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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Summary: Will's birthday party brings back some familiar faces and gives Eddie the perfect opportunity to make amends with Corroded Coffin, but an unexpected interruption might have him hurtling towards his old ways.

Warnings: some dirty talk (18+ only just in case), drinking/drunkenness (everyone is over 21), pregnancy and labor complications, mentions of past bullying

WC: 8.2k

Chapter 14/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special shoutout to @storiesbyrhi and @corroded-hellfire for helping with the fluffy sections and making this piece strong.

Afternoons at Hawkins Preschool are predictable: storytime on the carpet is followed by the kids’ pack-up routine, and once all belongings are shoved into their proper backpacks, they file out the door to go home.

Predictable is good. It’s safe. And it certainly doesn’t include a fire drill half an hour before dismissal.

Herding nine children through the bustling hallways and trying to ensure no one is left behind is overwhelming enough. Factor in the ear-splitting alarm and the surge of adrenaline pulsing through your students once they re-enter your classroom, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for chaos.

Instead of fighting a losing battle to keep the kids calm and quiet, you’d opted to plunk them down with myriad art supplies and called it a day.

Now, after the last student had been picked up, you and Will are left cleaning the mess they’d made. Broken crayons are scattered across the tabletops, there’s Play-Doh of various colors stuck to the floor, and gold glitter—when did you even acquire glitter?—dusts every surface.

“Seriously…who thought that that timing was a good idea?” Will grumbles, tossing a Crayola stub into the crayon basket. He adopts a nasal, mocking tone. “‘What would help out our teachers? Oh, I know—let’s interrupt their dismissal routines!’”

You laugh despite your own exhaustion. Somehow, you’ll have to muster up the energy to tutor Harris tonight.

Will reaches into the cupboard to grab his car keys, turning back around with a smile that he only offers you when he needs something. “Could I ask you for a little favor?”

There it is. “How little?” You cock one brow as you clip a stack of papers together.

“Eensy weensy. Miniscule. Microscopic–”

“The more you say it, the less I believe you.”

“Okay, okay,” Will acquiesces, twirling his keyring around his forefinger. “So, for my birthday thing on Saturday…a bunch of my childhood friends are gonna be there. Mike, Dustin, Suzie, Lucas, Max, Jane…” he lists them, ticking off each name on his fingers. “Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to Eddie about a Corroded Coffin reunion? I know they’re on a hiatus or whatever, but if anyone can convince him to play, it’s you.”

He’s not wrong; you’re the most likely person to get Eddie to do, well, anything. But asking him to make amends with Danny and Gareth and getting their band to play a gig three days from now seems like a mountainous task.

Will is staring at you, hands clasped together pleadingly. He’s too optimistic for his own good, and you can’t help but give in.

“Fine, I’ll try. But–hey, don’t get excited yet,” you warn when he pumps his fist in celebration. “‘Try’ is the key word here. I’m not making any promises.”

Your admonition goes unheeded as Will already considers it a victory. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You give him a small, tight-lipped wave as he dashes out the door. You and Eddie were already planning to attend the party; you’d spent part of last night scouring an art store for the perfect gift. And he and Jeff were back to being thick as thieves…maybe this could work.

“All right, Mr. Harris,” you say with a laugh, hurriedly placing tiles of various shapes in front of him. You need to make the most of the few minutes you have left until Eddie arrives. There’s a soft, familiar flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing your boyfriend, but you know you can’t compete with him for Harris’s attention. “Can you find the…trapezoid?” The inflection in your voice makes it sound like a much more exciting task than it really is, and you hope it’s enough to wrangle his focus.

Harris pokes out his tiny pink tongue as he assesses the tiles. He initially reaches for the blue rhombus, but as soon as his little finger touches it, he pulls away as though it’s on fire. “No…that’s not it.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to suppress your amusement as he thoughtfully taps his forefinger on his lips. A solid ten seconds pass before he triumphantly snatches up the correct tile. “Got it!” he beams, showing off the red trapezoid in his hand.

“You did! You got the trapezoid!” You hold up your hand for a high-five, frowning when he shakes his head. His overgrown curls brush along his eyebrows, and you wonder if it’s your place to suggest that Eddie take him for a haircut. “No high-five?”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, now swiveling his whole body in defiance. “I want…tickles!” He holds his arms out, leaving his torso wide open.

Lips pursed in faux consideration, you lower your voice to a hushed whisper. “Hmm…I think that warrants a visit from the Tickle Monster!” You flex your fingers so they resemble claws; he instinctively scrunches up in anticipation, arms tucked into his stomach. You let out your silliest wicked cackle as your fingers dig mercilessly into his sides in pursuit of his most ticklish spots. Delighted peals of laughter emanate from his chest, and you don’t stop until the buzzer rings, signaling Eddie’s arrival.

Harris’s eyes get wide, mischief dancing behind his pupils. “Do you think the Tickle Monster should get Daddy?” he asks, keeping his voice low despite it only being the two of you.

“Oh, absolutely.” You buzz Eddie in while formulating the game plan aloud. “I’ll grab the pizza and you go on the attack. Once the food is secured, I’ll join you.” You stick out your pinky, and he wraps his own around it.

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His words turn your heart into a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven, ooey gooey and destined to crumble if handled too harshly. “I love you, too, Harris,” you manage, blinking back embarrassing tears. The flood of emotion is absurd; he probably tells his stuffed animals that he loves them with the same fervor, but you can’t deny the adoration with which he looks at you.

He flings his arms around you in a hug, squeezing tight. Face pressed to your ribs, his words are muffled but still audible when he says, “I don’t know why Daddy says it’s hard to say ‘I love you.’”

He doesn’t have time to further elaborate before Eddie’s knocking on the door. “Special delivery for my two favorite people!” Your heart beats faster with the knowledge that he’s on the other side, that you’ll be able to sneak in a kiss or two.

You and Harris share devious grins, the little boy emulating your monster-esque stance from earlier. He creeps behind you on his tiptoes, and bites back a giggle when you slowly open the door, counting down from three under your breath.

“Hi–whoa!” Eddie stumbles back as Harris barrels into him, little fingers dancing across his lower stomach. You quickly snatch the pizza box from Eddie’s grasp and place it on the table before darting back to where his son has ambushed him. You start on his bicep and let your nails travel upwards until they reach the crook of his neck.

“I’m under attack!” Eddie yelps, twitching this way and that way in a meager attempt to protect himself. “I bring you pizza and this is how I’m repaid?” He easily scoops Harris into his arms, flinging him over his shoulder. Harris lets out an exhilarated squeal, carelessly kicking his sock-clad feet into his dad’s chest. “Jesus, little dude. You’re getting too strong.” Wincing slightly from the pinch in his back as he places the boy on the floor, he gives his tush a little pat and tells him to wash up for dinner, reminding him to use soap and water.

As soon as Harris scampers off into the bathroom, Eddie’s grabbing you by the belt loops of the wide-leg jeans you’d changed into when you got home. One hand slides around your waist and the other finds purchase on your cheek as he kisses you deeply, keeping a listening ear out for the telltale pitter-patter of Harris returning.

“Missed you,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you shiver at the intimacy this closeness brings.

You laugh quietly, biting your lower lip. “We just saw each other this morning,” you remind him, sneaking in another quick peck.

Eddie shakes his head. “Y’know what I mean. Can’t do this while you’re on the clock,” he counters, shifting his grip so both hands rest on either side of your face. You think he’s going to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today.” He rests the slope of his nose on yours, only snapping out of his trance at the sound of Harris rapidly switching the faucet on and off. “Let me go check on him before this place is underwater,” he whispers, giving your own ass a smack as he shuffles towards his mischievous son, a cheeky grin deepening his dimples.

You do your best to compose yourself, heat creeping up your neck and into your face. Busying yourself by placing pizza slices onto paper plates does little to distract you; it’s as though every neuron is dedicated to flooding your brain with Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The way the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheeks when he holds your face. The plush moisture of his lips when he kisses your forehead. The tickle of his brown tresses when he nuzzles into you and takes a deep breath, finally able to relax after a long day.

“Are you expecting a guest?” Eddie pipes up from the kitchen entrance. A perplexed frown overtakes your lips until he gestures to what you’ve laid out in front of you: four slices of pizza, two plain and two with olives, on four plates.

Your vision gets a bit fuzzy with tears when you realize what you’ve done. “No, it’s, um…” Nostrils flare as you huff out a short puff of air, hot under your nose. “Force of habit, sorry.” You’ve been so diligent about only serving three slices, but your preoccupation with his touch had your mind drifting from the task at hand.

It takes him a moment to process what you mean, but when he does, his face falls. It was for Grandma. “It’s okay,” he says, cringing as the words leave his mouth. Because it’s not okay that you’re sad; it’s normal, but frustration still tugs at his heart that he can’t take it away.

It feels wrong to return the slice to the box, so you leave it where it is. Eddie balances the three plates, sliding a plain one in front of Harris. The boy digs in hungrily, sauce caught on the edges of his smile.

