#what to do with leftover bananas

[queenerdloser]

my dad: yeah i'll be there at 3:30p

me, like a normal person: gets ready & is all set to go by 3:30p literally on the dot.

my dad at 3:45p: sike i'll actually be there at 4:30p

me: great :) love this :)

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

You have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was.  And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

tags: 🔞construction worker simon/neighbour reader, unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), size kink, brief mention of simon's childhood abuse

part 1 | part 2

After that things shift, just a little. You still sit with Simon while he works, handing him tools he teaches you the names of; still try to convince him to get pay for his work around the house. 

But you have his favourite tea on hand. You ask him what he'd like for dinner this weekend. One time you opened the door for him within seconds of buzzing, like you'd been as eager for his visit as he was. 

And maybe most devastating of all: you routinely start making too much food for even Simon to finish. 

“Thought you might want some leftovers for lunch,” you tell him, holding out two tupperware boxes. “If you're working those long hours you have to eat right, you know?” 

When Simon opens them at home, just before tucking them away in his work bag for tomorrow, his chest clenches. It's not just leftovers. There's dried beef jerky, a pack of crackers that go well with coffee, and a fist-sized chunk of banana bread. And— 

A little note. 

His heart hammers against his chest when he unfolds it. It's nearly dark out, crickets chirping soft and low somewhere beneath the window. The only sound in his kitchen is the ticking of a clock. 

Good luck today! Don't work too hard :)  

“Christ,” he mumbles, fingers tracing over the ink. Pretty. Like you. Like every fucking thing you do. 

Summer is nearing its end, and Simon is running out of excuses. Part of him feels proud to see the house shape up to the best it can be, but over the months the boxes have nearly all disappeared. He knows—has helped you unpack God knows how many books. Helped you put together a new bookcase, even. 

But if he's no longer useful, what's keeping you from closing your door on him? Dread rises sharp and fast in Simon's throat when he thinks about a dark, cold home waiting for him as his only company. He passes your door on the way home, more often than not sees your silhouette against the warm light of your window. Illuminating the hard dirty edges of him.  

You've started feeding him, this big mean watchdog, and he might choke on his leash if you stop now. 

“Hello, what is that?”   

Simon sharply yanks his lunch away from Johnny's grabby paws.  

“None f’your business.” 

“Is that bloody banana bread? You've got to be fuckin’ me.” 

“That's homemade,” Kyle says unhelpfully from just behind Simon's shoulder. 

“Piss off,” Simon grumbles. 

Johnny does not, of course, piss off. Instead he grins, cheeky and wide. “Didn't know y’had a bird, Simon.” 

“Fuck,” Kyle groans. “Is that roast beef? That smells so good. Where'd you get this?” 

Johnny snorts. “More like who's he blackmailin'.” 

Simon glowers at Johnny, then says through a mouthful, “My girl.” 

If there'd been any hope of them dropping it, it's gone now. Simon realises his mistake as soon the words leave his mouth and Kyle and Johnny light up.  

They're incessant. Dog him at every opportunity—who is she? What's her name? What's she look like? Show us a photo, Simon, dinnae be so selfish. 

Simon suffers it for a week until he slams his gloves on Price's table and threatens someone's going to end up in the cement mixer by the end of the day if he doesn't do something about it. 

They quiet down after that, though they can't help but ask after you every now and then—even Price, who despite his congratulatory shoulder clap admits he wishes he had a sweet thing of his own. 

And the lunches keep going. As do the notes, every one of which Simon keeps carefully tucked away in a box at home. He didn't find one last night, and he suppresses the wave of disappointment. Maybe you forgot. Maybe you were just tired, and maybe he's grown too comfortable with your casual affection. 

So when a little piece of paper that was stuck to the bottom of the lid flutters onto the ground the next day Simon is unprepared. The two seconds of surprise cost him—Johnny dives after it like a hawk and scoops it before it's barely touched the concrete. 

“You little shit—” 

Simon's at him immediately, and Johnny, delighted by what he thinks is a funny fucking little game, twists and dodges while fumbling the note open with one hand. 

“Looking forward to dinner tonight. Be safe today,” Johnny reads before Simon snatches it from him with a hard shove to his head. “Aww, Simon, you lucky shite. C’mon, give us one o’ those cookies, aye? If you're goin’ home to a candle lit dinner.” 

“Get your own cookies,” Simon huffs, and curls one arm around his tupperware protectively while he eats. 

Looking forward.   

So is he. 

- 

“Simon!” 

Simon whips his head around and catches you stepping out of your car with a wave. You've arrived home just after him today, and his breath catches in his throat when he sees your dress flutter prettily around your legs. 

You're dressed up all nice today—must've been at university, then. Simon doesn't know which he likes better: the shorts you wear at home or the glimpse of cleavage he gets when you wear a nice work blouse. 

His dick throbs when he holds his own hand up in greeting, hanging back just to get those few extra seconds with you.  

He's not sure why today is especially bad. Probably doesn't help that every time he jacks off in the shower you're the one he thinks of, imaging your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. It's hard to resist the indulgence after a long hard day of sweating and laying brick, then coming home and only getting to look, not touch. He doesn't want to stain you with his filth, but what's he supposed to do? He wants you. 

And his desire has sat festering in the confines of his rib cage for months. It curls his hands in tight fists so he doesn't reach for you by accident the way he does in his dreams, keeps him from leaning in to taste your lips to see if they're as sweet as your cobbler pies. 

“Alright?” he asks when you get closer. You feel off, distant, and when you nod it feels like it's more for his sake than for the truth of it. 

“Yeah. Um.” You adjust the strap of the bag on your shoulder, shifting on your feet. “I wanted to let you know I can't do dinner tomorrow. I'm, um, I have a date, so...” 

The spin of the world stutters for a second.  

Simon sucks in a quiet breath. “That so.” 

“Yeah.” You look up at him with a sad little smile. Not the kind of face you'd expect from someone who just scored a date, but Simon is too wrapped up in his misery to notice. “How was your day?” 

Normal. Unsuspecting. Good, even, until you told him some twat is taking you out to dinner.  

“Fine,” he hears himself say. Adds, “Watchin’ a match tonight.”  

An excuse—an out for both of you. You won't have to feel obligated to ask him if he'd like to come ‘round for a meal, and he won't have to pretend he doesn't feel like throwing up. 

“Go Manchester,” you reply with a smile. 

Just like Simon, they don't score. 

- 

He waits up for you. It's pathetic, really—that of all things this is what gets him to dig around for a pack of smokes. Been mostly clean ever since you moved in next to him, his half-hearted attempts to quit finally mounting up to something with real resolve. 

He doesn't want to taste nicotine when he eats your meals. 

Even threw out his lighter. Which means when he finds a crushed, dust-caked pack with only one cigarette in it behind his couch he has to light it with a match and shaky hands. 

It tastes awful. But it's familiar, and sometimes he craves the burn even when he sees his dad putting out his own cigs on Simon's legs behind his eyelids. 

The evening grows colder around him, late summer skies tinted with dark purples and blues. It's quiet in the neighbourhood. He's the only one out this late—everyone else has retreated to the comfort of their homes, ready to turn in for the night. 

It should feel peaceful, but all Simon feels is anxious and on edge. Not even the smoke calms his nerves. 

Should he back off, leave you to the happiness you deserve? Throw everything away in one last shot, ask to take you out like he's wanted to forever? 

Words are no good, but he's tried so desperately to show you that he'd do just about anything if you asked. To let you know that underneath his gruff silences he doesn't bite the hand that feeds him and that he'd rip anyone else to shreds for raising a finger against you. 

Simon's head lifts when his ears pick up the rumbling of a car. Is it...? 

It is. 

Lamplight flashes over the cobbled street, and then the rumble of the engine turns off with a click. 

You're alone—thank God. Simon doesn't know what he would've done if you'd taken your date home. 

You look worn out, and not the happy kind after a successful lay. Just tired—to the point where you almost don't notice him and jump when you do. You take a startled step back from his hulking silhouette leaning against the stone little fence curling around all the houses along the street you share, before pausing and asking in a soft voice: 

“Simon?” 

And because he's a masochist he asks, “Y’have fun?” 

He expects a yes. At best a non-committal shrug—at worst an enthusiastic smile. But you look down at your shoes, chew your lip, and say, “No.” A breath. “No. It was awful. He was a twat, and he tried to feel me up under the table, and he's been hounding me at university for months, and I got so sick of it I just said yes but now I'm going to have to email HR and ugh—!”  

Your voice breaks on the last sentence and you sniffle, turning your face away from Simon so you can give it a quick wipe with the back of your hand. 

He's up on his feet in an instant, trying to take slow breaths so he doesn't act on the overwhelming urge to hunt down the wankstain and crush his fingers so he can never fucking touch you again. Your dog bites without warning or remorse, and everything in him wants to show your sad excuse of a date just how sharp his teeth are. 

But he can't. You're hurting, and that's more important than breaking some bloke's nose. 

And so Simon tries for softness as much as he's capable of it, large scarred hand hesitantly landing on your shoulder. It's all the coaxing you need to lean into his touch, and when Simon shifts a little closer your head falls on his shoulder. He burns with a different kind of fire. 

“Sorry,” you sniffle. “I'm okay, I really am, it was just such a—such a—” 

“S’alright,” Simon rasps. He pets your hair and strokes your back with a clumsy touch, unsure of how far he should, can, is allowed to go. “Y’should've called me. Would've come t’pick you up, maybe sock him a new one.”  

He'd do more than that if you'd let him. He'd take you home and made sure the only time you cried was when he worked his fat cock inside you. 

Christ, he's going to hell. 

“I didn't want to bother you,” you say in a small voice. 

“Sweetheart. You're never botherin’ me.” You let out a shaky sigh, and Simon tucks your head under his chin a little more securely. “Woulda made sure y’got home safe.” 

It's quiet, then, save for the sound of a car driving away somewhere down the road. Simon doesn't say anything else. He doesn't want to break the spell that you're under. You feel so soft in his arms, his sweet bird, finally come home to where you belong. 

“I kept wishing it was you.” Your voice is so soft he almost doesn't catch it, but before he can process it you pull yourself out of his embrace, cursing under your breath. “Sorry. Sorry—forget I said that. I'm... I'm gonna go home.” 

Simon's hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You stare at him with big wet eyes that has the pit of his stomach swoop low. 

“Y’wish it was me?” 

His voice is low and rough, strained with want. 

Your cheeks burn and you avert your eyes, though you don't pull your hand away. “Sorry. Ignore me, I'm just...” 

“I'll take you,” Simon says a little too quickly. “Anywhere you wanna go. Dinner. Movies.” He pauses, trying to remember what people do for fun. “The library.” 

There. You hiccup a little laugh, finally, and the beginnings of a smile tug at your mouth. 

“The library?” 

Simon smiles a little, too. “Anywhere you want,” he repeats. Even the fucking library. 

Your gaze drops to your hands, and you carefully turn your palm against his. “I think I'd like that.” 

Simon swallows and lets his fingers intertwine with yours. “Yeah?” 

“I don't really care where we go, though. If it's with you.” 

Jesus bloody Christ. 

“Okay,” Simon says, voice tight. “Alright. We'll—we'll figure it out. We'll go somewhere.” A breeze hits you as he says it, and you shiver. “...Right now let's just get you home.” 

You nod, the fatigue overtaking your features again. Simon walks you all the way to your door, squints against the night sensor he installed himself. 

You hover in the doorway before opening your mouth, closing it, then take a small step forward to rise on your toes. Simon's heartbeat kicks up under your hand where you steady yourself on his chest, and then he feels your lips press against his cheek. It's his bad one, the one with the nasty scar from a bar fight long ago. 

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

“Yeah,” he manages, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. “’Course.” 

The door closes with a soft click.  

- 

When you mention wanting to hike out on a trail nearby Simon, true to his word, makes it happen. It's not so bloody hot anymore and it's nice, hearing the birds chirp overhead. Nice to exist in a world where everything is washed in shades of mottled green, hearing the dirt crunch under his feet.  

It relaxes him. Makes his muscles untense. You promised him a picnic at the end of the trail, and to Simon's delight he succeeds in coaxing you to feed him bites of your homemade sandwiches in the midst of tall grass and meadow flowers. 

When you get home, sweat and sun lingering on your skin, Simon has full intentions of dropping you off at your doorstep and wishing you a good night. Maybe get another kiss if he's lucky. 

And he does—but you linger, soft lips hovering over his cheek. His fingers curl and uncurl against his sides, waiting and wondering. 

“Please kiss me?” you breathe on his skin, and that's all it takes. 

He surprises himself with the intensity of it, but fucking hell, he's wanted you for so long. His shoulders hunch, neck bent low, and he slots his mouth over yours. Your little fingers grab at his shirt for balance, and he pushes you against your doorframe. Every time he pulls away you make a small noise of protest and chase his lips, and though Simon hasn't had a drop of alcohol today he feels well on his way to hammered. 

“Do you want to—please come inside—?” 

Simon groans and rests his forehead against yours. Fuck. “I want to—want t’do this right,” he rasps. 

You exhale with a shaky breath. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes glittering like stars. Simon's stomach lurches at seeing you want him. “Right, um. Of course. I just—I've thought about... about you. For a—a really long timmf—” 

Simon groans into your mouth. He cups your cheeks, one hand sliding to hold you at the back of your neck. A sweat breaks out along his spine when he imagines you at night, in your bedroom, fucking yourself with your little fingers. Whimpering his name... 

“Yeah? Y’want me to take you to bed, sweetheart?” he murmurs, and you shiver. 

The two of you barely make it past the door until Simon is stealing the breath from your lungs again. He's wanted this for so long it's a little hard to stop, even if it's to break apart for air. Miraculously you seem to want it as much as he does, seem as desperate for his touch as he is for yours. 

When has anyone wanted him this bad? When has he ever felt like he'd die on the spot if he didn't get inside you right the fuck now? 

He doesn't need to ask you where the bedroom is. This place has felt his touch almost as much as yours, has shaped up into a cosy little home that is part of him, too. Like he wants to be part of you. 

Simon simply scoops you up and carries you straight to bed, forgetting to be gentle when he deposits on the mattress. His head is buzzing, his heart is thundering, and he needs you now.  

Fortunately you don't seem to mind much. Your hands immediately fly to his belt, tug at the metal impatiently, then fumble with his zipper with trembling hands. Simon pulls your top over your head, throws it somewhere on the floor without a care followed by his own. 

“Lie back,” he husks, and makes quick work of your trousers. Pauses just for a second to take in the growing wet patch of your panties. 

“Simon,” you whine softly. 

He drops to his knees and slides his large hands over your thighs, transfixed. He smooths over the goosebumps on your legs, presses a kiss to your knee. 

“Want me t’take these off?” he rasps, snapping the band of your panties. You lift your hips in silent assent. Simon helps you shimmy off your underwear and suppresses a moan when a string of sticky arousal clings to the fabric—then follows it right to the source. 

You gasp when he kisses your folds before gently spreading them with big warm fingers. “Sweet little cunt,” Simon mutters, and then he goes to town. 

He starts with slow, wet licks, feeling out what you like and what's too much. He keeps it light for a while just to feel you squirm and to hear your breathing turn ragged, then backs off just when your knees start trembling. He smiles when you whimper his name with a desperate little “please". 

“Such good manners.” His breath washes over your clit, and your hips try to twitch away from him. “Proper sweetheart, yeah?” 

It's great fun, playing with you, but his cock is throbbing painfully and he's leaking everywhere, and he very much intends for you to end the night feeling so blissed out you let him sleep next to you. 

So Simon hoists you closer, hooks your thighs over his shoulder, and sucks on your clit until you're sobbing his name. He holds your hips down by splaying one big hand over your stomach because you're a sensitive little thing, bucking away from him when he's not nearly done with you yet.  

It's cute, seeing you lose yourself to the pleasure. It's also really fucking hot. Simon slowly pushes one finger in you and groans when you clench around him. 

“Simon,” you whimper. “Oh, please, please—” 

Such a good girl, begging without him telling you to. Simon crooks his finger, and your next breath is a stutter of moans before your whole body tenses and you cum on his tongue. 

Simon hums approvingly, keeping his motions slow and steady so you ride it out all the way. When you whine and wriggle away from him he lets up, wiping at your slick covering his chin. 

Best meal you've cooked him by far. 

“Oh,” you sigh. “That was... Give me—give me a minute...” 

Simon chuckles and rises from his knees to crawl over you and steal a kiss. “Feelin’ good, princess?” 

“Princess—” you let out a breathless laugh, but even in the low light of your nightstand lamp Simon sees the colour rise in your cheeks. Liked that, did you? You blink up at him, a sweet satisfied smile on your lips. “Mhm. So good. Come here?” 

