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solarmorrigan · 4 months

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I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things post s2 AU #stranger things #this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k #is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go!#eddiesteve #solar wrote

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neil-gaiman · 10 months

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hey mr gaiman. i saw that this post got revisited and wanted to address it.

i submitted this ask over a year ago on my old account and it was one of the stupidest things i ever did. it was my first tumblr account. id only been really online for a few weeks. i was 13. i was just coming back to school after a global pandemic.

ive been a fan of good omens for years and a fan of yours for longer. i was brought up reading odd and the frost giants and fortunately the milk, and as i got older i fell in love with your norse mythology book, good omens, snow glass apples, the sleeper and the spindle, and more.

i was excited to see one of my favorite authors on tumblr and tried to come up with the most bold and interesting ask i could think of.

i was rude and misinformed and it was a stupid choice of me to send it in with no thought.

but i got feedback. some in the form of kind suggestions. quite a few in the form of death threats and people telling me to kill myself.

while those specific messages were rude and hateful, the point got across. i educated myself to the best of my abilities, and eventually came back online.

not only did i misuse the term queerbaiting but i also implied that you were not an amazing supporter of the queer community. that’s absolutely incorrect. you’ve done so much for us with activism, representation, and overall kindness.

i wanted to address this ask that got so much attention because despite moving accounts i still feel guilt and shame every time i see it, or even when i interact with any of your posts at all. i need to actually address it.

also, i wanted a proper apology to be made. by no means am i now a saint. but im trying to be more thoughtful about thinking before i speak.

whether or not you decide to make a public response to this, i think ill find some peace knowing you’ve received this. ive needed closure on this for a long time.

im overjoyed and thrilled that season two is so close. thank you for tolerating the dumb questions of pretentious kids and thank you for helping to create a world where we can grow to be better than we were.

First of all, and most importantly, I'm really sorry that people were mean to you. That's awful. And nobody should ever have to deal with death threats or online threats and attacks, let alone a thirteen year old.

And secondly, you do not owe me an apology. I figure I have a Tumblr account, people ask things. Mostly they'll get nice replies, occasionally (normally when I'm being asked the same thing over and over) the replies will be terser. There has to be a certain amount of rough and tumble though, and occasionally I'll grab an ask that represents all of the asks I've had on that subject, and try and reply to all of them. That's what happened to you. I was getting tired of being accused of Queerbaiting for the occasional answer about a Season that was not yet released and about which nobody knew anything. And I needed to tell everyone who was doing this that they had to stop now. You had the misfortune to be the representative of all of the other people.

If you are not making mistakes you are not human and you are not learning anything.

(I wish there was tone of voice on the internet.)

And I think you are growing and learning and will make a fantastic adult.

I really hope you enjoy Season 2 when it drops.

#And I hope as many people are nice and supportive about this post #as were mean about that first one

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youryanderedaddy · 4 months

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Tw: female reader, nsfw, m!sub to m!dom, con to dub-con/non-con, slight degradation, hinted baby trapping My Ko - fi <3

When you and Gerald started hooking up, you didn't think much of it. Sure, it was fun to play around with your high - school enemy turned academic rival now that both of you were in the same old prestigious college. And you would be lying if you said that it didn't stroke your ego to have the man who used to underestimate you all your childhood pussy drunk and wrapped around your little finger. But nowadays he was just acting off - even for his nerdy oddball self.

Before he used to feel so nervous around you, cheeks growing hot at your light - hearted touch. Your rival used to let you lead - with your body, with your eyes keeping him down, groaning underneath you as you rode him to overstimulation. He always broke beautifully, crying out your name as your heat milked him dry over and over again. He was quite cute like that, moaning obscenely, happy to let you use him as a stress toy.

But slowly things started to change. As university work kept piling up and the once friendly environment turned hostile and competitive, your fuck buddy caved to the pressure. His clear green eyes muddied, turning gray - and his fist would wrap around your hair unprompted, pulling instead of caressing. His kisses got desperate, aggressive - he wasn't trying to please you, but devour you completely. Even his tongue, once so sweet and wanton, turned sharp and degrading.

"Like that, little slut?" Gerald would hiss in your ear while taking you from behind - only stopping to slap your ass when you didn't nod quickly enough. "Just like I thought." He would smirk, and it reminded you of that stupid self satisfied grin he used to do in the past when he managed to beat you at something. "I should have known you were only good for one thing." He'd keep going, egging himself on as he thrust into you roughly.

You, for one, didn't care. In a way you even liked the change in him - it was new and exciting to let him take control and ruin you for once. You just needed to take off some steam - you could play both the master and the slave, the dominant and the submissive; as long as he made you cum your brains out, you were content enough.

The thing was, this change was too sudden to be organic or born out of desire. The shift in his behavior had been too frantic, too emotional - and the trigger seemed to be you once again. You two had just started a new course together - perhaps the most important one in your career so far. You were tasked with a big project and you were making a lot of progress - so much so that your professor had tried to find you a start-up sponsor, something most students weren't granted unless they were close to graduating. Gerald didn't like that - although he didn't make it known at first.

The next time you met him, he insisted you go to his place. It was your first time stepping foot inside his den - which was, frankly, equally exciting and nerve - wrecking.

He greeted at you at the door - said his roommate won't be coming back today, so you have the whole flat to yourselves. Your rival had even cooked dinner for you along with your favourite dessert. The whole romantic atmosphere made you feel uncomfortable - you had never seen Gerald as anything more than some quick weekend fun, but your well mannered nature prevailed and you didn't say anything.

Eventually he got you laying on his small creeking bed, naked and tipsy off cheap wine. You were giggling when your lips met - his tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, although he didn't really smoke. There was something weird in the air tonight, but you were too drunk and horny to figure out what exactly.

Gerald started fucking into you with slow precision, making sure to hit your sweet spot - licking the tears off your cheeks as you cried out in pleasure.

"You feel like Heaven." He whispered, burying his head in your neck, his nose tickling your sensitive skin. "And you smell so good. So perfect for me." The man kept blabbering. His words began to sober you up - there were nothing like his initial boyish whimpers or the degrading praise he'd shower you in nowadays. This felt... genuine. Rehearsed. Somehow it made your skin crawl.

"You're too fucking pretty for your own good." He murmured to himself, bottoming out just to push himself all the way inside you - making you whine pathetically. You couldn't even think properly when he was making you feel so much. "Is that how you got that sponsorship, baby?" The man cooed at you, cupping your cheek - voice dropping dangerously. "Did you spread your legs for Mr. Smith like a nasty little whore? Hm? Is your dignity so cheap you're willing to do anything to climb the ladder now?"

He was rubbing his tip along your slit, teasing you in just the right way - but even the electric joints of pleasure weren't enough to numb the pain his words had caused you.

"What do you mean? I've never done anything like that!" You stated defensively, pushing at his chest - but he didn't bulge. "We've known each other since forever. You should know better to than to throw such baseless accusation. I'm capable - I'd never sink so low t–

He didn't wait for you to finish, driving into you with mad ferocity, eyes almost black now.

"I know. I know!" Your rival screamed as if possessed by a madman - then gripped your shoulders tightly, shaking you to your core. "But I don't need you to be capable. I don't need you to be smart or strong or ambitious." His nails were digging into your flesh, but you didn't dare complain. "I just need you to be mine."