“How was work?” you ask Eddie, grabbing a napkin from the pile in the center of the table. It’s a simple question, one that people ask each other all the time, but it stirs up a warmth inside of him. It’s you asking him, fostering a domestic routine that he could follow for the rest of his life. He’d walk through the door of your house, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat you two had picked out together. The kids–Harris, plus another Little Munson or two–would practically knock him down trying to greet him, and he’d engulf them in bear hugs before reaching out to you, kissing your forehead with a murmured, “there’s my girl.”

“Eds?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was good.” He stumbles over the words, trying to clear his head of the fantasy he’d conjured up. “Lotsa paperwork, y’know.” He takes a bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “What about you?”

You shrug, watching amusedly as Harris sinks his teeth into his slice and manages to pull all of the cheese off of the crust in one fell swoop. “The usual. The kids are learning about springtime, so Will decided to do a craft making flowers using finger paint and their handprints.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree with a weary grin, “but it was super cute, and Will is great with all that art stuff.” You excuse yourself from the table to get the water pitcher and three glasses, stopping when you remember your TA’s request. “He also asked me if a certain local metal band could play his birthday party on Saturday…?”

Eddie pauses mid-chew, nearly choking on his food. The cheese seems to congeal in his mouth when he tries to speak. “Um, I don’t know about that,” he finally manages, nervously massaging the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked to Danny or Gareth since…”

“I know, but you said you wanted to make things right with them,” you point out. “Maybe Jeff can test the waters? See if they’re ready to talk to you?”

“Maybe.” He averts his gaze, staring at the pizza slice without taking another bite.

You don’t want to further push the subject in Harris’s presence; instead, you turn your attention to the little boy. “Anything fun happen at school today, Har?”

“Nah,” he responds automatically just a half-second before his eyes light up. “Actually, yeah! My friend Charlie ate a bug at recess today!”

“Ew!” you exclaim, wrinkling your nose in pure disgust, as Eddie simultaneously poses the question, “what kind of bug?”

“An ant,” Harris answers his dad nonchalantly, as though ant-eating is an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it is, which is even more unsettling.

“Did you eat any bugs?” You’re afraid of his response; you’re unsure why you even asked in the first place.

To your relief, he shakes his head, a forlorn look on his cherubic face. “No, I couldn’t catch any in time.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” you mutter, turning back to your original task of getting something to drink. Though if the topic of bug consumption continues, you’ll need something much stronger than water.

Could Corroded Coffin play again?

It’s a thought that consumes Eddie for the entirety of his drive home, barely able to listen to Harris yammering about how there’s a coin in his jacket pocket that he doesn’t remember putting there. He throws a few lackluster mhms his son’s way and hopes he’s too distracted by the mystery coin to catch on.

We’re getting the band back together. Well, if Jake and Elwood Blues could swing it, maybe he could, too.

He waits until Harris is asleep to call Jeff. Getting his son to do his bedtime routine is easiest on Wednesday nights; he’s usually exhausted after a full day of school and tutoring. The one time that Eddie could use an excuse to procrastinate, Harris is out like a light.

Go to voicemail go to voicemail go to—

“‘Lo?”

Shit. “H-Hey, man,” Eddie begins awkwardly. “How’s it going? Viv doing okay?”

“We’re good. She’s ready to have this baby already. I reminded her, ‘just two more weeks,’ but then she told me to ‘fuck off’ until I’m the pregnant one, so…” he chuckles, more nervous than amused. “Everything good with you? Harris?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just, um,” he struggles to find the words, blurting out the first ones that enter his brain. They come out in a rush before he can stop them. “Do Gareth and Danny still hate me?”

Jeff takes a sharp breath in; his reaction does nothing to temper Eddie’s nerves. “They never hated you. They were just…disappointed? Jesus, I sound like my mom.”

Eddie misses his friend’s anecdote, too wrapped up in his head to fully pay attention. Somehow, disappointed stings worse than the prospect of being hated, especially when the people he’s let down are ones who used to idolize him. “Do you think there’s a way they could be…undisappointed in me? Like, enough to forgive me and maybe play a gig this weekend?”

There’s an extended pause, and then a one-word response: “Christ.”

Eddie can picture Jeff rubbing his eyes in exasperation, and he scrambles to explain. “Will Byers–you remember him? He was in Hellfire; had that weird bowl cut thing going on?”

“Mhm.”

“He’s having a birthday thing at the Hideout on Saturday and asked if we could play. Just a coupla songs.”

Jeff thinks for a moment; Eddie can hear him drumming his fingers on a nearby surface.

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night around…6?” he ventures. “I’ll invite the guys and we can…I dunno, figure something out.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.” He’s about to hang up when he remembers to ask, “Can I bring Harris?”

“Of course.”

“Har, slow down!” Eddie’s barely unbuckled his son’s car seat before Harris has wriggled out of the sedan, bolting straight for Jeff’s door.

“But I haven’t seen Uncle Danny and Uncle Gareth in forever!” he laments, reaching the house far faster than Eddie. He stands on tiptoes and rings the doorbell like a madman, forefinger jamming into the button at warp speed. “Uncle Jeff! It’s me!”

Jeff opens the door with a huge smile. “Mini Munson!” He scoops the boy up into a hug. “What’s new with you, little dude?”

“I got a wiggly tooth!” Harris exclaims, jutting out his jaw and pressing his tongue against the front center of his mouth. Sure enough, the baby tooth moves slightly forward, and he giggles. “Daddy says the Tooth Fairy’s gonna come and leave me a dollar,” he matter-of-factly reports. He peeks his head over Jeff’s shoulder, squealing and squirming out of his grip when he spots the two men sitting on the couch. He flings himself onto the sofa and plunks himself down into Gareth’s lap. “Hi!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Gareth chirps. “You’re getting so big.”

“‘M five now. I had a birthday party because I turned five.” He splays out his palm to offer five fingers.

“Did your friends go?”

“Yup!” Harris beams at the memory. “An’ Daddy an’ Grampa Wayne an’ Ms. Sweetheart.”

Danny furrows his brows. “Who’s Ms. Sweetheart?”

“She’s my almost-mommy. Daddy has to fall in love with her first.”

“Is that so?” Gareth smirks at Eddie. His teasing look is the first crack in the wall that has separated the men for the last six months, and though Eddie is thoroughly embarrassed, it alleviates some of his anxiety.

“Uh, Har Bear, why don’t you go hang out with Auntie Viv while I talk with the guys?”

Viv holds out her left hand, looking utterly exhausted. Her right hand rests on her bump, eyes sending a telepathic message to Jeff that they have five minutes—ten minutes, if Harris behaves well—to come to a solution before she needs a break.

Silence filters into the room as Eddie fumbles to address the mess he’s made. If Danny and Gareth are here, they’re at least willing to listen to him, which is honestly farther than he’d assumed he’d get.

He remembers what Harris said about apologizing; technically, what you’d taught him about apologizing: the act of saying sorry, not merely implying it, makes a world of difference.

“I was an asshole,” he starts. It’s not his most eloquent statement, but it certainly gets the point across. “Not just that night at the Hideout, or at our last practice. I was an asshole for a long time before that. And…I’m sorry.” It feels good to say it; it feels even better that they’re nodding, seeming to believe him. “You guys didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Of the rest of the band, Gareth is the one to speak first. “I guess I’m just wondering, why? Why be an asshole to us? We’ve always been there for you.”

“I know.” Eddie fiddles with a thread hanging from his t-shirt, pulling on it until it snaps off. He shoves it in his jeans pocket, not wanting to mess up Jeff and Viv’s place. “Honestly…I’m not sure, but I think it’s because you guys are everything I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asks, tone heavy with disbelief.

“In high school, I was the one you looked up to. The person you wanted to be like. And then I had a kid with some random chick I thought I knew but barely did, gave up my dreams of being a musician, and started selling weed again just to scrape by. And here you guys are. Jeff,” he motions to the friend leaning against the sofa’s arm, “you have a baby on the way with the love of your life. And all of you have goddamn college degrees and jobs that you don’t despise and don’t require you to hide from the law.” He shoves his ringed fingers into his jacket pockets, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “And I was nothing.”

Gareth scratches at the upholstery with one finger, absorbing everything he’s just heard. “You know we never stopped looking up to you, right?” He gives a short laugh when Eddie’s eyes widen. “Yeah, man. Leaving Chicago so you could take care of Harris? Putting your kid before yourself? That’s pretty badass.”

Danny nods. “Ed, if there’s someone here to look up to, it’s you.” Both he and Eddie visibly relax. Shoulders drop from their hunched positions, thin lips unfurling into smiles. “No matter what you went through, you never gave up. Even if it almost killed us,” he adds wryly, referring to all of the sleep-deprived Corroded Coffin practices fueled by black coffee and pure adrenaline.