Your hands trail over his sides, stroke over the light hair trailing down his stomach. Simon shudders when your knuckles brush over his cock and he shucks off his trousers further to give you better access. 

When you wrap your hand around him he drops his head into the crook of your shoulder and moans. The twitch of his hips is involuntary, too desperate to chase his pleasure to stay put. 

“Next time,” you whisper while pulling him forward, spreading your legs wider to fit around his hips, “I want to feel you in my mouth.” 

“Jesus,” he groans. It takes everything in him to not just slide in. “We need a condom?” 

“I'm clean,” you murmur against his jaw. “On birth control. If you want we can—” 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Simon says, and you laugh. Soft eyes when your hands slide over his shoulders, brush through the short hair on his neck. Simon watches your face while he lines himself up without blinking, and he's rewarded with the flutter of your eyelashes, the parting of your soft lips. 

Your brows scrunch together at the first few inches, and he kisses you sweetly to make you relax. Simon knows he's not small, and he groans when you clench around him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers against your hair. “Good girl. Just like that, yeah? Takin’ it real well. Just like that.” 

He slides in a little deeper. You shiver and mewl and beg him for more, and he gives it to you. Anything you want.  

“Simon,” you whimper. “Feels so—oh, you feel so good. More, please, please—?” 

Simon brushes the hair from your forehead, keeping his thrusts long and slow and making sure to kiss your cervix each time, just because your breath stutters so prettily every time he does. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, you're so—such a tight little cunt. Couldn't wait any longer, could you? Jus’ had to have me?” 

You nod immediately and empathically, eyes glassy with arousal. You try to answer him, but the only thing you manage are airy moans that sound like his name. 

That's alright. Don't need to talk. He knows what you want to say; he feels the same. Simon catches you in a messy kiss while lacing his fingers with yours. Yours. Mine.  

He shoves his free hand between your two bodies and finds your clit, circling it until he's found the right rhythm that has tears gathering in your eyes. He could live on that for the rest of his life, of hearing you mindlessly stuttering his name while your body tenses up and your head drops back and those pretty lips part in a choked moan— 

“Christ,” Simon grits through his teeth, sweat dampening his brow. Your cunt flutters around him, soft little flower in full bloom that, with another thrust or two, has him falling apart as well. 

Both of you moan at the feeling of his cum spurting hot and thick in your waiting womb. Simon rocks against you slowly to make sure you get every last drop—birth control or not. 

He kisses you on the comedown. You melt into his touch, butter and honey, running your fingers through his hair until Simon shifts you around so you're curled up against him. 

In another minute he'll get up and get you a washcloth before tucking you in and kissing your bare shoulders. He'll wrap himself around you before sleep takes you, make sure that he's the last thing you see and hear and touch. 

For now he lets himself bask in the present. In having a sweet little bird clinging to him for comfort and giving him more than he could ever ask for in return. 

Simon doesn't think you quite realise what you've gotten yourself into, in giving this big ugly watchdog your affection. He's not a king or a prince; not even a knight, not like the ones you read so much about. Simon wouldn't exactly call himself chivalrous or genteel. 

But he's just as devoted and twice as vicious. He'll belong to you, and you to him, and from the moment he saw you he was oath-bound. 

He'll have to steal a ring or two to measure which size is right. It'll take some work to knock down the walls between your two houses, but he'll ask the lads for help. Simon knows you'll win them over right away if you cook dinner or bake them something sweet. 

And maybe in time he'll have to try his own hand at baking. He always did want to put a bun in the oven, and Simon just knows that if you're the one to do it with him— 

It'll come out perfect. 

[audiovisualrecall]

Too hungry to cook dinner so sitting amd scrolling on my phone instead 🙃

[cupidsdolll]

The Feeling Came Late

Chapter One: When You’re Young, They Assume You Know Nothing

pairings: grumpy!college student!Harry x fem! sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter 1/? (wc: 3.3k)

- - - - - -

Y/N's always loved mornings, she loves being able to wake and watch the sun rise. She loves being able to listen to nature's song, the birds chirping, the different buzzing and humming of the insects and the various sounds of all the animals that stay around her house. She always wakes with a bright smile on her face and enthusiasm to start her day, she'll turn on her favorite playlist and sing along as she begins to start her day.

Y/N didn’t love this morning though, it started out differently than her normal morning started. It was different because she had stayed up much later than she should have trying to get some last minute studying in for a pop quiz, which caused her to wake with a slight frown and a loud huff as she shuts off the blaring beep coming from her alarm clock.

"I get it, I'm up. Now shut up." She mumbles as she tiredly rubs her eyes and sits up; she grabs the various sheets of paper strewn across the bottom half of her bed and stacks them as neatly as she can in a hurry on the wooden nightstand next to her bed. She sighs as she stretches her arms over her head and leans back some, feeling only slightly better as she feels her body loosening up.

She makes her bed, tucking the thick blanket underneath all of her pillows and making sure there's no wrinkles anywhere before grabbing her phone and clicking on the 'Music' app and clicking her morning playlist. She smiles as her favorite song begins to play as she walks over to her closet to pick out her outfit for the day. After several minutes of aimlessly searching through her clothes she settles on a knitted sweater, a brown tartan skirt, some white open toe sandals and a white tote bag.

She heads into her en suite bathroom and sets her outfit on the gray granite countertops before turning on the faucet and letting the water warm up. She hums along to the current song playing as she splashes the warm water on her face and dries her face slightly. She grabs her face wash and begins to do her daily morning routine, the small feeling of normalcy making her feel better already.

Once she's dressed, done her makeup and in a somewhat better mood, she heads into the kitchen while singing along to another one of her favorite songs and begins to grab a banana and some leftover oatmeal from the fridge. Making her way to the small dining room table, she sighs happily and sets the oatmeal down and begins to peel the banana and break it into small uneven pieces to eat in her oatmeal.

After eating everything, she washes the bowl and sits in the dish rack placed next to the sink and grabs her purse and her phone, putting all her essentials in the bag and walking to the front door. Smiling as she shuts off the living room light and closes the door behind her, she begins to make her way to the front of her apartment complex and towards the small bike rack, filled with various bikes of all sizes and colors.

- - - -

It takes her roughly less than twenty minutes when she reaches her university and sighs as she hops off her bike and ties it to the bike rack in front of her school. As she makes her way into the school, she stops as she notices a few new flowers on the side of the steps. As she makes her way over, she can feel her smile growing, the flowers are absolutely beautiful. They're a beautiful shade of pink carnations, the bright color popping against the stark bricks of the stairs and she quickly takes her phone as she snaps a picture of them.

"Leave it to the professionals, and move out my way." She hears a voice coming from somewhere behind her, she recognizes this voice. She could pick it out in a crowd and not because she likes it, but because it’s one of the only ones that can upset her. This voice throws out insults and mocks her, jeers at her for seemingly no reason, the one voice that she’ll never understand why it hates her so much.

She turns around with a frown already set on her face at the voice behind her. His long brown hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, a cotton white t-shirt paired with a pair of light wash denim jeans and a black leather jacket. His signature smirk is plastered on his face as two of his friends laugh and pat him on the back, he’s making his way towards her. For as long as she can remember she and Harry have been at each other's throats or more like he's been dead set on giving her absolute hell since the end of their high school while she ignores him.

"Shouldn't you be getting to class anyways, miss goody two shoes?" He asks and snickers as he purposely bumps into her shoulder as he passes as if there’s not plenty of room for him to walk, her frown deepens as she messes with her bag and makes her way to the entrance door. Just before she opens the door, she turns around and gives him a glare, a small smile slowly beginning to take over the frown.

"Oh you’re one to talk, Styles. At least, I’m not the one failing English! " She yells back before quickly walking in the door and heading to her first class of the day.

While she loves her classes, loves interacting with the teacher and adding her input in group discussions, the lack of her normal amount of sleep makes her brain unfocused and easily distracted. Her eyes flit across the room with every sound that occurs, she can't seem to sit still. She's fidgety, her hands play with the pen in her hands as if she's not supposed to be taking notes right now. She wishes she could be focused enough to take even the bare minimum of the notes on the board, she can't stay focused on anything for long before her attention is grabbed by something new.

Time seems to fly as she looks down at her bare page in the notebook; nothing written on it beside the title of her notes and she sighs. Quietly she leans over and asks the girl behind her if she can take a picture of her notes after class, she thanks her when the girl nods before going back to writing on her own paper.

A knock on the door grabs her attention as well as the sound of her fellow classmates whispering amongst each other, the scratching of the pencil of the girl next to her, and she watches the teacher make her way to the door. The clicking of her heels echo in the small classroom and finally her hand reaches for the door knob, the teacher begins to twist it and pull the door open. She can hear him before she sees him, his voice carrying through as he speaks.

"Mornin' Liz. How's my favorite girl?" She watches as the teacher rolls her eyes and swats his arm as he goes to give her a hug.

"You're late Mr. Styles. Have a seat." She says as she makes her way back to her desk and Harry chuckles as he opens the door fully, his emerald eyes scanning the room.

The only available seat is next to Y/N and he scowls. Briskly walking over to someone at the table furthest from her and asking to switch seats quietly, they shake their head and he sighs. He walks over to another table and asks to switch and in response he gets another no. Frowning, he walks over to Y/N's table and grabs the chair and moves it as far away as he can, mumbling a few words under his breath as he sits down.

Not bothering to pay attention, he lays his head down on the desk and closes his eyes. Allowing the outside noise to become faint murmurs, he bounces his leg quickly as he begins to drift to sleep.

"Can you stop please? You're shaking the table?" He huffs and rolls his eyes as he lifts his head.

"S'not bothering you." He says and she shakes her head gently.

"I'm trying to take notes." He scoffs as she points to her notebook.

"That doesn’t have shit to do with me though, does it? Gotta make sure you pass the exams, right? M'surprised you don't have it all memorized." He says dryly and lays his head back down. He can hear her sigh and the crinkling of the paper as she moves over some towards the opposite end of the table. He snickers softly to himself before closing his eyes once more.

He wakes up to the feeling of someone shaking his shoulder, it's soft, small and gentle as it shakes him. He groans as he sits up and stretches his arms over his head. When he turns he sees her standing next to him, her side of the desk cleaned up and the room’s silent.

"The fuck do you want?" He mumbles and frowns, he's never been on to be happy whenever he wakes up, especially grumpy because it’s her waking him up.

"Class is over, just figured you'd want to head wherever you need to go." She says, her voice soft and sweet and he frowns once more.

"Sure." He stands up and moves the chair back to its original position. He barely catches the sight of a small frown etched on her face before she leaves, he waits a couple of minutes before he's heading out the door and onto his next class. He doesn't care that she's upset, she lives in her own world and doesn't seem to grasp the fact that not everyone's as nice as she is or was raised with such manners, it's not his problem.

On the way to his next class, he hears his name being yelled from behind him. He turns around and sees the principal yelling and jogging his way.

"Harry! A moment please?!" He yells and Harry frowns. He knows what he wants to talk about, it can only mean one of two things, it's either his failed midterm or be found out that it's him graffitiing the various parts of the school walls and parking lots. He doubts that he knows about the graffitiing so it has to be the exam, and he just doesn’t want to talk about the exam with him at this point.

He shakes his head as he begins to walk opposite of the voice calling his name. He's never been one to care about time and his grades so he waits until the last minute and does just enough work for him to be at a D level.

"Harry Styles!" The voice booms and he huffs before turning around and grumpily begins the short trek to the principal.

"Yeah?" He says and crosses his arms, the principal nods shortly before asking Harry to follow him.

As Harry follows the older man into his office, he grumbles the whole time about how unfair and stupid all of this is. Passing by all the lockers and the small gaggle of students littering the halls as he walks, head held high and confidence is his walk because he can't be seen being embarrassed. It'd be the end of the world if that were to happen, not that he’s embarrassed about this in any way. He’s not.

When the principal opens the tall wooden door leading to his office, he steps aside to let Harry in and smiles as Harry mumbles a rough thank you in response. Harry immediately frowns when he sees the figure sitting in a chair in front of the desk, her fingers messing with her bag and her eyes seeming to stare a hole in the desk. Sitting behind his dark oak desk and opening up his laptop, the sound of clicking filling the room as he types.

"So, Harry, you know why I brought you here?" The older man asks and Harry nods.

"Think so, s'about the midterm right? And if so, I have some words. Knapick's crazy if she thinks that test was anywhere near suitable to give to us. I suggest you look into that." Harry says and the principal shakes his head, Y/N only lets out a soft scoff as if she doesn’t believe him.

The principal leans back and adjusts his glasses as he stares at Harry.

"No, Harry. It's just you I believe. Almost everyone else passed the exam with at least a C average if not better." Harry frowns at that and shakes his head.

"No way, the test is rigged I tell you. I knew Knapick never liked me. She's trying to fail me Oscar."

"No, you barely did effort. And if you wanna be able to graduate on time, I suggest you get a tutor." The principal says and Harry's frown deepens.

"No way."

"Yes, Harry. I'm serious. I'm trying to help. I can give you a list of our best tutors in the school but it’d be pointless on both of our parts, we both know you won’t take this seriously or you’ll just find a way to get them to give you the answers. I don’t want you wasting their time.

Harry shakes his head furiously, the ponytail slowly beginning to slip from the elastic's hold causing a few of his curls to frame his face.

"It's either you get the help you need or you're gonna be repeating, and I know you don’t want to ruin your little reputation by having to repeat." Harry huffs and rolls his eyes once more.

“I guess.” Harry says and the principal nods.

“Great! That’s where you come in Y/N. I know you’re real patient and won't fall for your game, Styles."

"No game. I just have the charm the ladies want, Oscar." Harry says and smirks - only briefly though, he absolutely hates the idea of spending any time with her; just being here in the same room for this short period of time is excruciating and annoying.

"But I don't want her, give me someone else."

"I'll see what I can do but I think she would be best. She’s already here, I don’t want to have to waste her time and I'm sure she works fast."

Y/N only sighs, it’s quiet and barely noticeable if Harry wasn’t already trying to stare a hole into her head.

“I can tutor him, sir. Only if he wants me to, which we all know he doesn’t.” She says and Harry huffs obnoxiously loud as he uncrosses his arms.

"She makes me want to tug my hair out." Y/N laughs to herself at this and Harry frowns again, he didn’t say anything funny.

"I’m sure she knows that. Have a good day Harry." Harry grumpily walks out of the office as fast as he can, eager to get away from her and her annoying voice, her eagerness to help, her unwavering kindness, and heads to his next class. He hears her calling after him, he doesn’t care about whatever she has to say. He hates the fact that he has to spend time with her, listen to her annoying voice and that he has to learn from her. He’s already late of course so once he’s out of the office and doesn’t have to worry about her chasing him down he slows down, walks slowly because quite frankly he doesn’t care about this class. His thoughts become a chant of how much Y/N annoys him and why she has to be so smart. If he had to be paired with her, he'd make it the worst tutor session ever. He's really gonna make her life hell, and he’s really gonna have the best time doing so.

Harry doesn’t share many classes with Y/N thankfully, but he absolutely loathes the few classes he does share with her. He hates watching her take notes in her stupid notebook, and listening to her answer any questions the teacher has and adding her own input or asking a question about whatever the teacher is talking about. When he walks into his next class, about ten minutes late because of his purposefully slow walking and sees her sitting in the front row with her notebook about and all of her colored pens and pencil laid onto her desk he immediately frowns.

Her presence just irritates him to no end, having to watch her be on top of her game all the time just doesn’t make sense to him. He doesn’t get how she’s able to do it all without wavering or failing. Either way, it just fucking irritates him. He walks to his seat towards the middle, the teacher refuses to let him sit in the back because he won’t do anything other than be on his phone. He can feel her gaze on him which only frustrates him more so he stares straight ahead, purposefully ignoring her. There’s nothing for them to talk about anymore, he just needs to get what he needs from her with no other complications or distractions.

The class drags by slowly and Harry still can't seem to shake the feeling of her eyes on him, so he just lays his head onto his desk in hopes that it’ll make the time go by faster. He can’t help but to bounce his leg as the teacher drones on about something related to History he thinks, and quite frankly he just doesn’t care. He just wants to be done, to be out of the room. He knows that he could easily just walk out and be done with this class for the day, but that won’t do him any good. He’s going to have to come back and grab his assignments if he’s assigned any and he’s going to have to come back tomorrow and suffer through.

Finally the teacher dismisses the class for the day and Harry’s one of the first ones out, or he would be one of the first one’s out if Y/N hadn’t called his name and caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder. He jerks it off roughly and turns around.

“Leave me alone. It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to deal with you for God knows how long with these stupid tutoring sessions, make both of lives easier and just fucking write down the answers to anything and give it to me.” He says, ready for this encounter to be over with. She shakes her head firmly, a frown beginning to form on her face.

