#I got my cat a baby blanket just to swaddle him

[beetlbi]

This is technically for @less-depresso-more-espresso’s dtiys but I went so far off prompt,,, raph is there in a dress and she’s cuddling mayhem but.. uh anyway! This is inspired by the fact I’ve been swaddling my cat a lot lately and he absolutely LOVES it

Here’s how to swaddle your mayhem

Congrats espresso!! Ur the one who got me on the transfem raph train and I salute u for that o7

[lovebugism]

oh my god,,,, gurl!!!! THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT fic is sooo good 😫 my heart literally breaks every time I read this story. Thank you for blessing us with this masterpiece <3

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | square one

summary: eddie makes a confession that's been weighing heavy on his heart. you realize that your future with him is haunted by ghosts from your past. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 16.3k warnings: hopper, steve, and robin being the reader defense squad, hints at reader's previously poor mental health, mentions of abusive and toxic relationships, a banshees of inisherin quote, b*lly h*rgrove because he needs a warning. (pretend any typos don't exist pls and thank u!) a/n: guess who's back, back again? ✨✨ i'd apologize for disappearing for a month, but then there'd be apologies in all my notes, so just know that i'm sorry every time i disappear unexpectedly, okay? 🥲 thanks for being so patient! please enjoy this long-awaited installment of tcar ily <3

( PREVIOUSLY ) | ( SERIES MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Eddie’s got a 1986 Van Halen tape in his boombox and a baby pink heart stitched into the fabric of his shirt. He’s the least metal he’s ever been, but he couldn’t be happier.

You keep your promise to him to patch up his torn Hellfire tee. If anything, you use the absentminded assurance as your excuse to see him again. The night you shared before, all but baring your scarred souls underneath glittering stars and streams of pale moonlight, hadn’t satiated your hunger for him. Eddie left you craving in a way you weren’t used to before — a yearning to be close to him that went beyond the boundaries of physical intimacy.

It was a simple sort of longing. It was a homesickness. A sense of nostalgia for a love you’d never felt before.

You wish you could wear Eddie’s adoration for you like a blanket, wrap yourself in the hand-stitched quilt of many colors and bundle it tighter around your shoulders when the cold comes. You want his softness to hold you in a way you’ve never been able to hold yourself.

You feel swaddled in it, succumbed and cloaked and at peace in all his tenderness. You’ve never been so at ease, so blissfully comforted by the presence of another human being. And Eddie feels all of that, every ounce of warmth you feel, because it pours out of you like rays of sunshine and bathes him in shades of gold.

He didn’t think you could get any softer than you had been that night at Skull Rock, until you were nestled in his unmade bed the next morning. You curled your legs underneath you as you weaved the needle and thread through the tear in his t-shirt, eyes squinted and tongue poking out the side of your mouth in an astute concentration. 

All of the sudden, you were marshmallow fluff and honey on toast — made of all things sickly sweet that made his stomach feel suddenly full. 

You finish mending the rip in record time and beam when he wears the heart-shaped stitching with pride. The rest of the day thereafter was spent in the tiny confines of his one hundred square-inch bedroom. From there, the both of you came to the silent understanding that you didn't want to spend another day apart.

The weekend had given you a limited sort of freedom, allowed you to pretend that you lived in a world with no responsibilities or anything other than Eddie Eddie Eddie, but adulthood made you no such promises. He had a side job to do to keep himself afloat, and you had a cat that thought it was the end of the world anytime you were gone for longer than a night. Both of those things together meant that the eve of parting was ultimately inevitable.

Every second you spent away from Eddie felt like you were grieving.

You mourned for him in the darkness of your apartment and tried to pretend you weren’t half a person in the cat food aisle at Melvald’s.

You tried to lessen the unbearable distance with phone calls, though it didn’t come nearly as close as feeling his fingers thrumming imaginary beats on your thigh or his heartbeat thudding against your ear. 

But his voice filled the emptiness of your one-bedroom apartment and the Eddie Munson shaped hole he’d left just behind your ribcage, and that was good enough for you.

When you weren’t with him, you were roaming around your apartment like some kind of ghost, with the phone tucked between your ear and shoulder and the rotary clutched in your free hand. 

You cook yourself dinner with him ranting about his day in your ear. You hold the receiver closer to Bowie and force him to hear her purr when she’s being exceptionally cute. He falls asleep some hours later to the sound of your soft snores, and you wake up the next morning to the sounds of his.

It was pathetic, truly.

You’d be gagging at how sweet it was if it wasn’t happening to you.

But it was.

Every ounce of this sticky sweet goodness was yours, and it tasted just like honey on your tongue. 

It was the honeymoon stage times a thousand, all rose-colored and reflecting light — your own personal utopia. It brought with it a heavenly sort of refuge, a bubble of peace you never wanted to pierce.

Eddie basks in the serenity of it all when he finally has you with him again. You’re in his lap, on his lips, and all over him, but it still isn’t quite close enough. He doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied until you’ve successfully melted with him and your limbs have entwined with his like tree roots, destined to remain that way for the next couple of centuries or so.

And it’s weird because he could hardly handle living in such a tiny trailer with Wayne, let alone stomach more than a couple hours with the guys from Hellfire all in one place. But you? You entered his life all at once and now he can’t remember what it was like without you.

He doesn’t particularly want to, if he’s being real honest.

It’s why he’s always less enthused about letting you leave when you’ve both got responsibilities dragging you apart. He begs you to stay with him a few hours more, pleads for you to stick around while he makes a quick deal or an emergency pick-up when Dustin Henderson calls and says he needs a ride. 

And you promise you’ll wait on him there, because he makes it virtually impossible to say no to his rosy pouted lips and chocolate syrup puppy dog eyes.

That’s when you run into Wayne for the first time, when Eddie’s out and you’re making breakfast for when he comes back.

French toast and scrambled eggs sizzle on the stove and warm the kitchen with all its cinnamon confections. It makes the man’s face screw up in confusion when he steps inside the trailer because he’s never known Eddie to cook a day in his life. And then his eyes find you — a young, pretty girl all alone in his kitchen with his nephew’s van gone from the drive.

“…Who the hell are you?” he wonders gruffly and pops a cigarette between his lips, totally unbothered.

He’s got no reason to be intimidated by the stranger in his trailer. He’s more confused than anything else, and he’s got this contorted look on his face like he’s blaming the exhaustion from the graveyard shift for his vision of you.

“Oh— my god,” you mumble through the mouthful of whipped cream you’d squeezed into your mouth moments prior. You fight to swallow it all down. “Uh. Hi. I’m, um… I’m Eddie’s... girlfriend?”

It sounds like you’re lying. 

In some ways, it feels like you are. 

You’ve been spending more time in his trailer than in your own home, but it’s not like either of you has motioned to make anything official just yet.

He eyes you with a tired and heavy gaze, eyes as dark and as infinite as Eddie’s. The man gives you a once-over and then chuckles lowly to himself as he tosses his corduroy jacket onto the back of the recliner and his tin lunchbox to the coffee table.

You shift awkwardly on the other side of the room. “…What is it?”

“When Eddie said he was talkin’ to a pretty girl on the phone every night, I thought he was lyin’,” he admits through hearty chuckles. 

It makes you laugh too. 

There’s little talking after the fact, besides you offering him some of the breakfast on the stove and him joking that you should come around more often.

You recount the story to Eddie when he returns, utterly mortified about the whole thing. You’re even more embarrassed when the boy finds amusement in your horror and starts to chuckle to himself — not exactly at you, but not with you either.

He laughs louder when you swat at him for it. You clamber on top of him, mattress squeaking mattress under your weight, as you demand him to stop through giggles of your own.

Somewhere down the line, both of you stop caring. 

Neither of you is quite sure where the conversation stopped and ended, only that when you started kissing, you couldn’t stop. 

They weren’t innocent little pecks, but they weren’t sloppy and full of tongue either. You press your lips together with the intent of being as close as you can to the other, like you haven’t spent every second you could together.

Neither of you will be satisfied until you’ve swallowed each other whole.

And you, you’ve got this ache for him. A swirling of want that’s constantly rippling in your belly for this boy. He’s just not usually under you when it’s happening — and now that he is, the crackling embers have burst into white and blue flames behind your sternum.

Your lips click each time you part, a lewd noise you never want to stop hearing. The sound of it gives you goosebumps, like a good song you’ve just heard on the radio. You wonder if Eddie can feel them as his hands start to creep up beneath your shirt and find purchase along your waist. 

You open his mouth with your own and sneak your tongue inside just as you roll your hips over his lap.

It’s the most forthcoming either of you had been in your three-day stint of nonstop talking. Even when you were over at the trailer, totally alone and pressed underneath him, it was otherwise completely innocent. You just make out like a couple of teenagers until one of you wants to make a food run or offers to roll a joint. 

And you like that. You like that he doesn’t expect anything from you, but it does get a little agonizing when you’ve tried every attempt to give yourself to him and he just won’t take it.

Like usual, Eddie tenses when he feels you grinding on top of him — partly because he feels a tingle at the base of his spine when he gets instantly half-hard, but mostly because he knows there’s nothing he can do about it.

He keeps preaching to himself it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time, it’s not the right time — but he’s got no idea when it’ll ever be the right time, if it’ll ever be the right time, or if he’ll know it when it comes.

Because he’s had you to himself for days now — no Wayne, no responsibilities, no pressure — with his tongue rutting against yours and your hands fidgeting with the metal buttons of his jeans, and it still doesn’t feel good enough. Eddie doesn’t feel good enough.

He’s not sure if he ever will.

And it’s not you. God, it’s the farthest thing from you. As far as Eddie’s concerned, he’s never had more fun with anyone else. He’s never laughed harder with anyone else. He’s never felt as comfortable with anyone as he’s starting to feel around you. So he’s not entirely sure why he finds the rest of it so hard. 

Eddie wants you so bad that the ache of all his yearning is palpable. It’s like the weight of it is what’s keeping him from you — unstoppable force, immovable object, blah, blah, blah. 

Either way, it leaves him entirely unable to take things further with you, however much he wants to. There’s something in his way and it’s him. 

Your heartache is his own when he has to pull away from you.

“You okay?” you ask him with wide eyes and swollen lips, always so concerned for him.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he’s quick to assure you. He’s still breathless when he fidgets beneath you, trying to prop himself up on his headboard without rubbing his half-hard cock against your thigh.

When he succeeds, he musters a smile that shakes at the edges. “It’s just… you know, not everything… It doesn’t have to be about sex, you know?”

He makes himself as soft as possible for you when he says this. He gets rid of all the usual teasing lilts that tend to lurk on his tongue as the words spill from his mouth. The last thing he wants to do is hurt your feelings or, in some roundabout way, make you think you’re the problem. 

He just wants you to know that that isn’t why he’s been wanting to spend so much time with you. There was never an ulterior motive with him other than all the adoration he holds in his hands and his mouth for you.

The strike of hurt that flashes across your face is obvious to only Eddie, who’s spent enough time mapping out your features to know what twitches are ones of discontent. The slight frown that dips between your brows when they scrunch together for half a second comes like a stroke of lightning. It’s a brief flash of purple in the sky that leaves so quickly that it makes you wonder if it was ever there at all.

You fidget on his lap, not resting as comfortably upon him as you had been just moments before. “Oh���” you murmur through soft, jutted-out lips. “Sorry. I, I didn’t—”

“No, it’s not— that’s not what I—” he tries to assure over your insecure stammers, but succeeds only in tripping over himself in return. He cuts himself off with a breathy laugh, shaking his head while his fingers fidget on your hips. “That’s just not what this is about for me, you know? I just… I wanna spend time with you.”

It’s easily the softest thing he’s ever said to you — to anybody, for the matter — and the marshmallow sweetness of it all wraps around you like wisps of pink cotton candy.

Your apprehensiveness twists into something lighter, a pair of twinkling eyes and a bashful smile.

“Oh,” you hum again, obviously more pleased than before. “That’s nice…”

“No one’s ever said that to you before, have they?” Eddie asks you.

He tries to muster a crooked smirk as the words leave his mouth, but he’s got a feeling he already knows the answer. Hearing you affirm his suspicions will do nothing more than make him angry at all the assholes that had you before him, at everyone who taught you that you were good for sex and hardly a thing else. 

It makes him wish that he’d gotten to know you sooner. Maybe then you’d understand that he’d be happy just holding you like this and never doing anything more.

You don’t answer him verbally, just shake your head with your lips pursed softly to the side. You look more innocent than anything he’s ever seen before, even with your lipstick smeared on your chin. 

He’s still not quite sure how someone could be so reckless with such a fragile thing — to watch you break and not spend the rest of time grieving to know that you’ll never be quite the same again. 

There’s a primal instinct that swims in him then, an urge to keep you in his arms and locked in the confines of his trailer forever and ever. He wants to keep the wolves of Hawkins, Indiana from ever getting a whiff of you again. It’d be more than they deserved, anyway.

“God, you have got to get better boyfriends, sweetheart,” Eddie tells you with a playful lilt in his voice despite the anger simmering in his belly.

“Isn’t that what you are?” you giggle.

His world stops.

“Huh?”

You tense at his tenseness. Only when he’s gaping at you does the weight of your words dawn on you. “…Huh?”

The awkward moment goes as quickly as it arrives, chased out by the fit of laughter the two of you are quickly thrown into. Your entwining chuckles rise like smoke in his tiny bedroom and then settle back over you like a fuzzy blanket.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend, babe?” Eddie teases.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Babe.”

“Oh, right, of course not. That would be way too crazy considering we’ve spent, like, every day together and have made each other come… what is it now? Twice?”

“Three times for me,” you correct with you a smile. “You need to catch up, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Another time?” he offers with a scrunched nose.

“Whenever you want.”

Eddie is grateful for your lack of urgency, even more so for the kiss you press to the tip of his nose. 

You peck him on the lips after — once, twice, and then a thiiird, drawn out time — before moving on to his chin and jaw and neck. Whatever part of him you can reach (which is just about everywhere, considering the vantage point you’ve got sitting on his lap), you sprinkle a kiss to it.

It’s an innocent sort of affection, the kind that makes him wonder how it ever came to be in the first place. What evolutionary measures led to this, to you pressing your lips to his skin to show how much you care about him? Eddie doesn’t really want to know the answer, he’s just grateful that it happened in the first place.

You’re so good at it, loving on him. You’re always so kind and so gentle in your way and it makes him feel guilty. There’s a lingering feeling of undeservedness that settles something heavy at the base of his stomach. How could he ever expect you to be so open with him when he hasn’t done the same for you?

A heavy sigh rattles in his deflating chest. 

“I gotta tell you something, sweetheart,” he cautions when your lips smack against the thrumming pulse below the left side of his jaw. “Something you’re not gonna like…”

A billion things run through your head all at once. When you part from him, he can see the rollercoaster of emotions each one of them puts you through.

Your first instinct is that he’s got some kind of partner he’s kept hidden from you until now. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gone steady with a guy who’s then told you about some other girlfriend he had — or, god forbid, a wife. 

But then you realize that you surely would’ve had some sort of inkling if that were the case. There’s no way Eddie would’ve been able to spend every second of his day with you — and then another several hours on the phone when you had to leave — without someone else coming along to burst your bubble. 

And so far, there haven’t been any angry wives, just the occasionally confused Uncle Wayne.

Then you start thinking he’s about to tell you he wants an open relationship. The you’re great, but I’m just not ready to settle down yet spiel that you’ve heard a thousand times before. Usually when people say that, they mean that they just don’t want to settle down with you.

You’ll become some douchebag’s fuck toy for a month or more until the girl next door comes around. He gets her knocked up in record time, his family forces him to marry her, and they begin their cushy lives together in the center of some cul-de-sac — really settle down, as it were.

You’re not sure if you could take that from Eddie. You could grin and bear if it you had to, take whatever attention he’s willing to give you because who cares if he’s giving it to someone else on the side? You’re just not sure how long you’d last like that.

And then you start to worry that he’s just going to break up with you entirely — it’s not you, it’s blah, I’ll always care about blah, please don’t tell anyone about how we blah-ed. That whole talk. 

All the rest of your worries stop mattering so much because you’ve only just called him your boyfriend. And here he goes, about to end it all before it can really even start. That’d be just your luck, you figure.

“Did I do something wrong?” you caution after a few moments of heavy silence.

Eddie’s bleeding heart wrenches at your words, at how sad they sound spilling from your mouth, and how you immediately think that it’s got something to do with you. 

He shakes his head feverishly in response. “No. No, it’s not you. You’re… you’re perfect.”

“Okay…” you concede quietly, voice trembling with a lingering disbelief.

“I just… I haven’t been totally honest with you, you know?” the boy admits before his glimmering chocolate eyes fly open and he corrects himself quickly. “And I haven’t lied to you or anything. Not— Not exactly. I just… I wanna be honest with you… As your boyfriend and all.”

You can tell by the sudden weight in his voice that he’s serious. But the fine coat of glowing rose that splotches Eddie’s cheeks after calling himself your boyfriend for the first time makes you melt. 

You smile to yourself and start to trace the heart you’d stitched into his t-shirt with your finger.

“Yeah. I mean, we are about to spend our two minutes anniversary together and everything.”

“Exactly,” the boy huffs out a laugh. It lacks its usual jest, though, because of the ice-cold anxiety that drenches him from head to toe and makes his hands and feet go numb.

His fingers tremble where the rest on your waist, trying and failing to find a comfortable position there because, right about now, Eddie feels the most awkward he’s ever felt.

“I just want you to know that I… I’ve never done this before,” he confesses quietly and with his eyes squeezed shut. He prays that he doesn’t have to be any less vague than that.

Your face twists in confusion — your brows furrow and your nose twitches and your head tilts to the side like a puppy. And then you’re laughing, a soft little thing of a giggle that normally makes his heart sing, though now he can only feel it breaking.

“What…?” he tries to scoff out his own chuckle. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because you’ve already told me that, dummy. That you’ve never felt this way before…” you answer, reciting his own words back to him. You haven’t yet forgotten how he’d looked at you as you said them, pale skin made silk under the moonlight while he sparkled beneath the beams of it and his love for you. 

“No, it’s… it’s more than that,” he corrects. “I’ve never even had a girlfriend before you. Or anything really.”

You still don’t seem to understand. You just look on at him with uncertainty. 

A quiet “okay?” tumbles from your mouth entwined with a nervous giggle, because you don’t understand what’s got him so somber. He’s never dated anyone, you’ve fucked half of Hawkins — these are just facts that went unsaid before now. 

And maybe it’s because you’ve never been with a virgin before, but the thought that Eddie might be one hasn’t seemed to cross your mind at all. 

It’s that exact thought that scares him. 

Because if it hasn’t already, maybe it’s because you’re avoiding it altogether. And why would he ever be the exception?

He opts to bite the bullet and hopes that his heart doesn’t get broken after.

“I’m a virgin. Okay? I’m a complete, total, proper adult virgin,” he blurts with a brazenness he’d previously lacked when it came to all this. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before now, but I didn’t, because I liked you and I was scared. So if you wanna yell at me or if you wanna break up with me before our five-minute anniversary, I totally get it, but I should probably let you know that it’ll rip my little virgin heart to shreds, so…”

Eddie ends his nervous ramble with a trembling, lopsided smile that does little to ease the leaden tension he’s just manufactured in the four walls of his bedroom.

He can’t seem to gauge your reaction after the fact, which is strange because he always knows what you’re thinking. 

He knows when you’re laughing with him and not at him. You scrunch your nose and giggle when he tells you a funny joke, then tilt your head back and cackle when he trips over the punchline. 

