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munson-blurbs · 9 months

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Summary: Will's birthday party brings back some familiar faces and gives Eddie the perfect opportunity to make amends with Corroded Coffin, but an unexpected interruption might have him hurtling towards his old ways.

Warnings: some dirty talk (18+ only just in case), drinking/drunkenness (everyone is over 21), pregnancy and labor complications, mentions of past bullying

WC: 8.2k

Chapter 14/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special shoutout to @storiesbyrhi and @corroded-hellfire for helping with the fluffy sections and making this piece strong.

Afternoons at Hawkins Preschool are predictable: storytime on the carpet is followed by the kids’ pack-up routine, and once all belongings are shoved into their proper backpacks, they file out the door to go home.

Predictable is good. It’s safe. And it certainly doesn’t include a fire drill half an hour before dismissal.

Herding nine children through the bustling hallways and trying to ensure no one is left behind is overwhelming enough. Factor in the ear-splitting alarm and the surge of adrenaline pulsing through your students once they re-enter your classroom, and you’ve got the perfect recipe for chaos.

Instead of fighting a losing battle to keep the kids calm and quiet, you’d opted to plunk them down with myriad art supplies and called it a day.

Now, after the last student had been picked up, you and Will are left cleaning the mess they’d made. Broken crayons are scattered across the tabletops, there’s Play-Doh of various colors stuck to the floor, and gold glitter—when did you even acquire glitter?—dusts every surface.

“Seriously…who thought that that timing was a good idea?” Will grumbles, tossing a Crayola stub into the crayon basket. He adopts a nasal, mocking tone. “‘What would help out our teachers? Oh, I know—let’s interrupt their dismissal routines!’”

You laugh despite your own exhaustion. Somehow, you’ll have to muster up the energy to tutor Harris tonight.

Will reaches into the cupboard to grab his car keys, turning back around with a smile that he only offers you when he needs something. “Could I ask you for a little favor?”

There it is. “How little?” You cock one brow as you clip a stack of papers together.

“Eensy weensy. Miniscule. Microscopic–”

“The more you say it, the less I believe you.”

“Okay, okay,” Will acquiesces, twirling his keyring around his forefinger. “So, for my birthday thing on Saturday…a bunch of my childhood friends are gonna be there. Mike, Dustin, Suzie, Lucas, Max, Jane…” he lists them, ticking off each name on his fingers. “Anyway, I was hoping that maybe you could talk to Eddie about a Corroded Coffin reunion? I know they’re on a hiatus or whatever, but if anyone can convince him to play, it’s you.”

He’s not wrong; you’re the most likely person to get Eddie to do, well, anything. But asking him to make amends with Danny and Gareth and getting their band to play a gig three days from now seems like a mountainous task.

Will is staring at you, hands clasped together pleadingly. He’s too optimistic for his own good, and you can’t help but give in.

“Fine, I’ll try. But–hey, don’t get excited yet,” you warn when he pumps his fist in celebration. “‘Try’ is the key word here. I’m not making any promises.”

Your admonition goes unheeded as Will already considers it a victory. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You give him a small, tight-lipped wave as he dashes out the door. You and Eddie were already planning to attend the party; you’d spent part of last night scouring an art store for the perfect gift. And he and Jeff were back to being thick as thieves…maybe this could work.

“All right, Mr. Harris,” you say with a laugh, hurriedly placing tiles of various shapes in front of him. You need to make the most of the few minutes you have left until Eddie arrives. There’s a soft, familiar flutter in your stomach as you think about seeing your boyfriend, but you know you can’t compete with him for Harris’s attention. “Can you find the…trapezoid?” The inflection in your voice makes it sound like a much more exciting task than it really is, and you hope it’s enough to wrangle his focus.

Harris pokes out his tiny pink tongue as he assesses the tiles. He initially reaches for the blue rhombus, but as soon as his little finger touches it, he pulls away as though it’s on fire. “No…that’s not it.” You tuck your lips into your mouth to suppress your amusement as he thoughtfully taps his forefinger on his lips. A solid ten seconds pass before he triumphantly snatches up the correct tile. “Got it!” he beams, showing off the red trapezoid in his hand.

“You did! You got the trapezoid!” You hold up your hand for a high-five, frowning when he shakes his head. His overgrown curls brush along his eyebrows, and you wonder if it’s your place to suggest that Eddie take him for a haircut. “No high-five?”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, now swiveling his whole body in defiance. “I want…tickles!” He holds his arms out, leaving his torso wide open.

Lips pursed in faux consideration, you lower your voice to a hushed whisper. “Hmm…I think that warrants a visit from the Tickle Monster!” You flex your fingers so they resemble claws; he instinctively scrunches up in anticipation, arms tucked into his stomach. You let out your silliest wicked cackle as your fingers dig mercilessly into his sides in pursuit of his most ticklish spots. Delighted peals of laughter emanate from his chest, and you don’t stop until the buzzer rings, signaling Eddie’s arrival.

Harris’s eyes get wide, mischief dancing behind his pupils. “Do you think the Tickle Monster should get Daddy?” he asks, keeping his voice low despite it only being the two of you.

“Oh, absolutely.” You buzz Eddie in while formulating the game plan aloud. “I’ll grab the pizza and you go on the attack. Once the food is secured, I’ll join you.” You stick out your pinky, and he wraps his own around it.

“Ms. Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

His words turn your heart into a chocolate chip cookie fresh out of the oven, ooey gooey and destined to crumble if handled too harshly. “I love you, too, Harris,” you manage, blinking back embarrassing tears. The flood of emotion is absurd; he probably tells his stuffed animals that he loves them with the same fervor, but you can’t deny the adoration with which he looks at you.

He flings his arms around you in a hug, squeezing tight. Face pressed to your ribs, his words are muffled but still audible when he says, “I don’t know why Daddy says it’s hard to say ‘I love you.’”

He doesn’t have time to further elaborate before Eddie’s knocking on the door. “Special delivery for my two favorite people!” Your heart beats faster with the knowledge that he’s on the other side, that you’ll be able to sneak in a kiss or two.

You and Harris share devious grins, the little boy emulating your monster-esque stance from earlier. He creeps behind you on his tiptoes, and bites back a giggle when you slowly open the door, counting down from three under your breath.

“Hi–whoa!” Eddie stumbles back as Harris barrels into him, little fingers dancing across his lower stomach. You quickly snatch the pizza box from Eddie’s grasp and place it on the table before darting back to where his son has ambushed him. You start on his bicep and let your nails travel upwards until they reach the crook of his neck.

“I’m under attack!” Eddie yelps, twitching this way and that way in a meager attempt to protect himself. “I bring you pizza and this is how I’m repaid?” He easily scoops Harris into his arms, flinging him over his shoulder. Harris lets out an exhilarated squeal, carelessly kicking his sock-clad feet into his dad’s chest. “Jesus, little dude. You’re getting too strong.” Wincing slightly from the pinch in his back as he places the boy on the floor, he gives his tush a little pat and tells him to wash up for dinner, reminding him to use soap and water.

As soon as Harris scampers off into the bathroom, Eddie’s grabbing you by the belt loops of the wide-leg jeans you’d changed into when you got home. One hand slides around your waist and the other finds purchase on your cheek as he kisses you deeply, keeping a listening ear out for the telltale pitter-patter of Harris returning.

“Missed you,” he murmurs into your mouth, and you shiver at the intimacy this closeness brings.

You laugh quietly, biting your lower lip. “We just saw each other this morning,” you remind him, sneaking in another quick peck.

Eddie shakes his head. “Y’know what I mean. Can’t do this while you’re on the clock,” he counters, shifting his grip so both hands rest on either side of your face. You think he’s going to kiss you again, but he just gazes into your eyes. “Shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today.” He rests the slope of his nose on yours, only snapping out of his trance at the sound of Harris rapidly switching the faucet on and off. “Let me go check on him before this place is underwater,” he whispers, giving your own ass a smack as he shuffles towards his mischievous son, a cheeky grin deepening his dimples.

You do your best to compose yourself, heat creeping up your neck and into your face. Busying yourself by placing pizza slices onto paper plates does little to distract you; it’s as though every neuron is dedicated to flooding your brain with Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

The way the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheeks when he holds your face. The plush moisture of his lips when he kisses your forehead. The tickle of his brown tresses when he nuzzles into you and takes a deep breath, finally able to relax after a long day.

“Are you expecting a guest?” Eddie pipes up from the kitchen entrance. A perplexed frown overtakes your lips until he gestures to what you’ve laid out in front of you: four slices of pizza, two plain and two with olives, on four plates.

Your vision gets a bit fuzzy with tears when you realize what you’ve done. “No, it’s, um…” Nostrils flare as you huff out a short puff of air, hot under your nose. “Force of habit, sorry.” You’ve been so diligent about only serving three slices, but your preoccupation with his touch had your mind drifting from the task at hand.

It takes him a moment to process what you mean, but when he does, his face falls. It was for Grandma. “It’s okay,” he says, cringing as the words leave his mouth. Because it’s not okay that you’re sad; it’s normal, but frustration still tugs at his heart that he can’t take it away.

It feels wrong to return the slice to the box, so you leave it where it is. Eddie balances the three plates, sliding a plain one in front of Harris. The boy digs in hungrily, sauce caught on the edges of his smile.

“How was work?” you ask Eddie, grabbing a napkin from the pile in the center of the table. It’s a simple question, one that people ask each other all the time, but it stirs up a warmth inside of him. It’s you asking him, fostering a domestic routine that he could follow for the rest of his life. He’d walk through the door of your house, wiping his shoes on the welcome mat you two had picked out together. The kids–Harris, plus another Little Munson or two–would practically knock him down trying to greet him, and he’d engulf them in bear hugs before reaching out to you, kissing your forehead with a murmured, “there’s my girl.”

“Eds?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was good.” He stumbles over the words, trying to clear his head of the fantasy he’d conjured up. “Lotsa paperwork, y’know.” He takes a bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “What about you?”

You shrug, watching amusedly as Harris sinks his teeth into his slice and manages to pull all of the cheese off of the crust in one fell swoop. “The usual. The kids are learning about springtime, so Will decided to do a craft making flowers using finger paint and their handprints.”

“Sounds messy.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree with a weary grin, “but it was super cute, and Will is great with all that art stuff.” You excuse yourself from the table to get the water pitcher and three glasses, stopping when you remember your TA’s request. “He also asked me if a certain local metal band could play his birthday party on Saturday…?”

Eddie pauses mid-chew, nearly choking on his food. The cheese seems to congeal in his mouth when he tries to speak. “Um, I don’t know about that,” he finally manages, nervously massaging the back of his neck. “I haven’t talked to Danny or Gareth since…”

“I know, but you said you wanted to make things right with them,” you point out. “Maybe Jeff can test the waters? See if they’re ready to talk to you?”

“Maybe.” He averts his gaze, staring at the pizza slice without taking another bite.

You don’t want to further push the subject in Harris’s presence; instead, you turn your attention to the little boy. “Anything fun happen at school today, Har?”

“Nah,” he responds automatically just a half-second before his eyes light up. “Actually, yeah! My friend Charlie ate a bug at recess today!”

“Ew!” you exclaim, wrinkling your nose in pure disgust, as Eddie simultaneously poses the question, “what kind of bug?”

“An ant,” Harris answers his dad nonchalantly, as though ant-eating is an everyday occurrence. Perhaps it is, which is even more unsettling.

“Did you eat any bugs?” You’re afraid of his response; you’re unsure why you even asked in the first place.

To your relief, he shakes his head, a forlorn look on his cherubic face. “No, I couldn’t catch any in time.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” you mutter, turning back to your original task of getting something to drink. Though if the topic of bug consumption continues, you’ll need something much stronger than water.

Could Corroded Coffin play again?

It’s a thought that consumes Eddie for the entirety of his drive home, barely able to listen to Harris yammering about how there’s a coin in his jacket pocket that he doesn’t remember putting there. He throws a few lackluster mhms his son’s way and hopes he’s too distracted by the mystery coin to catch on.

We’re getting the band back together. Well, if Jake and Elwood Blues could swing it, maybe he could, too.

He waits until Harris is asleep to call Jeff. Getting his son to do his bedtime routine is easiest on Wednesday nights; he’s usually exhausted after a full day of school and tutoring. The one time that Eddie could use an excuse to procrastinate, Harris is out like a light.

Go to voicemail go to voicemail go to—

“‘Lo?”

Shit. “H-Hey, man,” Eddie begins awkwardly. “How’s it going? Viv doing okay?”

“We’re good. She’s ready to have this baby already. I reminded her, ‘just two more weeks,’ but then she told me to ‘fuck off’ until I’m the pregnant one, so…” he chuckles, more nervous than amused. “Everything good with you? Harris?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. Just, um,” he struggles to find the words, blurting out the first ones that enter his brain. They come out in a rush before he can stop them. “Do Gareth and Danny still hate me?”

Jeff takes a sharp breath in; his reaction does nothing to temper Eddie’s nerves. “They never hated you. They were just…disappointed? Jesus, I sound like my mom.”

Eddie misses his friend’s anecdote, too wrapped up in his head to fully pay attention. Somehow, disappointed stings worse than the prospect of being hated, especially when the people he’s let down are ones who used to idolize him. “Do you think there’s a way they could be…undisappointed in me? Like, enough to forgive me and maybe play a gig this weekend?”

There’s an extended pause, and then a one-word response: “Christ.”

Eddie can picture Jeff rubbing his eyes in exasperation, and he scrambles to explain. “Will Byers–you remember him? He was in Hellfire; had that weird bowl cut thing going on?”

“Mhm.”

“He’s having a birthday thing at the Hideout on Saturday and asked if we could play. Just a coupla songs.”

Jeff thinks for a moment; Eddie can hear him drumming his fingers on a nearby surface.

“Why don’t you come over tomorrow night around…6?” he ventures. “I’ll invite the guys and we can…I dunno, figure something out.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.” He’s about to hang up when he remembers to ask, “Can I bring Harris?”

“Of course.”

“Har, slow down!” Eddie’s barely unbuckled his son’s car seat before Harris has wriggled out of the sedan, bolting straight for Jeff’s door.

“But I haven’t seen Uncle Danny and Uncle Gareth in forever!” he laments, reaching the house far faster than Eddie. He stands on tiptoes and rings the doorbell like a madman, forefinger jamming into the button at warp speed. “Uncle Jeff! It’s me!”

Jeff opens the door with a huge smile. “Mini Munson!” He scoops the boy up into a hug. “What’s new with you, little dude?”

“I got a wiggly tooth!” Harris exclaims, jutting out his jaw and pressing his tongue against the front center of his mouth. Sure enough, the baby tooth moves slightly forward, and he giggles. “Daddy says the Tooth Fairy’s gonna come and leave me a dollar,” he matter-of-factly reports. He peeks his head over Jeff’s shoulder, squealing and squirming out of his grip when he spots the two men sitting on the couch. He flings himself onto the sofa and plunks himself down into Gareth’s lap. “Hi!”

“Hey, kiddo!” Gareth chirps. “You’re getting so big.”

“‘M five now. I had a birthday party because I turned five.” He splays out his palm to offer five fingers.

“Did your friends go?”

“Yup!” Harris beams at the memory. “An’ Daddy an’ Grampa Wayne an’ Ms. Sweetheart.”

Danny furrows his brows. “Who’s Ms. Sweetheart?”

“She’s my almost-mommy. Daddy has to fall in love with her first.”

“Is that so?” Gareth smirks at Eddie. His teasing look is the first crack in the wall that has separated the men for the last six months, and though Eddie is thoroughly embarrassed, it alleviates some of his anxiety.

“Uh, Har Bear, why don’t you go hang out with Auntie Viv while I talk with the guys?”

Viv holds out her left hand, looking utterly exhausted. Her right hand rests on her bump, eyes sending a telepathic message to Jeff that they have five minutes—ten minutes, if Harris behaves well—to come to a solution before she needs a break.

Silence filters into the room as Eddie fumbles to address the mess he’s made. If Danny and Gareth are here, they’re at least willing to listen to him, which is honestly farther than he’d assumed he’d get.

He remembers what Harris said about apologizing; technically, what you’d taught him about apologizing: the act of saying sorry, not merely implying it, makes a world of difference.

“I was an asshole,” he starts. It’s not his most eloquent statement, but it certainly gets the point across. “Not just that night at the Hideout, or at our last practice. I was an asshole for a long time before that. And…I’m sorry.” It feels good to say it; it feels even better that they’re nodding, seeming to believe him. “You guys didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

Of the rest of the band, Gareth is the one to speak first. “I guess I’m just wondering, why? Why be an asshole to us? We’ve always been there for you.”

“I know.” Eddie fiddles with a thread hanging from his t-shirt, pulling on it until it snaps off. He shoves it in his jeans pocket, not wanting to mess up Jeff and Viv’s place. “Honestly…I’m not sure, but I think it’s because you guys are everything I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny asks, tone heavy with disbelief.

