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halcyone-of-the-sea · 8 months

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Queue me sprinting to the inbox when I got the notice that your inbox was open! First off, congrats on 5k! Ok now business: can I request something along the lines of Ghost realizing he’s become attached his partner (maybe the reader is the same rank or a sniper or something where they’ve known each other a while) but it’s a situation where it’s a harsh realization. Like it was the one time they didn’t go on a mission together and the reader got hurt real bad (like Ghost only found out because he happened to be on the tarmac when the reader’s body was being carried out of a helicopter by medics) and that’s how he realizes he loves the reader. Because it hits him like a ton of bricks that he might loose them and just breaks down but it ends with him being by the reader’s side and confessing in his own way when they wake up

—Blood Like Obsidian

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

He doesn’t recall how he felt the moment he spotted your body being dragged out of that Helo, arm limp over the shoulder of one of the men in your unit. He doesn’t even remember what Soap was talking to him about on the tarmac.

Because at that instance, the entire world seemed to stop in one horrible moment of mute panic and brown, wide eyes.

Simon watched for a moment in shock, seeing your limp form as the soldier carrying you screamed out for a medic, moving as fast as he could in the direction of the on-base hospital; jostling you. Soap finally looks over.

“Holy hell,” the Scot breathes, head pulling back.

Simon’s already sprinting.

“Give her to me,” he growls to the soldier, who looks up at him in shock as he appears like an apparition.

“S-sir, I—”

“Fucking hand her over!” Simon orders, eye flashing, his accent already making the aggressive voice even more so as he spits from behind his mask.

The man immediately presents your unconscious form, blood so saturated into your gear that the black looks like obsidian; shiny like that natural glass formed after lava cools. There’s a damn hole in your chest.

Taking you up easily, your dead weight makes his chest tighten, a sharp inhale sounding off from Simon before he grits his teeth and holds you tighter.

The Lieutenant grunts and takes off, feet slamming into the ground. He glances down at you in rapid intervals, gazing at your expressionless face for long seconds before it snaps back up to the road ahead—it’s no more than a few seconds before Simon slams his shoulder into a door.

The barrier hits the far wall and nurses all look up in momentary fear.

“Help her!” He sounds desperate, and his hands dig into you harshly. If you’d been awake, you’d be telling him to let go before you developed marks. The nurses are still paused at the sudden appearance of the monster-ish man in black and gray. Simon barks like a dog, stepping closer. “Fuckin’ hell, are you bastards bloody deaf?!”

The others dash forward and tell him to place you on one of the rolling beds, and he does so without another word; heart so violently beating in his chest that he’s panting, breath loud in his own head.

The nurses are calling to one another, yelling to grab an available doctor and get you into surgery, beginning to wheel you away. Simon jogs along, eyes not leaving your face but ever silent with his hands clenched.

He hadn’t given much thought to how he felt about you—nothing was ever going to come of it. Years of missions and companionship with you. You, the ever-present bit of light that had stayed longer than all others.

You, the only woman he would ever love.

The realization makes Simon’s legs nearly lock from under him, stumbling for a moment as one nurse peels back your vest and takes a pair of scissors to cut away the fabric over the mess of torn flesh and spitting veins.

You leave droplets of blood behind you, trailing off the limp hand that points to the floor from over the edge of the bed.

Simon grabs at it and brings the hand to your chest, and he notices his own fingers shaking as he desperately moves his eyes up and down your body. He can’t even look at the wound—large, deadly. You jerk around with every movement as if you're already dead.

The Lieutenant feels his eyes burn with stark betrayal but barely pays attention.

As they’re pushing you into a pair of double doors, Simon remembers he was supposed to be with you during this mission, but had been reassigned last minute. The thought is so sudden he nearly forgets to ask where they’re bringing you. But the man recovers quickly.

“Oi!” He shouts, arms pushing him back from the door. Half of the nurses are telling him he needs to leave. He growls and jerks away from them, eyes flashing dangerously but always darting back to the door as it sways back and forth.

But he knows why he’s out here—and the Lieutenant certainly doesn’t know how to operate on someone no matter how much he did.

He steps back and the rest of the nurses disappear back into your room.

Simon puts a hand on the back of his head, gripping tightly at the fabric of his covering as he fears his teeth might break from how hard he’s clenching his jaw—grinding them across one another like a cheese grater.

He loved you. Oh, God, he loved you.

And he wasn’t there.

Turning away from the door, Simon paces the hallways until Soap re-joins him, any attempt the Sergeant makes at conversation is immediately slashed down ruthlessly. Simon’s shoulders widen; eyes grow more dead the longer you’re gone from his sight.

It’s five hours until there’s any word, and when there is, the Lieutenant is alone again—his leg jumping along the floor and his hands held in a single fist under his nose; elbows on knees.

When he’s able to see you—stable but the future still uncertain, he sleeps there.

Simon sleeps on the floor beside your hospital bed for two days straight, and the nurses are too afraid to tell him he can’t do that. So they don’t tell him at all.

On day three, the man has only left the room to go to the bathroom; no food, no showers, or new clothes. He’d gone through worse, what was hunger? What was the small uncomfortableness in his chest? Nothing. It was nothing.

During the day he watches your face, standing or sitting doesn’t matter. The nurses come and go, the doctor too, and he lets them work silently. Simon doesn’t speak to them.

But he does speak to you.

And on day four, he plays with your fingers with a single hand, taking the flesh and watching it move. Feeling your pulse.

The Lieutenant grunts.

“Should’ve been there,” he hisses to himself harshly. “Should ‘ave never let you bloody go alone, yeah? Been by my side for ages.” Simon scoffs, glaring at the bedsheets. “My fuckin’ fault you’re ‘ere. No one can watch your back better, should’ve known that.” He misses the small twitch in your hand, too self-absorbed with his faults.

Simon was never one for airing his grievances; the man was a master at suffering in the quiet nights. But this was a special case.

Your finger twitches again.

“...Shouldn’t say stuff like that,” your words slur, and Simon’s head snaps up; heart lurching. He goes silent.

Your eyes are only half-open, body heavy. You’ll be going back to sleep in mere moments, but you’d been awake long enough to understand what was going on. Simon watches, but his hand slips into yours. Grasping tightly.

An unknown weight is taken from him at the twitch of a smirk on your lips.

“Care about you too, Big Guy.”

He won’t tell you he loves you—he’s not that kind of person. He won’t explain the panic or the fear. Terror, really.

But he’ll slip off his mask and let you see him, his thumb running the length of your knuckles. He’ll sigh and those browns will give way to the rare expressions he shows so few.

He’ll let his head bend down to rest on your thigh as you fall back to sleep. Simon’s hand still holding yours.

You know.

TAGS:

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etheries1015 · 5 months

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Imagining Yuu being Lillias as first and last love.

Let's say he was gravely injured during the war, and you, a human, had snuck him away to tend to his wounds. (I like to imagine this in a scenario where in chapter 7 when they meet Lilia in the 'dream world', he retains those memories, only for it to loop back to the modern day, less than a reincarnation.)

You, knowing Lilia from NRC and being enamored with him for so long, obviously had no choice but to help their fae....friend. When he became gravely injured during a particularly difficult battle, He awakes and is immediately on guard. He never really trusted you and the others who suddenly came face to face with him, two humans, a beastman, and a fae-human hybrid. You were all suspicious to him, yet he couldn't help but feel a ting of familiarity in his heart the second his eyes met yours. He knew, by some force, you were different than the other humans; you were kind, caring, and worked on your lonesome rather than a group.

"Are you okay? Do your wounds hurt? I can change your bandages If you'd like. You have been out for only a few hours..." You pursed your lips, hands hesitating over his injured waist, "But...I understand if you rather me leave now. I just wanted to make sure you would be okay, you really took a hard hit."

He just stared at you with wide eyes and a rapidly beating heart. He came to realize you were truly no threat, and he honestly, owed you his life. He never thought he'd see the day; General Lilia Vanrouge allowing a human tend to his needs, he frankly felt rather pathetic at the notion of this being affecting him as much as they had. Since the moment they arrived at his camp, he knew you were trouble for his heart.

"There 's...no need," Lilia said, sitting up slightly grasping his covered wound with one hand and holding his other out for you to set the spare bandages to him. You nodded slightly and handed it to him, turning around and starting to walk out. Before you had reached the door, Lilia called out to you.

"Human," He said, causing you to turn around in surprise and tilt your head with anticipation of his next words, "Why...why aren't you like the other humans? Are you not betraying them by helping your enemy?" You sighed and shook your head, chuckling at a question that seemed obviously ridiculous to you. Your reaction had caused Lilia to furrow his eyebrows and frown.

"Because I have... a lot of love for everyone," You finally said, looking up with the most serene, sincere, and peaceful gaze he had ever seen, "I love Humans, I love Fae, I love beastmen...and.." You blushed slightly, "I love you, too." The general couldn't wrap his head around it- your comments seemed utterly ridiculous to him- you hadn't known him for long at all, it seemed you two had only met for a couple days at best and here you were already admitting your affections for the fae? Despite this fact, he could tell by your unwavering stance and confident voice, that you were not lying. He simply replied with a nod and dismissed you with a wave of his hand as he had done so with many of his subordinates, muttering a quick thank you before you exited the hut.

Lilia stared down at his hands where the bandages you handed him lay, his cheeks taken a rosy tint. The red-eyed Fae shook his head and wiped his brow beaded with sweat, scoffing in disbelief. Did he just fall for a human...? A human he hadn't even known for long yet felt like he knew a lifetime, at that, over some silly hopeful words? He couldn't deny the way his heartbeat sped up at your kindness, your gentle touch tingling across the skin you cared for, and his ears begging to hear more of your mellifluous voice. Taking a deep sigh, he felt a deep rooted resolve force him to stand upon his feet and chase after you- his heart yearning to learn more about this mysterious human that had somehow shaken him to his core.

However, he never could find you after that.

Queue modern time.

Lilia had well after a while understood he would never be able to find that human- he knew after decades you must have wound up dead. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that you were around, somehow, somewhere, alive and living a happy life- yet he had no proof you were either dead or alive. He didn't particularly look very hard, either. You had given him conflicting emotions that he had never experienced before, yes, but he knew he had a duty to attend to. There were indeed nights where he re-played your words over and over again- eventually bringing him to his resolve of peace between humans and fae and finding solace in the idea of loving all creatures for what they were, just had you did for him when you saved his life with reckless abandon.

So the moment he lay eyes upon you when you stumbled upon NRC, he had the same exact feeling all those years ago rushing back to him all at once, as if he had been hit by a sudden train of emotions. His heart thumped and the sound of blood rushing overtook him overwhelmingly- There was no way, right? The human who saved him must have been long dead by then. It couldn't possibly be...

Then you said your name.

You had the same name, the same unwavering confident eyes, the same serene peace that he felt wash over him in that little hut during the years of war. He wasn't sure how, if this person who suddenly came to NRC was a long distant relative of that person, or if there was something else going on beyond his comprehensive skills. You were alive, your voice as beautiful and mysterious as you were all those years ago. He spent a considerable amount of time studying you, being by your side, trying to put together the puzzle piece by piece. Yet he surprised himself- he never knew, even at his old age, he could feel such vibrant emotions as strongly and just as beautifully as the first time he laid eyes upon you. He felt like that young general again- passionate, young, and this time without animosity and war to get in the way of his curiosity.

Perhaps it was old age getting the better of him making his mind warped into believing he had some sort of magical entity on his side bringing you back to him, or his old heart yearning for something he had never had before and had deeply regretted never experiencing; love. Whatever was going on, Lilia knew one thing for certain;

He would not let his chance slip away this time.

