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hr43s · 2 months

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Goverment Hooker

dbf Joel Miller x f!reader ( Joel is a Security Guard )

Summary: Joel miller, your dad’s best friend is a security guard for celebrities. He takes you to one of his jobs as part of a university homework you need to do, but he let his guard down.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI ! No outbreak, Unprotected p in v, mutual masturbation, explicit smut, a lil dominant Joel, secret relationship, orgasm denial, edging, dirty talk, fingering, semi-public sex, very slight bondage ( hand tied up, can easily be freed if wanted),Age gap, DBF Joel because who doesn't like that tbh, reader is in her 20', No body description except outfit and gender, no outbreak, porn w/plot, fluff, kind of slowburn.

w/c: 6k ( i'm actually proud for a second time )

a/n: Second smut !! i'm so proud of this one it's wayyy longer than the first one i did and like 10 times better (crying). Also theres a fanart on the banner but when i found it on pinterest the artist wasnt tagged :((( so please if you know who it is please feel free to comment !! love you whoever is reading this <3

Thank you for reading <3 notes, comments and reblog are heavily appreciated !!

“I need to do this uh…homework” you chew on your food. Good, delicious, and steamy coming right out of the stove. “I have to go to one of you two’s job and make a report” you stab one of the peas in your plate. “I mean I’d gladly take you but you know how boring my job is, huh? And your mom’s abroad” your dad says, rushing to eat his plate.

Your dad works a night job at an Amazon warehouse, something about packing orders, taking a box, putting wrapping paper and the object inside the box, taping it up, taking another box, putting wrapping paper inside, and bla bla bla… Your mom, she’s an airplane pilot going around the world. She’s barely home but she always make sure to send you some well decorated cards with landscapes on them, or to ship some gifts like magnets, you love magnets, your fridge is full of it by now but you still getting excited every time a small box arrives home. But like your dad said, you can’t possibly go with her. “Maybe you should go with Miller, from across the street, remember him ?” Of course you do, even though your dad and him didn’t meet for a long time like they used to. You kind of miss the nights around the barbecue where they would both laugh their ass off together, but now this barbecue is black and grey with dust of burnt charcoal that hasn’t been cleaned in a while. You haven’t talked to Miller since the last time the three of you met for dinner. The only interaction you’d have with him now would only stop at a little wave from across the street and a “hey how you doing?” every once in a while when leaving the house. “I mean why not…” you think. “What’s his job? We haven’t talked in a long time, wasn’t he in a contracting job or something like that ?” Your plate empty, you get up and pick up your plate along with your dad’s and put them into the dishwasher. “ yeah… think he got some problems with his brother, and they were both fired for some reasons. Now I don’t know what he’s doing but he’s wearing black suits every morning when he leaves so maybe it’s a job interesting enough for you to work on it.” He sighs, like a dad sigh, and gets up from his chair, walking out of the room. “food was good honey” he smile. That same night, your dad left for work while you’re in front of Miller’s door. The lights are on inside, it’s dim and gives a comforting vibe to his house which is quite unexpected for a man as rough and difficult as Mr. Joel Miller. You knock on the hard wood of his door, kind of hesitant because why would you go see your neighbor for a homework based on your parents? You shake your head. Whatever, no one is going to know anyways. The door open in a quick swift with a sudden smell of crackling fire and…roasted potatoes and meat? “Hey Miller,” you greet looking into his eyes, brown and sleepy. “I’m sorry to bother you but I had a question quite important.” He smile and nod “whatcha want kiddo’?”. You forgot his seductive accent, a while back it wouldn’t have the same effects that it has on you right now. You’re still a little hesitant to ask, afraid to bother him this late and during dinner. “I have this homework I’m supposed to do on one of my parent’s job. I have to go with them for like a day and make a report, but my parents are too busy, and dad told me to ask you instead” “Well, I’d gladly help you but uh, it’s quite early in’a mornin” “That’s fine, I can get up early.” You smile at him “Well now that you’re here,” he looks back to his kitchen, then back at you. “I got spare dinner here, wanna eat here so we can talk about this a little and maybe if you want…crash here for the night? The job has flexible hours so if I get a call earlier, I need ya to be ready.” This was kind of unexpected, but you’re surprised, a good surprised. “I’m down but I didn’t take any clothes with me. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d agree with this.”

You laugh it off, kind of embarrassed and a bit flustered. “I’ll give you something to sleep in” he smiles.

Spending the night at his house, eating dinner with him. All these emotions, the butterflies in your stomach is all new. You never really thought about it, but hell Mr. Miller is kind of hot. You’ve always dated guys your age. Some were good and some others disappointing, but you never thought of dating someone older and especially not this old or anyone being your dad’s best friend. The forbidden love that is so slowly and so suddenly growing in you. Why now? Why him. You sit down at the end of the table. Joel’s in the kitchen preparing the food. He brings the plates to the table, and he sit at your left, close to you. And you were right, it was potatoes and meat, and it was quite good compared to what you thought Joel was capable of and it’s quite pleasing to be eating this good. After a while talking about your homework, how the day would most likely go and you daydreaming about how hot he is the more you look at him, he offers you to watch a movie before bed. You both sit down and start watching this movie called Curtis and Viper 2, you’d figure it’s his favorite since he can’t stop going “oh look here” or “I love this scene” every once in a while. After what feels like a hour, your eyes are slowly closing and before you realize, your head is on his shoulder. It was slowly falling with time, and by the look on his face he doesn’t seem to be too bothered about you getting so close to him. “Wake up sweetheart” his voice is calm. You lift your head to follow the sound of his voice “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like that,” you say while standing up. “I think I’m gonna take a shower before bed.” You go upstairs and into the bathroom. It’s quite big and smells like colognes and 3 in 1 shampoo. You always feel weird taking a shower at other people’s house, scared someone might walk in so you cough loudly to let the whole house know someone’s in here. You take a big towel for your body, a small one for your face and hair and hang them both on the dryer to make them warm for when you get out. The water is hot and steamy, droplets hits your face like ashes from a fire and you’re hot but not just from the water. Your core keeps burning for him and it gets worst with time. You can’t stop thinking about him, His face, his body, his shirt showing every detail of his biceps, his veins going down his arm and hands, his calloused fingers from playing guitar touching you, feeling your body. Fuck. Too far. You rinse the soap off your body and step out of the shower. The light is dim and making you even more sleepy than you already are. You put on whatever moisturizer Joel has in his bathroom filled with man products, breaking your skincare for one night won’t affect your skin too much. Suddenly the door open. Maybe you should’ve fucking coughed instead of daydreaming like a teen. Joel stops, his mouth slightly open in an “o” shape.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry sweetheart I should’ve knocked first,” he turns his head around as you quickly grab your towel from the floor and wrap it around you. “ ‘forgot to give you clothes before you got in.” He hands you the clothes, his clothes, considering Sarah has left a long time ago. “It’s okay you can look, I’m covered.” You say shyly. He turns back to you and unconsciously look you up and down without saying a word. You take the stash from his hands. “Thank you, I’ll be out in a minute” you smile. You finish changing in his shirt, a too-big dark brown shirt with his name embroidered on the top right part, must be from his old job as a contractor. You figure you’d be better in your panties rather than the pants he gave you considering the weather and how warm it is in this house. You go back into the living room and start searching for a blanket to sleep in. Luckily one big enough to cover your body but not your feet is folded neatly in a drawer under the TV. “Whatcha doin?” Joel goes down the stairs. “Oh I’m just…getting my bed ready” “There’s no way you’re sleeping here,” he says, in a commanding tone “Sarah’s room is my gym now, so you’ll sleep in my bed.” You let out a muffled laugh “yeah like you’ll sleep on a damn couch with your broken back you old grandpa ?” He looks at you with a crooked smile, a little hurt since you called him a grandpa but your personality makes him smile. “Yeah well what do ya suggest smartass ?” You’re hesitant to even try to suggest it but hell if he doesn’t want you on the couch then you need to try other solutions no matter how embarrassing they can be. “Then let’s both sleep in your bed.” You both end up in his bed. It’s awkward, a lot, but at least it’s comfy. Joel is long fallen asleep while you twist and turn every few minutes trying so hard to sleep but something is keeping you awake, something deep down in your core. Joel turns and end up facing you, still sound asleep. You can’t help but look at him and all his features. His crooked nose, his wrinkles softer than when he’s awake. It makes you realize that he’s almost constantly frowning, giving him a mean gaze that could scare people that don’t know him personally. But here, now, he’s so soft and so different. Oh, and he’s shirtless. It’s distracting but you’re in panties, so it feels a bit more casual. His skin is slightly tanned, just the perfect kind of tanned at this time of the year, and it’s a good tan, a brown one not a tomato kind of tanned. Fuck, you need to sleep. You turn around trying not to think about him and finally sleep, when you suddenly feel something against you. Joel moved closer, and he’s now wrapping his arm around your waist. Your breath stops for a second. It’s probably just a reflex from his body but he’s so warm, a good warm even though it’s hot under the sheets but you don’t want to wake him up. The sensation in your core is growing, like an alien trying to come out of your stomach to eat you out. “Fuck you Miller” you whisper. You hear a phone buzz and it’s waking you up. Joel is still holding you but now he’s closer and you can feel something hard on your lower back. It makes you blush but no matter how hard you try, his arm is holding you tight and you can’t escape. “Joel,” you shake his arm slowly. You hear him grumble. “Your phone is ringing”.

“Shit” he finally wakes up and it takes a few seconds for him to realize the position he’s in, and the way his body reacted to yours. “I’m so sorry, I uh… I have no excuse” he jumps out of the bed and takes his phone. He takes the call and leave the room. You check the clock. 5 a.m., you throw yourself back into the bed. “a C might’ve been better than this” you spit. Joel comes back in the room after a few minutes. “Just got a call, some job for us in a city nearby, you should get dressed” he leaves the room once again.

You put on the same clothes as yesterday, a black tank top with black shorts and some converse. You thought maybe dressing all black just like Joel’s uniform would make you look a bit more professional.

“You look stunning” Joel says, entering the room in a full black costume. It’s neatly ironed, not a single wrinkle in sight.

“Looking good too, Miller,” you walk towards him and tighten his tie a bit more.

He smiles “thanks angel”. Dammit, can’t he stop with the pet names, he’s going to make you blush.

“So, where are we going?” you tie your shoe laces in a tight ribbon

“I told ya’, a city a few minutes away from here. We’re taking my truck.”

You already took a trip in Joel’s truck when you were younger, but it was different, your dad was here to do the conversation and make things less embarrassing but now it’s a whole different situation. You still don’t know what to do with your feelings, should you tell him on the road? during the job? you can’t think straight with the small time of sleep you had.

You both hop into his truck; the weather is still quite hot for an early morning.

“How much time till we get there?” you buckle up and look at your phone.

“We got 20 minutes, you can put on some music if you want”

You connect your phone and put on some Arctic Monkeys on. You’re still debating if you should try to make a move on Joel because honestly, you’re starting to miss getting laid, and trying it out with an older guy would be fun.

But the fact that Miller is your dad’s friend makes it weird. Would he get along with it? Or would he just stop you the moment you put your lips on his?

Giving it a try won’t hurt considering you barely see him anyways so avoiding him won’t be too hard. Just no waving and no “Hi Mr. Miller” from across the street.

After like 5 minutes, Joel finally talks.

“Are you seeing anyone? Some guy from your school?” He lowers the volume of your music.

“No, why?” Here. Make a move. “Would you be jealous if I was?” you open the drawer in front of you and search for some candy, every sane people has some sweets in their car. You find a lollipop and unwrap it.

“ ‘twas just a question” he says as you put the lollipop in your mouth and lay your feet on the dashboard. He side eyes you and sigh.

“Well, no, no one’s interesting enough, I guess. Everyone is so focused on school; I haven’t seen a single person kiss another in the corridors or in some empty classes.”

You lick at your lollipop as you make eye contact with him. “Guess I should try older.” You smirk.

You see him adjust in his seat and taking a deep breath. He turns the volume back on to the song.

“How many secrets can you keep ?

‘Cause there’s this tune I found

That makes me think of you

somehow”

This song couldn’t be even more on point than now.

“What about you,” you ask, “You seeing anyone?”

“Not really, not really searchin’ for sum’ serious right now” he leans on the edge of his window, putting his hand into a fist to cover his mouth, he fidgets.

“So like… you just want sex?”

He chokes on his own saliva and coughs “What the fuck are you on about? Jesus “he spits “I mean, maybe, but I’m not actively searching or anythin’”

“You got any age preference?” You take a chance.

“Uh…No, not really” You turn to him, making your belt a bit longer so you can get comfortable.

“Would you fuck me?” You lick on your lollipop; it has become a small pink ball now with all the sucking and licking.

“Jesus girl, you’re my best friend’s daughter” he doesn’t even seem angry or annoyed at the question somehow.

“You didn’t say no though” you smile.

“Doesn’t mean I agree.”

“Okay but, imagine if I wasn’t, would you?” he keeps looking at your lips while you talk.

“You gotta learn how to walk before learning how to run, sweetheart”

“What if I wanna run though?” You say as his grip tightens on the wheel, his knuckles turning white.

You both arrive at a hotel Joel’s company booked before you two arrived. It’s a nice place, a 5 stars hotel. He must stay at the same hotel as the person he has to protect, obviously.

“They booked us…well, me, a single bedroom since it wasn’t really planned for you to come, so we’ll have to share a bed” Joel say

“Again” you smirk. He’s probably already annoyed by you, but he still hasn’t complain, you just assume.

“Come” her orders you, you follow him to the room.

It’s quite big, it has a double bed with dark burgundy sheets and pillows, a big shower along the right side of the room that is basically the size of a whole bathroom, there’s two showerheads and the walls are transparent, so yes, a few meters long shower. What for? No idea.

The toilets are on the other side of the room along with a double sink and a huge light up mirror and fancy soaps you will definitely steal. There’s windows and a balcony in the between with a fancy view on the city.

“We’re gonna have to sleep here tonight if that’s okay with ya’, we might come back home late, and the room is free so we should enjoy instead of going home.”

two nights in a row in the same bed as Joel wasn’t something you’ve planned but you’re not mad about it, to be honest. As long as your assignment is complete…hopefully.

“We got an hour before we have to leave,” he put his bag to the side of the bed. “You can sleep a bit if you want, try to take back the hours of sleep you lost.”

Wait? is he aware that you were awake? Did he grab you on purpose? There’s no way.

“I’m not really tired anymore,” you sit on the bed in front of Joel as he unbuttons his suit jacket. You look up at him and bite your lips. You’re praying inside that he doesn’t reject you, that he follows your movements.

“Well, ion’ know what else you could do besides wait here like a behaved girl” Fuck, was this intentional? If not, it still turned you on.

You have no idea what to do right now, unbuckle his belt, suck him off? Or tease him?

Tease him.

You stand up and start walking towards the huge transparent walls shower, taking off your clothes on the way. Once arrived in the shower, you stand under the showerhead, open the water hose, and turn around searching for Joel.

He’s looking at you with black eyes, devouring you with his hands on his hips.

“Fuck” he spits.

He hurries to unbutton his shirt and take his fancy well ironed pants off along with his boxer.

Oh.My.God.

Your heart has never raced this fast in your life. He’s so big and he’s not even hard yet, you wonder how you never notice it before.

He gets into the shower and stand right in front of you under the shower, the water dripping down his hair and the tip of his nose.

“I don’t know what the fuck ya’ want from me, but you’re tempting me you fucking tease” His word travel down your spine and reaches your core.

His hands slide down your side, reaching your panty line.

“You have an hour to choose if you want to have fun or if you wanna go get a snack and get ready to write your lil’ presentation about me” his face gets closer to yours as your back arches.

“What if I want you to be my snack?” You say, slightly touching the tip of his cock growing bigger the more he looks at you.

He takes your wrists and pin them above your head and hold them up with one of his hands as the other grip one of your breasts. His fingertips are slightly twisting your nipple as he brings his lips to yours, indulging in a dirty, filthy kiss being washed away by the water running down.

Your hand grabs his shaft, stroking it slowly. “You’re so dam’ teasing’, if your father finds out I’m making out with his daughter, I’m a dead man” he growls as your hand twist slightly when reaching the tip of his cock

“We can keep it secret.” You smirk

“You wanna be my dirty little secret, huh?”

You hear a phone ringing on the bed, but Joel turns your head back to him. “Leave it, they’ll call back.”

After a session of teasing and kissing in the too-big shower, the both of you come out of it all wet and steamy. Joel picks up a towel and wrap it around you. He takes another one, smaller, and dries your hair with it. He is so gentle even though you’ve been closed to him for a few hours only, the day before he would only see you as the daughter of your best friend that lives across the street, nothing more.

Joel walks to the bed and pick up his phone, his towel around his hips.

“Fuck!” He screams. “Boss called, the woman I was supposed to work for left earlier, we should’ve been gone by now” He put his clothes back on, muttering shit shit shit while doing so.

A black car with tinted windows comes out of the underground garage of the hotel and stops right in front of you.

“You’re in fucking trouble Miller” The driver guy said. He is big, his black vest almost merging into one with his muscles.

Joel opens the door for you and almost pushes you in.

“We’re ten minutes away from her, you better get yourself ready M” he says, hitting the gas.

You feel something on your thigh, crawling all the way from your knee to the base of your leg, Joel’s warm hands are touching you, slowly going towards your inner thigh.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. He gets closer to your ear while his hand finally touches your clit through your panties.

“You got me in trouble, made me lose my mind just so I could touch you,” He pulls your panties to the side and slide two fingers through your slit, wetting them just before entering your core with thick digits.

You struggle to keep your pleasure to yourself as a few squeals comes out of your mouth. The car is going fast, the sound of the engine covering whatever filthy sounds you make.

His other hand is reaching for the neckline of your top, his finger slightly pulls on it to have a quick peek of your breasts. You keep panting, his finger crooked into you, reaching that soft spongy spot that makes you shiver if it’s played with a little too much.

“ ‘Atta girl” he say, your heart pounding harder, getting closer to your climax and then…

He stops. Fuck

Your walls are clenching around nothing, it’s demanding for more, something bigger. It’s only waiting for him, but how much longer can you hold it?

The car pulls up to a fancy restaurant with a forest green and gold storefront. You see a few paparazzi outside taking pictures from afar, probably of the girl inside.

The driver gets out of the car and pull out his phone, calling to get orders.

“Take them off” Joel says looking at you, then your hips

“What…My panties?” you frown.

“Yeah” He smirk, and he’s so damn hot when he does.

You take your shorts off along with your panties. They’re black with some floral lace at the top, hot but still comfortable and covering.

Joel takes it in his hands and makes a small ball of fabric out of it and put it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Mine” he whispers, kissing you one last time before getting out of the car, holding out his hand for you to follow him.

“We have to secure the perimeter and make sure none of this fuckers get in” the big guy say as you take out your notebook and a pen from your backpack and start taking notes: how things start, Joel’s role, his coworkers, and other thing you couldn’t care less about because right now your mind is focused on Joel and not his work, more like the stuff in his pants.

You follow Joel inside the restaurant as he gives his name to the front desk. He sits you at a table near the outside window.

“Sit here so I can keep an eye on ya’ from outside, take your notes here…look at me and scribble whatever you needa scribble,” he gently caresses your hair as you look up to him “Order anything ya’ want, it’s on me sweetheart” he kisses your forehead and rushes outside, seating at an outside table as a server brings him a cup of coffee. He looks so damn professional for a man who has finger fucking you just a few minutes ago while on your side, you can’t stop thinking about him, your inner thigh still dripping wet.

You order the breakfast menu with some fancy beacon and eggs with toast that cost way too much for little to no change compared to the ones you make at home.

The lady Miller and his big friend are supposed to watch is not far away from you, she’s really pretty, you actually don’t know who she is but considering her style she might be a model, or an actor…or a singer?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, you see a number pulling up with a text.

Unknown Number: Still wet baby ?

You: Joel ??? howd u get my number?????

You save his number into your contacts.

Joel: Your dad just gave it to me, in case

You put your phone back on the table and keep writing stuff on your notebook, adding more details to the things you’ve already summed up earlier.

Your phone buzzes again.

Joel: what you writing ?

You: Shouldn’t u be watching that girl instead of me ?

Joel: yeah but I’d rather focus on you and ur bare pussy

You: omg shut up and do your work so I can have an A+

After a full day of running around town following that lady no matter where she’d go; Louis Vuitton, Prada, a random grocery store for some Redbull. All this while Joel and the big guy were watching her along with a few paparazzi they had to push away. You? You were standing behind Joel the whole time, trying not to be a menace to his job like this morning. All this time of walking around in no panties with only your shorts for cover, you finally go back to your hotel room, exhausted.

“Fuck it I’m so damn tired” You pant after walking up to your room.

Joel comes from behind, throwing your bag away and grabs you from behind, nestling his nose in your neck.

“You too exhausted to get taken care of angel?” you feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin. “Maybe I have a little energy to play a bit” you smile too.

He spins you around and crashes his lips onto yours, taking your breath away in a second. He starts undoing your shorts, freeing your cunt for good. He immediately slides his hand down to feel the wetness between your legs.

“You’re so damn wet, is it all because a’me baby?” he says, close to your ear.

“You made me wait all day long,” you say, “don’t act so surprised.”

“Stop being such a brat, honey, I’m gonna take good care of you, like no one did before.”

And you know he doesn’t lie, just this morning in the shower and in the car, he treated you way better than any man did before, not that Miller is so damn special but the boys you were with were mostly unexperienced or scared, now at least he knows where your clit and your G spot is.

You’d never thought you’d do this with a person way older than you but now that you think about it, it should’ve been on your bucket list for a while.

He starts kissing you, again and again, not letting a single air particle get through your mouth as he pushes you until the back of your knees touches the table behind you. He grabs your waist, lift you up and sits you on it.

He quickly parts your legs to make space for him as you start to unbutton his plain white shirt.

“You’re so damn hot in that costume Mr. Miller,” you say as he growls for an answer “too bad we need to take it off.”

His bulge is growing bigger with time, his tip pushing onto the zipper. You’re still amazed by how big it is, even though it hurts sometimes it can be exciting.

He finally unzips his pants and take his boxer away while you take your shirt off in a hurry. His cock is throbbing, touching in between your legs almost like its attracted to you like a magnet.

The horniness is high today, the both of you couldn’t stop looking at each other. Him scanning your body up and down when you walk, devouring you with his eyes.

“I hope you touch yourself thinkin’ ‘bout me after that” and he’s right, you might. Touching yourself surely isn’t as good as Joel touching you, or even fucking with him which you’re going to find out, but maybe thinking of him would make it better.

Excitement is pooling in your core, and it’s about to overflow. Your body is heating up as Joel rub himself against your folds, spreading your fluids all over his shaft. Your hips can’t stop moving back and forth almost begging for him to finally get in, to fill you, possess you.

“Please, Joel, please just fuck me already” you keep begging for him.

A slight laugh comes out of his mouth as he finally pushes in and fuck, he’s so big, bigger than you thought it would be inside of you but it’s just perfect. He stretches you just right, almost like he belonged to you, and you belonged to him like a key belongs to one single door.

He starts pushing in, slowly, but your body decided otherwise and started pushing in even more.

“Hey honey, relax,” he takes back the inches you took from him “I wanna go slow, don’t wanna hurt my girl” The stretch did hurt a little bit but it’s like your pussy needs more.

His hips are going back and forth slowly but it still makes you moan, his thick shaft stimulating your inside just right.

“Just like that, baby.” He wet his lips. Your hand goes down and rubs your clit, following his pace.

“That’s it girl, keep touching yourself like that,” he rasps. His head falls back as he feels you tighten around him. “I love seeing you touch yourself like that baby”.

His hips start to trust faster and deeper, rubbing on your g-spot making you shiver after a few times with your hand stimulating you.

Your nails keep digging into his back, and it hurts him. You know because he keeps frowning. “Fuck baby your nails are sharp as fuck” Getting long black Stiletto nails was a bad idea.

He crashes his lips onto yours as he suddenly lifts you up in his arms, his cock still in you.

“Imma make you pay for those marks” He says as he look in the mirror behind him giving a full view on the mark you imprinted on him.

He throws you onto the bed, making your walls suddenly clench around nothing. You see him grab his tie he left on the bed earlier and brings it around your wrists.

“Oh -- so your form of punishment is to tie me up, huh?” you smile.

“Uh huh” he nods.

He makes a tight knot; you know for sure it’s going to leave marks on your wrists…that’s his way of making you pay for his.

He throws your arms over your head, one of his hands holding you down. Your unable to move, unable to feel his body with your hands, this is the worst punishment you could think of for your first time knowing you probably won’t see each other for a while once you go back home, unless you hide, all this until maybe this goes further and one day you reveal to your dad that you’re fucking his best friend for a while. Damn it, you shouldn’t be thinking about this, right now you should focus on Miller and enjoy the night while it last.

He keeps fucking you deep and rough, your hand still tied up firmly. He pounds into you, changing his pace from time to time until you’re on the edge of cumming, finally.

“Joel please, I’m so close” your brows furrow, your head is spinning with excitement, and it get worse the closer to your climax you get.

“Cum for me baby, I’ll cum after you do” Looks like he put women first, he’s a gentleman.

After more moans, and more trusting, you finally come, your juices spreading all over him.

“Atta’ girl, good job” he praises you, and fuck he’s doing it well. He finally comes too, emptying out on your belly.

“Fuck Joel, I love you”

You didn’t mean to say that – but maybe you do, kind of. Good thing he doesn’t seem to have noticed as he kisses your forehead, gets up and walk to the opened shower. He comes back holding a small towel that he submerged in warm water. “There, baby” he says while cleaning your tummy.

After a whole night fucking with Joel multiple times and discovering more things about your body, and new positions, you finally go back home. Your essay is done and hopefully going through all this will get you an A+.

You’re on your couch with your dad, talking about how your day went while watching TV, obviously skipping the whole fucking your best friend part, when the broadcast is showing pictures of the woman Joel had to cover yesterday.

“Oh, look that’s her !” You say, excited. “That’s the woman we were with yesterday, didn’t talk to her, she seemed nice even though she’s a celebrity and they’re often viewed as self-centered and unaware but she-“

Your dad pauses the TV and looks at you with wide eyes, cutting you off. You look at the image on the wide flat screen and see you and Joel kissing in 4K HD right in front of your dad, furious. Your heart skips a beat, or multiple.

“You got some explaining to do, young girl.”

<3 Hr43s

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 16 days

Text

may 2024 twst manga updates~

***This includes spoilers for the Episode of Savanaclaw, Episode of Octavinelle, and the 4koma!***

AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH LILIA SILVER AND SEBEK LOOK SO GOOD HERE 🤡 I love how Silver and Sebek are constantly shown flanking Lilia, it really enhances the bodyguard/knight vibes! Every time Lilia appears, he always looks like he's having so much fun. Lil' guy is living it up in every panel! Especially when he appears upside down to spook Ruggie.

efbiuSIUBDBYypvfW9wpWD THIS SHOT IS SO GOOD??????? ?I'M LIVING FOR CATER MAKING SILVER AND SEBEK LOOK LIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE AS HE HANGS ON THEM.............. .... . . . . ....... .. .... .. . . . . .. ..

Ruggie's despair is delicious 🤤 He's thinking about all the events that led up to this point and about how that will now all go to waste. Now that I think about it and I have the visual right in front of me... That's the same thing Leona felt every time he got knocked down for his efforts. The parallels, man...

