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I just started with your blog and I absolutely love your haikyuu and mha fics... tho im not into genshin your diluc fluff fic was really cute and I would love to see more fluff from you. (bakugou's one of my favs and im looking forward to some fluff from him, tho im not pressuring you or anything) 😁🥰

THIS WAS SOOOOO SWEET AHHH!! Tysm I really appreciate it!! Bakugo is also one of my favs so you will see a lot of him on my page! If you have any particularly fluffy ideas don't be afraid to ask me! LOVE YA <3

THIS WAS AMAZING OMG OMG 

childhood bff oikawa who plays house with you T^T who proposes to you with a ringpop, who gifts you bouquets of daffodils and dandelions picked from the playground, who kisses your cheeks and pushes you on the swing and cradles your teddy bear as if were yours and his own baby <3

your mind is like a gold mind

still thinking about nanami taking his pretty, overworked wife on vacation and proceeding to overwork her pussy for the next 6 days

hey! if you’re a fanfic writer, please read and reblog this!

TAG the gender you’re writing for and the pronouns they use. TAG mentions of specific gendered genitalia and gendered pet names.

It sucks when I go to read nsfw x reader fanfic and find out that it’s written for women too late. It gives me major dysphoria. I can’t count the number of times I start a fic and find out that it’s for female readers in the middle of it. I don’t wanna experience my favorite characters misgendering me just like the people in real life do.

And even if no specific pronouns are used, having a female coded character that isn’t tagged does the same thing. I’m not a woman in touch with her feminine side that loves wearing dresses and cooking and having children. Having to experience those things in a post that isn’t specifically for a “female” reader or is labeled as “no pronouns used” is still going to give some of us afab trans people dysphoria.

It’s okay to only write for a female reader! It’s okay to not feel equipped to write for a trans reader! but please TAG the gender you’re writing for/the gender CODING in your fics.

bakugou, kirishima, midoriya x fem!reader

>> a/n: Here are some thoughts on how they would react to you dating again after breaking up because, why not. Haven’t written much in a while, life is getting hectic, but this just popped into my head and I had to share. Should I do another part with others?? Hope u enjoy!!

>> warnings: NSFW (minors do not interact), kitchen sex, slightly rough, a little dub con-ish, yandere themes, cursing, baby trapping, breeding, degradation, name calling

Bakugou:

At first, he would pretend to be indifferent, but honestly he’s seething

Pretty up front about his feelings on the matter

Someone tells him that they saw you out on a date while he’s on patrol and he gets so upset his supervisor sends him home in fear of anyone or anything getting into his crossfire

Does not allow you to go even two days before he approaches you about it, after stewing a little bit

He shows up at your apartment and bangs on the door, demanding that he just wants to talk

“Who the fuck is he? Tell me”

When you refuse he only gets more upset, cursing this invisible suitor

“I can’t fucking do this, Y/N”

Reminds you of how you’re his and only his, before caging you against the counter, making you look at him with his hand on your jaw, demanding

You can tell from the bags under his eyes he’s barely slept

but you’d never know from the strength of his arms manhandling you against his hard length, gripping your ass and lifting you into the counter

Fucks you so good with passionate, fiery eyes, hands desperate and roaming

“You’re mine, do you hear me? Forget about that extra”

Despite his possessive jealousy, he’s loving in his own way, hands grasped tightly on your hips as he barrels into you and tells you that he’d never let you slip away again

“I’m gonna fuck your tight little cunt until you can’t even remember his name, baby”

Kirishima:

As a general rule, Kirishima was considered an all around good guy

And sure he was, for the most part - except for when it came to keeping you

When he heard you had been on a date, he realized he could no longer play the long game to get you back

Instead of going to you, kiri goes to him first

Kiri tracks this person down like it’s his job

And towering, muscley pro-hero Kiri threatens this guys life, collar in hand, telling him to make up some excuse for not being able to continue dating you

Gets his boys to keep an eye on anyone you’re with so he can do the same to them as well

And when you call him up on a weekend night, sobbing and looking for a shoulder to cry on, Kiri is right there waiting to welcome you back with open arms

Brings you takeout and flowers after your call

He wipes your tears and cuddles you just right, reminding you that you really are such good friends

Little did you know he’s blocked all their numbers in your phone so they couldn’t call even if they wanted to

Wants to make you completely forget that anyone else exists and “Nobody knows your body like I do”

And fucks you just as sweetly on the living room couch, murmuring how good you two work together as he bullies his fat cock into you

He drags out the strokes, giving you time to contemplate how gentle and attentive he is

“Shhh I know, babygirl” he calls to you as you palm his strong shoulders and back that loom over you, desperate for release

Committed to making it the best sex you’ve ever had while he promises you that you’re the only person he’s ever loved and wanted

The only person he’s ever needed, and those guys didn’t feel that way did they? They didn’t even call back

After making you come for the second time, completely overstimulates you by eating you out as a final act of overindulgence on his part

Midoriya:

Kind, gentle midoriya is head over heels for you, even if you’ve been seen with another guy

Is he upset? Sure, and he tells you as much in the most heartbreaking way- “it’s so hard to see you with someone else, Y/N” but really he’s not that worried

Anytime it doesn’t work out with the guys you’re seeing, he waits for you to come scrambling back and into his arms

Because his strong arms around you and his thick cock fucking you just right can fix anything

Not to mention the hours he’d spend giving you head and making you finish on his tongue

But this time he’s got an even better idea - and he’s been salivating to put it into plan

When you come over the next time, crying for him to make you feel good, he makes sure to press your thighs against the bed and fill you to the brim

He just loves the idea of filling you up over and over again

He wants to be so deep that your insides shape to him, that when you walk out of this room you’ll still feel how good he made your body feel

You cry out at his control over your body, but he swallows your cries with kisses and mutters to himself how perfect you are, even if you are a filthy whore

Worships your body before, during, and after - the best foreplay and aftercare

Despite your wanderings, you’re his, and he was going to keep it like that, one way or another

“We’re gonna be together forever, baby” he says as he gives you another load, getting off on the idea of breeding you

Cups your face and looks into your eyes as he tells you how he’s going to pump you full and never let you leave him again

Finishes deep inside you and watches it drip out before pushing it back in with his fingers

Yall dont understand how much I love this series I JUST WANT THEM TO BE TOGETHERRR

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫  

part one | part two

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. now friends, you, eddie and junie take a trip to the city. queue oreos with double the cream, a sock related mishap, a display of strength, storybooks, matching pajamas, a velveteen rabbit and a tray of cupcakes to eat on the drive home [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, eddie’s mom implied to have passed away, mention of past falsely presumed self-harm (not graphic, just baby eddie scratching a rash and wayne worrying), hair tourniquet + intense panic

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie doesn't mean to come knocking. He's staring at the ceiling with an open tray of Oreos on his chest, chewing through the boredom of a Monday evening and the pain of an aching back when he thinks of you and Junie. 

Toddlers like cookies, right?

He shoves his socked feet into poorly laced converse and turns out all the lights as he leaves. The door slams shut behind him, a rattling of metal ringing into the crisp night while he takes his steps two at a time. 

He starts up the street to your trailer and slows as your home comes into view. The lights are on, the curtains open. You stand in the middle of the room with your eyes closed, stretching to one side with your arms held high above your head. He can see the moment your back pops, see the tension of the day slip away just slightly. The exposed stretch of your tummy shines in the light.

You say something to Junie. He decides to stop acting like a stalker and bumps up your steps, hesitating at the door with a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

What the fuck was he going to say? Hey, guys, I brought a half-eaten tray of cookies. Um. Because I missed you both? Sorry if that's weird? 

"What kind of loser…" he scathes. He doesn't finish, bringing his hand to the door and knocking with a haphazard explanation waiting on the tip of his tongue. 

You open the door a short few seconds later. You smile wide, wide enough to open the yawning gap in his chest all over again. Tonight when he goes home he'll have to close it like he has to so often lately after seeing you. Pretend his feelings for you – whatever they are – are smaller, less terrifying. 

"Eddie," you say, and the gap stretches with how you say it, fond and warm and breezy. "Hey, where's your jacket? It's too cold to walk over here without one." 

He doesn't have to explain himself at all, as it turns out. You open the door and step aside to let him past. 

He grins at you. "Thought I'd brave the great outdoors without any armour." 

You nod like it isn't all nonsense to you and maybe it isn't, maybe being friends with him is clueing you in to all his fantastical lingo. He likes you more for it either way, especially when you say, "You need a healing potion. It's freezing."  

You're embarrassed at your attempt. Eddie can't believe how cute you are, lost for words and flailing. His chest warms with affection.

Junie saves you both, whizzing down out of the nest of pillows where she'd been buried on the couch and across the room with surprising speed and accuracy, barrelling for his knees. He grins as she wraps herself around them and starts talking. 

It's mostly unintelligible until she says, "Hi! Hi, Eddie!" 

He hugs her back with his hand. "Hi, Junie. Good evening." 

"Good," she manages in return. She's all but mastered good morning and afternoon but evening continues to elude her. 

"What were you watching? Your Muppet Babies?" He looks at the screen to find Kermit, the green frog, singing a song. "Been doing some singing practice for the band?" 

"You want coffee?" you ask. Aforementioned healing potion. "I have decaf." 

"I brought cookies." 

"Warm milk it is," you declare, disappearing behind one of the kitchen cabinets. 

Your bravado makes him laugh. 

He finds his attention stolen once again by your lovely daughter when she complains, glaring up at him fiercely and coveting his hand. He balances the Oreos on your table by the door and offers her both, naked of their usual rings bar one. 

Junie drags him over to her pillows and tries to climb back up. She refuses to let go of his hand, making it an insurmountable feat. Eddie awes at her efforts and helps her back into the nest, hands closing around her small waist and lifting. 

He drops her into the pillows with just enough roughness to garner a laugh. "Sorry, my hands slipped. Hey, what's going on here, junebug? This isn't your usual hangout." 

"I felt bad because she's always on the floor," you call from the kitchen. He can see your hands and your torso through the gap of countertop and cabinets. You pour milk into a pan on the stovetop and tap your fingers against the handle frenetically. He wonders if you're anxious about something. 

Junie whines until Eddie sits next to her. As soon as he's situated she takes his hand again insistently and turns her attention to the television. He rubs the soft, small back of her hand with a less soft thumb and peers down the way at you. 

"She loves the floor,” he says.

"I know," you mumble ruefully. A tad theatric. He must be rubbing off on you. "I had to bribe her into sitting on the couch." 

"Yeah? What's the tab?" 

"A few dozen kisses and all the pillows from my bed." 

"Shame it wasn't half a tray of cookies." 

"I think those might help me out." 

After you've poured the milk into two tall glasses, you admit to him in a smaller voice that you're not sure if Junie likes Oreos. 

"'Cos they're bitter?" he asks. 

Milk in hand, you sit in the free seat next to Eddie and try not to sound as embarrassed as he knows you're feeling when you say, "She's never had them." 

"I'll bring chocolate chip next time." 

You shake your head vehemently. "You don't have to bring anything, ever." 

"I like sugar." 

You smile at him like you know he's trying to make you feel better, a touch shame-faced. He smiles at you in return and hopes it shows how much it doesn't matter – bringing snacks with him when he visits is hardly a generosity. You're friends. 

He keeps trying to have that conversation with you, about sharing and money and all that terrible, embarrassing hardship that isn't embarrassing whatsoever but the words taste like chalk in his mouth.

Instead, he offers the hand that hasn't been stolen by Junie to you for a glass of milk. "One of those for me?" 

You pass it to him. 

"Why'd you feel bad? You're not forcing her," he says as he takes a sip. 

"You don't think it looks cruel?" 

"No way. She's one of the happiest babies I've ever met, who cares if she lies on the floor?" 

"How many babies do you know?" 

"One." 

You're laughing when you say, "I don't know. I think it's a habit. But we have a couch, so she should sit on it." 

Eddie retrieves the Oreos. Junie watches curiously as he peels open the tray, four rows, two empty and two full of black and white cookies. 

He takes one and passes it to you without looking at you. Eye contact gives you the opportunity to reject it. 

When he's heard the soft crunch of your first bite, glass of milk between his knees, Eddie holds an oreo up purposefully and twists. "See, Junie?"

He licks a big stripe over the vanilla cream. The cream spreads edge to edge as he pushes both sides back together. Softened by a generous dip in milk, he eats the cookie in one vagabond bite. 

"You wanna try?" he asks when he's done. 

Big hands over her small ones, Eddie shows her how to twist an Oreo open. She brings the cookie with the least of the cream to her mouth and bites it. Her pout wobbles in mild disgust. Eddie tries not to laugh. 

She has to like Oreos. They're a staple. 

"Let me show you," he says gently, taking the cream heavy side out of her hands. Dark crumbs stain his fingers as he holds it up to her face. "You gotta lick it." 

She doesn't want to, evidenced by her wrinkled nose and untrusting gaze. 

"You'll have to do it for her," he tells you gravely. 

Moving to kneel in front of him, you take the oreo out of his hands and lick it before stealing back the half of the cookie Junie had been munching on and squishing them back together. You dunk her sandwich in milk and press it to her lips until she deigns to take a small bite. 

"Yummy?" you ask.

She takes the cookie back, a mess of dark black mush collecting at the corners of her mouth as she eats it.

You gaze up at him from the floor. Your eyes look damn pretty, more so when he offers the tray to you, your smile a beacon. "I haven't had Oreos since I was a kid," you say excitedly.

"Do they taste like you remember?" 

You rest your hand on his knee and lean in. "They need more of the filling," you say secretively. 

"Yeah?" Eddie's in motion, twisting one oreo apart and then another. He takes the halves with the most cream and pushes them together. 

One oreo, twice the cream.

You giggle as he passes it to you. "Oh my god." You're giddy, arm heavy on his thigh. 

You eat it like it's something crazy expensive, all smiley and indulgent. You look so pleased that he immediately starts to make you another. 

"Eddie," you protest, covering your mouth, "don't, don't waste them." 

"I won’t waste them. I like the cookie more than the cream,” he lies. 

"Oh." 

You finish your oreo. Eddie can’t find it in himself to be modest about it; you’re smiling and it’s his doing and that fills him with pleasure. 

He watches you mistreat his jeans as you chew the second, your fingers pulling distractedly at the rips. You tuck your hand underneath, white threads tensing over your knuckles and fingerprints brushing over his kneecap, your entire face cringing as a thread snaps from the pressure. 

Eddie looks away quickly. He can feel your eyes on him and has to bite back a smile as you assess if you’ve been caught. 

You could ruin them completely for all he cares. 

