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

"D-Did he just call you *Dad*?" Kaminari stuttered, eyes wide.

Bakugou stood there, absolutely dumbfounded. "What the hell are you talking about, brat?!"

The boy crossed his arms, looking smug. "I’m your son. From the future. I wanted to see what you were like in high school."

It felt like time stopped as the Bakusquad processed this. They all slowly turned to Bakugou, who was staring at the boy as if he were seeing a ghost.

Jirou’s eyebrow shot up. "There’s no way."

"Yeah, no way," Sero said, but then he looked at the boy closer. "Wait…"

"He... kind of looks exactly like you," Mina noted, leaning in to inspect the kid.

"And he talks like you too!" Kirishima said, now more excited than confused.

The boy huffed, unimpressed. "Of course I look like him. I’m his kid."

Bakugou’s face went through about three shades of red before he managed to growl out, "No way in hell you’re my kid. This is some stupid joke."

"I’m serious, Dad," the boy said, rolling his eyes. "You’ve always been stubborn."

Bakugou was fuming, completely flustered by the idea. "Who’s the mom, then?!" he demanded, trying to keep control of the situation.

The boy blinked, then shrugged nonchalantly. "That’s easy. It’s—"

Before he could say another word, you strolled past the common room entrance, sipping on a drink, totally unaware of what was happening inside. You gave the group a little wave and continued on your way to the kitchen, completely oblivious to the chaos.

The boy’s eyes followed you, then he turned back to Bakugou, whispering loud enough for the whole group to hear, "*Wow, Mom looks so different when she was younger.*"

The room went dead silent again, and Bakugou froze, staring at the kid in absolute horror.

Mina choked on her drink, her eyes as wide as saucers. "Oh. My. God. Y/N is the mom?!"

Kaminari burst into hysterical laughter, falling back onto the floor. "Bakugou and Y/N? No way! This is gold!"

"You’ve got to be kidding me," Jirou muttered, but she was smiling, barely containing her own laughter.

Kirishima looked like his entire world had been turned upside down. "I mean... I could totally see it! Y/N’s always been the calm to Bakugou’s storm."

Bakugou’s face was burning red. "What the hell are you guys talking about?! I don’t like her!"

The boy, clearly having fun, shrugged again. "You can deny it all you want, Dad, but you always said you two didn’t get along at first, and then, well... things changed."

Mina couldn’t stop laughing, nearly falling off her chair. "Oh my God, Bakugou has a crush on Y/N!"

"I do not!" Bakugou roared, looking like he was ready to explode.

Kaminari snickered. "Oh, come on, man, it all makes sense now! That’s why you get so weird when she’s around."

Bakugou turned to Kirishima, desperate for backup. "Tell them they’re idiots!"

But Kirishima scratched the back of his head, looking conflicted. "I mean, bro, you *do* act kind of different when Y/N’s around..."

Sero leaned back, smirking. "Yeah, and let’s not forget how you yelled at Kaminari that one time when he tried to flirt with her."

"I didn’t *yell*," Bakugou snapped, fists clenched. "I just didn’t want him bothering her."

"Sure," Jirou drawled, arms crossed. "Because you’re so protective of everyone, right?"

Bakugou’s eye twitched, and he looked ready to combust on the spot. "Shut up! I don’t like her! She’s just—just—"

"Your future wife?" Kaminari suggested with a cheeky grin.

"SHUT UP!" Bakugou barked, his face almost as red as his eyes. "That’s not happening!"

The boy snickered, clearly amused by his dad’s outburst. "Yeah, Dad, that’s what you always say."

Mina practically squealed. "Oh my God, this is the best thing ever! I can’t believe Bakugou ends up with Y/N!"

Bakugou shot a glare so intense that even Kaminari flinched. "I *don’t* end up with anyone! This is some kind of prank!"

Kirishima tried—and failed—to hide his smile. "I mean, it’s not like it’s hard to believe. Y/N’s awesome, and you’ve always had a soft spot for her."

Bakugou’s fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. "You’re all a bunch of idiots! There’s no way I’d—"

"—marry Y/N?" Jirou finished, smirking. "Sure, Bakugou. Keep telling yourself that."

The boy yawned, clearly bored now. "Can we hurry this up, Dad? I didn’t come all the way back in time just to watch you deny everything."

"Alright, that’s it!" Bakugou growled, grabbing the kid by the back of his shirt. "We’re going to figure out how to send you back, and you’re never mentioning any of this *bullshit* again."

Kaminari snickered, still laughing. "Denial’s not just a river in Egypt, bro."

Bakugou threw him a deadly glare as he dragged the boy toward the door. "Keep talking, Pikachu, and I’ll blow your damn face off."

As Bakugou stormed out of the room, the Bakusquad erupted into uncontrollable laughter.

"Man, I knew Bakugou had a thing for Y/N!" Mina said, wiping away tears of laughter. "But I never thought he’d be in *such* denial about it!"

Sero smirked. "This just proves it. Bakugou’s a softie at heart."

Kirishima chuckled, shaking his head. "I can’t wait to see his reaction when this happens for real."

As the laughter continued, you poked your head back into the common room, confused. "What’s so funny?"

Jirou snickered and waved you off. "Oh, nothing. Just... Bakugou being Bakugou."

You raised an eyebrow but shrugged, walking off again, still completely unaware of the chaos that had just unfolded in your name.

The Bakusquad exchanged knowing looks, grinning from ear to ear. One thing was for sure—Bakugou’s denials weren’t fooling anyone anymore.

[kurogxrix]

4 Minutes

Dad!Mob!Bucky Barnes x Mom!reader

IN WHICH you and Bucky had limited time to spend intimately during the past few days, leaving you both extremely sexually frustrated. When your son’s occupation offers you 4 minutes of free time, Bucky’s damn adamant on making your legs shake in less than 3.

Warnings: SMUT, dry humping, P in V, quickies, kitchen counter fuck.

The sun had risen for around 2 hours now, and your husband had yet to leave the bed. You had thought that maybe he’d left for work after you had gotten up in the morning, because the mob was no easy job after all. Though after a quick check up on your sleeping son, you’d found his father in the same exact position, head in the clouds on your shared bed despite it already being 7 in the morning. 

The Alaskan King mattress draped on the luxurious bed frame made a man as huge as Bucky look so small, you couldn't even imagine what you and your son looked like when it was only the two of you lying down on it. The fluffy mattress was just so plushy and dreamy that you couldn’t even blame Bucky for sleeping in, so instead, you made use of yourself around the house. Sure you did have maids maintaining the mansion during daytime, but you were bored and there was clearly nothing better to do while waiting for your two boys to wake up. 

You quickly realised that your newfound occupation was not going to last, if it had even managed to start, because how could you clean a house that was already spotless? Yet again you had already gotten bored of it, so instead you found amusement in mindlessly scrolling on your phone. Your feet were fast to lead you to the kitchen, a path that was solidly traced deep inside your head. From the endless of secret midnight trips that you’d take to satisfy your cravings during pregnancy, you’d notice yourself finding an odd comfort in the expensive marble floor and matching countertops. 

Too entranced in the media to notice the heavy footsteps that were closing in on you, the bulky arms entrapping your waist surely did scare you at the moment, and you nearly let out a yelp as your phone escaped your grip. Thanking yourself for having leant against your kitchen counter, you turned around to glare at your husband. 

“Morning Malyshka, little trouble not runnin’ wild today?” Bucky rasped out, his hands still gripping onto your hips as if to keep him grounded. You found the smirk on his face less than amusing, and you reckoned that he was probably reliving the jumpscare that he had given you inside of his head, probably so proud of his little prank. 

“Lev is with his nanny right now, I didn't have time to see him earlier because apparently he’s been preparing a surprise for us. He did however ask through Grace for his papa and mama to be present in about 10 minutes.” you recalled the exact words that Lev’s caretaker, Grace, had spoken to you a few minutes ago. You’d told her this morning that she could head back home, given that apparently Bucky had taken a day off to stay at home. Though on her way to the door, she had been unfortunately intercepted by a freshly woken-up Lev, but she didn’t mind one bit. Your son was quite the charmer, nobody could resist those doe eyes of his. 

The smile present on your face as you spoke about Lev could only feed Bucky’s admiration towards you, if it was even possible to grow the endless love that he already held for you. Your ears caught onto the grunt that Bucky had let out in response, instead too busy taking in your outfit with those hungry baby blue eyes of his to even mutter out a proper verbal response. 

It had almost been too long since you both have had time to touch the other in a much more intimate way than you were currently doing, and it almost made you crave. Scratch that, you were past the point of craving, in fact you felt so deprived of it that you were ready to get down on your knees and pray for god to release you of the intense sexual frustration that you felt, but that sounded a little too vulgar. You knew that Bucky felt the same, that he’d spend way too many nights fisting himself in his office while your name fell in short groans under his breath. But work had been getting busy, and you had to care for things around your home while your husband attended those never ending meetings. 

Now would have been the perfect time to relish in each other, considering Bucky had no work 

Now would have been the perfect time to relish in each other, considering you were both currently alone and your son was getting safely watched over. But you feared that Grace was going to come fetch you sooner than your son had demanded, and the allocated time was not even that far from then. Nevertheless, you could read straight through Bucky’s mind as he gazed at you like some starving man. His cock painfully aching in the restraints of his plain boxers as he enjoyed the sight of you in nothing else but a white, oversized button down shirt and a pair of comfortable cotton panties. 

“Whatever you’re thinking of right now, cut it out okay? I’m sure that Grace said she’d come fetch us at 9:30, and look at the time now,” 

you pushed Bucky further back with two fingers on his chest, creating space between you both as you felt his intense stare burning literal holes through the thin fabric of your shirt. Bucky craned his neck towards the nearest clock, groaning in annoyance when the hands showed a clear 9:24.

When he looked back towards you, you had already turned your body back towards the counter. Leant against the cool marble surface with your phone in hands, Bucky had to suppress a groan at the sight of your ass in those tight little panties, right in front of him, ready for him to ruin. 

A surprised gasp left your lips as you felt large, warm palms engulfing your hips once more. This time however, you felt Bucky pulling your hips onto his, making your ass collide against his straining cock. You almost groaned at the feeling of his hard clothed length pressed up so tightly against you, the wet spot of precum staining his boxers already starting to soak into your own underwear. 

“C'mon doll, allow me just those 6 minutes of your time, I promise I can even make you cum in less than 3.” you could almost feel the smirk in his tone, his warm breath fanning your neck as his naked chest pressed against your clothed back. If he wasn’t already irresistible before, you sure as hell were a saint for not falling into the temptation of your smoking hot mob husband pleading to fuck you. 

You turned back to your phone instead of audibly responding, afraid of your mouth betraying you at the moment. You tried to swallow down a moan as Bucky’s large calloused palms slid underneath the oversized button down shirt that you were wearing, daintily caressing your smooth skin. Sure your eyes were pointed at the screen of your phone, but your mind couldn’t concentrate on anything else but the feeling of Bucky’s very hard boner still pressed against you. 

You couldn’t help your mind from running, not in the compromising position that you were in. You shuddered at the memory of Bucky’s cock stretching you out like no other, his wonderful length reaching the depths of your body as you rode him greedily after a day spent away from each other. It was a nasty cocktail of filth, concocted with drool, sweat and a couple of loose cuss words thrown here and there. 

He was nothing more than a tease, and damn did he know it. The way his fingertips grazed your skin, making you want to drop the act and beg on your knees for him to touch you properly. Once again, his hands met with your hips, except this time you had little time to react to your husband pulling you further back into him. 

You’d ended up completely bent over the marble counter, your chest flushed against the cold material of the table as Bucky palmed your ass greedily, as if it’d bring him pleasure. His other hand was gripping at your upper thigh for dear life, oftentimes running up your legs seductively, leaving you with shivers running down your spine. 

You dropped your phone once he’d started rolling your hips onto his, tired of pretending like you could actually focus on whatever was displayed on your screen as he manhandled you to his will. You forced yourself to remain quiet as he continued to roll your hips onto the bulging tent of his boxers, drowning in the sweet groans that he was letting out. Too desperate to care how loud he was being, Bucky tipped his head back in pure pleasure.

Never once did it occur to you how pleasuring dry humping could be, but yet again it could’ve been because of how sexually deprived you both were. You shrugged the thought of getting caught away, blaming it on the fact that since no clothes were being removed, you could easily play it off if anyone were to walk in. 

Bucky felt as though he could burst from the sheer clothed friction itself, but it was not enough, he needed to feel you. Fuck it, he was genuinely ready to drop to his knees and beg to fuck you like a hopeless man. He’d beg to eat you like a famished boy, hell, he’d wouldn’t even mind if you allowed his fingers only. 

Thick fingers ran down the seam of your panties, sneakily slipping under the elastic band to push the cotton fabric down to pool around your upper thighs. You turned around to yell at him, clearly he was not understanding. The clock flashed at 9:26 now, and your anxiety was peaking at every moment that the second hand moved. Your words got caught up in your throat as he brought his hand up to his mouth, lubricating three of his fingers with his spit before bringing a hand down to rub at your aching pussy. 

