#shadow has two dads etc
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what are ur thoughts on the ‘almost no parents alive/around’ lore? is it just convenient to have them out of the way to let teenagers and kids save the world… or is there deeper lore? or a happy medium of both? 👀
i don't think sega honestly intended for it to be involved in lore or whatever. there was not worldbuilding in mind with that. since the sonic games are aimed at tween audiences, who want to see themselves portrayed as confident and able to take on grand adventures, because they're just mini adults and want to be treated as such, it of course makes sense not to have a bunch of boring adults bogging down their adventure.
however lore wise they drive me bonkers
there's two ways i like to interpret it and that either the mobian society operates like pokemon or sonic and his friends are the insane outliers. like either its super common for kids to just wander around unsupervised, going on fun adventures, like in pokemon, or its NOT the norm but sonic and his alien/dimensional counterpart/future/god friends are just. exceptions. like okay technically amy should not be renting her own apartment however she has been involved in numerous plots to stop eggman from basically turning the world into a giant pollutated wasteland and/or amusement park. so sure. also who's going to be the bastard that tries to take the kid who fights gods and robots for fun to like, an orphanage. nope.
i am VERY interested in the parents they do mention. like vanilla. i want her lore so badly and DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON JET"S FATHER. literally everything about the babylons drives me insane but thinking about the generation right before jet *shakes*. also the fact that they gave rouge a mom is so fucking funny even if she's only mentioned. i love it so much.
i think a lot of them not having parents makes sense, anyway. what parent in their right mind is letting their kids go kill god for fun.
anyway i don't have like super cohesive thoughts on this concept but the few parents we've seen in the sonic universe do interest me greatly.... especially the ones that are still obviously in the picture.
#i think sonic tails and knuckles don't have parrents#orphaned and the like#whereas i think amy DOES still have parents she just ran away from them to chase after sonic and help save the world#silver was also orphaned#shadow has two dads etc#eggman is an interesting scenario because i think he was ophaned#but i rather like the idea he wasnt. his parents were just real fucked up.#which like#if YOU were the kid of a disgraced scientist who went insane and had to be put down by the us government uhm. you might have some issues.#and then BOOM generational trauama and the cycle of tryingt o outlive the legacy of gerald begins. oopsie.#well anyway.#master emerald brothel
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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
part one | part two | part three | part four
summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. queue smiley face oatmeal, grossly misused power tools, desserts on the living room floor, a haircut, and an abundance of nerd metaphors [15k]
warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie ends up being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general loneliness, mentions of a shitty/traumatic pregnancy, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, you wash eddie's hair!!!! this was low-key requested by anon
𓆩❤︎𓆪
Eddie opens the door and finds a little girl on the steps of his house. Little girl feels generous – she's barely more than a baby. In a set of tiny matching pajamas and white socks stained green from the morning grass, she looks up at him with wide, sad eyes.
"Hey," he says carefully. "Hey, sweetheart."
"Good morning," she says, though it comes out blurry.
"Good morning," he repeats with a breathless laugh, instantly endeared.
He curls his hand around the railing and squats down. She really is very cute and obviously well looked after, although he realises upon closer inspection that she's been crying.
"Where's your mommy?" Eddie feels silly as he asks, but what else do you say when you find kids by themselves?
He's not really expecting her to know the answer. She pouts her small mouth and Eddie freezes up.
"Mommy.” Her breath quivers.
"Don't cry," he says very gently.
It doesn't work, obviously, and she starts whimpering in a way that turns Eddie's heart entirely.
"Let's find mommy, okay? Do you wanna do that? Wanna come and find mommy with me?"
"Yes," she says, though it quickly draws up into a sharp cry.
Eddie treks down the stairs and turns back, waiting. The little girl looks down at the steps and her eyebrows furrow as she places one foot after the other, looking like her socks are stuck to a fly trap.
He holds his hand out. "You got it," he says encouragingly, wiggling his fingers.
Her relief is palpable. Her brows smooth as she takes his hand, so small he can cover her entire palm with the meat of his thumb. She wobbles down the steps and then hesitates at the damp ground awaiting.
Eddie drops his gaze to her wet feet.
She looks up at him. Eddie doesn't think she means to but her eyes are pleading,and he's already moving to pick her up when she lifts her arms into the air.
She's heavier than he anticipates. He quickly gets used to the weight, shifting her against his side with his arm under her butt, her damp foot digging into his abdomen. She rests one hand on his shoulder and the other reaches for his hair. He can't help smiling at her as she pets the dark mess, hand clumsy but well-intentioned.
He walks down past the van and onto dark asphalt, looking up and down the road to see if anyone's around. He figures she has to be a trailer park kid – she can't have walked very far, and she'd been waiting outside. She must've gotten mixed up and thought his trailer was her own, which hopefully means her mom lives close.
The steps up into his trailer are on the right side. Eddie guesses she's come from the right. It's not a great assumption — he's grasping at straws.
"What's your name?" he asks.
She's taken a lock of his hair into her hands. Eddie worries for a second that she's going to try eating it but she only waves it around, looking pleased.
"I'm Eddie."
"Dee," she says.
"Almost. Eh-dee," he spells out, again not actually expecting her to understand what he's saying. He's unsure about kids her age – he's unsure what age she even is.
She babbles something unintelligible and Eddie hikes her higher up his chest. He strides out of the cool shadow and blinks, shielding his eyes against the yellow-white glare of sunshine. The little girl hides her face in his hair.
He hasn't walked very far when he sees you behind the trailer three doors down, pinning clothes that look the same size as the girl's pajamas to a clothesline with unhurried hands. The front door is wide open.
"Your poor mommy," he murmurs as he approaches, "out here doing the laundry by herself and you're halfway to Indianapolis. Musta got turned around, huh?"
You drop a small light blue dress on the floor and cuss just loud enough for Eddie to hear it. You pick it up fast and brush it down, looking over the fabric worriedly.
Eddie cuts over soft grass, giving the baby's waist a pat and holding her ears away from his mouth as he raises his voice. "Hey, is this your kid?" he asks.
You flinch toward him and your eyes go wide – wide, your lips parting and your brows jumping down like you might start yelling.
You're really fucking pretty.
Eddie’s quick to placate you. "She was sitting on my front steps."
You still don't look very happy though your suspicion melds to confusion and then a stab of too-late worry. You rush towards them and Eddie turns his body to encourage the girl's gaze to you. His chest warms when she perks up.
She wriggles in his arms impatiently and Eddie's surprised by how quickly she starts to cry, reaching out for you with insistent grabbing hands as he passes her over.
"It's okay," you say softly, tucking her into your chest.
The difference in body language is unmissable. Where she'd been restless (though more than pleasant) in Eddie's arms, she completely melts into yours. Her little face presses into your neck and her legs curl up. You pat her butt soothingly. "It's okay, baby. Where have you been?" You look up at him for an answer with concern lining your pretty features.
"I'm only three down," he says.
"Oh… Thank you," you say roughly.
Your gratitude is unnecessary. "That's okay. She's real sweet. I opened the door and the first thing she said was, 'good morning,'" he recalls with an easy smile.
Joy lightens your entire face. He feels his breath catch in his throat.
"She did? She said that?"
"Yeah, she did.” He tries not to sound as confused as he feels.
Your eyes close with the force of your smile. You encourages your toddler’s face back and drop your chin to plant kisses all over her tiny cheeks. Eddie feels something foreign yawning in his chest as she starts to laugh, a tinkling sound that's sugar sweet.
He scratches his neck and pretends to look over his shoulder, tamping his smile back into a neutral expression.
"She's having trouble talking," you say, lifting your head as the baby's giggles taper off. "She can talk, she says 'mommy' all the time, but she's s'posed to be saying more 'cos she's almost two and I know she can do it, she's so smart, but-" You cut yourself off and laugh all breathless and sheepish. "Sugar, I'm sorry. I mean- Sorry. Thank you," it almost bursts from you, "for bringing her back. I don't know…"
"You just moved in, right?" You nod. "The lock on the front door- they're all exactly the same, you just gotta shake it and it unlocks. Even someone small as her can could get it open with enough determination."
"She can be very determined," you say ruefully, voice hushed. You're still patting her butt, swaying her from side to side. Eddie's in awe at how quickly she's settled, her button features crumpled by a big yawn. "Always gets what she wants."
"I bet she does, she's a total heartbreaker."
You take a step towards him, your beat up sneakers half a foot from his converse. "She can't help it, she was born this pretty," you say. He loves how braggy you sound.
"I can see where she gets it."
As soon as he says it he wishes he could take it back. Not because he doesn't think it's true – you're really something else – but because he doesn't want to creep you out.
Luckily, he's rewarded for his bravery by another beaming smile, your words warm as you tell him, "They said she was the prettiest baby they'd seen in twenty years up in Eskenazi general."
The name pricks his ears. "You're from Indianapolis?"
"Kind of." You tilt your head to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."
"Eddie." He could applaud himself on how normal he sounds and how not normal he feels.
"Eddie, I'm Y/N. D'you wanna come in for coffee? Or I can make you some breakfast? To say thank you for taking care of my Junie."
"Junie," he repeats, surprised.
You shift from foot to foot. "She's a June baby. And she's getting kind of heavy these days, so. Breakfast?"
He follows you up the steps and through the back door.
"You can leave it open," you say over your shoulder.
He catches an eyeful of your bathroom, an organised chaos that smells intoxicating, the rich scent of jasmine heavy in the humidity chased by something softer. Talcum powder, he thinks.
You murmur something to Junie too quiet to hear and she rouses from her dozing, grizzling weakly.
"It's breakfast time! Is that what you tried to come and find me for, some breakfast? So impatient," you scold her lightly, smiling all the while as you set her into a bright blue high chair with a big yellow duck with orange flippers printed on the cushioning.
You squeeze one of her feet and frown. "Your socks are wet. Did you go swimming in the grass?"
Eddie leans against the doorway leading into the kitchen. He doesn't have any experience with kids. You make it look easy, pulling off her stained socks while she wiggles her protest and tickling the soles of her feet with the tip of your finger until she's happy again.
You turn back to him, socks clutched in your hand. "I'm gonna make oatmeal. Is that something you…"
"I'm an oatmeal fiend."
You grin and do a lap to close the front door. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee? I got milk and brown sugar."
He throws himself into the seat next to the high chair with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Brown sugar? Sweetness, you're spoiling me."
Junie laughs. Eddie pulls himself up into a proper sitting position and gawps at her exaggeratedly. "What's funny, little lady?"
She giggles some more. Eddie leans his elbow on the tray of the high chair and pretends to glare at her. "I can already tell you're trouble."
"She likes you."
"Yeah?" he asks, looking at you over his shoulder.
You're half obscured by cabinets as you poke your head out, an open sack of rolled oats in one hand and a small pan in the other. You nod happily and move to the sink. He can hear the sound of the faucet and the burner clicking on, the saucepan sliding over the stovetop.
"I like you," he says to Junie quietly, rapping his knuckles on the tray. "But don't tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation."
"So, uh, how long have you lived here?" you call, almost smothered by the rushing sound of oats tipping into hot water.
Junie makes a funny face like she might sneeze. Eddie watches. "Since I was a kid." He's smiling as he talks, amazed when Junie starts to smile back. He nods his head gently up and down to encourage her. "Too long. Not that it's not nice here."
Junie looks like she agrees.
"For sure, but.. not always where you picture yourself," you say tentatively.
He hums his agreement. "Whatever though, right? A roof is a roof. Even when the roof is made of cardboard and corrugated metal. I mean, all things considered, this is a well kept vessel."
He's not just trying to make you feel better – you really are making a go of it. There's not nearly as much clutter or decoration as his own home but it's twice as clean and every surface brags a clear affection – you fucking love your daughter. There's a framed photo of her as she looks now at the mantle without a single fingerprint on the glass, baby photos in smaller frames hang on the wall.
Smallest of all, a photo of the two of you together. Your hands on her shoulders, your lips and nose pressed to her forehead. You're not looking at the camera, but Junie is, and she's exuberant.
Toys, though few, are arranged neatly under the TV. It's really the type of clean that takes hours. He wonders how you'd ever make time for it.
"You got a job?"
"Yeah, I'm waitressing at Benny's?" You say it like a question. "The burger place?"
"Yeah, I know the one. Randolph Lane, near the laundromat. Does Junie go with you?" he asks. He cooes Junie's name and feels very happy when the girl in question smiles some more, reaching out with her hands. Eddie offers up the same palm she'd taken before and lets her squeeze his fingers in a surprisingly tight grip. "She looks like a working girl."
"Benny said I could bring her with me until she starts daycare next week, so she really is a working girl." You giggle madly and Junie loves the sound, her chubby cheeks rounding as she smiles.
"I knew it," Eddie whispers conspiringly. "You have the face for it."
Junie laughs like something is truly hysterical and Eddie can't believe it, squeezing the small girl's smaller fingers in his and waving their joined hands together.
"She really likes you," you say, closer now.
You set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He pulls his hand from Junie's and moves the hot mug away from the high chair though she'd never be able to reach it as you set your own mug and a pint of milk half-full across from him, the brown sugar you'd promised in a pink and orange ceramic dish with a lid that clinks as he pulls it off.
You double back into the kitchen. This time you bring a baby bottle full of what he guesses is diluted juice and two teaspoons, handing him one with a quiet, "For you."
"Why thank you," he drawls.
He spoons a generous hill of crumbly brown sugar into his cup and swirls.
"The oatmeal needs to soften. Is there anything you want with it? I've got lots of options," you tell him, pouring milk into your own mug. When you're done you and Eddie swap.
He thinks maybe you sound a little nervous and wonders if he's the first neighbour you've met. Or maybe you're still freaked out about Junie.
He raises his eyebrows but doesn't look at you as he splashes milk into the dark recesses of his coffee, watching as it bursts back up to the surface and turns the drink a more acceptable brown. "What do you usually have?"
"Junie gets peanut butter and blueberries."
He tilts his head toward his shoulder just slightly and plants his elbows on the table, the rim of his mug held in tenuous fingertips.
"What do you get?" he asks, thinking that if the baby gets such a sweet treat you must get something equally impressive. He thinks of raspberries and chia seeds, flakey sea salt and bitter dark chocolate.
You blink. "What?"
"What do you have, on your oatmeal?" He punctuates his question with a sip.
"Salt. Sometimes raisins."
You make a nice cup of coffee. Eddie holds it in both hands and leans into the table. "That's it?"
You shrug. Junie starts to whimper about something Eddie doesn't understand. You reach out to hold her hand. "She loves blueberries. Don't you, Junie?"
"Blue," Junie says.
You're smiling as you take another small spoonful of brown sugar. You lick the tip of your finger and dip it into the well of the spoon until a few grains are sticking to you and hold it up to Junie's lips. "She loves sugar, too, but toddlers aren't s'posed to have it. Or so they say." You smile as she sucks the sugar off before wiping your spit wet finger in your pants.
Daughter appeased for a moment, you hold your chin in your palm and turn your attention to him. "Where do you work?"
He imagines this is how a plant feels when the sun comes out. "The Hideout, for now. I'm a very essential and irreplaceable bus boy." He nods very seriously.
"What's after?"
"Music."
Your lips curl into an interested smile. "Music? You a singer?"
"I have a great set of windpipes," he says agreeably, grinning. "But I'm a guitarist."
"And you're in a band?"
"I- I was. Yeah, we were good, too, but everybody graduated and our drummer skipped town. I just sub rhythm guitar for whoever wants me to."
"At the Hideout?"
"At the Hideout." He decides on his next words carefully. You could come see me play. Weak. You're welcome to come see it for yourself. Too strong? You're welcome to come by one night. Bring Junie.
He's not asking you on a date; he's a new acquaintance extending an invitation for you to get out and see a new place. That's all it is.
He opens his mouth to try and suddenly there's a loud clattering. Eddie flinches, blinks, finds that Junie has thrown her bottle of juice across the room.
Eddie waits for you to maybe tell her off like some of the mom's he's seen at Bradley's. A glare, a hissing remark to be good.
You reach over and your shirt rides up your back. Eddie averts his gaze guiltily.
You put the bottle back on the tray, giving him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Junie has recently discovered that every time she drops something I'll pick it up for her."
"Smart Junie."
The bottle falls to the floor again. "She's a genius." You don’t sound entirely pleased, picking the bottle up again and holding it just out of Junie's reach. You shake it up and down. "S'juice. You like juice," you try to reason with her.
Junie reaches for it. You purse your lips. "Be good," you say softly.
Junie takes the bottle and shakes it.
It's a small victory and still softens every feature. Your eyes squint, your bottom lip juts out a touch, your nostrils flare with a pleased inhale.
"Thanks, junebug."
"Tanks," Junie says.
"Thanks," you repeat, bubbly baby talk. "Thanks. Say thanks, Junie."
Eddie watches you encourage her over his coffee. It's quiet, peaceful here in a way nowhere else in his life has ever been besides quiet Sunday mornings with his Uncle. There's only the sound of the gas stovetop burning and your happy, patient voice.
Junie says "Tanks," a couple more times. You don't give up. When she finally says something that sounds almost like a "Thanks," you whip your gaze to his.
"Did you hear that?" you ask. Your pride is evident.
He puts down his half empty mug. "She said it."
"She said it," you repeat, your shoulders moving in the tiniest happy dance he's ever seen. You stand up and take her face into delicate hands. "She's my smarty pants. Aren't you, baby?"
You dot a kiss over her head and head back into the kitchenette.
"Tanks," Junie says animatedly, running on an affection high. She accidentally knocks her bottle over.
"Thanks, Junie," Eddie corrects, righting it.
He finds it easier to baby talk than he imagined. Being nice to little kids – that's easy. Especially as he gets older. When they hit the pre-teen mark is when he starts to steer clear, but even then he can't help doting on them sometimes. Like his club – idiots, annoying idiots, but his annoying idiots. He doesn't hold back with them. He doesn't feel like he's holding back now, either, it's just different.
Baby's want love. Care and affection.
And to pull Eddie's hair, apparently.
Junie's reaching over the gap with a fierce look on her face. Eddie pulls his chair closer and decides to let her try it out. She hadn't given him any reason to worry before, and she doesn't now as she takes a chunk of his hair into her hand. She pulls very gently, likely more that her fingers have gotten caught in his messy curls than any maliciousness.
"What's your fascination with my hair?" he asks her.
In her own home Junie's very noisy. When he'd found her outside she hadn't done much besides whimper weakly. Now, she's a riot of gurgling and humming.
"Are you a singer, Junie?" he asks.
"She sings all the time! She loves the Muppet Babies on TV, but I- uh, I haven't been able to actually get cable, yet. But when I get paid next week…" You come back into view with two bowls in hand. "She'll be in her oils."
Eddie says thanks as you put a bowl down in front of him. There's a smiley face there made up of berries with banana slices for eyes. He feels something crawling up his throat and has no idea what it is, and then something completely different when he sees your own bowl, a stretch of plain oatmeal with no delicious adornment.
You leave and quickly return with a smaller bowl, a baby spoon and a jar of peanut butter.
"Do you want some?" you ask, opening the jar to push the baby spoon inside. "I would've just put it in anyway but then I worried you were allergic."
You hand it off to Junie and she licks at it happily.
"Sure, I'll have some. Where's your smiley face?" he asks.
Your eyes widen slightly. Eddie's not academically inclined but he's never been stupid, and he sees it for what it is, something he's seen in himself and in every other poor kid who didn't bring lunch to school.
"I don't really like bananas," you say.
Whether you're lying or not isn't something he needs to know.
"Well, you're gonna have to share the blueberries with me, I can't eat this much fruit. I got a hearty diet of chips and microwave oven dinners to uphold."
Eddie shovels half of the smile into your bowl. You clutch your spoon in your hand like you want to protest, but no way is he gonna watch you miss out on nice things in your own home.
You smile and don't say anything for a while, rubbing the edge of the bowl with your spoon, your thoughts somewhere else.
Junie's food sits billowing steam in the middle of the table, which annoys the poor girl endlessly. She wiggles and murmurs and sucks at her empty spoon with a growing line between her brows.