You opened your mouth, ready to confront him - to ask him what the fuck was going on, whether this was even real, or just a cruel joke on his part. But you couldn't because in the next moment you felt his warm seed filling you up so deep it dripped down your thighs. You closed your eyes, terrified. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be coming inside you when he knew fully well that you weren't on the pill. Fuck.

"All mine."

#yandere #yancore #yandere smut #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader

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steddiealltheway · 7 months

Text

Steve can see it in Max. That same loneliness and ache that he finds in himself. For him, it’s result of his parents leaving with no intent to return to him unless absolutely necessary.

He knows he was an accident. Or rather a mistake as his father used to call him when he was particularly angry. But it made sense to him. Steve's the reason his father had to marry his mother. He left him "trapped." And maybe no one says it out loud, but he can tell his mother feels the same way too.

But they must keep up appearances, right?

Which is what Max has been trying to do since Billy died, El moved away, and it's been just her and her mom. But she's been going about it through a different route - pushing people away all while pretending things are fine. But Steve sees the way she picks up the broken pieces of her mom and tries to put them back together - Steve's had to do the same thing before.

So, he starts sticking around a little longer. Offering her more rides to the arcade and around town to pick up groceries when she needs to. Sometimes he'll tell her about a new recipe he's been trying for a casserole and pick up the ingredients, pretending like the milk and butter he bought will spoil by the time he drives home from her trailer.

Of course, they both know it's a lie, but Max humors him and plays along. She'll let him cook dinner while she picks up the bottles her mom left on the floor, dumps out the overflowing ashtray, and feeds the dog. Usually, Steve will ask her what she's learning in school and linger a little longer than usual in hopes that she'll say more than the usual, "I don't know. A bunch of boring stuff."

But lingering has gotten a lot of things out of Max such as her love for Kate Bush, a story about El and how much she misses her, and short quips about Lucas before she gets a sad smile on her face. Steve doesn't really know what to say most of the time, but he hopes that just being there will help.

Unfortunately, lingering and just being there has led him to his current predicament of none other than Eddie "The Freak" Munson sitting on the hood of his car glaring at him as he walks out of Max's place. Steve jumps a little, startled by the figure on his car and becoming more hostile as he sees the expression on his face. He shoves his hands in his pockets and slows his pace. "Is there a problem?"

Eddie snorts humorlessly. "Christ. You're really going to pretend like there's nothing wrong with what's happening?"

Steve's brows furrow, entirely missing whatever point he's trying to make.

Eddie stands up and stalks toward him. "I see you, you know. Always lurking around when her mom isn't home. Coming out of her trailer late at night."

Steve laughs, finally understanding the absurd conclusion he's come to. "Jesus, man. You're delusional."

Steve doesn't expect it, but Eddie sharply shoves his chest and grits, "I don't fucking lie to me, Harrington."

Steve holds his hands up. "I'm not," he firmly states. "Nothing like that is happening here. I'm glad you're looking out for her, but it isn't like that."

"Do you expect me to believe that? Maybe this is why you're always hanging around Henderson and the other kids."

Steve crosses his arms and his jaw tenses. "I'm not a fucking pervert or a pedophile if that's what you're trying to say. I'm just looking after them."

"Why?" Eddie asks, dramatically opening his arms, "Why would King Steve adopt a group of misfits to take under his wing? See, the math isn't adding up."

Usually, Steve would just brush it off and tell the person to fuck off and mind their own business. But his parents have just left town again without leaving a note and Max had snapped when Steve tried to help her clean the place because it looked worse than usual, and he was just generally feeling like shit and angry at his parents and Max's parents for not being there. So he broke, "Because I don't want Max to end up like me! I don't want any of those kids to grow up without a role model. And god forbid if any of those other kids' parents fuck up, and they’re left with only me. I need them to know that I'm there for them! Because sometimes it feels like whenever the world goes to shit, I'm the only one who is there, and I plan to stay there, okay?!"

He finishes his rant breathing a little heavier than usual and noticing that a few of the lights in the trailers have turned on around them. He looks around and awkwardly nods to the people glaring out their windows. God, he needs to get a grip.

When he turns back to Eddie, he notices the conflicted expression, jaw dropped, eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching him as if he's still wondering if he's lying.

A door creaks open behind them and Steve curses under his breath as he hears Max say, "Eddie, leave him alone. Do you really think I would hook up with my damn babysitter? Jeez."

"Language," Steve quietly lectures as the door swings shut. He runs his hands over his face and takes a deep breath. It's been a long fucking day.

A hand lands on his arm and tugs him away from Max's trailer. Steve glances up at Eddie, leading him across the way. "Where are we going?"

"My place," Eddie says.

"Why?"

"So we can talk."

God, the last thing he wants to do is talk to Eddie of all people, the guy he's been actively avoiding since Dustin started worshipping the ground - or rather tables - he walks on. But he lets himself be pulled away in the trailer and practically deposited on the couch in the living room.

He glances up and comments, "That's a lot of mugs."

"My uncle's, but that's not what I wanted to... Christ," Eddie says, pacing in front of Steve and tugging his hair in front of his face. The anxious display makes Steve feel even more tired, but he lets him pace. God, what is he even doing here?

"I'm sorry," Eddie blurts out. "I'm just..." he trails off and rushes over to grab a stool a few feet away before dragging it in front of the couch. He sits on it but his leg still holds that nervous energy as it rapidly bounces up and down. "I jumped to conclusions, and it was really shitty of me, man. I just... didn't believe what Henderson was saying about you and thought 'Oh, this makes way more sense than Steve Harrington being a good dude.' And I'm sorry to accuse you of that. And I... I didn't know about your... parents and stuff. Like I knew they were away a lot because of your parties but... I just never connected the dots. And I'm sorry. No one deserves that shit, man."

Steve doesn't know what to do this whole interaction, especially with it coming from Eddie Munson who he doesn't think he's ever talked to before this moment, but... he needs to hear it. God, he needs to hear it.

Of course, he can't let him know this, so he does what he's best at and brushes it off. "It's fine. You were just looking out for the kids. And really just ignore what I said back there, it isn't that big of a deal."

Eddie worries his bottom lip before he blurts out, "I know what it's like." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "I mean, I know what it's like to have... absent parents. But in my case, eventually, my uncle Wayne took me in, and I can only imagine if he didn't." He gives him a pointed look and lowers his voice, "Do you have someone like that?"

A big part of Steve wants to leave right now, and he knows there's nothing stopping him. But a bigger part of him needs to stay. Needs to talk about the emptiness in his house that he can never truly escape at the end of the day that he can’t talk to anyone about. Because he's not supposed to be weak. He's supposed to take care of the others. So he admits, "No, I don't have... anyone like that. Except Robin but..."

"That's different," Eddie finishes the thought for him.

Steve nods. He loves Robin, but he loves her as a platonic soulmate and not as a parent figure in his life. "You know, I once had this basketball coach in middle school - Mr. Weston. And I remember looking up to him so much. I wanted to be just like him, and I would go to his office during lunch and ask him for advice or talk about dumb shit that my father would never talk about. But he never shamed me for my questions. And sometimes he even packed an extra dessert for me." Steve smiles at the memories and runs a hand through his hair, remembering the day he got the news. "But one time, when I went to his office, he had this look on his face. And I just knew it was bad news. And really, it wasn't bad news to him because his wife was pregnant. But she wanted to move a few states away to raise the kid closer to her family. And it wasn't his fault, you know? It wasn't like he purposely chose to move away from me, but I felt like I was abandoned again."

