#AND JUNIE IS EXPECTING AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!

[simgerale]

another branham thanksgiving, which means another excuse for gramma roma to take tons of family photos 📸

[juniemunie]

The Lesson

Leuka has some good ol' bonding time with his dad, and may have learned some things along the way

I don't own the bg and the human kid, this entire plot is all from League of Legends, which I thought fit them pretty well, so I drew over some screenshots

[coyotecreek]

Juni has her nest box (gave it to her early because she really wanted to nest - all good). She's all set for Sunday.

Gave Nox her nest box today, and... she immediately excavated all the bedding out of it, onto the floor of her cage, and THROUGH the floor of her cage...

"You're going to be a problem, aren't ya?"

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one | part two | part three | part four

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue the movies, nachos, cherry cough syrup, and a couple of moments of clarity. [10k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, idiots in love!!! tw sick fic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie has the most peculiar curl tucked up by his neck. Where most are frizzy and loose, this one falls in a perfect shiny ringlet below his ear. He shifts and it's out of view, a curtain of dark hair falling forward and hiding his face as he puts your car in park. 

"Remind me why you had to drive?" you ask, ducking down to look at the glaring white lights of the movie theatre across the street. 

"You were gonna fall asleep behind the wheel." 

For once, Eddie might not be exaggerating. He grins at your lack of rebuttal and throws an arm behind your shoulders, twisting in the driver's seat to set his sights on Junie. 

"Are you ready?" he asks her. 

She wiggles. It's an ecstatic movement. Her clothes are prim and sweet if you do say so yourself, a long sleeved shirt under a pair of the world's cutest dungarees. They crinkle as she moves, pressed to perfection. 

You and Eddie open opposite doors in tandem and step out into the brisk, early night. The sidewalk shines with rain, a black slickness stretching in every direction. You shiver and pull your thin jacket tighter to your torso as you turn back to the car, intending to retrieve Junie and rush into the theatre before you can freeze on the spot. 

Eddie's already swung open the door and rescued your daughter from the confines of her car seat, neatening up the hem of one of her socks with her face pushed over his shoulder. 

She giggles about something and Eddie says, "Sorry, June. 'M tickling you, am I?" so fondly you have to avert your eyes. 

He locks the car and hands over your keys with a smile. You smile back, heart flipping like a spinning coin. Head over tails, over and over. 

The big, ring-heavy hand he holds to Junie's back reaches for you suddenly enough that you flinch.

"I'm sorry," he apologises, suppressing a laugh, "your necklace is twisted." 

He moves in a second time and you raise your chin, chest aflame as his fingers glance off of your bare skin. He slips the chain over his index and pulls, encouraging the links around until the clasp is hidden again. 

"Thank you." You huff an awkward, sheepish laugh.

"You owe me," he says, mock-severe. 

Your laugh is much more genuine as you follow him across the road. 

You're squinting as you approach The Hawk movie theatre. The title cards are hard to look at, aggressively white with black capital letters that read, 'The Great Mouse Detective 7'. 

There's a small line of families waiting by the front. You realise it like a shock, that the three of you must look like a family too. 

Eddie carries Junie with the surety of a dad that's carried his child a hundred times before; he strokes the back of her head with the affection of one, soothing the mess of flyaways she'd acquired by squirming in her car seat. Junie responds with familiarity, hands tucked into his hair and tugging. She's trying to be nice but his hair won't allow it, all his long curls tangled at the ends from a day at work. 

Still, he says, "Thanks, baby. Make sure you get the back, okay?" 

"Okay," she echoes. 

You look down at your wringing hands. There's ink smudged up the side of your writing hand. You scratch at it half-heartedly, blinking against your fatigue. 

You're exhausted tonight and it's only Wednesday. You can't imagine how you'll fare tomorrow considering how little sleep you're expecting tonight — there are a thousand things to do when you get home. Laundry to wash and press, cleaning to do, dinner to make. 

You'd been writing cheques for due bills when Eddie had come knocking, well-dressed, stupid-handsome, and announced that tonight you would be accompanying him to the movies. He'd actually said 'accompanying'. 

Despite a full agenda, you'd said yes. You're not very good at saying no. At least, not to him. 

It takes you a moment to realise you're at the front of the line. You pay for the tickets before Eddie can try it, and with his hands full he can't really stop you. He whines about it all the way to the concession stand. 

"You can buy the snacks," you say. His face lights up, and you amend, "If you're reasonable." 

"I'm always reasonable…ly over the top," he says, chided by your hard stare. 

"Yes, you are." 

He follows you down the two steps to the concession and cuts in front of you. "How did you do that? What face was that? I felt my soul leave my body." 

"That's my disapproving mom look. I'm disapproving." 

"Ah." He pats Junie's side sympathetically. 

She pulls her head from over his shoulder and smiles at you. Her arms vy for your hold. You steal her from Eddie and kiss her all over her tiny face, uplifted by how much she loves you, how happy she is to be in your arms. 

"What snacks do you want? Do you eat popcorn with butter? Without?" Eddie asks, his newly emptied arms already posed thoughtfully, a hand under his chin as he thinks over his options. 

The theatre has a huge array of jellies, an even bigger array of candy bars. There are more brands of soda than there are glasses in your kitchen cabinet. 

You're daunted. 

"Whatever you want," you say.

Eddie groans and tips his head back. "Don't play with me like this. Butter or no butter? It's an easy question." 

"I don't know. Without?" 

"You are so weird," he says happily. 

You pout and pull Junie closer. 

Standing at the side while he gathers concessions, too many things, you watch in awe as Eddie stacks it all against his chest with the sure confidence of someone who's done it before.

He grins at you from between two huge cups. "Are we ready?"

If you could, you'd leave him here in the foyer with his jumbo deluxe popcorn. As it stands, you like him too much to leave him behind. You juggle Junie and your bag to push open the doors for him outside of screen two. 

"Thanks, babe," he says outside of screen two. You bite your lip, surprised by his easy tone. 

You climb up the stairs and into your seats. You're high enough for Junie to sit in her own chair between you and Eddie and see the screen comfortably but she adamantly refuses, stretching out in your lap like an alley cat hungry for affection. 

Eddie moves into the ragtag velvet seat beside you, a million things in his lap and at your feet. He's pretty enough under the theatre lights to dull the panging ache at the back of your head. "If she won't sit here, I will. I got you a lemonade, is that cool?" 

If it weren't you'd hardly tell him. 

"She's being extremely well-behaved," Eddie notes, an inkling of pride in his tone. 

You could sucker punch him. Why does he do this to you? 

"I know," you say with a shy smile, "it's suspicious, isn't it?" 

"I don't know. If I were in your lap I might be well-behaved too." He raises his eyebrows, an over-exaggerated show of flirtatiousness. 

You reach over the arm to take a handful of popcorn. Eyes on Junie, you offer her your stolen goods and say, "I've got two thighs." 

"Don't tempt me." 

Junie all but snatches the popcorn and tilts her head back. A kernel falls from her hand and disappears between the seats. You make a mental note to pick it up afterward, ears full of her chomping. 

You'd worried she might be a little loud for the movies but there's a bunch of kids and none seem keen on keeping quiet, a cacophony of childish complaints to hide your conversation. 

"Are babies supposed to eat popcorn?" 

You freeze up. "Oh- I don't know," you say, turning Junie toward you so you can watch her swallow. 

"I thought I read that somewhere, but-" 

"No, I think you're right. Um…" Junie looks at you with obvious confusion. "Was that yummy?" you ask. You hide your concern with a strained bubbly attentiveness. 

"I guess she's old enough." 

Eddie's being very casual – it is casual. He's just thinking out loud. You know he's not criticising you. He never has, though sometimes you think he should. 

It must show on your face anyhow that you're having a 'I'm a bad mom' crisis. A mean stroke of insecurity.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says suddenly, brows pinched, "it's alright. It was just a thought. And she had no problem eating it, I'm sure she's gonna be aces. Better than aces." 

Junie climbs out of your lap and into his. He sets the popcorn on the floor to take her, and when her hands reach for his drink he holds the straw to her mouth. All the while his eyes move between her and you. 

"Okay," you say, because you're being silly. 

Junie is fine. Eddie was only saying something that's very well true. Babies aren't supposed to have popcorn, but June's not a baby, really. She knows how to chew properly. It's unlikely she'll choke. 

Eddie has to keep his focus on her to avoid getting soaked – she barely knows how to use a straw and keeps trying to turn the cup upside down. 

"Not like that, trouble. Right way up. You got it." 

You pick at the loose stitching at the end of your shirt and have to change the subject before the embarrassment of it all swallows you. Such a small thing. 

"Can I try one of these?" you ask, grabbing the first bag of candy you can find. They're a bag of Super Sour Suckers. 

He looks at you over Junie's head, startled and hiding it poorly. Then, a smile so bright it increases the embarrassment you're feeling tenfold.

"You have to! Robin said they're even worse than the normal ones, I don't wanna go through that alone," he says urgently. 

Robin is one of his friends. You're not jealous that he has friends (though you are, because you want your own, but not jealous that he has friends that aren't you). He's mentioned her in passing before. When you'd asked as bravely as you dared if they were anything more than friends he'd laughed maniacally.

"We're definitely just friends," he'd said.

You fight to stay smiling and pull open the bag of candies. Ironically, the jellies inside are shaped like pacifiers. Covered in sugar packed densely and looking almost wet with what you suspect to be citric acid, you shake the packet wearily and search for a candy that won't ruin your tongue.

Eddie holds out his hand. You drop a green one into his palm. Your fingertips ride up the curve of his thumb. 

He's unflinching as he eats it. After a few seconds his eyes screw up and he clutches June tight to his chest, raising an unhelpful hand to his jaw. 

"Holy sugar," he says, wincing. 

You bite into a pink pacifier unfortunately layered in sugar and wait nervously for the sourness to kick in. Sure enough, it comes quick and torturous. It's a knife cutting through fog. 

It's hard to feel tired when there's something this sour in your mouth.

"You can't spit it out!" Eddie says.

You stop with your hand halfway to your mouth. "What?" you ask incredulously, trying not to dribble. 

"You gotta eat it! Chew and swallow!" 

You chew miserably. He laughs at your expression – a warm and hyper sound, practically giggling. Junie joins in as she always does. His joy can't be overstated. 

The lights go down while you're still fighting for your life. Your eyes water and you have to smother the taste with a quick drink and a gasping breath. 

"You're sick. I can't believe you let me eat that," you whisper. 

"You saw me eat mine! You knew what you were getting into… Think June wants one?" 

Your outrage has him laughing again. It's a magnetic sound. Every time he does it you want to touch him, his arm one pole and your hand another. 

Junie gets comfortable on his right leg, head tipped expectantly against his chest and eyes drawn to the screen as the trailers begin. You don't bother with jealousy; in ten minutes she'll be climbing over the arm to sit with you again, or want to sit in her own seat. She may even try to walk around. Toddlers are indecisive and easily distracted. 

Even if she weren't. Even if she sat there in his lap for the next hour and a half and didn't look your way, you're not sure you could harbour any envy against him. His hand spreads over the front of her torso with fingers splayed against her ribs, stroking thoughtlessly through the fabric of her thick clothes.  

He tips his head toward your chair. "There's nachos." 

"I saw." 

"Wanna eat some before they get cold?" 

"Subtle." 

He snorts. "Yep. That's what they call me. Eddie Subtle Munson." 

You reach over the dark floor for the tray of nachos and balance them carefully on the armrest between your two seats. Eddie digs in without fuss, you fret over which ones have jalapeños on them, and Junie gets mad that nobody's sharing with her. She puts her hands straight in a mound of orange cheese. Her face is a picture when she brings it to her mouth. She's discovered molten gold. 

"Junie," Eddie says lightly, carding hair away from her ear so she can hear him properly. "Don't get cheese on your pretty clothes. It took your mom a week to get the rocky road out of your strawberry jammies, you know?" 

He doesn't care that she's mauled the food. He's worried she might stain her dungarees. Your heart goes crazy, another sudden surge of clarity.  

Junie climbs back into your own lap as the movie begins. You whisper to her about proper theatre etiquette in your mommy voice and she doesn't do too bad a job at listening. She finds the appearance of the Great Mouse Detective himself quite funny, and laughs at his grave features and expressions every now and then. It's a golden sound. 

Try as you might, you can't keep your eyes open. Junie's having such a good time and Eddie whispers funny commentary beside you, but eventually your eyelids creep shut and Eddie squeezes your arm, skin braceleted by his thick, warm fingers. 

-

"C'mere," Eddie prompts, hands vying for your daughter where she's perched in your lap. 

"Why?" Junie asks. 

He's surprised at her inquisition. "You don't want a hug?" 

She nods voraciously. Eddie lifts her off of your lap before she can use you as a climbing frame and into his own.

"I think mommy's sleeping," he tells her. 

Junie looks at you curiously. You've got a wet wipe in your limp hand, which he takes and discards, and your head's fallen to one side. You'll have an awesome crick in your neck when you wake up.

Junie gives him a hug. He loves her hugs. They're so small and sweet, she's genuinely an extremely loving little girl. Her smile when she hugs people is beautiful as yours is, though her affection is less hesitant. 

Everything's going well until she catches a look at the huge, scary bad guy Professor Ratigan somewhere in the middle. 

Eddie's crunching through a greedy mouthful of popcorn and almost chokes as she turns around and hides in his chest. He brings a hand up to her back protectively though he doesn't know what happened, eyes moving between her and the screen at lightning speed. 

"Aw, June," he murmurs sympathetically. He really is a scary looking guy. 

"Eddie," she says, dangerously close to tears. 

"Sweetheart, it's okay! He's only on TV." 

She says something that might be, "Don't want." It's not quite there but Eddie thinks she's doing a great job lately with her talking, patting her back in a silent well done as he attempts to reassure her. "Basil's gonna outsmart him, Junie. The Great Mouse Detective is gonna save the day, scout's honour." 

"No," she whines softly. 

He covers her unhappy face with his hand. 

"It's okay," he murmurs, melted and bemused. "It's okay, junebug. I swear." 

Despite his best efforts, she starts to cry. Eddie freezes up because she doesn't cry often, not with him. When she does you're always there to find a solution. He supposes the novelty of being a new person has long worn off, and that he's going to have to make more of an effort than just tickling her or petting her hair to make it better. 

Her volume increases. He shushes her, clumsy and awkward but earnest, trying the best that he can to make it up. He offers candies and drinks, he rummages through your baby bag for Mr. Bear. She takes it all but none of it lasts.

Someone in the chair behind him coughs pointedly. 

Eddie turns to wake you up. He gets one good look at your face and can't follow through. 

You're sleeping deeply, at the movie theatre of all places. How tired are you, and why hadn't you said? He'd known to some extent — it's why he'd offered to drive — but with the movie blaring and all the kids and noise and now Junie's crying, he realises you must be exhausted to sleep through it. Why hadn't he noticed? He kicks himself.

He lifts her up with his head angled down, giving your shoulder a swift squeeze and then bumping down the steps with Junie until he's out into the lights of the hallway. The door swings closed. 

It's oddly quiet and extremely bright. Junie stops crying to blink, and starts to cry again once she's adjusted. 

Eddie does not know what to do. It's a kick to his ego that he quickly accepts, though he does murmur a rueful, "Babe, I thought you liked me." 

Lost on deaf ears, his comment hangs in the air. 

He pats her back some more, wracking his brain for how you take care of her when she gets like this. Mostly, you're patient. You hum and you wait. Eddie tries to emulate you and your kind heart, walking her up and down the hall as he taps the bottom of her spine. 

"It's okay," he repeats. The more he says it the easier it feels. It is okay. He has to find a way to help June understand that, is all.

She grizzles. It's a long process. A couple of times he wonders if he's in over his head, if it's even his place, if he should wake you up and admit defeat. 

But Eddie Munson is trying to prove something. 

He works Mr. Bear out of Junie's iron grip and pinches his back taut so that his face and arms wiggle when he wants them to. 

"Baby June," he begins, in as gruff a voice as he can manage. He tries to channel his uncle's sternness, and his fondness. "Won't you quit crying? You're getting tears on the neck of your t-shirt and all over your cheeks." 

Junie quietens. She still cries, but the severity of the situation noticeably shifts. 

Eddie keeps on. "I got just the thing," he says, pushing Mr. Bear forward and making smacking sounds as he kisses both of her cheeks. "Gotta kiss these tears right off a'you." 

She laughs as Mr. Bear kisses her face dry and laughs some more when Eddie kisses the top of her head.

Eddie loves Junie. 

He knows it for a fact. 

She's very easy to love. She's beautiful as you are, she's loving, she's sweet. Her laugh is adorable and her smile is more. When she cries, Eddie finds he's never annoyed. Grated by the repetitive sound, maybe, but he can't find it in himself to be mad with her ever. He wants to help her work through it. To get you both through it. Eddie wants to be good at this.

He has Mr. Bear kiss Junie all over her face. 

"See?" Mr. Bear asks. "Isn't that better? No more tears, little girl, or we'll never see the end of the movie!" 

As Eddie says it, he wonders if taking her back into the theatre is a good idea. 

"Hey, junebug?" he says, all drama set aside. 

Junie lifts her flushed face. 

He smiles gratefully. "Do you wanna go back inside? Go check on mommy?" Leaving you by yourself doesn't exactly sit right with him.

Ah, there's the face he was expecting. Puzzlement, surprise. Junie frowns at him and looks over his shoulder, her own, searching the empty hallway for you and finding only reflective floor lights and patterned carpet. 

Eddie starts back into the screen room before she can cry over your being missing, chatting quietly but in a way that commands her attention. He's effective in the art of distraction if nothing else.  

The mouse detective and his friends have defeated Professor Ratigan, though Eddie shields Junie's head from the screen in case he's thinking about making a comeback, finding his way back to you in the dark. He picks over other people's snacks and then the abundance of your own, finding you still sound asleep. The sight doesn't spell good tidings. 

"Here she is," Eddie tells Junie, "here's mom. You wanna give her a kiss?" 

He sits down in his seat and squishes a bag of gummy worms under his boot. Junie immediately bends over the armrest and grabs at your front. You'd worried to him once that she had separation anxiety, and Eddie didn't know anything about it to agree or not. This display makes him think she might. She's clinging to you, desperately wanting your attention. 

Eddie winces as she grabs your face. She's obviously not trying to be cruel, hand stroking over your cheek as you'd stroke hers. 

"Mom," she whispers, the action itself enough to get Eddie laughing. Her version of whispering is almost like a character in a pantomime. 

He doesn't laugh for very long. You're not easy to wake up. Junie squishes your cheek and tries again. "Mommy," she says.

You groan in your sleep and your eyes scrunch together. "What?" you murmur finally, voice scratchy. 

"You're missing the movie," Eddie says, patting your thigh. 

Your arms come to life before you do. You wrap them around Junie's short torso and encourage her up your chest until you can nose at the top of her head. You rub slow lines, a steady back and forth. Eddie would bet money you don't have a clue in the world where you are. 

"S'loud," you complain. Your voice is weak with sleep. 

Junie looks at Eddie weirdly. He suspects it's her way of asking him to help out without asking. 

He tenses his hand where it rests at your thigh. "Do you wanna go home?" 

You don't answer. You go limp under his touch and Junie's weight, nose and lips set in a frown but otherwise near languid. 

Eddie's small (and alarmingly ever-present) worry for you multiplies by a hundred. 

He grabs up a bag of chips and entices your daughter back onto his thigh. She digs through half the bag as the movie draws to a finish, distracted if not happy, her face and fingers swiftly flaked in corn dust. The lights are thrown up and the noise is immense, a hundred pairs of shoes over tipped popcorn, babies and young kids unsettled, their parents eager to head home and watch their own movies no doubt. 

Eddie can't say he'd really watched the film besides precursory glances, his focus on you and your fidgety offspring. He'd been excited to tell you about his Junie success, but now he just wants to get you home.

He says your name as clearly as he can, his hand finding its way to your thigh for the third time. He rubs down toward your knee and gives your leg a shake. 