Eddie eats and feels much better when you finally start to eat your own meal, leaning back in his chair heavily to loll his head towards Junie. "Your mom makes amazing oatmeal. You're really missing out."
You choke on a laugh and grab her spoon to load up with another small heap of peanut butter. "That is so cruel to lord over her,” you say. “I can't give it to her yet! It's scorching. She has a fragile mouth."
"I'm sure."
He picks one of his blueberries out of the bowl and offers it to Junie, who takes it slowly despite her previously rabid hunger
More oatmeal eating. Eddie ends up giving the rest of his fruit to Junie, your generous dollops of peanut butter more than enough to enjoy the oatmeal. He might argue it doesn't need any adornment at all.
You stir peanut butter into Junie's bowl and wrestle the baby spoon out of her tight grip.
It's a process to watch. You scoop up oatmeal, blow on it until you're sure it's cool, and push it into Junie's mouth efficiently. There's a method to it, the way you lift the handle of the spoon so oatmeal doesn't drip straight back out of her mouth. When it does you scrape the lip gently against her chin to catch it before it ruins her shirt.
It starts to rain. Hard not to notice, a light drizzle opens and sprays down against the windows and for a moment there's no reaction. Then, gasping, you drop Junie's bowl back onto the table in stress.
"Shit, the laundry. Are you okay to watch her please? Sorry. I'll be five seconds," you say, already heading for the back door.
"Sure.” He sounds about as startled as he feels.
The back door shushes open and your feet dip down the steps. Junie is not very pleased with her breakfast getting put on pause, her face growing as unpleasant as the weather outside.
"Mommy," she says, unhappy and loud.
Eddie doesn't think about it as he picks up her bowl. It's more a pulse of feeling than a thought. Feed her and she won't cry.
He blows on a spoonful of oatmeal with likely too much vigour.
Junie's still complaining as he holds it in front of her face. If she's surprised to be fed by somebody who isn't her mom she doesn't show it, her sticky face growing suddenly slack as she realises her oatmeal is back in play. Her lips part.
He feeds her oatmeal, does a very bad job, and tries to gather what's escaped with the spoon as Junie waves her hands around and pokes at spilled food on the white tray in front of her. By the time you come back damp and breathless with the cold chasing your heels he's successfully managed to feed her what was left of her breakfast. He's embarrassed to be caught but tries not to show it.
"You okay?" he asks, looking you up and down amicably.
"S'only a little rain." You push the laundry basket onto the sofa and smile sheepishly. "You didn't have to do that."
"And have the precious little lady starve?"
"Starve!" you repeat, a feigned incredulousness to your tone.
"She was giving me the puppy dog's," he says, shrugging as he takes the spoon out of Junie's wet fingers.
She whines for a second at his robbery but seems to realise she's full, picking her juice back up to shake some more.
You exhale through an open-mouthed smile.
"Thank you. She's gonna love you now, she loves anyone who gives her food. She's a real cadge at the diner. Never seen so much free cherry pie in my life," you remark, turning to what looks like your diaper station. You wade through a mess of things he doesn't recognise and pull out a packet of baby wipes.
"And her mom? Is her affection so easily garnered?"
"Takes more than a cherry pie to win me over," you joke, sitting down in your chair in front of the high chair with a soft sigh. You pull out one of the wipes and take Junie's wrists into your hand, wiping her fingers clean methodically. "I need at least a squirt of whipped cream on top before I consider any fondness."
He chuckles and you laugh too. It's short-lived, your lips pursed as you wipe Junie's face clean. She hates every second of it, writhing in her chair like she's being tortured as you clean a mess of brown and blue from her round chin.
"Sorry, I'm sorry. Done, done," you say, holding your hands up in surrender.
She pouts.
"Don't be like that," you scold her mildly. "Look how lovely and clean you are now! Eddie can see how pretty you look again."
You slide your hands under her armpits and pull her out of the highchair, groaning.
"Oh, there you go. Where's Mr. Bear gone, baby? You can play sticky bricks with him so I can get ready for work."
Work. Work. Where Eddie was going. Where Eddie is very likely supposed to be. He checks the time and his eyes flare, standing up abruptly. You turn toward him with Junie anchored on your hip, both wearing matching expressions of curiosity.
"Sh-“ Don’t swear around babies. “I'm sorry, I got somewhere to be that I totally spaced on."
You blink. "That's okay."
"It was sick to meet you," he says.
You blink some more and walk to the front door, pulling it open as an understanding smile curls your lips. "Super 'sick,'" you say, bemused. "Thank you so much for bringing Junie back. Really, I mean, if anything ever happened to her." You don't finish because it's obvious, your bright tone underlain with a burning fear.
He walks sideways out of the door and down one step, knowing he's super fucking late but not caring too much as he says, "Listen, I can bring you a deadbolt."
"You could?"
"Sure thing. Make sure this little lady," and he says it chidingly, directing his gaze at Junie who goes all shy and smiley from the attention, "doesn't go on anymore morning adventures. Especially without her shoes."
"That would be… that would be awesome, Eddie. Thank you."
He waves his hand and descends the last of the steps. "I'll come around tomorrow?"
It's a Saturday today. He's not surprised that you're both working the weekend, but he is surprised that you're working Sunday too when you say, "Would after five be okay?"
"That's more than okay. Bye, trouble," he says to Junie, bringing a hand up to shield his hair from the drizzling rain.
You look lovely on the stoop, fresh-faced and in your lounge clothes. You tug Junie up your chest and take her hand into yours. "Say 'bye', Junie," you tell her, waving her hand. "Bye! Bye-bye, Eddie."
"Bye Junie!" he calls, waving at the little girl with great fervour.
"Bye!" Junie calls back.
You both grin.
-
You're super tired from work and exhausted from an upset daughter. Even now Junie fusses. She hasn't been getting her naps because you can't set her down anywhere that isn't the wooden high chair in Benny's restaurant, which is months of a routine disrupted.
You're not mad at her – the opposite, you feel awful to mess her up like this, awful that she's so upset. Trying your very best to calm her down, you're swaying her from side to side in the middle of your messy living room with your hand patting a steady rhythm into the narrow breadth of her back.
"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry. You'll get your nap tomorrow, I promise," you say, trying for softness and missing, desperation eating at your tone.
You try not to have a heart attack at the thought of her first day at the new daycare. I can't think about it, you tell yourself, moving your thoughts onto the Sunday checklist.
Junie's been fed. Unfortunately, she's the kind of wound up where the only solution you can think of is to get her in bed. If you can get her down soon she'll sleep until maybe 4AM. Not ideal; you'd prefer she slept later tonight and woke up at a healthier 6AM with you. When she does wake, no matter the time, you'll have her eat something substantial for breakfast and take a much needed bath.
Laundry, bills, cleaning, it all runs through your head. Junie's hair, her snacks for daycare, her clothes. Does she have clean socks for the week? Does she have a vest top for tomorrow?
Her crying grows loud and you can't think of anything except how overwhelmed you feel.
"It's okay, baby, just go to sleep." You shush her softly.
Somebody knocks the door.
You and Junie are similarly nonplussed. Her crying ceases for a second and her head turns in tandem with yours.
"Oh. Oh, you know who that is, huh?" you ask her, making for the door while her cries are still on pause. "That's our new friend Eddie. You remember Eddie?"
You pull open the door. There he is on the porch with a bag and a plastic case, wearing a shirt with short sleeves. You realise for the first time that he has tattoos.
"Hi," you say.
"Hi. Hi, Junie," he adds, looking at her tear-stained face. "Have I come at a bad time?"
"No, you're good. You're great, thank you for doing this." You lean back against the door and Eddie skirts past you. That close, you can smell the heavy sage and sandalwood of his cologne and see the beauty mark under his ear, dark hair tucked behind the shell.
He stops in the middle of the room and puts down the plastic case. "I'm gonna try to do it. Try being the essential word, and I make absolutely no promises." He makes a small cross with his hands leading out and the bag falls from the crook of his elbow to his wrist.
It sounds like more than a deadbolt. Eddie sees your gaze and jumps into theatrics that hook Junie's attention straight away, ruffling through the bag. He pulls out a VHS tape and then a second, one old and one newer.
"For your consideration." He presents them grandly against his check, his eyes flitting from your daughter to the tapes in wait of her reaction.
Junie has no clue what a VHS is. She thinks the TV is magic.
You swoop in and gasp loudly for Junie's sake, having identified his proffered tapes immediately.
"You know what that is?" you ask her, pointing at the slipcover. "Muppet Babies! There's Kermit and Fozzy and Rowlf and Gonzo." You touch your finger to each puppet in turn as you reel off their names.
Junie looks up at you like maybe she remembers, so you start to sing the theme tune for her. "Muppet Babies, they make their dreams come true. Muppet Babies, they'll do the same for you!"
The song jogs her memory. She starts her nonsense singing in a valiant but juvenile effort to recreate the music, dancing in your arms.
You sing it again for her as you lower her to the floor. She doesn't whine to be picked back up, a great sign that her mood has turned, instead walking to the TV, a small silver combi with a bubble screen. She raises her arms up high and starts hitting the TV stand with her palms flat.
Eddie looks to you as if he's checking that it's alright before crossing the small space and turning on the TV, your relieved smile more than enough encouragement. He's careful not to step on Junie's feet, surprised when she walks into his leg. She grabs onto his jeans and looks up at him with wide eyes.
Eddie visibly softens.
It's kind of crazy to see him, this metalhead dude covered in dark tattoos and wearing safety pinned jeans looking down at a toddler with nothing but patience in his eyes.
He drops his hand very lightly to her tiny back and pushes in the tape. "Hi, sweetheart."
"Hi," Junie says.
She doesn't let him touch her for very long, falling to her knees to pull out the bin of stickle bricks hiding underneath as Eddie fast forwards through the adverts and then turns up the volume until the Muppet Babies theme is echoing against the wood panelled walls..
Junie's eyes dart up the screen, two bricks held in her hands and a great smile on her face.
"Where did you find that?" you ask, in awe.
He steps over her and comes back to your side, crossing his arms over his stomach with a smug smile. "Not telling. Ruins the magic. Got The Bugs Bunny Show for when she gets bored of Miss Piggy."
You smooth down your rumpled black work skirt and smile shyly. "I can pay you back… Next week."
He looks lost for words for a split-second. It clears fast, and he says, "Tell you a secret. I have a friend down at good old Family Video that let me have 'em for nothing."
"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. You worry he's lying to make you feel better.
"Uh-huh. Friends in high places," he brags sarcastically.
You turn to watch Junie smile for the first time in hours and have to scrub your face to hide how shattered you feel. It's been a really long week. Your relief is a physical thing, a hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself deflate.
"You okay?" Eddie asks.
You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks. "Thank you. Really. You saved me."
"Yeah?" he asks, dialling up the drama. He lifts his chin high. "Would you say, oh, I don't know, that I'm your hero?"
It's his clear joking tone that saves him. If you'd detected even a smidge of genuine expectancy from him you likely would've shoved him out the door.
"Mm-hm. My hero," you croon, both of you grinning.
He turns back to the grocery bag and pulls out a bottle of juice. "I was gonna bring coke but I didn't want Junie to feel left out."
You move to the cabinets and can't believe how nice he is. You get a little warning stab, that feeling of if it's too good to be true… and shake it off. Maybe it'll turn out that way and you're not gonna do anything stupid to chance it, but he seems like a normal guy. A good neighbour who wants to be your friend.
You're in dire need of one of those.
"What was wrong with the little lady?"
You pour juice into a glass for him, less into a glass for you, and a half-inch into a clean baby bottle. "I can't get her down for a nap when she's with me at work and it really caught up to her today. She-" You yawn so wide it hurts your cheeks, covering your face with your arm.
Eddie looks up from where he's kneeling in front of the open plastic case he'd brought with him. "Caught up to you too, I think."
"A little." You smile ruefully.
He holds something red and black in the air. "This'll wake you up," he says.
It's a small hand drill. He presses down on the trigger twice in quick succession and Junie lies down on the floor to look backwards at him.
“Woah,” you say.
Junie rolls onto her knees and then stands. She's in that stage of walking where she can mostly do it but has a great tendency to trip over anything that might be in her way, and she stumbles as she approaches. Eddie moves the drill away from her and opens the case wide to show her his array of drill bits.
"How'd you like them, Junie?" he asks. "Pretty cool, huh?"
"What do they all do?" you ask.
"I don't have the foggiest," he says, grinning up at you. "And I really wanted to be cool and pretend that I did. I was going to, but you asked me that and now we're sunk."
Junie pokes at all the silver metal and turns away, bored, to return to her cartoons.
"I'm sorry," you say, not sorry at all.
"You should be." He shakes his hair out. "Can't say woodshop was something I ever paid much attention to in school."
You squat down beside him where he's counting the screws out for the deadbolt he'd acquired for you, your small cup of juice in hand. The deadbolt isn't new but it's clean of rust and that's all you care about. It doesn't need to do anything besides work.
"It can't be too hard though, right?" you ask quietly. There isn't any need to talk loudly this close to him and your head is starting to hurt from a long day.
"I hope not." He passes you the drill. "Hold onto that?"
He stands and you follow, the deadbolt frame in hand. He turns to your front door and holds it up to the frame, far from the door knob. "Where'd you want this thing?"
"Wherever you think is best," you say quickly.
"Got a pencil?"
You don't. You're ashamed to offer him a cyan blue crayon from Junie's arts and crafts. He takes it with a gleeful smile and uses it to draw a line under the deadbolt's two parts to make sure they fit together once they've been drilled in.
Junie starts fussing and you squint at her, trying to guess what's wrong. You leave the drill on the small table by the door.
"Junie, you want some dinner?" you ask, walking up behind her where she's stood watching TV. You rub her shoulder and lean over her, your face upside down in front of the TV. "I don't think you're hungry. Let's change that diaper."
She certainly doesn't want you to. You turn to Eddie where he's making clumsy crosses on the door in place of the screws, his brows furrowed.
"I'm gonna go get her some jammies," you say, and then wince. "Pajamas."
"Jammies," he repeats. You hate how happy he looks.
A hot flush washes over you. "She's the only one I talk to."
Again, that awful softening of his features. He's got the biggest, brownest eyes you've ever seen. "Why don't you get changed, too? I'm gonna start drilling." He waves the drill and you don't like how loosely he holds it.
"Please don't ruin the door."
A wolfish smile. "No promises."
You leave all the doors open. Eddie's nice but you're not stupid – if he plans on kidnapping her or something evil this is the perfect time. Though, you suppose, he could’ve abducted her when he found her outside.
You shed your uniform and pull on a pair of loose fitting pants. You can't find a clean t-shirt, probably because you own a grand total of three, and you get distracted when the drill starts whirring and Junie screams.
You know in your heart that it's just a baby scream rather than a sign that she's in pain and you still can't let it lie, rushing down the hall. You can see her, see that she's uninjured, only looking at the drill.
She's excited.
"You like that?" Eddie asks her. "Is that funny?"
Junie claps her hands together and reaches for the drill.
Eddie frowns. "Sorry, you can't have it. I gotta finish the door for your mommy. Why don't you build me something with your bricks, yeah? Something big."
Junie reaches up for the drill again.
"I can't, Junie, it's too dangerous. Don't want you to get all mutilated." You wrinkle your nose at what he's saying. He turns the drill towards his chest and touches the drill bit to his collar. "Look, see this? It's not for little hands."
Junie steps over the case of things on the ground and leans against Eddie's legs, insistent.
Your mouth drops open as he starts the drill and puts on some fake anguished screams. "Ah! Oh my god, it's eating me!"
Junie starts laughing at his fake screaming. Her eyes widen, her hands clinging to a rip in his jeans.
"Think that's funny, do you? Heartless girl. Where's your juice gone, hmm?" He holds the drill behind his back and points to her bottle on the side of the couch where you'd left it. "You want that?"
He goes over her head to grab it and encourage it into her hands. "Yummy," he says, his eyes moving to where you stand in the door past the kitchen, eyebrows jumping up. "Everything okay?"
"Screaming," you say, awkward in your breathlessness.
Eddie's eyes stay resolutely on your face. "She's okay. The drill is exciting. You're shirtless, you know."
You spin on your heel and back into your room. Your heart a jack hammer, you sieve through clothes until a rumpled t-shirt that smells of deodorant but not sweat appears and shrug into it.
Junie has a much better selection of clothes. You pick out some matching pajamas for her and a thick pair of socks and tuck them under your arm with her changing matt.
When you return this time, Eddie's drilling a third and fourth hole into the wall next to the door and Junie's watching with the teat of her bottle in her mouth, chewing but not drinking. You lay her mat down on the floor and grab her with a big sigh.
"Alright, Junie, let's get you all fresh for bed."
You change her diaper and she doesn't misbehave too much, Eddie's general presence a distraction. Soon she's sitting in your lap, dressed in new pajamas and smelling of talcum powder and baby creams, her wool socks soft as you rub your thumbs into the instep of her feet.
You sit on the floor watching Eddie drill the screws into the deadbolt frame. Junie slouches against you, her head digging into your chest and her tired arms struggling to hold up her bottle. You hold it up for her, watching Eddie's hands and his arms, how they move. Muscle and ligament tense under the skin, tattoos warping, his bats propelled into flight.
"I like your tattoos," you say.
Eddie stops drilling to look over his shoulder. "What?"
"I- I like your tattoos."
He lights up. His back straightens out and he turns back to the lock, giving the last screw a final good twist. The door makes a groaning protest and then it's quiet. Just Muppet Babies, Junie's soft suckling and the compliment you'd given adrift in the room.
"They're pretty sweet," he allows. You can hear how pleased he is though he won't look at you.
"They're cool. Have you had them long?"
Eddie starts to tell you all about them, fiddling with something you can't see on the door.
Junie decides that she doesn't want to be sitting anymore and turns in your arms, hands coveting your neck. You lift her into your chest and rub circles in her back, the weight of her emptying bottle on your shoulder. Soon, her small arms go lax. There's a rush of air as her lips open from the teat and the bottle tumbles to the rug with a dull thud.
He pulls open the door. Cool air rushes in. He closes it, slides the deadlock into place, and then pulls hard to make sure it won’t come free.
It’s solid.
He laughs triumphantly and Junie stirs. You pat her back and make some quiet shushing sounds and Eddie turns around, a slip of his teeth on show as he grimaces.
"Sorry," he whispers.
You shake your head. "You're amazing. Thank you."
If his cheeks weren't pink they are now. He leans into it, hiding one cheek behind his hair. "Stop," he says, exaggerated.
"I'll make it good, I swear," you whisper, covering Junie's ear with your hand. "I'll make you the best dinner ever. I'm the best at Kraft's mac and cheese, or-" You flush hot, realising that mac and cheese might not be the treat you think it is to him. "Or we can order in," you say, doing the maths in your head. You can't afford it, but maybe Benny-
"Kraft's mac and cheese? You're spoiling me."
You beam.
Eddie cleans up the small mess he's made. You're afraid to move quite yet in case Junie's not really sleeping, though she's a dead weight in your arms, and you watch Eddie walk through the room with both caution and ease.
"Oh, you don't have to do that,” you say.
He folds the baby blanket in his hands and puts it back on the armrest of the couch before moving on to the stickle bricks, not looking at you as he says, "Just earning my wage, doll."
You can't watch him clean your home. You wrap a tight arm around Junie and rise to your feet. Eddie sees your approach and his movements grow faster, rushing to clean up the mess before you can stop him. You don't know who starts first but you're both laughing as you grab his wrist.
"Stop!" you whisper, mock-furious. "Stop cleaning."
"Sh, you'll wake the baby."
You shake your head in bemusement. "I'm gonna go set her down. Then mac and cheese."
"Take your time. Lots of things for me to clean up out here," he says with a mock sincerity.
You drift down the hall and turn back to sneak a glance at him. He's pulled Muppet Babies out of the TV and is rewinding it around his thumb, a small smile on his lips as he hums the theme tune to himself.
With Junie finally in bed for the night you take a quick peek at yourself in the mirror on your nightstand and cringe. You look tired. You give yourself a big smile and feel better; a smile makes even your most exhausted features look pretty.
