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lovebugism · 8 months

Note

Im a very indecisive person but I guess I'll go with “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” with Eddie, if you have any inspiration for this prompt 💕

ty for requesting!! — you get mean when you like someone, so eddie thinks you hate him (grump!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, shameless succession reference, 1.9k)

“Please, tell me you’re joking,” you mumble through the melting vanilla shake on your tongue.

Robin grins at you across the table and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You are officially looking at Vicki Carmichael’s latest odyssey.”

You and Eddie look over your shoulder at Steve. He stands at the front counter and fumbles with the straw dispenser — hitting the lever repeatedly, with an increasingly rougher touch when nothing comes out. He flounders when they all spill out at once.

He’s lucky he’s so pretty.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Eddie announces from beside you after stealing a sip of your milkshake. He squints and fights off a brain freeze. “Why didn’t he just tell us? He’s screwing the hottest girl in town— it feels like something he’d brag about.”

“I’m sitting right here,” you scoff, mostly kidding.

“‘Cause he knew you guys would totally ream him for it,” Robin answers and pinches fry crumbs into her mouth. Through a mouthful of them, she says, “It’s not like you’re usually supportive about this kinda stuff.”

“I’m all for Steve being a slut, okay?” you defend with your hands up in surrender. “But I do draw the line at my best friend fucking the girl who bullied me in high school.”

“What’d she do?” Eddie asks. You can’t tell if he really cares or if he just wants something new to laugh at you for, but you decide to humor him anyway.

“She cut out the boobs of my gym shirt before class because she knew if I dressed out again, I was getting detention,” you explain, smiling when it makes the table laugh. “I had to run the mile with my bright pink sports bra showing, but at least my record was clean.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve wonders aloud when he returns to the table, carrying the only straw that hadn’t fallen to the floor. He slides into the booth next to Robin and looks at the three of you expectantly.

“Nothing.” the brunette girl chirps.

“You,” Eddie deadpans.

You squint. “Real smooth, Munson.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, Vicki Carmichael? Seriously?”

Steve gapes at Robin, features yawned in betrayal. “You told them?”

The girl shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and playing coy.

“She’s hot and everything, but she’s really not your type, man.”

Steve’s eyes narrow across the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, freak?”

“She likes bad boys,” you answer for him, shrugging like it’s obvious. “You know, the Billy Hargrove types. With tattoos and leather jackets and long hair. And, no offense, but you’re the furthest thing from that.”

“I think you just described me, doll,” Eddie laughs.

“Weren’t you screwing around with Billy Hargrove a couple months ago?” Steve wonders with a knowing, honeyed squint.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you bite.

Eddie grins with all his teeth, pink and boyish and proud. “Oh, so you’re screwing guys that are just like me now, huh? I’m flattered.”

“If anything, you’re the dollar store version of Billy Hargrove, Munson,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning your attention to the milkshake in front of you. You stab holes in the thick ice cream and try to ignore the sudden attention.

All the eyes on you make you nervous. You were never good at being the butt of the joke. ‘Cause when you get embarrassed, you get mean. Like some kinda hurt dog.

“You have everything but the looks.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie snorts and snatches the frosted glass away from you. He slides it over to his side of the table and sips from the straw that has your lipstick stained on the tip of it. “You can’t insult me—”

“Can’t I?”

“—Not when you’re fucking a carbon copy of me,” he scoffs and tries to ignore the jealousy burning wildfires behind his ribcage.

“He’s nothing like you,” you insist.

“He’s exactly like me. Just blonde. And watered down,” Eddie argues, face twisted with disgust. He smiles when it makes everyone else laugh but you. “I mean, it’s kinda sad, actually. I turned you down, so you had to try it out with Hargrove?”

“I didn’t try it, first of all, I fucking conquered it,” you retort, not exactly joking but grinning when it makes Steve and Robin chuckle to themselves. “And second of all, I never wanted you, Munson. So there was never anything to turn down.”

Your words sting somewhere deep in his chest. Like there’s a knife lodged deep in his heart that aches every time he breathes. He doesn’t know what to do with this hurt other than hurt you back.

“So that night you told me you liked me after my show— that was all a lie?” he asks, smirking to hide his ache.

Robin’s eyes go wide as she bites into her burger. “What is this? A sleepover?” she scoffs with her mouth full. “Why is everyone telling each other’s secrets?”

“You started it, Buckley,” Steve quips before stealing one of her fries.

Your answer is immediate. A total lie, but instant nonetheless. No one’s gonna out-insult you. Rarely ever do you come out of petty arguments without having drawn the most blood.

“Yeah! You bombed, and I felt bad, and I wanted to make you feel better,” you confess with a sinister giggle. “What I really wanted to say is that I wish your mom had given birth to a can opener because at least then it might be good at something.”

Eddie meets your smirk with a glower, something genuinely pained that makes your chest sting. You refuse to show it, though. Not even when he slides out of the booth. “Yeah, okay. Fuck you,” he mumbles to himself as he goes.

“What?” you scoff a cynical laugh.

“C’mon,” Steve murmurs quietly to you. “That was a little too far.”

“Oh, so he can make fun of me, but I can make fun of him?”

“It’s different. You know that.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he’s right. Eddie’s a clown, but he means well. He’s a dumbass because he doesn’t know how to be serious about anything, but he’s hardly ever outright mean.

You’re made of something more hardened than that. You set fires all around you, and only when a person walks through it do you know they really care. You don’t mean to be so mean half the time. It’s a defense mechanism more than anything. A time-bomb you never really learned to defuse.

“It was a joke, Eds!” you shout as he storms the short distance to the entrance of the diner.

“Well, surprise. I have feelings—” he grins, though there’s little emotion behind it. The door dings over his head when he shoves it open. He reaches for the crushed packet of cigarettes in his pocket. “—And you just hurt them.”

The diner feels strangely silent with him gone. The air feels noticeably heavy, too.

You reach for the milkshake he left on his side of the table and slide it audibly back over to you. You don’t sip from it, though. Your stomach’s too much in knots now. You just busy your fidgeting hands with it, holding the frosted glass in your delicate palms until they ache.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, not meeting the silent looks Robin and Steve give you across the booth.

“Go talk to him before you give him a complex.”

“Yeah,” the boy hums with a knowing smile. “Go kiss and make up.”

“Shut up,” you bite with a scrunched-together face. You deflate with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go— but not because you told me to.”

You hear them laugh quietly to themselves as you walk out behind Eddie.

He leans against the corner of the old building and blows smoke from his lungs. He looks relatively unfazed despite the circumstances. You swallow down the worry that you’re embarrassing yourself by being out here at all.

Your shoes scuff against the sidewalk as you near him. “Eds—”

“I’m fine,” he interjects before you can say anything real. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well, it’s too late. Steve and Robin already kicked me out here, so…” You trail off in a monotone, despite having already declared that you were out here not because you were told to be. He doesn’t need to know that, though. “…I’m sorry.”

He takes a puff of the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugs on the exhale. “Okay.”

“The can opener thing was stupid— I mean, it wasn’t nice either, but it was a really dumb joke,” you ramble without taking a single breath. You cross your arms over yourself in a makeshift shield. “You didn’t even bomb that night. At your show or whatever. I lied. You were… You were actually really good.”

Eddie turns his head slowly. He blinks at you with chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement.

You cower under his stare. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he insists with a crooked smile.

“What?” you repeat, forcing a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” he chuckles and brings the cig back to his mouth. He mumbles through the stick. “But it’s cool, you know? I can cope.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you argue. And then, when your chest starts to sting, it becomes impossible not to make a joke. “I think you’re a… super-talented superstar—”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he interjects with a sincere laugh, like honey and gunpowder.

You giggle, and the foreign tension ebbs.

“I’m just kidding,” you assure and prop your back against the wall beside him. “Well, I mean, I’m not, but I…” You stammer when you can’t find the words. You gesture wildly with your hands. “I do think you’re talented, it’s just— It’s hard for me to be serious, okay? But I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, tossing the cigarette to the ground and snuffing the ash with his sneaker. “Trust me. I know what you mean.”

You swallow hard. “And I wasn’t… What I said to you that night, in your van after the show… I wasn’t lying.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He blinks at you with a gaping gaze, even though you’re not looking at him to see it. You’re much more focused on the dumpster across the street, lest you meet his eyes and get embarrassed all over again.

This is the realest you’ve ever been with him, you think — since you told him you liked him and he all but turned you down.

Being vulnerable has been impossible since then.

“Then why’d you never talk to me about it again?” he asks, then stammers over himself. “You acted like it never even happened— I thought I fucking— like, dreamt it or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t say anything back! I thought you didn’t feel the same way!”

“I was just— I was just shocked. You always act like you hate me!”

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you blurt before you mean to, then huff with impatience at yourself. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know how to be nice to people I like.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs, shifting on the brick wall until his shoulder rubs against it. He looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time — glittering with the hope of finally getting close to you, of finally having something real.

“Don’t laugh!” you argue. “I’m trying really hard here!”

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in until you can taste the nicotine on his breath. In a honeyed tone, he confesses, “It’s a good thing I like you mean, then, huh?”

Your heart lurches into your throat. He smirks when you freeze, and knocks his shoulder against yours when he heads back into the diner.

The game of cat and mouse continues.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 year

Text

Okay but mechanic Eddie “stuck” in Hawkins because he maybe celebrated graduation a little TOO hard and maybe ended up with a baby he didn’t intend to have and Wayne is free child care 75% of the time and the other 25% of the time he just brings his little girl to work with him because the receptionist absolutely loves her and loves Eddie and the boss knows he’s a hard worker so he lets him take frequent breaks to check on her

And then one day Steve “finally left Hawkins” Harrington shows up with a smoking engine and a dead battery and Eddie jokes that this is the worst state he’s ever seen a car in that wasn’t in an accident and Steve just blushes and says he “kind of forgot to take care of her” while he was living with Robin in the city since he never drove her so she barely survived the trip to Hawkins to visit the kids

And then Steve sees his daughter and he LOSES IT because Steve LOVES babies so he obviously holds her and talks to her and plays with her and dances around the waiting room with her while Eddie tries to fix what he can

But Eddie keeps getting distracted by them and shocks himself when he tries to jumpstart the car and it leaves a small burn on his hand that of course makes all the guys tease him and Steve immediately hears his yell and comes running with the baby and he holds her on his hip while he looks at the burn on Eddie’s hand and Eddie just watches him

You know the look, the one where someone is in awe but feels stupid about it, that one

Steve doesn’t notice but everyone else does, including his not even one year old daughter, who keeps smacking Steve in the cheek (he’s a good sport about it and keeps laughing when she smiles at him) and calling him mama even though she’s never had any reason to even learn that word and Steve just smiles at her, doesn’t correct her or stop her

And Eddie kind of has no idea what’s happening because sure, he had a crush on Steve in high school (who didn’t), and even after the demobats when he visited him in the hospital almost every day (who wouldn’t), and maybe even a little bit when he took a woman home with him who probably didn’t even care enough about him to know how proud he was of himself for graduating and got a baby out of it, but now it’s still there and it’s worse and he doesn’t know what to do because Steve lives in Chicago with Robin and Eddie can’t LEAVE

#what is this shit mickala #idk I saw that mechanic Eddie art and my brain said 321 go #so I went #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #headcanon

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puck-luck · 5 months

Note

okay since you wanted requests to switch it up a bit.. could you write trevor zegras x fem!reader smut where his gf is less experienced than him and wants to give him head but she’s never done it before so he guides her through it 🫣

other requests: “could you write a smut with some fluff in it too, with trevor zegras walking his gf through giving him head because it’s her first time and she’s nervous/doesn’t know what to do”, “obsessed with the idea of trevor zegras talking his gf through how to give him head when it’s her first time and she’s nervous about not knowing what to do.. like literally giving her instructions throughout, with lots of praise and reassurance, but also dirty talk bc let’s be real, it’s trevor.” warnings: oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, inexperienced reader x experienced partner, praise, coming on face, masturbation joke warnings: tw: los angeles angels (i prefer the dodgers), in a world where tz never broke his ankle during the 2023-2024 season… pairing: trevor zegras x inexperienced!fem!reader summary: see requests above. wc: 3089

Trevor Zegras was the most giving, patient man you had ever known. Maybe his patience came from having younger siblings, but it was more likely that it came from years and years of working with teammates in a cutthroat sport. You had grown up watching hockey, gaining intimate knowledge of the sport when you had started dating Trevor. Trevor, in exchange, found himself more than knowledgeable about baseball, the sport of your choice, than he ever needed to be.

You two had met when you came to Anaheim, having graduated a year early from college with a degree in Sports Marketing. You had landed a job with the Los Angeles Angels, which had relocated you to the area, and you couldn’t imagine your life going any other way. There were times when you missed your family and missed home, but once you had gotten settled into your job and you had met Trevor, Anaheim started to feel like the home you’d been destined to find.

Anaheim was also an escape from your hometown– a place where, despite your best efforts, you did not feel welcome. You had told Trevor early in your relationship about your lack of experience sexually and tried to explain it away with a long-winded story about being a “weird kid,” but Trevor had brushed it off and told you he didn’t mind your inexperience. He was happy, he said, to teach you everything he could. All you had to do was say the word.

So, you’d worked up to it. You’d slept in the same bed, touched him, and he had touched you. Hockey season had helped the pace of your relationship, with Trevor traveling almost every other week. He was gone for two weeks straight in January, traveling from coast to coast, and it was then that you had shyly admitted to him through the tinny speaker of your phone how badly you wanted to suck him off.

He had fumbled with the phone, groaning at the idea alone of your mouth around his length, and it had resulted in a long FaceTime call in which you watched him fuck into his hand, telling you how much better it would feel if it was your mouth.

It was the Monday night after they had come back. Trevor had had a game on Sunday at Honda Center against the Rangers and spent the night at his place because it was closer to the rink. As much as he was itching to see you, and your heart was beating out of your chest at the idea of seeing him and going through with blowing him, you were scared. Trevor knew that you were nervous, the anticipation was getting to you, just from the way you were texting. The messages were shorter. You weren’t initiating conversation as much. The times between your responses were longer.

It didn’t matter, though. He was coming over tonight.He was going to cook you dinner. He was going to set the mood. He was going to make you comfortable if it was the last thing that he did, and if it meant that you wouldn’t get your mouth on him at all, he was okay with that.

Trevor arrived at your apartment about an hour after you got off work. Spring training was starting in just a month, so things were starting to pick up for you. You were stressed, plenty of tasks on your plate and most of them half-finished. A relaxing dinner with your boyfriend was going to provide a needed distraction.

Trevor had let himself into the apartment and was already pan-searing some cubed potatoes when you got out of the shower. He was in complete boyfriend mode, having stolen your apron and thrown it over his bare chest. You could see his tattoos from where you were standing, the ones littering his arms and the delicate one on his ribs, and you smiled.

He seemed like a tough guy, your boyfriend. He had the tattoos, the athletic ability, the sculpted form and ridged muscles of an athlete. Anyone who saw him in the supermarket might think he’s an asshole, but the second they get a good look at him, they’ll realize that he’s just a softie. He tied a delicate bow around the curve of his waist in your baby blue and frilly apron.