#lilia x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfics #Lilia vanrouge #lilia #lilia vanrouge x reader #general lilia #general lilia x reader #twst lilia #twst lilia x reader

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niallsdaya · 11 months

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Catching up with some of the team niall interviews and wanted to share some cute snippets with you

“He’s like a beaming light,” she said of her coach, whose luminescence temporarily made her forget her stage directions. “There was a light behind his head, and he looked like an angel, and I was like, ‘This is weird,’” she said, laughing. Talia Smith (https://www.thebaltimorebanner.com/opinion/the-voice-auditions-talia-smith-Y6ZHPY6DUNA5TJTW3BRSU4IUAM/)

Kala said he helped her with writers block and that she already sent him some of the music she is working on he is really super involved even beyond the show

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PYwzdk_cF0U minute 8)

and his advice to ryley tate is so wholesome like this is what niall does himself and to make sure ryley is starting his career with that in mind is super important

(https://www.al.com/life/2023/05/heres-the-best-advice-niall-horan-gave-ryley-tate-wilson-on-the-voice.html)

omg thank you for this!!! he is literally BELOVED!!! this is why i love the voice bc he clearly cares so much and is having such a good time.

i’ll have to watch these later and catch up!

#ask #niall horan #love the way queue hurt me

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luveline · 1 year

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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part five | chapter list

summary you’re a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue sleepy kisses, baby kisses, cheesecake and cherry ice pops, and dinner with uncle wayne. [8k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie’s birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a girl dad (<3), tw for mentions of not having much money, new established relationship! idiots in love!! and junie being the sweetest baby ever

𓆩❤︎𓆪

You don't think you've ever seen Eddie asleep before. You rack your brain for a memory, even the suggestion of one, and come up blank. Maybe I dreamt it, you think to yourself, hesitating with your hand held aloft above his peaceful face.

He looks like a dream.

What he'd said last night — before the kiss, and after — echoes. You can feel his hands on your face if you close your eyes, the heat of each gentle palm, the scratch of a silver ring. He's missing his jewellery now, because he takes it off before bed. You can't believe you hadn't known that. All these details. His lashes kissing the delicate skin of his under eye, the way his lips thin in sleep from being pressed together. You reach toward him with a shy hand and brush a bundle of curls from his cheek, exposing the ridge of his cheekbone, begging to be kissed.

You'd been tired, so tired, and then he'd come back, and he'd crashed hard. You understand it. It'd been the most exciting moment of your life, and on top of that, he'd taken care of Junie for most of the day beforehand.

You've slept sparingly. The sun leeches in through the window one small ray at a time. Junie makes a small sound behind you, stirring in her toddler bed. You nibble your lip guiltily, wanting one more minute, just one, to look at Eddie uninterrupted.

You turn around and your reluctance melts, Junie a picture of a good long sleep. Her hair is a mess, her lips still pouting, and her eyes are partly open. She sees you're awake too and smiles, and the guilt of wishing she'd sleep in intensifies. She climbs down from her bed and rushes up to yours.

"Hey, baby," you say softly, holding out your arm.

She grabs the sheets and you help her up, folding her into your chest with a contented sigh.

She's tired, and she lets you move her around with little protest. Which isn't to say she's despondent: her hands latch onto your t-shirt, and her tiny chin rises as she stares you straight in the eye.

"How did you sleep, bubby?" you whisper-coo, hand spread over the breadth of her shoulders, the other crushed under your own weight. "My hand's going numb."

You pull you arm out and hold her face. "That's better. Good sleep? Do you feel happy?"

"Good," she says. "Feel good?"

You huff out a delighted sound and drop your nose to hers. "I feel super good, Junie baby. I'm so happy, because you're happy, and you're so smart."

She smiles more.

"Can you say that, baby? Say, 'I'm so smart."

Junie wiggles against your torso, hands at the neckline of your sleep shirt. "Smart," she says.

"Yeah! Yes. 'I'm so smart.'"

"I'm so 'mart."

"Yay!" you cheer again, your inflection celebratory even though you're still speaking in hushed tones. You don't want to wake Eddie, but maybe you do — is this the kind of thing he's interested in being a part of? "You're so smart. So so smart, and pretty and kind and soft."

You stroke her cheek with the back of your index finger, hoping to tickle her into giggles. "So soft," you murmur, "my lovely soft girl. You know why you're so soft? It's 'cause you're such a good girl, and you let me wipe your cheeks after dinner even though you hate it." You're speaking quietly enough that some of the words sound worn, syllables lost.

Junie doesn't need to hear them to know they're dripping in love. She rests her cheek against your upper arm, chub against chub, and you sink down with her, closing her in for a cuddle.

Your fingertips brush over the nape of her neck.

"Love you," you say, kissing her head absentmindedly.

"Love you," she says back.

She'd been a slow-learner, and she's still behind the majority of her age group, but none of it matters. Hearing her say anything at all is a gift. Hearing her says she loves you?

You laugh. There's nowhere else for all the happy to go.

Your hopes of sleeping again are dashed when she sits up and sees the lump of a body behind you. If she's confused she doesn't show it, hands pressed to your tender side as she climbs over you and onto Eddie's stomach.

He doesn't rouse at first. He sighs, his arm lifting where it's trapped under the sheets, your faded cornflower blue quilt that he'd praised unnecessarily. It's pretty, he'd said, back flat to your mattress as you'd imagined him a hundred times before.

You're pretty, you'd said. He'd opened his arms to draw you in for another hug. They'd felt endless all night.

Junie gets to his chest and her face fills with recognition.

"Eddie," she says happily.

He hums but still doesn't wake. Junie pulls down the blankets, and he raises his arm. Eyes closed, he wraps it around her, pulling her to his chest with a contented sound. She giggles, tiny baby giggles, and starts to play with his hair.

“June,” he mumbles.

“Eddie,” you say, apprehensive, forcing a lightness, “we have company.”

“I can feel that,” he says.

To your — your pleasure, your elation, he turns onto his back and his free hand finds you. His fingers curl around yours and he holds them, thumb pressed to the knuckle of your index finger.

His eyes open slowly, his lashes parting, his face dipped down to take Junie in.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he repeats with a laugh. “Aw, Junie, your hair! I’ve never seen you before mommy gets you dressed. Uncle Wayne would say you look like me when I wake up, when I was a kid he,” —Eddie talks through a yawn, smoothing the baby hairs out of Junie’s eyes— “used to say I looked like Linus from the Peanuts strip.”

“That’s so mean,” you say. You're relieved. You should've known Eddie wouldn't care. He loves her.

"You know who you look like?" he asks her.

She shakes her head. His face lights up.

"Animal! Grown up Animal, not the baby."

Your stomach rumbles. Eddie looks at you with concern, though that concern is a mild, soft thing. He sees you properly for the first time since he woke up, Junie held to his chest, hair as messy as hers, as yours probably is, his t-shirt neckline rolled from wear, and he visibly melts.

"D'you wanna go out for breakfast?" you ask.

He shakes his head. "Come here."

"What?"

"Just come here. Lie down."

You ease off of your elbow and slide toward him. You rest your head very carefully beside his, and are immediately delighted when he kisses your cheek.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, pulling his arm out of hiding to steer the side of your face to his. Your noses smush together, eyes closing on instinct. "Hey, how are you?"

"How are you?" you ask back. He sounds super tired.

"Y'always do that. You can't just answer me? You're–" He kisses you, then, softly but with a sluggish imprecision. "Impossible."

"I'm impossible?"

"You're impossible," he promises.

You try not to squish Junie as you wrap your arm around her and bring a hand to his cheek. The tiniest rebirth of stubble scratches your fingertips as they rove up his cheek to the smoothest plane under his eye. You turn your finger until the nail is flat to his skin, stroking a fascinated back and forth.

"I can't believe you're real."

Can't believe you're real, and you chose me, and you're here now letting my baby pull at the sweat curls tight at your neck.

"Do I look bad?" he asks.

You roll your head back enough to see his smile. It makes your heart skip in the best way, how handsome he is, and you have to dive in again to kiss the line between his lips and his cheek. He's really warm. Before him, you'd forgotten how this could feel, the heat that another person can give you and how protected it leaves you.

"You look really nice," you say, your finger rubbing up and down his cheek. A teardrop to his chin that falls and climb over and over.

"Eddie," Junie says, weaselling under your arm.

"What, baby?" he asks.

She tucks herself up under his chin and lifts her head. It's awkward, but babies are like that. Always wanting to be where they aren't.

"Junie?" he asks.

She looks up, dishevelled hair especially fierce.

"You said my name, remember? Did you have something to ask me?"

She giggles at his tone but doesn't answer. Your stomach makes some more aggressive sounds and Eddie shoots up like bamboo, baby held to his chest and hand behind your head.

"Mom's dying."

"Eddie."

"Mom's super duper hungry," he says, stroking your forehead apologetically. "Now move, mom, so we may enter your kitchen and make super duper breakfast."

"Oh, no, let me change her first," you say. "Poor girl, I slept through the entire night."

He passes her over to you and you stand so he can slide out of bed. His smile grows. "Hair fairy got you both," he says.

You glare. "You are not exempt."

"Can I use the bathroom?"

"Don't ask! Since when do you ask?"

"Do you want to go first?"

His caring is sweet but unnecessary. "No. Please go, and spend like ten minutes in there? I promise we'll be much prettier when you get back."

"You're beautiful now," he says, though he obeys your ask and treks out of the bedroom with a wanton groan and a stretch that shows a lot of back. It's more than likely on purpose.

"I'm with my baby!" you yell, laughing.

"Don't know what you mean."

You strip Junie down to her smalls, change her diaper, and rub a nice lotion all over. She loves the skin to skin and stays still until you offer her today's options, two dresses, one blue and one a lighter green. She chooses the green, so you put green butterfly clips in her hair to match, and white socks with lace in black shoes. She looks awesome.

"Girls?" Eddie shouts. "Can I come out now?"

"I was kidding," you murmur to yourself, laughing.

You comb your fingers through your hair and meet him in the bathroom doorway with Junie's hand held in your own, glancing at each other through the gap.

"I wasn't serious."

"Sweetheart," he says, bending at the waist like he's been punched, "look at you. Juniper the Beautiful, holy sugar."

She only smiles.

"I can take her, yeah? I'll make breakfast. Do you want to get dressed?" he asks you, concern again softening the lines of his face.

"Sorry," you say.

"For what?"

He takes your face into his hand, cupping your cheek. You meld into it like you're one and the same, two pieces of the same puzzle clicked back into place. Junie’s hand in yours makes three.

"Alright, Junie, breakfast," he says, pulling apart and away with a humorous brevity, stealing her little hand from yours.

They walk together down the hallway, hands swinging.

"We'll go get breakfast!" you call. That's why you'd put her shoes on.

"I can make it," Eddie says, voice carrying in the quiet. He shoots a smug look over his shoulder. "I can make it, seriously. Just have a minute for yourself, why don't you?"

You wonder if that's code words for you look like shit right now, but you firmly believe Eddie wouldn't tell you that even if you did. You wash up in the bathroom and then get changed into a new-old skirt that you sometimes wear to work though you're not supposed to and a nice shirt that doesn't go. You take it all off and try again. And again.

You pull on a pair of tight sweatpants and the band t-shirt he'd bought you all those weeks ago. For a moment you stand there, face in your hands, and then a big hand presses to your shoulder blade and scares you into flinching.

"Oh, shit," you say.

Eddie laughs a storm and gets his hand under your armpit. That's worse, and you squirm, but he doesn't budge, pulling you toward him for a tight-boned hug.

"You're taking for ages," he says, parroting one of Junie’s newer phrases.

"Well." You shove your face into the top of his shoulder. "I think I'm nervous. Do I look stupid? Nothing fits me."

He hears your embarrassment and your panic and hoists you backward, hands curled around the tops of your arms as he gets a good look.

"You look pretty, and like you need something to eat." He presses his lips together, a funny picture of nervousness to mirror your own. "I know we should probably talk about it, but I don't really know how to do that. Just. Are you still– You don't regret it?"