“In high school, I was the one you looked up to. The person you wanted to be like. And then I had a kid with some random chick I thought I knew but barely did, gave up my dreams of being a musician, and started selling weed again just to scrape by. And here you guys are. Jeff,” he motions to the friend leaning against the sofa’s arm, “you have a baby on the way with the love of your life. And all of you have goddamn college degrees and jobs that you don’t despise and don’t require you to hide from the law.” He shoves his ringed fingers into his jacket pockets, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “And I was nothing.”

Gareth scratches at the upholstery with one finger, absorbing everything he’s just heard. “You know we never stopped looking up to you, right?” He gives a short laugh when Eddie’s eyes widen. “Yeah, man. Leaving Chicago so you could take care of Harris? Putting your kid before yourself? That’s pretty badass.”

Danny nods. “Ed, if there’s someone here to look up to, it’s you.” Both he and Eddie visibly relax. Shoulders drop from their hunched positions, thin lips unfurling into smiles. “No matter what you went through, you never gave up. Even if it almost killed us,” he adds wryly, referring to all of the sleep-deprived Corroded Coffin practices fueled by black coffee and pure adrenaline.

“No fancy diploma can teach us how to stand up for ourselves, or how not to take shit from people, or how to be a dad,” Jeff pipes up from where he’s standing. “We learn from you, man.”

Eddie’s cheeks burn at the compliments, unsure how to accept them. He’d walked in expecting to have to beg for forgiveness, and they were the ones reassuring him. It’s now or never, and he forges ahead while he still has the courage. “Do you…can we get the band back together?” Can we be friends again is the underlying plea, but it’s too vulnerable a statement to make. “We’ll keep it low-key, I promise. Work, family, anything comes up…we can cancel or reschedule. And I won’t be a dick about it.”

The three other men look at one another, nod and turn back to Eddie with smart grins and mischievous glimmers in their eyes.

“On one condition.” Gareth crosses his arms over his chest, smirking as he sinks back against the couch. “You tell us all about this ‘Ms. Sweetheart.’”

The Hideout, normally dingy and coated in a film of sticky ale, has been decked out for Will’s birthday party. Helium-filled balloons in every color bob along the low ceiling, vibrating with the thumping bass of the old sound system. Crepe paper streamers–purple, Will’s favorite color–sway gently with the air that rushes in from opening the door. This has to be Marshall’s handiwork, and it brings a smile to your face. If anyone deserves a partner who fawns over him, it’s Will.

You spot him surrounded by a group of people as the bartender slides a row of tequila shots across the bar and into their eager hands. While they’re distracted by alcohol, you take the opportunity to dart towards the backstage area.

Eddie’s there, digging around for his lucky pick. You wrap your arms around his waist, fingers pressed into the soft dough of his tummy.

“Hey, Rockstar,” you murmur against his neck, kissing just below his earlobe.

He turns around, jaw dropping when he sees you in a maroon slip dress. The heels on your feet have you two inches taller than usual, and he has to shift where his gaze normally lands to meet your eyes.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby,” Eddie practically growls, kissing you deeply. One hand presses against the small of your back while the other grabs the plush of your ass, kneading it in his palm. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy. How’m I gonna go out there and play with you looking like that?”

“I’ll make it worth your while.” You giggle when he offers up a bemused smile. “If you do a good job tonight, I’ll give you a reward.” You let your fingertips graze over the metal teeth of his pants zipper, feeling him twitch at your light touch.

“You’re dangerous,” he winks, delivering another kiss; this time, he gives your lower lip a little bite when he pulls away. His kohl-rimmed eyes draw you in just as they did that first night you’d met, but now you dive into them without the fear of drowning.

A tactful “ahem” from the now-open doorway startles both you and Eddie, having been floating in an embrace that’s equal parts comfort and desire.

“Sorry to interrupt the lovefest, but we’re on in five,” a man’s voice calls from the doorway. You turn around to see the other three Corroded Coffin members standing there, amusement evident in their expressions.

“You must be Ms. Sweetheart,” one of the guys, soft curls resting atop his head, pipes up. His tone is teasing, but not mocking; the nickname is said with admiration and affection. “I’m Gareth, by the way.”

“Danny,” the one with tight, wiry curls offers, giving a small wave.

Jeff just shrugs. “You know me.”

Eddie grabs his guitar, slinging the strap across his body. His pants’ fly is tight, and he wills himself to calm down before it’s time to perform. He hasn’t worried about being hard on stage since he was nineteen, but thoughts of your bodies perfectly melding into each other has him subtly adjusting himself as he turns his back to his bandmates.

“See ya out there, baby,” he says before pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. The brief contact between you has you biting your tongue in self-beration for suggesting that the band play tonight. All you want is to dance with him, allowing the steady flow of alcohol to dull your inhibitions as you pull him impossibly close. Not caring who sees or what they think.

But this night isn’t about you or Eddie. It’s about Will, your TA-turned-friend who has kept you sane amidst your adorably chaotic students and their decidedly less adorable and more chaotic parents. He wanted Corroded Coffin to play his party, and that’s the least you could do for him.

Will’s already teetering between tipsy and inebriated, breath tinged with the scent of tequila as he introduces you to his friends.

“This is my amazing boyfriend, Marshall.” He smacks a wet kiss to the man’s cheek. “And these are my friends from growing up: Dustin and Suzie, Lucas and Max, and Mike and Jane.” His face melts into a sappy grin as he leans on Marshall to hold him up. “You guys! We’re all in looooove!”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin mutters, rolling his eyes and shaking his head before turning his attention back to you. “Can we get you something to drink?”

Will raises his empty glass. “I’ll take another–”

“Not you.”

You manage to sneak in a quick conversation with Max, Suzie, and Jane before Corroded Coffin starts their set. Max is finishing up her Masters in English literature at New York University, set to graduate in two months. Suzie programs for NASA, and though Florida is a far cry from her home state of Utah, she loves her job. And Jane is a social worker at a local adoption agency, the cause close to her heart, as she was adopted by Chief Hopper years ago.

“Damn,” you laugh, taking a small sip of your vodka soda. You’re having so much fun that you don’t even care that it’s been watered down. “You’re all such badasses!”

Your admiration of their collective girl power is cut short by the sound of Corroded Coffin taking the stage. It’s as though they’d never taken an extended break; just picked up right where they left off. You cheer so loudly that there’s a pinch in your throat, but you push past it. It’s more than applause. There’s so much tucked away in your yell: I’m proud of you; you’re a rockstar; you’re my person forever, if you’ll have me.

“Hello, Hawkins!” Eddie bellows into the mic. There’s no missing the grin on his face. He’s happy. He’s in his element. He’s where he belongs.

“No way!” Lucas exclaims, awestruck as he turns to Will.

“Dude, you got Corroded Coffin?” Mike mirrors his friend’s excitement. He slings an arm around Will’s shoulder and pulls him in for a side hug. “This is fuckin’ awesome!”

“The first song of the night goes out to our guest of honor, Will Byers!” Everyone hoots and hollers as Eddie plays the opening chords to The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go. Eddie told you he remembered that the song was one of Will’s favorites growing up; his older brother had gotten him into the band. Sure enough, Will’s bopping to the rhythm, singing every word, albeit quite off-key.

Corroded Coffin plays a few more songs from their usual setlist, nerves dissipating with each note, before Eddie speaks into the mic again.

“This next one is for my beautiful girlfriend,” he announces, eyes gazing into yours. “Baby, if my teachers looked like you, I actually would’ve gone to class.”

He nods at Gareth, who starts playing an incredibly complicated beat. As soon as you hear it, you feel your cheeks heat up. The rest of the guys join in on their own instruments, and Eddie oozes bravado as he sings.

“T-Teacher stop that screamin’ Teacher don’t you see Don’t wanna be no uptown fool.”

Max leans in to you and whisper-shouts, “I’ve known Eddie for years, and I’ve never seen him so…happy.”

Lucas overhears his girlfriend and adds his two cents. “That’s because we’ve never seen him in love.”

Warmth spreads all over your body, but it’s not from embarrassment. Allowing yourself to believe that Eddie loves you—is in love with you—opens a door you’d deadbolted until the time was right. You hadn’t wanted to rush things, but the jolt of exhilaration following Lucas’s statement means you can’t deny it any longer: you love Eddie Munson. You’re in love with Eddie Munson.

“Got it bad, got it bad, got it bad I'm hot for teacher I've got it bad, so bad I'm hot for teacher.”

Will takes the opportunity to twirl you around, and you laugh as you spin amongst new friends, your drink threatening to spill over the sides as he turns you faster.

“Hey! Thank you, by the way!” he shouts, probably a bit louder than he needs to.

“For what?”

“For getting Corroded Coffin to play!” He jerks a thumb towards the stage, stumbling a bit as he does. He’d managed to sneak another tequila shot when his boyfriend left him unattended to use the restroom, and it definitely shows. “And for, like, being there for me.”

You give him a hug, immediately understanding the full implication of his statement. “I’ll always have your back,” you promise, filled with the mingled buzzes of alcohol and belonging.

“I think of all the education that I've missed But then my homework was never quite like this!”

Eddie jumps off of the tiny stage and into the crowd of nine twenty-somethings, each at various levels of tipsiness, and reaches for you to pull you close to him. He’s sweating from constantly moving around and the stage lights, his fingers slick with perspiration as he laces them with yours. Jeff picks up the rhythm for the lead guitar while Eddie kisses you, soft and slow and sensual. He loses himself for a moment before hopping back up to join the rest of the band.

As Corroded Coffin wraps up their Van Halen cover and stops for a quick sip of water, there’s a small commotion behind the bar.

“Is there a Jeff Reynolds here?” the bartender calls out, phone receiver in hand.

Jeff gives a little wave, eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s me.”

“Someone named Jess on the line? Says your girl is in labor and you need to get to the hospital.”

“Holy shit!” Danny claps a hand to Jeff’s back and grins. “C’mon, man! Let’s get you outta here!”

Jeff freezes up; hands clammy as he grips the guitar’s neck. “Can you drive?” he asks Eddie.

Eddie recognizes the fear in his friend’s voice. The selfish part of him wants to refuse to take Jeff to Hawkins General. He could easily plant his feet on the stage and keep playing, claiming that ‘the show must go on.’

No, he silently chastises himself, Jeff needs me. He needs me and I’ll be damned if I let him down again.

“Of course,” Eddie says, trying to force a relaxed disposition. It doesn’t matter; Jeff is too overwhelmed to notice the obvious effort.

“Take my car,” you offer, keys already dangling from your fingertips. “Eds, I can take yours and pick up Harris from Wayne’s tomorrow.” It’s easier to swap rides than to uninstall and reinstall the carseat, so you’re perplexed when Eddie shakes his head.

Two words slip through his lips, soft but pronounced: “Need you.”

Dustin catches wind of the situation and insists on watching Harris until you and Eddie can come back home, claiming he needs to squeeze in as much uncle-nephew bonding time as possible before returning to Florida.

“Henderson, it’s late; don’t let him stay up,” Eddie warns as he tosses over his car keys.

Dustin tries catching them in one hand, but they hit the center of his palm and fall to the ground. “But the best part of being an uncle is breaking the rules!” he laughs as he scoops the keys off of the floor. “By the way, I’m not drunk; just a shit baseball player.” Still, Eddie’s sigh of relief is audible when Suzie plucks the keyring from Dustin’s hand.

With Harris taken care of, you turn your attention to your boyfriend. Eddie’s face is flushed pale, and you’re worried about him behind the wheel. “Want me to drive?”

He nods and grabs onto your hand as you lead the two men to your car. Eddie’s doing his best to keep Jeff calm, reminding him that the doctors and nurses have everything under control until he gets there.

“I’m gonna be a dad,” Jeff murmurs, a disbelieving chuckle permeating the otherwise silent car. “Holy shit.”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. “It only gets crazier from here.”

The bright lights of the hospital’s waiting room are anything but soothing, especially compared to the dimly-lit bar you’d just left. You speak to the receptionist, an older woman with a tired smile and red-rouged cheeks, explaining the situation as she pages Jess while Jeff and Eddie take a seat.

Jeff’s voice is nearly impossible to hear despite the stillness of the room. “The baby was breech at Viv’s last appointment.” He clocks Eddie’s confusion and elaborates. “Feet first, instead of the head. If they didn’t get into the right position and the doctors can’t, I dunno, flip ‘em around? They’ll have to do a c-section.” Long overdue tears spill over his lash line, and he makes no attempt to swipe them away. “I just wanna fix it and I can’t.”

Helplessness. It’s a feeling Eddie knows all too well. He spins a ring around his finger, exhaling softly as he considers a response. He can’t say it’ll be alright, because he has no idea whether or not it will be. He and Jeff both know that.

“No matter what, I’m here for you.” Eddie’s gaze flits over to the receptionist’s desk, where Jess has now arrived and is waving her brother-in-law over. “You’re up.”

But Jeff remains in his chair, hands shoved under his thighs as though they’re glued to the seat. “I…I don’t know if I can do this. What if something happens to Viv or the baby? How can I…?” He doesn’t allow himself to complete the sentence, to finish the thought.

Instinctively, Eddie puts his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. He can feel them trembling slightly as his friend heaves another shaky breath. “Listen to me. You’re gonna do this. You’re gonna go in that room and watch your girl give birth to your baby. Because if you don’t, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your fuckin’ life.” He glances around and lowers his voice. “I know you’re scared, okay? I get it. And once your kid is safely here, we can talk about it. But right now, you need to pull it together and go be a goddamn dad.”

Jeff nods, finally acquiring the physical stability to stand. “Thank you,” he whispers, clearing his throat and wiping the wet stains from his cheeks. He starts towards Jess before turning back to Eddie. “Could you stay until the baby’s born? If you have to get home to Harris, I understand…”

There it is: his out. He can easily use his son as an excuse, despite the fact that Dustin and Suzie were perfectly capable of babysitting him. He can hightail it out of here and never look back. He can crawl into bed and feel sorry for himself for having to step foot in a godforsaken maternity ward again.

“Yeah. I can stay.”

Nearly an hour passes with Eddie’s head resting on your shoulder, relaying what Jeff told him. Identical knots form in your stomachs as the seriousness of the complications sets in. You don’t say a word as he speaks; you just try to shift without disturbing him. The cushion on the chair back, worn thin, digs into you uncomfortably, but you don’t dare move too much. His vulnerability is a deer that will scamper away at the slightest startle.

You think he’s fallen asleep until you feel his soft lips on your cheek, a muffled, “mine?” against your skin. You note his phrasing; it’s careful and unsure, a symptom of being in his own head for far too long.

“Of course I’m yours,” you whisper back, pressing a kiss to his scalp. “What’s got you asking such silly questions?”

“I don’t like this.” It’s an answer and non-answer all in one.

“Being in a hospital?”

He shakes his head, frizzed curls tickling the crook of your neck. His forehead is sticky with cooled perspiration. “Waiting to see if the baby is okay.”

The realization hits you like a punch to the stomach, immediately hollowing you out. The last time he went through this, it was when Harris was being born. You can’t think of anything to say, so you just nuzzle in closer to him and exhale.

“Why do I feel like this?” Neither of you are sure if he’s asking you, himself, or the universe. “‘S not the same. Viv’s not using drugs; Jeff stuck around the whole time…”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s not how this stuff works, y’know?” You adjust your position so you can look into his eyes. The whites are stained red with worry and exhaustion. “Your gig got interrupted, just like when Harris was born. And there's uncertainty now, too. It’s normal for these kinds of memories to get dredged up.” Your palm rests on his cheek, thumb gently stroking the skin as you ask, “can you try to get some sleep?”

“But what if Jeff needs—”

“I’ll wake you up if he needs you,” you reassure him, settling back into the chair. You lean your head against the wall; the heaviness in your eyelids battles the anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it seems as though sleep is winning.

Eddie’s hand finds your forearm, rubbing up and down the gooseflesh that has appeared courtesy of the air conditioning blasting through the building. Shrugging off his jacket and resting the leather fabric over your shoulders, he can relax once he’s reassured that you’re comfortable. He assumes his previous position, using your shoulder as a pillow and falling asleep gradually, body jostling itself awake from the unfamiliar sleeping arrangement. Eventually, you can hear his soft snores; for the first time tonight, he’s peaceful.

You could tell him now, a whisper under your breath that he’s unlikely to hear. I love you, Eddie. I’m in love with you. Your lips part in anticipation, but you snap them shut. You’re delirious and overwhelmed; Lucas’s throwaway comment about Eddie being in love is rattling around your brain. If you say it and Eddie hears you…

You keep it to yourself for now, letting your body rest while still supporting Eddie’s head. Tomorrow is a new day, with a new life brought into the world. Love—if that’s even what this is—will have to wait until then.

The soft pink of breaking daylight streams through the windows when Jeff wakes Eddie up six hours later, shaking him by the shoulders.