“I can feel you looking at me,” Trevor said. You watched his bicep ripple as he moved the potatoes around the pan with a spatula. He threw a glance over his shoulder. “Oh, good, you’re actually there. Could you imagine me saying that to the air?”

“I can, actually,” You replied with a laugh. You walked over and hugged Trevor from behind, arms wrapped solidly around his figure as you squished your cheek against his back. “I bet you did.”

Trevor sputtered out a denial, shaking his head. He relented just seconds later, unable to keep up the bit. “You’re right. I thought you were there like two minutes before you actually were.”

You giggled and pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades.

Trevor placed the spatula down on the counter, then turned the burner off and moved the pan to a different spot on the cooktop. He turned in your arms, inching over just a bit so that you were trapping him against the counter, not the oven. He gasped, reaching up and cradling your face in the palms of his hands.

“What?” You asked.

“You’ve gotten even prettier in the two weeks that I haven’t seen you,” He marveled, tilting your head from side to side as you rolled your eyes.

You pushed away from him, walking out of the kitchen.

Trevor trailed behind you like a puppy.

“You’re a loser,” You said.

“I love my pretty girlfriend,” Trevor replied.

As you passed the couch in your living room, Trevor tackled you over the arm of the object and you fell onto the cushions. You shrieked at the contact, at the fall, and squirmed in Trevor’s grip as he kissed over your neck and face. His fingers were digging into your sides, causing you to giggle and snort between breaths. Trevor was relentless, until he decided to plant a kiss on your lips.

He captured your lips with intent, slowly slotting your bottom lip between his. Trevor always kissed you with purpose, slow, like he was trying to memorize you. He slid his mouth into your tongue like he was trying to lap up your sweetness, keep it on his tongue until he could place your taste and replicate it in a dish or a drink, something he’d be willing to consume every day for the rest of his life. You liked most when he nibbled on your bottom lip before pulling away, something that was so trademark Trevor that it made you breathless. He would always pull back just to look at you, to push your hair out of your face, before diving back in.

He kissed you so gently, so sweetly, that when you felt his bulge press against you, you were almost caught off guard.

“Been thinking about you,” Trevor purred against your lips. “About what you said the other day.”

You froze and Trevor pulled away, hovering over you. He searched your face carefully.

“We don’t have to,” He reassured you. “You know we don’t have to. I’d never make you.”

“I want to,” You replied, voice small. “I’m just… scared.”

“Scared of what?” Trevor asked.

“What if I gag and I throw up all over you?” You cringed at the mere thought. “I’ll die if that happens.”

Trevor stifled a laugh. “I’ll shower and I’ll wait two weeks before letting you near my dick with your mouth again,” He answered, an easy smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

You pouted at him. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I am!” He protested. “Baby, you’re not going to throw up on my dick.”

“What if I do?”

“I just told you what we’d do if you threw up on my dick!”

“Okay, well, you’re not being very supportive of my fears.”

Trevor sighed and placed his hands on your shoulders. He stared deeply into your eyes. “I understand you are afraid of vomiting on my penis. I assure you, that will not happen.”

“How can you be so sure?” You whined.

“It’s never happened before,” Trevor said. He leaned down to kiss the spot under your ear. “Plus, baby, I’m going to go so slow that you’ll be begging for more by the end of it.”

A shiver ran down your spine at that, the way he whispered the words in your ear so his hot breath danced over your skin igniting a flame between your legs.

“Why don’t,” Trevor began, his hand making his way to your clothed mound, “I show you just how good getting head would make me feel?”

His deft fingers rubbed in circles over your clit, the pressure just intense enough to make you moan.

“Would you like that? I’ll get my tongue on you, make you come once, maybe twice…” Trevor kissed you, his lips sliding over yours, his tongue teasing its way into your mouth then out of it. “And then we can revisit the idea of getting your mouth on me?”

“Yeah,” You agreed lamely, the heat between your legs growing more slick with each circle of his fingers and each wet kiss.

Trevor stood from where he was lain on top of you. He untied your apron, which you had almost forgotten he was wearing, and tossed it to the side. He grabbed under your knees and dragged you down towards the arm of the couch, throwing one leg over the arm and setting your other foot on the floor. He kept a hand on that knee, rubbing smooth lines up and down your skin with his thumb. With his other hand, he traced the line of your folds through the fabric of your sweat-shorts.

They were a loose pair, gray and almost threadbare after years of washes and use. The fabric of the shorts was the thinnest barrier Trevor could have faced. You could have put on panties when you got out of the shower, but had opted just for these shorts instead. They were more comfortable. Now, they were just something stopping him from getting his mouth on you.

Except, it didn’t stop him.

Trevor mouthed over your clit, giving it an open-mouthed kiss. You whimpered at the shock that it sent up your body, causing your fingertips to twitch at your side. He ran his tongue over the length of your pussy and chuckled to himself when your hips jumped beneath him.

“Relax, honey,” Trevor said, his words muffled because he was still pressed against you. “Relax and enjoy.”

His fingers came up and moved your shorts out of the way, revealing you to him. Chastely, he kissed your folds, then pointedly blew cold air over your entrance.

“Trev,” You let out, reaching a hand towards his, still rubbing on your knee. He intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Trevor licked his way up to your clit again, capturing it between his lips and sucking. He rolled the bud on his tongue, causing your hips to lift again. “Be good,” He told you, voice low. His eyes were closed as he continued to lick over you, practically french kissing your lower lips the same way he would the ones on your face.

It was a gradual build, the coil in your stomach tightening. You squeezed Trevor’s hand and ground down on his tongue. He flattened his tongue against your clit, letting you hump it, before he tensed it at your entrance and prodded his way into you. He flicked the muscle fast, and the sensation was all too much for you.

You came undone with a loud cry, your thighs closing around Trevor’s head involuntarily.

He continued to lap at your release, cleaning you up and only stopping when you relaxed beneath him and pushed him away.

“How was that?” Trevor asked, his face level with yours.

You reached out and looped your arms around his neck, dragging him forward until your lips crashed against his. This kiss, at your direction, was much more passionate. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth. You turned, pushing at Trevor until he was the one seated on the couch. You found yourself on his lap, grinding down on his bulge.

“So you liked it?” Trevor asked.

You let out a laugh and sucked a hickey under his jaw. “Teach me how to make you feel good like that.”

Trevor shuddered when you scraped your teeth over his pulse point. “On your knees,” He told you. He guided you, with a hand on your shoulder, between his legs.

The sight of you there, feet tucked prettily under you, hands clasped in front of you, has Trevor’s dick twitching in his pants.

“Take my dick out, baby,” Trevor said, his voice soft but firm.

He lifted his hips as you pulled at his shorts. They pooled around his ankles, leaving him in just his briefs.

“Give me your hand.”

You reached up and he took your wrist, guiding your hand toward his bulge. He let your hand rest just to the side of him.

“Touch me. Over my pants.”

You traced the line of his dick over his pants, biting your lip when it jumped under your finger. You palmed him, fitting your hand over the curve of him and beginning to rub him up and down.

Trevor’s head tilted back and he let out a groan. “Faster.”

You sped up, just as he had asked you to, bringing your other hand up to cradle his balls.

“Fuck,” Trevor moaned, inadvertently tipping his hips up into your hand. “Take it out.”

You rushed to do so, scraping your nails against his sides when you pulled at his waistband. Trevor hissed at that, but didn’t say anything. When his dick was revealed to you, standing proud and dripping from the tip, you took it in your hand and leaned down to hesitantly lick his slit.

Trevor’s hands flew to your hair, the strands falling between his fingers. “Again,” He breathed out, eyes wide.

You licked his tip again, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Oh my God,” Trevor drawled out, borderline whimpering. “Baby, fuck, please.”

You smiled, proud of yourself for reducing him from someone who was so sure of himself and so loud to someone who is whining just from your touch. You circled your lips around his lip, sucking lightly.

His dick twitched. “So good,” Trevor praised. “Can you take more?”

You nodded out of instinct, but the sensation made him garble out an unintelligible string of words. You sunk down lower on his dick, feeling your lips stretch as you take him down your throat. You bobbed your head up and down slowly, feeling how he slid in and out of you. The taste of him on your tongue was addicting– salty and just so man. You moaned, the vibrations enveloping Trevor’s dick in a way that made him buck up into your throat. You gagged, a tear forming on your waterline.

Trevor grabbed your hair and pulled you up, just barely off the head of his dick.

“You okay?” He asked. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you gag.”

You cleared your throat and nodded. “You taste so good, Trevor.” Trevor’s jaw dropped at the tone of your voice, light and innocent and sexy because it was worn with use.

“Fuck, suck me again, just take it,” Trevor encouraged, gathering your hair into a ponytail.

You lowered your mouth onto Trevor again, tracing your tongue over the vein on the underside of his dick. You used one hand to pump the part of his dick that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You bobbed up and down, covering your teeth as best you could, but Trevor relished in the ghost of a scrape over his member when you got caught up in the moment.

He was groaning, babbling above you, his abs flexing as he drowned in pleasure. His face was flushed and you whined when you saw the mark that you left on his sharp jawline.

“Baby, you’re so good,” Trevor groaned. “You’re gonna make me come.”

You reached a hand down into your shorts and fingered furiously over your clit, swooning with the sensation there and of the weight on your tongue.

Trevor leaned forward and spotted your movements, saw your hand moving from inside your shorts. “Oh my God, fuck, yeah, make yourself come, too, baby…”

You gave it your all, twisting your hand around the length of Trevor that wasn’t inside your mouth. Drool slid out of your mouth, offering plenty of lubrication for your hand, making it easier to jerk him.

“God, fucking– baby, let me come on your face. Please, wanna see it on you,” Trevor begged.

He said it right as your fingers teased your entrance in just the right way, and you came for the second time that night, kneeling on the carpet for your boyfriend’s pleasure.

You pulled off of Trevor, but kept your mouth open, sticking your tongue out. He took his dick in his hand and jacked himself off quickly, hand flying over his length.

“Close your eyes,” Trevor warned, panting like he couldn’t catch his breath. “Don’t– fuck– don’t want to get my come in your eye.”

You obeyed him, reluctantly losing sight of his figure. There would be plenty of other times where you could watch his face contort with the bliss of his orgasm, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of his hot, sticky come fall on your cheeks before Trevor aims his release at your tongue.

“God, Y/N,” Trevor groaned out. “I kind of want to take a picture of you like this.”

“Can I open my eyes?” You asked, “Wanna look up at you.”

“Yeah,” Trevor agreed, eyes fluttering as he took in the sight of you with his come on your face. When your eyes opened and met his, he felt himself starting to harden again. “Now I really want to take a picture.”

You wiped some of the come off of your cheek with your thumb before licking it off the digit. “Next time. I believe you promised me a home cooked dinner.”

notes: dear trevor zegras, i <3 you and think we could really get up to no good if you'd just give me a look. also, i wrote this at work. also, also, my coworker was sitting next to me and one of the elderly ladies asked me what i was typing. no comment.

#puck-luck's fics #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x y/n #trevor zegras smut #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #andy writes anything🍄#tz11 #hockey smut

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gguk-n · 28 days

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In Another Life (Max Verstappen x Reader)

Summary- Max just lost the love of his life, the woman he wanted to marry and the woman who was carrying his child. What happens when he transports to a place where she might exist? Does he finally get his happily ever after?

Warning- Angst, Major character death

{Max's POV}

My world came crashing down after that fateful call I received. I was in Qatar for the race weekend; my fiance Y/N didn't join me because she had been feeling unwell. I had just gotten off of the podium when a member of the RedBull team brought my phone. It was an unknown caller; I answered the call to "Is this Mr. Max Verstappen?" the voice asked. "yes" I replied, my heart started to beat a little louder and faster then it did after races. "I'm calling from the Princess Grace Hospital. You are Miss Y/N Y/L/N's emergency contact." they continued. "yes" I replied, a bad feeling making it's way to the pit of my stomach. "Is she ok? What happened? Why is she at the hospital and why are you calling me?" I rambled almost racing to the driver's room to change and leave. "We're sorry to inform you but Miss Y/L/N is no more" they said remorsefully. "What?" I stammered. "We tried our best but the collision was catastrophic. I'm sorry for your loss." they said. I stood still, in the middle of the paddock. My legs felt numb, "You're lying. She can't be dead" I screamed catching everyone's attention. People started to whisper, "Do something, you have to save her. You're doctors for fucks sake. Bring my girlfriend back. NOW" I bellowed. "I'm coming, I'm out of the country right now, but I want my girlfriend well and healthy by the time I'm there" I said finally gaining the feeling in my legs and ended the call.

Carlos, Charles, Lando and Checo were now standing next to me. "Everything OK?" Charles asked. I laughed, "It was the hospital, they were spewing nonsense that Y/N is dead. I spoke to her before the race. She was on the way back from the hospital. They say she's dead, haha. What a load of bull?" I said. All of their faces had dropped, Charles had moved forward to pat my back and Carlos wrapped me in a hug. "It's okay" Carlos muttered. "NO, NO. She can't be gone. We were gonna get married and have kids and not make them race car drivers since the sport gave her anxiety. Carlos this can't be true" I cried; my resolve breaking while Carlos hugged me tighter holding me up and patting my back. The flight back to Monaco was a blur, I don't remember how I got to the hospital, I don't remember filling out any forms, I don't remember her dad hugging me as they showed Y/N's lifeless body to me. What I remember is her face and it had a few scratches, her hands bruised, she looked peacefully asleep. I reached forward holding her hand in mine, "How could you leave me? You know how much I hate this world. You're the only thing that made it worth living for." I cried. The doctors entered the room and handed me the stuff she was carrying, "Here are her belongings. I'm very sorry for your loss, sir." he said handing me her stuff and a hospital file. I opened up the file to find an ultrasound scan and a report saying that she was pregnant. I fell down on the floor, "We were going to have a kid" I whispered which her father heard; I heard a wail leave his lips.

We buried her in a cemetery in her home town surrounded by flowers and greenery. I spent too much time there; I missed a few races too. But I was back before the final races; I didn't win a single race after her death. But when I stood on top of the podium as the World Driver's Champion of 2023, I didn't celebrate. How could I when the person who celebrated my every win was no where to be seen. I flew back to meet her after the race. As I was sat at her grave; "I won the championship for the third time. It didn't feel it though. You should've been there. I know I know, you must be angry since I missed 3 races and lost the last two. But you told me that the points were enough for me to win; so I won for us and our little one. How are you two? Both of you must be in heaven if there is a heaven. I wish I could say that I hope we meet but I don't think I'll make it heaven ever. I hope our child is happy. I love you lifde. You took a part of me when you left" I whispered, placing the bouquet of roses; a tradition I started after winning my first championship.