You slap on some chapstick. You know, to counter your dry lips. It shines.
Slipping out of the bedroom, you close the door as quietly as you can manage.
Eddie's standing at the end of the hallway. You expect to feel scared. Instead, you’re perplexed.
"Hi?" you whisper.
"Can I use the bathroom?"
You laugh. "Yeah. Course you can."
You have to pass each other in the hallway. His hip bumps your hip, a short rub of fabric.
You're still thinking about it when he finds you behind the stove, half asleep with your face in your hand. It's the kind of tired where your eyes keep slipping shut, not aching so much as blurry with a heavy head.
"You okay?" he asks quietly, sitting down at your cramped table.
You hum. "Hm. Just tired." You give him a guilty smile as you tip the bigger portion into his bowl. "Sorry. Mac and cheese with bacon bits for you, my hero."
"Thanks, sweetheart."
The fatigue ebbs a little.
Eddie’s easy to talk to. He makes you laugh. When you say goodnight, he looks back over his shoulder twice.
-
It's a funny coincidence that Eddie sees you Friday night. He never grocery shops on a Friday but he knowd when his uncle gets home in the morning there won’t be anything for him to eat after his shift. He takes a sharp turn towards the TV dinners and there you are at the bottom of the aisle with Junie in the seat of the cart. You're talking to her like you'd talk to anyone, though you didn't sound so saccharine sweet over mac and cheese. Close, but not quite.
"What do you want?" you're asking. "Ham and pineapple or mini pepperoni?"
Junie holds her hands out for both boxes. You let her take them and the two of you puzzle over the pizzas, heads bent together.
"Pepperoni, right?" you ask her, quietly enough that he almost misses it.
"Peroni," Junie agrees. You let her keep the box and put the other one back in the freezer.
"Pepperoni," you correct, absentminded.
"Peroni."
"Pepper-roni." You sound it out slow, looking at a scrap of paper in your hand.
"Pepper."
"You'll get there. Do you think we need shampoo this week?" You start jovial, but quickly lose your sprightliness. "Maybe I can put some water in the bottle and just… shake it up. No, we definitely need it."
Eddie watches you look over the cart. He knows exactly what you're thinking, What can I put back?
"Hey!" he calls, walking a little faster to try and hide how he'd been listening.
You turn on the spot and smile as soon as you see him. Junie, to his delight, is even more excited.
"Hi," she says, hands thudding along the cart's handlebar.
"Hi, Junie. How's my favourite neighbour?"
She babbles.
"I'm psyched to hear it. How about you, sweetheart?" he asks, parking his cart next to yours.
You're looking very tired. Still in your work uniform with a hoodie thrown over the top and your smart flats swapped for a pair of converse with the laces undone. You pinch your cheeks up into a big smile. He guesses that with a baby you've gotten very used to hiding how you feel.
You don't hesitate to lay it down thickly. "I'm really good."
"Yeah? How's Junie liking daycare?"
You cover your hands with your sleeves. "She loves it. Loves napping again. She-" You frown. "She doesn't like the mornings. Dropping her off. But after." You nod with a tentative smile "Yeah, it's nice to pick her up."
"Uh-huh. How's work?"
"What?"
"How's work for you? How's Benny's?" he prods.
"You're asking me about work?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Nobody ever asks about work," you say.
You can't look at him as soon as you've said it, your eyes moving back to the grocery list in hand. It's an old envelope, and it crinkles under your squeezing fingers.
"Sorry," you mutter.
Eddie bites back a frown. "Well, I'm asking."
He holds out his hand for the list and you give it without thinking. He adores your handwriting the second he sees it, scanning the list for anything in this aisle.
"Hey, tell me about it," he prompts at your silence, pushing his cart. It takes you a millisecond to catch up, but when you do you're near frenetic.
"Well, I messed up like, five different orders today. And when I had Junie it was like they didn't care 'cos she's cute, but now she's not there they get pretty angry pretty quickly."
"She's like a magic item."
"Right," you say, sounding like you have no idea what he's talking about. "She was my lucky charm. 'N now when I mess up I gotta practically beg some of those guys to leave Benny alone. He's too nice to me already."
"Are they all terrible?"
"No, the regulars, guys in there everyday, they're all great. They're too generous. Benny's too generous. I know he's fluffing up my tip jar. I hate that. I don't want him-" You flinch. It's strange. Eddie takes a small step closer to you and waits for you to continue, but you've lost all steam. "Sorry, I don't mean to weigh you down with all of this."
"I asked. And I get it."
"I don't want him to feel sorry for me."
"Hey," he says, reaching out for a box of cereal on your list. He presents it to Junie and shakes it around, "who said anything about all that?"
"No, I know, I just-"
Junie smiles her approval and he chucks the cereal in your cart with a rattle of metal. "I'm not trying to make you feel worse, I swear. I get it. I- You said he's a nice guy, right? So maybe he doesn't feel sorry for you at all. Maybe he just likes you. He owns that place. I don't think it hurts him to put an extra twenty in your tips."
Junie reaches up. You turn to her and lean down until your face is a few inches from hers. "I wish I didn't need it," you say quietly.
"I know."
Junie puts her hand on your cheek.
You sniff, not crying or anything like that, only breathing. "Thanks, Junie," you murmur.
"Mommy," she says. She sounds a little concerned.
"Let's go get something yummy, baby." You stroke her face lightly. "I'm thinking canned peaches. Or pears, um. Fruit cocktail. And condensed milk," you add, sounding unsure.
"I got a can or two of that laying around," Eddie says, because he knows that shit is expensive. "Wayne hates sweet stuff."
"I couldn't-"
"You let me come over for one of those mini pizzas and I'll bring the dessert," he says, like he knows you'll say yes. He doesn't know. Eddie Munson’s an expert in pushing his luck.
Junie starts clapping her hands together.
"I think she's decided," you say.
-
You're terrible with a can opener. You whine to yourself as you struggle to get open the second can. Eddie had insisted on peaches and pears and fruit cocktail, because he wanted to try them all apparently. And then some dramatic speech about little kids getting spoiled.
You can hear him now in the living room with Junie. They're laughing in a way that you're worried about, that guilty, hushed giggling that raises your hackles.
"Shush," Eddie says, faux-angry, "your mom's gonna hear."
"Shush," she repeats with much more enthusiasm.
"You shush! Look, don't do that, Junie, you're gonna get it tangled in your hair," he says.
You carry the can and can opener with you into the living room. Something about tangled hair gets your heart racing.
"Eddie, please don't let her get stickies in her hair," you say quickly.
"They're called stickles," he says, dropping back onto his hands, head over his shoulder to give you a bright-eyed smile.
"I know what they're called. Junie can't say stickles."
"Stickles," she says.
"She couldn't when I got them," you amend.
He's up quicker than you can really take in, hands extended. "Let me do it," he says.
He works the can out of your fingers. It's more contact than you've had with somebody who wasn't your daughter in a very long time and it leaves you shell-shocked. Eyes on his nice hands, bigger than yours with thicker fingers and his riot of rings. He presses the can to his chest and hooks the opener, peeking between it and you intermittently.
"Go see what we made for you," he encourages. "I'll do it."
His arm brushes yours as he moves to the kitchen and that's worse than his fingers. You rub where he'd touched and drop down on your knees next to Junie, looking over the stickle bricks with a smile. It's a heart, poorly construed and of tens of colours. It falls apart when she tries to pick it up so you help her remake it, cooing.
"Thanks, baby. This is for me, huh? You're so sweet." Your voice drops to a murmur. "My sweet girl. Wanna cuddle?"
You open your arms out and she doesn't seem very interested. "Please?" you ask, vying for her waist.
She lets you pull her into your lap. When you actually start to hug her she does her lovely melting thing that she always does, a floppy fish in your arms but with tiny squeezing hands. You giggle at her antics and lift her up so her face falls into your neck.
"Thanks for my heart, Junebug." She snuggles her head into your neck, hair squished to your skin. "I love you," you whisper, rubbing her back.
"The works," Eddie announces grandly as he appears, two bowls in hand.
"Eddie, that's too much for her."
"She's a growing girl."
"A growing girl with a tiny tummy," you say turning her around in your arms. "Tell you what, you have that one," you point to the biggest one, "and we'll share that one."
"How about you share the big one?" he asks, though it hardly sounds like a question. He sits down and places the bowl in her lap.
You grab the spoon before she can and stir up some of the fruits. "Wow, look at this! You gonna say thanks? Thanks Eddie.”
She doesn’t say thanks — her mouth is too far open to form words. You make quick work of shovelling fruit and condensed milk inside, chilled enough that she shivers in your arms.
“Yeah, that’s good,” you say agreeably.
She gets enthusiastic enough to take the spoon and you let her, even when she totally mauls the food, eating so loudly that Muppet Babies becomes inaudible.
Eddie eats slowly. You can feel his gaze. “You’re not gonna have any?” he asks.
You’d felt it coming. Your answer is clumsy anyways. “No, I will. I just… I always have her leftovers,” you say, sheepish.
He stands up.
You’re gonna ask why when Junie tips fruit down your legs, cold on the naked skin of your ankle. You dab at your pajamas with a small sigh. There’s no point in getting upset. She’s a messy eater but they all are at this age. Honestly, it’s nice to see her attempting to use a spoon rather than her hands.
“You’re doing a good job,” you say. You’re not totally sure who you’re talking to.
“Tada!” Eddie cheers, wielding a third bowl of fruit. “Swap with me?”
“What?”
“You think Junie’ll come sit in my lap?” he asks. He doesn’t wait, really. He holds out the bowl and you take it on impulse as he sits down heavily.
He takes her into his lap with a cheerful groan. “Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. There’s enough milk on your chin to bake a cake.” He wipes it with his hand. He doesn’t so much as wince at the mess.
You stare. He eases the spoon out of her grip and scrapes up a half-spoonful of what looks like pear and feeds it to her with the same kind of deftness of hand that’d taken you months to learn.
He can feel your gaze, evidently, because he looks up. There, you catch it, that slither of insecurity he hides well.
You pick up your bowl and start eating. It’s the nicest thing you’ve eaten in almost two years. You’d die for Junie. You’d do worse. But to eat, to know she’s fed — gorged — to know you can sit here and eat this whole bowl of fruit all to yourself and you won’t have to put it down, that’s heaven. It’s better, because you never let yourself have anything nice if you can help it.
The fruit turns to a lump in your throat and you swallow it, sniffling. Your lashes grow heavy with unshed tears and you keep your gaze resolutely on your dessert. When was the last time you had something this nice all to yourself? When was the last time somebody ever went out of their way to be this nice?
It’s a small gesture and a huge one. A tear dribbles down your cheek. You lick it away and keep on eating.
-
Eddie starts to come around every Friday. It’s a good deal; you make dinner and he makes dessert. After that first time he makes it his mission to give you heaping bowls too much to eat most of the time. Soon, he’s coming a few days a week, not always long, sometimes until the late hours, though you tell him desserts are a Friday only occasion. He complies grudgingly.
You make your first friend in years, and it’s so sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself.
Or what possesses you to offer to cut his hair.
Eddie's sitting on the couch with Junie, his big thigh to her little one and a picture book spread between them whilst you clean the kitchen. He's not reading to her – she's trying to read to him. She can't read, of course, but she can remember some of the words in relation to the pictures. She pokes at the blue cat and says blue. She pokes at the blue dog and says blue. She also points at the red cat and says blue. It's a learning curve.
Eddie gives corrections and encouragements just as you would. You smile at him from behind your cup of water.
"He's red, sweetheart," he murmurs, arm around her shoulder to hold the book's edges. "Red cat."
"Red cat," she repeats with enough accuracy to make you choke on your water.
Eddie gasps almost as loud as you do. "Right! Red cat! You're so smart, junebug, I can't believe it," he praises, squeezing her shoulder. His gaze meets yours and he smiles.
You send him back your sweetest smile. If he wasn't always so nice to you you'd like him anyway because of how he treats Junie, like she's the fucking sun.
She gets so excited when other people are happy that she starts laughing, standing up and trampling all over his legs to give him a hug. She's given him half hugs, she's fallen asleep by his side and loves to pet his hair, but this is a proper, tactile hug. Her arms wind around his neck with purpose and as soon as his surprise has faded he brings his arms up to hug her in turn, laughing delightedly.
"You're such a smarty-pants," he praises, rubbing her back with a boyish brashness.
She squeals as he squeezes her, his fingers digging into her ribs. Never cruel, only tickling her. She eats up every second of it and buries her face in his neck, laughing her wound up baby laugh that always brings a smile to your face.
"Ooh, she's so smart. First blue, then red. Next you'll be saying indigo, and vermillion, and-"
He cuts off when Junie gets one of her nails caught in his hair. She jolts and whines like it hurts and he goes rigid. You move forward to play mediator but he's already pulling her away gently and making small shushing sounds. "Chill out," he chides lightly, "I got it. Here." He pulls the hair from under her fingernail and rubs the pad of his thumb over her hand. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he apologises, pouting at her scowl. He envelops her hand in his and waves it around. "Forgive me?"
She doesn't learn her lesson, pushing her hands back into his hair, probably less kind than what’s ideal. Eddie doesn't flinch.
You sit on the armrest gingerly. "Can I ask you something?"
Eddie looks over Junie’s head. "What's that?"
"Have you always had long hair?"
He doesn't balk. "No, of course not. I fu-" He clears his throat. "My mom was the best, and I fit in just like everybody else growing up. When I ended up with Wayne I was-" He smiles. It's the kind of rueful grimace that says, You didn't ask for this.
You smile encouragingly.
He drops his gaze to Junie, worming his arms around her in a loose hug as she continues to play with his hair. "I was mad about everything, and I remember him asking when I wanted to get my hair trimmed and I said ‘never’. Took a few years for it to grow past the awkward stage," he bares his teeth and nods toward his shoulder, as if allowing his past misdemeanour. "But now I'd say it looks pretty sweet."
"I love your hair," you say.
Eddie beams. "You don't think it's too long?"
Emboldened by his reaction, you slip off of the armrest to sit next to him, turning in until your knees touch. Junie, loyal as she is, climbs straight into your lap with a babble.
You pat her back with one hand and raise the other cautiously for permission. Eddie flares his eyes wide, as if to say, You want to? Go on.
You take a lock of his hair between your fingers like Junie had moments before. "I like it like this."
"But?"
You look at the ends, an inch of limpness where the rest curls. "You haven't had it cut since you were a kid?"
"Maybe not that long, but it's been a while. I do it myself sometimes." He gestures to his bangs. He speaks quietly. A rarity though not unknown for him to be so hushed.
You tuck the curl you'd been examining behind his ear carefully.
"Do you think my hair looks good?" you ask.
"Sh- Sorry, of course I do. I swear I was gonna-"
You shake your head, laughing. "Not like that. What I mean is, I cut my own hair. I cut Junie's, too, and I could do yours if you wanted me to."
He goes quiet.
"Only if you wanted. I know it's a lot of trust, so-"
"Would you do it now?"
You hold Junie's head away from yours to prevent a loving headbut. "Right now?"
"I'm in dire need."
He throws his big brown puppy dog eyes your way and you couldn't say no if you wanted to.
You explain how he needs to get it wet first and how the shower head in the bathroom doesn't detach. "It's, like, built into the wall."
"I could go home, come back?" he suggests.
"I can do it over the sink?"
-
Eddie can't remember the last time somebody washed his hair for him. He knows there must've been a time, some place in his life where his mom or dad had done it for him. He thinks that, if he'd asked, Wayne would've tried it once or twice growing up, but now Eddie's most definitely at the age where having his hair washed is a foreign luxury.
And it does feel luxurious.
It shouldn't; the sink basin is very small as they tend to be in the trailer kitchenettes – small sink, small stove, small small small – and Eddie has to crane his neck. Already the space between his shoulder blades aches from being bent over, and he can't breathe well, smothered by steam.
But your hands. One shields his eyes from run off, a gesture unnecessary and far from lost on him, while the other massages shampoo into his scalp. He'd been surprised when you started because you hadn't mentioned washing his hair, and he'd said, "You don't have to do that."
You'd hummed. "Well, it's kind of a waste not to."
That was that.
Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and if his eyes weren't already closed they would've fluttered shut. He nibbles his lip and tries very hard not to show outwardly how nice it feels. Your left upper arm rubs against his back as you scrub at his roots, your right soaking wet beside his face, covering his eyes uselessly. He doesn't mention it. All this touching, he doesn't want it to end.
Your proximity honest-to-God sets him on fire. Your body pressed to his is a flame over his ribs.
"Maybe we shouldn't cut it at all," you say, stroking wet bangs away from his forehead. "It's soooo long."
"Can’t do it?" he teases.
"Keep your eyes closed, okay? I'm gonna rinse."
It's a comforting process. You dip your cup into the water. It fills with a wet glug, the rim shushing against the basin's bottom. You hold it over his head and pour carefully, heat caressing his scalp as the soap is washed away.
It's over too soon. You grab the towel you'd procured and tuck it around his shoulders, wringing all the excess water from his curls back into the sink. You encourage his head up wordlessly and he stands there, arms useless against the countertops edge, water sloughing down his face as you press the ends flat between your hands.
You lift his head and push his hair back with your hands, raking your fingers through it and laughing as soon as his face appears. "Eddie! I'm sorry, you're totally drowning."
He chuckles. They fade away as you pinch the corner of the towel and start to dab his face dry, dragging the rough material over his cheeks with an expression he can't read on your pretty features. Almost pensive, not quite.
"There," you say under your breath. "Saved you."
"My hero."
You smile at him softly before spinning on your heel. "I gotta find the hairbrush. And the good scissors." You look into the living room quickly and then turn to the hall leading to your bedroom.
Eddie looks into the living room too. Junie's not upto much, only watching TV, unusually subdued. He doesn't disturb her despite the itch to go over and play.
One of the muppets starts laughing about something and she laughs too.
"What are you smiling about?" you whisper from behind him.
"Nothing," he says quickly.
You raise your eyebrows. "She has a nice laugh, right? Doesn't matter how bad I feel, she laughs and everything's okay for a little while."
He feels a fond stab in his chest. "Her laugh's like yours."
"I guess we do sound the same."
You do, but it's not really what he'd meant.
The metal sound of scissors snapping. You wield them at him faux-threateningly and shepherd him into a chair you've dragged to the middle of the kitchen.
Eddie fights goosebumps as you pull a brush through his hair, loses when you take a lock at the front between two fingers and stop about an inch and a half from the end.
"I'm gonna do that much, okay?"
You're a quiet hairdresser. Eddie doesn't care, he can talk for Indiana, but there's something so sweetly simple about the quietude, just your hands in his hair, the snipping of your scissors and Junie's occasional excited chattering. You start to hum a song Eddie doesn't recognise about halfway through. It's melancholy. He doubts you realise what you're doing.
You draw silent as you round to the front. Eddie watches your hands work for what feels like hours. You have really pretty hands, not perfect, burnt fingertips and neat little nails. They smell like honey hand soap.
You pull two locks from the front together to make sure they're the same length. His curls will hide any discrepancy, he knows from experience, but he doesn't want to tell you that. Selfishly, he wants that extra time with you this close.
You work your way between his legs to comb his half-dried bangs. Eddie looks up at you with wide eyes.
"You want me to trim these, too?" you ask quietly.
"If you please."
You huff a laugh through your nose and start to trim his bangs carefully. He closes his eyes, and maybe it's the fact that he can't see you that gives him the confidence to reach out for your hip, a touch that can't be defined as amicable. He curls his fingers into the soft material of your shirt and feels the heat of your skin underneath.
You draw closer, as close as you can be.
"What made you decide on bangs?" you ask.
"Zits, mostly."
He can feel your laugh under his hand.
"I used to… I used to powder my face," you confide, a murmur, "like, an inch thick to try and hide everything. Being pregnant makes you so-" You pause to snip some hair, comb it away. It tickles his face. "Well, it makes you spotty. Or it made me spotty. It actually made me really sick."
"That's must've sucked," he says earnestly.
"It- Yeah. I guess it did. I don't know."
He hadn't meant to bring up something unhappy, but he's hungry to know. "Were you on your own?"