“Fuck detka, look at you all pretty and soaked for me.” Bucky almost moaned out, tongue lapping out to wet his slightly chapped lips. You didn’t even have time to process your husband pulling down his own restraints, thick and veiny cock slapping against his toned stomach with a satisfying wet sound. Precum smeared from his cock and onto the muscles of his stomach, leaving you shaking with anticipation.

“If you’re gonna do anything then you better do it now ‘cause we only have 4 minutes!” you rushed out the words, voice shying away as you felt him pushing the fat tip of his cock through your soaking folds. You moaned at the feeling, gripping the counter so hard until you could feel your joints straining. Bucky picked up the pace, pressing a hand under his cock to help slide himself faster between your lips. 

He was drenched by now, thick cock dripping with your arousal as his eyes gawked at the way his length disappeared between the both of your bodies at each of his thrusts. Time was waiting, and Bucky knew more than anybody else as he was facing the wall-mounted clock. The warmth of your hole was calling for him, waiting for him to stretch you out like he had done so many times before. 

Bucky gripped firmly onto the base of his cock that was twitching impatiently in his hands, teasing your entrance as he slid only the tip in and out. He bit down onto his lips in order to retain the series of filth that was bound to escape his mouth, his teeth were biting so hard onto the delicate skin of his lips that he was sure it had started bleeding at some point. “Fuck and would you look at that, S’like you’re trina suck me up doll,” he ran his mouth, unable to prevent the nasty roll of his words from escaping. 

Sweatdrops ran down his toned pack of abs as he eyed the way you squirmed from nothing else but his flushed tip, resisting the urge to just bury himself inside of you right now until you could think of nothing else but how stuffed you were. Though a quick look at the clock told him to stop resisting the urge, and that’s what he’d done. You were sure that the whole building could’ve heard the cry of pleasure that left your throat as Bucky sheathed his cock completely inside of you, leaving no space for second thoughts now that he’d gone all the way.

His cock twitched at the sound of your desperate whines, your hips grinding against his in a desperate need for friction. “Thought you were the one that didn’t want this, detka? What happened to that huh?” his tone almost sounded sardonic as his eyes trained on the way your hole greedily engulfed his cock, juices lapping all over his length once more as he slowly but surely pumped himself inside of you. You couldn’t even speak back to him, already too cock drunk from what he had yet to even give you. 

His grin grew at your silence, at least in coherent words, your whines only grew as the seconds passed. You both have had many quickies in the past, in between Bucky’s break as he had you on his desk, or hidden somewhere in a closet, you name it. Though none of them have ever been as desperate as this one, as needy. Finally deciding to ease your painful awaiting of pure pleasure, he gave into the warmth.

With the mix of his swift thrust and thick finger circling at your clit, it took you no time to lose grip over the counter. Bucky took notice of your sudden weakness, and as the caring husband that he is, dragged his arm up to wrap around your torso, locking you flushed with your back against his chest. The new position had your back arching for more, your sultry moans a clear sign that you were enjoying yourself. 

The tips of his middle and ring finger were laid flat against your clit as he ran teasing circles onto it. You felt your knees buckling as Bucky’s lips left sloppy kisses at the back of your neck, thankful enough for his incredible strength as he kept you standing by his own. Pride coursed through his body at the sight of you being so dishevelled because of him, the back of your head now pressed up against his chest as you leaned into him. 

Bucky’s knees were slightly bent to reach into you, bless his large frame and impressive height, he was quite literally hovering over you. It felt too good getting fucked right by such a large man, the size kink inside of you feasting from the way his large palm could swallow you up on its own. It didn’t take long for Bucky’s forceful strokes to falter, now in a sloppy pace as his own orgasm chased up to him. 

Yours hit you like a cold bucket of water, but in all the nice ways. Like a cold bucket of water but during the driest summer days. It only took you a final sharp thrust and the endless toying of your clit to send you over the top, your toes curling and fingers digging painfully into the arm holding your torso up as your orgasm washed over you. It was a loud and whiny one, but the sound of you coming only riled Bucky up more.

His clumsy strokes were a warning that he was coming shortly behind you, and after three last, hard and deep pumps of his cock, he was milked dry inside of you. The room filled with deep grunts and your exhausted panting, you shivered as your husband’s spent breath tickled the skin of your neck. 

“Fuck that was…that was- holy shit we needed that.” bucky stammered into the crook of your neck, a heartfelt chuckle erupting from his chest as he came down from his high. The short bucking of his hips finally stopped, and you could finally release your bottom lip from the painful tug of your teeth. The both of you stood there for a couple of seconds trying to catch your stuttering breathing as the clock ticked clean on 9:30. 

You could barely even cipher the first knock that was sent at the huge kitchen doors, before the knocking resumed. You and Bucky broke apart faster than you would’ve liked to, and you groaned at the empty feeling that he’d leave behind after pulling his softening cock out of you. Reluctantly, the both of you flung the little amount of garments that you previously had on, cringing at the wet feeling of Bucky’s dripping semen getting caught by your panties. 

“We’re coming soon Grace, tell Lev to wait in his playroom while waiting for us.” you yelled loud enough for your son’s nanny to hear, although with the amount of screaming that Bucky had put you through, you doubted she’d hear much with the way your voice would rasp. Her lack of response hinted at you that she’d heard your little altercation with Bucky, and you mentally cursed at the both of you for traumatising the poor woman. 

“Dunno about you but I'm not going anywhere near our son looking like this so you’ll have to go first while I shower,” you grinned mischievously as Bucky threw his head back in an annoyed groan, already knowing what was awaiting him in a few seconds. Though you both were more than aware of your son’s mood in the morning when you weren’t there, you just felt the need to tease him a little bit more. 

“You how tempered he gets when his momma isn’t there first thing to see him in the morning, but that’s what you get for being impatient now,” you grinned, running a hand down his stubble as you stood on your toes to give Bucky a chaste kiss that he tried to chase for longer than you would allow. 

Bucky’s baby blue eyes followed your every move as you sauntered away from him with a sultry sway of your hips, the button down shirt covering the majority of your panties but it was hard to miss the dribble of his and your arousal running down your legs shamefully. Running a hand down his face, he tried not to get lost in the shameful thoughts that he had of you running through his head, instead, he was too busy mentally preparing himself for the angry fit that your son would throw once he realised that his momma wasn’t there by his side to kiss him good morning yet. 

-

this is my second smut written and i haven’t written one since 2021 so pls don’t judge LMAO😭

[terras-domain]

Who can't afford to pay the delivery driver extra and offers to "take their tip" as a tip?

Culture Shock

Miyawaki Sakura

California, USA

Le Sserafim just finished their second performance for Coachella. Whether it was loved or hated, the girls could only pat on their backs for their performance. A good night rest helps the girls sleep through the thoughts of their whole trip to a foreign country (barring Yunjin). The next day arises, and most of the girls are still sound asleep, but only Sakura was awake, maybe being the mom of the group really awakened her mom abilities to be up early and get a cup of coffee to start the day. Sitting by the kitchen counter, slurping her cup of black coffee as she scrolls through her Instagram, yet the negative comments starts to overwhelm her, making her hands slowly lose grip on her mug. Thankfully she managed to put it down safely before she drops it on the floor, that'll definitely be a mess. Before she closed the app, a post caught her eye. A post compiling a pictures of a bundle at a Target somewhere near California. Excited, she quickly googled the area, and lucky for her it's only 20 minutes away! "Oh, that's not too bad! I could get a taxi to get there." She monologued, but her mind shifted to the other members. Will they be fine without her? Eeeeh, they probably will, she thought. She got up to her room and quickly got herself changed, while her phone still rests on her palm, texting without looking. "I'm off to go shopping for a bit. Be good whilst I'm away okie~ 💜" and sent. She got herself ready, fully changed from her PJs and now in a presentable manner, ready to move out.

Kkura had to recap on how to book an Uber ride, because usually Yunjin does it and she barely focuses what the members do sometimes, so it took her a good minute to get to it. "Oh, that's pretty easy." She smiled, celebrating her victorious achievement by humming to Easy, reminiscing her wonderful time on the big stage. She wanted to scroll on her phone to kill time, but she remembered how crazy her social media feed at the moment so she decides to just fidget around, moving back and forth to look at the cool breezy morning, blowing her hair back as she enjoys the mixture of greenery and concrete. She must've spaced out too much since she didn't realized the Uber driver was already there. "Ahem, miss? Are you, Miyawaki?" A strong Californian accent jolted into Sakura's mind, popping the bubbles of her own world which made her realized she's been daydreaming and spacing out in to the view. "Oh! I'm sorry! Yes yes I'm Miyawaki." Kkura bowed repeatedly as she enters the backseat of the car, covering her face with her palms from the embarrassment. "So....Target right, Miss Miyawaki?" He asked, the taxi driver looking through his back mirror to see the flustered Japanese lady, her pale skin turning red from shame. Sakura only replied with a nod, which was enough for him to shift his gear from neutral back to drive to take her to her destination.

Judging by the way the driver wasn't fazed by the fact a singer that performed in Coachella yesterday made Sakura deduced that he doesn't know her. Cool, less talking needed for her. It's early in the morning anyways, so she couldn't gather enough social energy to be making conversations this early. The 40-ish year old driver seems like he knew the road in the back of his head, taking turns to maneuver the busy city life traffic. It was surprisingly short, a ride that was expected to be 40 minutes long due to traffic turned to a 20-minute leisure drive with the cab driver's help. "Thank you sir, how much did I owe you again?" Kkura asked, taking out her purse from her small handbag. "It's...30 bucks miss." He replied, looking at the meter counter, to calculate how much the lady needs to pay him. "Would you also like to lend a tip?"

"A tip?" Sakura was shocked, nearly jumped from shock from hearing the driver's request. The moment she heard the word tip, her mind immediately shifted to the night where she and Yunjin were sharing a room. Yunjin booted up porn on her laptop for them both to watch while touching each other. The scene included the woman sucking off the man's "tip", which made Kkura assume that's what the driver is requesting. Nervous, Sakura gave a reply, "I-I mean I would. But isn't it a bit too cramped here to be giving you a tip?" Her reply made the cab driver just as confused. "Huh? What do you mean, ma'am?" His confusion intimidated Sakura, making her heart beat faster. "O-oh, we can do it at the backseat of course! I forgot here it has more space."

The Uber driver got himself to the backseat to the backseat after parking his car. He was just trying to get some answers to the lady's answers to him asking for a tip. And this, was not what he expected. The moment he got in, Sakura helped him to sit up on the seat while she adjusted the front seat forward so there's space for her to kneel down. "Wa-wait, ma'am-" he paused as he stares at the japanese doing her thing, taking down his pants and revealing his cock. "I thought you wanted me to give you a tip?" She asked, looking up. Her eyes sprinkles innocence, that convinced the driver to understand that Sakura genuinely believes this is what he wanted. He meant money, but this works too. "W-well Miss Miyawaki, please give it to me." Sakura enjoyed the words that the man gave her, as her mouth starts to envelope his cock, beginning to suck on his growing shaft. The sight of a beauty like Sakura sucking him off made the driver extremely turned on, his cock growing bigger fast, he was ecstatic to see it. Sakura was into it, her lips wrapping around his size whilst her tongue worked his tip. The sensation was too good to hold on. "M-miss, I wa-wanna cum!" He grunted, warning Sakura who's running an assault on his cock. Sakura continues to bob her head back and forth on his cock, until eventually she takes it all inside her throat, taking it to the base as he came deep inside her throat, filling up the sweet japanese singer with cum.

Sakura's inviting lips traps his cock, not letting him free as he starts shooting cum, rope after rope of cum shooting in her mouth, reaching the back of her throat. "Fuuck...Miss. Your mouth game really surprised me." The driver panted, leaning to his seat as Kkura starts to clean her lips, licking the residue of semen and swallow. Sakura grinned as she grabs her stuff, and starts to leave the car. "It was nice meeting you mister, hope you enjoy your tip!" She waved goodbye as her hips sway, spending her day and money joyfully at the mall. Well now the US isn't as scary as she thought, heck she might've enjoyed it too much.

[luv4freddie]

Polaroid Love - F.W

Fred goes to work with his father and comes home with a muggle Polaroid camera, deciding the best use of it would be to take horrendous pictures of his girlfriend.

Fred x fem!Muggleborn reader, established relationship, reader gets red, house and age not specific, tooth rotting fluff bc I love lovesick Fred, 1.2 k words

Being a muggleborn at the Weasley household was an experience, to say the least.

In the last week since you’ve been at the Burrow, you’ve explained what rubber ducks are for, how to operate a microwave, and Pythagorean theorem.

Today Aurthur took the boys to work with him, so you were currently helping Molly cook dinner.

You had yet to understand the witchy way of cooking, so you were stuck mixing a bowl by hand while Molly sent knives, pots, and pasta flying all across the room.