“I agreed to tutor you, I’m not just going to give out the answers. I need your number so I can communicate with you,” She says with a roll of her eyes and Harry can’t help but to feel a small sense of pride and enjoyment at irritating her, to be the reason she frowns and rolls her eyes.

“You don’t need my number, just give me the answers and all of this will be done and over with. I’m not giving it to you anyways.” He says with a huff, here she goes again wanting to fix him. She wants to help him and allows her kindness to seep through even though he’s the last one she should be treating with kindness, he doesn’t want her kindness. She huffs once again and Harry can only smile briefly before he remembers why they’re even having a conversation to begin with.

“Fine, be stubborn if you want to. I’m not going to allow you to stress me out.” She says and walks past him, and because he takes joy in annoying her he makes sure to walk along with her only to bump into her before laughing and turning around.

He’s definitely going to have a lot of fun with this.

[psychickiss]

crepe with extra feelings

— saiki kusuo x reader (no 3rd person pronouns, 2nd pov)

— summary: After a disastrous Home Economics class, Saiki receives a sweet treat from you.

— notes: i feel like i have to say everytime that my fics arent beta read. i kind of just trust my gut on this (not this time though) also this is in season 1 episode 20 (chapter 98)

— things: i made the reader pretty casual with their feelings for saiki soo you could take this as romantic or platonic

— masterlist | request form | retrospring

“Psst. Saiki. Don’t go yet.”

Saiki anticipated your calling out to him. He had heard your thoughts as the both of you watched your other classmates exit the room. Normally, he would’ve been one of the first to go, but he felt compelled to stay and hear out whatever it is you had to say.

Now, Saiki turns to you, eyebrow raised. He knows you made him an extra crepe. However, he’s seen the ones Nendou made, if you give him savory crepes too–

You hold out the crepe to him without a word. Whipped cream, banana slices, and chocolate syrup (both white and milk chocolate).

“My group and I didn’t have much, err, ingredients to work with for the filling. Plus, we had leftover batter. It does taste good though, if I must say.”

You glance to the side for a second and think, I’d eat the leftover batter but that just sounds like a thing one can only do at home. Also, you seem disappointed that the ones Nendou made had tuna in it. You quickly look back at him with a small smile.

Saiki’s eyes light up as he takes the crepe.

You remove your apron. “I’m not a good cook, or baker,” you declare. “But I do enjoy following recipes. I hope you like the crepe.”

Saiki takes a bite of the crepe and smiles. It’s decided. You’re no longer a nuisance. It’s not like you were much of a nuisance from the start, anyway. He says to you, “Thanks for the crepe.”, although his words were a bit muffled. You figure it was the crepe’s interference.

You reply happily as well, “You’re welcome. You could eat that on the way back to class, y’know?”

Saiki nods, and the two of you walk out of the room together.

“You aren’t going to take off your apron?”

“I’ll do it affer I finish the crepe. It’s good, by the way. Just the right amount of sweetness.”

You sigh in relief. “I’m so glad you like it! I made it myself, actually! I’m so relieved to hear you like it, really.”

Saiki nods at you, too busy eating to verbally respond.

You two enter the classroom, and are quickly approached by Nendou, Kaidou, and Aren. You don’t notice the way Saiki stops eating the crepe to grimace at his friends.

“Saiki! Where’d you get that crepe from?”

Saiki points to you as the source and you awkwardly smile at the guys. “Yep... My group had extra batter.”

“Why not make one for yourself?” Asks Aren. Saiki looks at you, he’s hoping your response wouldn’t be something that affirms whatever romance-related thought Aren is thinking.

“Eh... I don’t really like crepes... I don’t know if any of you liked crepes, too...”

Saiki hears Aren’s thoughts, as well as Kaidou’s thoughts. Good grief. Kaidou hasn’t picked up on what Kuboyasu’s thinking but those two gossip a lot... I need to stop this.

Kaidou purses his lips, the same romance-related thoughts brewing in his head. “How are you sure Saiki would want one?”

“He was dressed immediately when he heard we’d be making crepes. Plus, we’re friends.” You cross your arms. “There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

Saiki subtly smiles. Nice one.

“Even if it wasn’t a platonic crepe,” Nendou grins, “you and my pal would make a nice couple!”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay. Excuse us, now. We’d like to return to our seats.” You quietly think to yourself, I wouldn’t mind that, though.

Saiki silently finishes the crepe and throws the wrapper away in a nearby trash can before removing his apron. He walks toward his seat and watches as you go tuck your apron away.

You catch Saiki looking at you and smile. “So? How was the crepe?” You ask before sitting down.

“It was nice. Thank you, again.”

“You’re welcome. I’d be willing to make you a crepe again sometime, just say the word. Or...” You drag on that last word, and Saiki pretends he doesn’t hear the slight panic in your inner voice.

Do I go for it? Am I asking Saiki to go out? I don’t even like him like that! We’re not even that close to the point we can hang out one-on-one. Ugh, he’s waiting for me to finish my sentence. Just say it!

“Or... I could just take you out to some place that sells crepes? They’d probably make it far better than I do.”

Saiki hums. “I wouldn’t mind doing that with you. While it’s possible that crepes done by professionals would be better than by students like us, I’d appreciate it more if you were the one to prepare the crepe.”

Saiki’s words catch you off-guard for a second. “Oh–! Does... Does that mean you’ll go with me, though? A friend of mine showed me a place with all kinds of sweets, like crepes and coffee jelly–”

“I’m free today. We can go after school.”

“Oh? That’s great!”

[trashmouth-richie]

eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

-

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

-

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

-

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

-

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

-

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

-

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

-

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

-

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

-

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

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This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

[carolmunson]

it's like sugar sometimes.

(older!modern!dad!eddie)

welcome back to the: orange colored sky setlist a/n: this can be read as a stand alone, give or take some references. but as a pre-cursor: you and eddie are about twelve years apart, meeting in late twenties early thirties, his late thirties early forties. you're deeply in love and we're fast forwarding a bit and now you have a kid. shout out to my nephew because without countless videos of him being the same age as the baby in this fic i would not now how babies baby. cw: pure fluff. pure dad eddie goodness. pretty tame. some mild arguing and swearing. some saucy kisses at the end. a new entry for the fall frenzy extravaganza. this fall frenzy is in honor of @jo-harrington who said i could do whatever, so here we are lmao.

songspiration: how sweet it is (to be loved by you) | james taylor

The ride to the orchard is going much better than you were expecting after such a rough morning. Tears from the moment Gwen came into your room just before four in the morning because she had a bad dream. Then it was too hot for her in bed with both of you, then she was too cold, then Ed’s snoring kept you both awake until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Then there was the kicking and stretching and rolling around. Aren’t they supposed to sleep like logs? She just turned three. Ed woke up refreshed, frowning when he turned over to see you sitting up against the headboard reading with puffy tired eyes. “Hey,” he says softly as to not wake Gwen who was curled up into his side, “She come in last night?” “Another bad dream,” you shrug, looking at him over your book, “I don’t know if she’s really having them or if she’s just starting to have a little regression period. Maybe we can get her a new night light or something.” “Why don’t you try to go back to sleep for a little and I’ll get her ready,” he asks, voice still raspy from sleep, “I’ll just take her into the shower with me.” You smile lazily at him and nod, looking over at the clock on his night stand – a little past six. Maybe an extra forty-five would do you some good before you went to the orchards upstate. Gwen’s eyes open up to her dad awake, her face contorting when she sees him. “Had a bad dweam,” she sniffles, reaching her arms out. “Poor Gwen, you had a bad dream?” Eddie coos, pulling her up out of bed with him, “Tell me all about it, angel.” Her babbles echo down the hall even after Ed closes the door behind them.

Piercing sobs woke you up instead of your alarm, though that went off right after to remind you that there’s a whole day you have to start. You rub your eyes and groan, sliding out of bed and stepping into your slippers. You grab your robe, shrugging it on as you leave the bedroom and wincing while another cry pours out of your toddler and goes straight to your chest. “I know, honey, I know,” you hear Eddie soothe, “But we’re gonna go do something so fun. You wanna go pick a pumpkin, right?” “No pumpki-i-in,” she sobs, deep and guttural. You open the door to her room slowly, a very teary Gwen stands in the corner, hair wet in a new set of pajamas. You look at Eddie, pulling out an outfit for her and laying it on her toddler bed. “What’s goin’ on, in here?” you ask gently. “Gwen doesn’t wanna get dressed to go apple picking,” Eddie says quietly, “She wants to watch Blue’s Clues.” “Wan’ see Bl-blue, mommy,” she sobs, “Pwease.” “Hey, hey,” you try your best to settle her, “Thank you for saying please, honey. We can still see Blue but daddy has to get you dressed first.” “Did she eat?” you ask, pulling Gwen up to your hip while she cries into your shoulder. “Yeah, she had some mini waffles and a banana,” he opens her closet and fishes out a tiny pair of Chuck’s to go with her outfit – a little black sweatshirt screen printed with the Halloween movie poster paired with a set of leggings meant to look like jeans. “Did you eat?” you smile, coming over to him to plant a kiss on the cheek. “Yeah, her leftovers,” he laughs, “There’s a cup of coffee waiting for you on the counter.” “Thank you,” you nudge him, feeling Gwen squirm and whine while she tries to shimmy down from your hip, “Okay, okay.” “Gwen, please,” Eddie begs with a twinge of frustration in his voice when she makes it to the door, on her tiptoes to reach the handle, “Let’s just get you dressed and you can watch Blue’s Clues while we do your hair.” She stomps, wet curls bouncing with her when she does, “Wanna watch now, pwease!” “Thank you for asking nicely Gwen, but that doesn’t always mean you get your way,” he explains. She shrieks, loud enough that your eyes squint, stomping again onto the fluffy white carpet below her, “I wanna watch Blue’s Cwue’s!” “Why don’t you take a deep breath for me, huh?” Eddie asks her, he pats your lower back on the way to the door. A silent way of letting you know to just go get yourself ready, he can handle the rest, “Do we need to take a time out?” “No time out,” she starts to cry again when you slip out of the room. More frustrated whines and wails boom down the hall, dissipating while you make it down the metal staircase to the coffee on the counter. Your heart swells when you notice that he already emptied and reloaded the dishwasher. 

After you’ve packed some snacks for later and gotten yourself dressed, you make your way back upstairs. You approach the bathroom with your coffee in hand, Gwen’s sippy cup full of water in the other. Her bubbly squeals respond back to whoever is talking to her, barely looking up from Eddie’s phone to look at you when you open the door. 

“Who’re you talking to, miss girl?” you ask, putting her sippy cup next to her on the bathroom counter. “Steeb,” she says, eyes glued to the screen, much happier than she was before. “She’s watching 90s Blue’s Clues?” you laugh at your husband who’s busy splitting her Gwen’s hair into a middle part, looking in the mirror that she’s sat in front of. “No, she’s FaceTiming with Steve,” he shakes his head, pulling one section back into a high pigtail. “Hi peach!” Steve’s voice rings from the phone, he lowers it back down to parentese to address Gwen, “Is that mommy? Can you say hi to her for me?”  “Steeb say hi,” Gwen says, lifting the phone up, showing the screen to the ceiling of the bathroom. You take the phone for a second, seeing Steve’s annoyed face in the frame. 

“You’re on thin ice,” he says, his fiancee’s laugh ringing out of frame, “I can’t believe you’re going this week when we’ll be there in two. You always go before we come to visit.” “There will be plenty of apple picking trips to do together when we move, I promise,” you assure, “She starts gymnastics and swimming next weekend, we won’t have another time to do it.” 

“Gymnastics?” he asks, “Does she have tights? Leotards? What can I get her?” 

“She has like, I don’t know Steve – forty leotards? She’s gonna grow out of half of them in six weeks,” you explain, “Don’t worry, your husband got it covered.” Eddie snickers, wrapping an elastic around one of the ponytails in his fingers. “Well if she’s gonna grow out of them then she’ll need more,” he scoffs, “I’ll get some sent over.” 

“You’re impossible,” your eye roll is something Steve is just as used to as Eddie is. Gwen whines again, reaching for the phone with grabby hands, a quiet ‘Steeby’ escaping her. “I can hear her asking for me, gimme back to my girl,” he sighs. You hand the phone back to Gwen who giggles when Steve makes a funny face at her through the screen. “Look how pretty those ponytails are. Daddy did such a good job,” Steve coos at her. “We payin’ be-yoo-dee sawon,” Gwen explains. Eddie looks up at you, whispering ‘Can you grab her bows for me?’ You nod, reaching into the bottom drawer to snatch a basket full of bows, holding them out to him while he picks. 

“Beauty salon,” Eddie corrects softly, “Orange or black bows?”  “Bwack,” she says, waving him off like you do when you’re busy, “I’m on da phone, daddy.” “Yeah,” you say, meeting her sass, “She’s on the phone, daddy.”

He lets a ‘pfff’ push out of his lips while he grabs two black bows from last halloween, little sparkly spider webs parked in the center. You leave them to it, heading down to get the car packed up and make sure you have Gwen’s bag set up before you leave. 

Despite the dramatics, the ride is going well. Gwen happily eats an apple sauce packet in her carseat while the two of you sip on coffees and eat breakfast sandwiches from a drive thru off the highway. It’s nice to get out of the city for a while and get Gwen used to the idea of not being in it anymore. The drive consists mostly of James Taylor’s greatest hits because Gwen is her Grandpa Wayne’s baby before she’s anyone else’s. She hums along to Carolina and sings only the chorus of Mexico. Her favorite song is Mockingbird even though it’s Carly Simon featuring James Taylor. The two of you throw it on the record player every other day to sing it to her, even if she doesn’t ask for it. It’s selfishly your favorite song, too, just ‘cause you get to see your husband play along with you. “And if that better way ain't so, I'll ride with the tide and go with the flow, And that's why, I keep on shoutin' in your ear, Saying (yeah, yeah) whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-oh.” You lean your head back on the passenger’s side to make eye contact with Gwen through the visor mirror who giggles back at you. She mimics your ‘whoa-whoa-whoa’, shimmying in her carseat with her shoulders. Gwen’s no stranger to shimmying, always finding some way to dance off beat to Ed’s music when he plays at a venue she can be at or practices at home. His number one fan. 

“Oh-wange twees, mommy,” Gwen says, tiny finger pointing out the window at the foliage lining the road. “I see them, aren’t they pretty Gwen?” you nod back at her. Eddie’s head turns slightly to watch her watch the trees, eyes shining at each change of color hits her. His heart beats a little quicker knowing she’s able to make those distinctions between orange, red, and yellow – too smart, getting too big. “Daddy’s git-tah,” she yelps, pointing hard at a tree covered in dark red leaves while Eddie slowly turns down the entrance of the orchard. Gwen lets out a tiny ‘woah’ when the car jostles that makes him laugh, he wishes she’d stay this little forever. “Yeah, that’s the same color as daddy’s guitar, good job sweetheart,” he smiles back at her, “Are you ready to pick some apples so we can make Uncle Stevie a pie for when he visits?” “Ya!” She nods, happy and excited. She doesn’t know what he said, but whenever he talks to her with a smile she’ll do whatever he asks and vice versa. Still ‘sort of rockstar’, definitely ‘meant to be father’. Parking is less of a nightmare than expected since it’s early in the day – most families come after the first morning nap, at least that’s what the mom groups told you on Facebook. Gwen hardly naps anymore, but you won’t be surprised if she knocks out earlier than usual tonight. Eddie gets the backpack full of Gwen’s essentials and you grab the baby. “I have to carry you through the parking lot, babe,” you say when she starts to bounce in your arms, eager to run on the grass in her sneakers. “Wanna walk, please,” she begs, her hands on your cheeks while you make your way towards the entrance. “You can walk when we get inside but there’s lots of cars out here and no stop lights,” you say, batting her hand out of your hair when she reaches for it, “I’ll put you down in a little bit.” “You think we should take the stroller?” Ed asks from the trunk. “They have wagons, we can just pull her around,” you shrug, “I don’t think the back up stroller is good for this kind of place, we’d need the one at home.” Eddie shrugs, joining you on your walk to the entrance to get your empty bag and your wagon, putting Gwen at the back as you get to the trees. “Walk, please,” she begs again. You hesitate, it’s just too big of a place and she’s a runner, “Honey, I would love it if you–” “Let her walk,” Eddie says, “She’ll get bored after a few minutes and wanna watch anyway, just let her walk.” “Come here Gwen, hold my hand,” he says, offering a tattooed hand to her pudgy one. She clumsily crawls out of the wagon, bouncing over to her dad to put her hand in his. He pulls her up once, making her squeal and giggle as she floats next to him. “More, more!” she laughs, letting Eddie swing her ahead a few more times while you all make your way through the trees. 