"Mostly."
"What was the worst part?"
"Being scared all the time."
He'd been expecting morning sickness or aching feet. "You were scared?"
"I honestly thought I was gonna die, Eddie."
He opens his eyes and leans back in his chair, hand flexing over your hip, as he tries to tamp down his surprise.
"It was," you mess with his bangs with the tip of your ring finger, "hard. I felt sick all the time, and when I didn't I would make myself sick worrying about her. What if I eat something or I catch something and it hurts her? What if- what if it all works out perfectly and then I can't look after her?"
"Did it work out perfect?"
You rub your lips together. "Uh, I guess so. It took a long time, and it hurt," you sound especially unhappy with that part.
He strokes up your waist, wanting to soothe the small crease between your eyebrows. "By yourself?"
"Yeah, by myself."
"I'm sorry."
You tuck his hair behind his ear and grin at him. "Now what are you sorry for?" Your hand lingers near his cheek. Slowly, you turn it, pressing the knuckle of your index finger into the skin under his eye and rubbing a small line. He worries he’s in love with you right then and there. "Not like you're the one who knocked me up."
You drop your hand and Eddie really doesn't want you to go anywhere, his grip kind but steadfast, bringing the other arm behind your back in a loose hug. "Who was it?"
"Just some guy. Nobody. Nobody worth thinking about."
"How old were you?" he asks.
"Why are you asking me all this stuff?"
"I wanna know about you."
You bring your hands to the towel around his neck and pull on it mildly. "I was sixteen. Seventeen when I had her."
He drags his fingertips up and down the small of your back lightly, almost like he's playing guitar. "I'm sorry you were all by yourself. That young. When I was sixteen I was still watching The Bugs Bunny Show."
You giggle and your hands move up to the side of his neck. He can hardly breathe, afraid to dispel whatever enchantment it is that he's under.
"Could be worse, huh? I'm nineteen and I still watch Muppet Babies," you joke.
"Why wouldn't you? It's the pinnacle of modern television."
"Yeah?"
Your beaming smile hits him straight in the chest. He thinks about how beautiful you look and can't stop, hiding his face in your stomach to stop from saying something stupid, laughing loud. You laugh in tandem, hugging the back of his head until your giggles peter out.
A small hand on his arm. You both turn at the same time and find a very unhappy Junie.
"What?" you ask her. Then, teasing, "Are you jealous?"
You lean down to pick her up. Eddie's gutted to lose your touch and then quickly exuberant when Junie ducks out of your arms to grab at his legs.
"Oh my god, yes," he says, holding out his hands.
Junie tries to take them and he slips them under his arm, pulling her onto his thigh with a big sigh. The sigh is half the fun, a theatrical reluctance when really he's always happy to have her climbing on him.
As soon as she's in his lap she's pleased, turning her head so she can watch the TV across the room.
You roll your eyes at his smug smile. "Shut up. She just wants what other people have."
"And you had me?"
"Shut up, Munson, seriously," you say. You don't sound half as mad as you're trying to.
Eddie takes a drying curl between his fingers and pokes at the side of Junie's face. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," he says, grinning when your daughter starts to squirm on his thigh.
He grins at her and tickles her until she's curling in with her chin dropped to her chest, smiling despite herself.
His fondness colours every word as he croons, "I got you."
Junie sounds about as outraged as a toddler can be when he tickles her nose and then drags the tip of the freshly trimmed curl under her eye. He draws a big circle around one of her cheeks until it's kissing her chin. She dissolves into giggles while squirming to get away from him and so he stops, only for her to blink and tug at his wrist.
He tickles her until she's screaming.
You pause on your knees where you'd been sweeping up his trimmed hair to look up at her and he's struck with guilt. "Y/N, you don't have to do that. I'll do it."
"No, you're okay."
Eddie finds his gaze drawn to your thighs, spread out as they are in your kneeling position, and then stolen by Junie as she almost topples off of his lap.
"I think…" he begins quietly, speaking to Junie though it's just as much for you, "that your mom deserves something nice for my haircut. What do you think?"
"I don't think that," you say.
"Wasn't asking you," he says seriously. Back in baby mode he continues, "What's mommy like, huh? What's her favourite thing in the whole world, besides you?"
"Sleep," you say.
"Well, I can't help you there."
"You help me there all the time. Junie sleeps like a log every Friday."
"Food coma," he says knowledgeably.
"You really don't have to get me anything, Eddie. My services were administered charitably."
He pushes his hands behind Junie's back and pulls her to his chest before standing. When he has her secure in one arm he pulls the chair back to your small table and tucks it in.
"Get up," he says to you. "I'll do it, alright? Swap with me."
You ignore him until he starts kicking you in the leg. "You're ridiculous!"
"You're ridiculous. Seriously, get up. You're not a serf." He returns your glare. "I'm a big boy, I can clean up after myself."
"It's my house."
"If you don't let me-"
"Christ! Okay." You drop the dustpan and brush sullenly, wiping your hands together as you stand before taking Junie out of his arms. "I'll make dinner."
"No you won't! I'm gonna order takeout," he says factually, already on his knees and sweeping.
"No you're not."
"I am. Me and June already talked about it. She's craving Marino's pizza."
"I'm not gonna let you use the phone."
"I'll walk to my place and order the pizza to here."
"Eddie-"
"Why are you being a hardass?" he asks.
"Fine! God, clean up your gross hair and order your stupid pizza. You're making me crazy," you say, collapsing onto the sofa with a little oomf, Junie's weight hitting you hard in the chest. She moves into a sitting position and pulls your shirt up, hands moving across the space under your chest.
Eddie throws himself into cleaning all the mess you'd made for him, the hair and the towel and the sopping wet draining board. He washes the dirty baby bowl on the side and fills up one of Junie's bottles with water, then a glass for you. He hasn't seen either of you drinking a thing since he's been here, likely his fault for distracting you.
He's about to call for pizza when he peers past the cabinets and sees you dozing on the couch. He decides pizza can wait until tomorrow; it's later than he realised.
Junie's halfway across the room with Mr. Bear playing make believe. She talks and talks and talks, gibberish to him but what's likely an unending, complicated storyline, no doubt.
Eddie approaches with the bottle already outstretched. "Junie," he says, and when she doesn't answer, "Junebug. Junie. Junie." Each iteration of her name softer and sweeter than the first, hoping to entice her in.
He holds the bottle in front of her face.
She finally looks up with a pout.
"For you," he says, offering the water.
She seems mildly interested as she takes it, turning back to her teddy and talking around the teat like it's not there.
You're struggling to keep your eyes open. Eddie gives the room a quick once over before kneeling down in front of you, tugging your shirt down to cover your exposed tummy as he says, "I should head home."
You blink at him and turn onto your side, cheek squishing into the couch cushion.
"Okay? Why don't you and Junebug head to bed?" he asks, using a tone not far from what he'd use with your daughter.
"You know, her full name's Juniper," you whisper.
He didn't know. "Really? I love that."
You wrinkle your nose, sounding very tired as you continue, "But someone told me it sounded like a name for a cat. So I've called her Junie ever since."
"It doesn't sound like a cat's name," he placates. "It's beautiful. You chose well."
"Yeah?"
Eddie smiles at you fondly, eyes tracing down your nose to your lips, shiny with balm. He tilts his head to the side to mimic yours. He could kiss you.
"Sounds like the name of an elf. Juniper Lightfoot, or… Goldwind. She could even be a mage. Juniper the Brave."
"Juniper the Loveliest," you say, and then grin. "Juniper the Hungriest."
"Juniper the All Great and Hungriest," Eddie says decidedly.
"Would you make her a hero, in your game?" you ask.
"Of course I would. She wouldn't even need to divide, she'd just conquer."
"What about me?"
"What, would you be a hero?"
You nod. He doesn't know why, but he thinks his answer is going to hold a lot of weight with you.
"You would be," he starts quietly, words painted slowly as he raises a hand to rest on your wrist, pinky finger spread over the hill of your thumb, "a fighter. With insight and survival."
"I don't know what that means," you say.
He leans in. "It means yes, you'd be a hero. You'd save kingdoms. Slay dragons." He squeezes your wrist.
"I think I better leave all that stuff for Junie. I'll just cheer you guys on from the sidelines."
"You're her mom, she can't do it without you. And even if she could I bet she wouldn't want to. Where's all the fun in guts and glory if you can't share it?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your skin.
Your eyes shut. Eddie doesn't know if it's from fatigue or a want to end this conversation. He feels marginally embarrassed for descending into nerd metaphor with you, but he thinks it's the kind of thing you needed to hear. He thinks if Junie could understand how often her mom prioritises her and misses out for her she'd want to fix that. Eddie doesn't know you half as well as she does and it breaks his heart sometimes to watch you insist on a smaller portion, to watch you put things back at the grocery store because she wants a box of milk duds, even to watch you wear yourself out ironing baby clothes in the only pair of pajamas you own.
"Make sure you lock the deadbolt behind me," he says carefully. You hum. He gives your wrist one last squeeze.
Junie looks tired in that she's getting agitated, whimpering under her breath. Eddie ducks down to give her upper arm a good rub. "Why don't you go cuddle with your mom?" he asks her, turning her by the shoulder so that you're in her eye-line. "Go have a lie down."
He doesn't know whether what he says makes any difference but you extend your arms out and Junie walks towards you, big staggered steps that make him laugh to himself as he pushes into his unlaced converse.
"Don't forget to lock up," he says in place of a farewell.
"Goodnight, Eddie," you say.
He waves. You're both too tired to wave back.
He's surprised to find his Uncle Wayne still home when he gets in, shoving into his work boots with a grunted hello.
"Hey."
"Did you cut your hair?" Wayne asks, perplexed, a little gruff.
"Junie's mom did it for me."
"'Junie's mom,'" Wayne quotes dryly, slugging his bag over his shoulder. He's heard all about Junie's mom.
Eddie scratches the back of his neck and splutters when a big hand claps his back, a demonstration of Wayne's pity as he passes through the open door.
Eddie spins to watch him jog down the steps. "We're friends," Eddie calls.
"Don't be dumb," his uncle says without turning back.
"I'm not exactly known for being smart," Eddie says to himself, cheeks heated by a furious blush.
𓆩❤︎𓆪
thank you for reading! | my masterlist | multi-chapter
if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡
#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader oneshot#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x afab reader#eddie munson fluff#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4#stranger things
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I think Twilight/Loid Forger (or whatever his birth name is) is a huge romantic. I think he truly believes in love, true undying love, soul mates, family, permanence, etc. he’s just convinced himself that he isn’t capable of love or doesn’t need love because, sadly, he believes he doesn’t deserve all those things. He can’t be happy, he can’t be at peace. He has to work endlessly to save the world. He’s punishing himself by denying himself true love, happiness, and permanence (he really, really wants these things)
So what’s happening in the story is, he finds Anya and feels himself loving her and being her father, and he loves it, he loves being her dad. But he can’t have a daughter, he needs to create world peace. So he pushes back and fights against all these happy feelings.
And with Yor it’s even worse. He could be falling in love with her, true love, and he’s blown off his feet. I don’t think he’s ignorant or oblivious to what he’s feeling for her at all. Like we laugh at him and make fun of him because he’s an obtuse, oblivious spyman. But he’s actually well aware that it’s love, but he’s denying himself. Because he believes being in love with his wife, and raising a daughter with her, and being happy together forever is the most wonderful, precious thing in the world. And it’s not something he is allowed to have.
(I think if anyone is confused and oblivious about what they’re feeling and what it means, it’s actually Yor. Her feelings are more obvious to us, the audience, because she’s allowing herself to feel openly. But she is just now coming to understand that she’s falling in love.)
Like, Twilight secretly loves romantic movies and books and stuff but all along he’s thinking “Oh I’ll never feel this ‘true love’ thing they’re talking about, ima SPY.” But then he meets Yor and it’s an immediate kick in the gut, fly off a cliff, swooning music when she walks in the room, I finally belong somewhere feeling. And in the story right now we’re seeing him go through the “Oh fuck no there’s no way this can’t be happening I can’t love her I’m supposed to love spying and the shadows and being alone forever”
I mean come on, this guy right here loves romance. He loves dates with his wife. He loves love. He is trying to create a world where children don’t cry and the world is at peace and everyone is happy and in love. Except himself. He’s the sacrifice.
This right here is Twilight indulging himself. Feeling that true love feeling and relishing in it, like soaking in the sun. But then he takes two giant steps back and distances himself from her, and shuts himself off from his family. They all suffer because of it. It’s like he’s torturing himself and unknowingly hurting her in the process.
I think what needs to happen in the story eventually is his acceptance. He’s in love with her, he loves his daughter. He’s allowed to keep them and openly love them forever. He deserves it.
#spy x family#twiyor#loid forger#anya forger#yor forger#come on twilight you can do it#you’re allowed to be happy#now I’m sad#thinking about this at 2am instead of sleeping#rambling
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TWST Boys as ✨ PARENTS✨(Part 1)
TW: kids, pregnancy, reader is depicted as female, domestic, fluff
ft. :Heartsabyul, Savanaclaw | pt.2 ; ft. Octavinelle & Scarabia | pt.3; ft.Pomefiore, Ignhihyde | pt. 4; ft.Diasomnia
Riddle Rosehearts-
This man only has 1 kid, maybe 2 but that's kinda pushing it. I think he would be so worried about messing up his child the way his mother messed him up. He'd be strict yet dotting on his children; like he'll make sure their homework is done by a reasonable time and then praise them for doing really well on an assignment, especially if it's a subject they genuinely struggle with. If I'd say a boy dad or girl dad honestly, I think it could go either way, but I'm leaning towards boy dad.
Trey Clover-
I heavily believe he will have a big family anywhere from 4 - 7 kids. And these kids are absolutely close in age because I know the two of you are gonna get very busy, it feels like you're always pregnant with other people. Just imagine Trey with a mini him (or you) helping him crack the eggs in a bowl while they're wearing matching aprons <3. He would be a gentle parent but would put his foot down went he needed to. When it comes to girl dad or boy dad I can only think both!!
Cater Diamond-
At first he wasn't sure he wanted kids bc kids are a lot to take care of, but after the two of you being together and going through so much. He realizes deep down he did want to start a family with you. He would probably want only one or two but your first pregnancy you end up with triples; then you two said that's it until you got pregnant again with twins!!(My headcanon that Cater's special magic makes it more likely to have twins, triplets, etc come for here!!). It wasn't what the two of you anticipated but you couldn't be happier
Your pair of triplets ended up being 2 girls and a boy, then your twins were girls. He's a very fun dad always staying on top of the trends and slang. He has a hard time laying down the law with his kids sometimes, so you have to do it most of the time but when he really has to he does. *Bonus: You guys have 4 family photo shoots a year, and multiple photo albums*
Ace Trappola-
He probably has 3-5 kids, but from time to time it feels like you have 4-6 kids. He's always getting into trouble with them, playing pranks on you and others, even each other. There is no quiet in your household, it doesn't exist til everyone's asleep. Your kids are the most playful and competitive children you've ever seen, but they know to dial it back from time to time; Ace told them "When your mom says it once, she might be joking, if she says it twice she more likely serious so listen, if you make it to three....your the only name going on that tombstone". You guys are the most chaotic adorable family ever.
Deuce Spade-
He has 3 kids and not a single one of them is male, bc this man is %100 a GIRL DAD!! At first he was nervous about messing her up but after your first girl turned 3 and your second is 1, he couldn't imagine having a boy. He is the most proud girl dad you'll ever see. Is so protective of his amazing girls(that includes you btw), would fight off mosquito if it bit one his girls, no matter have stupid he looks. Spoils his little girls in any way he can, luckily you're there to make sure their not TOO spoiled.
Leona Kingscholar-
This man has 2 children and always makes sure one never feels less than the other. He knows what it's like to be stuck in your siblings shadow so he tries to make sure that never happens to his kids. While he won't always be present since he is still part of the royal family and therefore will have certain royal duties to fulfill; he will always do his best to be there for his kids. He does sleep less then he did before since his life is busier, but he always makes sure to take a nap everyday so when he's with his wife and kids he'll be able to be in a better mode to see his beautiful family. He would have one girl and one boy.
Ruggie Bucchi-
3-8 kids. His kids are the rowdiest, sneakiest kids you've ever seen. Although most of the time they're super sweet(to you). The first time you two talked about kids you agreed on only 2, but after having your first 2 rascals. You two got some more baby fever and ended up having only a few more. You did have a good paying job so you could take care of your little pack of children. The Bucchi household never has a boring day because there is always something really exciting or crazy that is happening. Overall he has more girls than he does boys. You first daughter stays a daddy's girl <3, but dw he loves all his kids equally!
Jack Howl-
4 kids, an even amount. He isn't the most expressive Dad but his kids can tell how he feels based on body language and physical acts. While to others it may seem as if he couldn't care less about his kids, it is the complete opposite. Always making sure their ok, celebrating their accomplishments, and always encouraging them to do what they love. His kids can tell through these small acts that he loves them. Your husband loves to take early morning runs, ofc but when your kids are babies he would take them in their stroller so they can get some fresh air to get them in a good mood. He does that so that maybe if their baby is in a better mood you won't have to much stress when trying to figure out what they need; it makes both of your lives easier. At first the two of you though you'd only have boys bc of your first 3 but then low and behold, your last kid was a baby girl<3!!
Heartsabyul Masterlist
Savanaclaw Masterlist
TWST Masterlist
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst#twst x reader#fluff#riddle rosehearts#riddle rosehearts x reader#trey clover#trey clover x reader#cater diamond#cater diamond x reader#ace trapolla#ace trapolla x reader#deuce spade#deuce spade x reader#leona kingscholar#leona kingscholar x reader#ruggie bucchi#ruggie bucchi x reader#jack howl#jack howl x reader#domestic#babies#tw babies
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Connecticut Tav | Wood Half-Elf | Beast Master Ranger
So, this is my sheet for @bareee's @tav-dex. Went a little overboard and made a whole ass character sheet (man the last time I made one of those was so long ago). I want to write something about my cringe boy so. Buckle up because it's going to be long and poorly written (I suck at writing).
One edit because I'm a dummy, his alignment is neutral good not true neutral idk why I did that.
He was born and raised in his mom's and step-dad's tavern called Crow's Perch (not as fancy as Elf Song but in a different category as Blushing Mermaid)(the tavern thing is just for the sake of a joke that the most popular drink they serve is called 'Connecticut Water'). He has an older brother, who's a bard. Despite the description for Urchin background ("After surviving a poor and bleak childhood") he had a happy childhood, filled with love and support. The two brothers treated the whole Lower City as their playground: breaking into places just for fun, pick pocketing nobles, climbing Wyrm's Rock Fortress etc.
His love for beasts and creatures of any kind comes from the stories told by his step-dad (both him and Tav's mom are retired adventurers). Step dad was the one who told Tav about Darkmaw the Wicked *wink wink*.
At one point he got tired of the city life and decided he wanted to become a ranger. After successfully fulfilling some contracts he became so confident of his skills he tried to build a trap all by his own. The trap exploded right into his face (he himself has no idea how it didn't kill him or damaged his eyes). After that he was sulking in his hunting hut for a month. The experience humbled the boy. Most of his adventuring prior to the nautiloid could just be boiled down to hanging around one village and talking local boars out of destroying potato fields, and occasionally getting rid of poachers.
Before the abduction he was on his way to Baldur's Gate to see his family (which he hasn't seen in months).
Trivia (because it's easier to write stuff this way):
His hair started to go grey at the start of Act 3 from the weight of responsibility and stress.
In Act 1 he was corresponding with his family thanks to Faust. After entering The Underdark he stopped sending letters (In Underdark because it would be hard, in Act 2 because he didn't want the bird to be killed by Shadow Curse).
Despite being close to his family in Act 3, he didn't visit them or send any messages in fear that Gortash and/or Orin would hurt them.
He carries with him a razor and some fancy oils for his beard.
His brother wrote one ballad about him, soon after that Tav forbid him from writing more (it was very much not accurate).
His step-dad taught him how to fight with a sword, while his mom taught him archery and the art of stealth.
