Yes, Some Writers Put "request Open" Either Where In The Title (where They Usually Put Their Name) Or

Yes, some writers put "request open" either where in the Title (where they usually put their name) or in the description or where they have their masterlist<3

Thank you for your help lmao I'm not the brightest. It's really nice of you !

He's a liar, open your eyes !

Hi There. Would You Be Willing To Write A Fic Where Ethan Landry And The Reader (female) Are Friends?

Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

Masterlist if you want to read my other things.

CW/TW: description of a dead body, kidnapping, mention of suicide(not you), manipulation, voyeurism, insults

I feel like it's too repetitive. I don't know why my things always end up being so long. (03/07/2023) (9062 words)

Damn, why does this lesson has to be so hard ? You don't understand a thing ! Hell, that's why Ethan's here. Seriously what even is economic policies ? Did you learn that ? The teacher keep telling everyone this chapter was taught last year. How ?

Ethan comes back ten long minutes later from the bathroom, a sheepish smile on. His cheeks are red and he wears an almost stupid smile. You never saw someone so happy to use the bathroom before.

You notice something poking from his pocket. Did he really take a piss with a pen in his pocket ? He can chill, you're not going to steal it from him... Though, you smile at him fondly, softened by his nerdy behaviour.

"Did you make progress ? He asks.

-You're really asking ?"

You notice that his hair are a little disheveled. It's probably time to pack your things. You've been talking for a while now. He laughs slightly at your irony.

"You really don't know how to wash your hands, do you?"

His face flash you a deep shade of red as he looks down at his pant. You weren't really making fun of him. You just found it funny how he had a single water stain beside his zipper. Embarrassed, he hide the spot with his hands.

He quickly sits back at his place. Immediatly abandoning your lesson, you put it away. Your whole attention back onto him. You were previously gossiping about this man in your class. Rumor has it that he sleeps with his teachers for good grades. Ethan and you were trying to figure out if it was true or not.

It wasn't that important but it allowed you to talk freely. Ethan and you were close but weren't hanging out together that often. But he was really nice and an excellent friend, you liked to talk to him mindlessly like now.

"But on the other side he could juste be a good student. I can't really tell... Plus, some teachers actually don't really like him. You ever saw him be weird around a teacher?"

You noticed it but had tried not to embarrass him by asking but Ethan was acting a little different. As if in his own world, in a bliss you couldn't quite understand. He was looking at you with a fond smile and hadn't uttered a word. Differently from before.

"Are you okay ?" You decide to ask.

You almost feel bad for getting him out of his bubble. He widens his eyes, stuttering things you don't understand before sighing.

"Actually I....

-Yes ?

-I just wanted to let you know that..."

You look at Ethan, smiling to encourage him to continue. You don't quite get why he's suddenly back to his shy demeanor. He was doing pretty well until then.

"It-its... Like... We, the-the both of us, we've known each other for a really long time now and uh..."

When he was finally going to spit his thoughts, the door of your apartement open wide. Ethan stops abrutptly talking while you divert your attention from him. Your boyfriend was here. He didn't told you he was coming but you were at a stage in your relation which you didn't need to. Your boyfriend of almost one year stare nastily at Ethan seated next to you. You sigh, he knew Ethan would come today, you had told him. Why is he being so mean about it ?

You were supposed to be studying for a group project but when you started talking about a book you read, Ethan and you did nothing but study. Book talk turned into gossiping and finally nothing was done. You talked for hours about everything and anything. Then, there was a long silence before Ethan looked like he had something really big to tell you.

"Hi, didn't know he was still here. says your jaded boyfriend.

Here we go again... You clench your jaw, sensing he was going at it, for the umpteenth time.

-Do you need that many times to study? he says in a false disinterest.

-Yes, we do." you say coldly.

He was being rude and you didn't like it. Ethan was your friend. The least he deserved was respect. You invited him here. He was a guest. If anything, your boyrfriend should be rude to you.

"It's pretty dark outside, man. You should go. it was a fake advice, he wanted him to go.

Before you could lecture him about his rudeness, Ethan stands up. He gathers his things, eyes avoiding yours and cheeks red. You look disappointly at your boyfriend.

-Ethan you don't have to go, we can...

-N-no it's okay, it's late anyway, I'm... I'm gonna go. See you tomorrow ?" he tells you in a small voice.

You sigh out his name, embarrassed that your boyfriend would throw him out like that. So you decide to accompany him outside. You spent the few minutes of the route apologizing. He ketp saying it was okay, laughing lightly. But he was still meek. You were scared the bad behaviour of your boyfriend had made him distant. Bitterly, you let him walk away not without apologizing once again to him. You had to make it up to him later.

It was weird. Your boyfriend wasn't the posessive type, at all. You could go out butt naked that he'd tell that you're pretty. You could have as many friends as you wanted, male or female. He was normal, a normal man and your relationship was sane. But as soon as Ethan was mentionned, he was acting like this.

Your boyfriend thought he was playing the victim on purpose. According to him, Ethan wanted to separate you both. He was making your boyfriend the evil monster of the story when in reality, Ethan was manipulating you. You didn't know where he invented all that but it wasn't funny.

Ethan was an old friend. Old because you had known him for a long time. He wasn't exactly your bestfriend but you knew if you had some serious problem, he'd be happy to help. And vice versa. He was nice and never hurt anyone.

When you two met, his laces were undone and he fell on you. It was the 'worst day of his life'. You've know each other for years, now. But your boyfriend still wasn't trusting him.

When you enter back your apartement, nothing changed. He was stil in the middle of the livingroom, arms crossed on his chest. A scowl on the face. You slam the door shut.

"Seriously, what's wrong with you ? you immediatly start.

-I swear on my life I saw him smile. When you weren't looking he...

-Shut it, I'm tired. Don't wanna argue." you say, closing your eyes. Wanting to avoid a headache.

He says nothing, noticing your really tired expression. Compassionate, he opens his arms. Although hesitating at first, you dive right in. Angry but still loving him. You'd talk another day. Maybe understand where this hatred he hold against Ethan come from.

The next morning, everything was already forgotten. Well, not entirely. You were late and didn't have time to question your partner. You were both in a rush, grabbing breakfast to eat on the way and running to your class. Still, you knew you needed to have a talk with him. But it had to wait for now.

Frowning your brows in the bathroom, you tamper everywhere near the sink and the drawer but still can't find your toothbrush. You call out to your boyfriend in the kitchen. Asking him if he saw it or touched it recently. Though you don't understand why he would move your stuff.

"Where did you last put it? he asks, the question was silly but you appreciate his will to help. Why would you put your toothbrush anywhere else than in your damn bathroom ?

-On the sink, as usual."

It's weird though, you already lost it twice this month. Well, you got other one but if you could keep them as long as possible that'd be nice. You could've sworn you put it on the sink ! Where the hell did it go ? You really are tired.

Anyway, you think, you have to go. You and your boyfriend depart from the apartment and quickly arrive at destination. You kiss each other goodbye, and separate from each other. Thursday is usually a tough day since you can't see him much. But he promised you he was sleeping at your place tonight, too.

The day was a boring one. Nothing to entertain yourself. You went to your class, you took notes, you left class and so on. Even your friends were dying of boredom. Your boyfriend and yourself didn't get to spend much time with each other today as he was studying. But finally, you could go home. He sent you a text ten minutes ago, asking you to wait for him beside the entrance. And you did.

You only wanted one thing, go home and sleep. You stretch your muscles and sigh of tiredness. He usually is done studying at five on thursday. You juste have to wait five to ten minutes more.

You take out your phone to mindlessly scroll on it when a curly head appear in your field of view. Ethan already saw you, he's waving shyly at you. You smile happily and put your phone back in your pocket. Walking towards him, you observe how he seems so tired.

"Rough day ?" you ask him and he chuckles lightly, nodding his head. "You're okay, still ?

-Yes, don't worry. I'm fine. And you? Did you have a nice day ? It was cute how eager he was to talk to his friends, nervermind his state.

-I'm always fine when you're so kind to me. He smiles sheepishly, looking to the ground. You hope he understood you were joking and you didn't make him uneasy. Are you waiting someone ?

-Oh, yeah. I'm actually waiting for Chad to...." He trails off while looking at something behind you, his smile fading.

Worried, you furrow your brows before turning around only to see your boyfriend. Your smile instantly comes back. You would have hugged him if Ethan wasn't here. You weren't too much of a fan of PDA. Your partner's face seem closed, weird considering he's always happy when you're going home.

"Let's get home. he simply says.

Can't he see you're talking to someone ? You waited a few minutes for him, he can do the same.

-Wait a moment I'm talking to... he interrupted you, without listening to your words.

-I'm really tired, babe. Let's get home, now.

-We're all tired, I'm just asking you to wait a few...

-Just let's get home. he says coldy and you stop talking.

You look at him sternly. Since when does he give you any orders ? Since when does he forces you to listen to him? You have the right to talk to your friend, why does he deter you to do so ? You just want to talk to your friend two more minutes, is that too much to ask ?

-She doesn't want to, you can't force her... try Ethan, wanting to support you.

-Don't fucking talk to her, okay? he snap. You're not part of the damn conversation so just stay the fuck out of it. I know who the hell you are and what you're doing. Don't fucking talk to us you sociopath. you almost could see the smoke coming out of his ears.

Your heart stop seeing Ethan so humiliated and a ringing echo through your body. You were speechless. That's it, you decide. He doesn't have any right to talk to someone like that. He has to calm down because you are not staying with a violent man, whether he is towards you or someone else ! You step before Ethan to face your partner. You never saw him raise his voice at someone before but you don't like it.

-What the hell is wrong with you?

First he's rude to him when he's litteraly a guest and now he plainly insult him ? You were going to apologize to Ethan but when you searched him, you realized he disappeared. Fuck, you thought, he was that affected ? You can't blame him, you'd probably be as insulted as him in his case. But now you just feel like the worst person ever.

-Why do you hate Ethan so much?

He opens his mouth, searching his words as if not knowing where to begin. His eyes were screaming obviousness. As if for him, every reasons were easy to find to justify his hate.

-Because he's a creep. he agitates his hands to prove his point. Open your eyes, can't you see he's flirting with you ? He's trying to separate us !

-I guarantee you he's not. He's just shy! He's like that with everyone! You're seeing things ! You know what ? I won't tolerate your disrespect any longer. You ever saw me insult your friends ? No, never. Then why do you feel free to do so ? Seriously what is wrong with you ?

He is taken aback by the seriousness you take to discuss this subject. It's not even about Ethan anymore, it's simply about his rude behaviour. He needs to understand that you are not forgiving everything just because you're together.

-He's not just shy. He's really really creepy. He's constantly staring at you. He's on the verge of drooling ! He's sending me fucking death glare ! I tried to override it but it's been one year ! He did not change !

You almost laughed out loud. Ethan ? Sending death glare ? He can't even look at poeple in the eyes. Threathening them ? Just unimaginable. He's inventing things again and it's terribly annoying.

-Will you stop ?

-How can I stop ? He hates my guts ! he softens his tone. I love you, okay ? I'm incredibly in love with you and that's why this guy get me worried sick. He is not normal. If we were in a horror movie, he'd be the type to hide bodies in his basement ! I swear he hides something.

It's true that you don't know Ethan that much. But right now, he wasn't in your mind. You were only thinking about the fact that your boyfriend wanted to forbid you something. And that was the problem. He could tell you to be careful, to avoid being alone with him. But not ordering you to stay away from him. You weren't a child. And you're not stupid, you know the people your befriend. If Ethan was weird, you would have seen it by now.

-I love you too, you said heartly. Really. But Ethan is a nice guy. If he tries anything, I'll tell you right away. But I am not stopping from seeing him. You can't tell me what to do. You know that.

Your boyfriend clench his jaw but nods reluctantly. He doesn't like this deal but if he contradicts you, the argument will worsen and he didn't want that right now. You tried to share the wrongs, even if you find it difficult in your side as you don't know what you did, to ease the situation. You loved your boyfriend, you didn't want it to end on a stupid quarrel. Though, you knew you probably hurt him by doubting of him.

You'd ask him to apologize to your friend but it would be too much and you thought he'd do it himself when everything calmed down. Eventually. You came back home without him, crashing on your couch face first and breathing in it for a few minutes before getting up.

You were overthinking so much your head was hurting you. After a burning shower to ease your nerves (it didn't work), you decided to call Ethan to ensure he was okay. Guilt was eating you alive. You needed to apologize. He left before you could do so.

After the first ring, Ethan picks up. You panic. You don't really know what to say now, you hoped he wouldn't pick up so you could just leave a vocal message. You thought that a simple text wasn't enough and don't show the honesty of your words.

"Hey. he says as awkwardly as in real life.

You didn't know where to begin.

-You're okay? you ask and you hate yourself for asking that so bluntly.

He doesn't answer. You were thinking back on the face he made after being insulted, the humiliation, the utter mortification he felt. Your words are nothing, the wrong is already done. But you hope they'll help him feeling better. Even if just a little. Ethan is silent.

-Listen, I... you start.

Better apologize now before he hates you too.

-I'm sorry about my boyfriend. Like really. I... I don't know why he's acting like that. I talked to him but...

-It's okay, I'm used to it by now, you know ?

Guilt wasn't even enough to express your feelings. He's used to it ? That's not reassuring at all. In fact, you want the ground to open under you, to chew and swallow you. You were a horrible friend for letting your partner lower his self esteem like this.

-God, don't say that... It sounds horrible.

He laughs but he's not amused.

-If he does it again, and I hope he won't but just in case, you can bite back. You can insult him, too. I can give you insults he doesn't like if you want !"

This time, he truly laughed. A real chuckle and you were happy. You were happy your friend didn't hate you. You continued to talk long time after that. Eventually, you hung up, feeling tired. But with a smile nonetheless as you knew things were slowly getting better.

The next morning, you did your routine. With your new toothbrush in hand, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You had bags under your eyes. You were happy the week end was coming. Tomorrow is saturday, the week is finally completed. You felt enough stress for a whole month after that. You needed to rest.

You spit in the sink and wash your mouth with water. Raising your head again, you look if you still have toothpaste on your face when your body freeze. Are you dreaming or is there something behind your mirror ? You swear you just saw a red dot flashes.

You stop moving completly, eyes glued to the mirror. Three minutes pass wihtout anything new. Are you really that tired ?

Maybe it's just the reflection of the twinkling fire protection system ? The point is red too, after all. In any case, you're tired. You don't need others problems for today. You'll have to ask your boyfriend about it. If he stops sulking. Either way, you're curious. You'll try to take off the mirror another time. Tonight maybe, if you don't forget about it until then.

Later this day, you still hadn't talk to your boyfriend and the mirror thing had disappeared from your mind. As if life wanted to keep you occupied to avoid thinking about your problems, the morning classes were only tests. You hoped you did good because it didn't fell like it.

It was already noon and you were searching for your friends. They told you they'd be waiting for you in the cafeteria. You came out late of your last class so you needed to speed up a little. The halways are already crowded at this hour, more than usually it is. You sigh thinking about the long journey you'll have to make to join your friends. You'll have to dodge every rushing students, find your ways through everyone and hope something is good in the today's menu.