It sounds clunky in his mouth.

"I don't regret any of it," you say sincerely.

"Good," he says, recovering quickly from this show of vulnerability with a good heaping of bravado, "'cause I was really hoping to get to do this again."

His hands climb your shoulders, settle neatly in the curves of your neck. He holds your face. You wait for him to kiss you.

"What? I brushed my teeth."

He presses his lips to yours all wonky with laughter. It's fleeting, not nearly as long as you want it to be, but Junie shouts something from the kitchen and draws both of your attention.

"It wasn't about you brushing your teeth," he says, back of his hand rubbing yours as he overtakes.

Junie stands in the kitchen with a spatula, a whisk, and the rolling pin, an array of items from the bottom drawer she's in the middle of relocating.

"Sorry I left her, I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, trying to think of ways to let me down easy. I put the TV on. Not that you can't let me down easy," he says, bending to face Junie.

You shake your head as he starts to help her take things out of the drawer. You don't keep anything sharp in it for this exact reason, Junie's enthusiastic upheaval.

He catches your look. "I'll put them back! Promise."

"It's fine, you know she does it all day anyways."

And really, he should know you won't mind because whenever he's here he helps. Cleans, cooks, soothes her small tantrums and her bigger distresses, like when you won't let her eat laundry powder with the tiny shovel that comes in the box.

He's even started playing the bad guy sometimes. It sounds crazy, but having someone who's willing to say no for you is a sharp relief. To get to be the comforter rather than the nag, and to share a smile over Junie’s distraught head.

"This is positive reinforcement."

"I know both of those words, and yet," Eddie says, closing the now emptied drawer with his foot.

"You helping her take stuff out teaches her that those things should be taken out." You pull open the fridge. "But it doesn't really matter, I'm just saying. Do you want orange or apple juice? June?"

You hold out the carton of apple juice and the gallon of orange. The orange juice is awful, a concentrate with too much sugar, and it's delicious, so Junie picks that one without hesitating. You give her half juice half water in a sippy cup.

"Is mine watered down too?" Eddie asks, accepting the glass you press into his hand.

"I even mixed in some pedialyte. You're welcome."

He nods with more genuineness. "Thank you. Now sit down! I'm making breakfast. I'm gonna make it. What do you want?"

You look at him, fresh but still sleep rumpled, and you think about how hungry you are, and you really like him so much and you get why he wants to do this, but.

"Listen, let's go out. Let's get waffles and syrup and strawberries and nobody will have to do the dishes."

He buckles way too fast. It feels like a big compliment, how quickly you can erode his resistance.

"Alright. Fine, but not because I couldn't have made all of those things."

"Of course not."

"You look crazy pretty when you ask for things, you know? All this time I've been begging you to ask for things and now I'm a little worried. D'you always smile like that? I could be in trouble."

You boo at him and he smiles all the way to the car. He's still smiling as he drops his hand onto your thigh, pulls out of the driveway, and starts down the street leading out of the trailer park. It takes you a minute, but eventually you realise you can touch him back, laying your hand on top of his experimentally.

"Do I look stupid?" he asks.

He's stolen one of your hoodies to hide his slept on shirt. His jeans look messed up from sleeping in, but they're baggy.

"You don't… You could start leaving clothes at my house, you know? If you wanted to– stay again." You swallow a nervous giggle. "I mean."

"Of course I want to stay again. I'd love to. I love being with you."

He squeezes your thigh. If it weren't for his pinking ears, you'd assume him unaffected.

"Okay. Good. You can stay the night whenever you like, handsome, 'cause I love being with you too."

You wonder and worry if your declaration is too close to an I love you he doesn't want. You do love him, have loved him for a while, but you have no clue what you even are. Last night, you'd said best friend. He's more than that, he has to be.

You're in sync, or he can read your mind. He says, "We'll talk about it. After you get some breakfast in you. Your stomach's so loud they just put a weather warning on the radio."

"They did not."

—

Wayne puts a beer down in front of his nephew and doesn't pull any punches.

"If you get that poor girl pregnant, I will disown you. Not her, mind you. Just you."

Eddie thinks this is a very weird thing to say, but he also knows that Wayne is mostly kidding.

"I'm not going to get her pregnant."

Satisfied, Wayne sits down next to Eddie on the couch, the two of them tired from a long day at work, the TV on quietly in the background. It's the same thing they do everyday, or everyday before Eddie met you and your baby.

"I get to meet her, or we just gonna meet at the wedding?"

"Funny," Eddie says. "You can meet her whenever you want to. I kind of didn't think you'd be interested."

Wayne sighs, scrubs his jaw.

"Son, I want to meet her. Her and the baby. I didn't know if it was gonna work, but…" He smiles at Eddie. Eddie thinks that it's a mix of pride and love, and it has a lump forming in his throat near instantly. "I should've known, huh?"

Eddie makes himself scoff.

"Yeah, you should've."

"Only thing you ever half-assed was high school."

"You had to get that one in there."

Quick wit and nipping comments aside, Eddie knows Wayne truly does want to meet you and Junie, and that he should've a long time ago. It had been a cop out to say he didn't think Wayne wanted to meet you, because he knew his uncle had been curious and — he's family. Wayne is Eddie's family, and you and June have become the same.

When he brings it up to you, he does it carefully. With flowers.

You open the door and throw your arms around him, smashing the flowers unapologetically. He chuckles into your neck, pulls you tight to his chest. You smell like the diner.

"How come you never used to do this before?" he asks.

"You never did either."

You take his face into your hands and kiss him, before your usual shyness takes over and you pull away. He's having none of it, grabbing your wrist before you can escape to offer your flowers.

"Here. You'll have to give me one back for Junie, though."

You give him the biggest flower of the bunch, a huge pink carnation with perfect petals and a thick stalk. Your fingertips brush his as you do, and his eyes are drawn to them, your hands, the bump and bone of your knuckles. You still have a scratch from work down the length of your pinky, and they're scrubbed raw as usual from cleaning. He worries you're a little compulsive about cleaning, but he supposes you'd had to have been, all by yourself. He resolves to treat them kindly at the next possible opening.

"Thank you."

You don't blink at his bag from Bradley's. You try not to look at it; Eddie won't accept a thank you and you're trying to let him give you things, as per the arrangement.

As in, you, with Junie in your lap and fresh cream on your cheek, had agreed to be his girlfriend three days ago in the booth of a diner that wasn't Benny's. He hadn't been as brave as he could've been. It felt unreal to him to be with you, to have kissed you more times than he could remember, and to have you smiling back.

"Listen, I know you said we're best friends, and we are, you're my best friend, but I– we're more. I want to be your boyfriend." He rolled the word around so you'd know how strange he though it was. "But if you've… changed your mind–"

You'd reached across the table, pads of your fingers stroking the back of his wrist. "Why would I change my mind?"

"You realise, if we're together, you have to let me take care of you all the time?" he'd asked, full of nervous energy and really, really pleased. Proud to have you.

"I think I can deal with it."

He'd rubbed the toe of his shoe against your ankle and finally told you about the cream on your face.

"Junie?" he says now, eyes searching for your lovely daughter.

"She's in the bedroom."

"What for?"

You squeeze your hand through the crook of his arm, press your cheek to the top of his shoulder, and laugh. "She's making Eddie's bed, apparently. I tried to explain that you won't be sleeping here all the time but I might have made it worse."

Did you make it worse, or had your toddler misunderstood? He hates how even in the small things you'll blame yourself. This feels like a completely blameless situation, and, if anything, it's his fault, he's the one who stayed the night, and then another night, and another. He'd gone home between those days, had even gone to work, and really didn't mean to spend the night each time. It's addictive to get to sleep with you so close by. Getting to kiss you with your arm slung over his chest, your tired eyes staring up at him lovingly — he's a good person but he's weak, too.

He knows it's a little improper to stay this close so soon. If he thought for a second you weren't okay with it he'd be out the door.

"Eddie?" you ask.

"What?"

"You're staring straight through me," you say, sounding both amused and concerned. "What are you thinking about?"

"You, mostly. You and June. You know, Wayne wants to meet you."

You shake the bouquet at him, brows furrowed accusingly. "Is this a bribe?"

"'Course not… Are they working?"

"I don't need flowers. I want to meet him too. It's weird we haven't met before. You keeping us apart?"

"I absolutely am. I was a gross kid, I don't need him to tell you all of that now I actually got you."

Eddie draws away from you reluctantly to put his bag on the table, as well as June's flower. He pulls out the dinner he's brought for tonight and his most important purchase, a vase big enough for your flowers. It's simple clear glass with dainty enamel flowers around the circumference.

"For you, my sweetheart, a vase for the flowers. You want me to cut the stems?"

You beam at him, a shining smile that makes his chest feel fizzy, a can of soda on a rollercoaster as the sound of thumping comes from the bedroom, small footsteps racing to the door.

"Think she heard you," you say. You smile, take the vase, and kiss his cheek in a silent thank you.

Sure enough, Junie appears down the hall and Eddie's barely taken three steps when she's laughing and pawing at his legs, having raced all the way.

"Eddie," she cheers, arms up in the universal sign for 'grab me before I start screaming'.

He's more than happy to get his hands under her arms and pull her to his chest, your mini me breathing hard as she settles. Her hand presses into his collarbone, her lips puckered up for a kiss. He doesn't usually kiss her, doesn't really know where the line is, but denying her feels cruel. He kisses her cheek and feels her lips press to his cheek at the same time.

"Thank you," he coos, "thank you for the kiss, baby, I'm happy to see you too."

"See you," she says, patting his neck.

"How do I look? Handsome?"

She tangles her fingers in his hair.

"So, Uncle Wayne, does he like me?"

Eddie leans against the countertop you're facing so he can see your face. "He's never met you."

"Duh, but does he like me?"

"Probably. He has a bunch of reasons to like you and none not to like you."

"Doesn't hate me for stealing his baby boy?"

Eddie wonders if he's going red. "No, god, he'd thank you for it. Man hasn't had a quiet night in a decade and a half." You laugh softly, fingers weaving through flowers to arrange their leaves and stalks, and he catches a flash of uncertainty as it twists your mouth. "Seriously, he'll like you. I know everybody says it 'bout everyone, but Wayne's a good man."

"I know he's a good man, just…" You frame the flowers with your hands and step back. You smile at him to unsuccessfully hide an insecurity he can spot a mile away. "I'm not the girl people would pick for their son, you know?"

He raises his eyebrows, feels bad and drops them. Eddie lives in a trailer park, and has done for most of his life, it's not like the people around here are prudent about love and partners: Eddie's obviously not the first guy to ever date somebody who already has a kid. He doesn't wanna brush it under the rug, though. Your worrying worries him.

"I think you're exactly who he'd pick." He smiles at you in warning. You asked for this, sweetheart, buckle in. "Gorgeous girl with a perfect body," —you snort— "'n' a heart of gold." He pats between Junie's shoulders where she's oh so quiet in his arms, an affectionate slump over his heart. "And her pretty baby, too. I'd choose you for my kid. You know, if I was old. And I had one."

You wrap Junie up with one hand, the other placed sweetly over his shoulder. Your thumb strokes into his skin. "Thanks, Shakespeare," you say, letting your head dip down until your lips are flat to his shirt.

He drops his head into yours.

"Do you think he should come over for dinner?" you ask quietly.

"What, today?"

"It's gonna make me nervous thinking about it otherwise. What did you bring? Or maybe I can get pizza?"

He encourages your head back, palm to the side of your head. He strokes down until his hand covers your ear and curls around the curve of your neck. Insanely, he thinks it is a privilege to get to see you upset and to get to try and fix it.

"I can ask him, and he's not fussy. You're sure you want to do this today? I could host, you know, or we could go out."

