Sirius 🥺 Also Y/n Is A Badass And Care For Harry 🤩🥺

NO, IT'S NOT THE WORST FIC I'VE READ. IT'S THE BEST ONE.

I love this so much. Everything is so well written and my heart was doing flips reading it.

Bakugou being a simp is everything to me. And Shoto being the best of friends is 🤌.

x : KISS ME ! :*+ﾟ whisper what your heart shows, all i want is you

in which: a stealth mission gone awry leads to a chain of events (or kisses) where you question your relationship with bakugou.

warnings: 8K WORDS, FLUFF WITH ANGST, so much kissing lmfao, slowburn, sfw steamy scenes + suggestive ending- starts intense and ends intense, pining idiots, lovesick idiots, soooo much swearing because it's bakugou, platonic friendships with todoroki and midoriya, all characters aged 22+, gn!pro-hero!reader, bad writing pls excuse me.

a/n: SEVENTH ATTEMPT AT POSTING THIS!!!! GOD this took six days to write, i am exhausted. if you don't like it i will cry bc this drained me, goodness, so reblogs appreciated! i'm so insecure abt this fic so pls tell me i did well, anyways. missed writing for my skrunkly boi!

# ONE ! - the first kiss. 

this was not ideal.

you listen with widened eyes and a racing heart as you’re pressed against the brick wall of a dingey alleyway, bakugou’s warm palms holding your hips tightly as his chest is pushed up against yours.

he is not looking at you, but instead, looking off to the side so he can hear a little clearer. on the other hand, all you could see was bakugou’s killer jawline, his perfectly smooth skin, and one half of his violent scowl. 

the silence is disturbing, all you can hear is your heartbeat and bakugou’s heavy breaths, anticipation weighing down the air as you both try to suppress your breathing.

then it comes. heavy footsteps. multiple of them. they’re running your way and at this rate, you’ll be caught by the enemy. what, with bakugou’s hulking figure and the hoodie that just barely covered his spikey blond hair, one glance to their left and you would be caught. 

this was no good. there’s no way to get out of this alleyway in time either without attracting attention and being caught.

having a stealth mission gone awry was really embarrassing, especially when you’re pretty sure that bakugou can feel your heartbeat reverberating against him. you hope that he chalks it up to the nervousness you were currently feeling rather than the effect his proximity had on you. or, just the general effect he had on you.

“they’re coming,” you whisper so that only bakugou can hear. he finally looks you in the eye, sneering with fury in his crimson eyes. you almost flinch from the intensity of his gaze.

“i fucking know,” he retorts. “our only options are fight or flight, i’m thinking we take them.” 

with a drawled out exhale, an idea pops into your head. he’s definitely not going to approve, however.

“i’m gonna kiss you and you’re gonna need to like it.”

the footsteps are getting closer, you can now hear mumbling of the enemies chasing after you and bakugou. their leader is shouting commands and the subordinates are obeying, responding in kind with an ‘sir!’.

“excuse me?”

he’s so beautiful up close. 

“just, trust me.” 

more shouts, more thundering footsteps, all silenced when you lean in to catch bakugou’s lips with yours. his exclamation of surprise is muffled before he promptly melts into you, hands now travelling up your waist as your arms wound around his neck. there’s an element of stiffness still as his mouth moves against yours, but you doubt you’re any better. 

this wasn’t your first mission together, and most likely won’t be your last. however, the missions he normally accompanied you on were ambush, patrol, and dealing with general threats. stealth missions were a completely different story because bakugou was the loudest hero to ever exist. 

so what was he thinking when he insisted on going along with you? for safety? he was the threat-

“jump,” his words cut through your thoughts like a warm knife through butter and with the way his hands sneak down to the back of your thighs, you can’t help but give in to his demands like a programmed machine. 

you wrap your legs around his waist, deepening the kiss whilst doing so.

bakugou presses you harder against the wall, ignoring the way his mouth smirks against yours as one of your hands go to cradle his jaw. you’re careful to not remove the hood covering his very obvious blond mop of hair.

you’re letting him lead you through the kiss and it’s intense to say the least. you’re getting increasingly light-headed, but no part of you wants this to stop, screaming with bliss as he avidly seeks your lips, even when you lean back for a short moment to catch your breath.

for an interaction purposefully orchestrated, he’s really getting into it. would he kiss all his coworkers like this when they asked?

several heavy footsteps pass by and you’re just in your right mind to hear someone say ‘get a room’ before fading away. you were safe, you could run and make your escape now- a message bakugou hasn’t yet comprehended despite how honed his senses are. with the last bit of conscious you have, you physically drag his face away from yours (otherwise you don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop him). 

there’s a moment of silence where you both just stare into the other’s eyes, lips swollen and eyes wide with the realisation of what just happened.

“they’re gone,” you whisper, tearing apart the post-kiss euphoria. “put me down.”

with a grunt, he obliges, allowing you to slip away from him and into the main road again. 

“let’s go whilst we have the chance. get ready to fly, blasty.”

bakugou is surprisingly silent for the remainder of the mission. 

# TWO ! - the fleeting kiss.

surprisingly, there hasn’t been much mention of the incident you had with bakugou ever since you returned from your stealth mission. intel was acquired, shared with the people who needed it, and nothing was discussed again. to be frank, you don’t know how to feel about it.

on one hand, you’re relieved to not be able to relive the experience again but on the other, you’re disappointed to not be able to relive the experience again.

it’s been back to normal with bakugou. the occasional middle finger in the hallways, sticking your tongue at him during meetings, going into his office to bug him and him being very irritated despite not having the heart to remove you. everything fell right back into place, with an obvious piece now awkwardly attaching itself to the puzzle. 

when you simply think about what happened, your heart begins to race uncontrollably and you’re rendered stupid for a minute as you have to collect yourself. 

which is why you were throwing your head back in frustration as the cursor of your laptop blinks back at you, a sentence half-written in mocking.

“fuck off,” you whisper to yourself, punching your head even though you knew it would do nothing to stop the replay of the memory. your eyes were beginning to feel sore, mind slowly entering a state of numbness as the idea of taking a quick nap on your desk seemed more tempting than ever. 

oh well, it wouldn’t hurt.

pushing aside your laptop, keyboard, and papers, your submission to sleep is quick and effortless, not even complaining about the roughness of your desk jabbing into your chest as you doze off. 

the door to the office opens, revealing bakugou standing in the doorway holding some files and a cup of tea- your favourite, to be precise. he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, swearing that you were in your office, except the sight of a totally barren room greeted him made him stop in his tracks. where could you have gone? 

then, he hears breathing coming from behind your desk and as the blond approaches your space, he can’t help the sigh escaping him at the sight of your figure hunched over your work, head rested on your hands. you were just hidden behind your office desk and the massive company monitors. 

if being a hero doesn’t kill him first, then how adorable you were just might.

“you have a couch in your office for a reason, dumbass,” bakugou breathes to no one in particular. 

placing the items in his hand on your desk, the pro-hero takes his time analysing the best way to smoothly pick you up without waking you. assessing the situation in record time, he slowly wounds his arms behind your legs and shoulders, effortlessly picking you up to walk the short distance to the couch.

it’s with an unmatched gentleness that he places you down on the piece of furniture, briefly observing how peaceful you seem. bakugou didn’t have it in him to be mad at you for slacking off. with how you dedicate so much of yourself to your duties, he knows first hand just how hard you work. 

he’s seen it since knowing you at u.a and he sees it now as you work at his agency.

he hopes you take care of yourself properly as well.

it hits bakugou that he still has work to be done and that he really should get back to his office to minimise some of the load. so, with a grunt, he stands up.

as a bid of farewell, bakugou places a hand on the arm of the couch before leaning in to press a kiss on your forehead, lingering there for a second before pulling away, retreating back into the hallways where his agency’s top-heroes worked. 

the domesticity of this encounter leaves him wanting more. an innate desire to care for you when times get rough settling stubbornly in his gut; and as a pro hero, times always get rough. however, bakugou knows he’s capable of holding up your load simultaneously to his, he just hopes you can understand that as well despite being relentlessly independent.

# THREE ! - the kiss to silence you. 

you meet your gaze in the full-length mirror of your office with a huff, adjusting the neckline of your attire as you turn around to check your backside in the reflection too. 

this outfit was mediocre at best and you didn’t feel stunning in it at all. there was no way it would match up to the extravagant outfits you’ve shown up to hero galas and balls in the past, but since the gala was literally tomorrow, and you’ve delayed getting a dress to this point, it was impossible to go for another fitting.

“y/n, have you got the signed files- whoa.”

you meet bakugou’s fiery gaze in the mirror, turning around to greet him with a shy smile, somewhat embarrassed that he showed up at the exact moment you were all dressed up. immediately, you try to play it cool but scolded yourself internally for ignoring the gut feeling that someone would walk in whilst you were trying on your outfit- you just did not preempt for it to be the most attractive man in the building. 

“uh yeah, i actually do have them. what do you need them for?” you ask, shyly using your hands to cover some parts of yourself despite bakugou already having seen a lot of your skin because of accidents and injuries on missions. 

