#so he asks the kid his name (which he doesn't do for anyone else) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 2 years

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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

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#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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shadesoflsk · 3 months

Text

YOUR? OUR MARGARET

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x Single mom!reader

SUMMARY: Life slowed down when Leon first saw those tiny rays of sunlight. But he didn't think he would fall in love with the whole sun. Or: Leon falls in love with a single mother.

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of alcohol, government, leon's traumas, love confessions, Leon is a bit insecure and awkward but he's also a sweetheart and has a soft spot for kids, cheesy and corny type of love, this is just fluff believe me!

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I had a nickel for every time I've written about Leon's transition from vendetta to death island I would have two which it isn't a lot but it's funny it happened twice. If you wish to know what song Leon played this is the one I had in mind. As always, I hope you like it. This is my Valentine's Day fic for today!

MY MASTERLIST

Gruesome scenarios and depressive states of mind have tainted Leon's path in life. However, the grizzled and gloomy agent has had a rather rough patch this last year in which he was left alone to die in his own sorrow—Raccoon City, Spain, China and his already-known addiction took a toll on him.

He doesn't have anyone to blame, nor does he want to. Yeah, he could blame the government for stripping him of his innocence and his genuine wish to help people but he felt like he had failed his nation, not the DSO, not the FBI, just him.

Behind closed doors, in the white house and for everyone else he's Agent Leon Kennedy, Mr. Kennedy, and if someone were to ask the president he'd say he's the most trusted weapon the country has.

He has grown accustomed. His shield has hardened to the point he's numb to most things he should find disturbing or annoying yet he couldn’t help but wish someone would see him the way he really is.

A bittersweet feeling grew in Leon’s system. Alcohol no longer brought the same dull sensation that’d put him to sleep even in the loudest and sleazy bar. So, slowly he grew out of his addiction. Not alone, though. Alongside him were a couple of therapists which he reluctantly confided in. Not because he didn’t believe in mental health, but because he thought it wasn’t for him.

Also, his friends made his life a bit better. Spare the man the embarrassment, but friendship does indeed make you see the world more colorfully. It was nice hearing his name slip out of his friends' lips. Leon, Leon! Aww, Leon.

However, life didn’t prepare him for the moment his name was replaced by a:

Dada.

Therapists had told him he should look for a hobby, something that’d fill those moments where boredom or monotony would push him to fall back into his deadly addictions. And he completely understood, he ought to follow the experts’ advice in order to actually improve.

It was rather easier, he was not a complicated man.

Even before the Raccoon City incident, he loved exercising. Whether it was lifting weights, cycling, or plain running he’d always be found doing something. The mere thought of just lying in bed was something he’d never engage in, especially not now that he’s getting better.

So, he combined two things. One he was familiar with and a second one he hasn’t been able to really connect with: nature.

Near his current apartment, there was a small park in which he goes jogging. Usually, his schedule would only allow him to go there in the early hours of the morning where the only people he’d find were retired grandparents who danced to some Spanish music he couldn’t understand.

Peaceful, he liked it.

But when he was getting used to his daily morning jogging, a call from work told him they needed him ASAP. So, his little detoxicating activity would be postponed to the afternoon.

After dealing with the usual stress from work, calls from Hunnigan, and a rather bothersome headache, he got to his apartment and decided to get ready and not skip his so-needed jogging.

The afternoon sky was painted with a hue of blue mixing with the slightest orange color, the gentle breeze hitting Leon’s face as he jogged around the park. His tempo never missed a beat not even after an hour or so between his physical training and some pauses. Sweat fell from his forehead and onto the ground with each step he took, meaning that he was reaching exhaustion.

At last, he found solace under a tree that cast a shadow, perfect for Leon to catch his breath. Closing his eyes, he let his lungs inhale as much air as they could.

His peaceful moment was broken when a tiny voice called out for him. Or rather, mistaken him for someone else.

“Dada!” A little girl came walking to where he was seated, wobbly steps trying to reach him.

“Margaret!” You appeared out of nowhere before the toddler could reach and hug the stranger. The giggling and excited kid seemed to have heard “run faster” by the way she didn’t stop at your call.

A hint of confusion washed over Leon as he watched the scene develop with rather curious eyes. A mop of curly hair running away from your grasp. The white dress turned into a slightly brown color, Leon guessed the child must have been playing in the dirt.

And then a glimpse of a faint smile replaced his previous bewilderment as his eyes fell on you. As you tried catching your daughter, he observed her antics and your patience.

Finally, your hands lifted the little one as her tiny legs kicked in the air, ready to run in the air.

You fixed Margaret’s dress and messy hair while her bright eyes continued being focused on the man sitting on the grass. Her hands doing the typical “grabby” motion to Leon. Sighing in defeat, you spoke to the man.

“Sorry, don’t know what happened.” You sheepishly said as you offered the man an apology for your daughter’s previous mischievous actions. “She usually doesn’t call random people dada I assure you.”

“She gave me quite the scare.” Leon chuckled as he got up from the grass. “My past actions flashed before my eyes.”

“As I said, I’m sorry.” You repeated your words while your daughter tried wriggling her way out of your arms. When she saw that her mother’s grip wasn’t budging, she took matters into her own hands.

She started crying.

You weren’t letting your daughter play with a stranger, that much you knew.

“My name’s Leon, by the way.” Leon said, extending his arm, but he pulled back as soon as he saw that you were too busy handling the tantrum your daughter was having.

You told Leon your name which easily fell from his lips to confirm he heard you well. “Do you normally come here?” You asked.

“Yes, but just in the mornings.” He responded, watching the little one pouting. “Something came out today so duty called. Cops don’t rest.”

“Wait, Are you a cop?” You seemed to relax at the revelation and he couldn’t help but get a Deja Vu from this little interaction. A friend of his asked him the same question, but at least now he wasn’t surrounded by zombies.

“A cop…” A whisper came out from Leon’s lips, a playful yet gentle smile formed on his face. “Kinda.”

“I’ll assume you’re way more important than that.” You adjusted Margaret in your arms when she finally calmed. Although she kept on staring at Leon, her bright eyes focused on him. “Because if you were indeed a cop or a chief you’d be puffing your chest out.”

“Are they always like that?” He acted surprised.

“Here, in New York? I don’t know… you tell me.”

It’s been a while since he last spoke with someone this freely. Surely he has talked with his friends a lot. But they were people he had previously known and shared the same past as him, a connection to the outside world seemed impossible and even greedy in a way.

Soon, both of you found yourselves unable to stop talking, even Margaret chirped from time to time, making her opinion loud and clear. He got to know a bit about you, and you got to know little fragments of his life. The ones who wouldn’t lead him to share more than necessary, obviously.

Despite the rough exterior, his constant frowning stopped as a soft expression replaced it. Margaret's chubby hands absentmindedly held one of Leon’s fingers as he spoke with you, blabbering and being overjoyed by his presence.

However, her cheerful mood slowly turned sour as soon as she got hungry. Glassy eyes and sobs warned you that the conversation would come to an end.

“Yup, I gotta go.” You murmured trying not to bring more stress to your already distressed baby. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise.” Leon kept his hands in his pockets, unable to come up with anything else. He wanted to say that perhaps they could repeat this. But then again, he’s been so deprived of normal social interactions that he no longer knows if that would sound creepy.

“Have a good night.” He decided it would be the wisest thing to do. He watched your soft expression as you took your little girl’s hand and waved goodbye.

Ever since that little interaction, his schedule changed. His morning routine was long forgotten. An excuse was made, something between the lines that his shift changed so he has to work in the mornings.

And he was delighted to spend time with both of you. The highlights of his whole day would be getting to hear about you and Margaret.

Each day that passed meant new memories being made. From the way he got to know Margaret’s favorite ice cream flavor to your childhood dreams. Every detail mattered for him because he could now see how simple life could be.

He took—both of you mostly— on little dates. Let it be to try a new cafeteria near the park, drinking an americano while Margaret drank from her sippy cut which was filled with chocolate milk.

However, there were times in which Margaret would stay with a friend of yours. Allowing you to be alone with Leon. And while he appreciates the joy and happiness your daughter brought, he also loved the moments in which he could focus just on you.

Sadly, years of training didn’t prepare him to man up and make the first move. When he thought he would brush away every insecurity and second guesses, something would come up.

He wanted to grab your hand, the waiter would come at the worst time. He wants to compliment you, he'd almost choke with his own saliva. He wanted to give you a goodbye kiss after driving you home, someone would call him.

It was as if the universe was against him.

Thankfully, you had picked up those hints. And if Leon wasn't the luckiest man out there, you can help him in his predicament.

On a usual afternoon, as Margaret played with the leaves that had fallen from the trees, you shot him a question.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Huh? Yes, it sounds nice.” Leon absentmindedly replied, thinking it would be like the rest of your dates.

“I mean… In my house. I don't think I've invited you yet.”

In the meantime, Margaret had grabbed some leaves which she placed on Leon's hair. The man didn't even react to it, already used to her antics.

“I wouldn't like to intrude.”

“You wouldn't. See it as a friendly meeting.”

Friendly meeting, of course. He couldn’t be so selfish.

“If you insist.” He says as the little one giggles, her smile just showing two teeth. “When would it be?”

“Are you free this 14th?”

He nods, he doesn't even remember if he's in fact free. But he'd make time.

Besides, who works on Valentine’s Day?

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

He wishes he would've realized about the implications of the day sooner.

The other dates have been nothing but platonic. Of course he had been nervous, biting his nails to the point where had to put on clear nail polish.

But this one is for Valentine's Day. Day where people confess their love in dramatic ways. Some lucky people even propose on this date.

Leon has been out of the dating game for years. He believes he'll mess it up somehow, especially as he sees the reflection of himself in the mirror.

Of course, he knows he's getting better. But his appearance tells everyone otherwise. His hair continues being dark, a big contrast from his past self whose blond hair would be the talk of some people.

The palm of his hand brushes over his stubble cheek. The sensation of those tiny hairs is similar to blades. He looks at his watch, there is no time to shave. The last thing he wanted was to be late on his first date.

He sighs and walks toward the table, on top of it are two bouquets. One has multiple red and pink roses, that one is for you. The other one consists of a single white rose, for Margaret. Even if he has forgotten the basics of dating, he wouldn’t go empty-handed to your home.

The drive to your house isn’t an easy one. Not because he lacked driving skills, he is pretty much proud of how well he could drive when he is not facing life-or-death situations.

He takes his car, just for today. He knows he has to be himself and show you his love for bikes. But he would be lying if he wasn’t a tad scared about coming to your house driving his usual motorbike. What would you think? Surely you’d dump him for risking his life or something like that.

But he is so damned anxious. He turns on the radio, trying to muffle his thoughts but the first thing that comes up is a Valentine's Day advertisement. ‘Don’t mess up your date today! Try our newest product and—’ He’s trying, he doesn’t know what the ad is talking about but he needs no product for this date to be a success.