You shake your head, looking grim. Dread clear in your eyes, you say, "I'll obsess over it. Can you call him before I lose my nerve, please? Do you think that would be alright?"

You ask like he genuinely might say no. He hasn't had the power to say no to you for months.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I can call 'im."

You offer to take Junie and it's funny because she doesn't need to be held right now and yet neither of you want to put her down. She's relaxed and Eddie doesn't see why she should have to be anywhere else but in his arms, hiking her up his chest in one arm to use the phone. He slots the receiver between his shoulder and his head and types in Wayne's number without having to look. He's typed it hundreds of times, at friend's houses, at the school nurse when his Mom's didn't work anymore, at the Hideout. Just to say, I'll be home late, but don't worry.

He extends the invitation with a teasing tone. "You wanna come around for dinner? Old lady's asking."

"You can't call her your old lady, son, not yet. That's a privilege you gotta earn."

Eddie laughs down the line. "What's wrong with old lady? I'm keeping it respectful, classy, aren't I? She's making burgers."

"You better be helping her."

"How can I help her? I'm on the phone to you."

"What time am I expected?"

"Let me ask." He pulls June back up where she's slipping, mouth lifted from the phone to grab your attention. "What time are you thinking, sweetheart?"

"It can be done whenever he wants it," you say, elbow deep in ground beef.

"Give us an hour, okay? Don't fill up on shit."

"Yeah, boy, I won't. Better leave me alone to wash up, or I can come in my overalls–"

"Alright, Wayne." He hopes it sounds like 'love you'. "See you in an hour. Don't forget."

"Yeah, 'cause I'm that old," Wayne says, followed by the sound of the phone on the hook.

Eddie passes it to Junie where she'd been dying to have a turn. He can't let her play too long, guilty already watching you chopping and dicing and washing. He sets her up on your couch with her army of teddies and a peach juice box from Bradley's. He'd picked them up thinking they were weird, and that he'd wanted Junie to try them if she hadn't before. She seems pleased with it, back and legs straight across the pillow, head bent in a way that would give a grown up a sore neck for the foreseeable future, socked feet wiggling along to the music playing on her show.

He returns to find you washing your hands. Eddie wants to kiss your neck but doesn't have a clue in the world if he's allowed to do that now or ever, so he folds his arms over yours like a hug.

"Can I get some of that?"

You squirt dish soap into his palm. He's expecting grumbling and complaining at his weird position, but you say nothing, only laugh. You wash his hands for him, thumb rubbing down the small hills of his fingers until he has to wash off the suds, squishing you to the countertop edge with a feigned apology.

You squeal with laughter. "Get off," you plead.

"I'm so tired, suddenly, I don't know what it is."

"Eddie," you moan, well and truly sandwiched under his weight.

He pecks your neck and stands properly in search of a hand towel to dry off your dripping hands. He towels his, passes it to you, and uses his dry hands to cradle your face. He thinks you look beautiful but admittedly very tired, and lowers his voice to an adoring murmur.

"You can go sit down, if you want to."

"Oh, no, there's too much to do," you say, and though you're denying him, your face lists heavily into one of his hands. You close your eyes for a moment before looking up at him through your lashes. "I can do it."

"I know you can do it, I just don't want you to have to."

He pulls you closer, his elbows pushed into your shoulders.

"I'm really good at making burgers. S'like, my signature dish. That's why I got stuff for burgers, 'cause I wanted to cook tonight."

You still don't budge.

"Go on," he murmurs, "go get your cuddles."

Junie, upon realising Eddie would be sleeping in your bed, has taken to climbing on top of him and insisting she get to stay in the big bed. She's hogging him, and it's clear you're not unaffected. Not jealous, not bitter, but missing your baby.

You're in mild withdrawals, and it makes sense. After all, she gets her extreme need for affection from you.

"You're sure?" you ask, frowning softly.

"Yes," he says, laughing and pushing you away gently, "trust me, sweetheart, I can make dinner. You gotta take my flower for June, though." He picks it up off of the counter and twirls it under your chin. "I forgot all about it, you distracted me."

You take the flower but hesitate in front of him.

"Kiss?" you ask, eyebrows popped up.

He bends backward, hand coming up to cover his mouth. "You have it bad, huh?"

"Forget I asked," you faux-threaten, spinning on your heel to leave.

Eddie follows, spins you right back around with a hushed, "Where do you think you're going?" and kisses you, hand sliding up your cheek.

One kiss turns to two, your lips parting slightly under the pressure. He grins and goes in for a third.

—

You don't sit down for long. You steal a Junebug cuddle, in which she insists on sharing her juice box with you and kisses you upwards of twenty times. You giggle giddily, the petals of the flower you've tucked behind her ear almost blinding you with each one. They're drooly and gross and lovely to begin with, less wet when you leave to find something for her to wear.

The dress she wears now is dirty from daycare, and the applesauce, crackers, and peanut butter you'd given her earlier stain the neck. You pick out a simple matching set of not-quite pyjamas. You want Wayne to know you dress her well, but you'd feel bad if she had to suffer any longer in clothes with buttons and zips.

Once she's changed, she's somehow even happier than she was. Now she's settled into daycare and your routine, she's over the moon all the time. She's finally settled in, and you have Eddie to thank for a good chunk of it. He's a great part of her routine, another person who wants to love and dote on her. While you know you'd been doing a great job by yourself, any extra love at all is welcome. You could love him for how he loves her and nothing else, only there's a thousand other things about him to love.

Like his singing. You can hear him humming, then riffing, spatula scratching the frying pan as he rocks out to a song you can't hear. You're playing with Junie's toes, as strange as it sounds, wiggling and tickling the sole of her feet.

"Mommy?" she says breezily.

"What?" you ask, leaning to her eye level, fluffy bed socks in hand.

"Special treats for dinner?"

You can't believe the improvements in her speech, though it's natural, and it would've happened eventually. And it blows your mind because you'd known she was in there, she's a great listener and she's so patient for a toddler, but knowing she's having these thoughts and then having her voicing them now is something else completely. It's amazing.

You tuck the sock under her pant leg and beam at her. "Yeah, baby, we're having special treats after dinner. Eddie's making burgers with the cheese," you hum, offering your open hand for her to hold. "And… his Uncle Wayne is coming by for dinner. So we're gonna meet him and say hi to him and be super nice, okay?"

"Okay. What's for treats?"

"I don't know, you'll have to ask Eddie. Should we go ask him?"

She nods enthusiastically and slides off of the sofa, gand in yours. She walks with a wobbly confidence into the kitchen, where the smell of searing hamburgers and black pepper is cloying.

Eddie turns with the spatula, slouched with one elbow on the counter. He perks up when he sees Junie in her fresh clothes.

"Hey, bub, look at you!"

"She has something to ask you."

Eddie crouches down. "Anything. What do you want to ask me, Junie?"

"What's for," —her voice is small, high-pitched and clumsy but sweet— "... have for…"

"Dessert," you whisper. "For treats."

"What's for treats?" she asks, smiling.

You sigh with pride and Eddie mirrors your expression. "Well," he says, reaching out to readjust the flower peaking in front of her hair, "I brought two things, cherry ice pops and cheesecake."

"Oh," Junie says, "my gosh."

You leave them in their love bubble and change into your nice (bleach stained, agonisingly bleach stained) jeans, rather than meet Wayne in your waitressing skirt and blouse. Eddie wolf whistles as soon as you emerge, Junie now happily perched on his hip as he moves the burgers onto a plate to wait in the oven. Junie turns and drops the slice of cheese she was holding, startled at the noise.

"Is this awful?" you ask, pointing to the thin line of bleach across your thigh.

"'This' is killer," Eddie says.

"No, but can you see the bleach?"

"Not really. If you need new jeans, we can go get some."

The I can't afford it begs to be said, though you know exactly what he'll say in response.

"Not right now," he amends. "They look fine, okay? He won't notice. I had my first tattoo for three weeks before he saw it."

You lean over the sink to open the window and let some clean air in. Eddie goes back to the plate, and Junie drops another slice of cheese.

The knock at the door startles you. You're unprepared, terrified, and you haven't wiped down the dinner table yet. Eddie sees your panic and shakes his head at you.

"It's fine. You want me to answer?"

"We should both answer," you say, with a confidence you are not feeling.

You hold your hands out for Junie. She's a safety blanket.

Please like me, you think, letting Eddie pull you to the door.

—

You have nice shoulders. Eddie feels like he's had this thought before. Often, he looks at you, and he finds something new to catch onto and to obsess about. This hasn't changed in the few days you've been together. It's gotten worse.

He can see the top of Junie's head against your shoulder but not her sleeping face. You sway her from side to side and he can see you arms shaking with the effort it takes to have been holding her for this long, your quiet humming now a whisper of sounds. The gentle thudding of your hand against the bottom of her spine stops, and you turn to look at him, a question in your eyes.

He nods. Looking good.

You ease her down into her toddler bed and spend some time pulling the blankets over her legs, tucking her small army of teddies in beside her.

Finger to your lips, you and Eddie creep out of the bedroom and back into the kitchen. There's nothing to clean. His Uncle Wayne is a stickler who couldn't not help clean up.

Wayne had definitely liked you. You're still glowing with it. It had been a great time, not nearly as awkward as you'd feared, and Eddie's feeling pretty content right now. You waste no time collapsing on the couch. A sippy cup under your hip, cushions in disarray at your head. Eddie grabs the half of the cheesecake that's left and two spoons and sits right next to you, thigh to thigh, no need for friendly space anymore. He forces the spoon into your hand, slides the cheesecake onto your thigh, and moves the sippy cup out of the way.

"My arms are too tired," you mumble, dropping back into the cushions. Junie had piled them all up behind Wayne's head. She was extra, extra nice.

"Want me to feed you? I can baby bird you."

"Ew. That image never gets any less disgusting, Eddie."

It's been Eddie all day. What's a guy gotta do to get a 'handsome'? A 'baby'?

He laughs around a spoonful of cheesecake and twists his foot behind your calf, linking your legs. You've managed to finally get cable, and an episode of Jeopardy plays on mute across the room. There are toys everywhere, the kind of mess that you'll spend three hours putting right, sorting and spritzing and wiping with Junie behind you pulling things back out.

Eddie's already got the clothes here to stay, and Wayne had said, "See you tomorrow," when he left, but Eddie asks anyway.

"Can I stay over?"

You sit up to drop your face heavily into his shoulder.

"Please, handsome. Don't want you to go home."

There's the pet name he'd been searching for. A warmth climbs all over, a twinge in his stomach. He heaps cheesecake onto your spoon and presses the handle into your fingers. You eat it slowly, tip of your tongue making an unexpected appearance when a crumb sticks to your lip.

You make a sound that should probably be illegal and drop the spoon into the cheesecake casing, freeing your arm to wrap it around his chest. You nuzzle your nose into his skin, sniffing.

He laughs from happiness and nothing else, making good work of the cheesecake while you doze. He's not an animal, leaving some for you and June if you want more tomorrow, but he isn't temperate, either. He's thinking this might be the perfect life, you and your baby, Uncle Wayne laughing at your kitchen table, Junie in the high chair beside him trying to make a babbling conversation. She'd managed a couple of proper words and an impressive sentence, much better at answering than asking but trying either way.

"You're a ringer for your mom, kid, you look like twins," he'd said softly.

"Ring-ring," she'd said happily, excited to have understood. She'd offered her hand to him, pinky and thumb stuck out.

Wayne, grinning, had answered the phone.

"June loved Wayne," Eddie says conversationally.

"Junie loves everybody," you say through a yawn, hand soothing up and down his side greedily. "Not like she loves me and you, but she does. She keeps hugging all the other babies at daycare and they don't know how to stop her."

"What? You've never told me that."

"I didn't know 'till this morning." Your fingers find and breach the hem of his shirt, pads tracing to the small of his back.