After the funeral, I was given Y/N's phone and messages were open; there was an unsent message. "Baby, I know you're racing rn, hope you win like always. btw, I went to the doctor and guess what? I'm pregnant. We're gonna have a mini Max soon. I know you'll be the best dad ever. I love you" it read. My tears didn't stop. I was robbed of a future I always dreamt of with her. That asshole drove while drunk, why did he deserve to live, why did he deserve to wake up every morning but the love of my life didn't? Why did he get to go back home when I couldn't even bring my girlfriend and kid back home? I hope he rots, I hope when I meet him he doesn't get to walk away from me for stealing the best thing that ever was mine.

The off season was torture, I spent my time laying in bed while my friends and family came over to make sure I ate and showered. They tried to get me to clean the house but I had left it untouched since the day she left. I wasn't ready to let her go just yet. Her parents would come in occasionally to check up on me. Her dad was currently sat at our table while I ate the food her mom made, "Max, you need to move on. Y/N must be suffering, watching you like this." he said. "I hope she is, she doesn't get to leave and expect me to be normal" I spoke. "Max, we love you. You are my son; I can't watch you like this. Y/N would want you to move on and live with the happy memories you two made." he said. "I know, I just need time" I mumbled while tears streamed down my face. He gave me a hug and then left. I wasn't ready, I don't think I'll ever be ready.

I didn't attend the pre season training until Horner dragged me. We spent some time but I couldn't focus. I was supposed to fly out to Bahrain in a week for the first race of the season. I don't remember when I fell asleep but I woke up to a much cleaner apartment. It pissed me off, so I called Lando who answered in a few seconds. "Who the fuck cleaned my apartment? I told you I would do it at my pace" I screamed. "Mate, no one entered your house. I don't know what you're talking about" he replied. "Don't fuck with me. Where's all of Y/N's stuff. It's missing" I said. "Who's Y/N?" he asked. "Don't fuck with me Lando. You know who Y/N is" I cried. "Max, I really don't. Was it the girl you took home the other day?" he questioned. I was annoyed and cut the call.

After some searching and the whole house being devoid of any sign of Y/N I decided to call her but my phone didn't have her contact. I flew to where her grave was which was missing. Everything was strange, I don't know why but I googled myself. That's when I saw it, my ex's name wasn't Y/N and she didn't die in a car crash. With time I realised that I was in an alternate universe where we had never met. A world where I didn't know Y/N existed was the worst kind but it gave me hope that maybe Y/N was alive in this universe. Maybe, I was here to meet her, to have the chance that was robbed from me. I spent my time racing, making sure I won every race so that incase she watched Formula One she knew about me. I would explore each city in hopes of running into her.

It was during Silverstone weekend when I went to the cafe the day after the race. It was very early so there weren't many people around. I walked into the cafe when I heard it, the voice that brought a smile to my face, there she stood. My Y/N, at the counter ordering her coffee, Iced Spanish Latte she said, her favourite. I smiled at her before walking towards the counter. I ordered and went to stand next to her while I waited for the order. She turned towards and smiled nervously, "You're Max Verstappen, right?" she asked. I nodded. "Oh my God, I'm a huge fan. Sorry to bother you but can I get a picture with you?" she asked. I agreed and we ended up taking a picture and talking after grabbing our drinks. She looked the same, her hair flowed down her back, her face had those moles I loved to kiss, her bright smile and infectious laughter. She was an avid Formula One fan from what I got. I offered her tickets to the next race which she denied politely. She got up to bid me farewell, "Will you go out with me?" I blurted, I hoped that she would say yes. "I'm sorry Max, but I have a boyfriend" she mumbled apologetically. I nodded, "It's ok. I'm sorry about this" I muttered. "No, no, I'm sorry for giving the wrong impression. I'll get going. Thanks for the picture and autograph though" she said while she walked away from my life for the second time.

A couple races later, I saw her again. This time at the paddock, I greeted her as she entered wearing Ferrari paddock passes. I eyed the card on her neck before she said that she was here with her boyfriend. I nodded along and watched her walk towards the Ferrari hospitality. It was media day and we were supposed to go get interviewed when she walked in with Carlos. He introduced her to us as his girlfriend. My heart shattered as I watched her peck his lips. She was kind, loving and understanding like she always was. I couldn't watch Carlos have what was once mine. In this universe, she never was mine. It hurt to watch her laugh at his jokes or kiss him or hug him. It hurt so much to watch her be in love with a man that wasn't me. I couldn't help but look at her longingly, there was a sort of pain in my eyes that only she caught it seems. Because she asked to speak to me as soon as I had come to the paddock on race day. I took her to my driver's room where we sat down.

"What's up Max? You look at me like a puppy that's been kicked. You look at me like I have hurt you beyond repair" she asked. I breathed out, "What if I told you I wasn't from this universe?" I asked. "I would say you're crazy" she said. "But I was, I was from a time line where I was gonna marry the love of my life, the woman that made life worth living. The universe where I wasn't only winning on track but also in real life because of her. We'd been together for 5 years and were planning a life together. I had proposed and she couldn't join me for my Qatar race last year because she was sick, I wish she had. Then then..... It was because she was carrying our child, she had gone to the doctor and found out but she was never able to tell me in person, I found out later. Then I get a call from the hospital saying that some asshole killed her in a drunk driving accident when she was returning home. I fly back to find her lifeless body. I haven't gotten over her yet, I missed races and performed poorly. But what could I do when I lost my life. Then one day I wake up here, a universe where we've never met and I spend all my time looking for her and then I find her at a cafe. We talk, she's a fan" she looked at me expectantly with tears in her eyes,"I'm sorry" she mumbled. "I ask her out but she has a boyfriend. Then we meet at the race and every time I see her my heart breaks watching them because that was me. She looked just like you, sounded just like you, was just like you with the same name." I cried, finally breaking down. She wrapped her arms around me as my body shook while sobs ripped through my chest.

"Max, if alternate universes are real and you are from another and lost the love of your life that looked exactly like me. I'm sorry. But I know, that she...I mean me from that universe wouldn't want you to mope. She would want you to move on. She would look down at you and make sure you were safe during every race, She would hope that you found half the happiness you gave her. She would want you to be yourself and not let this affect you. I can't tell you to move on now, but I can tell you to take your time. She wants you to always be happy. Please, take care of yourself. Be happy. Remember her but move on for her sake if not yours" she said all the while hugging me. I cried for a very long time and she embraced me until I let her go. She wiped away my tears and had me drink water. We walked out while I went to race and she went to Ferrari.

I won the race and headed back home after the weekend. When I went to sleep, I woke up back in my apartment. How did I know it was mine and not the other universe is because there was a paper next to the table that read, "I'm sorry for your loss. I cleaned up the space a bit but there are pictures of the whole house as it was before with all her memories in a couple boxes in the closet. I went to her grave with her dad too. I got her flowers. I hope you can move on. P.S We're leading the championship, hope you didn't throw mine away" I laughed after reading the note. Like it said, all the stuff was in the cupboard and there were pictures. I smiled at the boxes, I guess Y/N was the one who intervened because she knew I needed this. I walked out to the balcony and looked up at the sky before saying, "I'll live better. I'll make you proud, just you watch and then I'll come to you whenever you want me too"

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augustjustice · 5 months

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That Healing Touch

AO3 Link

They stand in the Mayfield’s darkened living room, all looking at each other like they can’t quite conjure up the words for their next move. Eddie rubs a hand over his head, eyes darting away from the gazes of the others, just barely managing to bite off another Jesus Christ by digging his teeth into his bottom lip.

They can’t be certain where Mrs. Mayfield is. Maybe she’s been cleared out because of the hellscape currently seeping through Eddie’s trailer ceiling, like he assumes Uncle Wayne has. Maybe–she’s out for some other reason. The pinched expression on Little Red’s face suggests that wouldn’t be all too uncommon, for her mother not to come home in the night.

Eddie knows that song and dance well enough from his own youth.

All they can do is hope for the best–that she doesn’t show up. Eddie isn’t sure what they’ll do then, but he’s gotten pretty damn good at this whole running thing, bitter as he is about it.

“We should try to get some sleep,” Nancy finally breaks the silence, clipped and authoritative, like she hadn't just been dragged through a landscape of nightmares by Vecna’s own design.

After Chrissy, and then Patrick, Nancy makes the third time Eddie’s seen it, a pair of eyes glazing over, ghostly white. As shaken up as it’s left him every time just to see it from the outside looking in, he can barely understand how Wheeler is still on her feet, isn’t just a quivering mess in the corner somewhere, like he imagines he would be. Full of surprises is a fucking understatement, at this point.

“Nance–” Steve starts, one arm stretching out towards her, the worry on his face transparent.

“I’ll be okay, Steve,” she takes a step away from him, putting distance between them.

From the thin line of her mouth, Eddie gets the sense that any comfort offered might make her reach her breaking point. Steve must feel it too, because he drops his hands as though in surrender.

“Just…” Nancy sighs, steadying herself, “we won’t be any help at all if we’re all too exhausted to function.”

“You heard the lady,” Robin gives a wobbly, uncertain smile, “she’s in charge, after all.”

She pulls out that old adage, like it’s a well worn joke. Eddie has the good grace not to call her out on it, doesn’t quite drawl out a sarcastic That’s not what you said in the boat, but it’s a close call.

Steve’s eyes dart back and forth between them, lingering on Robin, the pair of them managing some kind of silent communication through nothing but frowns and eyebrow twitches.

“Alright, alright,” he finally agrees, however reluctantly, giving a defeated nod. “I mean, you’re not wrong on the sleep thing. Not like we can play our best game when we’re totally out of it, after all.”

There’s something in his tone, the way his gaze flits briefly to the kids and then catches Eddie’s own, that reminds him of that moment right before launching off the bank out into Lover’s Lake. Steve’s being glib, casual, the way Eddie had been when he’d refused to let Dustin get on the boat with them, the four older teens all playing along with an unspoken plan. He’s trying so desperately to seem perfectly normal for the four munchkins currently in the room with them.

Eddie barely understands how any of the kids are holding their shit together as well as they already are, especially when he feels like he’s about to shake apart himself at any second. But behind the brave faces, he can see it, the exhaustion beginning to settle, making them look older than they have any right to.

The least he can do is play along.

“Not the sports metaphors, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, long and loud, as he sways into Steve’s space, grin too bright. “Please, be merciful, there are nerds present.”

“Yeah, well, when aren’t there?” Steve asks, low and dry. He bumps his shoulder against Eddie’s, gratitude obvious.

“I am not a nerd!” Erica protests loudly.

“You’re joking, right?” Dustin rolls his eyes. “We’ve been over this, Erica Sinclair. You are as nerdy as they come.”

It’s a little uncanny, because the amused but fond look Dustin pins her with almost perfectly mirrors the way Eddie has seen Steve look at Dustin himself, the way Eddie suspects he also sometimes looks at the kid.

“Plus, some of us? Are jocks and nerds, thank you very much,” Lucas says, swiveling around to Erica’s other side and shooting her a pointed look.

“Yeah, turns out Lucas isn’t too cool for the rest of us,” Max teases, eyes crinkling at the corners as she knocks her shoulder into his.

“That’s true,” Erica agrees, hands on her hips in a way that reminds Eddie, hysterically enough, of Harrington. “You’ve always been the one who’s way too cool for my brother, not the other way around.”

As their bickering continues, Steve catches Eddie’s eyes again, mouthing a quick Thank you while they’re all too distracted to see.

Nancy and Robin both look a little heartened, too, by the familiar sounds of the kids arguing, their rigid edges softening.

“Nine has long since past, so you know what that means–time for bed, kiddos!” Robin interrupts the petty squabbling before it gets entirely out of their control, starting to corral them back on track.

Several groans ring out, but Steve cuts them off with a quick clap of his hands, jumping in right where she left off, their rhythm as fluid as a well-oiled machine.

“Yeah, yeah,” he makes a motioning gesture with one hand, the other firmly planted on his hip, “Come on, you knuckleheads, and get a move on.”

The combined force of Robin and Steve seems, miraculously, to be enough, the younger four members of their little monster-fighting brigade getting into gear to set up their various sleeping arrangements, even as they grumble about it.

“Robin, you’re with me,” Nancy declares simply before turning on her heel and marching from the living room.

Eddie catches the subtle look Steve and Robin share again.

“Better somebody stick close by Nance after…everything,” Steve says quietly, the tightness of his voice making it clear he’s still a bit shaken up.

“I’ve got her,” Robin assures him, giving Steve’s arm a quick squeeze at his grateful nod.

Max clears her throat, then, drawing Eddie’s attention away from the pair as they hunch their heads together and head out of the room, still talking in soft voices.

“Erica can stay in my room. There are sheets and shit in the hall closet for the rest of you,” she directs.

Eddie nods, following her and ignoring the heated game of rock-paper-scissors that’s broken out between Dustin and Lucas to determine which of them is going to claim the couch. As they make their way down the hall, they pass what must be Mrs. Mayfield’s room, catching a quick glimpse of Nancy and Robin beginning to quietly settle in for the night.

Max stops in front of a wooden door, shorter in width than the rest, and yanks it open roughly.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she gestures at the contents inside for Eddie to see.

“Whatever you guys need, take it.” The words are brusque, a cover for the generosity of her statement, the ease with which she’s letting them all into her space, into her home. He’s noticed it to varying degrees with all of them–it feels transparent how much they know and trust each other, the way they’re willing to give up nearly anything to help the others, to help with this entire life-risking hero’s quest they’ve put themselves on.

But Eddie’s the outsider, here, not a member of their little party, the odd man out. So it still feels like he should be especially grateful, every time they extend that willingness to give whatever they’ve got to try and help him.

“Sure thing. Thanks, Red.”

“Night, Eddie,” she murmurs, back already to him, quiet enough he almost doesn’t catch it.

He’s turning to retreat back to the living room, blankets piled up in his arms, when a voice behind him stops him in his tracks.

"Psst! Eddie! Hey, Eddie!" Steve calls at a stage whisper from down the hall, reminiscent of the way he'd called after him in the Upside Down. When Eddie catches his eye, Steve motions with one hand for him to follow. "C'mere."

Eddie drops the stack back in the closet for now and dutifully makes his way towards Steve.

“Yeah, dude. What’s going on?”

Grabbing onto a loose fistful of Eddie’s leather jacket, Steve tugs him into the bathroom in one quick motion, and then shuts the door behind him with a click.

Eddie tries fervently to ignore the thrill that goes up his spine at being manhandled by Harrington.

It shouldn’t come as all that much of a surprise, really, that Steve’s capable of it. Eddie might not know shit about sports, but he did know that Steve was on, like, pretty much every team known to Hawkins back when he was in school. So, of course he can tug Eddie around like a floppy-armed ragdoll.

That said–Steve seems winded from the exertion, after he does it, leaning back to basically slump against the bathroom door. The move serves as a reminder that he’s a little worse for wear, at the moment, despite the fact that he definitely hadn’t showed it earlier. Not while he was busy running around the world hidden beneath their feet.

“Harrington, seriously, man–you doing okay?” Eddie asks, wincing slightly in sympathy pains even as he tries to keep his tone light, conversational.