“No fancy diploma can teach us how to stand up for ourselves, or how not to take shit from people, or how to be a dad,” Jeff pipes up from where he’s standing. “We learn from you, man.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at the compliments, unsure how to accept them. He’d walked in expecting to have to beg for forgiveness, and they were the ones reassuring him. It’s now or never, and he forges ahead while he still has the courage. “Do you…can we get the band back together?” Can we be friends again is the underlying plea, but it’s too vulnerable a statement to make. “We’ll keep it low-key, I promise. Work, family, anything comes up…we can cancel or reschedule. And I won’t be a dick about it.”

The three other men look at one another, nod and turn back to Eddie with smart grins and mischievous glimmers in their eyes.

“On one condition.” Gareth crosses his arms over his chest, smirking as he sinks back against the couch. “You tell us all about this ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’”

The Hideout, normally dingy and coated in a film of sticky ale, has been decked out for Will’s birthday party. Helium-filled balloons in every color bob along the low ceiling, vibrating with the thumping bass of the old sound system. Crepe paper streamers–purple, Will’s favorite color–sway gently with the air that rushes in from opening the door. This has to be Marshall’s handiwork, and it brings a smile to your face. If anyone deserves a partner who fawns over him, it’s Will.

You spot him surrounded by a group of people as the bartender slides a row of tequila shots across the bar and into their eager hands. While they’re distracted by alcohol, you take the opportunity to dart towards the backstage area.

Eddie’s there, digging around for his lucky pick. You wrap your arms around his waist, fingers pressed into the soft dough of his tummy.

“Hey, Rockstar,” you murmur against his neck, kissing just below his earlobe.

He turns around, jaw dropping when he sees you in a maroon slip dress. The heels on your feet have you two inches taller than usual, and he has to shift where his gaze normally lands to meet your eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Eddie practically growls, kissing you deeply. One hand presses against the small of your back while the other grabs the plush of your ass, kneading it in his palm. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy. How’m I gonna go out there and play with you looking like that?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” You giggle when he offers up a bemused smile. “If you do a good job tonight, I’ll give you a reward.” You let your fingertips graze over the metal teeth of his pants zipper, feeling him twitch at your light touch.

“You’re dangerous,” he winks, delivering another kiss; this time, he gives your lower lip a little bite when he pulls away. His kohl-rimmed eyes draw you in just as they did that first night you’d met, but now you dive into them without the fear of drowning.

A tactful “ahem” from the now-open doorway startles both you and Eddie, having been floating in an embrace that’s equal parts comfort and desire.

“Sorry to interrupt the lovefest, but we’re on in five,” a man’s voice calls from the doorway. You turn around to see the other three Corroded Coffin members standing there, amusement evident in their expressions.

“You must be Ms. Sweetheart,” one of the guys, soft curls resting atop his head, pipes up. His tone is teasing, but not mocking; the nickname is said with admiration and affection. “I’m Gareth, by the way.”

“Danny,” the one with tight, wiry curls offers, giving a small wave.

Jeff just shrugs. “You know me.”

Eddie grabs his guitar, slinging the strap across his body. His pants’ fly is tight, and he wills himself to calm down before it’s time to perform. He hasn’t worried about being hard on stage since he was nineteen, but thoughts of your bodies perfectly melding into each other has him subtly adjusting himself as he turns his back to his bandmates.

“See ya out there, baby,” he says before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The brief contact between you has you biting your tongue in self-beration for suggesting that the band play tonight. All you want is to dance with him, allowing the steady flow of alcohol to dull your inhibitions as you pull him impossibly close. Not caring who sees or what they think.

But this night isn’t about you or Eddie. It’s about Will, your TA-turned-friend who has kept you sane amidst your adorably chaotic students and their decidedly less adorable and more chaotic parents. He wanted Corroded Coffin to play his party, and that’s the least you could do for him.

Will’s already teetering between tipsy and inebriated, breath tinged with the scent of tequila as he introduces you to his friends.

“This is my amazing boyfriend, Marshall.” He smacks a wet kiss to the man’s cheek. “And these are my friends from growing up: Dustin and Suzie, Lucas and Max, and Mike and Jane.” His face melts into a sappy grin as he leans on Marshall to hold him up. “You guys! We’re all in looooove!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before turning his attention back to you. “Can we get you something to drink?”

Will raises his empty glass. “I’ll take another–”

“Not you.”

You manage to sneak in a quick conversation with Max, Suzie, and Jane before Corroded Coffin starts their set. Max is finishing up her Masters in English literature at New York University, set to graduate in two months. Suzie programs for NASA, and though Florida is a far cry from her home state of Utah, she loves her job. And Jane is a social worker at a local adoption agency, the cause close to her heart, as she was adopted by Chief Hopper years ago.

“Damn,” you laugh, taking a small sip of your vodka soda. You’re having so much fun that you don’t even care that it’s been watered down. “You’re all such badasses!”

Your admiration of their collective girl power is cut short by the sound of Corroded Coffin taking the stage. It’s as though they’d never taken an extended break; just picked up right where they left off. You cheer so loudly that there’s a pinch in your throat, but you push past it. It’s more than applause. There’s so much tucked away in your yell: I’m proud of you; you’re a rockstar; you’re my person forever, if you’ll have me.

“Hello, Hawkins!” Eddie bellows into the mic. There’s no missing the grin on his face. He’s happy. He’s in his element. He’s where he belongs.

“No way!” Lucas exclaims, awestruck as he turns to Will.

“Dude, you got Corroded Coffin?” Mike mirrors his friend’s excitement. He slings an arm around Will’s shoulder and pulls him in for a side hug. “This is fuckin’ awesome!”

“The first song of the night goes out to our guest of honor, Will Byers!” Everyone hoots and hollers as Eddie plays the opening chords to The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go. Eddie told you he remembered that the song was one of Will’s favorites growing up; his older brother had gotten him into the band. Sure enough, Will’s bopping to the rhythm, singing every word, albeit quite off-key.

Corroded Coffin plays a few more songs from their usual setlist, nerves dissipating with each note, before Eddie speaks into the mic again.

“This next one is for my beautiful girlfriend,” he announces, eyes gazing into yours. “Baby, if my teachers looked like you, I actually would’ve gone to class.”

He nods at Gareth, who starts playing an incredibly complicated beat. As soon as you hear it, you feel your cheeks heat up. The rest of the guys join in on their own instruments, and Eddie oozes bravado as he sings.

“T-Teacher stop that screamin’ Teacher don’t you see Don’t wanna be no uptown fool.”

Max leans in to you and whisper-shouts, “I’ve known Eddie for years, and I’ve never seen him so…happy.”

Lucas overhears his girlfriend and adds his two cents. “That’s because we’ve never seen him in love.”

Warmth spreads all over your body, but it’s not from embarrassment. Allowing yourself to believe that Eddie loves you—is in love with you—opens a door you’d deadbolted until the time was right. You hadn’t wanted to rush things, but the jolt of exhilaration following Lucas’s statement means you can’t deny it any longer: you love Eddie Munson. You’re in love with Eddie Munson.

“Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad I'm hot for teacher I've got it bad, so bad I'm hot for teacher.”

Will takes the opportunity to twirl you around, and you laugh as you spin amongst new friends, your drink threatening to spill over the sides as he turns you faster.

“Hey! Thank you, by the way!” he shouts, probably a bit louder than he needs to.

“For what?”

“For getting Corroded Coffin to play!” He jerks a thumb towards the stage, stumbling a bit as he does. He’d managed to sneak another tequila shot when his boyfriend left him unattended to use the restroom, and it definitely shows. “And for, like, being there for me.”

You give him a hug, immediately understanding the full implication of his statement. “I’ll always have your back,” you promise, filled with the mingled buzzes of alcohol and belonging.

“I think of all the education that I've missed But then my homework was never quite like this!”

Eddie jumps off of the tiny stage and into the crowd of nine twenty-somethings, each at various levels of tipsiness, and reaches for you to pull you close to him. He’s sweating from constantly moving around and the stage lights, his fingers slick with perspiration as he laces them with yours. Jeff picks up the rhythm for the lead guitar while Eddie kisses you, soft and slow and sensual. He loses himself for a moment before hopping back up to join the rest of the band.

As Corroded Coffin wraps up their Van Halen cover and stops for a quick sip of water, there’s a small commotion behind the bar.

“Is there a Jeff Reynolds here?” the bartender calls out, phone receiver in hand.

Jeff gives a little wave, eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s me.”

“Someone named Jess on the line? Says your girl is in labor and you need to get to the hospital.”

“Holy shit!” Danny claps a hand to Jeff’s back and grins. “C’mon, man! Let’s get you outta here!”

Jeff freezes up; hands clammy as he grips the guitar’s neck. “Can you drive?” he asks Eddie.

Eddie recognizes the fear in his friend’s voice. The selfish part of him wants to refuse to take Jeff to Hawkins General. He could easily plant his feet on the stage and keep playing, claiming that ‘the show must go on.’

No, he silently chastises himself, Jeff needs me. He needs me and I’ll be damned if I let him down again.

“Of course,” Eddie says, trying to force a relaxed disposition. It doesn’t matter; Jeff is too overwhelmed to notice the obvious effort.