Well, fellas... Looks like it's probably Overblot Leona time next chapter. A detail I love here is that, from Leona's perspective, all the faces of his dorm members are sorta blotted out... which is interesting seeing as how it was stated that Mrs. Rosehearts' face was intentionally blotted since she is considered the source of Riddle's trauma + the light novel tells us that Leona fears seeing hope and desperation for a better future in others because it might motivate him to try again, thus prompting another failure or rejection... 😭

Palace servants: Young master Leona's magical power is so strong, it's scary!! Leona: Damn, they don't understand me! They judge me before they even get to know me. If I were the older brother, they wouldn't be saying this stuff. Also Leona: [see image above]

MALEWIFE MODE RUGGIE????? 😭 What a contrast to the Ruggie in the Episode of Savanaclaw who is really going through it…

Love the detail of Yuuta and Grim helping out with chores in the background! It shows that they’re trying to pull their weight while they stay over.

Babe, wake up... New Yuuta and Leona reaction images just dropped from the Episode of Octainvelle... (I am Yuuta whenever new TWST content drops and my non-Twstie friends are Leona whenever they're listening to me blab nonstop about the updates--)

Yuuta once again proves to be my favorite of the current Yuu iterations 🫶 He’s just so sweet and hopeful!

We actually get to see the class photo!! Although the resolution here is very grainy. I'm really hoping that we get to see a close-up after Azul's OB!! I'm dying to see what he looked like as a kid!

fbhlavfuoeqy8vevif;fa fai THIS CHAPTER REALLY MADE ME LIKE ACE?????? ??? ? ?? ? It's probably because he gives the same flawless liar (even though the acting is sooo overexaggerated) energy as Jade in book 4. There's a really fun scene where he's distracting the Atlantica Museum guards and really hamming it up. He looks so cute while he's being (fake) upset yet so enthusiastic!!

This was my favorite part!! Ace excitedly talks about how he's always been interested in merfolk since he was little (lie) and how he saved up all his money to come to this museum (also a lie)... THEN BRO HAS THE AUDACITY TO POSE LIKE THIS AND TALK ABOUT WANTING TO BE A PART OF THAT WORLD????? ?? ???? ? ?? ? ?? ARIEL WHO>?????? ?? ??? ?? ? ?I o NLY KNOW TRAPPOLA NOW

One of the 4koma this month is about Octavinelle going on a camping trip! Azul wants to study the stars for money-making ideas/inspiration.

When talking about auroras, they're reminded of the Diasomnia students and think about making an aurora-colored drink to sell to them. The Octatrio also star-gaze and talk about aliens + selling octopus to them. They discuss the idea of filling a space suit with water and fish to they can walk in space too.

The other 4koma is about Trey brushing the mouths of his mandrake (as they have no teeth but dirt). He insists that everyone should have a clean oral cavity.

You can even tell which mandrake is Trey’s because it has a bunch of toothbrushes stuck in its pot 🪥

Jamil was planning on using his own mandrake to make an ancient remedy for relieving toothache. Trey is uh… interested… and attempts to test out the healing toothpaste for himself (Jamil of course stops him).

Trey… you’re the most NORMAL one, why are you like this OTL

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xqueen-of-disasterx · 9 months

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Lonely

Paring: Innocent!reader x dads!friend!Nat

Summery: You looked lonely Natasha could fix that

Warnings: SMUT, pervy Nat, innocent reader, (legal) age gap, masturbation, intersex nat, oral, fingering, p in v, slight degradation, pet names, anal play, manhandling, fluff at the end, implied aftercare,

Word count: 1.8k

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

AN: @xxforeverinadayxx it’s a bit late but I hope you like it

Masterlist

ꕀꕀ ─── ⋆⋅ ✨🌞✨ ⋅⋆─── ꕀꕀ

Natasha knew very well how morally wrong her behavior was but how could she help herself when you were this cute. She was aware of the fact that Steve had an adult daughter but until this burning summer in Italy she had yet to meet you. But time came and Natasha found herself living with the most beautiful girl alive. Natasha had tried to spend as much time as she could with you, trying to find out everything about you. She’d take you on cycling trips and read to you your favorite novel while laying in the grass. You had been enchanted by Natashas presence. She was kind and yet smart. She happened to like the same authors as you and treated you like an adult, and not like your father who always shielded you. You didn’t want to accept it but you quickly had a crush on the older woman. In your eyes she was just perfect.

Who could’ve known that all of that was just a facade Natasha had put on to hide her true perverted fantasies. She had wanted you from the moment you first stepped down the stairs only wearing a light summer dress who looked so beautiful on you. She couldn’t flirt with you like she would with any other girl. No. Natasha had to be smart about it. She couldn’t risk Steve picking up on her true intentions with you. Natasha also of course didn’t want to do anything to you that you didn’t want. She might have been a pervert but she wouldn’t step over that boundary. Natasha knew exactly what she was searching for when she forged through your drawer. Her long fingers delicately caressing over the light pink cotton fabric of your panties. Her breathing was heavy as she quickly stuffs the the piece of fabric into the back pocket of her suit pants.

She’d do it like she did many times before on her summer vacation at your fathers mansion. Natasha would take the piece of clothing to her room and deep in the night when everyone else would be asleep her hands would find their way into her boxers. Moving her hand up and down her shaft as she whimpers your name quietly wishing it would be your smaller hands instead. She would grunt and moan muffled by her pillowcase. She’d cum into your panties cleaning her seed from the deep red tip of her cock. The next day while you would be in the garden she would put it back neatly folded hoping you would notice the difference which was a false hope. You weren’t aware why your “fresh” underwear had crusty but you chose to ignore it.

She quickly fled the room through the connected bathroom as she quickly hides the panty in one of the drawers of her nightstand. She moved on her turning to her bed as she grabs some book and pretended to read as she hears your light knocking on her door. “Come in Bambi” you could her her mumble as you pushed the heavy wooden door open. Her nicknames never failing to make you want to melt. Your feet make their way across the floor before you take a seat on the side of Natashas bed. “What brings you here” her voice was husky coming out almost as a whisper. You had your eyes located on your lap as you could hear Natasha move behind you. “I felt lonely” You could hear her chuckle in response as she moves beside you. “Is Steve home” You shook your head “He said that he won’t be home till late at night today”

Natashas smirk was devilish as she knew now was the time she could finally shoot her shoot. “And he left you all alone with me?” You didn’t answer her. The question was more rhetorical than anything. “Tell me pretty girl” her hands moved to your chin making you meet her lustful gaze “Do you feel something 'down there' when I touch you” Your cheeks turned a light shade of red. You were too embarrassed to say it but she was right. You slowly nod and making Natasha the happiest woman alive. “What do you do then” “W-Well I-” Natasha cut you off “No Олененок I want you to show me. Show me what you do to make those feelings go away” Your movements were shaky as you laid your fragile body on her kingsized bed. Your hands had found their way towards the waistband of your shorts as you slowly dragged them down your feminine legs. You had revealed your undergarments, a white pair with flowers on them. Natasha smirked as she saw the pair. She was familiar with it once having right her under her hips as she wished she had you instead. However her time had come, she had finally had you all to herself. You disposed of your panty too as you left your dripping cunt on full display for Natasha who was sitting between your spread ankles. Her breathing got more rapid as she could feel herself het harder and harder. Your hands had found their way towards your clit rubbing the bundle of nerves in tight circles as you kept releasing moan after. Natasha looked at you with a pitiful expression it was clear that you didn’t really knew what you were doing. The older woman highly doubt that you’ve ever managed to made yourself cum judging by your inexperienced movements.

“Let me help you pretty girl” Natasha was fast to strip from her shirt throwing it somewhere behind herself as she moved between your legs. Your legs were thrown over her shoulder as she took a long lick from the bottom of your cunt right up to your clit. Your hands carefully grabbed Natashas hair not wanting to hurt her. Natasha kitten licking between your folds, the taste making her hum deeply. The vibrations making you release soft moans. You tried to buckle your hips making the release seem closer. Natasha responded in slamming her forearm down on your hips grounding your hips. You whimpered and Natasha just laughed “Have you ever tried to you know use your little fingers Зайка” she mumbled against your puffy cunt. Forming words seemed incredibly difficult even through Natasha hadn’t really done anything “N-Never” you managed to get out. Natasha gave you a fake look of pity between your legs “Let’s pop that cherry shall we?” It was again a rhetorical question, how could you ever say no to Natasha. “Will it hurt” I whimpered looking at Natasha through hooded eyes. “Зайка, I’m not gonna lie it will hurt a bit but you will feel so good” She rubbed my thighs trying comfort me into believing her and I did.

“Do it… but be gentle… please” the last part came out mote desperate than you had intended to. “I’ll try Зайка” she whispered against the soft flesh of My stomach kissing her way down again. She carefully inserted one of her long fingers making me groan in pain as she ripped my hymen even drawing a few drops of blood on the white sheets. Natasha groaned as she saw and felt it. She knew it was wrong being obsessed with taking her friends daughters virginity but she couldn’t help herself. “Fuck baby you’re so tight” he breathed out as she can feel your walls clenching around her finger as she pushed it in and out. The pain of her fingers soon turned into pure pleasure as you moaned like a whore in a brothel. She added a second finger on which you clench down even harder sucking her in. “Fuck you’re even tighter then you thought you little slut.” Her movements got faster and rougher having me moan louder as you climax all over Natashas fingers and hand. You eyes are glued shut as you try to calm yourself.

You can feel Natashas strong hands on your hips turning you onto your stomach. Your face is pressed into the pillows as she pushes your hips up your knees touching the soft fabric of the sheets. You can hear the sipper of her pants followed by the sounds of her undressing. Natasha was painfully hard, her large member standing proud as she places herself behind you. Her tip pressed against your clit as you whimpered for her. “Are you ready for the real deal Зайка” She didn’t give you much time to respond as she pushed inside your hole making you scream out only for it to be muffled by the pillow case. She bottomed you out giving you some time to adjust to her girth. She whispered sweet nothings against you back until you gave her the go to go further.

Her pace started out slow not wanting to make you uncomfortable as the wet sound of skin clapping against each other filled the room mixed with both your groans and moans. Natasha pace was steady as the moans you released got louder and louder. Natashas hands gripped the flesh of you ass kneeling it before she got an idea. She spread your cheeks giving her the perfect look at your muscle ring. She spit on it only making you consciously of her actions. “Natty what are yo-” you got interrupted by your own scream as Natashas finger pushed past the ring the spit and your cum making a perfect lube. You clammed down hard in Natashas shaft as you were unexpectedly an anal whore. Your moans turned into screams the mixture of both penetrations making you climax in recored time. “Fuck you dirty slut you can deem yourself lucky I haven’t made you my breeding bitch yet” she mumbled pulling out of both holes before roughly throwing you to your back again. After a few more pumps with her large hands she came all of your stomach before laying down next to you.

She didn’t need long to recover from her high as she pushed some sweaty strands of hair behind your ear smiling like she didn’t just turn you into her whore. “Are you still lonely” you shook your head being too tired to even speak. She finally kissed your lips before picking you up bridal style and caring you into your shared bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up in a nice and warm bath shall we baby” she was just the woman for you.

#natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x female reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff smut #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff

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keravnous · 1 year

Text

bathroom b!tch; tangerine/fem!reader (smut; 18+)

part two | part three | part four

playlist: train quickie with tangerine

Tangerine meets you in one of the bathrooms on the bullet train. He just wants to clean up after his tussle with Ladybug and get rid of the blood, but he could use you to blow off some steam as well. You know: he has to take it if he sees it.

word count: 5,9k

warnings: mirror sex, bathroom sex, semi public, fingering, oral (female receiving), blood (it's tangerine's), squirting, dry humping, rather rough sex, unprotected sex, light choking, confined spaces, dirty talk, name calling, kinda a quickie?, tangerine's a little rude but surprisingly gentle too idk he's just like that, he just needs to fuck the adrenaline outta himself, i have very strong feelings about this angry man

title is from the song of the same name, bathroom bitch by holychild

also thank you v for a) helping me out with Japanese and b) by telling me what being a passenger on a bullet train feels like

You knew it was a bad idea.

Starring at yourself in the impressively clean mirror of the small bathroom, you try your best to hold back any fresh tears.

You knew that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work. You fucking knew it and yet you accepted your fiancés pleas to Just try it. Maybe, it indeed would've worked out if he wasn't fucking his bloody secretary.

You regret leaving London. You miss your home.

You're not even that heartbroken, you just feel exhausted, like you wasted an awful lot of time.

You take a long, good look at yourself. Bloodshot eyes and a sad hue resting over your pupils, turning the colour dark and deep. The dress, that you bought for your anniversary brunch – a surprise, quite as much as the one he gave you, when you walked in on him, balls deep in his secretary – now looks oddly strange, out of place on you. You feel overdressed and ashamed, foolish.

But there’s something else, too: the loneliness that followed suite after your screaming, after fighting with him - after breaking up with him. It's been there since you boarded the train to Nagoya but now it rolls over you like a wave of-

Thump, thump.

"What the fuck", you mutter, taking a ragged breath, before yelling out, "Occupied!"

You just want to be left at fucking peace, not being watched by other passengers as you're bawling your eyes out. All you want is to get off that train and burn some of that fucker’s money on a spontaneous vacation. All you want is for the remaining days in Japan to be good ones.

Another sharp knock follows. This one rattles the door.

It takes a moment for you to scramble for the right words, the ones you have picked up when visiting your fiancé before. "Shiyouchu!"

Another knock. And another.

Motherfucker.

You clench your teeth - saying goodbye to the precious moments of crying in silence for the year you've lost to the most useless relationship of all fucking mankind - and wipe away the wetness below your eyes to open the door. "I said-"

Oh.

Oh shit.

There's a very handsome man waiting outside the door. He is towering over you, impatience plastered on his face and seeping through his every movement, with the way he's leaning against the door frame.

He's hot.

Also, he's dripping in blood.

His light blue shirt, once crisp and clean, is now disshelved and just as stained as his expensive looking dark-blue vest.

"Jesus, fuck, are you alright?", you blurt out.

The man's raising an eyebrow. "Could be asking you the same, love. Now, would you please get the fuck outta there."

He's moving towards you, closing in the last few inches separating the two of you. Your gaze is focused on the nasty cut on his arm.

"You're bleeding", you say dumbly.

His eyes shoot up at you and for a split-second you feel like you are face to face with a predator. The anxiety, that the blood and his rude behaviour sparked in your chest, sends adrenaline pumping through your veins and has the muscles your legs preparing for fight or flight. He blinks.

"I know", he says and his lips curl up to something, that you're convinced is supposed to be a smile, "Now, if ya'd be so kind?"

He gestures behind you, towards the empty bathroom.

"No?", you say, voice shooting up a little, which immediately has him cautiously throwing a glance down the hall to his right, "No, I won't! You need help, how the fuck -- what the fuck happened?"

"You're starting to really get on my fuckin’ tits, pretty thing. Would y'just let me the fuck inside?", he growls, tilting his head towards you. His tone has the hairs on your arms rising, as he is starring you into the ground.

You back up, colliding unpleasantly with the doorframe, that nearly drills itself into your left shoulder.

"Thank you, Lady", he's squeezing past you and then turns around again, giving you a quick one-over. You are unable to move, mesmerized by the way he's looking at you.

The corners of his mouth tilt up again and one of his hands, a little sticky and red with his own blood, comes up to his face, straightening his moustache, as his gaze runs over your body once more. You should leave, you should run - clearly, something is awfully and so not right but you just can't, being glued to the spot by his eyes.

It shouldn't make your loins grow hot, but you can't help it. You feel your belly tingle, shooting sparks down down down between your legs. He is very attractive and the aura of pure fucking danger that wafts around him doesn’t do what it normally should do – instead, it pulls you in. Oh, aren’t you just fucked.

"What were y'saying about help, again?", the man murmurs, gaze locking with yours.

"Uuuh", it's a very stupid sound you make and his eyes spark up at that, lips giving room to flash some teeth, "I-I just said you look like you might need some help?"

"Well, maybe I do."

He licks his lower lip and you blink, gaze following the movement.

This is very stupid. This is risky, dangerous, and most likely something you are going to regret.

It's not only the situation, it's him, too. He seems dangerous. It's not only the blood, mind you. It’s the way he moves, how his eyes dart through the room, over your body. It’s the aggression in his voice that he’s trying to hide, cover up but ultimately fails, something that seeps through every pore of him.

But he's also just ridiculously hot, walking with his crotch first, heavy northern British accent swirling the words around his tongue and, fuck, it's mostly the way he's looking at you.

And you're just so fucking full of anger and grief and your life feels strangely directed and determined by your shitty-ass fiancé and there's so much rage and sadness -

You take a step into the bathroom and the door slides shut behind you.

"Good", he hums, "Because you do look, like you could also use some help."

The door locks behind you and take another step forward, approaching him. "You have no fucking idea", revenge sex is a very stupid concept but now, it seems very tempting. It's exciting and makes you feel oddly alive.

"Did'ya get dumped?", and you don't know why you trust him with that information but you can hear yourself say: "Cheated on. Fiancé of twelve months." There is a hand sneaking around your waist, pulling you in closer. You can smell him now, the blood on his skin and clothes, the heavy scent of his perfume – it’s warm and thick, vanilla and fruit, like an orange grove.

"Allow me the comment - that's one bloody stupid bastard."

You look up at him and blink. That man's insanely pretty and you swallow as he pulls you in even closer, your hand connecting with his chest. It is firm and warm and your fingers get a little sticky with the fresh blood on his shirt. They splay out, feeling the firm muscle flex beneath the expensive fabric.

"How much time d'we have, sugar?", he hums, runs his thumb across your lower lip.

"I have to get off in Nagoya."

"Gonna get you off alright now, sweetie", you roll your eyes at that and he chuckles, "Bit more than half'n hour I'd say. Think we can manage that?"

You nod while biting your lip, adrenaline thick and heavy in your veins, pumping your blood down south and making you wet wet wet, and he laughs at that, runs his tongue along his bright, bright teeth.

It's sheer excitement that has your belly tingle and you lock your eyes with his, the darkening blueish green pulling you in and then he leans down, locks his lips with yours.

They are soft and warm and his moustache tingles a little. You hum against his lips, one hand fisting his vest as the other sneaks up his muscular arm, runs over and through the blood, up up up next to the cut and comes a halt on his neck. The hand on your waist holds you close, fingers spread out delicately as he starts to feel you up.

His tongue darts out and licks over your lips and you gladly give him more room, parting your lips slightly. He's pushing in, licking into your mouth. You hum deep in your throat, pressing against him, tasting the cigarette smoke on his lips.

You can feel the bulge in his pants, his dick pressing hotly against your lower belly. It ignites your loins, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.

You moan into his mouth and he responds by pushing you back, heaving you up the small sink, deepening the kiss. Your back presses against the mirror as you clutch onto him, hand running up his neck and into his hair, slick with product and a little sticky with sweat. Your knees hit his hipbones and the man starts to roll his hips into yours, having his hard dick rubbing against your crotch and your eyelids flutter with the feeling. He's rock-hard and so so hot through his dress pants and you can't fucking wait to get to it.

He eventually breaks the kiss, breath ragged as his eyes roam over your face, hands feeling your thighs up. You decide that you need more of him and thus, your free hand roams over his chest, fingers making quick work of his vest. As soon as you pop the last button, he hastily tears it off of himself, throws it to the ground where it lands with a quiet thud.

"C'mon sweetheart, I know you clammin' to touch me", he says, voice deep and raspy and you do - like you're on fucking autopilot. Your hands dart out, roaming over his defined chest. He feels nice and firm and makes you want him more, want to feel all of him, all at once.

He hums quietly, as you open a few buttons of his shirt and run your hands over the sweaty, warm skin, through the dust of fine chest hair, making his chain rustle. He feels nice and it makes you want him.

The man looks up from your hands and you don't know what has come over you as your hand glides up further, cupping his neck, thumb on his jawline. "Fuck me", you breathe, "Fuck me 'til I can't walk."

He grins and leans in even closer, his clothed and hard dick pressing against your wet panties, as he's kissing a wet trail from your jaw to your ear. "Who would've thought - such a naugh'y lil'mouth on such a pretty woman."

You hook one leg around his waist, tugging lightly at the hair that's curling in his neck as he starts to suck on your neck. The slight pain ignites your lust, has arousal blooming and wetness pooling between your legs. You want to tell him to stop, before he marks you up for good as --

"Name's Tangerine", he suddenly rasps, as his tongue rubs over the spot he has been sucking on and you're pretty damn sure that he just gave you a hickey.

"Like the-"

"The fucking fruit, yeah. 'M gonna burst you more like something of a cherry, though", he rumbles, quietly laughing to himself with his fingers digging into your hips.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses himself flush against you - all firm muscles, perfume, and hot skin - tongue licking over your throat like the hot blade of a knife, dancing over your jaw.

It's most likely not his real name and that should really, really alert you. But it doesn't - instead you surrender yourself to him, letting your head fall back and parting your legs, inviting him in.

And the man -Tangerine - follows suite and shoves your dress up up up, runs his hands over your now exposed thighs. You lean forward a little, until your lips brush over his. "Name's Y/N", you whisper and his eyes glint a little at that, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, you gon' be a fun one", he grins and you do too, before leaning in and kissing him again. He is less gentle now, keen on getting you hot, his kisses turn sloppy quickly, biting your lower lip and licking into your mouth until you lack air. The thumbs on your legs dive in deeper, until they connect with your crotch. And then, one of them gently runs over your soaked panties.

Tangerine breaks the kiss, wet lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, only to inhale sharply - keeps his cheeks puffed theatrically for a short moment, then exhales just as sharply, eyeing you up and down. "Jesus Christ, that pussy of yours s'fucking wet, innit?", he rumbles and two of his fingers run over the wet fabric once more, slowly starting to rub your clit.

You gasp, hips bucking a little and you watch the way his hand vanishes under the hem of your dress. "Fuck", you moan quietly as he quickly finds the spot that makes your thighs clench. He rubs you through your panties, soft lace turning wet wet wet and dampening his skin. Your mouth falls agape seeing his wrist twitching between your legs and the way he's looking down at it, a little mesmerized, makes your head swim. Then, he stops.

"Yeah, let's get those off", he mutters, more to himself than to you and then he's tugging at the straps of your panties, riiips the lace and tears them apart. "Oh-", you gasp unintelligently as he carelessly drops them to the ground and you really don't fucking mind at all.

It's the first time in a long time that you feel wanted, like someone's actually hungry, greedy for you. And it turns you on. A lot. It is like Tangerine has flipped a switch and you want him just as much as he seems to want you. And you want it now.

You blink at him through your lashes. "You gonna touch me now?"

"Easy, love", he chuckles, genuinely amused and then his fingers are slooowly creeping back over your legs, until his index finger finally touches your exposed cunt. The touch is cold, but not unpleasant and you suck in a sharp breath, one that hitches in your throat.

He watches you, as he runs it over your pussy, quickly joined by a second, digits running up and down, spreading your slick. You hum, pleasure building up in your abdomen and then, finally, his fingers return to your clit.

Slow, wide circles spread your lips apart, making you moan and throwing your head back in pleasure. His bracelet clinks as he quickly picks up a faster rhythm, keen on seeing you coming loose, circles growing smaller.

"Oh shit, yes that's fucking it", you can feel arousal building in your stomach, shooting through your body. Tangerine laughs under his breath and his lips are onto you again, licking and sucking over your straightened neck. You don't give a fuck anymore, the slight pain of him bruising your skin makes your hips buck and rolling against his digits.

"Such a good girl, ain't ya?, he groans against your neck and it sends shivers down your spine as you're moaning and gasping, nodding frantically.

Your body feels like it has been ignited, with the way his fingers rub your clit, teasing your pussy and then there's one finger circling your hole and fuck, you really fucking need it. You spread your legs farther and Tangerine puuushes in, sinks one rather cold finger in your hole, your hot hot skin meeting the cold gold of his ring.

Tangerine starts to fuck you slowly, finger pushing in and out of you, until you're loose enough to take a second one. His rings thrust against your hole every time he pushes them back inside and the sensation has you whining, his lips still glued to your neck, occasionally moving down down down to you cleavage, licking fat stripes over your warm, sweaty skin.

A flood of very good, very dangerous emotions has one of your hands abandoning the sink, instead running up his arm, splaying across his shoulder. You can feel the muscles working slightly beneath the light blue fabric, a little dampened by his sweat. "Fuck, you make me so hot, shit, that feels so good", you whimper quietly, gasping as his fingers push even deeper. It seems to kick Tangerine off, moustache grazing your skin as he’s picking up an even faster rhythm - rubbing, circling your clit faster, adding more pressure - obscene squelching sounds filling the air of the small bathroom. You moan as pleasure shoots up your spine, has you rocking on and against his fingers.

You can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, hole fluttering against the cold, golden rings and then --

He breaks from your throat and whistles lowly as fresh wetness pools around his fingers, your squirt dampening his golden bracelet and the cuff of his shirt.

Tangerine pulls his fingers out of you slowly, slick with your juices and looks at them for a few seconds, the way your wetness is glistening on his skin in the dim lights. He brings them up up up, gaze connecting with yours and then -

They go past his lips, as his tongue darts out and licks them clean. You blink - once, twice. "Fuck", you breathe, and he chuckles.

"You taste like a fuckin' dream, love", his hands push your legs further apart and before you know it, he sinks down to his knees. You blink at him, as he lifts the hem of your dress up, "Might wanna hold that f'me", and you do, pulling the fabric as high up as you can, exposing yourself to him further.

Tangerine tsks as he takes the sight in and you can feel your cheeks growing hot, burning red, as his fingers dance over your pussy.

"Don't ya just have the prettiest cunt?", he hums, running his fingers through your folds, "'M gonna fuck ya so good."

"Jesus, Tangerine", you huff out, legs shaking a little as his thumb carefully rubs over your clit.

Tangerine looks up at you, smirking a little and then he's leaning in, hands coming to rest on your thighs, forcing your legs apart. He's not breaking eye contact, keeps your gazes chained together, as he dives in and licks a long, fat stripe from your hole upwards to your clit.

You fucking mewl, as his moustache rubs over your sensitive skin, tongue circling your clit for a short moment. His eyes gleam up at you, watching your reaction as his tongue swipes down, over your folds to your hole, teasing it. It has your legs kicking a little and you grab the sink with both your hands, as your thighs give a quick shake.

You can hear him chuckle deep in his throat and it makes you hot hot hot all over, with the way his tongue crawls back up, lips grazing your cunt and then he's onto your clit once more, gently lapping at it, placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin.

A strangled noise escapes your throat as arousal rushes through your abdomen and up up up your whole body, has your chest heaving with a ragged breath and rolling your hips forward. It's so so good, but not enough - you just need more.

"Don't ya move, love", Tangerine rasps and one of his hands grabs your hips forcefully, dress sliding up to your navel as he's holding you in place. The other crawls up your lower leg and thigh, teasing your folds and then one finger presses against your hole, pushes in roughly.

You moan as he immediately starts to fuck you with it, pumping your wetness in and out of you with a rather merciless rhythm, keen on having you come for him, having you squirt once more.

His eyelids flutter, long and dark lashes against his pale skin as his tongue licks over your folds, tasting your wetness and taking your scent in. You're tasting so so sweet to him, like a fucking forbidden fruit that he's going to devour anyways, because he can and he will and because fuck the rules he had set himself for this job.

He closes his eyes as he pushes a second finger into you, pumping them in and out of you, while his tongue laps at your cunt, lips closing in around your folds, gently sucking. His fingers are fucking you fast now, pushing you further and further.

"Oh god", you gasp, one hand still holding your own weight, the other now fisting his hair, pulling it. It seems to spur him on, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and placing wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cunt, gently nibbling at the soft skin as his finger pumps into you. It's even better than before, with his beard scratching you and his tongue and lips gliding over your cunt as if it were a riddle he's going to solve without his hands. The heel of your shoe digs into his back - desperate for any leverage, to just feel him - as you are nearing your release.

"Shit, fuck fuck fuck", your voice sounds strange in your ears, high-pitched and far far away, between the squelching sounds that his rapidly moving fingers pull out of your pussy, "I'm gonna-"

He hums and then, after a short moment, pulls his digits out of you and grabs your hips hard, holding you in place, not stopping his tongue from rubbing over your cunt hard.