“Just–give me like…one second here,” Steve holds up a finger for emphasis, the fact that his breathing is still clearly labored not doing much to soothe Eddie’s nerves.

But he does as Steve asks, taking a moment to drink in the sight of him–a check in with absolutely no subconscious ulterior motive, thank you very much.

And, well–Steve is a far cry from the pristine, preppy visage Eddie had gotten used to seeing swaggering around the halls of Hawkins High in his perfectly pressed jeans and popped collar polos. Here, in the lowlighting of the Mayfields’ bathroom, he’s bare-chested–apart from Eddie’s battle vest still slung over his shoulders–skin smudged with Upside Down soot, his sides mottled with angry crimson gashes where the bats had dragged him across rocky ground.

That famous hair of his is still somehow swooping perfectly into place, though. Annoyingly enough, and as fucked up as it probably is…Eddie thinks he manages to be mouth-wateringly hot regardless, whether he’s totally polished under the high school’s harsh fluorescents or mussed and panting beneath the dim orange glow of the single working lightbulb currently flickering above the sink.

He’s gotta admit, though, in his fantasies of Steve Harrington cornering him alone in a bathroom–of which there had been none, obviously, because that would be ridiculous, not to mention colossally stupid–approximately zero of them had panned out like this.

Especially when the next words out of Steve’s mouth are a hurried, “Eddie, man, you, uh–think you can change this bandage for me?”

Eddie's eyes dart down to the scrap of Wheeler’s shirt wrapped around Harrington’s middle, the darkened stain of rust colored blood coating it–and, yeah, shit. Definitely makes sense now, why Steve dragged him in here.

“I’d ask Robin,” Steve is saying, “but, dude, you saw how she got about the rabies, and I really don’t wanna freak her out more than she already is. And Nance–well, after the shit she already went through tonight, I’m not gonna put this on her too. There’s Henderson or Sinclair, I guess, but–”

Steve bites at his bottom lip. And, sure, Eddie’s never been great in school, but he likes to think he can read people pretty well. It doesn’t exactly take a rocket scientis to put the pieces together, especially after the little show they’d put on in the living room–Steve doesn’t want the kids to realize just how badly he’s hurt, and clearly he doesn’t want to burden the girls, either.

Eddie wonders exactly how he should feel about the fact that Harrington’s singled him out as the one he’s willing to let carry some of the responsibility currently weighing on his own broad, more than capable shoulders…and decides to take it as a compliment.

“Harrington,” Eddie cuts him off by clapping a hand gently to his arm, meant to be reassuring, “you don’t have to sell me on it, man. I’ll do it. Happy to help.”

“Oh, okay…good,” Steve’s shoulders slump, like he was expecting to have to put up some kind of a fight. He catches Eddie’s eyes, giving him a quick, almost uncertain half-smile. “That’s–thanks, man.”

Steve moves around him, then, allowing himself to collapse into a sitting position atop the closed toilet with a pained wince.

“Don’t mention it. Uh,” Eddie spins around once in the small space of the bathroom, searching, “has Little Red got…alcohol pads, gauze, shit like that?”

“Under the sink,” Steve pants, one hand clasped against his side, “second door.”

That one simple sentence from Steve is enough to paint a picture in full. Steve’s been in the Mayfields’ trailer. He’s been in it enough times he knows where things like the first aid kit are kept.

Eddie squats down, ducking his head below the counter–and spots it immediately, the slender first aid kit, exactly where Steve had said it would be.

And, sure, Eddie had at least been aware that Steve knew his mouthy little red-headed neighbor. Dustin and the other boys had often regaled him, disbelieving as he might have been, with tales of their incredibly cool babysitter, the former King of Hawkins High. Eddie had even seen Harrington’s infamous BMW parked over here a few times, a sight so surreal he couldn’t help but register it.

But, still–there’s a difference in knowing abstractly and actually seeing the familiarity between Steve and the kids in words and gestures, his importance in their lives taking concrete, undeniable shape.

Like Eddie had told him while they trekked across the woods in the Upside Down–the Steve Harrington of reality? Is nothing like the one he’d pictured all those years they’d shared space in the same halls and classes.

“Seems like you know the lay of the land pretty well,” he can’t help but comment as he tilts his head toward the cabinet.

“Yeah, well, Mayfield wipes out on her skateboard a lot.” Eyes widening, as though he just realized what he said, Steve points in Eddie’s direction. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

Eddie shoots Steve a toothy grin. “You scared of a fourteen year old girl, Harrington?”

“Absolutely,” the corner of Steve’s mouth quirks up into a half smile, “and if you know what’s good for you, you will be, too.”

“Trust me, man–I’ve got a healthy respect for Red’s fearsomeness. Even if I think she’s totally a lot softer than she lets on.”

Steve shakes his head, giving him a rueful smile. “You’re not wrong there.”

Popping open the kit, Eddie surveys their supplies. There’s an assortment of things inside, including an array of bandages in a variety of sizes alongside gauze, scissors, and hospital tape.

“Jackpot.”

Eddie holds up an alcohol wipe, shaking the little white package triumphantly.

“Great,” Steve agrees, though he sounds ragged, eyelids fluttering shut for a brief moment as he sucks in a sharp breath.

“You need me to,” Eddie tilts his chin towards the scrap of fabric wrapped around Steve’s middle, “undo that for you?”

“...Could you?” Steve asks, a flash of hesitance and uncertainty crossing his face.

Eddie isn’t sure if Steve really thinks he might refuse, that he’s overstepping some kind of boundary by asking, or if it’s just costing him immensely to admit he needs the help.

“‘Course I will, man. Absolutely. Said I’d help, didn’t I?”

Steve nods, then stands up, reaching out and gripping the bathroom sink briefly in order to steady himself.

Once he’s up, Steve shrugs out of Eddie’s battle vest. The move puts himself–and that thick pelt of his chest hair over firm pecs, the hard planes of his stomach just above Nancy’s makeshift bandage–on full display…revealing the very physique Eddie had been desperately trying to get him to cover up by tossing him the vest in the first place.

Eddie tries his damnedest not to ogle Harrington’s body too obviously, reminding himself of Steve’s wounds, of the task at hand. The task in which he’ll have to get up close and personal with Steve’s bare stomach.

Jesus Christ. Maybe he’s still in Hell, and climbing out of that impossible, gravity-defying hole in the trailer’s ceiling had actually all been part of some elaborate fantasy.

Eddie squats down in front of Steve, putting himself on eye level with his stomach. He shouldn’t be glad for the stain coating that strip of white fabric, the reminder of blood–he’s not, really, obviously he’s not–but he’s not mad about the fact that the sight is helping his boner just…calm the fuck down. Because now is absolutely not the time, but the wires in his brain can’t help crossing, taking very interested note of the fact that he’s all but kneeling in front of Steve fucking Harrington on a dingy bathroom floor.

As Eddie reaches out for the makeshift bandage, he braces one hand on Steve’s hip to steady himself, his fingers grazing against the unmarred skin just below his wound. That initial brush is enough to have Steve sucking in a sharp breath.

“That hurt?” Eddie asks, spooked as he blinks up at Steve worriedly.

“All good, dude,” Steve shakes his head in answer before tilting it up to the ceiling, hands settling on top of his head.

He grips at his own hair tightly, mussing those luscious waves with the force of his tugs. The move is enough to have Eddie seriously doubting the truth of his denial. He’s got a feeling trying to argue the point, however, would get him absolutely nowhere.

“Just keep going.”

So Eddie does, unwinding the fabric in slow, careful movements, tongue poking unconsciously out from between his lips as he pours all his focus into the task at hand.

He’s just managed to get off the first layer when Steve’s body gives a subtle shift, the only warning Eddie gets before the other boy sways on his feet.

The pair of them let out an alarmed Shit! in unison just before Eddie catches Steve around the waist, careful not to press against his injuries.

“Dude! Holy shit, be careful!” he chides sternly. “You’re not gonna be a damn bit of good to any of us if you collapse on the floor and conk your head on the side of the tub or some shit.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh.

“And what exactly am I supposed to do about that, Eddie?” he asks, sarcasm on full blast as he gestures weakly to his belly, body still pressed close in Eddie’s arms. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not, like…exactly at full fighting shape here.”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, man. Look around,” he thrusts out his free hand in exasperation at the empty bathroom. “It’s just you and me in here. So you can give up the heroic, stiff upper lip shtick for a minute, and just–I don’t know, hold onto my shoulder, or something. Jesus Christ, Harrington, scare a guy to death, why don’t you.”

Steve lets out a huff, but Eddie’s pleased to feel his body loosening beneath his touch, the line of his shoulders no longer so taut and rigid like he’s a warrior who’s about to be called right back onto the battlefield.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, you’re right, you’re right.”

“No shit I am, Harrington,” Eddie reaches over and bops him lightly on the end of the nose, “and don’t you forget it.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Uh-huh. No one likes a smart ass, Eds.”

But Eddie can see the way the corner of his mouth quirks up into a private half smile.

They untangle themselves then, resuming their prior positions. Miraculously, Steve does as instructed, settling a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, large palm warm enough Eddie can feel the heat radiating even through his leather jacket. He really hopes that’s not a sign Steve’s running some kind of infection induced fever.

So Eddie returns to the task at hand, peeling back the last scraps of Wheeler’s shirt, he and Steve grimacing in unison at the way it tries to stick steadfast to his skin.

With the wound finally free, Eddie hisses in sympathy as his eyes dart all over the bite marks beginning to scab across Steve’s stomach. They look raw and angry, bright red where all the skin has been scraped off or gnawed through. He’s seen his fair share of cuts and bruises, from brawls at the Hideout to scuffles at school, but nothing quite like this.

"Shit, man. We could really use a Healer right about now."

Steve lets out a wry little noise of agreement, understanding enough.

“Guess that’s gotta be you, Munson,” he says, giving Eddie a jocular, almost apologetic pat on the shoulder.

Eddie can’t stop himself from shaking his head, because Christ, this guy–all heroic, death-defying stunts and sarcastic comebacks one minute, and then big, sympathetic puppy dog eyes the next. He kinda can’t believe he’s even real, let alone that this is what the Steve Harrington is like.

Scrambling to cover up how awe-stricken he’s suddenly feeling, Eddie shoots Steve a smirk as he quips, "Admit it, Harrington. You just wanna see how I'd look in the skirt."

Idiot, Eddie mentally berates himself, posture stiffening the second the words leave his mouth. Just because you’re a sixth year senior, that’s no excuse to be a fucking moron, do not flirt with the former jock King of Hawkins High.

After all, just because he's hurt…that doesn't mean he couldn't break Eddie clean in half if he wanted to, and flirting with a straight guy is practically a one-way ticket to just that.

So shock hits Eddie with all the force of an ice cold bucket of water dumped over his head when Steve simply huffs out a laugh, good-natured.

"You caught me," he sticks up his hands, like he's surrendering in a hold-up. "That's been my real plan all along."

For once, Eddie’s too flustered to speak, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he feels the distinct heat from a blush spreading up his neck, splotching his face and ears.

There’s a playful glint in Steve’s eyes, then, like he smells blood in the water. It’s nice, after everything that’s happened this evening, to see them shine with something other than the foggy glaze of pain.

“Oh, seriously, did I catch you off guard with that one for a change?” Steve leans a little closer into Eddie’s space, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smirk. “What is it, Munson, cat got your tongue?”

Eddie finally recovers enough to shake his head and quip, “Can’t turn off that infamous Harrington charm for even a second, can you, Stevie? Bleeding all over the place, and you’ve still got it.”

“Well, how do you think I get all the nurses at Hawkins General to take such good care of me when I end up there?” Steve shoots him a wink, being distressingly glib, in Eddie’s humble opinion, about the multiple trips to the ER he’s apparently got under his belt. “A little charm goes a long way, Eds.”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah, so they tell me.”

“Come on, man,” Steve waves a dismissive hand at him. “You’d know all about it.”

Embarrassingly enough, the mere suggestion that Steve Harrington finds him charming makes Eddie’s cheeks go even pinker.

He clears his throat, soldiering on quite valiantly, if you ask him.

“Well, uh…Nurse Munson’s on duty tonight, and, in my totally accurate medical opinion, we need to get those scrapes cleaned up asap, big boy. No more dalliances,” Eddie wags a finger in his face, “and then I’ll think about letting you earn back your lollipop at the end.”

Steve laughs again. “Yeah, well, no way in hell I’m gonna miss out on that.”

But he stills dutifully, like he really is serious about being the model patient, earning back his treat.

As he starts tearing open the alcohol pad, prepping for the next part, Eddie can’t help but shoot him a sympathetic look.

“Harrington–sorry, dude. This is probably gonna sting like a bitch.”

Steve’s grip, where his hand has settled back on Eddie’s shoulder, tightens, but Eddie refuses to shrug him away. As Steve nods his head, Eddie can see the way he’s clenching his teeth.

“Just…try to make it quick, yeah? Lickety split.”

Eddie’s lips twitch in amusement from the dorky turn of phrase, yet another layer to Steve Harrington he finds irresistibly endearing.

But he promises just the same. “You got it. Fast as lighting, that’s me.”

Keeping his swipes gentle, Eddie begins to clean the wounds gouged into his sides. Almost instantly, he can see sweat beading on Steve’s brow.

It feels kind of like a parody, of the handful of times Eddie had attended gym class, found his eyes lingering despite himself on Harrington’s glistening, Adonis-like form. Something inside him stirs, deep into caretaking mode, compelled to wipe the dampness away.

He resists the urge, but just barely. And since there’s not much else he can do for the pain, Eddie figures conversation makes as good a distraction as any.

“You know, I thought Dustin was full of shit before, but–you’re, uh. Totally babysitter extraordinaire, aren’t ya, Harrington?”

“For all the good it does me,” Steve lets out a huff that’s at once amused and exasperated, and the sound is music to Eddie’s ears, breaking up the short, pained breaths from before. “Those little shitheads are total pains in my ass–but, I mean, somebody’s gotta keep ‘em alive, you know?”

“And that’s gonna be you, huh?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow up at him as he continues rubbing circles into his skin, doing his best to clean the gore and muck from the stretches that remain uninjured.

Talking is helping distract him, too. Sure, he had patched up his dad as a kid, after a few jobs gone wrong, but, still–nothing that really held a candle to this. The less he thinks about the raw wounds spread out in front of him, the ones Steve is trusting him to help with, the better.

In honor of that, Eddie lets out a whistle. “Steeeeeve Harrington, big damn hero. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Shut up, man,” Steve complains, and even though the lighting is low, Eddie would swear there’s a pink tinge staining his cheeks, “it’s not that big a deal.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear Steven. It absolutely is. Total paladin behavior, in fact.”

The little confused furrow that appears between Steve's eyebrows is ridiculously cute. Eddie isn't sure how disgusted he should be with himself for what a lovesick thought that is.

"...Pala-what?"

“They’re like knights, basically. The D&D version. Championing a cause, protecting the weak and defending the innocent, restoring good to the lands. That sorta thing.”

Steve gives a short nod of understanding, his mouth forming a perfectly shaped oh.