Junie makes happy noises beside him. She’s realised the middle of the Oreo is the sweetest and has split one open in her hands. A terrible mess ensues, cocoa powder fingerprints smattered over the pillows she’s buried in and vanilla cream marring her nose in a sticky line.

“Could you make any more of a mess for your poor mom?” he asks. The rhetoric is lost on her; she says something cheerful and holds her hand out for another cookie. 

Her face — expectant, small, cute, all of it evokes an uncontrollable urge to do whatever it is she wants him to do. 

“Is that, like, a kid thing?” he asks. 

You pull your fingertips away from his skin and cock your head. “What?”

He splits an oreo and offers Junie the cream-heavy half, clarifying through a mouthful of dark cookie, “Following her every command.”

You sit at full height. He instantly misses the heat of your front to his knees, the way you’d draped yourself over him familiarly, and is wondering how he might begin to convince you to do so again as you think it over. 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It might just be a Junie thing, but I guess that’s immature to think. S’pose it’s hormones or something. Like when cats meow.”

He giggles at you. Hormones? Cats?

“What?” you ask, half defensive, half sheepish. 

“I just- I love it when you talk like that.”

“Like what?” 

He shrugs and takes another pull of milk to think of a way to say, Well, when you’re tired you get nonsensical, and it’s charming how confident you are but hard to follow without offending you. Is there a way to say that without offending you? Or worse, without revealing every wretched feeling he has for you?

“I sounded pretty stupid,” you summarise. 

“No! Never. I love that you think like that. That you’d think about cats meowing.”

“They do it to manipulate us,” you explain. 

He can almost see the heat of an embarrassed flush radiating off of your cheeks, the press of your lips so endearing he almost leans forward to feel it. He can imagine it, his thumb over your mouth, the pad pulling down your bottom lip. 

There’s an arrogance in thinking you’d let him. 

“Jungle cats, tigers and lions and stuff, they don’t meow,” and you’re still going! He has to cover his mouth with his hand to stop from bursting. “Because they don’t need to. They have no idea what a baby sounds like, and they don’t need us to take care of them so they’ve never learned how to meow. Babies are like that. We hear them crying and we want it to stop.” You have a smile on your face that says, I don’t know if what I’m saying is true, but I’m gonna pretend it is. Pretend with me?

Eddie’s all about pretending. “Cats are master manipulators,” he eggs you on, "but you realise not everyone wants babies to stop the way you do? Some people just don’t like babies.” 

“That’s okay. More babies for me.” You lean out to tap his forehead. “Touch wood.”

“What?” he asks. 

“Touch wood,” you repeat. “I don’t actually want more babies right now, don’t wanna jinx myself by saying it, so I had to touch wood. You don’t have that superstition?”

“Are you saying my head is made of wood?” 

Your sudden laugh is stunning; he can’t bring himself to be offended. 

When Junie's had more Oreos than she should've and the milk's all gone Eddie stands up before you can do it yourself and takes the empty glasses with him, putting them on the kitchen counter with a click. 

He grabs an almost empty pack of wet wipes off of the top of the refrigerator and sits down next to Junie, talking fast in hopes of distracting her.

"I got a call last night," he begins, pulling a wet wipe from the pack and taking Junie's wrist into his hand. He doesn't use the wipe at first, tryimg to convince her that this is all affection. "The phone went ring ring," he rolls the sound around, "and I was thinking, who the heck is calling me so late?" 

He plays up his outrage but keeps a huge smile in place as he works his thumb into Junie's palm, tickling in circles. 

"So I answer the phone, and I say, who is this? And you know who it is?" 

Junie waits, looking like she might be close to laughing. And he's just getting started. 

Eddie takes a deep breath. "Hi-ho, Kermit the Frog here! Is this Junie on the other end?" 

What his impression lacks in accuracy it makes up in enthusiasm. 

Her little mouth opens. He wipes the corners with the wet wipe and then her chin. "So I said, no, Mr. Frog, I'm Junie's neighbour. I'm Eddie.

"Kermit said, you can call me Kermit, thank you very much. Mr. Frog was my father." 

You snort beside him. He tries not to look at you because he knows your happy face will stop him in his tracks, your laughter enough to make him smile and break character.

He squares his expression and begins again. "I need to talk to Juniper, it's very important." He wipes down her sticky hands, her stained fingers and palms, worse than smug when she doesn't complain and pull them away. "I said, I'm sorry Mr. Kermit but I can't put her on, she's all safe and snug in bed with her mom. And Kermit said, oh, okay. Well, please tell Junie this." 

Junie's looking up at him, surprised, very pleased, practically wiggling in her seat. She's lovely. Just like her mom. 

He doesn't want to do the voice for this part, struck with a sudden sense of awe. "She is… the smartest, most prettiest, loving little girl in the whole world." 

Eddie beams at her and drops her damp hands. When he impersonates Kermit this time, he's trying as hard as he can. "I'd only like her more if she were green!" 

-

You're clinging to sanity. 

It's Wednesday, it's washing day, and you haven't managed a single load of clothes since you got home because Junie won't stop crying. This isn't new; babies cry constantly and toddlers aren't much different. But, it's been three hours. She's too old for colic. 

Junie has screamed, she's sobbed, she's slapped her tiny hands into your chest. You know she doesn't mean to hurt you, she's just communicating her panic. That doesn't stop the growing distress. 

You're terrified. 

You've found yourself in tears, too. 

"Just tell me, baby," you plead. 

It's useless. She screams so loud her voice cracks, and you decide that nows the time. You have to go to the hospital. 

You don't think you can let her go long enough to strap her into her car seat. Immediately, you think of Eddie. You don't even lock the door. The small walk to his house feels a block long.

He must hear her crying as you approach because the door swings open just as you mount the first step. You backtrack. 

"I'm really sorry," you say quickly, knowing this isn't something he ever signed up for. "I don't know what to do, she won't stop and I think there's something wrong." Your voice wobbles.

There's a huge flash of something akin to the panic you're feeling over his face but he pushes it away, descending the steps two at a time. His hand immediately comes up to your shoulder, fingers curled into your shirt. 

"Chill out," he says, more stern than you've ever heard him. It’s surreal to see him turn like that. Almost like he’s become one of his characters, the voices he does for Junie’s story books. 

You take a ragged breath. 

"I'm serious. You need to calm down. You understand?" 

Junie gives a blistering shout and your face crumples. "Eddie," you say. 

"Can I hold her?" he asks, softer. 

You can see in his face that he isn't sure, that he's out of his depth, but you're so desperate for a life raft that you nod and squeeze your eyes closed, passing her into his waiting arms. Everytime she cries – every wicked intake of air and every subsequent bellowing sob makes your chest ache. You have a splitting headache. Honestly, you're worried you might fall over. 

"How long has she been crying?" he asks, looking over her face and shoulders with a perplexed frown. 

"Hours. At first I thought she was tired or- or hungry but I've tried everything, Eddie, everything." 

"She was like this when you picked her up?" 

You nod. 

He pats her back, the other hand rubbing down one of her legs soothingly. "Did she hurt herself?" He's looking at you without an ounce of judgement.

"Not- not that I know of." You'd looked under her shirt and trousers already. She doesn't have a single bruise. 

He starts to walk back towards your home. You don't follow at first and he reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you along as he says, "Come on, sweetheart. We'll go down to Hawkins general, yeah? Just to be safe." 

"Yeah." 

Junie screams. "It's okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, again and again and again. He doesn't hesitate, his voice velveteen. 

His hand stays on your arm until you're by the car. He's never done a car seat before and you can tell: he tucks her into it with infinite care but can't work out how to do the buckles. You laugh wetly and then feel very guilty. wiping your face with one hand before ducking down to do them yourself. Junie glares at you as you do, still very much crying and now incensed at being strapped in. 

You stand back to take her in and push your thumbs across her wet cheeks and under her snotty nose uselessly, feeling so sorry for her, so guilty. Why can't you work out what's wrong? Why can't you fix it? 

Eddie stands by your side, waiting.

“You got it,” he encourages as you pull back. "You're okay."

You smile weakly and then narrow your eyes, the two of you seeing it at the same time – Junie reaching desperately for her sock. 

You peel it off with shaking hands and feel another hot shock of tears. There, around one of her toes, is a tourniquet. The skin is swollen but looks unbroken, darkened by blood 

You smile because Oh my god, this is what's wrong, and then you panic twice as much as you had before, because Oh my god, her tiny toe. 

"Eddie, I need- I need something. I need a- a nail scissors or-" You drag your hands down your face, in the thick of it. Adrenaline or cortisol or something must race through your veins, your hands shaking with it.

Eddie pulls you back by the hem of your shirt. "We can't cut it away. You'll never get the blade under that- What is that? A hair?" 

"Yeah. A hair." 

A lightbulb moment. You brush past him and almost fall up the steps back into your trailer. 

"Stay there," you say without any explanation. 

You step over the mess you'd left behind and barrel into the bathroom, clipping your shoulder on the bathroom door and slamming onto your knees. 

You're lucky you have it, a tiny pot of hair removal cream in an old makeup bag under the sink. Resisting the urge to kiss the lid, you rush back out to the car where Eddie holds one of Junie's hands in his. He looks an impossible mixture of worried and relieved when you reappear. 

You elbow digs into his chest as you lean over, opening the cream and smearing a line over Junie's swollen toe. She whimpers and shouts and tries desperately to get out of the carseat and, to your devastation, away from you.

"What is that?" Eddie asks from behind you.

"A hair remover." 

You wipe the delapitor clumsily into your only good jeans so you can take both of Junie's arms into your hands. She doesn't want to be touched but you need to be holding her, at least a little bit. 

"How long does it take?"

"I'm not sure… Not long. If it doesn't work we'll still have to go to the hospital." 

Eddie pushes his hands into the top of your back in answer, his fingers curling either side of your neck like he might give you a massage. You shudder as he pulls you against him, as his fingers trace an invisible pattern.

Junie looks up at you both. Her wounded expression loosens. Maybe she's realised that you've figured out her problem, maybe she's just glad to be looked at. Either way, she subdues. 

The hair removal cream's acrid smell tickles your stuffed up nose. You sniffle and Eddie's fingers work into your neck lightly, a silent and unwavering It's okay.

You don't see the hair snap so much as you see the pressure wean. You smother a sob, your relief palpable as you pull your shirt sleeve down to cover your hand and wipe it away. Junie shrieks. 

You take the hair between your nails and pull.

"Oh my god," you say, holding it up between you. 

Everything feels a little bit hazy after that. Eddie rubs your shoulders placatingly before encouraging you away from the door so he can unclip Junie and pull her out of her car seat. He guides you away from the car and back into your trailer, over the mess and into the kitchen. 

You sit heavily in a battered kitchen chair. Eddie stands in front of you, Junie on his hip and a frown warping his pretty features. She grizzles, less when he sets her down in your lap carefully. 

"Is that okay?" he asks softly. Then, when you nod, "Are you okay? You look like you're gonna pass out." 

"I don't feel well." 

"No, I bet you don't. Take it easy."  

You pull Junie's leg up to examine her foot. Her toes are covered in hair remover still. "Could you get me the baby wipes, please?" 

"Sure can. It'll cost you, though." His joke falls a little flat. You try to smile anyhow, your little huff forcing a last tear. You blink until it's gone, aggravated with yourself. 

After all, her toe looks better. Sore, still swollen, but better. Though you could just be seeing what you want to see. 

Eddie tries to pass you the baby wipes but your hands are shaking too badly to take them. Without a word he opens the pack, kneeling on the floor in front of you to wipe down her foot tenderly. His eyebrows pinch together when she whimpers, and he murmurs a sorry, "I know, I know." 

You're trying very hard to calm down.

"All done," he tells her, parentese in play. "You are so brave, junebug. You're the bravest little girl I've ever met. That's why me and your mom decided you were Juniper the Brave, and you proved us both right." 

He taps the tip of a ring-heavy finger under her chin. You watch from over her shoulder. "Really brave. You did a good job, the best job ever," he praises, tilting his head to catch your eye as he says it. 

You smile at him the best that you can. He holds your gaze for a weighted second and then drops it back to Junie. "Do you feel better?" he asks.

She doesn't answer, only tips her head against your chest. 

Eddie pulls off her remaining sock and waves it at her. "Don't need this." 

"Do you think she'll throw up if I make her some dinner?" you ask, the kind of question you don't usually get to ask someone else. A luxury to defer judgement.

"Maybe. Does it matter?" 

"I don't want to clean up puke," you say pathetically. 

Eddie softens. "I'll clean it up if she pukes. Don't worry about it." 

You don't have to, you want to say. Of course he doesn't have to. 

"Thank you," you say instead, feeling like you could burst into an entirely fresh wave of tears. 

Again, he looks up at you. His smile fades from a cheesy exuberance to something sweeter, a melty-warm thing that has your breath catching. 

"I'm really sorry for just showing up like that," you say tentatively, flushed with heat as you realise what you've done.  

"Don't be." 

"No, because she's- I know you never-" She's mine alone. You never signed up for this. You can't make yourself say it, distracted by his ever-growing smile. "I should've handled it on my own." 

"Your mom really doesn't understand how much I like her," he tells Junie humorously, wiggling his eyebrows at her. "She doesn't have a clue. How much I like you," he adds, hand on your thigh, his finger stroking a line down the length of her leg.

"You didn't have to-" You try, stopping again as he huffs out of the side of his mouth. 

His hand closes around your thigh. You can feel the heat of each of his fingers, the bulk of every heavy ring. 

"It's okay. I promise," he says seriously.

"I got so freaked out, I just…"  You give up. Whatever. He knows what you're trying to say. Hopefully.

Eddie leans forward to kiss your knee. His eyes close, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly over your thigh. 

You blink to yourself in a vain attempt at processing what's just happened when he asks, "Do you still feel sick?"

"No.” Your chest burns.

"In that case, I'll make dinner. A feast." 

Things start to feel better. Details sink in. Your heart slows. What was only Eddie behind the stovetop becomes his dark hair scraped up and wrapped in a hair tie, his sweatpants and unlaced shoes, his white t-shirt with sharpie writing all over. Sounds filter in; the spoon scraping the bottom of the saucepan and his frenetic humming, the sound of his rubber-bottomed cons squeaking over linoleum. 

Junie doesn't cry so much as whine. You press kisses that are more for you than her into her hair and on her forehead, jogging your knee. She's fine. She's okay, and she's here in your lap, and there's nothing to panic over now. 

You try to push away the lingering worry. In the moment, a million thoughts had coalesced into only one. What if she's dying? Meningitis, an aneurysm, cancer. Anything. And now those thoughts fall away, leaving behind only the sharp smell of the hair remover and the salty stick of tears. 