“i gotta send them off to deku’s agency,” he mutters, keeping his gaze low as he treks over to your desk. if you weren’t too caught up in your own feelings of humiliation, you would’ve seen the way his ears flared red, the tint spreading to his cheeks.

then you suddenly blurt out a question for him. “do you think i look good?” 

you meet his gaze in the mirror again, subtly feeling a part of you swell in pride at the way his eyes rake over your figure.

“you look amazing. is the dress for tomorrow?” he begins to approach you, stopping when he’s right behind you. 

“yeah. i don’t really like it that much.”

“don’t be ridiculous. you’re a sight to behold.”

“thank you,” you mutter half-heartedly, lips twisting with uncertainty. giving bakugou the necklace in your hands that complimented the bracelets you adorned, he immediately understands the message. you try not to react when his warm hands come in contact with your neck. “i just don’t think this outfit is flattering though.”

with nimble fingers, he clasps the chain successfully. “why?” 

“the colour, the shape, it doesn’t feel right, and i really hate it. i would go out and try to buy another dress but there’s so little time, every appointment is booked because i was stupid enough to avoid getting-”

a kiss behind your ear silences you effortlessly and you feel your breath being stolen when notice bakugou craning his neck down to meet your height. 

“calm down, you’re beginning to ramble,” he whispers and you just stare at him with an agape mouth, something that causes him to smirk. then, his hands find their purchase on your waist and it takes a lot of your resolve to not melt into his warmth.

ever since the daring kiss you shared on the mission, bakugou’s been less and less conservative about the affection he shows you. from openly admiring you when having lunch in the agency cafeteria, to manhandling you freely, to leaving kisses, you don’t know if your heart can keep up with his sudden change in behaviour.

worst part is, you can’t tell if it means anything to him like it does to you.

bakugou is japan’s most desired bachelor. maybe apart from his attitude, there is no public figure adored more than the blond who is standing right behind you. he’s always been known to do things his own way. no rules or preconceived notions can hold him back from doing what he wants. perhaps his shamelessness is a new symbol of how comfortable he is around you, 

you just wish it could be something more; something more… intimate.

but you could never reach bakugou, could you?

“i think you look beautiful but my opinion doesn’t matter. you want a new dress?” asks the blond and you nod wordlessly. “i know a place. let me give them a call, owner won’t ever say no to me after i saved her from her. got so many last minute pieces from her store. i’ll cover the bill too, just make sure you like what you wear.” 

he walks away with new swagger in his stride and you can only stare after him, dumbfounded. 

well, at least your problems were solved. 

bakugou might become a new problem. 

# FOUR ! - the kiss of adoration. 

the nerves in the limousine were uncontainable. as your sidekicks chattered amongst themselves, trying to rid any anxieties for the long night ahead, you couldn’t help but recall your first gala a few years ago. a celebration to commemorate the heroes of japan and everything they do for the peace and safety was always a big deal.

however, having done this several times ever since graduating from U.A few years ago, there’s little for you to be nervous about.

funny that you were only a few years older than your youngest sidekick (who was 18 years old), yet you were already exhausted by all the extravaganza and decorum. 

as the limousine approaches the drop off area where all the paparazzi were waiting, it didn’t take long for a tremendous tattle of inaudible words and shouts to erupt from them given that the windows were not totally tinted, meaning they could identify who was inside. being one of the biggest hero agencies would have this effect, especially when you were representing the name of #2 himself. but, even if it wasn’t bakugou stepping out of the car himself, your rank still placed you remarkably in the greedy eyes of the public.

as your sidekicks file out one by one, with camera flashes practically every millisecond, the hype only worsens when you emerge.

the paparazzi are respectful enough to avoid the path where heroes were walking by and as you wave, smile, and bow to all of them, compliments of how stunning you looked and shouts of ‘look here!’ all faded into the crowd. then, you made it out.

“well, if it isn’t y/n,” a familiar, baritone calls out from behind you. 

at the sight of a kind, smiling face, you can’t help your grin from breaking out. “shouto. to what do i owe the honour?”

“no need to be so formal with me,” your dual-quirked friend says with open arms, ones that you rush into quite eagerly. shouto always gave such welcoming hugs, you’ve been weak to them since second year of u.a. you ignore the camera flashes in your direction. “i’m just happy to see you here tonight.”

“i’m happy to see you too.”

“knowing you, you probably want to escape from here as soon as possible through any means possible.”

“you are correct.”

“i hope you have room for another escapee.”

his questions causes you to recall fondly to the many galas and events both you and todoroki slipped out of- a feat easier said than done, especially when people are constantly on the look out for their top heroes. 

“i don’t know, i like to go solo,” you say with faux contemplation, “but you’re the only exception.”

“well, i’m honoured, especially since you look gorgeous tonight. your outfit is beautiful,” compliments todoroki before grabbing your hand to spin you around, an action you comply with readily and has you both chuckling to yourselves.

“thank you, shouto. you look irresistible as always.”

before he can reply, a familiar mop of green hair joins both yours and todoroki’s side and when you turn to see the face of the newcomer, midoriya’s smiling and bright expression greets you. he immediately forgoes all greetings. 

“y/n! you look like you came from a runway,” midoriya marvels before embracing you in a side hug, repeating the same action to the half-and-half hero in front of you. “stunning as always. you too, todoroki!”

you wave his compliment off, flattered at his honesty. “thank you, midoriya. i only managed to pull this look together yesterday if i’m being completely real,” you say with a small chuckle, “but you look very handsome tonight. love this suit, the colour fits you well!”

todoroki nods, “i agree with y/n, and, congratulations on your agency’s latest partnership.” 

“thank you! i’m excited to see what will come from it, hopefully a lot of good things because-”

“oi, cut it with the rambling, nerd!” 

ah, there he is. you never could really miss bakugou’s presence.

“you’re already beginning to soil my night,” the blond continues when he emerges from behind midoriya. they’ve grown to about the same height now, with midoriya still two centimetres or so shorter than bakugou, but it’s always funny to see how the latter acts as if he’s all big and intimidating (as if todoroki isn’t taller than him). 

“ah, kacchan!” midoriya greets, making room for the blond to fit in the circle as kirishima trails behind him. 

as soon as the red-haired notices you, he gawks, mouth and eyes wide. “y/n!” exclaims the hardening hero. “looking gorgeous, man!.”

“that’s what we all said,” todoroki deadpans and you feel a little flustered from all the eyes on you- especially with the addition of a certain crimson pair. “should we all head in now? the paparazzi is getting on my nerves.”

“sure,” agrees deku, who turns to you with an extended arm. “need any help?”

you’re about to take his offer and hold on before he’s unceremoniously pushed to the side by bakugou, who offers you his arm instead with a mean look directed to midoriya. a glance of knowing is shared amongst the rest of your former classmates as they all make their way up the stairs.

“i thought midoriya was perfectly capable of helping me himself,” you chuckle before latching on to his forearm. 

bakugou scoffs. “not as capable as me.”

“sure, because only the great, pro-hero dynamight can help me up the stairs.” 

“damn straight.” his pride is undeniably endearing, even if it’s a little pointless at times. 

as he guides you up the stairs, your heart flutters a little at the way he holds you so delicately, all of his attention directed upon you and your safety. when you reach the top, you’re about to enter the ball room and let go of bakugou to talk to more people, but it seems like the blond has other plans.

with a small tug, you’re directed back to him, about to collide with his chest until a hand on your hips stops your momentum.

“the stylist i gave you worked, huh?” he whispers lowly.

“yes she did. you really saved me,” you respond, feeling your heart skip a beat at the way his eyes rake over your body for a moment before he’s meeting your gaze again. “you think i look good?”

“i think you look fuckin’ breathtaking.”

you keen at his authentic compliment, trying not to let him see how it effected you. “well, this is all thanks to you so i owe you- money wise and everything else.” 

“you can repay me by bein’ my date for the night,” he suggests, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb before bringing it up to his lips, placing a delicate kiss there as he maintains eye contact.

you gulp, agreeing before you can even think about the magnitude of his question.

“you with me? you seem a little far away,” asks bakugou. far away was just the beginning of it.

shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you nod wordlessly before grabbing his arm to pull him towards the bustling crowd of heroes. every group if briefly silenced when you and the explosive hero pass by, eyes lingering a little too long at the arm that bakugou has around your waist.

this feels surreal. 

he stands behind you like an intimidating shadow as you both speak to a range of people from support tech ambassadors, business consultants, aspiring heroes and sponsors- a crowd that only grows with the years you’ve been working in the industry. 

surprisingly, no one is brave enough to question what is happening between you and bakugou upfront. 

eventually, everyone moves into a separate hall where dinner would be served. since you and bakugou were representing the same agency, your names were already on the same table. when realising that you were seated across from him, he scowls and shamelessly swaps the tags around, not at all remorseful when he sits down on his assigned seat and pats the vacant spot next to him. with an eye roll, you oblige dutifully. 

“hold still,” you command the blond before reaching over to fix his tie, tightening it and aligning it properly before sitting back in satisfaction at your efforts. “there. handsome and proper.”

“handsome, huh?” bakugou teases with a shit-eating grin and you scoff, pushing his face away jokingly. you mutter an unimpressed ‘whatever’, ignoring the laughter that rips from the blond. 

moving the conversation along, you sit up in your seat a little bit. “did you see who was sitting at our table when you moved everything around?”

“just a bunch of old geezers. there’s that one marketing manager of some support gear business who kept bugging me last year to consider partnering with him,” he scoffs. 