It tips you over the edge, has you breaking loose. You gasp loudly, throwing your head back against the mirror, incoherent rambling leaving your lips as you come - riding your orgasm out on his face as he licks you through your orgasm, your hips bucking wildly with it.

As your orgasm rolls over you, you already know that this isn't over. Usually, you would be spent for now, calm and a little tired but right now - you're not at all, lust still rolling over you, fresh wetness pooling between your legs again. "Mhm, shit", you breathe, feet kicking a little as Tangerine's tongue continues to flick over your clit. You are still wet, already desperate for more, more of him.

All you can think about is his hard dick, that you've felt earlier pressing against your crotch and pure want tingles in your stomach. Tangerine's lips close in around your throbbing clit, overstimulation making your head swim.

"Please, fuck, please", your hip bucks against his iron grip that holds you steadily against the sink. Tangerine looks up at you again and let’s go of your clit with an obscene pop. His moustache is dampened by your wetness as he grins up at you. "Please please", he mocks your high-pitched whines and then smirks, "Wan'it that bad, love?"

"Need you - ah, fuck - inside me. Oh, shit", you whine, as your hole clenches around nothing, desperate for more than his fingers. You are so turned on by this stranger, lust crashing over your body like waves - you can feel its tingle in your chest, your legs, feeling your pussy desperate for another touch.

Tangerine blinks for a moment and you're sure, that you saw his eye twitch and then he, very dramatically, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. "Shit, love, you make me feel all sorts o'things", he says quietly and then quickly gets up, wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

He leans in and his lips lock with yours again and you can taste yourself on his tongue, as he licks into your mouth, grinning against your lips, damp stache rubbing over your upper lip. He licks over it, groans deep in his throat, while his hands brush over your legs, before he commands, whispers against your lips: "Bend over the sink f'me.”

"What?", you blink, words not really reaching you through the lustful haze that has wrapped your brain in like cotton candy. All you can do is look at him, at this very handsome stranger with the very fake name and he has your head swimming, brain giving in and surrendering to lust once more.

You take the hand he offers you as he helps you down the sink, your legs a little wobbly. "Alright c'mon now, girl, don't keep me waitin'", Tangerine gives you a light pat on the cheek, rings barely connecting with your skin - a patronizing gesture that has your knees going ever weaker for a moment as you try to turn around, hands gripping the edges of the sink.

You watch him in the mirror, as he makes quick work of his belt and the fly of his trousers. As he pulls his dick out, your mouth waters. It's long and big and has just the right girth, a drop of precum glistening on its tip. You'd really like to suck that cock, like right motherfucking now.

Tangerine looks at you. "Got all hungry fo'it?", and you nod - breathing out Fuck yeah - arching your back for him, "Alright love, just a minute."

He spits in his hand and rubs the saliva over his dick, giving himself one, two strokes. You arch your back, keeping your eyes on him as he grabs your hips hard, lines himself up, head of his dick resting against your hole - all hot and hard - and then he finally, finally pushes himself in. The stretch is nice and has you squirming a little with the dull pain, excitement lighting your nerves up.

"Jesus Christ", his head falls forward a little, "You're so fuckin' tight."

He bottoms out, forcing himself in deep, holding still. You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, but he doesn't move and you can see his chest heaving, hear him grunt. His hand roams over your bare ass, shoving the dress even higher, until your back is partly exposed and his hand creeps around your body, over your stomach and under the dress, slips beneath your bra and cups one of your tits.

Tangerine squeezes it, feels you up and then pulls his dick back out only to quickly push himself back in. The sound that leaves your throat is nothing but desperate and your hand grips the sink harder, knuckles slowly turning white. His jaw is going a little slack as he rolls his hips into you, fucking you slowly.

"Ah shit", he groans, a deep and coarse sound, that makes you shiver, "Doesn't that just feel lovely?"

He watches the way his dick pumps into your pussy, eyebrows drawn together, lips slightly agape - until his gaze meets yours in the mirror once more and there it is - a shadow that dances over his eyes, turning the mesmerizing blue and green dark dark dark. One of his hands suddenly darts forward, rings glimmering in the dim light, only to roughly grab your chin, forcefully holding your head in place. It hurts a little, but the pain feels good, the way it stretches your back and intensifies the arch of it, forces you to look at him and yourself. Your mascara is pooling beneath your eyes, pupils blown wide and cheeks reddened.

"Would'ya just look at yourself", Tangerine groans, "Ya might be the hottest fucking thing I've seen in a long fuckin' time --" He groans again, thumb catching your lower lip and you moan as you watch his face coming a little loose with pleasure.

Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, thrusting into you and you push your hips back, meeting him - desperate for more more more. He grins at you in the mirror and his hand creeps a little lower, until it rest riiight below your jawline and then -

Then he squeezes.

It has you gasping, choking a little at the sudden loss of air and the feeling of your windpipe being closed. Your hip bucks against his and he licks his lips.

The lack of air has adrenaline rushing through your veins once more, as his dick pushes against your spongy hot walls and you feel your body surrendering to him fully, the small voice in the back of your head remembering you that You are at his mercy has you growing even wetter.

The hand lets go off your throat, now gently holding your head in place and you suck in a few deep breaths, gasping, greedily sucking in the air, as --

There must be a bump on the rails, as the wagon suddenly lifts a little and has you thrown forward towards the mirror, shoves his dick deeper into you. You moan, instinctively catching his eyes in the mirror.

His lips are slightly parted, eyes darkened by lust and his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. The train speeds up just as he leans forward, throws his chest against your back. His body is so so hot against yours and your walls flutter around his dick, as his scent wraps you in once more.

Tangerine lowers his head, until his forehead rests on your shoulder, cock twitching inside of you. "Ya have no bloody idea what'cha doin' to me, Lady", he says, voice coarse and dark and your eyelids flutter, "'M gonna ruin ya."

He lifts his head a little and your gazes connect in the mirror once more. A shiver runs down your spine - he means it.

And you feel it, too, as he thrusts into you once, knocks the air out of your lungs with the sheer force of it. The tip of his dick hits the spot perfectly and you nearly cry out in pleasure, hands gripping the sink tightly. There are small lines forming around his eyes as he's grinning against your shoulder, pulls out a little only to force himself back in, even deeper this time. The hand that was toying with your tit leaves, crawls back down and his arm wraps itself around your waist, holds you close.

Your legs shake as Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, starts pounding in to you like a starved man, like an animal gone wild. It's in his eyes, hunger hunger hunger and you feel pleasure shooting through your body, pooling in your abdomen. You squirt against his dick, wetting the trimmed pubic hair as his balls slap against your wet skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, a strangled high pitched whiny moan escaping your lips, as he hits your walls again, tip of his dick brushing over your g-spot, having you seeing stars. Your eyelids flutter, gasps escaping your mouth with every one of his thrusts.

"Be fuckin' loud, you lil'slut, I don't care - one - bit", he says through gritted teeth, each word one thrust, "If they come knockin'. I’ll kill’em."

It shouldn’t – really, it shouldn’t – but it has your head swimming, rocking back against him, obscene sounds filling the small bathroom and you moan loudly. His jewellery rustles and clinks as he ruts into you, huffing against your shoulder. The force of his thrusts has your body moving back and forth like a ragdoll, hipbones bouncing against the sink, one of your hands coming loose and pressing flat against the mirror, desperate for any sort of leverage.

You can feel yourself clenching around him, white hot pleasure building on the edges of your brain, until there's nothing left but him him him.

"Fuck", you cry out, "I'm gonna fucking cum, shit shit shit", lips falling agape with pure pleasure. It’s too much and you can feel your muscles tensing.

The hand around your throat tightens a bit more and that’s all you need – has your eyes falling shut, your second orgasm rolling over you. It knocks the air straight out of your lungs, has you going limp, while the muscles in your thighs and abdomen clench, holding and squeezing his dick inside of you.

You can hear him moan deeply, sounding far far away and then his cum hits your walls, paints it as he buries himself deep deep inside of you. You gasp, desperate for air and he lets go off your throat.

You suck in a few breaths and feel him doing the same, chest heaving against your back. "Fuck", he says and slowly straightens back up, looking at you in the mirror.

"Y'good over there, love?"

"Uh-huh", you hum, unable to speak, and blink at him. His hair's a mess and his cheeks are a little reddened, glistening with sweat.

Tangerine fucking winks at you and then slooowly, very carefully pulls out of you. You inhale sharply as you feel some of his cum following suite, dripping down your legs. You want to straighten up, too, clean it up, but he's quicker, taking one of the disposable towels and gently sweeps along your cunt.

"'S good, I can do that too, y'know", you say and take it from him, cleaning yourself up. For a long moment, while you can hear him putting himself back in his pants, there's silence between the two of you. Only, as you carefully put your dress back in place, does he look at you again.

"Be careful tonight, sweetheart", he says nonchalantly while tugging his shirt back into his slacks. He says it like it's nothing but it has the hairs on your body standing up.

I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. You look on the slight stains that his blood left on your fingers, that soaked his shirt.

"Make you sure you get out of that train in Nagoya, y'hear me?", his gaze is soft as it lands upon you. Your brain goes numb with anxiety.

"Y-yeah, yeah sure. I'm meeting a friend there, wouldn't miss her for the world."

He smiles at that. A genuine, warm smile. It does something funny to your stomach. "Alright love, gotta dash", he's straightening his vest and giving himself a glance in the mirror, running his hands through his hair, "There's this chap I gotta get rid of. Gimme a call, when you're in London, would'ya?"

You just nod and take the slim, white card he hands you. The numbers on it are orange.

"Very fucking funny", you huff and he grins, leans down towards you, and places his lips on your cheek. The kiss is feather-light but it'll haunt you late at night in the weeks, months to come after the story of the crashed bullet train breaks the international news. But right now, it makes your chest tingle in all the right ways.

"Tis'a good girl, eh?", Tangerine whispers and then, throwing one last look at you, struts out of the door.

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine smut #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine x reader #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson

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rottenblur · 5 months

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Shades of cool|A.Anderson

Summary: You haven’t seen Abby in three days, completely ghosted you confront her and well it seems she won this time.

Warnings: Abby being a stoner, weed consumption(not reader), oral sex, hickeys, dirty talk, smut, fingering, abby being asshole sort of, face riding, praise (good girl), lowkey degradation.

College football! Abby x fem reader 1.8k

Part two to national anthem

It had been three days, no show to class nor practice. You had one option, you really didn’t wanna do it.

If you didn’t figure out what was going on with her you would go crazy, starting to regret not asking for her number before shoving your tongue down her throat and drinking in her wound.

You slide your feet into crocs, looking in the mirror, you look decent enough. You open your door making your way down the hallway to make a pitstop at your best friend's dorm.

You knock on the door, you hear rustling then a bang and the door knob turning. She opens the door rubbing her eyes.

“What’s up?” She asks, looking around.

“Abby been in?” You hold your elbow with your other arm knowing it’s an out of the blue question. You’ve never cared about her before now so why would you care now?

She furrows her brows in confusion. “Uhhh? I wouldn't know.” She points to the dark room, those blackout curtains were her life she could sleep through anything. Unfortunately.

She tilts her head waiting for an explanation. “Oh, I found one of her rings after the game, need to return it.” she laughs, you know she would have just pocketed that shit, except the ring didn’t exist. You needed to see her.

You wave her goodbye then walk next door to Abby’s knocking then waiting. The light peaks under the door, you knock again. “It’s me.” You say, you don’t know why, it’s not like she knows your voice by heart. She makes this clear when she asks who from behind the door, you hear her get up then come to the door.

She opens the door, the air moving her loose hair, her cheeks flushed and damp. It looked like she just worked out. “Is this a bad time?” You ask her, she leans on the doorway looking at you. “Depends what you’re here for.” Looking you up and down, tucking her now scabbed lip into her mouth.

You look into her eyes, and oh she really did get a black eye, you’d think you would notice it quicker but no. It was purple and black, it weirdly suited her. You point to it. “That hurt?” She furrows her brows at you trying to decipher what you meant then she figures it out. “Nah, ‘m good.” You roll your eyes at her, she sits at her desk and man spreads her legs on the seat.

“That’s what you said last time, still let me patch you up though.” You say walking in to sit on her bed. Her room was what you expected, sports posters, a playboy magazine collection not so secretly stashed in a drawer, looks like the classics too. She had her shoes all lined up in a corner, it was clean and way tidier than you thought it would be.

She looks at you, scuffing at your comment. “Whatcha looking at?” She asks, pulling your attention to her. “I came here for a reason by the way.” She looks at you opening up a drawer, pulling out a baggie, grinder and papers.

“Shoot.” She plucks a bud from the baggie putting it into the metal grinder, twisting it as she turns to face you. “Where have you been?” You ask, tucking your legs beneath you. She sighs, taking the top of the grinder off and sprinkling crumbs into the folded rolling paper. “Around.” She says looking up at you. She’s starting to piss you off.

Maybe she was exactly who you thought she was, privileged, aggressive and rude.

You pinch your nose bridge between your fingers, rubbing it delicately. “You haven’t been to class, or practice, it's not like I have your number.”

She rolls the joint, licking the adhesive to seal it off, she opens her window. “Didn’t know you cared.” She huffed out lighting the joint, taking a drag and looking at you. You needed that fucking joint more than her right now.

You stand up, in front of her as she leans against the window seal puffing on some weed that stank up the whole room, making you want to take a breath of fresh air.

“Of course i fucking care Abby.” You look at her lungs full of smoke.

“I get it.” She exhales, all over your face.

“Do you?” You look at her now low eyes, it’s hard to feel in power when she towers over you. “Do you though? Seems like you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.” You continue, she bites her lip and walks closer to you. Oh god.

“I’m sorry darlin’ wasn’t ignoring you just had to figure some things out. Missed ya.” It was the weed talking and you knew it. You roll your eyes, she cages you in with her body against the wall, you missed her hands, her touch, her lips so you didn’t stop her.

“Missed you Abby.” You say as she kisses your neck, you know it’s wrong but what can you do?

You’ve seen her vulnerable, you’ve seen her enraged it’s impossible to know who the real Abby is. Is Abby kissing your neck while intoxicated the real Abby, or is it the one who needs someone to bandage her up the real one?

It’s impossible to break through her barriers, her strong appearance, was she strong inside? Was this a cover to hide her true feelings? Did she miss her ex? Were you a rebound?

Your thoughts are clouded by her lifting up your top, kneeling in front of you and kissing your hip bones. From one side to the other, leaving splotches of red behind. Reaching up to grab your chest as she looks up at you. Those fucking eyes. “Abby.” She keeps kissing, moving up your stomach to your chest marking purple bruises. “Yeah?” She responds, you know you should tell her to stop, she ignored you now she wants you.

But you don’t, unfortunately you want her too. “Keep going, please.” You huff out as she moves down again, grabbing at your waist band and pulling it down to your ankles. You step out of it, she kisses up your legs to your inner thighs. Marking them graciously, she kisses on your clothed cunt sending shivers down your spine.

“God you’re wet, so fucking easy.” She rubs from your slit to your clit, you wetting them through your panties. You watch as she rubs your clit slowly and brutally, tucking her hair behind her ear, those freckles make her look like an angel. She pulls her hand away, kissing your thigh one more time before stripping off your panties and throwing them aside. “I told you I’d be back darling.” She spreads your legs and sticks her head between them.

She teases your clit, licking it with a distance and only with the tip of her tongue. You grip onto her hair, keeping her right where you want her. Where you need her. She lets you put her mouth straight on you. She licks from your clit down to your slit up and down, up and down slowly. She was making you work for what you wanted.

You started riding her face, mouth wide open, her tongue hitting all the right spots, she took your ass into her hands engulfing the entirety, your hips uncontrollably grinding on her face.Your thighs clench around her head, as you come close to cumming all over her face. She moves her hands from tightly gripping your ass to your hips pushing them flat against the wall, away from her face.

“Not yet, be good for me yeah?” She says as she looks up at you, your juices dripping down her chin with a shit eating grin on her face, her hair messed up from you gripping it so hard. She puts one of your legs on her shoulder, pulling your hips back to her and diving back in. She sucks your clit into her mouth, drawing quick circles on it. She holds your thigh, mirroring her tongue with her thumb.

She reaches up rubbing her fingertips at your entrance, then prodding them into you, her thick long fingers don’t compare to your own, they split you apart as she pumps them into you curving them at just the right spot. You were holding your moans in before, as well your best friend was next door and she knew you were here. Fucking risky.

But you couldn’t any longer, your quiet moans from before were now near screams god you wanted to scream her name for the whole world to hear. She pumps them in and out, her tongue working magic on your clit, your thoughts fading away you couldn’t think of any logic, not that you could before. If you could, you wouldn’t have Abby’s fingers deep inside you right now.

You look down at her, she looks back up removing her fingers, you lock your fingers back into her blonde locks. She teases your hole again but with three fingers, as if you could handle that. “Abby, I can’t, won’t fit.” She looks at you as if you insulted her, pulling away from your clit slightly just to mumble. “I’ll make it fit darling.” And she does. She shoves her fingers back into you, introducing a fullness you didn’t know could exist.

Her mouth speeds up and so does her fingers, the consistent hitting of such a special spot inside you pulled you over the edge. You let out your last breathy moan of her name as your walls pulse on her. She pulls her mouth away, watching as her fingers struggle to move any longer inside. She pulls them out, a string of slick connecting you to her.

“God damn, never hear anyone say my name like that.” She removes your leg from her shoulder and stands up, shoving her fingers into your mouth as you suck on them, Abby watching intensely.

“Good girl, love to see you suck on something else sometime.” She kisses your cheek, pulling down your top and sitting you into the bed. “You were really good darling.” She reaches behind her, grabbing your pants, pulling them back onto your body, you lift your hips to assist her.

You’re never going to see those panties ever again and you know it.

You reach into your pants pocket, pulling out your phone to check the time. You’ve only been here for fifteen minutes, god damn. You could go for round two if it wasn’t for all the mind games she plays.

“Gimme your number.” She says holding out her phone. You nod and take it into your hands, typing in your number and saving it as a contact.

“Thanks.” You say back.

“For what? You should have come earlier, would have had more time to play with you but I have to study.” She says, playing an innocent look at you.

You stand up, walking towards the door she follows. She gives you a hug and a kiss then opens the door. “I'll text you, promise.”

You can’t fix her, she’s unfixable.

You have to tell yourself that.

A/n! I know this isnt a popular fic but ive been listening to shades of cool SOOOO MUCH i had to and she was the perfect fit. Asshole abby has my heart

Comment to be added to tag list :)

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chronicowboy · 4 months

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Maddie humbles him pretty severely in their conversation. Look, he knows it's stupid, knows it's selfish really, knows it's just plain crappy of him. But. But he hurt Christopher. And there wasn't some big uncontrollable variable like a tsunami that Eddie can explain it away with.

Sure, it was an accident, but it still happened. Sure, it was only a few scrapes that he'd cleaned up almost immediately with the little first aid kit tucked into the glove compartment of his Jeep - and, well, maybe part of the guilt is the way Christopher had grimaced at the added sting of the antiseptic wipes. But he'd done it. He'd made Christopher cry. And he'd ran as soon as Eddie swept in to take care of him. He'd ran before either of them could tell him to get out.

Christopher is injured, and Buck hasn't been to see him once. Christopher is injured because of Buck, and he's only checked in through a much too knowing Eddie. Because he's a coward, especially when it comes to Christopher. Jesus, nothing in the world scares him more than Christopher. Everything's so big and inconceivable with him. Buck feels it all, feels it all so strongly. The things he'd do for that kid... Well, that scares him too. Almost as much as Christopher's anger does, but he can't run from it forever. He can't stay away forever, so he shoots Eddie a quick text as he leaves Maddie's.

Can I come see Chris at some point?

He's just buckling himself into the driver's seat when his phone buzzes with a reply.

Get over here

Another buzz.

Now

His already knotted stomach twists into an even more complex shape as he turns the key in the ignition, but he has to face the music some time or another. May as well be now.

It takes him an inordinately long and nauseating time to get to the Diaz door, an even longer time to actually knock and then a terrifyingly short amount of time for Eddie to be appearing before him with those big, understanding eyes he can never seem to escape.

"Hi," he mumbles, suddenly struck with what image he must make out there on the porch. A naughty dog with a guiltily hung head and a tail between his legs just waiting to be patted on the head and told he's forgiven.

"Buck, come in." Eddie rolls his eyes and practically drags him inside. Buck had been about ninety-nine per cent sure (okay, maybe more like eighty) that Eddie's texts had been fond exasperation and not actual anger, but it's not until he hears Eddie's voice that he knows for sure. He was never a bad dog in Eddie's mind. Buck's tail wags just a little as Eddie leans back against the hallway wall with his arms folded over his chest. "He's in his room and he misses his Buck."

"Even after I almost killed him?" he mutters petulantly.

"Buck, you tripped over his crutches. The both of you went down and, honestly, you walked away worse than he did." Buck opens his mouth to argue, but Eddie ploughs on. "Don't lie to me. I saw those bruises on your ribs last shift. I know how weaponised those elbows can become."

"I'm fine."

"So is he," Eddie says seriously. "You know how many times I've tripped over his crutches?"

"Did you feel guilty about it afterwards?" Buck pries, eyes trained on his shoes where they kick lightly, sheepishly at the carpet.

"Of course, I did. I always do. Hell, I accidentally got some salt in his eyes when we were cooking the other day and I almost took myself down to Athena's station." Eddie shakes his head, unimpressed. "I'm his dad, I'd send him outside in a bubble wrap suit if I could. But I've been informed that isn't 'cool'," Buck snorts, "so I'm trying my best to make peace with the fact that that he's going to get hurt and I'm not always going to be stop it. But." Eddie steps closer, drops a hand to Buck's shoulder, ducks his hand to catch his eye. And Buck feels the echo of a wave and three ragged scratches across his face. "But I can always be there after it happens, to pick him back up and tend to his wounds, yeah?"

"Yeah," Buck whispers, nodding against the whirring of his brain.

"He's already mostly healed up. Go and see for yourself." Eddie leaves with a pointed look at Christopher's door, and Buck stays staring down the hallway like he can will it into something that feels a little less like a walk on the plank.

As he takes his first step, for just a moment, he wishes he was back in the endless labyrinthine hallways of his coma dream just to postpone his fate a little longer.

See, what he hadn't told Maddie was that he had actually tried texting Christopher a few days after their tumble. A sorry and an I hope you're okay and a jokey maybe we should leave basketball to the pros which had only gleaned a thumbs up emoji in response. So, he's not feeling very optimistic when he knocks on Christopher's door.

"Who is it?"

"It's Buck, buddy." Silence. A sigh maybe, if he strains. "C-can I come in?"

Another pause.

"Fine."

Buck pushes into the room with his heart in his throat. Christopher doesn't look up from his textbook where he's propped up against his headboard, just carries on reading. Buck approaches carefully, hovering at the end of the bed where he'd normally just sit.

"How are you doing?" he asks uselessly.

"Fine."

"Yeah?" Christopher only shrugs, and Buck sighs in defeat. "I'm really sorry, bud. I didn't mean to do it, you have to know that. I'd never ever do anything to hurt you-"

"Wait." Chris finally looks up from his book with his frown. "Do you think I'm mad because you tripped me up?"

"I-I, well, yeah." Buck blinks. "So, you are mad?"

"Yeah, I'm mad, but not about that." Chris groans and slams his book shut. "Why'd you disappear?"

"B-because I thought you'd be mad at me for, you know, hurting you," Buck says dumbly. Christopher rolls his eyes so similarly to Eddie's earlier expression that Buck aches with it.

"You didn't hurt me. Gravity hurt us."

"But you're mad at me."

"Because you disappeared!" Chris bursts. Buck's mouth snaps shut with a click. "Everything's changing. You and me and dad barely ever hang out anymore. And I know I'm getting older, so I shouldn't want to, but I do. But you're both dating, so it's always just the one of you. Or the three of us and a stranger. And I hate it. And the last time this happened, you promised you weren't going anywhere, but you did! And I want you both to be happy, and I really don't want dad to feel so lonely now I'm growing up, but I wish..." Christopher ducks his head as if suddenly realising he'd revealed too much.

"You wish?" Buck asks on the exhale of a breath he'd been holding since Christopher's little outburst, something fierce and jagged latching itself to his sternum.

"I wish you both could be happy with..." He shrinks into himself a little, and Buck wraps his hand around the footboard like a lifeline - like whatever Christopher is about to say will turn the world upside down. "I wish this was enough. I wish the three of us could make you both as happy as-as it makes me." He flushes and cracks his textbook open. "It sounds dumb when I say it."

"No, no," Buck croaks, something big and unwieldy expanding against the inside of his ribs, something that could choke him if he let it. "It doesn't sound dumb at all."

#sami rambles #wrote this in half an hour sorry! but i have actual work to do today so........#anyway i love one red herring conflict being used as a vehicle for a bigger deeper conflict :DD #911 spoilers #911 show #911 abc #911 spec #buckley diaz family #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #911 fic #911 ficlet #911 spec fic #buckley diaz family fic

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grimesgirll · 3 months

Text

sometimes you loathed sleeping in the middle just for the difficulty getting out of bed. if you were sandwiched between rick and daryl, then you had to peel their arms off - if you could manage to shrug off rick - and scootch to the end of the bed, using your arms even to bring yourself forward without making too much of a commotion.

“where’re you goin’, sweetheart?”

“bathroom.”

you send him a smile and peel his arm off once again to push off the bed and pad over to the en suite.

he’s all over you once you return to the bed and crawl on hands and knees back to your spot. before your head hits the pillow, rick’s hands are on you and wrapping around to lock you into his embrace.

rick needs you to sleep. you’re his soft, pliable paperweight. it’s just something you’ve picked up about the man. being the number one person he wanted in his arms flattered you. however, you weren’t prepared for how often rick took advantage of this access.

you’re choking back sweet moans once his two fingers breach your walls. you want to be shocked at the forwardness but rick knows you too well. instead, you’re grinding your hips back into him.

“you’re getting me all flustered again,” you mumble.

rick picks up the pace. “what? you don’t wanna cum all over my fingers before you go to bed?”

you nearly double into daryl hearing the sheriff’s words. “yes!”

“man, you’re keepin’ her up.”

rick clicks his tongue. “i don’t see her complainin’.”

you want to chime in with some smart comment but you’re too busy getting rick’s thick fingers jammed up your pussy.

“i don’t think you’ll be complainin soon enough.” rick remarks playfully to the other man. he lowers his lips to your ear. “wanna help us all sleep better, sweetheart?”

you shake your head sure.

next thing you know you’re on your hands and knees facing daryl. a hand in your hair guides you to his clothed cock.

“why don’t you show daryl how much you like us keepin’ you up?”

daryl sends you a look like he feels guilty that you’re freeing his pants instead of soundly sleeping but any remorse is gone once you flick your tongue against the side of his shaft.

rick lining himself up and subsequently knocking the wind out of you with a rocky thrust drives you right down daryl’s dick. you gag and daryl nearly jumps out of bed at the sudden feeling.

you feel like you’re being split open with rick ramming into you from behind. every thrust bounces you further up and down daryl’s cock. his hands find your braids. you braided your hair at night to lock in moisture not that rick didn’t love tugging on them so hard they unraveled.

stuffed to the hilt with cock, you’re finding it hard to think about anything else than the men pistoning you between them. all to sleep better. god knows they needed it though. the weight atlas had on his shoulders was nothing compared to what rick and daryl were saddled with.

at the very least, you could offer your ever accommodating pussy. it wouldn’t solve all of their problems but you could help.

and when they take such good care of you, how can you refuse?

circling back to your pleasure, rick reaches down to linger a finger or two strategically against your clit. you know it won’t be long for you once he maintains the same excruciating pace he liked to subject you to in order to get you coming twice on his cock; once to get started and once to finish him off.

after that, daryl would cum down your throat and bring you in for a heated kiss, nearly forcing you back into rick- still inside of you. eventually, rick’s pulling out to grab a soft towel to clean you off with while daryl lifts your hips for you so you can focus on his tongue between your teeth.

rick will bring over your favorite oversized sweatshirt of his to drown in. then you’ll be back, hugged to his chest.

daryl eventually rolls closer so you can lay your head on his chest. the position may require some reconfiguring as the night goes on but they’ll probably just shift you in your sleep so you don’t worry about it.

it won’t be long again until you’re waking up feeling needy or they are or you’re met with something hard beside you.

and this is why you love sleeping in the middle.