You ducked a flying cutting board right as the group of rowdy boys entered the front door, your boyfriends voice in particular carrying over the noise of clattering dish ware.

“Honey, we’re home.” Aurthur calls, and Molly meets them all at the door, asking you to ‘keep an eye on’ the multitude of activity in the kitchen.

You look around with wide eyes, imagining all the magical pots dropping to the floor and spoons stopping their stirring, Molly walking in and wondering how you were so incompetent that you would never be able to cook and therefore would be a horrible wife to her son.

You’re only snapped out of your reverie by a flash of light in your eyes, and you tumble back to your current environment— all the dishes are still floating, the spoons were still moving, and Fred was staring at you with a giant grin on his face.

“Hi Freddie!” You light up at the sight of your boyfriend, but don’t allow his attempt at hugging you, too focused on not disappointing your (hopefully) future mother-in-law.

“They’re not gonna stop working unless mom makes them, these things are always going.”

But you refuse to budge, and Molly walks in to see you holding your boyfriend away with one hand on his chest while you continue trying to stir with the other.

She lets out a laugh, telling Fred to leave you alone and go wash up before dinner.

“One kiss? Pleaseeee?” He gives you puppy eyes, and your face goes bright red.

“Not in front of your parents!” You hiss, but he steals a one anyway before running up the stairs and out of the way of the punch you tried to throw at him.

Molly pretends not to have seen, and you let your face cool down before asking what she wants you to do next.

Fifteen minutes later you’re sat at the large table, sandwiched between the twins while Ron talks to you from across the table.

“It was pretty fun, and we all got muggle souvenirs afterward, can you explain to me what this is?” He asks, holding up a PEZ dispenser with a cartoon character head on top.

You laugh, explaining how to get the candy out and watching as a few of the Weasley’s around the table stop to watch, Aurthur positively beaming at the discovery.

“Take a bite before dad can ask you something,” Fred whispers urgently in your ear, and you go to say something back but see Aurthur open his mouth on the other side of the table and you quickly scoop as much pasta into your mouth as you can fit.

You hear Fred laugh at you, and you turn to give him a glare; although it’s less scary due to the copious amounts of noodle hanging out of your mouth.

A flash once again momentarily blinds you, and you finally realize what it is when you see the small Polaroid camera in your boyfriend’s hand.

You go to yell at him, but still have pasta in your mouth so you settle for an angry groan and another smack to his arm.

You watch in horror as a piece of film comes out of the camera, which your boyfriend takes gingerly and looks at expectantly as it develops.

You finally manage to swallow your large bite, and you snatch the photo from his grasp, immediately being greeted by your own face, round with food in your cheeks and wide eyes while strands of pasta hang down your chin and sauce sits on the corners of your mouth.

“Freddie,” you groan in annoyance, but he just takes the photo back from your hands and looks at it proudly.

“It’s a lovely representation of you, darling.”

“It is not!!”

George is laughing too, and you turn back to your plate, trying not to think about the fact that your boyfriend now has two horrible pictures of you for keepsakes.

You try to help clean up after dinner, but Molly insists that someone else does it since you helped cook, so you head upstairs to your boyfriend’s room while Ron and Ginny grumble.

“Evening, love,” Fred greets as you enter the twins’ room.

“Y/n,” George greets as well, tipping his nonexistent hat to you before turning his back to you so he can start a letter to Angelina.

Your boyfriend uses the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, trapping you in his embrace and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you today.” He mumbles into your hair.

“It wasn’t even a full day,” you laugh, the sound muffled by his chest.

He scoffs, sitting down on his bed and pulling you onto his lap.

“So what, I’m not allowed to miss my girl?”

You feel your cheeks warming at the claim of being his, and you give him a teasing smile, “well when you say it like that..”

Before you can even move there’s another flash and you immediately groan, burying your head into the crook of your boyfriend’s neck.

“I’m really starting to resent your dad for getting you that.”

You feel his shoulders shake with laughter, but all he says is “I think it’s my second favorite possession.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, pulling back so he can see it.

“Second favorite?”

“Yep. After these pictures.” He grins, now holding up all three photos he’s taken of you since being home.

“Why can’t you just take pictures like a normal person?” You ask, looking at the two new photos, the one from earlier of you with a wooden spoon in your hand and eyes looking around while bowls float around your head, and the newest one of you sat on Fred’s legs with pink cheeks and a grin on your face.

“Normal people don’t get to keep your happy face in their pockets though, now do they?”

You watch as he puts the photos back, and you melt at the thought of your boyfriend wanting to document your joy to keep as his own.

“I’m always wearing my happy face when I’m around you, Freddie.”

He grins (ignoring George’s gagging) and pulls you down onto his bed, smothering you in kisses until he can no longer keep himself up and your face is brighter than his hair.

“Guess I’ll have to get more film then.”

And he does.

In fact, by the time you get back to Hogwarts from the holidays he’s got a whole wall of polaroids .

You in his Christmas sweater with a proud smile on your face and an F across your chest, you being squeezed by his mother in the worlds tightest hug, you on a broom in his backyard and a quaffle in your arms, you asleep on his bed, even one of you puckering up as if to give the camera a kiss.

And no matter how many times he looks at them, Fred still stares at the photos with a lovesick smile on his face, absolutely in awe at the ability to capture pictures that are so you, so full of light and love that he feels like the luckiest man on Earth to get to be yours.

[highvern]

YUCK

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive moments

warnings: mentions of illness/body fluids (snot, vomit), avoidant attachment from reader, Hoshi best boy

Length: ~2.9k

Note: more of this couples bc im crazy thank u @gyuswhore

series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], Talk [a, s, f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Two and a half months of hooking up with a guy who may or may not be a furry and things start feeling…comfortable. 

You’ll pretend until the day you die that every time the weekend rolls around you won’t end up naked in Soonyoung’s bed. Or your own. Usually it is your own because he has more roommates than you and yours leaves to stay at her boyfriend’s until Monday night which means there is no need to keep quiet (which you and Soonyoung both struggle with but you refuse to acknowledge that fact). 

It allows for many nights bent over the kitchen counter, Soonyoung’s chest hot against the back of your thighs as he works you up with his mouth. Or occasional nights on the couch after you both are too into each other to make it upstairs to your room, planted firmly in his lap while pinning his hands to the cushions. There's also the nights he drags you straight to bed and demonstrates exactly what all the pictures you took while tucked away in the privacy of a gross bar bathroom did to him. 

You’re pretty sure Soonyoung has picked up on your game by now because instead of asking ‘if’ he’s taken to asking ‘when’ he can come over. And it's annoying that it doesn’t really annoy you at all.

Soonyoung comes over on Friday nights and leaves Saturday afternoon, except when he shows up on Saturday mornings and stays well into Sunday night. Or the occasional weekend where you remember who you are and show up on his door and leave three hours later with cum still drying on your thigh as you walk past his roommates still pregaming in the living room.

Except now it's Friday and you’ve got nothing on your mind except for the inside of a toilet bowl and the cool tile of the bathroom floor.

Call it food poisoning or maybe the flu, but you’ve been in and out of sleep since the early hours of dawn. Shivering on the floor, the only company you have is a pile of dirty clothes. Even the crack of light under the door is too much stimulation for your illness-racked brain to tolerate.

“Y/N?” your roommate calls from the other side of the darkness, out in the hallway where it's safe from whatever curse is making home in your gut. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home? I don’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” you groan. Your words couldn’t convince the deaf but you try anyway. 

She responds but it slips right past because another bout of nausea takes hold.

You manage to fall asleep at some point, clammy on the floor with aching hips. Maybe an hour or maybe ten minutes. It doesn't really make a difference because you still feel like shit when the door opens and the hall light burns through your retinas.

“Hazel, I said I’m— What are you doing here?” you croak from the floor. 

Soonyoung stairs down at you, face soft with something that might be worry but it’s probably just the fever melting your brain. “You look like shit.” 

“You always know just what to say.” The usual snark isn’t there, replaced by a pathetic helpless whine of discomfort because all you want is to curl up and die. “Did you come to insult me or…?”

“Hazel let me know you were sick and usually sick people need medicine and soup so I brought that and this tea my mom used to give me as a kid.” 

“Are you trying to cure me so you can get your dick wet?” 

“No. If I wanted to stick my dick in a Petri dish I feel like there are easier ways to go about it.” He kneels right next to you like he isn’t the slightest bit concerned about catching the plague brewing in your immune system. A cool hand cups your cheek, thumb gentle at your temple where a dull throb has haunted you all day. You lean into the comforting touch without much thought.  “When was the last time you showered?” 

“I don’t know. Like two days ago?” 

“Yeah, I can smell that. Alright my little germ cell, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

His arms snake under yours, dragging you from the floor even with your muscles limp. It takes more maneuvering but you don’t bother helping. If he wants to play not-so-sexy nurse and patient then that's his problem. The warmth of his sweater is welcome though. 

“Is this some weird fetish thing?” Nose buried in Soonyoung’s chest, it comes out in a jumble. “Because I can’t handle this and the furry stuff.” 

“Yes, caring about your health is a fetish for me. Really gets me off knowing you’ve been a good girl and taken your vitamins.” 

“I knew it.” you whisper. “I’m not calling you daddy if that’s what you want.” 

Soonyoung laughs and the movement sends another bolt of pain through your skull. He tuts over your responding whimper and what may be his lips press to the side of your head briefly. It’s warm and comforting, the beat of his heart lulling you into the first satisfying rest since you woke up. Your hands bunching the front of his shirt are desperate for anything to keep you steady. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t release you while setting things up for a shower; accommodating for your weight with a slow shuffle and more placating coos against your hairline every time you protest a sudden jostle. The chill of the bathroom fully sets in when he pushes down your sweats and shucks off your snot stained sweater before tossing away his own. If you weren’t barely functioning it might even be impressive that he’s kept you in his arms the entire time.

“If you’re trying to fuck me, I hope you don’t mind snot.” You blow your nose against the curve of his neck just to be a bitch. 

You feel more naked under the stream of water than you ever have, which is ironic given you’ve had Soonyoung face to crotch more times than you can count. Something about the non-sexual nature of nudeness, feeling the least sexy you ever have while he scrubs you down with gentle hands, turns your stomach more than before.

“I’m not trying to fuck you,” he laughs again; a thousand volts straight to the heart. “Don’t worry.” 

You pop out of hiding, hurt by the idea. “You don’t want to fuck me?” 

Soonyoung’s face is soft, cheeks round and hair already damp to his forehead. He isn’t disgusted by the puke on your breath or the sweat matting your hair. Or if he is, he hides it well. “I always want to fuck you but right now I’m trying to make sure you don’t die.” 

You dive back into his shoulder, mind numb to anything beyond the silky feel of hands washing away days of ick. You’ve felt his hands on almost every part of your body but right now they lack the characteristic urgency from those moments where you can’t get enough of each other quick enough. He’s touching you the way he does in the glow of the moon after you’ve both been satisfied, when Soonyoung thinks you’re asleep and you let him as every curve and dip and hill of your body is covered in gentle strokes like he’s committing you to memory.

“I can do that on my own,” you argue. 

The facts aren’t stacked in your favor right now but it’s the principle: you don’t need him to take care of you. You can handle it on your own. He’s only here because you let him.

“Oh, I know. Now close your eyes so I don’t get soap in them.”

He cups your face, thumbs rubbing away the sweat that's been caked on since morning. Then it’s a rough washcloth doused in the scent of your face wash but you swat it away in favor of the calluses on his fingers. If you weren’t a dead woman walking he’d never get a chance to be this close. 

How is it more terrifying for someone to wipe away your boogers than let him see you naked multiple times a week? A question knotting your stomach into tight pieces as Soonyoung hums some tune you don’t recognize like he’s more than happy to do so.

Your brain stops working after so long; too exhausted from everything to think more about what this all means. Not even the familiar flat press of his front against yours can incite a response beyond content. All the world shrinks into the pitter patter of the water swirling around the drain, and the parts that are warmed by Soonyoung and the parts that are waiting to be.

When you come back to awareness, the waters off and he is whispering something into your clammy forehead.

“Hmmm?” 

“I said, it’s time to get out.”

More shuffling gets you back into your room where the mattress takes your weight while he digs around for fresh clothes. You roll onto your side, clad in a towel and nothing else, resound to fall asleep then and there.

“Alright, arms up,” he commands. 

You try to pull away, diving back into the pillow soaked from your hair but Soonyoung gets you up at the waist, maneuvering stiff limbs patiently.

“Do you have an armpit fetish too?” you ask with the collar stuck around the top of your head. 

“And you call me a freak?”

Next is pants, and it takes a few tries for you to even consider being helpful. Soonyoung lifts each leg individually, working the fabric as far as he can. Then a few dramatic grunts from coordinating your entire body weight but you’re back in a clean pair of pajamas and tucked under the covers. Soonyoung didn’t rise to any more of your snide remarks about being naked. He simply avoiding your bare skin like it’d burn. Not even his favorite thing about you (boobs) gets any attention, just a few chuckles and more kisses into your temple.