“Take my car,” you offer, keys already dangling from your fingertips. “Eds, I can take yours and pick up Harris from Wayne’s tomorrow.” It’s easier to swap rides than to uninstall and reinstall the carseat, so you’re perplexed when Eddie shakes his head.

Two words slip through his lips, soft but pronounced: “Need you.”

Dustin catches wind of the situation and insists on watching Harris until you and Eddie can come back home, claiming he needs to squeeze in as much uncle-nephew bonding time as possible before returning to Florida.

“Henderson, it’s late; don’t let him stay up,” Eddie warns as he tosses over his car keys.

Dustin tries catching them in one hand, but they hit the center of his palm and fall to the ground. “But the best part of being an uncle is breaking the rules!” he laughs as he scoops the keys off of the floor. “By the way, I’m not drunk; just a shit baseball player.” Still, Eddie’s sigh of relief is audible when Suzie plucks the keyring from Dustin’s hand.

With Harris taken care of, you turn your attention to your boyfriend. Eddie’s face is flushed pale, and you’re worried about him behind the wheel. “Want me to drive?”

He nods and grabs onto your hand as you lead the two men to your car. Eddie’s doing his best to keep Jeff calm, reminding him that the doctors and nurses have everything under control until he gets there.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Jeff murmurs, a disbelieving chuckle permeating the otherwise silent car. “Holy shit.”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. “It only gets crazier from here.”

The bright lights of the hospital’s waiting room are anything but soothing, especially compared to the dimly-lit bar you’d just left. You speak to the receptionist, an older woman with a tired smile and red-rouged cheeks, explaining the situation as she pages Jess while Jeff and Eddie take a seat.

Jeff’s voice is nearly impossible to hear despite the stillness of the room. “The baby was breech at Viv’s last appointment.” He clocks Eddie’s confusion and elaborates. “Feet first, instead of the head. If they didn’t get into the right position and the doctors can’t, I dunno, flip ‘em around? They’ll have to do a c-section.” Long overdue tears spill over his lash line, and he makes no attempt to swipe them away. “I just wanna fix it and I can’t.”

Helplessness. It’s a feeling Eddie knows all too well. He spins a ring around his finger, exhaling softly as he considers a response. He can’t say it’ll be alright, because he has no idea whether or not it will be. He and Jeff both know that.

“No matter what, I’m here for you.” Eddie’s gaze flits over to the receptionist’s desk, where Jess has now arrived and is waving her brother-in-law over. “You’re up.”

But Jeff remains in his chair, hands shoved under his thighs as though they’re glued to the seat. “I…I don’t know if I can do this. What if something happens to Viv or the baby? How can I…?” He doesn’t allow himself to complete the sentence, to finish the thought.

Instinctively, Eddie puts his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. He can feel them trembling slightly as his friend heaves another shaky breath. “Listen to me. You’re gonna do this. You’re gonna go in that room and watch your girl give birth to your baby. Because if you don’t, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your fuckin’ life.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “I know you’re scared, okay? I get it. And once your kid is safely here, we can talk about it. But right now, you need to pull it together and go be a goddamn dad.”

Jeff nods, finally acquiring the physical stability to stand. “Thank you,” he whispers, clearing his throat and wiping the wet stains from his cheeks. He starts towards Jess before turning back to Eddie. “Could you stay until the baby’s born? If you have to get home to Harris, I understand…”

There it is: his out. He can easily use his son as an excuse, despite the fact that Dustin and Suzie were perfectly capable of babysitting him. He can hightail it out of here and never look back. He can crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself for having to step foot in a godforsaken maternity ward again.

“Yeah. I can stay.”

Nearly an hour passes with Eddie’s head resting on your shoulder, relaying what Jeff told him. Identical knots form in your stomachs as the seriousness of the complications sets in. You don’t say a word as he speaks; you just try to shift without disturbing him. The cushion on the chair back, worn thin, digs into you uncomfortably, but you don’t dare move too much. His vulnerability is a deer that will scamper away at the slightest startle.

You think he’s fallen asleep until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, a muffled, “mine?” against your skin. You note his phrasing; it’s careful and unsure, a symptom of being in his own head for far too long.

“Of course I’m yours,” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his scalp. “What’s got you asking such silly questions?”

“I don’t like this.” It’s an answer and non-answer all in one.

“Being in a hospital?”

He shakes his head, frizzed curls tickling the crook of your neck. His forehead is sticky with cooled perspiration. “Waiting to see if the baby is okay.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the stomach, immediately hollowing you out. The last time he went through this, it was when Harris was being born. You can’t think of anything to say, so you just nuzzle in closer to him and exhale.

“Why do I feel like this?” Neither of you are sure if he’s asking you, himself, or the universe. “‘S not the same. Viv’s not using drugs; Jeff stuck around the whole time…”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not how this stuff works, y’know?” You adjust your position so you can look into his eyes. The whites are stained red with worry and exhaustion. “Your gig got interrupted, just like when Harris was born. And there's uncertainty now, too. It’s normal for these kinds of memories to get dredged up.” Your palm rests on his cheek, thumb gently stroking the skin as you ask, “can you try to get some sleep?”

“But what if Jeff needs—”

“I’ll wake you up if he needs you,” you reassure him, settling back into the chair. You lean your head against the wall; the heaviness in your eyelids battles the anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it seems as though sleep is winning.

Eddie’s hand finds your forearm, rubbing up and down the gooseflesh that has appeared courtesy of the air conditioning blasting through the building. Shrugging off his jacket and resting the leather fabric over your shoulders, he can relax once he’s reassured that you’re comfortable. He assumes his previous position, using your shoulder as a pillow and falling asleep gradually, body jostling itself awake from the unfamiliar sleeping arrangement. Eventually, you can hear his soft snores; for the first time tonight, he’s peaceful.

You could tell him now, a whisper under your breath that he’s unlikely to hear. I love you, Eddie. I’m in love with you. Your lips part in anticipation, but you snap them shut. You’re delirious and overwhelmed; Lucas’s throwaway comment about Eddie being in love is rattling around your brain. If you say it and Eddie hears you…

You keep it to yourself for now, letting your body rest while still supporting Eddie’s head. Tomorrow is a new day, with a new life brought into the world. Love—if that’s even what this is—will have to wait until then.

The soft pink of breaking daylight streams through the windows when Jeff wakes Eddie up six hours later, shaking him by the shoulders.

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes. When he registers where he is and the potential urgency of the situation, he sits up straight, head filling with fuzziness from the sudden movement. He wouldn’t call the evening restful, but he’d managed to doze off for longer than he’d expected.

“It’s a girl!” Jeff announces, beaming from ear to ear. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, bursting with enthusiasm and emotion.

As soon as Eddie’s vision clears, he’s on his feet and pulling his best friend in for a giant hug. When he steps back, he realizes that he and Jeff sport matching misty eyes. “Dude, you’re officially a dad now. You have a daughter!”

“I have a daughter,” Jeff repeats incredulously. His eyes cloud with tears, and he blinks them away as he peers over at the empty seat next to Eddie. “Did your lady go home?”

Eddie swivels around, so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized he was alone. She left. She left without me; she didn’t want to stick around and deal with–

“Did Viv have the baby?” Your excited voice penetrates through his intrusive thoughts as you stroll in from the hallway. The makeup around your eyes is smudged; you’d tried to wipe some of it off in the bathroom, but water and thin hospital paper towels are no substitute for makeup wipes. “Sorry, I had to pee.”

Eddie smiles at the sight of you, still wearing his jacket. He hopes his sigh of relief is concealed by Jeff’s exuberance. “A girl. Six pounds, ten ounces.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Wanna meet her?”

“Of course!” You and Eddie begin following him down the corridor. “Wait, is Viv feeling up to having visitors?” You’re mildly ashamed to admit that, in your eagerness, you’d forgotten about the baby being breech and the possible c-section.

Jeff nods. “I think my daughter’s gonna be a gymnast, ‘cause she’d flipped herself back around between the appointment and last night.”

There’s no masking Jeff’s pride when he says my daughter, and it makes Eddie want to hug him again. “That’s amazing,” he murmurs. There’s a small pang in his heart, a bead of resentment that Harris’s birth didn’t go so smoothly, but it’s unimportant right now. His best friend just became a father, and he refuses to let his own hang-ups take away from this moment.

“Hi,” you whisper when Jeff opens the door to room 1007. Viv is propped up against pillows, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been before. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the hours-old bundle in her arms. “How are you?”

“Sore,” she replies truthfully, brushing her forefinger against her baby’s closed fist, “but the epidural was a lifesaver.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, unaware that your words have Eddie’s heart skipping a beat at the idea of you bearing a little Munson. “Is it okay if I hold her?” You don’t want to intrude on the new mother’s bonding time, but your insides turn to mush when the baby opens her tiny lips and yawns.

Viv carefully places the newborn in your arms, and you gingerly adjust to support her head. Eddie swears that you holding a baby, in that dress, wearing his jacket, is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “Did Jeff tell you her name?” Viv asks, stifling a yawn. When you and Eddie both shake your heads, she smiles and glances at her partner.