He turns off the stupid machine. After all, today’s music sucks. Nothing personal, he just doesn’t like it. He’d prefer if the radio played real music. Some Deftones and Korn would do.

But right now he’d dance to anything. Valentine’s Day, after all, should be a romantic getaway from the normalcy of life. Even though years had made him a corny individual, if it’s with you, romanticism should never die.

He’s rambling, his head is a mess. He sees himself slow dancing with you, Somethin’ Stupid playing in the background. He foresees a future in which he could paint next to your daughter, suns and trees never looked so pretty as he imagines that scenario.

Dating you would come with the whole pack, he knows well. But even at his age, he still feels like a broken child whenever he sees himself in the mirror. Memories of his innocence being stripped away of him and his present still clinging on to the faint threads of hope.

So that’s why he made the promise of taking this relationship seriously. No matter if you end up being nothing more than friends. People often say that you just know when you meet the one. And he saw the beacons of lights announcing the whole sun when he met you and your little one.

Eventually, he reaches your home. Double-checking the address you had previously sent him over text, he confirms this is the place you live in. A modest house, enough for you and Margaret.

He switches off the engine and takes out the key from the ignition. Placing his hands one last time on the steering wheel, he takes a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. And with a newfound conviction, he grabs the two bouquets and gets out of the car.

When he walks towards the door, he immediately knocks. If he dared to wait just a second just to calm his anxiety, he’d spend at least 5 minutes staring at the wooden material. So, he sacrifices that priceless time in order to face reality.

A ‘coming’ is heard by Leon a few seconds after he knocks. Eventually, the front door opens and you welcome him with Margaret in your arms. “Hey.” You greet him, Margaret doing the same as she waves her hand.

“Hey, you two.” Leon says with a warm smile, trying to hold back the fact that there hasn’t been a better image than this. “I couldn’t come empty-handed to your house so I took the liberty to bring you these.”

Leon then hands you the bouquets he had brought—the bigger one for you, and the smaller one with a single rose for Margaret.

“Are these for me?” A dumb question, of course. But there’s no harm to ask and surely it would get a nice reply from Leon who has been dancing around the idea of flirting with you. Too scared to come off as awkward and silly.

“I don’t see another pretty woman around here.” It slips so smoothly out of his lips. Leon Kennedy, you still got it, he mentally praises himself.

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, satisfied with the answer you received. “Please, come in.”

Leon nods and enters your house. The living room was nicely organized, and the way some toys blended in with the decoration brought a smile to his face. The perfect balance between the sober expected room with the colorful and childish playthings.

You set Margaret on the floor not before giving her the rose Leon gifted her. She absentmindedly walks toward the couch and sits down to inspect what an amazing thing the funny man brought.

“Well, looks like she likes them.” Leon hums as he watches how Margaret starts happily tearing the flower into tiny pieces. Her antics filling Leon’s heart, he could get used to this feeling.

He wants to.

“Yup, definitely.” And your eyes meet Leon’s, his piercing blue eyes are not cold as he often thinks. They remind you of the beach sea, of the gentle waves and the gentleness they carry.

And he sees himself in yours. In your eyes, he isn’t a cold and depressed agent who is fighting off the odds. He admires the man he’s becoming. The man who despite everything he has experienced, wants to do better.

“I haven’t told you yet but…” Leon trails off as he gathers the courage to do this simple yet nerve-wracking action. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

He grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he kisses your knuckles. A gentleman through and through. If he could win your heart, he’d do anything to protect both of you.

Although he was lying, even if he weren’t to win you over, you have already gained a friend who would literally save the world for you to live in with your most beautiful miracle.

“You’re sappy.” You shake your head laughing, but you don’t push Leon away. In a way, your teasing comes off as a thank you.

“And you break my heart.” He chuckles, letting go of your hand which falls to your side.

As it does, your eyes fall on Margaret. While she continues playing with torn pieces of the flower, you see her head swaying slowly from side to side, as if fighting off sleep.

“It’s nap time for little Margaret.” You break the silence as you walk toward Margaret whose tiny fingers still try to tear up the already destroyed rose.

You pick up Margaret and with the way she isn't getting fuzzy, your assumption was correct. She is fighting against Morpheus, sadly losing.

You glance at Leon who is standing in the same place you left him. Admiring the scene of you carrying your daughter.

“Would you like to help me?” You murmur.

Of course he does, he wants nothing more but to embark on this new life. He has seen so much horror and for once, he wants to indulge in this domestic dream of his.

“If you let me.”

Humble, timid, and definitely not showing how enthusiastic he was about helping you.

You nod and guide him upstairs. Margaret’s room was just next to yours, even though you prefer to sleep with her, still too nervous about her getting tangled in her own blankets.

As both of you reach the room, shades of pink and white greet Leon. Some toys are scattered around the floor too. Proof of Margaret’s wholesome behavior.

Margaret shifts in your arms, her previous peaceful demeanor changing given the frustration of not falling asleep yet. She is pretty much easy to handle when nap time comes, but today is one of those days.

“You told me I could help.” Leon's hushed voice reaches you. His eyes express the need to assist you in a task like this.

“Sure…” Your heart flutters as Leon steps up to help you. You indeed asked him if he wanted to come with you. But the fact he had so eagerly accepted the role made you appreciate him even more.

If that was even possible.

As Margaret starts letting out soft cries, you hand her to Leon who is quick to catch her. At first, Margaret is held rather awkwardly which brings a smile to your face before her cries get really serious.

You help Leon by moving his hand. That gains a quiet ‘ok ok’ meaning that he got the hang of it.

He positions Margaret on his chest, her face seeking the crook of his neck as she continues letting out tiny sobs. With his hand supporting his back, he rocks her.

If anyone were to see him, they'd think he's a father holding his daughter. But in his mind, he's holding your world, his world.

Oblivious to it, Leon started humming a song. He doesn’t know where he had heard it before. Maybe it came from his mother, a memory he thought was deeply buried in his mind.

Eventually, your baby falls asleep which definitely boosts Leon’s mood as she grins. He's built for this! He thinks.

He lays Margaret in her crib. The little one breathes slowly as she drifts off to dreamland.

Both of you slowly and quietly walk out of the room making sure not to make any loud noise and wake the sleeping princess.

As you slowly descend from the stairs and are once again in the living room, Leon’s mind is filled with expectations.

What's next?

What is he supposed to do now?

As if on cue, your words break the silence.

“I forgot to order the food.” You sheepishly admit as you nervously laugh. Between cleaning the house before Leon came and taking care of a toddler the fact that a dinner without food wouldn't be a dinner slipped out of your mind.

“I'll do it right now just give me a second to search for this one restau—”

“Hey, it's okay.” Leon reaches for your arm before you can walk toward where the phone is. He takes this opportunity to do all the things he has wanted to do with you. To accomplish each one of those silly yet endearing wishes of his.

“Besides… this is a great excuse for us to bond more.”

He lets go of your arm but instead, his hand takes out his cellphone. Your eyes curiously watch as he types something.

For a moment, Leon doesn't utter a word and you can see how his fingers are slightly shaking.

Leon looks up from the phone and gives you a gentle smile before he sets the phone aside. After a couple of seconds, the slow and wistful chords of a piano announce the beginning of a song.

“May I have this dance?” Leon extends his hand toward you.

You opt to accept his hand. In the back of your mind, you wanted to tease him one more time. Just like you did when he told you happy Valentine’s. But you feel this is way more important than those simple words.

As your hand locks with his, he pulls you closer to his body. His free arm finds its home in your lower back, not too low to keep it PG and not to discomfort you in this intimate dance.

Letting him guide you, you sway from side to side. His past self wouldn't have imagined that he could reach this level of serenity and tranquility. The simple thought of having a family was like a faraway dream.

Your head rests comfortably on Leon's shoulder, the scent of his cologne being your new favorite aroma. The one that brings you memories from the time you met him to all the dates you had that led to this very moment.

The song continues its course, and the outside world is forgotten for a moment. No words are exchanged as both of you drown in the homely feeling of dancing in each other's arms.

After a while, without lifting his head and allowing his lips to ever so slightly graze against your ears, Leon's voice cut through the peaceful melody.

“Let me in.” He whispers, his hands ever so slightly tightening around your middle section. His words brush against your ear like the soft melody that plays in the background.

“What do you mean?”

“Let me in, in your life. I don’t want to ask you to just be your partner.” The weight and truth of his statement turn your head in a messy place. “I want to be part of your life and Margaret’s.”

He wants to stick around, he wants to be greeted by you and Margaret each time he comes back from a mission. He wants to give Margaret the childhood he never had. And, he wants to fulfill every little dream you and he may have.

“I want to wake up next to you each morning. To Margaret telling us she's hungry in her own way.” He's always been a man of few words, but in this moment he could recite the whole bible if he wanted.

“I want to put Margaret to sleep every day just like I did today. And I want to sleep next to you every night, knowing that you're safe.”

“I don't want you to be a memory.” His lips move to the side of your face, daring to kiss your cheeks in a sweet manner. “I want you to be my whole life.”

Smoothly and with ease, his words fall from his lips while his tempo never falters. His thumb now softly rubs your skin, where his hand is located to support your back in the dance.

He'd want to take pride and tell you he's that good with words. However, many times he has rehearsed this speech that if he had stumbled on his words he'd have let the earth swallow him.

And as the song came to an end, so did Leon’s confession.

A few seconds of silence create the worst nightmare in Leon's imagination. He could already hear your words telling him you don't feel the same that you're already in love with someone else or—

Your knuckles caress Leon’s face, feeling the growing stubble on his cheek and jaw. The sensation of being touched like this has been a long-distance memory that he's completely forgotten what being loved felt like.

He now feels both of your hands cupping his face, prompting him to look you in the eyes. His blue eyes lock with yours and admire the softest of expressions drawn on your face.

As he gazes into you, he can only think how in love he is. And what a good life awaits for him.

And what feels like both an eternity and a split second, your lips connect with his in a tender yet meaningful kiss. One that he's been expecting after all this time.

The one is indeed not a myth.

AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: I had so much fun writing this. There's something about found family that makes me all soft and sappy lmao. And sorry if my despiction about cops is wrong... I've never set foot in the US so spare your writer the embarrassment. Anyway, I hope you all have a beautiful day! No matter if you spend it with your lover, friends or alone. (Dividers are from: @/cafekitsune)

💬 SHADESOFLSK: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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jgracie · 1 month

Text

LOVER’S ROCK — PERCY + DAUGHTER OF PERSEPHONE

masterlist | rules

❝ could you write headcanons of percy x daughter of hades (or persephone) reader? ❞ — anon

in which percy dates a daughter of persephone

pairing percy jackson x persephone!reader

warnings none !

on the radio . . . lover's rock (tv girl)

an au where technology doesn't attract monsters! also i like to think that the cabins are magical and can alter depending on how many kids are in there so you have a big bed instead of a bunk

If there’s one thing Percy’s sick and tired of, it’s quests. For some reason, he seemed to be a quest magnet, never failing to end up on one at least once a year

After defeating Gaia, he thought this’d be it. No more quests. He could finally relax and focus on normal teenage boy things, like stressing over exams and skateboarding

He was, of course, wrong. As the summer flowers withered and turned into autumn leaves, Percy was ready to take on his senior year of high school. He packed all his belongings into his suitcase, excited to leave camp and head home to his mother, step-father and half-sister, when a certain someone stopped him

Nico Di Angelo, son of Hades. He didn’t come up to the mortal world often, opting to stay in his father’s domain, so seeing him was a shock. Still, Percy waved at him. Nico was a good guy and his friend, so he was always happy during the rare occasions the boy visited

When Nico explained the situation he was in, Percy couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed. He was so close to experiencing a normal life! Apparently, Hades himself had requested his presence at the Underworld, having an important task for him

Percy didn’t care for Hades, but the look on Nico’s face told him this was something really important. Nico rarely asked for favours unless he seriously needed them, so he decided to do this for him, not Hades or the Fates or anyone else

Holding back a sigh, Percy put his hand on Nico’s shoulder, ready to shadow-travel to the Underworld

“Perseus Jackson!” He heard a voice boom as soon as they arrived. Looking up, Percy found himself face-to-face with the God of the dead himself. Next to him sat his wife, Persephone, who gave Percy a kind smile

“I have a very important job for you, boy,” Hades began, “don’t worry, I won’t be too long. You see, my dear wife here would like you to escort her daughter to the mortal world and train her. I think she’s around your age. Actually, where is she?” Hades said. Percy rolled his eyes. Great, he was stuck doing guard duty for some random immortal

He immediately took back all his complaints the moment he laid eyes on you. From the way you seemed to bring the land of the dead back to life, Percy could tell you were your mother’s daughter. He could also tell that you were a demigod, as your eyes seemed to lack the boredom most immortal beings’ had

Making your way over to him, you held out a hand, which he gladly shook, “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Perseus.” Percy hated it when people called him by his full name, deeming it too formal for him, but he’d let you call him Perseus for as long as you wanted

After that, it was settled. Turns out, you’d actually spent time in the mortal world before, only occasionally visiting your mother whenever she got lonely in the Underworld

However, your mortal parent didn’t want you engaging with your Godly heritage in fear of all the dangers that came with it, hence why you weren’t at Camp Half-Blood, and why Persephone took matters into her own hands

As you told Percy all of this, he couldn’t help but feel uncharacteristically shy. You radiated regality, but not in a scary way like a child of the big three. Your voice held power, but at the same time seemed to seep out of your lips like honey, coating him and rendering him helpless

Despite being in one of the busiest cities in the world, Percy was only able to hear you. When you finally got to your mortal parent’s apartment, he couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, wanting to spend more time with you

Sure, you were going to be going to his house the next day to begin your training, but Percy couldn’t wait a whole 24 hours

After dropping you off, Percy walked home alone, already daydreaming about what the following day held

The next day, you got ready and headed for Percy’s home (please don’t ask me how you know where to go you just Do), your nerves skyrocketing. You see, this was your first time hanging out with a fellow demigod, and so you really didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself

Since your mom did teach you whenever the two of you saw each other, you were pretty good at using your powers. However, you weren’t on the level of a demigod who’d spent their whole life fighting real monsters

“Okay, first, we have to work on your posture,” Percy said. The night before, he’d turned the living room into a training arena of sorts, moving all the couches, tables and any other furniture to the side. It wasn’t ideal, but it’d work until you found some other place to train or went to Camp Half-Blood during the holidays

You held the sword - a gift from Persephone a couple years back, one you had no use for until now - in front of you, unsure what to do, “like this?” Percy smiled fondly at you, remembering what it was like for him as a beginner

Stepping behind you, Percy guided your arms to the right starting position. He was really close to you. From this (minimal) distance, you could hear his breaths and smell the salty scent of the ocean that seemed to linger on him no matter what he did

The two of you stayed in this stance for a little bit, neither one of you wanting to pull away, before you cleared your throat and said, “okay, what now?”

Nothing much happened after that. You sparred a little, not stopping your training until you managed to land a hit on Percy, which you proudly celebrated. The moment he saw the look of triumph on your face, Percy knew he’d made the right decision by loosening up a little. You’d learn some other day

You were meant to go home afterwards, but his mother had insisted you have some refreshments, so you stayed to drink some lemonade and eat some of her freshly baked cookies. After that, Percy wanted to show you his room, so you stayed to see it. Then, he wanted to play Mario Kart, which needed a second player and you happened to be there so…?

Soon enough, it was nighttime and you actually needed to go. Your mortal parent had begrudgingly agreed to this and you really didn’t want them to change their mind

Since it was late, Percy did the chivalrous thing to do - he walked you home

Once you were there, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu. This was the second day in a row he was in this exact situation

This time, though, before you entered the apartment, you gave him a kiss on the cheek

After that day, you quickly became inseparable. You’d go over to each other’s places a lot, but not just to train - a lot of the time, it’d just be to hang out, maybe work on some exam prep together or beat him in Mario Kart (again)

With Percy, the school year flew by, and soon enough you’d graduated. Usually, during the summer, you’d just stay with your mortal parent, since Persephone wasn’t in the Underworld. However, this summer would be your first at Camp Half-Blood

Mrs Jackson dropped the two of you off at camp borders and to say you were excited would be an understatement. Percy spoke very highly of this place, and you couldn’t wait to experience it all

At your arrival, you were greeted by Chiron and Mr D, who gave you a basic summary of how things work at camp, relieved they didn’t have to break the existence of Greek Gods to another young camper. After that, Percy gave you a tour of the place

“This is my cabin, feel free to pass by if you need anything. I’m usually the only one here, but my brother Tyson comes to visit occasionally,” Percy said, presenting the cabin to you. It was gorgeous, just like him

Marvelling at it, you said, “yours is really cool, Perce, is mine that nice too?”

Noticing his silence, you turned to look at Percy, who was deep in thought, “now that you’ve mentioned it, I don’t think I’ve seen yours, not clearly at least. It gets busy really quickly here. I’m sure it’s awesome though, let’s go find out!”

The cabins looked close together from afar, but they were pretty widely spaced, and the walk from Percy’s to yours felt like an eternity. Getting there was all worth it though

As you stared up at your cabin, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through your body. Your whole life, you’d been in a limbo, stuck between two homes but somehow feeling homesick in both. From the moment you saw this cabin, you knew it was where you belonged

Percy walked you up the steps, and you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, “we always end up like this, don’t we, Percy?”

The boy smiled, shyly running his fingers through his hair, “we sure do! Look, I’ll come over later and we can go swimming, the beach here’s beautiful. I’ll introduce you to all my friends, too!”

You unpacked your suitcases and put all your clothes in the closet that was provided. The cabin was clearly uninhabited as dust coated the tops of all the cabinets, but that’s nothing a little spring cleaning wouldn’t fix

Picking out a vinyl record from your large collection, you put one on and began cleaning

It was hard work, but you loved it. Your mother was the Goddess of springtime, after all. The act of decluttering and freshening up a space was named after her domain

Besides, you had a lot of fun discovering the things your mother left behind for you - a basket of fresh fruits, a lovely handwritten letter and a cute dress, which you gladly wore after washing all the grime from cleaning off of yourself

In fact, you had so much fun, you completely forgot about the plans you made with Percy. So, when he showed up at your front door, clad in fish patterned swimming trunks with a surfboard in hand, he caught you off guard for a second

You caught him off guard too. You looked ethereal in that dress. Something about it made your skin glow and your eyes glitter, as if it were woven by Athena herself

“Oh Gods, Percy, I’m so sorry. I got so busy with cleaning this place I completely forgot you said we were gonna go swimming. I’ll go change right now, don’t worry–”

Percy interrupted you, “it’s alright, I get it. I had to deep clean my cabin when I first got here too.”

Seeing as he was already there, you invited Percy in, excited to show him your new home. He wasn’t paying that much attention to your impromptu tour though, too busy admiring you to care about the designs on the wood of your closet

Your tour ended with your bedroom. You took Percy by the hand and led him to your bed, pulling him to you as you landed on the pomegranate patterned bedsheets

In the background, your vinyl continued to play. Of course, the song playing happened to be a love song. As you stared into the cerulean of Percy’s eyes, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming love swell in your chest for him. This boy had changed your life in a way you’d be eternally grateful for

The song progressed, and your faces got closer and closer. As it reached your favourite part, a part Percy knew all too well after the many days you spent making him listen to this song, your lips locked

They were a perfect fit

Dating hcs time hurray!!! (cynthia try not to write 5 pages of backstory challenge)

Percy always gets you fresh fruits. He plants a whole garden of fruits outside his cabin with the help of the Demeter kids and every once in a while he’ll show up with a fresh orange or pear or something

Honestly Percy wasn’t that much of a fruit guy before dating you but now he vows to try every fruit he can get his hands on!!! He rates them all for you too and gives little reviews

Sometimes you’ll wake up in the morning to 10 texts from Percy detailing how much he hated a particular fruit, all sent at 4AM

This resulted in the two of you trying the fruits out together since you had major FOMO, which then resulted in picnics becoming your thing. They’re not super traditional picnics most of the time but you call them that so that’s what they are

Your mom found out you guys were dating a week into your relationship and she couldn’t be happier. She left a cute little fruit basket on Percy’s bed the day she found out <3 he shared them all with you of course

He calls you his blossom!! This one’s kind of random I don’t usually do pet name headcanons but I had to just put that there

One of my personal headcanons for kids of Persephone is you become more closed off during the autumn/winter. You feel really bad whenever it happens but Percy’s always there for you, patiently guiding you through your mixed emotions as your mother transitions from the normal world to the Underworld

I also saw this headcanon that children of Persephone all smell like flowers so I’m including it in this. Percy thinks you smell SO good. At first he thinks its perfume so he asks you what it is and you show him all your perfumes and he’s like “nope it’s none of these,” so you guys are super stumped

Until he passes by the Demeter kids’ garden one day and smells the exact same thing. So he spent the entire day scouring it for the specific flower that smells just like you

They got really mad at him because once he found it he picked a ton of them so he could keep them in his cabin and use them as a reference point for florists in the mortal world for when he inevitably goes to buy more, but he didn’t care

You got mad at him too though, since you cannot justify the picking of flowers

“Look, Perce, this is really cute, but you shouldn’t have picked the flowers like that!” You said as you moved the flowers Percy stole from the gardens to pots, trying to salvage them as much as you possibly could

The boy in question sat on your bed, his head hung in shame. Not picking plants is the number one rule of dating a Persephone kid, and he forgot

A guilt washed over you as you took him in. He didn’t know any better, he was just excited because he finally found what was apparently ‘your scent’

After the flowers were all safely in their pots, you sat next to him, tenderly placing your hand on his face and turning it to look at yours, “it’s okay. The flowers are alive and healthy. I’ll help you grow more of them, ‘kay?” You stroked his cheek with your thumb before planting a kiss on his lips

With a goofy smile now plastered on his face, Percy mumbled, “okay, blossom.”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson headcannons #percy jackson x persephone reader #percy jackson x daughter of persephone #persephone pjo #children of persephone #daughter of persephone #cynwrites

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literaila · 4 months

Text

sick

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru does not get the 'flu' that you have, or why you can't take megumi to the bookstore

warnings: symptoms of the flu, satoru is a bastard, cute kids

last part | next part

year two.

you: can you take megumi to the bookstore? i can't make it

"megumi wants me to ask you what you mean by 'i can't make it.'"

your phone rings as soon as the message is sent, making you groan and roll over in bed. your palms are sweaty, and your body feels a bit like you got eaten alive.

you probably shouldn't have answered, but honestly, how can you be expected to make smart decisions in this state?

you sigh into the phone. "it means that i can't make it, satoru."

usually, his voice would make you smile but right now it just makes you want to die. and sleep for a couple... billion years, at least.