Junie climbs off of his own. Now the lights are on she can see the grand assortment of snacks laid out before her, and she seems eager to try them all. 

You eventually, thankfully rouse, you drag a palm over your eyes and cross your legs, squishing his hand in the process. He steals it back.

"Babe, you gotta get up. The attendants are looking at us funny. I think they think I've run you ragged, and while the dad tag doesn't bother me, 'cruel husband' doesn't suit me." 

"What?" you ask. 

He shrugs. "Junie pissed her pants." 

Your eyes open, lashes parting clumsily. You move like the air around you has turned to glue and moan in a quiet display of agony as your neck clicks. "She leaked through?"

"Nah, I'm messing with you. Movie's done. Getting some weird stares." 

You're quiet, but you shrug on your jacket and Eddie packs what he can of the leftover candy into your bag. He swings it over his shoulder. 

"You wanna come up?" he asks Junie. 

She raises both arms. 

You stand on shaky legs. Eddie stations Junie on one hip with one arm wrapped around her and holds out the other. You let him fold you up into his side.

"You okay?" he asks. 

Your face drops into his shoulder. "I'm so tired." 

"You're alright to walk out to the car?" 

His worry is like a rubber band. You snap to attention, disengage from his hold. It's a foreign and really uncomfortable feeling to see you out of sorts. 

Eddie walks behind you with a hand nearly but not touching your back. If you topple, he's not sure how he's gonna save you. Determined anyways, he guards you down the hollow stairs and through the hallway, one step behind you. 

It's a cool, crisp night outside. 

The smell of rain sticks around. You lift your chin. It's much colder now that night's fallen. The breeze kisses your damp skin. When did you start sweating? 

He presses his hand to your shoulders and guides you across the road. 

Junie starts her lovely babbling in his ear. "Mouse 'tective," she says at one point. You don't react, affirming his theory: you're more than tired. You're sick. 

"Mouse detective," he agrees, arm around your shoulder to assuage his own worries as he gives Junie the best of his attention. "You liked that one, huh?" Besides the evil Professor. "Better than the Muppets in New York? Junebug, you little traitor. How easily your favour changes." 

"Are you surprised? She took to you like," — you yawn wide enough that Eddie feels it under his arm, a full body thing — "a duck to water." 

He beams, relieved to hear your voice. "Yeah, well, I'm special." 

"That's true."

Eddie walks you around to the passenger side and opens your door. 

"Flirting! Awesome. You're not too sick to forget how much of a catch I am. Watch your head." 

"I gotta do Junie's straps," you say. 

"I think I can do it by now."

He's only sort of bluffing. It takes him much longer than it would've taken you. He celebrates his win by pinching her cheek lightly and then whacking his head hard on the roof of your car. 

"Fuck," he mutters as he jogs around the hood, scrubbing at the back of his head. 

You're staring at him as he opens the door. 

He puts the baby bag in your lap and shoves the key in the ignition, trying not to buckle under the weight of your gaze. He cracks quicker than he should, hand paused in its action.

"What?" 

"You tryna give yourself a concussion?" 

"Kiss it better?" 

You kiss the tip of your finger and touch it to his head. It's an instant healing potion. 

Getting you both home is easy enough, it's the trying to leave that's hard. You collapse heavily into the couch, Junie drapes herself over your lap and begs for her clothes to be taken off. Your second wind has worn away to nothing, leaving you plainly exhausted. 

Eddie can't go home, not until he knows you're alright. 

He slinks into your bedroom and tries not to look around too much. It feels like an invasion of privacy despite having made it in here a couple of times, always with his hip to the door as you search for something. He fails spectacularly and straight away, always hungry to know more about you. These days especially. 

Your bed looks like you shook out the duvet but never tucked the corners. Your pillow's on the floor, your thin throw blanket is screwed up in a ball. There's a bunch of Junie's stuffies against the headboard. He grins at their straight backs.

He makes for your wardrobe, a cheap bit of cherry wood with one sagging door. As much as he wants to outfit Junie in her goodwill band t-shirt, he pulls a soft pair of cotton pyjamas out from a neatly folded stack, thumbing the blue fabric fondly. There's a noticeable disparity between her clothes and yours. One work skirt and one work shirt hang from two lonely hangers, accompanied only by your infamous 'best jeans'. He frowns at a small stain at the knee and scratches it fruitlessly. Not her best jeans, he thinks in horror, picturing your unhappy face. He can see it so clearly, the pinching of your brows.

Junie squeals happily from the living room. Eddie remembers himself and follows the sound, finding you both on the ground. You're kneeling, blowing raspberries into Junie's naked stomach where she lays on her changing mat, a discarded diaper and her dirty clothes to the side. 

There's a big break between raspberries where your eyes drift shut sluggishly. Junie whines for another.

Eddie sits next to you. Stupidly close, his crossed leg kisses your thigh. He could wrap you up in a hug easily right here, and he wants to. Your tired face has his stomach aching with guilt. 

"Sweetheart," he says to you firmly, "get back on the couch. You look like you're gonna fall asleep right here." 

You don't argue, leaving Eddie the impossible duty of dressing your baby. Junie hates the shirt more than he can describe, loathes the fabric as it covers her face. He has to pick her up to get her into her pants, another fury. She forgives him easily once he's done, lingering by his side with Mr. Bear in hand. She pinches his back and imitates Eddie's low growl, laughing at herself as she does. She finds it very funny. Eddie can't help giggling with her. 

"Eddie?" you ask. 

He turns. You look miserable. 

"What?" he asks softly, startled by your intense expression. 

"Thank you." 

"Oh, baby," he says, loud and brash as he twists where he is to grab both of your knees. He practically throws himself at you, at your feet, ducking his cheek to your leg. "You really are sick as a dog." 

You look visibly embarrassed.

"Listen," he says, insistent, "If we start saying thank you to each other, we won't stop. We'll be a loop of thank yous." 

"I think I have more to say than you do," you murmur. 

He shakes his head, exasperated at your inability to see him for what he is even now. It's funny. Eddie thinks you've a better view of him than anybody else, that you see him more generously than anyone has ever seen him, and you still haven't noticed he's a boy in love. 

You must feel his grin as he kisses your knee, his thumb stroking over the ridge of the cap. 

"If I started to say thanks for all the things you've given me I wouldn't stop. I'd talk myself hoarse," Eddie argues. 

You laugh at his dungeon master dramatics, but reaffirm, "I haven't given you anything." 

"You don't know what you've given me," he says into your leg. 

Eddie lifts his head, weary of his chin digging into your leg. 

Now isn't the best time to declare devotion, or drop kisses into you when you can't offer any in return. Not that he's expecting you to. Not that he wouldn't receive them gratefully. 

"I should go home." 

You reach for him. Your hand moves slowly like you've a weight around your wrist, but your fingertips curve over his cheek; you move from the corner of his lip, under his eye, and then finish your circle at the skin beneath his ear. 

"Can you hug me?" you ask. 

"Yeah," Eddie says. He doesn't waste any time.

He gets up, slides a knee between your knees and rests his full weight on the couch between them as his arms curve around you and his hands feel for the dip of your lower back. He clutches without any hesitation. 

"Can I? Did you mean it like that? My arms work fine." 

You curl your arms around him and groan. "You're gonna crush me." 

"Really?" He pulls you closer. "How 'bout now?" 

"Ow," you whine. 

He laughs and pushes his face toward your ear. "Liar," he whispers. "No way that hurts." 

"Why's everybody always on top of me?" 

"That's your issue?" He pulls back. "You want to sit in my lap?" 

"No!" 

"Aw, my poor girl. You totally wanna sit in my lap. Alright, get in it." 

He sits down beside you and waits, one arm still behind your back. He gives you an encouraging tug. 

"I'm not sitting in your lap." 

"I didn't think you would, just- Just c'mere," he prompts, pulling your face into his chest. 

Your arms slide around his waist. He can feel the scratchy skin on your left index finger, a scar of a recent kitchen accident, against his hip where his shirt has ridden. 

"You're really handsy. Has anyone told you that before?" Eddie asks, trying to cover the entirety of your back with his arms alone. 

You push your face as far as it'll go into his chest. Eddie keeps you there, and soon a little body has found its way onto the couch next to you both, demanding to be included. Eddie quickly drags her in. 

Long minutes of quiet hugs. 

"Wish we could stay like this forever," you murmur.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. If you were worried." 

He massages over the slope of your shoulder, a tight looking muscle. You sigh inaudibly, a hot patch over his heart. 

"I wasn't," you say. 

Eddie thinks you might finally be on the same page. 

-

You get really, really sick. 

"On my days off!" you croak, the injustice too much to handle. 

Eddie laughs from the end of your bed, a bandana tied around his face like a doctor from one of his awful horror movies, though the bandana is far from a clinical white. "That's exactly why you're still sick. Your body sensed the weekend." 

Hadn't it? You'd been achy and awful on Friday and Benny had sent you home at lunch, citing a need to keep his patrons from infection. Which sucked, because you'd really wanted to stick around for the very beginning of the Friday night rush and get some payday tips. People are generous when they're high on the buzz of a forthcoming weekend, especially to over obsequious waitresses.

It had sucked worse when Junie came out of daycare in the best mood ever and demanded kisses. You'd had a headache the size of a tennis ball behind your eyes and didn't want to pass anything over, and the crushed look on her face had made you cry in the car on the way home. 

Eddie dropped in particularly early that night with soup. "I had a feeling," he'd said. 

And now here he is again the day after. 

"At least one of us is enjoying this," you say. 

"You think I'm enjoying this?" Eddie asks. 

You give his precautionary outfit a once over. "Yes." 

"This is just something I had lying around." 

"Shut up! Shut up, no it wasn't!" You're voice cracks, giggly and giddy even with the spikes of pain to your tender head. 

"It was. We did a campaign, I was a plague doctor-" 

"That is in terrible taste." 

"It was perfectly appropriate, thank you very much. You're determined to vilify me. Need to slow down with the cold medicine, I think." 

You shriek as he tries to take the bottle. "No! No, please, my throat hurts." 

He takes the bottle. It is a hurtful defeat. You curl your fingers around nothing and sulk, slouching down into a sanctuary of pillows and blankets to hide from him. Extra pillows provided by Eddie. With fresh covers, duh. They smell like him anyway. You turn your nose into it indulgently. 

"You've had too much to safely be responsible for any further consumption." 

"Further consumption," you echo, eyes closing in defeat as he leaves. 

"You okay, June?" you hear him ask, voice occluded partially by the sound of the TV. 

"Okay, Eddie?" she asks. 

You grin to yourself. 

"I'm great. This looks very fun. I'm gonna make mom a cold pack for her head and then you can help me make dinner, okay? Does that sound fun? Tell me, June." 

The 'Tell me, June,' isn't a command so much as a gentle reminder that she can answer the question if she wants to. 

"Fun," she says.  

"Hey, great. Oh, thank you. Thank you." 

They better not be cuddling without me, you think bitterly, grin swiftly replaced by a self-pitying frown. 

You cough into your hand, roil in your own misery for a second and then grab the big glass of water Eddie had insisted on from the night stand. You tip it down yourself in your hurry. 

"Missed your mouth," Eddie says, appearing at exactly the wrong moment. 

"Don't baby me." 

He pads into the room with a cold pack wrapped in a hand towel. "For your head." 

"This is silly. I don't need to be in bed."

"Obviously you do. You're sick, did you notice? Stupid question," he adds regretfully, gesturing for you to lie back. He sets the pack to your forehead. "You wouldn't notice a hole in your stomach. You'd be dripping entrails in the freezer aisle wondering if Junie wants corn on the cob or mashed potato with dinner tonight." 

"What does she want for dinner tonight?" 

"Boo! Exactly my point." 

"I'm gonna go ask her-" 

Eddie puts an unapologetic hand in the middle of your chest and pushes down. "You will do no such thing." He lowers his face to yours. "I'm willing to get physical. So behave." 

You flush with heat because you're sick and not because he says it a certain way, dropping back down into your fluffed pillows without another word. 

Eddie's hand climbs up to your collar, your neck. His fingers slide one after another behind it. It's a blessed cold. You can't find a comfortable temperature today, moving between chills and hot flashes at the drop of a hat.

Or a bandana. Eddie unties the dark fabric from his neck and leaves it where it lands, staring at you without saying anything. 

His thumb presses into your sore throat carefully, the barest hint of pressure, and his lips part. He doesn't say anything for a while. It looks like he wants to. 

"Do me a favour?" he asks finally.

"Of course." Anything to feel useful right now. 

"Take it easy." He again lowers his head, talking to you with a private smile. "The sooner you chill out, the sooner you'll beat this thing." 

"Don't say that. Like I have something serious." 

"The sooner you'll beat this moderate-" 

"Mild-" 

"-affliction." He strokes quarter-circles into your neck.

"I don't need to lie down. There's things I have to do." 

"On a Saturday?" 

"Yes. There's things I need to do everyday." You clear your throat. It's useless, the lump remains and your voice stays scratchy. "I have- I always have laundry. So that first. Gotta wash it and put it out and bring it in and press it. I gotta make sure Junie has lunch for daycare this week 'n if she doesn't I have to go get it, I gotta," — you cover his hand with your own thoughtlessly — "make sure her rash is getting better. And I promised we'd do a tea party tomorrow, I have to make sandwiches!" 

"We both know she doesn't remember the tea party." 

"I promised." 

"And if I… If I tried to get all those things done, would you stay in bed?" 

"You can't." 

"But if I tried it? I can do laundry. I'm good at it. Get oil stains out of Wayne's coveralls every Sunday." 

You slump into a lump of sadness and achy arms. "Don't do my laundry. Don't do any of that stuff. I'll punch you if you do." 

Eddie bursts into laughter. "You'll punch me? You horrible woman." 

"I will," you promise, fingers curling around his arm to hold him in place. 

"Why don't I believe you?" 

"I don't know. 'Cos you're a know-it-all who dislikes me." 

"I far from dislike you." He grins at you, all dimpled and pretty. "I don't believe you'd hit me because I know you, idiot." 

"Name-calling." 

"Uh-huh. Are you sleeping or am I helping you out onto the couch?" 

While you're happy for the compromise, you have one problem. "I don't think I can move." 

Eddie lets his face fall amicably to your collar. "No, I bet you can't. More reason for me to get you on the couch. I think you've genuinely had too much cough syrup," he worries, warm breath fanning over your skin. 

You bring your spare hand to his head. He has so many curls. 

He lifts his head and you're close enough to kiss. There's no other reason anyone has ever been this close. 

"I can see your beauty mark," you say, hushed. You don't wanna breathe on him too much. 

"Freckle." 

"Your freckle." You lift and drop his curls, fingers toying through the softness towards his roots, the frizz at the ends. 

"You- You smell like fucking cherry syrup."

You abandon his hair to clap a hand over your mouth. "I'm sorry." 

He covers his own mouth. "It's okay," he says, similarly muffled. "I like the sweet stuff." 

What the fuck does that mean? Your stomach doesn't flip — it leaps right up into your throat. "You're an idiot," you breathe, caught off guard. 

"What was that?" he asks, taking away his hand. "Didn't catch it." 

"I said, 'You're an-" 

"Amazing friend and confidante?" 

You try to talk and he says, "A real stand-up guy?" 

You try again and he says, "A total rockstar? Baby, if you really think all this you should've said." 

You flop completely onto your back, away from his hands, his jokes and his lovely brown eyes where they bore into your own. Eddie hums and rubs brashly over the top of your arm until the skin glows with heat. 

"Please stay in bed," Eddie says as he stands. 

Medicine or his touch, you're feeling pretty tired. You pull up your blankets and sink like a stone, head disappearing into a mess of pillows and throws. 

-

It's much later when you wake. You move into the land of the living abrupt as whiplash. 

Eddie seems very sorry. "Sweetheart, June's past due for a new diaper, and I-" 

"Oh, right," you say, sounding much more alert than you feel. You're a girl made of sandpaper. 

"I would've, I mean. If it wouldn't make you uncomfortable, I would've tried. But I've never changed a diaper in my life." 

You scratch your flaky eyes, disorientated and head like a boiling saucepan with the lid glued on. 

"That's okay," you say. Your voice refuses to cooperate with you, gruff and too quiet. "It wouldn't bother me, but it's also not your job, so… Um." You yawn wide and cover your entire face. 

You spend a minute rubbing your eyes. 

"Fuck, what time's it?" you ask, squinting at him and bringing your hands to either side of your face.

"Like, seven. Ish." 

"Eddie…" 

"I know. I thought you could use the rest. I knew you could. And it's not urgent, you know? Come around, first. Everything's stellar." 

You peel back the sheets. You're a clammy, too-hot mess with weak legs. 

Eddie sees you wobble and rushes to wrap an arm around your waist. Completely unnecessarily, heart-achingly kind. You wince at the dampness of your shirt under his touch.

Junie sits on the couch in her jammies with a yellow-green soup stain down the front. She's propped up like a princess, a pillow behind her head between the armrest and her blanket covering her legs, cheek pressed to the cushions. Eyes trained on the TV and her bottle propped in a slackening grip, your baby is peaceful, near luxurious. 

Only a little wiggle might suggest she's uncomfortable.

You part from Eddie's side and sit down beside her, the seat warm. She doesn't even look up. 

"What, no hi for mom?" you ask tenderly, hand falling to the top of her head. She's lovely. 

She gasps, little lungs fit to burst. It's pure excitement, her bottle dislodged and the blanket pushed away immediately. She doesn't bother getting to her feet, throwing herself into your lap and assuming you'll do the rest. Of course you will. You pull her up and kiss the top of her head, though you quickly hold her at arm's length. 

"Sorry, mommy's still sick," you tell her, sympathetic at her crushed expression. 

"Mis'd," she says. 

"Yeah? You missed me?" you ask hopefully. 

Her lips part in comprehension. "Missed you," she confirms. 

You throw your gaze over your shoulder to Eddie. He stands by Junie's changing station with a smug smile. "What?" 

"You're not very convincing." 

"I'm not trying to convince you, thanks," he says, holding up two hands in surrender. 

"She didn't learn that herself," you argue. 

"She might've. You tell her enough." 

You go back to your girl, pleased at her own smug smile. "I missed you, too, I missed you so much. Missed you millions. Sorry I've been sleeping all day, you've been such a good girl. She has, hasn't she?"

Eddie sorts through a nearly empty bag of diapers and brandishes one with fish printed on the back. "Oh, yeah. Junebug's been amazing. She came in with me to see you earlier, took your temperature." You frown. "From a distance. Kind of. I held her above you. It was… acrobatic." 

You close your eyes at his absurdity, your laugh prompting another spike of pain. 

Junie forces herself closer and gets both arms around your neck. 

You sag into the contact, defeated. "Aw, June," you mumble ruefully. "M'trying to make sure you don't get sick too. Wasting my time." 

"Mommy," she says into your neck. 

"That's me." 

You know she has something she wants to say. You can't wait for the days where she can. Exciting, to think that one day she'll be able to share all of her thoughts. 

Right now, she's probably thinking, Woah, mom, you smell weird. And you look weirder.

You feel her back with your hand and cringe. Definitely time to get her changed.

Afterward, you sit with your back to the open front door on one of the porch steps. Physical exertion of any kind seems to be inadvisable; you're sweating up a storm. Junie sits beside you at her own insistence, her hand clasped in your hand and her head on your arm. You look down at her thighs next to your own and marvel at their small size. The evening breeze is a blessing. 

Eddie stands in front of you with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a checklist. 

"Tea party sandwiches are badly made and saran wrapped in the fridge. Junie doesn't have lunch for Monday but I can go tomorrow if you want me to. Her clothes are folded in the hamper. Uh, some stuff got left out, you might need to press them. Not tonight though, please." 

"Thank you." 

He talks around a smile. "Soup's on the stove. I'll come back later, if-" 

"You don't have to." 

"I want to. I wouldn't actually leave, but-" 

"Eddie-" You cough into your shoulder. He waits for you to finish. "You- You didn't have to take care of me." 