He knows the exact moment when something’s started to bother you — when you get real quiet in your bubble of reserved stillness and your eyes start to glaze over. To anyone else, it might just look like a person who’s keeping to themselves. Eddie’s starting to learn that usually means trouble when it comes to you.

He knows the difference between your gentle sort of sadness and when you’re damn near inconsolable. When you cried at the end of Stand By Me, you smiled at him with a glassy tear-filled gaze, then rolled your eyes when he tried to comfort you. The tears only spilled over when you laughed because Eddie pretended you’d hurt him when you’d shoved him away. 

But when you’re really upset about something, you don’t show him at all — you fight to keep it all to yourself until you’ve squished the problem into a tiny enough ball that you can forget about all of it.

This is something different.

There’s too much crossing your mind all at once for him to get a good read of you.

You just gape at him, like you’re trying to figure out if he’s joking or not, and then fighting to understand what it means when you realize he’s being serious. 

And just when you’ve started to wrap your head around it all, when your brain remembers how to make words again and you realize you haven’t said anything in several agonizing seconds, a foreign voice sounds from down the hallway.

Not foreign in that it was unfamiliar exactly, just foreign in that you and Eddie had spent so much time alone that you were starting to forget that there was an entire world outside of yourselves. A great big world, filled with a great many people, some of whom were your friends who tended to get pretty worried about you.

“Edward Wayne— why the hell is the Chief in my driveway?” his uncle curses from the living room, sounding like he’s speaking through a cigarette in his mouth.

Eddie himself is immediately freaking the fuck out because he figures he must’ve gotten tipped off again. He tries to calculate the quickest way to get you off of him and to all of his cubby holes full of miscellaneous drugs so he can flush them down the toilet before Jim Hopper busts the door down.

And even though you’re not the drug dealer who’s had cops on their ass since they were fifteen in this equation, you look a whole lot more terrified than Eddie does.

Your eyes go wide and the whites of them swim with terror as you launch yourself off of his lap. You don’t spare another glance back at him, not even when you nearly trip over yourself when you shove your sneakers on your feet and shuffle out of the room. He’s forced to follow behind you like a confused puppy as you bound through the trailer at lightning speed. 

The haste of your movements startles even Wayne, who halts mid-puff of his cig when you’re in and out of the living room before he can blink. The opening squeak of the screen door and metal slamming against metal is the only thing that punctuates your exit.

“Would it kill you to answer your damn phone every once in a while?” the powerful timbre of Jim Hopper’s angry voice, of which only the man himself could pull off, is muffled until Eddie cautiously slinks onto the porch behind you. 

He finds the chief standing beside the Cruiser he’s parked sideways. The door of it is still flung open. A distant beeping sounds from the ignition. 

He’s still got on the pressed khakis of his uniform — complete with the golden badge pinned to his chest, darkened sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, and flat-brimmed hat on his head. Even with the majority of his face covered, it does little to hide the anger that radiates off of him like a hot stove eye.

You remain on the porch, shifting your weight on your feet at the top of the steps. “Okay, Hopper, just listen to me for a second—”

“Three days!” he shouts over you, not deterred by your composed nature. “I have been calling you… for three days! Seventy-two hours. No answer!”

Eddie decides to speak up from behind you despite his better judgment. “Yeah, uh, that was kinda my fault,” he confesses with an awkward laugh. “Wouldn’t let her hang up the phone—”

“I’ll deal with you in a second,” Jim interjects firmly and without thinking. He goes back to berating you with an admirable finesse. “Buckley wanted my head on a pike when I wouldn’t file a missing person’s report in the first twenty-four hours, but seventy-two? She was gonna kill me!”

Rather than argue with him, like every fiber of your being so desperately wants to, you make the difficult choice to concede with a heavy sigh. Because you don’t doubt that Robin was on his ass the second she realized you weren’t answering your phone or at your apartment when she and Steve dropped by.

She did tend to be on the overprotective side, after all, which obviously paired well with her melodramatic disposition.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve just been… busy.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard the one before,” the man answers bitterly.

“It’s different, Hopper!”

“I’ve heard the one before, too!”

Eddie can only assume that the both of you are communicating telepathically, what with the way your synchronized glares seem to say a thousand words (probably every curse imaginable, if he had to guess) without your mouths ever moving once. 

He stands on the outskirts of it all, feeling a bit stuck in the thorniness of such a tense silence, like any slight movement might cut him.

Jim moves slowly, akin to a creeping snake, as his hands raise to remove the glasses from his face. Their lack reveals the ice-cold glare that was previously hiding beneath them.

“Get in the car—” 

“—No,” you reject just as the direction leaves his mouth because you knew it was coming.

Jim inhales sharply and smacks his lips against his teeth, like a father whose child is most ardently testing his patience. He plants his work boot in the gravel and his hand on his hips. His steel gaze goes far off for a moment before flitting back to you again.

“…Get in the car or I put you in handcuffs.”

Your breath hitches at the threat. You squint over at him. “You wouldn’t.”

Jim smiles at you, but it’s more threatening than anything else. “We both know that I would.”

Eddie’s eyes flit between the both of you. He can tell that Hopper’s serious and that you’re trying to decide whether or not to call his bluff, with your arms crossed defensively over your chest and lips pursed in a tight line.

You ultimately decide not to. Because Hopper has, in fact, done that before. And even though the circumstances are very, very different, you wouldn’t put it past him to do it again. So you all but stomp your foot like a protesting child and spin on your heel to storm back inside the trailer.

Eddie’s nervous gaze flits between your disappearing form and the storm cloud of a police chief standing in his driveway. When their eyes lock, he realizes he should probably say something. He cocks his thumb over his shoulder and stammers, “I should— I should probably…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He catches the front door before it shuts and slithers through the crack of it to follow in behind you.

“Wait, was he— was he being serious about that?” Eddie wonders once you’re back in his bedroom.

It feels a lot less cozy than it did minutes before, less like the bubble of refuge that you thought nobody could pierce and more like a lonely space that feels entirely too empty. You pluck your things scattered around his room, and it starts to feel less and less like home with parts of you gone from it.

“I don’t know,” you answer within a sigh as you collect your cardigan from the back of his desk chair and shrug the thing back over your shoulders again.

“But it’s happened before?”

“Yeah. Once. When I was…” you confess quietly, then trail off. You get your bag from his nightstand and haphazardly shove your scrunchie, sunglasses, and chapstick into the bottom of it. “…When I was in a bad way— it doesn’t matter now.”

Eddie so desperately wants to pry.

He’d wanted to make a joke before, about the handcuffs — something less than tasteful about them and you and Hopper and some good ol’ freaky deaky that you'd scold him for after. But he decides not to now because you sound so strangely solemn about the whole thing, as though it was a story you buried deep with the intent of never bringing it up again.

“You don’t have to go with him if you don’t want to, you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do,” you scoff at his worries, not nearly as threatened by Jim as the rest of Hawkins. You move to stand in front of him in the center of his room and meet his furrowed brows with a soft grin. “He’s not gonna do anything, he’s just pissed. He’ll berate me on the drive back to my apartment and then it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

That seems to please Eddie well enough, though he’s still a bit disheartened at your leaving.

“I guess we couldn’t keep spending time together like this, huh?” he teases lightly, like the realization of it doesn’t make his chest ache. “Sorta forgot about the rest of the world… whatever that is.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” you tell him with a shrug and a whimsical sigh.

“Wait for me, will ya?” he jokes, if only to make you laugh and to feel like he’s stuck in some sickly sweet ending of a romcom for a couple moments more. 

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but let him wrap you in his arms anyway. His hands find purchase on your elbows, thumbs rubbing soothingly along the outsides of them. “How about a kiss, then?” he offers when the urge to feel you because too great to bear. “For our ten-minute anniversary and all?”

“You never have to ask me, Eds,” you assure with a laugh. You rise to the tips of your toes and he meets you halfway. 

Home is in your mouth. It’s warm and cozy and safe there. It’s easily the most familiar place he’s ever known, with your bottom lip nestled between his own. He feels homesick when you part from him. 

“You’re not mad at me?” he wonders quietly, feeling a bit like a cowering child from where he stands in front ahead of you — eased only when you shake your head almost immediately in response.

“No. I couldn’t be even if I wanted to, I think.”

“Okay. That’s… That’s good.”

“We can talk about it later, if you want. After I get lurch off my ass.”

He tries not to smile too wide, but it’s hard not to beam every time he looks at you. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll… I’ll see you around, I guess?” he stumbles over himself, having forgotten how to say goodbye to you. 

It’s equally as hard for you too, it seems, because you nod at him and turn to leave and then realize once you’re halfway down the hallway that you might not survive if you don’t kiss him again. 

So you turn and rush back, catching Eddie with his back turned and spinning him around so you can peck him again. You feel his cheeks heat beneath your palm and his sigh against your cupid’s bow and his lips melt against your own.

You etch each tingling sensation into the edges of your mind in the hope that you won’t drive yourself completely insane when you inevitably start to miss him like crazy. 

You focus on that and on him when you find Hopper and his stupid proud dad smirk. It’s the only reason you don’t punch him in the jaw and tuck and roll out of the Cruiser when the silence becomes so slowly insufferable.

You’re starting to think Jim left the radio off on purpose. You’ve never known the guy not to drive around without the strumming of an old-school folk song to accompany him. You figure it must be some sort of intimidation tactic, to make you so uncomfortable that you break. You’re a lot closer to that than either of you realize.

You spare a glance over at the man next to you. He hasn’t looked at you once since you get in the car. He’s got one hand at three o’clock on the steering wheel and the other with its elbow propped up on the door as he scratches at the stubble on his jaw. 

He’s too at ease not to be bothered. This is obviously some kind of front he’s putting on to conceal his inner irritation.

You give on the lecture you’d been trying to prepare yourself for and exhale sharply through your nose. Your fingers fidget on your thighs as you kick your restless feet up on the console. 

“Get your feet off the dash,” Jim scolds without missing a beat. 

You huff and obey. “Okay, this is crazy— can’t you just yell at me already?”

He barely wastes a second.

“I cannot believe you right now!” he seethes through gritted teeth, stewing in a dad-like sort of anger.

“It was three days, Hopper!”

“You know what happened the last time no one heard from you for three days?” he shouts back. 

You tip your head back against the seat and groan. You should’ve known he was going to play that card. 

He waves an accusatory finger between the both of you. “You and me— we had a deal, remember? You let me check in on you. You agreed to that. You visit your little high school friends, and I see you at work, so I can make sure you’re not off somewhere killing yourself.”

Hopper becomes a casualty to the tense silence he created then, when you don’t retort with some comeback of your own and force him to feel every ounce of pressure from the leaden quiet. 

He sighs a great big, too loud sigh and shifts in his seat. His softening gaze flits between you and the road. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it like that, okay? I just meant it, you know, figuratively. I wasn’t… trying to be mean.”

“When have you ever cared about being mean?” you monotone.

“I don’t,” he assures. “I’m just not trying to hurt your feelings, alright? Jeez…”

You try not to take too much pride in the man’s half-apology, though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little bit rewarding.

Jim Hopper’s practically an iceberg. He only melts for his kid, Joyce Boyers, and you, apparently. 

It’s why he’s always so damn protective over you. He’s developed this sort of deep-rooted urge to keep you safe after watching you make every wrong decision a human being could possibly make. And when you mess up, because you do mess up, he feels like it’s partially his fault — that, if he’d done more, he could’ve kept you safer. 

It makes you feel like a burden most of the time, but you know it’s above yourself and mostly out of your control.

You’d known of each other for a while before you really met, because a troublemaker and police chief in such a small town are bound to. But somewhere down the line, he found you in a valley of mourning for someone that was still alive and you found him in a black hole of grief for someone who wasn’t. The empty and infinite voids within you both were stitched slowly together all over again. 

Jim Hopper was the dad you never had. You were the daughter he couldn’t.

And you thought something might change after he adopted El. You figured he might forget about you because it wasn’t like it was his job to watch after you or anything. Playing pretend always felt nice, but you knew it wasn’t real. 

It was to Jim, though, who’d developed a similar adoration for you as the one he had for Sara. He hasn’t been able to forget about you in the same way he hasn’t been able to forget about her. 

Every night, after he’s scrubbed the day off his body and washed it all down with a lukewarm beer, he lays on his pull-out bed in the small living room of his cabin and goes through a checklist in his head. 

He makes sure that he’s checked on El and reminds himself to wake up early to make her breakfast the next morning before he brings Joyce coffee at Melvald’s — Joyce. She always comes next on his list, always right after El, and then you. 

He forces himself to calm down when his blood pressure inevitably spikes at the thought of not having heard from you all day. He reminds himself that he saw you at work on his lunch break and that he’ll see you again tomorrow.

Jim hums to himself as he settles more comfortably into his springy cot, deciding that he’ll try a new wine he can’t pronounce when he sees you at Enzo’s the next day and that he’ll drink it while he rambles about Joyce or El’s new boyfriend.

He drifts to sleep with thoughts of Sara.

You’re as ingrained into his mind as every other person he’s grown to love.

He stopped worrying about never getting you out a long time ago. Like a tomato sauce stain on a dress shirt, he knows he’ll never get you out of his head. He knows even more so that he doesn’t want to — no matter how much you annoy him or how angry you make him when you don’t answer his calls.

“Sorry…” you murmur and swallow down whatever mundane argument you could’ve spewed then, at the result of his sudden warmth. You turn to gaze out the window and trace the edges of the puffy white clouds with your eyes. “I wasn’t thinking about that — the… deal, or whatever… Honestly, I was a little too busy being happier than I think I’ve ever been in my life, so…”

You don’t see the dramatic eye roll he gives you in response, but you can’t miss the hearty groan that spills from his mouth. 

“What?” you laugh in response. “Have you never been a kid in love before?”

It’s almost jarring how he goes from huffy to concerned in a fraction of a second. His head snaps over to you, jaw clenched and eyes suddenly stern and swimming with a lingering fear. 

“Love?” he repeats like he must’ve heard you wrong. “Love— That’s— That’s what this is?”

You shrug. “I don’t know… Maybe…”

His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Please don’t tell me you’ve said that to each other yet. This guy was just a crush four days ago.”

“No, Hopper. We haven’t. I mean, he literally just told me he was a virgin, so I don’t think we’re even close to—”

“A virgin?” Jim echoes, voice high-pitched and giddy. He beams at you from beneath his bushy mustache and slaps you a little too hard on your arm when he laughs. “Shit, teacup. Are you runnin’ out of options over there or somethin’?”

You twist your body to hit him back harder with your right hand. “It’s not funny, Hopper,” you scold. “He’s nice.”

“You said that about Hargrove once—”

“This is different,” you monotone before the words have the chance to leave his mouth.

“Yeah? How do you know?”

The question stumps you for a moment because you don’t know — you can’t.

You’d never admit it out loud, but Hopper was right; you’re still not quite sure how you ever could’ve thought that Billy Hargrove was a good guy, but you did. You felt a similar feeling of elation with him as you do now with Eddie, an otherworldly sort of happiness that makes you feel like you’re the only person it’s ever happened to.

And here you are now, sometime later and reveling in the aftermath, still gluing pieces of your shattered heart together.

You treat love like a drug. You use and use and use until it stops being a fun thing and becomes a crutch you can’t live without. That’s always when it starts to hurt you, but you’re in too deep to stop craving it.

And you know it’s bound to happen all over again, but you have to believe Eddie’s different or else you might as well fall into the deep pit of despair you’ve been trying this whole time to crawl out of. 

He makes you happy, really really happy, and you’d rather gamble that he hurts you than give it all without even trying.

“I… don’t,” you conclude after a few moments.

Jim seems surprised by your admission, shooting you an incredulous look with his untamed brows raised to his hairline.

You meet his look with a wavering grin. “But he makes me really happy, Hop. Like… It feels like it should be illegal or something. He makes me feel so good my heart hurts. There’s like this—”

“Ugh,” the man grumbles in disgust, sullen all over again.

“I didn’t mean it like that, you weirdo,” you chide.

A grin twitches beneath his mustache in response. “I know you didn’t… ‘Cause Munson’s a virgin.”

“Oh my god!” you groan. “I didn’t even mean to tell you that, okay? Leave him alone— and a swear to god, Hopper, if you make fun of him—”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with it, alright? I mean, he’s got the expert around to show him the ropes— ow!” You cut off his stupid joke and accompanying sardonic grin with a fist to his shoulder.

Steve and Robin tend to be quite the formidable duo.

They’ve barely got a brain cell to rub together between them, but there’s still something strangely intimidating about them when they’re both angry. It feels a bit like they’re your I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed parents, and you’re the scolded child taking your lashings in the form of a lecture.

It’s what you feel like now, sitting across from them in your designated booth at Benny’s Burgers — the one by the window in the corner. It’s far enough away from the bustle of the entrance but close enough still to gossip about the assholes you used to know from high school when they walk through the door. 

“You scare the shit out of us when you go AWOL like that, you know?” Steve confesses, still soft even though you know there’s a more upset part of himself he keeps hidden for now.

His chocolate gaze flits between you and the pile of fries in the middle of the table that the three of you share. He finds the one covered in the most salt and pops it into his mouth.

“AWOL?” you echo with a distant laugh when you realize how much he sounds like Hopper. “It was three days.”

“Yeah, and you fell off the face of the earth,” Robin retorts, half-muffled through the hearty gulp of strawberry milkshake starting to melt in her mouth.

“You guys are acting like I went halfway across the country,” you scoff. “I was with Eddie. At his trailer.”

“Exactly!”

Steve’s face contorts mid-bite. “Wait, you were with him? The freak?”

It makes you roll your eyes. He’d been too busy hopelessly flirting with the waitress at the counter to hear the entire recounting of your absence to Robin, though it was more of you gushing about it than anything else.

“Yep,” you answer.

“You skipped out on movie night to be with… Eddie Munson?” he reiterates for himself, as though there was any correlation between watching the same three movies while gorging on greasy junk food with your best friends and falling more in love with a guy you were already head over heels for as he tried to explain away the unopened box of condoms collecting dust underneath his bed.

Both are equally fun in their own ways, but totally totally different.

“How did you survive without me, Steven?” you joke back in response.

“He didn’t,” Robin quips.

“So… what? You guys just went on some kinda bender? I don’t get it. Did you just fuck the entire time or something?”

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I can actually spend time with someone and not fuck them—”

“Okay, that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“And to answer your question — no, we didn’t fuck,” you confess, then elaborate more slowly, a tad bit awkwardly. “Because he told me today that… he is a… virgin.”

Your words seem to settle over each of them differently. Robin stills with her lips wrapped around the candy-cane striped straw then furrows her brows, as though their meaning hits her a few seconds after the fact.

Steve, meanwhile, goes entirely agape in an amazed sort of shock. His eyes go wide, his brows fly up and hide beneath the bangs that hang down over his forehead, and his jaw falls open. And then he starts to smile, a subtle hint of a grin on the corners of his pink lips, like he finds it funny.

“I knew it,” he murmurs to himself.

“…Why are you smiling like that?”

His smirk widens. “That freak said he screwed Vicki Carmichael senior year. I knew he was lying.”

“And why do you look so proud of yourself, exactly?” Robin asks him.

“Because now I feel less bad about never fucking her,” the boy explains like it’s obvious. He set his elbows on the table and gestures wildly with his hands. “I always thought the freak one-upped me because she, like, never gave me the time of day after Hargrove came along, you know? But… It’s good to know that I’m still king.”

His delighted grin is met with confused looks from both you and Robin, who look upon him with twisted eyebrows and squinted eyes. 

“Are you not aware of how strange everything that comes out of your mouth is?” you ask him, only partly joking.