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ceresun · 4 months

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃.

The fourteenth of February was always the same for Alastor, always staying inside on his own, creating new ideas for his radio show. But this year is different, now he’s spending the day with his lover. And he’ll make sure by any means that no one ruins this day.

pairing : human! alastor x fem! reader

extra : fem! reader ⟡ word count - 0.6k ⟡ alastor is probably ooc and it might be cringe ⟡ reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ⟡

Alastor who had always spent his Valentine's day alone, opting to stay cooped up in his room, in recent times preferring to stay in his radio station, working on new ideas for his broadcasts. This isn’t to say Alastor wouldn’t receive letters in the mail consisting of women trying to capture his heart. He was a charmer, no doubt about it.

He just didn’t see the appeal in having women fawn over him purely for his popularity. That is up until he meets you. Alastor who had gone on a quick coffee run, trying to take a break from his work. Once it’s his turn to order, he looks up and sees you.

Alastor who tenses up, getting out of his trance once he hears your softly mutter a quick “Are you okay, sir?” He nods, fixing his glasses before stuttering out his order. Alastor who knows he has to have you once he hears your giggle and mutter of “Your order will be right with you!”

Alastor who grabs his coffee in a rush, hastily making his way back to the radio station, not noticing the message written on it. He wouldn’t have noticed it if it weren't for one of his coworkers pointing it out and teasing him.

“You’re definitely something.. Maybe you’d like to meet sometime? ᡣ𐭩”

IF SOMEONE WERE TO EVER ASK Alastor to list what the best things in his life would be, you’d be on that list. And of course, that would mean he’d do anything for you, his darling girl.

He’d never let anyone harm you. And if they did, Alastor would make sure they’d regret it. This extended to anyone, no matter if they were close to you. So when he heard one of your closest friends make fun of you right in front of your face, he knew he had to do something about it. They were none the wiser when he had lured them into a cabin out in the woods, pretending to be throwing you a surprise.

The scene was one you couldn’t even imagine. He had torn them into pieces until they were practically unrecognizable. His eyes flash towards his watch and he realizes you were probably waiting for him at home. With that, he picks up the body and disposes of it nearby and makes his way over to the cabin to clean himself up. He couldn’t go home with your dead friend's blood, now could he? Especially on a night where he’d be taking you out to dine.

Once he makes it home he goes inside and knocks on your guys bedroom door. “Dear, can I come in?” He asks, his joyful smile evident in his tone.

You hesitate before opening the door and letting Alastor in. Alastor sees your dejected look and worries. Had there been someone who had upset you while he was gone? “What’s the matter, cher?” He asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s nothing.. Just that I don’t really want to go out anymore. I don't think my dress fits all that well and—“ You say before getting interrupted by Alastor.

“If this is about what your little friend said, forget about their nonsense! You look lovely, darling.” He reassures you, grabbing your hand and placing a soft kiss onto it. “Now, let me go get myself dressed and we can head out, yeah?” He says before grabbing his suit and going into the bathroom to change.

Coming out of the bathroom, he makes his way over to where you sat on the bed and presses a kiss onto your temple. “Don’t you fret about anything, alright? Everything will be alright.”

“I’ll make sure nothing ever happens to you. No matter what.”

#𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´#alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor #human alastor #human alastor x reader

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monster-disaster · 4 months

Note

Hey, I love your writing so much! ♥️

Can I request a male orc x chubby fem reader? I was thinking about bondage and discipline. The plot is up to you but I wanted it to be something related to that. Like she's his timid and clumsly employee and he's a strict boss who gets amused by it because this is a reason to teach her some good manners while working for him.

I love the idea! I hope you will enjoy it! :)

boss!orc x curvy!reader Warnings: dom/sub, spanking, spice

His broad smile is covered by his hand as he leans on the wooden surface of his desk. It's well-organized and clean. His shoulders are wider than the backrest of his chair, but he fits in it perfectly. The screen of his laptop illuminates the depth of his brown eyes as he follows you with his gaze. The tinted glass walls of his office give a perfect view of your desk. Unlike his, your workspace is a mess of papers, coffee cups, and sticky notes. That's why you wander back and forth between your desk and his office door for the fourth time, always searching for something.

You are a mess. But damn. You are a cute one.

He shouldn't think about you this way. He shouldn't think about you at all. And especially not when he is at home with his hard dick in his hand. But what else can he do? Your whole being screams and begs for dominance and guidance. It seems like to him, you desperately need someone to make rules you can follow and punish you if you break those. You need control. And who else could give that to you other than him?

The white blouse on you is a cheap one. Probably that's why the orc can see through it when the yellow lights of the lamps reach you just the right way. You wear a matching bra, and he can barely tear his eyes away from the soft rolls of your sides when you turn. His attention wanders lower. A light snarl forms on his lips at the sight. Your dark jeans are tight and hug your round ass perfectly. Your thick thighs rub together as you walk, and he can't help but imagine them around his head as he eats you out, gripping onto your flesh.

He is already hard when you finally reach his office. A few soft knocks echo in the silence. The documents he asked for are hugged to your chest. "Come in," he says. His voice is loud and husky. You are flushed and out of breath. It looks pretty on you. He is sure he could do much more to make you lose your breath, though. "The papers you wanted," you tell him, lifting the stack in your arms. You are still at the door, lifting your weight from one leg onto the other. "I wanted them ten minutes ago." You stare at the floor so intensely that you don't notice the amusement dancing in his eyes despite his rough voice. "I'm sorry," you reply. Your voice is timid, and for a second, the orc feels sorry for you. You are still new and not used to the way everything works in his business. And you are a good employee despite your lack of organization skills and occasional clumsiness. You work hard and learn quickly with the right motivation, and you always stay after working hours without a complaint when he needs your help.

But still. You could do better. Your boss is sure of it.

"Why are you late again?" He asks, even though he knows your answer already. You gulp. Your arm around the documents tightens. "I didn't find them." He hums, leaning back on his chair. He radiates dominance and authority. The black fabric of his suit stretches around his arms as he links them together in front of his chest. "And why is that?" He asks you, letting his gaze wander to your desk. When you notice his attention turning away from you, your eyes widen. He saw you the whole time. "I'm sorry," you breathe out. "Close the door behind you, Y/N," he says. "And come closer." You do as he says, stepping into the office further after pulling the door shut behind you. "I said closer, Y/N," he says. "And put those down." You put down the documents on his desk, keeping your gaze down. "Look at me."

When you finally look him in the eye, he is reminded of why he chose you in the first place. You are beautiful, for sure, but it was your determination that he liked enough to hire you. After working in a factory for years, you wanted something else, and you were ready to fight for the change.

"What did I say about keeping your space clean?" He asks after a few seconds. There is a heavy, disapproving sigh in his voice that makes your lips curl downward with shame. "I did," you tell him. "It just… it got too much, and before I knew it…" "It happens because you let it," he says. "If you take care of your things immediately, they don't become a mess." "I know." "Come here," the orc says, pointing at the small space between his legs after he turns away from his desk.

You shouldn't. It's too close. It's too intimate.

But your legs move before you can say no.

Even though he is sitting, his eyes are at the same level as yours. "Good girl," he praises you. "See? You can do what I say." His words send shivers down your spine straight between your legs. "But you know I have to punish you, don't you?" Your eyes are wide as you look at him. Your lips feel dry as you try to say something, but nothing comes out. "It's important to do your job as quickly as you can. What if I needed the papers immediately? What if I needed them for a meeting? How would it look if I couldn't do my job because you can't find what I need?" Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him, afraid he is firing you. "Don't cry, sweet girl," he hums, grabbing your hands to squeeze them softly. He is so much bigger than you. "I still want you here because I know you can do much better. But I can't let it slide, can I?" You shake your head, but it's not enough for him. "Speak, Y/N." "No, you can't." "Good girls." His praises again. Your tights clench, and something flutters in your stomach. "I want you to pull down your jeans to your knees."

For a long moment, you forget how to breathe. Your boss wants what?

The man watches your reaction like a hawk. Maybe it was a wrong idea. Maybe you will run out of his office to report him.

But damn, he can't make himself to save the situation and his reputation.

"You heard me, Y/N," he says with forced confidence. "You broke my rules, and you have to get punished." Your gaze snaps to the closed door, and his muscles tense to stop you, to do something before he loses his business.

But you surprise him again.

"What if somebody comes in?" You ask timidly. A slow smile appears on his face. His tusks dig into his upper lip. "Nobody will disturb us, sweetheart." After a deep breath, you nod and unbutton your pants. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and excitement. You can barely believe what is happening. And you are okay with everything.

Your boss is a handsome orc. You noticed his sharp jawline and wide nose from the moment you introduced yourself at your job interview. He was definitely not who you imagined with his thick, braided hair and broad body. Even the modern office and the expensive suit couldn't hide the primal dominance shimmering under his dark green skin.

"Good girl," he says with approval. His dark gaze follows the curve of your wide hips and the line of your panties between your legs. "Lean over the desk. Ass out." Your whole body trembles as you do as he says. His desk is cold and hard under your elbows and stomach. And you are sure your head is ready to explode when you register the fact that he has a perfect view of your ass. You want to reach back to pull down your blouse as much as you can, but you have a feeling he wouldn't be happy about it.

And you are right.

The orc's erection uncomfortably presses against the inside of his underwear at the sight of you like this. Your back is in a slight arch as you press your bottom out as he asked. Your white panties stretch across your ass, still leaving a handful of your cheeks bare. His palms burn with the need to touch you.

"Tell me why you get punished, Y/N," he breaks the silence when he finally finds his voice. The words almost come out as a low growl. "Because I was late," you tell him. Your voice is timid and quiet. He can see your muscles tense and relax as you wait for what he will do. "Why were you late?" "Because of the mess on my table." "That's right," he nods. "You are a smart girl, Y/N. And what did I tell you about keeping your space clean?" "That I shouldn't let my work pile up into a mess. I should put away everything as soon as I can." "Good girl," he hums. Your whole body jerks up when you feel his hand on your bottom. He is soft and careful, exploring your flesh while his other hand goes to the middle of your back to keep you in place. The green color of his hand fits perfectly to the shade of your skin. "I didn't say you can move," he says. "I'm sorry." "It's okay, Y/N," he hums, still caressing you. "I will tell you what I will do, okay?" You hum in agreement. "I want your words, Y/N," he says. "When I tell you something or ask something, I want you to answer with words." "Okay," you force the words out of your tightened throat. Your nerves are raw and tense as you lean on his desk, half-naked. Fear and anticipation stretch in your belly. "Good girl." The world starts to spin around you. "I want you to stay like this while I spank you, alright?"

ALRIGHT?!

"Okay." "I give you ten since I think this is your first time, am I right?" "Yes." "Good. I will give you the first five with your panties on, but I will take it off for the next five, okay?" You gulp. "Okay." "I would like you to add sir every time you speak to me, okay, love?" "Yes, sir." His hand on your ass is warm and almost comforting. He can't get enough of the feel of you. You are soft and much more than a handful. "And if you change your mind or it's too much, I want you to say red, okay?" "Okay." A light slap on your ass makes you jump and squeak with surprise. "Okay, what?" He asks. His voice is stern while he waits to correct yourself. "Okay, sir," you reply hurriedly. "Good. Now tell me, what did I say before?" "If I change my mind or if it gets too painful, I say red." "You are a smart girl, Y/N," he says. "And I'm proud of everything you did since you were here, but you have to take care of your messiness." "Yes, sir."

Even though it comes as no surprise, you still can't contain your reaction when his large hand lands on your ass again with much more strength than the first time. Your whole body tenses and bounces at the slap, breaking a high whine out of your chest. "Count, Y/N." "One, sir," you tell him tightly. "Good girl." You barely hear the end of his words because of the next smack on your cheek. Your panties do nothing to protect you from his hand. "Two," you breathe out. And three. And four. "Five, sir," you groan with tightly closed eyes. Every fiber of your body is buzzing with something unfamiliar. Your ass burns and tears gather in your eyes, but you still throb between your legs. With every small movement you make, your clit rubs against the white, soaked fabric of your underwear. "You are doing so good, Y/N," he says after the fifth slap. He goes back to caressing your bullied cheeks again while talking to you comfortingly. "Can you continue? Or do you want to stop?" You know this is the right time to get out of here, but you are too deep. Stopping now doesn't even occur in your mind. "I want to continue, sir." "My brave girl," he hums.

And he is really proud of you. You take everything he gives you like a champ. Your whimpers and moans drive him crazy, and the way your ass shakes after every slap is enough to make a man wild.

He feels like a kid in a candy store when his fingers slip under your panties to pull down the fabric to your jeans around your knees. His eyes barely have enough time to register the sight when you reach back with both hands to hide yourself.

"None of that," he grunts, grabbing your wrists to keep them between his thick fingers, pinned to your waist. The new position forces your back to arch some more, pushing your ass out in front of his hungry eyes. The fact that you can't even move anymore should make you afraid, but the only thing you feel is the hot, heavy arousal that burns through your body. "It's a punishment, no?" He asks, and your eyelids immediately fall shut because of the embarrassment that surges through your veins. You know what he is talking about. "Sir…" "But it seems like you enjoy it too much," he grins darkly. His free hand slips down from your ass between your legs. He barely touches your soaked slit, but it's enough to send a shock through your already tense body. "Sir," you beg. "Please! I-" "Are we done with your punishment?" He asks sternly. His rough fingertips are still sliding up on down over your pussy, rubbing your clit and almost reaching your empty hole. "No, sir," you moan, letting your head hit the desk under you. "Then be a good girl and stop begging for a reward you didn't earn." His words almost make you cry. You can feel your wetness making a mess on your inner thighs, and your pussy aches even more than your burning bottom. "Yes, sir," you croak.

The orc behind you have to force himself to leave your pussy and go back to your ass. He grabs a handful of your flesh, letting his blunt nails dig into your heated skin. He promises himself he will lick your stretchmarks later, but now…

"Six," you jump. Your breathing is heavy, and your lips taste salty because of the tears running down your cheeks. Seven. Eight. "Nine," you cry. "Please, sir. I-please!" He loves you like this. A mess of arousal and begging. Your musky scent fills his nostrils. His cock twitches with every deep breath he takes. "The last one, Y/N," he says. "One more, and you are done." Your bottom is on fire when his hand lands on your ass again. The smack is loud and clear, followed by the sound of your voice escaping your lips. "Ten, sir," you sob.

"Come here, baby," he coos softly, helping you up from the table and sitting you down on his lap. You hiss at the painful feeling when your sensitive skin meets with his pants. You want to stand up immediately, but he stops you. "It's part of your punishment," he says, holding onto your hips. He feels you up, enjoying your every curve. "How do you feel?" He speaks up again when you settle down on his thigh. "Why are you crying? Was it too much?" You shake your head, letting him swipe off your tears with his thumb. "I'm fine, sir." "But?" He asks. "I'm… I-" You can't say it. It's almost comical. Your boss spanked you barely a minute ago, and you can't make yourself admit the state of your pussy. "Are you horny?" He asks helpfully. You nod. "Show me." Your eyes widen at his request. Your arm is still around his neck to keep your balance. "Spread your legs, sweetheart," he says. Your first reaction is to close your legs even tighter, but after a moment, you open up your thighs, letting him see your wet heat as it makes a mess on his pants. "Oh," you gasp, wanting to stand up again, but he doesn't let you go this time either. "No," he says. "Did I tell you to move?" "No, sir," you breathe out.

For a second, you thought about arguing with him. You are too heavy, and you will ruin his clothes, but honestly? You have your own problems. Like the constant ache and throb between your legs as your blood sears through your system in a hurry. The orc under you is a big guy; you have no doubt about holding your weight easily, and if he wants you to make a mess on his pants? Well, it's his decision too.

When his free hand that doesn't hold your waist slips up on your thighs, your legs open automatically. A shiver runs through your pent-up body as his fingertips run through your folds, gathering your wetness before slipping it into his mouth. Your lips open breathlessly as you watch him taste you. The low rumble of his chest vibrates in your bones and nerves.

"Please," you gasp. Your arm around his neck tightens as if you could force him. "Sir-" "Do you want to cum?" The orc asks, and when you vehemently nod, a slow smirk pulls on his lips. The curve is crooked because of his tusks. "Do you think you earned it?" He teases. You nod again. You really hope so. His eyes wander to your desk on the other side of the glass wall. It's still messy with papers and cups. Your bag is dropped on the floor, and your coat is ready to fall off the back of the chair. His fingers are still on your heat, teasing and prodding but avoiding giving you the pleasure you crave so much. The muscles of your thighs shake as you force yourself to stay put. You want nothing more than to grind your burning pussy on his thick fingers. The feel of his erection pressing against your bare thigh gives you a good idea of what he hides under his pants.

"I tell you what," he breaks the silence after a few seconds. His dark eyes glint with amusement as he looks at you. "If at the end of the day, your desk will be clean, I will give you what you want." "What?" You gasp, panicked. No, you need it now. You can't go through the day with the ache between your legs that drives you insane. And you don't even have the energy to think about your still burning ass. He lifts one of his thick brows in question. "Do you have a problem with it, sweetheart?" You know his question means nothing. If you say the wrong thing, you will get nothing. "No, sir," you exhale. "Good," he hums, kissing the side of your head with a soft squeeze on your hips. "Are you ready to continue the day?" After another shaky breath, you nod. "Yes, sir." "Good girl."

#sweet asks #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster smut #orc romance #orc x reader #terat0philliac #orc boyfriend #orc smut

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honeykaes · 1 year

Text

my heart hurts

breakup hookups hc's feat. alhaitham, thoma, childe, scaramouche

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, angst, modern au!, creampie (thoma), right person wrong time trope (thoma), fingering (alhaitham), wall sex (alhaitham), mutual breakup (alhaitham), cumshot (alhaitham), reader has breasts (scaramouche), boobjob (scaramouche), squirting (scaramouche), cunnilingus (scaramouche), reader broke up with scara via text, jealousy (childe), drunk sex (childe), semi-public sex (childe), scummy ex!childe, unedited

“I put the rest of your stuff in a box near the door. Just knock when you finally get here. Don’t be late.”

You grumbled reading the text before sighing and getting out of your car. Marching up to his door, you dove your hands into your pockets trying to mask the frustration pounding against your chest.

You thought Alhaitham was the one, and you think, he did as well. You were ecstatic to move into his place, your tastes merging together in his own. Despite how smooth you thought it would be, one argument turned into multiple until the strain in your relationship was too bad to ignore. You both agreed to break things off but, you weren’t over him quite yet and that hurt.

As you knocked on the door, and paused hearing heavy footsteps on the other side. The door slowly opened revealing Alhaitham’s tall frame. He was wearing his reading glasses and some leisure attire he only wore around the house. His eyes narrowed toward you, yet there wasn’t any animosity in his eyes.

“Come in,” he murmured to your surprise as he opened the door further. Despite your mind screaming to just ask him for the box and leave, you found yourself stepping inside of your old home seeing the colder energy that the place used to not have.

“Do you want something? Water? Coffee?” he offered. You shook your head yes he grunted. Guiding you to the kitchen. He began to pour your drink, placing it on the table before sitting next to you with his own. The two of you sat in silence, sipping your respective drinks. You could only quirk your eyebrow noticing Alhaitham’s gaze lingered briefly on your lips.

You don’t know how it started, or what possessed either of you to indulge in each other but here you were, in the hallway, bruised lips pressing hard on one another as he ground his hardening cock into your core.

His nails dug into your hips grunting in your ear as his lips connected with your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. One hand snaked itself against the waistband of your pants, sliding itself beneath your panties and cupping your cunt. You gasped, nails harpooning themselves against Alhaitham’s broad back as his fingers sank inside of you—thumb lazily fondling your clit.

Your walls quivered as he scissored his fingers, stretching you out as he slowly pumped. You squirmed in his grip as he grunted with annoyance, hand grasping your waist tighter before you whined. He lifted his fingers up—digits coated with your slick—and popped them in his mouth, cleaning them off with his tongue.

He shimmied your pants and underwear down and follow suit, letting his heavy cock slap against his covered abdomen. He lifted your leg up as you call out his name in shock, sliding his cock along your folds to gather up the slick drooling out of you.

“What? Don’t act all shy now,” he whispered in your ear before plunging himself inside of you. You cry out feeling the dull pain of being stretched out as he inched deeper and deeper. Once bottoming out a low moan drifted off his lips feeling your walls pulsate and massage his length.

His hand left your waist, grabbing a handful of your ass with a tight squeeze before he began to thrust. Your body shivered, hearing his noises as if he deliberately wanted you to hear just how you made him.

“Fuck…I missed you, I missed this cunt…but you’re so goddamn stubborn,” he grunted, brushing against the spongy spot inside of you. Your head leaned into the wall, clinging onto him tighter as you tried to widen your shaky legs to get him to hit that spot again and again.

“H-aitham..! Haitham,” you stammered, nails racking his back as he sucked a breath in. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, walls caving down as you finally reached your high struggling to keep your feet up. Alhaitham cursed under his breath closing his eyes as he quickly slide his cock out, pumping himself a few times before groaning—thick white ropes of cum splattering on your lower stomach.

He let your leg down, steading you, as he tried to catch his own breath. You closed your eyes, leaning against his chest.

“I don’t fucking get you sometimes and I don’t think I ever will.”

You loved Thoma. That was the honest truth and you knew he loved you too. The only issue was how much time he spent away. Dates canceling, coming home infrequently—his duty as the Kamisato retainer was straining him. And even when he had the time to attend to his duties as your boyfriend, you could see the bags under his strained eyes, trying his best for you not to see the cracks and desperation of rest he needed.

You loved Thoma. That was the honest truth; therefore, you needed to let him go.

As the words left your mouth, it seemed the world silenced. Thoma sat on the couch, hand covering his mouth as his eyes stared off into space, watering from your declaration. Your heart lurched in your chest.

“Thoma, you know I love you. You can’t prioritize us right now, and that’s okay. I understand what Ayaka and Ayato mean to you and how important it is for you be fully committed to your responsibilities,” you whispered, reaching a hand out to his cheek. He let his hand leave his face, tears beginning to cascade down his now-flushed cheeks.

“Then please…” he whispered. You gently shook your head, wiping the tear away.

“You know I can’t for now…” you whispered back. Just as you were about to get up and let Thoma grieve his love for you in peace, he shot up pressing his lips into your own. Desperation, passion, and longing—those three emotions strongly swirling in that kiss, but yet, you found yourself kissing him back.

As he tightly gripped your waist, the two of your bodies fell onto the bed with a soft thud. Your hands wandered up, lifting Thoma’s shirt off of him, breaking the kiss momentarily before connecting right back again. One by one, articles of clothing fell down leaving you two in the nude, clinging onto each other.

Thoma’s lips trailed down your neck, hand drifting up and brushing against your slit as you shivered. His thumb drifted up, pressing down on your clit, garnering a gasp from you. Slick drooled out of you as he continuously circled and flicked on the bundle of nerves.

Smearing your arousal along your inner thighs, Thoma grabs his half-hardened cock pumping it a few times before lining himself up. His tip slid between your folds, brushing against your clit as he grunts in slight frustration before he finally pressed himself to your opening and sank inside of you.

A breathy moan of your name escapes Thoma’s lips, weaving your hands with his—cock slipping deeper, feeling your walls squeeze and tighten. Lifting his face from the nape of your neck, his nose brushed against yours—green eyes sorrowful as he slowly thrusts. Your legs wrapped around his thin waist gripping his hands tighter as he plunged himself steady and deliberate, hitting every spot he knew would unravel you.

Your back arched, body shivered in pleasure as you finally reached your high. Your walls spasmed and tightened against him as his own release would arrive soon. Shutting his eyes and desperately pressing your lips against yours once more to drown out his moan, Thoma’s hips halted—ropes of his cum spurting inside of you.

Thoma placed his sweaty forehead against yours and closed his eyes. Sliding his cock out of you where his cum was slowly seeping down, his arms wrapped around your form underneath him.

“...Just let me hold you one last time before you go.”

Your eyes kept reading your text message to Scaramouche over and over again. You know you were kind of a dick for breaking up via text because you feared confrontation from your usual grumpy ex-boyfriends, but the fact he left you on read made you nervous. He always had something to say, wanting to have the last word in every argument—so this, was nerve-wracking.

You hear your doorbell echo throughout your apartment as you sighed and walked over to the door, expecting a package only to gasp in horror seeing Scaramouche standing there—arms crossed, glaring at you.

“Through text? Really? Really?!” he yelled out, storming inside your apartment. You sighed and closed the door; you should have known better. As you turn to see him seething you noticed how bloodshot his eyes were, he must have been crying not too long ago.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t know how to break it to you!” you responded. Scaramouche scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“So you think our 3 years can be over through a fucking text!? Are you that much of a coward?! I think I deserved more than a fucking text message!” he shouted. Your eyes drifted away in guilt, crossing your own arms against your chest.

“Fuck! Okay! You’re right. You didn’t deserve that. But, I’m not happy with our relationship! Fucking—.” You took a sigh to compose yourself momentarily. “I don’t feel like you ever give a damn about me so I didn’t think it would be that bad to break up via text.”

Scaramouche remained silent, sucking on his tooth before letting out a low, sarcastic laugh before slowly marching towards you. You felt like a rabbit eyeing the ferocious might of a wolf.

“Don’t care? I don’t care?! Your joking right?! Do you even fathom how much I love you…!” he murmured, close to your face. The two of you glared down at one another waiting for the other one to respond only to gasp as Scaramouche connected his lips with yours and to his surprise, you didn’t push him away and deepened the kiss.

Things quickly found their way to the bedroom as Scaramouche roughly pushed you down on the bed before lifting his shirt off. Just as you were going to do the same, Scaramouche grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“No. Do you even realize you’re wearing my shirt right now? The audacity you have to break up with me while wearing that shit,” he grunted, nipping at your ear before leaning up. He undid the buckle of his jeans and zipped down the zipper, pulling down his jeans and boxers to reveal his twitching cock.

“You don’t get to enjoy my cock like that,” he grunted, gripping his length and pumping it. Scaramouche lifted you slightly up before letting his cock brush between the mounds of your chest. His cock was hot and heavy, tip budding with precum that began to smear across your torso. His hands grabbed your breasts, thumbs brushing against your pebbling nipples before pressing them together, between his cock.

“Hold your tits like this,” he grunted as you obeyed. You gasped feeling your bottoms come off, exposing your wet cunt. Scaramouche clicked his tongue, pressing his thumb against your clit and drawing tight circles on it.

You whined when his hips began to thrust between your breast as he let out a shaky moan. His cock trembled with every thrust as his pace began to get faster. He cursed under his breath, pausing his ministrations on your clit as he shut his eyes to enjoy the soft mounds of your chest.

“Fuck. Shit—” he cursed out. You softly yelped as cum shot out, hitting your chin and bottom lip. Globs of his cums stained his shirt you were wearing as he bit his lip to muffle his whine. As he slowly came from his high, he sighed moving down and nibbling at your inner thighs.

“You don’t fucking deserve this but I’m not cruel enough to leave you on the edge,” he grumbled. Your hands shot to his hair as his lips connected with the bud of your clit, lapping it up roughly and sucking on it. As his tongue swirled and flicked, your legs shook and pressed themselves against Scaramouche’s head.