"What does that mean? Of course I did." 

He hikes his backpack higher up his shoulder and pads back up the steps, not all of them but enough for him to lean down and stare at Junie. 

"Thanks for the best day ever," he says seriously, looking out of the corner of his eye at you. "Almost. See you later?" 

Junie nods voraciously and reaches up with her empty hand. Eddie takes it and kisses her temple. He does the same to you, lips brushing soft as downy-feather over your skin. 

"I'll come back around ten? Is that cool?" 

"Don't knock too loudly," you mumble, very aware of his proximity. 

He backs up and bows like an idiot, hand moving in circles. 

You and Junie wave him off. 

"To work?" Junie asks.  

Your eyebrows jump as you pull your gaze from his retreating figure. "Huh?" 

"To work?" 

You play with her fingers. "No, he's not going to work. He's going to take care of someone else, now." 

Wayne, Eddie said, in a fondly exasperated tone that explained everything you needed to know. His uncle's self-preservation must come in similar disinterest to himself as yours does to you. 

"We'll see him tomorrow," you say. It's not even a lie, you will both see him tomorrow. 

But apparently he's coming back tonight. 

-

True to his word, Eddie Munson knocks your door carefully at nearing ten o'clock. 

Wayne's dismissal chases his heels. He'd spent an hour worrying about you at the dinner table with his uncle, fingers curling anxiously in his hair. 

Wayne had been talking about some gab the boys in the shop had heard about killer mice or killer lice or something when he'd suddenly cleared his throat and snapped Eddie to attention. 

"You're a good kid. Notice how I said good, and not smart," Wayne had said. 

"Gee, thanks. You always did know how to make a guy feel loved, Wayne." 

"You don't wanna be here." 

Eddie had frowned. "Obviously I do." 

"Kid, what I mean is, you gotta," — he'd nodded his head hard to one side and raised his eyebrows — "you know." 

"Haven't brushed up on my mysterious gestures lately. Translate that one for me?" 

Wayne had flicked up his newspaper and sighed. "Don't be dumb." 

"You keep saying that." 

"You keep being dumb, boy." 

"I don't know what you want me to do." 

"Think you better go look after your girl, don't you?" Wayne had asked finally, clearing his throat. 

So here he is to look after you. A tad early, worried you'll be sleeping on the couch with a misbehaving baby in your lap or passed out in the bathroom after an impromptu cleaning. 

Thankfully, you open the door in different clothes than he'd left you in, the neckline dark with run-off and face damp under your eyes and by your ears. You dab at your tacky skin with your index knuckle. 

"You look better," he says. He wishes he could take it back instantly, though you don't take any offence. 

"Hot shower," you explain. 

You step back to let him in. Eddie closes the door behind him without turning, eyes glued to your fresh face. He's depressed by the lingering fatigue he finds lining your darling features. 

"You okay?" you ask him, perturbed by his silence. 

Eddie's better than okay. 

He steps close. You look like you might step back, make room for him he doesn't want, so he reaches out for your face and holds it in one hand, the other landing in tandem on your arm.

Your cheek lists into his hand as he wipes away what's left of the dampness on your face. He's not sure you know you're doing it. 

"Did you take any more medicine?" he asks quietly, rubbing under your eye carefully with the tip of his thumb.

"No, I- I think you fixed me, Munson. Me and Junie had your soup, and after a shower I felt way better. It was really nice. She slept easy." 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. "You don't feel too hot." 

"Like I said. Fixed me. My hero." 

He looks over your shoulder at your life — at his life, or at least where a majority of it seems to take place. All his favourite parts these days happen right there on your couch, or at that table, or knee to knee with a baby that isn't his but- but-

"You said that to me the first time we met," Eddie recalls, shaking his head. It's like there's water in his ears. A few strands of hair drift into his eyes. 

You catch his elbows in both hands. "It feels like a really long time ago now." 

Months. Only months. "I feel like I've known you for years."

He strokes over your face, chin to cheek, the tip of his thumb pressed to the corner of your mouth. 

"That's how I feel, too," you whisper. Utter. Hushed, your words ring loud anyway. "You're my best friend." 

Eddie doesn't take it for a door closing because it isn't. It's a door kicked wide open. Split on its hinges. You and Eddie stand on equal ground, and, for once, the same page.

"You know I don't mind taking care of you?" he asks, hand passing over your ear to hide behind it. He wants to see all of your face. 

Predictably, you drop your eyes to his neck, pupils wobbling as you search for somewhere to plant yourself. "I know. I'm not sure I deserve it." 

"Why wouldn't you deserve it? Everyone deserves taking care of." 

"Even murderers?" 

"Maybe not murderers-" 

"The evil guys from your game? Necromancers?" 

"They're not all evil." His left palm skirts up the curve of your neck, encouraging your face back to his. "Don't change the subject." 

You press your lips together, caught.

"I actually…" — he gathers as much bravery as he has — "want to take care of you." 

"You do." 

He holds your face in both hands. "You know you- You know you started it, right? You know it's- that without your-" He cringes internally at his stammering, but he has to get this part right. "You have gold where your heart should be." 

"Y/N The Golden Hearted. Doesn't have the best ring to it," you muse, hands clinging to the crooks of his elbows like twin pooled teardrops waiting to fall. 

Eddie stares at you, floored.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" he asks. 

"What's your name?" you demand, grinning. 

"Eddie the Subtle. Munson the Mad."  

You huff a laugh. "That's a cop-out."

"Maybe." 

"How about…" The air feels thick as jelly. Light from under the bedroom door stops short of your legs, your toes almost touching. His rubber soles, your socks. "Eddie the Indomitable?" 

He crinkles his nose. "I'd almost think you were trying to flirt with me, that's how bad that is." 

Your blinks are slow. Your eyes soften. 

"What if I was?" you ask. 

A stock-still silence pervades, filled only by the hum of the refrigerator and the droning of the bathroom light, left on. He could tell you the contents of this room by its sounds alone. 

His hand moves of its own accord, up and down the slope of your neck. "I'd say you needed a better pick up line."

"Like what?" you ask, chest rising too fast. 

Eddie takes a step and feels his jacket zipper cut into the cotton of your shirt. It's your matching band t-shirt. 

Eddie drags his gaze slowly to your widened eyes, your lashes as they move almost imperceptibly upward. Taking him in as he inches closer. 

"You're so fucking pretty," he says. 

He leans in. He closes the gap. Eddie Munson takes the leap. 

Your hand comes quickly to his upper arm and you turn your face just enough to force his lips, his kiss landing a centimetre shy of your nose. 

He struggles to keep his eyes closed. His heart thrums like a blown amp. 

"You can't kiss me," you say. Eddie struggles to discern your tone. 

His nose presses to yours. Not desperately, but almost. "I can't?" he asks, throat thick with emotion, a stickying, cloying taffy. 

"I'll make you sick." 

He turns your face with his palm, lips hovering above yours, a hair's width. Close enough to feel their heat. 

"Can I trust you'll nurse me back to health, in the event that that happens?" Would you take care of me? His hands tremble where they're touching you. He's too scared to open his eyes. 

You don't answer. 

You cover his hands and the seconds stretch endlessly, a thousand moments of terror and pining and want suddenly flattened into one as you kiss him.

He exhales against you. His relief is a palpable, viscous thing as he pulls you in and his nose digs into yours. Lips soft as he'd imagined, as he'd known they'd be, you kiss back tentatively. Sweetly.

You're kissing him like he's something that needs a careful touch. 

Eddie screws his eyes shut tight enough to see stars, firecrackers, a shattering bouquet of colours as you move beneath him. He can't believe he's kissing you. He can't believe there was a time where he wasn't.

He yields, leaning back just enough to see your face. You keep your eyes shut, your eyelashes kissing the delicate skin beneath. They move like blades of grass in the breeze as Eddie tries to catch his breath, regaining some of his composure. It's hard while he's here, this close. 

You make a small sound, a breath like a barb. The shaky demarcation of tears. 

"Okay?" he asks, more movement than sound. His lips skip over your own. 

You have to feel it. 

A laugh bubbles up through your parted lips like a hiccup. "I'm definitely gonna make you sick," you mumble regretfully. 

"Make me sick, sweetheart," he says, begs. Whatever. 

Whatever word you want to use. He doesn't care if he pays for it afterwards, he wants to be close to you now, unapologetically close. And kissing you — kissing you like this, your reciprocation, it's everything because it means you feel the same as he does. 

Or a fraction the same. He's reassured either way. If you felt a fraction of what he felt, that's enough. 

It's a lot. To be touching you, finally. He grabs at the nape of your neck and kisses, kisses, kisses. He goes slowly, not quite sweetly. He's never been as sweet as you have, never as soft or patient.

It doesn't feel like it matters. 

You pull his hands from your face, press his and your own, all four hands to the collar of your shirt. 

"It wasn't just a, uh, pick up line, was it?" you ask breathlessly. 

"Wh- No." Eddie massages the back of your hands. "No, you're the fucking prettiest girl ever. I think you're aces. Killer. Everything." 

"Everything," you say, an almost indecipherable glassiness to your eyes. 

"Everything," he says. He spreads his hand over your heart. 

You don't throw yourself at him, but you move alarmingly quickly. Arms over his shoulders, hands crossed and buried in his hair. Your laugh is magic, a bright and exuberant sound loud in his ear and then the skin underneath. He's barely got an arm around the small of your back when you start to kiss him, repetitive, chaste pecks over his pulse. It capers under your lips. 

"I don't know what kind of girl you think I am-" He begins deadpan and breaks abruptly, your second wave of laughter impossible to ignore. 

Your arms tighten at his laughing, palm cupping the back of his head. 

"You're my best friend, too," he says. "But you knew that." 

"Maybe," you murmur, your smile wide against his skin. You're uncharacteristically mischievous. 

He lets his back bend under your weight until your heels lift and you're scrabbling to stay on your own two feet and is rewarded by your shrieking laughter. 

Oh, god, he thinks, ecstatic. 

"Wait," you say, bargaining for freedom as he squeezes you hard enough to make you laugh again, and again, "wait, wait! Wait, let go. I have something to tell you." 

Eddie sets you down. He's reluctant to let you go, almost desperate to hug you now that he knows he can, but his curiosity gets the better of him. What could you have to tell him now that isn't confessional? It's like being promised something good. 

You stand sure and sweet in front of him.

"It's…" You look shyly at his lips. 

"What?" 

"I…" 

He shakes his head gently from side to side. "What? Tell me." 

"Nothing," you say, beaming. Act dropped, you take his face into both hands and kiss him soundly. 

Eddie's barely got his hands on you before you're pulling back. 

"Just wanted to do that," you say. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | this fic is multi-chapter 

if you enjoyed (i I really hope you did), please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

[juniperstale]

i blinked, and suddenly i had a valentine — dazai, chuuya, ranpo

⋆ in which you get a valentine from someone else [ . . . gn!reader, sfw, lowercase intended, profanity, fluff, lowkey crack i think . . . ]

DAZAI cannot allow this. he is immediately pouty when he sees the flowers on your desk as the two of you walk into the office together. he concocts a plan silently, maybe he'll go through all the security footage and leave the son of a bitch a series of threatening messages till they quit or maybe he'll interrogate everyone throughout the day or maybe he'll- you're reading the message on the flowers. dazai panics, hurriedly moving to be back by your side again. what if you fall for them and leave him? his nerves settle when he notices you throw them out with an eye roll before turning to him.

"finish your work fast today, i made us reservations at your favorite restaurant, okay?" oh, looks like you're the one down bad for him. so he has nothing to worry about, after all.

CHUUYA makes a competition of it. this suitor thinks they can out love him? now that's called being delusional. they sent you a flower? expect a bouquet of your favorite flowers coming in the next 30 minutes. chocolates? chuuya already brought out all of your favorites, its literally out of stock everywhere. they brought you a card? chuuya will handwrite you a 100 page letter explaining how you're the best thing to happen to him. and if the suitors dares to ask you out in person? their world will be turned upside down. literally. chuuya will turn them upside down. its what they deserve, after all.

at the end of the day though, he is still human (? idk i haven't read stormbringer) and though he denies it, he does need a bit of comfort after fighting for you all day. it is you though. he will always fight for you.

RANPO doesn't mind. i mean, he's going to be the one eating the chocolates in the end so does it really matter? it does. it matters the minute you get bored of working and decide to read the letter the bozo left with the chocolates. he watches as a small smile creeps up onto your face and you let out a silent laugh. oh no, its time to put his detective skills to good use. within a few minutes he finds the scoundrel who sent you that letter based off the handwriting and... well he doesn't really have a plan after that so he tell the guy off and returns to your side.

he comes home a little later that night, with flowers and chocolates that he would also end up eating. but you don't mind. your just happy he's with you.

05.05.24. "a valentine fic in may?? what kind of brownie did u eat juni??" chuuyas was low key inspired by that one barbie life in the dreamhouse episode where ken and ryan are fighting to give her better valentines day presents. im so sleepy i'll check my grammar tmrw, gnight!

[youngbounty]

Something I noticed in The Boy Wonder #3 is how it shows Damian’s envy for Tim. It isn’t like with Jason, who believed Tim was a replacement for him. This is Damian wanting what Tim has and feeling unworthy because he doesn’t have it. It’s only in this issue that we see the shadow of Ra’s saying “weakness.”

The first time this is heard is when he’s with Tim talking about their plan. The narrator goes over how Damian is only working with Tim due to his failure to capture the demon in the last issue with Jason. This is the first time we see Ra’s shadow saying “weakness.” This is referring to Damian’s need for a chaperone or what he thinks is a chaperone. As readers that keep up with the Bats, we know Batman is only using this to teach Damian and Tim to work as a team.

The second time is at the gala when Tim is talking with Penguin, who offers him food and riches. Damian clearly despises this and finds Tim’s actions abhorrent. In Damian’s mind, Tim is using his father’s wealth to dulge himself in greed and gluttony. Those that keep up with the Bat comics know that Tim is putting on an act to extract information. However, Damian doesn’t see that. We see the shadow of Ra’s saying “weakness” once again, referring to Tim’s actions and why Damian refuses to participate.

The third time is when Damian leaves to do Robin work and Tim refuses to tag along. He questions Damian’s trust, believing he feels guilty for cutting the man’s head off, but questions if Damian feels bad because it is wrong or because he got caught. Ra’s shadow says “weakness” once again, showing a deeper meaning of what Damian considers “weak.” Even just feeling guilt or questioning his past guilt is considered weak in Damian’s eyes.

The final time is after Tim reveals his favor with Penguin was an act to go after the demon Damian is after. Damian confronts that he only made the incorrect assumption of Tim because he felt threatened by him, wanting to be more worthy than him. This time, Talia’s shadow joins in and we see a shadow of a dejected Damian. He feels greatly ashamed more for allowing his insecurities drive his choices instead of working with Tim or trusting him. Even his mother would disapprove, who ironically was the one who taught him the disgusting nature of gluttony and greed.

These show the root of Damian’s feelings toward Tim: envy. He feels this way because Tim has everything he wants. This makes sense when you consider the past comics. Unlike Jason or Dick, Tim is much closer to Damian’s age. He only got recently adopted, but was Robin way before when his parents were alive. He is not the blood son of Batman and was defeated easily by Damian, yet still has Batman’s trust and worthiness Damian doesn’t have. Tim isn’t broken like Jason or decided his own legacy like Dick, Barbara or Stephanie. Even when Dick took Batman’s mantle, Damian was expected to take it after he was older.

As a result, Damian sees himself as weak, unworthy and undeserving of the Robin mantle he was given. It feels that he only got to be Robin because of his eldest brother, not his father. Damian wants approval, he wants to be worthy of what he’s given.

From here, we see Damian pushing Tim out of the way to save him. It gives him the question he’s been ignoring, likely the very question he took as weakness: would Damian put his life on the line for another, then be strong enough to remember who he is when others try to force him on a different path?

Juni Ba makes it clear that Damian wants only approval he never truly had. His tension towards Tim was never out of hate, but jealousy. It’s only once confronting his insecurities that Damian is able to show us that he never hated Tim. That is his brother he will always put his life on the line for.

[aliceyed]

txt's reaction when you call them by their name

genre: fluff

pairing: bf!txt x fem!reader

warnings: none?

main masterlist

yeonjun

youre at yeonjun's house one day and you see a challenge on TikTok so you decide to try it.

"yeonjun in hungry wanna go out to get some food?"

??? yeonjun will give you the side eye literally yk that face he does. he's confused though you guys always use like baby or bae.

"definitely not after that."

then you act innocent, "what do you mean?"

ok now he's annoyed and doesn't reply you. you give up in your prank cause your actually hungry now.

"I'm sorry junie baby it was just a prank." and you have to give him hugs but he'll still be a little like 'hmph' but forgive you eventually cause he can't resist.

soobin

bros actually so confused when you come into his room and say "soobin I got you some coffee." he gives you like a wide eye stare from shock. he honestly thinks he did something wrong 😭😭. you hand him the coffee and he asks, "angel, did I do something wrong?" and omg you tried to stay strong really but like the look he was giving you was too cute you couldn't take it.

"IM SORRY BUNNY IT WAS A PRANK IM NOT MAD AT YOU."

then you hug him and kiss his face cause he's just too cute and soobin is super relieved.

beomgyu

ok now beomgyu. he will literally just ignore you like who TF is beomgyu??

so basically one day you guys are hanging out at a mall and then you go like, "beomgyu can we go over there!"

he just continues walking while looking at his phone so you try again, "hello? beomgyu?"

no reply again so you tug on his hand that your holding then he finally looks up from his phone and says, "what? I don't know a beomgyu I only know a gyu or baby." and he says it while pouting.

rolling your eyes you link your arms with him and say, "okay gyu babyy can we go over there." and he finally smiles and follows.

taehyun

ok um idk how you expect to prank The Kang Taehyun.

ok he just came home with dinner for you both and then you sitting at the dining table you see your fav food and your eyes light up.

"taehyun your finally homee I'm starving."

then he just smiles at you so sweetly and puts the food on the table hugging you. he's literally unaffected 😭😭 and your the one upset sulking. he looks at you a laughs, the audacity.

"what's wrong sweetheart?"

"why do you have no reaction to me calling you taehyun."

and he's just like, "well that's my name is it not?" impossible to prank him tbh.

huening kai

ok I think this baby will be quite similar to soobin. he'll think he did something wrong and apologizes immediately. he's too cute.

one day you guys go on a date and your like "huening, can you pass me that." and he's like oh no what did he do wrong.

"baby I'm sorry are you mad?"

OML HES TOO CUTE WHAT ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO DO.

"cutie I'm not mad I'm sorry it was a prank😭😭."

and you hug him so tight and he forgives you cause he's such an angel.

[teshadraws]

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 57]

<< First | < Previous | Next >

-

Tobias, Nia, and Junie travel south to find Will and the human settlement.

-

“You’ve got food and water for the road, and the map I gave you.”

“Yup and yup!”

“And you know what to do if anyone gives you trouble.”

“Bo, c’mon! Nia and Toby are stronger than they look. They’ll keep me safe.”

“Answer the question, Junebug.”

“Fine, fine. If anyone gives me trouble, I peck out their eyes.”

“Good egg.”

Tobias snorts. He and Nia, well-rested after an admittedly cozy night in Junie and Bolat’s home, lean against one of the tall pines to the side of the flying types’ home as they wait for them to finish saying their goodbyes. Junie seems ready to head out, at least, bouncing in place with the aforementioned map pinned under one of her tiny feet.

Now they just need Bolat to stop being an overbearing blissey.

Tobias looks up at slivers of blue sky as the wind rustles through the pines. It’s not as early as he usually likes to get going, mid-morning rather than dawn, but Junie and Bolat alike had refused to get up sooner. Outvoted three to one once Nia realized she had sleep-in backup, Tobias had settled for resting a bit longer, eventually flipping through Nia’s book about abilities out of boredom.