He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. Eddie forces himself to tear his gaze from the way you smile and coo at the baby and look over at Jeff. “Her name is Nicolette,” he starts, “but that’s a big name for a little girl, so we figured we can call her Ettie, and she’ll kinda…share a nickname with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, convinced he heard incorrectly. “You…I’m her namesake?”

“Mhm,” Jeff confirms, the grin never leaving his face. What neither you nor Eddie know is that they had had a different name picked out, and had fully intended on using it until the first time Jeff held their daughter. It filled him with a feeling of wholeness, of being complete, and it strangely had him thinking of his best friend. Without Eddie taking him under his wing, he might not even be here to experience this.

It was only by chance that he had stumbled upon Hellfire Club during his freshman year. He was running from Billy Hargrove and his posse, who were determined to beat the hell out of him simply because they could, and had ducked into the drama room to protect himself. Eddie had taken one look at his face and immediately recognized the expression of fear and defeat from being incessantly bullied. “You know how to play Dungeons & Dragons?” he’d asked, and when Jeff had managed a nod, he’d pulled up a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

Being Eddie’s friend, being part of something, gave him a reason to keep going. To live. And in that instant, he vowed to teach his child to extend kindness toward any misfits who need a place to be themselves.

“What about Nicolette?” he’d asked Viv. “Ettie for short.”

You turn to Eddie now, continuing the steady rocking rhythm that keeps Baby Ettie calm. “What do you say, Mr. Namesake? Wanna hold her?”

There’s a brief flash of panic that floods through his veins; he hasn’t held a newborn since Harris. He’d always worried about dropping him or tripping and falling. Truth be told, he was terrified until his son could hold his own head up.

It’s similar, but not the same, he reminds himself, shuffling even closer to you so you can safely transition Ettie into his arms. She stirs slightly in her swaddle but doesn’t cry.

“Hey, little lady,” he says, a delicate smile dancing on his lips. “I’m your Uncle Eddie. The coolest uncle you’ll ever have, for the record.”

“Harris is gonna love her,” you add, heart swelling at the imagery of him cuddling up to his newest cousin.

“Babe?” Viv pipes up from the bed. “Can you grab me something to eat? ‘M starving.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jeff turns to Eddie. “Come with me? I think Viv needs to feed Ettie, anyway.”

Viv extends her arms and Eddie begrudgingly hands the baby to her. Ettie’s so adorable and small, and it makes him yearn for the days when Harris was that little. Maybe not the sleepless nights or the lack of head control, but the scent of baby powder, the toothless smiles, the way he would fall asleep in Eddie’s arms to whatever song happened to be on the radio. Harris Munson might have been the only infant to be soothed by Twisted Sister.

The two men make their way to the hospital cafeteria, sneakers squeaking along the freshly-waxed linoleum tiles.

“I, um, I’m really proud of the way you stepped up for Viv,” Eddie says, eyes trained on the floor. “You’re a great partner. I feel like I should be taking notes.”

Jeff laughs, shaking his head. “That's where my expertise ends. I have no idea how this whole fatherhood thing works.”

“Wanna hear a secret?” Eddie leans in, shifting his weight onto one foot. He doesn’t wait for his friend’s response to divulge, “none of us do. We’re just…” he waves his hand aimlessly, “…figuring it out as we go.” And making plenty of mistakes along the way, he silently adds.

“I don’t know how you did this alone,” Jeff puffs out an incredulous breath. “I mean, I know you had Wayne’s help…” he trails off, not needing to further elaborate on the missing parent.

“Yeah, me either, man. I’m just glad I’m not alone anymore.”

Jeff stops walking, turning to face him. There’s the unmistakable look of pride that manages to make itself prominent despite his evident exhaustion as he says, “You really want this with her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie chuckles. “It’s like, for the first time, I’m not just thinking about just me or just Harris. I’m thinking about us as a family.” The dinnertime conversations, the gentle ribbings, the tenderness that seamlessly weaves itself into vulnerable conversations.

“She’s good for you,” Jeff agrees. “And you love her.”

“I mean, I—”

“That was a statement, not a question. You love her.”

And in a single breath, Eddie lets go of the fear he’s been clutching to like a life preserver. The one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to say aloud because it makes it so real, so fucking real.

“I love her.”

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kakujis · 1 year

Text

do you love me?; 4

synopsis: they wake you up and ask if you love them. 1 2 3

ft + wc: mistuya, draken, chifuyu. 3k.

warnings: gn!reader, swearing, miscommunication, workaholic bfs, tipsy chifuyu, slightly spicy in drakens! not proofread! thats it LMAO

a/n: hi. it's been a while! i took a writing break and i'm not sure if this means my writer's block is over, but here's the fourth and probably final part of this series (this is a lie im probs gonna write more when s3 comes out LMFAO) anyways, similar themes for mitsuya and draken, while chifuyu's is extra fluffy. the extra fluff was added in for @fuyuluvr btw.

mitsuya takashi has been busy. more so than ever, you’ll find him buried in his work til the early morning hours. this happens every time he’s hit with inspiration for a new runway collection and you often wind up feeling neglected. but mitsuya will always find a way to sneak time with you in, even if it means playing model for a little bit.

his love comes out through his finger tips, when he’s laying the garment over you, light touches over your skin. it comes out in the way he silently works, looking you over every so often, smiling when he notices the way you furiously blush when he lingers for just too long.

but this time is a little different. his fatigue clear on him when he crashes into the bed, mumbling a sleepy “good night” to your “good morning.” it’s jarring, how separate the two of you feel in the shared space of your home.

mitsuya realizes something is wrong the first night you tell him you don’t want to model for him. “it was a long day… i’m just tired.” you had told him, hesitating before you placed a kiss on his forehead. you left shortly afterwards, leaving mitsuya in his office.

the second night you barely touched your dinner, pushing your food around on the plate absentmindedly. when he asked if something was wrong, you told him that you weren’t hungry with a strained smile on your face. “don’t worry about me.”

the final piece locks into place the night you push him away from you when he tries to sneak a kiss. “not now,” you said, unable to look at him, “my breath smells.” you both know it’s a pitiful attempt at a joke, but when he tries to pry, you ignore him. lavender eyes trail after your form, noting the way you bend into yourself as you walk, closed off.

mitsuya’s always allowed you your space and this time is no different. except for the fact that he can’t focus at all, too distracted by the guilt gnawing on his bones. he has a deadline to meet, yet he can’t seem to care when his partner is upset with him.

he removes his glasses before running his hands over his face. he mulls over the apology in his head, before he’s up and heading toward your bedroom. when he arrives, he kneels at your side of the bed, one hand caressing your cheek to rouse you from sleep. when you blink almost awake you’re met with his pretty face, guilt etched into his features.

“taka..?” your voice barely louder than a whisper, you fight against the heaviness of your eyelids, the inherent need to see him reigning over the lull of sleep. you love him after all.

“morning angel,” he starts, dragging his thumb over the curve of your cheek. “i’m sorry.”

you open your mouth to speak, but mitsuya presses a finger against your lips, shaking his head. his silver locks move in tandem, his eyes peeking underneath them as he focuses on the hardwood floor. it’s hard for him to remember what he wanted to say, being in front of you much different than the scenario rehearsed in his head. at the end of the day though, mitsuya is a man of his word, whether it’s to you or himself, he’ll see it through.

he steels himself, looking you straight-on as you blink at him, one hand placed over his. “i’m really sorry.” he reiterates, “for neglecting you. i’m also sorry for not noticing sooner. i shouldn’t have asked you to model for me when i’ve barely spent any time with you… i’m just.. sorry.”

“can i speak now?” you ask, squeezing his hand and he nods. you push yourself up onto your elbows, before placing your hands on his shoulders. “i’m sorry for being selfish.”

he shakes his head, “you’re not selfish, don’t say that. i mean, i could say the same thing right?”

your expression is somber as you respond, “takashi… it’s your job, hon. it’s always been like this, it’s not like this is your first collection either.”

but mitsuya can read you like a book, remembering that with each disagreement, you’ll hide your feelings in favor of his. he knows when you break eye contact, looking away, that you’re not saying what’s really on your mind.

“do you love me?” he asks, before running his finger under the curve of your jawline. when you nod, he tilts your face back upward, forcing you to look at him, “then be honest with me.”

“o-okay…” you sigh, “i hate your job.”

he grins, “that was brutal.” but he still nods, urging you to continue.

“i hate your stupid deadlines and i hate when you’re super busy, because i want to spend time with you. and also, i miss you all the time and by the way, that stupid runway coordinator called your cell and when i answered they hung up immediately! that’s so unprofessional! like, you should be grateful i even answered the damn phone! right?” you huff once you finish your tirade, your feet kicking up and down in annoyance.

mitsuya can’t help but laugh once you’re done, it’s the most animated he’s seen you these past few days. he likes it.

“don’t laugh!” you pout, puffing your cheeks out and your boyfriend has to bite back another laugh.