You start searching for someone you know in the crowd to mentally support you on this long day and you recognize the tall curly man named Ethan going to the bathroom in the opposite direction of yours. Damn, you sigh, you wanted to ask him if he could send you his notes for econ.

You texted your friends, saying that you'll meet up with them later. Your boyfriend still hadn't text you. He was mad at you, after all. In your opinion, you did nothing wrong. He's the one who put a target on Ethan's back. You recognize one can be jealous but damn, he can't disrespect your friend like that forever. He can't make hasty assumptions on people and then forbiding you to talk to them.

That's why you wanted someone to accompagny you to the cafeteria. Now, you're alone with your thoughts and you're overthinking. You didn't allow him to explain himself, but on the other side he didn't really try to. His reasons are unfounded. He was quite closed up on the subject.

You do not have to appreciate someone but why does he hate him ? That's another level. He even called Ethan a sociopath ! Why ? The common area wasn't so far from you anymore. You grab your phone, ready to send a text to your friends when someone suddenly rush into you. Your phone fall on the ground and you curse under your breath.

Looking up, the person already left. You grab your phone quickly and search behind you to know who pushed you this hard, only to see some curly hair, again. Wait, if you saw him going in the opposite direction, how did he end up stumbling on you ? He ran or something ?

-Ethan? you call after him and he stops in his track. you approach him. Why are you in such a rush... Oh.

And then you see it, the pink spot stuck in his hair. Gum, Ethan has gum in his hair. Obviously, it wasn't supposed to be here. You understand his embarrassment now, you wouldn't like to be seen like this too.

-Oh, Ethan...

At your change of tone, he reluctantly moves his body in your direction and lift his gaze towards you. An embarrassed expression clearly on display. You're suddenly really close to him staring at his stuck hair.

-Its... It's nothing, really ! He laughs awkwardly. I'll get it off, eventually.

-No, come here. you wanted to make it quick as to avoid him being stared at by people.

Head low in shame, Ethan follows you to the bathroom where you wetted his hair as much as you could. You thought that if you helped him, he'd understand that you're really not okay with your boyfriend's ideas of him. By helping him, you show him that you're still his friend and you're sorry for the behaviour of your partner. Acts are louder than words. Ethan's head was heavy in your hands, as if he was resting it against your palm. He probably was but your hair were a calming area for you too, so you understand. When your boyfriend scratch your head, you're out like a light.

-How did you get gum in here ?

He doesn't answer. The worst was already on your mind; is Ethan bullied ? You're not in highschool anymore but people are still mean and Ethan is a perfect target, he's a shy guy with little friends. He's usually the kind of people meanie make fun of.

-Did someone do this ? you ask while untangling his curls.

Ethan lower his face, eyes staring straight onto your phone screen where a picture of you and your boyfriend was on display. His gaze staying a little too long on your partner's face. With a bitter laugh, he shakes his head.

-You won't like the answer."

Something deep in you was telling you your boyfriend had something to do with it. After all, it was as if Ethan was giving you hints at this point. But you still believed in the kindness of your partner. He was never mean, physically at least. He wouldn't hurt a fly. But at the same time, he changed a lot recently, surprising you and not really in a good way. Could it really be him ? Ethan saw your hesitation since he smiles sympatheticly, understanding you.

"Don't be too mean on him, it's not important anyway. It's just gum."

And it was all you needed to hear before calling your boyfriend as soon as gum was out of the way. You asked him to come to your place when his classes were done.

Ethan texted you later on with all the sincerity in the world, 'is he violent with you? you can talk to me, you know? He can't force you to do anything. i'm here for you.' His words triggered certains thoughts in you, thinking that yeah, he wasn't like this when you first talked to him. And that's how every violent man start. By establishing rules in a relationship. Rules only relevant to one person in the couple. By getting angry more often.

By manipulating you with your feelings. It was too soon to really know if he was in fact getting violent but at the same time you didn't want to stay long to discover it.

When he came home this night, he knew something was off. You were seated on the couch, staring at the black screen of the TV. Your arms were crossed over your chest. Tonight was the big talk time.

As soon as the door slam shut, you start.

"Where were you at noon ?

He rises a brow, laughing nervously at your sudden question. He didn't even get the time to place down his bag.

-At my club ? You know I'm always there at this time.

You were afraid he was lying to you. One of your friend, in the same club as him, joke to you about how your arguments got to him so hard that he didn't even bother to come. Well, she said that she herself didn't stay long today but that's all you needed to know. He wasn't at the club.

-I didn't see you, that's all.

-You came to see me ? I was late. I joined the club ten or fifteen minutes later. Something happened?

You wonder if you should just spit it out. It would take a weight off your shoulders and appease your nerves. Yes, you'll just spit it out. You need answers.

-Ethan, as soon as his name leave your mouth he sighs, yeah, exactly, him, again. Someone put gum in his hair today. It was impossible to get rid off. One day after you insulted him. Crazy coincidence.

-Are you accusing me ? he asks in disbelief. You invited me over to argue ?

-I just want to hear where you were at noon today.

-It's not me, okay ? he says in a defensive tone. I don't like him but I'm not an asshole. I know he's your friend, I wouldn't do that to him.

-I know, but recently you've been acting really weird around him so I'm starting to ask questions. I'm going to ask this once and I want you to be honest with me. you take a pause, gauging his reaction. he simply waits for you to continue. Are you the one bullying Ethan ?

-I'm not ! Hell, why would I do that !

He's hurt seeing you so little convinced. He shakes his head and frown his brows. He's standing right before you now. He's panicked as if he knows your relationship depends on this discussion.

-I get it now, he says seriously. He accused me, right ? I don't blame you for listening to him, he's a good friend to you, okay. I get that. But he's sabotaging your life, he's sabotaging our relationship. You can't just believe everything he says. I don't like him, that's a fact. But I never put shit in his hair. And I never will. Don't you understand what's happening ?

He kneels before you and takes your hands in his, his warmth enveloping your body. He looks up at you with pretty sad eyes and you know you won't last long.

-Each time we argue, it's because of him. It's because he's always stuck to you, because he always does or says something.

-Or because you hold a stupid grudge toward him for no reason.

-No reason ? He gives me the creep !

-That's what I'm saying, you have no reason ! contradicting him allowed you to avoid looking into his eyes. Because if you did, you'd forgive him far too quickly.

-Baby, please, listen to me. He's not what he makes you think he is. He's a vicious manipulator. I can't prove it now with anything else than my words but I'll prove it to you. I don't know how yet but I promise. He sounded so desperate he had you doubting about everthing.

-I have to think about it."

Even though he wanted to convince you more, he understood your state of mind and decided not to push his luck. Sadly, he let go of your hand. And that was it.

He did not sleep here tonight, either.

When you woke up, you felt alone for the first time in a while. A bitter feeling lingering in your throat. All day, you stayed in bed scrolling on your phone. It was saturday, you usually go out with your friends but you were not in the mood today.

After emptying your head and forgetting your feelings on social media for hours, you decided you couldn't stay angry at your partner for an eternity. So you sent him a text offering him to come tonight to discuss. He accepted surprisingly quickly. You spent the rest of the day cleaning your apartment. As if it was your first date and you wanted to make a good first impression.

You just wanted to spend a chill night with your man.

A movie was already planned for his arrival. You had cleaned every spot of your house. You were wore and now wanted to relax. Weirdly enough, something in you was telling you that the night wouldn't be as relawing as you wanted it to be. You didn't really know why. Maybe you'd be arguing again ? Maybe he'd leave you ?

You couldn't quite pinpoint the feeling you had.

You check your phone one last time, 'i'm almost there' he texted. But his message was sent already fifteen minutes ago. And the way to your apartment clearly wasn't that long. You decided to waste time until he eventually arrives by going to the nearest store. He had your keys anyway, if you arrive after him. You'd buy snacks to eat together there. And so that's what you did. You bid bye to the cashier and went back on your path. Suddenly, you realized how late it is. The alley was really dusky. Was it that dark when you left ?

You grab your phone, still no responses. What's taking him so long ?

Walking slowly in the dead of the night, you hear nothing but car in the background. Your own feet echo in the alley, you hit a bottle that's sent against the wall and you jolt before cursing. You're paranoid. Nothing's here. You grab once again your phone, no answer. He still isn't here ? Okay, maybe you're impatient here. But twenty minutes to arrive ? It's usually fifteen at best !

Deepening yourself slowly down the alley, you start to hear muffled voices. Two people. You hope it's not creepy men who'll follow you. Though, you're sure it isn't when the voices seem to be arguing.

You stop walking, trying to understand if you were in danger or not. It would be really stupid to get involved in a gang fight or simply in a fight. You though the two men would be drunk, since people arguing in a dark alley in night isn't that common for sober people(well, in your opinion), but they were not.

Approaching slowly, you realise you understand every one of the words they're echanging. Though, it's not reassuring.

"I always knew you were a fucked up little bitch..." you hear someone hiss.

Now what's happening ? It's getting scary. The more horrific part was probably that the voice sounded familiar to you. But it was distored and far away so you weren't sure. Either way, you needed to cross this alley. Your home was just a few meters further.

Holding your breath, you look at the ground, eyes glued to the pavement below you. You have nothing to do with this and you don't want to deal with it. But when you heard a scream of pain, your body jolt. Shaking from head to toe, you stop on your track. Your heart is beating too fast for your own good, your blood is pulsing. Slowly, your head turn towards the alley. What you saw at this moment was probably the worst sight you could have encountered in your life.

On the ground, a dead body. Eyes staring straight at you. His back was against the wall, blood dripping from his neck which was cut clean. He was shirtless and even though you didn't want to look at it, you knew his chest was covered in scars. But what's finally killed you is that you recognized his face.

It was your boyfriend.

Breathing becomes hard, you tug at your shirt, pupils slowly drowning in your tears. You couldn't look away. But you had to when someone step on a piece of glass. You jolt, searching for the responsible. Your senses on high alert. Everything in you were yelling at you to run but your legs were like jelly. It was a miracle you were still standing.

And that's when you saw it. Someone. You couldn't see their face but for some reason you knew they were watching you. Without diverting your gaze from them, you grab your phone from your back pocket, stepping back to put distance between you. The person calls your name and unfortunatly you recognize his voice.

"E-Ethan?" you ask with a watery and cracked voice.

You shake your head, slowly stepping back while he comes closer. You finally see his face. There's blood splattered on his face and he own a shiny knife in hand. It's straight out of a horror movie.

"Baby, it's not safe to wander around here at such a late hour. he laughs, surprisingly brightly for the situation.

-Ethan did you..." weakly, you point at the body in the alley behind him.

He's just smiling. He tilts his head to the side, staring at you longingly. Blood was dripping from his knife. Fuck, you need to run, right now. Sensing life coming back to your body, you bolt to the opposite direction. You hear him yell your name but you don't look back to see where he is. You rush to a place you hope will be full of people. There, you coud call for help.

Your rush, feeling every one of your muscle giving the best they have. You're out of breath, you already fell on the ground twice and hurt yourself but didn't bother stopping. Ethan was still yelling your name in your back, his voice getting progressivly more angry and desperate.

You weren't stopping, you couldn't. You were running haphazardly with your blurry vision, you couldn't see much. He's dead, you think. He's freaking dead. He killed him.

A violent side stitch takes you and you whine from the pain. Your muscles are burning so do each one of your breath. You see a building nearing and accelerate one last time to reach it.

But Ethan is seemingly trained for chasing people as he jumps on you and pin you against the ground. You try to scream but he doesn't allow you to as he maintain your mouth shut with his hand. You can feel his front against your back as you struggle to escape. Ethan hold you firmly against him, his weight on you guaranteeing you stay put.

"Why are you running? It's me. It's just me." you could hear the smile in his voice even though he's out of breath.

He was far too happy ! Did he plan this all along ? A million thoughts were racing in your head. Was that what your boyfriend saw in him ? Was that real ? Were you going to die ? You're crying all the water of your body at this point but Ethan doesn't say anything about it. You know he's ravished in the imbalance of power.

"It was supposed to be for the damn parasite, but I never could stand him anyway."

You don't have time to think about who or what he's talking about that a faint sting in your neck make you wince. A burning liquid propagate in your veins. Your vision soon become watery and blurry. Your body stop struggling and everything in you is numb.

"Sleep well now." was all you heard before black out.

When you woke up, (hours, days later ?) everything was pitch black around you. Even though you knew your eyes were open. What's happening ? Last night, you were at the local store buying things for your boyfriend and now you're here. Here, but where ?

You slowly start to realise something hides your view from the light and that your hands are tied up in your back. You couldn't move them at all, they were tightly attached with both scotch and cable tie. It was a miracle blood was still flowing. Or the person who attached you knew exactly how to do it. This thought was terrifying.

Your head aches trying to remember the last event but eventually you get the answer you needed. Ethan fucking Landry. He was in that alley with you. Tears brims your eyes at the reminder of your boyfriend. Your dead boyfriend. What will happen now ?

In your desperate state, you don't hear when someone enters the room. It's when a hand is put on your thight that you jolt and struggle to move. Trying to escape, the cable tie shear your wrists.

"You're gonna hurt yourself, love. Don't do that please."

The voice stops you. It was the same tender voice Ethan used to talk to you before. Ethan, shit, you spent the last few weeks arguing with your boyfriend over him, just for him to fucking kill him. Why is he doing this ? What did you do to him ? Can't he just kill you ? Is he so twisted that he needs to torture you ? It's all your fault, you should have listened to him. Ethan is a monster.

Tears are running down your cheeks, they're salty and sting a little. Ethan sees them and dry them with his thumbs. He tries to shush you but it don't work. Then, he decides to take off the cloth hiding your view. Upon seeing him, you burst into tears. You struggle, moving your whole body, trying to move the chair on which you're on. Crying more when he tries to touch you.

-No no no babe it's me! Don't freak out ! He laughs happily. It's just me, okay ? Everything's fine.

You were going to scream if he didn't interrupt you by roughly clading his palms against your lips. Your tears are no longer staining your chin, now flowing onto his fingers. You don't really understand the situation to be honest. Yesterday, Ethan was a really nice and polite friend. Why would he be otherwise ?

"That's it, calm down. Stop crying, please. It's okay. I'm here." he slowly part his hand away from your mouth.

You are terribly tired. Your body is numb. Your eyes are sore. You have difficulty breathing since you have a stuffy nose from all the crying. You sniff, blinking trying to get rid of the blurry vision you're having. You're sure you look pitiful but Ethan is looking at you like you're a damn art piece. He's analyzing you.

Ethan smiles. Sitting comfortably in front of you. On a chair he specifically placed here for you to talk. Or him to watch. You seem to be in a kind of garage. There's tools scattered on various worktable. Ethan tilts his head to where you're watching to catch your attention, when your eyes are on him again, he smiles brightly.

"You're comfortable here ? I'm sorry the chair is a little old, I wasn't really prepared. Don't worry I'll give you an armchair, soon. So you'll feel better.

You don't say anything. What does he want from you ? You have nothing left. According to his words, he plans on keeping you here for a while. Why ? He smiles, lifting his hand towards you, you flinch and turn your head.

-Don't look at me like that. he says angrily, his tone suddenly more serious.

Your eyes are back on him. You try to keep your gaze as neural as possible as to not angry him but your real feelings talks for you.

-Like you're scared of me. Like you're angry at me. I know you're not.