He’s glad they’re finally getting moving. The day looks nice, only a bit chilled by autumn winds, but he’s feeling restless. Ready to talk to Will and find out if the yamask has any answers. If not, then he’s ready to head back to the guild where they can see if August and the others came up with anything instead.

“Bo, we’ll be fine! Seriously!” Junie complains after another round of questions. “You worry too much.”

The skarmory gives Junie a playful nip with his wickedly sharp beak. “I don’t think you worry enough, for such a tiny thing. I’d prefer to escort you all there myself, but I can’t get someone to fill in for my mail route on such short notice.”

Nia cringes. “Sorry. I debated sending a letter ahead of time, but I thought it’d be a nice surprise for Junie.”

“It was!” Junie assures.

“We’ll be fine,” Tobias says, stepping forward and plucking the map out from under Junie’s foot before she loses it. He ignores her squawk of protest. “Luckily for these two, I can actually read a map.”

Bolat laughs as Junie pecks at Tobias’ leg and gets a light kick in return. “Good to hear. ‘Mon are fairly kind around this area, so just stop someone if you do get off the path and they should be able to guide you back.”

Nia and Tobias nod, and it falls quiet as Junie and Bolat both seem to realize there’s nothing else to be said.

“Bye, Bo,” Junie whispers, hopping forward to rub the top of her head against his metallic leg. “Sorry for ditching so suddenly. I’ll be back soon.”

Bo bends to rest his giant beak on Junie’s body. “Just come back safe, all right? We both know you have a penchant for trouble.”

Junie laughs, hopping back. “But I always find my way out of it!”

“Rarely on your own,” Tobias says. Nia elbows him.

“Oh, just wait and see if I save your butt next time you’re in trouble! You two have no room to talk!” Junie sticks her tongue out at him.

Tobias can’t resist doing the same.

“And on that note,” Nia says, laughter in her voice. “We’d better get going. Thanks again for letting us stay the night, Bo. And for the food! We’ll see you on our way back through, okay?”

“Safe travels, you three. Bring this little troublemaker back in one piece, all right? Too quiet around this place without her.”

Nia assures him that they will. Junie hops onto her shoulder, and the three of them start on the forested path back to Stonebrook, Nia and Junie waving until Bolat is completely out of sight.

Junie is directing Nia where to go, so Tobias lets himself fall back to pull out the map Bolat had lent them.

While the skarmory had pointed out their destination once already, the map is still more detailed than Tobias expects, spanning half the continent and even including some simple drawings to illustrate. He finds Stonebrook in the middle of the forest, then traces the path leading to the main road. From there, he moves south until the road leaves the forest entirely and enters the plains to the south. Eventually, the path hits the ocean at Kaleido Bay.

According to the skarmory, the human settlement is halfway between where the forest ends and the ocean begins, built into the side of a mesa off the main road. If they follow the trail south and stick to it, the mesa should be easy to spot. Bolat guessed that they could even make it there by nightfall, if they kept up a good pace.

Tobias looks up as they break from the pines and into the bright sunlight bathing Stonebrook in warmth. He would love to take a rest on one of the smooth, heated boulders strewn about the little village, but they have places to be. He folds up the map and tucks it into their satchel, then speeds up to match Nia’s stride.

“Marie makes the bestpastries ever,” Junie is saying, swooping around Nia as she points out different areas of the village. “Especially her pies. Ooh, we could stop and get one to eat on the way!”

“We can’t stop every time you get distracted,” Tobias says. “If we want to make it to Will’s by nightfall, we need to keep up a good pace.”

Junie pouts at him. “Spoilsport.”

“We do need to talk to Will as soon as possible,” Nia says, even as she lifts her nose into the air to sniff for pastries. “Maybe when we come back through?”

“Fiiine!”

Tobias takes the lead as they reach the path leading out of town. Junie doesn’t argue, instead diving into a conversation with Nia about what she’s been learning during her mail ‘mon training.

“So even though I’m tiny I could still carry letters and smaller packages. And if I did ever evolve—oh! Nia, have you seen a picture of what my evolution would be?!”

“I don’t think so?”

“I would be huge!” Junie says, swooping past Tobias to splay her wings wide. “Like, bigger than Bo!”

“Really?” Nia asks, eyes wide.

“Guess that’s one upside to the world ending,” Tobias says. “I don’t trust you with the power of a corviknight.”

Junie lands on the satchel looped around Tobias’ shoulder. “Aw, you scared?”

“No. You’d be a steel type. I’d scorch your feathers right off.”

“You wish!”

“You’d be a steel type?” Nia asks, curious.

“Yeah! Like Bo! Isn’t that neat?! Toby, you’re just jealous of how cool I’d be. I’d scare the pants off everyone!”

“Oh, please. I’d be a charizard. You’d be no match.”

“I still don’t think I’ve seen what a charizard actually looks like,” Nia says thoughtfully, head tilted. “You said you’d be big enough to carry me, right?”

“Easily. Charizard are strong flyers.”

“We could be flying buddies!” Junie chirps.

“Not a chance.”

“Flying,” Nia says, voice weak. “Great. How about land buddies instead?”

Tobias snorts, resigning himself to a day of lively conversation.

Their walk to the main road is uneventful. When they arrive, Tobias is a little surprised to see that the new path doesn’t look that different from the little trail to Stonebrook. It’s still a dirt road, just much wider and flattened from countless footsteps, the tall trees on either side a little more open to let in patches of sunlight.

The biggest change is how much busier this road is; they end up passing quite a few Pokemon on their way south. Mostly carts carrying goods between towns, some travelers on foot, and even another Seeker team or two, who give them cordial nods of acknowledgement as they pass.

Maybe an hour in, Nia and Junie take to guessing the names of each unknown species they see, making a game out of it with Tobias as the referee. After a bulky pignite passes by, the two wait until he’s out of sight before conspiring.

“Okay, what do we think?” Junie asks, perched on Nia’s shoulder. “Definitely something with ‘pig,’ right?”

“Hm…could be ‘boar’ instead,” Nia points out. “He had little tusks, right?”

“True. Okay, so ‘pig’ or ‘boar,’ and a fighting type.”

Nia frowns. “I was thinking fire, actually. He was a really bright orange.”

“Yeah, but did you see how jacked he was?! Plus, his fur kinda looked like was wearing a leotard or something. Definitely a fighting type.”

Nia hums doubtfully. “Okay, so fire or fighting? What does that give us?”

“Fire, fire, fire…cinder, maybe? Flame?” “Flame,” Nia murmurs. “Flame, flame…flambé?”

“Nia!” Junie gasps, sounding delighted. “Pork is not a thing here! You cannibal!”

“I-I wasn’t—they have a Pokemon called fidough, Junie! As in D-O-U-G-H! It’s a fair guess!”

Tobias barks a laugh, then quickly schools his expression when Nia and Junie look his way.

“Okay, okay!” Junie says, relenting. “Flambé’s on the table. So what’re our options? Flampig? Flamboar?”

“Flamboar’s not terrible,” Nia says. Then she gasps, paws clapping together. “I’ve got it! Flambabe!”

Tobias and Junie shoot Nia a puzzled look.

Nia shrinks back. “L-Like Babe the pig? From the book..?”

“Nerd,” Tobias and Junie say, in sync.

Junie gives Tobias a thrilled look. He gives her a horrified one in return. It’s not a good sign when they’re on the same wavelength.

“O-Okay, so it’s probably not flambabe!” Nia says, looking embarrassed. “Tobias, what’re they actually called?”

“It’s probably not even a pun this time,” Junie sighs.

“You sure you want to know?”

“Yeah!”

Tobias smirks. “…Pignite.”

A pause. Then Nia and Junie groan, defeated once more by the wordplay of the Ordirune language.

“But he was a fighting type, right?” Junie asks.

“I still think he looked a little fiery.”

Expectant, both of them look to Tobias once again.

“Pignite are fire types.”

“Yes!” Nia fist pumps.

“…And fighting types.”

“Yes!” Junie shouts.

“Wait,” Nia says. “So is that another tie?”

Their fourth tie in a row. Nia and Junie look at each other, then groan again, loud enough to startle a laugh out of Tobias.

______________________________________________________________

It’s early afternoon when they finally reach the edge of the forest, the trees thinning out into wide, flat fields of dry grasses. In the distance sits the faint, blocky shape of the mesa they’re looking for, tall amongst the flat landscape. Bolat wasn’t wrong—it’s certainly easy to spot.

They decide to stop there in the shade for lunch, pulling out the food Bolat had packed for them: mostly leftover berries and nuts from yesterday, as well as some bread that melts deliciously in Tobias mouth.

Maybe they do need to stop by that bakery on the way back.

They’re finishing up their meal food, looking out at the mesa, when conversation turns to Nia’s developing aura abilities.

“You can read minds now?!” Junie asks, beak dropping open to reveal a mouth full of mushed-up bread.

Tobias wrinkles his muzzle and reaches over to snap her beak closed.

Nia laughs, bashful. “Not exactly? It’s still mostly just emotions and, um…vague ideas of what they’re thinking? But they do get easier to understand if I’m really close to whoever I’m reading.”

The riolu glances at Tobias before looking away again. Tobias takes another bite of food and refuses to look at either of his companions, face burning hot.

Junie, unfortunately, catches the brief exchange. “Oh? And how did you find this out?”

“W-Well, I tested it out with some of my—some of ourfriends during training, and on my instructor.”

“And Toby joined in on the fun?”

Tobias glares at the little bird. “Val made me.”

Junie tweets a laugh. “Okay, okay, jeez. If looks could kill. So it doesn’t work if you aren’t really close to someone?”

“Well…” Nia tilts her head, lowering the bread she’d been nibbling on. “No. I can still latch on to their aura and get a vague idea of what they’re feeling. Like I always could. But with Tobias, it was almost like he was talking. It was more…specific.”

Tobias crunches into a chestnut to crack it open with his teeth. He still isn’t fond of that whole deal. Sure, if someone has to be peeking into his head, he’ll take Nia over almost anyone else, but those are his private thoughts and feelings. He doesn’t want someone poking around and judging him for what they find. He’s not a great Pokemon, but no one else needs to know that.

“So you took a little tour inside Toby’s head? Pretty nasty place, I bet,” Junie says.

Case in point.

Tobias reaches over and steals the rookidee’s last bluk berry, popping it into his mouth just to spite her.

“Hey!”

“You deserved it.”

“You kind of did,” Nia says, smiling sympathetically.

Junie huffs, but doesn’t argue. Then she perks up again, and Tobias knows what she’s going to say before the words even leave her mouth. “You should try it again on me! I wanna know if I can feel you rummaging around in my head.”

Nia doesn’t seem all that surprised by the request, either. Still, she looks cautious. “You sure? It’s kind of, uh. Private.”

“You said the same thing the first time you looked at my aura! C’mon, let’s try it!”

Nia laughs. “Okay, okay. I’ll, um, try it from a distance first, then use contact if that doesn’t work.”

Junie doesn’t argue, settling down a foot or so from Nia.

Nia closes her eyes, concentrating. Her paws remain in her lap.

Tobias watches, curious despite himself. Just because he doesn’t want to be the test subject doesn’t mean Nia’s powers aren’t interesting.

“Oh!” Nia’s eyes remain closed, but her brows shoot up. “I got it! And I didn’t even have to make contact first.”

“Does that mean you’re getting better at using your aura?” Junie asks. “Or that we’re besties?”

Nia makes a so-so gesture with her paw. “Probably a bit of column A, bit of column B? Stay there—I want to see how far I can get.”

Nia stands up, eyes still closed, and starts backing up across the grass.

“Rock,” Tobias calls, just in time for Nia to stumble and nearly fall on her tail. She shoots him a grin and a thumbs-up, eyes still closed, before continue to step back, slower this time.

Finally, Nia stops a few yards away from Junie. She’s frowning and tilting her head as if to hear better.

“I think this is my limit right now,” Nia says.

“That’s farther than it was at the guild,” Tobias points out.

“Can you tell what I’m thinking?!” Junie calls.

A moment of quiet. Then, Nia laughs. “Not exactly, but I can tell you’re trying to think of the weirdest things possible to catch me off-guard. You feel…playful?”

Junie laughs. “I’ll show you playful! Here, see if you can feel what flying is like!”

With that, Junie launches herself into the air.

“Oh, this should be good,” Tobias mutters, watching Junie flap higher above their heads. She catches a breeze, then falls backwards and does a loop-de-loop with more agility than Tobias expects. Huh. Maybe her training with the skarmory is helping after all.

Nia groans, sinking to her knees and looking sick. Her eyes crack open. “Ugh. Yup, I felt that.”

“You did?!” Junie calls, stopping to flap in place.

“Unfortunately. I swear I could feel my stomach flip.”

“Yeah, isn’t it awesome?”

Tobias snorts, watching as Junie does more loops and spins overhead, a dark blur against the bright blue of the sky. Her shadow passes over them.

Nia trudges back to Tobias’ side and plops down, still looking vaguely nauseous. “I don’t think I was built for the air.”

Tobias laughs. “You literally weren’t.”

Nia whines, tucking her head into her knees.

Tobias gives her another patronizing pat on the back before tilting his head back to watch Junie again. The little flying type is whooping with joy as she shows off, and Tobias is torn between envy and a weird sense of peace.

Tobias doesn’t hate having the rookidee around. He likes how happy she makes Nia, for one. And with such a heavy atmosphere hanging over them lately—what with the world ending and all—even Tobias can appreciate a bit of levity.

In some ways, Junie actually reminds him of his sister. Much more annoying, of course, much pushier, but she has a similar kind of wit and playfulness to her as Vivi did. At first the similarity rubbed him the wrong way, but it’s starting to feel familiar now. More entertaining than upsetting.

“Toby! Toby, watch this!”

She even uses the same stupid nickname.

Tobias rolls his eyes. “I’m watching!”

Junie tucks her wings and drops like a stone. Beside him, Nia yelps, tensing as if to jump up. But Junie snaps open her wings just in time and swoops low across the ground to flutter to a stop at their feet.

“Wasn’t that sick?!”

“It looked dangerous!” Nia frets.

“Nah, Bo showed me how to do it safely.”

“Bolat showed you how to do that?!” Nia asks, scandalized.

“Uh, yeah? I told you he has fun uncle energy. He’s not my dad.”

“Still!”

Tobias shakes his head, biting back a smile as he starts cleaning up the remains of their meal. It’s time to get moving again.

_____________________________________________________________

By time they find the fork in the road leading to Will’s settlement, it’s sunset and even Junie has quieted down, fatigued after a long afternoon of travelling the road through open fields under the hot sun. The mesa looms over them, still in the distance but close enough that they can pick out some of the finer details of its stone face and scraggly trees.

Noticing the branching path, Junie perks up from where she’s nestled into Nia’s neck fluff.

“Finally! I feel like we’ve been looking at that stupid rock forever. How much longer do you think we have?”

Tobias doesn’t answer, stepping onto the smaller trail leading in the direction of the mesa. Unlike the main road, this path is made for only one or two ‘mon at a time, dirt trail nearly swallowed by the long, dry grasses swaying gently around them.

“Maybe an hour or two, if I had to guess?” Nia says, squinting.

Junie whines, burying her face into Nia’s fur.

“You aren’t even the one walking,” Tobias grumbles, hopping down a shallow shelf of rock in the path.

“At least we can see where we’re heading,” Nia says, ever the optimist. “And it’s late enough that it’s going to start cooling down soon.”

“I guess.”

With that, they fall silent again. Slowly, the sky bleeds to a lavender gray, only their breaths and the whistle of the wind through rustling grass to keep them company. It’s nearly dusk by time they reach the foot of the mesa, its presence overwhelmingly tall above them. It brings to mind half-remembered sensations from Tobias’ childhood in the mountains.

The trail they’d been following starts to wind its way up a steep, mountainous incline. It’s almost serpentine, snaking through the environment, cobbled with rough stones underfoot and walled in by cliff faces, wiry trees, and foliage. Tobias, already tired from the journey here, is breathing hard within minutes. Junie takes mercy on Nia and hops down to trail along behind them.

Tobias isn’t sure how long they follow the trail, relying more and more on Tobias’ tail flame to light the way as the sky darkens. Nia and Tobias both trip more than once on the rough terrain, and take to skating their hands along the rocks and branches crowding on either side of the path to keep their balance. Junie at least doesn’t have to worry about going slipping into a ravine or sliding off the mountainside.

Tobias is getting close to calling that they stop to rest for the night, the conditions too dangerous to traverse with such low light, when they round a bend and see…lights.

“Oh, look,” Nia says, stopping.

Tobias and Junie stop too, staring across the small canyon they’ve been ascending.

On the other side, tucked under the shelf-like lip of the top of the mesa, sprawls a surprisingly sizeable town, seemingly carved into the side of the cliff itself. The buildings are angular structures made of stone, and there is enough golden light spilling from windows and open doors to illuminate them, an oasis of warmth in the sprawling darkness of night.

“It’s beautiful,” Nia murmurs.

“It almost looks like a human city!” Junie says.

It’s…fine. Tobias doesn’t understand why they’re fussing so much.

“C’mon,” Tobias says, moving forward again. “Almost there.”

Luckily for their sore, tired feet, they wind their way around the canyon and to the entrance of the village relatively quickly.

There, a hulking mass of purple armor and pointed barbs is stationed. A nidoking. Tobias remembers seeing him at the human convention, but he still stops in his tracks as the poison type’s beady eyes lock onto them.

Before anyone can say anything, a high voice speaks up.

“Oh, hey! It’s you three!”

Tobias blinks. Then, movement catches his eye. It’s a tiny yellow blur, hopping down from the nidoking’s shoulder and skittering across the rocky dirt to stop before the trio. A young joltik, his fluffy yellow fur bright against the darkness. He’s barely the size of Tobias’ hand.

Tobias’ brow furrows at the familiar greeting. He glances up at the nidoking to make sure this isn’t some sort of trap, then back at Nia and Junie. They seem just as lost as he is.

“I’m sorry,” Nia says, stepping forward and crouching down. “Um. Have we met?”

The joltik cocks his head, but then looks down at himself and chirps, “Oh, right!”

The little bug type leaps up, tucks into a roll, and in a flash of cool blue light, grows over five times as big before landing on four paws. His coat is orange with black stripes and accented with fluffy cream fur.

“I’m Asher!” The growlithe pup yips, tail wagging proudly. “I ran into you at the convention, remember?”

Tobias stares, still more caught off guard by the haunting coat pattern than anything.

“Whoa!” Junie shoves forward. “How’d you do that?!”

Asher snickers, leaps up again, and in another icy blue flash lands on more delicate paws. They’re a deep red against his dark gray coat, matching the tuft of red fur sitting atop his head beween pointed ears. His golden eyes are bright as sparks.

Tobias breathes again.

“I’m a zorua, duh!”

“Don’t duh me! I’m human. How was I supposed to know that?”

“Humans don’t seem to know a lot of things.”

“Hey!”

While Junie and Asher squabble, Tobias takes another breath to calm himself. It’s better with the growlithe visage gone. Zorua are tricksters, but he can handle a trickster better than a growlithe.

“Can zorua turn into…anything?” Nia whispers to Tobias, eyes wide and ears perked. Tobias can practically see the questions building on her tongue.

“Any Pokemon, yeah.”

He snorts despite himself as Asher morphs into a rookidee, Junie’s mirror image. The real Junie squawks, outraged, and bats at him with a wing. Asher laughs, and for a brief moment Tobias sees a flicker of gray fur and red paws before he perfects the illusion once more.

“They’re more like…illusions, though, rather than actual transformations.”

That doesn’t deter Nia’s obvious fascination. She asks Asher if he can turn into her as well, and the zorua does so in a heartbeat, grinning at Nia’s awestruck expression.

“As fun as this is,” Tobias interrupts, still eyeing the silent mass of nidoking nearby. “Can we go inside?”

“Oh!” Asher morphs again in a flash, changing into another charmander, just without Tobias’ scarf. “Sure! C’mon! I can show you around. I know everything about this place.”

Asher skips towards the nidoking and the light of the town behind him. Junie giggles at the sight while Nia bites back a smile. Tobias huffs, following the cheeky kid with a lash of his tail.