His eyes were cold seeing you squirm against his mouth before it faltered, as a rush of liquid hit his tongue as you arched your back. He drank as much as he could grabbing your thighs to hold you down before you finally began to calm down from your intense climax.

“Made you squirt for the first time heh,” he laughed to himself. “Too bad it’ll be the last.”

When Childe broke up with you, it hurt your pride and your heart. You didn’t think of yourself as a vindictive person, but when you had the opportunity to temporarily forget about him and how someone practically worshipped you for the night—you didn’t say no.

You didn’t expect to see him at the club, your eyes meeting with shock. Your eyes narrowed to the person he was dancing with, arm around their waist as he ground behind them. Rolling your eyes with a scoff, you walked away from the dancefloor and towards a corner in the back where you could process the situation better.

“Fuck,” you grunted in frustration in debate. You didn’t want to leave but you couldn’t stand seeing that. Just as you were about to decide to try another bar, your ex approached you with a smirk, leaning against the wall.

“Funny seeing you here. Is that D-rank boytoy crawling around,” he teased with a strained smile. You scoffed rolling your eyes and crossing your arms.

“No, but don’t let that stop you from putting your cock inside your stupid fling, I was just leaving,” you grunted. Childe grabbed your wrist, leaning down. That infuriating smirk was still on his lips.

“Aww, come on. Let’s catch up a bit. Don’t you miss me…” he whispered in your ear, causing your body to shiver. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and you were sure your own buzz was messing with your judgment yet, you couldn’t help following into the empty bathroom.

Quickly checking each stall was empty, Childe locked the door and moved the trashcan in front of it. He grabbed your waist, moving you on the empty counter before pressing his clothed hardened cock against your core.

“You see what you do to me….? I think you forgot just how wild we got together,” he murmured, drifting your underwear down your thighs. His fingers grazed along your slit as you whined, moving your hips to try to get him to brush against your throbbing clit. He chuckled watching as his finger slowly dripped with the same slick beginning to drip from you.

Wiping it down his slacks, he quickly freed himself—slapping the tip of his cock against your clit. You moaned as he finally stopped bullying the nub, pressing his cock along your opening before sinking inside of you.

“Fuck, just like how I remember it,” he grunted, sliding deeper and deeper before he finally bottomed out. Sliding out briefly, you choke out feeling him plunge his cock back in hard and fast. His pace was relentless, lewd noises drifting throughout the bathroom.

You closed your eyes as he grabbed your chin. His eyes were much colder than before, smugness replaced by jealousy.

“No. You have to watch everything I’m doing to you. I’m not going to let you forget how well my cock made you writhe so many nights. No one can fuck you as well I can, including that stupid boytoy you decided to fuck,” he grunted, plowing himself inside of you.

You whined out his name, walls fluttered down as he soon changed his angle to find your favorite spot. As he brushed by it deliberately, You clung tighter to him calling out his name repeatedly.

“There! There! There! There!” you rambled out. You squirmed, a breathy moan escaping from your lips as you reached your high. Your spasming walls made it harder for Childe to thrust, pace getting closer and sloppier.

Just as you thought he was about to spill out, Childe quickly left your tight, warm cunt, he rapidly pumped his cock—tip leaning towards your underwear. With a grunt, white globs of his cum shot out filling your once-clean underwear with his essence. He chuckled, quickly pulling them up as you gasp, feeling the warmth of his cum as he pulled his softening cock into his briefs and pulled his pants up to fasten them.

Not paying you much mind, he walked towards the door moving the trashcan and unlocking it before pausing.

“When you get some sense, call me,” he grunted, walking out of the bathroom.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #thoma x reader #thoma smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #childe x reader #childe smut

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luveline · 1 year

Text

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part six | chapter list

summary you’re a not so single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. queue movie night, a good sandwich, a better cry, and the best birthday party ever. [23k]

warnings afab!reader, fem!reader, mom!reader, mention of implied period/menstruation, money worries, unhealthy eating habits (not finding the time), food insecurity, physical/emotional fatigue. fluff heavy, love confessions, emotional hurt/comfort, idiots in love, slight angst.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie's carrying so much stuff he can barely see over the top of it, let alone open your front door. He stands fumbling at the top of the porch steps, hoping you'll hear the sounds of his arrival and come to help.

You must be in your room or the bathroom, as no one comes to save him. Eddie can hear the echo of the TV from the living room, kid's cable or one of Junie's VHS tapes, as well as the pulling sound of the pipes under the trailer. A faucet must be running.

When he finally manages to open the door, he's expecting to see you in the kitchenette with your back to him, humming as you clean the dishes and in your own little world.

You're not there, to his surprise.

Eddie puts all of his things on the kitchen table, takes off his shoes, and goes looking for you. There aren't many rooms to search, only your bedroom and the bathroom. He can hear running water the closer he gets to the bathroom, so he knocks on the door.

"Sweetheart, you in there?"

The tap turns off abruptly. The door opens, and Eddie frowns at the lack of you, finding only empty air. He looks down to find Junie standing there in the gap, short and small and completely soaked.

He can tell immediately what she's been up to, some mischievous playing while you're distracted elsewhere. She has a look on her face like she's both thrilled to see him and sorry to be caught.

Eddie bends down. “Hi, sweetheart. What are you doing?" he asks.

"Cold!" She giggles, wielding her wet palms at him threateningly.

He takes her little hands in his. "Freezing!" he agrees.

Eddie pulls a towel off of the hand towel rail and quickly rubs it up and down her wet arms. She's still in her clothes from daycare, which isn't necessarily unlike you. If she's having a shower tonight, you'll be waiting until after to change her into her clean pyjamas.

He checks his watch with a frown. It's well past bath time.

"Where's mom?" he asks.

"She's sleeping," Junie whispers, bringing a finger to her lips. "Shh."

Ah. That makes sense. He hangs the towel back on the rail and takes one of Junie's still-cold hands in his, walking her to your bedroom, where the door is closed. You wouldn't have closed it, not while June was in another room.

Eddie squeezes her hand fondly. She's becoming quite the deviant. He wonders if it's his fault.

He opens the door and sighs when he sees you, feeling sorry for his girl, all curled in on yourself sitting on the bedroom floor with a pile of unfolded laundry in your lap. He can imagine the ache brewing in your back, worse than the usual and persistent twinge you've mentioned between your shoulder blades.

Eddie kneels down beside you. Junie follows suit without instruction. Even her socks are wet, her soggy heel cold against his thigh.

"Y/N," he says softly, easing his hand under your chin.

He hooks his fingers behind your ear and lifts your heavy head, leaning forward to straighten you up. You rouse with a frown.

"What time is it?" you ask after a moment. Your voice barely comes out.

"Nearly seven. Are you feeling okay?" he asks, pushing your shoulders against the bed behind you for support, his hand falling to the juncture of your neck. Your skin is clammy. Your brow twists. "You coming down with something again?"

"Just tired," you mumble.

You close your eyes and cover them with one hand.

There's something to be said about it, how that, a few months ago, you would've sprung up to finish what you were doing, explaining to him in rushed tones that you don't usually fall asleep like that, you would never leave Junie unattended: he knows already. You're a parent, not a superhero (though sometimes he thinks you're both) —you aren't infallible. You get tired, and you try your best. Eddie wouldn't ever think that you don't. He certainly wouldn't think you're a bad parent for falling asleep sitting up in the middle of a chore, and you know that now. You know you can sit there and gather your bearings without explanation. That he'll look after you and Junie whenever you need him to.

A little shimmer of pride brims at the realisation.

He rubs your throat with his thumb before sitting back. Junie climbs into his lap and leans her soaking front into his chest, cold enough that Eddie quickly covers her with his arms in an attempt to warm her.

"What have you been up to?" he asks her.

She hums, pleased, and babbles about the water. "It dwas… it was cold and fast," she emphasises.

"You're not supposed to be in the bathroom without mommy."

"She's sleeping," Junie says quizzically. Like the rules don't apply when you're not awake to uphold them.

"I'm not sleeping," you say.

"You're still not supposed to be in there without me or mom," Eddie says, giving her a playful glare. "Now you're all wet."

Junie buries her face in his neck, hiding from his mild scolding and possibly trying to soak up some of his warmth. You rub your eyes.

You're in your work uniform with dishevelled hair, but you look cute anyhow.

Eddie pats Junie's back, unperturbed by her damp clothes. She's warming up the longer she sits there.

He supposes her willingness to simply sit and be cuddled is a conditioning of your unending affection. You're always praising and kissing and stroking her hair out of her face, always carrying her around when she could easily walk. You're ridiculously touchy, like a sponge for love. You want it just as often as you give it. He and Junie are both happy to humour you.

Eddie takes the initiative. He gives June a toss to the middle of your made bed and smiles when she giggles, grabbing a change of clothes for her from the wardrobe, and then a change of clothes for you. He's almost completely familiar with your wardrobe these days, having made multiple adoring contributions to it. Selfishly, maybe, he grabs a shirt he knows he got you, as well as a newer pair of pyjama pants.

You still haven't managed to stand when he finishes, but you've turned to see Junie, making kissy faces at her as you tickle the sole of her foot.

"My girl's all wet," you're saying, not a lick of tiredness in your voice. You hide it from her easily. "What trouble have you been up to while mommy slacked off, huh? You're soooo bad, I'm gonna have to lock you up."

Junie giggles thickly as she crawls toward you. You can't reach her foot when she turns but you aren't bothered, tickling her arms and sides instead. You and Junie stay like that for a second, eye to eye, Junie on her front and you hiding your mouth in the sheets like a cowboy shootout, waiting for someone to give in.

Junie shrieks with laughter and you sit up in time to stop her from headbutting you, gathering her up into your arms to kiss her forehead.

"Sorry," you say, to Eddie's displeasure. "Mommy's silly, huh, falling asleep when you're still awake?"

"She's human," he corrects lightly.

"Baby," you say, like you're going to say more. You don't, you just smile at him.

"Do you want me to have her? You can shower by yourself, have some 'me-time'?"

"No… she needs a bath. Don't you?" you ask her.

"Do you want me to–"

"Eddie," you say, struggling to stand with Junie in your arms, "I don't want anything. Except…"

He bounds the two steps it takes to get his arms around you both and plants a huge kiss on your cheek. You visibly relax, better when he presses a much softer one against the corner of your mouth.

"Except a kiss?" he asks into your skin.

You sound flustered, "Except a kiss. Another one. Please."

He pulls back enough for you to turn into his kiss and align your lips properly for a chaste peck.

"Hello," he says.

"Hi, baby," you say, shy even now.

"Hi." He steals another kiss. Junie makes a noise of offence and he dots one on her appled cheek. Her lips perk into a smile. "Girls. Let's get our movie night back on track. I brought presents."

You groan and Junie cheers. Finally getting to grips with certain words even if she hasn't said them aloud yet, Junie is well aware as to what presents are. She gets enough of them (to your chagrin).

"What did I say? Presents are for special occasions," you say mildly.

"Movie night is–"

"Not a special occasion."

"Kind of is. Especially if we make it a tradition. If you really don't want them then I'll take them back," he says. He really means it, no guilt trip involved.

You look down at Junie, back up at him, and puff out a theatrical breath.

"Sorry, I've made it hard to say no," he says.

"Don't be sorry. Thank you for the presents, really. We'll look after a shower, okay?" you ask, darting up to give him a quick kiss and then nudging him aside.

"I'll make dinner real quick while you shower and you can open your presents after that." He catches your sleeve. "Deal?"

"Deal."

Another round of kisses are exchanged. Kisses like a first love, excited and quick and wanting a little bit more each time.

You leave for the bathroom to set up Junie's fold out baby bath in the shower and fill it with water. He smiles on his way back down the slim hall to the kitchen at the sound of her laughter, hidden beneath the hurried rain of the shower head.

Eddie makes two cans of vegetable soup with pasta shapes in a saucepan on the stove, cooking it through and letting it simmer while he waits for you.

The bathroom door opens. He gives it a minute before pouring the soup into bowls, knowing it'll take you a while to powder and lotion you and your baby, especially when getting her into jammies lately has been like clothing an eel.

A few minutes later, Junie comes sprinting down the hall quick as a lightning bolt, barefoot to stop from crashing face first into a cabinet. You have no clue why, but lately she's extremely energetic. You've done some more baby-proofing around the house to avoid injury, moving tables completely out of her way and sticky taping your rug in the living room flat to the floor so she can't slip over it at speed, but nothing works as well as bare feet for good grip. Not even dragon themed grippy socks, Eddie laments. They looked so cool.

He pours soup into three bowls and adds a splash of cold water from the faucet to Junie's, giving it a good stir and dipping the tip of a clean pinky finger in it to check it's not hot.

"Hi, trouble," he greets, following her into the living room with her bowl. "You want some dinner?"

He doesn't give her much chance to answer, grabbing her up in his free arm with a heaving groan and carrying her like a curled weight to the sofa. She's giggly to a fault, happy to be shuttled from one place to another if there's a kiss or some food promised at the end.

He sets her down, puts the bowl on his thigh, and pulls out the bib he'd tucked into his pocket to secure it nice and loose around her neck. He's careful not to get any of her hair in the velcro.

"Tada!" he says. "Let's get eating."

Junie's amazing. Eddie lifts a spoon and her lips part expectantly. He could let her eat by herself, she's old enough and she's getting much better with a spoon, but he wants to avoid the mess and get her fed quickly. She's eaten every last morsel by the time you emerge. He's more pleased than he started, because you trust him to do this while you get dressed without rushing, and you'll allow yourself the luxury of ten minutes alone.

Your footsteps sound across the kitchen. You turn into the living room, your face tacky with something, and even from the middle of the room Eddie can smell your deodorant and moisturisers, maybe even the lingering scent of conditioner on your hands.

"My poor baby was so hungry," you say upon seeing Junie's empty bowl. You kiss the top of her head. "Sorry, Junie. Good thing Eddie's here to take such good care of you, hmm?" You kiss her cheek. You lean over her head and kiss Eddie's. He's about to start running a temperature, you're so affectionate tonight. "Thank you."

"Don't," he says gently.

You straighten up. Like you've been caught in a trap, you stop suddenly and peer down at him, hiding your smile with a pout. He's already seen it, but he lets you get away with it.

"Your bangs are growing long again," you say, brushing them away from his forehead.

You comb down the lengths of his curls with your fingers, partitioning the tangles with care.

"Maybe you can trim 'em for me tomorrow," he says.

Your eyes light up. "Yeah, for sure."

"Good. Our soup is getting cold."

"Oh, gotcha. I'll warm it up. You want more, junebug? More soup?"

Junie doesn't answer, distracted by the TV. She's stopped bothering to support herself, her weight splayed over Eddie's thigh, her soup-stained cheek dangerously close to his pants. He has to admit that since knowing you a lot of his clothes have been stained irredeemably. He doesn't worry about the sweatpants, though. It's only soup.

Eddie thumbs hair out of her face and smiles.

"She could probably eat more."

You know it already, but he says it because it feels nice to say. Plus, you like it. You'd told him so, a whispered admission sometime last week.

I like that someone else worries about her, you'd said, your lips soft on his naked bicep, your face hidden by the lack of light and a few of his rogue curls. I like that you take some of the load. I'm sorry if that's not fair.

Baby, he'd said, voice gritty with how much he meant it, it's not unfair. I'm happy to do it. And I know you're not expecting it from me.

No, you'd said quickly.

I know. He'd kissed the top of your head, laughed against your skin, his breath fanning every which way. Don't think about it like that, like it's costing me something.

I'm not saying it costs anything. I know it does, even if you don't feel it. And I'm not saying she isn't easy to love 'cos she is, but loving someone and taking care of them are different, and I know you want to do it–

Eddie had cut you off, sitting up enough that you'd been forced to take your weight off of his shoulder where you'd been laying down across the well-loved couch. He'd felt a familiar spring under his thigh as he shifted, the TV painting your face in a milky white that had your eyes shining like gemstone.

I do want to do it, he'd affirmed. You guys– you're my girls. Eddie could've told you he loved you right then and there. He's sure you already knew. Why are you worrying about this stuff?

Have to worry about something. These days my options are slim pickings, thanks to you.

He'd pulled you in for a hug, trying to squeeze the misplaced gratitude out of you uselessly. He's happy you're happy, happy you feel like he's draining your impossible levy, but he doesn't want you thinking you owe him anything. That's not why he's with you.

You trek back into the kitchen with Junie's empty bowl and spoon, your pyjama pants slightly too long for you and dragging across the floor. You hadn't been with him when he bought them —he eyeballed. They fit around your waist and thighs just fine, but both of the pairs he got that day are too long.

Eddie wipes Junie's face with the end of her bib and reluctantly hands her over when you return, reheated soup in hand. You swap him for his own bowl and feed Junie whatever she wants from yours, blowing on each spoonful as you go.

"How was work today, sugarpea?" he asks between bites of pasta.

"No," you say immediately.

"Not a sugarpea fan?"

"Not when you say it like that," you tease.

"What about sweetcheeks?" He grins at your grim expression. "It's not that different to sweetheart, 'n' you like that one."

You glance at him over Junie's head. "I think I'm used to sweetheart. You say it enough. Sweetcheeks is like a foreign object my brain is rejecting on the grounds that it is super duper weird." You smile as you talk and your voice takes shape through it, all smooth and silky and warm.

"Honeybuns?" he tries, nearly choking on a pasta shape when you laugh. He can't help himself; whenever you laugh he instinctively wants to join in.

"Work was fine," you say, stealing a big spoonful of soup. Junie huffs. "It was good, really, I got an amazing tip from Bernard, you know Bernard?"

"Bernard," he repeats menacingly.

"Your competition. He gave me twenty dollars 'n' told me to put it in the Junie jar, so that was awesome. Now my little lady's gonna get some new shoes."

You don't like handouts you haven't worked for. It's why his gifts can be hard to accept, as much as you appreciate them. Eddie insisted months ago that being friends was 'doing things for other people', and letting people do things for you —as in, letting him buy you small presents is actually a service to him and a credit to you.

You don't necessarily like it. You like presents, most people do, but you don't like his spending money on you because of some ill-conceived notion that you can't deserve them. It's why Eddie doesn't go out and spend his wages on the things that you want willy-nilly. It would embarrass you, put you out, and that's the last thing he wants. So while he's in a place where he's fortunate enough to have disposable income, and he doesn't think twice about spending it on the people he loves, he does think about how it makes you feel.

But boyfriend privileges are very real. The step up he took from a friend who's suspiciously affectionate to an actual proper boyfriend is large and luxurious —he gets away with doing a lot more than he could beforehand. Eddie can put gas in your car, pay for breakfast, bring by a gallon of laundry detergent when you're running low without a word of protest. It's little things, and they mean a lot to him.

He thinks they might mean a lot to you, too.

So he would buy Junie new shoes if she needed them, but she doesn't. If she did, you would've got them already. You want her to have new shoes, and you're saving up for a nice fancy pair that she'll grow out of within the year. You should take pride in that. There's nothing so sweet as treating your daughter.

"How come I can't contribute to the Junie jar?" he asks in a playful whine.

"Don't start with me, Munson. You tipped me ten dollars for a coffee yesterday, don't think I didn't notice. And the coffee was for me," you say, smiling still.

He grins down at his soup and kicks his socked foot against yours.

"That wasn't me," he lies. With no effort involved, the end result is lackluster.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't Davey," you say.

Davey's a grumpy regular. He never tips.

"It could've been. Maybe he had a change of heart. And, biassed as I may be, you are a very pretty waitress. I'd tip you if I was allowed," he flirts.

You turn the spoon in your hand so the well is toward your chest and pretend to load it at him like a trebuchet.

He wimps out, "June, mom's attacking me! Mommy's trying to get soup on me!"

"Am not!" you protest.

The damage is already done. Junie, her face a mirror of your own but smaller and with eyes a little bigger in their framing, glares at you and tries to take your spoon, babbling an outraged, "No no no!"

You make a funny squeaking sound and drop the spoon back in the bowl, your lips parted in mock shock.

"You don't really believe him, do you?" you ask, your bubbly talk saccharine. "Baby, I'm just playing."

She's your number one fan. The sound of your voice would win back her affections by itself, but your lovely smile, your hand behind her back, it's instantaneous. Junie forgets all about the imminent danger he's in and puts her hand on your chin. You close your eyes.

"Mommy, can we have kisses?" she asks.

"How many?" you ask, delighted. It's rhetorical. Eddie finishes his soup and you kiss her cheeks so many times he reckons you'll have dry lips, humming, "Mwah, mwah, mwah," as you go.

He'll make you something else tonight to make up for how little soup you've had. It's not a substantial meal either way, and he knows Benny feeds you well at work, but it's been a long time since lunch rush.

Junie wiggles out of your grip and drops to the floor, clearly having had enough kisses.

Eddie doesn't see what she's doing from the kitchenette where he's carried all the dirty dishes, but he listens intently to her babble talk, new words popping up in her chatter every day. She says, "Mr. Bear," and "pretty," and "let's go!" between gibberish.

"Oh, hey!" Eddie calls to be heard over the running water of the sink and the TV.

He can see your head through a gap between the counter and the cabinets attached to the ceiling. You turn at his voice, arms across the back of the sofa, chin resting on your hands. "Yeah?"

"She said, 'fast'!" he tells you. "When I grabbed her from the bathroom, she said the water was cold and fast. That's a new one."

"The bathroom. I need a lock. Do you have anything?"

"Do I have a lock? Maybe."

You nod hurriedly, eyebrows pinched in stress . "It's an accident waiting to happen. I had no idea she could reach that handle, I don't want her in there when I can't see her."

"Don't worry, we'll nab one of those child locks from the store tomorrow if it bothers you."

You're quiet for a moment. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep."

"You couldn't help it," He puts a dish down on the rack. "It's not a crime to nod off, I do it all the time. It was an accident."

"It doesn't matter. She can't be alone with water, it's dangerous."

"You said it yourself, you had no idea she could even get in there. Now you know, you'll make sure it doesn't happen again." He turns off the faucet, trying to snub your self-annoyance before it twists into something cruel. "Yeah?"

You hum.

He wipes his hands dry on a rag and slides around the kitchen counters, back into your living room. Your eyes flash wide as he approaches. You know what he's gonna do, tucking your arms away as he drops into your lap. "Woah," you groan.

"You're a good mom," he says seriously, shuffling back so his weight is on a couch cushion rather than your tired thighs. "I mean it, you're a good mom. You fell asleep. It happens, okay? Don't punish yourself for something that didn't happen. We can jam the door closed with a sock or something tonight, and I promise you she won't get in there again."

You bunch one of his legs in your lap to rest your mouth against his knee. He holds himself up with one arm, watching you relax with relief.

"She said 'fast'?" you ask, turning your face so your cheek is on his knee instead. Her building vocabulary excites you endlessly. You've been practicing descriptors.

"She said that the water was cold and fast," he says. She would know, she made your floor into a slip and slide.

"She's a genius." You rub your cheek against his pants. "I knew it."

He flops back into the couch cushions, arms behind his head. "Yeh. You can't help yourself, can you? Making that girl cooler every day."

You pinch his thigh. "Lay off."

He's serious and joking at the same time. It's a very cheesy thing to say and it isn't untrue. It's the juxtaposition of every parent, he supposes, the insurmountable task they perform on such a grand scale. It looks impossible, and yet people have been managing it for thousands of years anyways. At varying levels of success, sure.

He hasn't lied to you once. You're a good mom and you're raising a sweetheart, and while neither one of you could care less about Junie being an actual 'genius', singing her praises is a pass time you love.

He isn't tired enough to fall asleep sitting up, yet slouched down as he is with your hands on his legs stroking slow lines feels like a blanket has been thrown over him, fresh from the dryer. Speaking of…

"Can I give you the gifts now? I promise they're not too much," he says.

"Can I tell you something first?" He nods. You hug his knee to your chest and look him straight in the face, unabashed. "You have a really nice voice, Eddie. Listening to you talk, I don't know. You could read me the yellow pages and I think I'd like it."

"Wait, are you flirting with me?" he asks, making a show of sitting up slowly.

"It's nice and deep. Not too much, but it is. And you say things in such a particular way sometimes, it makes me want to smile even when I've had a garbage day." You stroke down his thigh with a fingertip. "Everything about you is nice, but I wanted to tell you."

"Thank you," he says warmly. "I'm glad you think so. 'Cos when I'm around you, all I want to do is talk. And I mean that in the best way." Eddie sits up, bending at the waist so he can kiss your cheek. He doesn't move away immediately, pressing the bridge of his nose flat to your skin as he continues, "I want to hug you really badly right now, like, a make-your-spine-click kind of hug. Think I can do that?"

"Yes, please, it's not even hurting. You can hug me as much as you want."

Eddie shuffles forward on the couch to be near you, his cheek smushed against your ear as he wraps his arms around you in a hug. He goes over your shoulders. Even if it isn't hurting today he doesn't want to inspire any backache, and you return his hugging eagerly.

You smell like your favourite lotion. He breathes it in.

"You're sniffing me," you murmur.

"You smell nice," he murmurs back.

"You smell nice, too."

"I smell like sweat."

"A little."

He encourages your face into the crook of his neck, beaming. "You're so weird," he dotes.

"Sorry," you say, rather shyly.

You're not shy because he said you're weird —he says that stuff all the time and when he means it, it's adoring— you're sorry because you're genuinely embarrassed that you like how he smells, sweat included. He wants to kiss you forever.

"Don't you dare be sorry. It's my irresistible musk."

"Ew," you say, "ew, ew, ew. Musk is a gross word."

"Yeah?" he asks, giving your cheek a quick stroke with the side of his knuckle.

"Yes. Definitely banned around my daughter."

He snorts. "Like it's a curse word."

You run your hands in sync up and down his side, his t-shirt hiking up with each swipe. Your eyes have softened and renewed you, your earlier fatigue a memory without evidence. The fine wrinkles at the corners of your eyes smooth away.

"I'm so happy," you whisper.

He takes your elbows into his hands, thumbs rubbing at the crooks fondly. "Me too."

Your hands fall to his waist. Eddie's never been more content; he's so grateful to feel as he does, whole at your side, affectionate and aflame and in love with your every attribute. Your timid admission, your knowing smile.

"Can I give you your present now?" he asks.

You lean back into the couch, mumbling, "Oh, if you must," with a pleased smile.

"I must, my lady. It's imperative that you and your charge receive the most splendiferous of gifts in haste."

"Then so be it, my liege."

He's morphing you into a nerd one corny joke at a time.

Eddie stands up. His movement grabs Junie's attention from her toys and make-believe, the small girl climbing to her feet. She hops toward him, hands out in expectancy to be picked up.

"Two seconds, June, let me get your present first."

His bags are exactly where he left them on the kitchen table. He rummages through them to make sure he's presenting the right gift to the right girl, before yanking the present from the bag it came in and putting it out of Junie's reach.

"Here," he says, sliding his hand under the gift's cardboard fastening and ripping it open.

The blanket he's bought for her, big, gorgeously soft and made up of pastel pinks and oranges, puffs out and reaches the floor. Junie strokes it.

"It's so soft!" he encourages. "Isn't it soft, sweetheart? This is going to keep you nice and cozy tonight for our movie. Do you want me to wrap you up?"

He drapes it around her shoulders. Little kids are temperamental even if they aren't bad-spirited, and chances are that she doesn't even want it on her, but she smiles as he wraps it around her and lets out a happy line of sounds.

"Do you like that?" he asks, beaming.

She drops her cheek to her shoulder and rubs it, her eyes slipping closed in happiness.

"Eddie," she says sweetly, "it's soft." She says 'soft' clumsily, with lots of weight on the 'oft'.