“At least that settles why he wouldn’t let you give him a blow job,” the brunette girl concludes with a shrug as she slouches against the booth. “Poor guy was probably shitting bricks about it.”

You realize then that it does make sense, why he’d always been so adamant about your pleasure and never his own. Why he always touched you like you were some fragile thing he might break, and like everything was new to him. Because it was new to him. All of it.

And even though it baffles you to no end how he went his entire life without someone wanting to jump his bones (because truth be told, you’re doing a terrible job at hiding your want to do just that), the fact still remains — Eddie Munson is a virgin. 

He’s a virgin with an acute infatuation for the local slut, both of you freaks in your own right. 

It just adds more intricacy to a puzzle that already feels so complicated.

“I’ve never been with a virgin before,” you admit quietly, mostly to yourself, as you train your gaze on the straw wrapper you curl around your finger. “It’s different… Scary.”

“Why?” Robin wonders aloud.

“I don’t know. I just— I don’t know what to do now.”

“Just do what you always do,” Steve tells you like it’s that simple. He folds his arms on the table and leans in closer to you. “Experience is good. Okay? Experience is key.”

“No, it’s not that. I think I’m just… I’m scared I’m gonna treat him the way, you know, that I was treated. And I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna do that to him.”

You’re not sure when the shift started, when you stopped being a person to people. You only know that you were something less than that. Somewhere between junior and senior year, you become a plaything that anyone could do anything they wanted to with, and you were too starved for physical affection to tell them otherwise. 

You liked the attention. You liked feeling loved, even if it was only for a minute and a half, and all you had to show for it was a pool of cooling come on your belly.

Eddie’s the fragile thing now that you were then. 

He was a delicate little thing that can break so easily, something you could split in half if you wanted to. 

You don’t. 

You want so desperately to be kind, but you’re scared you won’t know how to, because no one’s ever been kind to you.

Steve reaches across the table for you, taking a wild stab at an attempt for affection after several months of being scared to touch you — he did enough of that, he thought, and he’d hurt you. But he can see the lingering ache hiding in your glazed-over eyes and feels an overwhelming urge to quell your worry. 

Five warm fingers wrap around your wrist, not too tight or too strong, just enough to stop you from cutting circulation off to the tip of your pointer finger and to remind you that he’s still there.

“Trust me,” he tells you with a sudden soft swimming in his caramel-colored eyes and a smile playing on his lips. “You couldn’t do that to anybody. Not even if you wanted to.”  

Your heart nearly stops at his words, at the sheer kindness of them, and at the way he holds you in the soft way you’re used to only Eddie holding you. Your eyes go wide when they flit up to him and then start to sting with the weight of unshed tears. 

You’re quick to blink them away though, while you playfully shrug him off and joke — “stop being so nice before I get the wrong idea, Harrington” — because it’s easier than accepting his tenderness.

Robin takes one look at his fond gaze, all gooey and dripping with honey, and then at your rolling eyes and accompanying shy grin, and groans at the softness of it all. She slides out from the confines of the booth and grumbles something about getting a refill on her milkshake.

“Some fries too, while you’re up?” Steve offers with a hopeful grin.

He’s met with the girl’s signature scowl.

“Please,” you finish for him.

Robin grins. “Anything for you,” she croons, if only to make the boy pout, before skipping off to the counter.

She leans her elbows upon the red wooden laminate top and smiles that same sickly sweet smile for Benny by the grill — no doubt trying to get her refills for free. 

Even though the bearded man seems unimpressed with her presence, you know that he’ll give them to her free of charge. He’s always had a soft spot for her, one of the only people in town who could rival his wit.

The door dings open, a familiar and high-pitched chime that often becomes more frequent as the evening progresses. This time it lets in a foreign, bitter breeze when the door swings open and closed again.

You can feel the chill from a distance — it resembles the crispness of autumn despite being comfortably settled in the middle of March. It nearly takes your breath away, prickles your skin and makes you grimace back a shiver. 

When your eyes leave Steve, a difficult feat considering he’s doing an alarmingly good impression of a walrus by sticking fries in his upper lip, you find that it wasn’t abnormally cold air at all. It was a Peter Parker spider sense form of anxiety that had felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you.

Billy Hargrove used to turn heads when he walked into a room. 

Now he just sucks all the air out of it.

And it’s not like you haven’t seen him since the break up; for a while, the asshole was painted on the backs of your eyelids — he all but haunted your consciousness. You’ll see him around town on occasion, in his sunglasses and jean jacket and too-tight denim pants, while he struts around Main Street with his new girlfriend (otherwise known as, his flavors of the month).

You think this is the first time you’ve been in the same room as him since your split, though. It feels like it must be with the way your throat starts to tighten and you forget how to breathe. 

All at once, you’re scrambling for an exit. It’s like Billy’s a fire and his smoke is rapidly filling your lungs. Your legs start to tremble when your adrenaline spike. Your brain tells you to get out as quickly as you can before he burns you.

Steve notices the look of fear flood your features like a dark storm cloud. You were laughing just seconds before the door opened, equal parts with him and at him, but now you just looked terrified — like a child who’s just spotted a boogeyman in her closet.

He turns in the booth to find what haunted thing has just caught your eye and finds that it’s worse than any monster you could conjure up. It’s Billy fucking Hargrove, with his pretty hair and his pretty smile and his pretty girl under his arm.

His presence filled targeted, almost. Like he chose to come to this diner, on this day and at this time just to fuck with the group of you.

“Don’t even look at him,” Steve advises when he turns back to you. “Look at me, okay? He’s not even worth it. That asshole doesn’t deserve to ruin our day.”

And you try to listen to him. You try really, really hard to let him change that subject to the cold fries or Robin taking too long or a combination of the two, but you can’t focus on him. You’re already so overwhelmed at the sight of Billy that you can’t focus on anything else but him. 

You settle on the fact that you might just have to drag Steve and Robin out by their wrists because you can’t sit in this booth any longer, and you definitely aren’t hungry anymore.

And that’s when he spots you.

Your eyes lock and you freeze, immediately averting your gaze but catching the sudden sparkle in his own as he grins a sly, sadistic grin.

“No way,” you hear him say with a laugh under his breath. The sound of his voice makes you tense. You hadn’t realized how at peace you’d been all this time without having to hear it. Now it feels like so many little needles piercing your skin.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” he greets after he’s made a b-line for your booth and dragged Vicki Carmichael along with him. He smiles with all of his pearly whites while he smacks pungent wintergreen gum between them. 

When he slides into the booth beside you, he does so without invitation, and forces Vicki to slink in next to Steve.

And like it wasn’t already awkward enough, you know Vicki — like, know her, know her. There was a drunken makeout at a Halloween party in ’82. Then a one night stand with her brother before he left for college in ’83. And then her Tom Selleck clone of a father at a sleepover for her eighteenth birthday in ’85. 

You’re not exactly proud of it, but you’ve gotten a rather hefty taste of her family tree, and the fact that both of you know it makes it that much more uncomfortable.

“We’re kinda busy here, Hargrove,” Steve tells him when he notices how comfortable he’s making himself in your booth.

“Ooh… Is this a little date?” Billy teases with a grin.

Steve’s face falls. “…No.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, though the sardonic lilt in his voice tells you that he already knew the answer. He crosses his arms on the tabletop and turns to look at you with eyes bluer than any ocean. They flicker up and down your form. Suddenly, you feel self-conscious in your baggy jean and tank top duo.

“You’ve been seeing that guy, haven’t you? What’s his name again? The, uh— the freak?”

“His name is Eddie,” Steve answers for you, defending him because you can’t find the words to.

“That’s it,” Billy snaps his fingers, then points. He nudges you with his shoulder. The familiar feel of his jean jacket against your skin makes you wince. “God, you must be runnin’ out of steam over there, huh? I mean… the freak? Seriously? You couldn’t do any better than that?”

The jokes were tolerable coming from Jim and Steve and Robin — they weren’t funny by any means, but you could stomach them because you knew they were jokes. But this? This was just to hurt you. And it works too easily because Billy knows exactly how to break you. He knows all the wires to cut and buttons to push because the puzzle of shattering your psyche is one he memorized long ago.

“He’s actually a really nice guy,” you manage through a tight throat, still staring at your fidgeting hands.

“Well, that’s good,” he hums like you need his approval. “It’s about time, right?”

You huff and choose to entertain him despite your better judgment. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He only shrugs. “I don’t know... Just, you know, that found a guy willing to settle for you. That’s all.”

“Settle?” you repeat, trying to laugh despite how tiny your voice sounds.

“You know what I mean, c’mon,” the blonde boy chuckles. “Sluts are fun and all, but they’re not the kinda girls you wanna settle down with. Steve knows what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve monotones quickly and without thinking, gaze hardened and jaw clenched. “And you need to leave.”

“I”m hungry, Billy,” Vicki whines, feeling every ounce of the tension surrounding her — like syrup or quicksand. She slides her permed bangs from her eyes and tucks a rogue strawberry strand behind her ear in a nervous tick. “Can’t we just get something to eat?”

“Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” Billy chuckles.

You grumble bitterly under your breath. “Apparently not…”

“I’ll see you around, Harrington,” Billy singsongs with a grin that wreaks of insincerity while his girlfriend slides out from the booth. He turns to look at you and squints. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? Matter of fact, point Munson my way, and I’ll give him a few pointers.”

You’re uncowed by his offer and angered by his mention of Eddie. Your eyes are stern and unwavering as you meet his gaze for the first time since he sat down beside you. 

“I think you could learn a thing or two from him, actually,” you retort, words sounding sweeter than the venom lingering behind them.

Billy’s grin only widens, impressed by your arguing. “Ooh… I forgot about the mouth you had on you, sweetheart.”

The use of the nickname makes you cringe. It doesn’t sound nearly as fulfilling as it does when it comes from Eddie. Now, it just sounds artificial — degrading.

He leans in close to you like he’s about to tell you a secret and splays his arm along the back of the booth behind you. The nicotine on his breath makes you grimace; it’s intoxicating when it comes from Eddie, disgusting from the boy sitting next to you. 

His eyes are bluer so up close, darker than you remember them being, and you notice he’s trimmed his usual stubble to a patchy mustache. He looks like the grown-up version of the boy you used to know, visually more mature but still the same in his way.

“When he gets bored of you — because, let’s be serious, he will get bored of you — you know where to find me,” Billy murmurs to you, a cynical smirk on the edges of his lips. “I’ll make sure you stay nice and broken in for the next dozen guys that want a taste—”

Steve can’t hear a word from where he sits across the booth, but he’s fuming with fists clenched under the table anyway. He hates how close Billy is to you, more so how uncomfortable you look with the proximity and how his words make you flinch. 

“Alright, you need to leave,” he blurts. “Now.”

Before the blonde could respond with a quip of his own, Robin all but teleports to the head of the table. She’s standing in front of the four of you suddenly, carrying a basket of fries and a strawberry milkshake and wearing a frown on her face.

“You’re in my seat, dickwad,” she monotones, even though she hadn’t been sitting next to you before. She’s not the least bit threatened by the Californian douchebag.

Billy smiles up at her anyway. “I was wondering where the third musketeer was! Still a carpet muncher, Buckley?”

“Happily.”

“What do ya say me and you head up to Lover’s Lake later?” the boy offers despite his date shifting awkwardly a few feet away. It’s a joke, for reasons that are more than obvious, and that’s what makes it so unbearably unfunny. 

He slinks out from the booth. The lack of his warmth is strangely comforting and you’re able to breathe for the first time in five minutes. He stretches his back out when he stands to his full height in front of Robin, then shrugs with his hands splayed on his hips.

“Maybe you just need some good dick. I mean… we’re gonna die anyway, right?”

“I’d rather,” she quips with a rouge-tinted smile.

The way it makes him laugh is startling. He finds a strange humor in being rejected — in most things, really. You still haven’t forgotten the cackles that left his bloodied mouth when Steve delivered blow after blow to the boy’s face in the middle of his living room, like it was all a fun game to him.

That was, of course, before Billy got the upper hand and nearly killed Steve that night. He laughed about it that too, until Max knocked him out with a baseball bat.

He’s got the same grin on his face now as he did then when he turns to look at you. A pink and pretty smirk, just wide enough to reveal the dimple in his left cheek. It’s nothing short of taunting, like he’s mocking you without having to say anything at all.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright?” Billy repeats. He keeps smacking his gum between his teeth and winks at you before spinning on the heel of his boot. He guides Vicki with him to the counter with a hand on the back pocket of her jeans.

Even when Robin slides in next to you and effectively pierces the bubble of tension that had already started to shrink with Billy’s leaving, you still find it hard to breathe. You have to keep reminding yourself, forcing oxygen in and out with wobbling breaths through your nose, or else you just stop altogether.

The other two move on rather quickly, having no trouble finding their voices again after he’s gone. Their words are muffled, though, like they’re underwater.

“I forgot what an asshole he was,” Robin grumbles.

“Well, I didn’t,” Steve retorts, eyes scanning the basket of fries for the most strategic pick of the bunch. “I can still barely breathe through my nose.”

“That’s because you didn’t go to a doctor, dingus.”

“Because I didn’t need a doctor, Robin.”

“Yeah, because being concussed three times in two years is so healthy—”

Your eyes act like magnets as they stay locked on Billy’s form. He leans in closer to Vicki to tell her something, then pats her once on the ass before walking towards the exit again. The door dings when he swings it open. Through the window, you catch him pulling out a red and white pack of cigarettes — the same brand of Marlboro Reds he’s been smoking since he was in middle school.

“You okay?” you hear Steve say, but it sounds too far away for you to realize he’s talking to you.

Robin nudges you with her shoulder to jog you from your stupor. You blink hard once and then turn to her with wide eyes. “What?”

“You doing alright over there?” the girl wonders.

“Yeah,” your answer is too quick and too high-pitched to be true. “Fine.”

“Like, fine as in you’re actually fine, or fine as in, if I leave you alone for too long, I’m gonna find you living under a bridge like a troll?”

You roll your eyes at her. “Fine as in, if someone bums me a cigarette, I’ll be good as new.”

Steve huffs when you hold out the palm of your hand toward him. He’s the only one of you who smokes recreationally enough to carry a lighter and pack of cigs with him. You swear he only keeps it with him because the weight of them makes him feel cool. You’re grateful for them now, though, and for the escape they unexpectedly provide you.

His fingers are warm when they brush your hand. The metal zippo he drops in the center of it is far colder and carries a comforting sort of weight to it. He thumbs a cigarette from the pack for you, and you take it with a sardonic smile and a sickly sweet “thank you, Stevie.” 

Robin gets out of the booth to let you slide out of it.

The door chimes again, this time over your head when you open it. 

Fresh, spring air nearly knocks you on your ass when it hits you for the first time. You realize then, that you’d forgotten to tell yourself to breathe and now your vision’s all swimmy. The cool breeze tries its hardest to quell your swelling anger, but you’re still at a simmering boil. Fists clenched over the lighter and cig duo in your palm and your sneakers slapping angrily against the cracked pavement.

That’s what signals your arrival, the raging stomps that echo in the alleyway Billy takes his smoke break in. 

The boy takes a puff of his cigarette and smirks on the exhale at the sight of you. All he needs is one glance to see how angry he’s made you. It’s an innocent, childlike sort of rage that’s got you all scrunched face and red — a heartbroken girl on a war path.

“I knew you couldn’t resist me, sweetheart,” he taunts with his signature sarcastic smile. He holds his arms at his sides, like he’s waiting for some kind of embrace from you. “You used to be like that all the time — all over me, you know? Clingy.”

“You know what you used to be?” you ask him once you’ve planted yourself a few feet away from him, fists shaking at your sides in a nearly overwhelming mixture of rage and apprehension.

“What’s that?”

“Nice! You used to be nice! Or do you not remember that?” you wonder rhetorically. Your anger fades slowly, an ebbing tide, as a reminiscent sadness eclipses your fury — a flood of blue in all your red. 

The sharp frown between your brows crumbles and so does your clenched jaw as your harsh features crumple like a balled-up piece of paper. You look upon the man that broke your heart with all the shattered pieces of it.

“You used to let me sleep over at your place when I was too scared to sleep alone at mine, and you’d bring me food when I told you I hadn’t eaten all day, and you’d take me on drives when you knew I hadn’t left my apartment in days,” you ramble in a single breath, gesticulating wildly with your hands — waving them at him and at you and the still air between. They fall hopelessly to your sides. 

“You used to be so sweet, Billy…” you conclude with a wavering breath. Your chest trembles on the inhale as you straighten out your shoulders and lift your chin, trying your best not to look as defeated as you feel. “And you know what you are now?”

Billy grins that stupid grin at you, the one that almost looks kind. Almost. It’s still soft in all its insincerity, like a parent entertaining their kid that’s gone on some meaningless tangent.

“No, sweetheart,” he answers after a beat. “What am I?”

“Not nice.”

He scoffs out a laugh.

“You used to tell me, all the time, how scared you were about ending up like you’re dad—” he tenses at the mention of the man, of his own monster in his own closet. “—He’d beat you black and blue every night, and I’d bandage all your cuts and put makeup on you when you begged, so you could go out and pretend like everything was normal. And you know what? You’re just like him!”

Billy doesn’t cower when you walk closer to him. He’s got no reason to be afraid of you, but your words hit him in a place far deeper than a thousand bloodied fists.

“What he did to you, is exactly what you do to me… Or do you know see that?” you don’t wait for a sarcastic reply, mostly because you wouldn’t see the indicators of it through the tears that blur your vision. “You’re not punching me, but it feels like you are. You break me over and over and over and I have to pretend like everything’s just normal and that we—”

“Real mature of you. To bring out the dad-card,” he interjects, if only to stop your ramblings so that he might not have to hear the truth that comes with them.

“You used to he nice,” you repeat, you agonize, you deflate. “Or… Or did you never use to be?”

The shell of your mind answers for you, paints itself with all the memories you’ve been trying like hell to forget for the past six months. It’s easier to pretend the bad things aren’t real than unravel all the reasons why they were bad to begin with, you find.

The negative memories come together like renaissance paintings — dark and gloomy and blotted with too realistic tears and spatters of blood. The oil stains the backs of your eyelids, destined to remain there forever like paintings in museum that’ll stand the test of time if you nurse them well enough.

You hadn’t yet been able to forget the screams and the cracks of fists colliding with bone. They tend to keep you up at night, even when you squeeze your eyes shut and beg for your memory to be wiped away completely. 

Billy crouches over Steve’s chest and pummels wholehearted punches to the boy’s face, never tiring in their force, even well after the boy goes limp underneath him. You beg for him to stop while trying like hell to shield Max from the sight of it all. 

For a while, you’d blamed yourself for it — for Max being there in the first place and for Steve’s cuts and bruises. 

You’d taken the girl and sought refuge in the Harrington home after witnessing a rather heated fight between Billy and his father. There was a sudden urge within you to take her far away from it before it ended how it always did — in weeping cuts and salty tears and insincere apologies when the cops were called.

But you made it worse anyway. 

For Max, for Steve. 

And you apologized profusely for it after, cried to the boy in his bathroom while you nursed his cuts like you were the one who put them there. 

When he told you it wasn’t your fault, you didn’t believe him. Not until now. Not until you realized that Billy had always been angry — always raging with an ocean of fear and grief and violence.

When he fought with his sister, you thought it was normal, that that’s just what siblings did. But the way she cried to you after couldn’t have been normal. Neither could the unearthly fury that washed over Billy like a riptide when he found out you and Max had sought safety in Steve The Hair Harrington — angered that it was Steve and that he couldn’t be that for the both of you.