“your luck, huh?” 

“fuck off, i’m just gonna ignore him for the whole night.”

“sure, do whatever you want, big guy.”

“i will. these extras don’t matter when i’ve already hired all the best in their industries. you’re my first example of that.”

your heart flutters at his recognition, about to respond with a quip when all of a sudden, your table guests materialise in front of you. all of them take their respective seats, settling down with formal greetings as you adjust yourself as well. only bakugou was unmoving, leaning against the back of his chair whilst merely staring every down as they appeared; an attitude very in character for him.

the night goes along rather smoothly. you do majority of the talking, forcing bakugou to respond and answer questions here and there, which he begrudgingly does. at least the people that were on your table were talkative themselves and could converse amongst themselves, leaving you with enough mental space to not solely concentrate on the way the explosion hero was holding your hand under the table.

the occasional caresses he placed along the back of it was enough to slowly drive you insane. he was being really shameless about the whole physical affection ordeal. 

he acts similar to that a boyfriend should and the canniness has made you woozy. so much so that it strains your throat to breathe, hurts your heart to think about and makes your whole being itch with want.

what cemented your doom was the way he was willing to swap your plate with his if yours was a dish you didn’t like. he would offer to take the ingredients you weren’t fond of and give you the ones on his plate that you were. as if that wasn’t the most endearing thing he could do this evening, he would tell you that there’s food around your mouth before wiping it away. you owe a ‘thank you’ to mitsuki and masaru for raising him to be like this. 

when the final dish of dinner was served, many jumped from their seats with the opportunity to mingle around; something that occurred at your table too to your relief. as the representatives all place their business cards in front of you, you farewell them with a friendly smile before slipping the small slips into bakugou’s shirt pocket, something he allows you to do.

“dynamight,” an authoritative voice comes from behind and when you both turn around to see who the instigator is, you’re a little surprised to see a well-dressed man in proper business man attire. he resembled tony stark- even down to his goatee and moustache. “pleasure to meet you. my name is yuu noguchi and i am a specialist in support gear. may i have a second of your time?” 

your eyes widen in recognition at the name. the man standing in front of you was currently one of the most desired support gear directors in the industry and apparently, had the skills to benefit almost every hero, no matter how difficult their requests were. it was thanks to his quirk, something about limitless intelligence.

so it wasn’t only because of the tony stark resemblance that you recognised him. 

bakugou glances at you, inquiring for your approval which you give by ushering him out of his seat. as you watch him strut away with the yuu beside him, you can’t help but feel relieved because now your heart could have a chance to calm down and give your lungs a moment to breathe.

“am i right to assume that you and mr bakugou are an item?” comes a voice from your left.

it’s the old geezer your date was complaining about earlier. somehow he sneaked his way from across the table to right next to you, leaning over now-empty plates of food as he gives you a look that shakes you to your core. not in the good way that bakugou can do.

“only for the night,” comes your curt reply. “i am his date to this gala.” 

“fascinating.”

“what you find so interesting about that?”

“perhaps you’d rather i not say, but, to be truthful, my theory has been plaguing my mind all night.”

raising an eyebrow at him was his only indication that you wish for him to expand on his point.

he obliges. “well, you of course know about dynamite’s competitive spirit, and how he has been constantly battling deku in all realms of hero work? rankings, the amount of employees, even popularity.”

was mentioning midoriya necessary? their past history has never been the cleanest, and although you knew bakugou wished he could have a clean slate with the one for all user, sometimes their relationship brought a little awkwardness to conversations.

“i cannot help but assume that, in order to pass deku once again, he is using you to his advantage?”

you can’t help exposing your emotions through your microexpressions; something he catches onto. 

bakugou? using you? 

“right now deku is the hottest talk of the hero world with his latest partnership because of all the humanitarian advocacy he is partaking in. he’s gaining a lot of fans too. perhaps bakugou’s only way of upstaging midoriya is by using his well-liked status to the public a juicy scoop on his potential, new relationship, especially with one of japan’s favourite heroes. no doubt it will boost his name in the media, and give him a momentary push over the edge.”

you narrow your eyes at what his suggestion and although it pained you to admit, it had some credibility behind it. it even justified why bakugou has been acting weirdly attentive with you, and if you recalled properly, his sudden change in behaviour began around the news of midoriya’s initiative. 

but he’s not like that, right? your relationship can’t be reduced to simply article headlines and traction… right?

“that’s just my take as a specialist in the hero industry, specifically when it comes to brand and image,” the man ends, placing his hands on the table before standing up. “i hope the rest of the night treats you splendidly.”

when he waddles away, you’re left sitting at the same, empty tables. whilst the exterior may seem relaxed and collected, a whirlpool of thoughts erupt within, your thoughts jumbling and fumbling over one another.

without thinking, you end up at a table marked by todoroki’s agency logo, desperately searching for your dual-haired friend. in your haste, you didn’t preempt knocking into a body with hardened muscles and when you look up to see who was the glorified wall, you breathe a sigh of relief when it’s todoroki’s concerned face you see.

maybe fate was kind to you tonight.

“something wrong, y/n?” he asks in that caring tone of his.

“yes,” comes your quick and frantic reply. todoroki sees right through that frazzled expression of yours.

“is it bakugou?”

“yes- can we get out of here? i don’t care about propriety right now.”

“hold on, don’t get too ahead of yourself. the media will have a storm if they see us together after you’ve been accompanying dynamight the whole night.” 

“you’re right.” you’re could get a headache from simply imagining the repercussions you’re going to go through with your pr team if todoroki didn’t have his head on his shoulders. “do you have any solutions?”

“i could cause a fire and start an evacuation?”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“i was kidding. there is an authorised only back door escape near the bathrooms. i think it leads to the back of the building. does that sound better?”

“much. thank you, todoroki, i really appreciate it.”

“no problem. i’m looking forward to having a gossip ‘sesh’ about bakugou.”

you snort unceremoniously, amused by him and his deliberate choice of trendy language. if he was trying to cheer you up, it was working. 

following his instructions, you are more than relieved to see that the back door did indeed, lead to the back gardens of the site where gala was held. if you were correct, the parking lot for chauffeurs would be on the right side. 

minutes later, you find yourself ranting to todoroki, taking it from the whole beginning and recounting every, minute detail of the journey.

“-and then we kissed during our stealth mission which only made it worse because then i realised i was flipping in love with him!”

“only just then?” asks todoroki with a questioning look. 

“look, i had the hots for him in third year because of his growth spurt, i didn’t like him so don’t give me that look,” you justify, silencing him with a finger in his face. “anyways-”

“-is bakugou a good kisser?”

you press your lips together, unsure of how to answer without sounding ridiculous but really, your silence was the answer todoroki needed. he tilts his head to the side slightly, entertained by your sudden flustered behaviour before redirecting one hundred percent of his attention back your direction.

“find out yourself,” you finally quip. despite how delayed your comeback was, the half-and-half pro-hero still laughs. “so after that mission, bakugou’s been acting weird with me ever since. everything he’s been doing is just so unlike him. i find him staring at me from time to time and when i catch him, he doesn’t look away, just does that stupid, smug smirk of his! he’s been more handsy, and, this is the most confusing part.” 

“yesterday, i didn’t have an adequate outfit for tonight’s gala. i had something planned but it just wasn’t right and i was really down about it. well, bakugou walked in my office when i was trying it on-”

“-couldn’t you have done that at home?”

“shouto. come on. i was planning to go straight from work to the gala because the grind never stops, you know this. so i was trying it on and i was telling him that i didn’t like my outfit at all and then he kissed me on the back of my ear,” you explain, vividly using your hands to help your story. 

the way todoroki’s eyes widen a little makes you feel better that you have someone else also astounded by bakugou’s boldness. “he… kissed… your ear?”

“yes!”

“why your ear?”

“i don’t know, shouto!”

“but why did he kiss you?”

“i don’t know, shouto! that’s not something friends or coworkers do to one another.”

“right. i would never kiss your ear. or you.”

“i would never kiss you either, which confuses me so much as to why bakugou did that! and then he referred me to a personal stylist- who was amazing, i will absolutely be returning to her again- and when i showed up at the gala, he was just acting so… off!”

“like how he pulled you away from midoriya.”

“precisely! it got worse because when we arrived at the entrance, i was about to enter but then he stopped me by pulling my hand, which he then proceeded to kiss!” you exclaim animatedly, gesturing to the same hand. “then he asked me to be his date!”

“that’s odd. why not ask you in advance?”

“right?”

todoroki hums in contemplation for a second, furrowing his eyebrows as he thinks- a habit he has not rid of since u.a. “if i was going to be honest y/n, i was about to say my theory is that bakugou has a crush on you, but asking you to be his date tonight? it feels a little off to me.”

“why?”

“if he truly wanted you to accompany him to the gala, he would’ve asked beforehand. doing it tonight just feels a little… orchestrated, asking whilst you were all dressed up,” todoroki’s articulate words pierce you through the heart and you feel your chest deflate, understanding what he was saying. “i don’t want to assume anything of this because that is not in bakugou’s character, he’s never superficial about anything he does.”

you sigh, quietly muttering the next statement. “believe it or not you’re not the first person tonight telling me that bakugou has some ulterior motive with me.” 

your friend’s is taken aback, his hair jumping with his sudden movement. “who else?”