Tav's biological father died when he was very young so he has barely any memory of him.
Tav's a walking Merlin app, he can identify any bird by just listening to it.
He loves climbing trees. Either to rest on a branch or to scout the surroundings.
He loves picking up herbs and making potions.
Despite growing up in a tavern he's not much of a drinker.
He's very self-conscious about his height and chest-to-belly area. He tries his best not to show it.
At one point he was persona non grata at Sharess' Caress.
He enjoys fishing.
Sir Daisy Dewdrop Fluffington is a name of his childhood plush.
He knows how to play lanceboard (he often plays against Gale and tries to teach it to Wyll).
He draws in his journal. He drew all of his companions at least once.
He almost cried when Jaheira called him 'cub' and almost called her 'mom' in response.
He's scared of Lae'zel. But tries his best to understand and help her.
He had countless heart-to-hearts with Karlach.
In his journal he described Astarion as 'his equal on the battlefield'.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#connceticut tav#character sheet#tav#oc:faust#i accidentally hit post while editing it lmao well this is the final version dhjdjd#the fact tav and faust have the same wis is sending me
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Nico Di Angelo x Child of Hades
Pairing(s): Nico Di Angelo x Gn!Reader (platonic/familial)
It was difficult being a child of Hades
I mean everyone seemed to hate you and for whatever reason you were put into the lotus casino
You spent decades there and unbeknownst to you- your half siblings also stayed there during the same time
Well that was the past- you were currently in the underworld and because of your fathers liking towards your mortal parent you’ve been getting spoiled
Especially since you’re one of few children of his
So while walking around Hades palace you were called upon by your father
I mean sure, you hadn’t done anything bad in particular but the constant bickering from your step mom really got on your nerves
So maybe hades sensed that- who knows
Well what you do know is the reason you were called upon
That reason being your half sibling that you were currently made aware of
His name was Nico and now you were gonna be forced to hang out with each other on part of your father
It is a hassle, but Nico's chauffeur Jules Albert ended up driving you to wherever you were going in the end
You two were practically glued to the opposite sides of the car but once you got to your destination (a mall) you were left to “bond” or whatever
You half expected Nico to immediately leave your side but he surprisingly didn’t and actually walked around with you
You both went by stores (and he was weirdly obsessed with hot topic) but whatever
It wasn’t until you both sat at the food court that you guys finally started talking the same language
You learned of his background (when he was born and that he stayed at the lotus casino) which you ended up revealing was your backstory
You two bonded over it sorta but only really when you both ventured across the underworld
You don’t remember how it happened but you were suddenly attacked and even if you’d hate to admit it- you really didn’t think Nico’d have your back
So when he suddenly attacked and slayed the monster with zero hesitation it took you by surprise
I mean it’d be a lie to say you two haven’t been getting closer and closer but there was still a barrier and obvious distance Nico kept you at
This instance made a thick tension and while you two were setting camp while in the underworld he began to talk
He was pleased to know that you’re from around the same time period and the evening (if you can even call it that, the whole underworld is basically pure night) was spent with you two chatting away with the troubles of having to go back into modern day society
It was nice for Nico- I mean when he was first introduced to you he thought the worst
Which can you even blame him?
Well regardless, knowing he has another sibling is nice
I mean you’re obviously not all that close but lately he’s been relating to you and the two of you had made jokes about your dad and old lives
Which in a way is nice, especially since most people get uncomfortable when he just wants to talk about how he feels
Well eventually the conversation turns to the attack he had launched on that monster that was going at you
You took note of how panicked he seemed to protect you and you voiced that
He seemed stiff and when you reassured him you didn’t need to know more he said it was fine
And explained the whole ordeal with Bianca and the lotus casino and how in a way, you’re really his sibling now
I mean actually
You two have fun but argue and it’s never too much
Not to mention how you just get each other
He voices that and when he’s done he’s grateful you don’t take it as weird or awkward and just listen
After that you two are definitely more close and if you chose to vent too then he’d be there for you too
On a lighter note, you two end up realizing you have a lot of your powers in common
I mean you can raise the dead, shadow travel, etc so you two definitely compare and improve together
On a lesser good note, you’re introduced to camp
Everyone’s shocked to see you since they didn’t expect hades to have another secret child
You get pretty much the same treatment as Nico unless you’re more extroverted and approachable
Which makes things worse because you two start being compare
Which is absolute butt cheek
I’d imagine that if you meet when Nico’s younger then he’d be a bit hesitant to get close to you
Especially since it might feel like a betrayal to Bianca but he soon realized you were your own person and his love for you as his sibling wouldn’t be a crime
Anyway I’d imagine you’d be the first person he’d come out to
He’s definitely buzzing with nervous energy but if you reassure him and if you’re queer and tell him too, well he’s glad to know you trust him enough and that you basically gave him collateral in case you ever betrayed him
Either way he’s glad that you support him and becomes a bit more confident, even if by a little
Eventually Nico gets with Will and you’d probably you are the first person he told about it and introduced you two if he didn’t already
Either way there’s some ups and downs with Nico as a sibling but he’s overall pretty cool as a brother
Just a bit emo
#fanfic#gn reader#male reader#fluff#fanfic fluff#fluff headcanons#nico di angelo x male reader#nico di angelo x reader#female reader#nico di angelo#Nico Di Angelo x female reader#Nico Di Angelo x sibling reader#pjo nico#nico pjo#pjo x reader#pjo fanfic#pjo fanfiction#pjo fandom#pjo series#child of hades
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Phillip Graves Headcannons
A/N: These are supposed to be somewhat realistic, I lived in Texas for three years on an Army Base & Jesus Christ they’re flooded with plenty of Phillip Graves
Phillip Graves x F! Reader
• You met Phillip while he was on a four-day weekend at a UT vs. Baylor football game
• You were one of the cheerleaders on the sidelines & you caught his eye immediately
• I mean c’mon those shorts & chaps mixed with Pom Poms (The UT Cheer uniform is so stinkin’ cute)
• Your friend pointed him out to you at first
• “Girl that man has been staring at you”
• He was nearly focused on you the entire game, you kept smiling & giggling at him the more he looked
• He found you as you were walking out of the stadium, he asked you out & ofc you said yes
• There’s 100% an age gap (this man’s ego is equally as large as big as Texas)
• If you’re in a sorority he attends the formals with you
• he drives the most lifted extra pick up truck you can imagine
• “Babe can you even see over the damn steering wheel?”
• As you graduate college he proposed to you (with a two carat diamond) & you had a elaborate wedding on his family’s ranch in Texas
• You had multiple wedding dresses designed by Berta bridal
• Surprise Pom dance for him with your cheer teammates
• After the wedding you honeymooned in Italy
• Ofc y’all decided on off post housing so you be able to have every commodity on the planet
• hear me out indoor swimming pool
• Even though you went to college, Graves is a very traditional man he doesn’t want you to work
• You have different hobbies, go to cycle class, shop ofc, get Botox done etc.
• Since he’s a very traditional man I do feel like he’d hold some old fashion views that were engrained in him from childhood
• He’s a religious man to some extent (he’s from Texas there’s no way around that)
• He 100% loves to show you off on & off post
• His Shadows at first were in pure disbelief that he married you, hell some of his Shadows are closer in age to you
• Buys you lululemon work out clothing for the “quality” he loves the way your body looks like those damn align leggings
• You guys do go line dancing & the both of y’all are pretty good at it
• He loves to go to the range to shoot in his free time, & he’s a hunter (I apologize to my fellow animals lovers) but not a trophy hunter
•He conceal carries a handgun at all times
• He makes delicious Deer jerky
• This man collects old Allied WW2 firearms
• He loves History Channel documentaries on WW2
• full on dad stance in front of the tv while watching
• “Honey come look at this!”
• He’s not that old but due to his time in the Marines & current job he does have bad knees, a bad back etc. the cracking his body does is insane
• He does take pills for that & you have to remind him to take them
• Whenever you ask him to read something he whips out his old man glasses
• He is always losing them too, so at work he will wear contacts (no one knows about this at his work)
• “Turn the radio I can’t see”
• He adopted a golden retriever puppy & a German Shepard puppy for you
• They’re your guard dogs when he’s away
• You got pregnant a little bit later in your marriage solely because Phillip was focusing on work a lot in the beginning of your marriage
• He was over the moon excited that you were pregnant
• Your gender reveal was powder inside of a target & be shot at it
• It was blue, you were having a little boy
• He made sure the nursery was set up prior to him leaving
• When you went into labor Phillip was about to go on a mission & it was the most excruciating experience knowing something horrible could’ve happened
• He watched your baby be born on FaceTime. It hurt him to see you upon so much pain & just surrounded by medical staff
• Due to a miscommunication & an ambush he unfortunately got held up
• He didn’t meet your son until a month after you delivered
• He looked at the photo he had of you in his plate carrier in the safe house he was held up in wondering how you & his newborn son were doing
• His Shadows & their significant others gifted you the most beautiful baby gifts once they returned from the missions
• Graves would fall asleep with your baby on his chest in the living room after feeding him in his recliner
• Your son’s little face would be smushed up against Graves’s chest drooling on his t-shirt
• He too would bring your son to work, but once he started crawling (I swear if there’s one thing that will break any hardened military man is a baby)
• Once your little boy is old enough he would play football & baseball
• Graves also helps coach when he can, he too played those sports as a little boy
• He’d also probably take him hunting too & teach him how to live off of the land
• The saying Once a Marine Always a Marine rings true in the Graves’s household
• Just like his old man your little boy joined the Marines
• Graves is a true traditional family man at heart & does everything he can to shield you guys from his line of work
✨NSFW✨
• huge daddy kink, his ego is already big & he loves the idea of you having to rely on him
• Loud office sex whenever you’d visit
• Cockwarming him while he does paperwork
• You’d wiggle around & he’d hold you down
• You went topless in Italy when you went to the beach on your honeymoon, & he constantly was grabbing at your tits
• You adopted the habit of tanning like that in the privacy of your backyard
• Major breeding kink too
• He loves finishing inside of you
• He’ll also use you to take his frustrations out when he’s had a rough day at work
• Lingerie especially red lingerie is his favorite
• He’s 100% a boob man & he’d be happy to pay for fake tits if that’s what you wanted
• You’d 100% wear his cowboy hat while riding him
• He spanks you as a punishment
• You do have sex in the back of his pick up truck under the infamous Texas starry nights
• You two have made so many sex tapes together from all different angles
• He also has so many nudes of you
• One or a couple may have accidentally gotten leaked to his team (this just fed his ego more)
• You’d also probably wear his old marine dress blues for the Marine Corps birthday as you rode him
#cod imagines#call of duty#cod masterlist#ghost call of duty#phillip graves imagine#graves x reader#phillip graves#phillip graves smut#cod graves#graves mw2#graves smut#ghost x y/n#cod modern warfare#phillip graves x you#phillip graves x female reader
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Why isn't Izuku dead? A Discussion on OFA + Secondary Quirk Characteristics
This is something I've wondered ever since the reveal that Hikage Shinomori died from old age at 40, because of the strain from having 2 quirks. The obvious explanation is that a human being cannot possess more than one quirk (unless you're All for One), because they will experience "quirk overload", where the mind (think like in the Nomus) and body (think like in Nine) cannot handle the quirk. This is the reason why only a formerly quirkless person can safely wield One for All.
But there's something missing here.
Izuku is shown to be the only user of One for All to be able to use past user's quirks. All past vestiges had only been able to use their original quirks and the power-stockholding aspect of One for All, even All Might. One For All has also been confirmed to have reached quirk singularity, which only makes the situation more confusing.
There are other people who have been in possession of multiple quirks without becoming Nomus, such as:
All for One
Gigantomachia
Nine
Number 6 (antagonist from My Hero Academia: Vigilantes)
Tomura Shigaraki
Izuku Midoriya
However, Nine, Number 6, and Shigaraki all underwent severe body modification to be able to handle the quirks. Healing quirks, such as Gigantomachia's Endurance, Tomura's Super Regeneration, and Nine's attempt to claim Cell Activation, are also able to undermine the effects of quirk overload. This leaves us with only two "natural" multiple quirks holders:
All for One
Gigantomachia
Nine
Number 6
Tomura Shigaraki
Izuku Midoriya
Izuku's capability to hold multiple quirks can't be attributed to his prior quirklessness, since he now has no less than seven quirks. Born without a quirk or not, that's still being in possession of more than one. By all accounts, Izuku should be braindead, or at the least, aging extremely fast/being in bad health, but he isn't.
Now, let's have a quick talk about Secondary Quirk Characteristics:
What are they? These are quirk characteristics that are inherited by a person even though they may be unrelated to their own quirk.
Fumikage Tokoyami - bird head that is unrelated to Dark Shadow
Koji Koda - rock-like head that has nothing to do with Anivoice
Mina Ashido - horns, eyes, and skin that are not part of Acid
These are usually traits that belonged to a person's ancestors as part of that ancestor's quirk. Sometimes, these traits will compile with others to form a combined quirk (such as Tsuyu Asui's Frog quirk or Shouto Todoroki's tolerance to fire and ice with his Half-Cold Half-Hot).
Secondary Quirk Characteristics can actually be compared to Darwin's Theory of Evolution by Natural Selection. If the trait aids/does not hinder the body's ability to safely use their quirk (and by extension, to survive), then it will be passed on. There is even speculation that the designs of the cast are due to these secondary traits (like the Midoriya's green hair), making them much more colourful than their Pre-Quirk counterparts. This would mean that secondary traits can be inherited by someone regardless of if they are quirkless or not.
How does this relate to Izuku's strange ability to use multiple quirks?
Because of the theory that he is related to All for One (more specifically, the Dad for One Theory).
His ability for holding many quirks can be logically explained by two things:
He could possess a secret quirk that is a fusion between the All for One quirk and Inko's Attraction of Small Objects quirk. If so, the quirk might not express the same holes as in the palms of All for One and Shigaraki, since Izuku could theoretically "pull" quirks towards himself, or it could be another type of AFO-esque power (can gain quirks though DNA-consumption, can pass on quirks like Yoichi, etc). Whatever it could be, it would have to be something that can provide him with the protection from quirk overload. Even AFO might not know about his quirk, since he wasn't able to detect Yoichi's original Transference quirk. This suggests that All for One can't detect quirks that can actually manipulate the DNA of other quirks (unlike Aizawa's Erasure or Monoma's Copy, which just block/copy their effects), or that he cannot detect quirks that are in held by a family member. I don't really which of those it could be, since canon never really explained why Yoichi's original quirk was noticed.
OR
If he is truly quirkless like the series says, he could have inherited a Secondary Quirk Characteristic that allowed him the capacity to possess multiple quirks, even if he was quirkless on his own, making him the perfect vessel for OFA. Plus, it completes the family trio.
All for One - Takes/Gives Quirks
Yoichi - Passes On Quirks
Izuku - Keeps Quirks
Edited last on March 10
#dad for one#all for one#all for one is midoriya hisashi#bnha#mha#mha thoughts#dfo#dfo theory#theory#midoriya izuku#someone tell me if I'm wrong#please#my hero academia#yoichi shigaraki#i need answers#one for all#boku no hero acedamia#quirk weirdness strikes again
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Are Lily and Petunia working class? I feel like they’re coded more like lower middle, with parents who are very class conscious in the way that people who’ve only relatively recently inched their way into respectability can be - Lily and Petunia both have classist insults on the tip of their tongue when they’re done with Snape and that had to be a deliberate invocation of the attitudes inside the Evan’s’ home considering they’ve got basically no other personality traits in common - and who hope their daughters marry up, which they both do. They don’t really seem as kids to speak or act in the way that the few unambiguously working class characters in the books do. She can’t be raised middle middle, because she’s far too obsessed with the performance of it once married to be comfortable that status won’t be taken from her, but her dad was like…a bank clerk. Or a council worker. Not a lawyer, but not a working class factory guy or tradesman either. Cokeworth reads to me as split by the river, with Snape’s condemned Victorian slums in the shadow of the mill and then Lily and Petunia over a bridge in the nicer part of town on one of those endless 1930s estates with a gated playground that are all over the country. Sometimes it’s hard not to read an uncomfortably condescending undertone into JKR’s words about Lily’s goodness that a key part of that goodness in the author’s eyes was her ability to overlook the class disparity with Snape. Would love to hear your thoughts on this because you usually spot much more going on in the text than I do!
(also, what working class family names their first child Petunia???)
so, i certainly think this is a fair reading, anon - which definitely works with snape and petunia and lily's canonical... vibe.
i just prefer the class divergence between the snapes and the evanses to be smaller in real terms - and, therefore, more profound in imagined ones.
by which i mean that i like the tension between the two families to be intra-working-class beef between a "respectable", "aspirational" working-class family and the feckless delinquents it considers beneath them.
this is because it always strikes me that so much about petunia's relationship with snape is based in her fear of the mirror he holds up to her, and the inadequacies she's terrified it will reveal. the main one of these - obviously - is that snape's continued existence reminds her of her desire to be magical [and shocking, bohemian, unconventional etc.], but i also think that snape works well as someone who reminds her that all the affectations of middle-class respectability she puts on are mere fiction. she's just a working-class lass from cokeworth, no better than he is...
[which offers an explanation for her terror as an adult that her solidly middle-class lifestyle will be snatched away from her - this fear is connected specifically to harry's magic; magic is what took lily away from her; lily was introduced to magic by snape. she has escaped him by ascending into the middle-classes, but the frightening, corrupting influence he represents - which threatens to unmask who she really is and where she really comes from - stalks her still...]
i certainly agree that her and lily's parents would be incredibly class-conscious, but i see it as the adult evanses looking to receive recognition which would allow them to distinguish themselves from the lower orders in a way which might help them advance in terms of class status, rather than allowing them to retain a previous ascension up the greasy pole.
and this will obviously have involved the demonisation of members of the working-classes they believe to be letting the side down - petunia clearly being desperate to call snape whatever the seventies version of a "chav" was during their first meeting can definitely be read as having that "it's people like you that give people like me a bad name" flair. and i think that's more potent - and would bother petunia a lot more - if it's something she thinks from within the same social class as snape, rather than [however tenuously] from a bracket above him.
the evanses house and mr evans' job would absolutely play into this intra-class divide. i agree that they probably lived on a housing estate built between the 1930s and 1950s - but i think it's also entirely possible that the estate they live on was council housing. the housing division in cokeworth might be a smaller-scale version of that seen in other post-industrial cities in the north-west, such as liverpool and manchester - policies intended to move families out of unfit victorian stock into new-builds, which came with things like indoor toilets and central heating.
[in reality, these policies rehoused a lucky few in nicer estates within their original communities, displacing many onto estates miles away from where they'd started and leaving others stuck in condemned slum housing.]
i think it's worth noting that - while the perception of someone who lives in council housing has become exceptionally negative since the 1980s, in the 60s it was still considered perfectly respectable to live in council housing which might have looked like this:
[none of which, i imagine, are still in use as council stock...]
certainly, it was considered infinitely more respectable than living in the slums.
the sorts of council tenants who would end up in these houses often had a reputation for their own version of "keeping up appearances" - tidy gardens, community interaction, not behaving in "rough" ways - which is very similar to how this is performed by the middle-classes, but which still has a distinctly working-class flavour - particularly when it comes to the perception of jobs, education, and what one receives from the state.
mr evans could, for example, have a trade and still think of himself [and expect to be perceived in society] as meaningfully more sophisticated than a low-skilled and frequently-unemployed mill-worker, like tobias snape - especially if he was something like a plumber, electrician, or gas-fitter. this would be the case even though both of these jobs can be described as "blue collar".
and i like these really minor distinctions because they play up just how petty the performance of class is in britain - but they also reveal just how thorny and multi-layered it is at the same time. this really vibes with how i see petunia: petty and competitive and obsessed with rules which people outside of her class bracket don't care about [i.e. how marge doesn't give a fuck about the prim middle-class manners the adult petunia will come to pride herself on] and worried about the fragility of her position and very much faking it until she makes it - and also complex and multi-layered and inextricable from the long and complicated history of social class in the twentieth century.
two final points: on the names, i basically think that the fact she's called petunia is a little wink to the camera for the mams and dads in 1997 reading the books at home with their children - "petunia dursley" is absolutely intended to remind you of "hyacinth bucket", the social-climbing protagonist of the bbc sitcom keeping up appearances. that character was also a working-class lass who ascended to the middle, and who went to extraordinary lengths to keep that hidden from the upper-middle-class circles she was desperate to access...
and the main thing which i think "others" the snapes? religion. i am wedded to the idea of tobias as a catholic of northern irish extraction - which would have been accompanied by all sorts of stereotypes about fecklessness [drunkenness, having too many children who can't be paid for, violence] which, when compounded by him living in a slum and being unemployed, would have turned him into someone the evanses would have seen it as entirely appropriate to define themselves against even if they nominally shared a social class.
this would only have got worse as the 1970s began...