"Do you think I have time to give her a shower before dinner?" you ask softly, clearing your throat for what feels like the twentieth time today. 

"You got it. I'll simmer. You could have one, too, if you want." 

"Do I look that bad?" 

"Worse." He grins at your expression. "I'm kidding. You look beautiful as always, sweetheart."

You carry Junie into the bathroom. There's no tub and she's too big for the kitchen sink, so a shower it is. You stand her up under warm spray and turn her back so the spray misses her eyes. She smiles at the warm water running down her back. The relief to see her happy can't be understated. You hop in at the same time and clean her off, wash her hair, and bedeck her tiny features in big big kisses.

Wrapped in her baby towel – a pink poncho type thing with a hood – you walk her to the bedroom and dry her off as fast as you can. 

"Which ones?" you ask, holding up two pairs of pajamas. 

Junie points at the pink shirt and bottoms printed in bright red strawberries with light green tops, letting you dress her and plonk her at the end of the bed without any fuss. 

"No socks for you," you say lightly, sitting beside her in your towel. 

"No socks," she agrees. 

Even though Eddie's been good to you, you can't help wishing that he wasn't here. What you want more than anything in that second is for Junie to be asleep and for your head to be wedged firmly under your pillow, the sheets to your shoulders, dead to the world. 

Not truly dead, of course. But a minute of silence. 

Junie doesn't seem to know what to do with herself, sitting in companionable silence and stillness with you. Her head falls onto your arm. 

"Are you tired?" you ask quietly, too exhausted for bubbly talk. 

She sighs. You sigh too. 

Eddie hums from the kitchen. 

He kissed my knee.

You think you might have imagined it, if you're honest. It could've been anything against your stockings, the brush off his palm or the back of a warm knuckle, but you'd seen it. His lips, his face turned toward your thigh.

"I think he likes me," you tell Junie. 

She doesn't say anything. When you look down at her she's already looking up, eyes wide with confusion. 

"He kissed me," you whisper, leaning down. "I don't know about you, junebug, but I only kiss the people I care about. For a long time, that's been a really short list." You bump your nose against hers. 

You've just finished getting into your own pajamas when Eddie calls out, "Girls? I know ladies like yourselves need longer to get ready but the mac and cheese is acting weird." 

"Weird?" you mumble, hooking your hands under Junie's armpits. You'd let her walk if you weren't worried for her foot. 

Eddie has created a working man's feast, three identical plates heaping with food. Hills of mac and cheese topped with bacon bits take up half of each plate, fried broccoli and collard greens the other. They're golden, almost red with spices. 

"You can cook," you say, surprised. 

"Don't sound so shocked," he says defensively. He can only hold his facade for a moment, deflating. "I really can’t. I tried to copy what you do, I've seen it enough times…" He shrugs and flops down into his usual chair. "Don't tell me if it's gross." 

"I doubt it's gross." 

You can't be bothered for the high chair. Junie looks like she might be too tired to move so you take the chance and sit her between you and Eddie behind the smaller portion (though using small at all feels like a lie, he's made a lot of food). She can barely see over the table.

"Did you use two boxes?" you ask, picking up Junie's spoon. 

It's all the perfect temperature for a baby, maybe a little cold for an adult. You're so happy to have somebody else cook for you that you'd die before you complained. 

He taps his nose. You pass Junie her spoon.

"What do you mean?" You tap your own nose in imitation. "I'll know when I look." 

"So don't look. Eat." 

You eat. Without asking him too – because you wouldn’t, you never do – he starts to feed Junie.

He might be the nicest boy on this whole damn planet. You look at him thoughtfully. How come we always end up here? At the kitchen table?

He looks right. Too right. He looks like he’s meant to be here, smiling and talking to your baby in hushed, fond tones, airplaning roasted broccoli towards her mouth. 

-

“You’ll stay to watch a movie?” you ask later, trying to hide how lethargic you are with your hands deep in dishwater. 

Eddie wipes a fleck of water off of your cheek with a rag. "Duh." 

On the couch, Eddie sneaks a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You’re pretending to watch the TV and doing a bad job, your attention stolen over and over by Junie where she sleeps in your lap. Your hand rubs over her small, distended tummy, the other holding her foot carefully. You keep glancing at her toe, much less swollen now and with a healthier complexion, though a cruel line remains from where the hair had cut into her skin. 

You don't touch it, only looking. He worries as a wrinkle appears between your eyebrows. 

Listening intently as he is, he can hear the hitch in your breath. Eddie doesn’t want you to cry again — the first time had been awful enough. Your face covered in tears, coming fast and panicked. It was like you’d hardly noticed you were crying. You’d been so scared that Eddie, despite knowing close to nothing about babies or how to make them feel better, had clung to his calm. He’d stomped down every flicker of panic that had surged and tried his damn best to keep a level head. 

Now, with your sad face and the crisis averted, Eddie feels a pang of terror. Just one. You are completely out of your element, Munson. 

You’re definitely the kind of friends now that can sit on the couch together and not care too much about personal space. Eddie uses this to his advantage and spreads his legs just enough to brush his thigh against yours. You look at him and hide your lingering upset with a small smile. It’s a far cry from the genuine happy grin he’s become familiar with, but you're still beautiful. 

Eddie shuffles across the couch toward you until he can push his hand under your arm. He pulls it to his chest, beware of your tenuously sleeping daughter, and hugs it. 

“I was thinking,” he starts casually, looking down at you. 

Your eyes crease with a playful smile. “Oh yeah?” Like you can’t believe it.

“Yeah, I was,” he says, quiet so as not to wake Junie but extremely passionate. “What’s that supposed to mean, sweetheart?”

“Nothing." You laugh under your breath.

He glares, faux-offended. Any real offense is swallowed instantly by the sound of your laugh.

“Hm. Anyway, I was thinking,” he begins again, hand running down your arm in what he hopes is a soothing gesture, “that I’d head into the city this weekend. Go to the bookstore ‘n’ the big goodwill by the bus station. I was hoping you’d wanna come with me.” Is he pushing his luck? Maybe. 

You look like you want to say yes, but, “Eddie, I don’t really have the money.”

“I’d pay.” He tries to sell it before you can protest. “I’m asking you to come. Stealing your Sunday. We’d leave early, get breakfast on the way. I don't want to go alone.” I want your company. 

He tries not to show how terrified he is that you’ll say no. 

“I can’t- I couldn’t let you pay for us,” you say, eyes on his chest. 

“Can I tell you something?” You nod. “It would make me… really happy if you did.”

He doesn’t know how to explain it. He doesn’t think there’s a way to tell you that won’t involve unveiling his new and shiny feelings for you, feelings that don’t seem to want to slow, or abate, or moderate themselves. Honestly, he doesn’t want them to. 

He wants you to be happy. He wants to take care of you.

It's embarrassing in its intensity. 

You reach over Junie to wrap your hand around his bicep, though you still don’t look like you’re going to say yes. 

He leans in close, tracing the details of your face with a greedy kind of curiosity. “You wouldn’t let me give you anything for the haircut,” he says. “It’s the same, you know? Doing things for the people you care about." 

He says it like the idiot he is, all rough and insincere, like caring about people is dumb. You smile anyways and finally, finally, give him a nod. So small it’s near imperceptible. 

“If you’re sure,” you say. 

“Positive.”

-

Eddie looks good behind the wheel of your car. The wind whips at his hair, curls that had been neat and pretty only an hour ago now starting to frizz. You think the chaos of it suits him. 

He’s singing along to the radio and it’s a song you don’t know. You don’t think Junie knows it either, but she’s signing it like she does, hands flailing in the air and Mr. Bear bouncing in her lap with the force of her dancing. Eddie looks at her in the rear view mirror, beaming brilliantly. 

“Yeah, sing it, junebug!" he encourages. Her voice peaks. 

You laugh and stretch your hands out in your lap, knuckles brushing the sandwiches you’d packed. You’d let Eddie pay for gas, you might even let him buy Junie a book from the bookstore if he’s feeling generous, but you’re really trying to keep his expenses low. Hence, sandwiches. Even now, the idea of him spending money on you makes you feel guilty. 

Deep down – deep, deep down – you want him to. You’re hoping he’ll pick up a book for you, and that fills you with so much shame you have to look away from him, your face to the window. The highway blurs past, the early morning sun lighting the blacktop and bouncing between cars of all kinds coming into the city for a Sunday outing. 

Eddie turns down the radio a tiny bit and reaches across the seat to squeeze your shoulder. “You alright?” he asks without looking at you. 

You tip your head toward his hand. His rings bite into your cheek. 

You’re in the car on a nice day with a nice boy and your pretty baby listening to the radio, the sun at your side and the breeze kissing your warm skin. 

You’d even managed to find a nice shirt to wear. Today is a good day. You won't weigh it down with silly feelings. 

“I’m great.”

He gives you that smile like he doesn’t believe you and his eyes go back to the road. “Can a guy get another sandwich or does he have to beg?” 

You imagine what it might be like to lean over and kiss his cheek. He deserves a good kiss, you think, and then wince as heat blooms from your chest up to your cheeks. You can’t hold in a pleased smile as you click open the Tupperware. 

“Do you want PB&J or bacon and lettuce?” The tomatoes have already been accosted by a ravenous Junie. 

“I’ll have half of whatever you’re having.”

You weren’t going to have one, and you both know that. You offer him half the PB&J and he takes it, eyes flitting between you and the road. You take a showful bite to release him. He gives you a grateful smile in turn. 

Chewing, you take half of the bacon and lettuce sandwich into your hands and pull it apart. You divide the contents and tuck half into one slice to make a quarter sandwich before leaning over the seats to offer it to Junie where she waits in her car seat. She accepts it hungrily. 

One-handed, Eddie pulls the car off of the highway. “There’s a parking garage somewhere around here,” he tells you.

Once he's found it he jumps out to go pay. You turn in your seat and smile at Junie. She's mauling her sandwich, face smeared in butter. 

"Are you ready for some fun?" you ask. 

She looks at you curiously. 

You try again, really smiling. "Are you excited? We're gonna go find a book, something fun like Red Cat, Blue Cat, and we're gonna see the stores and the people and maybe mommy can get you a new teddy." 

A spark of something. She gets happy when you're happy and today's no exception, her tiny features soon plucked up with joy. When you round the car and open her door to wipe down her greasy fingers and face she barely cares, and she receives your loving kisses with a big smile. 

Eddie returns with the parking ticket and slides it onto the dashboard. You leave Junie's door open now he's back to pop the trunk and unfold her stroller. The sound echoes through the parking garage and the sun struggles to find a way in, your arms wracked with goosebumps.

"Hey, junebug," you hear Eddie murmuring. 

He messes with the buckles on her car seat until they pop open, his triumphant laugh almost as pretty as his face. Junie's is prettier, your daughter laughing up a storm as Eddie scoops her up and sits her on his hip. 

He looks like he had when you first met but with ten times the confidence in holding her and a clear affection. Her hands are in his hair like usual, petting and pulling gently. 

"Brush out the tangles for me," he tells her seriously, bumping the door shut. 

She hums like she's agreed to his task and continues her exploring. 

You hang the baby bag over the stroller's handlebar and Eddie sits her in the padded chair. 

"Junie, have I told you how pretty you look today?" he asks, pulling the straps over her shoulders and from between her legs. He uses parentese like you would, distracting her as he locks her in. When the lock click, he plays affectionately with her hair. "You're like a princess. Your mom has talented hands, huh? And a good eye." 

Pleasure from his compliment drips in thick and fast. You bite back a smile and squeeze the clean baby socks in your hands, waiting for him to stand so you can fight them onto Junie’s feet. Ever since her ordeal you’ve been waiting as long as you can before putting on socks and shoes. The first thing you do when you pick her up from daycare is take them off. 

If Eddie thinks you’re overzealous in your fretting he hasn't said anything. He holds his hand out for the socks and you give them to him, nonplussed though you shouldn’t be as he bunches them up and pushes them over her wiggling feet with patience and bemusement. 

“Stay still… Do you want frostbite? Or gangrene?” he asks her.

“Eddie.”

“Sorry." He looks at you guiltily. “In my defense, she doesn’t know what gangrene is.”

“It’s weird, though. To hear you say it like it’s a good thing. S’creepy.”

He squeezes the sole of one of her small feet and stands, much too close to you as he whispers cheerily, “Gangrene. Septicemia. Pneumonia.”

You laugh and push him away from you. “Shut up.”

“You first. Where’re her shoes?” 

You procure them with a smug smile. “You’ll never get them on.”

His fingers brush yours as he takes them, his eyes blazing at the challenge. 

-

“Will you sulk all day?” Eddie asks you.

The sulking is for show. You frown like you’re really angry and tighten your grip on the stroller, the wind ruffling your clothes. After a moment the facade falls away and you smile at him, unable to hide your reluctant affection any longer. “How did you get her to sit still like that? You vex me.” Said with equal parts envy and pride. 

“I vex you,” he says, voice coloured by good humour. 

He’s fallen into step beside you, your jacket tied around his waist. 

You should bring your jacket. In case you get cold, he’d said. 

I don’t want to carry it, you’d said. 

Don’t patronise me.

You glance over the top of the stroller to make sure Junie’s blanket is still in place. She’s quiet. You’ve decided that she’s in shock to be somewhere that isn’t your home or the daycare. 

“Yeah, you vex me. Infuriate me. I’ve been a mom for two years and I can’t get her shoes on without a fight, and you’ve been-“ You stop dead, stutter, and quickly adjust what you'd been saying like it has been a slip up of the tongue rather than a thought you shouldn't entertain.  “You’ve known her for what, three months? And-“

“Four months,” he corrects, sounding much too proud. 

“Four months,” you amend. “And you can do all this stuff that took me years to work out.” You’re a little bit vexed for real. 

He nods like he’s considering what you’ve said before tipping his head. “But…”

You wait. He doesn’t further his point. “But what?”

“Well.” Eddie brushes something off of your arm. “I guess I have a great teacher, right?” His voice hikes up high and he steamrolls, “I just copy you. You didn’t really get to copy anyone.”

You feel something melty hot in your chest, another affection for Eddie to add to a growing list. “Oh.”

He takes your shoulder into his hand and you draw to a pause, his other hand pointing off into the distance. “There’s the bookstore.”

You follow his finger. Across a landscape of cobblestone, situated firmly between a Domino’s pizza place and a cafe with a peppering of metal wrought tables stands Morgan’s Books. To your surprise, it’s a glass-fronted building with a big clean sign made up of red, yellow, and blue. It's a children's bookstore. 