“some old, marketing guy from a support gear company that kept bothering bakugou at last year’s gala,” you huff, placing your chin on your hand as you fiddle with the bracelets adorning your wrist. “said something that really messed with my brain.”

“hm?”

now finding your nails a lot more interesting than your dual-quirk friend, you don’t think you can meet his eyes whilst repeating the embarrassing statement. 

“he said that since bakugou and midoriya have been rivals and competing against each other since they were young, bakugou was using me as a chance to one-up deku. especially because deku’s the hottest talk in the hero world right now because of that partnership. he thought that if i could stand and look pretty by bakugou’s side, it would boost his image and get him into the headlines,” you spit, sounding more aggressive with each word that leaves your mouth.

you want to punch a wall.

todoroki places a gentle hand on your shoulder, one that felt grounding and reassuring. kind.

“you’re more than just someone who can sit and look pretty,” he begins, “anyone who says otherwise is clearly stupid. you’re one of the top heroes in japan, simplifying your reputation to only benefit someone by being their date is offensive and incredibly ignorant.”

his assured words lifts your spirit a little, but there’s still that little bit of weight clasping at your ankles. “but what if bakugou doesn’t see it that way?” 

“then he’s an idiot.”

the laugh that escapes you makes your chest feel lighter; a remedy for the horrible emotions swirling in your gut. “you’re right. this is all just so frustrating,” you mutter into your palms. “i need to stop thinking about bakugou or i will obliterate him the next time i see him.”

todoroki huffs, entertained. “i don’t think you should hold any malice towards him. let the truth reveal itself, we’re both getting ahead of ourselves.”

“yeah,” you sigh before fishing for your phone. “please take photos of me, i look too good tonight to not post myself on instagram. i need a distraction from my wallowing.”

“as you wish.”

# FIVE ! - the kiss of confession. 

you did not take todoroki’s advice at all and instead, got ahead of yourself. the first day back to work since the gala, you began deliberately avoiding bakugou- as immature as that was.

it’s a task easier said than done because avoiding bakugou was really hard. like, really really hard. given that his office was literally right beside yours, it was hard to walk by his glass doors and pretend to not notice him in there, especially since he liked to weight lifts and walk around as he worked. you could probably draw bakugou’s build from heart with how many times you gawked at him as you passed by.

plus he’s the face of the wholeass agency, so. there’s that.

the only solution you fathomed was to pick up more patrols during work hours, leaving more often during the day to return exhausted and irritated at night whilst you dealt with office work. seeing your sour mood apparently was enough to turn bakugou- and everyone else, away. 

your assistant has booked you spa schedules for almost every weekend. multiple of them.

avoiding bakugou evolved from the root of two problems. the first one being the whole gala fiasco, the second one being that you genuinely don’t believe it’s good for your health if he kept acting as intimate as he had with you. however, the more you thought about it, you’re not even sure if he’d treat you the same way he did before the gala and you’re also not risking any chance of finding that out.

“you got another commission at downtown honei! join the cops in chasing down the assailant who claims to be ‘lava man’. police recommend to bring another hero,” a voice from your operator calls and you quickly reply with a ‘on it’. your first thought was ridiculing the villain name: ‘lava man’. wonder what his quirk was.

adjusting your hero gear as you walk out of your office, you run into the exact gorgeous face you’ve been avoiding. 

“y/n i need to- where are you going in such a hurry?” asks bakugou, scrunching his eyebrows upon noticing your haste. you continue walking past him and without thinking, he trails behind.

“commission. i’m going to get backup.”

“i can join-”

“-no, stay here. i’m calling kirishima on this one,” you say, sparing him a momentary glance to see a look of frustration appearing in his eyes. 

he looks like he’s bursting at the seams to say something, but the blond shoves all protests down and shouts out a ‘stay safe’ before you’re turning around the corner.

the commission is easy enough and you solved it before the clock could progress another hour. the hard part was that you kept receiving mission after mission, unable to catch a break to have some lunch or retreat to the agency when you had to keep reprimanding villains. seriously, why did they all unanimously pick today to be menaces to society?

your muscles were getting increasingly sore, your body was starting to feel the after effects of your quirk, and you were grumpy for how little time you got to rest. 

after reporting back your last commission for the day, you finally find some time to buy some food from your favourite ramen place. pathetically carrying the plastic bag all the way up to your office, you open the glass door with a grunt because of how much your body ached from one simple movement. you were going to be in even more pain tomorrow; maybe you should request a day off to see your physiotherapist. 

as you leant against the front of your desk to search for the contact of your trusted physiotherapist, you jump about 2 feet when the door to your office slams open, revealing a fuming bakugou.

blinking once, then twice in fear, you feel cornered.

“uh… can i help you?” comes your meek greeting.

“yeah you can fuckin’ help me!” he booms, crossing the floor to stand directly in front of you, face only a few inches away from yours. “mind telling me why you’ve been avoiding me ever since the gala? and why you didn’t respond to any of my texts since?”

you cringe at the mention of the texts. whilst you were complaining your heart out to todoroki, bakugou was asking where you went and why you didn’t tell him you were leaving. messed up move on your part, but it genuinely pained to even read his contact name, let alone send him a text to pretend like everything was okay.

now that he’s this close again, you realise just how much you’ve missed him.

your heart is doing laps again, and your arms suddenly itch with a desire to pull him close.

“don’t try to say something stupid like you haven’t been avoiding me, because you clearly have,” he scolds but the hurt in his eyes are very visible. it was time to just give him the truth, even if it still hurts you to think about.

with a sigh, you decide to surrender to your downfall through the form of a simple confession. 

“i like you.”

the tension in the room increases by tenfold. your lungs tighten from how suffocating his presence is, especially as he looms over you, allowing you no space to breathe.

then he does something incredibly unexpected: he kisses you. 

you feel your mind spinning and your heart picking up even more than you thought humanly possible. the way he curves himself around you is too much, the fire he ignites within your stomach, burning you from the inside out with his passion was too much, and the feeling of how desperately he was holding you against him was too much. he’s bleeding with love and need.

bakugou’s lips move against yours with a hint of urgency behind his actions, and you don’t have it in you to deny him. so, you fully give in to the unstoppable force of bakugou katsuki, allowing him to pick you up and seat you on your office desk.

somehow your hands end up tangled in his hair and his are roaming all over your body, unable to find purchase for even a millisecond as he commits learning you to memory.

you snap back to reality when a grunt of satisfaction slips past his mouth and into yours, causing you to abruptly jump back whilst simultaneously pushing him away. you miss his warmth already, grip steady on his shoulders to keep him away.

the look of hunger and yearning in bakugou’s eyes tells you that he’s not yet satisfied.

“hold on- stop- we need to discuss this-” you stammer before being cut off by the blond.

“-i have been waitin’ forever for this fucking moment. discussion over-”

“-no, bakugou-” you push his face away, even as he keeps inching forward, hands tugging your closer towards his toned body, “-katsuki.”

bakugou perks up at the mention of his given name, stopping his struggle completely. you only ever use it to capture his attention but he wishes that you would use it for more casual means rather than purposeful ones. it sounds so nice when you say it after all.

“i need a second to think,” you explain, rubbing your temples. 

“talk to me, pretty. i can only answer if you verbalise your thoughts.”

“so you genuinely like me? you’re not using me for, y’know, media rep and shit?”

the most flabbergasted, appalled, and astounded expression appears on bakugou’s face. he looks absolutely livid and you begin wondering why you ever assumed the things you did.

“the fuck?” comes his reply. “why the fuck would you think that? who the fuck made you think that?”

you feel small under his fiery gaze, unable to properly look him in the eye as you recount the conversation shared between you and the old, marketing representative of the support gear company. with each sentence bakugou’s scowl grows deeper.

one the story is over, you knew that you were in for a mouthful. in more ways than one. 

“that stinky, old geezer was why you were ignoring me? i thought i messed up or something, but this was because you actually listened to that extra? are you fuckin’ kidding me? i’ve been dyin’ because of you refused to even look at me and some asshole is the cause of that?” he asks. “i’m about to blow a bitch up-”

“-no, katsuki!”

would you look at that. he’s calm again.

“don’t do that. it’s my fault, i let him get to my head and suddenly some insecurities i didn’t even know i had started emerging. if it’s anyone that needs to apologise it’s me, i’m sorry for how i’ve been treating you after the gala, and for doubting you.”

“yeah you better be. don’t do this shit again,” the blond commands. “you really think that low of me that i’d use you to help my reputation?”

“i think it was moreso i thought really lowly of myself. to me, it didn’t make sense that you would ever be interested in me.” 

a beat passes. he flops himself against you again, letting you hold up majority of his weight. 

“you’re kiddin’, right? you’re a fuckin’ gem and i’ll kill anyone who won’t treat you like one because i just had the worst few days of my life from this bullshit,” he complains, burying himself into the juncture of your shoulder and your neck. 

the giggle of flattery escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you rub your hands soothingly along his spine before admitting a question that has plagued your mind ever since. “why’d you ask me to be your date at the gala and not beforehand?”

“i was nervous and chickened out every time i tried,” he confesses quietly, grumbling lowly into your skin. “when i saw you at the gala i swore i got a heart attack, and when that nerd almost swept you off your feet, i had to do something. i knew i’d lose you otherwise.”