Why did you bother defending him. He's dead because of you, fuck, it's your fault ! You should have listened to him ! He told you Ethan was creepy, you should have fucking listened.... Tears are coming again, you try to keep them hidden but fail miserably and start crying all over again. Ethan sighs. He archs his back and lay his elbows on his knees.

-Ok, I guess I owe you an explaination. I'll try and make it quick, I have to go back to the kitchen soon after. I made pastas. Because I don't know if you can eat a lot right now, the medicine I injected you is quite strong. he seems to realise his words as his eyes widens and he agitates his hands agitatedly. It's strong but because it wasn't for you in the first place ! You weren't supposed to be there, don't worry. I'd never hurt you. I just improvised ! But you're gonna be fine. If not, it's okay too ! I can kill myself so we'll still be together !

What was his plan ? He wanted to kidnap your boyfriend ? Why ? What would he have done to him ? What would he have done to you ?

-But uh, love aside, if you feel like you'll throw up, warn me. There's probably a basin here or something. Anyway. I did what was best for you. you burst out crying and shake your head, denying his words. Yes I fucking did ! Okay ? He was a damn loser. I didn't have a choice, you know ? You should have just stayed loyal to me in the first place !

You were terrified. He changed emotions in a fraction of seconds. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you couldn't even move. You couldn't comprehend his words. It was as if he had invented a link between you two you weren't even aware of. As if for him, you've never been friends but much more.

-Stop crying, he's dead. It's too late. Seriously, stop. You didn't even love him ! Why would you keep defending me like that otherwise ? And he humiliated me, that fucker humilated me before you ! You know I can't let that pass. It just had to end.

You were still seeing his face in the alley. He was looking into your eyes, you swear. You just know his face will haunt you untill your death. Never would you have thought Ethan Landry was a fucked up man. Never would you have thought Ethan Landry was thinking about your kidnapping and your boyfriend's death.

You didn't know what to feel. Too many emotions were in your heart. Hate, fear, disdain, grief, anger and sadness. All caused by him.

-It's not my fault, okay ? Stop looking at me like that !

He passes his hand through his hair. He's agitated. Too much for your own good. His hair, you're now sure he puts that damn gum himself. What kind of fucked up manipulator you have to be to do that ? To take your sweet time in creating arguments between two person ?

-I was supposed to come and pick him up. Thus, I would have sent you each one of his fingers in pretty pink enveloppes. I'm sure you would have loved it. But it's even better that you're here. We're always stumbling on each other, right ? Isn't that so cute ? The way we're so magnetic ? he smiles bashfully, like a schoolgirl confessing her love to her crush.

His grabs your legs, you struggle to get away from his hold. Ethan is not amused. His fist tighten considerably around your ankle and you whine from the pain. You're sure he could break it. He stops, laying simply your leg on his tight. The palm of your feet was too far from his tummy for you to hit it. He smiles in seeing you so compliant. You still feel the burning hold he previously exerced on your ankle. How strong is that man ?

He slides his fingers dreamily from your ankle to the highest part of your leg he could touch without bending in two. You were utterly disgusted by his touch knowing it was these same hands which killed your boyfriend.

-It really is fate.

And suddenly he starts using his nails instead of his digits. Not quite hurting you but it was enough to make you understand he was able to. His smile turn bitter.

-It was fate until you decided to betray me by picking someone else. his tone is dark, threatening. Like a murderer. Then it go back to his usual tone and his digits are back on your leg. But I forgive you, you know ? At first, I cried a lot. Because I thought that you didn't love me. But I soon realised that you wanted to test me. You wanted to see me jealous ! And it's okay ! You probably wanted me to make a move on you first... he smiles sheepishly, cheeks red.

What the fuck is he talking about ? You never loved him ! You never tried to test him ! Why does he keep inventing things ? Did you two have the same discussion ? Where does he gets these interpretation from? You're pratically sure it's impossible to declare your love to someone by accident so why does he thinks you're in love with him ?

-Though, I gotta admit I was really sad when you decided to fuck him. Because I understand your testing, but it didn't need to go that far, you know ? You wanted to practice ? Because it really hurt me.

You don't answer. You certainly didn't want to talk about that to him.

-For practice, right ? Tell me it was. You just wanted to practice for when we'd be together ? the death glare he sent you was enough to make you nod, even if he saw it was fake he didn't care. Good, good. I was scared for a sec ! he smiles happily, as if he didn't just threaten you. I'm still a little disappointed, though. We could've learn together but I guess I can't condamn your eagerness.

You needed to get out of here, right now. He could do so much more than just kill you and that thought was terrifying. You were helpless, stuck at his mercy.

-I'm glad you saw the camera I put in your bathroom. Felt like a creep watching you showering. But when you saw it and didn't say anything, that mean you allowed me to do it. Thanks for that. It helped me on the loneliest night.

What the fuck ? You try to remember when you ever saw a damn camera when suddenly it click. Everything click. The thing you thought was a pencil in his pocket when you invited him over, it was your toothbrush. The red point in your mirror, it was him, too.

Every time you brushed your hair, every time youu showered, every time you just lived your damn life, he was here.

You felt like a fool. He had played with you all along. You never saw anything when it was so painfully evident.

-Though once again, you didn't have to bring him in.

He was watching you from the very beginning. There wasn't a moment where you have been alone. Were others cameras in your apartment ? Probably if he knows you made love to your boyfriend.

-Ethan, you start with a shaking voice. His head snap to you, visibly excited to finally hearing you talk to him. Ethan I loved my boyfriend.

-What ? he laughed. No, silly. You do not. I'm the one you love. I'll marry you and everything, you know that.

He was smiling but you knew it wasn't genuine. You needed to talk to him calmly or this could be dangerous for you.

-I don't know you Ethan. I can't love you.

-But you do know me, sweetheart. he smiles while putting your leg back on the ground. Can I give you an advice ? he whispers then lays his hand on your cheek, his thumb caressing it. his eyes were empty of emotions while drilling into yours. You should really stop pushing me off because I'm starting to lose my fucking temper over here. Okay my love ? I'll go get you your food. I'm such a good househusband for you, right love ? You stay all pretty here, I'm coming back really quick."

With the unknow time he let you alone, you scanned your surrondings. All the tools could help you but they were too far away from you. You needed to change plan. At one point he'll have to go to sleep ? Or let you go to the bathroom ? As soon as he lets his guards down, you attack.

Ethan wasn't lying when he said he'd come back really quick as he was already here. He calmed down. Much better for you. He had a garnished plate in hand. He pushes his seat closer to you before smiling to you.

"It's gonna be fun. You'll be my beautfull wife whom I'd kill for. By the way have I told you about.. ? Wait, they haven't been discovered yet... Well, we don't care. Just a background character. he sits back down on his chair.

What ? Did he just told you he killed someone else ?

-Open your mouth, love. he says while taking a spoon full of pasta.

A spoon ? He probaby thinks you're gonna try to hurt him or yourself with a fork. He really think of you as a kid. He approaches the spoon near your mouth. You don't budge, staring at him dead in the eyes. you weren't even hungry. And if you were, you'd much rather die than to eat his food.

-Oh, I didn't even ask if you were hungry. Well, I'm putting that aside and when you need something you tell me. I won't leave your side anyway."

Him who was so nice and polite before, him who helped you with your homework. Him who killed your boyfriend, him who stalked and kidnapped you. Who was he ? Who was this man ? He sighs before your blank stare.

"Listen, I know you wanted to play that little game between us longer but he was turning violent, my love. I just... I couldn't stand to see you suffering with him. It was for your safety.

He stares at your thight on which he draws circle with his pointer. You don't even listen to the lies he tells you anymore. You're just trying to find a way out of here. Ethan sits on the ground next to you, his head now at the same level as your waist.

-He couldn't love you like I do. Nobody can. I'm going to take good care of you.

He lowers his head, his lips grazing against the clothe that separate him from the top of your thigh. You shudder. You feel his hot breath hitting your skin through the fabric. He lays his cheek flat against the fat of your thigh. He smiles. You want him to get away from you but any of your movement can angry him and you don't want that.

-I'll kill my dad after the plan, okay? So that he cannot oppose our union, our marriage.

Strangely, you wouldn't have thought someone like him had a father. Or any parent for that matter. His dad must be as fucked up as him, you're sure. You don't bother to try and understand him. A plan ? Yeah, good for him. You don't give a fuck. You just want to leave.

Though, he'd kill his dad ? He's even attacking his own family now ? Does this man have limits ? Your questionning must be visible from the outside as he laughs brightly at you.

-Why are you shocked pretty girl ? Didn't I show you how devoted I am to you ? he laughs again. And that's not even a quarter of what I'm ready to do for you.

His rub his nose against your skin covered thigh and sigh of contentement. Are you really stuck here ? No, no of course not. Someone is going to find you. Someone is going to find your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. He tried to warn you. You hate yourself for that. It's too late now. You can simply hope he didn't suffer a lot in his death. That's all you can do. Tears are coming again, the few leaft in you anyway. You're tired. Terribly tired. You'll probably pass out soon.

Ethan kiss your thigh after taking a good sniff out of you.

-I could do so much more for you, my love. So much more. You have no idea what I could to for you."

364 notes View Post

vitzi9

2 years ago

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary you're a single mom living three trailers down. eddie thinks you're the prettiest girl he's ever seen. queue smiley face oatmeal, grossly misused power tools, desserts on the living room floor, a haircut, and an abundance of nerd metaphors [15k]

warnings teen mom!reader, fem!reader, r is junie's birth mother, fluff, hurt/comfort, eddie ends up being a total girl dad (<3), mutual pining, yearning etc, tw for not having much money, general loneliness, mentions of a shitty/traumatic pregnancy, general mom struggles :(, slowburn friends to lovers, you wash eddie's hair!!!! this was low-key requested by anon

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie opens the door and finds a little girl on the steps of his house. Little girl feels generous – she's barely more than a baby. In a set of tiny matching pajamas and white socks stained green from the morning grass, she looks up at him with wide, sad eyes.

"Hey," he says carefully. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Good morning," she says, though it comes out blurry.

"Good morning," he repeats with a breathless laugh, instantly endeared.

He curls his hand around the railing and squats down. She really is very cute and obviously well looked after, although he realises upon closer inspection that she's been crying.

"Where's your mommy?" Eddie feels silly as he asks, but what else do you say when you find kids by themselves?

He's not really expecting her to know the answer. She pouts her small mouth and Eddie freezes up.

"Mommy.” Her breath quivers.

"Don't cry," he says very gently.

It doesn't work, obviously, and she starts whimpering in a way that turns Eddie's heart entirely.

"Let's find mommy, okay? Do you wanna do that? Wanna come and find mommy with me?"

"Yes," she says, though it quickly draws up into a sharp cry.

Eddie treks down the stairs and turns back, waiting. The little girl looks down at the steps and her eyebrows furrow as she places one foot after the other, looking like her socks are stuck to a fly trap.

He holds his hand out. "You got it," he says encouragingly, wiggling his fingers.

Her relief is palpable. Her brows smooth as she takes his hand, so small he can cover her entire palm with the meat of his thumb. She wobbles down the steps and then hesitates at the damp ground awaiting.

Eddie drops his gaze to her wet feet.

She looks up at him. Eddie doesn't think she means to but her eyes are pleading,and he's already moving to pick her up when she lifts her arms into the air.

She's heavier than he anticipates. He quickly gets used to the weight, shifting her against his side with his arm under her butt, her damp foot digging into his abdomen. She rests one hand on his shoulder and the other reaches for his hair. He can't help smiling at her as she pets the dark mess, hand clumsy but well-intentioned.

He walks down past the van and onto dark asphalt, looking up and down the road to see if anyone's around. He figures she has to be a trailer park kid – she can't have walked very far, and she'd been waiting outside. She must've gotten mixed up and thought his trailer was her own, which hopefully means her mom lives close.

The steps up into his trailer are on the right side. Eddie guesses she's come from the right. It's not a great assumption — he's grasping at straws.

"What's your name?" he asks.

She's taken a lock of his hair into her hands. Eddie worries for a second that she's going to try eating it but she only waves it around, looking pleased.

"I'm Eddie."

"Dee," she says.

"Almost. Eh-dee," he spells out, again not actually expecting her to understand what he's saying. He's unsure about kids her age – he's unsure what age she even is.

She babbles something unintelligible and Eddie hikes her higher up his chest. He strides out of the cool shadow and blinks, shielding his eyes against the yellow-white glare of sunshine. The little girl hides her face in his hair.

He hasn't walked very far when he sees you behind the trailer three doors down, pinning clothes that look the same size as the girl's pajamas to a clothesline with unhurried hands. The front door is wide open.

"Your poor mommy," he murmurs as he approaches, "out here doing the laundry by herself and you're halfway to Indianapolis. Musta got turned around, huh?"

You drop a small light blue dress on the floor and cuss just loud enough for Eddie to hear it. You pick it up fast and brush it down, looking over the fabric worriedly.

Eddie cuts over soft grass, giving the baby's waist a pat and holding her ears away from his mouth as he raises his voice. "Hey, is this your kid?" he asks.

You flinch toward him and your eyes go wide – wide, your lips parting and your brows jumping down like you might start yelling.

You're really fucking pretty.

Eddie’s quick to placate you. "She was sitting on my front steps."

You still don't look very happy though your suspicion melds to confusion and then a stab of too-late worry. You rush towards them and Eddie turns his body to encourage the girl's gaze to you. His chest warms when she perks up.

She wriggles in his arms impatiently and Eddie's surprised by how quickly she starts to cry, reaching out for you with insistent grabbing hands as he passes her over.

"It's okay," you say softly, tucking her into your chest.

The difference in body language is unmissable. Where she'd been restless (though more than pleasant) in Eddie's arms, she completely melts into yours. Her little face presses into your neck and her legs curl up. You pat her butt soothingly. "It's okay, baby. Where have you been?" You look up at him for an answer with concern lining your pretty features.

"I'm only three down," he says.

"Oh… Thank you," you say roughly.

Your gratitude is unnecessary. "That's okay. She's real sweet. I opened the door and the first thing she said was, 'good morning,'" he recalls with an easy smile.

Joy lightens your entire face. He feels his breath catch in his throat.

"She did? She said that?"

"Yeah, she did.” He tries not to sound as confused as he feels.

Your eyes close with the force of your smile. You encourages your toddler’s face back and drop your chin to plant kisses all over her tiny cheeks. Eddie feels something foreign yawning in his chest as she starts to laugh, a tinkling sound that's sugar sweet.

He scratches his neck and pretends to look over his shoulder, tamping his smile back into a neutral expression.

"She's having trouble talking," you say, lifting your head as the baby's giggles taper off. "She can talk, she says 'mommy' all the time, but she's s'posed to be saying more 'cos she's almost two and I know she can do it, she's so smart, but-" You cut yourself off and laugh all breathless and sheepish. "Sugar, I'm sorry. I mean- Sorry. Thank you," it almost bursts from you, "for bringing her back. I don't know…"

"You just moved in, right?" You nod. "The lock on the front door- they're all exactly the same, you just gotta shake it and it unlocks. Even someone small as her can could get it open with enough determination."