Eddie has obviously tricked you. You turn to glare at him and find him very close. He doesn’t shy away and you try not to in return. You try, but something about his pretty mouth so close sends shocks like pins and needles to your hands and you have to keep walking lest you embarrass yourself. His hand falls from your shoulder and trails down your back. You swear you can feel even the last millimetre of his fingertip before it falls away. 

You get a good look at the landscape ahead and your eyes narrow. Eddie almost bumps into you when you stop abruptly. 

“What?” he asks. 

"There’s, like, a thousand steps.”

“Gross hyperbole," he argues. A gap of quiet furthers your point; while you had been exaggerating, there are a lot of steps, and he needs time to take them all in.

“Is there a way around?”

“Don’t be dumb, sweetheart. You’ll grab June and I’ll carry the stroller.”

“It’s really heavy. Heavier than it looks.”

He grins like a fiend. “I’m strong.”

Junie’s more than happy to be released, less when you take her into your arms and won’t put her down. You help Eddie snap the stroller back up, indicating which lever to pull with the rubber toe of your converse. He kneels down to guide it into place and looks up at you swiftly afterward, self-satisfied and much too happy considering the task afoot. 

“Maybe we should find another way.”

“Y/N,” he says, like your name is inherently funny, like a joke rolled around over his tongue, “I’m starting to get offended.”

You blow air out of the side of your mouth. 

Eddie slugs the stroller under one arm and holds it tight with the other, giving you a very determined smile. “Ready?”

You balance the baby bag over one shoulder and start on the stairs. Junie's heavy but she’s a heavy you’ve grown used to, and she doesn’t complain enough to warrant any stress. 

You’re impressed when Eddie takes each step at your pace and doesn’t break a sweat. “I thought you were a bus boy. What do you bus? Weights?” you ask incredulously.

He laughs. “I don’t bus weights, but amps are heavy, and I’m not a big shot. I don’t have any roadies to carry them for me.”

You feel terrible then for forgettting. Right. He plays music, you think. You’ve never once seen him play any music, on stage or at home. You’ve seen him play guitar over Junie’s leg to tickle her and tap out a rhythm when he’s heating up desserts in your kitchen, but you’ve never seen him play guitar for real. 

“Is that going okay?” you ask, ignoring the small burn beginning to grow in your arms. 

“Bussing? Sure. Why’d you ask?”

“Not bussing, music. I never ask- I’ve never asked you how it’s going.” 

Eddie winces as the stroller starts to open and pulls it tighter under his arm. It takes him a few seconds to calibrate what you’ve said, and he’s quickly reassuring. “What? Why would you worry about that? You have enough to think about without adding my moonlighting at the Hideout.” He says the Hideout like it’s something to be looked down on. You almost trip up a step and Eddie can’t do anything but watch. “Careful," he begs. 

You keep your eyes on your footing until you’re at the very top, worried you'll fall flat on your face and get Junie hurt.. Eddie comes up two behind you and puts the stroller down, wiping his hands together dramatically. 

“Conquered. Great job, team. Especially you,” he says, poking Junie’s cheek. 

She puts her arms out, vying for his attention now she’s had a taste. He raises his eyebrows at her and offers his arms. You hand her over eagerly, arms aching. You can’t imagine what his feel like. 

“I care about it,” you say firmly. It rather than you, but it rings the same. “I want to know, Eddie, I swear. I’m sorry for not asking.”

He looks up from where he’d been making playful faces at Junie to stare at you. It’s not a mean stare, but it unnerves you all the same. 

She pushes a hand into his hair like she always does and starts to try and pull her fingers through it. It’s knottier than usual because of the wind, and she struggles to make sense of it. His eyes fall to her tugging. 

“Sweetheart,” he says slowly. You know it’s meant for you, even if he’s not looking at you. "If there was something worth telling you, I would’ve told you. I don't doubt that you care.”

You don’t feel better. “No, ‘cos-”

“Why are you so upset?” he asks genuinely. 

You hadn’t realised your face revealed the extent of it. “Because we’re friends. You’re the- the best friend I’ve ever had.”

He smiles, sudden and wide. “I’m your best friend?”

“Like we’re twelve?” you deflect. 

“Yeah, like we’re twelve.”

You ignore him and try to cool down. A hot flush attacks your skin as you stretch out the stroller and click the supports back into place, shucking off your baby bag to hang over the handlebar with a relieved sigh. 

Eddie moves Junie to one side. You anticipate his touch before it happens, his free arm behind your back and pulling you to him. “We’re totally best friends. I’m your best friend,” he says smugly, hand curling around your shoulder. It’s a good hug, friendly and warm and heart-racingly close; you can feel his chest on your back, the curve of a pec through thin fabric. 

You turn toward him indulgently but keep your head down. It’s so nice to be hugged that you can’t make yourself move away.

He rubs the top of your arm, the bump of his rings biting into your skin. “You don’t deny it?”

“No. I don’t deny it.”

“Hear that, June?” Again, he calls her June. Not Junie or junebug, June. You like the way he says it. “I’m your mom's best friend. I win.”

You nod happily, warm under his touch.

Wait. “What?”

“She likes me more,” he teases her childishly. 

“Eddie!”

“What? Am I wrong?” He leans away from you and feigns confusion. 

“Yes! Of course you’re wrong! That’s my baby. Give her to me right now." You join in on his melodramatics, grinning even as you continue, “How could you say that? Sicko." 

“That got frosty quickly,” he grumbles, holding her away from you. 

You move in to plaster Junie in kisses. Not apology kisses because you didn’t say anything wrong, but kisses all the same. 

“Can I get in on one of those?”

You huff at him. He bursts into boyish laughter and holds his hands up. “Kidding!”

“Should we go?” Before you say something stupid.

Eddie carries Junie and you push the empty stroller until you're all looking up at the store's bright sign. "This is where you wanted to come?" you ask him, eyes falling to the window where a sign brags a children's reading nook and their Read Before You Buy promotion. 

He shrugs. "Bookstore's a bookstore." 

"No, this is for kids. We're never gonna find what you wanted in here. I doubt they have King of the Rings between Red Cat, Blue Cat and Pony Girl."

"King of the Rings," he repeats jovially. 

"Whatever it's called." 

He pulls a squirming Junie higher up the length of his chest, the fabric of his shirt rides up with her. You pull it down. You're flustered enough, his naked skin is the last thing you need. 

"Sweetheart, I'm sure they'll have what I want," he says flippantly, pushing the door open with his elbow. 

"If you're sure…" you say, following him in

The bookstore smells fancy. You breathe in the scent of plastic wrap and paper, your eyes searching over floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and pyramids of craft kits. Box sets of Enid Blyton and A. A. Milne sporting classic, whimsy spines are stacked in a towering and precarious looking arch. Signs on either side promise a children's wonderland inside. You follow Eddie around pen displays and jigsaw puzzles, ducking under the archway with an awed, "Oh, wow." 

"Watch out," he warns quietly, taking a step down into the kids' reading nook. 

You bump the stroller to the bottom of the steps and have to stop, amazed. 

Junie is a picture of you as Eddie sets her down, gazing around the room in shock. There's a lot of older kids scattered throughout on big circle pillows with books in their laps and a guardian beside them, but the real wonder is in the decoration. The walls are bedecked in murals; Kermit and Funnybones, The Very Busy Spider and the mouse from If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Junie sees Kermit on the walls and gasps, running up to the painting with wide eyes. 

Eddie follows her without saying anything. When he catches up to her, he offers her his hand. She takes it. She's practically shouting, their joined hands restless as excitement courses through her in waves. 

You find two big pillows and a couple of books for Junie to look at. The three of you take to an empty corner and sit, looking over a big picture book full of stills from The Muppets Take Manhattan. Junie makes a lot of excited sounds and nonsense words, talking very confidently though half of it's lost on you both. 

"Kermit," she says, pointing at the page passionately. 

You wrap your arms around her tummy to keep her comfortable and hum. "Yeah, baby. Kermit, Miss Piggy, Gonzo. They're going to New York," you start to describe the page. 

Eddie leans in, his arm pressed to your arm, his skin a heat where it rubs into you as he helps hold open the book. 

The further you read the closer he gets.

Junie gets bored quickly, like toddlers tend to, and wants to go look at the walls again. Eddie stays with the stroller and you pick her up to let her touch her hands to the characters. 

"That's Spot," you tell her quietly, her fingertips brushing over flat fur. "Spot the doggy." 

Junie's never read anything Spot before. He's a popular character. There's three picture books to choose from. You pick up the first, Where's Spot? and offer it to her. 

She likes the look of him. You carry her back to your pillows and struggle to sit back down in the tight gap between the wall and Eddie's knee. He stretches his arms out to take her. . 

"What'd you find, sweetheart?" he murmurs as he balances her on his thigh. 

He reads to her. He has the voice for it, soft and sweet. 

-

"We had sandwiches," you argue, two hours and what feels like fifty stories later. 

Eddie had known before he suggested it that you were gonna fight him on this. He’s managed to end up behind the stroller, weaving between unlucky bystanders as his eyes search for somewhere to eat. 

“And they were awesome."

“Eddie,” you complain softly. 

He peeks at you by his side, grinning at the plastic bag full of books you’d insisted on carrying where it dangles from your fingers. 

You take his smile for teasing and sigh. “Come on. I’ll make dinner when we get home.”

“Sweetheart, as much as I love your cooking that’s hours away. We don’t have to go anywhere fancy. Look, there’s a McDonald’s right there,” he says, pointing toward the yellow ‘M’ sign where it flickers, breaking up a white sky. 

“I’m not hungry,” you say. He senses your proposition before you offer it. “But if you wanna get food, that’s fine.”

“You don’t like McDonald’s?” he asks. 

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Just think of it like- like using the bathroom before a long car ride. You might not need to, but it’s never a bad idea.”

Inside of McDonald’s, Eddie can tell how unhappy you are, your eyes drifting to the menu and your fingers squeezing both handles of the plastic bag. 

He parks Junie’s stroller next to a low table and you slide into the booth beside her. He doesn't sit right away.  

“You remember what I said?” he asks quietly, leaning on the table with one arm, head inclined to yours. 

Your eyes flicker between his face and his arm. You measure his gaze “Doing things for the people you care about,” you say, equally hushed.

Eddie reaches out to squeeze your wrist. “Exactly.” He tries not to squeeze too hard in case his rings dig into your skin. 

When you smile, he grabs the high chair and transfers one unhappy toddler into its constraints. There's a little basket of crayons and colouring papers near the registers that you plunder while he orders. By the time he gets back with a greasy tray of food and drinks Junie's made a masterpiece.

"Is that supposed to be me?" he asks brightly. 

Of course it isn't – there's a shock of blue and a red blob almost shaped like a heart next to the dark printed outline of Ronald McDonald. It's worth the risk of sounding like an idiot because you start to laugh so hard you can't scold him for the desserts. 

After wiping down the highchair's tray with a baby wipe, you peel open Junie's cheeseburger and start to break it into small pieces, blowing on each one vigorously before passing them over. You're about to start on fries when Eddie flicks your hand. 

"Eat," is all he says, swiping her fries out of your reach to copy your process. 

Tray laden with an abundance of bite-sized fast food, she grabs a cheesy looking slice of burger and screams loudly. 

Eddie gawps. "What was that? Is it too hot?" 

You swallow a sip of your drink and the cup sheds condensation like a spattering of raindrops when you put it down. "I think she's having a really good day," you say.. 

"Well fu-" he amends his cuss word quickly, "-dge, me too, junebug. Best day out ever. We got books, burgers, and I'm with my two favourite girls." 

It might have sounded more romantic if he hadn't said it around a mouthful of big mac. You look almost as happy as Junie does anyway, 

-

When Junies just about finished you carry her off into the ladies to change her diaper and freshen up. You have a baby in one arm and a bag full of diapers and bottles and onesies in the other, and you stare into the mirror and can't work out Eddie's angle. 

Eddie is loud and crude and clumsy. He smells like his close friend Mary Jane half the time and he doesn't know how to style his hair. He laughs loud, sings louder. Almost everything about him is unapologetic and brash, his dark looks and ripped up clothes, his van, his smile. 

And he's nice. He's so nice. Down to the bone, maybe down to his soul, there's a kindness that floors you every single time. He smiles and he squeezes and he says sorry for things that aren't his fault. He helps without being asked. How many times now has he knocked the door, found you kneeling on the living room floor folding clothes and thrown himself opposite you? Bet you I can do double what you've done in five minutes flat. Or stationed himself at Benny's for lunch to check you're having a good day? Here's five for the pretty waitress I saw earlier, make sure she gets it, won't you? How many times has he, hair limp and clothes rumpled, burst beaming into the kitchen with enough dessert for a family of five and a gallon of juice? Why wouldn't I get a gallon? Junebug'll have drank half by the time you sit down, sweetheart. 

You look at yourself in the mirror and you can't work out why. 

"Hi, girls," Eddie says when you return. 

He's cleared off the table, leaning against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Like this, the lean trim of his waist is emphasised, as is the slight curve to the tops of his thighs. 

"Hi," Junie says. You echo her greeting. 

"D'you have fun? Powder your noses?" 

"Can't you tell?" you ask. You did not powder your nose. 

He straightens up and peers at you assessingly. "Definitely. S'like you got prettier, and I thought it was impossible." His voice is sugar sweet by the end, attention on Junie. She's aching to be put down and writhing in your grip, but his voice catches and holds her attention until you're back outside. 

It's cooler. The air cleaner. You put Junie down and clasp her hand firmly in your own, bending at the waist to tell her face to face, "No running off, alright? You hold mommy's hand tight." You squish her little fingers until she giggles. "Okay?" 

"Okay," she says. 

"Okay, thank you." Then, because she looks so sweet and this has been one of the best days of your life, "I love you." 

You kiss her cheek. 

Eddie won't let you push the stroller. "You concentrate on little miss trouble," he says mildly, kicking the brakes with a frown. "I got this. Maybe." 

Half a block to the goodwill. It's not as big as you'd expected but there's a fun furniture section that draws Junies attention. You're reluctant to let her climb on the furniture in case anything is dirty or infested, though you do sit her in a wicker chair for a tree swing and a huge velvet loveseat like she's goldilocks, asking, "How's that? Comfy?"

Hidden away, there's a bookshelf painted green and pink that threatens to topple over hiding a grandfather clock still ticking. You lift Junie up so that the three of you can look at the clock face, a small silver disk with illustrations on either side. A gorgeous swelling of purples and melty blues in a ring behind the man in the moon. The sun, a buttery yellow buffeted by white-blue clouds. 