You melt into the plush mattress, hidden beneath a pile of blankets from the cruel world that cursed you with new realizations you're not prepared for just yet. 

Eyes closed the entire time, you hear Soonyoung leave without so much as a goodbye. In theory it’s what you want. Exactly how you prefer; you alone, him somewhere you can pretend all the confounding feelings don’t exist. You didn’t even want him to show up in the first place, but now that he’s been here and you’re horrifically aware how nice it feels to have someone take care of you. You miss him. 

And as soon as the pit opens up, you hear someone shuffling down the hall coming towards your room.

“Alright, once you eat something you can sleep.”

The thought of food tightens your stomach more than the fact he didn’t leave you but he’s right. You need fluids and you’re not strong willed enough to get them yourself.

After the first few bites, you feel a little more human and less like a walking sack of shit. With it, the discomfort of this entire ordeal rears with a new vengeance. 

“Why are you here?” It sounds like an accusation.

He doesn’t even miss a beat. “Because I like you.” 

Soonyoung says it matter of factly, the same way the sky is blue and water is wet, while shoving another bite into your mouth.

You’re too exhausted for a fight right now; not with the only person making a real effort to keep you alive, but the instinct is strong after years of low expectations and plenty of disappointment.

“Why?” 

“Because I just do.” 

Your eyes meet over the spoon. He doesn’t look annoyed or perturbed or even angry. He likes you whether you like it or not. 

“I don’t date.” 

“Okay,” he agrees, wiping at the spill dripping from your chin.

“You aren’t gonna argue?” 

“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ and your need for confrontation with it. “You don’t wanna date? That’s fine. I’ll take whatever I can get, even if that’s spoon feeding you on your deathbed.” 

You take the next bite before commenting, “You’re so weird.” 

“I like you too. Now open up for the airplane.” He makes the noise and the medicine twists your brain into actually finding it funny. “How are you pretty even when you’re blowing your nose on my shirt?”

“Deal with the devil.”

He passes you a cold cup when you brush away the remainder of the soup. One sip is all it takes.

“How did you know I like the orange Gatorade?”

“I asked Jun to give me June’s number and she gave me Hazel’s number and I asked while I was at the store.”

“You went through all that trouble just to buy me the right Gatorade?” you snort.

“It really wasn’t any trouble.”

It isn’t but it’s more than anyone else has ever done for you. The fresh wave of nausea has nothing to do with your cold.

“I’m tired,” you tell him. 

The mess is cleaned up in silence. You pretend to fall asleep and Soonyoung lets you until he’s shoving more medicine your way. 

You shake your head, failing to refuse because Soonyoung is doing that dumb airplane nose again and when you cough up a laugh he shoves the spoon in your mouth and you’re left with no choice but to swallow.

Then he’s up and you watch through heavy eyes as he gathers his things. You’ll blame it on the drugs loosening the clutch you have on your emotions later.

“Where are you going?” you ask with faux apathy, negated by the fist tangled in the hem of his sweatshirt in case he evaporates away.

“Home. Unless…you want me to stay?” A tug at the sweater is your answer to that horrible thought. “Oh, thank god – I was getting sad.”

You roll over, offering him your back to curl around. The muscles tensed around your spine soften when he does. 

I sleep better when you’re here.

You won’t tell him that but Soonyoung stiffens for a moment and the fear you’ve said the wrong thing creeps in where fatigue hasn’t rooted just yet. But a kiss to your covered shoulder and a hand under your sweater, flat against your stomach so you stay as close as possible calms the thoughts enough you can drift off.

It’s strange. Having the heat of his body at your back without the limpness of a good fuck still coursing through your veins to thaw the parts that hate pillow talk and the stickiness that come with it.

What's even stranger is that you don’t really mind it all. If anything, it’s actually pretty nice.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie

@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire

@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes

@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[thunderbump]

Home school Home birth

Note: this is the first story to be written based on an idea i was sent! If you anyone has anymore no guarantee I’ll do them but feel free to send me them!

Emma sat perched on her birthing ball, rocking slowly in a rhythmic motion as she tried to ease the relentless pressure in her back. The twins were getting heavier every day, pressing down on her pelvis with an intensity she hadn’t felt with her previous pregnancies. She was enormous now, her belly swollen and round, and every movement felt like an effort. But she tried not to let it show in front of the kids.

Lily and Ben sat at the kitchen table, books and papers spread out before them as they worked through their homeschool lessons. They were so used to this new routine now—Emma managing their schooling while keeping her mind focused on the impending arrival of the twins—that they barely noticed when she winced or shifted uncomfortably. It was just part of the day.

Still, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the act. The twins felt like they were ready to burst out at any moment, and her body was exhausted. She exhaled slowly, adjusting her position on the ball, and glanced at the clock. James wouldn’t be home for several more hours, and she prayed she could make it until then.

“Mom?” Ben called, his small voice cutting through her thoughts. He had abandoned his reading book and was looking at her with those wide, curious eyes that always made her heart melt. “Can you help me find my red dinosaur? I lost it under the couch.”

Emma groaned inwardly. The last thing she wanted to do was crawl around on the floor right now, but Ben was already sliding off his chair, hopeful.

“Sweetheart,” she began, her voice tired, “I’m not sure I can get down there right now. Can you check for it yourself?”

Ben’s face fell. “But I can’t reach. Please, Mom?”

She sighed, rubbing her belly. “Alright, let me try.” Slowly, Emma rolled off the birthing ball, her body protesting every inch of the way. As soon as she stood, the weight of the twins bore down on her pelvis like a leaden mass. She huffed out a breath and waddled over to the couch, trying to ignore how tight her belly was feeling.

She crouched awkwardly, wincing as she knelt down to peer under the couch. A sharp pain radiated through her lower back, and she had to pause to catch her breath. The twins shifted inside her, as if reminding her of just how little space they had left. “Ben, I don’t see it,” she said, her voice strained as she struggled to reach under the couch.

Ben dropped to his knees next to her, his little hand pointing excitedly. “It’s right there, see? Just a little further back.”

Emma gritted her teeth, stretching her arm as far as she could manage. Her belly pressed uncomfortably against the edge of the couch, and she could feel sweat beading on her forehead from the effort. Finally, her fingers grazed the toy’s plastic edge, and she managed to pull it out, handing it over to Ben with a triumphant, if tired, smile.

“Got it!” she said, though her voice lacked the enthusiasm she was hoping for.

Ben’s face lit up, and he grabbed the toy, running off with a shout of “Thanks, Mom!” Emma sat back on her heels, trying to gather the energy to stand. Just as she was about to push herself up, another voice called out.

“Mom!” Lily piped up from the kitchen. “Can you help me with this math problem? I don’t understand it.”

Emma groaned softly, her hands pressing against the couch as she tried to haul herself up. Everything hurt, and the pressure in her pelvis was becoming impossible to ignore. She managed to rise, though her legs felt shaky beneath her.

“Coming, Lily,” she said, forcing herself to waddle over to the kitchen table. As soon as she sat down, she felt another tight cramp ripple through her belly. She took a deep breath, brushing it off as just another one of those Braxton Hicks contractions she’d been having for weeks. They’d come and go, teasing her, but never progressing into real labor. Still, something about today felt different.

Lily slid her workbook over, her finger pointing to a math problem. “I don’t get it. Can you explain it again?”

Emma leaned in to read the question, but as she did, another sharp tightening gripped her belly. This time, she couldn’t ignore it. She closed her eyes for a second, her hand instinctively moving to her stomach as she tried to breathe through the discomfort.

“Mom?” Lily’s voice cut through the fog of pain. “Are you okay?”

Emma opened her eyes, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, honey. Just a little… twinge. What’s the question again?”

Lily frowned but didn’t press. She pointed to the problem again, and Emma did her best to explain, though the words felt thick in her mouth. Another wave of pressure hit her lower back, and she shifted uncomfortably in the chair, trying to find a position that didn’t make her feel like she was being split in two.

“Mom, can we have a snack?” Ben called from across the room, his little dinosaur clutched in his hand.

Emma blinked, trying to focus. “Sure, buddy. Give me a second.”

She started to push herself up, but halfway to standing, she froze. A sudden, deep pop echoed inside her, like a water balloon bursting, followed by an unmistakable gush of warmth that soaked through her leggings and spilled onto the floor beneath her. Her water had broken.

For a moment, she just stood there, stunned, staring at the puddle on the floor. Her heart raced as she tried to process what was happening. No, no, no… it was too soon.

“Mom?” Lily’s voice was small, her eyes wide as she took in the sight. “What just happened?”

Emma blinked, snapping out of her daze. “My water just broke,” she said, her voice shaky. The reality of the situation hit her hard. The twins were coming. Now.

Ben ran over, his eyes bright with concern. “Mommy, are you alright?”

Emma took a shaky breath and forced a smile. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Just a little surprised, that’s all.” She grabbed the back of a chair, steadying herself as a contraction rolled through her, much stronger than the ones she’d felt earlier. “Okay, kids, listen to me,” she said, her voice firm despite the pain. “I need you to help me, alright?”

Lily was already by her side, her small hand on Emma’s arm. “What do you need, Mom?”

“Lily, can you get me my phone from the counter?” Emma said, her breath coming in short bursts as another contraction tightened her belly. Lily ran off to grab it, while Emma turned to Ben. “Ben, can you get some towels from the bathroom and bring them here?”

Ben nodded and darted toward the hallway, leaving Emma standing in the kitchen, gripping the chair as another wave of pain overtook her. The contractions were coming fast now, and she knew she didn’t have much time. Her hands trembled as she tried to breathe through the pain, focusing on keeping calm for the kids.

Lily returned with the phone, and Emma quickly dialed James’s number, her fingers shaking as she pressed the buttons. The phone rang once, twice, and then James’s voice came through the line.

“Hey, babe! How’s it going?”

“James,” Emma gasped, “my water just broke. I think I’m in labor.”

There was a pause, followed by the sound of James’s chair scraping across the floor. “What? Now? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Emma said, her voice tight with pain. “The contractions are really strong. You need to come home. Now.”

“I’m leaving right now,” James said, his voice urgent. “I’ll call an ambulance, just in case. Hang in there, Em. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Emma ended the call just as Ben ran back into the room, his arms full of towels. He looked at the puddle on the floor and back at his mom, his eyes wide with curiosity. “Is it time for the babies to come out?”

“Yes, Ben,” Emma said, her voice trembling as another contraction gripped her. “It’s time.”

She moved toward the couch, trying to lower herself onto the towels that Ben had spread out, but her legs were shaking so badly that she could barely stand. The pressure in her pelvis was unbearable, and she knew that the twins weren’t going to wait much longer.

Lily stood by her side, her hand clutching Emma’s arm.

Emma clutched the back of the couch, her body trembling as the contractions came one after another, with barely any time to rest in between. The pressure was overwhelming, and she knew they weren’t going to make it to the hospital.

Emma leaned heavily against the couch, each contraction washing over her like a tidal wave, relentless and intense. She could feel the pressure building, and with each wave, the reality of the situation sank in deeper. There was no way they would make it to the hospital in time.

“Mommy, what’s happening?” Ben’s small voice trembled with worry as he watched her.

“It’s okay, Ben. Just breathe with me, alright?” Emma gasped, trying to find some semblance of calm amidst the chaos. She could see Lily’s concerned face as she moved closer, her eyes wide with fear.

“What can we do to help?” Lily asked, her voice steadying as she took on a role of determination.

Emma swallowed hard. “Just stay close and listen to me.” She gripped the edge of the couch tightly, feeling another contraction hit her. “I need you both to be brave. This is going to happen here, but we can do this together.”

“Okay, Mommy,” Ben said, his little fists clenched as he tried to appear strong.

As another contraction surged through her, Emma let out a low groan, her body tensing. “Kids, I need you to find some more towels and a blanket. We’re going to need them.”

Lily nodded and darted to the bathroom, while Ben ran to grab a blanket from the living room. Emma breathed through the pain, her vision narrowing as she focused on the task ahead. She could feel the twins shifting inside her, and it was a strange mix of anticipation and fear.

“Here, Mommy!” Lily returned with a pile of towels, her small face flushed with effort.

“Thank you, sweetie. Just lay them down here on the floor,” Emma instructed, pointing to the space beside the couch.

Ben hurried back with the blanket, his face a mix of excitement and worry. “I got it, Mommy!” he said, laying it down with exaggerated care.

“Perfect. Now I need you both to stay right here and hold my hand, okay?” Emma said, her voice firm as she felt another wave of pressure build.

“Okay, Mommy,” they chorused, taking their places beside her.

Emma leaned back against the couch, panting as the next contraction hit her. She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. “You can do this, Emma,” she whispered to herself, though the doubt crept in.

“Mommy, are you alright?” Ben asked again, his small hand gripping hers tightly.