Steve wipes a tear from his eye and puts his head in his hands. "God, I don't know why I'm even telling you this story. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Eddie says quickly. He pauses and shifts on the stool, his gaze being far away. "I remember him. He was one of the only gym teachers that defended me against all the shitty middle school bullies. He was a good person.”

Steve nods. God, he was a good person.

Eddie continues, “I'm sorry that he left. And I bet he still regrets leaving you behind."

Steve leans back against the couch and looks away, shaking his head. "I bet he forgot about me."

"You're kind of hard to forget."

Steve looks at Eddie and sees a slight blush on his cheeks as he shakes his head and waves his hands as if trying to make the comment go away. "What I mean is that there's no way he's forgotten about you. Someone who you used to have lunch with all the time to the point of giving you free food... Nah, man. He remembers you. I think you may have been as important to him as he was to you."

The thought breaks away at a wall Steve had built up long ago. "Thanks," he practically whispers.

Eddie just smiles at him, small dimples appearing on his cheeks.

"You didn't deserve it either, you know," Steve says. "The absent parent stuff. Even with Wayne, they should've been here too."

Eddie's smile falters a bit as he swallows and looks at the ground. "Thanks," he mumbles. He looks up at Steve and comments, "Getting sappy with Steve Harrington. Who knew."

"Yeah, getting sappy with Eddie Munson," Steve echoes back at him.

Eddie laughs, "I'm surprised you even know my name."

"You're kind of hard to forget," Steve says easily.

That same blush comes back to Eddie who shifts in his chair a bit as if he needs to process the information with his whole body.

They sit in the moment for a bit before Eddie gets a somewhat serious look on his face and offers, "You know, I'm definitely not a parent figure or anything, but I'm always here and around to talk about that whole thing if you need to."

Steve's heart beats a little faster at the sheer genuineness. "Same here," he can't help but offer in return. He glances down at his watch and sighs, "It's getting late, so I better..."

"Right," Eddie says, standing up and leading him to the door. "Do you need water for the road or anything?"

Steve smiles and pats him on the back without thinking too hard about it. "I'm good, man. But thank you. For everything really."

"Sorry for being an asshole," Eddie apologizes again.

"Usually that's my line," Steve accidentally voices before cringing a bit, wondering further why Eddie's been so kind to him.

But as he opens the door, Eddie comments, "I don't know. It seems like Dustin was right about the whole reformed jock thing. Maybe your crown really has fallen - which is a good thing by the way."

Steve slightly smiles at him before he turns to leave. But he can't help but say, "I wonder what the neighbors will think about me leaving your trailer so late."

Eddie groans then laughs. "Sorry to ruin your image."

"I wouldn't mind," Steve replies, honestly unsure what he means by that. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight, Steve," Eddie says, that same blush on his cheeks, only this time Steve isn't sure if it's something he said or a result of the cold night air.

In bed that night, Steve feels a slight weight lifted from him and can't help but feel like he’s a little less alone.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #leave it to Eddie to tell Steve the things he needs to hear #sometimes it just shakes me to the core when I realize how alike they are #like yes. they absolutely have their differences #but at the core they have similar experiences that they need to process #and really I think they need each other #because they’re both so willing to die for others and see the worth in everyone but themselves #but put them together and that worth goes back and forth #I just see them learning a lot from each other #and it’s a really beautiful thing #ANYWAYS #hi guys. thanks for sticking through that massive tag rant thing 💛

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yuwuta · 1 month

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PEOPLE TOLD ME ABOUT THE FLAMES, I COULDN’T SEE THROUGH THE SMOKE — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

cw some kind of college au/boarding school au? this used to be for rodeo station and now just... exists on its own, friends to lovers, megumi has toji and satoru as father figures so are we surprised that he’s a bully and doesn’t really grow out of that phase… anyway, apologies to muta and miwa, 1.3k words

Nobara makes a poor effort to stifle her laughter as Kokichi stomps up to stand in front of you, hair and clothes drenched in chocolate milk, shoes sloshing with each step, and the bandage on the side of his cheek peeling from the wetness.

When you look up at him, you’re unimpressed, and unsurprised, so you resume annotating your lecture notes as if you weren’t interrupted. If Kokichi wanted to stand in a puddle of dripping milk, then so be it—you should have finished your notes yesterday, and you couldn’t get through your other tasks without catching up first.

“Look, I already said I was sorry. I shouldn’t have kept bothering you for your number when you’d already said no,” Kokichi starts, wiping dripping milk from his chin, “Now, will you please call off your guard dog.”

You don’t reply immediately, focused on finishing the last paragraph of the page, much to Kokichi’s dismay, and Nobara’s amusement. He huffs at your silence, frustrated and humiliated, but there’s nothing for him to say or do until you respond. Maybe that’s something he should have considered when he kept trying to talk to you in class. Still, even now, you’re not ignoring Kokichi to embarrass him or string him along; you just want to finish your godforsaken anthropology homework.

“You seem to be under the impression that I can make Megumi start or stop doing anything,” you sigh, put your highlighter down, and tiredly look up at Kokichi, “But I regret to inform you that you’re wrong.”

Kokichi’s nose scrunches in disbelief, an angered hand coming to wave in front of his face, but his dripping clothes result in splashes to his face—and further laughter from Nobara. He sighs out of frustration, trying to put away his pride, but Nobara’s giggling and your nonchalant attitude are really making it difficult for him to take this in stride.

“Okay, you’re fucking with me—and I deserve it, alright? But, Todo already gave me a fucking lecture, Mai won’t look at me, and Megumi is going to rip and stain every single shirt I own at this point.”

“That sounds like your problem,” Nobara snickers, rolling her eyes when Kokichi gives her a glare.

“I'd love to help, Muta, but this is out of my control,” you loll, capping your marker, “Maybe try apologizing to Megumi instead of dripping chocolate milk over notes and shoes.”

“Eh? The hell am I apologizing to him for?”

“You’re the one who pissed him off—how should I know?” you sigh, sliding your pens and markers into your bag, and closing your folder.

Nobara pipes in to taunt, “You’d better figure it out soon, though. I hear they’re serving spaghetti tomorrow, and that definitely stains.”

You swear you hear Kokichi growl, but it only makes Nobara laugh harder. The two of them together is a bad combination—Kokichi is easily aggravated, and Nobara easily aggravates. You’re certain that if Megumi weren’t already on his ass, Nobara would have stepped in to bully him just for the fun of it.

Still, you’d rather not have to testify on either of their behalf, so you bid Kokichi a goodbye, offering him your best advice about cleaning milk stains out of white shirts, and drag Nobara by the arm before she can make another quick quip to finally make him snap.

She’s still laughing at Kokichi’s expense all the way back to your dorm, “As much as I like seeing Megumi pummel Muta, he’s definitely gonna get written up, at the very least, if he keeps it up. Just tell him you’re not mad about it anymore, and he’ll piss off.”

You stuff your hands into your pockets, “I don’t control megumi. I didn’t tell him to egg Muta’s car, and pour milk all over him. ”

“Like hell you don’t,” Nobara scoffs, “Kokichi was right about one thing—Megumi’s a doberman on a leash and you’re his owner.”

“I didn’t even tell him that Kokichi kept asking for my number. I’m pretty sure Todo told Yuuji, and Yuuji told Megumi.”