“What the fuck?” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes. When he registers where he is and the potential urgency of the situation, he sits up straight, head filling with fuzziness from the sudden movement. He wouldn’t call the evening restful, but he’d managed to doze off for longer than he’d expected.

“It’s a girl!” Jeff announces, beaming from ear to ear. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, bursting with enthusiasm and emotion.

As soon as Eddie’s vision clears, he’s on his feet and pulling his best friend in for a giant hug. When he steps back, he realizes that he and Jeff sport matching misty eyes. “Dude, you’re officially a dad now. You have a daughter!”

“I have a daughter,” Jeff repeats incredulously. His eyes cloud with tears, and he blinks them away as he peers over at the empty seat next to Eddie. “Did your lady go home?”

Eddie swivels around, so caught up in the moment that he hadn’t realized he was alone. She left. She left without me; she didn’t want to stick around and deal with–

“Did Viv have the baby?” Your excited voice penetrates through his intrusive thoughts as you stroll in from the hallway. The makeup around your eyes is smudged; you’d tried to wipe some of it off in the bathroom, but water and thin hospital paper towels are no substitute for makeup wipes. “Sorry, I had to pee.”

Eddie smiles at the sight of you, still wearing his jacket. He hopes his sigh of relief is concealed by Jeff’s exuberance. “A girl. Six pounds, ten ounces.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Wanna meet her?”

“Of course!” You and Eddie begin following him down the corridor. “Wait, is Viv feeling up to having visitors?” You’re mildly ashamed to admit that, in your eagerness, you’d forgotten about the baby being breech and the possible c-section.

Jeff nods. “I think my daughter’s gonna be a gymnast, ‘cause she’d flipped herself back around between the appointment and last night.”

There’s no masking Jeff’s pride when he says my daughter, and it makes Eddie want to hug him again. “That’s amazing,” he murmurs. There’s a small pang in his heart, a bead of resentment that Harris’s birth didn’t go so smoothly, but it’s unimportant right now. His best friend just became a father, and he refuses to let his own hang-ups take away from this moment.

“Hi,” you whisper when Jeff opens the door to room 1007. Viv is propped up against pillows, exhausted but happier than she’s ever been before. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the hours-old bundle in her arms. “How are you?”

“Sore,” she replies truthfully, brushing her forefinger against her baby’s closed fist, “but the epidural was a lifesaver.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you tease, unaware that your words have Eddie’s heart skipping a beat at the idea of you bearing a little Munson. “Is it okay if I hold her?” You don’t want to intrude on the new mother’s bonding time, but your insides turn to mush when the baby opens her tiny lips and yawns.

Viv carefully places the newborn in your arms, and you gingerly adjust to support her head. Eddie swears that you holding a baby, in that dress, wearing his jacket, is the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. “Did Jeff tell you her name?” Viv asks, stifling a yawn. When you and Eddie both shake your heads, she smiles and glances at her partner.

He clears his throat, suddenly bashful. Eddie forces himself to tear his gaze from the way you smile and coo at the baby and look over at Jeff. “Her name is Nicolette,” he starts, “but that’s a big name for a little girl, so we figured we can call her Ettie, and she’ll kinda…share a nickname with you.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, convinced he heard incorrectly. “You…I’m her namesake?”

“Mhm,” Jeff confirms, the grin never leaving his face. What neither you nor Eddie know is that they had had a different name picked out, and had fully intended on using it until the first time Jeff held their daughter. It filled him with a feeling of wholeness, of being complete, and it strangely had him thinking of his best friend. Without Eddie taking him under his wing, he might not even be here to experience this.

It was only by chance that he had stumbled upon Hellfire Club during his freshman year. He was running from Billy Hargrove and his posse, who were determined to beat the hell out of him simply because they could, and had ducked into the drama room to protect himself. Eddie had taken one look at his face and immediately recognized the expression of fear and defeat from being incessantly bullied. “You know how to play Dungeons & Dragons?” he’d asked, and when Jeff had managed a nod, he’d pulled up a chair and motioned for him to sit down.

Being Eddie’s friend, being part of something, gave him a reason to keep going. To live. And in that instant, he vowed to teach his child to extend kindness toward any misfits who need a place to be themselves.

“What about Nicolette?” he’d asked Viv. “Ettie for short.”

You turn to Eddie now, continuing the steady rocking rhythm that keeps Baby Ettie calm. “What do you say, Mr. Namesake? Wanna hold her?”

There’s a brief flash of panic that floods through his veins; he hasn’t held a newborn since Harris. He’d always worried about dropping him or tripping and falling. Truth be told, he was terrified until his son could hold his own head up.

It’s similar, but not the same, he reminds himself, shuffling even closer to you so you can safely transition Ettie into his arms. She stirs slightly in her swaddle but doesn’t cry.

“Hey, little lady,” he says, a delicate smile dancing on his lips. “I’m your Uncle Eddie. The coolest uncle you’ll ever have, for the record.”

“Harris is gonna love her,” you add, heart swelling at the imagery of him cuddling up to his newest cousin.

“Babe?” Viv pipes up from the bed. “Can you grab me something to eat? ‘M starving.”

“Yeah, of course.” Jeff turns to Eddie. “Come with me? I think Viv needs to feed Ettie, anyway.”

Viv extends her arms and Eddie begrudgingly hands the baby to her. Ettie’s so adorable and small, and it makes him yearn for the days when Harris was that little. Maybe not the sleepless nights or the lack of head control, but the scent of baby powder, the toothless smiles, the way he would fall asleep in Eddie’s arms to whatever song happened to be on the radio. Harris Munson might have been the only infant to be soothed by Twisted Sister.

The two men make their way to the hospital cafeteria, sneakers squeaking along the freshly-waxed linoleum tiles.

“I, um, I’m really proud of the way you stepped up for Viv,” Eddie says, eyes trained on the floor. “You’re a great partner. I feel like I should be taking notes.”

Jeff laughs, shaking his head. “That's where my expertise ends. I have no idea how this whole fatherhood thing works.”

“Wanna hear a secret?” Eddie leans in, shifting his weight onto one foot. He doesn’t wait for his friend’s response to divulge, “none of us do. We’re just…” he waves his hand aimlessly, “…figuring it out as we go.” And making plenty of mistakes along the way, he silently adds.

“I don’t know how you did this alone,” Jeff puffs out an incredulous breath. “I mean, I know you had Wayne’s help…” he trails off, not needing to further elaborate on the missing parent.

“Yeah, me either, man. I’m just glad I’m not alone anymore.”

Jeff stops walking, turning to face him. There’s the unmistakable look of pride that manages to make itself prominent despite his evident exhaustion as he says, “You really want this with her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, man,” Eddie chuckles. “It’s like, for the first time, I’m not just thinking about just me or just Harris. I’m thinking about us as a family.” The dinnertime conversations, the gentle ribbings, the tenderness that seamlessly weaves itself into vulnerable conversations.

“She’s good for you,” Jeff agrees. “And you love her.”

“I mean, I—”

“That was a statement, not a question. You love her.”

And in a single breath, Eddie lets go of the fear he’s been clutching to like a life preserver. The one thing he hasn’t allowed himself to say aloud because it makes it so real, so fucking real.

“I love her.”

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @lost-in-the-stars03 @aysheashea @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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ghostlykeyes · 6 months

Note

Hear me out

Grunge bf kayn with a hyper feminine gf , like his gf loves sanrio and cute stuff 🫢🫢🫢

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL KAYN: ULTRA-CUTE PARTNER HEADCANONS ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TWs ♡ I am so fucking rabid for the idea of this combo...demon bf/ hello kitty reader SUPREMACY

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

KAYN

At first, the pairing confuses people, but those that see you and Kayn together recognize that somehow you just work. You soften Kayn's sharp edges in a way that he only lets those closest to him see, and Kayn helps highlight the fact that even though you look innocent and soft, there's more to you than that.

Both you and Kayn recognize how much work it can be to curate and present an aesthetic. That's part of what helps you two mesh so well, even though on the surface, you're entirely different. There's a mutual respect for the other, stemming from understanding.

Though he keeps them stashed in a bathroom drawer, Kayn's got a matching set of soft bunny-ear headbands for when you sleep over. Usually he just bobby-pins his hair back to wash his face, but when you're there, he'll pull out the cute headbands so you can match during your morning/night-time routine. For the sake of his image, please, please don't ever show anyone your bunny-eared, spa-masked selfies.

Kayn has you saved as 'prince/princess' in his phone. Fitting, since you're the patron saint of all things cute and soft, no?

The guys tease him whenever they catch Kayn with your things around the apartment, like when he's washing your pink Starbucks cups or pulling your cinnamoroll pajama pants out of the dryer. "Changing your look, Kayn?" They'll smirk, but he just rolls his eyes and sneers. "It's (y/n)'s, obviously," he bites. He's not really embarrassed, though—truth be told, he loves the way your life has leaked into his enough for others to notice. Besides, those nerds are probably just jealous that he bagged such a fucking perfect cute pastel angel.

Obviously, Kuromi is Kayn's favorite, if he has to pick one. You won him a little Kuromi figure from a claw machine, once, and he actually keeps it on top of his dresser, in full view for everyone to see. (It's probably the cutest thing he owns, and though he might not admit it, he fucking treasures that little figurine.) He sometimes says he's your Kuromi, though not usually in earshot of others. The similarities are uncanny—a proclivity for black, a tendency for mischief—they even have almost the same birthday!

Whenever you're in his room, Kayn sets his LED strip lights to pink for you.

If Kayn's going to be gone for awhile, touring and the like, he always gifts you a Calico Critters set the night before he leaves. "Try to take good care of them, yeah?" He smirks. "I don't wanna come back to the mouse family in the middle of a custody battle."

Kayn stashes a plushie in his underwear drawer, so you'll always have something to snuggle with when you stay with him (besides him, of course).

The visual contrast when Kayn lets you borrow a hoodie or jacket is nothing short of jarring. Here you are, this adorable thing in Mary Janes and a pastel skirt, sporting a bleach-dyed hoodie with a death metal logo. Kayn, of course, thinks the contrast is fucking adorable.

Kayn gently teases you about your bedroom—"I didn't even know this many pink things existed," he'll say"— but the truth is, he loves being in there with you. The softness makes him feel totally surrounded by you. It's gentle. Safe, even. Drinking from Sanrio glasses and slipping underneath a strawberry-printed comforter to spoon you may not be his usual style, but you make it feel so natural. (Sleeping in your bed, though? Kayn doesn't love that as much. He moves around in his sleep enough as is, but now he's got to worry about accidentally shoving your favorite Hello Kitty off the bed? Not fun.)

Kayn's favorite cutesy thing to buy you is sleepwear. Those pastel, soft-fabric cami and sleep shorts combos? Fucking delicious. There's at least three sets of your pajamas stashed in his PJ drawer, and Kayn bought all of them.

#Kayn #Heartsteel Kayn #Kayn/reader #Kayn x reader #heartsteel x reader #Heartsteel #Kayn headcanons #Heartsteel headcanons #Heartsteel/ reader #this pairing is burrowing into my brain and making a home like parasitic worms #I love

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calware · 3 months

Text

headcanons on who would have kids

june: i don't think she'd have kids, she feels more like an aunt to me that lets her nieces and nephews stay up past their bedtimes. that said i am so intrigued by the concept of everyone being gods that are centuries-old and virtually detached from their humanity and she snatches a random kid. and everyone is like june you can't. you can't do that. put it back

rose: i don't think she would have kids 😔 she feels SOOOOO GUILTY about it too because she feels like she's Supposed to have a kid and is Supposed to be a good mother to like, prove something, or make up for her own childhood, but she just can't. i think if she did have kids she would be one of those moms who loves their kid and takes care of them and provides for them but still regrets it and hates herself for regretting it. she likes helping with kids though

dave: depends on the scenario honestly there are so many ways this could go

jade: i think she would have kids, i imagine she ends up like a grandmother with 100 grandkids lol. they all get together for big family reunions with lots of food and warm rooms and laughter and music

jane: LOL no

roxy: i also don't think she would want kids, i think this is something she would realize later in life, maybe even after having a kid

dirk: allergic to the idea of having a kid so so bad. despite this he cannot help but unwillingly end up as some kid's mentor/guardian/pseudo father-figure because he's cursed. with a support group he's okay though once he chills out for 2 seconds

jake: take a wild guess

karkat: doesn't decide to have kids but he somehow ends up taking care of like 5 random ones. where did they come from? maybe they were adopted. maybe they all started following him around and never left. maybe they were all left at his front door in a milk crate. either way, they're his responsibility now. he's not the stepfather, he's the father that Stepped Up

kanaya: i also don't think she would have kids but i do think she would be very involved with kids. i like the idea of her working with grubs in the brooding caverns before they find families/communities/lusii/etc to take them in. or a short-term foster parent. again i'd like to think rose helps her with this

terezi: realistically i cannot see her raising a child by herself unless it's in a very comical context like the paradox space comics, which i imagine would be VERY entertaining from an outsider's perspective. terezi teaching a baby legal jargon. terezi wearing those baby carriers that you strap to your chest while careening down the interstate. terezi fingerpainting with a baby, but she's picking up the baby and using it like a baby-shaped paintbrush

vriska: 😬

gamzee: he's already kind of calliope's dad? in a way

#feel free to give me your own ideas even if they are contradictory these are just my own thoughts

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honey-milk-depresso · 3 months

Note

Batboys watching anime with reader

You know my ass went FULL ON LOCK MODE with Tim. I went crazy- 💀

***S/o is above 18, which means characters below are also aged up!

Doing requests until 1 Feb! Please see my pinned post and read the request rules on the navi! Thank you!🩷

Batbros watching anime with you

Dick Grayson

He’s watched a few 90s anime before, more the basic ones like One Piece and Pokémon, and he probably still watches them to this day. Boy has old CDs he has and you should probably try finding a Blue Ray (or use his if he can have Tim help fix it because it’s good as dead 💀) because he’s popping in every CD of old anime’s he have lying about.

“Wow, I didn’t know I had cowboy bebop! Or Slam Dunk!” He got a few rare gems, which makes it all the more fun to sit down on the couch under a blanket as you huddle and watch the nostalgic 90s anime shows together while eating popcorn.

He doesn’t mind watching new, modern day animes, just be prepared for when you two watch sad anime shows because he will sob like it’s the end of the world.

“NO, WHY WOULD KAORI DIE LIKE THIS?? AND SHE LOVES ARIMA- OH MY GOD IM SO—”sobs even more. He gets emotional while watching them because it’s so sad that it’s sO GOOD-

Loves dancing to those danceable anime music with you. He goes ALL. OUT. He even sings all of it in Japanese like wow-

I would love to hear him sing Cruel Angel’s Thesis in his Discowing suit and with goth makeup on it because it “sets the mood”, PLEASE-

Overall, great time watching with Dick. <3

Jason Todd

You expect someone like him to like Chainsaw Man, Trigun or something like those grunge-y, guns and knives animes, right? I mean, he does, but only with you and ONLY with you will he let his inner Magical Girl enthusiast ass shine. Because he LOVES Magical Girl animes. That’s probably the reason and one point of time why he wore red ribbons around his arms, he wanted that Sailor Moon experience and Tim might’ve just teased him about that era without knowing his love for Magical Girl animes and Jason might’ve flipped and freaked the fuck out and started chasing him down the manor.

Jason watches Sailor Moon, Madoka when he feels edgier than usual, Cardcaptor Sakura, every Precure series, Tokyo Mew Mew, man has all these shows somehow. He swears they weren’t through illegal means and he just worked very hard to gather all of them. He also might be a shoujo anime fan because if he loves Jane Austen books, you bet his ass would be reading Fruits Basket, Maid Sama or something because of course he would.

Also a Studio Ghibli fan, although watching the Tale of Princess Kaguya might make him feel too much, especially getting pissed off with the dad who forces his daughter into a wealthy life without her input and- yeah, you gotta calm him down as he cries bitterly and sourly with a pout on his face.

The two of you can go on and on about debating about unclear endings of animes all day long. You know the “AND SHE WAS A PRINCESS” video? That’s Jason.

Great man to watch anime with, and he’ll gladly be your Tuxedo Mask to your Sailor Moon (and not the “But you did nothing meme- or the other way around- he don’t mind being the Usagi-). <3

Tim Drake

I’m very convinced this man got into his whole detective shit because he watched Detective Conan and honestly I can’t blame him. Tim has probably the largest vessel of anime knowledge out of all of them. He doesn’t really have a specific genre he likes but he’s pretty fond of old 90s and 80s animes. He can explain the whole lore of One Piece, Fairytale, Pokémon like Jesus Tim, calm down- 💀

I can see him watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, Serial Experiments Lain or Key the Metal Doll because he likes that little bit of horror nature and mystery and thriller in his animes although he really doesn’t mind watching Haikyuu all over again if you want to.