"God, you're cuddly tonight. Here, let me–" He moves the cheesecake. "Come here."

You groan, "No, this is fine."

"Sit on my lap, loser."

"I'm heavy."

True or not, Eddie wants you in his lap, and he's selfish, pulling at you like a kid not getting his way. You end up flopping over his lap to stop him, curled into an uncomfortable but darling position. He gets his hand behind your ear and turns your face, wanting to see your eyes and your nose and your lips.

Your eyes are bright in the lighting.

"Wayne liked you," he says, stroking down the shell of your ear with his thumb.

"I can see why you're so kind," you say.

You smile at each other.

"I don't know what I did."

Eddie leans down, tilts his head to line up with yours, his eyes flicking between the lightness softening your gaze or the curve of your top lip, calling him in like a siren. "What did you do?" he murmurs.

"To get so lucky," you say. "I don't know. I must have been a saint, in a past life."

"A past life," he repeats.

Your eyes find his and narrow. He knows where you're looking, that little dot of dark hiding beneath his eyelashes. You move over his lap carefully, hands behind his neck to anchor yourself. Your thighs against his thighs, ankles locking him in, your hands always so gentle where they play in his hair.

He thinks there's a kind of melancholy to moments like this. He panics, in his way, in his head, because there are no guarantees. This perfect night with a perfect girl could be it. There are many bad things that could happen, unspeakable, and he gets this trip in his chest like a fuse shorting out.

He should slow down and tell you what he feels. How you're his and he's the lucky one, goddamn, he's never had luck like this in his life.

He smooths his thumb across your lips and stops at the corner, momentarily ashamed of his big, clumsy hand, and permanently in awe of your softness, your goodness, how it lines every feature on your brilliant face.

You lean in for a kiss.

Your lips are parted, and he thinks you might've read his mind, the hunger and the fear he'd felt, the heart-pounding reverence, that split second of wanting to say something he shouldn't yet. It feels like you read his mind; your lips kiss and kiss and your hands tremble minutely behind his head. The heat of your tongue shocks him like the first drag, has his hand bawling in the fabric of your shirt, a low sigh smothered by your attention.

Your nose touches his. In the days since his confession you've endured a frankly overzealous amount of his kissing. He's had you in bed, in the kitchen, just outside the front door. Some heavy handed, some sweeter than sugar, none ever for anything but kisses. Your ardency surprises and excites him — his pulse is a freight train, pounding in his veins as you yield. Your head tips back slow, your gasping breaths a golden sound he endeavours to keep forever.

When you lay back, it's quietly, hand at his front and encouraging you to lay with him. He props himself up on his side, one hand feeling for your upper arm, wishing you'd worn something with shorter sleeves so he could feel your skin. The other covers the column of your throat. He can feel your too-fast breathing in his palm, your shallow gasps.

Your eyes close again as he ducks in. He rubs a line with the tip of his nose next to yours, the heat emanating off of your skin thickening the air. Or, that's what it feels like.

"Kiss me," you say under your breath. This close, you might as well have shouted it.

He kisses you until not one of you can breathe properly, and a little after that, too. His thumb ghosts under the curve of your breast and he can feel the tightness of the question between you, a string pulled taut by your hand and his.

"Sweetheart," he says, trying to pour all of his affection and something deeper into the word, "do you want to…"

"What?" you ask.

He lifts his head off of yours and waits. You open your eyes in confusion, though that confusion quickly turns when you hear what he's hearing.

Movement. Little feet.

He pulls his weight off of you and helps you up, brushing down your hair, your hot cheeks. You move away from his hand without malice, and when he turns he's not at all surprised to see baby Junie in her pyjamas, the ear of a teddy clasped in a small fist.

You press your arm to his.

"Sorry," you whisper.

He turns to you, blinks three times quick. "Baby, it doesn't matter." It's unfortunate, but not as unfortunate as your mortified expression. He holds his hand out to Junie where she's meandering toward you, exhausted steps unsafe but determined.

She reaches his knees, and Eddie helps her up to sit between you both, his arm behind her head.

You stroke her hair. The look you give him is pensive and loving at once. You lift your chin, and he presses a saccharine, chaste kiss against your kiss bitten lips.

Junie falls asleep again near immediately. Eddie finds your hand in the mess of limbs and gives it a good squeeze.

"Bed?" he asks.

You slouch down. "In a minute?"

He slouches down with you, letting his temple drop against yours over Junie's sleeping figure.

"Whatever you want."

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! im so happy they’re together this is my fave part of every fic, aimless adoration <3 im not sure what to write for part sis so I’d love to hear what you want to see there, thanks so much

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson oneshot #stranger things fanfiction #fem!reader #mom!reader #eddie munson x mom!reader

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strangemagicc · 1 month

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Nobody Has To Know | Chapter One

masterlist | next >

pairings: modern!brother’s best friend!Eddie x fem!Reader

summary: a drunken night, a secret kiss. your boyfriend making out with your childhood best friend.

author’s note: surprise, chapter one is here! 🎉queue video of Paul Rudd’s Hot Ones interview (who would’ve thought? not me!)

this was such a welcome distraction from the chaos that currently is my life. I enjoyed writing this so much and just love the idea of sneaking around with Eddie (I mean, who doesn’t?) . I hope you like this first chapter - comments & reblogs are always so appreciated 🖤

w/c: 5.8k

warnings: cheating (technically not reader or Eddie), mentions of underage drinking and drug usage, a brief description of a semi-boner, mention of unwanted groping, lots of angst and hurt in this chapter

As always:

The Cunningham home was packed with bodies, familiar faces, and those you didn’t know. You stood near the front door fiddling with the zipper on your purse as you scanned the room searching for a familiar face.

Party lights bounced off a disco ball that hung haphazardly from a chandelier sending a kaleidoscope of blues and purples dancing across the foyer.

The loud music hummed in the walls, vibrating when the bass dropped. You bobbed your head to it mindlessly, without rhythm, feeling uncomfortable in the swarm of bodies around you. The foyer was crowded with partygoers, some locked in an embrace and others pushing their way up the stairs to the rooms that lined the hallway for some privacy.

Your teeth dug into your lower lip, eyebrows marrying in the middle as you searched above the sea of bodies. You were supposed to meet your best friend, Rachel, outside nearly an hour ago but your shift at Hawk Theater had dragged on and now you didn’t know where to find her or your boyfriend for that matter.

That’s when you spotted them.

It felt like ice had filled your veins as you watched the way the familiar form of your boyfriend’s lips pushed against your best friend’s. Their mouths a frenzied dance, their eyes squished close. Her hands in his hair, his palms tracing down her exposed skin. You couldn’t move, disbelief keeping you anchored in place and watching the two of them as the rest of the world fell silent. Loud music muffled and voices drowned out by the hammering of your heart against your ribcage.

A shoulder bumped yours causing your purse to fall as a partygoer rushed through the door to where their friends were gathered.

“Fuck,” You blinked rapidly and bent down to grab the black leather, eyes darting around at people’s shoes as you tried to regain your surroundings.

When you stood, you watched as Simon whispered in Rachel’s ear. She let out a small laugh in response to whatever he said before nodding. You began to push your way through the crowd but bodies pushed back and you watched as Simon led Rachel up the stairs through a throng of people. Her hand clasped in his, megawatt smile on display and you wondered if this was the first time he had led her to a secluded room. Wondered how many stolen glances or hints you had missed.

You stopped pushing your way through and ignored the shouting in your head telling you to move, move, move.

What would you do?

What would you say?

Did it matter?

Shoulders pushed into yours as you stood still wishing the earth would swallow you whole.

You held in the tears threatening to spill, allowing the hurt to settle into your stomach and create a dull ache.

People shoved past you and you let your body be moved by the crowd as your eyes danced around the house.

For the first time, you noticed the smiling faces and chiseled jaws you’d ignored the past four years.

Squaring your shoulders, you pushed back against the bodies creating a path to the kitchen. Empty bottles and cans littered the counters. White granite stickied with beer and liquor.

You grabbed a plastic cup and waited for your turn at the keg. Jason Carver manned the pump and eyed you as you approached, handing him your empty plastic cup.

“Well, if it isn’t Rick’s little sister,” he started, a fake smile plastered wide on his face. You gave him a sarcastic grin and grabbed for your beer as he topped it off. None too keen on being called, let alone known as, Reefer Rick’s little sister.

Jason pulled away, holding your beer just out of reach.

“Your brother was supposed to have someone here supplying the party favors, what gives?”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes rolled. Hawkins’ Golden Boy was always itching for his next fix.

“I’m sure one of his little lackeys is crawling around here somewhere.” You held your arms up gesturing around you before reaching back up for your drink. He held it away from you again and your shoulders sagged, annoyance building.

“Come on, Carver. Give the lady her drink,” Another boy grabbed the cup, handing it to you with a soft smile.

He was cute in an obvious way, skin glowing with a fading summer tan that highlighted the blue of his eyes.

“Thanks,” you responded with a small grin, your hand grazing his as you grabbed for your drink.

“Any time.” His eyes held yours, his hand still outstretched and warm beneath your touch.

A perfect distraction.

Eddie sank into the worn-down couch cushions with a heavy sigh, his legs spread wide so no one would sit too close. Not that they would dare to anyway.

He sat with a view of the foyer and kitchen, both areas crowded with people in various stages of inebriation.

Unfamiliar faces were cast in a rainbow of colors by the party lights illuminating various parts of the house. His eyes darted from one room to another.

Empty bottles of hard liquor were toppled against the kitchen counter, plastic cups littered the room near the two kegs that sat in the middle of the tiled floor sticky with spilled beer and marred by dirty footprints.

It was a familiar scene, one that played out the same way nearly every weekend since Eddie could remember.

But now his nerves were withering away, disappearing into nothingness as the minutes ticked by. Bored out of his mind.

Another generic pop song blasted through the speakers, another once jock tried to negotiate the price of Eddie’s already cheap supply.

His jaw was set and if he didn’t need the money so fucking bad he wouldn’t be here. At another house party for has-beens and once popular teens inching towards full-blown adulthood. No longer barely legal, a year closer to buying beer without sneaking it past an unsuspecting convenience store clerk.

He chugged his beer, streams of amber liquid pouring out on either side of his mouth as he drank harshly. Sloppily. Until the lukewarm liquid was gone and he was staring down into an empty plastic cup. Eddie threw his head against the cushions debating whether another cup of cheap beer was worth giving up his spot on the couch.

And then you caught his eye. Your back pressed to a guy he’d never seen you with.

His brow quirked up curiously as he watched you. The way the hem of your dress inched up with the movement of your hips, the way your eyes were closed as you swayed to the rhythm of the music and took a swig of whatever filled your plastic cup.

Didn’t you have a boyfriend?

He was surprised to see you here. Somewhere seemingly not your scene surrounded by people he knew you didn’t like.

In truth, Eddie knew very little about you these days. Your interactions had been limited since the two of you worked side by side at the theater. A job he was fired from when the manager caught him making deals on the clock and company property. Since then he only caught glimpses of you when he came by your house to see your brother. A passing hello or a quick goodbye. Never anything like those days spent conversing by the cinema dumpsters while being scorched by the summer sun.

You turned around and whispered something in the guy’s ear and pointed to your cup before weaving through the crowd.

Your back was to Eddie, hands reaching towards bottle after bottle, shaking them to check their contents. All coming up empty.

He chuckled when you spotted the giant cooler filled with Chrissy’s concoction of jungle juice; a mix of pineapple malibu, cherry moonshine, and fruit punch.

Eddie pushed himself off his spot on the couch and moved through the crowd towards you. Approaching just as you filled the cup to the brim and brought it towards your waiting lips. He pulled the red plastic from your hands and gave you a chastising grin.

“Don’t think so, little Lipton,” he took a swig and raised his eyebrows as the sweetness hit his tongue.