The nidoking is even more intimidating up close. Over four times their height and just as wide, with a variety of scars. Tobias can feel the nidoking’s weight and strength as he shifts, looking over each of them.

“Hi, Slate!” Asher chirps.

The massive nidoking grunts in return. “You know them?”

“Sorta! They were at the human convention in Ghatha.”

Slate nods, stepping aside and shifting his heavy tail out of the way.

“Thanks, Slate! I’ll bring you more gummies tomorrow.”

Slate doesn’t answer, but Asher isn’t fazed. He shifts into a meowth and trots by the nidoking with his tail held high. “You haven’t been here before, right?”

“No,” Tobias answers, looking around as they enter town.

A path leads around the outside of the village, a sturdy wall of stones to their right to prevent anyone from tumbling off the cliff. Periodically, torches are perched atop the stone to provide light. To their left, they pass tall buildings constructed of rocks and mortar, where golden light and laughter spill from open windows into the cooling night air.

“So what do you wanna see first? We’ve got all kinds of cool human stuff here! Like…clothes! You guys like clothes, right? We have someone who makes those!”

“You do?” Nia asks, tail wagging in excitement. She picks up her pace to match Asher. Junie hops onto her shoulder to listen as well. Tobias trails behind.

“Yeah! But they aren’t working right now, since it’s late. Oh! Do you want a bath? We have a soapmaker here, too. All the humans go crazy for soap.”

“You have soap?!” Nia asks, voice cracking. She sound like she’s about to cry.

Asher laughs. “Yeah! I don’t really like it. Too strong for me. But we can get you some to use! I know they’ve been working on new, uh…flavors? Scents!”

“What else do you have?” Junie asks, sounding just as excited as Nia.

“Lotsa stuff! Oh! We have someone who makes games and toys, too! You definitely have to visit him. He’s the best.”

Tobias falls farther back, continuing to look around as the three babble on. Most of the inhabitants seem to be inside as night settles in, but the group passes one or two ‘mon out and about. They’re wearing more cloth than Tobias is used to seeing outside of cold weather. A flaaffy has a billowy transparent shawl around their shoulders and another tied around their hips, and a strangely familiar-looking elekid and sandile wearing lightweight scarves scamper by right after.

One building’s door is propped open, and Tobias glances in as they pass by. While the group of Pokemon inside don’t seem to be related biologically, all different species and types, they laugh comfortably with one another as they play games and chat. They’re sitting around a small firepit in the center space of the home. Tobias catches sight of large alcoves set into the rounded walls behind them, with blankets spilling out. Nests?

There are large jars bordering the empty wall off to the side of the group, likely for water. Plus a table with some chairs, books in a small bookcase, floors covered in rugs, and even a few pieces of art hung on the walls.

It's…cozy-looking, admittedly. Spacious enough, but warm. Lived-in.

“Is that a band?!” Junie asks from up ahead, just a smidge too loud.

Her question snags Tobias’ attention, and he jogs to catch up with the three of them. Nia and Junie are looking expectantly at a small outdoor area, with a little fire pit lit in its belly. A small crowd of Pokemon—of humans—are gathered around its edges, reclined and chatting across tiers of stone steps.

In the center, near the fire, a trio of Pokemon do appear to be preparing for a song. A clobbopus hovers their broad tentacles over a pair of drums. A loudred is holding a delicate wooden flute to his lips with giant hands. The last Pokemon, a brionne, appears to be a singer. She has a flipper held to her throat, her eyes closed as she hums to herself.

Nia, Junie, and even Asher gravitate towards the performers with shining eyes. Tobias sighs, resigning himself to listening too, and stands next to his partner.

The drummer start first, jumping right into a tempo so quick that their tentacles are a blur of movement. The crowd’s chatter slows and quiets. After a moment, the flutist joins in with surprising grace, their sharp notes somehow weaving perfectly around the drumbeats. Finally, a few beats later, the vocalist starts up, raising her chin and closing her eyes to release a high, haunting note.

Tobias feels a chill roll over the skin on his arms, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it. He was hoping these three would be terrible. Instead, as the brionne sings a few more wordless notes, her voice lilting high and low in tandem with the flute, Tobias has to admit they’re…good. Really good. His fingers twitch towards the satchel at his hip, wanting to pull out his guitar and join in.

He chances a glance at Nia and Junie. Both of them are enraptured, and Nia even looks a little emotional. Tobias wonders if she knows the song, or if it’s just his partner being her usual sensitive self.

Tobias huffs and closes his eyes, letting the stupidly beautiful music wash over him. The night breeze drifts by, cool, but it carries some of the warmth and scent of the bonfire with it, too. He should probably be enjoying this.

Eventually, minutes later, the song dies away with a warbling high note. The crowd breaks into applause, whistling and cheering.

“Wasn’t that great?” Nia leans over to whisper, eyes shining. Apparently she remembers that he exists again.

“It was fine,” he grumbles.

Nia gives him a more focused look, smile faltering. “Are you okay?”

“Asher!” A voice calls from behind them, cutting Tobias off before he can respond.

Asher jumps and squeaks at the voice, meowth tail bottlebrushing as he spins around. “H-Hey Dad!”

Tobias turns around to see a jolteon moving towards them at a brisk pace. Tobias can’t tell if his fur is the normal level of spiked for a jolteon, or if it’s pricklier than usual from the worried annoyance Tobias can read on the Pokemon’s face.

The jolteon seems surprised when he notices Tobias, Nia, and Junie, though, slowing to a stop. “Oh! Hello there. I…wasn’t aware we had newcomers.”

“We’re not,” Tobias says.

“We just got in tonight. We were hoping to talk to Will about something,” Nia says. “A-And maybe stay for a night or two to rest afterwards? We ran into Asher at the convention in Ghatha, so he was showing us around.”

“He’s supposed to be cleaning his room,” the jolteon says, giving Asher a dry look.

“Can’t it wait until after I show them around?” Asher whines. “Cerise is singing tonight!”

The jolteon’s stern expression doesn’t falter, but he does sigh. “You can come with me as I show them around, but after that you’re cleaning up your toys.”

“Fiiine,” Asher groans. He transforms back into a zorua and moves to the jolteon’s side, tail held low. “I wasn’t doing anything bad.”

“He’s been really helpful, actually!” Nia assures.

The jolteon’s spines relax a bit more. “Well, that’s good to hear, at least. Did you three want to keep watching the show? I’d imagine you’re likely half-asleep if you traveled here by foot, but Cerise is quite the treasure.”

“Well…” Nia glances longingly over her shoulder at the band as they start up their next song, and then at Tobias.

There’s a sudden loud gurgle, and all of their heads snap down to look at Junie.

For once, the rookidee almost seems embarrassed. Still, she laughs. “Uh. You got any food?”

The jolteon chuckles. “I think that can be arranged. Come with me. We can always show you around more tomorrow.”

The jolteon trots down the path, deeper into town. The rest of them follow as the band’s next song drifts into the air. Their group passes by a few other Pokemon, but Tobias doesn’t pay them any mind until he sees Nia do a double-take, slowing to a stop.

“What?” Tobias asks.

“That Pokemon looked like Seiji. The scientist who helped me with my aura at the convention?”

Tobias turns to look at the group again. Sure enough, there’s a little blue disk of a bronzor bobbing along with the others.

“Oh, have you met before?” The jolteon asks, doubling back.

“Briefly,” Nia answers. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting to see him here.”

“Ah. Well, we had a large surge in numbers after the fire. Lots of humans didn’t feel safe after that, unfortunately.”

Tobias suddenly realizes why that elekid and sandile they’d passed by earlier looked familiar. They’d seen the electric-type at the convention, having trouble containing his electricity, and Tobias had pulled that very sandile out of the building’s rubble himself.

“Is everyone here because of stuff like that?” Junie asks, hopping onto a nearby stone to be closer to eye-level.

“Not everyone, but the majority. With the way the world is breaking down, animosity towards humans has only gotten worse. They come here for sanctuary. For likeminded folks who they can connect to and feel safe with.”

Tobias frowns. On one hand, he gets that—he feels an automatic kinship with other Seekers, after all, and fire types. But something about all of the humans hiding out here still feels…wrong. Nia’s happy at the guild, right? She always gets so excited about meeting new Pokemon and learning new things. Do these humans really want to trade all of that away? Is the world really so scary to them that they have to hide from it entirely?

Tobias glances at Nia and Junie.

Nia’s brow is furrowed, but Tobias isn’t sure exactly what she’s thinking.

Junie tilts her head at the jolteon. “That makes sense, but how did you get here?”

“Pardon?” The jolteon asks, looking surprised.

“Well, you’re the kid’s dad, right?” Junie asks, glancing at Asher. The zorua has transformed into a vulpix and is absentmindedly chasing his own tails. “He told us he wasn’t a human at the convention, so…”

“Junie!” Nia admonishes, looking embarrassed.

“What?! It’s a valid question!”

It is, actually. Tobias had forgotten about that. He narrows his eyes at the jolteon.

…Who he hasn’t gotten the name of yet.

The jolteon doesn’t look cornered by the question. He simply laughs. “Ah, right. Well, I’m close with Will, so I just wanted to help him out. I’m not the only non-human here.”

“Really?” Nia asks.

“Of course.” The jolteon sits back, looking at ease. “We couldn’t have built up this village with just the humans, especially at the beginning.”

“Slate’s not human!” Asher muffled voice chimes in. His fluffy tails are caught in his jaws, and he’s still spinning in a circle. “He helped us build a lot since he’s so strong!”

“Why?” Tobias asks. The humans he gets—they feel safer here, and they’re hoping Will is their ticking to returning home. But natural-born Pokemon?

“Most of them were hired during the building process and just decided to stick around,” the jolteon says, shrugging his shoulders. “Some of them want to go to the human world, too.”

Junie frowns. “How would that work if they don’t have a human body to go back to?”

“Will’s been looking into that. The research team figures that if humans were given a body to fit into this world, then the same should happen for Pokemon going the opposite direction. If not, then they’ll likely just keep their Pokemon forms.”

Tobias exchanges a doubtful look with Nia. They both know the truth, after all, that Nia and Junie were only given their Pokemon forms because Mew created them. Although yamask are formed without any interference, so…

The jolteon catches their look. “You said you wanted to talk to Will, right? Is it about getting back to the human world?”

“To…an extent,” Nia answers. “It’s related, but it’s actually more to do with the natural disasters. We were hoping he could help us with a lead.”

The jolteon hums, glancing down at Asher as his son rolls over with a flash and turns into an eevee, weaving between his legs. “I’m sure he’d be willing to talk, but he’s likely retired for the night. Can it wait until morning?”

Tobias opens his mouth to say no, but Nia beats him to it.

“Sure!” At Tobias’ glare, she adds. “W-We need to rest anyways. One night shouldn’t hurt, right?”

Tobias doesn’t argue, much as he wants to. He is exhausted. And he wants to be in top form when they talk to Will.

“I vote food and sleep!” Junie chirps.

The jolteon smiles. “We can manage that. Come on. Not much farther now.”

The jolteon turns to go, but Tobias steps forward first. “Wait. First—what’s your name?”

Both Nia and Junie look startled, first by the sudden question and then by the realization that they’d made it this far into the conversation without such a basic exchange.

The jolteon looks at them for a moment, then laughs. Tobias doesn’t like it. “Right, my apologies. I forget sometimes, with newcomers. Here. You’re probably more familiar with this face.”

The jolteon doesn’t need to leap up, and simply flashes a bright purple before he transforms into a psychic type ponyta, with a fluffy mane and a small black horn.

Junie gasps and points a wing. “The My Little Pony!”

Nia yelps, “Fidel?!”

Fidel smiles, sidestepping Asher as the kid tries to tackle his legs. “We didn’t get to talk much at the Ghatha convention, with everything that happened. But I remember you three. Nia and Junie, wasn’t it? And…”

“Tobias!” Junie offers up.

Tobias flicks her with his tail, nearly knocking her over.

“Are you a zorua too?” Nia asks. She looks a little embarrassed about the bluntness of her question, but it’s clear she’s been thrown for a loop by this revelation.

“Not quite.” In another quick purple flash, Fidel transforms again. Then he’s twice his previous size, towering over the rest of them. Lanky, powerful arms are covered in deep gray fur and tipped with long red claws. Longer red fur flows from atop his head and around his neck like a mane. Sharp face, sharp ears, sharp smile.

“Dad’s a zoroark!” Asher says proudly, transforming back into a zorua and craning back to look up at Fidel. “If I do stay a Pokemon when we go to the human world, I’m hoping I’ll be able to evolve there! Then I can make illusions for all the big Pokemon that Dad can. Right?”

Fidel leans down to nose his son’s head with a tight smile. “Right.”

Tobias frowns. So Fidel is planning on going to the human world with his son? That feels…off. Even if Fidel and Will are friends. Even taking the natural disasters and mystery dungeons into account. Would that really be enough for Fidel to take his son away from the only world they know?

“Are there other zoroark around?” Junie asks, clearly from a place of curiosity and not the suspicion Tobias is feeling.

“Oh! Right!” Nia says, tail wagging excitedly. “You’re a canine—do zorua and zoroark travel in packs like riolu and lucario do?”

Fidel gives Nia an amused look. “I don’t see much of a pack with you right now.”

“That’s ‘cause she’s got us!” Junie says, hopping up to perch on Nia’s shoulder. “Much more versatile.”

Fidel looks endeared by the idea. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Me and Dad are the only zors around here,” Asher adds. He scrambles up his dad’s back to burrow into the zoroark’s fluffy mane. A moment later, his little face pokes out to look at them. “Sometimes I wish there were more, but it is fun playing pranks since no one here is good at seeing illusions.”

“Which is a habit we’ve been trying to break.”

Asher snickers and burrows back into Fidel’s mane.

Fidel sighs, but the sound is fond. He looks down at the three of them. “How about I finally get you all to the inn?”

Tobias doesn’t argue, trailing behind Nia and Junie as they chat with the zoroark. The dark type leads them to one of the larger structures, near the edge of the settlement. It’s a tall, tan building made of stacked stones and mortar, golden light spilling from its windows.

The door is cracked open, so Fidel nudges his way inside. They follow, finding themselves in a spacious room taking up the entirety of the first floor. A brightly patterned rug circles the floor, a  fire pit at its center, providing light and warmth. An assortment of alcoves line the rounded walls. Some are large enough to hold entire Pokemon and have blankets folded up inside, ready to be used as nests. Another section of the wall has much smaller nooks dug into the stone. For storage, likely, considering the wrapped goods and jars Tobias spots there.

There’s a torracat lying in one of the sleeping shelves, a blanket draped over her. She’s using a claw to carefully carve into a chunk of wood, the little alcove lit by the glowing bell at her throat. Her ear twitches, and she glances up at the newcomers.

“We’ve got a few late-night visitors, Clara. Think you can get them settled in with some food and a bed for the night?”

The torracat sighs, setting down her carving and slipping to the ground to stretch. Her black and red striped pelt ripples. “Only for you, Del.”

“Thank you.” Fidel smiles. “I have to get Asher to clean up his room and—”

The zoroark cuts himself off, blinking. He pats at his mane, then looks down around his legs. Asher is gone. They all give the room a quick glance, but the zorua is nowhere to be seen.

Fidel’s expression falls flat. “No desserts for him for a week. You’ve got this, Clara?”

Clara looks amused, whiskers twitching. She gestures him out with a paw. “I can handle ‘em. Go catch your kid.”

“Thank you.” Fidel gives them all a tired smile and a nod. “I’ll come get you tomorrow morning when Will is free. Rest well.”

With that, Fidel slips back out the door.

Clara yawns, showing off sharp teeth. “Well. Let’s get you settled, I guess. You could’ve came a bit earlier, y’know. I was in the middle of something.”

“Sorry,” Nia says, sheepish. “We, uh, came a long way.”

“Isn’t this your job?” Junie asks, much less apologetic.

“Eh, kinda.” The torracat slinks to the side of the room where the smaller alcoves sit in the wall, full of goods. She flicks her tail for them to take a seat on the ground by the fire. “As much of a job as you need here, at least.”

“Which means..?”

“Will takes care of us whether we work or not,” Clara says, pulling down wooden plates and some wrapped goods to throw together a late-night meal. “I just like having a bit of pocket money.”

“That’s kind of him,” Nia says.

“Yeah,” Tobias says, doubtful. “How did he hire the ‘mon to build this place if he’s throwing money around like that?”

“Maybe he found a good job?” Nia suggests.

“Or he found hidden treasure!” Junie chirps.

“Mm. Dunno, don’t care.” Clara unwraps the packages to reveal breads, cheeses, berries, and nuts. Tobias’ stomach growls. “It’s chill here, and that’s all I care about.”

Nia and Junie continue the conversation as Clara puts together a little snack plate for each of them. Tobias crosses his arms and leans back against the wall, unsatisfied. Maybe he is being overly cautious, but he’d argue he’s just compensating for Nia and Junie’s lack of caution. Someone’s gotta make sure they don’t end up dead from trusting the wrong ‘mon.

But at least for tonight, he’ll rest. Tomorrow they can see what Will has to say.

[mostlyihyperfixate]

WrightWorth Fic Recs II: Legal Boogaloo

I've had some upper respiratory goop for eleven days and I woke up with a pounding migraine, so it's time for this month's fic recs while I wait for my medication to kick in!

I'm sure most of you guys have already read this stuff, so I'm not, like, doing this because I think I'm gonna introduce anything special. I just like to gush a lil' about stuff that makes me happy.

As always, feel free to offer me recs yourself in some capacity!

The Things We Agree to Believe are True by actual_goblin

Rating: Teen Content Warning for amnesia, angst, blood, and implied/referenced suicide Status: Finished

Recommended to me by @starsarestaringatyou.

Someone really said, "Well, if one character with amnesia is good, what if they both had amnesia?" And I love every minute of it. I sat down and read this entire thing in one fell swoop. I could not stop. It's weird, but completely internally consistent, so everything is very easy to follow. I've lost track of the number of times I've reread this. I'm afraid if I say more, I'll spoil things. It's very, very sweet, and if amnesia fics interest you even a little, I highly recommend this one!

This man is not your boyfriend by its_ok_inside

Rating: Teen Content Warning for amnesia Status: Finished

Also recommended to me by @starsarestaringatyou.

A very cute amnesia one shot. This one is a bit unusual in that there's no angst! So if that's what keeps you from this sort of story, I recommend this one. There's just a bit of pining on Miles' end, and the rest is two bros chillin' in a legal office one foot apart because they're definitely gay. It's very fluffy, and I reread this one a lot, too, when I want a quick hit of cuteness.

Legal Partners by Miggy

Rating: Teen Content Warning for miscommunication Status: Finished

This one is a little rom-com-esque, but the characters themselves (especially Ema) are well aware of that. This is the story that first allowed me to think of Klavier as having some depth. It is the level I hold all semi-seriously written Klaviers to now. There's a little bit of Klavier/Ema and Klavier/Apollo in here (both ships I like, and I hardly ever get to see the former), but ultimately Klavier ends up with something he needs more than a romantic relationship, and I love this fic for that. Everybody gets enough attention that their inclusion in the story doesn't feel obligatory. There's also the added bonus of a well-written case for Apollo and Klavier to handle throughout the story!

It Would Feel So Good To Make You Mine by hi_its_ellis and lowbatteryhealth

Rating: Teen Status: Finished

Just randomly picked something from my list last Saturday and wound up reading this throughout the day. Reread it again sometime this week. It's cute. There's established Fran/Maya and Athena/Junie as well, if you're into either of those ships. Words cannot express how wonderfully adorable this entire thing is. If you want something that's got enough conflict to keep you reading without there being any real upsetting tension or angst at all, this for you. There's no big miscommunication; just Miles and Phoenix driving everyone around them crazy with their unique brand of stubborn idiocy.