"Grand," Eddie praises. 

"What did you want to come here for?" 

He grins at you and nods his head to the left. "It's over there." 

'It' ends up being a clothes rack longer than your trailer home partitioned by size. Every t-shirt different but bragging the same premise – band merchandise. A riot of rock bands peppered in popular duo's like Tears for Fears and the occasional Cyndi Lauper tour shirt, each one sticking out like a sore thumb; a rainbow array besides faded blacks and slate greys. 

"Why'd they have so many?" 

Eddie shrugs, though he tries to explain his theory anyways. "There's a venue maybe… four blocks away? That has these vendors outside all the time shelling knock-offs."

"So these are knock-offs?" 

"Most of them. They're usually in good condition though." 

He's right. You find all kinds of shirts in varying qualities. Some obviously real, thick fabric and perfect prints. He picks up a Judas Priest tour shirt that he claims to be the real deal, a Metallica long sleeve that most certainly is not. There's a Twisted Sister shirt with a mysterious brown stain and a Ghoulie Girls muscle tee that's almost completely split down one side. 

You shuffle through the things in your size, absent-minded. Junie's not interested in the slightest and is starting to complain. You fend off an oncoming tantrum with a pack of fruit snacks, offering them to her one at a time. 

Eddie whistles where he's standing a short distance away, "Oh, fuck." 

He unhooks a hanger and holds it out, amazed. "Oh, shit." 

"Eddie," you chastise. Not because you care, but Junie saying either of those words at daycare would suck. 

"Sorry, sorry. You like these guys, right?" He holds up a t-shirt for The Mamas and The Papas, a group from the sixties. It looks new. 

It's the only cassette you own where you can stand to listen to both sides all the way through. "Yeah. Like Cass Elliott's stuff more." 

"Who's that?" 

You point at Elliott on the shirt. "Her." 

"Guess how much they want for it," he demands.

You think. Junie whines for another snack and you give her the packet. "Ten dollars?" 

"A dollar." He passes the shirt to you so you can see it for yourself and leans down to bundle up your sighing daughter. She can't decide whether she's enjoying it for a good few seconds, her annoyance at being somewhere this underwhelming for so long clear but fading as Eddie shushes her gently. "Isn't that sick?" he asks you. 

"It would be sick, if you liked them." 

He shrugs. "I'll wear it as pajamas. A dollar for a shirt? You can't steal it that cheap." 

You laugh and drop it into his basket. He bumps his shoulder into yours until you move down the rack, his fingers searching for something with focus. You're in awe at how he's handling it, a basket heavy in the crook of his elbow and Junie on his hip trying to share her fruit snacks with him unsuccessfully. 

"Ah-ha!" He pulls out a black t-shirt. The back to you, you can't tell what's so interesting about it until he flips it around. "What do you think?" 

It's the same The Mamas and The Papas shirt. 

"You want?" he asks. 

You check the price tag before answering and find yourself laughing gleefully, almost smug. "Hey, this one's fifty cents." 

He gasps. "What?" 

"I can afford that one myself." 

He pulls it out of your hand, quick but not cruel, and tucks it into the basket. "Don't care. Wanna see if they have one in Junie's size?" 

"They won't." 

"What about a small and we cut the excess off? She can wear it like a dress. We'll all match." 

Eddie picks up a bunch of t-shirts for you, some funny, a lot plain bad. You wonder if you're being made fun of but from the gleeful expression on his face you know he's just having a good time. It's sweet, really, how he seems to pick the more feminine looking ones for you. You try your best to calculate how much he's spending on you – it feels tacky and silly, but urgent – and end up losing the thread. He must've passed ten dollars by now. It makes you feel sick. 

You see your saving grace across the way. 

"Oh my god!" you feign surprise. Both Eddie and Junie look up at you, startled. "You know what mommy just saw?" 

Junie perks up. 

"What did I just see? What did mommy see?" you encourage. 

"What?" she asks. 

"I saw… teddies!" 

"Mr. Bear?" she asks. 

You beam at her. "Mr. Bear's brothers and sisters, I think. Should we go look at them?" 

She says yes and then something else you don't catch, squirming aggressively to be put down.

Eddie says, "Sorry sorry sorry," and lets her down gently.

She snatches your hand and starts to tug you away. You glance over your shoulder to make sure Eddie's following you and he is, a melty-warm smile on his face. You navigate the store floor and almost knock down a bucket of hats with the stroller on the way to the teddies. There's a few of them, all lined up in a row next to jigsaw puzzles and old board games. 

"I didn't think this through," you say, watching as Junie picks through the teddies with a huge smile on her face. She starts to hug them towards her and you try not to cringe. 

"You can scrub her when we go home," Eddie assures you leaning against the stroller, hair behind his ears.

You grab the end of a curl and pull it back in front of his face, messing with it until it falls the way you want it to. He stays very still. "I might need to de-flea her." 

He laughs and it's a shock, an abrupt sound that makes your chest ache with fondness. 

"You might. I got some tea tree oil lying around somewhere if you need it," he says. 

"And if she gets dermatitis?" 

His grins turns embarrassed. "I don't know what that is."

"It's like-" You tilt your head to the side to mimic his own and drop your hand from his hair. "It's gross. Like a bad rash." 

"Oh, then we'll give her a tomato soup bath." 

You burst into laughter and have to grab his arm to stop from toppling over, or at least that's what you tell yourself. "That's for skunks," you manage to tell him, giggling loudly. 

"Shit, really?"

You nod at him, wanting to kiss the sheepishness straight off of his lips. "You're thinking of an oats bath," you say. "Oats are good for the skin. And milk." 

"So we just rub her down with oatmeal. Case solved." 

Your hand rubs over the curve of his forearm until you reach the cold bite of his chain bracelet. It brings your attention back to what it is you're doing. You pull your hand away. 

You have enough money to get Junie any teddy she wants. You'd made sure of that. You'll just have to hide the train in your tights and wear your waitressing skirt low on your hips for a week or three until you can afford a new pair of pantyhose. 

You move to kneel next to Junie. She's pulled every teddy off the shelf and sits half-buried in them, talking a hundred words a minute. You think she might be make-believing, catching the slightest difference in her tone as she shakes one bear and then the other. 

After checking the price tags stuck sloppily to each ear, you realise you can afford two. 

Best day ever. 

"Junie," you say with intent, heavy so she'll look at you. "I want you to pick your two favourite bears. Yeah? Pick which ones you like the best. And we're gonna take them home, okay? Give them a bath, brush out their fur, get them some jammies." 

Watching the way her expression changes as she realises what you're saying is confirmation. This is the best day ever. 

She decides eventually on one too many. There's a pastel green-blue rabbit with floppy ears and a ribbon tied around his neck, half a face of whiskers that make him quite charming and a worn tail. Next to him is a classic teddy bear who could be Mr. Bear's younger brother who seems in very good condition. Last, a bigger, softer golden teddy with an enamel nose and eyes lies over her lap.

You can't afford all three. 

You've barely opened your mouth to tell her, a weak smile on your lips ready to placate when Eddie says, "The rabbit is classic. You'll have to let me get her that one." 

"Eddie," you say, looking up at him as you shake your head, "you can't. I can't let you." 

"She'll have to share him with me, obviously. He's punk rock." 

It's the least punk rock plushie you've ever seen. 

"Eddie," you say again, quietly. 

He scoops the hair away from his face like he's going to tie it up. "Y/N." He says your name expectantly. When you don't budge he lets his hair fall back to his shoulders and turns serious. "You can pay me back, if you want to." 

"Really?" 

"Only for the rabbit." 

You purse your lips to fight a smile. 

Junie throws herself into your lap with her new treasures. "For the rabbit," she parrots factually, gazing up at you with eyes full of content. Her small smile means everything. 

"He's a bunny," you murmur, fingers brushing his rough ear. 

"He's sweet." Eddie crouches in front of you. He smells like something nice though you can't think of what it is. Cologne, something dark and deep hiding under a woody scent. Maybe sandalwood. His knee taps your thigh and his hand wraps around your shoulder for balance. "Got a dirty nose though. Who does that remind you of?"

You giggle and tap Junie's nose. "I wonder." 

-

Down what feels like a thousand steps and back into the parking garage, your legs are hurting in the best way and Junie's half asleep in her stroller. You'd reluctantly let her keep the blue-green rabbit in hand, and she snuggles him close to her chest. 

"I'm actually genuinely worried she's gonna get something from him," you confide. 

Eddie weaves his arm through yours. "Like rabies?" 

"A rash." 

"I'm allergic to gain detergent tablets," he says, his hand slipping away from you so he can put both on his hips. "When I moved in with my Uncle Wayne he didn't know that, obviously, not at first. We didn't notice for a while. One day I'm scratching my chest and he says to me, boy, what are you doing always itching like that? You ever take a shower?" He impersonates his uncle's disappointed frown.

You laugh. "Poor baby." 

"I mean, I probably wasn't showering." He laughs. "I was like, wow, thanks Uncle Wayne, I love you too.

"He lifts my shirt up in the middle of the kitchen and we both just stare at this rash. It was the first time I'd really noticed. I didn't… I was a skinny kid, I didn't really find any pleasure in looking at myself. And- He got so serious. Asking me if I was okay, if school was stressing me out." 

"He thought you were hurting yourself?" 

"In a way… It wasn't the first time he tried to get me to talk about how I was feeling, but it was the first time I thought- I mean, the first time I realised that it was permanent. That we were-" He cuts off with a laugh. "I'm being weird."

"No weirder than usual," you tease. Your expression softens. 

You slow, trying to convey how much you want to hear it with a smile. You don't want to say something that'll weigh on the impossibly light mood you're both in; the ground practically glows yellow under your shoes, the two of you walking on sunshine or something remarkably similar. 

"I guess I realised he was gonna take care of me. I told him all about school, stuff I'd been lying about, how the Walton twins kept taking my lunch money, how I was failing algebra. How much I," he licks his lips and then smiles, "how much I missed my mom." 

"Do you still miss her a lot?" you ask, though you know the answer. 

"Yeah, I do. I don't remember everything, but I remember the way she talked sometimes. I don't remember her voice," he concedes, "just… the way she moved. She would lean back whenever I was getting into trouble, and she'd get this look on her face like I was the funniest thing on the planet." 

You grin at him. Your cheeks ache from what must be a hundred smiles today. It's a really nice memory to have. 

"You are pretty funny," you say.

"What was that? You think I'm pretty and funny? Baby, you spoil me." 

You stop altogether and press your fists into your eyes, defeated. "I should've seen that one coming." 

"Yeah, you should've." 

Soft snores, so quiet you almost miss them. By the time you've got back to your car Junie's sleeping with her chin to her chest and the rabbit's ear held tight in her small hand. 

"Will she wake up?" Eddie asks quietly. 

"Not if I'm very, very careful," you whisper. 

You scoop her up and tuck her into her carseat, holding your breath all the while. Eddie tries his best to fold down the stroller. 

You emerge from the backseat and make a soft pitying sound. "Stuck?" 

"I can do it," he promises, head and face hidden behind the padded seat. His hands fight with the metal bars holding it in place. Again, you tap the right strut with your shoe to help him out. 

He says thank you but refuses to look at you. You swear you're gonna kiss his cheek this time for real because he deserves one and you really want to give him one, but he puts the stroller into the trunk and touches your waist as he opens the driver's side. Any bravery gets turned into mush. 

He rolls down the window and sticks his head out, ever amused. "Are you coming?" 

You pause at the door and get closer than you mean to, close enough to find yourself distracted by the beauty mark along his jawline. 

"You want me to drive?" you ask. 

"No, sweetheart. You're good." 

You smile at each other. It's a strange sort of smile, strange to be taller than him, strange to have your faces this near. There's a lot to say but maybe now isn't the right time to say it, or maybe now is exactly when you should, and his face lifts up just a touch and your hands feel heavy at your sides.

"Eddie…" 

You close your fingers over the door, braced as his body turns to yours. You get the sense that he's waiting for you to say – or do – something. To lean down. To take the leap. 

He's the prettiest boy you've ever seen. 

You waver. 

"You know," he says lightly, blinking his long lashes at you in a way that has your heart skipping beat after beat, "if we hurry, I think we can get on the highway before the work rush. We'll be back in Hawkins before dark." 

You bring your hand to his cheek. A sorry and a thank you at the same time. "I don't want to be back in Hawkins before dark." I really want to spend more time with you. 

"I'll crawl." 

You press your lips together, tongue in your cheek to stop from giggling like a loser as you walk around the hood and climb in. He turns the key in the ignition and switches off the radio before it can wake up Junie. True to his word, Eddie goes what must be a half a mile an hour out of the parking garage. The car behind you beeps aggressively. 

Your eyes flicker between the rearview and his grinning face. "What are you- oh." 

"Crawling," he murmurs smugly. 

The sun starts its slow descent. You use his knee for leverage and pull down his sun visor, then your own, blocking the light. Eddie says, "Thank you," very sweetly and you get comfortable and clip yourself in, anticipating a long drive home. 

The stores turn on their neon, fast food and take out restaurants open for the night. The smell of warm oregano and olive oil is strong as you drive through the side avenue past a pizza place with its door thrown open. 

Eddie asks if you're hungry and you decline. He takes it with grace and doesn't say much besides passing commentary until you realise he's going the wrong way. 

"Eddie," you start. 

"I know. Just- one last thing. Let me get one more thing and then we'll go home and you never have to let me spend money on you ever again." 

You look over his pinched, pleading brows and his slight pout for any insincerity and find it in droves. "Until Friday," you say, dejected.

"Now you're getting it." 

He pulls up to a small bakery and weasels his way inside. You wait, car idling, hands rubbing over the cracked leather of your seats wondering what sweet treat he's going to emerge with. 

You have a nightmare – a heaping bag of donuts and shortbread and pastries, things you could never pay him back for, more to add to the impossible pile of things he's given you. 

Doing things for the people you care about, you repeat to yourself wearily. 

You hadn't expected anything for the haircut, but this is more than a haircut. It's difficult not to think of every dollar as an attribute of every hour he's worked. What makes you deserving of his literal physical labour? 

I didn't force him. He likes me. 

He certainly looks like he likes you as he appears again, shoving his wallet into the back pocket of his black jeans and wielding a flat looking plastic platter with an exuberant expression. He almost drops them trying to show you. Your heart shoots into your throat.

He's still chuckling when he throws himself into the driver's side. "Shit, did you see that? Almost lost 'em. Here, sweet thing. Hold the sweets. Makes sense, right? Sweet thing holding sweet things."  