Might introduce you to underrated and/or old animes like Revolutionary Girl Utena, Nadia the Secrets of Blue Water, every Studio Ghibli movie, those kinds of animes that give off the really pretty and aesthetic old anime animations that is just so pretty to watch and with really good storylines that both of you can cuddle on a couch together and watch. I bet he even watches anime with you even before you two got together, so you guys pretty much have “watching anime together” as part of the foundation of your relationship. Owns so much manga that you can’t even count, too.

Just… don’t make him watch those really slow burn, comedy love animes, specifically Love War. Not that he don’t like romance animes, he watches Ouran High School Host Club and Your Name, trust me, but Love War? He is going absolutely insane because of it.

“OH MY GOD- PLEASE JUST KISS ALREADY. ME AND S/O ARE ALREADY TOGETHER FIVE MONTHS AGO ANF YOU TWO ARE STILL TOO PROUD TO ADMIT YOU LOVE EACH OTHER WHILE BLUSHING- JUST KISS ALREADY-” <3

Damian Wayne

Damian likes anime. Would 100% go to an anime convention with you as a date if you’re up for it. He doesn’t mind (surprisingly- just for you only-).

He doesn’t necessarily like showmen animes although he has enjoyed a few, but he really loves slice of life, I feel. It just feels like he wants to put himself in a normal life and with a tad bit of drama in it like what the characters go through. The touching ones like Hyouka or Natsume’s Book of Friends.

Also animal related anime maybe except Beastars because he didn’t understand shit-?? He calls that peak anime. Aggretsuko, Chi’s Sweet Home and My Roommate is a Cat?? Damian loves this shit, he watches it intently with his arm around you. Even if he doesn’t smile, you know he loves it by the way his eyes sparkle.

Just don’t tell his brothers. He will seriously feel betrayed if you do so because he only watches these kinds of shows with you: the cute animal ones that are actually wholesome and/or funny.

The whole family is into Studio Ghibli, and he is no exception. He feels like it’s the best kinds of anime to watch with you when you guys just want to turn in for the day and huddle up on the couch. It’s one of the rare times he relaxes and softens and he’s glad to have quality time with you. <3

Duke Thomas

He likes anime! Studio Ghibli is definitely a favourite of his and he would gladly watch it together with you! He also love a fair bit of Shounen animes, the more popular ones like Jujutsu Kaisen, One Piece, Haikyuu, or Spy x Family. He likes them a lot!

A big fan of romance animes too: Ouran High School Host Club and The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya (if you two are in the mood to huddle on the couch together and cry).

Duke doesn’t mind any kind of anime so long as it doesn’t have too much horror or gore like… Higurashi. He gets chills when that anime is mentioned. D-Don’t watch it for your own sake if you don’t know. And if you do, avoid it with him at all cost because he will.

Duke also like singing some good anime songs with you and you guys can go crazy and dance around, just not as dramatic as Dick.

He would be super excited to spend a date with you watching shounen anime movies like from Jujutsu Kaisen and he would be so hype to spend time with you being a fanboy while also sharing that romantic air for the shared love of anime between you two and the love that you two share, although that love is far stronger. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Yoongi:

Lock Me Up | Intro/Part 1

In which his job is pretty clear on paper; find the witness, bring her in, write down what she saw and then let the witness protection program handle the rest. The only problem: You've got other plans.

Tags/Warnings: Detective Agust D my friends, Criminal Kitty!Reader, hybrid Yoongi, mentions of murder, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of past abuse, strangers to enemies to I don't even know, sexual tension

Length: Long, 4k words

Next ->

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"So, just her then?" He asks, reading the files about his most recent case. "Double homicide, and she got away?" He wonders, as the young officer shrugs at the table.

"According to another witness, she saw her run out of the house we found the victims in, and she apparently got chased down the street- but a butcher downtown told a patrolling officer that she was fine the day after." He explains, making Yoongi sigh.

"Well, finding a cat in D-Town." The man takes the files for himself, grabbing his coat. "How hard can it be?"

Turns out, it's not that hard at all, considering the high percentage of hybrid population in D-Town.

He's walking into the small restaurant, most of the people eating and working being hybrids, immediately looking at him with suspicion as all conversation quiets down. He's used to it by now, most hybrids aware of what he is, his reputation amongst each and every one of them one of a traitor. "I'm searching for a female hybrid. Feline." Yoongi asks one of the servers behind the counter, cooks turning around to watch the detective. "Has a ID number tattooed into her left ear. 0713." He offers an image depicting you caught by the security camera of a small grocery shop nearby.

But much to his expectation, everyone shrugs, shakes their heads, won't tell him anything. It's a typical pack-mentality amongst hybrids- no matter what, they stick together against the human dominated police force.

"Alright, let's ask for your papers then. Mind me having a look at all the legal documents for your little establishment?" He melodically threatens, and it's clear that it makes the young server and her husband close by nervous, her eyes immediately looking at two young twin hybrids watching a cartoon on an old CRT-TV. "She's.. upstairs. She didn't do anything, she's a good girl-!" The woman begs, yells after the detective as he immediately makes his way up the stairs, only her husband holding her back.

The moment Yoongi opens the door to what he assumes might be a bedroom though, you're clearly there-

Jumping straight out of a window.

"Fuck.!" He calls out, running back downstairs to run after you, whole restaurant laughing and cheering for you as you dash away from the detective, heels clicking on the pavement as you run away. He has to admit that he's a little impressed by your ability to jump over obstacles and run so fast with those mary janes, though it's clear after a while that he's got the better stamina of the both of you. He's catching up to you.

But you're clearly already very knowledgeable in police chases, because you suddenly jump up against a wall of a small building, managing to somehow heave your entire body up the ledge to get onto the roof.

"So what now, huh?!" He calls out to you, breathing heavily just like you are. "One call and I've got the fucking thing surrounded. Just get down, I'm here- fuck.." He breathes for a second, before catching his composure again. "-I'm not here to arrest you."

"Hmm.. nah, I'm good." You simply answer, sitting close to the edge of the roof now.

"That wasn't a question." He calls out back up to you, one brow raised in annoyance. "Get down."

"No." You simply answer stubbornly, your tail swaying from left to right behind you, since you've moved to lay on your stomach instead, arms on the edge of the rooftop, chin resting on top of them.

"Alright. Hybrid 0713, you're under temporary arrest for suspicion of involvement in a double homicide case." He orders out to you. "Now get down here-"

"Does that ever work on anybody?" You ask after a moment of silence with an almost bored tone to your voice, face clearly showing genuine interest in the answer though.

He licks his lips, hands now in his pockets. "Not really if I'm honest." He shrugs honestly, making you giggle. "Come on now, I seriously only need you for questioning, I don't care about any other shit you've done."

"How about you buy me dinner first?" You ask, rolling over onto your back, now looking at him upside down, and he's unsure if you're aware of your cleavage ready to spill out of your dress, or if you're trying to put him under your spell.

With eyes as enchanting like yours, he could see it work if the setting was different. Wait- what the hell was he thinking?

"Are you serious?" He growls. "You're not in any place to make demands." He argues, and you shrug at that, before getting up to leave, moving out of sight. "Hey-!" He calls out, walking around the small shed you've climbed up on, unable to spot you. "I'm not getting paid enough for this shit.." He mumbles as he moves a trashcan closer to the side of the building, slowly climbing up onto the roof- to find nothing.

"I'll give it an eight out of ten, but only cause you've got a nice ass, Mister Detective-" You giggle behind him down on the floor, before you laugh. "See you later, Imposter!" You laugh as you run off-

leaving him sighing on the rooftop, questioning his life choices.

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Every day you're out there on your own, is a day where you run the chance of getting yourself killed. And while he's got no emotional connection to you at all, you're still an important witness to his case- so he's got to make sure he can avoid you biting the dust anytime soon.

He spots you near an old fountain that's now worked for years, but still holds water, back turned towards him. From the movement of your ears and the way your tail snaps upwards once, you've clearly notice him already though. "Don't worry-" You chuckle, moving around as he walks closer. "-Won't run off this time." You say, as he's finally close enough to see what you're doing.

The side of one of your legs is severely scratched up, from your ankle straight up to almost your thigh. You're using the water to wash off any dirt, shoes and socks neatly placed next to you. "What happened?" He asks, and you shrug, calmly cleaning yourself as he sits down next to you with a respectful distance.

"Tripped. Fell." You shrug, and it's clear to him that you're not telling him the whole story. Even so, he doesn't need to know it- the only thing he needs to know, is what you've seen the night of the murder.

"We'll get that looked at at the police station." He offers, standing up, and you grin impishly, leaning your head back to look at him above you. "What?"

"You gonna carry me, Mister Detective?" You ask, tail swishing from left to right in your amusement.

"First of all, stop calling me that, second of all, why would I do that?" He asks, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I'm hurt!" You whine, turning around with your now wet legs, holding the scratched up one out towards him. "I can't walk." You say with big sparkling eyes, and he squints his own as an answer to them it feels like.

"It's just scratched, now dry off and put your shoes on." He demands, making you pout and cross your arms.

"No." You answer, and he has to take a deep breath to contain himself.

He's however, internally, a little confused at himself. Why does this whole thing amuse him so much? He's not so much angry or frustrated, but there's something entirely different brewing inside him. "Hm, that angry look doesn't work quite right with human eyes like that." You say, catching him off guard. "You'd have a way better chance without those fake lenses." You offer, and he doesn't react to it at all.

"Get up." He simply says, and you do so, limping on one foot. "Come on, drop the act now. I don't have all day for your games."

"We could already be on our way if you decided to be a gentleman, Mister Detective." You snap back, picking up your shoes and socks.

"I told you to stop calling me that." He bites at you, and you have the audacity to laugh.

"And I told you to carry me, but I guess we both won't get what we want today." You joke, before you're suddenly lifted up over his shoulder, one arm over the back of your knees to simultaneously keep your dress from lifting up by accident. "What are you doing!?" You stammer out now, and he can't help the smirk growing on his lips as he walks towards the police station.

"Being a gentleman, just like you wanted."

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"She definitely needs some sort of protection until we've found and arrested everyone involved." Another officer named Namjoon says. "She's already been targeted judging from her injuries. She's been lucky until now, but luck is a gamble. Until they've been prosecuted, we'll have to keep her under protective surveillance." Namjoon orders, before he looks at Yoongi.

"Absolutely fucking not." He immediately says, but it stays quiet.

There's no arguing with orders given, so he does ends up walking into the interrogation room, where he unlocks your handcuffs. "Oh, Mister Detective!" You perk up as you catch his scent, tail swatting into his face almost as he leans away from it. "Finally! I'm so hungry, I swear.." You whine, eagerly freeing your hands out of the cuffs before you get up, jumping on one leg as the other ankle had been put inside a brace since you've sprained it. "Can you carry me back to the restaurant downtown?" You wonder hopeful.

"You're not gonna go anywhere for a while." He tells you, moving your hair away from your neck. It's weird that the way his hands touch you makes you shiver a little- nervousness bubbling up inside you as he places the leather collar around your neck, something clicking in place in the back. "I'm legally required to inform you that you've been electronically tagged until you're no longer required to be. You'll be staying under both GPS surveillance and house arrest until the case has been officially closed or dropped, and the tag can be used at any given time to locate you or send out police enforcement to retrieve you in case it's deemed necessary. Did you understand everything I just said?" He asks, and you sigh, kicking out your feet stubbornly.

"…yeah.." You mumble with an attitude, pulling on the collar. "Can you loosen it a bit though? You're kind of choking me and I'm not really into that." You say, and he clicks his tongue.

"That's as much as I can do." He tells you after loosening it a little. "You'll get used to it."

"I guess." You snap with your eyes rolling, standing up. "So.. I'm gonna be locked up?" You ask, looking at him.

"You're just under house arrest, like I said." He shrugs. "Close monitoring is what they call it. I'll basically be forced to be your babysitter until the case is finished, but they'll let you stay at your own home unless decided otherwise." He explains, and you suddenly seem a lot more relieved about that.

"Alright I guess." You say, getting up to grab your shoes, still barefoot., before you lift up your arms towards him.

"What now." He asks with an emotionless face, hands in his pockets.

"I still can't walk." You say.

"You can hop around on that thing." He answers, turning around, before he opens the door- though you've sat back down on your chair, arms crossed.

"I don't wanna hop around." You simply say, looking at him challengingly. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek- and you just know, if he did have cat ears, they'd be full force airplane-mode right now to visualize his growing frustration with you.

And you love it- because he's so stuck up in being professional that there's no way he'd ever act on whatever the hell he's thinking inside his head. He's probably used to getting his way, a macho and alpha-male who's deep down so insecure about being seen as a proper male that he-

Suddenly your world is upside-down again as he carries you over his shoulder yet again, and you kick your legs out in denial. "Hey no, that's not fair-!" You whine, tail swatting into his face before he grabs a hold of it in the palm of the hand belonging to the arm holding your legs. "-Let me down you suit-wearing di-"

"Better watch your mouth, sugar, or I'll have to charge you with disorderly conduct." He tells you, and you huff in frustration to yourself as you shut up at that, hanging limply off his shoulder as he walks out of the police station with you like this.

"You think Detective Min is going to be able to handle this on his own?" A young police officer wonders to the leading detective Kim, who just chuckles in his office as he watches the scene unfold.

"Oh, I'm not worried about him whatsoever." He simply says, grinning amused.

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It's in the middle of the night, when the small monitor on his wrist begins to buzz, waking him him from his sleep. He's squinting his eyes painfully against the bright light of the small screen, before he realizes what he's reading.

[TAG ALERT: SUSPICIOUS MOVEMENT DETECTED]

He's instantly on his feet, rushing to put on clothes and shoes before he rushes out his door and onto the streets, where he checks the monitor to know where he needs to go. The tag alert itself isn't something he's surprised about- he's expected you to start wandering around even with your little issue- but you're moving way faster than you should be capable of, indicating that there might be something terribly wrong.

In front of the restaurant you've been living at, the mother with her twin children is already standing outside, pointing down the street with one of her toddlers in her arms, making Yoongi immediately run to where she'd directed him to. There's drag marks on the ground, alarming him further as he starts to smell your fear and panic- fueling his instincts to get to you before anything could happen.

"Let go you crack-smoking rodent-!" He can hear you yell, loud commotion coming from down the street behind a closed grocery store- and it's at least a sign to him that you're still very much alive and kicking.

"Fucking bitch just bit me-!" Someone yells out, as Yoongi rounds the corner, gun drawn.

"D-Town police, hands up where I can fucking see them!" He yells, causing everyone to move and dash off, no shot of his landing to keep them there.

"Nice aim there, Mister Detective." You huff on the ground, rubbing the back of your head. "Thought you guys are trained with those things.." You mumble to yourself, as he walks closer to inspect any damage done to you.

"I'll ignore that comment for now." He says as he checks up on you. "What happened?"

"Broke in, took me from my nest, dragged me here like a bag of rice." You explain, as he lifts your head by your chin, thumb wiping your bottom lip where some blood can be seen. You know he's only trying to figure out if you're hurt or if it's not your blood, but it still affects you considering you're not used to be touched like that.

But another thing you notice, is his eyes- his entire appearance, in fact, as you reach out to move your hand through his hair.

"Hey, stop that.!" He barks out, but you've already done what you wanted to do.

"Huh." You simply hum. "Been wondering if you had anything hidden on your head."

"There's nothing to hide there." He growls almost, standing up instantly before he lifts you up by the back of your shirt. "Now come on. We'll get some of your shit from your place, and then you'll stay with me. I'm not taking anymore chances with you." He orders, and surprisingly, you don't question it, and don't even ask to be carried around, simply hopping alongside him for a while as you make your way down the street.

It's quiet, most people asleep at this point in this part of town, when he sighs, turning towards you to pick you up.

"Come here." He mumbles quietly, tapping his shoulders as he turns around and leans down for you to get onto his back. You silently accept the offer, letting him piggyback you to your home where you stay, and pack a small bag of things you deem necessary for your stay with the detective. He watches quietly from the sidelines as you say goodbye to the young cat hybrids, when he's spoken to from the sides.

"She's a good girl." The husband of the mother tells him. "Just shaped by the circumstances, you know? You bite others or get bitten, as simple as that." He explains.

"I'm not arresting her." Yoongi explains, and the man shakes his head.

"No, no, I know you don't." He exclaims. "But I know you guys always think of us as some sort of criminal bunch that don't follow the rules just to spite you, and we're not." He simply explains. "Just- ah, what does it matter to you I guess.." The man shakes his head, before he walks inside, leading his wife and kids into the safety of the restaurant-

while you walk out of it, ready to be carried away.

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Back at his place, you still haven't really said anything- making him suspicious, as he sits on the edge of his bed, having put up a mattress for you to sleep on close to him in case anything happened at night. "Who were those guys?" He asks, and you shrug, pulling out a rather worn down blanket from your plastic bag.

"Don't know." You answer. "Probably with Takehiko, if I had to make a guess." You shrug, before you pull out one small flower shaped pillow to sleep on- the man mentioned, Takehiko, being the prime suspect of the double homicide. He's well known for selling tampered drugs on the streets of D-Town, as well as blackmailing hybrids by threatening to report them to authorities to be taken into shelters.