How to Court A Fool in Under Three Months by snowyrunes

Rating: Teen Content Warning for miscommunication Status: Finished

Pure, 100% rom-com goodness. This has everything you would expect out of a rom-com movie, and it's written spectacularly well. There's some established background Fran/Maya. I love seeing Fran successfully interact with kiddos, so her relationship with Trucy in this especially makes me happy--not to mention I prefer my Frans to like Phoenix in some capacity, and that's here, too. I admit that I haven't been able to get very far into the (unfinished) sequel due to the sheer amount of second-hand embarrassment I feel, but I highly recommend the first story for sure!

Pride & Prejudice & Turnabout by paintedkneecaps

Rating: Teen Status: In Progress Content Warning for Pride and Prejudice AU

On the sliding scale of cynical to sunshine Phoenix, this is firmly at the sunshine end. If you are very, very particular about how people work with Pride and Prejudice and that time period (like, to the point where you can't stand the Kiera Knightly movie, for example), this is not going to be the story for you. It's, as the author puts it, a "vibes only" AU, which I think is really a strength in this case. I've read too many "AU"s that are just slapping Ace Attorney characters names over the originals. This has a lot of thought put into the characters, and the quotes from the original work feel like friendly little winks instead of being awkwardly shoved in. I look forward to every Thursday when I get another dose of this!

[inbarfink]

I legit think that the way that ‘Dual Destinies’ utilizes it’s nonlinear episode order is really neat and well-thought of! Like, it just gets so much more out of it. Not just, like, the whole building up the mystery of ‘ooooooh why is Apollo an Angsty Guy in a Coat’ thingy. But more of, like, when ‘the Cosmic Turnabout’ starts and you realize that you’re ‘catching up’ with the timeline and suddenly the entire case has this extra layer of Suspense around it. Like, ‘let the audience know that a Bomb is going to Explode soon’ is almost literally the textbook definition of suspense!

But then also, as the trial keeps going the player might put that whole 'bomb' thing to the side to focus on the immediate case-solving so when it suddenly comes back it is both shocking and expected at the same time!

And when the Trial starts and you see Apollo with the bandaged eye and… first and foremost it makes it totally unambiguous that we’re ‘catching up’ with the Present of case 1. Like, some non-linear AA games can make it hard to keep up with what events happen in what order - but here it is immediately visually obvious that we are almost back to the present. But also, it’s the misdirection. How the player was just left to assume that Apollo’s eyepatch is just another injury from the explosion and suddenly the game just quickly nonchalantly establishes that no, this is a separate thing. And now, we’ve got another mystery on our hands that we didn’t even consider at first!

And it also plays very well emotionally with Case 3, ‘Turnabout Academy’, and the Athena-Juniper drama. Because, like, the whole point is that Athena remembers Juniper as this soft-spoken little sweetheart from her childhood and then they meet in Lawyer High School and she’s all cold and professional. And we the players don’t get to experience Athena and Juniper’s childhood…. But we do get to see a lot of her in the flash-forwards Case 1, where she is acting like her old self again.

So while on one hand the Player knows some things about Juniper’s different behavior that Athena does not (namely, that it’s a temporary thing and they'll be back to being close friends sooner or layer) - we also feel Athena’s confusion and distress on a much more personal level. Even though we know this is a flashback case, it does kinda feel like our Ol’ Buddy Junie is suddenly being cold to us, too!

And for the Ace Attorney game that tries to be all about emotions… I think these are pretty neat!

[deviltsunoda-writes]

flowers / fernando alonso x ofc! kpop idol

summary; nobody expected fernando alonso to date a kpop idol

note; i am back in my kpop groove again fml

972,204 likes

kangjuni: JUNI EP ALBUM [Flowers]

2023.02.15 7PM (KST)

#JUNI #주니 #Flowers

#YGENTERTAINMENT #엔터테인먼트

View all 7,776 comments

Liked by charles_leclerc and 742,928 others

kangjuni: JUNI EP ALBUM [Flowers]

2023.02.15 7PM (KST)

TRACKLIST POSTER

#JUNI #주니 #Flowers

#YGENTERTAINMENT #엔터테인먼트

View all 4.553 comments

user: Fernando and Charles??

user: Huh?

charles_leclerc: It was a pleasure to work with you Juni!

Liked by scuderiaferrari and 2,234,837 others

kangjuni and charles_leclerc:

JUNI EP ALBUM [Flowers]

2023.02.15 7PM (KST)

'NOW (feat. Charles Leclerc)'

#JUNI #주니 #CharlesLeclerc #NOW #Flowers 

#YGENTERTAINMENT #엔터테인먼트

View all 30,444 comments

user: They've gotta be together

user: 올해의 노래!

user: Charles x Juni my parents

user: Y'all are forgetting that there's an 11 year age gap between them

user: Nah forget Charles x Juni, Juni x Fernando is where it's at

Liked by astonmartinf1 and 71,077 others

fernandoalo_official: your touch makes me feel like i'm floating forever

View all 389 comments

user: Fernando soft launch??

user: Interesting…that's the English translation of Forever by Juni…

user: If he's happy, I'm happy

Liked by __youngbae__ and 2,532,083 others

kangjuni: Flowers; a letter. 

To Teddy, Kush, Vince and Hunseol. Thank you for working your magic on this album. It has been an absolute pleasure to work with you all, and hopefully we can do it again in the future! When I approached you three with an idea, I had no idea it would turn into something this big. 감사합니다!

Ducky, my big bro! Working with you is like a dream come true, ten year old me would be over the moon.  Jay, even though we've known each other since 2005, it has taken us this long to actually collaborate. Can you believe it? Charles, you're one of the most talented people I know, never let anyone take your spirit.

To my brothers, Seunghyun, Daesung, Jiyong and Youngbae. Look at us now. I'm so proud of what we've achieved, and what we're going to do in the future. The first day I met you all, I had no clue how I was supposed to work with four boys, but I'm so glad I stuck it out. Seunghyun, our wine dates kept me going through this creative process - the hangovers not so much. Daesung, my smiley brother. You cheer me up even in the darkest of times, though I do wish you'd wear more than just socks when you play the drums! Jiyong, like you've led BIGBANG through hard times, you've helped me so much personally. Thank you for all your advice, though it really should be me advising you! And Youngbae. You helped me with this album, even when you were completely sleep deprived from dealing with my nephew. Thank you for letting me crash on your couch, steal your food and steal your son when I'm craving auntie/nephew days.  I love you all so incredibly much. BIGBANG is forever. 

To my fans. This album is for you. It's a love story, a romcom, the perfect glass of wine, a warm bath on a cold day. Thank you for supporting me from day one.

And finally, to my husband. Nando, this album wouldn't have happened without you. You've supported me through everything - my brothers joining the military, hiatuses, creative slumps and crazy fans - and I don't know what I would do if you weren't firmly in my corner. You've given me a fair few heart attacks throughout our relationship, and you continue to do so, but that's what I love about you. 

Always yours, 

Kang Juri. 

Comments on this post have been disabled.

writer's note; i am incredibly proud of this one

[grimalkinmessor]

6, 8, 15 for lawlight pleaseee!

🖤🤍

6. How do they make up/apologize after an argument?

Well, I'm certain that neither of them apologize, at least not verbally; they're both too prideful for it. I think that L makes up by giving gifts (read: bribes) when Light is angry with him, but that rarely works so he has to resort to making Light feel powerful in some way. Whether that's through revealing a secret/weakness or simply letting him top, that's up to you :3

Light is....more complicated, because while getting L to admit he's wrong is like pulling teeth, Light won't admit he's wrong at all. He's kind of incapable of it when it's something he gives a shit about. But, then, he kinda gives a lot of shits about L himself, so therein lies the problem. On smaller matters, Light can begrudgingly take 'defeat' and admit that L was right but not that he was wrong, but for everything else.... Yeah, the most you're getting out of him is a roundabout concession over something else that is far less important but still somehow ties back to the thing they were arguing about.

But L loves his prideful little monster, so he knows what to expect in the end really lmao

8. What do they love most about the other? Why?

For ME personally, L loves that Light is fucking insane. He's seen people like that before, of course, but they've never been on his level, never truly come to KNOW him like Light has, never mirrored him so exactly in intelligence and ruthlessness. Never gave him so much fun. Granted, Light's flavor of haughty insanity isn't what made L fall in love with him, but it is the biggest reason he loves him 🥰

For Light, he loves how much of a challenge L is. He never gives Light an inch, and if he does it's only to further his own goals and agenda. He's able to see through Light's lies and politeness down to the monster beneath—L is the only one who ever truly sees him. And Light can't help but love and hate him for it. But mostly love ;3

15. What songs remind you of their relationship?

I actually don't have that many for them, surprisingly! And what I do have is fairly generic, but I'll try and find some of my gems for you! :D

↑ Obligatory Junie & The Hut Friends song because I have to have at least one in every playlist and this one just fits the lawlight vibe ✨

↑ A bit of a classic one for me, again. If they beat the fuck out of each other regularly then this is my go-to song :3

↑ This one is Light to me 😌 Light descending into madness because he's realized his feelings for L and is disgusted with himself and listing all the things he hates about L, berating himself for falling in the first place all while the derangement takes over as he realizes he still has to kill him 💅✨

↑ IT'S T H E M YOUR HONOR LIKE PLZZZZZZ UNDERSTAND THIS IS THEM TO A T I CAN'T TELL YOU YOU JUST HAVE TO LISTEN 🙏🙏🙏

↑ I'm so sorry, I'm not usually a k-pop groupie but my little sisters were watching the music video for this one and it just SCREAMS lawlight I don't know how else to explain it 😭

↑ Me when L singing to Light. When L singing to Light before and after his death. wHEN NOW I'M IN YOUR HEAD AND THE RENT IS DUE—

↑ Same as above but reversed POV 🙏 Light can't get him out L is in him forever now 😌

↑ 🫣🫣🫣😳😳😳🫣 This one's pretty self-explanatory once you listen to it....

↑ Again, self-explanatory, but also Light. Light-coded. For obvious reasons. But yes ✨

....Okay maybe I lied a little on accident I had more than I thought 😅

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 15 thoughts

i’m comfy. i’m cozy. i’m sat. i had a nice relaxing day. i am prepped for this.

(author's note: juni was, in fact, NOT prepared for this episode)

so, reading the episode description here: ANOTHER sunken ww2 craft??? they deal with these A LOT. they need to get an archaeologist on the phone, because they seem to just attract these sorts of things. and you don’t really find them everyday. unless you’re special.

(actually, it turned out to be the same one as before- or at least related to the first one. but my point stands. they are dealing with more war wreckage than you would expect)

we see a boat. they’re speaking french!! why did they call it “deux zéro point huit” instead of “vingt”? okay guess i don’t know a lot of stuff… but i like that a lot better than how the french usually use numbers, because then you could say 1998 a LOT easier… une neuf neuf huit… how easy these things COULD be… alas!

they’re diving!!!! this fellow- gauthier- has a very funny looking scuba suit. it’s bright yellow and very stiff. mobility is probably not ideal. oh, it’s getting darker and darker as he goes deeeep into the water. 

they’re detecting radiation from where he's going in? seems worrisome. but it’s the pacific ocean, so who knows what is in there? plenty of nuclear waste, i'm sure.

everyone is very excited to hear that gauthier thinks he found “one from the squadron”. what this squadron is, we do not know. but then they hear a thumping noise and lose contact with the diver. 

someone is inside the ship??? someone with very black inky eyes?? damn... mermaids are real?? AND scary?

the diver gauthier comes back up to the surface and says he became disoriented. hmm. that gaze is suspicious… and HIS eyes go inky black too!!

what did y’all do to my boy gauthier...

(cheering loudly as gillian anderson’s name is on the screen during the intro)

fbi time. scully reading a case and walking. she is a pro at reading and not walking into things. a skill that comes with great practice.

skinner opens the door and asks to see her!!! he asks his secretary to leave. oooo, whatever he has to say, it's going to be juicy. 

he says a memo came across his desk last night. and it concerns her. AND HER SISTER!!! 5 months in and there have been no leads in her murder investigation. they want to make it inactive and she has a LOT to say with just her face and the words “i see”. she looks both furious and hurt.

but he’s going to appeal it!!! awww nice skinner. and go over the evidence again himself, just in case someone missed something.

NOOOO, i yell out in sadness, as scully stops herself before leaving, visibly upset. she goes on a monologue about how the fbi can seemingly solve any crime but not this one, and there are tears in her eyes and there are tears in MY eyes. but for some reason they can’t figure out this one, even though it took place in a well-lit building and the murderer left the weapon at the crime scene!!! skinner tries to say it’s not about interest, but she says it is, just not hers or his. NOOOO STOP... MY POOR GIRL.

(tbh i’m glad they are addressing melissa's death again, because they haven’t really talked about it since. and i know with the monster of the week episodes you don’t get a ton of time to process these things, but it was HER SISTER. there is no way she could just jump right back into work without some severe emotional trauma. i think in some ways the episode format can do that disservice to their characters, introduce a Very Important Plot Point and then not talk about it again for the in-world equivalent of 5 months during which they act as if everything is fine)

skinner looks really sad too :( noooo, skinner

she goes to mulder’s office and denies that anything is wrong (he can obviously tell that things are wrong) also he’s wearing a different color suit today which is interesting. 

today's mystery: he says a ship from france came into port in san diego yesterday, and he tracked its course. it was at the same place they had earlier found the thing she thinks is a russian sub, and he thinks a ufo!!

she looks really upset to hear this :( i think she just doesn’t wanna deal with ufo drama when her sister’s murder is unsolved. and can you blame her?

but anyway, the whole crew from that french expedition is being treated for radiation burns, so he can’t just ask them what is down there

she laughs and says that she is amazed by him (!!!) working down in the basement. she says they’re afraid of his relentlessness. he seems offended that she says they could drop him in the desert and he’d ask for a shovel if the truth was out there, but then he smiles and says that he wants her to come along on to san diego. and he looks like this :D and gives her a plane ticket.

it was very cute. if only they could harness his boundless energy into looking at melissa's case...

scully my darling, look at me. tell him that you are feeling sad because your sister’s murder is being ignored. use your words. LOOK AT ME. tell him how you feel. it’s a long flight. you have time. thank you. 

at san diego, the men from the ship are very much burned up. they can’t figure out how to treat them because the french government is hiding everything.

she goes into doctor mode. the doctor at the hospital seems shocked to hear that she is a doctor, but... get used to it? anyway, their symptoms are nearly as bad as the hiroshima victims.

and one man had no symptoms, but he discharged himself this morning. it was gauthier! the man in the yellow scuba suit with the inky eyes!

damn, his house is nice. if it’s his house. seems to be, since he’s on the picture on the wall. but he walks past the ringing phone like he has never seen a ringing phone before. 

the agents are rolling up to the ship, where a bunch of people are in hazmat suits, investigating, guarded by soldiers. spooky...

so the guy who is leading this investigation says they found absolutely nothing, and they can go on board. which i would be suspicious of. but mulder lacks self-preservation instincts which has been established and he will go into the boat of evil. 

investigating a boat! with a big flashlight! i still don’t like boats. too cramped. way too cramped. mulder finds the big yellow scuba suit. and some sort of inky substance on the helmet… while scary music plays. 

scully is looking at a map that says “zeus faber” and i have some ideas on what that means but they could be way off... like deus pater? the vedic god? same roots at zeus?

(insert shane and ryans's "i've connected the two dots" "you didn't connect shit" here because really i was onto nothing)

mulder is searching for the VCR to watch the dive video. oooo he finds it!

and scully takes one look at the mysterious object and announces that it is “a north american p-51 mustang” and i feel my heart skip a few beats. 

WELL SO DID MULDER’S??? because he announces to the class that he just got very turned on. BAD! BAD! SPRAYING YOU WITH WATER like a NAUGHTY CAT!! not in front of this random guy!! we say such things in PRIVATE and not to the besties!

(actually i'm so lying because that does sound like something i would say to a bestie... but NOT in front of some random guy. i have couth. i only flirt with the girls when no one else is around. and i was sensing no irony from him, which is slipped into my flirting with friends. we differ, mulder and i)

um. brushing past that.

she used to watch her dad and brothers build model ww2 planes as a kid :,) and that’s why she can recite these facts. it’s just a fighter, wouldn’t have been carrying anything interesting. cool fact time with scully is my favorite time of day!

back to our french king gauthier. he’s searching for something. a woman hugs him and he doesn’t say a word. just looks at her all weird. she’s scared and runs away. but he GRABS her and his eyes go black!!! then she steps out and HER eyes go black!!!! what is going on? and is this thing spreading and also why. 

scully goes to see a friend of her father’s, named johansen. there are kids in the road. children, please do not play in front of cars, it’s dangerous. scully does not need a vehicular manslaughter charge at the moment due to your prancing about.

scully’s looking at the kids and remembering her sister and tearing up which is very sad but. she drives on.

mulder at gauthier’s house. no one is answering. careful; you know he will just walk into your house. and he does! he finds the scattered papers allllll over. pretty music is playing. he finds a letter talking about salvage and pockets it. then hears a noise??

and finds an inky gauthier on the ground. who says he doesn’t know what happened. he's freaked out because he doesn’t remember anything beyond the boat, and also his wife is gone. and he won’t answer any questions about the letter from the “salvage broker” (idk what that means but it sounds sus as hell)

OH! scully is at the house of her dad’s friend johansen, and she tells him how she used to live there!!! he doesn’t remember her, but also he is very old so this is understandable. he doesn’t seem to recall anything from her list of clues, but he says that the number on the plane isn’t from a p-51. so what’s the truth.

she goes to leave, and he says to say hi to her father, but she has to tell him he passed away NOOOOOO :(((( but before she leaves she talks about the games she used to play out in the lawn. and asks him to say hi to his son for her. will there be a childhood friendship reunion...?

gauthier’s wife is looking for stuff. in the office of the salvage broker! so she must work with her husband on her shady business deals... she hides things before mulder comes in. 

BUT NO!!! she has a gun under her desk, and it’s aimed at him!! nothing happens though, she just takes his business card. and we learn her name is geraldine.

mulder is sitting outside the salvage broker’s office. lurking about. and all of a sudden a bunch of cars come rolling up!! talking loudly in french and running in!! he watches. geraldine leaves in a hurry, and he goes to tail her. 

WHAT IS SHE HIDING!

scully’s trying to leave, but the soldiers that guard the entrance tell her she is being detained!!! huh? on what charges?

her dad’s friend johansen gets in the car. he says that his son was killed in the gulf war. and that “we bury our dead alive... they talk to us, they haunt us, they beg us for meaning. conscience, it’s just the voices of the dead, trying to save us from our own damnation" <- woah, banger line, unexpectedly profound from this old man. but, noooo sad man who has endured so much loss... :( banger line but at what cost?

he knows something about that plane that sunk. because he was sent to find it! in a sub called the zeus faber!

geraldine is in the airport. where is she going. hong kong?

anyway, scully calls mulder and shares her findings: she says that plane they're on a quest to find had been carrying an atomic bomb, but it never reached its target. and it doesn’t make sense fully to him or her really- like, why would the guy who was closest to the bomb be the only one who doesn't have radiation burns? but mulder has to go to hong kong sooooo. um. okay. 

back in D.C., skinner is waiting at a restaurant whilst some angry looking men approach him. they’re asking about people “obeying his orders”

OH! they’re threatening him to make scully’s sister’s case inactive. because those above him have worked hard to reach that decision. covering up for the antics of cig man and the worsties, i see... nasty nasty nasty!

so scully’s talking to johansen again, who is saying that his squadron back in the day also had burns, and almost everyone had died except for him. they found the sunken squadron and then the burns started. but despite most people in the sub being in the process of dying, the captain wouldn’t leave the area to surface and get help!

the men started fighting, realizing they were going to die, and a gunshot made the japanese aware of their presence. so johansen went against the captain’s orders and took them to the surface. he locked the burned men in with the captain, knowing their fate.

but the captain had the inky eyes!!!! so i guess that is why he didn't want to surface...?

only 7 on that boat of 144 lived, and johansen struggles with the guilt from that. and no one ever explained what actually happened. damn, that's a heavy burden to bear.

hong kong time. eating some tasty looking food. geraldine is here. mulder sits next to her and point blank accuses her of selling government secrets. he's always been a bit bold.

he says he’s gonna arrest her, and she says um you can’t have guns here. so he handcuffs her TO HIMSELF. WILD MOVE! and leads them to an office in the back. for their salvage broker dealership!!!