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saltburn and privilege; an investigative tangent
god, where to begin.
i've seen a lot of people discussing this moving and specifically using the word "privilege," along with power, dominance, desire, control, greed, etc. me included. these are all very essential aspects of this movie. what i want to focus on is emerald fennell's nuanced portrayal of how different types of privilege interact. which one trumps the other? which types of privilege are more visible, while others are more subtle? what differentiates different levels and layers of privilege?
when emerald fennell describes the core of this movie, her inspiration for this script, she talks about desire versus untouchability. she chose the most absurd type of wealth to represent untouchability: the british aristocracy. old wealth, generational wealth, so far removed from the majority of their ancestors' sins that they can arguably ignore that the money they're standing on is dirty. and they live in fucking castles. this is one of the most unbelievable, gaudy, visible types of privilege you can imagine. everyone is entirely aware and feels entirely justified to call attention to this type of privilege.
oliver, being the main character, might be considered the least privileged within this movie. i'd like to take a critical look at this. this movie is not a straightforward class commentary; there is no traditional "the poor eat the rich" dynamic. because although some people perceive oliver as the least privileged character in this movie, he is incredibly privileged. oliver comes from a comfortable upper-middle-class home in the suburbs. oliver has two loving parents and two sisters. oliver is white. oliver is a man. interestingly, from oliver's perspective, he's not privileged at all. he hates the cattons because they are more wealthy, more comfortable, more untouchable. this extends to venetia and farleigh, even though oliver has applicable layers of privilege stacked above even them. he knows he has a certain type of power over them... yet he still hates them because they have one type of power he doesn't have.
that brings me to my next point. the existence of one type of privilege does not negate the effects of another, entirely different, type of privilege (or marginalization) [quote]. this is what venetia and farleigh's characters draw attention to. venetia experiences some of the same struggles as many women; she is ignored in her own household, perpetually existing within her brother's shadow (rosamund pike once lovingly pointed out that venetia does not have a single conversation with elspeth in this movie). she's insecure about her body and her worth, so she takes what little opportunity she has to use felix's friends as a form of self-fulfillment. farleigh is not only half black, but he's also queer, non-immediate family, and unaccustomed to english culture (specifically this type of english culture). farleigh is, in some ways, more financially unstable than oliver's family because his mom was too sheltered to understand money and his dad is, apparently, "a lunatic." (that's not to say farleigh isn't economically privileged because oh boy, he absolutely is).
this movie doesn't intend to incite pity from the viewers for any of these characters, and it generally doesn't. oliver is pathetically greedy, ungrateful, and desperate for a chance to lick the boots (or bathtubs) of those above him. venetia is pathetically bored of the privilege she does have yet is still so entrenched in emotional turmoil due to other areas in which she is marginalized. farleigh is pathetically attached to uninterrupted comfort and arbitrary white-centric expectations, constantly running from or attacking any threat of struggle. none of these people understand, comparatively, what the less fortunate experience. they are so ignorant to the bubble they exist in and just how grateful they should be for what monumental privileges they do have. but... felix.
felix is the epitome of privilege. oliver is specifically obsessed with felix. just like oliver, felix is a white man. but felix is more wealthy, more comfortable, more untouchable than oliver. oliver isn't as infatuated with farleigh and venetia because he's fully aware of the privilege they lack. he's fully aware of the privilege he holds above them, and he enthusiastically uses this power he has against them. to be in the position of oliver is to be consumed by jealousy and greed so bottomless that you will assert your dominance over any group that you're able to. felix doesn't need to do this. he's been handed every privilege under the sun and therefor welcomes the less fortunate with childlike interest and an equally childlike attention span. there's an aspect of farleigh and venetia's marginalization that is so invisible, so quiet and unassuming, that felix doesn't even notice it. he can't possibly be confronted by it. to be in the position of oliver is to understand what power you hold over others, because there is always more power to have.
racism, sexism, wealth, power, control, desire. there are so many facets of this movie that come into play. it may seem overwhelming, but this is... how things work. commentary on wealth is, and should be, equally a commentary on other areas of privilege. to be black and wealthy means different things than to be white and wealthy. to be a wealthy woman means different things than to be a wealthy man. to be rich to some also means you're much less rich than others, unless you're the richest person in the world. and, as this movie so beautifully portrays, to be richer than most doesn't make you less messy. the catton family is an ugly one, but also a complexly human one. each catton (or start) is jealous of someone else for another reason. each catton is emotionally damaged or incompetent for another reason. each catton has a different layer of privilege over the other. and each catton loves everyone in saltburn, because this is still a family, albeit a terrible one.
#saltburn#saltburn 2023#oliver quick#felix catton#venetia catton#farleigh start#elspeth catton#sir james catton#ahhh to be a rich white man#felix is portrayed as some godlike mythic creature for a reason#he's literally just a guy#oliver is also a rich white man#yet he sees someone more rich than him and starts frothing at the mouth#i know i said all the characters r pathetic but venetia and farleigh are a special kind of pathetic#i could genuinely see those two popping their little bubble and getting a grip#well vee is dead as hell#farleigh though.#or maybe hilton als was fully correct and farleigh will keep being the token non-white LMFAO#als was so real for that#i like to stay hopeful though
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random cod hcs #2 - graves pt2
more headcanons of everyone's favorite little american asshole. after this i'll try posting some other characters. also peek the pricenikgraves at the end, i may post about that ship only at some point. anyway hc time
since i mentioned him cooking in the last post, this man loves to barbecue just as much as he loves making breakfast. usually it's steaks, ones that he's marinated. he'll cook corn on the grill with the steak too. he puts on music when he's barbecuing, and this is one of the times he's most relaxed. it reminds him of his dad (because my dad does this)
he definitely has a small food garden, nothing fancy but he enjoys it all the same. when asked why he has a garden he'll say it's because fresh food is better, which he does believe, but he also just likes gardening. i imagine he has things like tomatoes, basil, cilantro, etc
he also grows flowers but he doesn't talk about it. people he cares about will randomly have a small vase of their favorite flowers on their desk. he never mentions it at all, though
on this, he would be constantly gifting his s/o their favorite flowers, flowers in their favorite colors, etc. whole bouquets, that he's grown, just for them
more on him and his s/o, he's definitely a morning person so his s/o would wake up to find breakfast on the table and coffee/tea ready (whatever their preference is). he would learn what time they usually wake up just to have breakfast freshly made for them
one more thing on him and his s/o, he will call them "doll" all the time. of course he uses "darlin" too, as well as "sweetheart". if his s/o is fem presenting, he'll call them "princess" too
so i mentioned that he's a morning person, but when he's still waking up his accent is a bit more prominent (from part one, because this is a country boy). when he's getting ready for bed, too, he's tired enough for it to slip out some
he hums to himself when he's working, it's something he doesn't even realize he does. he'll have a song stuck in his head and absentmindedly hum as he works on whatever he has to do. occasionally he'll sing quietly, but again he's too focused on his work to really be aware of it. none of the shadows will tell him, either, they enjoy hearing him and don't want him to stop
and as promised, here's some pricenikgraves as a bonus
price and nikolai both are constantly finding new vases of flowers around their offices/whatever. usually their favorite flowers, i'm talking top five favorites. they don't even know how graves figured out their favorite flowers, or what ones they look best paired with. they also don't know when he puts the vases in their places. they just walk in and find another vase has appeared, usually with a little note reminding the two to take care or that graves loves them or whatever else
graves also has learned both price's and nikolai's favorite foods as well as their favorite treats/desserts. he will spend all day in the kitchen on their birthdays so they can have the perfect birthday dinner and dessert. but also, if he notices one of them has been having a hard time, he will suddenly show up with their favorite snacks and treats, and make them take a break
#phillip graves#cod graves#pricenikgraves#nikpricegraves#cod headcanons#cod hcs#cod#call of duty modern warfare
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“Signor Marcovaldo is my father, call me Alberto, Alby…or Maestro 😏”
If we’re talking predictability in design, adult Alberto was NOT easy. I had literally nothing to work from. No (living?) family to compare to, no hints at what kindof quirks he may develop. I had nothing!
All I had was that (assumed) deep-seated desire to be accepted, useful/helpful, and not left behind…..that, and yanno, that Charisma In Excess (as a KID no less, dude calm that shxt down or you’re grounded lol)
Alot of pawing around in the dark and just going with what felt right to me.
I took some cues here and there. Some pretty forward and commonly accepted (“You, the big strong one.” etc), others subtle and unassuming but I ran like the wind with it?
Anyway, here we go. What’s the deal with this walking bowl of spaghetti anyhow?
This will be a two parter. His seamonster form requires a separate post.
Alberto as I said is a bit of a wild card. He doesn’t have as much of an obvious blueprint compared to Luca or Giulia.
His physical appearance for his human form was based solely on environmental influence.
Physically I imagined him to be a bit rough around the edges. Kindof gaunt but not so much that he looks sick or weak. He’s pretty much just one big muscle. Not an ounce of fat on him. Nothing but sinew. Very toned and muscular but certainly not huge. He’s just solid and FIT.
He’s a guy from the docks. He’s a fisherman. He’s salty and peppered in scars. Heavy calloused hands. He picked up smoking at a young age. He spends endless hours in the sun, thus he’s still very freckly as an adult. His impulsive ass got a tooth busted out in a fist-fight. Five o clock shadow and untidy sandy facial hair. I imagined his hair growing more “out and up” than down. Tight coils suggest he’d likely have a ‘fro or pomp, so I combined the two, keeping that old Alberto “top heavy” hairdo lol.
Profoundly Italian, so he’s pretty furry everywhere. Being a hard worker for years, excessive sun exposure, substance use, he looks alittle “older” than he actually is. (Pushing 34 ish).
I made him very tall, 6’4” ish. I admit, I love a good “Tall Man x Small Man” dynamic, so that’s definitely a shameless “luberto-centric” choice lol But I also considered a funny “goldfish” concept where just like a goldfish only gets bigger when his bowl is bigger…perhaps nature was trying to make him “compete” and measure up or even end up bigger than Massimo. 😆
If there’s one thing I learned from “Ciao Alberto” it’s that Alberto has a deep desire to be useful and accepted. He tries through the entire film to impress Massimo and in turn hope Massimo accepts him and sees Alberto can be just as good at his knife-wielding barrel heaving badassery as he is.
Alberto ultimately ending up as a fisherman by trade was an easy choice. Not only do I write what I know (being a Mainer in the coast with a deep affinity with fishermen and shipbuilders) but it is the ultimate way to show his love for Massimo. To help carry on the legacy.
Alberto has mastered some unlikely skills as well. Not as unlikely as you’d expect though considering his desire to impress Massimo.
So consider this:
-Alright, Massimo is great at cooking. Alberto sucks EPICALLY at first but over time, his motivation to measure up to his hero and dad-figure makes him an amazing cook? Check.
-Massimo likes to sing. Alberto picks it up and finds he’s an Unreasonably Excellent Singer and prodigious musician who plays by ear? DOUBLE CHECK.
(Note: The lore and reasons behind this and Alberto’s mandolin will be a blogpost on its own eventually)
-Alberto being a competent and prolific/productive fisherman resulting in the family biz growing and delivering outside of Portorosso? Definitely a proud moment for Massimo.
So to me it all checks out, and drives home Alberto’s strong gumption and the next generation being better than the generation before. As a parent, I subscribe to this goal. I want my boys to be the “Big Strong Ones.”
There’s also the bit that Alberto is a bit of a lush and a party animal. Charismatic, has a bit of a Casanova complex. Charm pouring out of his ears. Why? Well, dang, I really don’t know. I guess bringing it back to that “Charisma In Excess” statement at the beginning of this, it just felt right somehow. I had it so that he really wasn’t all that conventionally attractive but had a level of animal magnetism that’s hard to resist.
There’s lore behind that too…but will be reserved for his “Fish Form” post.
I dunno, it’s probably cus he’s Italian. It could be that simple. 🤷🏻♀️
#alberto scorfano#luca1970s#pixar luca#lucafanart#albertoscorfano#discobiscotto design notes#ciaolucafic#ciaoluca#ciao luca#ciao alberto#luberto#older!alberto
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Graves + Shadows Headcanons Part 2
[Part 1] [Part 3]
Words: 794
Once, when Graves got ill, he ended up fainting in the middle of a meeting because he had been pushing himself too hard. He woke up several hours later, completely unaware of the sheer pandemonium that broke loose just after he lost consciousness. The on base medics had to kick several shadows out on multiple occasions and also nearly quit when they saw almost half the base waiting outside the room for an update on their commander. While he was forced into bedrest, at least one Shadow was stationed in his room at one given time to keep an eye out on him and make sure he had everything that he needed. Even after he got better, there was still a Shadow or two lingering outside his office-- just in case.
Graves has a habit of working himself way too hard to be healthy. As a result, the Shadows have self decided shifts where they check up on their Commander– make sure he’s eaten something or drank some water every few hours. He is just,, so bad at looking after himself sometimes. It's a good thing his Shadows are there to help.
Used to insist that the Shadows just call him Phil when they're off duty but they all said it felt wrong, so they generally stick to 'Commander' or 'Graves' but that's as far as they'd go to calling him by name.
Graves is not shy to show his soldiers physical affection, especially if he thinks that they’re touch starved. It’s mostly little things, shoulder or arm or back pats, a quick ruffle of the hair, he makes sure not to overstep any boundaries. If they ask for a little more, like a full hug, he would absolutely give it to them.
Shadow Initiation is that you have to fight against Graves. Only a few Shadows have ever successfully taken him down, but it’s very much a rite of passage if you get your ass handed to you by the Commander.
Despite all his softness, Graves can be an absolutely wicked trainer. He will push his Shadows to their limits during training, but is always mindful to not push them further than what they’re capable of.
Has attended weddings for his Shadows and has been best man(/bride's man??) for a few of them.
He absolutely has several photo albums filled to the brim with pictures of current and old shadows and likes to show it off to the new recruits/baby shadows like a proud dad.
When a Shadow dies on a mission, they are given the best send off money can buy and their families are provided for e.g. if they had kids, college tuition is fully funded etc. Financial support is provided for several years, and secretly sometimes funded from Graves' own pocket.
Took the deaths of Shadows Dipaolo, Vance and Erikson and the other Shadows on that mission pretty hard and blamed himself. So much so, that he began to doubt his ability to lead as their Commander. He couldn't even protect his soldiers, couldn't even send them reinforcements when they needed him the most. He had to listen to them die. And he won't forgive Shepherd for that.
When the Shadows realised how he felt about it, they were all quick to rush and reassure him that their loyalty to him never once wavered.
Absolutely no Shadow likes Shepherd. Not a single one. Shepherd does not visit the base that often because he genuinely thinks that the Shadows are out to get him. They are.
He spends his time on base during the holidays so those who don’t have anyone to go back to aren’t alone. On Christmas day, he makes a killer turkey roast and gets presents for everyone.
Yes, the base does get decorated during the holidays. So far, Halloween is the one that stirs up the most excitement. April Fools has been banned from being celebrated after the entirety of Graves' office got covered in sticky notes. Everything. Not even the pens were spared.
"NEVER BACK DOWN, NEVER WHAT?!” He says this every mission to get morale up, but he also says it when a Shadow is down to try and cheer them up. If they’re upset over something, he’ll nudge them with his shoulder like “Never back down never what?” and keeps saying it with a widening grin on his face until they’re chuckling with him. He stays with them until they feel better. The same has happened where a Shadow has done the same thing to him when he's seemed down or stressed.
He makes it well known to everyone that his office door is always open if anyone ever needs someone to talk to, whether that's to vent, voice any concerns or anything else.
have a request? send one in!
#//may or may not do a part 3 :)#phillip graves#modern warfare 2#modern warfare 3#shadow company#mw2#mw3#mwii#mwiii
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Writer Torn Between MC's Two Worlds
king-ofconfusion asked: I'm struggling with my story's ordinary world. The MC discovers they're from a magical world and finds their original family, but I'm not sure what to do with the MC's adoptive family. He's 20 and in college, so it's not like he needs permission to leave or there's anything blocking him from going, but I feel weird having him abandon the world he was raised in, and I don't feel like he'd lie to his loved ones about his other life. Having him tell his adoptive mom the truth and "peace out" feels very flat.
[ask heavily edited for length and content]
I see a lot of different options here...
1 - Outright Honesty/Peace Out - I don't think this is such a weird idea, actually. I have heard of international adoptees locating their birth family as an adult and leaving their adoptive country to return to their homeland/birth family. Whether or not they maintain contact and visits with their birth family depends on the relationship, but many do. On that same note, Outlander comes to mind, where there's all sorts of back and forth between worlds with the intention of never returning (of course, they always inadvertently do), but there are fated couples who "part forever" out of necessity, parents and children who "part forever" out of necessity, friends and family members who "part forever" out of necessity... and if it's good enough for a book series that has sold 50-million copies worldwide and is the basis of a popular TV series, you're in good shape. So, I think the honesty/"I need to return to my homeland" option is perfectly reasonable, especially if they can promise to keep in touch and/or visit.
2 - Necessary White Lie/Cover Story - If you're worried about the MC lying to their ordinary world family because it's out of character or you're not a fan of this kind of lie, you could always make it a necessary lie. For example, maybe the MC is warned that this fantasy can't be revealed to ordinary world dwellers. Or, maybe the MC is simply afraid that his family might sacrifice everything and follow them into the fantasy world, face danger, etc. You can definitely come up with a reason. And then being at college provides the perfect cover story. If the character can travel between worlds, you could even have them periodically return for a few days to catch up on homework, sit in on important lectures/exams, or zoom through online classes. Maybe they say they're taking half a course load so they can intern somewhere (and maybe here you can work whatever they're doing in the fantasy world into something that sounds like an applicable ordinary world job they could be shadowing). I think with some brainstorming, there are good options here.
3 - Ordinary Family is From Magical World - Another option, if it would work, would be for the adoptive "ordinary world" family to actually be from the magical world. If it would work with the MC's birth story and whatever led to them being placed in the fantasy world, maybe instead of being placed with an ordinary world family, they were sent to the ordinary world with a magical world family who is just waiting for them to be old enough to return to their rightful place. Or, you could even hybrid a little here, and maybe the MC was sent with a magical world adoptive mom or dad to the ordinary world, and there the magical world parent met an ordinary world love interest, and they started an ordinary world family together. That way, the MC's family can already have a foot in both worlds, and you can have the ordinary world parent already know the situation. That way, the MC can return to the magical world, but maybe communicate through the other family member (who maybe can travel back and forth or has powers that allows for the communication, or whatever.) Again, lots of possibilities.
I hope something here will work for you! ♥
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Hey...if requests are still open...can we have a Morpheus x Reader where one of them is a single parent and they catch the other being good to their kid and find themselves falling in love? (no smut please). Thanks!
Prince Of Stories
Dream of the Endless x Reader (but its honestly mostly Dream & Reader's child)
Summary: Your head was hurting and so Dream took it upon himself to care for your child instead.
Word Count: >500
Warnings: fem!reader, single mom!reader, girl dad energy!dream, fluff, typos, etc.
A/N: im luv papa bear!dream T_T he has a special place in my heart. i hope you like it nonnie<3
Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9
Dream came to you just when you dozed off. The room was quiet, save for the sounds of Imena talking to herself as she made a tale about the dolls sprawled before her.
Upon seeing Dream, the little girl perked and squealed, running up to him.