You accept the tray of what looks like a rainbow of blobs and go to peel off the lid. "Can I?" you ask. 

"Of course you can." 

You pull off the lid. Twelve cupcakes of all different colours in rows of four. The first four are chocolate cupcakes, one with green icing shaped like a frog, one with a white rabbit, one with an orange fox and one with a blue fish. The second row seems fancier. By the third and fourth row there's no pattern, just an assortment of flavours and decorations, chocolate curls and glitter, a half a strawberry, a smattering of mini marshmallows. 

"What flavours that one?" you ask, pointing at a golden cake topped with multicoloured icing, a swirl covered in little crystal like sprinkles. 

"I don't have a clue. I picked the first four and then realised it was taking too long. Told 'em to give me whatever."

"Eager to get back?" 

"Eager as a cry for life. Try it." 

"You don't want one before you start driving?" you ask. 

"I'll try that one after you." 

You peel back crisp, metallic shiny paper and take a cautious bite. It's a bourbon vanilla cake with a coffee flavour buttercream to cut the sweetness. You can't tell whether you like it or not at first, so you take another bite. 

"Leave some for me." 

"Sorry!" you say through a giggly mouthful. "Here." 

He has both hands on the wheel. You don't know what possesses you – though you're starting to wonder if it can be called possession at all, more like a hunger that won't let things lie – to do it, but you bring the cupcake up to his face and hold it so he can take a bite. 

He licks a big dollop of icing as it threatens to fall down his chin, head tilted high. "Oh my god. What is that? Is that coffee?" 

"I think so." 

"Okay, awesome. Let's try another one." 

"What?" 

"Let's try another one. There's still eleven left! We can save the cute ones for Juniper the Loveliest, but that's still a ton of flavours. C'mon, let me try the one with the chocolate curl. If I remember, it has white chocolate melted inside." 

"If you remember?" you ask, peeling back the paper of his requested cupcake. "You've had these before?" 

"A long time ago." 

You tilt your head toward your shoulder and watch his lashes kiss. "Here," you say warmly. 

He accepts the proferred cake and takes a good bite. His eyes roll back into his head dramatically and he goes stiff, shoulders tense and then suddenly not. You watch the muscle of his bicep flex as he tips his head back in pleasure. 

You chortle and you're so happy you don't care how silly you sound, nor how unattractive you might look as you hit him in the arm. "Stop! You're enjoying it too much!" 

"I'm enjoying it the right amount! Try it, try it," he says quickly. His eyes flick back to the tray. "I wanna try that strawberry one next." 

"Watch the road, Munson, god! I'll pass you whatever one you want, just don't crash the car!" 

You forget yourselves. Laughing, eating icing with your noses scrunched up, you don't remember to stay hushed, and soon Junie's awake and annoyed. 

You worry for a second that her crying will dampen the mood, but Eddie beams wider still. He's more smile than boy. 

"Junie baby! What cupcake do you want, sweetheart?" he asks her, watching her in the rearview mirror. 

"Cake?" she asks. 

"Cupcake! Yeah, baby, what one do you want? There's a froggy and a fishy and a bunny-" He stops to take a turn onto the highway. The road evens out underneath, the plastic tray stops crinkling. "And a fox," he finishes. "All for you." 

You twist in your seat, bunny and fish held in your hands. "Fishy or bunny?" you echo. 

"Fishy and bunny," she says clumsily, eyes widened with excitement. 

"Just one for now, baby. Let's pick the bunny," you say gently.

There's no hopes of her eating it cleanly. You don't bother with any precaution. It's your car and her seat and her clothes and if she wants to cover it all in soft fondant you don't mind, anything she wants if you get to see this look on her face. Pure happiness, her eyes closing in bliss as she takes her first bite. 

"Good, huh?" Eddie asks, speaking glances at her. 

"Good!" she says loudly, cheeks plastered in white icing and fluffy golden crumbs. 

Then, like the good girl she is, she tries to offer up the cupcake and almost drops it. 

"S'that for me? Aw, you keep it. You keep it. Mom's gonna share hers with me." He grins at you. "Isn't that right?" 

You share that entire tray of cupcakes right there in the car. By the time you get home, back to Hawkins, it's dark, your stomach hurts, and every cupcake bears two missing bites. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

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Devils roll the dice. Angels roll their eyes (Chapter 1)

Of course, you always knew that the angel and devil on people's shoulders can manifest into a physical form. But you didn't expect it to happen to you. And most of all, you didn't think they'd be so sexy.

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) x Yuuji Genre: Urban Fantasy AU, fluff, smut Word Count: 7k Playlist: Angel and Devil Warnings: 18+, smut, threesome, poly, oral, fingering, creampie, anal. Mentions of a car accident in the past. Religious themes, sacrilege. Yuuji is an angel, and Sukuna is a demon. They will have a romantic and sexual relationship with reader and each other. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Thank you so much to my sweet friend @tinymaru for giving Yuuji and Sukuna their angel and devil look in the header! Love you!

This story is my contribution to the Heaven and Hell collab. Thank you so much to the lovely @semisgroupie for hosting this amazing collab! Also: Happy Birthday to you, Venus!!

They appear at your table without warning.

One moment you're wallowing in self-pity, wiping away some tears while taking a sip from the comfort-milkshake you ordered for yourself here in the slightly shabby diner you always go to after work when you're close to breaking down. And the next moment, you become aware of two tall figures stopping in front of your table.

You look up in confusion and slight alarm. What the fuck is it now? Not enough that you had a stressful day at work with two customers yelling at you on the phone while you had to stay friendly and professional, your shitty coworker ratting you out to your boss about a mistake you made, and that boss telling you that you have to take one more shift because your department is horribly understaffed. And now it looks like you're gonna get robbed or something in this shitty diner. Just great!

You're too done to even be scared as your gaze lands on the two strangers who dare to add even more problems to your already stressful day.

You blink in confusion. They look so much alike that they are probably twins, definitely brothers. Pastel pink hair, almost identical haircut, tall, buff body, very attractive. But as much as they look alike, they also give off very different vibes.

One of them is wearing all white. The other all black. One of them is smiling brightly. The other is glaring at you menacingly and has black tattoos lining his handsome face. One of them has honey-colored eyes that look golden somehow, and the other has maroon-colored eyes that seem to glow red.

It doesn't make sense. One of them appears bathed in a golden light while the other is standing enveloped in shadows. How is this possible? Is it a trick of the light? But the rest of the diner looks just like always.

Maybe you are finally losing your mind.

The smiley one in white lifts a tan hand in a little wave, and his smile grows even brighter. He looks like some college jock or something. Very handsome, dressed in sporty clothes, a soft-looking white hoodie, skinny white jeans, and matching white sneakers with gold-colored shoelaces. It suits him and accentuates his athletic build.

"Heyy, (y/n)! Did you have a rough day at work again, sweetheart? Can we join you, please? We're here to help!"

His voice is warm and pretty.

Pictures appear before your mind's eye: Honey and sunshine, gold wrappers around caramel chocolate, soft candlelight on a romantic date.

You furrow your brow in confusion. Why do you describe a stranger's voice in such a poetic way? Where is this coming from? And why does he act like he knows you?

You look directly into his eyes, realizing that he really has golden eyes. Are those contact lenses? And what does he mean, they are here to help you?

"Um...who are you?"

You hear an annoyed-sounding huff, and your gaze snaps to the guy in the elegant tailored black suit. His glowing red eyes bore into yours, making you feel strangely naked as if he can not only see through your clothes but also through your skin and flesh and see right into your heart and soul. It's a creepy feeling. You shiver slightly, unconsciously hugging yourself.

But you can't look away from him, as scary as he is. You imagine this is what it feels like to be trapped in a Venus flytrap. Knowing you will get devoured but still being attracted to the seductive scent of nectar that lured you in with the temptation of the most delicious meal you ever laid your eyes upon.

His muscular arms are crossed in front of his broad chest while he musters you as if you really are a mere fly. His voice is low and velvety, sounding somehow inappropriately erotic even though his reply isn't sexual in any way.

"What does it look like? We are your angel and your devil."

The same thing that happened when the guy in white talked to you happens again: Pictures appear in your mind. Dark red silk sheets, red neon lights, lovers entangled in a passionate embrace, a fire crackling in a fireplace, a juicy red apple offered on a plush velvet pillow. Temptation incarnate.

You realize that you moved closer to the edge of the bench. Closer to him. Your eyes widen in shock, and you grab the table tightly to stop yourself from moving.

His words slowly begin to register. Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls open in a surprised gasp.

"What? But..how? Why? How come I never saw you before? I...I thought I didn't have an angel and devil..."

The guy in black, your devil, you assume, clicks his tongue, raising his eyebrows while he lifts one elegant hand and inspects his slightly pointy black nails, looking so arrogant and annoyed but also sexy as hell. Literally.

A hysterical-sounding chuckle escapes your lips. But you fall silent when your devil speaks up again in his low, seductive voice:

"There was no use to show ourselves. Trust me, I didn't ask for this. I'm pretty busy ruling my circle of hell. I don't even know why I had to be bothered with something mundane like looking after a human anyways."

His little rant gets interrupted by the one with the golden glow around him. Your angel. He laughs softly, sounding sweet like cotton candy at Disney Land on a beautiful summer day.

His hand lands on the devil's arm, smacking it lightly. Tan, golden skin on black fabric, casting a warm glow over the shadows that seem to gather around your devil.

"Oh, please, don't act so almighty. I bet you are pretty bored down there on your lonely throne. I heard there's not much going on in the seventh hell circle apart from that river of blood."

He turns to you with a cute smile on his pretty face:

"I'm glad to finally meet you again, (y/n)! I've been watching over you for several years now. Can you recall your 18'th birthday when you got into that car accident? Maybe you remember me."

A memory comes to you. Lying in the wrecked car, waiting for help to come or for death. And suddenly, a soft glow. A feeling of peacefulness and safety washing over you. A warm hand holding yours, soothing words whispered to you, comforting golden light in the middle of the night.

A reassuring smile, pink hair, and a golden halo on top, something feathery soft brushing against your arms. A sensation of being wrapped in love and hopefulness.

"It's ok, sweetheart. Help is on the way. They'll be here any minute now. I'll stay with you until then. You'll be ok, I promise you. I got you. Just look at me. You're doing great. You want to live, right, sweetie? And you will. I love you so much, don't forget me, ok? Maybe we'll meet again."

You thought it had just been your delirious mind, high on adrenalin, confused from the shock.

"Wait.. so that was real? Are you...what? My guardian angel?"

"Yep, that's me! Yuuji, your guardian angel! I mean, it's my second job. We have a bit of a staff shortage since the world population has been increasing so much. So you only get one angel for all your needs and not several ones. I'm also the angel to guide your conscience. That little guy on your shoulder."

He looks at you with his big golden eyes, nodding and smiling, looking as if what he just told you isn't the craziest thing you have ever heard. Staff shortage in heaven, huh?

And describing himself as the little guy on your shoulder when nothing about him is little. He is tall and muscular, the glow surrounding him making him look ethereal, so powerful that it should be terrifying but instead makes you feel safe and protected.

Your mind is still struggling to accept that you met the angel and devil on your shoulder in the flesh. They really exist! Of course, you know that supposedly everyone has them, and some people meet the manifestations of them. You have even seen people accompanied by their angel and devil, but somehow they never looked so...so beautiful! They just looked like regular humans. Maybe only the people they belong to can see their true form?

Your angel, Yuuji, takes a step towards you. You can feel his aura. It's like feeling the sun coming out and warming you after shivering in the cold. It's like that sudden spark of hope you get when you receive good news. It feels like comfort and safety and love, and you almost start crying because it's so beautiful.

Your hands twitch and move forward out of their own accord. Before you can stop yourself, you tentatively touch Yuuji's hand with your fingertips, giving in to the need to touch this comforting aura. You feel warm and soft skin under your fingertips.

The angel laughs, a lovely sound like sunlight and diamonds glittering on wedding rings made of pure gold.

He turns his hand, so his palm is looking upwards, and he can take your hand in his and intertwine your fingers. His touch is gentle and reassuring. You remember it. It helped you in the darkest and loneliest moments of your life when you were lying in that car, so sure, there was no hope left until he appeared and wrapped you in his love.

A choked sob escapes your lips as tears gather in your eyes, and you tighten your hold on Yuuji's hand.

He squeezes your hand gently.

"Aww, I'm sorry, this must be a lot for you right now, sweetheart."

You are barely able to nod while staring at your hand in Yuuji's bigger one. You are holding hands with an angel!

"Y..yes.. this is kinda crazy."

A mocking-sounding laugh makes you turn your head towards your devil who's watching you with a rude look in his pretty eyes, which sparkle like rubies.

"Are you always this slow, princess?"

What is his problem? What did you do to piss him off that much? Your initial fear is forgotten, and you glare back at him.

"Are you always this grumpy?"

His red eyes flicker suddenly. They already looked devilish a moment ago, but now they are blazing with neon red fire. Your hand tightens its hold on Yuuji's. Maybe it wasn't the wisest decision to argue with a Lord of Hell. You are really grateful that your guardian angel is here too!

But to your utter astonishment, all the devil does is laugh softly before sliding into the booth and sitting down on the bench across from you. He places his elbows on the sticky table, resting his chiseled chin on one hand as he smirks smugly at you, eying you so intensely that it makes your skin crawl. He looks at you like a cat looks at a new plaything, a little mouse or bird it can toy with before it eats it.

His low voice is a sexy purr, seductive, making you lean towards him despite the fear you feel.

"I am Sukuna, your devil, and the one you should always listen to. I'll explain this only once, so you better listen closely, my dear:

I assume you are at least familiar with the concept of every human getting assigned a personal angel and demon, right? Our job is to guide your conscience. Some people never meet their angel and devil in the flesh because there's no need for it. They just go on about their boring everyday lives without much ado. Others meet their angel and demon at some point in their lives because a situation calls for it. And that's the case with you."

Somehow he's so close to you now, and one of his large hands reaches out to cup your chin with his thumb and index finger. You are mesmerized by his glittering red eyes, the black lines adorning his pretty face, his seductive voice, and the arrogant, sexy smirk on his pink lips.

The lips which are so close to yours now that you can feel his warm breath caress your skin when he continues to talk:

"There's only so long we can sit something out. But your constant worrying and obsessing over your job situation made it necessary for us to manifest in the mortal world. So now we're here at your disposal, unfortunately."

The last part is breathed against your lips, almost sounding like a moan, making you press your thighs together as your lips part in a soft groan, causing them to touch your devil's sinfully soft lips, sharing an accidental, almost-kiss that sends sparks through your body.