“I’d say the shoe–or, you know, armor, whatever–fits.” Still meticulous in his strokes with the pad, Eddie finds himself rambling. “Diving into that lake to protect the rest of us? That’s paladin 101, man. True heroic shit.”

“I mean…it’s really not.” Steve shrugs ever so slightly, his lips tugging down into a small frown. “It’s what I’m good for, you know? Nance and Robin–hell, even the kids–they’ve got the brains part of this operation covered. They need somebody around to just…take the risks so they don’t have to.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up immediately at the implications of Steve’s words.

“Well, well, will you look at that? Now who needs to cut himself a break?” Eddie asks, echoing what Steve said to him back in the Upside Down.

“Just the facts,” Steve says with a wan smile–parroting the phrase Eddie’s heard the youngest Sinclair use on the boys after she’s thrown out a particularly cutting remark, and not even having the decency to look bitter about it.

Eddie shakes his head, vehement. “That sounds like a crock of bullshit to me, Harrington. Don’t sell yourself short, not like that. You’re a badass, sure, no two ways about it–but those kids, out there? They’d be fucking…lost without you, man. Hell, when Buckley realized you’d gotten hurt? Looked like she was hanging on by a thread. They need you.”

I need you, Eddie thinks, but can’t quite say it, his throat constricting anxiously around the words. Still, he catches Steve’s eyes deliberately, willing him to catch his full meaning.

Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth to chew at it, Steve ducks his face for a second, dodging Eddie’s look. When he speaks again, it’s quiet but no less sincere.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie answers immediately, a smile breaking out across his face. “I mean, what’re friends for? You’d do the same for me–already have, even.”

“Oh, so you’re saying we’re friends now, Munson?” Steve crinkles his nose in amusement, inviting Eddie in on the joke.

“Well, I mean…hell pretty much has frozen over,” Eddie replies, playing along easily. “Besides, who else but us is there to band together, give Dustin a hard time so his head doesn’t get any bigger than it already has?”

Steve inclines his head, smile amused, soft. It’s a beautiful sight, one Eddie could get used to seeing.

“Can’t argue with that.”

As Eddie finally finishes up cleaning the last of the scrapes and bite marks, he can feel Steve’s eyes on him, following his movements.

“You know, you’re not half bad at this,” Steve observes thoughtfully.

Discarding the last of the alcohol pads, Eddie gives Steve a cordial half bow. “Why thank you, my liege. That’s high praise indeed coming from the king himself.”

“Never mind, I take it back. Your bedside manner sucks,” Steve says, deadpan, rolling his eyes. Then, he jabs a finger in Eddie’s direction, “And don’t call me that.”

“Guess you’re just gonna have to report me to the doctor on the floor, then…your royal highness.”

As Steve reaches out to shove his shoulder, Eddie lets out a delighted cackle, dancing just beyond his reach.

“Strike what I said earlier, too. There’s no friendship bracelet in your future, dude, not with that attitude.”

Eddie lays a palm over his heart, gasping like he’s been hit.

“Not the friendship bracelets, Stevie! What have I done to deserve such a cruel and unusual punishment? And after I helped heal your wounds, too.”

“Yeah, well, the job’s only half done on that front, Nurse Eddie. Better get back to it, and then I’ll think about letting you earn back your friendship bracelet. Maybe,” Steve says, mimicking Eddie’s ultimatum from earlier. “And you’d be missing out, too, dude. Just ask Robin, I come up with the absolute coolest designs.”

“Challenge accepted, Stevie boy. Prepare to witness the best bandaging you’ve seen since Boris Karloff’s The Mummy.”

Steve’s lips twitch, like he’s trying to bite back his smile. “Thought you were trying to keep me alive, Munson, not turn me into a Halloween decoration.”

Eddie clucks his tongue. “Such limited imagination, Harrington. I assure you–I can do both.”

Gauze from the first kit at the ready, he gets right to work unspooling it, giving himself a suitable enough length to get started with ease.

Now that they’ve managed to jump over that first major hurdle and Steve’s injuries have been thoroughly cleaned, the full magnitude of the situation hits Eddie all at once. A wave of tiredness, bone deep, rolls over him as he presses that first layer of gauze against Steve’s side, and he can’t help but say, “This whole thing is–completely and utterly batshit insane. You realize that, right?”

Steve’s got his arms raised over his head, now, but the slight tilt of his eyebrow might as well be a shrug as he looks down at Eddie, the quirk of his lips apologetic.

“You kinda get used to it, after a while.”

“Get used to it? Jesus Christ–” Eddie groans in disbelief even while he keeps his fingers steady, holding the gauze carefully in place as he continues wrapping it around Steve’s stomach. “Don’t say that kinda shit to me, man.”

“Sorry.” Steve has the decency to look chastened, though not nearly as apologetic as Eddie thinks he should.

“Like, sure, okay–dark wizards and magic, that’s great for D&D. But in real life? Kinda prefer that the evil alternate dimensions didn’t eat a hole in the ceiling of my uncle’s trailer, you know? Some of us need a place to live.”

Eddie’s practically hugging Steve around the waist by the time he’s stopped talking, ready to secure his handiwork. There’s a bizarre kind of intimacy to it, Steve warm and solid in his hold, and Eddie wonders if Steve can feel it too when he glances up at him, silent communication passing between them that has Steve ripping off a long strip of medical tape and handing it down without having to be asked.

So, needless to say, Eddie’s a bit distracted, finishing off the job and giving everything one final assessment, when Steve breaks the silence with two totally nonsensical words.

“...the pool.”

Eddie blinks, startled enough he straightens up and gives Steve a full once over, wondering for a moment if the bats had gone for his head, too, without them being any the wiser.

“Wait–what?”

“The pool, at my place,” Steve trucks on, that determined clench to his jaw. Not from pain, this time, but something else. “That’s what it was–well, is–for me. The place, where the demogorgon attacked. It took Barbara–Holland? Nancy’s best friend. The first night that we…”

He trails off with a shake of his head.

“Well, anyway. It doesn’t matter. I’m just saying, I get it. Maybe not to the level of, you know, having your whole goddamn ceiling ripped out, but–the Upside Down, all this shit. It takes things from us. All of us. And I’m sorry it happened to you, too, but…at least you’re not alone?”

Eddie gnaws on his bottom lip as he looks at Steve, watching the other teen wince. Like he just knows it’s not enough.

But the thing is…it is. Steve has to know that it is.

“To be honest, I think that’s the only thing that’s keeping me from just, I don’t know–shattering into a million little pieces, or something,” Eddie admits. “The fact that you guys–”

Embarrassingly enough, his throat constricts, for a second, choking off his words.

“...that you’re here. With me. Especially Buckley and Wheeler and Little Red–even Lucas, after I was such a shit to him…and you. I mean, you don’t even know me, not really, and the whole rest of the town is practically lined up outside with Carver, holding pitchforks…but not you. Pretty damn sure I’d never have even made it this far without that.”

Steve clasps his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“We’re not going anywhere, man,” he promises, gaze steady, hazel eyes so serious Eddie doesn’t dare doubt him. “We’ve got this. We’ve got you.”

Eddie takes a chance, settles his hand on top of Steve’s, gives it a squeeze in return.

“I’ve got you, too. You know?”

Steve gives a little nod, his smile warm enough to light up his entire face.

“I know you do, man. I know.”

And, for a second, looking back at Steve, the hope floods in, and Eddie lets himself believe it. That, with this merry band of misfit monster hunters standing behind him, there’s no choice–it’ll all turn out alright, in the end.

—

By the time they make it back to the living room–“decent” again, Steve having immediately shrugged Eddie’s battle jacket back on over his now freshly wrapped bandages, the sight of which had made something in Eddie’s chest immediately flutter–Lucas is settling down on the couch with a patchwork quilt while Dustin bemoans his fate, loudly, as he piles blankets onto the floor in something that’s steadily resembling a nest. Eddie guesses, when he didn’t immediately come back, the pair of them must have gone on their own journey to raid the Mayfield’s linen closet.

“We said best of ten,” Lucas is saying with a sigh, the picture of put-upon patience, “not my fault you suck at rock-paper-scissors.”

“It’s a game of chance!” Dustin squawks in protest. “There’s absolutely no skill involved. How can I ‘suck’ at some bullshit game that requires no strategy.”

Lucas shrugs, unperturbed. “You tell me.”

The noise Dustin lets out makes it clear he’s gearing up for a continued argument–when Steve drops a hand on his head, distracting him with a noogie.

“No one likes a sore loser, Henderson.”

“I am not a sore loser!” Dustin huffs, arms crossed over his chest and lip jutting out in something that dangerously resembles a pout.

“Au contraire, my dear friend. You’re right about that, you’re not a sore loser. You are, in fact…” Eddie holds up a single finger, Dustin’s face brightening in that moment’s worth of anticipation, “the sorest of losers.”

The blue streak Dustin swears up is worth it for both Lucas and Steve’s guffawing laugh.

He continues muttering to himself, low-voiced and difficult to make out apart from something that sounds distinctly like traitors in my midst, as he somewhat viciously tosses more quilts onto the ground.

“Gimme that,” Steve says without heat, taking several blankets from Dustin’s hands and spreading them out, laying a solid foundation for a pallet that he quickly uses the others to build upon. “Now, come on, man, quit complaining and just…lie down.”

Given the fuss Dustin’s been kicking up, Eddie can’t help but be impressed that Steve’s instruction is enough to actually get him to comply. The powers of babysitter persuasion strike yet again, it seems.

Or, at least…half as he’s told, since settling onto the pallet still offers plenty of back talk on Dustin’s part.

“I can’t believe this. My theories turn out to be correct all damn night, and still I get relegated to sleeping on the carpet. How is that fair?!” Dustin huffs.

From his position on the couch, Lucas’s only answer is to snort, shaking his head.

Hand on his hip, Steve cocks a single eyebrow, shooting Dustin the driest of looks. There’s something deeply wrong with Eddie, he’s pretty sure, that he finds the whole thing painfully attractive.

"Dustin, man, it’s not a competition. Besides…beats the floor of a Russian elevator," he comments, and Eddie has no idea what the hell that is supposed to mean.

Dustin tilts his head from side to side, as though considering. Reluctantly, he says, "...Agreed."

Nodding, seemingly satisfied, Steve lays down on one side of Dustin. Eddie does the same, following suit until they’re bracketing him like a pair of parentheses. A warmth settles over Eddie, pleasant and bone-deep, as he tilts his face to catch Steve’s eyes, staring back at him from over the top of Dustin’s head.

"Scoot over, dude. Eddie doesn't want your pointy ass elbows digging into him." Steve nudges Dustin in the side, causing the younger teen to readjust with a minimal amount of grumbling. To Eddie he says, sotto, "Trust me, man, I know. Those things are like daggers or something, I swear."

“Are not,” Dustin protests, though the words sound drowsy, his eyes having already drifted shut despite all the protests about how uncomfortable he’d been.

“Are too,” Steve volley backs effortlessly. Eddie catches the look he’s giving the kid, though, and it can only be described as fond amusement.

“Thanks for the warning, kind sir,” Eddie gives Steve a mock salute, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I’ll be on the lookout for those deadly weapons being brandished in the night.”

“Can’t believe…ganging up on me…” Dustin murmurs, the last word trailing off as his breathing begins to even out.

“You’re the one who wanted to introduce us, dude,” Steve argues softly, though it’s clear his words have fallen on sleeping ears. To Eddie he says, voice a whisper, “You believe this kid? The arguing never stops, man, even in his sleep.”

“I know,” Eddie whispers back, parroting back Steve’s own words in the Upside Down, and the pair of them share a pleased, knowing grin.

And it’s comforting, the thought that sweeps through Eddie’s mind once he’s settled enough to start drifting off, Dustin’s snoring soft between them, Steve only an arm’s length away.

They’ve got Henderson. And as for Eddie himself?

Well…Harrington’s got him.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #henderfam #henderdads #the party #brotp: babysitter's club #buckington besties #my writing #my stuff #my things #missing scene fic #fellas is it gay to gently clean another man's wounds? you decide

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teddybeartoji · 28 days

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in my head megumi is 100% a judoka, right? but it's important to me that you all know that he's the one that said he wanted to do it and that toji was a bit unsure about it at first. of course, the idea of his son doing martial arts just like him made him happy, more than happy even, but at the same time... there was a part of him that was a little afraid.

he didn't train like hell out of desire, but out of necessity. his life was cruel and so awfully far from good, that the mere idea of his son doing something even remotely close to what he had to endure was scary. and stupid.

toji always knew that he would never treat either of his kids the way he was treated. never. so the fear was always rather irrational. but that didn't make it disappear; he just wanted to keep his kids, his little blessings, away from his past in any way he could.

but megumi has always been a determined kid. very honest, and curious. so when his dad seemed to question his interest in judo, he couldn't help but bombard him with a million why's.

pulling at his dad's cheeks as toji held him in his arms, the older man sighed with a faint smile. the more the young boy kept going about how toji does it too, so why can't he, and about how cool it is. about how he wants to be able to protect his older sister. it was just impossible for toji to say no.

it's going to be different.

megumi isn't toji and toji isn't his dad. it'll be okay.

and so, he finds a place and buys him his first gi and walks him, hand in hand, to his practice. he would never admit how nervous he was, way more than the boy standing by him, clinging to his side as they both stared at the big training hall. what if the coach is some horrible prick? what if she's some mean old-school lady, who would never be affected by a child's cry?

toji had never been one to worry so much – he wasn't this stuck in his head when he dropped tsumiki off at her first soccer practice either, but the sight of the mats and all the equipment, the sight of kids all sat in front of the trainer just brought up some forced down memories.

oh, and how he hates feeling like this. it's not the first time he's seen mats and training equipment, he goes to a gym almost on a daily basis for fuck's sake, so why does he suddenly feel like that beaten little boy again. why does he feel like—

"dad?"

toji feels this ridiculous fear inside him fade, the feelings that want to bubble up die down in his throat at the sight of big curious eyes and small hands clinging onto the sleeve of his hoodie. his boy. loved and cherished, ready to learn something new. he takes importance over everything.

so, toji clears his throat and gives megumi's hand a squeeze while flashing him his infamous teasing grin to let the boy know that he's there with him. always. "ready?"

an excited nod.

the coach said that toji could stay and watch and that's exactly what he does. sat on the sideline, he observes how gumi sits there on his knees, ears perked up like the trainer before him is telling him the most interesting story in the world. toji cracks a smile.

the trainer is nothing like he feared; not mean, not evil, not cruel but very enthusiastic instead. they're pulling little laughs and giggles from the kids with their antics as they introduce themselves and the sport itself. it's nothing that toji ever went through and he's glad.

he's glad when megumi steals a glance over his shoulder and meets toji's fond gaze. he's glad when he spots that faint smile on megumi's lips.

it will be different.

he's not sitting there because he has to, because he's forced to do so but because he wants to do it. it'll be different because megumi wants to be like his dad, he wants to protect his sister. it'll be different because megumi thinks it's fun, and that it's cool.

it will be different because toji loves him.