And then there was the fights. The yelling and screaming and crying fights that felt like the end of the world every single time. The kind of fights you shouldn’t be having when you’re eighteen. You thought that maybe there was some normalcy in the cheating and the secrecy and Billy’s accompanying assholery because that was all you’d ever known.

Or maybe because you had to tell yourself that was normal in relationships because you didn’t want your’s to end. Billy was the first guy to give a damn about you in ways that went beyond just sex. How were you supposed to just give that up?

But then there’s Eddie — Eddie The Freak Munson, who was really just sunshine wrapped up in leather jackets and wild hair and chunky rings and metal music. He makes you happy. The sort of happy that makes you suspicious because something bad has to counteract all the goodness he makes you feel. 

Maybe that’s what this was. 

Seeing Billy after having wrapped yourself in a blanket of Eddie’s warmth made you see somehow more clearly. He loves on you so much that it’s made a mockery of everything else. 

Whatever you had with Billy wasn’t normal, it was a goddamn shit show. He loved you when it was convenient and then had you believing it was the real thing, that you wouldn’t find it anywhere else, when you tried to leave him. 

It was a lie, all of it.

The realization makes you falter.

“Oh, god…” you sigh, voice fragile like cracking glass. “Maybe you never used to be…”

For the first time ever, you see Billy’s grin shake. The edges of it flitter, like he’s fighting to keep the corners quirked up. And his eyes have gone a lighter shade of blue, the way they always did when he blinked back angry tears as he talked about his father.

It isn’t rage glassing his eyes now. It’s something sadder, but still as real — something you never got from him in the two years you were together.

He tries, still, to cover it all up. He smacks his lips against his teeth, sympathetically. “Sorry it took you this long to figure that out.”

The laugh you exhale then is heavy with sadness. Your smile is far away and so is your gaze as you stumble back from him. You turn your head to the edge of the alley where mom’s with strollers and people in fancy suits bustle on the sidewalk and keep your eyes on the strangers that whiz by you’ll probably never see again. 

“This is… This is pointless,” you murmur. His lean form is blurry through the burning tears you blink away. “Every time I see you, it’s just more bullshit so let’s just— let’s just leave each other alone, okay?”

Billy takes a puff from his cigarette. When he sighs, white smoke billows from his plump, pink lips. “That’s a shame… I was just thinking that you were the most interesting you’d ever been.”

The ebbing tide that had just left you rushes back in a bubbling scarlet wave. His words don’t make you sad anymore, they just make you angry all over again because you know you don’t deserve them. And you’re not entirely sure why he’s chosen you to antagonize out of all the other girls who’d made the mistake of falling for him, but you’re too far past the point of not caring to ask.

“Bother me again and I tell Chief Hopper,” you threaten even though you don’t feel very threatening just now. “I know you’re not scared of me, but you’d be stupid to be scared of him.”

“Why’s that?” he wonders before sticking the half-gone stick between his lips again.

“Because he runs Hawkins. And he fucking hates you—” for what you did to me, you almost say. You swallow the words down like bile before they have the chance to spew out. “And… And be nice to Vicki. Okay? She’s too good for you. Don’t do to her what you did to me.”

Your plea for another is the last thing you say to Billy before you turn away from him. You wouldn’t be upset if it was the last thing you ever said to him. You’re grateful for the resounding silence that follows. It’s nothing but the sound of your receding footsteps and the soles of his shoes scrapping the concrete as he snuffs out his cigarette. 

There is no snarky remark or insincere plea — just two people who used to love each other that have no idea to exist together anymore. 

When you step outside the brick confines of the alleyway, you feel as though a fraying string that had always connected the both of you had been finally cut.

It allows you to take a deep breath in for the first time in months. A lungful of fresh air that cleanses you, body and mind.

And when you catch Steve and Robin idling at the corner and doing a terrible job of pretending like they hadn’t just been eavesdropping, you don’t get upset or angry with them — you don’t feel much of anything, really.

You just hand the boy his lighter and unused cigarette and let them comfort you on the drive back to your apartment.

A misery sandwich. That’s what Robin calls the three of you and the heaping pile you lay in. 

Your queen-sized bed is in no way meant to accomodate three moderately sized adults, but you make it work anyway, like you always do.

Steve lays on his back, legs crossed and hands tucked under his head. Robin is on her stomach on the other end of the mattress, arms wrapped around the pillow she smushes the side of her face into. You lay between the both of them — on the both of them. Sprawled out sideways, you’ve got your head on propped up on Steve’s ribcage and your legs thrown over Robin’s thighs. 

The awkward position is the most comfortable you’ve ever been.

“I can’t believe that asshole had the nerve to show up to the diner on our day,” the boy rants. “And then sit in our booth, I mean— who does he think he is?”

Robin’s response is mostly muffled by the pillow. “I thought he left, like, forever ago.” 

“Maybe he just couldn’t stay away. It’s Hawkins, shit attracts shit, right?” Steve answers with a shrug that jostles your head slightly. It doesn’t little to knock you from your stupor, though, where you’ve been stuck for the better part of the day. You pick at the skin around your nails with little regard for how red and raging it's gone.

He notices this and thumps you on your temple — hard enough for you to feel it, gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt you. 

You turn your chin to your shoulder to look over at him. He tilts his own head to stare down at you, honey-tinted gaze somehow stern and soft at the same time. “If he bothers you again, I’ll kill him.”

You’re instantly warmed by his protective disposition. You know that he cares about you, even though you like to joke that he doesn’t. Steve hurt you once, made a promise to himself to make it up to you, and then just never left you alone. 

You’re grateful for it. 

You’re not sure who’d be the butt of every joke if he wasn’t around.

“Good to know,” you answer, nodding against his side and trying to hide the smile he gives you. You fail. “You think if he breaks your nose again, it’ll pop back into place?”

His face falls. “You’re real sweet, you know that?”

You open your mouth to respond, something along the lines of “I’m always sweet. You of all people should know that, Stevie,” before a knock sounds at the front door. It comes in the several rhythmic raps that Eddie is known to give when he’s got a tune stuck in his head. 

Apparently now, it’s the chorus to “Why Can’t This Be Love?” The Van Halen song he said he couldn’t stand before you.

Robin huffs at the sound of the muffled taps. She frowns like a child. “Who the hell…?”

“It’s just Eddie,” you affirm through a half-hearted grunt as you rise from your comfy position.

That brightens the two of them up almost immediately. Her and Steve share a look you can’t place as they grin at one another. Then they turn back to you with identical mischievous twinkles in their eyes. “Your boyfriend is here,” the former of the two singsongs.

You roll your eyes, but make no move to correct her. 

When you stand from the bed and make the short journey towards the door, you hear the patter of their feet following close behind you. 

“Gonna go all the way tonight?” Steve teases and jabs you on the shoulder. “Do you want us to leave?”

“No, nothing is happening. And yes, I think you should leave,” you monotone playfully.

Robin rushes past you suddenly and grabs the brass door handle before you’re able. She swings it open without thinking twice about it. Her sudden appearance, coupled with the fact that it isn’t you, startles the man on the other side of the door.

Eddie’s umber eyes go wide, brows raising and disappearing beneath his fluffy bangs, as his head jerks back.

“Eddie Munson,” the girl full-names the stranger she’s never spoken a word to before now. She leans against the doorway and effectively blocks the boy’s view of you. Steve, who squeezes himself in beside her, doesn’t make it any easier. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too, Buckley…” he wavers, trying to peer past them for any sight of you.

“Perfect timing, Eds,” you call out from behind them. “They were just about to leave.”

He’s relieved at the sound of your voice — even more so at your appearance when the two in front of you step off to the side to toe on their sneakers. 

You don’t look much different than when he saw you last. You’ve put on some makeup that’s started to smudge after the long day and changed your baggy sweatshirt for a more fitted tank top and boxers, but other than that you’re still the same. Still familiar and comforting in your way, a home away from home.

His smile is a tired one and it wobbles at the edges. “Oh, shit, am I— am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him. “You’re saving me, actually.”

“Oh, give me a break,” Steve scoffs. “You love us.” 

The boy pulls you into a hug before he leaves, and it’s not the rarest thing in the world, but embraces like this do tend to be few and far between. He whispers  “use protection” in your ear and then a sharp “ow!” when you jab him in the ribs.

He and Robin smile kindly at Eddie when they walk by him and out the door, but waste barely a second before turning back around and grinning wildly at you. Steve flashes you a thumbs up while she mouths a cartoonish ‘good luck’ — like it’s the first time you and Eddie had ever been alone together. Like they were just on your ass about having been with him this whole time.

You usher Eddie and shut the door behind them. A quiet sort of peace settles on the apartment like a weighted blanket. The boy revels in every bit of its warmth.

Exhaustion drips from him like syrup. He’s sticky with it. His eyes have lost their usual twinkle, weighed down now with the burden of his fatigue. His face has lost most of its color, leaving a pale sheath of monotoned skin, and his hair is wilder than normal, with an unintentional sort of ruggedness to his curls.

It’s what being without you has done to him.

“You okay?” you ask him softly. It almost makes him want to cry.

“Yeah,” he answers anyway and idles in the spot where your kitchen meets your living room. “Just had a pretty shitty day. Wanted to spend time with you.”

“Me too… About the wanting to spend time with you part— and the shitty day part, too, I guess.”

Eddie smiles at your rambling, but purses it to the side to conceal it from you. “And since it is just about our…” he trails off and bends his elbow to check the watch on his wrist. “…Twelve hour anniversary, I picked us up some takeout.”

He sets the plastic bag on the counter. The red logo of Oriental Jade on the side of it makes your stomach roll with a distant hunger. You hadn’t realized how starved you were feeling after you abandoned your early dinner at Benny’s. It makes you more grateful for Eddie, who always seems to be on the same wavelength as you without even trying.

“Keep this up and we’ll be married before we hit hour twenty-four,” you joke as you rifle through the cartons — chow mein, sweet and sour chicken, dumplings, the works.

Eddie settles in next to you, propping his elbows on the countertop. “Well, I’m pretty sure the courthouse opens at nine, so… What were you thinking for the honeymoon? Hawaii? Bora Bora?”

“How about a cabin in the woods where no one can find us?”

“Hmm… Spooky. Sexy. I’m into it.”

You settle in the living room and eat on the couch while She Ra re-runs play on the television. You try to teach Eddie how to use chopsticks, though he can only work them with his non-dominant hand and all the wrong finger placements. You think it’s cute to watch him fumble with them, and you giggle about it until you’re scolding him for trying to feed Bowie some noodles. He laughs as you swat at him.

When all the containers are fully scrapped clean and tossed in the recycling bin, you migrate to the bedroom — which is perhaps too raunchy a phrase to use when the two of you only bury yourselves under the covers to talk shit.

Eddie drags out the chunky box fan you use when the air conditioner goes out in the summer — because it always goes out in the summer — and props it on the chest at the foot of your bed so the covers will billow around the both of you. “And it’s perfect because we can stay in the fort forever and not get hot,” he tells you, all giddy about it like he's a kid again.

“What if I get cold?” you retort.

Without missing a beat, he answers, “Well, lucky enough for you, I know several ways I can warm you up, sweetheart.”

He ditches his leather jacket and strips down to his boxers and settles in beside you underneath the blankets. The two of you lay shoulder to shoulder while you trace absentminded patterns on the palm of his hand and tell him about your day.

You make sure to leave out all the re-traumatizing-Billy-Hargrove bits, though. You focus mainly on the tense drive with Hopper and the small fight you’d had with Steve on the drive to the diner later that afternoon about the lyrics to Love My Way (both of you had been wrong).

Eddie tries his hardest to focus on your story and your fleeting touches, but he’s too far in his own head. You tell him all these things but he can’t stop thinking about himself — about whether or not you might’ve brought him up somewhere in between. 

He wouldn’t have blamed you, if you had. Steve and Robin are your closest friends and, for whatever reason, so is Chief Hopper, you’re bound to bring him up eventually. He was just hoping it would’ve been in a better capacity. Maybe about how kind he was or what a god he was in bed — not how he could only be one of those things because he’d never been anything in bed.

“It doesn’t make things weird between us, does it?” he wonders out of the blue.

You halt mid-sentence and turn to him with furrowed brows. “What?”

Eddie realizes then, that the first half of the conversation with you had only happened in his head. He prays that it’s too dark beneath the covers for you to see how red his cheeks get. “Just… What we talked about this morning. About me… you know…” He finds it hard to say the words. Or any of them at all.

“Why would it make things weird?”

“I don’t know. Because I wasn’t… totally honest with you, I guess? I feel a little bad about it, you know?”

“It’s okay,” you assure and turn on your side to be closer to him. Eddie stays on his back, more than happy to let you cuddle further into him. “I guess I do wish you’d said something before, though.”

His chest tightens. “I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t know how to—”

“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad!” you interject quickly when you catch the spiral of regret he was about to twist himself into. You curl tighter into his side, tossing a leg over his thigh and wrapping your hand around his bicep in an effort to melt with him. When he turns to face you, your noses nearly brush.

 “That’s not how I meant it. I just meant that, if I’d known before, I wouldn’t have… I would’ve taken things slower. I wouldn’t have been so, you know, so all over you.”

He hates how apologetic you sound. Like there was ever an ounce of him that would want to take back what happened that night at his trailer or a part of him that might hate how much you love on him.

“I liked it. I do like it.”

“Maybe we can just start over,” you offer. “Pretend like none of that ever happened.”

Eddie knows there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to forget about a single damn thing — not his cum stained jeans and how you looked so pretty washing them for him, not the feel of your tits in his mouth or you wrapped around his fingers, not how you made him blow his load all over his fist just by talking to him. 

He goes along with it anyway, though, just for you.

“Okay...” he nods slowly, then squints over at you. “You’re still my girlfriend, though, right?”

“Of course I am,” you giggle.

He grins proudly to himself. “Well then… Hope it’s not too early to have our first kiss then?”

It makes you roll your eyes because it’s such an Eddie Munson way of asking to kiss you. You told him earlier the day that he never had to ask you — in fact, you’d prefer it if he’d just kiss you out of the blue and take your breath away without you ever knowing it was coming. But there was something foreign and sweet in his little reassurances.

“Kiss me silly, Eddie Spaghetti,” you beam. He twists on his side to press tiny pecks to your smile.

It’s rather strange, you find, to kiss someone this way without the intention of it ever becoming something more. You kiss him just to kiss him — just to map the outline of his cupid’s bow and memorize the pattern of his tongue. Just to feel him, as much of him as your mouth will allow you to.

With one arm curled under his head and the other cradling your jaw, when his watch alarms — high-pitched beepbeepbeeps in quick succession — it’s sudden and close to your ear. 

Your lips click in protest when they part. His are pink and swollen and glossy with your spit. He smiles with them. “Happy twelve hour anniversary, sweetheart.”

“How long are you gonna make that stupid joke?” you laugh like your heart isn’t swelling so much you’re scared it might burst entirely.

“Uh, I was thinking… forever. Yeah. That sounds about right,” he concludes after a moment of feigned thought. He turns his watch off again and you swear you see him set for another twelve hours from now.

“Forever?” you echo.

“Uh-huh. Forever—” he presses his lips to yours once. “—And ever—” Twice. “—And ever.”

Eddie kisses you until you’re flat on your back and surrendering to each of his tiny little pecks. You twist your hands in his hair and let him love on you a little while more. You giggle when his mouth trails from your lips to your chin to your jaw to your neck. Please don’t get bored of me, you beg silently within your laughter.

I don’t think I could even if I wanted to, he answers with each kiss his sprinkles to your starved skin. How could I, when you’re the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me?

[cinnamon-girl-writes]

dinner dates ! jjk x reader series pt. 3/4

by @cinnamon-girl-writes

featuring: nobara, n. kamo, sukuna, todo | see: part 1

nobara kugisaki:

okay so nobara wants somehthing that’s super instagram-able because there’s nothing better to her than posting cute pictures of her girlfriend!!

so…she takes you to a cat cafe 💗

and oh my gosh it’s absolutely adorable

you guys wear MATCHING HOT PINK TRACKSUITS that she bought you guys for your birthday>>>

they’re plain pink and embroidered with your initials and a heart on the sleeve (XX + NK 🤍)

when y’all get there, the employee greets you and takes your food rders

then she takes you to your own private room and when you enter it’s filled with cats 🐈

there’s fluffy cats, orange cats, long hair cats, etc etc

you and nobara are absolutely in LOVE with them (and eachother ofc)

the food arrives a little bit later and it’s super good! you ordered katsudon and she ordered pan fried noodles and you got some sushi rolls to share

you take so many pictures of the cats and of each other! her favorite picture from the night is one of you smiling with your chopsticks in hand and a soft gray cat sleeping calmly in your lap 🥺

you also get a super cute picture of her holding a chubby orange cat like it’s a baby, complete with a swaddle (her jacket)

you guys had *so much fun* and have so many cute pictures to remember that night!

when you go back to her dorm that night, you scroll through all the pictures on your phones while cuddling in her bed and watching high school musical ✨

noritoshi kamo:

(inspired by this~link~ flower garden)

i think kamo is such an awesome & underrated character!! i hope y’all like him as much as I do ✨

so for background, you go to tokyo jujutsu high and kamo of course goes to kyoto jujutsu high

you met during the goodwill event and we’re just gonna pretend that shibuya didn’t happen ok 🤷🏼♀️

you and kamo have been dating for three years now and today’s your anniversary! so he wants to do something super special for you 💗

he’s very introverted so he definetly wouldn’t want to do something around a lot of other people

he’d rather just spend time with you in a totally private setting

so he takes you to…a picnic!!

omg my heart 😭💞 anyways

he prepares everything the night before: the food, a bottle of champage, a blanket for watching th clouds ✨

he comes to pick you up late that afternoon wearing a white button up and navy blue slacks (oh good lord i-)

you’re wearing a baby pink sundress that’s decorated with little green and white flowers so you guys look SO GOOD next to each other all matching and stuff 💜

he literally looses his breath when he sees you, like he thinks you are SO gorgeous (and you are babe)

he places a hand on the small of your back and guides you to his car where he drives you out into the countryside

eventually, you make it to a beautiful flower garden that’s filled with the greenest grass and most lively flowers you’ve ever seen 🌷

he tells you that the garden has been owned and taken care of by his family for generations and it was just passed down to him 🥺

you of course tell him that it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?? and he gets all blushy because he doesn’t recieve a lot of compliments that aren’t about his cursed technique ☺️

he sets out the blanket and helps you sit down on it

when he opens the picnic basket you see the most gorgeous assortment of pastries, sandwiches, and pies🥐

of course you gush to him about how he’s the perfect boyfriend and this is the picture-perfect date

the food is delicious; he ordered some of everthing from one of your favorite local cafes in Tokyo, knwing exactly which items on the menu were your favorite 💞

while you eat, you chat idly about the things you had coming up in your lives (although you tried to avoid the less appealing topics, such as when noritoshi would have to become the head of his family)

you tell him about how you’re visiting your sister in Osaka this summer and the surprise birthday party that you, yuuji, nobara, and gojo had planned for megumi

he tells you about the poetry book he’s been reading lately and how learning cursive is going

you two also discuss what you wants your lives to look like after jujutsu high; becoming professional sorcerers, moving in with the kamo clan, starting a family…

stop i’m squealing blushing twirling my hair-

the two of you become tired after your meal so you lie back on the grass, watching the clouds go by and pointing out the little yellow butterflies when they pass by

eventually, the sky becomes dark and loses it’s blue color, fading into a deep maroon color

the two of you pack your things up and head back to the school, his hand on your thigh as he drives ❤️

when you get there and he walks yo back to your dorm, he tells you how much he loves you and how he never wants to let you go 🥺

ryomen sukuna:

ok so this is gonna be based off of upperclassmen!sukuna

a little backstory: sukuna is your upperclassman at school and he used to play with you and mess with you because he liked you~ eventually you caught on and then he asked you out! you’ve been dating ever since (in this fic you’re both still in school) and he’s super protective of you (i.e. no one else can mess with you but him)

you and sukuna have been dating for about a year now!! 💞

he decides that he wants to take you to a new sushi bar in Tokyo this weekend

it’s really modern and expensive looking and you’re like???? babe where tf did you get this money from??????