“I’m alright, honey. Just a little more pressure,” she replied, forcing a smile.

Suddenly, she felt an intense urge to push, one that she couldn't ignore. “Kids, I need you to stay close and help me. I need you to support me.”

“Okay!” Lily said, her voice filled with determination.

Emma's body began to tense up again, and she grunted, the sound escaping her lips involuntarily. “Ohh… oh God,” she moaned, feeling the pressure build inside her.

“Mommy!” Ben exclaimed, his eyes wide as he watched her. “Are you okay? You sound… different!”

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Just working hard,” Emma replied through gritted teeth, sweat beading on her forehead.

“Do you want me to get you some water?” Lily offered, her eyes darting around as if searching for anything to help.

“No, honey, I just need to breathe,” Emma said, her breath coming in quick, short gasps. With each contraction, she let out a low groan, feeling the unmistakable urge to push intensify. “Ohh, I can feel them coming, I can feel them!”

“Mommy, are you gonna be okay?” Ben asked, worry lacing his voice.

“I will be, baby, I promise,” Emma managed to say before another contraction hit, and she let out a loud groan, her body shaking with effort. “Ahhh… it’s happening!”

“Mommy!” Lily said, gripping Emma’s arm tighter. “You’re doing it! You can do it!”

Emma focused on her children, their encouragement giving her strength. She felt the incredible pressure building, followed by a rush of warmth as she welcomed the first twin into the world.

“It’s a baby!” she gasped, tears of relief and joy streaming down her cheeks as she caught sight of her newborn.

“Is it a girl?” Ben asked, peering closely, excitement mingling with awe.

“Yes! It’s a girl!” Emma exclaimed, cradling her daughter carefully in her arms as the baby let out a soft cry.

“Mommy, you did it!” Ben cheered, his innocent excitement mingling with concern.

“We helped, too!” Lily added, her face beaming with pride.

Emma smiled, tears of joy spilling down her face as she looked at her children, who had been her rock through this incredible moment. “Yes, you did! I couldn’t have done it without you.”

But she wasn’t done yet. As the reality set in, another wave of pressure came, and Emma prepared herself for the second twin. “Ohh… here we go again!” she groaned, feeling the contractions surge through her body once more.

“Come on, Mommy! You can do it!” Ben encouraged, his small fists clenching with anticipation.

“Keep going, Mommy!” Lily echoed, her eyes fixed on Emma, filled with admiration and worry.

With determination, Emma pushed again, feeling the familiar sensation of movement within her, and with a final, powerful effort, she welcomed the second baby into the world, this one a boy.

“It’s a boy!” she gasped, cradling both babies in her arms as they cried softly.

“Mommy, you really did it!” Ben exclaimed, jumping up and down in pure joy.

“We helped!” Lily added, her face aglow with excitement.

Emma looked down at her newborns, panting as she reveled in the moment. “Welcome to the world, little ones,” she whispered, holding her babies close as her children beamed with pride.

Just then, Emma heard the distant sound of sirens approaching. Relief washed over her, knowing that James was finally on his way. But in that moment, surrounded by her two eldest and the two new lives she had just brought into the world, she felt a warmth in her heart that she had never known before.

[lnfours]

lando looking after reader when she wakes up at 3am with a stomach bug and he’s being super gentle with her as if she’s made of glass

lando is the softest bf ever i don’t make the rules !!

lando brainrot? lando brainrot.

you were woken out of your sleep with an insane wave of nausea, kicking the covers off and rushing your way into the bathroom. lando had woken up from the bed rustling and the light from the connected bathroom flooding into the room. he squinted in the bright light, finding you on the bathroom floor with your head resting on the toilet.

he kneeled down next to you, brushing the strands of hair from your sweaty forehead, “not feeling any better?”

you shook your head, “i feel worse.”

he frowned, you had felt sick since the night before and you had spent most of the day in bed. you had been taking medicine every time it was time for a new dosage, but no improvements. he had managed to run to the store during one of your off and on again naps, grabbing all the things his mom used to get him when he was sick.

he could tell you were tired from the constant waking up. he could tell you were uncomfortable, the pain visible on your face as your stomach felt like it was being turned inside out. everything hurt, your head, your muscles, your stomach, your throat. everything.

he played with your hair gently, “do you wanna come back to bed?”

you hummed, nodding sleepily. he gently picked you up from the floor, letting you cling to him in your arms as you nuzzled into the material of his shirt. he turned the light off on the way back into the bedroom, gently putting you back onto the mattress. he looked over at the clock, 3am. it had been a while since you took your medicine.

“i’m gonna grab the medicine from the kitchen, i’ll be right back.”

you nodded at him, letting go of his hand as he made his way to the other side of the apartment. you heard him rustling around in the kitchen until the bed dipped down beside you. he tapped your thigh softly, making you groan as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“c’mon, honey,” he said, “we can go back to sleep after you take this, i promise.”

you grabbed the pills and the glass of water from him, taking it before letting him grab the glass from your hands. he placed it down on the nightstand, climbing into the bed next to your shivering figure before he tucked the blankets around you.

“cmere,” he pulled you into his arms. you let him, feeling him press a kiss to your temple as you got comfortable.

“thank you for taking care of me.”

he smiled, brushing the hair away from your face as you stared to fall back to sleep, “always.”

[bunnyhugs77]

Honey I'm Home

୨୧- Just a little slice of life of a hard working dad, his tired wife and their twin girls.

୨୧ WC: 900

Jungkook pushes open the door to your small two-bedroom flat, his keys jingling in the door which attracted the two little girls on the other side to come running instantly.

The soft patter of their socked feet hitting the wooden floors as they rushed to his as fast as they could. "Daddy!" The girls squealed. Jungkook crouched down, his once drained expression replaced with one full of delight.

"Girls!" He exclaims, taking the both of them in each of his arms, listening to their adorable laughter as he engulfed them into his tight embrace. "Daddy! Can't breathe!" Aria squeaks from where her head rested against his chest. Always the dramatic one of the two.

Jungkook laughs, apologizing and letting them go. Aria runs back to the kitchen where he could only assume the source of that flavourful scent was coming from. Meanwhile Hye-Ji stayed back to show him the flowers she'd picked just for him.

"Are these for me?" Bending at the waist to collect the crushed dandelions that were once in the grip of her fist. She nods with the brightest smile he's ever seen.

Picking her up as well, letting her rest on his side with one hand, careful not to ruffle the very elaborate princess dress she was wearing as he finally begins to make his way to the kitchen. "Thank you so much princess, I'll make sure to add this to my collection." He places a kiss to the crown of her head.

There you were. His eyes seemed to soften once they landed on you. In a button up and your favourite pair of mom jeans." Hi baby," He gets the chance to peck your lips briefly before Hye-Ji was asking to be put down.

She quickly ran off to her sister in the living room where there were colouring pages ripped out, building blocks all over the place, a box of crayons in the laundry bin full of clothes that were waiting to be folded.

"Hi." You manage a smile before resuming your blank stare into the pot of tomato sauce for the spaghetti that you'd been stirring for god knows how long. "Is everything okay?" Disregarding your mundane 'yeah' he know something is up.

"Honey, what's wrong? Talk to me." You sigh, dropping your shoulders, finally looking at him. He was in his typical work-wear for his day job as a private banker meanwhile he works part-time nights as a mail courier.

"Today was a bad day." Letting your head fall into your husband's firm chest in defeat. His hands raised to hold you in his arms the same way the have been for the last 5 years.

The shiny silver band of his wedding ring catching the light for a moment as he gently rubbed your back. "You wanna talk about it?"

You pout softly, "There's nothing to say, look at the state of the house. Hye-Ji turned the house upside down looking for her dress this morning. Then I took them to the grocery store and Aria got lost." Jungkook's eyebrows raise, but you weren't done.

"I finally got them to sleep for an hour while I did some laundry, and then I ended up falling asleep myself, waking up to crayons and toys everywhere, and Hye-Ji was crying because she missed you and then I started crying because I missed you too and-"

You couldn't believe this was making you tear up. The day was hectic and the fact you'd have to do it all over again tomorrow. Jungkook hushes you in a comforting manner, practically swaddling you in his arms. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here," you sniffle, stepping back.

"It's not your fault. You work two jobs. it's just hard sometimes." You admit and Jungkook gets an idea. "Go." He says and your brow arches, "I'll finish dinner, and take care of the girls. Go rest, or read that Jasper Wilde book you've been wanting to read. Please. Let me help, you deserve it." He pecks your forehead and you weren't going to fight him on it.

Leaving the kitchen and the responsibilities to him. Telling yourself that it would only be a thirty minute nap but it turned into 2 hours. By the time you walked back into the kitchen, it looked like you'd walked into a whole new house.

Everything was neat and tidy, the girls were sitting on the ground with a bowl of abandoned grapes shared between them as they watched Moana with an entranced gaze.

The laundry basket was gone, the floors were clean and the air smelled of soft fresh linens and cinnamon. Looking back to the kitchen where Jungkook quietly tidied up, humming softly to himself. You stood hidden from where you were admiring your little family.

You may not have had much but you had everything you needed right here. "You're amazing you know that?" Jungkook says as you approached him. "I should be saying that to you." You counter.

"No. I mean it, Y/n. Having two jobs is easy, but doing what you do everyday is a job for a saint. I appreciate everything you do for us, I love you so much." His lips pressing against your forehead while your heart felt so full of love. "I love you." You say.

"I have to potty!" Aria declares and the both of you look at each other.

"Not it."

"Not it."

[nixie-writes]

Hi! I always wondered, how would hazbin hotel characters react to an nurturing reader? Like full parent mode and doting on everyone, Charlie is like 200 years old?? Who cares her hair is a mess and she hasn't had breakfast! Alastor would silently relish in it, I'm not sure about the rest.. - what do you think??

-everyone would react a little differently to a nurturing, parent like figure.

-Charlie finds it endearing but a little on the heavy side. There are days she doesn't want to put in the effort to fix her hair, or really do anything. So when you swoop in to help her get ready for the day, she appreciates it, but finds it a tad overbearing.

-Vaggie is already practically the mom of this establishment, but she doesn't mind extra help. You and her can trade who deals with who each day. Maybe on Monday she deals with Husk and Niffty while she handles Sir Pentious and Angel Dust, and you swap places the next day. She finds it refreshing.

-Niffty loves the extra help in the kitchen and cleaning. If she has more time to focus on that rather than keeping the gentlemen and ladies together, she's all for it. However, when you got onto her for neglecting herself and not eating breakfast she starts bawling until you give her a pancake and tell her to do better, and she nods her head.

-Angel Dust feels like he doesn't need a parental figure, in his opinion they all suck. Then again, his only experience is his father and he was a shit pie. So when you start offering him snacks during the day and tease his hair a little to be more stylish he decides some parental company can be beneficial and helpful, and even caring.

-Husk is an old drunk, he feels like he can manage himself. When he wakes up on the kitchen floor with you spraying him with a water bottle he realizes he may need some help. You set a bedtime schedule, you schedule when he's allowed to drink and you help him find his way to bed at night. He may not remember much, but he appreciates that you're doing your best for him.

-Alastor both likes and hates having a parental figure around. On one hand, you keep down the trouble and help around, meaning he has more time to sit and plan his next move. On the other hand you're dumping a bottle of warm water on him and demanding he shower because he smells like a garbage can and probably crawled out of one. He finds your antics silly, but he knows when he sees someone he can potentially make a deal with.

[cottonlemonade]

Atsumu’s New Girlfriend

word count: 656 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Atsumu x chubby!Reader (feat. MSBY)

genre: fluff, crack, established relationship

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: Atsumu’s team doubts your existence

It wasn’t news to anyone that Atsumu came to work with a superior smirk and a not-so-humble brag on his lips but recently it seemed to have increased exponentially. Without much, or really any, resistance, he happily told his teammates that he went and got himself a girlfriend and would not stop talking about how great you were. From all the stories his friends had heard by now you were stunning, smart, beautiful, kind, gorgeous, got along great with his mom, and laughed at all his jokes. That alone gave them all reason to believe that you were entirely made up.

But one day they went to talk with their PR manager, going over contracts for a new brand deal and as they waited for the elevator Atsumu suddenly pointed to a framed newspaper article and called, “Hey! That’s my girlfriend!”

Curious despite their better judgment, the team crowded around the article and studied the group photo at the top. Sakusa didn’t waste any time and pointed to a trash can that was somewhat off in the background. “That one?”

He easily dodged the slap on the shoulder that would have earned him.

Atsumu grumbled something under his breath and then put his finger to the glass again, pointing to a young woman on the left, dressed in an immaculately tailored pantsuit that sat perfectly on your curves, a confident smile on your face. Underneath the picture, it listed the names and professions of the five people.

“Lawyer?!”, the others called in unison.

With the smuggest grin anyone had ever worn, Atsumu crossed his arms and nodded.

“Do you know what a lawyer is?”, Sakusa asked with a brow raised in doubt, “Can you even spell it?”

“Hey!”