She likes apple picking more than you expected, arms up constantly to be lifted onto the branches to grab some off of every few trees. Gwen had a good eye, better than you and Eddie, for super crisp ones – pointing up and jumping to get at them. If she was a little bigger you wouldn’t be surprised if she climbed up the trees with the ease of a jungle cat. Your husband encouraged it, climbing up the branches like he was still twenty – sitting with his legs dangling off and having you pass your toddler to him. “Please be careful,” you warn, passing her up to him. “Babe, I know what I’m doing,” he scowls, a hint annoyed before changing his expression for Gwen when he helps her onto the low branch with him. “You don’t have to be a jerk, I just want her to be safe,” you snap back. “And I’m keeping her safe,” he says with a smile as to keep your daughter none-the-wiser. Still looking at Gwen while she reaches for another apple. She hands it to Eddie who hands it to you, your fingers brush. “Sorry,” he says, looking down at you, “I’ll be careful. We’re not very high, but you’re right. I’ll be careful.” “Thank you,” you nod, taking the apple and pressing a ghost of a kiss to his knuckles. He blushes red, red, red. Red like the leaves, red like his guitar. “Why s’pink, daddy?” Gwen asks, passing him another apple. “I just love mommy very much, honey,” he smiles, pressing a kiss into her hair, “She makes me turn pink like a heart.” “Like on da phone,” she says, clinging to him like a koala when he slides down off the low branch with her. “Yes, like on the phone,” he nods. You’re not Peach 🍑 in his phone anymore. You’re The Wife 💗. Right now he’s Gwen’s Dad in your phone because you got in an argument two months ago and haven’t changed it back to Rockstar Husband 🎸❣️because ‘Gwen’s Dad’ makes you laugh too much. He hates it. “How you like them apples, G?” you ask when Eddie puts her down in the wagon, she looks up at you confused and shrugs; brown curly pigtails bouncing at she does. “Kids today,” you shake your head at Eddie while you press onward, “No culture.” 

“No culture,” he agrees enthusiastically. 

You peruse, the bags you bought are filled to the brim with apples. Some red, some green, a few yellow so Gwen can try them and see if she likes them. It’s a calming walk, the chatter of other families, the squeaky roll of the wagon, the rustle of the trees when the early autumn wind catches them. Eddie holds your hand loosely, always needing to keep touching you in some way, always wanting to keep you close to him. You look back, Gwen going between looking around at the other families and playing with her V-Tech phone. Eddie goes from walking slow to speeding up to make the wagon jostle just to hear Gwen’s giggles peal through the trees. After about an hour of walking and picking, you’re about as pooped as your toddler should be. Once you get to the tree line you see the farm and market down at the base of the hill, a little relieved that you’ve all made it to the end of the road unscathed. 

That is, until Gwen climbs out of the wagon when it comes to a stop and without warning, books it towards the edge. 

“Gwendolyn Rose!” Eddie’s call is rough and loud out of fear, but it sounds like anger. Gwen stops short, startled, falling backwards onto the seat of her leggings. Like clockwork the first whine starts, building up into a needy, sad wail. You know they’re crocodile tears so you keep your pace with the wagon behind you. Your husband however, despite the constant reminder that she knows he’s easy, rushes forward without a second thought. “Oh no, my baby girl, shh, shh. I’m sorry,” he coos, reaching down to hoist her up onto his hip, “I didn’t mean to yell, sugar. You just got daddy scared is all. I’m not mad.” Gwen wipes her face, pushing away tears that never fell, sniffling and hiding her face in his neck. He rubs her back while she settles, guilt tugging on the lines between his brows. 

“No baby girl,” Gwen pouts, “I’m big girl.” 

“Oh that’s right, you’re my big girl,” Eddie grins, kissing her cheek. She’s not amused, frowning down at him while she pushes up against his shoulder to squirm out of his hold. “That’s a very grumpy face, Gwenny,” you giggle.  “Hey, are you mad at me?” he asks up at her before popping her back down onto her feet at the edge of the tree line, “Why’re you lookin’ so mad?” 

“I’m big,” she announces, little foot stomping on the grass below her. Eddie lets a sigh out through his nose and kneels down to her level. She takes several deep breaths and you both know it’s the beginning of what could be a very long second tantrum of the day. “I know, you’re a very big girl,” he nods, “But what do mommy and daddy say you have to do when we don’t have you in the stroller?” “Hode hands,” she repeats back in a whine. “That’s right, we hold hands – and if we’re not holding your hand you’re supposed to stay close, right?” He watches her nod, tucking a finger under her chin to make sure she’s absorbing what he’s saying. Her lower lip juts out, cheeks puffing while her shoulders sulk. “I walk by - by mysewf,” she urges, sniffling, “Pwease.” “Not today, sugar. I’m sorry,” he sighs, cupping her cheek in his palm, “I have a fun idea, do you wanna get on daddy’s shoulders and you can tell us how far we are from the farm?” She brightens up a little, giggling when he reaches down to tickle her sides before scooping her up to lift over his shoulders. He groans the way old men groan when they lift something and you stifle a laugh, smiling up at Gwen when she smiles down at you. “Hi mommy,” she beams, waving her tiny hand.  “Hi baby,” wave back lazily, the shoddy sleep you had last night starting to settle into your eyes. “Do you see the farm, Gwenny?” Eddie asks, she nods enthusiastically, “Maybe we can go get you a donut, how does that sound? Will that make you happy?”

“Ed,” you click your tongue, “She’s never gonna get to sleep later.” “We’re making memories, babe,” Eddie says, reaching up to hold Gwen’s hands to keep her steady, “Some extra sugar won’t hurt her.” 

“Yeah, you love extra sugar, don’t you?” you laugh. 

“Matter of fact, I do,” he smirks, shooting you a wink. He laughs when he sees two of those twelve foot Home Depot skeletons posed outside the front of the market, promoting their haunted hayride with signs and other silly decor, “Shit, that’s fuckin’ metal – s’ridiculous.” 

“S’dic-yoo-liss,” Gwen repeats. “S’ridiculous, Gwennifer!” Eddie repeats back in concurrence. “Sss’tick-you-luss,” she bounces, laughing when he laughs. They have the same one, though his has years on hers, gruff with age, with cigarette stains. 

Pumpkins get picked, warm donuts devoured, the morning finally feels like it’s coming to a close. You park Gwen down at a picnic table while Eddie goes to get the goods, hanging out with your threenager who can barely keep her eyes open. You’re thankful you still have the wagon because there was no way you’d be able to carry all of it back to the car. Caramel apples, cider donuts, three gallons of apple cider, honey sticks, pumpkin pie, and anything else Eddie thought was good enough to bring home for the season weight heavy in the brown paper bags in his arms. He comes back sheepishly, biting his lower lip when you look at the bags and then at him. 

“Hm,” you hum pointedly. 

“I just really like fall flavors, peach,” he shrugs, “And the old lady at the front was so sweet telling me about the deals I couldn’t not get everything.” “You’re such a sucker,” you laugh with a roll of your eyes, “You ready to head out?” He nods, ticking his forehead at Gwen whose cheek is smushed against your chest, eyelashes brushing the tops of her cheeks, “Looks like this pumpkin’s ready to go.” 

“She’s out,” you say softly, brushing her hair away from her face, “Lasted five minutes on my lap.” 

“Let me get a picture to send to Steve,” he says low enough that it doesn’t wake her, “The background is perfect.” “Ed you have a thousand pictures of her from today,” you complain. “Shh, shh, come on,” he smiles, taking out his phone – you know he’s only snapping Gwen by the way he lowers the camera to your lap. He puts the bags in the wagon while you slowly stand with her wrapped around your front. You wait at the entrance for him to pull the car around, leaving the wagon behind. She doesn’t wake up when you pop her back in the car seat, slowly rolling out of the parking lot with the rest of the afternoon in your wake. 

“I got her a little gourd painting kit, somewhere in those bags,” he says, “She can make some decorations.”  “Oh she’ll love that,” you nod, peeking at her sleeping face in the visor mirror again, “I’ll do it with her before dinner.”

He pulls in slowly at a stop sign, hand reaching out to snake into yours, pulling it to his lips to bless you with soft kisses on the back of your hand.

“Thanks for such a good day, baby,” he murmurs.

“You’re very welcome.” 

Later on, just before dinner, Eddie hears a tiny knock on his office door paired with two giggles from his favorite girls. 

“Yes?” he calls out. The door creeps open and he hears you whisper, ‘Ask ‘Are you busy, daddy?’ 

“You busy, daddy?” Gwen pipes up. He shuts his computer, moving away from the two additional screens. “No, honey, never too busy for you,” he smiles, creases by his eyes showing up through his glasses, “Do you have something to show me?” 

“Yeah,” she nods, pulling on your hand to pull you into the room. He uses the same candles he always has, deep spice, like his cologne. Warm like the way he holds you. Still in his hunter green Dickie’s overalls from this morning. 

You give Gwen her little pumpkin that she painted to present to her dad, beaming with excitement while he looks it over. 

“Such a good job, Gwenny,” he coos, “Are these –” 

“I did bats,” she grins, finger touching the sparkly black sort of bats adorning the outside. Covered in glitter and sequins, falling onto his office floor. 

“You did bats? For Halloween?” he asks. You shake your head no, smiling big when Gwen goes on to explain. 

“No cause, daddy, cause you have bats,” she hurriedly explains, “Issa daddy pum-kin.” She reaches to his left arm, pointing at the bat tattoos on the inside when he was a kid. She runs her finger over them, “See, bats like daddy.” 

“That’s so sweet, honey,” he coos, “Is it for me?” “Yeah,” she squeaks, “For here.” “For your office,” you say for her, trying not to giggle when his eyes shine with tears. She could give him a piece of trash and he’d cry over it, “‘Cause you have so many Halloween decorations in here.” He laughs, looking around at all the tour posters he has from bands he’s seen over the years – to a three year old they probably are a little scary. “And what did you say it was when you were done, Gwen?” you ask, “What did you say daddy would think the pumpkin was?” “Fucking med-oh,” she giggles. “Oh my god,” he sighs, thumb and forefinger immediately going to temples. “Fucking metal,” you repeat back him, knowingly, “Wonder where she got that.”

He tries not to laugh when he looks down at Gwen, “Don’t say that word, baby, that’s a bad word.” “Sowwy,” she whispers. “It’s okay, you didn’t know,” he grins, pulling her in to kiss her all over. She shrieks the way babies shriek when they’re excited and runs out of the office toward her bedroom at the end of the hall. You turn to go after her before feeling Eddie’s hand on your shoulder. “Hey,” he says quietly in your ear, you shiver, “Remember when you said I like a little extra sugar?” 

Your cheeks burn hot, turning to him, “I do.” He leans in slow, lips capturing yours in a way that they only do when you both get to be alone, “Don’t forget to keep givin’ me some.” “I won’t,” you murmur back, letting him kiss you deeply one more time before pressing a slow kiss to your favorite place under the hinge of your jaw, “You’re bold, Munson.” He shrugs, breaking away, “Needed somethin’ sweet.” 

As if he isn't sweet enough. Eddie spends the rest of the night looking up ways to preserve a painted gourd. 

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[all-too-random]

We Don't Waste Food

Sanji Vinsmoke (OPLA) x reader

Sanji notices that you haven't been eating very much.

TW: Reader is implied to be in the process of recovering from an ED. The type/reasoning behind it has purposefully been left vague. Mentions of thr0wing up/feeling sick. Sanji wants to help but may do so in a way that not everyone finds helpful. Also he's kind of pushy in the beginning.

A/N: This is a very self indulgent fic based on my own struggles. If it is something you relate to and this helps, I am glad you found some comfort in it/sorry you relate. If you dont, please be kind anyway :) Also this is my first ever x reader fic in 7 years of writing fanfiction.

"I'm full," the sound glass scraping against wood rang throughout the dining cabin as you pushed your plate out of the way, glancing nervously at your lap, "Anyone who wants my leftovers can have them." Luffy reached across the table, already grabbing for the food on the plate. Sanji's hand reached it first, though, and the blonde chef made eye contact with you as he pushed the plate back to your spot. "Y/N, darling," he said. He was smiling, but his stare portrayed a more serious expression, "We don't waste food." You crossed your arms over your chest, your eyes meeting his blue ones, "I'm not trying to be wasteful, that's why I offered it up. I knew someone would want-" He cut you off, smile disappearing, "You need to eat it yourself. It's your favorite, I made it just for you." You nodded once, acknowledging the effort he put in, "And it was delicious. But now I'm full." There was a certain bitterness to your words, causing Sanji to hesitate. The rest of the crew looked on silently, exchanging nervous glances at one another as the scene played out. You barely paid them any notice, keeping your eyes locked on Sanji as you shoved yourself away from the table and stood up. "We don't waste food. So someone else can eat it, I'm not going to."

Your boots thudded against the wooden floor of the ship as you stomped away, suddenly feeling the need for fresh air. You didn't stop until you were at the edge of the deck. The wind whipped your hair around and you watched the sky turn orange against the clear water as the sun set on the horizon. Tears pricked at your eyes. They rolled over your cheeks despite your attempts to sniff them away, so you gave up. You were alone, anyway. No reason to hide your tears out here. They just didn't get it, you thought. Although it's not like you had ever tried explaining it to them before. You never meant to waste food. You just couldn't stop it. No matter how hungry you felt beforehand, your appetite seemed to wither the second food was in front of you. More than half a portion made you feel sick, and throwing your meals up into the sea felt worse than just offering it to someone who would it eat.

"Nice evening, isn't it madam?" You whipped your head around, quickly trying to wipe the tears from your face. Sanji stood several feet behind you, smiling once again, but still with a grim aire about him. "Yes, it is," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady as you turned back towards the ocean, "Very peaceful." You could hear the heels of the chef's shoes clicking against the wood until he appeared right next to you, resting his elbows on the edge of the ship. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him looking at you, studying your features. "I'm still not hungry," you told him, and you couldn't decide whether or not it was a lie. You were hungry, or at least, you should be. But you knew no more food would stay in your stomach for long. Sanji chuckled, dipping his head down, "Well, I gathered that much, love. I just can't figure out why. Only a banana for breakfast and nothing at lunch, by all means, you should be starving." You looked at him, eyebrows crinkled in confusion, "You know what I ate?" "I keep track," he says, shrugging his shoulders, "Helps me with my meal planning. I thought for sure you'd have a good dinner tonight, especially since I made something I knew you'd love." "I did love it," you admitted to him, sighing into the wind, "I just... don't eat much. It's hard." "Hard to eat?" He raised an eyebrow at you, "It shouldn't be, we have plenty of-" "Not like that," you cut him off, waving your hand through the air, "I know we have food, I just can never hold much of it. When I was younger, I forced myself not to eat... and I must have gotten good at it, because now I can't. And I hate it, because I get so hungry only to push food away, and I feel so wasteful." You could feel tears threatening to fall again, so you laughed, trying to act like there was nothing upsetting about the situation whatsoever. Sanji, however, did not laugh. He looked at you with sad eyes, which was even more intense since the wind was pushing his hair out of his face, meaning you could see both of them. It was quiet for a moment, with no noise but the waves lapping at the bottom ship. Then, the chef let out a sigh, opening his arms. You fell into him, burying your face into his pin-striped shirt. His strong arms immediately wrapped around you, his chin resting gently atop your head. "Thank you for telling me," he said quietly, placing a kiss against your hair, "I'm sorry I pushed you so hard." "It's alright," you whispered back, allowing yourself to cry on him, "You didn't know." He squeezed you tighter, "Well, now that I do know, I'm still worried about you. The way you've been eating still isn't healthy. I'll start giving you smaller portions, so you don't have to feel wasteful. And when you're ready, I'll gradually give you more. Like baby steps. Can you agree to that, my dear?" Pain shot through the inside of your cheek as you bit down, thinking his words over. Recovery was hard, but Sanji was willing to help.... You nodded your head, accepting the offer, "Little, tiny baby steps." Sanji laughed softly, running his fingers through your hair, "Sure, little, tiny baby steps. Whatever it takes, love. Would dessert be a good start?" He raised an eyebrow at you, and you laughed, "Well, that depends... what kind of dessert?"

[saetoshi]

there’s an unusual tranquility in his home. that’s the first thing nanami kento notices as soon as he steps through the front door.

it’s unsettling, almost—the silence. he’s used to you waiting for him by the door when he comes back from work, a tv show or a song playing in the background. it’s the highlight of his day, really. (seeing your sleeping face when he wakes up is a close second, though).

he sets his briefcase down on the floor, a tired sigh leaving his lips as he takes his shoes off. he’s hanging his jacket on the coat hanger when he smells something burning.

and then it’s almost like second nature—he sprints into the kitchen, a furrow to his brows that only comes from worry. the sight makes his heart ache.

he gently approaches you, crouching down next to you on the floor. he’s able to deduce what happened—the tears in your eyes; the faint traces of flour on the counters; the scent of burnt pastries.

but he still wants to know it from you.

so, he gently takes your hand, lifting it up to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. his heart breaks a little when he hears you sniffle. another kiss is pressed against the back of your hand.

he rubs his thumb over your knuckles, warmth flooding through his veins when you sidle closer to him.