“what, don’t want to lose to deku again?” you ask with a teasing tone. bakugou bites your skin. you yelp.

“watch your mouth.”

“you’ll be relieved to know that i don’t want anyone but you, katsuki.”

“ya sure?”

“i’ve been sure for a while.”

the blond laughs, murmuring a ‘you’re perfect. too good for me’ before connecting your lips again. you hum into him before muttering a ‘yeah i am’ against his mouth. it makes him smirk. 

when you part, you pat his shoulder as a sign of surrender. “i need to get to working on some files so if you don’t mind-”

as you try to shuffle off your table, bakugou stops you before your feet can even touch the ground. “are you kidding?” he challenges in an accusatory tone. “you’re not doing shit, you’ve been on commissions all day. have you even had a meal?”

“i just bought some ramen for myself,” you say whilst gesturing to the bag on your desk. 

he grumbles. “want me to warm it up?”

“no, it’s okay,” reaching around you to open the laptop sitting on your desk, bakugou’s quick to shut it close again.

“what part of ‘you’re not doing shit’ do you not understand? fuckin’ rest!”

life is a little surreal right now, especially with bakugou’s aggressively ambiguous way of nurturing people. then he grabs the noodles and rips opens the packaging, fishing for the chopsticks also provided before ripping that apart too. so shameless in everything he does, that’s a habit he’ll never lose, you suppose. 

you unknowingly smile when considering the prospect that bakugou’s shamelessness is something you have to deal with even more now.

a small cat fight erupts when you realise that the blond had full intentions of feeding you the ramen himself and your dignity refused to let him. he eventually coaxed you by saying he’ll take your commissions for the next three days and the soreness of your muscles found the deal a little too tempting. with a huff, you give in.

“ramen smells good,” he comments absentmindedly.

“it’s my favourite place. not too far away. we should go someday,” you say in between mouthfuls.

he scoffs in dismissal but the pink tint of his ears contrast his reluctant attitude. “it better not let me down.” 

you stop for a second, grabbing your phone and searching through your contacts again. “i need to book a session with my physiotherapist.” 

“why?”

“she gives the best massages and my body is so sore right now.”

“i think i can help with that.”

“really?”

“don’t underestimate me,” bakugou says, paired with a wink. you can’t help but assume there’s a not-so-innocent undertone to his intentions, especially with the way he smirks. “i could help you relax in more ways than one.”

goodness, were you in for a ride.

---

Please, my heart 🥹😭

bakugou has a tiktok account where he bakes or cooks but the only thing that’s shown are his hands— nobody knows that it’s him behind the screen.

he bakes or cooks late at night, when he comes home from missions and the sights that he’s seen keep him up for longer than he’d like. the hum of his whisk or his food processor provide him solace and escape from his blood stained thoughts. the scrape of bakugou’s knife against a perfectly cooked and crisp pork katsu soothes the night demons tormenting his soul with screams from the people he couldn’t save.

in his videos, katsuki always serves up two plates, two hearty portions and a lot of his viewers like to think that he does it for them— so that they have someone to eat with, to share a meal with late at night when they can’t sleep either. that’s true, for the most part. but more often than not, katsuki bakugou shares out another plate because he knows that you’ll wake up and join him so that he doesn’t have to be alone.

and if you watch his videos closely enough, you can see arms wrapping around him from behind— the glint of your silver wedding band firm against his mid section, letting katsuki know you’re here for him too.

---

Okay, I know that we must hate Agatha, she is the villain, she murdered Sparky... But I can't!

Agnes is such a great character, I absolutely love her and discovering that she is Agatha and hearing her theme song?! FUCKING INCREDIBLE

Well, I guess that makes one more villain to my list of "characters who I must hate but I don't"

---

Omg 😭😭😭😭😭😭 I to put Marc in a little jar and protect him from the evil of the world

do not chastise the dove (14) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: the king is exposed, the future is considered, and the past is revealed. 

word count: 4,582

warnings?: inaccurate depiction of legal proceedings, fluff, a little angsty, discussion of randall + wendy, discussion of did, pet name (dove)

Continuar lendo

---

Crying screaming throwing up 😭😭 KISS YOU FOOLS!

Would you be willing to do hide from the prompt list with Steve?

your wish is my command ♥ sorry, it's a bit angsty cause i'm feeling down today

[HIDE; Allowing the smaller friend to hide in the bigger friend’s jacket, arms closed around them and the smaller one’s face tucked close. ]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You lean against the wall, hugging yourself in hopes of warding off the cold. And God, it is cold. Your breath creates little white clouds, but the cold isn't as bothersome as the anxiety that's been squeezing your throat minutes ago.

"What are you doing here?" asks Steve, a step away from joining you. He rubs both hands together, seeking some kind of warmth. "It's freezing out here."

Steve is a good friend — the best. It's always been hard for you to talk, especially about your own feelings, and with Steve sometimes it feels like you don't even have to. He seems to be able to read your thoughts, to always know when to give you space, when to make sure you're not alone.

You hope that's not true, though. That he's not able to read your thoughts, that is. You don't want him to know a few in particular, the ones you have when you say something that makes him laugh, truly laugh, the kind that has him throwing his head back and making the most wonderful sound in the world. Or when Steve squeezes you into a hug and his scent seems to linger on you for the rest of the day. Or when…

Well, better stop there.

The sound of your name makes you turn your head to look at him. "Hmm?" you ask.

"Are you cold?"

You rub your own arms. Except for your hands, you're not feeling that cold, but it was definitely warmer inside the house. Too warm, somehow. Suffocating.

"I'm not taking your jacket," you say, already all too familiar with Steve's kindness and the way his ridiculously nice brain works. He gives so much to others that someone needs to remind him that he is also a person with needs like everyone else.

"But-"

"No."

Steve takes your hands between his and blows hot air into them. "You look like you're cold."

You're not — well, at least you don't feel like you are. It feels like you're burning hot right now, this close to him.

He doesn't let go of your hands. Instead, his fingers close around your wrists and he gently pulls you closer.

"Come here," he whispers, and you let him wrap your hands around his own waist, under his jacket, fluffy and warm and incredibly cozy. You enjoy the feeling of his chin resting on top of your head, of his hands rubbing your back slowly. "Better?" he asks.

You let your eyes close for a moment, hugging him a little tighter.

"You're my favorite person," you whisper against his chest, kind of hoping he won't hear.

Of course, he does.

"Oh, I think I'm going to need this in writing," Steve says, and you can pretty much hear the smile in his voice. "Just wait until I rub that in Eddie's face."

He feels your laughter in his chest, as if it were inside his heart. Maybe it is.

After a moment, he whispers against your hair, "You're my favorite person too."

---

I really hate this man

Just realized the reason that the sparrow academy is the way it was is because Reginald is so much of a dick that he definetly went out of his was to pick different kids, and only got Ben cause he didn’t know him yet.

I’m screaming.

Some time ago I did read La Belle Sauvage by Philip Pullman and I must say that Malcolm is such a lovely boy and his love for Lyra is absolutely heart melting.

Sincerely, Philip Pullman's creation has everything to be my favorite universe. I just can't wait to read the others books.

---

"What if i kissed you right now?" Please, do! AND HE DID.

That was amazing. When they kissed I really felt a little warm in my heart. Your writing is incredible!

what if? ✧˚ · .

summary: your best friend Steve makes sure you arrive home safe from a party but you ask him to stay. also, he walks in while you’re changing prompt

genre/warnings: best friends in love, fluff, a little of suggestiveness

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈

“You’re drunk” he declares, grabbing you from under your arm, passing it behind his shoulders and surrounding your waist with his free hand.

“Steve, for the love of god. I barely had two beers. You’re being dramatic” you protested and tried to get rid of his grip. As soon as he felt you move, he held you more firmly, pressing his fingers a little on your waist, exposed because your restlessness made your shirt roll up. You felt butterflies in your stomach and a pleasant warmth a little further down...

“Don’t be stubborn. Let me help you, I don’t care how many beers you had”

You sighed and let him guide you to your bedroom through the darkness of your living room. Even though he’s been at your place so many times, he forgets about the coffee table right next to your bedroom’s door. He trips with it and curses “Shit! Auch!”

A snort escapes your throat and you hide your face in his neck, still laughing. You weren't really drunk, your best friend was acting overly protective when he had had more beer than you, after all. But, anyways, the little alcohol you had consumed made you more mocking than usual. Steve always says that you annoy him with that silly mood you have when you’re not completely sober. Actually he loves it.

“Y/n! I hit my little finger. I’m in pain and you're making fun of me!” He complains, half-serious, half-joking.

“You’re such a baby boy. I can't breathe” you tried to say, but your laughter drowned out your words. Steve did listen the cute way you called him, and blushed while secretly enjoying how your hair tickled his skin.

Those kinds of moments made him want to stay like this forever. They increase his adoration for you but also make him a little sad, because he knows you have so many guys behind you and he thinks he doesn't stand a chance with you. He lives thinking that he has to settle with just being your friend, seeing you as the brightest but most distant star, when in reality you considered yourself his property without needing a title for your special bond, because you love everything that his being represents for you.