“Just because you hired her and see her regularly, doesn’t make her your girlfriend.”, Meian added carefully.

“I didn’t hire her. I just talked to her.”,

Sakusa didn’t buy it. “You talked to her? With words? And she liked you?”

“Uh huh, just talked to her like normal.” The setter shrugged.

“Yeah, but you opening your mouth is usually where it ends.”, Bokuto said sheepishly.

“Maybe she isn’t normal either.”, Sakusa muttered.

“I’m gonna prove it to ya!”, Atsumu called, a very prominent blush on his face, “She is at my place right now waiting for me. Let’s all go there!”

“Honey, I’m hooome!”, Atsumu called as soon as he pushed open the front door. He immediately regretted it because he had never done that before but when there was no reply, Hinata, Bokuto, and Sakusa looked at him with pity. The rest of the team, not wanting to add to his probable humiliation, decided to leave it to his friends to tease him.

“She must be in the kitchen and can’t hear. She likes to listen to music.”, Atsumu explained as he kicked off his shoes, in a tone that sounded as if listening to music while cooking was somehow the quirkiest thing ever.

And truly, now that he said it, faint music was heard, coming from a room at the far end of the entryway. Atsumu half jogged, half slid with his socks on the wooden floor, and opened the door in question. The others followed.

There you were, in an untucked blouse over pinstripe dress pants with a makeshift apron - a dish towel tucked into the collar - offering a (loud and) highly emotional rendition of the Spirit soundtrack as you stirred something that smelled absolutely heavenly on the stove. The three guests let out a long “Ohhhhh” in understanding, then continued to watch for a few stunned moments, before Atsumu broke from the group.

“Hey babe.”, he purred and shuffled over to hug and kiss you Hello.

You wiped the tears the song had brought to your eyes away and looked past him to his friends, not a singular ounce of embarrassment on your face, you said, “I definitely didn’t make enough for all y’all.”

art: @_hermoon on Twitter

a/n: Just something silly. Also, Spirit is a phenomenal movie and never fails to make me cry!

brainstorm powered by @haikyu-mp4

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part six | chapter list

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

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

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

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

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

You're not there, to his surprise. 

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

"Sweetheart, you in there?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where's mom?" he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Just tired," you mumble.

You close your eyes and cover them with one hand. 

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

A little shimmer of pride brims at the realisation. 

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not sleeping," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's human," he corrects lightly. 

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

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

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

"Do you want me to–" 

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello," he says. 

"Hi, baby," you say, shy even now. 

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

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

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

"Movie night is–" 

"Not a special occasion."

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tada!" he says. "Let's get eating." 

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

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

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

"Don't," he says gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Good. Our soup is getting cold." 

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

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

Eddie thumbs hair out of her face and smiles. 

"She could probably eat more." 

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

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

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

No, you'd said quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," you say immediately. 

"Not a sugarpea fan?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Bernard," he repeats menacingly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Davey's a grumpy regular. He never tips. 

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

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

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

"Am not!" you protest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do I have a lock? Maybe."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pinch his thigh. "Lay off." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're sniffing me," you murmur. 

"You smell nice," he murmurs back. 

"You smell nice, too." 

"I smell like sweat." 

"A little." 

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

"Sorry," you say, rather shyly. 

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

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

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

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

"Yes. Definitely banned around my daughter." 

He snorts. "Like it's a curse word." 

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

"I'm so happy," you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Then so be it, my liege." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm glad you like it, junebug." 

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

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

"Thank you," Junie says. 

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

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

He takes your face into both hands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gives your cheek a good rub with his thumb. 

"Thank you," you say. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

"Too hot." 

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

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

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

"Do you want another drink?" you ask. 

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

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

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

"You didn't eat much," he says. 

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

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

"Really?" you ask. 

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

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

"It's not dangerous." 

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

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

"I'm not eating Wayne's cheese." 

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

You slip your hand behind his back and squeeze. 

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

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

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

"What, no, ta-da? No kiss?" you ask. 

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

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

"Do you want half?" you ask. 

"No, you eat that whole thing." 

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

"I've been busy," you defend. 

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

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

"Did you, sweetheart? Honestly?" 

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

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

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

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

"Promise?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie pulls you into his lap properly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought you were awake," he says. 

"I'm not." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want mommy," she murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looks like you.

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

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

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

Junie smiles at you. 

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

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

"You think I'm pretty?" you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you," she says back. 

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

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

"Yeah?" 

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

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

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

"I got you," you tease. 

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

"I do, I have you!" 

"It tickles a lot!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We've been asking," Robin says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rob," Steve says.

"What?" Robin asks. 

"You can't say that." 

"Mom," Junie says. 

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

"Where's Eddie?" she asks. 

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

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

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

"With me," she says. 

You grin. "Exactly." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, doofus," Robin says. 

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

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

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

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

"How come?" you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's hard work," Eddie says. 

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

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

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

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

"Do you wanna play?" Eddie asks her. 

Junie shrugs. "With you?" 

"Yeah, with me." 

She looks at Robin. "Play?" 

"Sure," Robin says. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

"Hi, handsome." 

"Hi. She's sleeping?" 

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

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

"That's my bad." 

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

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

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

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

"I'll get you new jeans." 

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

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

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

"Do you think they liked me?" 

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

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

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

"He's jealous." 

"He's not jealous," you say fondly. 

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

"Don't flirt with me." 

"I can't stop." 

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

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

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

"Tell me," you say. 

"No, it's nothing." 

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N?" 

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

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

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

"You and me." 

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

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

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

"Maybe I'll call. Cancel." 

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?" 

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

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

They're constant when he's with you. 

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

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

"I think so, too," you say.

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

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

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

"Do I smell?" 

"Kind of," you say. 

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

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

"Maybe. Maybe not." 

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie pulls himself out of your arms reluctantly. 

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

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

"Lock it." 

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

"Buy one." Wayne shrugs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You still could." 

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

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

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

"Not that soon." 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your nose stings. 

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

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

"Your nose?" she says. 

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

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

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

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

"No…" She sniffles. 

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

You bend down for her. 

"Kiss?" you ask. 

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

"Thank you." 

"You'w welcome," she mumbles. 

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

She looks like she might grizzle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He tries the handle. 

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

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

"Holy shit, what's wrong?" he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

"It's nothing," you say. 

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

"It looks like something," he whispers. 

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

"I'm fine." 

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

"I don't know.” You sniffle.

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

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

"No." 

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

"Yes, please." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You choke on a laugh. 

He doubles down. 

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

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

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

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

"I got mad at her." 

He hums. "Yeah?" 

"I didn't mean to, but she hit me." 

"What?" 

"By accident." 

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

"My nose," you admit. 

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

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

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

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

"Rosemary toothpaste?" 

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

"What did you do to make him mad?" 

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

"All of them?" 

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

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

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

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

“You know you're allowed though?”

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

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

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

“I'm going to say something.”

“Oh no.”

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

You sit back. His hands fall to your hips. 

“Sorry?” you ask. 

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

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

“Oh really?” you ask. 

His skin turns ashen. “Um–”

“I'm kidding,” you say.

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

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

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

“Is this awkward?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I really am sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being a loser.” You laugh wetly. 

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

“That feels nice.”

“Do you have any aches?”

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

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

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

“That is exactly why.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And that couldn't wait until tomorrow?”

Eddie glares at you, “No?”

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

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

—

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

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

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

“Sounds expensive,” you say gently. 

“So?”

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

“You okay, baby?” you ask her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t listen to stinky,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She makes a sound of delight. “Up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. 

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

“One track mind,” Eddie says. 

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

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

“Shut up,” you say happily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, I just know I am…" 

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

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

"This sucks." 

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

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

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

"She won't, though." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pool?" Junie asks. 

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

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

"Shit," he says. 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Looking good," Wayne says. 

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

"You think so?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know you weren't sure. At first." 

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

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

"I get it," Eddie says, and he does. 

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

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

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

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

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

"How do you feel about babysitting?" 

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

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

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

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

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

"She's extremely protective, and you know she doesn't think you're a bad guy, or anything, but she's apprehensive." 

"She'd be silly not to be. Some people are evil." 

Eddie grimaces. "Exactly. But she trusts me and I trust you, so." 

"I'd think you do. Only broke my back–" 

"For the last ten years," Eddie finishes. 

Wayne throws his arm around Eddie's shoulders. "Looking after you, son. God knows I'd do it again… As long as it's alright with Y/N, I'll babysit. But you know there's a ton of kids trying to make a buck around here who'd just love to help out," Wayne says. Eddie must have rubbed off on him or maybe Wayne's the source of all his theatrics; he puts on a hopeful, almost wistful sort of voice as he says it that has Eddie laughing all over again. 

"We'll see. There's no hurry. Just wanna take her out sometimes, she deserves it." 

"She sounds like she's having plenty of fun to me," Wayne says reassuringly. 

You're singing and laughing through the words from the kitchen. You'd told Eddie you're going to give Junie a very intricate hairstyle so she can swim without worrying about washing it, and it's taken you the better part of the hour, yet neither your good mood nor June's has faded. He can see it, you feeding Junie cold cut-up fruit dipped in condensed milk, kissing her cheeks and massaging her scalp as you go. Junie on the counter, as happy as she's ever been. 

"You almost done?" Eddie calls. 

You turn down the music. 

"What?" you ask, pushing the kitchen window open a little further, careful to push aside the shutters just enough to see him, but not let Junie see the backyard. "Oh, hi Mr. Munson, how are you? Can I get you something to drink?" 

"Just here to give some birthday wishes," Wayne says, lifting the bear up. "How are you doing?" 

"I'm awesome," you say brightly.

"You look good." 

Wayne had pulled Eddie aside once, when you'd been dating for two weeks and bumped into him outside of Bradley's, as the fates should have it. He'd looked stern, hand on Eddie's shoulder, and said, "I'm not blaming you, son, but you gotta help her get some rest. Poor girl looks ready to fall over."

Eddie thinks you're pretty even when you're exhausted. In the fullest sense of the word, you meet every definition in his dictionary. You have these eyes that might not pull everyone in but more than hook him, and when you look at him sometimes it's with so much love you're basically an angel. Your smile is beautiful because it's yours. Your voice is lovely because of the words you choose to say, that endless sweetness and softness. He knows you well enough now to realise that there is an end to it in reality. When you're tired or fed up, you can be snappy and blunt and occasionally argumentative, but he likes that. He doesn't want you any other way, 'cos perfect doesn't exist and if it did he'd still end up on your doorstep with a plastic bag in the crook of his elbow, begging for one of those shitty mini pizzas you make and a place at your table. 

You do look well, admittedly and despite your recent bout of restless upset. You had a good night's sleep, and Junie being happy makes you happier. You beam down at them from the window, your eyes sliding to the blown up pool and the mini picnic Eddie's set up.

"Thanks, Mr. Munson. Can I bring her down?" you ask. 

"Absolutely," Eddie says, hand in the air and pulling toward his face, ushering you down, "right now." 

The back door opens and you guide Junie out first. Eddie popped in to give a birthday cuddle and the card he'd picked out, but he hasn't seen Junie since you did her hair, and it looks so nice it melts his heart. She stands in the doorway in her swimming costume, pink and purple and green ombre with frills everywhere, her face slack. 

"Happy birthday!" Eddie says, standing so he can hold out his hand and help her down the stairs. She takes it but doesn't move. "Me and mom know you like your pool so much we wanted to get you another one, do you like it?" 

She starts wiggling, jumping without her feet leaving the floor. She looks at Eddie, at Wayne, at you, at the pool, and a noise starts to brew like the whistle of a saucepan boiling water, the lid skewiff. Eddie grins and waves her hand. 

"It's for you, babe, do you want to get in?" he encourages. 

"With you?" she asks, still wiggling. 

"Maybe later. Do you need help?" 

Junie runs to the edge of the pool, looking over the side that's almost as tall as her and into the water. You already gave him a strict talk about water safety as though for a moment you might not be supervising, loving but resolute that she can't for one single second be unattended or without eyes on her. 

He hadn't been offended, though he did kiss the top of your head and say sarcastically, "Thanks, major, I didn't know that." 

"Jerk," you'd said, earning another kiss. 

Eddie puts his hands under her arms and lifts her up carefully. Her legs curl in toward her stomach like a pill bug. "It might be cold, June, but it's in the sun, so it won't stay cold. Ready?" 

"Yes!" she says. 

Eddie eases her down into the water. She shrieks happily as water covers her toes, her legs, up past her belly button. 

Eddie lets her go and she sits in the water rather than stands. The water reaches her shoulders. She lifts her hands and does a little splash. "It's so big!" she cheers. 

You ease down into a kneel poolside and reach your hand into the water. "And so cold!" you say, looking up at the sky for a moment. "It'll be warmer in no time. Oh, wow, June, there's so much water, you're up to your chin!" 