+ you can find more of little judoka megumi here!!

#sorry i'm genuinely so ill abt them #they mean the world to me:((((((((((#toji #gumi #wtf mickey can write #megumi drabble #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro drabble #toji drabble #toji fushiguro drabble #jjk toji #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen

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livwritesstuff · 9 months

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I definitely think that former rich kid-Steve knows how to ski, and when he and Eddie move to New England in their late twenties, he gets into it again.

Eddie, on the other hand, is not a skier. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He let Steve drag him onto the mountain once, and that was way more than enough for him.

Years later, when they have kids that they're supposed to be enrolling in sports (to become "well-rounded human beings" or whatever), Steve signs them up for skiing "just to see how it goes", and much to Eddie's chagrin, they love it, so every weekend from November through February, the Harrington family can be found at their local mountain.

Eddie joins the trip to the mountain every weekend purely for child-wrangling purposes because, seriously, three kids five-and-under is no fucking joke. His favorite part of their ski days is the conversation Steve has to have with Moe, their half-feral menace of a five-year-old, before they hit the slopes.

"Okay, no running into anyone," Steve says as he adjusts Moe's bright pink ski helmet, "Last week you were bowling people over left, right, and center."

Eddie has to hold in a snort, because it's true. The second Moe got the hang of skiing she'd made it her mission to figure out just how fast she could barrel down the mountain. To hell with the other skiers.

"Can you make some big turns today, Moe?" Steve asks, and Eddie watches Moe give her dad some major side-eye.

"Maybe," she says, her tone suggesting she wouldn't be doing any such thing.

So Moe and Steve hit the big hill and Eddie drops three-year-old Robbie off at her lesson on the bunny slope and then he gets to spend the rest of the day in the warmth of the ski lodge with baby Hazel, watching out the window as Steve makes every attempt to prevent Moe from careening straight down the mountain.

"I swear – that girl doesn't feel fear," Steve says later when he finally manages to drag Moe into the lodge for lunch, "You see it, right? She's gonna kill someone if she keeps skiing like that."

"Hey this was all you, man," Eddie shakes his head, "At least we know we can't ever sign her up for hockey."

"Jesus Christ – imagine the bloodbath that would be."

#steve's the one guy who's still in great shape even in the winter because he spends every weekend chasing his kindergartner down a mountain #(eddie is not complaining)#steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #subtle dilf-steve bc I couldn't help myself

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babiebom · 4 months

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Would they be a Girl Dad/Mom or Boy Dad/Mom

A/N: just know that this isn’t the weird incest-y thing that people have going on (the boy moms saying that no girl would ever compare to them when talking about their sons dating stuff) this is just what vibes they give off!! The is completely ignoring the how many kids they would have thing!!

Tw:cursing? Mentions of a afab partner in bachelors and amab partner in bachelorettes. Some angsty stuff but nothing too bad except for the authors note which mentions incest.

Wc:at least 5 for each!

Stardew Valley Masterlist

Sebastian

Girl dad

He just gives off girl dad energy

Like a daughter would soothe his soul if that makes sense.

Especially because I feel like he would have a daughter that’s exactly like her mother.

He would become softer, and would probably be carrying her everywhere.

Would be the parent that shows up to the school like “WHO TF HAS A PROBLEM WITH MY DAUGHTER?”

Absolutely doesn’t allow her on his motorcycle at all.

Maybe when she’s a little older he’ll get mods to a new motorcycle so she could ride with him but as a baby absolutely not.

She is a daddy’s girl through and through and it makes him happy because he never had a relationship like this with his biological dad nor with Demetrius.

Sam

Girl dad

You will see him teaching his daughter how to skate EVERY DAY

Like dude is a skater boy that’s also a musician.

He definitely has a daughter with her skirt on and some knee pads a helmet and some flannel or something.

And he’s like “okay try again! You’ll get that kick flip eventually.”

And you’re just like “SHES GONNA GET H U R T!!!!”

And he’s like “yeah but she’ll be fine :)”

It’s VERY stressful because he’s a little rough with playing sometimes because he gets too excited but it’s good to have a partner that will push your child like that.

He’s a very good fun dad

Vincent enjoys being an uncle.

Shane

Girl dad

Have you seen how he is with Jas?

Dude is a girl dad all the way!

Would teach his daughter how to take care of the chickens, and would try to teach them proper ways of dealing with their emotions because he doesn’t want her to end up like him.

I could imagine he’s one of those dads where his daughter posts something on a social media platform and gets the “this is no father behavior” or whatever people be saying

And she just makes another video with him standing there and is like ??????? I’m actually close to my dad thanks <3

Like his daughter would be strong but a good person because he would work hard to make sure she’s a person he wishes he could be. But not in a toxic way

More in a you could be and are better than me.

Alex

Definitely a boy dad

I think he gives off the vibes of a dad you see at the park

And you can immediately tell that his child is a boy and when anyone asks him he points to a little boy that looks exactly like him.

They have football days

And it just very much him fixing what he didn’t have with his dad, and giving his son as much love and care as he can.

It’s as if he is getting a do over, but in the form of having a child instead of him going back to being a child.

I can see him and his son in the kitchen with a mess everywhere trying to make you breakfast

He takes him to sports games and goes to all of his kids events at school.

They’re both EXTREMELY loud when doing anything together. It’s just shouts of excitement and joy.

Harvey

Boy dad

I don’t know he gives off that he specifically has a 3 year old son that clings to both of you on any given day.

Like a son with big eyes that can melt anyone’s heart and his hair is always neat.

Son may be a bit of a crybaby ngl but in a cute way. Because both of you allow him to express his feelings in any way he wants to as long as it’s healthy.

Like y’all’s son would be an incredibly sweet boy and so loving and caring towards other people and things.

Harvey has a picture of you and your son as his lock screen on his phone and the clinic computer. And he has a little picture (more like a million) of you three in his wallet.

Elliott

Girl dad

She takes mom’s looks but has his hair.

And also his bone structure.

Gives off Nepo baby vibes and has a big vocabulary bc Elliott would speak to her as if she’s an adult since the day she’s born.

Like yeah he still speaks softly and everything

But he uses adult words bc his kid is going to be smart.

Would be so sweet and would absolutely call her his princess.

Elliott is for sure in charge of bedtime stories and has probably already or has made plans to release a children’s book just for her

She gives him inspiration and a new meaning to his life.

Penny

Boy mom

She just seems like the type of woman to have a son

I imagine him literally either as a newborn with her never putting him down or like a 4 year old playing at the park.

I think he would be similar to her in personality but more like dad in looks.

He’s attached to her and they spend hours reading together because they’re both very into stories.

I think out of all the kids he would be the sweetest.

He’s very soft spoken like she is and she loves that he is (don’t get me wrong if he was loud she would still love him just as much) but she’s seeing all of the traits that she was more insecure about in him and figuring out that maybe it’s nothing to be ashamed of because those traits are lovely in him.

Leah

Boy mom

Like I mentioned in the other post I think she would have one child

And I think this little boy would be so creative it’s crazy

But is also super hyper so all of his art is chaotic but very cool

She probably started doing art with him the second he was born.

She makes a bunch of finger,hand,toe, and footprint art because he’s going to grow quickly and she wants to have something that she can look back on when he’s grown.

He’s encouraged to be messy and I think because of it he learns to clean up his mess quickly

They’re a very smilely duo and she makes sure to encourage him in whatever he wants to do no matter how absurd because no one encouraged her to follow her art dreams and she never wants him to feel like that

But also teaches the importance of accepting failure and continuing to try to achieve his goals.

Emily

Boy mom

Very strange like her but in a good way like her

She lets him express himself in all kinds of ways so he’s very…idk how to explain it

Sometimes off putting to people?

Sort of autism coded ngl

Like has no ability to read the room and very much says what’s on his mind no matter what’s happening

But it’s kinda impossible to get mad at him because he does it in a very nice way?

Probably has his hair dyed some random color that he wanted and everyone gets mad at Emily for it because “HeS a KiD hE cAnT dO tHaT!!!!!!!1!!!”

They’re also super close. But I don’t honestly think any of these bachelor/ettes would have kids just to hate them.

But they have the kind of bond that people usually have with their friends like where you can halfway read their mind and you don’t really have to say full sentences or anything they just get it.

Haley

Girl mom

OOOOOOOOF her daughter is the spitting image of her

Like her daughter knows EXACTLY what she’s going to look like.

Would probably dress her daughter up in expensive clothes and stuff and they’ll have mommy daughter dates where they get their nails done and go to a hair salon and go shopping and have their little drinks.

Her daughter would probably have a popular girl name because Haley would wanna set her up for success.

BUT unlike what people might think I think that Haley would be very…relaxed with her daughter if that makes sense

No almond mom shit

No making her feel bad

No being distant and distracted

Haley sometimes feels abandoned by her parents and I have a headcanon where even though she loves them and they love her they kinda made her feel shitty about certain things

Like her and her mother would get into arguments and her mother would say “I hope you have a daughter just like you so you can see how hard it is to deal with you!”

And after Haley has her daughter she sees that it isn’t really hard to love herself at all. Her daughter is just like her and it’s the easiest thing in the world to love her.

Abigail

Girl mom

I think Abigail would struggle with this at first because y’know I think out of all the bachelorettes she her up with the stereotypical roles in her household and even when she tried to go against it her parents wouldn’t let her

So when she has a girl she panics because what is she supposed to do? And she worries that she’ll be like her parents even though she does love and cherish them.

But as her daughter grows older she’ll relax more especially if her daughter is into video games and adventuring.

I think she would probably take her kid on hikes and stuff. Like she doesn’t really care for exercise but it’s kinda like adventuring going hiking.

So her daughter would grow up with a love for adventure and the outdoors but also with the knowledge that she could be into whatever and her mother will not judge and will always love her

Maru

Boy mom

I don’t know why but I can see her with a Spencer Reid son if that makes sense

A super nerd that’s super cute and lovable and also info dumps and inappropriate times

I think he would be space nerd instead of robot nerd and also maybe a bit of a bug/dinosaur nerd

And she’s like !!!!!! That’s so cool!!!!!!

They just talk for hours and hours infodumping at each other and everyone is like ??? What kind of conversation is that you’re both just taking turns talking for an hour straight???

BUT a difference is that she understands Demetrius’ position but also kinda is annoyed at him for his behavior

Like she would NEVER dream of holding her child back socially because she thinks his academic progress is more important

It kinda made her shit at socializing and she’s kinda grateful to have a partner and son that understand her

She wants him to be well rounded instead of just smart.

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greynatomy · 1 year

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princess

leah williamson x reader

i’ve had this idea for a while, and just now finished it. i don’t really know too much about the royal family, but this is all make believe (shocking right?). i like how this turned out. hope you do too.

let me know what you think!

-grey

———

Princess Y/N Leaves Royal Family

Princess Y/N leaves The Royal Family to “pursue other opportunities” states one of the Royal Family’s secretaries.

This all came as a bit of a shock to the people of England as she was very involved in all of her Royal Family duties.

Once more information comes out, we will be sure to inform you.

———

That was a couple of years ago. It was now 2023, six years after your departure from the Royal Family. No one has seen or heard from you in years, a public sighting every now and then, but that was very rare.

What the public didn’t catch was you in the stands of the Women’s Super League match between Arsenal and Manchester United.

You were sporting an Arsenal jersey with a hat and sunglasses to minimize any recognition even if it’s been a while since having people follow your every move. You had a toddler squirming in his seat, waiting as patiently as he could for the match to start and a eight-month-old strapped to your chest carrier.

The match started a couple minutes ago, but at the eleventh minute mark, Leah Williamson goes down, you quickly jumping up from your seat.

“What happened to Mama?” You son asks you.

“I don’t know sweetie.”

“She ‘kay?”

“Mama’s strong. She okay.”

As she’s getting checks out on the field, you grab your son’s had and make your way to the tunnel, your other hand supporting the back of your sleeping daughter’s head.

You get to the tunnel right as Leah was being helped to make her way into the tunnel. You stay in the back to wait for her, but your son had other ideas.

“Mama! You ‘kay? You hurt?” He asks, frantically, missing the ‘r’ when he says ‘hurt’.

“Cade! Get back here.”

Leah waves you off, saying ‘it’s alright,’ relaxing you a bit.

You go up to her and wrap your arm around her waist, her going around your shoulder to help take some of her weight for her.

Viewers at home are watching with heartbreak to see the captain being subbed off.

“… You know your own body. So the change is made. Williamson is off. Gio is on. And that will necessitate a little reshuffle in terms of the back because Gio is an attacking player…”

———

liked by leahfan1, leahfan2 and 5,937 others

leahupdates idk if it’s just me but doesn’t that person look so much like princess y/n?

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leahfan1 i was just thinking that when i watched it

↳ leahfan2 i had to rewind it but it really does look like the princess

leahfan3 we haven’t seen or heard from princess y/n in years and she pops up on the telly with leah williamson

———

“What did the doctor say?” You ask your wife as she lays in the hospital bed.

“It’s my ACL. They need to do surgery.”

“Oh, baby.” You lift her hand, littering the back of it with kisses, resting it on your cheek after. “When’s the surgery?”

“I wanna do it as soon as possible so in like two days.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Leah puckers her lift, wanting a kiss. You get up from your seat, leaning over her.

“I love you.” She mumbles against your lips, smiling when you say it back.

———

liked by leahfan1, christenpress and 279,634 others

leahwilliamsonn 🤍

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alessiarusso99 ❤️❤️❤️

leahfan7 i hope u have an amazing recovery

leahupdates I KNEW IT! ITS PRINCESS Y/N

↳ leahfan1 leah literally married a princess

↳ leahfan3 AND THEY HAVE KIDS!!!! I REPEAT: THEY HAVE KIDS AJCYDJRNC

↳ leahfan2 my little gay heart👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

leahfan9 this is so CAYUTE. literally no one saw this coming. GET WELL SOON LEAH!❤️

#woso x reader #woso #leah williamson fake instagram #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #greynatomy #woso imagines

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the-guilty-writer · 1 year

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Young (Tennis) Love

Request from anon: So reader(female teenager it's not a problem if she's adopted or not) plays tennis since childhood(ok tennis rules and it's self indulgent)and now there's a big championship in DC and ofc the whole team is there to cheer for her. So she wins and while everyone congratulate her with derek being so proud of his babygirl, her crush comes up to her to congratulate her. They are giggling and slightly flirting with each other while the team watches this interaction stifling their laugh at Derek's shocked reaction. And she explains to them later on and derek makes a mental note to have a "talk" with her.

Derek Morgan x daughter!reader

Summary: After winning a tennis match, your dad, Derek, and his team aren’t the only ones there to congratulate you.

A/N: First, I apologize for this being so overdue. Life has been kicking my ass. Second, I know nothing about tennis, so I hope this is okay. I changed the plot a tiny bit because I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer.

CW: alcohol consumption (it’s Hotch and Rossi. Still sober), the BAU women are the best adoptive aunts, Derek is a protective dad, I think that’s it.