"megumi wants me to ask what you mean by that?" satoru says again like you can't tell he's grinning.

"just let me talk to him," you sigh, turning over on your side, which does nothing to ease the ache in your abdomen, by the way. you feel briefly nauseous like you might need the bowl you dragged under the covers, but it eases. you swallow bile.

"what's wrong?" satoru asks, still teasing, and doesn't put megumi on the phone because he has never, not once in his life done anything without an argument.

really, why do you put up with him?

"nothing."

"well you just forgot that both of the kids are in school right now, like they are every day, so..."

you close your eyes, pulling the covers up even higher. "oh. yeah."

"did you get hurt, or something?" satoru asks, no concern evident in his voice, "going on another mission?"

"no."

satoru is silent, waiting. and you really truly do hate him. anyone else would just do you this favor.

but not your best friend, no, he does nothing you ask.

"i'm sick," you tell him, after a whole minute of silence.

you can almost hear it as his brows furrow. "what?"

"i have the flu or something," you cough into the receiver, hoping that it hurts his ear.

"how?"

"ugh," you groan, trying to rub the ache out of your jaw. "not all of us are immune to getting sick, you freak. will you take megumi to the bookstore for me? please?"

"i don't think he wants to go with me."

"satoru," you whine.

"...and also i'm not allowed to enter the premises anymore."

you sniff, wishing that you had more tissues, "what? since when?"

"a couple weeks ago," he answers, nonchalantly. you can hear him moving around, probably wreaking havoc on the house you'll have to deep clean in a couple of days.

not to mention your room. seriously, getting sick is the worst.

"why?"

"nuh uh," he says to you, very seriously. "that's between me and the children. they swore me to secrecy, and you're the one that's always going on and on about trust and how easily it's broken..."

"you mean that you swore them to secrecy."

"i bribed them," satoru agrees as if it's not an insane thing to say about your seven and eight-year-olds.

"with what?!"

"tsumiki took the offer of picking whatever takeout she wanted, and i think megumi was just glad i couldn't bring him anymore, the brat."

you can hear his eyes roll, and the mention of the little boy's name reminds you of why you're having this discussion in the first place.

"satoru... i really can't take him and i promised we'd go today," you groan into your pillow, voice feeling very sore. you shouldn't be talking to this insane man right now, you should be asleep.

he pauses. "i can wear a disguise, i guess?"

you groan again, hopefully, louder. "no, you're right about him not wanting to go with you."

"rude."

"i guess i'll just..." you attempt to sit up for the third time, feeling a bit dizzy as you do so. "i'll take some medicine and see if i feel better by the time they get out of school."

you're already mentally checking your medicine cabinet, not even sure if you have anything to help this ease by later in the afternoon. just some pain relief would be nice, but if you're contagious...

"what? no."

"well, you can't take him," you answer, still annoyed.

"he doesn't need to go..."

you hope that satoru can feel your scowl. "i promised."

"he's a reasonable kid..." satoru says, clearly not remembering the brooding that happened the last time megumi had to re-read one of his books. "i think."

you're silent.

"look, i'll talk to him, okay?" he settles on, finally. "and i'll give him a couple hundred yen, it'll be fine.

your mouth opens, and you cough, before, "no, satoru--"

"get some rest," he exclaims, unpleasantly.

"have him call me when you pick them up, satoru--"

"don't die of the flu or anything."

and then he's gone, and now you've got a headache, too.

you think you might be dreaming when you open your front door.

the knocking had woken you up--you think--but with how long it took to walk from your room, into the hallway, and then the door, honestly, you might've fainted. or decided to take another nap against the wall.

because once you open it, it feels like you've done this before.

once again, three people are standing in front of you, two of them already arguing before you even take a step back to swing the door all the way open.

the light hurts your head as you squint at the three of them.

"it was my idea--" megumi is saying to satoru, grumpy, you know, from all day at school, and because he's talking to satoru.

"you're not taking all of the credit," satoru says back, "i bought everything."

"'cause you're rich."

"wow, so you're objectifying me?"

"yes," megumi answers immediately, even though you doubt that he even knows what objectifying means (actually, you're pretty certain satoru doesn't even know). you cough, and it feels like something has died inside of you.

the three of them turn towards you, tsumiki with a pleading look.

"it was my idea, okay?" megumi tells you before anyone else can say anything, and then he pulls tsumiki along with him as they move past you, through the door, into your apartment.

yes, it's clear that satoru has raised them.

"i said we should bring soup," tsumiki looks up at you, waiting for the praise she knows you'll give her.

"our idea," megumi amends, easily.

then they're out of your reach, going to sit on the very same couch they'd slept on a year ago, probably trying to escape satoru.

who you turn to, with a frown. his hair is so white it hurts to look at.

he points into your apartment, "those are devil spawn."

you cough. "don't call them that."

he raises a brow at you. probably at how soft your voice is, or the fact that you haven't hit him in the thirty seconds he's been standing there.

it's a new record.

"why are you here?" you rasp out, wiping some snot from your nose.

"no 'hello?'"

"hello, satoru," your voice is retched, "why are you here?"

"you look kinda rough, kid,"

you sniff, leaning against the doorjam. you could fall asleep here in an instant. "i'm sick, you jerk."

"so this is sickness..." satoru says, intrigued, pretending to inspect you closely like you're some lab experiment.

"i distinctly remember a cold that had you shaking on the floor of your dorm, begging shoko to heal you."

satoru points a finger at you. "that was an uncurable illness."

"and yet we're still stuck with you."

satoru just smirks, pretending to be an angel he is not.

you cough again and then sigh. it's cold with the door open. "are you just here to annoy me?"

"no," satoru shakes his head, giving you a ridiculous look, "well, i was telling megumi that you couldn't take him to the bookstore, cause of your disease or whatever," he ignores your weak protest, "and then i suggested that maybe we could see how you were feeling, bring you a little gift basket--"

"no, he didn't!" megumi calls.

satoru frowns. "devil. spawn."

you snort, somehow amused at all of them, finally moving aside so he can walk through the door.

satoru passes, suddenly brighter, but not before leaving an obnoxious kiss on your cheek--a resounding smack following. to which, you promptly wipe off.

he frowns, and you push him so you can close the door. and then you trail into the kitchen, sitting down immediately before you fall.

it's so embarrassing that just standing for too long has made you this lightheaded.

satoru sets a bag on your kitchen counter and begins to unpack it.

you try to see over his hands. "what did you bring me?"

"you guys are so unappreciative," satoru tells you, pouting, "you only want me for my goods."

"and the view," you answer, easily. "what'd you get?"

megumi and tsumiki comes over to you, both of them giving you a short (megumi) and tight (tsumiki) hug. you've trained them well.

"soup!" tsumiki tells you, grabbing the container from satoru's hands, despite his look. and then she walks over to your stove, looking in the cupboards for a pot to heat it in.

because she's used to taking care of herself. they both are.

"satoru," you nod to her, and he frowns, but reluctantly takes over, pushing tsumiki away from the stove. you're both familiar with this behavior from her.

most days when you make dinner, tsumiki is trying to sneak into the kitchen, refusing to let you take care of it.

she pouts a little now, but lets satoru handle the soup.

"gojo got you all of these," megumi tells you, bringing your eyes away from the other man, pushing a stack of pill bottles and medicine containers your way. "i don't think he knows what any of them are."

"hey! that's a great selection," satoru pours the soup into a pot and sets it on the stove, returning to the counter with the three of you.

"this is a muscle relaxant," you tell him, frowning as you look at the packages--most of which are not for the flu. this is why he's not allowed to go to the store without you.

"well, your muscles need to relax, don't they?" satoru asks, dryly. "wish we could find some of those for your brain..." he mutters, afterward, and you throw the packet right at his face.

"i found those little sour things you like," megumi continues, smirking just a moment at satoru. "they didn't have a big bag."

"thanks, megs."

"there's tissues, and chapstick if your lips get dry. and i picked out the cough drops because gojo wanted to get chocolate flavored or something--"

"strawberry!"

megumi rolls his eyes.

tsumiki steps to your side again. "and we got flowers, but those are still in the car."

"no, they're not," satoru suddenly has a bouquet of roses in his hands, almost covering his entire face. "they're right here."

"when did you do that?"

"when you guys were ridiculing my excellent taste," he pouts, white hair falling over his glasses.

you laugh.

"where's your vase?" he asks, going through every cupboard before finally listening to your answer. he settles on the other end of your kitchen, cutting and arranging the bouquet.

tsumiki taps you. "are you feeling bad?"

"just a little out of it, sweetie, don't worry."

"did we get everything you need?" megumi chimes in, giving you a brief moment of eye contact before looking away.

"yes. you guys did great, thank you both. you're very sweet."

satoru ahems loudly. "and what about me?"

"you could've done better."

the kids both laugh and you push them into the living room, telling them to go sit down for a bit--knowing that satoru dragged them from school to the store to here without a break--and that you'll find a snack for them.

and then you sigh, a bit nauseous from sitting up for so long.

"do you need to lay down?" satoru peers at you, setting the bouquet on your table. "you look green."

"thanks. how'd you learn to do that?" you gesture to the flowers which are arranged beautifully. honestly, you're surprised he didn't leave them on the counter for you to deal with.

"i am a gentleman."

"ha. no, seriously."

"...i may, or may not have looked up what to bring someone who has the flu--and the flowers were extra, but!" he pauses as you laugh at him, resting your head against the cool counter. "i only had to do that because i don't get affected by stupid things like the flu or whatever you have."

"of course," you whisper, closing your eyes.

and then there's a hand on your forehead. "you're really warm."

you press your head into his hand, which is also pleasantly cold. "yeah."

"did you sleep all day?"

you nod.

"really? that's so lazy."

you push him away, and he laughs, just loud enough for you to hear it. you open your eyes again when you hear him move away, watching him stir the soup on the stove.