Junie stands up and runs to the palm tree, giggling. Her attention snags on the slide, and Eddie knows everyone present smiles when she gasps and spins on her heel to you, almost slipping onto her butt. She scrambles up again. "Mommy, it's a slide!" 

"I know! Are you gonna go down? Come here, you have to let me help you up over the side and you can climb up the slide." 

Just when Eddie's starting to think he couldn't like you more, you pull her up against your chest and out of the pool. You don't care that she's soaked. 

"Let's go down the slide!" you say, sounding genuinely excited. 

"Starting to think you should've got a bigger one, kid," Wayne says. 

Eddie snorts and peels off his shirt. "Maybe," he says, shooting Wayne a secret, pleased smile, before rounding the pool. "Babe, you're getting wet, let me have her," he says to you. The daycare kids and their parents should be coming soon. He knows you'll want to look your best. 

"Woah, put your shirt on, Munson, what do you think this is? A GQ shoot?" 

"Like I'm some piece of meat," he murmurs with a smile, failing to help Junie navigate the inflatable steps of the slide. 

You whistle playfully. Wayne howls with laughter. Eddie turns three shades of pink. He blames the sun.

Your teasing ends as soon as it's started. When Junie gets the hang of the slide he dries off and puts his shirt back on, and soon the daycare parents arrive with their tiny charges. They're quick to climb into the pool. Junie is ecstatic beyond words, laughing and giving out dripping hugs to her very favourite friends Adrien and Lucy. Adrien is a sweet, smart toddler. He manages to say, "Happy birthday, Junie!" with a small reminder. 

Junie smiles until her eyes close. "Thanks," she says gleefully. 

You shuffle over to Eddie. "Can you please watch all the babies so I can go get the drinks, please? And say thanks for the gifts?" 

"Please please," he says, squeezing your wrist. "I think there's about seven pairs of eyes on them, but yeah, absolutely. They don't call me Eddie Water Safety Munson for nothing."

You elbow him mildly. 

The only danger Eddie can see is that the kids look like they might have a fight over who gets to use the slide first. There's an impatient four year old called John who feels desperately that he should get to go first, and Lucy, Junie's favourite, does not agree. The birthday girl doesn't seem super interested in the conflict and instead plays with Adrien and a little girl named Matildhe with her rubber duckies, away from the slide. 

"You don't have to stay," Eddie says to Wayne, eyes on Junie's excited chattering. 

"And leave you to entertain the parents? I'm not that cruel." 

Eddie doesn't know most of the parents, having only met Adrien's mom when Junie was having her hugging phase and Eddie went in for emotional support, and John's dad outside of the mechanic where Wayne works, you in the car, Junie on his hip as he dipped in to bring Wayne his forgotten lunch for a late night doing overtime. Junie had recognised John, and so Eddie had been forced to introduce himself. It had been fine, but Eddie would prefer you with him for any future clumsy introductions. 

You come back down with drinks and make parental rounds, thanking each one for the small gifts they've brought. You ask about allergies and nod seriously when one parent says their boy is sensitive to aspartame, before sneaking back to Eddie's side. 

"What's aspartame, handsome? Do you know? I might poison that poor baby from stupidity." 

"It's a sweetener,” he says, "they put it in Jolt Cola. I think they're saying he's hyperactive." 

"Oh, right… is there aspartame in the strawberry juice?" 

"I'd have to check. Want me to take a look?" 

"No, it's okay… I'll just… hold off on it for a minute," you say. You let your weight rest against his side. "This looks amazing. It's amazing. Thank you, Eddie." 

He turns to you and pouts for a kiss. You lean up and give it to him immediately. Eddie doesn't care that there's a crowd of people to watch, he can't not give you a hug. His head locks over your shoulder, and he squeezes you tightly. 

"Don't worry, I'm still watching her," he says before you can wriggle out of his arms. 

"Okay," you say, your face flopped into the juncture of his neck. "Thank you double. I don't deserve you." 

"Yes you do. You deserve a whole lot more," Eddie says, thinking about the houses by the elementary school, and how lonely you can get, and the feeling of your hands as you wash soap suds out of his hair. He hugs you hard and pulls you toward him, your heels lifting off of the ground just slightly. "But this is a start, right?" 

"I wouldn't call this a start," you say, pulling away from him. Your face is lined with affection. “This is better.”

You turn around, sliding firmly under his arm, and scan the pool for your girl. Junie's standing now, offering handfuls of water to Lucy, who takes them and tips them over her head. Every time water runs down her face she laughs, and Junie hurries to get her another handful. 

"I think Steve said he was gonna come by," Eddie says. "That cool?" 

"Sure, the more the merrier. What about Robin?" 

"She can't, she's training the new video store recruit. She said Steve has her gift, though." 

You shake your head and click your tongue, "Tsk, they didn't have to get her anything." 

"They wanted to. Steve actually enjoyed it, I think. He's kind of desperate to be a dad, you know? He's dating this girl from Anderson but she's in college and they're not settling down yet. You know, I never thought that I'd– that I would end up settling down before him." 

"Are you?" you ask softly. 

He's quiet for longer than he means to be, watching as Junie gets her go on the slide. She barrels down into the water and screeches, overjoyed. 

"I'm not asking you to," you say, "I wouldn't ever ask you to, I mean, you don't–" 

"Hey, hey, wait. Wait a second." He tears his gaze from the pool to meet your eyes. "I'm settling down. I am. I want to. I want to be with you, and I want to look after you. I love doing it. This," —he gestures around your backyard— "is what I want. I want a ton of other things and I'm not giving up on them, I wanna make music, and get a job that pays better, but I want to do those things with you. You and Juniper." 

"I'll look after you, too," you say. 

He kisses the skin before your ear. "You already do," he says quietly. 

There's a small gap in your conversation. Eddie takes a sweep of the yard. Wayne looks content if a little bored in the sun, arms crossed across his chest and Teddy bear sat beside him. Junie's talking animatedly from inside of the pool to one of the parents as they rub sun cream into their own child's arms. The stray cat who sometimes sleeps under the porch noses at a half sandwich on the picnic blanket. Eddie's sweating in the heat, and it is so, so loud, but he reckons it's a damn good party. 

You stroke a big wad of curls behind his shoulder, a smaller strand behind his ear. 

"I love you," you say tentatively.

Eddie laughs but closes his mouth, the sound more of a hum, and leans back so you can cup his cheek. "I love you, too," he says, "you know that." He confessed it plainly enough only a week ago, lying in the grass with you, your cheek over his heart.

"Good," you say, looking like you might keel over. "I was really scared to tell you." 

"I was scared to tell you too. That's the fun part, for sure. This is terrifying." 

"Terrifying," you second. 

"And awesome." 

"So awesome," you murmur. 

Eddie peels your hand from his cheek and spins you around. You move slowly but let him do as he pleases. Your lashes kiss in the corners as you smile, as you pause in your spin to squeeze his fingers tenderly. 

"Munson!" Steve calls, though he blinks when he sees the crowd of people he technically works for amassed poolside. He's only been with Cork Kids for a few days. "Oh, hello." 

"Steve!" Junie cries, throwing herself at the wall of the pool. "Hello! Good morning!" 

"Hiya, Junie," he says.

"Good to see you, son," Wayne says, extremely amused. 

"Come swim, Mr. Steve!" one of the kids calls. 

"Gonna save him?" you ask Eddie. 

"Not a chance." 

"Steve!" Junie yells again, "Hello!" 

Steve understands that he's not going to get out of it, clearly, because he crosses the yard and kneels down in the wet grass by the pool. "Hi guys. Are you having fun?" 

The kids all cheer. Steve gets splashed in the process.

— 

Children's birthday parties are much shorter than you thought they'd be. The children, in different states of tiredness, are wrangled into towel ponchos and shepherded into cars, each with a slice of cake wrapped in a paper towel and a heartfelt, "Thank you so much for coming." 

Steve, exhausted, is slumped on the couch in your trailer with a cold can of coke pressed to his forehead and a borrowed pair of Eddie's sweatpants as well as a black and red Metallica shirt that wildy changes the young man's appearance. Junie giggles, sitting with Mr. Munson —call me Wayne, kid, I'm begging you— at the kitchen table. 

"Not like that, Way!" Junie says, trying to coach him through eating a powdered sugar donut. 

"I don't know how else I'm supposed to be eating it." He sounds as adoring of her as you often feel, forgiving her mispronunciation. 

"Babe, where do you want these?" 

You finish the cup you'd been washing and sidle to the back door. Eddie's holding the towels you'd brought out for the parents to sit on. Most are wet from the kids climbing in and out of the pool, and all of them are plastered in grass. 

"Leave them there, I'll put them straight in the washing machine." 

Eddie climbs up the steps, arms full to bursting. "Open the door for me." 

You open the washing machine and Eddie tucks them all inside. Every clean towel you had has been muddied and you wouldn't care, but Eddie looks like he needs a shower, and you probably look similar. You stop him before he can go back outside. 

"What?" he asks.

You twist your hand into his shirt and pull him in. "Two seconds, you have–" You tilt his head to the side and rub at a funny splotch on his cheek. It spreads but doesn't budge. 

"If you lick your thumb, we're breaking up." 

You go on tiptoes. "We can't break up, 'cos you love me," you whisper, not even smug. "And I love you." 

"That's pretty good logic," he says, smirking, "but it won't stop me." 

"Ew," Steve sing-songs, pulling out a chair next to Junie as he cracks open his coke. "That's super gross. And in front of your family. Yuck." 

"We didn't so much as kiss," Eddie says. 

"No, you're just in love. Much worse." 

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls out the last chair. You assume he'll sit, but he backtracks, grabbing you by the shoulders and sitting you down. "Sit," he commands. 

"I don't think I have much choice." 

Junie smiles at you from across the table, changed into dry fleece pyjamas to fight any possible chill. You smile back, propping your chin on your hand. 

Powdered sugar coats her cheeks. "Donut, mommy?" 

"Oh, yes please," you say, holding out your hand.  

She gives you a donut like she's worried you're about to collapse from hunger, nearly catapulting it across the table. You pick it up and take an indulgent bite. 

"Did you want one?" you ask Steve, hand in front of your mouth. 

"I think I've had enough," he says, queasy.

Junie must have force fed him half the cupcake platter. Her viewing him as a nemesis was short-lived. 

"Eddie?" Junie asks. "Donuts." She babbles something indistinguishable. 

"No thanks, junebug." 

Junie hugs the bag of donuts close to her chest, then, seemingly glad that everyone is done sharing. 

"Did you cover the pool?" Wayne asks. 

"Yes sir, no cat claws will be getting at that one." 

"You'd be surprised what you can fix with duct tape," Steve says. 

"Does that really work?" Eddie asks. 

It's sweet seeing Eddie around his friend. You resolve to ask if it can happen more often —even if you're not there to see it, knowing he's having a good time would make you happy. You've been selfish with him since you met him, and you can't say you're too sorry because of how it ended up, but you can try to make up for it now. 

He and Steve get along in a very specific way, wherein Eddie says suggestive things and Steve pretends to hate his guts, and then one or both of them forgets the facade and they talk like normal friends. 

"I got from St. Louis to Evansville with duct tape over a puncture." 

"That sounds amazingly dangerous." 

"I survived, didn't I?" Steve asks. 

"By the skin of your teeth." 

"You weren't even there!" 

You finish your sugary donut and try to earn Junie's attention. She's pulling apart a donut of her own in her hands and licking the jelly off of her fingers, looking confused and delighted at once. She's going to be thrilled when she realises there are chocolate filled ones after that. 

"Is that nice, my love?" you ask. 

"Mom, it's strawby jelly," she says. "Strawby strawby strawby." 

She's been chatty today. "Strawberry, huh? Do you like that? It looks yummy." 

Junie offers you a squashed square. Some people would be disgusted at the mauled goods. You take it and eat it, 'cos her hands should be clean, you washed them yourself a half hour ago before she started on the treats. The strawberry jam is as fake as they can make it, which is probably great for Junie but sucks for you. 

You're starting to stand when a big cup of water gets placed in front of you, held by a familiar hand. You love his stupid hands, his knuckles and his short nails and the tiny white hairs, everything about them. More now as they deliver your saving grace. 

"How'd you know?" you ask Eddie, turning in your seat as you pick up the glass.

"I tried one earlier, I knew you wouldn't like it." 

"How could you possibly know that?" 

He taps the tip of his nose. 

"I should be heading home," Wayne says. 

"You don't want to stay for dinner?" you ask, sitting up properly. 

"No, kid, I'm alright." 

"He's meeting his friends at the bar," Eddie says, "don't let him fool you." 

"We haven't kept you, have we? I'm sorry," you say. 

"No, you didn't keep me. I had a great time, best kids party ever," Wayne says, standing up. He leans down to meet Junie's eyes. "Happy birthday, little miss. Make sure you plant one on your mom, huh? It's been a long day." 

You don't think she gets his drift but she nods at his solid eye contact, and that's good enough for him. Wayne claps Eddie on the shoulder and they walk off to the front door. Eddie follows him down the steps as they trade goodbyes. 