but he decides to splurge on his girl because he loves you so much 💞

you guys order a couple different rolls (some of your favorites and some of his)

his favorite roll is the california roll but he also loves nigiri🍣

and the food turns out super good btw!

you and sukuna talk about school mostly: which classmates you thought would get together, the teachers that you liked the most, what assignments you were working on

i think it’s safe to say that sukuna’s favorite subject would be history

so he would accidentaly start gushing to you about a topic that he just learned about and then stop because he thought he was being nerdy when in reality you actually thought it was adorbale the way he was so passionate about history 💞

after lunch, you guys go back to his house (we’ll say it’s not a boarding school) and chill and watch tv together and yea 🥰

bonus: you convince sukuna to start watching dance moms with you and at first he’s like “🙄 yeah whatever ok” but he lowkey starts to get REALLY into it????? like atp he’s yelling at the tv like “KELLY YOU BITCH”

aoi todo:

i feel like your relationship with todo would be so sweet 🥰

i can see y’all going on a bunch of fun dates and one of those includes…

movie dates!!

i think that todo would love movies and so movie dates are definetly a thing for him

you guys decide to go see a new thriller movie that came out recently

he’d buy you all the snacks you want and i can definetly see him enccouraging you to eat enough🥺

surpirisingly i don’t feel like he’s the type of person to sneak food into movie theaters so you would buy everything there (it’s fine he can probably afford it)

imagine y’all sharing a packet of sour straws 🥺

he also gets popcorn of course because it’s a movie classic and it would be his favorite movie snack

you guys get settled into your seats and you’re happy to discover that they’re the comfy heated massage seats that recline

which not only makes you super comfy but also slightly more terrified of the scary movie when the figures jump out of nowhere on the screen

overall you’re very comfortable though

todo sits with his legs propped up in front of him by the reclining chair and has one arm wrapped around you from behind, resting his hand on your side 

for the most part, todo isn’t scared of the movie that much

BUT you can feel his grip on you grow ever so slightly tighter during intense scenes 😭 poor boy

afterwards he would ask you a bunch of questions about the movie: what did you think?? who was your favorite character??? were you surprised when (character) died???

you can tell he’s trying so hard not to look like a total fangirl right then but yeah he loved it

you match his enthusiasm in your answers because you love to see him happy (and you also really enjoyed the movie)

alternatively: you accidentally fell asleep during the movie (in your defense, the heated chair was really comfy) and so you make up your answers to his questions so you don’t make him feel bad even though he wouldn’t care

afterwards, you get ice cream and walk around the mall ❤️

[angelbaby-fics]

Hi love, how are you! I haven’t been on tumblr much lately but I still love you and your work!! I’ve been dealing with some tough stuff with my health and have been little a lot more lately. Would you write Cg!Ransom as just turning into a melted fit of mush for the reader?Just like absolutely spoiling them and doing whatever they want when they don’t feel good?

Love,

🐣

Daddy's Day Off

Word Count: 750

A/N: Aww hello angel! I'm glad to hear from you again & I hope you're always doing alright 💕 eeep I love Ransom so much, especially in the cold months I just want to cling to him hehehe 💕

It was a busy day full of stressful meetings and Ransom was not at all pleased about it. As much as he loved being extravagantly rich, the people he had to deal with on a daily basis almost made it not worth it. Almost. One thought of you, your bright eyes and contagious smile, and Ransom was reminded that he’d go through hell just to make that happen. He checked the time on his phone, just an excuse to look at the background image really. It was a picture of you and him, a selfie he had taken while you were curled up with him on the couch - he smiled at the camera, but your loving gaze was locked on him. Every time he saw this picture it reminded him what he did it all for.

He couldn’t do it today though, he just couldn’t. You’d had a nightmare earlier, screaming yourself out of slumber in the wee hours of the morning. The rest of the night was spent with you curled up against his chest and him hardly sleeping, dutifully keeping watch on you to make sure you stayed at peace. It broke his heart to close you out of his home office that morning, your rejected face echoing through his head as he tried to focus on today’s planner entries. All he wanted was to be finished with this stupid workday and to spend the rest of it with you. Your love was the only thing that could relieve his stress after a long day of dealing with a bunch of a-holes. Yes, he needed his baby just as much as you needed him. 

To hell with it. Ransom sent a short email to his assistant to cancel all his meetings as he needed to take a personal day. With that, he shut his laptop and tossed his work phone into his desk drawer, nearly slamming it shut. He was so eager to get away from all this and just relax with you. When he opened his office door, he almost expected you to still be there looking up at him with tearful eyes, but like the brave and independent baby he’d raised you to be, you had already begun trying to distract yourself until Ransom was finished with work. 

You knew Ransom didn’t like distractions when he was in work-mode, so although you’d rather spend the day curled up with him just as you’d spent last night, you took it upon yourself to keep occupied. That’s how Ransom found you on the floor of the living room, the massive flatscreen tv playing a marathon of Bluey episodes above you. Every color of crayon was scattered all around you, a pile of already finished drawings stacked upon the coffee table. At the sound of Ransom’s heavy footsteps, your head shot up from your picture of a cat in a garden.

“Daddy, you finished already?” You asked hopefully.

“Daddy got a surprise day off, baby!” He replied, scooping you up into his arms. 

“What are we gonna do?” You asked, looking up at him with more love in your eyes than Ransom thought he deserved in his whole lifetime. 

“Anything you want, babydoll. I’m all yours.” Ransom carried you to the giant sofa, keeping you pressed against his firm chest as he swaddled the two of you together in a big plush throw blanket. 

He handed you the remote, happy to sit through any cartoon or cheesy musical if it meant making you happy. When he heard your tummy rumble after a while, Ransom grabbed the house phone and ordered your favorite pizza, without even needing to ask if you wanted it. He knew you better than he even knew himself. He helped you eat your pizza as you watched tv, something you rarely got to do at the same time. When you finished eating, he carried you to the kitchen to get you dessert and a bottle, not wanting to put you down for even a second.

Hours later, the credits on your second movie of the day were crawling across the screen, and Ransom was sure you were fast asleep, when suddenly he heard your tiny voice muffled through the blankets and his comfy thick sweater.

“Dada?” You asked, even smaller than you’d been this morning.

“What’s up, babydoll?” He whispered down to you.

“You gotta get a day off more often.” You mumbled, drifting into sleep.

“I will, baby. I will.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Okay idk if u wanna do this but May I request a crossover of vita Carnis and Mandela Catalouge headcanons?..

For Adam,Jonah and Mark. Basically they arrive at theyre s/o’s House..and find out they have a pet trimming named Meatloaf or something.s/o treat them like they’re baby like any pet owner would,what are they’re reactions?

Awwwwe yeah my two current analog horror fixations let's goooo

.......

Adam

He shows up at your door right as you were getting food for your pet.

It was especially important that you fed it at this particular time so it would settle down for the night...

But Adam's persistent knocking forces you to stop and answer the door, momentarily leaving it with an empty bowl.

"Adam? What are you doing here so late?"

"Did you get my message? Our client wants us to go to his place now. I got the salt and everything."

"...he's gonna have to wait a minute. I just gotta feed my pet and-"

"C'mon, babe. We can't lose this offer. I'm sure your pet's not gonna starve to dea-"

All of the sudden, both of you hear metal scraping and a loud whining noise that sounded like a dying animal, startling Adam while you just stare blankly at him. "You were saying?"

"..what the hell was that?????"

You decide it's better to just show him, so you go back inside and introduce him to your pet: a small six-legged fat lump of raw red meat with a collar around its neck.

"What the fuck is that?? An alien??"

"No, it's a Trimming. And their name is Meatloaf."

"....that literally explains nothing."

After feeding your Trimming and calming it down, you told Adam a little bit about its role in the Vita Carnis family.

Where you're from, they're common house pets, being even more popular than dogs or cats as they were docile and willing to eat anything.

When you're done explaining, he just stares at Meatloaf for a while, who's now swaddled in a blanket and curled up in your lap.

It looks kinda gross, but he is intrigued.

Apparently, it's trained to sniff out Mimics and scream when it detects one....which has saved your life on multiple occasions, and it did the same when it sensed an Alternate in your house not long after you moved here.

That's cool.

He thinks you should bring it on BPS assignments.

Jonah

On the other hand....

When you mentioned owning an exotic pet, Jonah didn't expect anything like this when he showed up uninvited, letting himself in with a spare key.

"Hey I brought some pizza for--WHAT THE HELL IS THAT, S/O?!!

Babe, please don't scream-"

"Am I tripping or is tHAT A FUCKING FETUS??!!!!" He points wildly to the Trimming sitting in your kitchen sink, covered in soap and looking saddened bc your bf interrupted bath time.

Meanwhile, you're pissed off by his yelling and covered its sensitive ears, glaring at him. "Will you calm down? This is a Trimming..you haven't heard of them?"

"No???? It looks like the goddamn chestburster from Alien! What is it?!!"

He was ready to run out of the house, but you convinced him to stay and you explained what a Trimming is, rinsing off the soap while doing so.

Poor guy's still trying to comprehend why (and how) a thing like this even exists, eyes wide as he watches you dry it off and care for it like you would a puppy or kitten.

It doesn't help that you call it "Meatloaf" and have a cute little bow on its collar/head.

Nothing you say will stop him from getting nauseous, suddenly losing his appetite for the pizza (especially since he got pepperoni and sausage on it).

You reassure him it's not gonna go to waste, instead feeding it to Meatloaf in bite-sized pieces.

Jonah's just in shock as it happily devours them with no hesitation, before it waddles back into your arms for cuddles.

You made it your mission to get him to hold it, trying to show him it's not scary at all.

It's....still a work in progress.

Mark

You knew exactly what he was gonna think of your Trimming.

So you explained what it was exactly, even showing him a photo so he's better prepared to meet it when he comes over.

The last thing you wanted was for him to scream "demon" and throw a bible at your sweet little nondemonic meat pet.

But still...he clams up when you greet him at the door, holding Meatloaf in one arm.

"O-Oh, it's..uh....cute...?" Mark tries his best to be polite, yet his face is as pale as a ghost's.

You're just relieved he didn't panic and cause a huge scene.

However, for a normally social creature...Meatloaf became unusually shy around him, flinching away when he attempted to pet it and whining if you put it down for too long.

It constantly followed you, refusing to be in the same room as him.

This keeps happening whenever he visits, and he's unsure what to do.

So one day he asks if it'll ever warm up to him.

"Oh! How could I forget? Trimmings usually like it when they're sorta "involved" in conversations..if that makes sense." You tell him. "Meatloaf probably thinks you're unfriendly because you talk to only me when you come over."

"....so..how do I fix that? By talking to it myself?"

"Yep!"

"Will it...understand me?"

"Not sure, but it just likes hearing chatter." You then speak to Meatloaf, scratching under its chin to stir it from sleep. "Hey, Loafy. My boyfriend wants to tell you something."

With the Trimming now looking at Mark, he feels...awkward, but he finally stutters something.

"H-Hey, uh...so I'm Mark. But you probably know that. S/o talks about me a lot and...uh....anyways we've been together for a few months. Sorry if I didn't seem that "friendly" to you, but I hope um...you...approve of us..?"

He trails off as it shifts out of your hold and climbs into his lap, curling up and cooing happily.

His eyes are HUGE and he's filled with fear(tm), but eventually makes the brave decision to pat its fleshy head, hearing it...purring?

Then you see his smile.

You're extremely happy about this bonding moment and had to snap a picture of the two.

'Yeah, this one's definitely for the books'

[eddiesgorlie]

Baby Talk

Dad!Austin x Mom!reader

Summary: Austin takes care of reader after she has their baby

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff.

Word count: 1,424

Baby screams interrupted my deep sleep, I started sitting up when I felt two hands lightly pushing me back into the hospital bed and pulling the scratchy blanket over me. “Shh… shh.. I’ve got her.” He said kissing my forehead. “She’s hungry.” I said sleepily. “Then I’ll bring her to you.” He said walking over to the hospital room bassinet. I watched as he lifted her and started rocking back and forth, he smelled her diaper and gave her a kiss on the head. “Well you aren’t stinky so mama must be right.” He held her as I lowered the hospital gown so she could breastfeed. “Come here Presley.” I said as he laid her on my chest. I got her comfortable and she started suckling. “You look so beautiful.” He said. “No, I look like I haven’t slept in three days.” I snapped. I quickly realized how mean that sounded. “I’m so sorry, I’m so tired and I know you are too.” I said as tears started filling my eyes. “Please don’t cry baby, I know you’re tired. But look at how beautiful our little creation is.” He said, stroking her hand with his finger. “She’s so beautiful, she looks like you.” I said looking down at her. “She has your nose and hair.” He said kissing her button nose and jet black hair. He was so in love with her I couldn’t help but start sobbing, I’m so tired of these damn hormones. “Hey, don’t cry.” He said kissing me. “I’m just so happy.” I said.

She stopped suckling and Austin picked her up, he started patting her back to try to get her to burp. “Good job.” He said as she let out a big burp. “Well thats another thing she got from her daddy.” I say giggling. “How rude.” He said smiling as he turns to look at me. He laid her down in the bassinet, kissed her head and walked back to lay on the cot. “Baby you look so uncomfortable.” I said looking at him, his feet hanging over the end of the cot. “Its just perfect, I’m here with my two favorite girls.” He said smiling. “Come ‘ere.” I said patting the bed. He got up and laid in the hospital bed next to me. “You were right, this is a lot more comfortable.” He said kissing my head. I snuggled into him and fell asleep.

“Ok, great. I’ll tell her when she wakes up.” Austin whispered. I started waking up when I heard two people in the room talking. I slowly opened my eyes. “Oh good morning Mrs. Butler.” My nurse said. “Good morning Tammy.” I said smiling. “I hope you three slept well, its going to be a busy day since you three get to go home.” She said smiling. I loved the sound of that, the three of us. “I’m so excited.” I said kissing Austin. “Me too.” He said. As soon as the nurse checked mine and Presley’s vitals and cleared us to go, Austin helped me change into a comfortable t-shirt dress and started packing all of our things up and putting it in the car. “Ok this is the last load of things, I’ll take it to the car and call you when I’m up front.” He said smiling. “Ok.” I said grabbing my phone. Tammy helped me into a wheelchair and swaddled Presley in a blanket and as soon as Austin called she wheeled me into the elevator and to the car. “Thank you so much Tammy.” I said after she helped me into the car as Austin was buckling Presley into her car seat.

I buckled my seat belt as Austin started the car. “Are my girls ok back there?” He asked looking in the rear view mirror. “We are doing great.” I said playing with her small hands. He pulled out of the hospital parking lot and got on the highway to drive home. When he parked the car in the driveway, he got out of the car and opened the backseat door. He helped me out first and then got the carseat out. “I’ll carry her.” I said reaching for the carseat. “Are you sure? The carseat is heavy.” He said. “I’m sure.” I say smiling. He handed me the car seat and unlocked the front door for me. I was immediately greeted by our dog, Milo and cat, Eloise. “Hi honeys, you gotta let mama through and then I’ll give you all of the loves.” I said baby talking to them. I walked to the nursery and shut the door behind me so I could get Presley all situated. “This is your room baby.” I said walking her around the room. I lifted her out of the car seat and changed her diaper, I put her in a comfy onesie and laid her down in her crib.

Austin quietly walked in the room to check on me. “I just put her down for a nap.” I said walking out of the room. “Ok, I’ll keep an eye on her. You need to rest.” He said. “No, I have to get laundry done and start cooking dinner.” I said. “Ashley is bringing dinner and I will do the laundry.” He said. “But I want to spend time with you.” I say pouting my lip. “We can spend time together in an hour, you need to get some rest now.” He said. I kissed him and started walking to our bedroom.

After my nap I put my robe on and went into the kitchen. “Y/n!” Ashley said as she hugged me. “Hi Ashley!” I said. “How are you doing?” She asked. “I’m pretty sore but I feel good and of course my wonderful man is taking good care of me.” I said looking over at Austin, he was wearing an apron and warming the food that Ashley brought. “Can I see baby Presley?” She asked excitedly. “Of course.” I said as I walked toward the nursery. I opened the door and walked over to her crib. She had her eyes wide open. “Good morning baby girl.” I said picking her up. Ashley held her arms out and I laid her in her arms. “Oh isn’t she beautiful.” She said tearing up. “Doesn’t she look like Austin?” I asked. “She does but I see a lot of you too.” She said looking up at me. Presley went from a happy little baby to a screaming baby in a matter of seconds. “Oh its about that time she needs to eat.” I said laughing as Ashley put her back in my arms. “It was so nice to see you Y/n.” She said. “Come by again soon, it was so nice to see you.” I said smiling. “Of course.” She said before she walked out of the door.

I sat down in the rocking chair and opened my robe and pulled my pajama top down. Presley started suckling so I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. “How are my favorite girls doing in here?” Austin asked, still wearing the apron. “We are both hungry.” I said laughing. “I can tell.” He said laughing. “You look cute.” I said. “Well thank you, the apron is from a very fancy designer called Target, my beautiful wife gifted it to me.” He said, pronouncing Target in a French accent. “Your wife has great taste! Come on, give us a spin.” I said cracking up. He did a spin and posed at the end. “God, I love you so much.” I said laughing. “I love you so much.” He said as he kissed me. “I can’t believe we’re parents.” I whispered. “Its hard to believe.” He said.

Once she finished eating, we put her in her baby swing while Austin and I sat down to eat. Ashley brought us chicken fettuccine Alfredo and a salad. “This is amazing.” I said. “It really is.” Austin said. “Babe, I’ve got the night shift tonight. You look exhausted.” I said as I held his hand. “I feel great, you need the rest honey. You pushed a baby out of you.” He said with a laugh. “I’ve been resting and I feel great. You can take tomorrow nights shift?” I asked. “Deal.” He said.

We got ready for bed and put Presley in her crib. “I love you.” I said laying my head on Austins chest. “I love you.” He said. Just as sleep reached me baby screams interrupted, I giggled and got out of bed.

[flower-of-the-desert]

More Modu Reading Notes

I'm so bad at this lmao I've been trying to keep up with my notes as I was reading but I just keep getting sucked into the story and forget to write down anything. Anyway, I wanted to put down some thoughts here tho before I start on book 4 properly. Under the cut for spoilers from books 1-3 and rambling a lot I guess lol

Ok so! The cases are interesting and I like following along with the investigations and whatnot but I have to say I have way less interest in them than I do in watching the development between Fei Du and Luo Wenzhou. Like oh my god that is just?? CHEF'S KISS MUAH.

It's so much fun seeing Fei Du start to open up to LWZ and their romance progress to so much intimacy and flirting and cute banter. Especially with the way book 3 ended with Fei Du saving LWZ?? That's my hissy cat developing human attachments! I think I've added Fei Du to my list of favourite catboy characters lmao. He's my new precious mew mew and I think he should have everything he wants. The way his backstory is slowly coming to light (breaking my heart in the process) and how that impacts his thought processes and actions and how he views LWZ and other characters makes me so hnnggggg I wanna sink my teeth into him and not let go.