He pulls away with an evil grin on his handsome features, leaning back against the backrest of the bench, looking so conceited that it's infuriating.

You lick your lips and clear your throat feeling a bit dizzy. But Yuuji's strong warm hand squeezes yours gently, and it helps you focus again. Your angel joins you on the bench now, sitting next to you, sliding so close that you can feel his body heat next to you, warm and comforting.

You give him a grateful smile before looking at your devil again.

"Ok, thanks for the explanation. But um, look, I don't want to sound ungrateful, but why exactly are you here, Sukuna? Wouldn't it be better to only have an angel who guides us, humans? So we would make the righteous decisions?"

"That's not how it works, princess. What would hell be like if everyone made the right decisions and behaved themselves? We need souls down there too."

"Oh, that sounds extremely trustworthy, of course. Yep, I'll definitely listen to your advice now."

He sighs at your sarcastic reply, but you see the amusement in his ruby eyes. The devil seems to enjoy this situation a lot more than he claims to do. Maybe it's really boring in his circle of hell.

"Trust me, I'm not planning to drag you into hell with me. You already sound like a real brat. I wouldn't want that around me all the time! And my advice is useful. An angel will tell you to put others first, but a devil like me will help you fight for your own goals."

Next to you, Yuuji laughs softly, but his laugh sounds happy, genuinely amused, and good-natured.

"Sukuna is right. You can benefit from your devil's conviction. That's what this is about, after all. There are always two sides to everything. And we help you find the way that's best for you. Hey, can we order something now? Those milkshakes and burgers look delicious! I always miss human food when I'm not here!"

His pretty face is alight with excitement, golden eyes sparkling happily, sunshine smile making him look so beautiful that you can only stare at him with a warm feeling spreading through your chest and butterflies beginning to set flight in your belly.

"Of course, I'll order all the milkshakes and burgers you want, my sweet angel. You can have anything you want."

You blink in confusion. Why did you say that? Sukuna's laughter carries to your ear, and his amused, sexy drawl:

"And you thought only the demon would be dangerous, hm? Well, darling, your angel boy here is a hazard too."

At the same time, Yuuji exclaims loudly:

"Oh good Lord, I am sorry! Did I use some angel power? I didn't mean to! I'm so sorry, sweetheart! You don't have to buy anything for me! I have my own money!"

Angel power? Making you want to buy things for him and kneel in front of him to worship him and offer all your belongings to get a bit of his heavenly love? Wow.

Your life will definitely be a lot more interesting from now on, with your angel and devil by your side.

But Yuuji and Sukuna manifested here to help you, right? And you really could use some advice when it comes to your problems at work.

Also, they look really cute when they both sip on their milkshakes, vanilla for Yuuji, and maraschino cherry for Sukuna. And very pretty. And so sexy. You can't stop staring at them.

Whoever is in charge of assigning an angel and devil to a human did a fantastic job when deciding you'd get such gorgeous messengers of heaven and hell!

"So, are you gonna be here all the time? My apartment isn't that big, you know?"

It's a strange feeling walking down the street to your apartment flanked by those two tall pink-haired guys, knowing they are your personal angel and devil. The weird thing is not that they are here, but that it feels so natural as if they belong here by your side.

You just worry a bit as you near your home because you don't have enough space to have them both staying over. The couch is the only space besides your bed that can function as a sleeping place, but it only has enough room for one person. Or angel. Or devil. Do angels and devils even sleep?

Sukuna's deep chuckle lets you see more images in your head. A dark red velvet blanket and silk pillows, red candle wax dripping onto naked skin, crystal glasses with red wine standing on a nightstand, two figures entangled on a richly decorated bed, passionate kisses, rhythmic thrusts, and cries of pleasure.

"Oh princess, don't worry about that. I can just sleep on top of you. And angel boy here can sleep on the floor. Just use your wings as cushions, sweetheart."

"Oh heavens! I won't let you molest (y/n)!"

"It's not molesting if she wants me in her bed, and let's face it. All three of us know that she does."

The smirk on his face is so insufferable that your fingers twitch with the need to punch him. But Yuuji's warm touch on your arm makes you take a deep breath and instead just reply:

"Oh, is that so? Maybe I want Yuuji in my bed!"

"Look, there's no need to fight! We don't have to be here all the time. We will always be in your soul, yes. Watching you and your surroundings, but we don't have to be here in the flesh all the time. Only when we want to communicate with you."

Yuuji smiles reassuringly at you, solving the problem with that useful piece of information that your devil decided to withhold from you. But the relief is short-lived because Sukuna's velvety voice drawls:

"Well, then leave, little angel brat. I sure as hell won't."

Smug satisfaction is spreading over his handsome face. Yuuji's eyes turn so golden that they are blinding to look at here on the dark street. He sends your devil an indignant look.

"If you're not leaving, I'm not leaving either!"

An hour later, you have managed to shower and get ready for bed and are now lying on your side with a nervously fluttering heart as you watch your angel getting undressed in front of you.

Since Yuuji and Sukuna decided to bless you with their presence all night, you chose to let your angel join you in bed and banish your devil onto the couch. After all, sharing a bed with an angel sounds pretty safe.

But doubts are creeping into your mind as you watch an already shirtless Yuuji pulling down his white pants.

He is gorgeous. Tan skin with a golden glow, buff muscles everywhere. Broad shoulders, firm biceps, deliciously toned pecs with very lickable pink nipples, defined abs, a v-line that makes you want to get on your knees and worship him all night. Strong muscular thighs and a big bulge in those tight white boxer briefs that lets you know exactly how big your sweet angel is down there.

He looks at you with a pretty smile on his handsome face, truly looking angelic. So breathtakingly beautiful that it almost hurts to look at him.

Maybe it was a stupid idea to say you want him to sleep in your bed.

But he's already lifting the blanket, slipping underneath it to join you with a big smile on his soft pink lips and a pretty sparkle in his golden eyes, and how could you say no? And after all, he is also your guardian angel. You feel safe with him. You know he will protect you, will take care of you.

It's not yourself who you fear for. It's him.

Because it's so hard to stop yourself from touching him, from running your hands over that sun-kissed skin, caressing those big pecs and everything else, hoping that you can make your sweet angel boy moan because he probably makes the most heavenly sounds!

You gulp hard, tensing up because you feel so guilty about having those impure thoughts about a messenger of heaven.

But then Yuuji is there right in front of you with his cute smile and comforting presence. One of his large warm hands cups your cheek gently.

"Hey, please don't be scared, my love. I promise you are safe with me. You can just go to sleep. I will protect you."

"It's not me I am worried about!"

Your eyes widen as you realize what you just blurted out. Why did you do that? And why is your mouth opening again to add more?

"You are so beautiful, and I feel this...this urge to get closer...I am so sorry, Yuuji!"

His thumb caresses your cheek with so much tenderness that it makes your heart overflow with warmth.

"Aww, hey, it's ok, sweetheart. I get it. You want to touch me?"

"Yes."

"Well, you can. Don't hold back, sweetie. It's fine! I am in love with love and affection. I love sharing it with you. And I love you. I love you very, very much."

God, he is perfect!

Before you can stop yourself, your hands are running over his buff biceps, marveling at how firm his muscles feel and how soft his skin is.

And then you get a taste of heaven when Yuuji's warm lips find yours in a tender, slow kiss that tastes like cotton candy and sweet strawberries and clouds and sunshine and everything pastel pink and sweet.

This must be how the kiss of true love mentioned in fairytales feels like. Because Yuuji is the embodiment of love and comfort and everything good in this world. You find yourself sighing happily into his mouth when his soft tongue slips between your lips.

He keeps kissing you, slow and deep, so loving and sweet. Your heart clenches at the realization that Yuuji won't pull away unless you do. He won't take the comfort of his heavenly kiss away from you. It's your decision when you are ok with ending the kiss.

He's so good to you, truly your angel.

You pull away with a happy smile, and there's a matching cute grin on Yuuji's pretty face too.

"Do you want to sleep, cutie? It's already late, and I want you to get some good rest."

You nod, unable to say anything because you fear that if you do, you will end up crying. The last months have been rough for you, always stressing about so many things, always too much work, too much overthinking, too much bullshit to deal with.

You had wished for someone to hug you, to listen to you, to just let you fall into their arms and forget about the craziness of the world out there for a little while. And now your wish has come true so unexpectedly in the form of this beautiful and sweet angel who's currently lying half-naked in your bed after blessing you with the best kisses of your life.

Finally, you open your mouth to whisper in a voice thick with emotion:

"Thank you, Yuuji. For everything. For being there for me in the night of the accident. And for today. You're making me feel a lot better."

"Aww, please don't thank me, sweetheart. You're very welcome. I love taking care of you."

His smile is like your personal sun right here in your bed.

Yuuji snuggles closer to you, his strong arms wrapping you in a loving embrace. He rests his head on your chest and makes a cute noise that makes you reach out and run a hand through his soft pink hair that feels like you imagine a fluffy cloud to feel like.

You close your eyes while cuddling your angel boy. He is warm and heavy, but not in a suffocating way but in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable and bursting from happiness.

You sigh happily, realizing that you haven't been this at ease for months. Usually, you lie awake for hours at night obsessing over the things your coworkers did or the piles of work waiting on your desk. But tonight, you feel happy and relaxed, wrapped in your angel's strong arms. Enveloped in love and affection, cuddling your personal piece of heaven as you drift off to a peaceful slumber filled with nothing but sweet dreams about pastel pink clouds and golden eyes.

You wake up the next morning feeling more rested than you did in a long time, stretching carefully so as not to wake your pretty angel, who's still snoring softly against your chest, feeling so comforting on top of you.

Just as you finish that thought, he stirs, and his eyes open, pure gold blinking sleepily at you through long black lashes. He's so pretty! It's like you have your personal sunrise here in your bed.

"Good morning, my sweet angel."

You can't help but coo at him and pet his soft pink hair as a happy smile spreads over your face. Yuuji blesses you with one of his angelic smiles as he leans into your touch.

"Aww, good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?"

"Better than in months! Thank you."

He laughs softly, a happy, joyful sound, so delighted that he could help you. Slowly he untangles himself from you and braces himself on his strong arms to lean over you, buff body covering yours completely. Soft skin and firm muscles. And to your pleasant surprise, even angels seem to have morning wood, rubbing against your thigh big and hard, heaven's sweetest treat.

Yuuji leans down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I'm glad about that! Is it ok if I take a bath? Us angels are always clean, but bathing is one of the things I really enjoy so much when I'm on earth! Bubble baths are so amazing! I don't understand why we don't have them! So, can I please?"

Your chest feels so warm. He's so sweet, so pure and genuine, so lovely and good down to his very core. How could you say no to his every wish? If your sweet angel wants to take a bubble bath, he should definitely do that.

Even though you would very much want him to stay here in your bed, on top of you, where you can run your hands over his muscular back and feel the big hard bulge in his boxer briefs press against you.

You wonder how it would feel to get fucked by him, by an angel. Your panties feel wet all of a sudden, and you can't stop yourself from arching your back a bit, making your panty-clad pussy rub against him.

There's only the thin fabric of your panties and his boxers separating you, and you can feel his hot erection throbbing through it. And he can probably feel your wet heat too.

"Yuuji..."

The guilt you felt last night is gone. He told you it's ok to touch him. You're just not sure how much touching is allowed. Do angels indulge in carnal desire?

Yuuji's breathing heavily when you look up at him, his eyes shining even more golden, making them look like two little suns.

"Yes, sweetie?"

He rolls his hips slowly against you, letting you feel more of him, and elicits a soft gasp from you when his large cock glides so heavenly over your swollen clit. His glowing golden eyes never leave yours as he repeats the motion, watching you closely for your reaction.

"Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I want to give you anything."

"I...I want...Um, can we? Is it ok if we... Oh gosh. Do angels have sex?"

Your angel boy's laugh is beautiful and sweet like the chiming of a hundred little bells. And the way he's rutting against you should already be answer enough, but his low soothing voice spells it out for you, sounding warm like honey, a sensual, comforting caress:

"Yes, we do. We make love. Do you want that? Do you want me to make love to you?"

You can't help but moan at his words, and your fingers tighten on his muscular back, fingernails digging gently into his warm skin as your hips buck up against him.

"Yes, please. Make love to me, my angel."

You spend the next half an hour learning just how heavenly sex with your angel is. He's taking you to several highs, making you feel like you are on cloud nine when his large hands cup your tits and his soft lips spoil your nipples with tender kisses, making you moan and cream so much that you almost cum from just this.

But Yuuji still has a lot more to bless you with, and his sweet kisses wander down your body. His hands and mouth make love to every inch of your skin they find on their way.

You welcome him eagerly between your spread thighs, so wet for him like you've never been for anyone else before. And beautiful Yuuji pulls down your panties and smiles up at you with his sweet sunshine smile, so loving and tender in everything he does.

"So pretty my love. Everything about you is so pretty. I want to taste your sweetness on my tongue."

He eats you out with his sweet soft angel mouth, kissing and licking and sucking your clit until you are lost to sweet heavenly bliss and yank on his soft pink hair as your thighs shake uncontrollably. Your back arches, and you cry out his name as you cum and cum and cum.

A series of gasps and moans tumbles out of your mouth, followed by an "Oh sweet heaven!" when you see his beautiful thick cock for the first time, so hard for you, so big and strong and pretty.

A loud, needy cry of his name when he pushes inside you, and you wrap your legs around his waist as Yuuji folds you in half, making sweet love to you with deep gentle thrusts that make you feel like floating through heaven.

"Is that good, sweetie? Does it feel good? I love you so much, sweetheart ah! Ah! I love how tight you are and how warm, so wet, oh sweetie! This is heaven on earth!"

His moans and whines sound so cute, so pretty, making your head spin. You look up at your beautiful sexy angel through half-lidded eyes, which are blurry with tears because his cock hits the right spot over and over again.

His strong body presses you down in the perfect way that makes you feel taken care of and fucked so good that you can't stop crying and moaning and begging for more.

And your sweet angel boy gives you more. He gives you anything you need without any hesitation. Strong snaps of his hips, deep, slow thrusts, perfect cock, and perfect body fucking you to paradise.

Your orgasm on your angel's cock is the sweetest bliss you have ever felt. You're cumming so hard, body spasming with wave after wave of pure heavenly ecstasy, as your pussy clenches around Yuuji's thick cock, and you cry out loudly, unable to hold back.

You're still a mewling crying mess when you feel your angel pump you full with his thick hot ropes of seed.

He stays inside you, heavy body pressing you down exactly how you need it, making you feel so protected and full and loved, as Yuuji kisses you tenderly, moaning softly into your mouth.