Dream crouched down and chuckled softly as he took his beloved's daughter into his arms. He shushed her, telling her they should not wake mommy. She readily agreed, pressing a finger to her lips.
Imena nuzzled against him tightly, telling him that she very much enjoyed the game they played in her dreams last time.
Dream pulled back to look at her and smiled, promising next time they will have much more fun.
He shushes Imena when she squeals in excitement again. She wrangles out of his arms, babbling about her toys and how she must introduce Dream to them.
Dream props her down as she rushes to her dollies.
He smiles to himself when he hears the echo of your dreams, dreams of your daughter, dreams of your future, dreams of him. He walks in front of the couch you were laid on, fixing you in your spot with a pillow and a blanket.
Imena pulls at Dream's coat, urging him to sit down on the mat with her. Upon doing so, she begins to introduce all three of her dolls to him. They were Apple, Coat, and Dream.
Dream smiles and asks if the pink doll was named after him. Imena wholeheartedly disagrees.
Dream laughs as Imena makes a spot for herself on his lap, pulling her dolls with her, "can you tell me a story, dada?"
A moment passes.
Imena waits.
Dada?
Did she just call me dada?
Imena looks up at him, wide eyes, wondering why the story was taking so long. She raises her dolls in hopes it would help clarify, "with my dolls, please?"
Dream's blue eyes are glassy and his chest his tight with emotions he could not put into words.
Imena blinks slowly, wondering what her mistake was. She tries, "pretty please?"
Dreams breath hitches and quickly replies, "of course. Of course, my love."
And so Dream makes what perhaps was the greatest story ever told and ever will told in the history of stories. He brings the dolls to life, literally,and they prance before father and daughter, as the minutes went by.
You had woken up somewhere in the middle of all of it, concerned at first by the loudness of your daughter's exclaims, but then you felt a swell of joy in your heart when you what had prompted it. You saw your two favorite people bond with each other and it was truly a sight to behold.
You scratched away the happy tears in your eyes before they could fall.
Dream was genuinely shocked to find you were awake when he finished his story, as he was so caught up in telling it, he did not even feel you exit his realm.
"Did you have a good sleep, my love?" Dream reaches out to you as he cradles the child whose excitement quickly reclined into tiredness after the story.
You nod at him, lips curved into a fond smile. You rub Imena's back, after taking Dream's hand and moving in for an embrace. You press a kiss on his jaw, "not as good as her sleep will be after that story though."
#dream of the endless fanfic#dream of the endless fluff#the sandman fanfic#the sandman fluff#the sandman x reader#morpheus fluff#the sandman x you#dream x you#dream fanfic#dream of the endless x reader#dream of the endless x you#morpheus x reader#morpheus x you#dad!dream of the endless#dad!dream#girl dad!dream#papa bear!dream
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Shadow of Yourself [6/18]
Prompt: “You’ve changed, Eli. I barely even know who you are right now.”
A/N: here concludes season two! i really enjoyed writing this part and i am so excited to jump into season three :)
Based off of: Cobra Kai 02x06, 02x07, 02x08, 02x09 and 02x10
Warnings: some swear words (because tumblr apparently doesn’t like that), poorly written fighting scene, bullying, etc.
Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x F!Reader
Tag List: @moonydrafts - @ashwhowrites - @traveleraroundsworld - @truly-abysmal - @likecherriesinthespring - @hollxe1 - @asonofpeter - @scarlett-verse - @musically-ambiguous - @kayda1 - @moon-zoons - @dwcode - @day-dreamsinthedark - @leilani788 - @silvermagnolias - @hawkinsavclub - @animewolflover278 - @gruffle1 - @b-tchymoon - @maggiecc - @beetea38 - @hawkinsavclub1983 - @crpytids - @embersparklz - @kimilight - @httpjiikook - @marauderssmut - @fyckcore - @multinci - @lqveabby - @oh-well-whatever-nevermind - @redskull199987 - @silvermagnolias - @shortneko - @okjaeminn - @thecyclonetragedy - @vamproq - @siriusfahey - @cobrakaigirlie -
if you’re in italics, tumblr wont let me tag you.
JUST ONE MOMENT:
Won’t be back until the end of the month.
You stare blankly at the text from your mom, unsure how to feel. She was supposed to be back tonight. Literally tonight. And this time, you really thought she was going to be back…
It was the closest you’d gotten without her calling you to tell you she’d be coming home later. You’d allowed your hopes to get up and now you were paying for it. You knew not to… you knew not to let your hopes get up and to think she’d actually, for once, come home.
But you had. Because you needed her. You needed your mom. After everything that’s happened, all you wanted was for her to tell you it’d be okay.
You hadn’t even gotten a call this time. Just a text. A stupid, meaningless text.
Feeling your eyes burn, you quickly click off your phone. You don’t want to look at it anytime—you can’t stand those words staring back at you, almost mockingly, like a constant reminder that she wasn’t here and you don’t know when she would be.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Jumping at the sound of Robby’s voice, you spin around to face him, eyes wide as he stares back at you in concern. You shift your gaze past him, to Sam and Demetri who are still trying to lift that damned rock, and curse silently. You thought no one had been paying attention when you snuck off at the sight of a text from your mom.
Clearly, you were wrong.
Wiping at your tears and cheeks hastily, you shake your head; “I’m fine.”
Robby seems hesitant, brows furrowing as he takes a small step towards you. “A-Are you sure? I mean—”
“I said I’m fine, Robby!”
Rearing back at your sudden outburst, Robby blinks, a flash of hurt flickering across his face that has you instantly regretting the way you’d yelled at him. “Alright, sorry. I’ll just…”
“No, Robby, I’m sorry,” you sigh, reaching out for him and pulling him to a gentle stop. He turns to you as you do and you offer your best apologetic smile that probably looks a little meaningless considering there are still beads of tears building in your eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get mad. It’s just my… my mom.”
Robby instantly pauses at that, the expression on his face changing. “Your mom?”
“Yeah, she… she’s away a lot for business and I never see her. She was supposed to be back home tonight, but something happened… again. And she won’t be back until the end of the month.” Then, pausing, you shrug. “Maybe. I don’t know anymore.”
Lips parting, Robby’s eyes soften. “What about your dad?”
“He died when I was a kid,” you explain, swallowing thickly. “I never really knew him.”
“Oh.”
“I’m just not… used to telling people this. I’ve only ever really told Eli this and a little bit of it to Demetri so…”
Robby’s quirks a brow; “the kid with the mohawk?”
Shoulders falling, you nod. “Yeah, he used to be… well, not like that.”
Robby nods and an awkward silence falls over the both of you. You’ve never really told anyone your home situation, besides Eli and Demetri, and you’re not really sure how Robby will react.
Or, even, why you told him.
It just… it felt like he’d understand.
“My mom left me alone to go to Cabo with her boyfriend and my dad is currently the one running Cobra Kai.”
Eyes widening at Robby’s confession, you blink, head jerking back in surprise as he, oddly enough, smiles down at you. He’s smiling in a way that’s meant to comfort you, tell you you’re not alone because he understands.
He gets it.
“Johnny Lawrence is your dad?” You question, leaning towards him in disbelief.
Robby laughs, “yup.”
“Woah…” you breathe, giggling lightly at the revelation—you would’ve never guessed that.
“See, there ya go.” Turning to Robby in confusion at his words, he just shakes his head. “I got you to laugh.”
Cheeks warming slightly at his words, you flicker your gaze to your feet, stunned silent on what to say. For a boy who’d originally avoided you and glared at you any chance he got—he was honestly, very sweet. And it was nice to know that there was at least someone who understands what it felt like to be alone.
To have no one to go home to.
To have no parents to rely on.
“Thank you, Robby,” you say after a moment, meeting his eyes with a smile. “I really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” he nods, before pausing in thought. “You’re okay, though? Like you have food and water and—”
“I’m okay, Robby,” you cut in gently, shaking your head to wave away his worries. “My mom pays for everything still. I guess she still cares enough to make sure I have a roof under my head.”
Robby shoulders fall with ease; “good. Mr. Larusso and his family are allowing me to stay with him because of my mom and I just wanted to make sure.”
Lips parting, you shake your head. “You’re staying with Sam and her family?”
Brows furrowing in confusion, Robby nods slowly. “Yeah?”
“That must be interesting for you and Sam.”
“What?”
You just snort, “the two of you clearly like each other.”
Robby’s cheeks redden almost immediately and his eyes widen, this sort of panicked look washing over his face as he steps closer to you, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Is it that obvious?”
Giggling, you shrug; “a little.”
Robby sighs, brushing his hair back before he blinks and suddenly, a frown mares his lips. “Doesn’t matter though,” he sighs, “Sam doesn’t return the feelings anymore.”
Quirking a brow, you turn to Robby in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”
“What?”
“Anybody who pays attention can see she’s constantly watching you, and she hangs on to your every word. She’s been trying to dress up a little more to impress you and,” turning to Robby, you laugh at the look on his face. “Need I go on?”
Blushing heavily, Robby shakes his head. “No, I’m good. Thanks.” Then, shuffling on his feet slightly, Robby just huffs. “I just—”
“Uh, excuse me?” A new voice cuts off Robby, causing you to turn around slightly, looking towards the entrance of Miyagi-Do. Your eyes widen when you see a few of the boys from the mall attack. “Is this Miyago-Do?”
“Yeah,” Mr. Larusso answers, pushing himself to a stand.
Robby takes one look at you and then back at Sam, before he’s suddenly rushing past you to make his way over to them. “Come back for another beating?”
“Hey, Robby! Robby!” Mr. Larusso calls out, taking Robby by the arm and stopping him before he can do anything.
“This is one of the guys who was beating on Demetri!” Robby explains, his hand held forward in gesture. “Probably helped trash the dojo.”
Faltering at Robby’s words, you bite your lip.
“We didn’t have anything to do with that,” the boy argues, shaking his head. “But I am sorry about what happened at the mall,” he apologizes, purposely leaning up to speak past Robby and Mr. Larusso and at Demetri himself. “We just wanna learn Miyagi-Do karate.”
“I’d be careful about this, Mr. L,” Demetri warns, “letting the Cobra Kai’s into Miyagi-Do. It’s like letting the wildlings behind the Wall.”
Mr. Larusso pauses in thought, before turning to Demetri. “Didn’t the wildlings help Jon Snow win the Battle of the Bastards?”
Blinking, you’re surprised—you wouldn’t have thought Mr. Larusso would know Game of Thrones.
Demetri pauses in thought, before scoffing; “should’ve picked a different analogy.”
Mr. Larusso turns back to the boy; “we’re happy to have you.” Then, extending his hand out in a handshake, Mr. Larusso smiles. “Nice to meet you.”
You meet Robbys gaze before glancing past him at Demetri. Biting your lip, you make your way over to Demetri, setting your hand on his shoulder. “Give him a chance, Demetri.” You meet his gaze, “we know perfectly well what Cobra Kai can do to a person.”
And at the look Demetri sends you, you both know he can’t argue with that.
-
Hey. Can we talk?
That’s what the text had read.
Only, it had come from Moon.
It felt weird, skipping out in karate lessons today. After yesterday, it was amazing to see not only more people join Miyagi-Do but for you all to come together as a class. Demetri and Chris had managed to lift that stupid, heavy rock together which you’d thought would be impossible considering how heavy it was.
Mr. Larusso had shared his experience of when he’d joined Cobra Kai and how it had changed him as a person—it made you think of Eli. Of how much he’d changed. Of how different he was.
But it was what Mr. Larusso said that brought you all together.
And now, for your first real class all together, you weren’t going to be there.
Mr. Larusso was understanding about it all, and said that when I was ready I could come back whenever I needed. When you had gotten the text from Moon, it felt wrong to just ignore it. Even though you barely knew the girl, it was still sweet that she reached out to you.
You didn’t know why but… it was still sweet
So, now, you were standing in her bedroom, awkwardly waiting for her to come back with some drinks. You’d insisted you didn’t need anything, but she’d insisted otherwise and had promptly left, leaving you no room for any argument.
“I got us some lemonade, if that’s okay?”
Turning around at the sound of Moon’s voice, you smile gently at the hopeful look in her gaze, nodding your head. “Yeah, that’s totally fine. Th-Thank you,” you offer, unable to stop the slight shake in your voice as you take the glass from her hand. You feel a little awkward, unsure on what to say–you’ve never really spoken to Moon before. She was friends with Yasmine and for as long as you can remember, she’d always been beside her laughing. Sure she’s apologize but, after all that, she’d been Eli’s girlfriend–he’d replaced you with her in a second and although it wasn’t her fault, you hadn’t known how to talk to her.
It was too hard. Because every time you saw her, you thought of Eli making out with her at that party and it felt like your heart had been ripped in half all over again.
“Are you nervous?”
She’s smiling as she asks, moving to take a seat on her bed, an act you follow two seconds after her. You sit on her bed apprehensively, holding the glass of lemonade tightly towards yourself–it’s the one thing stopping yourself from shaking currently.
Swallowing thickly, you raise a brow; “is it that obvious?”
She laughs lightly, “a little.”
“Sorry,” you admit, lowering your gaze. “I just… I guess I just don’t know why you wanted to talk to me.”
“Hawk and I broke up.” She explains, causing you to turn to her in bafflement, lips parting. She laughs lightly at the look on your face, noticing the small bit of twisted relief that washes over your face as you take in her words. “I broke up with him, after what he did to Demetri.”
“Oh,” you mumble, stunned by her explanation. Demetri had told you countless times how nice Moon really was, and it wasn’t that you hadn’t necessarily believed him, it was just hard to listen to that with everything that’s happened. But as you assumed, Moon really was such a nice person–for her to break up with Eli because of what he’d done to Demetri… well, it showed she really did care about Demetri.
“But I also know that you liked him,” she adds, “like him.”
Feeling your cheeks warm, you tense.
“I don’t know what happened between you guys. But I do know he cares for you. He tried to be subtle about it, but every time you weren’t there, he’d ask where you were. And every time your name came up, there’d be this look in his eyes…” Smiling softly in thought, Moon shrugs. “I just wanted you to know that I’m done with him and really, I should’ve broken it off with him long ago. It wasn’t fair of me to do that to you.”
Disbelief running through you, you adamantly shake your head. “No, no, Moon… it wasn’t your fault.” Then, pausing, you falter slightly. “I didn’t know he… I’m so sorry.”
“Hey, you can’t help your feelings, right?” She laughs before pausing, shifting her body so she’s meeting your gaze properly, nodding. “And he really does like you, Y/N. That much I can tell.”
“Yeah, well…” Brushing your hair back, you shake your head. “I also can’t forgive what he did to Demetri.”
Moon nods, a solemn expression crossing her features before she’s grinning up at you. “Enough about boys,” she laughs, setting her hand on your arm gently as you turn to her in confusion. “I didn’t just call you over for just that. Honestly, I’d… I’d like to be your friend… if you want?”
Moon wanted to be… your friend?
“I’d… I’d love to,” you whisper, smiling gently at her.
She beams, clapping her hands excitedly before herself. “Perfect! We have so much to catch up on!”
You smile as she continues to talk, feeling your heart soar at the thought of the two of you friends. While she’d never been the main perpetrator, you’d always thought Moon had thought of you how Yasmine had–you thought she hated you. And then, if you were being honest, maybe a part of you had hated her as well. For dating Eli, for getting to be the one he kisses, the one who holds his hand…
But she really was just as nice as Demetri said she was.
For her to recognize your feelings for Eli, for her to recognize Eli’s feelings as well and not feel jealous or mad that he’d been, well, unfair to her in their relationship… it was incredibly mature and understanding of her. Any girl would feel jealous and hurt if the boy they liked and were dating clearly showed signs of affection for another girl.
But Moon?
Moon just wanted to be your friend.
-
“I’m just not sure a party is the best idea right now.”
“You’re the one who said you wanted to come because Moon asked you.”
Moving to send a glare over your shoulder at Demetri, you scoff at the grin on his face. “Haha,” you drawl, shaking your head at him as he lightly bumps his shoulder into your own. “You’re so funny.”
“I am hilarious,” he laughs, “besides, I brought trivial pursuit and I know how much you love trivial pursuit.”
“Yeah,” you grin, “because I always kick your ass.”
Scoffing, Demetri shakes his head; “you beat me one time.”
“Two times.”
“One.”
“Two!”
Chris rolls his eyes from beside you, shaking his head. “Do you two ever not argue?”
Turning to Chris, your eyes twinkle; “yes. Demetri and I actually get along quite well.”
He just snorts, “clearly it’s when no one else is around.”
Meeting Demetri’s gaze, the two of you shrug, continuing to make your way up the steps leading to Moon’s house. “There’s already a lot of people here,” you comment, glancing around at the amount of people already loitering around her lawn.
“Yeah,” Sam nods, “I guess Moon must have invited other kids from school.”
“If I’d known there’d be this many people, I would’ve brought Balderdash,” Demetri sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. You just laugh at his words, offering a hand on his shoulders in an attempt for comfort before the group of you make your way into Moon’s house.
It’s quite crowded inside as well, music blaring while boys and girls alike drink and chat amongst each other. You have a lot more hope for this highschool party then you had the last, and plan to just enjoy yourself–tonight was about you. And you planned on keeping it that way.
At least, that was what you thought until you saw Eli, along with his friends, sitting on the coach across from you.
Actually all of Cobra Kai is there.
“I’ll get you next time, okay?”
And of course, Miguel walks through the door with his new girlfriend, Tory, who you’ve had the pleasure of hearing Sam complain to you about plenty of times. You’d personally never spoken to the girl, but if the look on Sam and Robby’s face are anything to go by, or even Miguel and Tory’s, this just turned a whole lot more tense.
“Let’s go,” Tory calls out, pulling Miguel with her.
“Sam! Y/N!” At the sound of your voice, you ease slightly at the sight of Moon making her way over to the both of you. “I’m so glad you came. The kegs are out back, drinks are in the kitchen, and the vegan pigs in a blanket just got out of the oven.”
“Moon,” Sam quickly says, “you never said anything about inviting Cobra Kai.”
“Well, I figured with summer ending and school starting back up, we could stop all the fighting and be friends again.”
Honestly, it didn't sound like such a bad idea to you.
“It’s wishful thinking,” Sam frowns.
“Sam, trust me. Get rid of all this negative energy. Clear your chakras and have some fun.”
She sends one last smile at you before walking off. You turn to Robby and Sam as the three of you are left alone, not having noticed Demetri or Chris walk off in the midst of it all. “Well, I mean,” you speak up, pulling both of their eyes on you, you smile. “It’s worth a shot, no?”
By the look you receive, you get your answer pretty quick.
-
Eli hasn’t taken his eyes off of you all night.
You can feel his stare digging into your back everywhere you go. You’d made the mistake of meeting his gaze briefly when you were talking to Moon, only for him to quickly look away pretending as if he hadn’t been watching.
You tried to ignore it, using alcohol as a way to get him and everything else off your mind. Sam and Robby had gone off somewhere, you’re not exactly sure where, and when you’d tried to find Miguel to catch up with him, he was busy with Tory. Last you checked, Demetri was trying to get Chris and a few others to play trivial pursuit with him and despite what you had said when first heading into the party, you didn’t really feel like playing a board game.
It didn’t help that the one time Eli wasn’t watching you, he was flirting with some random girl.
It made you think of Moon’s words–but I do know he cares for you–did he really?
You couldn’t figure it out.
He was so confusing. All of it was so confusing and you couldn’t be bothered to deal with it tonight. This whole thing has been one mess from start to finish and you weren’t even at the finish line yet.
So, chugging back your fifth drink of the night, you choose to ignore it. You were always the one who played it safe, you were always the one who took care of others. Weren’t you allowed to have some fun?
So what if you wanted to drink? You felt you were perfectly justified in that want.
Especially because every single sip made ignoring Eli just a little bit easier.
So when your visions getting a little bit blurrier and it’s getting harder for you to walk without stumbling about, you simply ignore all the warning calls in your head. Who cared? Not you. Not anymore. Or at least, not at this moment. You wanted to have fun, like Moon said, and you were going to do so.