I love the way Priest creates these characters seriously. And like during the last flashback to Fei Du's childhood when I realised why exactly he had a panic attack about touching Yiguo when he went to feed him and why he didnt react at all to LWZ grabbing his neck and the text made a point of saying that it looked like he knew exactly how to avoid choking like he had previously done so-

IT'S FINE I'M FINE 😭😭😭😭

I just have a strong need for LWZ to swaddle Fei Du in a blanket and keep him there for the foreseeable future pretty please. Speaking of which, also loving the way LWZ is coming into his own way of learning more about Fei Du and what he needs and how to take care of him. He's so gentle dom daddy coded in my head mmmmm. The way he wont leave Fei Du alone anymore even when he's pushing LWZ away and even when he's provoking and /trying/ to get LWZ to blow up on him like before, maybe treat him roughly and leave, anything else but LWZ noticing that something is really wrong - BUT THEN!! lwz sees through that act and breaks through Fei Du's masks with this gentleness and no nonsense care that promises Fei Du stability and safety and help to understand the things he's not had the chance to experience before. When LWZ told him he can ask about the human things he's struggling with and LWZ will explain them and they'll figure them out together I was so 🥺🥺

Basically Zhoudu is my new addition to favourite priest ship list hahaha, joining the ranks of wenzhou and changgu 😍😍😍

The rest of the characters are so lovable too! I LOVE TAO RAN BEST BOY EVEN IF HE IS STRAIGHT AS A POLL LOLOLOL. He reminds me so much of Gu Xiang and Cao Weining, my precious cinnamon rolls babies 😭

Lang Qiao is so cute and the new nerdy glasses boy fits right in with their shenanigans. I love seeing their interactions with LWZ (emperial father lmaooo) and how they're slowly figuring out the gay disaster that is brewing between him and Fei Du lmao.

Speaking of which the last thing I want to scream about omg that scene in the hospital when LWZ just declares Fei Du will be his lover in front of his parents and Tao Ran?? GOT ME FEET KICKING AND SCREAMING skjadsdjksd

Overall 10/10 so far, another banger book from queen Priest. I can't wait to finish it and get more Zhoudu and cat dads?? PLEASE I NEED ZHOUDU CAT DADS!

[multi-lefaiye]

find the word tag!!

I don’t participate in these nearly enough considering it’s a tag game I think is really fun.

Anyway, I’m yoinking the open tag from the wonderful @albatris hehe!! :’> The words it gave are: strike, blanket, watch, taste and good!

I will tentatively tag (with no pressure to any of y’all): @emotionalsupportpuma @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @paradisiacalshroud @wherearetheplants @idkjustgowithitok and anybody else who’d be interested!!! Feel free to tag me if you do--I wanna see!! Your words are chance, winner, fall, foundation, and scrap!

I’m taking each of these from another character study thing I’ve been writing on and off for quite a bit now, haha!

strike:

Her funeral was a small affair, with only a few attendees. She hadn’t had many friends in the city, after all.

Still, Salvatore made a point to attend, and he left a bouquet of forget-me-nots for her on her grave. Though he’d never been the most sentimental man, he thought she would appreciate the gesture.

Ginger had wanted nothing more than to leave an impact on the world. She wanted to dig deep through the cracked and broken stones beneath her feet, to push and push and strike gold. All she wanted, and all she deserved, was a chance to truly shine.

Though she never had the chance to affect the world as a whole, she left an impact on one man. Because the flowers were correct. Salvatore would never forget her, and he would carry her name with him for the rest of his life.

blanket:

Thankfully, everything went as expected, and soon Leslie came screaming into the world, a tiny bundle of flailing limbs with a scowl on her face and a dark tuft of hair on her head. She wailed from the moment her tiny lungs took their first breath, as though crying out to all the stars and heavens themselves, demanding that they hear her and take her seriously.

As Anna, exhausted as she was, cradled her tiny baby in her arms, she remarked to her husband, “My, this one sure is lively!” Leslie, though she was far too young to understand the words, pouted nonetheless as she squirmed in the soft blanket she’d been swaddled in.

Westley chuckled breathlessly, his relief and pride plain on his face as he agreed, “We’ve got a real spitfire on our hands here.”

watch:

When Jesse held Leslie, he held her like she he was confused about what to do, something he clearly wasn’t used to. Though she was quiet, he watched her with wide eyes, as though waiting for her to start screaming again. For her part, Leslie stared up at him, her tiny face screwed up in a frown.

“Can someone else take it?” Jesse said after a moment.

“That’s not an it,” Anna chastised her son. “That’s your sister.”

“Of course,” Jesse said, holding Leslie out to her. “I just don’t want to hold her. All she does right now is scream, anyhow.”

taste:

Prudence Burke was, to a young Leslie, practically ancient, with a severe demeanor about her that made every interaction with her unpleasant, leaving a sour taste in the young girl’s mouth.

And she was far, far less charitable than Bethany was when explaining what happened to Scott.

“Don’t say that name, child,” she’d snapped at Leslie, her piercing blue eyes narrowed in displeasure. The wrinkles cracking across her face only served to make her look angrier, and for a moment, Leslie thought she looked like a large, angry cat. Leslie had never been afraid of cats, and she wasn’t afraid of Prudence.

“Why not?” Leslie asked, full of the persistent curiosity carried by so many children. “He’s my brother, ain’t he?”

good:

The first to hold her was her eldest brother, Scott Burke. Scott was a fine young man, having only recently come home from his time overseas. He was his parents’ pride and joy, as he’d fought on the front lines in the terrible war. Combat had left him with a prominent limp and a sad, desperate sort of exhaustion in his eyes, but he still wore a smile on his face most days.

He was a good man, the sort of man many boys aspired to be. Though he was young, he had much to be proud of. At least, that’s what he’d always been told.

Scott held Leslie like she was something fragile, something to protect. He ran gentle, world-weary fingers over the soft brown hair on her tiny head. Even when she batted his hand away with little fists and whined, he only smiled warmly.

[hopelesslydimwitted]

i’ll never forget the love of my first cat. i was pretty young, and i’ll regret that i didn’t appreciate him as much as i should have at the time

he was a black cat and we got him as a kitten. maybe that’s why he was so patient with child me

i remember a time where he let me swaddle him up in a blanket like my baby doll. it was a light pink blanket, and he let me set him on it and wrap it around him. he was stiff and probably wasn’t thrilled, but he didn’t fight or bite me. i made sure to carry him so carefully to show my parents

i remember a time when there was an outdoor cat in my neighborhood. he was an orange tabby my brother and i would pet while we waited for the bus. we thought he was pretty chill, and most of the time he was. but once, he approached me while i was in my garage. i’m not sure what set him off, but he began to hiss at me. my cat was not an outdoor cat, but the door to our house was open. as soon as the tabby approached me, my cat ran out and got into a fight. they were a blur of yowling and loose hair, and i had to swat the tabby away with a broom. i was so happy my parents didn’t find any blood or injuries on him. he may have just been defending his territory, but i was a part of it too

i remember a time my babysitter went to tuck me in one night. it was the first time she’d had to stay so late, so this was new. for whatever reason, he decided he didn’t like that she was so close to me while in my bed. while she was pulling up the covers, he jumped up and bit her on the hand. that was the first ‘for real’ bite he did (tho there was no blood drawn). the second was when a friend and i were play fighting. she was winning, and that involved ‘kicking’ me. he had been upstairs for most of it, but he came down as she was kicking at me. there was a blur of black and suddenly he was holding onto her leg. he only bit once for a few seconds, not enough to draw blood, but it took him a few more moments to detach from her leg.

I don’t remember these times, but my parents tell me about them. he would wait until i was asleep before coming and sleeping at my feet. i was a kid and didn’t like him on my bed, so if i was awake i would kick him off. without fail, i would push him off my bed, and without fail, he would return as soon as i stopped moving. he was usually gone by the time i woke up, but my parents claimed he spent most nights with me. he just wanted to be close, spend that extra time with me, even if i would so adamantly reject that.

i wasn’t able to be there when he died. it wasn’t sudden, he had been sick for a few weeks and wasn’t getting better. my parents had made an appointment, but didn’t tell us. we were in middle school, and i know it would have broken my heart to be there. but i still wish i had been able to properly say goodbye that morning, more than just a scratch on the head as i passed him by. he had given me so much love through the years, and i hope he knew he was loved in return

[ariannawrites]

Arianna brushes her hair out of her face, still soaking wet from the rain. "Her Mother is dead Kitty and I couldn't give her to that man. I just couldn't. I took her and I ran. I hope he doesn't find us. That man was scary Sister. He made my hair stand up and I couldn't leave this baby there." "Suzie was her mother. She was one of my clients. She came to me for help getting away from him. I went over for a check and Suzie was dead. I don't know if she told him where she was or if he was stalking her. There was a needle and the police will probably rule it a drug overdose but I've been speaking with her almost daily. I didn't know she had started using again. After the baby was born she got help. I helped her get help, Kitty." Arianna breaks down sobbing and Kitana slides a chair underneath her.

Arianna wipes the tears off her face and she continues "I only met the baby's father one time. Suzie was job shadowing and I stopped by to check on her. He was outside of her workplace staring at nothing. He wasn't watching her work, He just stared at nothing. Like he was in a trance or could see something nobody else could see. Dead inside. His aura gave me the creeps. I approached him outside her job and I told him that he was not allowed to be there. He barely looked over at me and returned to his dead stare. I walked back in with Suzie and called the police. I went with Suzie when she asked for a protection order."

Kitana busied herself in the kitchen while her Sister spoke and before long produced a baby bottle. Arianna gathered the baby and blanket wrapping the infant swaddle style. She settled into the biggest of the chairs and began to feed the starving child. She sent Kallie to her closet to get her babydoll clothes, leftovers from Kallie's infancy. Kallie gathered everything and in typical 4 year old fashion, she put it all in a grocery cart toy and dragged it to the kitchen.

"Can I help dress baby Mama?" "I dress Dolly all day!" Kallie continued to babble about dressing Dolly as Arianna stood and looked at her Sister. "Kitty we have to keep her. You know that the Organization will help us. Like they did before. I'll raise her with Kallie and she never has to know about him. We're her family now. Suzie had no living relatives, that's how she fell into my care. Sisters at the women's shelter called after he abused her the last time. We were all working with her and she had just moved into her apartment with the baby and everything was going well."

Kitana had gathered the necessary supplies on the table for a bath minus the tub and when she got that far, she pulled the door open to the backyard and called Kallie to her "Come little one let's fetch the wash tub. Get your raincoat and rain boots. It's still raining cats and dogs out there." Kallie's eyes widened for a moment, likely at the thought of falling cats and dogs, and then she scurries into action.

With child Kallie properly dressed and at her side, Kitana hurries out the door and squeals of surprise and delight can be heard from Kallie. The two rush off the back porch to the the small shed at the back of the yard and Arianna hears the door bang open and then a few minutes later closed again. Kitana carries Kallie in the tub on the way back to the back to the porch where she keeps a small storage of old towels in a hamper.

Kitana sets the old, steel washtub down and immediately starts drying Kallie while she still squeaks and squeals at the unexpected rain adventure. Kallie grabs at a towel and dabs and pats herself, doing the most a 4 year old can do.

"Take off those soggy boots Miss Kallie and get ready to help us. That little baby doesn't have a Mama like you do. Do you think you could share your Mama with her? I bet that you could teach her lots of things."

"Does that mean I would have a Sister like you and Mama? Because that would probably be okay. I never knew about sisters before. I think that's okay for me."

Kallie scampers inside, and Kitana grabs the tub. She sets it down on the kitchen floor and gazes over the bar counter, heavily decorated with potted flowers and assorted herb pots, to find Arianna and the new babe asleep in the corner. The chair was oversized and worn to perfection. Kitana had been meaning to replace it with something new, but it just hadn't happened yet.

She quietly covers the sleeping mother and child. She says a small prayer over them and ushers Kallie out of the room. She explains to Kallie that after their journey today they must have been very tired and she promised that Kallie could help with the baby tomorrow. She went about the same bedtime routine Arianna usually followed and Kallie fell right to sleep.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Only See

☆ Summary: Spencer thinks back to all the times he’s been in love, has mistaken pain for love, or wished he was in love

☆ Content Warning: Mentions of Ethan, Lila, JJ, Maeve, and Cat

☆ Pairing: Bi Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

☆ Word Count: 2.8K

☆ Note: This is something that I’ve been working on for a long time! Please tell me what you think! The biggest thank you to @reidslibrarybook for helping me get through this! So I really really hope you all like this, I think it's one of my favorites that I've written. There isn't much dialogue and it's pretty much taking place in Spencer's mind. But I hope you give it a shot and let me know what you think!

Latest Fic | Masterlist (WIP) | Taglist |

I Only See

Spencer knows all too well what it’s like to have a broken heart. To be nothing but skin and bone without anything to mend the ache of being alive. Sometimes it seemed like no one could ever love him again; like everyone could see right through him. They all leave him broken-hearted or start out at friends and end up being his enemy.

He can comb through the memories, searching a part of him that they didn’t touch. Spencer’s been in love. He’s been loved. He’s mistaken obsession and toxicity for love and passion. He’s almost settled for mundanity when all he’s wanted is to be cherished. It’s a wicked game when you’ve got so much to give and even more to lose.

Ethan is dark gray.

And missing him is like trying to forget someone Spencer’s never met. Which, with his mind, is impossible. Ethan floated into his life as quickly as he left it. He’ll always hold a special place in his heart. Spencer supposes that everyone’s first kiss does. He remembers being a sweaty-palmed terrified 19 year old with the weight of the world on his shoulders. With Ethan, in all his wisdom beyond his years glory, Spencer felt like he was a kid again.

Ethan made him laugh. Ethan made him feel whole. And Ethan, even though he left him with a note, made him feel loved.

They were just kids, stupid kids chasing each other in grassy corridors thinking that their glass hearts could never be shattered. Back then Spencer solved the unsolvable, but the only time he was wrong was when he thought Ethan would be his forever. With hindsight, Spencer thinks it was a little foolish of him to think that what was nothing but a fling would lead to something real. It was real. At least to a ganglier, naïve Spencer. It was the realest thing he felt.

And when he left, Spencer was alone, again, and that was the hardest part to swallow. He missed Ethan, but what he missed more than anything was having someone to love him back.

JJ is baby blue.

The kind of blue that you see when you look up into a clear sky. The kind of blue that looks soft to the touch. The kind of blue that lavender smelling babies are swaddled in when handed to their loved ones.

Spencer remembers his first day at the BAU. He remembers the squeaky coffee maker and his even squeakier shoes. Gideon told him that FBI agents don’t wear Converse. But JJ, JJ , JJ told him in order to do his job right he had to let himself be himself. All he can remember from that interaction was her baby blue sweater.

Looking back on it, Spencer supposes that the love, the romantic love, he felt for JJ was bottled up pain from Ethan leaving him. She was kind to him. She didn’t seem to mind his quirks or his weirdness. When he’d lay awake at night all alone in a strange new city, he’d imagine her there next to him. Maybe it wasn’t so much as having her, but having someone to figure out his early adulthood with.

She made him feel warm and safe. And Spencer supposes that somewhere along the line he mistaken those feelings for love. It was love, sisterly love that he’d realize years later as he held her baby swaddled in a baby blue hospital blanket.

But in the thick of it, the Spencer with squeaky shoes and baggy pants was head over heels with the JJ with baby blue sweaters and kind smiles. And when Gideon, the man who he thought knew everything, handed him tickets to a sports game Spencer thought that all the cards had finally fallen into place. He stuttered and stammered his way through asking her to the game, hardly knowing him what sport he was about to watch. Despite his memory, Spencer doesn’t remember a word of what he said. All he remembers is the way excitement seemed to thump through his body, like when Ethan would grab his hand or when they lay in bed thinking of a not so far off future.

It was love.

Or so he thought.

When JJ showed up with Penelope Garcia following close behind, Spencer knew that JJ didn’t feel the same as him. He knew that the feeling buried deep in her heart would never be returned by the blonde girl with the canary yellow sweaters and kind smiles. Even though Spencer didn’t get the magical ending with JJ that he once found himself falling asleep to, he did love her. And he’ll be forever grateful for one Penelope Garcia for showing up to a football game on a blustery January.

He loves JJ and whenever he sees baby blue it isn’t sadness or yearning for her love that pulls at his heartstrings, but nostalgia for their stolen youth and collective their innocence.

Lila was this purple-pink.

The kind of color that’s a blink and you’ll miss it when the sunsets. Spencer’s always loved sunsets. Unlike sunsets, Lila never came back. But then again, Spencer wonders if he ever had her at all. When he thinks about that night when she dragged him into the pool and kissed him, all he can remember is how good it felt to feel wanted again.

He’s a man of science. Spencer knows that when humans are under a lot of stress and pressure their brain chemicals are messed up. Sometimes humans mistake the rush and adrenaline that’s needed to survive for love. When she kissed him Spencer felt like he was flying. He closed his eyes and felt like he could taste the sweetness of the candy pink and charming purple on her lips. And even now, when he’s a lot older and a lot less flighty, he can almost taste it again. It’s a bit more bitter now. Like him.

Transference. It was taught in the Academy. Drilled into their heads. Never get involved with victims. Even if they are dazzling movie stars with charming blue eyes and more than that meets the surface. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t much of anything, except a kiss that wanted him to be kissed for the rest of his life.

Maeve.

Missing her is blue and it’s like something he’s never known.

It’s almost too hard to talk about. Spencer knew she was beautiful even before he laid eyes on her. Her words and her mind and her kindness was her beauty. He spent months, years, grieving for the living. When Spencer lost Maeve, he let his future slip through his fingers like her blood ran through his hands, slick on his skin.

He felt bad for himself. For the children he’d never meet. For the memories of gingerbread houses at Christmas and tacky Halloween decorations and the mess of a beautiful life that could only live in his dreams. He stayed awake for days after her death, not because he would see her lying there with a hole in her head. But he’d see her happy and alive and in love. He could bear it, no matter how selfish it made him. He could bear seeing her happy if it wasn’t him making her happy.

After she died, Penelope signed him for group therapy. Ten or so people would meet every second and fourth Saturday in the basement of a local YMCA. The leader would supply stale donuts and even older coffee. At “Group” Spencer would hear stories of loss and life. He dealt with it his whole life, but he didn’t realize how red blood was until it was split from someone he loved. Loves?

Part of him felt like a fraud at the meetings. The people there lost wives, husbands, spouses, parents of their children. They had memories of gingerbreads and trick or treating. They knew their lovers’ middle names and where they went to high school. They cried at their funerals.

Spencer wasn’t even sure if Maeve celebrated Christmas or liked Halloween. He had no clue what her middle name was or where she went to high school. And he couldn’t even bring himself to go to her funeral. How could he have? How could he have stood there with her parents and people that actually knew her. He fell in love with a faceless voice and never got the chance to tell her that.

He’ll lay awake at night in the weeks following her death murmuring the same sentence over and over until it no longer sounded like words.

I love her. I love her. I love her.

He loved Maeve. He spent years thinking that she was his twin flame. Bruised and broken, painted the saddest blue you can imagine, Spencer wallowed in himself. He loved Maeve, but he couldn’t remember the color of her eyes. The eyes that looked at him like he was the only man in the world that mattered. The eyes darkened when the light left her soul. The eyes that closed forever before he got the chance to kiss her.

Maybe they were blue because missing her is the saddest blue.

Cat Adams is burning red.