---

Derek Morgan had been shocked when you were five years old and chose tennis out of all the sports in the world. Seriously… why couldn't you have picked basketball (though he would have quit his job and coached you all the way to the WNBA himself) or baseball (he knew enough to get you through high school) or soccer (at least then he could have been a little league coach)? Instead, you picked a sport he, himself, had never cared for.

Truly he only had himself to blame. While in line at the store, he had spent a second too long ogling at Serena Williams on the cover of a sports magazine. He was enchanted. You were enchanted. And the next thing he knew, Derek Morgan was adding a pink children's tennis racket to the cart.

It all payed off though- the classes you took as a kid where all your dad could do was sit on the sidelines, the weekends spent on the court where he tried his best to help but kept messing up, the late-night pick ups after you’d spent hours practicing, the even longer weekends filled with tournaments watching the sport that he eventually learned to appreciate for you - because you were playing in the finals of the east coast championship.

It took every ounce of control your dad had, not to be cheering as loudly for you as possible. He watched you, his baby girl, the same one who had carried around that little pink racket like a teddy bear, prepare to do the most important serve of your life thus far. Penelope sat next to him, holding his arm to keep him from springing forward. JJ and Emily were sitting on either side of Spencer, who was very quietly explaining to them the physics of the game, though neither one of the women were paying attention to him. Hotch and Rossi were sitting back in their seats. They were sipping on some very expensive whiskey that Rossi had snuck in, looking a little too much like they were trying to recreate Wimbledon.

You swung with speed and your opponent couldn’t catch it in time. A double bounce meant another point for you. Derek held his breath, waiting for the umpire to call the score. He was too nervous and excited to remember it himself.

“40-30.” To you. One more point and you’d win the whole thing.

He saw you take in a deep breath before serving, and the game began. You and your opponent wasted no time, getting into the nitty-gritty fast. At one point, you almost missed and Penelope let out a muffled gasp. Still, you went on without getting flustered and came back faster and stronger. All those early morning workouts you had done with your dad were paying off. When your opponent began to tire, you were still light on your feet. The ball came at you at a perfect angle, and you took your chance - sending the ball back at a speed your opponent could no longer handle after going too hard at the beginning. She swung back desperately and it landed out of bounds.

The umpire called the game, with you as the clear winner, and the entire BAU team erupted. Hotch and Rossi got to their feet to clap. Spencer bounced on the balls of his feet with a simple “wooo” as Emily and JJ jumped up more excitedly beside him, cheering with delight. Penelope squealed with joy. And Derek, well… he was cheering too, with happy tears streaming down his smiling face.

You beamed up at him, taking in the biggest moment of your life so far. Every late night and early morning, every party you missed to get in extra practice time, the horrible cardio workouts, and the long days spent training in the summer heat or bone-chilling winters were worth it. Your opponent came over to congratulate you, and you shook her hand politely. Your coach, who was standing by the locker room, ran over to wrap you in a hug and escorted you into the locker room.

“She’s growing up,” Hotch sighed. The rest of the team nodded in agreement, but Derek was still watching where you had disappeared behind the locker room door, his eyes filled with pride.

“Let’s go see your baby girl,” Garcia said, putting a gentle hand on his arm. Derek turned to her with a smile, and a happy tear. She hugged him tight, before they followed the rest of the team out of the stadium.

---

The team stood outside the players’ entrance with the rest of the gathering families. With such a huge event, they were having difficulty tracking you down and in their line of work, they couldn’t help but think of the worst.

“I’m sure she’s fine, Derek,” JJ said, trying to comfort him.

“Yeah yeah… I know…” But Derek could still feel the tension in his chest and hear the panic in his tone. But he wouldn’t relax until he saw you emerge from the crowd. You were looking around for them, trophy in hand and bag slung over your shoulder, scanning the mass amounts of parents talking with their kids in search of your own unconventional little family.

It was Rossi who spotted you first. “Hey! There she is!” He sounded like a proud grandpa.

Your dad smiled brightly and called to you. “Baby girl!”

The sound of your nickname caught your attention and you turned to see the entire team standing there with open arms. A beaming smile spread across your face as you ran over to them. Derek caught you in his arms, spinning you around while the rest of the team clapped and shared their congratulations with you.

“I’m so proud of you,” your dad whispered, on the verge of happy tears.

“Thank you,” you whispered back.

“My turn to hug the little champion!” Garcia squealed with excitement. You received hugs from everyone on the team (including Reid, surprisingly), thanking them for coming to cheer you on.

You’d just finished giving out the last of your thank you embraces when someone called your name. The entire team turned to see a boy standing a little ways away, waving shyly in your direction. Your face heated and you turned to your dad. “I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, taking your bag and trophy from you before watching you walk away.

“What’s that about?” Emily asked.

Derek didn’t bother to answer. He was too busy watching the doe-eyed expression, shy smile, and rather ditzy giggle you had as you talked to the young man. All the signs of young first love.

JJ sighed. “Oh, I remember those days,” she said in a teasing manner. “And if he’s coming to her sports games you know it’s serious.”

Penelope joined them just in time to watch the young man hand you a flower, making your smile brighter.

“Oh!” she cooed. “That is so sweet!”

Emily smirked. “Looks like someone’s in lov-”

“Prentiss,” Derek cut her off. “Don’t.”

The women of the BAU giggled at your dad’s reaction, giving one another knowing looks. In their heads they were already planning a girls night out to ask you about everything. Derek, on the other hand, made a mental note to give you a different kind of talk later.

#derek morgan fanfiction #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x daughter!reader #derek morgan x child!reader #derek morgan x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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buckysgrace · 5 months

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Billy Hargrove Headcanons <3

Requested <3 I hope you enjoy my ramblings!!

Was such a cute baby with lil blonde curls, rosy cheeks and a soft nose that strangers always thought he was a little girl lol

Used to love when his mama would play with his hair. He hated naps as a child, but always passed out once she'd trace her fingertips across his soft cheeks and squishy nose

His mom loved holidays. Especially Halloween and Christmas. He spent many Halloweens dressed as a lion lol

She also took him to get ice cream on his birthdays <3 His favorite was chocolate.

Was really close to his grandma up until she passed away. Used to spend long afternoons and even stay for weekends when he was little, and Neil was working.

Loooooves sports. Has played a vast majority of them (baseball is his favorite). He played a different one each season while in school to get him away from the house

Worked all throughout high school. Had a ton of odd jobs

Also loved summer camp.

Enjoys deep sea fishing. Neil did a lot of trips with him as a sort of “apology” (he caught a bluefin tuna when he was 13 hehe)

He’s very very dry, has a sarcastic sense of humor <3

When he’s high he gets very relaxed and chill, very laid back. Will occasionally get giggly

Very good with his hands. He likes to tinker with things. Worked on his car a lot, likes to build things too (had a very impressive bird house that he built in woodshop)

He loves vegetables. Specifically tomatoes and bell peppers. Bites right into them, a nice lil snack

He's up at 3 in the morning?? He is devouring a jar of pepperoncini. maybe some shredded cheese

Not crazy about sweets, but if he has to pick something it would be some sort of fruit pie?? will also pound away at a pineapple upside down cake

makes a meaaaaan spicy Italian sandwich

Also crazy about protein. He's gotta bulk up ya know. Hates eggs though. They smell terrible and the texture is awful

Really good at math, loves working with numbers. He will chew on his pencil/pen while he's working out a problem (and if he accidentally eats the eraser?? that's his own business smh)

Got a lot of college offers because of his grades and talents in sports but didn't take any of them up. College just never seemed like his thing

Will hike his swimming trunks up to get a nice even tan on his upper thighs. The cutest little tan lines imaginable.

Reads while he sits on the toilet. Also smokes (and will purposely linger in the bathroom if Max knocks on the door smh)

Horror and mystery are his favorite genres. His all time favorite book is The Haunted Dancers.

Surprisingly good with kids. They just love him, sweet Mr. Billy hehe. Babies love at him. They will stare at him and enjoy snuggling into his arms :) And chewing on his arms lmao (or tugging on his hair smh)

Haaates the winter months. He does not like the cold at all and hates bundling up in thick layers even more (he's a man damn it he doesn't need any gloves smh)

Icy roads absolutely terrified him in Hawkins. He was not used to driving on them at all. An incredible snow ball former tho (he will hit you in the face with them rip)

The first time he heard the tornado siren go off he was alone with Max and had no idea what to do (she was outside trying to see it smh)

A little rain is okay but he prefers the sunny sunshine and heat to anything else <3

#billy hargrove #Billy Hargrove Headcannons #Billy Hargrove hc #billy hargrove fanfic #dacre montgomery #stranger things #Billy Hargrove blurb

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schemmentis · 6 months

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Like I Can

Pt. 2 / Pt. 3

Warnings: Angst, I guess?

Word Count: 2.1k

You met Melissa on what she calls her ‘worst night.’ Just finding out her husband had been cheating on her for God knew how long. In emotional overload and perusing her favorite bar for someone to get back at him with. Even though deep down she knew evening the score so to speak wouldn't really make her feel better.

Regardless, it was what she was doing. She'd enlisted you as her wing woman after you'd chatted awhile at the bar while her eyes roamed over the rest of the establishment. She promised she'd snag you a guy too before she left with whomever she decided was worth her night. You'd quietly informed her you weren't looking for any men. She'd only grinned and told you she'd snag you a woman then.

Melissa had kept to her promise. A burly guy that had an arm around her waist by the time she was introducing you to a woman. She slipped you a napkin with her number on it. A glance at it in your hand with a quickly scribbled note to call her and hang up after two rings a few times if your date turned…well, the words she'd used had you stuffing the napkin into your pocket quickly.

You had only smiled and told her to have fun. You hoped she had someone else's number if her date did anything she didn't want that evening. For your part, you spent a drink or two with the woman she'd found you but didn't go home with her. Though she did give you her number too.

When you got home you saved Melissa's number. You threw away your date’s. You really hadn't been interested in a one night stand. It just wasn't your kind of thing. Melissa had a certain charm though, and you needed to make sure she was alright. You left a text with your name and asked her to text you the next morning just to make sure she was okay.

The text you woke up to had plenty of emojis to tell you just how her night went. You were glad she was safe, and even more glad she didn't give you details past the little emojis. You didn't really need the mental image. Though you couldn't help your mind briefly picturing just Melissa in a suggestive flash of day dream that you quickly blinked away.

Without planning on it, from then you and Melissa became good friends. You texted most days about whatever was going on. You had to talk her down plenty of times when Joe pissed her off in the first few months as she tried to, in her words, ‘make it work’. You learned plenty of Italian swearing and unique insults that you're certain only Melissa could have come up with.

She ended up on your doorstep late one night. Disheveled in a way that was so unlike Melissa. Someone who planned her outfits meticulously and took pride in her appearance. Her eyes were red and swollen as she told you she and Joe were getting divorced. You pulled her into your living room with no hesitation.

You might have met Melissa on her worst night but by now you knew her quite well. It broke your heart for her to hear about the divorce. You knew despite how much she'd been hurt by Joe and did what she could to make him feel the same in return; she did love him.

The thing about Melissa was she didn't love halfway. She loved the Eagles like they were the only sports team that existed and if you asked she'd tell you they were the only ones that mattered anyhow. She loved the kids she taught like each one was her very own. She loved her family ferociously even when they annoyed her. Including her sister that she claimed to hate.

You never said it to her but you're pretty sure Melissa wasn't capable of hating anything. This thought only reinforced the night you'd held her while she wept on your couch. Her hands clutching your shirt in an iron grip to keep you close. Empty promises about making Joe regret ever meeting her and cursing him in every way she knew how. Because even with everything that had happened between them she loved him.

You were there for her however you could be, as much as you could be. You helped her move Joe’s things out of the house once they'd decided she'd keep it. You went shopping with her when she decided she needed to redecorate the entire house. You spent a weekend painting the living room and bedroom. When you asked if she wanted to do anything with the kitchen she'd asked if you were crazy.

It wasn't until a week later you realized the only places in her house that had been redone were shared spaces. You knew how Melissa loved to cook. You'd had your share of the too large portions she had a habit of making and gave you parts of. Joe probably never had much to do with the kitchen.

You do your best to keep her from making hasty decisions. Ones made in the heat of her emotions. Like the evening you'd both been drinking and she said she was gonna go to Joe's apartment and wreck his car with her baseball bat. She’d made it as far as standing in her living room, bat in hand and barefoot in pajamas. You at least got her to laugh when you said you didn't have the money to bail her out when she got arrested.

You have less convincing arguments when she goes searching for one night stands. She convinces you to be her wing woman again. Her good luck charm she called you. You only entertained this once or twice. It was surprisingly difficult for you to see her this way. Even though it was how you met.

You felt something deep and cutting in your stomach every time you went with her. Every time you watched her flirting with men. Every time she would wiggle her fingers at you in a wave goodbye with a wink and smile over her shoulder as she left the bar with a different man.

The last time you'd gone with her you'd ended up drinking until you passed out at home. Melissa had used your extra key to get in to wake you when you never answered her. Convinced you'd gone home with someone else, just like she thought you had every other time. You'd gotten a lecture about making her think you were murdered over the breakfast she made in your small kitchen.

The next time she tried to get you to go with her; you claimed you weren't handling alcohol so well lately. She'd taken the excuse exactly once. It was difficult each week to come up with a new one that she would buy enough to let go. You managed for a while though.

By the time she met Gary, you'd figured it out. What that stab of pain whenever you watched her flirt or leave for a night with her different dates. You hadn't even noticed it had happened. You never planned on it. Melissa was your closest friend, all you had ever been worried about was being there for her. Apparently somewhere in the process, your heart got a mind of its own and fell for her too.

Somehow, the aching stab with Gary is worse. Now instead of different men's names each week you can never remember, it's Gary's. Instead of begging her to remember you really didn't need the details of her sex life, she's telling you about date nights and sweet conversations. Whenever she tells you about what she did while you were apart you don't have to ask who she went with. It's Gary.

You meet him. Of course you do. Melissa likes him enough that she's seeing him regularly. The first real relationship she's built since Joe. Other than you. You remind yourself you don't count in that way.

Gary is…nice. He's different than the guys you've seen Melissa take home in one night stands. Both in looks and personality. From what little you knew of those men's personalities, anyway. But he makes Melissa laugh, a beautiful laugh you've always smiled to hear. Even if she's gripping his arm while she laughs.

Gary is nice. You'd be okay with him if it weren't for the way every time you see him the knife in your chest twists. For the way every time he calls Melissa his girl or compliments her it turns. You'd even forgive the pause and look when Melissa had corrected him when he asked if you had a boyfriend.

Melissa notices. Your distaste for him. She knows you as well as you know her. She calls you on it after the first time you meet him.

“Ya don't like him.” She said, not asked.

You had shrugged and bought your time by pointing out you didn't really know him to know whether you liked him or not.

The longer she's with him, though, the more she sees how much you don't like him. You try to hide it, of course. You know how much she likes him and you're not going to be petty and dig at one of the first things that's made her so happy since you met her. You do what you can to focus on being happy for her.