You’ve been standing there laughing like idiots right outside your room for a while longer than necessary, as if you’ve heard the best joke in the world instead of laughing over something stupid. But it was like that with Steve, even the dumbest and simplest moments became unparalleled memories. With him everything was so natural and pleasant without too much effort. With him, the small things weren’t small, injecting your heart with warm doses of happiness every time you see his beautiful smile crinkle the corners of his eyes.

Out of nowhere, when the laughter was fading into the silence of the empty apartment, you were surprised with the feeling of two hands grabbing the inside of your legs and suddenly Steve lifted you off the ground, carrying you with his arm securing you on your back .

"Let’s get you to rest, honey. It’s late"

You giggle and grab the edge of his shirt, giving you stability. The closeness burning your skin exquisitely and the smell of alcohol mixed with his perfume which you yourself had bought for him was making you dizzy in the most charming way possible. As if Steve was your own personalized drug, your biggest weakness and your greatest dream.

He finally opens the door, struggling with the bundle and then kicking it to get inside. He walks slowly and bends over to deposit you on your bed delicately, as if you were a fragile and very expensive porcelain doll or a shiny gemstone.

You immediately missed his warmth and scent and got up supporting yourself with your arms extended behind on the mattress at the same time that he sat sideways on the bed. You skirt slid up a bit, revealing more of your thigh. The detail did not go unnoticed neither for him nor for you, both looking down, your cheeks hot. You weren't wearing any shorts underneath and you weren't sure if from his angle he could see more than he should, but he cautiously reached for your leg and you tensed, not knowing what to expect. He realized you froze, and moved even slower, taking the edge of the skirt and adjusting it without leaving your shaking gaze.

His subtle gesture and how his eyes seemed to deepen your soul, stole your words and electrified your bones. That kind of gaze that threatened to get tattooed in the most hidden of your thoughts. You’re not usually nervous around him, because he’s your comfort zone and even though you feel attracted to him, everything’s always been so organic between the two of you. But now his fingers tracing slow circles on your thigh felt like dancing stars, and his hair falling on his forehead was torturing your willpower, which was conflicted between kissing him or ensuring that your friendship with him remained intact.

It had been a while since the last time you had so eagerly wanted to kiss him, but you were sure that this time everything was much more intense. Maybe the late hour, the tiredness and the beer were playing cupid all together.

“I’m gonna get changed” you told him, balancing your eyes between his touch and his face, low voice as if the atmosphere of intimacy could be broken.

He leaned back, lengthening the space between you against your will. "So I brought you to your bed with a bridal-style entrance so you just told me you were planning to change?" He claimed you with false offense. He cut the tension in the air, replacing it with the familiar silly energy that characterized you both.

You giggled looking down, to then glance at him again, your eyelashes doing that subtle maneuver that made him lose all of his confidence, melting at your feet.

"I'm sorry Romeo, but you know how much I hate sleeping in makeup. Anyway," you squeezed his cheek briefly as you stood up, "the entrance was memorable”.

Steve was grinning like a fool, playing with your sheets underneath him while he waited for you to come out of the bathroom. Different scenarios fluttered through his mind, your name being the protagonist in each of those tiny movies that were built in his imagination.

You’ve been friends for a long time but no matter how many people appeared, his heart belonged to you. He had had opportunity with multiple girls, one prettier and more charismatic than the previous one, but none of them made him feel a quarter of what you did.

None had a voice as sweet and intoxicating as yours, none jumped in his arms despite having seen him in the last 24 hours as you do, none cooked such good pancakes as yours. No one could be as perfect as you, and that screwed up his existence because he wanted you so much and did not dare to risk what you had.

The boy had been distracted, lost in himself, when you came out of the bathroom. But to his surprise, you weren't fully dressed. Pajama shorts showing the edges of your buttocks and nothing on top. Tits in the air.

"Hey!" you screamed unprepared as soon as you set a foot outside the bathroom, on the carpet of your room. Steve's eyes rested for a microscopic second on your breasts before you covered yourself with your hands.

"OH! OH! I'M HERE" Steve yelled in a high-pitched voice, moving quickly as if looking for something to do and finally covering his eyes like a small child. As if he had never seen a woman in his life. "I- er- I’m sorry. Didn’t see anything, I promise”. That’s a lie.

"Steve! I thought you had left! Everything was so quiet, I didn't hear anything"

"I- I was quiet, distracted. Sorry"

You melted with tenderness seeing him there, with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands timidly covering his face. He looked so vulnerable, embarrassed and... God, he was so cute.

"You can open your eyes now, idiot"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Right" he blinked a few times and raised his head, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably.

"Could you pass me that shirt?" you pointed to the chair at your desk. He got up immediately and went to grab it for you, handing it to you in silence. From there, he could see your reflection in the bathroom mirror, your bare back and your thick legs recently shaved for the party you just went to.

He didn't have the slightest knowledge in art history, but for some reason with the shape of your back and the softness it showed, it seemed to him that you had come out of a painting from the romanticism era, that deserved to be protected in a museum delighting with its spectacular appearance.

“Thank you. You can put this one on the chair. It’s too tight to sleep with it” you said softly, handing him the shirt that you picked at first.

It wasn’t long until you came out -now fully dressed-, and found Steve looking through your window, hair a little messy and his expression sleepy. He turned with his hands on his pockets and yawned as you climbed to your bed, adjusting pillows behind your head.

“I better be going. ‘S late” he mumbles.

“Stevie, you can spend the night here. I don’t mind. And I can make pancakes for breakfast” you launch the last words with a particular tone to sweeten him with your invitation. He grins and balances in his feet.

“You know, I’m kind of tired to sleep in your couch. I’ll rest better in my bed. Let’s leave it for later, ok?”

All the times you had slept in each other's house, you had slept apart, respecting a certain distance despite being such friends. There was enough trust, but the mutual attraction made sleeping together a tense idea.

You bit your tongue for one second and the next you straightened up. You couldn't get it out of your mind how his cheeks blushed when he barely looked at your breasts, or how warm that made you feel. You wanted to say something, because you didn't want him to leave. Your nerves tried to pull you back but an inner voice told you those nerves were not enough reason to stay stiff and not allow yourself what you wished. Then, you opened your mouth and before rethinking you spat:

“You can sleep with me”

You didn't realize how your words came out until his neck jerked in your direction, eyes wide and mouth set in a serious fine line.

You laughed awkwardly running your hands over your face "I mean, we can share the bed". You didn't know if that had sounded better or worse.

"Oh, no no. I understood you, don't worry" he cleared his throat.

God, why was everything so tense tonight? you thought. He swallowed so hard that you could see the movement of his Adan’s apple even when he was so far away from you. “I think I still have your green pants if you wanna use ’em”

He nodded. “Sure. I forgot you're a thief when it comes to my clothes” he said with a smirk, taking off his shirt.

Shit shit shit.

You’ve seen him so many times shirtless but this time was different, like it meant more. This burning wanting that’s been creasing up in you tonight was playing with your self control. He crawled into your bed after getting changed, comfortable and grabbing a glass of water for you, because he knows you like to have one on the table beside your bed if you get thirsty in the middle of the night.

The mattress sinking lower than normal beside you as he supported his weight and turned toward you on his side. "You'll have to share your blanket tonight" he teased you. You pulled the blanket over his face and he pulled it back with laughter.

"And you will have to control your sleep talking. You scare me"

Steve comes a little closer to you and wraps his arm around you, gently stroking from your shoulder to your wrist over and over again.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a moment, just enjoying the relaxation of his display of affection. You weren't even the type to love being touchy with people, but with Steve you adored physical contact. With him everything felt like a beautiful summer day, a field of flowers or a perfectly sweetened coffee in the morning.

"Do you want me to scratch your back?" As soon as you drop the offer, he grinned and hummed in response. He turned around to give you better access and you started gently scratching at his skin, using his dark moles scattered everywhere to unite them with your fingernails, forming imaginary constellations that you had previously memorized.

He sighed with pleasure, crazy with the incredible sensation and the patience with which you did it. He wouldn’t want to be in any other place than there, between your love, your sheets and the soft aroma of the vanilla candle that rested on your desk.

“Wanna play what if?” He suddenly says, raspy and distant voice due he was giving you his back.

“Ok” you agreed. That was like your personal game with him, the one you always played when you were bored or wanted to have interesting conversations. It never failed, and over time it has become your thing. Probably you would get offended if he played it with someone else. That would be betraying a deal that’s never been made.

He started the game. “What if…” he remained silent, thinking. “What if you had to choose between being a horse or a cow?”

You snorted at how absurd that first question was.

“What?” he was genuinely confused with your reaction.

“I was kind of expecting a deeper question” you explained, your cheeks hurting from laughing.

He made a noise of annoyance. “We’ll get there, honey. Don’t be such a complainer. Answer and that’s it"

"In a vegan world or...?"

"What the fuck, y/n" he laughed hard and his back moved under your hands.

"Just asking"

"In a non-vegan world or whatever. Don't think about it so much, cow or horse?"

You knew your answer, but you pretended to deliberate it for a few moments to create expectation.

"Horse. They have better hair and good legs"

He turned again until he was in the same position as before, facing each other, eyes barely visible in the dim light. He was so beautiful you couldn’t tolerate it.