Her adorableness often sucker punches him. He kind of assumed he'd felt everything there was to feel, but there's a particular kind of awe that comes with watching her grow, and experiencing nice things. She's endearingly enticed by the material, putting her hand under the blanket so she can pull it to her face and feel it against her nose. He can't see more than the corner of her mouth, but he can tell from the way her cheek apples that she's smiling at hum.

"I'm glad you like it, junebug."

"Will you tell him thank you?" you ask, hand on the wall, looking down at her with a similar fondness as he is. "Say, 'thank you, Eddie'."

Junie has a different plan. She pulls as much of the blanket as she can to her chest and waddles toward him, where she leans her face into his legs. Eddie covers the short breadth of her shoulders with one hand.

"Thank you," Junie says.

"Of course, sweetheart. You're very welcome. I'm so happy, you look really comfy. Now we can watch movies in style."

He turns to his second bag and yanks out another blanket, this one a solid dark grey. He doesn't know if he should, but he does the same as he'd done for Junie, tearing the cardboard fastening off of the blanket and shaking it out, before beckoning you forward and wrapping it around your shoulders. You smile, and you look like you could cry, not that you will but you could, your lips pressed together and your eyebrows gently furrowed.

He takes your face into both hands.

"That's an acceptable present?" he asks.

You turn your head, your lips pressed to the base of his thumb. He strokes the top of your cheek, the skin there smooth and dewy, fresh from the shower.

"Do you want a kiss?" he asks knowingly.

You fluster at being read that easily, "No, I… yeah, I do, I do, don't be smug, please…"

"I'm not smug, I wanna kiss you just as bad as you want me to, I'd crawl into your skin if I could–"

Your laugh is a shock, your chest shaking where it touches his, and he can't take it anymore. He kisses your smile, his lips clumsy and too eager, a total mismatch as you giggle into his touch.

He gives your cheek a good rub with his thumb.

"Thank you," you say.

He shakes his head. "Don't mention it."

"This is nice. Did you get one for yourself?"

He did. "I'd love to say I got one for myself 'cos I thought you'd accept it easier, but I wanted one. They're so soft."

"So soft," Junie says, slipping on the ends of her blanket as she wobbles toward your embrace. "Up?"

—

While the blankets that Eddie's brought for you are, in fact, so soft, they're much too warm when the three of you are laying on top of one another. Eddie's like a superheater to your left, Junie's a hot water bottle on your chest, and your hair is damp with sweat.

You wipe your face with your sleeve and sit up on the couch, hand behind Junie's dozing back.

"You okay?" Eddie asks, pulling his attention from the movie.

"Too hot."

"Pass me the baby." He says 'baby' dramatically, like she's one of the rings from his books, or the prodigal child.

You hand her over. She mumbles something but settles, her nose jabbed into Eddie's clavicle. He pats her back.

You shrug off the blanket and pull the collar of your shirt away from your neck, fanning yourself lightly. When you're feeling less like you're cooking you stand up, squinting in the dark. Now you've moved the table to the side of the room you don't have to worry about catching your calf on a corner, but it's still a death trap in here when you haven't put away the toys.

"Do you want another drink?" you ask.

"Please. Coke if there's any left," Eddie says.

You walk to the kitchen on tired legs to make two drinks. You hadn't wanted to think about it but you're really hungry, your stomach hurting with it. You open the fridge for the bottle of coke and cast your eyes over the contents. There's more fresh food than you're used to having, but tired as you are, you can't think of anything to make. Something quiet and easy for the late hour would be nice.

You hear as Eddie follows you in. You look over your shoulder to see if he's brought Junie with him. He's alone.

"You didn't eat much," he says.

"I know, that's what I'm looking for."

"I," he says, melodic, his elbow up as he scratches behind his neck, "will make you whatever you want."

"Really?" you ask.

"Sure. Or I could go get you something?"

"I don't want you driving alone at night," you say.

"It's not dangerous."

"No, I know, but I don't want you to leave."

"Good. Me neither." He joins you in front of the fridge. "I could make you a huge sandwich," he says. "I got some of the fancy cheese at my place."

"I'm not eating Wayne's cheese."

"I paid for it," he insists. "No, look, you have cheddar, pepperjack, we don't need fancy cheese. Let me make you a sandwich."

You slip your hand behind his back and squeeze.

Eddie kind of grabs you, all jokes, and pushes you down into a chair like he thinks you're trying to run away. "Stay there, fiend," he demands.

He makes you a sandwich. It's a simple pleasure to watch. He washes his hands, grabs all the fillings, and makes it carefully. It's too much care to be put into a sandwich. It makes your chest ache.

He browns it in the frying pan and presents it to you with little fanfare. Odd, for him.

"What, no, ta-da? No kiss?" you ask.

"I was trying to keep it classy," he says, bending down to kiss the skin shy of the corner of your eye. "Now eat, please. I worry about you."

He doesn't need to ask. He likely couldn't stop you. You're glad he's already your boyfriend, otherwise the speed with which you take your first bite might have put him off.

"Do you want half?" you ask.

"No, you eat that whole thing."

He puts your glass right next to you on the table. There's something unsaid in his gaze, not judgement but close.

"I've been busy," you defend.

"How much did you even eat today? You had breakfast, right?"

You nod, taking a sip of your drink, and size him up. "Munson."

"Did you, sweetheart? Honestly?"

"I did! Eddie, please don't worry," you say, pushing him toward the open chair rather than let him crowd you. "You know I'm eating properly, you feed me ten times a week."

Eddie sits, propping his foot up on the chair by your thigh, and stretches his arms across the table toward you. He flicks your elbow.

"I don't like thinking about you going hungry," he says.

"Then it's a good thing I'm not." You take a showy bite of sandwich.

"Promise?" he asks.

"Yes!" You pat his shin. "Promise promise. It was a busy day, but I had oatmeal and Benny made me a fancy salad, and now this. I'm all fed, thanks to other people. I'm lucky like that."

"You're not lucky. People want to take care of you because you take such good care of them," he says. You like how he says it, like it's no big deal.

"I just wish you'd take good care of yourself," he finishes, digging his heel into your thigh.

You squirm away from his attack, ditching the last couple of bites of your sandwich in favour of the paper towel he'd brought with your plate to wipe your fingers and mouth.

Clean, you get up from your chair before you can stop yourself and sit on one of his thighs, careful not to rest your full weight there.

"You're being dramatic," you say as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, nose close to his and getting closer. "I love that you worry about me, but you don't need to. Think of all the energy you're wasting on me that could be spent on your music, or your games."

Eddie pulls you into his lap properly.

"It's one game," he says, hooking you against him so you can't slide off of his legs. "Fine. I won't worry about you so much if you finish your sandwich. Cool?"

"Don't let me fall," you mumble, stretching back in his arms to grab your plate.

You slide it across the table, pick up the last quarter of your sandwich, and eat it there in his arms. He looks ridiculously happy to watch.

The night passes like that. No matter where you go it's in his arms. He calls you his barnacle and you like him so much you let it slide. You only part to carry Junie to bed, sliding her into her toddler bed with all the precision of a professional.

Eddie gets his hands on you soon after, pressing your back to his front as you brush your teeth half-asleep in the mirror opposite, his minty kisses pressed generously to the side of your head.

You don't remember getting into bed. When you wake up, it's to the sounds and smells of French toast, or Eddie's approximate version, a spatula scraping against the sides of your frying pan and Eddie singing a children's song. You scrunch your eyes together and groan as you turn into the sheets, hiding your head under the pillow from the noise. You love them, you're tired —maybe in half an hour you'll want to join in.

You're not sure how much time passes when you wake a second time. Rings slide across the curtain pole, quiet footsteps smushed into the carpet. You turn onto your side and pry your eyes open, lashes barely parted. A bleary slice of Eddie's back takes centre stage.

He shakes out Junie's blankets and tucks them in. He plumps up her pillow. Gentle, he rights her fallen teddies and sits them up one by one like proper gentlemen. His expression is handsome but blank.

Squared, Eddie moves away from Junie's bed to your forgotten pile of laundry. You'd fallen asleep folding it, and the unfolded stuff will no doubt be full of creases. He gathers everything into your laundry basket and heads for the door, not having looked your way once. You smile to yourself and close your eyes again, totally at ease.

The door creaks. You haven't managed to open your eyes when a hand is on your shoulder and pressing you into the mattress gently. Eddie kisses your forehead, before dipping down to rest his own against it, sealing in the kiss. He laughs under his breath.

"This is nice," you say, lips like glue, voice an incoherent mumbling.

"I thought you were awake," he says.

"I'm not."

He rubs your shoulder, a long and loving sweep. "Stay in bed as long as you want to. Me and June are gonna go outside and try soccer."

You groan and throw your arms around him tiredly, "No," you say, "you better help me up so I can change her diaper."

Eddie helps you sit up. You blink blink blink, and rub your eyes, and when you can see again you stand up. He follows you into the hall. You don't question it when he starts to clean you up from behind, stroking your hair and pulling your pyjama pants back up the hip they'd been falling down.

"I feel like I've been run over," you tell him.

You feel heaps better when you see the main section of the trailer.

The kitchen is clean. Sparkling. The living room is the same when you peer around to find Junie. She's standing on the couch, Eddie clearly having brushed her hair, the mess of the night before nowhere to be seen. He's taken care of everything while you slept.

You about to turn around and collapse on him in a hug, but Junie sees you and starts talking, taking big bounding steps across the couch cushions until she's at the end of the one closest to you. You step forward to greet her.

"Hellooo, lovely girl," you say, dragging her up the length of your chest to meet her eyes. "Eddie says you're gonna play soccer outside. Do you think that sounds fun?"

"I want mommy," she murmurs.

"I'm right here," you say. She pouts. "What, you want me to come and play soccer?" you ask. "I'll play soccer, baby, just let me get you changed first."

She isn't happy, but she perks up when she's clean again, double when you squeeze her into a dress and tell her how nice she looks.

"Eddie did your hair already, so there's nothing left for me to do," you say sweetly, brushing your hands down the length of her skirt. "You're all ready!"

Junie is less ready for soccer than you thought. Eddie runs down to his home to get a ball and you, having changed and eaten, sit down outside in the growing grass surrounding your trailer on a towel. The sun shines, the sky is a beautiful ocean blue, and Junie does not want to get up from your lap.

You're content to let her sunbathe, applying sun cream to her face, neck, arms and legs just in case and which she abhors, wriggling and whining as you coo at her. She calms as you rub it in.

"You'll thank me one day," you say with a small laugh.

Junie goes quiet. It's not like her, she's a babbler, but you sit in it with her rather than talk for a moment.

She looks like you.

She's happy, and loved. So much has changed since you moved here. She was always loved unconditionally, and nearly always happy, but she's growing. You both are.

You thought moving here would be good for her, but you never stopped to think it might be good for you too. Eddie terrifies you, or rather the idea of losing him does. You have these moments where you think about him and plot the possibilities, that one day you'll be waiting for him to come calling and he won't, or one day Junie will ask you where he is and you'll have nothing good to say. It's a catastrophisation if you've ever had one —you trust Eddie, you've let him into almost every aspect of your life. It goes without saying that you trust him not to hurt you.

But trusting him doesn't mean you can stop yourself from worrying about the future. You told him already, maybe it's being a mom or something, that your brain chooses a new thing to needle at every day, and you roll with it the best that you can.

Junie smiles at you.

"Mom… so pretty," she says. You stop short.

She does this sometimes. You've taught her a lump sum of conversational tidbits from everyday life. Like, "Don't touch, baby," often referring to something hot, or, "Wow! Look at you!" when she's in new clothes. Every time she says one back to you it makes you laugh, but this one hits you like a freight train, right in the heart.

"You think I'm pretty?" you ask.

You don't know if Junie even knows what pretty is. You say it to her so often, it might feel like a strand of "I love you," or even, "Good morning." Maybe she doesn't get it.

She sits up in your lap and reaches up for your face with both hands. You bend to let her.

"Pretty," she says again. She squeezes your cheek.

Maybe she doesn't understand. Or maybe she does. Yeah, she does. Your baby thinks you're pretty. You pour love into her unfailingly and she's giving you some of her own.

"You really think that?" you ask, smiling in her little palms. "Gorgeous girl, I love you. I love you love you."

"I love you," she says back.

"You do?" you ask, delighted and selfish because of course she loves you. You wanna hear it again.

"Yes." She drags the 's' sound, her eyes crinkled up. "Mommy," she says.

"Yeah?"

Her hands fall back onto her chest, and she sags against your thigh. "Mom?"

"What, baby? You want something? You want some juice?" She doesn't respond. "You want something yummy to eat?"

She says a string of words you don't understand. Not a lick of sense start to end. You sigh, duck your lips to her neck, and blow the biggest raspberry that you can. At the same time, you press your fingers into her underarms, tickling down her sides. You laugh at her sudden shrieking and blow another raspberry, and another one, struggling to draw breath as her giggles infect you completely.

"I got you," you tease.

"No, mommy!" she squeals, sounding more pleased than her pleas might suggest.

"I do, I have you!"

"It tickles a lot!"

"I have to tickle you, it's part of my job."

"Mommy," she says, almost breathless. You ease up. You don't want to wear her out.

"Mwah," you say, giving her a sorry kiss.

She laughs again. You think she might attempt another sentence —you can practically see the cogs of her brain turning behind her eyes— but she's cut off by a familiar voice.

"Girls! Y/N!" Eddie hollers. "They're having way too much fun without me."

You look up at his call, frowning at his odd phrasing, and are immediately startled to see he isn't by himself.

At one side of him stands a pale girl with brown hair cropped to her chin, in a mock biker jacket despite the heat carrying the promised soccer ball Eddie left to retrieve. A half step behind her is a taller guy with dark blonde hair, a smile on his face. You meet his eyes accidentally, forcing yourself to smile despite your confusion so he doesn't get the wrong idea.

They must be Eddie's friends. You've met Gareth, from his old band, and Melanie, one of the cooks from The Hideout, but you haven't met these guys.

"Y/N, sweetheart," he says, rather proudly, if you do say so yourself, "these losers caught me at home. Robin," —he points at the girl, who smiles with all her teeth— "my very good friend, and Steve, her leech."

"Hi," Steve says first, surprising you again. "And that's Junie?"

"That's Junie," Eddie says, again so proudly.

"Hi Junie," Steve says. He's smiling at you, sure, but he's beaming at your baby. "Holy– she's bigger than I thought, I kind of pictured a baby baby, you know?"

"I showed you a picture, man," Eddie says.

"She didn't look this old in the picture," Steve says. He looks heistant for a second. "Can we sit down?"

"Yeah– yes, yeah, please. Can I get you guys something to drink?" you say, sitting up too quick and almost tipping Junie out of your lap. She says, "Woah!" in her little voice and Steve, Robin and Eddie all laugh.

"I'll get drinks, don't worry," Eddie says.

He walks around your towel to head up the trailer steps. Steve sits on the grass by your towel, and Robin kneels with the ball in her hands opposite. Neither is dressed for the sunny weather but they don't seem to mind.

"It's nice to meet you," Steve says, giving Robin a weighted look.

"We've been asking," Robin says.

"I didn't know," you say apologetically.

"No, we know, you're like Munson's best kept secret half the time. One minute he's showing us your picture all smug but when we ask about you he just rolls his eyes."

"'Wouldn't you like to know,'" Robin quotes with a smarmy smile.

"So he doesn't talk about me?" you ask.

"He doesn't shut up," Steve says. "Sorry, we're kind of kidding."

"Oh–" Junie wriggles in your arms. Her face is in your neck, but she keeps turning to sneak peeks at these friendly newcomers. For once, being a mom is gonna save you from awkwardness rather than subject you to it further. "June," you say softly, "you wanna say hello? These are Eddie's friends. You can say hi, baby."

Junie isn't shy around new people. After your reassurance and a couple more seconds looking at them with mild suspicion, Junie turns her face to Robin and says, "Hi."

"Hi," she says back. "She's a really pretty kid. Me and Steve have worked at the video store for like, almost three years, and we see some uggos."

"Rob," Steve says.

"What?" Robin asks.

"You can't say that."

"Mom," Junie says.

You look down as she looks up. "What?"

"Where's Eddie?" she asks.

You lean back and turn her encouragingly toward the open trailer door. "He's inside. He's coming back."

"He…" She looks between you and the doorway. Her voice is quiet. "Play soccer and me?"

"Yeah, he's gonna play soccer with you."

"With me," she says.

You grin. "Exactly."

You've only ever had Junie, so you don't know what counts as slow or advanced or normal, but you know kids all go at their own pace, and that most get there eventually without help.

Your girl's never been quiet. She speaks even when she doesn't have the words. Daycare and your dedicated encouragement have brought it on suddenly, leaps and bounds of words, but she's still slightly behind, you think, although you trust that she'll get there when she can. Her vocabulary grows every single day.

"How old is she?" Robin asks, pulling her knees to her chest, soccer ball held in front of her shoes.

"Uh, she'll be three really soon," you say.

"Oh, she's kind of small," Steve says.

"You just said she was big," Robin says belligerently.

"I already said, she looks different in the picture," Steve says, frowning at Robin forcefully. "Does she look three to you?"

"Yeah, doofus," Robin says.

"Her birthday's in June, so it's really coming," Eddie says, a tray in hand you barely remember owning and bedecked in drinks.

He has four big lemonades and June's sippy cup, the pink one that was supposed to help her transition from bottles to cups and has yet to be progressed from further. Like always, these things take time.

"Can you believe that?" you ask. "It's already summer."

"Ew, no. I need time to slow down. Summer at the video store is hell, and it's about to get worse because Steve's ditching me."

"How come?" you ask.

Eddie sits beside you with the tray. It impresses you that he doesn't tip a drop, until you remember that he's a bus boy, and at times when the Hideout gets super busy he acts as a regular waiter, just like you.

"Steve's gonna start working at Cork Kids," Eddie says.

"The daycare? No way, that's where Junie goes," you say excitedly.

"Really?" Steve asks, smiling again. "I just signed my contract with them. Looks like we might be seeing each other all the time, Junie."

"You'll have a friend before you start," you say.

"Oh, thanks," Steve says, looking down at his lap momentarily.

You side eye Eddie, who gives you a look that says he knows what you're thinking. At first glance, Steve looked like a normal, perhaps preppy guy, but it makes sense that there's some uncertainty there. Eddie seems to attract earnest people with self-esteem issues.

"Have you been around kids before?" you ask.

"I– yeah, I had to take a course, but this is my first go at it as a job. I can handle it though, I'm good with kids. I'm new to looking after the younger ones."

"It's hard work," Eddie says.

You shake your head. "No, it's easy, they're lovely. My June is a sweetheart, I promise."

"She makes it look easy," Eddie says, shaking his head vehemently.

Robin snickers at Eddie's fear mongering and drops the soccer ball in favour of one of the glasses of lemonade. Ice cubes clink against the side of the glass as she takes a sip.

Junie's interest is piqued by the ball. She sits up in your lap, looking tentatively between the adults surrounding her and the prize ahead. Robin nudges the ball toward her subtly with her foot. Junie's delighted as it rolls toward her, standing so she can grab it. It makes her look small to be holding something so big near her head.

"Do you wanna play?" Eddie asks her.

Junie shrugs. "With you?"

"Yeah, with me."

She looks at Robin. "Play?"

"Sure," Robin says.

"What about me?" Steve asks. "Can I play, too?"

Junie looks oddly hesitant. You rub one of her arms briefly. "Steve can play too, right, baby?"

She squints at him. "Okay. Steve too."

Eddie chokes on a laugh. "Exactly how I feel about him. Oh, come on, Harrington! You know I'm joking. Just get up already, Junie wants to play."

—

Eddie's lying down in the grass a couple of hours later when you sit at his hip. He's tuckered out from running, kicking, and throwing June around, and he's in desperate need of a shower. You clearly don't care, bending over his prone form, your arms around his stomach in a skewiff hug.

"Hi, handsome."

"Hi. She's sleeping?"

You'd dragged Junie inside and out of the sun to change and feed her, and Eddie had stayed outside to say a proper goodbye to his friends. Now they're gone, and the lack of her points to one obvious explanation.

"Missed her nap. She was asleep by her third mouthful."

"That's my bad."

"No, she had the most fun she's ever had today."

What's better than one person willing to dote on you? Four. Steve had been eager and honestly more than happy to meet Junie and get to know her, and Robin had been awkward at first but just as kind. Good thing: Junie declared Robin her new best friend. Eddie couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Steve, but she warmed up to him eventually.

"I'm glad, actually, 'cos I've totally fucked my jeans. Cancels out."

You'd absolutely decimated your jeans with grass stains. Reluctant, you'd agreed to play soccer, or a mismatch game with way less players. You, Junie, and Robin against the boys. You were starting to enjoy yourself when you slid, and Eddie thought, Oh, fuck, she's gonna be embarrassed, ready to jump in and help you up, but you burst out laughing and Junie ran to your side, ecstatic at the sound.

"I'll get you new jeans."

"I'll get myself new jeans," you say, rubbing your nose against his chest. It tickles, butterflies erupting beneath your touch. "It'll wash out. Probably."

"I'll get you new jeans," he says firmly, searching for your hand.

He wraps his fingers around it and feels your skin without motive, the sky a calmed, darkening blue above him, orange and pink hints whispering at the horizon.

"Do you think they liked me?"

"They did. I know they did. Steve gave me that look guys give each other."

"That look," you croon, laying down in the grass beside him.

Eddie misses your hugging but lavishes in the feeling of you under his arm, your face turning into his chest. He lifts his head to see you've closed your eyes and pressed your mouth against his shirt.

"He's jealous."

"He's not jealous," you say fondly.

"He should be," Eddie says, curling his arm around you.

"Don't flirt with me."

"I can't stop."

You laugh. He doesn't hear it so much as feel it, the gentle shaking of your shoulders. Dropping his nose into your hair, Eddie closes his eyes as you have and breathes you in.

"Holy shit," he says, pretending to be alarmed.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me," you say.

"No, it's nothing."

You huff showfully and lift your head to look at him in question. The longer you look the weaker your resolve becomes, until you're cupping his face, total adoration in your eyes as you ask, "What?"

"Just can't believe we're together," he says. He lifts his chin. Your hand falls to his neck. "That's all."

You soften further. There's a hint of sadness to your tone, "Me neither."

"It shouldn't be feasible for someone to have as much luck as I do. Hey, d'you think you could kiss my dice before I leave tonight?"

You tuck a piece of hair behind his ear, your gaze on his lips and chin.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah, I'll kiss your dice… m'just thinking."

The wind blows mildly, lapping the smell of grass and dry dirt your way. Eddie finds he kind of likes it, but that could be the smell of you overtop, domineering as it is. Jasmine, the lingering scent of talcum powder, honey and milk hand soap. The last remnants of your shampoo, if he really thinks about it. You smell like everything he's ever wanted.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks quietly.

"You and me."

"I'm always thinking about you and me," he says.

You hug him, hiding your face in his chest for a second time. "I'm the lucky one," you say.

Eddie stretches back in the soft grass and looks up into the sky. Sunset approaches without any concern for what Eddie wants; to stay here with you for a long, long while. It's too bad that he has to find a lock for your bathroom, and go see Gareth and the remaining Hellfire Club (or rather, the remaining members of his Hellfire generation) for another session of D&D.

"Maybe I'll call. Cancel."

"No, you have to go. You spend too much time with me as it is. You need your friends, and you'll have fun when you're there, you always do."

"I don't spend enough time with you," he says.

If he had it his way, he'd happily spend forever locked in time with you here, the warmth of your body sinking into his side and his hair trapped under your weight. It tugs every time you move. He likes you so much that he doesn't consider asking you to stay still.

It's quiet. Eddie can hear the wind over the grass, the ticking wheel spokes of bikes somewhere not far, and your breathing. Slow, deep breaths.

"I'm glad I could fall in love with you before I noticed it was happening," he says, his voice low and a tad rough.

Your breath catches.

It's a half truth. He was well aware of how much he liked you, but hadn't realised it was going to be such an intense sort of reverential affection until he was already knee deep in it.

"I barely felt it," he says. "No, that's wrong," —he smiles, his words warmed by affection— "I did feel it. I felt it and it was intense, but it was ridiculously easy. Like I'd already done it before. One day I'm stealing looks at you over Friday dessert and the next I wanted you so badly I couldn't make myself ask for it.

"And… even though I wanted you, I think I fell in love with being your friend first. I'm fucking grateful for that, for you. You're everything to me." A best friend and a great love.

"Oh," you mumble, your hand sliding up his chest to the space opposite his heart. "You might actually have to cancel seeing your friends, I don't think I can let you leave after that."

You lift your chin, steer his face to yours, and kiss him. It's soft, but Eddie can feel an exuberance underneath it. Like a vibration. A thrumming fondness for him in the way you pull away and dive right back in.

One kiss turns to two, and a third lends itself to something deeper, his lips parting under the light pressure of your weight above him.

He drapes his arm behind your neck, hooking you into the crook of it. The kisses after that are endless and too short, heavy and not heavy enough. He can't tell his own touch from yours, your hands or his hands, the tip of your nose as it slides into his; as you search downward for something more.

"Public indecency," he says when he can't breathe, nudging you away.

You draw in a big breath and sit up so you're kneeling beside him. He sits up too in an attempt to minimise the space between you, feeling flushed as though he's done a forbidden thing, rather than having just kissed his partner.

He grabs your hands. He isn't ready to part with them.

"I think I fell in love with you when I cut your hair," you say. The setting sun is like gold, your skin aglow in its wash.

"Yeah?"

"Or maybe the first time that you came to see me at work." Your eyes light up at the memory. "You didn't even try to pretend it was for food. You didn't care."

He shakes your hands around mindlessly. "The haircut was a big event for me, too," he says through another smile.

They're constant when he's with you.

"Do you still want me to cut your hair?" you ask, tilting your head to one side in appraisal.

"Maybe tomorrow. I think I'd lose my mind tonight."

"I think so, too," you say.

You lean down as you lift one of his hands to the underside of your chin, rubbing your skin with his knuckles. You draw a line with his hand, your chin to your jaw to your cheek.

His heart skips a beat at the sight. Your serene expression, your soft cheek, and the little smile that blooms as he opens his hand and strokes quarter circles into the desired space with his thumb.

"Are you gonna shower before you go?" you ask mildly, eyes half-lidded.

"Do I smell?"

"Kind of," you say.

"You never smell gross," he says, a tiny lie. Everybody smells bad sometimes, but the majority of the time you smell like heaven on earth.

You roll your eyes. "You're all talk."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

He leans in for a quick kiss, like a dotting of the lips. He does it another two times, to be sure you feel as loved as he feels. "Okay, I better go. I'll shower, and I'll see if there's a lock I can borrow for the bathroom 'til I have time to go to the store."

"You don't have to do that, I can take Junie and get one tonight."

He kisses you again. "It's okay," he says with a smile, his lips a hair's width from yours. He pulls away. "I don't mind. Saves you having to get her ready, I know she's a demon in the store lately."

"She used to be our little lady," you lament faux-tearfully.

"That she did, sweetheart. That she did."

Eddie pulls himself out of your arms reluctantly.

Wayne's eating a grilled cheese sandwich over the sink when Eddie gets home, and a second when he gets out of the shower, so he picks Wayne's brain and towel dries his hair.

"How do we stop June from getting into the bathroom?" he asks, hanging his head upside down and scrubbing at his stringy curls.

"Lock it."

"If we don't have a lock?" he asks, looking through his curtain of hair.

"Buy one." Wayne shrugs.

Eddie drops the towel onto the floor by his feet. "I'm going to. But for tonight?"

"Put a chair under the door of your room so she can't leave when you're asleep."

"Not my room," Eddie says. A flush colours his cheeks.

"Are you going to move in with her? You could get a new place, rent one of those houses by the elementary school. They're nice enough."

"Woah, woah, who says I'm moving out?" Eddie asks, laughing nervously.