"you probably shouldn't have brought them here," you tell him, gesturing to the living room. "i don't want to get them sick."

"they missed you," satoru shrugs. "you wouldn't want them to be sick alone."

"yeah, but..."

"i'm the worrier today," he interrupts, wrapping his hand around your wrist so he can pull you. "go lay down on the couch with them and i'll get your soup ready."

"you'll burn it, you mean?"

"as a punishment for all of the cruel things you say to me," and satoru smiles as he nudges the top of your head with his nose.

his eyes are almost stern (almost, but not quite) as he watches you lay down on the couch, your hands gestured in defeat, and nods when you're settled in.

when he walks away, you call, "bring us some water!"

there's no response, but you know he'll do it.

tsumiki just slightly nudges you with her hand and you smile, opening your arms for her to cuddle under.

megumi doesn't do the same, but you don't fail to notice when he scooches just a little bit closer to you both, his thigh touching yours.

your head still hurts and even the smell of the soup is making you a bit sick, but you'll deal with it as long as they're all here.

you're arguing with satoru about dinner, several days later, when tsumiki and megumi sneeze at exactly the same time.

it took a couple of days for you to recover, but now you're better than ever, happily fighting with satoru over the stupidest things and watching over both of the children for any defects that happened while you were out of sorts.

they're mostly okay.

but now the both of you look over to them, your eyes wide, satoru almost wincing.

and then you look back to him, already scowling.

"hey, it was just a sneeze," he tells you, quickly, already knowing what you're about to say.

"i told you--"

and then he sneezes, taking a step away from you.

you groan, giving up on dinner. it looks like the next few days are going to be spent coddling all of your children.

next part

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ofloveandstardust · 2 months

Text

A/N: I saw that Cain and Abel aren't like present in the show and I know they're technically Adam and Eve's kids, but let me have this please— I just wanna gush about this since it's been invading my mind.

cw: fem!reader (no pronouns, but reader is called wife/mama/mommy/mother)

Imagine: Being Adam's wife and having two sons with him.

I can definitely see him being excited over having sons. Like, hell yeah! But but but also— I have this feeling in my gut that he'd be okay with being a girl dad, sooo after having your sons he's just like "Wifey, Sugartits, Babycakes—" Any nickname under the sun until you finally ask him what he wants and he just says he wants a daughter.

You can't tell me he didn't name Abel— and 💀 It's even funnier since Abel does have a little more resemblance of his father than Cain does. Cain was named by you and looks more like you. However, you can say his attitude is similar to Adam's. I can see them both having Adam's eyes when thinking up of how they'd look, but I'm leaving things up in the air. Just for this, because I think it'd be neat, the boys are twins. Cain is the older twin while Abel is the younger one.

Cain is kind of a menace...but still a good kid. He always pulls that "Because I'm the oldest" card with Abel and if he ever whacked his brother and he started crying, Cain immediately does that thing where the sibling just panics and stops them from crying or else he's getting in trouble with mama and papa. He teases his younger brother, but will get upset if anyone tries to bully Abel. Oh, but the biggest menace he is towards? Adam. Cain doesn't hate his dad at all. No, he just prefers you more and lowkey is a mama's boy. Adam can have Mr. Perfect (Abel), but he at least has mama.

Then Adam just straight up has beef with his own son 💀 Because Cain takes up your time and he swears the little shit is taunting him when you're not looking. Cain comes up when you and Adam are kissing or anything like that, holding his hands up like, "I want Mama's kisses too... 🥺" You can't resist because that's your baby and he's so adorable. There's this stare down between Adam and Cain...meanwhile Abel, being the good bean that he is, waddles towards you all and goes, "Mama! Papa! Look what I drew! :D" and it's just a sweet little drawing of him, his brother, you and Adam.

Speaking of Abel, he's a good boi. Cain calls him Mr. Perfect sometimes because Abel has some natural talent. He's especially good with music, much to Adam's delight. Still, he looks up to his brother and despite Cain's jealousy, they do get along nicely. They have this little game where they're building their own city and decide over several elements of it. Abel somehow always brings sheep into the mix, but his brother isn't complaining.

Abel doesn't play favorites and says he loves you and Adam equally. He always wants to make sure the two of you are present at the same time when showing his accomplishments or what he's found. Speaking of which, he has special interests that last for a while until he moves on to another one or some just last a very long time. An example would be sheep, as mentioned before. He even has a lamb plushie (I can see him watching Lamb Chop's Play Along and loving the show). Cain knows how precious this little lamb is to Abel and will raise chaos if it ever gets lost or stolen (he calls the plush "The Chosen").

Here's a funny little thing: the boys not recognizing Adam in the mask he wears. From the day they were born, they always saw their father without his mask and have grown used to seeing his actual face. One day, they ask you where he was and you tell them it's work related but he'll be back to teach them some new songs. Just imagine Adam coming back, calling out that he's home, which cause the boys to rush up to him. Then they just stop because... "Mama, who's this stranger in our house!?" Abel literally starts crying— saying this isn't papa. Meanwhile Cain's mind immediately says violence is the answer (thanks, Adam). You have to calm both boys down and explain to them about the mask.

Flight lessons are stressful. It all started when Cain began jumping off of the furniture and escalated to him jumping off the bunk bed (because it'd be adorable for them to have bunk beds). So, it seems like it was time to show the boys how to use their wings. It's harder than it looks. Abel isn't okay with jumping off from anywhere unless Cain is going to jump with him. Fine with his brother because he enjoys doing this. Eventually, they're able to fly and it's a joy! They can fly around Heaven with you and Adam and it's absolutely adorable.

Cain and Abel have different ways to refer to you and Adam. Cain calls Adam 'dad' or 'papa' but does call him 'father' when he's upset or serious. Meanwhile, he calls you 'mama', 'mommy', or 'mom' (mom is more frequent when around others or strangers) and it's rare when he calls you mother. Abel just calls you two mama and papa. He'll only use mother and father if he's around people he doesn't know or meeting for the first time.

I have more thoughts about these little beans such as how they are around Lute (#1 and only Babysitter), Emily (Abel affectionately calls her Auntie Em), Sera and possibly Lucifer and Charlie (because you can't tell me Adam would not brag about having kids 💀). Like, I can see Cain being brutally honest when he first sees Lucifer because he's that type of kid. Will 100% make a comment about the man's height. There's also the fact that both boys are into music like their father. Abel once asked, "So if that's Queen, then who's the King?" when Adam tells them about Queen. Also, I can very much see Cain getting into gardening. If you want more of these then let me know!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel fluff #adam x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel

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joeys-babe · 5 months

Text

Joey B blurbs: Isn’t She Lovely

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Summary: Joe brings the twins with him to one of his press conferences, but all Miles seems to want is ‘Momma’.

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine Universe: Into The Mystic

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*No particular date for this fic!*

(Joe’s pov)

“Joe, my mom’s calling. Can you take the boys with you?” - you

“To my conference??” - Joe

y/n, Tyson, and Miles came over to Paycor today to watch us practice.

Afterward, I and a couple of the other guys stayed back to play football with the kids. The guys made a few jokes after Tyson successfully threw a spiral at two years old. I thought it was accidental, but Ja’marr and Tee swore it was the ‘Burrow gene’.

Now that almost everyone had left the stadium, y/n and the twins were allowed to come into the locker room with me.

y/n got on to me about how messy my locker was. I told her it was fine, but Tee made a ‘Happy wife, happy life’ joke saying I should clean it.

In the end, I knew I would end up doing it anyway to please her because that woman had me wrapped around her finger. She has since high school.

Currently, I was just about to step into the media room when y/n came rushing up to me, the twins behind her, saying that her mom sent a text saying call me ASAP.

Zac had just walked out from his conference, and he heard our conversation.

“You’re allowed to take ‘em in if you want to. I know you would rather be with them than have someone else watch them.” - Zac

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.” - Joe

“No problem, kid.” - Zac walked off

y/n stood in front of me, her phone still ringing, and I made a split-second decision.

“Go ahead, I’ll take ‘em, baby.” - Joe

“Thank you, you're the best, Joe.” - you

She looked around to see if anyone was present, and when there wasn't anyone, she pressed a quick peck to my lips.

I watched her speedwalk down the hall toward the women's bathroom to have some privacy, and I bent down to the twin's level.

“You guys have to go in there with me for my press conference, okay? You know those videos you watch of me with Mommy where the people ask me questions?” - Joe

“Yeh!” - Tyson

“You guys are gonna sit on my lap for one, okay? If you wanna leave at any point tell me.” - Joe

“Ok, Dada.” - Tyson

“What about you Miles? Sound good?” - Joe

“Sound great, Daddy.” - Miles

I stood up and picked them both up, one in each arm, and walked into the media room.

It was kinda funny watching the reporter’s faces turn to shock. They knew I was a reserved, closed-off person, and that I hated the media, so for me to bring my kids in here was surprising to them.

Pulling my chair out, I sat down and situated the boys on my lap. One sat on each leg.

Tyson laid his head on my shoulder while Miles was looking around, trying to figure everything out.

“How’s it goin’.” - Joe

Everything was silent.

“What’s this?” - Reporter 1

“A one-time thing.” - Joe chuckled

Everyone in the room laughed before a reporter spoke up.

“Who are these cuties?” - Reporter 2

“They're my two-year-old twins. Wanna say your names?” - Joe

I almost laughed as Miles immediately lept forward and grabbed the mic.

“I’m Miles.” - Miles

His voice was super loud in the speakers from how close he was to the mic, and I couldn't help but bust out laughing.

Eventually, I pulled Miles back into my lap and nudged Tyson. He silently shook his head.

“This is Tyson. He's my little mini-me and doesn't like the media like his daddy.” - Joe

The room laughed again before I continued talking.

“You guys can interact with the boys for a little bit but I'm here to talk football.” - Joe

For the first time since I walked in, the room fell silent, till Miles spoke up.

“Momma!” - Miles

“Someone wants his momma.” - Reporter 3 laughed

“Yeah. She’s on the phone, which is why I had to bring ‘em in here.” - Joe

“Momma?” - Miles looked up at Joe

“She’s on the phone, buddy. If you guys can't already tell, he's a momma’s boy. He’s more like her than me personality-wise.” - Joe

“So he’s social?” - Reporter 2 jokes

I laughed as I nodded my head, finding his dig at me to be funny.

“Momma!” - Miles whined

“Guys, excuse me, but I'm probably gonna have to call my wife.” - Joe

This was the most unorganized thing I've ever done.

Pulling my phone out to call y/n, she answered pretty fast.

“Hello? Are you still in your conference?” - you

“Yes, but can you come get Miles? He wants you like bad.” - Joe

“Oh yeah, of course. I’ll be right there.” - you

“Okay, good. See you in a sec.” - Joe

“I won't say I love you, so you don't have to say it back. I know you don't want that being picked up on the mic.” - you laughed

“I love you too, bye.” - Joe smiled

“What?!” - you

I hung up just after that, not caring that I said it right into the mic.