You’re making your way through the crowd when you trip over your own footing, losing your balance enough that you feel yourself soaring forward. Your mind isn’t sober enough to be able to catch yourself and somewhere, in your fumble of thoughts, it crosses your mind that you’re going to fall. But you hardly care or realize, and then suddenly before you hit the ground there’s a pair of arms catching you, pulling you upright as you giggle at the sensation.
Once you’re upright, your eyes squint at the boy in front of you, trying to figure out who it is. But it isn’t someone you recognize.
“My hero,” you giggle up at the boy, shuffling on your feet while holding onto his arms.
“Woah,” the boy calls out, stumbling back slightly as you lean your full weight against him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect,” you grin, though it’s clearly a lie. You can barely stand on your own two feet without swaying on your feet and your words are slightly slurred, or at the very least slow. “How are you?”
“I’m–”
“Hey, beat it!”
Suddenly the hands holding you shift and you’re passed into another awaiting pair of hands. You rear slightly at the movement, your vision blurring as you feel the world tilt slightly, a sick feeling flooding you as you try to gather your bearings. There’s yelling next to you, but you can’t make it out clearly.
“I was just helping–”
“I’ll kick your a** if you try something like that again. F*ck off.”
Was that… that sounded like Eli…
Tilting your head back, you’re faced with red and a pair of eyes shifting to stare down at you. You instantly recognize them, even in your intoxicated state, and suddenly, everything becomes a little more clear when you realize it’s Eli holding you. “Eli?” You call out, brows furrowed in confusion as you stare up at him. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you,” he grunts, shifting you slightly against him, “how much have you had to drink?”
Mood soured at the sight of him–the one person you’ve been trying to avoid all night–you try to push yourself out of his arms. It’s a futile effort. You may have sobered up enough to recognize who it was holding you, but you’re still drunk, and your arms aren’t working the way you want them. Your legs either. You’re too weak to push him away and honestly, you’re not sure if you could even stand properly if you did manage to push him away.
“None of your business,” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.
Eli scoffs, “clearly too much.”
You weakly push against him; “leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“You can barely stand,” Eli reminds, quirking a brow down at you as you turn your head away. Despite your words, Eli can’t help but smile slightly at the pout on your face–it’s incredibly cute and it’s been a long time since he’s been able to have you this close to him. He likes it. It feels natural. Reminds him of how it used to be, and he’s reluctant to let you go.
“I can stand perfectly fine.” You argue, puffing your cheeks out.
Wanting to make a point, Eli steps back, slipping his arm from your waist. You balance on your feet for no more than a few seconds before the world tilts once more and suddenly you’re swaying. Eli catches you around the waist once more, holding you up against himself as he grins down at you.
“See?”
“Shut up,” you mumble, cheeks red slightly in embarrassment. “Still don’t want to talk to you.”
Eli’s shoulders fall. “Come on, Y/N. What’s it gonna take for you to talk to me again?”
Turning to him, you huff; “apologize to Demetri.”
His face falls, eyes narrowing as he scoffs, shaking his head.
“See? Until you–”
“Excuse me! I’d like to make a toast.”
Both you and Eli pause at the interruption, your head turning only to see Demetri, up near the speakers with a microphone in hand. You blink at the sight, pausing in confusion as you feel Eli’s grip on you tighten.
“To Eli Moskowitz.”
Suddenly, you have a very bad feeling about this.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Demetri laughs. “Some of you might know him as Hawk. But underneath that crazy clown cosplay and whatever type of Manic Panic he dumps in his hair, he’s still good old Eli. My binary brother.”
You turn to look at Eli. His attention isn’t on you, but his jaw is clenched and there’s anger in his eyes. The hand not holding you is clenched tightly, knuckles white. It’s then you notice Aisha and one of his other friends stood next to him.
“Well, he was my binary brother.” Demetri corrects, tilting his head. “You know what he is now? A real zero.” And for emphasis, he makes a zero with his hand, making direct eye contact with Eli.
“All right, that’s enough, Demetri,” Eli calls out.
“Don’t let that angry red hairdo fool you,” Demetri brushes him off, “he’s a big softie. We watched every Harry Potter movie together. And he bawled like a baby when Dobby died.”
A chorus of laughs echo, and you feel yourself tense. One look at Eli and you know he’s about ready to lose it.
Demetri adds to it by mocking his crying.
“All right, if he doesn’t shut up,” Eli speaks up, turning to his friend, Mitch you believe his name is. “I’m gonna shut him up.”
“Remember what Sensei said about showing mercy.”
Demetri continues, adding more salt to the wound as Eli’s eyes fall on you. You swallow thickly as he turns to you, a grimace on his face and the hurt clear in his gaze as he meets your eyes. “Do you see what I mean?” He asks, gesturing to Demetri. “He deserves it. He’s too much of a pussy to confront me himself.”
You’re too drunk for this. That much is clear. You’re not processing things clearly. Why was Demetri doing this? Yes, what Eli had done at the mall was horrible and he deserved some sort of payback for it but this? This felt too far. This felt…—but then again, was it? Demetri didn’t know about the dojo and that it was Eli’s fault, but you did. You knew it. It was Eli’s fault. Not to mention, Eli’s been practically terrorizing Demetri. You knew that. Demetri told you, you witnessed it–so why did you feel bad for Eli right now?
“In the words of Eli’s hero, Steve Jobs, ‘I’ve got one more thing’. Have any of you heard of sleep enuresis?”
Eli tenses next to you, body completely freezing.
“Don’t.”
“That is the medical term, of course. In the King’s English, it’s good old-fashioned bed-wetting.”
Blinking, you shake your head; “Demetri.”
But he just shakes his head, eyes flickering from you back to Eli. “Eli here is a pro. My mom even had a special air mattress for sleepovers. And she called it…. ‘Eli’s waterbed’.”
Once again a chorus of laughter echoes.
Eli’s shifting, letting go of you in a fit of rage as you wobble on your feet. “Scr*w mercy,” he growls, “you’re a corpse!”
You reaching for him, missing his arm just by an inch. “Wait, Eli!”
He doesn’t listen to you, stomping forward before Chris steps in his way. “You’re gonna have to go through me.”
“Stay out of it, traitor!”
It’s all happening so fast. Robby’s stepping forward the second Eli makes a move towards Chris, “hey, don’t touch him.”
“Or what?” Aisha snaps, eyes set dead on Robby.
“Guys,” Moon calls, stepping beside them. “Stop. We’re friends.”
The world feels as if it’s spinning. You can barely process what’s happening.
“Oh!” Someone calls from the crowd, “I smell a rumble!”
All of a sudden there’s a flash of red, then blue and the familiar sound of a police siren echoes.
“Cops!”
Everyone moves to scatter, panic flooding the entire crowd.
“Demetri!” You hear Eli bellow distantly, suddenly unable to stand straight as you feel the sick feeling in your stomach once again. “You got lucky! I’ll see you in school!”
Distantly, you realize you need to get away before the cops come. Given how much alcohol you’ve drank, you’ll be in even more trouble. But you can’t really see properly, everything’s dizzy, and people are pushing and running past you, nearly knocking you off your own two feet. The panic mixes with the nausea and you feel yourself tensing in fear, unsure what to do.
Then, a pair of hands fall on you.
“Come on.”
It’s Eli.
He… He came to help.
Wrapping his arm around your waist once more, he helps lead you out of the house. You let him lead you, trying to resist the urge you have to throw up. Neither of you say anything. Not until you’re out of the house and far away from everyone else.
“Is your mom home?”
You turn to Eli at his question, and he frowns.
“Nevermind. I know she isn’t.”
He’s leading you to a motorcycle, handing you his helmet the second you reach it. “Here,” he says gently, helping you put it on before he sits on the motorbike, pulling you gently behind him. He wraps your arms around his waist, “hold tight, okay?” You just hum, nodding as you let yourself rest against him, pressing your head against his back to help ease the dizziness.
He reaches your house rather quickly. Before you know it the feel of wind in your hair has stopped and he’s helping you off the bike back to your feet. He easily fishes your keys out of your pocket, leading you through your front door and up the stairs. When he turns to your bedroom, you grip onto him tightly.
“Bathroom,” you whisper, shaking your head.
Nodding, Eli listens, and the second he flicks on the light to the bathroom, you’re rushing out of his grip and onto the floor, barely making it to the toilet before you finally throw up. Standing awkwardly at the door, Eli turns his head at the sight, grimacing at the noise as you heave and gasp over the toilet.
When you’re finally done, you pull back, breathless, the sound of the toilet flushing echoing through the silence.
Eli turns to you, a worried crease in his brow. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you croak, “drinking wasn’t as fun as I thought it’d be.”
Eli snorts, moving to crouch in front of you. “It’s more fun when you don’t chug it,” he shrugs.
You nod, then at the silence that echoes, you add after a moment. “Thank you, by the way. For… For helping me out of there.”
Eli nods; “I wouldn’t just leave you there.”
You frown at his words, glancing down at your lap as you fiddle with your hands. You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything.
But Eli… Eli needs to say something.
“How long has your mom been gone?”
“A few months,” you shrug, “she said she’ll be home by the end of the month.”
But as you meet Eli’s gaze, you both know there’s a low chance of that.
“I missed this, you know,” Eli whispers after a pause of silence.
“Me throwing up in a toilet?”
Eli just chuckles, “no, um, us. I missed us.”
You just shake your head; “I doubt that. You had Moon.”
“Yeah, but…” Faltering slightly, Eli turns his head, unable to stop the flush of his cheeks as he swallows thickly. “But I missed you. Being with you. Um, hanging with you. It wasn’t the same with Moon.”
Unable to stop the way your heart flutters at his words, you meet his gaze. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he nods, “and I’m sorry I ever made you think otherwise.”
Stunned at his apology, you stare up at him, seeing the sincerity in his gaze. It’s the first real conversation you feel you’ve been able to have with him–one that didn’t involve yelling or arguing. Just… just talking. Seeing reason. It felt like the Eli you knew and loved was back, sitting across from you.
“I–”
A ding interrupts you. You pause, blinking as you turn to your phone, a series of dings echoing shortly after.
“It’s Demetri,” you explain to Eli, scrolling through the texts popping up on your phone.
Hey, are you okay?
Did you get away before the cops came?
Where are you?
“He’s wondering where I am,” you add, moving to reply back.
Eli scoffing, stops you. “I don’t know why you still hang out with the loser.”
Brows furrowed in confusion, you glance up at Eli. “He’s my friend, Eli. He’s yours too.”
“He’s a loser is what he is,” Eli argues, “especially after what he pulled tonight.”
“Sure, Demetri might have gone too far but you also attacked him at the mall.”
Eli just shakes his head, “he was asking for it. You didn’t see what he wrote about Cobra Kai.”
“He was probably right,” you say gently, biting your lip. “Eli, Cobra Kai is bad… It turned you into a bully.”
Eli laughs, but there’s no humour in it. “A bully? You’re still on about that sh*t?”
“It’s true!” You cry out, unable to stop the way your voice spikes slightly. “I mean, you attacked Demetri and you trashed Miyagi-Do! You stole Mr. Miyagi’s medal of honour.” Shaking your head, you reach out for Eli, gripping onto his sweater. “That’s something a bully would do.”
“And what? What Demetri did tonight wasn’t?”
“It was,” you admit, “but… I can’t blame him–”
“Figures you’d take his side.”
Shocked by his words, you move closer. “No, Eli, it’s just–”
“Hawk.”
Blinking, you jerk your head back. “What?”
“It’s Hawk. My name is Hawk.” Narrowing his eyes at you, Eli rips his arm from you. “I’m not Eli anymore. It’s about time you accepted that.”
Unsure what to say, all that manages to leave your lips is a whispered; “you’ll always be Eli to me.”
“Whatever,” he brushes you off, and your eyes widen as he moves to a stand. You move to follow him, but stand up too quickly, falling against the wall as he turns away, “call Demetri to help you. Or better yet, why don’t you call… what’s his name? Robby? You two seemed to be getting pretty close.”
“What, no? Eli, just wait–”
He pauses, head turning over his shoulder as you grab onto his arm, desperately.
“I don’t like Robby,” you cry out, “I like you.”
“You like Eli.” He argues, and your lips part, but no words leave your lips, giving him his answer.
Pulling your hand off of him, Eli just turns, leaving the bathroom and making his way down the stairs. You’re stunned at the spot for a moment, unable to move, before you’re blinking out of your stupor, rushing to follow after him, trying to salvage what little moment you had there. It felt like you were reaching him, like you were finally getting to him–getting him to see the light.
But when you reach the bottom of the stairs, the front door is slamming shut behind him.
-
This was insane.
All of it.
More than insane–this was just ridiculous.
After Tory publicly threatened Sam over the P.A. system, everyone had gathered in the halls. It wasn’t hard to find where the two of them were, the massive crowd grouping around them was enough of a sign. The second Tory had revealed that Sam had kissed Miguel at the party last night, everything went to shit.
It was bad enough Robby was there to hear it, confirming your suspicions that the two not only liked each other but had started dating–Tory had immediately started attacking Sam after that. When Robby had tried to get in between the two of them and stop it, Miguel had seen it and thought he was attacking Tory, thus moved to attack him in retaliation. From there, it was a chain reaction.
Every single member of Cobra Kai and Miyagi-Do started an all out brawl in the middle of the school hallways.
You tried to stay out of it, dodging hits here and there, while trying to keep an eye on Sam and Tory, or at the very least Miguel and Robby. You knew nothing about Tory, other than just what Sam had told you (and that had been anything but good), but the look in her eyes had been one of undeniable rage and you didn’t want to find out just exactly how mad she was with Sam. And how far she was willing to go.
It was bound to end horribly.
Not to mention, the last time Miguel and Robby had had a fight, there had been rules, a referee, someone watching. There were no rules here. Nobody cared. There wasn’t a single teacher around, and by the way things were escalating, you knew something was going to happen. You just weren’t sure what.
Everything had blown out far of proportion.
Of course, you kept your eye on Eli too.
Even after what had happened last night, even after how he’d left–even if your heart felt as if it was breaking all over again. You may have been sick and a little inebriated, but you still remember his words from the party last night.
Demetri! You got lucky! I’ll see you in school!
And this right here? Was the perfect opportunity.
So, when all of a sudden you can’t see Eli and his familiar red mohawk or Demetri, panic floods your entire being. The fight had moved into the main foyer, and Sam and Tory were currently fighting on the steps with Robby and Miguel on their heels, each trying to get to their respective girlfriend. But you could barely pay attention to them anymore.
You had no doubt in your mind that Eli was with Demetri given that you couldn’t see him either.
Head spinning every which way, you feel your heart pounding madly against your chest, fear coursing through your veins at what could possibly be happening. You remembered the look on Eli's face when he’d tried to hurt Demetri at the mall, the unrecognizable glint he’d regarded Demetri with–he couldn’t see reason anymore. He couldn’t see what he was doing or how wrong it was. And if he couldn’t realize that, whose to say what he’ll do to Demetri given the chance.
Especially after what Demetri had said last night.
“Demetri!” You call out, rushing through the halls. “Eli! Where are you!”
You’re making your way through the school halls, barely paying attention to your surroundings. And then, just as you turn a corner, two boys suddenly block your path. You jerk to a stop, baffled, until your eyes fall on the boy standing in the front. It’s the boy from the mall, one of Eli’s friends, the one who’d attacked you. And by the twisting gleam in his eyes, you have a bad feeling he means to again.
“You again,” you huff, hands falling by your sides as you shake your head. “Look, I’m not trying to fight anyone. I’m just trying to find–”
“Hawk,” he interrupts, smirking widely. “We know.”
“We don’t plan on letting you through that easily.”
Your brows furrow, confusion flooding you. “Eli–Hawk told you to stop me?”
He just scoffs; “no, he doesn’t know.” Then, he takes a threatening step forward, rolling up the sleeves of your sweater. “Which means he can’t stop me either.”
He jumps at you in the next second, fear leaping through your throat as you just barely manage to block his punch. As you stumble forward, the other boy with him jumps in front of you. He manages to hit you across the cheek, your vision blurring for a second as you reel back. You create some distance between you and the two, pressing a hand to your nose, only to pull back and see blood.
When you look back at the two of them, they’re laughing.
Jesus.
Huffing, you square your shoulders, kicking out your left leg, letting your eyes fall shut as you breathe in deeply. You know this, you know how to fight–you hadn’t joined Miyagi-Do and done nothing. You’ve been training. Now was the time to put it into action.
As soon as your eyes open, you leap forward, dodging the coming hit at your head and managing a kick against the second boy's chest. He huffs in response, stumbling back, as you turn your attention back to the main boy who had it out for you. You’re able to evade his first two hits, landing a punch across his face, before he delivers a nasty kick to your leg, causing you to fall back with a groan, feeling the wind get knocked out from beneath you.
The second you blink the boys gaining on you, rolling over just as he moves to hit you. Pressing your hands to the ground, you force yourself up, kicking your leg out at the second boy who just got back up to his feet. You manage to hit him square in the chest this time, knocking him back so he hits the set of lockers behind him, effectively knocking him out.
“Looks like it’s just us,” the boy scoffs, grinning down at you despite his busted lip.
Eyes widening as he races towards you, swinging hit after hit, a cry leaves your lips as you block one of hits wrong, feeling your wrist crack. The boy laughs in response, it echoing across the otherwise silent hall as you glare at him, shaking your head.
You needed to get away from him.
You needed to get to Eli and Demetri.
Inhaling sharply, you turn just as he kicks at you, spinning yourself around, and using your other arm to land a hit against his shoulder. He stumbles back in response and you don’t hesitate, kicking your leg out before yourself, nailing him in the stomach as he coughs in response, doubling over, shuffling on the spot.
Holding his stomach, he glares up at you; “you b*tch.”
You just roll your eyes.
You didn’t care about him.
You need to find them.
You turn, ignoring the slight ache in your wrist and the blood pouring from your nose as you break out into a run once more.
“Demetri! Where are you!”
Pushing open a door, you come to a halt when you finally find Eli and Demetri. It’s just the two of them, and they’re fighting. Eli is the one on offense, Demetri doing his best to block his attacks and your eyes widen as you watch Eli hold nothing back. He swings without hesitation, without withholding any of his own strength. He has every intention of hurting Demetri.
He wants to hurt Demetri.
“Eli!”
His name leaves your lips in a shrill cry, cracking in desperation as he pauses, head turning to look at you. His lips have parted, eyes falling on yours as shock floods his gaze, probably surprised at the state you’re in. You ignore his confused look, staring back at him with a frown and a horrified look, shaking your head.
It’s clear what you’re asking.
Please don’t.
But then Demetri shuffles back, and he just turns away, scoffing as his face hardens. He lets out a cry as he swings his fist back, moving to hit Demetri directly. You freeze, body tensing, fear flooding you, until Demetri dodges the hit, managing to grab Eli. He says something, something you can’t hear from where you’re standing, before he spins the two of them around, kicking his leg out and hitting Eli directly in the head so that he crashes into the trophy case, glass shattering everywhere.
Stepping forward, Demetri glances down at him. “Sorry… Eli.”
And as you watch it happen, Demetri moving to walk away, you can’t help but wonder what happened.
To the three of you.
Why was it like this? Why had it turned out this way?
Why did Eli have to change?
“Y/N,” Demetri calls out for you gently, pulling you from your thoughts as you blink up at him. “Come on. Let’s go. You’re hurt.”
You meet his eyes, lips parting but saying nothing, nodding, before staring past him, at Eli, who has since forced himself up to his knees. His eyes are already on the two of you, his eyes set into a nasty glare as he watches Demetri gently guide you forward, as if hiding you from Eli. Anger courses through his entire body as he watches Demetri lead you away from him, embarrassed at having lost, and frustrated at the whole situation of it.
And when you don’t fight Demetri, letting him lead you away, Eli swears he’s never felt such rage.
#cobra kai#cobra kai imagine#cobra kai x reader#cobra kai x you#cobra kai season five#cobra kai series#eli moskowitz#eli moskowitz x reader#eli moskowitz imagine#hawk x reader#hawk imagine#robby keene#robby keene imagine#robby keene x reader
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