Wayne takes a big bite of sandwich and Eddie suffers without an answer until he's done. "'We,'" Wayne says, "you keep saying 'we'. Sounds serious."

"I think it's a little soon to move in," Eddie says.

"Me too. But if you're thinking about it, it doesn't hurt to start saving. I'll help."

Eddie wants to say no, you definitely won't. "Yeah," he says instead, coughing to cover the tickle in his throat. "Alright. Thanks, Wayne."

"Moving is expensive, but she can't stay in that place forever. Junie'll outgrow it in a year."

"We live in almost the exact same trailer," Eddie says with a laugh.

"Exactly. And we're comfortable." Wayne swigs his coke. "But if I could've, we would've moved."

"You still could."

"Are you kidding me? This is my home. When you move out I think I'll stay in the front room, I like it in there. TV in bed, big windows."

"I bet you'll like it more when I'm not around keeping you up at night."

Wayne shrugs. "Most people live with their kids until they're eighteen, right? We had a late start. You're entitled to a couple more if you want them… but something tells me you'll be flying the coop soon enough."

"Not that soon."

Wayne sniffs like this is upsetting for him, "Well, whenever you're ready, kid."

—

Eddie comes back a little later to tell you to trap the baby in your room tonight and he'll get you a lock first thing in the morning, promise. You love him because he calls her 'the baby', and because he could've called rather than park up his van and tell you in person. He gives you another kiss, you can't count how many that makes it, saying he'll see you tomorrow, and that's that.

Junie wakes up from her nap not long after. She's startlingly grumpy considering, and she demonstrates the horror of motherhood concisely —she screams, she cries, she pushes your glass of juice off of the table. It smashes it into a hundred different pieces.

She screams louder when you pick her up to stop her from cutting her feet.

You love her, but it's been a long day. You're exhausted, your head hurts, and it's difficult to clean up smashed glass with a kid. You don't wanna leave her unattended when she's wound up in case she has a tantrum. She's given herself bruises before, and you don't want or need that to happen again.

If you put her down she might try to touch the glass. You clutch her to your chest and sweep the glass up one-handed. It takes a long time, and she only grows more irate as it passes, wiggling in your arms to be put down.

She squirms and pulls her arms from under yours, hitting you square in the face by mistake. You're lucky it hadn't happened earlier. They don't mean to, but babies in tantrums tend to flail around, and June's great at chinning you.

It's an accident, you know it is, but you flinch and almost drop her.

"Juniper," you say firmly, desperate for an intermission.

She quietens a touch. You take a very deep breath, abandon the almost full dustpan, and walk as quickly as you can to your room. You put Junie down on her toddler bed, put Mr. Bear in her lap, and crawl into bed with a pillow over your head.

You don't scream or anything, but you could. One sharp moment. You could really scream. You would if you thought it wouldn't scare her.

It's not Junie's fault. You have a shorter fuse than usual and it's incredibly frustrating when she gets in one of these moods, but she's your baby, you made her, and she's growing up. It must be frustrating for her, too.

She cries quietly in bed, the sound turning your heart. You try to stop your own tears and give yourself a minute in hiding. You nibble your lip. Why are you so stressed? You can't work it out.

You know she's hardwork sometimes, but it's not her fault. It's not your fault, either. You're both doing the best you can.

You take a breath, another, and peel the pillow from your head.

She has snot on her face, wide-eyed and hugging Mr. Bear to her cheek.

Your nose stings.

"You wanna come and lie in bed with me?" you ask, begging whoever it is that's watching over you to have her give in.

With Mr. Bear's ear in her fist, Junie slides off of the bed and crosses the small space of the room to yours. You pull her up onto your mattress and smile at her. Guilt is a leaden weight in your stomach. It aches, seeing her all covered in tears, worse because she looks properly scolded. You don't often tell her off.

"Your nose?" she says.

"It's okay." You clear your throat. "It's okay, lovely girl."

She blinks at you and raises her hand to your nose. You let her feel it, even though it hurts.

"Does it look like it's hurting?" you ask.

She doesn't usually connect her actions like this. A month ago she bit your index finger and couldn't figure out why you pulled your hand away. You're surprised that this is different.

"No…" She sniffles.

"I'm okay. Don't be worried, baby, mom's alright. It doesn't hurt. But you can give it a little kiss, if you want. That'll be good."

You bend down for her.

"Kiss?" you ask.

She leans up and kisses the tip of your nose. It's not a clean kiss. You don't mind.

"Thank you."

"You'w welcome," she mumbles.

You sigh, pulling your shirt sleeve over your hand so you can wipe her messy face. "Let me clean you up, you're all snotty. Make you feel better. There we go, there's my girl. I couldn't see you under all the tears." You stroke her cheek with your knuckle. "I'm sorry, baby. Everything was very overwhelming. Should we try again?"

She looks like she might grizzle.

"Let's have dinner, yeah? You can pick something from the freezer. Any dinner you want."

Dinner works for a time, but afterward she has more sulking to do. You keep her on her toes, playing games and watching TV. She's clean but you're pulling out all the stops, filling the baby bath for her and letting her play until the water's cold and you're soaked from her rubber ducks.

She still doesn't sleep. In a last ditch effort, you give her a bottle of warm milk, though she's aged out of formula now, and it works.

She falls asleep hours later than she should. It's nearly 11PM.

You look down at her asleep on your chest. Her eyes are swollen from crying buckets. Your own prickle, until tears swim and your vision blurs.

You press the back of your hand to your mouth, eyes scrunched closed, and try to make as little noise as possible. It's awful timing, you'll wake her before she's properly sleeping, but you've felt so tired today, and even when Eddie's friends came for a couple of hours you were already rubbed raw. You're tired all the time.

In compliance with the nature of being upset, the things that are upsetting you grow in size. They double, quadruple, until they're heavy enough to knock you down for the count, have you crying like a kid out of pure defeat. You cry so hard it pulls every bit of energy you have and kills it, so hard you couldn't make noise if you wanted to, about everything and nothing. You're at the end of your rope.

You rub Junie's back and wish someone was rubbing your own. It's an odd distress.

It's lucky you hear his footsteps on the steps outside.

If Eddie walked in on you like this, you'd never forgive yourself. You can't imagine it. He's seen you hungry, greasy. He's watched you put things back at the store, he knows you lived off of leftovers and saltiness for months. And you'd do it all again for your girl, but it still hurts thinking he's seen you that low.

You shudder, sucking in two big breaths that won't work.

You drag a rumpled sleeve over your cheeks and try not to move.

The knock is very gentle. You can picture him on the other side, stooped and waiting for you to let him in. If he thinks you're asleep he won't knock again, and it's late. If you can stay quiet for long enough, he'll go home.

He tries the handle.

"Oh, my god," he says when it opens, "I'm gonna fight her."

The her in question sniffs and wipes her eyes again. Eddie flinches at the sound, his head whipping to the side to find you where you're balled up on the couch.

"Holy shit, what's wrong?" he asks.

You shake your head. "N-nothing," you stammer quietly.

"What?" he asks, like this is preposterous, and you guess it is. Something seems very wrong.

He kicks his shoes off by the door as he closes it and doesn't waste any time, though he's quiet and careful as he crosses the room and sits down next to you.

His hand cups your cheek, feeling the tacky damp there for himself.

"What's wrong? Tell me… tell me,” he says.

"It's nothing," you say.

You'd wanted a hand to rub your back, but it's sudden. He's here, and he's seen you crying, and you have no control over it. You never really do.

"It looks like something," he whispers.

You cover Junie's head with your hand. Your smile is somehow more concerning than your frown, if Eddie's reaction is anything to go off of.

"I'm fine."

"How long has she been sleeping?" he asks.

"I don't know.” You sniffle.

For some reason, Eddie's question starts you off again, tears welling in your eyes like fat drops of dew and falling just as fast. One squeezes under his hand.

"Is something hurting?" he asks, his brow pinched now, nothing but patience in his tone.

"No."

"How about I put her to bed for you?" he asks.

"Yes, please."

His frown deepens as the tears build. You're horrified to notice his wince at your shuddering, but breath won't come right. His hands needle under Junie's front, tense as a taut string, and Eddie lifts her into his arms, not quite practised. He shushes her when she mumbles.

"I'll be right back," he mouths.

You nod at his promise. As soon as he's cleared the living room you curl forward, face in your hands, shoulders shaking hard as you wipe your cheeks, catching tears before they race the hill of your cheek.

Things must go well. Eddie's back thirty seconds later, and he's worried.

"Hey, hey. Tell me what happened," he murmurs, perching on the couch next to you.

You try. You're not sure what's upset you, and when you open your mouth nothing wants to come out. Eddie's never, ever seen you cry like this, and it's clear that it's freaking him out.

He curves his arm behind your shoulders and pulls you to his side, voice a pleading murmur as he says, "What's wrong? Please, sweetheart, tell me."

"I'm tired," you force out. The main issue.

"I know."

"Sorry, I don't– know why I'm crying so much," you say, words staggered.

Eddie encourages your head under his chin. There's nothing specific beyond that, no more talking from either of you. He hugs your shoulders tightly, likely tighter than he means to, as though he's worried you'll come apart if he doesn't. The strange feeling of helplessness abates slowly, like an ebbing tide guided away from the shore.

Your sobs turn to smaller, spluttering tears, until the panic fades completely, and the waterworks eventually stop.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, fighting the sore lump in your throat.

"It's okay." You can feel him swallow. "You scared me. You– Do you need something? Some water?"

"No…" You feel like a little kid and like you're too old at the same time. You haven't cried that hard in a long time, and you hadn't had Eddie there to sit with you through it. You're grateful for that, if nothing else. "Can you just–" You turn toward him. "Can I have a hug?"

He steel arms you into his chest, dropping a kiss against your hot forehead.

"Yes," he says, punctuating with more kisses. "No question about it. You can have anything you want from me. Would it make you feel better if I cried, too? I can do that, sweetheart, I could really go for it. In sixth grade, I made myself cry so hard I threw up 'cos I wanted to get out of gym."

You choke on a laugh.

He doubles down.

"I was dry heaving on the bleachers for an hour," he says, his hand behind your head and vying for your clammy neck, stroking a line when he finds it. "They wouldn't send me to the nurse."

"I don't need you to cry. It's… Junie's been wound up like a top all day, and she woke up and just screamed for hours, Eds, screamed. She couldn't have been asleep ten minutes when you got here."

"I'm sorry. That must have been overwhelming."

You peer up into his face to gauge his expression. Not that you think he's ingenuine, but you're worried he's humouring you.

"I got mad at her."

He hums. "Yeah?"

"I didn't mean to, but she hit me."

"What?"

"By accident."

"No, I figured. Where'd she get you?"

"My nose," you admit.

Eddie leans out of the circle of your arms to see your face, bringing a hand to your cheek. He assesses your nose. You want to tell him there's nothing to find, but it's nice to be checked over. His palm is warm.

"If you're crying because you got angry, I promise it's alright. Everybody has a breaking point."

"I know." You hadn't been cruel. You took what you could, and when it got too much you set her down and had a breather.

"Wayne got so mad at me one time he asked me to go get him rosemary toothpaste just so he could have an hour away from me."

"Rosemary toothpaste?"

He turns your head slightly to the side. "Doesn't exist."

"What did you do to make him mad?"

"Cut all the sleeves off of my t-shirts."

"All of them?"

"Every single shirt I owned. It was a cold winter."

He smiles, his pale cheeks appled, his big brown eyes reflecting your own.

"Did you get really mad?" he asks softly.

"No,” you say, cutting yourself some slack. “I didn’t.”

“You know you're allowed though?”

“I don't want to get mad at her. She can't help it.”

“Neither can you. I'm not saying you should yell at her, but don't beat yourself up for not enjoying a sucker punch.”

“It wasn’t that. I’m not upset about it, I mean, I’m not very happy but it’s not the first time I felt overwhelmed by her. I don’t care if she drives me up the wall sometimes, I don’t even care about the impromptu nose job,” —Eddie whoops, before covering his mouth apologetically— “or that she took awhile to go down. I really don't know why…”

“I'm going to say something.”

“Oh no.”

“Not trying to be a freak here, but maybe you're visiting with the devil.”

You sit back. His hands fall to your hips.

“Sorry?” you ask.

Eddie smiles ruefully. “You know. Riding the crimson wave.” He grimaces at your continued confusion. “Time of month?”

You’re embarrassed thinking he’s embarrassed by it, but luckily he furthers, “Sorry if that’s weird to say, I don’t know if that’s weird. I’d, like, crawl across hot coals for you, I really don’t care if that’s what it is, just girls get kind of intense. Emotionally. At that time.”

“Oh really?” you ask.

His skin turns ashen. “Um–”

“I'm kidding,” you say.

Your hand drifts to your stomach. It would make sense as to why you’re feeling very tired and confused about your emotions, and it might be nearing that time. You’re so busy you haven't been keeping track. “Maybe it is,” you say, mumbling still.

“I’m not saying you can't have a breakdown if you need one,” he says.

“No, I know. Maybe you’re right. I kind of hope you're right.”

“Is this awkward?”

“You sleep in my bed nearly every night, Eds. I dont think it's awkward unless you do.”

“Again, I’d crawl across hot coals for you, so… this is the most minor thing ever. Not for you, for me. For you, it sucks. For me?” He pinches your cheek gently. “I worship the ground you walk on, you loser, I don't care if it’s shark week. We’re not in middle school.

“But if it isn’t hormones making you unhappy, if you really feel this awful, you can tell me.”

“I don't know what it is," you say, embarrassed, a headache pounding in your temple.

“That’s okay though, right? Or is it too much?”

“I feel better,” you say. It's true and not true.

Fuck, he’s sweet. His lips pout ever so slightly in concern for you, his brows pinching down. His hands remain steadfast on your hips.

“Well, if it gets too much you gotta let me know. Legally. That’s the whole point of having a boyfriend, I think. You gotta let me take care of you… You're sure you feel better?”

“Yeah. I really am sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being a loser.” You laugh wetly.

“Ah, but you're my loser,” he says, arms curling behind your back again. “I don't want you to cry, but if you are going to then I’m glad it’s when you’re with me, yeah? I don’t like that you were crying alone. Think of all the amazing support you missed out on. I could’ve been rubbing your back that whole time.” He rubs your back in emphasis.

“That feels nice.”

“Do you have any aches?”

“I always have aches, I’m a waitress.”

“Me too.” He presses his lips to your skin. “Let me make you something to drink, and I’ll stay the night, if that’s cool? I can rub your back for hours without getting tired.”

“‘Cos you have such big muscles,” you agree indulgently. He has amazingly shaped biceps, but that’s besides the point.

“That is exactly why.”

He blows a breath out against your cheek and sits back into the couch. “Do me a favour? Next time I ask you what’s wrong, don't say nothing. Don’t hide when you’re feeling like shit, I need to know.”

"Okay. Yeah, I will. Just… you always see me at my worst."

Eddie chucks under your chin and begins to stand. "I get to see you at your best, too. It's a good deal."

It’s a good deal, you mouth to yourself.

“Get up,” he says from the front door, mock-cross when you don't immediately follow, “I can't go to bed by myself.” He locks the front door, sliding the deadbolt home. “You didn’t kiss my dice, you know? That’s why I came tonight, to harp at you.”

“And that couldn't wait until tomorrow?”

Eddie glares at you, “No?”

You hold your hands up, your voice still thick from tears but inarguably in love. “Alright. Harp at me. But carry me to bed first.”

It’s not long before he’s pushing his head against your side, arms at your waist in an attempt to lift you over his shoulder like a fireman, whisper-yelling, “What are you saying? You asked me to carry you! I can’t hear you, babe, just brace yourself.”

—

Junie has the sense that you're being weird. She’s three, or one day away from it, and she won’t remember anything you’re saying right now but she’ll remember how she felt, the warmth of your loving hand in her hair, stroking it from her face as you and Eddie titter at one another. Eddie’s like you, in a way, a mom but not around as much. Almost as much recently, though, which is great news.

“I saw one in the department store by the bus station,” Eddie says, strumming his guitar. It plinks.

Junie sniffs, her nose a little runny, and dips her head back against your chest. You smell like home, the sweet and soft swirl of lavender and jasmine laundry powder, a burning smell she doesn’t really care for that comes after you sit on the floor and press the clothes —hot hot hot, junebug— every other night, and the treats you’re sharing.

“Sounds expensive,” you say gently.

“So?”

“So,” you say, and Junie bristles at the mild annoyance in your tone, because you are incredibly soft-handed and have been since she was born, “I won’t be able to afford it, Eds.” Your annoyance fades as soon as it comes, and you say ‘Eds’ so nicely that Junie turns her face and rubs her cheek into your t-shirt.

“You okay, baby?” you ask her.

Junie huffs, pleased. She is very okay. Even better when you offer her another chocolatey cookie.

“It’s her birthday, she only gets one a year. And I’d be happy to pay for it, anyways.”

“Yeah, you’re always happy to pay for things, you have a screw loose.”

Eddie laughs. Junie laughs at his laughing; whenever he’s laughing there’s happiness afoot. He loves to swing her around in his arms, tickle her, play with her small army of teddies and make them speak. He beams at her from his seat on the floor in front of the TV, the guitar that she’s grown to revere twanging as he puts it down on the floor.

“Hearing that, bug? Your mommy can’t leave me alone today.”

Junie, for all her brilliant smarts, her growing mind, doesn’t really get what he means. She knows that she’s the bug he’s talking to, and that he’s doing something fun from the lilting cadence of his teasing, but beyond that it’s nonsense.

She loses interest quickly and returns to her melting cookie, unperturbed by the mess that it makes of her small hands and once-pristine sleeves. You never shout about stains, so Junie doesn’t see a problem, not until you laugh, the breath of it warm against her ear, and push the sleeves of her shirt up the lengths of her arms. She’s wearing her very favourite strawberry pyjamas today, though they make her agitated every now and then because they don’t feel quite right. She doesn’t see why. They’ve always been the best.

“Don’t listen to stinky,” you say.

Junie nods. Mom always knows best, she knows, in an abstract way. Except for when you say that the one-eyed stray that slinks around doesn’t like pets. He loves them when you’re not looking.

“We have a chance to make it a really special day, so why don’t we? It’ll pay for itself. The sun’ll be out morning, noon, and night soon, and she can use it every day.”

“Morning, noon, and night,” you repeat. “Very Tolkien of you.”

Eddie makes a pleased sound as he stands up. Junie thinks he is the tallest person in the world. “Thank you,” he says sincerely.

He squeezes Junie’s toes as he passes, and despite how weird it feels she kind of likes it. She loves Eddie, astronomically, gargantuanly, though these are big words to her.

Love can't be described in the words that she knows, but it can be acted out. She drops her cookie like it’s aflame and slips out of your comfortable lap: you are the very best seat, even better than being in bed. Still, she abandons you and your cookies and follows Eddie in a run to the kitchen where he’s opening the fridge.

“Drink, pretty girl?” he asks her, voice saccharine sweet.

She makes a sound of delight. “Up!”

“Say please,” he directs, already squatting down to grab her.

“Please up!” she demands, walking into his waiting arms.

Again, Eddie’s like you. As mom, you feel not too different from Junie herself. She doesn’t know that she misses you, but she does miss you heartily when you leave her at the daycare for the day, or sometimes when she wakes up first in the mornings and can’t climb into bed with you. She doesn’t understand missing you, only wanting you, and she wants Eddie in the same capacity. When he picks her up she feels better, and happy, and loved when his hand stretches palm-flat over her back and pats a turbulent rhythm.

He sings too fast to understand, one of his loud songs. Your music is quieter, because you’re a quiet mom. You whisper when she falls asleep on your chest, singing love songs under your breath as the night creeps in, and your footfall is carefully measured. But you laugh loudly, one of Junie’s favourite sounds in the whole world —up there with the Muppet Babies’ theme song and the squeak your tennis shoes make when you half-run to the baby gate at pick up.

Eddie laughs much, much louder, usually in tandem with you, or if not then only a few seconds before. He also growls, raspberries, and chortles. He does the best Animal impression ever, like the muppet himself is hiding around the corner.

“Here, June, you have your sippy cup, there's a good girl. You’re not drinking much today, what’s the matter? Is your juice not yummy enough?”

Junie takes the offered sippy cup and tries to formulate a response. It’s hard, because Eddie said lot’s of things all at once, and there were two different questions in the mix. She catches onto the very last, giving her sippy cup a good shake as she answers, “It’s yummy.”

You and Eddie love when Junie speaks. Your faces glow. It’s the best.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“Yes,” she tries. “Juice.” She changes her mind. “Cookies?”

“One track mind,” Eddie says.

Junie takes it for an I love you, of sorts. The way he says it suggests affection, she can’t pinpoint exactly what, but it’s how you sound when you tell her every day. She pushes her hands into his hair and then around his neck to give him a deliberate hug. He does the humming thing he tends to do when he’s picked her up, pat-pat-patting her back even as she pulls away.

“Is the cuddle over?” he asks, pouting at her, his eyes widening. “Mom wasn’t even jealous yet.”

“Shut up,” you say happily.

“Have a drink,” Eddie insists to Junie, encouraging the mouth of her sippy cup to her chin. “It’s a warm day today, me and you and mommy have to drink lots and lots to stay healthy. Did you want another drink?”

Junie has a drink, but she doesn't bother correcting him.

“Please, handsome, if you don’t mind," you say.

Handsome is kind of like junebug, only you never call Junie handsome, so it must be Eddie’s alone. Junie doesn’t mind: she gets called baby and babe and bub and sweetheart and even little lady when she’s being really good.

It goes without saying that she feels very, very loved. Even her name feels like a pet name when you say it most the time.

"Junie doesn't need a super big one, she's just one girl. She'd be happy with a kiddie–" You cough. "Whatever size."

"I know she'd be happy," Eddie says, Junie still in his arms and confused.

He's multi-tasking, filling up your prettiest cup until the enamel flowers are starkly backgrounded by juice and ice. Eddie pulls Junie up higher on his side and kisses her forehead. "You've been a happy gal lately. Which is good, good for mom, and good for you." He smiles until she smiles back.

"What I'm saying," Eddie starts over Junie's head, carrying her and your cup back to the living room, "is that I want to get it for her, please. I'll go now while it's still open, and I'll have to get a hose and an air pump or something from somewhere so that'll take time, and filling it up might take an hour or two. 'Cos, listen, I'll pay for it and if the water bill is ridiculous I'll pay for that, too–"

"I don't want you to pay for it, Eds, you don't work ten hour shifts six days a week to spend it all on us."

"No," he says agreeably, sitting down beside you, Junie in his lap. She spots the cookies she'd been missing and reaches across to your lap. You take her on instinct, and boom, cookies achieved. "I barely ever work six days a week anymore, and you're right that I don't work to spend it all on you guys. I spend too much of on nerd crap, another too much on groceries, and some of it goes into savings–"

"What savings?" you say, laughing like this is a funny joke.

"–but really, I don't think of it as spending money on you, babe, and I bet you don't think of it like that either. We're not keeping a tally chart."

"Of course not," you say softly, putting your hand on Eddie's shoulder, "I didn't mean to imply that."

"You didn't," Eddie says, just as soft. "I'm just saying, it's not about money. You know it yourself, the less you have the more you want to give, and I have enough to blow her mind, so I think we should do it. But I don't want to make you uncomfortable or uneasy," —he says uneasy like it's a slimy word, making Junie giggle— "so if you don't want me to, I won't. We'll find something else, it really doesn't matter. Don't get stressed."

"I think I'm always stressed," you murmur, sinking down into your seat. Junie twists to look at you, startled at your sudden change in attitude. You've moved from happy to sad. It's odd. "Sorry, I'm not trying to be a nag."

Eddie laughs, the sound as startled as Junie's feeling. "You're not a nag! Do I make you feel like a nag?"

"No, I just know I am…"

"You are not a nag. You have a lot on your plate all the time, and you worry about money because you need to. I'm not blaming you for something that's not your fault," Eddie says.

Junie likes this part. Eddie slides an arm behind your shoulders, kisses your cheek, and speaks in murmurs as you relax under his touch, "You're allowed to be stressed, don't feel guilty. Just let me have some of the stress too, alright? Don't be greedy."

"This sucks."

"It doesn't suck." Eddie lowers his voice to a whisper, Junie can't hear what he says next. "Let me buy the pool, babe. She'll love it. It has a built-in slide."

"I know what one you're talking about, and it was one hundred and fifty dollars."

"I have it. If she uses it every day for the summer, that's like two dollars a day."

"She won't, though."

"Well, we waste money all the time. We bought that box of apples from that guy on the side of the road the other day for ten dollars and we didn't eat a single one."

"That's different, we forgot they were in the trunk. We probably would've died if we ate one, they got all squishy."

"If we all use the pool it's worth it. Me, you and June use it every day, it works out cheaper than a movie ticket."

"I'm gonna make you go in the pool every single day," you threaten without malice.

You obviously won't be doing that, you aren't that bitter, and Eddie says, "Yes," under his breath because it's practically permission.

"I will happily go in the pool every single day," he says.

"Pool?" Junie asks.

Junie already has a pool, and she loves it, and now she's heard the word, she wants it bad.

"Oh…" You kiss Eddie's jaw chastely. "Your fault."

"Shit," he says.

Junie takes a breath and repeats it, puzzled at your horror. You usually love it when she says new words.

—

The trailer is something out of a movie today. It's a warm and sunny day with enough cloud cover to defeat the brutal summer glare that sometimes smothers Hawkins. The breeze cools the sweat on the back of Eddie's neck, a blessed reprieve.

He couldn't ditch you yesterday after his 'pool' related slip up —you are, in fact, 'visiting with the devil', and it's making you miserable and stressed despite all your best intentions, so leaving you alone to get out and fill the pool, a sometimes stressful situation, was not on his agenda— resulting in a very early morning for him. He woke up at 6AM to drive to the department store by the Indianapolis bus station, had to hang around for half an hour before it even opened because he didn't time it right, and then had to drive back with the new pool hoping he could get it done before Junie was awake.

Juniper was, in fact, already awake and bounding around the trailer like a girl on fire, the decorations, banners and balloons and tablecloths, working her into a frenzy. Apparently she took a while to understand that the day was about her, but once she did she couldn't stop smiling.

"You should've seen it," you'd said, stretching the elastic string of a cardboard party hat over the head of Mr. Bear. "She went ballistic, Munson, absolutely crazy when she saw the cake, I don't think I've ever felt that happy in my life."

"Sorry I missed it," he'd said, in agony.

Eddie’s hoping the pool will get her to a similar level of excitement. He looks out over the grass behind your home and feels very, very smug. The pool has been successfully blown up with air and filled, and it looks like it was worth every penny with the hose running down the slide, the attached palm trees standing tall. Your favourite The Beat record is playing from the open window, and he can hear you and June singing along to Save It For Later, aceing the long na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na's. It makes him ridiculously happy.

"Looking good," Wayne says.

Eddie turns to his uncle where he's approaching from the left, a Teddy bear wrapped in purple-pink cellophane in hand.

"You think so?"

"Tyke's gonna love it. When's the grand reveal?"

"I'm all done, so right now," Eddie says. "Holy shit, this is sick, right?"

Wayne, in his most deluxe outfit, a light brown button down and a pair of unripped, unsullied jeans, gives Eddie what can only be described as his fond dad look. "It looks good, Eddie."

It should. There's the pool, the picnic blanket covered in cupcakes and finger sandwiches shielded by a big beach umbrella, and a sheet of green grass behind it.

"How are you gonna stop the strays getting at it?" Wayne asks.

"Who knows. I got a tarp in the van, that'll have to do it."

"You could, you know, pack it away."

"That is not how we do things," Eddie jokes.

"Didn't we just have a conversation about saving money?" Wayne asks.

"We did, yeah…" Eddie crosses his arms across his chest. "This honest living thing is tough."

"You love it," Wayne says. "You're a good kid."