"She can be very determined," you say ruefully, voice hushed. You're still patting her butt, swaying her from side to side. Eddie's in awe at how quickly she's settled, her button features crumpled by a big yawn. "Always gets what she wants."

"I bet she does, she's a total heartbreaker."

You take a step towards him, your beat up sneakers half a foot from his converse. "She can't help it, she was born this pretty," you say. He loves how braggy you sound.

"I can see where she gets it."

As soon as he says it he wishes he could take it back. Not because he doesn't think it's true – you're really something else – but because he doesn't want to creep you out.

Luckily, he's rewarded for his bravery by another beaming smile, your words warm as you tell him, "They said she was the prettiest baby they'd seen in twenty years up in Eskenazi general."

The name pricks his ears. "You're from Indianapolis?"

"Kind of." You tilt your head to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Eddie." He could applaud himself on how normal he sounds and how not normal he feels.

"Eddie, I'm Y/N. D'you wanna come in for coffee? Or I can make you some breakfast? To say thank you for taking care of my Junie."

"Junie," he repeats, surprised.

You shift from foot to foot. "She's a June baby. And she's getting kind of heavy these days, so. Breakfast?"

He follows you up the steps and through the back door.

"You can leave it open," you say over your shoulder.

He catches an eyeful of your bathroom, an organised chaos that smells intoxicating, the rich scent of jasmine heavy in the humidity chased by something softer. Talcum powder, he thinks.

You murmur something to Junie too quiet to hear and she rouses from her dozing, grizzling weakly.

"It's breakfast time! Is that what you tried to come and find me for, some breakfast? So impatient," you scold her lightly, smiling all the while as you set her into a bright blue high chair with a big yellow duck with orange flippers printed on the cushioning.

You squeeze one of her feet and frown. "Your socks are wet. Did you go swimming in the grass?"

Eddie leans against the doorway leading into the kitchen. He doesn't have any experience with kids. You make it look easy, pulling off her stained socks while she wiggles her protest and tickling the soles of her feet with the tip of your finger until she's happy again.

You turn back to him, socks clutched in your hand. "I'm gonna make oatmeal. Is that something you…"

"I'm an oatmeal fiend."

You grin and do a lap to close the front door. "Sit down. I'll get you some coffee? I got milk and brown sugar."

He throws himself into the seat next to the high chair with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Brown sugar? Sweetness, you're spoiling me."

Junie laughs. Eddie pulls himself up into a proper sitting position and gawps at her exaggeratedly. "What's funny, little lady?"

She giggles some more. Eddie leans his elbow on the tray of the high chair and pretends to glare at her. "I can already tell you're trouble."

"She likes you."

"Yeah?" he asks, looking at you over his shoulder.

You're half obscured by cabinets as you poke your head out, an open sack of rolled oats in one hand and a small pan in the other. You nod happily and move to the sink. He can hear the sound of the faucet and the burner clicking on, the saucepan sliding over the stovetop.

"I like you," he says to Junie quietly, rapping his knuckles on the tray. "But don't tell anyone, okay? I have a reputation."

"So, uh, how long have you lived here?" you call, almost smothered by the rushing sound of oats tipping into hot water.

Junie makes a funny face like she might sneeze. Eddie watches. "Since I was a kid." He's smiling as he talks, amazed when Junie starts to smile back. He nods his head gently up and down to encourage her. "Too long. Not that it's not nice here."

Junie looks like she agrees.

"For sure, but.. not always where you picture yourself," you say tentatively.

He hums his agreement. "Whatever though, right? A roof is a roof. Even when the roof is made of cardboard and corrugated metal. I mean, all things considered, this is a well kept vessel."

He's not just trying to make you feel better – you really are making a go of it. There's not nearly as much clutter or decoration as his own home but it's twice as clean and every surface brags a clear affection – you fucking love your daughter. There's a framed photo of her as she looks now at the mantle without a single fingerprint on the glass, baby photos in smaller frames hang on the wall.

Smallest of all, a photo of the two of you together. Your hands on her shoulders, your lips and nose pressed to her forehead. You're not looking at the camera, but Junie is, and she's exuberant.

Toys, though few, are arranged neatly under the TV. It's really the type of clean that takes hours. He wonders how you'd ever make time for it.

"You got a job?"

"Yeah, I'm waitressing at Benny's?" You say it like a question. "The burger place?"

"Yeah, I know the one. Randolph Lane, near the laundromat. Does Junie go with you?" he asks. He cooes Junie's name and feels very happy when the girl in question smiles some more, reaching out with her hands. Eddie offers up the same palm she'd taken before and lets her squeeze his fingers in a surprisingly tight grip. "She looks like a working girl."

"Benny said I could bring her with me until she starts daycare next week, so she really is a working girl." You giggle madly and Junie loves the sound, her chubby cheeks rounding as she smiles.

"I knew it," Eddie whispers conspiringly. "You have the face for it."

Junie laughs like something is truly hysterical and Eddie can't believe it, squeezing the small girl's smaller fingers in his and waving their joined hands together.

"She really likes you," you say, closer now.

You set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He pulls his hand from Junie's and moves the hot mug away from the high chair though she'd never be able to reach it as you set your own mug and a pint of milk half-full across from him, the brown sugar you'd promised in a pink and orange ceramic dish with a lid that clinks as he pulls it off.

You double back into the kitchen. This time you bring a baby bottle full of what he guesses is diluted juice and two teaspoons, handing him one with a quiet, "For you."

"Why thank you," he drawls.

He spoons a generous hill of crumbly brown sugar into his cup and swirls.

"The oatmeal needs to soften. Is there anything you want with it? I've got lots of options," you tell him, pouring milk into your own mug. When you're done you and Eddie swap.

He thinks maybe you sound a little nervous and wonders if he's the first neighbour you've met. Or maybe you're still freaked out about Junie.

He raises his eyebrows but doesn't look at you as he splashes milk into the dark recesses of his coffee, watching as it bursts back up to the surface and turns the drink a more acceptable brown. "What do you usually have?"

"Junie gets peanut butter and blueberries."

He tilts his head toward his shoulder just slightly and plants his elbows on the table, the rim of his mug held in tenuous fingertips.

"What do you get?" he asks, thinking that if the baby gets such a sweet treat you must get something equally impressive. He thinks of raspberries and chia seeds, flakey sea salt and bitter dark chocolate.

You blink. "What?"

"What do you have, on your oatmeal?" He punctuates his question with a sip.

"Salt. Sometimes raisins."

You make a nice cup of coffee. Eddie holds it in both hands and leans into the table. "That's it?"

You shrug. Junie starts to whimper about something Eddie doesn't understand. You reach out to hold her hand. "She loves blueberries. Don't you, Junie?"

"Blue," Junie says.

You're smiling as you take another small spoonful of brown sugar. You lick the tip of your finger and dip it into the well of the spoon until a few grains are sticking to you and hold it up to Junie's lips. "She loves sugar, too, but toddlers aren't s'posed to have it. Or so they say." You smile as she sucks the sugar off before wiping your spit wet finger in your pants.

Daughter appeased for a moment, you hold your chin in your palm and turn your attention to him. "Where do you work?"

He imagines this is how a plant feels when the sun comes out. "The Hideout, for now. I'm a very essential and irreplaceable bus boy." He nods very seriously.

"What's after?"

"Music."

Your lips curl into an interested smile. "Music? You a singer?"

"I have a great set of windpipes," he says agreeably, grinning. "But I'm a guitarist."

"And you're in a band?"

"I- I was. Yeah, we were good, too, but everybody graduated and our drummer skipped town. I just sub rhythm guitar for whoever wants me to."

"At the Hideout?"

"At the Hideout." He decides on his next words carefully. You could come see me play. Weak. You're welcome to come see it for yourself. Too strong? You're welcome to come by one night. Bring Junie.

He's not asking you on a date; he's a new acquaintance extending an invitation for you to get out and see a new place. That's all it is.

He opens his mouth to try and suddenly there's a loud clattering. Eddie flinches, blinks, finds that Junie has thrown her bottle of juice across the room.

Eddie waits for you to maybe tell her off like some of the mom's he's seen at Bradley's. A glare, a hissing remark to be good.

You reach over and your shirt rides up your back. Eddie averts his gaze guiltily.

You put the bottle back on the tray, giving him an apologetic grimace. "Sorry, Junie has recently discovered that every time she drops something I'll pick it up for her."

"Smart Junie."

The bottle falls to the floor again. "She's a genius." You don’t sound entirely pleased, picking the bottle up again and holding it just out of Junie's reach. You shake it up and down. "S'juice. You like juice," you try to reason with her.

Junie reaches for it. You purse your lips. "Be good," you say softly.

Junie takes the bottle and shakes it.

It's a small victory and still softens every feature. Your eyes squint, your bottom lip juts out a touch, your nostrils flare with a pleased inhale.

"Thanks, junebug."

"Tanks," Junie says.

"Thanks," you repeat, bubbly baby talk. "Thanks. Say thanks, Junie."

Eddie watches you encourage her over his coffee. It's quiet, peaceful here in a way nowhere else in his life has ever been besides quiet Sunday mornings with his Uncle. There's only the sound of the gas stovetop burning and your happy, patient voice.

Junie says "Tanks," a couple more times. You don't give up. When she finally says something that sounds almost like a "Thanks," you whip your gaze to his.

"Did you hear that?" you ask. Your pride is evident.

He puts down his half empty mug. "She said it."

"She said it," you repeat, your shoulders moving in the tiniest happy dance he's ever seen. You stand up and take her face into delicate hands. "She's my smarty pants. Aren't you, baby?"

You dot a kiss over her head and head back into the kitchenette.

"Tanks," Junie says animatedly, running on an affection high. She accidentally knocks her bottle over.

"Thanks, Junie," Eddie corrects, righting it.

He finds it easier to baby talk than he imagined. Being nice to little kids – that's easy. Especially as he gets older. When they hit the pre-teen mark is when he starts to steer clear, but even then he can't help doting on them sometimes. Like his club – idiots, annoying idiots, but his annoying idiots. He doesn't hold back with them. He doesn't feel like he's holding back now, either, it's just different.

Baby's want love. Care and affection.

And to pull Eddie's hair, apparently.

Junie's reaching over the gap with a fierce look on her face. Eddie pulls his chair closer and decides to let her try it out. She hadn't given him any reason to worry before, and she doesn't now as she takes a chunk of his hair into her hand. She pulls very gently, likely more that her fingers have gotten caught in his messy curls than any maliciousness.

"What's your fascination with my hair?" he asks her.

In her own home Junie's very noisy. When he'd found her outside she hadn't done much besides whimper weakly. Now, she's a riot of gurgling and humming.

"Are you a singer, Junie?" he asks.

"She sings all the time! She loves the Muppet Babies on TV, but I- uh, I haven't been able to actually get cable, yet. But when I get paid next week…" You come back into view with two bowls in hand. "She'll be in her oils."

Eddie says thanks as you put a bowl down in front of him. There's a smiley face there made up of berries with banana slices for eyes. He feels something crawling up his throat and has no idea what it is, and then something completely different when he sees your own bowl, a stretch of plain oatmeal with no delicious adornment.

You leave and quickly return with a smaller bowl, a baby spoon and a jar of peanut butter.

"Do you want some?" you ask, opening the jar to push the baby spoon inside. "I would've just put it in anyway but then I worried you were allergic."

You hand it off to Junie and she licks at it happily.

"Sure, I'll have some. Where's your smiley face?" he asks.

Your eyes widen slightly. Eddie's not academically inclined but he's never been stupid, and he sees it for what it is, something he's seen in himself and in every other poor kid who didn't bring lunch to school.

"I don't really like bananas," you say.

Whether you're lying or not isn't something he needs to know.

"Well, you're gonna have to share the blueberries with me, I can't eat this much fruit. I got a hearty diet of chips and microwave oven dinners to uphold."

Eddie shovels half of the smile into your bowl. You clutch your spoon in your hand like you want to protest, but no way is he gonna watch you miss out on nice things in your own home.

You smile and don't say anything for a while, rubbing the edge of the bowl with your spoon, your thoughts somewhere else.

Junie's food sits billowing steam in the middle of the table, which annoys the poor girl endlessly. She wiggles and murmurs and sucks at her empty spoon with a growing line between her brows.

Eddie eats and feels much better when you finally start to eat your own meal, leaning back in his chair heavily to loll his head towards Junie. "Your mom makes amazing oatmeal. You're really missing out."

You choke on a laugh and grab her spoon to load up with another small heap of peanut butter. "That is so cruel to lord over her,” you say. “I can't give it to her yet! It's scorching. She has a fragile mouth."

"I'm sure."

He picks one of his blueberries out of the bowl and offers it to Junie, who takes it slowly despite her previously rabid hunger

More oatmeal eating. Eddie ends up giving the rest of his fruit to Junie, your generous dollops of peanut butter more than enough to enjoy the oatmeal. He might argue it doesn't need any adornment at all.

You stir peanut butter into Junie's bowl and wrestle the baby spoon out of her tight grip.

It's a process to watch. You scoop up oatmeal, blow on it until you're sure it's cool, and push it into Junie's mouth efficiently. There's a method to it, the way you lift the handle of the spoon so oatmeal doesn't drip straight back out of her mouth. When it does you scrape the lip gently against her chin to catch it before it ruins her shirt.

It starts to rain. Hard not to notice, a light drizzle opens and sprays down against the windows and for a moment there's no reaction. Then, gasping, you drop Junie's bowl back onto the table in stress.

"Shit, the laundry. Are you okay to watch her please? Sorry. I'll be five seconds," you say, already heading for the back door.

"Sure.” He sounds about as startled as he feels.

The back door shushes open and your feet dip down the steps. Junie is not very pleased with her breakfast getting put on pause, her face growing as unpleasant as the weather outside.

"Mommy," she says, unhappy and loud.

Eddie doesn't think about it as he picks up her bowl. It's more a pulse of feeling than a thought. Feed her and she won't cry.

He blows on a spoonful of oatmeal with likely too much vigour.

Junie's still complaining as he holds it in front of her face. If she's surprised to be fed by somebody who isn't her mom she doesn't show it, her sticky face growing suddenly slack as she realises her oatmeal is back in play. Her lips part.

He feeds her oatmeal, does a very bad job, and tries to gather what's escaped with the spoon as Junie waves her hands around and pokes at spilled food on the white tray in front of her. By the time you come back damp and breathless with the cold chasing your heels he's successfully managed to feed her what was left of her breakfast. He's embarrassed to be caught but tries not to show it.

"You okay?" he asks, looking you up and down amicably.

"S'only a little rain." You push the laundry basket onto the sofa and smile sheepishly. "You didn't have to do that."

"And have the precious little lady starve?"

"Starve!" you repeat, a feigned incredulousness to your tone.

"She was giving me the puppy dog's," he says, shrugging as he takes the spoon out of Junie's wet fingers.

She whines for a second at his robbery but seems to realise she's full, picking her juice back up to shake some more.

You exhale through an open-mouthed smile.

"Thank you. She's gonna love you now, she loves anyone who gives her food. She's a real cadge at the diner. Never seen so much free cherry pie in my life," you remark, turning to what looks like your diaper station. You wade through a mess of things he doesn't recognise and pull out a packet of baby wipes.

"And her mom? Is her affection so easily garnered?"