“Yeah, that’s almost worse,” Nobara huffs, “He’s just moved to protect you out of undying loyalty—it must be nice to have a knight in shining armor. Does he call you ‘my liege,’ when you’re alone? He might as well bow down and kiss your shoes with the way he worships the ground you walk on.”

You know Nobara is teasing. The rhetoric that you have influence on Megumi isn’t new to you, but it’s always confusing for you to hear. You’ve known Megumi since grade school, and one thing you’re certain of is that he does things of his own conviction, and when he’s decided something, there’s little anybody can do to convince him otherwise. He’s the true definition of steadfast, and sometimes you wonder if his beliefs have inadvertently made him gain masochistic tendencies, because you’ve seen Megumi suffer in pain just to prove a point.

“Megumi’s his own person, and he’s not easily influenced,” you chuckle, “If anything, he’s more of an attack dog—he bites whenever he sees something he doesn’t like.”

“In any case, he’s your dog,” Nobara shrugs. She pauses for a moment, skipping to catch up to you with a scrunch to her face, “I change my mind though, he’s definitely not scary enough to be a doberman. What are the puffy ones—the really small ones that yap a bunch?”

“Pomeranians?”

She lights up—“Yeah, that’s way more fitting! Plus, he’s got spiky hair like those little mutts, a really bratty, spoiled one too. Gojo probably kept him in his Birkin as a kid.”

You giggle as Nobara searches for an image to compare to one of Megumi. She goes as far as to make a collage and send it in your group chat for approval, instantly getting a rave reaction from Yuuji, and predictably, no response from Megumi.

Nobara walks you back halfway to your dorm, leaving you on your own to head to the gym to meet up with Yuuji. When you get back to your room, you’re not surprised to already see Megumi inside, sitting snugly on your worn-in couch with a book in hand. It’s Wednesday, so he only had morning classes, and prefers to spend his afternoon studying in solace, usually taking advantage of your larger, empty room to get his work done. He gives you a small wave, enraptured in his reading, and you know better than to try and disturb him, so you take your place on the opposite side of the couch with the remainder of your notes in hand, finally having the peace and quiet to finish your annotations.

Megumi finishes his chapter before you’re done, but he waits for you, quietly scrolling on his phone so as not to interrupt you. You don’t face him when you speak, keeping your eyes on your notes, and simply stating, “Kokichi apologized.”

You hear him hum. you know he’s looking at you, but you don’t meet his gaze, and do your best to bite back a smile before he asks, “You forgive him?”

You finish your annotations with a final asterisk at the bottom of your page, so you cap the marker, and finally turn to face Megumi. He doesn’t ask a second time, even as you silently observe him, even if your smile is confusing to him.

“I wasn’t ever really upset,” you explain, “It was annoying, but he wasn’t harassing me or anything.”

He hums again, but it’s not agreeing. “Tsumiki is gonna get mad if you get suspended.”

Megumi calls your bluff with his hum this time, and you sigh. Tsumiki won’t get mad, because Megumi would never get suspended, not as long as Gojo is around as headmaster.

Megumi turns his body inward, raising an arm to rest his elbow against the cushion of the couch. He lolls his head to rest against his palm, cheek squished, and almost mischievous glimmer in his eye. In this light, you see Nobara’s argument—with sleep-tousled hair and expectant eyes, Megumi looks an awful lot like a puppy waiting for a command.

It’s cute, until you realize that Megumi is awaiting your command. Is he?—why would he, he’s never been known to listen, and yet, you’re tempted to see if you truly do have him on some proverbial leash, like everyone else seems to believe.

“Megumi,” you call, softly, “He’s learned his lesson, and I’m fine, alright? Leave him alone.”

Megumi blinks slowly. His features soften, only for a moment, before he’s turned away from you to pick up his book again. He doesn’t respond verbally, doesn’t touch on the topic for the rest of the evening that you both spend studying in your room, but the following day, you walk past Kokichi and Miwa heading into their chemistry lab, and notice a distinct lack of milk or food residue on his clothing or in his hair, so there isn’t anything more to be said.

Megumi is waiting outside of your lecture hall after your last class of the day, offering you a carton of strawberry milk—unopened, and un-thrown. You accept it, reaching up to ruffle his hair as a thank you, and you’re surprised when you feel him move into your touch. He dips his head down a bit further, gently knocking it against yours before straightening up with a sly smile. He nods his head, wordlessly, and turns towards your dorm, ready to walk you back.

You follow, dazed, as you stab the straw into your milk. You’re a half-step behind Megumi, head clouded with confusing new daydreams about the boy in front of you, and now you can’t help but to wonder if you’re the one left to follow Megumi’s whim, or if he’s just pulling you by his own leash.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fluff #jjk imagines #jjk scenarios #gojo x reader #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk fake texts #jjk smau

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verysium · 7 months

Text

ACT 1, SCENE 1: blue lock headcanons

rin is the type to have hyper-fixations, except you would literally never know. this man is discreet, as in batman level of shadiness. one time, he accidentally took too much adderall at 3 a.m. and considered making a shrine of you inside his bedroom closet. he was already halfway done with printing and cutting out your pictures before he realized what he was doing. that was the only time you caught him slipping, and he doesn't even remember most of it. definitely makes little voodoo dolls and sticks pins in the people he hates (looking at you, isagi.)

sae smells like fresh linens and warm laundry. sometimes, if you snuggle up to him, you can also sniff out hints of the sea. if you asked him what shampoo he uses though, he would not know. (it's definitely a 5-in-1 though since this man emphasizes practicality above all else.)

kaiser is secretly a pathetic coward with zero pain tolerance. he had a smug smirk on his face the entire time he got his blue rose tattoo done because of how badly he wanted to impress you. definitely went home later that day and cried from the pain. he would scream and be an overdramatic baby when you tried to remove the saniderm.

rin would insist that he is not like sae in the slightest but then proceeds to act like a sore loser when he doesn't immediately win. do not challenge him to any game that involves a ball. competitiveness runs through the entire itoshi bloodline.

sae is financially illiterate. he would definitely buy you anything you looked at for longer than 0.5 seconds. when the cashier asks him where to send the check, he tells them to ring it all up on his manager. definitely does not know how much is too much.

reo tried to get nagi into houseplants once he saw how lackluster nagi's apartment was. but all of them except the cactus died since nagi forgot to water them. choki is obviously a trooper.

rin is lactose-intolerant, but his gourmand tastebuds only allow him to drink one specific brand of almond milk. would make you drive two hours back to the grocery store just because you accidentally forgot to get the unsweetened version without the artificial vanilla flavoring.

noa is very grounded, mostly due to his background but also because of his personality. definitely the type to be rich but not act rich. he would get along very well with keanu reeves. that's not to say he won't spoil you though. this man would let you have whatever you wanted, so long as it was reasonable.

sae is a horrible gift-giver. every christmas, he gives you socks, a mug, or some random overpriced souvenir he panicked and bought at the airport on the way home. needless to say your kitchen is now overcrowded with jumbo fridge magnets and keychains.

shidou would flirt with the entire female population but with an almost exclusive emphasis on teachers. if you showed up one day wearing a pencil skirt, he would go absolutely feral.

rin used to be the shortest in his class back in primary school. he went home after picture day and cried because they made him stand on the bottom row for the class picture. years later though, he now towers over both you and sae.