At the end of the day, Melissa’s happiness is all you really want. You're okay with the knife dug into your chest, really. If it keeps her this happy.

You don't know if it's her knowing how you feel about Gary, or no longer wanting to put the two of you in the same place, but she introduces you to Barbara. The infamous Barbara Howard that Melissa called her best friend and work wife. You'd heard plenty of her. Even a drunken comment that if Barb wasn't already married and Melissa swung that way she'd make her a Schemmenti. You think she was joking. Mostly.

As you get to know Barbara, you think to yourself she already is a Schemmenti. With the years she and Melissa have known each other and been such good friends, it isn't surprising she knows all the Schemmenti lore. Though, she seems surprised to find that you do too. In the beginning, often you recognize the story she's telling you from when Melissa had and you interject with the ending.

Slowly, you and Barbara form your own friendship. Sometimes, Melissa is entirely absent from your get-togethers. Usually for dates with Gary. If Barbara notes your mood is more sullen those evenings, she does you the grace of not mentioning it.

You realize after a few months that you've seen more of Barbara than you have of Melissa. Most of what you know she's been doing lately is through Barb and not from the red head directly. The knife in your chest pulses around the wound it's made. You miss her. Yet you can't bring yourself to reach out to her yourself. You can't decide which feels worse. Missing Melissa or feeling the stabbing push deeper into you when you do see her.

You do something you never thought you would. You make Barb your wing woman. Like Melissa once did you. She's perfectly willing and you push away the thought of how many times she'd done the same for Melissa. She makes you promise to call her in the morning before you leave with the woman you meet. You actually go home with her. You let yourself forget everything but the drinks you've had and the woman in front of you.

You call Barbara in the morning. Well, late morning. You'd slept a bit too much with the hangover you're now severely feeling. You barely have time to say hello before Barbara is apologizing.

“Sorry for what, Barb?”

“I told Melissa.”

You hesitate. You don't love Melissa knowing you had a one night stand but you don't see why that's a reason for the woman to be apologizing to you.

“Well. She'd have probably found out anyway.” You finally say.

“No,” Barbara says. “I told her I couldn't get a hold of you. She's probably on her way there now.”

“Shit,” You curse. Barbara doesn't even chide you for your language.

Your front door opens so fast it bangs against the wall. You turn to see Melissa standing in your living room with her arms crossing over her chest once she sees you stood in the kitchen.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #like i can

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dira333 · 7 months

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Imagine

You learn of Sakusa Kiyoomi at a sports event. He attracts your interest by answering the insanely dumb questions of interviewers with more than the average intellect required. He's funny. Thoughtful. Way out of your league. You don't get a chance to talk to him.

Your friend is friends with him. Everything she tells you of him makes him look better until you grab another friend and take her to MSBY Game in the wild hopes you might get to talk to him. He's not playing that day.

Months pass. There must be some weird psychological trick working because wherever you go, Sakusa's there. You see his face on the covers of newspapers, hear him or his team mentioned in passing conversations. Your mind is the moon rotating around him.

"Hey," Kuroo stops you in the hallway. "We need a commentator for the event next week. Can you do it?"

"Uh," you hesitate. "Sure, but am I doing it alone?"

"Well, we've got someone covering the first half. You'll do the second half."

"Oh, who is it?"

"Sakusa Kiyoomi, you know him?"

"You've got to be kidding me." The words slip out of your mouth before you can hold them back. Kuroo's eyebrows wander up his temple.

"Do you have a problem with him?" Kuroo asks, half amused, half curious.

"I... I'm not sure. I haven't technically met him yet. But the Universe seems intent on pushing us toward each other."

"Oh, don't worry. You're not his type." Kuroo jokes, turning around when someone calls his name. "I gotta go, okay. If he gives you any trouble, just remember that, okay?"

"O-okay..." You're left behind, blinking as you try to make sense of his words. You're pretty sure he did not call you ugly just now. Kuroo's a good friend, has tried to set you up more than once.

But never with Volleyball Players.

You hesitate, try to fight insecurity raising its ugly head. Your only defense is anger. But not at yourself, or Kuroo, or the Universe for doing its thing. No, you're angry at Sakusa.

Who is he, that he dares to think you're beneath him? He's not attractive anyway. The moles on his forehead look like buttons. What is he, a robot? A computer, ready to be turned on? He's way too lanky for your taste anyway. You prefer your athletes muscular. Like Basketball Players.

You sigh. Who are you kidding?

You're Elizabeth Bennett and he's Mr. Darcy and he just called you barely tolerable.

Well, at least now you'll have no problem facing him next week. After all, he's not your type either.

....

My Kofi if you want to tip me

#my writing #Sakusa x reader #Sakusa Kiyoomi #Sakusa imagine #I love when art imitates life #Lol #This is me #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu

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stay-dazed · 1 year

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stray kids as dads

notes: female reader, and you're married here. so sorry if anything came out repetitive!

chan: chan, as anyone would have expected, is an amazing father, thanks in part to raising 7 other men for a living. you're so happy to see your husband and your son taime bond together over the years, especially over chan's favorite thing - music. he takes taime to the studio fairly regularly, where uncle jisung and changbin are so excited to see him that they barely get any work done. and when chan works from home, taime joins him by sitting on his lap and asking him tons of questions about how all the colorful tabs on his laptop work.

chan patiently answers all his questions, even if he's answered some before. taime's only 7 years old after all, so he doesn't always remember what chan's told him. but he still shows a ton of interest, and always says he wants to grow up to be just like his appa.

chan really is a great dad. he's very patient and always willing to help his child when he needs it, although he doesn't always make problems just go away. he may just try to guide taime through it so he can learn to make good decisions for himself as he grows. he's also very playful with taime. they love to play-wrestle, play various sports together since chan grew up incredibly athletic himself, race each other, and so on.

actually one of chan's favorite ways they race together is when they come home from running an errand or from picking taime up from school, and they run inside to give you a big hug. you just love it when they do that, because it makes you feel so loved and appreciated. the hug may catch you off guard while you're busy working around the house, and it may almost knock you over now and again, but you wouldn't ever miss a hug from your favorite boys.

"okay, buddy, ready to see who can give mom the biggest hug first?"

minho: while minho wasn't initially expecting to be a father, at least not anytime soon, he still became a great dad to your daughter, jimin. she's 3 now and absolutely has minho wrapped around her little finger, though he'd never admit to that. she loves to play dress-up with her appa, adding clips and bows to his hair, messily painting his nails, and putting shaky lip tint onto his lips. and the entire time minho just sits there patiently, smiling at jimin's excited expression and encouraging her with kind words," i'm sure i look very pretty, sweetie. thank you." his face drops if he ever catches you laughing, though.

jimin also loves having lazy days, and minho never argues with that. so on the days he gets off from work, they'll both stay in their pajamas all day, watch cartoons, eat sweets for their meals, and take naps. the lock screen on your phone is actually a photo of them sleeping together; jimin in her little pink pajama set laying on her appa's chest comfortably, a little pigtail in both of their hair.

but what makes minho happiest is watching jimin play with the fuzzy trio - soonie, doongie, and dori. she'll take one of the feather toys and play with them for hours, if they have the energy. and minho could watch the entire time, sipping on his coffee and taking a couple videos. he's just so happy she loves the cats as much as he does.

"jimin baby, look at the camera. hi pretty! can you smile for me?"

changbin: changbin was so ready and so excited to be a father. he just knew he'd be a great dad, with how understanding and good at listening he is. and sure enough, he became a rock for your 4 year old daughter nari. whenever she's crying over things important to her, like spilling her juice or missing her favorite show on pbs, he listens closely to her while wiping her tears away with his thumb. he then reassures her that he understands exactly why she's upset, and that things will be okay. he'll just refill her juice or put on another show she loves.

changbin really is nari's superhero. you can just tell how much she looks up to him already. like the time she accidentally tripped and hit her head against the leg of a chair. she cried and ran to her appa, holding her arms open for changbin to pick her up, which he did immediately. he held her safe against his chest and looked closely at her head to make sure everything was okay. after confirming it just left a bump, he rocked her back and forth, saying softly," it's okay aegi, you'll be okay." you came in from the backyard to see him rocking her in his arms.

she looked up at him with starry eyes, slowly calming down. eventually, she actually fell asleep in his arms, completely forgetting about the pain. you smile as you watch them. changbin is your superhero too.

"let me give it a kiss, aegi. i have magic kisses that'll make it all better."

hyunjin: you could tell just how ecstatic your husband was to have a little baby girl, only a month old now. hyunjin holds joon in his arms as often as he can, without taking her away from your bonding time of course. he has a gentle, adoring look in his eyes as he watches her sleep, all swaddled up and comfy. he'll sit in silence for a bit before expressing a random thought like," she has your nose, love" or "do you think she's dreaming right now? what do babies dream about?"

he's confided in you before about how he's scared, wondering if he'll truly be a good father. but you have so much confidence in him. he's such a patient and loving person, and he's very protective of your little girl. you can see so clearly the happiness he has when doing even the most simple everyday things, like helping you choose her clothes in the morning or buckling her up in her carseat, cooing at her the entire time. and he's especially happy when showing her off to people. he just beams with pride as they also coo over her and say sweet things like," oh she's so beautiful, just like her mama."

it's the greatest when watching the members argue to see who can hold joon first, and who will be the best uncle. you and hyunjin both relax on the couch, leaning against each other and fighting against the fatigue that creeps in after many a sleepless night. you watch chan hold joon, baby-talking to her while jisung looks over his shoulder with the widest smile on his face. joon will be raised surrounded by so much love, and you couldn't be more thankful.

"my mom gifted us the socks she's wearing- changbin make sure you're supporting her head. i know you know, just be careful. she's so fragile."

jisung: jisung was so nervous to become a father, wondering if he could really raise a child. but even then, he couldn't hide his very obvious excitement. he couldn't believe he'd have a son of his own that would look up to him, just like he had his dad. and junseo, now 2, is truly the light of his life. besides you of course. though the both of you learn through trial and error, just as all first-time parents do, jisung is still the perfect father in your eyes.

he's patient and loving, and lots of fun. your son can be heard giggling all throughout the day as jisung plays with him, or tickles him just to hear that happy sound. he does the exact same thing in public. anything silly to make his baby boy laugh, even if people may look at him weird. you can tell jisung's anxiety, while not completely gone, has decreased significantly since becoming more confident as a father. he's not nervous ordering for his family at restaurants, or taking junseo to his doctor appointments on his own when you're busy visiting a friend.

he still panics inside just a little whenever junseo gets hurt or catches a cold, but he's fantastic at remaining calm and patching him up. he'll carefully clean the owie, put a bandaid on it, and give it a kiss to make it feel better. and he takes time to learn recipes from his mom that help battle a cold. jisung is growing so much and you couldn't be more proud of him.

like chan, he takes his son to the studio with him in order to raise him around music. though it's a little more difficult to concentrate than in chan's case, since junseo is really young and needs more attention to avoid getting himself into trouble (which he gets from jisung, let's be honest.)

"hey junseo, jagi, could you please not climb on appa's chair? thank you. wait- no no, don't pull those wires!"

felix: felix knew since he was in highschool that he wanted to be a father, especially of a daughter. the thought of having his own little girl had always appealed to him, making his heart feel warm. and after a long and complicated birth process that occurred a month early, you both welcomed your son theo into the world. felix could do nothing but hold his tiny miracle baby, his teddy, in his arms and cry happy tears as you recovered in bed.

now theo's 5 years old and while he's smaller than other boys his age, he's still a little spitfire with enough energy and curiosity to last him a lifetime. and felix is still absolutely head over heels for him. on his days off, felix spends time with theo by watching cartoons with him, dancing to music with him (usually stray kids), and baking with him, which often leads to some messy outcome. but at least they're really cute while doing it.

felix is a great father, so gentle and amazing at teaching. the moments you catch them in make your heart swell with happiness and gratitude. for example, the time you were looking out the kitchen window as you did the dishes, and you saw felix showing theo a bug outside, encouraging him to always be curious about the world around him.

or like right now. 8:00, theo's bedtime before starting his first day at kindergarten tomorrow. you find felix holding him safely in his arms, telling him a story in korean that his mom used to tell when he was theo's age. it's sentimental, as well as teaching theo to appreciate the cultures coming from both his parents. felix, just like you, is nervous about sending his baby to school tomorrow, but you know they'll both be just fine.

"okay teddy bear, time to go to sleep. you have a big day tomorrow. i love you so much, son."

seungmin: similar to minho, seungmin never expected to be a father. like at all in his entire life. but when it happened unexpectedly, he was supported by his family and closest friends. in time, he began to developed more confidence in himself. and as each day with his little girl chin-sun passed by, seungmin was filled with more and more love and comfort. chin-sun brought him comfort.

and she still does to this day, as she grows closer to turning 3 years old. you can see the comfort seungmin feels in the way he picks up your little girl to spin her around, or the way he lets her wear his shirt after bathtime even though it's the size of a tent on her. the way he kisses her forehead every night after she falls asleep, and the way he sings to her every day.

like right now. it's time for dinner, which means cleanup time in chin-sun's play room, and you can hear seungmin singing. it's a little distant over the bubbling of the food on the stovetop, but you know it by heart and hum along anyway. it's called "the cleanup" song. seungmin made it up himself to encourage your little girl to have fun while doing things she's supposed to do. there's also songs for bathtime, bedtime, driving to grandma's house, etc. it's incredibly creative, and one of the cutest things you've ever seen your husband do.

people who don't genuinely know seungmin may find him blunt or standoffish, but you know how he really is. he becomes a better dad every day, if that's even possible, and he'd do absolutely anything for his two favorite girls.

"okay silly, let's go eat. you did a good job cleaning up! did you have fun singing with appa?"

jeongin: jeongin honestly never put much thought into kids and if he wanted them. but the day you announced you were pregnant, he was filled with determination to take very good care of his wife and child. he worked so hard right off the bat, reading books on pregnancy and birthing, and calling his dad to ask for advice on being one himself. the farther along you got in your pregnancy, the more protective jeongin became over you. all he wanted was for you to relax and stay safe.

and the day your son haneul came along, jeongin was beaming with pride. he told you multiple times how thankful he was to you for providing him with something so precious. that night in the hospital, where you were kept until morning just to be safe, jeongin again promised himself to be the best father and husband he could ever be, before dozing off in a rickety chair placed next to your bed.

now, a year later, haneul is one happy little boy. always smiling and giggling, and he absolutely loves giving people hugs and kisses. jeongin was never the overly affectionate type, but now all he loves to do is give his son hugs and kisses. his uncles absolutely adore it as well and are eager to babysit him whenever possible. simply put, haneul just has a way of making everyone around him happy.

you're filled with joy every time you see your husband spend happy moments with your boy. moments such as jeongin picking little designer shoes for hanuel's outfits, or patiently letting haneul climb all over him as he sits on the couch. it's so sweet to see. jeongin really turned out to be the amazing father he promised to be.

"are you having fun, son? yeah? ah hannie, lift your leg a little, you got appa's hair."

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