Yoongi wants to question if you're alright- if everything's okay with you, but he doesn't. It doesn't concern him, it's none of his business, and the less he gets himself involved with you-

the better it will be for the both of you in the end.

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"Mister Detective!" You call out, and he turns around from his desk to find you rolling around on his carpet on the floor. "I'm bored." You whine, and he sighs, turning back around. "Mister De-"

"I swear to god if you call me that one more time, I'm gonna fucking gag you.!" He growls, turning back around again.

"Kinky." You wiggle your ears, and he takes a deep breath before he crosses his arms. "I'm still bored though."

"Go read something then, I'm here to protect you, not entertain you." He mumbles, before it grows quiet. It makes him turn around to notice you staring into nothingness, before you move to curl up on your mattress instead. It makes him wonder if you're always this stubborn if you don't get your way- or if there's something else going on you're just not telling him.

Either way, he doesn't care, and shouldn't, so he continues working on things he usually doesn't have time for during his workdays, while he assumes you sleep.

"Do you have a tail?" You ask out of a sudden, making him choke on his sip of water as he almost spits it out, cough interrupting him for a good moment.

"What the fuck!" He snarls out, setting down his glass as he wipes his mouth.

"So is that a no?" You wonder, and he shakes his head.

"No!" He says, grabbing tissues to wipe his desk down.

"No- no tail or no- yes tail-" You continue, but he cuts you off.

"No as in, none of your fucking business.!" He growls, clearly agitated at that question. "If your plan is to annoy the fuck out of me so someone else will supervise you, guess what, it's working great."

"Wasn't my intention, actually." You shrug, sitting up now. "Was just curious. You know- since you're clearly a cat too, but also not really. Confused me, that's all." You explain.

"Yeah well, you're not the first." He mumbles to himself, sitting back down at his desk.

"Does it confuse you too?" You ask, and he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, what the fuck does it take for you to shut up?" He asks, looking at you, and you just smile.

"An answer would be cool." You simply say. "Look, I knew a cat hybrid a few years back and he had a super short tail, but he was a really nice guy! Smoked a lot of weed, but still." You explain, and he leans back in his seat, arms crossed defensively. "So?" You ask.

"I don't have one." He tells you.

"Liar." You squint your eyes, ears tilted towards him. "It's short, isn't it?" You ask almost teasingly, and he looks away at that, giving you the answer needed. "Hey, that's totally alright though, no shame in it! Or.." You tilt your head. "Is that why you hate hybrids so much?"

"I don't hate hybrids." He scoffs, shaking his head at you.

"Yeah right, as if it's pure chance that you're known for putting hybrids into shelters left and right." You huff, crossing your arms as well now.

"It's because you belong there if you do not have a legal guardian or permit for independent living." He argues. "I'm only trying to help you out. A shelter provides you food, a place to sleep, education-" He tries to explain, but you're visibly becoming defensive now.

"Oh yeah and don't forget how they hit you with whatever they've got on hand just because you knock over a glass full of juice at the dinner table!" You hiss, annoyed that he's talking about shelters like they're as holy as a church. "Or how they lock you in the shower with ice cold water after you've pissed yourself out of fear as a kitten because everyone just keeps shouting at you-!" You angrily say, and his features remain without any emotion as he realizes you're not just making up examples you might've heard.

Considering the details and the way you tremble saying those things, it's clear to him that you're talking about your experience in a shelter.

"But what is it to you." You suddenly shrug. "You go continue cosplaying as a human I guess." You mumble, turning around to hide under your blanket again, silence engulfing the room for a moment or two, before he gets up and moves around. You don't know what he's doing, and you honestly don't want to know. You also don't know what you thought blurting your childhood trauma out like that would bring you as a result- but that's how you are, and have always been. Impulsive, wild, a little hyperactive and too honest most of the time.

Suddenly, he's close to you, and you hiss in pure pettiness at him, before you stop in your tracks, watching him.

His face is as stoic as ever, sleeves of his shirt rolled up as he wraps a blanket around you, tucking another one into places, and you're confused. "I- what're you doing?" You ask, and he scoffs to himself.

"You're the hybrid, I honestly got no clue how to do this shit." He mumbles, sighing in defeat as he sits back with crossed legs, letting his hands fall into his lap in defeat.

"But you're a hybrid too." You ask confused, though he shakes his head.

"I'm a freak, there's no need to try and sugarcoat it." He shrugs. "Neither here nor there. I don't know what it's like to be put through the shit you might've been, since I never lived life from your perspective-" He explains, "-and I don't know what it's like to be a human either, since you can only hide so much." The detective explains, watching how you correct his admittedly poor attempt at nesting for you.

It's clear to you that he's trying to apologize for his assumptions without actually having to apologize- the detective is a lot easier to read than he might think he is.

"Yeah, I mean you kind of suck at being both, I won't lie." You say, making him look at you with harmless offense. "What? Your nesting sucks ass, and those contact lenses you constantly wear creep me out." You jab at him. "But!" You bark out, leaning closer to him, catching him off guard a little. "Seeing as we're kind of stuck together, I can give you a rundown on being a hybrid!"

"And why exactly would I want that?" He asks you monotonously, and you roll your eyes.

"Because you clearly got some major identity-issues going on?" You tell him as if it's obvious. "And I also clearly can't magically turn you 100% human out of nowhere."

"I don't have Identity-issues-" He argues, while you look at him with an unconvinced gaze, arms crossed.

"Mid-life-crisis then?" You ask, "You do look pretty old.." You mumble at him.

"I'm not old!" He hisses, and you grin suddenly, ears in airplane-mode while your tail swishes from side to side in happiness. "What?" He asks annoyed again.

"Your teeth." You notice, and he instantly closes his mouth, lips pressed firmly together at having them called out like that. "And you're also not wearing those creepy lenses." You continue to point out, tilting your head to the side. "Handsome, I like it." You comment, and for some reason, that's what forces him to stand up and move away from you, all while you fall onto your back, laughing loudly.

"Shut the fuck up and tell me what you want to eat for dinner instead."

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #hybrid imagine #yoongi imagine #min yoongi imagines #yoongi imagines

541 notes · View notes

izvmimi · 6 months

Text

cw: fem!reader. halloween theme! reader doesn’t like a gold rush.

Recoiling from Satoru’s touch is not the best move if you mean to wean off your attachment to him, and does the opposite of what is intended. This, however, you don't realize immediately. You're too busy lost in your own thoughts, as though suddenly alone in the dark, mist-filled nightclub scene, and somehow you've convinced yourself that you can just as easily slip away in a moment's notice.

Satoru looks preoccupied from your vantage point. The event is a private affair and thus intimate despite the loud music and hordes of people, and Satoru works the room effortlessly anyway, all smiles and charm despite his shrouded light blue eyes. Your costumes match - you, Catwoman, in a sleek dark suit that shows off your best assets, and him, Batman, cliched yet somehow working for him - and still somehow you feel disjointed. Like a creaky hinge, there's a loud friction that sex and sweet affection has not been able to grease quiet as well recently, and you're not sure why. Perhaps it's the natural ebb and flow in the nature of your relationship, genuine moodiness, or perhaps it's the fact that he's too adept at garnering the looks of men and women in scary, sexy and/or stupid costumes, a glow around him like the miracle he's always been.

The words to describe Gojo Satoru are not few and are often positive - handsome, powerful, independent, strong-willed... handsome. All the qualities of a prince, enough so that it is easy to forget that you're a princess in your own right when you spend so much time looking at him from the same vantage point as charmed onlookers.

But you are not at that same vantage point.

Gojo does not turn to look at you immediately, letting your fingers slip through his, his better judgement outweighing his immediate wishes to pull you closer. You erroneously take this as him being too busy for you, and let yourself back away to numb your insecurities with another drink. There are too many eyes watching him, watching you always. Your friends quickly flank you, one of them scrunching her nose.

"Do you mean to let people swarm him like that? He looks like he's dripped in honey and the ants have taken note."

Your other friend stifles a laugh but you sigh.

"He'll probably find his wife in the crowd," you joke. Your friend on the right bumps you in the hip and you whisper a dramatic 'Ow'.

"His wife is standing here moping and hurting them both."

You roll your eyes and turn to lean on the bar table, but they turn to, leaning into you.

"Maybe it's foreplay," one whispers to the other, across from you, pretending that they aren't discussing you in front of you.

"Do you think he goes more rounds the madder she gets?"

"Enough," you hiss.

"Is that what you tell him after your third nut or are you able to talk by then?"

You pretend that your cheeks aren't warming, that your latex-covered thighs don't press together slightly as you tell them to stop being disgusting. One of your friend grins as she looks behind you, then says, "Sure."

"Hi, Satoru!" they both wave in unison.

Satoru is behind you now, stalking like the ghost he is, wisps of white poking outside of his mask. He grins.

"Can I take my favorite girl from you for a moment?"

"What if we say no?" one jokes. Satoru chuckles.

"I only asked to be polite."

She raises her eyebrows in feigned offense but Satoru has already swept you up in his arms, letting his forehead press against yours.

"Spiderman needs his Mary Jane," he whispers and it catches you so off guard that you find yourself giggling.

"Wrong superhero."

Satoru kisses your lips, then shrugs, a movement that shifts you slightly. "I know, but Batman and Catwoman don't have the same kind of canonical gravitas, you know?"

He has a point.

He turns with you in his arms, and you can see the eyes of the people that would rather be in your place look then look away, knowing that the few you call friends but have reservations in their hearts already have this image burned in their minds. You're chosen when it should be them. Your heart pounds.

"Satoru, put me down."

"And let you walk away from me again? Fat chance," he whispers.

He returns to the center of the room and while the girls swarm him less, there's just as much conversation to be had with your friends. Nanami has learned to not even notice Gojo's PDA at this point, talking to you as though you were standing on your own feet despite your bashfulness. You catch an eyeroll or two from a few guests, but your friends grin widely and cheer you on.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders.

This isn't exactly the worst place to be, is it?

He can sense you relax and kisses you again. The raving music and lights, and the warmth of his body against yours soon overpowers racing thoughts.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #daydreams: jjk #mimi’s notes

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oldshrewsburyian · 10 months

Note

I love this ask! A Persuasion Campus novel please. (Must go lie down at the thought of Ciarán Hinds as a college professor.)

So, to address your parenthetical first: you've seen Circle of Friends, right? I didn't love it, and his role, iirc, is not sympathetic; however:

The academic gown over the three-piece suit is just gratuitous. AHEM. A Jane Austen campus novel AU is tricky, I think, because I have to undo most if not all of the family relationships in favor of other connective nexuses (nexes? nexii? help). Here goes. I might have spent too much time thinking about this over my morning tea.

Sir Walter Elliott is, inevitably, the college president. He's photogenic. He loves uttering empty and incorrect platitudes about his own achievements. He loves schmoozing with important people. Unfortunately, he's perfect for the job.

The Admiral and Sophy have been at the university for ages, and the Admiral loves to tell the story about how he was her spousal hire in 1987, not the other way around.

Elizabeth is using family money to take a never-ending PhD in fashion history. She's always weirdly vague about her project, and finds a way not to participate in chapter exchanges. Rumor says that it's Sir Walter's influence keeping her from being kicked out.

Mary took an M.A., married money, and has been (dis)contentedly living on the UWS ever since. It's not quite true to say that she's never looked back. She visits colloquia and other open department functions with a depressing persistency, and appears not to notice that this is sometimes awkward for people who are united by their passion for a subject in which she never excelled.

Louisa and Henrietta are grad students, and remarkably carefree with it. Somehow their work does, in fact, get done.

Harville is, I think, Wentworth's sailing club buddy.

Mr. Elliott will be a smarmy visiting academic at another area institution. Unfortunately, I know his type. Eventually it will come out that he's eternally "visiting" because of a plagiarism scandal in his past.

Lady Russell is, of course, Anne's PhD supervisor. Who else would be in loco parentis and giving prudent and unwelcome advice?

Anne administers the interdisciplinary center in eighteenth-century studies. While she is several decades younger than those who usually take on such jobs, this works out well for several reasons. She has a head for detail, and is conscientious to a fault. Also, the faculty are (almost) all extremely fond of her, and the importance of this in getting academics to comply with bureaucratic necessities cannot be overstated. She's an alum of the program, and did finish her PhD. Lady Russell still sometimes sighs, a little too audibly, when she sees her erstwhile star student being competent in the front office. But care-taking duties during her mother's long illness meant that Anne's progress through the degree was slow, and international conference travel to boost her reputation didn't happen. The job market, with its precarity and long-distance upheavals, didn't either. So here is Anne, still in the department. Anne herself may not have the career or the life she dreamed of, but she has employment and health insurance, which is more than many recent PhDs can say. She sings in a choir. She tells herself that she has a good life.

Frederick Wentworth was Sophy's student. (I will miss her big sister energy, but a PhD supervisor also has the lifelong privilege of dragging you and telling you to get your life together, so here we are.) Lady Russell thought he was always going to burn out. Sure, he looked good on paper: a bright scholarship student from a state school in the fields of nowhere. But his project, studying contested empire and constructions of masculinity in the Atlantic world using network analysis, was always too ambitious. Until it wasn't.

With several fellowships, a postdoc, and a visiting position at a SLAC behind him -- the OUP monograph is in press -- Frederick Wentworth is back. Lady Russell wasn't on the search committee. But not only is Frederick Wentworth competent to teach the gender studies courses the department wants and the survey courses the university wants, he is also willing to take on the military history courses that the jocks want. "Thank God," says Sophy bluntly, once he's accepted the offer, "I won't have to read their opinions of my haircut in the student evals anymore." Also, there's that OUP monograph. No one quite says out loud that they have in their midst that rarest of creatures, the photogenic male historian who actually is a historian. But the consciousness runs through the halls like a current. This, for the department, could be a beginning.

For Anne, it is something else. It's not that they dated, exactly. It was never that formal, or that limited. Only in retrospect, really, did she realize that it was odd to spend an entire day walking around looking at architecture, or to end up with intertwined ankles on a museum bench, or to cook freely in each other's kitchens, before having an understanding. The understanding came. It was a November night, and they were sitting on a bench in Riverside Park, and she didn't feel the cold. They had agreed that they'd go on the job market together. They would read each other's applications the way they read each other's dissertation chapters. And they'd move to wherever one of them got a tenure-track job first. And then everything fell apart. Anne still thinks that Dr. Russell was right, that it wouldn't have been fair to hold him. More, she thinks that she herself could not have borne to lose what they had in a slow death of long-distance phone calls, too-brief visits, awkward negotiations of what they could and could not expect. Better to be sensible. Better to make a clean break while they were still young, still resilient. But she has never felt resilient. And now Frederick Wentworth is back.

#persuasion #campus novel au #will i actually end up writing this?

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lizard-queen-izzy · 2 months

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I'm actually not done thinking about it so here you guys get more thoughts.

Tma season 2 finale spoilers ahead.

Tim knew something was wrong when Jon apologized for everything. He knew Jon was going to do something stupid. He knew because he knew Jon meant that apology. And that meant he didn't think he was surviving whatever he was about to do. Because as desperately as Tim wanted and apology from him, he didn't want it to be the last words he heard from Jon.

He was willing to march back in to the Institute, with or without Martin to find out what Jon was going to do. He had no way of knowing what would happen when he did, and he still did it. And he brought a fucking the recorder to get it on tape. To make sure there was a record.

I've said it before, the beginning of season 2 from Tim's perspective is devastating, but having finished it now? It really only does get worse. Because Jon doesn't get better, but neither does Tim.

Their fight at the end of MAG 65 is such a parallel to their first conversation in the beginning of MAG 33! They're talking over eachother, they're muttering, they're cutting eachother off, they're yelling. They're yelling at eachother! Their calm back and forth is gone. Their patience with eachother is gone. It's all replaced with anger. At the situation, at the Institute, at eachother.

What starts as Tim coming in to ask Jon where he put something so quickly dissolves into bitterness. Tim being fed up with Jon's suspicious behavior, and Jon being tired of Tim's attitude. Jon tries to brush it off, tries to shove it back under the rug but Tim's exhausted. So he blows up. He's pissed, rightfully so, because Jon is still trying to find a way to blame someone in the Archives for Gertrude. To blame him.

He's grasping at straws, trying so desperately to twist the narrative to make it someone's fault. To pin the blame on someone so he can then get justice? He's rambling, he's spiraling, and Tim can't take it so he tells him to shut up. He stops him, cuts his explanation short. And tells him, point blank, to stop talking. He's sick of it, he's sick of Jon. Sick of his former friend blaming everyone around him for things they didn't do. Sick of him blaming him for it.

And Jon tries to start again, and Tim tells him to stop, to listen for once. He tells him he was happy in the Research department, and ever since Jon brought him to the Archives with him everything has been falling apart. And no one has his back.