chigiri was very close to his older sister when growing up. she definitely forced him into some very embarrassing predicaments. one time, his sister made him model all of her dresses, and he paced around the hallway in full catwalk style for an entire afternoon. because his sister used to play with his hair, he always makes you run your fingers through his locks and do the braids for him. it's a force of habit.

chris heavily overuses cologne despite being the touchiest man in existence. he doesn't understand why people try to distance themselves from him. no one told him he smelled like an entire distilled perfumery until the day you came into his life.

rin gets jealous over sae's fangirls, especially the ones that carry around cardboard signs during games. a fan wants to get married to his brother? not on his watch. you had to physically drag him out one time because he was infinitesimally close to throwing hands.

kunigami is a firm believer in women's rights (and wrongs.) one time his sisters were bullied at school for their dresses, so he showed up fully decked in hello kitty merchandise and a hot pink bow on his head just to show the boys that feminine wear can be cool too. toxic masculinity is actually scared of him.

sae had a teacher phase as a child, except everything was football related. he sat rin down in front of a whiteboard while he took a stick and walked his little brother through every single passing combination in existence. also deliberately gave rin a failing grade because his standards are so high. rin started crying, and sae felt bad, so he changed them all into passing marks.

nagi definitely plays dress up games on his phone. sometimes when you're both rotting in bed on a saturday evening, he asks you if he should use pink or blue eyeshadow for the disney princess for whom he's currently giving a makeover.

sae keeps random hair ties on his wrists. the tabloids used to speculate that those hair ties were evidence for him dating someone in secret. lo and behold, the paparazzi later catches him shopping for groceries with his hair tied up in pigtails. those hair ties are, in fact, only for him.

niko has family issues, no explanation needed. definitely had some unresolved trauma on his mother's side. he secretly thinks he doesn't deserve you, but your kindness is always there to bring him away from his insecurities.

hiori has curated playlists for every mood. his taste is absolutely immaculate. when you go on late night drives with him, he's always in charge of the speakers. doesn't want you to know that music used to be his place of solace during the times his parents were fighting, but the warmth of your hand on his makes him believe that everything will be alright.

rin used to get a high fever at night sometimes, but instead of going straight to his parents, he would creep into his brother's room and hover above the bed like a specter. rin would stand there and just whisper, "sae, i frew up." after he started dating you though, he just climbs under the sheets without asking. please take care of this poor boy.

nagi massacres his exams with absolutely illegible penmanship but then proceeds to get every single question correct. his teacher never put his work up on the wall because it looked entirely like chicken scratch. you had to reteach him the entire alphabet just so people could actually understand his written work.

rin and sae both get sunburnt easily, except sae actually cares for his skin and meticulously puts on sunscreen beforehand. one time, you three all went to the beach and rin was the only one who came home looking like a burnt tomato.

barou used to live with his grandmother every summer, and she would force him to clean the entire house with her. that is where he picked up such good cleaning habits. his personal hygiene is impeccable, and he would love nothing more than to brush his teeth with you every morning and make the bed together. spring cleaning is his favorite hobby.

sae was on spider-catching duty every time there was an arachnid longer than 5 centimeters in the house. he would pick up the spider with bare hands while you and rin both stood in the corner of the bathroom, trying to act cool but internally screaming.

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sintiva · 7 months

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just some eren!

nerd!’ren and reader took it slow when they first met. trips to the library, the icecream shop to get your favorite caramel and pralines double scoop. then his or your dorm when you two had to study some more. it was preferably done in your room, cause he just loved getting the chance to see what new things furnished your dorm. maybe another pillow? a fluffy crocheted blanket? some decor? a new candle. whatever it was it made him happy seeing you swell and overflow with joy.

you’d get all bouncy, dancing around your room on the tip of your toes. slipping off all your clothes till your in nothing but a tank top and some really short shorts with no panties. then eren proceeds with his usual. he goes to bathroom, he’s gotta piss or so he says. but really he’s just a weirdo, he stares at your hamper. eyes glazed and fixated on the black laced thong that sat at the top of the pile. he moves quickly. he plucks them from the top and balls it up in his hand. then he’s putting up to his nose, inhaling every inch of you relishing in the scent that gets him harder then ever. his back’s to the door and he’s tugging his sweats down. he’s gulping down his whimpers as his fists wraps around his cock. his thumb is shaky as he swipes it over his tip. translucent beads of precum pearl at his tip, and drip down his sides flowing down the shape of each vein as they flow to the base of his cock. for the most part, he keeps himself trimmed, but he’s been so stressed with school it’s gotten a bit messy.

from the other side of your bathroom door you can hear him groaning. there’s a lewd air that permeates through the door as the sound of his palm, wet and sticky against his cock, grows louder. your fingers don’t do enough to stimulate your clit. you feel like such a loser. why can’t you just open the door and tell him every time he comes over your pussy gets all sticky and that playing with yourself doesn’t quell the thought. why’s it so hard to tell him that you want him to take you over and over again. seeing his print through his loser sweats, the brunette strands that travel down them. he’s a curse, a big freaking loser who you need in between your legs. but it only gets worse. you hear him groan your name and your stomach does flips. it’s not only your name, it’s the things he says after. like how he wants to put a baby in you, he wants to knock up the pretty girl who only cares about herself and her grades. he’s moaning about how he’d give you the best dick of your life if you’d give him a chance. you always look like you want to give him a chance too, so is he wrong for assuming.

on the other side of the door, he’s dripping profusely. his knuckles are trembling as he milks himself, his tummy jerks with each pull. he’s thrusting his hips, fucking his hand and losing himself in the smell of you. then he gets the big idea to cum on your panties. his balls twitch from overstimulation, but his slit pulses as more cum trickles out into your panties. he pants weakly, ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’ spew from his mouth. he’s hot, his dick won’t go down, and he made a fucking mess of your panties. you can hear him shuffling on the other side. you hear the turmoil, the disgust with himself for being such a whimp. “um, ‘ren? you okay in there?” you slightly shout as you step away from the door.

“yeah...ha- totally! i-i just made a little bit of a mess so i just have to clean up…a-around the sink…haha.” he’s damn awkward and such a terrible liar.

#eren x black reader smut #eren jaeger x black reader #eren x black reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader smut #eren smut #aot drabbles

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prettygiri222 · 7 months

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Summary: you're a succubus looking for a new victim, unaware you've become one

Any character really x Black Fem Reader SMUT

as a succubus, you loved going for the frat boys. they were always so eager to get a pretty girl like you in bed promising you a good time. but you quickly turned into their worst nightmare, ripping orgasm after orgasm from their already spent cocks.

"o-oh fuck! nomorenomore it hurts!" they would cry out. they would be spazzing out and twitching underneath you, arms struggling to get a good grip on your waist as you continuously rolled your hips against them. the friction against your clit was enough to draw your second orgasm of the night. but not enough to make you lose your mind. their heads would fall back into their flat pillows as you milked yet another orgasm out of them.

“awh” you cooed at them mockingly. “is my baby boy too tired?” they would frantically nod, praying for you to get off them as if they weren’t the ones who begged you to get into their beds in the first place. they had come so much it physically hurt.

the intricately designed heart-shaped tattoo that covered your womb shimmered a dull pink as you absorbed their essence. it was your symbol as a succubus and kept track of your hunger. frat boys never kept you full for long, they were only enough to hold you off for a few days.

eventually, you moved on to the jocks. you had guys ranging from the football team to the basketball team to the soccer team. they had stamina, keeping you full for a few more days but something was still missing.