"Takes more than a cherry pie to win me over," you joke, sitting down in your chair in front of the high chair with a soft sigh. You pull out one of the wipes and take Junie's wrists into your hand, wiping her fingers clean methodically. "I need at least a squirt of whipped cream on top before I consider any fondness."

He chuckles and you laugh too. It's short-lived, your lips pursed as you wipe Junie's face clean. She hates every second of it, writhing in her chair like she's being tortured as you clean a mess of brown and blue from her round chin.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. Done, done," you say, holding your hands up in surrender.

She pouts.

"Don't be like that," you scold her mildly. "Look how lovely and clean you are now! Eddie can see how pretty you look again."

You slide your hands under her armpits and pull her out of the highchair, groaning.

"Oh, there you go. Where's Mr. Bear gone, baby? You can play sticky bricks with him so I can get ready for work."

Work. Work. Where Eddie was going. Where Eddie is very likely supposed to be. He checks the time and his eyes flare, standing up abruptly. You turn toward him with Junie anchored on your hip, both wearing matching expressions of curiosity.

"Sh-“ Don’t swear around babies. “I'm sorry, I got somewhere to be that I totally spaced on."

You blink. "That's okay."

"It was sick to meet you," he says.

You blink some more and walk to the front door, pulling it open as an understanding smile curls your lips. "Super 'sick,'" you say, bemused. "Thank you so much for bringing Junie back. Really, I mean, if anything ever happened to her." You don't finish because it's obvious, your bright tone underlain with a burning fear.

He walks sideways out of the door and down one step, knowing he's super fucking late but not caring too much as he says, "Listen, I can bring you a deadbolt."

"You could?"

"Sure thing. Make sure this little lady," and he says it chidingly, directing his gaze at Junie who goes all shy and smiley from the attention, "doesn't go on anymore morning adventures. Especially without her shoes."

"That would be… that would be awesome, Eddie. Thank you."

He waves his hand and descends the last of the steps. "I'll come around tomorrow?"

It's a Saturday today. He's not surprised that you're both working the weekend, but he is surprised that you're working Sunday too when you say, "Would after five be okay?"

"That's more than okay. Bye, trouble," he says to Junie, bringing a hand up to shield his hair from the drizzling rain.

You look lovely on the stoop, fresh-faced and in your lounge clothes. You tug Junie up your chest and take her hand into yours. "Say 'bye', Junie," you tell her, waving her hand. "Bye! Bye-bye, Eddie."

"Bye Junie!" he calls, waving at the little girl with great fervour.

"Bye!" Junie calls back.

You both grin.

You're super tired from work and exhausted from an upset daughter. Even now Junie fusses. She hasn't been getting her naps because you can't set her down anywhere that isn't the wooden high chair in Benny's restaurant, which is months of a routine disrupted.

You're not mad at her – the opposite, you feel awful to mess her up like this, awful that she's so upset. Trying your very best to calm her down, you're swaying her from side to side in the middle of your messy living room with your hand patting a steady rhythm into the narrow breadth of her back.

"I know, baby, I know. I'm sorry. You'll get your nap tomorrow, I promise," you say, trying for softness and missing, desperation eating at your tone.

You try not to have a heart attack at the thought of her first day at the new daycare. I can't think about it, you tell yourself, moving your thoughts onto the Sunday checklist.

Junie's been fed. Unfortunately, she's the kind of wound up where the only solution you can think of is to get her in bed. If you can get her down soon she'll sleep until maybe 4AM. Not ideal; you'd prefer she slept later tonight and woke up at a healthier 6AM with you. When she does wake, no matter the time, you'll have her eat something substantial for breakfast and take a much needed bath.

Laundry, bills, cleaning, it all runs through your head. Junie's hair, her snacks for daycare, her clothes. Does she have clean socks for the week? Does she have a vest top for tomorrow?

Her crying grows loud and you can't think of anything except how overwhelmed you feel.

"It's okay, baby, just go to sleep." You shush her softly.

Somebody knocks the door.

You and Junie are similarly nonplussed. Her crying ceases for a second and her head turns in tandem with yours.

"Oh. Oh, you know who that is, huh?" you ask her, making for the door while her cries are still on pause. "That's our new friend Eddie. You remember Eddie?"

You pull open the door. There he is on the porch with a bag and a plastic case, wearing a shirt with short sleeves. You realise for the first time that he has tattoos.

"Hi," you say.

"Hi. Hi, Junie," he adds, looking at her tear-stained face. "Have I come at a bad time?"

"No, you're good. You're great, thank you for doing this." You lean back against the door and Eddie skirts past you. That close, you can smell the heavy sage and sandalwood of his cologne and see the beauty mark under his ear, dark hair tucked behind the shell.

He stops in the middle of the room and puts down the plastic case. "I'm gonna try to do it. Try being the essential word, and I make absolutely no promises." He makes a small cross with his hands leading out and the bag falls from the crook of his elbow to his wrist.

It sounds like more than a deadbolt. Eddie sees your gaze and jumps into theatrics that hook Junie's attention straight away, ruffling through the bag. He pulls out a VHS tape and then a second, one old and one newer.

"For your consideration." He presents them grandly against his check, his eyes flitting from your daughter to the tapes in wait of her reaction.

Junie has no clue what a VHS is. She thinks the TV is magic.

You swoop in and gasp loudly for Junie's sake, having identified his proffered tapes immediately.

"You know what that is?" you ask her, pointing at the slipcover. "Muppet Babies! There's Kermit and Fozzy and Rowlf and Gonzo." You touch your finger to each puppet in turn as you reel off their names.

Junie looks up at you like maybe she remembers, so you start to sing the theme tune for her. "Muppet Babies, they make their dreams come true. Muppet Babies, they'll do the same for you!"

The song jogs her memory. She starts her nonsense singing in a valiant but juvenile effort to recreate the music, dancing in your arms.

You sing it again for her as you lower her to the floor. She doesn't whine to be picked back up, a great sign that her mood has turned, instead walking to the TV, a small silver combi with a bubble screen. She raises her arms up high and starts hitting the TV stand with her palms flat.

Eddie looks to you as if he's checking that it's alright before crossing the small space and turning on the TV, your relieved smile more than enough encouragement. He's careful not to step on Junie's feet, surprised when she walks into his leg. She grabs onto his jeans and looks up at him with wide eyes.

Eddie visibly softens.

It's kind of crazy to see him, this metalhead dude covered in dark tattoos and wearing safety pinned jeans looking down at a toddler with nothing but patience in his eyes.

He drops his hand very lightly to her tiny back and pushes in the tape. "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hi," Junie says.

She doesn't let him touch her for very long, falling to her knees to pull out the bin of stickle bricks hiding underneath as Eddie fast forwards through the adverts and then turns up the volume until the Muppet Babies theme is echoing against the wood panelled walls..

Junie's eyes dart up the screen, two bricks held in her hands and a great smile on her face.

"Where did you find that?" you ask, in awe.

He steps over her and comes back to your side, crossing his arms over his stomach with a smug smile. "Not telling. Ruins the magic. Got The Bugs Bunny Show for when she gets bored of Miss Piggy."

You smooth down your rumpled black work skirt and smile shyly. "I can pay you back… Next week."

He looks lost for words for a split-second. It clears fast, and he says, "Tell you a secret. I have a friend down at good old Family Video that let me have 'em for nothing."

"Yeah?" you ask, unsure. You worry he's lying to make you feel better.

"Uh-huh. Friends in high places," he brags sarcastically.

You turn to watch Junie smile for the first time in hours and have to scrub your face to hide how shattered you feel. It's been a really long week. Your relief is a physical thing, a hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself deflate.

"You okay?" Eddie asks.

You press the backs of your hands to your cheeks. "Thank you. Really. You saved me."

"Yeah?" he asks, dialling up the drama. He lifts his chin high. "Would you say, oh, I don't know, that I'm your hero?"

It's his clear joking tone that saves him. If you'd detected even a smidge of genuine expectancy from him you likely would've shoved him out the door.

"Mm-hm. My hero," you croon, both of you grinning.

He turns back to the grocery bag and pulls out a bottle of juice. "I was gonna bring coke but I didn't want Junie to feel left out."

You move to the cabinets and can't believe how nice he is. You get a little warning stab, that feeling of if it's too good to be true… and shake it off. Maybe it'll turn out that way and you're not gonna do anything stupid to chance it, but he seems like a normal guy. A good neighbour who wants to be your friend.

You're in dire need of one of those.

"What was wrong with the little lady?"

You pour juice into a glass for him, less into a glass for you, and a half-inch into a clean baby bottle. "I can't get her down for a nap when she's with me at work and it really caught up to her today. She-" You yawn so wide it hurts your cheeks, covering your face with your arm.

Eddie looks up from where he's kneeling in front of the open plastic case he'd brought with him. "Caught up to you too, I think."

"A little." You smile ruefully.

He holds something red and black in the air. "This'll wake you up," he says.

It's a small hand drill. He presses down on the trigger twice in quick succession and Junie lies down on the floor to look backwards at him.

“Woah,” you say.

Junie rolls onto her knees and then stands. She's in that stage of walking where she can mostly do it but has a great tendency to trip over anything that might be in her way, and she stumbles as she approaches. Eddie moves the drill away from her and opens the case wide to show her his array of drill bits.

"How'd you like them, Junie?" he asks. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"What do they all do?" you ask.

"I don't have the foggiest," he says, grinning up at you. "And I really wanted to be cool and pretend that I did. I was going to, but you asked me that and now we're sunk."

Junie pokes at all the silver metal and turns away, bored, to return to her cartoons.

"I'm sorry," you say, not sorry at all.

"You should be." He shakes his hair out. "Can't say woodshop was something I ever paid much attention to in school."

You squat down beside him where he's counting the screws out for the deadbolt he'd acquired for you, your small cup of juice in hand. The deadbolt isn't new but it's clean of rust and that's all you care about. It doesn't need to do anything besides work.

"It can't be too hard though, right?" you ask quietly. There isn't any need to talk loudly this close to him and your head is starting to hurt from a long day.

"I hope not." He passes you the drill. "Hold onto that?"

He stands and you follow, the deadbolt frame in hand. He turns to your front door and holds it up to the frame, far from the door knob. "Where'd you want this thing?"

"Wherever you think is best," you say quickly.

"Got a pencil?"

You don't. You're ashamed to offer him a cyan blue crayon from Junie's arts and crafts. He takes it with a gleeful smile and uses it to draw a line under the deadbolt's two parts to make sure they fit together once they've been drilled in.

Junie starts fussing and you squint at her, trying to guess what's wrong. You leave the drill on the small table by the door.

"Junie, you want some dinner?" you ask, walking up behind her where she's stood watching TV. You rub her shoulder and lean over her, your face upside down in front of the TV. "I don't think you're hungry. Let's change that diaper."

She certainly doesn't want you to. You turn to Eddie where he's making clumsy crosses on the door in place of the screws, his brows furrowed.

"I'm gonna go get her some jammies," you say, and then wince. "Pajamas."

"Jammies," he repeats. You hate how happy he looks.

A hot flush washes over you. "She's the only one I talk to."

Again, that awful softening of his features. He's got the biggest, brownest eyes you've ever seen. "Why don't you get changed, too? I'm gonna start drilling." He waves the drill and you don't like how loosely he holds it.

"Please don't ruin the door."

A wolfish smile. "No promises."

You leave all the doors open. Eddie's nice but you're not stupid – if he plans on kidnapping her or something evil this is the perfect time. Though, you suppose, he could’ve abducted her when he found her outside.

You shed your uniform and pull on a pair of loose fitting pants. You can't find a clean t-shirt, probably because you own a grand total of three, and you get distracted when the drill starts whirring and Junie screams.

You know in your heart that it's just a baby scream rather than a sign that she's in pain and you still can't let it lie, rushing down the hall. You can see her, see that she's uninjured, only looking at the drill.

She's excited.

"You like that?" Eddie asks her. "Is that funny?"

Junie claps her hands together and reaches for the drill.

Eddie frowns. "Sorry, you can't have it. I gotta finish the door for your mommy. Why don't you build me something with your bricks, yeah? Something big."

Junie reaches up for the drill again.

"I can't, Junie, it's too dangerous. Don't want you to get all mutilated." You wrinkle your nose at what he's saying. He turns the drill towards his chest and touches the drill bit to his collar. "Look, see this? It's not for little hands."

Junie steps over the case of things on the ground and leans against Eddie's legs, insistent.

Your mouth drops open as he starts the drill and puts on some fake anguished screams. "Ah! Oh my god, it's eating me!"

Junie starts laughing at his fake screaming. Her eyes widen, her hands clinging to a rip in his jeans.

"Think that's funny, do you? Heartless girl. Where's your juice gone, hmm?" He holds the drill behind his back and points to her bottle on the side of the couch where you'd left it. "You want that?"

He goes over her head to grab it and encourage it into her hands. "Yummy," he says, his eyes moving to where you stand in the door past the kitchen, eyebrows jumping up. "Everything okay?"

"Screaming," you say, awkward in your breathlessness.

Eddie's eyes stay resolutely on your face. "She's okay. The drill is exciting. You're shirtless, you know."

You spin on your heel and back into your room. Your heart a jack hammer, you sieve through clothes until a rumpled t-shirt that smells of deodorant but not sweat appears and shrug into it.

Junie has a much better selection of clothes. You pick out some matching pajamas for her and a thick pair of socks and tuck them under your arm with her changing matt.

When you return this time, Eddie's drilling a third and fourth hole into the wall next to the door and Junie's watching with the teat of her bottle in her mouth, chewing but not drinking. You lay her mat down on the floor and grab her with a big sigh.

"Alright, Junie, let's get you all fresh for bed."

You change her diaper and she doesn't misbehave too much, Eddie's general presence a distraction. Soon she's sitting in your lap, dressed in new pajamas and smelling of talcum powder and baby creams, her wool socks soft as you rub your thumbs into the instep of her feet.

You sit on the floor watching Eddie drill the screws into the deadbolt frame. Junie slouches against you, her head digging into your chest and her tired arms struggling to hold up her bottle. You hold it up for her, watching Eddie's hands and his arms, how they move. Muscle and ligament tense under the skin, tattoos warping, his bats propelled into flight.

"I like your tattoos," you say.

Eddie stops drilling to look over his shoulder. "What?"

"I- I like your tattoos."

He lights up. His back straightens out and he turns back to the lock, giving the last screw a final good twist. The door makes a groaning protest and then it's quiet. Just Muppet Babies, Junie's soft suckling and the compliment you'd given adrift in the room.

"They're pretty sweet," he allows. You can hear how pleased he is though he won't look at you.

"They're cool. Have you had them long?"

Eddie starts to tell you all about them, fiddling with something you can't see on the door.

Junie decides that she doesn't want to be sitting anymore and turns in your arms, hands coveting your neck. You lift her into your chest and rub circles in her back, the weight of her emptying bottle on your shoulder. Soon, her small arms go lax. There's a rush of air as her lips open from the teat and the bottle tumbles to the rug with a dull thud.

He pulls open the door. Cool air rushes in. He closes it, slides the deadlock into place, and then pulls hard to make sure it won’t come free.

It’s solid.

He laughs triumphantly and Junie stirs. You pat her back and make some quiet shushing sounds and Eddie turns around, a slip of his teeth on show as he grimaces.