"Elias doesn't care, Martin just wants a tea party, and Sahsa - ugh - and you! - you're treating me like I'm somehow to blame for it all, like I didn't suffer the worst right alongside you!"

Tim suffered. He suffered what Jon did, they were the most affected by the worms together. They are both irreparably damaged by the Jane Prentiss attack, mentally and physically. And Tim knows no one but Jon will get it the way he needs to be understood. He can't talk to anyone else. And Jon has made it impossible to talk to him either. Because instead of talking about it, instead of healing and working to move past it, Jon let it consume him all over. Let it swallow him whole and make him into a paranoid mess. And he's facing zero real consequences for his actions.

Jon was stalking Tim. Spying on and taking pictures of his flat. He was going through 'Sasha's desk. He was watching Martin. And all Elias did was stage one intervention style talk and then nothing. He just got to spiral even further, keep spying, keep replaying that damn CCTV video footage on a loop. Keep staring at Tim like he's the enemy.

And then they have a moment of common ground. A moment where they're both on the same page. When they realize they can't leave. And just when Tim thinks they're making progress, Jon tells him he can't trust him. Not just that, he won't trust Tim. And all they can do is, what? Keep working? In a building that won't let them go? Where everyday there's another disaster lurking around the corner? Where any of them could all be next? That's the only option?

And it is. And so he leaves. He goes back to work. Because he has to do something, and this is the only option.

And that's why he goes back in after Jon. Because if he can't leave, he's going to do something. He's going to find answers, even if it goes horribly. Because everything is already horrible.

And no matter what. No matter how mad he is at Jon. No matter how betrayed he feels. He still cares so deeply for him, and he needs to know what he's doing. Because he can't lose anyone else.

#the magnus archives #tma #jon sims #jonathan sims #jonsims/timstoker #jontim #tim stoker #timothy stoker #tma season 2 #tma thoughts #theyre in my brain #theyre so so messy and SAD #if you see me plotting a fic of them #mind your business

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wangxianficfinder · 7 months

Text

Fic finder

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1. Hi! I looked everywhere for this fic so I’m afraid it’s gone. It was on ao3. Omega Wei Wuxian is captured by Wen Chao during a battle where he sets fire to a stronghold and meets Alpha Lan Zhan while they are both prisoners. The fic is mostly Wei Ying’s war efforts using his extremely violent heats to his advantage. Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen feature prominently as do the Wen siblings. It was a long-ish multi-chapter completed work. Thank you! @sicklyscribe

FOUND! I Will Not Go Gentle into the Quiet Night by TriviasFolly (M, 89k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, no cultivation au, Vaugely Historical AU?, royal au, War AU, Slow Burn, Attempted Rape, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Murder)

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2. Hey, I'm looking for a fic where lwj summons an incubus or succubus wei wuxian. It is a bottomji fic. @imstillthinkingaboutithmm

FOUND! Lan Wangji's Fullproof Guide on How (NOT) to Summon a Demon by Howtosolveit (E, 3k, WangXian, Porn With Plot, but not a lot of plot, Incubus WWX, Demons, wwx has a tail, Wings, Interspecies Sex, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Anal Sex, Crack, Filthy, size queen lwj, Canon Divergence)

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3. hi! im looking for a fic where lan wangji and wei wuxian date as teenagers before lqr finds out and sends lwj to london with lxc

FOUND? Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing)

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4. Hello mods! Thank you so much for all of your hard work. I'm looking for a wangxian fic that is set in the modern Omegaverse where WY is an omega and LZ is an alpha, and they're already an established couple at the beginning of the fic. The fic starts when both of them wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of chaos, as an omega uprising against the alphas has started, and their is a coup going on against the government and they're assasinating alphas. Then Wangxian meet up with Sangcheng and XuanLi to a safe house where they plan to move to another country for safety. I remember a WY thinking or saying something along the lines of, "It's my turn to protect you" to LZ.

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5. hi, need help finding a fic title. it should be quite popular. modern setting, wwx has powers to open and close... rifts? he and lwj go through one and get stranded in canon setting during postcanon. thanks for the help

FOUND! a tide in two seas by occultings (microcomets) (E, 81k, wangxian, modern w/ magic, parallel universes, post-canon, getting together, pining, case fic)

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6. good day! for the fic finder, can u guys help me find this fics: A) idk if its a jiang bashing but during the competition, wwx broke jwy's sword then he asked his father to have another one but his father didnt gave him any. then i think there's also a scene where jyl is also included in the competition that somehow she managed to form a core to fight but its not that strong.

B) i cant remember this one clearly but wwx stays with the lans at some point and he doesnt give a fvck with jyl. jyl wants wwx to come back to them (jiangs) but wwx knows his worth this time.

6A)

FOUND! Hua Xianle by Tiffany_Guinne (Not rated, 170k, hualian, wangxian, TGCF, canon divergence, not Jiang friendly, madam lan lives, WWX adopted by hualian, WWX with different name, overprotective hualian, hurt WWX, WIP)

6B)

FOUND! Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WQ & WWX & WN, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, AngstGolden Core Transfer Fix-It, I love Wen Qing and Wei Ying working together, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Canon JC traits, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn't have a happy ending)

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7. Hi mods!! Love this blog and thank you for all that you do! ❤️ I read a fic a long time ago where at the climax Wei Wuxian formed a core from purified resentful energy. Can't find it again to save my sanity, would you be able to help?

FOUND? Sunder by naqaashi (E, 32k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Golden Core Reveal, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Heavy Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Denial of Feelings, Mutual Pining, Emotional Sex, Porn with Feelings, PWP, Light BDSM, Fix-It, POV LWJ, YLLZ WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Light Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, Suicidal Thoughts) the last chapter has a scene similar to the description

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8. hii!!! i’m in the need for a ficfinder!! the fic was basically wwx tries to call lwj because he thinks he got drugged at a party, but he doesn’t answer since lwj is having dinner with his brother and uncle and they aren’t allowed to have their phones, so he calls lxc instead and he answers.

lwj and lxc go into the bathroom where wwx is hiding and find someone trying to take advantage of him, so they beat him up. this is all i remember unfortunately!! :((

(modern setting), tsvm!! :D

FOUND! Please Let Me Take Care of You by kayceebabe (G, 9k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LXC & WWX, modern, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Sexual Assaultish, kinda assault, drugged WWX, big brother LXC, Nightmares, the horrifying ordeal of being known, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Hurt WWX, crying WWX)

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9. Hi! Hope u'all having a good day! Is anyone of u know a fic where lwj got wwx pregnant and he didnt know about it. Wwx sent letters but lwj never got it because of lxz.

FOUND! Nothing but your heart by airinshaw (E, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Implied Mpreg, First Time, Getting Together, Angst and Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anal Sex, Whump, Breeding Kink)

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10. Hi! Can you help me find these 2 fics.

A) I remember this fic is a dark lwj. The lans ask Jyl’s hand in marriage for lwj however, since the jiang family know lwj as a bloodwar, they instead sent Wwx (disguised as female) instead of jyl. I remember when it was on their wedding night, lwj saw wwx’s robe covered in blood and discover wwx got a lot scars/wound on his back and learned that wwx is a boy.

B) Xicheng where Lxc and jwy are lovers but they got into fight to the point jwy thought it was better he was gone. Then, i remember jwy doing sacrifice soul summoning (like how MXY summons Wwx) to summon MY/JGY. It was successful.

10A)

FOUND? The Bloodthirsty Prince and his Bride by moss_enthusiast (M, 27k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending Violence, Anxiety, Royalty, Strangers to Lovers, Arranged Marriage, Self-Worth Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Whipping, Blood and Gore, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Past Abuse, Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Blood and Violence, Dark LWJ, Fluff, Angst and Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Shock, Anxiety Attacks)

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11. hello! I'm looking for a wangxian fic where wei ying dies at qiongqi path and lan zhan hears about it went to burial mounds but he was too late. after that, song lan appeared at jin lintai with wen yuan and a-yuan went to lan zhan shouting rich gege. when a-yuan learns that wei ying is dead he keeps telling that his xian-gege is now asleep like his parents and sister. and then when a-yuan saw the golden robes of madam jin, jin guangshan he screamed and kept saying bad men. @zeanclr

FOUND? @lovelyiknow said: #11 from the most recent fic finder is When I’m Gone by qiankun_pouch, it’s mostly finished but was deleted at 29/30? 31? smth like that. I have the pdf if anon wants it!

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12. looking for a fic where lwj gets tortured, and is rescued. one thing I remember is that it was second person pov, and it was relatively short. also, lwj kinda had amnesia- as in the torture made him forget or something. thanks!

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13. hello ! i hope y’all are doing well. i wanted to see if anyone could find this one fic that i read ages ago, but i can’t remember the title. but basically, i think it’s where wwx gets his old body back after being cursed by a fox(?) spirit - like he transforms back. and i think somewhere in the story, the juniors are there and they ask sizhui what wwx originally looked like and when he draws them a picture, they think he’s lying bc wwx looks too good in the drawing !! it’s been sitting at the back of my brain, so any help would be much appreciated:)) thank youuu <;3 @slytherin-trash

FOUND? Transcend by covalentbonds (Not Rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut)

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14. hi!! I’m not sure if this is the right way to ask, if it isn’t, please correct me! Im pretty sure I had seen a fic on here where the description said that lwj just kind of showed up at wwx and a’yuans door and they were just kind of like ok sure why not. I’m sorry I don’t have more details my app crashed just after I saw it😭😭would you happen to have an idea of what it was?? Thank you so much😭

FOUND! Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern AU, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx's biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending)

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15. I’m sorry to ask this but I can’t find this fic and I searched it all day 🐇🐇🐇

A) I think, lwj and wwx are able to achieve immortality or are trying to achieve it and idk nor remember if it’s a omega verse or just magic bs but at some point in the story wwx asks how many children lwj would like to have and he answers 10 to which wwx thinks is joking but lwj is all serious about it XD

B) And also a fic where ylz ends up as a Jin and he’s usually in a garden surrounded by guards

Jiang Yanli is still alive and I think Jin zixuan too, but when wwx talks to JY he’s always formal and she can tell something is going on, there’s also wangxian and I think JGY is the one behind everything under his father’s commands

Thank you 🙇‍♀️

15A)

FOUND? Besieged by Ariaste (M, 11k, WangXian, WWX POV, wwx's avuncular powers, Teenage Drama, Humor, Feelings, Fluff) the second work of "A Civil Combpaign", the talk about lwj wanting more children surprised wwx, who had kinda jokingly suggested.

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16. Hi there, looking for a fic that had a 4/5 times wwx something 1 time lwj something format. Maybe based on jealousy or people hitting on them? One of the times was the head disciple of yunmeng jiang drugging and almost assaulting wwx but jiang cheng saves him. Please help, thank you!

FOUND! Cotton Wool by incendir (M, 34k, wangxian, LJY/OMC, JL/LSZ, JC & WWX)

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17. Hi! I’m looking for a fic when lwj is intersex and a river nymph I believe! wwx drinks water from lwj’s home and now he has to grant a wish. wwx at first thought that the price would be sxx but lwj actually asks him to build a rabbit hutch, a fence, and a house throughout the fic. This fic takes place over a course of a year or so and by the end they are married to live together! I remember this fic so clearly I just can’t seem to find it again. Thank you!

FOUND! Water Sweeter by deliciousblizzardshark (E, 8k, WangXian, Historical, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Some kind of fairy or spirit or something LWJ, Intersex LWJ, Intersex Character, Fluff and Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Thirst Trap WWX, Topping from the Bottom, WWX's Canonical Cottage-core Fantasy, First Time, Domestic Fluff, Vaginal Sex)

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18. hi so I am looking for this one fic and all I remember is that some of the wen remnants were bloodline jiangs

Thank you @princess-nettle

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19. Hi! 🤗 For the next Fic Finder, I wanted to ask about a fic I read some time ago, and now I can't find it. It's a fic where LWJ and WWX have sex in Xuanwu cave and WWX gets pregnant. After that they separated and WWX thinks he have lost the baby, but he didn't lost the baby and WWX goes into labor in a fight with the bad Wens.

I hope you can help me find it! Thank you! 😊💜 @wangxiansgirl

FOUND! Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal)

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20. I'm looking for a short fic, modern AU, mpreg, where Wei Ying doesn't know he's pregnant and gives birth on the bedroom floor. I only remember that and that he decided to walk home from work when he was feeling ill (still not realizing he was pregnant and in labor). Thanks, you are ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ @ilolatthis

FOUND! Surprise Baby! by trulywicked (M, 10k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, Mpreg, Unplanned Pregnancy, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Didn't know he was pregnant, birthing scene, Little bit of blood, A/B/O Dynamics, Inspired by Twitter, Established Relationship, Fluff)

NOT FOUND! Blood, Google, and Love by Prairie_Grass (E, 4k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, they were roommates, A/B/O Dynamics, Getting Together, Mpreg, semi graphic giving birth, Alpha LWJ, Omega wwx, Intersex Omegas, (or you could head-canon WWX as trans if you wanted), Fluff and Angst, the run-on sentences are on-purpose because WWX and LWJ are both:, neurodiverse characters, slightly traumatic birth)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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cowgurrrl · 5 months

Note

Some way some how Joel and reader in lftl are able to take each other back to their homes from before. For closure and memories. They both are just two people who miss their babies. And now they get pictures and cards from their homes. Another little piece of Sarah and Jane to go back to jackson.

Hello do you have access to my wips I was literally working on this!! I wrote this more about reader going back to their last apartment because @hier--soir has an amazing fic about Joel going back to Texas and it's absolutely gorgeous <3 anyways, I hope you enjoy!! this made me CRYYYY

Never Grew Up With You

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Jesus Christ I haven't cried at a fic like this in a LONG time I'm genuinely exhausted

Summary: "To never see her face again is what grief is." — Euripides, translated by Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four Plays by Euripides aka this ask [1.5k]

Warnings: talks of Jane, memories, oh it's so sad

It's eerie being back in that town. It's empty, but the remnants of Outbreak Day linger in the streets— decomposed bodies, crashed cars, craters where the bombs hit. You recognize bits and pieces. The downtown area which used light up with Christmas lights and smell like funnel cake during the winter months. The church where you lied on the application form so Jane could get into daycare. Your apartment building. You stop in front of it, Joel at your side, and look up at it.

It looks smaller than you remember it like maybe you romanticized the shithole after so many years of living in a worse shithole. Only a few windows still have glass, and you catch faded curtains flapping in the abandoned apartments. "Mommy, look!" Jane had yelled that day so you could catch the jets flying over the building. You were standing in the same area you are now. Your heart clenches, and Joel seems to feel it at the same time.

"Are you sure bout this?" He asks, and you nod. "I'll be right here with you the whole time. We can leave whenever you want." You don't answer him. You just take a deep breath and start walking toward the stairs—bullet holes and rusty, dried blood line the path up to your third-floor apartment, but other than that everything is the same. There's even still a flyer on the bulletin board advertising an apartment-wide potluck set the week after Outbreak Day. Jane wanted to go. She said her friends were going and she wanted you to meet them. You said you'd think about it.

When you reach the top of the stairs, you find your apartment door still open and immediately regret not closing it. What if there's nothing left? What if it's been raided? What if it's all destroyed? You push yourself forward until you're over the threshold and back into the life you left behind. The body of the runner who burst into your apartment that night is still there, grey and all but dust at this point. Dirty plates sit in the sink. Jane's kindergarten homework has slid off the table and onto the floor, her scribbly handwriting boring holes into you. You pick it up despite it having boot marks and ripped edges and stare down at how she wrote her name. Joel doesn't say anything, but he squeezes your shoulder and lets you know he's there.

Together, you silently move through the rooms and salvage whatever you find. In your room, you find ratty old clothes from 2003, medical textbooks, and a file full of important documents shoved under your bed. Among the papers are your tax forms, a copy of your college diploma, and Jane's birth certificate— the only physical proof that she was ever here. Jane Eloise born April 7th, 1998, to you and no one else. Somehow, the glaring absence of Matt's name on her birth certificate still makes your stomach turn. You find a few more keepsakes before moving to the living room.

Whatever might've been there has been taken or destroyed by whoever's been in the building in the last twenty years. The blankets and pillows that once lived on your couch are gone. Your TV has been smashed in. The shoes Jane always left in the middle of the floor have disappeared, probably taken by some other parent who was desperate and was too scared to think of the child who left them. You're about to walk down the hallway to the bathroom and Jane's room when something crunches under your foot. You look down, and all the air gets punched out of your chest. As gently as possible, you bend down to pick up the shattered picture frame and stare at it.

It was a picture taken by a friend at the county fair. Jane is on your right with a half-eaten blue cotton candy in her hand and a water bottle tucked under her arm. Her hair is in a braid, and there's a big blue stain on her Princess Ariel shirt, but she looks happy. You're both smiling big, the reflection of the colorful carnival lights shining in your identical eyes. Everyone always said she looked like Matt, but you can clearly see your features reflected back to you in this picture. God, how could you have forgotten about the way her eyes crinkled when she was happy? Or how she leaned into you in public? Or how young you both were?