"you like that, huh?" they asked, slapping your ass. they loved doggy, watching the way your ass jiggled and the lack of intimacy. you could care less, always shoving your face into the pillows to hide your displeasure.

their thrusts would get sloppy after their first orgasm and they often neglected your pleasure chasing their own release. but they did satiate your hunger a bit longer. your symbol glowing brighter.

due to your bias, you failed to notice the lust-filled eyes that watched your every move. he was just a regular guy, or that’s what you thought of him at first glance. he easily blended into the school’s crowds with his oversized sweaters and baggy jeans that didn’t do his sculpted body justice.

but he was infatuated with you the moment he laid eyes on your beautiful form. he loved how you always wore such slutty outfits. your short skirts that were the size of a belt. how he easily caught glimpses of the lacey panties and thongs you wore. the way your tongue piercing made an appearance when you licked your plump lips always coated in a sparkly gloss. and he loved that no matter how thick your shirts were your nipple piercing would always poke through.

but he was obsessed with the tramp stamp you had on full display. it was a deviated heart tattoo with devil wings and black ink that stood out boldly against your brown skin. the design intrigued him and with a quick google search he found out why. apparently, it was a succubus tattoo. you were a succubus. a demon obsessed with sex it drained men for their essence.

he couldn’t lie, the idea of you being such a sinful creature was a fantasy he couldn’t get out of his head. he spent days jerking off to the thought of you appearing in his room just so you could drain him. just the thought of you was enough to have blood pooling to the head of dick, it left him nauseous.

but he could never approach you. not when the faintest whiff of your sweet perfume made him pop boners like he was a sixth grader with a crush on his history teacher. you were like a walking aphrodisiac. he felt the room grow hotter anytime you entered, his pale skin flushing easily. it was honestly a shame how you didn’t notice this bundle of desire.

“oh fuck me” you grumbled in the back of the lecture. you opened your phone to a message from the 6’4 basketball player you were planning on linking later saying he had a late practice. you would’ve urged him to skip practice like you did last week but his coach was getting on his ass about missed practices. he said if he missed anymore he was going to be pulled from the starting lineup.

this was the problem with fucking athletes, you had to work around their schedules. you rolled your eyes at the message leaving it on seen. it’s been a week since you last had sex and you were starving. the only reason you held out this long was because this guy was one of your favourites. he didn’t eat pussy but he always made sure to have you creaming on his dick.

you let out a deep sigh. you were in trouble and you could feel it. despite not currently being aroused you felt yourself dampening the denim material of your skirt. the thick cotton of your turtle neck couldn’t hide your hardened nipples.

as a succubus, you gain energy from sexual intercourse with men. but if you aren’t careful you could kill somebody by draining their energy completely. you feed off of their pleasure so it’s fine to neglect your own but where’s the fun in that?

when you starve you begin to give in to your sinful nature. you become the monster in folklore, the sex-hungry demon that feeds off of any and every man they come across. who fuck them to death, literally. but you didn’t want to become that monster. you enjoyed living among humans so you developed a consistent feeding system to avoid giving in to your monster.

you crossed your legs under your desk hoping to relieve yourself. regardless of being a succubus you had standards, you didn’t just fuck any and everyone. the professor was drawing on and on about an essay at the end of the week but it was the least of your worries.

you briefly looked over the people in the class. there was no one in the class that stood out to you. you had attempted to hook up with a guy that sat next to you at the beginning of the year and it was the worst you’ve ever experienced. the guy was cute but he was a virgin. he didn’t know what to do and tried to insert his dick into your ass with no prep. that was the first and last time you went for someone who didn’t ooze sex appeal.

you were about to return your eyes to the professor when you locked eyes with him. your eyes widened in surprise at the intensity of his gaze. he was sitting a few rows behind you placing him in your blind spot. his eyes were dilated in an emotion you knew all too well, lust.

he was completely out of it, he didn’t even notice that you locked eyes with him. you could feel yourself grow hotter at the attention. he was basically eye-fucking you, undressing you right there in the middle of a lecture. probably having his way with you on top of the desks in front of everyone in his daydream. a smile graced your lips, you had found your victim.

the second the lecture ended you threw your tote bag over your shoulder and made your way over to him, swaying your hips. he was focused on packing up his laptop but you saw him stiffen up the moment you got close. he shot a quick glance in your direction before standing pin-straight.

“excuse me” you softly called out from beside him. he looked around before pointing to himself. “yes you” you let a little giggle at his bashfulness. was he really the guy who had you flustered just a few minutes ago?

“oh uhm, hey” his voice squeaked when you pressed yourself against his arm. a blush rose to his cheek as he avoided direct eye contact with you. his eyes focusing on random students who were making their way out of the lecture.

“could you help me with something?” you asked in that perfected singsong tone yours. looking up at him innocently from beneath your lashes you pressed your soft tits against his chest. his adam apple bobbed as he quickly looked you up and down, eyes briefly stopping when he noticed your visible nipple piercings.

afraid his voice would betray him again he frantically nodded. you had him right where you wanted him. you shot him a dimpled smile before leading him out of the lecture hall and towards your dorm. he sucked in a sharp breath when you walked up the stairs in front of him. every step you top hiked up your already short skirt. you weren’t wearing anything underneath so your bald lips were on display.

you lived in a one-room dorm on campus but you never brought your victims over. you preferred to go over to their dorm but this was a dire situation. you needed to be fed. you hurriedly shoved him onto your bed.

“are you sure about this?” he whispered breathlessly. you had him sitting on the edge of your bed with his jeans pooled around his ankles and you were sitting on your knees in front of him.

"uhm" you mumbled half-heartedly. you were focused on stroking his dick. it was on the thinner side but it was pretty long. there was a vein on the underside that you traced while licking his tip.

“oh fuck” he let out a little whimper when you licked him all the way from the base to the tip before taking all of him into your mouth. he gripped your soft silk sheets in his sweaty palms trying to stop himself from bucking into your mouth. you were grinding against your foot desperate for some stimulation.

the sensation of your tongue piercing on his shaft contrasting against your warm wet tongue almost made him cum. you traced his tip with the ball of your piercing, delighted with the way he shivered. “shit, it’s cold.” he whined.

you bobbed your head looking up at him feeling your wetness pool in between your legs. he was staring at you in awe as you slobbered all over him. your saliva running down his shaft and pooling at his base. your sparkly gloss was smudged all over your cheek.

you alternated between bobbing your head and licking his tip while you massaged his shaft with your hand. letting out an occasional hum when the tip of his dick reached the back of your throat. when you felt his legs tense up you knew he was close.

“you’re like a fucking pro” he stretched out his hands and tangled his fingers in your mini twists. he pulled your hair back into a ponytail so he could get a better lock at you. “i knew your pretty ass was a -fuck- a slut”

you let out a whimper around his dick answering him. your pussy fluttering at his backhanded compliment. while you didn’t have a gag reflex the repeated action of his tip hitting the back of your throat caused you to tear up. your big lips were even plumper as they swole around his dick. he was getting harder just looking at your messed-up state.

he wasn’t ashamed to let out louder moans, letting you know it wouldn’t be long until he came. you stuck your tongue out while stroking his dick, his hot cum landing on it. his face was flushed with pink and his light eyes dilated as he watched you swallow his cum. you opened your mouth to show him proof, your pink tongue empty. “fuck, you’re so hot”

you felt your womb gleam with contentment but it wasn't enough. he was panting hard as you pushed him back on your baby pink sheets. you lifted your shirt off overhead, his eyes widened with the glimpse of your tattoo but you ignored his reaction, most guys just thought it was an obscene tattoo.

you stripped off your short skirt with haste, you wanted more. you hopped on the bed and straddled him. you balanced on your toes while you rubbed his dick between your lips coating it in your slick. you heard him suck in a breath at the sight of your glistening cunt.