“no, no, you’re right, how could they hang up on my partner?” he agrees and your face softens. “but damn, i didn’t think you hated my job that much.”

you gasp, freezing for a moment, “ahh, well it’s not like i hate it-“

“you just despise it?” he quips, one eyebrow raised, interrupting you.

“no!” you exclaim, continuing to pout. but you feel lighter, like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

“you feel better?” he asks, taking your hands into his and pressing a kiss to them.

maybe the two of you didn’t exactly solve the problem, but that’s fine, you can never stay upset with him for long.

“a little bit.” you say, before tugging him upwards. “you know what would really make me feel better?”

“hm?” he tilts his head, eyes soft.

“if you cuddled with me.” you respond, tugging at him just a bit harder.

he smiles as he climbs into bed, “as you command, my dear.”

draken:

sometimes, you think ryuguji ken would be better off moving into his bike shop. you don’t mean to be bratty, really, but you can’t help it. the countless nights of him coming home late have been taking a toll on you. it’s been worse since inui’s taken some time off which means draken and shinichiro need to take over, which means less time with your boyfriend.

you check your phone one more time for the daily goodnight text, but when you see none, you quietly turn your phone off and close your eyes to try to get some sleep.

but it hurts, like the prick of a thorn or the sting from a wasp, but you know when draken’s busy, it’s best not to bother him. still, you can’t help the tears that bubble up, spilling over like the flood of a dam as you hug yourself, burying your face into your pillow. when you finally settle, you hope he won’t notice puffiness of your eyes when he comes home. maybe he’ll keep the light off, you hope, as you drift into a deep sleep.

when he finally gets home, smelling distinctly of motor oil, he tries his best to stay quiet, borderline tiptoeing his way to your shared bedroom. as he changes out of his dirty clothes, his eyes naturally trail to your sleeping form. there’s something off.

if there’s one thing about draken, he can pick up on every subtle shift of your mood. after all, draken knows you best.

he knows he should probably shower as you hate the smell of the oil and grease, but his body moves towards you anyway. he turns the bedroom light on before he climbs onto the bed, grabbing you and shaking gently.

“baby?” he calls, watching as your face scrunches up.

“hm? what is it?” you murmur, a little irritated, but you let him turn you over anyway.

“were you crying?” he asks and you force your sleepy eyes open. concern paints his face as he cups your cheek, “what happened?”

“nothin’,” you lie, staring at his chest rather than his face. “i’m just tired.”

“and your eyes are swollen just because?” he cocks a brow, already onto your little lie.

“yep.” you quip, before pushing his hand away and sinking into your pillow. “it doesn’t matter, kenny.”

“except it does,” he replies, moving down with you, “what happened?” he asks again and part of you feels like maybe it’s time to answer. until you remember the big race mikey has coming up, which makes you decide to keep your mouth shut.

draken sighs, “alright, i won’t pry.” he stays there in his dirty clothes, yawning as he stretches and lays back, eyes closed.

you scrunch your nose. “kenny… aren’t you gonna shower?”

“yep.” he says, in the same tone you gave him earlier.

“… and when are you gonna do that?” you press, silently thinking about the laundry you’re going to have to do later.

“when you tell me what’s wrong.” he answers, head leaning back against the headboard. he peeks an eye down at you, smirking at the incredulous look on your face. “what? i said i wouldn’t pry, not that i wouldn’t wait. take your time.”

“and if I decide I won't tell you anything all night?” you ask, slightly sitting up.

“like i said, take your time.” he shrugs.

“you’re …insane.” you scoff, laying back down. you pull the blanket over you, back to him.

“nah, just patient.” he corrects and the two of you fall into another uncomfortable silence.

for the next few minutes, it’s completely quiet and you think draken may have actually fallen asleep sitting up. but when you turn around, you meet his eyes, soft yet concerned. you know that he cares, it’s the essence of your relationship. so maybe, just this once, you could let him know.

hesitantly, you open your mouth to speak. “if i asked you to spend less time at the shop and more time with me… would that be okay?” your voice is low, quiet, and unsure.

instead of answering, he asks,“do you love me?” and you find yourself confused.

“huh? that doesn’t-”

“just answer the question.” he interrupts.

“yes, of course i do.”

“then why wouldn’t it be okay?” he asks, pulling you into his embrace. “i didn’t have to pick up the extra shifts if you didn’t want me to.”

“and leave shin to die from overworking?” you joke, but in actuality, it is a ton of maintenance work.

“why not?” he smirks and you laugh. “ah! there it is, your pretty smile.”

“you stink.” you grumble, pushing away from him. “i’m mad at you.” but your heart betrays you and the pout you try to display is futile as the corners of your mouth curve into a small smile.

“huh? you talkin’ about me or my personality?” draken quips, but he holds onto you tighter as you continue to try to push off. “don’t go anywhere, angel. you’re comin’ with me.”

“what? where are we- ah!” you squeal as he gets up, taking you with him. you quickly wrap your arms around him, clinging tightly.

he smiles, basically beaming and you realize that made you fall in the first place. draken is kind, selfless, even if he may not seem like it at first. he’s always good at making you feel better, even if you don’t tell him.

“to shower,” he answers, starting the trek to the bathroom, “you keep saying i smell.”

“i already showered.” you protest, but you rest your head on his shoulder. “but i guess i do smell like car grease now.”

he stops in his tracks, his mouth pressed into a line. “shit. our bed does too.”

“should we sleep on the couch?” you suggest and he starts moving again.

“or we could crash takemichi’s place.” he says, pushing the bathroom door open with his shoulder.

“and interrupt his precious time with hina?” you muse as he sets you on the counter.

“isn’t that the point?” he asks, turning the water on before coming to slide between your legs, looming over you.

“what about mikey’s?” you ask, your hands naturally coming to help him take off his work jacket.

“fuck no,” he groans, letting you turn him around so you can finish taking it off. “he’s gonna try to cuddle with you again.”

“with us.” you correct and draken rolls his eyes before he shifts out his shirt. he dips down to press a firm kiss to your lips and you smile. “shower time?”

“shower time.”

chifuyu:

chifuyu matsuno curses under his breath as he races up the stairs to your apartment. he’d lost track of time, evening drinking turning into early morning. he hopes you won’t be too upset, hey, maybe he can blame it on baji.

when he gets home, making sure to walk a little quieter, he peeks his head into the bedroom. the light is left on but you’re asleep. his heart thumps a bit more and a blush creeps onto his face when he notices you’ve fallen asleep in his shirt.

his steps are light, springy even, as he makes his way over, plopping into bed beside you. you stir in your sleep as chifuyu watches you, his head leaning into his palm like a schoolboy in love.

“fuyu?” you mumble, as you stretch before turning over to face him. sleepy eyes meet pretty green and chifuyu thinks he’s in a dream... or maybe it’s the alcohol that’s still left in his system.

“hey lover,” he smiles as he scoots closer before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “good morning.”

“what time is it?” you ask, squinting, before adding, “hi to you too.”

“like 3am.” he answers and you hum.

“hm, tonight was that fun?” you yawn, trying your best to fight the drowsiness that's currently over taking your body.

“yeah,” he replies as another peck flits over your cheek. “wish you went with me.” he thinks about how much fun it would have been if you went with him earlier. how he’d love to walk home with you, hand in hand, sneaking kisses under the moonlight.

“‘m sorry, fuyu,” you mumble as your heavy lids close, losing the battle. “i’ll try to go next time..” you trail off as your body lulls you back to sleep.

the blond frowns, as cute as you are asleep, he wants your attention now. “oi, y/n. wake up.” he huffs, using his index finger to poke at your cheek.

when you only make a slight noise, he pokes harder. “wake. up.”

your eyelids flutter under his touch, but they don’t open and chifuyu sighs. “do you love me?” he whines, loudly.

you force your eyelids open at the question, he’s cute when he’s whiny so you indulge him. “yes, chifuyu, i love you a lot.” you mumble, before tipping your lips up into his, giving him a soft kiss.

you realize where the unusual clinginess comes from tonight as he tastes faintly of alcohol. normally, chifuyu would quietly get ready to bed before slipping under the covers to hold you as you slept. he wants you to get your rest and he’s fine with waiting til morning. although, there are some exceptions which almost always include a tipsy, pining boyfriend.

you giggle when he whines as you pull away.

“stay here.” he grumbles, before he’s cupping your cheeks and kissing you again.

“fuyu, i have work in a couple of hours,” you mumble between kisses.

“‘m sobering up,” he responds, “if i don’t do this, i’ll get a hangover.”

“that’s not how it works at all,” you sigh happily, “but okay.”

and so you let him. you let him kiss not only your lips but your cheeks, forehead, and even your neck. you giggle when he ghosts over a particularly ticklish area, but chifuyu is lost in you. lost in your scent, your voice, your everything. until suddenly, he’s not.

“fuyu?” you whisper, your arms laced around him.

there’s no response but the soft snores escaping him as his head is buried in your neck. you can tell he’s asleep by the way his body’s gone limp, the full weight on him bearing down on you. but it’s comfortable like this and you feel sleep beckoning you over.

when morning and inevitably, the time for work comes, you try your best to move out from underneath him without waking up. the soft daylight pours in through the blinds, casting rays on your boyfriend’s sleeping face.

you’re close, almost fully out from underneath him when an arm slings itself across your waist and pulls you back in.