You caress his muscular back and his biceps, marveling at how good he feels. You could spend forever like this, wrapped in your angel's arms, his wonderful cock inside you, his strong, buff body on top of you. Basking in the exhilarating, joyous feeling of afterglow after he blessed you with the sweetest fuck of your life.

Or lovemaking, as he calls it. And that's truly what it is. You have never felt so loved before. So filled with love, surrounded by it, wrapped in it.

He pulls out slowly when your alarm goes off, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek and smiling this sweet smile at you.

"I guess it's time for you to get ready for work, sweetheart. You know what? I'll run a bath for you and me."

And he disappears into the bathroom, giving you a lovely view of his gorgeous naked body, the divine sight of his back muscles and toned thighs, and that firm round ass.

You moan and let your head fall back on the pillow. Meeting your angel in the flesh is definitely the best thing that ever happened to you.

When you get up a few minutes later, you find out that Yuuji's cum is just as pretty as the rest of him. Milky white trails run down your thighs, thick and glittering so prettily, like vanilla milkshake laced with gold dust.

You follow your sexy angel into the bathroom with wobbly legs and a racing heart.

You're glad you always set your alarm early because this way, you have enough time to enjoy your bath with Yuuji. He's sitting behind you in the tub, laughing happily because he loves the bubble bath so much. Blowing white foam off his large tan hands and chuckling in delight.

But his hands also do other things. They wash you with gentle caresses, making you so horny once again that you spread your legs needily for your angel. And he smiles and kisses you and rubs slow, tender circles around your swollen clit until you cum again, slumping bonelessly against his muscular body afterwards.

When you walk into the living room a while later, dressed and ready to make some breakfast, you catch yourself smiling. Something which usually doesn't happen when you're about to go to work. Your guardian angel is already doing a fantastic job! The prospect of going to work doesn't seem that bad after this blissful morning.

You are so deep in thought that you don't see the devil sitting on your couch until his velvety low voice purrs mockingly:

"Good morning to you too, princess. Yes, I slept great on your ratty couch. Thank you for asking. Your hospitality really knows no bounds."

You gasp and stop in your tracks, head whipping around to look at the impressive sight in front of you.

Sukuna is sitting on the couch, long legs spread slightly, mustering you with his glowing red eyes, which are glittering like red diamonds in the dimly lit room. The smug smirk on his handsome face makes him look arrogant. But also incredibly sexy. He looks like a king sitting on his throne.

And you feel so small all of a sudden, like a mere peasant who has to crawl in the dirt before the king's throne, begging him for forgiveness for not treating him like the powerful and perfect being that he is.

Without realizing it, you walk towards Sukuna. The grin on his beautiful face grows bigger. One long finger brushes over his lips. You watch, mesmerized as his forked tongue darts out to lick over the pointy tip of his black fingernail. His tongue is tattoed too, you realize, and it makes you groan helplessly.

Somehow the living room is much darker than it should be at this time of day. Wrapped in shadows and a red glow, making it appear like the insides of a nightclub. The air is thick, seductive, luring you to get even closer to the enticing demon dressed in his elegant black suit with the black dress shirt and dark red tie.

You reach your devil and open your mouth to say something, but Sukuna's large hands land on your hips before you can do anything else. He pushes you down with ease, strong hands making you kneel between his long, toned legs.

Your chest is heaving heavily in a mix of fear and desire as you look up at your beautiful devil. An elegant hand lands on your head, strong fingers petting your hair like one would pet a dog.

The smirk on the demon lord's beautiful face grows even more devilish.

"Yeah, that's much better. See, this is where you belong. At my feet, crawling before my throne."

Suddenly a light tinkle is heard, the sweet chiming of bells, and Yuuji appears in a puff of pastel pink clouds and glittering gold dust, manifesting directly behind Sukuna. He puts a tan hand on the demon's shoulder.

"Not so fast, my sweet devil. I think you forgot that you and I are supposed to serve her and not the other way around."

Your devil groans and his hold on your hair loosens.

"You're so annoying, angel brat! Always spoiling all the fun I have. I'm finally here in the human world with all its vice and sin, but instead of having the time of my life, I get kept in check by some pathetic virgin?"

The spell Sukuna had over you breaks, and you can finally breathe again, taking a deep lungful of air. The room seems lighter, too, now. You get up, and the first thing you say is:

"He isn't a virgin, trust me."

At the same time as Yuuji says:

"Why do you think I'm a virgin? Just because I'm an angel? You know we have fun in heaven too! We live for love! And that includes physical love. We cherish it. We admire and love each other's bodies. So maybe you are the real virgin here because I don't think there's much love down in your hellhole!"

"Let me tell you that I have a whole castle full of succubi and incubi at my beck and call."

"Oh wow, great, a demon joy house. It must be so amazing to know they only share their bodies with you because you order them to or because they want to get something out of it. Don't you want to feel loved? It's so much nicer when someone comes to you willingly and wants to show you how much they love you! When someone wants to please you and make you happy without a selfish reason!"

You see a bellicose twinkle in both their eyes. It makes you gulp hard as it is a reminder that they are both extremely powerful beings who once fought in a war on different sides. A war which Yuuji's side won, and that resulted in Sukuna and his companions getting cast from heaven. So it's no wonder that they are so quickly at each other's throats. The angel and the fallen angel.

"Boys, could you stop, please! I think we all get it. No one in this room is a virgin anymore, and that's perfectly fine. It would be fine too, though, if one of us was still a virgin. Ok? Please calm down, both of you."

Yuuji's gaze meets yours, and his golden eyes soften visibly.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll be nice."

His sunshine smile is back on his handsome face as his hand wanders from Sukuna's shoulder up to his jaw, cupping your devil's chin and tilting his head back, so the demon looks up at the angel standing behind the couch.

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch the scene before you. They look so beautiful together. Your angel and your devil. Light and dark, love and desire, heaven and hell.

The air becomes charged with tension. Sukuna and Yuuji are caught in their very own little dance. A game of power. You realize at that moment that dominance and submission aren't a defined line between them. Because as much as you feel that Sukuna is the dominant one, the one who takes, and Yuuji is the one who gives, you can't quite say who is in the lead here.

Your sweet angel seems to be able to deal with the shady devil pretty well. Which is a good thing, considering that they are here to help you make the best decisions.

You watch in fascination as the smirk on Sukuna's face turns into an amused smile as he stays in the same position, head tilted back, the angel's hand cupping his chin. And Yuuji leans down until his lips brush against the demon's ear.

"Doesn't it feel nice when someone touches you tenderly?"

His thumb brushes over Sukuna's lower lip, caressing it gently. And the angel breaths a soft kiss on the demon's ear.

"Don't you want to know what it's like when someone makes love to you instead of just letting you take them?"

By now, his hand has tilted Sukuna's face to the side, and Yuuji is leaning over him, closer and closer until his lips touch Sukuna's forehead in a slow, tender kiss.

Your devil laughs at that, and one of his hands darts up in lightspeed to wrap around the back of Yuuji's neck. His pointy black nails dig into the soft tan skin, holding the angel boy in place.

Sukuna's forked and tattooed tongue licks a wet trail over Yuuji's throat, flicking against his adam's apple teasingly and then further up over his chin and the corner of his lips. He stops when he reaches the angel's earlobe, which he takes lightly between his canines.

Like a cat that has your hand in its mouth, not yet biting but warning you to stop what you've been doing before it will be forced to hurt you.

He growls against Yuuji's skin:

"No thanks, angel brat. Making love sounds boring to me. I'd rather fuck you and our little human senseless."

His words make desire throb in your deepest core, and you think you hear a soft moan coming from Yuuji. But then the devil chuckles and lets go of the angel before adding:

"You better hurry up, brats. The little human has to be at work in half an hour, and as much as we hate that workplace, we always have to ensure to be there punctually, so the people in charge have nothing to use against us. The devil is an excellent businessman, my darling. So you better learn to listen to me."

Your devil sounds arrogant and commanding, but you think his voice has a softer tone now, and somehow you feel that your angel knows all too well how to handle his counterpart.

It makes you smile to yourself as you make your way to the kitchen to grab some breakfast before leaving for work. And today, you know that you have your personal angel and devil at your proposal anytime you need them. So maybe it will finally be a good day at work.

Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of my contribution to the Heaven and Hell collab! I had so much fun writing for the angel and devil theme! Yuuji is such a perfect (guardian) angel to me! I got so emotional and had so many butterflies while writing about him awww. And Sukuna is a very sexy devil who might be a bit softer for reader and Yuuji than he lets on at first :) He's from the seventh circle of hell, the circle of violence. I picked that because it suited Sukuna, in my opinion, and that circle has a blood river, which reminds me of Sukuna's domain.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! Please let me know your thoughts! Comments and reblogs make me very happy!

CHAPTER 2

THE START OF SOMETHING AMAZING

You stared into nothingness, tuning in the gentle sighs of the trees and the trilling of rain frogs, before comprehending the gloomy skies. Your breath in the petrichor smells and let the tepid breeze flutter through your now unruly hair—it was rather serene. You took your bags from the dampened ground and approached the aged cottage, your stomach was already churning with the feeling of anticipation. Your hand takes the knob and effortlessly the door gives away.

“It was unlocked!?” You thought, easing past the door and heaving as dust wafts you in the face. You glanced over the place, spotting the furniture that was covered by worn sheets. You grab a fist full of a sheet and jerk it away, unveiling a vintage sofa.

“Wow.” You awed quietly, running your fingers along the velvety cushion. You settled down on the edge of the sofa, trying out the comfiness of it. You then laid back and rested your head, pleased. Exhaling, you aroused from your spot and dragged your bags closer to you. You probed around your bags, fetching your journal and utensils.

You pulled the door shut behind you, giving it an extra tug to ensure the door stayed closed. You neared closer to the forest, stopping at the verge, and gaped up at the continuous canopy of trees. You had overheard many tales from your colleagues about this seemingly normal woodland, one of them being about a man who was drunkenly dared to enter the forest by one of his buddies. When the man reappeared from the forest, he was shaken with fear and his lips were trembling as his fumble out the same words incessantly: “it’s coming for me, that damned winged creature, it’s gonna fucking kill me!”

Your reasoning for being here wasn’t just to figure out what unworldly beings that the forest withhold, maybe you were considerably curious, but you wanted to discover an uncommon mushroom that was rumored by many of your colleagues. Its appearance is of an ink cap mushroom, though its color differs and is bluish with hints of magenta, and it possessed many healing properties. From what you read, it was given the name Polifious Pinian.  

 Even with those ominous stories being told, you were unbothered, and were ready to embrace whatsoever the forest threw at you so you could make that rumor true. Without a shadow of hesitation, you began your foraging. The fungi was known to grow at the roots of pines. So you lingered around them, inspecting their roots for any indications of spores.

The sky was already gloaming and thus far there were no indicators. Your shoulders slouched and just before you were about to return to the cottage, a glimmer caught your eye. You wandered over to the object, it resemble a tiara. It appeared to be crafted from limbs and leaves that protruded from the head piece, it was also accompanied by a pearl embedded in waned silver.  

‘Swoosh!’ 

You Flinched, stumbling onto your bottom. “W-what the-” 

Your eyes skimmed your vicinity, though you didn’t see anything but you could feel it. You slowly turned, your skin prickling at the eerie tension, expecting to see two other eyes but still there was nothing—not even an critter. You pushed yourself from the ground, snatching the tiara up, and darted in the direction of the cottage. Whispers then began to swarm you, clouding your senses in a way. 

“Give it back, girl!” 

You yanked the front door open, slamming it shut hastily, and yet those insistent words remained in in the back of your mind. You crouched down and you covered your ear with your hands. 

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!” You repeacted, your murmuring voice coming to shout. 

In that position, you resided trying to ease your pounding heart and shallow breaths. You raised from the hardwood floor and creeped towards the kitchen; taking a glass and filling it with water and ice. Your trembling hand brings the glass to your lips and you took couple of swigs of it, somehow it diminished the adrenaline and anxieties. You then sat the cup down and left to the bedroom, ending your night without being the prey. 

//Word Count: 706//

//Published: May 16, 2022//

amelia my love! I have a request, so I’m going to travel to visit family in Mexico soon. So I was wondering if you could write some headcanons for me. I have really bad flight anxiety and i have to drink some heavy anxiety meds that make me all woozy. So can you write on how bakugou would comfort his gf who is very anxious about flying. thank you sm I’m advance :) !!!

sending you lots of love and hugs lovely <3

i love you smooch smooch <3

I had to look up symptoms of anxiety (bc i’m not sure if i have it or not) but i really hope i did this right

Girlfriend that’s anxious about flying

masterlist

bakugou x fem!reader

He would try to make you as calm as possible the days leading up to your flight, trying to get you to cuddle with him, have you watch movies to take your mind off of it, make your favorite meals.

Your man bkg is riiich rich so you already know he has that private plane so that you didn’t have to sit next to insufferable strangers while you were already having a hard time.

Holds your hand the entire way. He just wants you to know that he’s there with you and as long as that’s the case you’re safe.

He will notice you start to get jittery before the plane takes off, bouncing your leg up and down frantically, and he will nest his hand on your thigh to gently get you to stop while whispering how “you’re doin so good, pretty. so good”

Once you seem to be scatterbrained he will take the liberty to let you pick out a movie, any movie you want to watch and he’ll watch it while holding you.

Once your movie is over however you are immediately reminded of your current situation but your so tired. And he sees your eyes fluttering then jolting back open desperately trying to not fall asleep. So he will tell you stories to make your mind feel at ease so you can finally get some shut eye

Makes sure that you’re drinking water and eating your food. He prepacked your favorite snacks for you to munch on because he’ll be damned if your anxious and hungry.

His poor girl just wants to get there already so she can get off this damn plane :( he’s never wanted to kill an inanimate object more than at this moment.

When the plane has some turbulence you’re practically shaking in his hold as you bury your head in his chest trying to make the bad thoughts go away. “‘S okay sweets, just a bit of turbulence we’re gonna be fine. Happens on all flights. Okay?” to which you nod your head still clutching onto his shirt.

When you start to feel nauseous he will personally escort you to the bathroom and just be there with you in case you do throw up. (he is NOT letting you throw up in one of those barf bags they give you. yuck.)

Overall he is very good at taking care of you when you get like this because it’s apart of his boyfriendly duties 😤 and he just wants the best for his pretty girl.

TAGS 🏷:

@trafalgar-lau @mybabekatsuki @loving-katsuki @ariavaana @melaniebakugo

you’re thinking about him and his boobs, aren’t you