You gave him an annoyed glare and reached for your drink just as he pulled it out of your nearing grasp with an amused grin.

“I’m sorry, Munson, since when did you become an advocate against public displays of intoxication?” You reached up and snatched your cup back from his hand, looking at him with a questioning arch of your eyebrow.

He noticed the way your words were somewhat slurred, your cheeks a shade darker from the alcohol you’d already consumed.

“See you got a new boyfriend,” Eddie stated jutting his chin in the direction of your dance partner and ignoring the insinuation of your words. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at you with an amused gleam in his eye as he waited for your explanation.

“That guy?” You turned to the cute brunette who was waiting for you to return before looking back at Eddie.

“I just met him like two seconds ago,” you hiccuped and let out a small laugh as Eddie looked back to the brunette who was eyeing him wearily.

“What happened to Simon?”

“He’s probably still upstairs fucking Rachel,” you waved him off and shrugged before taking another sip of your drink.

“What?” Eddie couldn’t have heard you right. Simon had been your boyfriend since the summer you turned sixteen, having met him while working at Hawk Theater alongside Eddie.

“Look, Munson, is there a point to this line of questioning?”

Your buzzed mind was starting to become less cloudy, the feelings you’d been pushing down threatening to come to the surface, and all you wanted to be was distracted.

“Your brother wouldn’t be too happy if I let you get drunk at some house party,” he sighed, changing the subject.

“Well isn’t it a good thing that he isn’t here and you can just pretend you didn’t see me?” You smiled over your cup before chugging some of the drink.

The sugary sweetness of the fruit punch nearly overpowered the taste of the strong liquor mixed with it but still, it burned as it went down. Eddie shook his head, his tongue jutting into his cheek to fight the wide grin that threatened to spread at your words.

“I wouldn’t chug that if I were you,” he warned and you rolled your eyes, removing the plastic from your lips with a scowl pointed in his direction.

“Since when are you such a party pooper?” You poked at his chest with your free hand.

“Plus I’ve already had a beer or two.” You held up one too many fingers to him as you pressed the cup to your lips and swallowed harshly.

“Come on, (Y/N), this isn’t like you,” he frowned at you.

“How would you know, Eddie?” You said his name like it was a curse word as you looked at him through hooded eyes.

He opened his mouth to respond when a passerby pushed against him to get through the crowd causing his frame to lurch into yours. A small splash of your drink soaked through your sweater and you pushed back against his torso instinctively, his chest hard against the palm of your hand.

“Shit, sorry,” his warm breath fanned your face. A hint of spearmint mixed with the scent of cigarettes caught your nose as you inhaled sharply, caught off guard by the sudden contact of his hand against your hip steadying himself from the sway of the crowd.

You gazed up at him, your hand still on his chest, into his wide brown eyes. His cheeks were colored pink as his hand darted away from you.

“Sorry,” he whispered again and you gave him a sardonic smile, enjoying the way he squirmed by being this close to you. Too close.

“Maybe we should get you home to change,” he pointed to your stained sweater and you shrugged as you placed your drink on the counter.

“Trying to get me alone, Munson?” You teased and maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the way you wished his nervous energy was because you affected him the same way he had always affected you.

You pulled at the hem of the green pullover revealing the tight black lace dress you wore underneath. Eddie’s gaze dropped instinctively, eyeing how the material hugged your curves. You grabbed his wrist and dropped the sweater into his open palm.

“Hold onto that for me,” you picked your cup back up from the counter.

“And don’t worry, Rick doesn’t have to know,” you gave him a small wink before turning away from him and pushing back through the crowd.

Eddie stared at you, his mouth agape as you disappeared back into the sea of people and picked up where you left off with your dance partner. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. The guy whose name you didn’t even know.

Eddie glanced back down at your sweater in his outstretched hand and shook his head unsure of exactly what had gotten into you.

He grabbed another cup of beer and leaned against a wooden beam near the living room, his eyes always finding you when he looked around the room. Eddie made a few deals and sold most of his supply, a few hundred dollars closer to his goal of finally leaving Hawkins behind.

Eddie looked up and watched as stranger boy’s hands drifted down your hips and dug into your thighs. You pushed his hands back up to your waist, your head swaying to the music as the two of you continued to dance.

But stranger boy’s hands crept down your hip once again, inching lower and lower until they glided past the hem of your dress. You stilled and turned around, wrapping your arms around his neck. His chest flush with yours, blue eyes boring into you as he wrapped his arms around your waist. A flirty smile on his lips.

“Able to keep your hands to yourself, pretty boy?” Although you wanted a distraction, you still had reservations. Boundaries you didn’t want to cross. Not when your still boyfriend was upstairs.

“What’s the fun in that,” He whispered into your ear, palms sliding down and cupping your ass. Your smile fell and you pushed at his chest putting space between you.

“Knock it off,” your voice came out louder, barely heard above the music. Eddie tensed and pushed off the wooden beam he’d been leaning on. Your date looked uneasily around the crowd and back at you.

“Don’t be such a tease, you’ve been grinding on my dick for most of the night.” You scoffed at him and shook your head.

Eddie began to walk towards you pushing past the crowd that had turned its attention towards you.

“I was dancing,” you corrected just as Eddie approached. His lean frame towered next to you, eyes set on the guy whose name you now didn’t care to know.

“We got a problem here?” Eddie questioned.

“Should’ve expected your brother’s dealer to be your little lap dog,” the brunette laughed, cocky. Annoyance thrummed through your veins and you began to step toward him but Eddie grabbed your arm, his warm palm pressed against your exposed skin.

“He’s not even worth it,” Eddie whispered and pulled you back, “let’s go.” You nodded at his words and turned to leave with him, emotional exhaustion now weighing heavy on your shoulders.

Eddie followed behind you, ignoring the way the sea of heads watched him like he was some carnival freak on display.

“Stupid slut,” the brunette muttered as he turned towards his friends and Eddie stopped in his tracks, a dark grin coloring his features.

“On second thought.” He turned and took a wide step, swinging without hesitation. His clenched fist connected with the guy’s jaw sending him stumbling back and falling to the ground. Eddie stood over him, chest rising and falling rapidly. Ready for a fight. The guy groaned on the ground, holding his jaw where Eddie’s fist had already left a mark. You stood stunned into silence, the whispers of the crowd breaking you from your reverie.

“Eddie, we should go,” you grabbed onto his hand and pulled as the crowd’s murmurs began to grow louder. A bigger fight could cause the police to be called and Eddie didn’t need a bigger record.

He didn’t budge, gaze still fixed on the guy writhing in pain on the floor.

“Let’s go,” you urged and pulled on his hand hard, this time he followed. You led him through the crowd and out the front door, ignoring the dozens of eyes that watched you leave.

His palm was still pressed to yours when you reached the sidewalk, the night breeze cold against your exposed skin sobering you. You stopped and dropped Eddie’s hand as you looked up to him.

“What the fuck was that?” You pointed towards the house now in the distance with an outstretched hand before crossing your arms over your chest. The moon illuminated Eddie in a hazy white glow, the street lamps dim on the other side of the street.

“Me protecting you?” He questioned, his eyebrows creasing as he took in your sour expression.

“You didn’t need to do that!” Your voice rose.

“That guy had his greasy hands all over you and called you a slut but you’re mad at me?” His tone was filled with incredulity, eyes wide and shocked.

“No, I just-,” you sighed and pressed your fingers against the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes as you tried to put into words how you felt.

Hurt?

Confused?

Angry?

Like a fucking idiot for dancing with some loser at a house party you didn’t even want to be at in the first place.

“Thank you,” you sighed and looked up at him. It was better than an explanation of your misplaced anger.

“I mean it,” you grabbed onto his hand so he knew that you meant it. He looked to your connected hands and back at you.

“Any time, Spielberg,” he gave you a cocky smile and you dropped his hand, watching as he walked past you to his van.

“We agreed you’d never call me that again,” you said through gritted teeth, following behind him. Eddie turned and began to walk backward, keyring twirling on his finger.

“No, you asked me to stop. I never agreed to it.” He stopped in front of his black van and opened the passenger door.

“Your chariot awaits,” he stepped aside so you could climb in, presenting the passenger seat as though it were a grand prize.

“I can walk, Eds,” you chuckled and began to walk past him. You figured the night air would do you good. Eddie yanked you by your shoulder reeling you back towards him.

“Get in the fucking car,” he pushed you towards the seat and waited until you were situated before closing the door. He ran around the front of the vehicle and quickly climbed into the driver’s seat.

As Eddie started the car you noticed his bloody knuckles. Guilt reared its ugly head and you grimaced at the sight of his already bruising flesh. As he waited for the car to warm up, you rummaged through your bag looking for the travel-sized first aid kit you kept buried at the bottom, and quietly rejoiced when you found it.

Without asking you reached for his hand and settled it into your lap. When he tried pulling away you squeezed his wrist to hold him into place.

“What are you doing?” He questioned, glancing between you and his split knuckles.

“What does it look like?” You gave him a teasing look and grabbed an alcohol wipe, tearing open the package before blotting the pad gently against his skin.

Eddie winced and you looked at him with a silent apology before blowing on his knuckles to help them dry.

His gaze traced the curve of your nose down to the plush of your lips, swallowing hard as his eyes lingered. A little hypnotized, just as you’d always had him. You placed a bandaid on each cut and patted his hand softly breaking Eddie from his trance.

“All better,” you stated and glanced up at him with a satisfied grin.

He pulled his hand away and cleared his throat, refocusing his attention on the road ahead as he pulled away from the curb. Eddie eyed his bandaged hand resting on the steering wheel as he drove.

Of course, you’d have Hello Kitty bandaids.

He shook his head but couldn’t fight the way his grin grew wide and took over his features.

The two of you drove towards your house in silence, Soundgarden playing low on the radio.

Houses passed in a dark blur, the clouds covering any light the moon had offered. It had been years since the two of you had been alone for more than a passing moment. Not since those days spent at work where Eddie got to know you as more than his best friend’s little sister.

You fiddled with the hem of your dress, conflicted by to say or if you should say anything. It didn’t go unnoticed by Eddie who began to glance between you and the road, measuring his words just as cautiously.

“Sorry about your-“

“Do you think-“

The both of you began speaking at once and you chuckled awkwardly as you looked towards him. He nodded at you to go ahead, giving you the floor to speak.

“Do you think we could go somewhere? It could be anywhere, I just really don’t want to go home right now,” you shrugged, continuing to play with the material of your dress.

The two of you were already close to your home, the trees becoming more dense as you approached but he nodded. He turned his van down a different path, the trees opening as you approached the Lake.

The light of the moon and stars glittered off the calm waters, peaceful. Serene. A different scene from the events of the night. He parked near the edge of the trees and killed the lights, taking off his seatbelt before looking at you. Nervous energy hummed in his chest and was evident in the way he bounced his leg absently.

“This good?”

You gave him a weak smile and nodded. The guilt had spread and made a home of your chest. Eddie got hurt because of you. Lost out on sales defending you.

��You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you began, your eyes focused on the darkness of the lake.

Eddie watched you, the way your teeth chewed at your bottom lip. Your anxious energy palpable.

“I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in my mess,” you looked at him now and Eddie shook his head.

“Like I was going to let Chris Grandy call you a stupid slut,” he rolled his eyes.

You giggled to yourself. So that was the douchebag’s name.

“It really doesn’t matter,” you shrugged. “Probably was acting like one.”

You’d only ever had one serious boyfriend in your life and he’d spent the night upstairs with your childhood best friend. There was a lot you didn’t know about dating or the rules of flirting. What gave guys the wrong idea or made them think you wanted something more and you kept playing it over in your head wondering what you could’ve done differently.