"Sorry," he whispers.

You shake your head. "You're amazing. Thank you."

If his cheeks weren't pink they are now. He leans into it, hiding one cheek behind his hair. "Stop," he says, exaggerated.

"I'll make it good, I swear," you whisper, covering Junie's ear with your hand. "I'll make you the best dinner ever. I'm the best at Kraft's mac and cheese, or-" You flush hot, realising that mac and cheese might not be the treat you think it is to him. "Or we can order in," you say, doing the maths in your head. You can't afford it, but maybe Benny-

"Kraft's mac and cheese? You're spoiling me."

You beam.

Eddie cleans up the small mess he's made. You're afraid to move quite yet in case Junie's not really sleeping, though she's a dead weight in your arms, and you watch Eddie walk through the room with both caution and ease.

"Oh, you don't have to do that,” you say.

He folds the baby blanket in his hands and puts it back on the armrest of the couch before moving on to the stickle bricks, not looking at you as he says, "Just earning my wage, doll."

You can't watch him clean your home. You wrap a tight arm around Junie and rise to your feet. Eddie sees your approach and his movements grow faster, rushing to clean up the mess before you can stop him. You don't know who starts first but you're both laughing as you grab his wrist.

"Stop!" you whisper, mock-furious. "Stop cleaning."

"Sh, you'll wake the baby."

You shake your head in bemusement. "I'm gonna go set her down. Then mac and cheese."

"Take your time. Lots of things for me to clean up out here," he says with a mock sincerity.

You drift down the hall and turn back to sneak a glance at him. He's pulled Muppet Babies out of the TV and is rewinding it around his thumb, a small smile on his lips as he hums the theme tune to himself.

With Junie finally in bed for the night you take a quick peek at yourself in the mirror on your nightstand and cringe. You look tired. You give yourself a big smile and feel better; a smile makes even your most exhausted features look pretty.

You slap on some chapstick. You know, to counter your dry lips. It shines.

Slipping out of the bedroom, you close the door as quietly as you can manage.

Eddie's standing at the end of the hallway. You expect to feel scared. Instead, you’re perplexed.

"Hi?" you whisper.

"Can I use the bathroom?"

You laugh. "Yeah. Course you can."

You have to pass each other in the hallway. His hip bumps your hip, a short rub of fabric.

You're still thinking about it when he finds you behind the stove, half asleep with your face in your hand. It's the kind of tired where your eyes keep slipping shut, not aching so much as blurry with a heavy head.

"You okay?" he asks quietly, sitting down at your cramped table.

You hum. "Hm. Just tired." You give him a guilty smile as you tip the bigger portion into his bowl. "Sorry. Mac and cheese with bacon bits for you, my hero."

"Thanks, sweetheart."

The fatigue ebbs a little.

Eddie’s easy to talk to. He makes you laugh. When you say goodnight, he looks back over his shoulder twice.

It's a funny coincidence that Eddie sees you Friday night. He never grocery shops on a Friday but he knowd when his uncle gets home in the morning there won’t be anything for him to eat after his shift. He takes a sharp turn towards the TV dinners and there you are at the bottom of the aisle with Junie in the seat of the cart. You're talking to her like you'd talk to anyone, though you didn't sound so saccharine sweet over mac and cheese. Close, but not quite.

"What do you want?" you're asking. "Ham and pineapple or mini pepperoni?"

Junie holds her hands out for both boxes. You let her take them and the two of you puzzle over the pizzas, heads bent together.

"Pepperoni, right?" you ask her, quietly enough that he almost misses it.

"Peroni," Junie agrees. You let her keep the box and put the other one back in the freezer.

"Pepperoni," you correct, absentminded.

"Peroni."

"Pepper-roni." You sound it out slow, looking at a scrap of paper in your hand.

"Pepper."

"You'll get there. Do you think we need shampoo this week?" You start jovial, but quickly lose your sprightliness. "Maybe I can put some water in the bottle and just… shake it up. No, we definitely need it."

Eddie watches you look over the cart. He knows exactly what you're thinking, What can I put back?

"Hey!" he calls, walking a little faster to try and hide how he'd been listening.

You turn on the spot and smile as soon as you see him. Junie, to his delight, is even more excited.

"Hi," she says, hands thudding along the cart's handlebar.

"Hi, Junie. How's my favourite neighbour?"

She babbles.

"I'm psyched to hear it. How about you, sweetheart?" he asks, parking his cart next to yours.

You're looking very tired. Still in your work uniform with a hoodie thrown over the top and your smart flats swapped for a pair of converse with the laces undone. You pinch your cheeks up into a big smile. He guesses that with a baby you've gotten very used to hiding how you feel.

You don't hesitate to lay it down thickly. "I'm really good."

"Yeah? How's Junie liking daycare?"

You cover your hands with your sleeves. "She loves it. Loves napping again. She-" You frown. "She doesn't like the mornings. Dropping her off. But after." You nod with a tentative smile "Yeah, it's nice to pick her up."

"Uh-huh. How's work?"

"What?"

"How's work for you? How's Benny's?" he prods.

"You're asking me about work?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Nobody ever asks about work," you say.

You can't look at him as soon as you've said it, your eyes moving back to the grocery list in hand. It's an old envelope, and it crinkles under your squeezing fingers.

"Sorry," you mutter.

Eddie bites back a frown. "Well, I'm asking."

He holds out his hand for the list and you give it without thinking. He adores your handwriting the second he sees it, scanning the list for anything in this aisle.

"Hey, tell me about it," he prompts at your silence, pushing his cart. It takes you a millisecond to catch up, but when you do you're near frenetic.

"Well, I messed up like, five different orders today. And when I had Junie it was like they didn't care 'cos she's cute, but now she's not there they get pretty angry pretty quickly."

"She's like a magic item."

"Right," you say, sounding like you have no idea what he's talking about. "She was my lucky charm. 'N now when I mess up I gotta practically beg some of those guys to leave Benny alone. He's too nice to me already."

"Are they all terrible?"

"No, the regulars, guys in there everyday, they're all great. They're too generous. Benny's too generous. I know he's fluffing up my tip jar. I hate that. I don't want him-" You flinch. It's strange. Eddie takes a small step closer to you and waits for you to continue, but you've lost all steam. "Sorry, I don't mean to weigh you down with all of this."

"I asked. And I get it."

"I don't want him to feel sorry for me."

"Hey," he says, reaching out for a box of cereal on your list. He presents it to Junie and shakes it around, "who said anything about all that?"

"No, I know, I just-"

Junie smiles her approval and he chucks the cereal in your cart with a rattle of metal. "I'm not trying to make you feel worse, I swear. I get it. I- You said he's a nice guy, right? So maybe he doesn't feel sorry for you at all. Maybe he just likes you. He owns that place. I don't think it hurts him to put an extra twenty in your tips."

Junie reaches up. You turn to her and lean down until your face is a few inches from hers. "I wish I didn't need it," you say quietly.

"I know."

Junie puts her hand on your cheek.

You sniff, not crying or anything like that, only breathing. "Thanks, Junie," you murmur.

"Mommy," she says. She sounds a little concerned.

"Let's go get something yummy, baby." You stroke her face lightly. "I'm thinking canned peaches. Or pears, um. Fruit cocktail. And condensed milk," you add, sounding unsure.

"I got a can or two of that laying around," Eddie says, because he knows that shit is expensive. "Wayne hates sweet stuff."

"I couldn't-"

"You let me come over for one of those mini pizzas and I'll bring the dessert," he says, like he knows you'll say yes. He doesn't know. Eddie Munson’s an expert in pushing his luck.

Junie starts clapping her hands together.

"I think she's decided," you say.

You're terrible with a can opener. You whine to yourself as you struggle to get open the second can. Eddie had insisted on peaches and pears and fruit cocktail, because he wanted to try them all apparently. And then some dramatic speech about little kids getting spoiled.

You can hear him now in the living room with Junie. They're laughing in a way that you're worried about, that guilty, hushed giggling that raises your hackles.

"Shush," Eddie says, faux-angry, "your mom's gonna hear."

"Shush," she repeats with much more enthusiasm.

"You shush! Look, don't do that, Junie, you're gonna get it tangled in your hair," he says.

You carry the can and can opener with you into the living room. Something about tangled hair gets your heart racing.

"Eddie, please don't let her get stickies in her hair," you say quickly.

"They're called stickles," he says, dropping back onto his hands, head over his shoulder to give you a bright-eyed smile.

"I know what they're called. Junie can't say stickles."

"Stickles," she says.

"She couldn't when I got them," you amend.

He's up quicker than you can really take in, hands extended. "Let me do it," he says.

He works the can out of your fingers. It's more contact than you've had with somebody who wasn't your daughter in a very long time and it leaves you shell-shocked. Eyes on his nice hands, bigger than yours with thicker fingers and his riot of rings. He presses the can to his chest and hooks the opener, peeking between it and you intermittently.

"Go see what we made for you," he encourages. "I'll do it."

His arm brushes yours as he moves to the kitchen and that's worse than his fingers. You rub where he'd touched and drop down on your knees next to Junie, looking over the stickle bricks with a smile. It's a heart, poorly construed and of tens of colours. It falls apart when she tries to pick it up so you help her remake it, cooing.

"Thanks, baby. This is for me, huh? You're so sweet." Your voice drops to a murmur. "My sweet girl. Wanna cuddle?"

You open your arms out and she doesn't seem very interested. "Please?" you ask, vying for her waist.

She lets you pull her into your lap. When you actually start to hug her she does her lovely melting thing that she always does, a floppy fish in your arms but with tiny squeezing hands. You giggle at her antics and lift her up so her face falls into your neck.

"Thanks for my heart, Junebug." She snuggles her head into your neck, hair squished to your skin. "I love you," you whisper, rubbing her back.

"The works," Eddie announces grandly as he appears, two bowls in hand.

"Eddie, that's too much for her."

"She's a growing girl."

"A growing girl with a tiny tummy," you say turning her around in your arms. "Tell you what, you have that one," you point to the biggest one, "and we'll share that one."

"How about you share the big one?" he asks, though it hardly sounds like a question. He sits down and places the bowl in her lap.

You grab the spoon before she can and stir up some of the fruits. "Wow, look at this! You gonna say thanks? Thanks Eddie.”

She doesn’t say thanks — her mouth is too far open to form words. You make quick work of shovelling fruit and condensed milk inside, chilled enough that she shivers in your arms.

“Yeah, that’s good,” you say agreeably.

She gets enthusiastic enough to take the spoon and you let her, even when she totally mauls the food, eating so loudly that Muppet Babies becomes inaudible.

Eddie eats slowly. You can feel his gaze. “You’re not gonna have any?” he asks.

You’d felt it coming. Your answer is clumsy anyways. “No, I will. I just… I always have her leftovers,” you say, sheepish.

He stands up.

You’re gonna ask why when Junie tips fruit down your legs, cold on the naked skin of your ankle. You dab at your pajamas with a small sigh. There’s no point in getting upset. She’s a messy eater but they all are at this age. Honestly, it’s nice to see her attempting to use a spoon rather than her hands.

“You’re doing a good job,” you say. You’re not totally sure who you’re talking to.

“Tada!” Eddie cheers, wielding a third bowl of fruit. “Swap with me?”

“What?”

“You think Junie’ll come sit in my lap?” he asks. He doesn’t wait, really. He holds out the bowl and you take it on impulse as he sits down heavily.

He takes her into his lap with a cheerful groan. “Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. There’s enough milk on your chin to bake a cake.” He wipes it with his hand. He doesn’t so much as wince at the mess.

You stare. He eases the spoon out of her grip and scrapes up a half-spoonful of what looks like pear and feeds it to her with the same kind of deftness of hand that’d taken you months to learn.

He can feel your gaze, evidently, because he looks up. There, you catch it, that slither of insecurity he hides well.

You pick up your bowl and start eating. It’s the nicest thing you’ve eaten in almost two years. You’d die for Junie. You’d do worse. But to eat, to know she’s fed — gorged — to know you can sit here and eat this whole bowl of fruit all to yourself and you won’t have to put it down, that’s heaven. It’s better, because you never let yourself have anything nice if you can help it.

The fruit turns to a lump in your throat and you swallow it, sniffling. Your lashes grow heavy with unshed tears and you keep your gaze resolutely on your dessert. When was the last time you had something this nice all to yourself? When was the last time somebody ever went out of their way to be this nice?

It’s a small gesture and a huge one. A tear dribbles down your cheek. You lick it away and keep on eating.

Eddie starts to come around every Friday. It’s a good deal; you make dinner and he makes dessert. After that first time he makes it his mission to give you heaping bowls too much to eat most of the time. Soon, he’s coming a few days a week, not always long, sometimes until the late hours, though you tell him desserts are a Friday only occasion. He complies grudgingly.

You make your first friend in years, and it’s so sweet you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Or what possesses you to offer to cut his hair.

Eddie's sitting on the couch with Junie, his big thigh to her little one and a picture book spread between them whilst you clean the kitchen. He's not reading to her – she's trying to read to him. She can't read, of course, but she can remember some of the words in relation to the pictures. She pokes at the blue cat and says blue. She pokes at the blue dog and says blue. She also points at the red cat and says blue. It's a learning curve.

Eddie gives corrections and encouragements just as you would. You smile at him from behind your cup of water.

"He's red, sweetheart," he murmurs, arm around her shoulder to hold the book's edges. "Red cat."

"Red cat," she repeats with enough accuracy to make you choke on your water.

Eddie gasps almost as loud as you do. "Right! Red cat! You're so smart, junebug, I can't believe it," he praises, squeezing her shoulder. His gaze meets yours and he smiles.

You send him back your sweetest smile. If he wasn't always so nice to you you'd like him anyway because of how he treats Junie, like she's the fucking sun.

She gets so excited when other people are happy that she starts laughing, standing up and trampling all over his legs to give him a hug. She's given him half hugs, she's fallen asleep by his side and loves to pet his hair, but this is a proper, tactile hug. Her arms wind around his neck with purpose and as soon as his surprise has faded he brings his arms up to hug her in turn, laughing delightedly.

"You're such a smarty-pants," he praises, rubbing her back with a boyish brashness.

She squeals as he squeezes her, his fingers digging into her ribs. Never cruel, only tickling her. She eats up every second of it and buries her face in his neck, laughing her wound up baby laugh that always brings a smile to your face.

"Ooh, she's so smart. First blue, then red. Next you'll be saying indigo, and vermillion, and-"

He cuts off when Junie gets one of her nails caught in his hair. She jolts and whines like it hurts and he goes rigid. You move forward to play mediator but he's already pulling her away gently and making small shushing sounds. "Chill out," he chides lightly, "I got it. Here." He pulls the hair from under her fingernail and rubs the pad of his thumb over her hand. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he apologises, pouting at her scowl. He envelops her hand in his and waves it around. "Forgive me?"

She doesn't learn her lesson, pushing her hands back into his hair, probably less kind than what’s ideal. Eddie doesn't flinch.

You sit on the armrest gingerly. "Can I ask you something?"

Eddie looks over Junie’s head. "What's that?"

"Have you always had long hair?"