He hated her. He hates her, but why does she stick in his mind? Maybe he sees himself in her, a darker, twisted, evil version of himself.

And yet were times that Spencer thought he was so broken that he actually loved Cat Adams. Or at least that darker, harder, more twister, more evil side of him did. The side of him that slammed her up against a cell wall with her throat wedged between his two hands. Maybe that cruel and twisted part of him was nothing short of in love with her. Or maybe only someone completely broken and shattered inside could give him the tiniest sliver of something resembling love.

He knows now that it wasn’t love that he felt for her. It was something that burned red inside him. He’ll never forget the amused look in her when he nearly killed her with his bare hands. He hated the way her eyes glinted with mirth, but he hated the rush of power he felt even more. He’ll never forget the smell of her sweat and the feeling of her pulse against his skin. Etched into him like a red-hot brand. She scared him, toyed with him, tried to ruin his life over and over until all that remained was a broken version of who he once was. Spencer knows love now. He knows that he could never love Cat, even if at times it seemed like he could have.

It was messy and confusing. He hated the way she would get under his skin, but what he hated more was the rush that he felt during the chase. Spencer, a man who is always sure, wasn’t too sure who was cat and who was mouse. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Whatever she made him feel, Spencer knew that he never wanted to feel that way again. He’s hated himself his entire life, but when she got into his head, he despised himself.

Dark Gray.

Baby Blue.

Purple Pink.

Saddest Blue.

Burning Red.

He was heartbroken and alone when Ethan left him in that crappy first apartment. He spent years thinking that he lost his chance at love when JJ and Penelope came to the game with matching jerseys and pom-poms. Or when Lila kissed him in the pool and he felt like he could fly, but then she pretended like nothing ever happened between them. Maeve, whose eye color he can’t quite remember. And the manipulator who made him believe that love was nothing but mind games.

He used to think love was nothing but missteps and mistakes and all wrongs without any rights. He used to think that love would never be in the cards for him– that it was just a far off fantasy with a faceless person. He used to think love was cruel and unkind.

He used to think love was black and white. You fall in love and stay in love. Or maybe it was dark gray, or a soft baby blue. Maybe it was like candy purple-pink. Or the saddest blue. He once believed love was burning red.

But it’s not.

It’s golden. Golden like the daylight that drips from the blinds. As Spencer lays in bed he feels two arms snake around his torso. He can hear your breathing against his shirt and feel your palms against his bare skin. You are so close to him, pressed up perfectly against his body, and Spencer’s scared any movements will wake you up.

He likes you being so close though. So close that your hair tickles his nose. So close he can feel your heartbeat if he concentrates. So close that he’s not sure if it’s his heart beating or yours. It doesn’t matter whose heart is beating because his only beats for you. Spencer stretches his neck, breathing in the tea tree and lemon smell of your shampoo. Whenever he hugged you and squeezed so tightly he would breathe in the smell of home. He smelled the fresh scent, letting it wash over him.

At first, he was too timid to ask you the type of shampoo you used, so he snuck into your bathroom, while you read stretched out on the couch, to find the name of it. Maybe luckily, or unluckily, you caught him. He half expected you to be creeped out by him sneaking into your bathroom trying to figure out what shampoo you used, because, if he really thought about it, it was kind of creepy.

But you didn’t find it creepy when he stammered out what he was doing in the bathroom. Instead you smiled and held out a hand to him. And, without the slightest bit of hesitation, he clasped it. He held on tightly as you dragged him headfirst into the kitchen. You sat him down with his back towards the sink and his neck hanging over the edge. He felt the warm water from the faucet run across his head, warming his scalp. From his peripheral, he could see you pump the shampoo on your hand.

The golden liquid sparkled in the kitchen light; specks of sudsy gold flickering on your hand. You didn’t say anything as you washed his hair, letting him be with the thoughts in his head and feeling your hands against his scalp. Nothing needed to be said, but it was the moment that Spencer knew he loved you.

Now, as you lay sleeping in his arms, Spencer can’t remember a time that he didn’t love you. He’s been through a lot of hard things in his life. A lot of grief and heartache, nothing came easy. But loving you is the easiest thing he’s ever done and will ever care to do.

You stir, perhaps awoken by his thoughts, against him. Still twisted in the bedsheets, Spencer holds his breath as he watches you wiggle under the sheets. You open your eyes, squinting at the sunlight that blinds your eyes. Spencer loves the sunshine on his face, but you’ve always found it a bit annoying. He would say that you’re sunshine enough and don’t need anymore, thus you find even the smallest bit too much.

You’d roll your eyes and kiss his nose when he said silly things like that, which would just make him say them more often.

He sits himself up on his elbow, watching you stir below him. You hate early mornings, almost as much as he does. Which is good, considering the lack of sleep Spencer does get. Most of what would be considered dates was actually you two just sleeping in one of your beds. And eventually that just turned into your shared bed, something that still makes Spencer both smile and blush at the very thought.

“Good morning,” Spencer whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. You groan, feeling the sun against your eyes and his lips against your skin, “You’re sleepy this morning,”

“Not my fault,” you mumble into his chest, scooting even closer to him, “You’re impossibly comfortable,” you say sighing.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Spencer says, trying not to be what you call, a hopeful romantic, but it’s impossible when you’re so beautiful and think he’s just as beautiful in return, “I love you,”

“Shh,” you respond, putting a hand against his face. Your touch, even years later, stings his skin and heals his back up in one motion, “You’re making me sappy and it’s too early for that,”

“I can’t help it if you look like an angel,” Spencer mumbles, brushing your hair from your face to kiss you. Lazily, you welcome the intrusion. Kissing you, even though he can’t even remember how many times he’s done it, will never get old. He’ll try to memorize the feeling of your lips against his lips or the sound of your breath against his skin. He’ll soak in your tea tree and lemon shampoo and let your love wash him over and over until he’s golden.

Suddenly, you break the kiss, but press a quick one to his forehead. You smile, chuckling as Spencer leaps forward at the sudden lack of contact.

He smiles to himself, looking up at you with the sunshine behind your head. Spencer doesn't believe in angels, but if he did he swears they'd all have your face and your voice and smell like tea tree and lemon shampoo. He's never sure of anything, yet for this: beyond all reasonable certainty, Spencer knows that love is golden, that you are golden, like daylight.

“Come on, Spence,” you say, climbing out of bed and onto the hardwood floors, “we’re burning daylight,”

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[sif-the-tsunami]

But Baby it’s cold outside

Just some Winter fluff, for @cavillsthighs​ writing challenge.  

Sy and an unnamed OFC

PG 13, just some spicy language, no smut

Word count: 1300ish

It had been a cold, miserable day. The snow was turning into slush, graying with dirt and grit from the street. The retired Army captain sighed as he hopped out of his old beat up Jeep. The damn cold made his old bones hurt. The chill felt like it was seeping in as he carefully walked to the front of the porch attached to a bungalow. Sy took his gloved hand and brushed the snow off of the banister. Before he made it to the door, he heard the familiar happy barking of the little dog who lived there. The lock clicked open, there before him stood a woman wrapped in a big sweater and fuzzy socks up to her knees.

“Come in, come in, its so cold.” She said, ushering him inside her home. “Thank you for coming, I have no idea how to fix my stupid heater but the fireplace is working well.”

Sy just grunted a little, and kissed his favorite human on her cheek. She smiled at the cranky man, knowing that once he warmed up his disposition would thaw out a little as well. The woman went back to her laptop on the kitchen table and worked on the novel she had been writing. Sy went to the furnace and started tinkering with the machinery. About forty-five minutes, he came back up the front of the house and witnessed the human burrito swaddled in her fuzzy blanket.

“Baby, I got to go get a couple pieces from the store to finish fixing the furnace. Do you want me to bring you back some coffee or something else to heat you up?”

She said softly. “If you want to being me back anything though, I would love a cold brew.”

“A cold brew? One of those iced coffees?”

“Yeah.”

“You shiver every time you walk out of the range of the fire place, and you want an iced coffee?”

“I’m asserting my dominance over this damn cold front, don’t you judge me, Sy.”

“You are so lucky I love you as much as I do,” he chuckled, “Because, my hand to Jesus, you are the most stubborn woman I have ever met.”

He watched as she stuck her tongue out at him over the top of her computer. She might have also playfully given him the finger.

A quick trip to the local hardware store and a stop by their favorite coffeehouse later, Sy made it back to the house and let himself back in. His beautiful companion was napping on the couch near the fireplace with her tiny dog snuggled by her feet, her laptop was still open. She must have just drifted off. Worried that she might drop the expensive equipment, Sy moved the laptop to the coffee table next to her. He then placed the cold brew in the refrigerator and went back to work. The small dog would wag his tail whenever the grump Captain would look over at them. He eventually hopped down and walked over to the large man.

When the first met, he had told the pup while teasing him that “Dogs under fifty pounds were essentially cats, and cats are worthless.” However, the dog never seemed to hold his prejudice against small animals against him. After a short while of being together, Sy would have no problem with sitting down on the couch with the ten pound pooch sitting in the crook of his arm like they had been best friends for years.

The little dog laid down with tiny crossed paws, and kept a watchful eye on the man doing the repairs on the house’s furnace.  Sy, who was not one for useless words, started telling the little dog what he was doing the same way a dad would explain to a child. He would occasionally reach down and give the small animal a little scratch or some love. The two of them spent the next hour getting the furnace up and running.

After getting it repaired, Sy set the temperature to a wonderful cozy setting and then leaned over the sleeping woman and kissed her forehead to wake her up. He waited until she woke up before he stopped rubbing the back of her hand. She smiled as soon as she saw him.

“Hey, sorry, I didn’t realize how tired I was.”

“It’s okay baby, I fixed the furnace. We will be nice and warm here in no time.”

“How long have I been out?”

“I’ve been back for maybe an hour, so you have a nice little nap. Did you get any writing done while I was gone?” “Yeah, I got some proof reading done and made some adjustments. My editor is happy with my progress. Once I wake up all the way, I’ll start working on dinner.”

Sy decided that he was going to help her in the kitchen. He had a feeling that between the joking, the kissing and general shenanigans it probably took longer to make their meal than it would have if he lover had just made things by herself. Once they where able to settle down with bowls full of steaming chicken soup with biscuits swimming in broth. They sat down on the couch in the back room with the fire place and watched a silly action movie. As the sun set, Sy didn’t notice that outside of the cozy home, the snow had started coming down in earnest.

“Well, baby, I think it’s time for me to get going.” He said as he put his hoodie back on.

“I’m glad you came over today, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could have with the right tools, I believe in you.” He looked out the window on the front door and sighed deeply. He pulled on a knitted hat that she had made for him.

“Sy, it’s really coming down out there. You have some clothes here, stay here for the night. Its nice and warm in here.”

“I don’t know, you know my roommate will have some opinions about me staying out all night. I told him I would help him in the morning.”

“Its cold outside, I don’t think they will mind.”

Sy smirked for a moment, “But what will your neighbors think?”

“That I saved your life, now you won’t catch pneumonia. I’ll be a hero. They will throw me a parade.”

“Oh yeah? I think they will all be talking tomorrow. I can’t besmirch your honor.” Sy teased.

This made his love laugh so hard she snorted. He felt like he won just a little bit. “Tell them you slept on my couch if it makes you feel more noble. It’s up to your knees, and I know how this makes you hurt. Stay with me, we’ll have some more wine or some cocoa and go to bed. Tomorrow you are free to do whatever you want.”

“What if your mother comes over in the morning, what will we tell her?” Sy said thinking this was it. This would make her crack.

“My mother is wondering when we are planning on giving her grandkids, not if we are ever going to move in together, or get married. She wants to know when you plan on knocking me up. So… there’s that.” She made a face that said she wasn’t joking.

Sy’s eyes almost popped out of his skull and he choked on his own saliva. He couldn’t think of a comeback. He looked off into the distance for a moment like he was doing the mental math. “Well shit, sugar, I can’t think of another reason to leave.”

“What can I say, I can be very convincing.” She said as Sy leaned in to give her deep kiss. “You aren’t any obligations to get me pregnant thought. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hun, I thought your mama hated me, so I’m just excited she doesn’t. Now, let’s get to making that cocoa. You have the marshmallows I like so much?”

[spooderboyandtincan]

I wish you would write a fic... about the Superfamily 💖

“I want a baby.”

Steve looks up at his husband. “Tony, what the fuck?”

“A-a baby. A kid. A child.” Tony sits next to him on the couch. His eyes are shining with excitement.

“We can’t get pregnant,” Steve points out, turning back to the book in his hands. Tony grabs it and throws it on the coffee table. “Hey!”

“There are other- other options,” Tony says, grasping Steve’s hand tightly and staring into his baby blue eyes nervously. “Adoption. We could adopt.”

The supersoldier sighs, shaking his head. “Tones, we can’t take care of a baby. How about a dog? Or a cat, cats are always-”

“Steve, please,” Tony whispers, eyes suddenly filled with tears. Steve frowns and cups his husband’s cheeks. “I want a baby. Can you just- just please, think about it. Please.”

Steve is so shocked, by Tony’s tears, by the desperate tone in his voice, by the eagerness on every inch of his face, that he nods. “I will,” he promises.

The love, the relief, and the excitement in Tony’s eyes make it all worth it.

~~~~~

At first, Steve thinks Tony has forgotten about the whole baby thing.

He should have known better.

Two weeks later, Tony barges into the training room, breathing heavily, eyes wild.

“Tony, what the hell? What happened?” He hurries towards his husband. In lieu of greeting, Tony shoves a Starkpad into his hands.

“I found him,” he says breathlessly.

“Who?” Steve asks, still eyeing the other man worriedly. He still hasn’t looked at the Starkpad. Tony gestures to it in frustration.

“Our baby.”

Steve freezes. He looks at the pad.

It’s a series of emails from one Mary Parker. Apparently, she and her husband recently split up and she is no longer able to provide for her newborn son.

“Tony, honey…” he says slowly, apologetically. “I don’t know if we can take care of a baby.”

Something in Tony’s face breaks. “Right,” he whispers, more to himself than Steve. “Right, what-what was I thinking? We- I can’t be a father.” Steve opens his mouth, to apologize, to take it back, to do anything, but Tony turns before he can and walks back to the elevator.

Steve blinks back the tears in his eyes. He’s broken something inside of Tony, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Doesn’t know if he can, really.

He looks back at the Starkpad, re-reading the emails, filled with so much enthusiasm. We would love to adopt Peter! Can we meet him soon? and He’s perfect. He’s perfect for us. My husband and I can’t wait to meet him!

What have I done? Steve thinks.

He scrolls down, and finds a picture of a tiny- literally tiny, the kid could easily fit in his palm- baby, swaddled in a pink blanket with a soft hat on his head. He’s covered in wires and tubes, but even Steve has to admit it- he looks perfect.

~~~~~

Tony won’t talk to him. It’s fair, but it hurts all the same. When they get ready for bed, Tony opens his mouth for the first time in hours and informs him that he’s sleeping on the couch.

Steve knows he deserves it.

The next morning, JARVIS tells him that Tony is in the lab and should not be disturbed. Is it Steve’s imagination, or does the AI sound colder than usual?

They can’t take care of a baby, though. Raising a tiny human for 18+ years? They just can’t do that.

Right?

He pulls up the picture of the baby- no, Peter.

What harm is there in meeting him? he thinks.

Tony ignores the knocking (pounding) on the lab's reflective glass walls until Steve finally shouts “I wanna meet Peter!”

The door slides open. “Really?” Tony says, disbelief clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Yeah, I really do.”

Tony stares at him, then bursts into tears, sinking into his chest weakly. Steve does his best to soothe him before realizing that these are happy tears, relieved ones, and that Tony couldn’t stop crying even if he tried.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks his husband gently. Tony laughs, shakes his head. “Tony.”

“I know, I know. I just couldn’t.”

Steve frowns sadly. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

The billionaire just shrugs. “Maybe you were right.”

“I wasn’t,” Steve says firmly, waiting until their eyes meet. “You’re gonna be a great father. We can do it.”

Tony stares back at him, and Steve realizes suddenly how terrified his spouse is. “We can do it,” he says again.

“We can do it,” Tony echoes, and maybe, just for a second, he believes him.

~~~~~

From the instant they lay eyes on Peter, they’re both hooked. He’s even tinier in person, with rosy cheeks, thin brown curls, beautiful big doe eyes, with ten tiny little fingers and ten tiny little toes.

He has a breathing tube, which nearly sends Tony into a panic attack until Mary explains that it’s only there for a few more days, just in case. Now Tony is terrified that Peter will get sick and won’t be able to breathe, but Mary assures him that he’s been stable for a few days now and should be fine.

Tony marvels at the fact that this tiny human is only five days old. Only five days in the world, and already so much has happened. “He’s beautiful,” he whispers, gazing down into the incubator. Steve squeezes his shoulder.

Mary smiles. “You can hold him, if you want,” she says.

“Really?!” Tony gasps, suddenly filled with excitement and terror. “Is-is it safe?”

“Wouldn't lie to you, would I?” the woman laughs, and plucks Peter out of the incubator. “Here ya go.”

Tony’s hands are shaking as he accepts the baby, cradling the tiny body to his chest gingerly, horrified he might somehow hurt this precious child. “You got it,” Mary says.

Tony looks at Peer- really looks at him, taking in the pale freckles on the bridge on his nose, his cupid’s bow lips, his dainty little eyelashes and his adorable chocolate eyes. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice cracking. “Hi, Peter. Hiya, Pete. I-I’m your dad, baby. I’m Dad.” Tears are streaming down his face, and he sniffs loudly. Peter blinks a little and makes a curious cooing noise. “Sorry, honey. So sorry.” He’s starting to sob now, but he doesn’t want to let his baby go. Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders and grasps Peter’s hand between the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger.

“Hey Peter,” he says. He’s not great with emotions, especially with a stranger around, even though Mary seems like a wonderful woman. “Nice to meetcha, kiddo. I’m, um- I’m your other dad. I’m your Papa.” He’s crying now too. They’re both wondering how they ever could have lived before this sweet child came into their lives, and it’s barely been five minutes.

Tony laughs, sobs, and laughs again. “He’s perfect,” he says to Mary, who has been staring at a painting across the hall politely.

She grins. “Glad to hear it. I’d hate for this little guy to go into foster care. You two seem like you’re gonna be great dads.”

The rest of the hour feels like a blur for the two new parents, the only thing solid each other and their baby boy. They sign adoption papers numbly, Tony still cradling the baby in his arms. They get a quick instruction on how to change diapers, prepare bottles, deal with fevers, earaches, and teething, and then they’re in the car with Happy, Peter strapped into a carseat, finally going home.

They haven’t had time to set up a nursery, really, they haven’t had time for anything. Happy buys them a bassinet, a mobile, and a shit ton of baby food and baby formula.

They sit on the couch together, Peter once again in Tony’s arms, fast asleep. There are going to be a lot of hurdles ahead, a lot of crying, a lot of worrying, but above all, a lot of love.

“I love you so much, Peter,” Tony whispers.

“I love you too, Peter,” Steve whispers.