“what’s wrong, my dear?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

a tear rolls down your cheek, quickly followed by another. and another. nanami scoops you into his arms as soon as you starts crying, kissing the top of your head.

he runs soothing circles on the small of your back until you’ve calmed down. he kisses your forehead when he feels you clutch the front of his shirt.

“i wanted to bake something for you,” you croak, replying to his earlier question. you sniffle, your lips trembling.

he patiently waits to see if you elaborate further. he kisses the top of your head again when you don’t.

“and it went wrong?” he gently asks, brushing away the faint trace of flour from your forearm.

“very wrong,” you reply, your voice cracking at the end. you rest your head on his shoulder, your hands playing with his tie.

“i wanted to have it done by the time you got home,” you softly add, twisting the end of his tie. a small smile tugs at your lips, your fingers delicately turning the piece of fabric.

nanami hums in thought, gently patting your waist.

“i’m sorry,” you quietly mumble. your fingers faintly tremble as you play with the tie, your eyes welling up with tears again.

nanami gently cups your cheek with his hand, tilting your head to the side before kissing your other cheek. “don’t apologize,” he whispers, “you meant well.”

“it went wrong,” you softly retort, a pout settling on your lips.

he offers you a warm smile, kissing your temple. “we can just make up for it, then,” he says.

a soft gasp leaves your lips as he stands up, holding you in his arms before setting you down on the countertop. you frown, your fingers curling around the edge of the counter as he kneels in front of the oven.

“you’re tired from work,” you say, peering down at his back. your nose scrunches up when he opens up the oven. you cough as he grabs a rag and swats the air, dispersing the burnt scent.

“that’s never stopped us before,” he points out, placing the rag down next to the sink before grabbing some mittens. warmth floods your cheeks, a soft huff leaving your lips.

your face scrunches up when he sets the pan next to you. there’s a sunken, charred loaf staring right back at you.

you feel his gaze on you. you look up at him, shrinking into yourself out of embarrassment. “it was supposed to be banana bread,” you mumble, weakly swinging your feet. “i read it was tasty with coffee,” you quietly add, looking down at the floor.

he rests one of his hands on your knee, his thumb rubbing your skin. “do you still have the recipe?”

you nod, gnawing on your lower lip as your gaze returns to his. “i saved it on my phone,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

“do we have leftover ingredients?” he asks, his tone patient. he softly pinches the skin of your knee when you nod, drawing out a soft yelp from your lips.

he hums, gently helping you down from the counter. “then, we can just make another loaf,” he says, kissing your forehead.

“what if it comes out wrong again?” you softly ask—both of you know it won’t happen, not with nanami there. still, he understands your apprehension.

“we’ll just make another one,” he replies, “and if that one comes out wrong—we’ll just keep trying until we get it right.”

the corners of his lips quirk up into a small smile when you hug him. “okay,” you whisper, giving him a soft squeeze.

nanami kisses the top of your head one last time before helping you prepare the ingredients again. and, suddenly, it’s as if nothing had been wrong in the first place. the charred loaf is long forgotten—replaced by another, much better version of it.

neither of you know it then, but it soon becomes a habit to bake together. (it also becomes nanami’s habit to take a slice with him to work. and, even later, it becomes a habit to take an extra slice for itadori).

[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 02

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem!reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: anxiety attack (kinda?), Mentions of criminal activity

Word count: 3611

Previous:

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

"Yah, hyung!" A light growl rang through the room. Jungkook stared at his elder with shock and anger. His scent went from a softer forest smell mixed with banana fruits to a darker, muskier one that felt heavy on your sensitive nose.

Slouching over the plate of noodles, you tried to appear smaller. The new man that arrived not too long ago had long black, fluffy hair that covered his eyes slightly. Even then, you could feel them on you.

To your right, you noticed Namjoon pinching the bridge of his nose, while Jungkook stood behind you, obviously a bit off. Even though he knew you for only a few minutes, he already grew fond of you - the way you shyly mumbled small words, how you avoided their gazes when small tears shined in your eyes. It all went straight into his heart. What was he to do? You were just too adorable to resist.

"Kook-ah, let it go. I forgot to tell you, I'm sorry Tae," the pack alpha sighed out before looking at you for a moment. Softly patting your head, slight calming pheromones wafting around you. Sniffing, you hid further in your hoodie, hiding your palms into the sleeves.

"..Okay? And what happened? Is she okay?" his voice deep and rumbly, still tired from his afternoon nap he was just woken up from. Rubbing his eyes, he started serving himself a plate of noodles.

Quietly shrinking even deeper into yourself, you looked down at your lap. Your scent was unsettled like never before, most definitely getting more stressed out with Taehyung pointing out the obvious. An unsatisfied Omega was hard to ignore, doesn't matter if it was alpha or a beta or even another omega that was watching so it didn't take long until someone stepped in.

"Kitty, eat up. It will get cold like this," Yoongi murmured from your left while he started to eat himself, subtly trying to bring you to different thoughts. Picking up the chopsticks given to you with shaky fingers, you hummed almost inaudibly, picking up a few noodles, biting into them. The taste was nice - not too spicy, sweet, and savory, so it was easy for you to handle.

Noticing that the others were quietly watching your reaction to the first bite, you mumbled about how tasty it is. Jin's wide shoulders sagged in relief as he too dug in with all others. You didn't eat much, only about half of your plate, until there were different chopsticks above your plate.

Startled, you quickly looked towards the man, only to see Namjoon, smiling with his dimples showing. One hand holding the cutlery, the other underneath so no drops got on you and you wouldn't get accidentally dirty.

"Here, try it cub."

Opening her mouth slightly, he allowed her to take a small bite first before he placed the leftover sliced pickled radish between her lips. Chewing slowly, she nodded. It was cold and tasted savoury and a little sweet too.

„Its tasty hm? Do you want some more?” Said Hoseok from across you, already picking up another one. Looking at him with big eyes, you once again parted her lips, silently asking for more. Giving in immediately, he hand fed you, like it was the most natural thing, smiling when you finished another slice of pickled radish.

Feeling full, you clumsily pushed your chair away from the table, turning in the seat and climbing out. You didn't get too far before a hand took a hold of your forearm, pulling you back to your seat. The pack alpha gave her a light but pointed look before speaking clearly:

„You aren't finished yet cub. That's not enough, come on, eat some more.”

Whining, you pulled at his hand lightly, only to have your chair pulled back close to the table.

„You hardly tasted the juice, drink up kitty.” Said the other alpha, handing you the tall glass, still mostly full. Taking it from his hand, his bracelets jiggled slightly, creating a nice sound. Sipping slowly, you really did like the taste of this juice - it was sweet but not too much and wasn't too thick. You might just have to go and buy it when you go back home.

Right. Soon you'll be going back to your own home, of course you will have to. This wasn't your pack, no matter how caring and nice it was here. Looking up at the packmates around the table, they all seemed calm. Chewing and talking between themselves, joking light-heartedly and sharing food between themselves.

Accidentally choking on the drink, you started coughing lightly, your shoulders moving harshly. Squeezing your own fingers, you felt a hand on your back, patting between your shoulder blades. Tears sprung into your yes once more.

Hearing a chair screeching after being harshly pulled out, within seconds you were taken under your arms and pulled up suddenly. Soon your feet were resting back against the flooring, with your head tucked into a crook of a neck. The soft banana scent took over your mind soon, making you go completely soft, leaning against Jungkooks chest.

With your mind clouded over with the scent, you couldn't tell what was exactly happening. Everything has gotten just to be bit too much - you couldn't get your medicine, therefore you will miss more lessons, and most likely fall behind. That itself was more than enough for your soft soul, but with all the scents back the mall, the car ride with the scents from outside that you didn't recognise, it got even worse. Arriving at the packhouse, you were welcomed warmly, but still, all the heavy scents that were just natural for alpha's to have made you even more anxious and out of space.

Picking you back up again, he smoothly carried you over to the couch with the other packmembers following closely behind. Placing you on the large grey couch, he took a seat near you. Your sobs were quiet but sad - something was very wrong, and it definetly wasn't the chocked on juice anymore.

Bending over, Namjoon studied your face for a minute, standing back up and sighing, he too took a seat on your side. Jin and Jimin stood before you, looking worried. Walking around the couch, Hobi took the hoodie package, also sitting down next to Kook. Most of them stayed quiet, and also took seats. Tae looked exceptionally concerned, watching closely while you shook, whimpering and whining slightly - it was normal for upset omegas to do so, they just tend to turn soft and vulnerable. More than normally, if that's even possible.

Ripping the plastic seal apart, the alpha pulled out the neatly folded jumper out.

„Louis Vuitton?”

„Yea, they sent me a note with it too. It has a bee stiched on it, see? It's cool, wah..”

Leaning closer, he held it up, showing others. Pretty much none of them looked over, keeping their eyes on the omega. They will look later, this was more important right now.

Going to touch the chocolate brown jumper, Jungkook fingers didn't even graze it before it was pulled from him. Looking up at his hyung, he quickly explained.

„It's for the pup, you'll scent it like that.”

Understanding, the maknae once again looked at you. Curled up on his right, you shook lightly, your scent coming off in waves.

Namjoon couldn't hold on anymore, and so when a whimper left you once again he was quick to pull you over his lap, cradling your head into his neck, his other palm softly petting your lower back.

„Sh-Sh-Sh now 'mega, it's okay. I'm here, hm? Don't fret little baby...” Clutching onto his t-shirt, you nested closer to his body, resting your cheek on his collarbone.

Hearing footsteps, you looked up slightly, sniffing the air so you knew well before Yoongi turned the corner that it was him. His scent that just felt like a lavender field at the moment was just easily recognisable for you by now.

The man carried a cup that was still steaming, before he walked to the coffee table in front of the couch, placing it down. Crouching next to Namjoon, the bottom of his slippers hit the ground with a faint flop. Running his fingers over your calf, that was now bare since your pants rode up just enough for a bit of your skin to show.

Once again his bracelets jiggled against one another, when he pulled your pantleg back down, going over it to insure you were warm. Cooing softly at your small form, he patted your back and stood back up.

„I made you some matcha kitty, will you drink it for me later?” Watching over you like a hawk, your face still hiden away near his pack alpha's scent gland, but still he caught the smallest little nod, and how your fingers tighten around the shirt he was wearing.

„Won't that be too bitter? Did you sweeten it?” asked the second youngest lightly, he too did have quite sensitive tastebuds and understood the pain of something bit too spicy or bitter too well.

„Yea, it's with milk and honey, don't worry. It should be okay, I tried it and it seemed fine.” the other alpha answered quickly. Meanwhile Hobi too stood up and came closer, holding the hoodie by the bottom hem, so it was the least close to the top half, where if worn you could smell the most. It was your decision if you wanted to have their scents on it after all.

It was yours now, and he wanted you to be fully comfortable with it. Of course he would scent it for you, all of them would. You wouldn't have to ask twice, you already had them wrapped around your tiny little finger.

„Here pup..,” when you didn't turn too quickly, Joon easily pulled you so you sat sideways, facing the other alpha, that was looking at you with soft eyes. Not being able to resist the way your cheeks were soft and plum, your eyes red and big, glossy with more tears that had yet to come, he cooed at you, rubbing your cheek lightly.

Placing the clothing item to your arm you slowly pulled it closer to yourself. Sniffling it softly, you deemed it nice enough and your burried your face in the nice, plushy fabric. „..can you keep an eye on it for me now baby?”

Slightly nodding again, you once again let Joon move you on his lap how you were before. One hand keeping a hold of his tshirt still, the other clutching the new jumper close to yourself. With your nose soon returning back in the crook of his neck, the pack alpha continued to run his long fingers through your hair, gently soothing you.

Noone spoke for a few minutes, the only thing filling the air were their scents, going from their thick and masculine smells to a softer, soothing version that enveloped you whole while you let the occasional soft rumble from the bottom of Joon's chest settle you deeper. Eventually you deemed it safe enough to really fully rest, slowly closing your eyes, fully trusting the alpha to keep you safe in your most vulnerable form.

A quiet noise from the TV didn't make you look up, the room filled with an odd laugh here and there. You knew one of the actresses voices, her accent easily recognisable. She frequently acted in new kdramas, and this must have been the newest one. As few minutes went by, you were once again pulled from Joon's neck to sit sideways. Whining in discomfort, you went to go back, only to have yourself pushed back against his arm.

„Drink up. It won't take long, you can snuggle back up right after, promise cub.” He said, smiling at you with his dimples showing. Holding the cup to your lips you didn't bother to even open your eyes fully, just too soft at the given moment. Tilting it up for you, you placed your hand on the cup, your fingers touching.

„Careful, it could be still hot..” said Jimin softly, making you open your eyes and watch him while drinking. It wasn't too bitter or too sweet and carried a nice earthy taste with just the slightest bit of vanilla. It was very tasty too, so far everything they provided you with was very satisfying for your tastebuds. You needed to repay them back some time.

Your eyes stayed on the alpha's face, suddenly not so afraid to look at their faces more. You didn't have much time to notice yet, your tears blurring all that was around you, but he was very handsome. There was something about his face, that was masculine yet feminine and it had you smiling softly. His eyes soft when watching over you, his lips plump and big, the upper just slightly lighter than the bottom one, his face was beautiful.

Before you knew it, the mug was taken away from you, having you looking back at the pack alpha in confusion. He placed it back down on the coffee table and pulled you back so you were facing his chest. Softly whispering about how you would get an upset stomach if you were to drink any more, you sighed and with the hoodie wrapped between your fingers you once again rested against his neck.

Softly swaying you and patting your back your eyes grew heavier, the last thing you watched before nodding off was Jungkook's soft bunny smile, warming you up from the inside.

❄️

The softness around you was comforting. You didn't sleep so well in a long time you realised, normally waking up at least 3 times, only to have more troubles falling asleep right after. That didn't happen tonight - no, no it didn't. You felt calm, safe and satisfied and warm.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you snuggled deeper into the clean smelling sheets. The charcoal grey fabric felt soft against your body, and it didn't make it itch like most of the blankets and sheets you owned yourself did. It was a relieving change.

Your vision was still a bit blurry, and when you didn't see the sunlight throught the small gaps in the long curtains, you felt too sleepy to get up. Since it was winter, it could be midnight or the morning and the sun would still stay hidden for a while. The bed was soft, the pillow not too thin or too thick and so you pulled the brown jumper closer to your face and went back to dreamland.

Meanwhile, the pack was just about waking up, some of the members already in the living room or kitchen, watching the morning news, answering emails on their laptops, or preparing a breakfast. To be truthful, breakfast was made mostly by Jin as usual. Sure, Hobi did cut up some kimchi and mixed the soup here and there, but once Jin turned away to get eggs from the fridge, he was quick to go sit with the other two on the couch. The eldest only scolded him softly but let him be. He didn't have much left to do.

Sitting down close to Taehyung, Hobi too focused onto the morning news. It wasn't too early, just about half past 7, so the morning broadcast was just in the middle. The reporter was clothed in a suit, his hair brushed back, his strong eyebrows standing out.

„...to provide you with a weather forecast for today in Korea, specifically focusing on the snowfall and temperature conditions in Seoul.

Over the past three days, Seoul has experienced heavy snowfall, which is expected to continue further. As of today, the temperature outside stands at -8°C, accompanied by a significant snow accumulation of approximately 16cm. The highest temperatures to be reached today are expected at the -6°C and during the following night at about -14°C.

Given the current weather conditions, it is crucial for individuals to take necessary precautions to ensure their safety and well-being. Dressing warmly, using appropriate footwear, and exercising caution while commuting are highly advised.

Please note that these conditions may impact daily activities, including transportation services and road conditions. It is recommended to stay updated with the latest weather announcements from local authorities and adjust plans accordingly.

Thank you for your attention to this matter, now we will provide you with a all matter criminal broadcast, with breaking news regarding the criminal Min In-Su, previously charged a life sentence for his crimes. In a shocking turn of events, the notorious abuser and killer, managed to escape from the high-security confines of the Gimcheon Juvenile Correctional Institution in the early hours of yesterday. The escape took place between 1:30 to 2:00 am, further adding to the audacity and cunning of this criminal. With Min In-Su still at large, the local authorities have launched a massive-...”

„Yah, Taehyung-ah turn it down a bit, you will wake up the others. It's a day off, so let them sleep. Especially the little one, she has had a rough day yesterday she could do a few more hours for sure..” The eldest said, his voice growing quieter the longer he spoke.