“She’s coming to get this one.” - Joe

I nodded at Miles, then realized he was waving directly at a female reporter.

Just a few seconds went by before the media room door opened and y/n walked in.

She looked at me, unsure of what to do, so I flicked my head telling her to come in my direction.

y/n walked up the platform steps and took Miles from my lap, who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Do you wanna go with Momma too?” - Joe

Tyson shook his head no and sat up, now facing the room of seated reporters.

I leaned the mic away from my mouth and whispered to y/n.

“Thanks, Mama. You look beautiful by the way. I'll see you after this is over.” - Joe grinned

She grinned at me, her cheeks flushing as she situated Miles on her hip before waking away.

When I faced the reporters and fixed the mic back to point toward my face, they all had smiles on their faces.

“Did… did you guys hear that?” - Joe

All at once they all said yes, yeah, mhm, yup.

My cheeks turned red from embarrassment, this was an absolute trainwreck.

“So… Tyson, what can you tell us about your daddy? What does he do at home?” - Reporter 3

“Uhm…” - Tyson sighed

All of the reporters laughed, finding it so funny that Tyson just pulled something so characteristically me.

“He is just like you!” - Reporter 1

“What do I do at home, Ty?” - Joe

“Kiss Mommy.” - Tyson giggled

I immediately groaned and covered my face with my hand. Tyson kept on laughing, and so were the reporters.

“I’m getting exposed right now.” - Joe

“We, Uhm, pway foot…ball.” - Tyson

“We do.” - Joe nodded

“That’s it.” - Tyson blabbered

The room laughed once again till a reporter spoke up.

“So all he does is kiss your mom and play football?” - Reporter 3

“Mhm!” - Tyson

“Pretty accurate, not gonna lie.” - Joe

“Joe, you're pretty smitten with your wife, yeah?” - Reporter 5

“Have been since high school. She’s the best though. The best mom, wife, best friend… and so much more. She keeps me grounded. I know I usually keep my personal life separate from football, but I love her more than anything.” - Joe

“More than football?” - Reporter 2

“More than anything.” - Joe reiterated

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Authors note: though Joe would never do this, let's just imagine he would.

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals

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izvmimi · 7 months

Text

cw: selfship content. married with named children. fluff.

Izuku has been pacing around the kitchen for the past five minutes, and you, devilish as you are, are pretending not to notice, content with your late night snack of hot chocolate and lightly buttered bread.

The kids are all asleep, or at the very least turned in for the night, and things have been overall peaceful in the Midoriya household for the past few days, so whatever has your husband in distress is unlikely to be that bad. Additionally, he has an expression he makes when the situation is more embarrassing than dire, and that's written all over his face at the moment.

You bite into a particularly crunchy part of the bread and the sound appears to echo - Izuku looks at you and you return his gaze with your mouth full, blinking innocently, then burst out laughing when he frowns.

"Fine, I'll bite. What's wrong, baby?" you ask.

Izuku stops pacing then stands still facing you, one arm crossed over his chest and his other hand balled into a fist under his chin.

"Did you know Izumi had a crush on..." his voice was already hushed, but now it falls into a barely audible whisper, "... Ami?"

You blink. That's all? you wonder.

"Well, yeah..." you reply. "He's uh... been like that since he was 8?"

"What?!"

Izuku looks betrayed for a moment, then moves over to you quickly, pulling out a chair to plop down on.

"Okay, but his sketchbook is literally filled with portraits of just her!"

You drink the last of your hot cocoa, then smile at him, resting your hand on his wrist posed on the table.

"Sounds like his dad."

Izuku turns pink at the ears, but then he shakes his head, trying to focus.

"It's not the same!"

You sigh. "Are they tasteful at least? They seemed fine when I saw them."

Izuku's mouth opens and closes quickly. "W-What do you mean tasteful?"

"I mean he is 15."

"___! They're okay, he's not a pervert!"

You tilt your head to the side. "Exactly, so what's the problem?"

Izuku looks at you with incredulity, shocked by your unbothered manner. "You know, perhaps the 10 year age difference??" Izuku starts. "What if he gets his heart broken? It's not like it can happen!"

You take another long look at him, then laugh again.

"Don't burst a blood vessel, it's just puppy love. He'll get over it."

"I didn't get over my first crush!"

"... Honey, how old do you think I am?" you ask. He sighs then sidesteps your statement, knowing he sounds ridiculous, then presses his head against the table. You push your plate and mug aside now, then take his fingers in yours, and he turns his head to the side to look up at you.

"You know, it's not weird for your teenage son to have a crush on a pretty girl, especially when she was his babysitter most of his life. It's harmless."

Izuku frowns.

"It's not weird I promise. Plus, it won't last." With that last part you lean just a bit closer to whisper, "I heard him on the phone with someone else, he has a crush on another person in his class right now, which I also know because he actually starts caring if I iron his shirts for school."

Izuku seems briefly relieved, then again bothered by this additional info.

"Why doesn't he tell me anything?" he asks.

"Teenagers don't tell anyone anything, don't worry about it." You say, squeezing his fingers. He gives you a half-smile, then you decide to change the subject.

"By the way, Atsuna needs to get stuff for cheerleading, so you can you take her tomorrow? I have some errands I need to run."

"Cheerleading? When did she start cheerleading?"

Izuku looks genuinely dumbfounded, following you as you get up to put your dish away.

"Two weeks ago." You snap your fingers. "I need you to keep up."

He pouts, and you actually feel a little bad.

"I'm kidding," you insist, but the damage is already done. You lead him back to a seat in the kitchen, and he frowns again, tapping his foot anxiously as he sits.

"I'm a shit father," he mumbles, and your heart aches for just a moment. You shake your head then cup his face in your hands. Izuku looks at you and you soften then kiss him.

"No way. You're just doing a ton at once right now. Let me take care of things for now, and then we'll catch up this weekend, okay?"

His hands circle around your wrists, and he's not completely convinced but he nods.

"You do such a great job, I wanna pull my weight," he murmurs and kisses you again. You let his kisses warm you more than the cocoa and press your forehead against his.

"You pull yours too, baby. We can't give 100% to everything all the time so I'll cover you and you cover me, okay?"

He nods.

"Thank you," he adds. You move out of your seat into his lap, and caress the side of his chin, feeling the roughness of his unshaven face, tired but still handsome.

"I'm taking more days off," he promises.

"You don't have to," you insist.

"I don't have to, but I want to."

You laugh but it's just a breath through your nose, and press yourself closer to him so that your face buries into his chest.

"#1 Pro Hero wants more days off so he can give his son the Talk? That will go over well with the Hero Commission."

Your sarcasm hits a little too close to home but he gently grips your fingers again and pulls them to his mouth, kissing the finger tips.

"Izuku, your husband and the father of your kids, wants to spend more time with the beautiful woman he married and the children he helped create," he states. You look into his eyes and he looks determined to make a change and you smile, accepting his resolve.

"Thank you."

---

Your phone rings in the late evening on Sunday, and you can't help but be amused as you pick up. The second you say hello, you can already hear screaming on the other end of the line.

"Is there a reason Deku is suddenly off the patrol schedule for an entire month?!"

You stifle a laugh.

"Why don't you ask him, Kacchan?" Calling his name like your husband does only serves to aggravate him more.

"Very funny. Tell him to pick up the fucking phone."

You glance over at your husband who is busy helping your youngest daughter, Ai, braid her hair down for bed in the living room. Ai holds a mirror and tells him where to part her curls, and Izuku's tongue sticks out as he tries the style on the video on the TV screen. Despite his slight confusion, he looks happy as Ai observes his work and gives him plentiful encouragement.

"When he's no longer busy. Bye! Hug the wife and kids for me!" you say cheerfully as you hang up.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #cw kids #cw families #mimidoriya #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes

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waitineedaname · 1 year

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okay I've finished making my big spreadsheet of how mp100 characters refer to each other! some thoughts on this under the cut because it got long

the Kageyama brothers are very polite in how they refer to people. their parents must have really instilled etiquette into them bc no one else is as consistent about using polite honorifics/titles as they are. the only people Mob doesn't give an honorific/title are his brother and Dimple, and the only people Ritsu doesn't give an honorific are Dimple and Shou, who he just calls "Suzuki"

Reigen, on the other hand, is pretty inconsistent and casual with his use of honorifics. he says "Mob-kun" a couple times and "Ritsu-kun" once, but usually they're just Mob and Ritsu (or "Mob's brother" lmao). the only honorific he consistently uses is "Tome-chan"

it's infrequent, but both Reigen and Dimple refer to Mob as "my boy" at some point :') he's their boy!

Ritsu doesn't refer to the Awakening Lab kids at all until he asks their names after being kidnapped lmao the only exception is when he calls out to the older Shiratori brother after the younger one is taken away and he calls him "Shiratori-kun." considering the fact that after asking their names, he refers to both of them as Daichi-kun and Kaito-kun, I think there was absolutely a moment when everyone was freaking out about the Shiratori brothers where he was like "ohhhhh that's his name"

also he switches from "Onigawara-san" to "Onigawara-senpai" when he realizes he's friends with his brother lmao fakeass

even though Mob starts calling Teru "Hanazawa-kun" as soon as they exchange names, Teru doesn't give him the honorific until they decide to raid Claw together. I guess that's the point when he decides they're friendly enough for it? he calls Ritsu "brother-kun" as soon as he realizes they're related and never refers to him by his actual name

everyone calls Teru some variation on his nickname EXCEPT Mob and Dimple. Dimple actually only calls him "brat" and "that guy" for a while until he managed to track him down again during the alleyway incident, which I realized is because he was exorcised before learning Teru's name lskdjflkdsf from the Seventh Division arc onwards, he just calls him "Hanazawa"

I love that Dimple tries to refer to the brothers with cutesy nicknames and both of them are like "if you do that again I'm killing you all the way dead" and he's like "understood." and then refers to them by given name from then on lmao

Teru refers to Dimple as "Dimple-kun" and Tome calls him "Dimple-chan," both of which are SO funny to me because he's way older than them. rude as hell, this evil spirit deserves no respect

Shou doesn't use honorifics or titles for ANYONE. Ritsu is just Ritsu, the Ultimate 5 are all their last names, his dad is just Pops. he also exclusively refers to Mob as "Ritsu's brother" dkfjldskfj

Serizawa alternates between "Shigeo-kun" and "Kageyama-kun" with no real rhyme or reason to it. just seems to depend on his mood I guess

#mp100 #this was fun I liked making it!!#the kageyama boys are so polite #I have some Thoughts about shou being the only one ritsu doesn't give an honorific #I wonder if I can wrangle those thoughts into a coherent post #teru definitely knows ritsu's name so I think calling him brother-kun is just an affectionate thing #or he can't call them BOTH kageyama(-kun) and he doesn't want to call him by his given name #ritsu always calls him teru-san which I think is sweet bc he's the only person ritsu refers to by a nickname #everyone else is always last name #shou on the other hand. I don't think he knew mob's name for most of the manga sdlkjfkldsjf #I don't think he learns mob's name until the confession arc and even then he still calls him ritsu's brother #which is hilarious to me #mob never refers to him by name but I think it's a safe bet that he'd call him suzuki-kun #based on how mob refers to most other people his age/younger #uhhhhh what else #dimple fucking HATES that tome calls him dimple-chan #he complains about it repeatedly in the reigen spinoff sldkjfkldsjf

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clockwayswrites · 7 months

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Not that I'm writing this. Just... collecting all the brain storming notes can't hurt... all... 24 pages of it.