"Okay. Your turn"

You timidly began to play with the hair on his chest. It was an impulse, something you wouldn't do if you were more aware of your actions and their repercussions. You noticed that he tensed a bit but he didn't push you away, he was just surprised at your decisive gesture.

“What if you found a way to become rich very quickly but it is completely illegal?”

“Ok, em- my question was kinda dumb compered to yours” he admits, gaze falling to your neck.

You smirk and put a hair strand behind your ear.

“Well,” he starts “considering that I’ve been in another dimension and I’ve fought with supernatural creatures, I don’t think getting caught by the police scares me anymore. I’d do it”

You hummed. “Fair. I accept your logic”

“Thanks, ma’am” he nodded.

It was his turn to ask, but he was quiet without continuing with the game. It wasn't that he was distracted or thinking about what to ask, as you thought had happened. In fact, he knew well what he could say next, but he also knew that it could permanently change the course not only of the dynamic but of everything he had considered safe in his entire life.

Steve took your hand that was still playing on his chest and laced his fingers between yours, gently but firmly, drawing little patterns on the back and taking a deep breath before saying:

"What if i kissed you right now?" his voice was no longer the confident one he used to show everyone. He sounded somewhat unstable, testing the ground.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Your heart was going to explode in your chest from how fast it was beating, so strong that surely he could hear it too.

His eyes went from penetrating yours to perch on your lips, half open temptingly calling him. You were so close. That close that you didn’t want to breath strongly, acting so carefully. “What would you do then?" he rumbled, words getting warmer and warmer as he leaned even closer, pressing you to his chest.

"I- I think..." you were shaking, but he was dying to have your answer and you were trying to please him "I- I think I’d kiss you back"

That was all Steve wanted to hear from you, a simple permission that would grant him the chance to cut the few inches that were separating you and finally relieve the tension that has built up for so long, but has felt specially more evident that precise night.

He brushed your lower lip with his thumb as a last warning before kissing you. You almost moaned against his mouth. It wasn't a rough kiss, but you could feel his desperation in the way he pressed you towards him. He needed the air you breathed. It belonged to him and after so much he has it in his possession, only for him to enjoy his divinity. Your divinity.

This was your first real kiss together, which was nothing compared to those silly pecks playing spin the bottle or doing any stupid dare.

That kiss was a long-awaited miracle, a shared secret, a collapse of emotions. As if the puzzle pieces of the entire universe fit together with the joining of your mouths.

You were both consumed with the sensation of your skins touching everywhere and your flavors mixing in a tuned dance of tongues.

You had wasted too much time believing you didn't reciprocate your feelings, when both craved for each other's attention hungrily. Neither of you had the slightest idea of ​​how many times you had thought about the other at the same time, imagining the situation in which you were involved in that exact moment.

After considerable seconds, you parted just long enough to recover, gasping for breath and not able to speak properly.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time" he stammered with a loving smile and pressed his forehead to yours.

That night you slept in the arms you’ve been wanting forever and woke up the next morning with the man you’ve been crushing on since you have memory, wishing it would always stay like that, so you never have to say goodbye to that pretty smile, that hair and that mischievous sparkle Steve Harrington, your best friend, had.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈

feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3

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---

Avoidance

summary: you’ve been friends with steve harrington since freshman year in highschool. and you’ve also been in love with him since then. but you realize he would never love you back, so you decide to put some distance between the two of you without explanation.

warnings: cursing, self esteem issues, attachment issues, abandonment issues, emotional angst to fluff !

A/N: ignore nancy in the gif 💔 this is not proofread cuz i’m tired and lazy. also it’s been quite awhile since i’ve written but i’m feeling extremely attached to steve still and also needed to get some of my own emotions out lol

word count: 3.3k exact :)

It was yet another sleepless night. Your brain too wrapped up in anxious thoughts to even let you think about closing your eyes for more than a few seconds. So you listen to the rain hitting your window and let the thoughts take over, deciding you needed to stop pushing them away. You weren’t sure how long you’d been staring at your ceiling for, but you were shaken out of your thoughts by the phone ringing. It’s one in the morning who the hell is calling? You thought as you went to answer the loud device.

“Hello?” You sounded drained.

“Couldn’t sleep either huh?” Steve sounded almost as drained.

“Nope. Why’d you call?” You hadn’t meant to sound so short but you’ve had quite a rough day at work and didn’t feel like talking. Usually Steve would make you feel better immediately but lately being around him, even hearing his voice, has just made your heart hurt.

“Figured if I was awake you probably would be too.”

“Okay… So why call? Just to test your theory?” You joked but there was hardly a joking tone present.

“I guess I just wanted to hear your voice. Helps me clear my thoughts sometimes,” he ignored your joke, “are you alright?”

“Yeah Steve. Just peachy.”

God why am i being so rude to him? He didn’t do anything?

“Was work bad today?” He knew better than to take your tone personally.

“Yeah. Nothing new though. Just being being assholes.” You didn’t feel like talking about how your day at the video store went. You’re pretty sure you even scared Robin with how irritated you were getting, considering Robin was silent half the shift and she always has something to say.

“I’m sorry princess. Anything specific-“

Princess… A name he initially used a joke, to call you dramatic or pretend like you were asking for so much as if you believed you were royalty, that he’s been using on a more regular basis lately. God you hate that name.

“Steve I’m really tired. I gotta go.” You felt bad for cutting him off but you couldn’t pretend to give a shit about work right now. Not when you knew that’s not what was really bothering you.

There was a beat of silence, Steve being surprised at you cutting him off and the tone you had, “okay. I hope you sleep well. I’m here if you need me.” He knew you weren’t sleeping soon.

“Yeah you too. Goodnight.”

When Steve hung up he couldn’t shake the awful feeling he had that he had done something wrong. Usually he doesn’t worry about that with you. You’re always so kind to him and reassuring, knowing he blames himself easily for really anything he can. But tonight just now, that was new. He hated it. He hated not being able to make you feel better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After falling asleep sometime around four in the morning, your alarm went off at six thirty for work. Needless to say you ended up flipping off your alarm clock and going back to bed. You woke up again to the phone ringing, but you decided to ignore it, completely forgetting why your alarm went off. About your shift at Family Video.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To say Steve was anxious when he arrived at work to see Keith instead of you, was a huge understatement. Not even because he hated working with him, but because you were weird last night and now you didn’t show up to work. You haven’t missed a day since you started there.

“Hey Keith. Where’s y/n?”

“Thought you would know Harrington. She decided not to show up today.”

“She didn’t say why?”

Keith laughed, “she didn’t even call.”

Steve’s anxiety only grew. He immediately went to the phone in the back, calling you. If rang for what felt like an eternity. No answer. He called again. Okay, he called a few more times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing. You looked to your clock, it was twelve pm. You reluctantly got up to answer.

“What?” You already knew it was Steve. He was the only one who would call that many times in a row.

“Y/n what the hell?” You could hear the panic and slight relief mixed with a hint of anger.

“Mind telling me what i’m being yelled at for?”

“Yelled at? I’m not-“ you heard him inhale, you knew he was pinching the bridge of his nose, “does your shift at work today ring a bell?” You couldn’t even tell which tone he had that time.

“Shit. Sorry. Slept in.”

“…That’s it? That’s all you got?”

“Jesus Steve I’m so sorry you had to work with Keith. I’ll get ready and head over there, calm do-“

“I don’t give a shit that I had to work with Keith, y/n. I thought- I was worried something happened.”

Shit. Now you were really being an asshole. You know how anxious he gets when someone isn’t where they’re supposed to be and don’t give a reason. Not after all the scary shit you’ve been through. He immediately assumes the worst. Even if it does seem slightly irrational, neither of you are sure what exactly is rational anymore.

“I’m sorry. Seriously I just went to bed so late and i stopped my alarm without thinking. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m really sorry.” You felt like crying. You know the panic he was feeling when he didn’t see you and when it took ten calls for you to answer. Steve could hear that through the phone.

“It’s okay. Sorry I got a bit too anxious over nothing. Take your time, yeah? I’ll be alright with Keith for a little longer.” His voice was much softer again.

“I get it Steve. Please don’t apologize, I think you’re allowed to feel that way after everything you’ve been through.” Steve felt himself relax a bit, your reassurance made him feel better after worrying all night about doing something that had pissed you off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrived at work thirty minutes later somehow. Steve smiled when he saw you and you tried to smile back but you knew it wasn’t very convincing.

“You’re lucky you’re good at knowing what movies customers would like. Otherwise you’d be kicked to the curb y/l/n.” Keith pointed at you, sounding surprisingly less angry than you’d expected.

“Sorry Keith. Won’t happen again I swear.”

“Better not.” He mumbled and walked through the back door to his car.

“Hey. Would you rather sort and restock or check out customers and rewind these?” Steve held up a handful of tapes.

“Doesn’t matter to me.” You shrugged. Steve knew you preferred to sit and rewind the tapes when you were tired and / or anxious. So he stood up and gestures towards the chair he was previously on.

“the rewinding is all your princess.” He did a funny bow and attempted to sound british. Though it was definitely Australian. It actually would’ve been really impressive if Australian is what he was going for.

“Do I get a koala too?” You smirked and it took Steve a second to realize the jab at his accent.

“Wow ok I see how it is I do something kind and you repay me with a snarky comment.” He put his hand over his heart and pretended to be offended. But his grin gave him away.