Eddie’s leg stopped bouncing as he watched you and the anger built up in his chest. He wasn’t mad at you, he was so fucking pissed off that the slime ball made you feel like this. Made you feel guilty for enjoying yourself or question whether you did anything wrong.

“You were having fun,” he started, “and regardless of how you danced or what you said, when you told him to stop he should’ve stopped. Nothing you did or said justifies him being a fucking creep.”

He was seething, you could tell from the way his chest rose and fell. From the way his jaw was clenched, the moonlight illuminating his features.

Munson had always been handsome, cute in a not-so-conventional way. It was the way his curly hair framed his high cheekbones and the plush of his lips. The way his big brown eyes were always animated when he talked about something he liked.

The first time you noticed it, noticed him, was when you were thirteen. You spent that summer blubbering in his presence, finding any excuse to talk to him or go into your brother’s room. The crush never really went away, always lingered in the back of your mind and now in the way your heart thrummed as his gaze was fixed on you. A silent plea begging you to understand what he told you.

It was like a magnetic pull the way you leaned closer to him, eyes trained on his as you inched closer.

“You don’t think there’s anything wrong with me having fun?” You questioned with innocent eyes and looked up at him through your lashes, your face closer to his.

“Why would there be?” He swallowed, his gaze flicking from yours to the pout of your lips.

Eddie was losing the little bit of composure he’d been able to maintain all these years. The warnings your brother had given sounded off like alarms in his head.

“Also, I’m the one who needs to apologize,” he grimaced and began to play with the rings on his fingers, changing the subject. Trying to distract himself from the way the scent of your perfume had him a little disjointed.

“For what?” You pursed your lips, perplexed.

“I’m, uh, pretty sure I left your sweater back there at the party. Nearly one hundred percent positive,” he looked at you with a sideways grimace, already shrinking away as he anticipated your reaction but you only laughed.

“I ruined it with Chrissy’s weird concoction anyway,” you dropped your face into your hand, your body shaking with laughter.

“I still can’t believe you drank that shit,” he laughed with you, “it had me on my ass a few years ago at her Fourth of July party.”

“No way,” your laugh grew louder as you absently held onto his arm, encouraging him to divulge.

“In my defense, those sugary drinks are the ones that get you,” his body shook with his building laughter.

“Could barely taste the moonshine she puts in it so I had a few cups,” he shook his head, “I fell asleep in one of those loungers by the pool and the next thing I remembered was waking up in some random room laughing to myself with the worst sunburn of my life.”

You winced at the picture he painted, imagining his pale skin marred by the sun.

“So that’s why you took my cup,” realization dawned upon you.

“Just trying to save you, little Lipton,” he agreed and you groaned.

“I wish people would stop calling me that. I’m not just Rick’s sister you know?” Your shoulders sagged. It had always been like that.

People, boys, avoiding you because of who your brother was. Ghosting you once they found out your last name, his reputation preceding you. Until Simon.

“I know you’re not,” he assured you earnestly.

“You’re definitely just saying that,” you rolled your eyes.

“Since when have I told you something just because it’s what you want to hear, Spielberg?” He emphasized the nickname you hated to prove his point.

You leaned over the middle console and jabbed at his ribs with your finger causing him to jump and grab at your hand.

“This is the thanks I get for saving your life,” he dramatized and grabbed your other hand as he dodged its attack.

He held onto your hands, your laughter mixing with his, and stared up into his eyes.

You could say it was the alcohol still clouding your mind for what you did next, could say it was because you still needed the distraction you sought at the beginning of the night.

Eddie smelled like apple and bergamot, a hint of weed and tobacco. He swallowed hard as you leaned closer. He felt the warmth of your breath against his face and watched as your eyes fluttered close.

He hesitated for a moment before closing the rest of the space. Heart beating faster than it had that night.

Your breath hitched with the first contact of his lips. They were smooth, almost pillowy against your own, as they matched the pace you set. He released your hands and you twined them in his curls, soft like you’d always imagined.

Eddie’s hands fell into his lap and clenched into fists as the kiss deepened, your tongue parting the seam of his mouth. He opened and slowly met yours with the tip of his own.

You tasted like cherry chapstick and fruit punch, sweet like he always thought you would be and it was getting so hard not to touch you.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, spreading to your veins in a low hum and you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him flush against you. His hands left his lap and wrapped around your waist, fingers digging into your flesh.

He pulled you across the middle console into his lap and you moved without hesitation, your mouth still pressed to his.

There was an unspoken need shared in the way your mouths meshed, in the way he swallowed your sighs and you elicited his groans. It felt like you were floating, head buzzing from a different kind of inebriation.

You wanted more, you needed more but the bright lights of a passing car broke you two apart.

Eddie stilled beneath you and pulled away from your still-pursed lips.

“Shit,” he whispered and closed his eyes as he hit his head against the headrest.

You bit into your lower lip and played with the material of his black t-shirt, looking at him curiously. Confusion evident on your brow.

“What’s wrong?” He shook his head, eyes still closed as his fingers traced absent lines back and forth over your naked thighs.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he shook his head and you stilled.

“We shouldn’t be or you don’t want to be?” You felt as though he was making an excuse, trying to let you down easily instead of telling you that he regretted kissing you.

“Shouldn’t be,” he lifted his head and finally opened his eyes.

He brought his hand to your face and held you, tracing an absent thumb over your cheekbone.

“Who says we shouldn’t be?” You leaned into his touch and rubbed your hands over his chest, enjoying the way his heart thrummed against your palms.

Eddie had trouble concentrating, distracted with you pressed against the evidence of his budding arousal.

Even in the silence you both knew the answer to his question, the boundary that had always been there. Invisible but palpable.

You’d always been warned by your older brother about the bad boys. The ones with the long hair, tattooed arms, and played in a band. Especially the one that is his best friend.

“You know who,” he finally responded, hands gripping your thighs as you shifted in his lap and you smirked. Enjoying the way Eddie Munson looked a little dazed beneath you.

“Nobody has to know if you don’t want them to,” you muttered as you leaned closer, your breath fanning his face. Lips enticing him and he swallowed hard. Resolve wavering under the intensity of his want.

He closed the little space that remained between the two of you, lips not as gentle as before when they pressed against yours. His kisses were hungry. Needier than before.

It felt like he was kissing you like he’d always wanted to, but you didn’t dare hope for that type of reciprocation. Satisfied to have him bucking into your clothed pussy, moans escaping his lips as he held you against him and ground your hips over his boner.

You moaned as he peppered kisses down your jaw and across your neck, nibbling against the sensitive flesh of your throat.

Leaving his marks where everyone could see.

Where Simon could see.

You stilled for a moment but a moment was all Eddie needed to stop, to regain clarity. To push you off his lap with a heavy sigh, a quick rise and fall of his chest. You sank into the passenger and stared at him, your breaths matching his.

“We need to stop,” he shook his head and took a deep breath, running his sweaty palms over his pants. You only nodded, your voice lost as your thoughts collided with each other. Confusion etched into your forehead.

Eddie adjusted his jeans and looked over his shoulder before reversing his car. He needed to get you home before his resolve completely dissipated. Before you did something with him that you might regret like the others.

You fell into silence, eyes trained on the passing trees that were barely visible under the pale moonlight. Embarrassment clung to you, sticky and suffocating. Rejection mingling with the hurt that was beginning to resurface.

The short drive to your house was quiet and you didn’t turn to say thank you as you hopped out of his van.

You clamored through your door, the quiet of your empty house greeting you.

Eddie watched as you slipped into the darkness of your home, and a wave of guilt settled over him as he remembered your brother’s words. As the image of your confused face resurfaced behind his closed eyes. He thumped his head against the steering wheel and groaned loudly.

“Fuck!”

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483 notes · View notes

de4dlyniightshade · 4 months

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just thinking about dom!spencer taking our virginity 😔😔😔 i want him

honestly i'm forever and always gonna be a sub!spencer truther BUT!!! anything to do with a dilf x virgin!reader i will CONSUME THOROUGHLY!

queue the headcanon segment bcs idk how to stfu;)

softdom!spencer!:

he'd be so sweet and gentle through the whole thing, making sure to praise you and reassure you and tell you how beautiful you are:,)

"pretty girl/boy/baby" is a MUST!!! loves the way you blush when he calls you that.

all the praise in the world!!! i can't stress enough how much he'd praise you. "that's it, doing so good, baby" COME ON. SPENCER REID WRITTEN ALL OVER IT YOU CANT TELL ME OTHERWISE.

makes sure that you finish. doesn't matter if it takes all night. he's a strong believer that if both participants don't finish then there's no point even doing it.

would melt at your noises, telling you that you didn't need to hold them back and not to be embarrassed to be loud.

makes sure to go really slow when entering you, he wants to make it as comfortable and pain free as he possibly can so you'll look back on the memory fondly rather than remembering how badly it hurt.

lots of kisses! would give you so many soft little pecks on your shoulder, neck, cheeks, forehead and lips ofc.

aftercare for the next 14 business days, would run you a bath or shower and get in with you, washing your hair and body and just holding you under the warm water. would tell you at least 100 times how well you did and!!! would make your favourite snack and watch your favourite movie while you cuddle.

kinda harddom!spencer!:

would literally go feral trying to not fuck you into next year as soon as he feels you wrap around him.

sloppy making out is a must, he can't get enough of how you become so fucked out that you can hardly even kiss him properly.

dumbification!!! almost loses it when you start babbling incorrectly and would say some shit like "what's the matter? fucked dumb already?" with a shit eating grin.

"good girl/boy" all the fucking way, all the fucking time.

he'd be gentle to begin with as not to hurt you but as soon you tell him he can go faster he runs with it and starts pounding into you, hands gripping your hips to keep you still.

makes sure to fuck you good so you'll come back for more and basically become his personal fuck toy.

literally almost cums on the spot when he sees tears fall from your eyes at how good he's making you feel.

can't help but leave marks on your neck and shoulder while he's fucking you so that others will see them.

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strawberriescherrieskiwi · 4 months

Text

Gumdrops

Anon requests:

Wonka taking you to see snow and sharing a kiss over hot cocoa

@misskitty1912-blog request

Can I request Just saw new Wonka movie I loved it Timothée Chalamet's Willy Wonka x chubby reader female where they almost die by his chocolate rivals and they both confess each other

Wordcount: 2.8K+

Masterlist

Description: When the cartel decided to get rid of Wonka and you. Willy realizes that there is something he has to say if he is about to die to you, the most important person in his life.

A/N: Hello. I had a lot of fun writing this. Wonka is just so freaking cute. I could eat him up. I hope you all enjoy it. This is my first time writing a chubby or plus-size reader. I hope it was what you had in mind.

Warning: Unedited Fluff. Adorablewonka. fun in the snow. Minor spoilers for the ending of Wonka. insecurereader, chubbyreader.

“No no no.” This way. Or or.” Willy looked around frantic for some place for the two of you to hide. He’s never been so terrified in his life. He felt awful for getting you involved with the cartel. He should have come alone. He should have fought you harder on staying away.

“This way, Willy,” you said pulling him down a different hallway pulling him out of his mind spiral.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Less apologizing and more running, Mr. Wonka,” you said, smiling mischievously at him.

Willy chuckled softly smiling back at you. Squeezing your hand. He could feel his heartbeat faster in his chest at your smile. It was his favorite thing in the world next to chocolate.

You two hide in a room pressed against each other. Willy looked down at you sheepishly. He was happy that the room, or closest more likely, was dark and you couldn’t see his cheek aflame.

Trying to look anywhere but at him, you took deep breaths to calm your fluttering heart. You were so tightly pressed together that you knew he had to feel it. Hopefully, he assumed it was fear or adrenaline.

You tried to suck in your gut. You’ve never been so insecure about your size and your face warm for a different reason now. “I’m sorry. I can try to move, give you more room,” you whispered.