While Taehyung was wide awake by now, since he already had more than enough rest from his nap yesterday, the others were still quite tired. Obeying, he turned the noise of the giant flat screen down, placing the remote control next to himself. With the satisfying background noise of clicking keyboard from Namjoon on his right, he focused back on the news, currently broadcasting photos of the criminal.

When Jin once again called for them from the kitchen, since he just finished preparing the breakfast. Standing up first, Joon placed the open laptop on the couch and yawned. He didn't sleep too much, and even though he could have slept in, he was just worried the small omega would go looking for him for whatever reason. He didn't want you to grow anxious if you couldn't find him for long enough, so he decided to stick close by, getting up at about six in the morning.

Making his way to the table, he sat down and rubbed his eyes, getting up so early did nothing in helping him feel more refreshed and awake, so when Jin placed a cup of coffee Infront of him he gladly took a nice sip. Thanking him silently, he relaxed while serving himself a small bowl of warm broth and another cup of rice, fresh out of the rice cooker.

The other packmates soon came to the table too, taking seats just how they usually sat. The TV still played, adding a soft background noise, having the men sometimes looking up to stare at the screen. Jin sipped on a coffee cup himself, occasionally eating his serve of kimchi eggs, after finishing those he too slurped up the vegetable broth. The two other alpha's shared a big plate of bulgogi, each having their own bowl of rice. The sun was only just about rising when the Maknae arrived at the table.

Neither of the already awoken alphas felt like waking anyone up - they could sleep in if they wanted to and they wanted them to, so they let them be.

The still sleepy Jungkook slouched down on a seat next to Jin, his eyes closed and hair all around, fluffy and wild. Dressed in only a loose shirt and a pair of shorts, it was clear he just rolled out of bed, probably getting hungry from the smell of food. Pouring the youngest a bowl of broth and giving him an occasional bite of bulgogi, he sat quietly, still partly asleep, sipping on his soup.

Eventually, Jimin also got up, it was just about to be 9 in the morning, all the others have already finished their foods and drinks, but they kept a nice portion for the ones that decided staying in bed bit longer. Some of the leftovers were still warm, so he too sat down, making himself an easy kimchi toast with a glass of vanilla milk. His hair was also messy, but it seemed to be a repeating pattern. They weren't used to being able to sleep in like this, so they greatly appreciated it.

Not having to get up and get ready so early into the day was a welcomed change for once.

Rubbing his eyes and cleaning after himself, the shortest alpha sat down next to the others that were still sleepily resting on the couch. While Namjoon once again had the poetry book in hand, Jungkook and Teahyung were playing a new game he and Yoongi just bought them yesterday, occasionally joking around and laughing. Still they kept it quite quiet, which noone seemed to mind. Everyone was just too sleepy still, with very little energy left.

Siting down next to his older hyung, he watched his younger packmates play the game before he too pulled out his phone to watch socials and play mobilegames.

When even Yoongi rolled out of bed and sat down with his breakfast, a big cup of coffee in hand rather than any actual food, waking up the still asleep omega started to be a thought running through everyone's mind. It was just about forty minutes past 10, so it would be more of an early lunch by now, still they wanted to see you full, getting bit angsty with the thought of you being hungry while under their care.

„Ill go wake her up now so she can eat..” said the alpha, getting up from his seat and heading upstairs to disturb the most likely very soft, sleepy and vulnerable omega.

⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚˚ ✩‧₊˚⋆·˚ ༘ *

Next:

[delirious-donna]

Tales From The Housekeeper [Extra Drabble]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

an: despite never being seen, the developing relationship between you and Kento has been witnessed up close. Mrs McGarden has been Nanami's cleaner for many years and she knows in her heart what is happening within the walls of the apartment... a little diary that I thought was a fun idea.

warning: none, SFW, fluff and humour

Series Masterlist

𝓜𝓻𝓼 𝓜𝓬𝓖𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷’𝓼 𝓒𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓛𝓸𝓰

𝓒𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓮: Nanami Kento 

𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼: general tidying, kitchen deep cleaned once a week and trash to be removed, vacuum and mop every other day, windows on a Friday, ad hoc jobs as and when 

𝓒𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼: very polite, young professional man, values his privacy, has a younger sister who has been known to visit unexpectedly (she has her own key for the door, keycard for the elevator and the passcodes), sister aside it is unusual for others to be visiting. Enjoys homemade bread and good coffee (reminder to bring by baked goods every now and then – especially banana bread and caramel pecan muffins) 

𝓢𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼: steer clear of anything overly floral, prefers subtle scents that evoke a sense of cleanliness, use Tom Ford Ébène Fumé reed diffuser in the master bedroom 

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

No incidents to report. Apartment was empty on entry. Kitchen deep cleaned, skirting boards and cupboard doors included. Trash emptied. Took receipt of laundered items – left on master bed as requested. Replaced diffusers in living room and both bathrooms. 

𝓣𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

Strange phone call from Miss Nanami, client’s younger sister. I… I don’t know how to feel about it all. Over the years of my employment, I have grown very fond of Mr Nanami and whilst I do not see him most of the times I am here, on the occasions we do cross paths, he is always courteous and easy to converse with. That being said, I am not sure if I wish to be a part of the scheme she has proposed. I will have to think on it this evening, perhaps I will run it past Mr McGarden to see what he thinks of it all… 

Oh, before I forget. No other incidents to report. Linens from the beds stripped and remade with new sheets. All floors hoovered or mopped as planned. Plants watered. 

𝓦𝓮𝓭𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

I don’t know if my conscious will hold out, but I have decided that I could not ignore the plight of Miss Karin’s friend. What kind of woman would I be if I were not to allow a young woman a safe place to stay? I’ll be honest, Miss Karin was extremely persuasive… she would make an excellent lawyer. All I have to do is act oblivious if asked, which should not be a problem given the upcoming business trip. It might be nice to have a feminine presence in the apartment, and I can remove all trace of her before Mr Nanami returns, of that I am certain. 

One broken coffee mug (I expect my clumsiness was a result of my slightly frayed nerves) and I have left a note with the promise of replacing it. Couch cushions fluffed, blankets refolded and the ceiling fan and other hard to reach areas dusted. Counters sprayed down with disinfectant. List made for tomorrow – operation deep clean. 

𝓣𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

If I listed everything here it would take me an age. Suffice it to say the apartment is spotless, and I have left a Tupperware box of fruit scones for Mr Nanami to take away with him on his trip (my guilty conscious acting again and Mr McGarden was rather upset that there were no leftovers for him). Funny that I didn’t see his luggage out of the closet yet, perhaps he is packing last minute. I am both nervous and excited. I feel like a co-conspirator of some awful heist! 

𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂

I am a nervous wreck… I barely slept last night and found myself starting work far earlier than normal simply because I couldn’t relax. All last-minute details straightened out. Mr Nanami had left for work or the airport by the time I arrived. Unusually there were some leftovers from the previous evening left out – a crystal tumbler with a hint of whisky in the bottom and a bowl with the stems of grapes. It’s not like him to not pick up after himself but maybe he was in a rush. I left as quickly as I could, not wishing to startle the poor girl who would be staying in the apartment. This is going to be fine, right? Oh, dear lord, what have I let myself in for… 

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

If I avoid being fired it will be a miracle. From what I’ve heard there was a mix-up and now Mr Nanami knows of his sister’s scheme and apparently, she might have thrown me under the bus too. I will be having words with her as soon as she deems to answer my calls, the little madam. I caught the barest glimpse of the guest this morning as she was heading into her room, she smiled and I got the sense that despite the confusion, she is happy to be here. 

Mr Nanami, on the other hand, had less to say to me than I thought. He asked if I had known about Miss Karin’s plan and I couldn’t play dumb, not under his gaze. The man can be intimidating without really trying and I hope to goodness he hasn’t scared the poor woman. Rather than react with anger, he simply tightened his jaw and gave a firm nod. There is something different about him, I’m not sure what makes me say that, call it woman’s intuition. I am on reduced hours until his guest leaves and I can only hope he doesn’t reconsider my offer of resignation. I really would miss him as a client. 

𝓣𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂 

There is something brewing here, I can feel it. What I claimed as woman’s intuition is now so much more. Mr Nanami is more relaxed than I have ever seen him, and he wears it well. It is nice to see him looking less tired, his eyes are brighter, and I would swear he smiles more frequently. His companion is doing wonders for his mood and no wonder, she is such a lovely young thing. Very intelligent, witty, and most importantly, she doesn’t let anyone walk over her. We have chatted once or twice but only for a minute. I like her, and I don’t believe I am alone in that sentiment. 

I keep forgetting to detail my tasks, I would forget my head if it weren’t screwed on as Mr McGarden likes to remind me. Linens changed. Laundry ordered for collection on Monday morning. Floors cleaned. Mug replaced from last week. Plants watered and pruned. 

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

Oh, my days. I don’t know what to think. The atmosphere continues to change every time I visit. Today it seems the two of them have ventured to the National Museum together. Would one consider that a date? Maybe I am reading into things too much. Too many Mills and Boon novels in my nightstand. He deserves happiness. Money can only afford so much. I’ve worked for Mr Nanami long enough to want to see him settle and be happy. I dare not get my hopes up but it’s impossible when I witness these furtive little glances between them. It’s also rather funny how they seem to fall silent whenever I am within earshot. It reminds me of my courting days… 

Living area straightened, a dog-eared book found down the side of the couch cushions, and I doubt it belongs to Mr Nanami. His bookshelves are stuffed full, but each book is in pristine, unread condition. The man simply does not have time for reading. Maybe they will change. Floors cleaned. I can’t help but notice that the apartment feels far more lived in than it ever has. Diffuser changed in the master bedroom. 

𝓦𝓮𝓭𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓭𝓪𝔂

She left. I don’t know what else to say. The apartment is a mess, well, as messy as I’ve ever seen it. Decorative ribbon on the living room floor, a half empty bottle of whisky on the kitchen island, two mugs unused but set out… Mr Nanami refuses to speak to me, refuses to even meet my eye. I’d take it for anger if I didn’t know better. There is guilt in his gaze. Whatever happened yesterday, he won’t be drawn on the matter. I’ve thought to call Miss Karin but is it my place? Never have I seen the man so dishevelled and utterly miserable. I suspect he hasn’t bathed as I can smell the lingering alcohol when he slouches past. I don’t like this. I should have never meddled in his affairs. Just when I thought he might have found someone to brighten his days… oh, it’s such a mess. 

Kitchen disinfected, dishwasher emptied and reloaded. Living area tidied except for the ribbon which I dare not touch. Bedrooms… the guest room is barren and sad. Mr Nanami prevented me from stripping the linens, in fact, he practically shooed me from the room. Bathrooms cleaned. There is a lump in my throat as I write this. I wish I had never been a part of any of this, not when it has seemingly ended so disastrously. What shall I do? I suppose that nothing would be the best answer, it is not my business to meddle in. 

𝓕𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓪𝔂

No one was home. I worry that Mr Nanami is not eating, there is very little trash and no leftovers in the fridge. I couldn’t help but peek inside the bedroom next to his and I found it exactly as it had been the last time I was here. The sheets are made but the ruffles show the clear form of a body huddled atop the bed. I’m not sure if it’s from the poor girl or if Mr Nanami has taken to sleeping in here. A sadness remains and I’ve taken to completing my tasks as quickly as possible to escape the gloom. If things have not improved over the weekend… perhaps I can offer a friendly ear? I doubt he would accept the offer, but I can’t continue on like this and feeling partly responsible. 

Windows washed. Floors cleaned. Empty liquor bottles taken out for recycling… he never normally drinks this heavily.  

𝓜𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝔂

I was running late today, and of all the days to fall behind. It must be serendipitous! The key was barely in the lock when my phone rang from the depths of my bag. Lo and behold… Miss Karin had finally returned my calls. I was halfway through giving her a mouthful when she cut me off with seven words that I will remember for years to come.  

He left work to go find her. 

I’m in shock. Never have I known Mr Nanami to leave work before the day was done. In fact, he often worked far later than he needed to just to stay ahead of the competition. There was something in Miss Karin’s voice, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but she knows more than she was letting on. I could have cried on the spot. 

Linens changed although I have again left the guest bedroom. Kitchen deep cleaned. Plants watered and pruned. Dusting done. I took the liberty of baking some bread whilst I was here. The sun was long down by the time I left. I guess I lingered in the hopes of maybe seeing them both, but it wasn’t to be. There is hope in my heart once more and I will nurture it. Mr McGarden picked me up this evening and listened to me on the drive home. He told me about a saying from the country he was born and raised in… ‘whits fur ye’ll no go by ye’, which means what is for you will not go by you and I believe that in my heart. 

There will be a happy ending, or I will eat my hat! 

[under-sedationnn]

Mike Schmidt x reader where she’s pregnant?

mike schmidt x pregnant fem!reader pt.1

summary: a day in the life with mike and abby as the reader navigates the ups and downs of the much dreaded (and much anticipated) third trimester. 

“Mike, I'm going to be honest, there's no way I can tie my shoes.” 

"Abby-girl! Come on, breakfast!"

I hear the sound of small, bare feet skittering down the hallway and halt to a stop at the edge of the dining table. Abby, hair still unbrushed and pajamas wrinkled, smiles at me from her seat by the window.

"What did you make this morning, y/n?" She leans across the table to see the bowl I'm holding, and I give her a sympathetic look.

"Oatmeal," I say, and she wilts slightly. "With nutella, and bananas! Made special for you."

I set down the bowl and she inspects it, picking up the spoon by the small end and poking at the slices of fruit. I shift on my swollen feet, and pray that she decides it's not poison, after-all. Besides, I need to eat something soon, too. And take a bath. And online shop for baby clothes, on clearance.

"I guess it's fine," she mutters, but digs in anyways.

"Well," I start, heading back into the kitchen, "I bet if you are a super star today that Mike will take you to get pizza tonight. And if he says no, I'll tell him the baby said we need it."

She smiles widely, and I pour myself a small cup of coffee. I sit down across from her at the table, and prop my feet onto the seat beside me, settling my coffee cup onto my bump to rest. Abby is fully invested in eating her oatmeal now, and I anticipate the need for a snack when she finishes.

Settling into domestic life with Abby and Mike wasn't difficult, one could say it was the exact opposite, but there are ups and downs. For one, I had to drop myself into a semi-stepmom situation, and pretty soon afterwards found out I was going to be a mom for real. But Abby is a good kid, and Mike is the kindest man I have ever met, and we're making it work day by day.

"So, Abs," I say between sips, "what are we feeling we want to do on this glorious day of all days, Saturday?"

She thinks for half a second, and opens her mouth to answer when the door begins to unlock. Mike steps into the living room, backpack slung over his shoulder with deep bags under his eyes. He smiles when he sees us nestled in our little corner of the room, and shuts out the bright morning light behind him.

I move to stand, but he puts his hand out to stop me.

"Woah woah woah, remember what the doc said, no unnecessary walking, right now. How are your feet feeling by the way?" He leans down to kiss me on the forehead, the cheek, a peck on the mouth, and moves to put his backpack and keys by the door.

"Eh, they're doing okay, but they definitely don't feel great," I respond, and he kneels down beside me.

"Want me to take a look?"

I nod my head, and he peels my socks off. The swelling is a little better, but I still hiss slightly when he pokes at the top of my foot, and the pit stays in my skin.

"Not the best, but not the worst," he says, not too sure of himself, "but you're not doing anything today, you need to rest."

I sigh. "Mike, you just got off of a shift, I know you're exhausted, and the house needs to be cleaned. There is no way I'm going to let you-"

"There is no way I am going to let you clean the house today, or do anything that is going to make you feel worse." He moves his hand to my stomach. "We're in this together, remember? 'Til the very end."

I place my hand over his own, "The very end, I love you."

"I love you, too. Now, what's first?" He kisses my fingers once and stands up. Abby joins him in watching for my answer.

"Breakfast, please."

"Agreed." He smiles and turns to the kitchen, presumedly to make us each an equally bland bowl of oatmeal.

"What were you saying you wanted to do today, Abby? You never got a chance to finish what you were saying, sweetheart."

Her bowl is empty; she wipes the leftover nutella from her lips, and moves towards the fridge to get out some milk. "One of my friends at school is having a birthday party today and I wanted to go." She pours herself a precariously full glass of milk from the carton, and slowly walks back to the table.

"You can still go Abs," says Mike, "and I could drive if you want me to."

"Well, her mom is carpooling for other kids and said she could come and get me," she adds between gulps.

I look at Mike over the kitchen bar, and he smiles at me slightly. "Abby, do you have her mom's number? I can call and see if she'll come and get you."

"Sure! Hold on, it's in my back pack." She hops up from her chair, stumbling in her excitement, and races to her room.

"Mike, if she goes, we could have a day all to ourselves."

Not that we don't love having Abby around, but a day alone would be well-deserved.

"Yeah, we could take a nap." He chuckles, and brings our breakfast to the table. Oatmeal, with just a little bit of nutella.