“stay.” he mumbles, voice deep and slightly hoarse from his half asleep state.

“i have work,” you say, gently. “i’ll be back in a few.”

“just call off,” he says, tightening his grip on you.

“chifuyu-“

“please?” he pleads, one eye peeking up at you. the blush on his face this time isn’t from the alcohol.

it tugs at your heartstrings and you give in. “fine. but if i get in trouble you owe me.”

“you know, the pet shop is always hiring if you get fired.” he wiggles his eyebrows, throwing you a cheesy smile.

“ha. ha. very funny.” you retort, rolling your eyes.

but the smile on chifuyu’s face doesn’t disappear, he simply tilts his head to press it against yours.

“i’d take care of you forever, you know.” he says, completely serious and you feel your heart skip a beat.

“i know.” you mumble back, closing your eyes.

“i love you, y/n.” he says and you feel the tip of his nose brush against yours.

“i love you too, chifuyu.” you giggle and he realizes he wants to listen to it for the rest of his life. but he has no ring, he’ll need to remember to get your ring size.

“forever and ever?” he asks, his own heart fluttering to the timbre of your voice.

“forever and ever.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fluff #draken x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #ken ryuguji #draken #mitsuya takashi #chifuyu matsuno #pibby writing

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mydadleft471 · 2 months

Text

For The Love Of A Daughter

Summary: After getting caught looking for food to feed your daughter, Lord Messmer takes pity on you and extends mercy.

Spoilers for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. Slight warning for descriptions of violence and death.

This was requested by anonymous! I'll link the request here. This was SO MUCH FUN. I've never really wrote anything involving young children before, so I'm going off of the scant interactions I've had with some younger family members. I've also never wrote for a GN! reader. It was easier than I thought lmao. Thank you for the request anon!

I'm really considering making this a series tbh! If you'd like to see more, please let me know! I could've spent the whole day writing but I need to go eat lmao. (I've been writing for 2 hours help)

As always, thank you so much for reading, liking, commenting, and reblogging! I haven't had this much fun writing in such a long time and it makes me so unbelievably happy that I'm able to write things that make other people happy. Hope everyone enjoys!

Your lungs were on fire.

You hadn’t stopped running from the moment you entered the Land of Shadow. A few Tarnished once accompanied you, but they had been slain and you had no choice to move on for your sake and hers.

The little girl carefully strapped to your shoulders was maybe about 4 years old. You’d found her in the rubble of an old village in Caelid accompanied by two corpses, most likely her mother and father. Her sweet green eyes pierced yours and you knew you couldn’t leave her there. You were never much of a fighter anyways. Your hands were gentle and steady and your nerves did not hold strong in the throes of battle.

She only had one thing with her: a golden locket with a piece of folded paper inside with the name Jasmine written on it. You were unsure if that was her name or her mother’s, but you called her that. You found it fitting for her.

Currently, you were running from a pack of armed men all wielding the same unnatural fire. You had carefully snuck up to a dark looking castle in search of any food you could find, when suddenly, guards had honed in on your position and you ran for it, not knowing if they would be kind to you and your child.

Booking it straight for a charred town, you tried to maneuver your way around its buildings to confuse the men chasing you. After randomly choosing directions to turn and heading down a few alleyways, you found your way to a staircase. You squeezed yourself down into it, hoping that you were out of sight to go unnoticed.

You heard the thundering of footsteps approach your position and you held your breath. Jasmine began to squirm from where she was attached to your shoulders, so you quietly repositioned her in your arms. Her little hands meekly clutched your arm; it had been two days since she had last had something semi-filling.

You froze as you heard the sound of clanking metal approaching you. A man ducked down and his eyes found yours, your heart nearly stopping. He shouted to alert the other guards and they soon surrounded you. You couldn’t see them, but you heard so many footsteps. You were found.

“Come out, or we’ll drag you out.”

Slowly, you slid yourself from your hiding place, clutching Jasmine to your chest defensively.

“Please, I beg of you, let me go. She’s hungry. I was looking for food, that’s all.” Your voice wavers at the sight of so many weapons.

“Lord Messmer will decide your fate. You will come with us.”

With your head hung low, you follow their orders. They search you for any possessions you might have, which is basically nothing but a half-empty waterskin and a dull dagger, and confiscate them. They eye Jasmine, looking for anything she might be hiding, but they don’t dare touch her. Mercifully, they allow you to hold her as they march you back to the blackened castle you ran from.

You make your way up what must be a thousand stairs and your legs ache from the amount of walking you’ve done. Slowing down causes a guard to firmly grab your shoulder and keep you going at a brisk pace. Jasmine hides her face in your shoulder and you try to calm her by rubbing circles into her back. You would promise her that it would be okay, but you can imagine her parents promising that same thing, and now they were dead and she was being carried into an unknown place.

If it came down to it, you’d beg for her to remain safe and allow them to kill you.

Finally, the guards stopped you in front of a large metal door. It was intricately decorated and instilled true fear into you. This must be where Lord Messmer resided

“You will show respect at all times. Speak only when spoken to, or we will put you to the sword.”

You merely nod in response, not willing to test how quickly they would kill you.

The doors open with a protesting creak and the metal slides against the stone floor with an unnatural sound. It grates your ears and you cover Jasmine’s to save her from the awful noise. Two guards flank your shoulders and tap your shoulder, signaling for you to move forwards.

The room is lit with a few candles shimmering in the stagnant air. It smells like sulfur and blood. The guards stop you and push down on your shoulders, and you kneel. Jasmine stays in your arms, small hands wrapped tightly around your neck.

“My Lord, we’ve found an intruder. They were scouring around the castle and fled when seen. They say that they were looking for food for their child.” The guard barks out.

You keep your head down, terrified to look up.

“A child, here?” A new, lower voice cascades across the room sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes, My Lord.”

“A child does not belong in the Land of Shadow. Thou hast endangered them.” He doesn’t sound pleased. “Prithee, tell me thy reasoning for bringing one so fragile here.”

“I found her in Caelid, My Lord. Since then, we’ve been traveling with a group of Tarnished and our path led us here.” Your voice shakes as you speak.

“‘Tis not thy child in thine arms?”

You shake your head. “No, My Lord. She was in a ruined village, surrounded by rubble and rot. I couldn’t leave her there.” Your heart stings at the painful memory.

“Intriguing. What reason didst thou have to come to my castle?”

“As your guard said, My Lord. She is hungry. Food is not easy to come by here.”

“Dost thou remember when last she ate?”

“Two days ago was her last full meal. Since then, we’ve been living off of rowa fruits.”

Silence is your response, until you hear heavy footsteps approaching you. You squeeze your eyes shut and hug Jasmine tight. She trembles in your arms.

“The child has a name, I presume?” His voice is only a few feet away from you now.

“Jasmine, My Lord.”

He sighs. “How was thee treated by my men?”

“They didn’t take her away from me, My Lord. They never hurt us.”

He lets out what you assume is a sigh of relief. Something thumps against the ground making you jump. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the hilt of his weapon. You remember other Tarnished referring to Lord Messmer as the Impaler, and you shuddered in fear.

“Thy only crime is trespassing, but do not thinkest me heartless. Thou art forgiven, and I shall extend mercy unto thee.” His tone changes as he addresses one of his men. “They shalt be taken to comfortable quarters and attended by female staff only. Shall any man lay a hand upon the child, they shalt be killed immediately, without mercy.”

“Yes, My Lord.” The guard leaves the room quickly, probably thanking his lucky stars for permission to exit the room.

“Rise. Thou needn’t stare at the floors any longer.” His voice softens as he speaks to you.

With shaking legs, you do as he asks and you spare a glance in his direction. He towers over you, serpents coiling around his slender frame, and you notice he has one eye that glimmers a brilliant gold. His great spear is held firmly in his right hand.

“Thank you. Truly.” You do your best to bow in your current state. Without adrenaline, you’re extremely shaky. You almost collapse, but a serpent gently coils around your waist and holds you up.

“I shall have food sent to thine quarters immediately.” You can almost hear worry in his voice.

You nod and mindlessly pat the serpent holding you up gently. It nuzzles into your palm.

As if on cue, a female servant with deep brown hair enters the room and you see a smile work her way onto her face at the sight of Jasmine.

“Is this who you would have me attend to, My Lord?”

“Yes. They are exhausted and have been without proper food for days. Ensure they are looked after.”

The woman places a hand on your shoulder and the serpent withdraws itself from your waist. You feel extremely unsteady, but the woman is stronger than she looks.

“Come on now, love. Let’s get you some food.” She hooks your arm over her shoulder and wraps her other arm around your back.

Slowly, she guides you out of the stagnant room and towards your quarters. She keeps you upright and doesn’t allow you to sway.

“Lord Messmer has taken pity on you, truly. Usually, trespassers are not dealt with so lightly.” She explains to you.