He doesn't balk. "No, of course not. I fu-" He clears his throat. "My mom was the best, and I fit in just like everybody else growing up. When I ended up with Wayne I was-" He smiles. It's the kind of rueful grimace that says, You didn't ask for this.

You smile encouragingly.

He drops his gaze to Junie, worming his arms around her in a loose hug as she continues to play with his hair. "I was mad about everything, and I remember him asking when I wanted to get my hair trimmed and I said ‘never’. Took a few years for it to grow past the awkward stage," he bares his teeth and nods toward his shoulder, as if allowing his past misdemeanour. "But now I'd say it looks pretty sweet."

"I love your hair," you say.

Eddie beams. "You don't think it's too long?"

Emboldened by his reaction, you slip off of the armrest to sit next to him, turning in until your knees touch. Junie, loyal as she is, climbs straight into your lap with a babble.

You pat her back with one hand and raise the other cautiously for permission. Eddie flares his eyes wide, as if to say, You want to? Go on.

You take a lock of his hair between your fingers like Junie had moments before. "I like it like this."

"But?"

You look at the ends, an inch of limpness where the rest curls. "You haven't had it cut since you were a kid?"

"Maybe not that long, but it's been a while. I do it myself sometimes." He gestures to his bangs. He speaks quietly. A rarity though not unknown for him to be so hushed.

You tuck the curl you'd been examining behind his ear carefully.

"Do you think my hair looks good?" you ask.

"Sh- Sorry, of course I do. I swear I was gonna-"

You shake your head, laughing. "Not like that. What I mean is, I cut my own hair. I cut Junie's, too, and I could do yours if you wanted me to."

He goes quiet.

"Only if you wanted. I know it's a lot of trust, so-"

"Would you do it now?"

You hold Junie's head away from yours to prevent a loving headbut. "Right now?"

"I'm in dire need."

He throws his big brown puppy dog eyes your way and you couldn't say no if you wanted to.

You explain how he needs to get it wet first and how the shower head in the bathroom doesn't detach. "It's, like, built into the wall."

"I could go home, come back?" he suggests.

"I can do it over the sink?"

Eddie can't remember the last time somebody washed his hair for him. He knows there must've been a time, some place in his life where his mom or dad had done it for him. He thinks that, if he'd asked, Wayne would've tried it once or twice growing up, but now Eddie's most definitely at the age where having his hair washed is a foreign luxury.

And it does feel luxurious.

It shouldn't; the sink basin is very small as they tend to be in the trailer kitchenettes – small sink, small stove, small small small – and Eddie has to crane his neck. Already the space between his shoulder blades aches from being bent over, and he can't breathe well, smothered by steam.

But your hands. One shields his eyes from run off, a gesture unnecessary and far from lost on him, while the other massages shampoo into his scalp. He'd been surprised when you started because you hadn't mentioned washing his hair, and he'd said, "You don't have to do that."

You'd hummed. "Well, it's kind of a waste not to."

That was that.

Your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and if his eyes weren't already closed they would've fluttered shut. He nibbles his lip and tries very hard not to show outwardly how nice it feels. Your left upper arm rubs against his back as you scrub at his roots, your right soaking wet beside his face, covering his eyes uselessly. He doesn't mention it. All this touching, he doesn't want it to end.

Your proximity honest-to-God sets him on fire. Your body pressed to his is a flame over his ribs.

"Maybe we shouldn't cut it at all," you say, stroking wet bangs away from his forehead. "It's soooo long."

"Can’t do it?" he teases.

"Keep your eyes closed, okay? I'm gonna rinse."

It's a comforting process. You dip your cup into the water. It fills with a wet glug, the rim shushing against the basin's bottom. You hold it over his head and pour carefully, heat caressing his scalp as the soap is washed away.

It's over too soon. You grab the towel you'd procured and tuck it around his shoulders, wringing all the excess water from his curls back into the sink. You encourage his head up wordlessly and he stands there, arms useless against the countertops edge, water sloughing down his face as you press the ends flat between your hands.

You lift his head and push his hair back with your hands, raking your fingers through it and laughing as soon as his face appears. "Eddie! I'm sorry, you're totally drowning."

He chuckles. They fade away as you pinch the corner of the towel and start to dab his face dry, dragging the rough material over his cheeks with an expression he can't read on your pretty features. Almost pensive, not quite.

"There," you say under your breath. "Saved you."

"My hero."

You smile at him softly before spinning on your heel. "I gotta find the hairbrush. And the good scissors." You look into the living room quickly and then turn to the hall leading to your bedroom.

Eddie looks into the living room too. Junie's not upto much, only watching TV, unusually subdued. He doesn't disturb her despite the itch to go over and play.

One of the muppets starts laughing about something and she laughs too.

"What are you smiling about?" you whisper from behind him.

"Nothing," he says quickly.

You raise your eyebrows. "She has a nice laugh, right? Doesn't matter how bad I feel, she laughs and everything's okay for a little while."

He feels a fond stab in his chest. "Her laugh's like yours."

"I guess we do sound the same."

You do, but it's not really what he'd meant.

The metal sound of scissors snapping. You wield them at him faux-threateningly and shepherd him into a chair you've dragged to the middle of the kitchen.

Eddie fights goosebumps as you pull a brush through his hair, loses when you take a lock at the front between two fingers and stop about an inch and a half from the end.

"I'm gonna do that much, okay?"

You're a quiet hairdresser. Eddie doesn't care, he can talk for Indiana, but there's something so sweetly simple about the quietude, just your hands in his hair, the snipping of your scissors and Junie's occasional excited chattering. You start to hum a song Eddie doesn't recognise about halfway through. It's melancholy. He doubts you realise what you're doing.

You draw silent as you round to the front. Eddie watches your hands work for what feels like hours. You have really pretty hands, not perfect, burnt fingertips and neat little nails. They smell like honey hand soap.

You pull two locks from the front together to make sure they're the same length. His curls will hide any discrepancy, he knows from experience, but he doesn't want to tell you that. Selfishly, he wants that extra time with you this close.

You work your way between his legs to comb his half-dried bangs. Eddie looks up at you with wide eyes.

"You want me to trim these, too?" you ask quietly.

"If you please."

You huff a laugh through your nose and start to trim his bangs carefully. He closes his eyes, and maybe it's the fact that he can't see you that gives him the confidence to reach out for your hip, a touch that can't be defined as amicable. He curls his fingers into the soft material of your shirt and feels the heat of your skin underneath.

You draw closer, as close as you can be.

"What made you decide on bangs?" you ask.

"Zits, mostly."

He can feel your laugh under his hand.

"I used to… I used to powder my face," you confide, a murmur, "like, an inch thick to try and hide everything. Being pregnant makes you so-" You pause to snip some hair, comb it away. It tickles his face. "Well, it makes you spotty. Or it made me spotty. It actually made me really sick."

"That's must've sucked," he says earnestly.

"It- Yeah. I guess it did. I don't know."

He hadn't meant to bring up something unhappy, but he's hungry to know. "Were you on your own?"

"Mostly."

"What was the worst part?"

"Being scared all the time."

He'd been expecting morning sickness or aching feet. "You were scared?"

"I honestly thought I was gonna die, Eddie."

He opens his eyes and leans back in his chair, hand flexing over your hip, as he tries to tamp down his surprise.

"It was," you mess with his bangs with the tip of your ring finger, "hard. I felt sick all the time, and when I didn't I would make myself sick worrying about her. What if I eat something or I catch something and it hurts her? What if- what if it all works out perfectly and then I can't look after her?"

"Did it work out perfect?"

You rub your lips together. "Uh, I guess so. It took a long time, and it hurt," you sound especially unhappy with that part.

He strokes up your waist, wanting to soothe the small crease between your eyebrows. "By yourself?"

"Yeah, by myself."

"I'm sorry."

You tuck his hair behind his ear and grin at him. "Now what are you sorry for?" Your hand lingers near his cheek. Slowly, you turn it, pressing the knuckle of your index finger into the skin under his eye and rubbing a small line. He worries he’s in love with you right then and there. "Not like you're the one who knocked me up."

You drop your hand and Eddie really doesn't want you to go anywhere, his grip kind but steadfast, bringing the other arm behind your back in a loose hug. "Who was it?"

"Just some guy. Nobody. Nobody worth thinking about."

"How old were you?" he asks.

"Why are you asking me all this stuff?"

"I wanna know about you."

You bring your hands to the towel around his neck and pull on it mildly. "I was sixteen. Seventeen when I had her."

He drags his fingertips up and down the small of your back lightly, almost like he's playing guitar. "I'm sorry you were all by yourself. That young. When I was sixteen I was still watching The Bugs Bunny Show."

You giggle and your hands move up to the side of his neck. He can hardly breathe, afraid to dispel whatever enchantment it is that he's under.

"Could be worse, huh? I'm nineteen and I still watch Muppet Babies," you joke.

"Why wouldn't you? It's the pinnacle of modern television."

"Yeah?"

Your beaming smile hits him straight in the chest. He thinks about how beautiful you look and can't stop, hiding his face in your stomach to stop from saying something stupid, laughing loud. You laugh in tandem, hugging the back of his head until your giggles peter out.

A small hand on his arm. You both turn at the same time and find a very unhappy Junie.

"What?" you ask her. Then, teasing, "Are you jealous?"

You lean down to pick her up. Eddie's gutted to lose your touch and then quickly exuberant when Junie ducks out of your arms to grab at his legs.

"Oh my god, yes," he says, holding out his hands.

Junie tries to take them and he slips them under his arm, pulling her onto his thigh with a big sigh. The sigh is half the fun, a theatrical reluctance when really he's always happy to have her climbing on him.

As soon as she's in his lap she's pleased, turning her head so she can watch the TV across the room.

You roll your eyes at his smug smile. "Shut up. She just wants what other people have."

"And you had me?"

"Shut up, Munson, seriously," you say. You don't sound half as mad as you're trying to.

Eddie takes a drying curl between his fingers and pokes at the side of Junie's face. "Whatever you want, sweetheart," he says, grinning when your daughter starts to squirm on his thigh.

He grins at her and tickles her until she's curling in with her chin dropped to her chest, smiling despite herself.

His fondness colours every word as he croons, "I got you."

Junie sounds about as outraged as a toddler can be when he tickles her nose and then drags the tip of the freshly trimmed curl under her eye. He draws a big circle around one of her cheeks until it's kissing her chin. She dissolves into giggles while squirming to get away from him and so he stops, only for her to blink and tug at his wrist.

He tickles her until she's screaming.

You pause on your knees where you'd been sweeping up his trimmed hair to look up at her and he's struck with guilt. "Y/N, you don't have to do that. I'll do it."

"No, you're okay."

Eddie finds his gaze drawn to your thighs, spread out as they are in your kneeling position, and then stolen by Junie as she almost topples off of his lap.

"I think…" he begins quietly, speaking to Junie though it's just as much for you, "that your mom deserves something nice for my haircut. What do you think?"

"I don't think that," you say.

"Wasn't asking you," he says seriously. Back in baby mode he continues, "What's mommy like, huh? What's her favourite thing in the whole world, besides you?"

"Sleep," you say.

"Well, I can't help you there."

"You help me there all the time. Junie sleeps like a log every Friday."

"Food coma," he says knowledgeably.

"You really don't have to get me anything, Eddie. My services were administered charitably."

He pushes his hands behind Junie's back and pulls her to his chest before standing. When he has her secure in one arm he pulls the chair back to your small table and tucks it in.

"Get up," he says to you. "I'll do it, alright? Swap with me."

You ignore him until he starts kicking you in the leg. "You're ridiculous!"

"You're ridiculous. Seriously, get up. You're not a serf." He returns your glare. "I'm a big boy, I can clean up after myself."

"It's my house."

"If you don't let me-"

"Christ! Okay." You drop the dustpan and brush sullenly, wiping your hands together as you stand before taking Junie out of his arms. "I'll make dinner."

"No you won't! I'm gonna order takeout," he says factually, already on his knees and sweeping.

"No you're not."

"I am. Me and June already talked about it. She's craving Marino's pizza."

"I'm not gonna let you use the phone."

"I'll walk to my place and order the pizza to here."

"Eddie-"

"Why are you being a hardass?" he asks.

"Fine! God, clean up your gross hair and order your stupid pizza. You're making me crazy," you say, collapsing onto the sofa with a little oomf, Junie's weight hitting you hard in the chest. She moves into a sitting position and pulls your shirt up, hands moving across the space under your chest.

Eddie throws himself into cleaning all the mess you'd made for him, the hair and the towel and the sopping wet draining board. He washes the dirty baby bowl on the side and fills up one of Junie's bottles with water, then a glass for you. He hasn't seen either of you drinking a thing since he's been here, likely his fault for distracting you.

He's about to call for pizza when he peers past the cabinets and sees you dozing on the couch. He decides pizza can wait until tomorrow; it's later than he realised.

Junie's halfway across the room with Mr. Bear playing make believe. She talks and talks and talks, gibberish to him but what's likely an unending, complicated storyline, no doubt.

Eddie approaches with the bottle already outstretched. "Junie," he says, and when she doesn't answer, "Junebug. Junie. Junie." Each iteration of her name softer and sweeter than the first, hoping to entice her in.

He holds the bottle in front of her face.

She finally looks up with a pout.

"For you," he says, offering the water.

She seems mildly interested as she takes it, turning back to her teddy and talking around the teat like it's not there.

You're struggling to keep your eyes open. Eddie gives the room a quick once over before kneeling down in front of you, tugging your shirt down to cover your exposed tummy as he says, "I should head home."

You blink at him and turn onto your side, cheek squishing into the couch cushion.

"Okay? Why don't you and Junebug head to bed?" he asks, using a tone not far from what he'd use with your daughter.

"You know, her full name's Juniper," you whisper.

He didn't know. "Really? I love that."

You wrinkle your nose, sounding very tired as you continue, "But someone told me it sounded like a name for a cat. So I've called her Junie ever since."

"It doesn't sound like a cat's name," he placates. "It's beautiful. You chose well."

"Yeah?"

Eddie smiles at you fondly, eyes tracing down your nose to your lips, shiny with balm. He tilts his head to the side to mimic yours. He could kiss you.

"Sounds like the name of an elf. Juniper Lightfoot, or… Goldwind. She could even be a mage. Juniper the Brave."

"Juniper the Loveliest," you say, and then grin. "Juniper the Hungriest."

"Juniper the All Great and Hungriest," Eddie says decidedly.

"Would you make her a hero, in your game?" you ask.

"Of course I would. She wouldn't even need to divide, she'd just conquer."

"What about me?"

"What, would you be a hero?"

You nod. He doesn't know why, but he thinks his answer is going to hold a lot of weight with you.

"You would be," he starts quietly, words painted slowly as he raises a hand to rest on your wrist, pinky finger spread over the hill of your thumb, "a fighter. With insight and survival."

"I don't know what that means," you say.

He leans in. "It means yes, you'd be a hero. You'd save kingdoms. Slay dragons." He squeezes your wrist.

"I think I better leave all that stuff for Junie. I'll just cheer you guys on from the sidelines."

"You're her mom, she can't do it without you. And even if she could I bet she wouldn't want to. Where's all the fun in guts and glory if you can't share it?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your skin.