KRYCEK IS HERE???? MY BELOATHED…

mulder tells him to shoot himself in the head like he shot his father. DAMN! please do not pull any punches with this freak

someone shoots geraldine, who gets shoved behind a door still handcuffed to mulder, and then krycek leaves out a window.

(i think i’ve been spelling his name wrong in the past but hear me out: he’s lucky i call him anything beyond “the rat bastard”)

mulder is still handcuffed to the now shot woman while a hit squad approaches. but he is simply too fast for these fools!!! he freed himself and jumped out the window. 

okay... what. i looked down to type that, and geraldine somehow came back. unharmed. flashed a bright white light. and left all of the evil frenchmen who were chasing mulder with burns. huh.

that escalated.

back to skinner. who wants his coffee. and a blue plate. which refers to a special, and not an actual color of plate. the more you know! the waitress takes his order.

but someone is harassing her about the payphone not working! he gets up to intervene. a gentleman.

AND THIS DUDE SHOOTS HIM???

HELLO????? RIGHT IN THE GUT????

scully back at her place. as soon as she walks in the phone rings. NO!! she learns skinner was shot and she’s on her way to the hospital.

back to hong kong. krycek is trying to get out through the airport. but mulder catches him at a payphone and starts beating the hell out of him. MULDER TAKES A GUN OUT and is about TO SHOOT HIM IN THE STOMACH and he says “this is for my father” but then krycek is like “i didn’t do it” bitch boy i SAW you there. in his shower. 

he claims that if mulder lets him go, he’ll give him a tape with government secrets that he had been selling. mulder says absolutely not, go get yourself cleaned up and bring me there youself, you have three minutes or i’ll come in and kill you. WHEW! he is not messing around. he has been sentenced to the bathroom to wipe his own blood off of his face.

but who rolls up…. but geraldine!!!! who walks into the men’s room. and chokes him. AND KRYCEK'S EYES GO ALL INKY!!!

TO BE CONTINUED??? WHAT!!!!

why does this keep happening!!! the cliffhangers of it all!!!

okay, i’m not REALLY complaining, because the multipart episodes are usually the best ones, and they address the overall plot. but you THINK you’re going in for a nice relaxing evening and bam, krycek comes back, and now he’s got an alien infection. and maybe he too can glow and leave people with burns, and is being led right back to the place where our beloved agents call home. the power of a nuke, stored in one evil rat guy! what could go wrong???!?!?!? /s

and skinner was shot in the stomach! by a guy that seems to have no connection to all of this. but i doubt it.

(screams for about 45 seconds straight)

okay. SO. we got a lot here. we got french people, possession, angry mulder, dead fathers, nuclear aliens, krycek back, geraldine the undying, the sale of government secrets, hong kong, and scully angst. 

now, i am naturally drawn to the scully angst. to the memories of her childhood, to her grappling with the loss of her sister, how something is holding them up from the investigation, and whatever it is that wants to keep her from knowing the truth is willing to kill skinner about it. and somehow krycek is connected, because we SAW him do the killing, but we never learned WHY he did that whole betrayal thing beyond it just seems like something he does.

and krycek. i guess i figured he would come back at some point, but man, i feel even more revulsion at his current state now that he has ditched his pretty boy aesthetic for something that is more akin to a guy who started smoking cigarettes and listening to vinyls to make women think he's suffering deeply in an artistic fashion, but really he's just shallow, has no thoughts of his own, and is speedrunning cancer.

what the hell was he doing in hong kong? how is he getting access to these government secrets if he went AWOL?

ugh. i hate him. love to see an angry mulder, though.

skinner... in the past, we have had our disagreements. and though i have called you a bitch before, you have proved yourself, and your care for the agents. this is NOT what i wanted to see happen to you, and i am worried for your future, and the effects another loss will have on scully. so please consider recovering quickly for the sake of everyone else. the FBI will fall to the ranks of such freaks as cig man and his greasy pet rat-snake hybrid krycek if you don't stand guard.

man. i have a lot of thoughts. unfortunately though, i just went back and checked all my notes for typos that i'm sure i failed to catch entirely, and now i'm stuck on mulder's announcement that he was turned on again. we really do have to ask ourselves: why is he that way? i shudder at the thought. spraying him with more water.

would you say that to your male colleagues, mulder? please let me know. because i actually kind of think you would. which doesn't really make you understand the whole concept of gender-based workplace harassment that thought exercise usually provokes.

there is a TIME and a PLACE for hitting on the homies. do that shit off the clock. freak!!!

anyway. let scully have peace. let her not worry about more early deaths related to conspiracies. let her do more dog bathing and ice cream eating and internet research on various animal species. and let her tell us about planes <3 i hope everything gets solved and everyone is happy and mulder and scully and skinner eat ice cream sundaes together in the next episode <3

[boyfridged]

While I didn’t really care for the prologue and Nightwing issue I’m still pretty ok with how he handled the Jason issue. The premise was overdone and cheesy but with a comic where that’s kinda the point I’m surprised at how much I liked Jason’s vibe in the comic and how he interacts with the city. It’s something more akin to what I was expecting from the Hill and judging from how Juni Ba’s fav Robin is Jason I wish I could seen him work on something more serious.

I like his pale eyes too, it’s eerie but sad.

i don't know. well, i like his design and i love the visuals (for the most part) in general, they're lovely --

mostly, i'm just not feeling the whole "jason isolates himself even though bruce loves him and is just waiting for him to come back" sentiment that juni ba tried to sell. this is, incidentally, what fanon usually does too, and it always feels as something both so... condescending and simplified, taking away whole dimensions of their dynamics. jay acts the way he does (that including isolating himself) because he's, for the most part, dead to bruce. bruce acts the way he does because his child died and came back a murderer. i'm not saying they need to be in a forever impasse or that bruce ought to be an asshole extraordinaire, and be closed off to jay forever -- but come on. there is a barrier there. and it's not like jay does not try to overcome - his character thesis is, really, trying to do this very thing. and the whole monologue of damian on that topic -- on how he'd like to be forgiven the way jason is &that bruce blames himself... uhm. what. especially that historically jay hates bruce wayne's pity parties.

i know this is supposed to be a simple story, but i don't see the purpose of seeing the same stereotypes rewritten over and over again... they could do something fresh and interesting in that format.

[luveline]

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part six | chapter list

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

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

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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

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

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

You're not there, to his surprise. 

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

"Sweetheart, you in there?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where's mom?" he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Just tired," you mumble.

You close your eyes and cover them with one hand. 

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

A little shimmer of pride brims at the realisation. 

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not sleeping," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's human," he corrects lightly. 

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

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

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

"Do you want me to–" 

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

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

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

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

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

"Hello," he says. 

"Hi, baby," you say, shy even now. 

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

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

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

"Movie night is–" 

"Not a special occasion."

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

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

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

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

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

"Deal." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tada!" he says. "Let's get eating." 

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

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

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

"Don't," he says gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Good. Our soup is getting cold." 

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

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

Eddie thumbs hair out of her face and smiles. 

"She could probably eat more." 

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

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

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

No, you'd said quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No," you say immediately. 

"Not a sugarpea fan?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Bernard," he repeats menacingly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Davey's a grumpy regular. He never tips. 

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

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

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

"Am not!" you protest. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do I have a lock? Maybe."  

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pinch his thigh. "Lay off." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're sniffing me," you murmur. 

"You smell nice," he murmurs back. 

"You smell nice, too." 

"I smell like sweat." 

"A little." 

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

"Sorry," you say, rather shyly. 

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

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

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

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

"Yes. Definitely banned around my daughter." 

He snorts. "Like it's a curse word." 

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

"I'm so happy," you whisper. 

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

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

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

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

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

"Then so be it, my liege." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm glad you like it, junebug." 

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

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

"Thank you," Junie says. 

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

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

He takes your face into both hands. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gives your cheek a good rub with his thumb. 

"Thank you," you say. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

"Too hot." 

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

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

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

"Do you want another drink?" you ask. 

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

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

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

"You didn't eat much," he says. 

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

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

"Really?" you ask. 

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

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

"It's not dangerous." 

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

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

"I'm not eating Wayne's cheese." 

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

You slip your hand behind his back and squeeze. 

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

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

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

"What, no, ta-da? No kiss?" you ask. 

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

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

"Do you want half?" you ask. 

"No, you eat that whole thing." 

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

"I've been busy," you defend. 

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

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

"Did you, sweetheart? Honestly?" 

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

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

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

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

"Promise?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie pulls you into his lap properly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I thought you were awake," he says. 

"I'm not." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I want mommy," she murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She looks like you.

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

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

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

Junie smiles at you. 

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

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

"You think I'm pretty?" you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you," she says back. 

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

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

"Yeah?" 

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

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

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

"I got you," you tease. 

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

"I do, I have you!" 

"It tickles a lot!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We've been asking," Robin says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rob," Steve says.

"What?" Robin asks. 

"You can't say that." 

"Mom," Junie says. 

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

"Where's Eddie?" she asks. 

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

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

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

"With me," she says. 

You grin. "Exactly." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, doofus," Robin says. 

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

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

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

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

"How come?" you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's hard work," Eddie says. 

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

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

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

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

"Do you wanna play?" Eddie asks her. 

Junie shrugs. "With you?" 

"Yeah, with me." 

She looks at Robin. "Play?" 

"Sure," Robin says. 

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

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

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

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

—

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

"Hi, handsome." 

"Hi. She's sleeping?" 

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

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

"That's my bad." 

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

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

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

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

"I'll get you new jeans." 

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

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

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

"Do you think they liked me?" 

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

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

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

"He's jealous." 

"He's not jealous," you say fondly. 

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

"Don't flirt with me." 

"I can't stop." 

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

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

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

"Tell me," you say. 

"No, it's nothing." 

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/N?" 

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

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

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

"You and me." 

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

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

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

"Maybe I'll call. Cancel." 

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?" 

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

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

They're constant when he's with you. 

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

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

"I think so, too," you say.

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

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

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

"Do I smell?" 

"Kind of," you say. 

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

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

"Maybe. Maybe not." 

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

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

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

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

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

Eddie pulls himself out of your arms reluctantly. 

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

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

"Lock it." 

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

"Buy one." Wayne shrugs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You still could." 

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

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

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

"Not that soon." 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your nose stings. 

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

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

"Your nose?" she says. 

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

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

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

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

"No…" She sniffles. 

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

You bend down for her. 

"Kiss?" you ask. 

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

"Thank you." 

"You'w welcome," she mumbles. 

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

She looks like she might grizzle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He tries the handle. 

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

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

"Holy shit, what's wrong?" he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

"It's nothing," you say. 

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

"It looks like something," he whispers. 

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

"I'm fine." 

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

"I don't know.” You sniffle.

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

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

"No." 

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

"Yes, please." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You choke on a laugh. 

He doubles down. 

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

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

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

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

"I got mad at her." 

He hums. "Yeah?" 

"I didn't mean to, but she hit me." 

"What?" 

"By accident." 

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

"My nose," you admit. 

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

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

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

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

"Rosemary toothpaste?" 

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

"What did you do to make him mad?" 

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

"All of them?" 

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

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

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

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

“You know you're allowed though?”

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

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

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

“I'm going to say something.”

“Oh no.”

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

You sit back. His hands fall to your hips. 

“Sorry?” you ask. 

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

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

“Oh really?” you ask. 

His skin turns ashen. “Um–”

“I'm kidding,” you say.

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

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

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

“Is this awkward?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah. I really am sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being a loser.” You laugh wetly. 

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

“That feels nice.”

“Do you have any aches?”

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

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

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

“That is exactly why.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And that couldn't wait until tomorrow?”

Eddie glares at you, “No?”

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

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

—

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

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

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

“Sounds expensive,” you say gently. 

“So?”

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

“You okay, baby?” you ask her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t listen to stinky,” you say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She makes a sound of delight. “Up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” Eddie asks. 

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

“One track mind,” Eddie says. 

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

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

“Shut up,” you say happily. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, I just know I am…" 

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

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

"This sucks." 

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

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

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

"She won't, though." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pool?" Junie asks. 

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

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

"Shit," he says. 

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Looking good," Wayne says. 

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

"You think so?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I know you weren't sure. At first." 

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

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

"I get it," Eddie says, and he does. 

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

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

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

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

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

"How do you feel about babysitting?" 

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

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

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

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

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

"She's extremely protective, and you know she doesn't think you're a bad guy, or anything, but she's apprehensive." 

"She'd be silly not to be. Some people are evil." 

Eddie grimaces. "Exactly. But she trusts me and I trust you, so." 

"I'd think you do. Only broke my back–" 

"For the last ten years," Eddie finishes. 

Wayne throws his arm around Eddie's shoulders. "Looking after you, son. God knows I'd do it again… As long as it's alright with Y/N, I'll babysit. But you know there's a ton of kids trying to make a buck around here who'd just love to help out," Wayne says. Eddie must have rubbed off on him or maybe Wayne's the source of all his theatrics; he puts on a hopeful, almost wistful sort of voice as he says it that has Eddie laughing all over again. 

"We'll see. There's no hurry. Just wanna take her out sometimes, she deserves it." 

"She sounds like she's having plenty of fun to me," Wayne says reassuringly. 

You're singing and laughing through the words from the kitchen. You'd told Eddie you're going to give Junie a very intricate hairstyle so she can swim without worrying about washing it, and it's taken you the better part of the hour, yet neither your good mood nor June's has faded. He can see it, you feeding Junie cold cut-up fruit dipped in condensed milk, kissing her cheeks and massaging her scalp as you go. Junie on the counter, as happy as she's ever been. 

"You almost done?" Eddie calls. 

You turn down the music. 

"What?" you ask, pushing the kitchen window open a little further, careful to push aside the shutters just enough to see him, but not let Junie see the backyard. "Oh, hi Mr. Munson, how are you? Can I get you something to drink?" 

"Just here to give some birthday wishes," Wayne says, lifting the bear up. "How are you doing?" 

"I'm awesome," you say brightly.

"You look good." 

Wayne had pulled Eddie aside once, when you'd been dating for two weeks and bumped into him outside of Bradley's, as the fates should have it. He'd looked stern, hand on Eddie's shoulder, and said, "I'm not blaming you, son, but you gotta help her get some rest. Poor girl looks ready to fall over."

Eddie thinks you're pretty even when you're exhausted. In the fullest sense of the word, you meet every definition in his dictionary. You have these eyes that might not pull everyone in but more than hook him, and when you look at him sometimes it's with so much love you're basically an angel. Your smile is beautiful because it's yours. Your voice is lovely because of the words you choose to say, that endless sweetness and softness. He knows you well enough now to realise that there is an end to it in reality. When you're tired or fed up, you can be snappy and blunt and occasionally argumentative, but he likes that. He doesn't want you any other way, 'cos perfect doesn't exist and if it did he'd still end up on your doorstep with a plastic bag in the crook of his elbow, begging for one of those shitty mini pizzas you make and a place at your table. 

You do look well, admittedly and despite your recent bout of restless upset. You had a good night's sleep, and Junie being happy makes you happier. You beam down at them from the window, your eyes sliding to the blown up pool and the mini picnic Eddie's set up.

"Thanks, Mr. Munson. Can I bring her down?" you ask. 

"Absolutely," Eddie says, hand in the air and pulling toward his face, ushering you down, "right now." 

The back door opens and you guide Junie out first. Eddie popped in to give a birthday cuddle and the card he'd picked out, but he hasn't seen Junie since you did her hair, and it looks so nice it melts his heart. She stands in the doorway in her swimming costume, pink and purple and green ombre with frills everywhere, her face slack. 

"Happy birthday!" Eddie says, standing so he can hold out his hand and help her down the stairs. She takes it but doesn't move. "Me and mom know you like your pool so much we wanted to get you another one, do you like it?" 

She starts wiggling, jumping without her feet leaving the floor. She looks at Eddie, at Wayne, at you, at the pool, and a noise starts to brew like the whistle of a saucepan boiling water, the lid skewiff. Eddie grins and waves her hand. 

"It's for you, babe, do you want to get in?" he encourages. 

"With you?" she asks, still wiggling. 

"Maybe later. Do you need help?" 

Junie runs to the edge of the pool, looking over the side that's almost as tall as her and into the water. You already gave him a strict talk about water safety as though for a moment you might not be supervising, loving but resolute that she can't for one single second be unattended or without eyes on her. 

He hadn't been offended, though he did kiss the top of your head and say sarcastically, "Thanks, major, I didn't know that." 

"Jerk," you'd said, earning another kiss. 

Eddie puts his hands under her arms and lifts her up carefully. Her legs curl in toward her stomach like a pill bug. "It might be cold, June, but it's in the sun, so it won't stay cold. Ready?" 

"Yes!" she says. 

Eddie eases her down into the water. She shrieks happily as water covers her toes, her legs, up past her belly button. 

Eddie lets her go and she sits in the water rather than stands. The water reaches her shoulders. She lifts her hands and does a little splash. "It's so big!" she cheers. 

You ease down into a kneel poolside and reach your hand into the water. "And so cold!" you say, looking up at the sky for a moment. "It'll be warmer in no time. Oh, wow, June, there's so much water, you're up to your chin!" 

Junie stands up and runs to the palm tree, giggling. Her attention snags on the slide, and Eddie knows everyone present smiles when she gasps and spins on her heel to you, almost slipping onto her butt. She scrambles up again. "Mommy, it's a slide!" 

"I know! Are you gonna go down? Come here, you have to let me help you up over the side and you can climb up the slide." 

Just when Eddie's starting to think he couldn't like you more, you pull her up against your chest and out of the pool. You don't care that she's soaked. 

"Let's go down the slide!" you say, sounding genuinely excited. 

"Starting to think you should've got a bigger one, kid," Wayne says. 

Eddie snorts and peels off his shirt. "Maybe," he says, shooting Wayne a secret, pleased smile, before rounding the pool. "Babe, you're getting wet, let me have her," he says to you. The daycare kids and their parents should be coming soon. He knows you'll want to look your best. 

"Woah, put your shirt on, Munson, what do you think this is? A GQ shoot?" 

"Like I'm some piece of meat," he murmurs with a smile, failing to help Junie navigate the inflatable steps of the slide. 

You whistle playfully. Wayne howls with laughter. Eddie turns three shades of pink. He blames the sun.

Your teasing ends as soon as it's started. When Junie gets the hang of the slide he dries off and puts his shirt back on, and soon the daycare parents arrive with their tiny charges. They're quick to climb into the pool. Junie is ecstatic beyond words, laughing and giving out dripping hugs to her very favourite friends Adrien and Lucy. Adrien is a sweet, smart toddler. He manages to say, "Happy birthday, Junie!" with a small reminder. 

Junie smiles until her eyes close. "Thanks," she says gleefully. 

You shuffle over to Eddie. "Can you please watch all the babies so I can go get the drinks, please? And say thanks for the gifts?" 

"Please please," he says, squeezing your wrist. "I think there's about seven pairs of eyes on them, but yeah, absolutely. They don't call me Eddie Water Safety Munson for nothing."

You elbow him mildly. 

The only danger Eddie can see is that the kids look like they might have a fight over who gets to use the slide first. There's an impatient four year old called John who feels desperately that he should get to go first, and Lucy, Junie's favourite, does not agree. The birthday girl doesn't seem super interested in the conflict and instead plays with Adrien and a little girl named Matildhe with her rubber duckies, away from the slide. 

"You don't have to stay," Eddie says to Wayne, eyes on Junie's excited chattering. 

"And leave you to entertain the parents? I'm not that cruel." 