Willy looked at you confused. “You aren’t taking up a lot of room. I am. My shoulders are a bit too wide. I’m sorry for crowding you,” he said, trying to move back but only accomplished in tripping and falling into you.

With lightning-fast reflexes, he wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you close and flipped so he to the brunt of the fall. He groaned as he hit the ground and your head banged against his chest.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m a little clumsy,” he said, chuckling slightly.

You chuckled but tried to move to get off of him. “Sorry, I must be crushing you,” you joked.

Willy frowned, tightening his hold. “Of course, you aren’t. My Gum Drop,” he said, cupping your cheek. “Are you alright?” He asked. “You aren’t hurt.” He quickly scanned your body for any marks.

Before you could answer the door opened and the Cartel stood above you both. “Well, what do we have here? Our wanna-be chocolate maker and his little marshmallow.” They laughed while some of their goons grabbed you both.

“Hey hey. Let her go. Your issue is with me not here. I dragged her here, but she is innocent let her go,” Willy begged trying to break free and get to you. The panic in his eyes and frantic movement made your throat close up.

“Mr. Wonka, calm down. I’m okay,” you said as you both were dragged down the hall. You were terrified. You had no idea how far they would go to protect their secrets, but it couldn’t be good.

“Into the chocolate room you go,” They giggled pushing you both into the reserve of chocolate. “You said you lived and breathed chocolate. Let’s test that theory,” the said before closing the door.

Willy glared at them before swimming his way close to you and grabbing your hands. “Are you alright?” He asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine, but what are we going to do?” You asked no longer able to keep a brave face on. And on queue, the chocolate levels began to rise.

“No no. No.” Willy said as he looked around for a way out. A way to save at least you. He turned to you and cupped your face. “Hey. You are going to be okay. I am going to get you out of here,” he promised.

“What about you? You have to get out of here. You need to survive. The world could do without me. I’m a nobody, but you. You need to get out of here. Make sure these men get taken down and share your talents with the world.”

Willy whimpered at your words. The chocolate was up to his waist now. “You might think the world can do without you, but I cannot,” he said more seriously than you had ever heard him before.

You swallowed harshly and looked up into his eyes. “Mr. Wonka…” You trailed off looking away from him. “We have to get out of here,” you said trying to move away from him.

“Sweet tart, please.” He stressed grabbing your hand. Tears filled his eyes. Willy was not the sort of man to give up. He would fight tooth and nail to the end, but things were bleak, and if he died. If you died, he wanted you to know his feelings.

“No, please. You don’t have to say things like that. I didn’t know my feelings were so obvious, but you do not need to make things up to make me feel better. As if we are going to die. We aren’t going to die.”

At least he wasn’t. He was taller than you. He would last longer and while you resigned to dying you didn’t want him to see it. “There has to be a lever or something to get out of here,” you said waning through the chocolate.

“Feelings? You have feelings for me?” He repeated. The danger you both were in left his mind as he stared at you. His singular focus was you. The person he loved most. He would have left town and tried to make his dream somewhere else, but it was you that he couldn’t leave before.

It was you that he wanted to make the world a better place for. That he fought for and the reason he was here in the first place. He liked to think he would fight for justice by himself. That he was moral and good and while it could be true, he was doing it for you.

“Mr. Wonka is that what's really important right now?” You stressed moving closer to the walls, trying to get out. Willy swam after you and grabbed your waist.

“It is very important right now. It might be the only thing important. If we are to die, I want you to know the truth. I love you. And I’m sorry I got you into this mess. You are going to die because of me,” he said, cupping your face.

“Mr. Wonka-

“Please call me Willy,” he interjected.

Nodding you took a shaky breath. “Willy-

“And before you go on and on about all the horrible things people have said to you to think so lowly of yourself, don’t. You are wonderful. Absolutely wonderful and beautiful, kind, and sweet. You are perfect, gumdrop.”

You had tears in your eyes and as they fell, he quickly wiped them again. “You don’t have to return them. My feelings I mean, but you must now.” He smiled sadly before clearing his throat.

He clapped his hands. “Okay now, get on my shoulders. The chocolate is too high up on you,” he said softly but firmly.

“No no. I’m too heavy and you’ll sink more,” you shook your head and moved away from him.

Willy scoffed. “Enough of that onto my shoulders. Right now,” he huffed sassily.

“No,” you said crossing your arms.

“Yes.”

“How about you both grab the rope, climb up and we get out of here.” You and Willy looked up to see Lofty and the rest of your friends. You sighed in relief, wiping the rest of the tears.

You turned to Willy the same time he turned to you. “You first,” you both said at the same time. Lofty groaned shaking his head at the two of you.

No matter how much you showered, you still smelt like chocolate. Normally you wouldn’t mind. You spent all your free time with Willy, but this chocolate didn’t smell as amazing as his did.

You shivered as you walked down the street. Everything was over. The cartel, the chief, and all of the other corrupt people were arrested. The dusked had cleared and yet you didn’t know what to do.

“It looks like it’s going to snow,” A voice came from behind you. You smiled softly, crossing your arms behind your back.

“It does seem like it. I want a snowy Christmas. I’ve never been out and got to enjoy the snow,” you said as you continued walking. Willy caught up with you, his hands behind his back as well.

“I know you told me that when we first met. Your family treated you horribly and then you were trapped by Scrubitt.” He said.

You hummed nodding. “But now I’m free.”

“Yes free. What do you plan to do with yourself now?”

You paused in your step. “I don’t know. What are you going to do, Willy?”

He smiled loving hearing his name coming out of your mouth. “Lofty and I have decided to go into business together. I want to take you somewhere; would you like to come with me?” He asked offering him your hand.

You stared at his outstretched hand before nodding and taking it. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he grinned mischievously. A look that meant trouble but also a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.

“Wow. This place is amazing and whimsical,” you paused to look at him. “Perfect for Willy Wonka,” you grinned.

“I am opening a chocolate factory there. Lofty and I are actually,” he said walking around and looking over the empty castle. “It’s big enough to be a home and a place to work. It’s perfect.”

You nodded looking around as well. “It really is. I am so happy for you.” You would miss him, you thought sadly.

Seeing the slight sadness in your body language, Willy grabbed your arms and started to twirl around the empty hall with you. “I am happy you are happy. But you know what would make me happier?” He mused.

You giggled as you danced around with him. “What would make you happier?”

“If you came to stay with us. Work with me…be with me?” He looked at you hopefully, batting his eyelashes.

You two haven’t had a chance to talk about what he said, and you slightly admission in the reserve room. A part of you thought you two never would and a bigger part of you wanted too so badly.

“If it was not clear. Or you believed it was pity or near-death experience talking. I want to be firm and let you know. That I Willy Wonka of sound body and mind… well as sound as I’ve ever been-” you giggled, and he shot you a wink “-I love you. All of you, my brilliant, lovely gumdrop,” he said.

“You are making my head float,” you said.

“And you make my heart float,” he said, continuing your dance around the hall.

“I love you. I should have told you then, but I was afraid, nervous, and confused. I don’t know. I’ve been torn down too much to believe anything but the negative things about myself.”

“There are no negatives when it comes to you. Not to me,” he said, cupping your face. “Can I kiss you, gumdrop? I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

“Yes please,” you whispered.

Willy closed his eyes and leaned closer to you. Just as his lips brushed yours, you gasped pulling away. Willy frowned hurt until he saw where your eyes were focused outside the window where snow was coming down.

“It’s so beautiful,” you said walking close to the windows. Willy grasped your hand causing you to look down at the joint hands. Then back at him. Quickly, Willy leaned forward and pecked your lips.

You were stunned for a moment, but Willy smiled and started to pull you outside. “Shall we go place in the snow?”

You followed behind him. “It’s barely stuck to the ground, Willy.”

“It will stick. We can play. Be children and then I’ll make us some of my famous hot cocoa?”

“You have a famous hot cocoa?” You asked as you took in the night air and the falling snowflakes.

“Well, I hope it will be one day. For now, it is just for us,” he said, squeezing your hand.

Smiling you turned and kissed his cheek. “I think that sounds lovely. What shall we do first, make a snowman? Or make snow angels?” You said buzzing with excitement.

Willy hummed tapping his chin. “I think we should make snowman first.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a carrot, two buttons, and cocoa beans. “And look I have just the things we need.”

“You tend to have everything just in your pocket, mister magic man,” you said. Turning around you could see the snow has stuck a few inches now. It seemed impossible, but nothing was impossible when it came to Willy.

“I am just always well prepared,” he said. “Now let’s start working on the body. We will need a lot of snow,” he said.

“Then let’s get on it,” you said. You both quickly got to work on building your snowman. “There I better snow over here,” you called out.

“Better snow?” He teased.

“Shush, Mr. Wonka.”

“Ah, so I’m back to Mr. Wonka,” he said turning away from you.

You felt suspicious crawl up your spine, and you quickly turned to make a snowball. “Yes, you are right back to Mr. Wonka,” you teased.

“Well, if that is how you truly feel my sweet Gumdrop.” You turned just in time to get a face full of snow. “Oh goodness. I didn’t mean to hit you in the face,” Willy said as he came over to you and quickly wiped the snow away.

You laughed. “Oh, it is on now.” You smirked causing Willy to back up raising his hands and backing up slowly. “Where are you off to?” You teased before throwing your snowball.

Willy moved but still got hit in the side. You were quickly running off and grabbing more snow to make another ball with Willy doing the same.

You took cover behind a pillar, and he hid behind a tree as you both tossed snowball after snowball at each other. The area was loud with your laughter as you chased each other around and around.

You ran until you both passed out in the snow next to each other. Willy laughed joyously as he turned his hand to look at you. You glowed in the snow. The happiness on your face made him feel as if he was watching an angel.

“Beautiful,” he breathed in awe. You looked over at him to see his green eyes staring deeply into yours.

“Don’t stare at me like that,” you whispered.

Frowning he moved closer, brushing snow out of your hair. “Why not?” He asked cocking his head to the side like a puppy.

“Because it makes me feel all warm,” you said, feeling childish about your words.

He grinned at your words. Quickly move until he is hovering over you. “Well, it is cold out here. I would hate to have a frozen pop instead of a gumdrop. Shall I warm you up more,” he asked sweetly.

Your mouth dried so you just nodded. Slowly he leaned down, giving you plenty of time to reject him but you just wrapped your arms around his neck, tangling in the curls at the base of his neck and kissing him.

His lips were soft, like little clouds and there was a hint of chocolate of course. You couldn’t help but press your lips harder against his and deepen the kiss. Willy whined softly his hands moved to your waist squeezing your hips.

You moaned into his mouth and pulled away in embarrassment. Willy's eyes fluttered open and he stared down at your soft and dreamy. “I like your waist,” he confessed. “I like having you in my hands, squeezing and touching you.”

Your cheek heated and you felt as if the snow around you could melt with the flames burning between the two of you. “Oh. Really you like my waist? I’ve always found it-“

“shush” and he was kissing you one more. His hands dug into your waist and fed you his tongue slowly. You giggled as you tasted more chocolate and Willy grinned against your lips.

“Honestly, I’m quite happy for you two, but in the snow. When we have so much work to do?” Lofty voiced from near you causing you to break apart.

“Sorry Lofty” you said in unison.

“Good heavens,” he said rolling his eyes.

Willy laughed and helped you to your feet, pulling you close under his arms. “Shall we go make that hot chocolate?” He suggested kissing your forehead.

You smiled, placing a hand on the side of his face. “Yes, we should, Willy.” You leaned closer and kissed him sweetly once more.

Taglist.

@wandasforyou

@mel-vaz

@gatoenlaciudad

@iloveneilperry

@s-we-e-t-t-ea

@robertpattins0nswh0re

@valencia-rou

#timothée chalamet #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fanfic #wonka #willy wonka fics #willy wonka x reader #willy wonka imagines #timothee fluff

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