~~~~~

ST*RKERS DNI

~~~~~

Taglist: @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12  @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny @tinystark-blog @bittersweetbeneath

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know! (also, i think i missed a few people, and a few usernames have been changed, pop me a quick message so i can add you again!)

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

pascal

summary: spencer has had a few late nights at work, which ultimately meant neglecting y/n and their baby. after he returns home, he attempts to console his child, only to find out that his son doesn’t recognize him

word count: 1887                                                                                      reading time aprox: 8 mins

masterlist

My muscles were in complete repose, my eyes began to flutter against the sudden weight that forced them to shut, and reality around me began to dissipate. I drew in a long breath as I let myself succumb to the peaceful atmosphere of mine and Spencer’s bedroom, the moonlight that crept through the window enhancing the serene ambiance.  

I felt the soft fabric of the duvet on the skin of my legs, pulling it over the entirety of my body as I drifted away into a well deserved slumber. Unfortunately, those plans were unmatched to the wails of my crying son in the nursery next to the bedroom. 

I groaned, clutching my head while disdainfully throwing myself up from the bed and dragging myself to where my son laid in distress. Walking into the quaint, but pastel colored room, my eyes landed on the clock above the cradle. Exhaustion infiltrated my every move and the fact that the clock read 2:48 am made the occasion less desirable. 

“Hey Pascal, hey buddy” I cooed, picking up the small infant that permeated the room with his blaring cries. It was Spencer’s idea to name him after his favorite French mathematician. At first, Spencer was definite on naming the baby Schrodinger after the Austrian physicist, which was followed by the explanation of Schrodinger’s cat and how that unveiled the misconceptions on Copenhagen’s theory of physics. Fortunately for me and the hospital, I was too busy in labor to retaliate by throwing him out of the hospital window for interrupting the birth of our first child with physics history. After a while of deliberation, we both agreed on the name Pascal.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, mommy’s got you” I reassured, laying him on my chest as I bounced on the heels of my feet while swaying side to side. I hummed the tune of Mozart’s Sonata No. 16, the melody subduing the child’s relentless howls as I placed him back into the cradle. I refolded the blanket that swaddled Pascal, tucking in any stray pieces that his tiny feet could slip out of. Finally, I walked over to a music box that rested on top of the baby’s dresser, winding it to play throughout the remainder of the night to encourage the baby’s slumber. 

I wish I could be in the same circumstances as Pascal, considering he had a means of going back to sleep. My preferred method was, yet again, staying late at the FBI headquarters in order to assist in a BAU case. 

It felt like the same night had been replaying over and over again for the past 2 weeks. I’d get up to soothe the baby, fall back asleep on a lonesome bed, then wake up to a man that would hurry back to work the second his eyes opened. Me and Spencer were becoming estranged, although my concern primarily derived from the possibility of our son not even recognizing his father. 

I stumbled back to my room, practically dragging my feet as I tediously made my way back to the comforting sensation of the bed. My entire body screamed for sedation, begging for rest, yet my mind raced with troublesome thoughts about my relationship with Spencer. 

My eyes shifted downwards to the emerald ring that Spencer had given me when he proposed. It was the same ring that his mother and grandmother had worn when they were ought to be betrothed. I slouched on the side of the bed, sliding the ring off of my finger and into the drawer of the nightstand and finally attempted to regain the will of maintaining a decent sleep schedule. 

Though with my luck, that was yet to happen due to a loud bang that engulfed the apartment, followed by a string of curse words from Spencer’s mouth. With the inclination to investigate battling against my debilitation. I hauled my entire body up off the bed once again to meet Spencer in the living room, where I was met with the view of a lanky boy clutching onto several books that were scattered on the wood floors. If I weren’t in an irritated disposition, I would’ve laughed at the scene displayed in front of me, instead I mustered up a small ‘welcome home’ as I squinted at him. 

“Hey Y/N, why are you still up?” He whispered, straddling the books he carried on his knee. 

I sighed, wiping the wrinkles off of my forehead. “I-I don’t know, Pascal woke up and I was, yeah- I was just trying to sleep, but he started crying” I explained, stumbling over my words as the fatigue clearly impeded my cognitive ability. 

“I’m sorry to hear that Y/N” He walked over to the table next to the door and placed the books back to where they were previously before heading over to the kitchen. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, love?” He suggested, reaching over the counter for the cappuccino machine. 

“You’re staying up?” I inquired, ignoring his proposal completely. He sifted through the cabinets to find his favorite Star Trek mug for his coffee, but struggled to locate it. “-third cabinet to the left” I interjected, putting him out of his misery. 

He nodded in gratitude, flashing me a tight lipped smile. “Yeah, I just have to finish the paperwork for some case files” He elaborated casually. 

I stood over the living room couch, setting myself down on the edge of the cushions as I observed Spencer’s movements. “Are you coming to bed Spence?” I crossed arms, resting my eyes while I continued to feebly converse with him. 

“Uhhhhh-” He prolonged his speech, deliberating on how he was going to answer the double edged question. “It’s a really long case Y/N, I’ll try to be in bed as soon as possible” He confessed, watching the steam rise from the coffee pot, indicating that his brew was almost done. 

“Okay” I replied monotonously, not having the energy to negotiate with Spencer’s unhealthy work habits. “Do you mind at least checking on the baby next time he gets fussy?” I rubbed the temples of my forehead, feeling a migraine begin to ensue. 

“Y/N I don’t think I can, I just have a lot to go over and Hotch is really on me for-” 

“Spencer, I understand it’s been a long night for me too” I gripped onto the throw pillows below me as my migraine intensified. “I just- my head’s kind hurting and I just need you to check up on Pascal once and in a wh-” 

“Y/N-” He began, pouring copious amounts of creamer into his cup of coffee. “I just need this night alone Y/N, and I really don’t think it’s a lot to ask” He justified, leaning on the counter behind him as he sipped on beverage. 

Frustration battled with the almost unbearable pounding in my head, grateful for the dimly lit room that blessed my sensitive eyes. “But Spencer, you’re barely here at home and Pascal needs his da-” 

“Yes, but his dad is out in the world, ridding it of all the bad guys that can cause harm to him” Spencer argued, an impatient tone evident behind his words. “Don’t I get any credit for that?” 

“Spencer, I’m not saying that-”

“Y/N I’m just having a long night, I need to spend it alone-” 

“Oh, just like me and Pascal do every night” I spat, gesturing to the nursery across the hall. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He interrogated, slamming his mug onto the coffee, but not forceful enough to spill the beverage. 

“Spencer, I’m really not trying to fight” I emphasized, forcing my eyes shut as I felt my head pulse. 

“Well, it seems like you are” Spencer scoffed, peering at me with an incredulous expression. “At least I’m supporting this household, what are you attributing to it?” He mocked, his voice elevating in volume. 

“Spencer, can we not get into that, I’m just saying that I wished you spent more time with Pascal” I admitted, my voice fading out into the darkness as I tried to limit my speech.

“Y/N, don’t you understand that-” 

“YES! I understand fully” I impulsively yelled in annoyance, regretting it afterwards with the thought of the baby in my conscience. 

Unfortunately the sound of my voice had permeated the poor child’s ears, sending him into a panicked frenzy of deafening cries. I groaned in exasperation, running my hands over my face in exhaustion as the crying fit ensued in the middle a heated argument. 

“God! See what you did now” Spencer complained, shaking his head as he made long strides towards the nursery. 

“Spence- I don’t think you want to do that” I warned, running along after him. “Spence he hasn’t seen you in a long time, I don’t think he’ll recog-” 

“He’s my son Y/N, I think he’ll recognize me” He jeered, mocking my apprehension. He entered into the small room with soft steps, reaching into the cradle with an amiable countenance before coddling the small human against his shoulders. Opposite to Spencer’s intentions, Pascal began to fuss in Spencer’s hold. He kicked and emitted loud screams, resisting against the foreign arms that were around him. 

“Spence-” I whispered, although my attempt to gain his attention fell through as he continued to care for Pascal. 

“Hey, it’s okay daddy’s he- hey no it’s- Pascal-” Spencer sputtered out, struggling against the infant writhing around on his shoulder. The lines were now apparent on Spencer’s forehead, indicating his exponentially growing frustration. 

“Spence, give him to me. I can-” I interjected, but was ultimately shut down by Spencer’s stubbornness. 

“I got this Y/N” He stated with determination. 

Although even with all his motivation and determination to sedate the small child, the results were dissatisfactory. “Come Pascal- come on buddy” Spencer cooed, now bouncing him side to side. Pascal’s cries engulfed the entire room, giving me a heart wrenching feeling due to my motherly instinct. 

A small part of me pitied Spencer’s attempts at reconnecting with his child as he found the results fruitless. By this point, his methods were futile; Pascal’s behavior becoming increasingly volatile. Instinctively I rushed over to Spencer, picking up Pascal in my arms. 

Without a second passing by, the infant had calmed down instantaneous. I bounced him side to side, similar to Spencer’s actions, and snuggled him into my chest. 

For a moment I caught Spencer’s gaze and what I saw was more than heartbreaking to witness. He looked at me and Pascal with a defeated look, but it wasn’t any ordinary defeated look, he seemed to be in utter despair. 

My frustration at him dissipated and was replaced by empathy as his eyes began to water in chagrin. Setting Pascal back into the cradle after he fell back asleep, I turned to face Spencer with a lamentable expression; only to find him gazing at his hands with indignation. 

“Spence” I whispered gently. Although without a second thought, he had rushed out of the room, grabbed his belongings, and left the apartment. 

I closed my eyes in disquietude, reminded of the migraine I had previously. I waddled back into the bedroom to cuddle into the bed sheets as I let my mind roam the forlorn thoughts that swirled around my head.

part 2

-

tag list: @rexorangecouny

part 2 tmrw

[everybody-loves-purdy]

Heck it I mentioned Berrynose so it’s Berrynose time. Here comes my perfect terrible egotistical boy I love my absolute worst man I could find that isn’t just straight up evil. Also Jayfeather is here.

So him and Jayfeather become surprisingly close because I always thought they were kinda similar in a way but also a bit opposite let me explain. I don’t know if this is headcanon-y but from the way everyone thinks about and talks about Berrynose I always got the impression that while he is a social guy no one is really friends with him? He’s like the guy in the friend group that no one is actually friends with outside the group and doesn’t get invited out with everyone else cuz he’s kind of a pain in the butt. He’s egotistical and bossy and overly self-confident so while people are ‘friendly’ with him they’re not actually friends with him.

Jayfeather is sharp and from most characters first impressions of him seems a little off-putting and cold. That combined with the fact he’s a medicine cat, at this point in the canon story the sole one for a while, just kinda puts a wedge between him and his clan mates. But despite this Jayfeather actually seems to have good friends and does seem generally well regarded amongst his clanmates. Both their personalities are off putting but Jayfeather was still able to build bonds, and I think it’s because Jayfeather still comes off as well meaning. What I mean is that he’s grumpy and short but when he’s harsh to a patient you can tell it’s because he cares about their well-being ultimately, like snapping at cats to stay still while applying something or chastising someone for not wanting to take whatever he’s giving them because it tastes bad. Whereas Berrynose being pompous comes off like he cares about himself above everyone else and believes he’s better than them, so it drives people away instead. Similar fronts with opposite effects basically.

I like the idea of Berrynose being a little envious of Jayfeather as a result, but after the great battle that doesn’t really matter anymore. Mostly he can relate to his grief, they both had large families they were close to in particular their litter mates who they lost. Jayfeather has more guilt however, as he’d been on bad terms with part of his family until basically right before they all died which leaves a lot of not really resolved issues and the regret of wasted time. And now he’s the sole medicine cat again except he doesn’t even retain a connection to Starclan (what good that connection did him when most of everyone he cared about it dead). So at first he’s more isolated than ever before, he does his job best he can but he’s kind of on autopilot unusually quiet even for him.

I want Berrynose to be the one to extend a paw to him just dropping any envy immediately and trying to connect with him, they both really need it in the circumstance and most the other adult cats are too busy regrouping too just pay any sort of personal attention to others yet. He also is the one that’s there for Morningkit and the apprentices during this time as well, trying to keep their spirits up. Like the other person I like the idea of Berrynose having inherited some parentalness from Daisy and the situation kinda brings it out of him, but not really in a paternal way. He’s less of the apprentices and Morningkit’s dad and more like your cool but overprotective older brother, and he’s a couple years older but he’ll humour your kid stuff and take you out on day trips and buy you snacks and demands to know who upset you when you’re sad. He takes care of the emotional side of the situation and while he’s still got some of his egotistical self the front has slipped a lot and he’s better for it.

I have a bit more about Berrynose along with Jayfeather in particular, but this is already too long and I am very sorry I’m just an enjoyer of terrible but not villainous men. Also I love the name Earthclan I am swaddling it in a blanket and cradling it to my chest like a baby, thank you so much for it you are so smart. Sorry these keep getting longer and longer, I think this will probably be the biggest one though I just have many Berrynose thoughts.

This is so good I love this so much. No need to apologise, send more whenever you want I am loving this au

[hanniiesuckle17]

Stray Kids Reaction: S/o Having A Big Baby Bump

A/n: this is such a cute request! I hope this is what you wanted! I wanted to try something a lil different since it's more of a reaction than a scenario🥰❤❤❤❤❤

Requested by: @unvrsecosmoss 

Chan:

HAPPY BOI

the second your belly gets big he gets so excited 

like bouncing up and down off the walls excited

“Chris calm down”

“BUT LOOK ITS SO CUTE OUR LITTLOE BOY OR HGIRL IS IN THERE ASLAFJDSFMDVLSOJFW”

“How do you even speak like that?”

like his inner dad immediately comes out

he probably starts reading and memorizing more parenting books

you woke up like a month before the due date and Chris had literally swaddled you

.......in a blanket.....

like a baby

granted....it was the best night sleep you had in a while but...still

overall he is just so excited to become a dad when he sees your big baby bump

although the boys are very done with him giving them pureed food during lunch breaks

this man is so ready to be a father

he loves you baby bump so much

he really likes to sleep behind you so he can have a hand on your stomach so in the middle of the night he can feel his son or daughter kick

Minho:

probably wakes up one morning and is like:

“.......your stomach is huge.....”

“Yeah its been like that for a couple months.”

the cats have most definitely sat ontop of your belly 

he finds it so cute

he took like a billion pictures of it

ngl though he is super obsessed with your belly

like he loves watching you cook and coming up and putting his hands on your belly

if you ask him nicely he might even give you a back rub but only if you let the cats sit on your belly again

minho has been pretty chill throughout the entire pregnancy

even when you had all those weird cravings he will wait until you walk out of the room to gag at the combination of food you are eating

“Y/n stay still!!!”

“Minho this cat is digging its nails into your future daughter!”

“.............the cats name is Soongi.”

“Geez. Sorry.”

“Now hold still. Daddy wants a picture of his baby and his baby mama”

Changbin:

THIS MAN

THE HAPPIEST MAN ON THE PLANETTT

the second

no

the MILLISECOND this man notices your baby bump gets bigger he is all over your tummy

this man will not stop touching you

he loves seeing how big your bump is

when he is bored he likes to take your eyeliner and draw a face on your belly

he calls it Mr.Bumpy

they talk about future plans for your baby and ngl.....its pretty cute

“Mr.Bumpy should we paint the nursery yellow or white?”

“You’re right Mr. Bumpy. That’s exactly what I thought. 

“Binnie you’ve been talking to my belly for like an hour and I’m hungry.”

 but he loves your belly 

he thinks you look super cute the bigger you belly gets

until he accidentally pisses you off during one of your mood swings

then you are scarier the grim reaper himself

“SEO LEWIS CHANGBIN YOU GET YOUR BUTT BACK HERE!” 

“I didn’t mean to !!!1 I’m sorry babbyyyyyy!”

Hyunjin:

This man is so 

WHIPPED

like he was whipped for you before you got pregnant but like now that your baby bump is getting bigger is more whipped than you thought possible

(y’all hyunjin be simpin)

but like for real

you ask this man to do anything and I mean anything and he will do it

“HYunjin!!!”

“what? yes? are you okay? what can I do? should I run to the store? Ill get pizza on the way back! or noodles? I don’t know. what about pickles! You liked those yesterday!” 

“.....can you get the tea kettle down for me?”

“oh....yeah of course baby!”

literally will do anything you ask him 

he just loves seeing you with your big baby bump

“hyunjin will you do aegyo for me? pretty please?????”

“........no......”

*points to baby bump*

aegyo storm for the next two hours just to make you smile

literally loves taking pictures with you and your big bump and always brags about it when he shows someone his lock screen

Jisung:

like hyunjin he is WHIPPED

will let you literally do anything to him

he doesn't do skincare but like you made him to a whole 14 step routine one day and he sat through the whole gosh darn thing because he loved seeing you with you big bump

the second you tummy gets really big he starts talking to his son or daughter

its the cutest thing

you swear that the baby kicks every time they hear his voice

“baby can I braid your hair?”

“.........can I talk to the baby.....”

“sure!”

“YES!” *fist pumps*

is definitely the type that is you have a big bump around Halloween to convince you to wear a baby bump related couple costume if you are going to a party or something

needless to say to the skz Halloween party you went as mike and sully with your belly being mike

he was very happy

“Ji! People keep looking at my tummy!”

“I KNOW ITS SO CUTE I CANT FUNCTION!”

he also probably has minor freakouts because your numb getting bigger means one day closer to him being a father so pre parental panic attacks come more often

Felix:

this weirdo

is obsessed with your big tummy in the weirdest way

but also like low-key the sweetest

when you are sitting next to each other on the couch he uses your belly as like a second table 

he has also used your belly as a pillow sometimes (with your permission ofc)

again another man that is available for your every need\

Felix is the king of helping you roll out of bed because you balance is thrown off

also he makes these incredible meals out of your weird cravings (we know he has been quite the little chef and baker recently)

“Felix omg how did you turn pickles, hot sauce, and peanut butter into this?”

“I have no clue myself. I think I blacked out and Gordon Ramsay took over”

also one of the ones who likes talking to your baby bump

he is constantly having his hand on your belly

“Felix you have to go to rehearsal”

“BUT WHAT IF IT  K I C K S ?????//?”

he just loves looking and touching your big bump it makes him smile feeling his little boy or girl 

(probably also a huge advocate for baby bump Halloween costumes)

Seungmin:

the MOST CARING BOI  E V E R

seeing your big baby bump makes his caring side come out 

“baby are you using the cream the doctor gave us?” 

“yes seungmin”

“what about the vitamins”

“yes seungmin”

“does this shirt match my jacket”

“yes seungmin”

*pushing him out the door so he can get to practice only three hours later than he was supposed to*

you can pretty much guilt him into doing anything you want by just pointing to your belly and reminding him he got you into this situation for nine months.

“you wanna watch a movie and do face masks with me?”

“eh not really”

*points to stomach* “baby bump.”

“clay or sheet?”

but while he doesn't say that he loves your bump he really likes seeing it

especially when you are just kind of lounging around the house in sweats and a baggy t-shirt that is not as baggy as it used to be

seungmin also really loves when you hold hands with him and the rest your hands on your tummy

Jeongin:

can someone tell me the full link to this video omg too cute ^^

this poor baby

seeing your big tummy just like a constant lovely reminder that he will be a father in a couple of months

he loves how cute you look with your big tummy

but eventually it leads him to a freakout

“y/n we haven't painted a nursery yet!!!”

“jeongin....honey we have two months left. its okay”

“y/n I don’t know how to change a diaper”

“innie you don’t have to-......yeah you should get on that baby”

*runs to watch 8347697 videos on how to change a diaper and falls through a yt baby funnel*

the minute your baby bump starts to show he goes into overdrive

he started packing your hospital bags when you were 4 months in

“innie I don't need......a.....what is this??”

“its a pregnancy pillow.”

“innie its bigger than me how are you fitting it in the bag”

but he loves your bump

probably another boy who finds the bump costumes cute but its most likely your idea

he most definitely has asked chan on how to father lessons 

seungmin probably also gave him one of those parenting for dummies books but he actually read it at night before he sleeps (omg too cute)

Requests are open my lovelies!

Masterlist