Eddie doesn't know most of the parents, having only met Adrien's mom when Junie was having her hugging phase and Eddie went in for emotional support, and John's dad outside of the mechanic where Wayne works, you in the car, Junie on his hip as he dipped in to bring Wayne his forgotten lunch for a late night doing overtime. Junie had recognised John, and so Eddie had been forced to introduce himself. It had been fine, but Eddie would prefer you with him for any future clumsy introductions. 

You come back down with drinks and make parental rounds, thanking each one for the small gifts they've brought. You ask about allergies and nod seriously when one parent says their boy is sensitive to aspartame, before sneaking back to Eddie's side. 

"What's aspartame, handsome? Do you know? I might poison that poor baby from stupidity." 

"It's a sweetener,” he says, "they put it in Jolt Cola. I think they're saying he's hyperactive." 

"Oh, right… is there aspartame in the strawberry juice?" 

"I'd have to check. Want me to take a look?" 

"No, it's okay… I'll just… hold off on it for a minute," you say. You let your weight rest against his side. "This looks amazing. It's amazing. Thank you, Eddie." 

He turns to you and pouts for a kiss. You lean up and give it to him immediately. Eddie doesn't care that there's a crowd of people to watch, he can't not give you a hug. His head locks over your shoulder, and he squeezes you tightly. 

"Don't worry, I'm still watching her," he says before you can wriggle out of his arms. 

"Okay," you say, your face flopped into the juncture of his neck. "Thank you double. I don't deserve you." 

"Yes you do. You deserve a whole lot more," Eddie says, thinking about the houses by the elementary school, and how lonely you can get, and the feeling of your hands as you wash soap suds out of his hair. He hugs you hard and pulls you toward him, your heels lifting off of the ground just slightly. "But this is a start, right?" 

"I wouldn't call this a start," you say, pulling away from him. Your face is lined with affection. “This is better.”

You turn around, sliding firmly under his arm, and scan the pool for your girl. Junie's standing now, offering handfuls of water to Lucy, who takes them and tips them over her head. Every time water runs down her face she laughs, and Junie hurries to get her another handful. 

"I think Steve said he was gonna come by," Eddie says. "That cool?" 

"Sure, the more the merrier. What about Robin?" 

"She can't, she's training the new video store recruit. She said Steve has her gift, though." 

You shake your head and click your tongue, "Tsk, they didn't have to get her anything." 

"They wanted to. Steve actually enjoyed it, I think. He's kind of desperate to be a dad, you know? He's dating this girl from Anderson but she's in college and they're not settling down yet. You know, I never thought that I'd– that I would end up settling down before him." 

"Are you?" you ask softly. 

He's quiet for longer than he means to be, watching as Junie gets her go on the slide. She barrels down into the water and screeches, overjoyed. 

"I'm not asking you to," you say, "I wouldn't ever ask you to, I mean, you don't–" 

"Hey, hey, wait. Wait a second." He tears his gaze from the pool to meet your eyes. "I'm settling down. I am. I want to. I want to be with you, and I want to look after you. I love doing it. This," —he gestures around your backyard— "is what I want. I want a ton of other things and I'm not giving up on them, I wanna make music, and get a job that pays better, but I want to do those things with you. You and Juniper." 

"I'll look after you, too," you say. 

He kisses the skin before your ear. "You already do," he says quietly. 

There's a small gap in your conversation. Eddie takes a sweep of the yard. Wayne looks content if a little bored in the sun, arms crossed across his chest and Teddy bear sat beside him. Junie's talking animatedly from inside of the pool to one of the parents as they rub sun cream into their own child's arms. The stray cat who sometimes sleeps under the porch noses at a half sandwich on the picnic blanket. Eddie's sweating in the heat, and it is so, so loud, but he reckons it's a damn good party. 

You stroke a big wad of curls behind his shoulder, a smaller strand behind his ear. 

"I love you," you say tentatively.

Eddie laughs but closes his mouth, the sound more of a hum, and leans back so you can cup his cheek. "I love you, too," he says, "you know that." He confessed it plainly enough only a week ago, lying in the grass with you, your cheek over his heart.

"Good," you say, looking like you might keel over. "I was really scared to tell you." 

"I was scared to tell you too. That's the fun part, for sure. This is terrifying." 

"Terrifying," you second. 

"And awesome." 

"So awesome," you murmur. 

Eddie peels your hand from his cheek and spins you around. You move slowly but let him do as he pleases. Your lashes kiss in the corners as you smile, as you pause in your spin to squeeze his fingers tenderly. 

"Munson!" Steve calls, though he blinks when he sees the crowd of people he technically works for amassed poolside. He's only been with Cork Kids for a few days. "Oh, hello." 

"Steve!" Junie cries, throwing herself at the wall of the pool. "Hello! Good morning!" 

"Hiya, Junie," he says.

"Good to see you, son," Wayne says, extremely amused. 

"Come swim, Mr. Steve!" one of the kids calls. 

"Gonna save him?" you ask Eddie. 

"Not a chance." 

"Steve!" Junie yells again, "Hello!" 

Steve understands that he's not going to get out of it, clearly, because he crosses the yard and kneels down in the wet grass by the pool. "Hi guys. Are you having fun?" 

The kids all cheer. Steve gets splashed in the process.

— 

Children's birthday parties are much shorter than you thought they'd be. The children, in different states of tiredness, are wrangled into towel ponchos and shepherded into cars, each with a slice of cake wrapped in a paper towel and a heartfelt, "Thank you so much for coming." 

Steve, exhausted, is slumped on the couch in your trailer with a cold can of coke pressed to his forehead and a borrowed pair of Eddie's sweatpants as well as a black and red Metallica shirt that wildy changes the young man's appearance. Junie giggles, sitting with Mr. Munson —call me Wayne, kid, I'm begging you— at the kitchen table. 

"Not like that, Way!" Junie says, trying to coach him through eating a powdered sugar donut. 

"I don't know how else I'm supposed to be eating it." He sounds as adoring of her as you often feel, forgiving her mispronunciation. 

"Babe, where do you want these?" 

You finish the cup you'd been washing and sidle to the back door. Eddie's holding the towels you'd brought out for the parents to sit on. Most are wet from the kids climbing in and out of the pool, and all of them are plastered in grass. 

"Leave them there, I'll put them straight in the washing machine." 

Eddie climbs up the steps, arms full to bursting. "Open the door for me." 

You open the washing machine and Eddie tucks them all inside. Every clean towel you had has been muddied and you wouldn't care, but Eddie looks like he needs a shower, and you probably look similar. You stop him before he can go back outside. 

"What?" he asks.

You twist your hand into his shirt and pull him in. "Two seconds, you have–" You tilt his head to the side and rub at a funny splotch on his cheek. It spreads but doesn't budge. 

"If you lick your thumb, we're breaking up." 

You go on tiptoes. "We can't break up, 'cos you love me," you whisper, not even smug. "And I love you." 

"That's pretty good logic," he says, smirking, "but it won't stop me." 

"Ew," Steve sing-songs, pulling out a chair next to Junie as he cracks open his coke. "That's super gross. And in front of your family. Yuck." 

"We didn't so much as kiss," Eddie says. 

"No, you're just in love. Much worse." 

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls out the last chair. You assume he'll sit, but he backtracks, grabbing you by the shoulders and sitting you down. "Sit," he commands. 

"I don't think I have much choice." 

Junie smiles at you from across the table, changed into dry fleece pyjamas to fight any possible chill. You smile back, propping your chin on your hand. 

Powdered sugar coats her cheeks. "Donut, mommy?" 

"Oh, yes please," you say, holding out your hand.  

She gives you a donut like she's worried you're about to collapse from hunger, nearly catapulting it across the table. You pick it up and take an indulgent bite. 

"Did you want one?" you ask Steve, hand in front of your mouth. 

"I think I've had enough," he says, queasy.

Junie must have force fed him half the cupcake platter. Her viewing him as a nemesis was short-lived. 

"Eddie?" Junie asks. "Donuts." She babbles something indistinguishable. 

"No thanks, junebug." 

Junie hugs the bag of donuts close to her chest, then, seemingly glad that everyone is done sharing. 

"Did you cover the pool?" Wayne asks. 

"Yes sir, no cat claws will be getting at that one." 

"You'd be surprised what you can fix with duct tape," Steve says. 

"Does that really work?" Eddie asks. 

It's sweet seeing Eddie around his friend. You resolve to ask if it can happen more often —even if you're not there to see it, knowing he's having a good time would make you happy. You've been selfish with him since you met him, and you can't say you're too sorry because of how it ended up, but you can try to make up for it now. 

He and Steve get along in a very specific way, wherein Eddie says suggestive things and Steve pretends to hate his guts, and then one or both of them forgets the facade and they talk like normal friends. 

"I got from St. Louis to Evansville with duct tape over a puncture." 

"That sounds amazingly dangerous." 

"I survived, didn't I?" Steve asks. 

"By the skin of your teeth." 

"You weren't even there!" 

You finish your sugary donut and try to earn Junie's attention. She's pulling apart a donut of her own in her hands and licking the jelly off of her fingers, looking confused and delighted at once. She's going to be thrilled when she realises there are chocolate filled ones after that. 

"Is that nice, my love?" you ask. 

"Mom, it's strawby jelly," she says. "Strawby strawby strawby." 

She's been chatty today. "Strawberry, huh? Do you like that? It looks yummy." 

Junie offers you a squashed square. Some people would be disgusted at the mauled goods. You take it and eat it, 'cos her hands should be clean, you washed them yourself a half hour ago before she started on the treats. The strawberry jam is as fake as they can make it, which is probably great for Junie but sucks for you. 

You're starting to stand when a big cup of water gets placed in front of you, held by a familiar hand. You love his stupid hands, his knuckles and his short nails and the tiny white hairs, everything about them. More now as they deliver your saving grace. 

"How'd you know?" you ask Eddie, turning in your seat as you pick up the glass.

"I tried one earlier, I knew you wouldn't like it." 

"How could you possibly know that?" 

He taps the tip of his nose. 

"I should be heading home," Wayne says. 

"You don't want to stay for dinner?" you ask, sitting up properly. 

"No, kid, I'm alright." 

"He's meeting his friends at the bar," Eddie says, "don't let him fool you." 

"We haven't kept you, have we? I'm sorry," you say. 

"No, you didn't keep me. I had a great time, best kids party ever," Wayne says, standing up. He leans down to meet Junie's eyes. "Happy birthday, little miss. Make sure you plant one on your mom, huh? It's been a long day." 

You don't think she gets his drift but she nods at his solid eye contact, and that's good enough for him. Wayne claps Eddie on the shoulder and they walk off to the front door. Eddie follows him down the steps as they trade goodbyes. 

"I should get going too," Steve says. 

"Are you sure?" you ask, frowning. "If you want to stay for dinner, that's no problem. I don't know what Eddie's told you but I'm a good cook, I promise. We're gonna have Junie's favourite, it's fresh chicken noodle with stelline, the little stars." 

Steve wavers, "I-" 

"If you don't have anywhere to be tonight, it's really no trouble. I'd love to have you, I'm sure Eddie would too." 

"Yeah, okay. If you're sure," he says, scratching a hand through his hair. 

Junie jumps down off of her chair with impressive gusto and crawls under the table to your thighs. She leaves sugary fingerprints behind as she emerges, patting your legs until you're forced to help her up. She's mumbling something. Junie talks all the time, but what counts for actual words is another story. 

"What are you saying?" you ask, pulling her legs out from under her so she doesn't hurt her knees. 

She babbles. Her face has all the intent of someone speaking understandable language, to the point where you feel bad for not getting it. 

"Baby talk doesn't get easier?" Steve asks. 

"I mean… she's mine. I understand her a lot more than Eddie does, but half the time she might as well be speaking Sindarin." 

You pause, mouth open. Steve licks his lips. 

"Is that–" 

"From Lord of the Rings, yeah. We've been reading it together." 

"It's worse than I thought. You should really come out with us sometime, have conversations with people who aren't trying to brainwash you," Steve jokes. 

Junie hums, pleased at something invisible, and starts pulling your sleeve down over your hand. You nod toward her. "I can't, really. I always have her." 

"You could bring her with you. I wouldn't care, and Robin wouldn't either. We have a couple other friends who'd love you; Jonathan, he's a photograph developer for the post, and he's kind of quiet but he's one of those undercover nerds, like you." 

"Stop flirting with my girl," Eddie says, closing the door behind him. 

"She's actually talking like you and the idiots." Steve looks at you from the corner of his eyes. "No offence." 

"Full offence," you say sweetly, leaning down to give Junie a kiss. "We're offended, aren't we? Mister Steve's name-calling." 

Junie looks up, smiles at Steve like a traitor, and then spots Eddie's return. "Up," she says, "up, please." 

Eddie takes her. She gives him a gross sticky kiss on the cheek and he eats it up. "What do you want, then, birthday girl?" 

She pops her lips but doesn't say. Eddie carries her to the fridge and opens the freezer, sorting through the amassed collection of frozen treats. There's a range of popsicles and ice cream sandwiches hiding between mini pizzas and a bunch of ready-made pasta you got on sale. 

She accepts a popsicle and then insists on a second. Eddie glances at you.

"It's her birthday," you say. 

"What happens tomorrow? When she expects another round of treats?" Steve asks. 

"I pop a double dose of Tylenol–" 

"She won't be doing that," Eddie says. 

"I take two Tylenol," you amend, "and we try to explain. It's worth it even if she is a demon tomorrow. You've had a good day, right?" You smile at June and her two popsicles, one fist cherry pink and the other lime green. 

"She's had the best day ever," Eddie says, and then, a reflection of yourself if you've ever seen it, he kisses her forehead five times in a row. 

"Oh, god save her," Steve says. 

You stand up to make dinner. Steve helps, and Eddie promises to join you in a moment but never gets around to it, preoccupied by Junie's turbulent popsicle eating and the subsequent rainbow stains on your couch cushions. He scrubs at them with a washcloth and Steve, helpful but unnecessary, stands at your side having chopped all there was to be chopped. 

"You can come around whenever," you say, wondering if that's too far. 

"That's generous. You don't really want me here that often," he says, chuckling. 

You dip your pinky finger in the saucepan to gauge the heat. It's not hot enough to add the pasta stars yet  

"Steve, this might shock you, but I actually like having company. It was just me and Junie for so, so long, and I love her, but–" You stir the soup with a wooden spoon rather than continue whatever embarrassing thing your heart had compelled you to verbalise. "I missed having real conversations." You laugh. "I've never been as lucky as when Eddie decided he didn't mind being around me." 

"It's worse than that. He minds not being around you. We had him over for dinner, yeah? Two weeks ago? He started rubbing it in my face that he met you first." Steve crosses his arms. "You're pretty, but I have a girlfriend, and he knows that." 

"What's she like?" you ask. 

"She's amazing. I keep worrying she'll realise that I'm a total loser." He clears his throat. "I mean, I'm a catch, obviously. But no, you'd like her. She'd like you." 

"Think so?" 

"One hundred percent." 

"Maybe we should go on a double date like in the movies." 

"Stevie'd like that," Eddie calls. "He's been trying to get me on a date with him for years." 

"You wish, Munson."  

"Yes I do," he sing-songs. 

Junie throws a teddy at him and he drops to the floor like he's passed out. She giggles and climbs on top of him. He oofs but doesn't throw her off, maintaining his act until she sits on top of his chest and starts poking his cheeks. His tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

"Well, you can't have my boyfriend, but you can have the best chicken soup ever if you pass me the stelline from the cabinet." 

You think Steve might be a great friend. He's funny, he's quick-witted, and he's bitchy but not mean. He and Eddie get physically aggressive with each other when he asks for a second serving, because She's not your servant, Harrington and I was asking permission, you idiot, but it's definitely more friendly than nasty.

When Steve does get going it's later than any of you realised. He says goodbye with varying levels of niceness. You get a heartfelt thank you for the meal and compliments on the party, Eddie gets a hug with a shoulder pat and then an insult that actually worries you until you hear him laughing, and Junie gets a hesitant hug. Junie wants the hug desperately, and Steve isn't used to her yet, but when she gets her arms around his neck he rubs her little shoulders like a pro. 

"How did you ever land him?" you ask after his car has pulled away. 

Eddie giggles like a kid, "That's so offensive." 

"He's a sweetheart…" You turn to him. "You're a sweetheart, what am I saying?" 

"What are you saying?" 

You lean against his chest. Eddie looks at you warmly enough that it makes you feel you're gorgeous —something in his smile, maybe, that says he's thinking a nice thought. When you lean on him it grows more obvious. His lips part, his eyes on yours.

"You're so fucking pretty.” Your smile is too much like a smirk and yet it doesn't put him off. "I'm serious," he says, hands clasped at the small of your back. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome." He steals a soft kiss. "Very welcome." He steals another. 

You're putty, melting, and you'd care but his hands are loving. He slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and presses his rough palm to your back. You rub your cheek against his chest and feel it like a siren in your head: I'm lucky. How'd I get so lucky? 

"Yeah!" Junie shouts, jumping on the couch and almost falling flat on her face. "Kiss kiss," she says, "Mommy!" 

"Demanding, insatiable pest," Eddie says. 

"Don't you dare talk about my love like that," you scold. 

"I meant you," he says, grinning at a well-landed joke. "C'mere, let's have a good birthday cuddle before mommy's shower."

"You're showering first," you say. 

"I thought you liked it when I smell gross?" 

"You smell like wet grass, but that's not why. You should go first 'cos the water won't be hot by the second one." 

Eddie gets gooey. "I'm weird about you. Keep being like this and I'll get weirder. You couldn't cope with that and neither could I." 

"Not even," you say. 

"Kiss please," Junie insists, still jumping. 

You and Eddie turn to her at the same time. Her eyes widen as though she knows what's about to happen, but she doesn't care. She's had the best day ever. Woke up with tickles, praised and petted and cuddled, she's bounced from a birthday breakfast of waffles and more syrup than her baby teeth should be able to withstand to TV with stovetop popcorn and her favourite movie. She sang, she preened under your fingers in her hair, and played in the pool until her legs turned to jelly. She blew out all her candles in one breath (aided, secretly, by Eddie behind her as you held the cake). She ate enough donuts to down a horse. And now, to end it all, she's gonna get the world's best hug. 

"Ready?" Eddie asks dramatically. "Three, two…" 

You reach for her at the same time, laughing before you've so much as set a hand on her fleece-covered shoulders. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you soooo much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed. Writing is a labour of love but sharing it is terrifying so if you enjoyed this, please let me know, or consider reblogging. It makes a big difference! ♡ I really missed writing for them! Please forgive sometimes the formatting of my paragraphs being odd, I had to cut this down to fit it all into one post!

[howlingday]

Do any of Mama Arcs trio know about the shadow war? If not how about we have a Pyrrha asking each Mom advice on how to court Jaune? It would might be differentit might not be. (I imagine they get nostalgic when hearing about subtle she being thinking about how thick headed his dad was.)

"Um, hello, uh, Misses Arc..."

"Please, honey, Alice is Misses Arc." The elegant mother raised a cup to her lips. "My name is Uriel-Mauve Arc, and I expect to be treated as such."

"O-Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean-"

"I'm kidding, sweetheart!" She chuckled. "You're so tense. I'm not going to hurt you."

"Well, um, you might if I tell you-"

"That you're romantically involved with my son?"

"Well, no, but..." Pyrrha rubbed her arm. "I'd like to be."

"But he's too dense to figure out you've got a thing for him." She set her cup down. "Like father, like son."

"Oh, was Jaune's father the same?"

"If not more so. He'd considered having us join the relationship with him and Juni, but she was the one who had to tell him that we were all thinking the same thing."

"So what did you do?"

"I let Juniper handle him." She shrugged. "I don't ride horses without their tenders."

"Oh, then... I need to ask Miss Juniper?"

"Yes, it would seem that way." She nodded. "Or, you can consider the alternative."

"The... alternative?"

"Go to Jaune," she stood up, "make your move," she stood with one foot on the table, "strike your own path for love!" She then cleared her throat and reseated herself. "But then again, what would his mother know? It's not like I've dated Jaune."