I nod my head in agreement as Abby races back to the dining room and shoves a piece of paper with a phone number in Mike's face. He calls, talks for a moment, and places down the phone while saying, "Abby, go get dressed, she will be here in 20 minutes." She turns on the spot and speeds down the hallway, once again.

We give each other a silent high five, and look forward to a day of relaxation together.

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i'm going to be honest, i kind of want to continue this blurb into a second part where the day continues. i was really enjoying making this into a small, domestic fic and I didn't want to just make it about the pregnancy but the life that it would lead to WITH mike (which includes abby).

thanks for reading!!! <3

[enchantedbarnes]

Uncle Buck • Part 4

Misterwives

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Single Aunt!Reader

Summary: Your nephew Benji overhears a conversation. Not liking what he's hearing, he takes matters into his own hands.

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

A/N: Sheeeeeesh. This one's longer than the other parts. Take this as my Happy New Years! treat I guess haha. Pt 1 just passed 4k notes and my mind is absolutely blown.

Everybody thank @kilikina34512 for our latest Benji hijinx 😏 Enjoy! and thanks again for all the love 🫶🥰

Bucky joined both of you at "The Screamery" that following day. A themed ice cream shop you and Benji both love that is decked out in classic horror movies.

Benji ate what seemed like his weight in ice cream. You caved and bought him a banana split sundae which Dracula dropped off at your table in a sundae boat the size of Benji's head. Strawberry syrup was drizzled on top to look like blood and a fake candy eyeball took the place of the cherry on top. You knew it would be too much for him to eat all of it, but figured you can always bring the leftovers home.

Benji pointed out all the memorabilia around to Bucky, filling him in on both his personal favorites and yours.

After arriving back at the house, Bucky stuck around for a cup of coffee and this was the point where you royally fucked up.

It's now a few days after, reaching midweek.

"We've decided we're just going to be friends," you explained to Nora as you sat on your bed.

"What?? Why? Was this his decision or yours?" Nora stood in front of you with her hands on her hips.

"Well, both..? I think…"

"You think??"

"He didn't disagree."

"Y/N! Of course he didn't disagree if you decided you didn't want to be with him."

"It's not that I don't want to be with him. I do really like him. He has been nothing but super sweet and kind with our insanity."

"Yeah, it's always a real bummer when a super hot guy brings you flowers and enjoys hanging out with you and your family," Nora rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, I get it. I'm an idiot, okay?"

"Why are you self-destructing? I've seen the smile he gives you, are you kidding me? Smitten. Same goes for you."

"I don't know! I panicked. Holidays are coming up soon. I didn't want to drag him into more nonsense than we already have. We've probably been way over the top and too much for him to want to deal with. We practically kidnapped the guy over the weekend," you ramble on, "Plus what you said with the whole super hot thing. Like come on, how are those cheekbones and that jawline-"

"The eyes."

"The eyes! How is he even real? It's ridiculous."

"No, you're ridiculous. Please explain how the conversation happened, did he tell you this was too much?"

"Well, no…not exactly. We were just talking and my brain kind of went into this red alert mode and I started rambling like an idiot about how nice it has been hanging out and I vaguely remember saying something along the lines that we make a great couple of friends."

"Couple of friends?! Are you for real right now? Did you hit your head and not tell us? What the hell is wrong with you!"

"UGH!" you shout while slamming a pillow over your face.

Benji overhears the conversation from the hallway and shakes his head. Making sure both his mom and aunt were distracted with their conversation he grabs his hat and gloves, putting them on and then grabbing his jacket and tossing that on as well.

He does one more look back when he gets to the front door and quietly makes his way out, closing the door at a glacial speed so no noise would be detected.

Bucky was seated next to Sam at a local bar, beer in hand. Bucky explains what happened last with Y/n.

"I don't blame her for not being interested in me."

"C'mon man, that can't be it. You couldn't shut up about the great time you had bowling with her and how awesome her family and friends were. I was expecting a wedding invitation in the mail by now."

"Now you sound like the small one."

"Love that kid. He really is something else. I hope there's a video out there of him asking you to marry Y/n at that event. That was the best thing I've seen in years. Oh! Maybe I should give him my address so he knows where to mail my invitation," he grins, "We could also play the clip at your wedding."

Bucky glares over at him.

"Who am I kidding, your glare is right. He probably already knows my address. Y'think the kids gonna take this news of you just being friends well?" Sam asks.

Bucky's phone buzzes in his pocket. Pulling it out the screen lights up alerting a new call, listing an incoming call from NYPD.

What could the NYPD want? "Um, I'll be right back, I'm just gonna go-" he holds the phone up slightly and points towards the exit.

He answers as he walks to a quieter area, "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Sergeant Barnes?"

"Yes, is there something I can help with…?"

"We have a Benjamin Barnes here, he was found at Chestnut Park when he approached one of our officers. He said he got separated in a crowd and asked us to call you. Is this your nephew?"

"Yup," Bucky sighs, "That's my nephew, alright. Is his mom or aunt not with him?"

"No, sir. We checked the surrounding area but he wasn't able to spot them. Your phone number was the only one he could remember. Are you nearby to come collect him, or do you have an address we can bring him to? He wasn't sure what his address was either."

How convenient he didn't know his address or mom's phone number, but could probably rattle off all 50 states with their capitals if you asked him.

"I can come and get him."

"Officer Mills is with him now, they are near the east entrance of the park."

"Thanks." Bucky shook his head as he disconnected the call. Walking back over to the bar quickly to close his tab, "I gotta go," he tells Sam as he places cash on the bar.

"What's up? You need some help?"

"Small ones at it again, he must have heard something. Just got a call that my nephew, Benjamin Barnes, is at the park right now. He conveniently got separated from his mom and my phone number was the only one he knows," he answers with a knowing look.

"This kid deserves an award. Please can I come? I'm begging. I need to see this for myself."

"No." Bucky rolls his eyes, starting to walk out without another word. He holds his arm up to flag a cab.

Sam quickly tosses his own cash down and grabs his jacket, running to catch up with the super soldier.

"Are you going to call Y/n?" Sam asks as he finishes adjusting his jacket after he finally catches up.

"No, Sam. I thought I'd collect the kid and take him in as my own," he answers sarcastically, opening the door to the cab as it stopped in front of him.

"Well, he would probably be an excellent member of the team."

"We are not a team."

"Whatever you say, blue steel," Sam quickly opens the other side and slips in.

Once they're close enough Bucky spots Benji next to a hot dog vendor, chatting with the officer. Benji looks over and spots the two approaching through the crowd.

"Uncle Bucky!" He grins, looking over at the officer that was waiting with him, "My uncle is here, Officer Mills," he announces while pointing over at Bucky.

"Sorry for any trouble this might have caused. Thanks for having someone call and waiting with him," Bucky shakes the officer's hand.

"No problem, Sergeant Barnes. Glad to help. I was surprised when he said you were his uncle. Maybe you guys should start workin' on teachin' this guy his address and stickin' with his guardians in a crowd," Officer Mills instructs, looking down at Benji at the last part.

"Absolutely, I'm certain his parents will have a lot to say," Bucky answers, also giving Benji a pointed look.

After the officer walks away wishing them a good evening Bucky pulls out his phone.

"Alright, nephew, where is your mom?"

"She's at home…"

"And why are you not at home with her?"

"I thought it was a nice day for a walk…"

"Uh huh. Does she know you're out for a casual stroll on your own right now?"

"...Not so much…"

Bucky shakes his head and starts to open the contacts in his phone.

"Does anyone know you're out here?"

It was Benji's turn to shake his head.

Sam sits down against the ledge of the wall next to Benji. "You can't be out here walking by yourself, little man."

Bucky goes to tap on your contact, his eyebrow raising when he notices your name now seems to be under "Future Y/n Barnes 💌" with a photo of you laughing while eating ice cream he doesn't recall taking. He looks up at Benji with an eyebrow still raised.

Holding the phone up to his ear, it rings a few times before going to voicemail.

Bucky glares at the phone. He's about to start a text when the phone starts buzzing, "Future Y/n Barnes 💌" pops up on the screen with the ice cream shop photo on full display now.

"Hello, Y/n."

"Hey, Bucky��Sorry I just missed your call. What's up?"

"Do you happen to know where Benji is at the moment?"

"He's been in his room for a while, why do you ask?"

"You sure about that?" He questions while looking over at the roughly 4'2" boy in front of him that is currently in an animated conversation with Sam.

"Well, I was until you asked me that…his room has been blasting Party Rock Anthem for maybe half an hour now, but as far as I know he was in th-" Bucky hears loud music suddenly playing from your end and Y/n mutters a Benjamin under her breath, "Please tell me you have him."

"Well, not sure if he's achieved a cloning system, but I certainly have a close look-alike standing in front of me right now."

"That little punk... I'm so sorry, Bucky. Where are you? I'll come get him," he can hear you starting to rush around as the music shuts off.

"We can come to you, we're not far. We should be there in a few minutes."

"Thank you so much, Bucky. I really really appreciate it. I should probably go tell Nora her spawn escaped. Damnit, she's going to flip her lid… I'll see you soon."

"Tell her he's fine. Sam is with us too, we'll see you soon."

Bucky hangs up and joins the pair, "Alright, pal. We're dropping you back home. Your Aunt Y/n is expecting us now, and she's telling your mom about your Houdini act."

Benji's shoulders slump, "Do we have to?"

"Well, you kind of live there, and you're 8 years old. You can't be walking around by yourself. Especially without telling anyone. It's too dangerous out here by yourself, bud."

"I know, but I really needed to talk to you."

"What was so important you had to pull this stunt? You know my phone number," Bucky fixes another look at him while crossing his arms which sparks a small giggle from the boy.

"My tablet was charging and I didn't have a phone available.. I heard Aunt Y/n talking to my mom," he starts to explain looking ahead of them as they start their walk back.

"Okay?"

"Please don't give up on, Aunt Y/n."

"Not sure what you heard, pal? But we're still friends?"

"Friends is so lame! She didn't mean it. She said she panicked, but she really likes you. Even mentioned how um, handsome you were," he adjusts his answer with a side eye, "Also, she was worried we were too much for you. You don't think we're too much, do you?" He looks up at Bucky with a pout fully engaged.

"Well, Benjamin Barnes," he jokes, "I can't say you've been flying low under the radar here, pal. You certainly know how to make a statement," he ruffles his hair and puts his arm around his shoulders as they continue their walk.

Sam laughs and offers a fist bump to Benji.

Bucky continues, "But no, I wouldn't say you've all been too much. Just an adjustment. A nice one," he adds.

"You've managed to make robo-buck over here smile more than I've seen since I've known him," Sam comments. "Did you know when I met him, he ripped the steering wheel right out my car from my hands? Punched right through the windshield," Sam makes hand gestures to go along with the story. He and Bucky both glare at each other, Sam's has a smirk to his however.

"Whoa!" Benji shouts, "Can we try that with the car over there?! I wanna see!!"

Bucky huffs and pulls Benji along.

"Ignore everything Samuel says. Pretend he's not even here. I know I certainly do," Bucky mutters at the end.

"I was talking to.." Benji pauses, "Prudence.. about reincarnation. She says you knew Y/n in another life, but you never got together in that life, so your hearts are like puzzles with missing pieces and when you get together the puzzle will be complete. I know this because I'm younger and pure, so I'm more in touch with cosmic forces."

"Wait, puzzles, cosmic forces… Why does that sound familiar?" Sam asks, squinting ahead in thought.

"BENJAMIN DAVID RUSSELL!"

"Dang, full government name. Nice knowing you kid," Sam lets out a low whistle.

They were still about 5 houses back, the front steps to their destination visible up ahead. Nora stood outside their doorway with her arms crossed.

"Get your scrawny butt in here, right now!" Nora points to the door.

"Farewell fellas, it was nice knowin' ya," Benji sends a salute and a wave to the pair as he slowly walks the rest of the way ahead of them.

"Inside, let's go," Nora instructs, "Straight to your room. You'll notice your speakers are no longer in there and the door is left open, keep it that way."

"But mom!"

"Nope, I don't want to hear it right now. Inside, move it."

Benji disappears inside and up the stairs.

"Thank you so much for bringing him home," Nora greets Bucky with a tight hug.

"Hi, I'm Nora," she introduces herself to Sam, "Thank you so much, truly I appreciate it," she pulls Sam into a hug as well.

"Great meeting you, big fan of your kid. Probably not what you want to hear right now though."

"Ha. Yeah, never a dull moment around here. Please come in and join us for dinner. We have some lasagna that's about to come out of the oven. It's the absolute least I can do to thank you both. You can fill me in on what scheme he pulled this time."

"Oh, we wouldn'–"

Sam cuts Bucky off, "We would love to!" He slaps Bucky on the back and then gives him a slight shove forward towards the doorway.

Y/n hears more voices and walks into the living room from the kitchen to join them as they file in through the front door. Following the same steps Nora had done previously, you greet Bucky and Sam with a hug while thanking them.

"Food should be ready in about 10 minutes. You guys wanna grab a seat in the kitchen? I'll grab some drinks. Theo should be here any second, you can fill us in on the latest shenanigan," Nora sighs walking over towards the fridge.

"I need more stories on this kid. Has he always been like this? I'm a little offended he didn't ask me to be his uncle," Sam jokes following Nora into the kitchen.

Bucky looks over at you.

"Hi…" you offer a small wave.

"Hi," he smirks back.

"Should I be worried about what has come out of his mouth this time?"

His smirk stays as he places a quick kiss to your cheek and walks into the kitchen without further comment.

Your eyes widen, "Wait, where are you going?? Bucky! What did he say??"

The adults all sat at the kitchen table.

Theo arrived home right as Bucky started his explanation of getting a call from the NYPD to collect his nephew.

"I spoke to him quickly before I went to talk to Y/n earlier. I should have known something was up after the 5th Party Rock loop. It just kept going. I assumed he was working on a dance routine or something," Nora looked over to Theo.

"Never trust Party Rock Anthem," Theo shook his head solemnly.

"Party Rock was not in the house tonight," she answers with a deadpan tone.

"Everybody just wants a good time," Theo continues while standing up, "but he's definitely gon' make us lose our minds.."

"We just wanna see you - shake that," Nora points over at him.

"Ev'ry day I'm shuff-shufflin'." Theo dances over to the staircase, "Prisoner number 6-2-4, your gruel is ready!" He shouts up the stairway.

Benji speeds his way down, "Hiya Dad, how was your day? You're looking great today. New shirt?"

"Wow, only butt-kissing level 5? You've done better than that. Let's go, menace." He walks back into the kitchen

"It's wild here and I love it. Hey Buck, we could be brother-husbands! …Misterwives? Co-husbands??" Bucky glares at him, "We can workshop it later," Sam sends him a wink with a nudge.

Nora laughs while your cheeks heat up across from them.

"Can I show Bucky something upstairs?" Benji asks as everyone cleans up from dinner.

"In your room?" Nora asks, suspicious of more shenanigans.

"Uh, yeah…? Please! It'll be quick."

Benji grabs Bucky's hand and leads him up the stairs.

"This is my room," he points towards the open doorway leading to his room as they walk by, "but this is what I wanted to show you," he opens a door at the end of the hallway that leads to another set of stairs going up to the attic space.

"Ta-daaa!" Benji flips the switch at the top of the stairs, turning on the soft string lights set up around the room. A blanket fort with lights was set up surrounding the large plush sofa, various pillows and piles of soft and fluffy blankets scattered along both the sofa and the floor in front of it. Fake candles and lanterns dotted around the area. A large stack of movies rests on the floor next to an empty bowl labeled "popcorn" and a dusty bottle of wine.

A large projector screen was set up across from the sofa fort with lights also surrounding it, and in the middle was a projector on top of a tripod facing the screen.

"This is our movie hang out room. I made some additions to it. You and Aunt Y/n should have a movie night!" He grins up at the stunned brunette.

"Pal, this is… wow.. This is a really cool setup you have here..."

Two sets of footsteps joining them can be heard, "Benjamin if I come up here and you have Bucky locked up or something, I swear- whoa," you stop short and look around, "What's all this??"

"A movie night for you and Bucky!" Benji bounces up and down, arms out wide.

"What the shiiii-zz," Sam corrects himself in present company, "This is incredible. Now I'm really doubling down on misterwives. Does that popcorn machine over in the corner work??"

After a heavy back and forth debate, Benji somehow convinced Bucky to stay for a movie and Sam to come back another night for the next family movie marathon.

Benji had grabbed Sam's sleeve and tugged him to follow back downstairs.

"Will you sign my Captain America car Bucky got me? What's your favorite kind of car? Do you have a car or do you just use your wings? Can I see redwing next time??"

"Good luck, Sam!" You called down to him.

"Night lovebirds!"