“Oh I’m sorry. Thank you Steve Harrington! My savior!” You put your hands together and pretended to fawn over him, laughing.

God Steve loved your smile and your laugh. He’d sell a kidney to see it 24/7.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Steve was away stocking the romance section, your thoughts came back. Your depressing mood resurfacing. You were trying to keep your distance a bit, but he kept pulling you back in with his warm smile and his stupid Harrington charm.

You joked every now and then for the rest of your shift, but Steve could tell your mood had changed again. You knew he knew by the look on his face. A weak smile that you knew was the same you were giving him.

“Try to get some better rest tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“No promises. And yeah.” You lied. You had already decided halfway through your shift that you wouldn’t come in to see him on your next days off, including tomorrow, like you usually did. You were going to make it four days without seeing him. You were going to try not to call him too, but you knew better than that. You knew he’d end up calling you. If not to talk then to check you’re alive.

You waved goodbye and drove home. Deciding to watch a comfort movie before falling asleep earlier than you thought you would. Probably from the lack of sleep from the previous night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve looked up every time the bell on the door rang, waiting to see you. The highlight of his day. Except every time he looked, it was never you. Robin noticed of course.

“Alright Steve. This is getting a little pathetic. Even for you.”

He gave her a confused look.

“I know you’re waiting for y/n to walk through the door. We have fifteen minutes till we’re closed. I don’t think she’s coming in today dingus.”

“She just- She usually comes in.”

“Steve you saw her yesterday. She’s probably busy. Maybe Eleven is making her build a fort with her again.”

Steve just shrugged and worked on rewinding the last few tapes. It was oddly a comforting thing for him to do when you weren’t there. It reminded him of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Steve got home he called you just like you thought he would.

“Hey Steve. Sorry I didn’t stop in today. I am alive and I’m fine. Just had a lot of shopping to do.”

“No it’s okay. You have a life outside of that store.”

It was silent. Neither of you having much to say. Then you spoke up, “You okay?” You could hear something off with Steve.

“Yeah. I just hope you’re okay. You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know Steve. I’m okay. Just in a bit of a rut I guess.”

“If you need anything just call. Please.”

You swear your heart cracked at the way his voice sounded. You know he hates not being able to help, “I will. Promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The third day you didn’t show up to say hi to Steve and Robin, Steve decided to not call. He decided to leave you alone, assuming you needed distance or something. Even Robin was confused and a bit worried. Mostly worried for Steve.

“Steve?” He jumped a little when Robin put her hand on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah? Sorry, was thinking.”

“I can see that. What’s going on?”

“Y/n’s been… weird. She’s been quiet. Which is normal for other people who are around her, but not for me. She’s always making so many jokes when we work together and she always comes in on her days off just to mess with me and pick a new movie to watch. She always calls too. To tell me about whatever movie she watched. But she’s basically been ignoring me. Did I do something? Please tell me if I did something stupid Rob.”

Robin felt her heart sink when he looked up at her searching for answers. He looked like a kicked puppy. She couldn’t find it in herself to tease him.

“She hasn’t said anything to me bud. I’m sorry. I can talk to her though if you-“

“No!” He cleared his throat, “no, it’s okay. I don’t want her to think we’re talking about her when she’s not here.”

“But we are-“

“You know what I mean. Just… Maybe see if she’s okay. But don’t bring me up.”

“I’ll drop by her place tonight then I’ll call you. I’m sure she’s just stressed or something.” She gave him a reassuring smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were surprised to hear a knock on your door at ten that night.

You opened the door to see Robin.

“Robin? What are you-“

She barged in.

“Okay just come on in then…” You mumbled confused.

“What’s wrong with you?” She didn’t sound angry, but she didn’t sound happy.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on. That shit doesn’t work on me. You know what I mean. Why are you avoiding Steve?”

“Avoiding Steve? I’m not-“

“Almost not showing up to work when you worked with him, making your phone conversations hours shorter than usual, not coming in to say hi,” she was listing evidence on her fingers.

“Okay, okay I get it.” You threw your hands up in surrender.

Robin raised an eyebrow waiting for your explanation.

“Look, you know I have feelings for him. I’ve just been… Thinking about it lately and how I need to move on.”

“Move on? Why?”

“He obviously doesn’t feel the same wa-“

You were cut off by Robin’s laughter.

“What is so funny to you?”

“You really think that dingus isn’t head over heels in love with you too?”

“Woah woah woah first off I never said I was-“

“Oh you don’t have to.”

“Can you please stop cutting me off?”

“Can you please stop being so oblivious? Steve has been sitting there for the past three days sitting there rewinding tapes and watching that front door line a goddamn hawk. He misses you y/n.” This was probably the softest you’ve ever heard Robin talk.

“I know he cares about me. I know we’re close. And I don’t wanna lose him. But I’m tired Robin. I’m tired of reading into every little thing he does and trying to make my feelings obvious to him when I know he doesn’t feel the same way!” You spoke softly at first, but then your voice betrayed you. Cracking at the end as you raised your voice unintentionally.

“I think you need to talk to him. Seriously.” Robin was still speaking softly but she was more stern this time.

“Fat chance.” You mumbled.

“Y/n, I love you, but if you hurt Steve I swear to god… He’s been through enough as it is and you of all people know that. Too many people have left him. I genuinely don’t know what would happen to him if you left him too. He trusts you more than anyone. More than me. More than any of the kids, even Dustin. Don’t fuck this up. Don’t fuck him up.”

And with that, she left. Left your house and left you to think.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On your fourth and final day off you were planning on how to talk to Steve when you worked with him tomorrow. Unfortunately you didn’t get too far when you heard an aggressive knock on your door. You opened it expecting to see Robin.

“Robin I get it I’m going to-“ You stopped as soon as you saw Steve. A very upset looking Steve.

“Y/n I didn’t wanna bother you but this is killing me. I can’t stand not being able to call you and rant about whatever Dustin or Robin did to piss me off that day. I can’t stand not listening to you rant about whatever movie you just watched. I can’t stand not being around you everyday. I don’t even know what I did and I’ve been trying so hard to figure it out but I can’t. I’m sure I did something really fucking stupid per usual, but please tell me what it was so I can fix it.”

“Stevie you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked so lost and confused. You gestures for him to come inside. Your parents weren’t home yet.

“Then what- What happened?”

“Fuck.” You muttered and Steve looked so anxious you just wanted to hug him and tell him everything is fine.

“Would you just trust me if I said it’s me and my brain and has nothing to do with anything you did?”

“Y/n that’s not a good enough reason and you know it. Why can’t you just talk to me-“

“I couldn’t stand being so close to you all the time knowing how strongly I’m in love with you okay! And knowing you don’t feel the same.” You didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. But there it was. And you couldn’t take it back.

“How would you know that i don’t feel the same?”

“Because why would you?” You laughed like he just offended you, “you could have any girl you want. Why on earth would you choose me?”

“Because you actually give a shit about me. You’ve been there for me when my so called friends weren’t. When my parents weren’t. Hell, you were there for me when Nancy wasn’t. You stuck with me even when I was a total asshole-“

“You were never an asshole Steve. Not to me. You know that.”

“And that’s what I love about you. You always see the good in people even when literally everyone else knows- thinks they’re an asshole.”

You couldn’t hold back the tears welling up at this point, “You know how much I hate everyone who made you feel like that right?” You weren’t even upset about exposing your feelings, you were upset over the fact that Steve still sees himself like that sometimes.

“I know. And if it weren’t for you I’d probably never forgive myself for how I was. But you showed me that I’m really not that guy. I’m not that “King Steve” everyone talked about in highschool. If you weren’t there for me throughout that time up until now, I’d still be such a mess.” He chuckled a little. You didn’t find it humorous however.

“Please don’t give me the credit for that. I just pointed out what you already knew was behind those walls. Fuck! I’m so sorry Steve. I know everything you’ve been through I know about all of the assholes who left you and here I am avoiding you for such selfish reasons!” You were fully crying at this point. How could you do what you hated so many others for doing?

Steve just quietly walked up to you and out your face in his hands, wiping the tears, “It’s okay y/n. I’m okay. I didn’t think you were abandoning me. I just thought I’d done something stupid to upset you.”

“I’m still sorry for making you anxious about it. For the record I don’t think you could ever upset me. at least not for more than ten minutes tops.” He laughed which made you smile.

“You know how much I look up to you yeah?”

“Y/n you don’t have to-“

“I know. But I need you to know. I mean I already blurted out that I love you, so I might as well keep going,” you paused to look into his beautiful dark eyes, making sure he absorbs your words, “you’re the most selfless person I know. You’ll do anything from letting someone rant to you for hours over something silly that upset them, throwing yourself into portals to hell. You pay such close attention to people you care about that you know every little tell-tale sign that somethings wrong. You know I get quiet when I’m anxious, you know what sings to play to help Max when she’s in a mood, I think you’re the only person Mike has ever gone to for advice. You’re so-“

Steve must’ve understood your point because suddenly he was cutting you off with a kiss that took you by surprise, but you quickly reciprocated.

“God I love you so much y/n.” He smiled against your lips.

“I love you so much too Steve.”

“Yeah you made that pretty clear.” He chuckled and you playfully slapped his arm.

---

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. 

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