So have two feels moments:

After the drama of Damian finding out about Cos being his clone, they call the day early because it's been traumatic (and Bruce has research to do ). And Danny asks Cos to wait in the car for a moment and he turns to Bruce.

"He picked his own name. He didn't even have one, when I found him. I helped him look, but he picked it. He gets to choose how to grow his hair and what to wear and what color sheets to buy and what shows he wants to watch." Danny takes a deep breath. "He hates tea and loves coffee. Nothing is too spicy for him. He sings along badly to all the pop songs and I love it every time. He's a good kid. I'm not sure if he's a he all the time. And he's more- so much more- than a clone. He's a person. He is my kid and nothing will change that. And I won't let anyone hurt him because of how he was made."

And Bruce is just reminded all over again why he likes Danny so much. “I am glad you found him, Danny.”

Later, Damian is still struggling to deal with everything. And know Cos a person is somehow worse, in some ways. After all, Talia made the clones to replace Damian. He crawls into Bruce's bed that night, which he hasn't done in a good, long while without a sibling starting it. But he just needs his dad so he crawls into bed and he so quietly asks, "Am I still good enough?"

Of course Bruce doesn't even hesitate. "Always. You are Damian, my son. And I wouldn't want you to be anyone else."

#cosmas the clone #dp x dc #spirit halloween ship

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cupidhoons · 23 days

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you are the only exception ⟡ ksn

syn you hate everyone — everyone except him

genre & warnings non idol! au, popular(ish)! sunoo, grumpy reader x sunshine sunoo, pure fluff, s2f2l, lmk if there's more back2navi

NOTE HURRAY A SUNOO FIC!! i love my baby TO DEATH kim sunoo ily i wish U were Real 🙁🙁 this is also for @ashtxrie my fav sunoo stan 😇 also happy 200 posts to me :)!! thank you all for the love 🫶

you hated school. you hated walking there every morning and you hated those teenage boys who are way too loud about their business. you hated the girls who would go up to you and tease you about how lonely you are. you hated every single aspect of your current life.

except for kim sunoo.

sunoo was the only person in your school to ever go up to you with clear intentions of being your friend. you remember him coming into the school and almost immediately became one of the popular kids. he was a ray of sunshine — your ray of sunshine.

he came up to you with the brightest smile anyone could ever have. you swore you fell in love right then and there — i mean, who wouldn't?

"hello! i'm sunoo, what's your name?!" he beams brightly. you were slightly taken aback by his actions, of course. no one ever came up to you unless they wanted to make a backhanded compliment towards you.

"um...hi?" you say hesitantly. it hasn't even been a full week since he's been here — did he already hear stuff about you?

he looks at you expectantly. with his bright eyes looking into yours, it was hard to focus on what he had just said to you. you hear him clear his throat and you snap back into reality.

"sorry...um...i'm y/n. it's nice to meet you, sunoo." you say in a monotoned voice. you expect him stop smiling and walk away — similar to how everyone else does — but to your surprise he doesn't.

from that day on he never left you alone. you didn't mind as it was nice to have someone around you. you eventually got closer and you slowly let your guard down. he was the first person to ever see you smile and laugh.

"oh my god! y/n, did you just laugh at my joke!?" he says in disbelief. you never usually laugh at his jokes — as they were incredibly corny — but today, you couldn't help it. not only was it actually funny, but it was also a sign that you were getting comfortable with him.

you giggle at his reaction as you nod. "i'm afraid i did. i didn't know you were capable of being funny!" he lets out a dramatic gasp which makes you smile even wider.

"and i didn't know you were capable of even smiling!"

"well, that makes the two of us."

since then your friendship has bloomed into more romantic terms. you realized that it was getting harder to focus on your schoolwork, which by the way, was unlike you. not only that, but you also had insane amount of butterflies whenever you talked to him.

so, one thing led to another. it got to a point where you couldn't keep in your feelings anymore and you ended up accidentally confessing. you worried that he was going to leave you — but he didn't.

"yah! why do you look like you're about to cry?! didn't you hear me?! i like you too, stupid!" he lightly pushes your shoulder in a teasing way then pouts. "you know i hate seeing you cry! and as your boyfriend, i can't let you cry!"

he pulls you closer to him and cups your face. you look at him surprised.

"i told you once that i'll never leave you. so don't worry, okay? i'm not going anywhere, nor do i plan to." and before you could say anything — he puts his soft lips on yours.

he stays true to his promise today. as you lay in bed with your now boyfriend, admiring his features as he sleeps. the sun seeping through the window as you snuggle closer to him — he was the only exception, and you didn't plan on changing that.

permanent taglist (open — send an ask to be added) ; @kyoaeri @copyhanni @flwrstqr @dioll @wonifullove

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recuira · 8 months

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after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one chapter two chapter three

chapter four | suede. stalking. silly.

his pov;

"Your wanted poster."

Those three words settled in my mind as I stared at the distraught girl in front of me, watching as she fumbled with her hands, a nervous exterior brushing over her. She seemed to be so horrified with the fact that I was once a pirate sought after by thousands- wanted dead or alive, though much preferred dead. Many still wanted me dead but due to my brilliant idea of hiding out here, the chance of anyone getting my bounty was thin. I, however, didn't see it being as much of a big deal as she deemed it so. The real issue I found was tucked away in one of the books within the nightstand which I was so fucking thankful she didn't find. I'd rather her not have been looking around but if she were to find one of the two? I was glad she found the poster.

I tossed another slice of apple into my mouth then set the knife down on the cutting board. I approached Y/N but instantly halted when I noticed how nervous and uneasy she was. "What's wrong?"

"H-How many people did you kill?" She asked, her voice shaking.

"Does that really matter?" I asked, waving my hands up in the air to hopefully exaggerate my point. "It was almost a year ago."

"That doesn't change the fact that it happened!"

"I know, I know." Despite her discomfort, I took a seat next to her anyway. She tightened her arms around herself, almost to make sure there was as much distance between us without her actually moving. Clenching my jaw, I patted my hands upon my thighs. "I know it's a terrible thing, and there's nothing I can do to change that. It's in the past and if I could go back and alter things, I would. Being a pirate was all I knew. My old friend was one, too. Then we separated onto different things and-"

"Did he kill people?"

"Lots of pirates kill people. It's part of the hype, ya know? It's very unlikely to raid another ship without there being any casualties. But I stopped because I got tired of it. I wanted something more."

"It's a pretty big bounty. I mean- come on, fifteen million berries?"

"Don't think about turning me in now," I chuckled, wanting to add a bit of lightheartedness to this unfortunate predicament.

"I'm not like that. I know I'm in need of money but-"

"I didn't mean it like that, Y/N, come on. Give me some slack."

"Well, why exactly did you stop? Did you lose the thrill of stealing from others? O-Or did you get bored of killing innocent people?"

I rolled my eyes, scoffing. "We've all done some shit we're ashamed of. We're humans. I did a lot of fucked up shit," I said as I pointed at myself. "But I changed that. I moved and let all that go. I left my crew, made someone else the captain, and abandoned ship. I left all of that shit behind and came here."

"But why?"

"If I say this, I'll probably make things worse but I don't want to lie anymore," I said as I laid back, folding my hands over my chest. I stared up at the ceiling. "You've obviously heard of the One Piece, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, I was one of those pirates absolutely obsessed with finding it. Fuck, I even dreamt about it. It was the only thing I truly desired in life. It was the only thing I thought about. Not riches, women, alcohol- just the One Piece. I was making somewhat decent progress but then I heard that a group of Straw Hats-" I grimaced at the thought. "-made off with the map which they stole from one of the Marine bases. I happened to track them down and I managed to steal the map from some kid named Monkey D. Luffy. But all good things must come to an end and I lost it. I was back to square one. And then I discovered his bounty was thirty million berries." I frowned then sat up, turning to face Y/N. "Can you believe that? Some newby pirate-wannabe received a bounty double my own! Seeing that brought me back to reality. So I dropped everything then came here."

"All because of him?"

I nodded my head. Just the thought of that kid irked me. There was no one, other than Shanks, who I despised more than my own self.

"So, yeah, I know what I did was fucked up. But there's a reason I'm here now. There's a reason I've given you so much. It's because I want to be a better person, maybe redeem myself for what I've done. And I can do that by helping you, by making your life a little less miserable."

"Do you pity me?" The girl asked, finally meeting my gaze.

"What?" I laughed, almost obnoxiously. "Of course not. If anything, I envy you."

"Me?" Y/N pointed at herself. "You envy me?"

"You have no bad conscience. You've done nothing wrong, you have nothing to make up for. You have a clean slate."

She shrugged, a small smile creeping onto her lips. "Thank you."

"So, uh, do you hate me now?" I asked, forcing a frown to mimic a pouting child. She giggled at this and shook her head. I sighed in relief, wiping 'sweat' from my forehead. "Thank god. I don't know what I'd do with myself if you hated me."

"I knew you were a pirate but it's still shocking to learn about your past. It'll take me a bit to get used to it but I don't hate you."

"So, we're good?" I extended my hand.

"We're good." She shook it.

I felt as if a huge relief was lifted off my shoulders. And as long as she stayed out of the nightstand, there would be no more issues. But if I hid the book, then I would be even more safe. I pondered the possibilities before I watched as she rose from the confines of the bed and approached the counter. My eyes trailed down. The backs of her thighs were exposed and the shorts clung to her ass so divinely. I bit my lip and crossed my leg over my lap.

"I appreciate everything you've done for me," She mumbled as she started to chew on an apple, then began to cut into an orange. "I do have a question for you, though."

"Go ahead, shoot." As soon as she turned around, my eyes met hers and I smiled.

"Are devil fruits real? Or is that just an old tale? I've never seen one up close and I heard they cost a fortune, even for just one alone."

"They're real," I said with a small laugh. "I would know, I've eaten one."

Y/N nearly jumped before she darted over toward me, her hands grabbing at my shoulders. She still had a slice of half-chewed apple in her mouth which made her struggle to properly speak. "WHAT? You- NO! You didn't?!" She let go of my arms and instead planted her hands on my chest, shoving me back. I collapsed back against the bed, laughing. "You ate one?!"

"Years ago, when I was fifteen."

"You're lying!"

"I'm not. It was a mistake actually."

"What happened?"