"What's that?" Joel asks as he walks over to you, and you meet him halfway to show him the picture, unwilling to hand it over just yet. It takes him a minute to realize what he's looking at, but when he does, he looks up to catch you staring at the picture. "'S that Jane?"

"Mhm,"

"She's beautiful," he says, and you smile. "Is that cotton candy?"

"Yeah, it was her favorite. Practically begged me to buy it for her. I'm pretty sure I overdrafted my bank account just to get it."

"How old are you in this photo?" He asks, and you furrow your brows as you think.

"Uh, Jane looks about three or four, so I was, at least, nineteen."

"You look happy."

"And tired," you say. Both things are true, but you can't ignore the bags under your eyes or your horribly fitting clothes. You were struggling. You were alone. You were so incredibly ill-equipped and felt the weight of the world on your shoulders. And Jane... Jane is none the wiser. She's smiling. She's fed. She's loved. She's happy. Maybe you were doing a better job than you thought you were. "You know she wanted to go on the Ferris wheel?" You ask, and Joel raises his eyebrows.

"That little?" He asks, and you laugh, nodding.

"I said the same thing, but she was so determined. So, my friend got us tickets to go on it, and we went, just the two of us. But when we started going around, she started getting really scared about the height and how fast it was going. She buried her head in my arm almost the whole time, and I was stressed that she was miserable and we had wasted my friend's money, and I was so fucking tired," you say. "But when we stopped at the top, I told her to look at the sky, and she did. I pointed at the different stars and talked to her about the moon, and she calmed down. I don't know if I distracted her or if she realized how big the sky was in comparison, but when we got down, all she could talk about was how close she got to the moon. After that, we'd go out every night and look at the stars. Even snuck out of our QZ shelter after the Outbreak."

"D'you get caught?"

"Once. I knew a FEDRA guy, and he let it go. We never got caught again." You haven't thought about Owen in years. You don't know if he's dead or alive. You don't even know if he remembers you. You're not sure if you want to know.

You grab a few more things from her room: a teddy bear, a few shirts, and a picture of you and her on the day she was born. Being in her space again makes your head swim, and you want to stay here forever and leave as soon as possible, all at the same time. Eventually, after combing through every nook and cranny you still know, you do leave. You say a proper goodbye to the first home you shared with Jane and the memories you made there. You're silently grateful to the apartment for holding so many treasures you would've otherwise never gotten back.

You don't know why, but you trace your steps back through one of your old routes. Joel is silent beside you and lets you lead, knowing you would never do anything to endanger him. You recount stories as you pass certain buildings or paths; he listens and asks questions about her and your shared life. Before you know it, you're on the same hill overlooking the QZ. The one where you hid with her when the Outbreak first happened. The one you sat down on and sobbed after Adam died because you had to pull yourself together before reentering. The one you buried her on.

The tree holding her has gotten bigger, its limbs stretching to the sky and the leaves a brilliant green. Seeing it thrive makes you smile just a little before you pivot and start walking to where you know she is. The sight of a fresh bouquet on her spot stops you in your tracks and makes your breath catch. All these years, you worried she would go unremembered under that big oak tree. You worried she was alone and scared. You worried and worried and worried because that's what any good parent does. The yellow flowers protecting her prove your worries wrong. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand before walking over to her.

"Hey bug," you start, fighting your tears, "This is Joel. He’s Sarah’s dad and he’s my… he’s my best friend." You squeeze Joel’s hand and take a shaky breath. "He takes care of me and I take care of him. So, you don’t have to worry about Mommy being lonely, okay? I’m gonna be just fine. You don’t have to be scared for me. I've got my people here just like you've got your people there. So, you just rest and I'll be okay." Now, you're really crying and there's no stopping it.

"I love you. I hope leaving didn't make you think otherwise, but I came back. I'll always come back because you're my baby. You'll always be my baby."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

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web-spinning · 2 years

Note

merc reactions to getting a new recruit but finding out they’re only in their mid-teens ? gender neutral please-

A / N - Ay, it's here. Somehow I managed to finish this faster than I expected. Hope you like it, dear anon!

Also, half of the photos are kind of meme-y, but you know what? It works...Please tell me if it works, I am losing my mind trying to find a good quality comic cut out, but only find those.

Mercs with a recruit in their mid-teens

TW. Ask to tag.

Scout

- he's not much excited, in fact he's a bit scared you might take his place,

- but after he finds out you're younger than him...he's so happy!

- he will teach you so many things,

- how to play basketball, how to get along with the older men, even how to deal with your first crush,

- since he is barely a few years older than you, he feels like as an young adult it's his priority to make sure you know all this stuff,

- he's got seven older brothers, all the lessons are probably from them,

- he really feels like you're just his younger sibling,

Soldier

- Jane thinks it's his duty to make sure you know the rules of war,

- he will show you how to use weapons, maybe even let you touch his own weapons,

- " But only for a few seconds, I don't want your young, inexperienced civil hands to spoil them! ",

- he will sit you down in the meeting room of the base, and tell you stories,

- half of those stories aren't real, but you don't want to make him sad, so you just listen,

- on the battlefield, he will follow you around to make sure you don't hurt yourself...or use your weapons incorrectly,

- also..." You do know basic history of your beloved country, don't you, hippie? ",

Pyro

- this Phoenix adores you,

- will invite you to tea parties,

- you will also get a plushie or two from their collection,

- you're the only person other than Engineer who takes them seriously, that's why they like you so much,

- their childish personality helps you cope with the fact you've been sorted out as a mercenary at such a young age,

- always there when you're feeling down,

Demoman

- in all honesty, he has mixed feelings about you,

- he can't invite you to the drinking nights with the other guys, you're just always left behind,

- in recompense, he tries to teach you how to use the sword in the meantime,

- you might never use that skill in the battlefield, but at least you have a thing that takes your mind off of the gravel wars,

- when you're down, you both watch soap operas together, because he's the only one in the whole team who likes them,

Heavy

- Misha just avoids you,

- at first, you think he's just a big, tough guy who dislikes teenagers to look more " deranged ",

- but finally, one of the men, possibly Medic, explains to you why he dislikes being around you so much,

- you remind him of his younger self and his sisters. The way he had to fight to protect them, the awful place they lived in for a while...everything comes back to him when he sees young face,

- you try approaching him about it, but he still remains silent,

- deep inside, on every mission he keeps a close eye on you, making sure you're safe,

Engineer

- Dell is now your step-dad, that's how it works,

- he needs a few energetic bones to help him with his projects, so you will often stand around and hand him tools when he asks for them,

- while he's working, he will tell you different stories about the other mercenaries,

- you ask him to adjust your weapon's, because they're a bit too big for you to handle freely,

- on warm days, he will take you out for a short walk to make sure you won't go insane,

- he assures you that you can tell him about anything, and he will help,

- he does in fact help, especially when it goes with your emotions,

- he's always there to cheer you up when you're sad, or share a smile with you when you're happy,

Medic

- he's so happy with you! I mean, such a fresh canvas to test on,

- every week he asks you to replace your heart with an Uber-handling one, and every week you refuse,

- but when he's not in his mad scientist mood, he's always ready to help you with some of the downsides of growing up,

- he's also very helpful when you're feeling insecure about your body ( all teenagers do that, right? Not only me, right? ),

- " Oh, don't vorry, zhis vill go away. Zhe average of healthy patients your age look zhe same as you ",

Sniper

- you never knew his first reaction, because he's rather quiet about it,

- but after a bit, you learn that he's actually very trustworthy, and big hearted,

- when you're down or one of the other mercenaries, you go to his camper,

- you both play board games there,

- he will most likely take you out fishing or camping during long weekends,

- you like listening to him talk about his adventures from the bush, but he will leave out the gorey details out,

- at some point, he just feels like an older, wiser, quiet brother to you,

Spy

- he's mad. Not at you, at the Administrator for even thinking about hiring you at this age,

- he doesn't see the reason why there must be a new mercenary, so he mostly avoids you,

- until during one of the missions, you save him for getting headshoot point blank,

- he does acknowledge you a bit more after that,

- you're not allowed in his room though, it smells too much like cigarettes in there,

- maybe he seems cold on the outside, but when he sees you struggling with your work, he will always help,

- helping you however makes him remember he couldn’t see this stage of his son’s life…that makes him feel miserable.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 headcanons #tf2 mercs #tf2 x reader #tf2 x reader platonic #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 soldier x reader #tf2 pyro x reader #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 heavy x reader #tf2 engineer x reader #tf2 engineer is dad #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 spy x reader

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princessamericachavez · 11 months

Text

My thoughts about the Ted Lasso finale (no particular order)

The end montage was obviously Ted’s dream for the future and not even subtly so jot that down

Actually just gonna add that this is the show’s way of telling us the potential these characters have and what Ted wishes for them but without his presence it’s up to them now

Roy mouthing alone to Goodbye, Farewell broke me because he’s clearly the one who put together the choreography

Also Dani singing? My most beloved

Jaime and Roy clashing one last time might have pissed some people off but this was always a rock in their shoe that they needed to address and we see that their relationship can and will survive it

I like Rebecca’s romcom ending even if I wanted her to end with Ted.

Ted going back to his son was necessary and the whole point. He always blamed his father for abandoning them. When he came to Richmond he was all but running away from his family in hopes things would magically fix themselves. Instead, he put in the work and healed. But his biggest triggers were always connected to him missing his son’s life. In the end, Ted’s growth was the point so he could go back to them and be the best version of himself for them and for himself.

Ted not talking while Rebecca rambles was actually perfect. Old bitter Rebecca would’ve never opened up like that. But old Ted would’ve also rushed to reassure her or try to make a joke or cheer her up. This time, Ted lets her speak and then sticks to his guns, even if the truth is uncomfortable for others. He allows himself to do this for himself and not to please others.

Beard staying for Jane was foreseeable given the toxic codependent nature of their relationship. Happy perfect endings don’t exist. His story is still developing.

Furthermore, the real growth came from Beard letting himself choose something regardless of what Ted is doing and breaking himself free from a cycle of guilt and feeling in debt.

I know it was in the dream but god I hope Roy gets therapy. We did see the roots of him wanting to change and be better and accept the help he needs so he’s in the right path.

Keeley/Roy/Jamie is still endgame in my heart. Eventually. Once all three are in the right place.

The himbos singing made me cry. A lot.

Even if it was in the dream, if Jamie actually chose to reconnect to his dad somehow I think it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He would get to do it on his terms and only because he chose to have him in his life to some degree. Which might simply be being civil and talking from time to time, so long as his father keeps putting in the work to better himself and takes steps to make amends and apologize and acknowledge all his wrongs. Who knows. It’s an open ending.

Loved everything about the match.

Glad Van Damme got closure from Rani Dojas and that Dani acknowledged his part in what happened and tried to make amends.

CANT believe they made me feel sorry for George.

The cold open was a tease but I loved to see what could’ve been (and who says Ted and Rebecca didn’t find each other while running away from all that noise and one thing less t another…)

I wish we’d seen Sam’s restaurant and his cute chef one last time.

Actually wish we’d had a little bit of all the other himbos.

And finally

Finally

I… don’t think it was the series’s finale. I don’t know. I might be wrong but lately all interviews from the cast suggest deep down they hope something else will come and maybe they’ll be like “you know what, this story isn’t over” or something.

That last scene and the musical cue with Ted’s final shot felt so dissonant to me. Like there’s something still unfinished there.

I, like Roy Kent, have all my fingers crossed.

#Ted lasso #Ted lasso spoilers #tl spoilers

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farawayfroppy · 8 months

Text

Evergreen – I am swept up in you; please don't dispose of me

part 2 ↣ part 1

izuku midoriya x reader

cw: aged up characters, pro-hero au, lots and lots of angst, some canon-typical violence and deaths, Izuku experiences triggers, panic attacks, and nightmares, Reader has a dream-altering quirk, adult language, Reader is referred to as she/her. i see a lot of myself in midoriya so i gave him the therapy that i need

~3k words

hey all! been a while. oops. i started my first year of teaching, so i have had no time to write. i wasn't even planning on posting this i til i had written more of it, but i wanted you to know that i tried lol. i know it's not much, but i hope you enjoy. - Jean xx

Just like that, Izuku found himself back at work.

He knew it was probably too soon, knew it wouldn’t look good to the press or feel like anything other than painful for himself, but he also knew he had a job to do. One of the bastards that had aided in stealing two lives, right in front of him, had gotten away and he hadn’t even known. Hell, beyond that, there was an entire crime ring that seemed to be growing, getting bolder, right under all of their noses.

As much as he didn’t want to relive any of it, to think about it even in the slightest, he knew that as the only hero on the scene that day, he was also a witness. Shouto had wanted information, and now he had it—first hand.

Once inside the doors of his agency, away and safe from the cameras and prying eyes, he made a beeline for his office. He took the stairs today, not bothering with the elevator, where he might have felt like an animal in a cage. That panicked feeling was happening again as he ascended the stairs. Up and up, around and around, it was all blurring together. When he finally reached his floor, he burst through the door, startling an intern standing near a water fountain that was placed a little too closely to the exit.

Izuku mumbled, “Sorry,” but didn’t slow his pace.

He tried not to think about the astounded looks he received from his coworkers as he flew down the hallway. He realized then that he probably should have notified someone, at least his secretary, of his return. As he neared his office, he passed by her, and she rose from her desk with a surprised expression.

“Oh, Deku, you’re back already?” She asked, trying to disguise the shock in her voice. Thinly veiled, painted over with politeness in a way he knew all too well. The customer service voice was like the landlord special of communication, skirting around and covering up the real issues.

He knew it was for his benefit. She was gentle and kind, but he couldn’t handle it. He didn’t feel like he deserved gentle. He didn’t have the capacity to accept kindness, didn’t know how to hold it while already juggling so much. But he wasn’t mean.

“Yep,” he replied, trying to muster up a smile. Tight-lipped, but passable. “Sorry about the disruption, Jane, but I’ll be pretty busy now, so don’t let anyone in. Thanks!” He rushed out before all but diving into the sanctity of his office.

“But—“ he heard her start just as he closed his door, locking it for good measure.

Izuku sighed, slumping against the door with his head down. He felt like crying. He felt small again. How could a man who had accomplished so much, who drew so many eyes, feel so minuscule unto himself? It was hard to live like this, feeling bad for feeling bad, for complaining when he had such privilege and responsibility. There was no end.

“Hey, squirt,” he heard a gruff voice say.

Startled, he shot up, being met with the sight of Bakugou standing near his desk.

“Wh—how did you know I would be here?” He stammered, floored by his friend’s presence and immediately sobered. “Also, I told you to stop calling me that, because—“

Bakugou cut him off, “It’s gross and weird, I know.” He snickered, his shit-eating grin somehow a sight for Izuku’s sore eyes at that moment. “Your mom called me,” he explained, and Izuku cursed to himself quietly.

He should have known. Mama Inko always needed a spy on the inside to make sure he wasn’t lying about being okay. Which, to her credit: he was totally lying about being okay.

“She said you were coming back here today and asked me to make sure you weren’t throwing up and pissing everywhere," he said, and Izuku raised a questioning eyebrow at that.

“My words, not hers,” Bakugou continued. “And you haven’t puked yet, which is a good sign I guess, but do I spy a little pee running down your leg?” He taunted, making his way closer to his green-haired companion to place a large, gloved hand over his face.

Izuku groaned, prying Bakugou’s hand off of him, “Why do you always have to be so gross? And do you ever wash your gloves?”

His friend scoffed in response, “Tch. Haven't you heard I smell like caramel?"

Izuku shuddered, "Caramelized onion maybe. Go take a bath."

Bakugou gave him a long, pointed look before speaking again," So you're really gonna be okay this time, eh?"

Izuku felt his eyebrows furrow in confusion, knowing his expression was probably all too readable to his friend of many years, at least if his stupid smirk was anything to go by.

"What do you mean?" he said indignantly. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You look like you're here," Bakugou started, "and you may even feel like you're here," he continued, giving Izuku just enough of a shove to make him lose his balance momentarily.

"Hey–" he started to protest, stopping when Bakugou jabbed at his forehead, right between the eyes.

"But up here, you're somewhere else. And usually, you stay there longer," he explained, pulling his hand back to cross his arms, "but you're coming back to us. I can tell 'cause you sound like an idiot again–less deranged, though–but still stupid. I'm way past hoping you'll give up on being perfect or whatever, but you're making a little more sense than you were when I came by your apartment," he said, rolling his eyes as he continued, "Ya know, before you so rudely kicked me out and left me arguing with the fuckin' door. Anyway, that's a good enough sign for me to tell your mom not to get her panties in a twist," he finished.

"Because you care so much," Izuku stressed the words, "I am fine, just like I said when you barged into my apartment before," he paused. Then, with a face of disgust and exasperation, he screeched, "And can you not talk about my mom's panties?"