"I should get going too," Steve says. 

"Are you sure?" you ask, frowning. "If you want to stay for dinner, that's no problem. I don't know what Eddie's told you but I'm a good cook, I promise. We're gonna have Junie's favourite, it's fresh chicken noodle with stelline, the little stars." 

Steve wavers, "I-" 

"If you don't have anywhere to be tonight, it's really no trouble. I'd love to have you, I'm sure Eddie would too." 

"Yeah, okay. If you're sure," he says, scratching a hand through his hair. 

Junie jumps down off of her chair with impressive gusto and crawls under the table to your thighs. She leaves sugary fingerprints behind as she emerges, patting your legs until you're forced to help her up. She's mumbling something. Junie talks all the time, but what counts for actual words is another story. 

"What are you saying?" you ask, pulling her legs out from under her so she doesn't hurt her knees. 

She babbles. Her face has all the intent of someone speaking understandable language, to the point where you feel bad for not getting it. 

"Baby talk doesn't get easier?" Steve asks. 

"I mean… she's mine. I understand her a lot more than Eddie does, but half the time she might as well be speaking Sindarin." 

You pause, mouth open. Steve licks his lips. 

"Is that–" 

"From Lord of the Rings, yeah. We've been reading it together." 

"It's worse than I thought. You should really come out with us sometime, have conversations with people who aren't trying to brainwash you," Steve jokes. 

Junie hums, pleased at something invisible, and starts pulling your sleeve down over your hand. You nod toward her. "I can't, really. I always have her." 

"You could bring her with you. I wouldn't care, and Robin wouldn't either. We have a couple other friends who'd love you; Jonathan, he's a photograph developer for the post, and he's kind of quiet but he's one of those undercover nerds, like you." 

"Stop flirting with my girl," Eddie says, closing the door behind him. 

"She's actually talking like you and the idiots." Steve looks at you from the corner of his eyes. "No offence." 

"Full offence," you say sweetly, leaning down to give Junie a kiss. "We're offended, aren't we? Mister Steve's name-calling." 

Junie looks up, smiles at Steve like a traitor, and then spots Eddie's return. "Up," she says, "up, please." 

Eddie takes her. She gives him a gross sticky kiss on the cheek and he eats it up. "What do you want, then, birthday girl?" 

She pops her lips but doesn't say. Eddie carries her to the fridge and opens the freezer, sorting through the amassed collection of frozen treats. There's a range of popsicles and ice cream sandwiches hiding between mini pizzas and a bunch of ready-made pasta you got on sale. 

She accepts a popsicle and then insists on a second. Eddie glances at you.

"It's her birthday," you say. 

"What happens tomorrow? When she expects another round of treats?" Steve asks. 

"I pop a double dose of Tylenol–" 

"She won't be doing that," Eddie says. 

"I take two Tylenol," you amend, "and we try to explain. It's worth it even if she is a demon tomorrow. You've had a good day, right?" You smile at June and her two popsicles, one fist cherry pink and the other lime green. 

"She's had the best day ever," Eddie says, and then, a reflection of yourself if you've ever seen it, he kisses her forehead five times in a row. 

"Oh, god save her," Steve says. 

You stand up to make dinner. Steve helps, and Eddie promises to join you in a moment but never gets around to it, preoccupied by Junie's turbulent popsicle eating and the subsequent rainbow stains on your couch cushions. He scrubs at them with a washcloth and Steve, helpful but unnecessary, stands at your side having chopped all there was to be chopped. 

"You can come around whenever," you say, wondering if that's too far. 

"That's generous. You don't really want me here that often," he says, chuckling. 

You dip your pinky finger in the saucepan to gauge the heat. It's not hot enough to add the pasta stars yet  

"Steve, this might shock you, but I actually like having company. It was just me and Junie for so, so long, and I love her, but–" You stir the soup with a wooden spoon rather than continue whatever embarrassing thing your heart had compelled you to verbalise. "I missed having real conversations." You laugh. "I've never been as lucky as when Eddie decided he didn't mind being around me." 

"It's worse than that. He minds not being around you. We had him over for dinner, yeah? Two weeks ago? He started rubbing it in my face that he met you first." Steve crosses his arms. "You're pretty, but I have a girlfriend, and he knows that." 

"What's she like?" you ask. 

"She's amazing. I keep worrying she'll realise that I'm a total loser." He clears his throat. "I mean, I'm a catch, obviously. But no, you'd like her. She'd like you." 

"Think so?" 

"One hundred percent." 

"Maybe we should go on a double date like in the movies." 

"Stevie'd like that," Eddie calls. "He's been trying to get me on a date with him for years." 

"You wish, Munson."  

"Yes I do," he sing-songs. 

Junie throws a teddy at him and he drops to the floor like he's passed out. She giggles and climbs on top of him. He oofs but doesn't throw her off, maintaining his act until she sits on top of his chest and starts poking his cheeks. His tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

"Well, you can't have my boyfriend, but you can have the best chicken soup ever if you pass me the stelline from the cabinet." 

You think Steve might be a great friend. He's funny, he's quick-witted, and he's bitchy but not mean. He and Eddie get physically aggressive with each other when he asks for a second serving, because She's not your servant, Harrington and I was asking permission, you idiot, but it's definitely more friendly than nasty.

When Steve does get going it's later than any of you realised. He says goodbye with varying levels of niceness. You get a heartfelt thank you for the meal and compliments on the party, Eddie gets a hug with a shoulder pat and then an insult that actually worries you until you hear him laughing, and Junie gets a hesitant hug. Junie wants the hug desperately, and Steve isn't used to her yet, but when she gets her arms around his neck he rubs her little shoulders like a pro. 

"How did you ever land him?" you ask after his car has pulled away. 

Eddie giggles like a kid, "That's so offensive." 

"He's a sweetheart…" You turn to him. "You're a sweetheart, what am I saying?" 

"What are you saying?" 

You lean against his chest. Eddie looks at you warmly enough that it makes you feel you're gorgeous —something in his smile, maybe, that says he's thinking a nice thought. When you lean on him it grows more obvious. His lips part, his eyes on yours.

"You're so fucking pretty.” Your smile is too much like a smirk and yet it doesn't put him off. "I'm serious," he says, hands clasped at the small of your back. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." He steals a soft kiss. "Very welcome." He steals another. 

You're putty, melting, and you'd care but his hands are loving. He slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and presses his rough palm to your back. You rub your cheek against his chest and feel it like a siren in your head: I'm lucky. How'd I get so lucky? 

"Yeah!" Junie shouts, jumping on the couch and almost falling flat on her face. "Kiss kiss," she says, "Mommy!" 

"Demanding, insatiable pest," Eddie says. 

"Don't you dare talk about my love like that," you scold. 

"I meant you," he says, grinning at a well-landed joke. "C'mere, let's have a good birthday cuddle before mommy's shower."

"You're showering first," you say. 

"I thought you liked it when I smell gross?" 

"You smell like wet grass, but that's not why. You should go first 'cos the water won't be hot by the second one." 

Eddie gets gooey. "I'm weird about you. Keep being like this and I'll get weirder. You couldn't cope with that and neither could I." 

"Not even," you say. 

"Kiss please," Junie insists, still jumping. 

You and Eddie turn to her at the same time. Her eyes widen as though she knows what's about to happen, but she doesn't care. She's had the best day ever. Woke up with tickles, praised and petted and cuddled, she's bounced from a birthday breakfast of waffles and more syrup than her baby teeth should be able to withstand to TV with stovetop popcorn and her favourite movie. She sang, she preened under your fingers in her hair, and played in the pool until her legs turned to jelly. She blew out all her candles in one breath (aided, secretly, by Eddie behind her as you held the cake). She ate enough donuts to down a horse. And now, to end it all, she's gonna get the world's best hug. 

"Ready?" Eddie asks dramatically. "Three, two…" 

You reach for her at the same time, laughing before you've so much as set a hand on her fleece-covered shoulders. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you soooo much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed. Writing is a labour of love but sharing it is terrifying so if you enjoyed this, please let me know, or consider reblogging. It makes a big difference! ♡ I really missed writing for them! Please forgive sometimes the formatting of my paragraphs being odd, I had to cut this down to fit it all into one post!

[happilychee]

how fairy tail takes care of you when you're sick

cw: descriptions of being sick

I have covid and I wanted to cheer myself up :(

♡ it's a normal day at the fairy tail guild. the job board is crowded with papers, drinks and food are flowing, someone's starting a fight (natsu), and the air is filled with lively chatter. there's only one thing off: you're not there.

♡ gray is the first one to notice. he's at a table with lucy, cana, and erza. he and erza just got back from a stealth mission that paid them well, and he's looking forward to relaxing. except... "where's [name]?" he asks. lucy furrows her brow. "they weren't in yesterday... should we check on them?" gray nods, and the four of them leave the guild hall.

♡ you feel like someone threw you through a wall. your nose is clogged, feeling stuffy and congested. your throat itches and every time you cough it feels like you're hacking away at your lungs. there's a building pressure in your head, a pulsing pain that signals the onset of a migraine. you think that you'd be able to handle the usual symptoms of a cold, except for the burning aches in your lower back. your coughs shake your entire body as your muscles scream in protest, and you curse whatever virus decided to infect you.

♡ you manage to get yourself out of bed and into your kitchen, hoping to make yourself some rice or hot tea with honey. instead, you start seeing black spots swim across your vision, and the world starts tilting like you're swaying on the prow of a ship. you lower yourself onto the cool tile floor, relishing in the soothing temperature against your burning skin. you're so out of it that you don't register the knocks at your door turning into insistent bangs.

♡ finding you half passed out on your kitchen floor was not on gray's to-do list for the day. his worried hands hover over your shivering form, unsure what to check first. erza settles the matter by scooping you into her arms, Requiping out of her armor as she carries you to the couch.

♡ gray takes charge of the kitchen, your favorite recipes coming to kind. he settles on a warm and hearty soup, sure to soothe your hunger and your aches. he starts chopping vegetables, turns on the stove, and soon enough, the kitchen is filled with a delicious and appetizing aroma.

♡ erza is the one who takes your temperature, gets you back to enough coherency to explain your symptoms, and then finds the right medicine for you. she props your back up with pillows, tucks a blanket around you, and feeds you the disgusting cold medicine that porlyusica and wendy swear by.

♡ cana would love to help you and take care of you, except lucy looks pale as a sheet and a little green. she helps the blonde sit at the kitchen table, patting her arm soothingly. lucy mumbles that her mom passed from an illness, and seeing you so sick makes bad memories come back. cana soothes her, reassuring her that you'll be fine. lucy only relents when your eyes crack open, and you direct a gooey smile at her.

♡ you fade in and out of consciousness, snippets of sound and touch registering in your brain. someone is petting your hair while singing, their soft hands braiding and unbraiding your locks. a hand trails over your back, warm and calloused fingers digging into the knots in your shoulders. you purr under the sensation, leaning into the comforting touch. a soft arm, usually covered in armor, wraps around you to sit you up as a chilly hand brings a spoonful of something warm and delicious to your chapped lips. cold bangles brush against your skin as someone lifts you up, carrying you to the land of dreams.

♡ when you regain consciousness, your friends don't let you lift a single finger. gray cooks every meal for you with cana as his sous chef, erza is on top of your medication, natsu distracts you by telling silly stories, and wendy casts pain-relieving spells to help you recover faster. lucy refuses to leave your side until you're fully healed, so she's always fluffing your pillows, bringing you hot tea with honey, and feeding you snacks. the only time she calms down is when you ask her to read for you. her calming voice lulls you in and out of sleep as you listen to her read about a fairy tale princess's adventure.

♡ levy drops off books at your place so you can occupy your mind. most are either your favorites or her recommendations, but gajeel manages to sneak in a spicy book or two, which has you laughing so hard you start coughing.

♡ mira cooks up a storm in the guild hall, partially out of a desire to help you and partially out of worry. there's enough soup to feed fairy tail ten times over, and she insists that half of it be sent to you. lisanna ans juvia also stop by with some homemade baked goods. juvia gives you a steaming hot loaf of banana bread, some cookies and muffins, and a bunch of pastry buns. "it's just a cold, you didn't have to do all this." you try to reason, but no one listens to you when you look nauseous and your shoulders are shaking.

♡ there's someone at your place every day while you're recovering. it could be natsu and happy raiding your pantry and making a mess, it could be lucy and gray cleaning up their mess while erza yells at them, it could be wendy with balms and salves and a story to tell you, it could be the strauss siblings with more food and cheer than you'd ever seen before, it could be juvia with gajeel, lily, and a basket of your favorite buns. point being, fairy tail doesn't take their eyes off you for a moment while you're under the weather.

♡ when you feel well enough to come to the guild hall, everyone starts cheering. laxus fires up the grill, mira pours drinks in a flurry, and cana drags you into some drinking game. the entire guild hall roars to life, partying the night away, because what better reason is there to celebrate than the return of a dear friend?