"oh shit," you hissed out as you lowered yourself onto his dick. he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by your warmth. you pulled up his shirt revealing his broad chest. he let out a soft moan as you placed your cool hands on his pecs, steadying yourself.

"you're so cute," you cooed. you grinded against him forcing out his little sobs while stimulating your clit. you loved the way he easily blushed, the way his pale skin turned pink.

"you're so good to me" he whined out, grabbing at the fleshy part of your hips. he was rolling his hips against yours desperate for more friction.

"yea?" you asked, wanting to hear more of his whiny voice. you lifted yourself up, removing everything but the tip of his dick before slamming back down.

"yesyesyes" he was bucking up against you frantically, nailing you where you needed it the most. "always saw your pretty ass b-but -ohhh shit- could never talk to you." you angled yourself so he could continuously pound your spongy spots, too caught up to acknowledge his confession. it wasn’t long until he painted your insides white, your pussy clenching in satisfaction.

you were a sight to see right now. he believed the sites when they said succubus had otherworldly beauty. if he thought you were pretty before you were utterly gorgeous right now. your brown skin was glowing in the dim lights and the way you bounced on his was magical. your tits jumped with every thrust, your eyes were glossed over and your pupils seemed to be heart-shaped. something he hadn’t noticed before.

but your tattoo was glowing. that had to be a telltale sign that you were a succubus. besides the mind-numbing pleasure you were putting him through. he was twitching from overstimulation and you were still bouncing on his dick. your pussy making delicious squelching noises as you bounced on him.

“you’re so tight” he whined out. your tight hole was squeezing around him and it was so warm and wet. he was surprised he hadn’t slipped out yet. but you knew what you were doing, the way you skillfully rolled your hips providing pleasure to the both of you. you were quickly drawing him to another orgasm.

you bite your swollen lips as you focus on the growing sensation in your lower abdomen. you could tell he was close when you felt him twitch underneath you. “mhm, you close baby?” you called out to him. he nodded, way too lost in pleasure to find his voice as you drew him to another orgasm with you following close behind. your hips stuttered as a wave of pleasure washed over your whole body.

you rode him through both of your orgasms. a puddle of wetness and cum formed around the base of his shaft as proof. his eyes were closed and he breathed heavily, his chest heaving up and down. he looked a mess, there was drool around his mouth, his straight hair touselled and damp with sweat, his skin flushed a deep shade of pink and a thin layer of sweat shined on his face.

you had to forcefully stop yourself from bouncing on him further. you had to leave him with some energy to get home. you looked down at your tattoo watching as it glowed a dim pink while you absorbed his essence. you would be content for a day or two hopefully enough to give you a chance to hook up with your favorite basketball player. but you were far from satisfied.

you let out a deep sigh as you slowly rose off of him. he let out a whimper at the loss of your heat. you hopped off the bed looking for a towel while he remained lying down.

“you can leave whenever you want,” you said nonchalantly. this is why you hated one-night stands at your dorm, it would get so awkward. you preferred fucking guys at their own dorm so you could disappear while they slept. but you were desperate.

you heard shuffling noises and assumed he was getting ready to go. but it got quiet and you felt a gaze burning against your naked form. you ignored him, continuing to gather items for your shower.

"i'm not done with you" a deep voice called from behind you. your eyes opened in shock as you looked back. he was standing right behind you, towering over you frighteningly. there was a dark look in his eyes as started you down.

“excuse me…” your mouth dried up when you looked down between you two. he was completely naked now and his dick was standing at attention, it was hard and it somehow seemed bigger than before. it was an angry red as pre-cum leak from the tip. you felt yourself grow wetter from his confrontation.

"i've been watching you for a while but you never looked my way. always batting those eyelashes of yours at those stupid frat boys and jocks, huh." he grabbed your jaw forcing you to look up at him. his jaw was clenched tight and he glared down at you. "bet you don't even know my name and we’ve been in the same class for almost a year now." his voice was hoarse as he looked into your eyes.

you meekly nodded. as a succubus who fed off of sexual energy you had to be ashamed for never noticing someone who was soaking in it. his light-coloured eyes were filled with so much emotion that it made your heart swell. a feeling you’ve never experienced with your sexual partners.

“don’t worry though, i’ll take good care of your slutty succubus pussy.” you froze in shock. “make sure you’re well fed.”

Part 2 right here

Characters I had in mind while writing this:

ARMIN, Eren, Zeke, Jean, Geto, Choso, Megumi, anyone you want really

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queenimmadolla · 2 months

Note

Could you write about the first time Penny or any of the babies reach for Eddie 🥺🥺 like the first time they really obviously want him or are excited to see him?

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲. 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐢𝐭! :) 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐢 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞! 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

Eddie was exhausted.

Drained. Worn out. Expended. Zonked. Depleted, just plain tired.

He was young, not even 23 years old, and today in particular, he felt like was in his late 60s. On a normal schedule, he was fine. Could roll with life and work, but his schedule was no longer a normal one. Not since you’d first found out you were pregnant.

A baby, while precious, was an impending expense.

Eddie had started picking up more shifts at the garage, longer ones. Going in early, staying late.

It was relatively amusing work, he was good at fixing cars up. Had started at the shop just changing oil and now he worked on the actual bodies, though he preferred engines more than anything; a common problem for most who brought their cars in, and an annoyance for his co-workers, so he always had plenty to do.

The short time you and Eddie were allotted, pending Penny’s arrival, was spent squirreling money away. You’d have to go on maternity leave, and the desk job as a Lawyer’s receptionist you’d picked up after high school still paid you well on that leave, you’d just still be missing out on a portion of your normal salary since you’d only be getting about 60 to 70% of your check.

Regardless of the tighter than even normal budget (the two of you were also saving up to move to a bigger place, the trailer Wayne graciously let you play house in was still a one bedroom and eventually, Penny would need her own room or the two of you would have to move out to the livingroom), the first few months after Penny’s birth had been relatively smooth. She didn’t use up a whole lot of formula then, mostly breastfed or bottle fed with your supply unless the family was out and about, and there was no place for you to feed her (even then, you preferred going back to the van to nurse her solo—Eddie would get anxiety over that after an episode of a true crime documentary show) so she’d need formula.

Now that you were back at work, standard Monday through Fridays, you couldn’t feed her like you used to, and she relied equally on your milk supply and formula so that was a hit to the budget.

You and Eddie had worried a bit over childcare, whether you’d have to stay home or not to take care of her since daycares were so expensive. Luckily, Wayne’s girlfriend—another occupant of Forest Hills—had taken a liking to Penny. Her son had recently left the nest, gone off to college, and she craved the presence of a child, someone to need her. Uncle Wayne hadn’t been enough (nor had he been amused when Eddie jested as much), and she got on well with Penny, so she’d offered to watch her while the two of you worked like the absolute angel she was.

The Saint refused to take any payment and even thanked the two of you for trusting her with Penny, baffling Eddie since that meant Maude would have to take care of Penny and Wayne, who worked nights and was with her the rest of the time. Wayne, again, hadn’t appreciated the joke.