"Yeah, yeah," Bakugou relented. "How 'bout that neighbor chick that lives next to ya?" he smirked. "Bet hers have little cherries on 'em. And let me tell ya, they were all tied up in knots over you."

Izuku froze, feeling his ears get hot with a blush as your face came to mind–all pinched up in concern–and he immediately stared at his shoes.

"My neighbor?" he asked in disbelief, "When did you talk to her?" He peeked up.

Bakugou grinned, knowing he had struck gold with this line of conversation, "After you locked me out of your place. She came home and saw me arguing away with your closed door–asked if you were okay."

"And?" Izuku prompted, watching as his friend shoved his hands in his pockets so nonchalantly, like he didn't just say something potentially life-ruining. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," Bakugou shrugged, watching Izuku's mouth open in shock. "Didn't know you had the hots for her. Not just gonna give some creep info on you in your time of dire need."

Izuku must have visibly deflated, because he continued, "Don't implode; I wasn't mean to her. She looked all...concerned and shit, so you still got a shot."

Izuku sighed, half-relieved that he didn't scare you off and half-annoyed by his friend's tendency to be nosy.

"She's just nice, okay?" He asserted. "Not that you're ever gonna shut up about this, regardless of what I say," he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "And don't talk about her panties either," he ordered.

Bakugou mockingly put his hands up in defeat, "Got it, squirt. I'm heading out now, anyway, now that I've busted up your pity party," he gestured vaguely as he headed toward the door. "I'll tell your mom you haven't keeled over and died yet," he said finally.

He unlocked the door and started to turn the handle as Izuku went to his desk and took a seat, newly determined and ready to get to work.

Bakugou opened the door and began to step out, pausing as he said, "I'm glad you're better now. Than you were that day, I mean." He then added, without any real bite, "Won't have to pick up your slack."

And Izuku didn't know what to say. He nodded, and the other man left. Slumping in his chair, Izuku breathed deeply, not feeling as much of the weight that had been there before, but deep down, he knew that calling himself 'better' was too generous. He understood, though.

The last time he saw Bakugou was right after he had gotten home. Post-incident, post-bullet wound–could you blame him for not making sense? And he was so angry. Just so angry, like he hadn't been in a long time. His friend had come by to try to put an early end to his downward spiral, but he wouldn't listen to any of it. He couldn't. It's like his eyes and ears and, hell, his entire head had been filled with cotton. There had been one time like it in the past, a time that Bakugou had bore witness to just how much the job really affected Izuku.

A few years back, fresh out of school, they had been called on to a kidnapping case. This girl in a small town had disappeared, and people feared it might have been the work of a trafficking ring from a nearby city. They were right. The two of them managed to infiltrate the house that they had been holding the girl hostage in. They even found her.

Izuku still remembers how he had scooped her up, promising that she would be safe again. Promising that she would feel safe again. Bakugou had been fighting close by, securing their exit, a plan they had become accustomed to by then.

They both agreed that Izuku was better at the hands-on rescuing stuff, a more calming presence during a really traumatic time for the victims they saved. And Bakugou was doing what he did best, fighting with an almost reckless abandon. They were almost out, the majority of the suspects involved had been subdued either on the way in or by Bakugou's hands on the way out. But they missed one.

They missed a man who waited for them right at the top of the stairs, one who shot without hesitation. The bullet should have hit Izuku right in the chest, but he was holding the girl he had promised to save. It hit her instead, saving his life but ending hers almost instantly.

It wasn't instant, though. And he remembers how she had looked up at him, with shock, disbelief, pain, and fear. But more than that, he remembered the look of hope. And he doesn't know if it was confusion, or ill-advised optimism that would never cease despite the odds, but she spoke her last words to him then.

"Don't worry," she had choked out, with a smile and the tears on her cheeks that betrayed it.

"Deku will save us."

Izuku felt too warm, trying to shake his head to rid himself of the memory.

"Work," he reminded himself. "Work, work."

He knew that his best chance of preventing anything like that from happening again was to stop it before it started. He had to find the evil in the world and snuff it out before it could spread. But evil doesn't exist in a vacuum.

Evil is born and raised. It's shut out, dealt a bad hand. Loved or unloved; seen or unseen. Evil is a product of generations of the product of an evening. It can sometimes be found in minds and hearts, but always in places it shouldn't be.

It had been hard for Izuku to learn that evil wouldn't be going anywhere despite his best efforts. Like the the night to the day, it just is. He didn't know if it was necessary, and understood that ultimately, he would not be the one to decide. He could only be evil's consequence, but that had consequences for him as well. Everything balanced out, one way or another. All he could do was try to tip the scales in favor of the righteous and the good.

He spent the next few hours pouring over any and all footage from the incident, as well as witness testimonies. From that, he could gather a decent description of the second perpetrator despite his face being partially obscured. The guy was too coward to even show his face, so he'd worn sunglasses and a baseball cap. He did, however, neglect to cover the tattoos that covered his arms, and some were familiar.

At this point, Izuku had seen criminals of all kinds, and was starting to be able to tell who ran with who just based on their tattoos and general demeanor. But while these looked familiar, he couldn't exactly place them. They were slightly different than those of the main gang that ran in his area, so he decided he would send an enhanced (as enhanced as possible based on grainy footage from the scene) photograph of the tattoo he was looking at to both Dynamight and Shouto's agencies. Maybe they would recognize it.

There wasn't much else to go on at the moment, so as difficult as it was, Izuku turned back to the less pressing but very necessary task of filing reports from past cases. Cases--at times very loosely called so--could mean anything from a traffic violation to a minor dispute. Of which, there were many, especially in a big city. It wasn't glamorous, but it was work that needed doing. And, in his absence, the reports had started to pile up.

"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Paperwork."

To Izuku, the minutes seemed to pass more quickly than usual, which was probably due to the fact that he could basically hear the humming of his heartbeat. His leg was bouncing too, unconsciously, a dull anxiety nipping at his throat while his heart turned over in his chest. His vital organs thrumming with energy made him feel connected to the moment in a way he wished he could reject. It came out of nowhere, that thief of focus. Not completely unwelcome, but uncomfortable in a way that made him start to realize the sweat on his skin and the scratch of his collar.

He had been productive, at least, and had burned through the daylight. He checked the time, eyes growing a bit when he realized how long he had been working. He was completely caught up on paperwork and had even started to get ahead on some things, so he should've known that he had gone way beyond working hours.

He packed his things and left, noticing how he seemed to be the last one in the office. Jane had really taken it to heart when he asked not to be bothered. In some ways, he was relieved. He felt like he'd had enough conversation for the day, so he found a guilty pleasure in walking out in silence. It seemed that even the camera and news crews had taken their leave, and Izuku let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in.

Once he arrived home, he had only just turned the key when your door was thrown open. He flinched, visibly startled, before taking you in.

You looked flustered as you rushed out, "Oh, did I scare you? I'm sorry." Sheepishly you added, "I totally wasn't waiting for you to come home or anything. Just wanted to...look...at the hallway." You nodded then, as if trying to convince yourself, "You know, for fresh air..."

Izuku laughed, slightly confused, but like felt that was the right move.

"Do you want to come over?" You asked suddenly, and he saw something hopeful swimming in your eyes, which were much more open now than the last time he had seen you. He was thankful for that.

Before he could even agree, you said, "I promise I won't fall asleep on you this time."

He really laughed at that as he nodded, "Sure. Give me 10 minutes? I just need to put my stuff away and change."

"No," you whined playfully, slipping back into your apartment. "Don't change. I like you how you are!"

Izuku just laughed at your antics as your door closed, glad to see you much more full of energy. He hoped you were able to get the rest you needed, but knew that fixing that level of deprivation would take a bit of time. You can't catch up on sleep, after all.

#anime #my hero academia #mha #farawaytalks #mha fic #bnha #izuku midoriya #bnha fic #deku #farawaywrites #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero acedamia #deku x reader #bnha deku #mha deku #izuku angst #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x reader #izuku x y/n

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palmtreepalmtree · 1 month

Text

Alright, here it is, the totally unasked for review of Irish Wish from a woman who does not have the time to be doing it but can't stop thinking about it SO HERE WE ARE.

The Worst Movie on Netflix right now is Lindsay Lohan in Irish Wish.

Alright, so if you don't know the premise, I will recap for you. Lindsay plays Maddie, a book editor who has edited a bestselling novel on behalf of this uber wealthy and allegedly Irish dude Paul Kennedy who is a bestseller (whether he was a bestseller before or after Maddie helped him on this, his second book, is unclear, but I refuse to debate it). She has a huge adult lady girl crush on this man, but has not told him yet.

Our movie, such as it is, begins at his book launch where Maddie is girding her loins to try to tell him how she feels---and instead he winds up vibing with her gal pal Emma. FAST FORWARD and Emma and Paul are getting married. And Maddie is miserable and still pining. So she manages to make a wish to a wish-granting (Catholic?*) Saint Bridget that she wishes she were marrying Paul instead. AND THEN HIJINKS ENSUE.

Here's the CRAZY thing -- that there is a world-altering wish granted by some random Irishy fairy/saint is the least logically offensive thing to happen in this insane, inhuman, bizarre series of events that we're calling a "movie."

I mean less than 5 minutes into the movie, Maddie is having a speakerphone conversation with her mom in the bathroom of the book launch where she is openly speaking about her feelings for Paul.

What is she a boomer!? BUT ALSO you hope your mom in fucking IOWA (Jane Seymour, cashing checks) has not told anyone about your feelings for Paul that you are discussing on SPEAKERPHONE in the bathroom AT PAUL'S BOOK LAUNCH!?

Not two seconds later, a pair of extras leave the bathroom stalls and exit the bathroom behind her. And she doesn't react in any concerned way. She does not react at all. Is she not worried about who just overheard her? Is she not embarrassed? Maybe these are friends of Paul who would be interested to know that his Editor has a crush on him!? We are in fact at his book launch!? This is a startlingly weird lack of reaction! Like......... we are less than 5 minutes into this movie and I am already wondering where basic human logic just went. WAS THERE NOT A SINGLE HUMAN PERSON ON SET OR IN THE EDITING ROOM WHO THOUGHT THIS WAS A PROBLEM!?

Alright, somehow, I have to get further into this movie than 3 minutes and 55 seconds.

So Maddie's gearing up to tell Paul her feelings and as soon as he sees her, he says he wants to talk to her about something important. And when they sit down together, he takes her by the hand, gazes deeply into her eyes with the sincere, smoldering look above, and says this: I feel like it's time we take our relationship to the next level. And she lights up. CAUSE THIS IS HER MOMENT AND SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING OR RISK ANYTHING! But then Paul just asks her to work with him on his next book. And she is devastated.

But here's the thing. WHO FUCKING SAYS THAT!? What man does that? THAT IS A TRASH MAN, MADDIE! He is obviously manipulating her to get what he wants. GET OUT OF THERE, MADDIE! GET OUT OF THERE!

The thing is the movie does not reckon or deal with this moment at all (because it is not a movie it is just a semblance of scenes). When the movie fasts forward and Paul is marrying Emma, we're meant to believe that Maddie is still friends with him, works with him, and admires him. The MOVIE ITSELF never questions this---is Paul a sincere authentic dude who was just oblivious to how he was coming over? Or was he screwing her over!?

I don't need a fucking idiotic Saltburn-style reveal, but the movie should have a fucking opinion about this and it should be reflected in it. It should be there in the mise-en-scene, the costuming, the subtext, SOMEWHERE. But this is not a movie, it is just a semblance of scenes.

I have written many words, and I am 7 minutes into the movie. So I am going to take a break and come back to his.

============= LUNCH BREAK ============

Alright, look, there are about 90 more minutes left in this movie and there are just dozens and dozens more moments like this where people do things and say things that just defy logic or are otherwise untreated and unacknowledged by the narrative. Parts of this movie approximate real life, but they don't come near it.

Rachel Handler over at Vulture does a granular breakdown (and still misses things cause omg this movie is a mess!) that you can check out here. She suggests that this movie could only have been written by AI. I get where she's coming from.

So much of this movie includes rom-com tropes like it's ticking off boxes rather than adding value to the overall story. For example, Maddie is repeatedly portrayed as a klutz---tripping over things, nearly breaking things. Why? I'm too tired to even be mad about this. Just.... why?!

The common wisdom is that gorgeous actresses need to be more relatable to audiences and making them klutzy is an easy shorthand for relatability.

The thing is this trope---and so many rom-com tropes---are deeply offensive to the women who make up much of the target audience. I mean JFC, gorgeous women can be single! For so.many.reasons. And I don't know about you, but I don't need an absurd narrative justification for why that might be that diminishes the main character and makes her look silly.

I mean, I'm a fuckup, but I don't get into a tug-of-war battle at the airport over luggage. (wtf, why didn't she just look at the fucking bag tag? This is insane behavior! Is this a sad little attempt at humor!? Barely 11 minutes into the movie now!).

The theme of this movie, to the extent there is one, (TO THE EXTENT THIS IS A MOVIE AT ALL) is that Maddie needs to learn to speak up for herself to get the things she actually wants. But she spends half the movie saying MY MOM WILL FIX IT! Just wait until my mom gets here!

Again, how is this a likeable or interesting character trait? It's one thing for a character to need to speak up for themselves. But there is something remarkably juvenile about a character who repeatedly says her mom will fix it.

In her review, Handler notes how unbelievably sexless this movie is and I 100% agree and noticed it immediately. To the extent that Maddie suddenly wakes up in the exact world she wants, she is remarkably embarrassed about getting the thing---THE MAN---she wants. She seems obviously afraid to kiss him, and "accidentally" (massive side-eye) kicks the shit out of him when she finds him in her bed.

It's like the movie doesn't want her to want anything. While simultaneously telling us she doesn't ask for the things she wants.

By the way, this is an insane contrast to the recent Netflix movie Players in which Gina Rodriguez spends the whole movie asking for the things she wants, pursuing it, and getting it. Fuck yeah, Gina.

I'm not saying a movie has to be sexual to be romantic or to work or anything like that. I'm saying don't be so fucking coy about it that you're inadvertently telling women that sex is NOT a part of love or that you're telling women they should be ashamed of desiring someone emotionally and physically. That's fucking ridiculous puritan SHIT.

Alright, this is the rare review that I have not thoughtfully organized in humorous stages. There's really just too much here to mine. There are the absurd accents that Seamas O'Reilly noted and understands much better than me in his review for the Irish Examiner here.

He also noted the uncanny valley of the location that feels totally phony the whole way through. And probably for good reason. I mean, first of all, we're supposed to believe that this candy pink dock is a real fucking place in Ireland??????

(Allegedly the lake is real, but fuck me I hope the dock is fake!!)

And honestly, of course it's fucking FAKE. Not sure if you can see the planter of flowers that are supposed to be just wild in the landscape, but I sure could.

But you don't really need evidence to tell you that everything about this movie is a contrived, fake, phony mess.

And here, ultimately is the problem.

Irish Wish is an objectively bad movie. I mean, I don't really care that there are always going to be tons of people whining about how 'it's a fun movie!' and 'it's just not that deep!' Like FUCK OFF. HAVE SOME FUCKING STANDARDS IN YOUR LIFE. It's a bad movie.

But there's almost zero way for this to impact Netflix's assessment of what works and what doesn't on their network and what they should invest in moving forward.

According to some sources, Players (a perfectly fine, predictable movie with good actors, okay writing, and actual production values) had 16.3 million views on the first week. Irish Wish had 19.5 million. Netflix has no way to determine whether one is of better quality than the other. It rewards the shitty writing, shitty production, equally, if not more.

I didn't get so mad after watching Irish Wish that I canceled my subscription. No, I just recognized that, 'oh hey, Physical 100 has a new season out next week.' So I just waited for that and watched the next thing on Netflix.

Sigh. And honestly, Irish Wish is so bad it's kind of fucking hilarious to watch, so maybe that's worth something here. Hard to argue with that.

I don't want to declare a genre dead, but we're running so hard in the wrong direction in the world of rom-com, that it's becoming painful to love these movies. It doesn't help that critics constantly give low ratings to rom-coms because of their predictability instead of understanding that being predictable is an essential part of the genre. But there's still a stark difference between Players and Irish Wish and I don't think that's properly reflected in a 4% audience score differential on Rotten Tomatoes. Like... what are we even doing here guys!? HAVE SOME STANDARDS, I AM BEGGING YOU.

But I do love this genre. I really do. I love these movies. I don't know what it's going to take to save them. But I can tell you one thing.

We can't count on Lindsay Lohan doing it for us.

*I am not getting into the religious implications here cause I'm an atheist Jew, so leave me out of this.

#ptpt reviews #fucking hell this is a #long post #sorry i guess #don't @ me #i honestly do not care #players is good #not nearly as good as someone like you #but gina rodriguez is still super charming #i feel like there are a lot more tags for this that i am forgetting #but i gotta get back to work #so over everything

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