You don’t desire to dwell on what your fate could’ve been, so you quickly change the subject. “Do you have a name?” You ask her and she smiles once more.

“Sianet. A pleasure to serve you.”

You reach your room and Sianet gently helps you inside, settling you on a large, extremely comfortable bed. She goes to shut your door, then grabs a large pitcher of water. She helps you drink, the cold water a welcome luxury.

“Would you like some, little one?” She holds out the glass to Jasmine who keeps her head tucked into your shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay. You should drink some water. It’s cold.” You keep your voice steady and she slowly raises her head. Her eyes quickly scan around the room and she looks at Sianet.

“Hello, sweet thing. Do you have a name?”

You prepare yourself to answer for her, as Jasmine really only speaks to you, but you’re shocked when she replies on her own, her voice a meek whisper.

“My name is Jasmine.”

Sianet smiles wider, her white teeth almost blinding. “That’s a lovely name, Jasmine. Would you have some water for me?”

Jasmine nods and grabs at the glass. Sianet helps her drink, tipping the cup back slowly. Once she finishes drinking, the glass is put beside the pitcher on the table next to your bed.

“Your dinner should be ready soon. While we wait, shall I draw a bath for the little one?”

Jasmine’s eyes light up and she nods furiously. Sianet laughs and makes her way to the corner of the room, beckoning for her to follow. Jasmine looks at you with wide eyes.

“Can I follow her?”

“Go on. You stink.” She giggles and launches herself off your lap, toddling off after Sianet.

You flop unceremoniously onto the bed and shut your eyes. You had been wandering for so long that you almost forgot what a proper bed felt like. You remind yourself that you’re safe, even if only for a little while. You can relax and rest. You’ve earned it.

A sudden knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. You hear Jasmine and Sianet talking in the next room, so you make your way to the door yourself. Opening it, you are surprised to see Lord Messmer himself. His serpents flick their tongues at you, almost like a greeting.

“What can I do for you, Lord Messmer?”

“I came to ensure thy room was to thine liking.”

You smile at him. “I’ve never stayed somewhere so beautiful. I have no complaints, My Lord.”

His eye twinkles and he peers around you to look inside the room. You silently berate yourself for your horrible manners.

“My apologies, My Lord. Would you like to come in?”

“I shalt not invade thy privacy. Where hast thy child gone?”

“She’s currently taking a much needed bath. She’s okay.” To confirm your words, Jasmine lets out a delighted squeak. The corners of his lip turn up in a small smile.

“Sianet: is she to thine liking as well?”

“She’s very attentive and sweet. You don’t need to worry.”

He clears his throat. “Thy room is guarded well. If thou have need for anything, thou must only ask.”

“Thank you, My Lord. I hope you know how much this means to us.”

“‘Tis no matter. ‘Twould make me a monster to not attend to thee, especially the child.”

“Not that I’m not grateful, but… why are you helping us? Sianet told me that trespassers are usually not dealt with in such a manner.”

His expression falters a little. You worry you overstepped.

“Thou did not hurt my men. Thou did not invade my castle with ill intent.” He pauses, looking away from you. “And it hath been countless moons since a child has inhabited the Land of Shadow.”

“I see.”

Silence encompasses you both, and you take in the details of his face. He has strong cheekbones and a proud, regal nose. His golden eye shimmers in the dim candlelight around you.

“I shalt not bother thee any longer. Give my regards to thy child, and if thou hast need for anything, I permit thee ask.”

“Thank you, Lord Messmer. I’m lucky to have met you.”

His eye widens and a peaceful smile finds itself on his face. He looks handsome like that, you think to yourself.

He bows slightly and leaves you, his serpents coiling themselves around him as he gets further from your door. You shut it and sigh, returning to your bed. The mattress envelops you in a comfortable embrace, and you swear you could fall asleep now and not wake up for a few days. Exhaustion clings to your nerves and bones, and your eyelids grow heavy. You shut them and find yourself immediately succumbing to slumber.

“Wake up! Food’s here!” You’re rudely awoken by Jasmine bouncing excitedly on the bed. You groan and sit up, your body creaking in protest at the sudden movement.

“Alright! I’m up.” She giggles and grabs your hand, pulling you to stand.

Yawning, you do. Rubbing your eyes, you notice that Sianet is carefully arranging a table of food. The smell makes your mouth water. Jasmine runs to help her, her skin now cleaned and clothed in a new dress. Her little feet pad across the marble floors and you don’t remember ever seeing her so excited.

“Sleep well?” Sianet asks, turning her head to meet your gaze.

“Better than I’ve ever slept before. Until someone interrupted.” Jasmine giggles and runs behind a chair, hiding from your teasing.

“I am glad.” She dusts her hands off on her apron and stands back. “Your dinner is ready.”

“Thank you, Sianet.”

You make your way over to the table and sit down in one of the chairs. Just like your bed, it is extremely comfortable. Before you is a large spread of meats, fruits, and a few desserts. You had been given a bottle of wine to indulge in if you so desired. You can’t remember a time when you had so much choice in what to eat.

Jasmine is lifted into her chair by Sianet, which has been outfitted with a booster seat, and her eyes go wide at the amount of food. You see her gaze immediately lock onto a small tray of chocolate.

“You can’t have just chocolate for dinner, Jasmine.”

She scowls. “You’re right. There’s not enough.” You laugh and shake your head.

“If you need me, say something to the guards. I must go and ensure you have clothes. A bath has been drawn for you already.”

“Thank you, Sianet. We appreciate it.”

“Thank you for giving me a bath.” Jasmine has already stuffed a piece of chocolate in her mouth.

“Of course. I will be back shortly.” She bows her head and takes her leave.

You and Jasmine have your fill of whatever you want. You indulge in some chocolate and a glass of wine and eat until you’re completely full. You imagine this is how Messmer lives each and every day.

You could get used to this.

You make an effort to clean up your plates and stack them so they can be easily taken away and Jasmine makes her way over to the bed. Once you’re finished, you sit beside her.

“Will you tuck me in?”

“Of course.” You pull the soft blankets up and over her, folding them delicately so she can keep her arms out. She smiles and wiggles, getting comfy.

“Mother used to tuck me in every night.” She never spoke of her parents, so this was surprising to you. “She had long hair and a pretty smile. But that’s all I can remember.”

Your heart pinches painfully. “I’m sorry, little one.” You grab her hand and squeeze it.

“Why?”

“Because you can’t really remember your mother.”

“That’s okay. I have you.” She smiles at you and you feel tears well up in your eyes. You finally know that she’s safe and fed and warm, unlike so many other nights. She is protected by a demigod in his home. Nobody can touch her. She can finally be a child.

“You will always have me,” you promise.

She shuts her eyes and you gently stroke her hair. The brown shimmers in the candlelight. You wonder if her mother had brown hair. When you found her parents, you were so worried about Jasmine that you never looked at them hard enough to remember. Maybe that was for the best.

You rise slowly from the bed to not disturb her sleep, and gently tip-toe your way to the bathroom. Like the bedroom, it was extravagant. Marble floors and tiles and a large candelabra hung from the ceiling, painting the room in a serene glow. The bath sat full, the water still steaming with some petals gently floating on the water. The room smelled like vanilla.

Undressing yourself, you catch your reflection in the mirror. Bruises litter your body like constellations and scars are forever etched on your flesh. You’ve grown skinny, far too skinny, from not eating. You prioritized Jasmine’s food over yours. You did not want her to grow up malnourished.

Tearing your gaze away from yourself, you step into the water and sit down, your body relaxing into the water immediately. The warmth permeates your skin and soothes your bones. The tub is big enough for you to full submerge yourself if you so choose, and you do. The only noise you hear is the gentle swooshing of water. It’s almost like being in a void. You remain under the water until your lungs quickly remind you that you need to resurface for air, and you do. Your hair now wet, you shampoo and condition it, leaving it soft and silky smooth. You choose a purple soap sitting on the edge of the tub and thoroughly lather yourself in it, basking in the lavender scent.

You remain in the water until it begins to chill, and you step out. Drying yourself off, you notice a silk robe hanging on the rack by the door. It is much too large for you, but you don’t really care. You take it and wrap yourself in it. Once more, you look at yourself in the mirror, and you don’t recognize who stands there. They have soft hair and smooth, clean skin wrapped in fine silks. You remind yourself that it is, in fact, you who stands there.

Making your way out of the washroom, you smile as you see Jasmine still sleeping soundly in the bed. The fireplace nearby roars and you begin to extinguish a few candles. Gently settling into the bed beside Jasmine, you lay a kiss to her forehead before shutting your eyes and returning to St. Trina’s domain once more.

Little did you know that Messmer himself had ignited the fireplace and brought you one of his robes. He doubted that he’d tell you. But he’d be a liar if he said seeing you in his robe didn’t make his heart flutter in his chest.

#messmer the impaler #messmer x reader #messmer x tarnished #messmer the impaler x reader #elden ring x reader #elden ring messmer #he's a softie i swear #poor boy is having thoughts

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