Childcare aside, Penny was growing. And she was growing fast. Eddie had emotional and monetary whiplash with the speed of which she was outgrowing all of her clothes and going through diapers. And things like baby jumpers and playpens and strollers and car seats were expensive. The regular bills hadn’t stopped either, so while you’d gone back to work and the two of you could stay on top of everything together—Eddie didn't want to just be getting by anymore. It was fine when it had been the two of you, now he had a baby. A little human entirely dependent on him.

And you. She depended on you too, it’s just—maybe it was a machismo thing, Eddie didn’t fuck around with toxic masculinity, couldn’t give a shit, but he desperately wanted to provide for the two of you. Show you that you hadn’t made a mistake dating him, marrying him, having his Oopsie baby. And he didn’t want Penny growing up to worry about finances like he had.

So, naturally, he put a shit ton of pressure on himself. He’d continued working as much as he had when you were on maternity leave—and he’d crashed.

You were there, though. Had talked to him, comforted him, held him through his breakdown. It was one hell of a conversation, and he’d still been stubborn about it despite the fact that he’d made himself sick from burn out, you got through to him. You were a family. Eddie wasn’t to shoulder any responsibility on his own. It was to be shared between the two of you. Your family would be just fine without Eddie working himself into an early grave.

You even did the math on paper (and you were bad at math so it amused him to watch you successfully prove your point after he’d had to help you with some fractions and decimals) to reassure him.

With his worries put to ease, you’d convinced him to take the day off. It wasn’t technically even a day off, he’d just been going in on his days off for overtime, so he was just staying home. He still could have taken Penny over to Maude’s—Eddie didn’t want to. No point when he could have his little ball of curls and rolls (which were starting to go away as she stretched out, breaking his heart) alllllllll to himself, even if she was being fussy.

Maybe Penny was picking up on the vibes he’d been putting out, absorbing his stress because she hadn’t gone down to bed last night without a fight. She’d woken up this morning upset, had been irritated the rest of it, and had given Eddie just as hard of a time putting her down for her afternoon nap, as she had last night.

Yeah. Eddie was fucking wiped out. It was still better than being at work, he certainly got to relax more, even with his furious baby screaming, so he’d never complain.

Then, Penny started screeching from her crib and Eddie let out a groan, hands dragging down his face. Sue him, he could complain a little.

Oh, c’mon! She hadn’t even been asleep for half an hour!

And there was no building up to the screeching, it was like she popped those big eyes open and just decided to start wailing.

With a sigh, Eddie got up from the couch and rushed to the kitchen to prepare a bottle for her. She’d fought it before her nap when he offered it to her, so she had to be hungry now. With the bottle in hand, the perfect Penny-approved temperature (she was picky), he burst into his bedroom, and her sobbing intensified, mouth wide and face almost turning a different color even as he approached her.

Her curls were curlier than normal and almost as wet as her face—she was a sleep sweater so they often matted down to her head when she snoozed. Eddie just knew she was gonna hate the sink bath he’d have to give her later if she was still in this mood by then.

Penny was sitting up—had recently learned to do that on her own—a constant stream of tears dribbling down both cheeks and she stared up at him, her little eyebrows furrowed in anguish.

“Alright, alright. I’ve got what you want, no need to hurt anyone, bitty one.” Eddie leaned down, offering the bottle to quelle her distress. She’d recently learned to hold her own bottles, too.

Penny’s crying died down for just a few seconds, before her breathing picked back up, breaths stuttering and she let out another shriek as fat tears continued to leak out of her eyes at an even faster rate. She smacked the bottle right out of Eddie’s hand, he hadn’t been expecting it so his grip had been loose and craned her head even farther back to stare up at him, pleading, and Eddie had no idea what for.

Was she still tired?

Did she need to be changed? She certainly didn’t smell like it but maybe she had peed.

Eddie reached down into the crib to grab the bottle and her wails died down again before picking up the moment he’d pulled back and walked to his dresser to place it on.

“You’re gonna have to help me out here, baby, what do you want? Huh? What does my girl need?”

Eddie was about to get her out of the crib when Penny did something she hadn’t done before. In between her sobs, with her big, beautiful eyes squinting through her tears, her little arms reached up towards him. The movement made her unstable and she wobbled on her bottom, arms still up, before she fell over onto her side and wailed harder.

Penny didn’t stay down for even a couple of seconds, pushing herself back up into sitting position and reaching up for Eddie again as she bawled and Eddie snapped out of his shock (every milestone she accomplished sent him into one) and reached down, hands grasping her soft sides and hoisting her up his chest.

Penny immediately smothered her face against his neck, Eddie could feel the wetness from her tears and drool smearing around the skin there and he rocked her gently, one hand supporting her bottom, and the other cradling her sweaty little head.

She still cried but as he gently shushed her, Penny’s wailing lowered in volume, “Shhhh, it’s okay, baby. You just wanted daddy, huh? Just need some cuddles to make you feel better?” He pressed kiss after kiss to her head and, much to his relief, the wailing died down completely. Penny’s breathing was evening out, still a little rapid and hitching, but she was calming down.

“Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.” Eddie walked away from the crib, back to the living room, picking up her bottle and her diaper bag on the way, “Daddy’s sorry he’s an idiot and didn’t realize you just wanted him. My little bitty pretty one was crying her eyes out and I have the audacity to try to feed you instead of cuddle you. Ugh. Feel free to bite me when you have teeth, sweet pea.”

By the time he was settling on the couch again, he was sure Penny was on the road to recovery, which made this next part worse. He winced as he slowly pulled her away from him. Penny immediately began to protest, breathing picking up as she started grunting while her arms reached for him and the moment Eddie placed her flat on the changing mat, she started wailing again, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open wide to let the world know her daddy had hurt her feelings, again, “I know, I know, daddy’s also so sorry he has to change your diaper so you don’t get a rash on your little toosh.”

Eddie was quick with it, just as distressed as she was with their lack of contact. Once she had a clean diaper, her extra onesie (and he’d have to remember to put a new one from the dresser into the diaper bag) on, and the soiled diaper was wrapped up and set aside, he hastily picked her up, clutching her to his chest and she curled eagerly into him.

He held her like that until she calmed again, then he got up to toss the dirty diaper and warm up her bottle again.

With her—apparently—number one and urgent need satisfied, Eddie spread himself out on the couch with Penny in the crook of his arm, her chunky cheek pressed against his chest. This time when he offered her the bottle, she eagerly pulled it towards her and guzzled it down.

Eddie admired her while she drank her milk, his finger stroking over her cheeks to rid them of her tears as she stared up at him through long, wet eyelashes. Had he not been present for her fits, nor had he just wiped away the evidence of her suffering, Eddie wouldn’t have known she was upset at all. There was no resentment clouding those warm, brown eyes. No anger and Eddie’s chest tightened as he recalled just how forgiving babies were. So, innocent and just full of love.

“You happy now, pretty one?” Eddie cooed, and at his tone, Penny smiled around the rubber nipple in her mouth, letting out her own coo in response. She didn’t stop suckling, but she removed one hand from her bottle to shakily reach up towards Eddie. Her movement was a little unstable, and Eddie watched with pure reverence until her tiny hand was against his jaw, soft palm gently smacking it.

Then, not so gently smacking it.

“Owwwuhh!” Eddie whined.

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