I chuckled and pushed myself back up. "Give me an orange and I'll tell you."

If my reflexes weren't so quick, the fruit would've hit me in the face with how quick she threw it. But I caught it and began to pick apart the peel. "Easy, next time," I smirked and took a bite from it. "Well, when I was younger and was a pirate-in-training, the crew I was in raided this ginormous ship and hit the motherload. Not only gold and jewels and anything you could think of, but there was also a devil fruit. I found out how much they were worth and tried to steal it but I was caught in a predicament and I tried to hide it in my mouth."

"And?"

"I swallowed it whole."

She gasped, "And you're alive?"

"It doesn't kill you. It just takes your ability to swim when you're in the ocean, in salt water. It's like the sea turned its back on you."

"Did you get a power from it?"

I shrugged and winked at her, taking another bite. I licked the juices from my hand. "Guess."

"You can fly?"

"Ha! Nope."

"Read minds?"

"It's body-altering."

"Wait," The lovely maiden smirked, taking a seat on the bed. "Did it give you that red nose?" She snickered.

"Guess again," I said flatly, my expression turning cold as I stared at her. She gulped, clenching her jaw. I laughed and looked down at my lap, now using one hand to hold the orange. I continued to chew on it. But while she was distracted with her numerous attempts to guess what kind of body-altering power I had, I detached my left hand at the wrist. It floated behind the both of us and tapped on her right shoulder. Y/N jumped up, her head shooting to look at her side. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows furrowed together before she spotted my floating hand waving at her. She gasped and slapped it away. I broke out into a fit of laughter, my hand reconnecting to my wrist. "Impressive, huh?"

"You- what?" She was still flabbergasted.

"I ate the chop-chop fruit. It allows me to pretty much chop any part of my body. Like I can-" To avoid grossing her out, I chopped my left leg from my thigh instead of my head from my neck. She watched in amazement. I smiled at this. "I can disconnect anything from my body from my toes to my ears to my-"

"Even... ya know?"

I winked. "Oh, yeah. That, too."

"That's so cool. How come you haven't done it before around me?"

"I don't know. I just never found a reason to." Shrugging my shoulders, I allowed my leg to snap back. I continued to chew on the orange before finishing it and tossing the peel into a small bin to the left of the bedside table. Y/N finished hers as well. She wiped her hands down on her shirt.

"So, uh," I chewed on my bottom lip. "Do you think you and your mother will be okay?"

"Yeah. We fight all the time. Her drinking doesn't help."

I cringed. "Really?"

"Yeah, she's one of the reasons I hate it so much."

I pursed my lips and nodded my head. I knew I needed to cut back on it but it was something I've done for well over more than half my life. Though, I was destined to do it. Not only for myself, but for her, too. I'd do anything for Y/N. "So," I began, "what do you want to do today?"

"I need to go make up with my mother. That's a big to-do. I can't stand her ever being upset with me." The girl said as she stood up, slipping her shoes back onto her feet. "We can have dinner tonight if you want. Maybe you could meet her."

"Meet your mom?"

"Yeah, why not? She was wondering where all that money came from. She thought I stole it."

"Hell, I don't know. I'm not good with meeting new people."

"Will you, at least, consider it?"

"Sure," I smirked.

"Thank you." Y/N reached for the doorknob, giving it a strong and firm tug before it yanked open. A gush of cold wind washed over her, almost knocking her back. I tossed her my coat to which she whispered another 'thank you' then slipped it on. "I'll see you, Buggy."

"Bye," I murmured with a smile.

As soon as the door shut, I jumped down from the bed and pulled the drawer out from the nightstand, dropping it on the stone floor. I sorted through the numerous books and grabbed the novel I was so fucking thankful she didn't look through. As I opened the cover, the hollowed book had contents that almost spilled out. Papers among papers, among sketches fell out, wafting along the floor. Several notes about Y/N puddled on the floor. One, which was my favorite, was a letter I wrote to her- well, I refused to send it. If I sent it, any last fiber of my confidence would be crushed like a scrambled egg. My fingers lined the rigid edges as I unfolded it.

Messy paragraphs lined both the front and back of the page.

I smiled. How long ago did I write this? I haven't looked at it in so long. I usually added a sentence to it each time I saw Y/N, which is why it was so long. But I stopped pouring my thoughts and desires into it when I actually had the pleasure of speaking to her.

If she saw this, I would kill myself.

I'd purposely jump into the ocean with two anchors attached to my feet.

I looked over the first paragraph,

'I've never wanted something so badly in my life. To say I yearned for her would be a complete understatement. I longed for her, I yearned, I desired- In simple terms, I wanted her. I mean, how could I not? She was an angel. She was a siren. I would purposely listen to her enchanting song, allowing my boat to crash, just if it meant I could be graced by her presence, by her beauty. I was obsessed with her. If she found out my thoughts, my desires, she would never let herself be seen with me. I wouldn't blame her, though. I was obsessive. It was unhealthy, I knew that. But I didn't care. I wouldn't say I loved her because I didn't know what that felt like. I've never experienced it. But perhaps I did love her. I didn't know, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was the only treasure I wanted. Not the One Piece, no. Not even that could match up to her alluring person. If I had to travel every sea in order to find her, battle every sea snake in order to touch her, I would. I would in a heartbeat.'

I grimaced, cringing at what I was reading. Thank god, she didn't see this. I didn't even want to see this.

I tucked the papers back into the hollowed-out book, closing it. I slipped the other novels into the drawer then slid it into the nightstand. With the book of secrets, I needed to hide it somewhere she could never find it- where even I struggled to find it. I didn't want to throw it out for I would be completely discarding all of those moments we had together, although she couldn't reconcile them with me because at that time, I was nonexistent to her.

Maybe I could follow my own idea and form my own message in a bottle. I never mentioned her name, nor my own. To an outsider's perspective, it was anonymous.

I shook my head and slipped the book back into the bedside table. She wouldn't be back anytime soon so I had enough time to properly execute a fool-proof plan.

But right now?

I needed to go get another coat.

-=-

her pov;

My mother and I resolved things, just like always. And when she caught wind of a pirate suddenly becoming very fond of me, she begged me to invite him over for dinner. I didn’t think that was the best of ideas. Going out to dinner? Sure! But to have him over? At our house? I cringed at the idea.

She fell ill months ago. Nothing too major, but ever since she’s gotten better, she despises leaving the house and even made me bring her bed downstairs so she could sleep next to the kitchen just in case she had a hankering for something to eat. It was ridiculous, I knew that. But I couldn’t just tell her no. She was my own mother. While I was old enough, I definitely wasn't going to willingly disobey her.

She persisted that I go and grab Buggy so we could have him over for dinner, while I insisted we all go out to eat. She hated the idea and told me that it was her house, her rules.

I grimaced at the thought.

Now, I was just outside Buggy's home, knocking on the stone door. I hoped he was home, though there was no possibility of me being able to ask him prior to my arrival. I knew he was busy. He was a very busy man. I was surprised he made time for me.

With another knock, another silence fell. I groaned and backed up.

My eyes trailing down, I stared at the doorknob and chewed on my bottom lip. He wouldn't care if I waited inside, right? We trusted each other. He knew where I lived and I knew where he lived. As far as I knew, he never crossed any of my boundaries and I definitely didn't cross any of his- well, except for maybe 'snooping' through his nightstand.

Without thinking too much more about it, I grabbed the rusted doorknob, gave it a firm twist, then shoved it open. I almost fell through the doorway.

I caught my balance and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Without the lantern being lit, it was rather dark, but the bright blue sky helped to illuminate the small room. He must've not been home since I left.

I looked around, admiring everything.

As I took a seat on the edge of the bed, I noticed a piece of paper laying on the floor. It wasn't there before.

I raised an eyebrow and reached to grab it but before I could, the door flung open, a certain blue-haired pirate standing in the entrance. When he noticed me, he smirked. I gulped.

"So, we're breaking and entering, are we?" The man grinned as he took a few paces forward.

"I'm sorry," I murmured, scratching the back of my neck. "I came over to ask you about dinner but you weren't here so I figured I would wait."

"No worries, I'm only teasing."

"So?" I folded my arms, leaning forwards.

"So what?" Buggy questioned as he slipped his coat off. Since when did he get a new coat? And why? I was only borrowing the one he lent me. I didn't plan on keeping it. But I guess now it was okay if I did.

"Dinner? Are you available?"

"Hmm, it depends. What time?"

"I don't know, sometime tonight? Only for two hours or so. My mother wanted to meet you. I told her about you."

"What did you tell her?"

"That you've been a friend of mine for a few weeks now and you've been fortunate enough to treat me and help me out," I said with a smile. "She thought you were my boyfriend." I chuckled.

"Heh, that's rich," Buggy said as he turned around to close the door.

"So? Can you?"

"I guess so. Just don't leave me alone with her. I really don't want to be bombarded with questions." The man said as he folded the jacket over his arm then slung it on the countertop. "Did you tell her about my nose?"

I laughed, confused. "No? Why would I?"

"It's my defining feature. It's hard not to notice it when you see me."

"I didn't tell her. I didn't think it was important. I even forget it's there."

The clown burst out in laughter, his eyes closing as he clutched his stomach and nearly fell back with his fit of giggles. I pursed my lips. "What's so funny?" I asked as I crossed my arms.

"It's cute how you're trying to be nice to me. With a nose like mine, how can you forget it's there?" He replied while wiping a tear from his eye.

I felt flustered with the first part of his monologue but I ignored it and shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, I just do. It's not all I see whenever I look at you, ya know. It's not my main focus point when we speak. I look at your eyes, not your nose."

"And yet again, you prove to me that you're different than others."

I smiled. "Hope that's a good thing."

Buggy smirked, winking his left eye. "Of course it is."

The pirated approached me before he knelt down and picked up the piece of paper. He examined it for a moment then laughed to himself. "Grocery list," He explained as he shoved the paper into his pocket.

I paid no attention to the paper. It wasn't any of my business. "Speaking of groceries, want to go help me get food for dinner?"

"What's on the menu?"

"No idea, but let's just grab something so she won't be bitching later."

"Guess I'll be needing this again," The blue-haired man said as he reached to grab his jacket. He slipped his arms through and adjusted the collar. "We match now."

"Mine's more vintage than yours." I winked.

"Oh, so it's yours now?"

"No?" I gulped.

Buggy giggled. "It is. I got my own now so no worries about giving it back. Unless you'd like to trade from time to time."

"No, I like this one."

The man looked at me, an eyebrow cocked upward.

I paid his look no attention and instead looked down at the tattered suede coat I wore. I inhaled softly. It smelled like him.

A soft odor mixed with whiskey, coconut, and cinnamon. And while I hated the stench of alcohol, it worked for him.

I couldn't imagine him without it.

#buggy the clown #buggy the genius jester #buggy x reader #captain buggy #one piece live action #buggy smut #buggy one piece #op buggy #buggy #x reader #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #one piece buggy #buggy opla

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