Your eyes shut. Eddie doesn't know if it's from fatigue or a want to end this conversation. He feels marginally embarrassed for descending into nerd metaphor with you, but he thinks it's the kind of thing you needed to hear. He thinks if Junie could understand how often her mom prioritises her and misses out for her she'd want to fix that. Eddie doesn't know you half as well as she does and it breaks his heart sometimes to watch you insist on a smaller portion, to watch you put things back at the grocery store because she wants a box of milk duds, even to watch you wear yourself out ironing baby clothes in the only pair of pajamas you own.

"Make sure you lock the deadbolt behind me," he says carefully. You hum. He gives your wrist one last squeeze.

Junie looks tired in that she's getting agitated, whimpering under her breath. Eddie ducks down to give her upper arm a good rub. "Why don't you go cuddle with your mom?" he asks her, turning her by the shoulder so that you're in her eye-line. "Go have a lie down."

He doesn't know whether what he says makes any difference but you extend your arms out and Junie walks towards you, big staggered steps that make him laugh to himself as he pushes into his unlaced converse.

"Don't forget to lock up," he says in place of a farewell.

"Goodnight, Eddie," you say.

He waves. You're both too tired to wave back.

He's surprised to find his Uncle Wayne still home when he gets in, shoving into his work boots with a grunted hello.

"Hey."

"Did you cut your hair?" Wayne asks, perplexed, a little gruff.

"Junie's mom did it for me."

"'Junie's mom,'" Wayne quotes dryly, slugging his bag over his shoulder. He's heard all about Junie's mom.

Eddie scratches the back of his neck and splutters when a big hand claps his back, a demonstration of Wayne's pity as he passes through the open door.

Eddie spins to watch him jog down the steps. "We're friends," Eddie calls.

"Don't be dumb," his uncle says without turning back.

"I'm not exactly known for being smart," Eddie says to himself, cheeks heated by a furious blush.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | multi-chapter

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

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vitzi9

2 years ago

Kiss It Better

A/N- I've seen so many people talking about a Gareth fic where the reader helps him after Jason beats him up but I haven't seen any being posted! I guess I'm glad to be the first

Summary- Gareths neighbor comes over to see him with blood on his face and a nearly broken hand and decides to help fix him up

Genre- Fluff

Warnings- Mentions of blood

Tag List- @imagine-all-the-imagines @ahzysauce

As you were finishing this week’s homework at your desk in your bedroom, you heard a loud crash that seemed to come from just outside.

Being neighbors with Gareth, you knew that him and the other members of his band would get loud, but it was nothing like what you just heard. As you kept listening out your window you could hear yelling, from Gareth and another guy, you weren’t quite sure who, but you could definitely recognize the voice.

You heard speeding tires a few moments later and looked out your window, seeing Jeff and Grant helping Gareth up, his drum set almost destroyed behind him.

The two of you wouldn’t consider yourselves close by any means but growing up across the street from each other gave the two of you a pretty strange relationship. You would call him a friend, but the only time you spend together was at block parties or hanging out when your parents had dinner but really nothing more than that. Still, you cared for him.

He seemed a bit intimidating at first, but in reality, he was just quiet and shy. You knew how sweet he could he just from watching him play with his sisters and he wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You quickly slipped your shoes on and made your way downstairs, just wanting to make sure he was ok. It was out of the ordinary for you to just go up and talk to him out of the blue but whatever happened you could definitely tell he was hurt.

“Hey,” you said as you made your way up his driveway, “are you ok?”

He shook his head, looking at the hand that was just covering his nose, seeing the fresh blood coating his fingertips,

“Jason…”

“Oh shit…” You took a few steps forward and looked at his cheek, a large cut and his nose had a small trickle of blood flowing from it, his face was swollen too, “do you need any help?”

He nodded as his friends let go of his arms. He tried to balance himself as his friends started picking up the different parts if his drum kit off the garage floor to put it back together,

“You guys clean that up, (y/n) would you help me inside?”

You nodded and grabbed his arm, slowly leading him inside.

Though you’d been over a handful of times, you’d never seen it empty. Every time you were over in the past it was either decorated for whatever holiday party your parents had dragged you to or filled with adults, but every time you and Gareth always found a way to spend time together. You’d go up to his room and watch whatever movies he rented for the week or listen to music and talk. One night a few months ago, the two of you were able to sneak off into the garage away from the parents and share a joint, talking about how strange it was to grow up across the street from each other your whole lives and yet you only ever hung out when your parents got together.

You’d wished that your next hang out was under different circumstances, though it was strange to be left all alone with him without having to worry about your parents finding you.

You had to admit, living across the street from Gareth definitely had its perks. You got to see his band during their rehearsals, you watched him play in the front yard with his sisters, and you had to admit he looked pretty cute when he was mowing the lawn shirtless in the summertime. And he could say the same about you. He got to see you in your driveway when your mom insisted on taking pictures on the first day of school every year, he was able to see your reaction when you got your first car, and he loved the view from his bedroom into your backyard, especially when you were lounging around in a skimpy bathing suit.

Most of the time he had to fight with himself over whether or not he should sneak a picture on his polaroid to keep all for himself.

He did feel a bit strange to be left all alone in his house with you, but now all he was focused on was making sure his blood didn’t drip onto the carpet.

You led him into an upstairs bathroom and sat him on the edge of the tub as you searched through the medicine cabinet and vanity drawers, looking for something to try and clean him up.

“Where do you guys keep your band aids?” You said, pulling out a bottle of antiseptic and a few cotton pads from under the sink.

Gareth pointed to the medicine cabinet, and you were able to find them, along with a bottle of Tylenol.

You set everything onto the counter and took one of the washcloths next to the sink, soaking it with cold water and handing it to Gareth to clean himself up. He winced as he pressed the cold fabric to his face, his hand red and bruised, struggling a bit to keep the cloth stable as he pressed it to his face.

“Here,” You sat in front of him and took the cloth from his hand, gently pressing it to the side of his face to try and let the cold ease the pain as it soaked up the bit of blood still trailing from his lip, “better?”

He nodded, and you gave him a shy smile as you sat there cleaning him up. The small spot of blood was able to be cleaned up pretty easily, thankfully it was nothing too severe, but the cut on his lip and the bruise on his cheek were another story. His hand would definitely need some ice too, especially with the condition it was in.

You removed the cloth from his face and set it onto the counter, grabbing the bottle of antiseptic and a few cotton pads. You soaked the pads and set the bottle back onto the counter,

“This is gonna sting a little bit, ok?”

He took a deep breath and groaned as you pressed it gently to his lip, dabbing at it just a bit to clean it.

“It’s not so bad,” He said, trying to ease the tension as the two of you were so close together, “hurts a lot less than a punch.”

You softly giggled at how he managed to still make you laugh while he was so hurt. It was cute that he was trying to mask his pain, but you knew that he was hurting much more than he led on.

“Alright, I think the bleeding stopped, but you definitely need some ice on that hand.” You took his injured hand carefully into yours to look at it. It was red, bruised, and you could tell he was going to be in pain for the next couple of days, “I think you’ll live though.”

“Oh, thank god,” He said as the two of you stood up, his hand still in yours, “I was worried we’d have to amputate.”

You giggled again as you gently let go of his hand, putting away the cotton pads and antiseptic before pulling out a Band-Aid to put against his lip,

“Well, if you think it’s that bad, I can always just use a knife from the kitchen and save you some money.”

He tried to smile but winced from the cut on his lip. You opened the band aid and gently put it over the cut, your fingertips gently brushing over his lips, and you could see the faintest pink over his cheeks.

“There. How do you feel?”

“A little better… Still hurts but I think if I put some ice on it for a bit, I’ll be alright.”

The two of you exited the bathroom and made your way back downstairs into the kitchen.

“You sit, I’ll get you some ice.”

You rummaged through his freezer as he took a seat at the kitchen table. He looked at his hand and winced again as he tried to move his fingers, but you quickly stopped it as you sat next to him, two ice packs in your hand,

“Here, this one goes on your hand,” You said, placing one of the ice packs on top of his hand on the table, “and this one goes…” you said as you gently placed the other onto his cheek, “there.”

You smiled as he held the other ice pack to his cheek, his fingers gently brushing over yours as he held it. He smiled, laughing to himself.

“What’s so funny?” You asked him with a shy smile.

“It’s nothing, it sounds kinda weird…”

“It’s fine,” You said with a giggle, “it can’t be that bad.”

“Well, um…” He looked down at the icepack in his hand, trying not to look up at you, “it’s just been a while since you had to help fix me up you know? Got that weird déjà vu feeling of when we were little and fucking around in the street and I fell over on the curb and skinned my knee really bad.”

You giggled as you remembered that day, there was a block party, and all the kids were running in the street trying to pop all the giant bubbles from one of the other neighbors’ bubble machines. You couldn’t have been older than seven, and you and Gareth kept trying to see who could pop the most and while he was chasing after one, he wasn’t looking and tripped over the curb.

“Yeah, we didn’t want your parents to find out and get us in trouble for messing around in the street. I think I used that same bottle of antiseptic stuff; it looked pretty old.”

“I think so, yeah. Its weird, it felt almost the same, except it was my face that got all fucked up and not my knee.”

You smiled and gently bit your lip, looking down at his hand on the table,

“Yeah, and I didn’t try and kiss it all better like our moms did when we got hurt.”

The two of you sat there in silence for a moment. It was a bit awkward, and you both could tell you had the same thing on your mind.

“You know…” Gareth looked back up at you, breaking the silence, his cheeks and nose glowing the brightest shade of pink, “it might help a little bit.”

You looked back up at him, though your eyes darted back and forth between his eyes and his lips, and his did the same.

You couldn’t tell who moved first, but the two of you slowly inched closer to one another and before you could even process it, your lips were on his.

It was soft, gentle, and though it only lasted a few moments you could feel a gentle spark between you. You had barely seen each other as you grew older, only spending time together at neighborhood functions, and now you were kissing in his kitchen. Neither of you were sure of what to call this new ‘relationship’ you had, but whatever it was, it was nice.

As your lips parted, you both quickly looked to the garage door as Jeff and Grant made their way into the house,

“Hey man, we got your kit put all back together, I don’t think anything’s broken,” Jeff said as he shut the garage door behind him, looking back at the two of you at the table, your faces bright red and your eyes wide with the adrenaline of almost being caught, “you guys alright?”

“Yeah, you look kinda weird.” Grant said with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah were totally fine,” You said, trying to ease the tension from you and Gareth, “I was just going.” You stood up from the table and looked back down at Gareth, “I’ll see you around.”

You said with a smile, waving to him and his friends as you quickly left through the garage door.

“(Y/n)!” Gareth called out to you as he followed you out, reaching for your hand, but wincing once again as he forgot all about the pain, he was feeling in it, “You know um… You don’t have to if you don’t want to but, I was just thinking that maybe when my hand isn’t all fucked up, and my face is looking… like this,” he said with a nervous laugh, “maybe you’d want to um… do something?”

You giggled at his nervousness. He seemed so eager to kiss you and yet just asking you out made him so flustered; it was cute to see how nervous you made him even after watching each other grow up right across the street from one another.

You took a step forward and gave him another gentle kiss, catching him by surprise,

“Yeah, I’d love to.” You said with a smile, leaning in just a bit closer to him, whispering, “Tell your friends its rude to stare.” You gave him another gentle wave as you made your way down his driveway and back to yours.

He turned and saw Jeff and Grant standing in the doorway to the garage. Jeff smiled and approached him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder,

“Nice job man! I guess girls are into guys with scars.”

_______________________________________________

If you’d like to read more of my work, make sure to check out my masterlist 🥰

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vitzi9

2 weeks ago

This is the worst timeline. (x)

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vitzi9

2 years ago

Locker Room (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: Swearing

Tag list: @Mikinyi @justaproudslytherpuff @angelicjinwoo @k12baby @spiderman-berries @ruhro7 @justanotherhappyidiot @dontcallmesavvy @kenzi-woycehoski @gh0stm3g @lagataprrr @spencersbookbag @ygrworld @ambernicole90 @alwaysbeenfamous @angelsarecallin @voteforevilthoughts @iameddiemunsonshair @hellf1reclub DM me if you wanna be on the Eddie tag list!:)

Synopsis: When Y/N realises that Eddie was hiding in the girls locker room, she has the decision to out him or believe him that it was all just a big misunderstanding

Afficher davantage

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vitzi9

1 year ago

i have a hard time believing that Eddie doesn’t act like a virgin every time you have sex

i mean…

just look at him!!

every time he sees you naked, wether it’s the 1st time or the 101st time, the only thing going on in his head is the computer dial up tone.

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vitzi9

2 years ago

What’s going through Ren’s mind when he snaps?

What if we see the CCTV footage and ID the man’s face?

I have this scenario where we see [REDACTED]’s eyes on the footage from the security team when violet inquired about the man leaving our apartment and we get a shiver down our spine. Well never forget those eyes.

So ren comes over and while we're hanging out you start to get that familiar feeling that you got when you saw the tape and immediately jump on high alert and he notices.

“I-is everything alright Angel—“ he stammers.

“You’re wearing make-up? I know that foundation it’s the same company I use.” You noticed. The little things about him that weren’t noticeable before are suddenly coming to like. Call it anxiety but you knew what was going on.

“Yes I-“

“Take it off.”

“Angel—“

“Your sweater too. “

What you were asking might have been a lot. Especially for someone who was adamant about his privacy. But you were too blinded by the fear of that tape.

Someone was in your home. The little things that went missing weren’t usual—however now we know the possible answer as to why.

The “coincidences” of ren are starting to become unusual.

“Maybe I said something wrong. I’m sorry— I should go.” He frantically picked up his phone as he tried to leave.

Quickly stumbling over you grabbed his hand to turn him around. In a panic, he jumped back and fell over.

You pounced on top of him and snatch a nearby water bottle off of the table.

This was your chance.

You gripped his face tightly, nails digging into his cheeks.

“S-stop! you’re hurting me!” He cried out flailing his arms trying to get you off of him. But he didn’t want to hurt you. He could never hurt you.

You squeezed the bottle and surely enough the water washed what you knew was a fake persona away.

The dye, the concealer, the lie.

Those same cold blue eyes that were on the tape are peering up at you in blatant fear, distraught, anger and pain.

What once was a cheerful appearance is now a dark-haired man with concerning dark bags under his eyes.

It was him.

“Oh my god.” You stammered as you crawled back off of him.

In a panic, he felt it all over his face. As if a masked killer and his mask were snatched off.

“What did you do!?” He spat through clenched teeth.

“You— I— I Had a plan damnit!” His voice croaked and cracked as he cried out crawling on his hands and knees to you.

“I wanted to do it right. I wanted to confess I swear!” He cried as mascara dripped down his face.

Scooting on your back to the wall you had nowhere else to go. Ren crawled on top of you while sobbing historically.

“Can you forgive me?”

“I’m so sorry!”

“I’m so fucking STUPID!”

He cried like a maniac. He was insane.

But suddenly he stopped. Like a light switch, he just stopped. It was creepy.

“Can you forgive me?” He slowly looked at us as he placed a gentle kiss on your head.

[sorry for typos]

✦゜ANSWERED: I—????? FOR FREE NONNIE???????? COME BACK WHO ARE YOU LET ME LOVE Y

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Kiss It Better

Locker Room (Eddie Munson x Reader)