Eddie sits on the foldout picnic bench he'd borrowed from Gareth and Wayne sits next to him, the two of them looking out at the pool, the sound of the hose and the crickets in the tall grass bordering the park a steadying company.

"Y/N invited the daycare kids. She didn't want me to get the pool, even though she kind of did, 'cos it wasn't cheap, but as soon as I brought it home she just–" Sparkled, Eddie wants to say, but he certainly won't be saying that to Wayne's face. Wayne would never let him live it down. "She called every mom she had the number for and invited the rest of the kids from daycare to come over. I don't even think she wants to brag, and shit, I want to. She just wants the kids to have a good time."

"Well, you picked a good one," Wayne says easily.

"I know you weren't sure. At first."

"That didn't have anything to do with her." Wayne rubs a hand over his chin. "It's hard, having kids. I feel for her doing it all by herself like that. I'm glad she has you now, but dating a woman with a kid isn't easy, and it isn't something you can do and move on from like nothing happened. I'm not saying you're that little girl's dad now, but you're doing the things a dad does, understand? You're not just a boyfriend."

Boyfriend is funny from Wayne's mouth. Juvenile. He doesn't think Eddie should call you his 'old lady' but he always laughs at 'girlfriend'. Wayne's a complicated dude. A little rough around the edges, and absolutely brimming to the neck with love.

"I get it," Eddie says, and he does.

He isn't Junie's dad, but he loves her like his own, he's sure of it. He's never had his own so he doesn't have a comparison, but still. And he gets that this is a layer to the relationship he shares with you. How it might complicate things. How it could go wrong.

"But you'd do anything for those girls, and I know that," Wayne says.

Eddie wishes Wayne would say a little more, explain it to him, because Eddie feels out of his element sometimes and needs a hand. He doesn't question if what he's doing is the right thing because it hasn't ever felt wrong. He doesn't worry about the future because the only thing he can see ahead are good times. But there's still an underlying anxiety, and he wishes his uncle would give him some relief. He also understands why Wayne doesn't.

"I would do anything for them," he agrees. "Which, I've been meaning to ask you something, a favour."

Wayne raises his eyebrows, looking tired. Eddie knows it's half charade.

"How do you feel about babysitting?"

"Now that's why I didn't want you hanging around her," Wayne says, deadpan.

Eddie laughs sharply, so suddenly he can't breathe and ends up hacking coughing into his hands.

Wayne laughs and pats Eddie on the back. "I can babysit. For an hour."

"Two? I'm trying to take her to dinner, you know. A real date, like a gentleman."

"We'll see. What's she think about it?"

"She's extremely protective, and you know she doesn't think you're a bad guy, or anything, but she's apprehensive."

"She'd be silly not to be. Some people are evil."

Eddie grimaces. "Exactly. But she trusts me and I trust you, so."

"I'd think you do. Only broke my back–"

"For the last ten years," Eddie finishes.

Wayne throws his arm around Eddie's shoulders. "Looking after you, son. God knows I'd do it again… As long as it's alright with Y/N, I'll babysit. But you know there's a ton of kids trying to make a buck around here who'd just love to help out," Wayne says. Eddie must have rubbed off on him or maybe Wayne's the source of all his theatrics; he puts on a hopeful, almost wistful sort of voice as he says it that has Eddie laughing all over again.

"We'll see. There's no hurry. Just wanna take her out sometimes, she deserves it."

"She sounds like she's having plenty of fun to me," Wayne says reassuringly.

You're singing and laughing through the words from the kitchen. You'd told Eddie you're going to give Junie a very intricate hairstyle so she can swim without worrying about washing it, and it's taken you the better part of the hour, yet neither your good mood nor June's has faded. He can see it, you feeding Junie cold cut-up fruit dipped in condensed milk, kissing her cheeks and massaging her scalp as you go. Junie on the counter, as happy as she's ever been.

"You almost done?" Eddie calls.

You turn down the music.

"What?" you ask, pushing the kitchen window open a little further, careful to push aside the shutters just enough to see him, but not let Junie see the backyard. "Oh, hi Mr. Munson, how are you? Can I get you something to drink?"

"Just here to give some birthday wishes," Wayne says, lifting the bear up. "How are you doing?"

"I'm awesome," you say brightly.

"You look good."

Wayne had pulled Eddie aside once, when you'd been dating for two weeks and bumped into him outside of Bradley's, as the fates should have it. He'd looked stern, hand on Eddie's shoulder, and said, "I'm not blaming you, son, but you gotta help her get some rest. Poor girl looks ready to fall over."

Eddie thinks you're pretty even when you're exhausted. In the fullest sense of the word, you meet every definition in his dictionary. You have these eyes that might not pull everyone in but more than hook him, and when you look at him sometimes it's with so much love you're basically an angel. Your smile is beautiful because it's yours. Your voice is lovely because of the words you choose to say, that endless sweetness and softness. He knows you well enough now to realise that there is an end to it in reality. When you're tired or fed up, you can be snappy and blunt and occasionally argumentative, but he likes that. He doesn't want you any other way, 'cos perfect doesn't exist and if it did he'd still end up on your doorstep with a plastic bag in the crook of his elbow, begging for one of those shitty mini pizzas you make and a place at your table.

You do look well, admittedly and despite your recent bout of restless upset. You had a good night's sleep, and Junie being happy makes you happier. You beam down at them from the window, your eyes sliding to the blown up pool and the mini picnic Eddie's set up.

"Thanks, Mr. Munson. Can I bring her down?" you ask.

"Absolutely," Eddie says, hand in the air and pulling toward his face, ushering you down, "right now."

The back door opens and you guide Junie out first. Eddie popped in to give a birthday cuddle and the card he'd picked out, but he hasn't seen Junie since you did her hair, and it looks so nice it melts his heart. She stands in the doorway in her swimming costume, pink and purple and green ombre with frills everywhere, her face slack.

"Happy birthday!" Eddie says, standing so he can hold out his hand and help her down the stairs. She takes it but doesn't move. "Me and mom know you like your pool so much we wanted to get you another one, do you like it?"

She starts wiggling, jumping without her feet leaving the floor. She looks at Eddie, at Wayne, at you, at the pool, and a noise starts to brew like the whistle of a saucepan boiling water, the lid skewiff. Eddie grins and waves her hand.

"It's for you, babe, do you want to get in?" he encourages.

"With you?" she asks, still wiggling.

"Maybe later. Do you need help?"

Junie runs to the edge of the pool, looking over the side that's almost as tall as her and into the water. You already gave him a strict talk about water safety as though for a moment you might not be supervising, loving but resolute that she can't for one single second be unattended or without eyes on her.

He hadn't been offended, though he did kiss the top of your head and say sarcastically, "Thanks, major, I didn't know that."

"Jerk," you'd said, earning another kiss.

Eddie puts his hands under her arms and lifts her up carefully. Her legs curl in toward her stomach like a pill bug. "It might be cold, June, but it's in the sun, so it won't stay cold. Ready?"

"Yes!" she says.

Eddie eases her down into the water. She shrieks happily as water covers her toes, her legs, up past her belly button.

Eddie lets her go and she sits in the water rather than stands. The water reaches her shoulders. She lifts her hands and does a little splash. "It's so big!" she cheers.

You ease down into a kneel poolside and reach your hand into the water. "And so cold!" you say, looking up at the sky for a moment. "It'll be warmer in no time. Oh, wow, June, there's so much water, you're up to your chin!"

Junie stands up and runs to the palm tree, giggling. Her attention snags on the slide, and Eddie knows everyone present smiles when she gasps and spins on her heel to you, almost slipping onto her butt. She scrambles up again. "Mommy, it's a slide!"

"I know! Are you gonna go down? Come here, you have to let me help you up over the side and you can climb up the slide."

Just when Eddie's starting to think he couldn't like you more, you pull her up against your chest and out of the pool. You don't care that she's soaked.

"Let's go down the slide!" you say, sounding genuinely excited.

"Starting to think you should've got a bigger one, kid," Wayne says.

Eddie snorts and peels off his shirt. "Maybe," he says, shooting Wayne a secret, pleased smile, before rounding the pool. "Babe, you're getting wet, let me have her," he says to you. The daycare kids and their parents should be coming soon. He knows you'll want to look your best.

"Woah, put your shirt on, Munson, what do you think this is? A GQ shoot?"

"Like I'm some piece of meat," he murmurs with a smile, failing to help Junie navigate the inflatable steps of the slide.

You whistle playfully. Wayne howls with laughter. Eddie turns three shades of pink. He blames the sun.

Your teasing ends as soon as it's started. When Junie gets the hang of the slide he dries off and puts his shirt back on, and soon the daycare parents arrive with their tiny charges. They're quick to climb into the pool. Junie is ecstatic beyond words, laughing and giving out dripping hugs to her very favourite friends Adrien and Lucy. Adrien is a sweet, smart toddler. He manages to say, "Happy birthday, Junie!" with a small reminder.

Junie smiles until her eyes close. "Thanks," she says gleefully.

You shuffle over to Eddie. "Can you please watch all the babies so I can go get the drinks, please? And say thanks for the gifts?"

"Please please," he says, squeezing your wrist. "I think there's about seven pairs of eyes on them, but yeah, absolutely. They don't call me Eddie Water Safety Munson for nothing."

You elbow him mildly.

The only danger Eddie can see is that the kids look like they might have a fight over who gets to use the slide first. There's an impatient four year old called John who feels desperately that he should get to go first, and Lucy, Junie's favourite, does not agree. The birthday girl doesn't seem super interested in the conflict and instead plays with Adrien and a little girl named Matildhe with her rubber duckies, away from the slide.

"You don't have to stay," Eddie says to Wayne, eyes on Junie's excited chattering.

"And leave you to entertain the parents? I'm not that cruel."

Eddie doesn't know most of the parents, having only met Adrien's mom when Junie was having her hugging phase and Eddie went in for emotional support, and John's dad outside of the mechanic where Wayne works, you in the car, Junie on his hip as he dipped in to bring Wayne his forgotten lunch for a late night doing overtime. Junie had recognised John, and so Eddie had been forced to introduce himself. It had been fine, but Eddie would prefer you with him for any future clumsy introductions.

You come back down with drinks and make parental rounds, thanking each one for the small gifts they've brought. You ask about allergies and nod seriously when one parent says their boy is sensitive to aspartame, before sneaking back to Eddie's side.

"What's aspartame, handsome? Do you know? I might poison that poor baby from stupidity."

"It's a sweetener,” he says, "they put it in Jolt Cola. I think they're saying he's hyperactive."

"Oh, right… is there aspartame in the strawberry juice?"

"I'd have to check. Want me to take a look?"

"No, it's okay… I'll just… hold off on it for a minute," you say. You let your weight rest against his side. "This looks amazing. It's amazing. Thank you, Eddie."

He turns to you and pouts for a kiss. You lean up and give it to him immediately. Eddie doesn't care that there's a crowd of people to watch, he can't not give you a hug. His head locks over your shoulder, and he squeezes you tightly.

"Don't worry, I'm still watching her," he says before you can wriggle out of his arms.

"Okay," you say, your face flopped into the juncture of his neck. "Thank you double. I don't deserve you."

"Yes you do. You deserve a whole lot more," Eddie says, thinking about the houses by the elementary school, and how lonely you can get, and the feeling of your hands as you wash soap suds out of his hair. He hugs you hard and pulls you toward him, your heels lifting off of the ground just slightly. "But this is a start, right?"

"I wouldn't call this a start," you say, pulling away from him. Your face is lined with affection. “This is better.”

You turn around, sliding firmly under his arm, and scan the pool for your girl. Junie's standing now, offering handfuls of water to Lucy, who takes them and tips them over her head. Every time water runs down her face she laughs, and Junie hurries to get her another handful.

"I think Steve said he was gonna come by," Eddie says. "That cool?"

"Sure, the more the merrier. What about Robin?"

"She can't, she's training the new video store recruit. She said Steve has her gift, though."

You shake your head and click your tongue, "Tsk, they didn't have to get her anything."

"They wanted to. Steve actually enjoyed it, I think. He's kind of desperate to be a dad, you know? He's dating this girl from Anderson but she's in college and they're not settling down yet. You know, I never thought that I'd– that I would end up settling down before him."

"Are you?" you ask softly.

He's quiet for longer than he means to be, watching as Junie gets her go on the slide. She barrels down into the water and screeches, overjoyed.

"I'm not asking you to," you say, "I wouldn't ever ask you to, I mean, you don't–"

"Hey, hey, wait. Wait a second." He tears his gaze from the pool to meet your eyes. "I'm settling down. I am. I want to. I want to be with you, and I want to look after you. I love doing it. This," —he gestures around your backyard— "is what I want. I want a ton of other things and I'm not giving up on them, I wanna make music, and get a job that pays better, but I want to do those things with you. You and Juniper."

"I'll look after you, too," you say.

He kisses the skin before your ear. "You already do," he says quietly.

There's a small gap in your conversation. Eddie takes a sweep of the yard. Wayne looks content if a little bored in the sun, arms crossed across his chest and Teddy bear sat beside him. Junie's talking animatedly from inside of the pool to one of the parents as they rub sun cream into their own child's arms. The stray cat who sometimes sleeps under the porch noses at a half sandwich on the picnic blanket. Eddie's sweating in the heat, and it is so, so loud, but he reckons it's a damn good party.

You stroke a big wad of curls behind his shoulder, a smaller strand behind his ear.

"I love you," you say tentatively.

Eddie laughs but closes his mouth, the sound more of a hum, and leans back so you can cup his cheek. "I love you, too," he says, "you know that." He confessed it plainly enough only a week ago, lying in the grass with you, your cheek over his heart.

"Good," you say, looking like you might keel over. "I was really scared to tell you."

"I was scared to tell you too. That's the fun part, for sure. This is terrifying."

"Terrifying," you second.

"And awesome."

"So awesome," you murmur.

Eddie peels your hand from his cheek and spins you around. You move slowly but let him do as he pleases. Your lashes kiss in the corners as you smile, as you pause in your spin to squeeze his fingers tenderly.

"Munson!" Steve calls, though he blinks when he sees the crowd of people he technically works for amassed poolside. He's only been with Cork Kids for a few days. "Oh, hello."

"Steve!" Junie cries, throwing herself at the wall of the pool. "Hello! Good morning!"

"Hiya, Junie," he says.

"Good to see you, son," Wayne says, extremely amused.

"Come swim, Mr. Steve!" one of the kids calls.

"Gonna save him?" you ask Eddie.

"Not a chance."

"Steve!" Junie yells again, "Hello!"

Steve understands that he's not going to get out of it, clearly, because he crosses the yard and kneels down in the wet grass by the pool. "Hi guys. Are you having fun?"

The kids all cheer. Steve gets splashed in the process.

—

Children's birthday parties are much shorter than you thought they'd be. The children, in different states of tiredness, are wrangled into towel ponchos and shepherded into cars, each with a slice of cake wrapped in a paper towel and a heartfelt, "Thank you so much for coming."

Steve, exhausted, is slumped on the couch in your trailer with a cold can of coke pressed to his forehead and a borrowed pair of Eddie's sweatpants as well as a black and red Metallica shirt that wildy changes the young man's appearance. Junie giggles, sitting with Mr. Munson —call me Wayne, kid, I'm begging you— at the kitchen table.

"Not like that, Way!" Junie says, trying to coach him through eating a powdered sugar donut.

"I don't know how else I'm supposed to be eating it." He sounds as adoring of her as you often feel, forgiving her mispronunciation.

"Babe, where do you want these?"

You finish the cup you'd been washing and sidle to the back door. Eddie's holding the towels you'd brought out for the parents to sit on. Most are wet from the kids climbing in and out of the pool, and all of them are plastered in grass.

"Leave them there, I'll put them straight in the washing machine."

Eddie climbs up the steps, arms full to bursting. "Open the door for me."

You open the washing machine and Eddie tucks them all inside. Every clean towel you had has been muddied and you wouldn't care, but Eddie looks like he needs a shower, and you probably look similar. You stop him before he can go back outside.

"What?" he asks.

You twist your hand into his shirt and pull him in. "Two seconds, you have–" You tilt his head to the side and rub at a funny splotch on his cheek. It spreads but doesn't budge.

"If you lick your thumb, we're breaking up."

You go on tiptoes. "We can't break up, 'cos you love me," you whisper, not even smug. "And I love you."

"That's pretty good logic," he says, smirking, "but it won't stop me."

"Ew," Steve sing-songs, pulling out a chair next to Junie as he cracks open his coke. "That's super gross. And in front of your family. Yuck."

"We didn't so much as kiss," Eddie says.

"No, you're just in love. Much worse."

Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls out the last chair. You assume he'll sit, but he backtracks, grabbing you by the shoulders and sitting you down. "Sit," he commands.

"I don't think I have much choice."

Junie smiles at you from across the table, changed into dry fleece pyjamas to fight any possible chill. You smile back, propping your chin on your hand.

Powdered sugar coats her cheeks. "Donut, mommy?"

"Oh, yes please," you say, holding out your hand.

She gives you a donut like she's worried you're about to collapse from hunger, nearly catapulting it across the table. You pick it up and take an indulgent bite.

"Did you want one?" you ask Steve, hand in front of your mouth.

"I think I've had enough," he says, queasy.

Junie must have force fed him half the cupcake platter. Her viewing him as a nemesis was short-lived.

"Eddie?" Junie asks. "Donuts." She babbles something indistinguishable.

"No thanks, junebug."

Junie hugs the bag of donuts close to her chest, then, seemingly glad that everyone is done sharing.

"Did you cover the pool?" Wayne asks.

"Yes sir, no cat claws will be getting at that one."

"You'd be surprised what you can fix with duct tape," Steve says.

"Does that really work?" Eddie asks.

It's sweet seeing Eddie around his friend. You resolve to ask if it can happen more often —even if you're not there to see it, knowing he's having a good time would make you happy. You've been selfish with him since you met him, and you can't say you're too sorry because of how it ended up, but you can try to make up for it now.

He and Steve get along in a very specific way, wherein Eddie says suggestive things and Steve pretends to hate his guts, and then one or both of them forgets the facade and they talk like normal friends.

"I got from St. Louis to Evansville with duct tape over a puncture."

"That sounds amazingly dangerous."

"I survived, didn't I?" Steve asks.

"By the skin of your teeth."

"You weren't even there!"

You finish your sugary donut and try to earn Junie's attention. She's pulling apart a donut of her own in her hands and licking the jelly off of her fingers, looking confused and delighted at once. She's going to be thrilled when she realises there are chocolate filled ones after that.

"Is that nice, my love?" you ask.

"Mom, it's strawby jelly," she says. "Strawby strawby strawby."

She's been chatty today. "Strawberry, huh? Do you like that? It looks yummy."

Junie offers you a squashed square. Some people would be disgusted at the mauled goods. You take it and eat it, 'cos her hands should be clean, you washed them yourself a half hour ago before she started on the treats. The strawberry jam is as fake as they can make it, which is probably great for Junie but sucks for you.

You're starting to stand when a big cup of water gets placed in front of you, held by a familiar hand. You love his stupid hands, his knuckles and his short nails and the tiny white hairs, everything about them. More now as they deliver your saving grace.

"How'd you know?" you ask Eddie, turning in your seat as you pick up the glass.

"I tried one earlier, I knew you wouldn't like it."

"How could you possibly know that?"

He taps the tip of his nose.

"I should be heading home," Wayne says.

"You don't want to stay for dinner?" you ask, sitting up properly.

"No, kid, I'm alright."

"He's meeting his friends at the bar," Eddie says, "don't let him fool you."

"We haven't kept you, have we? I'm sorry," you say.

"No, you didn't keep me. I had a great time, best kids party ever," Wayne says, standing up. He leans down to meet Junie's eyes. "Happy birthday, little miss. Make sure you plant one on your mom, huh? It's been a long day."

You don't think she gets his drift but she nods at his solid eye contact, and that's good enough for him. Wayne claps Eddie on the shoulder and they walk off to the front door. Eddie follows him down the steps as they trade goodbyes.

"I should get going too," Steve says.

"Are you sure?" you ask, frowning. "If you want to stay for dinner, that's no problem. I don't know what Eddie's told you but I'm a good cook, I promise. We're gonna have Junie's favourite, it's fresh chicken noodle with stelline, the little stars."

Steve wavers, "I-"

"If you don't have anywhere to be tonight, it's really no trouble. I'd love to have you, I'm sure Eddie would too."

"Yeah, okay. If you're sure," he says, scratching a hand through his hair.

Junie jumps down off of her chair with impressive gusto and crawls under the table to your thighs. She leaves sugary fingerprints behind as she emerges, patting your legs until you're forced to help her up. She's mumbling something. Junie talks all the time, but what counts for actual words is another story.

"What are you saying?" you ask, pulling her legs out from under her so she doesn't hurt her knees.

She babbles. Her face has all the intent of someone speaking understandable language, to the point where you feel bad for not getting it.

"Baby talk doesn't get easier?" Steve asks.

"I mean… she's mine. I understand her a lot more than Eddie does, but half the time she might as well be speaking Sindarin."

You pause, mouth open. Steve licks his lips.

"Is that–"

"From Lord of the Rings, yeah. We've been reading it together."

"It's worse than I thought. You should really come out with us sometime, have conversations with people who aren't trying to brainwash you," Steve jokes.

Junie hums, pleased at something invisible, and starts pulling your sleeve down over your hand. You nod toward her. "I can't, really. I always have her."

"You could bring her with you. I wouldn't care, and Robin wouldn't either. We have a couple other friends who'd love you; Jonathan, he's a photograph developer for the post, and he's kind of quiet but he's one of those undercover nerds, like you."

"Stop flirting with my girl," Eddie says, closing the door behind him.

"She's actually talking like you and the idiots." Steve looks at you from the corner of his eyes. "No offence."

"Full offence," you say sweetly, leaning down to give Junie a kiss. "We're offended, aren't we? Mister Steve's name-calling."

Junie looks up, smiles at Steve like a traitor, and then spots Eddie's return. "Up," she says, "up, please."

Eddie takes her. She gives him a gross sticky kiss on the cheek and he eats it up. "What do you want, then, birthday girl?"

She pops her lips but doesn't say. Eddie carries her to the fridge and opens the freezer, sorting through the amassed collection of frozen treats. There's a range of popsicles and ice cream sandwiches hiding between mini pizzas and a bunch of ready-made pasta you got on sale.

She accepts a popsicle and then insists on a second. Eddie glances at you.

"It's her birthday," you say.

"What happens tomorrow? When she expects another round of treats?" Steve asks.

"I pop a double dose of Tylenol–"

"She won't be doing that," Eddie says.

"I take two Tylenol," you amend, "and we try to explain. It's worth it even if she is a demon tomorrow. You've had a good day, right?" You smile at June and her two popsicles, one fist cherry pink and the other lime green.

"She's had the best day ever," Eddie says, and then, a reflection of yourself if you've ever seen it, he kisses her forehead five times in a row.

"Oh, god save her," Steve says.

You stand up to make dinner. Steve helps, and Eddie promises to join you in a moment but never gets around to it, preoccupied by Junie's turbulent popsicle eating and the subsequent rainbow stains on your couch cushions. He scrubs at them with a washcloth and Steve, helpful but unnecessary, stands at your side having chopped all there was to be chopped.

"You can come around whenever," you say, wondering if that's too far.

"That's generous. You don't really want me here that often," he says, chuckling.

You dip your pinky finger in the saucepan to gauge the heat. It's not hot enough to add the pasta stars yet

"Steve, this might shock you, but I actually like having company. It was just me and Junie for so, so long, and I love her, but–" You stir the soup with a wooden spoon rather than continue whatever embarrassing thing your heart had compelled you to verbalise. "I missed having real conversations." You laugh. "I've never been as lucky as when Eddie decided he didn't mind being around me."

"It's worse than that. He minds not being around you. We had him over for dinner, yeah? Two weeks ago? He started rubbing it in my face that he met you first." Steve crosses his arms. "You're pretty, but I have a girlfriend, and he knows that."

"What's she like?" you ask.

"She's amazing. I keep worrying she'll realise that I'm a total loser." He clears his throat. "I mean, I'm a catch, obviously. But no, you'd like her. She'd like you."

"Think so?"

"One hundred percent."

"Maybe we should go on a double date like in the movies."

"Stevie'd like that," Eddie calls. "He's been trying to get me on a date with him for years."

"You wish, Munson."

"Yes I do," he sing-songs.

Junie throws a teddy at him and he drops to the floor like he's passed out. She giggles and climbs on top of him. He oofs but doesn't throw her off, maintaining his act until she sits on top of his chest and starts poking his cheeks. His tongue lolls out of his mouth.

"Well, you can't have my boyfriend, but you can have the best chicken soup ever if you pass me the stelline from the cabinet."

You think Steve might be a great friend. He's funny, he's quick-witted, and he's bitchy but not mean. He and Eddie get physically aggressive with each other when he asks for a second serving, because She's not your servant, Harrington and I was asking permission, you idiot, but it's definitely more friendly than nasty.

When Steve does get going it's later than any of you realised. He says goodbye with varying levels of niceness. You get a heartfelt thank you for the meal and compliments on the party, Eddie gets a hug with a shoulder pat and then an insult that actually worries you until you hear him laughing, and Junie gets a hesitant hug. Junie wants the hug desperately, and Steve isn't used to her yet, but when she gets her arms around his neck he rubs her little shoulders like a pro.

"How did you ever land him?" you ask after his car has pulled away.

Eddie giggles like a kid, "That's so offensive."

"He's a sweetheart…" You turn to him. "You're a sweetheart, what am I saying?"

"What are you saying?"

You lean against his chest. Eddie looks at you warmly enough that it makes you feel you're gorgeous —something in his smile, maybe, that says he's thinking a nice thought. When you lean on him it grows more obvious. His lips part, his eyes on yours.

"You're so fucking pretty.” Your smile is too much like a smirk and yet it doesn't put him off. "I'm serious," he says, hands clasped at the small of your back.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He steals a soft kiss. "Very welcome." He steals another.

You're putty, melting, and you'd care but his hands are loving. He slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and presses his rough palm to your back. You rub your cheek against his chest and feel it like a siren in your head: I'm lucky. How'd I get so lucky?

"Yeah!" Junie shouts, jumping on the couch and almost falling flat on her face. "Kiss kiss," she says, "Mommy!"

"Demanding, insatiable pest," Eddie says.

"Don't you dare talk about my love like that," you scold.

"I meant you," he says, grinning at a well-landed joke. "C'mere, let's have a good birthday cuddle before mommy's shower."

"You're showering first," you say.

"I thought you liked it when I smell gross?"

"You smell like wet grass, but that's not why. You should go first 'cos the water won't be hot by the second one."

Eddie gets gooey. "I'm weird about you. Keep being like this and I'll get weirder. You couldn't cope with that and neither could I."

"Not even," you say.

"Kiss please," Junie insists, still jumping.

You and Eddie turn to her at the same time. Her eyes widen as though she knows what's about to happen, but she doesn't care. She's had the best day ever. Woke up with tickles, praised and petted and cuddled, she's bounced from a birthday breakfast of waffles and more syrup than her baby teeth should be able to withstand to TV with stovetop popcorn and her favourite movie. She sang, she preened under your fingers in her hair, and played in the pool until her legs turned to jelly. She blew out all her candles in one breath (aided, secretly, by Eddie behind her as you held the cake). She ate enough donuts to down a horse. And now, to end it all, she's gonna get the world's best hug.

"Ready?" Eddie asks dramatically. "Three, two…"

You reach for her at the same time, laughing before you've so much as set a hand on her fleece-covered shoulders.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Thank you soooo much for reading! I hope that you enjoyed. Writing is a labour of love but sharing it is terrifying so if you enjoyed this, please let me know, or consider reblogging. It makes a big difference! ♡ I really missed writing for them! Please forgive sometimes the formatting of my paragraphs being odd, I had to cut this down to fit it all into one post!

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