You look over at Bucky, "I'm sorry for self-destructing the other night… I didn't want to overload you. There's been a lot of schemes by an 8 year old going on," you motion around you.

"Well, friend," he gives you a cheeky look, "with how hard Benji has been working on his schemes, your avoidance skills have been understandable. I don't blame you for not wanting to be with some well past his time grump like me that has a questionable history an-"

"That's not what I meant. I just wanted you to have your own choice in all of this. I know how persuasive that little punk can be. I feel bad we've essentially kidnapped you multiple times now."

"Not exactly kidnapping if I've been willingly showing up. I'll let you in on a secret though. When we walked out at the start of that event, I noticed both of you before Benji even walked up to ask his question. Benji was fidgeting, tugging at your sleeve and you- and your hair," he chuckles, tugging at a rogue brightly colored curl, "caught my attention almost immediately. Something was already pulling me to both of you before the schemes even began and I'm honored for whatever crazy reason it brought me here."

You hold your pinky up, "Promise you'll tell us if the crazy gets to be too much?"

He hooks his pinky around yours and tugs you in, his lips brushing against yours. You eagerly return his kiss, pushing up on your toes slightly to better reach.

Bucky pulls back and smirks, "Do your worst."

"Don't let him hear you say that," you laugh pulling him back in.

-

You both moved to the sofa as you looked over the stack of movies Benji set aside, "Of course…such a punk."

"What?" Bucky asks, trying to see the titles you were looking at.

"I really should have seen this one coming. There seems to be a theme going on here with his selections for us," you turn the stack towards him.

The Princess Bride,

Arsenic and Old Lace,

The Wedding Singer,

Corpse Bride,

My Big Fat Greek Wedding,

The Proposal,

Just Married,

The Wedding Planner,

27 Dresses,

Bride of Chucky,

and Shrek.

"Arsenic and Old Lace? Is this a wedding movie too?"

"Kind of? It starts with a couple from Brooklyn eloping at city hall. Mostly it's about two older aunts poisoning men and shoving them in their window seat…Fun times. The back says it's from 1944, have you heard of it?"

He shakes his head, "I shipped out in '43."

"Right. Well, one of my favorite lines from it is highly relatable. He goes I probably should have told you this before, but insanity runs in my family…it practically gallops. I should print that on a custom welcome mat for our front door," you laugh.

He holds up Shrek next, "and this one with the green guy…?"

"I actually think you'll enjoy the friendship between Shrek and Donkey in that one. Their banter reminds me of another pair you may know," you give him a side eye glance.

"He's friends with a donkey? What is the green guy supposed to be? He doesn't marry the donkey, right?"

"Yup, we're watching this one. Pass the popcorn bowl, pleease. I'll go fill it." You grin as you kiss his cheek.

(😉🧩❤️ did you catch the reference? ☝️)

If you have any diabolical ideas, my asks are open. If it sparks an idea you just might get lucky to see more 😏

Thanks again for your submission @kilikina34512 🥰

"I’m so in love already with Benji! I could see this boy somehow getting lost at the park and telling a police officer, “Can you call my Uncle instead of my mom? He’s the Winter Soldier!” and having Bucky come get him just to keep from getting in trouble with his mom! 😂"

Next: Part 5 Meddlingpunkitis

Taglist:

@pono-pura-vida @bitchy-bi-trash @random-writer-23 @jvanilly @clintsupremacy @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @firstcashheroathlete @stany0url0calwh0res111 @sjsmith56 @eliwinchester99 @tbhidkbutok @babymady @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @its-daydreamer23 @capswife @thecubanator2 @wintermunsonreads @buckybarnessimpp @moon-light1928 @emily-roberts @jeanbarton @ilovetaquitosmmmm @lottiehernandez @tellenically @trixxietat @imdoingbetternow @maximoffrogersslut @samsgirl93 @lovebittenbyevans @inwhichiramble @jbuckybarnesfan @daemonslittlebitch @marvel88 @spiderman-stilinski @marvelfreakgirl @tinkerbelle67 @assassinscross @foolishwaitersblog @jasminex12 @buckysbaby-doll

[itsabouttimex2]

A Brand New Journey:

Part Three

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

The screen of your phone is lit up with a cheerful blue, displaying a picture of a shipping container that’s been converted into a restaurant, decorated with images of stylized kittens and tea bags.

Swipe.

Glowing reviews from visitors, praising service and atmosphere. Even more praise for the tea. Overwhelming adulation for the felines present at the establishment. The only thing that’s lacking is information on the food.

Swipe.

Pictures of the menu, drawn on a standing chalkboard easel. The prices are fair and reasonable, each item having a printed photo pinned up near the flowery writing.

Swipe.

The most recent deal of the day- for mooncakes. Buy one box of six, get one box of six free. And for a slight upcharge to the original price of the first box, two bottled drinks.

Click.

That was… entirely unhelpful. You would have expected your mentor to comment on the picture you had sent, or maybe to be told what flavor they’d like you to pick up- but it seemed that he had either not seen it or simply thought you were giving him an update on your general status.

Also, you really had to get his information updated. Since no one else ever really touched your phone, you’d probably be safe putting his name and a photo- all you had to do was talk him into holding still for a picture.

Aside from all that…

The restaurant was close enough that you could walk to it on foot, so it’s not as though you’d be out so long that you’d miss training. The deal was incredibly good- and each customer could use it twice for a total of four boxes and four drinks, which meant that even after having a meal with your mentor there’d be leftovers to snack on after long training sessions.

All you had left in your fridge was… what was it? A jar of peanut butter, several bananas, some yogurt aaand… maybe a few protein bars? Oh, and several bags of mixed nuts.

You make a quick note to restock your post-workout snacks the next time you come into Megapolis. Concealer, too.

You plug in your headphones and turn on directions, then shove your phone into the pocket of your bag, heading towards the restaurant.

Although you don’t get to the city as often as you once did, it’s a sort of ‘second home’ to you. The air is fresh, the people are kind. The streets are clean. The food is very good.

You love it, a little bit.

Your thoughts soon turn away from the city and back towards your mentor, who you had never managed to talk into a visit, even for just an hour. Sure, he’d indulge in the snacks and drinks you brought around. And he seemed a little interested in the locations you offered to bring him to.

So much coaxing and reassuring, so many proffered hoodies and sunglasses to disguise his face- but he hadn’t ever accepted them.

You would get him out for a trip one of these days, you had sworn to yourself. Drag him out to the zoo or a museum. Maybe one of the public gardens.

But, until then…

You’d just have to enjoy the all the wonders of the city by yourself-

Like the converted shipping container that’s standing in front of you, labeled “Mo’s Cakes”, and painted blue. The “o” is a replica of the moon, painted so that the famous ‘bunny’ mark is actually a cat.

The craftsmanship is incredible, and it doesn’t look too crowded… so you hurry and go inside, peering at the menu.

…what would he like? With twenty-four mooncakes in total, you could introduce him to- no, it wouldn’t be introducing, really. He had probably had lots of these before. They’re a popular food throughout China, and tons of stores sell them in Megapolis. But with how far out you had to go to see him, it felt sometimes like he was an old hermit.

“Excuse me,” calls a gentle voice, standing at the counter. “Can you come over here?”

So not introducing, not really. Maybe there’d be a few new flavors in the mix somewhere he hadn’t tried yet, but it’s not like it’d be his first time eating mooncakes. Maybe a few of the more modern makes. Ice cream filled, perhaps? Or transparent crystal jelly?

“I just need you for a minute, please!”

And then maybe one of these days you could introduce him to several other treats that he might not have had access to. Cheese tea? White Rabbit Candy? Pineapple buns? Hell, there were a couple of “exotic snack” shops in Megapolis. Maybe you could bring a bag of konpeitō or a tin of florecitas for him to try.

“Mo? Could you…?”

Unbeknownst to you, a blue-furred cat sits on one of the many scratching board platforms nailed into the walls, peering down at the customers. He stretches out with a little ‘mrrow’, then leaps from his perch and lands on the space between your shoulder blades.

You’re pretty composed, most of the time.

But when an unseen and very fuzzy thing lands close to your neck and clings tight? It’d have been more of surprise if you hadn’t freaked out.

There’s a few embarrassing seconds spent squealing and flailing around, futilely trying to reach for the furred thing, only stopping when someone grabs your shoulders. Warmth and power in equal amounts enfold your upper arms, two hands lifting you off the ground, turning you around, and placing you in front of the checkout counter.

“You must be Y/N!” The man- not quite a human, now that you get a better look at him- says, hurrying back to his station. When he holds his arms out, the cat on your back leaps in them. “Pigsy’s been telling me about you!”

“…Mister Pigsy told you about me?”

The river demon smiles ear to ear, baring fangs that would be intimidating on anyone else. But with his pink apron and blue cat and white sweatpants, he’s actually really endearing.

“He did,” the demon confirms, one large hand reaching out to meet the one you tentatively offer. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N! I’m Sandy, and this is Mo!”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mister Sandy. And you, Mo.”

“Aww, you’re so polite!” Sandy warmly praises, still grinning. “Thanks, little guy!”

His words might have been patronizing from another mouth. But there’s a genuine sincerity in them, a kindness blooming from every word that makes them feel truly flattering instead of condescending.

“Um, then… you must be one of Mister Pigsy’s friends, right?”

“That’s right! We’ve known each other for along time, actually! Now, what can I do you for?”

“Oh, um… is the buy one get one deal still… going on, like, currently? I wanted something to, uh… share with my mentor, and this seemed like a good deal, so I thought… to come check?”

Smooth, Y/N. Tell him you have a mentor and stumble over your words. Typical, really.

“That’s sweet of you,” he eagerly says, uncaring of your fumbling. “Two boxes or four, kiddo?”

“Four, please. I’m trying to introduce him to, uh, new things. He’s kinda, I guess… traditional with what he eats?”

“I can get you two of a few things so you can try them together!”

“Oh, um, please! And thank you, Mister Sandy!”

“Of course, of course! And what four teas?”

“Two green and two oolong, please!”

“Coming right up!”

———————————————————————

…today has been a good day. You got to see MK and Pigsy again, and made what you think is probably a new friend. And you’ve got twenty four mooncakes to share and good, healthy tea for workouts. And for such a good deal, too- Sandy had applied a “friend” discount almost without you realizing it, probably because you were dear to someone he cherished. You had slipped a tip under Mo’s collar before you left, under the guise of giving him scratches.

As you head back to your mentor’s house, the events play on repeat. Today was a really good day. And, as you look ahead of you, it only gets better.

The trees down the path are newly blooming, it seems. Each one branches proudly towards the sky, standing tall. Down the middle of the path is a neatly paved stream, full of aquatic flora blossoming in the crystal waters.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

hear me out... jjk characters at the cookout

jjk characters at the cookout

tags: headcanons, gn!reader, black!reader a/n: honestly this sent me into an intellectual overdrive. the hold jjk has on the black community needs to be studied

suguru

bro says "monkey" one time and gets jumped

he's pretty chill

suguru can take a joke and toss them right back with a grin and feel completely relaxed

he is punctual when he wants to leave thouh and will side eye if you told him "we're gonna leave" and you're still there an hour later

overall he enjoys himself. family is important to him so it means a lot to suguru to be included and accepted by yours

your older relatives might ask a bit about his gauges but he's classy enough that it doesn't matter by the end of the conversation. suguru is quite charming when he wants to be

yuuji

"i like em tall with a fat ass like megan thee stallion"

yuuji won over your cousins pretty much immediately with one take and one take alone

you leave yuuji alone for one second and the mf has a coordinated dance with them and your family is hyping them up

your family would honestly adore yuuji, he fits right in

he had them in a loving death grip when he said he was ready for the collard greens, beans, potatoes, tomatoes, lamb, ram, hog mog

falls right into the trap of staying way longer than you planned even though you started saying your goodbyes 45 minutes ago

can perfectly quote katt william's "whose goddamn white baby is this?" scene

promises to bring his older brothers to the next family get together

the guy your aunties call 'baby' with all the affection in the world

somehow knows all the dances? candy by cameo comes on and an uncle goes "what you know about this right here, young buck?"

passed his test with ease. like, do not come to the next get together without yuuji. they will notice

megumi

he wouldn't realize that your family is just teasing and wonder if they legitimately don't like him until you reassure him it's just familial roasting. just say something dumb right back, megumi

has to be dragged out the corner to really interact with anybody else

megumi isn't really a party person and an extrovert but due to most of his close circle being extroverted, he does know how to manage his energy so he isn't completely drained after a short while of being there

answers all questions about your relationship seriously and sincerely

megumi might be quiet but your family likes his honesty. bring his ass back next time

satoru

honorary light skin

toji

honorary dark skin

kento

the man your cousins wish they had; he's literally the epitome of "as a man, you should be doing x, y and z". you know it and when you bring him over, your family knows it

he helped with the dishes without even being prompted and hearts were stolen

being a foodie, kento will be grabbing seconds and knowing your family he won't be leaving empty handed either

he's invited to breakfast by your mom before you leave

mostly needs to be sought out for interactions like megumi. he won't turn anyone away, he welcomes the conversations he's just not a big go getter

you can convince him to dance when a slow jam comes on and enjoys how your face lights up in recognition when older songs your parents played in your childhood comes on

like yuuji, if you don't bring kento to the next family get together don't even bother coming because they'll ask over and over again why he couldn't make it

satoru fr this time

his ass cannot stay out of the banana pudding. so much so, most of the leftovers you take home are just containers of it. says he'll leave you if you don't learn the family recipe

like suguru, satoru can handle your family's teasing and he teases right back

let's your younger cousins wear his sunglasses if they ask

"wait if they're called tony toni toné why aren't none of them called tony?" "satoru please don't ask this right now" "no because-"

if they didn't know you were dating someone before you brought satoru over, they'd definitely know when he arrives. he's always draped over you and he's happy to let the world know

when pulled to the side to ask if he's serious about the relationship, satoru's usual bravado drops to tell your relative calmly he's 100% serious

he's a good time. dances even if he doesn't know the songs, sings along when he does and he'll leave somehow knowing everyone's names when you don't even remember half of who showed up

toji fr this time

fits in surprisingly well, your family is a hell of a lot better than his

tall, charismatic, got a deep voice and big feet. you and your cousins will be gossiping and swooning about it

toji is no stranger to being on a family's least favorite list. he's got plenty experience from his relatives, he only cares that megumi and tsumiki are treated well when he brings them along. if they're treated right, toji has no problems

danced with a good chunk of your aunties, your mom and a cousin or two in order to cement winning them over successfully but you got the most dances out of all of them

"someone's been quite busy, mr i don't care if they like me or not" "i don't but it doesn't hurt to gain approval anyway. your aunt virginia already invited me to her son's wedding" "i haven't even gotten my invite to quan's wedding yet" "sounds like i'm the family favorite to me"

[harrywavycurly]

Still shy anon 🫣

If I may be so bold as to ask for a lil snippet of Eddie officially asking Reader out after the baby shower. 🥹🩷

(ONLY IF YOU WANT TO.)

Hiii lovey!! It’s totally okay to be shy I get it!! But yes of course you can get Eddie asking Reader out! I hope you enjoy💖

-find all things It Was Just One Night here✨

“I think that went well…” “why do they make cakes out of diapers? I don’t get it? Just give us a box of diapers?” “I think they do it to be..more creative than just handing you a box of boring diapers?” “She got so many cute little outfits.” “She did…I saw you cry over a tiny Aerosmith shirt.” “So? You cry every time you see one of her socks.” “They are so fucking tiny how can you not cry looking at them?…what are you eating?” “Leftover snacks..this is banana with peanut butter dipped in chocolate.” “That’s the least weird snack you’ve had this whole pregnancy…” “so…Edward can we get this over with are so you still wanna talk about snacks and baby clothes?” “You make it seem like I’m about to do something horrible.” “Are you staling? Oh god did you change your mind? That’s totally fine if you did.” “Will you rel-” “we’ve talked about saying the R word Edward James…” “sorry…but no I didn’t change my mind…uh do you maybe wanna stop eating for a moment?…please.” “Do I need to stand up for this or something? You’re making me anxious.” “No you can stay seated…sorry I’m kinda uhm…you…you make me fucking nervous.” “Do you wanna hold my hand will that help?” “Uh sure….thanks.” “No problem…okay…I’m ready…go for it.” “Okay uhm…I was wondering if…you’d like to go on a date with me?” “I’ll have to check with my baby daddy…he gets kinda jealous when I hang out with other men.” “I can’t stand you.” “Yes Eddie I’d love to go on a date with you…” “how does tomorrow night sound?” “Sounds good to me…what are we gonna do?” “It’s a surprise….I know you just love a good surprise.” “Oh yeah..they make me so…happy.” “You can go back to eating your snack now…I’m gonna go put all Dotty’s stuff in her room…”